SMB25

Commander Engrame sneered.

"How?!" He was furious. Furious that the girl had, somehow, in some way, escaped his grasp yet again.

Scoutsman Kerl was on his knees, his forehead pressed to the ground. "Forgiveness Commander. I swear that I do not know how. But I shall find her.” He’d been apologizing ever since they had found him unconscious and all the horses gone along with a dead soldier.

Engrame huffed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. After pulling the girl up, staring at her, into those fierce silvery eyes, his heart had all but leapt out of his chest. Finally, after weeks of false leads, dead ends, dead bodies, he could finally go home with prize in hand. That it was tempting to just slit this little bitch's throat after binding her hand and foot and tossing her across the saddle of his horse was palpable. And so easy to do. But the Orom commanded her alive, if only to do the deed himself. The only one condolence he took was at least he would let Engrame watch.

He could finally go home. To his family, to his people. His people, not this dirty, inbred rabble, but men and women of civilization. Intelligence. Order. Obedience. He would be home. Soon.

That was the plan, at least, until they had awoke a few hours ago to find all the horses gone along with a dead soldier.

Clever, insolent little girl. How she had managed to unbind the ropes, and kill one of his men, an armed and armored man of war no less, released all the horses so they could not follow her, and somehow snuck past one of his best trackers without leaving signs of passage was.....unholy, unnatural, and almost impossible. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he knew that this same meek sounding little girl he’d seen walking along the Merchant Road earlier had somehow done this all on her own, by her own hand, was impossible. Had to be.

“Phayo!”

Commander?” Phayo said, bowing his head gently. His most trustworthy, and skilled tracker.

“Find her. You have leave to hunt. But I want her alive. If she travels with companions however. Execute them. And make sure she watches."

“Yes, Commander, by your will.” Phayo left the line and ran in the same direction the girl had escaped. Commander Engrame turned his attention back to his scout. The man still had his face buried in the dirt. Groveling and writhing in sheer terror for mercy. But a man who shows mercy shows weakness. A man who shows weakness shows fear. And a man who shows fear is a coward. A liability. A weak link. It was time to make the chain strong again, by removing the weak link.

Engrame stepped behind his scout, tucking his hands behind his back. "Up, Scout Kerl."

Kerl rose, straight-backed, his hands resting on his thighs, but before he could stand, Engrame knelt behind him, thrusting his dagger into the base of the skull, He gripped Kerl by his throat, steadying him as his blade punctured the man's brain, taking demonic delight as he twisted and turned the blade. And as the light in Kerl's eyes slowly faded, Engrame whispered gently in his ear one last time.

"May the Orom forget your name."

He let loose of Kerl's throat, standing as he pulled his dagger from the man's head. With a quick kick, he sent Kerl's lifeless body to slam face first into the dirt. "Let that be your grave," he spat as he turned and headed back to camp.





Central Duenin



The heat was unbearable. Sweat was dripping into her eyes, and she blinked furiously to relieve the sting. Even the shade here was no relief from the sun's brutality. Her mind wondered, longed for the cool mountain air of home, but reality settled and she knew that she had no home to return to. She wanted to sleep, but the images of Brigit and Hemi kept flooding her mind. There was Brigit in the center of the field of flowers holding up a bouquet of yellow flowers, a sweet smile on her little face. The light in her brown eyes faded as tears of blood streamed down her face. Her little mouth opening in a silent scream as flames surrounded her, engulfing her.

Sterling wanted to rid herself of the nightmarish images. She was exhausted. She’d been on the run from the Severon for nearly two weeks, hiding and avoiding any village along the way. She’d fled with no weapon, no money, and only the simple clothes she now wore. She had managed to steal food from a few isolated farmhouses along the way, but she hadn’t eaten in almost two days. If she was going to make it to Kai’Vari she needed to eat. And now here she was on the out skirts of Hemrac hiding among the hedgerow that lined the nearly immaculate cobblestone road for any signs of the Severon.

The village sat in a shallow bowl in the land surrounded by fields of wheat and corn. The hedgerow she lay under sat atop one of the rolling hills overlooking and leading to the quite village below. It was perfect for watching the comings and goings of the village inhabitants. She came upon this village last night during a storm and had hidden in one of the outlying barns for safety. She’d risen before the moonset and hid among the hedges before any of the citizens were up for their morning chores. She’d known that riding into any village on a horse branded by the Severon Militia was asking for trouble. Especially one with a saddle that no doubt had the seal of a commander's.

And so she left the horse at a farm and taken another one in its place. There had been no sign of the Severon or any other military patrols in the village since this morning and now that the noon sun had long since passed she felt safe to emerge from hiding. Her body screamed in protest as she stood from her prone position. She itched from not having a proper bath. Wading in streams and rivers was not the same as relaxing in steaming water. She felt the weight of the pouch she’d stolen from a wondering merchant; perhaps she’d treat herself tonight.

She made her way down the winding path until she reached the edge of the village. The main street ran from one end of the village to the other with streets veering off like tentacles. The main street was quite after the long afternoon of bustle. She made her way towards the only pub in the town, the Crow’s Head. She paused before entering taking a look over her shoulder for any followers. Satisfied she was alone Sterling pushed the door open and entered the darkened interior. She’d made a habit of not making a flashy entry, but no matter how quite her entrance she felt all eyes on her as the door swung shut behind her.

Sterling avoided eye contact with the other patrons and scanned the room. A booth in the far corner looked inviting. She walked the perimeter of the room keeping one eye on the pub’s customers as she slid into the booth. Her back was to the wall so she could see the entire pub. The smell of food cooking wafted into the dining room enticing Sterling. She had not eaten a proper meal in three days, not since she’d caught a rabbit with the pilfered bow and arrows she’d stolen

Hemi would have beaten her rear raw if he knew of all the things she’d done since she fled the orphanage. Her eyes lost focus as a thought of Hemi jumped to the fore front of her mind. He’d only been inches from her when he died. She swore that she would bring revenge down upon this Commander tenfold for what he’d done to Hemi. She missed them all so much she felt emptiness in her heart. Just breathing was painful when thoughts of Mother Anwell and Hemi and all the other girls came to her.

