A young boy ran, laughing, into a ruined Tower. He was strong, lithe, and brown as the dirt he raced over. Behind him, a strong, stout man with long black hair ran, laughing just as hard. He wore only a kilt, having returned from the fields recently, where he and the boy had labored all day.
From the window, a woman heavy with child looked out at the two males cavorting in the dust and rolled her eyes. Fortunately, her daytime companion had prepared the bath for the others. She turned to him.
Storm lay on the floor, playing with three young ones. A seven year old girl, five year old boy, and two year old boy. His mask was on the floor, the young ones being unperturbed by his strange appearance. The baby kept trying to put his fist in the skeletal nasal cavity, causing constant smiles from behind the fleshy mask over the warrior's mouth.
It had been ten years since the FireStorm, ten long, weary years. Storm and Dubaios had cleared the land, Dubaios and Martea, the woman, had been married, and children had been born. Only 6 humans and Storm lived in the whole of Cortalia. 6 humans.
Dubaios, still laughing, came in, carrying his eldest, Zoltar. Storm rose and tousled the boy's hair, then knelt to hug each of the children. Replacing his mask, he grabbed his harness, did a quick series of signs to Dubaios, and left the Tower.
Dubaios walked over to his wife and kissed her, then felt the bump on her belly. He spoke a few quiet nothings to it, and smiled hugely when a soft *thud* from inside informed him that the baby was listening.
"This one is a boy. He kicks so much."
Dubaios laughed. "Yes, another son. It is as Craos wills." He embraced his wife, then shooed the children up to the roof to bathe.
The family ate dinner together, then the children went to bed.
Dubaios and Martea stayed up, talking to each other.
"Something is wrong with Storm."
Dubaios rolled over. "Beg pardon?"
Martea adjusted herself against the carved headboard. "He hasn't been himself lately. He barely plays with the children anymore. He hasn't done signing practice in weeks."
Dubaios sighed and rubbed his wife's bulging belly.
"Storm's ways are not our ways. He is... different. I have my doubts of his humanity."
"What else could he be?"
Dubaios shrugged. "It's more than I could say." He looked into his wife's eyes. "How are you feeling?"
Martea shifted. "Uneasy. The baby's too quiet."
"Nonsense. This one will be born healthy, as the others were." Kissing his wife, he whispered, "Goodnight, my love."
Storm galloped across the plains, mile after mile. His trusty steed ate up twenty miles before beginning to slow, as the land changed.
Instead of the light green that had sprung up in the past ten years, a gash crossed the land. A mile long and a spear's throw wide, it made an ugly mark on Cortalia's surface. Storm dismounted, patted his trusty charger, and went to the edge.
He stood on the edge, seeming to consider next movement. Then, he took off his mask. He laid it carefully on the ground. His cloak followed, then the rest of his gear and clothing. His long hair, in a simply ponytail as usual, tickled his back. He loosened his muscles for a moment, then he dove.
One hundred feet down, his muscular body plunged into icy water. He began to swim down, farther and farther. When he had exhausted his air supply, he raced with superhuman speed to the surface. His skeletal nose sucked air in. His eyes glowed, searching the rim of the gorge, he knew not what for.
After swimming for an hour or so, he climbed up a rocky set of stairs, carved by his own hand into the rock, reaching the rim of the gorge again about half past midnight.
He walked around for a while, drying off. After he had redressed, he heard a noise. A crunch. Very close at hand. He turned, slowly, to face a wolf. Storm looked a bit confused, as did the wolf.
It was very thin, to the point of starvation. It had a mangy black coat, dim red eyes, and a sad sag of its back. Storm considered him for a moment, and coming to the conclusion that he was curious, not vicious, slowly approached. The dog nuzzled his hand. Picking the sad bundle up, Storm rode away, leaving the mysterious gorge in the moonlight.
In the morning, Dubaios went downstairs to find trouble waiting for him. Martea was on the table, with the dog patrolling around, snapping at her heels whenever she tried to get off the rough wooden plank. Dubaios' entry caused the hound to rush over to the ladder, snapping. For the next moments, the dog went wild, back and forth.
Then Storm entered. Seeing the situation, he dropped the firewood instantly. Rushing to the dog, he dropped on his knees, cupping its head in his hands. Soft mumblings came from the mask, and the dog, slowly, began to relax. It recognized the feel of the gloved hands, and the mutterings that would have once been words.
It began to focus on the mask, directly in from of him. Finally, he nuzzled the strong arms that embraced him. Dubaios and Martea, slowly, entered the room and climbed off the table, then came together and linked hands. Dubaios felt that Martea's heartbeat was racing, as she was terrified.
"Go lie down. Your heartbeat is too fast for safety."
Martea nodded, and slowly climbed the ladder. She looked haggard, as if twenty years older than she was. Dubaios, worried, looked after her, even after she closed the trapdoor. When he heard the second trapdoor's soft thud, he whirled on Storm.
"What in the name of the Devil himself do you think you're doing?"
Siging, Storm replied, "He was hungry"
"AND WHAT DO I CARE?! THAT IS MY-"
Storm laid a gloved hand on Dubaios' mouth, pointing to a little bundle in the corner. The eldest child lay there, fast asleep. Dubaios nodded, then motioned outside, saying, "Bring the cur."
Once outside, he shoved Storm into the wall. Whispering low, he asked, "Do you really want to die, Storm? I thought you knew better than to do something like this."
Suddenly, the dog, who had been so vicious moments earlier, began to nuzzled Dubaios' hand. The merchant gave it a light slap, not angry, between the ears, to go away. The dog persisted. Finally, Dubaios looked at him.
The dog was looking at him with a happy gesture, tail wagging. The mouth was hanging open, with a great red tongue hanging out. Dubaios, almost against his will, gave the huge dog a pat on the head. Giving Storm a frustrated shrug, he returned inside to check on Martea.
Storm looked at the big dog, now so happy at finding more friends.
Zoltar.
That's what I'll name you, you big lout.
Giving the dog's ears a scratch, he returned inside as well, to prepare some food.
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Sunday, August 14, 2016
Chapter 7 - New Beginnings and Old Foes
When the entire face of Cortalia had been scorched, Vira`il lifted his Hammer. Turning to Falior, he said, "Our work here is done, Archangel. Are the Humans safe?"
"The last one is a bit shaken, but yes. They are safe." Falior lifted his massive wings, looking at the four humans and three horses huddled beneath. "All clear, now, younglings." The four emerged onto a plain of black dust, charred trees, and empty stone buildings. No humans could be seen; the busy town was silent. They had all become heaps of ash.
Storm was the first to shake off the stupor the firestorm had induced. He tapped Dubaios on the arm, motioning that he would be back in a few hours. The Servant Master nodded, and turned to Berius. "Permission to inspect the Tower, sir?"
"Permission granted."
For an hour, Dubaios looked over the Tower grounds, seeing where seeds could be planted, where defenses against animals could be constructed, and other general improvements.
Storm trotted up on his mount, a bag in his hand and one slung over the saddlebow. He gave the bag in his hand to Berius, who opened it to find grain seeds, a Godsend. Storm motioned Dubaios and Berius behind the Tower, staying Martea from following them.
He opened the second bag. A snake dropped out, still alive. Storm grabbed it at the base of the head, showing the open mouth to the two watchers.
They both jumped back. Two long fangs protruded from the open mouth; two fangs snakes had never had before. Storm killed the snake with a knife before gesturing to Dubaios for a few moments.
"He says that all the animals tried to kill him. We are no longer safe."
Berius looked out at the wide swath of forest before the Tower.
"Chaos."
Down in the Devil's Realm, or Hell, Chaos lounged on his throne. In the silence of Cortalia, he heard Berius' single word. The wide mouth, full of needle-like teeth, opened in a hideous grin.
"Yes, Berius. Chaos."
But the changing of the animals from peaceable herbivores to vicious carnivores wasn't the only trick up Chaos' sleeve. He looked through his Crystal Ball at the world and saw Storm. The tall, slim figure glided through the grass, exterminating snakes and other vermin left and right.
"This will never do. We need to take care of this strange man."
Chaos stood and clapped. The thunderous sound rolled out through the dark caverns of Hell, the force so powerful that the ghosts of the damned were shoved back a few feet as they floated on their miserable way. Out of the pits and the doorways of the Temples on the gloomy hills, the Demons looked up at the Dark Throne.
Roaring so loud that the Traflicaz shook, Chaos shouted, "WHO WILL RID ME OF THE WARRIOR?"
For a few moments, no one moved. Then, Chaos saw movement behind War and Famine. A small demon came forward. Walking up the steps of the throne, she looked Chaos in the eye and said sweetly, "I'll do it, sweetie." She giggled a little as Chaos raised an eyebrow, looking her up and down.
She had taken the form of a gorgeous woman, dressed in an evening gown. Her hair was dark as night, her eyes blue as a spring in winter. Her lips were red, contrasting with her very white skin. She smiled sweetly at Chaos.
Lust.
Chaos grinned widely. He reached forward, taking her slender hand in his mighty claw. He brought it to his lips. "Go. Make him fall as we made the First Man and Woman fall."
"Of course, baby. Make sure you save me a spot for dinner." She gave him a flirtatious wink and flip of her hair, and was gone.
Storm was finishing his lap when he heard a crunching in the woods. He turned to face a woman, dressed in a red material he had never seen, beckoning to him. Behind the mask, his eyes narrowed. He knew for a fact that he had been the last one into the Tower, and he would have noticed a woman as beautiful as she was. However, he followed.
She led him for a mile or so until she reached a stream. There, she turned to him, smiling. Her hands reached for her shoulder straps.
Beneath the mask, his eyes opened wide. His hand shot out, stopping hers. He shook his head vigorously at her.
"Okay then, sweetie. We'll do it the old fashioned way." Her hand slid out of his grasp and grabbed his shoulder. She pulled herself in with her left hand, as her right grasped a dagger firmly. As her left hand moved up to his head, seemingly to kiss his mask, the dagger was driven home.
Storm stood still for a moment, in shock. He slumped to his knees, then to all fours.
Lust giggled. "You men." She drew the katana from the left hand sheath, testing its weight. "Now to finish the job." She hefted the sword and brought it down.
*CLANG*
It hit his bracer. He had lifted his arm to block the blade. Lust looked confused, taken aback. Taking the opportunity, Storm jumped up and roundhouse kicked her in the face. She staggered back, her nose cracked and gushing blood, her eyes streaming tears. She looked at him imploringly, but her charms were lost on the warrior. She had wasted her chance to kill him. It was do or die now.
