《Dungeon》


 Prologue

    Dungeon


    Part One: Heart of The Deep


    Prologue: Wayward


    The sands reached onwards, a harsh and arid land, ever changing ever shifting, inconstant, and stained with blood. A light wind came down toppling dunes, only the sands helping to mask therancour that rose fromthe cooling dead. Leaving him to stand there; awestruck, while about him the world turned.


    It was quiet now, the battle had ended, and man and beast lay side by side within the desert sands, it was treacherous terrain for native and foreigner alike. But they had held the advantage of numbers, of weapons, of tactics; and that was why they treated the wounded, that was why the sickly whimpers still wafted out upon the burning breeze. While a field of corpses rotted beneath the eastern sun. Hordes of men, armed and armoured picked through the debris, salvaging, armour and iron from friend and foe alike. And where they found a man still alive, they dragged him out of the field and towards the line of tents beyond for what ever hope remained within the fallen form.


    They stretched to the skyline rising over the dunes and resting on the arid earth, cones of coloured fabric, orange, white, purple, all shades caught within the haze of heat blending into a blurry line as soon as ones gaze wavered. A temporary outpost for the forty-second battalion, on their way north to reinforce the front-line against the natives. Soon enough they would trade in the open deserts for dense forests and enemies that flitted through them like the god damn wind. Still he could not see the horrors there being worse than the ones before him.


    ¡°Oswald: staring will do you no good. Get to work.¡± The voice was harsh and heavy, yet suffused with a weary tone that matched the man¡¯s downcast eyes.Oswald turned to stare backwards at his squad leader. The man dressed like all the rest, a white gambeson, and iron helmet, with leather vambraces strapped to arms and shins. Only the short-sword gleaming at his hip marked him as other than a regular peon. But his gaze was soon returned to the corpse before him, towering above him.


    ¡°How many died?¡± His question lingered for a moment, a few other men from his squad joining the Sergeant.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to know.¡± The old man replied fingering the sword at his waist, a harsh light swiftly bursting to life in his eyes as a desert wind began to rise. And they faced the dissenter in their ranks.


    ¡°Then there were the ships, how many died just coming here?¡± Oswald continued his questionshanging in the scorchedair, contention brewing between him and the forces behind him as his voice steadily rose in pitch. ¡°How many others have died, how many good men were lured here by their faith, only to have themselves delivered to their god? How many have died for the promise of gold and riches, killed before a single copper could grace their palms? How many people have died from the lies they have been feeding us!¡± His screams, dying softly on the eastern wind as they blew once more across the field pushing the clouds above to part.


    And so was revealed within a beam of light; its form. That of a corpse standing over twenty-feet high, a mass of muscle and fat, a hairless scalp, with small beady eyes, hands able to grind flesh and bone alike to a bloody gristle. four tusks sprouting from its lower jaw; and upon the battle field a force of destruction that could only be conjured by the very forces of hell. That was an ogre.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The tears leaked down from corners of his eyes, it wasn¡¯t what he had wanted, this wasn¡¯t why he came here. ¡°And you, what lie did you fall for, what lie will you die for?¡± The Sergeant mocked marching up to his subordinate grabbing a tight hold of Oswald¡¯s collar and tossing the young man back. His head struck hard, jostling him - a short bout of pain ringing through his skull as his helmet struck the fallen monstrosities knee-cap ¡°Pull yourself together. Those of us who survive this trial will be rewarded. Richer than any king and with the power to boot. But you won¡¯t get none of that by philosophising. Now do your¡¯ gods damn job and gather what you can, or you¡¯ll be joining the wounded back at camp!¡± He yelled drawing his short-sword from the scabbard at his side. His eyes burning with indignation, and a mix of fear, a cut opening on the old man¡¯s scalp to bleed down across his face.


    Rebellion must be quelled.


    Oswald stared upwards at the blade pointed square between his eyes, watching as the sun glinted off its edge, and he remembered ever so briefly why he came to this god¡¯s forsaken land. ¡°I... want adventure.¡± He whispered rising slowly taking his spear in one hand, wiping tears awaywith the other ¡°I wanted an adventure, that was it.¡±


    A snort sounded further back in the crowd, a young man fixing his gaze upon Oswald; a mix of pity and humour in his eyes; ¡°Well I¡¯d say you damn found one!¡± He laughed inspecting the corpse of a dead soldier before removing its helmet and throwing it in a hemp sack besides him. No one else laughed though, they could tell this was neither the time nor the place.


    Oswald stared at them, each and every one; their eyes were defeated, down to a man. One battle had done this; just one, but it had brought them to the realisation they would die in this foreign land, without a glimpse of home. Would he be satisfied? Would Will?


    He already knew the answer.


    Oswald took the straps keeping his gambeson in place unlatching each one, allowing the padded armour to fall to the ground besides him. He slammed the butt of his spear into the earthforcing it to stand upright as he undid each of the braces on his arms and legs casting them too into the sand. Soon he was dressed only in his helmet, and a once white shirt, now stained by travel and the flecks of blood from men and beast alike. And yet with little else to his name he turned and began to walk. ¡°Recruit get back here!¡± The sergeant yelled, Oswald hearing the footsteps close behind muffled by terrain. But he did not flinch, instead walked with an even pace his eyes fixated ahead so clearly one would think him possessed.


    Behind him the sergeant stood sword raised high to strike his insubordinate recruit down.


    But before the blow could land, the sound of steel ringing off of steel tore through the stillair. And standing between the two of them, the sergeant and the deserter, stood an officer. Steel armour was placed over his gambeson the braided ropes hanging about his neck dictating his rank as a platoon commander. ¡°Let the fool go. For a boy whocould not even face agoblin; we have no need. The desert will take care of him for us.¡± The commander smirked pale blue eyes flickering out to watch as Oswald froze, before he muttered his reply.


    "Would not, not could not.¡± He spoke at last, refusing to turn to meet the mans gaze , the wind rising in his wake, as he marched ahead into that endless sea of sand.


    His life and death, now the in the throes of fate.

 Chapter One: Night Song

    Chapter One: Night Song


    It was the sound of footsteps that woke him, so light they could have walked upon the breeze. And in an instant the world exploded about him. He could feel the warmth of the sun and the cold of the stone wall upon his back, hear the songof birds, see the blue of the sky above. As his eyes opened they fxed themselves upon the figure, the source of the footsteps, a silhouette against the noon sun. ¡°I told you, you can¡¯t sneak up on me Will.¡± Oswald yawned, twisting his head to face his friend. William Arwood stood stock still, caught likethe deer in a hunter''s sights.


    A tense moment rested between the two young boys, before a weary breath escaped him andWill fell backwards onto the grass. ¡°I thought I had you that time" The yougn boy sighed a glum expression casting a paul over otherwise handsome features, before a twist of the lip set the boy to grinning. "living out in the woods, has turned you into a superhuman, are you sure you''re not part dog?¡± He laughed crossing his arms as he took a sitting position staring at Oswald as his friend lay prone upon the wall, unconcerned with the barb. ¡°So did you get your months allowance?¡± Will questioned removing a small copper coin from his pocket.


    Oswald assumed the same position as his friend pulling the backpack that had acted as his pillow onto his lap withdrawing a small metal box from a side pocket of the worn leather bag. He flipped the lid open with a snap to reveal a single copper coin resting inside before slamming the cover shut and slipping it away into a loop of his belt. ¡°Yep, Let¡¯s get going!¡± Oswald declared a wide grin escaping across his face, his eyesswelling with a childishglee. He leapt from the wall stretching as he landed on soft grass William slowly rising to his own feet. And so the two young boys began their march towards the country town of Tenmere, resting gently in the distance.


