SAD3

The monolith was actually nothing of the sort. At its birth it was just a building. None would describe it differently now at first glance. To see it as a monolith is more an affectionate allusion to the life it led. Pieced together from undistinguished stone and wood, the building was more a testament to its architect's prowess than an attempt to achieve the immortality it has enjoyed. All the same, it stands solemn and silent, stretching tall through time as a uniform presence bearing its history plainly across the face of timeless surfaces.

The lives and culture which surrounded it inevitably tie their significance to its presence. Where once we might have noted its inclusion with passing indifference, we now count ourselves lucky to live and struggle tied to its presence. This is what makes the building a monolith. Not its stark reality, but the metaphor of what it has come to mean; an unlikely hero standing firm through the ages while life, love, ambition and death ignite and dissipate under its passive gaze.

How foolish we were to ignore it in bygone days. We missed its significance entirely. Only after time proved the true nature of this menhir did we deign to recognize the axiom. This monolith defines us.

SAD2

Ensign Miller was a large man. He was the kind of man who knew how big he was. He celebrated it. He flaunted it. His entire persona revolved around it.

He wore clothes to accentuate his size. Tight shirts and pants worn a little lower than the designer meant were carefully choreographed to project the image of his towering form. His clothing preferences worked well. Nobody who stood in the presence of Ensign Miller doubted that he was significant. He was not to be trifled with. His strength was a vast unknown.

He was the kind of man Scout Thompson would have reviled normally. On any other day, Thompson would have gazed out of his booth and judged Ensign Miller with the sharp wit of what could only be described as jealousy. His brazen presence was an affront to every other male seeking respect, power, or romance within eyesight. Although everyone instinctively pandered to the ensign, nobody cared for him.

At this moment, however, even Scout Thompson was glad for every single defining feature of Ensign Miller as warm thoughts of allegiance and thankfulness reassured them all that their gigantic, muscular friend was certainly more than enough to keep that door sealed shut.

Oh how much that door needed to stay sealed shut.

SAD1

I don't know why I remember her face. That look of jumbled resignation and anxiety seemed to reach out from the blurry confusion of the moment. When I think about it, I can't even begin to explain the strangeness of the connection we made. It was as though we shared a lengthy conversation about the moment and its consequences through an impossibly unlikely glance. Why wasn't I focused on the car, or the road, or the lights? Was it instinct directing my eyes? Was there some deeper explanation? It still haunts me.

Perhaps I could have unraveled the mystery if I weren't late for work. Maybe it wouldn't bother me so much if I had felt as thought there were time to stop and get involved. But I was late for work. That's why I drove so fast in the rain. That's why I pushed my way through the passing lane for eight miles longer than was legal.

My supervisor was already unhappy with me, I couldn't afford another black mark on my record. It's not that I really care what he thinks of me, but I need the job. It is a matter of simple fact that I cannot risk being written up again. I already know I'd be the first to go if there were any excuse to lay a person off on my team. I have enough on my plate trying to work back into the good graces of my superiors without adding another mistake to the mountain of bad decisions that have placed me in this precarious position. My dependability was the only trait keeping me employed. I wasn't about to let rain or traffic steal that away as well.

Trying to make up time on the road is always a frustrating battle, though - especially when the weather is less than ideal. My own law-bending aside, I can't believe how many people don't seem to understand the simplest rules of the road. I can hardly feel guilty about my position either. There wasn't anyone behind me. It's not like I was impeding progress like she was. Of course I tailgated her. What business does anyone have driving five under in the passing lane. It boggles the mind.

She wasn't exactly polite about it. We played the typical games. She slowed down to punish me, then sped up and slammed on her brakes when I closed the gap again. As if she was entitled to blocking any lane she chose with her oversized sport utility. Flashing my brights did little to motivate her. She wanted to get around the semi, I can understand that. Why wouldn't she just speed up and get it over with, though?

Minutes passed with excruciating slowness while I waited for her to ease past, miles disappearing with the effort while I watched the clock speed toward another unpleasant conversation with my boss. I couldn't push this too hard with the rain pelting down on us. I could barely see out of my windshield through the bleary streaks left by my old wipers, left too long unreplaced. Obviously I was pushing enough though. About halfway past the trailer, she seemed to finally get the hint and felt sufficient discomfort to move a little more quickly toward her end goal.

I sensed escape was near and sped up, pulling wide to the left and thinking I might speed through the gap as she slowly switched lanes. I didn't see the little smart car struggling through the mist of traffic in front of the semi. She didn't either.

As the woman changed lanes, a horn blared out and she over-corrected upon catching sight of the man in the little car she almost crushed. I lifted my foot off the gas as I saw her front end swing back to my lane, but she lost control on the thin sheet of water running between the lanes. The rear of her vehicle kicked out and she slammed on the brakes faster than the semi could accommodate. A loud crunch signaled their collision and the force of it sent her into a spin.

I found my brakes and thought how strange it was that her sport utility didn't flip over like it seemed it should. She spun around in front of my car until the side of hers found the concrete divider protecting the center of the interstate. It was as she passed in front of me, in a moment which should have been filled with panic, that I caught sight of her face. Her day was ruined, she told me. Why was I being so pushy? She could have been safe. I don't know what my face conveyed. It didn't matter, though, because my actions spoke louder than my looks. After a hard brake and a quick turn, I squeezed past the wreck and found the open road I was looking for.

I should have stopped. I just couldn't afford to be late for work.

C10(3) "The..."

"The Hatred Tribunal"
(WC 2185)

-[ ]-

Months passed and Chulon fell into a routine. He rarely thought about his duty to the southern kingdoms any more, so deeply had he repressed his true identity. Outwardly, he acted every bit like a true believer in the Nhymiggai cause. It was a fine line he walked, twisting his disgust and hatred for the Nhimyggai into an apparent hatred toward the southern kingdoms.
Dremmech had relentlessly examined the minds of all his followers, keeping a sharp eye on them at all times. It was obvious he trusted nobody. As the time passed, his army grew, filling out with more and more eager recruits. Some were from other clans, but Chulon noted that Lom did not question or prevent their addition to the ranks of the Nhimyggai. Those who possessed knowledge of magic were more highly valued than the rest, and were promoted accordingly. Chulon exhibited no magical ability to his superiors, not wanting to rise in the ranks or appear as anything other than mundane now. Dremmech was descriptive enough of the Nhimyggai plans to eventually bring him all the information he would need. The only movement within the ranks Chulon did attempt was to ingratiate himself to Dremmech in the hope of attaining information more quickly.
He had come to fear and respect the power of the Nhimyggai as time passed. Though their magical abilities were questionable and obviously no match for the power of Dour Gujhest, he started to recognize a different power within their ranks. It was a festering sort of persuasion that seeped outward from their very presence. They were hidden and insidious, an aspect which might just grant them enough of an edge to seriously damage the order of the southern kingdoms. Little by little, Chulon was becoming a believer, but not for the sake of hope – for the sake of despair.
He began to wonder if simply bringing warning to the Ortakij would be enough. It would be difficult enough to secure their belief about a hidden source of power like the Nhimyggai. Chulon also recognized an arrogance in himself which would hinder any real preparation against the threat of the Nhimyggai. Once he revealed the Nhimyggai, there would still remain an overconfidence in the southern kingdoms – an unwillingness to believe there could be any power they may need to fear. The Ortakij had been burned by such arrogance before, the loss of Celeukra was a testament to this. Perhaps it was the Nhimyggai who has orchestrated that assault as well. But history would be no teacher here, the Ortakij believed themselves to have prevailed against the might of the northern tribes. They were vigilant, but unshaken.
The Nhimyggai respected the southern kingdoms, if nothing else. They understood the power of their enemy and it inspired them to leverage every ounce of cunning and strategy they possessed. Chulon thought it best to wait for an opportunity to not simply reveal the Nhimyggai and their plans, but to expose them in a moment of true power so the southern kingdoms would be able to see and understand the truth of their enemy.
Revealing Nhimyggai power would be a difficult task. As much as Chulon had come to respect the mysterious group during his involvement, there were very few examples of their ability he could directly point to. Theirs was mostly a campaign of propaganda and endless meetings. Over and over again, the recruits were hounded by Dremmech with generic messages of impending triumph. With every meeting Chulon felt a little more despair creep in. Every time they gathered to speak together about the inevitable triumph of the Nhimyggai, Chulon believed it a little more. He felt the weight of their philosophy enveloping his mind. It was suffocating, filled with a power and presence he had not experienced before. He searched out their words for the taint of magic, thinking they were casting some sort of spell on their audience, but he could find no hint of it. They were leveraging a power he had not experienced before, yet Chulon could not spare the honesty to contemplate it. Revealing his inmost thoughts would be too dangerous. So he took it all in instead, slowly sinking into despair as he came closer to Dremmech.
This routine was interrupted, though, when Dremmech announced a special induction to a secret meeting of the higher powers within the ranks of the Nhimyggai. There was another tier as Chulon had suspected and he was interested to discover who the players would be at this level. As part of their training and preparation for the war ahead, they were to learn new details about the grand plan of the Nhimyggai. Ponyeth assured them war was close at hand.
This new meeting was an enormous gathering, led by Tiernanuu himself. Though Chulon was extremely interested in discovering all he could about this new player, he could also feel a tinge of danger the minute he joined the assembly, as though the power of Tiernanuu's presence were a heat which singed him as he approached. He sensed this new player was far more potent a threat than the creeping presence of Dremmech. They would all be allowed to speak with Tiernanuu, Ponyeth assured him, it was the final step in their training and preparation.
“The Southern Kingdoms have made an error,” Tiernanuu began the meeting with a jubilant tone, “and our time of victory is at hand.”
Everyone fell silent in anticipation, wondering what mistake the great enemy might have made.
“For centuries, the three lands of Akij have been held together by the strength of their greatest bond. They respect each other. They hold each other up. They provide support and aid in times of trial. When the tribes of the north came together against the Ortakij with the biggest display of power this island has ever witnessed, the potency of their attack was dulled by this very bond. We took back Celeukra, we pushed their border south, yet the Ortakij were bolstered anew when the Jaltikij donated supplies and lands to the Ortakij. They were refreshed when the Sinzakij sent their own armies to the new border to support their patrols and build a new bulwark. We spent our collective resources, drained ourselves in the effort, and they were rejuvenated almost immediately. They recovered before we could lick our wounds and forced us to resort to trickery to stave off their recourse.
“The Hatred Tribunal, they called it, when we came together at last because we were united by our hatred for their kingdoms. They laugh at us now, emboldened by their eventual victory. They forget the sting of our fury. They mock our hatred as though it were a weak bond, unable to stand against the might of their mutual respect and admiration. We have learned to respect the power of their bond. We do not respect it because it is superior; we do not respect it because it is unbreakable; we do not respect it because we desire it. We respect it because we understand it and we understand our need to defeat it before we can at last be rid of their tyranny. This island belongs to us! It is ours not theirs! It is our birthright!”
The assembly leaped to its feet in thunderous approval, shouting their agreement in a cacophony of noise which inspired a smile from Tiernanuu.
“For years we have sown dissent amongst them, capitalizing on their differences. The Jaltikij hate the mages, the Sinzakij hate the priests, the Ortakij... the Ortakij are the key.” Tiernanuu paused thoughtfully. “The Ortakij believe in an ancient prophecy. They believe their king is the true king of the island and their lust for this prophecy's fulfillment makes them the most vulnerable. For centuries they have stood proudly against the armies of the northlands, fighting zealously for the hope of crushing our clans. Their dream is to unite the northlands so they can unite the southlands. They see this island as one kingdom – their kingdom, ruled by their king. The Jaltikij and Sinzakij rely on the might of the Ortakij armies to protect them from our attacks. They hide behind their brother kingdom, enjoying a life as free of war and strife as if we did not even exist. They have grown weak and soft, and the Ortakij know it. The Ortakij rely on the weakness of their neighbors, they trust in it. They know their kingdom is the only one with enough power to subjugate the entire island. They know once they conquer Vechtazul it will be a trifling matter to overcome the borders that separate their three lands. The Ortakij are filled with vision. But it is this very vision which will be their downfall!”
More cheering followed. Chulon joined in with every ounce of exuberance he could muster. Somewhere deep in his heart, though he knew no Ortakij soldier would ever admit it, there was a desire present to see the whole of the island united. Tiernanuu, though twisted in his vision, was not far from the truth with his words.
“Our spies have learned of a secret pact between the Jaltikij and Sinzakij, an agreement between their kings. The Ortakij have no knowledge of what is coming, but we will be prepared. We will use this pact to our advantage, opening the door to victory. Even now the leaders of the clans are gathering together to plan strategies. A sort of... new hatred tribunal. Dihloch has created a master plan which will tear the southern kingdoms apart. Their bond of strength will at last be broken and then, when the time is right, we will strike! We will pierce a hole through their hearts so deeply the names of the Akij will become a curse to our sons and grandsons.”
Chulon shuddered at the mention of Dihloch. He knew that name. Somewhere in the recesses of his memory recognition was sparked. He could not place his finger on it, though. Where had he heard that name before? It was not good, he remembered that much.
The meeting had ended and Tiernanuu was working his way through the crowds of recruits, touching their hands, looking into their eyes. Chulon was consumed with trying to pinpoint where he had heard Dihloch's name before. He pushed those thoughts down, trying to regain his composure as Tiernanuu approached. He needed to regain control, he had to find his starting point. He had to settle his mind. He could feel waves of deception coursing through him, and he shuddered at how suddenly and obviously he was out of place in this assembly. He needed to calm himself to subdue this distraction, but he knew the quiet he needed to regain his composure would give him away as surely as the doubts and fears overtaking him now. Tiernanuu still approached, looking into the eyes of the men around him. Chulon could not shirk or step away from this moment. He must stand his ground or lose his place in the Nhimyggai and perhaps his life as well.
He could feel Tiernanuu working his way through him, feel the presence of his inquiry before the man ever turned to look in his eyes. The situation was desperate now as the Nhimyggai's hold began to close around him, searching out his mind. Chulon was sinking fast. He had lost track of his focus, his training in the physical stream of power was failing him in this moment. He grasped reluctantly at the last option before him, forced to open floodgates kept diligently sealed since he walked away from Dour Gujhest so many years before. As Tiernanuu turned his gaze toward Chulon and grasped hold of his hand, Chulon dove mindfirst again into the stream of magical power, calling upon his training in the magic of presence to subdue and mask his innermost thoughts. His eyes met Tiernanuu's with confidence at last in that final moment. He was a Nhimyggai, nothing else. There was nothing concerning about Chulon's presence in this Nhimyggai assembly.
Chulon was amazed at how quickly his magical power came back to him. Like an old hand, he deftly wove magical deception all around himself, hiding away any hint of truth from Tiernanuu's insightful gaze. He could feel the power of the Nhimyggai seeking him out, but it was no match for the strength of his magical ability. He easily deflected and absorbed all inquiries, sliding through the moment with ease.
Tiernanuu paused, nevertheless, looking again at Chulon with interest. The magic so suddenly called upon was noticeable to the Nhimyggai. He could not pinpoint what Chulon was doing, but he knew with certainty that this man possessed strong magics. It aroused Tiernanuu's interest and he noted that he should speak with Dremmech later about Chulon, to find out what uses had been found for him.
As Tiernanuu moved away, Chulon let go of his enchantment, feeling the draining effect of magic, magnified by his lack of practice. He shuddered again, knowing this brief relapse into magic would cost him dearly in the days ahead.

