FW3 Vignettes

[Daos]

These are little stories I wrote with my immense freetime, giving you guys some idea of what is happening in the rest of Cradle, and what characters from the previous games are up to. Here's the first, I'll post more later.

=================================

In the darkness of the laboratory, various flasks of colored liquids boiled and bubbled under the heat of a burning charcoal brazier. There was no need for torches or candles to light the room, as the only occupant, the raptor Zevar, could easily see in the dark.

The lab was in a stone tower that had been built specially for him almost ten years ago, on the outskirts of Buho. Hildebrand Montajay was all too eager to see to the raptor’s needs, especially when Zevar told him he would need a lab to properly prepare his magic for the day when the Empire struck. And that day would be fast approaching, Zevar was too well aware.

For the past ten years, Zevar had continued his study of the star rocks. Although he knew a way to break them down and absorb their essence into his own body, it was a terribly wasteful procedure. Zevar estimated that at least 80% of the star rock’s power was simply lost in the process. Surely, there must be a more efficient method of harnessing their power. And finally, Zevar believed he knew the answer.

There was a gentle rap on his front door. The raptor knew who it was, for he had been expecting her. With a gesture, he extinguished the brazier and after a quick check to make sure everything in his lab was in place, he went to answer the door. Pulling it open, he saw an aging Halfling priestess in the vestments of the church.

“They are waiting for you,” Hilda said. With a nod, the raptor joined her, closing the door behind him. Despite the pleasant spring weather, the two quickly made their way to the Montajay manor.

Hilda went in first, gesturing for the raptor to wait. He did so patiently. A couple of fisherman walked by, eying him warily. Even after ten years of living in this village, the people of Buho were still more than a little nervous in his presence. Zevar did not mind. If they got too comfortable, they may start pestering him for favors. He enjoyed his privacy.

After a few moments, he heard Hilda call for him. Stepping inside the waiting room, he was greeted by the collective gasps of four young humans. He had expected that. One of them even reached for a blade cautiously, unsure of how to react.

“This is the one who hired us?” asked one of the females, never taking her eyes off Zevar. She was wearing dark leather and had half a dozen blades strapped to her belt.

“He’s a raptor! Gosh, I’ve never seen one before,” commented another female, this one wearing brown robes.

“Indeed I am,” Zevar responded. “I am Zevar. I asked Hilda to put out the word for me. It was a necessary deception. Most humans would not have considered had they known it was me.”

“You’re the raptor that lives in the tower,” said one of the men. He had slicked back dark hair and wore bronze plate mail with the emblem of the Trueblade Order upon his chest.

“They say he betrayed his people and fight for the humans now,” said the second male, who like Hilda, was wearing the vestments of a priest of the Church of Light Solace.

“This is correct,” Zevar confirmed. “For the past ten years, I have been researching ways to fight the Empire when it inevitably attacks. But I require some...outside assistance.”

“You don’t want us to be test subjects, do you?” the rogue asked warily.

“Not quite. What I need is for you to find and retrieve someone for me. I am too busy with my research to scour the plains, so I am hiring you.”

“The church and my father fully support Zevar and his work,” Hilda piped in, helping to soothe the nerves of the four adventurers.

“Very well,” said the paladin. “Who is this person you seek?”

“It’s not a specific person, but a type of person. It is absolutely vital for my work. And this person must be brought in alive. The term your people use for this type of person is a ‘witch.’”

“Witch?” asked the cleric, puzzled.

“Correct. I need a human being...who is host to a demon.”

[Airellian]

Sleep did not come easily to Sunny. He had been plagued by dreams for so many months that he dreaded sleep's embrace. But even with all his divine gifts, he could not stave off the night forever. That night he slumbered as he did the night before and the night before last, and the dreams came.

It began as it always did. A bright summer day, the sun shining down on the wheat fields, not yet ripe for harvest. It was the land that Sunny loved. As always, however, its tranquil peace was broken by an oncoming storm. Dark clouds bristling with lightning and hail approached from the horizon, ready to flay the wheat and soil until the ground was bare and sterile.

For months, this dream had come to Sunny, causing him to toss and turn until he awoke in a cold sweat. He knew what it meant, or thought he did. War was coming, one that would engulf his homeland until only fire and ash remained. The weight of the world was on his small shoulders, but he had no solutions, no answers.

