Pillars of the Kingdom

Chapter Eighteen

From forest to bridge - almost instantly. The group had to do a double-take when faced with their new surroundings. Twenty minutes after encountering the small band of warriors they stared down into a titanic chasm which seemed to have been hewn by the Gods. Across the bridge was a faint dirt road and more woods, yet even Jacin could feel the mystical power coming from the other side. Something deeply, incredibly powerful was waiting there.

The shamaness raised her palm and the power seemed to die down slightly, as if granting the party permission to enter. The lanterns which lined the bridge gave off just a little more light after this gesture, completing the image of a welcoming party. They followed her over the bridge, entering the new forest without trepidation.

“I can hear them,” she said softly to herself, “So much life, so many people. Not a city’s worth, but almost,” Clarice whispered, her eyes shut tightly and the muscles in her ears twitching almost like a dog’s.

“Yes,” the shamaness said as she looked behind herself toward the swordswoman. “A few thousand in this stronghold, nothing more. A city to us, a large town to your people, if that.”

“Amazing,” Kathy breathed, looking from the woman to Clarice with her eyes as wide as a child’s could be while looking in a candy store.

The woods lasted another twenty minutes before they parted, giving way to a large clearing and a number of wooden, sometimes stone buildings. A large lake adorned the center of this village and though the architecture almost looked impoverished by Gataminian standards, Jacin could detect the sheer power in each of these buildings. Straw huts or not, it would take a typhoon to knock even the shabbiest buildings over.

The largest building was a stone castle, almost comparable in size to a mansion. It seemed built to take a siege if things came down to it, though the chasm outside the city would provide defense against such an invasion far better than any wall could. Jacin figured it was purely an ornamental structure.

“Dear Gods,” Jacin heard Branden whisperer breathlessly, “The power...”

“I know what you mean...” The black-armored woman responded in a dark tone. She looked to Serge, who seemed transfixed upon the building.

“So that’s what that is?!” Alan exclaimed, though by the looks of things he wasn’t as shocked as the pale-faced Charles. Kathy seemed composed, but even she seemed worried.

Was Jacin the only sane one?! The power was great, but enough to cause such panic? Each energy source was different, but so far as he could tell they were just powerful and nothing more. Skilled? Maybe, to produce the magically spawned defenses which Shamansen held, but nothing unstoppable.

“Yes,” Branden gasped as he looked back toward Alan. “The power of this place is tremendous, and its assisted by another’s strength. Three in particular, though only one of them is anything like a permanent resident. Is that correct, Shaman-queen?”

The woman looked back and for the first time appeared genuinely surprised. Pleasantly even. “Yes. I do a lot of the spells here, but for now I have a person to help me look this over. You aren’t the only people who have had monsters approach them; and we live in the wilderness, with few fronts to hold a force at bay. Sometimes, we have to hope we’re in time to save lives.”

Jacin shuttered at the thought of what hoping they’d be in time meant.

The party left their horses outside. Even Branden seemed surprised - Coldflame was usually good with being left behind, but even he was sometimes upset by a handler. Every horse, especially Branden’s, seemed to be taking well to the Shaman who approached and took the animals.

“Anyhow,” The leader said as she walked them into the hallways of the castle, “I have a meeting room being prepared for you. If you need to rest a little, you have an hour until the actual meeting, so take a load off.”

“Who are we seeing?” The black-armored woman asked through the silence. The rest of the party, including Branden, did a double-take upon hearing her actually ask a question.

“Our ally, as well as a few of our highest councilors. I need to decide exactly what you should be told and how we should go about this. No offense, after all!” The Shamaness’ words were cheerful, but sincere enough. The Shaman people did not want to lay all their cards on the table and apparently did not fully trust their visitors, either.

“But there were three people, you said?” The black-armored woman asked, a second question being received with a far more mundane reaction than the first. One question from a usually silent person could raise eyebrows, but a follow-up was usually just for clarification.

“Yes, but two of them are finishing up their meeting and departing,” the host replied offhandedly. It was unlikely that the personal business of a diplomat, no matter how strong their auras were, would be disclosed on a simple request from a stranger.

“I see,” said Serge, running a finger along the stubble cropping up from his chin due to days of not shaving. He decided it was quite time to remove that attempt at a beard, as well as high time to perfect his ability to sense auras.

The room the were asked to wait in was stocked with many kinds of juice, including some which Branden had never tasted. There was a fourth mystical presence that, as they were closer to the castle, they could now pick out - But it was not quite what the other two were, though if that were for suppressive reasons or for the fact the new one was just outmatched was beyond him. Branden took advantage of this to attempt honing his sensing; though all he gleaned was that one of these powers felt similar to the black-haired woman he traveled with.