C10(2) "The..."

"The Hatred Tribunal"
(WC 966)

-[ ]-

After agreeing to the demands of the Nhimyggai, Chulon was instructed to leave the armies of Lom and find a home in a nearby settlement. The warmasters he had formerly served did not question his leaving or raise issue with it. They were apparently familiar with such changes and knew better than to cause any dissention. Everyone he had formerly made acquaintance with seemed to act like he no longer existed.
This new life pressed upon him by the mysterious Nhimyggai was far more dangerous. Chulon spent his nights deep in meditation, focusing on the task of bending his mind so that his thoughts would not give him away. He began to see Nhimyggai where formerly he had only seen peaceful settlers. His instructions were to make a home, act settled and pursue mundane daily activities while he awaited instructions.
The simplicity of his new routine was frequently punctuated by secretive meetings where he and others were indoctrinated in the beliefs and ideals of the Nhimyggai. He learned his immediate superior was a young man named Ponyeth, who seemed little more than a boy to Chulon. He could sense magical ability in him, though, reckless and unbridled. Chulon imagined Ponyeth's ability was likely also largely untrained and unfocused. Apparently a connection to the stream of magical power was prized by the Nhimyggai, making it a reason for the promotion of its followers. Above Ponyeth was a darker man named Dremmech, who usually led their meetings and spoke vehemently against the southern kingdoms.
Dremmech also spoke of another superior named Tiernanuu, but Chulon had yet to meet this one. He wondered how many ranks the Nhimyggai has divided themselves into. It swiftly became apparent that his group, under Dremmech was wholly comprised of people who were local to the area where Chulon had been instructed to settle. He began to see Nhimyggai in places he had not formerly guessed to look. Their identity was obvious to him now, they were the members of any tribe who lived lives completely detached from the tribe's concerns. Ponyeth had told him early on to ignore the commands of the tribe of Lom. He was not a part of the tribe any longer. He was now a part of something much larger, something much more important.
Chulon was not yet sure how much magical ability the Nhimyggai held, he could not find opportunity to test it. As a whole, the group was very secretive and paranoid. They worked hard to remain unseen and unsuspected. Dremmech spoke about the necessity of this often. New recruits like Chulon were told over and over again to hide their allegiance to the Nhimyggai. They were never to speak of it. The mages of the south were always watching, he said, and Chulon later found it amusing just how true this was.
One thing was very apparent, though, it would take a lot of time for Chulon to gather the kind of information he needed. In the quiet moments, he wondered just how much time it would take. Dremmech's speeches were militant, focused on actions against the southlands. He spoke often about an upcoming campaign against Dour Gujhest. Chulon was recruited to fill out the ranks of Dremmech's army, which was being amassed for some form of offensive strike.
To single out Dour Gujhest was a bold maneuver. Chulon was immediately struck by the foolishness of such a plan. To begin with, the Nhimyggai would have to break through the vast defenses of the Ortakij kingdom. They would be faced with the power of Dour Gujhest long before they even reached the Sinzakij borders. Simply getting to Dour Gujhest would be an incredible feat, but once they were there, they would have to contend with the trained and focused power of an entire kingdom of mages.
Chulon knew from experience Dour Gujhest was well fortified. The White Council was ready and able to defend itself against an attack from these Nhimyggai. He began to wonder if the taste of magical ability had driven the Nhimyggai leadership mad. Yet, he knew it would be foolish to assume the failure of the Nhimyggai before he fully understood their capabilities. He was reminded of his battle with Ethegra. Once a friend, and one of the most powerful and solid mages he had ever known, Chulon could scarcely believe Ethegra had fallen to such temptation. If the Nhimyggai were behind Ethegra's conversion, perhaps there was something to their bold strategy after all. Did they intend to turn an entire kingdom of mages into demons?

-[ ]-

Months passed and Chulon fell into a routine. He rarely thought about his duty to the southern kingdoms any more, so deeply had he repressed his true identity. Outwardly, he acted every bit like a true believer in the Nhymiggai cause. It was a fine line he walked, twisting his disgust and hatred for the Nhimyggai into an apparent hatred toward the southern kingdoms.
Dremmech had relentlessly examined the minds of all his followers, keeping a sharp eye on them at all times. It was obvious he trusted nobody. As the time passed, his army grew, filling out with more and more eager recruits. Some were from other clans, but Chulon noted that Lom did not question or prevent their addition to the ranks of the Nhimyggai. Chulon exhibited no magical ability to his superiors, not wanting to rise in the ranks or appear as anything other than mundane now. Dremmech was descriptive enough of the Nhimyggai plans to eventually bring him all the information he would need. He had come to fear and respect the power of the Nhimyggai as time passed. The danger of his position was constant and pressing, so he did not wish to test his luck by attempting to gain recognition.

C10(1) "The..."

"The Hatred Tribunal"
(WC 1753)

