CHAPTER X

The gnome. The bandit. The Praliv.

The Great Gnome Explosion of Thyslameran was just as much a legend as Lanuiam, if not, it be even more a legend. The Explosion had brought the extinction of the race of Tyrons, and left no surviving gnomes in what was now recalled as the Sunken City. No gnome would ever speak of it, for the shame was far greater a loss than that of their dead ancestors.

At the time, Nill Morou was a growing city, with hopes to expand and soon flourish. Its beloved and honored founder, Scrye Kinorui, knew he required a system of transportation for its resources. With resources, would bring people, and with people would come economy. He also knew with out resources, economy could not stabilize. They all depended on each other, for without, Scrye’s dream would die.

He discovered the presumed Altar of the gods at the end of an expedition to Mitonge, the valley of stars and sand. He had heard legends of the great wonders that would await him past its borders. He never found the valley he had dreamt of since he was a child. In his failure and misery he wondered out into the desert, welcoming death with arms raised and curses to the stars.

He felt his pleas had been answered upon the discovery of the magnificent Altar. He strongly believed the gods had heard his cry to the heavens and built him this Altar as a message: his dreams would come alive.

Scrye was born alone. He had no known family, and sought none for comfort. He would be, for years to come, revered for his strange optimism. In his entire plight, he kept moving, dreaming of the next love that would come to his heart; determined to find the identity he believed the gods blessed all.

This Altar brought Scrye sanction.

Within a matter of seasons he had a small city, with hopes to expand it beyond his wildest imagination. He would send messengers on foot and horseback to seek anyone who would willingly join the cause. Meanwhile, Scrye and a small group of mercenaries would spend night and day developing the town of his dreams.

Just when many of Scrye’s workers were about to give up and began abandoning the poor man to sulk in his dreams, a young gnome came to him with an idea. The gnome went by the name Urop and led a band of gnomish mercenaries, with a plan to raid the desert city of Thyslameran. Urop refused to unveil his plans for Nill Morou, for unknown reasons, but in desperation Scrye made a deal with the gnome. Urop was to invade the city of Thyslameran, and enslave the Tyrons. When this was done, Scrye would pay him and Urop would make his designs known.

The invasion of Thyslameran took shorter than expected. After only a few tries, Urop and his band of gnomish mercenaries resorted to explosive devices, blowing many of the Tyrons out of their city. The remaining few were enslaved and used to later work in long, dark tunnels. The female Tyrons would not be sent to work in the tunnels, but for only means to mate and produce more Tyrons that would either be destined to slavery or reproduction.

Scrye was unaware of what was being done to the Tyrons, and would remain ignorant of the hideous torture for the remainder of his days.

Tyrons, big, hulky, blue sand creatures, walked on four legs, pulling ropes and various strung pulleys that would lift large platforms bearing crates. A leather cord would be tied on a belt that was strapped around the animal’s mouth. The cord was held by a gnome who pulled it in the direction to travel through the winding, intersecting, underground tunnels. The Tyron’s jaw was big enough to eat a family of gnomes, and its teeth were sharp enough to chew through anything. Its stumpy legs were muscular and its feet had claws that curved downward. Tyron’s had great traction and perfect balance. One swipe of its long spiked tail would shatter any man’s bones, sending its victim to their grave in a matter of seconds.

The city of Thyslameran was built inside of a massive crater. Constructed purely of logs and rope, it was a grand city that catered to the whims of Nill Morou. A trading pact had been made with the Anyrians of Alderloom. The gnomes promised the ancient race their protection if ever needed, and a fair share of the profit made from the trade routes to Nill Morou. The King of the Anyr, Himrayel Kostayden agreed on a sign under penalty of death if ever betrayed.

With the trading pact sealed with the Anyr, the gnomes built the tunnel leading from Alderloom to Thyslameran, in which they drove the Tyrons with whips to transport resources to the growing city. Once the Tyrons would reach Thyslameran, the resources would be distributed to gnome gliders, who flew across the desert to Nill Morou. Monstrous sand-driven, wind-blowing towers were stationed all over the desert to keep the gnomes gliding to their destination, where they would sell their resources to merchants, who would sell their stock to the people of Nill Morou in return for profit.

This system proved to be flawless for seasons to come, until one night, a horde of bandits came riding in to Thyslameran from Sheergoth, with plans to sabotage the remarkable growing trading system between the gnomes, the Anyr, and Scrye Kinorui. Warnings had been sent to Urop countless times of the coming bandits, but he chose to shrug it off, pretending to know well the ways of the bandits. The gnomes would follow him either way, pretending not to care, and never question Urop’s judgment. Unfortunately, this was their downfall.

