The war began and the delicate peace of two worlds was abruptly and brutally shattered…

Jeshux had traveled far throughout AnEerth before he sent Farewethor back to the Midnight Monastery and returned through the Harashna, farther and for longer than he had intended. The scene that greeted him back on Earth was one of chaos and devastation. As he stepped from the swirling mess of color that was the earthen wormhole Jeshux found himself automatically steeling his body as the horror around him almost brought him to his knees.
The main building was hardly a ruin but all the same was pocked and scarred from enduring the destructive forces generated by battle. Some portions were destroyed while others had received minor damage. Bullets had riddled most of the buildings outer façade along with a few splashes of char here and there from laser fire. Some sections had resisted the heat but others had caught and burned righteously, completely gutting them of anything they may have contained. Jeshux wandered forward and gazed about at the madness. His personnel ran around in an attempt to restore some semblance of order, some of them gave orders while others obeyed them.
Jeshux reached out and snatched a young corporal as he rushed by. “What happened here?” He barked at the man and regained some of his grasp on the situation.
Recognition dawned almost instantly in the soldier’s eyes and he snapped to attention at once. “Oh thank the heavens you’re here, sir,” the corporal gasped. “We’ve been terribly overwrought.”
Apparently. “What happened?” Jeshux barked again.
The corporal visibly gathered himself and began calmly, “It was Harmony, sir. The bastard has gathered one hell of an army and he’s trying to take control of the Harashna. His foul creatures are accompanied by legions of men and they’ve attacked four times in the last thirty-seven hours. Mr. McAriicoys expects another barrage within the hour.”
Jeshux sighed inwardly at the corporal’s account. So it’s started, he thought. A little sooner than I’d expected but at least McAriicoys has survived and from what I can tell is holding things together.
“And where’s McAriicoys?” He quizzed the soldier.
“He’s in the main building, sir, in the central observation room.”
“Thank you,” Jeshux saluted the man. “Be about your business.”
The corporal returned his commander’s salute and hurried off so Jeshux made his way to the front entrance of the main building. The building was on the opposite side of the Complex from the wormhole and the further he got from the trans-dimensional gateway the worse the scene around him became.
Soldiers were busy dragging the mutilated corpses of friend and foe alike into piles around the outer perimeter of the Complex. If the enemy was successfully driven off, graves would have to be dug for the fallen; individual ones for the brave souls of Jeshux forces while mass graves would suffice for the slaves of the dark sorcerer. More likely than not fire would be the ultimate end for the werewolves and goblins. They were piled the furthest away from the Complex in preparation to be set ablaze.
Reaching the front of the main building Jeshux noted the excessive damage to that side of it. He pushed his way through the double swinging doors and into the near solitude of the Complex interior. Harmony had obviously concentrated his attacks there, probably in an attempt to take possession of the observation room which he must know controlled the entire Complex, including the wormhole. He also noted that McAriicoys had not placed any guards in the building and wondered why.
Jeshux reached the control room just as the door blew open and McAriicoys stormed out.
“Jeshux!” McAriicoys exclaimed. “Am I glad to see you.”
Jeshux grabbed McAriicoys by the shoulder. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long my friend,” he apologized. “Business overran my estimates some.”
McAriicoys grinned and patted him on his back. “No need, sir. No need, though it would seem that you’ve arrived just in time to have some fun.”
“Oh,” Jeshux eyebrows rose. “I suppose that has something to do with where you were going.”
“As a matter of fact, you’re right,” McAriicoys answered. “You had better come with me.” And he started purposefully down the hall.
With Jeshux close behind him McAriicoys related the events that had transpired since his commanding officers departure through the wormhole. “As you ordered I sent six spies into Harmony’s demesne in New York, only one came back. You can read the full report later.” He smiled grimly, “If there’s time.”
As they turned down another corridor Jeshux pondered those words and McAriicoys continued. “He returned with reports of a massive army, uncountable hordes made up not only of werewolves and goblins but humans as well. It seems that Harmony has been able to enlist natives from all over Earth. It also appears he’s been able to develop some sort of brainwashing technique, a combination of hypnosis, torture, and sorcery that has perverted to his cause those that wouldn’t join willingly. We’ve since come up with some rough estimates that are putting their numbers over a couple million.”
“For Death’s sake,” Jeshux muttered.
McAriicoys grimaced. “Sir, I’m afraid that’s barely the worst of it. The spies that you ordered and the subsequent ones I’ve sent also reported Harmony to be in possession of new weaponry. Quite a few pieces of what they all agree to be strange hardware. Like nothing we’ve ever seen before, ranging from small handheld to destructive long-range canons. And there’s at least one new bomb. We were lucky enough to have been eavesdropping on the site of its test detonation. It’s no bigger than a large ball but its thermal generating capability is greater than any nuclear or atomic device yet invented.” With this he stopped and looked Jeshux straight in the eyes. “Sir, this thing is capable of taking out an area the size of a small country.”
Jeshux groaned. “McAriicoys, my old friend we have to send word to the King.”
“Aye sir, that’s what I intended to do when I ran into you. I’m afraid we’re not going to be able to hold the Complex through another assault.”
“I believe you’re right,” Jeshux agreed. “It’s a miracle you’ve held out as long as you have.”
“No, sir,” McAriicoys contradicted. “Not a miracle at all. Harmony could have overrun us at the first attack. The devil's been toying with us from the start. He wants us to understand what we’re up against and he wants us to suffer.”
“I’m ordering a retreat,” Jeshux announced. “We’ll have a better chance of defending the wormhole from atop the Dark Tower. Harmony can only send so many troops through at a time and any who do slip past will be filtered down the stairs.”
“And the king sir?”
“Yes McAriicoys and the king.”
“I’ll sound a retreat then?” McAriicoys asked. “And send a messenger to the king.”
“Yes,” Jeshux confirmed. “The sooner the better.”
“Aye sir!” McAriicoys saluted and turned to carry out Jeshux command.
“One more thing,” Jeshux words stopped McAriicoys in his tracks. “I want explosives rigged in the wormholes control room. At this point it might be futile but if we blow up the controls than maybe the whole thing will shut down.”
“Aye sir, it will be done.” And then McAriicoys was gone.


The forest calm was shattered by the sound of steel on steel. The air was muggy and humid and inspired sweat to spring forth from the brows of the combatants. Their booted feet tore up the turf as their struggles carried them across the sunlit glade. Neither man spoke as they breathed too hard. In a desperate attempt one of them parried the others sword stroke and pressing an attack managed to drive the other fellow backwards. The retreating man concentrated on defending himself from the others blows, snagged his heel on a protruding root and stumbled. The attacker took advantage of his opponent’s misfortune and redoubled his efforts. Caught off guard the stumbling man was disarmed and fell flat on his back with a sword point to his neck.
The victor laughed and withdrew his blade. He clasped arms with the fallen man and drew him to his feet. “Well fought Candlelite,” he told the younger man. “But do you know where you went awry?”
“Yeah Vohrmint,” Candlelite grimaced and brushed himself off. “I shouldn’t have agreed to duel with you in the first place.”
Vohrmint Raspenmort, High Lieutenant and presently in command of the squad of mercenaries left by Commander General Jeshux to guard over the Chosen Ones during their stay at the Midnight Monastery, laughed uproariously at Candlelite’s sarcasm.
“Right you may be my young friend,” the mercenary conceded. “But that’s not why you lost. You could have had me.”
“But I didn’t,” Candlelite sheathed his sword in the scabbard at his left hip.
“Not for lack of trying,” Vohrmint reminded him. “Your fault lies not in a lack of skill with a blade. As a matter of fact I’ve not seen the like of which you’ve mastered the blade exhibited by anyone. No, your fault doesn’t lie there but where it does lie is in a lack of awareness.”
“Awareness?” Candlelite queried as he helped himself to some water. “And what’s that suppose to mean?”
Vohrmint guffawed. “Awareness son, awareness of your surroundings, I suppose the beast within supplies you with instinct aplenty but instinct can only take you so far. What you need is awareness, awareness of yourself, awareness of your opponent, and- as in this case- awareness of your surroundings.”
“My surroundings,” Candlelite mused.
“Aye lad, take that root you tripped on for instance. I had it spotted out from almost the first step I took in this clearing, along with that hole over there.” Vohrmint pointed. “And that rock over there.” He pointed again.
“What hole?” Candlelite asked after easily spotting the rock.
“Over there,” Vohrmint gestured vaguely.
Candlelite wandered over in the direction indicated and let out a startled cry as he almost stepped into a hole that was hidden by grass and brush.
“Oh,” Candlelite mumbled. “That hole.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” Vohrmint laughed brusquely. “You see. It was no accident you stumbled over that root. I knew you were whooping on me so I had to take measures, hence forcing you towards that root. But if you had been aware of your surroundings and your opponent, you would have realized what I was doing and taken preventive action. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Candlelite nodded his head in assent. “Yeah, I think I’m getting you.”
Vohrmint shook his head violently. “No, no! Don’t think, know.”
Smiling Candlelite said, “Alright, alright! I understand.”
Vohrmint appraised him carefully from under creased brows. “Good,” he said and clapped his young ward on the back. “Ha, well let’s get you back to the monastery before your pretty lass gets worried over you.”

Absinthe was not worried about Candlelite, in fact she had almost forgotten about him, about the prophecy, and their seeming roles in the whole plot to save the worlds. She was sitting in a patch of sunlight, among some wildflowers, behind the monastery and beyond the garden. The Midnight Monastery had a beautiful garden filled with all kinds of good things to eat and a wonderful array of flowers, hedges, and sweet pools of clear spring water.
She sat cross legged among the flower’s assortment of brightly colored petals- pinks, blues, whites, and yellows- humming a tune she remembered from out of some long lost part of her childhood. Absinthe leaned back on her hands with her arms behind her, closed her eyes and enjoyed the soft caress of the sun as a light breeze blew across her skin with a touch as soft a silk. All of a sudden a shadow fell across her face and she smiled but did not open her eyes as familiar warmth of a different nature settled into the grass beside her.
“I smelled you coming from a mile away,” she chuckled and opened her eyes slightly against the light of the sun.
“Really?” Candlelite murmured and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Do I smell that bad?”
“You could use a bath,” Absinthe said as she snuggled close to him. “How long has it been, four or five days?”
Candlelite hugged her tighter and laughed, “It’s only been three, smart ass.” He kissed the top of her head and inhaled deeply as he did so. “And how is it you still smell so sweet? It’s been at least that long for you.”
Absinthe looked at him and rolled her eyes, “Duh, sugar and spice and everything nice of course.”
“Well however you manage it,” Candlelite told her and took another whiff. “I suppose you’re right, I should get in a bath sometime this evening.”
Absinthe pushed Candlelite to his back and swung her legs over to straddle him. “Well, I suppose if you do that then you’ll need someone,” she leaned down to kiss him. “Willing to scrub those hard to reach areas.” And then an eyebrow arched over her sparkling green eyes.
Candlelite laced his fingers together behind her head and through her soft red hair before he replied, “You know and assistant may very well be just what I need to get extra clean.” Then he chucked as she giggled.
“A-hem!” Suddenly a gruff voice burst from behind them.
The two startled lovebirds sat up quickly, both blushing from being caught in such an intimate position. Vohrmint stood there with both hands on his hips and a grin threatened to split his head from ear to ear.
“You’ll have to beg my pardon at the intrusion,” the big warrior said although he sounded none too sorry. “I would have knocked but alas there was no door.” And then he let out a deep laugh.
“That’s okay Vohrmint,” Absinthe said good-naturedly and stood up. “We were just getting ready to come in.”
“We were?” Candlelite quipped and Absinthe kicked him playfully. “Oh yeah, right, we were.” And he stood up grinning.
“That’s good,” Vohrmint said and his smile faded. “I came to tell you that a messenger just arrived with news of Jeshux. He hasn’t said anything yet as he wants to disclose what he has to say to everyone at once. He’s having food and drink while I tracked the two of you down.”
“Well then,” Candlelite was equally serious now. “Let’s not keep him waiting.” He took Absinthe’s hand in his own and followed Vohrmint back towards the monastery all thoughts of a bath temporarily banished from his mind.

The messenger was grimy with dust and road filth. His name was Roland and he sat at a table in the monastery’s modest mess hall. He had finished his meal and was talking with Witch Farewethor as he waited for Vohrmint to arrive with Absinthe and Candlelite. By his own account he had rode hard for the better part of a week after having gone first to deliver his tale to the King before moving on towards the monastery. “Ah,” Roland exclaimed coming around the table to shake hands. “You must be the great saviors that everyone is hearkening to.”
“I guess we must be,” Candlelite said somewhat embarrassed.
“Well then, are we all here?” Roland asked.
“Not quite,” Vohrmint answered. “We’re still waiting on two more.”
“No need to wait further,” intoned a gentle voice from behind them.
“Ah, Jin,” Roland bowed gracefully. “And you, sir must be the scientist who opened the Harashna.” He shook hands with Max.
“One of them anyway,” the old man smiled thinly.
“Now we’re all here?” At a nod from Vohrmint Roland began his report.
The picture he painted was one of horror and madness. A little over a week ago in the dark and fearful part of the night Harmony’s horde had swept through the Complex’s perimeter security defenses without tripping a single one. In the brutal assault of the mercenary encampment the losses sustained by Jeshux soldiers was tragically high. Fortunately McAriicoys himself had personally been on watch that night and due in part to his strategic prowess the mercenaries were able to organize their forces and repel the invaders.
Sadly this was not the last attempt made by the soldiers of darkness to procure the Harashna and before three days time was up the demons of Harmony had attacked twice more. Each one of these attacks brought many deaths to the mercenary ranks and much destruction to the Complex but without the element of surprise neither accomplished as much devastation as the initial show of force.
Shortly after the third attack Jeshux returned from AnEerth, which coincided with Witch Farewethor’s return to the Midnight Monastery. After being briefed on the situation and the immensity of Harmony’s army by McAriicoys the Commander General agreed that the only thing to do was to abandon the Complex and cross through the Harashna back into AnEerth. Only then, by funneling the brunt of Harmony’s army through the Harashna, might they hope to stem the tide of invasion.
So the Commander General ordered the retreat of his mercenary compatriots and not a moment too soon. The last mercenary had just made it through the Harashna when Jeshux and McAriicoys both turned for one last, brief look at their temporary place of residence, and in swept the minions of the dark sorcerer like a black wave into the Complex.
“And that was it,” Roland finished. “Jeshux and McAriicoys crossed through also and Jeshux bade me to take my tale to the King and then here. He said that he would soon be on my heels. He wanted to be sure that we had the Harashna secure on this side before he set out. As of my departure none of the opposition had made an attempt to pass through.”
“If there aren’t any questions,” Roland inquired. “It has been a rather long journey and I’m a bit tired.”
“Of course,” Jin grabbed his arm apologetically. “You’ve given us a lot to digest. Please let me show you to a room so that you may rest.”
“That’d be appreciated,” Roland stated and let the monk lead him away.
After the messenger was gone Candlelite sat down heavily on a bench with one arm resting on the solid table. “Far out,” he said somewhat despondently.
Absinthe sat down next to him and put a reassuring arm around his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she said softly. “Jeshux knows what he’s doing. I’m sure he has things under control.”
Candlelite let out a sigh and smiled at his beautiful companion. “I’m sure you’re right,” he patted her hand. “I’m sure you’re right.”
Little did any of the five people who sat in silent contemplation of Roland’s depressing tale realize but their faith in Commander General Jeshux was momentarily misplaced. The mercenary leader had things about as in control as a parachute in a hurricane and was even then in a mad flight to the Midnight Monastery.


It took longer than Dan thought to make it back to the tower. He had followed what he and Dave had presumed to be the path to the Midnight Monastery for nearly half a day before he decided that he must have missed it somehow. Another half a day fruitless searching left him no closer to his quarries supposed refuge and with some deliberation he concluded that returning to Earth to report his findings, scant as they were, would be his best course of action. Not once did it occur to him to return to Dirsellia and seek out Dave.
So he began the long journey back to the Dark Tower and the waiting harashna. He attempted the trip via the path through the forest that Dave and he had traveled previously. This proved to be the most difficult part of the journey. He had not exactly paid attention to the route they had taken as he had been more concerned with following his prey discreetly, the same as Dave. Admittedly there had also been something a bit primal to the pursuit, the thrill of the hunt as it were. Dan cursed himself for this now though because it led him to become a bit lost. Not enough to hinder him much, no he had marked the general direction of their travels well but he did manage to become lost in a meandering sort of way that cost him in time.
When he finally left the confines of the forest he exited the tree line and entered a tilled field. He found himself quite a few miles south of where he had initially entered the forest. Across the field in the distance was a small cottage where a thin plume of smoke rose slowly from its chimney. Dan gazed at the structure uncertainly. Somewhere close by a cow lowed. He took a few nervous steps towards the cottage and stopped. Something did not jive here. It was well after dawn; late in the morning in fact, where was the farmer or his family? Someone should have been tending to the affairs of running this farm. At this point anybody would be a welcome sight.
In the end Dan’s stomach won out over his brain, hunger over common sense. He warily began to cross the field. He did not attempt to hide because, well, really there was nowhere to hide. He did loosen his pistol in its holster though and kept his hand close to it, ready to draw as he walked.
Reaching a small barn adjacent to the cottage Dan heard a cacophony of various animals from within, a cow, some pigs, and even the bleating of a goat, all sounding hungry. The barn being little more than a large shack Dan rounded it quickly and reached the front yard where he encountered the hungry clucking of chickens as they wandered around pecking for whatever they could scavenge.
Yes, something was definitely wrong here. No self respecting farmer would ever allow his livestock to go hungry. Dan knew this from experience gained during his childhood. Farm animals were too important to a farmer’s existence to allow them to suffer discomfort. A farmer would often rather go without in order to keep his animals healthy and happy, knowing that by being good to them they would in turn be good to him.
Dan stopped at the front door of the cottage and listened intently for any sounds that could be heard over the cries of the animals. If it weren’t for the animals, he thought, this place would be as silent as the grave.
The grave, yes, but who’s?
Determined that the grave not be his Dan drew his gun.
Only opening the door about two inches Dan paused to listen again and again he heard nothing. He pushed the door open all of the way but he did it slowly and he was completely on guard.
Nothing happened.
The inside of the cottage was dim but not in a dilapidated way just in an unlit way. Sunlight streamed into the single large room through its only two windows, which were set in separate walls perpendicular to each other. A single table was placed in the middle of the room. It had place settings for two. A small sink sat under one of the windows. Surrounding the sink were a set of small cupboards, which also doubled as counter space. Knives of various sizes were hung on the wall to one side of the sink. One of the knives was missing. Where it had hung was a knife shaped spot slightly lighter in color than the wall surrounding it. Apparently the stove that sat on the same side of the sink as the knives had discolored the wall over the course of its use.
The missing utensil caused Dan to feel a twinge of trepidation.
The cottage was empty though and Dan reassured himself with that fact before creeping across the threshold. This emptiness allowed Dan to recover some of his lost courage. Relaxing his gun arm but not his vigilance he proceeded across the cottage floor to the head of the table. Examination of the neatly laid crockery revealed nothing unusual and he was about to turn to the cupboards when he suddenly felt the coldness of sharpened steel press almost imperceptibly against his throat.
“Where are they?” asked a cold voice.
“Who?” Dan countered allowing none of the fear he felt into his speech.
The knife tightened and he felt a warm trickle run down his neck.
“Don’t mess with me,” the voice intoned sharply.
Knowing his life was forfeit if he failed to comply he never the less sought to stall in an attempt to further figure out the situation.
“What’s your interest in them?” Dan asked still managing to sound calm.
The answer was simple. “Money.”
“Ah,” Dan exhaled knowing exactly whom he dealt with. “In that case I’ve got no reason not to cooperate.”
When he did not continue the voice demanded, “Well!”
Dan smiled and said, “If you would kindly lower your weapon.”
“I could kill you,” she whispered directly into his ear. It was unmistakably female now.
This only confirmed what Dan already knew. “You could Sefu,” he said calling the assassin by name. “But then you won’t find out where they’re hiding.”
“Perhaps, but it would be fun to watch you bleed.” There was just a trace of humor in the assassin’s voice.
Then there was a moment of silence and Dan could almost hear the wheels turning behind him before Sefu said, “Drop your gun and kick it away from you.”
Doing as he was told Dan felt the blade leave his throat as his gun went skittering across the floor.
“There now,” he said as he turned around and daubed at the blood on his neck with a kerchief. “Isn’t this more pleasant.
Sefu’s lips did not even twitch in the face of Dan’s smile but her eyes sparkled with deadly intent, cold as ice.
“Anyway,” Dan turned back to the cupboards and opened one of them. “I was just about to see if there was something to eat.” He looked back towards Sefu. “Are you hungry?”
The assassin was one cool customer, emotions tightly in control at all times but even so Dan was trying her patients. Her lips curled in a humorless smile and then the knife flashed within a hair’s breadth of his head, almost too fast to see, and imbedded itself in the cupboard.
“I guess not,” Dan said and straitened with some fixings in his hands.
“Well,” he walked back to the table and sat down. “I don’t know much of this world beyond what I was told but,” he paused to take a bit of what he found in the cupboard. “They left the castle headed east of here. Apparently they were headed to some kind of a monastery but a witch intercepted them just before dawn with orders to escort them back to the city then that head merc did some fast talking before they teleported.” Dan took another bite of his food. “I don’t know where she took them. My partner returned to the city and I searched for the monastery but couldn’t find it.”
“I just came from the city,” the assassin informed him.
“Ah,” Dan chewed thoughtfully. He understood the implications of her revelation. The chosen ones were not at the city.
“The Midnight Monastery,” Sefu mused. It wasn’t a question.
Dan nodded indifferently and kept eating as the assassin favored him with one last look before she turned to leave.
“One more thing,” he said around a mouthful just before she crossed the threshold.
Sefu stopped and waited to hear what the spy had to divulge but did not turn around.
Smiling at her turned back Dan swallowed and said the only thing he had left to say. “Don’t fail this time.” And then he laughed as without a word she departed.
He smiled to himself as he finished satisfying his stomach. He felt immensely pleased with himself as he pushed away from the table and left the cottage.
Dan walked past the cramped barn- if it could be called such- and suddenly thought about the missing farmer. He knew the farmer’s fate as soon as he identified Sefu and after again hearing the hungry cries of the animals he decided to act upon a whim.
The scent of the beasts assailed him as he entered the cramped confines of the barn. He looked around and saw the same imploring look in the eyes of the cow as he did in eyes of the goat and pigs. An unexpected pang for his lost childhood suddenly hit him and almost without realizing it Dan went around and unlocked all of the latches, freeing the orphaned livestock. Then, as the animals milled past him and out the door, this spy for the forces of darkness remembered himself. His training flooded back and he pushed aside his nostalgia and followed them outside.
Once free of the farm’s strange aura Dan made it to a familiar road without incident. His mission now was to make it back to the Harashna, return to Earth, and deliver the location of these chosen one’s place of refuge to his lord and master, Harmony. It was even possible that he would run into Dave somewhere along the way.
As he mundanely made his way down the road, non-magical and without transportation, the spy thought about the task that lay before him. He knew that once he crossed through the Harashna back to Earth he would be in the midst of the enemy encampment. He had no means to conceal himself- the magic of his former deception had belonged to his companions- and trying to traverse openly through the Complex was not a prospect he relished, but after all he was a spy.
It took what seemed to Dan a long time to reach the tower and he had still not sorted out all of the details in his plan of infiltration. All he was certain of was he would have to cross under cover of darkness but he was still trying to think around the alarms such a crossing would trigger throughout the Complex. So he was pleasantly surprised when, after three stolen horses and many days of hard travelling later, he finally reached his destination and discovered that all of his problems had conveniently been worked out.
All around the tower mercenaries bustled about their business, moving to and fro within the new perimeter of their hastily erected defense camp.
Perfect, he thought as a solid plan of action formed in his mind. This was going to be a lot easier than he expected. With all of his worries gone Dan settled into a spot of concealment.
As he awaited the dark, which was fortunately not far off, he chuckled to himself. He had chosen a spot that afforded him a good view of his enemies’ activities so he could sit patiently and study the pattern of their routines. By the time dark fell he had memorized all of the mercenaries’ movements and was able to move out of hiding and into the fringes of their camp with a fair amount of confidence. It was pretty obvious that they had not been in AnEerth long- probably only that morning or late the previous night- and it was also obvious by the large number of guards on patrol that they did not have any serious defenses in place.
Dan had the guards’ rounds committed to memory so his plan was simple, he’d just wait in the dark for one with his build to come along, kill him, take his clothes, walk openly to the Harashna, and pass through, simple.
He did not have to wait long for his victim. Without hesitation he sank into his training and struck. The mercenary did not know what hit him, literally. Dan hit him as hard as he could behind the ear with his pistol and the guard silently crumpled to the ground, dead instantly.
The spy wasted no time as he changed into the mercenary’s uniform and concealed the body. It would not take long before the shift change discovered their murdered comrade and raised the alarm; even so Dan remained calm and made his way casually towards the tower. No one thought to question his presence in the encampment and he made it inside, up the stairs, and to the tower’s top unimpeded.
The Harashna floated in a swirling mess of color, a portal of fantastic light just beyond the parapets. An exact twin of its earthly counterpart it dangled out over that great expanse of nothing. Dan went to the edge and looked down, the height was immense and vertigo hit him like a hammer. He backed away.
Dan studied the psychedelic kaleidoscope and felt himself almost becoming hypnotized by the brilliant beauty of the unnatural portal, a gateway through the very fabric of reality. For just a moment he actually forgot why he was on top of the tower in the middle of his enemy’s camp and he never even heard the footsteps as they came up behind him.
“Freeze!” shouted an angry voice that snapped him out of his reverie. “Don’t move!”
Risking a slow glace over his shoulder Dan saw four mercenaries with rifles pointed at him. Shit! How long had he been enthralled by the damned Harashna?
“All right buddy, turn around. Slowly!” said the mercenary closest to him.
Dan did not move, his hands raised and his mind raced.
“I said, turn around!” the merc shouted again.
Instantly Dan reacted. Without even thinking about it he dropped his arms and raced towards the Harashna. Almost as quickly he heard the sound of hot ozone crackling and bright blasts of light began to explode around him.
He reached the tower’s edge and leapt out over oblivion.


The sorcerer Harmony felt pleased with the way events had transpired. He sat on a throne of bone and blood that was magically erected from the dead carcasses that had been left piled around the Complex by Jeshux mercenaries. It was a ghastly thing to behold and the fact that he could stand to sit upon it was proof positive of Harmony’s inhumanity.
Harmony smiled and waited for his two goblin henchmen, Neebling and Snoregg, to answer his summons. He had just received a report from one of the spies that he had sent to AnEerth and was ready to order his army through the wormhole. He was pleased and so was in no hurry.
Yes, things seemed to be going his way. His army had easily routed the mercenaries from the Complex. The devilish horde could have easily crushed his enemies but he wanted word of his might to go ahead of him. He was confident of his strength and he wanted his enemies to tremble in fear from the anticipation of facing his power. He wanted them to suffer greatly in all possible manners. Harmony wanted them to suffer greatly so that he could feed off of their suffering and relish it as only a creature of pure evil could.
He laughed at the thought of what would come. Although his adversaries were resourceful, Jeshux attempt to destroy the wormhole by blowing up the control center was an example of this quality; they could never be expected to compete effectively against his genius. None could compare to him in magical prowess either. Not even the combined talent of all of the magical orders of AnEerth could hope to be his match, maybe once but no more. He laughed again for his absorption of earthen lore guaranteed this.
These things, these arrogances, were what motivated him to leave his enemies alive, for now. The certainty of his unequaled abilities, his unconquerable army, and their inevitable conquest of any and all, who may oppose him, these were the reasons that drove him to indulge in his unreasonable desires. As far as the Dark Lord was concerned his fate was sealed, nothing could come between him and total domination of not only one world, but two and possibly more after that. He chuckled again. Yes, why not more.
His destiny was manifest by him and him alone and had been since his birth. Not even the so called chosen ones would be able to withstand the crushing force of his will. None could hope to challenge him, especially not the vague predictions of some madman who had died millennia ago.
Harmony was almost giddy with excitement, as giddy as a bloodthirsty, barely human, world domineering sorcerer of the dark arts could be anyway. All he had to do was give the order and his vast, unstoppable army would begin infiltrating AnEerth on its way to the inevitable conquest of that ripe for the taking world.
Yes, he was pleased!


The hoof beats of a score of horses resounded like thunder, echoing throughout the confines of the ravine as their riders pushed them on at ever greater paces.
Jeshux was at the head of the procession on a huge mare with only bridle, reins, and a saddle blanket. The other horses dashing madly down the ravine road were similarly harnessed to ensure maximum endurance from minimum load handling. Each rider led a spare mount on a tether and practiced changing from one mount to the other in mid gallop at regular intervals. Each rider had started the journey with three horses and all had let loose one of them along the road. Heaving flanks and frothy nostrils told Jeshux that it would not be long before they would be forced to abandon another of their rapidly tiring steeds.
Damn the overwhelming strength of Harmony’s army! Jeshux swore under his breath.
Jeshux was riding to the Midnight Monastery as fast as he dared to push the horses. He hoped against hope that he would make it there ahead of the enemy so that he would be able to extradite Candlelite and Absinth to a new and safer location.
It had only a few days past since he had been forced for the second time to lead his men in retreat from the fury of Harmony’s dark army. Looking back on the entire affair Jeshux thought that he must have been a fool to have ever believed, no matter the conditions, that the diminished ranks of his mercenary army would ever be enough to stave off the inevitable invasion.
As soon as his men had delivered the report of the stranger’s infiltration and subsequent departure through the Harashna Jeshux had his men dig in and ready themselves for combat. It did not matter that the spy had slipped undetected into their camp; it was also irrelevant that, for whatever reason, there had not been anyone on guard duty at the tower’s top, it only mattered that they hold off Harmony’s forces long enough for King Zakeriah’s reinforcements to come to their aid.
Jeshux scowled in his saddle as he remembered the futility of the entire scheme. Mistakes were being made in this war, mistakes they just could not afford to make. There had not been close to enough time for the troops of the imperial army to be organized let alone teleported from the palace to the tower. Harmony’s soldiers had stormed from the Harashna in numbers that just would not have been possible naturally. Magic had been used, it was the only explanation.
Jeshux gave a hand signal and switched himself and his saddle blanket over to his spare steed. After completing this daring maneuver he risked a quick glance over his shoulder to be sure the rest of his men had followed his lead and then cut his previous mount adrift to fend for itself.
Putting his heels to his horse’s flanks Jeshux flashed back to the uncanny vision of Harmony’s soldiers as they flowed out of the Harashna like water from a tap. Literally like water they had proceeded to wash across the top of the tower. They swirled and eddied around his men stationed there before flowing down the vast staircase to eventually solidify into their normal forms, whether they be of werewolf, vampire, goblin, or human in shape. Once they were among the battlements of the camp itself they began to attack with the savage fury of the beasts they were.
Jeshux shook the disturbing memory from his mind. He had known within five minutes of the invasion beginning that he would have to sound another retreat. So without wasting any time he had runners carrying the message while McAriicoys gathered together a small force of a dozen men to escort him to the Midnight Monastery. These were the very souls that now accompanied him on this hellish ride.
Wanting to leave as soon as possible Jeshux waited just long enough to ensure the safety of his men before he left them in the care of McAriicoys to make their way to the palace.
Jeshux had had a bad feeling from the beginning of his flight that urged him into pushing the horses as hard as they could stand and before the mercenaries had been forced to abandon their first mounts they had overtaken a group of the enemy riding in wanton disregard of their steeds health.
Urging his horse to even greater speeds Jeshux had drawn his sword and caught two of the trailing goblins within its deadly arc as machine gun fire burst from behind him. With nowhere to hide the mercenaries made short work of the goblin riders, erasing their presence from the open road.
And now he was down to his last horse with still a ways to go. Knowing that more of the enemy would be sure to follow Jeshux never paused for a moment but hurried all the more towards the Midnight Monastery.

Miraculously enough their horses held out on them until they had reached their destination. Jeshux stopped his horse and the beast almost collapsed from under him as he slid off the saddle to the ground in one fluid motion.
The front doors of the monastery came open at the same time and Candlelite rushed down the steps closely followed by Absinthe and Vohrmint.
“Jeshux!” Candlelite exclaimed as he grabbed Jeshux hand in his own and clapped him on the back with the other. “It’s good to see you again!”
Jeshux shook the young man’s hand but his features remained tightly drawn and grim as he said, “It’s good to see you also. And you Absinthe, Vohrmint.” He gave the others a slight nod. “But this is no time for a happy homecoming. We need to leave immediately, all of us.”
Absinthe stepped forward and took Candlelite’s hand in both of hers. “We can be ready to leave within the hour.”
Jeshux shook his head negatively. “No good. Harmony’s fiends are hot on our trail. We need to leave now. Where’s Farewethor?”
Vohrmint spoke, “She took your messenger back to the palace at Dirsellia. He told her that all was forgiven by the King so she offered to bring him home. She thought it might be safer for him. But I can have everyone ready in no more than thirty minutes, then once you’re on your way me and my men will stay and act as a delaying force to buy you some time.”
Ignoring the big man’s offer for the moment Jeshux asked coldly, “What messenger are you talking about?”
A little startled by the question Vohrmint’s eyes hardened before he answered, “The one you sent ahead of you, first to the palace and then here.”
“I sent you no messenger,” Jeshux stated.
Everyone exchanged confused glances before Jeshux said, “Well there’s nothing we can do about that now, let’s shelve it and deal with it later.”
“What?” Candlelite exclaimed.
“I agree,” Vohrmint interrupted. “We have more important issues to attend at the moment, so, as to my plan sir?”
Jeshux nodded his head at Candlelite and told his lieutenant seriously, “Thank you my friend but I can’t ask you to stay here. There’re too many following us. It’d be suicide.”
Vohrmint’s eyes hardened further. “You didn’t ask, sir.”
Jeshux evaluated the battle-bred man before coming to a decision. He turned to the others and said, “Well all right then! What’re we standing around for? You’ve only got twenty-seven minutes left before departure!”
Candlelite and Absinthe had already retreated into the monastery to gather their few belongings and Vohrmint turned to the rest of his men who had subsequently gathered outside. “All right gentlemen!” he bellowed. “You heard the Commander General. Let’s prepare for war!”
“YES SIR!” the mercenaries raised their voices and their weapons in salute to their commanding officer and their leader.
Twenty-five minutes later everyone was ready and waiting outside the front of the monastery. Jin and his monks stood patiently at the top of the stairs and watched as last minute preparations were made by Vohrmint and his men. Two thirds of the men who had arrived with Jeshux also strapped on rifles and swords as Candlelite, Absinthe, and the others mounted fresh horses.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to leave with us?” Jeshux asked Jin from atop a large mare. “It won’t be safe for you to stay here.”
The wise old monk smiled benignly up at the mercenary leader and spoke calmly, “No, my son. This monastery has been our home and refuge for many decades, centuries for some. It would not feel right to abandon her now just because of a little turmoil.”
Jeshux grimaced. “I’m afraid this is going to be more than just a little turmoil. The monastery may not survive intact.”
“All the same, Jeshux, all the same,” Jin responded without fear.
Seeing the determination reflected back at him from the face of each and every monk before him Jeshux sighed deeply. “Well then Jin all I have to say is thank you, thank all of you, and I’m sorry to have brought this terrible tragedy to your doorstep.”
“What must be, will be,” the old monk intoned gravely. “Stress not for fate you cannot predict, nor control, as it is out of your hands. And now be off with you while you still have the time.”
“Aye,” Jeshux muttered. “So long my friend.” With that he turned his horse and followed by the rest of his motley assortment, fled away from the Midnight Monastery.


Sefu had witnessed the arrival of the mercenary Commander General from her place of concealment on the outskirts of the monastery. Having been none too pleased with this turn in events but realizing there was nothing to be done about it at the moment, she settled in to observe the goings on in anticipation of an opportune moment to strike her targets. And now less than an hour later Sefu scowled from her place of concealment as her prey rode off and left her behind. This job was definitely not going as smoothly as anticipated, definitely not doing much to enhance her reputation. However, it had been a long time since she had been presented with a challenge and if anything these would be saviors were definitely turning into a challenge.
Allowing herself a tight smile the assassin moved away from the front of the monastery, all the while keeping an eye on the monks as they made their way inside, and the mercenaries as they prepared for battle. If she was going to pursue her targets efficiently then she needed transportation so she made her way around the monastery until she found the stables.
The stables were a small, sparse affair mostly filled now with the exhausted animals that Jeshux and his men had arrived on. Sefu entered quietly so as not to disturb the tired creatures and made her way past the stalls until she found the horse that she desired.
After saddling the beast she led it outside, mounted, and quickly made her way in pursuit of her targets. As she galloped down the recently churned up road the assassin made a vow that they would not escape again.


Vohrmint and his men, nineteen in all, were ready and waited out front of the monastery. They did not have to wait long. From the surrounding cover of the trees that bordered the road came indistinct noises of travel, the sounds of the many feet of many species beating upon the hard packed dirt of the road and as it steadily grew louder the sound had the effect of steadily increasing the tension felt by the awaiting mercenaries. The Midnight Monastery was, on the surface of things, little more than a modest size structure built in the old manner of large hand hewn stones, which had been quarried not too far away, then brought and shaped on location before being set into place. The site of the monastery was a large clearing of a mostly natural design with only enough trees felled to supply the needs of the monastery’s construction. A single dirt pact road led to and opened into the clearing, split to circle around both sides of the monastery before it joined again on the other side and led away. The mercenary guard left to defend against and delay the enemy only had one real advantage offered by the terrain and this was that only a limited amount of troops could enter the courtyard-like frontal clearing after leaving the cover of the surrounding forest. This number was limited even further by the number of defenders in said clearing.
Vohrmint had his men situated in a double half circle formation with one set of ten soldiers arched away from the monastery with the other nine in front of them in a mirrored pattern that arched away from the road. He stood in the front of them all and calmly watched for visual confirmation of his enemy.
The horde Harmony had sent, after being worked into a frenetic state from the frantic chase led by Jeshux, barely paused or hesitated in any fashion in their advancement from the wooded roadway into the clearing. The mercenaries wasted no time but with rifles ready began a steady barrage of charged plasma, searing photons and hot lead, which dropped werewolves and goblins indiscriminately. Such a vile force as Harmony had deployed on this mission had little use for firearms and despite the increasing number of evil dead that had quickly begun to pile around them the mercenaries soon found that they were abandoning their own firearms in favor of their close quarters weapons of choice. Daggers were produced along with a variety of swords, some of the traditional bladed variety while others blazed fiercely with the arcane energy they contained. The goblins carried traditional gobline curved sabers while their bestial werewolf companions resorted to razor sharp claws and fangs.
It was soon apparent to Vohrmint that despite the ferocious bravery of his comrades the seemingly endless stream of enemies would soon overwhelm them. Then from over the trees came the giant bat like forms of Harmony’s vampiric air force. Dozens of the creatures flew in on membranous wings and struck the mercenaries from above. This was all the outnumbered defenders could handle.
Waving his sword frenetically Vohrmint took down opponents left, right, and above him before shouting the retreat. “Everyone fall back into the monastery!”
Without a wasted moment the surviving mercenaries turned to comply but every step was hard earned as the continued attack devastated them from behind. They fought every step of the way as goblins, werewolves, and vampires pressed in from all sides- even from above- and finally gained the doorway at the top of the monastery steps and desperately made it inside to the temporary sanctuary behind its closed doors.
“Now what?” one of the soldiers leaning on the door next to Vohrmint asked breathing hard.
Vohrmint looked sideways at the soldier and realized he still held his sword. Wiping brackish looking blood from the great blade before sheathing it he replied, “It won’t take long for those bastards to break in. I’m sure by now they’ve realized that Jeshux isn’t here but we’ve pissed them off and they’re not likely to leave before they’ve destroyed the monastery, unfortunately. Our responsibility is to the safety of the monks. Let’s locate Jin and the others while there’s still time.”
“Yes sir!” the remaining mercenaries chorused.
In the lead Vohrmint made his way through the large upper passageways. He found the stairwell he was looking for and the grizzled warrior headed down into the small lower passageways until they were well below ground level.
During the Midnight Monastery’s initial construction builders had sunk its foundation up to twenty feet into the ground with the rooms of the lower ten feet sealed, used only for storage or sometimes as places of strict seclusion for private meditations and secret ceremonies. Known only to Jin and a select few in the higher orders was that throughout the many decades of the monastery’s first century the monks had utilized different methods, not all of them in harmonic accordance with their enlightened ways of living, to dig and expand even further under the monastery’s foundations, tunnels and chambers up to fifty feet deeper in some places. It was to these secret places that Jin knew they would have to go.
Vohrmint led the mercenaries as far down into the catacombs as he could, which was not far, and found the monks of the Midnight Monastery where they were squirreled away in one of the larger storage chambers in the second level basements.
Jin met them outside the door and silently acknowledged their shared plight with a short nod towards the diminished mercenaries before him.
“If only immortality meant invulnerability,” the old monk intoned soberly.
“Aye,” Vohrmint agreed. “But if that were the case I’m afraid we’d all’ve been driven madder than Harmony long ago.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Jin sighed. “How much longer do we have?”
“I estimate another three to four minutes until they’re through the front door,” Vohrmint said just as a dim crunch was heard from overhead followed by a slight reverberation through the old stones.
“Make that zero minutes,” Vohrmint grinned fiercely. “I’m sure it won’t be long now until they find us. Fortunately these hallways will disadvantage them as much as they do us. We’ll defend you as long as there’s breath in our bodies.”
The monk released a sigh before speaking slowly, “That may not be necessary.”
Vohrmint’s eyes narrowed. “What are you driving at?”
Jin turned and opened the door at his back. Waving the mercenaries through the monk said, “What I mean is that we may be able to avoid any more conflict.” Continuing across the breath of the room the old man revealed, “A very long time ago, in the first decades of our order’s existence, it was conceived that although being peaceful in nature there may come a time when the servants of this monastery may have need to make a hasty, and in all probability, secret departure.”
Stopping in front of the chambers back wall the wizened old monk placed his hands upon the ancient stones and muttered a vague indecipherable phrase. There was a short pause, maybe only a heartbeat or two and then a low rumble began to vibrate silt from the cracks in the stones. Then the stones shifted in all directions and revealed a small doorway leading into darkness. Another short incantation and torches bracketed into the walls suddenly came to life lighting a short hallway ending in a stairwell that led down.
Turning to confront the astonished gazes of monk and mercenary alike Jin finished his narrative. “And so all those years ago this was built, at great expense and great loss of life. Times, it seems, were a lot more barbaric then and atrocities that we could not condone today, such as slave labor, were commonly practiced in the erroneous misconception that the end justified the means.”
Vohrmint was the first to come out of his amazement induced stupor. “Why you sly old dog!” he finally roared and slapped Jin on the back, almost knocking him over. “You’ve been holding out on us!”
“Yes. These passages have been a secret handed down from generation to generation among my line. I’m sorry for not mentioning it earlier. Maybe loss of life could have been prevented,” Jin bowed his head in sorrow.
“No sir, I approve,” Vohrmint laughed. “Those good old boys up there died bravely and with honor. They fully knew what they were getting into. We’re all volunteers here. Besides it’s good to have a few tricks up your sleeve, a few secrets.” There was an increase in the commotion coming from above which caused Vohrmint to pause in his praise. “What’s important now is to get all these good people out of here.”
Everyone heartily agreed and soon, after they had shepherded monk and mercenary alike through the secret passageway, only Vohrmint and Jin remained. The old men looked back the way they had come, one immortal with a fierce grin upon his face and the other just old with a tear in his eye for the loss of the ancient structure which had been his home for longer than he could remember.
“O-eemani forunitun tui,” Jin intoned. The stones behind them sealed as merc and monk turned to follow their friends and comrades to freedom.


Quite a few miles away a lone horseman hung back from his fellows.
Viewed from a hilltop the glow of many fires burned as a signal of the demise of a great edifice of sanctity to human kindness and compassion. Swallowing the lump that threatened to rise up in his throat Commander General Jeshux added the wanton destruction of the Midnight Monastery to his ever growing list of atrocities perpetuated by the Dark Lord Harmony and his minions. Jeshux then renewed his vow that the vile sorcerer would be made to pay retribution for all of his horrible crimes.
Then he swiftly turned his steed back to the road and followed his compatriots into the drowning twilight.


