Dark Times

[Patrick]

There was so much fear in this town. It oozed from every streetcorner, from every passerby. Fear filled the air, saturated it. Fear of the unknown. A justified fear, after what had happened in the last dozen years.

 

It had been exactly eleven years to the day that the first murder had taken place. The Cult of Netkal, the God of Pain and Suffering, had previously, although not looked upon with a friendly glance, accepted. But something changed eleven years ago. Members of the cult started commiting horrific deeds: ritual murders, inhumane sacrifices to their dark god. The High-Council, fearing at first for the good fame of the town, tried to cover up the fact of something being seriously amiss, but when the number of murders and disappearances started growing at an alarming rate they had to call in help from the military.

 

The crown sent three hundred pikemen and under the leadership of General Garrick Haly they sieged the headquarters of the Cult, killing everyone they found in there. The horrors they uncovered had been unthought of previously and were never brought to the attention of the public. Fears of the cult possibly gaining force again led to the king ordering General Haly to stay in the town.

 

Seven peaceful years followed. Seven years of prosperity and unfortunately memories of the horrors of the cult faded in the eye of the public. Then on a hot, rainy summer night half a dozen young women disappeared from their homes without a trace. A week later a prominent trader was found murdered, lying in a pool of his own blood, a symbol of the cult painted on the wall of his home in his blood.

 

The strange disappearances and murders continued over the months, but no headquarters could be found for the clan. The situation had been thus for nearly four years and the pressure on the high council and General Garrick to root out the clan ever grew.

 

Then something happened. A strange, outlandish trading ship arrived. It brought exotic wares and a passenger. A mysterious man, who had as many names as people he met. No one knew where he came from, neither what he came for, but his arrival was the preface to many strange events to come.

Edited June 22, 2005 by Patrick Durham

[Sweetcherrie]

“Sir,” The soldier had obviously been running, and was still panting when he saluted.

 

Garrick saluted back, “At ease, soldier.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” the soldier took an easier position, but hardly seemed to loosen up “We have found Captain Larusso, sir.”

 

“Where was he? Hanging around with some women in a bar?” Garrick grinned, Larusso was one of his best captains, but he was also known for his loose behavior on his days off. He had once run into the captain on his day off, he had been in a bar, surrounded by four women, and each one had tried to catch his attention. Ever since it had been a standing joke, that captain Larusso loved the women, more than he loved life itself.

 

“Captain Larusso is…dead, sir.” The soldier obviously didn’t feel at ease that he was the one that had to deliver this message.

 

Garrick’s face lost its smile, and he sat down, “Dead? Where did you find him, soldier?”

 

“We found his body on the northside of town, sir, close to the entrance of the sewers.”

 

Garrick took a moment to process this information. For the past few weeks they had been following leads in a different part of the town, and he had thought that it had been good information he had been given. His informers had told him that those Netkal beggars were operating from one of the older parts of the city, and that they had acquired a number of the small workers houses that were so widely represented in that area. His troops had been raiding the little houses randomly, and had already found evidence that they were looking in the right direction. Garrick had though that they had finally started to get closer to their headquarters.

 

“What was the cause of death, soldier?”

 

“He was found with the symbol, sir.” The soldier saw General Haly’s face getting darker with every word he reported. He understood. He knew that the General had been looking for four years now, and the council was getting impatient. General Haly had been not his usual self lately. The normally so cheerful man, who was good with his men, had been seen brooding over city maps, feverishly trying to find the Netkal headquarters.

 

“Has his body been brought back to his parents?”

 

“They are doing that at the moment, sir.”

 

Garrick nodded, he would have to pay Larusso’s family a personal visit, he had known him since they were little, and his loss was a loss for the whole regiment. He made sure that everything would be properly arranged for Larusso’s burial, and arranged that his parents were send some money; they would have an extra hard time now their son would no longer come home with his salary. After this he went back to his plans, and tried to figure out what it could mean that one of his best captains had been found dead at the entrance of the sewers.

Edited June 22, 2005 by Sweetcherrie

[Patrick]

"What did you say, what was your name?" - the peasant seemed to be nervous.

 

"I did not give you my name, besides you knowing it would not change anything." - replied the mysterious cloaked figure.

 

"I see." - the peasant wringed his hands.

 

"I have come to buy the horse." - a gloved hand came forward and handed the peasant the announcement, which read:

 

Hoarse fer sal. Jermy Nort, farme threeh mils weste ov towen. Prijce: 10 silva

 

"You have the money?" - greed was visible in the peasant's eyes.

 

"I want to see the horse first before we speak about money."

 

"Yes, yes, follow me."

 

The peasant led the cloaked man towards the stables.

 

"He is a savage beast, but he is very fast. I can't use him for farming, so I'm selling him."

 

The man didn't reply and just followed the peasant. As the peasant opened the door to the stables a loud neighing erupted from the other side. A black stallion looking to be in a really bad shape, tied to a pole with a very short rope eyed the peasant, with eyes full of hatred.

 

The cloaked figure turned his hooded head towards the peasant and his voice came out low and menacing.

 

"Seven silver is all I shall give you."

 

The peasant backed away several feet from the stranger.

 

"Take him!"

 

The cloaked figure extended his hand and threw the seven pieces of silver at the peasant. Trying to catch them the peasant caught one, but the rest fell to the ground next to him.

 

As he tried to gather up the coins he did not notice the stranger approach the horse. The horse, fear in its eyes tried backing away, but the rope did not let it. Then the hooded figure touched the horse. Immediately the stallion calmed down.