She missed Brigit most of all.

“What can I get you, miss?” The waitress words startled Sterling.

“Uh, ale, I suppose, and whatever food you have.” Sterling looked up into the plump face of the waitress. Her eyes were shining, cheeks rosy from the warmth of the pub. Sterling knew the instant the woman saw her silver eyes. The light behind her brown eyes vanished and the smile melted into a frown.

“We don't serve your kind here. I suggest you leave. Before I have you tossed out on your sorry ass”

Frustrated by the woman’s attitude Sterling plunked the bag of gold down on the table, “I have coin for food and bed.”

The wench simply scoffed and sniffed. "You money's no good here. I don't care if you have the Orom's personal gold crowns in there. We. Don't. Serve. Your. Kind. Now get the hell out of OUR pub."

Sterling narrowed her eyes and rose to meet the woman's glare. “I’m not leaving until you serve me.”

“We’ll just see about that” she growled as she pushed stepped back and through the swinging doors of the kitchen. Sterling replaced the pouch of gold back on her belt and stared out into the dining room. She realized then that she’d gained the attention of the other customers. She felt exposed without her hood to conceal her eyes. She averted her gaze to a scare in the wood table and tried to sink into the further in to the darkness.

“A what?!” Sterling jumped at the booming voice that came from the kitchen it was followed by a burly man that pushed through the swinging doors. “I’ll be damned if I serve a Devian in my inn.” Sterling sat up straight her eyes widening at the man that stood before her. He was a mass of blubber, hair and sweat. His white shirt was stained with food and filth. His round face was red from the heat of the kitchen fire. Meaty hands were propped on his rotund waist as he stared down at Sterling.

She stared up into his eyes that were nearly invisible behind the folds fatty skin. She was accustomed to fear and confusion when people looked into her unusual eyes, but this man looked down at her with hatred in his eyes. What had she done to deserve this man’s hate? It was not her fault he was an ignorant fool. Anger seeped into her skin as he looked down at her. She could feel her skin burning with the anger, muscles throbbing with the rising heat.

"What'd you do? Eat the Devian that walked in here?”

Sterling blinked and realized she was on her feet, as the man effortlessly gathered her up one handed by the scuff of her shirt, pulling her up until she was inches from his face. The man snarled. "Yeah, although judgin' by your skin and bone ass, you'll jus' be an appetizer."

"So much for country hospitality."

She turned her head to find a man standing next to her and the fat man. He had his hands pressed between them as trying to separate them. She looked down and felt her checks blush when she saw his warm hand pressed a little too conveniently against her breast. The "cook" spit on the floor and dropped her back into her chair. Great, Sterling thought. Try not to draw too much attention to yourself, oh gods the pub is the perfect place to lay low. Just another face in the crowd. She huffed and blew a stray strand of hair from her forehead.

“I'm not serving a godless Devian," the cook said, wiping his hand on the blood smeared apron that barely fit around his rotund waist.

“Bertrand,” the man had a smooth way of talking, though his accent was not Dueninian, “regardless of where she’s from her money is no different than yours or mine. Didn’t you just say the other day you needed more customers?” He had a smile on his lips as he winked at Sterling. “She’s a customer, so therefore your need her, am I mistaken?”

Bertrand pointed a sausage like finger at Sterling, “I don't care. I'm not taking her money."

The man thumbed a single gold bit at Bertrand. "Then take mine."

Bertrand caught the coin with swift, surprisingly nimble fingers. He huffed and finally nodded. "Fine," he glared down at Sterling, "but if you cause any trouble, my little hors d'oeuvres, I'll be serving you up to the mutts outside.” With a hefty huff he turned and retreated to the bowels of the kitchen.

“May I?” Sterling startled when she realized that the strange man was still standing next to her table. He seemed harmless enough with his blonde hair and blue eyes. She examined him for a moment before answering. She was wary, but he had come to her aid. Mother Anwell would scold her for not returning the favor and offering him a place to sit, but she told herself to be cautious. She motioned to the vacant seat and with a smile he melted his tall frame into the chair. “Name's Kellen, Kellen Leiten.” He seemed almost too cheerful. His blue eyes sparkled in the darkness as if there was some inner light behind them. He had a constant smile on his limps and his teeth were strong and white. Sterling was mesmerized by the aura that surrounded him. He was like a prince that had stepped out of one of Brigit’s fairy tales. His shoulders were broad and the white shirt he wore hung loosely on his muscular frame. He was so completely different than any other Dueninian she’d seen before.

“Berac.”

“Hmm?” Sterling shook herself from her daze long enough to say.

“I said, I’m from Berac," he said, smiling slyly. That explained the crisp throaty accent she noticed before. “Though, I’ve been her in Duenin for almost a year now.”

“Why so far from home?” Sterling’s curiosity got the better of her. Berac was to the far west and isolated by the Isanami Mountains. Sterling had only heard stories of Berac and its rolling hills of vineyards and the crystal blue water that ran along the coastline.

“Ah yes. Well my father thought me to take over the family business, and, well, he and I disagreed about that course. So, here I am finding my own way in the great land of Duenin.” He spread his arms wide as if the pub encompassed the entire world. “And you, you are not from around these parts either. What with those strange eyes of yours, I’d say your -”

“New Alden. I’m from New Alden.” She lied. Her heart was racing. She did not want to him finish his words so she cut him off and lied about where she was from.

“A beautiful city indeed and one full of excitement.” He stood when the waitress returned with a platter of food. “Well, I will take my leave then. Perhaps we’ll see each other again.”