The gnomes had been stealing business from the bandits since their ingenious trading route flourished. The bandits, head of another city long gone out of existence, slowly lost its entire people who fled to Nill Morou in hopes for something better; new and exciting. The bandits of Sheergoth then sent threats to the gnomes, ordering them to stop, or otherwise make an agreement with them. Receiving no answer from Thyslameran, the bandits planned to ride there in an effort to sabotage the trade route.

That night of the Great Gnome Explosion, the bandits slipped into the city, unnoticed, and planted the gnome’s own explosive devices all around the edge of the city. In a great blast of fire and sand, the city was buried, collapsing the underground tunnels, wiping the Tyrons out of existence, and killing thousands of gnomes. Though many despised the bandits for their crime, they were more disappointed in the gnomes for their stupidity and ignorance. For this, the race of gnomes was since then treated as the lowest class race in existence. The gnomes fled to a distant corner of the land, building their own civilization away from humanity in their embarrassment.

Scrye Kinorui was lost and scared for his people. He was growing very old and coming to the end of his lifetime. He knew the fate of Nill Morou rested in his hands.

The merchants, realizing they had no more supplies to make a profit with, and closing out their businesses, grouped together to form a single organization. They traveled far to the land of Alderloom, making a strong pact with the Anyr and their new king, Havashean Kostayden, who had succeeded the previous King, his father, who had passed away with age. Havashean had proved to be a strong leader, and the people trusted his decision, giving him full support. For many seasons to come he would seek to strengthen his people and do many great things. The pact of the merchants was his first of many achievements.

With the passing of Scrye Kinorui, the city of Nill Morou entered a time of peace and prosperity. From there, its population grew and the merchants continued to travel from city to city in caravans, delivering food and supplies harvested from the city of Alderloom.

Though the city of Nill Morou was at rest and finally settled, there were still many dark parts just as any large city would have. A large factory to the south eastern corner of Nill Morou had been abandoned after the Great Gnome Explosion of Thyslameran. It had been used to store vast amounts of resources brought from Alderloom, but after the devastating occurrence, was left to waste away and be forgotten.

Over the seasons, various cults worshipping demonic gods would use this abandoned factory for their gatherings and sacrificial rituals. This was indeed the darkest part of town no one would venture into. No one brave enough, except for Aaydan.

Speeding through the dark streets of Nill Morou that were lit dimly by the glowing torches, a caravan was racing to the abandoned factory with Aaydan on top, hanging on for dear life. He wouldn’t dare yell a word, now that he was in unknown territory, and had a feeling he wasn’t safe. The piper kept silent, and the young boy inside the caravan didn’t make a noise either. The only noise was the sound of the horses galloping and the caravan rumbling over a gravel path.

The moon was hiding behind the army of dark clouds, highlighting large portions of the sky and creating a dreamy enigma; almost a thick mist that was magnificently shiny from the starlight. A blue hue enveloped the moon, its brilliance as bright as blue fire in a furnace, and its beauty as break-taking as life born into a new born child. The serene aura brought a smile to the piper’s face that shed a small tear. “Homesick”, the piper mouthed silently, looking back to the trail ahead of him, keeping a close watch on the dark path for sharp turns and obstacles.

Aaydan could feel his own grasp slipping. Bearing the pain, he pulled himself closer to the center of the top of the caravan; his hands were cold and brittle. Eyes shut, he huddled there, pulling his robes over his head, and tugging his black hat down to keep the chill wind out of his face. Soon the caravan would stop. Soon he would find out what the hell was going on.

Hiding in the storage compartment of the caravan, Tacris struggled for air. If only he had realized sooner than means to breathe would get in he way of hiding. But for some reason, the coffin-like door would not open from the inside. A tremendous amount of weight was on top of him and would not budge. Luckily, when he had trapped himself in there, he found a block of smoked cheese, and a loaf of bread. When he was done eating, he just lied there, waiting for the caravan to stop moving, and hoping to be able to escape.

A few more minutes passed by until the caravan finally came to a sudden halt. This jolted the door of the compartment open, and sent Tacris flying out the back of the caravan. Tacris groaned, lying on his stomach, and struggling to lift himself up with aching muscles.

He heard voices. Getting on his hands and knees, Tacris crawled closer to the back of the caravan, lurking and listening to the two men converse. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but was sure one if them was the piper. The other voice he didn’t recognize, but felt that for some reason he had heard it somewhere.

Just as Tacris was about to lunge for a hedge only four feet away, to get closer to the two men, a quiet voice beckoned him from atop the caravan.