Serge, for what it mattered, went to go take care of that facial hair, spending five minutes in a closed room with a razor and basin of water and leaving with the face of a man ten years younger. Clarice and Kathy were sitting in a corner discussing various political outlooks, and Branden’s blue eyes noted Alan in the opposite corner, striving not to look at them. The man still had his sleeves rolled down as far as they went, hiding the nasty little marks underneath. Oddly enough, Branden noted his eyes drifting over to the black-haired woman and he canted his head. So Alan has a thing for the quiet bitch as well, eh? Shouldn’t be surprised...He thought.

Jacin and Charles were busy speaking about whatever hot girl was on Charles’ mind at the moment. It was mostly just women from Gatamene who he didn’t recognize, though he heard something about a travel companion that he decided would be best left unsaid, lest Clarice blush and Kathy shout. Jacin largely seemed uninterested, though Branden could tell that one or two names really got Jacin going. On top of that, one of those Branden had already met and conquered much to Jacin’s sadness. Gatamene wasn’t a small place, but he got around on his shore-leaves.

An hour passed quickly, and they were summoned by a black-robed male to another room in a different, though nearby section of the palace. As the shamaness had promised, those who focused would find only two of those original powers remaining; a sure sign that the other negotiating party had concluded their business. Of the two remaining, one was clearly the leader of the Shamans, yet the other was ironically the power similar to Branden’s companion. He smiled - Perhaps some light would be shed on the beautiful stranger after all.

The “Chamber of Hearing” was the rather amusing name given to the audience room, and his blue eyes took in every feature - Golden walls, paintings and placards around the room, and a number of tapestries to round it out. Branden took some time to acquaint himself with the beauty that was each piece of work, and he saw one which caused his heart to stop in its beat for just a moment.

One of the paintings on the wall depicted a battle scene, one with a number of banners he didn’t recognize. The painter attempted to capture the picture in some form of religious manner, some figures being larger than others to glorify them, but as he looked closer he could swear that one side fought with very, very familiar black armor on. It was similar to his comrade’s, but it evoked another memory in the process.

“Interesting scene?” Spoke his ally, and he looked to her with a slight smile on his lips. A smile which concealed the pain he hid.

“Yeah, the armor is just a little familiar. Looks like yours. That crest,” he said while pointing at one of the flags, “is the one we saw in that house, I think.”

“It does look similar,” she agreed, “As for the armor, good choice of tailor,” she whispered in a playful tone. Branden looked toward her eyes, but they were focused on the assembly - No, upon one person in particular..

Six people stood in attendance to receive the party - The Shamaness, three men and another woman, each of them looking old except for one of the males; though judging by the leader of the tribe, he could well be twice Branden’s age. These five clearly wore Shaman made clothing and had the feel of authority. The sixth person was an interesting figure overall.

A woman with black hair, straight and short, falling only slightly past her shoulders, stared back at him with the oddest black eyes. These black orbs were seemingly adorned with gold, a strange thing considering there were only hints of it. It made her eyes remind Branden of a cat’s, both for the wisdom and the odd coloration in them. A black sphere, a marble, was held between her fingertips for a moment but was quickly placed in her pocket.

She wore no armor, though her physique showed she was strong enough to wear it, but she chose to carry a strange sword on her left hip. It was something Branden had heard of before, a blade called a “Katana,” yet he’d only seen one or two in his life. A few Gammin warriors chose to use it according to Serge, and he was astounded to sense an incredible magic both around the weapon and around the blade’s sheath. Why the sheath, after all?

This woman was clearly the source of the power like his comrade - She leaked a phenomenal strength with a shockingly dark undercurrent, one which was strongly suppressed yet a part of her as much as her arms. It was almost as if she were at some point in life misguided and drawn to murder, though he knew the Shamans would never permit a crooked person into their territory.

“I see we’re all here to begin. I don’t have most of your names, so shall we recite them?” Serge was polite, yet something about the idea of a recitation of names made Branden shiver in the way that a long car ride made children nervous.

The councilors each took a turn. They had only one name each, and they were in a tongue so foreign that Branden almost instantly forgot them the moment the person stopped speaking. Of course, if he heard a word similar to them his memory would snap the pieces together but it was all a blur in his head - A blur of long names which were hardly comprehendible.