“I doubt it.” Sterling said around a mouth full of roast. Mother Anwell would have slapped the food out of her mouth for such atrocious manners, but her stomach was empty and her need of food was far greater than any sense of manners she may have once had. Sterling watched him leave over the rim of her cup as she washed down the roast. He was an odd man indeed. Was he too cheerful? Perhaps that was the way of the Beracians.

She pushed Kellen Leiten out of her mind and focused it on the delicious meal that lay before her. Despite the cooks grotesque appearance he had a talent for food. The platter was filled with roasted beef, carrots, and potatoes. All of it was covered in thick beef gravy that gave off the aroma of rosemary. The portion was huge, enough for a grown man to stuff himself, but she was able to finish off the entire plate along with the bread that came along with the meal. She washed it all down with the tankard of ale the waitress had brought.

The waitress was still wary of her when she returned to take the empty platter, giving Sterling a wide berth and side glances. She jumped when Sterling asked for a room. “There is one available, but it’s the most expensive. It’s the last one on the right at the end of the hall.”

“I’ll take it.” Sterling said without hesitation. She was quietly thanking the rich merchant she pilfered the gold from. “I’d also like a bath brought up with hot water.”

Sterling stood the waitress backed away quickly with fear and confusion in her eyes, “A bath? But I’ve heard that when Devians get wet they turn into beast.”

Sterling couldn’t help but laugh, “First of all I have no idea what a Devian is, but I can assure you that I do not turn into a monster when I bathe, in fact it’s quite the opposite. I turn into one the dirtier I get.” She started towards the stairs that led to the upper rooms.

Sterling found the room the waitress and indicated and opened the door and stood dumbstruck. This was the most expensive? It was nothing more than an old worn out bed and a thread bare rug. There was a small table with a chipped wash basin. It smelled of old body odor along with other aromas that Sterling did not want to identify. Luckily the room had a window. Sterling bypassed the bed and threw up the window. The night was warm, but at least it let in some fresh air. The room over looked the stable yard of the inn and just below a short roof that covered the back porch where the kitchen was located.

There was a sharp rap at the door, “Your bath miss.” She opened the door to two men who brought in a large copper wash tub and two buckets of steaming water. The tub sat in the middle of the room on the threadbare rug and took up the majority of the empty space. The first boy reached into his pocket and handed her a bar of soap wrapped in a thin cloth.

“Thank you.” She said as she handed them each a gold coin. The light in their eyes told Sterling that the fat owner didn’t give them much in the way of wages.

Sterling was so excited she threw off her clothes and shoes as quickly as possible and stepped into the tub. It was large enough for Sterling to sit down and have the water come to her waist, the sides reaching up over her shoulders so just her head was above the rim. The water was hot and soothed her tired muscles. The heavy chain of she wore felt lighter in the water as the pendant that once belonged to her mother lay between her breasts. She lifted the stone out of the water and examined it in the light. Hemi had told her it had once belonged to her mother and that it was precious to her. What was so special about this stone? All it did now was remind her of what she’d lost. She’d thought about selling it for gold, but had stopped herself before going through with it. After all it was the only thing she had left from her old life. She let the stone fall in the water where it slowly sank and lay once again against her heart.

She sat there a minute relaxing for the first time in nearly three weeks. The Severon had dogged her the entire way. If she stayed in one place for too long they would inevitably show up and she’d be on the run again. But she hadn’t see them in three days and with no sign of them riding into Hemrac while she lay hidden in the hedge row she felt confident for the first time that she had finally lost their trail. Before the water started to grow cold she quickly washed the dirt and grime from her travels and dunked her head under the water. She thought about what would happen tomorrow. Where would she go next? She still had a ways to go before she reached Kai’Vari. Would she be able to stay ahead of the Severon? Sterling came up for air and turned her attention to her hair. Using the soap she washed the sweat and dirt from its long strands. Satisfied she dunked her head back under the water to rinse out the suds.

Once again she emerged from the water gasping for air. Soap ran into her eyes and she reached for the bath sheet one of the men had provided earlier. Eyes closed, she fumbled for it. She leaned and finally stood, naked to the world, as she reached and splayed her hands in in the air. She finally brushed up against it, at eye level. She furrowed her brow. Wasn't it on a small stool next to the bath the last time she saw it? She yanked and scrubbed her eyes furiously. And as soon as her eyes cleared and finally opened, it was in that instant she realized she was no longer alone in the room. Kellen Leiten was settled back on the stool, boots propped against the lip of the tub. That sly, handsome grin stretched from ear to ear, like a happy fox that had just gorged itself on the farmer's henhouse.

“What the hell are doing in my room?!” She wrapped the small, oh so small piece of cloth around her body. “How long have you been there?”

There was a knowing smile in his eyes. “Long enough to know you can hold your breath for a very long time.” Sterling could feel her cheeks start to burn.

She tugged at the bath sheet again and crossed her arms. “Show's over. Now get out,” She growled. The smile in his eyes quickly vanished as he advanced on her. Sterling’s heart rate went up a notch as she prepared to defend herself. But when he didn’t attack she was taken off guard. He went passed her and to the door. He opened it just a crack and listened for a moment. When he turned back to her he was a completely different person. His eyes were fierce and the smile was gone. He was no longer the jovial man that had rescued her earlier.

“The Severon are here.”

The words he uttered drained the blood from Sterling’s face. Her body went numb at the mention of the army that had doggedly tracked her like a fox. How had they found her? It had been three days since she last saw them. She’d been so careful to cover her tracks and to stay out of sight not venturing into any villages staying off the main roads.

“Quickly now, get dressed.” She heard his words from a great distance but she couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. She just stood there and watched as he braced the lone chair in the room under the handle on the door. He must have noticed she was not moving and came over to her placing his hands on her bare shoulders, “Sterling.” He gave her a quick shake. Sterling blinked at her name and came out of her fog, “Sterling, quickly now. Get dressed they are just down stairs. We can escape out the window, but you must get dressed.”