McAriicoys and his men- the entirety of Jeshux immortal mercenary force whom were not abroad- reached the massive gates that guarded Dirsellia just as dawn drew away the concealment of dark like a blanket from the distant horizon, cleaning it away with bright rays of pure light.
It had been years since they were last seen at these gates but the imperial guards had been sent in anticipation of their arrival, dispatched to receive with a hero’s welcome, these tired and war weary soldiers of fortune as they finally staggered home. None hesitated at their approach or showed the least bit of suspicion that these warriors were anything other than they appeared. If Harmony could have conceived it this homecoming would have been the perfect ruse to initiate infiltration.
After more than sixty years not only away from home but away from their very planet, the mercenaries were barely able to contain their excitement at arriving not only to the splendor of the capital but also the much needed rest and relaxation that such an a circumstance promised. So after the gloriously splendid greeting from the multitudes of people cheering and yelling their admiration, amidst banners exulting the mercenary’s bravery, and a seemingly endless stream of costumed entertainers parading for the soldiers return, McAriicoys was only too glad to dismiss his men to their well earned vacation and follow the captain of the guard to a snug and quite private bed secreted away in an unused corner of the city barracks. The city captain had insisted most fiercely that he be allowed to escort McAriicoys directly to the palace where he was awaited and would surely be offered much more luxurious accommodations. McAriicoys, being the simple officer that he was, adamantly refused these offers and no sooner had the door to his barracks room shut than his head hit the pillow and he was asleep.
An irritating rapping invaded his dreams and drew him awake well before he was ready. Sitting up McAriicoys discovered the source of the sound came not from his dreams but from the other side of the door. Muttering glumly he swung his legs off the bed, stood up, and went to answer the summons.
Pentooli stood in the hall looking refreshed and positively radiating rest. In her hands were steaming cups of black brew, one of which she offered McAriicoys with a smile.
“You look like hell, sir,” she said with her usual forwardness.
Waving his hand for her to come in, he took a drink of his coffee and said, “Dispense with the formalities Pen, we’re both on leave.” McAriicoys had to admit the sight of her was more refreshing than the coffee.
“Yes, sir,” she said with another smile.
McAriicoys shook his head and asked, “What’s the deal with you? You’re remarkably chipper this morning. Not like your usual self at all.”
“Just glad to be home I guess.”
“That’s understandable, after so long abroad I’m surprised there wasn’t a mutiny.”
Pentooli frowned. “Sir, you’re not serious? Are you? I mean we’re all volunteers. Jeshux never forced any of us to stay and we were well aware that we could leave at any time.”
McAriicoys laughed at her sudden seriousness. “No, no, of course not, I’m well aware of the nature of things. Every one of us understands the seriousness of the situation with Harmony and almost all of us have been harmed by that madman in a personal manner. It’s just,” and here he hesitated unsure how to proceed. He had not admitted these feelings to himself, let alone to someone else. “It’s just that after too many years a person gets tired of fighting and longs for something else, a peaceful existence… maybe a family.”
Neither one of them said anything for a few minutes, just sat and sipped their coffees. Then Pentooli said, “You know McAriicoys, you’re not the cold, stick in the mud, robo-warrior the troops say you are.” And then she laughed and it was a sweet musical sound.
Jeshux second in command arched an eyebrow and squared his shoulders, assuming more of his military bearing, and said, “And you, Pentooli Adamschild, are not nearly the uncaring ice queen men take you for.”
For an instant he was afraid that he had gone too far as a glacial hardness crept into her gaze and her mouth tightened. Then her features softened and she laughed her sweet laugh again. “No, I guess I’m not,” she conceded. “But it takes the right man to defrost me.” And she placed her hand on his.
Before McAriicoys had time to grow uncomfortable there was another knock at the door. He pulled his hand from hers, cleared his throat and once more became a grizzled military veteran.
“Yes, who is it?” he barked.
From outside the door came the muffled voice of the captain of the guard. “I’m sorry sir but the King requests your presence immediately!”
“I’ll be right there,” he answered before he tossed back the rest of his coffee and handed the empty cup to Pentooli. “Well, vacation’s over. But maybe tonight we can resume this conversation? Say, over dinner.”
She beamed her radiant smile at him and said mock serious, “Yes, sir! I’d like that, sir!” And then before he could say anything else she stood up and slipped out the door.
That woman, McAriicoys thought as he quickly put on his boots and jacket. Smiling ruefully he shook the hair out of his eyes and exited the cramped room that, for one night anyway, he had called home.
At McAriicoys sudden appearance the captain of the guard snapped erect and threw him a salute. “Good morning, sir. I’m sorry for the disturbance. I didn’t realize you had company.”
“Don’t worry about it Captain, and none of the formalities. I’m not your superior in any way. In fact right now I’m more of a civilian than anything.”
“Yes, sir,” The captain said. “Well, if you’ll follow me I’ll take you as far as the castle and then the royal guard will escort you to the King’s audience.”
“Well then let’s get to it,” McAriicoys rumbled still somewhat irritated.
The city captain spun on his heel and soon the two men were out of the barracks and winding their way down the city streets towards the castle. Everywhere they went McAriicoys was recognized as one of the brave mercenaries that made up the forces of Jeshux Immortals, as they had been dubbed. People waved, young men and boys saluted, and small children ran about laughing. It was an inspiring sight for the weary mercenary to see all of these people who had counted on him for their safety appreciating the time and effort that he had invested on their behalf. It really brought meaning to all of those years that he had spent away from home, fighting and McAriicoys resolve was renewed at seeing the public’s displays of respect and affection. By the time the city captain left him at the castle gate and in the hands of the royal guard, McAriicoys was feeling rather good about himself, all of the depression and irritability having evaporated.
Another ten minutes of travel through the hustle and bustle of the castle hallways found McAriicoys standing in front of the same ornate door which led to the same chamber where Jeshux had met with the King just over a month earlier.
At the guards nock on the silver and gold gilded door the King’s voice reverberated from the chamber with a resounding, “Enter!”
Upon entering the room McAriicoys was greeted with a friendly hug and a, “McAriicoys, my man. How are you?” from the King.
Released from the friendly embrace McAriicoys said formally, “I’m well your highness. And how are you?” The King looked tired and definitely seemed to have aged somewhat in the sixty or so years since he had last seen him.
“I’m well, McAriicoys. Tired of this business with Harmony but, well…,” the king disclosed.
McAriicoys nodded his agreement and said, “As are we all, your highness, as are we all.”
“And unfortunately this business is exactly what I’ve called you here to discuss. What news can you give me from the war front?”
McAriicoys had waited for this and was glad the King had got right to the point. He took a deep breath and began to relate the details of the campaign against Harmony from the moment of the mercenary’s harashna crossing to Earth. Even though he had most of this information already from Jeshux the king listened patiently as he considered having the perspective of things from McAriicoys equally important. After more than twenty minutes though his face was even older in appearance, his features grim, and his complexion pale.
“And we’re certain that the first place he’ll come is here,” McAriicoys finished after describing what he had learned of Harmony’s new ordnance and military power.
“This isn’t good,” the King muttered.
“I’m sorry sir,” McAriicoys said solemnly. “But that’s not all.”
The king groaned, “There is more?”
McAriicoys nodded, “There’s more.” And he proceeded to describe the arcane energy bomb that was only the size of a soccer ball.
“Your highness, you need to organize the city’s defenses immediately. Harmony’s foremost goal may be to come here but it is insanely likely that first he’ll unleash this weapon and he doesn’t have to, nor would he want to be, anywhere close to here when he does it.”
The King’s face paled further but his eyes narrowed and he asked, “What do you suggest that I do?”
“I don’t know,” McAriicoys heaved a weary sigh and wished that Jeshux were here to advise them both. “But it would probably be advisable to bring in the support of your top mages and technicians. All I can do is tell them what the weapon does and how it does it, anything to do with how to stop it or defend against it, well sir I’m only a simple military man and that kind of speculation is beyond my field of expertise.”
“Yes, of course it is,” the King sighed. “I’ll do so immediately. Is there anything else?”
McAriicoys stood up, troubled, and began to pace the room. “Your highness, I would like to suggest the help of one of my own as well, to help with both the scientific and the arcane aspects of this dilemma. Her name is Pentooli Adamschild and she has experience in both departments. She’s our head security advisor and technician, the best in her field.”
“Excellent!” the King exclaimed. “She will be a welcome addition among my own advisors. We need to assemble this team ASAP.”
“Agreed, your highness,” McAriicoys stopped pacing and faced the still sitting monarch. “And so, with your leave, I’ll go and fetch Pentooli, unless I’m needed elsewhere?”
“No. You’re free to go. Just have this lady come to the castle gate and I’ll have an escort awaiting her arrival.”
“Yes, your highness,” McAriicoys saluted and turned to go.
“One more thing McAriicoys,” the king said before he could open the door.
“Yes sir?” McAriicoys asked his hand on the door knob.
“I’m sure you know that I’m not happy with your commander for his actions regarding the Chosen Ones.” It was a statement not a question but still McAriicoys nodded his head in affirmation. The King continued, “It is a dangerous game that he plays. I just want to know what his intentions are now. What will he do? Where is he taking them?”
McAriicoys turned to look the king directly in the eye and took the risk of addressing him by name. “It’s a dangerous game in which all of us are engaged Zakeriah. I’m confident that Jeshux knows what he’s doing, as should you be. As for his intentions, I couldn’t tell you beyond that they were going to leave the Midnight Monastery. I don’t know anything else.” At the King’s anguished look he added, “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, yes,” the King replied, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. “Thank you McAriicoys. You should be on your way.”
“Yes your highness.” And without another word McAriicoys exited the chamber.
Although he knew his way around the castle the guard that had brought him to the King had waited and led him swiftly to the gate. Once on the street he strode purposefully to the city garrison and once again was able to bask in the glow of the people’s recognition. For some reason he did not experience the same elation as he had felt on the way to the castle but it still made him feel better.
Once at the garrison McAriicoys had little trouble finding the section in which Pentooli was bunked and a few minutes later it was he who was knocking on her door.
“Yes?” came her voice from the other side.
“Pen, it’s McAriicoys,” he said.
The door opened and there she was smiling radiantly. As soon as she saw his face she grew sober. “What is it?” she asked briskly sensing formal business. “Do you want to come in?” she added.
“No, but I need you to report to the castle immediately. I’ve volunteered you for the defense committee against that arcane energy bomb and they need you ASAP.”
“Yes, sir!” she responded promptly. “It just so happens I’ve been working out some things on that subject. It’ll just take me a moment to gather my notes.” She started to turn away and then hesitated. “Um, you will accompany me, won’t you?” she asked almost shyly.
“Of course,” McAriicoys replied.
“Oh, ok good,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
Five minutes later the two of them made their way back to the castle. Neither of them said much as they walked, both of them had other things on their minds but all the same they kept glancing at each other out of the corner of their eyes. Once they arrived at the castle gate Pentooli surprised McAriicoys by giving him a light kiss on his cheek.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she said and then saluted, “Sir!” turned and strode into the castle but if McAriicoys could have foreseen what the future had in store for them he would not have settled for just a kiss on the cheek.


Jeshux was hanging back from the rest of the Midnight refugees. It had been three days since their narrow escape from the monastery and was the day after McAriicoys had had his audience with King Zakeriah. Late the evening before, from the direction of the capital, there had been a flash of intense light, bright enough to turn the evening twilight into midday for almost four seconds. Jeshux feared the worst for his friends and comrades and had, in his musings, taken to trailing at the rear of the procession. After some time at the back of the line he began to notice inconsistencies in his horse’s behavior and started to suspect that they were being tailed. After nearly a day of subtle investigation the commander general was almost certain of the reality of their shadow and during their midday break he took Candlelite aside and confided his suspicions to the young man. Then he enlisted his aid in preparing a little surprise for whoever may be behind them.
Forty-five minutes later had given the two men plenty of opportunity to devise a clever distraction for their pursuer as their party headed on down the road and with the aid of a bit of magic, Jeshux and Candlelite discreetly faded into the trees.
They did not have long to wait for no sooner had the refugees rounded the first bend in the road, which put them out of sight, then a figure on horseback cautiously made its way into the clearing from the direction they had come.
Jeshux was surprised to see that the figure was astride a horse of the monastery and his first thought was perhaps this person was a survivor. But no, as soon as this thought entered his head he dismissed it. If this person truly had been a survivor of the Midnight Monastery then there would be no reason for such a slow and discreet approach. As the rider drew nearer he could plainly see that it was a female. She was dressed all in black with a red sash about her waist. There were no signs of weaponry but that meant nothing for she bore herself as a warrior and had the confident air of a professional.
Candlelite was the first to voice Jeshux own suspicions. “The assassin,” his nearly inaudible whisper was not a question.
Jeshux said nothing, only nodded and with a hand signal indicated for Candlelite to stay put. In implementation of their plan he began to creep silently around the perimeter of the clearing so that he might gain the assassin’s rear.
Once he was in position Candlelite, who had been following Jeshux stealthy progress, stood up and stepped in front of the black clad rider.
All that Candlelite could think of was Absinthe and his close brush with death at this woman’s hands and he addressed her with unconcealed anger, “Hello Sefu Atarle, I believe you’re looking for me.”
Startled though she was Sefu’s recovery was almost instantaneous. Smiling benignly she asked, “And where is your beautiful consort Chosen One?”
“Don’t you wish you knew,” Jeshux took this moment to step out of hiding with a plasma pistol aimed at Sefu’s back.
“Well met Commander General,” the assassin nearly purred his title while barely gifting him with a glance over her shoulder. “I should have given you more credit than I did.” And slowly she began to turn her mount sideways in the road.
“Don’t move Atarle!” Jeshux barked as Candlelite drew his own pistol.
Sefu laughed, as surprisingly beautiful sound to have come from such a dark soul.
Turning back to Candlelite she sneered, “And what do you intend to do with that pup?”
If she hoped to anger him she failed. Candlelite’s rage was already to the boiling point but although he had his teeth clenched he managed to speak calmly, “Whatever proves necessary assassin. You did almost kill me and Absinthe after all.”
“Yes,” her eyes slit like a cats and her voice went sweet and sugary again. “almost. A very strange and unfortunate mishap, one I’ve pondered and intend to rectify.”
At her last word Sefu quickly and gracefully slid out of her saddle while at the same time throwing a shuriken, deftly plucked from somewhere on her person. The spinning star hit Jeshux pistol just as he squeezed the trigger, which threw his shot wide and caused him to drop his weapon. This gave the assassin enough time as she hit the ground to hurl another shuriken between her horse’s legs which ended Candlelite’s frustration at having his target blocked by the animal.
He saw Candlelite drop and Jeshux stomach lurched as it had not since he had first enlisted in the Imperial Army all those centuries ago. Please let him be all right, he prayed fervently as he drew his sword and rushed the downed assassin.
Sefu was not down long though. She saw the young man fall and sensing the approach of the immortal she spun, drew a sword seemingly from nowhere, rose and blocked the downward arc of her enemy’s blade.
She fell back from her opponent with a grunt as Jeshux riposted with all of his male strength. Damnit! Sefu for all of her skill could not match the mercenary when it came to brute power and he knew it. He did not even try to be tactful but attempted to wear her down through sheer force alone. Well, she could not let that happen.
Falling back under the mercenary’s onslaught, the assassin feigned a weakened defense to gain some space.
As soon as she had put a safe distance between herself and her attacker Sefu spread her arms and shouted for the heavens to hear, “Sombalii Don For Natu!”
Jeshux started to press his attack when the assassin made her declaration. He immediately recognized the incantation and cursed himself for a fool. He had thought he had her on the ropes but realized she had played him to gain the time she needed to weave a spell of strength augmentation.
He only had one card to play so he wasted no time.
Advancing warily he circled around to the assassin’s sword side, keeping his own sword raised in front of him. Just a little more and his trap would be set, just a little more. The assassin lunged, perhaps overconfident that her magically induced strength had evened the odds. Just as their swords were about to clash Jeshux gave his hilt a subtle twist. Bright blue and hot white surges of charged ions suddenly flashed the length of his swords blade like a miniature lightning storm. No sooner had this occurred and the two weapons met but instead of the distinct clanging of steel on steel there was the popping of electrical wiring grounding out followed by the clatter of Sefu’s sheared blade as it hit the rocky soil.
In her fist the assassin held the now useless hilt of her broken sword. Well, well, it seemed that she was not the only one who knew how to play dirty. She had underestimated this mercenary yet again. It would not happen a third time.
Sefu threw herself out of the way of the mercenary’s next blow while reaching into one of the many pockets concealed about her person and withdrew a charged weapon of her own. She flipped a concealed switch on the cylindrical device. The plasma blade sprang to life, dancing ethereally out of the hilt as black as a midnight sky on a moonless night.
“You are not the only one to deviate from the old path,” Sefu chortled as she swung the blade from side to side and wafted the smell of scorched atmosphere to Jeshux nostrils.
“Damn you and your devious devices!” Jeshux snarled his own blade generating the smell of a charged atmosphere similar to that created by a thunderstorm.
“And you and yours as well,” the assassin countered evenly. “It was many years I carried that sword.” She indicated the broken blade and the discarded hilt. “And many times had it been repaired but the curse of your weapon has surely made an end of it now.” An ion-sword was notorious for destabilizing anything solid it struck- no matter the object be of metal, plastic, or even wood- so the broken blade as well as the hilt were sure now to be brittle and useless.
The two warriors circled each other warily. Evenly match and now aware of the others measure, neither was willing to make the mistake that gave the other the advantage.
Coming together again the two blades cut the very air before colliding in a fury only a physicist could appreciate fully. Back and forth the two combatants raged across the clearing, trampling the scrubby grass that grew to either side of the road. The air was hot with the crackle of their weapons and smelt increasingly flat and sterile with every connected stroke.
Jeshux began to grow desperate as he felt his strength begin to lag against the magically charged assassin. Searching desperately for an opening in his adversary’s defense he was dismayed when he could not find one. Sefu was just too good.
He was so concentrated solely on meeting his enemy’s advances that Jeshux missed a step. As he stumbled he was suddenly surprised when Sefu let out a low grunt before her body tried to straighten like a board and fell to the ground in a heap. Behind her Candlelite stood grinning with the mercs recovered plasma pistol in one hand and a smear of blood over his left eye.
“I almost had her,” Jeshux breathed heavily as he deactivated his sword and stuck the blade in the ground so he could lean on it while he caught his breath.
Candlelite gave him a short bow and said, “Thank you would be more appropriate, I think. Because from my perspective it looked like you were losing. And you’re welcome.”
“Thanks,” Jeshux begrudged with a grin as he accepted his pistol from the younger man and then looked at the crumpled form of the assassin. “Let’s get her searched and trussed up before she wakes from that knock you gave her on her noggin.”
Jeshux sheathed his sword and walked over to Sefu to begin patting her down while Candlelite jogged off to gather some rope from where their horses were concealed.
“That’s quite the collection,” Candlelite remarked when he returned with the rope.
Jeshux had a small pile of various weapons sitting next to him that he had stripped from the assassin’s person. “This is just the beginning,” he said. “I’m starting to find the hidden pockets now.”
By the time he was done Jeshux had accumulated a small arsenal as well as a wide variety of edged weapons, large and small, ranging from throwing stars and knives to nunchucks, and a short folding staff but nothing was more impressive than the knife he pulled out of her boot. Jeshux estimated that in Sefu’s small grip the blade would resemble that of a small sword.
Candlelite then lashed her limbs together from head to toe and the two men stood back to wait for their captive to regain consciousness, they did not have to wait long.
The assassin gradually regained consciousness with small tossing and turnings before her eyes snapped open to glare at her captives as she struggled against her bonds. Upon spotting Candlelite her eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed.
“Impossible!” Sefu spat the word. “You are dead.”
Candlelite held up the shuriken she had thrown at him. He grinned maliciously but there was humor in his voice when he said, “You know your aim isn’t that good. Maybe you need more practice.”
Despite her bonds Sefu lunged at Candlelite and Jeshux sword flicked out as fast as light, its blade flashing steel once more. She pulled up short of the point at her neck and her frustration was barely contained as she spoke, “Damn you and damn the day I took this job!” It was plainly evident that the assassin’s pride was considerably wounded.
“I agree with you there,” Jeshux allowed himself a quiet chuckle at her discomfort, then his voice grew hard once more as he began his interrogation. “Speaking of who hired you.” He pressed the tip of his sword into her neck.
Sefu gave her captives her sugary smile, “You know damn well who hired me.”
“We know who’s pulling the strings but who commissioned the deal?”
“I’m not at liberty to reveal my clients.”
“Damnit bitch we know who your client is." He pushed the tip of his sword to her neck until it drew blood. “Who commissioned the deal? No games!”
Gritting her teeth Sefu drew back just enough to speak, “All right, all right. Lower your sword.”
“No tricks?” Jeshux asked.
“No tricks,” Sefu conceded.
Jeshux looked at Candlelite who had been following the exchange carefully. “She’s telling the truth,” he said.
Trusting the other man’s animal instincts Jeshux nodded and slowly lowered his sword. “All right assassin, talk,” he said.
Taking a deep breath Sefu began, “I don’t know who they were.” At Jeshux narrowed gaze she quickly added, “They were mages, they were mages. They had brown cloaks with green trim. I couldn’t identify them though, they had their hoods up.”
“Go on,” Jeshux prompted.
“I was brought the message by a boy while in a bar. I then met a guide in the forest who blindfolded me. I estimated that we had walked about one point seven miles before he removed the blindfold. We were in a cave and I was brought another four miles or so underground before I met the mages. They told me who the targets were, gave me half of the money then with the assurance of the rest upon verification of the jobs completion, and the journey was repeated in reverse.” The assassin’s sigh conveyed obvious disgust with herself. “That’s all I know, I swear.”
Jeshux looked at Candlelite, who nodded.
“Good,” he said thoughtfully. “Green trim, hmm, I think the mages with the green trim come from Gonderlund.”
“What is it?” Candlelite asked when he saw Jeshux frown.
“That can’t be right. Gonderlund is supposed to be one of the kingdom’s most loyal supporters. One of his top advisers is a mage from Gonderlund. I think this may be something we need to look into.”
“And what about me?” the assassin asked.
“What?” Jeshux asked coming out of his reverie. “Oh, yes, well you’re coming with us, of course. We can’t allow you to continue to run rampant.”
“So we’re going to Gonderlund?” Candlelite asked.
“Yes,” Jeshux answered. “Something tells me that this connection is important. I’m not sure why but at least now we have a destination.” He frowned again, “Candlelite, get the horses. We need to catch up with the others.”
“All right,” Candlelite said. “I’ll be right back.”
Sefu had lapsed into a sullen silence after her confession so Jeshux walked over to the pile of various items that he had stripped from her person, the tools of her assassin trade.
“Quite the collection,” he said.
“Thank you,” Sefu answered sarcastically.
Within minutes Candlelite returned leading three horses.
“Look what I found,” the young man said holding up the reigns of Sefu’s horse. “She was just standing there munching grass with our horses.”
“Good. I wasn’t looking forward to sharing a mount with this scum,” Jeshux said indicating the assassin with a thumb jerked in her direction before he pulled a bag from where it hung on his saddle and began depositing Sefu’s toys into it.
Candlelite came over and jerked Sefu roughly to her feet and then, despite her protestations, slung her across her saddle on her stomach.
“That ought to do it,” he smugly smiled at her after tying her securely in place. “We wouldn’t want you to fall off, now would we?”
The indignant woman refused to give her captors the satisfaction of a response and so the two men swung into their saddles and with their captive in tow, set off to rejoin their companions.


The sky was crystal clear and bright blue, not a cloud in sight. Off in the distance a mild breeze ruffled the needles and leaves that covered the mountain range. In search of a meal a red-tailed hawk winged its way across the grassy plain below, unfortunately all of the lowland prey had secreted themselves safely in their burrows in fear of a much deadlier threat.
The hawk let out a sudden, piercing cry and fled back the way it had came as a massive flock of squeaking, screeching vampires flapped its way across the sky and blotted out the sun. Below, in their shadow, marched the vast hordes of Harmony’s army. Rank upon rank of goblins, werewolves, and humans trampled the grass in wide swathes, destroying the habitat of small wildlife for miles, millions of troops in a perfectly coordinated precision march. Mindlessly they moved toward the mountain range that was their goal, carrying in their midst Harmony’s ultimate weapon. Their destination was Matanukan Peak, the highest point in the entire range and the perfect eerie to unleash the perfect weapon.
Harmony rode in the middle of the mob just to the front of the Arcane Energy Canon. His litter was born by sixteen large werewolves and was canopied in a light opaque material jet black in color. Behind this veil mounted on a throne of bones sat the dark sorcerer. His hands clutched tightly at the armrests and a twisted smile played at the corners of his mouth. Soon, with the aid of magnifiers, the keep of his enemy would be in sight.
Once atop the great peak that was Matanukan the army would be afforded a range of hundreds of miles in any direction in which to unleash his arcane energy canon, also this vantage point would provide an excellent shelter from the backlash of force once they delivered the arcane energy bomb into the capital.
For two days this massive army marched across the desert until they hit the plains then another three days took them over the grasslands and into the mountains. The afternoon of the third day found the soldiers of darkness settling into position on top of Matanukan Peak. While the bulk of Harmony’s army was scattered at various positions throughout the mountains only about twenty thousand troops were camped on the peak and these were mostly upper echelon soldiers. A group of these were busy overseeing the placement of the arcane energy canon.
While the canon was busy being settled in place Harmony was busy picking his fastest werewolves and two trusted goblins to ride them in delivery of the arcane energy bomb to the palace capital of AnEerth. He had already oriented himself in relationship to the palaces position and he planned to witness its destruction before full dark.
Mounted atop their feral steeds the two goblins made final adjustments to the straps of the backpacks they wore. One carried the bomb while the other bore the detonation device. Once ready they followed their demented master beyond the boundaries of the camp.
There was no conceivable way that the two werewolves could travel the necessary distance in the time designated so Harmony planned a simple bit of teleportation to solve this minor problem. Once well away from the other troops the two goblins nudged their werewolves close to one another and closed their eyes. They heard their master mumble something unintelligible then felt the unpleasant displacement and compression of de-atomization before they opened their eyes again…
…and found themselves an estimable four hundred miles distant from the mountain range. Taking a quick moment to establish their position from the sun they turned and quickly urged their mounts to top speed for Dirsellia.
Dusk found the werewolves panting heavily in the grass approximately five mile from the walls of the city and as the sun dropped from the sky the two goblins huddled around the arcane energy bomb where they diligently connected the detonator. The detonator was a small black square with a digital readout and six green wires trailing from its housing, three on either side. It mounted to the bomb magnetically and then the six wires plugged into an equal number of jacks. Once connected one of the goblins set the detonator and then the two terrorists sat back against their steeds to enjoy a last meal.


King Zakeriah had by royal decree tried to organize an orderly evacuation of the surrounding countryside to the city but, as in all crises, bedlam ensued. Messengers were sent out from the four corners of the city, in the end some even passed remarkable close to the werewolf mounted goblins delivering the very treat these messengers attempted to deliver their people from. Refugees flooded the city in the thousands. Panicked and disorganized they sparked more panic in their city dwelling neighbors.
As the day passed with little progress made to blanket the palace with a protective shield, let alone the city and, with more people arriving from the country at every moment, Zakeriah had little choice but to begin evacuating the city into the palace. Mostly women and children were allowed through the palace gates but as in any emergency situation there were men of importance and men without honor that did what they could to survive. Not knowing with any certainty just when Harmony may attack also added to the strain the king felt and he had men patrolling the outlands in a continuous effort to ferret out any agents that the dark sorcerer might send.
Despite the gargantuan efforts made by the many mages, magicians, and technicians at the disposal of the royal house when the worst did happen they were sorely under-prepared for it. At approximately seven fourteen p.m., with the sun down, dark almost fallen and only the palace and a portion of the city covered by tenuous shields, a soundless explosion occurred that wiped out nearly a five hundred mile radius and sent shockwaves accompanied by a blinding flash of light for many more.
It was this brilliant light that Jeshux witnessed after he and his party had fled from the destruction of the Midnight Monastery.


It was nearly two weeks before Jeshux and crew sighted the city of Gontiluna, capital of Gonderlund. Jeshux had developed an increasing sense of unease as they got closer and closer to the city. He could not quite put his finger on it though and about three miles from the outlying township it finally came up in conversation.
“Is it just me or is something strange going on here?” Candlelite asked the Commander General as he pulled his horse up next to him.
“You’ve noticed it too?” Jeshux glanced around suspiciously.
Absinthe and Max rode up to where the two men were conversing.
“It’s so quiet,” Absinthe noted, nearly whispering to herself.
“Aye,” Max chimed in before he took a swig off of a small flask. “Where is everyone?”
Jeshux suddenly snapped his fingers, “That’s it! Max you’re a genius…”
“Naturally,” Max interjected.
“…there isn’t anyone around,” Jeshux continued. “There’s no one in the fields, no one on the roads, and no children, nobody.”
“You’re right,” said Candlelite. “Why didn’t we realize it sooner?”
“It’s just so strange,” said Absinthe. “We’re so used to the hustle and bustle of commerce and civilization that our senses just failed to register its absence.”
“So this now begs the question… where is everyone?” Max took another swig off of his flask, offered it around, and re-pocketed it when everyone politely declined.
“The question whose answer is worth a thousand pounds of gold,” Jeshux muttered. “And we all need to be double careful until it’s answered.” He then positioned everyone but Sefu within the middle of his eight mercenaries, the assassin he put out front flanked by two guards. Sticking close together they made their way through the deserted township.
Presently they made their way through the town and stopped in front of the open gates of the Citadel of Gontiluna. That the gates were open was not to be considered strange in itself for in times of peace it was always so and AnEerth had been in an almost constant state of tranquility for many centuries. What was strange however, was the absence of sentries. No matter the state of affairs in the world sentries were always posted and in the mage city of Gontiluna they were almost always soldiers of sorcery.
“Where are the guards?” Jeshux mused. “This is most irregular.”
“What next boss?” Candlelite inquired.
“We’re going in,” Jeshux answered and turned to the two mercs guarding Sefu. “You two, take the prisoner over to the gate house. I want you to stay here while we investigate.”
The two men saluted, “Aye, sir!” They led their captive’s horse over to the gate house.
“All right,” Jeshux clucked his horse into motion. “Let’s go. And remember, caution is the word of the hour.”
With the mercenary escort still surrounding them they made their way through the gate and slowly proceeded down the deserted street. Bits of trash drifted idly by, pushed by gentle breezes. The air carried the faint but unmistakable odor of decay, an underlying aroma of death that stalked the vigilant travelers. The horses seemed to sense something too and began to grow twitchy with unease.
“Something is really wrong here guys,” Absinthe stated, a hint of fear in her voice. “I can smell it.”
“We can all smell it sweetheart,” Max said dryly.
“Not like me you can’t,” she retorted sharply. “I can really smell it.”
“Stay calm Abbie,” Candlelite placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I can smell it too.”
Absinthe put her hand on his and tried to smile at him.
“What is it?” Jeshux asked.
“I don’t know Jeshux,” Candlelite inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. “It’s a wrongness in the atmosphere. Something strange. Unnatural.”
“It’s alive,” Absinthe whispered.
“What do you mean, alive?” Jeshux peered around trying to catch a glimpse of anything. “Everything looks pretty dead to me.”
“No Jeshux,” Candlelite countered. “She’s right. I don’t quite get it myself but the air is definitely charged with something.”
“Magic?” Max asked.
“Maybe,” the young man answered.
The Citadel looked as if at any time it would come back to life. Everything was abandoned. Doors stood open, carts were left stalled in the street, and viewed through the open doors were tables with the rotted remains of meals still placed upon them. Everything sat as if everyone had stopped in the middle of what they were doing and just walked away.
Looking around Jeshux came to a conclusion. “That has to be it,” He said. “Magic is the only thing that could have caused this sort of desertion. Some of these people were in the middle of eating for Death’s sake!”
“Magic,” Candlelite and Absinthe both said at the same time and looked at each other.
Suddenly, as if they had crossed some sort of barrier, the horses went completely skittish. Nostrils flaring and eyes rolling wildly they refused to go any further. Some reared up in defiance while others back-stepped nervously.
“Whoa!” Jeshux called as his horse reared. Pulling the reigns as the powerful beast came back down on all fours he led the panicked animal backwards. “Get back!” he called unnecessarily to the others as they did the same.
As soon as they had backed them up a few paces the entire group of animals reverted back to their normal behavior.
“Well that was fun,” Max chortled and unstoppered his flask.
“Strange is a better word scientist,” Jeshux responded and this time he did take the flask. “We need to go on foot from here.” He gave the flask back to Max saying, “I think there was a stable back a little ways. Let’s take the horses and make them comfortable.”
After the horses were situated in the abandoned stable, happily munching on some of the semi-fresh hay they had found, the intrepid explorers, in the same formation as before, made their way back down the deserted street.
Once they passed the point where the horses had spooked Jeshux noticed that both Candlelite and Absinthe had gone a little pale and were hanging back slightly, seemingly hesitant.
“What is it?” he asked them. “What’s wrong?”
Candlelite managed a smile, “Nothin’ boss. We’re just a bit more primal than y’all. Seems that whatever hit the horses is affecting us too.”
“Are you going to be all right?” Jeshux asked.
“We'll be ok Jeshux,” Absinthe told him. “Don’t worry about us.”
“If you say so,” the merc leader did not sound entirely convinced.
“We say so,” Candlelite said evenly.
“Ok then, let’s proceed,” Jeshux gave the order to move out. Their goal was the Citadel Magiplex, the Gonderlund Mage Guild Hall. Jeshux reasoned that if they were going to find any clues as to what happened to the city and its occupants it would be there that they found them.
The guild hall was an immense structure located in the middle of the Citadel. Having been erected shortly after the Citadel had been founded it had gained its enormous size from experiencing centuries of additional construction. Magicians, sorcerers, sages, mages, and wise men from all over came to this esteemed place of learning to study and experiment in the arcane arts. After nearly seven hundred years the Gonderlund guild hall had attained a reputation as the foremost institute for training in and knowledge of magical lore. It was this reason that Jeshux found it hard to believe that the men who had consigned Sefu had been mages of Gonderlund.
Looking up the steep staircase that led to the massive double doors that made up the guild hall entrance all Candlelite could say was, “Wow!” Nearly a thousand stairs climbed sharply to a wide landing where four large and intricately carved pillars upheld the ornate overhang above the entrance. The entire building was a work of art with intricately carved stonescapes featuring dragons, werewolves, a Cyclops, and giants all being confronted by knights, wizards, warriors, and adventurers. There were kings and queens, forts and strongholds, and castles and palaces with spiraling towers and waving pennants.
“Double wow!” Absinthe echoed.
“Your people really don’t know how to do anything small, do they Jeshux?” Candlelite asked nervously and the merc’s answering grin reflected that nervousness.
Then from behind them came a loud crash followed by a clatter. Both Jeshux and Candlelite turned, drawing pistols and swords as they did so, along with the handful of mercs who also drew their weapons.
“What was that?” Max asked. The wizened little man had two large throwing knives at the ready, one in each hand. He had discovered a remarkable aptitude for hurtling the blades with surprising accuracy during his short stay at the monastery.
“Something smells dead over there,” Candlelite said indicating a small dark alley off to his left.
Jeshux gestured to two of his men, “Go check it out!” Without a word the two soldiers cautiously approached the alley and disappeared inside. A few minutes later they reappeared with one of them dangling a large rat by its tail.
“This is all we found, sir. There was also a barrel of garbage overturned back there.”
Candlelite sniffed at the small beast and shook his head, “Let it go. That’s not what I was smelling before.” He sniffed back in the direction of the alley. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” he verified.
Jeshux reslung his weapons, gestured for his men to do the same, and said, “Well let’s see if anyone’s home.” And then he turned and started up the stairs taking them two at a time.
Once the group had reassembled on the landing Jeshux ordered two men to stand guard outside the door.
“Detain anyone who approaches,” he told them.
“If anyone approaches,” Max said and chuckled. Jeshux glared at him.
“Just stay alert!” the Commander General told them.
“Yes, sir!” they made their weapons ready.
Jeshux led the rest of his group into the gloomy interior of the guild hall. Just inside the doors was a huge but short hallway finished entirely with a variety of antique wood. Rosewood, redwood, and ironwood stood out predominantly but interspersed throughout was also cherry, cedar, and maple which helped to create a pleasant pattern of subdued natural color. On the ceiling was painted an incredible and ancient mural of inspirational quality. The mural depicted two opposing mages bedecked in similar splendor obviously attempting to create their unique opinions of a perfect reality or heaven. In the middle of the ceiling the two landscapes came together swirling and mixing but with neither one gaining dominance over the other. The floor was an intricate mosaic made of differently shaded pieces of petrified wood laid out in a simple design that complimented the wood paneled walls. Scattered across the floor were broken pieces and shards of glass from the ornate lamps, desecrated and dark, dispersed down the hall and mounted on the walls. These remnants of illumination crunched under the footsteps of the explorers and disturbed the otherwise eerily perfect silence.
“I’m not liking this,” Candlelite said and drew his sword as he reached the closed doors at the end of the hall.
Doing likewise Jeshux signaled everyone else back. “Neither do I.” He put a finger to his lips and grabbed the handle of one of the large doors while Candlelite grabbed the other. “On three,” he whispered.
“One, two, three,” the two men chorused and with a heave they eased the doors open on silent hinges.
Their intrusion met no resistance. The giant antechamber was just as deserted as the rest of the country had been.
“What the fuck!” Absinthe breathed over Candlelite’s shoulder. He glanced at her as he had hardly ever heard her use profane language and her doing so was a testament of the stress she was feeling. Her face was drawn and pale and the knuckles of her hand were white where she gripped her pistol, holding it down at her side and pointed at the floor. He was feeling it also and knew that he probably looked just as bad.
“Abbie?” he whispered.
Seeing the look of sympathy and concern on his equally tense face she smiled wanly and said, “I’m fine. You?”
“I’ll be better once we’re out of here and back with the horses,” he replied truthfully. Then he flashed her, what he hoped was a reassuring smile and turned back towards Jeshux to follow the merc into the antechamber.
“This just isn’t right,” Jeshux said as the group spread out into the huge chamber. “Usually this place is swarming with people.”
The antechamber was a central area of activity in the guild hall. The carefully placed stones of the intricate mosaic that tiled the floor, although still as bright as the day they were laid, were worn smooth from the passage of countless thousands of people throughout the centuries. Students, teachers, scholars, and tourists were to be found in this room at all times, at all hours, day or night.
The small party of travelers was dwarfed by the size of the room, a sanctuary that could easily contain hundreds, maybe even thousands, and now occupied by no more than two dozen.
Once in the middle of the room Candlelite, Absinthe, and Max turned around in a couple of full circles to completely appreciate the enormity of the place.
Max whistled appreciatively. “Quite a feat of architecture,” he commented.
“You see how big the building is from the outside,” Absinthe said. “But until you’re inside of it and in a room this big…” she trailed off.
“There’s no way this can be structurally sound,” Candlelite mused. “The engineering is either impossible or very impressive. Outside anything we could’ve done back on Earth.”
“Not impossible,” Jeshux told him. “But yes, the design is beyond what the people of your world could accomplish. The mathematics that have gone into the engineering of not only this room but many other rooms- some equally or more impressive- and this entire building could only be discovered and developed with magic. In fact some of the rooms in the guild hall actually are structurally impossible, held together only by magic.”
The three non-natives managed to look suitably impressed by his revelation and Jeshux said, “We need to move on.” He motioned to two more of his men, “Go back to this side of that hallway and post up. You have the same orders as the guys outside. If you see anything or anyone and they don’t approach do not attempt contact. No matter what I want both of you here and only here. Got it?”
“Yes sir!” The two men saluted and trotted over to the open doors of the entry hall.
“So where are we headed?” Candlelite asked Jeshux as they trekked over to a staircase.
“The Archmagi’s quarters,” Jeshux replied. “If anyone had knowledge of what went on here it would’ve been her.”
“Her?” Absinthe noted, curious.
“Aye, her,” he huffed trudging up the stairs. Reaching the landing he clarified, “Her Eternal Grace the Honorable Archmagi Florencii Splendora Ambrosia. She’s an immortal and probably the most powerful sorceress on AnEerth. She’s been the Archmagi of Gontiluna almost as long as the guild has existed, about six hundred and thirty years or so.”
“Oh,” Absinthe said clearly awed.
“Her power is just one more reason that I find all of this so odd,” Jeshux said. “Some believe her power to be equal to or even greater than Harmony’s, at least before he went to Earth. Unfortunately she’s also renowned for staying well clear of anything political and despite many pleas from the royal house she adamantly refused to give her support.”
“Another reason Sefu’s commission is suspicious?” Candlelite queried.
“Precisely,” Jeshux replied.
They rounded a corner and halfway down the corridor they headed up another staircase. Presently Jeshux halted them in front of a nondescript door made of steel.
“This door leads to the Archmagi’s personal suite. Under no circumstances should you touch anything. Out of respect for a very powerful and influential lady and out of fear for your lives because you can never tell if the most innocent item may be what it seems.”
“What do you mean?” Absinthe asked.
“It’s hard to explain,” Jeshux said. “You’ll just have to trust me. Some of it though you’ll be able to see for yourself.”
Out of a sense of propriety, although he felt that it would not do any good, Jeshux knocked resoundly on the steel door. After about thirty seconds he knocked again, waited, and then opened the door.
“Archmagi Florencii? Archmagi Florencii Splendora?!” he yelled as he entered. “It’s Commander General Jeshux Jules! Is anyone here?”
There was no answer as the rest of the party joined him. The remaining two mercenaries, anticipating Jeshux order, stood outside to guard the door.
“Good men,” Max muttered. “What the hell!”
“What?” Jeshux spun to see what the matter was and then smiled as he saw what everyone was staring at. “Oh,” he said.
The steel door had transformed and grown into a large pair of ornate wooden doors luxuriously carved and decorated. While the hallway they had entered from had a standard ceiling height of around eight feet the ceiling inside the suite had magically grown to almost twenty feet.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Candlelite said.
Absinthe clapped her hands in wonderment. “Just like Alice in Wonderland,” she cried.
“What?” Jeshux asked.
“It was a story written back on Earth in the late 1800s,” Max told him. “It’s about a little girl who falls down a rabbit hole and finds herself in a strange and oftimes nonsensical world.”
“Oh,” Jeshux said and then turned back to search the suite.
‘Tell me,” Max began as he followed the other man. “How are we to find anything if we’re to touch nothing?”
“Just leave that to me,” Jeshux told him, concentrating his search to an area of the chamber that was seemingly dedicated to research, a personal library of sorts.
The Archmagi’s suite was obviously one of the chambers that were maintained more by principles of magic than by the more mundane engineering arts. It reminded Candlelite of pictures by an Earth artist named M.C. Escher which he had run across during one of the more lucid periods of his wanderings back home. From the entry door, to the unique geometry of the room, and even some staircases of Escher-esque quality that turned back on themselves and flipped upside down to lead to lofts that similarly defied gravity, everything that Absinthe and he encountered was a delight to behold and baffling to the senses. Although at times they were sorely tempted they managed to refrain from touching anything.
Just as the two of them were finishing their first round about the suite and Jeshux, with Max hovering over him anxiously, was beginning to grow frustrated with his own search, a few different things happened at once.
Jeshux swore in frustration, “Damnit! There’s nothing here!” and then turned to see Candlelite lean to inspect a painting when a female figure garbed in the robes of a Gontiluna guild apprentice suddenly burst from under a pile of cushions, rushed between him and Absinthe, knocking Candlelite over in the process, and darted for the door.
“Hey wait!” Jeshux yelled. When he saw the panicked person had no intention of stopping he shouted for the sentries outside the door, “Tanner! Hunter! Incoming, stop her!”
The two mercs responded just in time for the apprentice to flee between them and out the door.
“After her!” Jeshux shouted but the two men were already in hot pursuit.
A few minutes later there was a sickening scream, followed by a wet thump, then yells and the sounds of pistol fire with breaking glass.
“What the hell!” Jeshux pulled his own pistol and followed closely by Max and Candlelite, headed out the door.
The three men rounded the first corner in the hallway and quickly stumbled to a halt. “Jesus Christ!” Candlelite exclaimed.
The mercenary known as Tanner was busy hunched over Hunter, both hands on his neck as he tried to stem the blood that, regardless, flowed freely through his fingers. The apprentice that had flown from the suite of the Archmagi laid in a bloody heap no more than a dozen paces away.
“What in Death’s name happened here?” Jeshux demanded.
Concentrating on the task at hand Tanner ignored his commander and disgusted, Jeshux wandered over to where Max was kneeling next to the fallen apprentice. The scientist had rolled the body onto its back and the soldier was surprised to find that what he had first taken to be a woman was actually a young man perhaps seventeen years of age.
“He’s a real mess,” Max said standing up.
The corpse had had its throat completely removed, one eye was missing along with three fingers on its right hand, and the left leg was cocked at an unnatural angle at the knee.
“What in Death’s name happen here?” Jeshux repeated.
He turned back to the mercenaries. Tanner looked up at him as he closed his fallen comrades eyes with one hand. “He’s gone, sir.”
Jeshux opened his mouth to repeat his question a third time when he noticed Candlelite looking around in concern.
“Where’s Absinthe?” the young man asked with an edge of panic creeping into his voice.
“The last I seen she was by you when that young man pushed you aside,” Max told him indicating the body on the floor.
“All right, back to the suite,” Jeshux ordered. Tanner bent to pick up Hunter. “Leave him there for now,” Jeshux told him. “We’ll collect the bodies on the way out.”
They made double time back to the suite. Candlelite was the first one to burst through the door. He yelled out, “Absinthe!” but the suite was empty. He fell to his knees and let out an anguished sob.
Jeshux grabbed him under one arm and hauled him to his feet. “Get a hold of yourself!” he shouted in his face. “She’s all right. We’ll find her.”
“How can you say that? How can you know?” Candlelite demanded.
“Because of the prophecy,” Jeshux told him. He still spoke firmly but more gently now. “Damnit Candlelite, I’m a practical man. I’ve been soldiering most of my life and I’ve lived a long time. I’ve always left the hoodoo for those with a better mind for it than mine but let me tell you that if you and she were meant to die than neither one of you would have survived that day in the royal gardens and you sure as hell wouldn’t have survived that day in the clearing. Do you hear me?” and he shook the younger man a little. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Candlelite’s chin had fallen to his chest during Jeshux little speech and his eyes were fixed on the floor but he understood and he lifted his head to lock his gaze with the mercenary’s. “So what do we do?” he asked.
“Good man,” Jeshux said and gripped both of Candlelite’s shoulders. “First we search the room.”
No sooner had this been said and Max called from across the suite, “Hey! I think you two should look at this.”
The old scientist was standing in front of the painting that Candlelite had been studying when the apprentice had bowled him over. Max had his legs spread and his hands clasped behind his back. He was looking over his shoulder at the other two men as they approached.
“What have you got scientist?” Jeshux asked.
“I’m not sure, soldier,” Max turned to Candlelite. “My boy, weren’t you looking at this painting when you were so rudely pushed aside?”
“Yes,” Candlelite answered.
“Is there anything different about it?”
Candlelite squinted at the painting and then pushed Max aside to look at it closer. It was not large but of a medium size. It was in a plain wooden frame about five feet tall by three feet wide and it was hung about six and a half feet off the ground. Candlelite peered at it closely. He could tell that there was something different about it but he could not quite put his finger on it. The painting itself was nothing special. Almost as plain as the frame that held it, it depicted a room of outlandish proportions and unnatural geometry. Earlier when he had been looking at it he had been trying to decide why the strange room had looked so familiar.
“It’s a painting of the suite!” he exclaimed suddenly.
“Yes,” Max said. “Yes it is.”
“But that’s not what’s different,” Candlelite mused and peered at it closer. “Holy shit there’s a person in there, a woman!” He turned to Max and said, “She wasn’t in there before.”
“Precisely my boy, precisely,” Max smiled. “And that’s not just any woman, it’s Absinthe.”


