Earthsword, vol. 1: Beta Test

Day 1

Janus

12:01 AM

Janus awoke with a start. Sweat poured off his body. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Had it all been a dream? He leaned forward in the chair he had been sleeping in, accidentally knocking into the side table as he went. A single glass toppled over and shattered on the floor. Janus looked around, his eyes still trying to focus.

“Huh? What’s going on?” Anneliese pulled herself up in bed and fumbled for the lamp, turning it on. She pulled the sheets up around herself and looked over in Janus’s direction. “You all right?”

“Y-yeah, just a bad dream. Everything’s fine. I just bumped the water.”

“Need me to get you another one?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Sorry for waking you.”

“Mmmm…” She leaned her head back down on the pillow, her hand absently feeling again for the switch on the lamp. She found it, and the room returned to darkness. By the moonlight filtering in through the window, her skin took on an ivory hue.

He gingerly stood and cringed as a shard of glass began to poke its way into his toe. He grabbed as much of it as he could and pulled the piece free – no blood. Again, carefully this time, he placed the tip of his foot down and carefully skirted the shattered shards. He made his way across the room and fetched the dustpan.

He knelt and began to clean up the mess. He began to think how clumsy he felt today. Was he still feeling the effects of the festival last night? His memory had just begun to clear up. He looked back to the bed. Anneliese was asleep again, her blonde hair splayed across the pillow. She stirred in her sleep, muttered something, and fell back into the rhythmic breathing of those in a dream.

Janus shook his head again. His hair fell loose of his typical braids; and as he looked at himself in the dim surface of the spilled water, he saw the slight hints... of maybe fear, maybe confusion marking his otherwise thin, some would say handsome, face. He gently touched the tips of his pointed ears. How he envied the humans their rugged handsomeness.

It had been many a day Janus had stared into the mirror and wished away his fine blonde hair, his slight frame, or his less-than-muscular physique. He brushed his face, commenting sourly on the lack of what the humans considered a “manly jawline,” covered with the sparse growth that even dwarf women could seem to produce.

Janus scowled and finished cleaning up the mess. He deposited the shards of glass in the trash and dropped the rag near the wash basin. He paused momentarily, groggy and unbalanced. Had the liquor really been that strong the previous night?

Janus stepped back to his nearby chair, pulled it a little closer to the bed, and fell asleep. The nightmares didn’t come back, and he promptly forgot what had awoken him in the first place. He didn’t awaken until the early morning light broke through his window.

Any Alonian elf worth his salt didn’t need to use alarm-clocks, or alarm-bots, or any mechanized alarm-sounding devices. They considered that uncouth and a waste of the electricity nature sacrificed to give them. Certainly, the nearby dams could easily support the extra energy draw, but the slowing of the river to power their lives should not be taken lightly. It was a relatively recent move to even consider the usage of powered shuttles rather than dragons. And to give in to the humans’ push to mechanize all transportation and to convert all weaponry to an energy-based design powered by fuel-cells or batteries, as the Caphic elves did, was unthinkable.

Of course, armor and some weaponry had assimilated some advancements. Janus’s own bow was a marvel of such design. A dwarven friend – perhaps a prince, if dwarves had such a station – named Namore had built it for him. It was a compound bow of sorts, only the bow had been replaced with a small electromotor that fired bolts through magnetic action rather than by the use of a bowstring. Janus had spent hours pondering the difference between that waste of energy and the small trickle to power a gnomish alarm-bot, but he had been rebuffed at any attempt to get an answer, so he had just allowed this moment of hypocrisy and allowed himself the luxury of the bow.

Obviously, need played a major role. And, as Janus now proved, there was no need for a small machine to shout him into wakefulness. Even though he had slept most of the night embraced in the arms of a rather stiff chair rather than in the admittedly softer folds of the bed at which the elf maid now stood, he awoke promptly at six. His eyes popped awake as light began to make its way into his room, and he stretched languidly.

Anneliese smiled from across the room as she pulled on her ceremonial armor. It was white with gold trim. Her skirt came a little below her knee on the right side, then ran a deliberate, staggered line across her lap, terminating about half-way up her left thigh. She produced two gold bangles, which she attached to her upper arm. She then fastened her equally-ornate belt and slid into her gold-laced sandals.

“Are you ready, Janus?” she asked, pulling her hair back into a high ponytail that ran down her back in a long fountain. It reminded Janus of the Bridal Veil Falls he had seen so long ago – a long stream of water, falling for hundreds of feet, that didn’t seem to spread at all as it fell.

He nodded. “Never changed last night. Slept in all my gear. Compared to yours, my lady, my armor and weaponry is hardly appropriate for the ceremonies today.”

“Ah, but you’re my brave guardsman. How ever will you protect me should something happen?”

He smiled. “I have ways, my lady. Let there be no worries on your part. Besides, my position is simply ceremonial. The soldiers of my father will be more heavily armed than I could ever be.”

“Are you always so serious, my dear Janus? My, my. You take everything with such formality. Please, be at ease. I mean no offense.” She crossed the room and placed a delicate hand on his. Her touch was cool. A look of concern crossed her face. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, it’s fine. I just… had a bad dream last night. I didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m sorry. Was it me?”

Janus shook his head. “No, my lady. Truth be told, I don’t even remember what it was or what caused it. I blame it on the rose-hip wine.”

“You found rose-hip wine? There was none of that in my area of the feast last night.”

Janus glanced at her in surprise. “Truly? I could have sworn.” He thought about the previous night. He had thought it was a hangover from liquor, but now that he thought more carefully, he couldn’t actually remember any alcohol at the banquet. In fact, it would have been quite unseemly on many accounts for alcohol to be served at such a banquet. Had he been drugged then?

“Are you sure you’re up for this, Janus? You are the prince, after all. I’m sure your father could arrange another escort, one not so tied down with affairs of state. I truly do not wish to be a bother. I am even quite capable of finding my own way around.”

Janus shook his head. “No, I’m fine. My memory’s just shot right now. He looked at the small chronometer that rested near the sink. It was a small sundial contraption that had been tailored to run on small gears and sprockets. He wound it once a day before bed-time. It kept time as accurately as any electronic device. Janus had often joked that the Alonian elves were going into the future kicking and screaming. “Well, it’s time to leave, my lady.” He proffered her his arm. She took it, sending a slight thrill through him as they exited the house and ventured out on the cobblestone streets of the village.

His vision took a moment to acclimate to the new environment. Already the sun, which had so shyly peeked its way into his room not thirty minutes earlier, was now glaring brazenly down on its powerless subjects. Janus made an effort to cover his eyes, but accidently elicited a sarcastic response from a neighbor.

“No need to salute, good sir. You out-rank me.”

“Shut up, Corinthius, I wasn’t saluting. It’s this sun. It’s so bright today.”

“I’m joking, Janus. Don’t take everything so literally. Seriously, someone needs to teach you the meaning of irony already.”

“I know the meaning of irony, it’s a grammatical device use…”

“Whatever. It’s good to see you. And it’s a pleasure to see you, madam Anne.”

Anneliese smiled and gave a slight bow. “You as well, Corinth. I hope you are well.”

“When you’re in town, even the sun is jealous.” It was a common elven expression, implying the beauty or glory of the person outshone even the sun, but Anneliese smiled in turn.

“You flatter me.”

“Yes,” replied Janus. “He does that.” He gave Corinthius a glare, and the younger elf scampered off. He had clearly flirted with the wrong woman, and he knew it.

Apparently oblivious to the posturing of her guard, Anneliese continued, talking animatedly about the expert gardening that the ruler of Alonian tribes had perfected. They nurtured the strongest, most beautiful trees into a seamless melding of architecture and horticulture. “It seems almost unreal what you do here.” She looked around, as if taking it all in for the first time.

“They’re wizards, that’s what I always say.”

“Do you have any wizards here?”

“Not that I know of, lady,” Janus replied as they stood before the town center. They toured the various shops and plazas, finally coming toward the path that led toward the long house. A large gazebo sat in front of the trail, its sides each a tree whose branches stretched to the ceiling, forming a lattice work of expert craftsmanship along the walls. Its roof – a delicate weaving of living branches that changed hue with the seasons – blocked out sun and rain as effectively as any shingle. The stems of the trees each met in a point exactly over the center of the gazebo and wove around each other like so many vines as they continued to grow.

“How they ever did that, I’ll never guess,” muttered Janus, gazing in awe at the beautiful structure. It was broad enough to contain a sizeable gathering, and tall enough to comfortably fit two of the tallest elves standing shoulder upon shoulder. It truly was the gem of the village. Several crystals had been fitted in the gaps of the branches, and light traveling through at all hours of the day, and even the moonlit nights, filtered through them and lit the gazebo better than any gas or electric lights could hope to attain.

Most elven light in Alon was achieved that way, and what lamps there were to be found would only exist in the depths of the houses or in a few essential street lights. These were turned on for special occasions only. In fact, last nights’ incident of dropping a glass of water wouldn’t normally have called for light, but of course, Anneliese wouldn’t have known that.

Janus gave a gentle tug on her arm. “We must continue on, my lady.”

“So proper. I have a name, you know.”

“I am aware.”

“It’s Anneliese. My friends even call me Anne.”

“I know, ma’am.”

“You’re hopeless, my guard.”

Janus sank a little inside. She was upset, and he knew it. What had he done? He was only trying to show her the utmost respect.

Then, like the wind when it blows through the trees, her mood was quickly gone. She smiled up at him and winked. He chuckled inside. She had melted his heart with a single wink. All the weird warmth he had felt this morning, seeing her slumbering form in his sheets, returned. He was sure he was blushing and looked away with an embarrassed cough. “The long house is up here.”

They entered a path surrounded by a standing grove of trees which had been cultivated into a sort of living, blooming archway. Light filtered down, unaided by wires or crystals – chaste, unadulterated, natural light, with the unfettered beauty found only in unsoiled nature. His feelings for his charge paled before the awe he felt walking through this place. Though he had wandered this path countless times, they were all but figments of his memory now. Now, it was real and magnificent. He chuckled inwardly, wondering if he’d ever tire of this view, wondering why he even bothered returning to his humble hovel in the eveninsg. He wondered why he didn’t set up a tent under the stars, taking in their unfathomable beauty before he fell asleep.

“Janus? Janus? Are you all right?”

He looked over. Anneliese’s face was worried. “You froze. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he replied, with a smile and a nod. “Just taking in the beauty.”

“You should see the city of Caphon,” she responded with a smirk. “It puts this to shame.”

“How could any mortal-built structure match this?” he replied with a sense of incredulity hardly tempered by politeness.

She smiled. “You never fail to disappoint. Maybe someday, my guard, I will show you.” With that, she gave him another charming wink and pulled him forward. “Come on, you’re trying to show me the long house, are you not?”

“Y-yes, of course.” He pulled his eyes away from the scenery around him and sought to keep pace with her.

Anneliese

7:07 AM

Anneliese could feel the warmth of his hand against her arm. It was slightly painful as his hand pulled against the skin, but it was worth it. The sentimental prince who had been assigned to her as guard had been slowly showing her every point in the village before suddenly stopping under the arbor leading to the long house and just staring. He had stood there for almost a whole minute, face toward the sky. And he had had a dopey smile on his face as if he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his whole life! She had decided to put a stop to that.

After rousing him out of his stupor with a comment about the beauty of her city, she had promptly begun to pull him up the trail. Normally, she’d have let him lead; but since this seemed to be the only trail up the hill, she didn’t think she’d get lost. She released his hand and began to walk faster.

She heard him mutter something about waiting for him, but she was too busy wanting to explore. She had, of course, heard many tales about the elven tribes living around Alon, over which Janus’s father was the chief. She’d heard about the crystal clear waters and the rivers that meandered for hundreds of miles, from the dwarven villages in the mountains to the East to the human city of Rift at the entrance to the canyon to the West. She’d heard about the pure blue skies and plains, and forests, and prairies. She’d heard legends of the snow-capped peaks far off to the south, of the mountains appearing like daggers against the sky to the East, forming an impassable wall between the lands of the elves and the barbarians who lived in the great, evil “Beyond.” Rumor had it that some of the greatest dwarf smiths and craftsmen who had ever lived now lay buried in those hills, protecting the realm from whatever evil lived farther to the east.

What she had seen while flying to this location aboard the air shuttle had truly amazed her. A large canyon separated the lands surrounding the city of Caphon from Janus’s father’s holdings around Alon. A small city called Rift sat at the entrance to Alon by means of a long, old bridge called the Span. Maybe she could convince her guard to take her out there. It didn’t look that far. If it was too far, she was sure she could “convince” him to borrow some dragons for the flight.

Janus finally caught up with her just before the final bend to the long house, assuming she remembered what he had told her earlier. As their pace slowed, she smiled at him, but he didn’t notice. He seemed calm, even pensive. She inwardly frowned at this and studied him. 

He was a handsome elf, with sharp features and a graceful disposition. His arms were well-muscled, showing he was no stranger to menial tasks. This impressed her. Most noblemen thought of the menial tasks of woodcutting and hunting and gardening as below them and basked in their royalty by making others do such tasks for them. She appreciated a man who could pull his own weight in a community.

His arms were also scarred in places, some of them fresh. He had obviously grown accustomed to such labor. She had brushed his hand earlier, when pulling him into a shop so she could examine the beautiful styles of the clothiers of the Alon. His hand was rough. Rough like everything in Alon. As they toured the shop, she fell in love with the place. Even their clothing was rustic and simple; yet, as with everything else, it appealed to her greatly. Surely, her clothing was worth more than any ten dresses in the shop combined, but the unrestricted hems and practical shoes, as well as the lack of any arm-decorations or hair-pieces had made her willing to strip off her expensive jewelry right there and trade it for any garment in the store.

But decorum insisted otherwise. It would not do for an ambassador from the city to shed her ornaments. Caphon was, after all, a city of wealth. And the elves there would frown upon their princess stooping to wear what they considered to be the “adornments of the peasantry.” She had often thought that these city folk were pompous ignorants, but she had never said that to them. No, decency declared that she was to smile and be polite and decent. She was never to show too little leg or too much (but they never bothered delineating what that meant or where that line was). She was never to smile too much or too little. Her hair was to be coifed in just such a way, with ever so slight the strands hanging down, representing this or that about her station. Her sandals were to be fastened up in just such an arrangement, as became a single girl of her social standing, and the strap across her heel was to be so carefully adorned with just enough – but not too little – jewels and gold.

She had made the comment about loving the beauty of her city to spur a disagreement in Janus. In truth, she actually hated it there. Janus had risen to the occasion, with disappointing self-control. She had spent too much of her life around people with stifling amounts of control – for themselves and others. Here, she felt free.

Grunt

12:30 AM

“Hey, you awake? Grunt, get up, you stupid orc!”

He felt a sharp pain in his head. “Go ‘way. I’ll tear off your head,” he growled. He curled up, pulled his shield closer to himself, and laid down on it like it was the softest pillow in the world.

“Get up, you lazy, green pile of --!”

Grunt thrust out a single arm and caught his attacker in the foot before she could kick him again. He, almost casually, without opening his eyes, pushed her back, and listened happily as the crunching of branches told him she had landed in the forest several feet away.

“Fine! You don’t want the first kill, I’ll do it.”

He smiled and curled up against the shield. He’d been awake the whole time. He’d smelled the stag for the last ten minutes. She was freaking out over nothing. They were downwind of it. It didn’t even know they were there. But she was a human, after all, and he couldn’t expect her to understand senses she just didn’t possess.

He felt sorry for her.

No, he felt sorry for himself. Since midnight, he’d been unable to sleep. What did she hope to accomplish, bringing him along on this hunting trip. She was the archer, after all. He had a shield and a broadsword. What could she possibly expect he’d bring to this struggle?

Frustrated, he finally stood and stretched. He suddenly doubled over as a small, angry … something … bowled into him. He nearly lost his balance. 

“I’ll tear you limb from limb! I’ll rip off your stupid orc ears and feed them to your mother! I’ll use your guts for garters! I’ll --!” Before she could continue with what would undoubtedly become a profanity-laced tirade, Grunt grabbed her by the hand, plucked her off her feet, and clamped his free hand around her mouth.

“If the stag you’re hunting didn’t know we were here before, he undoubtedly does now,” he stated calmly. He gave her face a slight, playful squeeze, delighting in the anger that flared in her eyes. “Now, if you want my help, I’ll give it.” She kicked out at him but missed. He shook her. “Are you done?”

Baleful eyes met him, and he could feel her spitting into his hand. Maybe if he were disturbed by such things, he would have released her, but others had done worse. He smiled. She glared even harder. “Are you done?”

He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his hand and dropped her. She had bit him! The moment she hit the ground, she rapped him smartly in the shins with her boot and jumped backwards, landing an impressive backflip and rising dramatically from her crouched position.

“You always did have a flair for the dramatic. And for playing dirty,” muttered Grunt, wiping his hand on his pants.

“And you always had a flair for stupid.”

Grunt laughed. “Up all night to think of that one, eh?”

“Shut up!”

“Anyway,” he replied, wiping his hand off one more time for good measure. “What can I possibly help you with?”

“There’s a stag down there,” she whispered, pointing down the hill, in the direction Grunt had sensed the deer earlier.

Grunt sniffed the air. “Yep, and it’s been there for most of the hour. What’s your point?”

She stuttered. “W-well, then we should go get it!”

Grunt shrugged. “Be my guest, great hunter. You have the bow.”

“You’re not going to help?”

“I have a sword and a shield. And big, stupid armor. Or at least that’s what you keep saying about it. What can I possibly do to aid you?”

“Well…” she muttered. “You could…”

He waited expectantly.

“You could carry it back when I kill it. Of course I don’t need your help!”

Grunt laughed again, a deep, rich, hearty laugh, one that would make a drunken dwarf ashamed. “And that’s the only reason you brought me along, so I could carry your stupid deer?”

“Of course! It’s not like I enjoy having you around. You smell like a dung heap, and you snore like a walrus.”

“What would you know of dung heaps, little pup? As for walruses, you only wish you’d be able to see them.”

“Shut up.”

Grunt smiled down at the impetuous human. She was headstrong and brash, just like her father before her.

“Well, will you help?”

Grunt gave a longsuffering sigh. “What can I do?”

“You can help me stalk the deer.”

“With all this?” He pointed to his gear.

“Leave it here.”

“That’s a good joke, little one. Like I’m going to leave my armor here, unprotected, in the middle of the woods. That’s a sure-fire way to get it stolen.”

“You were the one who decided to bring it.”

He folded his green arms across his broad chest. “You were the one who shouted, ‘This is an emergency! We need to go. Now!’ before rushing out of my shop. If you had told me about this stupid bet of yours and that you were just going hunting, I would have left my weaponry at home. For all I knew, we were under attack!”

She quailed a little bit. “Well…” She had nothing more to say. She looked up at him again and gave him a look that, for just a moment, reminded him of her childish self. It was a somewhat innocent, longing smile. It was the same look his own children had given when they would say stupid childish promises like “I’ll never ask for anything again,” or “This is the last time, promise!”

“You look stupid like that,” he muttered, giving her a bored look. It achieved the desired result.

“Well, I learned it all from you! You’re the master of stupid!” With that, she turned and stomped off into the woods.

“Only because I get to tell you what to do,” he muttered after her, before setting his armor against a tree. Then he unwrapped his long, forest-green cloak and covered the armor with it. He looked at his shield. He surely wouldn’t need it, either. He lifted the cloak and slipped his shield and sword underneath it as well. Then, looking up, he sniffed the air once before following after his young companion.

Cici

12:50 AM

“Stupid orc!” Cici stomped out of the clearing. He had thrown her around the clearing! He had called her stupid! She was a lady. And nearly an adult. He was an orc and shouldn’t be disrespecting her like that! He should know better. 

She cursed everything she could think of. She cursed the trees for making it so dark, and the clouds for covering the full moon. She cursed the roots for tripping her, and the branches for slapping her face. She cursed her father for dying and leaving her with the big stupid, smelly, ignorant beast she had left back in the clearing. She cursed the elves for letting the orcs out of prison in the first place. She cursed her fellow humans for putting up with the orcs. She cursed the dwarves because they were short, and the gnomes for being annoying. When she had exhausted her list of things to curse, she slouched down in the bowl of a large tangle of roots and pouted.

“Stupid bet! Stupid…”

A twig snapped in the underbrush.

She looked up, wiping at her eyes. It must be Grunt. She had made him feel bad, and now he was coming to apologize. She waited patiently. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face, see his big, dumb, green face with those big, fat lips frowning at her and apologizing for saying those mean things. She stood slowly and pivoted, hearing the crunching twigs that surely announced the presence of the orc.

She looked around. Grunt was nowhere to be found.

Something was wrong.

A twig snapped again, this time even closer. The underbrush was thick in that direction, and she couldn’t make hide nor hair of anything.

Snap!

She turned around. The wind was blowing in her face now, whirling about. She caught a strange scent on the wind. It wasn’t orc. She didn’t know what it was, but it was a strong odor. It was the smell of death, of rot. She had smelled it once before. She couldn’t remember where, just that it reminded her of standing in a burnt-out village, feeling the heat of the flames and being overwhelmed with the sickening sweetness of roasted flesh. Days later, she had smelled the rot. Now, she was smelling both.

Snap!

Her stomach began to heave in fear and repulsion. She wanted to cry out, but her voice caught in her throat.

A shape loomed from the forest. She prayed and hoped against hope it was Grunt. She’d give anything to see his loving, warm smile, to feel those large, protecting arms around her now like she had had so many times before. She began to whimper and drew her dagger, holding it before her with both hands as if it were a large sword.

Her vision watered as she bit back tears. “Wh-who’s there? Grunt, this isn’t funny.”

The wind shifted again, and the smell was gone. The forest went quiet. The shape had vanished.

She stumbled for words. “Grunt? Is anyone there?”

The wind died down. It was all quiet. All was still.

Snap!

This one was right behind her. She spun on her heel. A face, sallow and empty, with blackened sockets for eyes and a stump for a nose, its teeth broken and rotted, appeared from the brush. A ghoul! Undead hands reached for her, slavering jaws chomped loudly in the air. The creature’s flesh was the grey of a drowning victim, his clothing that of a commoner. Freshly dead if the condition of the fabric meant anything. Yet how could it be? She hadn’t heard of any ghoul outbreaks for years.

As the creature staggered onto her, she found herself scrabbling desperately to keep the face away from hers. She thrust her palm against its throat to hold back its head as she desperately tried to keep a grip on the dagger with her other hand.

The creature’s hands clutched her by the straps of her shirt. It was so strong! She heard a roar from off in the forest. Strangely, it heartened her, and abject panic gave way to desperate hope.

Her hand flicked up and plunged the dagger into the side of the creature’s neck. The blade punctured the side of its throat, releasing a tepid stream of black ichor. The smell of rot filled her nostrils. She gagged.

The ghoul’s face drew closer, its jaws clamping and slavering. She punctured it twice, three times! But it wasn’t dying. She could hear the ominous chomping as the gaping maw closed again and again, each time coming nearer and nearer to her face. There was no breath, save for the occasional groans that escaped the shambling corpse, yet the stench came stronger and stronger.

She brought back the dagger and plunged it into the heart of the creature. It paused momentarily, allowing her to shove the shamble away, tearing a section of her tunic as it went.

“Help!” she shouted.

Where was Grunt?

The ghoul recovered and staggered forward again.

Cici plucked the dagger from the ghoul’s chest and planted a firm kick in the same spot. She felt a satisfying crunch as the chest caved a little from her blow. The corpse fell back and tottered backwards over a protruding root. He lay there, vainly attempting to rise. Cici took off running in the other direction, her heart racing.

Grunt

12:50 AM

As soon as he entered the forest, he realized something was wrong. There was something wrong in the air. The wind shifted directions. What is that smell? he thought. It was something he hadn’t sensed for a long time. It was like a dim memory from another time, another world.

Grunt sniffed the air. Admittedly, his sense of smell was far superior to that of humans, but this smell… What was it? He couldn’t remember.

He followed the scents in the air. The stag had bolted, and its scent was fading fast. Cici was off to his right. This smell was a little beyond her. No, it was coming from… The wind shifted again.

Grunt’s instincts told him to return to the clearing and fetch his arms, but he rejected the idea. He could smell nothing in this forest that could harm him. He was fine. He pushed forward. Cici’s smell was still coming off from his right. She was moving fast. He wondered just how upset he’d made her.

He sniffed the air. Still nothing. How could there have been a scent so strong just a moment ago, and now nothing? Then he detected it again. It was a faint, strange odor, one he was sure he’d encountered a long time ago. Suddenly, he remembered an inferno of flame, of strange creatures armed with strange weapons. He’d remembered bodies of humans lying in the ruins of their cities. Foreign invaders, savages from the east, had come. The humans had been caught off-guard, and their cities had been reduced to fire and death.

That was the smell now that met him. The wind was blowing straight in his face. He smelled Cici’s distinct scent, and now the sickly-sweet stench of burnt, rotting flesh. But there was another scent mixed with it. The smell of fear. It called to the baser, more primal soul that he’d tried to bury in the recesses of his mind. He let out a roar and charged toward the source.

Cici was in trouble. He shoved saplings aside and roared again, unheeding, clambering over stumps and roots, following the trail of the scent. It was as if the forest had suddenly come alive before him. His senses became keen. He saw colors he couldn’t have imagined. The smells came into sharp focus. He heard a strange ringing in his ears. Then everything went black.

He couldn’t see anything. Then his vision began to alternate between staggering color and  black nothing. Sharp pains tore at his mind. His ears rang as the loudest sound he’d ever heard exploded through the air. He dropped to his knees and shrieked in agony. His fist lashed out, and he felt a tree give way. He was showered by debris, but he didn’t care. His body bathed in gut-wrenching pain, he blacked out.

Cici

1 AM

A scream rang out in the night. Cici’s heart stopped. Grunt! she thought. She hesitated. That ghoul was still out there and would certainly be mobile soon. She couldn’t just leave Grunt out here. He sounded as if he were in trouble.

There was another cry, and a crack resounded through the forest. Cici could hear birds fleeing their nests in panic. She rushed toward the sound.

Another cry, and a thud. Then all was still.

“Grunt! Grunt!” Her voice came shrill and panicked. She rushed toward the source of the sound. She saw stirred up earth, a shattered tree. She saw a massive print of a hand, left in the dirt. “Grunt! Grunt! Where are you? Answer me!”

No drag marks. Nothing. It was as if he’d just vanished.

Anneliese

10:15 AM

The proceedings had gone above and beyond Anneliese’s expectations. The elders for the various Alon tribes that had attended the summit had agreed to take her words back to their respective villages and vote on the measures. For any normal ambassador, this would have seemed like a useless delay; but to Annaliese, it was perfect. The less time she spent around Caphon or any of the Caphic elves, the better. Now, at least, she’d have an excuse to get Janus to take her out into the countryside. Maybe he could even borrow some dragons for the task.

“My lady, are you ready to return home?” asked the young guard.

Anneliese nodded. “Yes. Let’s go.”

She bowed in respect to the remaining elven chieftains and took Janus’s arm. She was eager to get out of the stuffiness of the long house. She wanted to see the forests; and above all, she wanted to get out of her formal garb.

“One thing before we go home.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Let’s stop at the clothier's, I wish to purchase better garments.”

“But these suit you well, my lady,” Janus replied.

You would say that, she thought as a wry smile came to her face. She had caught him admiring her on more than one occasion. They had made eye contact more than once, and she had attempted to embarrass him each time with a subtle wink. Each time, he had blushed and averted his eyes. She was used to the attention of men, but she especially enjoyed the shyness of this one. “I wish to find more suitable traveling clothes,” she replied.

“Traveling clothes!” He choked on the words before adding, “My lady?”

“Yes,” she said, trying to sound as regal as possible. “Because you are taking me out into the woods. I wish to see the sights.”

“You do? Uh… I am? I- I don’t know if that’s allowed, ma’am.”

“I’m an ambassador. You’re my guard. The least you could do would be to take me for a walk.” She laughed and dragged him back down the trail, past the gazebo, and into one of the stores they had visited earlier. About thirty minutes later, at least by the reckoning of the chronometer hanging by the door, she had found the perfect blue-green tunic and pants set, and Janus had regained the use of his tongue.

“Hold these, will you?” Anne asked, handing her formal garb to the guard. She bent over and laced up leather boots. They came to her knees, and had several wonderful pockets and gaps for all kinds of accessories. She wanted to go next door and buy a dagger just to have something to stick in the boot. She looked at herself in the mirror. “Well, how do I look?”

Janus stuttered. “You look magnificent. The sun would be jea—”

She interrupted him. “Be original, Janus. I’ve heard that one today. Don’t you remember?”

He nodded, and she could tell he was desperately trying to think of something to say. She gave him a moment.

“The finest poetry cannot begin to describe your beauty.”

She smiled broadly. “Well done! It appears you do have some wit about you… when you try. I’m flattered!” With that, she plucked her clothes back from him, gave a polite bow to the shop owner, and took his arm. “Let’s go home!”

Cici

11:30 AM

Gone. 

Grunt. His armor. All of it gone. It was as if he'd never existed.

But Grunt would never have abandoned her. So what could have been strong enough to take Grunt and all his weaponry and make them vanish into thin air?

Confused and alone, Cici searched for hours. She searched until she began to lose her strength. She searched until her stomach and muscles groaned.

Then, with bet forgotten and ghoul long behind, she began the doleful trip home, dreading what she would say when she arrived. She’d rushed off into the forest and now Grunt was gone.

She crossed the field that led to her city of Rift, named such because of the large canyon that lay on the edge of the western side of the town. A large river cascaded down from deeper in Alon, appropriately called the Alonhill River, before tumbling in a sparkling jeweled fall to the canyon below. But today it was dark and somber. Nothing shimmered or glistened to Cici. Everything she had known and loved was gone once again, and the world seemed to mirror that fact.

She looked down again, checking her wrick. Its lighted dials told her the time was nearly noon. She groaned inwardly. She’s been searching for almost half a day and still hadn’t seen any sign of Grunt. She’d passed a few travelers on the road, but they hadn’t seen anything either. And a large green orc carrying a primitive weapon like a sword wouldn’t be something one could miss!

Where is he? she wondered yet again.

She passed through the gates into the old city, pausing to flash her wrick at the scanner. The wrick was a relatively new invention. It was a clock, scanner, map, and location tracker all-in-one. She had worried after the fight that she had broken it in the scuffle with the ghoul. That would’ve been a big problem. She didn’t know the way back to town from that place in the forest, even though she’d been through that forest many times through the years. But as soon as she’d calmed down, she’d checked her location and found that she was actually still quite close to the city.

“Anything to report?” asked an automated security system.

“Ghoul sighted in Sector 8 of the forest,” she responded. “And Grunt’s missing.”

The screen processed her information. “CC-10689, reporting ghoul activity in upper terrace forest. CC-10689, reporting missing person of orc persuasion, last seen in upper terrace forest. Anything else to report?”

Cici felt herself fighting back tears. “No. Nothing to report.”

“Then Admin-Assist program shutting down. Have a good day, CC-10689.”

“Yeah… good day…” Tears flowed freely now as the screen shut off. She felt like a fool, standing near the gate of the city, with vehicles and people moving in and out. She pressed an open palm against the side of a building to stabilize herself and wept. “Stupid orc… stupid, stupid orc…” Her legs gave way, and she fell to the sidewalk and sobbed.

Janus

1:05 PM

“How do you power your bathing house? I notice power isn’t something you Alonians embrace.”

Janus shook his head and shrugged, averting his eyes from the maiden standing on the other side of the room, drying her hair with the edge of the towel that was wrapped around her. She had just taken a mid-day respite, the name elf women give to the time between noon and one when all elven women freshen up. Most must wait their turns in the public bathing houses, but Janus owned his own private bathing house. And so Anneliese had spent the last half-hour “respiting.”

“We’re not against electricity. We just try not to waste it.”

Anneliese smiled. “So I’ve seen. You don’t even own a clock.”

“We do. Right there.” He pointed to the wind-up chronometer on the wall.

“It’s not a clock unless it tells you the time without all that foolish winding.”

“Just because it’s not fancy, like those dwarven wrists everyone’s buying in the city,” Janus began, his frustration rising.

“First, it’s called a ‘wrick,’ and second, we don’t waste energy, either. We just don’t see the need to conserve every drop like you Alonians do.”

Janus fell silent. He’d allowed her the use of his private bath chamber, and what would have taken a normal Alonian elf five to ten minutes had taken her nearly thirty. He dreaded the thought of the waste she was making of his ration of water. 

But more importantly, he had started to feel confused about his new companion. She’a toying with me, he thought. He couldn’t count the number of times throughout the official proceedings that she’d winked at him or made little waving motions with the tips of her fingers. She’d regularly brushed against him when they were walking and had often tugged him place to place as if she’d genuinely enjoyed his company. But she had to be a flirtatious city girl who was hoping to score the attention of an ignorant country boy, nobility or not.

“What’s wrong?”

He looked up. She had paused in her ministrations and truly looked concerned. Her gaze was innocent and halting, as if she’d done something dreadfully wrong.

She repeated. “What’s wrong? Did I say something? I was just kidding with you.”

“It’s nothing,” he lied. 

She put down the comb that she had begun using, her hair still damp and tangled, and came across the room to him. She knelt down at his chair and placed her slender, delicate hands on his.

“Janus, what did I do?” She truly looked concerned. He turned away and pulled his hands free. He plucked a book from the bedside table and opened it.

“I am fine. Go back to your business.” His eyes glanced up for a moment. His heart sank. She looked truly heartbroken. He quickly jerked his gaze back down. “It’s nothing.”

“Then what happened?”

He quickly thought up any excuse that wouldn’t sound stupid or trivial. “I am merely concerned with what resources I’ll have at my disposal tomorrow. Caphon women are used to a level of… splendor…when it comes to their times of … respite.” He was thankful for the other term, for he still felt awkward using the term “bathing” or “bath” around her. It just wasn’t proper. “Most Alonian women only respite for five or ten minutes, and thus the ration has been portioned out accordingly.”

Anneliese grabbed his hands again, accidentally knocking the book from them and onto the floor. She plucked it up and apologized profusely. “I didn’t know. Oh, Janus, I’m so sorry. You should have told me.”

He felt like a heel. He wasn’t truly bothered by her use of his water. Sure, rations and all that. But he was concerned that she was just playing him along like a toy. And he refused to be someone’s toy.

“It’s fine. Forget about it. It wasn’t like I could stop you mid-respite anyway.”

She gave him a flirtatious smile. He felt a smile fighting to come to his face and stifled it. She saw it, however, and gave him a wink. “Let me know these things. No matter when, no matter where. I don’t want to put you out.” He brushed off her comments, but she squeezed his hands firmly. He looked up. “I mean it, Janus. If I’m a bother, or if I’m being uncouth, let me know. I trust your judgment.” She leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Janus watched with unfettered amazement as she flitted her way back across the room and finished preparing herself for their journey.

The journey was uneventful. Janus, armed with his bow but forgoing the bulkier armor he preferred in battle, escorted the princess out of the city and into the forest. Since he couldn’t procure a dragon for the trip, they opted to borrow two horses from the stable in town. Though the bigger cities had all converted to more motorized transports, the more remote outposts–and the more stubborn ones–still preferred horse or dragon as the chief mode of transportation. But all the dragons had either been dispatched or were resting from all the long travels they had been making lately.

So horse it was. Janus tried to adjust himself to horseback travel once again. Since he had been raised in a wealthy home, travel by horse was rare for him. His family preferred riding the storran, a large, flightless bird that could reach speeds of fifty miles per hour for sustained lengths. Needless to say, a powerful steed of that nature was rare and of great value. That being the case, Janus had been unable to procure any. He hadn’t even bothered trying to meet up with his father. The elderly statesman would be too busy for such trivialities.

The steeds they now rode, galloping through the wide forest roads, were nonetheless of superior stock. Anneliese laughed happily. “This is wonderful!”

Janus cocked an eyebrow. Has she never been on a horse before? he wondered. But he quickly dismissed the thought. She rode with practiced ease. And speed. He watched as Anneliese expertly maneuvered the horse around a vehicle, waving at the driver and shouting an apology that was swiftly lost to the trees as she flashed by. Janus saluted him and continued on his way, desperately hoping to keep up with his charge.

Anneliese

Day 1: 2:10 PM

The two finally came to a small village along a sparkling blue stream. She marveled at how it could stay so clean. Janus reigned up alongside her, gasping and petting the sweating, heaving flank of his steed. “So, you’re new at this, I take it?” he said.

“Oh, Janus! You told a joke.”

He managed a slight, exhausted smile and wiped his brow. “Still not used to these things.”

“You said you don’t ride them much? What do you ride?”

“We have large birds—you saw them near the stables— called storran.”

She nodded. She’d seen the large, mottled birds pecking and scratching in the fields by the stables. They reminded her of large chickens, at least in the way they moved. “Can they fly?”

Janus shook his head no. “Not far, at least. We usually clip their wings anyway, when they’re young. It wouldn’t do to have one of them getting out of his pen.”

“Why can’t we take one?”

“Father’s permission is required for any use of them. They’re royal property.” He shrugged unhappily. “Even I can’t borrow them without permission, and Father’s far too busy to be bothered with such things.”

Anneliese nodded. She understood the frustrations of responsibility. She’d been running from it her whole life. That’s why she loved it here. She dismounted and removed the bridle from her horse. She attached the halter and led the horse to a nearby stream. As she draped the bridle and reins across the pommel, she turned to the young guard.

“How far are we from the canyon?”

“It’s probably another mile that way. We’ll leave the horses here with a groom and take the ferry.”

“A ferry?”

“Oh, I forgot. Caphon doesn’t have any natural rivers, does it?”

She shook her head. “Not in the city.” Every body of water in the city was either a canal or some other form of controlled waterway. Even rain run-off took specific paths under the roads. It was all controlled. Everything in the city was controlled, and channeled, and governed. She hated it.

“Well, there’ll be a boat coming to this dock any moment now. They typically shuttle raw materials from the dwarves to Rift, but business has been slow lately. Hopefully, it will pull up and take on any customers.”

“How big is it?”

Janus thought for a moment. “I don’t know… a few people can usually fit on it. It’s not too large.”

Anneliese gave a squeal of joy, causing Janus to jump. “What?”

“I’ve never been on a boat like that! All the boats in the city are stupid fuel-cell-powered things. And they’re massive, like floating houses. To see something that simply floats with the current…” She trailed off. “What happens when we get to the end?”

Janus shrugged. “I guess we get off. The last stop is Rift. It’s the closest land route down into the canyon. We’ll get off there and catch a caravan into the lower regions.”

Anne squirmed with excitement. She watched as a small raft made its way down the river. The gondola poled his way over to the dock and tied off. He disembarked and bowed to the two elves. “How may I help you today?” he asked as he helped a woman off of the boat. She was a human, and seemed rather well-off. She gave them a nod.

“We’d like to book passage to Rift, please.”

“Well, ain’t that convenient.” The ferryman aided another passenger and stepped aboard to fetch the man’s luggage. He passed it off to the man, receiving a small bag in return. He opened it, smiled, then nodded to the two customers as they walked away. “Good fortune be with ye here.”

Janus stepped into the boat, passing several mynx to the man as he did. The man bowed. “Elven currency, eh? Best thing going these days.”

Anneliese opened her billfold and was about to pay for her fare when Janus stopped her. “My treat, my lady.”

She closed her mouth and gave him a warm smile. He extended his hand. She took it, and stepped down into the raft.

“Are we waiting for anyone else?” she asked.

The ferryman shook his head. “Not that I know of. I’ll check at the next dock. If not, then looks like it’s just the three of us on to Rift. Best make yerselves comfortable.”

Cici

2:15 PM

It had taken Cici nearly two hours to calm down. She had wandered down the street, stumbling her way past houses and parked vehicles until she came to Grunt’s blacksmith shop. It wasn’t truly a blacksmith shop in the sense of the old-timey forge with a primitive smokestack and open arrangement. It was a factory in which dozens of powerfully-built men and orcs slaved over open pits and titanic forges. The only part that still reminded her of an old-fashioned blacksmith was the faux-wood sign with the name “Grunt’s Forge” emblazoned on it in letters that appeared to be wood-burned. The sign was, however, metal.

Cici stumbled into the door and managed to find her way across the factory floor to the offices. The air was hot and forbidding, stifling. She sat down in Grunt’s chair, disturbing the thick layer of dust on it. Grunt almost never sat down. At the thought, Cici felt tears forming again. She wiped her eyes and just sat quietly. No one came to the office to disturb her. She sat there for a while, trying to get herself under control. The smoke and heat reminded her of the burnt odor of the ghoul. She had smelled that somewhere before. She fought to pull herself together, to cope with the insurmountable feeling of loss.