    ¡°You know I don¡¯t get why you spend all your money on the library, aren¡¯t woods-men and hunters like you supposed to be illiterate buffoons who''d rather use a book for kindling than reading. I''d wager you''re the most well read person int his.¡± Will mocked his tone light, followed by a grin. Oswald just nodded at his friend looking over a scrap of cloth he''d written a list on in charcoal. William shook his head, knowing full well nothing would distract him when he was like this, instead he put his attention on their surroundings as they crested the small hill to the southwest, one of three such hills which formed a dimmit in which the town of Tenmere rested. Tenmere;a small village that had expanded monstrously in recent generations. There were no less than eighty houses, each one home to a family of between three and eight people, as far as towns went Tenmere was of the larger variety, its size and prosperity meaning it wasn¡¯t just a small blip on the map. For decades the town had been small only mining salt until someone discovered Iron in the nearby hills, turning Tenmere into the half-way point on the route towards the iron mines that skirted the welsh border. Being the last line of comfort facing an untamed wilderness really would loosen the average merchant¡¯s purse.


    Oswald took a brief moment to look up from his notes as they began the descent a warm smile on his face, he had never really considered the town his home, but he loved it anyway. It was always interesting to see the comings and goings of such a busy place. He could only imagine what a true city looked like, but within that little village he felt somewhat connected to the wider world. A world he hoped to see one day.


    The Duo descended the hill at a fairpace passing by the wooden palisade standingfirm around the town, as theyentered the noisy din of a travellers rest. The main road was dotted with inns and shops, selling all manner of goods, from iron-works to groceries, the lack of regular residences meaning the street was at least moderately clean. Of course turn down a back alley and you¡¯d find yourself wading through human refuse dumped out of windows in the middle of the night. So most reasonable people stuck to the tried and true paths through the town, the two boys being no exception.


    The busy season would be starting any time now and that would mean the town would be swamped with incoming and outgoing guests, mainly merchants come to buy iron, or miners stopping for supplies they couldn¡¯t get in their village of lean-tos and half formed shacks. All as people began to prepare for the next fleet of ships to leave the British shore and head straight for the holy war.


    After all war meant weapons, and weapons meant iron.


    Of course this change in the local economy wouldn¡¯t affect him all too much. Oswald lived with his father and mother out in the woods, a true hunter¡¯s life devoid of all but the barest human contact. And usually, normal circumstances withstanding, Will was said contact. It was a friendship born of equal parts lonlyness and awe, for each friend desired to be more like the other.


    The two boys closed on their quarry walking in step, Oswald¡¯s heart slowly gaining pace as he neared that low building, which unlike all other businesses on the high-street held no sign hanging before its door to lure in the wealthy and drunk alike. Instead only a series of large print words painted atop the doorway gave the institution a name; The Tenmere Library. The only reason Tenmere could even afford a library, was due to one of its former mayors, who himself had been a former merchant. The man had then left all the books in his possession to the town, so that anyone who could read would be able to enjoy the vast knowledge contained within: for a fee of course. Oswald grinned pushing aside the door and jogging towards the front desk, the librarianwaiting for their arrival as was customary on this most obnoxious day of the month. The man hufffed staringdown at them from on high. He looked the same as usual, the same as always. The old man had a thin rat-like face, and a variety of missing teeth, his skin pockmarked and every feature of his body sharp and cutting. As the two young men approached he unfurled one hand, a look of disdain passing over his face, his variety of wrinkles shifting with it.


    The boys put on equally sour expressions at the thought of the dealing with the librarian. Still each one withdrew their copper coin and placed it in the mans hand.¡°Need I remind you, only twenty-four-hours.¡± The old man rasped leaning over the counter to look down at them, ¡°Or we will have to get the guards involved again.¡± The man leaned back into his wooden chair to stair downwards at a small wooden puzzle he had solved a thousand times before and began to re-assemble once again.


    Oswald ignored the man¡¯s warning, as he usually did pushing aside the door and making his way into the library. Will following behind him, a rather tame expression of excitement in his eyes. Well it wasn¡¯t surpising Will could afford to visit the library whenever he liked. But Oswald treasured these visits, for in these books he could see and hear things that he never could have, even in his wildest and most elaborate dreams.But as they entered the large room, one side filled to the brim with books of all description and descriptions, the two began their usual ritual.


    Oswald started by searching the shelves, first for the books he¡¯d decided he wanted to catch up on, and then he moved to the corner where the books he hadn¡¯t yet finished rested side by side to make his selection. Twenty-four hours, that really wasn¡¯t long enough to read all of the books he wanted, however the size of the tomes compiled with the density of images and simple language meant he could push through roughly fifteen before he ran out of time. And so his marathon began.


    He worked as fast as his mind and body allowed dumping the pile of books besides the table in the back of the room, meanwhile Will set up a number of candles about said table. Each candle would last for maybe four hours, so just under four candles would last him through the night. Will finished his assortment of jobs in preparation for the long night aheadselecting a single book at random from the shelves before dropping down besides Oswald¡¯s table and beging to skim over its contents . ¡°Just two more months and you¡¯ll have read every book in here huh, I don¡¯t get why you love this so much.¡± Will gave him a weary smile as he spoke, reaching up to rub his eyes clear of dust and fatigue. Oswald huffed a response his tone glib and light-hearted


    ¡°You¡¯re the one that taught me to read, what kind of friend would I be if I didn¡¯t put your effort to good use?¡± He flipped open the cover of an unread book releasing a large cloud of dust into the air, causing Will to burst out coughing.


    ¡°And I learnt hunting from you, but I can still never sneak up on you.¡± Will replied as his lungs fought against him.


    ¡°You just need practice, you were a lot closer this time than you were last time, besides you¡¯re not really built for hunting, it¡¯s amazing you got as far as you did.¡±


    Oswald smiled to his friend, Will returning the grin as they fell into a warm silence hours slowly passing by. And as the sun set in the window high above, the shadows within the library growing thicker climbing ever upwards, shifting and fading as the clouds twisted in the sky beyond. Until Oswald lit a candle to keep the night at bay and to iluminate the dusty page before him..


    Then as the twelfth hour neared, a scream issued forth, chilling the blood of all who heard.


    It wasn''t human; Oswald could tell that much, the tone was strange, a wild mix of pitch and volume that wavered in the night. He moved of instinct rising to his feet, sending his chair to clatter to the floor behind him, waking William who had fallen into a gentle slumber besides the desk. "What is it?" The startled young man asked, his dirty blonde hair falling into his eyes as Oswalds began to run towards the door his joints popping as he went.


    That cry was familiar, he''d never heard a beast make a sound like that before. But he could understand it all the same, the fear and the hatred contained within. A desperate plea for hope if ever there were.


    The duo passed through the libraries foyer pushing aside the doors and startling the librarian his now complete puzzle tumbling to disassemble itself as it struck the floor. Oswaldpaid it no mind, his eyes going wide as he burst into the street, suprised at the light waiting for him.Day had set long ago, the sun having disappeared below the horizon, not a speck of natural light within the cloudy sky above. Itonly added to the horror of the scene.


    And as the two boys stared outwards, as they watched the procession march; they saw two very different scenes.