It was a day like any other for Chulon. Lom's warlord had his people gearing up for another battle along their northeastern border. Gulala had made some headway into Lom's holdings there, supplanting their losses along the southeastern portion of the border where Lom had been pushing hard for the past few months. Confident they could maintain their new holdings to the south, the tribe of Lom was hurriedly rushing to the north to quell the advances made by their enemy.
Chulon had yet to see any familiar faces from the tribe of Gulala and though he consoled himself with the reminder that they were all his enemies, he found it a relief not to have to look into the face of any he had formerly pretended were friends.
The shift to the north would be advantageous to Chulon, moving him closer to the tribes of Kier-Ree-Tan so he could make a clean departure from the ranks of Lom's armies. Working his way into the inner circles of the tribe had the unfortunate side effect of making him famous amongst the warriors of Lom. Almost everywhere he traveled now he was recognized and hailed as a hero of the tribe. Though Chulon valued his access to the secret plans of the tribe, his fame made it more difficult for him to move freely now that he wanted to abandon this tribe in favor of another.
He had begun to wonder if his renown would translate into a reputation as a traitor. Perhaps moving from clan to clan had been the trait which had revealed other Ortakij scouts and allowed the clans to weed them out. This did not seem likely, though, because no apparent communication occurred between the clans in any form.
They did not make it to the front lines of the battlefield to the north, though. They were very close when an order from Lom came down through the ranks suddenly. They were to stop and wait. There was no explanation for this abrupt change in strategy and no apparent reason why it would be necessary. But no reason was needed for an order from the leader of the tribe. When he said stop, they would stop.
Chulon wondered if perhaps Gulala had been able to push back along the southern border, causing the warlord to reconsider his aggressive strategies. It seemed unlikely they would be told to simply stop if this were the case. If the warlord were truly concerned about an advance like that, he would have called for them to move back south or press their attacks more quickly. He wouldn't have told them to just stop and wait. Chulon felt there must be something else at work now. In all of his time with the tribes of Gulala and Lom he had never witnessed an action like this.
The army, unsure of what to do next, set about the process of making camp while they waited. Chulon busied himself with this task as well, inwardly hoping they would soon continue northward so he could make his escape from this group. He thought it best to feign his own death on the battlefield. It would raise the fewest questions. Tribal armies did not bother to check the dead or search for wounded. Any who were too damaged to return to camp of their own accord were left where they lay and no more concern was spared for their lives. A clean break like that would shield him from any of the potential difficulties Chulon had worried about.
The army had sat dormant in camp for two days before something happened. Chulon had plenty of time to worry about what might come next. After this time had passed a new group arrived in their camp. This group was strange to Chulon, the fact that they were so well-dressed was the first thing which struck him as very different. They had an air of importance about them and the warriors of Lom's armies gave them wide berth, shrinking back in their presence as though very afraid. This group was obviously of great importance, although Chulon did not recognize any of its members.
After making an initial inspection of the camp, the group settled into one of the tents which had been set up and began calling for warriors to come speak with them. Whispers began to circle through the camp about this strange intrusion. Chulon soon caught the name “Nhimyggai” being whispered repeatedly. He felt his hopes rise sharply. At last he was hearing some confirmation of what Pinmey had told him at Hearkendale. Were the Nhimyggai real? Chulon decided to take this opportunity to find out.
He asked around amongst a few of Lom's warriors, trying to see what they meant. But when he inquired about the Nhimyggai, he was universally met with silence. These men were genuinely afraid of this group. They constantly cast furtive glances in the direction of the tent taken over by the supposed Nhimyggai. He began to think he would get nothing other than blank looks and fear-filled glances when Chulon was called up by his superiors to go to the tent and stand before the Nhimyggai.
He wondered quickly what he should say to win their favor. If the Nhimyggai were all Pinmey had said they were, then Chulon wanted nothing more than to work his way into their ranks. He had begun to question the legitimacy of Pinmey's claims in his time in the north. For as long as he had been there, he had heard no mention of this mysterious group from anyone. Not even a vague whisper about it. Their sudden appearance here was stunning, almost unbelievable. They were like ghosts.
He stepped into the Nhimyggai tent.
“Welcome warrior.”
Seated before Chulon, the group had formed a circle. They all sat stoically, with no visible movement between the eight of them. Dressed as they were, Chulon found it difficult to determine which one had spoken as he entered. They were hidden behind rich, dark garb which covered them completely. Hoods hid their faces from his view, allowing him no cues to what the group was thinking. Wanting to avoid any awkwardness, Chulon seated himself immediately just inside the entry to the tent and looked forward expectantly, wondering what would happen next.
“We have heard you asking questions about our presence here.”
It was a statement, followed by a long pause. Chulon wondered if they expected him to answer. As the silence stretched on, he decided it best to do so.
“I have heard the name Nhimyggai before, but did not know if it was a name for myth or fact. I was simply curious if anyone else knew anything about this name.”
More silence. Not a single figure in the circle moved. Chulon calmed his spirit, focusing on his posture instead of the bizarre spectacle before him. Finally, they spoke again.
“The Nhimyggai are fact. The Nhimyggai are building an army. The Nhimyggai will destroy the Southern Kingdoms.”
Chulon felt it now. It was a sneaking suspicion when he entered the tent, but now he could feel the full force of it weighing against his mind: magic. Despite his long absence from life as a mage, he could still feel the pulse of magic as clearly as when he had practiced it. This group definitely had some magical ability. How much and how strong, he could not say without delving into a temptation he had sworn he would never again entertain. But he knew they were probing him with their arts, seeking something out, probably in his mind. Chulon stifled this realization and focused more intently on his posture. He caressed feelings of belonging and a hatred in his mind. He knew his facade would be discovered if he pushed his mind too far into the unfamiliar and offensive territory of hatred toward his own homeland, so he focused instead on a vague and generalized hatred, building on his own disdain for the tribes to fill his mind with dissatisfaction.
It was a dangerous game Chulon was playing, and somewhere deep inside of himself, he knew the risks. But he could not spare a conscious consideration for this fact. Both heart and mind were bent now under the will of the Nhimyggai and he brewed appropriate thoughts beneath his outward focus on his posture. The perfection and concentration he had learned through Laethecna aided him in this. It stemmed from his own being in a natural way, despite the lies he was trying to perpetrate. It was enough to quell the oppressive feeling of their magic. They must have been satisfied with what they found in Chulon's mind.
“What do the Nhimyggai desire of me?”
“Life, allegiance and obedience. You will fight for the Nhimyggai.”
It sounded like a question, but it was not. Chulon was being instructed by this strange group. He was expected to become a part of their group. There would be no denying their request, but Chulon had no desire to do so. He stood out amongst the warriors of Lom, he had no doubt this had sparked the Nhimyggai's interest in him. Now the wanted him. This was exactly what he wanted.
It was only a matter of time now before Chulon was able to discover what capabilities this mysterious group possessed. Pinmey had been correct, and Chulon was glad he had followed the monk's directions. The Nhimyggai were indeed powerful, but he could not yet say just how powerful they might be. If ever there were a serious threat to the Southern Kingdoms, Chulon knew he was joining its ranks. The fact that the Nhimyggai had been audacious enough to attempt to scan his thoughts proved to him they possessed serious magical abilities. Were they strong enough to challenge Dour Gujhest? Was their army big enough to take on the vast resources of the Ortakij? These questions needed to be answered before he attempted to return to Katarine.
Chulon was impressed that the Nhimyggai had been so successful at hiding themselves amongst the clans of the northlands. How did they accomplish this feat? It appeared fear and intimidation were a large portion of their strategy. The other Ortakij scouts must have been discovered by these Nhimyggai. Staying hidden from the Southern Kingdoms' view was obviously very important to this group. Chulon knew he would have to tread carefully if he intended to deliver a warning to his home in time.

C9 "The Lesser..."

"The Lesser Gods"
(WC 2039)

Delyth had not traveled far from Dour Gujhest when, with a pointed smile, she stopped abruptly and sat down. Phillip stopped as well, hoping to stay hidden off to the side of the road and a good distance behind her. Though it felt strange to be stalking this woman, his orders from the White Council were clear. It became obvious, however, that his presence was not as unnoticed as he had hoped. Delyth was staring directly at him, apparently waiting for Phillip to reveal himself. He wondered if this was simply a coincidence, if perhaps she had not seen him but was merely looking in his direction, but a raised eyebrow followed by a motion for him to come over to where she was sitting removed those doubts from his mind. Despite his great care in remaining hidden, she had somehow spotted his presence. Phillip felt embarrassed as he stepped out and walked toward her.
“Why are you following me?” She called out to him as he came close.
Phillip wondered what kind of explanation he could possibly give for his actions. Although his training told him to invent a reason and hide his true purpose for being there, his heart told him to simply be honest.
“It is my duty to learn how you were able to defeat a demon.” He looked into her eyes, hoping to convey some sense of trustworthiness. To his surprise, as she held his gaze she did not look concerned, timid or frightened by his presence. There was a distinct sense of curiosity behind her eyes, as though simply holding his gaze would tell her more than he was saying. Phillip didn't mind. He was suddenly struck by the simple beauty of Delyth's eyes and found it difficult to look away.
So enraptured was he, her next question went almost unnoticed. But then he realized she had been speaking and he broke her gaze suddenly, blushing like a young man and feeling uncomfortable with himself.
“Why do you think I defeated the demon? I simply said the demon does not exist.” Delyth cocked her head to the side and tried to meet Phillip's gaze once again. Embarrassed afresh, Phillip avoided her stare although those eyes felt like gravity wells drawing him in. He took a deep breath and mentally chastised himself for being so unexpectedly foolish and juvenile in her presence. Having regained a measure of his composure, Phillip pondered her response briefly.
“I suppose knowing the nature of a demon tells me you would not have survived unless you fought for and won your freedom.” Phillip was staring at the ground now, coldly suppressing both emotion and instinct in response to the feelings that her gaze had awakened within him.
Delyth sighed lightly and placed one of her hands gently on Phillip's downturned head in a consoling fashion. “I think you have assumed too much.”
He was struck by the clarity of this statement. He felt justified in his assumptions because they were shared by the White Council, as though communal consent created truth. If he removed those assumptions completely, though, what would remain? There was still an unanswered mystery. He knew Delyth had been stolen away from the town of Hearkendale, many witnesses confirmed it. He knew Delyth had survived, she was sitting in front of him now. He knew the demon which attacked Hearkendale had disappeared completely, he could find no evidence of it to track or follow. What did these three facts actually mean? Either Delyth was lying to him, or he was missing something.
“How did you survive the demon attack?” Phillip asked at length, looking up into her eyes once again.
She grabbed his gaze as he looked up, staring at him in a colder and more serious way now.
“I already told you I would not talk about it.” She replied bluntly and with a tinge of annoyance.
Phillip held her gaze defiantly, though, determined to fulfill his duty to the White Council. “I am sorry for my rudeness in following you and spying on you like I have. But you must understand, I cannot leave you until I answer this question. I am sworn to serve the White Council, so I must not fail.”
Delyth looked away toward the horizon. The day was waning, though evening was still hours away. Her hair was caught in the breeze, flitting around her face. Phillip was now struck again by her beauty. He admired her hair especially, intrigued by its color, and wondering whether he had ever seen such a vibrant shade of red before. She looked so vulnerable now, sitting there and contemplating the determination of his quest. Phillip thought he had been too harsh just now, pitting himself against her desire to leave the past in the past. He returned to chiding himself, feeling suddenly guilty about his treatment of a grieving widow. Her poise and grace made it easy to forget all she had been through, but remembering now, Phillip felt horrible about his behavior.
“Your White Council is dogged and insistent...” Delyth said finally, “...and inconsiderate and cruel. Do you have no creativity? Or must you try an force an answer to a question without one?”
She did not look at him. Phillip was once more rendered speechless by her insights. He was unsure of what to do. Never before had he felt so shameful and out of place in his work. He wanted to abandon his search for answers, but knew he could not. His oath needed to be fulfilled before he could return home. He was trapped now in a bad position, much worse than he had feared when the White had originally placed the burden of this quest upon his shoulders. He felt following Delyth any further would be nothing other than wrong but what then should he do?
“I would feel better if you walked with me as a friend.” Delyth broke Phillip's stunned silence. “I enjoy talking with you and I would prefer not to be alone right now.”
Phillip nodded, inwardly relieved to push off making a decision about what he needed to do next. Besides, it offered him an opportunity to do something nice for her for a change. Perhaps he could start to repair the hurt he was obviously perpetuating.