Finally, she stood and walked back into the main forge. She could see customers milling about in the waiting area. She wiped her eyes again and caught her reflection in the mirror as she passed. Her green eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Her face was smeared with dirt. Drops of what she could only assume was the ghoulish ichor dotted her face and blouse, which was still torn from near her neck down to her shoulder. From her clumped, disheveled brown hair to her torn clothes, she looked in every point a mess.

But she needed to help. She attempted to vainly fix her hair into a manageable position, then wiped some of the ichor off her face. Content she’d done all she could, she made her way down to deal with the customers.

“Where’s Grunt? I need my plow fixed!” “Yah, he promised he’d take a look at my tractor. A bearing’s come loose and it’s not tilling the way it was.” “My shuttle’s turbines are shredded. I need him to hammer them out. He’s the only one who does this type of work anymore.” These customers had been waiting for hours, under the pretense that Grunt was simply caught up in a previous engagement and that their wait would be rewarded. Cici waved them over.

“Grunt won’t be in today. He’s not feeling well.”

“He’d better be dead!” cried one customer. “I can’t miss this harvest because he decided to take a sick day.”

“Hey! Shut your trap!” Cici snapped, a surge of anger rising in her throat. Hot, angry tears stung at the corners of her eye. “He wouldn’t make excuses if he wasn’t serious. Now get your foul…!” Before she could continue, she was overcome by a sharp ringing in her ear. She doubled over for a moment, grabbing the side of her head. When it cleared, she looked up to see several of the customers looking down over the counter at her.

“Are you okay, miss?”

“Of course I am!” she screamed. It was the same man whom she had been in the middle of berating earlier. “The shop’s closed. Get out and come back tomorrow! No!” she continued, interrupting their objections. “No one here can help you. Now get out!”

Grumbling, the customers turned and dragged their various broken devices out of the shop. The door shut behind the last one. As soon as it did, Cici rushed across the room, pressed the lock, and sealed the door. She leaned back against the door and let the sorrow take her again. She could feel the hot waves pouring over her. She heard screams. She felt the fire again, and smelled the sickly-sweet stench of burnt human flesh. She sobbed.

“Daddy…”

Anneliese

2:45 PM

The voyage down the Alonhill River toward Rift was uneventful. Small animals darted in and out among the rushes, and at one point, the pilot had to pole his way off of some rocks to keep the raft from getting stuck among the swirling eddy currents. As they came to the ferry stop in the middle of the forest, a stop known as “Upper Terrace,” they slowed. No one was around.

“Strange,” muttered the ferryman, moving them closer. 

“What?” asked Anneliese.

“No one there. Usually there’s at least a groom watching the stable,” he replied. Then he called out, “Frederick! Yo! Fred, you there?”

No one answered. Anneliese wondered if he’d gone off to use the facilities or something. The ferryman pulled up alongside the dock. “You, elf-boy. Tie off. I need to see what’s going on.”

Janus seemed nonplussed at the comment but complied. Then he accompanied the ferryman, and the two stepped off the raft onto the short dock.

“I’ll come, too.”

“No,” replied Janus. “Stay here, my lady. It may not be safe.”

She sat herself heavily on the raft and folded her arms. “Yah, and if you get yourself killed, I’ll be perfectly safe right here.”

Janus handed her a dagger with a wink. She scowled back at him, snatched the dagger from his hand, and turned away. She wasn’t going to allow him to treat her like a delicate flower. But he didn’t rise to her bait, and she felt the rhythmic bouncing of the dock and raft as the two men began to make their way down the dock.

Anneliese waited a moment, hoping she had made Janus feel guilty enough to return and permit her to go. But the bouncing slowed, and soon all she heard and felt was the rhythmic sloshing as the Alonhill slowly wended its way toward the canyon about a mile down its banks. She hazarded a glance over her shoulder. The ferryman was nowhere to be seen; he had apparently vanished around the building. Janus was looking at something on the ground, his large bow in one hand, an arrow in another. With a huff, she turned her back to him again and began to examine the river.

Across the way, several hundred feet as far as she could tell, sat another dock. As she watched, a slow, shuffling form moved across the far end of the dock, taking no notice as it exited the forest, walked across the planks, and then ended up vanishing into the forest again, all at a brisk yet consistent pace. Annaliese shaded her eyes with her hands, trying to see better. Whatever it was, it seemed injured, as it limped slightly and seemed to be dragging one of its legs.

Her eyes passed up the dock on the other side of the river to where she noticed a cable extending both ways underwater. In fact, it almost seemed like the cable also extended across the river as well, just a little deeper. She leaned forward in the raft, and found the spot where the cable attached to this side of the river. So that’s how this raft gets back up the river, she thought. Apparently the pilot simply attached the cable and some sort of drive mechanism dragged it back up against the current. And the cable could be used to quickly cross the swift current with little concern. She wondered if these cables were at every crossing-point.

She had heard in the old days that boat pilots would sell their rafts at the end of their route and simply buy a new one when they returned home. With a raft this rickety, she’d assumed the pilot would just ride by shuttle back up the river and just get a new raft back home.

“Clever,” she muttered. She noticed another form wandering past the far dock. Maybe the groom had ridden a ship across to take care of business over there. She turned to ask Janus and realized he was gone. Neither of the two men were in view. She looked back to the other side. The new figure was now standing on the dock, looking out across the current. It was staring at her.

Her sharp eyes caught something strange about this new visitor, and it made her heart stop momentarily. She wanted to cry out, but her voice caught in her throat. She turned. The ferryman was coming out from behind the stables. He was limping from an injury to his leg. She turned back to the figure across the river. He was closer to the end of the dock now, and was very deliberately coming toward her. She watched, almost entranced, as he stumbled off the edge of the dock and was caught up in the steady current of the deep river. His arms clutched desperately in the air as he was whisked off downstream toward Rift.

Anneliese was terrified. She’d never seen anything like that. She clutched her dagger tighter and turned to get Janus’s or the ferryman’s attention. But they were both gone again. 

“Janus?” she called. No answer. She cautiously stood in the raft, bracing herself against the rhythmic jerking of the boat, and stepped onto the pier. It was short, only a dozen feet at most. A small canoe was tied up against the downstream side of the dock; but other than that, it was empty. She felt the buoys springing in the water with each step she took and could see the flexion between each panel of the bobbing pier. Special hinges had been installed about halfway down it to allow for the bouncing movement. She walked carefully, unsure of herself. 

She called out again. “Janus?” She tried to think of the ferryman’s name but realized she’d never actually asked. “Boatman?”

No reply. She smelt burnt wood on the air. And something else. Sulfur?

“Janus? This isn’t funny. Where are you?”

She continued her trek, slowly and cautiously, down the dock. As she did, she thought about the thing from the other side of the river. Without a doubt, it had been a ghoul. She had only read about them in school; and even then, she had barely paid enough attention to fully understand their history. She had thought them fairy tales. Her parents had told her about the invasion from the east centuries ago, about how a massive creature known only as Czernoboch had drawn together a massive army and descended upon the lands of Caphon and Alon, slaughtering at will all he could. She didn’t remember much more and hadn’t cared to. If the story had actually been true, the good guys had won so who really cared how?

But now, standing alone and feeling exposed and defenseless, with ghouls apparently roaming the forests this close to Alon, she began to wonder just how her people had driven back the invaders those many centuries ago. The Battle of Bare Mountain, or some name like that, came to her mind. She couldn’t remember.

And then it all became too real. She heard a noise and turned toward the stable to see a fallen horse. Its neck was ripped open, the amount of dirt stirred up around it letting her know it had been taken down while it was still alive. A look of wide-eyed horror was plastered on its face.

Rising up from behind the creature, eyes aglow with a strange fire, was something new. Its face was dark like the evening light over the depths of the ocean. Two glowing eyes, slanting away from a small, flat nose glared up at her with such malice that she felt her heart quail and she longed to flee all the way home and toss herself under the deepest blanket, as if the covers themselves could prevent harm. Its ears were long and pointed, like an elf’s, but tapered flat back against its head. It rose to full height, nearly equal with hers, and wiped a single, three-fingered hand across its bloodied mouth. It hissed at her as it slowly stepped around the corpse and strode forward toward her.

The dark skin seemed to vanish, deceiving her into seeing just two eyes floating toward her, flaming lamps full of malice and hate. Her heart constricted, and she felt a stifled scream rise in her throat. “Janus!” The acrid stench of burnt matches filled her nostrils.

Memories washed over her. Burning cities. Dead bodies. Creatures, like this one, leveling entire villages. Flames licking the atmosphere. She choked back a horrified sob and heaved her dagger at the creature. The blade stuck true in the left eye-socket of the beast. It howled in pain and vanished into the forest, moving so fast she couldn’t track it with her eyes.

The noise attracted others, only these were ghouls. The shambling corpses slowly strode from the depths of the forest, coming from all sides. She shrieked, defenseless, and fell back to the dock. The ghouls stepped around the corpse of the horse, ignoring the fallen beast, and slowly moved on her. They had all the menace of a pack of hyenas, with none of the intelligence; and for some reason, that terrified Annaliese all the more. Her foot caught on a loose plank, and she fell hard against the dock. She pulled herself a few feet back, watching as the first ghoul stepped awkwardly onto the boards in front of her.

In desperation, she pulled herself aright and began to half-run, half-limp down the dock. She threw herself into the raft and began to unwrap the rope from the cleat. The ghouls were almost upon her when she finally unfastened the last bit of rope and shoved herself free. She let out a stifled cry. The raft twirled awkwardly in the water and slowly caught the current. The foremost ghoul staggered off the edge of the dock and plunged into the water. It desperately paddled a few moments, then sank beneath the waves.

Anneliese pulled herself as close to the middle of the boat as she could and grabbed a spare paddle, ready to use it as a weapon if need be. The tiller bar dragged behind her, causing the boat to drift aimlessly in the water.

A single hand burst from the now-murky river. She whaled on it with the paddle, heard a satisfying crunch, and watched it vanish beneath the waves once again. Then all was still, save for the sloshing of the river as it carried its sole passenger down toward Rift.

Anneliese watched in stunned horror as ghouls slowly staggered from all parts of the forest on either side of her. It was as if some great call had gone up. They were swarming. Body after rotting body plunked into the river, some dropping off the steep sides while others slid down less steep embankments, rolling end-over-end and sliding unceremoniously into the darkening waters.

Plunk!

One scrabbled at the edge of her raft. She smashed it with the paddle and shuddered inside as the crunching of both bones and wood met her ears. Where is Janus? she wondered.  Was he dead? Had he been eaten by one of these monstrosities?

A body floated near. Long blond hair danced around it. Its head twitched spasmodically and hands writhed, splashing and cavorting in the water. It appeared to be an elf. Anneliese was tempted to use the paddle to flip it over, but horror gripped her in a way she couldn’t express. She watched as the writhing corpse drifted past, caught in a faster moving section of the river.

To her continued horror, she noticed more bodies were drifting past. Her raft had caught on something and was now drifting aimlessly back and forth in the middle of the river. She hazarded a move toward the back of the raft. Her tiller bar had snagged on the cables that ran down the river. She jostled it, hoping to break free.

The raft bounced, and she turned. A ghoul was already halfway into the boat.

With a shriek, she rushed back and rounded the paddle, catching the creature neatly under his chin. The wood shattered, but with its final blow, it snapped the corpse’s head back and sent the body pitching back into the water. Still twitching in its death throws, the body wafted in the current and vanished from sight. Annaliese dropped the broken oar and wrenched on the tiller. It wouldn’t budge.

The boat bobbed again. Another ghoul. She slammed the tiller with all her might and felt something give. The bar popped up out of the water, now disconnected from the rudder. The boat began to move again. Annaliese brought the broken shaft of the tiller around and slammed it against another ghoul. The body fell sideways and landed in the boat. It scrabbled awkwardly, knocking the broken paddle overboard.

Now riding a rudderless boat, armed with a few feet of broken wood, and watching her only other weapon drifting into the waiting hands of a passing ghoul, Anneliese screamed in panic one more time. “Janus!” Her voice reverberated across the waters but was answered only by the sloshing of another ghoul and the haunting echo of the river.

Cici

5:07 PM

Cici pulled her hair back into a neat topknot, and her bangs streamed down on either side of her face. The shower had proved to be just what the doctor ordered. She ran a hand across the mirror to wipe away the steam. Her face was clean once more.

“What’s that?” she asked. A light pink line ran down her left eye. She hadn’t noticed it when she was covered in grime. What had she gotten into? I hope it won’t scar, she thought.

She looked back in the mirror and ran a finger along the scar. She scowled and pulled out her makeup. Maybe she could conceal it somehow? She began to fumble through her supplies when a knock came at the door. She ignored it. No one she cared about would be coming by this time of day. Almost everyone in the city would be sitting down to dinner.

She began to apply the right shade of covering, watching as the scar vanished. She nodded. Good, she thought. She pulled out lipstick. Anyone who had seen her today would need a new image to remember her by. No way she wanted the boys in town remembering a sad, bedraggled mess of a girl accompanying them.

The knock came again.

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” she muttered. Go away! she thought. Out loud, she said, “I don’t want to buy it or read it or learn about it. I just want to be left alone.”

“Master Grunt!” A muffled voice, full of urgency and … terror? … announced from the other side of the door.

Cici peaked her head out of the bathroom. A few stray strands of hair fell over her eyes. She brushed them out and secured them with a pin. Why would anyone be wanting Grunt? Didn’t they know he was sick or missing, depending on which rumor they had heard first. She had spread both throughout the day, depending on the importance of the individual she was talking to at that moment. Her curiosity was not sufficiently piqued, so she popped back into the bathroom and continued to examine herself in the mirror.

She had begun to apply the lipstick when the knock game again. This time forceful, demanding.

“Master Grunt, I need to speak with you. Now!”

She was about to answer when there came a door-cracking thud. She let out a shriek and slammed the bathroom door in alarm. Instinctively, she turned off the light and locked the door behind her, then pulled herself up on the toilet. She clapped her hand over her own mouth to keep from announcing her presence again.

A scream came from outside. Then another crunch. This time Cici couldn’t tell if it was a body or the door.

Crunch!

She heard another scream. Then everything was quiet.

Crunch! 

This time, it was the door. Instead of knocking, something was battering the door in. Cici looked around, trying to find something – anything – to use as a weapon. Whatever was coming was large, strong, and intended to kill. She grabbed the curtain rod, cringing as half of it fell free and clattered loudly against the tiles. She was now left holding half of a useless plastic tube. She was about to toss it aside when she remembered the noise. Lowering herself off the toilet, she gently placed it on the floor and looked about again.

Crunch! 

The door finally gave way, and something large entered the house. She could hear heavy footfalls, accompanied by deep, breathy grunts and wheezes. Several sets of clattering feet, with joined wheezing and groaning sounds, followed. She pressed herself against the bathroom wall and held her breath. Something was climbing the wall on the other side. It was on the wall! What kind of creature could climb walls?

She could hear clattering feet and the telltale sounds of pictures being knocked free from the walls. Glass shattered. She heard the sound of a china cabinet–one that had belonged to her mother–toppling sideways and shattering. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was convinced whatever creatures were on the other side would hear it. She took a deep breath, fighting back the tears of abject terror that arose, unbidden in her eyes. The noise outside stopped.

Several harrowing seconds stretched into minutes. She stayed rigid as she could, her body nonetheless quivering in fright. She slowly relaxed. Perhaps they were gone.

Another minute passed. She relaxed a little more.

There was a crunch in the broken glass outside. She saw shadows appear in the light that streamed under her door. She was alone, in a dark room, the only light that filtered in through a small, round window above the toilet.

The window!

For a moment, she thought of escape; but that hope turned to terror when the eye appeared.

Reddish-orange, seemingly illuminated by some background source, a single eye gazed in through the small window. It seemed to look through her, into her very soul. As the terror of discovery welled up inside Cici, the entire bathroom shuddered when something titanic slammed into the other side of the bathroom door. Cici flopped forward and screamed as the mirror toppled off the wall and shattered against the counter, showering her with sharp points of broken glass.

The door buckled on its hinges as the force struck again. In desperation, Cici dragged herself through the broken glass, ignoring the pain and terror, and snatched up the two disconnected halves of the shower rod. Holding both in one hand, she seized the shower curtain in the other hand and spun to face the attacker.

She stood to face the shards of a broken door. The titan had finally broken through, taking the door frame and parts of the wall on either side with him. She staggered back into the toilet, which broke under the sudden weight and snapped sideways. A pipe broke free, spraying the room with water.

Struggling to keep her balance, Cici leapt sideways and landed awkwardly in the bathtub. She promptly lost her footing, bashing her elbow against the faucet and accidentally ripping it off. She could feel sparks of pain rip through her arm, and the poles from the shower rod skittered across the floor.

The titanic beast, grey-green in color, sporting footlong tusks and a row of ferocious spikes down the back of its naked body, thundered into the bathroom and promptly lost footing on the water. It, too, staggered, crashing into the far wall. Cici screamed as plaster and shards of broken wood rained down on her. The ceiling sagged.

The beast righted itself, slid again, and stomped painfully on a protruding pipe. It shrieked in anger and brought an angry fist down against the back wall of the bathroom. The wall gave under the assault, bending in and causing the ceiling to sag down ominously.

Something in her told her to run. Jumping upward, Cici tossed the curtain over the face of the beast and sprang from the bathroom. She could hear the crunching of glass and china, could feel the throbbing pain throughout her body and the sticky blood running from an unknown cut into her boot. But she didn’t care. The beast in the bathroom was confused and angry, and lashed out, attempting to rip the shower curtain off its face. Apparently, it knocked out another wall, and in the confusion, the roof collapsed on it.

Cici sped from the house, knowing she was likely running into more danger but not caring. She had to flee the danger behind her. She rushed headlong into a fleeing citizen, who fell sideways and vanished with a cry. Something had flown by and snatched him up. He vanished into the rooftops with a blood-curdling shriek.

Staggered, Cici regained her footing and sped toward the Span, the bridge that crossed the canyon, forming the only land route over the canyon and providing a breathtaking view of the Bridaldeath Falls that marked the terminus of the Alonhill River.

Spiderlike creatures swarmed out of buildings, plucking fleeing humans, elves, and orcs as they attempted to reach safety. Ghouls, apparently freshly washed from the river, as they were dripping wet and trailing long puddles behind them, preyed upon the injured. She saw a fire well up as something in a nearby house exploded, and the house she had just passed vanished in a burst of fire and smoke. She continued on, rushing in abject terror, but with a determination born of desperation.

Anneliese

5:30 PM

A horrible scent met the young elf. She had been floating for the last half hour, periodically freeing the raft from this encumbrance or that, unsnagging it from vines here or pushing it free of an underwater rocky outcropping there. The ghouls had let up. In fact, she hadn’t seen any sign of them for at least ten minutes.

Now, the sprawling city of Rift came into view; and by the smell alone, she knew something was wrong. It was the smell of fear, the smell of death. It was the smell of soiled pants and blood. Something was happening. The sky above was choked with the ash of a dozen fires. Large, shapeless forms swam in and out of the rising columns of smoke. As she rounded the final bend in the river, she could see before her the shimmering expanse of the Span. It was on fire.

All the horror she had witnessed washed away in a new wave of panic as she realized she was on a rudderless boat, heading toward the waterfall that marked the end of the Alonhill River. Usually, by this point the ferryman would have steered the boat closer to the far bank, so as to hook into the underwater cable. But there was no steering the raft. Anneliese watched in helpless despair as her small raft, guideless and aimless, pitched rapidly toward the nearby falls.

The falls were within a hundred yards now. Anneliese steeled herself for her inevitable fate. Wait! Steel. The cables! She remembered the cable running across the river. It hadn’t been extremely close to the surface, but it was close enough. There couldn’t have been much slack. Perhaps the cables served another purpose here in Rift. Maybe they were designed to catch ships before they plunged over the falls.

Anneliese reached for her tiller, then realized her entire rudder structure had snapped off. Even if there were some sort of safety mechanism, it would be hopeless for her. She was riding a raft that sat nearly flush with the surface of the water.

But she could grab it!

Anneliese watched the empty void rapidly approach. Nearly her whole field of view was now occupied by the yawning expanse. Above her hung the sparkling suspension bridge that was the Span, now burning. To her left was the burning, chaos-ridden city of Rift. To the right, the dense, forbidding jungle that rimmed the northern border of the canyon. But in front, the greatest danger of them all–the falls known by the locals as Bridaldeath Falls.

She saw no other choice. Death on all sides. She leapt.

Jaffe

Day 3: 10:46 AM

He awoke in a mass of reddish-brown fur that smelled of stale beer. “Gerroff me you monster!” He cried.

The dwarf tumbled backwards and felt the beast fall on top of his chest. Half its bulk lay across his mouth. He spat and cursed and tried desperately to rise. “Gerroff me, you brute! I’ll gut ye! Gerroff!”

“Sir, please calm down.”

“Get yer great beasty off me!”

“Sir, that’s your beard.”

The dwarf kicked and spat, rolling over onto his stomach. The weight vanished. He could breathe again. He still smelled stale beer.

He looked about, then looked down. His disheveled beard hung down in front of him, matted and dirty. And smelling of booze. He brushed locks of chestnut hair out of his eyes and plucked his fur hat from the ground. A coontail hung from the back. He shoved this down onto his head and rose to full height–which was about four feet.

“Well, yer no help.”

The bartender gave a patient sigh and slid a sheet of paper across the counter. The dwarf scoffed as he read it.

“240! Are ye daft, lad. No drink’s worth a tenth o’ that!”

“Sir, you’ve been here three days. You just passed out in your chair… for the fifth time.”

The dwarf scoffed again. “I ain’t paying it!”

The bartender sighed again. “I was afraid you’d say that.” He reached under the counter and apparently pressed a button. There was a buzzing sound and a slight whir.

“Wha’s that?” asked the dwarf. In answer, his world suddenly flipped upside down. He let out a little “Oof!” as his head bounced against the floor. He snatched his hat up and grappled for his rifle as a small droid whisked him out of the seat and plopped him unceremoniously out the door into the steamy depths of the jungle.

Jaffe’s dog rushed up to meet him, washing his beard in dog saliva and happiness.

“Gerroff, you old blunder!” He shoved the dog away, repositioned the hat on his head with the most dignity he could and waved his rifle at the parting droid. “Tha’s how yer gonna treat yer oldest customer?”

The door slammed shut, and he heard the mechanized whir of a lock. He paused, comically.

“I guess so.”

His dog gave a playful bark.

“Ah, shove off ye ol’ bounder.”

The dog seemed to smile as it barked again, jumping up on him and licking the side of his face, at least what little was visible under the prodigious beard. He shoved the dog off again. “G’wan. Git off!”

He tossed his rifle across his back and pressed two fingers into his mouth. They tasted like cheese, but he tried to ignore that. He gave a shrill whistle.

A deep, sonorous bark rang in the forest. Jaffe stood to his full height, brushing dirt and debris from his clothes and using his fingers to pluck the largest pieces of debris from his beard. A light quaking announced the arrival of his quarry–a large, brown vargr, snarling and slavering. It was a huge wolf, nearly as tall as he was at the shoulder. He petted its dark muzzle. “Good boy, Gorg. Hup!”

The vargr lowered a shoulder, allowing his master to mount it and settle himself on the back, just behind the jutting, muscular shoulders. Jaffe plucked the reins and gave them a single crack. “Hyep!”

The beast bounded off into the forest.

It took Jaffe a moment to acclimate his half-drunken form to the pitching and rolling of the beast’s shoulders. His smaller dog yipped and barked as it tried to keep up. “Come, Hati!”

The three vanished into the jungle.

Cici

Day 1: 5:40 PM

A patrol of creatures passed by the spot where Cici had been hiding. She peaked her head out of the alley. They were gone. She darted out and made a mad dash for the Span. The guardhouse was in ruins. Something had crushed the entire thing and cast the remains into the canyon. Smoke billowed from the bridge, but she didn’t have a choice. Sprinting right out, ignoring the sharp pains screaming out from what seemed like every pore of her body, she bolted straight for the Span.

A dark form swooped down and made a snatch at her. She felt talons rake her back, and shrieked as the back of her blouse tore. Pain lanced her back, and she instinctively turned to beat at the muscular legs that were scrambling to lift her off the ground. They released her, and she continued running, trying to ignore the sharp bolts of fear and pain that cut through her.

She felt the Span bouncing under her and coughed as acrid smoke filled her lungs. She tottered blindly across the bridge, the roar of Bridaldeath Falls filling her ears.

She could hear the thump! thump! of her boots as they smacked against the planks of the Span. Occasionally she heard the whistle and pop as parts of the suspension bridge began to buckle and snap.

The fire was taking its toll. She kept running.

Something landed in front of her. The Span bounced, and several cables snapped. Cici felt her feet fly out from under her. Leathery wings folded back against the creature’s body. A long, blackish grey neck–its skin shimmering like the slimy wetness of an eel–sinuously maneuvered toward her. Perched atop it was a small, similarly colored head with two small, black, cold eyes without a shred of intelligence. What it lacked, it made up for in sheer malevolence. Two small claws wiggled angrily at her. She scooted backwards.

It was a wyvern. Whatever its motivation for singling her out was unclear. It tottered uncomfortably as it tried to position itself on the Span. The fire was clearly irritating it, as the snakelike head attempted repeatedly to move out of the billowing plumes of smoke. Muscular legs attempted to find footing on the swaying bridge.

Frustrated, the beast beat its powerful wings and rose into the air a few feet. Cici took this opportunity and rushed forward, ducking under its snatching claws. The wyvern shrieked in anger and attempted to make a grab at her. Instead, a single foot snagged itself on the rope cables that made up the sides of the bridge. With a cry of anger, it wrenched itself free, tipping its wing too close to one of the guy wires that stretched across the canyon.

Cici began to sprint again. The wyvern, its wing snagged in the cables of the bridge, released a cry of rage and spat acid on the ropes. The ropes immediately unraveled, but not before the clumsy beast managed to ravel itself in another cable. One wing came free as a foot tangled itself again.

Cici could hear more cables snapping as wire after wire came free under the wyvern’s assault. She could see the other end of the bridge rising up out of the mist and smoke. 

So close.

Then the world dropped out from under her.

Anneliese

5:36 PM

She leaped. Her fingers stretched out. She cried out in the water as the raft passed over her, the wood scraping up her back as it went. She felt the back of her shirt catch, and screamed as she was towed awkwardly through the water toward the falls.

She reached up and tore at her shirt. The back tore free, and she gulped a desperate breath as she dove. She angled herself toward the falls and beat her legs, swimming low enough to avoid the raft and yet not so deep that she’d miss the cable.

She prayed to every god she could think of, her hands waving desperately through the water, hoping to catch even the edge of the cable.

Her entire world was a rush of bubbles, foam, and noise. She could feel her body pitching wildly toward the precipice.

Please… please… please.

Something struck her in the side.

A body pitched past her and vanished in the maelstrom.

She reached out, her muscles aching. She caught something with the tips of her fingers…

A log.

She grunted and reached again.

Please… please… please…

Something else connected with her hand. She closed her fingers around it. It felt solid.

It felt metal.

It jostled in the water, but held. If this wasn’t the cable, she didn’t have time to try again. She gripped it desperately with the grip a dying victim gives when clinging to the rescuer and prayed again.

Please…please… please…

Her lungs were ready to explode. She unclenched one hand and reached higher up. It was long enough to be the cable. She pulled herself farther along it, her hands closing with painful grip. She had to get to the surface. But she couldn’t let go or she’d die.

She reached higher, pulling herself further and further.

Bright flashes exploded at the edge of her vision. She was drowning. She could feel her body twitching uncontrollably as she desperately pulled herself along.

Her vision began to blur.

So close…

Then a rush of relief. Her head broke the surface. She gulped the precious air desperately before the river could plunge her down again.

Black water, cold as ice, flashed around her. She pulled herself further. So close…

She could see the dock. It was only a few yards away now. Her breath came in desperate chokes. She continued, hand over hand. Desperation powering her exhausted muscles. 

A body was snagged on the cable, its foot hooking awkwardly and the top of its body waving almost comically in the water. Blonde hair billowed around a wounded head. Red filled the water.

Unwilling to think about Janus while looking at this body, Anneliese gave a slight jerk to the cable. The foot came free and the body pitched over the falls. She noted, almost detached as she did, a large bow float past and plummet after the body. Heartsick and tired, Anneliese pulled herself onto the dock and gave a choking cry. She gasped greedily for air, shrieked at the pain, and bemoaned Janus.

A rending snap temporarily interrupted her revelry. She looked out over the river. Through the sparkling mist, which under any other circumstances would look beautiful, she watched in numb detachment as the bridge from Rift snapped in two and plummeted into the gorge below. She collapsed in a bleeding heap on the dock.

She felt rough hands against her skin and barely fought as she was dragged bodily away from the river.

Janus

2:50 PM (several hours earlier)

Janus scowled behind him as he and the ferryman walked down the short dock. Snubbed again! he thought. I’m just looking out for your safety. 

If he didn’t protect her, who knew what trouble she could find herself in, and he couldn’t worry about fighting if he was worried about protecting her. He cast a final gaze over his shoulder and saw her still looking away from him. He felt a pain in his heart but determined he was going to be strong.

The two men stopped in front of the stable. Janus reached over his shoulder and drew his bow. He had brought it along as a habit and was now glad he had. A deathly silence filled the air. No birds sang. Not even crickets chirped. Only the distant sloshing of the river and splashing of water on the dock interrupted the chilling quiet.

“What could have done this?” asked the ferryman, pointing down.

Janus followed his finger and spotted a half-eaten horse, lying in a coagulating pool of its own blood. He bent over the corpse and pointed at the neck with an arrow. “Something sliced this thing open. Look, it was being eaten while it was still alive.” 

Sure enough, the soil was disturbed around the horse, and a body lay nearby. It had clearly suffered a kick to the head while the horse struggled.

The ferryman wandered around the building, following a trail of blood. Janus bent over the corpse. “Why would anyone do such a thing?” he asked. The corpse was apparently male, of common blood. Beyond that, Janus couldn’t tell. The face had collapsed under the kick of the horse, and dark black blood oozed from the fractured remains of what had been the mouth and nose.

Janus’s investigation was interrupted with a shout. He stood and, taking one last look at the vile specimen, followed the ferryman’s tracks through the dirt. “What happened?” He cast a gaze at Anneliese. She seemed to be shading her eyes and staring at something across the river. What is so interesting? he momentarily wondered.  

He traipsed around the back of the building. “Hey, you all right?”

The ferryman lay facedown in the dirt several feet away. 

“Did you trip?” Janus asked as he walked closer, still looking around. He was about to extend a hand to help the man up when he saw the dart.

A long, black, featherless shaft formed of solid metal protruded from the back of the man’s head. Someone had shot him from behind. Already a pool of deep crimson was forming in the dirt around the man’s down-turned face. Janus immediately threw himself against the stable and fitted an arrow to his bow. He activated it and listened confidently to the whining hum as the capacitors charged.

His heart began to race, and he began to review what he had seen up to this point. Dozens of footprints in the sand, bloody prints specifically leading around to this spot. He had smelled something strange, like the acrid stench released by a burnt match. Why did these seem familiar?

Think, Janus! Your life depends on this!

Instead, flaming buildings rose up in his mind. His father, bloody, dying in his arms. What did this all mean? His father was still alive. Or was he?

There was that scent again. Matches, burning, air… Air burning!

He instinctively dropped to the ground. The air above his head flared, and a forest tree exploded. Something had just shot him with pure electricity. He dropped into a crouch and darted forward, down the path. Another bolt of energy washed over his head. He twisted his ankle and screamed in pain as he staggered. A dark-skinned form pursued him. Janus dragged himself into the forest and, wincing against the pain, pulled himself into the underbrush. He fastened his bow across his back and in one smooth gesture lunged toward the nearest tree with his good leg.

He connected with a breath-robbing “oof” and began to climb. His fingers nimbly found every nob and crevasse. He pushed through the sudden throbbing as he hauled himself, hand-over-hand, into the tree. Another burst of energy followed him. It went wide, detonating a branch a few feet away from him. After reaching the branches near the crown, he decided to finally lose his pursuer. He leaped and hobbled from branch to branch, making his way back toward the river. Anneliese would be in trouble.

His foot gave out, and he plummeted several feet, catching himself at the last minute on a single thicker branch. His muscles tightening like cables, he hauled himself back onto the branch and gingerly propped himself among the leaves. The stench of rot met his nose. He looked down and groaned.

Shambling corpses–ghouls–were making their way to the river. It seemed too much of a coincidence for it not to be because of the creature that had attacked him. Is it controlling them? he wondered. 

Janus carefully leapt to the next tree, and the next, until he was hanging over the river. He looked across it to the other dock. Ghouls were pouring out of the opposite forest and plopping one by one into the slow-moving water. He cast his gaze back to the dock and gasped as he saw Anneliese grappling her way back into the boat. She struggled and eventually managed to push the raft free.

The water was teeming with ghouls. From his perch, Janus saw corpse after corpse struggle to mount the small boat. He drew his bow and attempted to hit a few of them. Anneliese didn’t seem to notice, as caught up with the struggle as she was.

Arrow after arrow met its mark, and the corpses fell away from the boat before bobbing awkwardly to the surface and drifting downstream. He watched in horror as a one particular ghoul–a blonde haired elf–grabbed onto the boat. He shot, the bolt piercing the creature in the chest. It writhed once before rolling face down in the water and then drifting downstream past the boat.

The burning smell again.

Janus lunged from his branch almost instinctively. It exploded, a hot wave of energy launching Janus bodily into the nearby branches of a massive pine. The wind was knocked out of his lungs and he choked in pain as his fingers, cut and bleeding, scrabbled for purchase on the new tree. Another blast detonated above him, showering him with sharp splinters.

Janus felt his grip slide, and he toppled through the boughs of the pine. He heard and felt the crack as his ribs crunched against lower branches of the massive pine. His bow caught and held in a collection of branches. His head swimming, and eyes barely registering what was around him, Janus pulled himself onto the branch and choked.

The smell came again, but the shot went high. Another bough exploded. He barely had the energy to protect his head as the branch above him cascaded down, sheering his bow from the tree and plunging all into the cold water below.

He was shocked into alertness as soon as he hit the water. He struggled upright, clutching the floating bough and trying to remain as still as possible. The last thing he needed was another attack, either from the creature on the shore or the ghouls.

He looked upriver. The docks had vanished from sight. He looked downriver. Anneliese was still visible for a few moments before she vanished around the next bend.

At least she’s still alive, he thought. Then the pain took him.

When he finally jerked awake again, it was to the smell of burnt bodies and that strange odor that the energy weapon had emitted. He retched as he tried to pull himself out of the sodden, tangled branches he was tangled in. They had become so entrapped he could barely free himself. As he did so, he spotted his bow, snagged amongst the branches and sticks in his floating dam. He reached for it, but moving jostled it free. He watched in despair as it sank under the river.

A screeching cry rang overhead. He instinctively dropped as a wyvern swooped overhead. He wrenched his foot free of the branches and pressed himself down. The wyvern flew on, spun round, and swept toward the Span which, to Janus’s horror, was in flames.

What is happening? What’s going on?

Rift was ablaze. Wyverns swooped in and out of rising plumes of smoke. He could hear the distinct explosions as buildings erupted. Apparently gas lines were being punctured, and he could see guttering lines of flames erupting lines of orange-white fire tracing through the city.

Rift had fallen.

He pulled himself along the branches.

Cables ran under the river, aiding the movement of the ferries. If he could get to the far side of the river, he could follow the cable and prevent being carried over the falls. He looked downriver and watched in horror. Anneliese’s raft was empty! She had been grabbed! He prepared himself to dive into the water, but felt the trill of fear as his ankle snagged in the gnarled branches once again.

His face plunged into the water. He gasped, accidentally filling his mouth and lungs with cold water. He quickly pulled his head back above the surface and yanked on his ankle, which screamed at him in protest. He slid his foot out of his boot and choked. He reached out for something, anything, to grab onto.

The current pitched and heaved. He was near the opposite bank. There was the cable. He stretched out a hand and had almost reached it when something caught his eye. He looked up. A large branch, bedecked with a dead elf, was hurtling straight for him. He tried to dodge, but the branch connected squarely with the side of his head. His vision flashed, and he went unconscious, caught up in the chaotic motion of the river.

Cici

5:43 PM

Her voice vanished in the yawning chasm. A single hand managed to grab a handrail, and she shrieked in alarm as the entire bridge dropped out. The half she was currently on swung with sickening, stomach-dropping speed toward the far side of the chasm. If she clung to it, she would surely be smashed against the opposite wall.

Smash against the stupid canyon wall or the stupid canyon floor. She thought bitterly as she

rushed toward the cliffs. Curse you, Grunt…

Command

5:40 PM

A dark-haired man, his long black locks hanging limply against his sweating brow, leaned back. “Well, is this a success?” He plucked a cup of coffee from the table. “They’re certainly not the chosen ones, are they? Is that dwarf still drunk in a tavern? When will he leave?”

His companion swiveled around and typed a few commands into a keyboard. “All reports show he shows no signs of leaving the establishment. In other words, he’s performing exactly as expected.”

“And what about the older one? His problems solved yet?” dark-hair asked.

“Should be.” The other replied.

“Well, then let’s see where this leads. The invasion is commencing as planned.”

Grunt

5:30 PM

Grunt felt drunk. His ears were ringing, his mouth was dry, and he had the nagging suspicion his body wasn’t going to respond to any commands in the way he wanted it to. He pushed himself upright. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was that he had passed out in the forest a few miles from Rift. Now he was lying, facedown, near the raptor kennels, which lay on the outskirts of a small village that was separated from Rift by the Span.

Screams rang out around him as survivors of Rift fled into the forest. In the distance, he could see that the Span was on fire. What’s going on?

He quickly rose and darted toward the nearest kennel. “Claw, heel!” He ordered.

Cold, calculating eyes appeared to him from the darkness. Three sharp claws closed over the edge of the paddock. A striped snout protruded from the pen.

“Heel.”

With a single, powerful leap, the creature lunged over the fence and landed with a thud near Grunt. He smiled. The ringing was back. He felt like there was an itchy spot in his brain, and wanted badly to scratch it. He shook off the feeling and petted the flank of the large raptor – the largest that had ever been bred in this corner of Alon. Most stood only a few feet tall.

Claw stood nearly six. Sharp talons clicked the ground impatiently.

“There you are, old boy.” Grunt petted the striped head and hoisted himself into the saddle. He took the reins in one hand and his sword in the other. “To Rift, now!” The raptor leapt forward and began the sprint to the city.

A short path and small village separated the raptor kennels from the Span.

Rising up before him, wyverns swooped in and out of the columns of smoke. “Hurry, Claw! Hyah!”

The raptor sped forward. Grunt crested the hill that looked down on this side of the Span. In the distance, he could hear the faint screams, and even saw a body falling into the canyon as a wyvern plucked up people from Rift and tossed them into the ravine. Disgusted, he spurred the raptor forward.

A wyvern had tangled itself the support cables of the bridge. Being old and still made of rope the cables snapped, one-by-one. From the hillside overlooking the village, he watched as a single body plummeted into the mist.

Oh, let that be a speedy death! He clucked at the raptor, and it sped downward into the village.

Survivors fled by on all sides. A wyvern descended into the village, spraying venom here and here. Grunt dropped the reins and hoisted his shield. Claw shrieked as the acid venom touched his scales. Choking vapor filled the air as the acid bubbled across the shield’s face.

“It’s times like this I wish I had something other than this sword.” Grunt griped, hoisting his bulk off of Claw’s back so the raptor could fight more easily. Grunt pressed a small button on the back of the shield and listened as it came to life. It was more than just a hunk of metal – it was a shield that actually used technology to protect itself. Already the shield’s computing circuits were analyzing the acid and neutralizing it so as to prevent damage to the shield itself.

“I just wish you were special.” He said to his sword.

The wyvern, its beady head curiously small compared to its long, serpentine neck, began to clumsily make its way toward the large orc. Grunt twirled his sword and prepared. Already, Claw began to make his way around to the other side. The wyvern struck out at the raptor, hissing a challenge. Claw, not to be outdone, barked back, baring teeth.

The wyvern gave a warning hiss at the raptor and spat venom, which the former easily dodged. The raptor was now working around toward the back of the dragon-like reptile.

Grunt rushed in for a blow. The wyvern noticed the sudden movement, and quickly splashed the area with its acidic venom. The orc deflected most of it with his shield, ignoring the hissing and the pain as some leeched into his boot. He’d survive. He had in the past.

Claw rushed in for a strike, and managed to score a deep cut in the flank of the wyvern before it

could respond. Its attention diverted, Grunt darted in as well, slashing a deep line across its chest. Acidic blood poured out and hissed and bubbled on the ground. Noxious, toxic fumes filled the air.