    Oswald held his breath, his dark eyes catching the clicker of their torches, parading in a line they came, carriages mounted with cages; vile beasts contained within. Goblins, as tall as a man but thin and sickly of appearance there skin of varying shades from autumn leaf yellow to a pale pneumonic blue. And there within the cages they sat, eyes wide and staring, mouth clenched tightly, faces betraying, neither hatred nor rage, but a quiet lonely despair that seemed allmost human. For wagons in all, each loaded to the brim with goblins trundled past, their slender bodies packed so tight they pressed against the bars, the ocasional howl and screech from one or the other followed by mutterings in a strange language only deepened Oswald disgust. He couldn''t stand it, seeing the scene, how could they be monsters, how could anyone seeing the scene call them monsters as human men and children left their houses for the sole purpose of laughing and jeering at the captives, hurling stones flying throuhg the air to pelt them. But that wasn''t the worst of it. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Behind the carriages they trudged; Trolls. Each one of the creatures was at least eight-feet tall and even then they were on the shorter side. Their skin was either green or brown and covered in dark patches, their hide was rough border-tales speaking of the creatures as allmost indestructable with the unnatural ability to heal their wounds overnight only to come hunting the next day. There heads were round and mounted on their shoulders with next to no neck, there eyes small and varying shades while there arms and legs hung and wavered limply in the cold air, thick as tree trunks and heavy as stone chained with heavy iron queezed so tight it dug into the skin, dark abrasions and infection appearing wherever the iron touched. And at the back of the line a young troll crawled a soldier stood above. He carried a club in hand yelling obcenities the creature wouldn''t under beating at it to be silent before slamming his foot into the creatures turned ankle when a shout from the front came down. These people had no use for a slave that could not work, and even if the injury was but a temporary thing easily healed; they didn''t have the patience to wait. Oswald looked away, he didn''t want to see any more, turning his eyes from the light, as a wave of screams ripped through the air.


    He waited for a long moment, for the sounds to die down, even the jeering townsfolk seemed put off by the casual display of brutality by the men in soldiers uniform. Oswald turned his gaze backwards to see the line of carts moving along, a corpse left in the middle of the street, William staring ahead, still as a statue, frozen in shock. Oswald reached out placing a hand on his friends shoulder. "Let''s go back inside." Oswald whispered hoarse. William just nodded in silence contemplating what he had just witnessed entering the libraries foyer once more.


    The librarian sat there waiting, headon his hands glaring at the two children who had startled his sleep, running his hands over the reassembledpuzzle before him. A scowl furrowed the old man¡¯s brow as he righted himself before a wicked sneer stretching over his rat-skin face. He reached out beckoning once more, ¡°You left the library, one copper for admission.¡± The man sneered, a cruel light in his eyes.


    Oswald stood still for a moment, his former sentiments vanished beneath a wave of righteous indignation as he looked this man in the face. A smile crossedOswalds lips as he stepped upwards placing his hands of the counter, taking in a deep breath.


    ¡°You Bastard!¡± he screamed banging his fists against the desk before launching into a tirade.


    The guards arrived eight minutes later.


    <hr>


    The desert stretched on without end, rising and falling in waves, as the dawn far behind began to rise. The night fled, along with his dreams, his eyes closed, as he could feel the first hints of warmth dancing over his skin. The light painted the sand all manner of shades, red encroaching upon a dying violet that retreated with the dark. And from the dunes a shape began to rise. Sand slid about him as he stood at his full height, Oswald looking out for the umpteenth timeon a scene that almost never changed, at least to his eyes.


    He stared into the distance searching for that shape upon the horizon, his mind turning back to his dream, of the days before they had ventured into this barren wastetogether. Before they had entered this hell on earth.


    The desert was harsh, it was a land that brought death to any who entered it, the fact he had survived several weeks within that god forsaken corner of the world could only be described as a miracle, or perhaps a torment. He had begun to wonder whether it would be better if he simply dropped down dead, It would certainly be easier than wandering through the empty land until exhaustion and heat took their toll.


    After leaving the crusaders to their gory work, he had wandered the sands for days, the only items at his disposal a small survival kit containing a thin knife, a few spools of twine and various metal loops, along with a large water canteen he had taken when he left. Those had been the keys to his survival. One mouthful of water, each day, that was all he could afford, and as for food, the only meal he had had since entering that abominable land was desert-rat, each one the size of a small cat, their skin like wrinkled leather. He''d roasted them over the dead branches of withered bushes wherever he could find them, it was horrid, but it kept him from deaths door another day. And it was a a little over a week prior, by his poor reckoning that he had run out of water.


    Surviving on the bare minimum was difficult, each breath through burning lungs scorched his chest, but surviving off of nothing? impossible. That was when he had the city. It had risen from the sand like an oasis, its walls carved sandstone a village sprawling before its walls. It was the largest city he had ever seen but for the distant shape of constantinople on his trip across the desert after his sea-voyage with the crusaders. He had dropped to his knees then and there crawling to a well, drinking as much as he felt he could handle before dunking in his canteen and filling to the brim. He had just enough time for that before the guards appeared. He had been naive enough to believe his salvation lay there that city sprouting from the desert like a miracle. It seemed he had forgotten exactly what he was; a foreigner in a savage land come only to declare war against the natives, human and monster alike.


    The guards had come with the call of the citizens, at least he assumed they were guards. They were all dressed alike, twisted rags wrapped about their heads, their torso''s bear and rippling with muscle, while baggy trousers gathered about their ankles. Each one carried both sword and spear, even if they held no armour or shield they seemed formidable to a half starved wretch. And even without the use of their language Oswald understood he had to leave.


    After that brief tragedy he had followed the line between theempty desert andthe low mountains of craggy stone, until three days prior when he had seen it in the distance. It might have just been a trick of the light, of the heat and the desert, but he could swear he saw a lone mountain rising from the sands. And so; dehydrated, and nearing death he could do no more than follow that shade, for what little time he had left on earth.


    But even now it wasn¡¯t much more than a speck in the distance, he could barely see it, and was beginning to suspect it was no more than a spectre of his mind. He stood eyes staring bleakly as he moved to take the first step on another weary day; wondering if it would be his last.


    Oswald reached down tapping the empty canteen at his side smiling, the pain had stopped long ago. His throat no longer itched when he breathed, it was just dry, like the desert sand, a dull gurgle following from his throat and the film of mucus that had built up within. He wondered what he looked like now, he knew his hair had grown long after the months at sea, and his eyes were now sunk deep into his skull from his deadly journey through the sands. He could see his skin darkened,slowly flaking away and cracking; it was a horrible way to die, but he could barely register the pain. Instead he continued his journey, sand falling from the folds of his clothes as he went, wondering if he¡¯d reach his illusion before his death.


    But as he began his daily journey he heard it, biting through the air, as the deserts temperature settled between hot and cold to a comfortable degree, that would last but a few minutes. At first he couldn¡¯t understand it, what he was hearing, the sound of dogs, barking and braying through the early morn dismissing it as yet another illusion to cloud his mind. But then he saw them in the distance, followed by a cloud of sand, men on sleds pulled by packs of wild dogs and he began to doubt.


    Oswald stared for a long moment, wondering whether madness had finally dug its way into the very depths of his brain. But as he saw them move drawing closer, he realised they were real, when they broke through the haze of heat, he could see their forms clearly and knew his mind could not have conjured such creatures. Goblins, tall as a man, but thin; their mouth, nose, eyes and teeth sharp, all these features showcased in vicious war-cries as they rode strait at him. Oswald then gathered what senses were left to him and did the only thing he could.


    He ran.


    He stumbled slightly as he began, weakened and fatigued he barely moved faster than a slow trot, his foes gaining on him by the second. But he kept moving, his feet sinking into the sand as his gaze was fixed upon the dark blur in the distance, his only vague hope of salvation at least in his own head.


    And as he ran his mind focused, became sharp and clear for the first time in a long time, and asthe fog inside his head dissipated the aches and pains of his body that he come to ignore began to fade beneath adrenaline.His heart raciedso fast and so weak, knowing he was about to die. He didn¡¯t even notice it, as his bare feet landed on solid stone leaving the sands behind. But even then the sleds were drawing closer, less than twenty metres away and moving fast. Oswald stumbled then falling on his hands and knees, bowing on the cracked earth, sending up a small cloud of dust. And he paused looking upwards into the slit eyes of a scaled face


    Oswald screamed, a half-hearted, sun burnt cry as the snake before him reeled back. The sides of its neck flared up; the cobra just as surprised at having a human fall before it as he was. Oswald didn¡¯t think, relying on the instincts his father had cultivated in him, rolling to the side before the snake launched itself past him. The beast landed in a heap, Oswald turned grabbing it byits'' tale and throwing it at the goblin sleds as hard as infirm body allowed. Oswald did not turn to watch what happened next, as the snake flew amongst the dogs of the sled leading the charge.