“Tacris!” The old man whispered harshly, “Why are you down there?” He was expecting his friend to be held captive in the caravan.

“Aaydan?” Tacris’ face was stricken with panic, “You scared the living hell out of me!”

Aaydan smiled, “Well, I thought you were captured. What are you doing there?”

The panic left Tacris’ face, “I’m not sure this is the place we want to be caught talking. I will tell you later.” He smiled back.

The old man winked at Tacris, “Alright, I’ll come down there in a second. You go to the east end of that factory. I will meet you there.”

“Alright”, Tacris saluted him, and then went diving into the hedge, crawling on his hands knees to the old abandoned building.

Aaydan held his hand to his mouth, chuckling to himself and thinking what a comical attitude Tacris had. The old man quickly turned his attention to the two mysterious men walking closer to the caravan. The piper, being one of them, turned his attention to Aaydan. The old man ducked quickly, trying to avoid the piper’s vision. Surely thinking he had been caught, his heart was racing and he began to felt dizzy.

Minutes went by, and still no guards seizing the caravan, or men firing arrows through Aaydan’s frail body. The old man looked up, and watched the two men mischievously run into the dark abandoned factory with the young boy behind them. Aaydan breathed easier.

Jumping down from the caravan, Aaydan speedily ran to the west end of the factory, hoping Tacris’ hadn’t been spotted, and he would be there soon to meet up with his friend.

Tacris was running from tree to tree, darting from bush to bush, and dodging red robed cult members who were coming in and out of the building. Tacris’ heart was pounding, and found it hard to breathe. It was even more difficult to breathe than it had been in the storage compartment.

Ducking behind a large redwood, Tacris took in a few calming breaths. He had to rest before he met up with Aaydan. He knew that they would be entering a very dangerous place, and Tacris needed strength. “Only for a moment will I rest”, he whispered in between heavy gasps for air, “then I will be ready.”

As he sat there resting, he inspected his surroundings. Trees were sparse, providing little hiding space. Their leaves were a dark blood red, much darker than the robes that cult members wore, and the grass had burnt dry from the heat of the sun during the day. No green grew here; it felt dead. Tacris felt hollow in this dismal environment.

A chill crept up his spine, and he shook it off. “Alright”, he said, “time to go.” He did not want to stay here. He wanted to see Aaydan.

Voices in the dark, I can’t see who is speaking to who. I can’t tell if I am speaking. I’m very hungry, and I am very lonely. I want to be back in that ebony cell. I want to die in its dreary confinements. This dark is aggravating me. Go away! Let me see, damn it all!

Aaydan did not dodge enemies, nor did he try to hide in shadows. He freely strolled around the abandoned factory, whistling loudly. The men who heard his whistling, but did not see the whistler, collapsed to the ground. The men would later wake up, unaware and forgetful of any recent occurrences.

The men who did see Aaydan would run up to him with arms raised and spells ready on their lips, anxious to be cast. The old man would shake his head, “pathetic”, and raise one finger. This gesture did not frighten the men, nor did it give them a chance to be alarmed. In seconds, these men would look at the world through the eyes of a hen with the brain of a pea. The spell would not last long, just enough to allow Aaydan a safe escape at a quickened pace.

Appearing calm, rested, and still whistling, Aaydan was not what he seemed. Inside, he was a tired, old man. The magic left him exhausted, and what petty spells he cast! He did not feel ashamed. He was growing older, and grew proud with age.

There ahead in the darkness, his wrinkled lids peered wide open, allowing his eyes to look deeper into the folds of the night and see his friend hiding behind a large tree. Aaydan stopped, watching Tacris, curious as to see how the young man handled himself in such a dire situation for such an inexperienced individual. The old man stood there, surprised, even taken aback at such skill as the young man swiftly and quite gracefully ducked, weaved and maneuvered himself in between every tree, hedge and obstacle in sight.

Tacris came closer, till he was only four feet away from the old man, but did not realize it.

“Ah, here you are!” Aaydan exclaimed, laughing aloud.

Tacris, startled, nearly jumped and made a run for it, but the old man seized him by the neck of the robes.

“Foolish man, turn around it is I!” Aaydan reassured.

Tacris stopped struggling and turned to face him, “Aaydan?” He belted out with laughter.

“I was so impressed with your briskly refined skills that I thought it be funny to catch you off-guard.”

Tacris calmed down, now smiling, “Thanks, and I assure you, that you scared the living hell out of me.”

“Wonderful”, Aaydan bowed graciously.

“Who is that?” A guard’s voice boomed out.

Tacris looked at Aaydan in shock his eyes wide open with fear.

The old man beckoned he pull up the hood of his cloak.

