《Mandate of Steel.》


 Chapter 1: The End and the Death.

    All was dust.


    My heart was stone.


    There were no tears left for my world, and what it had become. The Glittering Caves of Jentir were dim, lightless where there were once swirls of beauty. Only the light of the void, gray as it was, greeted my eyes as I emerged from beneath this barren earth.


    Alone.


    The black of my clothes was the only hint of color in a void-scape drained of all else.


    Now the once green fields of Alhast lay before me, grey and colourless. An empty expanse to my final destination.


    The once-brilliant sun hung above a singular, far-off peak, devoid of heat and color. Out here on the surface, closest to the light, it was oh, so, cold. Yet the gifts of the Old Gods did not fade, even in their giver¡¯s absence, and through them my body was sustained. Their whispers of madness had faded along with all else when the Hunger-Tide had come.


    Once, there had been beauty here. Even one as cold as I could say that. These fields had overflown with life and bounty. Now there was naught but dust.


    Dust and Hollow Men.


    They stood before me in their legions. Grim specters devoid of any life and purpose. Faded remnants of a mad Lich¡¯s army. Traitors to this world, to all life. Now they stood between me and their master, endless ranks of the dead amidst the cold dust of Alhast¡¯s ruins. No eyes turned to gaze upon me as I approached. Not a limb moved to raise weapons in defense of their lord.


    Even the dead were devoid of purpose here. Their hollow gazes remained turned upward as I trudged through their ranks. There were glimpses of a city in the sky. Faint whisps of where Miros Nyl had once floated, before it had fled into the void to escape the world¡¯s end.


    The void did not so easily let go.


    I averted my gaze, for there lurked things up there. Shapes without color just beyond the thin veil of reality. Things that stalked dead worlds where naught else moved. Were I more full of life and vigor, I would dare to face them. But the world had ended, and now little remained for me. One more task lay before me, and only then would I surrender my soul to the blind expanse of eternity.


    For only eternity remained, sightless and silent as it was. The great equalizer. Without compassion or notice to all in its domain. Death had come to the deathless, and even the Hells lay empty, their fires snuffed out.


    Only I remained. Last of men. Traitor of Keth.


    The last flame of man. I had once harbored a hope, been the light that would shine in the darkness and save this world. That light had flickered, faltered and faded. Gone out when the endtimes came.


    Now it was blind, bloody vengeance. Rage and hatred. Both bellowed into the void without meaning, lost amidst the expanse of nothingness. Little shifted, and littler cared.


    The hollow men around me swayed ever so slightly, faces turned upward to the endless sun. Their ranks stretched as far as the eye could see, and I was not content to slowly wade their their masses. An eternity of time I might have, but my soul tired. Too long had I tread the wastelands of what was once my beautiful home. Too long had I endured, suffered this unforgiving cold.


    A spear of white I lifted overhead, let it crackle with power. The air distorted around it, a warped wail let loose from within its length. Colorless pulses shimmered through the empty air, and legions collapsed around me, the remnants of magic that held them animated cut loose.


    Their hollow faces turned to watch me in silence even as I parted this sea of the dead, a final flame carried towards the mountain that chained the sun.


    Reality became undone high above, the spear working its grand design as it cut the fabric of magic in twain. Cold followed in my wake, and ice was left behind my footsteps. Heavy as I was cloaked, I was numb to it all. To this place, to the death that awaited me. One final task lay before me, and only then could I finally, blessedly, fall.


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    The Hollow Men did not bar my path as I passed beneath the Doors of Thule, into the great mountain-fortress of the Lich-King. Hollow was the mountain I traveled through, rock hewn by tireless hands to make endless fortifications. Defenses made to withstand any breach, once the mountain¡¯s master enacted his plan. Built to withstand assaults that never came, manned by thousands of defenders that never saw the final combat.


    Here in the darkness, the spear lit my way, its pale light a dim flame in this darkness. Higher and higher I climbed, every step another closer to my eternal respite.


    Long had I prepared for this moment, when my duty would finally be fulfilled.


    I would die on this peak. This I knew, but death did not frighten me. I welcomed it, after this long struggle. Though I knew the afterlife lay empty, I longed to be relieved of this burden. Of the magic that kept me upright and onwards. To be alone was a frightful thing, and too long had I been the last soul that lived in this forsaken shell of a world.


    The mountain¡¯s peak lay white around me as I emerged from the great stone stairs. Not in snow, but in a brilliance that radiated from the cold sun above. Drained of light and heat though it was, the light of Helon still bathed this part of the world. Chained to this peak, locked in place forever more.


    Great bone guardians lay scattered across the peak, their forms crumpled and cut down. It was not them I sought.


    My eyes instead found a figure cloaked in gold, robes slumped in the stillness.


    Archeon, the Deathless. Ever-lord of the Black March, the Hand of Urbas, God of Lies. Wielder of unmatched power, bearer of secrets since the dawn of this world. Here it lay, slumped after its dusk. Taken by the calamity it had unleashed. Made equal in death.


    ¡°Are you happy?¡± I rasped, my mouth unused to the words after such a long time. ¡°Has this pleased you?¡±


    ¡°Does this satisfy you, oh lich?¡± I spoke amidst the deafening silence. But the skeleton lay still, slumped across the great altar where it had bound the sun and offered up its light, its heat in exchange for power. A lie that had never been fulfilled. There lay not rage in me, but cold certainty as I stepped forward and smashed in the long-dead skull of an ancient horror that had plagued this world since it¡¯s dawn.


    It had won.


    Ushered in the dusk of all life, until at last it had outlived all else.


    All else but me.


    The last being that still lived on this forsaken world. Now I stood amidst the silence, the shattered remnants of the last great evil broken beneath me. Bells of stone hung silent around the altar, the chimes of the apocalypse come and gone. I smote the altar and all it¡¯s evil, but it¡¯s malicious work had already been wrought.


    And finally, I was alone. My purpose was fulfilled.


    I sank to my knees at the peak¡¯s edge and gazed out of the scarred void of all that remained.


    ¡°Come home.¡± The silence whispered to me. I could not.