This night was different however. The dream did not end.

The hills and fields flowed past, and Sunny could see the familiar river that dominated his homeland. The river delta soon shone in the horizon, and Sunny realized that he was traveling west.

His suspicions were confirmed when the wide expanse of the Endless Sea lay before him. A light broke through the storm clouds to shine down upon the sea. A voice sounded in Sunny's ears. A father's voice, deep and powerful, with understanding and kindness.

Seek them out.

Sunny awoke.

---

Bludsin 4, 603

At long last, Sunny had arrived in Rivertown. It had been almost two years since he last set foot here, and he didn't know quite how to feel. He had been holed up in Buho for the winter, unable to travel back to the Deltalands because of the poor weather and even poorer roads.

But, he was back in Rivertown. Sunny decided he would feel glad. After all, he could see his sisters again. He had tried to call on them in Lindendale, but had been told that they had traveled to Sanctuary for the winter and were not due back until later that spring. Annabelle was sure to contemplate "harsh sanctions" if Sunny did not make the extra effort to reunite with the family in Sanctuary. Sunny smiled fondly at the thought.

But Sunny wasn't in Rivertown to visit his relations; he had a meeting he had to get to. He could see the Office of the Governor, a large burrow near the center of the city. Like most public buildings in a hobbit city, it was not given to ostentation, but a large number of people trafficked through that Office, on the business of the government. Its size was a necessity, if a bit daunting. Sunny wandered the tunnels, clean and well lit, until he came to the correct room. He knocked, and a voice inside said, "Come in!"

Inside were two of the most powerful and influential persons in the Deltalands. The Governor of the Deltalands, Bardoc Stoutheart, and the Lightbringer of the Light of Solace Church, Osborn Underbough. Already, they had their pipes out and lit, blowing smokerings into the air above them.

"Greenhaven! Your last letter said you would be back next month!" The Governor's voice was booming, used as it was to give rousing speeches while on the campaign stump.

"The snow melted earlier than expected, Governor," Sunny said as he took a seat. "I came back as soon as I could. I take it you received my reports?" Sunny had sent a scroll by Guild caravan detailing his progress in the Freewind Plains every season as he was able.

"Yes, though I can't say I appreciate the methods you used!" Sunny could only shrug at the Governor's comment. He knew the Governor and the Guild were at odds with each other, but Sunny had to use the methods available to him, and the only way to get a letter delivered to the Deltalands in a timely fashion was through the Guild.

The Governor continued. "I don't know how I feel about you making your reports here in this Office, Greenhaven. Bad enough you come here, Osborn. I can just hear the table gossip. 'Collusion, corruption, all manner of Secret Business being conducted behind Closed Doors.'" The portly hobbit shuddered.

Sunny frowned. He had forgotten the Governor's own blunt manner, softened as it was in written correspondence. "I won't have our meetings cloaked in secrecy, Governor. We have nothing to hide."

"We have to be aware of appearances," the Governor countered. "The Opposition has informants everywhere. Yes, even in this Office! I can't weed them out based on faction, there would be an outcry. Which means, we have to be careful about how we conduct ourselves."

The Lightbringer's own soft voice interjected. "Bardoc, I doubt they'll notice one small meeting. The people are distracted with that recent incident on the road."

The Governor shook his head with disgust. "A ghastly business."

Sunny quirked an eyebrow. "Governor? Lightbringer?"

"A Guild caravan was robbed on the road from Lindendale," the Governor's voice boomed. "I'm surprised you didn't hear about it."

"A Guild caravan? Under which family? Was it the Black Cloud?" Memories resurfaced, but Sunny tried to gain control of himself. If it was a Greenhaven caravan, then any one of his family might be threatened.

"No, no, it wasn't humans, and no one was killed. Perhaps roughed up a bit, but no worse for wear. The perpetrators were hobbits."

"Hobbits! Robbing other hobbits?"

"It's not unheard of. Especially in these desperate times. Though it caused quite a stir when the news reached us here in Rivertown!"

Sunny could only digest the news in silence. Finally, the Lightbringer interrupted his thoughts with a question.

"Do you have your final report, Brother Greenhaven?"

