Knight In White Satin - Chapter Seven

Crow’s Pass fell sometime during the third night. When the sun rose, Nohric covered in blood and gore, with quite a bit of it his own, was woken by the burning sun beating onto his face. All around him the smell of death and blood filled his nose and caused bile to threaten the back of his throat. He wanted to move, cursed it to move yet nothing responded. The general realized he couldn’t feel his legs or his arms. A ringing in his ears made his head pound. Wanting to turn away from the sun he could only resort to closing his eyes. Quickly he was once again asleep.

Slowly opening his eyes, Nohric could feel the fever burning his cheeks hot and pouring sweat down his face. A sweat fly landed courageously on his cheek and dug deep into his skin. He wanted to yelp and swat it away, but nothing in him responded. No hand answered the call. No arm raised in assistance. No sound emitted from his throat and even his lips refused to part. Paralysis was setting into his body, bit by bit. He remembered part of it now; Zhandoga had himself stormed the pass. Still wounded the General lunged forward to meet the attack. The foul blade the demon possessed shattered the man’s weapon. The force was so harsh; it rattled through is entire body. Pressure shot through is arm into his shoulder and then his chest, ripping open his previous wound. Immediately his strength passed and when the second blow landed Nohric only knew terrible pain as he crumbled to the ground. Without a second thought, Zhandoga stepped past him and continued to slaughter the defenders of the pass.

Tears formed in his eyes; he had failed. He never formed the message to warn Sorc. All those that fled to the city would be dead in a week’s time. Aura, who he promised to watch out for, would certainly be dead or captured. Dargo’s family would fall without mercy. Harris’ sons would surely be killed. He could see the proud young men charging into battle as their father would. Once Sorc fell it would only be a matter of time before Windra befell the same fate and then the legacy of the south, his proud family who had served the south for all of history would be wiped from history. General Nohric had failed in the one task of his life that couldn’t accept failure; protection of the south. Sighing deeply or at least feeling the burden of the sigh, Nohric closed his eyes and he knew with all he was it would be the last time.
“They didn’t take the pass you know. They retreated.” The aged voice he recognized filled his head and snapped him awake.”

Much to his surprise Nohric’s eyes snapped open and looked sternly at the robed figure sitting next to him. Every time things were terribly hopeless he would show up and offer something. But this, they didn’t take the pass, how could they not?

“With us beaten, by the Light, why wouldn’t they take it Ama?” Nohric questioned with a slight twinge of anger toward the old druid.

“Recalled unfortunately.” Amadagu stood and then turned to look Nohric directly in the eyes as if he were studying the effects of his words in the general’s face.

“They would have no reason to do such. Either you have gotten senile or I am dead and this is a dream.” He responded as he attempted to move and still found his body not responding.

Bending slightly the druid started laughing. “That is rather good Nohric. I guess I am old enough to be senile. But I am not there yet. As for a dream, well I think that is rather wishful thinking on your part.”

Attempting to look at his body, Nohric returned his look to the druid. “I can’t seem to move nor feel anything.”

“Oh that.” The old man responded absently. “I suppose we should attend to that wound and unpin your body. That stone did quite a number on you.”

Nohric held his eyes opened wide and suddenly he could see the giant stone not an inch from his chin. Straining his neck he could see a splash of red at his side and against the stone. Breathing deeply he looked up again and saw the clearness of sky. Just at the corner of his view, he saw where part of the ancient wall had broken free. In that moment he had to chuckle at himself a bit.

“A damnable rock eh?” Nohric looked back at Amadagu.

“Zhandoga isn’t much a swordsman. Strong yes, not very accurate though.” The Timewalker responded.

Clarity filled his thoughts, he indeed fought Zhandoga and his wound reopened. When the demon lifted his weapon and then swung it down to kill him, he clipped the wall edge and broke free a large chunk of stone which crashed into the General before he could jump out of the way.

“I saw a completely different vision when I woke earlier.” He commented as his dropped his head back, closed his eyes and thanked Xhuri for the blessing.

“Fever dreams; surely your chest is infected. I think this stone has rested on you long enough.” Placing his hands on the stone the druid paused for a moment and a quirky smile formed. “This is really going to hurt when the blood returns to your limbs, you might want to bite down on something.”

Nohric knew the truth in his words. Over the years he had to hold down men that had been partially crushed from a battle accident as the blood returned to injured limbs that caused them to lash out and scream in pain. The general couldn’t feel the wound on his chest and he knew it was going to surge through ever part of him.

Instinctively he squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the air around him compressed. Thunder exploded into his ears as the rock exploded into billions of pieces and fell around him as dust. Tingling sensations shot through is body as blood once again flowed to his limbs. Almost immediately pain in his chest exploded his senses. Clenching his teeth harshly his voice threatened to scream out into the air. Although he couldn’t see him, he could feel the compressed air move around him as the druid worked his craft on his beaten body.

So very different was Amadagu’s gift from his own. Nohric couldn’t even begin to understand how the druid worked; he only knew it always worked. As much as he wanted to believe he was the protector of the south, the general knew this man known as the Timewalker was its true protector. It didn’t matter how terrible, when the darkness threatened to consume, he would arrive to offer light and hope.

Strong arms lifted him to his still wobbly feet. Pain still wracked his body, but Nohric felt some strength in his legs and new the worst had passed. As the old druid held him in support, it amazed the general just how strong and comforting Amadagu was. Nohric moved to offer thanks but Amadagu lifted his hand and nodded.

“Go to Sorc General Nohric, bring them news of relief. Once you have done such, return to your family in Windra it is not yet time for the calamity that is this war.” Amadagu stated as they began to walk.

“What am I to tell them?” He questioned in wonderment.

“Tell them the Rhiya’s retreated in order to fulfill their version of the Prophecy. In that we are blessed with a reprieve. Tell them to find some enjoyment.” Once again there was a great sadness in the druid’s eyes.

Concern and disappointment filled the general’s voice. “But what of Delva and his destiny?”

“It is filled, for Delva is not the chosen, but his bloodline will be. Minoc has been raised and he knows all too well if Delvakhan and the south are killed now, they will lose the final battle. He will not allow any to risk it. He was there the first days and knows what is at risk.” Amadagu had taken the general by the shoulders and now looked directly into his eyes.

“What of me? They will want retribution against the Ministry.” Nohric questioned.

“You will have them prepare, stand ready and rebuild. In the end you will serve your nephews. Delva is corrupt of heart and the people will never love him or trust him. His sons will be beloved and in that, hope resides.” The druid responded.

His head began to swim, everything returned to being blurry. “But what of the seers and the prophecy? Even the things you have told us.”

“Follow the heart tempered by the mind and you will understand.”

****

“He is starting to reject certain images.” A female voice stated concern deep in her words.

Another voice responded deep and resounding voice, “Then he has become useless to us.”

“No not useless.” The female voice responded quickly. “So much and so many years have gone into this. We only find that much resistance when it involves his family a few places... There are other ways”

“Stay away from the family and those places then.”

“No, we have need there too many details would be overlooked. I have to probe and find what specifically causes this reaction and stay away from those.”

“If you push too much, he will awaken before the time.” The male voice dropped into a whisper. “Should we talk in front of him?”

The female laughed lightly in response. “No, it is perfectly safe. There are words and triggers set that render any such outside conversation as noise and prattle.”

“What of his bro…..” The male voice was stopped abruptly.

The woman responded quickly. “Even from very early on, he reacts in violent backlash when I have attempted that subject. Too close of a tie to the core of him.”

“How does he react to the prophecy? That is rather key in all of this.” Again the man’s voice returned to a normal tone.

“That is the easiest part of all. Each image is taken in with out any pulsing of his will. I would almost say he readily feeds on it. Even when I mention the Timewalker I sense no pulse and no reaction, just acceptance.” The smile on her lips passed heavily onto her voice.

“Then perhaps we can push more of it?”