    There was no home left for me to return. No familiar faces to share my fire. Those had all fallen across this journey. One here, another there, several at once in battle. All the rest once the cold had taken hold. Now I spread my arms and leaned back, my eyes upturned to the endless expanse of gray. Now I waited for whatever was left to take me.


    But fate was cruel, and I remained. Alone. Unable to pass on. I felt no pain, and experienced no cold. Hunger was a distant memory. The needs of this fleshen shell had ceased even as time had stopped for me. This was the final task, and no reward lay at its end. This I knew. The entire world I had scoured for any light, any life before I had forced myself to undertake this pilgrimage.


    Through the darkness and ice I had journeyed where the sun could no longer shine. Across dark, dead lands. Into the core of the world as I searched for something, anything that was not me. Through the Mines of Holak¡¯s Deep, down to the Underdark and the great ocean below the world, into the forbidden places of fire where man could step into the Deep Hells. To the Tower of the Sun and the stairway that led to the Heavens Above. All lay still. Empty as the grave. Naught to be found.


    How long I remained there, there was no way to tell. There was no need to tell.


    Brilliance took me.


    Light and warmth and goodness. It found a smile upon my face as I closed tired eyes and accepted death.


    But death did not come with the experience of floating. I drifted through the light now, a specter amidst the endless glare.


    Before me was a figure, vast beyond measure. A primordial being of lumination, the very stars in its eyes. Of majesty and splendor that the words of man could scant hope to describe. This being was before me now, and it spoke.


    You could not save your world, child of man.


    Again.


    I woke to a wooden roof above my form. The smell of fresh bread heavy in my nostrils. Warmth and light drifting through the window at my side. Soft bedding beneath me. A hunger in my stomach. Old, unfamiliar sensations. I lay there and stared for a time, shocked. Finally, I raised one arm and gazed at the flesh I could barely recognize. Strong, wiry arms tanned from the summer sun. Unlaced by the plethora of scars I had acquired through my journeys. Hands went to my face as I felt the rough stubble, barely shaven and ill-maintained.


    I was home.


    In a bed I had not slept within for so, so long.


    I knew this. This moment. This day. The decisions that shaped my future. The mistakes I had made, though they were legion.


    I did not think of duty then. Of the coming end, so far away as it was. I lay there and wept for hearth and home. Of a place I had never dared imagine I would return to. Here I was, propelled back in time by some being beyond comprehension.


    Now there was a task upon me. I lay here, burdened by great purpose and knowledge that no other possessed.


    The end was coming. I knew the faces of evil. Had seen the cruel and weak that would bring all life low. But this time, I would stop them. Put them down before they could hatch their schemes and evils. No longer would I make the mistakes of mercy. They would be ripped down by my hands, so that all others may live.


    But first, bread. Younger, spryer muscles hopped off my bed and stretched, nearly uncovering the bundle hidden beneath the blankets. I had left in the night. Snuck out to pursue a life of adventure. Damned those I had left behind.


    Not this time. Fate had given me a chance, and I intended to seize it.

 Chapter 2: A wind anew.

    Modest was the house I had grown up in. Always I had wanted more, desired a grand mansion with servants and every whim catered to. Longed to live in luxury and wealth. Now, I was glad beyond belief to simply be home.


    I sat now at the dinner table, silent as I listened to my parents speak of matters around the town. My eyes drifted from my meal, moving around to take it all in. There had been a certainty in me that I would never see this all again after the fire and raids.


    A gift had been bestowed unto me, and I would not forsake it.


    ¡°At a loss for words today, Jacen?¡± My father remarked, eyebrow lifted. ¡°No plans for adventure dreamt up with your blissful nap?¡±


    A sharp, witty man that had put a smooth tongue to good use. Owner of the town¡¯s trading post and flour mill. It was thanks to him that I had been able to indulge in my interests in my first life. His gold had funded my adventuring career, albeit not of his will.


    ¡°SImply enjoying what I have.¡± I returned, doing my best to remember my old habits. ¡°An excellent sleep, to be fair.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps that time would better be spent at the mill.¡± Not a question, but a declaration that I would be working all evening.


    ¡°Another day.¡± I brushed it off. I had other business in mind. Of a much more important nature than to break my back grinding wheat. There lay before me now a second life, and I was not content to idly let it slip me by.


    ¡°Off to drink with your moorish friends again?¡± My sweet, calm mother asked, her distaste for the ruffians I kept company with clear. I blinked and remembered what a younger me had wasted so much time on.


    ¡°Not at all. I¡¯ve realized that I may need to reconsider who I keep in my presence.¡±


    Supper finished as a quiet affair after that, and I promptly dismissed myself. Out the front door I strode, nothing but the clothes on my back and a few coins in my pockets. Coins that might have been wasted at the pub, once. No longer.


    All of Novic spread below me, the grassland town perched at the Spine¡¯s edge. My home, as I recalled it before it had been set to the torch. It existed and thrived here with the fields that spread in every direction, but mostly because of the dungeon that grew outside its borders. High on the hill as it was, I could glimpse those stone archways from here. That was not my destination. Not yet.


    Familiar was the figure that awaited me at the hill¡¯s bottom. Welcome, he was not. Lucian staggered upright and waved as I approached, his gait unsure and smile easy. Once, my closest friend and confidant. Blonde of hair and ruddy of face. Some might even call him pleasant. I preferred to think of how much precious time and coin I had wasted because of him. How many people had died because of his weakness.


    Now, I condemned him to live.


    ¡°Off to a merry night of drinking we shall go!¡±  He crowed upon my approach. ¡°Let us please the ladies and sample the Tavernkeeper''s finest swill after such a hard day!¡±


    There was naught but contempt in my gaze for him, and only ice in my heart for his plans.


    ¡°Go then, but go without me.¡± Was all I deigned to speak and strode past him. He followed, flabbergasted.


    ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you today, Jacen?¡± Came the words as I angled down the hill and toward the forest¡¯s edge. Like a dog I could not shake, he clung to my heels.