She swung the katana as he rushed towards her. He dropped to his knees, sliding under the deadly horizontal slice. He grabbed her waist and threw her to the ground. The concussive force stunned her, but not long enough to prevent her from blocking his downward punch with a upward parry. Going for the dirty tactics, she kneed him between the legs. Temporarily stunned, he rolled away. She got up, shook herself and raised the sword again.
Again, the bracer blocked the downward slice. He grabbed the blade with his gloved hands and wrenched it out of hers, scratching her leg in the process. First blood. She screamed a little, cutting it off when she remembered Dubaios was still within hearing distance.
She punch down toward the warrior, but the Demon of Lust is not a fighter. She is an adultress. Her evil talents lie in her deceptive nature, not the speed of her arm. All she got was a punch to the gut.
However, she said a spell, meant to kill him. The energy depletion made her grimace, and she groaned when all that happened was his mask falling off. When he looked at her, and she looked into his eyes, she screamed in fear.
His face was covered in scars. His hair, also black, lay in a neat ponytail under his hood. That wasn't what made her scream, however. It was his nose, eyes, and mouth.
His eyes were golden orbs. No pupils or eyelids. Solid gold orbs.
His nose was a cavity, like a skeleton's. No cartilage whatsoever.
His mouth was sewn shut. The operation seemed to have taken place years ago, because the skin had grown over the aperture.
His eyes glowed. His hands met, on punching the other's palm. A shockwave threw her off her feet. He leapt higher then any man out to be able to, twenty feet at least. In air, he drew the other katana. As he landed, he buried it deep in her chest. However, she simply got up. The blade went through her body like a ghost's. Storm looked confused until she snapped her fingers.
Her true form was revealed. She was a Siren Demon, the ghost of a beautiful woman. Her skin was pale as snow, and shrunken to cover her bones. She was dressed in rags. Claws ended her dangerously thin arms. However, her sweet voice remained the same.
"Don't do this, my dear."
Storm seemed to be laughing beneath his skin gag. Reaching behind him, he drew another sword, strapped to the back of his right leg.
It was a golden sword, covered in runes. He swung it and the air hummed.
"A LifeSpark Blade... WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?!" The Demon shrieked. Storm was definitely laughing now.
The LifeSpark was the last gift left by Craos to Tu`il and Te`ara. It was magical chunk of metal that the two hid away, only using it to make three blades. This blade, the Sword, was the first one. It was imbued with prayers to Craos for protection. It had the power to banish Demons for a time.
Again, the blade whistled through the air. Lust uttered another DeathSpell. Storm deflected it. Onward he walked, ragged cloak waving in the wind. She backed up against a tree, clutching for a weapon. Nothing would save her now. Storm drew the weapon back, his eyes glowing, and drove the Holy Steel into her.
She screamed, a noise that deafened every being for miles. Slowly, her body disintegrated into the ground, leaving no trace of her existence.
Storm turned, facing the Tower, which was still visible beyond the trees. He sheathed his swords, as even Lust's blood had disappeared. He picked up his mask, replaced it causally, and returned to the tower.
The obsidian blade, its tip broken off where it had hit his mail, lay forgotten on the ground.
"The last one is a bit shaken, but yes. They are safe." Falior lifted his massive wings, looking at the four humans and three horses huddled beneath. "All clear, now, younglings." The four emerged onto a plain of black dust, charred trees, and empty stone buildings. No humans could be seen; the busy town was silent. They had all become heaps of ash.
Storm was the first to shake off the stupor the firestorm had induced. He tapped Dubaios on the arm, motioning that he would be back in a few hours. The Servant Master nodded, and turned to Berius. "Permission to inspect the Tower, sir?"
"Permission granted."
For an hour, Dubaios looked over the Tower grounds, seeing where seeds could be planted, where defenses against animals could be constructed, and other general improvements.
Storm trotted up on his mount, a bag in his hand and one slung over the saddlebow. He gave the bag in his hand to Berius, who opened it to find grain seeds, a Godsend. Storm motioned Dubaios and Berius behind the Tower, staying Martea from following them.
He opened the second bag. A snake dropped out, still alive. Storm grabbed it at the base of the head, showing the open mouth to the two watchers.
They both jumped back. Two long fangs protruded from the open mouth; two fangs snakes had never had before. Storm killed the snake with a knife before gesturing to Dubaios for a few moments.
"He says that all the animals tried to kill him. We are no longer safe."
Berius looked out at the wide swath of forest before the Tower.
"Chaos."
Down in the Devil's Realm, or Hell, Chaos lounged on his throne. In the silence of Cortalia, he heard Berius' single word. The wide mouth, full of needle-like teeth, opened in a hideous grin.
"Yes, Berius. Chaos."
But the changing of the animals from peaceable herbivores to vicious carnivores wasn't the only trick up Chaos' sleeve. He looked through his Crystal Ball at the world and saw Storm. The tall, slim figure glided through the grass, exterminating snakes and other vermin left and right.
"This will never do. We need to take care of this strange man."
Chaos stood and clapped. The thunderous sound rolled out through the dark caverns of Hell, the force so powerful that the ghosts of the damned were shoved back a few feet as they floated on their miserable way. Out of the pits and the doorways of the Temples on the gloomy hills, the Demons looked up at the Dark Throne.
Roaring so loud that the Traflicaz shook, Chaos shouted, "WHO WILL RID ME OF THE WARRIOR?"
For a few moments, no one moved. Then, Chaos saw movement behind War and Famine. A small demon came forward. Walking up the steps of the throne, she looked Chaos in the eye and said sweetly, "I'll do it, sweetie." She giggled a little as Chaos raised an eyebrow, looking her up and down.
She had taken the form of a gorgeous woman, dressed in an evening gown. Her hair was dark as night, her eyes blue as a spring in winter. Her lips were red, contrasting with her very white skin. She smiled sweetly at Chaos.
Lust.
Chaos grinned widely. He reached forward, taking her slender hand in his mighty claw. He brought it to his lips. "Go. Make him fall as we made the First Man and Woman fall."
"Of course, baby. Make sure you save me a spot for dinner." She gave him a flirtatious wink and flip of her hair, and was gone.
Storm was finishing his lap when he heard a crunching in the woods. He turned to face a woman, dressed in a red material he had never seen, beckoning to him. Behind the mask, his eyes narrowed. He knew for a fact that he had been the last one into the Tower, and he would have noticed a woman as beautiful as she was. However, he followed.
She led him for a mile or so until she reached a stream. There, she turned to him, smiling. Her hands reached for her shoulder straps.
Beneath the mask, his eyes opened wide. His hand shot out, stopping hers. He shook his head vigorously at her.
"Okay then, sweetie. We'll do it the old fashioned way." Her hand slid out of his grasp and grabbed his shoulder. She pulled herself in with her left hand, as her right grasped a dagger firmly. As her left hand moved up to his head, seemingly to kiss his mask, the dagger was driven home.
Storm stood still for a moment, in shock. He slumped to his knees, then to all fours.
Lust giggled. "You men." She drew the katana from the left hand sheath, testing its weight. "Now to finish the job." She hefted the sword and brought it down.
*CLANG*
It hit his bracer. He had lifted his arm to block the blade. Lust looked confused, taken aback. Taking the opportunity, Storm jumped up and roundhouse kicked her in the face. She staggered back, her nose cracked and gushing blood, her eyes streaming tears. She looked at him imploringly, but her charms were lost on the warrior. She had wasted her chance to kill him. It was do or die now.
She swung the katana as he rushed towards her. He dropped to his knees, sliding under the deadly horizontal slice. He grabbed her waist and threw her to the ground. The concussive force stunned her, but not long enough to prevent her from blocking his downward punch with a upward parry. Going for the dirty tactics, she kneed him between the legs. Temporarily stunned, he rolled away. She got up, shook herself and raised the sword again.
Again, the bracer blocked the downward slice. He grabbed the blade with his gloved hands and wrenched it out of hers, scratching her leg in the process. First blood. She screamed a little, cutting it off when she remembered Dubaios was still within hearing distance.
She punch down toward the warrior, but the Demon of Lust is not a fighter. She is an adultress. Her evil talents lie in her deceptive nature, not the speed of her arm. All she got was a punch to the gut.
However, she said a spell, meant to kill him. The energy depletion made her grimace, and she groaned when all that happened was his mask falling off. When he looked at her, and she looked into his eyes, she screamed in fear.
His face was covered in scars. His hair, also black, lay in a neat ponytail under his hood. That wasn't what made her scream, however. It was his nose, eyes, and mouth.
His eyes were golden orbs. No pupils or eyelids. Solid gold orbs.
His nose was a cavity, like a skeleton's. No cartilage whatsoever.
His mouth was sewn shut. The operation seemed to have taken place years ago, because the skin had grown over the aperture.
His eyes glowed. His hands met, on punching the other's palm. A shockwave threw her off her feet. He leapt higher then any man out to be able to, twenty feet at least. In air, he drew the other katana. As he landed, he buried it deep in her chest. However, she simply got up. The blade went through her body like a ghost's. Storm looked confused until she snapped her fingers.
Her true form was revealed. She was a Siren Demon, the ghost of a beautiful woman. Her skin was pale as snow, and shrunken to cover her bones. She was dressed in rags. Claws ended her dangerously thin arms. However, her sweet voice remained the same.
"Don't do this, my dear."
Storm seemed to be laughing beneath his skin gag. Reaching behind him, he drew another sword, strapped to the back of his right leg.
It was a golden sword, covered in runes. He swung it and the air hummed.
"A LifeSpark Blade... WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?!" The Demon shrieked. Storm was definitely laughing now.
The LifeSpark was the last gift left by Craos to Tu`il and Te`ara. It was magical chunk of metal that the two hid away, only using it to make three blades. This blade, the Sword, was the first one. It was imbued with prayers to Craos for protection. It had the power to banish Demons for a time.
Again, the blade whistled through the air. Lust uttered another DeathSpell. Storm deflected it. Onward he walked, ragged cloak waving in the wind. She backed up against a tree, clutching for a weapon. Nothing would save her now. Storm drew the weapon back, his eyes glowing, and drove the Holy Steel into her.
She screamed, a noise that deafened every being for miles. Slowly, her body disintegrated into the ground, leaving no trace of her existence.
Storm turned, facing the Tower, which was still visible beyond the trees. He sheathed his swords, as even Lust's blood had disappeared. He picked up his mask, replaced it causally, and returned to the tower.
The obsidian blade, its tip broken off where it had hit his mail, lay forgotten on the ground.
Sunday, July 31, 2016
Chapter 6 - Firestorm
Years went by. Tu`il and Te`ara had children, who had children, who had children. For years, Cortalia was in a constant, though unsteady, state of peace. The Children of Man lived at relative peace with each other, though many walked away from Craos. The Altars in the temples in Hell glowed night and day with the sacrifices of the many heathens.