“Maybe, a delicate balance has to be maintained. Overall the different images have to be cohesive. Not necessarily strong and iron clad, just enough to be believed as a whole.” She responded with pride. “Just a while longer and he will prove the… our prophecy true.”

“Our rewards will be great as She returns to us.” Jubilation rang strong in his statement.

****

But he had heard them, every word as if they came through a long distance away and merely haunted his ears. Still it was far away, but he knew deep within him they were filling his mind with images and memories day after day. His only reprieve came at night when new images filled his head, not from them but from a much kinder source.

“You really need to stop this.” He had heard this voice before; always at night with more images. In fact over the countless years that seemed to pass by so very slowly, the voice had come to him often. Aged, strong and full of knowledge, the boy felt a calm come over him whenever it visited.

“I have tried, I don’t know how.” The boy answered meekly. He had struggled time and time again to stop all that he saw and heard. He had known before the new image of his Uncle Nohric and Amadagu filled him what he saw about the pass wasn’t true. Yet his eyes would see nothing but the images he had no control over. Something in him wanted to fight, but it simply wouldn’t come to the surface.

He was frightened by it. Too much pain followed too much struggle. It never stopped him from trying again, but it quickly put his efforts to rest. Always just a bit more rest was needed. In fact many times he called out for someone anyone to hear him. Whether it actually made it from his lips, he couldn’t tell, everything was such a blur of pain and torment. The name of Xhuri came to him and at first he desperately called out to that name for help aid or something, anything to end the pain. Finally as the days then weeks then months passed by to the point he was sure several years had passed, he cursed that name. Something inside told him it was wrong, but he didn’t care anymore. No thing, no name, no creature could allow so much pain if they had a way to stop it. And thus evidently that name had no way to stop it. As such, there was no more reason for it. That name fell no more from his lips or upon his ears or a thought in his head. When it wanted to creep up, he simply shoved it back down.

“It is not a matter of knowing boy; it’s a matter of doing. You simply have to want to. You do want to don’t you?” The kind voice questioned.

The boy stopped. His mind stopped for a moment as he took in the question. Did he want it to stop? What would happen if he did? What was out there beyond this? The question was a trick it had to be. He had asked that before hadn’t he? And when he brought it to words he was awash with pain and torment. To request anything was wrong, it was selfish and cruel to ask for something of him, wasn’t it? Surely it was they had told him so. He was suffering so others would not. Wasn’t that noble and wasn’t he noble for doing such?

“No I don’t want to. This is what I must do.” He answered, pride swelling in his chest yet the words didn’t ring true to him.

“Ahh. And that is why you haven’t. One must want a thing before one can accomplish a thing.” There was sadness in the calming voice that made the boy want to cry. From the corners of his eyes the boy felt the wetness fall as tingles of sensation filled his face. “What of your brother?”

Rage filled him instantly. From deep within the name exploded forth. “KELVA!” He screamed out as he became aware of more and more tears falling from his face. He became aware of the sensation of his fingers digging into his palms as his fists clenched tightly. Warmth oozed from his fingertips as blood from his finger nails piercing his skin created tiny pools of blood that spilled over his knuckles an onto the floor.

“Would he want this from you? Would Kelva want you to do this?” The calm voice pushed more.

“I would suffer this for eternity so that he would not have to. That is my life that is my purpose.” The boy answered viscously as he began to fight back the tears and rage that continued to fill him. “That is enough.”

Still pushing the voice continued, “I didn’t ask if it was enough. I didn’t ask for the purpose. I asked if he would want this from you.”

The boy knew the answer. It bubbled and churned inside him like a massive wave. He could remember as a very young boy playing with his brother, sharing dreams and desires. Even when they were in trouble each felt the pain as the other was punished, no matter how light the punishment was. Surely as any siblings they would tease and walk the line of getting the other in trouble, but never in severity and never did they let each other stand alone. No, this is not what his brother would want. But more importantly he would never want this for his brother. So for this he would endure, he would hold out and he would continue. Sometimes what his brother wanted was simply not what was best for him. Yet the word was there, in his mouth fighting to press it beyond his lips. Formed cold and true his mind wanted one answer and his heart wanted another.

As if the calm voice could hear his inner turmoil it commented. “The wise use their heart, tempered by reason to find the answer that is correct and true.”

“NO!” He blurted out. “No he would not want this.”

“Then my boy, we have a start. You hold onto that and you remember it. Think on that point, dwell on it and let it temper your heart. Then perhaps you will find the want you so terribly desire. Always remember, you did nothing wrong boy; nothing wrong at all.”

Cut deeply by those words the boy curled up into a ball and wept until he finally fell into a deep sleep.




In the vast darkness while the night lay cold around him, the message was understood. Parts of his mind snapped awake and understood even though his mind looked to preserve him from the pain that immediately washed over him. Opening his eyes he saw the small room he was in. The bed of straw covered with rat urine and smelled of a combination of the rats and his unwashed young body stench. Harsh cold stone against his heel offered only pain from his foot that lay against it. His clothing was tattered beyond the point of rags and refuse covered in dirt and grime unfit for any creature. There was nothing else in the room. No, not a room, this was a cell and he was a prisoner. His fingernails, long and dirty, were also pointed and thick. Carefully, just within the door he began to scratch out the letters. Without thinking he spelled out a name, then a phrase.

‘Narvakhan, Chosen of Xhuri.’

For several moments he looked at it and took it all in. For a brief moment everything became clear. Everything he saw in his head he no longer trusted. She had done this. Ahryn had done this. Ahryn would pay. As the words echoed his mind, crushing pain filled him causing him to retreat. The retreat was easy, but this time, slowly and carefully the boy put up several mental blocks so he wouldn’t forget. Yes, he retreated, but even in his retreat he would remember.

Terra - Knight in White Satin: Chapter Six

Daily Nohric made the two hour walk from the main campsite to the makeshift checkpoint set at the base of Crow’s Pass. The dense swamp on the western boarder stretched all the way to Dragonspine Mountain. Even as a child Nohric had heard stories of the swamp that ate up little children and bad people. The blackened waters stained the lowest portions of a massive ancient wall made at the time of the first ancient war with the dragons. Believed to be taller than two dragons stacked upon themselves, the break in the wall where he stood was deep enough for thirty men to be hidden easily. Why it was built none knew or cared to share, its only purpose now was to dam the swamp from stretching out and blighting the rest of the south and to now provide an excellent chokepoint in protection of Sorc.

East half a days travel where the wall finally ended, a rugged maze of rock formations and scalding hot sprints all the way to the western boarder of Serpents Bay; Dragon Slumber. The wet and hot mist covered the area and made it impossible to travel. Many a bard spoke of those lost to the mists of the Slumber never to be heard from again. Where a single wrong step would find a man dieing the painful death of having his melting from his body as his screams only echoed off the formations. On a clear day, only the tips of the formations could be seen as the damnable mist covered everything else. Nohric had once accepted a dare to climb down the face. Only making it halfway before his senses returned, he saw all he needed to see. With every step down it grew more and more quiet, wet and eerie. Now he was thankful for the protection it too offered. Combined with the wall and swamp, Dragon Slumber was the third piece of Crow’s Pass. While surrounded in mystery for a time far longer than he had been alive, it was now an advantage for the southern soldiers and the first step of relief for refugees.

Almost as if on queue with his thoughts, Nohric watched as another slow and distraught train of battle beaten people moved through the pass. None looked up as they passed. One foot placed in front of another, the procession kept their heads down as the many villages that dotted the Southern Realm to the boarder Hnor continued to pay heavily as the Rhiyan forces continued their advance deep into the South. Nohric could see on their faces they had learned the terrible truth; there are worse things than death in war. In fact death itself was a release and an end to suffering. Life offered them empty stomachs, broken hearts, spirits and bodies as if to continue to live was a curse.