    The snake landed on the cracked earth raising itself as high as it could, to ward off the dogs moving in. And as it rose the dogs paniced grinding to a halt the sled triping upwards and sending the goblin careening into the second sled which had just passed it by. The sled collapsed the dogs rugging against the reins of the pile of groaning goblins as the third and slowest rider drew to a halt before the wreckage and began trying to help his fallen comrades.


    Unaware of the events behind him Oswald ran heedless, a vague sense of excitement filling his heart. He had had a good life that was certain he had lived well and done almost everything he had wanted to. But there was one thing, one regret that pushed him forwards, that moved him beyond his natural limits towards the dark mound risingto the sun and towards the figures he could barely see; stood before the mouth of the cave. His hope burning brighter than ever before, even as fell towards the desert earth.


    Oneregret. For fate was cruel.


    But man is stubborn.


    So even as he fell, as he collapsed against the dirthe continued to move, he stared ahead and with bloodied fingers he clawed dragging himself onwards, the hope within him a roaring inferno before its end. For as his mother had once told him ¡®there is no worse fate than dying without hope.¡± He believed that to be true, he would not die with such a sorry regret. If he just reached them, then perhaps by some twist of fate he could live. But as that thought crossed his mind, his heart slowed down, his eyes drooping low, his hand grasping outwards reaching towards them, his finger tips resting in a pool of shadow.


    That was when he felt it, the cool palm upon his brow, a brief flutter of life flowing into his body. His gaze drawn upwards towards them, a child and a man looking down at him, but he could tell no more, with failing eyes. His vision going dimas the world about him was lost in night. And Oswald Faun slipped away into the dark.

 Chapter Two: Wide Eyed

    Chapter Two: Wide Eyed


    ¡°Are you aware?¡± The question thunderedthrough the room, passing through the floor, through the walls, leaving the marble busts nestled in their alcoves, in the hall beyond, quivering. As herose from his chair, a living mountain; Cordant Orn.He towered above the dark wooden desk stacked with papers his eyes glaring down at the man before him, anger radiating outwards


    In a world where ¡®giant¡¯ was not just a word but a species, that man could do it justice. He stood eight-foot tall and two foot wide, his shoulders broad, as deep set eyes stared out of a dark skinned face, a heavy beard flowing downwards from his chin, dark as clouds of thunder. His eyes burnt a dull red, giving away his inhuman heritage along with his mouth, filled to the brim with large pointed teeth, glinting in the light whenever he spoke so one could see the lines of silver inlaid within. He filled the room, his violent aura bursting forth from him in a tidal wave washing over the man who stood at attentioninfront ofhim, who didn¡¯t so much as flinch.


    ¡°Luscious, are you aware that your¡¯ daughter has brought a human into the city¡± Compared to Cordant, Luscious held fragility, his shoulder were thin, although he did reach six-feet in height. His hair was grey and slicked back, his skin pale from a life-time in the courts. About his neck a braided rope hung, a silver plaque engraved with gold the focus of his apparel - part of the grey uniform he wore to signify his rank ¨C Cordant would not frighten him so easily. Luscious was intelligent, you could see it in his pale blue eyes, he was calculating to the point of being cold, but there was no lack of gentle warmth to temper him. And he knew that this conversation could change the course of his daughter¡¯s life. ¡°You are aware of our current situation, you know about the war?¡± The King accused pushing the window aside to step out onto the balcony, Luscious following three steps behind


    ¡°Of course I know, I have beenrunning the military for the past two years.¡± He replied evenly gauging Cordant¡¯s mood. The large man huffed stepping aside to let Luscious stand beside him as they looked down upon the city.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it beautiful.¡± He sighed staring downwards at the city painted gold in the lantern light. The houses were small built from beaten earth, the same as the roads, and the walls, and everything within the city; sand pilling in street corners blown in from the desert beyond. Yet still it was beautiful, for it was one of the few places of respite within the desert, located many miles beneath the earth where the sun could not scorch, and the water ran fresh from underground reservoirs. It was a paradise like no other. ¡°And they would see it destroyed, these men from across the sea. They come to plunder and kill in the name of their gods!¡± Cordant growled his fist pounding against the banister a faint spider web of cracks exploding through the granite stone. Luscious would need to remember to get it replaced.


    ¡°I know, but...¡± Luscious began, before Cordant turned glaring down at him, a sense of dread leaking out from the man


    ¡°Then tell me why, why do you accept this! This Crusader in our midst?¡± The man¡¯s brow furrowed a faint trail of dark smoke escaping from his mouth. Luscious onlysmiled gently in response,Cordant taking a step back his anger fading to confusion.


    ¡°Do you remember why we made this city, why we founded it together?¡± He questioned leaning over the banister to look down upon the people below. Ordan Castle sat upon a hill, a perfect vantage point, and anear perfect defence. And below him he could see the people move, at the castles foot their stretched an open market, anyone could bring a stall and sell their goods, it was open every Monday and ran from dawn until dusk, and as he watched he couldn¡¯t help but smile.


    ¡°To create a place of peace.¡± Cordant responded crossing his arms over his chest, attempting to find the tack of his friend¡¯s thoughts.


    ¡°For all.¡± Luscious amended as he looked down at the scene below. ¡°I can see so many species here, so many different races; but there is one race we sorely lack. They call us monsters and we call them beasts. It is a cycle, one we must break.¡±


    Silence reigned over the balcony, for a long time neither man moved, Luscious looking at the streets below while Cordant stared ahead trying to wrap his head around the proposedIdea. Andas atlasta heavy sigh escaped the giant¡¯s lips, Luscious knew he had won, a smile growing across his own. ¡°Fine fine, I¡¯ll give your¡¯ human a chance.¡± Cordant conceded marching back inside his office to drop himself down into the wooden chair, the stacks of paper on his desk jumping as he landed, the tension coiled up inside his body slowly releasing. ¡°But only a chance, if I think he poses a danger to the safety of this city, I will exile him into the desert.¡± He declared grabbing a quill that seemed unnatural small for his large hands. ¡°Bring him to me as soon as you can.¡±


    ¡°Of course sir.¡± Luscious nodded heading towards the exit, throwing the intricately carved doorsaside.


    Cordant shook his head, he should have expected this from the beginning, The man only ever treated him with a modicum of respect when he wanted something. His wife was right he truly was a push-over. Cordant shook his head staring down at the piles of paperwork assigned for him a groan leaking from him as he began to ink his quill. But before he could put pen to paper Luscious paused within the doorway turning to face him, ¡°oh and just so you¡¯re aware Nab has already formed the contract with him.¡± Luscious exited leaving the statement to hang in the air.


    Cordant sat in his chair for a long time after that, thinking over what Luscious had just told him, before a laugh burst forth from the gargantuan man. Things had been so peacefully lately he almost felt bored, even with a war on the horizon. But at the very least this new human would provide a much needed source of entertainment; if he could be trusted.


    <hr>


    [Oswald Faun]


    His eyews were open but he could not see.