“Okay.” Her body started to move on its own. Ignoring the fact that Kellen was there with her she dropped the sheet and quickly pulled on her clothes. She regretted that they were still filthy, she had wanted to wash them as well, but there was nothing she could do about it now as she laced up her trousers and pulled the leather vest on over her white shirt. She sat down and pulled on her boots.

“Are you ready yet?” She could hear the impatience in his voice.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“Come on.” Kellen left his post at the door and climbed out the window. He held a hand out for her, but Sterling was frozen in place as the handle on the door started to turn. “Sterling.” He whispered forcefully.

When the door failed to open there was a loud knock on the door, “You in there open up.”

“Sterling.” Kellen reached back in the window and grabbed ahold of her arm and yanked her out the window just as the door came crashing in.

They were running towards two horses Kellen had waiting when Sterling heard a familiar voice, “She jumped out the window!” Sterling’s legs stopped on their own accord, she turned and looking out the open window was the man responsible for the death of everyone she loved. Commander Engrame. She felt a fire start in her heart, a fire of hate filled her body and she started to turn back to the inn. She was going to kill that man for what he’d done.

“You little.....bitch!”

“Sterling!” Kellen rode in front of her blocking her view of the window. “Get on the damn horse!”

She came to her senses and mounted the second horse. As they rode out of the stable yard she took one look back, but the Commander was no longer there.

“Who the hell was that?” Kellen yelled over the pounding hoof beats. Sterling glanced one last time back towards the fading image of the Severon Commander. This Commander Engrame. She finally turned back and whispered in Kellen's ear two simple words.

“A monster."
Source

He hadn’t seen her
.

Sterling was thankful for that small favor as she walked through the Sarno towards home. Now if she hurried she would be back before Hemi started missing her. If he found out about the Severon she was sure to be in trouble. He’d warned her dozens of times to be careful and avoid the Orom’s personal army. They were known for their brutality towards prisoners (and even towards people they consider allies). Hemi had always been careful of this, having hidden her in the cellar of the orphanage every time the Severon had paid a visit to Mother Anwell. At her young age she thought it was merely a game, but as she grew older she understood the risk Mother Anwell was taking by allowing her and Hemi to stay at the Orphanage.

Sterling pulled herself back from her musings when a rumble of thunder reminded her of the pending storm. She looked up through the soft green canopy of the tree line above, seeing the black and silver tinted clouds looming dangerously close. The storm was moving faster than she had anticipated, causing her to quicken her pace so wanting not to be outside when the storm unleashed its wrath upon the earth. As she ran she dodged limbs and clamored over felled trees, something she had learned to do all too well considering how primal the forest around her could get at times.

Still, the going was difficult as she made her way to the small road that led to the Orphanage. Out of the dense trees the way was much easier, but now she was exposed to the lightning that splayed across the sky. She reached a crest of a hill and paused for a moment to catch her breath. Though at times she was thankful that the Lady of Vale Orphanage was so isolated and remote from the prying eyes of civilization, yet at this moment she cursed the long hilly road that led to safety. She drew in a deep breath before continuing, but stopped when she heard the faint sounds of youthful laughter.

Sterling furrowed her brow. What were girls doing out here and so far from the Hall? She looked up again to gauge the storm's fury as she headed towards the sound. There were girls of many different ages that stayed at the orphanage and many of them liked to sneak off and play in the surrounding woods. It was often Sterling’s job to round the girls up for dinner. She knew of the clearing where the wild flowers grew and thought that may be were the girls were playing.

She made her way through the brush and came out into the clearing. She stood there for a moment watching. Elise and Grace, two of the younger orphans of the Hall (They arrived...what was it? Sterling thought; three, four seasons back?) were dancing about arm and arm and laughing as they made themselves dizzy. They were unaware of Sterling as they collapsed in a fit of laughter. Sitting nearly engulfed in the yellow field daisies interspersed with those soft white crane lilies was yet another, Brigit, one of the younger orphans by at least two years. She was busying herself collecting a bouquet from the flowers surrounding her, her small, yet surprisingly nimble fingers weaving and interlocking the stems into a very pretty looking wreath. Though she was listed as being seven, she was much tinier than even the toddlers, due in part to the illnesses she had endured in her early years. Sterling started towards the girls, “What are you three doing so far away from home?”

Elise and Grace’s heads popped up from the knee high flowers, smiles spread across their innocent faces. “Sterling!” They jumped up in unison and ran towards her. They nearly knocked her to the ground with their enthusiasm. “Brigit wanted to collect flowers, so we came with her.”

“These are for you Sterling.” Brigit stood and limped towards her, the wreath nearly as large as she was. She held it out to Sterling, (who noted that it mostly contained wilted petals) grasped in those tiny little fists. She was such a sweet child, having been left at the orphanage by her parents who were too poor to continue to look after her, her deformity in her legs and her continuing sickly health too much for them to maintain. Even though her right leg was shorter than the other, and despite the child's penchant for running week long fevers every two or three months, she was oddly energetic and virtually carefree.

Sterling had been sixteen when Brigit arrived and had fallen in love with the child from the moment Mother Anwell brought her in. “Happy Birthday, Sterling.” she beamed at her, showing Sterling a mouthful of gleaming white teeth. Sterling's initial disgruntlement literally melted away the moment she took the bouquet from Brigit, “They’re beautiful," she smiled down at her, "thank you Brigit.”

Thunder rumbled and shook the peaceful clearing. “There is storm headed this way, we all need to get back quickly before it gets here, quickly now,” Sterling half chided.

“Okay!” Both yelled as they ran off hand in hand towards the tree line leaving Sterling and Brigit behind. Sterling watched as they skipped together singing and laughing towards the tree line. They had been inseparable since they both arrived at the Lady of Vale five years ago.