Sunny nodded and handed both hobbits a scroll, written in his own careful hand. The language was tailored for each of them, but the general contents remained the same.

"We'll read these later, but can you summarize these for us, Sunny?"

Sunny nodded. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. Then, he spoke.

"As you know, last year the Black Cloud attacked the village of Oath. They were repelled, though not without heavy casualties on both sides. There is testimony that the Black Cloud were sent to Oath by the Empire. I suspect the order came directly from Semuanya, or through direct intermediaries, though there's no proof of that."

"What's more, Hadubrand Montajay resides in Oath. It is a clear violation of all of our treaties with the Empire."

"I had multiple plans in place to unite humanity in the hopes of opposing the Empire. All of them failed. In fact, there are forces in place that will ensure that humanity will remain divided for the foreseeable future. I suspect these forces will center around Narin and Buho, though time will tell for certain."

The room was silent after Sunny's report as they soaked in the information.

Finally, the Governor spoke, though his voice was much subdued. "How would you suggest we respond to this... violation?"

"It is a clear and just pretext for war, Governor. The question is, would we win?"

The question was clear on both their faces, but the Governor was the one who asked. "Would we?"

Sunny sighed. "Perhaps a hundred years ago, when humanity had only stone daggers and their numbers were confined to small villages scattered across the Freewind Plains. When the raptors were a single tribe with few friends of their own. We had many allies then, and the trust of humanity. Then, we might have faced the Empire successfully had we responded on the first encroachment."

Sunny shook his head. "As things stand now... No. We cannot win. The Empire is too large. Its resources equal if not dwarf our own. They have arcane powers that remain an enigma to us. And their appetite for conquest has left them with enough human slaves to outnumber any army we or any of the free cities could field."

Sunny held up a hand. "Do not mistake me. It would be a long and costly war for the Empire. But in the end, we would fall."

"And with humanity united, standing by our side?" the Lightbringer asked.

Sunny shook his head sadly. "That way is lost to us. They are the very wind. Their natural proclivities move them towards division and strife. Their way is not our way."

The Governor looked troubled. "So, our response should be nothing?"

The Lightbringer looked at his old friend. "Perhaps that is best, Bardoc. Perhaps time will provide a better answer."

The Governor blew a gust of smoke. "We can't keep this a secret, Osborn. Already, murmurs of the events at Oath have reached the people's ears. The Frontiersmen are already calling for my blood. The Hearth-tenders, too! I can't contain the situation if it becomes known that the Empire was directly responsible for the attack on Oath!"

Sunny replied softly. "Only a handful of people know that."

The Governor gripped his pipe until his knuckles were white. "So. We do nothing but wait."

Sunny fidgeted in his seat. He had the inklings of a wild idea, an idea inspired by dreams. He just didn't know how to broach the topic without coming off as mad. He took a deep breath. The two men before him were looking for solutions. He had to give them all the advice and council he thought necessary. Whether they listened was another matter.

"There is, perhaps, another option available to us." Both heads looked up curiously at Sunny. After drawing another deep breath, he continued.

"As I said, we have another option. For five hundred years, we believed we were alone, with no knowledge of the outside world. Yet, we soon discovered that humanity existed, as described in the Tablet of Origin. It is possible that the other races exist as well, and if they do, we can find them."

Both men were stunned. It was outside reason. To suggest mythical stories as the solution to their problems in the real world!

"Now see here, Greenhaven! You've just given us a dire outlook for the future of our people. And you're suggesting we go chasing myths?"

Still, Sunny had to forge ahead, had to keep going, knowing he was digging himself further and further down a very deep hole.

"I've heard reports of an island off the coast of Narin. There was a temple there, with a door and altar made entirely of iron, and a statue of a strange creature. It was described to me as 'a bald, bearded hobbit with shoes.' Written on the altar was an alien script never before seen by any of the known races."

Sunny shrugged apologetically. "It's only one story, but I confirmed it with each of the witnesses. One of them was the granddaughter of Hildebrand Montajay."

The two men looked thoughtful upon hearing the Montajay name. There was a long silence that stretched for many minutes.

"And your proposal?" the Lightbringer asked quietly.

"We build a ship strong enough to brave the Endless Sea. Then, we go chasing myths."