As Man walked farther from Craos, he forgot Craos' laws. Murder became common; assault a daily occurrence. Towns became bastions of evil; good men had to keep their families far away from the rest of Mankind. Even so, their wives and daughters were kidnapped and sold as slaves; and their sons were struck down by the hundreds. Chaos was taking over the world. By the four hundredth year of the world, only one family worshiped Craos.
There were two of them; father and daughter. Berius was his name, Martea hers. He was two hundred years old; she was only twenty. They lived together, ten miles from the city of Burdoun, in a ruined tower. None of the evil men of the city knew of the tower, or the young girl would have been long gone. Berius was a cripple. He could barely walk, and his left arm was useless. He was, despite that and his age, a handsome man. His beautiful wife had passed ten years earlier, taken by the men of the city they had lived near at the time. Berius and his now dead brother had spirited little Martea away to the Tower, praying for her safety.
Now, ten years later, they lived simply, depending on each other, she on his wisdom, he on her strength. They grew what they ate, celebrated the Holy Days, and worshiped Craos.
Then came the Year of Tears, the year Martea turned 17, full grown. The year was so named because the slave trade met with the most efficient slaver yet: Dubaios.
Dubaios was an Easterner, born in the harsh Jodai Desert. He was 18 when the Year of Tears began; all the most astonishing when men learned of his exploits. He came to Burdoun in the spring, his vagabond band trailing behind him. His first visit was not to the town square though; it was to the slums. There, his pillagers took every woman that looked remotely pretty captive. They left the city for a few hours to visit a nearby Oasis. There, they cleaned the slaves and dressed them up with the silk that they had carried from the East.
Then, the richly dressed women were paraded in by the vagabonds, straight to the marketplace. All of them were sold for more than their poor husbands and brothers would make in their entire lives. The poor wretches watched as the girls were led away, never to be seen again.
But Dubaios wasn't done there. He began casting around, searching for beautiful farm girls. He was so successful in Burdoun that within a month, no one would buy from anyone but him. Berius got the news from a friend of his in town; a single baker who didn't worship Craos, but was still trustworthy.
Berius knew that it was only a matter of time before Martea was taken. He prayed night and day for her safety; but, one day, as he knelt on the towertop, he saw a band of rogues loping up the path from the forest. He knew her time had come. Rising to his knees, he cried out once more for Craos' aid. The sky remained silent.
All was a haze as he heard the door being knocked in. He heard her gasp as she heaved herself up to hide behind him, the only protection she knew. They came up the tower steps, hobnails grating on the stone. One by one, they leapt up to the wooden platform that formed the towertop. Their leader, not Dubaios, but a lieutenant, stepped forward.
"Hand over the wench, Ancient One."
"Nay, ye will have to get through me."
The lieutenant shrugged. Drawing a knife, he stabbed Berius in the chest twice, sheathed the knife, and grabbed Martea. "That was easy." Laughing, the vicious band retreated down the steps, loping back towards Burdoun with the gagged Martea slung over the leader's shoulder.
Berius' ancient frame began to shudder; he had been weak before the mortal wound. He slumped to his knees; then fell over on his back. He felt the sticky oozing as his life blood worked its way out of his body. As his eyes closed, a flash of light brightened his tired irises. However, he did not have the strength to open them.
In the city, Dubaios was doing inventory. Thirty-five women had been taken that day; the best catch of his career. He admired each one of them, assessing beauty and strength, ordering each to be taken to a specific location for best sale opportunities. As he closed his scroll, Martea was brought in.
She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen; and keep in mind that he had seen quite a few. He went up to her and ran his rough hand down her cheek, gently. She was shocked into silence, but even though she was terrified, she realized that Dubaios may be evil, but he was not cruel. She saw all the slaves were treated very well while in his care. However, that realization did not change the fact that she hated him.
"Take her to my quarters; clean her up, and dress her in something fitting."
She was led away.
At the ruined tower, Berius was not dead. A man knelt over him, a huge man, twelve feet tall at least. Berius must have been hallucinating, because the man appeared to be on fire, and had wings. However, the man had healed his wound somehow, and was giving him some wonderful food; food that made his body go limp from how delicious it was. His strength came back to him; strength he had not known for many a long year.
Then, with a shock, he realized that his crippled limbs were responding to his mental commands. He stood, and felt that his body was younger. The belly that had grown with his age had disappeared. His body was covered in muscle. He was powerful again. He turned to face the man.
No man stood before him. An Angel did. And, though Berius did not know, it was not an ordinary angel. It was Falior, Archangel of Fire, Guardian of the Garden, Right Hand of Vira`il the Brave, and Messenger of Craos.
"Thank you, kind Angel."
"Craos has heard your prayers, son of Tu`il. He has answered your prayers, spoken and unspoken."
"What prayers?"
"A husband for your daughter, and deliverance for your world."
Falior ordered Berius to follow him to the courtyard. The Ancient One almost had a heart attack. There sat Vira`il, his hammer resting against his thigh. "My lord Vira`il!" Berius fell to his knees.
Vira`il raised him up instantly. "Don't worship me, Son of Tu`il. I am but a Helper. And today, I am here to help you."
Berius looked confused.
"Today is the Day Mankind pays for his wickedness."
Berius' eyes grew huge. "Martea!"
"Son of Tu`il, that has been arranged. Your daughter will be safe. Falior will see to that."
Back in the city, Martea awaited Dubaios' coming with dread. Her father had told her a little about what it meant to be a female slave. Her heart sank every time she heard a sound outside the lavish room.
Finally, she heard a soft tread coming up the steps. The latch raised softly, and Dubaios entered. He looked at her, arrayed in a beautiful satin gown, and nodded, a slight smile lighting up one side of his face. Martea noticed that he looked sad, and for a moment, pity for this young man warmed her heart.
She crushed the feeling instantly. This was a slaver, a man who ripped families apart and sold girls into tortures beyond imagining.
He left the room into the bathroom, and she heard him bathing in the marble tub she had washed in hours earlier. After ten minutes, he returned to the room, clad in a kilt made of fine linen, with a gold ring in his right ear. As much as she repressed it, her heart gave a flutter as her eyes ran over his sturdy form. He noticed her stare as he walked over to a seat and gave the sad little smile again.
She blushed violently and got a sudden interest in her feet, the nails painted a dark red. When she looked up at Dubaios, she saw he was looking at her, not a lustful, evil stare, but an interested look. The shame she had felt melted away; she realized that he was not an cruel man like most slavers.
"What is your name?"
His voice broke the silence. She looked down again, afraid to answer. "I mean you no harm, young one. I want to talk with you."
She looked up, again, her fear stilled by his demeanor. "My name is Martea, sir."
"It is a beautiful name. I presume you know who I am?"
"Dubaios the Slaver."
A look of slight confusion crossed his eyes. "Slaver?"
"Don't you tear people from their homes and sell them like cattle?"
"My dear, no! I pay the families and put the girls in mansions as servants! Who told you I'm a slaver?"
He lifted a slender glass jug and began to pour two drinks.
"They didn't pay my father. Unless you count a knife in the chest."
Dubaios stopped mid-pour. "What?"
"You heard me."
"I will deal with that lieutenant later. He is new to my business. But, to show you I am not a liar, here is a bill of sale."
He handed her an official document, signed by a magistrate. It had how much Dubaios had paid the family, the family the girl worked for now, the conditions at last visit, and the pay amount. Martea looked up at the 'slaver'. "This is official?"
"Yes, young one."
"Then I am sorry for misjudging you. Why do you do this?"
"Because these girls will have no chance at a better life unless someone gives them a leg up." He offered her a goblet. "Drink?"
"No thank you."
"As you wish." He took a sip.
"That is why I do this. I am truly sorry that your father was hurt, but I can't be everywhere. You and I shall ride at once to find him."
Dubaios called out the massive window to the grooms in the yard. They began to scurry around, preparing Dubaios' charger. He turned to her, frowning at her dress. "We'll need you to change out of that vanity." He called for a servant, and told Martea to meet him in the courtyard in ten minutes. The servant dressed Martea in a plain riding dress with matching cloak and shooed her down the marble steps to the courtyard.
Dubaios, dressed in a black cloak, was waiting for her. He offered her his arm, and she looked at him, confused. It took him a moment to realize that a man had not offered her his arm before. He gently lifted her small white hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow. In that position, he aided her across the rough courtyard to the mighty black stallion.
"I've never ridden a horse before." Martea's tone was full of consternation.
"We're riding the same horse, young one."
He hoisted her gently up onto the charger and leapt up behind her. He wrapped his left arm around her and gripped the reins in his right. He was about to ride out when another horse clattered into the courtyard.
The Rider was taller than Dubaios, at least six foot five. He also was riding a black horse, but instead of Dubaios' exposed chest and arms, he wore a full body cloak and hood. He was also wearing, despite the heat, a full set of leather armor. Twin katanas adorned his shoulders, ready for quick deployment. Various knives were placed on points on his armor, at least ten of them. His face was covered by a mask, with only his eyes exposed.
"Storm, you're early. How did it go?"
The Tall One drew his right katana. The blade was blood red. Dubaios sighed. "Oh well." Storm pointed at Martea and lifted his hand palm up, fingers spread. "I'm taking her to her father." Nodding, Storm led his charger into the stables. Martea noticed that everyone avoided him. But, as Dubaios touched his sandals to the horse's flanks a moment later, she had no time to think on it.
The ride was glorious to her. The wind rushing in her face, the occasional words passed between them regarding landmarks, the feel of the horse and the arm around her. But, when the tower came into view, her heart sank again. She hopped off, stunning her feet, but she ran towards the gate despite the pain in her feet. Dubaios followed as soon as he tethered his charger.
She ran up the steps and into the first floor room, then began to climb the ladder. On reaching the second floor, she turned toward her father's table and stopped cold. There were three men. Two were dressed in armor, one in a simple hooded monk's garb. It took her a moment to realize who that one was. With a little shriek, she ran around the table and threw her arms around him. His strong arms held her close.
The two in armor rose as they heard Dubaios' step. Falior shrugged and leapt out of the window. Vira`il picked up his hammer and stood by the opening.
Dubaios heard the thud and scuffle of Falior hitting the ground and rolling to absorb the impact. He turned, and saw the tall man, thirty feet away. Falior and Vira`il had taken on human appearances in order to enter the tower and converse with Berius. Dubaios drew his kris, a wicked Eastern dagger with a waved blade, and prepared for battle. Falior laughed heartily. Dubaios, angry at the other's behavior, threw the knife. Falior swung his arm. As it flew through the air, a sword materialized in it. It connected with the knife, shattering it. After the impact, it disappeared from the Angel's hand.