“Come on, let us get back before this storm hits.” She took Brigit’s hand and started off towards the forest. Brigit held on tight as Sterling hurried through the forest and as the stepped out of the woods the rain began to fall. Thick drops the size of grapes pelted them as they scrambled up the steep hill. It was the last one before the orphanage, which lay just on the other side in a small valley. Lightning streaked across the sky followed instantly by a rumble that rattled Sterling’s teeth. They’d never make it at this pace, not with Brigit’s limp.

Brigit let out a giddy little squeal when Sterling lifted her up in her arms. Sterling chuckled in spite of herself as she raced down the hill, child in arm and making odd faces at Brigit as they both chuckled and tee-hee'd to each other. The ground had already become slick with mud, and there were a few times that Sterling thought she'd end up slipping and sliding down the rest of the way on her rump, but thankfully gained her feet and made her way down. The wind had picked up during the storm, sweeping fiercely over the hill and pushed Sterling from behind. The trees were swaying wild, groaning under the sudden shift, sending loose green leaves spinning and dancing in the wind. Brigit screamed as lightning struck at a tree about ten feet away, splintering it and sending smoking bits of bark scatter shot across the hillside. Sterling stumbled and fell to her knees, Brigit slid out of arms across the muddy path. Another bolt hit on the other side and the impact threw Sterling back.

“Sterling!” Brigit screamed as tears of fright rolled down her muddy cheeks. Her arms outstretched.

Sterling struggled to her feet, her body heavy after the impact with the hard ground. She scooped Brigit up in a running jog, trying to gain what traction the muddy earth had to offer and broke full out towards the safety of the orphanage. Mother Anwell and the others stood with awe and fear shining in their eyes as Sterling raced for both her and Brigit’s lives. The storm was directly over the orphanage.

“Hurry!” Hemi stood in the door way waving her to hurry. She forced her legs to dig in and made a final dash towards safety. She collided with Hemi’s solid body and turned to see a bright flash light the sky. A bolt of lightning hissed and cracked as it wound through the clouds and hit the ground where she and Brigit had last stumbled. A wave of shivers ran down her spine when she realized if she’d been a few seconds longer on the ground both she and Brigit would be dead.

“Are you alright?” Hemi asked his voice gruff.

“Yeah.” She nodded as she pushed muddy hair out of her face. She was covered in mud.

“Sterling.” Brigit’s small hand tugged at her arm. “You dropped your flowers.” She pointed out at the flowers that lay scattered across the muddy ground.

Sterling stooped down and hugged Brigit. “It’s okay, we’ll go tomorrow and you can pick another bouquet twice as big.”

“Alright” Brigit nodded.

“You’re both filthy!” Mother Anwell stood towering over them. “Off with you now, clean yourselves it’s almost time for dinner.”


The aroma of roasted rabbit wafted from open kitchen window. She could hear Sister Treva laughing with one of the junior Sisters that helped her in the kitchen. Sister Treva had been preparing for Sterling’s birthday feast all week and had promised to fix all of Sterling’s favorite dishes. She pushed open the door into the kitchen and her stomach promptly growled its anticipation.

“Such manners” Sister Treva scolded.

“It reacts to the smell of good food.” Sterling quipped as she stole a crust of bread from a bowl on the work table.

“Oy!” Treva swatted at her with a large wood spoon. “No stealing food before dinner.”

“Sterling," Mother Anwell stood in the doorway a stern look beamed at Sterling. “Don’t ever scare me that way again.” Sterling smiled at that the woman that ruled the orphanage with a firm, but kind hand. She’d heard those same words repeated numerous times over her life. It was always the same. She would do something stupid and Mother Anwell would scold her tell her never to scare her again. To which Sterling would do something stupid and Mother Anwell would scold her, yet again, and tell her never to scare her like that again. Sterling wasn't sure if Mother Anwell did it to simply goad her on to do it again, or if she was being genuine in voicing her concerns. Either way, Sterling mused, she probably shaved at least three or four years off the poor woman due to worry and anxiety alone.

Still, she was thankful for the old woman for giving her and Hemi a place to live. They had arrived at the Orphanage when Sterling was just six. Hemi had found out about the caretaker job from the owner of the Scarlet Bull. They had been here ever since. Sterling had no memory before coming to the orphanage only that few piece that Hemi told her of moving around from place to place finding work so he could feed her.

“Take these to the table.” Treva handed her a platter of roasted carrots and potatoes, “Then call everyone to the dinner.” Sterling carried the heavy platter and placed in the center of the table that was already covered in all her favorite dishes. Her stomach growled again at the sight before her.

“It smells good.” Brigit said as she walked into the dining room.

“Yes it does. Treva has outdone herself this time.” Sterling said as she walked through the house to the diner bell that sat on a table in the foyer. From the very beginning it had been her job to call the girls to dinner. As a child she’d barely been able to lift the large bell, but now the worn wooden handle fit comfortably in her hand. She lifted her arm and swung the heavy brass bell up and down announcing that dinner was served.

“Happy Birthday, Sterling!” The chorus of cheers rang out across the dining table. Treva’s meal had been delicious as usual and Sterling was happily satisfied by the food. Brigit sat in her lap her arms around her neck as she kissed Sterling on the check. “Happy Birthday.” She whispered into Sterling’s ear. The younger girls all gathered around Sterling as Hemi told embarrassing stories of when she was a child. It seemed that her birthday celebration had turned into a recounting all the embarrassing things Sterling had done over her lifetime. But it was because she felt comfortable in this setting that Hemi would tell the stories he told. He knew how uneasy she was in large crowds and having people stare at her

At first, as a child, when new girls came to the orphanage they would steer clear of Sterling and her silver eyes. At first it seemed to pain Sterling to no end to have it happen. To be the social pariah, especially in an orphanage of all places, was something a child should never experience. But over time, despite her differences, the girls had befriended her, only to be adopted by a family and never seen again, causing Sterling to start over again with new friends repeating the same thing every time, it got to a point that Sterling would be mean to the new girls just so she wouldn’t have to go through the heartache of losing another friend. But as time went by the loneliness of not having any friends at all became too much for her.