    Oswald lay there staring upwards letting the light wash overhim as his dreams swiftly fell away. The world returned about him, the bed hard beneath his back but for a pillow under his head, and the blanket covering his chest. But his eyes were still bleary unable to see anything clearly, leaving him recalling the dream he had just woken from before it vanished forever. He remembered being underwater, that was it, he had been underwater staring upwards, watching as the waves ahead bent the light of the ocean. It was strangely fitting he should dream of water while trapped in the desert. And his mind gained some form of clarity the dream quickly lost, disappearing into day. Leaving Oswald staring at a ceiling, one he didn¡¯t know.


    It was made from beaten earth and straw supported by a wooden frame. A sleeping lantern hung from one corner where the roof was blackened, though the large window in the walllet in enough light to let him know it was day.


    He lay there for a long moment, his only conscious thought the revelation that he was still alive. Until the realisation crossed his mind; that he couldn¡¯t have survived the desert without injury. The thought seemed sobering slowly filling him with dread as he began twitching his hands and feet, searching for the phantom pains the amputee soldiers always described.


    But as he shuffled moving ever so slightly beneath the blankets he could tell his limbs were still attached, actually they seemed entirely clear of pain. It was hard to believe that he had survived within the desert for nearly three weeks, but to survive without injury; that seemed impossible. But by the dull throbbing ache that racked his head and the sensation of his stomach turning slowly eating away at itself from the inside out he knew he couldn¡¯t be in heaven, and the lack of fire and brimstone more or less ruled out hell or at least he thought so. He never had paid that much attention in church. Tenmere held patronage to the Goddes Siran of law, so he¡¯d found the whole thing rather tedious. On the other hand, he knew all the laws that governed the ¡®civil¡¯ world and how to exploit each of them.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    He moved slowly his aching joints popping as he moved, rising like a corpse from the grave his hollow cheeks and sunken eyes making it fairly easy to mistake him for the living dead. Oswald shuddered at the thought, England rarely had much trouble with the un-dead, but he couldn¡¯t shake the stories of his youth.


    Oswald froze then a faint form appearing in the corner of his vision. He turned slowly eyes gazing towards the man whosat squat upon a stool a gruff expression etched into his face. Well he said ¡®man¡¯ what he really meant was dwarf, the man facing him was a dwarf. Dwarves were a race native to the northern portion of the globe, fierce fighters and the greatest weapon smiths on the face of the gods¡¯ green earth;well known for their'' skill they were respected not to mentiontheir brash, impulsive, brazen personalities fuelled by centuries of clan infighting and a passionate hatred of anything to do with elves. He stood no more than four-foot high, and two-foot wide; stocky in the extreme. His arms were broad, heavily muscled from a lifetime of hard labour. Runic symbols were tattooed up and down his body ending before his neck from which a cord of braided iron hung a pale bronze tag resting at the end, inlaid with rivers of gold and silver, a mass of fine print covering the metal, in a remarkable display of workmanship.


    And if that wasn¡¯t enough proof that the man before him was indeed a dwarf, there was also the mass of scraggly black and grey hair, as well as the monstrous nose and forehead, marking him clearly as a Scottish-highland dwarf, explaining the faint almost untraceable accent. ¡°So you¡¯re still alive soldier boy?¡±


    ¡°I... am?¡± Oswald questioned, his gaze drifting for a moment to take in the world around him. He was in store room, that much was clear by the amount of random scraps of wood, iron and leather that stood in the crates stacked besides both walls. He was lying on a bench, at the back of the room with a pillow beneath his head and a blanket over his lap; to be fair he¡¯d slept in worse places ¨C though that did not make it any more comfortable.


    ¡°Aye, I thought you were dead when they dropped you at my doorstep. Looked like a corpse.¡± The dwarf scoffed scratching his beard ¡°My wife ¡®ll have lunch done soon. We¡¯ll be keeping ya¡¯ on soup an¡¯ broth though, wife says it¡¯s a bad idea to feed a starvin¡¯ man. Don¡¯t much understand it, but that¡¯s the way it is. We can explain all this then. Bitter truths for sweet meals.¡± The dwarf began to ramble slightly from where he sat uponhis stool hands braced against his knees back turned towards the door which slowly crept open.


    ¡°How did I get here?¡± Oswald questioned, his voice coming out in a sun-burnt rasp as his own skeletal hands clawed at his blanket. ¡°I... I was in the desert, but.¡± The memories seemed so fuzzy, they were slowly gaining definition inside his head, but he couldn¡¯t pick one out of the others. He knew he¡¯d woken up that morning and begun to walk towards the strange shape in the distance, but other than that he only had vague memories of being chased by something he felt wasn¡¯t human... He shook his head, what made less sense was the fact that a Scottish dwarf was in the middle of the desert. He was beginning to question his sanity. Oswald sighing pushing himself backwards to lean against the wall the tension leaving his body, as ever so slowly the door creaked open a small head popping into view beyond the gap. Oswald just catching the movement out of the corner of his eyes


    He sat there watching the face of a young girl slip from behind the door, she was maybe thirteen or fourteen years old, Her hair was a light brown, a wild mess of spikes and thorns that twisted down her shoulders, while her eyes were forest green, reminding him of the oak leaves at the height of summer; a deep shade that lightened under the glower ofsun. But something in her smile unsettled him, like a child that had just found an interesting new toy, and he had the sick sensation that said ¡®new toy¡¯ was him. He shivered meeting her gaze the dwarf spinning around to follow his line of sight.


    The man stood knocking his stool backwards dropping into a low stance as from behind the door the girl darted forcing her way through the gap and rushing towards him, slamming the door in the dwarf¡¯s face. Oswald pulled backwards, drawing his legs near him in case he needed to move, though there was no hostility in the girl¡¯s actions. She stared up at him coming to a halt before his make shift bed grinning up with that same unnerving smile, and a rabid curiosity. ¡°Hey can you tell me about it, what is the world like beyond the city?¡± Her gaze pinned him in place, something about her face ringing through his skull as he desperately tried to remember something, something about how he had arrived in this strange place this ¡®city¡¯.


    Then it came, the flood gates open, a new sense of horror seeping into his heart.


    When he had collapsed there had been no city, just a man and a young girl standing over him, he should have died, he was dying he knew that, but he was sitting there facing this girl in a city, that shouldn¡¯t have existed. Maybe they had carried him? No he would have died by the time they arrived. It made no sense to him. He reached up grasping at his temples as his thoughts turned and twisted jumbling themselves up within his head. Oswald swung his legs over the bed stumbling towards the window set low in the wall, kept from the outside world only by a line of shutters and a few thin wooden bars.


    He threw the shutters aside to gaze out into the street, pausing as his mind failed to comprehend the scene playing out before him


    By then the dwarf had recovered, his face coloured a blotchy red from rage as he grabbed the young girl by the scruff of her neck, holding her in place as she struggled. ¡°Hey Crusader, I¡¯ll explain everythin` so just calm down. Sit down and we can talk.¡± The man attempted to placate as he held the girl still in a strangle-hold keeping her from escape. Oswald wasn¡¯t paying attention though his gaze was fixated on the street beyond, all he could do was watch wide eyed as he knew he had found himself within the very gates of hell.


    A nightmare procession: goblins, kobolds, orcs, bestia, wraiths, trolls even ogres and imps staggered, jogged, marched and strode through dusty streets of beaten earth. He could see creatures the likes of which he had thought impossible beyond the pages of fiction and the confines of the bloody battle-fields. Knockers and Gnolls moved side by side bartering and haggling as they passed markets run by goblins and sidhe. Monstrosities from every corner of the globe had gathered in this ¡®city¡¯. He truly was in the very pit of hell.