Sefu Atarle sat bound and gagged on the floor in the corner of the guard house. She watched the men who were assigned to watch her through half slit eyes. Although it had been almost an hour since the Commander General had left them to go with the others into the Citadel neither man had moved or said a word. The assassin could not help but acknowledge that these men were extremely well disciplined soldiers. In the weeks following her capture she had been under constant surveillance, even during the most intimate of moments, much to her chagrin, and her guards scarcely even blinked.
After an hour had passed her guards suddenly became distracted by a sound from outside. Still without saying a word the two mercs looked at each other, one guard made a slight gesture, the other nodded imperceptibly and ducked out the door with his rifle ready. Not three minutes later there was the distinct sound of a rifle being discharged followed by a short scream and then silence.
Looking nervous the lone guard glanced at her and Sefu could see the indecision in his eyes. Shouldering his rifle he seemed to make up his mind as he said, “You better not move!” and then turned and also ducked out the door.
Ah ha! she thought. Finally, now’s my chance. And without wasting any time she clicked the heel of her right boot against the ground which caused a small blade to spring from the toe. Since her hands were bound behind her back she had to bend her legs and turn her feet at an awkward angle to maneuver the blade into position. Then, with her ankles almost breaking and her shoulders straining in their sockets, she just barely was able to saw through her restraints. Once her hands were free she untied her feet and removed the gag from her mouth. She re-concealed the blade in her boot and rubbed some circulation back into her hands before moving to the door. Cautiously she took a look outside.
The area in front of the Citadel remained as deserted as it was when she arrived and just as silent. Now that she was free Sefu contemplated making a clean getaway but almost as soon as the thought entered her head she banished it. No, instead she turned and headed through the gates, into the Citadel and towards where the sounds that had drawn her guardians had come from. She headed down the main thoroughfare and it did not take long before Sefu came upon the mangled remains of a mercenary. The soldier had been torn into so many pieces that if it had not been for been for a scuff on one of his boots she would never have recognized him. Close by was his rifle. She slung the weapon over her shoulder and then went about the distasteful task of searching the bloody remnants. She found a couple grenades, a pistol, and two knives- one combat/survival, the other a well balanced throwing knife. She also discovered a small pile of drying vomit, presumably from the man’s comrade. Ha, she thought. Nice to know these mercenaries weren’t perfectly disciplined!
The way Sefu was thinking Jeshux could not help but be curious about the state of affairs in Gontiluna and would probably head straight to the guild hall to look for answers. Her intentions were to follow that assumption and lay a trap for her ex-capturers. As she prepared to leave the bloodspot that used to be a mercenary she heard cries of rage followed by rifle fire followed by cries of pain, then the eerie silence set back in. The sounds had come from the direction she was headed in and setting the rifle to her shoulder she set off at a brisk trot for the guild hall.


“I couldn’t believe my eyes at first,” Max said. “But if being here and being involved in all this has taught me anything, it’s taught me to be open minded.”
“But how did she get inside a painting?” Candlelite stressed.
“Magic,” Max said a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“Because she couldn’t help touching things,” Jeshux said angrily. “Despite my warnings!”
“Come on Jeshux,” Candlelite spoke up. “What were you just telling me? We have to find a way to get her out.”
“Damnit, this is the last thing we need!” Jeshux complained. It was not something the mercenary made a habit of but the stress of the last hour was pushing him to it. “We’ve got a deserted city; I’ve got a man dead along with perhaps Gontiluna’s last survivor, now a woman trapped in a painting, and no answers to any of it!” He spun on heel. “Tanner! Get your ass over here!”
The bloody soldier had managed to clean himself up but he still looked a mess. “Yes, sir?”
“Tanner, what happened out there?” Jeshux pointed at the door.
“It was terrible, sir. One moment we’re chasing that apprentice, he went around the corner and immediately starts screaming. We rounded the corner, barely having time to shoulder our rifles, and the poor bastard was being ripped apart.”
“Ripped apart by what?” Jeshux asked.
“People sir, looked like mages.”
“Mages!” Jeshux was incredulous.
“I know how it sounds but sir, they were wearing the robes. Something was wrong with them though. They were fast and strong. Our rifles didn’t stop them and sir,” a haunted expression came into Tanner’s eyes. “They were eating the apprentice.”
“Finish your report, soldier,” Jeshux ordered not without sympathy.
“Well sir, we started firing and as I said our rifles wouldn’t stop them. They overpowered Hunter and ripped out his throat. I kept firing and finally they turned tail and went through the window. I bent to assist Hunter and then you were there. That’s all,” the mercenary finished his narrative and went silent.
Absinthe was temporarily forgotten as Candlelite listened intently. When the soldier was done he said one word, “Zombies.”
“What?” Jeshux asked.
“It sounds like they were zombies,” Candlelite told him.
“And what are zombies?” Jeshux persisted.
“You don’t know what zombies are?” This time it was Candlelite’s turn to be incredulous.
When Jeshux shook his head Max cleared his throat and clarified, “Zombies are old mythical Earth monsters. They are usually people, but sometimes animals, who come back from the dead and almost invariably consume human flesh. Notoriously hard to kill but usually just as notorious for being incredibly slow. I’ve never heard of a fast zombie.” The old man pushed his glasses up on his nose.
Disgust had replaced confusion on his face and Jeshux growled vehemently, “Necromancy!”
“Necromancy?” Candlelite echoed.
“The magical art of bringing the dead back to life,” Jeshux explained. “But it’s been illegal to be a necromancer for over four hundred years. King Zakeriah’s predecessor reinstated the law after a fifty year lapse. It’s said that he always thought the worst thing he ever did was allow necromancers to start practicing again.”
“All right,” Candlelite said suddenly switching gear. “All well and good, one mystery solved, now what about Absinthe?”
“Sorry Candlelite,” Jeshux sighed. “I got carried away but I told you she would be fine and she is.”
“How can you…?”
Jeshux cut him off by holding one hand in the air, “Hold on! Now listen to me. Things like this painting aren’t dangerous. In fact they’re pretty common.” He turned to the scientist, “Max, you of all of us can probably understand the principles of this type of painting.”
Max smiled and said, “Let me guess, quantum spacing?”
Jeshux shrugged, “Whatever you call it.”
Max turned at Candlelite’s dumbfounded expression, “It’s a portal into a parallel universe.” He looked at Jeshux. “A pocket dimension, presumably.”
“It’s entirely self-contained, if that’s what you mean. There is no door into a hallway from that room. Its exit leads here,” Jeshux gestured expansively to the space around them.
Realization dawned and Candlelite said, “Ah, through the looking glass.”
“What?” Jeshux asked.
“Alice in Wonderland,” Max explained.
Before the scientist could begin another lecture Jeshux waved him silent. “Oh. Never mind then. But what’s strange though is that Absinthe should be able to cross back through on her own. Since she hasn’t yet I’d say it’s safe to assume that there’s a lock.” His eyes narrowed and he looked around as he talked. “Generally the lock would be placed on this side to keep people out.” Seeming not to find what he was looking for he walked over to the bed. He grabbed some sheets and began to tear them into shreds. Ignoring the glance the other men exchanged he began to knot the strips together, continuing to explain as he did so. “But since Absinthe got in and obviously can’t get back out again, this painting must be locked to keep something in.”
“What?” Candlelite asked.
“I don’t know,” Jeshux answered as he held up his improvised rope. “Let’s find out.”
“Tanner! Take this!” Jeshux yelled behind him and held out one end of the rope. Tanner grabbed it from him and Jeshux began to knot the other end around his waist. “I need you to be my anchor over here. Understand? No matter what don’t let go.” At the man’s nod of assent Jeshux turned back to Max and Candlelite. “The door’s locked and we don’t have a key, so we’re going to have to pick it.
“The rope?” Max asked.
“The rope,” Jeshux said and stood in front of the painting. “Usually the key is a word or a phrase. In this case we don’t know and we have no way to figure it out so I’m hoping the rope will hold the door open and we can follow it out.”
“Hope?” Candlelite.
“We?” Max.
Jeshux looked over his shoulder and smiled grimly. “Tanner, if we’re not out in half an hour or if an emergency comes up pull me out.”
“Yes sir!” he said.
“Good.” And without another word Jeshux picked up one foot and stepped into the painting.
Max and Candlelite exchanged glances and the younger man said, “What the hell,” he smiled, grabbed the rope and followed Jeshux.
Max muttered something unintelligible and then he too went into the painting.

Jeshux was busy making sure that his rope was secure when Max stepped out of the painting and found himself in the Archmagi’s suite.
“Abbie!” Candlelite called out enthusiastically and Max reminded himself that this was not actually the Archmagi’s suite.
Absinthe sat in a chair in an area of the room that mirrored the library. She had a thick, old looking book on her lap which she looked up from at the sound of Candlelite’s voice.
“Candlelite!” she called out, equally ecstatic and still clenching the book, leapt out of the chair and into his arms.
“Oh thank God you’re all right!” Candlelite hugged her tight. “I don’t know what I would have done if you had been hurt or…”
“Hush,” Absinthe whispered placing a finger to his lips and gently pushing away. Holding the book between them she said, “Look what I found.”
Confident that his knots would hold Jeshux had wandered over. “What’s that?” he asked.
Absinthe smiled triumphantly and held out the book to him, “It’s the Archmagi’s diary.”

The rope worked wonderfully. Back in the comfort and relative safety of the suite Jeshux flipped idly through the diary.
Finally he looked up and said, “Absinthe you did a good job finding this book…”
“Thank you,” the young woman curtsied.
“…despite my warnings not to touch anything.” Her face fell. “Don’t worry. The value of this book makes it worth more than any admonishment I could give you.” Holding the diary up for everyone to see Jeshux spoke up, “This book is the personal diary of the Archmagi Florencii Splendora Ambrosia. Within these covers are over six hundred years of intimate confessions. These confessions detail multiple crimes against not only AnEerth and her people but also against the natural laws that bind them.” His features grew sad and his shoulders sagged slightly. “It’s a damning testimony against a woman that was loved and admired by all.”
“Does it reveal what happened here?” This question came from Tanner, still blood spattered.
Jeshux nodded in confirmation. “Yes it does.”
Everyone stood attentively waiting for him to continue and finally Max spoke impatiently, “Well?”
The Commander General lowered his eyes to the floor and sighed heavily. Without lifting his gaze he said, “The Archmagi is a necromancer.”
While the importance of this revelation was lost on the three earthlings Tanner nodded his head in understanding.
“What exactly does that mean?” Max asked.
“Yeah, so she brought the dead back to life?” Candlelite inquired.
“I’m afraid it’s much worse than that my young friend,” Jeshux said and lifted his head to return the others gaze. Candlelite read sorrow and pain in the old warrior’s eyes, also a touch of disappointment and maybe betrayal.
“Oh you poor dear,” Absinthe murmured as she surprised him with a hug. “She was your friend, wasn’t she?”
“Yes,” Jeshux said quietly and gently pushed her away.
“So what did she do?” Max prompted.
Jeshux opened his mouth to answer when one of the sentries that had been left posted down in the antechamber stumbled through the door. He was battered and bloodstained with one arm dangling uselessly. He had lost his rifle but he clutched a pistol tightly in his good hand. It took him a moment to catch his breath before he could speak.
Still panting the merc managed to sputter, “You need to come quick. They're all dead.”


Careful to keep close to the buildings along the right side of the avenue Sefu crept carefully towards the guild hall. The silence was almost tangible, a thick blanket that lay over the Citadel and threatened to smother any who dared to disturb it.
The guild hall loomed hugely in front of her and dwarfed the surrounding buildings with its awesomeness. As the assassin got closer she could see the crumpled forms of mercenaries at the top of the steps. Blood was everywhere. At the foot of the massive staircase, lying on one ear was the decapitated head of the other merc that had been guarding her. She smiled cruelly at the grimace of horror on its face and involuntarily glanced behind her. The street was clear but when she turned back there were what appeared to be mages hunched over the dead mercenaries on the landing. It was hard to tell exactly what they were doing but she hoped it was not what it looked like. Even a blood thirsty assassin could stand only so much atrocity.
Unfortunately they were doing exactly what it looked like and the gruesome meal was interrupted by Jeshux timely return. He and the others came out blazing and Sefu quickly ducked into a doorway.
Peeking around the jamb she was just in time to see two mages flee from the gunfire faster than what should have been possible. The others that had been feasting were now sprawled about with the remains of their meal.
Staying within the concealment of the doorway the assassin checked her weapons before shouting out, “Jeshux! What the hell is going on here?”


Jeshux did not hesitate at the wounded soldier’s sudden appearance but immediately jumped into action. He ordered Tanner to tend the man’s wounds and waved the others to follow him out the doors and down the hall.
He only stopped once, after he rounded the first corner.
“What happened to the bodies!” he exclaimed.
The corpses of both the apprentice and Hunter were gone. Only broken glass, blood, and a bit of cloth remained to show that something had happened in the hallway.
“What bodies?” The wounded soldier, refusing medical attention had followed the others, having to brush off the attempted administrations of Tanner as they ran.
“There were two bodies, here and here,” Jeshux indicated the two bloody spots on the floor.
“They weren’t there when I came up, sir,” the mercenary informed him.
“Damn!” Jeshux cursed and resumed his breakneck pace through the guild hall.
They met little resistance as they sped through the halls. They were only attacked twice by small groups of three or four zombies. Pausing just long enough to put the creatures down before continuing on their way it took barely half the time to reach the front landing that it took to rise to the suite.
The sight that greeted their arrival made Jeshux blood run cold and with his rifle blazing he hit the landing closely followed by Candlelite and Absinthe, then the others. Soon the perverted mages were lying on the ground among deceased mercenaries with only two managing to flee beyond the reach of their vengeance.
Although he stood stiff with fear and rage Jeshux was still able to marvel at the way Absinthe had handled herself in battle. No doubt her ferocity was born from her predatory nature but regardless, he thought it good that Candlelite was an honest man.
From somewhere out in the street a voice called out, “Jeshux! What the hell is going on here?”
He recognized that voice and motioned everyone to cover before he called out, “How did you get free Sefu?”
The assassin chuckled, “It seems your men are too curious for their own good.”
“We should have killed her when we had our chance,” Candlelite growled ruthlessly.
“I agree,” Absinthe was just as cold.
“Perhaps,” Jeshux conceded and then caught movement from further down the street. “Maybe we won’t have to.”
Far down the street, starting at about the invisible barrier that had so disturbed their horses, dozens of brown robed forms were flitting from shadow to shadow, doorway to alleyway, and silently as a feather fell they grew closer and closer to where the assassin was concealed.
“Hey Sefu!” Candlelite called.
“Hello pup,” Sefu answered scornfully. “What do you want?”
“Maybe you should look behind you,” Candlelite advised.
Sefu turned within the confines of the doorway in which she was concealed and cursed under her breath when she saw the quick and stealthy progress of the demons sneaking up on her.
“Ho, ho assassin, it looks like you’re in a dilly of a pickle!” Max yelled before swigging off his flask. The old scientist could not help but get a jibe in and chuckled at his own wit.
“Curse you, you withered idiot!” Sefu screamed. She did not understand the scientist’s slang but the meaning was still conveyed clearly.
Max laughed again and Jeshux told her, “It looks like you’ve got two options Sefu, either you can surrender to us peacefully or…,” he paused for dramatic effect. “You can die rather unpleasantly.”
Candlelite and Absinthe both smiled evilly at the unintelligible curses that came from the assassin’s direction and Candlelite insisted that they abandon her to the undead.
“Yeah, and good riddance!” Absinthe added.
But if it was unavoidable then Jeshux would not allow it and it only took twenty seconds or so before Sefu saw the light.
“All right Jeshux, I’ll surrender!” Sefu cried. The inhuman beings would soon be right on top of her. “But I’ll not be bound and gagged while threatened by those things.”
“I don’t think I can allow that!” Jeshux replied. By now the zombies had grown to more than a hundred and more were joining their ranks.
“Damnit commander, I can help you!” Sefu pleaded.
“No doubt by putting a knife in my back and slitting the throats of my companions, eh assassin?”
“You have my word! None of you people will come to harm by my hand!” Sefu sounded on the verge of tears. Her terror was driving her to emotion that she had not felt in years. “And afterward you can bind me again,” she added.
“You people,” Absinthe said sarcastically.
“She’s telling the truth,” Candlelite told Jeshux when the soldier looked to him. “But do you think we can trust her?”
“Only about as far as I can throw her,” Jeshux told him. “All right Sefu! I suggest you start running pretty damned quick. We’ll cover you.”
The assassin wasted no time in breaking her cover. She fired a few rounds at the nearest of the creatures and sprinted to the stairs. A salvo of gunfire blazed over her head. The horde behind her took up an inhuman cry of rage and frustration and moved even quicker to bring her down.
“Hurry up Sefu!” Jeshux ordered as she hit the bottom step.
“Yeah, get your ass in gear!” Candlelite added.
The undead moved twice as fast and were right behind her. Sefu could hear them hot on her heels and did not dare to look back as she took the stairs two at a time.
“Woo hoo!” Max cried. “These bastards ain’t your gran’ daddy’s undead!” Cackling he strafed his rifle from left to right, the weapon looking far too large for his spindly arm to even hold level.
Sefu reached the landing bare steps ahead of the advancing army and joined Jeshux and the others as they fell back through the front doors of the guild hall. They managed to shut the doors just as the first zombie reached them, smashing in its teeth and breaking its nose. Even through the thickness of the doors they could make out the creatures cries of frustration at being denied its prey.


The palace and, surprisingly enough, a good portion of the city still stood although the countryside for most of five hundred miles on all sides had been transformed into a barren wasteland, devoid of any distinctive features and reduced to nothing but naked soil. Houses, roads, trees, even low hills had been completely disintegrated in the backwash of the arcane energy bomb’s detonation. Not a living thing survived the massive explosion and most inanimate objects over the size of a bowling ball ceased to exist. The awesome power that Harmony had harnessed in his ultimate weapon failed to discriminate.
The sorcerer however was not impressed. Having been witness to the entire beautiful symphony of mayhem through a large and powerful pair of magnifiers equipped with filters to screen out the blinding glare, he had seen immediately that the palace still stood and was infuriated at the audacity Zakeriah displayed in not succumbing to his onslaught.
Harmony put the magnifiers down on a table at his side before the intense light had begun to subside and enraged, the sorcerer ordered his army into a forward march. He was determined to press his assault as quickly as possible so as not to allow his enemy any chance to recover.
As night fell to the light of a waxing moon rank after rank of sick and twisted creatures, and humans, poured down the side of the mountains to the freshly scoured, recently created flatland below.


The city had survived but McAriicoys heart had been shattered.
Sitting in the small cell provided by the city barracks, the room that just the day before had been so cozy, the military man was lost in a sea of grief so deep that it easily threatened to drown him. He ignored all summons, indeed the door was locked and despite the pounding and the raised voices as far as he was concerned the world was as quiet as the grave. In fact he wished it was the grave, his grave.
Instead though the grave belonged to a hero, a petite little blonde hero, a hero chock full of grit and with enough attitude to take on the world, a person would have thought she would win too. She almost had. Just three more seconds and Pentooli would still be alive.
McAriicoys put his head in his hands, tears squeezing from his eyes, as he rocked back and forth on the thin mattress of the bunk.
Someone came to the door again, pounding, demanding to be let in, pleading to be let in, McAriicoys heard none of it and eventually they went away. The only things that intruded upon his world now were sweet smiles, musical laughter, and a shared cup of coffee. Little things of the last twenty-four hours flitted through his weary brain and memories of the not so recent past, harsh demeanor, quick wit, a stinging tongue, icy stares but confidence too, and confidence was what this coldness had always conveyed to him. Where others had always seen aloofness and anti-social tendencies McAriicoys had always witnessed passion and self-confidence, a drive towards success that was not to be distracted by such petty sentimentalities as friendship or, heaven forbid it, love.
But for some reason this fiery woman had been attracted to him, had allowed him through some formerly secret chink in her impenetrable armor to the soft, lovable and fiercely tender person inside. Why? WHY?
McAriicoys let out a heart wrenching sob and suddenly climbed to his feet. He got dressed quickly, grabbing his armor and weapons he strapped everything in place with the mechanical precision of a soldier with not decades but centuries of practice.
Pentooli had died a hero. She had not died in vain. If it had not been for her the city would have been completely destroyed and countless more lives would have been lost. The wizards and techs had had trouble generating enough power to boost the shield much further than the palace; Pentooli came up with a solution. Unfortunately it was entirely in her head and she had to oversee its implementation personally. So she went out along the city wall to reprogram a connecting rod in the shield perimeter. Everyone was tense with expectation, they could sense the inevitable. The shield had shimmered into existence and the city raised a cheer.
Three seconds later the arcane energy bomb detonated.
Three seconds! McAriicoys slammed his sword home in its scabbard.
Three seconds more and Pentooli would have been within the protective perimeter of the shield.
McAriicoys swallowed his grief down into a hard ball in the pit of his stomach. A grim determination replaced the look of anguish that he had been wearing for the past fifteen hours. Pentooli may not have died in vain but her death would still be avenged. Harmony would be made to pay.
McAriicoys had no need to straighten the barracks room as his grief had not allowed him the luxury of either food or rest. Placing his beret on his head he gave his surroundings a cursory once over, noted he had forgot nothing, and then with one last lingering look at the chair that Pen had sat in while she had sipped her coffee he turned, unlocked the door and strode from the room.
The captain of the guard was kept busy running around like a chicken with its head cut off since the detonation of the arcane energy bomb but he had left an aid in his place outside McAriicoys door to wait for the mercenary to emerge.
“Sir!” the young man saluted, obviously impressed by the mercs battle ready attire.
“At ease,” McAriicoys growled. “What’s your name son?”
“Private Pleanar,” Pleanar failed to relax.
“This isn’t boot camp private. I said at ease!”
Private Pleanar visibly tried but he was wound pretty tight. The young man was clearly in awe of the veteran soldier and being pretty raw, was uncertain about how he should conduct himself in the presence of such a celebrity.
McAriicoys sighed at the youth’s enthusiasm. “All right Pleanar, this is what I want you to do.”
“Yes, sir!” the private came fully to attention.
McAriicoys sighed again. “Two things,” he said. “Number one, send word to the King, tell him I’m on my way to the palace and I need an audience with him. Number two, get my men together and tell them to meet me in the palace courtyard within the hour. Got that?”
“Yes sir!” Pleanar saluted smartly and then failed to move.
“I mean now Pleanar!” McAriicoys barked.
Private Pleanar grinned goofily from ear to ear before he ran off, stumbling as he gained momentum.
Kids! McAriicoys thought. But he felt a lot better ordering the youngling off and a familiar calm settled in as he followed the retreating back of the young guardsman down the hall. It was good to have a plan, to be in charge again and he allowed himself a grim smile.
Once out in the open air McAriicoys looked towards the blue sky and marveled at the opaque barrier that shimmered like a mirage over the capital, Pentooli’s legacy. He pushed the thought aside not wanting to be overcome by the despair he had so recently conquered.
He contemplated finding a horse but after observing the human congestion in the streets he decided against it, figuring that he would make better time to the palace on foot. The right decision as the traffic of people got worse the closer he got.
Upon reaching the palace gates McAriicoys was pleased to note that the young private had done well. A member of the royal guard was waiting and informed him that the King would see him and also that his men were already starting to arrive.
As he crossed the courtyard McAriicoys returned the salutes that were directed towards him by the handful of mercenaries already assembled.

King Zakeriah sat in the great assembly hall on his throne looking weary in his resplendent robes and silks. He had taken off his crown and it sat on his lap while he rubbed his temples with both hands. Queen Mega’N sat beside him, perfectly composed, and she rose smoothly upon noticing McAriicoys arrival.
“Mr. McAriicoys,” the Queen purred. “Good of you to join us.”
Missing was the Queen’s usual sarcasm. She was actually pleased to see the grizzled warrior and the sideways look she cast in the King’s direction told him why. The King looked especially haggard around the eyes when he looked up from his lap.
The Queen might be a vicious woman with a reputation for having a wicked tongue, McAriicoys thought. But she truly loves Zakeriah. Although from the look in her eyes McAriicoys surmised that the Queen was nearly as weary as the King.
“McAriicoys,” Zakeriah exclaimed. “I am glad to see you!” He stood and clamped his crown back on his head.
McAriicoys approached the throne and kneeled. He looked up at the King and said, “We need to talk.”

Within a half an hour McAriicoys was back in the courtyard where the mercenaries waited idly after receiving his summons. He approached the many clusters of mercenaries that milled around and talked amongst themselves.
The mercenaries noticed McAriicoys and assembled quickly to stand tall and proud, rank after rank, nearly fifty thousand strong. He saluted his men and bellowed, “At ease!”
Now this is how men should stand, he thought.
McAriicoys smile suddenly grew broader and he pushed himself into the ranks until he found himself face to face with a soldier of about his own size. Clasping hands to wrists with the other man he cried, “Vohrmint, you old war dog! When did you get here?”
“Good morning McAriicoys. My men and I arrived yesterday afternoon not long before that damned arcane energy bomb went off.”
“Good, good. I’m glad you made it.”
“Aye, we nearly didn’t,” Vohrmint muttered.
“How did thing’s at the monastery turn out?”
Vohrmint frowned. “Not well, I’m afraid. The monastery’s gone.”
“And the monks?” McAriicoys asked.
“They’re safe. We dropped them off at the Celestine Temple this morning. Jin sends his regards.”
McAriicoys smiled at the mention of the garrulous old man. “The priestesses at the temple are going to have their hands full housing those horny bastards.” The two men laughed. “Well we’re glad to have you back,” McAriicoys said before he shook Vohrmint’s hand again and returned to the head of the assembly.
“All right listen up!” McAriicoys laced his fingers behind his back and began pacing back and forth. “First I need volunteers, five groups of five. The men who step forward are going to be sent out as emissaries of the crown. Royal recruiters, if you will. Each of you will be sent to one of five of the six major provinces. You’ll be escorting a royal ambassador and your mission will be to ensure the safe arrivals of said ambassadors. This is extremely important as Harmony’s army is currently on the march for the capital and is estimated at around twenty times the fighting numbers stationed here. These ambassadors are vital as their jobs are to enlist the aid of the armies and the support of the thaumaturgical societies local to these areas. You will be teleported, for speed and convenience, as close to your destinations as is magically possible, from where you will be required to make arraignments to continue on your own as necessary. These meetings were already put into motion by the Commander General who, with his usual foresight, predicted the need for these reinforcements, ” McAriicoys stopped pacing and his voice went silent.
Although every man there was eager to render their services for such esteemed missions, the mercenaries had a very well honed and humble sense of not only their own abilities but those of their fellow soldiers, and so with only a minimum of low murmuring exactly twenty- five men finally stepped forward.
McAriicoys was pleased at the efficiency with which the troops operated and he smiled broadly. “Great!” he said and indicated a member of the royal guard from where he was standing discreetly to one side before he continued, “You will be leaving A-sap! Please follow this gentleman. He will take you to meet the ambassadors where you will be briefed in more detail. Good luck!”
The twenty-five men followed the guard into the palace and McAriicoys began to pace again. “As for the rest of you, one hundred of you will be accompanying me into the field. I have spoken with the King and he and I both agree that it is time to reunite with Commander General Jeshux and the Chosen Ones!” He waited for the short burst of cheering to die down before he continued. “The King’s magicians were able to tell me that they are currently headed on a course that shall lead them into Gonderlund. It is our opinion that the Commander General is headed for Gontiluna to try and enlist the help of the Archmagi Florencii and her mages. Although the Archmagi has a strong reputation for steering well clear of anything political affiliation the Commander General is a close friend of hers, if anyone can sway her decision in our favor it’s him.” There was another short cheer from the mercenaries. “We will be supplied with horses but we only get one shot at this as our window of opportunity is narrow. This is due to the fact that magical support to the shields takes precedence and really no one can be spared to teleport a group of our size.” McAriicoys stopped and raised his hands at the mumbling that rippled through the mercenaries. “No matter, the king has agreed that our mission may be significant to our survival,” he told them. “We will be leaving in just under two hours from now and it is estimated that at a hard pace we should reach Gontiluna not much behind the others.”
More mumbling and murmuring erupted and McAriicoys shouted, “Ok! I know that everyone is eager to get some action outside the city gates but only half of you will be coming on this mission while the other half are going to stay here and lend support to the defense of the city. You all know the size of the army that Harmony has amassed and you all know that it won’t be long before that madman has it camped outside these walls! I expect every one of you to give it your all! When you return to your bunks you’ll find your assignments. Those who are staying are to report to the Imperial Guard for detail. Those who are coming with me are to meet outside the south gate, Dismissed!”
McAriicoys waited and watched with a combative lust in his eyes while the massive assembly of mercenaries slowly trickled from the courtyard and he smiled with pleasure at thoughts of the battles to come.
Vohrmint disengaged himself from the crowd that milled around him and approached his superior officer.
“I don’t suppose you would let me volunteer myself outright for the away team?” he asked McAriicoys.
“You’re on the list,” McAriicoys smiled.
Vohrmint returned the smile with a toothy one of his own and said, “Well I guess I had better get ready then!”


Dusk crept in and spread long shadows across the Citadel of Gontiluna, with full dark close on its heels. Almost two weeks had passed since the mercenaries had left the capital and, unbeknownst to Jeshux and his small group huddled in the safety of the guilds entrance hallway, McAriicoys was leading a small group of a hundred men through the streets of the Citadel at that very moment.
Inside the hallway voices were tense and two topics of discussion were being fiercely debated. Topic one was about the coming night and Candlelite and Absinthe’s inevitable transformation. Over the past couple weeks, for some the past couple months, everyone had become more or less comfortable with the pair in their bestial forms. Usually, with the coming of night, they would slip off together and suffer the agony of metamorphosis in private, sparing the others the horror of being witness to the unnatural act. Tonight it was not looking as if they would be allowed the luxury of privacy, which led directly to the second topic.
“Look this hallway’s pretty big but within, maybe half an hour, it’s going to seem pretty cramped,” Candlelite said. “I mean Abbie alone will take up half of it and at that point she’ll only be able to retreat out. Those inner doors’ll be way too small to accommodate her.”
“You’re right, of course,” Jeshux conceded. “So do we head into the antechamber, forced to stay the night and cornered in the event of an attack or do we go outside press an attack of our own and hope for the best?”
“Are they still out there?” Absinthe asked.
“I haven’t heard anything for a while,” Max stood at the door and listened. He took a chance and cracked the door only to close it hastily as he heard an evil hiss and then a thump against the other side. “Whoa! Yeah they’re still out there,” he said.
“Max,” Jeshux glared at the little man. “Don’t do that again!”
Max pulled out his flask and raised it to his lips only to lower it again, a look of disgust on his face as he tipped it upside down and only a couple of drops dribbled out. “Anyone got a drink?” he asked hopefully. Everyone looked at him like he was crazy and he shook his head. “No? I didn’t think so.”
“Can we get back to the point here?” Candlelite asked. “We’re running out of time.”
“I agree,” Jeshux stated dryly.
“I think we should wait for dark and then go for it,” Absinthe’s voice was a little husky and a faint gleam had come into her eyes. No one seemed to notice but Candlelite looked at her strangely. “Me and Candlelite can leave first and clear a path for the rest of you.”
Candlelite started to sweat a little. It was close to full dark he could feel it in his bones, in his brain. He started to say something but found that he could not speak.
“I vote for retreat,” Sefu interjected from where she sat in the shadows of a corner.
Jeshux glared at her, “I didn’t realize you were such a coward, Sefu.” The sarcasm dripped like venom from his words.
The assassin made an obscene gesture at the mercenary commander but otherwise stayed quiet and sullen in her corner.
“I agree,” Max said calmly. He had stepped away from the door to stand next to Candlelite. “I say we retreat into the antechamber and wait for dawn. It’s a good chance that the zombies will wander off sometime during the night. After all they weren’t anywhere to be found when we first got here.”
“Max!” Absinthe said loudly. Her voice had gone even huskier but still no one seemed to notice. “I can’t believe you!”
“What?” Max raised his hands defensively.
Candlelite meanwhile had stepped back from the conversation. The young man sweated freely now, his nearly shoulder length hair hung lankly around his face. He again tried to say something, anything to alert his companions to his plight, but still he could not make a sound. His teeth were clenched and his eyes, blood red with the pupils dilated beyond the boundaries of his irises, bulged from their sockets. His hands opened and closed spasmodically. Candlelite noticed his fingernails had become long talons. The young man dropped to his knees.
“Uunnn!” he finally gasped.
Jeshux whipped his head in Candlelite’s direction. “Damnit!” he exclaimed. “I think our decision’s just been made for us.”
“Candlelite,” Absinthe called throatily and took a step towards her lover. “Ahhh!” she cried suddenly and fell to her knees and forearms with her forehead rested on the floor. The young woman began to convulse wildly and her clothing began to bulge as if huge boils were breaking out all over her body. She threw back her head and twisted her neck at a strange angle to the accompaniment of loud cracking and sick pops. Her eyes shone black as obsidian.
“Everyone get back!” Jeshux yelled and motioned everyone toward the antechamber, unable to tear his gaze from the disturbing spectacle before him.
Candlelite howled deeply and the sound reverberated throughout the hall. His back had hunched. He dropped his shoulders and pushed his head out in front of him. Ears elongated; cheeks, nose, and jaws stretched out away from his face and his already pointed canines grew longer and decidedly more wicked, he rest of his teeth fell out as the blunted grinders of an omnivore were supplanted by the slashing ripping daggers of a carnivorous hunter. He howled again.
Although intellectually knowing that these twisted creatures were still their friends and that they would come to no harm the primal instinct of their ancestors took hold and the group of men shrank closer to the doors at their backs. They were terrified by the horror in front of them yet incapable of looking away. Even Sefu, witness to and even perpetuator of countless unspeakable acts, could hardly stand the sights before her and was helpless to advert her gaze.
A low and terrible rumble began deep in Absinthe throat. It began softly at first until it grew to match the cacophony of Candlelite’s howls, a sound completely out of proportion to the still relative smallness of her body. But then as if triggered by her growls her body began to swell and expand and her clothes ripped as brown expanses of fur covered flesh broke free. Her legs and feet grew and reshaped themselves as she sloughed off her pants and boots to reveal more coarse brown fur. The same was happening to her arms and her hands stretched sickly until they were massive paws with wicked claws that matched the ones that had sprouted from her feet. All of this change was accompanied by the crunching and grating of her shifting bone structure as it reconfigured, and her muscles stretched and bulged wildly with wet sucking and popping sounds as they stretched to accommodate her growing mass. Soon the woman-bear-thing had grown so large that she was entirely blocking any view of the similar transformation being experienced by Candlelite.
Finally the huge bear turned and stared at the frightened bunch of humans, her head brushed the high ceiling of the hallway as she rose to her hind legs and roared.
Everyone clapped their hands over their ears.
“Damnit Absinthe!” Jeshux hollered back as he regained his courage. “Not so loud! I can barely hear as it is.”
Abashedly the big grizzly dropped back down on all fours and settled on her haunches.
Transformed Candlelite was by far the most horrible of the pair. While Absinthe more or less attained the size and shape of a grizzly bear the young man became a salivating monster. Stepping from behind Absinthe’s hulking form he stood erect like a man but unlike a man he was covered with silver streaked blue-gray fur with bits of his natural blonde interspersed throughout. He had grown in height by over two heads which put him from just shy of six feet to well over eight. His musculature had also expanded exponentially. As a man he was very fit and trim but now he was a raging hulk whose body rippled sinuously as he moved. His shoulders and arms were massive, leading to large long fingered hands tipped with scimitar sharp talons. His chest heaved mightily with every breath and his legs, backward at the knees, were heavily corded running machines that ended in huge paws that were also equipped with razor sharp claws. His head was like that of a timber wolf, lean, viscous with yellowed fangs dripping saliva under a wet black nose. Long, fur tufted ears twitched excitedly as they tested the air for every sound and his eyes were blood red with jet black pupils that were darker than any black hole.
The salivating werewolf walked over to Jeshux. He looked the mercenary commander dead in the eye, raised one hooked talon, and used it to carve the fine finish of the wood inlaid wall. “Sorry about that. So what’s next?” the scratching read.


McAriicoys rode at the head of the column. His horse plodded along, head down, pace steady. The animal gave no indication that the misgivings the mercenary had were founded on anything but fantasy. Just because the population of the entire province of Gonderlund seemed to have mysteriously vanished was no reason to fear that something was wrong, nope.
McAriicoys had sent scouts ahead as soon as they had reached the city limits. None of them had returned so he had ordered the bulk of the army to stay put while he personally led a small force of a hundred men into Gontiluna. The mercenaries were seven miles into the city, less than a mile from the Citadel, one of his scouts should have returned to report by now, and the fact that none of them had, now that was cause for worry.
The grizzled war veteran kept his eyes open and his ears alert and halted his small army at the Citadel gates. McAriicoys dismounted from his horse and signaled one of the men forward to investigate the guard house.
“I found these,” the merc said upon returning. He held up the cut remains of some stout rope. It was the same rope as that carried by the mercenaries. “There were no signs of struggle.”
McAriicoys grunted noncommittally and stared through the open portal of the Citadel while he tried to decipher the secrets that might wait at the end of that long avenue.
The stillness of the late afternoon was absolute, not a sound disturbed the silence. The sun was soon to set, already it dipped low on the horizon and the temperature was cooler by a few degrees. Summer was a bit long in the tooth and in these latitudes it would not only be the nights that would get cooler.
The faint screeching sound reach McAriicoys ears at the same time someone called out the warning, “Vampires!” McAriicoys turned to look and followed the pointed finger of the one who had called out. His gaze lit upon the dark mass of flitting forms that advanced through the sky. They were coming on quick and at the rate they were moving would be on top of the mercs in a matter of minutes.
“On your horses,” McAriicoys shouted as he swung into his saddle. “Everyone to the guild hall now!” He spurred his horse forward with a couple well placed kicks from his heels and headed into the Citadel.
The mercenaries raced through the gates and down the street, the hooves of their horses flying.
The vampires spotted their attempt at escape and flew in faster. Wings flapped ferociously as the huge bat-like predators closed the distance with remarkable speed, soaring over the Citadel walls and screeching with excitement for the hunt.
Without warning the horses went ballistic. Whinnying and snorting the ones in the front stopped and reared which caused the ones behind to stumble. Some went down on impact and threw their riders. At least two mercenaries were crushed to death immediately as chaos ensued.
When McAriicoys horse reared it was slammed into from behind and fell sideways. He sprang from the saddle before it hit the ground and crushed him. He landed on both feet at a run and immediately began to fire his rifle into the air to provide cover for his foundering men.
“Dismount!” he shouted. “Leave the horses!”
The men who were not already on the ground quickly gained enough control of their steeds to get off of them without being trampled and followed their comrades in a mad dash down the wide street.
Although they quickly fired bursts over their shoulders with their rifles and dropped vampires from the sky by the dozens, the mercs were still assaulted mercilessly as every vampire that fell was instantly replaced by two more. Men were slaughtered left and right as they literally ran towards the guild hall for their lives.
“Calvary!” an anonymous voice cried as mounted goblins stormed through the Citadel gates closely followed by dozens of werewolves. The knowledge that they did not stand a snowballs chance in hell against werewolves afoot spurred the soldiers into an even faster retreat.
McAriicoys was ahead of everybody and was the first to spot the guild hall. He was also the first to notice that they ran from one fight only to head right into another one. What appeared to be a werewolf and some kind of bear were raging up and down the stairs in front of the guild. They were surrounded by scores of brown robed men and women who attacked them fearlessly, apparently unconcerned by the sharp claws and huge paws that the beasts utilized in their defense. Gunfire came from the top of the stairs and cut the brown robes down left and right. Some of them would not fall though and of the ones that did, not all of them stayed down. He heard a familiar voice cut through the din of all of the mayhem and McAriicoys yelled as loud as his already overworked lung would allow him to. “Je-shu-ux!”
The Commander General must have heard him because the gunfire coming from the top of the stairs switched from providing cover for the two on the stairs to cutting down the creatures both above and behind the fleeing mercenaries.
The two animals also heard McAriicoys beleaguered shout and stormed down the stairs flinging and throwing robed people out of the way as they came.
It had become fully dark as the mercenaries first made their way down the wide boulevard.
Although he had never seen Candlelite as a werewolf and only seen the two of them together briefly, McAriicoys knew that these two creatures were allies.
“It’s the Chosen Ones!” he bellowed to ensure that none of his men fired on them inadvertently.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs just as the mercenaries did werewolf and bear turned and again began to attack the brown robes. They kept the frenzied people at bay which allowed the mercenaries the reprieve they needed to make it to the top mostly unscathed.
Although they warily eyed the two animals as they tore apart what were, for the most part, seemingly normal looking people the mercenaries still did not hesitate to add their own efforts to the death toll. They were not stupid people and they could tell by their dismemberment and their invulnerability that the brown robes were far from normal.
They were halfway up the stairs when the werewolves joined the fray. Upon catching sight of their prey the blood thirsty brutes had bayed loudly and outpaced both mounted humans and goblins alike to quickly catch up with the mercenaries.
Unlike the horses for some reason the werewolves were unaffected by the strange barrier that had drove the equines crazy, however the steeds of their fellows encountered the strange resistance. The mounted enemy force was also forced to pursue the mercenaries on foot and this caused them to join the now three sided battle a few minutes after their lupine cohorts.
This entire time the endless screeching and swooping of the vampires continued, abated only as the mercenaries reached the landing in front of the guild entrance were able to seek cover to begin a more organized defense. Finally the winged monsters were forced into a partial retreat and flew just out of range of the mercenary weapons.
As more mercenaries reached the top of the stairs they were ushered into the guild hall by Max and Sefu who stood to either side of the massive entrance.
Once everyone was inside, with McAriicoys firing indiscriminately at both brown robes and Harmony’s forces, Jeshux signaled the two untiring behemoths to retreat.
Smashing and clawing their way courageously back up the stairs the Chosen Ones probably would have been killed right then and there if not for the tremendous barrage of gunfire supplied by the hundred or so men that awaited them at the top.
With much effort and no little amount of blood, the two fought their way to the landing and with the rest of their companions made it inside the guild hall.


