ã€ŠCurse of the Reaperã€‹


 Prologue

    From the Book of the Lost

    Excerpt: Lecture on the Creation of The World of Grim

    The age of the universe is beyond our meager human understanding. It was created in the dawn of time from the loins of Order. The universe consists of three parts: the two lower planes and the physical realm where we exist. Order created the Planes of Chaos to contain its brother from doing any more harm after a war almost destroyed the two. They fought after the death of their mother the Void. Chaos wrongly accused Order of the murder of their mother. Order established the Demon¡¯s Gate to keep the balance, allowing his brother to be able to send his messengers to do Chaos¡¯s bidding, but Chaos himself would never be let free again.

    Our plane was created to establish a balance, a place where the brothers could strive safely against one another for dominance. Like a pendulum on a clock, we are ever swinging to and fro, from light and dark, Order and Chaos. Worlds are created and destroyed across our vast realm in the battle between the brothers and their war to find who is the dominant twin. Order took his mother''s, the Void, corpse and filled the emptiness it contained with a multitude of stars across her. He and Chaos would build and destroy worlds for eons before creating our little speck of dirt that we humbly live on now.

    Our world¡¯s age is not known, but we do know it is Order who created it. Order spun it into being, everything that exists, every animal, tree, and rock, on Mid-Winters day or as the world knows it Grim-Tide. It created the Over and Underworld in a single instant and set the laws of physics into motion, establishing time and the influence of natural law as it should be. The world was free of the corruption of sorcery and the ilk it brings.

    Down in the Underworld, beside the Well of Souls, it created the caregiver for which the planet would be named, the Grim. This being would be its champion, one who would care for Order¡¯s planet and when the need would arise, defend it from the influence of Chaos. Order instilled its idea of perfection on the being. Grim had high prominent cheekbones and long, dark hair with a hawk nose. He was tall, broad-shouldered and muscular. In him, Order implanted enough wisdom to begin his task. Order had delighted itself for eons in watching caregivers learn, and this one would be no different. The Grim would be, however, and Order would watch him learn and grow into a wise being.

    Chaos began its work that day too. On the face of the World of Grim, life began to bud spontaneously. Chaos'' souls are a dangerous lot. He chooses not to control how the souls that are delivered by his demons take shape. Banderlings, ogres, goblins, and yes, even dragons, walked the face of the World of Grim that first day because of the uncontrolled release from Demon¡¯s Gate. Chaos looked upon the multitude satisfied with its work and retracted to itself like a coiled snake.

    Order looked up from the creation of the Grim, with sadness in its eyes, at what its brother had done to his paradise. He knew the need for his caregiver to hurry and wake. Order gave a gentle prod at the mind of the immortal being laying beside the stones of the Well of Souls.

    "Wake, my child" Order instructed,--light emanating from the water of the well. Through the well, the Grim could receive future instruction and guidance, if needed. Order would be there, a parent ready on the sidelines of this deadly game for dominance.

    The Grim''s glowing red eyes opened slowly as the being pushed itself off the hard rocky ground it found itself on. The immortal got to its knees looking around slowly in pure wonder at the Underworld where it found itself and the glowing well beside it. Order held its voice as it admired its creation.

    ¡°Who spoke to me?¡± Grim asked.

    "Your creator child." The well emitted a white light once more and the Grim jumped back, tripping on a rock and, landing on the seat of his pants. The Grim shifted forward, put trembling hands on the side of the well, and gazed into the depths of the water, watching in rapt wonder.

    ¡°Then you are, Order,¡± the Grim said in awe.

    "Aye, Child, and I have an important task for you too. You are to be the father of this planet; you are to be the Grim."

    The Grim looked around the barren Underworld, seeing only the empty clutter of the cavernous rocks and stalagmites, and looked back the well confused. He drew in a shaky breath as he prepared to question the well¡¯s task.

    "I do not mean to be rude, but rocks and dirt do not need fathers. If this is what I was created for, then, it seems my task is complete already."

    Laughing emitted from the well as blue and white light danced over the Grim''s hands and face.

    "Look up child, and see. This down here is but one side of the coin."

    The Grim raised his red gaze through the crust to the Overworld. His eyes widened with amazement at the life contained in the upper realm of his world. Even the monsters created by the release of Chaos''s souls amazed the Grim, and he envied the world. Order called Grim''s attention back to the well below.

    "Grim, the world above holds great beauty, but for you, it holds the greatest of dangers. You are immortal and can neither age nor die by conventional means, but time rules the Overworld. If you stay on the Overworld for longer than three days, you will perish. It takes a soul and a body to sustain yourself in the realm were time rules. You may go and live, learn, and love, but you may not stay. Take care of my world and keep it, this I command." The well glowed brightly and swirled, drawing Grim''s glowing red eyes to it., "This well contains a finite amount of souls. You may use them to create life as you wish, but use them carefully. They are all you have and there will be no more created for this world."

    The voice of Order faded, and the white light dimmed as the cavernous Underworld went quiet. The Grim turned his eyes eagerly toward the beautiful Overworld and exalted himself in the pleasures it contained. He spent his three days hiking on tall, virgin mountains that only his eyes had seen, riding horses across the broad plains as they raced each other for sheer pleasure, and swimming with the giant whales of the deep ocean. Regretfully, he returned to his Underworld and his studies at the Well of Souls, eagerly awaiting the two weeks until he could once more walk the face of the World of Grim.

    The Grim continued in this pattern, study and play, for several millennia, till he became lonely. Yes, even immortals can become lonely. He reached into the Well of Souls and called seven thousand fresh souls out, then formed from stones in a nearby river bed, first-man. He gave each a soul so they could exist on the Overworld and for the first three days, he showed them how to run and play with the wildlife. Each he gave his blessing and then The Grim returned to the Underworld to continue his studies at the feet of Order.

    Time passes quickly to a being who lives outside of its constricts. The Grim became engrossed in his studies and his first creation aged and died. Finally, one day in the far future, the Grim returned to check in on his creation. He called out to his people, knowing each one by their given name, but they would not move. They lay still on the ground, only a shadow of their former self. Panic set into the heart of Grim and he hurried into the Underworld, to the Well of Souls, yelling frantically for the voice of Order.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Peace Child," Order tried to calm the frantically shouting immortal., "What is the problem. Has my brother somehow interfered without my knowing it?"

    "No, Master., My creation, my man, will not move. They are somehow fastened in the spot where they lay. Why Master? Why do they look so different?"

    Order chuckled at the Grim and the realization of the dilemma. "You have been away for over one thousand years Grim. Your man is a mortal thing and has perished as mortals do. Now you must fulfill another part of your role as the caregiver of this World. You are to be its ultimate Memory. Go and reap their souls and learn from them what they learned from their mortal lives. Wipe clean their souls so they might live again.¡±

    And so Order instructed the Grim on the Reaping of Souls and Memory, and the Grim went forth and collected his people to him. He set the shades into the Underworld, building a city for them to match theirs on the Over. Then Order set to creating man over again, but this time, The Grim wanted to be sure they would not disappear from the face of the world yet again. He wanted them to persevere against the odds. He observed the planet as his master had created it and the order in which nature operated. The Grim realized his mistake then and took up some mud from a riverbank and created second-man. He imbued them with seven thousand fresh souls and breathed into them new life to dry them. Then he called them one by one, male and female, to him so that they would know that he was their creator.

    The Grim sat and watched his creation meet each other and play during that first day, and he remembered the words of his creator unbidden, ¡®should you remain on the Overworld for longer than three days you will perish,¡¯ and he worried for his new creation.

    He called out to his people for seven women, one for each thousand created, to be his wives and in that first night, he knew each in turn. They bore him the first fruits of second-man, heirs to the Throne of the Underworld, princes to the All-Father. The Grim brought their souls to them on the eighth day with pride and on that spot had a Temple built to honor the occasion. He declared that every two-weeks everyone should gather to hold a ceremony to honor his family and to bring their dead and babies for souls.

    The Grim''s wives handled the dead through the coming years and would come to be known as necromancers. Their names have faded into ancient history and forgotten, often wished to be cursed for what they brought into the world, but their sons'' names are remembered with fear and trembling. Shale, Ferle, Lent, Baine, Mathis, Het, and Gremlin grew among the people with arrogance and pomp. Chaos watched and saw its opportunity to unwind from its coiled position and strike, sinking its teeth deep into Order. It released a deadly venom known as sorcery into the World by way of the seven brothers, promising riches and glory to all.

    What the seven brothers found was intoxicating and deadly; they were no longer masters of themselves. They started practicing it, promising to use it for the noblest of causes and in the end, it consumed even the smallest of thoughts. On a seeming accident, the expansion of power was discovered when Baine killed a healer in the village where he and his mother lived. Enthralled with his newfound ability, he set off hunting anyone with a hint of power. His brothers, enraged, set to match him and it was a war for power. The population was forced to fight for the brothers or die resisting.

    The Grim, caught in the Underworld during a two week rest period, was summoned to the Well of Souls to answer for his creation. The well glowed a fiery red with anger as the immortal approached.

    ¡°What have you done Child, for the destruction of every plane is upon us!¡± Thunder boomed around the cavernous underworld as the anger of the voice tolled.

    "I have done nothing but ensure that my creation, our creation is provided for."

    "You are and will remain my creation and will answer to me," the voice answered his arrogance with anger. "An immortal was never meant to have a soul, but you have seen fit to create seven of them! If they are allowed to come into immortality on their twentieth year, then they shall become deities!"

    ¡°Deities?¡±

    "A deity, god -- something that should not at this point exist, Grim. If they are allowed to live then they will be for Chaos. They are already now an immortal soul, but their physical body has yet to pass to immortality. We can not erase the soul as with a mortal but we may yet use them elsewhere and salvage your disgrace. You must turn them to a reaper, so that they will be obedient and fully on our side. Chaos has entered into second-man now, and a balance must be maintained on my world. That means more work for you. You must now sit in Judgement over souls, maintaining the balance of Order and Chaos on the Overworld. I give you this River of Fate to help guide you by. It will tell you past, present, and all possible intertwining futures. Go now, Grim, and save this world."

    The Well of Souls gave up the essences it contained, and they went to dwell in the city below. The well spilled over and formed a river that flowed between the Throne of Grim and the City of the Underworld. Order instructed him on the creation of reapers, and the Grim wept for his family. He rose from the overflowing well and hurried to the first Temple, calling his wives to him. The Grim instructed them in The Curse of the Reaper and laid it upon each for their sons.

    They wept and put on black robes of mourning that are still worn to this day by the necromancers as a signal of the sorrow that is borne by every wife of Grim. The Grim took the power of Chaos and twisted it to Order and death, laying it upon the necromancers to aid them in the fight against their sons. Before he left, the Grim took two wives from among the many acolytes that served his family, and he issued them a new law. No necromancers were allowed to mother a child, Grim''s or not. If she became pregnant, when the child was born, his head was to be bashed upon birth.

    The wives left for the Battle of the Seven that waged not too far from the first Temple. The Grim left to mourn in the Underworld and await his family''s arrival. The wives arrived as the seven armies met for the final time on that fateful day. Each brother, armed as such with their sorcery, flung what they had madly around the battlefield, but they were not ready for the appearance of the Purpose of Order. Caught off guard, they were subdued and turned into reapers. Each mother gladly becoming the reapers¡¯ sacrament, for to keep the balance, for every chaotic soul to be damned so must an orderly soul. The mothers cried in ecstasy to be held by their sons on last time as they were borne to the Underworld. The War of the Brothers left second-man decimated and scared. To ensure that sorcery would never again hold sway the minds of man, Grim restricted the soul. It would refuse to co-inhabit another body to increase the owner''s power if the sorcerer had borne any ill will against the soul. After this, the Grim went to the Underworld to sit in Judgement for what would surely be the rest of his days.

    The People of The World of Grim

    The Grim ¨C Immortal caregiver to the world, creator of second-man, Champion of Order

    Bethel ¨C Mother Matron of the Temple at Tharpe, Damon¡¯s Mother, later- Zealot of Grim

    Marlin ¨C Bethel¡¯s lover, Blacksmith in Tharpe

    Philian (Phil)- Proprietor of the Three Pigs

    Fredrick ¨C Cariline¡¯s father, farmer, Leader of the resistance against the Temple

    The Lady Thewar- Proprietor of the Second Home, second of the Resistance

    Damon ¨C Son of Bethel and Rascus, Seed of Grim

    Faldo ¨C Son of Victor, Nephew of Jen, later ¨C Disciple of Grim

    Cariline- Slave to the Temple, betrothed to Damon, Later- Necromancer

    Rascus- Damon¡¯s Father, Reaper

    Jen- Second Necromancer at Tharpe

    Isobelle- Third Necromancer at Tharpe

    The Originals- The First Seven Original Reapers, sons of Grim Mathis, Baine, Shale, Lent, Gremlin, Ferle, Het.

    Sedrick ¨C Sorcerer of the First Circle, later Seed of Destruction and vessel of Baine

    Vic- Soldier in the Temple Garrison

    Wedge - Soldier in the Temple Garrison

    Lucy- wife of Grim, Seneschal of the Underworld

    Thomas ¨C Sergeant of the West Garrison, Nephew of Bethel, cousin to Damon

    Salina- Sister to Bethel, Healer, Sorcerer of the Fifth Circle

    Master Delver- Lich, Head of the Council of Sorcerer¡¯s at Salastar, most potent sorcerer alive err dead.

    Wallace- Corporal of Western Garrison Later- Captain

 Chapter One

    A beautiful young woman lay on a straw mat cot in a hut of rude fashion. The reed walls were lined with earthenware pots containing exotic ointments and herbs. From the beam rafter above hung plants drying, so the healer could grind them for later use. In the middle of the one-room hut, a low fire burned in a pit through the raised floor and a black iron pot hung with water steaming, heating linens. The young woman lay writhing and moaning on that cot, her belly with its skin stretched tight, heavy with child. She wore a homespun dress, but with her lustrous raven black hair and flint grey eyes, she was indeed a sight to behold, even in her current state.

    A handsome young man crouched beside her with wavy shoulder-length blonde hair and a well-kept mustache adorning his upper lip. The young man was dressed in brightly colored, luxurious silks and he looked the part of a central court dandy. A finely crafted Roldem Steel rapier hung to one side and a long knife to the other. When one looked closer at this dandy though, they tended to take him more seriously. One look in those deep, cold blue eyes told you he cared not about your life and you walked away, thankful he let you live.

    Right now, he was haggard and tired, and his head hung low. He held the woman¡¯s hand like it was his most treasured, fragile possession, afraid at any moment he would lose her. Another heavy contraction hit the woman and she let out a wail, her flint-grey eyes sealed shut as if to shut the pain out. Her fingers clenched her man¡¯s hand till he flinched in pain, her other clinched the edge of the cot, making the wooden frame creak as her back arched off the covers. Sweat drenched her in the heat of the summer, the humidity refusing her one inch of relief amidst her labor.

    The man cast her a worried glance and then looked up from his vigil to search for the female healer who would deliver the burden the woman carried. The healer worked across the hut on ointments and potions that she would need to heal those in this small village of Vale. This woman mattered not to her, he could see that.

    ¡°My Lady Healer,¡± he called for her, his voice barely held out his contempt for the healer, ¡°is there not anything we can do for her pain or to let her rest? She has been laboring for sixteen hours. I fear we may lose her.¡±

    The healer looked at the man with an amused look in her eyes and shook her head a little. ¡°Every man goes through this when he is present at the birthing of the child. These labor pains are quite normal,¡± she assured him. ¡°Your friend is doing fine. I have seen women go for days in labor. The bleeding has been light and for her first child, she has progressed remarkably fast. She must love you very much for she has not tried to kill you once.¡±

    ¡°Can you at least check her, please, madam?¡± He pleaded in a soft voice.

    ¡°If it will put your mind to rest, sir,¡± she sighed.

    The healer crossed the room from her cluttered workstation to the cot and laid a hand on the woman¡¯s lower abdomen. She murmured a short incantation and her hand glowed a soft blue. The healer gave a full smile ear to ear and spoke softly to the stomach.

    ¡°Eager to join the world, aren¡¯t we little one?¡± Then she turned to the gentleman, ¡°go fetch fresh linen from over there and warm linen from the fire. Your little one will be here in a short time.¡±

    The next half hour was filled with much screaming and crying. The death threats that the healer had warned about came as the woman went so far as to threaten to maim him permanently just to feel the pain she felt now. In the end, a beautiful, healthy son was birthed to them with his mother¡¯s dark hair.

    The healer helped the man clean the bloody baby with warm wet linens, then tie and cut the life chord connecting it to its mother. He gently placed his son in his woman¡¯s arms next to her tit so his son could suckle and turned to the healer. From his belt, he produced a pouch of coin and handed it to the healer. She opened it, her eyes went wide, and her face paled trying to find words. When she finally could speak, she did so in a ragged voice filled with tears.

    ¡°But noble sir, the charge is only one silver for the birthing of a child. ¡¯Tis a healer¡¯s Job to combat death and Order by bearing life and its wonder, I...I-I can¡¯t accept.¡± She sobbed.

    ¡°Be at ease Sister, for the one silver is at the bottom.¡± He reached up and lay a hand on her heaving shoulders. ¡°The rest is payment for what comes next.¡±

    ¡°What is it, sir, that you would pay a king¡¯s ransom for? Certainly not to end the poor one¡¯s life, for I know who the woman is.¡± The healer said offended.

    ¡°No, actually, quite the opposite. I want your silence on who this is.¡± The man said and the healer nodded. ¡°And I need a caregiver for my son for the next eight days. Can you do that?¡±

    The healer nodded and looked back at the woman who was cooing at the baby but eyed the two with a speculative look. The baby was healthy and seemed to be eating heartily at his mother¡¯s breast.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Healer. We will get you a nanny goat before we leave as to provide milk for our son in our absence.¡± The woman said, exhausted.

    ¡°So, what shall I call my new roommate, so we are not to be strangers when his soul arrives.¡± The healer inquired.

    ¡°His name is Damon,¡± the dark-haired woman said tiredly, ¡°for he was a demon to birth.¡±

    A single man walked across the lonesome, windswept downs between the Great Woods of Doldrom and the Blue River. The highlands were empty, save for some scatterings of outcroppings of rock and a few trees. If the scraggled stranger made good time with his long smooth strides, tonight he would spend a pleasant evening in the Three Pigs. It was a tavern owned by an excellent friend of his that he had made in the two years he had resided within the walls of the Chaos cursed city.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    He had come to the East, like so many others, looking to outrun both king and past. The Free Towns of the East were rumored widely in the west to be a haven, where one could live without the restraints of law. What he and so many others discovered when they arrived, is the Temples ruled with even more ruthlessness the even the most greedy baron.

    In the west, some pressure could be put on the King by the council of the Dukes, when policy got out of hand. Certain edicts had to be ratified through them, and they had certain rights over their duchies. Here in the East though, each Matron ruled her district with impunity and absolute authority. She was judge, jury, and in some cases, she was the last face you ever saw.

    Sadly after two years of dealing with rising taxes and constant shakedowns, the homesteader moved towards the Expanse, an unexplored land beyond civilization. It was there that those refugees were now finding freedom. He would make his regular trips into town once a month to get supplies for his family. This trip had been his yearly trading round to Port Hope at the southern tip of Ratar''. After so many weeks on the road, he was ready to be home for a while.

    The rugged traveler reached the edge of the tall bluff overlooking the Great City of the Lake, Tharpe. It was the second-largest city in the East and one that, at the moment, was ruled by a ruthless tyrant. Out beyond the grey walls lay the Dim Lake, tossing angrily in the winter¡¯s wind. The Lake was a source of income for many in the city, though the work was dangerous even in the best of weather. He whistled as he descended the bluff into the wooded thicket as the road wound lazily towards the city. It wasn''t long before he stood at the gates and the guard stumbled out, muttering curses at the cold and the fool that made him leave his ale pot. The homesteader squinted at the guard and then burst out in a yelp of joy. He had not seen this old friend for a while. Somehow they always missed each other when he came in and he was thrilled to see him now.

    ¡°Rufus, you old scoundrel! You can hush your damnable cursing, leave your ale pot, and be thankful warm friends are here to greet you.¡± The old homesteader said laughing.

    The guard, face flushed with the spirits, turned his bleary eyes for closer inspection of this man in furs who called him a friend. His face broke into a snaggle-toothed grin and he clasped the other¡¯s arm and drew him into a hug. The soldier gagged and turned to heave noisily into the snow. He whipped his mouth off and made a sour face.

    ¡°Herbert, friend, either the spirits are messing with me, or you are in sore need of a bath.¡± The soldier said, moving upwind.

    Herbert chuckled, ¡°You know how I feel about Doldrom, and I had a run-in with a skunk a week back, sorry old friend.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no problem, but a fair word would be appreciated next time. Damn Grim¡¯s own eyes, ain¡¯t it good to see you again? Would you like to come into the guard shack, the corporal won¡¯t mind for you? It is colder than Baine¡¯s privies out here, it is.¡± He said with another shiver.

    ¡°No, Rufus, if I am staying inside the walls of a town, I will be obeying the statuettes. We won¡¯t be all that long out here my friend.¡±

    ¡°David said you were through a month back, he told all the boys to tell you sorry for the Necromancers¡¯ taxes, but he had too,¡± the soldier said sorrowfully and then slapped the man hard across the head. ¡°I was on my half ten off why didn¡¯t you look me up, man?¡±

    ¡°I did,¡± Herbert rubbed a stinging ear. ¡°Unfortunately, I don¡¯t think you were in any shape to remember anything. I don¡¯t think a keg could hold any more ale then you had in you that night.¡±

    Herbert chuckled at the memory. Corporal David had told him that Rufus had gone to the Three Pigs to find him some drink and his favorite whore, Alesia. Herbert had gone to ¡®look him up¡¯ as Rufus had put it. What he had been exposed to when he had opened the door after being told to come in by a slurred voice, was Rufus quickly trying to put on his lady friends corset. He had stopped dead in his tracks and fell over laughing with Alesia, who was near wetting herself, as she lay naked on the floor.

    ¡°You know, you say you did, Alesia says you did and then laughs, but I don¡¯t remember. I always remember what happens when I¡¯m drunk.¡± He protested, ¡±Anyways how are my Anne and my two lovely little nieces?¡±

    ¡°They miss their Uncle Rufus, and Anne¡¯s said to give you something.¡± Herbert stopped and made a disgusted face.

    ¡°Well? What did she say to give me, for Grim¡¯s sake? I want my present, Herb.¡± Rufus persisted.

    ¡°No, you¡¯ll throw up again. I will let Anne kiss you next time she comes in.¡±

    ¡°Oh, by the Reaper that¡¯s gross, not funny. Herbert that is not funny.¡± Rufus almost yelled.

    ¡°Well, there was that one time...¡± Herbert began and left it to hang in the air unfinished as he looked slyly at his old friend.

    ¡±I thought we agreed never to mention that again! There was a keg involved, and the man had a dress with bows. Really! Anyone could have made that mistake.¡± Rufus protested.

    ¡°He had a beard.¡± Herbert pointed out dryly.

    ¡°Oh, just get through will ya,¡± Rufus said giving his friend a rough playful shove.

    Herbert laughed at his friend¡¯s red face asking ¡°Are you going to be at Philian¡¯s tonight?¡±

    ¡°No, I just started my ten days, but give Phil and Cariline my best.¡± Rufus waved his farewell.

    ¡°Well then, good day to you and I will see you in the morning.¡± Herbert smiled as he walked down the road towards the Three Pigs.

    Once through the massive gates, the cobbled road led straight to the center of the city to the most important location that the Easterners had, The Temple. From there the City did as most did, almost without thought, and segregated itself out. Towards the east gate, known as the Tradesman Gate, through which Herbert entered the Great City of the Lake, lay your taverns and counting houses. That is also where your shops existed and the merchants who ran them lived.

    Towards the west side lay the rough dockside district and the poor side. Every city in the world had slums and Tharpe was not an exception. The north and south sides were made up of the middle class and farmer class. Those that harvested the natural resources that were bountiful to Tharpe and made her prosper lived in these places.

    Herbert''s destination lay on the east side of town. The Three Pigs was one of two places that offered accommodations in Tharpe and the only one he cared for. The Inn of the Second Home was owned by the disreputable Lord Dravor, a bastard son of a western noble, living out his miserable life in disgrace in the safe East. Not many liked the high born, his lack of respect for individuals upset others where rank meant little.

    The swinging sign with three dancing pigs came into view, blowing in the strong winter¡¯s wind. Herbert hurriedly grabbed the latch and jerked the heavy wooden door handle open and crossed the threshold into the first touch of civilization he had tasted in a month.

 Chapter Two

    Steely irises never left the back of the young man as he swept around the room completing preparations to go for the evening. Those hard eyes belonged to a woman of around forty winters, who watched the young man with interest. Her nimble fingers worked deftly to braid the graying hair that had once been an almost blue-black. Eventually, it was put up into the severe bun that she affected everywhere. Soon, she would don her black robes of the office of Necromancer that lay over the back of a white satin couch not far from her so she could once more continue the duties of her sworn office.

    She squinted her eyes in thought as the young man returned to the fireplace to casually throw a piece of firewood into the roaring hearth. In his movements, she saw his father. In the deft and agile movements, she saw a killer. She wanted to cry and scream in frustration. The evil she had driven herself to commit for this boy was for not, it would seem. Damon had turned into exactly what his father had been.

    Rascus had been a mystery to the young Bethel, but for the vain beauty who had just been picked by the Grim as a necromancer, he was a mystery she wanted to unravel. He was a charming and dark, carnal man who lust for flesh seemed only matched by her desire to give. Too late it seemed, she found how violent of a man he was and it frightened her. The death Rascus was capable of was terrifying. It did not compare to the torture he used to bring the death about. As her son grew, she watched him carefully for signs of his worldly father in him and as they appeared, she found herself scrambling to save her baby boy.

    She shrugged off the first few merchants Damon ruined by turning the charges on them and forcing them into massive tithes to the Temple. She swore as soon as Damon changed then she would ease up on the taxes, but she found the lucrative income helped her to provide a comfortable living for her son outside the Temple grounds and farther from the prying eyes of her immortal husband. As Damon broke the law more, Bethel had to struggle to keep pace to cover his trail of destruction. The coffers in the Temple swelled with the riches of the extortion business her son had inadvertently started for her.

    She had tried to protect him the best she could. As the Mother Matron, she had considerable influence, but these last two incidents, however, would see her dead if she could not find a way to have him reign in his criminal operations. Thewar''s father was dead, his body barely cold in the freshly turned grave, as a word of warning to the Lady that only Matron Bethel held real power in this town. In another realm of problems, Bethel, unfortunately, had to buy Cariline, that little slut who her poor boy had the unfortunate occasion to be caught with, from Fredrick, Cariline''s father. Slavery had never been allowed in Ratar, the Grim forbid it. Bethel found an obscure passage had appeared in the text in the middle of the night that did allow for indentured servitude but still forbid life long sentences. With the legalization of slavery and the hanging of Lord Dravor, the sentiment had turned bitterly against her personally.

    "No, dear," Bethel said gently, breaking from her deep thought. "Put the books over there. Jen will need those later for a case later this week."

    The youth favored her with a smile and changed directions to set the stack of three books near the door. It was so strange, on the surface he seemed so benign and good, but underneath lurked something sinister and dark at times.

    Damon continued his preparations as she watched in rapt fascination. There could be no denying his looks came directly from his immortal heritage. He had the hawk nose and high cheekbones but that slight build and graceful movements, that was all from Rascus. The Grim had a striking and powerful build, where her earthly husband had been slender and deft in his movements. But the rest, by all Order the way, he looked so much like Grim it made her shiver.

    She did not fear for her own life but that of her son¡¯s. Bethel took in a trembling breath. There was not a day that went by that she did not dread that hour when her master and dreaded immortal husband would find out about her son. If Damon did not ease up, then the flood of corpses flowing into the Underworld would draw the Grim here, and the consequences would be dire. Today would have to be the time to discuss with him about his nocturnal habits and his taste in women.

    He was slipping his coat on and reaching for his fur-lined hat when she cleared her throat.

    ¡°Ah yes mother,¡± her son crossed the floor to where she sat in her chair and kissed her forehead, ¡°so forgetful of me.¡±

    ¡°Not quite dear,¡± she said with a small laugh, reaching up to pat his cheek, ¡°Can we talk for a second?¡±

    ¡°As long as it isn¡¯t too late, Faldo and Cari are expecting me tonight.¡±

    ¡°This is hard for me to talk about this son. I am not oblivious in the least of your chosen occupation,¡± she began taking in a long, deep breath, ¡°unfortunately neither are the people here in our fair city.¡±

    ¡°Mother, half these wretches barely know that winter is cold and summer is hot, and they walk around with the shoes on the wrong feet. They can¡¯t possibly be all that brilliant.¡± He objected.

    ¡°You forget of all the others I have had to make object lessons of,¡± she sat forward finishing her braid into her typical bun, ¡°even a blind goblin could follow the trail I have had to leave and figure where it goes.¡±

    ¡°So what is it you want from me?¡± He asked speculatively.

    ¡°Two weeks ago, I let you out of jail after the theft at the Thewar¡¯s residence but to do that I had to hang her father and threaten to do the same to her. Hanging a Lord''s son, even a bastard, has its consequences. I have had to keep her busy trying to pay the Temple the back tithe. Son, the opinion of the Temple, is at an all-time low, I have even had to start to dig into the treasury for the past year for provisions. I need you to curb it.¡± She pleaded with her son, voice begging.

    ¡°Mother these animals don¡¯t need these items I am taking. You and I are in the same business. It is just how we see the crop.¡± He said casually as he tightened his belt around his trousers snuggly. Damon did not even bother to glance up at her glistening eyes to see his casual words strike home.

    The realization then hit her with how calloused and off-handed he handled it; he was his father¡¯s son. Damon cared not one wit for the ones he hurt, and now she was unsure if he cared for her. Her anger started to rise at the thought that she had done all this evil to no avail in trying to raise him. There was no justification for his attitude, no rhyme.

    ¡°No, they are not animals. No, you want to know what, scrap that, they are animals! To Grim with it!¡± She seethed rising to her feet in rage. The floorboards creaked under the sudden movements.

    ¡°See I knew you would see it my way,¡± he said with a certain satisfaction in his voice as he turned back to the hat rack. Her son hummed absently to himself oblivious to his mothers two steel orbs drilling holes into his back.

    ¡°Yes son you helped me see it that way two years ago, remember? With a knife to my throat?¡± She said quietly as he turned back around to look at his mother in disbelief, ¡°Yes, see I knew you would! When I changed the laws and bought the temples first animal off a farmer named Fredrick.¡±

    Damon¡¯s face went dark, and he clenched his jaw. He let the tan slope hat he picked up slide, unchecked, out of nerveless fingers to the ground.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do this mother,¡± he warned her in a soft, pleading voice. Damon''s dark eyes brimmed slightly as a fist balled by his side.

    ¡°Why Damon they are just animals, for buying, killing, and ¨C¡° the next word she said with a purposeful pause, giving time for tension to build. She was beyond caring about what he thought or what her son was capable of. ¡°-- breeding. Why do you think I put my investment in a tavern so that we could get that heifer fat. She needed to get rode by some real bulls. I want some re¡ª¡± She said vehemently. Damon never moved so quickly as he backhanded his mother across the face with a fleshy crack. She spun backward with the force of the blow, breaking a table as she fell through it. She lay still, secretly hoping it would end but it didn¡¯t.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    She heard him come closer and whisper in her ear. ¡°Nobody talks about Cariline that way in front of me and lives, but you have given me my life too many times to count, so we are even. Consider yourself chastised. I love you mother.¡± He kissed her swollen cheek painfully and walked out slamming the door. A vase fell from the shelf from the force of the door, shattering in sharp shards across the floor. She felt as though it was her heart because she knew what she had to do.

    A young woman rushed out of the backside of a large tavern into an alley with her hand clamped tightly over her face, covering her mouth. She was running blindly for the public jakes that were located just across the way, green eyes wide with fear. She got halfway down the stairs before vomit shot between her fingers, and she let go to grasp the wooden railing and finish retching over the edge to the muddy ground below. It smelled like piss out here, making her want to vomit more, but she brought her stomach slowly under control. She tried vainly to pick the contents of her stomach out of her curly dark auburn hair.

    She reached down and took the dishtowel out of her aprons, using the rancid cloth to wipe the bile off her face then her hands. She sighed in dismay as she looked at her hands. Two years ago, they were healthy-looking, with nails that were neatly trimmed. Now, she had to chew her fingernails off leaving them tore and ragged, and her hands were calloused and red from the harsh lye soaps used for cleaning. She finished cleaning her clothes the best she could. She didn¡¯t understand it, not one bit. She shook her head in the futility of trying to clean her dress homespun dress. She had spewed all down the front, and she would have to stay up till midnight washing it, again.

    Up until two months ago, she was a healthy young woman of seventeen winters, eighteen this Grim-Tide. She had never had any of the usual sicknesses as a child. No pox, no wart, she didn¡¯t even usually get colds through the winter. Now, it seemed like somehow she miraculously vomited more through the day then she consumed, and on the flip side, she had cravings at the oddest time. The other night she woke Philian to ask if she could have pigs feet and pickled eggs, even now it still made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. Her breast had grown twice their normal size in the past month, if they became much larger she would have to get a new dress, but all the men appreciated it and they hurt so bad. She kept slapping Damon¡¯s appreciating hands away.

    She couldn¡¯t talk to Philian about these things. He was just a man. Phil was a gentle soul, but he didn¡¯t know anything about what females went through on a monthly bases. Right now, she needed her mother and thanks to her owner of two years, her mother had not seen her since Cariline was sold off like an animal. Of course, it was fine with her father that she had not visited all that time. She was, after all, the shame of the family. All he could harp about before she left was how this was the only way she would save the family.

    She spat out some more bile still feeling waves of nausea. Call it whatever you liked, she was sold because her family had not paid enough taxes to the damnable Matron. The Matron could ride a reaper for all she cared. They would get along great Cariline thought morbidly.