 

When the farmer looked up he saw the stranger sitting on the horse. The stranger left, with the horse obeying every order he gave it.

Edited April 10, 2005 by Patrick Durham

[Patrick]

The three stableboys could barely hide their amusement. When he had given the name of his horse, they had nearly laughed out loud. Siarannath'El Hizim he had called him. Steed of the Dark Valley it meant in his tongue, but apparently "siagarna" meant excrement in the local language.

 

Let them have their fun - he thought and headed towards the tavern. As he entered the common room he saw that the night's drinking was already well under way. In the dimly lit hall some of the patrons were already lying in corners or on tables. To the hooded figure it seemed that everyone wanted to live their life to the fullest before being taken away. With the sect's activities increased no one felt safe, and the town militia along with General Haly's men were grasping at straws and many innocents were thrown into prison.

 

Fear could be felt as almost a solid presence. It permeated the air, given off by the alcoholic sweat of the drinkers and drunkards. The fat barkeep, Johnathan Masterson kept serving his ale, drinking much of it himself. He wiped his thick beard of the foam and surveyed the new arrival. He had seen the mysterious figure around town previously, but not in his tavern.

 

He felt that the figure would bring nothing but trouble. Still he greeted him pleasantly when he got to the bar and asked him what he wanted.

 

"Your establishment does not offer what I require Mister Masterson. I seek information, and I have been told that you know the person I should look for. I have also been told that this person is in your inn tonight."

 

"I don't deal in information. If you want lodgings, food or drink, I can help ya, but I don't deal in information. If ya ask me, that business is much too dangerous." - the barkeep shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. Clearly he had the information the stranger was requesting, but did not want to reveal it.

 

The hooded figure reached into a pocket of its cloak and put a leather pouch on the bar. The pouch made a jingling sound as it hit the bar and partially opened. Gold and silver pieces could be seen inside, along with a few bronze and copper coins. The innkeeper's eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets as he surveyed the money, but then to the stranger's mild surprise his fear overcame his greed.

 

"I told you that I do not deal in information."

 

The eyes glowed a faint orange under the hood of the figure and the barkeep took a step back, a sudden terror striking him. What had come to his tavern? He tried peeking under the hood, but apart from the fear-inducing eyes he could see nothing.

 

"I'll sell you the information." - it was one of the sewer workers sitting at the bar a few feet away. He downed the remainder of his ale and walked over to the stranger. The stranger withdrew his gaze from the innkeep and his eyes lost their glow, becoming invisible under the hood.

 

With a movement of his head he indicated a table in a corner and went over there. The sewer worker followed him.

 

"The one you are looking for is called Hion Emereus. He is an old man, living alone with his daughter, but it is said that he has knowledge of many things." - he said when they had gotten seated. "He lives in one of the houses on the outskirts of the town."

 

The sewer worker described the way to the stranger, not looking at the hooded face once.

 

"You speak the truth." - the stranger announced after a minute long silence.

 

"He was here earlier today, but left about half an hour ago." - the man added, aiming to please the strange visitor.

 

"Very well." - the stranger handed the pouch to the sewer worker and left the tavern without another word.

 

***

 

When he passed the stables the three stable boys shouted at him from a distance:

 

"Look! There goes the siaragna-rider!"

[Sweetcherrie]

Garrick was walking fast, mindlessly taking care not to step on any of the excrements that were scattered on the streets in this part of town. He was on his way to meet Larusso’s parents, and they lived in a part of town that he always told his daughter to stay away from. His head was racing, first he would give his condolences to the kid’s parents, and then he would go back home for a night out with his daughter. With all this running around, trying to locate that idiotic cult, he’s hardly had time lately to spend with his daughter. Garrick was feeling slightly guilty about this, but he also knew that his daughter would end up just fine. He smiled to himself, he was lucky to have a daughter like this, she had been so understanding when his wife had died, and she also understood that he had been needed elsewhere. Tonight they would have diner together, and he would listen to what she’d been doing lately. With his mind wrapped up in these thoughts he forgot where he was going for a moment. And he bumped into one of the many beggars that lived in the city. He wanted to apologize and walk on, but the man clamped on him like an oyster that had shut its shell.

 

“You need to know!” The man shouted. He was clad in rags and from one of his eyes puss was streaming over his filthy face. His dirty hands grabbed Garrick at his coat, and the one good eye stared in his with hysterical madness. “The dark is coming and it will swallow us!” The beggar was screaming now, and his voice sounded as if someone had rasped it against a cheese grater.

 

“What the hell are you talking about, and would you please let me go” Garrick tried to remove the grasping hands, but they only closed tighter around the fabric. He felt disgusted by the man, and at the same time he had the eerie feeling that this might be something worth listening to.

 

“They live in the dark, and I know where” The beggar’s voice had dropped to a raw whisper, “I can bring you, but I want dinero, lots of it” saliva flew in Garrick’s face as the man spat out the last words.

 

“Fine, if you now let go we can discuss this somewhere quiet” He had barely said these words as he felt the body going limp in his arms. The beggar’s eye stared at him with a blank look, and Garrick almost fell over under the dead weight that was now clinging on to him. He sank to his knees with the body slumped in his arms. A little feathered dart was sticking out of the man’s back, and when he took a closer look he could smell the stinging scent of mescaline penetrating his nose. He glances around in vein for the murderer, and then decided to leave the body where it was. He would send some of his men to give the beggar a pauper funeral, and have them investigate the murder and the dart. He gently put the body against a house, and with a last look he hurried onwards to his meeting, now having other thoughts to trouble his mind.