Tacris did so, his red eyes were all that shown in the darkness. His pure black skin blended with the night.

“Who are you?” The guard came closer, followed by two other men adorned in red robes, familiar of those of the cult members’.

“I am Aordan Fellminder”, Aaydan spoke for himself, “and this is my traveling companion, Midstrumel Kysot”, he then motioned his hand to Tacris, “we are on strict orders with the king of—“

“Shut your mouth, wizard”, the guard silenced Aaydan who glared at him with an irritable eye, “what are you doing here with this filthy Anyr?” The guard licked his lips, keeping his hand on his swords hilt, ready for any surprise attacks. The two robed men behind him snickered, holding staves that flickered light. The glow from the staves revealed Aaydan’s face, but shadowed Tacris’ even more.

Aaydan shot a baleful glance at Tacris, “You are Anyrian?” he whispered harshly.

Tacris took a step back, nodding hesitantly.

Aaydan turned back to the guard with a timid look on his face, “Alright, the truth is—“ with a wave of his right arm, Aaydan hurled a bolt of magic at the guard, who had drawn his sword in defense, only to have pierced one of the robed men at his guard through the chest.

The other red robed man spoke a deadly word that would instantaneously strike Aaydan through the brain, rendering him dazed and paralyzed, but Tacris hurled a throwing knife at the man’s throat. He dropped to the ground on his knees, choking up blood and wrenching the knife from his neck. He collapsed on all fours, dead.

In a second, the guard was back on his legs, ready to fight and unaware he had just lost his only remaining man. He traced the air in front of him, below his waist in a spiral with his sword. “Stay there mage”, the guard smiled deviously, “and when we’re done with you, we’ll finish off this meager Anyr.”

Aaydan did not ready himself. The old man stood there open to any blow, sure to be finished in a single quick thrust of the guard’s weapon in hand.

The guard did not attack though. He paced from side to side, taunting the old man. “Why are you just standing there? Come on, finish me, I dare you”, the guard smirked, “I’ll take you both on!” his voice grew fierce fast.

Tacris took a step forward.

Aaydan motioned Tacris to stay away.

The Anyr took a step back.

“What’s wrong mage?” the guard still taunted, yet curious as to why they would not make a move. “Scared?”

Aaydan looked through eyes of sympathy and spoke from a pacifistic mind, “You are all alone. You have no men left. Why do you not run?”

The guard looked around, nervously, trying to not keep his eyes off the two enemies he faced. He saw his man who had been killed by Tacris’ knife, then counted in his head, “One, ah hmm, two . . .” he thought a bit more, “damn it.”

Tacris watched the guard through blood red eyes full of hatred.

The guard now took a few steps back, “I see you are right”, he seemed terrified, “my men are dead”, he took a large, uncomfortable gulp, “I do not see how I could possibly win”, the lump in his throat grew larger, till he felt he could hardly breath, “I, uh . . .”

Aaydan wanted to calm the man down and let him go on his way, unharmed, for he knew it be un-honorable to kill a man when he is clearly out numbered and sure to die if challenged, but Tacris made the first move that would assure the guard’s last.

Tacris lunged at the guard, who, in his terror, drove his own sword right through his own belly. The guard’s scream deafened them both as they watched him fall and wallow in his own pool of blood. The scream seemed to last forever, never resting.

Aaydan shielded his eyes from the horror with his hands, trying to look away from the guard who was lost in the sightless land of the dead.

Tacris had stopped in shock and revulsion, not able to take his eyes away from the man who had self penetrated his abdomen in cowardice.

With all his screaming, the guard would not die. He lay there with his eyes rolled up into his head and scrambling to see. All he saw were the souls of the dead, clambering for him.

The screaming died down, and all that was left was the guard’s body, still twitching as the life was drained from his helpless mortal shell.

Aaydan uncovered his eyes, looking at the dead guard and then at Tacris. In disbelief he shouted, “What the hell were you thinking? You stupid fool!”

Tacris did not look at him. He was transfixed by the lifeless body of the guard. In his mind, he knew he did not want to see this. His heart, in a fleeting moment of passion had desired him dead, but did not imagine it so in such a gruesome display of hopelessness.

Aaydan was hot with anger, and tried to calm himself, in best intentions to not make any rash actions. Closing his eyes he entered a state of relaxation, “Just listen to yourself Aaydan”, he whispered, “this was a heated confrontation”, he reasoned, “the boy is young”, he realized, “out of control”, he decided, “and I am not. I am in control and can handle this.” The old man opened his eyes, and a small tear ran down his aged, wrinkled face. Wiping it away with his hand, he walked slowly over to Tacris.