-[ ]-

Despite what Delyth had said, they continued onward for many hours in silence. Phillip brooded over his own behavior, still somewhat surprised and disappointed in himself. He could not think of any question to ask that did not seem to him immediately offensive and inconsiderate. Perhaps the gap between the Eclosei and Dour Gujhest had indeed grown to wide to bridge. He was consumed with his own concerns – with the concerns of the White Council and the mission he was tied into. It made him wish he could better understand the Eclosei and their motivations. It was this realization which eventually led him to his first acceptable idea of the day.
“Why do you worship the gods?” He spoke up at last, breaking the long silence. His question did not sound the same upon saying it out loud as it had when it was being formed in his head. Phillip hoped the honest intention of what he asked would come through and not the skewed connotations which could easily be interpreted from his choice of words. Delyth gave him enough time to worry about this before she finally answered.
“I think men worship gods for the same reason they study magic. They are born with the drive for power. They wish to rule over the world and shape it in some way. The gods offer a connection to this kind of power.”
“Why?” Phillip asked, then clarified, “Why do we want to rule and shape the world?”
“It is the way men were created. It's part of their nature.”
Phillip frowned at this thought. He was unhappy with the suggestion that mankind was somehow enslaved to some kind of hidden desire. “You think the gods created us so that we would rely on them for power? Why would they do this?”
Delyth laughed lightly. “I think we were all created by something far greater than the gods you know.”
Phillip was quiet for awhile longer and Delyth did not interrupt his train of thought. She had suggested there was something even bigger and farther beyond the world as most knew it. The mages taught there were four streams of power, Phillip had always assumed it was the streams which ruled over creation and the fate of the world. Perhaps she felt the same way.
“Do you know about the four streams of power?” He asked, not wanting to get ahead of himself.
“Yes, they are the guidelines for the third age of mankind.”
It was a matter-of-fact response, but Phillip persisted. “I have always thought these streams persisted through eternity, forming and perfecting life.”
“No, you haven't always thought this way.” Delyth said abruptly and with a measure of disappointment. “Men are not meant to know the true nature of their existence. I don't know why, yet your true purpose can be discovered if you know where to look for the answers.”
“I have not always thought this way?” Phillip noted the lightly scoffing tone of his voice. Delyth had always acted familiar with him, as though they knew each other in the past. Phillip could not think of why, he remembered nothing which indicated they had known each other before. Aside from this, he could not remember thinking any other way than what he had expressed except for the time before he had learned about the streams of power themselves.
“Nevermind.” She rolled her eyes. “The streams of power are simply a manifestation of order. They originate from the source of such things.” Delyth paused a moment.. “They will end with the source as well – and so shall we.”
“So you worship the gods because you believe they are somehow greater than the streams of power?” Came Phillip's retort. He noted the scoffing tone in his voice had not subsided and tried to force himself to be more caring.
“I believe in something greater than the streams of power, yes.”
They had stopped walking and regarded each other now with a measure of consternation.
“So the Eclosei are superior to Dour Gujhest after all. They are more enlightened?” Phillip could scarcely believe this was what he had said next. He felt himself living out the indignation of a schoolchild.
“I don't think the Eclosei realize there is anything beyond their Entat of gods either. They are subject to the order of this age, just as the mages are.” It was a comfortingly mild response, especially considering how heated Phillip had been acting.
“Why are you Eclosei if you do not believe in what they are doing?”
“But I do believe in what they are doing. They are seeking out the truth. I believe in what the mages are doing as well.” She placed her hand on Phillip's shoulder. “You needn't be tied down to the idea Dour Gujhest and the Eclosei should be opposed to each other.”
Phillip looked down at the ground. He had thought he might be a source of comfort for Delyth on her journey. He had thought some form of service he could provide would help ease her grief. How differently their conversation had gone. It was she who comforted him, offering small reassurances which touched his heart on a very personal level. Phillip wondered again if he really had known this woman at some point in the past.
“Why don't you return to Hearkendale?” Phillip asked suddenly. The question had only just dawned upon him, but it seemed an obvious one. If she believed the Eclosei and Dour Gujhest did not need to work in opposition to one another, why wasn't she returning to the mission her late husband had founded to bridge this very rift? “They worry about you. Your presence would help them recover and it might help you as well...” His voice trailed off.
“Hearkendale is no longer what it was meant to be,” She responded sadly, “There is no reason for me to return.”

C8(2) "History"

"History"
(WC 1313)

In truth, though, the king's real reason for naming his daughter had nothing to do with the protector herself. You've heard me mention the ancient book, well, it's the real reason the king chose to name her so.
“Years ago, before Tiala was even born, King Solonom discovered an ancient manuscript buried deep within the King's vault. It was apparent to him that nobody had read or even seen this book for a very long time, so he was naturally very curious about it. Through studying it, the King was able to discover many facts about our past which were quite different than what tradition would tell us. Now, normally nobody would know about this book or what it holds, because the King has kept it hidden away for years in fear of what the scholars might say about it but Tiala here, being a true daughter of the King, caught sight of this book one day and was also overcome by curiosity.”
Jaltizhetobek winked slyly at Tiala, who giggled lightly. “She stole the book away from the King for a time and delved into its secrets. And then she shared it with me, which was a great privilege and honor,” He bowed slightly before continuing.
“The book says many fantastical things. Much of it is difficult or impossible to read, but there are newer sections which chronicle many of the events surrounding the creation and demise of the Ancient Kingdom. Now, to be fair, there really isn't very much that's known about the Ancient Kingdom. We have our traditions and our opinions, sure, but true facts are few and far between.
“I think this is because there are so many different sides to the issue. Each of our three kingdoms has its own opinion about the Ancient Kingdom and tradition holds that the kingdom split because of these differences. Our ancestors couldn't see a way to live all together as one kingdom with so many different ideals floating about between them. That's why there was no great war or cataclysm which caused the separation of the Ancient Kingdom. All we know is the nobles came together in Calugress and mutually agreed to go their separate ways.
“The Jaltikij wanted nothing to do with the mages for some reason. Something about the dealings of Dour Gujhest had angered that entire faction, so they wanted to create a kingdom free from mages, a place where people could live and grow and develop without the influences of magic. It's a tradition that still continues today, as you know well, which is why poor Mesyth here has never set foot in our fair city and why she must be subjected to the noble's endless inquiries
“The Ortakij weren't particularly upset about anything, it seems. They were the faction that most desired to see the Ancient Kingdom continue. The Ortakij claimed to have the true King as their leader and wanted things to stay the way they had been for years. But it was not to be. Seeing that their beloved Ancient Kingdom would last no longer, they clung to the second prophecy as a vision of their future. They choose to believe that one day the true King – whose very heir rules over their lands – will reunite the three kingdoms once again in a new age of peace and prosperity.
“The Sinzakij did not trust the claims of the Ortakij and they did not like the way the Jaltikij shunned the mages. It was the Sinzakij, I think, who felt most strongly that a split in the Ancient Kingdom would serve everyone's interests best. I don't think the Sinzakij ever really wanted to see the kingdom divided, but they were able to recognize the vastness of the gaps forming between the three factions. There is a certain sense of wisdom in their call to draw up border lines and allow each side to take some time and 'clean their wounds' so to speak.
“But the ancient book sheds some more light on what happened at Calugress. Not a lot more, mind you, there are still many things left unsaid but it does give a deeper sense of why it was so important for these three groups to separate. You see, there was actually some kind of conflict that erupted within Calugress between the nobles. I don't know if it was just a friendly row or if more serious things were going on behind the scenes, but the ancient book says that many nobles were lost or killed almost over night because of this great argument. So, the truth is the nobles came together after this tragedy and decided they had to do something to prevent any more people from dying. It seemed the very heart of the kingdom was torn out overnight when they stopped working together and started attacking each other instead.
“Anyway, that's not really the point I was trying to get to. The really interesting thing the ancient book speaks about is the name of the Ancient Kingdom. Have you ever wondered why we are always calling it that? 'The Ancient Kingdom.' It seems so formal and nondescript. Well apparently naming the kingdom had become a big issue with the nobles back in those days. Something had happened which caused their king to decree that they would no longer use their true name – which was the Philosus. I don't know what it was, the book doesn't mention the event specifically, but there was something that happened which grieved them so much they were willing to give up the name which was their birthright. So, for many years they had no name and they sort of seemed to drift aimlessly. The book makes a point about how lost the kingdom was without a name to unite it. This continued until King Machal decreed that the kingdom would be known as Tiala – a new name to unite its people under a common cause.
“Apparently this Tial had done something for the Ancient Kingdom – stepped in somehow and saved it. Because she had done so much for them, King Machal wanted to honor her name and her legacy. There is even talk of an enormous temple which was to be constructed in her honor, so the people could come together and worship Tial, but they must have thought better of it, because there is no temple or even remains of a temple for Tial. It's all for the best, I suppose, since Tial isn't really a deity she probably wouldn't care much for people worshipping her anyway.
“But that's the real reason why Solonom named his daughter what he did. He, like many Kings before him, longs to see the three kingdoms reunited as one, setting aside their differences. He simply took the name King Machal had chosen and gave it to his daughter as an expression of the longing in his heart. It was also a very clever name to give to the daughter who would one day unite the Sinzakij and Jaltikij kingdoms through marriage. With two of the kingdoms linked as they will be, who is to say what the future may hold? Perhaps we will see the second prophecy come true after all.”
Jaltizhetobek stood abruptly after saying this and peered out his window. Mesyth was unsure why, since it was too dark outside to discern anything anyway. But he seemed contemplative, so neither one of the girls wanted to interrupt him. Then he yawned and turned back toward them.
“It is late, ladies, and you should be tucked away safely within the castle. Come, I will escort you back.”
Tiala looked a bit disappointed and Mesyth wondered how many stories she had hoped to hear that night. Neither one of them offered any objection, though. Silently, they stood and followed the burly blacksmith out the door and back to the castle.