Edited April 29, 2005 by Sweetcherrie

[Venefyxatu]

Nathan was a master at blending in with a crowd as was proven once more. Suppressing a proud grin he shuffled along, just another face among the many. That retarded guard captain would never find him, never suspect him, never think some of the beggars were ... but he mustn't think of that now. He had to concentrate on shuffling along, always shuffling, never running, never too fast, always slow, at the same speed as the others, blending in, not standing out. Yes, that was the trick, the con, the way to fool other people. You could kill and hurt and steal and murder and cut and stab and slash and hit as long as you didn't look guilty, didn't run, didn't stare more than anyone else, didn't look as though you knew anything about what had just happened. Nobody paid attention to a shuffler, but everybody would see someone who ran, someone who fleed, someone who was speeding away, see you they would if you did those things.

He had almost been too late, too, not on time, too late would've been bad. The Torn One would have been displeased, very unhappy, very angry with Nathan if he'd been too late, too slow, not fast enough. But now he would be happy and pleased, glad to see Nathan, because the traitor was dead, a cold corpse on the street, killed. He would never betray the Torn One again, would never betray anyone again, would never speak again, would never tell anything, would keep his secrets, keep the Big Secret, like Nathan, only Nathan was not dead, he was alive and breathing and suffling along and returning to tell the Torn One that the traitor was killed dead with a dart and poison.

 

 

 

Caleb was the only one from the Cult who didn't lead a double life in the village. He didn't mind living in these caves, nor did he miss the village life. Every time he saw one of those bumpkins he wanted nothing more than go into a bloody frenzy and slaughter everything in view. True, some of them had potential, the select few who had been chosen by Netkal Himself. He could stand them, if they weren't around him for too long. That's why he had them hiding in plain view, right under Garrick's nose, where he wouldn't expect them.

He cuckled.

 

"Garrick ... you sseek 'ut do not hhind ... you'll neher hhind uss, and e'en ih you do, there 'ill 'e otherss. The Cult o' Netkal 'ill hherssisst."

 

When there was a knock on the door, Caleb turned towards it and crossed his arms across his chest. Standing in the middle of the room, he was flanked by two torches and stood on stones that were a brownish red with the dried blood of victims.

 

"Enter."

 

The door was pushed open and Nathan shuffled in. He hardly looked at Caleb, but that was normal. What was important was that he didn't look very frightened. The corners of Caleb's lifted in a ghastly grin, even though he knew the effect was wasted on Nathan. The poor sod hardly paid attention to his surroundings - it was a miracle he was still alive.

 

"Nathan, you 'ring good news?"

 

"Yes Torn One, the traitor is dead and killed and ..."

 

"Good. You 'ill ha'e a s'ecial role in the next cere'ony."

 

Nathan grinned happily and shuffled out again, already lost in his own little world.

Edited June 22, 2005 by Venefyxatu

[Patrick]

"What have you seen?" - came the whisper from under the cloak.

 

The small fairy appeared with a sudden popping sound, as if a wine bottle were being opened.

 

"I thought you could not see me." - she said in a small, piping voice.

 

"I don't need to be able to see you, to know you are here."

 

Two hands came up and the hood was thrown back, revealing the handsome face, of a man in his late forties. Lines of age were starting to appear on the brow and in the corners of the mouth, but the face still showed that its bearer came from a noble lineage.

 

"So, what did you find, Celenia?"

 

The fairy spun around the stranger's head twice, leaving a fine trail of fairy dust on his shoulders. She then approached his right ear, and standing on his shoulder whispered in his ear. Siarannath'El Hizim kept walking slowly along the street. The stranger chuckled about the name. He knew the stable boys did not understand the name, but he guessed that sooner or later they would tell their master about it. And he would have it translated and find out the meaning of the name. What a distraction it was going to be... He had to credit Celenia for the idea. The language of the long forgotten Necromancer-Kings on the far away islands south was not an often heard language and it would probably be excellent at misleading those who were on his trail, or took an interest in him.

 

"Sorry, Celenia, could you repeat what you just said? I was lost in my thoughts for a moment."

 

Her small, green eyes glared at him playfully and she lent to his ear again.

 

"The brown-haired stableboy has reported to the one you had expected one of them to report to."

 

"That was fast. Thank you Celenia."

 

"Anything else you want?"

 

"I want you to watch the barkeep for me tonight, listen to what conversations he has, and who he talks to. I have suspicions about him."

 

Celenia nodded and fluttered in front of his face. He reached to a small pouch on his belt and opened it, turning the opening towards her. She put a small hand in it and took out a wrapped up leaf. Opening the leaf, revealed a chunk of some exotic-looking fruit in it. She lifted it from the leaf and then with a pop disappeared.

 

"Where shall I find you?"

 

"I do not know yet, I was going to go to visit the old man, but the ones watching me have moved faster than I had expected. Do you think we were followed?"

 

"If I knew the answer to that question Julak, it would have been the first thing I would have told you."

 

"Just keep an eye out for any suspicious activity, will you?"

 

"You know you can count on me."

 

Julak took off his cloak and put it in his pack. Hion Emereus's house was only fifty meters ahead of him now. But he quickly made up his mind and steered Siarannath' towards the house, and tied him to the small post outside the house, then he simply walked off to the other side of the road. He knew that without his hood and cloak those who had previously seen him, had nearly no chance of recognizing him.