    His heart started to beat then, it roared through his skull a violent energy filling his limbs as adrenaline powered him forward bursting through the thin wooden bars of the window ripping the shutters free of their facet a scream escaping his lungs. He couldn¡¯t stand it, he didn¡¯t know what was going on, maybe he really was mad; those thoughts coupled with an overwhelming fear following him as he ran


    He screamed disappearing down a dark alleyway leaving the dwarf to stand alone in the room. Holding a young girl by the neck as she tried to follow the human out of the window. Durre felt his brow crease as he released Nab; the young girl dropping to her hands and knees before him. The dwarf stared down at her anger running like fire through his veins and he released a heavy punch into the back of the girls head. ¡°Damn it! I told you to wait, didn¡¯ I tell you to wait. But no you have to burst in here and cause problems.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the problem, I just wanted to know about the world beyond this city, neither you nor father or uncle will let me leave. It¡¯s your fault!¡± Nab yelled jabbing her finger at him.


    ¡°The problem? The Problem! The problem is we have a terrified human runnin¡¯ ¡®bout the streets screaming bloody murder, an¡¯ now I¡¯ll have to go get him, that¡¯s the gods damn problem.¡± Durre yelled dropping a vicious chop down on the girls head as she tried to stand, sending her sprawling to the floor. ¡°You¡¯re sixteen, it¡¯s about damn time you behave. Now I¡¯m going to go get the poor son of a bitch back, and you¡¯d better not frighten him again.¡± The Dwarf huffed bowing down before on of the crates piled in the corner. From within Durre withdrew a long grey cloak and short thick cluv, he couldn''t remember why he owned either but they woud suit his purpose just well. He nodded before he equipt himself.


    ¡°And you say I¡¯m the one who frightened him.¡± The girl pouted.


    Durre glared at her before jumping out of the broken window rushing out into the street. How a half dead human had just busted through those wooden bars let alone run to the end of the street in the blink of an eye was beyond him. though this human did seem like an odd one.Eh what did it matter he had a human to find.

 Chapter Three: Deep City

    Chapter Three: Deep City


    [Oswald Faun]


    It hurt, he did not know how long he had run but it hurt. He gasped for each breath, each beat of the heart like another hammer blow, his joints cracked; each new step an agony. His body was at its upper most limit, he could push no further, go no further and ever so slowly he began to lose pace.


    After escaping from the dwarf he had run as far and as fast as his legs could carry him. In hindsight it wasn¡¯t the smartest move. He¡¯d pushed his body too far, past its limit; he¡¯d done that twice now, first in order to survive the desert and secondly to escape the dwarf and that girl. He shuddered; right now, this very moment he was standing in a place where no human had stood before. It was an adventure, the kind he had dreamed of long ago. Sitting in the library before mountain after mountain of books, this was what he had dreamed of. But now, standing before it all, his life hanging by a thread, what could he do but fear?


    He panted his body finally grounding to a halt, his lungs burning as if they were choked by flames. He couldn¡¯t do it again he knew that, he couldn¡¯t push past his limits any more, his body ached , it was but a hands breadth from collapse, death was a certainty if he strained his body any further than he already had. But he needed to leave; there was a promise he had to keep.


    But first he should to rest, just for a short while, he needed to rest...


    Oswald paused his vision swimming, the world blurring before him like paint upon a wet canvass, smeared and bent his body falling backwards to prop itself up against a wall.


    He was standing within an alley, bathed in weak light ¨C that of a sunset - the sounds of the busy high street beyond beating like thunder in his skull. He was tired. So very tired. His eyelids fell, sinking shut, darkness spreading as his limbs quickly lost their strength his body slipping down to rest within the sand that seemed to cover the city. And at last the dreams claimed what was left of his frayed mind.


    And there within a city of monsters Oswald Faun slept. Unaware of what his actions would set in motion.


    <hr>


    [Yule Orn]


    The crowd passed, as it did each day. People came and went flowing in undercurrents that no one could quite grasp. They came of all races, all creeds, a city where all were welcome. Ranging in height from two-foot to twenty, colours flashed and blared, bright reds, yellows and blues against pale greys and dark blacks. Cordant was a city of trade. For forty years it had held prominent trade routes to all but one of the nine great cities. They even bartered with human settlements when the occasion arose. And even if the standard market was decreasing due to the war Cordant thrived. But that wasn¡¯t to say the city was not affected by the events of the wider world. No it was plain as day, a tension held within the shoulders, the faintest flicker of the eye. Everyone knew that war was coming. They had lost contact with the great cities of Bost and Amenia long ago, and now it seemed Kaltet would soon be lost, the land Seljuk was slowly falling into chaos and it was only a matter of time before Cordant fell to the crusaders. The worst part was no one was even sure how the humans were defeating the great cities with such ease. Each and every one was a fortress unto themselves, armed and armoured with all that nature and their conventions could supply, and still they were sundered to brick dust and bones leaving only questions behind.


    A sigh escaped her lips, half closed eyes surveying the scene before her; she was tired. Deep rings hung beneath her eyes a sickly black in colour, the result of a four day expedition with the guards; training was brutal. Of course even training had it limits resulting in four days of reprieve to offset the workload. Of course that didn¡¯t mean her mother wouldn¡¯t find some meaningless chore to saddle her width. Three hours! She hadn¡¯t gotten three hours sleep last night, instead one of the maids barged in containing her mother¡¯s latest proclamation.


    She looked down to check the note her mother had given her. Yule squinted looking past the curls and ornamentations to read a rather blunt demand for her to traipse through town and locate a cosmetics store dubbed Arley¡¯s Parlour and obtain something called White base 023. She didn¡¯t understand the need for her mother to buy make up, especially white make up, she was already pale ¨C unhealthily so ¨C it seemed rather redundant. At least she took after her father more than her mother, possessing his own rather tanned complexion. She sighed taking a turn into one of the less lively roads of the market district.


    It had been a while since Yule went out into the city proper; usually her time was spent in the pursuit of other more important things; like defending the city, or in other words swinging at a wooden pole. She didn¡¯t attend the regular schools; her mother demanded she receive tutors, and she had when she was young. She hadn¡¯t lasted a month under their¡¯ suffocating rule before abandoning the pursuit in search of better ways to spend her time. So she had gravitated to the training grounds where her uncle worked. There she had been enchanted by tales the instructors weaved, that of battle against the invasive human forces from the west, and their righteous victories and near defeats that had founded Cordant. It was only natural that she would want to become a soldier herself and surprisingly her mother had no complaints...


    That woman truly was confusing. Yule groaned again, she didn¡¯t understand why her father had married that woman. Part of it must have been due to one political contract or another, but she doubted that would make her father actually marry someone he didn¡¯t like the man was too headstrong. No matter how hard she tried she just couldn¡¯t wrap her head around it.


    Yule continued her search, her gaze passing over the shops, colourful signage dancing before her eyes. The myriad bright colours made her feel somewhat sick inside. She should just get everything over with: Find this shop and buy whatever new cosmetic craze had caught her mother¡¯s eye and find herself once more within the padded sheets of her bed. Yule paused for a moment, a small thought popping into her head. Normally if she was going into town she would drop by Durre¡¯s place, the Old dwarf always was in need of company. That was what Arda said at least, why such a lovely young woman would marry that grumpy oaf she could not fathom. A sigh escaped her lips, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly; Durre was one of the best artificers in the city, it was always good to drop by and see if he had anything new on the shelves anyway; it wouldn¡¯t take long. Yule blinked before shaking her head, she needed to focus and staying awake and getting her idiotic errand over with, the store was just another block away.


    And then out of the blue it appeared, sigh a dazzling red, while the store front was a sickly lime green, decorations hung within the window look out onto the street, row after row of produce visible, a series of almost nauseas smells wafting outwards from the doorway. And before such a task Yule felt fear. She had fought monsters, she had trained for the past ten years until her body was forged into a lethal weapon, and yet before such force she shrunk. Just the mere thought of fashion terrified her. She looked to the women in the street passing about her, sharp gazes turned from the corners of their eyes. They marked her baggy white top, immense sleeves falling past her arms to conceal the muscular body beneath while from her waist descending a skirt that fell to her ankles where wooden sandals rested, a heavy red rope tied about her waist threaded through her families crest embossed up an iron disk on her back. Just because she had no fashion sense did not mean that she couldn¡¯t understand the appeal. It was simply a sacrifice she had to make when becoming a soldier.