The leader of the tribe looked toward them, in particular Branden’s expression of confusion, and she too recited a long name. Then, she added with a smile, “Starsen for short. I know its overwhelming”

“Sarinal” threw in the black-haired girl, looking straight at the party, looking her spiritual doppelganger in the eyes with a blank expression on her face.

“Now, may we have yours?” Starsen asked in a polite voice, goading each person with that beautiful smile.

The list was run through, Branden even giving his with a respectful bow, yet the black-armored female stared to Starsen, than to Sarinal. Resignation was clear in her face.

“Lilith,” she whispered in a cold voice. She looked right into Sarinal’s eyes, angrily even. Something seriously unsettling was going on, though what it was couldn’t quite be identified - Do these two know one another, Branden wondered, or does something about one’s energy set the other off?

He paused to think about it; Sarinal was incredibly powerful, easily on par with himself and his four comrades - Only Serge and perhaps Clarice could stand against Sarinal of the people he was currently with. Lilith was ever so slightly outmatched, he felt, but he couldn’t be sure how much of Lilith he’d really seen against Jagger.

They looked similar enough, aside from the stark difference in eye color, to pass for being sisters. While Lilith’s hair had a slight wave to it, Sarinal’s was silky smooth. They both had similar auras, and even the same sort of weaponry - Though Sarinal’s was a little different in exacts, both weapons appeared to have the same general function of making broad slashes.

The two smiled at one another curtly, then the heated moment was disturbed by Starsen. “Glad to see you all have been acquainted. Now here is the lowdown on what we think is happening,” With that, she pointed downward.

A large map of the local area was mounted on nothing less then the floor, and the party scattered like pigeons to get a look at it. Shamansen was marked with a large castle, while a pair of large question marks existed not far from there - The first was to the north and west, the second to the north and a hint to the east. This one was underlined, as if to mark a stronger possibility.

“As you might infer,” Starsen said while looking at the faces of some of the group’s members, “We believe one of these two locations is a center for the activity currently being undertaken against both ourselves and you. We suggest the underlined as the place to start.”

Lilith looked at Branden, canting her head to the side. “I think that’s it. That’s the general area of the spot I mentioned to you. To the north and the east.”

“Oh?” Branden responded with surprise. Starsen looked up at Lilith, as did Sarinal. Neither woman had any sort of strong feelings on display.

“You’re suggesting that’s it?” The Shamaness questioned.

“Yes,” responded Lilith, looking from Sarinal to Starsen with a smile, “I was on a mission to enter this ancient location. The relics there are fabulous to behold, from what I’ve heard, and this group I’ve fallen into contact with is perfect for the task.”

Yet more motivations for her actions leapt into Branden’s mind. Sarinal and Starsen looked to each other yet again, Starsen seeming somewhat concerned with this new suggestion, yet Sarinal nodded her head once and said nothing.

“I thi...” Started one of the councilors, arguably the one with the longest name, though Branden admitted he wouldn’t be surprised if any of the other names had an intricate spelling which increased length needlessly.

“I’m for this course of action,” Sarnial stated quickly. To cut a leader off suddenly was not at all respectful, yet the assembly just looked surprised she’d spoken. The other councilors, looking somewhat surprised, nodded their heads.

“Motion passed,” Starsen whispered. She was just like every other of Shamansen’s leaders- flabbergasted at the sudden change of pace in their planning.

“Thank you,” Lilith responded, looking away from the group as she turned toward the door. None saw the surprise of the councilors mimicked on her own.

Chapter Nineteen

The ensemble was surprised to learn it would not be obtaining any aid until something had been done to reduce the crisis. The Shamans claimed impotence - That their manpower was so minuscule that even their weaker magic users were in constant defense of the lands. Certainly the archer-filled greeting Clarice and her comrades had received was proof enough that they were at least on their toes.

The north-eastern journey went smoothly. For two days they enjoyed the same clearings as they had on their way toward the encampment, and on that second night Serge was standing guard - Or rather, sleeping guard. The old knight had dozed off.

“And what are you doing unconscious?” Clarice whispered as she tapped him on the shoulder. As brazen as this move was, she’d been waiting almost ten minutes to decide how to handle this, watching his plate mail rise and fall in a slow rhythm.

The old man awoke slowly, looking up at her with a smile. “I know this feeling, sweet one. It’s the feeling of a place where we are extremely unlikely to be attacked. The Shamans are still watching this place, or we wouldn’t have the road or clearing that we have.” Serge yawned, blinking his eyes all the while.