 

He smiled to himself and went into the armorer's on the other side of the road, keeping an eye on the window all the time he was talking to the armorer about a very specific piece of exquisite armor...

[Sweetcherrie]

Garrick locked the incident with the beggar into a small part of his brain. He would look at it later, but for the moment he had more pressing matters to think about. He continued on his way to the lieutenant's family, and tried to think ahead of what he would say. He’d never been any good with these sorts of things, and never knew what to say to someone who had just lost a dear one. In his head he was still rehearsing how he was going to bring it, when he noticed that his legs had already carried him to his destination.

 

Garrick took a deep breath, and knocked on the half rotten, wooden door. The house he was standing in front of was small, and seemed to almost fall apart. The shutters were hanging half crooked on their rusted hinges, and large cracks were running from the roof to the ground. This neighbourhood carried a constant smell of excrements, and the sharp sting of rotting garbage was creeping up his nose. Shouts were coming from the open doors of a lowlife bar at the end of the street, and somewhere a dog was howling miserably.

 

The door opened and an old, wrinkled woman clad in black was standing in the doorway. Her crown reached to his shoulder, and he could see that this was because father time had given her a hunchback. “Miss Larusso?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Your son used to work for me m’am, I’m General Haly...” His voice trailed off a bit when he realised that, although he had known Larusso pretty well, he had never met his parents before. He felt a mixture of guilt and pain thinking about Larusso’s death, even more so now he was standing in front of his mother.

 

“Ah, yes. My son spoke about you with great respect, and he was always proud that he was working for you, sir. Would you like to come in?” The old lady stepped back, and Garrick bent down his head to step inside through the low port. She guided him through a dark hallway into a surprisingly clean and light living room. A man, who looked even older than the woman, was sitting in a chair by the stove. When Garrick entered the room he hurried himself to get up and enthusiastically shook the general’s hand.

 

“I’m very honoured to finally meet you, sir. Our son has told us much about you, all good of course.” He grinned a toothless grin, “Please, sit down.” With a hand that was deformed by the obvious effects of rheumatism, he ushered Garrick into the chair that he himself had occupied just moments before, and sat down in the chair opposite.

 

“My sincere regrets for your son.” Garrick said. A sad shadow fell over the man’s face, and his wife put her hand in front of her mouth.

 

“It’s all that girls fault,” she whispered, “that…that…Miarna Ann Emereus." The name had come out as if she was chewing on a very sour lemon, "If she wouldn’t have filled his mind with all that cult stuff he would still be-“ her voice broke, the thoughts of her deceased son were obviously becoming too much for her.

 

“There, there, mammy. We don’t know if it was her.” he patted his wife’s hand.

 

“I’ve never liked her, she wanted to took our son away from us.”

 

“Please excuse my wife, sir, she’s not been feeling too well since we’ve heard the news.” The man tapped his wife’s hand warmly and looked at the general with his watery blue eyes. Garrick didn’t feel at ease, he knew that the old man had given him his chair, and he suggested that he would probably better leave, but the old people got up at the same time, and told him that he was no bother, and asked if he wanted another cup of the tea-like, but cheaper, lilt. Garrick sighed inwardly, but smiled and said yes.

Edited June 10, 2005 by Sweetcherrie

[Sweetcherrie]

The colours were possibly even louder than the sales people who shouted out their specials of the day, but Jasmin loved the markets down town. She had gone to buy the ingredients for tonight’s dinner; she wanted to cook Baranna, and needed fresh fish for this. To make sure that she would get a fresh salmon, and fresh spices, she had left early that afternoon. Once she had everything on her list, she allowed herself to wander around a bit. She was just looking at some very fine fabrics, when she felt two strong arms being wrapped around her, accompanied by Lambert's hello whistle. It was pure coincidence that he was here as well, since usually he was working in the smithy at this time. Thinking to himself how fortunate it was that he had overslept today, he grinned at Jasmin when she turned around.

 

She shook his arms off of her and smiled a half icy smile, “Lambert, how nice to see you.” They’d been going out for a couple of months now, and although he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen, he wasn’t one of the smartest. This, however, suited her nicely as she wanted to be in control of most things, and the fool was so in love with her, that he ran at her every little command. She dragged them out of sight into a shadowy corner, and let him work his magic. Right before Jasmin wanted to leave again, Lambert stopped her. With a slightly irritated look in her eyes she turned back to him.

 

"I also had a message for you ... " Lambert held his lower lip and gave a bad imitation of Caleb's speech, "Tell Jas'ine that the old 'ans daughter needs to 'e ... taken care o'. She'll kno'at you 'ean."

 

Jasmin frowned, pushed Lambert away from her, and mumbled, “So Caleb wants me to do the dirty work again, heh?” She seemed to think about it for a minute, and then faced the boy that was still sheepishly grinning at her, “Tell him, I want a special part in the next ceremony.”

 

Lambert nodded eagerly and wondered whether he should go back immediately, or later that night as Caleb had instructed. He decided on what would probably be the safest course of action - he'd go back after work. After all, he was already late, and Caleb didn't like anyone drawing attention to themselves, or not doing exactly what he said.

 

"Of course Jasmin, I'll tell him. But I'd better go to work now - mr Faltermeister is probably wondering where I am."

 

Jasmin sighed, “Now Lambert, mr Faltermeister can wait.” She saw Lamberts face twist in doubt, “oh forget it, I’ll tell Caleb myself. I need to see him tonight anyways.”