Grunt choked and fell back. Claw, not bothered by the strange smells or the acid, struck again, severing a bundle of muscles that connected to the wyvern’s back leg. The creature buckled and fell sideways, releasing a pathetic cry of pain. It seemed unsure of why the pain had been inflicted. Its head swept around and struck at Claw.

The raptor snapped at the neck and missed.

Choking against the fumes, Grunt rushed forward and brought his sword slashing down on the beast with a flashing arc. The beast turned just in time, and the blade struck a glancing blow against the side of the serpentine neck.

Another cry of pain. Another jet of noxious gas and pool of poison blood. Fighting a dying wyvern was almost as dangerous as a fully-alive one. At least you could breathe around a healthy one.

Grunt fell back, the gas burning in his lungs. He retched and tried to stabilize himself. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but he couldn’t fight if he couldn’t breathe.

Claw struck again, this time lunging up onto the back of the wyvern and sinking claw and fang into the back and spine of the beast. Something snapped, and the beast toppled over, using its tiny black claws and one remaining hind-foot to strike at the raptor. It almost seemed to hope that, by rolling, it would be able to crush Claw underneath it.

It would have succeeded, too, had the raptor not climbed its way onto the creature’s upturned belly. The snake-like head struck down, but Claw was ready. He snatched the neck in his powerful jaws and caught the tiny head deftly in his long-fingered hands. With almost malicious force, the raptor closed a single hand around the puny head and wrenched his jaws violently to the side.

With a loud snap, the body fell limp. Claw wrenched the head off for good measure, allowing the poison blood to splatter across the small village square, and then dismounted the corpse. Blood and acid mingled, and Grunt choked against the noxious fumes that vented up from the village. He lightly petted the raptor on the snout. “Good boy. Way to show me up. Let’s go.”

The two made their way to the Span. “If anyone was on that… they’re dead now.”

Across the chasm, the flames of Rift rose into the atmosphere. “What happened here?”

Then, by chance, he happened to look down. A bleeding form was dragging itself up from the raging waters that were, even now, cascading over the falls. He rushed down the shore, stormed down the dock and plucked the half-drowned elf from the water. As gently as he could, he pulled her up and draped her across the back of Claw. She was half-awake, yet even in the panicked, half-drowned state

had the sense to hold on.

There must be more survivors. Claw gave a screech. Grunt looked down into the water. Claw sensed something. There! Floating up against the dock was another elf. What was happening upstream? Was Alon burning, too? The elf’s blonde hair was caked with blood, and he was unconscious, perhaps dead.

Grunt grasped the body and hauled it out of the river. He dropped the elf on the dock and examined him. The young form still had a pulse, but had lost a lot of blood from a blow to the head. The orc hoisted the body, took one last look at the blazing city of Rift, and motioned to Claw to follow.

The four made their way back to the pens. Claw’s smaller brothers were clearly agitated, and squawked and shrieked like flustered birds. One lunged up onto the railing and hissed. Grunt shooed him away.

A small cot had been set up in the shadows of the trees. On the cot lay the elf-maid, back exposed. Grunt tried carefully to remove the fragments of wood that had lodged themselves in her. He was as gentle as he could be, but he was used to working with technology, and large implements such as plows. He was no doctor. Surely, his time in the military had given him at least a modicum of skill in the area, but he considered his hands much too large for the delicate working of a needle or bandages.

The other elf had awoken several minutes earlier, and had proceeded to stagger around, half-dazed, uttering what Grunt could only assume was the elf-maid’s name “Anneliese… Anneliese…” over and over. The elf appeared to be truly bereft, as tears swept down his cheeks.

With a few clicks and a whistle, Grunt commanded Claw to keep an eye on the delusional elf. The last thing he needed now as a deeply injured elf drawing unneeded attention to them. Not now, at least.

As he bandaged the young maid, Grunt couldn’t help but think of Rift. How many had made it out? What had happened to Cici? Had she made it back from the forest in the first place? How long had he been gone? Every question led to more confusion, but he pursued them anyway, if only to keep the cursed itching from rising to the surface.

The elf-maid stirred and groaned. He stepped back and snapped his fingers. Orcs and elves had been… well, if not friendly, at least friendish… with each other for many years now, but he suspected after all the trauma she’d been through, the last thing she wanted to see stooping over her scarred back was a large orc.

Claw nudged the other elf over toward the maid. The elf staggered, confused at the presence of the raptor, as if this were the first time he’d even noticed the beast. He stumbled a few feet before understanding the raptor’s silent commands. He followed the creature’s gaze.

Grunt put a comforting arm around the elf and gave him a gentle push toward the maid.

Janus

6:15 PM

The world was dizzy and confusing. His head hurt, his leg hurt, his back hurt. He was pretty sure a rib was broken, and it hurt to even breathe – to even think! All he could do was pray Anneliese was safe. Staggering through the haze, Janus felt something prod him in the rib. He winced it pain, yet it was slightly sobering. He noticed a large raptor staring at him. His blood ran cold.

The creature jerked his head.

It was trying to communicate!

It nudged him again.

A large hand fell on his shoulder. The orc was steering him somewhere. He woke from his revelry. Anneliese was lying, facedown, on a cot. The back of her shirt had been ripped open, and she was slowly stirring. Janus quickly swept his own jacket off and rushed toward her, ignoring the splitting pain in his head that protested the deed.

“Easy… easy” he slurred, trying to clear the fogginess out of head. He draped the jacket around her. She groaned and tried to sit up. She was shivering from cold and probably fear. Her bedraggled hair hung limply against her face. She tried to push it away, but moaned again.

Janus noticed her hands. They were raw and bloody. His heart welled up in pity, and he sat beside her, wrapping his arms around her. He half-expected her to withdraw, but she leaned into his embrace and gave a light sob. He squeezed her tightly to him.

The orc shifted nervously. “We can’t stay here much longer. When those things across the canyon finally finish whatever they’re doing – they’re coming over here. And I don’t want to be here when they arrive.”

Janus nodded, only half understanding what was happening. All he knew was Anneliese was alive. He didn’t care about anything else now. The orc stepped around the table, then exchanged a glance with the raptor. Could they actually communicate?

The two seemed to have a wordless conversation, then the orc returned. “We need to find a place to camp for the night. Come with me. There’s a village in the valley a short distance away. We’ll be safe enough there. We need to hurry. You both need to dry out or you’ll catch you deaths of cold.”

Janus helped Anneliese to her feet. The orc proffered his mount, and Anneliese gratefully

accepted. The elf helped her onto the raptor’s back. Dizzy and still somewhat dazed, she gripped the reins and cried out in pain.

The orc whisked his own gloves off and handed them up to the elf. “Take these,” he said. “They’ll lessen the pain.”

She accepted them with a weak smile. Janus staggered weakly.

“Are you all right, young elf?” asked the orc.

Janus nodded unconvincingly.

“Here.” The orc offered his arm. The elf leaned against it.

“Thank you.”

The orc nodded. “Whatever differences we have, they can’t hold up in the face of that.” He jerked his head toward the flickering flames in the distance.

Darkness had moved over the land by the time they reached the first village. To call it a village was quite an exaggeration. The ferry-post outside of the village of Alon was more of a village than this was. As the orc observed, it had exactly one main building – “an inn and a tavern” - and two outbuildings – “one for using the facilities and the other for housing the chickens.”

They were welcomed in by a couple fearstricken old humans, who showed them to a room – Janus and Anneliese in one and the orc in another – and gave them some food. Janus would have offered payment, but he was pretty sure all his money was now somewhere at the bottom of the falls. The orc paid, handing a little extra so the raptor could be wiped down and fed.

That was the last the elves saw of the orc that night. After thanking him for all his help, Janus escorted Anneliese to their chamber. In elven fashion, he would stay as near her as possible. In this case, he would sleep on the floor. They entered the room and Anneliese smiled. “Look… they left us clothes.”

Janus wondered silently if that was also so generously provided because of the coin of the orc, but he kept his mouth shut. He helped Anneliese over to the bathroom. She smiled and limped into it, shutting the door slowly behind her.

The young elf stepped away from the door and leaned against a chair. He slid out of his remaining boot and tugged off his socks. One had become riddled with tears from the hike down the canyon. He pulled off his soiled pants and hung them to dry, repeating the process with his shirt. He turned and faced the mirror, wearing only his undergarments. A large gash from shoulder to navel. Already it was becoming the sickening purplish-red bruise of a new wound.

He rolled his shoulder, listening to the popping of his stiff joints. Another cut ran down his arm.

Apparently the branches had gotten him good. He touched it gingerly, wincing at the pain. He delicately ran his fingers over his side and groaned. His rib, if it wasn’t broken, was definitely bruised. It hurt to even breathe. He plucked a ratty towel from the side of the bed and tried to wipe himself down as much as possible. He slid out of the rest of his clothes and wrapped the towel around himself for modesty.

He lowered himself gingerly into the chair and promptly fell asleep.

Grunt

8:30 PM

Unsure as to the nature of the two elves, Grunt decided the best course of action would be to just give them their own room. He honestly didn’t really care how they knew each other. He knew the young male would take care of the maid far better than he, an orc, could. So he had paid off the inn-keepers with more money than they typically made in a month – which had instantly earned him their own personal room. A few extra coins bought changes of clothes and an extra towel.

Grunt pushed open the door to his room. He was trying to feel optimistic, yet the only nice word he could say about it was that it was “cozy.” He had just about enough room to walk into the small cell, turn sideways, and flop onto the bed – which, as it turned out, was made of straw with a thin sheet draped over it.

The straw creaked noisily under him, and a strange musty smell met his nostrils. He frowned. How many mice are under me at this moment? He wondered. His thoughts drifted to Cici. Where had she gone? Was she still alive?

He had to admit, part of the reason he had taken the elves this route was to check in the canyon for any sign of her. A long-standing agreement existed between the two that if ever there was trouble – meet in the canyon. They had plotted out the location, set up a little house (of sorts), and had even stocked some emergency supplies. It was the perfect location – perfectly suited to the two of them.

If he knew Cici, she’d be trying to make her way there. If she still lived.

He didn’t want to think about that, and so put it out of his mind. She was alive. She was too stubborn to be killed by something as stupid as a city being burned to the ground.

He smiled. He could see her now, kicking a wyvern in the shin, smacking a ghoul off a bridge, shouting obscenities and insulting every family member they had while she did so. With that image of his precious adopted daughter firmly planted, he drifted off to sleep for the evening.

Anneliese

9:00 PM

Nothing was pleasant that night. Anneliese showered quickly and changed into the clean clothes. Her old ones were shredded and blood-stained. She winced as she wrapped her hands. The cable had ripped them raw. With what energy she could spare, she whisked a comb through her hair, then stumbled her way to the bed.

Janus had already fallen asleep. His angry purple wounds looked incredibly painful. Her heart went out to him. The towel he had wrapped around himself was stained with blood.

Is he still bleeding?

She felt a thrill of love for the young elf. She couldn’t place how she knew it, but something told her that he had fought tooth and nail to protect her today. She felt stupid. If she hadn’t insisted on this trip to the canyon, they wouldn’t have gotten into any of this mess. She sat on the bed and stiffly swung her legs around. She was asleep almost before she had slid them under the blankets.

Cici

5:45 PM

Cici could feel the sharp claws digging into her shoulders. The wyvern had somehow broken itself free from the plummeting bridge. Seeing her clinging to the debris, it had thought an easy meal and had snatched her up in its sharp claws. Now, it was flying to the opposite end of the bridge to eat its meal in peace before returning to the carnage now befalling Rift.

The snake-like head swept around and took in the sight of the young girl draped by her arms above the chasm. It took a test bite at her. She kicked back, and the head jerked, then hissed. Acid dribbled from its mouth.

Apparently the wyvern’s nest was nowhere nearby, for it dropped her away from the village and was about to make a meal of her when its head suddenly reared up. Something had entered its domain. It seemed to forget about her and flapped up into the air, heading for the village center.

Not waiting to see what had disturbed the wyvern so deeply, Cici darted away, into the forest.

The bloody sounds of conflict between the wyvern and she-could-only-guess tore through the

air. She didn’t bother to look back – she ran.

About seven, according to her wrick, she found herself somewhere down the canyon. Grunt and she had agreed to meet there if ever something happened to their home. Strange as it seemed, she wondered if maybe Grunt had somehow survived. If he did, then he’d be heading there, too. But she was hurting, and probably still bleeding from the gashes in her back. She had managed to stitch up some of the large tears across the back her shirt, and had managed to “procure” a jacket along the way from a clothes line. But she couldn’t keep up like this all night.

Down the canyon a short distance was an inn, if she remembered correctly. It was called the “Hovel Inn,” an apparent play on words for how you’d feel if you tried to walk down the endless switchbacks that led into the lower forests. It was a single building, with an outbuilding for a bathroom and another full of chickens.

She entered the inn, passing the rickety metal sign. It swung back and forth in the wind. From here, looking up the canyon, she saw no sign of the destruction that had befallen Rift. All seemed peaceful, ironically. She wondered how long it would be before the invaders began to purge this side of the river.

She entered the inn and managed to procure a room. Apparently they were completely empty tonight. No travelers at all. That was strange. The inn-keeper handed her a mug of warm cider, which she took gratefully and drained in a single pull.

“Rough day?”

She nodded and slid the mug back across the counter. “You have no idea…” She slid the few mynx she had across the counter and made her way to the bathroom. It was everything she’d imagined it would be. It was small, with a single, dirty sink and two grungy toilets.

“Nice.” She muttered. “No stalls, either? That’s classy.”

She removed her jacket and pulled up the back of her shirt in the mirror. The cuts were gruesome-looking, but neither seemed too deep. She cleaned the wounds the best she could, then wrapped them. She then made her way to her room.

It was a small affair, with old straw and what appeared to be an even older sheet covering it.

“Guess people these days still like it rustic.” She shook her head in disgust. “If this doesn’t get my back infected, I guess nothing will.”

Day 2

Grunt: 5:50 AM

No sunlight had reached this low in the canyon, but Grunt woke as if it had. He stretched, accidentally punched the wall next to him, and struggled upright.

“Hey! Quiet down over there!”

A frustrated female voice rang out from the other side of the wall.

“Sorry.” Grunt muttered. He staggered upright, fumbled for his sword and shield, and squeezed himself out of his room. The door swung loosely, and as he tried to close it, he nearly dropped his weapon. As he scrambled for the sword, his foot accidentally connected with the wall again. The whole building seemed to shake, and he dropped the sword.

It clattered to the floor with a raucous bang. He bent to pick it up, but caught the wall again. The whole floor shook again as the large orc maneuvered himself.

“Are you ricking kidding me!” cried the girl next door. She burst out of the room. “I’m telling you, if you’re drunk, I’m going to kick your fairy marlon down the ricking stairs!”

Grunt rose to full height. He was now perfectly coordinated. He expertly deposited his sword across his broad back and secured the shield behind it. He then slowly, ominously turned. “I thought I recognized your potty mouth.”

The girl froze.

Grunt continued to turn, his stern gaze softening as he looked down at the dearest person in the world to him.

Cici’s eyes bulged, and her hands immediately flew to her mouth. “G-grunt! Y-you were dead!” Tears shimmered. “You stupid orc! Y-you were dead!”

“Greatly exaggerated, I’m sure.” He replied, gently. He opened his arm as wide as he could in the narrow hallway, and she launched herself into him. He smiled and carefully embraced her.

She winced slightly when his hand brushed her back. “Are you hurt?”

“Only by you!” She pulled away with startling ferocity. “Where were you?”

Grunt sighed inside. Well, it was a nice reunion while it lasted. She beat her small fists against his chest in anger.

“Where did you go?” She repeated. Angry sobs racked her. “You left me! You abandoned me to all of … all of that!”

Grunt nodded. He had no words. He pulled her close. She beat feebly against him. “Where were you? I needed you. She buried her face in his shirt and cried.

A door opened slowly behind him. The elf maid popped her head out. “Are you all right?” She asked, a look of concern on her face.

Grunt nodded silently. The door shut, leaving him and Cici alone in the narrow hallway. She still beat on him feebly. “I needed you. You weren’t there.”

Grunt remembered back, several years earlier, when the dragons had razed her home. They had come, dark and silent against the night sky, and had strafed the buildings. It had been a poor village, out near the frontier. Help couldn’t even arrive before the last building had collapsed in on itself.

Somehow, she had survived. She was young then – seven, maybe nine – and Grunt had found her scrabbling at the corpse of her father, trying to wake him. She had repeated a similar thing then. Her small hands, clutching at the charred body of her father; her voice, small and pathetic, mewling like a lost kitten. “Daddy? Daddy? Wake up, I need you. Daddy!” She had begun to throw a tantrum, shaking the body more vigorously, as if that would wake her father.

It was there that Grunt had found her. He had been a long-time friend of her father’s, but had been away from the village for a long time. He had never met the little girl before then. But, looking down at the body, he was able to make the connection almost immediately. He remembered gently scooping the child in his arms and telling her that everything was fine, that they were going on a little trip. It took her a few years to realize exactly what had happened.

That revelation had come following the nightmares.

For the first few years following the attack, she seemed happily ignorant of the horrendous trauma that had birthed her into his family. But that had come to a screeching end when, one night, her piercing cry tore through the house.

Grunt was up instantly, armed with a small pistol he kept near the bed for just such emergencies. He rushed to her bedroom and found her sitting up, shrieking, covered in sweat and tears. He had wrapped her in a hug and rocked her that night. But she couldn’t be consoled.

She had eventually screamed herself into sleep, but the nightmares came night after night. Night after night, Grunt held her close and tried to comfort her. Night after night saw a repeat. She would wake and scream; Grunt would try to comfort; she would pass out from exhaustion.

She began to sleep during the day, and Grunt began to teach her things at night – hunting, tracking, fishing – to keep her mind off the nightmares.

Several months into the ordeal, she finally asked. “How did I come to be with you?”

Grunt had told her, as gently as he could, the story of her village’s destruction. She had taken it all quietly. “Where were you?” She had asked.

Grunt had taken a deep breath and explained. “Your father and I hadn’t seen each other for years.”

“But… but you said you’d always be there for each other!”

Grunt had nodded. “Yes, we had.”

“And you weren’t there!”

How to make a child understand his responsibilities? Grunt had shrugged. “I had no idea what was happening. It was a coincidence that I even showed up when I did.”

She had struck him for the first time then. “When he-when we needed you most, you were gone!”

She couldn’t understand that he lived hours away – that he had ridden by shuttle and by raptor for hours to even come for the visit. She couldn’t comprehend all he had done. To her… it was simple. He had failed them.

The nightmares had gone away soon after. Their lives went back to the normal routine, and Cici even took up a position at Grunt’s blacksmith shop, as a sort-of receptionist (when she wasn’t behaving like a brat).

Grunt felt a weak fist thump him in the chest. “Why weren’t you there for me?”

The orc let a single tear drop from his cheek before turning his head toward the ceiling, as if he could drain the tears back into eyes. She would never understand. He had always been there for her.

The girl stopped hitting him, and he felt her squeeze him tightly. He squeezed her back.

Anneliese

The elf listened to the conversation in the hallway. Apparently the orc had met someone he knew. She hadn’t known orcs to be so tender – she had always thought of them as warpack-leading brutes. She remembered, in her younger days, seeing bands of them, riding motorcycles or other vehicles, causing trouble in the slums. She could still smell the tobacco and other foul odors reeking off their bodies.

She didn’t consider herself racist – she thought she had learned to accept all races on their merits. She just hesitated at the sight of an orc. In fact, the previous evening would have been considerably more traumatic had she been mostly conscious during the whole debacle. It wasn’t until she reached the hotel that she fully realized the implications of her rescue. And now, thinking over this room, she realized just what the orc had done for them.

Janus was slowly stirring. He looked down with a gasp. He was still dressed in a towel. It was

more modest than his underwear would have been, but he still blushed and dashed to the bathroom, clutching his new clothes desperately against himself as he did.

“Aww…” she muttered quietly. “He’s shy.”

She removed the gauze from her hands and gave them a practice squeeze. Several scabs opened on her palms. “Well, this is going to get old really fast.” She wrapped her hands in new bandages and began to straighten up the room. Janus’s old clothes lay here and there in half-dried heaps. His pants were draped on a hanger by the wall. His shirt had fallen to the floor, where it had dried in a stiff heap. Other unmentionables were here and there.

She gathered them up and placed them into a small sack she found underneath the bed. It seemed cleanish, and would do the trick. She thought about the events of the day before. Absently, her hand went to her back, where the raft had struck her. No lasting damage had been done – it was really just a good scrape. Nonetheless, it still stung when she moved, and she could feel the wound sticking to the rough fabric of her shirt.

The innkeeper hadn’t spared much expense with these clothes. But they were coverings – they’d do.

She fiddled with the button on the front of her shirt. Apparently this was a man’s shirt in this country. The fabric seemed to be some sort of rough burlap consistency, perhaps flannel. With the decorations and the clothing, she wondered if the owners of the inn had updated anything other than plumbing in the last hundred years. While people living only a few miles away were wearing woven textiles and sleeping in plush down-comforter-covered beds, the people down here were sleeping on the equivalent of straw and wearing rough burlap fibers.

Was there really a disparagement in wealth of that degree? Or did the owners like it this way?

Janus exited the bathroom. He was dressed in almost the same clothing as Anneliese – a button-up green-and-brown plaid shirt, light brown trousers, and old, thin-soled boots.

“Better than nothing, I suppose.” He said, mirroring Anneliese’s sentiments exactly.

She smiled. “We’re twins.”

Janus scowled.

“Oh, lighten up. Of course we’re not twins. I look far better than you do.”

They exited the room. The orc and other person had left the hallway. Anneliese peered in the other two rooms on this floor – they were empty, and considerably worse than the one they had slept in the previous night. The two elves limped their way downstairs and found the two other companions leaning over the bar, one drinking water while the other sipped what appeared to be cider. Two mugs

had been set nearby, and steam rose from both.

“Warm cinnamon cider.” Stated the orc, sliding the mugs toward the two elves.

Janus bowed in thanks. “Thanks for saving us, and all this kindness. My name is Janus, and this is my friend Anneliese.”

“Charmed,” replied the orc, seizing Janus’s hand in a titan grip. The orc bowed formally to the elf maiden. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He rose to full, intimidating height. “My name’s Grunt. This imp’s name is Patience.”

The girl went rigid. “You didn’t…”

A mischievous glint shone in the orc’s eye. “Pretty much everyone calls her Cici.”

“I’ll kill you if you ever call me that.”

The orc shrugged. “I’d listen to her. Well, she doesn’t have a weapon right now, so you might as well take advantage. Isn’t that right, Patience?”

The girl spun and brandished a small butterknife. The orc feigned fear and plucked the small knife from her hand and smoothly buried it in the bar counter. He leaned forward, his gaze just inches away from her face. “You were saying?”

Anneliese chuckled at the two. It was clear there was great love between the two in spite of, or perhaps because of the banter.

“Pleased to meet the two of you. Thank you again for all your help.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what were you doing in the river?”

Janus shrugged. “Memory’s a little foggy, to be honest.” He gave the wound on the back of his head a ginger pat. “Apparently I took quite a blow to the head.”

Anneliese took his hand. By the look on his face, it was clearly the last thing he expected. “We were attacked at a ferry stop. I lost control of my raft and we both ended up washing downstream. I tried to dive for the cable.” She held up her hands. “I was successful, at least. I don’t know what happened to Janus. I thought he was dead until I woke up on that cot.”

Grunt nodded. “Your friend was floating against one of the docks. Can’t say I know what happened to him either.”

“What about you two?” Anneliese asked.

Grunt shrugged. “Honestly, last thing I remember was collapsing in a forest. The next thing I remember, I was lying next to the raptor kennels.”

He looked down at Cici. “I was in Rift.”

Anneliese’s face obviously showed great shock. “How did you survive?”

“Easy. I ran for my life while everyone died.” She gave a scathing glance at the orc, who returned her gaze with steely eyes.

“How’d you make it across the bridge in time?”

“Yah, about that. I didn’t.” the girl replied. “Thankfully, a wyvern tried to have me for dinner. Otherwise, I’d be lying at the bottom of the canyon. Well, or smashed against the wall. Long bridge – quite the acceleration when it fell.”

Anneliese nodded. She’d seen the bridge drop. No one could have survived that, even clinging to the planks. The speed at which the sides of the bridge would have smashed into the canyon wall would have crushed anyone crazy enough to go along for the ride. She wondered if anyone else had been on the bridge.

“And then what?”

Cici shrugged. “I hiked down here. This big oaf crashed up a ruckus this morning. If he’d been anyone else, I would’ve shoved his fairy marlon down the –“

“—ricking stairs.” Finished Grunt. “Yes, I’ve heard that oh… twenty times too many. You really need to come up with something more original.”

“Well, it’s true. If you weren’t you, I would’ve shoved you down the stairs so hard this inn would’ve had a basement.”

Grunt gave an apologetic shrug. “She has temper issues. But she’s human, what can you expect? They’re so small and weak – you can’t blame them for being angry all the time.”

“Weak?” she slugged him in the arm.

Anneliese saw the orc absorb the blow with a smile. The dark-haired girl fought back a groan and shook her fist as subtly as she could.

“Drafty in here, isn’t it?” muttered the orc, his eye meeting Anneliese’s. He winked. Anneliese laughed.

The inn-keeper seemed eager to see them go, something about wanting his room back. He had provided all that Grunt had requested, and the orc saw to it that he and his wife were duly rewarded. He plopped a bag of coins on the table. “Complete payment, in mynx. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“And thank ye for your kind patronage, young sir.” The bag vanished from the counter. As they

left the inn, Anneliese noticed the man trying futilely to pry the butter knife from the bar counter.

The orc led them to a small lean-to which acted as the inn’s stable. A beautiful, tall raptor stretched its neck and honked at Grunt.

“Did ya miss me, ol’ boy?” cooed the orc, rubbing the striped muzzle of the beast. “Were you fed enough last night?”

Anneliese looked down. By the scattered feathers, she imagined the inn-keeper would be quite disappointed as to how much the raptor had eaten the previous evening.

“It’d never do to have a lady walk…” began the orc. Cici stepped forward, clearly anticipating what he was about to say, “… so Claw, you’ll be taking Anneliese.” Cici paused, a look of shocked anger on her face.

Grunt laughed and pretended to cringe. “It’s a joke, my dear. Ladies, the beast is more than strong enough to carry both of you. Well, actually Cici… I’m not sure.”

“I’m going to hit you. I swear it.”

Anneliese laughed again. It felt good to laugh. It was calming. She stole a glance at Janus. The elf seemed so forlorn, yet something in his eye sparkled when their eyes met. There was a tired hope, a patient endurance. The edge of his mouth rose a little bit.

Grunt helped the girls onto Claw’s back. “Good thing that saddle’s designed for me. Fits both of you perfectly.”

“You mean, good thing the elf girls aren’t nearly as all hips as us humans.”

Grunt shrugged. “Compared to me? You’re both hipless.”

Cici stuck her tongue out at the orc. He didn’t seem to notice.

“So where should we head now?” asked Anneliese. “The two of you are reunited. Are we continuing on?”

Grunt looked up into the foliage. The smell of burning was still heavy, and the smoke had begun to settle even down here, partway down the canyon. “I just have to see it. It’s almost as if I won’t believe it unless I see it with my own eyes.”

“See what? The city? It’s totally gone, Grunt. I watched it burn. You saw those fires. Nothing survived that!” exclaimed Cici. “Something leveled our house by itself. Do you think they left anything standing?”

“What about the defenses? Surely the city could’ve fought back” replied Janus. “We were all caught off-guard. Surely there was something!”

Cici shook her head. “I reported the ghoul, and I’m pretty sure most of the city’s automated defenses were out patrolling those woods. I don’t know what kind of standing police force you expect us to have – everything’s automated. At least, defense-wise it is.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t even have a militia, or anything?” Anneliese asked. Even in the city, with all its sprawling mechanization, there were still people patrolling the streets and standing guard at various checkpoints. And there were radar towers and all sorts of defenses. “Surely Rift had something.”

Cici shook her head. “No. Nothing. We have a cloud of automated drones that analyze and neutralize threats. That’s it. The City Council shut down the last living police force years ago.”

Janus shook his head. “Let me get this straight – the city of complete mechanization still has a bridge made of rope connecting itself with the only land route to Caphon? How did that make sense.”

Grunt snorted.

“Don’t get him started. He’s been on the Council’s back about it for years. They refused to listen.”

“And see where it’s gotten us. ‘Historical landmark’ and all that crap.” Spat Grunt. “I told them. Over and over, I warned them. The only concession they gave me was the bi-annual inspections. World of good that did!”

“So they were unwilling to update the bridge over historical concerns?” Anneliese summarized, clearly not believing her ears. “the very economy and safety of the city, trumped for a historical marker?”

“Apparently a two-hundred year old bridge was a bigger deal than steel cables. I even asked them to just coat the wires to make them look like ropes.”

Janus brought the conversation back around. “What will the drones do now? The cities in shambles.”

Cici shrugged. “They have a limited battery life. Most had probably returned to the city anyway before the attack began – but since they were charging, they couldn’t be any help, anyway. Most of them were probably destroyed in the attack. The others… I can only imagine, but they’re probably trying to put up a fight.”

Grunt looked up the trail. “We’ll see the destruction, then we need to get on to Caphon.”

“Grunt! See reason. The city’s gone. We couldn’t get across to it if we wanted to, anyway. The

bridge collapsed, remember? Besides, the mountain road will be the first route the creatures take. You don’t think they’re just going to stick in Rift and leave everyone else alone, do you?”

Janus blanched.

“What’s wrong?” asked Anneliese.

“Alon.”

“What about it?” slowly, the reality began to dawn on her, too. She gasped, her hand shooting to her mouth. “The summit. They’re coming for it.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Cici.

“I’m an ambassador from Caphon. My father’s the ruler there. Janus is the son of the ruler of Alon. We were part of a coalition trying to bring all the tribes together. The summit was to be held today or tomorrow – whenever all the elven leaders could arrive. We had gone out for an afternoon to see the canyon when we were attacked. If the enemy struck Rift, where do you think they’d go next?”

Grunt nodded. “Up the river or up the road. Both lead to Alon.”

Janus sank against the side of the raptor. Claw looked at him quizzically. “Father…”

“Then we have to go back. We have to warn Alon.”

Cici sputtered. “Why can’t any of you see reason? Rift has fallen, and Alon will fall as well. There’s nothing we can do about. We have got to get to Caphon and warn them before the enemy’s done razing the lands of Alon.”

Anneliese felt Janus’s pain. The elf’s memory had failed him, and he was defenseless. Now, in his damaged mind, it seemed to her that he was trying to find some reason – some logic – that would contradict what the young human had just said. His mouth opened and closed. He blinked several times. All he could manage to speak was “Please, we must… warn them.”

Grunt was busy staring up into the canopy, as if he could sense or see something they couldn’t.

“Let’s go a little farther down the trail. It crosses back, and I think we can see the falls.”

“This isn’t time for sight-seeing, Grunt.”

“For once, Cici, hold your tongue. This is serious. We’ll see Rift from there.”

Janus had to be prodded along. Anneliese soon found herself dismounting and walking hand in hand with the shell-shocked elf. She whispered softly to him. “It’ll be okay. We’ll find a way to rescue them.” Deep in her heart, she knew she was lying.

They made their way down the trail until the forest opened. The smell of smoke was thick down here. Apparently, in all the chaos, parts of the jungle had caught fire. They rounded the corner and the beauty of the canyon stretched out for miles before them. Bridaldeath Falls, shimmering like a shower of diamonds, cascaded hundreds of feet down into the valley below, where it became another river and wended its way off in the distance. The vegetation was lush down here.

“Well, that answers our question.”

Annelise looked upwards… past the still-smoldering remains of the Span, past the fragments of crushed buildings and bodies, up to where a thick haze marked the spot Rift had once stood. Sections of the city had been knocked into the river and had lodged themselves on the way down the falls.

Flames sputtered here and there, working to consume vehicles and rafts – even portions of the docks that had apparently been spanning more of the river before the elves had found themselves unceremoniously dropped against the cables. Grunt seemed to notice Anneliese gazing at the boat fragments.

“I didn’t mention it in the chaos, but yes, there was actually quite a fleet of boats and a bustling dock system. Apparently whoever attacked the city knew to take out the Span and the docks quickly. That prevented many from escaping. They didn’t seem to know about the cables, or else I imagine they would have tried to sever them as well.”

Anneliese prayed a prayer of thanks to whatever god had been watching out for her.

“What are we going to do then, Grunt?”

Grunt looked at Cici. “You’re right… going back up there now would only mean death. If they haven’t taken the other side of the river, they will soon. We’d be walking into a trap. Whoever’s in charge of that invasion made sure he got as many victims as possible. No doubt about it – the road is under their control, and Alon will fall next.”

Janus seemed to crumple inside his own skin.

Anneliese squeezed his hand. He looked up, a hollow, sallow look in his eyes. “All dead…” he muttered. “We should all be dead. Why do we get to live and they all die?”

Words stuck in her throat.

Grunt placed a comforting hand around Anneliese’s shoulder and let her a few steps away from the other elf. “They call it ‘survivor’s guilt.’”

“He’s done nothing wrong!”

“But he doesn’t feel that way. His people are about to die… and there’s nothing he can do about it. Right now, he feels like he’s betrayed them.”

Janus was wandering in a daze again. Anneliese wanted to go to him, but Grunt held him back. “Cautiously, young one… right now, his mind is trying to rationalize his putting his own survival above all the others, even though he knows there’s no way we’d reach them in time.”

“What can I do? I can’t just abandon him.”

“No, that’s not what I’m asking you to do. You need to take care of him. Don’t abandon him, not now. If you ever loved him, now’s the time to prove it.”

Did she love him? She frowned. She certainly liked him… as a friend, and maybe as the possibility of more. But love?

“Take care of him…” warned Grunt. “And keep an eye on him. We’ll be traveling constantly – we have miles to cover – and we can’t afford to have him slow us down… not if we’re going to reach Caphon in time. That army can’t possibly move as fast as we will – and they won’t take this route – they’ll have to march or fly over the mountains. And if they have beasts like you said they do… well, they’re not flying on those things – the beasts aren’t nearly strong enough to carry a passenger.” Grunt shuddered. “Either way, Alon doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Is there nothing we can do?”

Grunt looked up into the hazy remains of Rift. “Probably the most powerful city in the nation of Alon.” He muttered, referencing the ruins at the top of the cliffs, “and it was leveled in half a day. Unless something miraculous happens, the only thing slowing this army as it razes our nation will be the distance between its cities. But since the creatures control the roads, even that won’t be an impediment for long.”

“I’ll help him however I can.” Anneliese said. Her heart was heavy in her chest. She looked for Janus. He was gone. “Where did he go?” she asked Cici.

The girl simply pointed. Anneliese followed her gaze. Janus was a little ways down the trail, staring absently up at the flaming cliffside. A few cables of The Span slowly wavered back and forth in the wind. Dark forms seemed to be rising and falling, though from this distance, Anneliese couldn’t tell if it was her imagination, or if wyvern were still flying around the ruined city.

Why had Rift been targeted? Other than cutting off the land route, what did the attackers hope to gain? Caphon had shuttles – they didn’t need the Span. They didn’t even need the river. They could fly to Alon and all locations in between. Rift was powerful, yes… but it was more of a tourist attraction these days than anything. The land route was important, but not essential. So why attack it?

Janus was muttering to himself. Anneliese wrapped an arm around him and hugged him close. “We’ll make it through this.”

His muttering continued.

“Hush now, maybe help will find them. We don’t know. There’s just nothing we can do.” Almost instantly she knew what she had said was the wrong thing. Janus shoved her away with a ferocity that startled her.

“What do you know?” He snapped. “Of course there’s nothing we can do! You know how I know that? Because we’re not doing anything! We’re saving your people when we could be trying to save mine!”

Anneliese was stung. She gaped, trying to form words – trying to think of words.

“No, shut your mouth. You don’t know anything! All of this is your fault! If it weren’t for you and your stupid idea to come here, we’d be in Alon – we’d be fighting to protect my home! We’d --!”

“You’d be dying with the rest of them.” Came the deep voice from behind. Janus turned. Grunt was standing there, arms folded calmly across his chest, though his eyes sparked with a dangerous light. “Any fool can run to his death, boy. Don’t let your guilt kill you. Fell the pain, embrace the pain, and use it to fight back. But don’t leap to your death over it.”

“What do you know? Huh?”

That dangerous glint shimmered again, then changed into… a memory? Grunt simply pointed up to the cliff side. “Guess whose home that was… and guess who also can’t remember where they were or how they got there? Don’t think that was the first time I lost someone I loved. Do you find it the slightest oddity that I have a daughter who’s a human?”

He gestured to Cici. “Guess who died so I could adopt her. Her father, my closest friend. And guess who wasn’t there to save him? So don’t lecture me on loss, pup. There’s nothing we can do but try to rescue as many lives as we can.”

Janus quieted. He didn’t seem completely convinced, but the rebuke had calmed him a little.

Anneliese sat in stunned silence. Janus’s reaction had struck deeper than the physical blow. She was feeling something under the surface. A shattered trust. She stared up at Janus, whose eyes now seemed clearer. His mind seemed finally to be agreeing with the rest of him. A look of despair still crossed his features, but a bold determination was slowly fighting for dominance.

He attempted a smile and began to kneel at her side. He reached out his hand. “I’m sorry—“

“Don’t touch me!” she cried, her whole body bristling. She recoiled from his touch, as if every ounce of pain she’d felt over the past two days was suddenly going to spring from his hand and envelope her again. “Just don’t… touch me.” Tears streamed from her eyes. “I… I was only trying to help.”

“I know…” he said, soothingly. “And I overreacted. I’m sorry.”

“And you think that solves everything, do you?” She wiped a sleeve across her eyes. Now she

was humiliated. The tears came, though she protested against them.

Janus looked confused. She folded her arms protectively across herself.

Grunt

Just what the nature of the two elves’ relationship was, he couldn’t tell. At times, they seemed to be lovers; at others, siblings. Now, they argued like two hated enemies – or a married couple – he could make the case for both (or perhaps, he mused, he was simply repeating himself anyway). Despite their strife, he realized that if the group was going to make any semblance of a good time on this journey, they needed to head out and cover as much ground as possible during the daytime.

Anneliese was now climbing back onto the raptor with Cici. Apparently she had changed her mind about walking with Janus.

Grunt sighed deeply. The last thing he needed now was the drama of a relationship. They were in a race for their own and many others’ lives here, and he couldn’t afford having half his team weakened because of a fight. That being said, he did sympathize with the elf-maid. He had watched the other elf strike her, and had he not been in the habit of cultivating patience (by raising Cici), he probably would have shown the struggling elf the back of his hand. In his younger days, he certainly would have.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on such trivialities at this moment. He had to figure out a way across this canyon – and that wasn’t going to be a comfortable path. Every paved road and every powered house was now several hundred feet above them, on the edge of the canyon. The main road ran through the mountains, and wove in and out, along the northern rim. It wasn’t the most scenic route, he’d have to admit, but it did contain the most flat land, and thus was the only practical place to pave a road.

Down here, in the canyon, the only real paths were off-road-vehicle only. And Claw was a living embodiment of an off-road vehicle. There was no power, no plumbing, no paved streets, shopping plazas, or accoutrements of any kind. Grunt, his girl, and his elf friends were truly going to experience the joy of primitive living.

But first, they needed supplies. And those, Grunt knew, would be conveniently located in his and Cici’s hidden camp – just about half-a-day’s hike from their present location.

Anneliese

She rode behind Cici because she was stunned. She didn’t know what to do. Her mind raced, and her body ached, both physically and internally. She kept her hands tucked tightly around herself, as if she was at risk of still of being harmed. Part of her knew Janus hadn’t meant what he did, and tried to justify it. Part of her knew he had been sincere when he had apologized… but a larger part didn’t care at this moment.

She needed time. She needed to cool off.

The path through the canyon jungle was a long one. The hours dragged on, and the path became narrower and narrower. Ancient trees, some perhaps hundreds of years old, stretched above her, their vines brushing her face and sometimes causing her to duck.

Grunt marched stoically through the forest, his large sword still strapped across his back. The humidity was causing all of them to sweat profusely, and Grunt was already drenched through.

Anneliese turned to Cici. “How much longer is this path?”

The girl shrugged. “Not sure, really. We don’t usually take this path.”

The elf looked down at Grunt. Where was he taking them?

The daylight bled into the evening. As they rode, Anneliese and Cici struck up conversation. “What formed this canyon? Surely that river couldn’t have carved it.”