“Well, Absinthe is definitely too big to make it any further into the guild,” Jeshux said after he read what Candlelite had scratched onto the wall. “So I guess, unless you want to wait out the night crammed in this hallway, our only option is to fight our way through the Zombies,” the word was unfamiliar on his lips. “get the horses and ride like hell.”
Both Candlelite and Absinthe rumbled their assent at this suggestion and moved their large heads up and down as they did so.
Jeshux looked to Max and Sefu. The scientist just raised his eyebrows and the assassin shrugged her shoulders, frowning unhappily. Tanner, of course, said and did nothing. He would follow his leader through the gates of hell if that was where he was going.
“It’s settled then,” Jeshux said. “We’re going to take the initiative and press the attack.” He rubbed his hands together. “Ok, this is what I want to do. Candlelite, you and Absinthe are going to lead the assault. You two go out first. We need you to clear the landing so that the rest of us can take position and lay down cover fire. After that I want you and Abbie to begin making your way down the stairs. Clear the way so that Sefu, Max, Tanner, and I can follow safely. After that you can provide cover for our rear.” Jeshux face became grave. “Now once we reach the street I want everyone to run like hell. The faster we reach the horses the faster we can get out of here to safety.” He turned to Tanner and Max. “After we get to the stables I need the two of you to go in and grab the horses. Sefu and I will help Absinthe and Candlelite keep the exit clear, grab the horses and then we can all ride the hell out of here. Understood?” Everyone nodded affirmatively.
“Are there any questions?” No one said anything.
“Alright then,” Jeshux shouldered his rifle and everyone else did the same. “No time like the present.”
Candlelite did not waste any time. He went straight to the doors and threw them open. With an ear shattering howl the massive werewolf hurdled through the portal right into a pack of the undead. Absinthe was right behind him. On all fours the bellowing she-bear bowled through the crowd, knocking the former mages flat and tearing through them with her nine inch claws. Between the two of them and the suddenness of their attack the landing was clear in a manner of seconds.
They started down the stairs.
As soon as the landing was clear Jeshux and the others rushed out to take up positions behind the pillars, shooting hot plasma as they went.
While the travelers had been holed up inside the hallway trying to decide what to do more of the zombies had congregated outside the guild hall. At the appearance of their quarry the creatures began to swarm up the stairs, eager to satisfy the lust for living flesh that had become their sole reason for existence. More and more of these twisted beings began to come out of the woodworks; from open doorways, alleys, and side streets they swarmed. They were drawn by the sounds of fighting and were furious at being left out of the fun of another supposedly easy meal. They were fast too, some of them so fast that while they appeared to move with little effort they still traveled almost too fast for the eye to follow.
Even with the aid of their allies Candlelite and Absinthe were hard pressed to keep the stairs clear enough for the others to follow them down. Bodies and pieces of bodies were strewn about all over the place like the abandoned toys of a petulant child. The two behemoths battled back and forth oblivious to the gore they splattered and the jellied remains that they trampled underfoot.
Jeshux began to wonder how they would ever win through and he kept an eye on the stairs in the hope of spotting an opening for advancement. It was about this time, as he directed the gunfire of his companions, that he dimly heard a shout from down the street.
“Je-shu-ux!”
Jeshux looked up from the stairs and was surprised to see what appeared to be his entire army being led by McAriicoys and fleeing a swarm of vampires.
“Reinforcements!” he shouted. “Give them cover!”
Reorienting themselves and redirecting their gunfire from the zombies to the vampires Sefu, Max and Tanner began to cut the flying vermin out of the sky by the dozens. Unfortunately there seemed to be no end to the flying horde that pursued their comrades.
The fleeing mercenaries drew closer as the battle on the stairs raged on, however Candlelite and Absinthe had both heard McAriicoys yell and wasted no time in pulling away from the Zombies to aid the approaching army. They flung brown robes in every direction as they battered their way down the stairs.
“It’s the Chosen Ones!” McAriicoys called out. He was dressed in full battle armor and wielded his plasma rifle like a wild man.
Just as the bestial couple reached the bottom of the stairs so did the mercenaries. Turning back to the horde of brown robed beings that had trailed after them down the stairs the werewolf and she-bear again began to tear into the hungry creatures. Although unsure because of their saviors wild appearances the mercenaries never hesitated in turning their weapons on this new menace and were quickly able to clear a path up the stairs.
Halfway up a pack of werewolves of the true variety joined the ascending fight.
Jeshux had seen the slobbering beasts hot on McAriicoys heels, running far ahead of a slower approaching group of goblins and humans, and a trail of them littered the street. Harmony! He thought as he shouted orders from on top of the landing as they continued to fire upon their enemies in what was now a three sided battle.
Not discriminating mercenaries from werewolves the brown robed zombies were attacking anyone who came within reach. Although most of them were in a distinct state of disrepair, with one or more limbs missing, eyes tore out or entrails trailing along as they moved about, none of these grievous injuries seemed to impair them in the least and some of them had even started to feast upon the fallen.
It did not take long for the rest of the humans and goblins to reach the stairs and that was when the three way battle began in earnest.
Candlelite and Absinthe were hard pressed to keep the stairs clear. Even with their friends on the landing and the mercenaries in their midst the odds were overwhelmingly against them.
The werewolves were by far their most fearsome opponents. Although the generic breeds were smaller than Candlelite and endowed with only above average intelligence for a canine or lupine animal they were still extremely strong and possessed a malicious capacity for inflicting pain and terror. Rampaging about the stairs the vicious animals tore through mercenaries and zombies alike with equal zeal.
On the other hand the zombies were the second most fierce of their enemies. Imbued with superhuman strength, speed and extremely hard if not nearly impossible to kill, they also had a seemingly insurmountable advantage in numbers. No matter their abnormal abilities, despite the fact that some of them did go down or paused to gorge on fresh flesh, the fact was that they just kept on coming from throughout the entire area and more appeared to converge on the stairs.
Candlelite heard Absinthe bellow in pain and rage and turned to see two werewolves on her back, slashing her with their great claws. She could not do anything to dislodge them either. Rising on her hind legs and thrashing about wildly the stubborn monsters continued to hold fast and the great bear was forced to drop back to all fours to confront a handful of goblins that were approaching menacingly with their gobline scimitars.
Rushing towards his besieged lover as she swept aside two goblins with one tremendous swipe of her paw Candlelite leapt through the air, tackling the two werewolves from her back and bore them to the ground. Landing with a thud and a crack one of the werewolves broke its back on one of the large risers while the other managed to roll free as Candlelite jumped to his feet. Facing off with each other the werewolf was dwarfed by the shape shifter by at least a foot and a half. Fearless in the face of the larger werewolf the snarling beast advanced. Candlelite calmly stood his ground and waited for his opportunity to strike. The only outward sign of his impatience was the steady clenching and unclenching of his claws.
Tensing his legs muscles in preparation to spring Candlelite’s eyes narrowed and his lips drew back from his fangs. Saliva dripped from his jaws and then the other werewolf made its move only to be impacted in mid-attack from the side by Absinthe. The hulking bear crushed the werewolf into the stairs and sank her massive jaws into its neck and tore out its throat with a great gush of blood.
The she-bear painted a gruesome picture, blood spattered and gray haired flesh hanging from her jaws, but at that moment Candlelite saw her with jaded eyes and he could not have loved her more.
There was no time for reflections of the heart though as the battle still raged around them. The mercenaries had valiantly fought their way to the landing at the top of the stairs and Candlelite and Absinthe were found suddenly alone, surrounded by enemies who wanted them dead. The vampires had been driven off and the rest of Harmony’s ‘men’ were being kept occupied by the zombies.
The undead creatures just kept coming. Thousands of them darted about the square in front of the guild hall hoping to get their share of the action. Some of them moved so fast that they were no more than a blur to the eye. With how empty Gontiluna had been it was unbelievable to think that so many of them could have been in the area, somewhere in hiding.
Seeing that the mercenaries had escaped the melee the werewolf and the she-bear began to bull their way up the stairs. Absinthe led the way forcibly making her way by bowling over goblins, humans, zombies, and werewolves like she would crash through brush. Candlelite was close behind her, picking through the scattered wreckage of her passage he kept anyone from stopping her.
As powerful as the two of them were though, it was unlikely that they would be able to battle their way back to their companions. Even with the retreat of the vampiric aerial support and the preoccupation of the rest of Harmony’s troops there were just too many zombies to contend with.
They were in danger of being drug down and consumed by the numerous gathering of undead when an organized concentration of plasma streaked into the crowd and cut through the enemy like butter. Scores of mercs stood on the landing with their rifles shouldered and dished out a fiery rain of death upon their foes. Harmony’s creatures and the zombies were cut up and fell to the ground until they resembled nothing more than a freshly timbered forest. The stench of burnt flesh was thick and choking.
The sudden rifle fire gave Candlelite and Absinthe the reprieve they needed. Expending the last of their flagging energy they put on an extra burst of speed and made the landing. Retreating before them, firing over their heads and around their sides, the mercenaries made the safety of the guild hall. Absinthe was in next, once more forced into the confines of the entry hall. Candlelite was close behind and he slammed the large doors shut as soon as he was clear.


The army of the Dark Lord lay encamped before the city walls. It sprawled for miles in all direction across the blasted plains, hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of troops. Goblins squabbled over the best spots to set up camp. Humans- men, women, and even children- squatted around cook fires preparing meals. Werewolves feasted on the fallen dead of the forced march while vampires could be found roosting in the limbs of trees magically grown in the dead soil specifically for their comfort.
More people arrived daily to swell the ranks of the foul army. All of the evil of AnEerth, from the four corners of the globe, traveled to answer the call to arms, a call that Harmony had sent forth upon his return from exile to his beloved home world. Men and women without honor, murderers, thieves, cutthroats, and knaves, came to swear allegiance and offer support. Sorcerers and warlocks as well as witches and magicians of the darker arts joined the army and added their individual talents to Harmony’s. Outlaw necromancers with their dead or dying servants, chaos mages capable of summoning demons and devils from the very pits of hell itself, pirates from the vast oceans sailed to shore and made the unfamiliar trek inland following the scent of plunder, the gleam of gold glinting in their bloodshot eyes.
All of these and more gathered to the shattered hills and devastated fields of the once lush and fertile land around the partially devastated planetary capitol. What was already an army of millions grew by millions more. Personal servants, hired hands, and even slaves were brought by the many minions of evil as they found places of their own among Harmony’s troops. Never in the history of the world had anyone assembled an army of this size but then never before had there been such an ambitious evil as Harmony.
The devil in disguise, Harmony had no conscience, no morals, and no sense of right or wrong. His driving force was conquest; his sole need was for the satisfaction of revenge, revenge against that damnable mercenary Jeshux, his lackey McAriicoys, and the King and Queen who ordered his capture. They were the instruments of his exile. He would destroy them all and fulfill his ultimate goal. He would rule the world of AnEerth and soon all would be his.
Barely could all the combined magic of the allies of light have stopped him before his retreat to and conquest of Earth. Now, with the sorcery he had gleaned from that world’s ancients, along with the compliment of arcane knowledge that arrived almost with every passing hour, he would be unstoppable. While his mundane troops kept the puppet king and his bitch occupied Harmony and his thaumaturgical tagalongs would tear the royal hierarchy to pieces.
Harmony sat on his throne of bones within the shielding walls of a black tent made from the skin of his victims. The vile warlock, father of death and creature of incarnate evil, looked with thinly slit eyes over his steeped fingers and a twisted smile of malevolence twisted the corners of his mouth while he contemplated his wickedness. Soon his dream would surpass the sublime boundaries of fantasy and enter the concrete realm of reality. Soon his destiny would be fulfilled.
It was almost that time. A time, Harmony felt, that had been foreordained by his birth and would reassure his rebirth into immortality. Not the paltry immortality such as was lived by such as Jeshux and his mercenaries or other naturally blessed individuals throughout AnEerth but the immortality that came from the absolute power that could only be gotten and kept through complete subservience of all life, gained only by enforcing a strict domination of will over all things, through his will, his power.
Power, immortality, conquest, obedience, power, power, POWER!
The words spun through Harmony’s mind, weaving a spell that created a vision of divinity stronger and headier than any sought by others with drugs or religion. Lost in his thoughts this magician of perversion and lust could hardly contain himself for the anticipation created by his lifelong desire being so close was so great that he could almost taste it, embrace and hold on to it, even caress it intimately like a long lost lover finally reunited after an immeasurable separation.
As he continued his meditation he forced himself to relax and closing his eyes Harmony drifted off into a light sleep where his ultimate dream continued unabated.


The King slept fitfully. He tossed and turned in his sleep, dreams of war and death disturbing his slumber.
In his dream he was dressed like the knights of eld in an ancient suit of armor. He sat astride a huge war charger, also decked in full armor, and he wielded a great flaming sword as bright as the sun.
Charging through hordes of his enemies he sundered his foes limb from limb until his armor and that of his mount ran red with blood. All around him his war cry was joined by the screams of his comrades as they died about him.
Ahead in the distance the King caught sight of his adversary, the sorcerer Harmony, and spurring his magnificent steed forward he rushed the dark magician, trampling friend and foe alike in his haste to dispatch the foul blight from his beautiful land.
Weaving such spells of savagery as never before seen Harmony seemed unconcerned by the King’s mad rush, only a devious narrowing of his eyes acknowledged that he noticed him at all. Then the King was upon him and with a triumphant smile of victory brought his flaming sword down for the death blow.
Waking with his war cry still on his lips and streaming sweat from his naked torso Zakeriah sat upright with a start. The covers were damp and tangled about him, his large goose down pillows lay discarded on the floor.
Rising up from within the shadows of the corner where she sat to watch her husband sleep, Queen Mega’N left her plain wooden chair, came to Zakeriah’s side and wrapped her arms around his moist neck.
“It’s alright,” she said. “I’m here.”
Zakeriah’s breath had been coming in great gulps as he came awake but quickly slowed to a normal rhythm as he sat cradled in his lovely wife’s arms.
“A nightmare?” Mega’N asked.
“No.” Zakeriah answered then paused to collect his thoughts. “Well some aspects were nightmarish,” he whispered. “But overall I think it was a foretelling of victory.”
“Tell me,” Mega’N whispered.
The King reiterated the details of his dream, touching only briefly on the fighting and ending with the look of surprise that had leapt into Harmony’s eyes as his sword fell for the killing stroke. He remarked upon the unique vividness of the dream, the full color and the attention to detail, he could remember the scent of blood and the scratches on the armor of his fallen comrades. All of these things were unique in that he hardly ever dreamed, never in color and hardly with such minute detail. This dream had been as if he lived it.
Mega’N listened quietly while her husband told her his dream. Over the decades she had heard many and she knew intuitively that this one was like none of the others. When he had finished she unwrapped her arms from his body and sat back to stare intently into his eyes.
“What?” Zakeriah asked for there was concern in her gaze.
Mega’N hesitated; uncertain she should voice her doubts. The King was under enough stress as it was, even more so now that Harmony sat outside the city with his vast army than after the sudden destruction of the surrounding countryside.
“What is it?” Zakeriah urged softly.
“I don’t know,” she began. “I just don’t think you should trust the message of this dream.”
“What do you mean?” he asked skeptically.
The Queen was a completely different person in private. Any that knew her would say that she was cold, insensitive, even callous, that she had a stinging tongue and an unending supply of sarcasm. Only a very few would note that she had any capacity for sympathy, compassion, or kindness. But in private, with a few close friends and most especially with Zakeriah, she was a completely different person. Soft spoken, generous, and capable of being very wise in her deductions, Mega’N was- by some- a very well liked individual.
The king in particular saw her inner self, the true person behind the ruling mask, and was in himself almost the sole inspiration for this gentle person.
Zakeriah’s skepticism softened as he perceived the turmoil his wife’s thoughts and emotions had been thrown into by the revelation of his dream and he reached out and brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
“Honey,” he spoke softly, his voice full of emotion, full of the love and respect he felt for this feisty little woman and her opinion. “What is wrong?”
Mega’N drew a deep breath and said, “Something doesn’t feel right. I’m not sure that your dream means you’re victorious. I don’t think that you should face Harmony.”
The King smiled but not condescendingly. “But what else could it mean?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “I have a bad feeling about it though and I don’t think you should ride into battle.”
“Darling,” Zakeriah whispered looking into her eyes. “It is my place as king to lead my men into battle; to ride at the head of our army as it goes forth to war. We fight for the continued peace of our way of life and for the love that we all have for all of AnEerth.”
“I know,” she said lowering her eyes, ashamed for her fear but unable to retract her concern.
“And not only AnEerth,” Zakeriah continued. “We’re also fighting to free an enslaved world. Fighting for the freedom of Earth and all of its people. They don’t deserve to live under the yoke of that madman, shackled and forced to serve his whims. The Earth and its people must be saved as right now their existence is as all of us would exist if Harmony were to win. Not only us and the Earth but all of the people of any world that Harmony might choose to visit his madness upon.”
The truth of her husband’s words and the passion with which he spoke them pulled at Mega’N’s heartstrings and increased the anguish that she felt but still she persisted.
“But, my husband, if the Chosen Ones are ordained to be the downfall of the Dark Lord then how can your dream be accurate?” she pleaded. “How can it mean what it seems you think it to mean?”
A shadow of doubt crossed Zakeriah’s face but he quickly replaced it with a reassuring smile.
“I don’t know,” he conceded. “But everything will turn out all right. You know as well as I do that everything works out for the best, every time, exactly as it’s supposed to.”
“Just because something is supposed to happen does not mean you have to like it,” the Queen grumbled.
Now it was Zakeriah’s turn to hug her and offer the healing comfort of his embrace. He could feel her small body trembling though she tried to hide it.
“Perhaps not, my love,” he said. “But regardless, what will be, will be and there’s no use to fret over it. Come, let’s go back to bed. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow and we’ll both need our rest.”
“Aye,” she agreed and slipped from his grasp to retrieve the pillows from where they had fallen on the floor.
Soon they were both back in bed and it was not long before Mega’N heard the rhythmic breathing of her husband slow back to its normal sleep speed. It was, however, a long time before her thoughts ran their course and she allowed her own breathing to join his.


The sun slowly rose over the Citadel of Gontiluna as the mercenaries made their way down the stairs to stand in the middle of the great square.
Candlelite and Absinthe, back in human form, gazed at the carnage strewn up and down the stairs and all across the square. Half eaten corpses and chewed on remains of what had once been arms, legs, hands, and feet lay scattered about the ground, discarded haphazardly. Even a smattering of heads with the flesh flayed to the skulls and brains oozing forth could be found. Pools of blood were spread everywhere, congealing with hundreds of flies buzzing around them. Besides the zombies the little winged carrion eaters were the most abundant life either of them had seen since their arrival.
Other than the fetid remains of their cannibalistic feeding not a sign remained to betray the zombie’s unnatural presence in Gontiluna. Of all the corpses that littered the area not one of them hinted at a brown robe. It was as if the creatures possessed some half remembered respect for the ‘dead’ and had taken their fallen with them. All of the corpses and pieces of corpses were of only goblins, werewolves, humans, and vampires. Jeshux scanned the mayhem about him and his quick survey confirmed that all of Harmony’s troops, except for the vampires who had flown away, had all fallen and been consumed by the undead inhabitants of Gontiluna, or mostly consumed anyway.
As the sun rose so did the temperature, promising that the day was going to be unseasonably warm. Average temperatures for that part of the world had been topping off around sixty-seven degrees or so, it was a half an hour after sunrise and the temperature had already reached that.
Keeping a sharp lookout for any unwanted guests, dead or otherwise, Jeshux moved his troops back down the boulevard toward his horses and the Citadel gates. Once they were past the point that had drove the equines crazy he had McAriicoys send out a few small groups to see if they could find anymore of the spooked animals. It was going to be a long walk back to the capital if they could not find mounts for his men.
During their forced encampment in the guild hall McAriicoys had told Jeshux about Harmony’s attack on Dirsellia with the arcane energy bomb and the subsequent annihilation of the surrounding countryside. Although he knew of the weapons potential for destruction it was still almost inconceivable to think of an area of hundreds of miles just wiped clean, all of those people gone, along with towns, trees, shrubs, and even hills. If it was possible it made the Commander General even more determined to destroy Harmony and with the siege of the capital he was sure it was time for them to return there.
McAriicoys, along with everyone else, had been told about the contents of the Archmagi’s diary. He was appalled at the idea of the woman’s perversion and betrayal. For six hundred years Archmagi Florencii had been the ruling power in Gonderlund and also an inspiration for the learning of many. She ran the Mage Guild like a tight ship ensuring that all who sought its wisdom never left disappointed. Maybe not the most politically involved leader but still there had never been any doubt from anyone about her commitment to the paths of light and virtue. Therefore it came as a surprise to learn that she had been secretly practicing and perfecting her necromonious arts for hundreds of years and through these arts had linked with and become an unwilling supporter of Harmony.
Jeshux related via the diary that it was through her necromancy that the sorceress finally committed her worst atrocity to date, which was an act of open treason against the crown. Using her illegal and accursed power she cast a spell over the entire country. This spell created a field, of which the boundary that scared the horses was but a remnant of. This field had covered the entire country of Gonderlund and slowly subverted the men, women, and children until they had one day stopped in the middle of their activities, whatever it was that they were doing, because they had become the monstrosities that the mercenaries had witnessed the night before. The field was the reason that none of the magical authorities has suspected what was happening because its power, though extremely strong, was so subtle as to be nearly undetectable.
And the entire time Florencii had waited, biding her time until her maniacal magic came to fruition and the entire population was under her sole control. For this was not only the last test of her acquired abilities but also her means of fulfilling the terms of the bargain that had bought her those powers. The diary had told of Harmony and how he had baited the Archmagi with tidbits of lore over the years. Feeding the woman’s lust for knowledge until it had grown insatiable the dark sorcerer presented the last piece of lore that she required. He tantalized her with it, dangling it in front of her until she could not help but agree to any demands he made for its acquisition. When she broke this is what he requested, that she use this power to enslave her people, transform them into nearly mindless monsters and march them at his request to join his army and help him in his conquest of AnEerth. Blinded by greed and high on the prospect of the power that would be hers, Archmagi Florencii agreed. This was the ultimate horror that a book of horrors finished with. The Archmagi ensorcelled her people and then, leaving enough of them behind with thoughts of guarding her crimes, she set off with the rest to join Harmony at the capitals gates.
The more he heard of Harmony and the black deeds of which he was capable and for which he was credited, so too did Candlelite’s own hate for the vile warlock swell until it very nearly rivaled that of McAriicoys or even Jeshux, men both who’s hatred and loathing had been fed and growing for centuries.
Having reached the stables and saddled the horses Jeshux had everyone who had mounts on them while they waited for the return of the men McAriicoys had sent out. After an hour of waiting mercenaries began to trickle in leading horses and after two hours all of them had returned but only a little over half of the animals had been recovered. The mercenary leader cursed at and conferred with McAriicoys. He had been pleasantly surprised at the arrival of his soldiers but with transportation at a minimum it was obvious that he was going to have to leave half of his men behind.
Having decided that the men who could ride would leave immediately Jeshux ordered a messenger sent to summon the rest of his army from the outskirts of the city. The men who could not ride would wait for the arrival of their comrades, finding horses as they could and catching up later.
So divided Jeshux and the others left the Citadel and headed away from Gontiluna.
The unseasonably hot weather continued to get hotter as the day progressed and by noon the temperature had increased until it was over eighty degrees.
Sefu had worked out another deal with Jeshux before they had left the Citadel. It was made perfectly clear that no one trusted her but the assassin’s dignity refused to let her be trussed up again like some piece of livestock; so she officially renounced her contract to kill the Chosen Ones and let the Commander General keep the blood money that she had received as a token of good faith. She knew that if she made any move to violate this bargain through any attempt to visit violence upon either Candlelite or Absinthe she would never live to escape the mercenary party. She believed Jeshux when he told her this and honestly had no intention to resume her work for the Dark Sorcerer. No contract, no matter how well it paid, was worth her losing her life.
So now the assassin rode, if not as a respected member of the mercenary group, then at least as one tolerated. Candlelite hardly said a word to her without some amount of contempt in his voice and Absinthe refused to talk to her at all, glaring at her whenever she caught the assassin looking her way but still she rode at the head of the army with Jeshux, McAriicoys, and the rest.
The little scientist Max Kimbal was the only one of them who treated her civilly, like she was human, and despite her solitary nature Sefu actually found that she liked the coarse old man a little bit.
Candlelite and Absinthe were overjoyed at being reunited with their mentor Vohrmint. The hulking mercenary had taught them both a lot while they had been holed up at the Midnight Monastery. He told them of his adventure and they were relieved to hear that Jin and the other monks had been evacuated safely. The old merc was also happy to hear that his friends had endured their own journeys virtually unscathed. At Candlelite’s relation of Jeshux and his capture of Sefu Atarle, Vohrmint guffawed heartily and openly stared at the assassin, noting that she scowled and turned almost as scarlet as the sash at her waist when she overheard Candlelite tell him how he had knocked her out with Jeshux pistol.
“That woman’s trouble,” Vohrmint told the younger man with a twinkle in his eye.
“You can say that again,” Candlelite grumped.
“You don’t agree with Jeshux letting her tag along?” Vohrmint asked him.
“I don’t trust her.”
“As well you shouldn’t,” Vohrmint said. “That woman has her own agenda. She looks out for number one, which makes it both easy and hard to tell what she’ll do.”
“Yeah,” Candlelite looked over his horses head. “But whatever she does it’s bound to be bad for anyone else.”
Vohrmint laughed, “You know, you’re probably right. I guess in that respect she’ll also be predictable.”
The temperature soared and by the time the sun started to set everyone was looking forward to the night and its diminishing effect on the heat. Unfortunately the night brought no relief. The sun went down and by the time that Candlelite and Absinthe returned to camp from their transformation the heat had not even gone down one degree.
The next day was even worse as the sun dawned with a starting temperature of almost ninety degrees and climbed just as steadily as it had the day before. When night came it once more brought no relief to temperatures that were well over one hundred.
Halfway through the third day out from Gontiluna one of the mercenaries spotted the vampire and Jeshux suspicions were confirmed.
There had been murmurs over the small cook fires throughout the camp for the last two nights that the sudden heat wave could not be natural and dusk of the third day they were murmurs no longer but outright discussions. The mercenaries sweated as they watched their food, barely able to stand the added heat of their fires long enough to let it cook, and everyone wondered how much hotter it would get the next day.
“What are we going to do?” Max asked as he wiped sweat off of his glasses. It was so hot that the old man would not even drink. He said it would do him no good as he was sweating so much the booze came out of his pores as fast as he could pour it down his throat.
“There’s not much we can do.” McAriicoys stood against a tree with his arms crossed. Earlier in the evening they had rode into a forest but even the shade of the trees was no help against the heat.
“He’s right,” Jeshux said. He had been brooding all day, ever since the enemy ‘spy’ had been spotted, thinking things over from every angle as he tried to come up with a solution. The facts were though that there was no solution, it was just over one hundred and forty degrees and if the temperature went any higher he and his people would only last a day, maybe two, tops.
“There’s nothing we can do,” he continued. “But keep heading in the direction we’re going, hope that it doesn’t get any hotter, and that when we reach the mountains it’ll be cooler.”
“That’s it?” Absinthe asked.
“Pray we don’t fry,” Sefu said and the green eyed woman sent her the usual glare. “You’ll have to do better than that honey. I’m becoming immune.”
Absinthe shook her head in exasperation and looked away saying, “Whatever.”
“She’s right,” Vohrmint said. Out of everyone in the mercenary camp the big veteran seemed to be the only one who remained mostly unaffected by the heat. He claimed that it was because of a tour he had done when he was younger in the private army of a satrap of the giant deserts of the eastern continent. “We all know who the enemy is.”
“Harmony,” Candlelite spoke up. The young man seemed to be faring worse than anyone in the scorching weather. His pale skin had quickly burned to the color of a lobster and though he was healing quickly he still had to be kept under a shade during daylight hours.
“Yes, Harmony,” Vohrmint said gently, sympathizing with the young man’s agony. “And he’s got no reason to let up until we’re all dead.”
“We are not going to die!” Jeshux suddenly roared jumping to his feet. The soldiers closest to him cast surprised glances in his direction but quickly looked away. “We’re not going to die,” he said quieter.
“It’s all right my friend. It’ll be all right.” McAriicoys had moved from his spot by the tree at his friend’s outburst and he laid his hand on Jeshux shoulder.
“Harmony won’t get away with this,” Jeshux told him and looked at McAriicoys with feverish eyes. Then he tore away from his friend’s reassuring hand and spinning wildly with his arms outstretched screamed at the heavens, “Do you hear me Harmony, you bastard? You’re not going to get away with this!”
Vohrmint grabbed Jeshux from behind, pinning his arms to his sides with his powerful grip.
McAriicoys slapped the struggling man in his face, stopping his futile attempts to escape Vohrmint’s grasp, and yelled in his face, “Jeshux! Get a hold of yourself! What the hell’s wrong with you?”
By this time the mercenaries had begun to gather around their raving commander, trying to figure out what was happening to him, concern mirrored in all of their eyes.
“What’s wrong Jeshux?” McAriicoys asked again.
Jeshux fixed his gaze to McAriicoys and said, “We’re not going to die.” and then he slumped in Vohrmint’s arms.

When Jeshux came to the first thing that he noticed was that it was much cooler, much, much cooler. He opened his eyes and saw snowflakes drifting down lazily through the air. He was laying down bundled in warm clothes and blankets. Everyone appeared to be camped for the evening, although it was not dark yet.
Absinthe knelt down beside him, a big smile on her face. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
Jeshux gave a half-hearted smile in return. “Thirsty,” he said through parched lips, his throat dry and his voice rusty.
The young woman rustled in a pack that was lying next to him. Producing a canteen she held it to his lips and let cool water trickle into his mouth. He sputtered a little but managed to get the liquid down.
“Better?” Absinthe asked.
“Yes,” Jeshux replied. “How long have I been out?”
“Four days,” she told him.
Looking incredulous Jeshux struggled to rise from his bedding.
“Hold your horses there,” Absinthe cautioned as she put a restraining hand on his shoulder and forced him to lie back down. “You’ve had a rough time and need your rest. McAriicoys has things well under control.”
Satisfied to hear that his second in command was taking care of business the mercenary did as he was told and closing his eyes for a moment he was soon back to sleep.
When Jeshux woke up again he felt a lot better. It had grown even colder and there was about eight inches of snow on the ground. It was completely dark this time. He stood up and rubbing his hands briskly together made his way over towards one of the many fires that were lit nearby.
Vohrmint, the first to see him coming, stood up quickly and said, “Sir! It’s good to see you up.”
“What happened?” Jeshux asked taking a seat next to McAriicoys and Max as Vohrmint took his own.
Max was drinking again and offered Jeshux his ever present flask. “It got colder’n a witch’s titties is wha’ happened,” the old man said a little drunk.
“Really?” Jeshux asked barely managing to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
“Yep,” the old man confirmed.
McAriicoys smiled at the scientist’s drunken sincerity and told Jeshux, “You came down with a bad case of sun sickness. You became delirious and passed out. We thought you were a goner there for a moment.”
“Hmm,” Jeshux murmured and took another drink off of Max’s flask before handing it back to him. “And after that?”
“After that it just got hotter,” Vohrmint guffawed. “Damned temperature must have been over one sixty by sundown the next day. We hardly made any progress at all and ended up making camp after only ten miles.”
“Yes,” McAriicoys agreed. “And then, after that, as quickly as it started it began to cool off.”
“Cooled off fast,” Max interjected drunkenly.
“How long has it been since I collapsed?” Jeshux asked. “Last I remember Absinthe told me four days.”
It’s been another three since then,” Vohrmint told him.
Jeshux looked off into the darkness. “How far are we from the mountains?” he asked.
“About twenty miles, give or take,” McAriicoys said.
“And no sign of the rest of our troops?” Jeshux asked.
“As of yet none,” McAriicoys told him and Jeshux shook his head in disbelief.
“Ish fuk’n cold,” Max slurred.
“Yes it is, my friend,” Vohrmint slapped him heartily on the back. “How about you share some of that bottled fire of yours?”
“Gladly,” Max said handing him the flask.
“We made pretty good time once the weather started cooling off,” McAriicoys continued. “But we still had to go pretty slow because of your condition.”
“We’ve been pushing pretty hard the last three days though,” Vohrmint upended the flask and drained it. “We figure since you woke up you were out of the woods and could stand a little hard riding. All the same though, with the hard time we’ve been having a force twenty thousand strong is going to have it a lot harder.”
“Of course,” Jeshux said. “But we’re still a long ways off from getting to Zakeriah. We need to start moving faster now.”
“Agreed,” McAriicoys said. “But not just for the reasons you think. Even though it’s not dropping as fast as it rose the temperature is still falling steadily. If it keeps up at the rate that it has been I give it another two days before it reaches negative twenty degrees, and that’s without the wind chill.”
“Damnit,” Jeshux cursed. “And where are Candlelite and Absinthe?”
Max pointed off into the shadows where you could just make out a small hill slightly darker than its surroundings. “Over there,” he said and procured another flask from somewhere within his garments.
“They’ve been sleeping nestled up to each other for warmth for the last three nights,” Vohrmint said as he took Max’s bottle from him. “I think you’ve had enough of this my friend.”
The old scientist protested feebly but did not try to get the liquor back. “Well I’m goin’ t’ bed th’n,” he declared rising from the fire and stretching his arms and back. “G’night.”
“Good night,” everyone told him and he staggered off into the night.
The three soldiers stayed up a while longer with Vohrmint and Jeshux sharing Max’s whiskey. Finally McAriicoys stated his own need for sleep and when the alcohol was gone Vohrmint too, made his way to bed.
After sleeping for a week Jeshux found that he was not tired, despite the relaxing effect of the whiskey, and he stayed up thinking about the assault of the weather, among other things, until with only a few hours left until dawn he too made his way back to bed.

Twelve days from Gontiluna and the mercenary army found themselves staring at the looming crags of a great mountain range.
The temperature was now at negative fifty-five degrees and dropped to negative seventy degrees or less as the gusts of wind whipped the snow into thick flurries all around them. The visibility was down to almost zero and despite the monstrous size of the range in front of them they could hardly make out the mountains through the thickness of the snow.
Finding shelter in the lee of some rocks and trees the leaders of this arctic expedition took some time to contemplate the best course of action for crossing the great peaks. With the wind and snow howling it was already hard enough for the large group to stay together and the prospect of crossing the mountains in such numbers was a daunting proposition.
Over the flatlands the mercenaries had taken to stringing the horses together with ropes so as to lose no one in the whiteout but the prospect of attempting to climb even into the foothills in such a manner was not a pleasant idea. They had to contemplate a better alternative and all the while the weather worsened. The snow was well over two and a half feet deep and in some places it had drifted closer to four so leaving the animals strung together and trying to lead them into the hills on foot was out of the question. Everyone would be exhausted before they had gone a mile but if they stayed where they were then everyone would freeze to death. The situation definitely required some thought and they had better think fast.


“Sire, I don’t know how much more of this we can take,” Nefarious stated calmly as the palace walls stopped shaking and the faint sound of silt from ancient mortar hitting the ground was all you could hear.
Three days earlier Harmony had commenced bombardment of Dirsellia with his arcane energy canon. For three days straight, day and night, every hour on the hour, a massive burst of energy slammed into the shields that had been hastily erected to withstand the detonation of the arcane energy bomb. But those shields had not been fortified to hold against the steady pounding they were receiving and after already deflected the arcane energy bomb’s initial blast they were not going to be able to last much longer.
“Well what are you doing about it?” Zakeriah barked.
The King had hardly slept in four days and was looking half dead. Only one of his emissaries to the foreign provinces had made it back in time to enter the city before Harmony’s army had arrived and now, although the others had also responded and waited to lend their support, Harmony had them cut off and in hiding. None of them had even been able to sneak a messenger through the noose that the Dark Sorcerer had slipped around the capital and so Zakeriah had no way of knowing how many soldiers the lords of each of the provinces had been able to send. Magic was the only way he could attempt communication with his allies and the recent barrage from the arcane energy canon caused too much interference for his magicians to be very successful.
The emissary who had managed to slip in before Harmony’s arrival was back from the province of Hartlii and was the smallest of the five provinces that had been contacted. The Lord of Hartlii, Lord Seuriius, was a scrawny man who only stood about five feet nine inches but he was a staunch supporter of the throne and possessed of a lion’s share of courage.
Nefarious turned a whiter shade of pale at the King’s outburst but stood his ground. “Sire, we’re doing everything we can.”
“Apparently it’s not enough,” Zakeriah muttered. A distinct look of fear was creeping into his eyes. Fear for his people, fear for his kingdom, and fear that Harmony’s foul play would not allow him to face the sorcerer on fair terms; then the prospect of dying helplessly in the palace without the chance to properly defend his kingdom chased away his fear and replaced it with a righteous anger that lit a wildfire behind his eyes.
“Damnit, where are my defense advisors?” he yelled.
“With all due respect, your Highness, they are busy trying to maintain the integrity of our shields,” Nefarious told him gently.
The King raised his eyes to the ceiling and spread his arms in supplication. “Death take Harmony and the evil that was birthed with him,” he moaned.
“All in due time, my lord, all in due time,” Nefarious said. It pained him to see the King act so. Normally Zakeriah was a stout, self-assured man who was not susceptible to the depression that seemed to plague him of late. The King’s chief advisor knew that his liege’s worries stemmed from his present inability to act against his enemies and hoped to soon see an end to this helplessness before it had a chance to turn into despair.
Another blast hit the shields. The walls shook and the floor trembled violently. The King’s crown slipped down on his head and he reached up absently to right it.
“They’re coming closer together,” he said.
“Yes my lord,” Nefarious agreed.
“Damn you are about useless!” Zakeriah exploded. “Get the hell out of here! I don’t want to see you until you have some good news to report. Now, GET OUT!” The King stood up, arm raised and finger pointed towards the door.
“Yes, my lord,” Nefarious said respectfully, bowing as he made his way for the door. He knew the King was stressed and prayed that something would happen soon to upset the balance of the siege.


Lord Quazetkic stood on a rock outcropping high in the foothills far to the west of the capital and watched as a flash of light signaled another hit against the city of his besieged king. As the Lord of Longiglow, the largest province of the five that were rallied against the Dark Sorcerer, he had taken it upon himself to organize the lords of the other provinces and try to formulate a plan that would free the King to rise against Harmony and his minions. As of that moment any plan that was worth attempting was slow to form.
The three men who stood with him, the Lords Keriee, Havershom, and Turinoc, shielded their eyes from the glare of another blast with their hands.
“They’re coming quicker,” Turinoc observed. Lord of the Southern Realms Turinoc was a giant of a man who stood nearly seven feet tall and weighed in at two hundred and eighty-five pounds. He was dressed in full battle armor and was rumored never to be without it, not even in sleep. A giant battle axe hung on his back, an heirloom from the last Great War where it had been carried by his great-great grandfather. It had seen many battles and its blades were notched from heavy blows against their steel.
“Aye,” Havershom lowered his hand and dug a custom made cigarette case from within his vest, removed a cigarette and lit it. “I do’na think their shields’r’ gonna last much longer.”
Quazetkic look at the wiry lord and wondered how Havershom retained his fit physique while entertaining such a disgusting habit.
Lord Keriee broke his customary silence and smoothed down the corners of his mustache with thumb and forefinger. “I believe it’s time,” he said softly.
“Time, boyo?” Havershom queried.
“Time,” Keriee repeated.
“The Lord Keriee is right,” Quazetkic stated firmly. “We have bided our time hiding in these hills for long enough.”
“I agree,” Turinoc rumbled.
“So wat’r’ ye propos’n’?” Havershom asked Quazetkic and took a long pull from his cigarette.
“I’m proposing,” Quazetkic enunciated the word slowly. “That we give our king the reprieve that he needs and take out that canon.”
Lord Keriee stroked the corners of his mustache and nodded.
Havershom ignored the jibe at his speech, if anything thickening his accent as he ground his cigarette out under his heel and said, “Alreet! Tha's wat'm talk’n aboot, m’boyo. An’ how’r’ ye propos’n,” he enunciated the word slowly. “We do that?”
Lord Quazetkic turned and began to walk away. “Tell your men it is time to move out. I will explain as we ride.”


The cold was unbearable and the falling snow was almost thick enough to drown in. The horses were foundering and could hardly push through the snow piling up to their chests. Some had already been lost to the cold having stopped and refusing to go any further until they had froze where they stood. After two days of travel into the mountains it was a surprise that none of the mercenaries had been lost along with them.
Jeshux was constantly blinded by and had to squint into, the sleeting snow crystals as they flew in sideways. He had long ago lost all feeling in his fingers and his feet. His beard and eyebrows, indeed his whole face was encrusted with ice but somehow he found the strength to stay on his horse while his steed somehow found the strength to continue through the blizzard.
Without warning, as he was about to slip off of his horse, someone crashed into him. Startled out of his lethargy he turned to see a face as encrusted with ice as he knew his own to be staring at him.
“Jeshux!” the face shouted and the voice was Candlelite’s. “We’ve got to stop! We’re not gonna make it much longer! We need fire!”
The Commander General’s senses were so addled by the cold that he could barely comprehend what the young man was telling him.
Seeing the dazed look in his eyes Candlelite grabbed Jeshux and shook him. “Do you understand? We need to get warm!”
Jeshux nodded dumbly and pulled his horse to a halt.
Relief washed over Candlelite and he smiled as much as his frozen face would let him before going to tell the others.
Candlelite returned with McAriicoys and Vohrmint and the four men began to burrow in a snow drift seven feet deep, hollowing out a cave to shelter them against the howling wind that drove the temperature down to almost negative seventy degrees.
Max and Absinthe held the horses to one side with Sefu and it was only when they were done digging the cave that Jeshux realized that they were alone.
Uncertain how you could lose an entire army, even in the extremes of weather that they were facing, he shouted above the wind, “Where is everyone?”
Vohrmint shrugged his massive shoulders and made his way into the cave to engage in building a fire from supplies in his pact while McAriicoys shouted back, “I don’t know! They were all behind us the last I noticed.”
Candlelite ducked his head under the low entrance, led Absinthe into the enclosed spaces of the glorified snow tunnel and knelt down beside Vohrmint to help with the fire.
Max came in with Sefu and immediately broke out his whiskey, taking a healthy swallow before he passed it around to the others. The already cobwebbed Jeshux declined the bottle as he entered the cave but the usually abstaining McAriicoys took the proffered alcohol gratefully.
“Did any of you notice what happened to my men?” Jeshux demanded.
Everyone shook their heads negatively.
“I haven’t been able to pay attention to anything,” Absinthe said from where she huddled close to the small fire as it crackled to life. “But I think it’s been a couple of hours since I last noticed somebody behind me.”
“Yeah,” Candlelite said and nodded that this was true for him also.
Vohrmint built the fire up higher. In the cave and out of the wind the temperature was still below zero. The melting snow was running from the fire but as soon as it got far enough away it froze again.
“So what are we going to do now?” Sefu asked and then guzzled off the whiskey.
“Hey! Take it easy there,” Max chided her taking his bottle back. “I haven’t got much more of that.”
Candlelite narrowed his gaze. “What are we going to do?” he asked Jeshux.
“I don’t know,” Jeshux said. “I have a feeling that we won’t survive long in here and we won’t survive at all if we go back out there.” He hooked a thumb at the mouth of their cave.
“Really, no shit,” Candlelite said facetiously. “Did you figure that out all by yourself?”
“Enough!” Absinthe commanded rummaging in her pack. “I know what we need to do.”
“And what is that my dear?” Max asked gently.
She came up from her open pack holding some packages. “We eat,” she said.
“Now that’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time,” Vohrmint said taking one of the field rations she offered. “I feel like I could eat a horse.”
“I hope you like them frozen,” McAriicoys told him. He had just gotten back from checking on the animals.
“Why’s that?” Vohrmint asked and munched a bite out of a food bar.
“Let’s just say I don’t think we’ll be riding out of here,” he said as he crouched next to the fire and accepted his own meal from Absinthe.
“The horses?” Jeshux looked over the fire at his friends eyes.
“The horses,” McAriicoys confirmed chewing slowly.
“Damnit,” the mercenary leader muttered as he shook his head.
“What?” Candlelite asked as he looked from one man to the other. “What about the horses?”
“They’re dead Candlelite,” Vohrmint said softly.
“What?”
“Horsesicles,” Max interjected.
“What?” Candlelite asked for a third time.
“Candlelite, stop saying what,” Absinthe shoved him.
The young man chomped down on his food bar and did not say anything but his jaws clenched and unclenched around his food furiously.
“You know this is just great,” he finally muttered.
“Candlelite!” Absinthe admonished.
“Look, I’m sorry but this is starting to become too much,” he said. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of this. Getting mauled by that damned werewolf and having my whole family killed was bad enough but now here I am on a world other than my own, in a different universe, in a completely different dimension of reality for Christ’s sake and I’m supposed to be the savior of everyone. Except that now I can’t even save myself and I’m going to die. I’m going to freeze to death in this god forsaken cold on this godforsaken mountain and come spring I’m going to thaw out and provide some little critter with a tasty treat!”
“Well at least some good will come of this,” Vohrmint said and cracked a smile.
Candlelite looked at the aged warrior like he was crazy and then looked around the circle of his comrades, his friends. He stopped when he got to Absinthe and saw the hurt, the anger on her face and the tears that had sprung from her eyes to roll down her cheeks.
The beautiful young woman’s face was flushed and her emerald eyes sparkled like jewels. Her lower lip trembled and when she opened her mouth her words were so quiet they were almost inaudible.
“What do you mean by this?” she asked him.
“Huh?”
“You said you didn’t ask for this,” Absinthe made an encompassing motion with one hand. “Any of it. Well I’m a part of this, also. So you didn’t ask for me either.”
“Abbie,” Candlelite implored. He could see where this was going.
But she held up a hand to silence him, the anger overcoming her hurt. “And if you don’t want to be a part of this,” there was steel in her voice. “Then you must not want any part of me.” And with that said she stood and fled the cave.
“Absinthe!” Candlelite called and got up to go after her. “Absinthe!”
He chased his lover as she fled from the cave and finally caught up with her after about a hundred yards, his longer legs able to propel him quicker through the deep snow than her own.