“If you call slightly thinned woods a road,” Clarice responded sardonically before sitting down next to him. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

Serge looked at her, then shook his head. “I almost don’t believe,” he said, “that you’d ask an old man like me anything. Are you dying or something?” That playful grin she’d come to associate with him was plastered on his face - Not so much that of a playboy looking for a girl (as Branden had come to wear as much as Charles) but of a man who enjoyed the ups and downs of life simply because new experiences excited him and old ones comforted him.

“Well, old badger,” she said with a hesitant smile to respond, “I am. I need some advice on romance.” Apparently she felt like she was dying, so it summed things up quickly enough.

Serge once again shook his head clean of the sleep which he felt was imposing such statements upon him. “I don’t know I’m the right man to speak to,” he began, “My wife died years ago, and Branden was enough of a child to us that we raised him as our own, almost.”

Well, Clarice let it remain silent that she didn’t know Serge had been married. “I’m sorry to hear it; but you still can’t be incompetent. You’ve got the charisma of a sex god.” The darkness hid her blushing - Had he been a little younger, she might well have fallen for him instead of Kathy.

Serge laughed heartily and shook his head. “I disagree, but thank you for the compliment. Anyway, let me tell you what I know already.” This approach was pretty new to Clarice. “I know that you and that girl Kathy are fairly involved. She’s strange, but I don’t have anything against her. Branden also told me that Alan is fiercely attracted to you. I’m going to suppose it has something to do with that, but I could be wrong.”

Clarice remained silent for a time, almost long enough for Serge to question his judgement. “Yes,” she whispered, “I like Alan too, but Kathy was the first to woo me and I really do care for her too. Presians...” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Presians would burn me at the stake for my love of Kathy, just like they tried to do with Cassandra for having the Arcane at her fingerips, and Alan isn’t all too un-influenced. He’s from the south of Coaslund.”

Serge understood. Geographically speaking, southern Coaslund had many Presian influences, and many of them worshiped Sheng-Li, the Patron-Avatar (or saint, or God, or whatever you’d wish to call him) of the fanatical religious kingdom. The influence of their extremely conservative teachings was fairly evident in Alan’s actions. “Please,” he responded, “go on.”

“I...I don’t know if Alan thinks it’s that he’s not good enough. I want to tell him its not his fault, that he’s very close to me and if Kathy weren’t here I’d be with him, but he gets so angry about it and clams up so coldly that I can’t help but get mad. He drives me insane, honestly, because if he just said something I might believe he’s sincere and not just after sex.”

Serge nodded his head almost complacently, adding something. “Consider, of course, that Alan isn’t the most experienced one on the block. I’ll guess that his religious beliefs never made him many friends in Rhinegeld, so an attractive woman couldn’t help but impact him. But you have to be honest with yourself - You love both of them, and that’s not wrong...But you can’t leave one for the other, and you can’t force him to understand you like Kathy and are already with her.”

She was silent, and Serge again questioned his words; perhaps he’d gone too far? But she spoke up silently, almost choked. “I...I really care for him, but you’re right. I can’t make him accept what I am, and I can’t leave Kathy for him without a good reason. She wanted me to be alone for some time, and I was, but it didn’t help. I love them both, I think, but the way Alan is I think I love Kathy more.”

She didn’t sound too assured, and Serge was glad for this - If she’d just snapped to a judgement, it meant she wasn’t considering all sides of the situation, but Serge nodded his head approvingly. “I think you’ll be fine, doll. Just keep your chin up.”

“And you, Serge, stay awake during guard duty.”

*****
He stood, first, in a nice field much like those in Gatamene. The grass threw occasional specs of pollen toward him and he swung his spear once just to watch the dust scatter in the air, slain by the passing blade. He thrust it upward and, much to his surprise, there was a body suddenly impaled upon it.

The black armor, ever so familiar, was penetrated easily and the feeling of malaise which struck him in the very instant the assumed rival appeared faded, replaced with many others of equal or possibly greater darkness.

His comrades were there, each partaking in the slaughter; but he couldn’t see Alan or Serge. There were others fighting, so the large force was likely concealing some of his friends from view, as Clarice was soon to be encircled by various warriors.

Jacin took this as a heartening venture, grinning as he parried another blow with his spear and raised the blade faster then even he intended, splitting the enemy’s helmet and head in one fell swoop. Another and another, until he was encircled with the bodies of these men.

He realized, in a fleeting moment, he had no idea who he was fighting against! That not one of them he knew, and he couldn’t even remember walking here. He thought for a minute he must have been dreaming, but as he lowered his guard in that one instant a sphere of black light smashed into his chest, causing him a small jolt of pain. He looked up to see it followed by a much larger, more ominous black fireball, one which he simply raised a palm to and deflected away.