Cici shrugged. “Not sure. Most stories I’ve heard involve the dwarves – either they dredged out a smaller canyon into a colony, or they accidentally blew up their whole empire, collapsing this whole land. There are plenty of stories like that.”

“People think that the dwarves actually build an empire around here? I thought they were off in the West, in Erdun.”

Cici shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought they were guarding the Eastern mountains.”

Anneliese remembered Janus talking about a dwarven friend from the East. Maybe he’d know… no, she wasn’t going to talk to him.

“So it’s not natural?”

“Well, maybe originally it was… but it’s been greatly expanded.”

Anneliese looked around. “And the jungle?”

“Oh, it’s been here forever. Maybe the dwarves planted it, maybe someone else did. What about you… where are you from?”

“Oh, I’m from Caphon.” Anneliese replied.

“Which city?”

“Caphon.”

“Oh, gotcha. I always get confused by that.”

Anneliese nodded. “Pretty much everyone does. I hate that the city and the nation have the same name.”

“At least when I say I’m from Alon, I don’t have to say I’m also from Alon.”

They laughed. Anneliese’s eyes caught a pained look from Janus. She tried to fake another laugh, and nodded to Cici. “I guess times were simpler back then, and you could just name everything the same way. It’s strange, though, that both nations named themselves after the capital.”

“Alon might be finding a new one after this.” Replied Cici.

Grunt glared at her.

“What?” she asked. “It’s what happens. Why dance around it?”

The orc shook his head and kept walking. Janus seemed to wilt.

Grunt

The sun had begun to set by the time they reached the house. Years earlier, Grunt had built this plot, setting up everything he and Cici (who was suffering from the nightmares at that time) would need if they were to flee. Now that he was here, with the necessities of life, and a few comforts, he felt the overwhelming urge to quit the quest altogether and let the two quarreling elves go on their merry way. He had protected Cici and gotten her to a place of safety. In his mind, that was all that was required of him.

Grunt pushed aside a small panel that concealed a key. He retrieved it and opened the door. “Welcome to my vacation house.” He said, jokingly, pushing open the door for Cici.

Anneliese and Janus followed. As Janus passed, the orc latched onto his arm. “Let’s talk. The girls will be fine.”

Janus didn’t protest, and followed the orc a short distance away from the house, where a fallen log lay along a small trail. It led to a small pond. If Grunt remembered properly, there was a healthy stock of fish there.

Grunt pushed Janus onto the log and squatted in front of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. It’s none of your concern. I’ll take my leave in the morning.”

Grunt shook his head. “Not good enough. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Isn’t it clear? I mean, seriously? What more do I need to say? My people are going to die and you won’t let me go save them.”

“We won’t let you? How have we stopped you?”

Janus fell silent.

“You won’t let yourself.”

Janus made no reply.

“Well, what do you have to say? Who’s stopping you?”

“No one.”

Grunt nodded. “Exactly. And what’s happening between you and the girl? What’s your history?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“You’re staying in my house, your girl’s been riding on my raptor. You slept in that hotel on my mynx. Oh, and I saved your life. I think it’s plenty of my concern.”

“She’s not my girl.”

Grunt folded his arms and moved from a squatting position to kneeling. “How so?”

“She’s not my girl. What more can I say?”

“Explain yourself. I’ve watched the two of you. There’s something more to ‘she’s not my girl’ than those words.”

Janus fiddled with his hands. “She’s not my girl. She’s an ambassador to my people – an ambassador from Caphon. I was tasked with guarding her. That’s all.”

Grunt placed a hand on his shoulder. The elf cringed. “Then you’re sticking to that. You’re keeping her alive. I can’t worry about this drama. You understand?”

Janus nodded. Grunt rose to leave.

“Oh, and elf.”

Janus looked up. “Yes?”

“If you ever strike or so much shove a woman again in my presence, you will be going back with your people. Do you understand me?”

Cici

The two women watched from the window. Cici saw Janus bodily flinch under the hand of Grunt. She remembered seeing him have these conversations with people before. She had been the recipient of these conversations too many times to count.

“What are they talking about?”

Cici shrugged. “Let’s just say Grunt hates drama, and will crush it whenever he can. That, and if someone strikes a woman in his presence, he gets a little defensive.”

“And they say chivalry is dead.” Anneliese looked a little guilty. There was a small tear in the girl’s shirt-pocket from when Janus had shoved her away.

“You know he didn’t do it on purpose, right?” Cici asked, her elbows resting against the window-sill. “I mean, if everyone I knew were going to be killed and I had time to think about it – I’d probably be a little irrational.”

Anneliese nodded.

Cici chuckled. “I know it sounds morbid, but I’ve lost everyone I know twice now, and it’s past bothering me anymore.”

“How do you handle it?”

Cici shrugged and stepped away from the window. She settled herself into a rickety chair. “I guess I just realize that there’s nothing I can do about it. So, I just stop feeling.” She knew she was lying. She remembered how she had felt yesterday when it was clear that Grunt was gone for good. She managed a laugh. “No use crying over spilled blood.”

Anneliese

Dinner was sparse that night. Janus and Grunt had managed to catch a few fish from a nearby pond, and the orc had also brought back a few edible plants. Cici turned out to be a marvelous cook, given what limited supplies she had at her disposal.

After dinner, the girls settled in the bedrooms and Grunt and Janus took up positions on the floor in the main room. Since the whole cabin only had two rooms to begin with, there wasn’t much room anyway. Anneliese didn’t understand why Grunt hadn’t built an extra bedroom, since both he and Cici would be sharing the house if they ever had to move here.

Day 3

Janus

His mind was abuzz with confusion. He knew he had shoved Anneliese away, but he hadn’t meant any of it. He especially hadn’t meant to “strike” her, as it seemed Grunt and the others perceived it. He lay on the floor of the cabin, his mind racing, until, shortly after midnight, weariness overtook him, and he drifted into disturbed slumber.

In the nightmares that followed, he saw the plumes of smoke and fire billowing up like a gate to hell had opened under Alon. He saw large creatures scouring the land – overturning tables and dragging elven women, kicking and screaming, into the town square. The elf men, fighting with all the prodigious strength they could muster, were cut down one and all. Children, wrenched from their places at their dead parents’ sides, shrieked in terror as they were hauled to the center of town as well.

A blazing gazebo, now blackened and scorched, tottered precipitously. The glade leading to the long house was ablaze. Branches crashed to the ground, others exploded in the heat. In his dreamform, Janus saw dark-skinned creatures, walking in an odd, jerking gait, approach the women and children in the town square. Bodies of those that had tried to escape were being picked over by spider-like creatures at the edge of the forest’s smoldering border.

The women and children huddled together. As Janus watched, powerless, one of the dark-skinned commanders shouted a strange string of commands. The spider-like creatures spun about instantly and lunged violently on the shrieking crowd.

Janus forced himself to watch, though his stomach turned at the carnage. He had never seen such chaos or wanton bloodshed. Every living soul in the town was butchered. Bodies were dragged behind creatures, others eaten while they still lived. He felt like retching, but his dreamform couldn’t. He was forced to watch as house after house was cleared and burned.

Large, grey-skinned monstrosities with large clubs and sporting intimidating spikes down their spines lumbered around, randomly assaulting buildings.

Then came the wyvern swarms. A few elves had barricaded themselves in the corner of town, using spears and javelins to harry the invaders. Even the titanic monsters couldn’t get close enough. They seemed to be rallying when the dragons descended. Spewing acidic venom, their serpentine necks striking in and out rapidly, the wyverns made short work of the holdouts.

This was the fate that awaited his people – perhaps had already befallen them. Deep in his heart, Janus knew there was nothing he could do. Then for what reason was he spared?

Anneliese

Anneliese had experienced a similar dream – only it was her home city, not Janus’s that was put to the sword. Bodies floated in the canals, where strange, tentacled beasts rose up from the depths and dragged down any that were still living. The strange beasts then hauled themselves onto shore and began to wreak indiscriminate havoc on the unsuspecting citizens.

The resistance was strong. Flying shuttles, armed to the teeth, launched missiles into the invading forces. Flames erupted as miniguns opened up on the swarms of wyvern that came from the east. Ground troops rallied, launching all sorts of arms against the invaders. Large, grey-skinned titans, bedecked with rows of spikes down their backs and sporting sharp talons, raked into the defenders,

spraying blood and appendages in their awesome wake.

The same dark-blue-skinned creatures that Anneliese had seen in the forest led the charge as swarms of ghouls closed on the city.

Even though she was watching from some strange perspective, she thought she saw herself – decked in white armor, standing atop a building, a shining golden sword in her hand. In her other, she wielded a strange blade that seemed to shimmer as it cut through the air. Beside her, wearing strong silver armor, was Janus. His hair had come free, and cascaded around his shoulders. He bore a large glaive-weapon, with a golden haft and a green blade protruding from either side. The blades seemed to glow strangely as he cut down one spiderish creature after another.

What did this all mean? Were they going to save Caphon or not?

She smelled the acrid stench of burnt flesh, then woke to a thunderous explosion as the door to her room gave way under tremendous force.

Grunt

Caught off-guard! How on earth! Grunt staggered across the floor. The entire front of the house was ablaze. A stray burst of some sort of energy rifle had caught him across the shoulder. He threw his good shoulder into the bedroom door.

“Everyone! Up! Now!”

Cici staggered out of bed, knocking Anneliese out of hers as she did. The elf caught herself. “Janus!”

“He’s getting our stuff! Get out the back! Cici, the emergency supplies!”

“Right!” the dark-haired girl replied.

Another explosion rocked the front of the house, and the main room collapsed.

“What’s going on?” shrieked Anneliese over the din.

“They found us!”

Grunt slammed the door behind them, for what good it would do, and herded the two girls out the back door. He hoped Janus had listened properly. The orc had designed an emergency escape in the floor at the back of the cabin. It led to a small tunnel and then emptied out in the forest behind the house. If the elf hadn’t found the door as instructed – he was dead.

The house was ablaze, and Grunt looked up, seeing the signs of fire already licking the ceiling above him. Cici was still rummaging for supplies in the corner of the room. Anneliese had already run

ahead through the back door, and was making a run for the forest beyond.

Grunt cast a gaze between the two women. He grabbed Cici by the wrist.

“Ow! What?”

Before he could answer, he heard the crack of a beam overhead. The ceiling was giving way. He shoved Cici free of the house. “Go! Get to the fords!”

She tumbled out the doorway. “Dad!”

The ceiling collapsed before Grunt could move. He felt fire and pain. Then the world went dark.

Janus

The cabin was built over a small concrete tunnel. Janus found the entrance easily enough. Grunt practically threw him into it before slamming the door atop him. He tried to push it back up, but found that he had been locked in. He fumbled in the darkness the only direction he could.

Something clattered on the floor at his feet. He bent down, fumbling blindly toward the source of the noise. He heard a scream above him. It sounded like his name. He could hear explosions, and frantic shouts. His hand closed on the object.

It was a cylinder. His fingers fumbled up it until they met something. A button. He clicked it, and the tunnel filled with light. He swept the light around. There were glass-covered shelves down here, dozens of them. Several contained weapons. Janus used the butt end of his flashlight to shatter the glass of one and reached inside. He pulled out a shotgun and rummaged for ammo, hoping against hope he would find suitable ones. He’d never fired a gun before.

He plucked a satchel from the ground and began to fill it with any ammo he could find. He heard something heavy collapse overhead, and realized he was running out of time. Smoke was already starting to filter down through the plank ceiling.

He began to rush down the hallway. It slowly inclined upwards. He hoped that when he reappeared outside, he’d be in a safe area, and somewhere near the others.

Anneliese

Flames cast darting shadows against the distant trees. Anneliese felt herself being shoved out the door. She heard “run,” and was off. Her elven feet carried her to the forest swiftly and, in spite of her noble raising, she leapt onto the nearest tree and began to scramble rapidly into it. She hoisted her lithe form onto a low, thick branch and waited.

In the distance, the cabin was ablaze. Dark shapes swept in and out, and she was sure see could see something climbing across the roof. Glittering torches sparked in the distance, from the east.

A dreadful cry rose into the night. Claw rounded the cabin and rushed for Cici, who had just emerged from the back of the cabin. In her wake, a shower of sparks signaled the collapse of the building. Claw stooped his head and darted toward the girl. With a graceful jerk, he hoisted her off her feet and onto his back. She landed awkwardly and scrabbled for a bag she had been carrying. Anneliese dropped from the tree as they passed, and Cici paused.

“What happened? Where’s Grunt?”

Cici shook her head, her face a mask of pain.

“And Janus?”

Cici gave Anneliese her hand, and the girl climbed onto Claw. “Up here. If he’s still alive, he’ll be coming out up here.” She gasped.

Howls went up from the cabin. Cici swiveled around. “Claw, go! Hyup!”

The raptor obeyed, and the two girls vanished into the forest, the flames of terror dancing behind, rejoicing as over a kill.

Janus

Janus was running now. He knew he was no longer under the cabin, but at any point, the floor would give way and the creatures would begin to explore this tunnel. The tunnel was no longer smooth… it had become dirt. He could see roots protruding on either side, and the floor was slowly rising toward the ceiling. He soon found himself on his hands and knees. How on earth would Grunt have used this? If an elf could barely fit, how would an orc hope to move in here?

Behind him, fire-light began to flicker and the floor finally collapsed. A few distressed cries rang out. They had found the tunnel.

He shoved his way deeper in the hole.

There was a sudden rush of fresh air, and a sharp pair of teeth closed on the back of his shirt and hauled him bodily out the ground. He rounded on the thing with the shotgun and pulled the trigger. He was greeted with a resounding “click.”

“Idiot. Put that down and get on the raptor.”

Cici

The three of them, squeezed on one raptor, were still not more than Claw could handle. The raptor swept off into the depths of the jungle – away from the cottage. Cici relieved Janus of his shotgun. “Good thing you have no idea how this works. You would’ve killed our only ride. That, or just ticked him off.”

As if in reply, the raptor gave a barking shout as it lunged over a small stream. The three riders clung desperately to his back, and the shotgun shell Cici had been about to load toppled from her hand and landed on the bank.

“What happened?” Anneliese cried above the noise.

“No idea. They just surprised us.” Replied Janus. “All I know is that Grunt shoved me into that trapdoor and told me to gather anything.”

Cici nodded. “He was always prepared for the worst.”

And he had left her alone, again. He had known that ceiling was about to collapse. He had thrust her to freedom. She remembered her last word to him. She’d yelled “Dad…”

Why?

Janus

They rode until the raptor began to flag. He was a powerful beast, no doubt, but carrying all three of them was apparently exhausting, though the creature didn’t seem to show many signs of exhaustion. He just slowed, then stopped. Almost before they had dismounted, the raptor’s eyes shut. He was asleep on his feet.

Cici gave the mount a pet. “He saved us.”

Janus looked back across the forest. They hadn’t been subtle, and anything with any sort of tracking ability could have easily followed them. He turned to Cici. “Show me how to use that gun.”

The girl nodded silently. She pulled the shotgun off her shoulder and handed it to the elf. “See this? It’s called a barrel. Point it at the enemy. This is the trigger. You already know what that does. This is the stock. Place it against your shoulder, unless you want a good bruise out of the deal.”

Janus nodded and followed her instructions. “What now?”

“All right, which eye is your dominant?”

Janus told her.

“Okay, line up the shotgun on your left shoulder. Yep, just like that. Use your closest hand for the trigger and the other to cock it. Like so.”

Janus listened to the loud “ch-chunk!” as the cocking mechanism slid back. Cici pushed it forward again. “That’s pretty much it. If you had ammo in it, you’d be good to go.”

“How do I load it?”

She pointed to a small rectangular slot on the side of the gun. “Just slide crimply end in first. This thing probably can hold about eight shots, maybe. I’m not positive.”

Janus slid in a shell, then another, and another, until no more could fit. It held seven total shots.

“Oh yah, one more thing. That button there.”

Janus looked on the side. There was a small round button. It was ringed with a small red line.

“That’s the safety. If you see red, you’re good to shoot. Grunt always told me ‘red, you’re dead.’ Keep that pushed in.” Janus did so, and the button vanished and popped out the other side. “See, it’s now black? That means the trigger can’t fire.”

“So how do I get it off safety?”

“Just push that button and you’re good to go.”

Janus nodded.

“Here, take these. And please, always look before you shoot.” She said, with a wink.

Janus returned the smile.

Anneliese

Cici was busy showing Janus how to load and fire the shotgun. Thankfully, they didn’t really fire. Anneliese was afraid that would draw the attention of everything in this gods-forsaken jungle.

Anneliese took a moment to step away from the group. Claw was still asleep, rocking gently on his strong, muscular legs. She wondered how soon it would be before he just flopped over. How did raptors sleep?

She observed the massive beast. His striped head had dropped slightly. It was the first time Anneliese had actually observed him. In the brightening light, she could see the alternating green-and-brown stripes that ran across his snout. His nostrils opened and closed rhythmically. Occasionally, a muscle twitched in his back. She ran a delicate finger across his scales. One flaked of at her touch. Was he shedding?

She was struck by the thought that if this raptor were like other lizards she had seen, he would actually be growing bigger! How large could they get? She’d heard of the king lizards – massive two-story brutes that were rumored to live far to the south. She’d also heard of the saber-faces, a frilled creature nearly twice as tall as the raptor and several times as long.

She chuckled, in spite of everything. Now those things would be impressive in battle!

Janus had apparently finished his training, and was now arranging the ammo in a small pouch on

his side. He slung the gun over his shoulder, then retrieved it again. She imagined it must be quite the change compared to his bow.

“He’ll probably end up killing one of us.”

Anneliese chuckled. “I’ve heard he’s quite the shot with a bow. Maybe he’ll surprise us.”

“Maybe… hopefully.”

“Did he manage to grab any other weapons?”

Cici handed over a small packet of knives. “I decided to take the pistol, since I’ve been trained in it. Personally, I also prefer a bow, but that’s not a luxury I have right now either. These are some knives. Think you can use them?”

Anneliese took the packet. Six small, well-balanced daggers lay wrapped in such a way that she could retrieve them with little effort. She whisked one out of the packaging and twirled it in her fingers. “Coincidentally, you’ve stumbled upon an old hobby of mine. Yes, I can use them. Thanks.”

She felt stronger, somehow, knowing that she was now able to defend herself. Since she had borrowed Janus’s dagger back at the dock – and subsequently buried in the face of an attacker – she had been defenseless. She figured, in the grand scheme of things, she was still defenseless. But it was a start.

An hour had passed since Claw had fallen asleep. Cici stroked the knobbly scales on the side of his neck. “C’mon, boy. We’ve got to go.”

The going was slower now, but the sun had risen. Their path was clearer, and so they were able to beat a more stealthy retreat.

“How far to the fords?”

“About another days’ journey, maybe two. To be honest, I’m not really sure where we are. None of this looks familiar. Right now, I’m just going by the sun. As long as it’s somewhere behind us in the morning, we’re going the right direction.”

Command 10:40 AM

“Are you sure that was a good idea?” asked the man at the keyboard.

The dark-haired man, his eyes ringed with swollen circles, swirled a cup of dark liquid in his hand. It was clear he hadn’t slept a full night in days. “It continues as we’ve planned. He had to be removed from the picture.”

“Aren’t we driving them too hard?”

“That’s the only way.”

The man at the keyboard typed in a few more commands. “And if they die of exhaustion?”

“Then they die. So what?”

Keyboard looked down again. He’d been on shift at this monitoring station for nearly twenty-four hours straight. “When are the others coming?”

Dark-hair shrugged. “No idea. All connection with the others is being handled elsewhere.”

“Were there any other survivors?”

“I think so. Bring up scanners along the main road.”

Keyboard did so. Several blips showed a small group moving through the mountains. They were moving quickly. “Well, they’re resourceful.” One was moving back and forth over the northern territories – straight over mountains. Keyboard chuckled. “Think he’ll actually join the fight at all?”

Dark-hair smiled. “We’ll see. Where’s the army now?”

“About three clicks east of here.” He said, pointing to a random dot. “that was a city, as of yesterday. We’ll have to wait a few minutes before we can access video feed there. It’ll take a while to locate a working hub.”

Dark-hair nodded. “Good. Keep an eye on things. I need more coffee.”

Jaffe

The sun was sitting high in the sky when Jaffe finally reached the main road. The stench of … everything unclean in his beard filled his nostrils. He looked down at Gorg. “You reek, ol’ mutt.”

The beast growled in response.

Hati barked.

The dwarf had been riding for almost an hour. He was parched. He dismounted, drew a flask from his hip, and drained it in a single pull. His thirst quenched, he wiped his mouth and replaced the cap. “Warm. Oh, well. Where are we?”

His head began to swim again. He shook it to clear his thoughts and pulled out another flask. He drained a few swigs from it. His thinking became even more sluggish. “Stupid water…” he muttered. He capped the flask and rummaged in his supplies. He uncapped yet another flask, sniffed the bottle, and then took a swig.

“Bah, whatever!” He muttered. He couldn’t find his water. He’d have to make do with whatever

other fluids he found.

He scraped something odd-smelling out of his beard and climbed back onto the shoulders of his vargr. “Go, Gorg!”

In a world of philosophy, where some ask deep, probing questions such as “Why am I here?” or “What is my purpose,” Jaffe found himself perpetually bored. He had tamed Hati and Gorg. Not out of any desire to prove a point or as a show of strength. He was ultimately extremely lazy – to the point that taming an animal to carry him around and act as an alarm clock seemed easier than any other option.

He had heard someone say one time that the lazy man works harder to get out of work than he would have had he just done the job. That sounded like an interesting quote, and that’s as far as Jaffe ever got down that philosophical road. He lounged on the back of Gorg, occasionally recoiling at the stench. He wasn’t sure if it was the matted, rank odor of wet dog or the stale, clogged contents of his beard. Either way, he could live with it. It was just irritating.

So he took a pull from his flask and looked around. The road was leading downhill. If he had read the map correctly, this road led out of the mountains and into a crossroad town called Broadford. It was a hamlet positioned strategically at the junction of the canyon and the road leading to the capital of the Caphic region – Caphon. Maybe he could catch the train into Caphon, or a dragon, or pretty much anything that would take him up to the elven capital.

He checked his wrick. It read 12:30 PM. He frowned. It was another half-day’s journey to Broadford… not good enough. He’d have to find a place to bed down for a night. And he supposed the dogs would have to eat.

Janus

The first shot went high. Really high. As in, severing the bottom branches of a pine tree high. Janus quickly adjusted for the recoil and fired again. The carapace of a large, spider-like creature exploded into bits of ichor and chitin, greenish blood splashing against the forest backdrop. Another was rounding a large jungle plant. It went down with a few well-placed shots by Cici. Her pistol was a smaller caliber, but she had been well-trained. Two shots to the forehead dropped the beast quickly.

Claw roared in defiance, knowing he couldn’t engage the enemy. With gunfire, he ran a high risk of being hit.

Anneliese stood back as well, dagger in hand, waiting.

Janus spun and fired again. The spiders were getting smarter. Their clacking filled the glade as they began to drop menacingly from the trees. He turned to Cici.

“Not spider-webs, eh?”

“Shut up and fight!”

Janus remembered his dream – his people dead, or being butchered senselessly, some being eaten alive. It had seemed too real to be a dream. Anger welled inside. If that’s how his people fell, then may the gods strike him down if he didn’t do the same to these beasts!

One spider made a dash at him. He waited until it was too close to dodge and leveled the shotgun at the monster’s face. Oddly human eyes widened in shock and the slug from the gun plastered through its face. There was a sickening splat as the body contorted backwards and twitched into a death seizure.

A few more shots. Reload. Another shot. Another dead spider. Soon, they got the picture.

Cici loaded another magazine and waited. The clattering of a dying spider was the only sound they could hear.

“Next time, we go around the spider-infested grove.”

“Yah.”

Janus reached down and wrenched a leg off of one of the spiders.

“What are you doing?” Anneliese asked.

“These things are tough. This’ll be a good weapon in a pinch.”

“Gross, yet effective, I guess.” Replied Cici. She mounted the raptor. “Let’s get a move on.” She looked at her wrick. “It’s almost three. We’ll need to find a place to hide soon.”

Anneliese

Crammed on a raptor between Cici and Janus was proving to be a little awkward. Every time she tried to hold on, Cici scolded her. “Keep your hands to yourself.” Her conversations with Janus were still a little strained. She thought back to his shoving her and realized she had overreacted… greatly. He hadn’t struck her, he’d really hardly touched her. Most of the physical “trauma” she’d realized had been imagined. She had blushed upon discovering it, and had wished she could pull back all her words – harsh, untested words.

She had tried to smile at him when possible, had tried to strike up conversation throughout the day when they took rests. But he had avoided her more often than not. He’d taken to conversing with Cici, getting tips on proper gun usage, exchanging combat stories, comparing notes on survival in the wilderness.

One time, he had volunteered to climb a tall tree to get their bearings. She wanted to offer aid, but he had looked at her with such a gaze – she couldn’t tell if it was pity, disgust, dismissal – that she

had bit her tongue instead.

Had their blossoming friendship shattered that fast?

And then there was the problem of the coming armies. They had found them once – admittedly, it seemed to be only a scouting party – would they be discovered again? Her dream – so realistic – had shown armies swarming Caphon. She didn’t know if she trusted it, but something in her told her it was highly likely. If they could make it to Broadford, they stood a chance.

But what if the monsters swarmed into Caphon first? Alon would surely come looking for their prince and ambassador, but would they discover the danger in time? Alon was barely defended as it was. A defense contract had been discussed once, even the installation of a rail-line between Highpass and Rift. It had been turned down. Alon didn’t see the need – they, after all, had mountain defenses on almost all sides.

Apparently, those natural defenses were useless against an army such as this. Rift had fallen in less than a day. How much would have been different if she had been able to work out the alliance – a pledge of mutual defense as well as an installation of several new air bases throughout Alon territory – particularly the Eastern Barrier Hills.

She had thought it strange that Caphon would even be concerned about Eastern Alon. It was close to the mountainous wall that separated the main kingdoms from the East, but no action had been seen along those passes for hundreds of years. Surely whatever was trapped in those parts wouldn’t be a threat any longer.

She almost laughed at how wrong she had been. The Caphic government apparently had the right idea. Ghoul incursions hadn’t been random. They had been an advance scouting force. Deep down, Anneliese wondered how many outlying elven villages near the Eastern Barrier Mountains had fallen, and that no word had reached the rest of Alon because of a whole-sale slaughter.

For all she knew, the three of them were the only survivors of Rift. Surely any that fled on the Alonian side of the Span would have been tracked and killed – especially considering they had been discovered nearly a day’s journey away from the scene of the attack.

“Cici?”

“Yah?”

“Does anyone live down here? We haven’t seen anyone for over a day, not since the Inn.”

Cici nodded. “It’s a large area, probably over a hundred square miles all told. I think there are a few tribes that still roam, but they’re becoming few and far between. Most civilians have moved to Broadford or Highpass. Well, some had moved to Rift as well.”

“But why not live down here? It seems really deserted.”

“Every year, maybe next month or the month after, torrential rains in the Barrier Mountains swell the Alonhill River.” Replied Janus. “A few other dried-up rivers come back to life, too. Many places in this canyon become swamps or ponds.”

“And you guys still built your survival house down here?”

Cici shrugged. “I’m sure Grunt took precautions. Honestly, I’d imagine he built a dam somewhere, or channels to direct the water. I don’t really know. Maybe he didn’t think it all the way through.”

“So there’s nowhere permanently liveable down here?”

“Well, many of the native tribes actually build villages in the cliff walls.” She thought for a moment. “You know… that’s not a bad idea. Janus, I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

“Get up that tree and look…” she peered up toward the sun. It was in front of them. “Look there.” She said, pointing off to the right. “I think we’re probably closer to the northern rim of the canyon. Climb up and see if it’s nearby.”

Janus nodded, and Annelies watched, feeling useless, as he shimmied his way up a nearby tree.

He vanished in the foliage, was gone for several seconds, and then a shout came down. “Can you hear me?”

“Yep, what’s going on?”

“It’s probably about an hour’s ride north of us. Oh, and something else.”

“What is it?”

“Smoke, behind us.”

Anneliese heard Cici curse. “How are they that fast?”

“Better get down here! We got to move.”

Janus dropped almost instantly out of the tree. At the last minute, he caught one of the lower branches and arrested his fall. He swung expertly on the branch, landed in a graceful squat, and bounded the last several feet to the ground. “All right, head that way. I saw what looked like a game trail just on the other side of this brush.”

This time, when he climbed up, he slid in behind Cici. “I’ve got to tell her something.” Was his

only excuse.

Anneliese moved toward the back of the saddle. She was now sitting painfully on the cantle. She reached behind her and braced herself against Claw’s rear with her hands.

This is miserable.

The raptor bounded off into the brush, nearly knocking Anneliese free as he leapt over some of the low-standing brush and found the game trail. Anneliese could hear Janus whispering to Cici, and felt a loathsome burn in her gut when the dark haired girl laughed raucously. She looked down and noticed Janus holding on to the girl.

Anneliese’s heart sank even deeper.

Jaffe

A place to sleep. Jaffe saw a small building off in the distance. There were several houses, villages, and rest stops along this route. He enjoyed traveling this way – as much as he liked traveling, anyway. The road was paved, people were friendly, and occasionally a tavern would actually be open this time of year. The winter thaw had finally begun in the mountains, and the rains would be coming in the month. Because of that, taverns actually began to open, and the roads were actually inhabited.

He had passed several vehicles on his journey. The people inside had stared at him as if they’d never seen a vargr before. He had merely belched or made some rude comment and they had continued on. Seriously, they needed to get out more. He had watched some of them travel on toward Highpass, the last large city before the road began to wind through the mountains.

Once those vehicles reached Highpass, Jaffe figured they’d either have to turn around or start walking – the roads through the mountain were notoriously non-maintained. And now they were particularly treacherous with the snowmelt. That snowmelt would soon be flooding the canyon.

Jaffe felt stiff. He reined his beast and dismounted. He could feel the smelly weight of his beard. He had forgotten about it until the sudden motion stirred up some new stench. He retched a little bit and picked at another dry, crusty spot. He figured he should probably wash it at some point.

He stretched and began to walk around. A few yards away, on the other side of a guardrail, was a gorgeous view of the canyon. He meandered over to it, Hati tailing. Gorg moved off to the side of the road and flopped down, apparently exhausted.

“What do you have to be tired about?” muttered the dwarf. He leaned against the rail and looked out over the emerald jewel of a canyon. That’s what others had called it at least. He couldn’t care one way or another what it looked like. It was inconvenient. To get to the other side, which was about thirty or forty miles away at this point, would take a roundtrip journey of a few days – either up through the mountains to Rift or around, through Broadford and into the tribal lands to the south. Either

way was a frustrating, dirty journey that could’ve been spared had the stupid dwarves not decided to strip mine the whole place.

Something dark was clouding the floor below. He looked on with very slight curiosity.

Someone had started a brush fire down there. He shook his head. It was still quite some miles off, but was burning fairly rapidly.

“Stupid tourists.”

He walked back to Gorg, gave the beast a prod – which earned him a deep, menacing growl in return – and made his way on to the inn.

“Hope they take money in the morning, rather than upfront.”

Anneliese

Ruined buildings rose above them. The natives of this region had built fortresses high on the canyon walls, carving them out of the limestone rock. Houses, amphitheaters, temples, even arenas and gardens – they had it all. And it was all carved with intricate care out of the grey-brown stone.

Vines and other vegetation had crept in through the years, and a few places had already collapsed in the melt-streams. Small rivulets of water, cascading from above, pooled here and there, before overflowing their own banks again and rushing off down the canyon toward the rivers below.

Anneliese was reminded of the last time she had washed herself, over a day or so earlier, and suddenly felt filthy. Maybe she’d slip off in the night and use this natural shower. For the first time in what felt like forever, she maybe would finally get some rest.

The sun was setting in the distance, streaking the sky with blood-tinged fingers. It had been a rough day, but at least the good weather would hold till the morrow. The two elves and human wandered through the ruined city. Cici climbed her way up to one of the watch towers.

Anneliese could hear her calling Janus up to see something.

The elf maid smiled sadly and petted Claw’s snout. “Guess it’s just you and me, boy.”

The raptor gave a small hoot in response, a strange and oddly quiet sound for such a large beast, and settled down in the dirt. He began to kick dirt onto his spines and rolled back and forth a little. Soon, he returned to his standing position, and promptly fell asleep.

“Guess it’s just me, then.”

She wandered around the village, pausing at the edge of a small amphitheater. In the center of the arena was a small dirt court. She wandered down into it and stopped at a small hole in the very

center. Up through it blew a light breeze. She wondered what purpose that served. With no ready answer, and no hints from her limited knowledge of history, she wandered on.

The streets up here were paved with hard red dirt and flagstone. It was really quite ingenious. Each stone had been set in place and then apparently secured by a strange mixture of sand and clay that appeared to harden like concrete. These stones had probably stood for hundreds of years, but they looked as if they had been laid down yesterday.

She continued to what had served as a meeting place – some sort of temple complex. Two stone guardians glared down at her. Their bodies were carved out of large pieces of what appeared to be granite. The white-and-black stones stood out in sharp contrast to the reddish brown of everywhere else. Where these natives had gotten granite, she could only guess. The guardians were tall, nearly twice her height. They each stared down at her with a stern grimace.

They appeared to be dwarves of some sort, maybe humans. It was hard to tell. Large mustaches hung down on either side of their well-shaped faces. They were handsome, if anything. Old armor, apparently some sort of plate, stretched across their chests. In their hands, one in the right and the other in the left, they held long spears, and it seemed that, by the angles, they were blocking entrance. The tops of their spears crossed about level with the top of Anneliese’s head.

Their armor stretched down in banded skirts to about the knee. Below that, greaves rose from armored shoes. All was carved to portray steel plating throughout. How would a native tribe have this level of understanding of steel armor and weaponry? Had they possessed such things? Nothing in any of her history books had even hinted these natives possessed more than the most rudimentary stone tools.

She looked around her, and the intricately carved buildings seemed to scream otherwise.

She continued into the temple.

It was open to the sky above, and carved in such a way that water from the cliffside dropped through a portcullis window high in the ceiling. Shimmering as it came, the miniature waterfall sparkled and glittered. Its beauty, combined with the waning sunlight’s shadows, seemed to cast a peaceful spell across the scene. She smelled flowers. Blossoming around a central bath were dozens of newly-grown roses. Near them, twisting their desperate path toward the sunlight above, wove delicate morning glories. They were closed.

Anneliese plucked one and breathed deep. She smiled, and a sense of calm she hadn’t felt in days stole over her. She looked back over her shoulder. She was alone. She tested the water with a foot. It was actually warm. Apparently something in this temple was actually heating the water as it fell. She took one last glance around and, seeing no one was nearby, slipped into the warm bath, praying she wasn’t profaning a god’s sacrificial water or something like that.

The last thing she needed now was to be alienating whatever gods watched over this world.

Claw

The raptor awoke. He could smell something coming. It was in the wind. He could hear strange noises from the jungles off in the distance. The dark enemy creatures were approaching. He didn’t sense any specific danger at the moment, but one eye popped open anyway.

Darkness was falling. The mistress was high in her tower, the blonde male-one was somewhere in the base, or in the tower – he couldn’t quite tell. Claw stretched and sought out the other one. She had wandered off – he had smelled her. Claw made his way past dark silhouettes of buildings. He smelled his mistress, then the male. He sniffed the air again. There was the smell of dwarf heavy in this area. He followed the odor of the other elf to a large open area.

In it was a hole, a dwarf-smelling hole. He could feel vibrations from beneath his feet. Something was under there. Something smelling of fire and grease. Something … the raptor sniffed again… something meatish. The raptor nosed at the hole, but was rebuffed by the wind. He shook his snout and waited a moment.

The sun set completely, and he could feel a coolness on his scales almost immediately begin to set in. As he stood, confused by the smells, the wind shifted. His nose probed toward the hole again. Now wind was moving into it. He sniffed. No scents. Just the weird vibrations. The weird sounds.

Bored, the raptor moved on, following the trail the elf had left. He nosed his way under two large shapes and entered a dark building with light and water falling in from the ceiling. He looked around. He saw something pale in the moonlight. He nosed at it. It belonged to the elf maid. He lifted his nose and breathed out. The object fell off his shout. He bent over and sniffed it again.

Something suddenly moved. He had thought it a statue. He came closer. It was something small, breathing on the ground. He nosed it. It was soft. The thing moved with a start and a scream.

He jumped back in alarm.

Anneliese

She had fallen asleep by the pool, using a blanket provided by Cici earlier in the day to cover herself. She didn’t think Janus or Cici would appear, but she didn’t want to risk the embarrassment. She didn’t want to think where they were at the moment.

She had been dreaming about the attack on Caphon – all she ever dreamed about anymore. Even the few moments during the day she had managed to catch a few minutes of sleep when they had stopped to rest – all she ever saw was the tentacled creature bursting up from the canals and the wyvern packs falling from the skies. She saw fires blazing from dozens of spots throughout the city. She saw the train, a massive cannon mounted on a car, derailed and blazing, spider-like creatures tearing chunks of it

apart as they preyed on the people within.

That’s all she ever dreamed. That’s all she ever felt – flames licking her.

That’s all she ever smelled – burnt flesh and death. She wasn’t fighting atop a building anymore. She was lying, wounded, in the street. Someone else was standing over her, fighting to defend her life. She saw Cici manning a small turret and Janus, still armed with a glaive of gold and emerald, at the dark-haired girl’s side.

This sight saddened Anneliese almost more than the destruction of her city, for she knew this one to be true. Janus had made a choice…

Then came a cold snout against her side. The blanket had fallen free and cold air had struck her like ice. She had bounded up, clutching the blanket against her for warmth and modesty. She cried out in alarm. It was Claw!

The raptor jumped back and hissed. She waved her free hand. “No, shhh… it’s just me. Claw. It’s me.”

The raptor nuzzled up against her, an oddly affectionate gesture for a lizard. She made her way to her clothes, which she had left hanging by the water. Apparently Claw had investigated her shirt. It was now lying on the floor, one sleeve soaked in the water. She quickly dressed, trying to ignore her now-wet arm, and petted the raptor on the head.

“Good boy. You came looking for me, didn’t you?”

The raptor gazed at her blankly.

She scratched at some dry skin alongside the small circle on the side of the raptor’s head. She forgot the name for the thing, but thought she remembered its use. It was an external eardrum, she thought. She lightly tickled it, and the raptor gazed at her suspiciously.

“No?” She moved farther along the neck, scratching at the knobbly scales that ran down the back of the raptor’s muscular neck. At this, the beasts’ eyes began to close. She smiled. At least she still had him. She petted him until his breathing slowed, then settled down against his muscular feet, marveling at the sharp digit extending from each powerful foot. She lightly touched the talon, then pulled up her blanket around her and fell asleep against his leg.

The nightmares spared her for the rest of the evening. She dreamed about the beauty she had seen in Alon, of the friendship she had formed with Janus, of the beauty of the Bridaldeath Falls… before all this. Before all the death.

Day 4

Anneliese

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was still dark when Anneliese awoke. Claw had already gone, and she apparently hadn’t even woken when he had left. She slowly blinked awake. Janus was standing in the doorway.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“What do you mean, ‘oh, it’s me.’ You were the one trying to flirt with me yesterday. Are you mad still? I apologized over and over.”

Anneliese softened, though part of her still stood back in suspicion. Why did he suddenly now want to talk?

“Well, what do you want, then? I’m sorry, things have just been too strange lately.”

Janus shrugged, walking over to the water feature in the center of the room. “I just wanted to make sure we’re okay.”

Hope peeped its small head out. She tried to fight back a smile.

“Of course we are. I’m sorry for how I reacted. I know you didn’t try to hurt me. I was just startled, that’s all.”

“Yah, and you got me in a lot of trouble. I never thought I’d get lectured about how to treat a lady by an orc.”

Anneliese frowned. “I was worried that’s what that was about.”

Janus nodded. “Yah, it wasn’t comfortable sleeping in the same room as him, either.”

“I just asked Cici… I didn’t tell him to do it.”

“She told me. It’s fine. The past is the past. We’ve got better things to worry about.” He stretched out his hand and tested the water. “Wow… this is warm. I’ll have to let Cici know.”

He had dropped her name. What did that mean? Had he chosen her?

Janus wiped off his hand. “Well, I should go check on her; I think she’s still asleep. I just wanted to make sure we’re okay.”

Anneliese nodded.

“I’m sorry for how I acted, Janus.” She said, stepping up to him and wrapping him in a hug. She felt his whole body tense. What was wrong? Had she said something… had she done something?