    ¡°I¡¯ve realized, Lucian, that my life is being wasted here. In part thanks to myself and my own actions, and in part because of those who leech off my coin and influence me. You are both of the latter and I have no need for that. Goodbye.¡±


    Harsh, cutting words that could perhaps be softened. I had not the time or patience for that. Instead, I had a town to save. Distant though the memory was, I knew what would come next. Novic prepared now for the Festival of the First Harvest, but a few weeks away. And the memory of what happened that night was scarred forever into my mind. The first catalyst that had tipped an inexorably large scale past the point of no return.


    Countless memories floated in me. Precious knowledge of crucial events that slowly, inevitably led to the death of my world and everything within. For all the thousand times I had wondered; ¡°What if¡± the chance to change that now lay before me.


    First, I needed power. Strength. Tools. There was no magical talent in me. That I had learned after spending far too much of my past life to chase it. That road was a futile journey. I lacked the wondrous arsenal that had once been carried at my side, the steadfast companions that traveled alongside me. The authority I had wielded as Blade-Bearer off the Deathless Crusade. Even the body I had once walked in. Now I was naught but a young man, unscarred and without the myriad of advantages I had amassed. All save for mind and memory.


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    Those were sharp still.


    Down by the river, at the forest¡¯s edge stood my destination. A small cabin near the dense woods, surrounded by tanning racks and felled trees. Hild watched me approach, one unscarred eye keeping rack of me as she sat atop a stump. What business did some miller¡¯s son have with the huntress that kept far away from any light or life within the town? I knew this was what she thought.


    My reputation was..not good, I knew. A drunkard and a lout, coasting by on his parent¡¯s effort, oft with the rowdy crowd. This would need to be rectified.


    ¡°I need an axe,¡± Was all I stated. ¡°I¡¯ll pay well for it.¡±


    One eye looked me up and down, a baleful glare that bid me to scurry back from wence I had come.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get none unless the coin¡¯s in me palm.¡±


    And so it was. My coin left my pockets and passed into hers. Angry and spiteful the widow might be, but I knew her not to be untrue.


    ¡°Something sturdy, with a good blade. Good enough to kill a man.¡± Was all I requested, and it was what I received.


    In another life, my first weapon had been a sword. A fancy little thing imbued with cold that had cost me far too much time and money. I had gotten little use from it, in the end. Just a decoration of regret on my wall.


    One among many. Now, I needed something practical. Useful. A tool with which to survive and bring low my enemies, though they were legion.


    Hild gave me just that. An axe of wooden handle and steel head. Made to fell trees, comfortable to hold in my long limbs.


    With that, I had no more business here. A nod given to her, I set off. It would not be the last time I saw her, I knew. Now, my path led me concurrent to the town, towards the rise of stone pillars that stood not far from the last farm outside Novic¡¯s walls.


    Novic¡¯s dungeon was small, uninteresting even. The only reason this place had been built, and even now the town had outgrown it. Its core was weak, unable to grow and now remained more of an attraction than a threat.


    Or so everyone thought.


    Small and out of mind as it was, the dungeon¡¯s entrance was still under guard. Stone pillars rose around the stairways that led down to its depths. A temple stood erected to its potential, a landmark so people might know where it lay. As if those depths were hallowed in some way. It had brought the town traffic and resources, given it the gifts it needed to outgrow it. Now, it was naught but a proving ground for new adventurers and delvers, meant to be their first test before they set out for the great unknown.


    Blonde of hair, girthy of waist and lacking of enthusiasm, Terrance lounged by the entrance. I had the misfortune of knowing this man, through his blood relation to Lucian. Much like his nephew, the blonde man was a drunkard, but worse, he would be a traitor.


    ¡°Afternoon, Jacen.¡± He sounded genuinely surprised as I approached, axe on my shoulder. ¡°Never figured I¡¯d see you in here.¡±


    And in another life, he would have been correct.


    ¡°I¡¯m fixin¡¯ to head inside.¡± I spoke, tone carefully kept in check. If a hint of contempt leaked through, it was not acknowledged.


    ¡°Well now, you know I can¡¯t just let anyone stroll right on in. This here¡¯s a dangerous place, young man. Did you get your permit from the Guild yet?¡±


    I had not. I could not afford to wait for the several weeks that would take. And I knew he would not understand that.


    ¡°No.¡± Was all I replied, standing relaxed as I was. ¡°I just woke up this afternoon with an urge to head on in.¡±


    The man laughed at that, deep and jolly.


    ¡°Well now, you¡¯re an enthusiastic one. Can¡¯t let you in, though. Not even for a pocketful of your daddy¡¯s coin.¡±


    That gave him another chuckle as I mentally lined the axeblade up with the space between his eyebrows. He deserved to die, as did several of his associates. But his corpse would be heavy to drag around, and his death would raise questions. My words put me on another course.


    ¡°How about you stand aside and let me through, or I¡¯ll start tellin¡¯ folks -folks that matter- about those robes you keep hidden under the floorboards in your guest room and the sort of people you meet with in private out in the forest?¡± I watched his face subtly change from shock to fear to anger. ¡°And I¡¯ll make good on that too.¡±


    Just a few sentences had turned him pale as snow, and a few more got him to step aside entirely. These words would not go unanswered, I knew. But that was something I would deal with in a bit. For now, I needed the power to do exactly that.


    No words were spoken as I carefully stepped past him and down into the dungeon¡¯s guts, my eyes locked on the larger man¡¯s form all the way. Only once I was well and truly in its maw did I turn and focus on the path ahead.


    Stairs led down into a dull darkness, lit here by torches on the wall. I hefted one for myself and moved with haste, descending into the darkness.


    Before me lay a barren room, hewn of rounded stone and with stained blood upon the floor. The air here smelled cold and dead, far below the surface of the world above. The first room of many. I walked to its center and held the torch high, knowing what was to come. Ever so slowly, I turned, my back to the open doorway that loomed behind me, eyes glued on the room¡¯s center.


    One step, then another I took back, axe held at the ready. One foot came down, and fast as I could blink, the door slammed closed behind me. A flash of blue light erupted from the room¡¯s center as a bellowing Kobold berserker was wrenched through space, armed and ready to disembowel me.