The battle continued, but it started looking worse and worse for his party. Though none of his comrades fell or, so far as he could see, endured a single wound, the contest was long and their staminas were collapsing. Charles, for all his strength, had backed up against Jacin and formed a unit to keep them from having to spin; a minor conservation of strength, but it would help nonetheless.

Suddenly he was standing, unwounded and breathing heavily, within an ancient chamber of...Well, it was dark, so he couldn’t quite tell what was there, but the few lights that were on made it seem as if the place had been a computer room.

“Visit both places, even though only one is essential to your aims.” Spoke a voice. He turned to face the source of the sound and saw himself. No...Not quite himself, because the image of himself was something his mind had created of another person who looked much like him. But even this facade started to change, becoming instead and elderly man who wore a military-like outfit with medals virtually unrecognizable.

The voice itself had been touched by a strong accent, one he couldn’t place, and while a very few of the medals looked familiar, ultimately none of them were signs he knew the meaning of. Suddenly he locked onto one, just one, which was instantly recognized. On the top of the mans hat was an insignia he’d seen only a few times - It was the very same mark that the King of Emor wore atop his crown.

Stepping backwards, Jacin felt hands shaking him.

“Dude, wake up, you’re flipping the hell out man, wake up!” Charles whispered harshly into his ear.

He snapped into consciousness, but he couldn’t help recalling how vivid that dream had been. He struggled to go back to sleep.

*****
“So,” the woman said to Alan as she looked him dead in the eye, black eyes staring at his green ones with a great deal of trepidation. She’d called him out into the woods for an illicit meeting, and after a little affectionate pawing she’d decided it was time to get down to business.

“Yes, pretty one?” Alan responded without much in the way of concern. Business, pleasure and boredom were all the same to his baffled mind. He looked her unarmored figure over for a moment, admiring the slender curves of the woman’s slightly exposed hips, his palms resting on her sides and holding her shirt open.

“You know, you’re too good for this group,” she offered to him. He looked at her rather confused, and she decided to explain. “Your power is untapped and keen, like the edge on your spear-shield. I confess you’ve got a lot more potential than most people give you credit for and you’re so, so sweet,” she crooned.

Perhaps somewhere in the back of Alan’s head he heard warning bells go off, but a gentle touch from the back of her hand to his lips silenced those bells and incited a myriad of different feelings in the back of his mind. He managed to sputter “What do you mean?”

“I mean you should consider how they’ve treated you,” she said as nonchalantly as such a topic could be discussed. “I’m just proposing that you haven’t been treated well by most of these people, and maybe its time you moved on? If a good opportunity presents itself, like...” She paused then grinned to him. She leaned her body against his and whispered into his ear “maybe me?”

He gave a faint smile and nodded his head. “Maybe you’re right, m’lady. Still, I don’t really know you that well, and you don’t intend to do anything silly,” he said with a gentle kiss to her lips. “I could see myself falling in love with you.”

“Alan, my dear,” she responded with a nod. “I could see it as well. And it will be good!” A chuckle as she kissed him again, returning to the activities they’d partaken in before the short discussion; not illicit but not clean by Alan’s usually high moral standard.
*****
Halfway through the next day, some time around one in the afternoon, they’d started to come across rotting trees. Another ten minutes of walking and most of the tall birches, grass, flowers and bushes had some level of mold or decay attached to them. A strange sensation caused them to shiver just a little in discomfort.

“What the hell?” Charles asked as he noticed the wilting creating a large path for their approach. Boot prints - Easily marked as armor by their sheer width - were firmly pressed into the ground through what might well have been eons of migration.

Serge seemed to pause for a moment, and with a faint wince he looked to the group. “Make sure your armor is on and ready,” he said needlessly - The party only had to snap a few buttons together to fully assemble their armor, and most had finished this process already. “Be ready for anything that might happen. I don’t trust this, the damage is not just physical.”

Kathy readied her rifle and loaded in a crystal, while preparing a second weapon in case she needed it. This silver handgun was an old model which fired bullets, not energy. Most of the rest simply continued to adjust their gear and made sure it was on tight, Alan setting his spear-shield into place.