She felt a nervous hand, as if Janus didn’t know how to respond, pet her on the shoulder. Her

heart sank lower and she suddenly felt the urge to release him, to shove Hope back in his little box and just run away. She kept her eyes to the ground in embarrassment. “S-sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“That’s all right. Guess this is all just new to me. You know, a day ago I would have paid to have you hug me.”

Would have? Anneliese could feel a tear threatening to burst like water over an overfull dam. All the emotion – all the fear, and exhaustion, and uncertainty – was threatening to crush her. She smiled, wiping at her face as quickly as she could.

“Hey – um – if you’re gonna tell Cici about the bath here…” she trailed off; she could feel her lower lip quivering. “Uh… well, you’d better.” She swiped quickly at her eye and turned around. “You’d better get going. We – we’ll have to be off soon if we’re going to keep ahead of… them.” She turned and strode out of the room, leaving her blanket and satchel where she had been sleeping.

As soon as she was certain she wasn’t being watched, she rushed out the front entrance of the temple and fled deeper along the city, past houses that yawned and gaped at her shame. Their sightless eyes seemed to bore into her, calling her out for the fool she was. He ran until her legs collapsed, and she flopped to her hands and knees and sobbed. Why had she come all this way – why had she hoped? What had she done so wrong that she deserved this?

Jaffe

Morning found Jaffe being dragged bodily out of bed and tossed to the road.

The sun hadn’t even begun to rise over the canyon. He could barely see the road. He scowled through his beard at the men who had grabbed him. Several other patrons had been equally roughed and awoken.

“What’sh the meaning of thish?” slurred Jaffe. He had enjoyed the tavern’s particular blessings much the night before. “I’m a paying cushtomer of thish fine eshtablishment, and I will be treated with – with court-court – with respect!”

“Shut your trap, dirty dwarf.” He felt a blow strike across his face. It was mostly deflected by his beard. He spat at his attacker, which promptly was caught up in the hairs of his face. Curious, forgetting his trouble for a moment, his tongue reached out and touched the globule.

The moment of revelry was interrupted by the inn-keeper’s screams. He was yelling at someone Jaffe didn’t recognize. “We don’t have your money! Leave us be!”

The shadowy group of men seemed bothered by this statement. Why? This was entirely reasonable to Jaffe, who rarely carried money himself and failed to see the problem with everyone else being as equally poor. He would have shrugged and said “okay” and been on his merry way.

But the thugs didn’t seem too impressed. They struck the inn-keeper’s wife, knocking her to the ground. One stooped over her with a knife. He pressed it against her throat.

Now that was uncalled for. She made a very good brew.

Jaffe struggled against his ropes. Those bandits knew what they were doing.

The inn-keeper’s wife cried out, her scream ripping through the night. The bandits meant business! It wasn’t out of any nobility in his heart, or any overwhelming concern for her health. Jaffe was just frustrated at being awoken so early in the day, and then to watch one of the best brewmaidens being threatened over something as stupid as money – well, that was a bridge too far. Jaffe let out a little whistle.

“Hey! Shut it, or you’ll be next!” A bandit spat, aiming a kick at the dwarf.

He saw stars and felt his body pitch to the side. He was too inebriated to fully know what had happened. He inchwormed himself into an awkward half-sitting position and whistled again.

“Smart guy, eh?”

The bandit was about to aim another kick at him when something large and smelly took off his leg with a single bite. The bandit flew backwards as a resounding crack announced the divorce of his knee and shin. It all happened so suddenly he didn’t even have time to cry out before his body pitched off the grass and landed in the road. The smelly blur returned, buried its teeth in his midsection, and sent his body pitching over the canyon with barely a sound, save for a pinched scream.

The remaining few bandits paused. Even the chief, whose pistol was aimed at the head of the innkeeper, looked around, wondering where the other had gone so suddenly. A leg, torn cleanly at the knee, landed suddenly at his feet. He stepped back, aghast.

“What the devil…” he began. And the devil appeared – covered in matted grey-black fur (or so it appeared in the early morning darkness) and smelling of sweat and blood. The vargr roared angrily and took down the bandit chief. He barely had time to swing his pistol around when the large wolf took off his hand at the wrist. The pistol clattered to the ground, and the bandit staggered back, gaping in shock at his severed hand.

He stared at the innkeeper, who was just as shocked as he was. The innkeeper almost cried out a warning as the ferocious devil returned.

With a howl, the bandit’s head vanished in a small puff of blood. The innkeeper choked in shock. The bandit’s body tottered a few moments, then dropped unceremoniously to the side, where it remained, twitching slightly.

The innkeeper vomited, the innkeeper’s wife shrieked in sheer terror. The other patrons

scrambled as fast as they were able back into the inn. Even the bandits scattered to the wind. Jaffe nodded. “Good boy, Gorg. Now bite me free.”

Somehow, the vargr seemed to understand, and soon Jaffe was rubbing his wrists. What a mess. He poked the severed leg in an apathetic sort of way. He looked at the wolf. “Showoff.”

He walked back into the inn, took a long, hot bath, and then went back to sleep until another sound dragged him out of bed.

Anneliese

She had fallen asleep in her own tears inside one of the old houses. Round about six or seven, Janus came looking for her.

“Anneliese? Anne? Where are you?”

The elf rose groggily from the hard stone floor where she had curled up late that morning. She knew she must look a mess, but she didn’t really care at that moment. She pulled herself over to the door and stood up.

She stretched in the shadows and let him walk past. She then casually stepped out of the darkness and made her way back to the temple. Her heart was heavy, and her body was sore. She staggered into the temple and retrieved her satchel and blanket from where they still lay on the floor.

“He’s worried about you, you know.”

She turned. Cici was lounging in the pool. She turned around and leaned her chin against her arms, which were resting against the lip of the bath.

“You know he never meant to hurt you.”

Anneliese nodded. “I know.” She walked out. The sun was beginning to rise. She turned. Cici was stretched out in the pool again. “We should be heading soon.”

Cici waved. “Yah, I know. Go find Janus. Talk to him. He has something important to tell you.”

Anneliese left and wandered off in the direction she had last seen Janus. She dreaded seeing him, dreaded what he would say. She dreaded what he so badly needed to talk to her about. Somehow, deep in her gut, she knew what he was going to say.

Cici

She pulled her hair back into two long ponytails and fiddled with her jacket. She regretted not grabbing better clothes when she was at the cabin, but food seemed more important at the time. She thought about last night, about staying up late into the night talking with Janus. It had been a small

comfort, especially since…

Her thoughts fell to thinking about Grunt. She had hoped against hope the stubborn old orc was still alive. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the doorway of the temple. She’d sent Janus off with specific instructions to explain things to Anneliese. Partly it was to assert her control over him – see just how far he’d go to please her; partly, she just wanted some time to think over everything that had happened.

In the course of a few days, she had lost everyone dear to her. She had lost Grunt twice, and had lost the effort to grieve over him again. She frowned at herself. She remembered her petty weeping fits through the streets of Rift. Never again would she allow herself to be that way. She had lost family before. Her father and mother had died when she was young. Every friend she’d ever had had probably burned in Rift, or had been butchered, or dragged of and had who-knows-what done to them.

It didn’t do to dwell on the tragedies of the past.

Her face hardened like flint. She was no longer driven by what had been. She would avenge her family, 0__her friends, her city – no… she’d avenge herself on those who did this. Whatever daemon crawled out of his little corner of the pit to mess with her life would rue the day – he’d rue the day he decided to invade her world.

She clenched a fist. It all made sense in her head. Why didn’t her heart agree?

She stormed down the streets, whistling for Claw. The raptor appeared and nuzzled against her open palm. She pulled a small strip of jerky from her satchel and fed it to the beast.

Janus

His heart pounding, the elf took a cautious step away from Anneliese. He was torn inside. She was officially still his to protect, yet with recent developments, he felt less and less of a desire to be around her. She just made his feel confused.

He had explained how things would be from now on. He expected her to lash out, to become angry – something violent. He had braced for it.

But she hadn’t. She had simply nodded and remained standing where she had been when the conversation had begun. For a few moments, they had stood staring at each other. Her eyes had shimmered slightly, but then had become sad, but confident. He had been forced to finally take the first step away from her.

“Are we okay?” He asked, attempting to ease the strain. The air itself was so full of tension it seemed likely to break.

Anneliese broke eye contact and looked around the small canyon village. She shrugged. “What

kind of question is that?”

“An honest one…” he attempted.

“To what end? If we’re fine, what is accomplished? If we’re not – what difference does it make?”

Janus started to reply, realized he had no good words to say, at least nothing that would help the situation, and fell silent. The elf maid reached out a hand and placed it on his. “I think I loved you once, Janus. Maybe I still do…” He felt his heart beat somewhat faster – memories of their first few hours together returned. At the same time, his heart felt sick with what he had just said to her. She continued. “… but you’ve made your choice. Don’t worry about me. You’ll just give me hope.”

Janus felt something splinter in his soul. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs of indecision that had begun to entwine him. He looked down. He was now holding her hand. She looked down at their ensnared hands, then up at his face. Her face closed into a tight grimace, then slowly – painfully – folded into a sad smile. She gave his hand gentle caress.

“I always loved the roughness of your hands. It meant to me you knew how to do the hard thing…” She released him and turned away, but not before finishing with. “Don’t worry about your Alonian oath to protect me. You’ll have a hard enough time taking care of yourself and Cici.”

No words could have hurt him more. She was so gracious, so kind. She then simply walked past him and returned to the entrance of the city, leaving him wondering why his heart and head had suddenly decided to argue. He had decided. The decision was made. All he had to do was look toward the future and forget the past. At least, that’s what Cici had challenged him to do.

He turned and watched the blonde elf-maid, her outfit still mirroring his own, as she made her way down the road and vanished around an old, ruined building. He leaned against the rough doorway of a nearby building, his mind racing.

Anneliese

The sun was moving its way up through the sky when they left the ruins. The smoke from the jungle fires had choked out most of the sky behind them. Apparently, the flames had stopped sometime in the night, for the smoke seemed no closer than it had been. She couldn’t help but wonder just what was happening. Had the creatures followed them into the canyon, or had that raiding party been nothing but a small group of bandits – not associated with the monsters?

Deep in her heart, she dreaded the thought that the entire invasion of Alon had been a ruse, and that the armies had flown directly to Highpass, or Broadford, or even Caphon itself, and that every exertion this entire time had been for naught. Again, memories of her nightmares came upon her. Did it really portend her fate? Or was she fated for some better end?

As the old dwarvish proverb said: “If you believe you’re fated to it or not, so you are.” She knew she wrote her own course, or at least hoped greatly she did. Nothing was set in stone but the past. Though, even as she said this, something wormed its way into the back of her mind. Some fact she should know, some truth she should recognize. Memories… like a word on the tip of the tongue. A program… what program? Frustrated, she put it out of her mind and held on to the back of Claw as he carried them across the canyon toward its end.

Cici yelled above the wind. “We’re about half-a-day’s ride from Broadford! From there, it’s about another few hours train-ride to Caphon! We’re going to make it!”

Anneliese groaned a little inside. She didn’t feel the need to be told the distance between Caphon and Broadford. She knew such things by heart. She wondered if, deep inside, Cici was trying to impress Janus, country boy that he was, about her knowledge of the city.

Was she actually feeling jealous?

Jaffe

He smelled smoke and felt, more than heard, the banging at his door. He sloshed his way awake and was startled, not by the smell, but by the lack of smell. His beard was clean! When did that happen? He ran his fingers absently through his chestnut chin shrubbery and was reveling in the smoothness of it when the knock came again.

Right! Smoke! He rushed to the door. A fair maiden was standing there, demanding entrance. He stepped aside. “What are you waiting for?”

He smiled. “I could ask you the same thing, fair dame. Come in!”

“Are you nuts?” She cried, “The inn’s on fire! Run!”

He popped out of his revelry. She wasn’t that attractive anyway. He grabbed up his gear and fled from the room, absently stuffing the sheet from his bed into his bag as he went. If the inn was about to burn down, they wouldn’t miss it anyway. With everyone screaming and running, he found himself stumbling behind the counter and rushing out the door with several new bottles clanking in his bag.

He tripped and fell flat on his face. Looking up, he found himself staring right into the large, dimwitted eyes of a very angry wyvern. It was angry because it had just died. Acid dripped from its lifeless jaws, and its eyes, as stupid in death as they had been in life, stared in apparent shock. It had apparently just lost its entire body, and its head had fallen off right there in front of the inn. Blood and venom pooled around it.

Over on the edge of the road, Gorg was chewing on the body, carefully avoiding the venom sacks.

Jaffe whistled for his dogs to come and, leaving the screaming residents of the inn behind to whatever fate would come for them, rode away from the scene toward Broadford, hoping to arrive by noon, uncertain of what fate awaited him. Something wasn’t right.

Anneliese

The party entered Broadford shortly before the sun began to sink into the horizon. They announced their destination at the gate; Cici even showed her wrick, verifying her identity. Anneliese explained who she was, and the gate guard immediately opened. He bowed to her as she entered. As quickly as she could, she explained the dangers that had tailed them, and how something was moving up the canyon toward Broadford.

They crossed over the bridge leading into the main city, past the chutes and channels that directed the seasonal flood waters. They soon arrived at the palace, a sprawling complex of glass and steel that seemed more fit in a dwarven citadel or a human park than an elven city. She supposed it was a fair assessment, as Broadford was probably the least elven city in Caphon.

The city guards escorted them to the Governor, a tall, stately man who was a personal friend of Anneliese’s father. He welcomed her with a warm embrace. “The sun is truly jealous, my daughter.” He said, a respectful elven greeting for one who was like family.

She smiled back. “Only because you’re here, my father.”

The Governor smiled. “Your grace does you credit, and your parents as well.”

Anneliese managed a bow.

“Where are my manners!” exclaimed the Governor. “You must be exhausted, and starving. Come, you and your friends. Eat with me. Tell me everything.”

They complied gratefully.

Sweet apple wine, with light hints of cinnamon, sparkled her taste buds. The smell of warm, buttered bread, fresh from the ovens, mingled with the succulent spicy sting of hot roast waterfowl. She attempted to keep her table manners in check, but craved to taste every morsel. She almost allowed herself to forget the troubles of the day. She reached out and handled the cool glass of her wine and was just placing it to her lips when the Governor asked.

“Forgive me for intruding with such unpleasant topics, but tell me,” he paused, “what is happening? We have lost all contact with Alon.”

Anneliese saw Janus flinch, then seemingly steel himself. He sipped his wine, watching her over the top of his glass. The moment their eyes met, he flicked his gaze to Cici. The human was leaning over the table, turkey leg in one hand, goblet in the other.

She gesticulated with the cup. “Alon is dead.” She said, bluntly.

The Governor’s eyes furrowed, Anneliese wasn’t sure if from Cici’s statement or her manners. He apparently wasn’t used to having a dirty, rude, ill-mannered human at his meals.

Anneliese would have liked to let Cici continue to weasel her way into his “good” graces, but time was fleeting. “Trust me, your grace, what she says is almost certainly true. Several days ago…” was it three days, two? Everything had blurred. She couldn’t remember exactly. “… Rift was sacked and razed to the ground. We fled.”

“Wait. Rift has fallen? How?”

“Wyvern, ghouls, creatures I’ve never seen before.” Replied Anneliese. “One in our party managed to take down one wyvern.”

“Who? This elf?”

“No…” replied Anneliese, perhaps too quickly. “an orc who saved us – his name was Grunt.”

“Was?”

“Yes.” She replied, sadly. “He gave his life in order to rescue us when we were ambushed.”

“Ambushed? Where?” asked the Governor.

“In the canyon. We were seeking shelter in a house he had built…”

“In the canyon? No one builds there. That’s the most foolish thing you can do. The floods alone prevent --!”

Cici stood with a start, her chair tottering over backwards. She slammed a furious fist on the table. “Don’t you dare call him a fool! He did more for this world than any stinking elf!”

Janus was up in a moment. He place a hand on her shoulder. “Calm down…”

She swept his hand off her. “You calm down. This tottering old elf just called Grunt a fool!”

Janus quailed.

The Governor held up his hands. “I meant no offense.” Guards appeared at the door, looks of stern concern on their faces. He waved them back to their positions. “I merely am stating what anyone would think. The canyon is an inhospitable place. Even the natives didn’t live on the valley floor, at least permanently. They built their cities in the walls.”

Anneliese tried to calm things down. “Your grace, we know this. But the orc had plans and defenses. I’m sure he had figured something else for the flooding. We never got a chance to see. We

were attacked and the cabin was burnt down around us. It was Grunt – that’s the orc – who saved us by throwing Cici out the door and getting Janus into a safe spot before the building collapsed on him. He wasn’t able to get out in time. Did he, by chance, make it here?”

“I’m afraid not…”

Cici folded her arms angrily across her chest and scowled across the table at their host.

“My friend here was his adopted daughter. She’s taken it hard.”

Cici just continued to scowl.

“What can I do?”

“We’re being followed, and we fear the armies that sacked Rift are currently tied up with conquering Alon. If we can get to Caphon, then maybe we can prevent this nation from falling as well.”

The Governor steepled his hands and absently touched them to his lips. He thought for a moment, then folded his hands together and placed them on the table. “This is ill news you bring, indeed. I assume you brought some proof.”

Anneliese shrugged. “Other than our word, no.”

The Governor sighed. “I can’t panic my people without due cause. I can get you to Caphon, of course, but… I don’t know what sort of response or rescue we can muster for the Alonians. None have reached out to us for help, and we can’t just march an army up through Highpass without an excuse.”

Anneliese clutched the table in frustration. “You know we’re speaking the truth, your Grace. What evidence would convince you?”

The Governor shrugged. “Something physical – refugees, perhaps, a dragon-rider or shuttle. Something.”

Anneliese leaned forward and stretched out her hands. “Governor, there won’t be any refugees. When this enemy strikes, he annihilates everyone.”

“You escaped.”

“Yes, Cici was lucky to get out of the city – she only survived when a wyvern decided to make her his dinner. We weren’t in the city.”

“Then how did you survive?”

“We were rescued from the river by Grunt.”

“And how did this orc survive? It doesn’t like he was one to run from a fight.”

Anneliese shook her head. “We don’t know.”

The Governor took a deep breath and slowly released it. “I’ll think over what you’ve said. I’ll have my guards double the watch tonight, and I’ll tell them to ready the anti-aircraft batteries. We’re a little rusty, I’ll admit – it’s been so long since we’ve had any sort of military combat. Most of my guards have never seen a battle.”

Anneliese nodded. “I hope they don’t have to – but the armies following us – I have to believe they’ll pass through here – there’s no reason they wouldn’t.”

The Governor stood. “Stay with us tonight. I will have special lodging for you and your guardian, lady Anneliese, and the human will be well cared for as well. We’ll shuttle you on the train to Caphon first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Uh, your grace?”

“Yes?”

“Is there no train leaving tonight? We must get to the capital quickly.”

“I’m sorry, my daughter. The trains are down for the evening. If it will set your mind at ease, I will dispatch a messenger tonight. That way things can be in order for your arrival. Your father must be worried sick.”

“One more thing, my Lord?”

“Yes.”

Anneliese’s voice caught in her throat. “He’s not my guardian.”

The old elf looked back and forth between Anneliese and Janus. He then looked at Cici, who was standing aloof behind her chair. “Of course he is,” was all he replied, then motioned one of his chamberlains. “Show the elves to the Red Room, and the human maid to the Green.”

Cici was about to protest, but seemed to see that her complaints were to fall on deaf ears. She allowed herself to be led away to her room. She scowled at Janus as he and Anneliese were escorted out of the room.

The Red Room, as it was called, was appropriately named. Set off in a private wing of the palace, the room was decked with rich mahogany. Thick, luxurious carpets spanned from wall to wall, and in spite of herself, Anneliese found herself ripping off her shoes and reveling in the softness of it all.

Red blankets, red roses, even a red canopy.

Delicate carvings wound their way up the head and foot posts. In an ancient elven fashion, two

snakes interlaced their way up each post, which was intricately carved with rugged work to reflect the rough texture of a tree’s branches. The branches of the trees stretched up into the canopy of the bed. Small berries had been whittled here and there.

Anneliese was amazed. The two snakes, climbing each post, entwined themselves, forming a continuous helix. They reached the top and each coiled off down the side of the tester. Many of the details were lost under the canopy’s crimson cloth, but she saw each snake forming the swollen base of the wood frame.

Amazing. She ran a finger down the side of the bed, feeling the smooth, carved surface. Each angle and curve had been expertly smoothed and then lacquered. She flopped herself on the bed and let out a happy little groan.

She smiled. For the next hour or so, the room was hers to do with as she would. Janus was currently reporting on the defenses of Alon, as well as possible troop movements. In short, the Governor was trying to gauge just how serious a threat this new army faced. She quickly bathed, changed into more comfortable clothes, and sprawled on the thick comforter that covered the bed. She sat for a moment, feeling the relaxation settling into her body – she had been convinced that sitting on the back of the saddle would have left her with permanent scarring – but she’d barely been marked.

She toyed with her hair. It had been so long a journey – had it truly only been days ago that she had been enjoying her time in Alon? How much had changed in that time. She found her hands, sore as they were, idly braiding, and gave herself over to the trivial task. She smiled as her deft fingers swiftly wove in and out in spite of their injuries, forming out of a mass of damp hair an intricate weave. She had grown used to wearing her hair loose, or bound in a few thick sections, which she inevitably tucked as best she could behind her ears.

She finished the braiding and rose to look in the mirror. She smiled. For once this week, at least, she could consider herself pretty. The elven garb was beautiful. An undershirt of dark ebony, with gilt cuffs at the elbow – complete with matching belt, shimmered in the ambient light of the room. Over that, she had layered a long forest-green overcoat, which fastened with a golden clasp in the middle of her chest and flowed free down each side of her body. She spun, the long tails of her jacket catching the air and twirling. She brushed her hands along her dark slacks. They, too, were deep ebony, to match her shirt, and fastened with the golden belt.

She felt like a princess again. She smiled and made her way back to the bed. She gave it a test pat and flopped on it once again, feeling the thick down slowly absorb her in its warm embrace. Though she had not meant to, she soon found herself drifting off to sleep.

Janus

Distant clocks were striking eight when Janus was finally free to leave his responsibilities with the Governor. He explained all he could about Alon, their troop numbers, locations, and supplies. He had

thought it strange, and had inquired as to why the Governor was so intent on knowing so many details. A defeated enemy was a defeated enemy.

He was exhausted by the time he reached his room. The room was truly amazing – certainly a palace compared to the room where Cici was forced to stay. His mind wandered to her – wondering if she was as upset with the arrangement as he was. He looked on the bed. Anneliese was already asleep. Her long, blonde braids stretched out behind her. He sighed.

No way was he staying here.

He turned to exit, and found a guard at the door.

“May I help you, sir?” The elf asked Janus, respectfully.

“I’m just going to go out for a little bit.”

The guard shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid all residents and guests must remain in their rooms tonight.”

“We are guests of the Governor, surely there’s an exception.”

The guard peered into the room. “I trust the room is to your liking.”

“Yes, very much. But I have to go check on our other friend.”

The guard nodded. “She is fine. I showed her to her room myself. You may visit in the morning, when the curfew’s lifted.”

“Let me speak to the Governor.”

“This was by the Governor’s orders. Now, sir, I’m afraid I must ask you to return to the room.”

Janus spun on his heel and slammed the door. Anneliese stirred on the bed. “What’s going on?” She asked groggily. She fumbled for the alarm. It read 8:15 in bright green letters. She sat up. “What’s wrong?”

“Apparently, the Governor’s instituted a curfew for all residents and guests.”

“I’m sure he has a good reason. I’ve known him nearly my whole life. He’s not prone to impulse.” Anneliese leaned back down and pulled a bit of the covers over herself. “I’m fine not going out, anyway.”

Janus paced at the door. He didn’t want to be caged. Not here in the city, not here in the palace, especially not here in the Red Room with Anneliese. The Governor had insisted that he was her guard, and that by elven custom must keep perpetual watch.

What was the purpose of the stupid tradition? Had elves no decency that they forced guards to sleep in the same room as their charges? He plopped himself in a chair and folded his arms across his chest.

A voice came from across the room, half-muffled by the comforter. “They left you some new clothes. I put them in the bathroom for you.”

Janus nodded, then remembered that she couldn’t see him. “Thanks.”

He wished she’d stop talking to him, stop being nice to him, and above all – stop helping! He leaned back farther in the chair and closed his eyes, trying to filter out the racing thoughts in his head – the thoughts about Cici, of his days with Anneliese, of his people, perhaps at this very moment, fighting for their lives. But it was a losing battle. The more he fought to keep his mind in check, the more out of control it raged.

Even waking, he had begun to hear the screams. As he had talked with the Governor earlier, he had been forced to pause and compose himself. The Governor had comforted him, saying.

“I myself have made those hard choices. But sometimes the right choices are those that save the most lives.”

Janus had found little comfort in this. He didn’t know the Caphic people – save for Anneliese – and he honestly would sacrifice every one of them to save his people. Cici was Alonian; he was Alonian. Those were the only two lives that really mattered to him right now, and the other was halfway across the palace, isolated from him.

Jaffe

The day had gone splendidly for the dwarf. He had run a little late getting into Broadford, but had found the last train to the capital. It had left at 8:30, and he arrived just in time. He, his two beasts, and more liquor than he could ever hope to safely imbibe were en route to Caphon.

“Well, old boys. Let’s get some shuteye.” He said, his brain pounding happily in his skull.

Janus

He rose from the chair and locked himself in the bathroom. He sat, fully clothed, in the bathtub, and closed his eyes. The chaos of battle raged in his mind. He turned over and pressed his face against the cold, still-slightly-damp surface of the tub. It was spacious enough for him to be moderately comfortable, but he couldn’t relax. He turned on the water, hoping the white noise would sooth his mind. He sat there, water running, staring into the empty nothing of the ceiling. His eye slowly traced the patterns, forming faces and smiles, old men and other strange shapes. He knew none of them were real, but for the time being, they kept his mind off of the world as it was. He barely noticed it when the water started to rise and soak his clothes. He didn’t care anymore.

The dampness stole up his legs, and sopped into his shirt. He felt the rough shirt begin to pull on him as it absorbed the coming water like a sponge. He unbuttoned the front of his shirt and let the water pull back each side into the water. He ran his hands through his hair and began to scrub at the caked-on salt that had been deposited over the last few days. He hadn’t bathed since the inn. Cici had taken ownership of the bath they had found in the ruins, and had asked him to go explain things to Anneliese. When he had returned, she had told him it was time to leave.

He stripped off his shirt and dropped it in a slapping heap over the side of the tub. He remained in the water as it rose, still wearing his breeches. He rubbed soap into his skin, brought it to a later, and lay back in the warmth, feeling the cares slowly start to ooze from his pores. He hoped that Cici was finding a way to relax.

In the other room, an alarm sounding nine PM began to sound. It was quickly silenced. He smiled. Wonder what that was all about. There was no more motion, so he imagined Anneliese had fallen back asleep. Maybe she had meant to set the alarm to nine AM? Alonian elves never made that mistake – the sun only rose in the morning and only set at night, so the natural alarm method was flawless.

He stretched and let himself slosh down deeper in the tub. He stretched out his legs, realized he had never taken off the paper-thin-soled boots he had been wearing, and soon they, too, found their way to the floor, dripping wet and leaving pools slowly spreading across the floor.

In the distance, a clock struck ten. A knock came at the door.

“Yes?”

“Are you still alive?”

What would you care? He thought, bitterly. He folded his arms up behind his neck and sank back into the water. His clothes were finally all piled, and apparently now washed, on the floor. He wasn’t ready to get out, or go to sleep. He was too busy. Doing what, exactly, he didn’t rightly know. But he was too busy to get out right now.

“Hello?” Came the voice at the door again.

“I’m here.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, mom.”

He heard a muffled sound, like an apology, from the other side, and heard the creak of the floor as Anneliese stepped away from it. Chuckling to himself, he closed his eyes and began to see if he could fall asleep like this.

Anneliese

She sat in bed for nearly an hour, trying to sleep. She rolled over. The clock now said “eleven” in irritatingly bright green letters. Janus was still holed up in the bathroom. She assumed he had gone to sleep in there. That was fine, she told herself. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and managed to fall asleep again.

Day 5

Command: 12:30 AM

A relatively-rested looking Black-hair looked down at his command keys. He was sitting in for Keyboard, who had gone off a few hours earlier to get some sleep.

“Any way we can stop the invasion?” the Keyboard-guy had asked.

Black-hair shook his head as he rehearsed the conversation in his mind. They had been monitoring the screens – replaying every aspect of the invasion. The blood, the fire, the desperation – every screen was rank with it. He himself could almost smell the firey waves that had rolled over the horizon with the coming of the dark-skinned creatures.

“What do you want?” he asked, swiveling in his chair. He rolled over to another set of screens. “Well, that’s an interesting change. Never saw that coming. I guess there is hope for you all after all.”

Janus

Pruny didn’t begin to describe how Janus felt right now. He had fallen asleep in the tub, and throughout the night, though much of the water had drained, enough had remained to make his hands and feet more wrinkled than his grandmother’s. He stepped gingerly out of the tub and tried to dry himself off.

The pile of clothes that Anneliese had stacked in here for him were neatly placed around the sink. He slipped into them, feeling his damp flesh catch on the deep green silk. He had seen her when he had walked in. Apparently, his outfit was again very similar, just with red trim rather than gold, and a black jacket rather than a forest green one.

He slid into the new leather boots, casting a mocking glance at the pitiful ones he had been wearing the past few days. He exited the bathroom. Anneliese was sound asleep on the bed, an arm tossed up over her head. A strand of hair had come loose from her braids and was now firmly lodged in the corner of her mouth. He smiled and took a seat at the end of the bed. It was very soft.

She roused. “Hmmm… what time is it?” She spat out the hair and seemed disgusted with a taste in her mouth. She rolled over and saw the clock. “Enjoy your bath? You must be a raisin now… I’m assuming they have those in Alon?”

Before he could answer, she rolled on her side and was promptly asleep again.

He patted the bed. “Good morning, Anneliese.” He said, remembering that one morning several days earlier when he had accidentally awoken her.

He walked around the bed and pulled back the covers. He was about to climb in, paused, and then looked toward the door. No, he wasn’t sleeping on the floor again. He pushed the covers back up and climbed on top of them. He’d sleep here, not in a chair, not on the ground – but he would sleep on top of the covers. He cursed the Governor for putting him in this awkward situation, and soon fell asleep.

Anneliese

She felt the bed move slightly, and pretended to stir in her sleep. She rolled over and made a noise, feigning slumber. She dared to open a single eye. She smiled into the blanket. Janus had climbed on top of the blanket and had fallen asleep.

She snuggled up against her pillow and faded off into sleep again.

Governor

He had ruled this city for nearly thirty years. And now, as he strolled out along the walls of his Broadford, his mind clouded with what he must do in order for it to survive. Broadford sat at a crucial junction between the various bends and splits of the Alonhill, which flowed off to the west and south. Broadford formed the hub of all river traffic in this corner of Caphon. Ships sailed up the Lower Bend and stopped to trade supplies, sometimes ship it off to Caphon by rail or Highpass by road. Travelers from the West would migrate up the Upper Bend and then use the canals to reach the South by river. It was a perfect and strategic spot.

It was also militarily a staging ground should war ever break out between Erdun, with its major cities of Ravenna and Bark to the west and Alon or the other dwarven lands to the far east. A subterranean network connected Broadford and Cog, then on to the other dwarven cities to the west. Trade, war, smuggling – Broadford was the hub, perhaps rivaled only by the city of Caphon itself.

He stared out over the fields of the countryside. The land around here was fertile and rich – some of the best farmland for leagues around. He sighed sadly and leaned against a defensive turret. Its guns were large and powerful, made of the finest weapons-grade metals, harvested and forged by the most skilled dwarven smiths.

It had been a crowd-pleasing move when he had ordered the installation of these turrets so many years ago – he had never thought or even imagined that he’d ever have to use them. Yet, if things didn’t go as planned, it appeared he would have no choice.

A dark shape appeared in the darkness. The Governor started in alarm. “So, what news?”

“The agreement was debated… and your offer was deemed… most generous.”

“So the city will be safe?”

“A show of force is… necessary.” Came a dark, cold voice from the inside of a hood.

“What do you mean? Were the terms not satisfactory?”

“A sacrifice to any god must be made. How much more to the one true lord of this earth? Are you willing to show your true loyalties?”

The Governor reeled. It had been going so well. All had been progressing as planned. He pursed his lips. “And what is this sacrifice?”

“You’ll see.”

“Do I have your word you’ll spare the city?”

Dark gleams glared at him from beneath the hood. “Do you not trust us?”

The Governor remained silent.

“All will be as we agreed. The city will be spared.”

“And the citizens? What good is the city if the people are not spared as well?”

“You must trust our wisdom, good leader.”

That was the problem. The Governor didn’t trust these newcomers at all. They had promised their protection, but he felt uneasy. Something … smelled wrong about them.

“So do we have a deal? We defend your city, and you grant the Wakening access?” A hand extended from the long, flowing cloak. The Governor nodded, and took the hand. He gasped at how cold it was; it felt thin as bone.

Swiftly, the gloved hand retreated into the cloak, and the form vaulted off the wall. It landed heavily at the base of the wall and then vanished into the forest.

He turned and made his way back down into the city. The Wakening would arrive at sunrise. This city would not fall to whatever had razed Rift. If Caphon didn’t make unfortunate alliances as well, she’d burn with her sister.

“Governor,” he whispered to himself, “be you for your people?”

Anneliese

She muttered quietly to herself and peered at the clock. It had just turned 5:00 AM. She

stretched and rolled out of bed. She shuffled her way to the bathroom and eased the door shut behind her. She looked in the mirror, half-conscious. Her hair, so well-braided the previous night, now hung in clumps against the top of her head. She ran a hand through it, knocking a thick section free. It fell across an eye. She smiled. It was an appearance she could get used to. But it didn’t do to travel half-blind. She pushed the thick strands from her face.

She smiled sleepily at her reflection. Had she gotten any sleep last night? If so, her face didn’t seem to agree. She splashed handfuls of water on her face and looked back at the reflection. Water pooled and trickled down the creases and off her chin into the sink. Her face seemed narrower. In fact, her whole form seemed thinner. She noticed a sad glint in her eyes that she hadn’t seen before. It was as if an older person had moved in, displacing her soul in the process.

She breathed out slowly and gripped the countertop. She was so close… so close to seeing what the future held for Caphon. Would her people be safe? Would she arrive in time? She shook her head; her hair fell free of her ears again and dropped down in front of her in a long, blonde curtain. She pushed it back out of her face and took a final look at herself in the mirror.

She changed out of her bed-clothes and into the fancy clothes the Governor had provided her. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and secured her hairs into place again, then exited the bathroom.

Janus was standing there. He’d fallen asleep in all his clothes. They were wrinkled, and his hair was all over a mess. He smiled at her. She smiled back, and was tempted to wink, just to mess with him. But she restrained herself and slid past him, brushing him slightly in the process. She felt him physically constrict.

“Anneliese.”

She looked back over her shoulder and nodded. “Yes?”

“What happened between us?”

She sighed heavily and shrugged. “Nothing, I guess.” She’d only known him for a short time. But something about their relationship felt deeper, as if more than just a few days had passed. She shook her head. She was overthinking everything, putting stock in situations that were nothing… She fumbled for words. “I—I thought something was about to – but apparently you decided otherwise.”

Janus paused long enough for Anneliese to fully turn around. When he apparently finished thinking, he started to speak, paused as if he thought better of it, then started again. “I’m not sure it’s totally accurate.”

Her heart sighed. Part of her wanted to stop the conversation right there and climb into bed and go back to sleep before things got difficult, but something in her replied, perhaps a little more anxious

than she intended. “What isn’t accurate about it?” She told herself to be quiet, yet her mouth continued unassisted, “You overreacted and apologized. I was hurt; I overreacted; I apologized. Both of us – overreacting to things that deeply hurt us, and driving away someone we loved…” She paused, Stupid! “That’s all it was.”

“Love?”

She paused. He’d caught it. Had she really just said it? She thought back over her words, rehearsing each syllable. She cursed herself. Well, no used hiding it now. “Yah, I guess so…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Anneliese scoffed and shrugged. “I—I dunno. It just came out.”

Janus nodded. “All those times… I prayed for a conversation like this. I was scared; I was stupid” He paused, then seemed to shift directions. “But whatever, you shut me out.”

She groaned inwardly and sank onto the bed. What was he saying? That this was her fault? “I’ve apologized for that. I can’t take it back.”

He nodded. “I know. I’m just telling you what drove me away. We’ve already talked about this. I’m sure you don’t want to rewatch that movie.”

She laughed, eager to change the topic. “Do they even have movies in Alon?”

“No.” he replied, more soberly than she had thought. “There’s nothing in Alon.”

She scrambled for purchase. “You don’t know that.” She began, but he interrupted her.

“I’ve moved on, Anne,” he said with an aire of finality. She looked up at him.

His sudden use of her shortened name startled her for a moment. The cautious, self-conscious boy that had spent the first day of their time together calling her “my lady” and guarding her like an overprotective parent was now a distant, casual adult. This hurt her more than she had thought possible. Tears leapt unbidden to her eyes. Apparently she hadn’t been the only one to grow old because of this trip. “Yah, I guess everyone’s moved on…” Except me.

“I never meant to hurt you…” he muttered.

“Why do you keep saying that?” she replied, half to herself.

“What?” he seemed completely caught off guard, a sleep-walker awakened from a trance.

“You’ve said that before – ‘I never meant to hurt you…’ – are you saying it for my sake or to make your conscience feel better about itself? Because is sure as the pit doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“I’m sorry—“

She sat up and waved a dismissive hand at him, using the other to suddenly adjust something about eye level so he wouldn’t see her tears. “Save it, Janus. Just make your choice and go with it. Stop looking back and saying things like that. If you’re not willing to turn around, then you’re not sorry. You’re sorry you hurt me, maybe; sorry you made me angry or made me cry,” her voice cracked, “but you’re not sorry you made the choice you did!”

All she wanted to do was to rise from the bed and stick a single finger into his chest and scream, but she turned instead and faced the opposite wall, saying quietly, “So stop apologizing unless you plan to make things right. It only makes it worse for me.”

The self-conscious, cautious boy returned. He seemed at a loss for words. “M-my lady.”

She bit her lip, rolled out of the bed and swept out the door before he could stop her. She heard a shocked “Anne—!” as the door closed. She couldn’t face him right now. Tears streaming from her eyes, her heart wrenching this way and that, she strode down the hall, ignoring the fact that the guard was absent.

Janus

The elf flopped on the bed and sprawled out, staring up at the red canopy hanging above him. “What have I done…” he muttered. Had he failed that badly at life? He waited a moment, then got up the nerve to follow her out.

He never imagined that single heated discussion would save both of their lives, as a single explosive would collapse the entire room not five minutes later.

Cici

Two explosions rang out across the busy city of Broadford. Cici’s room, resplendent in its blue decorations, went up in angry red flames. She turned back to the palace and watched, aghast, as plumes of acrid black smoke billowed from the wound where she had been not half an hour earlier.

The other explosion had come from the other wing. Two large gouts of flame jetted from the building, and soon afterwards, pillars of ash and smoke marked the act. Cici vanished as best she could into the crowd. She was still wearing the clothes from her travels – she hadn’t been given anything new. She had taken a bit of time last night to wash them as best she could, and had even tried her hand at repairing the several rips and tears that her adventures had opened.

The crowds were shrieking in alarm and swarming this way and that. She tried desperately to keep up with at least some of them. Whoever had planted those explosives had known where she had been staying, and apparently another person as well – for it seems as if all the destruction had been consolidated to just those two spots.

She checked her wrick. It was six in the morning. She was amazed at how many crowds there were this early. Before the explosions, there had been a carnival-like atmosphere; and she had tried to think if there were some holiday she had forgotten about. She couldn’t think of one.

She rushed to the train station.

“Sorry, miss, no trains today.”

“What do you mean, no trains today?”

“Due to the Governor’s orders, all trains not out by midnight were put on indefinite delay.”

“That can’t be right.” She responded. “He told us specifically that today was the earliest we could catch the train to Caphon.”

The ticket master shrugged. “Sorry, ma’am. I don’t know what to say. Last train left around eight or eight-thirty last night. We have one leaving tomorrow at six in the morning if you’re interested, if Governor lifts the restriction.”

She shook her head. “Nah, I don’t need a stupid train.”

Someone walked past, and she heard whispered conversation that caused her ears to perk up. “Did you hear, someone assassinated the newcomers?”