    Maybe one of these days they could help the Matron Bitch get that chance to find out if she liked reapers if the rumblings continued. People in the tavern were on edge and ready to follow Port Hope''s example. Port Hope¡¯s Matron went insane after too many years of talking to the dead and started ordering random slayings, so the residents tied a smith anvil to her and threw her off a ship into the bay. The people began to wonder if maybe they should try that to Bethel. Bet Bethel¡¯s Grim wouldn¡¯t give one hair on his ass to save her. If he found out what she did here, he would probably let the reapers take turns with her.

    She heard a door open behind her and caught the whiff of ale and unwashed human bodies that mixed with the smell of the urine in the alley, and she lost the battle she had been waging. Cariline grabbed the railing and heaved hard enough that she felt if she opened her eyes, they might pop out. She felt the gentle touch of a big comforting hand on her shoulder and knew that Phil had noticed her absence in the main room and went looking for her. She sobbed from the exertion that came from the retching and finally stood trembling to let the cold breeze evaporate the beading sweat off her forehead.

    Phil handed her a clean rag and put his arm around her shoulder making shushing noises as if to a kid. He was the one blessing of this entire servitude. The portly man was gentle and kind, always looking out for her and making sure no one would touch her. When she first came into his service, she was dubious of him for his looks. He was a large man, with rolls of fat that fell off of him like butter. He had beady little eyes and an upturned nose with ever so pointy ears. He looked like one of the pigs described in the name of his tavern. But as she worked there, under his guardianship, she found him to be extremely intelligent, caring and always concerned about her welfare. He had convinced her to better herself, that when her four years of servitude was up, she could make something of herself.

    ¡°Girl, you should see a healer. What is it now, a month?¡± The barkeep asked in worried tones.

    ¡°No, two months,¡± she said shaking her head, still catching her breath. ¡°I am at as much of a loss as you, Phil.¡±

    ¡°The other night when you woke me girl put me in memory of when I was married,¡± Phil said sorrowfully.

    Cariline looked surprised at Philian. In the two years, she had come to live with him. He had never mentioned a wife. In fact she never even seen him lay eyes on a woman.

    ¡°Phil please don¡¯t take this wrong but I didn¡¯t think you had an eye for girls. I mean, in the two years I have known you, you have never seemed interested.¡± She said a little embarrassed. He chuckled, shaking his bald head side to side, shoulders heaving slightly as his great belly jiggled.

    ¡°Cari, I am Fifty-nine winters old. Parts on men stop being good for much other than pissing after a certain point. It just doesn¡¯t do any good to look anymore.¡± He said, with an embarrassed bemused look on his face.

    She made a disgusted face, shaking her head violently as if trying to sling the thought out of her head.

    ¡°Ew! Phil gross, that was imagery I could do without,¡± she whined as she clasped her tiny hands over her eyes.

    ¡°Hey its a fact of life lass, just like your man will one day be affected by the same state.¡± he sighed, the somber look returning to his face, ¡°Cariline it is also the fact that my wife showed all the signs that you are showing now girl, when she was pregnant. She was sick for months. She had cravings that drove me wild. One time she even wanted hard liquor, I had to go to a smuggler. And she was moody. Cari, you have been moodier than a banderling getting jabbed with a spear...¡± He droned on with more reasons why he thought she was pregnant when she had a sudden realization. One of the terms of her servitude was attending the Temple every two weeks, and it had been six temples since she had bled her cycle. Fear began to build in her. She had no women to talk to so she asked the one person who had any idea.

    ¡°Um... Phil this is embarrassing, but when a woman is um pregnant, does she, you know cycle anymore?¡± She asked timidly.

    ¡°Cycle?¡± He repeated with a raised eyebrow, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

    ¡°Bleed every month,¡± she said with a little exasperation creeping into her voice.

    ¡°Not to my meager knowledge, I know my Helda didn¡¯t. But that is also my point dear, Helda died trying to birth a child without a healer, I don¡¯t want to lose you. It may be nothing.¡± He reassured her.

    Dread started to build up in her. If she were pregnant, then the Temple would double the amount of tithe owed, or they would demand the death of the child before the eighth day to prevent the cost of room and board. Either option brought tears to her eyes. The joy of having a child of Damon¡¯s would make her so happy but to have that some child in these conditions made her sorrowful and the mixed emotions made her angry. She turned and started hammering her fist on Phil¡¯s expansive chest, wailing in frustration. The big man looked down in sympathy and gathered her back into his arms and shushed her again.

    After she had quieted herself, he asked, ¡°Now, what was that about?¡±

    ¡°If I keep the baby, the Temple will demand double the servitude, six more years to pay for the extra soul but they may also demand I kill it before the Ceremony of the Soul. Oh, Phil, it is supposed to be a joyous occasion, and now I am just, so frustrated.¡± She cried in short sobs, hiding her ear streaked face against him.

    ¡°Oh? Is that all.¡± he said with a smile pulling on his chubby cheeks, ¡°Well if you can not tell yourself a secret, I will tell you what you are getting for Grim-Tide. I am paying off your Tithe.¡± He finished the sentence with a conspiratorial whisper behind his hand and a wink.

    She stopped not being able to breathe, that meant she would be free to go and to be with Damon. She stared wide-eyed at her friend in shocked disbelief.

    ¡°Now you keep this pregnant thing under wraps until after I pay it off on Grim-Tide. The Matron and I already have set a price.¡± He said firmly. She squealed and threw her arms around Phil¡¯s large neck kissing his cheek exuberantly.

    ¡°Yep definitely pregnant,¡± he said with flushed embarrassment bringing a ringing laugh to her lips.

 Chpter Three

    The door to the Tavern of the Three Pigs flew open with a gust of cold wind to admit the lean, dark, brooding youth. The inside of the tavern was smokey but well lit and very roomy with two hearths, one at each end. It had a bar that ran the entire length of the main room and the kitchen right behind it. It looked as if tonight it was filled with all of the usual patrons. Times had turned hard for Tharpe, with such high taxes, so business tended to be slow.

    Damon headed for his usual spot to the side of the rear fireplace. His hand hurt, one of the knuckles continued to swell from the impact of the blow to his mother''s face. He shouldn¡¯t have struck her, but she had crossed the line in what she had said about his beloved and after tonight intended. Damon did not know what had got into his mother. She usually would toe the line with the rest of them. He pretty much ran the town, bringing in more money from extortion and theft last year then the Temple had for the past five.

    He and his soul brother Faldo had their fingers everywhere, from smuggling in un-taxed liquor for people like Phil here in the tavern to demanding ¡®protection money¡¯ to keep gangs off shopkeepers back that was paid by Faldo and Damon. Everybody knew you did not cross him and if you did there was always a price to pay, most of the time your life.

    Damon stormed across the floor, muttering oaths to every foul demon he could think that had ever existed and some that he just made up, somehow wishing that the moment tonight when he would ask Cariline to marry him would hurry and get here. He and Faldo had stolen this ring set purposefully. It dated back to King Rodrick I and was worn by his first wife before she was beheaded to make way for the King¡¯s second wife.

    The Lady Thewar had picked it up for a fortune on her last trip into the Federation, and word reached his ears by one of the many servants in her house that he paid. He and Faldo would have stolen it regardless of whether they were giving it to Cariline or not.

    He spotted Faldo over at the bar and angled over towards him. His big friend was waving enthusiastically at him. Faldo stood two heads above everyone else in the room and had a booming voice two levels above everyone else in the room too. The big man wore his blonde hair chin length, and he had sky blue eyes that sparkled mischievously usually. Faldo was jovial, outgoing, a bit of a dandy, and to all outward appearances, a fool but he was no one''s fool.

    He was as quick and agile on his feet as Damon and better with a sword. Damon could out throw him with knives and was a better brawler than the big man, as Faldo found out when they were children. The two balanced each other out, Faldo lacked blood lust preferring to steal and leave quietly at that. He would move on, leaving someone alive if he could, but as Damon had often pointed out, dead men¡¯s tongues could not wag. Faldo kept Damon¡¯s lust for blood somewhat under control and helped to boost the younger partner¡¯s eye for wealth. They worked well with each other.

    Faldo stood with everyone¡¯s favorite tavern wench, Aliesa. One night with her left men swearing they were in love. He had his arm secured protectively around her and from the look of the pouch on her waist had already secured her services for some time that night. He stood tall enough that the petite redhead could walk unhindered under his arm. They strolled up, side by side, her body lithely tantalizing in her black satin dress.

    ¡°Ah! Damon my boy, I was wondering if all the girls were mine tonight. One must be careful to do battle with the right one though, for you can only sheath your sword once right.¡± He said with a knowing wink at Aliesa. If he was trying to embarrass either, he failed. The woman gave Damon a mischievous smile.

    ¡°Well inexperienced boys do tire in battle and need to put their swords in the sheaths quickly before they fall from exhaustion, but you can weed out the experienced men, for they whip their swords back out of the sheaths and do battle again.¡±

    Faldo¡¯s face grew heated with embarrassment. Obviously, the money on the woman¡¯s waist was for services rendered already.

    Damon let out an exaggerated sigh, ¡°Yes it¡¯s a shame, for when one is learning to use his sword, his body does tire, and his sword will fall if he has sheathed it once already, doesn¡¯t it Faldo. For are you not an experienced swordsman?¡±

    ¡°Bah! I know from experience if you use a sword too much you lose its edge.¡± Faldo retorted without thinking.

    ¡°So Heather has told me,¡± Aliesa giggled, ¡°but a little advice from a master-at-arms, it only loses its edge for those who are too afraid to stroke it with a stone to keep it honed and ready for battle. Well, boys, I have men to recruit to the army.¡± She dislodged herself from Faldo¡¯s arm and walked away, working her way through the crowd. She would stop on occasion whispering in the ear of a man tantalizing thoughts to try to stir business.

    Damon turned to Faldo with a completely straight face and pointed ¡°Your sheath is walking away.¡±

    Faldo''s face grew rueful as he replied, ¡°At least I have found where the sheath is tonight my friend.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, but then the night is young, and children must be off to bed. Give my best to your father and kiss your mother for me.¡° Damon replied dramatically with a mock look of sorrow on his face as he turned Faldo around and patted him on the bottom towards the door.

    Faldo swatted Damon¡¯s hand away and turned around to glower at him. Then, with childlike humor, Faldo stuck his tongue out at him.

    ¡° Oh go stroke it with that wet stone.¡± He said pointing at Damon¡¯s hand, ¡° You use that pig sticker you call a sword too much these days.¡±

    Faldo¡¯s head snapped forward as someone smacked him hard and a shrill voice piped from behind him, ¡°Hey I am not a pig. And it is not that small, and from what I hear from Heather, yours ain¡¯t exactly a long sword yourself.¡±

    They turned and saw Cariline standing with her fist on her hips and staring hard at Faldo, with a pouty lower lip. Her auburn hair had just was neatly combed and her dress had just been freshly changed. She crossed her arms and tamped her foot staring hard at the big man.

    ¡°What?¡± Faldo held out his hands questioning. She burst into giddy laughter at his puzzled look and ran past Damon into Faldo¡¯s expecting arms. She reached up and gave Faldo a peck on the cheek.

    ¡°Do you have any of that for me?¡± Damon asked teasingly.

    ¡°No,¡± She said coming over and rubbing her hands down his lean muscled torso.

    ¡°No why?¡± Damon said breathing in deeply.

    ¡°Because you haven¡¯t been a good enough boy.¡± she purred continuing her explorations of his body.

    Damon took a sharp gasp as her hands reached lower, ¡°Dammit woman, that¡¯s not what you said last night.¡±

    ¡°Well my love, that was last night, and this is tonight.¡± suddenly she pinched him hard causing Damon to yelp in surprise and spun around back of him pointing an accusing finger at Faldo over Damon''s shoulder, ¡° and this brigand has insulted your woman and your --um-- armament, all in the same sentence. Defend my honor and your sticker.¡± She demanded imperiously.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Cariline¡¯s green eyes twinkled mischievously and locked with Faldo¡¯s deep blue orbs. The big man cocked a silly grin back as he took off his leather glove and stepped to Damon. He lightly slapped him on each cheek and threw his glove down to the ale stained floor below.

    ¡°I say you and your inadequate --um-- armament are not worthy of such a fine and noble lady as she,¡± He said with a flourished bow to Cariline, ¡° and I challenge you to a contest on the field of the tavern. If you dare pick up my mettle and match me.¡± Damon looked amused at his big friend and his woman. Both jested at each other lightly and were enjoying this foolishness, and it was taking his mind off the matters at hand. He reached down, lightly picking the glove up and smacked Faldo as hard as he could, staggering the big man backward.

    He leaned forward and whispered low, ¡°That¡¯s for getting a kiss before I did.¡±

    ¡°First, my lady does that fit for winning your honor back?¡± Damon asked looking at Cariline with dramatized dignity, who shook her head. He sighed and continued in mock regret, ¡°Then I accept Sir Dimwit. I will, with a heart heavy with sympathy, do battle with you. Though, fighting simpletons who tire in battle quickly is of no challenge. What shall it be this time, jousting with mops? Or maybe a pint at ten paces? Perchance we might even be daring and see who can stand closest to old-timer Ron? I hear this is his off year for a bath.¡± Damon said the last pointing towards the corner where an older man sat by himself. He was dirty and caked with grime. People gave the man a wide berth, usually using their sleeves as they walked by.

    ¡°Nay fine sir, If we use pints, then we shall surely use mops! For the liege of this fine land does like his cleanliness. If we use mops first, then he shall look to profit off our tourney and turn it to peasant laboring. And I be a peasant not!¡± Faldo looked down his nose in disdain at the nearest person comically. This brought a round of laughter from those who were watching nearby, ¡°I dare not go near the old-timer, for he is worst than that of a dragon and his stench is worse than any of your offense.¡± Faldo pondered for a moment, ¡° A wager perchance?¡±

    Damon¡¯s black eyes glowed with excitement. He loved nothing more than a good wager, ¡°A wager, name the stake.¡±

    ¡°If you win, I shall apologize to you in front of all these good peasants for the remarks I have made and never again question the report of the less than adequate size of your weapons kept on your persons. I shall also apologize to the fair lady for her offense. If I win you buy me two rounds and while I enjoy those two consecutive rounds you will show everyone the grandness of your weapons rack.¡±

    ¡°I only add this sir, if you lose you pay me double what it cost for your rounds.¡± Damon added, ¡°A recompense for your insulting wit.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Faldo said, ¡°Now the wager, We throw three throws, each one in turn. The best of three wins. Should any knife fall from the target, it no longer counts.¡±

    ¡°Done, gentlemen to the knives!¡± Damon exclaimed to the crowd that had started to gather. He enthusiastically cleared people and items from the wall that had the target he had convinced Phil to put up two years back. Damon couldn¡¯t turn down a good wager, that was what the small youth loved about his chosen line of work. Damon wagered his wit against the law that he was better than the guard and he usually was. The small youth walked around politely asking the few lingering patrons in harm''s way to move and watch the entertainment. Not that he cared if someone got stuck with a stray knife because they could not recognize a throwing contest, but Philian tended to be a little more cooperative if his patrons didn¡¯t get stuck.

    Damon backed up to the white line that was at fifteen paces and drew his knife. He eyed center of the target and pivoted his body forward with a fluid motion flicking the teak handled throwing knife into the target, just touching the bullseye. He turned to Faldo with a little smirk and wink

    ¡°Good sir, I have drawn blood methinks. I can accept surrender now if it is in your heart.¡± Damon said playfully extending his hand towards the line in an invitation. Faldo, with no less ease than breathing, drew his knife from the brace on his leg and threw it in one motion. It hit right beside Damon''s with such force that the other''s blade jarred loose, falling to the floor with a metallic ring. The spectators gave a yell of enthusiasm.

    ¡°It seems my good sir, that your little knife has seen to much use,¡± Faldo said shaking his head, ¡°Tsk Tsk, ¡¯tis a shame when a man''s knife can¡¯t rise to the occasion. If you be a good enough fellow to take good advice, your blade seems in need of a proper sharpening. I know of a few good lads with an excellent report.¡± He left it off in a suggestion and a shrug. The crowd around jeered at the insinuation. Damon grinned impishly, fingering his next blade and gave it an idle toss towards the target. The knife struck the exact center. The crowd cheered wildly. In the background, you could hear side wagers were starting to be made for and against the outcome of the contest.

    ¡°Sir Dimwit, The size of the blade matters not. For the smallest blade may find its target and bring it to bay. Where even the sharpest, largest blades if never used, shall never conquer.¡± He plucked Faldo¡¯s next knife from his brace, ¡°¡¯Tis a shame, if you bothered to use your blade more you would realize it is falling into disrepair and will soon be worthless.¡± He tossed it back to Faldo, who snatched it out of the air and flipped it towards the target. The quick toss landed outside the center bringing the score to one for one. The bets started coming fast and loud now, the crowd near shouting at one another to be heard.

    Faldo looked at Damon with a huge grin. ¡°Seems our tourney has brought in gambling to our Liege lords lands,¡± he cocked his head at his small friend, ¡°Do you think we have been a bad influence on the peasants?¡±

    ¡°Nay, I say a game of chance warms the blood against the cold. Say you we flip for the honor to go first?¡± Damon asked.

    ¡°No good sir, you would win that one for I am not an acrobat. I say we go by age and beauty. I win on both accounts for I am both the fairest and eldest.¡± He said fluffing his hair. Faldo''s preening elicited a round of laughter from the crowd.

    ¡°Aye you are the fairest, for many of man has asked me for that big blonde wenches hand. Please, by all means, throw first, fairest of damsels.¡± Damon said with mock regret.

    Faldo grinned ruefully, ¡°Prepare thy pig sticker for show and tell good sir.¡± The big man drew his dagger and took a conservative stance, eyeing the target. Cariline eased her way around Damon. She knew Faldo would try to win. They were exactly like brothers and happened to be very competitive. They never missed an opportunity to embarrass one another. One time last week, Damon had snuck into the back bath and stole Faldo¡¯s clothes, making the big man walk home naked. The guard was still teasing the big man about his nude walk and she knew Faldo would be looking for revenge.

    Faldo reached back to throw, and as he started forward, she reached down and goosed his posterior. He let out a yelp, and his throw veered off. Another yelp let out from across the room, and every eye turned and then laughter erupted. Faldo¡¯s knife had pinned poor Phil¡¯s seat of his pants to one of the vertical support beams by the bar.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be keeping this until you do me some of that mopping you were talking about earlier, boy!¡± he said pulling the knife out, bringing the already rowdy crowd to a deafening roar. Faldo was hopping around on one leg, howling like a wounded animal, rubbing the offended cheek. He fell to the dirty floor, writhing.

    ¡°FOUL!¡± Faldo decried from a tangled heap on the floor, ¡°I am mortally wounded and sentenced for a crime of not my DOING!¡±

    Damon had sat on the ground next to screaming Faldo, holding his midsection with laughter. Tears were streaming down his face. He struggled for breath and finally got back to his feet with the help of a few patrons who were slapping him on the back in congratulations. Several dark looks were shooting around the bar also, for foul play had ruined their wager.

    Damon idly tossed his knife landing directly next to his other and turned to Faldo on the floor with his hand out. Faldo reached to his pouch and drew out the copper that he owed his small friend, still muttering under his breath. He got up rubbing his bruised cheek. Damon decided to try to massage his bruised pride too. He went over to Phil, who was trying to fix the hole in his pants and paid for two rounds of ale. He brought them over and gave them both to Faldo, who looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Damon cracked a grin.

    ¡° You are mortally wounded, remember,¡± he said with a chuckle, ¡°I thought it was a tradition to bring those on their death bed gifts.¡±

    ¡°So it is, so it is,¡± Faldo said licking his lips.

 Chapter Four

    Herbert sat at the bar still chuckling at the antics that the two young friends had put on. They were closer than friends, they were brothers and they would do anything for one another. He and Phil had been talking about the two since Phil got back over to the bar after getting the knife out of his pants. Phil might act foul-tempered towards them but he cared for the big one but for some reason the dark-haired youth he wouldn¡¯t mind seeing in the gallows.

    Herbert had known Phil for three years now, two of those years he had been close friends with him. The man had a heart of solid gold. When the Temple changed The Grim¡¯s law and for the first time in known history, allowed ownership of people, Philian took in that slave. He treated that then fifteen winters girl not as property but as a person. Phil did not believe the Temple had the right to change something laid down by Grim himself. Herbert himself did not put much stock in the fantasy of the Grim. He maintained the theory that the Grim was just a sorcerer from two centuries ago, who gained a following but their theological differences did not get in the way of their relationship.

    When the Matron decided to start buying people like animals, Herbert had decided enough was enough. He had sold his house to the Matron for a nice profit, bought what he needed for his family to survive, and moved to the Eastern Expanse. Herbert did not go as far as some into the wilderness. He had two girls, one a nine winters dark-haired beauty and the other bubbly brown-haired bundle of five. He wanted to still be close enough to get back to civilization once a week for necessities. Phil always had a place for him to overnight and then continue his journey home. While taking his respite, he took the opportunity to check in on Cariline. She even came to start calling him Uncle Herbert.

    Phil was still glowering, standing behind that oaken bar in his loincloth, trying to sow his cut pants where the knife had narrowly missed his meaty thigh. He was muttering to himself, eyeballing the mop and a stack of mugs.

    ¡°I ought to add the mug cleaning on top of it I should.¡± He complained darkly.

    ¡°You ain¡¯t still complaining about what them two young lads did, are you?¡± Herbert asked his rotund friend.

    ¡°I shan¡¯t let them in tomorrow, that will teach them. Or I will let in those two jesters. In dresses as barmaids!¡± The keeper huffed.

    ¡°You do that, and I might have to stay. I think the blonde one would make a fine wench.¡± Herbert said thoughtfully, humor gleaming in his hazel eyes, ¡°You know in all seriousness, with the crowd they gathered, you need to hire them a few nights a week as entertainment.¡±

    Philian¡¯s eyes bulged out of his head, opening wider than they had in a decade.

    ¡°NO!,¡± he exclaimed loud enough to draw the stairs of a few patrons sitting nearby, ¡°I won¡¯t have a tavern left before the weeks out.¡± Then Phil thought for a few moments on his friend''s suggestion, ¡° But you know the suggestion for entertainment does have merit. Business has been down with all the damnable taxes. Maybe liven up the place will eventually draw in people in the long run.¡±

    ¡°In the Federation, almost every tavern has some sort of entertainment in it. That is part of the draw over going to a regular inn my friend, besides the wenches.¡± Herbert said with a wink. A yelp let out from across the room by the back fireplace. Through the crowd of people that gathered, they saw Damon on one knee, putting a ring on the young woman¡¯s finger. She was giving little jumps up and down, with each hop she let out another little squeak. It was making the youth''s job all the harder, but he finally got the ring on the finger and stood. She jumped and wrapped her legs around his midsection kissing him exuberantly on the lips.

    ¡°If she doesn¡¯t lighten up and let the boy come up for air, she will smother the poor lad.¡± Herbert said with a small chuckle, ¡°But then, I could think of worse ways to die.¡±

    ¡°The time for smothering that snake was long ago,¡± Philian muttered darkly with a sidelong look at the display going on by the fireplace.

    ¡°Hey friend, lighten up, as long as they are in love. It¡¯s what matters is it not?¡± He footed the question to his big friend.

    Philian shook his head, ¡°Tell that to his mother, Bethel. Rascus and her were in love and had that snake. Then Bethel had to turn Rascus into a reaper because he, like his son, is black as night.¡±

    ¡°Just give the boy a chance. Sins of the father and all that.¡± Herbert said disapprovingly with a slightly furrowed brow.

    ¡°You don¡¯t get it he is the rea-,¡± Phil was cut off by a skipping Cariline who came through the crowd to show her guardian and her Uncle what she had. She positively glowed with a diamond on her neck and her finger. The set cost more than most in Tharpe would ever see in a lifetime, and it marked Cariline as an important woman.

    ¡°Phil, I do believe by law Damon needs to discuss some terms with you.¡± she said giving him a kiss on the cheek, ¡°Please Phil, just the cost he will pay to set me free will be dowry enough to save you a fortune.¡± Phil looked at her with sorrow in his eyes. He wanted to tell her no but could not. She carried Damon¡¯s child, and the arrangements Damon had made with Phil had been precise. If Damon proposed, Phil would release ownership. He nodded his ascent reluctantly and left the bar to haggle with Damon, at least he might make a few silver from the little thief.

    Herbert turned to the glowing woman, who was giddy with joy. She was accepting congratulations from people all around. He reached up and tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention. She turned and favored him with a bright white smile.

    ¡°Well my dear girl,¡± he said, ¡°it looks soon enough you shall be a proper woman of some imports around here.¡±

    ¡°Oh Uncle Herbert, I am ready to be done with that damn Temple,¡± she said with longing, ¡°I want to move to the Federation, maybe the Expanse. Anywhere we can be that doesn¡¯t have the rule of the Temple.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to live in the Expanse girl,¡± Herbert said, ¡°If I weren¡¯t a wanted man back in Valor then I would tail it back there. It is a hard life out in the Expanse away from everyone else. You have no one to depend on but yourself. A man can¡¯t be a master of all trades, doll.¡±

    ¡°It still has to be better than living next to the tyrant,¡± her voice filled with strong emotion, then she let out an exasperated sigh, ¡°Oh no, I just realized that tyrant would be my mother-in-law.¡±

    ¡°Well lass, all that can¡¯t be helped must be endured, even demons.¡± He said placing a comforting hand around her shoulder and kissing her on top of her head, ¡°Let me see that beautiful ring.¡± Cariline held her hand out for him to see, he took her fingers and held it closer for inspection. The ring was made from silver and gold carefully intertwined in a masterful weave with a finely cut diamond. He kissed her hand and smiled at her.

    ¡°Congratulation girl, my hope is he is worthy of my lovely niece,¡± Herbert said with a voice filled with love, ¡°Now, do me a favor and keep our mutual friend Phil from offing your man before the wedding date.--¡± He winked at her. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a silver and a few coppers and then handed her his empty mug. ¡°--Fill that for me will you Cariline,¡± He said smiling, ¡°The silver is for the happy new couple as a wedding present and a hope of a bright, wonderful future.¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± She hugged him again and then turned back to him, ¡°by the way Uncle, please take a bath. There is one hot in the back.¡±

    She pointed towards the door that exited towards the back with her nose pinched. He laughed merely. He got up from his seat and started for the door. He had wanted to talk to Phil and Cariline first, but now it was time to lose his fragrance.

    ¡°Alrighty girl, but when I get back, I want my ale¡± he threw over his shoulder.

    From across the room, Damon had watched the exchange, his good mood fading. He didn¡¯t value to many people as family. His mother, he would tolerate. Though after tonight, he owed her nothing. His debt with her was discharged by giving her the gift of her life. Then there was Faldo, his soul brother. He was one of the very few he loved and trusted. For Faldo, he would do anything. There was no tab between the two of them; they did without thought of return. Philian was in the small family of trust, though his usefulness was slowly coming to an end where he would need to end his relationship with him and then there was his Cariline. She was his Cariline, only those who were in his family were allowed to have any intimate contact with her, and that big, hairy, stinking ape had kissed her several times.

    Oh, he knew that man. He was a regular here, and she even called him Uncle but that didn¡¯t earn that ape the right to lay his lips on his woman. Damon had watched in disgust as she put her lips in return on his hairy cheek. At least she recognized that that pig needed a bath. Cariline sent him off to the back. Damon thought he saw the older man reach out and feel her as she turned. Damon clenched and unclenched his hands as he seethed.

    The small man wondered if his father''s spirit was with him tonight. Nobody but Marlin the blacksmith, his mother¡¯s latest toy, knew he could talk with his father¡¯s ghost. The giant had just looked worriedly at the younger boy at the time and turned to walk away in silence. Damon had never told his mother for fear that there was some exotic rite to excise the evil from him. He didn¡¯t want it gone. The insight that his father gave him in the times that he did speak had meant life and death or might indicate a fortune lost if he didn¡¯t listen.

    He reached out trying to feel the presence of his father with his mind and whispered to his father as if praying. He was not spiritual but asking of his father was as close as he would get.

    ¡°Father,¡± he whispered fervently, never taking his eyes off his soon to be as she waded around the room, ¡°Please deem me worthy tonight to speak to me, I need spiritual wisdom and insight. Is my Lady being true to me and keeping herself clean or is it as my mother has put it that other bulls are rutting her around? Do I kill her and Phil for the pain I would feel? Please answer me.¡±

    He would be highly disappointed in Philian if the tavern keeper followed the Matron¡¯s orders by renting Cariline out to the highest bidder. Damon had been paying Phil handsomely, more than the man could make from this lousy tavern yearly, to keep her pure. Damon even dropped what he charged for smuggling in the hard liquor for the big man so Phil could make a substantial profit on it. Damon wanted everyone to know that if you did exactly what Damon said, you would be rewarded far and above your dreams. But if Philian had failed and succumbed to the idea of double-dipping, then Damon would slowly cut small pieces off of him. He would leave them everywhere for the guard to find so that people would know the price of failure.

    A mug thumped hard in front of him, making the ale slosh onto his lap and it startled him out of his dark thoughts. His heart leaped out of his throat as he instinctively reached for his knife before he calmed himself. Faldo¡¯s deep chuckle came from beside him as he took the seat to his right in the booth.

    ¡°Demon¡¯s teeth Fal, you almost solved my deepest mystery!¡± He said testily.

    ¡°Oh, I forgot you are the son of the Mother Matron. They don¡¯t like to do ¡®the talk¡¯. Well, how ¡¯bout I get Aliesa away from her current client and we can give an educational class, just so you are ready for your wedding night.¡± He jested, ¡°My treat.¡±

    Faldo pushed the tankard directly in front of Damon in one of the signals they had developed to let the other know that someone was watching them. Damon himself did not drink, alcohol dulled reflexes and loosened your tongue. He never wanted to be in that state but from time to time, he had used spirits to meet his ends. He had got merchants dead drunk while only taking sips so as to find their destination. He had also feigned drunkenness to make others think he was a sot.

    He picked up the mug of thick brown liquid and took a drink of the bitter spirits and tapped at the table with his left hand in askance. At the same time, he struck upon the conversation Faldo started.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how well my future would be with Cariline if she caught me involved in that kind of scientific demonstration. It wouldn¡¯t be worth it, no matter how much it broadened my perspective.¡± Damon said with a sigh.

    Faldo chuckled with mirth but flicked his eyes off to the right. Damon followed the gaze and saw Sergeant Thomas sitting at the bar, trying to look casual. He was failing miserably, considering guard did not show up in armor, armed with weapons. Damon swore under his breath. He knew chastisement from his mother was planned to get underway and there were several on the guard, Thomas chief among them, who had been waiting for the ban on him to be lifted. He sipped on his mug and leaned forward slightly so as not to be overheard by anyone.

    ¡°Faldo, something happened earlier today that isn¡¯t going to give me much time, so please listen carefully.¡± He waited for Faldo to nod his acceptance laughing like he just told a joke, ¡° Good Sergeant Thomas over there is here to arrest me for something that has nothing to do with our business. Keep up with the accounts.---¡± He handed his pouch under the table to his best friend, who took it quickly and secreted under his shirt, then Damon continued, ¡°---Take that and use it for my bail, I want to be out as soon as possible. That old man over there at the bar has been too friendly with my Cariline, could you please find out where he lives. I think he requires some reminders of civility.¡±

    Faldo gave a small groan and nodded glumly as the door opened to admit two squads of soldiers who were led by the second-in-command of the guard, Corporal Wallace. Sergeant Thomas got to his feet and crossed the room to walk with the soldiers to Damon¡¯s table.

    ¡°My, my, so what do I have the pleasure to greet both the head of the West Garrison and its more competent second-in-command. Mother really must be furious with me.¡± He said jokingly, ¡°Do either of you two fine gentlemen have the switch handy so I may get this over with.¡±

    Thomas''s stormy look thundered that if were allowed, the Sergeant would run Damon through here and now. The guard spread to form a ring around the table. The red-faced Sergeant spoke to Faldo in ominous tones, without ever breaking eye contact with Damon.

    ¡°Faldo, my old friend, we have known each other for a long time. Will you please remove yourself from the table for your safety, please?¡± He asked in almost pleading, dark tones. From the strangled words, it was all the Sergeant could do to restrain himself in Damon''s presence.

    Faldo looked at Damon, who nodded wearily and mouthed Cariline to him. Faldo nodded and got up to walk to his brother¡¯s betrothed and one he looked at as a sister. Cariline looked on at the scene with tears in her eyes. She had Faldo on one side and Aliesa on the other each trying to console her. The crowd gathered at building drama. The scene attracting on-lookers, just like wolves were drawn to fear. Thomas slipped a metal gauntlet on his right hand as he began to speak. The soldiers tightened their ranks to prevent the youth from escaping.

    ¡°Damon, son of Rascus--¡± Sergeant Thomas began. By naming his damned father in the genealogy, the Matron Mother was letting all know she had disowned her son, that he was no longer the Temple¡¯s responsibility. Damon swallowed hard, for the first time feeling fear in his chest, ¡°--you are hereby arrested on twenty-two accounts of burglary, thirty-seven accounts of assault, five accounts of murder, an unnamed number accounts of extortion, and the most grievous account of all, striking the most beloved of The Grim.¡±

    Thomas raised the steel-clad first and brought it down across Damon¡¯s face with a sickening crunch, slamming him back into the back of the booth where he sat. Thomas stepped back and motioned to the guard with a bloody steel hand to drag the unconscious youth out to the floor. From somewhere behind them came a females wail of despair.

 Chapter Five

    The horrifying sight continued to unfold before the crowded tavern as the guard beat the unconscious form on the floor with enthusiasm. The blood started to flow out onto the plank floor staining it a dark red, and finally, Thomas called a halt. The Sergeant callously commanded that the battered form be drug from the room leaving a trail a smeared gore in the wake. Cariline and Faldo wept openly at what the events that just unfolded before their eyes. The big man cast the portly barkeep a questioning look as Faldo held the sobbing girl in his big arms. Phil just gave him an indifferent shrug saying it wasn¡¯t him, but it didn¡¯t hurt his feelings one bit either.

    Faldo did not doubt that Philian would probably drink a few in celebration tonight at the demise of the one that the Inn Keep saw as public enemy number one and Phil was already trying to get the mess cleaned up as if nothing had happened. Aliesa was on her hands and knees, her tears mixing with the soap, water, and blood. For a long time, the sound of women sobbing, sloshing water, and the crackling of the fire was all that could be heard. Slowly, the conversation started to pick back up here and there in the quiet tavern, but all anyone could talk about were the events that had happened tonight. Men looked at one another, each asking the same question, was anyone safe now from the Matron¡¯s power if her son was not.