 

She snapped and turned her back on him. When Jasmin saw Lambert looking like a puppy that's just been kicked by its favourite owner, she sighed and hugged him to make him think that she didn't really mean it. He didn't see the face she pulled behind his back, and when he went off to the smithy he was as happy as ever.

Edited June 7, 2005 by Sweetcherrie

[Sweetcherrie]

Jasmin re-arranged the flowers on the table and made sure that the cutlery was shining. She looked forward to dinner with her dad, and on evenings like this she tried to forget that he was stupid enough not to believe in the cult. In the past there had been many times where she had almost told him that she was a member, but she knew now, after ten long years, that he would never change his views. She sighed, after her mom had died, he had become even more intent on catching them. But tonight they would have dinner together, and it would almost be like old times. She went back inside and checked on the Baranna, it was looking almost ready, and just when she took it out of the oven, Garrick came home.

 

“Hey sweetie,” he kissed his daughter on her cheek, “had a good day?”

 

While Jasmin told of her adventures at the market that day, handily leaving out Lambert, he unbuttoned his uniform jacket, and hung it over a chair. His mind was still going over the conversation he’d had with the old folks that afternoon, and he had to force himself to listen to what Jasmin was saying.

 

“…and then I ran into Miarna, she kept on talking about Larusso, dad, and about how he could have been still alive, if only he would have not been so stubborn in saying no to the cult.”

 

Garrick snapped out of his thoughts, “I’m sorry, what did you say about Larusso?”

 

Jasmin sighed, she should have known her dad wasn’t here with his thoughts; the only way to get his attention was to mention the cult, if only he knew. “I said that Miarna Ann, you know Hion’s daughter, she was saying that Larusso should’ve joined the cult. I think you should check her out, dad, she seemed to know more of it.”

 

Garrick nodded thoughtfully, “But I don’t want to talk about the cult tonight. So tell me, what’s for dinner?” he winked at his daughter, “I was hoping for some of that excellent Baranna of yours.” Jasmin glowed with pride, and served the warm fish stew with elegance.

Edited June 7, 2005 by Sweetcherrie

[Venefyxatu]

Darkness, but no ordinary darkness. This darkness was alive and it had living things inside it. It hid them from his eyes, because the sight of these creatures would be too horrible for his mind, but he knew they were there. He could sense them as he knew they could sense him. He could almost feel their slow movement, almost hear the terrible noises they were making even though there was no sound. Yet they left him alone for he was in the favour of Netkal, at least for now. The darkness opened a bit to reveal a woman's face. It was a beautiful face, with grey eyes that looked just short of sad, framed by brown hair and with a very small birthmark next to the lips.

The darkness opened to reveal something more; the woman was looking at ... darkness. It was a different kind of darkness than the one surrounding him, though. The darkness she was looking at looked ... more alive, somehow. When she bowed, the hem of her skirt moved slightly to reveal a serpent's tail. Then the darkness closed again and he was alone, alone except for the creatures that were always present here.

 

Caleb simply woke up and opened his eyes. It was quite obvious what the vision meant ... maybe a little too obvious. He'd have to be careful interpreting it - he didn't want to make a mistake if there was a prophet of Netkal involved. There was no doubt that she was that, a prophet. The question was : what was she up to? He'd have to think about that later ... Jasmin was coming soon.

Edited June 22, 2005 by Venefyxatu

[Sweetcherrie]

She listened until she heard her father’s snore, and quietly snuck out of the house. She moved quietly, but swiftly through the dark streets until she reached the outskirts of the city. She walked through the forest, as she had done many times before. Only the cult knew where the cult was, and still being a member did not mean you automatically knew where to go. The entrance of the caves was well hidden, and Caleb didn’t trust many people. Jasmin crouched down in the bushes and listened intently if she hadn’t been followed.

 

Nathan was dozing off in a tree when he heard someone approach. They all said he was weird, strange, crazy to sleep in the forest in the trees, between the leaves, high up in the branches, oh yes, they all thought it, and most of them said it as well, but only the Torn One knew that he was guarding the entrance, seeing that nobody found it who didn't have to know about it, always ready to stop anyone, kill them dead if they knew too much, to protect the Torn One and the secrets of the Cult.

 

But this one he didn't have to kill, he could let her enter, the Pretty One was always allowed to go in, she didn't have to be stopped, she was safe and allowed and okay. Nathan held his breath and tried not to move, tried to sit still, so that she wouldn't hear him, wouldn't discover him sitting up in the tree, wouldn't know about him guarding the entrance.

 

When Jasmin was sure that she was alone, she moved towards the tree that was covering the entrance with its branches. The tree had been hit by lightning years before, but had started growing again. The misshaped form was almost touching the floor, and perfectly covered the crack in the floor that gave entrance to the caves. She squeezed herself through the narrow opening and made sure that the branches were back in place before she continued to the main cave. “Even knowing how to find the entrance wouldn’t be of much help,” she thought as she found her way through the maze of caves and sidetracks. Finally she saw the shadows of a fire at the end of one of the tunnels. She stepped out in the darkness, and saw Caleb sitting next to the fire.

 

Caleb sat listening to the soft footsteps approaching. From the sound he could tell that it was Jasmin, and from the sound her breathing made he could tell that she wasn't surprised he knew, “elco'e, Jas'in. Ha'a sseat.” He looked at her and lifted the corners of his upper lip in that ghastly grin of his while she sat down, “What news?”

 

“The daughter of Hion will be investigated,” She said shortly, “So tell me when will be the next ceremony?” She looked at Caleb; she admired him more than he would ever know, more than he was ever allowed to know. Lambert was only for pastimes, and she knew that she would probably never get a shot at the big boss, but power was fatally attractive.