“Apparently there was a spy in the palace…” the other companion responded. “Knew exactly where everyone was sleeping.”

“How does that kind of thing happened? Who were they?”

“One was an ambassador from Caphon –“

“I heard she was the princess!”

“Really?”

“Yes, and I heard the other one was her betrothed – from Alon.”

“What about the human girl?”

“Apparently, she was one of their servants. Where did they come from? And on a raptor! Who rides those things anymore?”

They continued in this hushed conversation, but were soon too far away for Cici to hear much of what they were saying. Without a further word to the ticket master, she rushed down the street and tried to find them. She rounded the corner where they had vanished – and they were gone! An empty street, lined on each side with beautiful shrubs, newly in blossom, was all that stretched out before her.

Off in the distance, a cross street buzzed with traffic.

She was thoroughly confused and thoroughly lost. She backtracked to the ticket counter, but the man was busy with other customers. They seemed rather irritated that all trains had been shut down without proper warning.

Cici slipped off through the crowds toward the stables. It was nearly a half-hour’s hike across Broadford, and Claw was at the far end of the city. She took off at a run.

Anneliese

Her heart was tired of breaking, and so had made the executive decision for both of them to stop feeling altogether. Numb from hurt and the events of the past week, Anneliese had shoved her way out of the palace. Before she could reach the street, however, Janus had grabbed her. He had been saying something – she wasn’t listening.

Suddenly, she couldn’t hear. For a moment, a moment that passed so suddenly that once it was over, she couldn’t remember what had happened, her ears shut down and her brain began to buzz. Her vision clouded and she saw something she couldn’t explain. Memories that were not her own began to rise in the back of her mind, then all vanished.

“Are you all right?”

Anneliese looked at him. He had grabbed her. “Of course I’m all right. Let me go.” She wrenched her arm free.

Janus tried to speak, but a buzzing interrupted him again. Anneliese shook her head again, trying to clear it. It was stress. She was just exhausted and stressed out.

“Let’s get to the train depot.”

Then came the explosions. One ripped the Red Room from its supports and sent the remains of their quarters collapsing into the floors below. It was close enough that they felt the heat, and Janus instinctively threw himself over her as fragments of the Palace collapsed around them. The gardens, where Janus had grabbed Anneliese, were now littered in reddish-black shards of wood and metal. The bathroom disintegrated, raining shards of porcelain and marble down onto the two of them.

Janus rolled himself off of Anneliese and propped himself up on an elbow, wiping blood off his face.

Several guards were staggering out of the palace. One had been impaled by a large piece of wood. He tromped a few heavy steps away from the flaming building and flopped to the ground.

Anneliese rushed to his side. He gasped wetly. “You’re alive! Thank heavens!” He sputtered blood; then lay still.

Janus grabbed Anneliese by her arm again. “My lady, we’ve got to go.”

She threw off his hand. “I’m not your princess! I’m not your damsel in distress. Go find Cici if you want to do something useful! Her room was probably the other explosion.”

Janus’s face went white, and he rushed toward the building.

“No!”

He stopped.

“There’s no way she was in her room. Go check the stables – they’re closest. If she’s not there, I’ll meet you at the train.”

Janus nodded, absently, and rushed off in the fleeing crowd.

Anneliese looked up into the flaming holocaust raging above her. There could be survivors. She had to check. She darted up the palace stairs and into the smoky building. One guard was unconscious by the entrance. The explosion had knocked him off his feet and cracked his head against the wall. She could see a hole in the plaster, about seven feet up.

Something about that confused her, as if angles or… something… was off. She rushed over and snatched up the fallen guard. She dragged him out the front entrance and laid him on the steps. She motioned another guard to come carry him the rest of the way.

She rushed back in, to the protests of the guard outside. He had said something about it not being safe. The way she remembered it, this entire building was built on a powerful substructure of steel. A single room may burn, or even collapse if subjected to enough strain – but the building had no risk of that. There were also firewalls installed in each wing, so that if one began to burn, it wouldn’t spread to the others. All she had to do was clear this wing and get them to the safety of another.

Her quest turned up few survivors. The flames had already begun to migrate from her old room, consuming two of the adjacent ones and the one above it. She scoured the hallways for what seemed like hours, but for what she, in reality, knew was only ten minutes at best.

She finally broke out of the side wing and helped one other guard to his feet. He smiled when he saw her alive. “Princess, you’re alive! Oh, the Governor will be so happy!”

“Where is the Governor?” She asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s been gone since morning.”

“It is morning.”

“Since before morning. I don’t know if he even went to bed last night.”

She scowled. “Well, let’s get you out of here.”

Janus

He felt cowardly leaving Anneliese to clear the burning building, but what could he do? He rushed down to the stables, which were on the south side of the city. The groom was busy with a horse, so Janus found himself searching the sprawling complex for Cici and Claw. He rounded a corner and quickly pulled himself back.

A dark form stood, talking to the assistant groom. Janus waited. The groom and the dark form conversed back and forth for a short bit, and then the former handed over the reins to a tall, stately mount. The horse nickered in fright, attempting fruitlessly to pull away from the dark-cloaked man. The hooded man mounted the beast and rode away into the forest.

Janus waited until the groom was gone, then slipped down the bank of stalls until he found Claw. The raptor spun and rushed him. He felt a primal fear grip his heart as the massive, sharp-toothed beast charged, mouth agape, teeth ready for the kill.

Claw stopped and a long, wet, sticky tongue slowly wrapped itself around Janus’s face. He had forgotten about the blood. “Good boy.” He said, his mouth muffled. He pried the thick, nasty tongue off and petted Claw on the head. The tongue lapped out again, and he cringed as the sandpaper-like surface caught the side of his face.

A shiver of disgust ran through his body. He unfastened the latch on the door and guided the raptor out. He mounted him and vanished from the stable, to the vain protests of the groom, who angrily waved a pitchfork at him.

The citizens were in chaos. The explosions had shaken them to the core. Already, soldiers and police officers were closing on the palace. Men had been dispatched for water from the rivers. Janus rode past and continued on toward the train station. He heard someone calling out to him. It was Cici. She pushed her way toward him.

He dismounted and embraced her. “You’re all right!”

“Of course I am!” she replied, then continued. “The trains have all been canceled today, by order of the Governor.”

“What do you mean? Is it because of the bombings?”

“No, he made the call last night!”

A loud whine came across the city’s PA system. They stopped and stared at one of the screens located in every major intersection. The Governor’s face came into focus. He looked out over his citizens, deep lines of concern tracing his face. He frowned. “My friends…”

Cici elbowed Janus in the side. He winced. “What?”

“We need to get out of here, now. We can’t hide when we have Claw.”

“What about Anneliese?”

“She’ll have to fend for herself.” She grabbed him by the hand, gave a light whistle to the raptor, and the three of them vanished down a nearby alley. “That was really stupid, bringing Claw here. He’s not exactly subtle.”

“… as you know, this morning our city was viciously attacked. Ambassadors from Rift, Alon, and Caphon were intentionally targeted. We have yet to discern why. But rest assured, we will get to the bottom of this, and bring the guilty parties to justice. As of now, I’m declaring martial law. This city will be under lockdown until the perpetrators of this vile act are caught and prosecuted.”

A cry of protest rose up.

“Rest assured. No harm will come to any of you. If anyone knows the whereabouts of the three visitors that came into the city last night – reports have stated they survived the explosion and have been seen around town – please inform local authorities. We must assure their safety.”

As he continued to speak, Cici grabbed Janus by the hand and shoved him against the wall of the back alley. “Where is Anneliese?”

“She went back into the fire.”

Cici punched him and swore. “Idiot. Did she tell you to meet her somewhere?”

Janus thought for a moment. “She told me to go check for you at the stables, and then meet her at the train depot.”

“Which is the first place they’ll look.” Cici swore again, then muttered. She looked back up at Janus, a serious fire in her eyes. “We’ve got to find her. She’ll be walking into a trap!”

“And how do we do that? Claw isn’t exactly subtle.”

Cici snapped her fingers. Claw looked up. She whistled strangely, then clapped her hands. The raptor sprinted off down the alley.

“What was that?”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on, we’ll keep to the shadows.”

The transmission was still blaring across the city. “… they mean no harm. As no other nation has been able to reach us in time – they have taken it upon themselves to lend their aid. They simply require the physical supplies and volunteers to help them with their assignments. Any volunteers who are

willing should meet…”

His voice became a distant thrum as the two darted in and out of alleys, sprinting through back doors and using fire escapes to climb to higher levels in some buildings. Interconnecting catwalks made traversing the city easier than Janus had originally thought.

“This way!” Cici pulled him across a rooftop and dropped to the ground. “There.”

On the other side of the street, two vehicles had stopped. They were apparently military. Large cannons were mounted on the back. “What do you think they plan to do with those?”

“Wyvern? I dunno. What are they doing?”

“Questioning that person, looks like.” As they watched, the soldiers stopped talking and roughly shoved the man into the vehicle.

“What do you think he did?” Asked Janus.

“No idea. Looks like they aren’t taking chances, though. Look.” She pointed to another soldier, who was currently holding back the crowds from the sidewalk. His gun was drawn, and though it hung off a shoulder, it was nonetheless making a statement. It said. “this doesn’t concern you. Don’t interfere.”

Several soldiers piled out of one of the vehicles and stormed a nearby storefront. Windows shattered, gunfire erupted, and people outside scattered in panic. Soon, the soldiers returned, dragging several bleeding bodies with them. These were loaded into the trucks, and they sped off.

“Let’s go. I don’t want to see what’ll happen when they catch Anneliese.”

“They wouldn’t hurt her?” It was more of a question than a statement. The uncertainty was thick in his voice.

Cici looked at him suspiciously, then answered. “No, at least not publicly. Something’s rotten in this place.”

They darted off the building and made their way farther toward the train depot, all the while watching for the blonde elf. Still no sign of her.

Janus was beginning to worry. Had she already been picked up? As if interpreting his thoughts, Cici shook her head. “They haven’t found her; don’t worry. We’d know if she’d been found. The Governor would love to let people know how good they were in turning her in. Stupid people.”

“They don’t realize they’re wrong.” Replied Janus.

“Heh… they don’t want to care.” She replied. “They follow what they’re told because to do

otherwise would involve caring.”

“They care.”

“Really, then why aren’t they doing anything?”

“They’re scared.”

“If those cowards don’t care enough to react against what’s happening – they don’t care.”

They made their way down the side of the building across from the depot. People were protesting and complaining. “Typical” spat Cici.

“What?”

“Inconvenience them and they riot; take away the less-visible freedoms and they fall into line like sheep.”

Janus was going to retort, but realized he wouldn’t win. He changed the subject. “See her?”

“Not yet. She won’t come here. She’ll see this mess and go elsewhere.”

“Where?”

Cici shrugged. “If I thought like her… maybe head for the north gate? Other than that – no idea. She’s trying to get home… maybe steal a horse from the northern stables? Maybe steal a car. I don’t know!”

Janus hadn’t known her long. He couldn’t predict her actions much better than Cici. If he were trying to get home, he would rush straight out and go. But he suspected Anneliese of being more clever. He shrugged. “I don’t know either. Let’s head north and see what we find.”

“Stay low.” The two vanished back into the alleys.

“Citizens of Broadford. This is your Governor speaking. I come to you with heavy news.”

Janus’s heart leapt into his throat. He and Cici paused and pressed themselves behind a dumpster to listen.

“Apparently we have been betrayed. Some of your fellow-citizens have been rounded up. They confessed to the terrorist activity on the palace this morning. With their help, the ambassadors blew up their own rooms.”

Janus heard a nearby citizen laugh out loud and speak words that mirrored his own thoughts. “Doesn’t sound reasonable. Why would they blow up their own rooms?”

As if foreseeing this question, the voice continued. “The ambassadors were not found in their rooms. They had left a considerable time beforehand. The terrorism was a distraction so they could scout the city with little oversight. We are still unsure of their motivations. If you have any information concerning their location, please report it to the nearest authority.”

“They believe that?” asked Cici. “Ridiculous logic.”

“Apparently it’s good enough. We’d better not take the chance.” They silently slipped from the alley and continued toward the northern gate.

“What if Anneliese isn’t there?” asked Janus.

“We have no choice at this point. We’re fugitives. We’ll have to flee and come back for her once we get Caphon on our side.”

“Are you serious? What makes you think they’d believe us? These people didn’t – and they tried to kill us!” For once, Cici didn’t have an answer. Janus pressed on. “Though, perhaps it wasn’t the Governor who tried to have us killed.”

“Did you have guards on your door?”

Janus nodded. “I tried to come see you, but wasn’t allowed to leave.”

“I’m sure that was terrible for you…” replied Cici, sarcastically. “I couldn’t leave either.” She continued, then stopped, pressing Janus against the side of the alley. “Soldiers.”

Three armored tank-like vehicles rumbled past. As soon as they had disappeared around the next corner, the two rushed across the street and into the opposite alley.

“Are you jealous?” asked Janus.

“Of Anneliese? No. But now’s not the time to argue about bedside manner.”

The northern gate of the city loomed ahead of them. One long, broad road stretched out to it. Market stalls and shops lined each side of the road. A set of stairs sank down beneath the street – and Underground or perhaps tramway of some kind. It was busy, to say the least.

“Well this is just great…” muttered Cici.

Janus peered out. Soldiers milled about, checking identification at random. The large doors had already been sealed shut. Two shuttles hovered above the gates, clearly keeping watch … for what, Janus could only guess. Large cannons had been dragged onto the walls, and already, armed soldiers had begun moving along the parapets.

“Are they expecting a full-blown siege? What could possibly attack from the north?”

Cici shook her head. “Absolutely nothing. Any army moving between the three cities would draw the attention of everyone. No logical attack would ever come from the north. That’s the safest spot. You can’t even get there easily without passing through Highpass. And if Highpass were under attack, Caphon would know, as well as Broadford.”

“You don’t think…” began Janus.

Cici shook her head. “No. It makes not logistical sense. The army followed us through the canyon – why would it then sweep back and through the mountains to attack Highpass? It wouldn’t have time for one thing. It would take weeks to move an army through the pass.”

“Unless they flew there.”

Cici seemed to think for a moment. “How many wyvern would it take to fly an entire army to Highpass?”

“I shudder to think it.”

“That would explain the air defense… What is Caphon going to do?”

Janus shrugged. “Attack or no attack – we have to find Anneliese and get to Caphon – on the off chance that they haven’t been warned.”

They observed the troop movements for a pattern or weakness for several more minutes, moving alley to alley to get a better vantage. Janus was uncertain about Caphic geography, so asked “What’s farther to the west? I mean, beyond the borders of Caphon?”

“Erdun, a thick forest nation – mostly dwarves, I think. I’ve never been farther than Dunwast. Why?”

“If the armies aren’t stopped here, what would they go for next?”

Cici shrugged. “I don’t know what they even want here!” She turned her attention farther up the street. “Hold on, follow me.”

They rushed down the alley, past garbage bins and refuse, scaring a cat here and a small group of rats there. They crunched over old pieces of something plastic, until finally finding themselves behind a large concrete barricade.

“What is it?”

“There.”

Across the road, covered in a long, dark shawl, was something they hadn’t seen before. A narrow, skeletal set of fingers pushed back a hood. It looked human. It also looked like a ghoul. But it

was perfectly in control of its faculties. The creature’s face was drawn, almost in a mummified level of thinness, as if every drop of water had been drained from the skin, leaving it tightly bound against the contours of the bone.

Two glowing eyes sat in the hollow face. They panned the street, as if expecting someone. Periodically, the thing barked out orders, and the soldiers grudgingly obeyed. One thing was clear. They weren’t crazy about working with this thing. But obey they did.

The creature panned the streets again. From here to the wall, there was no one else, other than the soldiers. Civilians were giving this section of road a wide berth.

This could either be a great help or a horrible trap. Cici placed a hand on Janus’s arm. “Come on, this way.”

The creature had turned to examine something new. A soldier had appeared wearing high-office markings. He held out a paper to the creature and produced a pen. Apparently it was a treaty or contract of some sort.

Cici tugged his hand even harder. “Come on. We’ve got to move.”

Janus pulled out of her hand. “We can’t leave.”

“What do you mean?”

“Anneliese – we can’t leave without her.”

“Don’t be stupid, Janus. She can fend for herself. Besides, in a city this big – we aren’t going to find her without help.”

Janus hesitated. Cici pressed her advantage.

“We have to go. The guards are thin on that section of wall right there. If we don’t go, now, we will be caught, and we will die. They’re not keeping us for ransom – there’s no one who would pay. Our people are all dead.”

“Namore will be fighting back…”

“Whoever he is, if he lived in Alon, he’s dead!”

With a heavy heart, Janus followed her up the staircase onto the upper section of the wall. Several guards had just passed, and there was a minute, at most, opening. They sped along the parapet, their boots slapping against the metal flooring, and hoisted themselves over the side. Janus went first, diving into a nearby tree and waiting, balanced gracefully on the higher bows, as Cici jumped. She landed in his arms. He knelt. “Climb on.”

He felt a thrill as she latched her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. His mind temporarily fogged over.

“What are you waiting for?” She asked, giving him a squeeze with her legs. “Go! Before they come back!”

He hoisted himself down from the tree and dropped to the ground. They began to run through the trees. Then the alarms began to sound.

Anneliese

Her blonde hair trailing in long streamers behind her, the elf maid swept around the edge of the road and vanished into the alley. The announcement that they had been the terrorists had just sounded across the city-wide PA. She had only made it to the river when the looks had started. The looks gave way to whispering, then to following. That’s when she had decided to run.

Then came the news that she was wanted for terrorism. It was then that she had begun to slip in and out of alleys, doubling her way back toward the river as things took a turn for the worst. Soldier patrols ramped up along the city streets, and the civilians began to take refuge in their homes.

She slipped into the back of a discount clothing store and lifted a few outfits off the shelves, swiftly changing into them before anyone realized what was happening. She found a wool cap, into which she stuffed as much of her hair as possible. She hid the rest of her items in her bag and began to make her way out the store.

“Ma’am.” Her heart stopped in her chest. Fear reached out with icy grip and seized her violently in the chest. “I’m going to have to see your bag.”

She turned. It was the shopkeeper. Quivering, she opened the satchel. “Thought so.”

She stood there for a moment. The shopkeeper returned to his counter and pulled out a small computer. “Come here, please.”

She thought about running, but decided her best bet was to be close to the shopkeeper. If anything, she could overpower him if he began to contact the authorities.

“I run a respectable business here, miss. It may not look it.”

Where was he going with this?

“When I saw the contents of your bag, that sealed it for me.”

What did he mean?

“You didn’t think I’d be interested, did you?”

“What?” she gasped aloud.

“I’ll give you one hundred mynx for the lot.”

Her heart started again, and she breathed out a visible sigh of relief. She smiled. “It’s such a relief to hear you say that.”

“If I may ask, where did you get them? They’re beautiful.”

She nodded. “They were a gift, but we fell out, if you know what I mean. I can’t be seen wearing them anymore.”

“Ex-lover? I know how hard it must be.”

“Yah, something like that.” She bluffed. “You know what, you can just have them. I don’t want the money. You’ve done enough for me.”

“No, you must take something.” He fished in the drawer for several twenty-mynx coins.

“No,” she replied. “Take them. Oh, I have to go!”

“Fine. But take this. I can’t take them for free.” He stuffed fifty mynx into her hand. She slid them in her pocket and took her leave.

With that, she rushed out of the store and dashed toward the docks. One river entered the city from the northwest. It was often called simply the North Bend, though it truly had nothing to do with the Alonhill, which entered from the East. The South Bend was the confluence of the North Bend and Alonhill, and flowed off to the south… toward… she thought about it as she ran. She had no idea what lay to the south of Broadford. Off to the north was Caphon, to the east, Alon, and to the west, Erdun. But she had no idea what was to the south.

It didn’t matter now. She wouldn’t be benefitted at all heading south, so she had to make sure the water was flowing into the city. Only then would she know that she was along the North Bend. She could follow that out and then head off on foot toward Caphon.

She saw the canals up ahead, knew they connected to the river somewhere near the wall, and began to move in that direction, trying her best to blend into the crowd. No one seemed to notice her. Nor were they looking for a person matching her description. It was hard to even tell she was an elf, save for her delicate nature, and the clothing was loose enough to cover her curves, so she hoped her gender would also be hidden as well.

To most, she imagined she just looked like any other human – feminine looking, but with few distinguishing characteristics. For many, if they thought she was an elf, then perhaps they’d assume her male, as the running joke had been that there was little difference above the neck between the genders. The stereotype had offended her in the past. Now, she welcomed and even encouraged it.

She even tried to acquire a slight limp to her stride, and kept her hands pulled up inside her long sleeves. Her sweater was grey wool. It was hot, but she didn’t mind as long as it drew attention away from her long enough for her to slip away.

In case of emergency, she had smuggled her knives. They were currently strapped tightly against her waist with a leather belt she had found in the clothing shop. She felt bad for stealing, but rationalized that the clothing she had traded had more than paid for what she had taken. She continued to navigate the maze of streets that wove in and out past the canals. The sun was reaching high noon by now, and then began to descend. She needed to get out of the city, soon.

Here and there, she began to see large armored vehicles moving through the streets, many soldiers trailing after. Dark, hooded shapes that reminded her of the creature in the woods also began to appear. But they were skeletal and not dark-skinned. Rather, they were pale as bone, with tightly-stretched skin that looked devoid of all life. But the eyes – the horrible eyes! They glowed with a hellish fire, as if the very flames of the pit had been formed into a single living ember and shoved into each socket.

The probing eyes swept here and there, seeming to take everything in. Seeming to see through clothing, concrete, and skin.

She avoided the soul-searching eyes by keeping a building between herself and them whenever they appeared. She wasn’t going to be found out this close to the city walls.

She trudged along for nearly another hour. The sun was in the three-o’clock position when she finally reached the wall. Civilians had long since faded away. Now, between her and freedom was a water-gate, sealed shut for protection, a few dozen soldiers, a tank-like vehicle, and at least three of those dark-robed things.

She sat for nearly a half-hour, watching the patrol route, when alarms began to ring. Automated messages reported activity at the northern walls. Several soldiers began to move to their vehicles, making as if to follow the directives and maneuver themselves to the north, in case of invasion. Even the dark creatures seemed distracted for a moment.

It was all Anneliese needed. She rushed past the distracted guards and tossed herself in the river, pulling off the heavy woolen sweater as she did. Her blouse was the ebony doublet she had received as a gift. She had been loath to surrender it.

She was spotted. “There she is!” Came a cry from one of the soul-searchers.

Cold water met her. Thankfully, the current wasn’t strong here where it entered the city. It had already passed through several barricades that were designed to both act as slowing points for ships as well as control gates in the case of flooding. She swam upstream as fast as she could.

Shouts and curses rang after her as she dove under the water. She slipped out of her boots soon after hitting the river and made her way under the water gate. It hadn’t been lowered all the way to the bottom of the river – it was simply meant to keep boats out in emergency situations. Using the barricades and slow current to her advantage, she swam a short distance upstream before breaking water.

“There! There!” Came the cry again. This time, soldiers were milling on the wall. She heard the distinct pops of gunfire, and the water announced the arrival of several rounds. One grazed her hand as she swam. She dove under again and swam until her lungs felt ready to burst. She then popped up again. She was nearing the western farmlands. She pulled her soaking body from the water, tossed free the wool cap, and sprinted toward the forest within full view of the distant wall.

She heard cracks of gunfire. They all missed. She vanished behind a bale of hay and collapsed in the dirt. Adrenaline was pulsing heavily through her veins. Her heart pounded in her chest. She tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of her shirt and wound her hand in it. She had to keep running.

She braced herself and made a run for the forest. No gunfire came near her, until suddenly an explosion rocked the ground to her left. A shuttle was slowly moving toward her, its massive turbines pummeling the air. Another rocket seemed to fall, almost lazily, toward her. She continued to run. It detonated a few feet from where she had stopped. The bale of hay she had hidden behind erupted in flames.

Another exploded a few yards in front of her, and she could feel the shrapnel piercing her clothes and body. Wincing against the pain, she pulled herself up and rushed along, blood streaming from a dozen injuries.

Soon, the shuttle was above her, maybe a hundred feet up. She could hear a minigun being hoisted into position. The forest was closer now – maybe a dozen yards. She could almost hear the belt being fed into the machine. Her throat dry with terror, she forced her legs to run as she had never forced them before.

The first tree she came to vanished beneath an avalanche of heated shot. Another tree dissolved likewise. She could feel the percussion as bullets ripped through the forest around her. She threw herself forward, leaping from tree to tree as only and elf could. The first several trees instantly dissolved in a torrent of red-hot lead. She felt a branch shatter, showering her with shards of wood.

She coughed as flames began to lick at her lungs. Another explosion rocked the forest. They were firing rockets again. She paused in a tree long enough to regain her footing before it quaked as if trying to shake her off. She saw that its lower half had blown free. Waves of violent smoke and fire consumed the remainder, driving her farther along. Content she was far enough from the forest edge for the minigun, she dropped back through the bows, nearly twisting her ankle in the process. She was now genuinely walking with a limp.

Anneliese pushed herself along, her breath coming in ragged gasps. A bullet had lodged in her upper arm, entering the flesh at the base of her shoulder and exiting out the back. She could feel numb pain throbbing through her body as the sticky blood ran down her arm. Limping, she pressed her hand over the hole, hoping to staunch the flow of blood, and fled onward.

A desperate idea rose in her mind. She whistled. She had seen Cici do it countless times to call Claw. Nothing happened. She whistled again.

Unimaginable pain began to overtake her senses. Her adrenaline was fading. Several hundred yards away, fire still raged, and periodically the burp of the gun ravaged another tree, but it was clear the shuttle had lost sight of her. Hopefully, with all the flames, any attempt to see her by infrared or other method would also be stymied. She heard the whump, whump of the turbines as the ship gave up pursuit.

Just in time, too. She flopped to the ground in agony. With her adrenaline gone, every pain swamped her. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. She toppled against a solid, tall tree and, in spite of herself, screamed in terror and pain.

Janus

Claw didn’t show up, and they didn’t have time to wait. The alarm had sounded, and a shuttle was already swinging around. Cici pointed out the minigun in the side door of the massive carrier. “I don’t want to see what that can do. We’ve got to move.”

The two sprinted off through the forest, fleeing the city of Broadford. They left it to its strange alliances and even more questionable loyalties.

As they ran, Cici finally broke her silence. She paused and held out a hand. Janus stopped. “What is it.”

The girl snatched him violently by the hand and pulled him close. She rose to meet him with her lips, and they shared a long and forceful kiss. “That was for saving my life.”

He returned the kiss. “And that was for talking sense into me.”

He pulled back, unsure of what to do next. Clearly, Cici felt the same. “Well, that was nice.” She said, awkwardly, “we need to go, now.”

They fled northward.

Anneliese

Her voice broke, and she fell sideways. Hot, stinging tears tore at her eyes. She cried for her home, for Janus, for Grunt, for Rift, for everything she had lost. She cried in pain and frustration. She cried in aggravation. Why had this happened to her? What had she done so wrong that required this

level of punishment?

She smelled the flames, nearing her every moment, and forced herself to rise. A pool of her own blood seeped into the ground as she stood. By sheer willpower she kept on her feet and hobbled through the forest, a path of red trailing her as she went.

She coughed and tasted blood. She could feel pain somewhere in her abdomen. Had she been shot elsewhere? Her hand still bled, and dozens of nicks and cuts from the shrapnel still oozed, but she hadn’t taken a bullet wound in the middle. She didn’t bother to think more of it. She needed to get help soon, or she’d die, one way or another. Something she had done had ruptured something inside her.

She whistled again, this time fainter. Something inside her felt wrong. She coughed. Blood again.

A strange hooting whistle came from somewhere ahead of her in the woods. Dark shapes moved here and there.

There was a sibilant hiss. She stumbled and coughed again. Blood splashed crimson against the forest floor.

A dark shape pulled itself from behind a tree ahead of her. It hissed ominously. She pulled herself to full height, ignoring the sharp, flaming pain that nearly rent her in two. She lifted the edge of her shirt and fumbled awkwardly for the daggers.

“Hahahaaaa…” came the deep, hissing laugh.

“Hello, sacrifice.”

She swallowed, choking against the dryness of her own throat. The only lubrication seemed to be her own blood. She wiped her lips with the side of her hand. “Come closer, since you don’t seem to know my name,” she choked, “let me introduce myself.”

“We know who you are. We are many. We have eyes everywhere.”

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded. Her hand clasped one of her daggers. She pretended to be doubling over in pain – which didn’t take much effort.

The hooded man came closer. She could see his long, pale hands reaching for her neck. She felt the long, surprisingly strong fingers slowly close around her throat. She needed to be patient. She felt the wind closing off. She felt herself being hoisted from the ground. He was strong! Far stronger than he appeared. Glowing, hellish eyes bore into her.

Now!

She whisked the dagger from her belt and lashed it along his wrist.

Crimson spurted from the pale skin. She was half-amazed he had any blood to shed. He dropped her, grasping his wrist with a scream.

With what energy she could muster, she lunged forward and buried the dagger into his throat. The hood fell back from his skeletal face, and his eyes went wide in shock. His face contorted into a gruesome grimace as he choked.

As badly as it pained her, she moved her other hand to her knives, grabbed a second, and slashed again.

Her blades fell free, and the creature staggered back, all red splattered on his white features, like a deer slain on winter’s first snowfall. She collapsed, watching in a slight thrill of pleasure mingled with disgust as the thing fell forward, hands vainly clutching at his severed throat. He flopped forward with a final hiss, blood pooling around his face.

She tried to rise again, but was too weak. Her heart thudded slowly. She felt her vision blur.

Two more forms appeared in the distance. “Janus… Cici…”

They drew nearer. More dark hoods. She was confused. “Why are you wearing that? Where’s Claw?”

Pale, rough hands seized her around the neck. She smiled sadly. “Are you that jealous, Cici? You won… Go, go to Caphon…”

The hands tightened. She could feel her life slipping away. She coughed a final breath.

Blood.

Janus

Something stirred inside him. “Do you think Anneliese got free?”

Cici stood against the side of a tree, watching the distant train tracks. They had crossed several fields and roads until they had accidentally come across the long, silver rails. It was then that they had decided to follow them to Caphon, since they’d probably be the quickest route.

Cici shook her head. “I don’t know. If they captured her, they’d surely keep her alive for ransom. She is, after all, the princess of Caphon. There’s no way they’d let her die, unless they’re wanting a fight.”

“I just thought we’d see her by now. She’d probably head for the tracks, too.”

“But we didn’t think of it until we saw them. Maybe she got lost. Who knows?”

“Do you even want to find her?” replied Janus, accusingly.

“Of course! She’s my friend, too. It’s just… we can’t waste time worrying about her. Not when we’ve got ourselves and this whole nation to fret about.”

“I know.”

“Janus.”

The elf looked up.

“Stop worrying. She’ll be fine. Who knows, maybe Claw found her. I don’t know where he got off to.”

This seemed to cheer Janus somewhat.

“We’ve got to move. It’s getting late.” Her wrick said it was four already. They still had several hours before they were safely out of the reach of Broadford. Once that passed into the region of Caphon, perhaps they could flag down a traveler. Maybe they’d find some way to get into Caphon faster, or at least pass on the word.

Jaffe

A day of feasting and carousing had been what Jaffe had expected. He had waltzed off the train, mentioning the chaos he had left in his wake to one of the passengers as he wandered past.

He had been stopped for questioning, and had answered honestly. He had survived quite a fight at a tavern outside of Highpass. He had slaughtered a few things on the way, and had quite shamelessly allowed the butchering of various humans on the way.

He hadn’t mentioned that they had been bandits, or that the chaos had been caused by someone else. That lessened the dramatic effect.

This had promptly gotten him escorted to the nearest prison for questioning. After several hours of interrogation, none of which included the slightest drop of liquor (which was torturous in itself), he had finally confessed. Creatures had attacked the in during the night, and he had fled to save his own hide.

Seeing him as nothing more than a harmless, if foolish, drunk, the guards had released him into his own custody. Gorg had been forcibly kenneled along with the other dog. They both howled in protest as they were hauled off by several men, each holding a long chain and straining to keep Gorg from disemboweling them.

As he wandered place to place, Jaffe wondered if the rising military presence in the city was due to the threats he had inadvertently made. Were the stories of the wyvern and bandits really worrying to the people of Caphon?

Throughout the day, regiments of soldiers, as if on parade, had marched toward the southern gate of the city. Dragonriders had been seen swooping overhead, as if to scout the reports.

The train had been fitted with impressive weaponry, loaded with soldiers, and sent off toward the south, apparently returning to fortify Broadford in case of invasion from that front.

He felt embarrassed with himself. He had caused more of a stir than normal.

His feet stumbled into the entryway of a nearby tavern. He found himself strolling to the counter and ordering an Oyster Stout. That sounded interesting. Absently, he swirled the dark liquid before swigging it. As his mind fogged a little, he wondered if he’d actually just drunk a shellfish. He shrugged, drained the rest of the glass, and ordered up another, wondering if the fishy taste was his imagination.

Claw

The pale human-creature was not pale anymore. She was red. She smelled of meat, and death. Claw saw her in the distance with other two-legged beings. They were hurting her.

Fire rage burned through Claw, and he rushed forward. With two expert swipes, he eviscerated the first offender. The dark-robe fell forward as his spine splintered. He cried out and dropped the girl, his hands flailing desperately as he tried with what control he had to fend off the raptor.

Claw was having none of it. He brought the talon crushing down on the man’s face. The man died.

The other man smelled strangely. It smelled of urine. Claw looked up. The glowy-eyed man was now fleeing through the forest. With a few short bounds, the raptor closed the distance and dispatched the man. He fell forward and tried to crawl away.

Claw enjoyed the challenge. He planted a foot on the man’s back, clutched the man’s head in his jaws, and twisted. Claw dropped the head. His blood tasted old, as if drained out and put back in. Claw then wandered back to the girl.

He liked the girl. He licked her. She tasted good. Were she not friend, Claw would have eaten her there. But she was friend, and Claw didn’t eat friend. He guarded friends.

She had called him. Why didn’t she move?

Claw nudged her with his snout. She didn’t move. Her limp body rolled over. Her eyes were closed. Blood trickled out of her mouth.

Claw licked her face. Her blood was flesh. It tasted good.

He licked her again. He sniffed her. She wasn’t moving.

Claw nosed his way under her and tried to lift her. She was limp. It was hard.

Claw bit down on her shirt and lifted her up. He placed the limp body on his back, jostling her until she sat roughly normally. He liked her smell like this. She smelled delicious. But Claw didn’t eat friends.

He began to run off through the woods.

Cici

She felt guilty about leaving Anneliese behind, but what choice did she have? The girl was almost definitely lost already. Why should she give up her life, and Janus’s, for a lost cause?

At least Grunt sacrificed himself to save someone. If she had let Janus return, he would have been giving up his life for nothing. She couldn’t – wouldn’t – allow that.

They continued up the railroad track for nearly an hour when they had heard a rattling on the track. They had just entered the forest when a massive craft came into view. It was returning from the north!

Two large cannons had been installed in the place of the central cars. On either side were several other cars full of soldiers.

“They’re heading south to reinforce Broadford. They know about the armies!”

“We succeeded!” cried Janus. He was about to rush out and get the train’s attention when Cici pulled him back into the forest.

“Are you crazy?”

“What?”

“We don’t know what their orders are. They may take us to be enemies and just attack us right out. We don’t exactly look reputable.”

“Speak for yourself.” Janus replied. He was still decked in the finery the Governor had given him. Cici was the one that looked moderately like a bandit. “If anything, they’d think you captured me or something.”

“Either way, let’s just let them go. We know now that Caphon has been warned. We can rest easy tonight.”

Day 6

Command: 1 AM

“Did she die?” Black-hair asked.

Keyboard clicked around. “Can’t find her. Last I saw – she was in the woods.”

“Where’d those others come from?”

“Far to the south, a region known only as the Deathwold. I don’t know what’s there. I thought it was just swamp-land and ocean.” Replied Keyboard. He brought up a map of the region. “Best estimates show a colony or city somewhere in this region. It appears to be where the South Bend ends.”

“And that’s how they knew about Broadford.” Black-hair suggested, swigging his coffee. It was extra strong. They’d been at this for a long time.

“No idea. Bodies wouldn’t float all the way down Alonhill to Broadford, so how these guys knew about the Eastern forces… no idea.”

“What about Caphon?” he swigged the coffee. It was bitter.

“Well, a few made it there. Some are still en route from the south. I don’t know where Corrie went. But apparently she hasn’t completely died yet.” Keyboard clacked a few commands, brought up a menu. He looked worried.

“Well, let me know the moment she shows back up. So far, only a few have made it this far.”

“Yah, well… with difficulty this high, I’m surprised any made it.” Keyboard sounded distracted.

“Tell me the dwarf didn’t.”

Keyboard brought up another menu, panned across it, and looked for the name. “Sorry, boss. He made it, almost without a scratch. Last time we saw him… he was… hrmmm.”

“What?” Black-hair leaned forward, accidentally spilling a bit of his coffee.

“He’s gone off the grid. I can’t find him. He was there. Where is he now?”

“Can you send a drone out for him? Did he leave the city?”

Keyboard was already calling a drone up. He needed a better angle on the events anyway. “That layabout? Nah, he’d sooner get himself drowned in a brewery than actually fight on purpose.”

“Survival of the fittest is a bit of a misnomer then.”

“In his case, yes.”

“And Caphon’s on full alert?”

Keyboard nodded. “More of a cautiously awake… but yah, alert enough. They have about as

much warning as we did.”

“Well, this should be interesting then.”

Janus

Morning broke on the couple. They had taken up shelter in a farmer’s stable, much to the chagrin of the few cows and a pig that also slept there. It had been a strange night, cows lowing, pigs squealing, and the incessant buzz of horseflies.

By morning, both had been hiding under a thick blanket that Janus had found tucked in a corner. It smelled of horse. It made them feel all-over dirty, but it had to do. It was the only way to keep the flies off of them.

As the morning light slowly found its way through the trees, they slipped out of the barn and tried to find a way to speed their journey.

Janus suggested stealing the horse. It seemed fit enough. Cici shook her head. Every time she had tried to ride a horse double, she had been bucked off. So they had decided to look for a vehicle of some sort. They considered the tractor, until Cici pointed out that they could probably run faster than it drove, not to mention the noise, and fuel, and … well, “obviousness of it all.”

Janus felt stupid even considering it. They left the barn and made their way through a nearby village. The road north out of Broadford diverted around this small hamlet, turning more sharply to the west, towards Highpass. A direct land route was harder to come by since the train had been built. With so few fuel stations along the roads between Broadford and Caphon, very few drove all the way from one to the other.

Those that did, prepared accordingly.

Cici had told Janus that anyone in this area with a car would surely keep enough fuel on hand to reach one of the major cities – or at least close to the major city, since that’s where most fuel stations had been built.

They investigated, and soon located a small vehicle. It was a car of some sort, with three wheels instead of four. As Cici investigated, she announced that she couldn’t find a fuel tank.

“What’s that mean?”

“Seems to be electric.”

“What’s the range?”

“No idea.” She responded.

“How do we start it?”

“Well, that I do know.” She replied, twirling the keys.

“Where’d you find them?”

“Apparently the owner of this place keeps them in a little rock on his front porch, along with the keys to his house. Never occurred to him that it’s strange for a random rock to just rest on a bannister.”

Janus chuckled.

They hopped in the car. Janus slipped into the driver seat. Cici tapped impatiently at the window. “I don’t think so. Move over. I’m driving.”

King Logyn

His advisors were at the door again. The king pressed his fingers against his temples. They had grown white with stress and age. “Yes, what is it?”

Two men appeared at the door. They were equally grey in hair. One was an elf, the other a human. The human’s beard was salt-and-pepper throughout, and his eyes bore the signs of someone who hadn’t slept for a long time. The elf’s grey locks ran down his back, where they had been braided in a way that showed the elevation of his office.

“Are you sure it’s wise to alarm the populace like this, your honor?” asked the man.

“I agree, your grace. But … we’re going on rumors and the irrational tale of one drunk dwarf.”

In truth, the dwarf had simply been the final nail in the coffin. He had sent many scouts out looking for his daughter, with express commands to bring back news –any news – of her whereabouts. Without fail, every single one of them had vanished. It had been days since he had heard any reports from Rift or Alon, or the other regions of the country, for that matter. Rumors had begun filtering in from Highpass. Dark shapes, strange things in the sky, large monsters moving through the mountain passes. Even the Northern States reported strange events. That one… Scarlet was it? She had reported suspicious rumblings coming from her homeland to the north. He’d have to find her again and ask what exactly was happening.