    Faldo knew he had to do something. Simple bail would not get Damon out of the Matron''s grasp this time. He had few he could actually trust and fewer still that wanted to see Damon back on the street. The big man rocked Cariline back and forth trying in vain to get the young woman''s hysteria to calm down. Her wailing echoed the song of his soul as he was barely keeping it from flying apart. There was one person he knew that had the Matron¡¯s ear and that one person happened to look on Damon as a son. If anyone could help, the giant of a blacksmith Marlin could if he did not view it as interfering with Grim¡¯s plans that is.

    ¡°Cariline shush now,¡± he said soothingly.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me to shush Faldo. They killed him right here in front of us.¡± She wailed, burying her face into his broad chest. He pulled her away from his chest to look into her green eyes and spoke in slow serious tones.

    ¡°No, they didn¡¯t, not even that bitch can get away with murder in front of the masses. He was still breathing when he left. Do you understand.--¡± He asked. She nodded with a sob being held back behind a tear-streaked face. ¡°--Now, we need to think of how we are going to save him. We need to find out just how serious the Matron is on these charges, We need to know whether or not Bethel will hang him,¡± he said and looked at Phil, ¡°Can I take her with me to Marlin¡¯s?¡±

    ¡°Aye, She won¡¯t be any use to me tonight son, be careful. Remember your life is worth more than his.¡± Phil said with a sad shake of his head. Faldo snorted with disgust as he walked to the coat rack, ripping his own thick, rich satin cloak in frustration, to drape it gently around Cariline¡¯s shoulders. That man wouldn¡¯t understand loyalty and friendship if it struck him between the eyes, Faldo thought.

    Cariline¡¯s eyes had grown distant, and she seemed to be wandering in a dream world as they stepped out into the cold winter¡¯s night. Faldo had words on his lips but let them fall into silence as he glanced worriedly at his friend''s fiancee. The streetlamps cast dim flickering shadows on the walls around that looked like shadow plays of the underworld as told by actors in the festivals during the summers. They walked down the street and Faldo guided the stumbling Cariline by the arm. He was afraid she had slipped into melancholy, a terrible condition his aunt had fallen into after her husband had died on Lake Dim in a storm. He had to snap her out of it.

    Faldo contemplated several different plans but none seemed good enough to deliver the shock necessary to bring back the numbed senses. There had been no snow and throwing her into the water would attract too much attention, especially on a night when he was planning possible treason. That would leave the big man one course of action. Faldo steeled himself for it, every nerve in his body screaming at him to stop.

    ¡°Damon my friend,¡± he whispered, ¡°forgive me¡± He twirled her around and slammed her into a wall in a nearby alley. Sometimes another sudden shock can jolt someone out of melancholy or so a healer told his father when he was younger.

    She hit the wall, her head snapped back to thud against the stone and she gave a little startled yelp and cried out, ¡°Damon I need you, some ruffian has me, Damon.¡±

    ¡°Dammit Cariline, It is me, Faldo. Damon needs you right now, so snap out of it. We need to get some information to find out what the Matron is planning.¡± He looked into her green eyes as he saw them focus on him finally. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed on his shoulder, then drew back as her auburn hair blew in the cold winter wind.

    ¡°Oh Faldo, I knew he was into trouble but is he really that bad?¡± She asked, another deep sob wracking her chest as she leaned against the cobblestone wall.

    ¡°Actually, I think they missed a few thefts in the past year but no matter. Damon''s crimes are nothing compared to what Bethel has done." Faldo clenched his big fist at his side in anger and frustration, ¡°That woman has committed more extortion and theft than me and Damon combined. Not to mention one or two murders, just for her convenience. I don¡¯t hold to religion Cariline. In fact, the only thing I am religious about is not being religious. But I do believe if you preach it, you should live it. So in my book, that woman needs to answer for the most grievous crime of all.¡±

    ¡°And what is that?¡± Cariline looked at the big man confused,

    ¡°Hypocrisy¡±

    He grabbed Cariline¡¯s hand and headed back out into the windy streets, looking at the faces of each guard they passed. Sometimes it elicited suspicious looks from the person being inspected and sometimes amused looks were in the eyes of the men. After the first few, Cariline tapped him on the shoulder. He just slapped her hand away as he continued his search, so she spun him around.

    ¡°What?¡± He asked irritated as he continued to the next guard he found. Faldo let a few oaths slide of his tongue as he walked off from the sentry,

    ¡°What are you doing. These are just the people that beat poor Damon to a pulp, and now you¡¯re inspecting their nose hairs?¡± She questioned him back just as irritated. Cariline was more irritated at the fact Faldo had chosen to ignore her more than she was at the point he was infatuated with the city guard. With that, she was brimming with curiosity as to why they need the Matron''s own soldiers.

    ¡°I am looking for the ones on my payroll.¡± He said shortly as he continued on looking at the guards they encountered. She clubbed him across his back with her fist, making the big man stumble to the side in surprise and quite nearly shouted at him.

    ¡°You have part of our guard on your payroll, Ho¡ª¡° the rest was muffled by his hand as he pulled her into the nearest ally. He gave a yelp of pain and let go of her mouth and shook his hand.

    ¡°You bit me!¡± He accused her with his finger waggling at her nose.

    ¡°Don¡¯t put your hand where it doesn¡¯t belong. Now, just how many do you pay?¡± She asked as she pushed his finger away.

    ¡°Around twenty and it seems the Mother Matron has pulled all of them off the streets tonight. I guess she thought they might not be so loyal to her when she was arresting the ones who were paying them three times what she does.--¡± This admission got him another slap and this time across the ear. ¡°--Would you stop slapping me!¡± He said heatedly rubbing his stinging ear. The cold made the stinging worse.

    ¡°Oh, I am just trying to exorcise the criminal out of the good man that I know lies underneath.¡± She said sweetly and slapped him again.

    He glared at her taking her hand warily and led her down the alley the rest of the way to Marlin¡¯s Blacksmithy. The giant smith¡¯s sprawling, one-story shop came into view. Even at this late of an hour, smoke billowed from one of the two chimneys that protruded from the roof. Faldo rapped on the door and called the big smith by name. A disgruntled reply came from within, and a peep-hole opened and closed. Faldo heard two bolts slide open and the big smith¡¯s shaved head, which towered over even the big Faldo by another head, stuck out and gave a nod of acknowledgment.

    ¡°So she did go ahead with it and arrest him,¡± Marlin let out an emotion-filled sigh, looking crestfallen, ¡°Well, there is no help for him now, come in so we can talk safely.¡±

    Cariline, who had regained her color after the incident in the alley, started to shake and tremble again at the mention of Damon¡¯s predicament. Her complexion paled once more as her composure failed again.

    ¡°Easy Cariline.¡± Faldo said softly as he guided her into the warm interior, ¡°Remember the reason we are here is to fix this travesty.¡±

    Marlin¡¯s business was divided between two parts. The front was his smithy were the giant worked his trade by day. The back was his home and between the two was a wall that shared a common fireplace. Marlin must have been expecting them. A pot of heating water sat over the fire, and a keg sat tapped and ready in the corner.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Marlin motioned for them to sit at a plain, sturdily built table that had just three chairs and went to a sideboard to fetch three mugs and a pouch. He set one cup on the table aside, momentarily forgotten and filled the other two from the waiting cask of deep, brown frothy ale. In the third forgotten mug, the giant gingerly added a health pinch, with his big fingertips, of the mixture from inside the pouch. He moved with gracious ease, for a man of his size, to the fireplace to retrieve the steaming kettle and doused the mug, filling the room with a sweet aroma. That aroma was relaxing, easing the tension off of Faldo in slow waves. The smith pushed the mug towards the shaking Cariline with a massive paw the encompassed the mug and looked at her with gentle eyes.

    ¡°Here girl drink up,¡± the smith said in his rough voice, ¡°It will make you feel better. Maybe even a bit more relaxed.¡± The shaky Cariline took the cup in both hands and blew on it to cool it and sipped at it slowly. Marlin turned to Faldo, leaving Cariline to sip gingerly at her tea.

    ¡°Son, you might have to carry her home.¡± He said in a low voice, jerking a thumb at Cariline, ¡°That ain¡¯t exactly all herbal. It has milk of the poppy extract in it too. She looks pretty shook up.¡±

    Faldo smiled knowingly at Marlin, shaking his head sending his blonde hair tossing slightly. ¡°You old devious dog. Isn¡¯t that a little illegal? In fact, I think I know my father is just about the only one who will um, supply it here.¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± the Smith said with a little smile, ¡°Some laws are just plain dumb and if it¡¯s not Grim¡¯s law, but man¡¯s, my conscience is clear. So, I know why you are here but what I do not know if what you need from me?¡±

    ¡°Marlin, we need your help,¡± Faldo began, ¡°We both know this is about a mother/son squabble and nothing about the Temple or the Grim or anything remotely about the damnable law. She has sheltered him from the authorities for this long, why now? It just doesn¡¯t make sense. I know he said he struck her but really an execution?¡±

    ¡°Yes Faldo,¡± He nodded his big balding head, ¡°it is their fight. I love Bethel with all my heart. She came to me tonight after she saw the healer and by the Grim, she was angry. The way she talked about the boy, she had already convinced herself he was dead. This arrest is not merely a public shaming. She is after blood and she does mean to go through with it. I love the dirty little rat as I loved my dear little girl I lost.¡±

    Faldo¡¯s heart fell as he put his head into his hands to think. Marlin would be right about the Matron but could he be convinced to move against her. The gentle giant was known for his reverence of the Grim, almost to martyrdom several times in recent history. The giant had taken beatings for the Temple when he had defended the actions taken. He refused to raise a hand in his own defense, afraid it would set the wrong image. His thoughts were interrupted by the smacking of lips, and he looked up to see Cariline trying to lick the inside of the cup.

    ¡°I seem to have run out of tea Marlin,¡± she said, weaving a little side to side. Cariline''s green eyes were slightly out of focus as she searched for Marlin''s face. ¡°Mind giving me a spot more, please?¡±

    ¡°No dearie, I think you drank my last,¡± he lied blatantly, covering the pouch with his massive hand.

    ¡°Oh drat, you will have to tell me where you get it from.¡±

    ¡°We will exchange information in the morning hun. Now, why don¡¯t we try to figure out Damon¡¯s mess.¡± Marlin suggested pointedly.

    ¡°Oh, whatever you say is fine with me. Maybe we should offer Bethel a spot of some of this delicious tea? I think it would go over well.¡± She said dreamily as her eyes slowly closed.

    ¡°I might have given her a little too much of a dose,¡± the smith looked thoughtfully at the smiling young woman who was nodding off in the chair across the table.

    ¡°Marlin when she came to you, did she say when she was holding the trial?¡± Faldo asked, a plan starting to form in his head.

    ¡°Why, in the morning. From what I heard Bethel was going to have done to her son, Damon wouldn¡¯t be in any shape to be put through a trial tonight.¡± Marlin answered, his deep bass full of sorrow.

    ¡°He wasn''t, I was there. So if we have until morning...Can we trust you or do you want us to leave you out of it. I can leave if you want me to.¡± Faldo said. He didn¡¯t want to put Marlin in a compromising position. Faldo knew how much the giant cared for Bethel. They had been lovers for twelve years. The two had met two years before Bethel had lynched Rascus and murdered the old Matron Suz. It was widely speculated that Marlin was the tipping point for her into the darkness of greed. After which had begun the longest organized criminal activity in the history of the East.

    ¡°Faldo, I follow Grim¡¯s law before anyone. Grim served justice on Rascus by turning him reaper after he murdered my little girl in front of me. I swore to be a devote follower after that. That is the first reason; Bethel is not fulfilling her role as a wife of Grim currently. She is abusing the people she is sworn to shepherd.¡± Marlin took in a shuttering breath as his eyes teared up as he steeled himself for the next part. ¡°Number two is Damon is the closest thing to a child I have, and I will not stand by and see him go to the gallows after he was pardoned for the crimes for which he is now being tried for. As my son, it is my sworn duty to protect him. I will not fail another of my children.¡±

    ¡°What about the last charge that Bethel has leveled?¡± Faldo forwarded the question to the smith.

    ¡°That is a matter between mother and son, not for the Temple. No Faldo, she is wrong in this one. I will help you. If she will not claim Damon as a child than I am the only parent he has left.¡± Marlin said.

    ¡°Good, How many people do you know that hate, Damon?¡± Faldo asked with a devious smile.

    Marlin¡¯s eyes lit up and twinkled, ¡°Oh, a whole city full why?¡±

    Damon woke with pain lancing through his head and his ribs, the hard stones were jabbing against his naked, broken body. It felt like they had stripped him of every useful piece of clothing, leaving him in only his ragged loincloth. The young man lay still, feigning unconsciousness. Sometimes it could be helpful in gaining information.

    He did a self-assessment for injury. He had shattered some molars on the right side was the gauntlet had hit him, and the eye on that side was swollen shut. Damon felt like he might have a few broken ribs but other than that surprisingly, he was in decent shape. His mother needed to send these guys to some proper thug classes to learn how to hand a proper beating. Maybe, once this is through, Damon might even offer to find some brutes for her. These ¡°guards¡± were pathetic and a joke.

    From what he could hear, the nearest person was the guard down the hall, so he was clear to move. He took in a deep breath against the pain he knew would stab and drew himself up. The damage wasn¡¯t near as bad as he thought, but it still made him wince. He opened his one unimpaired eye to examine the manacles on his wrist, and he slowly shook his head. His mother was deadly serious, the cuffs on his wrist were riveted ones of the condemned that were never meant to come off, not even after death. But from the cell, he was in said he had not yet been to trial. He was still in a general cell, though all the general population had been relocated out of his cage. He was sure that was for their safety, of course. Damon shook his head in amusement, at least that meant he demanded respect.

    Over across the way, the lower rank guards were playing dice for his old belongings. He groaned as he saw his expensive hunting boots adorning the feet of a private. They were probably worth more then what the soldier would make in the next year.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Came a familiar voice from the darkness, ¡°You won¡¯t be needing them cousin. My aunt will make sure of that.¡± A figure started walking forward toward the torchlight. Slowly Thomas''s stern face came into view. His dark hair cropped close to the skull as was common with the soldiers and unlike most, he kept his face clean shaved. Thomas''s eyes bored hatefully into his cousin. He thoroughly enjoyed the sight of Damon in chains and bound for the gallows.

    ¡°Yes, I am sure she will,¡± Damon answered back, his voice cutting through the darkness between them. He made sure to speak loud enough to garner the attention of the nearby dicing soldiers. They paused for momentarily and then continued to play quieter. ¡°I am not surprised she sent here favorite lap dog out after me. Did you make sure that my dear old mother wasn¡¯t so lonely before you came and got me? I hear she is still quite spry but running a bit low on energy these days. Happens in old age.¡± Thomas came forward quickly as Damon took a couple of steps back.

    ¡°Touchy, Touchy, cousin.¡± Damon scolded playfully, still speaking loudly. This elicited quiet laughter from the nearby guards. ¡°Some men just have to get it were they can, even if it is within the family.¡±

    ¡°It is a good thing you will hang in three days, you little bastard.--¡± Thomas said violently striking through the bars, ¡°--If I could kill you now, I would. Grim knows I have wanted to after the night I found you for raping Cariline in my bed.¡± He turned to walk away from the cage a little, flexing his fingers with his back to Damon. Damon quietly walked forward talking all the time.

    ¡°I have been through this a dozen times cousin--¡± he said as he moved his loincloth to the side and aimed at the back of his cousin''s boots and started to piss, ¡°--She just said she needed a horse to ride, not a terrier.¡±

    Thomas turned around to move forward quickly again and found himself running straight into a stream of Damon¡¯s urine. Thomas froze with rage and Damon finished up with a malicious smile and backed up.

    ¡°I thought you could stand to see the comparison and you definitely needed the shower,¡± he said with a wave of his hand in front of his nose. There was raucous laughter coming from the watching guards who had stopped dicing to watch the ongoing spectacle between the cousins. Damon shot them a knowing smile and then winked at his cousin while Thomas quivered with rage. Damon knew his cousin was ever the brawler and bully and was hoping to anger him to the point Thomas would open the door.

    ¡°This won¡¯t work you little asshole,¡± Thomas said visibly struggling to control himself. He gave a shrill whistle to the watching guards, ¡° Let¡¯s take this little bitch before the Matron.¡±

    With that, the soldiers who were watching got up and came to stand by the cell. Thomas grabbed the keys off his belt and unlocked the door and then said ¡°Oh, by the way, your lovely betrothed was seen with that big lout Faldo, getting poked. I hope you don¡¯t mind if I take my turn too.¡±

    The last words came out with some lingering lude insinuation attached, and Damon¡¯s face went dark and then murderous. Thomas let go of the door and stood to the side waiting. Damon rushed the door slamming it open into a guard, who fell into a crumpled heap with a groan and went to reach for Thomas. Before he could a huge private hit him over the head from behind. Damon collapsed at Thomas¡¯s feet as the Sergeant was reaching to his side for his sword.

    ¡°Dammit Salvo,¡± Thomas yelled ¡°The moment he reached for me to attack, by law, I could kill the little bastard. I have been waiting for years to do that.¡±

    The big soldier just gave an indifferent shrug and grabbed the little prisoner around the waist and threw him over his shoulder. Thomas sighed in regret, ¡° Alright let¡¯s do this.¡±

    They formed up ranks around Salvo with Sergeant Thomas in the lead. The Sergeant had sent runners across the city, to all four corners and the outlying, as far as they could get in the twelve hours since the arrest, to let them know the notorious criminal known as Damon had finally been arrested and would be tried for his crimes at long last.

 Chapter Six

    As they left the West Tower where all the prisoners in the Tharpe district were kept and started down the street known as Judgment Way, named such for the mythical road that led to the seat of Grim in the Underworld. The cobbled street was packed by people who wanted to verify that the young man who had terrorized the countryside for years was truly going to the Temple. Too long had the Mother Matron¡¯s bastard son been sheltered from the law, now all wanted to see at least one in that damned line dead.

    So many people were packed in that the eight guards had to go in a single file line instead of the typical honor guard formation. It was not unusual for criminals to get escorted down Judgment Way, for any crime in the district was brought before the Matron or her second. But this one was one of the most hated in a century. Thomas marched out in front with glorious dreams playing in his head. The Sergeant would be the first officer ever in the East, awarded the highest accommodation for arresting this mad man and bringing him to justice. The young Sergeant was too intoxicated by his ambitions he failed to hear the crowd¡¯s murmurings change from that of approval to one of revenge.

    The townsfolk gathered around, for the most part, had come because they too had a debt to settle with this young man. They now endured the smell of the dockside, of the raw sewage, to catch sight of him and they felt cheated. Why should his mother get to have justice because he hit her? Damon had killed a few of their relatives and others had suffered from gangs that looted and pillaged for him. Why was she allowed revenge for such a small slight and for that matter if such a small slight elicited revenge, why should revenge not be extracted from the one who had been reaping more terror than this youth, the Matron herself? Many in the crowd murmured to the next asking these exact questions and the shouting turned to pushing.

    The first rock came arching in from the edge of the jeering crowd and hit Salvo on the shoulder. The private dropped his unconscious charge, roaring in rage and drew his sword, with the ringing of fine steel, to cover Damon. The young man hit the ground and rolled to his feet startled instinctively and awake, looking around confused. Damon held his hands in front of him with the chains grasped as a flail. His body had came prepared for battle, while his mind grasped the situation.

    Thomas gestured for the woman, a freckled-faced, copper-haired, fury of a woman, to be arrested. One of the corporals walked over and accosted the woman and brought her over, to the boos of the crowd. Damon relaxed him stance shamefaced as he realized what was going on. He looked on with interest at the situation as it unfolded.

    ¡°Miss, you are under arrest for the assault upon one of the guards of the Temple and attempted assault upon one who is to be tried as condemned. Both are punishable by death, but that will be up to the Most Beloved. Please step into line.¡±

    The woman spat on the Sergeant and stepped into line next to Damon who looked at her, his dark eyes dancing with an amused look. The woman returned a gaze filled with venom. Damon gave her a little sarcastic, shy wave.

    ¡°What¡± she shot at Damon.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t I kill your husband?¡± He asked amused, ¡°Because I feel like I should know you from somewhere.¡±

    ¡°His name was Lewis, and I was his betrothed. Your mother of a bitch hung him.¡± She spat back at him. She turned her back angrily on him to end the conversation.

    ¡°Oh? So sad that now she will hang both of us.¡± He said casually, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. The red-head shrieked in anger as she turned to strike him. Damon easily sidestepped the clumsy strike, never losing his smile.

    ¡°Hope you go to the Planes of Chaos, you demon.¡± She yelled at him.

    ¡°My! You are a little moody.¡± He said walking behind her, dodging the now flying rotten vegetables and rocks.

    The crowd was now infuriated at the arrest of a victim of Damon. He was no longer the primary target. The soldiers had arrested one of their own, a person in search of justice. They saw that as just one more gross overstepped of authority and were now throwing what they could find at the whole group. The walk that should have taken only fifteen minutes had now drawn to thirty, and they were only halfway there, just crossing Market Street. Thomas turned to young Corporal Jon directly behind him.

    Thomas had picked the young Corporal for not only his swift feet but also because Jon was recently made a dad. The situation was likely to turn violent and Thomas wanted to get the young man away from the riot and also get the other Garrisons called in.

    ¡°Looks like we have a small problem but with a little show of force, we should be able to head off this mob before it gets any worse. Go have Corporal Wallace request muster of all four Garrisons and seal the gates.¡± Thomas ordered, and then he moved closer to the Corporal, ¡°Son, do hurry things are going to get bloody. I don¡¯t need the others to think it.¡±

    The corporal turned to leave, and Thomas turned drawing steel and pulling his shield off of his back. The rest of the group did the same forming ranks around the prisoners. Thomas looked at Salvo with his sword out and shook his head looking at Damon and his chained feet. Salvo nodded, sheathing his sword and offering his arm to Damon, who hopped upon his shoulders. Thomas raised his booming voice above the crowd to serve the warning he dreaded to give. One that would plunge his group into a full out riot but it could not be helped.

    ¡°By the Order of the Mother Matron and the Power of The Grim, you are to disperse and make way. Anyone who does not after this warning will be held guilty of obstruction of justice against a condemned and will be put to death immediately.--¡± Thomas said in a loud voice as the crowd booed and shouted at him, ¡°--Anyone who draws steel or raises violence against the Guard will be guilty immediately of treason of the highest order and will be cut down where you stand! This is your only warning. Now MAKE WAY!¡±

    The guard drew into a wedge formation, locking their shields together and started down the way, and one of the corporals on the right-wing called a warning as a group rushed in. The Sergeant called out the order, and the wedge shifted as the point broke into the group. Thomas¡¯s sword bit deeply into a woman, splitting her from naval to her breast, her intestines spilling out in front of her wide eyes to the stones below. A sword fell out of her hands, and Thomas¡¯ eyes went wide. This was not a home forged piece but a fine work that was normally found in the hands of a trained warrior.

    ¡°They have weapons,¡± He called the warning to his squad of seven and prepared for a long fight.

    Bethel paced back and forth. She had not slept all night for fear of this day. Today she would condemn her only child to death and then by tradition she would be his executioner. The thought made her shiver. Jen was waiting with her too. There was only ever four people who were present at a judgment: the Mother Matron, The Second, the accused, and a guard. Unlike in the Federation where the King or noble held a public court, open to all, the trial of the accused was between him, the Grim, and the law. There was no room for opinion or option but cut and dry.

    This had aided Bethel in her rain of terror as she covered the tracks of her son. Soon it passed that, her greed had long got the hold on her. Petty insults that should have been ignored were now rewarded with taxes and tithes payable to her. Merchants caught with minor infraction would be punished with draconian practices. Jen had been a long loyal friend. Through it all, she had tried to help and to let her know when things were going too far.

    The accused should have been here twenty minutes ago. The accused, she thought, what am I doing to myself. I have been trying to make myself think of him not as my child, and that is impossible.

    An acolyte came running in the room out of breath with a face white with terror. She collapsed in front of the Mother Matron breathing hard with exertion. Both Jen and Bethel knelt and attended the girl to find out what she was running from. Nothing living could get inside the Temple without express permission from one of the three Necromancers that resided there. There was not a sorcerer that had ever lived with the power to break the Grim-ward, a powerful spell that shielded them from all. But something no terrified on the acolytes to the point of fainting and fear climbed into the backside of Bethel''s mind.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Erica, what is it girl,¡± Bethel demanded, ¡°What has happened.¡±

    ¡°The¡ª the¡ª Guard is¡ª,¡± the girl breathed hard, ¡°guard ¡ªunder¡ªattack..¡± Erica lapsed into unconsciousness as Bethel gave Jen a startled look. Jen shook her head as if to say she didn¡¯t know what was happening and Bethel called out for one of the attending acolytes.

    ¡°Sara!¡± Bethel yelled urgently. If Tharpe was under attack somehow then her son was in danger.

    The young dark-haired teenager came running and looked down startled at Erica and covered her mouth. Bethel rose and slapped her on the backside of her head, tossing her sandy hair forwards.

    ¡°No time for that now girl!¡± Bethel commanded her, ¡°She came to warn us the guard is in trouble. I need to know what guard! GO!¡± The girl took off in a hurried run out the double doors of the Judgment Hall, and Bethel turned to Jen. Her Second got up shaking her head sorrowfully, reached to her side and grabbed the mace that hung there, bringing it to hand. She strode over to take up her position beside the Matron in a protective stance. Bethel looked grimly at Jen. In times of danger, it was the Second¡¯s job to protect the Mother, even if it meant with her life.

    ¡°What happened Jen,¡± asked Bethel worriedly.

    ¡°She is dead, she had an arrow wound,--¡± Jen said pointing under her arm, her voice carefully void of emotion ¡°--She pulled it out before she came here. It had to hit more than she thought.¡±

    ¡°Then right now we are under wartime rules Captain,¡± Bethel said, the fear starting to grow rapidly into her heart. Both Damon and Thomas were in the streets right now. ¡°Let¡¯s go to the gate¡¯s and see what in the Grim¡¯s sweet Underworld is going on!¡± They sprinted out of the Judgment Hall and into the corridor leading to the outside. Necromancer trained physically with the soldiers several times weekly. Each woman studied warfare so they could adequately care for the family that the Grim gave them. They ran down the main hallway and out the front door and they heard the mob getting louder as they went.

    With the Grim-Ward in place, it would allow them time to observe to danger and formulate a defense. It was a gift from their immortal husband that could never be replaced, not by all the armies of the entire Continent of Ratar''. The shield was laid permanently by the All-Father himself when the Portal had been completed.

    That kind of sorcery would be impossible for any mortal to put up permanently. The current necromancers at Tharpe could hold award up like it for three hours before they would die. The entire Sorcerer Council of the Free Cities could cast one that would last a few days before they to would perish. The ward was a blessing indeed and one that would not be cast aside lightly. Each Matron had the power to lower it in times of need when the Temple was needed, but lowering meant breaching it until the Grim could re-establish a link to the underworld to tap the power necessary to sustain it.

    They reached the gate and climbed the stairs to the vantage point that acolytes sat to watch for petitioners and what they saw there was horrifying. The squad of seven men was in a circle formation, fighting towards the wall. They were still a bow shot off, and some were sorely wounded. A few stood by sheer will alone, fear of dying driving them. What they were fighting against was not your typical mob but armed men and women, some even wore light armor. Out in the distance, they heard horns blasting from the four towers, as the Garrisons were being called to full muster.

    Bethel turned to Jen, ¡°We have the closest garrison right here outside the Temple that has not been mustered. It is not under the control of the guard.¡±

    ¡°But that is only twenty-five men Bethel.¡± Jen protested in the horrid realization of her superior''s plan that was taking mishappen shape.

    ¡°It has to be enough at the moment. If we can catch this crowd off balance, we could possibly buy enough time to get the rest of the men here.¡± Bethel said.

    ¡°There have to be at least six scores out there, but you are General,¡± she said in a little sigh of resignation, ¡°Maybe if we tease the flanks, a little with hit and run, we can convince them that two of the Garrisons have made it in?¡±

    ¡°That strategy might work, break it into three. Send your best group to help cut out those seven men and get them to the Temple Gates.¡± Bethel ordered.

    ¡°Matron we don¡¯t have enough time for any introductions,¡± her second reminded her as she was headed back out the stairs.

    ¡°I don¡¯t plan to have any introductions Captain, now get.¡± She ordered. Jen stopped before the stone stairs leading to the courtyard and turned around to trot back to stand before Bethel.

    ¡°Bethel, I have always told you what I think, and I will do so now. Do not lower the Grim-Ward. We are safe right now. Even with all five garrisons here, that would not replace the ward. Let them fortify a tower.¡± Jen respectively warned her superior and friend, waving her handoff into the distant. This attribute was what Bethel appreciated about, her brutal and unadulterated honesty, regardless of the rank that separated them, but now was not the time for it.

    ¡°It is not just the guard. We, the Temple, protect all who need it. They can¡¯t get in with the ward up. Your protest is duly noted, now get that garrison out there.¡± Bethel ordered.

    ¡°Yes General,¡± Jen said dully as she shrugged her shoulders glumly as she turned away.

    Bethel sent out a mental command for any reaper in the area to report to her and shouted for the attending gate acolyte. The girl of thirteen winters showed up first. She was in a panic about the climatic events that were unfolding outside her duty station. Bethel placed a calming hand on her shoulder and spoke softly to her, trying in vain to impose calm on the startled girl.

    ¡°Child I have an important mission for you, do you understand me?--¡± The young girl nodded. ¡°--Good,¡± Bethel continued, ¡°up above the Gate House by way of the stairs in the Judgment Hall is a gong. It is enchanted, no invocation is needed, strike it with your open palm. Keep doing that until you are relieved. The sound will carry over the countryside to warn all of the danger in Tharpe. On your way by the Gate House, stop and send Isobelle here to be my Second. You are relieved of the Gate for now.¡±

    The girl stood, mouth opening and closing repeatedly, as her face paled. Panic once more started to set in and she shook uncontrollably.

    ¡°Is there something the matter girl?¡± The Matron asked losing her patience, her voice gaining an edge of sharpened steel.

    ¡°I am sorry Mother,¡± the young girl stammered, ¡°but I will fail at the assigned duties, for that room is warded against all except necromancers. I am not yet wed to our Master. He and I are not yet one.¡±

    The Matron gave her a stern look and shook her head, speaking in a soft, low voice, her voice cracked with a little fear. ¡° Child, by the time you get there, the Grim-Ward will be lowered, and the Gate House will be unprotected, tell Isobelle we will soon be under attack. Now go, I need her now!¡±

    The girl nodded her acceptance and darted off quickly, her white wedding dress fluttering behind her. All acolytes wore a wedding dress in hopes Grim would choose them, and they would be ready for permanent bonding to their Master at any time. Her whimpering could be heard echoing off the nearby, square granite towers as her steps rang towards the giant doors. A soft whisper came behind her, followed by bones clicking. She turned and saw her husband, Rascus had answered her summons. In all the years that she had hated the punishment of working with him, today she was thankful it was Rascus. He would have less regard for the rules and traditions of the Underworld, making his way to the Throne of Judgment quicker than the other reapers that served her Temple would.

    ¡°I will be with you momentarily,¡± she said shortly. The Matron smiled inwardly as the reaper shook his white skull in aggravation. At least she could make him suffer a little while she was at it. After all, a few more moments would not make much of a difference. Bethel raised her hands and reached out mentally feeling the spell through the web and flow of Power. Sorcery wasn¡¯t real magic; it was just about energy and flow. Right now she had to find the place where The Grim had explicitly placed for the Mother Matron to redirect the power into the Underworld through the Gate House. Like everything else in Order, nothing was wasted, even energy and Chaos couldn¡¯t change that. When the ward was canceled, the energy had to be reabsorbed somewhere. Her body would disintegrate under that much energy. It had to go back to its domain and creator. She found it and channeled the necessary energy to connect the two and the Grim-ward fell.

    The effort of doing such drained her, both physically and mentally. Bethel had never been powerful in sorcery and even in the best of conditions that were a difficult spell for her. Isobelle would barely bat an eye at performing such a feat. She had always had a talent for the arcane. One day, Isobelle would make a fine Matron. Bethel turned to the skeletal reaper who had watched all of this with a small measure of satisfaction.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get too happy Rascus,¡± She said angrily when she saw the reaper looking at her with his head cocked sideways. Reapers had body language that could easily be interpreted when a person associated with them long enough and right now, Rascals was thoroughly enjoying seeing her suffering. Maybe she had erred in casting first and then sending that bag of bones on his way.

    ¡°Never a word did leave my teeth, my love,¡± he said with a small chuckle. The hairs on the back of her neck tingled. Anyone that was unfortunate to hear a reaper laugh would get the same sensation. It was not so unlike a winters wind rattling ice-laden leaves

    ¡°Well don¡¯t stand around. I bind you to the Grim, damn your reaper eyes, I need you to carry a message.¡± She took a step closer to the reaper¡¯s empty eyes. She slowly released the binding spell to snap the reaper''s will from him. Rascus would now have little choice but to go to the Grim. Her old husband would have done so anyways but the bind would ensure there would be little chance of rebellion.

    ¡°Well, it ought to be an interesting message, then love.¡± He said with amusement tinging his rasping, hollow voice.

    ¡°Oh, it will be very amusing here the next few days Rascus, for the Grim-Ward is down. As of now, the Temple may yet fall.¡± She turned to stare out across the bloodied streets of the city of Tharpe and the embattled men therein.

 Chapter Seven

    Cariline paused as they walked around the West Tower looking for the keys for the cells. They could hear the riot outside moving towards the Temple and away from them. She turned to the desk where she was currently looking. The soldier who occupied it was disgusting. Grim and bottles filled with stale smelling ale littered the area. She opened a drawer and recoiled in horror. Oh, she thought as she drew out an old sock with crusty on it, can¡¯t they think of anything else to do. She tossed the sock out on the floor wiping her fingers on her dress in disgust.