Now, fifteen years later, here she sat with a gaggle of girls wishing her a happy birthday. She loved each one of them for the joy they brought, but it still broke her heart when one would leave with their new family. “Sterling promise you will help me pick a new bouquet for you tomorrow.” Brigit pulled on a strand of Sterling’s dark hair.

“I promise.” Sterling returned Brigit’s kiss.

“Sterling.” She turned when Hemi’s gruff voice broke through the squeals and laughter of twelve girls gathered around her.

“Yes Hemi?” she replied softly.

“I need to talk to you for a moment.” His tone was off. She knew immediately that something was wrong. He turned and left the dining room expecting her to follow him.

Sterling lifted Brigit off her lap and gave up her spot to the girl. She said her goodnights to Mother Anwell and followed the hall that Hemi had taken to the Mother’s study. “Close the door.” Hemi said with his back to the door. She could see his reflection in the window. There was a sense of nervousness she’d never seen expressed in his face before. His hands were clasped behind his back. He was a giant of a man that had been her rock since as far back as she could remember. He was always steady, never faltering.

“What’s going on?” Sterling asked as she closed.

“Sit Down.” Sterling could feel the blood drain from her face. Had he found out about her confrontation with the Leyenese? She knew if he discovered it she would be in big trouble. It was best to face up to it now and get it over with than let his ire grow.

“About that,” She started, “I know shouldn’t have gone so far sou-”

“I’m not your Uncle.” His words cut into her explanation.

"What?” She laughed, thinking she had misunderstood him.

He repeated his words and she could tell by his tone that he was telling the truth. “I don’t understand. Of course you’re my uncle. Father and Mother died in a fire when I was a baby and you brought us here”

He finally turned to face her, “Your father was a Kai’Varian warrior, and I, was his slave.” Sterling’s ears began to ring as Hemi’s words sank in. Her father was a Kai’Varian? How could that be? Hemi was a slave? None of it made sense.

“Is this some kind of joke?” The look he gave her told Sterling that he was not joking. There was pain in those stoic eyes. “You’re not joking are you?”

“No,” was all he said. It was enough.

Sterling felt her knees give out and she slumped into one of the plush leather chairs that lined the wall of the study. “Your father, Khort Rin’Ovana, was a Kai’Varian warrior and a Veillen High Guard. I was given to him as a slave after my unit had been captured crossing into Kai’Varian territory.”

“I don’t understand.” Sterling stared at Hemi’s feet afraid to see the truth in his eyes, “Hemi, I don’t understand any of this.”

“On the day you were born there was a fierce battle between the Veillen and the demon graekull, your father died protecting your mother’s body. She- ” He paused for a moment, “She died giving birth. To you.”

“But why bring me here?” Sterling stood, “Didn’t my father have any family to raise me?”

“The Kai’Varians- ”

Hemi was interrupted when Sister Treva came bursting through the door. “Oh thank the heavens I found you.” She was out of breath and her face was devoid of color.

“What is it? What the matter?” Hemi asked, his face once stoic now fading into worry.

“It’s bad. The Severon are here," Treva warned, "they are looking for a girl with silver eyes.” Both Hemi and Treva turned to Sterling. “Mother Anwell is keeping them in the occupied, we must hide you.” The Severon? Sterling’s heart raced as she followed Hemi towards the back of the house. Was it the same cruel man that had killed Motego and Franto on the merchant road? How could they have found her? Especially here, of all places?

She was certain he had not seen her eyes that day. Had someone given her up to the Severon? No one is Shee trusted the Orom’s army so she doubted they would willingly divulge her location. “In here.” Hemi easily pushed the heavy dining table out of the way and threw back the carpet revealing a hidden door. He pulled up on the iron ring opening the door to the root cellar. She’d been in this side of the cellar once before during a visit by one of the Orom’s envoys. She disliked the closed-in feeling she got in this room, it was like crawling into your own grave. But knowing that Hemi could get her out quickly once the Severon were gone made the decision less overwhelming

“Hurry.” Sister Treva urged, “Mother Anwell cannot stall them much longer.”

Sterling slid into the dry root cellar and sat, pulling her knees close to her face. It was a long room that spanned the length of the house and the only other entrance were the cellar doors that let out into the kitchen garden. She took one last look at Hemi and saw the fear and concern in his eyes. He winked one last time, a smirk crossed his lips. Forced, Sterling thought, but oddly reassuring nonetheless. It was like he was telling her not to worry, that he would take care of everything just like he always had. Dozens of times before. Yet that tingling sensation of dread kept trying to crawl into her brain. This just seemed....different than all the other times. This one felt real. He closed the door and replaced the carpet. Dust rained down on her as he pushed the large dining table back into place. And that sense of being buried alive began to bleed through her resolve.

The root cellar was pitch-black except for the a few places where the slates of the floor had been worn away. Dust motes floated in the meager light that forced it way through the tiny holes. Sterling could hear the footsteps of the approaching Severon. Their boot heels struck the wooden floor with a decisive staccato. The softer footsteps of Mother Anwell followed the men into the dining room.

“There are rumors that you've been harboring Devian outlaws. Rumors that they have been living here for quite some time, as a matter of fact, and I tend to believe the rumors from a man who no longer has to worry about counting to ten.”

“But milord, there is no one here. We are just a simple orphanage.”

“And I am a simple soldier following the Orom's edicts. If you say there is nothing here, then you should not have a problem with us searching for what is not here.”

There was a short pause, “Go-go right ahead Commander, we have nothing to hide here.”

