General Quintus regarded the lizardman before his chair with disdain. Once, they had been neighbors, and this reptile had always taken pains to show off how much better his yard was, how much more energetic and better groomed his dogs were than Durgen's. He'd tried to curry Quintus's favor by gifting him one of his dogs, and the animal had bitten the elf when he tried to pet it.
Quintus had howled and called for the servants of The Chained One to beat the lizardman, and beat him they had. The specters had held themselves back, though; civilized folk only, lest there be death. Now the lizardman knelt before him, battered, bloodied, one eye swollen to vulgarity.
"Charles, are you crying," Quintus asked with mock concern, one leg dangling lazily over a chair arm. On each side of Charles, the lizardman, stood an animated armor suit, blades drawn at the ready. "Oh, boo hoo, boo hoo, look at poor little Charlie. Look at my hand, infidel," he screeched, holding out his bandaged appendage.
"I'm so sorry, Durgen," Charlie sobbed. The suit on the left raised the butt of its sword and clobbered him on the side of the head, knocking him into the floor.
"My name is Quintus," the former Durgen said evenly, sitting back once more, but now upright. "The suits have orders to correct anyone using my old name, sorry about that, Charlie. Get up." The lizardman did, head hung down. "Now, do you wish to make amends?"
"I do, general! Yes, yes, I do!"
"Then hear me well. You will gather all of your dogs at the southern road, and there, you will release them into the wild." Charlie groaned. "It is best this way. The alternative is that I kill you for your insolance. What will it be?"
Twenty minutes later, eight prize-winning dogs ran free from Parik, and left this part of our tale.
In Guang-Do, a densely populated township in Rinchak's western borderlands, the average citizen cared little for the parliament and the soul-crushing life of poverty its laws had enforced upon them. Only the local brownshirts were loyal, and few counted them.
The nearby Agio Forest allowed most commoners to make a living, though. One of these folk, a minotaur named Kelip, was tracking a warthog that he could carve up for meat and hide sales or trade. He would keep the tusks to carve down into dice, figurines, or some other trinket. As a bonecrafter, he had options.
He was on the beast's trail when he noticed the ghostwood trees twenty yards or so away. Curious, he cautiously approached, spear held at the ready. When he found a robed, hooded figure with chains sticking out of his back kneeling at the base of one, he crouched in a battle-ready stance.
"Fear me not, minotaur," came the dry, crackling voice from under the hood. "I sensed your approach. Had I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Feel my power, know that I am not lying." Kelip stretched out his senses, felt the vastness of this man-thing's dark power, and recoiled. "A trifle unsettling, isn't it?"
"What do you want, demon," the minotaur rasped.
"You. You and anyone like you with power and the will to serve me in a new life, a better life. But none of those brownshirts. Today, they die." Kelip stood upright, a savage smile on his face.
"Do you promise?"
"I do. Tell your friends to lay hand upon these ghostwoods. All others shall perish." Two hours later, hundreds of barbed, edged chains tore through the town, reducing it to bloody paste, rubble, and guts. Guang-Do now existed only on maps.
Before the sun had risen that morning, Kathy sat at the window of her rented room, staring out into the dark streets. Byron lay snoring on the bed, peaceful as could be. Dinner the previous evening had been a strange affair. Byron had tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, and he'd been as sweet as could be. But halfway through the meal, Kathy had managed to get him to open up about what happened in the Red Room.
He admitted that the cell had reminded him of his prison in the world in which he'd been Awakened. Feeling stiffled, with memories leaking into his conscious mind from his time of torture, he snapped, the need to escape taking control of him. He apologized repeatedly for his behavior, and she assured him it was fine, that he had nothing to be sorry for.
After returning to the Phoenix Inn, they had visited some more, Kathy explaining what had happened with Daggeuro afterward. She broke down crying at the memory of it, and he held her, stroking her hair, assuring her that he appreciated her speaking on his behalf. They made love shortly after, curling against one another afterwards and slipping into slumber.
Yet her slumber broke at shortly after four in the morning. She found her thoughts drifting to The Chained One and his undead minions. Two battles now she'd fought against the apparition's forces, all undead. She didn't enjoy combat, but found herself feeling more alive in those moments than any other. She had witnessed Byron's flair for battle as well, and she felt genuinely that he belonged on the battlefield more than most. Kathy suspected that his Awakened power would be key to ultimately defeating and/or destroying The Chained One, for as King Ovin had pointed out, his was the only one The Chained One wouldn't be able to use.
Kathy got dressed and shook Byron gently until he stirred. He squinted blearily up at her. "Wha' time is," he asked in his sleepy stupor.
"Little after four. I couldn't stay asleep. Get up. We're going to go have some of the best coffee and pastries in the city." Byron got up and dressed, going through the motions like one of the zombies they'd slain to the north. He still hadn't fully opened his eyes when he put on his glasses and followed Kathy outside.