    ¡°What?¡± asked Faldo who was nearby, looked at the sock with a raised eyebrow. He was walking back from the cells in the rear of the tower where he searched for a spare set. The plan had been simple. Invite some people that hated Damon to see him walk; they start a riot. While that was going on, the three of them sneak into the tower and get a spare set of keys. When they bring Damon back to put the riot down, Faldo and company relieve the guard of the troublesome criminal everyone loved to hate.

    ¡°Men are so disgusting and are pigs,¡± She stated as she spun on her heel and stomped off towards the door leaving Faldo with a puzzled look. As she approached the door, she heard some voices on the other side approaching the thick door.

    ¡°Reckon they left any rearguard?¡± A male said in a thick woods draw.

    ¡°Naw Jiles, Ole Fred said that the entire guard would be turned out if we whipped them poor idiots into a frenzy. That is why Lindsey allowed herself to be arrested.¡± Came a female voice. Her voice was coarse like a millstone grinding flour.

    ¡°Well then, let¡¯s get the garrison¡¯s armory distributed to the good people of the city where it belongs¡­¡± Cariline didn¡¯t stop to listen anymore. She moved swiftly to the door as she heard a latch start to turn.

    ¡°Faldo, Marlin! We have company,¡± she called as she planted her tiny body against the door. Faldo vaulted the desk he was searching with a giant bound and slammed himself against the hardwood door as someone was trying to push it open.

    ¡°Seems someone has beat us to our well-earned loot, Marisa. What shall we do ''bout that?¡± Came Jiles¡¯s slimy voice slithering through the barely cracked door.

    ¡°Well my boy,¡± Came Marisa¡¯s voice grated, followed by a blade slipping through the crack catching Faldo¡¯s thigh, tracing a thin ribbon down it, ¡°Orders are orders. They will just have to share.¡±

    Faldo gave a sharp gasp of pain as the blade withdrew. He shifted his position to move his leg out of reach and drove his big shoulder deeper into the door. A thud came against the door, followed by another, as shoulders began to beat in a rhythmic tempo. Faldo bounced back and forth as he put all of his weight against it. He could hear angry voices calling for something to use as a ram or maybe an ax. The big man strained, his face building into a red storm, eyes closed in pain from the wound in his leg.

    ¡°Go help Marlin bring some desk and such to barricade this,¡± He barked at the wide eye Cariline. She ran to the colossal smith, who had already wrapped his tree trunk-sized arms around a desk and picked it up by himself to carry it over. Cariline stopped to help carry the wooden desk, looking up helpless at the smith with wide blue eyes. She tried several times to grasp at the desk until the smith waved her off with a shake of his massive bald head.

    ¡°Go get a chair girl,¡± he puffed, face red with exertion, ¡°I got this.¡±

    Marlin deposited the large desk beside Faldo, taking a deep breath of relief. Faldo grunted as another crack hit the door, drawing the attention of the smith. Marlin tipped the desk meaningful towards Faldo and the blonde-haired bravado looked wide-eyed at the smith, cocking a nervous smile. He was nodding enthusiastically at the smith.

    ¡°On three?¡± Faldo said and the smith with Faldo¡¯s head wagging furiously counted together, ¡°One, two, three!¡±

    Faldo dodged to the side right as Marlin flipped the desk longways against the door. It landed with a crash against the door wedging it shut. Faldo sat shaking, head between his knees, breathing hard. His face had turned into an ashen color. It color looked paler when combined with his chin-length blonde hair.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter boy,¡± Marlin asked, ¡°Ain¡¯t you ever been in a fight,¡±

    ¡°Axe,¡± Was all Faldo said, pointing at the door.

    Marlin looked again where Faldo¡¯s head had been. Just to the right of the spot was marked with a hole cut with a blade of an ax. Marlin exploded into a burst of roaring laughter, slapping Faldo on the back and then helping him up.

    ¡°Boy, you have balls of solid steel,¡± He said still laughing, ¡°If that where me, there would be piss still rolling down my leg and an aroma around my backside.¡±

    ¡°So, if you boys are done with your comparison of the hardness of your balls. We have company, remember.¡± Cariline shouted as she threw a chair through the front window at an attacker, knocking him back to the street below. Faldo jumped back to his feet drawing a throwing knife from his brace. He flung it through the window hitting another woman who was trying to come through.

    ¡°Can you stack something in there, Cari?¡± Faldo asked as he drew his rapier, ¡°You know Marlin when you said there was a whole damn city that hated Damon. I honestly didn¡¯t think you meant it.¡± He came to stand beside the window and kept stabbing at anyone who poked their head up as Cariline piled whatever she could find into the opening.

    ¡°How is it that a pregnant woman gets stuck with all this damn heavy lifting,¡± she huffed and sweated with the exertion, ¡±and don¡¯t blame Marlin, it was your plan remember.¡±

    ¡°WHAT YOU¡¯RE PREGNANT!¡± Came both men at the same time, they stopped what they were doing to stare at the young woman with incredulity. Momentarily the battle had been forgotten as the realization of the statement set into the two men''s heads.

    ¡°I gave you the milk of the poppy!¡± Yelled Marlin in his deep, gruff bass. His voice boomed off the walls, making dust fall from the rafters above.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°And I slammed you in a wall and let you get in this FIGHT!¡± Yelled Faldo, ignoring the window he was supposed to be defending. Heads were starting to appear as the attackers realized that the fight had for the moment been forgotten.

    ¡°While all this confession is wonderful for the soul and the concern is very touching boys. We are in the middle--¡± she stopped long enough to use a long pole to push someone back out the window Faldo was now pointedly ignoring, ¡°--in the middle of a nice talk, with all these delightful people.¡± She finished the last with an emphasizing hit to a vicious dirty man, across his head, with the pole.

    Faldo came up beside her and shoved her behind him protectively saying darkly, ¡°Stay behind me you are in no condition to fight.¡±

    ¡°What do you m¡ª¡° she was cut off as one of the side window¡¯s shutters started to collapse inward. Half a dozen scruffy men climbed through wielding wicked-looking curved swords, their teeth flashing menacingly.

    ¡°Marlin we need an exit!¡± Faldo said as he broke a sweat as he spared back and forth with several attackers. After watching Faldo¡¯s sword work, Cariline tended to agree she was not in shape for this fight, but she was going to have a talk with him about women. Marlin put down the huge smith hammer he brought long enough to pick up a desk and hurl it at a window, the shattering of glass and splintering of wood could be heard intermixing with the sounds of the fighting. Faldo sheathed his sword and scooped up Cariline, who screeched and slapped him across his chest rapidly.

    ¡°Put me down,¡± she squawked indignantly, ¡°I can walk.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he said cutting her short while ignoring her slapping, ¡°You might trip jumping through the window or cut yourself on the landing.¡±

    Cariline heard Marlin chuckle behind them as he fought off the looters. Faldo jumped through and landed on the cobble in the alley with Marlin close behind them, shaking the ground when he landed. Faldo put Cariline down and smoothing her dress out for her as she tried to slap his hands away. She spun on him and stuck a finger in his nose.

    ¡°If you ever do that to me again, I will cut those steel balls of yours off.¡± She said in a low, threatening voice. It was just too much for Marlin. He burst into guttural throaty laughter. Faldo turned looking hurt at the smith who he had counted as an ally. Marlin finally caught his breath as they were walking away.

    ¡°Sorry boy, I made all those same mistakes with my wife during the Banderling Wars.¡± He chuckled again, ¡°It is like going back in time, it is.¡±

    They didn¡¯t encounter any more resistance outside after they cleared the first few streets. At them few encounters, Faldo noticed despite Cariline¡¯s objections, she let the two men do the dirty work. They wandered, watching the chaos currently unfolding within the walls of their city and finally, Faldo called a halt.

    ¡°Obviously something more then what we caused is happening,¡± Faldo began thoughtfully half to himself, and Marlin nodded his agreement, ¡°I say we go to the Three Pigs. Maybe Phil will know what is going on.¡±

    ¡°Aye son, something is in the air. Taverns are the common house for news. What say you Cariline?¡± The smith turned to Cariline who only warily nodded. The smith gestured for Faldo to lead.

    Sporadically there were houses on fire, seemingly at random, but Faldo started to notice a pattern. The people whose homes and businesses burned were the ones who supported the Mother Matron and her Temple. He swallowed a hard lump in his throat and glanced knowingly at Marlin, who just gave him a nod. Faldo picked up the pace to a jog, and they rounded the corner to where the Three Pigs should have been.

    The big tavern was fully engulfed, the roof had flames curling around it. All the windows and doors had fire shooting out of it. A prominent form laid out front in a puddle of blood. Philian had been partially skinned. The portly man looked like one who had been tortured.

    Cariline gave a cry of dismay and ran past Faldo to the figure in the smoke-filled street. Her two companions came slowly up behind her to stare at the form on the ground. The friendly tavern keep, who tried to resist the Temple by taking in the first slave and treating her like a human, was dead. For a time all that could be heard was screaming in the street and the smell of the burning buildings, then a slow clap started behind them, startling the group.

    ¡°Well, well¡± came a voice that was cruel and coarse came from the origin of the clapping, ¡°and I thought I was going to have to search the entire city to find all of you and here you are, the key to the Temple itself. By the way, thanks for the invite. It has been a fabulous party.¡±

    Cariline looked around behind her and took in a deep breath, her thin face blanching. ¡°Daddy,¡±

    The Underworld was unlike anything the shade had ever seen. He had walked down the white marble Judgment Way that seemed to be hundreds of leagues in length in the City of the Dead. He had no way to tell though, the light shined continuously on the city, keeping it at that just right time of the morning when you wanted to be on the lake fishing. The buildings seemed to be built from the latest fashion on the outer edges, where he had started walking at what appeared to be ages ago, to the archaic by the bridge over the most beautiful river he had ever seen. The shade gazed over the edge at the glistening waters and glanced up at the reaper questioning. The reaper gave a long sigh and shook his head.

    ¡°No,¡± the skeletal apparition said as if answering this question before, ¡°There is no fish in the river, and I wouldn¡¯t try either. The Grim does look down on it.¡±

    The shade shrugged his shoulder¡¯s, how was he suppose to know. He had seen other shades laughing and eating, fighting and brawling. Demons, he had even seen a few shades going at it like rabbits. If this was the Underworld, he thought, he could stand it for a few centuries.

    They walked up a long set of stairs, and he no longer got winded. His joints didn¡¯t ache. He could see clear to the top were tall pillars that stood erect along the glistening white wall, like an honor guard watching over the court. The pair reached the top of the long flight of stairs and looked upon a magnificent court constructed of the purest marble that made the court gleam white. Into the Marble at the top, the history of the World of Grim was carved in exquisite detail, from the Grim¡¯s birth to today. He shook his head in disbelief as he watched history slowly being etched in the next section. Fear grew in him, for a being with this much power would surely know about his sinful life. He tapped his skeletal companion on his radial shakily, suddenly feeling discomfort in his non-corporeal body.

    ¡°Um, Mr. Reaper sir, What is being a reaper like?¡± He asked nervously, licking his lips.

    ¡°What?¡± The reaper asked confused, turning to look at the fidgeting shade beside him. The shade shifted nervously beside his escort, sifting the dirt with a barefoot. The shade looked shamefaced at the reaper as he began to clarify his question.

    ¡°I mean, it ain¡¯t such a bad gig, is it? Ferrying souls back and forth and so?¡± He eyed the immortal being on the throne, with his glowing red eyes and his dark hair, raven black, hanging to his shoulders in glistening splendor. He had high prominent cheekbone and a hawk nose, altogether he was the most terrifying and handsome image he had seen all his existence. He feared The Grim would know his thoughts and his lust.

    ¡°No, actually it is torment! What I wouldn¡¯t do for rebirth. My soul aches from how long it has had to endure a physical existence without rest. That is part of our punishment.¡± The reaper said indignantly, turning back around.

    The man sighed, ¡°I guess that is where I am headed, to be a reaper. For this is the Judgment and woe to me as the necromancers have been want to say. I didn¡¯t tithe enough. I liked my men too.¡±

    The reaper took a small step away, slowly turned and gave a small, raspy chuckle, ¡°He doesn¡¯t sentence people to be reapers down here but would you mind standing a little farther away, you disgusting bloke. Now, if you will stop letting me know about your nasty habits and listen, my Master is about to pass judgment.¡±

    The Shade turned his attention to the immortal on the basalt throne in the center of the crowded court.

 Chapter Eight

    ¡°Next,¡± cried a female seneschal who stood beside the throne with a sheath of parchment that seemed never to end.

    ¡°Fernando, who do you bring us from my wives in Bruenor this day,¡± asked The Grim.

    ¡°Master, I bring you, Vern Kile, from an outlying village called Frost Marches.¡± The reaper called Fernando said with a slight bow of his skeletal head.

    The shade almost shook himself to death before he fell prostrate before the immortal crying in a pathetic voice for mercy. The Grim looked in pity at the man and gently soothed him. With a gentle and calming big hand, he reached down and picked the man¡¯s face up to look at him, ¡°Be at ease Vern, for no harm can come to you here.¡±

    The shade stopped crying and got back to his trembling knees. He took in a shaky breath and spoke, ¡°Your Grace, up till this very afternoon, I knew not that you even existed. I have not worshiped you in my entire life. Please forgive me. I have heard the fireside legends, change me not into a reaper.¡±

    Fernando let out a sigh and shook his bleach white skull side to side. The Grim gave him a sharp look and spoke softly to the frightened man, ¡°I only cast that Judgement on the living. In fact, it is the only Judgement I cast on the living. This Judgment room is for souls, and no harm can come to souls. I am not to be worship; I am not a God and do not serve you, so do not give me your worship. Live as you may on the Overworld. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°My father¡¯s father warned me that the necromancer¡¯s told him as a boy that to not worship your grace would end you into a reaper.¡± The man said in a little unsure voice, ¡°¡¯Tis why we moved to Frost Marches.¡±

    ¡°That was not one of my necromancers. Charlatans will tell you to worship me to make money off you and sorcerers will tell you to worship me to try to steer you to Chaos. My wives know I am not to be worshiped,¡± then he gave a low chuckle, ¡°They argue with me enough.¡±

    ¡°Then what does happen here, if you can forgive the ignorant one.¡± The shade said humbly.

    ¡°No good sir, that is wisdom to admit when one does not have the answer. Too many times the prideful show up here sure of the answer, and they find themselves ignorant. The Judgement is just to see how you died, how old your soul is, and which way your soul tends to lean, Order or Chaos. There is a balance to maintain and all the things I just mentioned all play into it. Your soul has a memory. It tends to lean one way or the other, over the eons. The older a soul gets, the more often it needs to take a respite from the Overworld or else it gets weary, and it will tend to lean towards Chaos alone. If you died through violence or rape, your soul could require a rest. Sometimes, violence can make a soul suddenly switch allegiance. I must Judge how you might turn out in your next life; it has nothing to do with your previous.¡±

    The man nodded his understanding and thought for a few minutes absorbing all that he had just been told. Finally, he looked up and spoke, ¡°I do apologize, for I imagine you have to explain that too much, but I do thank you too, Grace.¡± The Grim nodded at him with a smile, ¡°Sire, my manner of death was falling through the ice on a pond. I have few regrets. Life is harsh up where the sun disappears during the winter, and it is night day ¡ä round. How judge you me sire?¡±

    ¡°Vern, your soul, is good and you are not so old as to need rest. If you feel it and are ready, the world is suddenly in need of Order at the moment, will you accept rebirth.¡± The Grim asked with his arms opened wide in invitation.

    ¡°Truly Father,¡± the shade said with his arms reaching eagerly for the All-Father. He stepped forward and embraced the Grim. A glow overtook them, and slowly the shade transformed, as his memories transferred to the Grim, both good and bad. What was left was an infant. The Grim gestured to the reaper, who had brought him.

    ¡°Fernando, bear him to Gremlin¡¯s domain. At Port Salvation, you will find a young woman waiting for this soul for her infant. Be careful. Then return to Bruenor straight forth by the Temple at Port Salvation, tell Matron Velra I sent you.¡±

    The reaper nodded reverently, as it took the reborn soul in its arms. The second part of the reapers damnation is to deliver the reborn souls to the newborn infants. They hated that portion but craved it with an uncanny longing, always being taste tester of rebirth but never being partakers of that sweet nectar of life. Each moment they got to spend with the soul was but a short, agonizing respite from their withdraws of life. They took their time, but it always made the moment of letting go that much worse. The skeletal reaper slowly made it¡¯s way back down Judgement way.

    The Grim turned his attention back to his seneschal smiling, ¡°You know Lucy, it never gets old. The knowledge that is received is such a reward, something to be envied. Sometimes, I think they are the lucky ones to experience such grandness in their short walks of life.¡±

    ¡°I was truly blessed in the short thirty years in which I got to live in Luth, Grace.¡± the seneschal replied reverently back, ¡°The best of which was the last ten after you choose to marry a simple cooper girl.¡±

    ¡°You were never a simple cooper girl Lucy.¡± The Grim said fondly, ¡°Your ability to control reapers even after the body has left, is proof of that. Well, let us reminisce when there is not so much war and famine on the Overworld, my love.¡±

    ¡°Truly Grace,¡± she said with a slight bow of respect. Off in the distance, a gong could be heard, long reverberating tolls. The sound echoed throughout the city, reapers and shades looked around confused. All activities in the city ceased as eyes turned to look upon the Throne, where their Master and Creator sat. Lucy edged closer to the Grim and whispered out the side of her mouth, ¡°Please tell me you know what that is sir.¡±

    The Grim looked sadly at his wife, ¡°Yes Lucy,¡± he said with a sad resignation in his voice, ¡°It means one of our houses is in trouble. For the first time since the Sorcerers¡¯ Wars, a Grim-Ward has fallen.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t the Voice tell you not to interfere that time,¡± Lucy asked, ¡°I thought I was going to have to chain you to your Throne to make you comply.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but it also told me the next gong to sound would be the voice of prophecy. It would signal the beginning to a period of time for my poor world in which it would become a battleground to a war that I accidentally started the day I created second-man.¡± He said as he sat heavily in his chair.

    ¡°May I ask the prophecy that makes you so sad,¡± Lucy asked.

    ¡°I can tell it to you but it will only make you as sad as it makes me, for it tells you one thing that will happen for certainty. But it¡¯s the second part that frustrates me. It eludes me as a thought lost on the verge of sleep; maybe I am not to know it.¡± He said shaking his head in frustration, ¡°In the days of the falling away, the Great House of the Lake shall burn with despair, for the Father shall disappear but rejoice, for the wolf who is not a wolf shall descend to become the Father.¡±

    Lucy shook her head, ¡°You have spoken truth, if this is the prophecy in which the Voice has referred, there can be no doubt to the first part. But I do wonder to the meaning of disappearing, my Lord. It does not say perish.¡±

    The Grim gave an indifferent shrug and turned back to the crowd before him, ¡°We can only wait for the Most Beloved of that House to send a messenger to me, then we will know to where I go to do battle, till then we have work to do.¡±

    Lucy nodded and called for the next shade.

    Around four hours later, they heard a commotion coming down Judgment Way in the city. They could see shades being punched down, carts being overturned, and they even saw one reaper get tossed through a window.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°That¡¯s our reaper,¡± Lucy said.

    ¡°Can you make out who¡¯s it is yet?¡± Grim said as he stood and made a slight gesture and a sword appeared in that hand. A suit of chain appeared on his body, and The Crest of Grim appeared on his chest. It was a snake in a figure of eight, its tail in its mouth. In the clutches of its two circles of infinity were two trees. On the Overworld side was a dead tree and on the Underworld side was a live one.

    ¡°Give way damn you,¡± came the distant, distinct voice of the reaper as he hit the bridge, ¡°Give way in the name of that immortal over there.¡±

    ¡°That would be Rascus sire,¡± Lucy said with a little smile. Rascus had been turned somewhere just under a decade ago and had still not worn into the whole submission and honor to the Grim thing.

    ¡°Then Tharpe is in trouble, let us wait to hear what Bethel¡¯s message is,¡± The Grim finished as he paced back and forth restlessly before the massive, black basalt throne.

    The clicking of the reaper¡¯s heels got closer, and so did his cursing, and consequently, the cursing of the other reapers and shades grew closer too as he broke the Grim¡¯s peace order on his court and bashed, shoved and kicked his way to the throne. Finally, he stood quite angrily before his Master.

    ¡°Really! Some people around here don¡¯t understand the word EMERGENCY. Even when you yell it in there damn deaf ears.¡± Rascus fumed, ¡°Sorry your Grace, I am bound to you from Bethel at Tharpe. The city revolted when the Matron tried to bring to justice a criminal of great notoriety. When the citizens tried to hinder the guard from their sworn duty of escort, the guard detained a member of the crowd. The crowd broke into a riot, and they started to slaughter those associated with the guard and your Temple. Bethel lowered the Grim-Ward to offer them shelter and protection of the Temple to those who are in need and to fortify the Temple in an attempt to retake the streets.¡±

    The Grim thought as he strode back and forth before his throne. There was more to this than that, he knew there was dissatisfaction with the Temples in the East and it had been building since the Matron in Tharpe had come to power. Maybe there was a connection here. Perhaps the recent deaths of two of his wives were related to the fighting that now took place at the Great City of the Lake. He turned to the waiting reaper and looked him straight in his empty eye sockets, the Grim¡¯s red eyes burning.

    ¡°I know you may not lie to me, now that you have relayed this message of how dire things are. Who was this criminal that was hated so to bring this forth or is there something more? What has my wife not told me Rascus? What is she hiding.¡±

    ¡°Sire, the Prisoner was mine and Bethel¡¯s own son, who she has been harboring from the law for years. Dissatisfaction in the Temple has been growing since the Matron has taken over, as she has raised taxes to the point of starvation so to provide our son a life of luxury. Damon, our son, has a thirst for hunting people and anytime anyone threatened our son, she has punished or got rid of them. The final straw, two years past, Damon was caught with his girl in bed. The girl''s father demanded Damon¡¯s manhood for what he called rape. Bethel changed the laws concerning the ownership of people and offered to buy the damaged goods. Since then, the Temple has bought three more people that were not related to Damon¡¯s case.¡± The reaper reported obediently.

    The Grim felt his temper rising. His wife had chosen to own something that belonged to him. She had broken her marriage vows and now flaunted her power to hide her adultery, and he had a son. Of all the events he needed right now, dealing with another Seed was not one of them. Grim turned and punched the reaper in a burst of fury, sending the bones flying backward.

    ¡°You helped her bear a son. That is forbidden, you shall say nothing, nothing, to my wife. I will have to deal with this atrocity that has happened before any more evil comes of it. It is my place to chastise her. Lucy, I must leave to the surface. This new problem has me a new need to consult the¡­¡± and the Grim stopped and looked at Lucy. The Grim smiled a big, toothy grin with a look of realization.

    ¡°What is it Grace,¡± she asked as she helped Rascus reattach his skull. The Grim came over with the reaper¡¯s femur, handing it down to Lucy.

    ¡°Sorry about that Rascus,¡± He said apologetically and then to Lucy, ¡°Because my son on the Overworld and I need to meet, for he sounds like quite a predator.¡±

    Fredrick marched his newly found prize through the streets he now owned. When Marlin had sent him a message telling him Damon was going to be in the open this morning, he knew it was just a ruse. Marlin had raised Damon; he wasn¡¯t about to see the boy killed, no matter what he had done. No, Fredrick had taken the chance to move his plans ahead of schedule. His partner, the Lady Thewar, had set up their headquarters in the Inn of the Second Home.

    At First, it was so if they failed to get the populace into a frenzy, their little army of two hundred would go unnoticed and melt into the background of the three thousand odd population of the city. He wished he could spare some more men from elsewhere in the East but at the moment he couldn¡¯t. In the inn, Fredrick and Lady Thewar would be out of sight. No one would be any the wiser about who was calling the shots and would think it to be a simple riot.

    What they found in the city was a fire cask ready to be set off, and it exploded. Now he had an army numbering almost one thousand, and he had the necromancers bottled up inside the Temple nicely. He opened up the door to the luxurious inn and marched the three into the common room, signaling for the two younger ones to be tied up. He turned to the smith, who was bent slightly in the low beamed ceiling and smiled a warm smile of friendship.

    ¡°Sorry old friend, this place wasn¡¯t meant for bigger folk like you,¡± He said gesturing to a seat that was brought in by an armed mercenary.

    Marlin looked at the chair and remained standing. Fredrick only shrugged, as the door opened and a woman in her thirties and a man in a heavy robe in his fifties, joined them.

    ¡°Well, now that we are all together. Marlin, I want you to know that as long as you help, you have always been a friend and will be free to go.¡± He stated, ¡°I believe you know the Lady Thewar, the new proprietor of the Inn of the Second Home and this is Sedrick, Sorcerer of the First Circle from Salastar.--¡± The middle-aged Fredrick gestured negligently at the two who stood beside him. He glanced at his gagged daughter with disgust, ¡°--Two years ago, I find that one of my daughters has been spoiled and is worth no more than the pile of dog shit that I stepped in walking in to find her and that dark-haired demon rutting around in the dark. And the Temple, who is supposed to dispense the justice of Grim? Well, it took them long enough, but they finally came to their senses and bought that pile of shit off me. The Mother Matron gave me just a little jingle in my pocket to compensate me for what her demon did.¡± As he spoke, Marlin could hear Cariline sobbing through her gag and Faldo throwing cruse after curse after Fredrick, the veins bulging from the young man''s neck. One of the guards kicked Faldo hard in the side. He fell silent but gave a murderous glare at the guard.

    Fredrick continued, ¡°It was at that time I decided to start forming the Resistance against the Temple, and really, it wasn¡¯t that hard. The distaste against the Temple was alive and well. Some of my very first prominent members were the Lord Vicor, Faldo¡¯s grandfather, and The Lady¡¯s father. The Eastern Coalition of Trade is a supporter of our movement. We started to branch out and disrupt the Temple¡¯s supplies coming in and were doing such a good job that the Sorcerers¡¯ Council of the Free City thought it a good idea to send help. We now have branches all the way down to Port Hope. They already sank one Matron, by next Grim-Tide, we are hoping to be rid of that Temple.¡±

    ¡°So what has this to do with me,¡± asked the big smith as he found the place in the ceiling that allowed him to rise to his full height, though his head still brushed the bottom of the second floor. He sighed in relief and stretched his massive arms out to the side and rolling his bear-like shoulders. Some of the guards near shifted uncomfortably, eyeing a man they were unsure if they could incapacitate.

    ¡°We just want you to play along and help us to breach the Temple without a fight. Help us save thousands of lives and free the city from a tyrant.¡± Fredrick said tantalizingly, ¡°Then the city will be set up as it should be run, by a council. Taxes set by people who understand them, by businessmen. What say you? You stand to gain a lot.¡±

    ¡°Just to lose my soul, no thank you.¡± Marlin sneered at him, ¡°I think I will take that seat now.¡± As he finished the big smith went over and sat heavily beside his friends. Marlin had never been one to mince words. He spoke plainly when he did talk at all. Faldo gave his friend a look of respect and nodded at him. Cariline sat crying softly to herself trying not to look at her real father.

    ¡°Well then Marlin, I am afraid we will have to execute you with the other two on the ¡¯morrows morning. This evening, we will tie the three of you to stakes outside the Temple walls to see if they will try to rescue you. Maybe in that, you can finally be of some use for once in your life.¡± He said that last bit as he leaned down to Cariline and grabbed her face hard by the chin, and then he slapped her, ¡°If it weren¡¯t for you, your mother would be here for this glorious day. She died for the shame of birthing you. I saw to it myself.¡±

    Faldo tried to kick at him, and Marlin tried to come up only to find a sword at his neck. Fredrick turned to them shaking a finger, ¡°Ah, ah, ah, don¡¯t get in the way of a father chastising his daughter.¡±

    The leader went to walk out of the room with the other two, over his shoulder to the guards he called back, ¡°You have two hours, try not to wear her out too bad. She enjoys that sort of thing.¡± Cariline looked at the guards as they started to try to push each other out of the way with wide eyes. Marlin tried to rise but the nearest guard stabbed him in the side, and another knocked Faldo hard for kicking him. Cariline started to thrash wildly, screaming for salvation.

 Chapter Nine

    Captain Jen had called for the retreat four hours ago. They were overrun trying to evacuate the city into the Temple. The move to tease the flanks with alternating strikes had worked brilliantly. They got the six remaining soldiers from the condemned honored guard and Damon back to the Temple.

    During that time, they managed to muster all four Garrisons, and for a time it looked like they might put down the riot, but somehow the people gained access to one of the cities armories. The tides turned, and for the past two hours, the West Tower Garrison, led by Corporal Wallace had held the gates in a pitched battle, to allow as many people who wanted safe harbor behind the high walls of the Temple in. After that, the swell of fray became too much for the Corporal''s valiant efforts, and she called for the pullback.

    Bethel was now on her way out to the gates to get a final situation report from the leaders of the small army now within her walls. They were safe for the time being in the Temple. It was constructed to be a bastion in the wilds before the city had gained its walls. The army and necromancers had gained a respite from the battle that they had seen in the streets. Officially, the necromancers were the military leaders in times of war such as this. Bethel herself held the rank of General. The iron haired Matron made all the main decisions on the preparations for this siege but she relied on her two captains, Jen and Isobelle, who were both well versed in battle strategy.

    Isobelle, who was the youngest Necromancer and now acting second in the absence of Jen, was the daughter of the famous Sergeant Marcus Hammerhand of Doldrum, a hero of the Banderling Wars. The young honey-haired warrior had been reared around the art of warfare and raised with a sword in her hand. When the Grim sent her here to be her third, Bethel had been leery, but since Bethel had come to love the girl of twenty-five winters like a sister.

    Bethel walked through the crowd that was saturated with fear, inquiring to the needs of the people as she went. Most complained about the bitter cold outside in the windy courtyard but were thankful for just being alive. Bethel would promise the small, huddled groups fire and blankets and then continue on to the next group. Making their way through the crowded courtyard did not prove to be too much of a hassle. After each group, the crowd would part before the armed necromancers in their Roldem chain. Bethel felt pangs of pity for the blood and soot-covered paces before her. Children clung to their mothers, obviously, they fled quickly and without the proper attire for the approaching Grim-Tide. She shook her head to clear the thoughts and to focus on getting these people back to where they belonged. If Rascus had made good time, then her husband should be arriving soon to provide some help to his family.

    Bethel looked down the path that was parting and found Corporal Wallace standing at the gates with the West Garrison, giving orders. His men performed the task with precision around their area and without question before the Corporal and she stopped for a moment to inspect the site. He was preparing for the siege that was likely to be a short one. The Corporal had pitch heating over a fire, men repairing arrows and weapons, and even had the remainder of the West Garrison building a rough ballista. Bethel came up behind the short and stocky soldier and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked over it and turned and saluted.

    ¡°General Mother,¡± he said gruffly with respect, ¡°I expect you want a report.¡±

    ¡°I was expecting to see your superior down here Corporal, where is he?¡± The Matron asked looking around on her tippy toes for Thomas. She still wanted to get out of Thomas what went wrong this morning on the Walk of Judgment. Yet, her nephew was strangely absent from his post.

    Wallace glanced away, looking as if wanted to say something, his face reddened slightly under his coarse, black beard. He looked back at the General Mother finally and said, ¡°He had other things that a superior should be attending to, he left this defense to me.¡± He gestured to the busy soldiers around him with a look of pride. He stopped briefly to give a sharp order to one of the men that was working with the ballista and turned back respectfully to his superior. She knew her nephew had nothing to do with any of this. He probably had never even seen a ballista before, let alone gave instructions on how to make one. She had put Thomas in a position of authority, not for his leadership capabilities, but for his young and energetic flesh, but that was her mistake. Bethel knew somewhere deep inside her, today her sins had come to haunt her.

    ¡°Corporal Wallace, I am the superior who should be attending things. Now, you may speak freely. Where is he?¡± Bethel demanded. She tried to shake the foreboding feelings that surrounded her. Bethel had always been her own master and served herself first. She would retake control of this situation with Thomas and correct it before her husband arrived. Then, The Grim and Bethel could route these lunatics and punish them for their insolence.

    ¡°He said he should be up on the battlements like a captain should be. He is no captain. To speak frankly, as permission is given, he is a pompous ass who should be busted back to private. This whole thing is his fault.¡± Corporal Wallace said heatedly.

    ¡°What do you mean his fault?¡± Bethel asked.

    ¡°He sent runners to every corner of the city and then sent runners as far as a horse could take them before dawn, to tell them that his cousin was up for trial ¡ª plain stupidity. Too many people want that boy dead; he should have been taken quietly and quickly. But that idiot said it was his key to being the first officer in the East. Stupidity, there is no such thing¡± He shook his head angrily, ¡°Do you know when we went to close the gates, anyone who was caught trying to make it here was being killed. All this death is based on one idiots delusions.--¡± Wallace spat some tabard root¡¯s dark juice off to the side. Soldiers used the root in the field for its narcotic effect to help with battlefield pain. The Corporal had a gash just above the eyebrow and the blood ran down his battered face into his meticulously kept beard. He looked back at the Matron with a disgusted look, ¡°--The worst of it was, there was no unity among the Garrisons. I had to try to hold the gates with only my damn men, forty-nine of us against hundreds. We were all fighting for the same thing. Your nephew did have one thing right, out there we needed a commander to bring the units together. I mean no offense, but if we were together, four hundred trained soldiers, we could have stopped this.¡±

    ¡°Thomas has always been a lousy Sergeant. Why don''t we promote you too? You seem to be an able commander. What you have done here and on your own is impressive Corporal.¡± She replied as she waved her hand towards his busy men, some of which stopped to listen intently. It was no secret that Thomas was ill liked among the ranks of the West Garrison. The young Sergeant had been despised when he was promoted ahead of more capable and eligible commanders.

    ¡°It won¡¯t do any good to be of equal rank. He still has seniority for time served as a sergeant.¡± He pointed out, ¡°And each Garrison still has its own commander. During the heat of the battle at the gates, I couldn¡¯t get one of those Sergeants to help a lowly Corporal. Damnation! They were so busy posturing themselves like peacocks to get the most glory; they couldn¡¯t help each other out. Just an extra Garrison at the gates working together could have held the gates another half-hour.¡±

    ¡°Ah but as of right now there is a new rank, you are now Master Sergeant Wallace. You are in command of all the garrisons. You did a superb job today, and you care for those whom you protect. You are not afraid to point out the faults of a leader if asked but will still follow regardless. We need a person like you Wallace right now, so I am not asking, I am telling you.¡± Bethel said putting her hand on the new Master Sergeant''s shoulders. A ragged cheer broke out behind him and a few of his men even broke rank to come up and congratulate him.