Various members holding the pass pointed the sick and wounded in one direction toward the Temple of Thor Syle while the rest were directed to make way to Sorc. He knew by now Sorc was almost overrun with refugees just as sure as the Temple was choked with the sick and wounded. Some came back and helped but even more, once healed or recovered would simply avoid the conflicts by hiding in any of the villages along the funnel of the bay where they were far away from the main road. When he first left Sorc his blood boiled at the groups of Southern men falling behind and then disappearing, thinking they were unnoticed. At first he would send scouts to watch them, but with each passing report his own moral fell. Nohric couldn’t allow that to pass to those he led opting instead to just let the cowards run.

Only a week after General Nohric arrived at the pass did a large group of men arrived wearing the colors and clothing of the Rakshar. Skirting along the shallow bank water of Serpents Bay and passing the Rhiyan army’s flank, only a handful was lost in arriving at the pass. After interviewing each of them to be sure he understood all that happened, Nohric was relieved to hear Delvakhan and the others were making a break to the eastern coast, pulling them far from the advance. However that also meant his nephew was months away from Windra which meant the trained warriors of the South were still not en route. He hated sending them to Thor Syle where they would meet up with one of his Commanders. It left less a smaller force for protection and simply they would have to hold the pass without a chance to push back forward. They had not choice but to try to hold out.

Walking along the pass Nohric found himself wishing to hear news of his Commanders to know if they had been right or wrong and if the Rakshar helped push them back. Still nothing came week after week; it was time to accept they were dead and the pass was the last point before Sorc could be siege. The refugees and even those that he himself dropped off in Sorc would stand little chance of surviving a siege from the demonic force chewing through the south. Too much was at risk and it left his mind riddled with doubts about his actions. Perhaps the boy was too detached to be a King of the people. Had Nohric accepted the duty, all the South would have rallied to at least give them a chance to survive long enough for the Ministry to determine it wasn’t worth it to press so far south. Vakhan had warned him for years of falling into doubt and with the thought of his brother Nohric knew the answer was simple. Vakhan should not have left his people, he was the rightful King and in the end he abandoned his people. Greatness or not, Nohric would hold those thoughts in his head forever. Too much was risked in an attempt to hold prophecy at bay. Too much was at risk to trust the cryptic words of one, even if that one was the ancient Timewalker.

More scout and messengers arrived before midday had arrived. General Nohric watched as grim reports were delivered and faces drew long in response. They were loosing; inevitably they Rhiyan forces would arrive and force themselves through the pass. With only week’s march, Sorc would fall to ashes and the South would be lost. He could even see his beloved Windra and her beautiful caressing waters wasted and ruined signaling the end of the last vestige of hope. No matter what they did, the Apocalyptic Prophecy was going to come to pass.

Just before nightfall as Nohric read through his reports and viewed his maps a runner burst through out of breath. Patiently he waited for the messenger to gather his breath offering him a quick tankard.

Still breathing hard, the young man pushed the words through gasps. “Commander Harris… and Commander…. Dargo…. approach the pass…. being chased.”

Nohric didn’t wait to hear the rest, grabbing his weapon and rushing out of his tent he signaled an alarm. Immediately the base camp came alive as the guard companies of the pass gathered and formed in perfect time as they had been trained. Refusing to let anyone pass him, the general broke into a run for the pass. Even as the burn formed in his legs, he pushed past it knowing he and his men were needed at the pass. What took two hours for him to leisurely walk, the companies covered in ten minutes. The pass was filled with men and voices barking orders in chaos. Immediately he could see his Commanders and even the Rakshar crowded tight in the pass.

“Clear the pass. If you aren’t on duty to the pass, make a hole and make it wide. You act as if you have never been trained. Get food and drink to our brothers.” Nohric’s loud and commanding voice cut through the chaos. Roughly grabbing on of the men in front of him he shoved him violently to the side. “By the Light I said make a hole. Gather yourselves. Guards form your communication lines before I turn you over to the darkness myself.”

Quickly his commanders made their way to him. General Nohric couldn’t suppress the smile on his lips seeing them again. In response he could see some relief in their eyes as they met his.

“They left the Citadel alone, but by the darkness, they came from both sides. I think some actually crossed the Bay to get to our flank.” Commander Harris responded.

“How far away are they?” Nohric demanded to know.

“Two days at best. But there is more.” Dargo interrupted. “We will also be fighting our own mean previously killed.”

Nohric looked to the man as if he was lost in delirium. Words couldn’t form in his head let alone his lips.

“The Rakshar witnessed some ritual as they made their way to us. Several Ministry dressed in black garb seemed to summon the dead from the battlefield and immediately charge us like animals.” Dargo explained.

“They don’t rest and they don’t eat. They are ravenous and remarkably swift. As we approached the pass we folded back on them and killed them off. To the Darkness Nohric fighting my own men, beaten, battered and dead has taken its toll on the men.” Harris added shaking his head as if he was trying to shake the visual from his eyes.

“Get word to Thor Syle, we need their help.” Nohric started but was interrupted by Commander Harris.

“Already done. They were told of the issue and to meet us here at the pass.” Harris drained a tankard, then another.

“Where do you want our men, they are sorely in need of rest.” Dargo asked as he stretched his back with his hands at his hips. Then added with a grin, “Any place soft will do.”

“Move them out of pass and pick a spot. Doesn’t matter” Nohric began to pace as he thought. “At daybreak we will begin shifts of full companies guarding the pass. Those still at the base will be moved up just south of us here. We have been waiting for word, now that we have it we have to be ready. If they are two days away we can expect them to know of the pass at this point and force the march faster. Send messengers to Sorc and Windra and put them on alert. Even without the King, we need those forces now.”

The commanders nodded in agreement immediately dispatching communication to their men. Deep into the night General Nohric and his commanders planned an organized the companies. In all they had a single legion against a force of at least three times their size. Coupled with the news of fighting their dead, Nohric knew Crow’s Pass would fall; it was simply a matter of how long they could delay that outcome.

****

Slowly he opened his eyes. No longer could he remember when he first closed them. In fact, they no longer wanted to open. Suddenly he was aware of the whispers around him. They were hushed and excited, never rising above a low murmur. Someone was almost in grabbing distance; he could smell him. His body however was too cramped to move. He felt the blood begin to run once again with great fever throughout his body. His mind was waking faster than his body; already he called upon his power to offer a breeze to cool the sweat beginning to form upon his skin. He felt the heat of the day, yet the other bodies within his room caused the temperature to rise even higher. The once sleeping creature reached out and touched each mind in the room with his own.

They had been searching for him for years yet only today did they stumble upon the tower. They were all confused as to why they could not see it before. What his finders didn’t know is they were only following the power of the Prophecy. The Chosen must have been born; it was the only way they could have found him. Surely his brothers were already walking again. A pain filled his head as if his skull was being cracked. The scorched part of his soul wanted to command him again, yet his sleep had allowed him the opportunity to recoup. Once again he was in complete control. The muscles of his limbs were yearning to be stretched; yet he could not move. In fact he was compelled to wait until the man the others in the room waited for arrived. Joliel was the man’s name they all waited for. Joliel knew of the Prophecy and it was this same man he remembered meeting. Everything was distant and blurred as he tried to understand how he met the man.

Joliel was close, he could sense his mind. Joliel however clouded his thoughts – he was trained to use the power, yet something was wrong, scared and broken in his power. He wanted to smile in recognition of this. Upon the air however, there was a power, stronger than Joliel’s yet more raw and pulsing. His first thoughts were of his brothers and sister. As he listened to the winds however he found it was another. One who clouded its mind so well; it would have been missed had his sense not been so keen. This one worried him. He would find this one, yet it would wait, Joliel had come to finish the waking. The least he could do I sallow this man to think he was in control.

“Do not touch the sacred one,” Joliel commanded as he entered, “you do not possess the powers.” Placing his hands just above the sleeping man’s chest he began to chant low and deep.

No longer could he suppress the smile forming upon his lips. The man named Joliel was almost humorous in his use of pageantry. Joliel called upon the power of fire to illuminate his hands, calling it the power of life.

“Rise sacred one, let all know the mighty Minoc has woken from his long sleep in then Darkness.” Joliel commanded, “Show us the glory of your waking!”