"How do you propose we pay for that sort of thing? I can just hear the Chamber budgetary committee now! They won't support it, you know that. And why should they? Who would go chasing after myths when we should be building up an army or fortifications or--"

Sunny responded calmly but forcefully. "I didn't say it would be easy. No, we don't have the means to build a ship of any size, much less the ones used by Narin, much less one capable of circling the world. We would have to build up the infrastructure from the ground up. We would have to spend years gathering funds, supplies. Our own experiences in sailing the sea are at best limited. The undertaking would be enormous, costly, very probably bankrupting the entire nation."

The Governor's face turned red as Sunny mounted difficulty upon difficulty, but Sunny became more passionate as he continued to speak. "However, our other options are bleak and fruitless. Cutting off the rest of the world will shut out the only human friends that we have. We would die a slow death, starved. Taking the battle to the Empire will destroy us. This is our only choice that offers some measure of hope! The other races are out there, somewhere! I know it! If they can manipulate iron, then they must be so far above us as we were when we met humanity. I can find them, and with the Arbiter's help and grace, I can befriend them. That is our choice."

Sunny was breathless after that speech. He dared not look at the other two men's faces for fear of their expressions. After a long pause, he risked a glance.

Bardoc looked thoughtful, puffing on his pipe as he considered Sunny's words. Osborn looked directly into Sunny's eyes, as if he would read his very soul.

Osborn spoke. "You're right, Sunny. it won't be easy. But you're also right that we have very few choices. Let us consider this further. Bardoc?"

Bardoc harrumphed. "What you say has merit, Greenhaven. But we can't go at this half-cocked. If what you say is true, there's simply no way we can build this boat and set it off by the time elections roll around. We need to go about this careful. Methodical-like. Otherwise, all our efforts could be undone by a simple vote of the people."

The Governor raised a hand abruptly to cut off any protest from Sunny. "I'm not saying we shouldn't at least consider it. But we need to exercise restraint. I'd like you to draft a report on this new proposal of yours. Costs, supplies, manpower, etc. That sort of thing. Have it ready by next month. We'll meet again then. Agreed?"

Sunny nodded mutely. A feeling of elation was bubbling within him. He had gotten them to listen. That was all that mattered for right now.

[Daos]

Drogo Digger walked through the abandoned ghost town, hands in his pockets and head hung low. A chill wind blew by, kicking up dirt into the air. There was no other sound or movement that the halfling could see. He was the last one, all on his own.

Feeling even smaller than normal, for Drogo was always the smallest of the halflings his age, he came across a large pit that had been dug into the ground. Several shovels were still stuck in the ground nearby. Looking down into the pit, he saw the bodies. They belonged to his family, friends, and everyone he had ever known in Diggerstown, the small frontier village his father had founded.

First had come the tribal raiders, likely Black Cloud. They killed several of the frontiersmen, including their only priest. Not long after came the burning sickness. Without the priest to stave off the illness, it quickly spread throughout the town. The weak, young, and elderly went first. Drogo helped to bury them. Then came the strong and healthy. Drogo helped bury them, too: His father, his mother, his fiancé, and all of his friends…until finally, he was the only left to dig.

Dark clouds brewed overhead within seconds. To Drogo’s horror and surprise, the corpses in the mass grave started to writhe and moan. Their fear of death, their despair, their suffering and their resentment toward him for surviving became a discordant cacophony that nearly deafened the hobbit. He clasped his hands over his ears, but it did no good. He could hear their cries inside his head.

Looking into the pit, his eyes locked with one corpse in particular. She was a young woman, who would have been quite beautiful before decay had set in. She reached up toward him, as if seeking his help to get out. “Drogo,” she said. “Drogo, join us. This is where you belong, my love.”

Drogo woke up, limbs flailing, entangled in his blanket. He fell off his cot, landing with a grunt. He lied there for several breaths before remembering he was in his room in the barracks of Dekan. His head pounded, but not from the fall. Unwrapping himself from his blanket, he absent-mindedly kicked aside several empty glass bottles. The floor of his room was littered with them. Often, if he drenched his mind in spirits, the dreams would not come. Tonight was an exception, though.

“Couldn’t save them,” he told himself, his mouth feeling as if it were full of cotton. But then he remembered the barbarian woman, Nalini. Could he have saved her? Instead, he fled like a coward along with that damn raptor. Since then, the dreams had returned in full force. He had previously suppressed them, although it had taken him years.