“I don’t like the feel of this place,” Branden whispered, looking over to Clarice for a moment. She’d closed her eyes, presumably to listen to detect any threat. He shrugged and continued on, patting his horse once on the top of his head to encourage him. “Shhh, good boy,” he whispered into its ear. Something about this was familiar - Too familiar

The party continued onward for another half of an hour, the woods degenerating from bad to almost unspeakable. The trees weren’t the only dead things, as Clarice was most startled about. Her jolting in her seat nearly caused the group to draw blades, but she shook her head and pointed forward in the road.

There lay a very disturbing sight - An animal which was clearly dead, laying on the side of the trail. A deer from the looks of it, Branden shivered and made a motion with his hand, covering it in magically formed ice.

“Why’d you do that?” Jacin asked in a rather startled voice. To use power on a dead creature seemed rather odd.

“Because it blocks the smell,” Clarice responded, looking to the ice-wielder, “Thank you.” She said nothing else, so it was assumed that she couldn’t smell another living thing in the area that might be a threat.

“No problem,” Branden replied with a little wink over toward Jacin. Immediately after that gesture he remembered Alan might just get angry if he saw it; and soon after he realized he didn’t care.

The journey only grew worse, though thankfully no more corpses were discovered. Clarice seemed especially grateful that the only scent to assail her senses was that of rotting wood; almost pleasurable rather than nauseating.

The ground finally grew all but barren; long, slender poles with skeletal branches rose from the ground, the floor of the woods had turned somewhat dusty with sand flowing in the breeze, and the few bits of grass which adorned the ground were, at best, a sickly yellow.

The ground descended in a gentle slope, suddenly becoming nothing more then a small crater with a mound in the center. As they approached, Jacin blinked his eyes. The images were clear, but they faded so fast he hardly noticed he’d stopped breathing; nobody else, of course, was any better at telling than him.

A vision, a symbol akin to a circle split in half. One side spun ontop of the other and the colors seemed to swirl, the key locking into place and the travesty beginning.

He didn’t know what these odd visions were, but he noted Branden’s face turn awfully pale. Frost leapt from his horse and moved over to the sealed door. It was metallic and had two large handles. He reached for one and tugged.

One could liken Branden’s strength to a giant’s. He could leap over a hundred feet vertically, could likely fling a human being just as far, and yet this door resisted this might without even creaking.

“What the hell?” Charles said, echoing the sentiment he provided an hour ago. He looked upward and pointed to a silver engraving which hung above the door, a banner almost akin to one declaring “Visit Joe’s Tavern!” Embedded in this was a poem, one written long ago yet one that remained unaffected by the world’s traumatic nature:

Sanguine shadows and silver distraction

The King of Mercy sent his angels

A cessation to The Onslaught

Yet poorly the war went
The mighty did fall, the carnage did cease

The fact remained undisputedly true

One servant, to his home, he did not return

A traitorous beast among those the King had sent
His gold turned to blood and his blade to the dark

He serviced a lord and a defeat came his way

As the Merciful One triumphed, he heard his fallen son’s plea

No sincerity given, no mercy received.
To this tomb came the heathen

to the treasures he’d hoarded

now the holy dark ones came to call

And their ranks joined by the one who deceived.

“Look,” Lilith pointed out, inadvertently drawing the group’s attention from the words. A hand was moved in the direction of the gate and, though Jacin nearly got the words out first, Lilith declared “there’s a locking mechanism.”

Sure enough, the device was a large circle, half of it red and half of it green. The green half was recessed, save for one circle on that side which was red. There was a hole, oddly enough, on the red side and underneath it was green. Branden looked to the circle and noticed that it wasn’t cut in half as if one were slicing a pie, but there was a curvature that made it appear almost as if the one half were a ball of flame chasing the other, and the two were like dogs - Chasing the other’s tail while never catching it.

“Reach inside the one circle and pull it toward the other,” Jacin said, drawing surprised looks from everyone. Even Serge looked surprised, and Lilith might well have been the most shocked of all. “Just set them into one another and the doors will open.” He didn’t know how this knowledge entered his head almost magically, and he wound up chalking this idea up to a lucky guess based on what he saw.

Lilith looked at Jacin again while leaping from her horse, then looked at Branden. His blue eyes were affixed upon her’s, and she nodded her head once, a grin forming on her lips. “Do it.”

Branden returned the gesture and reached his fingers into the notch. He pulled it around, the metal moving soundlessly as he raised it then pulled it down. The circles slipped into one another and the soft clicking of a lock opening was heard. Truthfully, he’d expected louder. He stood back from the door and looked inside the darkness. It was time - This was the first tomb of those who killed his father.