C8(1) "History"

"History"
(WC 1481)

“Why were you named Tiala?”
Tiala stopped short at the question. They had been sneaking along the wall of one of the castle's courtyards, but the absence of guards had emboldened Mesyth to ask the question which had been bothering her of late. Indignant that the Jaltikij nobles had locked her new friend away in one of the castle's towers, only letting her out when they wished to ask questions, Tiala had insisted upon sneaking Mesyth away from the castle grounds to show her the city of Calugress. Mesyth objected weakly, but her desire to break the monotony, coupled with her intense curiosity about Calugress had made her resistance weak and half-hearted. This was the fifth evening they had stolen away late in the night.
Tiala was fearless, curious about everything and bold enough to poke and prod until she learned what she wanted. Normally Mesyth would have been scared to lurk through the alleyways of the city so late at night. Calugress was well managed, but no city was entirely devoid of criminal activities. Unsavory characters of all sorts could be seen conducting their evil affairs once the sun had disappeared from the horizon. However, Tiala handled herself with a singular confidence, brandishing her sword aggressively. She had assured Mesyth it would be acceptable for her to use magic on any attackers if they were placed in a dangerous position, but so far nobody had dared to approach them.
“I know some reasons,” Tiala said softly, not turning to look at Mesyth, “Why do you ask?”
“Well,” Mesyth collected her thoughts quickly, “In the temple at Mount Isteray, Tial is a well-known name, but it is not a good name. As priests, we were taught many things about the evils of Tial. We were taught to fear her return. Your name means 'of Tial' and I wonder why.”
“What do the mages say about Tial?” The princess asked after a long pause.
This was an unexpected question. Mesyth had to think about it. “I can't remember the mages ever speaking of Tial.” This suddenly seemed strange to her.
Tiala nodded as though Mesyth had answered her own question, but the young mage was still confused. She wondered if the princess was going to explain herself.
“I want you to meet a friend of mine,” Tiala spoke up again, resuming her walk along the courtyard wall, “Arnold Jaltizhetobek – a blacksmith of Calugress – he'll answer your question best.”
Mesyth stifled another question in her throat, thinking it best to wait until Tiala had answered in her own way before asking any more questions.
Arnold Jaltizhetobek was a huge man, larger than anyone Mesyth had ever met before. His appearance suited his trade well, she thought, taking note of how easily he wielded the massive hammers of a blacksmith. He let out a jolly laugh upon opening his stable doors and seeing Tiala there to greet him.
“Welcome young princess and friend.” He said, smiling broadly. “How can I assist my king's most favored daughter this evening?” The light of amusement danced plainly behind his eyes as he beckoned for them to come in before he closed the door.
“Meet Mesyth, mage of Dour Gujhest,” Tiala giggled with a flourish, but Jaltizhetobek's amused demeanor faded swiftly to seriousness.
“You have stolen the mage from the castle?” He asked earnestly.
“Well, I couldn't just let her sit there and stare at the walls all day...” Tiala put her hands on her hips authoritatively and frowned a little. “I thought you would be excited to meet a mage.”
Jaltizhetobek smiled again. “That I am, your majesty. That I am.” He looked at Mesyth, who stood shyly by the door. “She's a tiny thing.”
“Tiny but strong!” Tiala piped up, “She could defeat you as easily as swatting a bug!” Mesyth doubted this, but it elicited a jovial laugh from the massive Jaltizhetobek.
“That she could,” He agreed, moving back to his anvil to douse a chestplate he had been working on when they came to his door. “But you should both be careful. Without the king's protection... there are many here who would like to hurt this poor girl.”
Mesyth shuffled uncomfortably.
“Her name is Mesyth.” Tiala said, “She grew up in the temple at Mount Isteray and she wants to know why I would be named after the famous evil Tial.”
Jaltizhetobek stopped and looked again at Mesyth. “You were raised by the Eclosei yet you became a mage?” He seemed surprised. Mesyth didn't blame him for that, she knew she could never return home after such a betrayal. Jaltikij distrust of Dour Gujhest paled in comparison to the hatred she had grown up with.
“The Eclosei believe a great many things are evil.” Jaltizhetobek said after a pause. “This is their job.” He frowned, then smiled, then frowned again as he thought. “They aren't always wrong, you know, when they say something is evil. But, they aren't always right either.”
Mesyth nodded in agreement. She hadn't placed much trust in the teachings of the Eclosei. “I only wondered what is significant about this Tial. I know nothing of the name except that the Eclosei believe it evil.”
Jaltizhetobek nodded again. “I grew up in the Ortakij kingdom, did you know that Tiala?”
The princess laughed, “You tell me every time I come here.”
“Well, my father claimed a piece of land north of Celeukra, in territories held by the Ortakij before the great northern assault stole it all away from us. When we lost our home to the conflict, I was very bitter and angry at our enemies for what they had done, but my father laughed at me for it. He taught me to have more understanding for the clans of the north. See, they struggle just to eat every day. They fight amongst themselves and live in danger and desperation. To them, we are the evil ones – we have stolen more from them than they can ever take back. My father said we ought to pity them. Their unwillingness to form a treaty of peace with our kingdoms has condemned them.” Jaltizhetobek nodded to himself, his head bobbing up and down while he agreed with what he had just said. Mesyth found this trait amusing and it placed her at ease.
“See, there are always two sides to every struggle. We can see and understand our side clearly, because it's ours. We feel right and justified in what we have done and what we are planning to do because we understand our reasons. Our enemies are the same way. They feel right and justified in what they are doing because they have their reasons – reasons we may never understand. Just calling our enemies evil is convenient, but wrong. The Eclosei have stopped wondering what the reasons for things are. If they disagree, they just call it evil.”
Tiala found a nearby seat and Mesyth joined her.
“Tial has been called a deity – a goddess – but it is not true. King Solonom knows this and he wants to honor her memory because nobody else will. Our ancestors revered her because of her great power. They did not hate her as the Eclosei teaches now. You may have heard that she is a goddess, yes?” Jaltizhetobek looked at Mesyth, who nodded. “According to the ancient book, she is a protector. The gods are subject to her as are we. She possesses ultimate power over everything in the world – not to rule it as the gods would, but to protect it from chaos.”
Jaltizhetobek pulled a chair of his own over so he could sit and talk to them. “If the manuscripts are true, and she possesses ultimate power, then why would she allow herself to be maligned so by mankind? If her desire was to rule over us, then where is she? There are only two conclusions a reasonable person can come to. Either she is not all powerful like the manuscripts claim and the teachings about her are lies or she is not evil like the Eclosei claim and something has caused her to hide herself from us.
“Do you know why the Eclosei teach Tial is evil?” He asked without waiting for an answer, “It is because she neutered their deity, Smilles. She took some great power away from him. The Eclosei teach she did this just to spite them and make their cause suffer in the world. But this doesn't make sense. She is described as the protector, so if she did take power away from their god, it must have been because he was trying to misuse it. She punished their god and now they are pouting about it.”
Jaltizhetobek smiled broadly. “You ask why Tiala is named after Tial as though this were a bad thing. I can think of no better name to be given.

C7 "North"

"North"
(WC 2371)

“What do you know of the tribes?” Chulon sat with Katarine. It had been years since they patrolled together, but their comradery held fast. He knew that she would have valuable insight to help him in his attempt to infiltrate the clan structure to be found in Vechtazul.
“We know they are not very suspicious of newcomers.” Katarine said after some thought. “We have placed a few scouts in their ranks and the transition has always gone easily. I don't think they expect any of us would leave the comforts of home in favor of the harsh conditions they live in.”
There was something about Katarine's voice that gave Chulon reason to doubt what she was saying. It wasn't that he felt she was lying to him, he simply sensed she was holding something back.
“There's more to it... what else?” Chulon was blunt. Katarine had initially trained him in Laethecna. It seemed a natural course, he was the only one who had survived their mutual encounter all those years ago. He felt they still shared a certain bond because of it though. There was a respect Chulon had for Katarine which would never wane.
“You should know that most of our scouts have never returned.” Katarine looked him squarely in the eye. “They are accepted and they do fine for a long time. Many of them report very important things which help our defense greatly, but.... The longer they stay up there, the more likely it is they will just... disappear.”
“Disappear?” Chulon furrowed his brow at the vagueness. She wouldn't be vague unless there were truly no reason to speculate about what had happened to their scouts. “Do they become sympathetic? Or are they discovered?”
“I believe they are discovered. It doesn't make sense after all the time they spend in the group... they always report acceptance and companionship. We have tried many different means of introducing them to the life up there, exhausted all of our tactics. Somehow, they always lose contact and then they are gone. We send more scouts, but nobody ever sees these missing again.”
Chulon was starting to believe Pinmey's fantastic accusation about a magical society working within the bounds of the northern tribes. Katarine wouldn't make something like this up.
“Do you think there is another force at work... something more powerful and... insightful than the clan leadership?” He baited her, hoping to discover if the Ortakij knew anything of this society Pinmey had told him about. But Katarine shook her head in bewilderment.
“If there is something else at work in the northlands, we have never seen evidence of it. I don't know what it is, but scouting up there is a suicide mission. We don't ask our men to do it any more. Only those who volunteer are sent.”
Chulon sighed. He was hoping to glean some useful information before attempting to infiltrate the clan structure in Vechtazul, but so far he had only encountered fear and resistance to his plan.
“If there is something at work within the tribes, I will find it Katarine. I will find it and get out.”
Now it was Katarine who sighed. Chulon was capable, more capable than any of the scouts they had sent so far. But what he desired was a terrible risk. He represented a resource that the Ortakij could use. She felt strongly that if he wanted to re-engage the fight against the north, there were better ways to go about it. But she sensed there were things Chulon was holding back. He had motivations unspoken which drove him to this course. She could not approve, but there seemed little to be done to stop him. He had always been a stubborn one.
“If you must go, there are two things you should know.” She said at last, resigned to this unfortunate course. “Start with the tribe of Gulala. Our scouts there have always lasted the longest. But don't stay there. Move to different tribes. Stay moving. Don't settle in any one place too long. The only pattern I have seen is that once our men stop moving, they stop reporting back.”
It wasn't much, but it was a starting point. He had already relieved himself of all the valuables he carried. The things which held special meaning for him, he gave to Katarine for safe keeping. There wasn't much, just an old ring and the medallion he had earned from the Ortakij for surviving a demon attack. Katarine promised they would be waiting for him when he returned. Valuables of any sort would immediately raise suspicion from the clans. Nobody in the north had the means to possess such things.
Chulon decided to stay in Guervin for a few more days. Katarine had many stories to tell and if the clans were as dangerous as she was indicating, he felt it wise to enjoy what could be his last days in the civilized world. One of his favorite places in Guervin was atop the Ridgewall, so named because it overlooked the Ridge of Kemolen. He did not know who Kemolen was or what the significance of that ridge had once been, but the name had been passed down diligently through the generations. Chulon assumed it had more meaning to the northern clans who once ruled this region.
As he stood atop the Ridgewall and gazed out over the vast expanse that was Guervin, its five districts and magnificent heart, Chulon was amazed that a society as disorganized and chaotic as the clans were could have come together and manufactured such a marvel. Some said the magnificence of Guervin rivaled the beauty of Calugress. Chulon disagreed, much preferring the beauty of Calugress' intricate architectural feats, but even history showed kings of the Ancient Kingdom giving Guervin preference.
The city certainly offered more protection than Calugress. The latter was built piece by piece, slowly spreading across the Chixsin Plateau. Calugress lacked Guervin's high walls and protected gates. Sometime in the distant past one of the Jaltikij kings had decreed that a defensive wall be built around Calugress, but it was not integrated into the city and it lacked the feeling of strength that Guervin's outer wall exuded. The Ridgewall stood out from the rest of the city's sense of power, rising above the strong heights of the other, simpler walls. The Ridgewall was wide and arched, making a smooth curve around the city from its southern tip to its eastern reprise. As it made the journey from point to point, it rose smoothly into the air from the junction with the southern wall and then sunk down again to meet the eastern wall. Punctuating the length were three towers. What purpose they had originally served was unclear, but they were definitely part of the original design. It was the towers which had first revealed the hidden glories of the Ridgewall to Chulon. They were used now by Dour Gujhest to house its mages. The southernmost tower was for the Red, the middle one for the White and the northernmost tower was reserved for Ortakij emissaries. Once, Chulon had defined himself as a powerful White mage. When he visited Guervin for the White Council, he would stay there in the tower reserved for White Mages. It was well appointed and comfortable in that tower, which made it little surprise to Chulon that so few of the White ever bothered to venture upward onto the Ridgewall. Those who did, though, would always find time to return. He technically had no right to be on the Ridgewall now, but nobody would bother to question his presence.
Legend spoke of a great deity who had constructed Guervin for the tribes, as a place where they could come and settle their disputes. It was supposedly this same deity who had saved the Ancient Kingdom from falling into turmoil on countless occasions. It seemed there could be no other way this magnificent city would have ever existed, so hard was it to believe the clans could have accomplished it. But Chulon had his reservations about the legends surrounding this supposed deity. She was said to be a protector, given supreme power over all of the world, but if that were true why had she not been seen or heard from for hundreds of years? All gods made themselves known, from the greatest to the least among them. Chulon couldn't believe in some fantastical governor who never bothered to govern. Hard as it was to imagine, the clans had somehow come together in Guervin. Perhaps the power which had been invested into the creation of this city was the same mysterious power which was ferreting out the Ortakij scouts in the northlands. Perhaps there was more to the northern clans than any in the Southern Kingdoms had yet dared to imagine.
What would he find in the Vechtazul Solace?