Grabbing her by the shoulders Candlelite spun her around to face him
.“Abbie!” he pleaded as she tried to break free. “Abbie!”
Once out of the crude igloo Absinthe’s tears had flowed freely and now her grimy face was streaked with their frozen tracks.
“Abbie,” Candlelite said a third time and pulled her close, hugging her to him. “Absinthe, please don’t. I love you.”
Finally she stopped struggling and with a sob collapsed into his strong arms.
“You’re not the only one who’s a part of this,” she said between breaths. “You’re not doing this alone.”
“I know,” he said hugging her tightly. “I know.”
Then something struck him as funny. He looked around and suddenly realized what it was.
“Hey! It stopped snowing,” he exclaimed. “And there’s no wind!”
Absinthe raised her head from where it lay on his shoulder. “You’re right,” she said. “But it’s still cold.”
Candlelite turned and yelled over his shoulder, “Hey everyone, it stopped snowing! Come out here, the sun’s coming out!”
The rest of the people came out of the snow cave, shielding their eyes from the dazzling sun and marveled at the sudden change in their fortunes.
“Well I’ll be damned!” Vohrmint declared.
“Man, that sucker’s bright,” Max said looking towards the sky.
Jeshux and McAriicoys exchanged puzzled looks.
“I don’t like this,” McAriicoys said. “Harmony had us on the ropes. Why let up now?”
“You’re right,” Jeshux agreed.
“Commander General Jeshux!” a high voice shouted from behind them.
Everyone spun toward the sound of the voice, the four men and Sefu shouldering their rifles while Candlelite and Absinthe, having left theirs in the cave, stood helpless.
On the hill above their cave stood a tall, stately woman dressed in flowing purple robes with luminescent green trim. Her hair was dirty dishwater blonde streaked with pure white. The woman’s aura radiated age but her body was that of a woman in her twenties. Only her eyes confirmed the centuries her spirit carried. Around her stood hundreds of men and women who wore green trimmed brown robes and swayed gently back and forth as if a soft breeze blew around them or as if they were caught in an underwater tidal pull, sea amoebas rooted to an ocean bed. All of them wore the same blank look on their slack faces.
“Florencii!” Jeshux hissed.
“Good day, Jeshux,” the Archmagi smiled warmly.
“It was.”
“Oh, come now. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“All of my friends are standing over here,” the mercenary told her.
“I see,” said Florencii with a sigh. “Very well then, if you all will please drop your weapons and come with me.”
“And if we don’t,” Jeshux asked.
The Archmagi raised one of her hands and all of the zombies took a step forward.
“You wouldn’t,” Jeshux challenged. “I know you.”
Two of the creatures broke ranks and rushed Vohrmint. The brave soldier stood his ground for as long as he could and at the last moment sighted his rifle to dispatch one of the zombies through the head. The caricature of a man dropped at his feet while the other one was stopped just as efficiently by McAriicoys.
“Thanks,” Vohrmint wiped a cold sweat off of his brow and McAriicoys nodded.
Jeshux stared hard into the Archmagi’s eyes and grimaced. “Alright, drop ‘em,” he said throwing his rifle down with disgust.
The other three men followed suit and Absinthe and Candlelite walked over to join their friends.
“Ah, and these must be the Chosen Ones,” Florencii observed as if the preceding incident had not occurred. “I am the Archmagi Florencii Splendora Ambrosia, how do you do?”
Absinthe and Candlelite did not say anything but responded with stony looks.
“Ah,” the Archmagi sighed. “It doesn’t have to be like this, really, we can all still be friends.”
“No Florencii, we can’t,” Jeshux spoke what was on all of their minds. “You’ve made your choice as to who your friends are and you’ve known for a long time that we’re opposed to everything those friends stand for.”
“Yes, I suppose I have,” Florencii admitted. “But my actions are the price I must pay for the powers I wield.”
“You have no power Florencii,” Jeshux said in amazement. “Can’t you see that? You’ve only an illusion of power and that was given to you by Harmony!” The mercenary spat the sorcerer’s name from his mouth like it was a foul poison. “You’re his puppet, nothing more.”
The Archmagi’s eyes flashed, reflecting Jeshux anger and she motioned her servants forward. The rifles were picked up off of the ground and the packs were collected from within the cave. A ring of the undead encircled the mercenaries and their charges.
“Now if you all will be so kind as to come with me,” Florencii said congenially and turned away. “We have an appointment to keep and I’m afraid we’re already late.”


Blasts from the arcane energy canon came steadily now. Every five to ten minutes buildings throughout AnEerth’s capital shook violently and debris fell in an almost constant shower to rain down on residents and citizens everywhere.
King Zakeriah was frantic with worry, worry for his people, worry for his city, and worry for his entire planet. Despair was knocking at the door and all he could do was curse helplessly with every impact of the Dark Sorcerer’s canon.
Nefarious entered the throne room and approached the dais. He flinched under the king’s glare but kept his stride from faltering. He reached the foot of the dais and lifted his eyes to his lord’s as he bowed.
“Your majesty,” Nefarious ventured.
“What is it?” Zakeriah asked haughtily.
“My Lord, I’m afraid I’ve got bad news,” Nefarious began hesitantly.
“Of course you do,” the king grumped. “Spit it out already.”
“My Lord, the shields are failing rapidly.”
Zakeriah groaned and Nefarious continued, “The mages and sorcerers are doing everything they can to strengthen them but at the present rate of bombardment the technicians are only giving them six more hours.”
“Six hours,” the king echoed.
“Six hours, Sire.”
“I heard you the first time.”
Something in the king’s voice made Nefarious take a quick step back. “I’m sorry your highness,” he apologized.
“No matter,” Zakeriah said softly. Suddenly a calming wave washed over his entire body. “Could you please inform my wife that I would like to speak with her?”
“Of course, Sire,” Nefarious was somewhat taken aback by the king’s sudden change in demeanor. “Is there anything else you need, your highness?”
“A glass of water maybe,” Zakeriah suggested. His mind had locked into a course of action that he knew there would be no coming back from.
“Yes Sire. I’ll have it brought in immediately.”
“Thank you Nefarious.”
The magician bowed deeply, turned and hastily left the throne room. There had been something in the king’s eyes that had left him feeling slightly disturbed, something a little mad maybe.


Lord Quazetkic was surprised at how few personnel Harmony had left behind to guard his ultimate weapon. Besides the three operators who ran the thing there were only a few handfuls of goblins, about a dozen men, and a single pack of werewolves. It seemed that everyone else had followed the sorcerer to the capital.
“We’r’n luck, boyo,” Havershom whispered from his right side.
The two of them, along with Lord Turinoc, had left their men with the Lord Keriee and hiked fifteen miles to spy out their enemy’s mountain peak encampment.
Security was lax. There were not any perimeter guards, no sentries of any kind. The goblins sat around their cook fires bickering amongst themselves; the men were busy helping the canon’s operators maintain the various aspects of running the massive weapon, and the werewolves were all huddled together off on the edge of the camp fast asleep.
“This ought to be easy enough,” Turinoc rumbled softly. “Harmony may have strength in numbers but he’s got no discipline.”
“Shh,” Quazetkic peered intensely around the camp. “Something is not right here. I cannot quite put my finger on it but this cannot be right.”
“Wha’ is it, Quazie?” Havershom elbowed him. “Ya canna b’lieve a good thing win ya see it?”
“Shut your mouth Havershom!” Quazetkic spoke quietly but his tone was fierce and the other man went mute.
“What is it Quazetkic?” Turinoc asked from his left side.
“I am not sure. Give me a minute.”
The lord ran everything through his head. He noted the positions of all of the people in the encampment, noting every movement and activity they participated in. He looked to the sleeping werewolves. The hulking animals were not stirring except for the rhythmic rise and fall of their great chests. The three men had anticipated their presence and had made their way from downwind so as not to alert the beasts to their arrival. So far the wind had not changed.
What is going on here? Quazetkic thought. He found it hard to believe that the most ruthless villain on two planets would command so little respect that as soon as his back was turned all of his men would turn lackadaisical.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Let us leave here.”
“Aye, let’s go rally th’ troops,” Havershom said and backed slowly into the brush.
During the hike back to where they had left Keriee and their men, Quazetkic pondered the subliminal incongruities of Harmony’s gun camp but no matter how he tried he could not figure out what was wrong. Finally he gave up. He must have been wrong and everything was exactly as it appeared to be.
Once the three men rejoined their comrades they filled Lord Keriee in on the layout of the enemy’s camp and the number of personnel guarding the canon. Quazetkic kept silent about his concern and did not relay his doubts about how easy the liberation of the canon would be.
“Th’ dogs were all fas’ asleep,” Havershom was telling Keriee. “They won’ stanna chance.”
Keriee nodded silently and turned to follow Quazetkic as he walked away.
Keriee caught up to him and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Quazetkic stopped at the other man’s voice, turned and said, “I do not know.” He sighed. “Something though, something did not feel right.”
“The lack of discipline?”
“That was part of it, yes,” Quazetkic admitted.
Keriee stroked his mustache, “And the other part?”
“I do not know,” Quazetkic repeated. “I have been mulling it over all the way here but it keeps eluding me.”
“And you still want to do this?” the older man asked with compassion in his eyes.
“Do we have a choice?”
“I suppose we don’t,” Keriee answered. He clapped Quazetkic on the shoulder. “I’ll go get everyone ready.”
“I will be there shortly. I have to think about this a bit more.”
“Fine,” Keriee said and turned to walk back to the rest of the men.
“Keriee,” Quazetkic said.
“Yes?” the lord turned back.
“Try and damp Havershom’s fire a little. If I have to put up with his high spirits for much longer I am going to feed him to those werewolves”
Keriee smiled. “I think I may have to help you.” And then he walked off.
Quazetkic managed a chuckle before he became serious again. Keriee may not say much but as the most level headed of the other three lords he was definitely the one he most trusted not to let the excitement of the upcoming campaign go to his head and impair his judgment. Now if only he could wrap his brain around what the problem was with the disregard for security at the canon’s camp he would feel better about their chance of success.


By the time Queen Mega’N entered the throne room Zakeriah had surrounded himself with his war advisors. Nefarious and Lord Seuriius were there, as well as various consultants and advisors of the crown.
“What’s going on in here?” Mega’N demanded as she approached the throne.
“Ah, my Queen,” Zakeriah greeted and took her hand to help her to her seat. “I’m glad you could join us.” Ever since he had resigned himself to his present course of action his spirits had risen remarkably.
“Again, my Lord, what is it you think you’re doing?”
“My darling, I have decided that it is time to take this war to its source. I’m going to attack Harmony.”
“What!” the queen exclaimed.
“Don’t play dumb, dear. You heard me.”
“Heard you wrong I hope,” she said.
“No my love,” Zakeriah’s face went grim. “Not wrong.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Mega’N thundered. “There are millions of them out there!”
“I know,” Zakeriah stated calmly. “But if we do not act now there will be no one in here.” At that moment another blast impacted the shields and shook the walls around them, punctuating the king’s statement. He looked at the ceiling as bits of plaster shook loose as if to say, see what I mean?
The queen sighed in resignation. “You’re right, of course,” she admitted.
“Of course,” the king said gently. “And now if we can return to the discussion at hand, the clock is ticking.” He turned to one of his advisors. “How much time remains?”
“Approximately five hours and eleven minutes,” the man said.
“Five hours gentlemen,” Zakeriah steeped his fingers and looked over them. “Five hours and our shields fail. Harmony will either annihilate us with his arcane energy canon or, if he so chooses, with a bit more effort he can overwhelm us with sheer numbers. Now, what are we going to do to ensure that neither of these options comes to pass?”
“The odds against us are staggering Sire,” Nefarious spoke up. He had returned directly after summoning the queen. “As of this moment Harmony has an estimated six million troops camped outside our walls while our own fighting numbers are barely five hundred thousand.”
“With or without our arcane arsenal?” the king asked.
“Without, Sire,” Nefarious told him. “Our magicians are numbering about ten thousand with volunteers trickling in as we speak. I’ve had the call sent out and anyone with any kind of experience, magical or otherwise, offensive or defensive, is being drafted and briefed on the situation.”
“Very good,” Zakeriah said.
“And just what are you planning to do with so few people?” the queen asked.
Suddenly the king had an idea. “How many men do you think the other four lords having standing by?” he asked.
Lord Seuriius spoke up. “Your Highness, I believe that considering the size of each of the provinces in question that we can expect an average of another two hundred thousand between the four of them.”
“And what of Jeshux mercenaries?” the king asked.
One of his statisticians answered, “Last count Commander General Jeshux had only forty or so thousand men left, a little over half of which are currently stationed here.”
“And would it be possible, without exact coordinates for these forces, to teleport someone to their locations?” Zakeriah inquired.
Everyone was silent as Nefarious contemplated the king’s request for a moment before he said, “Yes I believe we may be able to do that with a fair amount of accuracy your Highness.”
“What does a fair amount of accuracy entail?’ Mega’N asked skeptically.
“I’d say at least an eighty-five percent chance of success my Queen,” Nefarious told her.
“Excellent,” Zakeriah said.
“But we have to lower the shields in order to do it, Sire,” Nefarious said.
“How much time do you need?” the king asked.
Nefarious did a quick mental calculation before replying, “Six to ten minutes, your Highness.”
Another blast shook the palace and everyone waited for the repercussion to subside before continuing.
“How far apart have those blasts been coming?” Zakeriah asked.
“Those last two were twelve minutes, thirteen seconds apart Sire,” and aid informed him. “But they’ve been averaging anywhere from seven to eleven minutes.”
“It would be close then,” the king mused.
“Perhaps too close,” the queen proposed.
“Perhaps my love,” Zakeriah conceded. “But what other choice do we have?”
The Queen’s silence was answer enough.
“It’s settled then,” the king stated with finality. “I want everything ready within the hour.” He turned to Nefarious. “See to it.”
“At once my Lord,” the magician said, rose from his seat and left.
“And as for you Seuriius,” Zakeriah said. “Go now and prepare your men for battle. I also want them ready within the hour.”
“It shall be done Sire.” The lord rose from his seat and left.
“I need my garrisons prepped and ready for war. City Guard stays to deal with domestic protocol; Royal and Imperial guards are on standby so they only need to be given the word that now is the time. I don’t think that fancy tactics are going to do us any good against the force that Harmony has assembled against us, so this is what I propose; once we’ve located our outside allies we’re going to send them the necessary aid to teleport to our assistance. We’ll bring them all to one area, somewhere on the other side of Harmony’s army, right before the moment of our attack. Once we launch our assault they can rush in as well and we will sandwich Harmony between us.”
“It sounds like you’ve been thinking about this for quite a while, my liege,” one of the council members interjected.
“Not really,” Zakeriah admitted. “It’s all just come to me in a flash of desperation.”
There were smirks from the men gathered around; often in war did despair breed the best of strategies.
The queen however, was not amused.
The king went on, “The way I figure it, if we can bring together our forces which are scattered throughout the countryside then we will have brought Jeshux mercenaries and he will have the Chosen Ones with him. At that point everything will depend on fate. If the prophecy is correct then this is the time it comes to pass.”
“Ought that fate to be tempted?” Mega’N mused. “It might not do well to force a meeting between Harmony and the Chosen Ones before it is time.”
There were murmurs of agreement from the assembly and the king held up his hand for silence.
“Are we forcing anything?” he asked. “I don’t think we can. After all, if we decide to go into battle and this is the path we choose to lead us to this battle, it is fate. Is it not?” Zakeriah looked around at the men before him.
There was no arguing the king’s logic. Everyone rose to their feet and there was a collective cry of, “Aye!”
Zakeriah looked upon the men before him with the love that only a king could feel for his people and smiled.
“It’s settled,” he said. “All of you know your duties in preparing for this undertaking. I expect you all ready within the hour, dismissed!”
All of them gave him the salute of fidelity to the crown, which he returned, and then they all hurried from the room eager to go about their business.
“Bravely said, my Lord,” Mega’N spoke from the seat next to him. “But none of those men are philosophers. You didn’t really expect them to argue with you, did you?”
“No, my love,” Zakeriah smiled and took her hand in his.
“And do you believe it?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” he countered.
“What of your dream?” Mega’N inquired. “Surely if you believe it to be a premonition of your victory then it can’t be fated for the Chosen Ones to defeat Harmony, in which case the prophecy would be wrong. Wouldn’t it?”
Zakeriah frowned. “What are you driving at?”
“I’m just trying to make certain where your beliefs sit my love,” the queen squeezed his hand. “Nothing more.”
“The prophecy speaks of the Chosen Ones delivering us from a great evil and ending a war,” he reminded her. “It does not specify that they are to be the death of Harmony only that it will be they who usher in a golden era in the history of AnEerth.”
“Yes, my love. I know the prophecy as well as you,” Mega’N chided. “I just want you to think about what you are doing.”
Zakeriah removed his hand from hers and gave her a hard look. “I have thought about it. I’ve been thinking about it for years. It’s all I’ve been able to think about all week and finally, on this day, I have been shown the path I am to follow, the road of salvation for our people, our planet. This is what I have to do to save us all”
“Do you hear yourself?” Mega’N asked as she returned his look exactly. “You’re not the one destined to save us. Candlelite and Absinthe are. How can you have convinced yourself that it can be otherwise?”
“I have not,” he denied. “But all the same I have a role to play in all of this and as ruler of this planet I have a responsibility to the people who live on it. I must do something. I have to do everything in my power to keep them safe.”
“Yes Zakeriah, you do. Just don’t forget your place in all of this. Don’t believe it’s something it’s not.”
“I have not,” he repeated. “I will not.”
“Good,” she said firmly and rose from her seat. “Then I shall leave you as I’m sure you’ve much to do before your battle and I have preparations of my own to attend to.”
“What kind of preparations?” the king asked suspiciously.
“I must ready myself to ride with you,” she told him.
“No!” he shouted. “I forbid it!”
“You forbid nothing,” she retorted calmly. “My place is by your side. It always has been and it always will be.”
“Mega’N,” Zakeriah pleaded. “Please, no.”
“Yes,” was the only word the queen said and then she left the room.
The king stared after her and for some time after her departure sat in silence. It was some time later before he finally realized that the walls had not shaken for quite some time.


It came to the Lord Quazetkic while he sat on his horse with the other lords before they left for their assault on the arcane energy canon.
“A force field!” he suddenly shouted.
“What?” Turinoc asked, startled by the other lord’s outburst.
“A force field,” Quazetkic repeated. “That is why the guards at the canon seemed so unconcerned about security. There must be a force field around the area.”
Lord Keriee nodded his approval at Quazetkic’s suggestion. It made sense.
“A force field,” Havershom mused. He took a long pull from a cigarette. “Damn.” His enthusiasm dropped a few notches.
“This is the reason,” Quazetkic said. “I am sure of it.”
“That would explain it,” Turinoc rumbled. “But if there’s a force field around the canon, then how do they fire the thing?”
“They would have to lower it temporarily before every shot,” Keriee answered stroking his mustache thoughtfully.
“Precisely,” Quazetkic agreed. “Which means that it can be infiltrated.”
“Aye,” Havershom’s excitement was again on the rise. “Whew! Y’ had m’ worried fer a minute there, boyo.”
“It must go down for only a moment,” Turinoc said. “How are we going to turn it off long enough for us to get in and overwhelm the camp?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Quazetkic said. “But we have fifteen miles to figure it out.”

It was early afternoon and the lords had traveled about seven miles when Havershom spoke up.
“M’boyos, there’s but one wee t’ go aboot this.”
“What way would that be Havershom?” Quazetkic asked curious.
“One of us is gonna have t’ sneak through an’ disable th’ field so’s th’ rest canna rush in an’ take ov’r,” he replied.
“And who do you have in mind to do this?” Turinoc asked.
“Me,” Havershom lit a cigarette. “Of course.”
“You?” Turinoc almost fell off of his horse.
“An' I s’pose yer big arse’ll do it? Or how aboot ol’ Keriee? An’ who’d lead ya if Quazie got caught doin’ it?” Havershom puffed furiously on his cigarette.
“All right Havershom. You have made your point,” Quazetkic interrupted before the other man could work himself into a fit.
Keriee had allowed himself a small smile at being referred to as old but then he stroked his mustache and asked seriously, “How, exactly, do you turn the force field off?”
Havershom opened his mouth to say something and then shut it again.
Old huh? Keriee thought and smiled to himself.
But Quazetkic had the answer. “There is a small generator sitting next to the canon,” he said. “I thought that it was a part of it at first but now I am sure that it is the stabilizing generator for the field.”
“How can you be so sure?” Turinoc asked.
“Did you pay attention to the four operators?” Quazetkic asked.
“Not especially.” The big warrior had been looking at the werewolves and thinking about how nice it would be to take a few of their pelts home to hang on his walls.
“There is a sequence they go through every time they fire the canon,” Quazetkic ignored Turinoc’s lack of professionalism and continued. “And the last two things they do before the canon fires are fiddle with that machine and then the canon. So it must be the generator.”
“What about turning it back on?” Turinoc brought up.
“Fiddle?” Havershom asked and everyone ignored him.
“Automatic,” Keriee stated.
“That is what I figured.” Quazetkic was happy to have some support.
“Then why’s it not auto t’ fire in th’ first place?” Havershom was genuinely curious.
“I do not know,” Quazetkic said slightly irritated that the man had actually come up with a hole in his argument. “Nobody said goblins are intelligent,” he said and then felt childish.
“No, but Harmony is,” Turinoc growled and made Quazetkic feel even worse.
“It does not matter,” Quazetkic said. “The only thing that is a part of the firing sequence that is not attached to the canon is that machine. It has to be the generator.”
Keriee interrupted, “Not attached? That’s the reason right there. They turn off the generator and fire the canon; the generator’s on a timer and comes on automatically. They don’t have to mess with it again until they’ve finished the firing sequence, which may vary in how long it takes. It wouldn’t make any sense to have it turn off automatically because they may not be ready when it does.”
Keriee’s argument made sense to the lords and they rode in silence for a moment before Havershom spoke up. “Keriee, m’ boyo, tha’s t’ be th’ most words I’ve ever heard ya speak at once.”
The lords all chuckled at this statement and Keriee smiled.
“So how do you propose to turn off the generator?” Quazetkic resumed.
“If th’ thing turns on auto then it’ll have t’ be destroyed,” Havershom said. “Which means n’one has t’ sneak in, we’ll jus’ have t’ hit it wi’ sniper fire, then wi’ it destroyed all we have t’ do’s mop up th’ guards. Piece a cake.”
Turinoc applauded. “Bravo Havershom, master strategist, excellent plan!”
Havershom gave a slight bow from atop his horse. “Thank ya, m’ boyo.”
“Then it is settled?” Quazetkic asked. “We will hit the generator and then rush in with a full force assault?”
The lords all nodded their agreement.
“Good, and then once we have control of the canon I say we give Harmony a taste of his own medicine.”
Again the lords nodded. It was a wonderful idea.
During the following hours the lords rode in silence until Havershom cleared his throat to speak. He had been chain smoking the entire time and hacked up a glob of phlegm before saying, “Y’know we’re gonna have t’leave th’ men behind t’ destroy th’ generator. Those miscreants’ll hear us comin’ a mile away an’ we’ll never stanna chance t’ snipe it.”
“Good point Havershom,’ Turinoc said. “What do you think Quazetkic?”
“I think that we should take a small force and sneak in,” Quazetkic answered. “We will move in, destroy the generator, and then we will have to keep up a holding battle to enable the rest of the troops to join us.”
“Aye. Tha’ sounds like a sound plan,” Havershom agreed.
“Alright then, the three of us,” Quazetkic indicated Turinoc, Havershom, and himself. “Will go in first with two dozen men. Keriee, give us enough time to move in and destroy the generator then bring the rest of the troops. Sound good?” The other lords nodded in agreement so Quazetkic fell back to pick men for the infiltration team.
When they were three miles from the canon the three lords left Keriee and led the twenty-four men chosen as the infiltration team on to the enemy camp. It had been decided that Keriee would wait forty minutes and then follow with a quarter of their almost two hundred thousand men, thereby giving them enough time to destroy the generator before he arrived with an overkill amount of men to secure the area. Once the canon was secure the lords could then send someone back to lead in the rest of their soldiers
Satisfied that their plan was fairly foolproof Quazetkic lead the way to the enemy camp with a great amount of confidence and once they arrived he gave Havershom the signal to take position.


Havershom was well known for his skills as a marksman and had insisted that they could not trust the important task of the generators removal to anyone but himself. He moved out from the other men at a low crouch, his rifle kept close to his body, to seek a clear, uninterrupted view of the generator. He slowly crept through the trees until he gained higher ground. He found a spot with a clear shot and nestled down on the ground, seated the butt of his rifle against his shoulder and put his eye to the scope. He could see the generator below him as the three men repeated the firing sequence over and over.
Havershom tightened his grip on the guns stock and wrapped his finger around the trigger. He memorized the operator’s movements as the canon boomed. After running the thing for so long they had it down to a science and it did not take longer than fifteen minutes between each blast. From what Havershom could see most of that time was spent as some kind of recharge period and in all actuality the preparation only took four and a half minutes exactly, every time. And before the operators pressed the button to fire the canon they pressed the button to turn off the generator, with only a second and a half between each one, every time.
The three men began to run through the firing sequence again and just before the generator went off Havershom began to squeeze the trigger.


“What the hell is taking Havershom so long?” Turinoc growled. “They’re running through the sequence for the fourth time.”
“I do not know,” Quazetkic whispered. He had been thinking the same thing and inwardly he cursed giving the irresponsible lord the sniper position. “Keriee is on his way by now.”
Turinoc growled again, “Has been for at least the last fifteen minutes.”
“I know.”
A second later the canon fired, the generator exploded and the operators were flung backwards through the air.
“This is it!” Quazetkic yelled as he lunged forward and signaled the attack.
The soldiers surged out of the trees and ran full bore into the midst of their confused enemy.
Turinoc waded through men and goblins of lesser stature. Wielding his double bladed battle axe with deadly efficiency he headed towards the werewolves who howled to their feet to only stand a little taller than he. Havershom continued to fire his rifle form the concealing cover of the trees, downing foes with every shot. Quazetkic blasted away with his plasma pistol and saved his drawn sword for falling fiends at close quarters.
Confused though they may have been Harmony’s soldiers were quick to organize and soon gave the lords and their men a run for their money. Scimitar swinging goblins roused into battle frenzy were a main factor in the deaths of the soldiers of light while between Turinoc’s axe and Havershom’s sniper fire the werewolves were annihilated except for a handful that retreated into the evening.
Despite their robust efforts Harmony’s men did not stand a chance and by the time Lord Keriee marched in with his troops the battle was over and the canon won.
The lords gave no mercy and any foe who did not escape were slaughtered where they knelt begging for their miserable lives before being tossed on the funeral cairn that was being lit as Keriee arrived.
“Am I too late?” the old lord inquired of his fellows as he came to join them next to the fire.”
“Not at all, m’boyo,” Havershom smiled and lit a cigarette from a stick he had stuck in the fire. We’re jus’ gettin' ready t’ break out th’ mar’mallows.”
The other lords looked at him with disgust as he happily puffed away at the smoke and Quazetkic said, “Things went smoother than we thought they would.”
Turinoc laughed. “You should have seen the surprise on those bastard’s faces when that generator exploded. They were running around like chickens with their heads cut off.”
“Indeed?” Keriee stroked his mustache. “I would greatly have wished to witness that.”
“Aye, it was a riot,” Havershom agreed as he ginned like an idiot and lit his second cigarette.
“Well I think this is cause for celebration, “Turinoc boomed as he pulled out a small clay jug from somewhere in his armor. “Anyone care to join me in drink?”
The lords happily passed the bottle around until it was gone. Quazetkic stated his intention of finding some men to bring news of their victory to the rest of their soldiers and strode off to find a messenger.
“What about figuring out this thing and sending a few thank you shots to Harmony,” Turinoc mentioned when Quazetkic returned.
The lords all ambled over to the canon and admired the ingenuity that had gone into its design even if they did not admire the man who designed it.
“She’s a real beaut’,” Havershom let out a whistle. He rubbed his hand down the barrel. “S’how’s th’ guidance syst’m work ‘n this baby?”
“I am not sure,” Quazetkic said as he looked at the controls. “But I have an idea.”
“Well take yer time m’boyo,” Havershom grinned. “We d’nae want t’ hit our friends doon at th’ cap’tal.”
Quazetkic’s spirits were extremely high and he let Havershom’s remark slid. He returned the other lord’s smiles and said, “Do not worry. When I am done with this thing Harmony will be in for one hell of a surprise.”
The four lords all laughed wickedly at the thought.


Absinthe crashed noisily through the brush. Low branches from the surrounding trees whipped her in the face as she pushed them hastily aside.
“Run Abbie!” she heard Candlelite yell in the distance. “Run!”
The young woman redoubled her efforts, pushing her legs to pump even faster as she ran through the woods.
Absinthe’s headlong flight was abruptly brought up short by the appearance of a zombie directly in front of her. The creature gave an evil hiss and sprang on her. She released a roar that seemed far too big for a person of her size, grabbed the creature and flung it like a rag doll into the nearest tree before she started running again.
I can do this, she thought. I can get away. But then she was surrounded on all sides by zombies and all of her hopes were for nothing. She was trapped.
“You gave us quite a chase.” Absinthe turned to see the Archmagi Florencii standing outside the ring of her captors.
“Damn you!” Absinthe spat, breathing hard from her mad dash for freedom.
“No my dear, I am one of the blessed,” the Archmagi told her with the patience a mother has for a disobedient child. “Now come along. I’m sure your friends will want to know you’re safe.”
The zombies herded her along behind the Archmagi who led the way back to where the unnatural caravan waited. When they reached it the zombies threw her back into the wheeled cage that for the last few days she had shared with Candlelite.
“Abbie!” Candlelite squeezed her tight. “Don’t worry darling it was a good try.”
“I was so close!” she sobbed.
“I know you were,” he comforted her. “I know you were.”
The two of them had traveled with Florencii and her zombies for nearly a week now. They had been separated from their friends immediately after meeting up with the caravan and had not seen Jeshux or the others since being deposited in the rolling cage. Absinthe’s escape and subsequent recapture followed the erroneous relocking of the cage door by one of the zombies after it had been opened to deposit their meal. The creature had shut the door after leaving a broken wooden bowl full of a foul smelling slop on the cage floor and then failed to properly secure the catch afterwards.
Candlelite was on constant guard for any discrepancies and spotted the error directly after the creature’s departure. He wasted no time in contriving a distraction which enabled Absinthe to slip past the guards. She had made her way through the camp and into the woods before anyone noticed her disappearance and raised the alarm. Unfortunately her passage through the forest was anything but discreet and she had been easy enough to track, her recapture inevitable.
“What’re we going to do now?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” Candlelite confessed. “Something will happen though. Everything happens for a good reason even if we can’t see why when it’s happening.” He squeezed her gently.
“Promise?” she asked.
“I promise,” he promised her as he stared into her eyes intently.
Although both of them knew he was making a vow he had no way of keeping each took comfort in the nearness of the other and for the moment anyway, thing’s were good.


“Ah Jeshux. Thank you for joining me,” Florencii smiled warmly as the Commander General entered her tent flanked by two of her Zombie followers.
“It’s not like I had much choice,” Jeshux said sourly.
Florencii sighed deeply as she took the seat opposite him. “Very well Jeshux, I see you plan to make this difficult. Go ahead if you must.”
“Do you blame me Florencii?” Jeshux asked surprised. “How long have we known each other, three hundred- three hundred and fifty years? When did you start living in this fantasy land of yours?”
“Three hundred fifty-two years,” she answered fondly. “Do you remember when we met?”
“Of course. How could I forget?” he told her. “And don’t change the subject.”
“It was just before you split with Zakeriah to start up that mercenary outfit of yours,” Florencii reminisced, pretending she did not hear him.
“You make it sound like the mercenaries are some kind of phase or something.”
“Yes, well, perhaps it is,” she replied sadly and then smiled quickly. “Zakeriah had just promoted you to Commander General. You were so proud of yourself, strutting around in your new uniform with all of its ribbons and medals. You looked quite handsome.”
Jeshux found himself smiling despite the present circumstances. Memories danced through his head and he said, “If I recall it was at the royal ball that we first met. The one Zakeriah and the queen held to celebrate my new position.”
“That’s right,” Florencii affirmed.
“It seemed like everyone in the world had been invited.” Jeshux voice took on a dreamy quality and his eyes had a faraway look. “And out of everyone, you stood out as the most beautiful woman there.”
Florencii blushed and murmured quietly, “And after dinner you came straight over and asked me to dance.”
“You dance quite well. Ah, those were the days,” he told her. And then reality crashed back in. “Damnit Florencii, what the hell’s going on here? Why are you doing this?”
“Because Jeshux, whether you are willing to admit it or not, Harmony is the future. And to survive that future a person’s going to need power. I have power.” Her face took on a contorted expression, one filled with pain. “Unfortunately that power came with a price and now it’s time to pay that price.”
“But you don’t have to do this,” Jeshux pleaded with her. “I don’t agree with your actions but what’s done is done. You’re a good person Florencii, a person that at one time I might have spent the rest of my life with. Let us go. Please. Bring your unholy army to Zakeriah, side it with ours and let’s destroy the evil that Harmony represents forever!”
While he had talked he had leaned across the table and taken both of her hands in his, now Florencii moved hers and said in wonder, “Jeshux, how can you be so naïve? Harmony cannot be defeated. He’s already consumed one world and perverted its people to his will. He’s even stronger now than he was then. Did you know that he recovered Earth’s magic and although still primitive it proved to be stronger than our own?”
“I suspected as much,” he acknowledged. “But what of the prophecy? You have, right here in this camp, the harbingers of Harmony’s destruction and AnEerth’s salvation. Candlelite and Absinthe can save us but they are not just characters in a story! They need guidance, they need our help! Have you deviated so far down the corridor of darkness that you’ve lost sight of the light?”
“No,” Florencii told him firmly. “It’s you who have lost sight! You have become so blinded by hope, the misguided hope that these two anomalies can be them of whom the prophecy spoke, that you cannot see the facts.”
“And just what are the facts?” Jeshux asked levelly.
“The facts are that Harmony is the most powerful sorcerer in two worlds. If he were to be defeated it would have to be by a greater sorcery, of which none exists, and not by two wet behind the ears, shape shifting children.”
“That’s where you’re wrong Florencii,” Jeshux declared with conviction.
“For all of our sakes I hope you’re right Jeshux,” she confided. “But people do not survive on hope alone and I plan on surviving.”
Two zombies walked in carrying two covered trays, brought them to the table and placed them between the Archmagi and the Commander General.
“But let’s end this debate for now,” Florencii suggested. “It’s getting us nowhere and if you’re willing, I would like that we at least pretend peace so that we may enjoy one last meal together as friends.”
It was Jeshux turn to sigh and he said graciously, “I’d like that.” Then he poured wine from a flagon into two glasses and handed one to the Archmagi. He lifted his and proposed, “To the good times and the hope of more to come.”
“To the good times,” Florencii echoed as she lifted her glass.
And together they drank.


“But why has Harmony ceased firing?” Nefarious asked suspiciously.
“I do not know,” Zakeriah said. “And frankly I do not care. This is exactly the opportunity we need and I expect to make full use of it.”
“But he could start firing at any second,” Nefarious pointed out. “What if it he does and the shields are down?”
“Then I suppose we will all meet our makers a little sooner than if we had sat here and done nothing,” the king told him grimly.
As soon as he realized that Harmony’s canon had ceased its seemingly endless barrage Zakeriah had jumped to his feet and rushed from the room to find his chief advisor so that they might take advantage of the Dark Lord’s sudden charity. And now that he had found Nefarious not only was he not ready to make the teleportation attempt but he was dragging his feet and possibly wasting what could only be called a godsend.
“But shouldn’t we wait until the canon starts firing…?”
Zakeriah did not give him a chance to finish but rose up to full height and said with all of the kingly authority that he could muster, “No we should not. And if you say ‘but’ one more time instead of doing your job after I tell you to do something then I will find someone who will, bring you up on charges of treason and have you hanged.”
Nefarious opened his mouth to say something but again the king spoke, “I would strongly suggest that you think before you speak.”
Nefarious shut his mouth. He could see the iron look of determination in his lord’s eyes and finally he bowed and said, “Yes, my liege. I can have everything ready in ten minutes. Fifteen tops. I’m sorry but that’s as fast as I can do it.”
“Very well then, I suggest you get to it.”
Nefarious bowed again and said, “We’ll be assembled on the moon tower.” Then he left.
The moon tower was the tallest spire of the Dirsellian Palace and had an open top. It was located off of the royal observatory and was used by people from all over AnEerth as the ideal spot to view the stars in that hemisphere.
The king took off in the direction of the tower and hoped that fifteen minutes would not be too long. It had taken him at least that long to find Nefarious and get him to cooperate. He admitted to himself that the man had a good point and it would be very bad indeed if Harmony started the bombardment again while the shields were down.
Seven minutes later Zakeriah entered the moon tower and promptly three minutes after that Nefarious entered with two other individuals who trailed fifty other people behind them. Thankfully the towers gigantic size was easily able to accommodate all of these people comfortably.
“What is this circus?” Zakeriah growled as Nefarious approached him with the two others.
“Your highness, this is Jirseka and Pwami,” Nefarious introduced the two. “They are currently the two most talented teleporters we have among us.”
Jirseka was a small woman with graying hair. She reached out and shook the king’s hand. “It’s a pleasure my lord.”
“Likewise,” Zakeriah replied eagerly.
“Highness,” Pwami greeted with a curt bow. He was also short, with the features and accent of the people from the highlands of the eastern continent.
The king returned his bow. “Welcome,” he said in the man’s native tongue.
Pwami looked surprised but did not question the king’s ability to speak his language.
Zakeriah asked, “And the rest of these people?” He gestured towards the others who had separated into two groups, one consisting of forty people while the other was made up of the remaining ten.
“The support teams,” Nefarious explained. “No one magician of any caliber is talented enough to transport so many people over long distances alone.”
“Of course,” Zakeriah said. “That’s why you have four times as many people in one group as the other because Jeshux mercenaries are a force four times smaller than that of the four lords.”
“That is correct my lord,” Jirseka smiled winsomely. “I’ll be directing the larger of the two groups as I am the more talented of us two.” She spoke humbly, merely stating a fact.
“Indeed. The lady Jirseka is most capable,” Pwami agreed.
“Excellent,” Zakeriah said. “I appreciate what the two of you are doing but time may be very limited here, so if we could proceed.”
“Of course your highness,” Nefarious clapped his hands together and began to rub them together vigorously. “”On your command I will drop our shields and as soon as everyone is clear I will raise them again.”
Jirseka and Pwami had both walked over to their respective transport parties and waited patiently. Both appeared totally calm as did the men and women they stood with.
Pwami gave a slight nod to Jirseka and she said to Nefarious, “We are ready.”
The powerful mage nodded and concentrated an enormous portion of his will and faith on interrupting the electrical connections in the three massive brains that comprised the super computer matrix sustaining the shields. “Sheld auf!” he shouted and instantly a faint light began to grow around the two groups of teleporters.
While of the same basic color the two lights were slightly different in shade from each other and one seemed to shimmer a bit as if it were being emitted at a different frequency. Both lights grew steadily in intensity until a peak was finally reached and with a sudden blinding flash the top of the moon tower became illuminated like a giant torch.
Then a familiar boom sounded and as Zakeriah blinked away the afterimages floating in his vision he thought, Oh no the canon!
“Sheld aun!” Nefarious shouted.
“We’re still alive!” Zakeriah yelled with his ears ringing. He had not realized how loud the repercussion was safe in the confines of the palace. “How is that possible?”
Nefarious rushed over to the low wall of stone surrounding the perimeter of the towers top. “Look my lord!” he too shouted deafly but he also pointed out over the edge.
Another boom sounded shaking the top of the tower but the king ignoring it ran to the towers edge and what he saw stunned him. Out on the plain Harmony’s army seemed to stretch on for miles and at the armies extreme outer edge were two smoking craters about a quarter mile in diameter. One of them had missed while the other had partially impacted the army and completely vaporized the bodies of all who were touched.
A brilliant lavender beam suddenly pierced through the heavens and struck further into the armies midst. There was a deafening boom and another crater appeared. Then the beam disappeared.
“They’re shooting at themselves!” Nefarious was amazed.
“Come Nefarious!” Zakeriah shouted as he turned away from the carnage below and headed for the stairs that led down from the moon tower’s parapet. “This might just be the chance we’ve been waiting for!”
“How much time do we have until you drop the shields for the teleporters return?” Zakeriah asked as they ran. His hearing had just started to return a little.
“Approximately twenty-six minutes!”
“Excellent!” The king was ecstatic and his eyes gleamed fiercely. If Nefarious had seen that gleam in the eyes of his king he would have shivered with fear.


Absinthe’s first glimpse of the army through the trees made her gasp in disbelief. Never in her life had she seen so many people gathered in one spot. It seemed to her that it went on forever.
“Oh my God!” Candlelite said equally stunned by the sight.
It had taken them six days of hard travel to get them where they were.
Earlier that morning the Archmagi had paid her daily visit to the Chosen Ones. She told them that they would be in the sorcerer’s camp by nightfall and now the zombie army made its final descent out of the mountains and into the foothills. It would not be long now and they would meet with the unbelievably large army that Harmony had gathered on the plains around the AnEerth capital city Dirsellia.
“Perfect,” Absinthe said to Candlelite right after the Archmagi had left them. “We'll be center stage attraction. Everyone there will see us change.”
“It won’t be so bad,” Candlelite responded. “At least everyone there will be used to the horror.”
“I suppose,” Absinthe said sadly. “You know, in a way, I was hoping that we’d never get there.” And when Candlelite looked at her strangely she said, “Well I know that we’re stuck in this cage and all but the Archmagi has been awfully nice to us. I almost feel like we’ve become friends or something.”
“Or something, is about right,” Candlelite agreed. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call her a friend but you’re right, she is very polite and treats us well. I almost feel bad for her.”
“Yeah, you can tell she thinks that she hasn’t any other choice but to do what she’s doing.” Absinthe took a deep breath and said with determination, “Candlelite, we really do have to stop Harmony. If he can make such a nice person as the Archmagi act so badly then just imagine what he’ll do to everyone else.”
“I know,” Candlelite agreed. “We will. Somehow, we will.”
And now as they rolled their way down through the hills, periodically catching a glimpse of the army below, both of them wondered just what it was that they could do to stop something so impressively huge.
It was just after midday when the undead caravan reached the point where hills stopped and plains began. The plains were strangely level and in some spots nearly as smooth as glass. Both of the caged prisoners were surprised to find that the surface of these areas were almost reflective and quickly concluded that this must be the work of the arcane energy bomb. This firsthand look at the weapon’s destructive power made them glad that there was still a city for Harmony to lay siege to.
“Oh, the poor people,” Absinthe said horrified. “All of that beautiful country gone. Do you think it'll ever be the same again?”
“I don’t know.” Candlelite put an arm around her shoulders. “I hope so.”
As the afternoon wore on the black strip that was the dark sorcerer’s army grew steadily larger on the horizon. So did the city and palace that was the capital and central seat of government for the entire planet.
Candlelite and Absinthe’s anxiety of their arrival mounted higher the closer the caravan got to the army. They both eagerly watched the sun make its way across the sky and tried to calculate their chances of making it before nightfall. It was looking like the Archmagi’s estimate of the morning was going to be a little slower than the actuality and they were relieved at the thought of maybe getting settled in their enemies camp before their appointment with the night.
The sun was just hitting the high peaks of the western mountains when the caravan reached the periphery of Harmony’s encampment. Rays of light streamed through a diffuse layer of clouds causing them to glow blood red and casting an orange glow about the land.
The Archmagi was out in front of the column and was met by a small group of warriors consisting mostly of scimitar clad goblins from Harmony’s personal guard as well as a few men and two werewolves.
The werewolves started to whine as they approached the caravan and when they caught sight of Candlelite and Absinthe where they had stopped inside their cage the two animals began to growl and bark furiously. Their goblin masters were hard pressed to quiet them and eventually they were led off.
After a few words to the Archmagi the goblins strode away seemingly satisfied. Florencii gave a couple short commands to her zombies and then she too left, walking towards a big black silk tent in the center of the camp.
Most of the zombies shuffled over to an area that seemed pre-designated for them while a small group led the horse drawn cage to a cleared spot next to the big silk tent.
The sun sank faster and faster while Candlelite and Absinthe waited, for what, they did not know. Just as the last of the evening rays were disappearing behind the western mountains the tent flap was pulled aside and the Archmagi exited. She did not appear to be very happy but she kept her head held high, full of pride and her posture dignified.
She walked briskly over to the cage and managed to smile. “Lord Harmony will be with you shortly.”
“He’d better hurry,” Candlelite said. “Or the conversation’s going to be pretty one sided.”
“A monologue,” Absinthe added. “I think.”
“Yeah, a monologue,” Candlelite confirmed and he squeezed her hand slightly so that she smiled at him.
Suddenly it seemed as if the entire army went silent. What had been a steady background noise of conversation, laughter, and curses suddenly stopped; and while the arcane energy canon still boomed periodically, the sound of the tent flap as it swished open drew everyone’s attention.
A tall man stood engulfed by the blackness of the entryway, silhouetted by an eerie red glow that pulsed rhythmically from within the tents interior. He was dressed in a loose fitting black robe that reached all the way down to the ground and trailed in the dirt. The hood was thrown back to reveal a shaved skull lightly dusted with black stubble. His face was thin, some would call it gaunt, and his two eyes seemed to contain no irises but were all pupil. They burned with the vacuum usually associated with black holes above a thin, hooked nose. His hands were clasped but hidden inside the sleeves of his robes which crawled and moved as if they had a life of their own.
“Behold,” the Archmagi intoned solemnly. “The Dark Lord Harmony, sorcerer supreme, ruler of Earth and Master Grand Mage of all the unholy arts!”
Harmony radiated energy like a hundred million candle power spotlight. It poured from every pore of his body and was only overshadowed by the presence of inhuman evil that involuntarily produced a sense of primal dread within everyone in the immediate area. All of the organic life that was gathered within the entire army took an involuntary step backwards and every animal let out a call of pure terror.
Only Candlelite and Absinthe stood their ground. They refused to flinch or cower in the face of such raw and untamed power. The only outward sign of the unbridled fear that they felt inside was a tightening of her hand in his.
When Harmony spoke his voice, although soft and low pitched, carried across the entire camp and conveyed his absolute authority with every word.
“So these are the so called ‘Chosen Ones’,” he said with contempt and then crossed the distance from the tent to the cage with startling swiftness. His feet seemed not even to move, as if he glided rather than walked.
“Destined to save AnEerth from the scourge of my evil,” he continued, eying the caged duo thoughtfully. “You don’t look very threatening.” Then he smiled an evil smile before staring meaningfully towards the west and the fading light that was little more than a faint illumination seen from behind the lowest of the magnificent peaks.
The light fully vanished and Harmony turned once more to give his full attention to his captives. “Why don’t the two of you entertain us with a show,” he suggested, venom dripping from every syllable.
Candlelite scowled down at the sorcerer. Black waves of hate literally poured from his gaze and washed over Harmony who seemed to revel in the young man’s anger. The red aura had followed the sorcerer and seemed to swell as it absorbed the negative emotions.
Absinthe turned pleading eyes towards the Archmagi who had tried to fade into the shadows. All of her pride vanished under the young woman’s gaze and Florencii hung her head in shame.
That was when the transformation began.
First the spasms hit.
Both Candlelite and Absinthe arched their backs, going rigid in perfect unison. An inarticulate growl began deep in Candlelite’s throat and Absinthe let loose a shrill scream that would have shattered crystal had any been around.
They hit their knees at the same time.
Saliva began to run freely from Absinthe’s mouth. Her teeth were clenched tight, almost to the point of breaking. Her scream evolved to a growl that grew to dwarf the one still being issued by Candlelite. Coarse brown hair began to sprout from her body just like little saplings pushing their way from the ground.
Candlelite, his whole body rigid and his back still arched, lurched forward onto his hands. His fingers curled and uncurled involuntarily, lengthening and thickening with the popping and cracking of his knuckles. When the first spasm hit he had closed his eyes, now they popped open to stare directly into Harmony’s and they had gone completely blood red.
With the sound of tearing cloth the two shape-shifter’s bodies began bulging and writhing as if their skins contained some kind of parasitic creatures struggling to escape. They began to pant from the tremendous strain their bodies were being put through and then the howling and growling began anew as their bodies contorted into the final stages of their transformation.
After a few more minutes of horror their anguish faded and the giant rolling cage no longer contained a young man and woman but a large grizzly bear and a monstrous werewolf.
“Bravo, absolutely spectacular!” Harmony declared, clapping his hands enthusiastically when it was obvious that the action was over.
Candlelite could not contain himself and lunged at the sorcerer through the bars of the cage, slashing the air just centimeters from Harmony’s face.
Harmony did not flinch and he started laughing contemptuously at the werewolf’s howl of frustration. “My dear boy,” he said emphasizing the noun. “I just don’t see the threat.” He turned and bowed to Absinthe. “Madam,” he said, then turned and glided back into his tent.