    The axe bit through its skull before it could more than blink. It looked confused for a moment, then collapsed forward until my grip supposed its weight. With a grunt, I wrenched the axe free and let it plant a face-first onto the concrete, well and truly dead. One moment, it has been enjoying whatever it was Kobolds did in the Spine of the World, the next it had been teleported here in defense of the dungeon.


    And now it was dead, and there were many more to come.

 Chapter 3: Unveiled.

    The defense of the heart proved bloody. The core found minions -willing or not- and yanked them into being in my path. This was a place where warriors came to whet their blades, hone their skills and cut down a myriad of foes to further their standing with their patron Gods.


    I had reason to be here today. The movements came sloppily at first. Too-wide swings and choppy executions even with the experience I had. My mind knew which way the axe should fall. How it should be gripped and swung. My body did not. That took getting used to. It had been many long years since I had ventured into this dungeon. Yet I knew it, and it¡¯s secrets. It¡¯s trials and rewards. For why else make a place so dangerous, if not to reward those who overcame it?


    Through the dungeon¡¯s bumpy corridors I strode, not so much as a scratch on my clothes. The same could not be said of blood. That was splattered all over me, though none was my own. I knew how to kill, and how to do it well.


    So confident was I in my skills that I had not even thought of armor. The Kobolds posed little threat to me, and I disdained them. The dead I left in my wake, to be reabsorbed and reused by the core once I left. There were traps, of course. Traps that proved ineffective once a man knew of them and where they lay.


    The core lay before me all too quickly, its domain torn through in my quest for power. The beating heart of the dungeon. A fragment of divine power, placed here as a tribulation for the worthy to overcome. And so I had done, and now I laid claim to my prize.


    Once every year, there would be grand ritual. A celebration of the Gods Above, where young hopefuls would step forward and choose their path. Where they would be guided by grace to their destinies, find their path laid before them.


    I needed to shortcut that. The festival would be held weeks from now. None would find a new path. Instead there would be only death and fire as the town burned from within.


    In my last life, this had been the spark that set off the powder-keg and roiled the region into chaos. I had survived because I had not been present, but slipped away without any knowledge of the happenings. When I had returned, there had only been burnt ashes and a pyre that held everything I had once known to be good and happy.


    Heresy was the least of what I was willing to commit to stop that.


    Dangerous as they were, the core of these dungeons were sacred. Placed here by the Gods Above to test those who might one day call themselves worthy. Places to hone skills and strengthen one''s resolve. The weak might fall in these halls, but such was life.


    Ill-content to wait for power, I would make my own.


    The core pulsed, and a single crystalline shard emerged from its rocky surface. Endurance¡¯s reward, to be presented before the altar in exchange for power and blessings. A small morsel of what could be yielded. It was not enough.


    I raised the axe and smashed downward into the core. It held, of course. Such a vessel filled with power was resilient to most any physical attack, and I was not the strongest man to exist. I was, however, girded by resilience and steadfast in the knowledge that I must do this.


    To destroy a core was heresy. To spit in the faces of the Gods and their gifts and take them only for oneself, to leave none for others who proved worthy. This was why dungeons were not simply destroyed for power once found. Every land held this belief, although some enforced it more than others. This knowledge -and the punishment for destroying this core- burned fresh on my mind with every swing that chipped into the rounded shape before me.


    My relentless assault finally yielded fruit. With a heartbreaking glimmer and a soft tinkle, the core shattered before me. Wind gusted in the cave¡¯s depths as it released might and magic, it¡¯s final death-knell unnoticed for anyone save me.


    Smooth, sharp fragments cut my fingers even as I scooped the remains into a tough leather pouch and sealed them away.


    Time to leave before anyone came looking.


    Terrence was nowhere to be found when I emerged from the dark, rocky depths. My words had sent the jolly man off on a sudden matter of business that needed to be reported. Him and those he was with I would deal with shortly. For now, I needed to put distance between myself and the dungeon before anyone realized what had happened.


    Back towards the forest I went, careful to avoid any figures out on the fields. There, I began to bandage my wound, aware that I had left a trail of blood behind. A younger, less wise Jacen would not have thought of that. The river would make anyone on my trail lose scent, and the reeds there could provide a rudimentary bandage. It was here that I also paused to concoct an alibi.


    Another issue rose to mind here; I did not know who was in on it. Terrence I was certain of, but only because I had caught up with the man years later. All the other perpetrators had remained a mystery to me. It simply boiled down to the fact that I had not been here when the massacre happened. I needed to know. My words earlier had set that plan in motion, and now it was up to me to follow it.


    A good, thorough dip in the river drenched me, and left my clothes damp. With that I set off back to town, headed towards a place I was all too familiar with. The axe I left stashed near the bank, unwilling to raise suspicion by suddenly carrying around a weapon.


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    The Jackdaw¡¯s Crown was my drunkard¡¯s hole of choice. A place where I had wasted far too much of my life and coin. Inside its walls, one could find drink, music, games of chance and men or women. Today I was here for none of those.


    ¡°Young Jacen!¡± A bearded, bald face heralded me as I approached the bar. ¡°So glad one of my loyalest customers graces me again today.¡±


    ¡°Rukso.¡± I grunted back. A wide, greasy man with an easy smile and an ear for gossip.


    ¡°I admit, I was worried as to your patronage when young Lucian came by himself earlier.¡± He remarked, already readying a mug of ale for me.


    ¡°Why, never.¡± I smiled, every word forced. ¡°I only went for a refreshing swim.¡± I gestured towards my damp clothes. My cut hand was hidden out of sight, the other firmly on the bar. The place was full, as usual this time of year. People had finished the work-day and made their way here, or perhaps simply hadn¡¯t worked at all.


    ¡°I admit, I¡¯m not here to drink tonight. The folks and I had a little spat, and now I find myself in need of a room.¡±


    All too believable a lie, given my proud father¡¯s temperament mixed with my own lazy disposition.


    ¡°A shame.¡± He nodded along to my woes. ¡°Any preference?¡±


    The coin was slid over the counter, and I was soon in possession of a key. Up the stairs I went, the noise and light of the bustling pub left behind me. I had requested a specific room, one at the building¡¯s corner that looked out over the street. It was already occupied, and so I had gotten the next best thing. The one right next to it.