    He smiled ruefully, ¡°I don¡¯t think your nephew is going to like this, but I do accept. I will deal with Thomas later. I will probably have to box his ear a few times. First, we have to make it out of here alive. I expect you want a report.¡±

    ¡°If Thomas gives you any trouble, send him to me. I have the perfect punishment. Master Sergeant, what is going on so far and I want approximate headcount, though I expect the captain has a full one.¡±

    ¡°After we closed the gates, we sealed them with the mechanism that was built into this fortress two hundred years ago. After that, I have had the men reinforcing them with timbers that I scavenged from the stables. I do hope you did not mind. We are in a siege.-" He gave her a long sideways glance, not meeting her eyes "The enemy has been trying to use handheld battering rams. I have never been through a siege but judging from what has happened so far I would say they need a lot more than that to knock that over. Unless they have an ogre at their disposal or a sorcerer I don''t think they will come through the gates.¡± He chuckled looking with pride at the steel-reinforced gates, ¡°We have around five hundred civilians in here, I brought the Western Garrison. It is around fifty men. The other three Garrisons should be around the same. I know we lost two and three more injured. I will get exact numbers now that I have the authority.¡±

    ¡°Well Master Sergeant, It looks like you should be counted in the injured category.¡± She said pointing at the blood that ran into the newly made Master Sergeant''s beard. He reached up and smeared the blood on his fingertips and glanced at it casually.

    ¡°That? Naw, head wounds tend to bleed a lot. It is actually not all that bad¡­¡± The Master Sergeant started to excuse himself, ¡°Now if you¡¯ll-¡°

    ¡°Most men lost in war, are lost from infection and disease. You forget I have fought one war Master Sergeant and last I counted that is one more than you. I just got a good commander, and I am not about to lose him to a scratch. Now go see the healer here.¡± She pointed towards the main building and swatted him on the rear as if he were five. He glared at his superior, but she held his glare with her steady steel eyes.

    ¡°Yes General Mother,¡± He said glumly, ¡°Corporal Thad, I have to go see a healer about this scratch, take over. Start some fires for these people will you.¡±

    Corporal Thad smiled and yelled back towards him, ¡°I told you to go get that taken care of.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Wallace waved him off as he walked away and his men set to their task. Bethel nodded in appreciation; they loved the man she had chosen to be their commander. They choose, she corrected, she just happened to concur.

    Now it was time to ruin her nephew¡¯s day. He had cost this city a terrible price for his quest in vainglory and she was willing to wager, he blamed others for his failure. She mounted the glistening stone steps to climb the wall to the wide parapet overlooking the city. The walls of gray granite matched the mood in the Temple. They were sorrowful at the battle that now waged within their city and home. Some of their own homes and businesses burned and their families lay dead in the street just outside the Temple.

    As Bethel topped the walk, between the merlons, she could see children, women holding babies, elderly, and the men who tried to shield them, all dead. There would be a high debt to pay when she caught up with the bastard who had led this battle against this Temple. There were twenty-five or so archers from the North Garrison dressed in leather that now lined the walls with their arrows knocked, standing in the cold sunshine. They were not shooting at the people in the street below; watching with pained expressions on their soot-covered faces, as people slaughtered one another. Their supplies of arrows were scarce. Unless they were directly assaulted on the walls they had orders to stay their weapons. The wind moaned mournfully in cold gust and the men standing there did not flinch at their post as they stood vigilant, watching the chaos in the streets below.

    Another twenty-five stern-faced men were up there holding fast to long poles that had a Y at the end. They stood between the archers, with long swords buckled to their sides. There had obviously been some attempts to use ladders to get in. Out of morbid curiosity, the Matron looked down and saw five ladders laying in splinters just below her. In the ruins of the ladders lay the broken bodies of seven men from the fall. She nodded in grim satisfaction, that was seven less they had to worry about. Now if just a few more idiots would get the same damn idea, she shook her head thoughtfully as she continued her search for her Captain and missing Sergeant.

    She spotted Jen in her bloodied chain armor, adorned with the crest of the infinite snake of Grim. Her face was spattered with blood that stood out against the pale skin that came naturally to her second. Her tangled red hair framed her heart-shaped face, almost making it look like fire. It would match her temperament right now, fiery. Next to her, stood her young nephew, in shining chain that he had stopped, in pure vanity, and taken the time to polish after his battle on the streets. Thomas was lording around the battlements, shouting orders from the wall, while his Captain''s face was slowly boiling over.

    Jen had fought, when she was but eighteen winters, in the Banderling Wars alongside Bethel while Thomas was still a little boy. She was fifteen years his senior and not impressed with his peacock posturing. Her face was a picture of exasperation as Jen caught Bethel¡¯s eye coming up the final flight of stairs to the top of the gatehouse. She was pleading for help. Thomas looked his Aunt up and down, appraising her lithe body as she walked up the stairs.

    The Matron shook her head in dismay. At a time like this, why couldn¡¯t the boy think with the correct head? She had made a grave mistake when she had allowed him into her bed, but sometimes her cravings got ahead of her. Bethel had allowed the need for carnal pleasure to let her put an incompetent, charming, handsome fool in charge of an army. Just so she could have young, energetic flesh at hand. Bethel felt the storm clouds gathering once more and tried to dismiss the feeling, to gain the feeling of control back. Well, it was time for reckoning, and maybe her status could be reconciled here in Tharpe. Thomas needed to be put into place where he belonged, back at the bottom of the food chain. He was supposed to be her toy after all.

    Bethel strode up to them giving her Second a raised eyebrow in question. Jen saluted with a fist over here heart, and then Bethel turned to the Sergeant who bowed to her. Bethel frowned at him, at the arrogant smile that dared to play across his beardless face. She wanted to slap him for the bloodshed today but control was, after all, what she was after.

    ¡°Sergeant, we salute our superiors.¡± Bethel corrected him, her voice sharp, cutting like a razor.

    ¡°Oh come, Aunt Bethel, we know each other to good for that. We are too familiar with each other for such formalities.¡± Thomas said dismissively with a sly wink as he grinned expectantly, showing his white teeth off. He reached out caressing her cheek with the backside of his hand intimately. Bethel went rigid and slapped his hand down with stinging force. Her eyes bore into him like to arrow points into his very soul.

    ¡°I am not joking, you will salute or by the Grim, I will have the good Captain here take you out and have you flogged for insubordination.¡± She said with a slightly raised voice as the wind pulled at strands of her loose steel-colored hair. The cold bit at her through the padding under the chain and whipped her cloak around but she did not flinch from her stare. Isobelle broke into a grin next to her and looked expectantly at the Sergeant.

    Thomas¡¯s smile fell as he gave her a cold stare to match the weather and straightened up tall. His fist gave a smart thump to his chest and then he came to a parade rest with his hands behind his back staring straight ahead. Isobelle''s smile faded and was replaced with a slightly pooched lip as she sulked beside her Matron. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the nearest merlon.

    Bethel nodded at him, ¡°Good boy, maybe we will make a good soldier out of you yet. I need a report but first I also need to announce a new commander over all the Garrisons in the city.¡± Bethel said flatly and waited for the certain tantrum that would follow. Thomas''s face drained of all color before flushing bright red as he lost his composure. Isobelle''s lips started to twitch at the ends as she tried to hold in her amusement.

    ¡°There is no such position, each Garrison has its own commander.¡± Thomas protested, his voice sounding not that so unlike a child whose favorite toy was just taken away.

    ¡°There is now, Master Sergeant Wallace was just promoted and you will show him the same respect you give me or the good Captain here, Isobelle, gets to play with you and a whip. As I recall from all my times with you, you are rather fond of whips, aren¡¯t you Thomas.¡± Bethel said pleasantly staring at Thomas, who was now red-faced, straight into his brown eyes. The Sergeant gave a quick nod and backed up a few quick steps. Isobelle¡¯s eyes lit up at the mention of whips.

    ¡°Oh please protest. I haven¡¯t got a chance to break out leathers and whips in months. Please, please, please.¡± Isobelle begged with her hands in front of her. Her blue eyes sparkled with ill-kept anticipation of the possibilities presented in the situation.

    Thomas turned his head away from her, not meeting the eye of either of his superiors. ¡°I will give him my loyalty and respect General.¡±

    ¡°Spoilsport!¡± Isobelle pouted, folding her arms over her chest glaring at the Sergeant.

    Jen cleared her throat with her hand over her mouth uncomfortably. She raised that hand slightly, ¡°Care for that report if you are done embarrassing me now?¡±

    ¡°Yes I would love it,¡± Bethel replied in a happy voice never taking her steely gray gaze of her insubordinate nephew. The wind tore at her cloak fiercely, almost tugging her off balance as she continued to stare her nephew down in the cold sunlight.

    ¡°Well, our situation is not terribly great. In fact, to put it bluntly, it is downright dire. Our headcount stands at five hundred and twenty-two citizens, none of which do we have enough warm clothes for. Of our garrisons, we got full complements from the four in the city and our complement here bringing our count to two hundred and twenty-five. Total, we have a count of seven hundred and forty-seven people in here. Even if there were no wounded, old, sick, dead, or young, we can¡¯t match the numbers outside the walls,--¡±

    ¡°But what of the twenty soldiers we lost on the field, we have their bodies but dead all the same,¡± Thomas interrupted, he was trying to get back some wounded pride by pointing out a major flaw in his superiors count and maybe win some favor back in his lover''s eyes. The Sergeant was positively desperate at this point for something, anything to go right for him today. First, his glory was stolen from him by the people, then his position usurped by his second-in-command, and then his bed-mate cast him aside like a soiled rag. Bethel''s eyes hardened once more no sooner than the words had left Thomas''s lips.

    ¡°Their souls have not been convened to the Grim by a reaper, therefore they are still with us and are still accounted for. We continue to always care for our people, dead or living until they are with the Grim. You would do well to remember that one since it is the reason this whole damn town is at our throat right now.¡± Bethel explained with a voice as hard as the Roldem steel she wore, ¡°If you interrupt one more time you will be flogged and busted to private, shoveling jakes for the remainder of your career.¡±

    ¡°The outside forces stand at eight hundred and growing at my last count but I cannot be accurate. Things are too chaotic outside these walls for accurate counts. At best, those numbers are educated guesses. I saw Wallace reinforcing the gates. I doubt they will ram through them, not with the handheld ones they have been using.¡±

    ¡°He said much the same,¡± Bethel agreed with a wisened nod of her head.

    ¡°Wallace was a good pick to lead the men. He has been waiting since before Thomas for a promotion.¡± Jen said meaningfully. Bethel winced as the words made an impact with her heart. She had passed up Corporals Wallace and Thad for promotions for Thomas, who was yet a private, just to have Thomas readily available. Wallace never did anything spiteful in retribution but instead continued to serve faithfully.

    ¡°It was a long time coming and well deserved,¡± Bethel said sadly and motioned for Jen to continue.

    ¡°When the Temple was built, before the Grim blessed this house with the Grim-Ward two hundred years ago, the gates were built to withstand ogres. They will have to be more creative than handheld rams to get through them. We have been pushing off siege ladders all morning, hence these fine people with long poles but to tell the truth, they have everything they need to take down the walls and when they do, we don¡¯t have the numbers to defend.¡± Jen finished her report.

    ¡°What is our food supplies like? If our walls and gate hold, they need a ten to one just to make it fair. How long can we hold?¡± Bethel scratched her head thoughtfully. There had to be a way out of this.

    ¡°That is the worst part, they only have to wait the better part of a month and we will be starved out. We just don¡¯t have the provisions for a protracted siege. They do, they have a whole damn city! Normally it is the ones on the outside that are in hardship. They would have had to establish supply lines and scavenge raw materials. But here we are bottled up in the most defensible location in Tharpe and now it is our tomb because all our supplies are in the enemy''s hands.¡± Jen clenched her hand in frustration. The necromancer felt like crying but knew it would accomplish nothing. Her Matron expected better of her and she would be damned to the Planes of Chaos eternally before she would give Thomas the pleasure of it.

    ¡°Well then we will just have to do something about that,¡± came a deep, familiar baritone behind them. Thomas turned and his eyes rolled up in his head as he fell to the cobblestone battlement below, while the three women ran and hugged the big dark-haired stranger around his neck. He wrapped his arms around his three wives and kissed each on their foreheads.

    ¡°Oh my dears, what a mess we have here but we can sort it.¡± the Grim said soothingly, kissing each in turn fondly on top of their heads, ¡°Now, I have a family member I have not seen. Where is this son of mine.¡±

    Bethel looked up at her immortal husband in horror, her steely eyes wide in fear.

 Chapter Ten

    Damon sat in a cell in the outer Temple where they kept their prisoners in the days of old gone by. The guard had placed him here hurriedly after they had finally made it in the walls. He lay down bored on the musty, straw-covered floor with little to do now, but at least he got to kill that redheaded bitch, Lindsey before they made the walls. The satisfaction of choking that copperhead wench, with the chains around his wrist, was just too much to resist. Of course, the guard he killed was an accident that he felt little remorse for. That big idiot Salvo shouldn¡¯t have tried to stop him from choking the life out of that demon in disguise.

    Damon didn¡¯t mean to hit him hard enough with his black iron manacles to kill him, but the chains were thicker than they looked. Now he was back in a prison cell like he was going anywhere. Everybody outside these Temple walls and most the people inside this newly designated mausoleum wanted to see him dead. He wasn¡¯t exactly a flight risk. If they had just asked for his opinion, he wanted to be behind these bars for once in his short life, for his own safety.

    Damon could hear the thudding through the cool, damp stone of the iron reinforced wooden gate, and he shook his head. They could knock all day long on that gate, and it wouldn¡¯t bust through. Part of his education as a child here at the Temple had consisted of the History of the East. Old Matron Suz had lectured him through those sleepy-eyed days, on the construction of this Temple and the great battles that had been fought here. These were not great men like Gras the Bold, who tried to unite to East a hundred and fifty years ago. No, they were merely peasants with pitchforks, screaming obscenities from the streets.

    They would not conquer this Temple, but they would starve them out instead. Everyone in this Temple would not die with a weapon in their hand but instead a whimper for food in their mouths. After the walls of Tharpe were built, they never provisioned the Temple for a long term siege, and unfortunately, the first one to starve would be yours truly. He hoped the old tabby striped cat Whiskers died, then maybe at least he would have the chance for a rat or two.

    ¡°Or the cat will be the first thing on my menu.¡± He mused darkly under his breath.

    The door at the end opened on rusty hinges with a nail-biting squeal, and he saw all three necromancers enter along with a large built, tall man. They walked, silhouetted by the blinding outside light, he couldn¡¯t make out the fourth person. His mother seemed to be giving the man an unusual amount of respect. Damon''s mother respected no man he knew of. Dignitaries across the south were females, and any visiting westerners knew that the East was in the rule of the Temple, matriarchal. He wondered who had made it to the Temple that could be that important. Maybe somebody had come to mediate some peace deal, something that had to do with him. The youth reached up and rubbed his neck, suddenly itchy, as a hemp rope lay there.

    As the man drew closer, Damon could see this man''s features. He would be damned, but it was like looking in a mirror. The gentleman had the same hawk nose, high prominent cheekbones, and dark hair. The part Damon could see different was the disturbingly red glow of the gentleman¡¯s eyes. Damon chuckled if he could do that, there would be no need to hold people up. They would think he was the-- Damon stopped. No! It couldn¡¯t be, his heart thudded hard in his chest. That being was a myth and he was not real. The man in front of him smiled big, as he examined Damon in turn. Damon began to shake violently and turned to find the chamber pot to be sick.

    ¡°Good, I think we fixed that atheism streak dear,¡± The Grim turned to say with a little laugh to the subdued Bethel, ¡°though I am afraid he is in a bit of shock.¡±

    ¡°So he is your son? I did not think it would be possible without you being um, directly involved.¡± Jen said a little embarrassed, biting at her lower lip and twisting her hands behind her back.

    ¡°Technically since I created second-man and I am married to each of you by a vow more sacred than any you will take on the Overworld, then I was, how did you say it, directly involved. The boy is my seed.¡± The Grim said confidently. His eyes danced at the humor of Jen''s statement. He idly lay a hand on his sword eyeing his son, sending Damon into another round of retching.

    ¡°So he will have to be turned reaper like the original seven?¡± Isobelle asked casually, biting into an apple while eyeing the shaking youth in the corner of the cage. Damon looked up from his knees beside the bucket, chains rattling. His face had turned ashen gray, and the bile dripped from his chin. He was shaking his head in protest but couldn¡¯t find his voice. ¡°I can volunteer if you want, husband. I am the youngest and he isn''t exactly going anywhere.¡±

    ¡°NO!¡± Screeched Bethel, finding a voice for him, ¡°I have sacrificed too much for him. I will fight for him.¡±

    She took a low protective stance in front of the cell, her white-knuckled hand on her weapon. Bethel¡¯s eyes were wild with fear and anger, but the words of Isobelle had triggered her. Too long had she protected her son to let anyone else but her punish him.

    The Grim turned his full attention to stare hard at his wife with smoldering red eyes. She slowly buckled under the weight of his will. Bethel trembled as she bowed to her knees and he towered over her.

    ¡°I am quite aware now of what you have been doing for our son. You even took it upon yourself to decide that you could own something you do not understand.--¡± He reached out and put his massive hand upon her graying head like a dark light emitted in a halo around her head, as he spoke in low angry tones ¡°--Bethel, I hereby remove your station as Matron of the Temple at Tharpe, but I am not done with you yet. I am very angry with you, for all the trouble in the East is of your doing, it began with you. Matron Gutrid in Port Hope drowned for you. Sister Freed in Farthest Reach was raped and burned outside of the city, because of you. The atrocities can go on, and you will live out the rest of your days correcting them and chasing Chaos out of the East.¡±

    Bethel wailed an inhuman scream, and black flames licked at her body as the call of Grim came upon her. Her armor disintegrated, puddling to the stones around her and by the time her instructions were done being implanted into her soul, she lay naked and blackened on the stone. The smell of burned hair and brimstone permeated the air in the jail. Damon pressed himself back into the corner of the cell, hiding in fear. ¡°Arise, for, from this day, you are no longer my wife.¡± The Grim declared with a slash of his hand as if to cut the bond of marriage, ¡°You are a new creature, a Zealot of Grim and you shall fight until you are dead, against all aspects of evil. You shall ever be a fanatic for the Order of the universe.¡±

    Jen and Isobelle sobbed as they huddled against the wall. The two necromancers clung to each other in fear before the anger of their husband. Damon sat in the corner of the cell shivering in wide-eyed horror, trying in vain to hide in the darkest corner he could find. This display of power went against everything he ever believed and Damon was on the brink of insanity. His entire life revolved around the belief in the physical world. The life ended and that was it. This display, among the spiderwebs and roaches, had forever changed his views of the possibilities of the universe.

    ¡°Jen,¡± The Grim said softly, motioning to his cowering wife near the cage door, ¡°come forward.¡± Jen let go of Isobelle to reluctantly walk forward softly to stand beside the naked huddled figure of her former matron laying on the floor in a pile of ash and crying. Jen looked down at Bethel in fear. She had known about Bethel¡¯s actions, her infidelity and had done nothing. She was an accomplice. Surely this was her fate too. The Grim laid a hand gently on her left hand, and a warmth filled with knowledge and power inundated her. A gentle white light haloed her in the mirror of the event that took Bethel''s power from her. The Grim started to speak in loving tones.

    ¡°Jen, to you, I promise you are the most beloved of Tharpe. Promise to fulfill the role of protector and shepherd. I won¡¯t lie; I know the Temple will fall. But it is a building, rebuild it, promise.¡± His red eyes bore into her teary green eyes.

    ¡°I promise, they can take this cold stone fortress, but they cannot take the Temple.¡± She promised, turning to her sister, ¡°Isobelle you will be my second. We need to deal with that prisoner. He is just going to take food.¡±

    ¡°Just give him an exit out of the Temple,¡± Isobelle replied with a sardonic grin, making walking motions off a wall with her fingers. Her fist came down with a resounding meaty smack into her fist that echoed into the darkness. The torches sputtered in silence as Damon''s breathing quickened again in the realization of the necromancer''s answer to him. He grabbed the bars as he backed in tighter to the corner where he stood.

    ¡°Yes, we do need to deal with him,¡± The Grim said with a smile. He gestured at the door, and it opened. He walked in to stand before his human son. Damon gathered his scattered wits and stood up from the bars, trembling before the Grim. His iron chains clanked, echoing against the stone walls but he stood as tall as he could, shivering in the damp cold. The impressions left from the bars could be clearly seen against his bare back and his face remained drained of color but he stood yet firm.

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t worry I don¡¯t need another reaper at the moment boy,¡± the Grim smiled reaching out to tussle his short dark hair as if he were a little boy of only five winters. Damon flinched away, glaring indignantly at the Grim. He was standing with as much dignity as one could if you stood naked before your creator.

    ¡°So what do you need with me, oh long lost father of mine¡± Damon snapped in a shaky voice, trying to sound bold and sarcastic but it came out more like a mouse squeak.

    ¡°You will show the creator more respect-¡° Jen started to rebuke Damon for his insolence against the All-Father when Grim held his hand up for her silence her wrath. The Grim cocked his head ever so slightly and smiled before continuing.

    ¡°No, he is right to question where I have been. After all the atrocities he has seen committed in my name, I am surprised he has wits enough to question me.¡± The Grim said gently, half to Jen and half to Damon. He focused his red eyes thoughtfully on his son and then spoke, ¡°Damon, I did not even know of your existence and count fate lucky that I didn¡¯t or else I would have slit your infant throat myself before you received your soul.--¡± Damon backed up against the wall, getting tangled into some chains attached to the mortar there. He was trying somehow to see a way to defend himself against this murderous immortal, who was talking of slitting his throat, while naked. ¡°--But that would be a good thing Damon, the Voice of Order gave me a prophecy about you.¡±

    The Grim said as he turned around and placed his broad back to the smaller version of him at the end of the cell with cool indifference. He gave a snap of his fingers, and the rivets in Damon¡¯s manacles grew red and melted out, but the bands remained a black, cold iron. Damon released his chains with a rattle that echoed around the dark cell and rubbed the raw spots that had formed on his ankles and wrist. The youth stared in wonder at the powerful being who could perform such powerful feats. It is not that Damon had never seen or killed sorcerers. On the contrary, it was his standard practice to identify and kill them first but never had he seen one perform powerful spells like they were Fifth Circle cantrips. His brain screamed for him to run while the coast was clear, but his heart wanted the answers that it had always yearned for. The Grim''s voice drew him in further into a careful trap being laid for the young man as the immortal soothed the frightened beast inside him.

    ¡°I hear you like to prey upon others, hunt them. It¡¯s not about the money, is it? You have quite an enterprise going here or had should I say.¡± The Grim corrected himself almost forgetfully and then continued on as he turned to give him a sarcastic smile, ¡°You had quite the life, why you were even going to get married before you got arrested. Did I get that right?¡± The Grim talked like he was talking to an old friend in a tavern. In that casual, off-handed way, instead of speaking as if they were in a urine drenched cell to a condemned son. Damon felt the tension rolling off him like water. He wondered if it was another trick like his manacles and he was trying to resist. The Grim wanted something, and Damon wanted to be on his guard to know what. The youth was a master manipulator himself and steeled himself against the efforts to drain his will. He located a sharp stone and pressed on it, wincing in pain. The Grim glanced his direction, nodding in approval.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ¡°I don''t know. You tell me. You seem well informed. Where did you hear all this?¡± Damon asked, silently cursing the sharp rock. ¡°No one has seen you in near two hundred years that I know of.¡±

    The Grim''s red eyes flared a little as he stared at his son, ¡°I have been around, I try not to make a big spectacle when I am on the Overworld. I am a caregiver to both worlds, not a god. It tends to be easier when people are not tripping over themselves, bowing, and doing all the ¡®your grace''s¡¯ things.¡± The Grim smirked as he walked forward and laid a hand over Damon¡¯s black eyes and muttered a few words. Damon screeched loudly and reeled backward blindly, running into the back wall and falling to the ground with a fleshy smack. The young man got to his feet, swearing curses that would make most soldiers look like the silent monks of Drevalin.

    ¡°Damn! What in the name of all the demons and reapers did you do to me!¡± Damon screamed angrily, holding the injuries he had sustained from the day before. He held up a hand angrily to the Grim showing him the blood smeared on it, ¡°I had just got them to stop bleeding. Shit that hurt!¡±

    The Grim eyed his hand speculatively and shrugged, waving at the bloodied hand before him. The immortal''s eyes gleamed with humor as he reached up to give his son a playful tussle of his short, black hair before patting Damon''s head.

    ¡°I helped a power along that is your inheritance. So you could meet the being who told me all about your exploits and past.¡± The Grim was smiling a silly grin, waiting to see if Damon could guess at any particular person who would know the things that the Grim had mentioned. As Damon stared at him, bewildered, the Grim gestured with a small flourish of his hand, to directly behind the young man. ¡°Try not to faint, my boy, but this is Rascus, your biological seed. I don''t believe you will recognize him. Your worldly father has lost some weight since you last saw him, I do believe.¡± The immortal chuckled a little, as he continued, ¡°You could say he was the tool and I am the Father.¡± Damon¡¯s eyes tried to focus on the point where the Grim had gestured as he turned. His eyes were no longer black, but in the center of the pupils, a prick of red now danced, like a flame on the end of a candle. A bone finger reached and tapped him on the shoulder slightly as the skeleton sought his attention.

    Damon''s mouth gaped open and closed rapidly as he backed up. The apparition gave him a slight wave and a familiar voice echoed forth from its throat. ¡°Hello Damon, it is good you can see me again after all these years. I wish I were in better shape though. I seem to be falling apart. He already had to put me back together once.--¡± The reaper jerked a thumb at the Grim, and the forearm fell off clattering to the floor. ¡°--For the love of all the damn demons, Grim can¡¯t you fix this!¡±

    The skeleton fell to its knees, making an awful racket, that echoed around the prison, as he attempted to reattach his missing limb. Jen and Isobelle could no longer hold back the laughter as the reaper cursed and complained about the abuse of power. Damon started to sway as his world slowly fell apart. An hour ago, immortals, reapers, demons, they had all been part of a myth in his little world. Up was up and down was down, and death was final. His sanity slowly unwound and his black eyes rolled up in the backside of his head. His naked body slowly sank back against the stone wall and the to the littered, dirty floor with a thunk.

    The reaper looked over from his work, ¡°Um, was that supposed to happen?¡±

    ¡°Most of the time, if it does not, they are probably a sorcerer.¡± Jen said sympathetically, ¡°Almost every single aspiring necromancer faints when they first meet the Grim or a reaper. It does something to one''s sanity.¡±

    The reaper muttered as he fit the rest of the digits on his hand and stood with a rattle, looking expectantly towards his Master. The Grim grinned widely as he stared down at his collapsed son huddled on the floor. He reached over gripping the reaper on the shoulder and giving him a jarring shake.

    ¡°Good job guys,¡± he congratulated them as the reaper grasped desperately to the nearest wall for support, ¡°He is the wolf, who is not a wolf. Please have him taken from here and dressed. He needs to be in the war council in an hour.¡±

    ¡°What do we do with Bethel, Sire,¡± asked the new Matron, looking down at her friend of seventeen years. Bethel was huddled on her hands and knees, whimpering to herself in feral tones. Jen and Isobelle bent and helped her rise to her feet unsteadily. They dare not brush her off nor show sympathy to one who had been personally punished by their Husband. They stood at her elbow, grasping her blackened arms tightly, ignoring their friend''s naked breast, hanging unglamorous, on display before them. There would be no move to clothe her unless commanded, walks of atonement were not uncommon within the Temple. Though she had been a friend once, now she was condemned by the All-father.

    ¡°She is still one of our warriors--¡± The Grim said softly, his eyes looking gently at his once wife. Jen let out a relieved breath as both of the necromancers relaxed their grips. ¡°--just an elite one who has a special job that will end in a special way. Dress her in heavier armor and give her weapons. She needs to be in the war council too. One hour Folks, One hour in the Judgment Hall.¡± The Grim repeated as he was walking away, his footsteps echoing off into the darkness the enclosed him rapidly.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Isobelle called at him as he reached the door, only a bare shadow of his broad shoulder''s visible in the flickering torchlight.

    ¡°I need to find three more people of prophecy.¡± The Grim said pulling the protesting door open and disappeared into a rush of bright light and cold wind. He blinked his red eyes as they adjusted to the mid-winter sunlight outside and listened to the men around him. The sound of orders being shouted over the roar of the crowded Temple courtyard and an occasion twang of bowstring from the wall as his eyes cleared. The Grim thought for a moment and decided to trust an instinctive feeling he had. Mounting a nearby stairwell, he carefully crunched some crusty ice underfoot as he scaled the stone parapet.

    As the Grim walked he felt pulled along the wall to the south. The All-Father didn¡¯t know who he was looking for, but the immortal trusted fate''s will. The voice had never let him down in the past and he trusted that balance and Order would see the needed few gathered this day. In one hour, they would discuss how they would pull off this impossible fight. Never had he seen mortals aligned in a more impossible struggle but unless there was direct interference from Chaos here, he was not allowed to do anything about the events as they transpired. These restrictions always left the Grim feeling more powerless than powerful. People called him the All-Father and Omnipotent but here he could not even stop a siege. Even an apprentice sorcerer carried more of an ability to affect the outcome of this fight than he did. The Grim didn¡¯t want to tell them, but he sensed the power of a great practitioner here and there was not a thing their immortal protector could do about it. Even if they were not outnumbered four to one, the Sorcerer tilted the odds twenty to one.

    There was no taking the Great City of the Lake back, but there was the option of a fighting retreat. He walked along the tops of the wall, the cold winds of winter blowing in his face as he smelled the musky smell of Lake Dim. The Grim looked out between two merlons at the tossing lake in the distance. The winter sun did little to warm his skin in the frigid sun. The Grim looked lovingly out at his world. It was near his birthday, oh what was he this year. Five hundred and fifty thousand years old, he shook his head, sometimes he lost all track of time. It was easy for him, only on the Overworld did time matter. In all other Planes of existence, this thing the mortals called time, it just did not exist. Sometimes, he would go centuries and then need to consult one of his servants to find the date. The passage of this mysterious force would march on, both of them seemingly unaware of each other. Well, if the prophecy was right, that harmony would end and both he and time would become all too well acquainted on this trip. Up ahead, the parapet turned into the battlements and continued around the entire wall. It was here, near the gatehouse, he saw a group of soldiers pointing at something beyond the wall and yelling at each other. There was pushing and shoving as they tried to decide who would be responsible for what was happening.

    The Grim picked up his long strides to see what the commotion was being caused by. Over the tops of the soldier''s heads, The Grim could see three people being tied to eight-foot wooden stakes in a bare courtyard just outside of bow shot. Several archers stood at the ready, with arrows knocked, awaiting orders from the standing corporals. The woman had been beaten and looked haggard, the younger male was bleeding from nose and mouth, and the giant of a man had been stabbed once in a non-vital spot. The people around him seemed to know who these poor souls were and they argued over the course of actions that should be taken to ensure the safety of the plighted prisoners. A man in plain farmer''s clothes and another man, in more opulent clothing, stepped forward. A few arrows loosed but fell short, clattering to the stones a few paces before the pair. The man in the farmer''s clothes held up a finger and shook it slowly at the wall, pointing meaningfully at the prisoners. When he spoke, the Grim felt a surge of power, marking the gentleman standing next to him as the sorcerer that the Grim had felt when he had arrived. The Grim''s eyes narrowed as he stared at the proceedings.

    ¡°I have Faldo, Son of Victor merchant of Doldrom. My own disowned daughter Cariline, Betrothed of Damon, and Marlin, Blacksmith and Beloved of Bethel, Mother Matron of the Temple. For one night they will sit on display for all to see and in the morning, we shall execute them publicly to show all that we do to any associated with The Grim or the Temple. We are here to create a new way and new land that is truly free, and this is the manner of our resolve. We do not care about your relation or status; we care only for freedom from tyranny and false beliefs. All who renounce both the belief in the Grim and the Temple and swear fealty to me will be spared; otherwise, all will be cleansed, man woman and babe. No quarter will be given.¡± The man finished and backed away, smiling again, a long leering smile, at the Temple he meant to throw down.

    The Grim glared at the man and then looked at the prisoners again; there was just something about them. He could feel something about the auburn-haired female, smell some small hormones. He thudded to a stop momentarily. This battered and beaten woman was the betrothed of his son. Could she possibly be carrying his grandson child? He groaned inwardly. So that¡¯s what the prophecy meant, bearer of a great line. He wondered if his son was even aware that he was a father but no time for that right now. This complicated things, not only did they have to wage a winning battle to escape a tomb but they had to do so to rescue three people too. If that was her then the disciple the Grim needed was with her and so was the man of constant sorrow. They would be the faithful who would return Order to this continent. They would return him to his Judgment Throne, or Chaos would reign. He hoped they would be a little more understanding than Damon. What would fate be like in the hands of the atheist, that thought made him shudder.

    Grim arrived at the Judgment Hall to find everyone waiting on him. The Matron Chair had been removed, and a long oaken table had been brought in with a map of Tharpe spread out on it. Wallace, Thomas, Bethel, Jen, Isobelle, Damon, and Thad were already talking around it. They were pointing to different sections of town and the defensible possibilities. The Grim stepped into the hall without so much drawing the eye of Jen. He relished at this moment. It was not often he got to observe his creations in their element. In moments like this, he would be able to see them and all their glory, the way he designed them to be. He leaned back on the wall, letting his red eyes fall on each and every face, taking in the emotions that he saw there. Hope, love, rage, despair, anger, second-man were filled with such passion. Maybe that is what drove him that fate-filled night to mate with his original wives.

    Lost in his musings, he decided to sit and listen. Let them have their hopes. Maybe one of them would have a good head on their shoulders and would recognize the situation for its worth. The All-Father did not want to have to dash such beautiful hope against the rocks of eternal despair.