She led Byron down the road seven or eight minutes, until they entered the cozy little café she, Daggeuro and Baron Dimanche had made into their regular meeting place during the campaign against Luga. The gnome owner/operator had since passed the place to his brother Shamus to run, having decided to retire. Shamus broke no mould as gnomes went: stout, gray-haired and bearded, pudgy, and friendly. He raised a hand from behind the counter at his first two customers of the day.
"Don't normally see folks in this early what isn't night Watchmen," Shamus said in a light singsong voice. "What can I get you two?"
"Two bold bean coffees, vanilla pumps and plenty of sugar, please," Kathy said, handing over four bits. Shamus got their drinks quickly into two oversized mugs and handed them over with a gracious bow of his head. "Come on." She led him down into a recessed section of the seating space, in which sat two armchairs, a comfortable couch, and a solid oak coffee table. She and Byron sat together on the couch, Byron snatching a fresh copy of The Capital Report sitting on the table. "Here, give me the funnies," Kathy said brightly.
Byron pulled out a four-page insert flooded with comic strips. "Jesus, these folks love their comics, huh?"
"Every aspiring artist in the kingdom sends their work into this paper. The strips are kind of like ongoing portfolios and auditions."
"Too bad they're just still shots. This Plane could use a few Harry Potter touches."
"You'll live," she said. Byron was, as she had suspected, starting with the 'Politics' section of the paper, keying in right off on the first story. They sipped coffee and enjoyed their paper in comfortable quiet with one another. Comfortable silence is when you know you're with someone special, Kathy thought. Mom, you got that one right. She realized with a pang that she missed her mother, her stepfather, and even Tigger, though he was currently camped out back at the single rented room she was now sharing with Byron.
Tigger hadn't wanted to be left back Mortal-side, but didn't want to be underfoot at Selena's too much, either. Kathy had given him leave to wander back and forth from the hotel to Selena's as he saw fit. He was grateful for the freedom to roam.
Kathy giggled at one of the silly comics and set her section aside, leaning her head on Byron's shoulder. He gave her a peck on the head and resumed reading about the current negotiations between members of the High Council and distant Florishen's own counterparts, men and women known as senators. Florishen, like Engelesh, was a democratic republic.
Kathy let her eyes slip shut, and she passed out for a short while. Byron, sensing how tired she was despite having woken up in their room, let her rest for the time being, enjoying his paper and her closeness. All seemed well, for now.
Daggeuro shot upright in bed, his protective instincts tripping every nerve in his body. Selena just groaned next to him, not even budging as he got out of the bed and grabbed Bane from where it leaned against the wall. Normally he would have selected Boon; intruders typically warranted a sacred power response. Yet his hand had gone past it, selecting Bane of its own accord.
Slowly he moved to the bedroom door, willing shadows forth from the blade as he drew it from its sheath. Dressed only in long pajama pants of gray, he wanted every advantage he could get. Already he had speed on his side; fully armored he was one of the fastest swordsmen in all of Ether, and without armor, he had none of that extra weight slowing him down. But there were plenty of weapons quicker than longswords in the realms, and thus, quicker attackers than he. He wanted to chance nothing.
Crossing his legs one over the other, then opposing the order, he siddled down the hall toward the living room, where a lantern was lit, casting its warm glow outward. Unphased by this, he drew up next to the entryway into the living room, whipping around it with Bane held high, poised to strike.
One of Ovin's sages, a gray-furred old fellin named Ocstar, sat in his plush red armchair, an ancient, weathered tome open in his lap. He wore large ocular spectacles, gold-rimmed, a peasant's battered beige robes, and fuzzy white slippers on his feet. He peered up at the stunned kennin and said, "Good heavens, man, close your mouth. You'l draw flies." Daggeuro brought down Bane, sheathing it, and stood upright before the elderly cat-faerie.
"Sage Ocstar," Daggeuro began. "What are you doing in our home? Know you what hour this is?"
"Four-thirty in the morning," the sage replied evenly, calmly closing the tome. "I know, a devillish time for any man, woman or child to be up traipsing about. I had a hell of a time undoing the wards your bride-to-be set on the front door. What can I say, though? I'm getting old, heh heh." He chuckled in earnest a moment, then waved a hand, levitating the living room's other armchair silently and bringing it to rest right behind the kennin High Knight. "Sit, please."
"Thank you," said Daggeuro. "Tell me, you're one of the oracles among the sages, are you not?"
"I am indeed," said Ocstar, folding his hands over his book. "And yes, I have come to you regarding a vision. Sir Daggeuro, you are aware, I presume, that the future is constantly in flux."
"You assume correctly."
"Good. Then you are also aware that some visions of the future are more likely to hold true than others. I am here to help you prevent one of those likely futures, one that is maddeningly close to coming to pass." The sage leaned forward, his expression suddenly grave. "The Chained One will arrive in the Engelesh township of Craeton's Bay in three days' time. There he will gather to him several dozen followers, among them a dwarf named Goblatt Burnstrom. He must not join The Chained One's army."