    She nodded in an attempt to assure herself before pushing her way into the store. A bell rang above a sharp trill echoing through the air as Yule purveyed the store inside, her gaze that of a seasoned commander. The customers gaze her quick glances beneath wide brimmed hats before one of the clerks, a young elfin man approached. ¡°How may I help you today ma¡¯am?¡± He questioned smiling up at her, talking down to people was awkward.


    ¡°Ah... well do you have any of this?¡± She shoved the piece of paper towards the elf. The young man almost startled before grabbing the note.


    ¡°We do although, and please do not take offence, with your complexion I would advise another product, perhaps...¡± The young man proceeded to babble on about different kinds of makeup dragging her around the shop and forcing her to try some on despite her complaints. She was brought to each and every one of the shops amenities and given a complete over view of their purposes before at last the elf stopped leaving her by the counter an expectant view on his face. ¡°I¡¯m just running an errand... Can you get this for me please?¡± She half whispered her face turned down a heavy blush slowly forming. The young man¡¯s face darkened, a shadowy pall cast over his once fine features. He nodded moving towards one of the rear shelves. Yule felt a slight twinge in her chest ¡°Actually, I did like the look of that, accessory you showed be, the one with the beads.¡± She put in the young man halting before giving a quick nod of the head a small smile reasserting itself on his face.


    <hr>


    Sand and dust filled the air, people laughed and talked each voice so small but slowly growing into a cacophony of sound. They moved in flows, surging here and there from stand to stand, each searching for something, looking for something. And In the Markets of Cordant anything could be found.


    Yule stared on, her gaze dull, her complexion grey, a bag of cosmetics clutched in one hand the other clenching and unclenching. She was late; the bazaar had already opened, thousands of city goers having already streamed into the maze of tents and stalls, booths and bars, sprawling from the castle outwards. Why had she humoured him? The young elf had dragged her to look at all of their merchandise several times over, leaving her with over a dozen products, each costing no more than a few coins, but slowly building to an obnoxious sum. And now the market was thronged with people making it that much harder to navigate. It seemed she wouldn¡¯t be getting to sleep anytime soon.


    As far as she saw it there were only two viable options available. Either she waded through a sea of market goers, facing an onslaught of knees elbows and curses. Otherwise she¡¯d simply slip into one of the nearby alleyways and follow it upwards toward the centre of the bazaar. Yule stood half-lidded eyes shifting from the dark alley towards the living current raging past her. She sighed slipping silently into the alleyway.


    The houses were built close together, with barely enough room to allow her to pass. Anything larger than an orc wouldn¡¯t be able to push through no matter how much they tried. Yule began a steady march lifting her feet high in an attempt from having her feet plastered with sand. Cordant¡¯s only real problem was the sand, it got everywhere, it was out on the street, in people¡¯s homes, everywhere you went there would always be sand. She sighed pushing her pace faster, Cordant was a fairly safe city, perhaps there were a few people of ill-repute but the guards were a rigid order, and having been trained by such a group, she wasn¡¯t afraid of pickpockets, that said common sense argued against her hanging around within dark allies. She just needed to keep going, her home and her bed not far away. She took a turn, moving down a second alley, passing through the channels with a practiced hand moving towards the bazaars centre. After several quick turns down perhaps a dozen streets, the roar of the crowd quickly began to grow. Yule pushed harder her feet dragging leaving trails within the sand while her hand reached out lightly to prop herself up against the wall. She really did need to sleep.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    It hit her in an instant ¨C her vision spinning ¨C Yule sent sprawling to the floor, a jolt rushing through her body, the eyes crashing closed as a dull pain quickly flowed through her side. She responded in an instant a wave of adrenalin pushing past the exhaustion. Yule pushed herself upwards to her feet her hand grasping at the knife fastened at her hip, wild eyes flaring as she turned towards the figure that had sent her tumbling into the sand.


    He lay there, in silence, sallow skin drenched in sweat, he was topless, his ribs clear in the light, lank black hair falling backwards at shoulder height while dull eyes stared useless towards the nearest wall. He looked like a corpse. Yule sighed, the tension leaving her body, she had no idea why a sand wraith was sleeping out in middle of an alley, but undead in general were not well known for their common sense. The man moved slowly pulling in the errant leg that had sent her stumbling into the sand, but quickly a clarity entered his eyes. Near black turning to a warm brown as he leapt to his feet, with an agility that his fragile form belay. Bleary eyes swung about, surveying the scene quickly falling upon her, his expression easing slightly. And then it came over him in a wave, it was practically palpable, the fear that radiated off of him, pure unadulterated terror crashing down in a cascade.


    Yule stepped backwards, looking at the man before her it was like she had just cornered a wild beast. Then Wraith spun his eyes turning from her to spin down to the other side of the alley, searching for an escape. But what he found was something else entirely.


    ¡°I¡¯ve finally found ya lad, you need to come with me, before ya cause a riot!¡± a deep voice boomed echoing through the closed walls, a short cloaked figure carrying a club stepping towards them. The wraith glared towards the dwarf flickering down to the club in his hands and slowly began to walk.


    ¡°Hey what¡¯s going on!¡± Yule shouted stepping forwards, her heat slowly rising in pitch and pace, until it thundered in her ears. She didn¡¯t like this situation not one bit. The Wraith now stood just before the dwarf, a heavy tension hanging within the air, like a bowstring just about to break. And then the arrow flew.


    Yule reached out grasping for the wraith, whatever was going on here was shady, as a future guard wasn¡¯t it her job to stop such things. But in that instant as her hand reached for the man he stepped forwards, his movements like the wind, he leapt forwards a foot planting itself on the dwarf¡¯s chest stomping him down into the sand before the fragile figure quickly vanished down an alleyway with an unnatural speed. The dwarf cursed lying on the ground quickly struggling to stand. Yule approached dagger in hand her gaze focusing down upon the cloaked figure, the blade pointed towards his throat while one hand flipped back the hood.


    ¡°Durre?¡± her voice lingered in the air breaking the tense silence as the dwarf groaned raising himself up.


    ¡°What are you just standing here for, let¡¯s get him!¡±


    <hr>


    One card, It all rested on one card.


    Everything fell on that card, tattered and beaten ¨C turned at the edges ¨C whether he lived or died, the three of clubs would carry him. He clutched it between his fingers a warding talisman. His eyes staring down the bridge of his nose to fix his foes in place. A troll and an orc, under normal circumstances an imp would stand no chance going head to head against these beasts of the battlefield, but when they drew cards only luck, intuition and intelligence would count. And in such regards an imp was a truly terrifying force.


    So Why... Why was he losing?


    A thin film of sweat had gathered upon his forehead his fingers shaking his card in hand, waiting for Tolk to make his move. The Troll stared intently at his own cards as if deciding which one of them would taste the best. Ein waited, As long as he kept his last card, as long as the game kept going there would always be the chance to win. And if he lost his sister would probably kick him out of the house for a few days ¨C again.


    Currently he had the smallest stack of books, so if he lost that would mean that Tolk (the troll currently sitting opposite him scratching a strange lump on the side of his neck) would win, by whatever miracle had blessed his pea sized brain. ¡°Rossan got any threes?¡± Tolk¡¯s slurred at last glaring at the orc, whose face was hidden behind his cards.