The Anyr was huddled over on the dried grass, sobbing.

“It will be alright Tacris.” Aaydan spoke words of compassion.

The Anyr did not speak at all.

Sighing deeply, Aaydan knelt down beside him, “You are young Tacris. It is not your fault.” He rested his hand on Tacris’ shoulder, “In battle, time moves very fast, and many of us do not think clearly. I was going to let him leave us.” He chuckled, “that may not have been the best choice. He most surely would have brought his other friends along and we would have been the ones outnumbered.”

A small gust of wind brought down the Anyr’s hood, cooling his head.

Aaydan took his hand off Tacris’ shoulder and stood up, breathing in deeply, and exhaling.

Tacris stood up, looking Aaydan in the eyes.

Red met blue, compassion met fire.

“Thank you”, Tacris embraced Aaydan.

“Master Vlanquiah, two of our men have gone missing along with Officer Moorswithe. You say they are disposable, Master? But Master, if I may please suggest—no I understand, please Master, forgive me. Master, yes I understand, I will not address you in vain. Yes. I understand. Look for them myself, Master? I have word there is a wizard, Master, and with him is an Anyr. I wish to not go alone. Yes, Master. I understand. No, the others are in the chamber. They are beginning the preparations. Yes, Master, tonight we start the ritual summoning.”

“Tacris, climb! It’s safe, I promise! Just be careful, and keep watch the branches I use. Follow me.” Aaydan called down to Tacris, slowly climbing a large tree.

“May I ask why we are doing this?” Tacris called out after him.

Aaydan sounded impatient, “Just climb! We must get to the top of the building! I believe there is an opening in the roof where we can sneak inside!” Aaydan was trying real hard not to yell, but found it more difficult for his voice to reach Tacris as he climbed higher.

To Tacris, anything said to him was a whisper from Aaydan. “Alright”, Tacris sighed apathetically, pulling himself up onto the strong sturdy redwood branches. Tacris climbed much faster than Aaydan, and more carefully.

“Show-off”, the old man muttered, keeping his steady climb.

Soon, Aaydan reached the apex of the tree, and Tacris had caught up to him. From there, they could see the top of the roof and jump to it with ease.

Aaydan went first, balancing on a branch and moving closer to the building till it was safe to drop below.

Then Tacris followed behind, jumping onto the roof of the factory.

“Phew”, Aaydan wiped his sweaty forehead, “what an adventure this has become.”

Tacris nodded, regaining his breath.

“My arms and legs are aching”, Aaydan stretched.

“Yes, I feel very soar”, agreed Tacris.

After a few moments of rest, Aaydan walked over to a large gaping hole in the roof. “You suppose this’ll take us inside?” He smiled.

Tacris shrugged, “I guess so.” The Anyr walked over to the hole, bending over it to see below.

Far, far down was a small gathering of red robed cult members. Tall men adorned in velvet robes were lined up against a wall, with arms raised, and chanting words of hymn. In the center of the red robed men was the small boy who rode in the caravan with the piper. The boy was tied up, and lying down in the center of a large symbol glowing a bright green. The demonic rune was shaped like a crescent moon with a jagged S horizontally striking through it. Then small ancient lettering was written in a perfect circle, completing the crescent shape as that of a full moon.

“What do you think they’re doing with that boy?” Tacris wondered.

Aaydan looked intently at the scene, “I’m not sure, but this doesn’t look like much fun for that child.”

Tacris nodded; “Well what you suppose we do?” he was now standing straight up, looking at the old man.

Aaydan stood up, now staring back at the Anyr, “I say we jump down there and rescue that boy.” He said smiling, with excitement and anticipation in his voice.

Tacris thought it over. What am I thinking? Why don’t I just leave? It’s because I came here in search for some truth. I need to find Marrow, and why not save the young boy? Who knows what they might do with him?

“Well?” asked the adventurous old man.

“Sure. Why the hell not?” Tacris grinned.

“Great, now we have to—“

“Stop right there men!” A red robed man stood there alone, with staff in-hand and ready to fight the both of them.

“Damn it, another one!” Tacris yelled in frustration.

Aaydan, on the other hand was amused, “We sure do attract these vermin everywhere we go.”

“You two are impossible not to hear.” the foe mockingly accused them, “Now either come with me quietly, or suffer the consequences by meeting me in combat.”

“This one seems sure of himself”, Tacris warned.

“Don’t worry”, Aaydan reassured, “I’ll be fine.”

The red robe smirked, raising his staff with words of magic on the tip of his tongue. The blood red gem on the head of the staff glowed fiercely bright. “I’m going to enjoy killing you both.” He smirked, firmly taking his ground.