Smoke had been rising in the canyon that divided Caphon and Alon. Then, reports had filtered in that Broadford had closed up its gates. He had secretly sent out the drones to spy out the city, and only one had actually returned with any footage. It showed scenes of a young elf fleeing the city, only to be bombed out of existence by one of Broadford’s defensive shuttles.

He watched in horror as a minigun opened up on the forest. It was made all the more poignant when he had actually noticed that the fugitive was an elf maid – about the age of his daughter. She was considerably thinner, more worn, but many features too closely resembled her.

All the other drones had been shot down, or had simply failed to arrive. He had sent the military to investigate, and eagerly awaited news.

Meanwhile, the call went out for citizens of the surrounding countryside to ready themselves for evacuation. If a force really was coming – then there would be little warning before it struck. He had dispatched troops to Highpass as well. They had a geographically-stable position, but he wondered, once the enemy had broken upon them, how long they could last. As for Broadford, it appeared they had already taken steps to defend themselves.

While he wasn’t instituting martial law quite yet, he wanted to be prepared. A days’ warning, at most, would be given before an enemy would be at the gates. So yes, he considered alarming the populace to be quite the right decision.

“Yes. It is needful at this time. Better they prepare for the worst that never comes than be at ease on the last day of their lives.”

His advisors bowed in respect to his judgment. They seemed to still disagree.

“What else is there, my friends?”

“An arrival, my lord. To be specific, we have found a raptor at the front gate.”

“Yes, and?” The jungle was full of such beasts. They were a pest at times, and were known to take down the occasional hiker, but beyond that, they were relatively harmless. A glorified pest, at most. “Just put it down and be on your way. Surely you have better things to do with your time than act as game warden.”

“Sir, it’s about its charge.” Continued the human.

“What do you mean?”

A message appeared on his console, and the king pulled up a log. It was an internal memo from the guards at the city wall. It said “drone returned. Footage AX-B95 awaiting official review.”

“Gentlemen, please take care of the problem. More footage has come in, and has been directed to me for immediate review.”

It was footage of a dark-robed army marching into Broadford. It had been sent from the train. The drone had only been equipped with a rudimentary camera, as it was meant for speed. The footage caught a glimpse of the palace, which was apparently severely damage. What is going on down there?

“Your majesty…”

“What is it, man?” the king asked, closing the console.

“Sir, there appears to be an elf on the raptor.”

“Raptors don’t grow big enough to carry an elf. Is it tattooed with an elf?” Some ranchers branded their animals to keep track of them. Perhaps there was a rancher somewhere raising the short reptiles for some defensive purpose.

“No, this is the largest raptor I’ve ever seen, and it’s carrying an elf on its back.”

“What does this elf look like?” A slight thrum of hope stirred in the king’s heart. There was no way it was actually his daughter, but on the off chance…

“She appears to be… sire… your daughter.”

The king rushed from the room, leaving the two councilors standing, confused, where they were. He burst back in. “Do I have to tell you everything? We need to go, now!”

They rushed out after him.

The royal transport was waiting at the entrance to the palace. The chauffer stepped out and helped the king and the two counselors into the back of the vehicle, then took up his position behind the wheel. “Where to, your grace?”

“The Royal Hospital.”

The car sped down through the mechanized city. It drove across the network of canals that criss-crossed the steel metropolis. The driver pulled up in front of the hospital and was about to open the door when the king suddenly exited and rushed into the clinic.

“Where is she?” He asked the secretary. She looked up in alarm and stood. “Your majesty. It’s an honor. What can we do—“

He cut her off. “Where is she? Where is my daughter?”

“Your daughter?” she looked at the councilors. “I’m – I’m not sure. Your daughter’s here?”

The human advisor stepped up and opened her registrar. “An elven female was found at the main gates this morning. She was taken into the hospital intensive care wing for treatment. We have reason to believe her to be the princess Anneliese.”

The secretary reached out for her registry. “May I, your honor?”

He slid her the book. With expert speed, her fingers leapt across the pages, coming to rest on a “Jane Doe.” She marked the room number on a sheet of paper. “Shall I have you escorted?”

“No,” replied the king. “I know the way.”

He led the two councilors down a maze-like network of hallways. It was one of many hospitals in the city, and the king had visited each one countless times, seeing to the health of his thousands, now perhaps millions of citizens. He had visited many through the years, but even that was a small percentage of those who had been sick or injured.

Now, it struck home. He was going to visit what could be his own daughter. He found the intensive care wing and turned to the two men with him. “Please, wait here. Give me a moment.”

“Are you all right, your majesty?”

He nodded. “I will be. One way or the other.”

He entered the hallway and found the door. On it was a single name, as well as a few distinguishing characteristics. “Jane Doe, blonde, elf, female”

There were millions of blonde female elves in the world. This wasn’t technically her. But descriptions had caused those who knew her well to wonder. He had to know. He knocked lightly. There was no answer. He pushed the door open, and heard the whirring of machines and the beep-beep of various gauges and dials.

He rounded the corner and pulled aside the curtain separating the bed area from the rest of the room. The face was scratched, but the blood had been washed way. Several bandages wrapped her head, and it appeared a piece of her ear had been lost. It was toward the tip, so it would regrow in time, but now a white bandage, stained deeply with red, sat where the stately tip of her ear had been.

Her shoulder was bandaged, yet the gauze had already begun to grow crimson. A tube of some sort ran into her nostrils, and another into her mouth. Tears welled up in his eyes. His little girl… was alive.

The beeping of the machine alternated with a small cylinder that seemed to be pumping oxygen into her longs. Her chest rose and fell with the rhythm of the machine.

What had happened to her?

Why was she like this? He took her hand. A small device had been placed on the tip of her finger. It kept track of her pulse. She was cold to the touch. He absently played with her fingers. They were scratched and had been wrapped in bandages as well.

He knelt by her still form and wept as only a father can weep. Tears of relief, of concern, of confusion. He buried his face in her side and wept great racking sobs.

Janus

The trip into the city was uneventful. They parked the vehicle a short distance from the city and decided to make their way into it on foot. Cici thought it was better to walk than show a registration to a

stolen vehicle, especially if they wanted to be heard. They ran the last few hundred yards to the entrance – a yawning, steel-and-concrete monstrosity that loomed several stories above them.

“Just pretend to be refugees.”

Janus scowled. “We are, though.”

“Oh, yah.”

They made it into the city with little harassment. “We need to find the commander.”

Janus introduced himself as an ambassador of Alon, and requested an audience with the rulership of the city. He was directed to the palace. Through winding streets, across the myriad canals stretching across the seeming miles of congested city, they went, finally arriving at the grand palace of King Logyn.

“…Anneliese’s father…”

“What?”

“The king,” replied Janus. “He’s Anneliese’s father. I don’t know if I can face him.”

“Why not? You did what you could.”

“Do you truly believe that?” He retorted with a scoff. “I abandoned her to that building. I should have gone back in with her. I abandoned her at the ruins – leaving her unprotected so I could be with you. Over and over again I chose what was easy, or what required less risk. I was her protector, and I did a horrible job.”

“She wasn’t your responsibility. She even said so herself.”

Janus fell silent. “I failed my task. I abandoned my charge. And now, I have to face the king, knowing I let his daughter die so that I could escape.”

Cici grabbed Janus and spun him around. Her face was hard as flint. She pressed a finger into his chest and cursed. “You did all you could. Stop moping. There are bigger problems right now than one elf. This whole kingdom is at risk. If you tell the king it was your responsibility, or that you murdered his daughter, or whatever you feel – what makes you think he’ll go along with anything you say? What makes you think you’ll walk out of there alive? Keep your mouth shut and let’s do the job.”

Janus nodded. They were escorted into the palace.

“The king has just returned.”

They displayed proper decorum and didn’t ask where he had been. It was none of their business. They waited as the chamberlain fetched the administrators of the city.

Janus picked at a loose string on the seat of a nearby chair. Cici smacked his hand. “Stop it. You’re embarrassing yourself. Stay focused. Don’t talk about the elf.”

“She has a name. It’s Anneliese.”

Cici frowned. “I’m not stupid. I know her name. Don’t talk about her, not now.”

After several long minutes of waiting, two men made their way down the stairs.

“Neither one is the king.” Whispered Cici.

Janus gave her a look. “One’s an elf, and the other’s dress shows that. Thank you for informing me of the obvious.”

She scowled.

The two greeted Cici and Janus.

Janus introduced himself. “I am Janus, prince of the tribe of Alon. I fear my people are under attack.” He said, not waiting for the proper greetings. “Forgive me for my impetuosity… my companion and I have traveled far. She barely survived the sacking of Rift.”

The two advisors exchanged glances. “Have you any other news from Alon? Did you come through Highpass?”

Janus noticed they didn’t ask about Anneliese. Had she already returned?

“Rift fell several days ago. We fled through the canyon. My companion lost her father on the way. We barely made it to Broadford. However, we believe the Governor has made an arrangement with an army from the south in exchange for protection. As such, we had to sneak out of the city.”

The advisors nodded. “Another came from Highpass. We don’t know what became of it. Forgive us, this is all just so shocking,” said one. “You say Broadford is now occupied? Can you tell us anything more?”

“Sirs, I’ve never seen anything like these – pale as a skeleton, with glowing eyes, wearing dark hoods and robes. The Broadford military is currently under their control.”

“So they are different than the creatures that attacked Rift.”

Janus looked at Cici for confirmation. She nodded. “I believe the creatures in the Rift were from the far East.”

Exchanged worried glances.

“What? What’s happening?”

“And Broadford is occupied by forces from the South?”

“They were fortifying the northern gates. That’s all we know, sirs.”

The men nodded. “We shall report this to the king. Thank you.”

As they left, Janus reached out, “Sirs, if I may. What news from Alon?”

The human shook his head. “We haven’t received any reports from Highpass or your nation. We’ve received troubling reports of armies marching into Broadford. We’re assessing the situation now. If you’ll excuse me.”

“And what of the princess?”

The men both stopped and turned. “Who?”

“Princess Anneliese – did she make it here?”

They exchanged glances, and the elf spoke. “What do you know of her?”

“She was my charge. We were ambushed on the Alonhill River and traveled through the canyon. We got separated in Broadford. When you didn’t mention her, I hoped – I mean – I hoped she had made it here before us.”

They two men turned. “We shall speak of this later.” They vanished.

Janus turned slowly to Cici. Fire blazed in her eyes. “You just had to. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut about her. What will her father do to us, do you think?” Her hands began to clench and unclench. “Why do you care so much? It’s not your fault.”

“And whose fault is it? I let her rush back into the burning building. I watched her hazard her life. I ran off to find you. If I had stayed with her –“

“You probably would have gotten yourself killed. Don’t delude yourself. There’s nothing you could have done.”

Their argument was interrupted by footsteps on the stairs. It was the king. Logyn stared down at them, his face tired and sad. He bore up, apparently under tremendous grief, and made his way down the stairs with stately grace. “Please, accompany me.”

The two followed behind. He led them into a side room and commanded them to sit. He pulled up a chair opposite. He reached on the bar and pulled down a glass decanter full of an amber-colored liquid. He pulled of the stopper and tipped himself a glass. He offered some to the two. They both declined.

“Normally, I wouldn’t do this. But it’s been a day…” he seemed distracted.

He dropped an ice cube into the drink and took a swig. He placed the glass on a nearby table and folded his hands together. A strange look seemed to shimmer in his eyes – a weariness coupled with frustration. Regret? Janus couldn’t read him.

“So I hear Rift has fallen? And I’m assuming the Span is gone as well?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Replied Cici, suddenly adopting an aire of respect.

He nodded at this, then leaned back, his fingers moving into more of a steepled form. His pointer fingers touched the bottom of his chin, and his eyes closed. “And the canyon has fallen as well, I take it?” It was as if he were checking off locations on the map.

“As far as we know, Lord. We saw smoke behind us, and barely escaped the advanced scouts. My father died in the attack.”

“Your father?”

“An orc named Grunt. He adopted me several years ago.”

“You’re sure he’s dead?” Asked the king. Cici seemed shocked at the question.

“Y-yes. The cabin caved in and he hasn’t shown up since.”

The king nodded. Something else in a mental checklist got noted.

“And next you went to Broadford? Just the two of you?”

Janus shook his head. “No. Princess Anneliese was with us up until Broadford.”

The king’s face twitched slightly, then went back to the thoughtful expression. Was that anger? What did that mean? “And Broadford is not fallen?”

“The palace was attacked – only where we were staying.”

“I’m assuming you shared the room with my daughter, as was your responsibility as her guardian?”

Janus felt his heart sink. He nodded. “Yes.”

“And what was the nature of your relationship with my daughter?”

Janus felt his mouth dry. “Purely – erm – purely one of guardian and charge, my liege.”

“Are you sure?”

Janus looked up, confused by the question. “My lord?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Why?” His heart pounded in his chest. What did the king know?

“I just wanted to make certain. The rooms were sabotaged. Then what?”

Janus went for broke. Honesty had gotten him into this mess, maybe it would get him out. “She ran back in to save the wounded. I went to look for her.” He replied, motioning to Cici. “She had been in another wing – the other side of the palace – that had also been sabotaged. Your daughter and I agreed to meet at the train depot.”

“And what happened.” The king was too calm. What did he know?

“I was able to rescue our mount.”

“Mount?”

“A raptor named Claw – he had been stabled in the southern region of the city. I freed him and brought him back. But when I met up with Cici, we couldn’t find Anneliese. We heard that the guards of the city were looking for us, so we sent him away and hid.”

The king nodded. “And that’s when you saw the armies from the south?”

Janus nodded. “Yes. They were commanding Broadford’s defense.”

“Did you see the shuttles attacking anyone?”

“No, my liege. We escaped before they could fire upon us.”

“And why didn’t you go back for my daughter?”

No reply could be made. The king’s hands returned to his lap. Now, they gripped the fabric of his robe. Janus noticed the knuckles turning white. His gaze slowly rose to the king’s face. It was showing color… the king was losing control – was it anger or grief?

“Why… didn’t… you go back?”

Janus just bowed his head. His mouth twitched, and words formed. He couldn’t speak. He was overwhelmed. He felt hot tears dropping to his lap. “I – I –“

The king rose. “Come with me.”

Through bleary eyes, Janus rose and attempted to follow the king. Logyn walked with brisk stride – out the door, across the entryway, out the main door, and to his waiting car. The chauffer opened it and seemed to recoil as the king blustered past. The two followed him. Janus’s mind swam. What would this mean? What was happening?

“Get in.” demanded the king. They climbed into the car, the chauffer closed the door.

“Where to, your majesty?” the driver asked.

“Same as before.”

“As you wish.”

The Royal Hospital soon came into view. Janus looked out the window – they had all been absolutely silent the entire trip. Now that he saw where they had come, his heart sank even lower. Hope and terror fought for control.

“Because of you two, this is what I have to deal with, rather than the survival of my city.”

The king stepped out, and without turning, ordered “Follow.”

They did.

The king entered, gave a barely perceptible nod to the nurse as he stormed past. They followed him down corridor after corridor. Finally, they arrived in the intensive care ward. The king strode past nurses and doctors. “Move.” He said simply, and they scattered. He came to a door. The name “Jane Doe” had been there at one point. In what was probably the king’s handwriting, “Anneliese” had been taped over it.

“You are not to say a word. I want you to see what you’ve done. And you” he said, turning to Cici. “If he’d listened to your advice and concealed your dealings with my daughter – you’d both be dead this very moment.” He pointed to the walls surrounding them, as if to say “I have ears everywhere.” He pushed open the door and waited for them to enter. He then closed the door behind them and waited outside.

Janus cautiously stepped forward. Cici lagged behind.

The beeping of a heartrate monitor punctuated the silence. Janus pulled back the curtain, and his heart soared. Anneliese was alive. She was worse for wear, but still living; and she was awake.

She looked up. As best she could, she managed a small half-smile. “Hey.”

Janus quickly forgot the king’s command, and cried “You’re alive!” and rushed forward, wrapping her hand in his own. “I thought you were dead!”

Cici hovered back, as if the king’s command actually had swayed her.

“Heh… almost.” She replied, sadly. “I guess Claw saved me?”

Janus shook his head. “I don’t know. I just found out. Your father brought us here.”

“My father’s here? Dad!”

The door opened. The king strode in and cast a glare at Janus and Cici, causing the elf to dart back. “Do you know these two?”

“Yes, they’re my friends. They helped me survive the canyon. Janus saved me at Rift.”

The king folded his arms across his chest. “So this is the one you were talking about in your sleep?”

“I was?” Anneliese flushed.

“You may leave.”

Janus and Cici awkwardly left, and stood outside the door for nearly a half hour before the king returned.

Anneliese

She awoke to an unbelievably happy feeling. She didn’t feel any pain at all. Janus filled her view. She didn’t know what to say, so with all the grace and charm she could muster, she said “Hey.”

Janus seemed truly pleased to see her. Cici, as normal, stood back, a slight scowl on her face.

They conversed back and forth until she heard that her father was around. “Dad!”

Her father entered. He looked so worried. Had he been crying? Was he worried about her? Her heart broke for him. She was so glad to see him.

“Do you know these two?”

She smiled. They were her friends! They had saved her! She was so happy. Janus was safe. Cici was still alive! Oh, she had been so worried. Then her dad mentioned something she had muttered in her sleep. Janus? Apparently, she was speaking his name in her fever-dreams.

“I was?”

Her father didn’t answer. He turned to Janus and Cici. “You may leave.”

The two left, clearly cowed. Her father turned, and his hard expression softened. Anneliese smiled. “Oh, you look so worried, father.”

“Not anymore, my dearest. The sun has returned to my sky.” He kissed her hand. She looked down. Why was she bandaged? She couldn’t remember what had happened. She remembered skeletons, and white.

“What happened?”

Her father shook his head. “You went to visit Death. Apparently he didn’t feel worthy of you, yet.”

She smiled. “You’re so morbid.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. She could feel some slight tendrils of pain weaving their way across her stomach.

“How long have I been here?”

“Since this morning. A raptor of all things brought you here.”

“Claw?”

“So that really is his name…”

Apparently her face showed some concern. “Don’t worry, he’s being taken care of by the best handlers. We all owe him a great deal of gratitude. He apparently carried you all the way from Broadford in a single night. Not a small feat.”

She smiled. “He carried us all the way down the canyon and to Broadford – three of us. He barely rested.”

“Quite the beast.”

“Has the army arrived?” Anneliese asked. She stared down at her hand, absently. The bandages were still red with blood. How had she been so injured?

“Not yet. Don’t worry about that.” Replied her father.

She stopped staring at her hand and looked up into the smiling, yet sad eyes of her father. “Oh, daddy, it’s so good to see you. Why are you so sad?”

His sad smile hurt her. “I almost lost you – my life.”

Tears sprang to Anneliese’s eyes. “Oh, daddy…”

He hugged her close. She inhaled. He smelled faintly of tobacco. “You’ve been smoking again.”

“Do you blame me?”

She shook her head and squeezed him as tightly as she could manage – which wasn’t too strongly, all things considered. He released her and patted her gently on her good shoulder. “Get better soon.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Stay with me, just a little while longer. I’ve missed you so. I’m so sorry.”

“For what, dear?”

“I hated the fancy balls and rich society – I wanted to leave it all behind. All I thought about was myself. All you’ve done for me through the years. How can I ever make it up to you?”

Her father smiled. “You already have, my dear.”

He ran an affectionate hand through her hair, tussling it like he had when she was young. “You look so much like your mother. She’d be proud of what you’ve become. Never worry about making me proud – you couldn’t possibly make me feel any prouder than you do now.”

She smiled up at him. His praise warmed her.

“Thank you, father.”

He smiled and stepped away. She could feel more medicine entering her body. Her consciousness was starting to drift again. The pain ebbed. Was she dying? If she were, she didn’t care – she felt so good.

She felt herself falling… falling… falling…

Logyn

The king remained in his daughter’s room for nearly ten more minutes. She had fallen asleep. She looked happy. Apparently, she bore no ill-will against the two young upstarts in the hallway. At least the elf-boy had the sense not to lie to the king, especially when he had been advised to do so by the younger human. They hadn’t realized that the entire conversation had been recorded and piped into the king’s private chambers.

He had watched the footage from the drones he had sent to Broadford. The army from the south had indeed taken control of the city. Seeing such things, as well as the rumors from the refugees, he knew he what he had to do. He had ordered the train to withdraw, and now his soldiers were stationed about halfway between Broadford and Caphon. Until he knew whether he could trust these southernors, he’d protect that border, while simultaneously driving any other invaders north, where his forces in Caphon could make short work of them. His mobile artillery could only help in that effort.

A nurse walked in. “Your grace, may we get you anything?”

He looked up; he could tell tears were rimming his eyes. “No. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“She’s expected to make a full recovery. We don’t even think we’ll have to do surgery. She’s got

quite the regenerative ability, that one.”

The king smiled. “Her mother was the same.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, my king. We all mourn her passing.”

The king nodded. He had no words for his grief at the moment. The loss was too fresh. The nurse saw herself out after checking on Anneliese’s vitals.

The king finally stood and made his way out of the room. Janus and Cici were still standing there, looking as terrified as cornered mice. He made no effort to comfort them. He led them back out, hailed them a cab, and told them not to leave the city. He then returned to the palace.

Jaffe

The dwarf had drunk himself under the table more times than he could count. But something about his latest rounds had hit him harder than ever before. He staggered to his room, his head pounding, and flopped into bed. He rolled onto his back and groaned. What was his purpose? It seemed as if he spent all day, every day getting himself plastered.

He laughed. Of course there wasn’t any other point. He’d live, he’d die, and that was it. He stared at the ceiling, wondering why it spun on its own accord. He rolled over and retched. He felt miserable. But hey, he had saved the kingdom. Maybe he’d get a medal. Hopefully it was worth enough to barter and buy a few more rounds.

He staggered to the bathroom and retched again, then flopped himself on the floor and passed out. What was that smell? Did they ever clean these places?

Anneliese

The window was open, and she could hear the night traffic outside as it rumbled in the distance. She rolled over and looked out through her bleary, drug-induced haze. Night had fallen, yet the city didn’t go to sleep.

Apparently, someone had brought her flowers. She leaned up, groaning in pain as a bandage came loose. Her shoulder was bleeding again. She reached out and clicked on a light. She pulled down the card. It was from her father.

“The sun envies the glory you bring into my life. Get well soon. Love, Dad.”

She smiled and placed the card on the table. She tried to press the gauze back into place. Memories were slowly filtering back. She had been shot at. She frowned. How had she survived?

She depressed a small button and called the nurse to her bedside. The nurse arrived shortly, worried over her, changed several bandages, and reattached the one on her shoulder. “You’ll need to be

more careful, miss. Your injuries are pretty severe.”

“What happened?”

“You had a little bit of internal bleeding, but we managed to stop that with some of the biofoam. Your shoulder is mending nicely, but we don’t want anything coming loose.”

“Has my father been here since I fell asleep?”

“He stopped by once to personally deliver the flowers. He cares for you deeply, your highness.”

“Please, call me Anneliese.”

“Oh, I couldn’t, miss.”

“Have my friends been back?”

“Sorry, ma’am. They’ve been forbidden from seeing you.”

“On whose orders?”

“Why, your father’s. Apparently he’s very upset at them for something.”

What could possibly have set his father against them? What had they done? They had protected her, if anything. She leaned back, muttered a “Thank you,” and began to fall asleep again.

In her dreams, she could see the dark shapes on the horizon. The armies were coming. Blood flowed through the streets. A large, tentacled beast pulled itself from the canal and began to devastate the city. She heard the word “Czernoboch” mixed among other dark speech. He was coming.

Day 7

Janus

The king had ordered them to stay put, and so they did. Janus sat next to Cici on the bed. “What do you think will become of us?”

“Well, he hasn’t killed us yet. Anneliese got us spared.”

“I got us spared.”

Cici looked at him. “How was I supposed to know we were being spied upon?”

“We were conspiring outside the king’s palace and within his foyer; why wouldn’t you think he’d be spying?”

Cici shrugged. “I’m sorry; it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Janus leaned back and closed his eyes. He turned his head, caught a glimpse of the clock. It was just after midnight. They had been up talking for hours. His eyes closed. “Ugh… it’s been a whole week.”

“Week?”

“Since this mess started. I mean, last week this time, I was lying in bed, not a care in the world.”

“…with Anneliese.”

“In the same room, yes, but not in the same bed. What gives?”

“You love her, don’t you?” asked Cici.

Janus propped himself up on an elbow. “What do you think?”

Cici shook her head. “What should I think? Do you?”

“In a word? No. I was simply responsible for her.”

“What about then? What passions did you feel then?”

“The same I feel now.”

Cici’s face sank. He continued.

“The same I feel now – for you.”

Anneliese

Pain woke her early. Her stomach growled, her shoulder flamed, and her ear stung. She fumbled next to the bed, reaching for a mirror – something with a mirrored surface.

Dreading what she’d see, the elf held up the glass in a shaky hand. Her face was bruised, and she had lost the tip of an ear. She frowned. As strange as it seemed to others, her ears had actually been her pride. While most elves’ ears were short, or swept back against their head, hers were long, and seemed to extend dramatically off the side of her skull. Well, they used to be stately.

She gingerly poked the severed tip. She had no memory of what had done that. Sighing, she delicately pressed the bruises on her face and around her neck. Something had tried to choke her – that she remembered. She lowered the glass and pulled back the sheet.

She was dressed in a hospital johnny. She pulled it back and examined herself. Large bruises were forming all the way down her body. Little cuts here and there marked the shrapnel wounds that had pierced her. These had been sanitized, and a few were bandaged, but she could still see large bruises – some old, from Alonhill, and some new, from Broadford.

Her legs were scarred. She sighed.

She ran a finger along a prominent bruise on her side. Something had struck her. Was that left over from her internal wound? She pulled the johnny back across her body and pulled the sheet up. She eased back, painfully, and groaned. She’d been through it, all right. She closed her eyes and faded off to sleep again.

Logyn

“And this is a last-ditch effort?”

His adviser nodded. “We’re stationing troops around the city, setting up lines of communication – all the typical. But we have to face the fact…” the man trailed off, as if unable to form the words.

“… our soldiers are pathetically undertrained and could very easily be overrun?”

The man nodded, avoiding eye contact.

The king leaned back, steepling his fingers as he did so. He pressed them to his lips and leaned forward. “Explain it one more time.”

“Our allies to the North and in the eastern fringes of Alon have sent us as much as they could – what could be coming could very easily outmatch our current arms.”

“And you’ve communicated with the Chieftain of the Eastern Alonians?”

“A relative of his, sir. One by the name of Namore. He’s actually one of the designers of our train. They’ve been holding the line against the East since who-knows-when.”

The king ran his hands through his hair. “And Ravenna can’t send help? Bark?”

The adviser shook his head. “I’m sorry, my Lord. It appears the Guildmasters can’t agree on anything. And Ravenna’s silent as well.”

“So what’s our other option, then?”

The man slid the papers back across the desk to the king. “We have to be prepared to use it, if only to stop the advance here.”

Logyn collected the sheets and shook his head. Across the top, written in official-looking block script, was the phrase “Mjolnir Protocol.” He slid the sheets into a designated folder. “No. I won’t sacrifice my city to save another.”

Day 8

Anneliese

Her recovery had been speedy. From death’s door two days earlier, Anneliese had pulled through the worst. She had been moved from intensive care to a more comfortable room, and had even been permitted guests and walking privileges.

Once news that the princess was safe had arrived in the city, well-wishers had flocked. She had tried to be as courteous as possible, but felt awkward stumbling past them wearing hospital clothes and a robe. She tried to tie the robe close, but with all the tubes and wires, she had difficulty in doing so.

The nurse observed that she had made a surprising recovery, and marveled that the young elf-maid had little need for a cane. She joked “I was shot, not crippled. I can walk.”

News came to her early that day that she would actually be released into her father’s care. This delighted her, of course. Her father came and personally escorted her out of the hospital, draping her with his own robe as they left. Guards stood vigil at the doors, keeping well-wishers back and waving off the paparazzi.

Still, the bright flashes punctuated the early morning. She tried to smile and wave, but her shoulder stung her. Her father assisted her into the car, and climbed in after her. With a final, pained wave, they were off.

She was finally home. After a week of running and recovering – she was finally home.

As she hobbled her way up the steps, she sadly thought of her mother, who had passed a few years’ prior. Oh, how she wished she could see her one more time! Her death had been so sudden. Anneliese shook off the grief as she made her way to her room.

Her father opened the door. “Welcome home.”

She smiled at him. “You look happy again, father.”

He didn’t say anything, just beamed down at her.

“Get that sadness out of your eye.”

He winked at her. “Get better.”

She handed him his robe and stumbled her way to her bed. He closed the door behind her.

She shed her robe and limped toward her dresser. She pulled out new clothes and laid them on the bed, then made her way to the bathroom. She shed the hospital clothes – the only clothes she had had since the ones she had taken from Broadford had been shredded and stained in blood when she had arrived.

She looked herself over in the mirror. With the bandages removed, she could see dozens of small pink scars tracing their way across her body. She examined her hand. The bullet wound had

mostly sealed, at least.

She ran a finger along her stomach – a sickly-looking bruise had made its way across her thin waist by now, running from hip to belly button. She touched it. It was tender. She hobbled to her private bath and lowered herself into it.

Hot water flowed from the tap and surrounded her. It was painful at first, but she slowly grew accustomed to the warmth. She thought back over the past week. She had seen death first-hand. She had fought for her life.

She lifted a palm. Scabrous pink lines still evidenced the struggle she’d had on the raft. She could still feel the cold, rushing, drowning water – the painful wounds opening up her hands as she tried to claw her way along the cable.

She plunged both hands into the tub and leaned back, dousing her head in the water.

She heard the familiar, comforting warmth as water flooded around her ears, closing out all the sounds of the outside world. She sank back until her face was totally covered. She opened her eyes under the water, watching the twirling shapes of dancing bubbles swirling above her.

She sat up, letting water drip from her body. She reached out, plucked the soap from its dish, and, even though she had already been cleaned at the hospital, made an effort to scrub away the travel in effigy. She splashed her face, plunged back one more time for good measure, and stood. As the water drained, she stood there, water dripping slowly back into the tub, thinking over how she had changed.

She thought of Janus – what had gotten into him? They had connected on such a personal level when they had first met. It was as if they had known each other for years... then he’d just… changed.

She stepped out, dried off, and dressed, her mind floating from question to question.

He had chosen to reject her, had chosen to run off to find Cici instead of staying to help Anneliese. She couldn’t very well blame him, but something in her chilled as she continued to think about him. She had truly loved him. Now? She wasn’t so confident as to how she felt now that she paused and thought about it.

Guard

The southern wall was quiet. The sun had just finished reaching its apex and was beginning its slow descent toward nightfall. A guard stepped out onto the parapet and looked at his wrick. It was about one. All was still quiet.

“Czernoboch.” Came a voice from behind him. He had been standing watch since morning. Maybe he was hearing things?

“Czernoboch.” Came the voice again. That was a strange word. One that evoked some scene

from history that he had long forgotten.

“Czernoboch.” He finally turned.

“What did you say?”

Another guard stood behind him. His eyes were glazed over, and his voice came in a rumbling, guttural moan. “Czernoboch comes. The dark one returns. The outer void calls to us, and we answer.”

The crazed guard raised a dagger, and before the first guard could even react, he was cut down. A signal went up from the wall, subtle and secretive, yet the ones in the forest knew. The one elsewhere… he always knew.

Anneliese

While typical elf females in the city were enjoying the respite, Anneliese wandered the quiet streets. The soldiers had moved off to the walls, or to the barracks or armories. Police seemed higher in number today than usual – but that was to be expected. It was, after all, the eve (or soon to be the eve) of an attack. Everyone in the city knew it.

A few looters had been rounded up. The taverns had been particularly busy, and at least one dwarf had been taken out dead, having drunk himself to death a day or so earlier. They had found his body just that morning – passed out in a puddle of his own vomit.

Sadness sat in her heart. She had never met him before, but she wondered what would drive a man to drink himself to death. If he truly feared the coming holocaust, why did he rush so readily into the arms of the very thing he feared – death?

She passed the fountains near the Living Park, a massive zone of forested land lying a few blocks from the palace. She had spent many days there in her younger years. Its beauty was still a thing to behold, though it held less glory for her now that she had seen Alon. In spite of all the death she had seen, a few of those memories still sat in cherished place in her mind. She remembered the beautiful crystals, the glades, even the ivy-strewn paths that led here and there. She thought of the beautiful garments, simple and practical, that she had purchased.

The fountain sputtered, joyfully ignorant of the dark tidings that, even now, threatened the city. It gurgled happily. She knelt beside it, and enjoyed the trickling joy it seemed to exude.

“Anneliese!”

She looked up. Janus and Cici were coming across the park toward her. Janus was carrying a small golden rod.

“How are you? It feels like forever!” she asked. She embraced both of them. “What’s that?”

Janus smiled back at her. “We’re great. We’re under house arrest until your dad decides what to do with us. This? Oh, something Cici found for me.”

“What’s it do?”

Janus depressed a small button. A long blade extended out of each end. With a shink, the small gold tube became a green-bladed glaive with a golden handle.

Anneliese froze.

“It’s amazing, right?” Janus depressed the button again, and the blades folded up into the stock. “It’s light as air, too.”

“I never have been a big fan of them, myself. But I figured Janus would enjoy it.” Cici stated, proudly.

Anneliese’s nightmares flashed across her vision. Janus had been holding a golden glaive whose blades were the color of jade. Surely, it was a coincidence. There were probably dozens of them.

“Only one of its kind.” Janus declared proudly. “But enough about that – how are you?”

Anneliese nodded, half dumb with confusion.

“Anneliese, are you okay?” Janus asked. He was about to reach out to her when Cici stopped him.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine.” Replied Anneliese. She took a step back. The world was spinning. “Something’s about to happen.”

“Are you feeling all right? Anneliese? Hello?”

North Gate

A guard toppled to the ground, blood gurgling from a wound in his throat. He fell to his side. The blow had been silent, swift, unseen. Down the line, another soldier dropped, a bolt protruding from the side of his head. It was a silent plague. Each moment, another guard dropped, unseen by his companions, into a small puddle of blood.

Something dark in the field released a series of clicks, and the invasion began.

Sky Vanguard

It had taken days of planning to get the fleet airborne. Seventy crafts now patrolled the clouds above the city, scanning constantly for any sign of invasion. The last thing they expected was an invasion from above. Surely no enemy would fly higher than the clouds for miles, dropping down with shocking speed.

But they did.

It came like a flash. The armored shuttles, their turbines pounding the air, had been patrolling, their paths controlled in small concentric circles by guide cables that kept them fastened to the ground. At a moment’s notice, they could detach and mobilize, but in order to save power, they typically remained tethered.

Now, ships began to drop. Wyvern swept past, blanketing the thin cables with acid as they came for strike after strike. Cables snapped, ripping backwards like deadly rubber bands, disemboweling or otherwise maiming the crewmembers aboard the ships. Soldiers toppled sideways as the massive airships listed.

One careened sideways and collided with another. The turbines erupted, sending shards of deadly steel raining on the city below. An entire airship, smoldering and sputtering, dropped toward the palace.

The Underground

Beneath the tramways system that ran beneath the streets of Caphon lay the Underground.

It was a place of disrepute – a catacomb – a sewer – a black market – a brothel – a homeless village. Now, it was a bloodbath.

Creatures, hellish to behold, snaked their way into the tunnels beneath the city, butchering as they went. Prostitutes, assassins, thieves, undercover agents – all died under the indiscriminate claws of the intruders. With the name of Czernoboch on their tongue, foul forms skittered through the dark, dragging away bodies for some foul ritual.

Upper Water Gate

The only ship remaining in the harbor vanished with hardly a splash. The river was deep here, having been dredged long and spacious by the dwarves. Upon entering the city, it split into seven canals, which ran down through each borough, watering and providing supplies to millions of the citizens. Now, something monstrous was heaving its way into the city. The water gate bent awkwardly as a large tentacle fastened onto it. With a grinding shriek, something wrenched it free and hurled it unceremoniously into the city.

It pierced the upper floors of an office building and slid downward, tearing a gaping hole in the side before thudding heavily into the populated streets below, killing dozens before they could even register what had happened.

The wall that had held the Water Gate soon followed, and the people began to panic, fleeing in terror at the chunks of masonry and metal raining death upon them. Tentacles, nearly ten feet in diameter, seized the stone and steel with unfathomable strength and wrenched it downward. The wall

caved as if it were made of cardboard. Soldiers shrieked as another tentacle burst from the water and flattened their vehicle.

Czernoboch had arrived.

Anneliese

She heard the chaos before she saw it. From the sky overhead came the shriek as a tether snapped free and toppled to the ground with a shuddering explosion of dust and blood. Screams. A soldier staggered, half his body shattered, and dropped dead at her feet. His face, crushed against the pavement as it was, still showed the hissing remains of the acid.

“Wyvern!” she cried, instinctively reaching under her shirt for the dagger.

Janus extended the glaive. “Where?”

“There!”

Up above them, a swarm of wyvern, perhaps twenty in number, were molesting the fleet. The airships had been caught off-guard. The wyvern had dropped from the sun, using the blindspot to their advantage.

An explosion erupted elsewhere in the city.

“They’re here!”

Anneliese rushed across the gardens toward the palace. “Come on!”

She could see her father’s form as he exited the palace. He paused on the steps and looked out across the streets. His two advisors were at his sides. They pointed erratically at the sky. She saw her father look up. She followed his gaze.

An airship was blazing like a comet across the sky. It was bound for the palace.

“Father! Run!”

She rushed forward, but felt two sets of hands grab her from behind. She felt herself being bodily tackled. She kicked, she bit, she screamed. “Let me go! Dad!!!”

Her father glanced up at the ship, then at his younger advisor. He placed something in the man’s hand and shoved him toward Anneliese’s group, tapping his own thigh as he did. The advisor took off at a run, leaving her father and the other, more elderly advisor behind.

Anneliese looked from the ship to her father. He saw her there, on the ground, and she could, even at this distance, see a slight smile on his face.

The airship struck, and the palace vanished in a mushroom-shaped cloud of fire and smoke.

“NOOOO!!!”

She kicked again, but felt Janus’s strong arms pressing her downward. She felt the heat from the flames, even though she wasn’t near them. She felt the ping of debris, and heard the shattering of windows for blocks around. A car alarm blared. A cloud of dust settled over everything.

“No! No! Dad!”

Janus’s grip loosened momentarily. She kicked free and rushed toward the explosion, but he tackled her again. “Let me go! Let me go! Dad!”

“You’ll just get yourself killed! Stop!”

She swung around and planted a fist alongside his jaw. “You touch me again, and I will kill you.” She turned and rushed away. She ran as close as she could, but the fire held her back. She stood there for what seemed like an eternity – it had been seconds. Her life. Her father. Dead. Nothing could have survived that. The surviving advisor grabbed her in a hug. “Princess, I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around the man and sobbed, feeling the heat venting from the newly-formed crater of the palace.

“Why didn’t he run?” She sobbed, half to herself.

“He injured himself earlier today on an inspection. His leg wasn’t cooperating.”

“Why… why… oh, dad!”

“Anneliese, I know this is a terrible time, but we must talk. You are now our leader. Take this. We must get away from the palace.” The advisor placed a small folder into her hands. “Come on, we have to go.”

Something quivered under the street. The shattered remains of the palace began to rumble and move. As she watched, dumbfounded, the ground beneath the palace buckled and collapsed. Anew the fire blazed into the sky. It was like watching the pit of hell open before her. A large creature moved out of the fires and roared.

This was her nightmare. When would she awake?

The advisor gripped her tightly by the shoulder and rushed her away from the site. She felt herself being dragged into a vehicle. The military had come. As she was driven away, she watched in stunned horror as the soldiers began to open fire on the monstrosities bursting from underneath the palace. As she watched, more holes appeared, and splitting up from them were the same strange, spider-like creatures she had seen at the cabin.

The city had been infested from below.

Another airship detonated in a distant part of the city. She heard static across one of the radios.

“North gate is entirely gone. Command, we’ve got something huge up here!”

“Command, South gate taking heavy casualties. We’ve been betrayed.”

The reports were coming in from everywhere. How could they survive such evil?

“Anneliese, I need to talk to you.”

She gazed over at him, her mind still glazed over.

“Your father refused to authorize the use of our emergency weapon.”

“Weapon?” she tried to process the word. Her thoughts buzzed erratically.

He pointed to the folder. She opened it. Across the top, it read “Mjolnir Protocol.” She gazed quickly down the list. “What’s a ‘nuclear option’?”