“Woo hoo!” Havershom shouted as the first crater formed on the arcane energy canon’s digital tracking display. “Tha’ll give’m somethin’ t’ think aboot!”
He and Quazetkic had messed around with the canon’s targeting system for about thirty minutes before they felt confident enough to fire their first shot and although they had missed the enemy completely they were still pleased to have gotten as close as they had. They made some adjustments to the guidance controls and fired again this time hitting a little closer.
“Almost there,” Havershom nudged Quazetkic in

the ribs and earned himself a short glare from the other lord.
Again the two lords made some minute adjustments to the guidance controls when they were suddenly blinded by an intense light from behind them. They covered their eyes and turned to face the source of the light.
“Wha'th’ell?” Havershom shouted.
Although it had appeared suddenly the light took its time disappearing. It slowly dissipated to reveal a shadowy mass at its center and the shadowy mass soon became many shapes which then became distinct figures. Once the light had vanished completely a large group of men and women stood in the clearing.
Quazetkic did a quick count of the new arrivals and came up with forty-one. He looked at Havershom, who stood stunned with his mouth hanging open, and said, “Keep the canon firing. I’ll deal with this.”
“But,” Havershom began to protest. Quazetkic turned and glared at him. “Never mind,” he said and turned back to adjust the canon’s targeting system.
Quazetkic approached the people while a robed woman with graying hair made her way towards him. He opened his mouth to greet the woman when the canon boomed.
“Woo hoo, direct hit!” Havershom hollered.
Quazetkic turned back towards the canon. “We got them?” he yelled over to Havershom.
“Shore did m’boyo,” Havershom replied.
“Great! Keep it up,” Quazetkic told him. He turned back to the lady who stood waiting patiently. “Good day madam. I am Quazetkic, lord of Longiglow. What may I do for you?”
The graying lady returned the lords bow and said, “I am the witch Jirseka and this is my teleport support team.” She indicated the group behind her. “We’ve been sent by his royal majesty to transport you and your men to the world capital so that you may aid in the war against the sorcerer Harmony.”
Quazetkic raised an eyebrow in surprise and asked, “The king, eh? And when are we to leave?”
Meanwhile Turinoc and Keriee had joined him, curious about the strangers and excited about Havershom’s cries of success. “What’s going on?” Turinoc rumbled.
“Jirseka, these are the lords Turinoc and Keriee,” Quazetkic began introductions. “Keriee, Turinoc, this is the witch Jirseka and her teleporters. She has been sent here by the king to transport us back to the capital.”
“Great!” Turinoc enthused while Keriee stroked his mustache. “When do we go?”
“I do not know,” Quazetkic confessed. “I had just posed that same question when you got here.”
“We’ll be ready to leave in approximately twenty minutes,” Jirseka told the lords.
“I can have my men ready in half that,” Turinoc said.
“So can I,” Keriee affirmed.
“Got ‘em agin!” Havershom whooped after another boom from the canon.
“Havershom,” Quazetkic yelled. “Take a minute and gather your men. We are leaving in twenty minutes!”
“Aye, aye Quazie!” Havershom jumped down from the canon’s control platform and ran over to confer with his soldiers.
Within ten minutes all of the almost two hundred thousand men and women under the command of the four lords were gathered and awaiting departure. Jirseka explained the king’s plan for a form of attack that would generate a sandwich effect and although these soldiers were going from inaction to full battle ready in a matter of minutes they were anxious and eager for the confrontation to start.
It had been decided that Havershom would stay on at the mountain camp with a small force of two hundred warriors to hold and continue the barrage upon Harmony with his canon. He gave Quazetkic a thumb up from his position at the canon’s controls to assure him that they were ready.
As the twenty minutes from the time of their arrival came to a close Jirseka drew her support group around her and motioned for the lords to have their soldiers gather tightly about them. The soldiers shuffled in as close as they could and feeling like sardines in a can the lords signaled their readiness.
The last few minutes ticked by and Jirseka said, “Ok, let’s do this.”
“I hope the king’s ready for us or we’re screwed!” Turinoc yelled and began to laugh uproariously. He gripped his great, great grandfather’s battle worn war axe tightly in both hands and lifted it over his head as a gentle blue light began to emanate from the teleporters.
Thinking much the same thing and praying for the safety of his soldiers, Quazetkic closed his eyes and prepared himself for the disorientation associated with instantaneous matter transportation.
The last thing he heard as the blue light enveloped them was Havershom as he shouted, “Good luck m’boyos!” And then there was the void.


It took Zakeriah most of the half hour to strap himself into his armor before he was able to join his army and he rode into the city commons just inside the main gates and took his place at the head of his warriors with only minutes to spare. He scowled at the queen as she sat astride her own war horse and after she returned it with a smirk he turned to face the waiting soldiers.
Raising his hand in what was a greeting and a gesture for silence Zakeriah addressed the assembled army, “My loyal subjects, my friends, in a matter if minutes we will face the greatest opponent ever to threaten the safety and security of our beloved planet, a man so vile that he was hunted down and forced to flee to another world. Well this man, Harmony,” he spat the sorcerer’s name from his mouth as if it had a bad taste. “This man has returned. He has returned stronger than ever and now sits camped outside these very gates. Harmony wishes to enslave us all, our women, our children, our parents and for those of us who would oppose him he would visit certain death! Are we going to just sit here and allow him to do this?”
The soldiers before him began to murmur angrily.
“What’s that?” Zakeriah asked as he cupped a hand to his ear.
“No,” the crowd answered.
“I can’t hear you!” the king yelled. “What did you say?”
“No!” the soldiers shouted deafeningly.
“I did not think so!” Putting his helmet on his head he turned his horse and called to the sentries who stood to either side of the gates. “Open the gates!”
Queen Mega’N reined her horse next to the king’s and leaned to whisper to him, “Short and to the point my love.”
Zakeriah kept his eyes turned to the massive portal in front of him so that she could not see the anguish her presence caused him and said, “Please Mega’N, reconsider your place here.”
“I will not, love,” she said gently. “If you are to fight this reckless battle then my place is with you.”
“So be it,” Zakeriah said although clearly angered by his queen’s answer. As the gate eased to a halt his sword blazed to life with blinding blue flame as he drew it and he gave it a flick to Nefarious to drop the shields. “Forward!” he ordered as the gates dropped and spurred his horse through them.
The king’s army thundered as it followed his blazing sword forward. Nearly four hundred thousand of the five hundred thousand troops stationed in the city spilled onto the desolate plain and aimed for the heart of Harmony’s encampment. A full third of those four hundred thousand were mounted and spread out to create a driving wedge which would cleave through the Dark Lords unsuspecting warriors, allowing room for the footmen who followed to strike deep into the midst of the enemy army.
With a stirring war cry the horsemen impacted the outer perimeter of Harmony’s camp. The only thing louder than the crackle of the plasma swords were the screams of the misfortunate that got in front of them. Within moments thousands of Harmony’s soldiers lay irrigating the blasted ground with their blood and in no time the air hung heavy with the smell of scorched atmosphere and burnt flesh.
It was a four second slaughter before Harmony’s men managed to arm themselves. Swords and rifles came to bear and the counterattack began. Desperate to stop the horsemen who were opening a path through the middle of their camp snipers took up positions and began to open fire. Due to magic induced resistance most of their bullets were deflected harmlessly by the kingdom’s armor but for every dozen that failed one would drop a man from his saddle and there were thousands of snipers.
Zakeriah spotted the giant, black silk tent and assumed that it belonged to Harmony. With Mega’N at his side he steered his charging horse soldiers towards it and though riders fell they still powered their way through the center of the army while the footmen trailed behind ferociously engaging the enemy in hand to hand combat.
About that moment brilliant light flashed at the outer perimeter of Harmony’s army opposite to the king and his men. A couple of seconds later a familiar boom sounded and a canon blast rocked the dark army. Then the army began to respond to some kind of disturbance from the vicinity of the brilliant light and there came the distinct chatter of machine gun fire interspersed with the vvvwhumep of plasma weapons.
“It’s the other lords!” Mega’N cried as she cleaved through the helmeted head of a goblin sub-commander.
Then in an area next to the arriving lords another blinding light flashed and faded out to reveal another group of soldiers that immediately engaged in the fighting.
“And there are the mercenaries!” Zakeriah shouted back to his wife.
Spurring his horse to even greater excesses the king pushed towards the black tent. He was still a quarter of a mile away from it when a figure emerged and began to wave its arms frantically.
Zakeriah saw his black robed adversary dodging his way through the throng of battling soldiers, snarled and forgot all about the fighting around him. “Harmony!” he yelled as he plunged towards his foe completely heedless of all others.
“No Zakeriah!” Mega’N tried to caution her husband too late as the king galloped off.
Weaving such spells of savagery as were never before seen on AnEerth Harmony destroyed dozens of the opposition at a time and except for a narrowing of his eyes he seemed not to notice the giant war horse that came to ride him down.
“Harmony!” the king cried again, infuriated at the sorcerer’s seeming lack of concern over his imminent demise. Then as he was almost on top of the vile magician he gave a resounding scream of victory and brought his flaming sword about in a sweeping arc, his intent to separate Harmony’s head from his shoulders. Finally lifting his gaze to meet the blood crazed eyes of the king Harmony sneered and calmly raised one hand to intercept the scorching blade. At the last moment sanity returned to Zakeriah and with the barest hesitation as his sword collided with the sorcerer’s hand, he wondered how he had ever thought he would defeat Harmony so easily.

The brilliant light faded and lord Quazetkic found himself on the outskirts of an impossibly large army. Having seen it from afar he knew its size and had mentally prepared himself for the enormity of it but now that he was right next to it he found he was slightly overwhelmed.
“Yeearrgh!” Turinoc suddenly yelled which drug Quazetkic from his stupor.
Shaking the teleportation cobwebs from his head Quazetkic watched Turinoc rush toward Harmony’s horde with the rest of their men swarming past close on his heels. Machine guns began to chatter and the surprised soldiers of evil began sprouting holes and hitting the ground. Shouldering his own rifle Quazetkic picked off some targets of his own with hot plasma. Vvvwhumep! Vvvwhumep! The smells of scorched flesh reached his nostrils as the wind changed and caused him to grimace. Then Turinoc decapitate a goblin with his axe and Quazetkic grimaced again as gouts of blood gushed from the creature’s neck. Shaking his head again the dismayed lord managed to dislodge his humanity and a glint of cold steel lit in his eyes as he clenched his teeth and burnt a man’s flesh from his skull at point blank range.
“All right Quazetkic!” Turinoc shouted. “Way to give it to the dirty bastards!”
“Woo hoo!” Quazetkic whooped as he let the madness of war fall across his mind like a soft, black goose down comforter.
As he was surrounded by a mob of men and goblins Quazetkic threw down his rifle, pulled his sword and pistol and thoroughly battle crazed leapt into close quarters combat. Thumbing the safety on his pistol off the weapon began emitting a high pitched whine as its plasma cell charged and swinging his sword in a wide arc he flipped a semi-hidden switch which caused the blade to burst with the white hot heat of super charged particles just before it swept through the neck and one shoulder of a stray werewolf that suddenly burst through the circle of his other attackers.
At almost that very moment another surge of brilliant light signaled the arrival of Jeshux mercenaries.


Having reformed their ranks since the separation in Gontiluna and the scattering in the snowstorm the mercenaries had been traveling towards the capital and making steady progress at it when they encountered the teleporters sent by the king. After they had been given the scoop by the teleporters the mercenaries quickly prepared for battle and settled in to wait out the half hour.
It only took a split second before they found themselves part of a full scale war. Weapons shouldered the seasoned warriors quickly picked out targets and just as quickly began to pick them off. Raining a steady barrage of death upon their adversaries and maintaining precise battle formation the mercenaries marched steadily into the outer perimeter of Harmony’s army.
“It’s Jeshux mercenaries!” a cry sounded out of the chaos.
Spotting the man who shouted and turning almost to a man towards recognizable soldiers, the mercenary force of almost twenty thousand immortals changed course slightly so that they would intersect the fighting men and women of the four lords. The man who heralded their arrival fought his way over to the mercenaries. He was armed with a plasma pistol and an ion sword and was covered in blood, none of which appeared to be his own.
“Where is Jeshux?” he shouted.
“We don’t know,” the mercenary closest to him answered.
“Who is in charge then?” the man had a look of panic briefly touch his features.
“Lieutenant Tanner!” the mercenary pointed to another merc.
“Thank you!” the man shouted and fought his way over to the lieutenant.
Reaching the mercenaries side the man with the plasma pistol shouted, “Lieutenant Tanner?” The mercenary nodded in assent. “Lord Quazetkic,” the men told him. “Am I to understand that the Commander General is not with you?”
“That’s correct, sir!” Tanner acknowledged. “I was separated from him during a blizzard almost two weeks ago!”
“And the Chosen Ones?”
“Lost with the Commander General!” Tanner replied.
“Damnit!” Quazetkic fumed. “Get your men and come with me! We have to warn the King!”
“Yes, sir!” Tanner turned away and shouted to the other mercenaries. “Everyone to me!”
Following Quazetkic the mercenary soldiers merged with the lord’s warriors and fought their way deeper into Harmony’s army.
Spotting Turinoc where the huge lord wielded his blood spattered war axe with berserker fury Quazetkic battled his way over to him and yelled, “Turinoc!”
Spinning with a grace rarely found in even the most skilled of ballet dancers, let alone in a man of his size, Turinoc fixed Quazetkic with a crazed look and brought his axe around to strike. Recognition stopped his killing stroke at the last second though and the big man guffawed, “Quazetkic! Where’ve you been man? You’re missing all the fun!”
Ignoring the other man’s grim enthusiasm Quazetkic shouted, “We have a problem! We need to find the king! Jeshux and the Chosen Ones are not with the mercenaries!”
“Follow me!” Turinoc shouted with complete seriousness as he instantly assessed the situation. “The king was over this way!”
Following Turinoc to where he had last seen the king the combined might of the lords and mercenaries struggled valiantly through the violent masses of Harmony’s army towards a large, black silk tent.
“There he is!” Turinoc pointed at an armored warrior astride a charging war horse.
“And there is Harmony!” Quazetkic pointed out the black robed sorcerer where he blazed his opponents away with his foul magic.
The king also spotted the magician and the two lords watched in horror as he fervently spurred his horse toward Harmony. With his flaming sword swinging around him madly the king cut a path to the dark sorcerer. Men, goblins, and werewolves fell like puppets with their strings cut before the king’s wrath and suddenly there he was with his horse rearing over Harmony’s head. As the horse’s blood soaked hooves dropped to the ground so did the king’s sword drop towards Harmony’s head. At the last possible moment Harmony raised his hand to meet the enflamed blade of the king’s sword. Blade and hand collided with a thunderclap and a flash of white and orange light as bright as the sun. The horse died in an instant, its whinny cut short, and the king was flung backward off of his mount and through the air. The sound and light faded simultaneously and revealed Harmony standing unscathed with a wicked grin upon his face and a mad gleam in his eyes. Time stood still.


Bright and clear the day dawned over the army of the Dark Sorcerer. Candlelite and Absinthe’s transformation did not pull the same crowd as it had the night before but there were still quite a few spectators, although Harmony failed to put in an appearance. Apparently the magician had already seen everything he needed to see.
It was late morning before they were given anything to eat. The Archmagi brought their food personally but did not stay to chat. She could not meet either of their gazes and would not answer any of their questions.
The morning turned to afternoon as the two of them sat in their cage. Neither of them said much, only sat and counted each blast of the arcane energy canon. When they did talk it was only to remark upon the diminishing time between blasts.
From the confines of their cage the two captives had, what under normal circumstances would be considered, a picturesque view of the palace. They could see the many turrets and spires as they rose magnificently into the air behind the intimidating bulk of the city walls, trying vaingloriously to reach the sky with their impressive height. The majority of these grand towers were roofed. Dozens of multicolored pennants hung from flagpoles perched precariously upon the pinnacles of these roofs, flapping and fluttering in the breezes that somehow still penetrated the ever present shimmer that identified the presence of the dome created by the shields.
Time passed at a slow crawl and eventually the afternoon wore on until the sun was passed its zenith. The repetitious boom of the arcane energy canon became just another of the many sounds associated with their surroundings. Its rhythmic cadence served as a counterpoint to the less intense noises that emanated from throughout the rest of the camp.
Candlelite and Absinthe’s boredom was reaching the peak of its crescendo when they both realized that it had been over double the amount of time that had become normal between blasts. They began to discuss what this could mean when they both witnessed the dome around the city wink out of existence and the very distinct flash of teleportation light burst from the top of the tallest of the palaces towers, a giant open roofed one that had a short, broken-spaced wall all around it
No longer bored they had barely begun to discuss what this meant when the canon finally boomed. This time though the blast fell dramatically short of the palace and surrounding city. It hit just outside the shifting borders of the besieging army and left a smoking crater in the surface of the blasted plain.
“What the hell!” Candlelite ejaculated as he jumped to his feet and gripped the bars of the cage. Absinthe was by his side in an instant and together they watched the tendrils of smoke that rose from the impact site and wafted away on a gentle breeze.
Bedlam erupted, sending ripples throughout the encamped army like a rock dropped into a pond. Then another blast pierced the sky and cratered the plain.
Eyes wide with wonder Absinthe whispered, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” Candlelite shook his head in disbelief.
Candlelite and Absinthe waited in breathless anticipation for nearly five minutes before another blast devastated an area just within the army’s boundaries. What was bedlam before now became panic induced chaos as Harmony’s soldiers scattered from this new crater.
“They’re firing at themselves,” Absinthe said mystified.
“No, we’re firing at them,” Candlelite said with sudden insight. He turned and grabbed Absinthe in a tight hug. “We have the canon! We’re firing on them!” Candlelite began jumping up and down, lifting Absinthe off of the ground.
Smiling Absinthe squealed with delight and began to laugh, infected be Candlelite’s excitement.
“We’re firing at them!” she echoed.
“Yes. We’re firing at them!” Candlelite repeated and joined in the laughter.
But as soon as the reverse bombardment started it stopped and did not resume.
“What’s going on now?”
“I don’t know.” Candlelite’s voice was a near whisper.
The minutes ticked by and the only sounds were the bustle of the army around them as it tried to reorganize. Harmony did not seem to be concerned by the sudden assault by his own canon as he had not even put in an appearance out of curiosity and was still hidden away in his tent.
About thirty minutes and six craters after the flash of light from atop the palace tower the city gates ponderously began to open outward. Absinthe gasped. Candlelite quickly clapped a hand over her mouth and looked around. Amazingly no one in the army appeared to notice.
“Not a word,” Candlelite breathed.
Absinthe nodded her head and he removed his hand.
“The gates,” she whispered.
He nodded and looked around again as the gates came to a halt, wide open. Still no one appeared to have notice and he returned his attention to the city gates. He could just discern movement from within their depths and then a wave of knights came charging out of them. And still Harmony’s army remained oblivious.
By the time the horde that surrounded the city began to react to the charging knights it was too late. With a resounding war cry the mounted men crashed through their outer perimeter and began driving a wedge through their disorganized ranks.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Candlelite yelled and jumped around in the cramped space of the cage, unable to suppress his elation.
From the gates soldiers on foot marched out to trail behind their mounted comrades.
“Here comes the Calvary!” Absinthe could hardly suppress her giggles as she clapped her hands together.
“I thought they were the Calvary.” Candlelite pointed to the knights and the two of them fell apart laughing as they hugged each other in relief. They were going to be saved.
It did not take long for Harmony’s soldiers to organize and launch a counterattack. The captives watched in horror as snipers took positions and began trying to pick off the knights, without much apparent success.
“Look!” Absinthe startled Candlelite out of his observation of the battle and he turned just in time to see a bright flash fade away on the outer perimeter. Where the flash had been were what seemed to be more soldiers. After a brief hesitation the newcomers began to head towards the advancing knights, attacking Harmony’s army as they moved forward.
Within two minutes of the first flash a second flash burst into existence. Actually seeing it happen Candlelite immediately recognized it as the same type of phenomenon as what had occurred earlier on top of the palace tower. The second flash faded away much the same as the first had and revealed yet another large group of soldiers.
Before he could say anything Absinthe spoke his mind. “Those are the mercenaries!” she exclaimed.
The mercenaries began firing efficiently into the enemy opposition and started a swift infiltration of Harmony’s army which eventually brought them to converge with the force from the first flash. Once the two smaller armies met they began to steadily battle their way towards the black tent and consequently Candlelite and Absinthe’s cage.
On the inner side of the camp the knights had altered their course slightly and were also headed for the black tent. The multitude of foot soldiers followed closely behind them.
With the two forces converging on him Harmony finally stepped smoothly from his tent.
Completely unperturbed by the chaos around him the evil sorcerer turned his soulless black eyes on his two little jailbirds and spoke, his words came to them clearly. “Now isn’t this something,” he remarked with a cold smile. Then he advised, “You two should watch this.” And then he strode boldly forth into the fray.
Crackling bursts of energy burst from the sorcerer’s fingertips as he waved his hands about in complex gestures. Knights and horses began falling left and right as his arcane powers enveloped them. The horses fell dead with the knights charred inside their armor.
“Har-mon-yyy!” the lead knight cried as he bore down on the magician while wielding a giant sword aflame with white fire with a savage fury fueled by maniacal strength. Absinthe and Candlelite identified the knight by his voice as King Zakeriah but Harmony paid little attention to the charging monarch and continued his savage onslaught, bringing down dozens of horsemen at a time with his evil spells.
Finally with one last surge of fighting prowess the king broke through the swell of surrounding soldiers and confronted Harmony directly. Spurring his mount forward he brought his flaming sword down in a fiery arc of destruction aimed at the sorcerer’s head. At the last moment Harmony’s eyes narrowed and his left hand rose to intersect the swords deadly descent. His hands collided with the blade and burst into amber lightning which engulfed the white fire of the sword, consumed it, and channeled it back through the weapon to the king. With a strangled cry of dismay the king absorbed the sorcerer’s magic and was blown backwards off of his horse and through the air to land on the ground in a fine cloud of dust over thirty feet away. Without missing a beat Harmony sidestepped the still charging horse and continued to lay waste to his enemies.
Candlelite and Absinthe cringed in horror as they watched a triumphant smile of malignant evil transfix the magician’s lips.


Twenty-four hours after the failed attack on Harmony Jeshux, along with McAriicoys, Max Kimbal, Vohrmint, and Sefu Atarle, found himself seated around the great table in the throne room of the imperial palace. The five of them had been accidentally stumbled upon and during the confusion which followed the king’s defeat by Harmony, had been brought into the city by the king’s forces. They were joined by the four lords, Quazetkic, Keriee, Turinoc, and Seuriius; the royal advisor Nefarious; several of the king’s generals; the witch Farewethor; and Queen, Mega’N. They had been conferring now for more than five hours and the main grumble was still about what they were going to do.
“Gentlemen if you please,” Mega’N commanded, raising her hand for silence. “None of this arguing is getting us anywhere.”
Agreement came mumbled from around the table and the queen continued, “What we have here is a very grave situation in need of immediate resolution.”
“My queen, if I may?” Jeshux interjected, raising his hand.
“Of course Commander General,” Mega’N acknowledged.
“I would like to propose, yet again, that our most pressing need is to facilitate the return of the Chosen Ones to our custody.”
This was not the first time since this meeting had been called that Jeshux had raised the matter of Candlelite and Absinthe’s captivity and he was determined not to let them get swept under the rug again as they had so many times already in the last five hours.
With hands clasped and forefingers steeped in front of his nose Nefarious asked, “And yet again, Commander General, how do you propose we go about this venture?”
Farewethor cleared her throat to speak. Having spent the majority of the last twenty-four hours by the king’s side where he lay comatose she had come late into the meeting and had spent her time there in silence. Now she spoke up, “A night raid, solo infiltration and teleportation.” Then she fell silent.
“Go on,” Jeshux urged, intrigued by the witch’s idea.
“Well,” Farewethor said hesitantly. “Obviously it would have to be attempted by someone capable of stealth and schooled in magic.”
“Obviously,” Nefarious scoffed. “And are you volunteering for this suicide mission Farewethor?”
“That’s enough!” the queen raised her voice. “No more sarcasm! No more arguments!” Her face was pinched and her hands were clenched in fists, the knuckles white. Ever since she had witnessed Zakeriah’s fall she had not slept and was skirting the edge of collapse.
“My queen, it’s all right,” Farewethor said softly. “I do volunteer.”
“What?” Nefarious sputtered.
Farewethor turned an angry glare on the magician. “That’s right Nefarious. I do volunteer. Because, unlike some people, I have faith in the prophecy and I truly believe that Candlelite and Absinthe are our only hope.” The witch swept her gaze across the entire table. “Nearly all of you here have met them, can any of you deny that there’s something special about them? An aura, an energy that marks them as special, some force beyond what we know as natural, greater than our concept of good and therefore stronger than Harmony who is only the human embodiment of all that we consider evil. Can any of you in truth say that this is not so?” Her eyes flared with the challenge of her words.
One by one the detractors of the Chosen Ones adverted their eyes while Jeshux party and the four lords applauded. The queen kept silent but a smile played at the corners of her mouth.
“Well said missy!” Vohrmint thundered as his hands boomed with every clap.
“Here, here,” Turinoc added and lifted a large mug of ale to his lips to drain it in two gulps.
Max raised his own flask in salute, took a swallow and passed it to Sefu who did the same.
Farewethor blushed at the sudden acclaim of her fellows. “I’m just following my heart,” she said.
“As should we all,” Jeshux smiled. “As should we all.” He turned to the queen and asked, “What about you, your majesty? Do you agree that we must save the Chosen Ones?”
Instead of answering Jeshux directly Mega’N turned to Farewethor. “You’ll leave tonight. You had better go and prepare yourself. The resources of the capital are at your disposal; feel free to make use of them.”
“Thank you,” Farewethor said getting up from the table. “I’ll begin at once.”
“And one more thing, Witch Farewethor,” the queen stopped her.
“Yes, your majesty?”
“Could you check on my husband please? Do what you can for him?”
“Yes your majesty.” Farewethor bowed and left the room.
“As for the rest of you,” Mega’N said, addressing the rest of the assembly. “I believe our business here is adjourned for the moment. I’m setting another meeting for noon tomorrow. I expect everyone to be here. You’re dismissed.”
Everyone stood up and stretched bodies that had spent too many hours confined to chairs before heading for the exit.
“Commander General,” Mega’N called. “I would like to have a quick word with you alone.”
Jeshux stopped. “I’ll meet up with you and the others in a little while,” he told McAriicoys before he walked back over to the table.
“Please, sit,” Mega’N motioned toward a chair next to hers.
Sitting in the chair indicated Jeshux asked, “What can I do for you, my queen?”
Leaning back in her chair Mega’N said, “Jeshux, I’m going to ask something of you. I know that we haven’t exactly gotten along since you left service here but you and Zakeriah have been friends for years and…” Here she paused.
“Yes Mega’N?” Jeshux urged, lapsing into familiarity.
“I want you to except the regency,” she blurted.
“What!” Jeshux was astonished.
“I would like you to be acting regent.”
“But why?” he asked.
The queen sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I’m tired Jeshux. I’m tired and to be honest with you I don’t feel that I’m capable of managing the kingdom the way it needs managing during this war.” Then, as if she needed to add some justification to her decision, she added, “I mean Zakeriah is one of the most capable men I know and look what happened to him.” A tear beaded up in a corner of one of her eyes and trickled down her cheek. “You should have seen him Jeshux, he was manic. I’ve never seen him like that.”
“Fair enough,” Jeshux said and reached out to pat her hand. “But I’ve got one question, although it may sound cliché, why me?”
She smiled and wiped her face. Jeshux could not help but see how tired and vulnerable she looked right then and it was not a state this hard-bitten woman, the second most powerful person on the planet, should be reduced to.
“Because I believe it’s what Zakeriah would want,” Mega’N answered once she got herself under control. “You two have had your differences over the years…”
“More like decades,” Jeshux laughed.
“Alright, decades,” she smiled again. “But he’s always respected you and admires the way you’ve never backed down from your point of view.”
“Admires?” Jeshux laughed in disbelief. “I find that a little hard to swallow.”
This time it was the queen who reached out and took his hand in hers. “It’s true Jeshux. He does admire you, greatly. And, although he would never admit it, he even envies you. He envies you the freedom that allowed you to throw away a promising position in his court to run off and ensemble your ragtag army of mercenaries.”
“Hardly ragtag,” he said sternly but with a smile on his face. “All right Mega’N, enough of the sweet talk, what’s the point behind all of this?”
“Damnit Jeshux, you never could take a compliment,” she said in exasperation and let go of his hand. “The point is that besides the king no other man has the experience with Harmony that you have and who better to direct the armies of a kingdom at war than the man who was once scheduled to be High General of AnEerth?”
“Ah ha, I knew it!” Jeshux ejaculated.
“Knew what?” Mega’N asked, temporarily confused.
“You and Zakeriah are still trying to maneuver me into the position I declined over three hundred and fifty years ago.”
“We are not!” the queen roared to her feet her eyes ablaze.
“Of course you’re not,” Jeshux said calmly and smiled benignly.
“What?” she sputtered.
“Of course you’re not,” he repeated. “But there’s that fire we’ve all come to know and love so much.”
“What?” she asked again and sat down more confused than ever.
“I accept your generous offer but on one condition, I never want to see you underestimate yourself like that again. You are way more capable than you might think,” he told her smiling all the while.
“You bastard!” she told him.
“Among other things,” he agreed.
“Alright then, I suppose I should thank you for that…”
“Apathy is a gross condition.”
“…but I’m not,” she ignored him. “And before you accept you should know that I have a condition of my own.” She was calmer now but the fire still flared throughout her irises as she stared the Commander General down.
“By all means, tell me,” Jeshux suggested coolly, all business.
“You heard the report from the medic so you know as well as I do it’s looking bad for Zakeriah.” Here she almost choked and another tear rolled from her eye. She swallowed hard, brushed the tear aside and continued, “Damn Harmony! Whatever he hit my husband with is incurable. The medics are stumped, the thaumaturgists are stumped, the only thing that they agree upon is that the magic used had to have originated on Earth because it’s unlike anything that we have here.”
“I’ve heard the report,” Jeshux interrupted. “So where are you going with all this?”
The queen heaved a deep sigh and said, “What I’m trying to say, Jeshux, is if Zakeriah dies I’m going to step down completely. I refuse to rule alone and we have no children.”
“And if I accept the regency that’ll leave me as sole ruler and I’ll have to name a successor if I choose to do so,” he finished for her.
“Precisely,” Mega’N confirmed, eyes narrow, lips tight and face grim.
Jeshux took a moment to consider this before he said, “I still accept.
“Excellent,” She said with a faint hint of relief. “I'll make the announcement to the council when we meet at noon tomorrow and with a little luck the Chosen Ones will join us.”
“Very well,” Jeshux pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “If that’s everything, I have quite a bit to attend to.”
“Yes Jeshux,” she said and he turned to walk away. “And thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” he called over his shoulder as he strode out the door.
The Queen watched the Commander General’s retreating back until the door closed and began to sob silently.


“Yes ma’am,” the witch Farewethor spoke into thin air though she stared at nothing.
She sat alone in the small chamber that she had commandeered to gather the supplies she thought she would need to accomplish the task her fit of passionate zeal had volunteered her for. However, now that she was in this small room surrounded by the apparel and paraphernalia normally associated with a sneak thief she was beginning to doubt her ability to pull off such a bold stunt.
“No ma’am,” she again spoke into thin air, still alone in the room. “No. I believe I have everything that I need. I should be ready to leave in about fifteen minutes. Yes ma’am, I’ll wait.”
Farewethor came out of the trance with a small shake of her head and stretched her arms as if she had just awaked from a long and restful sleep. She slapped her palms on her knees, stood up and looked around at the clothes and supplies around her. Steeling her mind against doubt of what the future may hold she stripped off her robe and donned the black sneak suit that she had acquired earlier from palace stores.
Ten minutes later the young witch had finished with her preparations and so she sat back down to await the arrival of a delivery. Five minutes later there was the soft rapping of someone gently tapping at her chamber door. Farewethor again stood up, this time without the spirit lifting slapping of her knees, and opened the door.
“Witch Farewethor?” a young man, little more than a boy, asked from the hall.
“Yes,” Farewethor answered, trying to picture what she must look like from the boy’s eyes and wondered if he had any idea who this woman before him was or what she was doing.
“Witch Farewethor, I was told to give this to you.” The young man held out his hand and nestled in his palm was a small medallion about an inch in diameter attached to a thin cable woven of many ultra-fine, silver filaments. The medallion was also woven and interwoven from stands of gold which created an intricate and complex tapestry of patterns that seemed to be different every time you looked at it. Knowing what she did of the beautiful piece of jewelry Farewethor would not have been surprised if it really did change its pattern with every look.
She took the proffered medallion and carefully tucked it into a small, concealed pocket that she had designated specifically for the purpose of its containment. “Thank you.”
The young man gave her a short bow and strode purposefully away, clearly anxious to return to the bed that he must have been called from. Farewethor looked wistfully after him and wished she were safe in her own bed. She shut the door to the now empty room and hurried down the hall in the opposite direction. It was well after midnight and she had planned her timetable so that she would be out of the city by one. If she was to meet that deadline she would have to hurry.
She traveled down the halls until she reached a section of the palace that even during daylight hours was little used and began to wend her way downward towards a hidden exit that would deposit her just outside the city walls. After the meeting with the queen she had gone to the royal library where she had been directed to a disused portion of the records department. She dug through the dusty scrolls and maps until she had finally found what she was looking for, an ancient floor plan for the original castle that the new palace was built on top of. Using this artifact from the past Farewethor had found an old supply tunnel and was able to plot a course that would take her there. She was headed to the tunnel now in hopes that it would still be open and although she had studied the route diligently she found herself backtracking after she took a few wrong turns. Presently she found herself in the tunnel that she hoped would still be able to deposit her outside the city walls. During her research she had been unable to find any reference that indicated that it had been closed off and so she had not planned an alternate route.
Farewethor reached the tunnels end, drew a deep breath and whispered the short spell that would open the exit, and only released her breath in relief after the great cover stone ground to a halt over her head. She could see stars shining brightly from their home in the sky through the small hole at the top of a fairly long flight of narrow stairs. The nervous witch put one timid foot on the first step. She put her other foot on the second step and before she knew it she had climbed the short stairway that led outside. The top of the stairs were completely devoid of any vegetation and she hoped the concealment spell had survived the detonation of the arcane energy bomb. And that no one had heard the movement of the cover stone. She shyly poked her head out to look around. Everything was clear so she climbed the rest of the way out and again whispered the spell to shut the covering stone. Ascertaining that the area appeared undisturbed by her passage Farewethor turned and headed toward the enemy army that was camped well beyond the lights of the city. She drew closer to the light from the enemy fires, incanted the spells that would hide her from detection from any of the five senses and prayed that they would be all that she needed.
The light grew brighter and the nighttime noises of the soldiers grew louder as she slipped undetected through the outer ring of sentries and into the heart of the camp. She deliberately took every step with caution, taking care to keep stealth in the forefront of her thoughts. Any misplaced step could arouse suspicion and draw the sort of attention that even her spells would fail to hide her from.
She delved deeper into the enemy camp until she could just make out the ominous shape of Harmony’s tent, black against the stars in the sky, and next to it the unmistakable outline of the large cage in which the Chosen Ones were supposed to be housed. She altered her course slightly until it intersected the cage. Farewethor proceeded with even more caution. Being so close to Harmony and the unspeakable evil that he represented made her extremely uneasy and she became even more aware of the precariousness of her situation the closer she got.
She crept up to the side of the cage and was surprised when a voice suddenly spoke from within its shadowy confines. “Who’s there?” Apparently some people’s senses were more acute than others.
“Shh. I’m here to rescue you,” Farewethor whispered with a nervous glance at Harmony’s tent. As far as she could tell all was well.
“Farewethor!” Absinthe’s face appeared out of the gloom and pressed against the bars.
“SShhh,” Farewethor quieted her with another meaningful glance at Harmony’s tent.
Absinthe nodded her understanding and turned away from the bars. “Candlelite, wake up.”
“”What is it?” Candlelite’s voice was groggy with sleep.
“It’s Witch Farewethor. She’s come to rescue us.”
“Farewethor!” Candlelite’s face was suddenly against the bars.
“SSsshhh! What’s wrong with you guys? Are you suicidal?” Farewethor hissed as she moved around to the cage door. Her adrenalin was skyrocketing and her anxiety was beginning to surge into panic. “Damnit! This lock is going to be impossible!”
“What’s wrong?” Candlelite asked.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to pick this lock,” Farewethor whispered back. Then, all of a sudden, something came to her attention. “Wait a minute, why aren’t you… you know?”
“What?” Absinthe asked from beside Candlelite.
“You know,” she urged.
“Ooh that,” Candlelite said. “Were not sure. Harmony came to see us earlier today and did something.”
“We think,” Absinthe confirmed. “Actually he really didn’t do anything. He stood in front of us, looked at us kind of funny, then he waved his hand and walked away.”
“Once night fell and we didn’t transform we just figured it must have been because if him,” Candlelite added.
“I see.” Farewethor closed her eyes and cast her senses over the two captives. She took care to keep any disturbance in arcane energy from seeping towards Harmony’s tent. “Aaah.”
“What?” Candlelite and Absinthe whispered in unison.
Farewethor opened her eyes and disclosed her findings. “There is a standard stasis field around the two of you. Childs play really. All first year apprentices learn how to do it.”
Both of them nodded sagely, having had some experience with stasis fields in the past.
“Interesting but I really think that we need to concentrate on the task at hand.” Farewethor fished around in her pocket and pulled out the lock picks that she had found along with her sneak suit. “Oh yeah, and this is for you.” She handed Absinthe the medallion.
“What is it?” Absinthe asked, wonderingly tracing the patterns on the medallion with a fingertip.
“It’s a talisman,” Farewethor told her as she began working at the lock with her picks. “It was given to me by the queen. She said that you were to have it.”
“What sort of talisman?” Absinthe slipped the silver cable over her head.
Farewethor grunted quietly as she labored over the lock and answered, “That medallion protects the wearer from magical harm.”
“So am I going to transform now?” Absinthe’s hands moved to pull the medallion off.
Despite the frustrations of her efforts Farewethor managed a smile. “No, no. It doesn’t work like that. Only magic that’s detrimental to your mind, body, or spirit is nullified. Benign or neutral magic isn’t affected and stasis magic is considered neutral. Darn this lock,” she threw the lock picks down in disgust. “I was right, this lock is impossible.”
“Perhaps the key would help,” someone suggested from behind her.
Farewethor whirled into a crouch and pulled a long dagger from her boot.
“Do not worry Witch Farewethor, I mean you no harm,” the stately woman standing before her whispered. In her hand was a long skeleton key.
Farewethor eyed the key suspiciously and demanded, “Who are you? How do you know my name?”
“Archmagi, is that you?” Absinthe whispered.
“Archmagi Florencii?” Farewethor’s eyes narrowed. “Jeshux told us about you. I should gut you right here.” Her fingers tightened around the haft of her dagger.
“And it may be what I deserve but we haven’t the time to debate that now. How I know your name is I sensed you probing the stasis field and pulled an imprint. But if I sensed you then it’s possible that Harmony sensed you.” Florencii glanced towards the tent. “I’m actually surprised that he didn’t. But here,” again she held out the key. “Take this. I’m sure there is no time to waste.”
Farewethor had come slowly to her feet but had not returned her dagger to her boot. She reached out and grabbed the key in disbelief, as if it would suddenly disappear in a puff of smoke, she asked, “Why are you doing this?”
Smiling sadly Florencii released her hold on the key. “I have my reasons but mostly out of respect for an old friend,” she glanced at Candlelite and Absinthe. “And for a couple that could have been if things were different.”
Farewethor tried to shake the confusion from her head as she turned back to the lock. She did not quite succeed as she inserted the key and turned. The lock emitted a satisfying click and the door eased open a crack on well oiled hinges. “Bingo.” Farewethor eased the door open the rest of the way. “Now come on. Like the Archmagi said, we haven’t much time.” She could feel a stirring of the magical resonance in the immediate area.
“She’s right,” Florencii stepped forward as soon as Candlelite stepped from the cage. She pressed something into the young man’s hand and whispered urgently, “Take this. No, be quiet,” she hissed as he opened his mouth. “Harmony intended to use this to turn you into his secret weapon. Instead use it against him.” Then with another quick glance at the black tent no more than a hundred feet away the Archmagi fled into the night.
Candlelite just stared at her dumbfounded and Farewethor grabbed him by the arm. “Seriously, we have got to go! Both of you stay close and hold on to your stomachs.” She could feel the magical energy around them suddenly go as taunt as a guitar string. With a glance over at Harmony’s tent she saw the door flap jerk to one side and she cried, “Now!”
With a loud pop and a bright flash of purple light the witch and the two rescued captives vanished from the camp of their enemy.


Jeshux, Nefarious, and Queen Mega’N were standing atop the moon tower gazing down at Harmony’s army when they saw the flash of purple light illuminate the night. Following close behind the flash was a loud explosion that rocked them on their feet and an inhuman bellow of rage that reached clearly to the top of the tower.
“That’s them,” Jeshux said and turned to Nefarious. “Reactivate the shields!”
The magician turned to the queen and she gave him a small nod. “Sheld aun,” he intoned and quickly followed the other two from the top of the tower.
As they reached the base of the tower the queen spoke, “Nefarious, you may retire now. Commander General, please go and receive our esteemed guests. See to their comfort and make sure they are present at the meeting tomorrow. I bid you gentlemen good night.” She then left to make her way to her chambers.
Nefarious also left to make his way to bed which left Jeshux alone as he navigated the convoluted passages through the palace. He made his way steadily downward towards a large, little known chamber that inhabited a pocket dimension similar to the one in the painting in the Archmagi’s suite back in Gonderlund. This chamber had been chosen as the place of arrival based on its size, being easily able to accommodate Candlelite and Absinthe in their transformed state. Unlike Florencii’s painting however this one was accessed by a conventional door which Jeshux stood in front of less than five minutes after witnessing the flash of Farewethor’s teleportation.
Only two heads turned toward him as he walked into the chamber and Jeshux lost no time noticing a discrepancy in what he was seeing compared to what his mental picture had led him to expect. “What’s wrong with you two?”
“Well hello to you also,” Candlelite greeted while Absinthe flung her arms around the Commander General’s neck and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.
“Jeshux, you look horrible,” Absinthe giggled as she stepped back.
Candlelite stepped forward and gripped Jeshux hand in his. “Don’t worry it’s only a common stasis spell,” he said to answer the question that was still in the other man’s eyes.
“Aah.” Jeshux was obviously relieved. Then he looked around and asked, “And where is young Farewethor?”
“You just missed her,” Absinthe explained. “She left right when we got here to change her clothes.”
“She knew you’d be coming and told us to tell you that she would be right back.” Candlelite pulled something out of the pouch that he always wore around his neck. “Jeshux, do you have any idea what this is?” He held a small wolf, carved out of what seemed to be amber, dangling by a plain steel chain.
Taking the small figurine from his friend he examined it closely. It was only as big as the tip of his thumb to the first knuckle but despite its tiny size it was an amazingly detailed carving. It depicted a shaggy, wild looking wolf standing on its hind legs, front paws to its sides in imitation of a person walking. Fitted tightly around its neck was a small steel collar from which the chain was attached like a leash. The domestic appearance not withstanding there was something decidedly feral about the carving.
“No,” Jeshux finally said and handed the dancing wolf back to Candlelite. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. Where did you get it?”
“From Archmagi Florencii just before we left.”
“You’re joking?”
“No. If it wasn’t for the Archmagi we wouldn’t even be here,” Absinthe gushed. “Farewethor couldn’t pick the lock and we couldn’t get out of the cage. Then Florencii came and she had the key.”
“Interesting, and why didn’t Farewethor teleport you from the cage?” Jeshux asked.
“Because I couldn’t.” Jeshux turned and found the witch Farewethor standing behind him. She had changed out of her black sneak thief suit and was dressed once more in her traditional purple and silver robes. “I considered it when I saw the lock but when my magical probe detected the stasis spell I also found a containment spell forged into the bars. There is no way I could have got them out of the cage without that key.”
A ghost of a smile played on Jeshux lips. “And do you know what the figurine is for?”
“The Archmagi said that Harmony was going to use it to make me his secret weapon,” Candlelite interjected.
Farewethor raised her hand towards Candlelite. “Other than what the Archmagi told him, I haven’t the foggiest.”
“Secret weapon does not sound very good to me,” Jeshux mused. “I think we should have Nefarious take a look at this trinket of your’s first thing in the morning.”
“Ok.”
Absinthe stretched and yawned. “What about a bed?” she asked. “We’ve been sleeping in that cage for weeks.”
Jeshux laughed a humorless laugh. “That’s actually why I’m here. The actual debriefing is scheduled for noon. So if you’ll follow me you should be able to get some good sleep before breakfast.”
“Excellent!” Candlelite smiled ravenously. “I could eat a couple pigs worth of bacon, with three dozen eggs and a whole cow full of milk.”
“That can be arranged,” Jeshux laughed and this time it was genuine.
“Well, if that’s everything, I’m going home,” Farewethor headed for the door. “I will see you all at the meeting.”
“Bye Farewethor. Thank you,” Absinthe called and the witch waved her hand as she walked out the door.
Candlelite and Absinthe followed Jeshux out right behind her and the Commander General led them to their room. The bed was huge and the pillows were soft, with the ambient atmosphere reminiscent of the room they had stayed in during their first visit to the palace. They lay down on the luxurious bed and the two fugitives were fast asleep with contented looks on their faces as soon as their heads hit the pillows.