    ¡°If we can get out in the night and burn the food stores around town that will help things along faster,¡± Thomas suggested pointing to some silos on the map on Farmerton Way.

    ¡°No,¡± Wallace rejected it solidly, his shaking head sending his black beard sailing. ¡°The only thing you do then is make them desperate, and desperate men become unpredictable. That is more dangerous than any army in the world.¡±

    ¡°You know,¡± Jen said admiringly, ¡°Bethel made the right choice in elevating you over the Garrisons, Wallace. What would you suggest.¡±

    ¡°Really Matron?¡± Wallace asked. Jen nodded with a serious look, ¡°First, we need to put weapons in the hands of any person that can stand upright and have the strength to wield them.¡±

    Jen nodded encouragingly, Her heart-shaped face bowed in deep thought. ¡°Even if it is a cudgel that should swell our numbers from two hundred living to what, four hundred and fifty--¡± Wallace nodded, ¡°--That makes things a little more even defensible speaking. What next.¡±

    The Grim knew he would not have to be the one to shoot down everyone¡¯s best intentions. This man, this brilliant commander before him, understood just how dire the situation was. He shifted his back on the rough, cold stone and gave the short, stocky man his full attention. The Grim had faith that this Commander had his dashing club out and ready to strike at the heart of hope itself.

    ¡°That¡¯s the part you don¡¯t want to hear Matron. I am a soldier, a man of simple thought, so I look at plain hard facts. I know our food stocks can¡¯t hold us a month. We are fighting a losing fight. The only way for us to win is to lose. We need to burn Tharpe to the ground.¡±

    Everybody started to argue at once, but Grim shouted them down in his deep baritone and nodded for Wallace to continue knowing he was on the right track, ¡°Tonight when they are not expecting it, we use those fire arrows and start lighting roofs on fire. It will take a while; things have been damp. We will need the Infantry on the walls to protect the archers. At first, they might try to attack in mass. We hold the advantage in that fight. After the city really starts to catch, they will abandon the fight. The people out there want the Temple gone but the city to remain, so we burn it to the ground. They will be so busy trying to put it out they won¡¯t try to stop us from leaving. On our way out, we light fire cask, as many as we have, and roll them down streets as we go. Then we lock the gates when we leave, trapping everyone else inside. Let them have the burning city, all to themselves¡± the Master Sergeant said with a vicious smile.

    The Grim applauded approvingly, ¡°I like this man, I really do. All though there is one hitch. While we are all being pyromaniacs tonight, We will have to rescue my grandchild.¡± The Grim gave a long look to the bewildered Damon.

 Chapter Eleven

    The Sorcerer sat meditating in the suite he had commandeered from the closest thing the East had to nobility. Even the ¡°Lady¡± Thewar was drunken tramp, nothing compared to the delicate court flowers back in civilization. The room was crude but clean and warm. By all standards, it was lavish for this backwoods city. In the greatest of the Free Cities, Salastar, it would hardly suffice for a peasant. There were only two rooms to this suite, hardly fitting for long-term use and it didn¡¯t even have its own private jakes, just a chamber pot but it would do. The Sorcerer wrinkled his nose at the crude, feces-filled container. He used too much energy keeping the damnable thing empty and with the latest developments, he dared to waste any more of that precious commodity. The fireplace was placed on an inside wall to keep it warm. The luxurious red Federation rugs were made from the wool of the Claisdane sheep, down near Wolfsbane. The wool was coveted for its quality of never losing its fluff, the downside was the color. The longevity of the wool was due to a chemical inside of it. After sheering, it turned red and stayed that way. All Claisdane rugs were blood red, making forgeries a problem. It felt good on his old feet, and the down-filled bed gave him sufficient rest to recover his energy levels.

    The siege on Tharpe had gone much better than could be expected. Whoever this felon was, had a reputation of unsavory standing among the more influential and prominent families. It made him pause for a moment when he heard that a necromancer had a child. It had to be conjecture, an orphan taken in for charity. Since the War of the Brothers, none of the Wives of Grim had born a child. It was forbidden. Whoever this criminal was, the hatred among those people had been deep-set.

    He had been communicating with the Circle back in Salastar about preparation to set up a new council in the East after the fool, Fredrick, had done all the heavy lifting for him. That is when he felt an energy surge, unlike anything he had ever felt before and then a presence beyond the power of a mortal, even beyond the power of his great master, the immortal Lich Delver. The feeling in his chest had almost collapsed him in the midst of the conference.

    He had sent a thought quickly before the powerful being could recuperate, to his Master. Because as the name implied, Master Delver loved to dig for ancient knowledge and would know who this mysterious stranger was. As old a the Lich was, second-man¡¯s history spanned forty times even his ancient life span. Delver had spent his thousands of years collecting bits of the past, in order to see it more clearly, both out of necessity and curiosity. Every sorcerer worked to free the world of the Purpose of Order. When his Master passed into immortality, he gained the true blessing of Chaos.

    The night in the city churned on outside his window. The sounds reaching up through the stained glass window nearby with sounds of the nightlife. The sorcerer closed his eyes with minor irritation as he continued to meditate in the candlelit room, with the shadows dancing about on the soft, dark, wooden walls. Now all he had to do was wait. He had set aside the stuffy old robes that these dolts expected a sorcerer to be wearing and had put on his more comfortable rich blue doublet and lavender leggings. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the Symbol of Life patiently awaiting his Master¡¯s reply.

    The Sorcerer had cast an incantation to try to protect against scrying, but he could not guarantee he was not being watched against the power of this individual. Next to but a few, there were no mortals he feared, that was why the Council sent him. The Sorcerer walked among those of the First Circle and of that circle, he was the most powerful mortal in a century. When battling the Purpose of Death, it was best not to send a novice. The Purpose of Death and Order was potent in the hands of the necromancers.

    His previous master had been powerful, from a long line of magical inheritance. Magical inheritance was the practice of absorbing another¡¯s soul into one¡¯s body. With it came the tantalizing promise of the power their soul contained. Depending on how long the line had continued, how many times the souls had been passed previous, would determine on power gained. It was the only way to increase one''s power. A person by themselves only contained a finite amount of energy. Even someone with a very powerful soul would be no match for someone who had absorbed the essence of another. There were risks, like with anything in life, no guarantee of success. Like a vessel, everyone could contain varying amounts before rupturing. There was no test, no way to tell before the inheritance. It was a risk for both the master and the apprentice. If the apprentice failed to contain his master¡¯s gift, both would be greeted by the reapers.

    When he had absorbed his master''s essence, he thought his mind would burst from the energy swell that took him. He lay comatose for two days afterward in his master¡¯s study before he came back from the brink of insanity. His master had battled for control over the body and had he not come out on top; then his master would be sitting here, now on his third body. The younger sorcerer had won out. The young apprentice had not been warned by the dying master but now knew if he were strong enough, he too would live another life in his apprentice. That is if he could find the person to be the first to inherit twelve souls. That had never been done in the history of Sorcery. No, he sighed with resignation, if he could not complete the lich transformation, then he would be greeting the Grim in just a few decades.

    The Circle glowed, and he sensed oncoming energies. He concentrated on the ¡°feel¡± of the owner¡¯s signature. It was his master. He had projected his image. That was something that was very taxing, especially at this distance of nearly three hundred leagues away. His Master¡¯s presence waited outside the shielding walls of the Circle of Life. Without invitation, Delver would be unable to make an entrance into it.

    ¡°Master come in,¡± He invited him into the Circle of protection, ¡°I require your wisdom.¡±

    A skeleton wearing a short coat with a tie and a short pair of pants tucked into a high pair of boots walked into the Circle. Master Delver, outside the Grim, was the oldest being known on this continent. It was rumored he had seen the star fall from the sky that created the Western Sea ten thousand years ago. The sorcerer bowed deeply to a knee and waited for the word to rise before his master.

    ¡°Rise Sedrick,¡± Master Delver commanded in a rasping voice that sounded like wind through dead leaves, ¡°You were right to call for me. Although if what you felt was true, this little circle of yours will not stop the being you felt.¡±

    There was no contempt in his Master¡¯s voice as Delver waved a gloved hand at the glowing circle around them. He was merely stating a fact. It left Sedrick wondering who the marvelous person could be, outside the Lich, Sedrick was the most powerful living sorcerer on the continent. If the headmaster died without completing his transformation, Sedrick would be the second most powerful being. Well, that was until a few hours ago when this mysterious stranger appeared.

    ¡°Who could contain such power? No Necromancer I know. They do not practice inheritance. To them it is blasphemy not to be reborn, to put off the Judgement.¡±

    ¡°It is the All-Father, The Grim. Both of us combined are of no match to him. He could end us with a twitch of a smile, for he combines both Purposes when he cast his version of sorcery. No mortal may do that. We are not permitted to mix life and death, Order and Chaos.¡± The Lich paced back and forth in deep thought, ¡°But we have him in the open. This is the first time in two centuries anyone has seen him or felt the Grim. Not even when we took the Free Cities and slaughtered his precious wives, did he show his face. We can¡¯t let this opportunity slide.¡±

    Sedrick slammed his fist into a waiting palm with a resounding fleshy crack, ¡°Then we must capitalize on it.¡±

    ¡°Nor will we youngling, his death will be ensured this very night.¡± The lich looked out the window at the bustling city below. The looting was in full force as the houses were ransacked from the army within the walls. Sedrick smiled with anticipation, rubbing his hands together with the anticipation of the moment of the death of the Grim. ¡°Keep the siege going. I will provide you with a map that we took from the Temple in Salastar when we sacked it and a powerful incantation. It is difficult and might even sap too much energy and stop your heart, but it will surely collapse the Gatehouse where the Portal is located. The Temples are mostly constructed with the same design and this should suffice. The Portal itself cannot be destroyed; it is beyond even your power. But we can bury it. The Grim will perish, for he cannot make another Portal in three days.¡± The Lich turned to stare at his sorcerer in his red eyes. Sedrick backed up, putting his hands forth as if to ward against the assignment. When he imagined the death of the Grim he had not imagined him being the sacrifice for that said death. Sweat beaded up on his shaved head as his Master¡¯s hollow eyes followed him.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°But Master surely there is another way, I don¡¯t want to be the sacrament..¡± Sedrick stammered rapidly.

    ¡°Sedrick, always remember, I am the immortal because I feared death not. If you get the privilege someday to join me, you must prove you are ready to die first. To become a lich surely you must beat death itself, are you afraid?¡± The Lich taunted him, the green dots that were his eyes were following the lower sorcerer.

    ¡°Yes Master,¡± Sedrick sighed, his body wracked with tremors, ¡°send them to me and let us finish this. The eons of fighting will be at the end finally.¡±

    ¡°Good look for me in the morning, put forth a Circle before dawn,¡± Master Delver gave a wave of his skeletal hand and disappeared.

    Sedrick sighed and went to find Fredrick. He had to convince the imbecile to launch an offensive tomorrow morning. He needed as the Grim¡¯s attention elsewhere when he tried his hand at whatever his Master had for him. He walked down the stairwell and found him sitting in the common room, already well on his way to being inebriated with the ¡°Lady¡± Thewar. They had kicked back, with their boots upon the large table and a half-empty tankard in their hand. They had one ale barrel empty and a second broached. He waved Sedrick over and lifted him a bronze pot in salute to him.

    ¡°Sedrick, my friend,¡± Fredrick slurred, ¡°We are drinking to our victory. Care for a glass or two?¡±

    Sedrick gave a sniff in their general direction and steered towards another table and took a seat after brushing it off. He reached up a hand to smooth his goatee in irritation. How was he supposed to continue a siege when both of his leaders were drunken soots. Sedrick snorted with disgust.

    ¡°Ahh don¡¯t be such a sour puss over there dearie,¡± The Lady Thewar purred patting her ample lap, ¡°Come over here and have some celebration, then later we¡¯ll have more private celebrations. I have always loved a man with a goatee.¡±

    She got up and stumbled over and pet his meticulously trimmed black goatee. He jerked away and caught her hand glaring at her. She looked offended at him and reached up to lift her breast, letting it fall to jiggle in the sorcerer¡¯s face. Sedrick jerked his head away, giving the Lady a small shove.

    ¡°What you don¡¯t prefer these. Well, I am sorry; there is no sausage in this factory.¡± She turned and looked at Fredrick waggling a finger at his crotch, ¡°I guess he¡¯s your customer tonight. Always thought he leaned that way, especially with that shaved, shiny head. Stinking unechs.¡± Everyone in the room burst into drunken laughter except Fredrick and the sorcerer, who glared at each other. The hatred ran deep between the two and the only thing that kept one of them alive was the common goal of the destruction of the East.

    The Sorcerer got up and took the tankards away from the two ¡°leaders¡± of the army and threw the metal pots in the ale cask with a splash, the ale lapping over onto the floor in dark splotches.

    ¡°Hey you ruined the ale, now it will be no good.¡± The Lady pouted.

    ¡°I know,¡± Sedrick said with a certain amount of satisfaction in his quiet voice, ¡°This celebration is a little premature. There is a reason you brought me, remember. To warn you if a certain someone showed up when you attacked his house. Or was that all for show and are the Council¡¯s services no longer needed?¡± He left that to hang in the air for a few moments. He knew it would take their drunk minds a little time to process the information and then slowly one by one. He saw realization dawn on the people around the room.

    Fredrick¡¯s face went white as a shade, ¡°I honestly thought he was just a myth! What can we do now? Not even the full Council of Sorcerers can stop him!¡±

    ¡°We will execute the prisoners in the morning and attack a full out assault on that heap of rocks.--¡± Sedrick said from his seat across the room, a smug smile settled on his face as he got to remind them who was really calling the shots on this rebellion, ¡°--I have already talked to the Sorcerer Council, and they are providing me with a layout of the Temple of Tharpe and an exceptional spell.¡±

    With the mention of an all-out assault on the Temple, a fortress that had been built to withstand the wilds of the early east, Fredrick looked like a man ready to faint. His skin greyed, losing the red from the spirits as he processed what he had just heard. All the joy of the celebration was lost, jubilation was now replaced with the stark terror of death.

    ¡°An all-out assault! Are you insane? Even in the worst of conditions, the defenders still hold an advantage. Every one man they have is as good as ten of ours. That means we need four thousand men to have an equal fight.¡± Fredrick bellowed, his voice growing with volume. As his gravelly voice grew louder, he emphasized his fear by getting to his feet with a little weave. He was using his hands in an exaggerated effort, waving them in wide circles, to get his point across. His eyes were as wild as his wispy grey hair, giving his protest a comic appearance.

    ¡°It is necessary to make a sacrifice for the diversion, so I have time for the spell. One day of an all-out assault for permanent freedom.¡± Sedrick said in rap elation, the importance of his Master¡¯s task dawning on him. He gave them a beatific smile that sent shivers down Thewar¡¯s bodice. She did not do well with either branch of religion. The only reason she was associating with him, he could help her get what she needed most in this sick world, revenge.

    ¡°What does this spell do?¡± The Lady Thewar inquired in a small, tentative and curious voice.

    ¡°We are going to kill the Grim¡± Sedrick said maliciously.

    The Mother Matron came up beside Wallace on the battlements, her hand resting easily on the pommel of the sword that hung at her side and looked out on the city, watching the smoke curl up from the remains of the houses that burned earlier that day. They just stood there quietly, neither needing to put to words the horror before them. The three prisoners stood against the cold brisk wind coming off Lake Dim, in the smoke-filled street, shivering, visible only for the burning houses near them. Wallace then placed a hand on his General¡¯s armored shoulder with unusual gentleness.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry Jen. I will get your nephew off that damn stake out there. I wanted to come up here and check on him. He has always been a close friend of mine. He looks rough.¡± Wallace whispered the informality quietly in her ear.

    Jen¡¯s shoulders gave a little heave as she tried to hold in the sobs. She wiped her green eyes and turned away quickly from her Master Sergeant. Wallace gave a small chuckle with the realization of the vanity of the action. Jen growled and turned back to put a finger in his nose.

    ¡°No offense intended General,¡± He said holding up his hands up in surrender, ¡°But it just occurred to me, if you happened to try to be human instead of above us, then maybe the Temple would be more popular. You know, shit don¡¯t stink.¡± He finished with a small shrug and looked back out at the prisoners that stood tantalizingly out in the darkness. They looked like tortured souls, tied to stakes, with the watchfires cracking around them. Now, all Faldo and company had to do is survive the onslaught of the coming battle, a raging city fire, and a rescue attempt.

    She smiled and gave a small husky laugh and patted him on the shoulder, ¡°You know, I think you are right. I will try to do that in the future. You keep advising like this and I will have the first officer in the East. It would be a sin to waste such good talent elsewhere.¡±

    ¡°Nah, I am just a simple man nothing more.¡± He said waving off the suggestion, taking his vigil back up, looking at the prisoners out just beyond bow shot. They were illuminated by street lamps and had a complement of ten men guarding them.

    ¡°Often, it is simple men that turn the tide. Simple men think practically when everyone else has lost their wits. The ballista you ordered constructed is the perfect example--¡± She pointed back over her shoulder to the siege machine that stood ready for destruction. ¡°--Even before you were more than a corporal, you made a bold move that none of the other Garrisons had made. That ballista may mean the difference between success and death tonight. Now I want that ballista to start hurling some of the firebombs we have out into that city.¡± She gave him a grin, baring her teeth with malice, pointing to some of the distant buildings.

    He turned to her with a look of exaggerated envy, ¡°I have been dying to try just that.--¡± then his face took on a sad look, ¡°--So we start?¡±

    ¡°We do Master Sergeant.¡± Jen took a deep breath to steady herself for the long night, ¡°Muster the troops, I want archers on the walls in five minutes, and I want a troop managing that ballista in ten.¡± She ordered.

    ¡°Aye General Mother,¡± He saluted and bowed and started for the stairs yelling orders at the top of his lungs, ¡°All right archers to the walls and get those fire arrows. I want another thirty men up here with torches to light them. Let¡¯s fire these bastards up.¡±

 Chapter Twelve

    Jen smiled, her arms reaching around and hugging herself, as he went off yelling orders to his troops, the army started scrambling around. The night came alive from the sleepy murk it once was. What was it he compared it too in the meeting earlier that evening? A hive...yes, that was quite fitting with the buzz of activity. The grim-faced, rag-tag army rolled from where ever they managed to find a spot in the crowded courtyard, the groups of them huddled around fires throughout the rectangle that made up the outer bailey. All who had not been assigned to watch were sleeping where they could find a spot in the courtyard. At the sound of the gruff Master Sergeant, the regulars came to quickly, kicking their blankets and started donning their armor. Their years in the military aided them in blocking out the horror of the battle to come. Their counterparts did not have the benefits of such a mentality to draw on. The civilian conscripts rose slower, slightly so, to try as they might to fight for their lives and the lives of their families. Terror clearly stood in most eyes as the dread of fighting against insurmountable odds sank into reality.

    The Master Sergeant had assigned the duty of lighting the arrows to some civilians conscripts. To some of the other civilians, they placed them near buckets of water, so to put out any return fire. As of right now, they were trying to keep the conscripts out of the fighting and in other duties, freeing up the regulars for doing the bloody business. Most of the fighting was to be done in close quarters and though friendly deaths would happen, he wanted to keep them to a minimum. Only trained and disciplined men would fight in the first wave of action. Half the main body lined the broad walk wall of the Temple, weapons in hand, waiting for the archers of the North Garrison to stir the hornet''s nest. The other half they held in reserve, hoping not to need them.

    It would take a couple of hours to set the town ablaze good. The infantry¡¯s job was to come up and surprise the enemy, who managed to top the battlements when the signal was given. The ballista would hopefully provide the defenders with an advantage and speed up the process. The siege machine did put them in an interesting predicament. They had no experienced operators. Some of the guards had operated one in practice, but none of that few had experienced battle.

    They would not have the luxury of time, as in practice. Aiming was not a problem. Demons and Chaos, they had a whole damn city around them! The problem lay with over tensioning the ropes. If that happened then, the tensioner cable could snap and slice men in two. They had too few defenders to kill off them from accidents. That left few enough for arguments of any kind when it came to its operation. Besides, it would be only good for so long before they would need its operators on the walls. He sighed in resignation and continued his inspection.

    Wallace walked through the assembling troops feeling the usual swell of pride and in the back of his mind, he felt the treacherous feeling of despair. He had been through battles before, but never on this scale. The gruff Master Sergeant knew as he inspected the men and women who prepared to fight for their very existence, that some, if not all, would not see another day. He strode quickly towards the front of the assembly and climbed on top of a broken portion of the wall to address his troops.

    ¡°Corporal Thad, I want you with the archers on top of the battlements with the General. Sergeant Howe died from his wounds; they are yours now. Protect her, since the Captain insists on playing with the ballista. Hope she doesn¡¯t mind me speaking frankly, but she is a lucky son of a bitch,¡± Wallace said with a smile at Isobelle, who stuck her tongue out at the short man. She tossed her cropped blonde hair, letting the cheek length strands settle back down, before smiling mischievously at the short commander.

    ¡°I have waited for my twenty-five winters to play with one of those, listening to my dad talk about how fun they are. I am not about to pass up the chance. Now go sulk in the vanguard.¡± She pointed toward the waiting infantry at the gate. The Master Sergeant took on a stricken look, theatrically shaking his head slowly. He was trying to keep it light. All knew this was a desperate plan, one that, if it failed, meant every single one of their deaths. Wallace could see the fear plainly stamped on the faces of even some of his stoutest veterans. A little light-hearted foolery would help ease the tension before the coming battle.

    ¡°Well I guess that about sums it up, I am grounded.¡± Wallace said with mock sorrow, ¡°Thomas will lead the inside defenses in my place. Take orders from the General but mainly keep the idiots outside, well outside. Do not let them breach the walls if possible. I will lead the elite vanguard and rescue our poor friends out there when all hell breaks loose when we leave this place. Everybody ready for the insanity of trying to screw an angry hornet''s nest and somehow not get our cocks stung in the fucking?¡±

    He clapped his hands in front of him looking around at his poorly outfitted army. They had broke furniture for clubs, shredded saddles for leather for armor. They had cut buckets for helmets and raided the pantry for pot lids for some measure of shields. The regulars had their standard chain for infantry that made up the East, West and South Garrisons. Then you had the archers in leather, that made up the North Garrison. The Temple Guard were the elites of Tharpe¡¯s standing army, the ones he would lead. They wore studded but were specially trained with exotic sword fighting, customarily found in the deep Federation capital of Alderananon.

    ¡°I am not your normal commander, so I will not lie. Our chances are slim to make it out. But by the Grim, who does Grace us today, we will make the bastards who slaughtered our mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters and burn them like they were on the plains of Chaos this day. We will keep the reapers busy for the next year, ferrying the sick sons of bitches that we once called family, to see the face of the Immortal Father who witnessed this very battle. Let¡¯s kick some ass.¡± Wallace roared raising his fist.

    The crowd let out a deafening cheer, and Isobelle idly reached over and pulled the ballista handle letting the first fire cask go. Wallace gave her a hard stare. She shrugged idly.

    ¡°Oops--¡± she said with a yawn, ¡°--Must have leaned on it. Sorry Master Sergeant.¡±

    Out in the distance, a building exploded in flames, and the battle began. The arrows started to rain out on the buildings that were in sight; at the start, it seemed to be a futile effort. The bowstrings sang in unison volley, the commander¡¯s voices calling out in cadence to keep a steady rain of arrows falling on their beloved city. The roofs were moss-covered and damp in the winter, but eventually, their song of death kindled the damp wooden shingles into a smoldering state and eventually lit them on fire. The ballista boomed off in intervals sending firebombs lurching into the distance. When they landed, a building would explode into flame. Slowly, one by one, buildings that caught fire brightened the night sky with an angry red glow.

    The Resistance Army charged forward madly towards the looming stone walls of the Temple. With ladders, ropes, poles, anything that could reach the merlons, where they could attempt to put a stop to this insane plan. They ran heedlessly past the prisoners, who seemed all but forgotten in the mad dash. Both Faldo and Marlin watched the new activity with marked interest, while Cariline lay against her restraints heaving sobs that were lost to the battle cries of the night. War had found the streets of Tharpe.

    Jen shouted below for readiness and gave Thomas a nod as she drew her sword. Thomas called his troops to ready as the enemy hit the wall like a wave and started to climb. When the first hand was seen, his Garrisons rushed to meet them. Thomas¡¯s job was to keep them busy on top of the wall until the city was at a total loss. There was little room between the merlons and the archers as Thomas and his men busied themselves with pushing ladders and cutting ropes. They allowed enough men to top the walls to keep the enemy interested but tried not to allow enough to interfere with the archers. Soon though, there were too many ascending the wall to keep up and the fighting grew fierce, neither side wishing to give way. Thomas¡¯s troops were able to hold their own, finally repelling the first wave off the top and earning his troops a respite.

    As they finished pushing the last ladder off the wall, the first flaming arrow came sailing in from somewhere in the city, striking the inner keep wall and shattering. Soon, it was followed by another, this one hitting one of the low thatched roofs in the bailey. Jen ran across the top of the wall walk and leaned on the inner railing.

    ¡°Quickly now, or we are all doomed,¡± she yelled down the orders into the hectic courtyard. One of the civilians whom she had placed in charge of the fire brigade, was already on it. She nodded and turned back to Thomas, ¡°It took them longer than I anticipated thankfully.¡±

    They watched another arrow fly in as the troops outside reorganized themselves for the next rush on the walls. Thomas nodded as his eyes traced another streak that came in through the night sky.

    ¡°For that, I am eternally grateful to them for,¡± He motioned with his bloodstained longsword towards the charging defenders,¡± They are more organized this time. I think they actually mean it.¡±

    ¡°Of course they do dear.¡± She said with a little wink.

    The next wave hit as more defenders came to pick the ladders back up. This time, Thomas ordered stones dropped from above and pitch poured from the walls. Flaming, flailing men and woman ran into the night as torches were dropped onto the pitch and it was ignited. As the ladders eventually topped the wall, Thomas called his line back into battle formation and ordered the attack. They started pushing the ladders off and cutting ropes, but the numbers outside were too formidable. The Sergeant saw his lines buckling under the pressure of the enemy and called back to a waiting runner for reinforcements. The civilians, who had been assigned to other duties, picked up their improvised weapons and climbed the stairs for the fighting above.

    Arrows continued to be streaks of light, great bearers of death, through the night sky proceeding out all around the Temple¡¯s four walls and trails of smoke could be seen as flames started to lick from the wooden shingles around the city. Inside, small fires burned but most were contained and none were a danger to the defenders at the time. Out in the distance, any building hit by a firebomb could be distinguished as a blazing beacon, lighting up the horizon. Thomas¡¯s conscripts came up the stairs to the battlements, struggling in front of the archers and spread to the parapet filling in any place they could. The fighting intensified, and through the heat of battle, Thomas could see the rain of arrows had stopped. Either the supply had run out, or his lines had been pushed back into the line of archers, he was almost ready to call the retreat when he felt a tap on his shoulder, and a bloody streak of steel sang by his head, cleaving a wild-eyed with the sound of the splintering skull of the bearded man Thomas had been fighting.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Need some help?¡± His formal corporal asked, putting his hand on top of the mass of bone, hair, and brain matter, wrenching his sword out with a slight sucking sound.

    ¡°I thought the Vanguard was supposed to stay out of the main fighting?¡± Thomas asked through labored gasp as he wiped the blood out of his left eye. Wallace slashed at a woman, who took his blade with a backhand and fell back to prepare for a counter. She thrust at him, and he sidestepped it, swinging over her thrust catching her across the throat. She dropped her sword, clasping her hand over her throat, a pitiful gurgling coming out of it as she tried to breathe through the hole the Master Sergeant just created. Her eyes slowly glazed as the blood throbbed with her last heartbeat from between her loosely clutched fingers.

    Wiping her blood off his face, Wallace explained to his Sergeant, ¡°Wouldn¡¯t do no good if these walls fall now, would it? Now, let''s push these bastards back off so they can see that their damn precious city is burning down and maybe they will leave us alone.¡±

    Thomas nodded wearily and picked his sword back up and followed his short, stocky commander back into the fray. He was surprised at the agility of the stockier man in battle. Often Wallace would show a burst of speed and nimbleness that defied his stature. Thomas pushed his body harder to suit and rallied the men. The defenders fought fiercely and pushed the Resistance back off the wall. The houses beyond were engulfed, the sky turning scarlet red with the blaze that was burning far below. The people standing on the walls jeered at the Resistance Army, telling them of their doom. The attackers looked around and took in the city for the first time. They started calling for water and forming chains, finally dropping their weapons.

    ¡°About time,¡± Wallace breathed heavily sheathing his sword, ¡°That¡¯s what we were waiting for, let''s go.¡±

    He turned from his vantage on the wall and nearly bowled Damon over. The boy was standing there grimly, in ragtag leather armor. He looked miserable, with his wounds he endured the night before, but there was determination written over his dark visage. With the help of healers, his eye was finally opening but had turned a horrid mixture of black and purple. His nose he had set, but it was still swollen to the point of him breathing through his mouth. Damon had clear bruising in multiple areas around his torso and neck, and his movements were stiff, making his walking look like a puppet in a play. Damon looked at the Master Sergeant with a clear expectation. If he was angry at Wallace for his part of Damon¡¯s condition, he hid it well.

    ¡°Damon, go take your place with the other conscripts, we are leaving,¡± he commanded shorty, turning his back to continue the withdraw process.

    ¡°No.¡± Damon simply said folding his arms over his chest slowly. He winced as his hands touched his sides. Damon was clearly not in the shape to be heading out on a suicidal mission.

    Wallace pivoted back around on his heel angrily. They had the rebels distracted, but they were still horribly outnumbered, and here he was arguing with a spoiled brat. ¡°What do you mean no, this is not a time for arguing. I have to save your Bonnie lass right now, or the Grim will have my hide. Now go; she will be fine.¡± Wallace assured him, trying to contain the growing anger.

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand, Wallace, no one lays a finger on my woman. No one.¡± Damon said with dark rage burning across his face that made the soldier pause to listen. The youth took a few moments to compose himself, curling and uncurling his hands, ¡°I will be there when she is released.¡±

    Wallace nodded in understanding. He eyed the boy critically, looking at the makeshift leather armor and bucket for Damon¡¯s helmet and shook his head, ¡°Well you can¡¯t go dressed like that. I don¡¯t like being laughed at, especially if I am to die. Go commandeer your cousin¡¯s armor. He won¡¯t be happy to swap with you but tell him it is an order. If he still doesn¡¯t listen, tell him he can go with the vanguard in your place. That ought to motivate him. This mission will be to much work without having to worry about an easy casualty.¡± Damon gave a little chuckle and clapped Wallace on the back and walked off whistling merrily. Wallace sighed, realizing his mistake. He really should have sent Damon to his cousin with an escort. If Wallace was lucky, Thomas might come out of this alive, if not, someone would need a promotion.

    ¡°He¡¯s got a lot of me in him.¡± came that deep baritone from behind him making him jump, ¡°He is very protective of his wives.¡±

    ¡°Would you kindly stop doing that,¡± Wallace said irritated trying to rub the goosebumps that had formed through his chain.

    ¡°Stop what?¡± Grim asked innocently as he walked up with a quite and subdued Bethel beside him. She was dressed in heavy chainmail that bore the crest of Grim on it and had a broad sword at her side. He seemed to almost have an invisible leash on her with the way she moved when he did. Wallace had known Bethel for almost a decade, serving under her on the guard. Whatever happened to her, changed the vain, lustful matron forever. The steel iris¡¯s that could cut a man down, no longer shown with the same glint. Wallace shuttered, tearing his gaze away from her as he spoke to the Grim.

    ¡°Sneaking up behind people. It is nerve-racking enough to have the All-Father, Champion of Order with us but to have him listening over my shoulder is more than I can take.¡± Wallace admonished the Grim, giving him an irritable wave of his hand. The Master Sergeant respected the Grim, but he could not bring himself to grovel before anyone,  ¡°You could, I don¡¯t know clear your throat or something.¡± the soldier said irritatedly, then he tacked on as almost an afterthought, ¡°your Grace.¡±

    ¡°I will try to keep that in mind,¡± The All-Father said with an amused, thin smile, ¡°But it is that Champion of Order title I wanted to talk to you about. I did not interfere in the battle because there was no interference from Chaos. As Order¡¯s Champion and Caregiver to this planet, I am responsible for keeping a certain balance. If I act, Chaos is free to act as well, without consequence. I do have certain restrictions that do cause some irritation to me from time to time.¡±

    ¡°Is that why she wasn¡¯t out there?¡± Wallace pointed at the heavily armed Bethel, ¡°She is one of the best armed and trained in Tharpe. She is easily worth five of my men.¡±

    Grim looked at Bethel and smiled, ¡°No, it is because she is concerned about fighting agents of Chaos, not peasants with swords. Bethel is, how should we put it, unique.¡±

    ¡°They weren¡¯t all peasants with swords out there Father,¡± Wallace objected, ¡°But what restrictions could an immortal like you have. We are taught that you are all-powerful, do as you please type person. Snap your finger¡¯s and create or destroy at will and all that other Grimly stuff.¡±

    ¡°Ever wonder why Temple is held for three days every two weeks? Or maybe why don¡¯t I have any children?¡± The Grim looked patiently at the commander in front of him. It was painfully obvious Wallace was not a faithful follower of the Temple, but that was a good thing. The Grim had much to correct, more than he realized, in his own family.

    ¡°Yeah supposedly because you can only.. oh I guess you do have some restrictions,¡± Wallace admitted scratching at his blood-crusted beard. All around the preparations for the evacuation of both the Temple and the city were almost finished. Wallace and the Grim started to walk for the head of the line near the massive Temple gates. The glow from the burning city cast a hellish, red glow into the outer bailey as the remaining survivors gathered together in their designated groups. Huddled together, babies being carried by other children or mothers if they survived the battle, wrapped in whatever they could find against the growing cold of the night. Jen stood up on a short wall, counting silently, taking in their losses from the civilian conscripts.