Sitting upright, Minoc took a long dramatic breath, his eyes peering into those of Joliel. He remembered now, this was the Seom of his people. The magic of essence and counter to his might. He realized now, the rings that once adorned his hands were gone, as was his amulet and weapon. There would be time to find them again and punish those responsible for their taking. That is if he found he stilled needed them to ward off the druid.

Those around the two men fell to the floor bowing deeply. Slowly he walked to Joliel until he stood directly before him. “You are the Seom of Rhiya and I am her sword, her Minoc. I assume you found the Timewalker?”

“We are advancing on the south.” Joliel quickly avoided the question. “When you are ready, our forces in Tabath await their commander.”

Anger swelled in Minoc as the words hit his ears. This creature thought to command and control him. He could sense the demon blood running through him, but it wasn’t natural.

“Your blood is tainted with power not yours, while mine is that of Rhiya. Command me again and it will be you that reside in the Darkness for failure. Ignore the druid, he is not the goal.” Minoc’s fiery eyes flickered with his demonic might.

“Amadagu continues to interfere at key moments and himself is somehow guarding my child.” Joliel answered quickly.

“Go back to your altar, you will find the keys to your power will be unlocked there. Before the child is important we have to Chosen of Xhuri has to be killed. If not, the Prophecy will be false and nothing will give form to our great Matriarch. Where is the Book of Souls, I need to consult it.” Minoc questioned.

For several moments the two stared at each other. Once again anger swelled in Minoc. “This is why there must always be a Seom and Minoc. Your focus is scattered and without completion. You act as an angry child without real knowledge.”

“We have the King of South wandering the lands while the people of the south will soon be wiped from Terra.” Seom Joliel responded, his voice unable to hide his displeasure in the chiding.

“Our goal is for our Matriarch to be free to walk in form upon this physical world. Everything else means nothing. She cannot walk free if the Chosen is alive and if the various points of Xhurian power remain active. The people as a whole mean nothing and are mere servants. What happened to the previous Minoc?”

“Killed by the Emperor of the Rakshar.” Joliel stated plainly.

“Those traitors still live? Our people have grown weak, this will be changed. Leave just enough forces to hold what is already done; pull the rest back to Hknal.” Minoc ordered.

“We must press them forward!” Joliel almost spat the words.

With a wave of his hand, Minoc cleared the others from the large room. The moment they left, he snatched Joliel by this neck. “Make no mistake whelp; you will pull those forces back. Nothing will hinder the rebirth of Rhiya, certainly not your petty anger. When you are ready, you will be given part of my power and this will be the key to unlocking that which you lost. But before this can happen you must go through the ceremony of cleansing.”

Joliel’s power surged and simply causes Minoc to smile and roughly let go of his neck while he shoved him away. Minoc knew the Seom was completely unaware of the ceremony and lost as to why his powers didn’t work. The bloodline of the Rhiyan people had been thinned and intermingled too much with the servant classes. Too many important laws had been allowed to pass and this would also be fixed. Minoc was happy to reeducate them. All would be purified by the Darkness and this time he would not fail.

****

Before the sun was high above them, the Rhiyan forces in their deadly black armaments began to surge forward toward the pass. Not even a full day passed when the alarm rang out. Nohric sighed deeply as he saw the overwhelming numbers filled their horizon. He was terribly wrong, it wasn’t three legions, it looked more like seven or eight; far more than they could handle. Crow’s pass was going to fall, if they were lucky they would buy Sorc an afternoon, no more than that.

Wordlessly Nohric moved to the front of the pass as the soldiers at guard pushed tight against one another in waves offering him a clean route. Once he was at the front, all stood ready with their weapons, a variety of axes, swords, spears and hammers. Reaching his hands up high above him, Nohric closed his eyes and dropped his head back allowing the morning sun to splash upon his features. Leveling his head, but keeping his eyes closed, the general prayed silently to Xhuri.

Roars not human began to emit from the pool of blackness that were the legions of Rhiyan soldiers. As they came closer Nohric opened his eyes and could see their demonic features no longer hidden. These were the true Rhiyans, slightly reddish skin fiery red eyes and fingernails that were thick and curled into claws. He had seen plenty of Ministry soldiers more man than beast, but these were just like the stories of old and in that exact moment Nohric knew one thing; this force had to be stopped.

“Alright lads, look out there. Those aren’t men; they are an abomination of what a man should be. Remember your wives, lovers and friends. If that isn’t enough just think of those things ravaging them. Use that anger and by the Light, HOLD THIS PASS.” Nohric announced his voice strong and resolute. “For as long as your fathers’ fathers have walked the South, these creatures have wanted our lands. Your answer is to hold this pass. No amount of blood, death or darkness can stop us from this task. We will hold this pass. Nothing else matters. Not tomorrow, not yesterday and not what may be. We will HOLD THIS PASS!”

Angry cheers and shouts erupted in a roar as they all responded to his words. Turning to face the demonic legions, Nohric’s chest swelled and his vision focused. For the first time since his own training, he felt the fire grow hot and angry in him. His own gift took control of his vision, hearing and mind. Nothing else mattered just the wall of black before him. No face mattered; no sound would deter him Nohric held a singular focus. Even if he was alone, he would hold this pass. For his brother, for his nephew, for his people and for Mora’s child General Nohric would hold this pass.

Light and easy in his grip, Nohric’s massive sword swept low and cut the legs out from under the first attacker to the pass. Spinning to avoid a crashing blow aimed at his skull, he swung in an arch catching red flesh and easily split the skin, disemboweling the demon. Deflecting a huge angry claw with the base of the weapon, a quick twist of his wrist caused Nohric to slice the appendage clean from the beasts arm. Howling and pulling back, the bloodied blade was thrust up and through the creature’s neck and jaw. Climbing over the three dead bodies, Nohric leapt in the air and drove the weapon down through the back of another Rhiyan. Lost in his flurried focus the general refused to stop his attacks. For every blow he landed he seemed to deflect an attack. Somehow he lost his weapon, yet not even that stopped him as he punched, gouged, ripped and tore anything he could get his hands on. A weapon her or there were used for a strike or two and then he would move on, leaving the weapons stuck into sides, heads or limbs of his victims.

Eventually he found himself against the great wall, standing in shallow swamp waters challenging Rhiyan after Rhiyan yet none answered. Several intentionally avoided him as he lunged at them in murderous rage. Throwing himself back into the center of demons immediately killing several of them, Nohric felt the air around him compress. Before he could react an explosion shook his skull and tossed him violently back into the pass. On his knees and trying to recover he would hear in the distance a beating drum that had changed its cadence. Attempting to stand, he became aware of his right arm hanging limp and unresponsive against his side covered with blood and gore. Upon further inspection he saw a nasty wound that covered the distance from his right shoulder to his just above his naval oozed a slow steady flow of blood.

Again the air compressed and half a dozen of his men flew deep into the pass crashing into men, weapons and armor without prejudice. Rhiyan gifted had entered the battle and were effortlessly pushed them back into the pass. Cursing under his breath, Nohric continued to struggle to stand. Several had arrived to help the general to his feet as he strained to see the battle. Again and again the air compressed and crackled with power and the defenders of the pass struggled to not give any ground. Moving him closer to the center, he could see the Rhiyans had not entered the pass. Paying heavily they had called upon their gifted to attempt to push the Southern soldiers back deeper into the pass, yet for every soldiers that was blown back another took his place.

Above them, high upon the wall, dozens of men with bows shot deadly accurate arrows into the gifted. Immediately several were instantly killed and tumbled lifeless from the wall as the gifted responded. Yet the impact was clear as the air quieted and the ground assault continued. Nohric’s head swam in pain and confusion as the battled raged around him. Shrugging off those assisting him, he tried to push his way back to the front. Pride swelled as he witnessed the unrelenting posture of his men holding the pass.

“General you need to get back to the camp, the Rhiyans are beginning to fall back.” Harris was suddenly standing before him, helping support the general. “We have to attend to the wounded, which I might add you are one of.”