Dubaios stared. He began to back up, looking for a weapon with his left hand. It hit Vira`il's chest. Dubaios' eyes widened as he turned to the figure behind him. Vira`il began to return to his Helper form. Dubaios let out a squeak as the man turned into a giant, and the giant into a god. Vira`il picked him up by the legs and held him before his face.
"What have we here? A little slaver, methinks."
"I'm not" *gasp* "a slaver!"
"Falior, what think ye?"
"I think he's a killer. We should do away with him." Dubaios, turned away from the Angel, couldn't see the twinkle in his eyes.
"No! Please! Have Mercy!"
"Son of Tu`il, we mean you no harm. I wanted to know if you desert rats feel fear."
"Obivously!"
Falior let out a peal of laughter. Dubaios wiggled around and saw him, now twelve feet tall with thirty-foot wings, and passed out.
Dubaios awoke in the tower, the once more human-sized demigods standing over his bed. He started and sat up, backing up till the wooden backboard was pressing into his back.
"We have a question."
"Yes?"
"Do you believe in Craos?"
"I didn't this morning, but now I'm not so sure in my doubt."
"Believe, Dubaios, and you will be saved."
"From?"
"The Firestorm to come."
Dubaios and Martea rode back into town later that afternoon, with a mission given my Vira`il: to save as many of the people as he could. He dismounted in the courtyard, leaving Martea in the courtyard, only to return, hours later, hot and exhausted, alone. No one would listen.
As he mounted, and was about to turn their horse out of the courtyard when a soft *thud* made him turn.
There stood Storm, outfitted for battle. He nodded to Dubaios, who looked at him, confused. Storm walked into the stable and brought out his two horses, a charger and a filly. He gave the filly a long rope, tied to the saddlebow of the charger's saddle, mounted, and inclined his head to Dubaios.
Dubaios returned the gesture and the three horses clattered out of the courtyard. They wound down the city streets, coming to a halt at the Gate. There was a crowd there, all armed with various makeshift weapons. On seeing the three, they all booed and shook their various implements of war.
A leader walked forward, the only well armed man. He was dressed in long robes, and he carried a spear.
"You will not go to the Ancient One.... not with the girl, at least."
Dubaios was about to speak when Storm dismounted.
"Oh, who have we-" A katana thrown at his head ended his question. The body fell to its knees, then slumped over softly. Storm walked over, yanked the sword out of the body's head, and wiped the blood off on the clothes. Looking at the crowd, he drew his second sword. The first wave lowered their weapons and charged.
Storm calmly looked at the advancing horde, then began the bloodbath.
Dubaios wheeled his horse and began to gallop to the smaller gate. Falior had given him two hours. An hour and forty five minutes had elapsed, with a ten minute gallop between them and safety. Dubaios shed a tear at his faithful follower's sacrifice, but he could not help Storm. He had to get Martea to safety.
He rushed trough the gate, down the path around the walls, out onto the main road, and towards the hills surrounding the town. Martea looked back, but all she could see was an angry mass of people. No sign of Storm. Dubaios urged his charger to greater speed for the last mile, till the poor brute was wet with lather. They reached the courtyard of the Tower as Vira`il was counting down the final seconds.
The Helper stood, his full height of thirty feet. "Stay in the Tower." He walked away, heavy footsteps shaking the stone of the building. Reaching around fifty yards from the tower, he lifted his Hammer.
Falior turned away from Vira`il, facing the humans. He spread his wings wide to protect them. Then, a branch cracked in the woods.
Time slowed for the three humans in the Tower as Storm, riding hard and covered in blood, broke from the tree cover. Vira`il's swing was too far into motion to cease. Down came the Hammer, and on came Storm. As the Hammer, FireStorm, hit the ground, Storm's horses made the jump over the low wall, dashing under Falior's wings. The explosion that followed the impact of the Hammer was so close behind him that the shockwave blasted him against the Tower walls, knocking him unconscious.
The world was bathed in heat. Fire consumed all. Towns and cities, villages and farms. Vira`il's hammer blow created a crater whose edges reached the walls of the Tower. The humans watched as the world they had known fell to fire.
However, from the Ashes of the Old Cortalia,
New Cortalia rose.
As Man walked farther from Craos, he forgot Craos' laws. Murder became common; assault a daily occurrence. Towns became bastions of evil; good men had to keep their families far away from the rest of Mankind. Even so, their wives and daughters were kidnapped and sold as slaves; and their sons were struck down by the hundreds. Chaos was taking over the world. By the four hundredth year of the world, only one family worshiped Craos.
There were two of them; father and daughter. Berius was his name, Martea hers. He was two hundred years old; she was only twenty. They lived together, ten miles from the city of Burdoun, in a ruined tower. None of the evil men of the city knew of the tower, or the young girl would have been long gone. Berius was a cripple. He could barely walk, and his left arm was useless. He was, despite that and his age, a handsome man. His beautiful wife had passed ten years earlier, taken by the men of the city they had lived near at the time. Berius and his now dead brother had spirited little Martea away to the Tower, praying for her safety.
Now, ten years later, they lived simply, depending on each other, she on his wisdom, he on her strength. They grew what they ate, celebrated the Holy Days, and worshiped Craos.
Then came the Year of Tears, the year Martea turned 17, full grown. The year was so named because the slave trade met with the most efficient slaver yet: Dubaios.
Dubaios was an Easterner, born in the harsh Jodai Desert. He was 18 when the Year of Tears began; all the most astonishing when men learned of his exploits. He came to Burdoun in the spring, his vagabond band trailing behind him. His first visit was not to the town square though; it was to the slums. There, his pillagers took every woman that looked remotely pretty captive. They left the city for a few hours to visit a nearby Oasis. There, they cleaned the slaves and dressed them up with the silk that they had carried from the East.
Then, the richly dressed women were paraded in by the vagabonds, straight to the marketplace. All of them were sold for more than their poor husbands and brothers would make in their entire lives. The poor wretches watched as the girls were led away, never to be seen again.
But Dubaios wasn't done there. He began casting around, searching for beautiful farm girls. He was so successful in Burdoun that within a month, no one would buy from anyone but him. Berius got the news from a friend of his in town; a single baker who didn't worship Craos, but was still trustworthy.
Berius knew that it was only a matter of time before Martea was taken. He prayed night and day for her safety; but, one day, as he knelt on the towertop, he saw a band of rogues loping up the path from the forest. He knew her time had come. Rising to his knees, he cried out once more for Craos' aid. The sky remained silent.
All was a haze as he heard the door being knocked in. He heard her gasp as she heaved herself up to hide behind him, the only protection she knew. They came up the tower steps, hobnails grating on the stone. One by one, they leapt up to the wooden platform that formed the towertop. Their leader, not Dubaios, but a lieutenant, stepped forward.
"Hand over the wench, Ancient One."
"Nay, ye will have to get through me."
The lieutenant shrugged. Drawing a knife, he stabbed Berius in the chest twice, sheathed the knife, and grabbed Martea. "That was easy." Laughing, the vicious band retreated down the steps, loping back towards Burdoun with the gagged Martea slung over the leader's shoulder.
Berius' ancient frame began to shudder; he had been weak before the mortal wound. He slumped to his knees; then fell over on his back. He felt the sticky oozing as his life blood worked its way out of his body. As his eyes closed, a flash of light brightened his tired irises. However, he did not have the strength to open them.
In the city, Dubaios was doing inventory. Thirty-five women had been taken that day; the best catch of his career. He admired each one of them, assessing beauty and strength, ordering each to be taken to a specific location for best sale opportunities. As he closed his scroll, Martea was brought in.
She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen; and keep in mind that he had seen quite a few. He went up to her and ran his rough hand down her cheek, gently. She was shocked into silence, but even though she was terrified, she realized that Dubaios may be evil, but he was not cruel. She saw all the slaves were treated very well while in his care. However, that realization did not change the fact that she hated him.
"Take her to my quarters; clean her up, and dress her in something fitting."
She was led away.
At the ruined tower, Berius was not dead. A man knelt over him, a huge man, twelve feet tall at least. Berius must have been hallucinating, because the man appeared to be on fire, and had wings. However, the man had healed his wound somehow, and was giving him some wonderful food; food that made his body go limp from how delicious it was. His strength came back to him; strength he had not known for many a long year.
Then, with a shock, he realized that his crippled limbs were responding to his mental commands. He stood, and felt that his body was younger. The belly that had grown with his age had disappeared. His body was covered in muscle. He was powerful again. He turned to face the man.
No man stood before him. An Angel did. And, though Berius did not know, it was not an ordinary angel. It was Falior, Archangel of Fire, Guardian of the Garden, Right Hand of Vira`il the Brave, and Messenger of Craos.
"Thank you, kind Angel."
"Craos has heard your prayers, son of Tu`il. He has answered your prayers, spoken and unspoken."
"What prayers?"
"A husband for your daughter, and deliverance for your world."
Falior ordered Berius to follow him to the courtyard. The Ancient One almost had a heart attack. There sat Vira`il, his hammer resting against his thigh. "My lord Vira`il!" Berius fell to his knees.
Vira`il raised him up instantly. "Don't worship me, Son of Tu`il. I am but a Helper. And today, I am here to help you."
Berius looked confused.
"Today is the Day Mankind pays for his wickedness."
Berius' eyes grew huge. "Martea!"
"Son of Tu`il, that has been arranged. Your daughter will be safe. Falior will see to that."
Back in the city, Martea awaited Dubaios' coming with dread. Her father had told her a little about what it meant to be a female slave. Her heart sank every time she heard a sound outside the lavish room.
Finally, she heard a soft tread coming up the steps. The latch raised softly, and Dubaios entered. He looked at her, arrayed in a beautiful satin gown, and nodded, a slight smile lighting up one side of his face. Martea noticed that he looked sad, and for a moment, pity for this young man warmed her heart.
She crushed the feeling instantly. This was a slaver, a man who ripped families apart and sold girls into tortures beyond imagining.
He left the room into the bathroom, and she heard him bathing in the marble tub she had washed in hours earlier. After ten minutes, he returned to the room, clad in a kilt made of fine linen, with a gold ring in his right ear. As much as she repressed it, her heart gave a flutter as her eyes ran over his sturdy form. He noticed her stare as he walked over to a seat and gave the sad little smile again.
She blushed violently and got a sudden interest in her feet, the nails painted a dark red. When she looked up at Dubaios, she saw he was looking at her, not a lustful, evil stare, but an interested look. The shame she had felt melted away; she realized that he was not an cruel man like most slavers.
"What is your name?"
His voice broke the silence. She looked down again, afraid to answer. "I mean you no harm, young one. I want to talk with you."