 

"The next cer'ony? In three dayss ... and it'll 'e a grand one, with a ss'ecial ssurrise." He had the impression that she hadn't asked just out of interest ... but he decided that if she wanted something, she'd have to ask.

 

“I was wondering-“ Jasmin nervously flicked her long black hair over her shoulder, “if I could erm…play a special role, next time.” She got the impression that Caleb was inwardly grinning, but it was hard to read him. She fiddled with her necklace, and hoped that this would draw his attention to her breasts, “You see...I would really like to hold the knife once…”

 

Caleb let his gaze wander over Jasmin's body, and then stared into the fire without saying a word. Let her wonder what he was thinking for a few moments ... she had the guts to ask him for a favour, but she should learn to hide her uncertainty more. From the corner of his eyes he could see her struggling with it, but he waited for her to draw breath to break the silence before he spoke himself, interrupting her before she could say a word. "It wass 'out ti'e you sstarted to re'eal your aitions. Tell you hhat ... 'ring one o' the 'eggars to'orrow hhor 'ractise and you can use it ... i' you do well. 'ring hi' to the stone roo'."

 

Jasmin was filled with pride, he thought she was ambitious and he appreciated it, “I will find a beggar,” She thought. “What time do we meet at the stone room tomorrow? The usual?” Caleb nodded shortly, for him the conversation had ended. Jasmin resisted the urge to throw herself in his arms, stood up, and left the cave the same way she had come.

 

Caleb kept his eyes on Jasmin as she left and once more grinned his ghastly grin. The real test would not be the sacrificial practise tomorrow ... he was sure she'd pick the right beggar and that she'd be able to kill him in the proper way. No, the real test would be the ceremony itself. It would be interesting to see how she reacted to the prophet's message ... and to the prophet herself. If she did well, she'd definitely increase her status.

Edited June 7, 2005 by Sweetcherrie

[Patrick]

She could barely breathe in the stink of beer, but inside the empty mug was the best place she had found to be able to hide and listen in on conversations in the bar. As a fairy, Celenia was able to make herself invisible, but keeping up the invisibility for an extended period of time totally drained her of her energy.

 

Conversation was mostly what one would have expected in a bar: small talk about the upcoming harvest, rumors of wars in distant lands, the newest misinformations about the cult, talk about the death of one of the general's lieutenants. Celenia had acted as a spy for Julak many times before and she knew how to sift through the worthless information to find the useful. But so far this night she hadn't found anything useful.

 

The time was well past midnight, when the wind started picking up outside. Most of the regular drinkers had gone home and as far as Celenia could tell from inside the mug there were only four people remaining in the tavern other than the inkeep. She was getting tired and bored, but Julak had asked her to watch the barkeeper and while he was awake she was going to watch him, or at least listen to him. At the moment she could hear him shuffling around behind the bar, frying some sausages for the four still in the tavern, who as the sounds told her were busily playing cards.

 

With a disgusted sound over the lucky streak of one of his playing partners one of the four stood up and walked over to use the restroom.

 

The opening of the tavern door could not be heard over the resounding sound of thunder which rolled over the town. The storm was getting near and from the sound of it, it was going to be a big one. Even inside the beer mug, standing in about three centimeters of beer, Celenia could feel the static electricit stored inside the clouds.

 

She stifled a smallish yawn, then her attention perked as she heard the footsteps approaching the bar. She guessed that the door had been opened when the thunder sounded. She wondered what someone would want in the bar at this time of night.

 

"That is one hell of a storm brewing outside, the whole sky has been blackened by the clouds."

 

"Aye." - was all the barkeeper said, as the smell of fried sausages started mingling with the smell of beer in Celenia's mug.

 

"Can I get you something?"

 

"I've come to talk business not pleasure." - the voice was firm and had an edge of command to it. Celenia wondered who it could belong to. She was pretty sure she hadn't heard the man in town before.

 

"I don't remember ever doing business with you." - the barkeeper said casually, although some uncertainty could be felt in his voice.

 

"Actually we have never seen each other before."

 

The door of the restroom opened and closed again as the card player returned to his seat.

 

"Excuse me for a moment."

 

"Harry! Sausages ready!"

 

A chair creaked as it was pushed back and footsteps came to the bar, then left. The sound of jingling coins told Celenia that money had been exchanged.

 

"So what can I help you with?"

 

Then the barkeep must have noticed the mug on the far end of the counter, and to her alarm Celenia felt the mug moving under her. Before she had the chance to fly out the mug was turned upside down and she fell out, hit the floor, then the beer drenched her totally, and she missed the man's reply. She quickly turned invisible and luckily escaped detection, but was only able to catch what the inn keeper replied to the man.

 

"...don't know where they are. No one seems to know. You'll have to find one of them to know."

 

The man on the other side of the bar laughed.

 

"Thank you my dear inn keep, that is exactly what I had expected to hear. Any of the four of you know the answer to the question I asked him?"

 

The man was obviously talking to the card players. The lack of sound from them meant they had probably just moved their heads. From the new burst of laughter from the man, Celenia guessed the reply had been the same thing.

 

"Well I'll be off to find them then."

 

"What? In this storm?" - during the whole conversation the sound of the rain hammering on the roof had been gradually picking up and the wind howled through cracks in the walls, with the sound of thunder heard frequently.

 

"I've never seen better weather!"