“Dargo?” Nohric looked around suddenly trying to recount the names of the dead around them.

“He fell in the initial push. We need to pull our dead from the pass. If they come back, we will lose the pass.”

Straining his vision to the front of the pass he could see a large wave of Rhiyans retreating. The first wave was won; but it was only the first wave. So far they gave Sorc half a day. Half a day was better than none. With a nod, Nohric allowed them to assist him back to the camp as he began to prepare in his mind the next wave he knew would come.

Terra - Knight in White Satin: Chapter Five

There was no going to sleep. She endured the meal and the hospitality of Delvakhan’s family but she had a task to complete. She would have to leave and find her daughter. Reports speaking of the Ministry taking children were not something she was unfamiliar with. Regularly the Silence reported such things to Vrok and his court; she thought she understood the pain but she knew now she was wrong.

Constantly her mind was filled with the thoughts of her beautiful black haired daughter and her deep brown eyes set against her almost silky light brown skin. She held the image of her mother and her father. Dropping her head into her hands, Elidra thought of Vrok, her beautiful strong and powerful Vrok. Tears flowed heavily from her eyes as she struggled between the feelings of her betrayal and the thoughts of her lover holder her close to him. Immediately she felt as if she was back in Tova touching his fiery skin as the poison flowed through him like a storm.

All of her pain was concentrated to one source, one point and one person that caused her heart to ache to the point she would scorch the earth to remove that person. Joliel, Seom of the Rhiyan people who killed her beloved Vrok and had her daughter taken from her by the treacherous Jade. When she traveled the mist, everything was clear to her and as the world tried to blur past her, she could see all the blackened strands leading to the spot of death that was Blackroot.

No she couldn’t stay here on this island so very far south, so very far away from the target of her burning hatred. Elidra knew her murderous rage could easily consume her, but she was tired of holding it back. Tired of finding other things to think about and do, she knew there was as single path she had to follow without pause or delay. Khelidra had to be found and taken away from the Ministry. Even if that meant death for both of them, Elidra could accept that. If she left on her own, she wouldn’t have to worry about others, she could use her powers and simple be who she was. Her mind was set and her target was clear.

No one stopped her as she moved about the Castle quietly gathering her things as well as what she would need for the trip. She saw no reason to shift and move about hidden; Elidra wanted them to know she left on her own. As she traveled through the castle her feet seemed to carrying knowledge of where to go she couldn’t understand. The Rakshar Empress moved about as if the steps were familiar and natural to her. Finally entering the kitchen she grabbed a couple slabs of dried meat still curing. Examining it carefully she knew it would hold long enough to at least get her back to the mainland north of the island.

Exiting the Castle, guards stepped out of her way and none seemed to pay anything but passing attention as she made her way to the island docks. Scanning several boats looking for her target, her eyes settled on a medium sized ship that looked to need the least amount of crew. As if she owned the boat, Elidra walked onto its deck. Immediately, even those behind her that originally let her walk past, surrounded her.

“Well now look here Lassie. There are several things a man can overlook, but walking onto my deck aint one of them, unless you are looking for some serious trouble.” A harsh looking deceptively large man stepped through the circle looking the woman up and down as a toothy grin displayed across his face.

Elidra felt her will compress in the air as she prepared to kill everyone on the deck if she needed to. “I have to find my daughter and this vessel meets my needs. I can pay you and pay you well.”

As she produced a large bag of coins, the man waved off the rest of the crew and offered her a heart laugh. “Passage has already been paid for two of ye. Though considering where you want to travel I should probably take that coin from ye as well.”

Stunned, Elidra felt her mouth drop open as Burakani stepped from a far shadow and nodded to his Empress. “We have Rakshar business to attend to. I knew you wouldn’t wait long.”

“Still intent on following the coast north then Mr. Burakani?” The captain asked as he turned toward the stairs leading to the upper deck.

Burakani looked to Elidra, waiting for her to answer. For a brief moment a smile flashed across her face. “Yes, north.” She finally replied.

“So, where are we going? I assume you have a place in mind.” He questioned.

Burakani heard her words but for a long time he simply stayed at the rail of ship and watched the dock and coastline of Windra drift away from them until there was nothing but the blackness of the water merging with the blackness of the sky. He felt Delvakhan would understand, but more than anything he realized for the first time finding Khelidra was not a problem for the South. Considering such, they had to leave the King of the South to attend to his matters of state.

Still he couldn’t shake the cold shiver that continued to creep along his skin as he repeated the words she spoke to him. Yet he knew it long before she said it. He felt the same way and maybe that is what compelled him to immediately head to the docks to book passage. It was as if at that moment everything he was meant to do became clear. He would protect and serve this woman. Not because she was the Rakshar Empress, but because he had fallen in love with what she represented; truth. For that same reason they were actually going to Blackroot into the heart of the ill that befell the Rakshar people. Burakani closed his eyes and thought about everything in his life and knew without a doubt, he would never actually see his homeland again no matter how much he would wish otherwise.

****

Training by his Aunt Trulie was beyond anything he could imagine. Delvakhan suffered for three weeks under her tutelage unable to focus on training as he grew more and more frustrated about Elidra and Burakani leaving. Kept away from prying eyes, to include Xynari’s, he walked out of his training pouring in sweat with a headache he could find no relief from. Still Delvakhan was unable to even touch or recognize his own power. He could sense Trulie was getting exasperated, yet still his thoughts wouldn’t focus.

Entering into the room yet again the following day, he found it different and menacing. Shrouded by complete darkness the room felt cold and empty. Just within the darkness he could see heavy black linen covering the windows blotting out even the faintest sliver of sunlight. However in the air could smell sweet fragrances of flowers and knew his Aunt was in the room somewhere. Straining his eyes he sought out a form against the blackness; still there was nothing.

“We are wasting time Aunt Trulie.” The coldness that filled the room suddenly caused a small sense of panic to fill him and echoed in his voice. “I am sure there are other things we could be doing instead of wasting our time here.”

Feeling the air around him compress Delvakhan instinctively ducked only to take the full force of power slamming into him. Skidding harshly along the floor he could feel every course cut of the stone until he was stopped by the wall at the end of the room. His head became heavy and dizzy as he stood and made his way away from the wall. Still clouded in his mind, fear shot through him as he realized he was being shackled. Screaming out and thrashing, Delvakhan used all his strength to pull and yank at the bindings but found he was unable to move his hands or feet but an inch at the most. He heard the sound of metal grind against the floor as his wrists and ankles were pulled away further completely exposing him. Tears flowed heavily and suddenly as he realized he was completely trapped.

“I don’t want this!” He screamed out panic and fear heavy in his voice. “Just let me go, I don’t care about any of this. Leave me be!”

The face of his Aunt Celeste came into view. Blinking several times he tried to read the emotion on her face. Breathing heavily he realized there was nothing but sorrow on her face yet also a hardened tone exposed in the tense muscles of her neck and jaw.

“That is why you continue to fail. You answer and accept only the weakness of the moment and refuse to do what you know you must.” Clasping her hands behind her back and walking back and forth, refusing to look at him, she continued her lecture. “The South needs you. We all do. You have a duty to your family and to your people to continue what your father started. They will believe in you simply because you are his son.”

“I am not him and I am not of this land! I just want to be left alone.” His complaints were stopped suddenly as she smacked him hard across his face. With tears in her eyes she now grabbed his face and looked directly into his eyes.

“No, you are not him nor do you have the goodness in you which thrived in him. Others will blame the Rakshar, but I see the truth in you. You are a coward.”

Her words stung but Delvakhan immediately knew she was right. He was scared and wanted nothing more than to retreat back beyond Dragonspine and exist outside this war he didn’t understand or want any part of. So what if he was considered a coward, it was better than being their puppet.

“Because you are a coward at the moment you will need to steel your heart, you will fail and for it we will all suffer.” She continued to lecture him. “But unlike you, I am not a coward nor a fool and so I keep my word given to your father and to your mother. I will train you. At the very least you will be physically prepared to lead the South against the Rhiyans. So we begin.”