She looked up, again, her fear stilled by his demeanor. "My name is Martea, sir."
"It is a beautiful name. I presume you know who I am?"
"Dubaios the Slaver."
A look of slight confusion crossed his eyes. "Slaver?"
"Don't you tear people from their homes and sell them like cattle?"
"My dear, no! I pay the families and put the girls in mansions as servants! Who told you I'm a slaver?"
He lifted a slender glass jug and began to pour two drinks.
"They didn't pay my father. Unless you count a knife in the chest."
Dubaios stopped mid-pour. "What?"
"You heard me."
"I will deal with that lieutenant later. He is new to my business. But, to show you I am not a liar, here is a bill of sale."
He handed her an official document, signed by a magistrate. It had how much Dubaios had paid the family, the family the girl worked for now, the conditions at last visit, and the pay amount. Martea looked up at the 'slaver'. "This is official?"
"Yes, young one."
"Then I am sorry for misjudging you. Why do you do this?"
"Because these girls will have no chance at a better life unless someone gives them a leg up." He offered her a goblet. "Drink?"
"No thank you."
"As you wish." He took a sip.
"That is why I do this. I am truly sorry that your father was hurt, but I can't be everywhere. You and I shall ride at once to find him."
Dubaios called out the massive window to the grooms in the yard. They began to scurry around, preparing Dubaios' charger. He turned to her, frowning at her dress. "We'll need you to change out of that vanity." He called for a servant, and told Martea to meet him in the courtyard in ten minutes. The servant dressed Martea in a plain riding dress with matching cloak and shooed her down the marble steps to the courtyard.
Dubaios, dressed in a black cloak, was waiting for her. He offered her his arm, and she looked at him, confused. It took him a moment to realize that a man had not offered her his arm before. He gently lifted her small white hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow. In that position, he aided her across the rough courtyard to the mighty black stallion.
"I've never ridden a horse before." Martea's tone was full of consternation.
"We're riding the same horse, young one."
He hoisted her gently up onto the charger and leapt up behind her. He wrapped his left arm around her and gripped the reins in his right. He was about to ride out when another horse clattered into the courtyard.
The Rider was taller than Dubaios, at least six foot five. He also was riding a black horse, but instead of Dubaios' exposed chest and arms, he wore a full body cloak and hood. He was also wearing, despite the heat, a full set of leather armor. Twin katanas adorned his shoulders, ready for quick deployment. Various knives were placed on points on his armor, at least ten of them. His face was covered by a mask, with only his eyes exposed.
"Storm, you're early. How did it go?"
The Tall One drew his right katana. The blade was blood red. Dubaios sighed. "Oh well." Storm pointed at Martea and lifted his hand palm up, fingers spread. "I'm taking her to her father." Nodding, Storm led his charger into the stables. Martea noticed that everyone avoided him. But, as Dubaios touched his sandals to the horse's flanks a moment later, she had no time to think on it.
The ride was glorious to her. The wind rushing in her face, the occasional words passed between them regarding landmarks, the feel of the horse and the arm around her. But, when the tower came into view, her heart sank again. She hopped off, stunning her feet, but she ran towards the gate despite the pain in her feet. Dubaios followed as soon as he tethered his charger.
She ran up the steps and into the first floor room, then began to climb the ladder. On reaching the second floor, she turned toward her father's table and stopped cold. There were three men. Two were dressed in armor, one in a simple hooded monk's garb. It took her a moment to realize who that one was. With a little shriek, she ran around the table and threw her arms around him. His strong arms held her close.
The two in armor rose as they heard Dubaios' step. Falior shrugged and leapt out of the window. Vira`il picked up his hammer and stood by the opening.
Dubaios heard the thud and scuffle of Falior hitting the ground and rolling to absorb the impact. He turned, and saw the tall man, thirty feet away. Falior and Vira`il had taken on human appearances in order to enter the tower and converse with Berius. Dubaios drew his kris, a wicked Eastern dagger with a waved blade, and prepared for battle. Falior laughed heartily. Dubaios, angry at the other's behavior, threw the knife. Falior swung his arm. As it flew through the air, a sword materialized in it. It connected with the knife, shattering it. After the impact, it disappeared from the Angel's hand.
Dubaios stared. He began to back up, looking for a weapon with his left hand. It hit Vira`il's chest. Dubaios' eyes widened as he turned to the figure behind him. Vira`il began to return to his Helper form. Dubaios let out a squeak as the man turned into a giant, and the giant into a god. Vira`il picked him up by the legs and held him before his face.
"What have we here? A little slaver, methinks."
"I'm not" *gasp* "a slaver!"
"Falior, what think ye?"
"I think he's a killer. We should do away with him." Dubaios, turned away from the Angel, couldn't see the twinkle in his eyes.
"No! Please! Have Mercy!"
"Son of Tu`il, we mean you no harm. I wanted to know if you desert rats feel fear."
"Obivously!"
Falior let out a peal of laughter. Dubaios wiggled around and saw him, now twelve feet tall with thirty-foot wings, and passed out.
Dubaios awoke in the tower, the once more human-sized demigods standing over his bed. He started and sat up, backing up till the wooden backboard was pressing into his back.
"We have a question."
"Yes?"
"Do you believe in Craos?"
"I didn't this morning, but now I'm not so sure in my doubt."
"Believe, Dubaios, and you will be saved."
"From?"
"The Firestorm to come."
Dubaios and Martea rode back into town later that afternoon, with a mission given my Vira`il: to save as many of the people as he could. He dismounted in the courtyard, leaving Martea in the courtyard, only to return, hours later, hot and exhausted, alone. No one would listen.
As he mounted, and was about to turn their horse out of the courtyard when a soft *thud* made him turn.
There stood Storm, outfitted for battle. He nodded to Dubaios, who looked at him, confused. Storm walked into the stable and brought out his two horses, a charger and a filly. He gave the filly a long rope, tied to the saddlebow of the charger's saddle, mounted, and inclined his head to Dubaios.
Dubaios returned the gesture and the three horses clattered out of the courtyard. They wound down the city streets, coming to a halt at the Gate. There was a crowd there, all armed with various makeshift weapons. On seeing the three, they all booed and shook their various implements of war.
A leader walked forward, the only well armed man. He was dressed in long robes, and he carried a spear.
"You will not go to the Ancient One.... not with the girl, at least."
Dubaios was about to speak when Storm dismounted.
"Oh, who have we-" A katana thrown at his head ended his question. The body fell to its knees, then slumped over softly. Storm walked over, yanked the sword out of the body's head, and wiped the blood off on the clothes. Looking at the crowd, he drew his second sword. The first wave lowered their weapons and charged.
Storm calmly looked at the advancing horde, then began the bloodbath.
Dubaios wheeled his horse and began to gallop to the smaller gate. Falior had given him two hours. An hour and forty five minutes had elapsed, with a ten minute gallop between them and safety. Dubaios shed a tear at his faithful follower's sacrifice, but he could not help Storm. He had to get Martea to safety.
He rushed trough the gate, down the path around the walls, out onto the main road, and towards the hills surrounding the town. Martea looked back, but all she could see was an angry mass of people. No sign of Storm. Dubaios urged his charger to greater speed for the last mile, till the poor brute was wet with lather. They reached the courtyard of the Tower as Vira`il was counting down the final seconds.
The Helper stood, his full height of thirty feet. "Stay in the Tower." He walked away, heavy footsteps shaking the stone of the building. Reaching around fifty yards from the tower, he lifted his Hammer.
Falior turned away from Vira`il, facing the humans. He spread his wings wide to protect them. Then, a branch cracked in the woods.
Time slowed for the three humans in the Tower as Storm, riding hard and covered in blood, broke from the tree cover. Vira`il's swing was too far into motion to cease. Down came the Hammer, and on came Storm. As the Hammer, FireStorm, hit the ground, Storm's horses made the jump over the low wall, dashing under Falior's wings. The explosion that followed the impact of the Hammer was so close behind him that the shockwave blasted him against the Tower walls, knocking him unconscious.
The world was bathed in heat. Fire consumed all. Towns and cities, villages and farms. Vira`il's hammer blow created a crater whose edges reached the walls of the Tower. The humans watched as the world they had known fell to fire.
However, from the Ashes of the Old Cortalia,
New Cortalia rose.
Tuesday, July 26, 2016
Chapter 5 - The Fall
Chaos fell through space, down from the Light of the Endless Palace, down, down till the Abyss was all he could feel. All he could know. All he was. Chaos... Abyss... Darkness... the Three combined, forming an unholy unity. The Lifespark that was left in the necklace that Chaos wore shattered, only to form again as a Deathspark, the first of its kind. With the evil power of the stone, Chaos made the first evil material appear before him.
The framework of his kingdom. The stones on which he built his empire. Dark Matter is all we know it as, but it has another, older name.
Traflicaz.
The Devil's Flesh. We don't know how the name came into being, but we do know that those who have seen Dark Matter say that it looks like the flesh of a living Being.
After the first Dark Matter came into being at Chaos' command, he began to form it into a palace. It was not endless, being made by a Being that was not omnipresent, omniscient, or all-powerful. However, it was vast. Past the Gates, made of the bones of unknown Beasts, there was a guardhouse. In days to come, burly Demons would sit there, ready to drive the dead to the Second Circle.
There are Nine Circles in that palace, called Hell, each holding the souls of those who committed a different Sin. Only one knows who goes where, for only one being has made it down there and lived. But that part of the story comes later.
Bones adorn every structure, the vast majority of which are temples to every god Man has ever created. All they are are Demons in the guise of Angels, promising power, but giving weakness.
There are shrines, pagodas, houses, and statues beyond count, all tended by their Demon until Mankind moves on. Then, a new Demon takes over that spot, and the old Demon retires to taskmastery.
There were shrines to Lust, to Anger, to Pride and to Envy. All of the Shrines were massive, but there was one that rule over the empty city of Temples. War. The Temple to the Demon of War was bigger, more evil, and not only adorned with, but made out of Bones. It was the size of a mountain, with red fires burning in its gargantuan depths.
As soon as Chaos regained his form, Demons began to solidify in the Abyss. They made their way to the Giant Being in the Darkness, standing on the steps of the Dark Palace. They crowded around, watching him. He raised his head, his fiery eyes burning towards the Endless Palace, endless miles time and space above him.
"Just wait, Craos. I'm coming for you."
Turning to his minions, he said, "Wait here. I have some business to finish." His body changed into spirit form, and drifted away.
On Cortalia, Tu`il and Te`ara were walking with Craos in the cool of the evening. He was teaching them things that the human race has forgotten, how to give love without measure, mercy without end, and grace without ceasing. They both hung on his every word, adoring the Perfect Being that had created, sustained, and was nurturing them.