“That’s done. We should go inside now,” Lilith declared with a little smile on her lips. She approached the group and passed them as they gathered their gear to enter. She stepped into the entrance and looked back at Branden and the rest. “Unfortunately I don’t think anyone but me is going to make it.” She looked to Alan for a moment, then canted her head.

“Huh?” Clarice asked with a shift of her shoulders, the rest of the group dropping to the ground almost at the same time Clarice did. The soft sounds of feet landing after dismounting an animal’s back was doubled by the sound of wind blowing in the grass. Clarice closed her eyes, then opened them rapidly.

“...No,” Serge said after a short pause. As the metallic doors started to open on their own, two things happened simultaneously. First, they separated a little then exploded outward with a limitlessly powerful gust of wind, and second Lilith’s armor changed, glowing with red light which quickly transformed into a green one.

The entire group, save one person, spread out to defend themselves from the wind. Branden, however, stood trembling without much going on in his widened eyes.

“You alright kid?” Serge asked in a soft voice toward his pupil. “Lilith, what are you doing?! There’s something way too powerful for us in there!” Serge had obviously felt it out; and he wasn’t the only one to detect the incredible darkness. Even Jacin, with a shiver down his spine, had to admit the elder was right - There was something unreal inside.

“What is this about?” Branden asked in a soft voice. He looked over towards Lilith and did nothing more mature than stand and stare at her.

“Good...Question,” Alan asked as he ran his fingers over his lips, feeling her lips on his from last night. Was this what she meant by his going to a new future?

“You’ve been our ace in the hole. The gate, as you noticed, had magic,” Lilith explained “An Arcane binding which keeps those who are Godtouched from opening them. Or touching them, for that matter.” She almost seemed lazy, as if...As if she had won some great victory.

“God-touched?” Jacin asked questioningly. Clarice looked to the old man, who had dropped his sword hand down to his hip.

“I...The Gammin Scrolls mentioned something like that, Earth-Touched. What the hell do you mean, Lilith?” Serge asked in a questioning voice. He took a step to the side, to get a better view of her, and saw the very same symbol as the gate bore, only on Lilith’s armor. Memory stirred.

“Please, Sir Lenkmen,” the short boy with blue hair whimpered as he held his father’s friend closely. He held up the small drawing. “This is the mark, the one I drew for you. Help me kill them. Help me get daddy’s revenge. All those who died at their hands for no reason...”

“You!” Serge said as he quickly drew his blade. The entire party save Branden followed, and Lilith matched pace by drawing her broadsword. Not one of them seemed to understand why Serge had readied his weapon, but they trusted something was ready to explode.

“I only have one question,” asked Branden. As he spoke another thirteen pairs of footsteps could be heard by one pair of ears, a small cadre of men approaching.

“Company, coming fast! We’re surrounded, possibly even fucked!” Clarice exclaimed as she looked around the group. She was the best at sensing ambushes and when she said one was coming, chances are one was coming.

“Why me, why my family, why all of this shit?!” Branden screamed loudly as he grasped the handle of his weapon. Control was most certainly a moot point in Branden’s mind. Most of the newcomers approached from the rear, cutting off the only escape route. Four of them, however, moved to flank Lilith.

Each wore the same black armor, fitted to their size of course, and with the same blood and venom droplet coming from a dagger in their armor. The image burned into Branden’s skull caused him to tremble even more violently. They had many types of weapons, and one of them even purported to have no weapons but his fists.

“Easy. We can’t touch it, you can. We got you to the very point you are at now, put you in the situation you’re at right now, and guess what?” She said with a smile, “There’s nothing you can do. You’ve seen me fight; and you only saw half my speed. By your second step,” Lilith said with a soft laugh, referring to Branden’s method of charging forward, “you’ll be dead.”

Branden was silent, and he reached through his trembling for his saber. The blade drew smoothly, but it was a mystery to all how he managed not to jam it against the edges of its sheath. He was completely berserk, and the look in his eyes was not sane in the least.

“What are you going to do? Fight to the death? You’re not much better than your father, and he was nothing to us!”

“...Can’t they come up with anything better?” Charles said with a faint grin on his lips. He looked to Jacin, who was standing ready, and he raised his shield. This battle was shaping up to be a quick one, as much as he hated to admit it. He’d be dead soon, so it wouldn’t much matter if he made a few lame jokes.

“It’s a tradition to talk a lot of trash before a fight. All I have to say is you’re already dead.” Branden said without emotion in his voice, going suddenly cold. The rage was still there but he’d contained it underneath something even more terrifying.