Suddenly, a young man entered his room, dressed in the bronze armor of a Dekan Hoplite. He was human, in his mid-twenties, and looked quite distressed. Drogo didn’t know him, but recognized him as one of the new corporals. “Captain!” he exclaimed. “Captain, we’re under attack!”

Immediately, Drogo sobered up. Quickly putting on his gear, the corporal helping him, he asked, “Raptors?”

“No, captain. It’s the Black Cloud. What’s more, they’re led by some kind of demon!”

“Damn,” Drogo said simply. He had never heard of such a thing. But there was no time to ask further questions. “Let’s gather up my unit, head to the gate,” he said. Saluting, the corporal ran out.

Slipping his helmet on, Drogo again thought of his family, friends, and of Nalini. Perhaps he would be joining them soon after all. He then ran outside, drawing his short sword.

[Daos]

Gilly sighed and shook her head. “Must we continue on like this, your lordship? Every time I come to you, you treat me like some kind of…political rival.”

Faris leaned back further in his cushioned chair and scoffed. His father, Phillip, had been so much more reasonable when he was mayor of Syna. Faris, however, took a dim view of the church. He saw it as a threat to his own power.

As if sensing her thoughts, Faris said, “Mother Boffin, I will not roll over and show my belly at the sight of the clergy like my father did. After all, it was faith that gave the Mad Druid his power.”

“It was also faith, faith in the Arbiter, that saved this town from the undead,” Gilly rebutted.

When it seemed the young mayor had no retort, Gilly pressed on. “We are on the same side, your lordship. We both want what is best for the people of Syna.” Gilly suspected that wasn’t true, that Faris only cared about himself and his own political image. But she decided now was the time for diplomacy, not recriminations. “My divinations hint that something terrible is on the horizon.”

Faris scoffed again and waved his hand dismissively. “Superstitious nonsense.”

“It’s not just that, my lord. Bandit activity on the roads has increased greatly in the last few months. Travelers coming into the walls have told rumors of large armies of bandits gathering in the north. It may well be that the Black Cloud is resurfacing.”

“Rumors, hearsay, or should I call it what it really is, Mother Boffin? Fear-mongering,” Faris said casually, tenting his hands.

“I beg your pardon, my lord?”

“Let’s forgo the diplomacy and just be blunt,” the mayor said. “The church is weakening, isn’t it? Attendance is down. People are no longer interested in your stuffy sermons. We have rebuilt the town and are ready to face life and its challenges without some divine being holding our hands.” He stood up and placing his hands on his desk, he leaned forward. “You are afraid. You are losing your flock and this is all just an attempt to stir up fear, bring them back to your temple…isn’t it?”

Gilly’s face reddened almost as much as her hair. Here she was trying to be civil, and he’s the one who forgoes diplomacy. Trying her best to keep her voice level, she said, “Your lordship, this has nothing to do with politics. If the town is in danger, we should be prepared.”

Faris sat back down, then swiveled his chair to the side, so he could look out the window to his office and look down at the townsfolk passing by on their daily business. “Mother Boffin, I have too many worries of my own to be worried about what your goat entrails say. My sister, who is quite mad as you know, has gone missing. Those bastards in Bronzemoon are demanding more and more for the metal from the Sennetta mine we rely on for trade. And even though the town is rebuilt and back on its feet, that could easily change if we don’t bring in more coin to the town coffers.”

He turned back toward the priestess. “The last thing I need right now is the church stirring up trouble and causing panic. I have big plans for this town. I will see it not only restored to its old glory, but be even better than before. I will not allow anyone to hinder those plans, not even the church. Are we clear?”

Gilly’s mouth straightened into a line. More than anything in the world, she wanted to reach over and bop the foolish lad on the head. But she managed to restrain herself and simply nod silently. Then she stood up, spun on her heel, and walked out without even being dismissed. She was too angry at the moment and didn’t trust herself to not snap at the mayor and cause an incident.

As she headed out back to the temple, she silently prayed that the people of Syna would not be caught unaware. She missed being on the road. She couldn’t deal with all these politics like her mother did. Shaking her head and muttering under her breath, she could only hope that the book her grandfather was writing—the one he swore would unite all of Celestos—would be finished soon. As it stood now, despite being in charge of the temple in Syna, she felt completely impotent.