 

He moved away from the bar and opened the door of the bar. Celenia, drenched, stinking of beer and utterly exhausted decided to call it a night. She shook her wings to get the beer off of them and still invisible flew towards the door and just managed to squeeze out while it was still open. She could barely stay immobile in the wind, and needed to break her concentration on the invisibility spell to be able to keep all her energy for flying. It was pitch black outside, the only light coming from the window of the tavern just behind her. But it was enough to illuminate the face of the man, who was looking right at the door behind Celenia. Then a sudden flash of lightning illuminated the street.

 

Celenia recoiled as recognition hit her when she realized that the man hadn't been looking at the door. He had been looking at her. And his face had been one she had hoped never to see again. However it was her shock which saved her as she suddenly stopped beating her wings and the wind blew her away as it would have blown a sheet of paper.

Edited June 7, 2005 by Patrick Durham

[Patrick]

"It shall be made exactly as you ask good sir."

 

The smith smiled inwards. It was not always that he received such a well paying order.

 

"But I shall need a few days, maybe two weeks before it shall be ready. Some of the components are not easy to acquire, and for the frost drake scales, I might have to pay a high price, so if you can give me an advance that..."

 

Julak nodded, while the smith spoke, then interrupted him.

 

"That is completely acceptable."

 

The smith looked surprised, but managed to hide it quite quickly. He had not accepted the man to be so cooperating. Julak handed a small pouch of foreign silver coins to the merchant, who seemed to be more than satisfied by the quantity.

 

"I propose that you come back in a week's time to see whether I have managed to finish. While I can not promise that it shall be ready, I shall try my best."

 

"Good." - Julak said, and the two of them shook hands on the deal.

 

Julak picked up his folded cloak from where he had left it next to the door and opened the door of the smithy, to the sound of thunder off in the distance.

 

"Sounds like a storm is coming." - the smith remarked and then locked the door behind Julak.

 

Julak looked around the street. He could not see anyone who could be spying on him and walked over to the house of Hion Emereus. He could see light coming from under the door, but did not want to disturb at this time of the night. Visitors weren't welcome at this time of the night and his description of what he wanted to the smith had taken several hours, and the time was well past nightfall now.

 

He took out a small piece of parchment from his pack and using a bright red feather, from a species of bird unknown in these parts he scribbled a message on the paper, then folding the paper slipped it under the door.

 

He untied his horse and set out to get the newest information on the movements of the cult and the attempts at stopping their activity, when suddenly he felt something hit him on the right cheek. Thinking it was just a leaf blown by the wind he started brushing it aside, when suddenly he heard the minutest of whispers.

 

"Celenia?"

Edited June 13, 2005 by Patrick Durham

[Appy]

Miarna laughs softly and shakes her head at the foolishness of the boy in front of her. Jertam was almost five years younger than her, but he still insisted on trying to gain her love.

And tried he did, every day since the first time that she bought some cooking herbs from him, now almost three years ago.

 

“Really Miarna, it will be great! There’s this one spot where the sun hits the stones in such a way that they seem to glow from within, and –“

“But you know I always dine with my father, Jertam,” Miarna interrupts, before he can go into detail, “And we have done that ever since he retired, I can’t just leave him without food and the company of his only daughter now could I?”

 

Jertam actually pouts and sighs, “No, I guess not. But I so wanted to show you, that moment always reminds me of you Miarna... everything reminds me of you.” A painful expression flashes across his face and he quickly turns around to rummage in a bag behind him.

 

“I found this on the hill this morning, and thought you might like it..” his voice dripped with uncertainty while he turns around to show her what he has in his hand. It was the most delicate flower she had ever seen, its many pale blue and slender petals curving around a core as yellow as the sun, meaning it was almost white.

“This is beautiful Jertam!” she notices her voice was a hoarse whisper and sees the smile of relief on his face.

“It has the same colour as your eyes you see, that’s why I picked it up to...” his voice trails off again. Not looking straight at her he takes a deep breath and blurts out, “will you.. will you allow me to put it in your hair?”

 

She studies his pleading eyes and decides that this once won’t hurt. The boy has a hard enough life as it is, getting up before dawn to gather the herbs which he and his father then sell on the market that day, well into the evening. They don’t ask much, and they don’t get much. From the look of their clothes and gear they gather just enough money to eat and drink, and sleep somewhere safe.

 

“Alright, you may,” Miarna answers with a smile, as if doing him a great favour.

Jertam’s eyes open wide, and only now does she realise that this would only kindle his hope that she’ll once be at his side, to share his life and love. But now it’s too late as he already gets up quickly and with nervous fingers fumbles the flower between a few strands of hair, just above her right ear.

In a rare and empathic way Miarna’s hand reaches up and touches the flower gently.

‘Now why do I feel nervous too? Silly, no man has ever managed that, and Jertam’s not the one to start that now,’ Miarna thinks while avoiding to look at the young boy in front of her.

She presents her sweetest smiles while walking off quickly “Thank you Jertam, but now I must be off; it will almost be dark when I get home now. Take care!” Without thinking she waves at him and as soon as she realises turns around. Walking with a firm cadence Miarna prevents herself from running.

[Appy]

"That was a very good meal again."

His daughter looked around the corner of the little alcove where she's working away the dishes of tonights meal "What? Speak up, I can't hear you above the storm!"

Feeling slightely annoyed at this Hion repeats himself. "I said, that was a very good meal again, daughter of mine!"

Miarna's smile warms his heart and he smiled to himself while she returned to her task.