“You’ve...Never killed before,” Serge plead, as if it might get through to him. The blue hair moved as he looked back over his shoulder, a look of absolute absence on Branden’s face. Serge felt some of his old fears about the boy’s skill returning. Truth be told, however, Serge didn’t care if he did kill every one of these - Either Branden would or he would.

“I have never killed a human, nor will I consider this killing a human!” Branden said as his lips barely seemed to move. From that point on, things got strange even in Serge’s book.

Lilith leapt forward, her sword swinging right at Branden, then right through him. Branden’s body seemed to flicker for a moment, re-appearing just as soon as it vanished. Lilith? She’d become very still, terribly so after the sword passed through the thin air, and her armor was crumbling to dust as blood began to flow from underneath.

“...Gods...How? I’m an...A...” She whispered weakly, her body suddenly exploding into nothing less gruesome then a pile of meat.

The four men surrounding her were reduced to the same fate with four more blinks from Branden’s body.

“How the fuck is this happening?!?!” Charles screamed loudly, echoing various cries of the remaining men around the group. Jacin, Clarice, and every last member of the party shared the fear that held the moment.

“We are the Saints!” Exclaimed one of them, thrusting his fist into the air. Alan merely stared at the figure of what used to be Lilith and knew very, very well what she’d originally intended - She wanted him to join this cadre of demons.

The unarmed man advanced toward Branden, finding himself to be the only one of these Saints that advanced. One blink for each enemy, and the entire collection of Saints had been slashed into various levels of death by Branden’s blade.

“...I thought you had to accelerate to maximum speed? The Four-Step-White-Out your father used?” Serge said hesitantly.

Branden looked back over his shoulder at the old man, who gasped at the sight he observed. Branden’s eyes were filled with tears; he was crying, perhaps even as he killed each one of them. His hand was still trembling as he sheathed the blade.

“I can snap into my best on a whim, it just takes...” His words were interrupted by a gentle cough. “A lot of my strength. I’m pretty worn out.” He sobbed softly, looking downward as he tapped his sword’s pommel to ensure it was in place and secured.

“You never...Killed before,” Clarice managed to whimper, staring at one of those who he’d dismembered while echoing one of Serge’s earlier statements. Not one body looked like anything more distinct than a cut of beef.

“And they aren’t human enough to deserve consideration in my kill tally,” Branden said through his tears.

*****
“He’s good.” Spoke the black haired woman to her friend, as well as to the two robed strangers. She had to admit, she liked them all. Branden especially, she had to concede. She looked down toward the black marble in her fingertips and placed it in her pocket.

“Yes,” Starsen responded from the distance. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Well, he’s trained by my friend,” Spoke the black-robed man, his white hair tied in a pony tail underneath his hood. Only a few strands of those locks were visible.

“I don’t know. Love, what do you think?” The woman he was with, also wearing black robes but with white and green trimmings on them, smiled. The mark of the Arcanic’s Council was over both their hearts; the First and Second insignias of their conclave. She raised her palm and a small orb of light appeared.

The sphere quickly formed into Branden. It showed him standing, showed the sword of the dark armored one raise and slash, the blade touching right against his armor as he swayed toward the blade then away from it.

It looked as if his ribs were about to snap, but he became a living slingshot and fired himself away from the Saint. His sword made the first blow as he passed, then a second followed by a third, fourth...Sixth...Twelfth....Thirtieth....Seventy Seventh...One hundred blows from all directions in the time it took to blink an eye.

The process was repeated to each of the remaining thirteen men. The power this trick had to consume was immense, and the physical strain was evidenced slightly in one cough, yet it wasn’t the sheer strength of the technique which had the four gathered people together.

“Cassandra, you’d say he’s really reliable?” The black-haired woman asked.

“Yeah. Not vulnerable to the mystical control of what’s inside, and if things get really bad we can bail them out.”

“No,” spoke the black-robed Arcanic as he shook his head.

“It is as you feared?” The Shamaness asked tentatively.

“Shade, we can’t let them die.” His lover whispered, confident in his skill but still displeased.

“We may have no choice. I have to confirm it.” Shade replied with sadness in his voice.

“Damn. And here I thought it didn’t matter,” Sarinal sighed.

“Yup. It might be time to go home.” Shade whispered with a frown. “Miss ‘Sarinal,’ head toward Castle Emor. Starsen, be prepared to do what you can for our friends. Cassandra and I will handle our private affairs and return as quickly as possible.”

The two magic users were suddenly gone. The woman was running eastward after a small bow, and Starsen south after the same gesture. Their plan was clearly in action.