[Airellian]

Everyone in Lindendale knew that the elder Greenhaven daughter was a bit queer.

For one thing, she enjoyed reading a great deal. She could often be found walking in the afternoon sun with her nose in a book, without any thought to where she was going or where her feet were stepping.

Her name was Annabelle, though her closest friends called her Belle. Her younger brother, Sunny, no more than a mere child, called her Annie, which she hated.

As is obvious, Annabelle had a great love for books. Of special interest to her, however, was sorcery. Anything at all related to it drew her interest. She devoured stories from the Plains and of the Frontiersmen. She read the same stories several times, wearing out the book's binding. She spent afternoons bothering the elder Dudley for stories until she was shooed away from his yard.

It must be said, of course, that the works of the Church were no less amazing than the arcane workings of tribal shamans and raptors. Still, to Annabelle, there was a clear difference. The works of the Church were acts of God, and thus less mysterious. Sorcery was, quite simply something else and worth studying, in her mind.

So it was that Annabelle was walking one fine spring day, her nose in a book as always. Just a few months ago, the newest addition to the family was born. Gracia was no more than a bundle of flesh dressed in swaddling cloths. All giggles and smiles and burps. Her brother delighted in teasing the baby, but Annabelle preferred her books. She had just been to the book-binder's shop and had discovered a treasure among treasures. A copy of one of Hildebrand Montajay's memoirs.

Annabelle didn't know how the book-binder had come by the manuscript, and she had asked for the story immediately. The book-binder, Gregor Headstrong, was quite willing to oblige the youthful girl with a fanciful tale of how he had acquired it under mysterious circumstances. A stranger had joined the same caravan, and one night he had vanished, leaving behind his luggage. Not one to let anything go to waste, Gregor had found the manuscript inside a bag, in tatters. With skill, he had managed to rebind the book, until it was as she saw now, a handsome book bound in tooled leather. By this point, Annabelle had grown quite bored with the story as soon as Gregor started mentioning the intricate details and troubles he had encountered while binding his book, but she paid for the book all the same.

Which is how we met our sweet Annabelle, walking along the road, her eyes on her book, but her feet managing to navigate past brambles and divots and other sorts of obstacles ready to trip up young hobbit-lasses. At last she was home, and she heard the customary clang of bronze on wood, as Jessop practiced early in the morning. Her other brother, Sunny, was there as well, receiving his elder brother's instruction with the same sort of mixture of hero worship and mischief that all younger brothers possess.

Annabelle spared a moment to wave hello to her brothers before going inside, pushing past the great green round door with its brass knob at the very center. She navigated the winding hallway and came to the study. Annabelle loved reading in the study, you see, because it had a great big chair that could swallow you up. It was soft and comfortable, and Annabelle would often spend an entire day perched in that same spot, not even bothering with supper or dinner. Fortunately, Madlin, the nanny, often remembered to bring up a tray of scones and tea for Annabelle to eat and drink while she read.

Morning passed into afternoon and soon the sun began pushing past the very tips of the trees on the horizon. Annabelle was still reading her book, quite fascinated with the somewhat dense and verbose account of the famous hobbit.

I confess myself interested in the workings of this "sorcery".
We have been chosen with a purpose in mind, this I know to be true.
We travel now with one of these tribal "shamans". The raptors claim
that what the shaman calls in ignorance is truly this sorcery. Is
it the workings of the Arbiter? Or some deeper mystery?

I have observed his methods for some time. There are strange movements
in his arms and hands. He speaks, and the sounds are familiar, but
they do not form any words that I know. But then, a light appears
where there was none. I confess myself fascinated..

"What are you reading?" Of course, it was her brother, Sunny, bother him. He had interrupted her just as she was at the very edge of her seat. She had enough sense not to drop her book, at least. Marking her place, she glared at her younger brother. He was carrying baby Gracia, her face filled with laughter.

"You're carrying her all wrong!" Annabelle said. "I was reading a very important book, not that you would know!"

"Is it magic?" Sunny said, shifting her baby sister's position in his arms. Gracia shrieked with glee.

Annabelle hesitated in answering.