Finally, as He did every evening, Craos reached the top of Mount Holiness, from whence He had first taken Tu`il and Te`ara to Retalia. He turned towards them, smiled, and, in turn, embraced them both. "Stay strong and trust me, children. I will visit you tomorrow."
He disappeared in a flash of white light. The two humans turned away, walking back down the mountain. They had found a place in a pleasant glade where they slept, though there was no reason to; their bodies were perfect, needing no refueling.
The two of them lay down, side by side, his arm under her neck, gazing up at the stars. The air was quiet except for the hum of insects, and the soft tread of a tiger nearby.
The silence prevailed until Te`ara turned and put her small, delicate on Tu`il's barrel chest.
"I love you."
Tu`il's sleepy eyes opened, blinked, and, turning, met hers. "I love you more."
She snuggled close to him, her body warming his and he hers. The night closed in quietly.
In the shadows, a faint light shone. A purple light. For a moment, it stood still. Then, it shook faintly. About five feet above it, two orbs of fury shone for a moment. Chaos had come to Cortalia.
He shifted form, changing between bird and beast. Finally, he saw an animal that he liked better than the rest. A Snake.
Later that evening, Te`ara was awoken by a soft voice.
"Te`ara!"
She rose, rubbing the sleepiness out of her eyes so she could see the speaker. For a moment, she could see nothing. Then, the form of a golden snake wove its way into her vision.
"Yes?"
"Come with me." The snake turned, and slithered away, head held high.
Te`ara rose, brushing the grass off her back. She followed, her soft feet making no noise.
The Snake led to a tree. A lone tree, a great tree. The bark is black, the leaves are grey and silver. The fruit is golden. It is the Tree of Knowledge. The Snake turned to face Te`ara, who stood behind him, fingering her hair, curious of what the animal would do next.
The Snake stood, examining her perfect form. As there was no evil in Cortalia as of yet, she felt no shame in the fact that she wore nothing, nor in the fact that someone was examining her body.
After considering her for a moment, the Snake asked, "Do you know what this tree is?"
"It is the Tree of Knowledge; the only tree we may not eat of."
"Who told you that, fair one?"
"The Maker."
"Did he now? Did He tell you why, fair one?"
Te`ara turned her head to the side, considering. "No, He just said to trust him."
Inside the snake's mind, Chaos' spirit smiled. His Plan was working beautifully.
"Well, sweetheart, I'll tell you. It makes you wise- as wise as Craos."
Out of the corner of his eye, the Snake saw her eyes widen. A slow smile spread over his face. "My dear, why don't you try one for yourself?"
Te`ara considered for a moment. "I shouldn't..... But does it truly make you stronger?"
"Yes, my beauty, wise as Craos... or mayhap, wiser...."
For a moment, the internal struggle showed on Te`ara's face. Then, the conflict resolved, she reached out her hand and grabbed a fruit. For a moment, she stood looking at it. Then, her eyes rose to the Snake's eyes. Confusion lurked in the depths of the orbs she turned to him.
An evil smile spread over the Snake's visage. "Eat it, beautiful. Become better than you are."
Te`ara gave a deep sigh, then seemed to be about to drop the fruit. However, some evil impulse emanating from the snake drove her mind to his side. She lifted the Golden Fruit to her mouth and took a bite.
"I think your husband would like some, my dear." Te`ara nodded and walked back to the glade, where Tu`il, having awakened, was looking for her. He turned around as she entered the clearing, smiling at seeing his beloved. When he saw the beautiful fruit she held, he raised an eyebrow.
"My darling, where did you get that?"
"The Tree of Knowledge."
He was taken aback.
"Darling, were we not commanded to... Did you eat of it?"
"Yes, my dear. Will you not partake with me?"
Tu`il considered. On one hand, he had been ordered not to eat of the Tree, ordered by the Maker. On the other, this was his wife- his true love, his everything.... And, on the other hand.... Tu`il started with the realization that his wife was getting bigger! He walked over to her and placed his hands on her belly, which was slightly round. He felt nothing for a moment, then a tiny thump from inside made his heart flutter. A Child. Their Child. He looked up at Te`ara, who smiled faintly.
Tu`il took the fruit without another thought. He bit it.
The Snake Form Chaos had held fell from his mighty form. He towered over the two humans, who cowered in his shadow; feeling fear for the first time.
"You have failed, Craos!" The Master Demon called to the stars. Turning to the humans, he simply said, "Welcome to Hell."
The two humans looked at each other. For the first time, Tu`il noticed that Te`ara was small and weak, easily dominated. Te`ara saw that Tu`il was dominated by his anger, easily nagged. The two began to draw away from each other, black hate blossoming between them. Te`ara felt shame as she felt the Man's peircing eyes on her. Tu`il felt shame as he saw the Woman's eyes sizing him up, mocking him with her stare. As they stood there, the top of Mount Holiness began to glow.
"The Maker is coming!" Shame forgotten, Tu`il took Te`ara's hand and ran to a nearby clump of bushes.
"Tu`il?" The Voice of the Maker made the ground quiver and the air shimmer.
No response.
"Tu`il?" The Voice was nearer.
Tu`il, summoning his courage, stood up. "Here I am, Lord."
"Why did you not answer me the first time, First Man?"
"I... I was afraid, Lord."
"Why?"
"Because I was naked."
"Who told you you were naked, First Man? Have you eaten of the Tree of Knowledge?"
"The Woman you gave me gave me the Fruit, and I ate."
"Woman, come forward." Craos was now standing before Tu`il, sad eyes locked with Tu`il's. Te`ara hesitantly rose and, blushing with shame, faced the Maker.
"This is true, Woman?"
"The Snake told me I would be as you, Lord, and I ate."
Craos saw the form of Chaos, turning to Spirit, far in the distance. "I will pass judgement on him later. As for you two,"
Craos looked at them long and hard. "You, woman, shall have great pain in childbirth. You shall be servant to your husband, for you have deceived him." Turning to Tu`il, "You, man, shall labor all the days of your life. The Ground is cursed because of you, by the sweat of your brow shall you eat. Lastly, you two shall not stay here, but shall be driven far from this Paradise, which I will remove from this earth. You are not worthy of it. Farewell, First Man and First Woman."
Craos began to walk away. Then, He turned back to the two miserable humans. "Know that I still love you, very much. I must remove this so that you will not live forever in your sin. I want you to be with me. But, you must endure mortal life first, because of your choice."
Tu`il and Te`ara looked up. The Maker smiled. They both mirrored the gesture as He vanished. Mount Holiness shone like a beacon, then the Earth darkened. Not for long, though. From the Heavens came a bright light. First it was a star, then it was a comet. Finally, it looked like what it was- an Angel. Not any angel, as a matter of fact, an Archangel.
He landed on one knee, his hands on the ground, his wings touching the earth. He was a Fire Archangel; his entire being glowed with a red-orange radiance. His body was made of flame; his clothes were made of smoke. His name was Falior.
He stood, his mighty twelve foot form towering over the two. "You two must leave this Garden."
Tu`il and Te`ara were about to resist when they saw the mighty weapon he carried- a greatsword. Sadly, they left the Garden, Falior following, never to return.
The framework of his kingdom. The stones on which he built his empire. Dark Matter is all we know it as, but it has another, older name.
Traflicaz.
The Devil's Flesh. We don't know how the name came into being, but we do know that those who have seen Dark Matter say that it looks like the flesh of a living Being.
After the first Dark Matter came into being at Chaos' command, he began to form it into a palace. It was not endless, being made by a Being that was not omnipresent, omniscient, or all-powerful. However, it was vast. Past the Gates, made of the bones of unknown Beasts, there was a guardhouse. In days to come, burly Demons would sit there, ready to drive the dead to the Second Circle.
There are Nine Circles in that palace, called Hell, each holding the souls of those who committed a different Sin. Only one knows who goes where, for only one being has made it down there and lived. But that part of the story comes later.
Bones adorn every structure, the vast majority of which are temples to every god Man has ever created. All they are are Demons in the guise of Angels, promising power, but giving weakness.
There are shrines, pagodas, houses, and statues beyond count, all tended by their Demon until Mankind moves on. Then, a new Demon takes over that spot, and the old Demon retires to taskmastery.
There were shrines to Lust, to Anger, to Pride and to Envy. All of the Shrines were massive, but there was one that rule over the empty city of Temples. War. The Temple to the Demon of War was bigger, more evil, and not only adorned with, but made out of Bones. It was the size of a mountain, with red fires burning in its gargantuan depths.
As soon as Chaos regained his form, Demons began to solidify in the Abyss. They made their way to the Giant Being in the Darkness, standing on the steps of the Dark Palace. They crowded around, watching him. He raised his head, his fiery eyes burning towards the Endless Palace, endless miles time and space above him.
"Just wait, Craos. I'm coming for you."
Turning to his minions, he said, "Wait here. I have some business to finish." His body changed into spirit form, and drifted away.
On Cortalia, Tu`il and Te`ara were walking with Craos in the cool of the evening. He was teaching them things that the human race has forgotten, how to give love without measure, mercy without end, and grace without ceasing. They both hung on his every word, adoring the Perfect Being that had created, sustained, and was nurturing them.
Finally, as He did every evening, Craos reached the top of Mount Holiness, from whence He had first taken Tu`il and Te`ara to Retalia. He turned towards them, smiled, and, in turn, embraced them both. "Stay strong and trust me, children. I will visit you tomorrow."
He disappeared in a flash of white light. The two humans turned away, walking back down the mountain. They had found a place in a pleasant glade where they slept, though there was no reason to; their bodies were perfect, needing no refueling.
The two of them lay down, side by side, his arm under her neck, gazing up at the stars. The air was quiet except for the hum of insects, and the soft tread of a tiger nearby.
The silence prevailed until Te`ara turned and put her small, delicate on Tu`il's barrel chest.
"I love you."
Tu`il's sleepy eyes opened, blinked, and, turning, met hers. "I love you more."
She snuggled close to him, her body warming his and he hers. The night closed in quietly.
In the shadows, a faint light shone. A purple light. For a moment, it stood still. Then, it shook faintly. About five feet above it, two orbs of fury shone for a moment. Chaos had come to Cortalia.
He shifted form, changing between bird and beast. Finally, he saw an animal that he liked better than the rest. A Snake.
Later that evening, Te`ara was awoken by a soft voice.
"Te`ara!"
She rose, rubbing the sleepiness out of her eyes so she could see the speaker. For a moment, she could see nothing. Then, the form of a golden snake wove its way into her vision.
"Yes?"
"Come with me." The snake turned, and slithered away, head held high.
Te`ara rose, brushing the grass off her back. She followed, her soft feet making no noise.