Aaydan took a step back, holding his right arm out in front of Tacris in protection. “Be careful”, he whispered, “this mage uses dark magic.”

Tacris hesitated at this, now feeling very vulnerable, “What do you mean by dark magic?”

Aaydan looked every which way for an escape, “Damn, it looks like there’s no way out of this.”

“What do you mean get out of this? As in we can’t possibly survive?”

“I don’t think we can. Damn it I’m hungry.” He cursed, licking his lips.

Tacris was in a panic. Here he was, unprepared for never facing a mage handling dark magic, whatever that meant; accompanied by an old man worried about food in a dire situation that could possibly mean death. “Look Aaydan”, he took hold of the situation, “I think we can fight him, but it’ll be risky.”

Aaydan smiled, “Tell me your plan.”

“Hey!” the red robe shouted impatiently, “Are you going to fight, or am I going to have to kill you both right now?”

Tacris stammered, “I, uh I mean, we are I think, well just please wait a second, I have yeah hold on a moment, just wait, we will fight.”

The red robe stood there, still holding his staff at ready, muttering to him self, “I don’t have time for this . . .”

“Okay”, Tacris whispered, “I can take care of him, I’m pretty sure, I have a dagger, but you will have to explain to me this dark magic—

Aaydan shook his head, “It’ll take too long. I’ll take care of the bastard.”

Smiling, Tacris continued, “Alright, then while you are doing whatever you plan to do, I can sneak up behind him and use my dagger. If you tire him out enough, then he might not be able to fend us both off. From my little experience against mages, I’ve noticed magic takes a lot of work out of them.”

“Unless we’re up against an experienced magic user”, Aaydan added.

“Thanks for your optimism”, Tacris chuckled, “Now once we take care of him, we can repel down into this building using that rope over there”, he nudged Aaydan, motioning over to a long coil of rope on the side of the building, “and we can save the boy.”

The mage took a step closer; the staff glowing stronger, emanating more magic from the dazzling gem.

“Then lets do it”, Aaydan ran forward, ahead of Tacris, who was trying to hold him back.

“But wait—

Aaydan pulled out a small, round, metallic object that, when was hit by the glowing gem atop the mage’s staff, was transformed into a long black rod. The gem shattered instantly, and the mage was left standing there in shock, unarmed and struck with fear. Aaydan smiled, wielding his rod expertly, and tucking it under his robes. “Come here, and let us engage in hand-to-hand combat.”

The mage took a step back. Unfortunately there was no stable ground to step back on to. So there the mage plummeted off the edge of the building, falling to the ground far below, and meeting death in the most excruciating form imaginable.

Tacris was lost for words.

Turning to face him, Aaydan folded his arms in his sleeves with a grave look on his face.

A moment of silence was paid to respect the mage’s most unfortunate death, until Tacris spoke, “Wow.”

Outside of the abandoned factory, cult members gathered to come see what had made the ground shake. Circling around the dead crumpled mess of bones and internal organs, the robed conspirators shouted in accusation. No one could make sense of what had happened, until one pointed up at the roof of the building. They spotted an old man disappear from their sight with a large coil of rope. Almost instinctively, they lit their torches, and began to ascend the walls of the factory. Some rose by their magic alone, while the remaining few climbed the massive redwood trees surrounding the building.

“Do you hear that?” Tacris stood there with eyes opened wide in fear.

Aaydan must have obviously heard the same commotion below, for he too, was frozen in his tracks.

It only took them a moment to realize the cult members had discovered their presence.

Aaydan was tying the rope to a large branch in a rush. Running to the large opening in the roof of the factory, Tacris shrieked, “Look! They’re all gone!”

Aaydan laughed, “This will be so much fun!” As he grabbed hold of Tacris by the arm and jumped down the hole. The two were hurtling down faster than they could have imagined. Any screams were lost in the fall, sucking all sound out of the void of shapes and blurs.

Tacris looked over at Aaydan, who seemed to be yelling something, but he couldn’t hear. Looking down, he saw the ground coming closer, and looking up he saw no rope.

As soon as he realized this, they hit the ground, falling through the wooden floor boards and landing in a vast pool of water.

The crash had rendered Aaydan unconscious, as Tacris found him sinking deeper into the murky depths. Diving down, he caught hold of the old man’s robes and dragged him up to the surface. Tacris hauled himself and Aaydan up onto a long piece of wood. Breathing heavily, he laid there with his unconscious friend next to him. “Aaydan, Aaydan wake up.” He said in between each painful breath.

Aaydan began choking up water, coughing loudly.