The Archmagi Florencii was tied naked and bleeding to a log that was planted upright in the blasted soil. Her hands were lashed together and her arms were raised above her head, held tight to the log at her wrists. Blood ran down her arms and across her heaving breasts, oozing from where her bonds bit deep into her flesh. Her feet were similarly secured and bleeding, with the weight of her body cinching the ropes that held her even tighter. The log to which she was lashed was encased in a hard rough bark that was as sharp as knives and slashed her back to ribbons as she writhed in response to her torture.
“You know I should kill you.” Harmony looked up at the Archmagi with a cold, dispassionate look that the light from the rising sun shining in his eyes failed to warm.
“Your little stunt this morning has put quite the kink in my plans.” Harmony had easily ferreted Florencii out as a the contributing factor in the chosen ones’ escape. The explosion that had followed the teleporting trio’s departure from his camp had actually served a dual purpose, while being the magically concussive expression of the Dark Wizards anger it had also been a simple spell of divination that had allowed the sorcerer to ascertain the gist of the events that had just transpired.
Although her torture had been going on for hours Florencii’s eyes still blazed with defiance and although bleeding, battered, and tired her voice did not waver when she said, “Perhaps Harmony but you cannot kill me. You need me to control my army.”
“Slut! Who do you think you are?” Harmony betrayed only the barest hint of emotion. “Who gave you the power that you now wield? I need you like a bat needs its eyes.” But his truth was only partial. Indeed Harmony had the power to raise his own necromonic army but he could not control hers, such was the nature of these things.
“True you nursed me along my dark path but we both know that my soldiers will obey only me and you do not have the time to replace them.” The triumph in her eyes was short lived. Florencii knew the only reason that she was still alive was because Harmony did not know about the theft of the amber wolf.
Harmony sighed in exasperation and rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Cut her down,” he commanded with an indifferent wave of his other hand. Then as he turned and walked back to his tent, “Do not think that you will have opportunity to betray me again Florencii.”
If you only knew, she thought as her bonds were cut and she hit the ground, if you only knew.


Candlelite awoke to the most heavenly aroma that he had ever smelled. Rolling over on his back he stretched, yawned and lay back into the soul satisfying softness of the lavish bed the royal kingdom of AnEerth had so kindly provided him earlier that morning. Provided for him… and Absinthe? Candlelite reached out his left arm and brushed the empty space next to him in the bed with his hand.
Inhaling more of the wonderful scent of breakfast Candlelite sat up and called out for his beloved. “Absinthe!”
Absinthe breezed into the room and threw open the curtains. “Good morning,” she chirped happily as sunlight streamed through the window and bathed the bed with its warming rays.
“Arrgh!” Candlelite cried in mock pain as he lay back down and dragged the covers over his head.
Springing atop the bed Absinthe straddled Candlelite, pulled the blanket from his face and began kissing him wildly.
“Aah! AAH!” Candlelite got his arms free and pinned Absinthe’s to her sides. Giggling happily she collapsed next to him and snuggled her face into his neck. Candlelite laughed, kissed her lightly and pushed her away. He got off of the bed, pulled on some pants and took a deep breath through his nose. Smiling sedately he asked, “Are you ready for breakfast?”
“You bet,” Absinthe also grinned and swung her legs off of the bed. “I’ve already been smelling it for twenty minutes.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up then?”
“Because you looked so cute and comfortable, I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” she said as she followed him to a rolling cart laden with covered dishes heaped with food.
“Well thank you.” Candlelite uncovered a dish and a cloud of aromatic steam quickly escaped, wafting into the air. Absinthe pushed him to the side and stuck her face in the rising cloud and took a whiff.
“Hey!” Candlelite protested. “I was going to do that.”
Absinthe just grinned at him impishly and began helping herself to the food.
After they had stuffed themselves to maximum capacity with the excellent breakfast the two of them sat back on a plush sofa and dozed contentedly in each other’s arms.
Their short nap was interrupted by a sharp knock on the chamber door. Growling a denial Candlelite rolled over and buried his face in a cushion. The knock came again, louder. Absinthe woke this time and with an exasperated look at Candlelite pushed herself off the couch. On the third knock she pulled the door open.
“Lady Absinthe?” a young man inquired. Although she did not know it he was the same boy who had brought Farewethor the medallion that she now wore.
“I suppose,” Absinthe confirmed, uncertain about being called lady.
“And Lord Candlelite, is he in?” the young man peered over her shoulder to peek at Candlelite sawing logs on the couch.
“Lord?” Absinthe snickered. “Oh yes. Lord Candlelite, time to get up!” she called over her shoulder. She held the door wide for the boy and asked, “Won’t you please come in? This may take a moment.”
“Oh. No thank you,” he politely declined not wanting to be involved in what was shaping up to be a domestic dispute. “I’ll wait out here until you are ready. But please hurry as the council is ready to convene.”
“We will,” Absinthe promised and closed the door.
Turning back to Candlelite she shook her head and ran towards him. She reached the couch and went into a flying tackle, intending to trounce him awake, but at the last second Candlelite’s eyes snapped open and moving to one side he jumped off of the couch. Absinthe missed her target and impacted the couch, tipping it over backward with her momentum, and landing on the floor.
Candlelite stood roaring with laughter as Absinthe eyed him from a pile of plush cushions behind the overturned couch.
“What are you laughing at?” she questioned with a cold look.
Candlelite shook with mirth and could only shake his head. With tears streaming down his face he hugged himself and stomped his right foot on the floor.

Ten minutes later they were walking down the hallway, following the boy to the throne room. Candlelite had his arm linked with Absinthe’s and the two of them walked close together, laughing and giggling, just happy to be free and in each other’s company. Their young guide did not understand why they were so happy with a war on and the city under siege and gave them a scowl over his shoulder. Such a serious look on the younger man sent Candlelite and Absinthe into near convulsions that had them stumbling to keep up.
Before long the boy stopped in front of a pair of doors that they recognized as those that led to the throne room. With a heartfelt knock he pushed open the great doors and announced in a loud, clear voice, “Lord Candlelite and Lady Absinthe!” The pair colored slightly and entered the throne room as their guide quickly departed.
In front of the central dais where the two thrones were perched was a long table, apparently the same table on which was laid the grand feast the last time they were there. Around the table stood all of their friends, Jeshux and McAriicoys, Vohrmint, Max and even Sefu all sat on the queen’s right along with five well dressed men of varying heights and builds. At the head of the table sat the queen, who looked tired but alert and to her left sat the king’s advisor Nefarious along with several other gentlemen that neither of them recognized. There were also a witch and a mage that they were unfamiliar with, a short woman with graying hair and a short old man with features similar to what Candlelite and Absinthe thought of as oriental. They were sitting with Farewethor.
As the Chosen ones approached the table they heard several cries of greeting from their friends and with McAriicoys to his right Jeshux indicated that they were to sit to his left in the two empty chairs between Max and himself. Candlelite took the chair directly next to the Commander General.
“How are you my dear?” Max asked as everyone took their seats.
“Fine, thank you,’ Absinthe answered politely.
After everyone had settled into their seats the only person who remained standing was Queen Mega’N.
“Thank you all for being here,” Mega’N said loudly as she raised her hands for silence. “We have much to discuss this afternoon. First, I would like to extend my gratitude and that of the realm to Witch Farewethor for a job well done.” Farewethor gave a short bow from her seat. “I would also like to heartily welcome back to our humble city the Chosen Ones, Candlelite and Absinthe, and introduce to them those of you that they may not know.” There was a murmur of greeting from those gathered around the table. Candlelite sort of raised his hand and nodded while Absinthe smiled broadly and stunned everyone with her beauty.
“Now that the pleasantries are concluded let’s move on to business.” Mega’N shuffled some notes in front of her but did not refer to them. “The number one item on my agenda this day is, in some ways, perhaps the most important.” She glanced toward Jeshux who gave her a slight nod. “As you are all aware the king is in a rather critical state right now and the medics are postulating that he may not make it through another night. In light of this information I, Mega’N Siv O’opp, High Queen of AnEerth, have made the decision to abdicate my throne…”
The assembly broke into an uproar over the Queen’s announcement with the exception of Jeshux and McAriicoys, who already knew that it was to come and the three Earthlings, who did not share the same political viewpoint as everyone else. Sefu was also unaffected; she sat back in her chair with a bored expression on her face. Being an outlaw she really did not care who was in power, her business would go on regardless. Her only interest was when the fighting would start as she laced her fingers behind her head and leaned back casually in her seat.
Mega’N let the outrage continue for a moment before she again raised her hands. “Silence!” she called out over the din. “I said, Silence!”
Gradually everyone became quiet and Nefarious took the opportunity to ask, “Your highness, but why? Why are you stepping down just when your kingdom, your planet needs you the most? Are you giving up?”
The queen’s eyes narrowed angrily and her voice bristled with authority. “Nefarious, your insolence is truly unforgivable. Why Zakeriah has tolerated your arrogant, insubordinate whining for so many decades will always elude me. My only hope is that whoever is to take the throne after me will have the intelligence to replace you with someone less self-serving.”
Nefarious visibly shrank from the queen’s harsh words and fear leapt into his eyes as the reality of being replaced suddenly became very real for him.
One of the several military advisors seated to the queen’s left utilized this moment to voice a question of his own, “Despite his personality flaws your highness, Nefarious has inadvertently corralled you into clarifying a good point,” the man spoke diplomatically. “Just who will take the throne in light of your abdication?”
Mega’N’s smile was brittle when she answered, “Thank you General Kahill for bringing us back on topic. I was getting to the matter of my successor when I was so rudely interrupted.” She fixed Nefarious with another hateful look for emphasis before she continued, “So that you all know, in case there are any further doubts, I have ruminated long and hard on this subject and after much consideration I have decided that in the absence of our beloved king I am not qualified in a military aspect to lead our kingdom to the victory it so desperately needs in this war.” Mega’N gave yet another pointed look at Nefarious. “This reason and this reason alone is why I am stepping down and naming Commander General Jeshux DuTerriux Jules as Lord Regent of the Kingdom of AnEerth!”
The assembly again erupted in bedlam as this revelation was digested among the meeting’s participants. Jeshux was the logical choice as he had at one time been expected to except the position as General of the royal armies but he was the last person anyone present had expected to be named as ruler of the entire planet, even if only as the regent.
“Under what terms will the Commander General act as regent?” General Kahill spoke above the confusion. He was visibly upset though he clearly tried not to show it. As his immediate rival the General had advanced to his position due only to Jeshux self imposed exile, not through any truly outstanding attributes of his own. Being aware of this he was naturally somewhat sore about it and now to top things off his personal vendetta was being snubbed once again as his political adversary was named as his liege and ruler. A hardened man the General may be but this was almost too much.
The assembly quieted down to hear the queen’s answer to the general’s question and she looked almost serene as she made the statements that she knew would cause the most distress yet. “My people it is my wish, considering that the king and I are childless, that upon the successful resolution of our current conflict the lord regent will cast off his title by naming a new King and Queen of AnEerth.”
Jeshux smiled a little in surprise but said nothing while virtual chaos exploded around the table. Everyone had expected the Commander General to step down after the war but none had expected to be shackled under a rule of his choice. None but Jeshux seemed to realize the choice had already been made.
Finally Nefarious managed to croak above the roar, “But why, my queen? Why don’t you retake the throne? It is rightfully yours!”
Again everyone went quiet in anticipation of the queen’s answer. You could have heard a pin drop in the throne room as everyone held their breath but the queen was silent and refused to meet the High Magician’s challenging stare. Instead she stared off into space, somewhere out a small window set high in the wall to her right, trying to see into a world that might supply her with answers. Try as she might though she could not quite pierce the veil. Mega’N began to sense impatience ripple through her council and while she may not care she felt that she owed an answer.
“Is it?” she began, finally meeting Nefarious’ eyes before sweeping a glance around the table. “I don’t believe it is anymore. Even if it were I don’t want it. After six hundred years of peaceful rule Harmony has taken away the one thing that I care about, the man I love. No gentlemen, ladies…” Mega’N stood up from her chair and placed her hands on the table. “I’m tired and I am going to sit with my husband during his final hours. My last act as ruler of this fair planet will be to send someone to spread the news of my abdication and the Commander General’s regency.” Over half of a millennium of royalty drained from the queen’s bearing until she was only a woman once more and as a woman she turned to Jeshux. “If you could update me on the remainder of these proceedings I would appreciate it.”
Jeshux nodded and watched as the former queen walked from the room. Not half as powerful as she once was the new regent sensed that she was twice as formidable as she had ever been. His thoughts skipped back over the queen’s speech as he stood and moved to take the vacant seat at the head of the table. The implications of what she had said were strongly enticing and it would satisfy Jeshux sense of right to stir things up with his newly acquired authority.
Jeshux eyed the various faces and easily picked out the few that were lined with dissent. He chose to address the issue of power immediately and spoke mainly for their benefit.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began. “Good afternoon to you in these most trying of times.” Jeshux paused to gather his thoughts. “I would like to begin by saying that I did not seek this position in any way. It was thrust upon me rather abruptly and came as just as much of a surprise for me as it did for you. Know that I will perform as our leader to the best of my abilities and beyond if necessary. Now I look upon you and I see worry upon some of your faces…” This was an understatement and everyone knew it but Jeshux barreled forward. “…and I must pose the question, does anyone among you feel that I am incapable of serving as regent in a satisfactory manner?” No one said anything, all being too honorable to lie outright. “Excellent. Then should I assume that no one here wishes to oppose the High Queen’s last edict that I should ascend as Lord Regent of our fair planet?”
With a glance at everyone around the table General Kahill cleared his throat. “You should,” he said and it was exactly what Jeshux wanted to hear. If the General had no wish to oppose him then he felt that he had nothing to worry about.
“Well then,” Jeshux said and finally took his seat. “I believe it’s time we got down to more pressing matters. First, the lord Candlelite has a trinket in his possession, a parting gift from our beloved Archmagi Florencii, and I feel that it may be extremely important to discover its exact nature.” He gestured to Candlelite who looked more than a little uneasy at being called a lord. “Candlelite, if you’d please pass your carving to the High Magician so that he may inspect it.”
Candlelite reached into his pocket and pulled out the little amber wolf dangling from its chain.
A look of surprise grew on Nefarious’ face as the carving was passed down to him and it coalesced into one of full blown shock as soon as his fingers touched the chain. “Oh my,” he murmured and suspended the wolf at eye level where it spun slowly one direction and then the other. “Oh, my my,” and he tentatively reached out one finger to ever so briefly touch the figurine. Instantly the magician jerked his hand away and lowered the figurine to the table.
“What is it?” Jeshux had watched the magician closely and thought that he detected just the faintest glow in the heart of the amber wolf when Nefarious touched it.
Nefarious ignored the regent and lifted his eyes from the figurine to Candlelite. “You received this from the Archmagi?”
Candlelite nodded and told everyone what he had been told by Florencii.
“Oh,” Nefarious breathed as he picked up the chain and passed the carving back to Candlelite, “That sneaky, sneaky woman.”
“What is it?” Jeshux repeated with a note of impatience.
“It’s very appropriate that this object has fallen into the hands of this young man,” Nefarious stated gravely. “That figurine represents one of the nine artifacts of old magic. If Harmony had invoked its power he could very well have turned young Candlelite against us.”
“What are you saying? Does it enable mind control?” Jeshux asked.
“A form of mind control,” Nefarious conceded.
“Impossible!” General Kahill snorted. “It was proven long ago that a person could not be manipulated by magic.”
“Not quite,” Farewethor corrected when she spoke up for the first time. “Magic cannot be used to enslave someone against their will. Free will is the one natural force that can’t be shackled. But people can be influenced to do things that they may not be normally inclined to do and magic can definitely be a contributing source of influence. Of course if the will of a person is destroyed then influence becomes that much easier and it is possible to destroy a person’s will.”
“So this little wolf has the power of persuasion then?” Max proposed as he reached across Absinthe to pick up the figurine and examine it.
“Perhaps, but although Witch Farewethor is correct in her tutoring, the rule of free will does not apply to that little wolf there.” Nefarious pointed to the carving as Max handed it back to Candlelite. “You see it was fashioned as a tool to aid in the training of werewolves.”
Understanding dawned suddenly on Farewethor’s face but before she could speak the old oriental man spoke excitedly. “The Lupelire!”
“Precisely,” Nefarious confirmed. “The Lupelire of Sangra-Li. I believe that it originated from magicians somewhere in your country, did it not Mage Pwami?”
“Indeed it did,” the aged mage conceded. “It was also purported to have been lost over five thousand years ago.”
‘It appears that Harmony found it,” the gray haired witch next to Farewethor remarked. “It’s no wonder that he has been reported to have such flawless control over his wolf packs.”
“No wonder indeed, Jirseka,” Nefarious agreed. “Since animals haven’t the same sense of free will as humans, with the power of the Lupelire he would have perfect mastery over any of the canine or lupine species and very likely could have used it to subvert Candlelite to his cause.”
“That would have been terrible,” Absinthe gasped.
“More than any of us may realize,” Jirseka mused.
“I have to say that it’s fortuitous that we have been spared the consequences of the Lupelire,” Jeshux said. “Now all we have to do is figure out how to use its power to our advantage.”


Harmony stood outside the city walls, no more than a hundred yards from the central gates, with the generals of his awe inspiring army positioned in a crescent around him. The sorcerer’s hood was pulled over his head. His face lost in shadow and illuminated only by a faint red glow that emanated from his black eyes.
Arms at his sides, hands clenched in fists Harmony slowly rotated his arms until his hands faced the gates. He raised his hands straight in front of him, palms to the sky and began a deep almost inaudible chant that increased in depth and intensity until its resonance began to echo off of the walls in front of him and resound to the heavens.
Rotating his hands again Harmony spread his arms outwards so that his palms faced the city gates. His chant ended and with his arms still out in front of him he brought his hands together with a thunderclap that shook the ground he stood on and rattled the foundation of the city to the very bottom of its footings. As he watched the opaque haze over the city flickered and then ceased to shimmer, the shields were gone. Once more Harmony spread his arms wide, uttered one more bass note of a word and brought his hands together again. This time red fire flared from his eyes, leaping to splinter the massive gates in front of him and a thunderclap exploded an instant before a massive bolt of lightning materialized from the cloudless, star studded sky to strike the highest tower of the palace and bring rubble raining down upon the helpless city.
With fiery tendrils retreating back into the orbs of his soulless eyes Harmony lowered his arms and turned to face his generals. “Enter,” was all he said.
The various generals turned from their master and began to coordinate the different factions of his army into concentrated attacks against the city. A grizzle bearded man with filthy blonde hair and spittle spraying from a mouth full of rotten teeth ordered a group of men forward against the splintered gates that were now the only barrier that kept Harmony from the city. They came three score strong and pushed a battering ram carved from the trunk of a tree that had been at least two centuries old. The trunk was decorated its entire length with intricate runes and symbols and was mounted on a cradle that was carried by eight wheels that bumped and rattled only slightly on the nearly smooth ground. Stout poles- presumably fashioned from the limbs of the slaughtered tree and carved in a manner similar to that of the trunk- protruded from each side of the cradle, fifteen to a side with a man straining behind each one.
With a mighty crash the ram shattered the already damaged gates and showered the men with splinters as they abandoned the ram to its momentum. Some of those splinters were long and sharp and drove into the ram drivers, death the only reward for their efforts.
The battering ram continued its journey into the city unimpeded, bouncing erratically along uneven cobble stones that slowed its progress. As it jostled to a halt the runes carved throughout its entire length began to glow with the same fire that had escaped from Harmony’s eyes to splinter the gates. Coming to a complete stop the log burst into an inferno that exploded without warning and blasted a hundred foot circle from the street causing hot cobble and flaming shrapnel to hurtle into a panic stricken populace who were still trying to recover from the devastation of the moon tower.
The city guard appeared amid the screams and cries of confused civilians and quickly converged on the remnants of the gates. Their intent was to plug the gaping wound in their cities defenses and stop any would be intruders but their plan was doomed before it had a chance to begin.
Before the guardsmen got within fifty feet of their destination five packs of gigantic werewolves burst in from the outside and fell upon them with savage fury. Not accomplishing their desired task the guardsmen only succeeded to add their anguished cries to those of the people they had attempted to protect. After they had effectively dealt with the minor difficulty of the city guard the werewolves fell upon the terrified populace, people who were busy scrambling for the safety of their homes and businesses. Lightly mailed pike men followed close on the furred heels of the werewolves and were led by the same general who had ordered the battering ram forward. The pike men surged through the gates as fast as the large portal would allow them and fanned out into the city as goblins began to come over the wall itself.
Under the direction of Snoregg and Neebling, goblin warriors were outside and busy placing scaling ladders against the three hundred foot wall that encircled the city. With spidery limbs they nimbly hauled themselves up the ladders rungs, gained the top the walls and began fighting with the guardsmen stationed there. Their actions provided cover for the dozens more of their brethren that followed, some on the ladders and some transported magically by the many thaumaturgists that Harmony employed. The more goblins on the wall the easier for more goblins to overtake the city.
The guardsmen on the wall had begun firing their rifles at the army below after the gates were destroyed and now had no choice but to turn their attentions to the ladders. Some of them dropped their guns in desperation and drew their swords as they were forced to engage the enemy in hand to hand combat while blood drenched the parapets making the top of the walls slick and the footing dangerous.
With the knowledge that they were going to be overrun one of the guardsmen broke from the fighting and ran for the cover of a watch house, one of many small rooms that were dispersed evenly around the top of the wall. He darted through the small door of the watch house and fell to the left, landing hard on his knees before he groped frantically around the floor. He quickly found what he was looking for, a steel ring attached to a trapdoor in the floor, which he grabbed with both hands and heaved open. With one last look over his shoulder to make sure that no one had followed him the guardsman hurried down the set of stairs that was revealed under the floor. Once he was able he closed the trapdoor and threw a sturdy set of bolts which sealed it from enemy penetration before he made his way down through the interior of the wall.


The members of council were still deep in discussion when the floor shook and sent ripples through the various liquids that filled their cups. Everyone looked around as the walls quaked and more of the already loosened silt drifted to the floor.
“What the hell?” General Kahill cried.
Jeshux looked around in alarm as an aid’s head peeked in from outside. “You there!” he called to the aid.
“Yes sir?”
“Go find out what’s going on and report back to us immediately!” Jeshux commanded.
“Yes sir.” The aid bowed and ducked out of the room.
“What was that?” Absinthe inquired. “It felt like the whole world was coming apart.”
“I don’t know,” McAriicoys growled. “But whatever it was it can’t be good.”
“Nefarious, is there any way you can tell us what happened?” Jeshux asked.
“Of course,” the magician said disdainfully.
“Then do it!” Jeshux snapped.
With a grimace Nefarious closed his eyes and placed both hands palm down on the table before him. His brows furrowed and beads of sweat popped out on his forehead as he exerted his will.
Suddenly his eyes flew open and Nefarious groaned, “Oh no! It’s Harmony, he’s attacking! The gates have been destroyed and the city is being overrun!” He pulled his hands from the table and two red imprints were left to fade into its surface.
Jeshux leapt to his feet at the same time as McAriicoys and Candlelite. Everyone one else was only a second slower. “Damnit, everyone knows what to do, right?” Jeshux asked and everyone around the table nodded affirmative. “Good. Witch Farewethor, I want you in charge of getting everyone where they need to go! Understood?”
“I understand sir!” Farewethor stood up and stepped away from the table. General Kahill and two other men got up and stood next to her as did the four lords Quazetkic, Keriee, Turinoc, and Seuriius. Nefarious looked pale and also stood up to joined the little group.
“Lady, gentlemen, good luck,” Jeshux saluted.
The eight men looked grave as they and the witch disappeared in a flash of purple light with even the dust under their feet being taken along with them.
The aid that Jeshux had sent to discover what had happened burst into the throne room without warning. “Sir, Harmony’s attacking!” he called. “The gate has been breached and the moon tower’s been destroyed!”
Jeshux ran for the door and signaled McAriicoys to follow him. “I want my men ready for battle. The city’s been compromised and Harmony won’t stop until the palace is his.”
“I understand,” McAriicoys said.
“I can help,” the witch Jirseka said as she and the mage Pwami caught up with the two men. “Both of us can.”
“Very well,” Jeshux agreed. “Take McAriicoys and Vohrmint to the barracks.” Jeshux motioned Vohrmint forward from where he followed with the others. “You’re going with McAriicoys to rally the troops. The witch will take you.”
“Great,” Vohrmint growled. “I love to teleport.”
Jirseka vanished with the two warriors in a flash of blue light.
Jeshux turned to the other remaining teleporter and grabbed the old oriental’s shoulder, “Pwami, you come with me.” “I have a feeling the final battle is upon us and I’m going to need a magician I can trust by my side if we’re going to conclude this war in our favor.”
The old man nodded his head and kept quiet as he and the new regent reached two doors set together. Jeshux twisted their ornate gold handles, flung them open and strode purposefully to the railing of the large balcony before him. Gripping the rail with white knuckled hands the mercenary turned planetary ruler looked out across the vast sun dappled city of light.
“Oh-my-God,” Absinthe whispered as she and Candlelite reached Jeshux side.
The city of light was beginning to darken with the shadows of half a dozen fires which had begun to burn outward from where the gates had been located. The wind had picked up and drifted smoke into a brown haze that dirtied the atmosphere and sullied the nostrils of the three people gathered at the balconies edge. Max reach them and the clatter of machine guns echoed throughout the maze of alleys. This music of war following the smoke with faint cries of pain.
“What do we do?” Candlelite asked. A fierce gleam shone in his eyes as the far off sounds of slaughter ignited something feral in his soul.
“We fight,” Jeshux answered. “And we win.”
An explosion rocked the city and a small mushroom cloud rose above the rooftops. The fighting was still a long way off but the black cloud indicated that it was moving closer.
“Max, I want you to stay here,” Jeshux turned from the destruction and addressed the old scientist directly. “You may be immortal but even eternal life isn’t guarantee against death and to be honest,” here Jeshux paused and a grim smile stole over his features. “You’re not much of a fighter.”
Max returned his friend’s smile and his own matched the other’s grimness. “No, I’ve always been more of a lover,” he conceded. “But there has to be something I can do.”
“Actually, there is. I want you to aid our technicians in the war department. With your experience in science I’m sure they can put your brain to good use.” Jeshux turned to Pwami. “Take him now and come right back,” he ordered the old man.
Max blanched at the thought of teleportation. “Is this really necessary?” he sputtered as Pwami grabbed him by the arm. Before anyone had a chance to reply the two men disappeared in a blinding flash.
Jeshux looked at the others and saw on their faces a mixture of anticipation and fear. He knew his own face reflected those of his friends, anticipation of the fight to come and fear that they would not be able to conclude the war to their satisfaction.
“My friends the time has come,” he said. “Let’s get some weapons.”
As they left the balcony and its view of the carnage below Jeshux motioned to the young aid who had loyally waited outside the door. “Go get the queen. Tell her what’s happening and have her meet us in the armory.”
“Yes sir!” the aid bowed low while he walked, a remarkable display of skill, and hurried in another direction towards the infirmary.


The air of the city was hot and stole the breath from Candlelite’s lungs as he ran. It was heavy with the acrid tang of smoke and hashed his throat until it made him cough. Pausing in his flight down an alleyway Candlelite leaned a hand against a hot brick wall to catch his breath and fight down the rising urge to lose his breakfast. The horror of battle had sparked his bestial nature while he had viewed it from the distant heights of the palace but witnessing the chaos firsthand had damped the flames and chilled his soul. For the first time since he had been bitten Candlelite found himself longing for night and the transformation that it would bring. He found himself wishing he could lose himself in the ferocity of instincts that would sweep away these frail human emotions with the power of an ocean’s current.
The queen had sent the aid to the armory with a message to Jeshux that the king was living his last moments and she could not leave his side. Jeshux had understood and resent the aid to relay his understanding. Once they were fully armed and armored Candlelite, with Absinthe at his side, had followed Jeshux, along with Sefu, when Pwami had teleported them to the barracks.
And the barracks were in turmoil. Soldiers ran this way and that, barely slowing to acknowledge their new regent with a quick salute before they hurried about their business. Jeshux managed to get a young sergeant to slow down long enough to point out the location of McAriicoys and the mercenaries before he was off again. Jeshux let him go and led the way through the throng once more. McAriicoys proved to be right where the sergeant had indicated, but the reunion only lasted long enough for Jeshux to assume command and lead his men into the streets to participate in the anarchy.
It was in the streets that Candlelite became separated from his companions. Now, alone in the alley he shouldered his plasma rifle and spun on heel as he heard something crash behind him.
“Who goes there?” Candlelite called out sounding a little cliché. His sharp eyes searched the cluttered alley but he saw nothing. All he could hear was the labored sound of his own breathing overlaid with the chatter of machine gun fire and the vvvwhumph of plasma rifles. He quested through the air with his nose but all he could smell was the overpowering aroma of smoke mixed with the pungent odor of his own fear laden sweat.
Another small clatter and Candlelite swung his rifle to the right to cover the area from where the new sound had come but still he saw nothing. A breeze picked up from behind him and suddenly Candlelite caught a whiff of animal musk. He spun around and his eyes widened in horror as he spotted the hulking form of a werewolf bearing down on him. Although he knew it was too late Candlelite raised his rifle and managed to squeeze off a shot. He saw the fur of the slobbering creature’s right shoulder disappear in a puff of hot plasma before the werewolf slammed into him.
Candlelite hit the ground and lost his rifle as the air was crushed out of him from the beast’s weight on his chest. He felt the searing heat of the creature’s breath in his face and tasted the saliva that dripped off of the werewolf’s fangs as it lowered its jaws to devour his face.
“No!” Candlelite wheezed with the last of his air as he closed his eyes and waited for the worst. But the worst never came and Candlelite slowly opened his eyes. He winced at the sight of the black muzzle that hovered over his face with its hooked fangs and twitching whiskers. The werewolf looked down at its captive with curiosity in its eyes and its stare was soon joined by that of its hunting companion who had come from the other end of the alley to stand and look quizzically at the cringing man.
Candlelite’s bladder almost let go when the other werewolf appeared above him but a slight orange glow near his chest forced his eyes away from the killers above him. As he looked down he remembered the amber wolf that he wore in the pouch around his neck and the magic Nefarious had claimed resided within it. He looked back to the beasts who still regarded him curiously. Candlelite drew a shallow breath into his cramped lungs and croaked, “Gedoffme.” Amazingly the large beast complied; it stepped off of Candlelite’s chest and sat back on its haunches. The second werewolf also took a step back and sat down.
Candlelite sat up slowly and looked around for his rifle. He spotted it off to his right, slowly stood up and walked over to it. He picked it up and turned to regard the savage hunters that sat before him, regarding him calmly and seemingly unperturbed by the sounds of fighting in the streets.
An idea slowly formed in Candlelite’s mind. “Stand up,” he commanded the werewolves and they moved to obey, rising from their haunches to all fours and then to their hind legs. Having been subjected to the reality of magic for so long Candlelite easily placed his trust in the power of the amber wolf. His fear of the animals evaporated.
“You,” he said and pointed to the second werewolf. “Go get more of your kind and bring them back to me.” The werewolf immediately dropped to all fours and loped off. “And you’re going to come with me to find Absinthe and the others,” Candlelite told the werewolf that had landed on him. The creature also dropped to all fours.
Candlelite shouldered his rifle and looked at the slight burn on the werewolf’s shoulder. He assured himself that the wound was superficial before he turned and trotted in the direction he was headed before he had been ambushed. The sword at his side slapped gently against his trouser leg and made a soft tat-tat-tat noise as he jogged. He reached the end of the alley, stopped and put his back to the wall.
Candlelite glanced at the werewolf, smiled a wolfish grin and poked his head around the corner. “Looks clear,” he told the werewolf and tightened his grip on his rifle. “Let’s get a move on.”
Steeling himself Candlelite burst from the alley and, followed closely by the werewolf, began to jog down the street. All of the homes and businesses were shut up tight and everything looked deserted but Candlelite knew better, his wolf senses detected movement in the buildings as fearful citizens eyed him warily from their windows.
The chatter of a machine gun burst from behind him and Candlelite heard the whine of bullets as they kicked up dust next to him. Veering away from the bullets he dove behind a set of stairs as more gunfire sought to pierce his flesh. Coming into position fast Candlelite steadied his rifle against a riser and vvvwhumphed a couple blasts of plasma at his enemy before dropping back behind the stairs.
Candlelite had got a quick count of his attackers, there were five of them and they were dressed in Harmony’s colors. Bullets ricocheted all around him, chips of concrete cascaded down on him. He was pinned down but still managed to get off a couple shots before the machine gun fire concentrated on him, raining a deadly barrage of hot lead that made it impossible for him to move.
Candlelite looked at the werewolf crouched down next to him and asked, “Well, are you just going to sit there or are you going to help me?”
Steel strong muscles uncoiled like compressed springs and the humanoid beast sprang from behind the stairs like greased lightning. The gunfire ceased at the appearance of what seemed to be an ally and Candlelite risked a glance from behind the stairs.
The werewolf was down on all fours as it padded towards the black clad men who lowered their rifles and began to talk in a language that Candlelite could not understand. They were probably laughing over the probability of their lupine companion having torn him apart because they were totally relaxed as the werewolf advanced on them. When it was five feet away the werewolf growled deep in its throat, a menacing sound that Candlelite felt more than heard, and the men stopped their joking to regard the beast warily. Before they could raise their weapons to defend themselves the werewolf became a blur of motion, as it leapt into their midst and bowled them over. With claws and teeth the werewolf ripped its opponents to shreds. The entire encounter was over in about four seconds.
Candlelite stood up from the cover of the stairs and waited as the werewolf walked casually back over, its muzzle and front paws covered in gore. “Good boy,” Candlelite praised. He reached out tentatively and patted the beast on its head. “Alright then, let’s get going.” Candlelite began to jog again towards the direction from which the most sounds of combat were coming.


Harmony was pleased with the progress that his troops were making with the invasion. Almost an eighth of his men were inside the city walls in two hours, werewolves roamed the streets in large packs, and vampires patrolled the skies to lend aid wherever necessary. Even with the loss of his arcane energy canon and the two shape shifters his impending victory was beginning to taste sweet.
The sorcerer was in his tent. He sat at a small desk mixing various herbs and tinctures into a bowl. Once he had all that he required he ground them all together with a pestle. The mash that resulted was dark and just a touch slimy. Harmony brought the bowl to the small, fuel-less fire that burned constantly in the center of his tent and scraped the contents into a cast iron kettle that hung suspended over the fire. The damp mash dissolved into the clear fluid that filled the kettle and turned it a cloudy gangrene color that sent up a foul vapor the Harmony was careful not to inhale. Once the kettle ceased its fuming Harmony took a ladle from its place beside the fire and filled a rough hewn, wooden mug to its brim with the steaming liquid. Eyeing the mug with a look of distaste he brought it to his lips and drained it in three gulps.
Harmony dropped the mug and it clattered dully among the small pebbles that littered the dirt floor. A seizure gripped the sorcerer and his back arched, bending his spine almost to the breaking point and causing loud popping and cracking noises to explode from the vertebrae. His knees buckled and Harmony collapsed to the floor. His whole body arched and lifted him off of the floor, his arms outstretched and his fingers curled into claws.
“Nnnnuh!” the cry broke Harmony’s lips with a spray of pink foam that dribbled from the corner of his mouth and down the side of his face. Harmony’s body had one more spasm in it before it went limp. With a sigh the sorcerer closed his eyes and curled up on his side in the fetal position. Within a few heartbeats he was fast asleep.
The sleep did not last long. Ten minutes on the dot and Harmony’s eyes snapped open and flared briefly with silver phosphorescence as he sat up. He wiped the congealing froth from his face as an evil green light replaced the silver in his eyes and began drifting from his dark orbs to waft lazily around his head. “Aaahh,” Harmony sighed and the green glow was alive in the depths of his mouth.
Harmony rose sinuously to his feet, donning the cowl of his robe as he did so, and glided out of his tent with the fluidity of a snake.
The burning afternoon sun was fading to an evening glow. The black skin of Harmony’s tent absorbed the sunlight thoroughly, giving the impression that a black hole rested on the surface of the planet. It was a reflection of the black of Harmony’s eyes as he stretched gracefully and took in his surroundings with clarity of vision that was newly awakened. The bulk of his gargantuan army had pressed closer to the besieged city and he noticed that his tent was no longer at its center but had shifted more towards the rear.
Looking ahead Harmony noticed the empty cage and scowled. He had left it placed in front of his tent to remind him of the duplicity of his allies and the tenacity of his enemies. He glided slowly up to the wheeled enclosure and reached out to rub a finger down one of its bars. As the muffled sounds of battle reached his newly sensitized ears Harmony wondered where the so called Chosen Ones might be. He felt the power of the potion coursing through his system as it increased in potency and the Dark Lord knew that the time of the final confrontation was nearly at hand.
Turning away from the cage and its harsh reminders Harmony tested the air with his nose and moved off to follow a scent to its owner.


Jeshux had set up his men as blockades throughout the city. Dispersed in a crescent formation around the area of the gates the mercenaries held their positions in the streets, guarding the palace and inner city from Harmony’s forces as wave after wave of the enemy attacked and retreated like an organic replica of an ocean’s tides.
The flow of traffic through the mercenary perimeter was for the most part, one way. Thousands of men and women were allowed through checkpoints as soldiers of the realm marched out to engage Harmony’s troops in the cramped spaces of the wide city streets. Very few made the trip back inside. The mercenaries only allowed wounded and refugees from the occupied sectors of the city and unfortunately these people were few and far in between.
Jeshux was positioned atop a high roof in the heart of the war torn city. From his position he was able to view almost the entire city and coordinate his troops via electronic communication. It was from this eerie that he first spotted the stream of werewolves picking its way purposefully through the streets.
“We’ve got a problem,” Jeshux informed the soldier next to him, a mercenary that was acting as his second in command. “Get me McAriicoys on communications.”
The mercenary quickly passed the order to the com-man who began manipulating the controls of the communications relay. Within seconds the proper frequency was found and McAriicoys became audible over the speakers. The com-man handed the merc the transmitter and it was placed in Jeshux waiting hands.
“McAriicoys, this is Jeshux. Do you copy, over?”
“Jeshux, this is McAriicoys, over.” McAriicoys voice carried across the air in a burst of static and was accompanied by the sounds of intense fighting.
“McAriicoys, what’s your twenty?”
“Sector D.”
Jeshux had divided the city into four quadrants and designated each quadrant with a letter. The northwest and northeast quadrants were A and B, respectively. The southwest and southeast quadrants were sectors C and D. The palace was situated in the top most northern section of the city while the gates were located directly opposite in the southern most portion of the wall. The mercenaries currently held positions in the streets which formed a crescent that began in sector C and moved up into sectors A and B before descending into sector D. It was because of these blockades that Jeshux was able to quarantine the invading army in the southern third of the city where it was easily observable from his rooftop positioned near the palace side of the blockades deep in the southwest corner of sector B, ideally situated to view all four sectors.
Jeshux looked through a pair of binoculars and surveyed the progress the werewolves were making through the streets. The animals were highly organized, even for their kind, and traveled a path that was carrying them through sector C diagonally north into the northwest corner of sector D. Jeshux relayed this information to McAriicoys along with his concerns about such a force being allowed to maneuver so close to the blockade string.
“Roger that, they’re going to pass right by my position. Let us mop up our current mess and then we’ll move to intercept them. Don’t worry Jes, we’ll give the bastards a proper reception. One they won’t soon forget,” McAriicoys acknowledged.
“Ten four,” Jeshux said. “Keep me updated, Jeshux out.”
Jeshux passed off the transmitter and went back to scanning the city with his binoculars. The matter of the werewolves was temporarily forgotten now that it was in McAriicoys capable hands. McAriicoys was just like any other good leader, calm under pressure and the most in control when things were out of control. His usage of Jes instead of Jeshux or sir was the ultimate proof of this. McAriicoys was the only one in his life that Jeshux had ever heard or would even tolerate calling him Jes and its familiarity put him at ease and allowed him to focus on other matters of importance.
Jeshux paused in his three hundred and sixty degree sweep of the city and backtracked over to the northwestern part of sector A. He trained his binoculars on a point at the far west end of the Avenue of East and West- a wide boulevard that ran the full breath of the city, from east to west, and intersected the north/south Royal Avenue where it stopped directly in front of the palace- and fiddled with the adjustments until he was absolutely sure that the delicate instrument was fully focused. Sure enough his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him and Jeshux lowered the binoculars from his eyes and bowed his head in contemplation of what he had just seen.
“Damn,” he whispered.
“What was that sir?” the mercenary asked.
“I need to speak with General Kahill, right now!” Jeshux spoke up.
Correctly interpreting the urgency of the situation from the tone in the regent’s voice the transmitting microphone was placed in Jeshux hand as the general’s voice squawked over the speakers in less than three seconds.
“Yes, what is it?” the General demanded impatiently.
Jeshux ignored the man’s audacity and snapped into the microphone, “General Kahill, this is Commander General Jeshux DuTerriux Jules, Lord Regent of AnEerth and we have a serious problem here.” He reassessed the situation with his field glasses. “We have what appears to be a harashna open at the west end of the Avenue of East and West.”
“You have got to be joking,” Kahill scoffed.
“General, you’re an imbecile if you don’t take this seriously,” Jeshux said with a dangerous edge. “We’re in the middle of what very well could be the final battle of the longest war in AnEerth’s history and there is a HARASHNA open in the city! Can you comprehend what I’m telling you?” Jeshux was close to yelling his frustration at having to deal with a pompous dunderhead like General Kahill. Unfortunately, despite all of his faults, the General was a brilliant strategist and more than capable in his duties.
“Yes,” Kahill answered without hesitation. All of the confrontation left his voice as he asked, “What do you propose we do about it?”
Relief flooded through Jeshux. Kahill was willing to cooperate and that was good because the last thing he needed was to have to fight the men in his command as well as the enemy. “There’s not much we can do about the harashna directly,” he said. “But I want you to prepare the palace defenses immediately because I can guarantee that we’re definitely not going to like whatever comes through it.”
“As you wish,” General Kahill acquiesced. “Is there anything special that you’d like done?”
Jeshux answered on a hunch, “Make sure that everyone’s prepared to face brown and green robes.”
“You think it will be the Archmagi.” It was less a question than a statement.
“Precisely,” Jeshux confirmed. “You have to understand what Florencii has done to those people. The Gonders in this state of necromancy are truly a force to be reckoned with.
“I understand,” the General assured him.
“Good,” Jeshux said. “I’m also going to send up some mercs to blockade the streets around the palace. I want them positioned in a fashion similar to the blockades I’ve set up here. I also want the roofs and attics of every building in the surrounding area manned by as many snipers as can be comfortably stationed.”
“Understood,” You could almost hear the nod in Kahill’s voice. “What’s the harashna doing now?”
“Just looking pretty,” Jeshux said as he looked through the binoculars again. “But I suggest you get some men watching it ASAP so that you know the moment something happens.”
“Ten four,” Kahill acknowledged. “I’ll keep you updated, Kahill out.” And with that the communications relay went dead.
Jeshux passed off the transmitting microphone and took one last look at the rainbow portal swirling off in the distance before he returned his attention to the rest of the ailing city.


