Chapter 8 - Zoltar

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. 

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.