“Then you have nothing to be worried about. Search this build from top to bottom. Every room, every closet. Every chest. You there, search the farm house and the bathhouse.”

A chorus of yeses was followed with retreating footsteps. Where was Hemi? Had he returned to the farm house?

“Mother Anwell, how many girls do you have living here with you?”

“Twelve milord.”

“And their ages?” Sterling had a sinking feeling come over her. Why would he ask such a question.

“They range from seven to thirteen.” Sterling could hear the hesitation in Mother Anwell’s voice. What reason would this man need to know the ages of the orphans?

“I’d like to see them, all of them. Bring them here before me.”

“But, Commander the girls are asleep.” There was nervousness in Mother Anwell’s voice that was not usually present. She was a strong woman.

“That wasn't a request. You will do what I ask or I will yank them all out of bed myself and the......pleasantries we are exchanging now will come to an end.” This commander fellow thumped something heavy on the table above her. Sterling jumped at the sudden bang, covering her mouth to keep from crying out after knocking her head against the wood planks. A silence came over the room as the commander waited for the girls to gather. Sterling silently changed positions until she was directly below one for the cracks in the flooring. She could just see through it and into the dining room above her. He was sitting in one of the high backed chairs that lined the room. He had an air about him that frightened Sterling. That cold, unfeeling killer instinct that seemed to twinkle in the light. Oh yes, Sterling thought, he was the one she’d see on the Merchant Road. The one that had murdered Motego and Franto.

There was a long quite pause while Sister Treva roused the girls from their beds. Soft footsteps filed in to the room along with confused questions. “But I’m sleepy.” Tears gathered when Brigit’s tiny voice protested being woken.

“Don’t worry little one, you will again sleep soon.” The kind voice belied the cruelty Sterling knew lied within the Commander. “They are all very sweet and innocent aren’t they gentlemen?” He addressed the question to the men that had returned with news that they could not find anyone matching Sterling’s description.

He stood and his boot hells struck the floor with a quite anger. “What is your name little one?”

“Brigit.” Brigit answered without any fear.

Sterling put her hand over her mouth to mask the heavy breathing. Her heart was racing so fast she thought she would faint. Oh please don’t hurt Brigit. She begged quietly. “Brigit. That is a nice name.” His voice grew louder; he must have stooped down to be eye level with the little girl. “Tell me Brigit, does someone live here with silvery eyes?”

“Uh,” Brigit hesitated. Mother Anwell had told all the girls to never mention Sterling’s silver eyes to anyone. Sterling prayed Brigit would remember the rule. Her eyes shut waiting on the little girls answer. Please, please, please. “No I don’t know her.” Sterling released a thankful breath at Brigit’s answer, she’d remembered.

“No? Ah well. That would be disappointing to most. But you said her. I only mentioned a person with silver eyes.” Sterling’s eyes flew open at the Commander’s soft voice, "I see I've been lied to. By both a child and a mother." Sterling's heart seemed to be pounding so hard against her chest that at any moment it might burst through. “No more lies. No more games. No more pleasantries. You are harboring a Devian, and you will tell me where she is. Or you will be....punished!"

“Please milord, she’s just a child!” Mother Anwell pleaded for Brigit.

“All the more reason for you to cease your lies.”

“You’re hurting me!” Brigit’s tiny voice squealed out.

“Tell me where the Devian is and I’ll let this little one go. Her fate is in your hands Mother.”

"Ok. Please. I'll tell you everything. Yes! Yes there was a girl with silver eyes who lived with us. For a time. She-she left two days ago, said something about people looking for her. I guess she was right. Because here you are. Looking for her."

"Where did she go?"

"East, last I saw. Though the wood. That's all I know, sir. Now please, please let her go."

There was a long, tense pause. Finally the Commander nodded. "See? Was that so hard?"

He looked gently at Brigit, deep into those small, innocent eyes. He smiled lightly to her, cupping the side of her head as he reached for whatever was on the table. "You should never lie to your elders, child. But you knew no better."

He patted her head once before resting his hand on her small shoulder.

"You are......forgiven."

The dagger point punched through her small body. Blood pooled quickly from the wound in her back. Brigit made a small sort of "urglk" noise. Her knees buckled, and she landed hard face first on the floor, staring down at Sterling with one pale blue, lifeless eye.

“YOU BASTARD!!” Hemi roared above as what sounded like a scuffle ensue.

“Hemi, no!” Mother Anwell screamed. A loud slouching thump shook the boards directly above her head. Screams from the girls filled the room, almost drowning out the last words she would remember Hemi ever uttering to her.

“Sterling.” Hemi’s whisper reached her over the yelling, “You must go to Kai’Vari.” He had trouble forming the words, his breath was shallow.

“Who are you talking to?” The question was followed by a pained grunt and the point of Engram’s sword penetrating the floor board nearly slicing into Sterling hand.

Sterling covered her mouth to keep from screaming. No. She shook her head in denial. Oh gods no. This man was a monster. A butcher. Brigit, Hemi. No. No. No. They were only inches from her; on the other side of the floor board was the man that had raised her. Her hand went up and touched the wood that separated them. Blood began to seep through the cracks covering her hand and dripping down onto her face. Tears mixed with the warm viscous liquid as images of Hemi filled her mind. He was her rock, the person that kept her world together when she fell apart. He was always there guiding her in the right direction when she veered. And dear, sweet Brigit. This child of ill-fortune, a pure soul that had never, ever caused harm to any living being in her life. Both of them. Both of them were now dead.

“Hemi!” Sister Treva’s voice invaded the roar that had filled her head, “Hemi!”

“Where is the girl!?” Engram yelled.

I’m here! Sterling wanted to yell out, but the words would not form. If she revealed herself he would leave the children alone. But no matter how hard she tried to yell out her voice remained silent. “I know she is here somewhere and if you will not tell me where she is hiding then we’ll simply smoke her out. Lock them in the chapel and burn it to the ground, burn it all to the ground.” Engram ordered his men.