“In the event that our city is irreparably overrun, the Mjolnir Protocol would allow us to stop the enemy from proceeding any farther.”

“At was cost?”

“Let me ask you this question, princess. Do you care more for your city or the world?”

“The world.”

“Then I won’t lie. The Mjolnir Protocol would detonate multiple high-yield explosives throughout the city. Any within the radius would die, friend and foe alike.”

Anneliese nodded, and the shocked malaise finally lifted, a grief sagging over her instead. Her mind was finally clear. She wished it weren’t.

A voice came through the line. “Sir, requesting permission to use Mjolnir.”

The commander turned to Anneliese and the advisor. After a glance at Anneliese, the advisor shook his head. The commander turned to the radio. “That’s a negative, soldier. The trigger is to remain up. Do you understand me, the trigger is up!”

“Order the evacuation of the city. If we’re going to use that weapon, we’re saving as many as we can. Order the military to fall back to the center of the city.”

Anneliese felt her mind trying to process all that had been told her. Could she use a weapon that would kill potentially thousands in an effort to stop the invasion dead in its tracks here, thus protecting

the rest of the world? What other consequences would there be? Would it even be worth the sacrifice? Maybe they could still push back the enemy!

In her stunned revelry, Anneliese hardly noticed the creature rushing their convoy. It was large, spiked, and grey. She watched in almost lethal disinterest as it smashed the tank. With a single blow, it launched the vehicle in front of them high into the air. It landed with a crunch several stories up the side of a large apartment building.

Rough hands again. This time, they were dragging her out of the vehicle and down a side street.

Her father was dead, and her city was being put to the sword. In spite of everything – all their preparations – it was of no use. They would all soon be dead.

Another explosion tore the sky above them. An airship was dropping toward them. Cici grabbed her and shoved her into the nearby building, then pulled Janus along. Several soldiers followed. “Down, down! Get down!”

The airship apparently righted itself, for they heard its engines struggling, and then felt the explosion as it detonated across the street.

“We need to get to a safe spot!” cried the advisor. Before he could move, a creature burst through the side wall and lunged for his head. He was dead without being able to so much as lift his hands in defense. His headless body toppled and struck the ground with an almost-noiseless thud. Anneliese could only hear screaming, and fire, and roars.

Janus flicked open the glade and rushed the spider-like creature. It rounded on him, jaws slaving, and met the steely green edge. The blade cut deep. Blackish-blue ichor sprayed, and the creature toppled backwards. It writhed violently and died, twitching slightly as it did.

Cici plucked a weapon from the fallen soldier’s body and tossed it to Anneliese. It was some sort of rapier-like blade. “You’ll need as many as you can carry. Come on!”

The surviving soldiers and the three rushed to higher floors. Another explosion rocked the city. The fleet was falling, and doing more damage than they would have prevented.

It had all been a trap – draw as many soldiers into the city, let it be guarded, then strike from all directions at once – wipe out all resistance in one fell swoop. And the airships only made it worse; they were like bombs.

She passed a window on a higher floor and noticed several tethers being drawn up into the clouds. The airships had grown wise to the tactic, and were moving out of the range of the city. Anneliese wasn’t sure that was a comfort – the damage had been done, and now there was no more air defense. The wyvern were coming.

Something heavy struck the building, and they cried out as it physically wobbled.

“I’m beginning to think this is a bad idea.” Muttered Janus. Anneliese noticed his jaw was an angry shade of red. She’d have to remember to apologize if they survived this.

Soon, they breached the top floor.

A wyvern, snakelike and dark grey, swept past, blasting the side of a building with acid. Several soldiers returned fire. It burst into a cloud of greenish-yellow fluid and crashed messily into the side of the building. Its acidic blood streamed out, melting a sizeable hole through the outer structure. Several soldiers topped from the opening.

A large tank, anti-aircraft batteries bristling from its back, rolled into the center street and opened fire on the descending swarms of wyvern. One creature took a blow the side and spiraled into a building across the street. Another managed to splash the tank with acid before it crashed into the ground and died.

The soldiers had no choice but to abandon the tank as it slowly sank into the pavement as the acid dissolved it. The venom dissolved some of the protections on the more volatile armaments, and the vehicle soon erupted into flames.

One of the soldiers accompanying Anneliese dropped a large minigun on the roof and began to pepper the wyvern from there. Another called up on the radios. “We need the dragonriders now! We have the princess. She’s in sector five, by the hospital. We’re taking heavy fire.” He dodged a blast of venom. “Ma’am, you must head for cover.”

Cici drew her pistol and shot at a swooping wivern. The projectile went high and struck a different wyvern in the wing.

“I’m not going anywhere,” replied Anneliese with an aire of finality.

Janus brought his glaive around and decapitated one of the spider creatures that had made it to the roof.

“Dragonriders en route, sir. ETA five minutes.”

Anneliese watched as the wyvern swarm moved farther from them, harassing other parts of town. Now, they had to deal with the spider creatures and the titanic grey things. But, for a brief moment, it seemed as if the soldiers were actually managing to push them back. As they went, the soldiers dropped poison canisters into the Underground. Surely it meant the death of any survivors, but it was that or let every gain be undermined.

Soon, the soldiers formed up perimeters around the central and southern portions of the city and had begun to expand out.

An airship stayed stationed a short distance away. This time, it intentionally dove into the enemy troops, vaporizing them at the cost of the crew’s lives.

Anneliese watched in horror as her people fled from around the city to the safe zone. Men, women, and children – bloody and terrified – filed past the barricades, hotly pursued by the most hellish creatures imaginable. She ran her fingers over the sheet of paper in her pocket – the one titled “Mjolnir Protocol.”

And, as quickly as the invasion had begun, it ceased.

3:00

Hours passed with no activity. The afternoon sun glared down on the city. The canals had begun to dry, taking with them the fountains and other features of the city that helped keep it cool in the blazing heat of the sun.

Soldiers stood behind the barricades, sweating through their uniforms, nervously checking their ammunition and seeing to the sick and wounded. The wyvern had vanished, and the other creatures had long since fled to other parts of the city. The soldiers had begun to carefully expand the safe zone into other regions of the city.

Janus wiped gore off the edge of his blade. He looked exhausted. He leaned on Cici, who was binding a wound on his forearm. Anneliese stepped up.

“I’m sorry.” She said.

Cici glared at her. Janus gave her a distracted look. “All right.”

“I said, I’m sorry.”

“Now’s not the time, Anneliese. Your city’s under attack, and honestly – I don’t care what you are. We’re all going to be dead by morning.”

A soldier stepped up. “Ma’am. What are your orders?”

“Hold this position until we’ve gathered enough strength.” She didn’t know what to do. She added. “If you see an opening to advance – take it. Just don’t stretch us too thin.”

The dragonriders had never come. They had fallen into an ambush, and while they had managed to take out the majority of the wyvern, they had all perished to a man.

“Can we recall the train or the scouts from Highpass?”

The commander shrugged. “We can try. We have no quick way of communicating with the dragonriders gone.”

“Send a shuttle.”

“They’ll be sitting ducks, ma’am.”

“They’re sitting ducks now. Send one.”

“Aye.”

Anneliese turned to Janus. His gaze shifted uneasily, then hardened a little. She turned and walked away.

5:00

Reports filtered into the safe zone. Something large moved a dozen miles or so north, in the upper city, where the canals entered. It had arrived early that morning, but had soon stopped moving altogether. Anneliese knew what it was. It was large – grey-brown, and covered in tentacles. Czernoboch. He had arrived to personally lead the armies. And he was waiting for them to gather. Here.

The initial strike had been wildly successful. It had broken the defenses of the city, scattering the defenders and the civilians too far apart to effectively muster any sort of successful counter-attack. At this moment, soldiers were reporting blood-stained streets and very little civilian presence. They had been dragged off for who-knew-what. But, in spite of the setbacks, a city of this size would take days to conquer – but if Czernoboch fell back and waited, the defenders would clump together once again, and he could strike them down at once.

Anneliese had realized that the airship striking the palace hadn’t been an accident. It had been guided there. The titan striking the convoy had been an attempt on her life. Czernoboch wasn’t stupid. He saw the chaos of a leaderless army as just one more strike in his favor. He had thought himself successful, perhaps, and that’s why he waited.

“He’ll attack at night.” She announced. She had moved into the commander’s tent, and now sat across from a map of the city. As best as the surviving drones had been able to discover, only about one-fifth of the city was under their control. The rest was either burning or infested.

“He’s sitting here, in the canal. He’ll make his move, perhaps using the Underground as cover, and try to strike behind our lines. Can we get men into those tunnels?”

The commander nodded. “These here haven’t been poisoned, and the poison has dissipated from these.” He pointed to two separated sections on the map. “There are sub-tunnels here, here, and here that could house something of his size, if reports are correct, and the subterranean rail system is still active here.” He traced a line from a point about five blocks up to where Czernoboch had been reported.

“So what you’re suggesting,” replied Anneliese, “is a raid – we take the subtrains, run them under Czernoboch, and detonate the poison?”

The commander nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled. “Make it happen.”

The commander called one of his soldiers, swiftly explained the plan, and dispatched him.

“What else can we expect?” She asked, turning back to the map.

“The train will be coming in through the south. We’ll need to send some men to clear a path. The tracks have been destroyed in this area – airship crash – so we’ll only have cover up to that point there.” He pointed to another spot on the map. “Shall I send more there?”

Anneliese nodded. “How many do we have left after that?”

“Soldiers, ma’am, or civilians?”

“Both.”

“We’ve taken heavy losses. I believe at most we’re looking at about a thousand standing forces. We have a civilian population in the safe zone of about a half-million.”

Anneliese’s heart sank – nearly two million citizens unaccounted for, and several thousand soldiers had already fallen. How had it come to this?

“Arm what civilians we can. We’ll need all hands on deck for this.”

Janus

Something had thrilled his heart when he had seen Anneliese for the first time. He remembered it very clearly. Her grace, her beauty – that slight streak of a maverick. He had been awed by her. When the time had come to decide on a guard for her, he had been the only choice, and he had delighted, nay leapt, at the privilege.

He had doted on her throughout that day, and into the next, discharging his duty with zeal.

But then he had been forced to actually… act. He’d been forced to defend her life, and even had he stood back and done nothing, she probably would have survived. She was a fighter of ferocity beyond that he had seen. His people were country bumpkins compared to her.

She had almost died that day, and his had been the first face she had seen. He remembered with a slight bit of remorse the smile she had given him. He had helped her up and had cared for her – until he realized what caring for her truly meant. It meant the death of his people.

As with so many decisions he had been forced to make over the past few days, he felt as if his choice made little difference, or that he really had never had a choice to begin with. There was no returning to his people – and even had he done so, he would have accomplished nothing save his own death. To travel with Anneliese was the choice of self-preservation.

But the shock had nearly crushed him. He hadn’t realized that it was his only option. He hadn’t understood the ramifications. All he knew was that he was damning his people for a girl. And as penance, he had chosen to distance himself from her.

The decision had become easier as time progressed. With Cici needing and receiving his comfort, and with every look at Anneliese reminding him of the homeland he had sacrificed to Czernoboch, the decision seemed to be more firmly set in stone. The fact that Anneliese had been so shaken by his rebuffing of her comfort, even though he had apologized, coupled with the sharp rebuke he received from the orc, only contributed to the pushing away.

Now that he had spent several evenings in the company of Cici, at the expense of his vow, he was finding life more than a bit confusing. Guilt over his repeated failure to protect those around him ate at him. He fought with renewed vigor, as if that would stem guilt’s tide.

Anneliese was becoming the leader she had been born to be, and while he found himself in awe of her again, something in him kept pulling him back. He watched her from afar. She had taken to associating with the human commander of the military more than anything these days. Was it jealousy? He had pushed her away – why did he now envy the commander who got to be in her presence.

Cici’s hand slid into his own. “It’s getting dark. The mission is beginning soon. We need to get ready.”

They had been chosen to join the assault team heading south to secure the train depot. They’d be leaving in another thirty minutes. Janus regretted everything. He looked back over his shoulder. Anneliese was laughing at something. He turned to Cici, and the two of them headed to the rendezvous point.

Anneliese

Since her debacle with Janus on the journey, Anneliese had vowed never to be so unguarded and flirtatious again. But the commander made her feel calm and comfortable. Unlike the other soldiers, he treated her as an equal. There had been no disrespect in his actions, but he still made her feel welcome. She was even able to enjoy the fact that he thought a little differently about things – since he was a human, after all.

His name was Price. She still wasn’t able to get him to admit his first name. The two of them shared a meal that night in his tent while they discussed the missions that were currently underway. A group had already been sent north to fit the subtrain with explosives. From the command center in his

region, they could pilot it directly under Czernoboch’s forces.

“And if that fails, my Princess.”

Anneliese sighed and leaned forward in her chair. She nodded. “I’ll authorize the use of Mjolnir.”

“You understand the consequences?”

She nodded again. Her heart sank at the thought. She honestly didn’t know if she had it in her to actually authorize the use of the Mjolnir Protocol should the time come. It meant that she and everyone nearby would die. She decided to change the conversation once again back to the matter at hand.

“The enemy still hasn’t overrun the entire South, correct?”

“Parts of it, yes, but they should be able to reinforce the position long enough to complete the objective.”

She felt slightly worried for her friends, whom she had not permitted herself to see, but whom she had permitted to go on the mission to liberate the southern perimeter.

“What are the chances Broadford will attack?”

Commander Price shrugged. “At this moment, we have no idea what their strengths or weaknesses are, or if they even know we’re in such trouble. For all we know, they could come to our aid.”

Anneliese remembered the bombardment she had received when fleeing the city, as well as the stories of random citizens being dragged off from the streets. “I don’t think they’d truly come to our aid. The creatures from the south seem to simply want to take advantage of a bad situation.”

The commander nodded. “I trust your judgment on this one ma’am. So I assume we’ll have to go there next?”

“I like your confidence.” Anneliese responded, grabbing a sandwich from the table. She munched on it absently and examined the map again. “What reports have come out of the West?”

“We haven’t been able to reach the Erdun at all. Honestly, I have no idea what to expect from them. But again, we can’t even get in touch with Highpass, and it’s in our territory.”

Anneliese nodded, sadly. They were truly and utterly alone. The attack had come with such speed that evacuation orders hadn’t even been sounded, and many civilians outside the walls were probably already dead. “Any signs of the ghouls?”

The commander shook his head. “Perhaps their still coming through the mountains, or maybe they got stopped at Highpass or Broadford. I have no idea.”

“So they’ll be showing up eventually…” Anneliese added another problem to her mental checklist. “Great. What about the fleet?”

“We’re at about fifty percent efficiency right now. We’re keeping them away from our airspace for safety concerns. Several have been dispatched to round up any survivors, since they’re otherwise rather useless at the moment.”

“So we’ll have to upgrade the fleet as well. How did we get caught this off guard?”

“Czernoboch was a legend. No one believed the myths – they’re over three hundred years old!”

Anneliese nodded, sadly. “I didn’t take them seriously myself until I started to see the fighting in Rift. Then I knew right away – he was real and had returned.”

“How did you know it was him?”

Anneliese looked up. She wondered. “I don’t know – I guess I just knew the only army that could ever commit such destruction to our world had to come from Czernoboch. Even though I thought him a myth – that was the only option.”

“Ma’am?” a soldier stood at the door of the tent.

“Yes?”

“The forces are ready to move out.”

She nodded. For her own safety, the commanders, at the request of Price, had insisted that she stay behind. She had demanded that she should go, but they had forbidden it. “You are all that remains of the royal family or any of the advisors to the king – we have to have your leadership. We can’t afford to lose you. Let the soldiers go.”

She had protested, but in the end had seen their wisdom. They weren’t treating her as a child, but as a precious leader. She relented and had decided to allow them to go on without her. But they would not go without her blessing.

The small cadre of soldiers had assembled near a barricade running up one of the side streets. She stood before them, tears of pride and sorrow in her eyes. “I’ve never been good at speeches, and I am loath to send you out without accompanying you. But war brings burdens we must all bear. Go forth, my friends, my family – and return safely. Know you have the love and thanks of this free city!”

There was no “hurrah” or cheers of any sort. This was a mission requiring speed and stealth. They looked at her with love in their eyes. She had given them hope when it had appeared lost. She

smiled down at them. They were dying for the city, for the other civilians, but at her request. Her heart burned for it. How many would never return? She had begun to understand the burden Cici and Janus carried. Their people had already been eradicated. Now, she stood before them, knowing it was likely to be the end for all of them.

“Where there is life, there is hope. Go, with my love and thanks.”

They silently filed out of the safezone, each receiving a light touch from their princess. It heartened them, and they soon began to jog, then run into the dangerous darkness settling over the city.

When they were gone, she turned to the commander. “How long do they have?”

“Less than an hour until night has fallen. After that, who knows? The enemy is crafty, and could attack at any time.”

“Think he’s on to us?”

“He knows we’ll try something. I just don’t think he’s figured out what, yet.”

Anneliese nodded.

“Ma’am, if I may?”

She acknowledged him. “Yes?”

“You need sleep, ma’am. Please, take the cot in my tent. I’ll be up for a while longer. I’ll stay with my men.”

She shook her head. “No, I couldn’t. You need it more than I do. You’re the commander of these troops.”

He refused. “I am needed for a while longer, and you’ll be needed tomorrow – if only for the hope you give your people. Get rest, my lady. Please.”

She smiled and relented. “I promise nothing. Who knows if I’ll even be able to sleep.”

“Just try. The cot’s not comfortable, but it’s something.”

Price

He separated from his princess and returned to the northern barricade. It wasn’t as if it would actually hold back any of the intruders. They were too powerful. All it would take is one of those titan things – a few blows and the wall would collapse. That, or the poison in the Underground could lighten, allowing those spider things to invade from below.

That had been the part of the attack he hadn’t expected. An attack from all directions at once –

who could plan for that? His men, armed with gasmasks, were currently dropping into the Underground, looking for survivors or other holdouts.

Even with the masks, he ordered them to return within ten minutes. No use risking contamination – not when they were already stretched so thin.

He sat next to a guard. The man was holding a cup of coffee. “Any news? Is the princess all right, commander?”

“For now. She’s been through a lot, but she’s keeping it together.”

The guard took a sip of the coffee. “Want any?”

The commander took the cup and drank a little. It was lukewarm, but still tasted good. “Thanks. Anything to report?”

“Not yet. We’ve been sending out sorties all afternoon, keeping the streets to the north clear. But who knows what’s hiding out up there?”

It was true. Here in the city, dangers came from all directions. Typical warfare of “barricade and defend” was outdated here. Armies could assemble in buildings, using them as effective, ready-build fortresses. With wyvern and other creatures of the sky, any place in the “safezone” was susceptible to attack. Soldiers now patrolled, with citizen volunteers, all areas, on high alert.

Night was coming, and thankfully the power was still on. Several buildings still burned here and there, but they had mostly died down – due to the construction techniques of the Caphon architects. Steel and concrete tended to melt, collapse, maybe burn for a little while as desks or other materials smoldered – but they didn’t typically spread.

“Are those buildings secure?”

“Block by block, sir. The soldiers are moving up as we speak. In another hour, we’ll have this entire section cleared. There really hasn’t been a whole lot of resistance.”

“And still no ghoul activity.”

“Not a lick. Are you sure she said they were ghouls?” asked the guard, looking out over the devastated streets.

“I don’t think she’d be able to confuse that one. Trust me, there are ghouls somewhere.”

“Not here, apparently. Could they have been wiped out at Highpass?”

The commander shook his head. “Doubt it. Any army of ghouls is almost a worse threat than this rampaging army. They just keep coming.”

“Well, let’s hope they hit Broadford, then. Let that army from the south deal with them. Both sound like something we don’t want to face. If they wipe each other out…”

The commander nodded. “One can only hope.”

“What about the princess? Is she holding up?”

Price noticed the repeated question. The guard was quivering a little. He calmly responded while placing a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. “She’s been through a lot, but she’s surprisingly on top of things. It was her idea to use the subtrains as a weapon, and she was totally for the mission to secure the southern station.”

“Can we secure the canals?”

The commander looked at the soldier in confusion. “Why do you ask?”

“Haven’t you noticed? They’re drying up. Whatever has taken over the north is blocking rivers from entering our canals. Pretty soon, we’ll have a problem on our hands – I don’t know what they’re planning, but it’s not going to be pretty if we run out of water.”

The commander sighed. He looked from the barricade to the nearest canal, several streets over, yet visible from his perch. He could see the concrete walls, but no water, it had gotten so low.

“Wonder what they have planned?”

The soldier shrugged. “I just shoot them. Figuring out their thinking is your job – er, sir!” he said with a nervous smile.

The commander gave his friend and affectionate pat on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work. Someone should be by at midnight to relieve you.”

“Thank you, sir. Have a good night.”

The commander found himself visiting other soldiers around the northern part of the safe zone. Each seemed to tell a similar story – all was silent; they seemed to be making progress; the canals seemed too low for any of their comfort.

“Think they’re going to storm through the canal trenches?” one soldier had asked.

The commander shook his head. “No. The walls are too steep, and the ramps to get out are too high if they drain them completely.”

In all honesty, he had no idea why Czernoboch was wasting time damming up the rivers entering the city. There was no strategic value to an empty canal, and they all had enough water to last for several days of siege.

Was there something the monster could do with the water?

The commander shook his head, and returned to his tent. He needed to look at the maps again. As he entered and turned on the lamp, he remembered Anneliese. She was sleeping in the corner, on his cot. Her blonde hair streamed down the pillow and off the edge of the cot. He smiled. She was a gentle soul, and didn’t deserve any of this. She had lost more than all of them.

Yet she had handled it all with such grace. He sat in the darkness and watched her for several minutes, then got to work examining the various routes through the city. The entire center had been destroyed – so many shuttles had crashed there. The East was dark – no one knew what was happening. The West was largely uninhabited, but large swaths of it were still smoldering – some older buildings were still in use there, and so large blocks had been razed by out-of-control fires.

The North was apparently the center of the invasion. Czernoboch had last been seen at the northern water gate, and if the commander knew anything – it was that the old monster was directly responsible for the water draining from the waterways.

Cici

Her heart pounded in her chest. She clenched a pistol in one hand and a dagger in the other. She had already taken down one of those spider-like creatures. Its beady eyes had stared soullessly at her as she plunged the blade into its neck and sawed its head from its body. The legs had twitched, and it had died. She stood beside Janus. He brought the glaive down into the carapace of the creature with a rewarding crunch.

“Better safe than sorry.” He whispered. They rushed on to catch up with the other forces. They had been making their way down the street in a “V” formation, eliminating any and all enemies as they spotted them.

They needed those soldiers, supplies, and arms – and needed them back to the safezone as quickly as possible.

There had been surprisingly little resistance.

Janus brought his glaive around and severed the scythe-like arm of another one of those spider creatures. It spun off down an alley. The creature seemed confused, staring at the bleeding stub of its arm. Cici slid forward and brought her blade slashing upwards. It pierced the chest armor of the creature, and it slid sideways, dead.

“They aren’t fighting back – well, not with the force they had before. What’s going on?”

Other soldiers had begun noticing similar phenomenon. The creatures put up half-hearted resistance, at best.

“What are they trying to prove?” she asked. She and Janus followed the other soldiers, each taking turns clearing the creatures from the streets. Periodically, they’d stop and drop poison into the Underground. “Where’s that station?”

“Up ahead,” whispered a soldier. He pointed. The tracks entering the city ended at a large transit hub. It appeared that the tracks continued underground, and the train apparently could become part of the subtrain system. To Cici’s knowledge, it never did, since there was usually an entire network unto itself down there. The train at the moment would stop at a removeable barricade and unload passengers, which could then head down ramps and stairs into the Underground.

The train hadn’t arrived yet. A soldier informed them. “It’s blocked by debris. We’ll have to go clear the tracks and escort it up here.”

They followed the tracks down through the city. This route was more direct than the streets, and they made good time. They found the obstruction. It was a large wall of concrete, apparently put there by the large titan creatures she had seen first back in her house in Rift.

One creature was still arranging the refuse. Large shafts of metal protruded from the concrete. It scratched itself and returned to fetch more rubble.

The soldiers hid in one of the maintenance shafts that extended off the side of the rail network. “What are they doing?”

“Looks like they’re sealing us in, or sealing something out.”

Cici watched as two more of the titans came with large chunks, apparently ripped from a nearby building, or even the street. She couldn’t tell. Metal edges caught in the street lights.

“Do we still have power on these rails?”

“I would imagine so.” Replied the soldier. “But it’s not able to damage us – we can’t complete the circuit, we’re too short.”

“What about them?” Cici asked.

The soldier shook his head. “Too risky – could short out the whole system. Then we’d lose the train.”

“So, we can’t kill them on the tracks then?”

The soldier nodded glumly. “Apparently, that’s the case…”

“Why don’t we get to high ground?” Cici asked. “We’ll get up on one of those buildings, draw off the titans, and you guys can clear the debris.”

The soldier thought for a moment and shrugged. “Sounds good enough.” He looked at his wrick. A small screen showed several of the surrounding areas. “There was a battalion stationed up there before everything went down. There might still be some weaponry.” He pointed at a nearby high-rise. “Get up there and start shooting. Hopefully it will draw off these guys.”

Cici nodded, and she and Janus sprinted across the track, into another maintenance corridor, and made their way to the street. They found the building in question and began the hike to the top of it. Minutes ticked by. They finally arrived at the top of the building.

“You know everything in the area’s going to close on us the moment you start shooting, right?” Janus asked, noting the skeletons, half-dissolved in acid, lying in heaps across the roof top.

Cici was busy setting up damaged equipment. She placed a minigun on the edge of the building and fed the belt into the side of it. “You’ll watch the roof entrance, right?”

Janus gave his glaive a test swing. He nodded. They had already barricaded the door, but if something really wanted to get through – it would.

“Here goes…”

She pulled the trigger, showering the brutes below with hot lead.

Soldier

A small group stood in the tunnels of the Underground, watching the subtrain move off toward the north. It was fitted with a proximity explosive, which would detonate when within a few hundred yards of the north station. The soldiers smiled and congratulated each other.

Then came the attack. The creatures scuttled along the ceiling, using their legs for grip, then dropped down onto the soldiers one by one. The troops fought back with desperation, but it was to no avail. Men toppled, bleeding, to the tracks, stumbling and staggering. One pulled himself upright and reached for a poison grenade. He was dead before he could remove the pin.

The last surviving soldier rushed toward the departing train and hauled himself aboard. He knew it was to be his death, but he had to make sure the train made it to the end of the tunnel. He drew two grenades and hurled them out of the windows. They bounced off the walls and clinked into place on the tracks behind him.

Clouds of gas suddenly flashed from them, choking out the creatures as they tried to pursue. The soldier rushed up between the cars, pausing occasionally to steady himself as they bucked and bounced. He made it to the cabin and shoved the drive mechanism as far forward as it would go. The train picked up speed. He knew if anything went wrong, the train would completely derail, but with the tunnels as infested as they were, he couldn’t take the chance.

He primed a gas grenade and hurled it out the window, then readied his weapon. He could feel the heavy thudding as creature after creature boarded the subtrain and made for the control room.

“For you, lady Anneliese!”

Anneliese

She woke shortly before midnight. The tent was dark, save for the faint streetlights outside, which shown through the canvas fabric. She stretched and threw her feet over the edge of the cot. She adjusted her clothes and brushed herself off. She would need to look somewhat presentable.

She grabbed her set of daggers and fastened them to her waste. Something new was resting near her. It hadn’t been there last night. It was a long, golden-colored blade. Shaking, she grasped it. It was balance perfectly, and the grip seemed fitted for her hand. Horror clutched her chest. First Janus’s glaive, now this blade. She had seen it before.

A quiver ran through the camp.

“Czernoboch is coming!”

Day 9

Northern Canals

An explosion rocked the northern part of the city. Flames leapt high into the night. Czernoboch roared in anger. It wasn’t time! In wrath, he gave the order. The waters released.

The wave tore down the streets of the city. It ravaged the remaining buildings, leveling some, flooding around others and continuing on its rampage. Water flooded the canals and spread. A massive deluge drew debris, bodies, and machines after it, depositing them randomly around the city.

Refuse-laden waves closed on the crater of the palace, clogged the underground with more flotsam, and flowed back out, spraying high into the air as it did so.

Price

He had seconds to react. He grabbed the princess by the hand and dragged her from the tent. “I can’t explain, ma’am. You must come with me, now.” He dragged her to the street.

“Everyone, to high ground – now!”

“Were we successful? What’s happening?”

He shoved her into the open door of a nearby building. “Get to the roof, now!” He rushed back out.

Anneliese listened, hearing behind her the screams and shouts as civilians and soldiers raced for higher floors. She led the charge, running with all the strength she had left. Aches and pains screamed, but she put them aside and limped/ran her way upward, pausing only to catch her breath. She burst out the door onto the roof and looked out across the smoking remnants of the city. Her heart leapt into her throat. A wave of water, nearly twenty feet high, was crashing toward them.

The river had been dammed up for most of the day. Had this been the plan all along?

She saw a dark shape moving behind rapidly along it. “Everyone, brace yourselves!”

The wave crashed into them, and she felt the building list treacherously, its supports straining and groaning as it attempted to fight against the strain. Screams from below announced the fate of those who had not escaped in time. The safezone was now underwater. She watched as the wave coursed onward through the ruined city. The wave was getting lower and lower all the time, losing momentum as it struck building after building. How had the monster managed to keep that much water in store?

She watched as a beast – nearly thirty feet tall – menacingly pulsed its way across the devastated ground. Buildings crumpled and toppled in its mighty wake. For something so large, it was unbelievably fast. Within moments of her sighting it, it was upon them. It dragged its shapeless form toward her, tentacles waving erratically.

She drew her blade and gasped. A large tentacle smashed into the building, and she felt the edifice shudder. The creature struck again, and the building sagged sideways. “It’s coming down!” she cried. “Get hold of something!”

Czernoboch had sacrificed almost his entire army for this moment. His massive form crunched against the building. He was bringing it down by force along. She could see his tendrils snaking their way through the windows below. They withdrew, dragging women and children, kicking and shrieking, toward his awful maw.

Massive jaws, filled with jagged, evil teeth, crunched down on the innocent civilians. He reached in again, drew out more, and consumed them. She cried out to a soldier. “Call in the fleet! Stop him at all costs!”

The call went out, and soon the whump, whump of the airships made the fleet’s presence known. She knew whatever wyvern had survived the assault of the dragon riders would soon return – but she had no choice. Czernoboch had to be stopped now – and no price was too high to pay.

“Shall we call down the Mjolnir Protocol, ma’am?”

She hesitated. Bullets tore from nearby buildings. They thudded harmlessly against the thick flesh and knobby carapace that protected the body of the beast. He burrowed his massive form into the

building and was beginning to crawl out the other side like a massive slug.

“We need to get to ground!” cried another soldier.

“There’s no way!”

“Up there!” A shuttle was coming in for a run on the creature. Anneliese waved it down. “Tell it to land and get as many of these people to safety.”

“We can’t do that, ma’am. We have orders – your safety is all that matters right now.”

“I’m the ruler of this city. I give the orders. You will take these civilians to safety – now!”

She stood her ground. “It will be considered an act of insubordination if you try to get me on that ship. These people go first. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She watched as Czernoboch pulled his mass from the mortally wounded building and descended into the remains of the safezone. Any survivors that had fled out of the building were immediately beset upon by the spider-creatures, which seemed to be crawling from the plates of his flesh. It was a blood bath.

Anneliese watched as the shuttle rose off the building. She and the two soldiers stood vigil.

“Ma’am, we have to get you off this roof. It’s not safe anymore. The wyvern—“ His comment was cut short as a wyvern strafed the shuttle. It exploded midair and dropped. She rushed to the edge of the building and leapt as the craft exploded against the roof – right where she and the two soldiers had been standing.

One soldier clutched her around the waste and fired a grapnel toward the other side of the street. “Brace yourself, ma’am! This is gonna hurt”

The grapnel stuck deep in the face of the distant structure, and she screamed with exhilaration and fear as they swept in a constantly-accelerating arc toward the structure. Their fall terminated several yards from the ground, but at this speed, they’d be crushed against the other building.

Reacting quickly, the soldier dropped his weapon, pulled another grapnel from his supplies, and fired again. It stretched out and barely caught another building. Their momentum momentarily halted, the swept toward a new danger. Below them lay the newly-refilled canal. A backwave of debris had refilled many of them, and the water from the streets had begun to return to its rightful place. If they could time it right…

The soldier released his hold, and the plummeted toward the water. He made as best an effort as he could to put himself under her. He pulled her tight against himself and crunched into the water.

He managed to push her away at the last moment. This enabled her to land in the middle of the canal, but the action cost him everything.

The soldier thudded loudly against the sharp concrete wall of the canal. His spine broke, his body pitched backwards and landed several feet away, twitching. Anneliese pulled herself from the canal and rushed to his side. His body convulsed, blood streamed from his mouth. He gurgled for several moments, then went rigid.

“Thank you…” she muttered. She looked up. Czernoboch was devastating their defenses. She watched in horror as titans began to swarm from the ruined buildings. She stumbled across something in the dirt. It was her sword. She plucked it from its muddy rest and charged into the fray. If she was going to die, she was going down fighting.

A convoy of jeeps roared into the park-like area where they had been camping the previous night. Between the water and the beast, no tents remained. Bodies did, however. Strewn about, her people lay slaughtered. She whirled the sword with the skill of a master, wondering if she felt more confident than she should, and rushed at the nearest group of her men. They were in a circle, shooting in all directions. She rushed up, spearing her sword through the torso of the nearest bug. It screamed and twitched. She wrenched the blade upward, splitting the body in two as she did.

With the grace of her elven heritage, she leapt off the body as it fell, severing the top half of another as she descended. The blade seemed to cut before she could swing, it was so sharp. She speared another through the abdomen, split it to the end, then swept several legs off before it could recover.

The soldiers rallied at her presence, and began to push the spider-things back.

The convoy sped past, closing on the massive Czernoboch and opening up the miniguns on him.

Shuttles began to descend, some harried by wyvern, others using their own weapons to make as many hits on the massive beast as they could.

“Anneliese!”

She turned, driving past them in the jeep was Janus. His glaive was sitting in the passenger seat, wet with blood. “We couldn’t get to the train in time! The wave destroyed everything.”

“Figures. Where’s Cici?” she asked.

The girl waved from the back of a jeep. She had been manning the turret. She thumped the side of the jeep. “C’mon! Let’s finish this.”

Janus revved the jeep, giving Anneliese a wink as he sped past. She smiled, and saluted him. “Thank you.” She mouthed. The jeep sped off toward the beast.

Anneliese charged the enemies.

Then it happened.

Czernoboch switched directions. The bombardment was knocked back. He turned to the nearest shuttle and fired a single bolt from behind one of his carapace plates. It pierced the ship, which listed sideways and exploded. Then his eyes locked on the convoy of jeeps closing on him. He swept it away with a single motion. The jeep Janus had been driving skidded sideways, caught on some rubble, and almost tumbled.

The beast pursued, raising a large tentacle. Cici’s turret glowed red-hot as she unloaded everything on the beast.

Tracer rounds tore out of the barrel, punctuating as every round struck home. The beast was furious. It roared, and massive spikes spread in all directions. Anneliese found herself dropping as they thudded around her. One pierced through the armor in one of her soldiers’ chest. He flopped backwards.

She gripped her blade, for what good it would do, and charged.

She remembered the dream. Flames, tentacles, Cici manning a gun while Janus fought of intruders with his glaive. Would it all come true?

She made her own fate. She decided her destiny. She rushed forward, her sword glinting. Titans, spider creatures, even the occasional black, glowing-eyes creature, fell before her. She was taking this conflict directly to Czernoboch. He turned again and brought a massive tentacle down on Janus’s jeep. The elf managed to lunge out of the way before being crushed.

When the smoke and rubble cleared, Anneliese could see them off in the distance. Cici was still holding on to the broken minigun. She had wrenched it off the back of the jeep when it had been struck. She was injured, and Janus was standing over her, glaive at the ready. They were being swarmed. Anneliese lost sight of them.

She turned to the nearest soldier. “Mjolnir! Mjolnir Protocol. Signal it!”

“But… ma’am!”

“I know what it means. Send the order. Now!”

She rushed the enemy. Her life was forfeit now, anyway. There was no escaping this city. She would do as much damage to the enemy as she could – the next battle would finish the rest, even if they wouldn’t be the ones fighting it.

An explosion rocked the ground again as another batch of spines tore across her forces. One pierced her in the shoulder – the same shoulder that had been recovering from the bullet wound. It

passed clean through. She screamed and fell to the ground.

Czernoboch rounded on her, his massive bulk towering high. Tentacles twisted malevolently around his face, black ichor dribbled from his mouth and down the front of his heavily-damaged chest carapace. His eyes – dozens of them, it seemed, probed her. A strange, pulsating mouth, all tentacles and teeth, closed down over her.

“You will not touch her!” She looked up. It was Price! Blood flowed from a dozen wounds. He was barely standing. He was holding her dropped sword, pointing it up at the massive behemoth.

She grimaced and stared at the destroyed ruins of the city smoldering around her. She slowly pushed herself upright and placed a hand over her wounded shoulder. Blood oozed between her fingers. She turned. Janus and Cici were pulling themselves upright.

They could still make it out. Price turned to her. “Can you make it out?”

A jeep nearby idled. The driver was dead next to the steering wheel. She could board it and escape – grab her friends on the way. She could make it!

An explosion struck the ground next to the monster.

Czernoboch turned his mass toward an oncoming airship, roaring in defiance. His attention was distracted. She and her friends could escape. She turned back to Price. He would never leave. She’d be sacrificing him – and all of her people – so she could escape. No. If they were going to die – she was going to die with them.

“Price! Mjolnir! Do it! Now!”

Price, sword still pointing at the beast, ordered the attack. “Activate Mjolnir Protocol! Finish this!”

The airship in the distance exploded as Czernoboch struck out at it. It turned toward her.

Price shouted again. “By order of the princess, activate Mjolnir Protocol! Now!”

The beast reared up and roared so loudly she thought her ears would burst.

The last she heard was Price screaming into the radio as a large claw descended upon them.

Then everything went black.

Corrie

She awoke with a gasp. Her body screamed in pain. She blinked several times. She was in a large, clear container. She tried to move her arm. It wouldn’t.

A man with black hair stepped up to the other side. He opened the door to her chamber and reached in. “Congratulations, my dear. You survived to the end.”

She tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. She took an unsteady, awkward step forward.

“Sorry, it’s going to be awkward for a while. You haven’t used your real muscles for quite some time.” He turned to a man sitting at a keyboard. “How long has it been?”

“About nine days, sir.”

Corrie’s mind swam. “What’s going on? Where am I? What about the city?”

“Oh, you won. I’m afraid you didn’t survive completely, but you won. You stopped the advance.”

She was confused. Two lives’ worth of memories fought for dominance. “What do you mean?”

“You are part of Project: Earthsword. An advanced training simulator we’re using to plan a strike back at the invaders.”

“The what?”

“Your memories were wiped when you entered the machine, and false ones were fed to you. You’ll be recovering your real-world memories soon enough. You made it farthest, and endured more than anyone else, either.”

Corrie tumbled to the floor, unsteady and quivering. “What?”

“You’re part of the planning stage, let’s call it. Let Commander Price know.”

“Price?”

The man with black hair smiled as he helped her back up. “Let’s get you something to eat. You need some rest. Your trials aren’t over yet.”

She looked into his eyes, and was sure all he saw was fear.

“But… what? I don’t understand.”

“It was all a simulation, Corrie. Your avatar was named Anneliese. You modeled her after yourself, so you could more accurately adapt to the world. Your friends have already been taken to the medical wing. All test subjects are now being pulled from the game.”

“It was all just a simulation?”

“Well, not exactly. The wounds you sustained were actually quite real. We pulled you out of

there just in time. We’ve been rather busy doing that the last day.”

Corrie felt her mind swimming, and she collapsed unceremoniously to the floor and passed out.

Command

“When will their true memories return?”

Keyboard shrugged. “Dunno. Clifford’s returned pretty soon, but he was only in there for about a day or so. We haven’t seen what long-term exposure does to the human brain. Normally, the real-vs-simulation time is not 1-to-1.”

Black-hair looked down at Corrie, who now lay on the floor, her long blonde hair mirroring that of her avatar. “Will she be okay?”

“Well, she passed trial one. That’ll give us a chance to fight back. I’m afraid her injuries are too great to allow her to remain out of the simulation for long. I think we’ll have to put her back in.”

“Can’t you just clear the enemies out of the server?”

“I can’t delete anything.”

Black-hair folded his arms. “Look like they get a respawn, eh?”