The Snake led to a tree. A lone tree, a great tree. The bark is black, the leaves are grey and silver. The fruit is golden. It is the Tree of Knowledge. The Snake turned to face Te`ara, who stood behind him, fingering her hair, curious of what the animal would do next.
The Snake stood, examining her perfect form. As there was no evil in Cortalia as of yet, she felt no shame in the fact that she wore nothing, nor in the fact that someone was examining her body.
After considering her for a moment, the Snake asked, "Do you know what this tree is?"
"It is the Tree of Knowledge; the only tree we may not eat of."
"Who told you that, fair one?"
"The Maker."
"Did he now? Did He tell you why, fair one?"
Te`ara turned her head to the side, considering. "No, He just said to trust him."
Inside the snake's mind, Chaos' spirit smiled. His Plan was working beautifully.
"Well, sweetheart, I'll tell you. It makes you wise- as wise as Craos."
Out of the corner of his eye, the Snake saw her eyes widen. A slow smile spread over his face. "My dear, why don't you try one for yourself?"
Te`ara considered for a moment. "I shouldn't..... But does it truly make you stronger?"
"Yes, my beauty, wise as Craos... or mayhap, wiser...."
For a moment, the internal struggle showed on Te`ara's face. Then, the conflict resolved, she reached out her hand and grabbed a fruit. For a moment, she stood looking at it. Then, her eyes rose to the Snake's eyes. Confusion lurked in the depths of the orbs she turned to him.
An evil smile spread over the Snake's visage. "Eat it, beautiful. Become better than you are."
Te`ara gave a deep sigh, then seemed to be about to drop the fruit. However, some evil impulse emanating from the snake drove her mind to his side. She lifted the Golden Fruit to her mouth and took a bite.
"I think your husband would like some, my dear." Te`ara nodded and walked back to the glade, where Tu`il, having awakened, was looking for her. He turned around as she entered the clearing, smiling at seeing his beloved. When he saw the beautiful fruit she held, he raised an eyebrow.
"My darling, where did you get that?"
"The Tree of Knowledge."
He was taken aback.
"Darling, were we not commanded to... Did you eat of it?"
"Yes, my dear. Will you not partake with me?"
Tu`il considered. On one hand, he had been ordered not to eat of the Tree, ordered by the Maker. On the other, this was his wife- his true love, his everything.... And, on the other hand.... Tu`il started with the realization that his wife was getting bigger! He walked over to her and placed his hands on her belly, which was slightly round. He felt nothing for a moment, then a tiny thump from inside made his heart flutter. A Child. Their Child. He looked up at Te`ara, who smiled faintly.
Tu`il took the fruit without another thought. He bit it.
The Snake Form Chaos had held fell from his mighty form. He towered over the two humans, who cowered in his shadow; feeling fear for the first time.
"You have failed, Craos!" The Master Demon called to the stars. Turning to the humans, he simply said, "Welcome to Hell."
The two humans looked at each other. For the first time, Tu`il noticed that Te`ara was small and weak, easily dominated. Te`ara saw that Tu`il was dominated by his anger, easily nagged. The two began to draw away from each other, black hate blossoming between them. Te`ara felt shame as she felt the Man's peircing eyes on her. Tu`il felt shame as he saw the Woman's eyes sizing him up, mocking him with her stare. As they stood there, the top of Mount Holiness began to glow.
"The Maker is coming!" Shame forgotten, Tu`il took Te`ara's hand and ran to a nearby clump of bushes.
"Tu`il?" The Voice of the Maker made the ground quiver and the air shimmer.
No response.
"Tu`il?" The Voice was nearer.
Tu`il, summoning his courage, stood up. "Here I am, Lord."
"Why did you not answer me the first time, First Man?"
"I... I was afraid, Lord."
"Why?"
"Because I was naked."
"Who told you you were naked, First Man? Have you eaten of the Tree of Knowledge?"
"The Woman you gave me gave me the Fruit, and I ate."
"Woman, come forward." Craos was now standing before Tu`il, sad eyes locked with Tu`il's. Te`ara hesitantly rose and, blushing with shame, faced the Maker.
"This is true, Woman?"
"The Snake told me I would be as you, Lord, and I ate."
Craos saw the form of Chaos, turning to Spirit, far in the distance. "I will pass judgement on him later. As for you two,"
Craos looked at them long and hard. "You, woman, shall have great pain in childbirth. You shall be servant to your husband, for you have deceived him." Turning to Tu`il, "You, man, shall labor all the days of your life. The Ground is cursed because of you, by the sweat of your brow shall you eat. Lastly, you two shall not stay here, but shall be driven far from this Paradise, which I will remove from this earth. You are not worthy of it. Farewell, First Man and First Woman."
Craos began to walk away. Then, He turned back to the two miserable humans. "Know that I still love you, very much. I must remove this so that you will not live forever in your sin. I want you to be with me. But, you must endure mortal life first, because of your choice."
Tu`il and Te`ara looked up. The Maker smiled. They both mirrored the gesture as He vanished. Mount Holiness shone like a beacon, then the Earth darkened. Not for long, though. From the Heavens came a bright light. First it was a star, then it was a comet. Finally, it looked like what it was- an Angel. Not any angel, as a matter of fact, an Archangel.
He landed on one knee, his hands on the ground, his wings touching the earth. He was a Fire Archangel; his entire being glowed with a red-orange radiance. His body was made of flame; his clothes were made of smoke. His name was Falior.
He stood, his mighty twelve foot form towering over the two. "You two must leave this Garden."
Tu`il and Te`ara were about to resist when they saw the mighty weapon he carried- a greatsword. Sadly, they left the Garden, Falior following, never to return.
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Chapter 4 - The Rebellion
After Te`ara was created, Craos rested. Not because of the strain of creation; but to give Tu`il a model which he could follow easily. However, as often happens, bad things happened during his absence.
Four Helpers, three of the leaders and one of the fire subordinates, met in one of the quiet rooms in the Endless Palace. The meeting was not to discuss their Maker and His greatness, but for a far more sinister purpose.
Zortun spoke first. His resonant voice filled the chamber. "I trust that we all know why we are here."
Silent agreement followed.
Nodding, Zortun continued. "We know that Craos, be He divine does not allow us power to command men. Tu`il, the First man, serves only Craos, not us. I am of the opinion that we can defeat Craos and take his place."
A long silence followed. Then, the only one who was not a leader of an Element, Fildor, spoke. "There is no way to defeat Craos. We would need to strike Him, all at once. And that doesn't even factor in the Angels or the other Helpers."
The clever Beruyl spoke. "True. And the only way to strike as one... is to be One."
Raiton, after a swift deliberation, added, "We need the Angels on our side first."
Zortun walked to the door. "Already ahead of you, brother."
Opening the door, he let in a flood of Angels, all looking suspiciously around them. Once the throng- roughly a third of the Heavenly Host- had entered the room and stood, awaiting orders, Zortun shut the door.
"Welcome, Messengers. Do be seated." The Angels looked around, and seeing nothing but the floor, sat there. "You all know why we are here," continued Zortun. "We are about to start a... a.... We'll call it a war. A War to end Craos' rule. He doesn't give us what we need. Power. We all want power. And you - pointing at the Angels - need us as much as we need you. We will assault Heaven and will sit on the Throne of Craos."
An angel raised their hand. "Yes?"
"Which one of you will sit on the Throne? There are four of you."
"The One will."
The angels shifted, confused and suspicious. "Clear a space in the center of the room." ordered Zortun. The Four walked to the center of the room through the Angelic throng. There, they stood for a moment. "What we are about to do will allow us to break free from Craos' heavy yoke! We will face everything and rise! We will gain ultimate power!" So saying, Zortun, Beruyl, Fildor, and Raiton joined hands.
A shockwave rocked the Endless Palace. The Angels in the crowded room pushed against the walls, confused as to what would emerge from the billowing black smoke. Flames, waves, stones, and fierce winds came from the center of that room. For almost ten minutes, the shockwaves and the smoke were all that the Angels could feel.
Then, the shaking slowed and ceased. The noise of raging wind, the freezing water, blazing fire, and deadly stones stopped. The smoke began to drift away.
In the center of the room, there was a single Being. Standing in the center of a crater that certainly hadn't been there before was Someone, twenty feet tall, almost double the Angels' height. He was strongly built, with the look of a boxer or a weightlifter. His body was a mixture of the Elements. He was built of Earth. His voice was the Wind. His eyes were fire. His Blade, which was his right arm, was made of Dark Ice. He wore only a loincloth wrapped around his waist. His eyes surveyed the throng silently.
Then, a smile broke on the black face. It looked like a volcanic gash, but the Angels understood the meaning. They began to cheer, first a babble of voices, but the Being stilled them with his left hand.
"Down. With. CRAOS!"
His voice shook the heavens. However, as the Angels mimicked his roars, he didn't realize that Someone else was listening.
Craos had awoken at the sound of the turmoil, and had summoned Shutan, his right hand, to the Throne Room. All the Eight were summoned moments later. The Angels descended from the beams of the structure at Craos' command. There, weapons drawn, the waited.
For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then, the light of the stars began to dim as the Smoke rolling off the Evil One began to penetrate the Palace walls. As the Host began to shift, the Doors of the Throne Room shook. After a few minutes of the thunderous hammering, Craos had had enough. He spoke a Word and the Doors opened.
In came the Horde of the Evil One. Instead of the white-clad Angels that had entered the room an hour earlier, black-clad beings raced into the room. Instead of bird-like wings, their wings now resembled those of bats. They had black armor with red Orbs of Life instead of the clear blue the angels possessed.
The first Demon made the mistake of going straight for Shutan. The Mighty, as he was aptly named, swung his massive mace on high and brought it crashing down on the Demon's head. Nothing remained but a pool of blood and two crushed wings. Another came after- Shutan whipped out a knife and sliced off its wings as he dove away from its grasp. The Mace followed. Crunch. Whirling, Shutan saw that Icarilius wasn't doing so well.
The smaller wind Helper had been grabbed from behind, and his bow was useless at that range. However, Shutan was wrong in thinking that Icarilius was in need of aid.
Dropping the bow, the quick Wind Helper drew his knives and began his work in a different way. Firstly, he stabbed both into the eye sockets of the Demon that was clawing his back. Then, he spun, slicing two more Demons' heads. He saw Shutan and nodded to him.
Yulik was wielding his spear with deadly power. Not a single Demon got a finger on him the entire battle. He fought his way to Porakin, sometimes called the Small, who was being dragged down. Yulik cleared the Demons with half a dozen swift strokes. Back to back, Porakin with his gladius, Yulik with his spear, they faced the Horde.