-[ ]-

Several months in the tribe of Gulala had revealed many interesting things to Chulon. He had almost immediately confirmed the source of demons to be at the heart of the tribes somewhere. Gulala was at war with the neighboring tribe of Lom and he was almost immediately accosted by stories of demon attacks occuring even in the northlands. Apparently the leadership in Gulala believed the demons were coming from the tribe of Lom, which had long sought to overthrow them. Gulala survived by virtue of its size, but Lom was making distressing headway against them in recent months.
There was not much more to be learned from Gulala, they knew very little about the demons themselves. Chulon was not sure if the accusations leveled against Lom were accurate or simply guesses prompted by recent losses. Either way, it seemed apparent the tribe of Lom would be the best move for him as he continued his search. Evidence of demonic attacks was plainly visible throughout Gulala's holdings, leaving little doubt in Chulon's mind that he was closing in on the source.
Chulon feared bridging the gap between Lom and Gulala would be difficult, wondering if some hatred between the two clans would prove to be a roadblock. These fears were unjustified, though. Lom welcomed any who would defect into its fold, more than happy to drain resources from their enemy in any way possible. Chulon noted that survival was more important than origins, a tool he knew he could use effectively as he sought to uncover their secrets.
The clans were not as disorganized as Chulon had come to believe. Most of them maintained clear borderlines and established small towns across the countryside. These villages were transient affairs, constantly vulnerable to attack, but if a clan managed to put its neighbors on the defensive, as Lom had done, it would secure as much safety for itself as could be expected. None of the clans respected any other, though temporary treaties seemed to come and go with great regularity. Lom was currently allied with the two tribed of Plooryt and the tribe of Suspralty in their fight against Gulala, but Chulon witnessed firsthand many instances where members of Lom were almost openly plotting against their own allies, making plans for a new war after Gulala was defeated. It seemed to be an endless cycle. All of the clans were constantly locked in battle against each other for some measure of dominance. But there was no dominance to be had. Each clan could sustain a certain amount of power, but no more. Once they grew to a certain size, the clans would fracture from the inside out, splitting into different, new clans which were divided by their own separate interests. These divisions would eventually form into new official clans which would then proceed to war against each other all over again.
There was no rule of law to govern these groups and no central ideal to strive for. They simply chased after whatever appeared most attractive to them at the time. From his dealings, Chulon could clearly see that the clans did not recognize or understand their need for unity and laws because they constantly blamed all of their problems on the kingdoms to the south. In their opinion, if the southern kingdoms did not exist then there would be ample land and supplies to save them all from the cycle of war. Chulon shook his head inwardly at the purposelessness of their endeavors. Nothing Lom or any of the other tribes did would have any meaning or lasting value.
The quickest path to the inner circles and secrets of the clans was through service and displays of power. This was a benefit to Chulon, because he could easily climb the ranks to fame through the clans' incessant battles. It was not long before the leadership of Lom began to take notice of Chulon's incredible battlefield prowess. They showed favor by thrusting him relentlessly into more and more battles. It was primitive, but it served their needs, and he was willing to do what was necessary to work his way into their confidence. He felt comforted in his actions when he reminded himself that all who fell before him on the field of battle were ultimately members of the clans of Vechtazul. Anyone he killed would be one less marauder to harass the northern border of the Ortakij kingdom.
He continued for several months in this way within the tribe of Lom, helping their interests and ensuring they succeeded in all their warlord set his mind to. With the trained expertise of a Laethecna at their back, Lom made new headway against the tribe of Gulala. Chulon had hoped to see them unleash a demon or get some sense of where such attacks stemmed from, but his own prowess seemed to supersede any need the tribe might have for such assistance. This bothered Chulon until he made up his mind to move on from the tribe of Lom and pursue a relationship with one of the tribes further to the north, perhaps one of the eight tribes of Kier-Ree-Tan, which were the most unknown to the soldiers of the Ortakij. Perhaps it was time for some added risk.
Before he could make this move, though, things changed drastically for Chulon.

C6 "The Court..."

"The Court Of Calugress"
(WC 3603)

It was not a long trip from the heart of Dour Gujhest to Calugress, but the diplomatic caravan took their time in getting there. Once Mesyth had spoken with Viligau to accept her release only a few days were available for readying her for her first experiences with the Jaltikij. The White Council seemed especially concerned, not really knowing what to expect from the Jaltikij. A few of the White seemed to know more about the affairs of the Jaltikij because they had been directly involved in making advisements on the political affairs of the Sinzakij, whose relationship with the Jaltikij was open and friendly. King Esric Sinzakij highly valued the assistance of the mages and kept several close to his throne. Still, none of the mages had ever dealt with a Jaltikij noble directly or been allowed to do so.
It seemed that many in the White Council wanted to use the few days they had to fill Mesyth's head with all sorts of information and carefully planned responses, but Viligau stood in the gap for the young mage in all of these matters, reassuring her time and again that she need only be honest about what she knew and everything would be alright. The whole process went by in a blur, but Delyth stayed by her side and kept her calm until the day they departed.
It was hardest for Mesyth to say goodbye to her mother. It seemed unfair to finally get to see Delyth again after all of these years only to be whisked away on an errand of such great importance. She did not know when she would be able to see her mother again or how long she would be expected to stay with the Jaltikij. The gravity of her mission had not yet overtaken her mind either, allowing her to focus on one sadness at a time. Finally, she departed from the White Council in the heart of Dour Gujhest and traveled to the southernmost tip of the rim of Dour Gujhest. There her mage entourage connected her with the diplomatic caravan and said their goodbyes. It was not until this moment that Mesyth realized she would be the only mage making this journey.
She was surrounded by rough men, soldiers mostly, who protected the traveling diplomats. Thankfully there was no call for her to be social. The diplomats and soldiers showed little interest in the mage under their charge, offering her a carriage of her own to ride in, separate from the others. They brought her food and drink regularly, but otherwise ignored her presence altogether. This did not seem strange to Mesyth, who rather preferred the solitude of this arrangement. She was not in the mood to familiarize herself with a group of strangers and felt far more comfortable confining herself to the protection of her carriage walls. Being cut off from all that was familiar to her was difficult enough.
Mesyth decided with firmness, as they plodded across the countryside, that she would work hard and perform all the tasks required of her. She began to take comfort in the importance of her position. The levity of it all made her wonder why the Jaltikij were suddenly so interested in getting to know more about the mages. What had changed? Were they in need of assistance? Did they wish to establish a magic school of their own? What had prompted their desire to build new relationships with Dour Gujhest?