    ¡°More than you know, but right now I am going to help. Chaos has put its finger into the mix. It is not important how, but he has. My Master, Order, has also deemed it necessary to step in and aid somewhat too.¡± The Grim explained. Wallace raised an eyebrow in interest at this revelation as they came to the head of the line, ¡°If we are to thwart Chaos¡¯s attempt, we need to leave now. If we do, we will not lose a single person. Beware though. I have known since I arrived, a sorcerer from the Free Cities is here with the enemy. As I act, Chaos will be free to act as well. I will try to intercept any harmful energies in time, but even I cannot be everywhere at once I am not a¡­¡±

    ¡°God I know, I have heard that several times since you got here your Grace.¡± Wallace finished his sentence dismissively as he turned to issue the general orders to a runner that would be needed for leaving the relative safety of the walls. The Grim smiled with satisfaction. He liked this man more and more.  The Master Sergeant broke so many formalities that everyone else observed it was refreshing. Wallace treated the Grim with the same indifference that he would show to a superior officer, but with that respect came the sense of duty to get the job done. Someday Wallace would be the greatest commander the world had seen if he was any judge of people and he was the best.

    Damon showed back up with his cousin''s blood-spattered armor, and a long sword buckled onto the sword belt. The armor was a little too big, but he would be better protected than when Damon was dressed in the rugged leather. He looked at his father with a smug smile plastered across his face and came to stand beside The Grim casually. Wallace turned and looked at the two, visibly shivered from the spectacle. The resemblance was uncanny, Damon was a miniature of the All-Father without glowing eyes. The Master Sergeant turned his head from the father-son pair and motioned for Damon to come to stand beside him. The soldiers had worked to remove the timbers throughout the afternoon and now all that had to be done was to activate the mechanism to unlock the gate. The splintering of wood could be heard echoing off the Temple¡¯s walls.

    ¡°What?¡± Asked Damon innocently trying to suppress a mischievous smile.

    ¡°You know what boy. You did that on purpose.--¡± Wallace said smacking him on the backside of his head, ¡°--Please don¡¯t do it again, sent shivers down my spine.¡±

    Damon gave a small laugh. ¡°I take it from your smile that he was not happy?¡± Wallace guessed. Damon showed the Master Sergeant a red fist and smiled happily. Wallace shook his head, at least he knew Thomas still lived. At the moment, trying to replace a sergeant, however lousy he may be, would be hard to do.  Though he could not blame the lad, after the beating Damon had taken at the hands of that belligerent man, a couple of good sucker punches couldn¡¯t be blamed. He motioned to the man operating the mechanism.

    ¡°Open them up. Let¡¯s move out.¡± He ordered, his deep voice echoing throughout the darkness of the winter night. It carried on the winters wind to the soldiers manning the gatehouse. They were not worried about an ambush. Everyone had given in to the need to save the city, they would ignore them as they left. As the leader of all the Garrisons, Wallace would be giving orders. He had already discussed with the General what was expected of his groups when he departed. She and the Captain would be with their respected regiments, what was remained of them anyways. They took casualties in their attack, they didn¡¯t have an exact count right now, but it wasn¡¯t good. His vanguard, which joined the battle late, had only taken three. Adding Damon back in meant they were down two, that wasn¡¯t bad. But, most of the guard behind him were reporting losses of ten men or better. That was one-fifth of their regulars gone, which was heavy casualties in a defensive fight. The Matron had tried to get a headcount but gave up, the people were starting to panic. Without fighting, the worst enemy to any army started to set in, fear.

    The gates opened, the passage of the door caused the smoke to curl through them, wafting the sweet sickening scent of burning flesh to their nostrils. The outside was lit with an eerie red glow that gave it the appearance of the pictures that the necromancers showed of the Planes of Chaos. The vanguard drew their wicked curved short swords as one and moved out into the fire lit half-darkness of night. The rest would run directly for the gates. Each group had what was left of their volatile fire cask, a liquid made by the ingeniousness of alchemists in their creative labs. They would roll it down the narrow back allies and finish lighting the outer sections on fire and then, lock the city gates on the way out.

    The vanguard was to rescue the beleaguered prisoners and make their way to the docks. They each carried a flask of the fiery liquid cradled on their belt. When they got there, they would set fire to the dockside, taking the last boat on a perilous, night-time crossing of the Dim. If everything went well, the army on foot would have a signal fire lit for the vanguard, but if not, a cold death would await them. The Grim went with the main group to protect them from sorcery. The vanguard was on their own.

 Chapter Thirteen

    Wallace took the lead down the dark alley as the splintered off from the main group and led the men into the darkness. Smoke choked them as building burned all around, many of the men covered their mouths to muffle their coughs as they moved silently through the streets of Tharpe. The Master Sergeant eventually signaled a halt with an upheld hand, motioning for the men to huddle up. They were in the relative shadows of a smoldering building that used to be a bakery. Wallace squinted through teary eyes at one of his corporals, a veteran of twenty years, grizzled, sporting scars from the battles in the Banderling Wars fifteen years ago.

    ¡°Vic, I want you to take four to the left flank. I know there will be a fuss about this, but I am sending Damon scouting. ¡° Wallace braced for the quiet outburst. The battle had been started over the boy, but like it or not, Damon was one of the best scouts and thieves Wallace knew. The grumbling came, one after the other voiced their views and distrust of him. Some had even had the pleasure of locking him up once or twice themselves, so the Master Sergeant couldn¡¯t blame them. He let them have there saw before he cleared his throat softly and waited for silence.

    ¡°Hush it, I know the boy, I have arrested him quite a few times myself too Esau,¡± he glared hard at one of the more vocal privates, ¡°I like it even less than you but, there is none quieter than him, and it is in his best interest that we reach the prisoners. Now I want Rick to take a squad and take the right flank. Wedge, take a team and form a rear guard. I don¡¯t want any surprises. I will take the remainder and take the point. If we hit trouble form a wedge. These are untrained soldiers, and it should work the best.¡±

    The private glared hard at the smugly smiling boy. Damon shrugged his shoulders and winked at Wallace. The burly man began to doubt whether this was a good idea, but it was a little late for it now. He took in a deep breath and continued his instructions.

    ¡°Absolute silence, use hand signals only. Take out individuals quietly. We do this covertly, no open fighting in the streets if it can be helped. Once we have freed the prisoners, we make for the Harborside and burn the bastards¡¯ last resort.¡± He looked from face to face of the soldiers under his command, all well trained but few, ¡°Remember, we are only twenty-three well-trained soldiers against an army with no help. No heroics, we made those bastards pay at the Temple but not that much. Let¡¯s get our friends out there and get out. Let the fire do the rest of the killing. We have suffered enough loss for a lifetime.¡±

    The soldiers all nodded as Damon¡¯s fingers stroked the flask on his side lovingly, smiling at the thought. Wallace signaled Damon ahead. The youth moved through the shadows like a ghost. Damon was too skilled for Wallace¡¯s comfort. He did not trust him, not yet. In the backside of his head dwell the thought that he just loosed a wolf amidst the fabled sheep. That wolf moved swiftly with on wings of silent death. They covered the ground between the gate and the prisoners quickly, managing to kill three stragglers without more sound than the snap of a neck. They found the handy work of Damon twice. The gruesome sight made the men stop in disbelief that he had done it without a sound. Each man had their throats opened and had been disemboweled, the entrails spilled to the cobblestones below. Damon came back to warn them just before they got to Weaver¡¯s Street, where the three were staked out. He stepped out of the darkness directly behind Wallace, making the commander jump and nearly yelp.

    ¡°Boy!¡± Wallace whispered fiercely, ¡°You are as bad as your father. Clear your damn throat or something.¡± Damon smiled widely, his sharp features casting long shadows across his face. He was enjoying this immensely.

    ¡°They have guards there.¡± He warned quietly, as his face sobered up. ¡°They must realize we are no longer home.¡±

    ¡°How many?¡± whispered Wallace as they huddled.

    ¡°Fifteen, they have circled our friends and are faced out,¡± Damon said.

    ¡°Well, we have two things, surprise and the light to our backs.¡± Wallace thought out loud. He scratched absently at the loose soil on the stone as he thought with the edge of his knife.

    ¡°How good are you with knives boy?¡± Vic asked looking expectantly at the boy half-hidden in the shadows. The veteran¡¯s leather creaked as he squatted beside his commander. Vic was in his element. The Banderling Wars had engulfed the East over a decade ago and nearly every able body person had fought at that time. It was an uprising of what most people term as monsters, against the encroaching humans. Banderlings, being the more intelligent non-humans, lead the armies. It had done temporarily, what no man had ever accomplished. It united the Free Towns of the East for a few years but after they drifted back apart. Vic had lived through it, fought in it, and this little skirmish had been a nice breather.

    ¡°Are you kidding Vic?¡± Wedge, a small, rat-faced man with a neatly kept mustache, nudged him, ¡°I was there last night when he was arrested, I was. I doubt there is a man on our little force, who can out throw him or his friend tied up out there.¡±

    Vic drew out one of his spare throwing daggers and flipped it towards Damon, who snatched it by the blade out of the air. Wedge gave Damon a genial smile and nodded in satisfaction and Vic nodded his approval. ¡°Ok, so we have twenty-three here. How many do you reckon we can drop with knives?¡± His grey eyes stared intently at their scout. Vic might have grey his stubbled beard, but anyone could see that age had not affected the clarity of his thought. Damon dropped to his heels and drew a diagram in the dirt. The others leaned in to see in the dim light let off by the nearby burning buildings.

    ¡°Here is the wall,¡± Damon indicated to a line north of the circle and three dots, ¡° that is at least a bow shot and a half away with no cover but on these sides. These houses are only smoldering, and we could still find shadows between them without becoming a barbecue. If we hurry, we could take out maybe all but five. If we time it right, the five could be engaged at the same time from forces from this direction.¡± He drew a line coming in from the south hitting them from the direction the street ran pinning the five men against the wall. Vic nodded his approval to the boy and looked at Wallace who thought about it.

    He walked back and forth scratching at his beard in irritation. Wallace did not like relying on throwing knives. But with fifteen to their twenty-three, it would be a bloody, noisy battle. He finally raised his eyes to Damon and growled, ¡°I hope your half as good as they say, or else I will cut your nuts off myself.¡±

    ¡°If I miss, I will gladly pull my pants down for you.¡± Damon clapped Wallace on the shoulder, turned and followed Vic. ¡°Besides, it will settle a dispute between me and Faldo.¡±

    Wedge threw back his head and laughed out loud, and his friends beat him over his head. He wiped tears from his pinched face as he moved forward with the boy. Wedge had been one of the only who had shown Damon any comradeship They moved forward down the dark alleys silently until they came to the smoldering houses Damon had indicated. Part of the group stuck in smoke-filled doorways while Damon led another group around to the other side. Wallace gave him to the count of fifty and then gave Vic the signal. Wallace would leave the knife throwing to the Temple Garrison. The Master Sergeant had spent years with a sword and was among one of the best in Tharpe but when it came to knives he was shit. Half the time it hit handle first if he even hit the target.

    Vic stood and with fluid grace, threw, belying the man¡¯s age and the same time Wallace stepped out of the shadows and crossed the wide street in a few bounds. As the other ten mean fell dead, confusion set in, making the remaining five easy prey for Wallace and his soldiers. The well-trained men dispatched the five without much more than a gurgle.

    Wallace put his boot on the chest of the dying man and wrenched his sword out. Wiping his blade off with the cloth at his belt he turned to see that Damon was working on cutting the girl loose. The Master Sergeant recognized her as Cariline. She was a serving wench at the Three Pigs that nobody was allowed to touch. Next was one of his very good friends, Faldo. The big man had been roughed over a few times and was a little worse for wear. Faldo looked up at Wallace and gave him a half-hearted smile.

    ¡°Can you help an old friend out?¡± he asked wearily.

    ¡°Always getting into scapes where I have to bail your ass out.¡± Wallace teased back gently, ¡°I guess since I am in the area, I can do it...again.¡±

    Wallace pulled his belt knife and cut at the hemp that held Faldo to the pole. The ropes released and the big man stood to full height and moved his arms, Wallace moved to the last prisoner.

    The blacksmith Marlin, the living giant of a man, had ropes wrapped around him. His massive head looked up at Wallace and the commander could see a raging inferno burning behind normally gentle eyes. But patience was there too, Marlin had not strained against his bonds. He waited for a rescue he somehow knew was coming for him. The men who had tied him had layered them till you could no longer see the inhumanly large man.  It was clear they were afraid he might break out of the ordinary means. Perplexed at the blacksmith¡¯s somber anger, Wallace found the central knot, worked at the thick rope with his knife while he looked over at Faldo to get some answers for his burning questions.

    ¡°Faldo, mind telling me what happened?¡± Wallace asked as the ropes gave way to his blade and he began to unwind the mess of cordage.

    ¡°Yeah, Fredrick planned this whole damn thing. He has people planted in every city in the East to bring the Temples under his heel where he will gleefully ground them.¡± Faldo seethed as he walked over to help with the ropes on Marlin, ¡°This was never about Damon! He is just a convenient excuse. This, this is about power and whose hands it lay in.¡±

    Faldo turned and kicked angrily at the post in the ground making it shudder violently. He was muttering curses as he paced back and forth.

    Wallace turned to look at him pale, ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. The whole of the East will go up in the flames of war. The Banderlings will look like a barroom brawl...¡±

    ¡°He is very serious,¡± Marlin reassured him in a deep rumbling bass that seemed to shake the very ground as the rest of the ropes snapped, and Marlin stood up, favoring his side slightly. Wallace saw a wound under the smith''s giant hand.

    ¡°Grim will need to know,¡± Wallace spoke it softly, almost to himself. He shook his head to clear it, voice cracking as he said, ¡°We need to move.¡±

    He glanced over at the young couple standing a short distance off to the side. Damon was trying to calm the hysterical girl. He held her tight, rocking her back and forth while stroking her matted, auburn hair. Cariline sobbed something quietly to Damon and he went stiff. His soothing strokes stopped. He bowed his head and he swore softly under his breath. The girl starting apologizing loudly and that¡¯s when he dark-haired youth gently kissed his girl as she shook. Damon turned his head toward¡¯s the Master Sergeant and glared. In those dark pools, Wallace saw hatred burning, murderous intent that could not be mistaken.

    ¡°Everything alright Damon?¡± The Master Sergeant asked, speaking slowly as he walked carefully towards Damon. He still held his sword, and he moved the point cautiously towards the youth who had been known for his past violent behavior. They may have just fought for the same goal, but Damon now had what he wanted. Wallace had been there to arrest him through the years all too often. Once or twice, the guard had run across unexplained murders. Though they were never able to prove it, this lad was always the suspect.

    ¡°You go and take Cariline,¡± Damon said softly, Wallace. The Master Sergeant lowered his sword point in confusion. Damon slowly cupped his beloved¡¯s face, ¡°I have a debt to pay, and one should always pay a debt.--¡± He whispered something in Cariline¡¯s ear as she wept in his arms and he kissed her, holding her tight around her thin waist. Cariline whimpered as she clung to his neck, all the while digging her face into his chest. He pried her fingers loose from the tabard on his armor and held her hand for a moment longer, lingering in reassurance. His dark eyes pleaded with her, reducing her open sobbing to muffled whimpering. He patted her small hands, letting out a sigh as he released them.

    ¡°Go with them love, I will be alright,¡± Damon reassured her softly as one would a startled animal. He then went over and picked a throwing knife out of a still body with a slight sucking sound. The small man turned and smiled pleasantly at Wallace. He gestured at the lowered sword tip that was still pointed in his general direction, "Point that somewhere else, would you? You are not the debt Master Sergeant. Though I am flattered at the compliment."

    ¡°Where are you going, what debt?¡± Wallace asked as he relaxed his stance and directing some of the guards to escort Cariline. The commander wasn¡¯t about to miss out on a fight, and he was charged with seeing all his friends back safe, especially the son of Grim.

    Faldo bent over picking up a sword from another dead body, testing the balance, ¡°The same one I am going to collect on. Roldem steel nice.¡± He flexed the slender sword a little, ¡°That bastard of a father let his own soldiers rape his daughter repeatedly for two hours. That debt, we will collect on if we have to tear the city apart, building by burning building, to do it.¡±

    Marlin bent and picked up an ax from a nearby man and put it over his massive shoulder. The giant rose to full height, towering over the rest of the company by two head heights, ¡°Aye, you have that one straight. We will have the bastard¡¯s head.¡±

    Damon eyed the two and nodded in approval.

    ¡°So, do you intend to stop us?¡± He asked with a raised eyebrow.

    ¡°Stop you? Demons no, why would I let you have all the damn fun?¡± Wallace asked as he signaled them to move out with a dark look on his face. He, as a soldier, had heard of gruesome things in his line of work in keeping the peace but as a man, that was an absolutely horrendous act. He would hold the demon down while the three did what they would on one condition, they let Cariline have her go with her father first. He would give the girl a knife himself and kill any man that got in her way, with the exception of her father.

    ¡°Where are we going?¡± He asked Damon who was walking whistling a tavern tune, idly flipping his knife in his hand. He was taking this too light for Wallace''s comfort. They were not out for a summer stroll, be damned. The boy either was mad or lacked a complete lack of empathy. As a career soldier, killing was always serious and business-like and to imagine any other way made him cringe.

    ¡°You need to get Cariline to safety. She doesn¡¯t need to see this. I am going to cut this bastard¡¯s cock off and shove it so far down his throat that it comes out his ass.¡± Damon said casually fingering his knife blade. Wallaces''s eyes opened wide, and his mouth went dry at the callous attitude exhibited by the man in his company. He shuddered inwardly but considering the circumstance, he could not blame Damon''s thirst for blood and vengeance. Maybe, this would just be metaphorical, or at least he hoped.

    ¡°Well, umm, yes I guess that would be gruesome. But the lady needs to see it through herself, to know its taken care of Damon. It helps.¡± Wallace stammered as he tried to carefully explain.

    ¡°Then tag along if you want, but that bastard is mine! Don¡¯t get in my way or you will squat the rest of your life.¡± Damon threatened seriously, pointing his knife at Wallace''s nose, ¡°We are going to Thewar¡¯s Inn, it is where they are headquartered.¡±

    Wallace stared hard at Damon as his men¡¯s hands went for their weapons. Wallace held up his fist to stay the guards¡¯ steel and nodded at the young man once. After this was over, him and that boy were going to have to have a talk about civility, manners, and just plain out whose cock was bigger.

    ¡°Well let¡¯s go; that¡¯s only a few minutes from here.¡± Wallace said slowly, not taking his eyes off of Damon. He took point with Damon, Faldo, and Marlin. The Master Sergeant had an honor guard escorting the terror-stricken girl, with orders to bring her forward when the time was right. If anything went wrong they were to get her out of the city and report what had happened.

    ¡°Damon, they have a sorcerer with them. We need to be careful when we go into the inn.¡± Faldo said cautiously, ¡°I hate sorcery with a passion, I hate fighting it. A sword or knife I know what to do against, but there is just no defense against that mumbo jumbo. It makes my skin itch.¡± Faldo gave a visible shutter.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    To Wallace, it didn¡¯t matter, sorcerers died as easy as any other living things, but this was a side to his big friend he had never seen. Faldo was a rather large man, but despite his girth, he was blessed with nimbleness too. His father had made sure Faldo had learned swordplay from a very young age and now Faldo was among one of the best in the entire East. Wallace can¡¯t remember the last time he saw Faldo beat. To hear him say he feared something was something of a novelty and something disturbing.

    ¡°It¡¯s easy, stick a knife in them before they do the mumbo jumbo,¡± Damon said casually stabbing the air in front of him in the demonstration.

    ¡°Or clunk them on the head. Hard to talk when your unconscious¡± Marlin interjected. Damon shrugged in the giant''s direction as if to say true enough. It was not his style, he preferred them dead but Marlin, despite his massive size, was much gentler than most men. Marlin¡¯s views had irritated Damon somewhat growing up, but the man had been there and stood for the boy often enough that Damon could overlook that small fault. If there was one quality the small thief had come to value, it was fealty.

    ¡°Yeah that does work,¡± Wallace said as they worked their way cautiously down the smoke-filled streets. It was almost heart wrenching to see mean and women choking and coughing, as they frantically fought a new battle to save the city of Tharpe. At one point, during that march, Wallace began to have doubts that the plan had been a sound one. His heart ached as he saw a family huddled in the street watching a roaring inferno that used to be their home. People seemed more worried now about saving the buildings that weren¡¯t engulfed in flames then they were about the armed men walking down the streets with their weapons drawn. They came across a man who was grabbing everyone in the street begging them for help, only a block from the Inn of the Second Home. Wild-eyed he nearly ripped out another patch of his own hair as he begged them for their help.

    ¡°Put down your weapons and grab a bucket,¡± cried a man who was quite literally pulling his hair out. He wore some armor of sorts, marked with a snake with its head cut off. ¡°My shop is on fire. Please, I will be destitute. I will pay you anything!¡±

    As he ran off to seek the help of a grief-stricken pair standing in front of the remains of a townhouse, Wallace clucked his tongue lightly and shook his head sadly. Next to him, Faldo growled deeply, his grip on the rapier he picked up tightening. Damon gave Marlin a questioning look as the blacksmith took the ax off his shoulder and thumped it in his hand.

    ¡°He was one of the bastard soldiers if you get my meaning,¡± Marlin explained, his eyes never leaving the man as he worked his way across the street begging for help. No one got to react as Damon whipped a throwing knife with blinding speed, sending flickering steel across the stone street and burying the blade in the backside of the man¡¯s head. He fell dead to the cobbled street in a crumpled heap. Damon walked over and pulled the knife out, taking a deep sigh of relief as the blade rasped against the skull a slight steely ring. Marlin turned around to glare at the little man that barely reached his sternum.

    ¡°What! He almost got away.¡± He mocked the giant defensively, ¡°Now, one down, how many were there?¡± He asked cheerfully whistling as he came back from retrieving his thrown knife. Marlin grunted and walked ahead a little in irritation, a little bit a vengeance being denied him. Seldom did Marlin approve of violence but when the primal instinct did call, the lust in him needed to be fulfilled. The Master Sergeant needed to set an example now, to try to keep peace in the ranks while they were still in danger.

    ¡°Don¡¯t hog all the fun mate¡± Wallace glowered as he slapped at the backside of Damon¡¯s head.

    ¡°Well he was right here, and no one did anything about it,¡± Damon said defensively ducking the blow. He smiled sheepishly and sprinted forward to scout the alley ahead. They did not encounter any more trouble in the few streets to the corner of Miller''s Lane and Victor''s Alley, where the Inn of the Second Home stood. The Inn stood a distance away from the Temple and the fire was slow to spread, but as more buildings went from smoldering to open flames, their window to leave would rapidly close.

    They stopped when they reached the end of the lane and Faldo looked around the corner. The Inn stood as a large three-story complex with an attached outbuilding used for housing horses and carriages. In its grandest of days, it was an establishment for the wealthiest businessmen in the East, but the late Lord Dravor had squandered most of the fortunes, and the Inn had fallen into disrepair.

    The building on the outside had been left unguarded, but Damon knew that was probably not the case inside. The buildings near the Inn had succumbed to flame, but the Inn itself looked untouched and occupied. The bottom floor was masonry, then the next two stories were the typical timber-framed structure that could be found throughout the East. From how it let off steam, The Lady Thewar had it doused in as much water as she could wipe her men into. Some rooms glowed with the soft glow of lantern light, so Damon could infer that the Inn had company in it or at least did have some recently. He turned to his friend, ¡°We need six people in there. Any more, and we will be sticking each other, not the stinking rapist.¡±

    Wallace silently nodded his agreement and turned to the company of vanguard, pointing out two of the better corporals, ¡°Vic, Wedge, you''re with me. Charles, take command. If you hear two whistles, come in but if you hear my death scream, run like hell for the dockside. Burn the boats, and get out.¡±

    The group of six moved out of the shadows of the alley towards the Inn of the Second Home. Marlin¡¯s chocolate brown eyes grew misty as he beheld his smithy at the end of the way from the Inn. Fire now roared through holes in the roof, and the rear portion had collapsed. Marlin shook his head sadly as he saw his life¡¯s work gon. Faldo put an understanding hand on the giant¡¯s shoulder. Everyone it seemed would lose what they love this night and no one would be unscathed.

    The small group mounted the stone steps that led between the tall marble pillars into the vestibule of the Inn. The entrance had double oak doors that were unlocked, and the lanterns were left lit at the front desk. As the group eased their way past the desk quietly, sounds of moaning could be heard coming down the short hallway. Both Damon and Faldo were familiar with the Inn, having burglarized Lord Dravor many times throughout the years. Damon raised an eyebrow at Faldo curiously who shrugged his shoulders. Damon signaled them down the lit hall. He was nervous, up to this point everything seemed to go well. The youth was not used to working with so many or with the guard. These men had not been your typical, clumsy oafs that he was used to evading, he could thank the demons for that. Had the guard consisted of men trained like the vanguard, his operation might never have existed.

    Damon and Faldo stood at the door, Damon looked back at Wallace nodding three times and burst through the door. The five soldiers they found had little time to react. Pre-occupied, having found themselves suitable company of women, they were ill-prepared for a battle against armed men. Damon lunged to the nearest man as he struggled to rise, his legs tangled in his captured woman the soldier threw off him. Damon¡¯s knife took him in his open groin, severing his artery. Damon let his momentum carry him over the dying man and rolled forward over the screaming naked woman¡¯s back.

    ¡°S¡¯cuse me, sorry for the interruption,¡± Damon apologized as he came to his feet. Faldo flashed his sword out and cleared the table, while one naked man begged for his life. Faldo cleanly speared the blubbering man¡¯s throat just to shut him up. The woman, the begging man had been enjoying, let out an ear-piercing scream. The big man winced at the octave hit by the frightened woman.

    ¡°Yes sorry for the interruption but have you girls seen any rapist?¡± He asked putting his foot on the gurgling man''s chest and pushing him off onto the woman who grunted. Her arms flailed wildly under the weight of the man that was now pinning her to the table. Her screaming subsided to a whimper of dismay under the weight of her dead companion.

    ¡°Oh sorry, how clumsy of me,¡± he said in a gentleman fashion pushing the man off the screaming woman with his boot, leaving a trail of blood down her bareback. The bloody woman ran for the nearest exit as the fighting continued. Marlin took two steps and kicked with a leg the size of a small tree. He caught the man, who was still on his back, under his jaw. The man''s head snapped back with the bone splintering sound of his jaw shattering. His head held at a funny angle while his body went limp. The ladies at this point, ran from the room, regardless of the state of their dress.

    Marlin looked injured, ¡°Do you think it was something we did,¡± he said hiking a thumb at the running nude women.

    Wallace gestured with his sword in disgust to a man who was cowering behind a chair, trying to find some kind of modesty. The short, stocky man shook his head in disgust at the frightened guard.

    ¡°Stand up man and have some damnable honor in death. I have already seen everything you have.¡± He yelled angrily, waving the tip of his sword at him in frustration. Damon smoothly threw his knife from across the room, the flickering steel deadly dance flickering in the lantern light. The blade caught the man through the side of the head, and the cowering guard collapsed to the floor.

    Wallace turned in frustration to look at Damon, ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you not to take all the damn fun!¡±

    ¡°Then what is that behind you,¡± the smiling little man pointed his finger to a point behind the Master Sergeant. Wallace turned in time to find the last man drawing a dagger from his clothes on the floor, coming down. He pivoted and slashed down with his sword, severing the man''s hand. The man wailed loudly, grabbing his wrist just above the spurting blood and fell to his knees.

    ¡°Was that fun enough?¡± Damon asked the leader, Wallace flashed Damon an evil grin.

    ¡°Where is Fredrick?¡± Wallace asked in a gruff tone. The tone of voice one heard just before the throat was slit in a back alley and suggested violence before acceptance.

    ¡°Go suck one!¡± The man replied.

    ¡°Seems he just said he wanted to lose his cock. It will be easy, he¡¯s already naked,¡± Damon said casually stepping forward. He leaned over to the wounded man¡¯s comrade and viciously jerked the knife out. He walked a saunter over, smiling almost casually and reached towards the man¡¯s lower anatomy.

    The man screamed, ¡°Wait!¡±

    ¡°See,¡± Damon said to Wallace with a ruefully, ¡°They are always a little touchy about their pride.¡±

    ¡°Now, Fredrick we need to have a chat. It seems he saw fit to start a war in the wrong city.¡± Wallace demanded.

    ¡°He is on the third floor. Nobody disturbs him or else they die.¡± The man said pleadingly.

    ¡°I dearly hope he tries, Damon, now we need to decide what to do with him--.¡± Wallace began, ¡°--You..¡±

    Damon reached down, ¡°I need some practice for Fredrick,¡± and grabbed the man¡¯s lower anatomy and did precisely like the young man said he would. The man¡¯s screaming was agonizingly loud to start with, and then Damon muffled it with body parts. The pitiful wailing died down to a gurgling groan. Wallace blanched, Vic threw up, and Wedge passed out with a soft thunk against the hardwood floor. Marlin and Faldo just watched with their arms folded across their chest contently.

    ¡°There! Justice served on one rapist,¡± Damon said with happy satisfaction, wiping his bloody hand on the man''s chest, leaving bloody smears on the bare skin.

    ¡°I did..did not think you were serious,¡± Wallace said horrified, staring at the gruesome sight that was before him. The body still thrashing slightly as the body starved for the last bit of oxygen.

    ¡°Oh? That was just the test run.¡± Faldo said with a bit of grim satisfaction, ¡°Next time, I will be holding the bastard¡¯s mouth open, there won¡¯t be any gurgling. He will choke on his damn cock.¡±

    ¡°Well every time can¡¯t be perfect,¡± Damon said lightly to his friend. Faldo smiled and gave him a shrug and clapped him on the back. They continued up, the next floor looked like it was being used for barracks of some sort, but now it was empty. He probably had his soldiers out bucketing water. They came to the next set of stairs. They led up to a door. Damon eased up to the door and gave it a jiggle. It was unlocked, he signaled for them to come up. They lightly climbed the stairs, in single file, with Marlin having to duck in the narrow stairwell. Damon took a deep breath and slowly opened the door.

    Inside was the wealthy owner¡¯s suite, and it had everything that you could need, even private jakes and baths. Damon quietly eased in, on feet that seemed to walk on shadows when he heard a twang of a crossbow string and rolled his shoulder. A blossom of pain shot through his arm, as a bolt meant for his heart, had missed.

    ¡°Drat!¡± Came a female voice. Damon gave a weak underhanded throw, but it was not at where the shot was, it was back at the door. The blade flipped twice and Faldo snatched the knife out of the air,  rolling out of the doorway. He spotted his target and gave Damon¡¯s knife a throw. It sailed true and found the lady¡¯s heart, and she dropped her crossbow, grabbing the knife and pulling it out releasing the throwing knife to the ground with a steely clatter. She stared in horror at her chest and then looked to Faldo with recognition registering on her face.

    ¡°Yeah, you bitch!¡± He gazed at her. Faldo''s hatred could almost be tangibly felt by the others in the room, ¡°It is a little to the side to make dying very slow. We need some answers, and I won¡¯t permit you to die until you give us them.¡±

    Wallace and the others came forward as the female collapsed to the floor. Her breathing becoming labored. The Lady¡¯s typically pale complexion had taken a gray cast, and her chubby cheeks had dark curls matted to it by beads of sweat that was now slowly dribbling down her face.

    Damon broke the crossbow bolt off and pulled it out with a curse. His breathing came in short gasp of pain as Vic tied a bandage over it, putting the knots over the wounds.

    ¡°Son,¡± Vic said, ¡°You were lucky she was using a little handheld toy. Had that been one the military used, it would have shattered bone and all.¡±

    Damon gave him a little nod and with pursed lips stood up and came over to where the dark-haired lady lay on the floor. He nudged her with his foot none too gently.

    ¡°My Lady Thewar,¡± Damon said with his voice dripping with sarcasm, ¡°Such an honor to meet you again. By the way, my lady thanks you for the necklace and ring. Now, where is dear old Fred? He has parts of his anatomy that he needs to be acquainted with the taste. That way he knows just how foul of a man he truly is.¡±

    ¡°Hehe, he is truly a foul man is he not? Probably leprosy, he is a disgusting enough man. ¡± She coughed, a little bloody foam coming out her mouth, ¡°I would have just been happy enough with the fall of the old Matron bitch, but he had to have all the Temples. Now, he has left me for dead.¡±

    ¡°So he has fled?¡± Faldo disappointment clear in his voice.

    ¡°Not yet,¡± her eyes flicked towards the jakes and a bloody, toothy smile coming to her chubby cheeks. She coughed and more brothy foam came up.

    ¡°That will be enough, put your weapons down.¡± Came a stern voice from behind them as they heard the door from the jakes open.

    ¡°By the damned demons!¡± stormed Wallace as he slowly turned not letting go of his weapon. Damon turned also but not before he stomped on the wound on the Lady¡¯s chest, rupturing her injuries and ending her life. He flashed Fredrick a feral smile to let him know that this encounter would end with one of their lives. Fredrick stood there with a military crossbow drawn and pointed at the group and another cocked beside him. The look on his worn face was victorious as he had the one person he had hunted for two years in front of him. His hair stood frazzled, and he wreaked of a week old body odor.

    ¡°Well, you set fire to my city,¡± he chuckled, ¡°Bold move and one I did not anticipate. But I have bolder ones made. I know the Grim is here in Tharpe and here in Tharpe, we will make his grave. Now I said drop the weapons. I won¡¯t ask again. I have an appointment to make. Schedules to keep and all. So, let¡¯s not be rude and make this hard.¡±

    ¡°I am sorry, but you miscount sir, you have two crossbows. That is two shots. Here I will even hold up the number of fingers if it is too hard for your brain to comprehend.¡± Damon held up two fingers, ¡°Now, that can only take down two of us, from my last count there are six of us. Now if you can¡¯t count that high my assistant over here will help. Faldo, do you mind?¡±

    Faldo held up five on the one hand and made an obscene gesture with his other, bringing the total count to six. Damon flashed him a grin of approval.

    ¡°Yes very nice educational program, is it not Sedrick?¡± Fredrick asked a figure that appeared out of thin air behind them. ¡°You see I have some education for you folks too; this is Sedrick. He is the one who will be putting an end to all this Necromancer bullshit. Sedrick, this is the soon to be dead, pain in the asses. Would you mind starting with the wounded one? We should take pity and put down the weak and wounded first.¡±

    ¡°So you have a pet sorcerer, or does he have a favorite playmate now that your wife is dead?¡± Prodded Faldo as he slowly moved off to the right and away from the sorcerer. For some reason unknown, they made his skin crawl. If he were fighting anyone, it would be against the son of a bitch that made him walk the Planes of Chaos themselves, watching Cariline endure man after man being raped. He would die, and he knew it, but he would meet his end helping Damon do what they came here to do.