Tacris held on to him to keep him from falling over the edge.

Finally after a fit of coughing and gaining breath, the two lay there, trying to rest.

“Hey Tacris?”

“Yeah Aaydan?”

“Thank you”, he coughed, “for saving my life.”

Tacris just shook his head, “I couldn’t have gone on without you. No problem.”

The old man started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Aaydan had a big grin on his face, “You should have seen the look on your face when you saw I lost the rope.”

Tacris joined in on the laughter.

“I was panicking and I tied the rope to my staff”, Aaydan laughed harder, “but then I realized, oh damn it, where the hell did my staff go?”

The two laughed till their stomachs hurt, then lied there, looking around.

“Aaydan.” Tacris whispered.

“Yeah?” He lowered his voice to match his friends’.

“I don’t hear any sound above us.”

They waited in silence.

“I don’t either.” Aaydan gulped.

Tacris looked around, seeing they were trapped in this dark pit of water. It almost seemed like there was no end to the chamber’s depths. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a casket floating in the water.

“Tacris.” Aaydan whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I think we’re on a coffin.”

Examining the piece of wood they were floating on, he saw it looked exactly like the casket he saw no more than several feet ahead of them. “You know . . .” Tacris thought out loud, “I think we’re in a crypt.”

Suddenly noticing the foul stench from the floating dead, Aaydan almost threw up, but held it in. “I can’t believe I was choking on rotting dead people.”

Tacris had to keep himself from laughing.

“So how do we get out of here?” Aaydan saw the hole they had fallen through and realized how far away it was.

“I’m not sure.” Tacris examined his surroundings, to no avail, “I think we might have to find a way out, under the water.”

Aaydan looked at him, appalled, “You mean swim deeper in this filth?”

Tacris almost threw up at the thought of it, “Yeah I think so.”

The two were disgusted, and looked deathly pale. Their clothes were soaked and they were obviously trapped in this hell hole, from the looks of it.

“Well then”, Aaydan tried to get his hopes up, “what are we waiting for?”

Just as he was about to jump off the edge and go diving into the mysterious abyss of the floating crypt, a voice from above shouted at the both of them, “Hey, I wouldn’t go down deeper if I were you!”

Looking up, they saw it was another cult member.

“There are things down there I don’t think you would be happy to see.”

Aaydan shouted back, “I think I’d be happier seeing a dead body than yourself or any of your kind!”

“Suit yourselves!” The red robe yelled apathetically, as began to leave.

“Shush!” Tacris nudged Aaydan, “No, wait!”

The red robe halted, waiting for an answer.

“Get us out of here, and we will do anything!” Tacris yelled.

Aaydan grabbed him by the shoulders, “What are you thinking? He’s just bluffing! There isn’t anything in this water to be afraid of except a few dead bodies!”

“You should listen to your friend there boy!” the red robe called out, “He’s very wise! It comes with age, you know!”

Tacris ignored them both, “Let us out of here, and we will do anything! You have my word!” Out of the corner of his eye he saw the old man in defiance. He turned to face him and winked secretively.

Aaydan saw this, and decided to play along, “Fine, then let us out!”

The red robe laughed, “Okay, I’ll lower a rope for you both to grab on to, but if either of you miss it or fall, it’ll be your fate to die with the dead!”

A rope was hurled below, and Aaydan grabbed hold of it.

Tacris whispered to him, “I won’t be coming with you. Don’t try and stop me, I saw a small tunnel that I can fit through, and I’m almost sure of where it leads. I promise I will meet you up at the top, but you’ll have to stall them.”

Aaydan thought this over and nodded. Giving a small tug on the rope, he was lifted higher.

Tacris waited until Aaydan looked back and gave a signal. Jumping into the water, he made a loud splash, and swam to the small hole in the wall. It was just the right size for him to squeeze through, and would be a tight fit. Grabbing the ledge, and hoisting himself up out of the water, Tacris crawled through the sewage tunnel.

The long dark journey through the sewage tunnels was a steep climb. Keeping a firm hold on all sides, Tacris pushed himself higher and higher with all the strength he had in his arms and legs. He couldn’t rest, for if he did so, he would slide back down to the watery crypt, and for fear he might not get out of here soon enough, arriving just in time to see Aaydan lose his head. The putrid stench was horrible, and Tacris almost gagged on the dead smell of rotting corpses and bodily wastes.

The climb luckily evened out to a horizontal level, allowing him to efficiently crawl and move faster through the winding path of the tunnel. Knocks and screeches echoed far, south from the crypt. Torturous screams would howl in agony, sometimes long, painful, drawn-out, arduous pleas for mercy. Tacris could not shake off the eerie emotion that dwelled in the walls of this underground, paranormal sewage netherworld.