Hour after hour slipped by. Delvakhan however continued to endure the torturous assaults on his mind and body at the hands of his Aunt. While he could see her standing before him refusing to move, the blows were relentless and he knew they came from her. Several times she would speak, but he could no longer hear her, but deep within him he could feel a flicker and a flame attempting to ignite his essence.

Snapping his eyes open he was suddenly aware of his Aunt Trulie feeding him as his Uncle Yarmo wetted his skin with cool water. He wanted to speak his thanks but between the food and the tightness in his throat, his mouth only opened. They both spoke to him but the ringing in his head stopped him from hear anything. It all became a blur and somewhere he realized he had seen his Aunt and Uncle several times. The days were passing by. Closer now the spark became a flame and the flame was growing, ember by ember. His stomach and chest convulsed trying to hold it in, finally quelling the pressure, but the flame remained.

His eyes were opened now, yet Delvakhan could see nothing, feel nothing, yet he knew his body was in the same position it had been in. He became vaguely aware of people talking to him, feeding him, cleaning him but he no longer cared. His senses even his skin became distant and detached. The flame was a fire now and if he had a voice he would have screamed out as it engulfed everything. In his mind he screamed out against the world and strove to free himself from everything. Once again blackness engulfed him and he felt his head drop followed by nothing.

Keenly Delvakhan watched as a single bead of sweat dropped from his long hard, passing before his eye, just missing his nose and falling to the floor where it landed with a terrible crash. His eyes locked onto a faint strand of energy that trailed the path the sweat bead took. Immediately his essence jumped back and millions of strands were before him moving about here and there. Concentrating he could actually see what the strands were attached to and what they made. Testing himself, he reached out and grabbed a single strand that moved yet was cold and dead at the same time. Delvakhan felt, tasted and understood it was metal. Carefully he took a handful of the strands that were like the one he tested and threw them away. Immediately he became aware of the chains falling from his wrists and ankles. His body felt as if it were flying. Instinctively he supported it to keep it from striking the ground.

Acutely aware now, he could make out an image of his Aunt. He knew she was watching now as his mind was no longer shielding him from attacks and his body was completely in his own control, unrestrained. Pushing hard, he shoved her essence from him. The moment he touched her, he recoiled as he own powers protected her. All around him the world came crashing in as he could see normally yet remained aware of the flow of magic around him. His gifts had been released and he recognized him. The flame was him, all of him. Everything thought and action was now done in conjunction with the flame that he knew was his gift. Without warning Delvakhan realized he could once again hear as his Aunts voice filled the air.

“Finally you have accepted your gift. You nephew are more stubborn than anyone I have ever trained.” Celeste stated with a smile that couldn’t hide the sorrow that resided in her face and voice.

“Then we are done?” Delvakhan questioned and regretted the words the moment he said them.

“Done? Lad you have only just started. Now that you and your gift are one, you can finally start.”

True to her word, they had just started. Day after day he worked with the members of his family and realized each had a gift slightly different. For some it was song, others like him could see the life of all things while yet others needed items or objects to help them focus.

Soon he fell into a rhythm of waking, eating, training, eating, being briefed and then training until he collapsed, eating and then sleeping. Yet each night he was aware of Xynari laying beside him, only to have it confirmed when he woke each morning to see and hear her sleeping quietly next to him.

To prepare himself each day he would scratch a notch into the basin table to remind him how long he had been there. Eighty seven marks snaked along the table top. Delvakhan shook his head in disbelief as he counted them again. Sighing he turned to watch Xynari sleep just a while longer. When he looked at her with his gift he could see a soft white light around her. Her power wasn’t like his, hers was a blessing from beyond their knowledge; a priestess blessing. Stopping for a moment as he looked at her he could see a small ember glowing within her. Searching more he realized something he wasn’t prepared for; he was going to be a father.

****

She had found his trigger, quite by mistake, but the flash of his will couldn’t be missed. It was violent and it immediately sought her out. Thankfully he was young and weak in his power and it dissipated before it could get close to her. It was a time to celebrate, the first step was made.

She of course reported the information yet none seemed to understand the significance of the find. She wasn’t surprised by their actions; after all they didn’t believe there was real worth to her work. Unless she could provide them with the answers specific to their needs or show them an answer to prophecy, she was wasting their time. As they poured through books and tomes while playing games with diplomacy and other trivial matters, she focused on who held all the knowledge.

It wasn’t the first time. Early in her life she worked the same with her first pupil but met with amazing failure as she was usurped by his own natural power. Paid a heavy price in her failure and knew she had to start younger. Each child used for her purpose taught her new methods and new controls. Yet in the back of her mind she knew the only one that was similar in power to this one was her first pupil, yet already she had accomplished more and pushed further. But they didn’t understand the importance of her task. Her ancient years simply afforded her the luxury of respect that caused them to give her room to play. She took full advantage of their attitude for she knew it was the work that her Goddess would reward.

Without permission or delay she restructured the room bit by bit waiting for more triggers to be found. Within several months everything became perfect and his training continued with renewed vigor. Her charge proved to be strong and stubborn, yet her locks and dams against his power held as she taught and probed as deeply as she could.

Piece by piece it unlocked until she was confident she understood how the training was done by his people, still he resisted at a level she didn’t think possible. As she pushed harder and harder the biggest key now was to be sure he didn’t become aware too soon or all her work would be lost. The penalty for such was more than she could even thing to bear. A hundred years of wondering the oblivion was enough for her, she had no desire to return.

There was a point in time she felt she would have known all she needed within a few years, but had already been twelve years since she started. Twelve years and finally she had the basis determined. After twelve years she would finally be able begin his real training. Counting the time she knew it wouldn’t be long before he would die, adhere to her training or become the one thing they feared; Chosen of Xhuri, the true descendant of the ancient blood of the Dragon.

Terra - Knight in White Satin: Chapter Four

Foreboding and eerie the pitch blackness of the night concealed them as they moved carefully along the edges of the structures that made up Sarna. Although the moon was high above them, it was a mere sliver offering almost no light for them to maneuver through. Nothing in the city seemed to move. No shapes and no sounds, something completely different then he expected considering Xynari’s description. Xynari however shivered in the night air and several times almost seemed to whimper as they inched closer.

Once in position they waited for what seemed like hours and still nothing moved. More concerning was Elidra did not rejoin them. Delvakhan stretched his neck and rolled it releasing some tension as he stayed crouched behind a small outcropping of bushes just at the eastern boarder of the city. The first whispers of sound filtered through the air, but all tensed immediately. Indeed wails of various tones and loudness filled the air sounding more and more like laughter.

Wisps and swirls of inky black smoke, barely visible against the night canvas, shimmered into a solid form. Forming a circle eight of the shapes appeared. Signaling to the others, Delvakhan slowly and carefully crawled on the ground toward the shapes. Dragging himself threw the snow, Delvakhan stopped as Burakani tapped at his leg.

Without speaking, the baron pointed the exposed dirt trail behind Delvakhan terribly obvious against the white snowy ground. Delvakhan dropped his head in frustration. Quickly he and Burakani swept snow on the dark exposed earth. Once they had finished, while staying crouched this time, the King of the South darted to the back side of one of the stark looking buildings to provide himself cover.

Drawing nearer he could see she shapes still gathered in a circle with the wailing laughter continuing. In the center of them appeared to be a wooden altar. Smeared along the grain of the wood were sickly looking black streaks. Delvakhan caught his breath as he realized the blackish streaks were dried blood. His eyes followed the smears to the top. Seeing a wrapped bundle upon the altars top all air escaped his lungs. Looking harder he could see the bundle squirming. Stunned he could only watch the witches continue their ceremony.

“From the darkness we are gifted.” A female voice filled the air in a wailing song.

“From the darkness our blindness is cured.” Another stated in the same wailing song.

“From the darkness the spark of light is subdued.” Yet another spoke.

“To the darkness we commit our essence.” The voices began to mingle together for each verse.