    The sounds of the pub were all too easily ignored as I let myself in. The lights I left unlit, and instead dragged a chair next to the window. Curtains open, I seated myself and leaned forward, gaze falling out over the streets of Novic.


    Dusty streets that longed for rain to tide them over were sparsely populated with people as the day drew to a close. The comings and goings of the town¡¯s residents were of no interest to me. Only a single door would yield what I awaited.


    The dungeon guard lived off a rather generous salary, and it showed. His house was nice, modest and well-kept. Flowers grew outside, the product of an attentive wife. Well cleaned and well-maintained. I took in every detail, leaned to the side as I kept my eyes focused on the doorway. Hours fell away and the noise beneath my feet grew, the evening crowd arriving for their entertainment. None of this deterred me, and with steadfast patience, I waited.


    Patience was rewarded, and come dark, a figure emerged. Dusk had long passed, and the streets were quiet now. The moon was bright, and because of it I saw Terrence pass through his front door and turn down the street, headed for the town¡¯s edge.


    The pub¡¯s window slipped open as I let myself out, door to the room locked firmly behind me. A short fall off the overhand and I too paced the streets of Novic, my eyes locked on the man ahead. From the distance I trailed him, always just out of sight. There were no moments of complacency or carelessness as I followed the man across the fields and into the woods.


    Once he had passed into the treeline I dashed for the woods, and soon found his trail. The large man was not overly hard to find, nor was his path hard to keep laterally. Deep into the forest he went, his path sure and footsteps hurried. And soon, he was alone, standing amidst an old clearing. Eyes locked onto him, I set myself off to the side as he lit a lantern, the light spilling forth. Gaze still focused on him, I swept around my feet to make sure no loose branches would suddenly, inconveniently give my presence away, then settled in and watched.


    I did not have to wait overly long.


    A thin, long man emerged from the foliage, face covered in a hood. A robe of green covered his from, a pattern of scales on the fabric. Terrence pulled his own hood up from beneath his clothes, and more figures emerged from the darkness.


    My gut tightened as I recognized faces here. Dorry the baker, round and merry. Steinen, the mayor¡¯s assistant, his fingertips perpetually blue from ink. Alexos, one of the two carpenters in the town. But most importantly, my heart sank as the thin specter was revealed to be Andres, the priest.


    ¡®Well, get on with it.¡± He snapped at Terrance. ¡°There must be a reason you¡¯ve called for an assembly.¡±


    The fat man looked nervous now, beads of sweat wiped from his forehead.


    ¡°The secret has been let slip.¡± He blurted out after a moment of silence. ¡°The Jacen boy knows, methinks. Went so far as to threaten me with the knowledge today.¡±


    He recounted what had happened to a hooded, shadowy crowd, stumbling over every few words. A pretty concise recalling, I had to admit from where I lurked, nestled into the trees and shadows.


    ¡°The brat thinks he¡¯s on to something.¡± Andres spoke after a few moments. ¡°If he really did know, there would be a legion of the crown¡¯s inquisitors here and we would be burnt corpses.¡±


    There were murmurs of agreement from the hooded figures.


    ¡°Still, we cannot be too careful. The culmination of our efforts is nearly nigh, and this cannot be allowed to interfere with that. Helcor, deal with it.¡±


    The town jailer nodded, visage stony and scarred.


    ¡°Terrance,¡± The thin man sighed. ¡°You have my thanks for bringing this matter to us in a timely manner. Stay behind after everyone leaves.¡±


    Now there came fear and dread on the man¡¯s face. The rest of the shadowed figures milled about and left, their business concluded. Only the two remained now.


    Shadowed and thin, the robed figure approached the sweating, rounded man. A pale hand he extended onto the fat man¡¯s shoulder, and I saw scales and claw where fingers should.


    ¡°You have made a mistake. Cost us dearly by way of your loose tongue and slack habits.¡± The claw tightened on Terrance¡¯s shoulder and the thin man bent over the smaller figure, his words harsh. ¡°Decades of preparation will not be ruined because of you, do you understand?¡±


    He got no chance to reply.


    Andres let go and sighed.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been a loyal member of the weyr, and to repay you by punishment would be a bad taste. This close to our grand day, we need all the manpower we can muster. You have faulted, yes, but there is redemption, child. Work hard, and you too will find the Dragon¡¯s mercy. Slip up again, and you will taste her flame.¡±


    The two left, and soon I alone was left to darkness.


    It was as I feared. Everyone here was complicit. All were members of the Cult of the Dragon.

 Chapter 4: Unveiled II.

    There was much to consider, and still much more to do. This I thought of as I lay awake at night, staring up at the ceiling of my family home. I now knew who the members of the cult were. The important ones, anyway. Who to be on the lookout for. These were the people that would set my home aflame, bring death to their neighbors and wipe all this away in the name of the Dragon.


    The fiery banner would light high, and all throughout the land, more would follow their example. The first herald of the endtimes. This land would become a pyre to herald Thraxidur¡¯s re-awakening, the ancient dragon of song returned to rule over these burnt lands once more. Here, from my home was where her cult would emerge and grow.


    The seeds of discontent were planted. Men and women were unhappy with the complacent rule of their kings and queens. The common folks suffered while forces greater than they held feuds and conducted wars for reasons they could not understand. The Gods had been silent as of late, and people took that as an ill omen.


    All of this had shaped this to be the perfect storm that raised high the banner of the Claw. It showed the world that if they did not march by their side, they too would be lit aflame. This was what had taken place in my past life. After great struggles, untold lives lost and far too many years, the dragon¡¯s horde had finally been quelled. And then it had been too late.


    This small town would spark a great, important moment in the history of the world. The first step towards damnation would be paved here, and the path would readily follow.


    These thoughts ran through my mind, over and over. The knowledge. The certainty. I would avert it.