-[ ]-

“Mages aren't allowed into the Jaltikij kingdom. How does that make you feel?” The questioning had started almost immediately after Mesyth arrived. She was given a small chamber not far from the meeting hall where she would discover most of her work was to take place. The caravan had arrived late at night and Mesyth was allowed only as much rest as she could steal before dawn.
The Jaltikij treated her in a gruff manner, sending a stoic guardsman to knock on her door first thing in the morning and escort her directly to the meeting hall. She had yet to see much of the famed city of Calugress. Having heard stories of its beauty, she was hoping to have an opportunity to explore the city, but she was locked away within the castle walls. Her window was a thin slit through the stone that overlooked nothing more spectacular than another castle wall; blank, cold and hard.
There wasn't much time to be disappointed about this, though, because the Court of Calugress required almost constant attention. The Court itself was nothing impressive, just a semicircular table governed by five noblemen. Mesyth could barely remember their names, but after a couple days she had started to get the hang of it. One of the five was obviously compassionate toward her and often rephrased questions in a more comforting way to help her through the process. She remembered his name first and most easily, because Jorit actually seemed to care about her.
There was another who was very loud, but generally happy, and Mesyth found him very amusing. His name was Tomal, but he rarely asked any questions of substance. He seemed mostly interested in what the food and quarters were like in Dour Gujhest. He asked repeatedly about the availability of ale, a question which struck Mesyth as immediately odd, but she was so well humored by his apparent seriousness that she laughingly responded that there was no ale to be had in Dour Gujhest except under special circumstances.
Her giggling was cut short, though, by the harshest of the five. His name was Calte and he quite obviously did not like Mesyth or trust her in any way. He did most of the questioning throughout, repeating many of the inquiries multiple times every day she sat before them.
The other two were harder to remember. One was Kurshid. He seemed largely disinterested in the whole affair. Oftentimes he would arrive very late, walking in casually after Calte had already been hammering away at the same questions for several hours. Kurshid always looked bored, but he did occasionally ask a bizarre question or two, mostly his inquiries frightened Mesyth, but she tried to stay calm and honest. The fifth had been called Intath, but Mesyth often forgot his name. He simply sat in silence, staring at her all day long without saying a word. Truthfully, Intath was the one she feared the most, because of his silence. There he sat, day after day, just looking at her with no expression on his face.
The entire day was not consumed with only questioning Mesyth. Occasionally, the Court would have her sit aside and watch silently as they brought in one of the Sinzakij diplomats and asked them some questions about affairs of state. The noblemen of the Court took some pains to be kinder and more compassionate to the diplomats, setting a stark contrast to their treatment of Mesyth. They would often ask baited questions about the relationship between the Sinzakij politics and Dour Gujhest, but Mesyth was comforted by the shrewd answers that were always offered by the diplomats. Apparently they were very familiar with the Jaltikij mistrust of the mages and well versed in quieting these fears.
“It makes me feel a little sad, but I have always been taught it is my duty and responsibility to respect the wishes of others.” Mesyth answered. They had asked this question over and over again. In some ways it was becoming routine for her, she knew the answers she would give before they even finished asking the question.
“What are you capable of?” This question came from Kurshid, surprisingly, and it was one she had not heard before. Mesyth took a moment to compose her thoughts.
“Sir, I am only a young student in Dour Gujhest so my abilities are not yet completely developed.” She began, hoping as she always hoped when answering a new and unfamiliar question that she was not revealing anything which might be deemed inappropriate or offensive to the Jaltikij. Viligau had assured her simple honest would win the day, so she tried to always rely on his advice. “I study what is called “lesser elemental magic” and this means that I am learning to manipulate the four basic elements of life: earth, water, wind and fire. I must confess that my knowledge of earth, wind and fire is very limited, but I do enjoy working with the water element.”
“You have not told me what you are capable of.” Kurshid retorted with an air of annoyance.
“What he means is,” Jorit spoke up, “What are some of the things specifically that you can do?”
Mesyth thought about this for another moment. It was a strange question, one which was outside of the focus of her training. When studying magic, students were not encouraged to define their progress by a list of things they could or could not do. There were simply too many options available. Magical manipulation of water meant the student was opened to using water in whatever way seemed best to them at the time. All of the attributes of the element lay open before them and were only limited to the student's creativity and needs. Using water was an adaptive process, something that depended entirely upon what the situation might call for. Defining specific abilities was a foreign exercise to Mesyth and it required her to sit and think about some of the things she might do if she needed to. “I suppose I could freeze things, or I could possibly cause it to rain. But sometimes the conditions are not ideal so it takes more ability than I might have to do things like that. But I could turn water into air or make it burn or I could freeze it solid. I might be able to throw a solid block of ice at something. Or maybe if I needed to break through a wall I could freeze the water inside the wall and cause it to expand rapidly so it would break the structure of the wall from the inside out.” Mesyth tried to be as creative as she could. “I could use water to catch someone who was falling, or maybe to make a slide for them. Or I could use it to make a slide just for fun. I could make a wall to protect myself maybe, but that would also depend on the conditions. Oh, I can make water dance. We have fountains at Dour Gujhest and sometimes I just make the water dance. It is so beautiful.”
Mesyth stopped, a little breathless from getting carried away with her ideas. It was a look from Kurshid that made her stop, though, for he was obviously not amused by her speculations.
“Are all of the mages only able to play with water?” He growled once she had fallen silent.
“No, sir.” Mesyth replied respectfully. “Elemental magic is only the beginning of magical training. There are many more abilities to be learned.”
“With so many different abilities to choose from,” Calte began, “What exactly is the mage agenda? What do the mages want? How do they intend to use their power in the world?”
Back to the familiar again, Mesyth took a deep breath and tried to remember her answer. “Mages are charged with the responsibility to help anyone they can in any way they can.”
“Aren't you trained to tell people what to do and to force them to do what you think is best?”
“No sir. Forcing someone to do anything against their will is strictly forbidden. We are taught to obey the laws of our land.” Mesyth responded.
“Do you feel you are better than everyone else because you use magic?” It was another new question.
“No sir.”
“You said you were taught to obey the laws of your land,” Calte leaned forward, “Do you think our laws do not apply to you?”
“No sir. I believe it is my responsibility to respect and uphold your laws while I am present in your land.” Mesyth could muster no better response, but wondered if they were setting some kind of trap.
Jorit sighed and interjected “Can you accept the authority and leadership of those who are not mages?”
Before Mesyth could answer, Kurshid interrupted asking, “If we decided you were dangerous and were to execute you, what would you do?”
“We are taught to respect and obey the leaders of the land.” Mesyth replied cautiously, feeling very threatened by the mention of execution. “However, we are ultimately subject to the rule of our leaders at Dour Gujhest. If you deemed me dangerous and were to execute me, I would attempt to return to Dour Gujhest.”
Calte looked meaningfully at Jorit, as though he had won an argument. Jorit, however, appeared unphased.
“Thank you for your honesty, Mesyth,” He said, “We are going to release you to your quarters today. There are some matters we wish to discuss before we continue.”
Mesyth was a little confused by this turn of events. She couldn't help but wonder how serious Kurshid was in asking her about what she would do if they tried to execute her. She was not sure what to do with herself now that she had been released from the Court in the middle of the day. She did not know if she would be allowed to exit the castle walls and see the city or if she would be expected to sit and do nothing in her quarters.
This question was soon answered though, for the guard returned and escorted her directly back to her room. Feeling somewhat imprisoned, especially after what had just been said, Mesyth fretted for a few hours, pacing and trying to calm herself. Finally, she decided that the best thing she could do with the circumstance was try to get some much-needed sleep. There was little else for her to do anyway.

-[ ]-

“Hey!” A sharp nudge to her shoulder woke Mesyth up suddenly. It was dark in her room, she must have slept away the rest of the day. Someone was standing next to her in the dark, but she was usually woken by the sound of the guard knocking on her door. The door was closed.
“Ah!” Mesyth let out a short, sharp scream and pulled away from the figure next to her bed.
The next thing she heard was the crisp and clear sound of metal on metal and as her eyes adjusted she saw the figure stumble back a step and draw a sword.
Mesyth jumped backward into the corner, throwing her hands up.
“What do you want?” She asked, frightened.
The person with the sword stood still for a moment, then relaxed and stood upright again, re-sheathing the weapon.
“Aren't you the mage the Court is questioning?” It was a female voice and it calmed Mesyth down a little.
“Yes.” She replied timidly.
The strange girl burst into laughter suddenly. “I thought you were going to use some kind of magic on me, I am sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.”
Mesyth hedged a step forward. “Who are you?”
“What do you mean who am I?” The girl retorted with pomp. “Don't you recognize me? I am the Grand Magistrate of... of... Outside Kingdom Affairs.”
“What is that?” Mesyth asked, wondering why an official would sneak up on her in the dark.
“Nevermind that,” The girl snapped, “I am here for questioning. Please sit.”
“I... I would like to ask the guard about this.” Mesyth stammered, edging closer to the door. This girl seemed nice, but mischievous. Besides, she was armed and Mesyth did not trust her.
“No don't!” The girl waved Mesyth away from the door. “Please.”
Mesyth stopped hesitantly. The girl sat down on one of the stools in the room. “I am not a Grand Magistrate.”
“Who are you?” Mesyth asked again.
“Princess Tiala Tulase Fra Jaltikij at your service.” She stood and curtsied abruptly and then sat down again. Mesyth edged closer to the door again.
“Wait!” The girl insisted. “I am telling the truth. My father would be very upset if he knew I was here. Please don't tell the guard.
“You're a Jaltikij princess?” Mesyth asked dubiously.
“I am the Jaltikij princess.” Tiala said importantly. “And since I am the reason you are here, I think I deserve to be able to ask you some questions myself.”
The reason? Mesyth herself did not even know why she had been brought here. The White Council did not know why the Jaltikij were suddenly so interested in the mages. Was it all because a girl was curious? That hardly explained the inquisition Mesyth had endured these past few days.
“What do you mean you're 'the reason' I am here?” Mesyth managed.
“You really don't know?” Tiala raised an eyebrow. “Haven't you heard about the treaty between the Jaltikij and Sinzakij?”
Mesyth thought about this for a moment. Wasn't there already a treaty between the Jaltikij and Sinzakij? She thought there must have been, they were such friendly neighbors. But she shook her head “no.”
“I thought the mages were supposed to know everything.” Tiala looked incredulous. “Don't you guys keep tabs on all our dealing so you can meddle and make sure everything works out the way you want it to?”
Mesyth had not heard this before. She was aware that the White Council had dealings with the Sinzakij and Ortakij kings, but the idea they were meddling or trying to manipulate the turn of political events seemed wholly preposterous to her. She felt a little like she was back in the chamber of the Court, being asked divisive and ridiculous questions by the Jaltikij nobles. Mesyth decided this must be the Jaltikij princess and the whole of the Jatikij nobility must be under some kind of delusion that the mages were evil, conniving dictators.
“No.” It was the only reply Mesyth could muster. She was still struggling with disbelief over how acidic the Jaltikij were toward Dour Gujhest or anything relating to it. No wonder they had closed their borders to the mages. With so much distrust in their kingdom it was amazing they would ever talk to a mage.
“What is this treaty and why am I here?” Mesyth sunk into a stool, now very curious about what this girl had to tell her.
“Well,” Tiala leaned forward, “I am the youngest child of King Solonom. He always hoped to have a son, but it's been a long time since I was born and the kingdom has lost hope that the King will produce an heir. It's just a delicious circumstance, you see, because I was a disappointment to my father when I was born, but now I am the hope of the Jaltikij.” Tiala winked mischievously. “When I was still very young, the King – distressed that he was only able to have daughters – was scared for the future of his kingdom. So he got together in secret with the Sinzakij King and they made a pact. They agreed that if King Solonom did not produce an heir by the time I was ten, then a marriage would be arranged between the Sinzakij Prince and the Jaltikij Princess. That's me. So there you have it, the marriage was arranged and now, with the wedding getting so close, the Jaltikij kingdom is in an uproar. They are all worried about what it means to be joined together with the Sinzakij kingdom and they want to know every detail. So the King brought a mage here – you – to get all the dirty details about what it means to be joined together with the kingdom where the mages live.”
“You're getting married?” Mesyth looked at Tiala, who appeared to be several years younger than she. How could this girl be getting married? Mesyth hadn't even considered the possibility of marriage yet. It seemed so far off to her.
“Well, yeah.” Tiala snorted. “It's part of the treaty.” She shook her head incredulously. “I don't even call it a marriage. I call it the treaty. Although the Sinzakij Prince is... well, most people would say I am a very lucky girl.”
It was a brash way of putting it. But Tiala did not seem concerned about the marriage. She spoke so flippantly, yet something in her demeanor was comforting to Mesyth allowing her to relax around Tiala. They continued talking for a few more hours, Tiala taking in as many details about life in Dour Gujhest as she could manage. Mesyth wondered if the young princess secretly wanted to become a mage. It was certainly obvious that Tiala longed to at least visit the cities of magic.
For her part, Mesyth tried to pry as much information about the Jaltikij out of Tiala as she could manage. It was greatly comforting to her to hear about the nobles in the kingdom from a female's perspective. Tiala openly mocked Kurshid and Calte, assuring Mesyth that the King thought very little of those two nobles and only allowed them in the Court because of their birthright. Something about this revelation made Mesyth feel better. Perhaps the Jaltikij were not all bad. Tiala was certainly very friendly and forthright.
Getting to know her put a new face on Mesyth's visit to the Jaltikij Court. It filled her with assurance and reminded her that she had an opportunity to bridge the gap between the Jaltikij and Dour Gujhest. And her efforts in doing so would be for the betterment of both kingdoms.

C5 "Mesyth..."