    ¡°Nah, go fish.¡± The orc grinned his eyes grazing over his cards once more. Tolk¡¯s entire head turned a hazy shade of red before a heavy fist slammed down upon the crate they were using as a makeshift table.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe ya, show me yer cards. We all know yer¡¯ a cheat.¡±


    ¡°Oh shut it you moron, that isn¡¯t how the game works.¡± The two began to yell their voices rising high over the walls of the little alleyway sitting outside of their favourite pub. Ein sighed bowing his head and waiting for the argument to die down. Part of him hoped Tolk would get angry and just call off the game, although the troll would probably just walk off with all their money anyway. But seeing as the troll currently held the best position in the game, it was unlikely, well for now.


    ¡°Agh, fine you go!¡± The troll yelled dropping onto the reed mat that acted as his seat shuffling his cards over each other as if he was consider what to do next, everyone knew he was clueless. The trio were sitting outside; Yalhara¡¯s bar, it was a seedy place, no mistake about that, but it was one of the finest the slums had to offer, mainly because there was a rather low chance of fights breaking out. Yalhara was a ghoul, and one thing ghouls are known for, even more so than other undead, was there temper, especially the part where they lose it and try to bite the person closest to them. The slums being mainly made up of Goblinoid races and a few Bestia no one wanted to start anything with an undead who had once fought on the front lines against the crusaders. As to the reason they selected such a place to have their game Tolk had claimed it was a good place to play cards, though the real reason was blatantly obvious. As soon as the man won he would use the money to drink himself into a stupor and pass out in the street where some pickpocket would likely come along and steal whatever pittance he had left. Of course if he lost he would do that anyway, the only difference it made was what kind of drunk he would be. Ein shook his head he needed to focus on the game, for whatever good it would do.


    ¡°Ok... Ein you got any sixes?¡± The orc questioned waving a card in his face.


    ¡°Uh, no... Go fish.¡± He gave his response as quickly as possible looking for a way to turn the game around.


    That was when he heard it, echoing through the streets, the sound of slapping...


    Ein paused, turning around on his seat to look back down the street. The sound was coming from an alleyway, it was the middle of the day, most decent people would wait until evening at least. He shook his head and began to turn around, but the sound was drawing closer. He raised an eyebrow as it last a shadowy figure burst from the alleyway skidding through the streets a cloud of dust thrown up in his wake.


    The imp began to rose, only making it up one knee before the figure had closed in further than he would like ¨C which was swiftly followed by a brief moment of clarity before the two bodies collided. Ein felt his bones shake as a man twice his size and just under his weight crashed headlong into him, the two of their bodies sprawling into the crate. A howl slipped from his lips as the sound of wood crunching beneath them rang out. That would bruise gods that was going to bruise badly. He could already feel it spreading as a slew of howling shouts rang from his lips incoherent and jumbled. ¡°What the hell!¡± Tolk yelled staring at the cards scattered about the floor upon their impact, searching frantically for the bag of coins they had each bet upon the game. ¡°No, the money; Rossan help me find the damn money.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just a couple coppers and some silver, pocket change nothing more.¡± The orc sighed pushing through the scraps of wood his face dull despite the man who had just come flying into their company. Things like that happened in the slums.


    ¡°You bastard...¡± Tolk dark blue eyes flaring up as a stout head spun around to glare at the man slowly struggling to his feet. A dark air flooded through the alley Tolk reaching out to grab the man, the vein upon his forehead throbbing violently ¡°You¡¯ll pay fer that. How much you got on you!¡± He threw the man against the wall. Ein rose slowly, tears rimming his eyes as he glared at the man now lying in the corner. The man was skinny, unnaturally so. He must have been a wraith there was no other reason someone would be so thin, but there was something off about his eyes there was a strange light there.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he has money.¡± Rossan muttered recovering a few coins from the floor, the rest still missing somewhere. ¡°He¡¯s wearing rags, and even wraiths shouldn¡¯t be that thin. Probably doesn¡¯t even have a home. He¡¯s worse off than us and that¡¯s something.¡±


    ¡°You including yourself in that ¡®us¡¯ there merchant boy.¡± Tolk growled back. The two locked eyes before a brief cough erupted from the undead.


    All three turned in an instant their eyes locking on a young man as a spout of blood leapt from his lips black as night and oily. They withdrew quickly, whatever that stuff was it wasn¡¯t hygienic. Even Tolk who had had his finger up his nose for the better portion of the game knew that. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s worth it.¡± Ein muttered withdrawing quickly. If he told his sister that he¡¯d been mugged, and she believed him, he may only get kicked out for a day or two. But before Tolk or Rossan could reply, their came another set of footsteps from the same alley.


    ¡°Get back! It... It aint safe.¡± The figure skidded to a halt to examine the scene. The figure was shrouded in a grey cloak and carrying a club only a thick beard visible beneath the cloak.


    The man¡¯s eyes quickly surveyed the scene before landing on the wraith lying unconscious on the floor his breathing heavy. ¡°You did this?¡± The voice was filled with hostility, those dark eyes pinning the trio down as the club was raised.


    And then Tolk made his move.


    ¡°Yeah we did, an¡¯ you¡¯ll get the same unless you hand over what ya¡¯ got.¡± Tolk yelled stepping forward a slight tremor running through the earth a small dust cloud thrown up. The man did not react. ¡°You see me an¡¯ them we¡¯re...¡± Tolk began his tone stronger believing his bluff had taken hold before the wooden club found itself planted in his crotch. A low wheeze rang through the air, before the bludgeon swung around striking his skull. Even for a troll that had to hurt, His crotch not his head ¨C the gods knew he was too thick the feel anything up there. Rossan cursed realising that Tolk had turned the situation into a full blown fight and draw his short-sword from about his hip. Ein mimicked the action reaching for a small carving knife in his pocket before he had the chance to remove it from his wooden sheath Rossan¡¯s blade flew through the air sailing high overhead his hand clutched tightly to his chest a pained expression on his face. And once more the sound of footsteps rang through the street.


    ¡°Run!¡± Rossan yelled grabbing Tolk¡¯s arm and dragging the troll away, the duo hobbling away, Ein tripping over himself to follow after.


    They moved as fast as possible slipping behind a building, and waiting to make sure that there were no sounds of pursuit. ¡°What the hell!¡± Rossan cursed staring down at his hands ¡°The bones must be broken. Damn, damn it!¡± He hissed venom swelling his voice. Of course it was nothing to the black expression festering on Tolk¡¯s face, his teeth were grit and knuckles white, eyes a burning pool of blue flame. Ein shivered, it would not be good if the two sides ever met again. He supposed he was lucky coming out unscathed.


    They were sat behind a warehouse, the windows broken, and from beyond their little alcove the voices carried, that of the cloaked man and a young woman. ¡°Durre, tell me what¡¯s going on.¡± Her voice was weaved with exhaustion, heavy pants filling the air. Ein crept forwards to get a proper look peering about the corner of the warehouse.


    ¡°To put it simply we¡¯re protecting this kid. He came in from the desert. Heaven knows how far he walked just to get here.¡± The Dwarf muttered throwing back his hood a sorry expression making an appearance on a gruff face as he looked up towards the elf girl.


    ¡°Then why was he running?¡± The girl questioned slipping what appeared to be a dagger back to a sheath by her hip, all but the handle hidden in her dress.


    ¡°That¡¯s simple.¡± The voice was clear cut and flowing, cold as ice, and calm as a winter lake. His hair was silver and as for his uniform; royal blue¨C his eyes the pale blue of a cloudy sky ¨C and going by the braided rope and gilded tag about his neck his was a high ranking military official. The man knelt beside the unconscious wraith a grim expression asserting itself.


    ¡°Luscious?¡± The young woman whispered stepping forwards. The man turned to meet her gaze a weary smile on his face.


    ¡°He¡¯s a human.¡±