    A letter, a warning to the Lordship would arrive far too late, or not be heeded at all. Lord Konada was the son of a king who¡¯s father had been King, as had many before him. A complacent man who took too lightly the dangers that would come, waved off distant foes as abstract thoughts and spent too much on celebrations of himself. His Hand, and the Inquisitors that worked under his banner were another manner. Thorough, vicious and zealous, but competent from what I remembered. Still, there was no way for me to get word to them in time. We were on the edges of the King¡¯s land, far away from any city of relevance.


    Who could I turn to? Many of the people I would have trusted, and gone to for help were revealed as traitors. Helcor was the town¡¯s law, the scarred jailer carrying out the will and writ of Lord Konada. Or so it would seem. I needed to steer clear of him and his deputies. They would haunt my usual hangouts. Likely come by the house and ask to speak to me, come morning. He was a careful, calculating man, one averse to risks. Avoiding his grasp would be a chore, I reckoned.


    No, not a chore. I thought to myself, almost viciously. It would be crucial. This was not some drunken game my younger, useless self would indulge in. This was life or death, lest there come darkness for my people.


    My people. I paused at the thought. For so long had I assumed responsibility for so many that to not be in a position of authority was strange. Countless lives had been entrusted unto me, and just as many had I let slip from my grasp through the years.


    I would do better.


    It was almost bitterly that I awoke and found myself downstairs at dawn¡¯s light.


    I could not wait for my parents to rouse themselves, and so I began the day. For too long had I taken their kindness and tolerance for granted. Even once I had reawoken, I did not share a loving moment with them. Now, I found myself cooking breakfast for them. A simple meal of sausage and vegetables, fit for any crusader¡¯s table.


    Thoughts invaded my mind as I sat alone, awaiting my parent¡¯s rise.


    Why did I do this? I had already endured a long life of hardship, of countless trials. Plagued by loss and regret and so much pain.


    These thoughts were a weakness. Cracks in the iron will that had carried me so far. My mood turned vicious as I cast them out. I would bear this all again, if only because it was my duty. The primordial being had granted me another chance, and it would not be wasted wallowing in self-pity and woe. If I had not a reason to continue on, I would find one. Forge one, if needed.


    I weighed whether I could tell my parents even as I heard them stir above. Inform them that they¡¯re friends and relatives were secretly traitors who worshipped an ancient cult that had not stirred in centuries. It sounded ridiculous when I phrased it that way. Their drunk, lazy son, the hero of man and returned to save the world? Father might question how much I had drank last night.


    There was little I could show them as proof. And so, though it pained me, I kept them in the dark. Ignorant to what was about to come. Not entirely.


    The darkness upon my face turned to a smile as my mother emerged from the stairwell, rubbing at her eyes. She stopped and stared in surprise, caught flat-footed by the breakfast already prepared. Her fair eyes lit up, and tanned skin twitched into a smile.


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    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be,¡± She remarked. ¡°What a surprise this is indeed.¡±


    My father followed soon after, and though he did not share mother¡¯s beaming smile, I could tell his mood had turned pleasant.


    ¡°I did not know you possessed the skills to cook.¡± He remarked. ¡°Though it seems to have inflated your britches a little.¡±


    It took a moment to sink in, and I bolted upright once the realization hit me. I had, simply out of habit, seated myself at the head of the table. Embarrassment was on my face while I mentally cursed myself for slipping up. Small mistakes like these might cost me.


    I let myself enjoy this small moment. A simple thing like breakfast with my parents, in the comforts of my childhood home. The doom and gloom of the outside world could wait. It needn¡¯t penetrate these walls, interrupt this short time of happiness I had garnered.


    Father prepared to leave as soon as the meal was done. Dawn had broken, and his mill called. Try as I might to let them go and be happily unaware, I could not bring myself to do it.


    ¡°Something foul is afoot in the town.¡± I spoke, face serious.


    ¡°Oh? What¡¯s occurred now?¡±


    ¡°I do not know.¡± I lied. ¡°But there are people who aid whatever is happening.¡±


    ¡°And what is that? How do you know of this?¡± My father asked pointedly.


    Yes, how did I, a known lout and drunkard, know about any of the town¡¯s affairs?


    ¡°Some of Lord Konada¡¯s men passed through yesterday.¡± I made up the tale as I went along. ¡°I overheard them speak that Helcor was to be investigated soon. They were unhappy with the work that¡¯s come from the mayor¡¯s office, and those close to it.¡±


    ¡°A harsh accusation.¡± My mother noted, eyebrows raised.


    ¡°Hence why I¡¯ve not spoken of it to anyone else. Yet it is my duty to pass this along to you, and hope you¡¯ll heed it.¡±


    With that, father departed for the day, a request left for me to join him at the mill. One we both knew would go unfilled.


    There was one more thing I needed to do before I left for the day. My mother left int he kitchen, I hurried back upstairs to my room. Under the solid frame of my bed, I yanked out the bundle that had been there for a week now, if I remembered correctly. A sack of cloth that jingled with coin, material and other things I had once believed I needed to begin my journey. Coin I had stolen from my parents with the vague promise to myself that I would one day return and make up for it.


    I could not risk this being found now. It would jeopardize my parent¡¯s trust, could possibly lead to being the final straw that would have me kicked out. I would not have that unknown variable drifting around something that could go wrong and spoil my relationship at home. It was with great care that I crept into my parents'' room, around the bed and towards the locked chest underneath my father¡¯s side. Ears open, I opened it and slowly slid the coins back into their rightful place.


    Mother bustled about in the kitchen, unaware of what occurred above her head. I had left the table and kitchen as-was, and it would take her some time to finish. She was a woman that, once she had started a task, refused to deviate until it was finished. Do it once and do it right, she oft repeated.


    Once completed, I slunk back into my room and stashed the bundle back to its original spot. No sense in leaving it in the open to raise any unwelcome questions. Halfway back down the stairs, a sharp rap at the door froze my movements. From where I stood, I track my mother¡¯s movement and heard her open it wide.


    ¡°Mrs. Farah.¡± Came the polite, soft voice of a man here to kill me. ¡°I¡¯m very sorry to disturb you and yours so early in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense, Helcor.¡± My mother beamed. ¡°What came I do for you?¡±


    The scarred, soft-spoken jailor, hand of the law in Novic and member of the Cult exchanged pleasantries with my unsuspecting mother and stepped inside, cap clutched in one large hand.