Stopping, Tacris thought he heard voices.

All sounds in the distance were abruptly silenced.

Shrugging, he continued to crawl forward, trying to make as little noise as possible, and paying close attention to any odd noises. But it seemed after that strange moment of silence there were no more sounds to be heard. The tunnel had suddenly transformed into this gray, soundless tunnel. Down here, Tacris was blind and deaf to all reality. It was like a dream, only dim enough to keep moving, too dark to see where he was going.

Voices spoke again. They were louder this time; an intense conversation. Could it be Aaydan? I sure hope he’s alright, thought Tacris.

No, there was only one person. Talking to him self? Whoever it is, they’re raving mad, and they sound upset with something. Strange muttering between shouts and outrage, now they are praying.

Who is this person praying to?

Tacris came closer to the voice, till it seemed so close he felt the anger pulsing from the enraged stranger. Tacris’ own heartbeat was racing; pounding so loud it was all he felt. His eyes were watering and he lost himself in his own mind. Throbbing concentration and I’m losing control. Am I falling back down the tunnel? Sliding all the way to the watery grave, I will not make it in time to help Aaydan. He might be dead already. I might be dying now. Am I losing control?

“No”, Tacris whispered feverishly. He was shaking, and broke into a cold sweat. He was still there, still where he was before. He hadn’t moved, he felt nauseous and had to rest.

No rest, I can’t stop. I stop, and all else fails. Stop resting, stop thinking. Just do.

No, think before you do; think before I do. Okay, breathe, concentrate, voices.

“No, this isn’t right!” A voice screamed in what sounded to be defiance.

Tacris was jolted immediately, thrown back out of his mind. His heart stopped beating.

“There can’t be this many!”

“Damn it, calm down.” The same voice calmly spoke with patience.

Tacris edged forward, moving closer to see if he could possibly catch a glimpse of the man. Were there in fact, two of them? It sounded like one talking to himself, bickering back and forth.

“We took a risk.”

“We have a lot at stake here!”

“Yes, and we can handle it.”

“You mean I can! A gnome, a bandit, and a praliv! Absurd from the start! I don’t know why I even listened!”

“Yes, why did he listen? Gods forbid . . .”

“Quiet.”

Tacris held his breath, afraid they might have heard him.

“I’m trying to make sense of this.”

“Well then don’t.”

The voice sighed.

“Look, let’s just go with what we have, and I’m sure things will work themselves out.”

“Great, luck is the fate of our plans again?”

“Luck was always a factor.”

“But we are in control!”

“We are not in control!”

“You said we could change the stars!”

“And we did! We changed time! We stitched lives together, and made—

“A mess! We didn’t know what we were doing then, and we are desperately trying—

“To put all the pieces back together.”

“We are hopeless.”

The moment grew bitter, and Tacris lay there with mouth agape. What the hell was this person ranting about? I don’t have time for this, Tacris was impatient.

“Hopelessness still has a chance, whether it is less than one star facing a whole world of them, or no stars facing death.”

“We put our plans into these three, and we got six.”

“Alright, let’s keep moving.”

With that, the conversation ended, nothing more. He could have sat there for ages, Tacris wasn’t sure at that point what happened. He was stuck in this blasted tunnel, and he might be hallucinating for all he knew. Were they gone? I’m guessing they left. Oh well, he shrugged. I have to press on.

Ascending the dreary stone tunnel, he came to face the exit, or what could be the entrance, which ever way one looked at it. He now faced a large room with walls adorned of ivy and shields. A large rectangular mantelpiece hung above a fire place directly ahead of Tacris. It was a portrait of a valley overlooked by an ominous tower. A bright red sun was painted over a sunny sky, setting ablaze the clouds, and a small village in the distance. To his right, Tacris saw a long mahogany carved table with maps and small wooden figurines plotted everywhere in specific locations. Chairs were planted everywhere in the room, some in odd places, like in a dark corner, or hanging from a book shelf. On Tacris’ left he saw two large doors. Tall as a giant, they bore aged, brass handles and a golden woven pattern was worn into the thick faded red wood.

Climbing down from the tunnels hole in the wall, Tacris stepped on the cold stone floor, shivering, for the chill froze his bare feet. Damn it, I lost my boots in that dreaded tomb. Oh well, I’m not going back, Tacris thought stubbornly. I have sense enough to know I’m already too late. Well now is as good as a time as any.

Tacris rushed to the double doors, then softly pushed them open, and peeked in, to see what was hidden on the other side.