Daggeuro thought back on the names of every dwarf he'd heard of of known repute, but Burnstrom was not among them. "I know no such dwarf. What manner of man is he?"
"Just a newsman, an editor in chief and partial owner of several papers out east. He has no power to fear by himself. But he is one of Byron Torg's longest-standing friends and allies in Ether," said Ocstar, raising one finger pointedly. "That is the real danger, Sir Daggeuro. If Byron discovers this, he will be fraught with wrath, and will charge into battle without caution. If he does so, he will die badly, and that must not happen. He and Kathy Potts are essential to slaying Cassius Melchar when the time comes."
"I see," said Daggeuro. He leaned forward and rasped, "I worry about Byron. He's clearly not stable. Are you sure he's needed to defeat The Chained One?"
"The answer to Cassius's darkness is not light, Sir Daggeuro, as most would assume. The answer is the kind of madness that ever wraps itself in the union of true love." Ocstar gingerly rose from the armchair, tucking the tome into his robes. "Remember, you must prevent Goblatt Burnstrom's joining Cassius. How you do so matters not; simply assure that it doesn't happen." Ocstar shuffled to the front door and left Selena and Daggeuro's house, leaving the kennin with a dozen questions, all with no clear answer.
Felist of the Tupo Clan goblins heard the screams as dawn broke, westward, where their pickets had been set. The Huriks were holed up in Echer's Wood, entrenched heavily and with no sign of giving ground. Yet as Felist came out of his tent, he saw dozens of Hurik Clan goblins fleeing something in the woods, their weapons abandoned. Seeing this, he knew there was great peril coming; Huriks never dropped their weapons.
The first Huriks were almost upon his picket line guards, who were bracing for battle. He quickly called up wind magic and sent word on the air, "Let them pass, make ready to evacuate!" He grabbed one of the first Huriks to reach his position, snagging the man by the belt. "What are you running from," he shouted. The Hurik just shook his head and tore free, running away.
Felist looked west and saw a wave of lizardmen, elves and minotaurs charging, weapons and magic raised, blasts of power taking down goblins at random. Foremost among them was a giant minotaur in hunter's garb, chains dangling from his wrists. He used these as whips, but they flashed green as they struck targetted goblins, cutting them apart without effort.
The Chained One's first outbound assault claimed seventy goblin lives before the sun even finished rising.
Daggeuro banged on the bars of Senta's cell, rousing the gotrin assassin from slumber. He looked around hurriedly, relaxing when he saw the human madman wasn't in the kennin's company. He approached the bars. "What brings you, Sir Daggeuro?"
"Senta, you have failed in your mission to assassinate Leroy Ferter," the armored High Knight said. "Tell me, what fate awaits you upon your return to your master?"
"I will likely be killed if I return to Rinchak," said Senta, his tone lacking inflection. "That is simply the way of things."
"So, you cannot return if you wish to live."
"That is correct."
"So you're a man without a country," said Daggeuro, folding his arms over his chest. "That can be changed, however. After all, a man with your skill set always has uses. Are you interested?" Senta turned away from the bars, pacing for a few minutes before he finally came back to the bars.
"Who would you have me kill?"
"Not kill, Senta. There's nobody for you to kill. But, there is someone I want brought here, from Engelesh. A dwarf by the name of Goblatt Burnstrom."
Kathy was paying for her and Byron's tickets when the kennin High Knight tapped her on the shoulder. She bit her lower lip and breathed deep, still upset with him. "Sir Daggeuro," she said, tone dripping with ice. Byron came slowly back to her from the front lobby restroom of the theater house, passing by a poster proclaiming the production they were about to watch one of the funniest of the year. He put his arm around her waist, unable to meet Daggeuro's eyes, looking instead down at his armor breastplate.
Daggeuro spread his arms wide and knelt down, lowering his head until his snout pointed at the black carpet of the lobby floor. "I have been unkind and unworthy as a friend," he proclaimed aloud. Kathy felt tears threatening behind her eyes. There was a wrongness in Daggeuro prostrating himself like this. "I beg thee both forgive me."
"People are starting to stare," Byron said quietly. "Come on, get up."
"I will not," Daggeuro replied. "I beseech thee give me word of honest forgiveness for my egregious treatment with you. I have dishonored myself by casting unfair judgment."
"Oh, gods, I forgive you," Kathy said, the tears now running down her cheeks.
"Me too," said Byron, himself now feeling he'd just witnessed something unnatural. He and Kathy each got up under one armpit and heaved Daggeuro back to a standing position. He grasped them both to him, hugging the humans fiercely before stepping back. "Geez, you faerie take these things really serious."
"Those of us with a sense of honor do, yes," said Daggeuro. "I bid you both enjoy the play. After, grab your gear and meet me at the barracks."
"Where are we going," asked Byron.
"One of the sages, an oracle, has forseen where The Chained One will be in three days' time. When he gets there, we will be there to meet his evil. My friends, we are going to battle!"