"Do some magic! Oh, please, please, do some magic, Annie, please, dear sister, sweet sister, you have to!"

It was a dream she harbored in the deepest and most secretive part of her, to be a great sorceress and discover new lands, just like the Frontiersmen. Oh, how she would give anything in the world! Such is the naivety of children, no matter how bright and precocious they may be.

"Fine! But you must stay here, while I get something." Annabelle walked out of the study, her mind racing. The shaman in the book had used a type of moss that glowed, but there were no caves within walking distance. She doubted that her father would appreciate her going off on a three days' journey just to procure some. The book mentioned moss, but she had none. She would have to improvise, and she thought of what she would need. The moss was used as a sympathetic connection to the desired effect. Well, she thought, there were fireflies that hung about near the pond, though the season was a bit early. That woul have to do.

Annabelle tramped along the fields, her feet becoming muddy with dirt, until finally she came upon the Lindenbrook, and from there, the Millpond. There she found a few lonesome fireflies flitting about over the water's edge. She approached cautiously, not wanting scare them away. With a quiet deftness, she caught a firefly, cupped between her two hands. Annabelle raced home.

Inside the study, she found Sunny eating corn bread and pork pies. He smiled when his sister entered. Gracia was on the ground, playing with a ball, which she threw endlessly at the shelves. Sighing, Annabelle maneuvered her arms around her sister and picked her up, careful to keep her hands cupped. She set Gracia on the table and gave her brother an especially wicked glare.

"You want some?" Sunny said, his mouth full. "Maddie came by with supper!"

Shaking her head with disgust, she brought out her cupped hands.

"I thought you wanted to see some magic!"

"Oh yes! I would very much like that!"

"Be quiet! I need to concentrate." Annabelle refreshed her memory of the spell. First, the shaman had taken the moss in between his fingers. Then, he had spoken the words. Finally, he had crushed the moss between his fingers--

Annabelle finally realized what she had to do, and she was a little bit taken aback. She recovered quickly however. The sorcery must come before physical comfort, she told herself. Steeling her nerves, she rehearsed in her mind the incantation, having memorized it earlier. The room hushed, and even Gracia looked expectantly at her sister. In Annabelle's imagination, power crackled in the air in anticipation.

Taking the firefly in her fingers, Annabelle spoke. "Veroi ijios hagas argia, dhiob solas amn." No mistake with the incantation, she noted with relief. With nary a pause, she crushed the firefly between her thumb and forefinger.

Sunny's wide eyes looked up expectantly at her sister. Flustered, Annabelle repeated the incantation, but she was sure that time she had flubbed a syllable that time.

"Well," Annabelle said slowly, after a long pause where nothing happened, "I guess I must not have done something right. Sorcery is a very tricky business. You have to know what you're doing." Annabelle wiped her hands on a cloth.

"Oh. I guess that makes sense. Do you want to go riding?"

"It's past dusk you silly boy! Mum would never allow it!"

"Hmph!" Sunny flounced off, leaving behind his dirty plates. Gracia cooed at Annabelle, and the older girl picked up her sister and brought her to her busom. She held her sister tightly, and her sister replied with a wordless murmur.

"I'm quite alright, dear sister," Annabelle said, her voice breaking at the last word. "Sorcery is a tricky business, after all. You can study for years and find that you don't have the aptitude for it. Quite alright."

That day, in her heart of hearts, Annabelle knew she would never cast a spell in her life.

[Daos]

“You know something? Had you told me ten years ago I was going to be a paladin lord of a stronghold castle, I would have thought you were out of your mind. Of course, I didn’t know you ten years ago..,” Rhian said to his squire.

“Yes, sir,” the squire replied automatically.

“I mean, sometimes I just stop and think about it. And it really boggles my mind. Do you know I met a dragon once?”

“So you’ve told us, sir,” the squire replied. He respectfully left off the ‘many, many times’ at the end of the sentence.

“Oh, right,” Rhian said. He looked around the courtyard of Castle Trueblade. There was a squad of initiate paladins training swordplay off to the right. He watched them a moment, then as if snapping out of some reverie, shook his head. “That’ll be all for now.”

The squire saluted and walked off. Frowning, Rhian headed inside the castle toward his study. He never actually used it to study. The books on the shelves were gathering dust—or would be, if the servants allowed it. But he did often go there to think or to be alone.