Candlelite kept his rifle at the ready, although he was not given much opportunity to use it. He let the werewolves range freely while he marched somewhere in their middle. There were so many of them now that Candlelite had the sensation that he was swimming in a river that flowed through the streets. The first two werewolves that he had encountered stayed close to either side of him and acted as a buffer between him and their brethren. Any of the enemy that even came close was taken care of with the quickness by Candlelite’s new friends.
Candlelite was struck by the variety among the beasts. They ranged in size and shape much as people did and their fur displayed a remarkable array of tints and colors, lengths and thickness. While the creatures were definitely more humanoid than wolf in body structure their decidedly more feral nature was easily distinguished by the fact that the werewolves were more inclined to lope along on all fours and saved coming into a two legged stance for when they grappled with their prey. Candlelite also noticed that it was this wild animal characteristic about them that separated them from him. For while their physical similarities were much the same Candlelite was definitely cast from a larger mold and retained many more of his human characteristics after his transformation. He also noted that the werewolves also did not heal the way that he and Absinthe did, as a few of the beasts limped along nursing injuries long after they would have ceased to bother him. One thing Candlelite became certain of was that the werewolves were positively more intelligent than any other of the canine or lupine species. They seemed to have almost no trouble understanding any of his spoken commands and it was as if the amber wolf that he wore did not make it so that the werewolves understood what he was saying so much as it made them more inclined to obey the intention behind words that he spoke.
The head of the lupine column turned a corner ahead of him and Candlelite heard the vvvwhump-vvvwhump of plasma rifles followed by a mercenary war rally. As he ran toward the corner he knew the one thing he had been dreading had finally happened, his werewolves had run into friendly fire. Cursing his lack of communications capability Candlelite pushed his way through the throng of animals around him while sending out a mental command for the werewolves who had reached the corner to halt, something else that he had found the Lupelire allowed him to do.
The entire column and Candlelite skidded around the corner to see mercenary soldiers armed with plasma rifles and particle swords defending themselves bravely against the werewolves that had managed to turn the corner and elude his mental command.
“No!” Candlelite boomed, allowing his preternatural roar to creep into his natural baritone.
The combative werewolves immediately broke from their opponents with a sneered growl and casually dismissed their mercenary adversaries before returning docilely to stare at them from behind Candlelite.
“Candlelite!” McAriicoys gaped at the spectacle of werewolves that retreated at a stern command from their master like trained hounds from a fox hunt.
“McAriicoys?” Candlelite rushed forward in surprise, giving his lupine cohorts a mental command that left them where they sat with long tongues lolling and tails wagging. “Where’s Absinthe?”
“I don’t know?” McAriicoys admitted. “She was with us for some time after you disappeared but shortly after I separated from Jeshux I lost track of her.”
“Candlelite!” a familiar roar erupted in Candlelite’s ear and he was crushed in a loving embrace. “Ahh, you’re a sight for sore eyes. We thought we’d lost ya!”
“Don’t exaggerate Vohrmint,” Candlelite gasped as he shrugged out of the big man’s arms.
“I’m not exaggeratin’,” Vohrmint countered as he let go of the smaller man. “But fer sure none of us expected you to return with a stampeding vanguard of the whore dogs, regardless of what Nefarious said your wolf trinket was capable of.”
“Yes, regardless,” Candlelite cast a sidelong glance at his furred companions. “But that aside for a moment my friend, have you seen Absinthe?”
“Alas, no lad,” Vohrmint confessed in the face of the younger man’s obvious anguish. “But I’m sure she’s safe. After all she wears the queen’s charm.” He smiled reassuringly.
“My lord,” a blood coated merc ran up hurriedly and held out a transmitting mic to McAriicoys. “Here sir, it’s the Lord Regent!”
McAriicoys snatched the communicator with one hand and dismissed the com-grunt with the other before he barked, “This is McAriicoys!”
“McAriicoys,” Jeshux presence leapt from the speaker. “Finally, we have got a serious problem developing and I need you to address it on the double!”
“What’s brewing Jes?”
“First tell me what the werewolf situation’s doing.”
“Everything’s doing fine on that front Jeshux,” Candlelite broke in. “They’re traveling with me courtesy of the Lupelire.”
“Candlelite, it’s good to hear from you. We were worried.” Jeshux voice was tense and his impatience only slightly shadowed the genuine warmth of his concern. “It’s good to know that I don’t have a rampaging werewolf hunting party to worry about either.”
“What are you worrying about?” McAriicoys asked.
There was a longish sort of pause before the speaker crackled with the Lord Regents response.
“McAriicoys, I’m sorry to send you on this mission,” Jeshux began. “But I can’t trust anyone else to do this.” There was another pause, shorter this time, and then Jeshux resumed. “A harashna has just manifested inside of sector A. So far there hasn’t been any activity and I’ve made General Kahill aware of the implication its presence poses.”
“Where?” McAriicoys asked.
“The west end of the Avenue of East and West,” Jeshux said. “McAriicoys, it’s sure to be Florencii.”
“I’m afraid that I have to agree with you,” McAriicoys concurred. “I’ll head everyone over there immediately.”
“Thank you my friend,” Jeshux voice came back full of relief.
“One more thing though,” McAriicoys began. “Absinthe seems to be missing.”
Jeshux sighed. “I’ll do what I can to locate her.”
“Thank you sir,” Candlelite interjected.
“No problem, Jeshux out!”
“Alright everyone,” McAriicoys shouted as he turned toward his men. “We have a situation on the Avenue of East and West. Let’s get over there on the double!”
“Yes sir!” the combined response from the troops boomed.
Less than ten minutes after Jeshux spotted the harashna McAriicoys led the response team to contain the situation.


General Kahill stood on a small balcony high atop one of the taller spires of the palace observing the harashna as it pulsed and fluctuated. The swirled mess of color had grown slowly but steadily as he watched it. The General had ordered a thousand of his best soldiers to take up positions on the palace side of the massive gateway and even now he could see the first to arrive of the many ranks to come.
“Tell the men I want double time.” The General spoke calmly into a hand mic to one of the nameless subordinates that were stationed under his command.
“Yes sir!” was the snappy response and Kahill could see as the little dots below him increase their speed.
Looking back at the harashna he noticed that it seemed to have stabilized, its wild fluctuations not quite as wild as they were, and it had settled on one size, mostly. This was definitely not a good sign.
“Triple time!” the General barked into the mic. “Prepare for hostile contact! I repeat hostile contact imminent!”
“Yes sir!” that generic response came again and the little dots began to move even faster.
From somewhere deep within the ceaseless motion that was the harashna a new kind of movement began, less extravagant and easier for the senses to comprehend and it was this movement that General Kahill dreaded.
When the first of the ensorcelled Gonders burst from the harashna they found many of the men and women of the imperial army confused at being confronted by what appeared to be their unarmed countrymen. This confusion only lasted long enough for the Gonders to catch sight of their prey and burst into a frenzy of uncanny speed. Long distances were covered in a blink of an eye and just as their first line of defense was about to be breached the imperial soldiers opened fire. Hot plasma burned through the undead as volley after volley of machinegun fire cut them to pieces. Those who were not fatally incapacitated terrified the soldiers around them by continuing to advance even after they had lost one or more of their appendages.
More and more of the undead army attacked as a seemingly endless stream continued to pour from the depths of the harashna. Their mouths gaped with rotting teeth and the foul stench of death. Their hands were outstretched with broken nailed fingers curled into rending claws as the human beasts swarmed the first ranks of defenders and overwhelmed them. Terrified screams of agony ripped through the air as the Gonders ripped handfuls of flesh from the living. Although the increasingly desperate soldiers felled the creatures by scores they were pitifully few against an army that amounted to an entire nation.
General Kahill watched in disbelief as his men were slowly overrun by the necromonic minions of the Archmagi. Quickly did the realization dawn that he would have to signal a retreat but an ingrained stubbornness, a trait he was well known for, refused to let him give the order that would save the lives of the brave men and women below him and so he watched as they died.
Without warning, from the numerous side streets that intersected the Avenue of East and West, a salivating horde of werewolves burst forth and fell upon the undead Gonders, they rent and tore the ensorcelled people until their bodies were scarcely recognizable as human.
“What the hell is going on down there?” Kahill screamed into his hand mic as he groped blindly for his binoculars with his free hand.
The microphone’s speaker crackled with static and the General was about to key it and demand a response when a voice suddenly replied, “General Kahill! This is lieutenant McAriicoys and the werewolves are under command of Lord Candlelite via the Lupelire!”
“Oh thank heaven,” the General breathed as he finally found his binoculars and brought them to bear on the chaos below. What he witnessed nearly took his

breath away for as he watched McAriicoys lead his mercenaries onto the battlefield and join the werewolves in their wanton slaughter of the Gonders. The brief reprieve brought by this new confusion in the battle was all that the imperial soldiers needed to rally their defenses. They gave a mighty cheer that even the General heard high above, regrouped and renewed their attack.
For a while it seemed as if the forces of good might prevail as the Gonders were held at bay but then the defenders were once more put into a position of slow retreat by a renewed surge in carnivorous energy.
“General, I’m not sure how much longer we can hold out here,” McAriicoys voice sounded even more stressed translated through the static of the hand mic.
“Don’t worry,” Kahill responded. “I’ve initiated a plan for your retreat. Just hold tight for a few more moments then on my mark begin to fall back, force fields will be placed between you and the harashna. The wizards are just finishing with fields around the rest of the palace and will be in your area shortly.”
“Ten four,” McAriicoys answered. “But get them here quick!”
Kahill scanned the area behind the battlefield and was relieved to discover that the contingent of wizards were closer than he had anticipated them being. He watched as the white robed men and women took up their positions.
“All right McAriicoys, on my mark!” the General barked into his hand mic as the wizards began the complex series of hand gestures that were part of the force field spell. “And…now!” he ordered and brought the battle back into his line of sight.
McAriicoys gave the signal to retreat. The mercenaries and imperial soldiers began to move backwards toward the wizards, always making sure to keep their adversaries in front of them. The werewolves continued to mangle the uncaring Gonders. The soldiers crossed the invisible line that marked the boundary of the force field and the werewolves turned together as one giant pack and made their own retreat. As quick as the ensorcelled Gonders were they were easily outdistanced by the animals once they dropped to all fours and the werewolves crossed into the safe zone just as the spell was finished.
The force field shimmered to life and neatly sheared in half any Gonder who happened to be caught in it. Others that were less quick bounced harmlessly off of it. The few zombified monsters that happened to make it inside the perimeter were quickly eliminated by mercenaries while their imperial comrades cheered their success at not dying.
Their enthusiasm was short lived however for the Gonders, being denied their live prey, wasted no time in falling upon the dead and dying in what was a cannibalistic feast of insanity. Many of the imperial soldiers lost their stomachs on the clean cobbles while the seasoned mercenaries further hardened their hearts to what was yet another atrocity of this tragic war. Even the cold General Kahill lowered his binoculars and turned away from the dreadful sights below.


Absinthe sat on an antique wooden chair and watched the conflict swirl around her from the spot she had secreted herself not long after the fight for possession of the capital had begun. Absinthe was a brave young woman and did not think herself a coward by any means but after having been through so much in such a short span of time she found she just could not participate in any more of the mayhem. She knew the others were probably worried about her, especially Candlelite, but still she sat and contemplated everything that had brought her to this moment. It was hard to believe mere months before she had been a giant grizzly bear contently living a quiet forest life with barely any recollection that she had been anything but. But that was another life, one that was lost forever and could never be retrieved. It was also a life without Candlelite.
Candlelite, she wondered where he was right then and if he was all right. The city was lit more from the glow of the hundred different fires that burned throughout its expanse than it was by the sun which was about to set. Absinthe prayed that wherever Candlelite was in the massive city that he was safe from the harm she watched pass from every direction. The street below her was littered with corpses from both armies and she fingered the medallion that had been given her by the queen. She sent out a prayer for Candlelite’s safety for what was perhaps the thousandth time when she heard a noise behind her.
“It’s sort of pretty in its own way,” a voice spoke from behind her.
Absinthe spun off of her chair and brought her rifle up sharply as she stood to face the figure behind her.
“Who are you?” Absinthe demanded.
“A friend maybe, in another life.” The person stepped from the gloom to stand in the fading light that filtered through the grimy windows.
“Archmagi!” Absinthe gasped in recognition. “But what are you doing here?”
“The same as you I think,” Florencii ventured. “Contemplating the course of my life and how I’ve brought myself here.” The Archmagi gestured towards the other woman’s weapon. “You won’t need that my dear. I mean you no harm.”
Absinthe removed her finger from the trigger but only slightly lowered the barrel. “You didn’t really answer my question,” she accused. There was tension in her tone.
“Do you mind if I sit?” Florencii asked, indicating the only other chair in the room. At Absinthe’s nod of assent she settled into the seat. “That is better. Why don’t you join me?” she suggested.
“So you’d like to know why I’m here,” the Archmagi mused as Absinthe retook her seat across from the sorceress. “I’ve been asking myself that very same question for some time now. Do you know how old I am Absinthe? I am almost twelve hundred years old. Quite possibly the oldest woman on the planet, not considering the remote possibility of some secluded hermit unknown somewhere, and I’ve spent the majority of my life in search of one thing and one thing only. And do you know what that one thing is?” Absinthe shook her head and Florencii answered, “Power. And do you know what that search has got me?” Again Absinthe shook her head and Florencii answered sadly, “Absolutely nothing.”
“So why don’t you stop?” Absinthe asked.
“I’m afraid that it might be too late for that now.” Florencii smiled bitterly.
“No!” Absinthe insisted and lowered her weapon. “It’s never too late. You can always change your mind and pursue other things. Like this war,” the young woman protested. “It’s so wrong and you’re a good person, I sensed it almost from the moment we met. Why don’t you join us, forget your quest for power and fight Harmony?!”
Florencii smiled again but this time with amusement. “You’re a sweet child Absinthe but it’s not that simple.”
“Why?” Absinthe’s compassion had her close to tears. “What’s so complicated about it?”
“After I helped you to escape with the Lupelire Harmony had me tortured for hours for my betrayal.” Florencii showed Absinthe her wrists and hiked up her robes so that she could see her ankles.
“How horrible,” Absinthe said as tears declared freedom from her eyes.
“Indeed,” Florencii agreed. “But not as terrible as what he’ll do when he discovers the Lupelire is missing.”
“What will he do?”
“There are only two things he can do Absinthe,” Florencii told her. “He will either risk losing the strength of my army by killing me or, and this is the most likely, he will kill my physical self and keep my soul imprisoned for all eternity.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because my dear, it is the only way he can get around the fact that my army can only be controlled by me.” Florencii sighed and stood up. “With my corporeal spirit imprisoned he will gain ultimate control of all the Gonders. But now I must leave for the change will be upon you momentarily I think.”
It was true. Absinthe could already feel the beast stir within her and she also stood from her chair.
“No my traitorous bitch,” a new voice intruded. “I don’t think either of you will be leaving just yet.”
Absinthe’s rifle rose swiftly and her finger was ready on the trigger while Florencii bowed her head solemnly.
“Hello Harmony,” Florencii whispered. “I had wondered when you would make the scene.”
A shadow darker than the rest detached itself from its brothers and became a black robed man. Two green orbs opened from within the cowl of the robe and began to leak iridescent phosphorescence into the tense atmosphere of the room.
“Hello again Chosen One,” Harmony purred in greeting to Absinthe. “And as for you Archmagi, it appears that your treachery knows no bounds.”
Florencii turned and lifted her eyes to Harmony’s. “My conscience drives me away from the treachery I’ve already committed but we both know that excuse will never be yours.”
Harmony laughed mirthlessly. “Too true, my treachery is driven by lusts of a nature that no man could comprehend. Conscience has nothing to do with it, you are right about that. Unfortunately that’s not all you are right about.”
“What do you mean?” Florencii’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“I truly thank you for your confession.” Harmony drifted closer.
“Not another step?” Absinthe shouted.
Ignoring Absinthe Harmony’s voice dripped with venom as he continued, “But did you believe that I would give you the keys to such an awesome power and leave myself subject to your involvement in wielding your army?”
Florencii’s eyes suddenly widened with horror as they darted to the green tendrils that leaked from the sorcerer’s cowl. “No Harmony, you can’t!”
“Ah, and there is the sweet dawn of realization,” Harmony murmured and then he raised his arms and intoned, “Yes Archmagi Florencii, I have become a soul eater, death incarnate, capable of devouring the very essence of life itself and the first life I shall consume WILL BE YOURS!”
“No!” Florencii screamed as the dark wizard rushed her like a gale force wind, embraced her in his arms and brought his lips to hers.
At the same time Absinthe’s rifle clattered to the floor as the change overtook her. No, not now, she thought as a snarl broke from her clenched jaw. Not now! Then with a powerful spasm the young woman hit the floor, landing next to her rifle.
Absinthe watched through watery eyes as the Archmagi’s feet left the floor and began to kick wildly and then with a final jerk came to a stop.
Harmony tossed the sorceress’ shriveled corpse aside with preternatural ease and wiped a sleeved arm across his mouth. “Ah,” he sighed. “Now that was refreshing.” He turned his gaze to Absinthe where she writhed on the floor.
“You know that really doesn’t look like it’s very comfortable,” he sneered down at her.
Absinthe moaned in pain as the transformation twisted and reconfigured her body as it saw fit.
“No, not comfortable at all,” Harmony mused as he glided closer. “Now whatever shall we do with you?” he asked as he knelt next to her and stroked a stray strand of hair back from her head.
Before he could touch her though a brilliant flash of light streaked from the medallion around Absinthe’s neck and struck Harmony’s outstretched hand with a snap, crackle and resounding pop.
“Nooo!” Harmony wailed and snatched his hand back before he fled the building nearly as fast as lightning.
Absinthe watched with relief as the sorcerer fled before she closed her eyes and lost consciousness.


Elsewhere in the city Candlelite was going through a similar transformation. The change was upon him and although he had removed himself from the presence of his comrades so as not to disturb them with his curse they still flinched at the inhuman sounds that emanated from his place of hiding. The werewolves that surrounded these humans camped in the streets responded to the sounds with calls of their own and their howls echoed and reverberated off the many buildings that lined the Avenue of East and West.
When the change was complete Candlelite stood to his full height of nearly nine feet and let rip a long howl that dwarfed those of the werewolves while simultaneously and effectively silencing them. With a stealth that came natural to the state he was in Candlelite moved back towards his human allies who only became alerted to his presence when all the werewolves moved off to crowd around him, whining and nipping at him playfully. He sent them scattering with a short growl and strode gracefully over to where McAriicoys and Vohrmint were deep in discussion with the soldier who was in charge of the imperials under General Kahill.
“You know my friend, just when I think I’ve gotten used to your peculiarity something new crops up to give me the willies,” Vohrmint grinned up at Candlelite’s horrific countenance.
Candlelite lolled his tongue and gave the man a playful slap on his back that almost knocked him off his feet.
“Ha, ha,” Vohrmint laughed. “Careful pal, I don’t think you realize your own strength.”
“Come on you two,” McAriicoys grunted. “This is no time for horseplay.”
Candlelite turned to McAriicoys and knelt down in front of him. He used one claw tipped finger to trace one word on the cobbles, Absinthe.
“You’re going to look for her?” McAriicoys asked and Candlelite nodded his massive head. “I figured as much and I can’t say I blame you, can you leave us your ‘wolves?”
Again Candlelite nodded and traced another word on the ground. You.
“They’ll respond to me,” McAriicoys made the question into a statement. “Good. Happy hunting.” Sadness crept over his face for a brief moment. “Find her boy and keep her safe.”
Candlelite rose, placed his clawed hand on McAriicoys shoulder and nodded again. Some instinct told him that the old mercenary’s concern went deeper than he realized, it was a hurt he tried well to hide. He turned to Vohrmint and repeated the gesture.
“Good luck lad.” Vohrmint patted Candlelite on his furry chest before he loped off into the battle stricken city to search out the whereabouts of his love.

The streets were mostly dark except where towering infernos raged, entire buildings engulfed in flame. The smoke from these fires hung heavy in the air and confused even the heightened abilities of Candlelite’s sensitive nose.
Where these fires burnt was where the heaviest of the fighting was concentrated and so Candlelite avoided these areas as he lost himself in the single minded determination to find Absinthe.
He deftly navigated his way through a debris filled alley and was brought up short by a familiar scent. He temporarily forgot all about Absinthe and veered off in a direction opposite of the one he had intended in order to follow the new scent. This new target led him directly into a roving band of goblins that had followed the aerial scouting of half a dozen vampires. With a series of deafening squeals and screeches the viscous, winged creatures began swooping to distract him so that their grounded cohorts could have a chance to close in.
Candlelite howled his frustration and ripped one of the beasts from the sky as the goblins launched their attack. With a mighty shrug of his shoulders he heaved the struggling vampire back into the air where it collided with one of its brothers and sent the two of them crashing into the side of a nearby building. The other four vampires flapped their wings to gain altitude and await the outcome of the conflict below.
Candlelite spun his furred body in a semi-circle and ripped the face clean off one of the goblins. Another of the green skinned, chain mailed goblins leapt over his fallen comrade and swung his scimitar at Candlelite, slicing deep into his shoulder before it landed behind him. Candlelite growled in rage and smashed a fist into the next goblin before turning towards the one at his back, who had its sword raised over its head with both hands, prepared to attack. He grabbed both of its arms and ripped them cleanly from its body and spun again to beat the next goblin back with the severed arms, using first one and then the other as he smashed the goblin into the cobbles.
The rest of the goblins took one look at the beast that raged before them, wildly swinging two bloody arms, and instantly turned tail to scatter into the four winds.
Candlelite heaved a deep breath as he watched the cowards run, dropped the arms and turned back to the scent he was tracking. It clung heavily to the air and stung his sensitive nostrils; this scent of pure evil told him that his prey was near.
Candlelite gained a new street somewhere in the capital’s center and rounding a corner he caught a fleeting glimpse of a black robed figure as it darted into the entrance of a brick building, the tallest structure on the block.
As he moved to pursue the person the winds shifted and brought the sweet aroma of Absinthe. Candlelite quickly turned and sighted her lumbering form headed toward him from further down the street before another shift in the wind brought in a cloud of smoke and obscured her from his sight. She quickly broke from the smoke however and roared a greeting. Candlelite rushed to her side and wrapped his arms around her huge neck in a bear hug as she nuzzled and licked him excitedly. He released Absinthe and pointed behind him at the tall building that the black robed figure had disappeared into. She nodded in agreement for she had been pursuing the same person.
Side by side the two lovers ran toward the towering structure, towards Harmony and their destiny.


“…force fields are currently holding them at bay we have multiple platoons stationed by each one at every major street and byway,” McAriicoys voice issued from Jeshux hand mic as the Lord Regent kept his binoculars trained on the harashna, watching as it continued to allow the zombified Gonders access to his city.
“Ok. Hold your position for now. We have about sixteen breaches in the city walls covering the west, east, and south sides but they’ve all been mostly contained. Most of our infiltration is coming from the main gates in the south wall and I’ve ordered more men into that area to see if we can’t stem the flow. I’ll let you know when or if we’re successful. Keep me up to date on the Gonder situation, Jeshux out.” Jeshux keyed off the mic and swept his binoculars over to view the south gate just in time to witness the timely arrival of his troops as a fresh wave of attackers poured in from the outside.
As he watched his men and women engage the enemy Jeshux almost felt relief at the thought that just maybe his city might survive the night when screams and the sounds of fighting reached his ears from the floors below his feet.
What now? He thought.
“Alright everyone!” he shouted to the soldiers around him. “Battle stations. It sounds like we’ve got incoming unfriendlies!” The order was unneeded though and Jeshux was grateful that his troops were already moving into position before he had even begun to issue it.
The roof Jeshux had taken over as his command outpost only had one access point, a doorway that opened into a single set of stairs that led down to the floor below and were barely wide enough for two men to ascend or descend. Besides the buildings incredible height and centralized location this had been a deciding factor in Jeshux choice for this particular building to be his roost and it was this door that every eye and rifle on the buildings large roof was now trained.
The noise from downstairs continued for several minutes while those on the roof waited, then there was one final scream and everything went silent. Trigger fingers tensed and still the mix of mercenaries and imperial soldiers waited with a patience born from many years of experience in the combat arts. The handle on the door began to jingle and then stopped. We’re being toyed with, Jeshux thought. Something’s not right here. The sound of breaking glass from behind startled everyone and Jeshux turned in time to see a dark robed figure with green smoke trailing from its cowl rise through the air above the rooftop.
“Harmony!” Jeshux shouted. “Everyone, about face!”
The soldiers spun, aimed and fired their rifles in a heartbeats time. Harmony raised one hand, hot plasma and bullets were deflected harmlessly. Harmony raised his other hand, squeezed his fingers into a fist and pulled his arm above his head. All of the rifles flew from the grasps of the startled soldiers, over the sorcerer’s head and clattered harmlessly onto the street below. Overcoming their surprise the soldiers quickly drew their pistols only to suffer an immediate repeat of Harmony’s first response. Undaunted the men and women unsheathed their swords and began to advance. Harmony uncovered his hooded head and smiled maliciously.
“Hold your positions!” Jeshux barked. He had sat and calmly watched as Harmony display his power and he knew what would come next if his people attacked the sorcerer by hand.
Harmony’s grin grew more viscous and he slowly floated down to land lightly on the roof’s edge. “Good evening Jeshux,” he greeted with oily smoothness.
“It was looking to be one until a moment ago,” Jeshux countered.
“Does my presence here disturb you,” Harmony asked.
“You know it does,” Jeshux told him. “Now what do you want?”
“Ah,” Harmony breathed. “Only, your SOUL!” The sorcerer launched himself at Jeshux.
Before he could reach the Lord Regent one of the mercenaries intercepted Harmony and the two men hit the ground. Harmony rolled atop the merc and green fire lanced from his eyes and pierced the heavens. The mercenary screamed in mortal agony as a vaporous shape was ripped from his mouth and flowed into Harmony’s. The sorcerer laughed and stood up wiping a sleeve across his face.
He turned back to his intended victim and Harmony’s eyes burned with a brighter green as he told Jeshux, “Very tasty indeed but still I wonder what your soul tastes like.”
A crack like thunder was heard from beyond. Everyone turned to see the stairway door explode off its hinges as the hulking form of a werewolf hit the roof. It spun around and demolished the outer structure in which the door had lived. Once this was done the werewolf turned back to the humans, whom of which all but Harmony and Jeshux had mouths hung agape in amazement, and waited while from the newly exposed hole in the roof came a grizzly bear in a shower of brick and timber. The bear roared in pain from the impact of its entrance and the werewolf answered with a howl of sympathy.
“It’s the Chosen Ones!” an imperial soldier called out excitedly and enthusiastic cheers rose from the soldiers which were nearly as violent as the double entrance they had just witnessed.
It was while everyone’s attention was thus occupied that Harmony seized his opportunity. He grabbed Jeshux from behind, green fire again erupted from his eyes, and the Lord Regent screamed.
However Candlelite had not been distracted by his own presence and by the time the green fire had burst from Harmony’s eyes he had covered the distance between himself and the sorcerer and wrenched his friend from the soul eaters grasp. The green retreated quick as a shot back into Harmony’s eyes and tore through the soles of his feet, lifting the sorcerer off of the ground and throwing him across the roof. Candlelite laid his unconscious friend on the roof as Absinthe barreled past them and pounced on the dazed wizard with bone cracking weight. Harmony’s chest was crushed and the breath was forcibly squeezed from his lungs but this was the incentive he needed to regain his senses. The air around him and Absinthe became absolutely still and every tuft of fur stood out from Absinthe’s body. With a tremendous boom she was separated from Harmony, head over tail through the air and she crashed into Candlelite who had been advancing from her rear.
Candlelite regained his paws and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. His eyes refocused and he saw Harmony again kneeling next to Jeshux as the Lord Regent lay unconscious. Already on all fours Candlelite sprang into action, charging the mad magician with a deep growl, and at the last second he jumped through the air with the intention of biting Harmony’s head clean from his shoulders.
It was at this moment that a terrible thing occurred. It seems that Harmony was partial to having his head upon his shoulders for he turned at the sound of Candlelite’s growl and as he turned he brought Jeshux around so that the unconscious man was between him and the leaping werewolf. It all happened so fast that there was no time for Candlelite to check himself and instead of Harmony’s neck between his jaws he tore into Jeshux collar bone and severed his friend’s jugular with his razor sharp teeth. Even this was enough to partially stun the sorcerer and Harmony released Jeshux into the werewolf’s care and launched himself backwards fifteen feet before he stopped his retreat.
Candlelite came up onto both knees with Jeshux still form cradled in his arms like a small child. He sat that way for a moment, not quite comprehending what he was looking at, and then he released a long, mournful howl before he tenderly laid his dead friend on the roof and rose to his feet.
Absinthe came up beside him and gave Jeshux corpse a quick sniff before she raised her head to look at Candlelite. Tears wet the fur around his eyes as he gazed down at her and then the two lovers turned their heads at the same time to fix Harmony with twin stares of pure hatred.
Harmony steadily returned the stares of his enemies’ and lifted the cowl of his robe over his head. “Well Chosen Ones, it seems to be down to you and me,” he gloated. “I may not have taken Jeshux soul but I thank you all the same for taking his life.” He let loose an evil cackle of delight.
Enraged by their adversary’s callousness Candlelite and Absinthe both released a growl and advanced on Harmony, carefully stepping over Jeshux as they did so.
Harmony calmly watched the pair for a moment before he began to match their steps with his own, retreating backwards toward the edge of the roof. Candlelite and Absinthe saw that their foe intended to escape from the rooftop and broke into a dead run which Harmony instantly matched. He hit the half wall that encircled the roof and tumbled over backwards. Candlelite ran even faster and without considering the consequences he reached the edge of the roof and leapt into the abyss after the magician.
Absinthe stopped short of making the same leap. She planted her paws on the half wall and she looked over the edge. She watched as Candlelite collided with Harmony and carried the sorcerer down, down, down until they both smashed into the cobbles below with a distant thud which barely reached her sensitive ears.
Grief washed through her entire body as a cloud of dust rose off of the ground and obscured her view. Absinthe turned her head and closed her eyes as tears soaked her fur.

As she approached the shallow crater in the middle of the street Absinthe could just make out two forms through the slowly settling dust. She approached cautiously through the debris that had been scattered over the area by the impact, careful not to cut the pads of her paws on a sharp piece of shattered cobble. She reached the crater and could see that Candlelite had landed mostly on top of Harmony. He covered a large portion of the magician’s body with his bulk, only Harmony’s arms and head were visible from under the werewolf. Both ‘wolf and man’s eyes were closed and their features were serene with the peace of death.
The huge bear picked her way down to Candlelite’s side, lay her head on her lover’s back and made a mournful sound in the back of her throat. She had no way of knowing exactly how long she stayed that way when she was surprised by movement under her. Absinthe jerked back and watched in amazement as Candlelite began to breathe stuttering gasps. With a final shudder his breathing steadied and his eyes fluttered open. Planting his hands in the rubble on either side of Harmony he heaved himself off of the dead sorcerer and rose unsteadily to his clawed feet. He turned, looked at Absinthe and let out a small yip of greeting.
Absinthe rose on her hind legs, wrapped Candlelite in a crushing bear hug and started to lick his face excitedly. He licked her back and with a mighty heave pushed her off of him.
Climbing out of the crater Candlelite sent out a mental command and then settled heavily to the ground to await its answer. He did not have to wait long before two werewolves loped in from the distance. They ran straight to their master and began prancing around him happily.
Candlelite rose, made his way back into the crater and went to where Harmony laid shattered and broken much the same as the street around him. Looking down at the sorcerer Candlelite could scarcely believe that he was dead and it was all over. He reached out with both hands, grasped both sides of Harmony’s head, gave it a twist, and pulled it from his shoulders with a sickening squelch. Candlelite held the dismembered head in one hand and raised it high over his own head before he let out a long howl of triumph and tossed it out of the crater to the waiting werewolves.
Without wasting a second one of the werewolves picked up the gruesome trophy and the two of them loped off back in the direction they had come from.
Climbing back out of the crater Candlelite looked over at Absinthe before he headed toward the building he had recently fallen from. With a final look at Harmony’s headless corpse Absinthe followed him.


In the weeks that followed the death of Harmony McAriicoys and General Kahill, with help from the other lords of AnEerth, pushed the minions of the Dark Sorcerer beyond the walls of the capital and scattered them to the far corners of the globe. Mega’N once again assumed the mantle of High Queen, although reluctantly, and began organizing a joint funeral to honor both the Lord Regent Jeshux and the High King Zakeriah who had passed into Death’s waiting arms mere hours after the Chosen Ones victory over the forces of evil. Repairs to the many damaged portions of the city were begun and volunteers from all over AnEerth flocked to participate in its restoration. During all of this time Candlelite kept himself secluded as he mourned day and night over his role in Jeshux death. Absinthe was seen more frequently but mostly she stayed at her lover’s side offering whatever comfort he would allow her to give him.
It was a week after the night of the final battle against Harmony when Dirsellia, capital city of AnEerth held the funeral for both its lost king and regent, both hero’s beholden of the type of honor that legends are made of. It seemed as if half the planet had turned out for the funerals. Not only was the city packed nigh to overflowing but the blasted plains around it were littered with tents and campfires. Individuals from every country had arrived to pay their respects until they had amassed in numbers that far exceeded those of even Harmony’s far stretched army.
The funeral was a short affair with many speeches about the many virtues of those who had passed made by those who had known and loved them. While officially a funeral for King Zakeriah and Regent Jeshux it was also a celebration for all who had fought and perished so that good and freedom may triumph against evil and tyranny.
After the bodies of the king and regent were laid to rest in the national cemetery Candlelite begged leave of those around him and headed back to the palace and the rooms that he shared with Absinthe. He was almost to the palace when his keen sense of smell told him that he was being followed so he stopped to wait for whoever it was to catch up to him.
“Ah, there you are!” A female voice caused Candlelite to turn and he saw the black clad form of Sefu Atarle approaching him.
“What do you want?” Candlelite snarled.
“Hey now, watch the hostility,” Sefu raised her palms in a gesture of peace. “The queen sent me to find you.”
“Oh,” Candlelite’s tone softened a bit. “Well here I am.”
“Yeah, anyway she sent me to tell you that she would like you to visit her chambers tonight around midnight.”
“And if I say no?” Candlelite asked.
“I took it to be more of a request than an invitation,” Sefu told him.
Candlelite’s shoulders drooped in defeat; he just did not have the energy to sustain his defiance any longer. “Ok, tell her I’ll be there.”
“Look I know we’ve had a rocky past and I don’t blame you for not wanting to be friends,” Sefu said. “But I want you to know that although I may not be a nice person this whole war and my involvement in it have made me start to question the way I live.” Sefu kind of shuffled her feet and she cast her eyes to the ground before she looked back at him. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Candlelite continued to stare at the assassin for long seconds after her apology before he nodded his head and said, “Thank you Sefu, I thought you smelled different.” Without another word he turned and strode into the palace while Sefu frowned after him.

It was a quarter ‘til midnight when Candlelite rose from the chair that he had been sitting in since he had returned from the funeral. Absinthe had gone to bed a few hours before and slept soundly. Both of them were in their human forms thanks to personal stasis spells that the queen had ordered cast over them. Mega’N’s reasoning was that they would be more comfortable traversing the palace at night if they did not have to destroy every door they might encounter. Candlelite had to admit it was sound logic and both he and Absinthe had agreed to have the spells cast.
Absinthe, Candlelite’s thoughts suddenly shifted gears as he quietly closed the door behind him and headed to the queen’s sleeping chamber, oh sweet Absinthe. He had barely spoke a half a dozen words to her since she had returned from the funeral and although he felt bad about it Candlelite was still too caught up in his grief to do anything to close the rift that had grown between them. Absinthe was completely understanding about his feelings though and did not push him. She only gave him unconditional love and patience while she waited for him to sort through his confusion and come to terms with his warring emotions.
Candlelite’s thoughts were brought up short as he found himself in front of the two imperial guards who flanked the door to the queen’s chamber.
“She’s expecting you,” one of the guards told him as the other opened the door so that he may pass through.
“Your majesty!” he called as the door was shut behind him.
“Hello Candlelite,” Mega’N greeted as she emerged from the inner chamber that had been her bedroom in the days since the king’s death. “How have you been? We have all missed you of late.”
“As well as can be expected,” Candlelite shrugged. “I’m sorry I haven’t been much help this last week. I haven’t felt up to being around many people.”
“No need for explanations,” the queen said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Everyone understands everything you’ve been through.”
“Thank you, your majesty.” Candlelite bowed his head.
“Now, now, dear,” Mega’N chided as she grabbed his hand and patted it. “There’s no need to be so formal here. It’s after hours and we’re friends. Please, would you like to sit down?”
“Yes. Thank you…Mega’N.” Candlelite sat in the seat opposite the queen.
“There, that’s better.” Mega’N sighed as she reached for a bottle of wine. “Would you like a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“It’s been such a busy week,” Mega’N admitted and took a sip of wine. “Mmm, that is good.” She swished the wine around in the glass and savored another drink. “I imagine you’re wondering why I asked you to come and see me tonight.”
“Not really,” Candlelite answered honestly. “I’ve had other things on my mind.”
Mega’N laughed softly. “I’m sorry dear, I don’t mean to laugh it’s just surprising to hear you say that. Most people would have said yes even if they hadn’t.”
“I believe honesty in all things is very important,” Candlelite stated gravely. “They say on my world that ‘The Truth Will Set You Free’.”
“Indeed it will,” Mega’N said. “My husband believed the same thing. He was a very honest man.” A momentary look of sadness crossed her face. “You have to know that it tore him apart inside to treat Absinthe and you the way he did when you first came here. He felt that he had betrayed your trust and it ate away at him. He was actually somewhat relieved that Jeshux broke you out the way he did.” Mega’N laughed and took another drink of wine.
“We understood,” Candlelite told her. “We came to anyway and we never really held it against him. Neither of us can say that we wouldn’t have done the same thing in his position. I mean, he was weighing the safety of his entire planet against the happiness of two people.”
“The scale was only barely in favor of the planet,” Mega’N confided. “Never did Zakeriah undervalue human happiness.” She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “It’s good to hear you say these things. It works well with what I’m about to reveal to you.”
“Ok,” Candlelite said uncertainly.
“Nobody knows this,” Mega’N began. “But Zakeriah came out of his coma and spoke to me before he died.”
“He did? What did he say?” Candlelite blurted and his eyes went as wide as saucers. He was more interested in what the Queen was about to reveal than he had been about anything all week.
“It was just before I named Jeshux as regent. He told me he knew how the war would end and though he could not reveal it to me he was ready to pass,” Mega’N whispered. “And he asked me to talk to you, to ask you to do something for him.”
“Really? What? I’ll do it. Anything.”
Mega’N laughed at the young man’s eagerness. “Such enthusiasm. But you had better hear me out before you agree to anything. Zakeriah said that while he was in his coma he had been having a dream- a premonition if you will- and he said it was a dream of a glorious time for both AnEerth and Earth. He said that during this time the twin worlds both would become united under one king, a wise and kind man, full of compassion and light, who would lead the two worlds to peace and greatness. You are aware that the king and I never had any children of our own?” Mega’N asked, suddenly shifting gears.
“Um, I think I heard mention of it from somewhere,” Candlelite answered.
“Well, it’s true. So we haven’t anyone to be an heir to our throne,” Mega’N told him and then returned to what the king had told her. “So I asked him who this king was who would unite our worlds and do you know who he told me it was? Of course you don’t,” she answered for him. “Although by the expression on your face you may have guessed. He told me that this man, this great king would be you Candlelite.”
Candlelite’s entire body went numb with shock and his mouth fell open, shut and then fell open again.
“And so we come to the question which Zakeriah told me to ask of you.” Mega’N leaned further until she could take his hand in hers. “Will you, Candlelite, will you except this offer and take the throne as High King of AnEerth?”
“I don’t know what to say,” Candlelite stammered and he finally managed to get his mouth to stay shut.
“Don’t say anything yet,” Mega’N told him. “Think about it over the next week or so and let me know what you decide.” She let go of his hand, sat back in her chair and took a drink of her wine. “Talk it over with Absinthe for it is as much her decision as it is yours.”
“Of course, your majesty,” Candlelite slipped back into formality and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I need to go to bed.”
“Of course,” Mega’N kept her seat. “Perhaps, before long, I shall be calling you ‘Your Majesty’.”
Candlelite’s face turned red. Without another word he left the room and returned to his own chamber.


It was three weeks after he had spoke with the queen in her bed chamber and Candlelite had yet to give an answer to her question. He and Absinthe had just enjoyed a special meal with their friends in the royal dining hall and were recently returned to their rooms to enjoy an intimate evening discussion, something they had made a habit of since Candlelite’s depression had started to lift. More often or not their topic of discussion was whether or not they were comfortable accepting the responsibility of ruling an entire planet or, if King Zakeriah’s dream was to be taken seriously, the rule of two planets.
Tonight’s conversation was of less serious things though and it was interrupted by a gentle knock at their chamber door.
“It’s open,” Absinthe sang out happily while Candlelite continued to laugh at her last remark.
The door opened and in came McAriicoys, Vohrmint, and Max. McAriicoys and Vohrmint carried between them a plain wooden box about four and a half feet long.
“Ahoy there lovebirds!” Vohrmint loudly teased in greeting as he and McAriicoys sat the box on a bare table top.
‘Hello Vohrmint.” Absinthe got up from the couch she had been sharing with Candlelite and gave the big man a hug before greeting the other two men in the same fashion. “Max, have you been drinking?” She held the little scientist at arm’s length and frowned at him.
“Only always milady,” Max conceded with a belch. “Excuse me.”
Candlelite came up behind Absinthe and shook each of his friends’ hands in turn. “What’s in the box?” he asked when he got to McAriicoys.
The newly appointed Commander General of the mercenary army colored slightly and said, “Just a little something from us to you to show our appreciation for everything you’ve done.”
“Yep, a present fit for a king!” Max declared drunkenly which drew scowls from McAriicoys and Vohrmint.
“What do you mean by that?” Candlelite exchanged frowns with Absinthe. Although both had had many conversations concerning the queen’s proposition they had done so quietly and had made certain not to mention it to anyone. Furthermore, both of them were sure that the queen had kept Candlelite’s possible kingship to herself.
“Damnit Max!” Vohrmint bellowed and lightly cuffed the smaller man upside his head, being careful not to rattle his brains too much.
McAriicoys cleared his throat and said carefully, “To be honest Candlelite, there have been some rumors floating around the city.”
“What kind of rumors?” Candlelite asked just as carefully.
“That yur gonna be king,” Max slurred happily, which earned him another fresh set of glares, this time from all four of his companions. “What?” he asked with drunken innocence.
“I knew we should have left him in his cups,” Vohrmint whispered to McAriicoys.
“And just where did you hear such absurdities?” Absinthe demanded.
“At th’ bar,” Max intoned solemnly. “Of course.”
“And you actually validated those rumors among yourselves?” Absinthe demanded.
“Well at first we thought nothing of them,” Vohrmint assured her.
“But then I was talking to Queen Mega’N and she dropped some hints that I couldn’t ignore,” McAriicoys interrupted. He followed the look that passed between the young couple before confiding, “She told me about Zakeriah’s dream.”
“She told you?” Candlelite exclaimed.
“He damn near had to drag it out of her!” Vohrmint guffawed as his good humor shone through. “I was there and heard the whole argument. I believe the queen’s exact words had something to do with ‘imprisonment’ and ‘dungeons’.”
“It was not an argument,” McAriicoys argued, which sent Vohrmint into a fit of laughter that left him coughing. “But at one point she did threaten to have me thrown in the dungeons,” the mercenary admitted.
Absinthe looked at the two men crossly and Candlelite shook his head in disbelief. “And how did he find out?” the young man pointed at Max.
“At th’ bar,” Max repeated. “Di’n’t I say tha’ a’redy?”
“Ok then! How did the bar find out?” Candlelite threw his arms up in exasperation.
“I d’know,” Max said seriously. “Bu’ tha’s not th’ only place they’re talkin’ about it.”
“How the hell did this happen?” Candlelite raised his arms and his eyes to the ceiling as if his question was aimed at God.
“I don’t know son.” McAriicoys put a reassuring hand on Candlelite’s shoulder. “But if it’s any consolation most of the people in the city seem to support the idea.”
“Really?” Absinthe asked, surprised. She slipped her arm around Candlelite’s shoulder. “That’s some good news.”
“I suppose,” Candlelite grumbled. “Let’s table it for a moment. You still didn’t really answer my question. What’s in the box?”
“Ah, why don’t you open it and find out,” Vohrmint said with a gleam in his eyes as he held up a silver key.
“You locked it?” Candlelite was skeptical as he walked over to the box.
“It kinda contains a nashnal treshur,” Max explained.
Candlelite inserted the key into the keyhole and gave it a slight twist to the right. There was a soft click and the lid popped open a quarter of an inch. Candlelite left the key in the hole and lifted the lid. The inside of the box was lined in velvet, a royal blue in color, and contained a long scepter carved of ancient ironwood and only a little longer than a walking cane.
“What the hell?” Candlelite whispered. “This isn’t what I think it is, is it?”
Transfixed to the top of the scepter, with a high polish that reflected every light around it, was a gleaming white skull which stared up from empty eye sockets at the five people who stared down at it, two of them with eyes open very wide.
“Yep,” Max grinned. “Harmony.”
Candlelite quickly slammed the lid down on the box and relocked it.
“I don’t believe it.” Candlelite shook visibly as he tugged the key free of the lock. “What have you guys done?”
“Every king needs a symbol of his power.” Vohrmint kept his tone serious.
“I’m not king!” Candlelite exploded. “What the hell were you guys thinking?”
“No Candlelite, calm down,” McAriicoys said evenly.
“I will not calm down!” Candlelite pointed to his face. “You see this? This is me not being calm.”
“Candlelite!” McAriicoys used the voice of command. “You may not have realized it but whether you like it or not you will be king. Zakeriah foretold it coming to pass and his premonitions, though very few and very far apart, were never wrong. Never. Now the sooner you come to terms with this fact the happier you’ll be. No one can fight fate. You of all people should know this.”
Candlelite turned away from his friends, sank into the couch he had been sitting in when everyone had arrived and put his face into his hands. After a few deep breaths he lifted his head and said, “You’re right McAriicoys. I’ve known it every since Mega’N told me Zakeriah’s dream, I’ve just been in denial.” He looked at Absinthe. “I’m sorry Abbie but it’s no use fighting it any longer.”
Absinthe looked straight into her lover’s eyes and asked, “So you’ve decided then?”
“I don’t think I ever had a choice,” he admitted.
“Perhaps not,” Absinthe sighed. “Whatever may come I’ll always be by your side.” She walked over to sit beside him and took his hand in hers.
“Whoopee!” Max burst out drunkenly and danced a mad little jig.
McAriicoys and Vohrmint kept quiet but exchanged knowing looks.
Candlelite took a serious look at Absinthe and the others, each in turn, before telling them all, “I’ll inform the queen of my decision first thing in the morning.”

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 25.05.2011

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