"Mesyth Petora"
(WC 2622)

“Mother!” Mesyth squealed when she caught sight of Delyth. Though she had run away from home a few years before, Mesyth never felt as though she had defied her parents' wishes by her actions. Delyth herself had expressed approval for Mesyth's desires. Only her sister Aelyth disapproved of her plans to become a mage. Seeing her mother again after such a long absence was a great relief to Mesyth.
Delyth had caught up to her daughter late in the day, after Mesyth's studies were completed. They both hurried to embrace each other, but Mesyth immediately realized, in spite of the long absence, something was different about her mother's demeanor.
“What is wrong?” She asked from the safety of her mother's embrace.
Delyth continued to hold her close in silence, knowing that news of Heirzem's death would crush her poor daughter's spirit. Both of her daughters had bonded very quickly with Heirzem after Delyth and he were married. Heirzem filled a much-needed void in their lives, something that Delyth had been concerned about as her daughters grew up. They needed a father in their lives.
Telling Mesyth what had happened was difficult. Part of her wanted to be blunt about it, to have the truth out and clean up after. But another part of her wondered if there might be some other way to tell of what had happened.
“I have wanted to come see you every day.” Delyth began, stroking Mesyth's hair. “Do you remember the project Heirzem wanted to pursue?”
“The settlement?” Mesyth wanted to be sure.
“Yes, Hearkendale. Shortly after you set out for Dour Gujhest, he got approval for the project.” Delyth smiled to herself inadvertently. “He was so passionate about it.”
“So... you have not been at the temple these years?” Mesyth pulled back and looked up into Delyth's face.
“No, daughter, we have been only a little way from here, working hard to establish Heirzem's vision. I have missed both you and Aelyth terribly, but the process of putting it all together has demanded constant attention.” Delyth paused again and gripped Mesyth's hand. “I was planning to come see you soon, but I couldn't help but think that there was something... wrong about Hearkendale. We were both looking into it every day, trying to find the source.”
“Tell me what is wrong, mother, you are scaring me.” Mesyth feared the worst.
“I want you to know that Heirzem and I are both very proud of you.” Delyth steeled herself against the moment. “But I did not come here only to visit you. A demon attacked Hearkendale and the mages have asked me to come and speak with them about what happened. But Mesyth, I was away during the attack and... Heirzem died defending the town.”
“What?” Came the pained whisper. Mesyth's head spun and she staggered a bit, trying to come closer to her mother. Delyth wrapped her arms around her daughter swiftly and guided her to a nearby bench. Mesyth's small body began to shake with sobs as she curled tighter and closer to her mother. How could Heirzem be dead?

-[ ]-

“Mesyth has much to deal with,” Phillip began, “I do not think you could easily convince her to attend to this errand. She has not yet passed beyond the School of Lesser Elemental Magic and I sense there will be a measure of hesitation in her. She will not wish to abandon her studies so soon when there is much left for her to learn.”
It had been almost a day since Delyth was dismissed from the White Council, but Phillip still stood before them, answering questions and sharing any insights that he could muster. The discussion had turned now to an emissarial mission to the Jaltikij kingdom. It had been a long time since the Jaltikij agreed to allow any mage to step across their borders. Long ago, when the Ancient Kingdom was teetering on the precipice of its eventual demise, the Jaltikij legend claimed that it was the mages who fractured what remained. It was the source of distrust between the Jaltikij empire and Dour Gujhest. For their part, the mages had always respected the neighboring kingdom's desire to be free from any mage influence. All of the mages White and Red were strictly forbidden from visiting Jaltikij lands. The White Council took it so seriously that any mage who was known to have broken this one rule would be banished from Dour Gujhest permanently.
But there was nothing in the Jaltikij legend that spoke to exactly why the mages were so deeply distrusted by an entire kingdom. Though they were blamed for the downfall of the Ancient Kingdom, there was no account of what exactly they had done to deserve such infamy. Phillip knew that a convoy into the Jaltikij lands with a mage was an important moment in the history of their world.
He could see the logic of the White Council in suddenly latching onto Mesyth Petora as an obvious candidate. The Jaltikij in recent days had often pointed to the division between the Eclosei and Dour Gujhest as evidence of the corruption they felt permeated the mage society. Sending a young mage who had roots in both the Eclosei and Dour Gujhest would serve to silence those sort of accusations before they would even need to be answered.
Phillip himself worried, though, about the inexperience of Mesyth. Would it really be the wisest course to send a mage who knew very little of magic instead of one who was powerful and well-versed in their ways? It seemed to him that the Jaltikij deserved honesty and experience more than they deserved a token.
Kitcau sighed. “I fear you are right about her reluctance. We are going to call for a day of release.”
The day of release was a great moment in a mage's life. Phillip still remembered his own day of release, the nervousness and the great hope within him to be assigned to something noble or important. His station wasn't so bad, but it certainly hadn't held the romantic nobility of what they were proposing to hand to Mesyth. Being released from Dour Gujhest on an assignment was essentially the same as being ordered to do so. Mesyth would have little choice in the matter if they did call a day of release. She could either accept the assignment with gratitude or she could refuse and be banished from the school. Refusals were no light matter to the White Council. Phillip thought it a cruel position to put a grieving young woman into, but he could understand the importance of the moment. If Dour Gujhest failed to send the correct person on this convoy it could mean another century of strife between the Jaltikij and Dour Gujhest. Mending old wounds was far more important than looking after the fragile feelings of a student. Or so the logic of it seemed to say.
“I too am reluctant to press such a hard task on a young student,” Viligau spoke up, “But I have searched the matter thoroughly and I know this is the right thing to do. Mesyth Petora should go. What we need to know is what you think of Delyth and how she will advise her daughter in this situation.”
“I think Delyth will do what is best for her daughter. I cannot say what that is.” Phillip shrugged helplessly. “My judgement is clouded by what is best for Dour Gujhest, what is best for the Sinzakij, and what is best for the Jaltikij. Delyth left her home at Isteray to take on a mission she deemed to be important. I believe she understands the importance of such work.”
Viligau nodded and sat back. Lylis, Ilsodar and Kitcau were whispering to each other. The White Council had been known to carry on in this manner for days at a time. Mages who had been taught at the School of Life Magic were all instructed in a magical technique which imbued them with the ability to stay awake and alert for days at a time. This sort of magic took its toll eventually, requiring a red mage of Phillip's caliber to seek rest and recovery afterward. The benefit of dealing with such matters fully in one session far outweighed any inconvenience to come afterward.
Fortunately for Phillip, this session would not last for days. His efficiency in relating the details of his experiences and the White Council's desire to deal with the matter of Mesyth Petora were bringing his report swiftly to a close and he could sense it was so. Still, he wondered what the White were discussing between themselves so intently.
“We are releasing you from the matter of demonic research. Losing Ethegra to such corruption is a serious blow to many of us who valued him as a friend. We will mourn together. Though discovering the root of these demonic attacks must still be a priority for us, we feel that your talents would be better served by following Delyth and determining by what means she was able to defeat a demon. If she was granted divine power to free herself and retain her own will, we must know how this is accomplished.” Viligau leaned forward again and repeated for emphasis. “We must know how she defeated the demon. This concludes our meeting.”
As the White Mages stood and made their way out of the room, Phillip pondered how best to discover something about Delyth which she had stated repeatedly she had no intention of revealing. Perhaps he should try to force her to tell him. There were magics that could be used to delve into her mind. The very thought of such an action disgusted Phillip though.
There would be no sense in asking Delyth again about the matter. She would only become annoyed by his persistence. Perhaps if he simply observed her interactions without her knowledge he could glean some insight into what ability she possessed. This would probably be the best method of uncovering the truth. If she thought that she was alone and nobody was watching her, then Phillip could possibly catch a glimpse of what secret she was keeping hidden from the mages. It would be a difficult task, he knew. She was renowned for her ability to disappear suddenly and Phillip himself had struggled to find even a trace of her in the forest outside Hearkendale when Chulon had asked him to find her.
Still, he could think of no other way to uncover the truth of the matter.

-[ ]-

The day of release had not gone as the White Council had hoped. Mesyth had not said a word when they assigned her to the diplomatic caravan. She did not acknowledge or accept the assignment, she simply turned and walked away quickly.
Viligau knew better than to push the matter with the young woman. Normally a mage's refusal to respond to the White Council would be a serious offense, but he valued Mesyth for this mission too highly to rush off on brash procedure. They allowed her to leave without a word, hoping that she would return later and accept the assignment. The whole affair had certainly caused a stir within Dour Gujhest. The combined effect of the newfound knowledge of Mesyth's origins and her silence in the face of a highly esteemed release served to grant her some infamy amongst her fellow students. Very few people understood the problems at the root of the situation. Very few people knew that Mesyth's father had recently been killed by a demonic attack. It was this knowledge that held the hand of the White Council in the matter and provided Mesyth an opportunity to sort out how she felt about the matter.
“How could I go?” She cried from Delyth's lap. Mesyth had spent a lot of time crying lately. She wanted nothing more than to return to the Temple at Mount Isteray where she could feel the comfort of her mother and sister at the expense of the rest of the world.
Delyth stroked her daughter's hair lightly, allowing some time before speaking about this new development. She was irritated that the mages had been so inconsiderate in their dealings with her daughter. It would have harmed nothing to wait a few weeks or months before pressing forward with their diplomatic convoy. Still, she readily recognized the value of the placement being offered to Mesyth.
“Darling, there are events of great importance at work in our lives today.” She said softly. “Your father felt the call of greatness just like you are feeling it now. He knew there would be danger and difficulty, but he faced his calling anyway. Let his example guide you.”
Mesyth calmed ever so slightly, her tears running themselves out and her body settling away from the sobs which had ruled it until now. There was warmth and comfort in her mother's embrace and it was a safe place from which she could look out at the rest of the world and think about what lay before her with some clarity. It was a wonderful thing that the bond between mother and daughter had survived the years of absence. Despite the harshness of the events which brought them together again, Mesyth felt just as much comfort in Delyth's presence as she had when she still lived in the same house.
Leaving Dour Gujhest seemed all wrong to her. It had surprised her to be called before the White Council on a day of release for none knew better than Mesyth that she was not yet finished with her training. Kind old Viligau had taken the effort to assure her training would continue once she returned from this assignment. It still seemed so very strange to be released on a matter of such importance before she was finished with even the basics of magical training.
Nevertheless, it was obvious that this assignment was filled with all kinds of prestige. The other mages had looked upon her with such a sense of awe once it had been offered to her. Like she was special in some unseen way and it had earned her special consideration. She wished that were true, but she feared she had only been chosen because of her history with the Eclosei. Delyth had comforted those insecurities away, reminding her that whoever they chose to go would have to be someone worthy of representing Dour Gujhest. It would have to be someone that they were confident in, someone who could be trusted to answer any questions about the mage society with honesty and tact. If the White Council did not feel Mesyth was capable of such things, they would not have asked her to go.
Time passed in silence as she lay in her mother's comforting embrace and pondered the seriousness of it all. This was her chance to make a difference in the world. Her chance to do something which would help all of the mages. It was an important opportunity, and realizing this revealed another part of her, deep inside, which desired to be the person who opened the Jaltikij borders to Dour Gujhest in renewed friendship and trust.
“If I go, will you come with me?” Mesyth looked up at her mother with hope.
Delyth sighed deeply and sadly. “I wish that I could. I want nothing more than to be at your side, my dear. But your sister remains at the temple. I fear she has already heard news of what happened. I need to be there for her as well.”
It was true. What must Aelyth be going through, all alone at the temple hearing news of Heirzem's death?