He was worried about Desiree.

The stories always told of the dashing young knight rescuing the fair damsel, marrying her, and living happily ever after with her. Although Rhian was hardly dashing and Desiree really wound up saving him, not the other way around, he still assumed the stories would be true nonetheless. But that was not the case. Rhian was quite pleased with married life, but Desiree was stifled by it. Even after ten years, they have not had any children. Although he had no proof, Rhian had come to suspect Desiree was using some kind of magic to ensure that.

A child, after all, would only tie her down further.

He entered his study and stepped over to the window, looking down into the courtyard again. He had built quite a life for the two of them. He was lord of this castle and was in charge of training paladins to help protect the nation from evil. And it was quite clear Desiree enjoyed the wealth and prestige that came with this life. She often received requests to play from all over the country. And she would jump at any chance to do so.

Rhian always tried to make sure he had time for her, but lately…it seemed like everything he said or did only made things worse. Currently, Desiree was away visiting her family again. She did this often nowadays.

No, things were not like the old stories at all.

“Penny for your thoughts?” a woman’s voice asked.

Rhian whirled around, surprised. A woman stood inside his study, the door closed behind her, wearing thick black robes. Her face was concealed by the cowl. Rhian had not heard her entered, much less shut the door behind her.

Without a thought, Rhian extended his senses toward her, attempting to detect any evil in the woman’s heart. Finding none, he relaxed slightly. “Who are you? Who let you in here?” he asked.

“So formal,” she responded slyly. “Who would have ever thought you were once such a bumbling hillbilly?” The woman took a step forward, wavered, and stumbled to the ground.

Quickly, Rhian rushed to aid her. “Ma’am, are you all right?”

“Don’t call me ‘ma’am,’” she said weakly. “I’m not nearly old enough.” Her cowl fell away, revealing her tanned skin and sharp features.

Rhian felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of very cold water on him. “Sable? H-How? You vanished years ago. You stopped answering my letters. Where have you been?”

“Preparing,” she said, touching him lightly on his cheek. “I need your help.”

Helping her to her feet, Rhian pulled out a chair for her to sit in. “What is it?”

“After you drove Kassaroff out of me…some nights I would dream. I think he left a little bit of his mind within me. Just fragments; memories and random thoughts. They came to me when I slept. I left to learn more. To try and get my magic back. I know what he was planning, Rhian.”

Rhian shook his head. “He’s dead now, it no longer matters.”

“Not dead. His mortal body perished, but he returned to where he came. It will take time, but he will return one day. We must be ready for that day. Because next time, he doesn’t plan to come alone,” she said.

[Daos]

Akhil jumped awake, covered in a cold sweat. It was the dead of night, and he slowly realized he had had another nightmare. Quietly getting up, he slipped on his robe and stepped outside. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and tried to gather his thoughts.

He felt a presence behind him, and knew it was only his wife. Although stealthy enough to ambush even the best of thieves, she still made enough noise to alert Akhil’s heightened senses. “Moon Eyes, go back to bed,” he said softly.

The woman did not listen, as she rarely did. “You had another nightmare, husband?” she asked simply.

“It doesn’t matter,” Akhil replied.

“But it does. You have not had the nightmares since before we met. And now you’ve had them every night the past week,” she pointed out. “What does this mean?”

Akhil shook his head and turned to face her. “Desiree taught me to control the beast within…but I feel it pacing inside me, like a caged animal. It is trying to warn me. Something is coming. The beast is aware of this, and it longs for battle.”

Moon Eyes nodded. “I have seen signs of this in the wind and in the stars. War is coming and it shall sweep over us all.”

Akhil frowned. Ten years ago, he would have relished the idea. But now, he had a family. His daughter, Nalini, was only four years old. “I don’t know if I can fight again,” he admitted. “Our people have been through enough as it is.”

“Your people are warriors, as are you, my love,” Moon Eyes said. She was not of this tribe, but she had spent enough time among them to know this much. “You can fight to protect what you have built, can you not?”

Akhil grunted. She was right. He had spent the last decade ignoring the beast, trying to become civilized in an uncivilized world. He had grown soft, as had his people. That would change. He would see to it that when war came, they would be ready.

The beast within purred. It was pleased.