    ¡°No, I am here for my own reasons as the brave leader over there pointed out. I will be on my way now, I have appointments. So sorry to run Fred.¡± With that the sorcerer gave Damon a wink, ¡°Stick him once for me will you, for what he did to his daughter. I don¡¯t care what view you have, that was evil.¡±

    The sorcerer gave a few gestures of his hands and a short incantation and was gone before anyone could lunge. A crossbow bolt embedded itself in the wooden wall behind where Sedrick was. Damon turned back to Fredrick smiling maliciously at him still holding up two fingers with his good hand. He slowly lowered one finger and looked around at his companions, who all smiled showing teeth at the middle-aged Resistance leader. There was smoke starting to form around them, as the wet building was beginning to succumb to the raging inferno of the burning city around.

    ¡°Well,¡± Wallace said with a cough, ¡°We better get to it lads, on three?¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t matter he can¡¯t count that high, THREE !¡± Faldo yelled and charged at Fredrick. Faldo had been moving the entire time slowly and had come to within a few bounds of him. He closed the distance to the middle-aged man in seconds and kicked the crossbow upwards sending the bolt into the ceiling with a thud. His weight carried both of them back into the jakes. They hit the floor with a jarring crash and the others heard a splintering of the wood.

    Damon sprinted forwards, with Wallace and Marlin on his heels. They saw Faldo look back at them over his shoulder, with his eyes wide in terror, before the floor gave out into a deluge of flames. They all cried out and tried to reach out for him, but it was too late. Their friend had disappeared, but at least it was not in vain. The man who had done such evil had vanished into the blaze with him.

    Wallace grabbed his companions¡¯ arms and dragged them back down the two flights of stairs, and they made the harrowing flight to the docks. They set fire to the remaining boats with the flask they carried, and the men got in the vessel, casting off into the dark lake. Damon and Cariline sat in the bow of the ship, huddled against the wind as the chop got worse. It would be rough going; they were quartering the wind. The city shrank behind them, making the sky glow a fiery red. On the far shore, they saw the encampment of the army and their companions waiting for them. There, they would find relative safety after two days of utter chaos.

    Just before they reached the shore, an explosion ripped through the city, centered on the Temple. Wallace rose in the boat they were in and stared back teary-eyed.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Asked a sleepy-eyed Cariline.

    ¡°The Temple has been destroyed. The Grim will perish.¡± Wallace said with a heaving sob.

 Chapter Fourteen

    The Matron watched the boat fight against the wind as the men had abandoned the single sail and swapped to oars. It was filled almost to capacity from her count with twenty-five souls silhouetted against the greying dawn and the black water of the lake. She frowned as worry washed over her slowly. They left with twenty-three in the vanguard, which meant they either lost a soldier or they lost a prisoner, either way, there would be another loss from their quickly dwindling forces. As it was, Wallace¡¯s company was running twelve hours late, the watch reporting movement in the predawn hours on the tumultuous lake.

    Jen had been waiting since on the icy shoreline, despite the gale that blew through her clothing with icy teeth, impatient for the news on the final moments from the city. An explosion had rocked the camp before dawn, bringing many from their fitful sleep. She paced furiously back and forth in the frozen mud of the shore, watching the single-masted boat make its way through the whitecaps of Dim Lake. A half-hour later, the waterlogged, tired rowers put their oars down in relief as the bow of the boat made landfall and six soldiers ran a gangplank to it from a fisherman dock, and tied it off securely. They would save this boat. It was the only one they had left on the entire lake, and it would be next fall at the earliest before they would have any more built from the surrounding forest.

    The Master Sergeant walked down the swaying gangplank slowly, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. His head was hung low, and his dark beard coated in ice and his grey eyes filled with loss and sorrow. He saluted his Matron with a half-hearted thump on his heart and then sank to his knees in the mud finally conceding to his misery.

    She paled, ¡°What is it, Wallace.¡±

    ¡± The explosion, the Temple.¡± He sobbed raggedly with puffs of steam coming out with each breath.

    ¡°The Grim,¡± she swayed back and forth, her heart beat furiously in her chest, ¡°NO!¡±

    The wail came out in a very primitive fashion as the tears of fear and sorrow streamed down her face. Jen¡¯s carefully constructed world collapsed around her. Her husband would cease to be, to exist,  in just two days. There would be no rebirth for the souls they killed in that inferno last night, every single soul was now lost to death for eternity. Everything would be in Chaos, and the enemy, the sworn Brother, had won out finally. She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder and reached up, holding the warm hand of her immortal husband. The Grim gathered her gently into his massive chest and cuddled her red hair against his broad chest, quietly shushing her, soothing her pain.

    ¡°What is all this sobbing and crying that I hear over here. Wallace, to your feet Master Sergeant. You¡¯re a man, for Order¡¯s sake. Act like the commander you are.¡± He admonished the stout Master Sergeant, who rose sullenly to his feet weary from a night of battle and then the Grim turned to his wife. ¡°Now tell me why all this sorrow?¡±

    ¡°The Temple was destroyed in that clap of thunder that came from the city before dawn,¡± she sobbed, the words coming between deep breaths, ¡°There is no way¡­ no way.¡± She couldn¡¯t say it. Her chest locked up in fear. She could not bring it out, to say it would make the nightmare a reality.

    Isobelle had walked up behind her as she talked and now, the young, blonde Second hugged her from behind. For the first time that Jen could remember, the Arms-Master¡¯s daughter was crying. She hugged her strong arms fiercely, letting Isobelle¡¯s chain armor dig into her chin to let her know this was indeed the waking realm. For it all seemed like a nightmare in the sleeping realm, one sent by Chaos himself to shake the faith of Order.

    ¡°My beautiful wives, this was prophesied long ago. I knew that I was to disappear, but the prophecy does say disappear not perish. A wife, who was a reaper sacrament named Lucy, has pointed out if it meant to say dead or perish it would. It also does say I will be back and the ones who will help is here.¡± He reassured them. The Grims¡¯s face was a careful mask of concern, showing not a hint of hopelessness.

    ¡°But what about what Order told you? You cannot exist in our world and you cannot return to yours.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I will disappear after the third day because I have no soul, but because of Bethel¡¯s transgression, I have a son to take my place for a short while. A seed of mine that has not strived against me for the throne to the Underworld.¡± He turned his attention to Damon with a serious glow to his red eyes.

    Damon looked puzzled at his father, but Grim turned his attention back on the group worriedly, turning his head back and forth. He looked through the gathered soldiers on the pier as they filed off the wooden deck, feet echoing through the stillness of the morning on the wooden planks below.

    ¡°What is it, husband?¡± Jen asked her distracted husband, feeling the worry that was building inside him.

    ¡°Where¡¯s the disciple, the blonde one?¡± Grim looked back and forth over the landing party, ¡°Without him, I cannot return. Without him, I will perish forever.¡±

    Jen turned to Wallace with wide eyes, realizing her nephew was missing from the group. She had missed it up to this point because of the shocking news of the destruction of the Temple. ¡°Yes Wallace, were is Faldo?¡±

    ¡°I am sorry Matron,¡± The Master Sergeant said with a heavy sigh, ¡° We fought with the leader of the Resistance and he was lost in a burning building. Faldo is dead.¡±

    Rascus walked over the smoking ruins of what once had been the Great City of the Lake. This had been home for his son and wife over the years, but for Rascus, no wheres was home. His brother also ended up settling here after several assassination attempts by their younger half-brother and now Duke of Valor, Gregory. Dravor had taste more in line with that of a merchant or lord, but Rascus preferred the life of travel and adventure. He lived by his wits and sword, if it suited him, then everything else be damned. Eventually, it did catch up to him, Rascus had killed a necromancer who had threatened to expose his son. Now he was in an eternity of servitude for that error.

    Here and there a building still had part of its roof, with charred remains still glowing red with fingers of smoke reaching up to but for the most part. Tharpe had been razed to the ground by her own Guard. There were soot-covered blackened husks of bodies that lay everywhere, with souls that begged to be reaped. There would be no reaping here, not for a few months at the minimum. Each soul had to be gathered by the reapers individually, and that process would take time. That time would be extended as someone had done what every reaper in service would gladly have done long ago, destroy a Temple.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    The Temple, just as the night sky had started to lighten and the sickle moon set, had imploded on itself. With the concussion it made, Rascus had expected to find a vast crater occupying the spot where it stood and the granite blocks flung in all directions. Instead, the Temple had been drawn in on itself to one place, the Portal to the Underworld was buried deep beneath a pile of neatly stacked cobblestone, as if a rock giant from the Western Divide, had decided to play blocks in the middle of Tharpe.

    Rascus had been sent with other reapers, to walk across the lake on a mission of great import. The man that Grim had needed rescued was missing, and he required any reapers in the area to be in that city looking for him. Rascus rather liked the easy-going Faldo and was eager to search him out. The blonde-haired bravado had befriended Damon before Rascus had been marked for death by the Grim himself. The big man would go anywhere and do anything for Damon, for that, Rascus was more than willing to search the young man out. Faldo had disappeared into the floor of the Inn of the Second Home, trying to kill the leader of the Resistance. If he was dead, so was all the hope for Order in the universe. The war accidentally sparked on the night that second man was created, would be lost before it indeed began.

    ¡°But thankfully so will my servitude be over,¡± muttered Rascus moodily.

    Rascus came down the debris strode street to what was left of the Inn, and he shook his skeletal head, if anyone was in that building, it would be someone he could communicate to but nothing alive. The Inn was burned to the fieldstone that made up the bottom floor walls. Dark, blackened beams stuck up vertically, ribs in some dead, decayed beast that lay awaiting vultures to pick it clean. He found a spot in the wall and launched his skeletal frame over it with ease and landing hip-deep in black ash sending an ominous dark cloud into the air around the reaper. He chuckled in spite of himself, if only he could make an entrance like this all the time. Off to the side, he saw five skeletons and their cursing souls were all curiously naked. The soul kept its appearance that it had at the time of death but not the manner of death. It seems these were caught in an inopportune time. He was sure they would be in a wonderful mode to talk to him, but maybe he could coerce some answers.

    These had to be the men that Wallace had talked about during his debriefing at camp. If Faldo had survived, they should have seen him since the harrowing escape of Damon. Rascus chuckled, Oh by The Grim! What a fight he had missed he thought as he looked at the souls, each trying to find some dignity in their current state of dress. Amused, Rascus walked up and nudged the first charred skeleton with his foot to get its attention. The man¡¯s soul looked up at him, with anger in its translucent eyes.

    ¡°You down there I say,¡± Rascus asked in a casual raspy tone, ¡°Did you happen to see a big, blonde-haired guy before you were killed last night? I hear he is quite fantastic with a sword. He was in the company of a little man with a throwing knife and a Giant. Does that ring a bell?¡±

    ¡°Go suck yourself reaper!¡± The soul seethed, in a tortured voice. The man¡¯s soul writhed, but it was still attached to the remains, so the best it could accomplish was to blur itself somewhat.

    Rascus threw back his head in a laugh that sounded like a cold winters wind through trees, ¡°I¡¯ll take that as I am in the right place.¡± He went to walk off and leave the skeleton-soul combination, and the soul cried out. Rascus, for the first time in fifteen years, was feeling pleasure from an action. Today was going to be a good day.

    ¡°Stop you can¡¯t just leave me here. Take me.¡± The angry, nude man whimpered, his tone going from a harsh crack to a frightened plea as the reaper turned his back.

    ¡°Nope, no can do. I am on a very strict mission from the Grim and you did tell me, how did you say, to suck off. Or something to that nature.--¡± Rascus dismissed it with a casual wave of a bone hand, ¡°--No, I do believe I will just leave you to be gnawed on by some wildlife for a few months till they happen to get the Temple back up. Have a good day.¡± Rascus hummed a bawdy tavern song as he walked off. With the damnable portal down, when he got far enough away from the Grim, he could tell the souls what he felt. Damn it felt good, now if he could just do something about the demon¡¯s cursed loyalty feeling to Order.

    He came by a female soul laying some distance from the men within the Temple. He slowly knelt to one knee beside her. He cocked his head in amusement as he looked down at the face of his own family.

    ¡°Well, my Lady Thewar. Your Father is taking a rest in the Underworld as we speak.¡± He said reaching down to move a piece of timber off the skeleton slowly. It wasn¡¯t exactly hurting the soul, but he knew from experience in the Underworld, they longed to feel comfortable. He cared for this one; she was his niece on his brother¡¯s side. Though she did not know it, he and his brother were both bastard sons of the Duke of Valor. Dravor. The Lady¡¯s father had pursued commerce and wished the tie between his outlaw brother be kept a secret, despite his deep affections.

    ¡°So, he has not had his rebirth,¡± Thewar sighed in resignation, ¡°Maybe I will see him then, again.¡±

    ¡°I carried his soul myself and stood with him during Judgement my Lady,¡± Rascus said with unusual gentleness in his voice, ¡°His soul is old indeed, dating to first-man. He will be there for some time it seems. Now do me a kindness, I do believe you are associated with one who was here last night. Faldo, son of Victor. We must know if he survived or if he perished.¡±

    The lady looked up at the reaper from her skeleton on the ashen gray stone, and shook her head slowly, ¡°No one has come out of these ruins of my father¡¯s Inn that I have seen reaper but what should I know.¡± She whimpered, ¡± With that smoldering timber you pulled off of me obstructing my view, I barely knew the sun had risen. But I saw him go into the flames. He fell through the floors and into the jakes. Even if the inferno that took the city did not get him, then falling from three stories surely would have.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Rascus said, ¡°I would reap you now, but someone has done something horrific to the Tem¡ª¡°

    ¡°Sedrick,¡± she said shortly.

    ¡°Do what?¡± stuttered the reaper confused.

    ¡°Sedrick said he was given a spell and the layout for the Temple. He sensed the Grim had arrived and received instruction from the Council of Sorcerers. They have been calling the shots for six months.¡± She explained, making a cold feeling run through Rascus¡¯s bare spine, ¡°He said he had a plan to rid us of the Grim once and for all.¡±

    ¡°Thank you again. We are indebted to you it seems. I will tell a Necromancer where you are to tend to your remains with respect until I can  escort you personally to your father when the Portal is restored, my Lady.¡± He said gently patting her bony hand.

    ¡°Thank you reaper.¡±

    ¡°Call me Rascus.¡± He told her standing up to move across the cluttered space to a massive hole in the floor. The jakes from the upper stories would have all tumbled into here, a deep stone-lined pit with a steel ladder in it, to allow for periodic cleaning. If Faldo did survive the fall, Rascus thought as he walked around the hole and looked at the top of the ladder smiling inwardly. They were in for a very aromatic surprise.

 Chapter Fifteen

    Damon sat staring at the crackling campfire. Since boyhood, Faldo had been his sibling, his brother, one of the few steady stars of guidance in his chaotic world, and now he was gone. They had got the man who had been such a sadistic son of a bitch as to let his own guard gang rape his daughter, but the cost had been terrible. Faldo was more than just the tempering force for their duo, somehow the jovial fighter fate had been tied to the survival of the world. He huddled a little closer to the fire, allowing its cheerless warmth to seep into his numerous injuries. A healer had attended the wound in his arm, getting the bleeding to stop and closing the gaping hole left courtesy of the late Lady Thewar. Her gift was now just added to the many aches and pains that plagued him this morning, both mental and physical.

    The attending physician did the best she could do for his injuries but there was only so much energy in a body. Healers did not practice inheritance and were therefore limited to the fifth circle. Without the souls that an apprentice sorcerer would gain from their master, a mortal¡¯s energy was finite. Casting too much could kill a person and once exhausted, only rest would remedy the drain.

    The damage to the inside muscles and tendons would need to heal on its own. His other injuries were sore, and he was exhausted, having not slept in seventy-two hours. Every time he moved his ribs screamed with agony, making his vision swim with pain. Damon had been ordered to bed by his worried fiance¡¯. He did not even want to see himself in a reflection at the moment. He knew he must look like one of Chaos¡¯s demons.

    Damon had tried to lay down with Cariline, who slept fitfully beside him. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blue eyes filled with fear, falling into burning oblivion and a pang of overwhelming guilt would wash over him. Cariline cried out in her sleep in fear, flinging her hands up in desperation. He reached over and soothed her with a gentle pat. The death that bastard suffered wasn¡¯t cruel enough, Damon thought darkly as Cariline huddled against Damon¡¯s protective arm. She was carrying his child and the grandchild of the Grim. It still seemed all too surreal to him, thinking of himself as the child of a fairy tale.

    He chuckled despite his dark mood, out of everyone in the world, all the faithful followers, the one person who is the Heir to The All-Father was an atheist. Could the world get any more ironic than that? He sighed and gently got up out of the warmth of the woolen blankets and the fire, taking in a sharp breath as the frigid air hit him through the torn clothes that served to protect him from the elements. He slowly walked away from their open fire, stepping gingerly, the ground cold against his rag wrapped feet, to look for the quartermaster to see maybe about a cloak. He despised cloaks, they were bulky and got in the way.

    In Tharpe, Damon had paid Sarah the Seamstress a small fortune to make him an amazing long coat with beaver fur lining. Now he would have to suffice with what he termed as an insufficient shoulder blanket, but with this arctic air that filtered in off the Northern Spine, he would gladly take one to ward off the chill. The sky had clouded over during the morning, and there had been flurries slowly dancing through the wind coming off the lake, promising that they were only the beginning. If he guessed it right, there would be snow-covered ground by tonight.

    At the quartermaster''s, he got not only a cloak but also a new set of boots. The master, a care-worn, elderly soldier, looked worriedly at Damon¡¯s wrapped bare feet and winced. The Master wandered off mumbling about priorities and looked for fifteen minutes to find Damon some boots. Damon had been walking around with cloth wraps around his feet since his cousin had come by his fire and demanded his armor back. Thomas was furious about the hole in the chain armor from the close range crossbow bolt, complaining loudly about the time it would take him to patch it up. The little thief was tired, sore, and grieving. He snapped at Thomas, putting the larger man on the ground with a series of punches. His cousin lay stunned for a few seconds and quickly gathered his things with one hand, the other tried to stem the blood pouring out his nose.

    Damon needed to find Thomas and apologize. He should not have used his older cousin as a punching bag to release his grief. Thomas just happened to be in the wrong place, saying the wrong things. He also needed to find his immortal father. The Grim had so much explaining to do and Damon was in the mood for so damn answers. At least something was going to make sense that had happened over the past few days.

    He walked down towards the shore and saw the shadowy bulk outline of a person who stood there. Damon approached the stranger silently from behind. Stalking prey was second nature to a predator like Damon and after what he just went through in the past two days, he was more than a little cautious. The ground was soft beneath his feet nimble feet, the long grass giving just a little crackle and the lake its soft lap of the water against the soggy shore. Damon¡¯s pulse raced with the thrill of the hun as it always did. He could clearly see now it was his father and as far as he could tell, he was oblivious to his presence. Damon was hunting the Grim and he was almost close enough to touch when the baritone rang out, echoing softly over the vast lake.

    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it son,¡±

    Damon jumped backward, giving a childlike yelp in surprise, landing firmly on the marshy ground. He muttered a small curse as he pushed himself back up to his feet with as much dignity as possible, trying in vain to brush the mud of the seat of his pants. He looked behind him, to the imprint where his rear hit the grey mud and the cold muck that froze his hands. Had he been wearing his long coat that burned with the rest of Tharpe and not this useless horse blanket, his ass wouldn¡¯t be muddy. He walked up to stand beside the brooding Grim.

    ¡°You know you usually are remarkably good,¡± The Grim complimented him not taking his eyes off the tossing boat offshore, ¡°I did not hear you, I felt you. Your soul and the closeness of the Seed you bear.¡±

    The Grim¡¯s red eyes never left the tossing water. His Father had been unusually aloof since the news of Faldo¡¯s death, choosing to spend most of his time alone. The bravado was meant to be something for the Grim, something that could not be replaced, and without it, everyone was no doomed. His Father had failed and he was taking it hard.

    ¡°You keep talking about this Seed. What exactly is it?¡± Damon asked curiously, ¡°I may be an atheist, but my mother did make sure I had the best the Temple had to offer in education. I have never heard of this Seed. Not from any text nor scripture that the necromancer nor acolyte taught from.¡±

    ¡°Then you did not listen,¡± The Grim reprimanded nonchalantly, ¡°When I first made Second-Man, the first ones to be born where my Children, my heirs. As a matter of self-protection against annihilation, any child of mine is a male child who bears a Seed, a key to the World itself. It is my fear of perishing that brought this upon Second-man and this plane of existence. I can have no daughters Damon, though I do wish I could. I sort of hope your child will be a girl. I would like a Granddaughter.¡±

    Damon smiled, the thought of The Grim dangling a baby over his knee, making googling noises at it, seemed to make the dark world a little brighter.

    ¡°I think I would like a little girl too,¡± Damon said carefully, still unsure of how to act in the presence of a being he did not believe in till yesterday, ¡°but really I would take a healthy baby.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit,¡± the Grim said with a broad smile of approval, slapping him on the back making the little man rock forward, almost sending him sprawling into the grey, oozing shore again.

    ¡°Father, what went wrong with my brothers?¡± Damon asked with a raised eyebrow while trying to rub at his stinging back. The Grim let out a heavy sigh. His Father¡¯s smile left his hawkish features and a deep sadness returned. He slowly shook his head as he let out a regretful sigh.

    ¡°I had hoped to save this for after the wedding Damon. It is a heavy burden to bear; it may weigh heavily on a time of great joy.¡±

    Damon shook his head fiercely, ¡°No, I want to know what makes me so different. I murder, I steal, I cheat. I do a lot of things people considered bad, which makes me good enough to be the Seed of Grim, the Crown Prince? I didn¡¯t even believe in the afterlife for the love of Chaos!¡±

    Damon threw up his hands in frustration and sat on the shoreline looking out at the waves. His seat was already muddy, so he didn¡¯t mind the wet as he picked moodily at the dry grass. From here, he could barely see the smoke of his home still rising into the air in the distance and thought of the good friend he left there.

    ¡°Did you know Faldo and I used this very dock to smuggle hard liquor into Tharpe un-taxed? If my mother only knew how much I did to help alleviate some of those taxes she put on.¡± Damon said putting his head into his hands to try to stop the memories of his lost friend, ¡°Or how the ones we forced into the ¡®protection money¡¯ were the ones who were charging outlandish prices, hurting those in the streets. Sure we kept part of that money, but we moved a good majority to honest merchants who helped the poorer ones too. But if people know those things, they tend not to pay up because you¡¯ve gone soft.¡±

    The Grim sat down beside his son smiling, shaking his head, ¡°You know Damon, you want to pretend you don¡¯t care, but just like the statement you just uttered. You didn¡¯t do it for money or to fight the Temple. You did it because you cared for the souls of the people who were suffering. You went after Fredrick and the people who caused all this because they caused pain to people and you served justice. You answered your question on ¡®why me¡¯ better than any of my petty words ever will. You might talk like an uncaring tough ass, but my Seed shows through. It is in your nature.¡±

    The Grim reached over beside his son grabbing a rock and tossed it into the very center of the lake. Damon gave him a wide sidelong glance. Grim winked back at him with his red eyes dancing mischievously, ¡°My first seven encountered the knowledge of sorcery when second-man was in its infancy. They approached their age of inheritance and sought me out to ask me for their portion of what they felt they were owed as my sons. It was then that I let them know that I was the All-Father, The Grim and until I perished, none would gain their inheritance. Baine was the eldest by a month and was wroth with anger over it. He slew a healer in the village where he and his mother lived in his rage over it.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°This is fascinating,¡± came Jen¡¯s voice behind them, ¡°Why don¡¯t we have this version in the Book of the Lost?¡±

    She walked up, still dressed in her light chain mail with the crest of Grim on it, and leaned against a water willow that branches swayed gently in the cold wind. She reached up and brushed an icy snowflake off her nose and looked at the pair. Her red hair stood out in the grey of the mid-winters day, a flame to follow in the darkness. She closed her eyes and shook her head, letting out a small laugh.

    ¡°You know it is still uncanny, actually seeing you two side by side. But anyways, according to the Book of the Lost, your sons were just evil with the power of Chaotic sorcery, lusting for soul infusion, and that type of thing. Why don¡¯t we hear the rejection side of things?¡±

    The Grim shrugged, ¡°I didn¡¯t write the book, and the book has been rewritten over the last, oh what, four hundred and fifty thousand years. I imagine I could probably correct a whole lot of propaganda in the Book of the Lost that you have today. Maybe one day we need to sit down and make revisions?¡±

    ¡°Imagine that, necromancers rewriting their own religious book without the permission of their deity¡ª¡° taunted Damon.

    Grim held up a finger ¡°I never claimed to be a Deity,¡±

    ¡°I was raised around it father,¡± Damon continued, ¡°Without the permission of the FATHER to control the masses better. And you had to wonder why I was an atheist?¡±

    Jen chuckled beside them under the tree, they both looked at her questioningly, ¡°Nothing just thinking of advice from the man I am going to promote into the first officer position in the East. That we, in the Temple, need to act more like humans less like our shit don¡¯t stink.¡±

    ¡°Wise man,¡± The Grim nodded in agreement, ¡°Don¡¯t let him go too far.¡± he continued his explanation, ¡°They had been using sorcery in secret for a year at this point, and each was equally matched in power. They discovered you could not gain any more power on your own other than what you were born with, hence why they wanted their inheritance. Sorcery is addictive, like the plants and roots of the alchemist. To much use and that is all one can think of, and Chaos knew this when it released the secret to my sons and on second-man. When Baine slew that woman, he found the answer to his problem, his brothers found out and were thrown into a rage.¡±

    ¡°A war broke out between my sons. The one who gained the most power would be the one to challenge me. Since they were my sons, their capacity was much greater than that of regular sorcerers. Out of them all, Baine was the strongest, he was the hardest to turn into a reaper. Many died in that final battle against him. After the final turning, I continually expanded their territory, keeping them busy watching over the land entrusted to them. We happen to the in Baine¡¯s Domaine. He will be here to help convey the dead to the nearest Temple. It is funny, in a way I gave them exactly what they wanted. Each got entrusted with some of my World.¡±

    Jen shivered, never in her life had she met one of the originals. She came over to her husband a caressed his back gently, letting her fingers play over his muscles. She loved this man, more than just a diety. For her, when she took her vows, they were her marriage vows. They would be life long commitments that would bind her to this man, even if she could never hold him.

    ¡°Grace, you still haven¡¯t answered his question,¡± Jen said gently.

    ¡°I have,¡± Grim argued with his wife, ¡°Damon does not seek the throne, nor does he have the capability for sorcery. My power was meant for another, one that is no longer with us.¡± he paused with almost a choking sigh. It then registered with Damon why his Father mourned for Faldo. The Grim continued, ¡° The others caused chaos and destruction, as is the usual side effect for those who lust for power. Damon does not seek station nor power, despite outward appearance, his thirst for mayhem is from human nature. It does battle with his incorruptible seed of Order through his kind acts of charity.¡±

    ¡°Everyone has the capability for sorcery. It is just energy driven by purpose.¡±

    ¡°Not Damon, he does not believe in a Purpose. Therefore he cannot work any sorcery.¡± Grim stated firmly turning to stare at his son, ¡°Which is why Damon, you must go to the Underworld carrying my Seed back to the Throne of Judgement, with it without a vessel for my power. It must go on, there must be hope.¡±

    ¡°NO!¡± Jen objected, ¡°He is your heir if you are to disappear. He is all we have left. If you send him to the Underworld, he will die!¡±

    Jen was almost in tears. She had raised Damon from a baby and now he was also the son of her husband, making him soon to be her Master. She would protect him at all costs. The thought of losing both of them almost paralyzed her with grief.

    ¡°I cannot go there, nothing but death goes there. I will die.¡± Damon said visibly shaking, ¡°No one may enter the Gatehouse portals while living.¡±

    ¡°No, you may not, not yet at least.¡± The Grim said to Damon standing and giving him a hand up off the bank, ¡°You have three years, during that time you will slowly come into your inheritance. It will be an interesting three years. Think of it as puberty for the immortal and on your twentieth Grim-Tide, in three years, you pass into immortality, but you are different, in that you are an immortal with a soul. Go to the City of the Dead, to the Seat of Judgement and take the Throne. It will, how should I say it, replant my Seed there and allow for my rebirth.¡±

    ¡°What happens to me then?¡± asked Damon, his dark eyes troubled.

    ¡°I truly don¡¯t know son. I have Lucy pouring over prophecy as we speak. If she finds something, she will send a reaper. You can see them now. She has kept her ability to control them, even after death.¡± The Grim said affectionately, ¡°She has been a good steward for me, and for the next three years, she can handle things for you in the Underworld. Order forbid something to happen where I cannot return, she will make a good steward for you after too, don¡¯t get rid of her.¡±

    ¡°What do we do during the intervening years?¡± Jen questioned her husband as she stretched, rubbing a fist in the small of her back, making her chain armor jingle softly.

    ¡°Well, there is a town to rebuild, Sorcerers to chase out of the East, and my grandchild to watch over but there is one more thing that I might have left out.¡± The Grim said, a slightly mischievous grin.

    ¡°What is that,¡± Damon said.

    ¡°The Seed of Destruction will be sown the minute I am gone.¡± The Grim said ominously in a deep rumble, ¡°You won¡¯t be alone in your search for the Seat of Judgment.¡±

    ¡°And what if I don¡¯t want to be the damn Seed of Grim?¡± Damon spat back a little defiantly. Two days ago he had enough problems being the Matron¡¯s son and now here he was expected to take some damnable throne. It put him in a poor temperament and his nerves were frayed almost to the limits.

    ¡°Then Destruction wins,¡± Jen said softly looking off towards the smoldering Tharpe making Damon¡¯s blood run cold.

    Thomas crept into Bethel¡¯s dim tent slowly as to not draw attention from the stray wanderer outside, watching her shadowy shape slumber. After the night everyone had, the camp was slumbering through the morning. His Aunt had been disgraced and turned into a recluse. Bethel had not been seen nor heard from since the battle. He understood she had to be in mourning, so he would stop in and cheer her day up. It was a freezing day, and her braziers were unlit, she obviously needed extra warmth under the covers.

    When he found his armor in a wreck, it had put him in a foul mood, and normally Bethel soothed those moods. She had taken and shown him the real way of Order when his mother wanted to go off and study in a monastery because she felt the calling to be a healer. She had abandoned her thirteen-year-old son, to that wretch of a father. The drunk old soot died two years later in his sleep, leaving Thomas without house nor food. Old Matron Suz had come to deal with the body and inquired on his welfare and relatives. Bethel was the only living relative left to him.

    Bethel took him into her house to raise with her six-year-old son, his cousin Damon. The damn boy lived up to his namesake and was a little demon. That was shortly before she left to go with old Suz to chase down Bethel¡¯s husband, Rascus. During the intervening months, Thomas and Damon were cared for by Jen. Damon had never had a sibling and wasn¡¯t about to share his mother. Damon constantly got the older youth in trouble with Jen during that time with the help of Damon¡¯s friend Faldo. Thomas was much bigger and thrashed him for years afterward in revenge for what a little shit he was.

    Bethel came back changed, and now as Mother Matron, she found him some work on the Guard to keep the troubled youth busy. As his muscle built, so did the Matron¡¯s interest in him. The more the interest built, the less trouble Thomas found himself in. Thomas found he liked the attention and reciprocated it innocently. At first, it was just a touch here or a comment there. But that first encounter with her at the Temple taught him more about a woman than all the whores at the Three Pigs. She snared him when she offered him promotion over the others for continued service at the Temple with her.

    He was sure that her behavior yesterday was because the Grim was there, but she was no longer his wife. There was no reason they could not continue their arrangements again. Thomas slipped closer to her cot where she slumbered and rubbed his hand up her firm thigh in his way of introduction, and she stirred, murmuring softly. He stood and undid his pants buckle, letting them fall to the floor with a clank.

    Bethel came out of her bed with a sudden lurch, her long steel grey hair cut to a short stubble and hard gray eyes blazing. There was a knife clutched in her hand as she landed on top of him, with his pants trapping his ankles, knocking him to the ground. Her hand reached down and grabbed a handful of his intended entertainment proposition, and she held her knife threateningly to it. Thomas shuddered with pain, as he could feel Bethel¡¯s hot breath against his cheek as she looked him up and down unapprovingly.

    ¡°This is wrong in the eyes of Order, a sin,¡± She hissed, angrily ¡°Repent, for I am here to drive the sin from the land. To stop the Chaos from spreading, Repent.¡± She repeated louder as her anger grew.

    Thomas whimpered, and she pressed her blade down into his groin, drawing a little blood, letting it flow in a small trickle to between his legs and he wailed, a screech howling between his lips. Isobelle came quickly through the tent flap and grabbed Bethel¡¯s hands, pulling them upwards, forcing the disgraced Matron to stand.

    ¡°Cease this now Bethel.¡± She commanded as applied pressure to points in Bethel¡¯s wrist and made the knife fall from her nerveless fingers. The sharp point pierced Thomas¡¯s leg on its journey to the floor. He howled like a wounded Demon, and Isobelle silenced him with a skeptical look. She reached between his legs to remove the blade, looking with satisfaction at his battle wounds.

    ¡°This man tried something against the natural Order he must be punished,¡± Bethel said adamantly, her grey eyes still blazing indignantly.

    Isobelle looked back at his bleeding leg and groin then back at Bethel,  ¡°I think he has, he won¡¯t try it again. Will you?¡±

    Thomas shook his head furiously from where he sat on the floor, side to side, with tears streaming down his face. Bethel nodded her head in acceptance, the simply tuned to go back to bed as if nothing had occurred. Isobelle eyed Thomas¡¯ red face with a knowing smile.

    ¡°I trust you won¡¯t mention this, will you?¡± He asked wincing in pain while pulling up his pants gently.

    ¡°Now why would I spread such a horrible story like that?¡± she asked her bell-like laughter peeling as she walked out of the tent.