“To the darkness we send the non believers.”
“To the darkness we traverse the world.”
“In the darkness we are blessed.”
“In the darkness we are power.”
“In the darkness we are life.”
“For the darkness we commit this child.”
“For the darkness she is reborn”
“For the darkness is Rhiya.”

Without pause a witch lifted her arms to the sky and then drove it down crushing the bundle against the altar. Immediately dark liquid spilled stained the wrap and flowed over the top of the altar. In frenzy all the witches dropped their blackened robes and scooped up the fluid into their hands rubbing it all over their naked and exposed bodies.

Delvakhan fought to keep his stomach from retching, doubling over and forcing his face into the snow. Biting down on the snow, he could taste the bile hitting fighting to come up the back of his throat. Breaking his concentration a primal and fierce growl pierced through the night. Looking up he watched as a snow leopard with metal links attached to its fur pounced on the nearest witch and instantly ripped open her throat. As the witch fell to the ground gurgling her final breath, Elidra in her leopard form disemboweled another with a single swipe of her claws. Suddenly jumping back, the Empress assumed her normal form and lurched forward toward another witch as her energy blades appeared suddenly in her hands.

Delvakhan instantly charged in yanking his sword free with great strain as it struggled to stay in its scabbard. Making a terrible scratching sound as it slid free, he drove it forward and up through the lower back of the nearest witch until its point pushed through her upper ribcage and protruded from her left breast. The body fell heavily against the blade and his arm as took her in an instant.

Wailing increased in intensity the remaining five witches screamed at their attackers. The blood smeared on their bodies gave them the appearance of something more hideous and evil than anything Delvakhan had ever seen. As they screamed blackness seemed to billow forth from their mouths joining the midnight canopy. For just a moment he almost thought he saw strange black sinewy strands swirl and encase the watches. In his mind he felt the foreboding of something terrible creeping through his thoughts attempting to reach for his very essence.

Darkness, strong and willful surrounded him in every direction. Grasping Bhor Wethrin tightly he lunged to the center of the darkness and caught something solid. Instinctively he twisted the hilt and using all his strength bore his arm across his chest feeling the blade catch several times before exiting the darkness. Gasping for breath, a naked female form looked up to him in surprise as blood and gore poured from a wide wound that started at her naval and continued to her severely separated side. Falling to the ground at his feet, she convulsed, spit out several mouthfuls of blood and died.

Realizing the wailing had stopped, Delvakhan looked up to see the rest of the witches dead around them while Xynari moved to each saying a prayer. Elidra stood at the altar with her blood covered skin shaking while she slowly pulled away the wraps of the bundle on the altar top. Saying nothing, Elidra re-wrapped the child and handed it to Xynari. The priestess said a prayer as she held her hands over the small broken body. Delvakhan watched as light engulfed the form and then dissipated into the night.

“It was a boy.” Elidra stated as she slumped to the ground careful to keep from touching the altar. Tears fell in a steady stream from her eyes. “It wasn’t my child. By the Light it wasn’t my Khelidra.”

“We can’t stay in the open like this. Surely more than just eight witches live in Sarna.

“Oh far more than eight indeed Vessel.” A cold female voice filled the air centered in a mist of swirling blackness which whipped around them.

“Jade where is my daughter!” Elidra jumped to her feet as her blades appeared fiery hot in her hands as she moved toward the black mist. Everyone jumped to the ready each weapon drawn toward the blackness.

Jade solidified her form and stood within striking range of Elidra and offered a smile daring the attack. “She is to be one with Rhiya as is her destiny.”

Fury and tears covered the face of Elidra as her mystical blades faded to nothing. Dropping to her knees she made her plea. Delvakhan stunned lowered Bhor Wethrin as the others did the same. Xynari’s tears fell from her eyes streaking the dirt on her face as the pain of Elidra filled the air with heavy desperation.

“I beg you free my daughter and take me. I will willingly give you the power I am gifted for her safety and freedom.” Elidra fell to the ground, her hands holding the feet of Jade. “Please Jade, if you ever were true to Vrok, give her back.”

Jade’s haunting and wailing laugh filled the air. “So quickly you submit oh great Empress. But your powers are already part of the Darkness; strong in your daughter are the blood of the Rakshar and the blood of the Timewalker. What need do we have with you? What...”

Jade’s words were suddenly stopped short as Elidra stood to look the woman in the eyes. Delvakhan could clearly see strands of power flowing from Elidra creating tethers wrapping the witches’ body.

“I don’t need you to find my daughter; I just need you out of my way. That which you know you were taught. My gifts however are of the very air you breathe. Give me my daughter or I will pull the information from you; bit by bit.” As Elidra spoke, fire formed in a circle around the witch and steadily walked up her legs singing her robe and the flesh under it.

Struggling but not crying out, Jade refused to look away from Elidra as pain creased her face. “She is in the darkness and cannot leave. It is beyond your reach. For that I do not fear death for then I too shall live in the darkness where your power is useless.”

“Then I shall destroy you again when I enter the darkness and test your theory.”

Immediately Elidra lashed out only to have her power repelled and she was shoved to the ground. Silently as they were focused on Jade, dozens of witches had surrounded them. Working together their created mist held Elidra to the ground as it worked in a furious pace swirling around the captive Jade, yet not freeing her.

“Release Jade.” Several voices merged into one. “Release her or the child you so terribly want to save will be lost forever, even beyond the darkness into oblivion. If you kill their messenger you will give up all hope.”

“That voice.” Xynari said under her breath in stunned wonderment. “Elidra you must listen. Let the witch go and they will all leave this place.”

Elidra looked to her in horror yet paused as she searched the face of the priestess. Pausing just another minute, Elidra dropped her head and closed her eyes instantly releasing Jade. Before anyone could react, Jade disappeared into the night leaving only a single swirling form behind. Immediately Xynari approached the form and dropped to a knee.

“Surely you have a message great Wyrm.” Xynari spoke amongst a set of stunned faces. “I am Xynari, Priestess of the One; ready to hear your message.”

“Priestess of the One, I have no message. I am here to guide all of you out of oblivion. He must return to his people.” The mist swirled around Delvakhan. “Breathe deeply now and take in the air.”

In response the mist grew in density and enclosed each of them into it. Delvakhan gasped for air unable to breath. Opening his eyes wide he watched as everything around him blurred and seemed to rip threw his body. Clawing at the mist, Delvakhan continued to struggle for breath. Swinging his arms wildly he felt nothing but the torrent winds of the mist around him.

“Breath in deeply.” The voice stated calmly “Breath in deeply or you will die.”

Fresh air exploded into his lungs as he tried to scream from the pain. Thunderous sounds assaulted his ears as massive streaks of color slammed into his eyes. Thrashing around holding his hands to head, Delvakhan felt himself rolling around on the ground. Continuing to breath, the sights and sounds around him began to calm and come into view. Rolling to his side he vomited a silver streaked milky white substance which immediately formed a pool in front of him. More pain filled his lungs, spreading to his stomach as he vomited again.

“Easy lad, it will pass.” A deep jolly voice filled his ears as a heavy hand rest reassuringly on his shoulder. “Oblivion to her is quite the ride.”

Vomiting a third and fourth time, Delvakhan felt weakness wash over his body. Fighting past it, he was able to lift himself onto one knee as he finally opened his eyes to look around. A beautiful coastline spread out before him as gentle blue waves turned into white frothy caps and billowed onto the shoreline. Blindingly white sand spread out as far as he eyes could see. Setting his hand onto the sand in front of him, Delvakhan took a handful of the soft powder and watched as he poured it back onto the ground.

“Where am I?” He wanted to ask more, yet his mind remained clouded.

“Home lad, in Windra.”

Delvakhan looked up to see a large yet stout yellow headed and bearded man sporting a smile from ear to ear. He couldn’t deny, beyond the hair, how much the man looked like his uncle. There was familiarity in the voice and mannerisms.

“You… are…” Delvakhan continued to struggle with words.