His attention was drawn to the slightest of noises near the front door. As he noticed the little piece of parchment on the ground he felt the pressing need arise to open the door and have a look at who put it there.

As silently as he could, Hion got up, walked over to the parchment, picked it up and opened the door just so that only a small beam of light from the candle escapes into the storm.

The figure and horse look unfamiliar, and in this light, there's no telling what he - or she, Hion thought, consciously - might look like. It looked like the rider was busy with something in his hand, but before Hion could decide if he wanted to stop him, the rider kicked his horse and drove off.

This left Hion with only the piece of paper in his hands and the feeling of a missed chance. He had no idea what that chance would've meant for him, but he had followed such feelings and ideas all his life, and wasn't about to stop now. Not even for his daughter, who insisted that he take it easier.

As he walked back to his chair, he opened the parchment and read:

 

 

Thirteen strikes of the clock after the crowing of the rooster meet me

on the square in front of the general's headquarters.

 

The Arcane can quell rising fires

on water as well as underground

A clear sign of interest must be given

To the outside.

 

 

"Is something wrong father?"

Only after hearing Miarna's voice did Hion realise that he had been standing in the middle of the room, staring at the opposite wall, for the past few minutes. He shook his head. "Nothing wrong, nothing wrong.." He clenched his fist, concealing the parchment, and put it in his pocket.

While he continued on his way to his chair he said: " And where did that pretty flower in your hair come from? It must've taken Jertam days to find it, it's a rare variety and not easily found." Sitting down he put a smile on his face while he looked at his daughter's blushing features.

The rest of the evening he listened to her account of today's 'adventures in town', as he liked to call them, and of course, what Jertam had all said or done.

Not once did he dare to think of wether he would follow the parchments instructions or not. Time would tell him, it always did...

Edited July 13, 2005 by Appy

[Patrick]

“Celenia. What are you doing here?”

 

“Julak. I’m so lucky to have found you.”

 

“What happened?” – concern was in Julak’s voice. He saw Celenia’s lips moving, but did not understand what she was saying, as he was swept up in his memories.

 

~Several years ago~

 

“Help…” – the voice was weak, and Julak had nearly not heard it. He turned and looked for the source of the voice. About five feet away, chained to the cavern wall, by the smallest chains he had ever seen he spotted a small creature, barely two inches tall. The creature was chained to a candle, which in a few minutes time would burn down and burn it alive.

 

“I don’t have time, little one.”

 

“Please…”

 

There was something in the voice, it’s pleading quality that made Julak change his mind. He knew if he left the creature chained up that he would forever regret it, and his conscience would never let him rest. Walking the five feet distance, he reached the wall and easily snapped the chains.

 

“You are Julak, right?”

 

“My name has no importance here.” – Julak replied.

 

“I thank you for what you have done. In return let me warn you. What you are preparing to do, no one has ever succeeded in doing. Why would you be the first to not fail?”

 

“You know nothing about me little one.”

 

“Celenia is my name.”

 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to chat. Time is something, of which I wish I would have more.”

 

He turned and started walking away.

 

“Would you take me with you?”

 

Julak turned back, a strange light glimmering in his eyes.

 

“Isn’t it enough if I fail on my own? Do you want me to be responsible for your death too?”

 

“I have heard others in here talk about you. You wouldn’t try if there weren’t a chance for success.”

 

“As soon as he learns that we’ve escaped, he shall hunt down both of us, you are aware of that?”

 

“Isn’t an hour of freedom better than an eternity of imprisonment?”

 

A tear appeared in Julak’s eye.

 

“Come on.” – he said.

 

Freedom was all the little one could think about. In this place it was all everyone thought about. Julak was the only one, who wanted to leave this place because he had been given a mission. A mission, which could change the destiny of the world.

[Patrick]

“What has happened? Celenia?” – Julak asked again.

 

“…is here.” – she tried to say, but clearly she was totally out of breath.

 

“What? Who is here?” – alarm had started creeping into Julak’s normally calm voice.

 

“The hunter is here.”

 

The statement acted as a bolt of lighting, striking Julak numb with shock. For several long moments he was silent.

 

“All has been in vain then…”

 

“All is only in vain, if you yourself lose hope Julak. You have told me of your mission, and you simply can not lose hope.”

 

“He sent Urgbul?”

 

“Yes. Urgbul is the one, who hunts us. I met him in the tavern. He was asking for information about you.” – Celenia was seemingly regaining her strength.

 

“I am no match to Urgbul. If he finds us, all is over, and I shall have failed in my mission.”

 

“Then you must not let him find you.”

 

“Unfortunately Urgbul has an uncanny ability in finding people.”

 

“I know.” – she whispered. – “He caught my brother when he tried to escape. I was forced to watch while they tortured and killed him. His screams of agony, and his painful face shall forever be etched into my brain.”

 

“I’m sorry.” – Julak said. And he meant it. Despite having saved Celenia’s life and having been with her for more than a dozen years he had never learnt much about the small fairy. Although she could do little to help him with his mission apart from gathering information for him, she did that with such a devotion that it surprised even Julak. When he had asked her why she did it, Celenia said that she had a debt to repay. Although love between them would be something extremely unusual, a very close friendship grew between them, and Julak found that he could tell Celenia things, he had not even talked to himself about before. In a certain way Celenia became Julak’s companion in his times of need, helping him through the crisis’s he faced.

 

“We have to get out of town, if Urgbul is here. Do you know where he went?”

 

“No, I was blown away by the wind.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“ I'm just tired, because of my hurried flight. I’m okay.” – she lied.