    ¡°Well, you see, I¡¯ve come here because young Jacen been getting into trouble again. I wish I didn¡¯t have to interfere, but the mayor¡¯s finally had enough of his crowd. There¡¯s only so much the decent folk can take, and after last night¡¯s incident, they want some justice.¡±


    ¡°Incident?¡± My mother demanded. ¡°What are you speaking of?¡±


    ¡°The boys got a little too drunk, from what I heard. Busted up the pub a bit, broke down a few doors. Scared some of the renters. I¡¯d let it pass, but we have some very angry, very influential merchants who are furious with the mayor and demand somethin¡¯ be done.¡±


    He spoke all this in a soft tone, one laced with just the right amount of sympathy. Had I not been in my own shoes, I might have even believed him.


    ¡°Now, you know that I don¡¯t hold much stock in outsiders tellin¡¯ me what to do and who to throw in the brig. Especially not some rich an¡¯ entitled city men. But orders are orders. Rest assured I won¡¯t handle ¡®em roughly and they¡¯ll be back out and about just as soon as these parasites leave the town. But I have a duty and it has to be done.¡±


    ¡°Fine, I suppose.¡± My mother groaned. ¡°Won¡¯t be the first time he¡¯s been in your cells anyhow.¡±


    My heart froze, and I began to back up the stairway. Helcor was far, far too big and strong for me to fight without a weapon. I needed to run.


    ¡°He¡¯s just set off for the mill with his father but a little while ago. If you hurry, you can catch them before they get started for the day.¡± She continued, tone laced with disappointment. ¡°I¡¯d wondered why he was so eager to get out of the house today. Shame.¡±


    With a tip of his cap, heavy footsteps led the man back outside, and silence fell about the house once he had left.


    They were hunting me, now. The dragon¡¯s weyr did not do things without commitment.

 Chapter 5: Unveiled III.

    ¡°Jacen, I need an explanation right now.¡± This, my mother demanded once the jailor had hurried away.


    ¡°I wish I had one to give.¡± I grimaced. ¡°I seem to have overheard things I was not supposed to be privy to, and he suspects it.¡±


    ¡°Enough to come to our house and arrest you?¡± My mother was a sharp woman, and now I needed to navigate that.


    ¡°It seems so. A little scare and shakedown to shut me up, most likely.¡±


    ¡°Go.¡± She gestured. ¡°He¡¯ll come back once he discovers you¡¯re not at the mill. That¡¯s almost certain. Make sure he does not find you until all of this has blown over.¡±


    It would not, I knew. I made that promise nonetheless. Once the words had left my mouth, I slipped outside and angled down the hill towards the town once more. Dew lay on the grass and the sun had barely breached the horizon as I strode through the morning¡¯s chill air, purpose in every step.


    Confrontation was inevitable. Conflict was all but assured. The manner in which it would happen I could not control, but I could prepare myself.


    I wondered if, beneath the facade, my parents could recognize the man I had become. The habits I had carried with me for a lifetime emerged now as I scanned about, gleaning knowledge from every glance. New horses stabled next to the town¡¯s inn. Dusty saddles and large packs. Those had been on the road for quite some time. New people, new variables that I did not know of.


    Beyond yesterday, everything I knew of the town was now new. I had left come this morning, in a past life. What would occur between now and the festival was entirely unknown to me. I needed different clothes, I first decided. The durable shirt and patched pants I wore set me out like a sore thumb to those that would be on the lookout for me.


    Best to assume the entire cult had their eyes open for me, and ready to send word to Helcor if I was spotted. That ruled off nearly a third of the shops in town. For now. Behind the tailor¡¯s modest storefront, I stopped and stared across the town, to the chapel on the hill. Andres would be there, as he always was, tending to plants and preserving the faith of Ignil, Goddess of the Dawn and of Nature.


    Soon, I would need to visit. For now, I needed a cloak or somesuch.


    In a town where everyone knew each other all their lives, there was little point to me hiding my appearance. Still, no need to make it overly easy for them either. Some coin and a bit of half-hearted haggling later, I emerged with a brown dust-cloak made of light material over my shoulder. It was not much, but good enough for me.


    Back to the pub I went, in search of knowledge.


    ¡°Jacen.¡± Rukso remarked as I passed into the Jackdaw¡¯s Crown. Not pleased to see me, I noted.


    ¡°Did Helcor and his men come looking for me?¡± The barkeep frowned at my question, no pleasantries given as I cut right to the chase.


    ¡°Looking? They nearly torn the door to yer¡¯ room right off the hinges. Who¡¯s going to pay for that?¡± He accused me, sullen. Thorough, then. Someone keeping an eye on me, perhaps?


    ¡°Did you tell them I was here?¡±


    ¡°Of course I did!¡± He exclaimed. ¡°Law comes looking for you with a vengeance and you think I¡¯ll cover for you? You might bring me coin, but not that much.¡±


    Far as I could remember, Rukso wasn¡¯t part of the cult, so I had reason to believe him. No reason to be careless, however.


    ¡°Weren¡¯t just satisfied with booting down yer¡¯ door, matter of fact.¡± He rambled on. ¡°Tore down half my rooms looking for you. Lost some good, new customers. Those adventurers told me they¡¯d not be staying in my walls for as long as they were in town. And through it all, all I could think was; what did he do to make Helcor that angry? Well, what did you do this time, Jacen? It ain¡¯t like Helcor to be this aggressive.¡±


    The Jailor had not waited till morning to pay our house a visit, it seemed. He had left the forest and immediately headed to where it was known I frequented. His methods showed me that this was being taken seriously.


    ¡°Where you headed now?¡± Rukso demanded as I stood and walked away. Silence remained my only answer as the door swung closed behind me. There was little point to bribing him for his silence. Anything I uttered to him would find it¡¯s way to Helcor, and through him, the cult. The barkeep would fold to the Jailor¡¯s questions, and I refused to let my once-friendship with the man jeoprodize my safety.