“Nurlo, one of your relative’s lad. Can’t say which tho.” Chuckling rather loudly Nurlo paused taking in a good look. Shrugging his shoulders, he then lifted Delvakhan to his feet with his strong hands. “Come on now time to get on your feet, you’re the last to arrive and before long the sun is going to set. No reason to stay on the shore.”

After only a few minutes, a spire broke the horizon and quickly turned into a peak of a large castle unlike anything Delvakhan had ever seen. Stone washed in a pearl white hue stood out against the blue of the sky almost matching the sand. At various points and times it seemed to disappear completely to its surroundings, reminding him of how Morin Tulan hid in the snow.

Nurlo was easy to follow as he moved with a familiar ease over the terrain. As the got close to the castle, they turned away from what appeared to be the main gate and instead walked directly to strong door set in the side of the wall. With a quick knock in a particular sequence, the door was opened. Clasping him on the shoulder, Nurlo invited him in with a broad smile. For a moment he tensed feeling as if he was walking into a trap. Left and right of him down a hallway that seemed to follow the wall, he quickly counted several dozen armored men walking along its length. He and Nurlo turned up a large gently spiraling staircase well lit with chandelier and intermittent drapes holding an image of an amethyst dragon intertwined with a red haired gryphon.

The wooden stairs ended in an archway that opened into a courtyard alive with people in a dense cluster. All around people were bartering, barking and generally involved in some type of business. Easily Nurlo navigated through the crowds and set them on course for an inner keep fronted by a large wooden and metallic door with a six guards standing in formation in front of it. Upon approach each guard stood erect and offered a smart salute of striking their closed fist upon their chest. Nurlo offered a quick responding salute and a slight nod of his head. Without a word the massive door opened giving access to a smaller courtyard heavy with more guards.

Heading straight through the courtyard, they were peppered with salutes until they came upon a narrow stairway which turned sharply twice to the right and ended at a landing with a single step to a wide hallway with several doors. Pulling a key from his cuff, Nurlo slid it into a thin hole in the door and turned it. With a soft click the door opened smoothly and Nurlo walked through, leaving it open.

Entering the room, Delvakhan saw a large table which easily sat twenty or so people. Only a few seats were vacant, one of which was immediately filled by Nurlo. Many faces looked to him with welcoming smiles. Elidra, Burakani and Xynari locked their eyes onto him immediately. Xynari jumped from her seat and almost tackled him with her hug. Gently pushing her back so he could look at her, Delvakhan looked into her eyes and smiled.

“Please join us my liege.” A thin man with a strangely pitched voice stood offering waving his hand at the center seat.

With Xynari returning to her seat, Delvakhan walked slowly to the chair offered as he looked at each face struggling to understand what was happening. Instinctively he dropped his hand and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of Bhor Wethrin. As he drew near his seat, everyone stood and waited for him to sit. The moment he did, all returned to sitting, looking at him in silence.

A portly woman reached over the table and placed her hand upon his, tapping it lightly. “It is good to see you finally here my nephew. I am your Aunt Celeste.”

Immediately the room was full of smiles, laughter and introductions. Next to his aunt Celeste were his aunt Trulie and uncle Yarmo, cousins Vivali, Biriana, Stride, Wer, Cine and on and on. Quickly he learned his family made up the royal court and each performed a duty for castle and its people in service to their absent liege. Each had been waiting for years since his father passed for him to return. Nohric had sent word he had arrived and was called away.

Everything and everyone fell silent as an elderly thin woman walked gingerly into the room supported by a gold and ivory cane. Immediately Celeste rose and escorted the old woman around the table until she stood next to Delvakhan. With a broad smile she lifted her arm and hung it around his neck. Carefully she leaned forwarded and kissed his cheek.

“I am glad you are home Vakhan. You have been gone too long.” She stated in an almost whisper as she kissed him again but on the top of his head.

Looking at him in the eyes she patted his hand and then turned to walk away. Grabbing Celeste’s arm she leaned up and whispered something. Immediately his Aunt’s face change as she walked the woman back through the door she entered from.

“Where were we?” Nurlo asked with a smile as he took up a goblet of wine and held it in toast. “To the return of our liege.”

In thunderous response everyone cheered him. It marked the beginning of the celebrations that quickly moved throughout the entire castle and its people. Each time Delvakhan tried to get away, another family member brought him back to the table and offered another salute. Finally after many hours, the table began to thin to only a few of them. With a nod from Nurlo, Celeste excused herself and left through another of the doors in the room. Looking at Delvakhan and the others remaining at the table, he nodded toward the door Celeste exited to and invited them to join.

“Rooms are set for the others. You lad have some family business to attend to.” Nurlo announced. When Delvakhan looked to Celeste and paused, Nurlo smiled. “Yer girlie can join us, but that’s it. It’s awful late and as I said its family business.”

Elidra and Burakani simply nodded and followed an escort out to their rooms. With a happy smile, Xynari strode beside Delvakhan with her arm wrapped around his. The room proved to be a library with heavy and comfortable seating centered on a fire pit and a heavy animal fur. Celeste was already sitting and sipping from a goblet staring at the fire. Other than Nurlo and his friends, Delvakhan was joined by Trulie, Yarmo and Stride.

“I don’t know how I got here. Can someone tell me what is going on?” A deep frown pierced Delvakhan’s brow.

“Timewalker sent you to oblivion. Don’t ask why because I never quite get what he is saying.” Nurlo answered.

“If he sent him, it was because someone very powerful was hunting him.” Yarmo added. “He did the same to Vakhan once, though no so long.”

Everyone nodded in agreement which only caused more confusion for Delvakhan. “Oblivion? Oblivion is a place?”

“By the Light lad, did the Rakshar teach you anything? You carry the sword and it is said you can fight, but what about your gifts? Did they not teach you anything?”

“I have no gift.” Delvakhan looked away as he answered.

“It’s in your blood; you just don’t know how to use it. Surely you have seen it, you are at that age. None can ride the mist without the gift.” Celeste responded.

Immediately Delvakhan thought about the strands he saw at Sarna. Deep inside him he felt a fire burning at his core. Everything he was trained to do was against such a power. The lesson was always to rely only on what was physical, that which he could touch and share.

“They couldn’t have trained him in it anyway. It will have to be done here. You will have to do it Celeste.” Yarmo stated.

“You will enjoy it.” Stride added smiling from ear to ear. Auntie Celeste is… well I will leave that up to you to find out.”

“I can’t.” Celeste answered

“What did Mother say?” Trulie asked knowingly as she sat next to her and set a hand on Celeste’s knee.

“He is the wrong Khan.” Celeste stated plainly.

“She is old and thought he was Lord Vakhan. Her mind is all but lost to us.” Stride answered quickly.

“Doesn’t change what she saw.” Celeste answered calmly dropping her head slightly as she fingered the edge of her glass. “No amount of age can take away her gift of sight.”

“What does this mean?” Delvakhan questioned unable to take his eyes off the fire in the pit, his cheeks reddening in response.

“Simply put lad, it means its going to be a tough war for us. If you aren’t the right Khan we will lose you as we lost the Lord Vakhan.” Nurlo responded. “But that doesn’t mean all things are bad. We have no idea when. So you could easily live a very long time.”

“Wait, you mean I am going to die because I am not the right person?” Delvakhan’s voice shook a bit as he spoke.

“It’s a damnable curse cousin. At least that is what everyone seems to believe although it has happened a grand total of once.” Stride answered in disgust. “Instead of just saying the Lord Vakhan died in war against the damnable north, it has to be some prophecy that caused it.”

“Have you read the tome boy?” Yarmo answered as he drained a full goblet of wine. “I have and there are reasons we know the truth of the words you ignore.”

“So what do we do?” Delvakhan asked in slow order while he looked to the faces of his companions.

“You do what any King would do. Whatever you like and enjoy life. Nothing you or we do can stop a simple fact. The south continues to suffer because you will die before this war with the north is over.” Celeste’s words were shallow and distant covered in a sadness that escaped none of them.