Narcoi was carrying javelins, and carrying them well. Despite an early wound from an arrow in his left shoulder, he was sprinting all over the battlefield, throwing his javelins through Demons, pulling them out through the Demon, and casting them once more.
Tyren was using a pair of lightsteel knuckles. True, nothing fancy, but effective. His massive biceps propelled the Holy Metal into Demons' faces and chests, causing them to crumple like paper dolls.
Fildor was next to Tyren, cleaning up the Earth Helper's leftovers with a katana. Swift death awaited all within his reach.
Ramil had two katars, daggers with horizontal instead of vertical grips. Something like Tyren's knuckles, but with knife blades on them. He was close to the Throne, taking down all Demons that approached Craos.
Vira`il the Brave was battling the Evil One himself. The Icy Blade cut deep several times, but the rash Vira`il battled on. His Hammer made several dents in the Darksteel Armor the Evil One now wore, but never did it bite flesh. Finally, Vira`il missed a hit, overswung, and the Evil One, seeing his chance, gave him a open-handed slap to the face. Vira`il went flying to the feet of the Throne, where Craos still sat, watching his servants fight for Him.
However, the time for sitting past, Craos rose. He walked down the steps and picked up Vira`il, touching each would with his hand. The Life fluttered back into him, and his eyes opened.
By now, most of the Demons had been crushed, slashed, hacked, or speared to death, and all was silent. The rest of the Horde fell back behind the Evil One, awaiting his commandment.
The Smoke surged forward, towards Craos.
"Fear me, Creator. I will strike you down, here where you stand." The cracks in his skin, where the licking flames emanated from, sent forth hotter and darker flames.
"That didn't work so well for your Demons, ... What is it you call yourself?"
"You are Craos. I will destroy you. I am Chaos."
"Chaos, eh? And what makes you more powerful than I am, Chaos?"
"THIS!"
A fist made of shadow shot out of the smoke, straight toward Craos. However, before the Maker moved to retaliate, Shutan stepped in. His mace, as he swung, morphed into a hammer, which disintegrated the fist like a snowball.
Chaos laughed. The evil sound reverberated through the massive room. "You can't best me, Shutan, Lord of Flame. I will defeat you with the power of-"
Shutan rushed forward, spinning, and brought his hammer down with all his strength on the marble floor. A shockwave blasted Chaos off his feet and to the floor. The black figure tried to rise, but Shutan was on top of him, fiery fist pounding into his dark face. Chaos tried to rise, but Shutan, with his armor on, was too heavy. Chaos punched back, but Shutan burned with a heated vengeance.
Finally, when Chaos was stunned temporarily, Shutan and the other 7 Helpers dragged him to the center of the Throne Room, directly in front of the Throne. There, in the carved Runes that adorned the floor, a circle opened. The Runes shoved each other to form a circle that was about forty feet around. Shutan threw Chaos into the Circle of Runes. Craos, who had walked quietly back to his throne, observed in silence. Vira`il and Icarilius came, carrying smoking chains. They tied Chaos to the ground, attaching the chains to the hooks that rose out of the floor at Shutan's command.
"My lord, wilt pass judgement on this rogue?"
"Yes, Shutan. Thank you." Turning to Chaos, the Maker said, "You have disrupted My Perfect Creation. For that, there is but one punishment. Eternity way from the light." So saying, Craos said a Word, the hooks disappeared, leaving Craos wrapped like a cocoon. Another Word and the Circle of Runes opened, letting him fall like a leaf, down into the Abyss.
Thursday, July 21, 2016
Chapter 3 - Te'ara
Craos stood at in the Throne Room of the Endless Place. All was silent within the Universe; the confusing babble of Mankind had not yet assailed the Maker's ears.
Tu`il stood behind him, his gold body and white eyes gleaming in the darkness. After a few hours, (for Time had begun when the Worlds were made), the First Man spoke.
"Master?"
Craos stirred. "Yes, Tu`il?"
"On what do you ponder?"
"On My Universe, Tu`il." Another moment of silence followed. "I made these worlds Perfect." Craos turned to face Tu`il. "With one exception."
One golden eyebrow raised. "Master?"
"I want intelligent beings, Tu`il. Beings to worship me. Beings that I can bring Home here when their moral lives end."
Tu`il considered this for a moment. "The Helpers are all immortal, as are the Angels. I'm the only one who isn't - is that what I'm for?"
"Yes, Tu`il." Craos turned back to the view of the Universe. He spoke a Word and a single planet came into focus. A lush, green planet, teeming with resources and life.
"This is your new home, Tu`il. Name it."
"Cortalia."
"Well named. There are but two things left until we can send you down to that world. Firstly, you will need to be taken out of your Divine Body. It will be left here, guarded, until the day of your return to me. Secondly, you will need a helper." Craos turned back to Tu`il. "Close your eyes, First Man."
Tu`il's white eyes closed slowly, the white orbs becoming crescent moons, slivers, then the eyelids covered them fully. Craos stepped toward him, and touched Tu`il's forehead with his right thumb. The golden skin began to fall away, but the flakes of gold reformed into a shell some thirty feet away. Tu`il, after a few moments, opened eyes- eyes as blue as the summer sky at high noon.
"Lie down, First Man."
Tu`il, now in the frail flesh of Mankind, lay down on an obsidian alter that rose with Craos' thought. Craos stood over him, deliberating. He then, gently, ran his finger down Tu`il's right side. The skin and muscle split gently apart under the God's touch, down to the smooth, white rib. Tu`il stirred in his sleep. Craos turned to ensure he remained asleep, and, satisfied, returned to his work.
He carefully touched the rib. It came away in his hands; and another grew instantly in its place. The muscle and skin closed as Craos' hand drew away, carrying the still warm rib. Turning, Craos
walked to another alter that had risen a moment before. He laid the lone rib down on it. He said a Word again, and the Magic began to work.
The rib floated a few inches above the table. Besides that, everything was still for a moment. Then, a skeleton began to grow from the rib. The spine appeared, then the other ribs, then the skull and appendages. As soon as the bones were all present, the muscles began to form. As soon as the red tissue was completed, the skin began to cover it. The skin, instead of Tu`il's gold, was of a silver sheen. The hair was a raven black.
Craos stood back, admiring His handiwork. The body was slighter than Tu`il's, yet possessed invisible strengths that First Man lacked. A perfect partner. Craos again took an Orb of Life and placed it on First Woman's forehead. After the same effect it had on Tu`il, her white eyes opened and she breathed into her lungs the Breath of Life.
Tu`il, who had awakened, walked over to her alter, by which she knelt, worshiping Craos. She looked confused as Tu`il gently took her arms and drew her to her feet. As his hands met her silver skin, it fell off her as his had and flew over to the Golden Statue, where it reformed into a feminine shape.
Tu`il held her at arms length, and a satisfied smile crept over his features, to be mirrored on hers. He put his strong arm around her shoulder, turning to face the Maker, who was smiling Himself.
"Thank you, Master."
Craos, still smiling, said, "What shall be her name, Tu`il?"
Turning to look into the brown eyes of his beautiful partner, Tu`il took his time. Finally, he stirred and said, "You drew her from my flesh and bone, Master. She shall be called Te`ara, for she shall be my queen."
"So be it."
Tu`il stood behind him, his gold body and white eyes gleaming in the darkness. After a few hours, (for Time had begun when the Worlds were made), the First Man spoke.
"Master?"
Craos stirred. "Yes, Tu`il?"
"On what do you ponder?"
"On My Universe, Tu`il." Another moment of silence followed. "I made these worlds Perfect." Craos turned to face Tu`il. "With one exception."
One golden eyebrow raised. "Master?"
"I want intelligent beings, Tu`il. Beings to worship me. Beings that I can bring Home here when their moral lives end."
Tu`il considered this for a moment. "The Helpers are all immortal, as are the Angels. I'm the only one who isn't - is that what I'm for?"
"Yes, Tu`il." Craos turned back to the view of the Universe. He spoke a Word and a single planet came into focus. A lush, green planet, teeming with resources and life.
"This is your new home, Tu`il. Name it."
"Cortalia."
"Well named. There are but two things left until we can send you down to that world. Firstly, you will need to be taken out of your Divine Body. It will be left here, guarded, until the day of your return to me. Secondly, you will need a helper." Craos turned back to Tu`il. "Close your eyes, First Man."
Tu`il's white eyes closed slowly, the white orbs becoming crescent moons, slivers, then the eyelids covered them fully. Craos stepped toward him, and touched Tu`il's forehead with his right thumb. The golden skin began to fall away, but the flakes of gold reformed into a shell some thirty feet away. Tu`il, after a few moments, opened eyes- eyes as blue as the summer sky at high noon.
"Lie down, First Man."
Tu`il, now in the frail flesh of Mankind, lay down on an obsidian alter that rose with Craos' thought. Craos stood over him, deliberating. He then, gently, ran his finger down Tu`il's right side. The skin and muscle split gently apart under the God's touch, down to the smooth, white rib. Tu`il stirred in his sleep. Craos turned to ensure he remained asleep, and, satisfied, returned to his work.
He carefully touched the rib. It came away in his hands; and another grew instantly in its place. The muscle and skin closed as Craos' hand drew away, carrying the still warm rib. Turning, Craos
walked to another alter that had risen a moment before. He laid the lone rib down on it. He said a Word again, and the Magic began to work.
The rib floated a few inches above the table. Besides that, everything was still for a moment. Then, a skeleton began to grow from the rib. The spine appeared, then the other ribs, then the skull and appendages. As soon as the bones were all present, the muscles began to form. As soon as the red tissue was completed, the skin began to cover it. The skin, instead of Tu`il's gold, was of a silver sheen. The hair was a raven black.
Craos stood back, admiring His handiwork. The body was slighter than Tu`il's, yet possessed invisible strengths that First Man lacked. A perfect partner. Craos again took an Orb of Life and placed it on First Woman's forehead. After the same effect it had on Tu`il, her white eyes opened and she breathed into her lungs the Breath of Life.
Tu`il, who had awakened, walked over to her alter, by which she knelt, worshiping Craos. She looked confused as Tu`il gently took her arms and drew her to her feet. As his hands met her silver skin, it fell off her as his had and flew over to the Golden Statue, where it reformed into a feminine shape.
Tu`il held her at arms length, and a satisfied smile crept over his features, to be mirrored on hers. He put his strong arm around her shoulder, turning to face the Maker, who was smiling Himself.
"Thank you, Master."
Craos, still smiling, said, "What shall be her name, Tu`il?"
Turning to look into the brown eyes of his beautiful partner, Tu`il took his time. Finally, he stirred and said, "You drew her from my flesh and bone, Master. She shall be called Te`ara, for she shall be my queen."
"So be it."
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