    Andres now remained the last obstacle I needed to deal with. As of current, I was human, and only that. No Path had yet been chosen, no powers granted. My body and the knowledge in my mind was all that I retained.


    It would be foolish to assume that the cultists did not have a Path either. Andres was a cleric of the Gods, with all the perks and powers that granted him. I judged that he would be the most powerful of the lot, but Helcor would not stray far behind.


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    What could I remember, however? The priest remained a figurehead of the town largely in virtue of the God he served. With his blessing, the crops grew bountiful every year. The forests provided plentiful game and growth because of Ignil, and his devotion to her.


    When the time came, he would cast off the Goddess and take up the mantle of the Dragon, forsaking his duties and Path. Until then, his powers would remain.


    Charm, the ability to sense life and control it, should it allow him to do so. This was all the memory yielded when I thought of Ignil¡¯s flock. Animals were his eyes and ears, and he could seize control of their actions. If I retained knowledge correctly, he could consciously control one at a time, unless he was far, far more powerful than I had reckoned.


    There remained no use in waiting. Every day that I bided my time, their plan grew closer to fruition. The need to act was now. Once I did so, there would be no going back. That thought did little to deter me. Out of the town I made my way once more, care taken to avoid the streets where I knew cultists set up shop. The open fields did little to provide cover, but there were no people about this close to noon.


    Still, the forest¡¯s veil gave some relief as it sheltered me. Into the river I dipped once more, careful to conceal my trail. A lifetime of habits stayed with me, and I made use of them well.


    The axe and the core remained where I had hidden them, buried and concealed in the thicket. One went into my hand, the other in my pocket. The choice to sit and admire some of nature¡¯s beauty was pushed aside as I set off, aware I would not get that luxury for a while after what I would do today. Not that I craved it anyhow. I had already seen too much, when it had been just me and the void left. Only a short few days ago, I had been wandering the wasteland that had been the ruins of this world. Those memories were seared into my skull, and this illusion of peace and happiness did little to dispell them.


    A healthy distance I kept between myself and the town as I circled it, cutting through fields and towards the hill that held Ignil¡¯s chapel. There were few people out and about today as the week winded down, most lazily tending the crops or excited for the coming festival. Few people meant fewer eyes that saw me, and fewer questions asked.


    Were I younger, then perhaps this would have spurred excitement or anticipation in me. About to commit such a serious act, on the cusp of revealing new and untold powers. In truth, there was perhaps some impatience in my step. After a lifetime of wielding power untold and having reality bend to my will, to be back in a body where all was silent was a torture.


    Force the ritual, kill the priest, reclaim my Path. Once this was done, I would once more wield the strength needed to overcome these agents of death.


    Simple, like the best plans were.


    Ignil¡¯s sanctum was surrounded by bloom and life. The grass grew lush here, hidden among the carpets of flowers and sweet trees that bore ripe fruit year-round. The air smelled..fresh and good and pure. Scents I had not beheld in a long time.


    So sweet was it, that I stopped for a moment to take it all in. Cloaked in brown, axe in my grip and blood on my hands. Like a wraith intruding on a fair garden. That image did little to halt me as I slid the doors open and stepped inside, quiet as could be.


    The chapel was grown from the ground up, living wood making up its space. Leaves and blooms grew on its walls, and fountains tinkled underneath an open roof, reflecting sunlight everywhere. Andres tended to the altar, fruit and wine and incense set alight as the daily offering. The Gods tasted the smell, and the rest was left for their followers, so it was said.


    His back was not stiffened, and his posture was relaxed, I observed. He remained unaware that I was close, for I was careful in my ways, and in my walk. A more foolish man might have barged in and confronted the priest to his face. That man would have died, likely. Eyes on the priest, I quietly moved to the side and began to work my way forward. Pillars of wood hid my form as I paced, axe in hand.


    The doors slammed open, and my spine stiffened. Instinct took me as I ducked, only to hear the sound of feet running through the chapel¡¯s center.


    ¡°The dungeon is dead!¡± Shouted a woman¡¯s voice. There was panic in her tone, laced into her words as she caught her breath.¡±


    ¡°Say it again, child. Slowly.¡± Andres¡¯ calm remained unbroken even in the face of such devastating news.


    ¡°The adventurers. They set off into the dungeon this morning. Came out right furious. Said the dungeon was dead and the core was gone! They¡¯re at the mayor¡¯s house, and they¡¯re angry!¡±


    A mental curse ran through my mind as I recalled what Rukso had said. Adventurers. The words had glanced off me, and in my focus I had paid little attention to them. The dungeon being discovered as dead so soon had not been what I needed.


    ¡°They¡¯re threatening to lynch the mayor!¡± The woman¡¯s voice continued, excited and fearful all at once.


    ¡°Well, we can¡¯t have that. Run ahead and tell them I¡¯m on my way. I¡¯m sure we can sort out any grievances they might, understandably, have.¡±


    The woman did exactly that. I listened as footsteps sprinted from the chapel, and Andres quickly turned back to the altar.


    ¡°Can¡¯t have that.¡± He quietly spoke to himself as I approached. ¡°Need the blasted fool for a while yet. Festival might get pushed off if he gets strung up.¡±


    With a sigh, the man began to heave himself up. The blade of my axe on the side of his throat stopped him cold.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think you¡¯ll be headed anywhere, priest.¡±


    The silence stretched on for several long moments before he finally spoke.


    ¡°The miller boy.¡±


    ¡°Is this your doing?¡± He continued, voice still level. My reply came when I pulled the core from my pocket and tossed it upon the altar.


    ¡°Should you want to live, you will start the Ritual of Paths, Andres. Right here.Right now. No formalities, no ceremony. Start it or die on the spot.¡±


    ¡°Is this a joke of some sort, boy?¡± He growled. ¡°Some drunken prank that¡¯s gone too far?¡±


    That thought left his mind when I seized his hair, jerked his head to the side and dug the axe into his neck.


    ¡°I¡¯ve no interest in your feigned ignorance, Andres. I know who you serve, and who serves the weyr with you. Your plans are known to me, and so are the plans of the dragon you follow.¡±


    ¡°Now, start the ritual, or I will send you to the God you pretend to serve.¡±