“Yes Commander.”

“No. You mustn’t they are only children.” Mother Anwell pleaded.

“I gave you a chance Mother, which is more than what I would have given even to my own blood. Forgive me, but your lies have doomed you all.”

“But there is no one here milord!”

“Enough,” he said dismissively at her. His footsteps retreated followed by the tiny screams of the orphanage's girls. Sterling could hear Mother Anwell and Sister Treva plead and beg and finally curse as they were pulled from the room. She had to get out; she had to save the girls. If she turned herself in he would surely let the girls live. Sterling tried pushing on the door hoping she could knock the table over, but its weight was too much. She’d have to use the doors that led to the kitchen garden. It was difficult to find her way, the cellar was pitch black with only a minute amount of light seeping through cracks in the floor board. She knocked her head on the floor above her when the ground started to rise. She tried to find a way around, but no matter where she went there was no room, she would have to squeeze through on her stomach.

She exhaled and squeezed her head and chest though the small space and with arms out in front she pulled herself through the opening. She was half way through when the distinct smell of smoke reached her. It was then that she realized that it was no longer light that seeped through the floorboards, but the light of uncontrolled flames. Her struggles to get out of the cellar were renewed. She’d die in this dark lonely place if she didn’t reach the cellar doors. She used both hands and feet to pull and push her way across the narrow opening. Her nails dug into the hard earth until finally she was free and tumbled into the larger area of the cellar. She able to walk hunched over now instead of crawling on hands and knees.

The smoke had thickened and Sterling could no longer hold back the coughs. She was bent over wracked with coughing. Her eyes burnt from the noxious fumes. She wiped the tears and found the doors that would lead her to freedom. If she could make it to the chapel in time she’d be able to free the children. The door was heavy, but she finally threw it open and struggled up the stone steps and into the warm night. She lay there for a moment catching her breath until the smoke started billowing out of the underground opening. She pushed herself to her feet and leaned against the railing of a fence. Sterling took a deep cleansing breath and started towards the chapel.

Her feet started running, the urgency she felt was overwhelming. She reached the side of the house and ran in to the open yard between the chapel and the main house. The site before her brought her to her knees. Tears welled in her eyes and down her cheeks. No. No. No. She repeated to herself over and over. Nothing remained of the chapel but a few smoldering embers. The roof had collapsed and the walls had followed suit burying anyone inside under the flames that had engulfed tiny building. The uncontrolled sobbing shook her shoulders as the thoughts of Brigit entered her mind. “Brigit. Why? It’s my fault. It’s my fault.” She whispered to herself.

Anger welled inside of her bursting out in a rage. She punched the ground nearly breaking her hand. “No!”

“Well, well, well. What have we here? It seems I've scared up a cellar rat.” Sterling turned her head and looked over her shoulder. A Severon stood behind her, his arm crossed in an intimidating pose. A smirk creased his lips as he looked down at Sterling. "This ends here little Devian. This ends tonight."

"This ends with your death...."
Source

The cicadas were singing again.



Commander Remus Engrame noted as he and his men made the long journey along The Riuukan Pass towards the highlands of Northern Duenin. How he hated Northern Duenin. The weather was unpredictable – snowing one moment and violent storm the next. He never understood how the peasants survived up here in the foothills of the Isanami Mountains. They were uneducated farmers and merchants that lacked any sense to move away from this harsh environment. 'Maybe it makes them think they're hardy and stout folk to survive in the ice and snow,' he mused. But to him, it only made him cold. And he detested the cold.

And it seemed that the cicadas around him felt the same way. When they first began to emerge from their long dark slumber, their chorus had all but resounded throughout the lowlands. Eerily haunting, yet vibrant and strong. The last time he heard them echo through the valley, he had been an unscarred private. Seven years later, he was now Commander of the Northern Arm. Time never seems to collect in a man's mind until nature reminds him that it does. But the closer he came to his destination, the quieter the days and the nights had become. It appeared that the cicadas hated this place as much as he did.

Thankfully, once his mission was over he could return to Sionaad. To warmer and more inviting environments. But, more importantly, to his family. And for a time, before his liege called him once more to tarry forth their will, he would enjoy the dry clear nights with his wife, as he listened to the cicadas' melody before they disappeared once more.

But his mind must be in the now and present, for the mission at hand. The Orom had sent him on this trek to the far north after hearing rumors of a Devian spy seen in the trade city of Shee. As any man, he was curious. Why hadn’t the Orom sent one of the lesser ranked soldiers? This task was beneath his rank. In fact, it was far too showy. A smaller unit would draw less attention, and draw far less comment that would tip off their potential target. It made him wonder, but never question. If the Orom demanded him to march a small army, then that is what he would do. Regardless of whether or not it made sense, logically or tactically.
By mid-day he and his men had made their way to the city. In this drab and lifeless looking hamlet with their drab and lifeless looking people. Immediately, he began asking the various merchants whose booths lined the streets if they’d seen anyone with silver eyes around the city. Most had shaken their heads, but a few had pointed towards the pub at the end of the street. 'Typical' Engrame sighed. 'Not a coin to spare for taxes, but they always manage to drown their woes in ale and wine.' Engrame sneered lightly and pushed open the door into the Scarlet Bull.

The pub was crowded with merchants and farmers filling the many tables and booths throughout the main room. The room was filled with smoke and the smell of stale bear and sweat. It was enough to make a lesser man sick. And, judging by the looks of more than a few of his recruit's faces, it looked like they were about to be.

“Spread out.” He ordered the men that had accompanied him from Sionaad. The room went quite as his men took up position throughout the room. He scanned the commons examining the occupants – weathered and cold warn farmers and merchants stared back at him. It was no secret the Northerners detested the Severon. Even though the cleansing of foreign blood had taken place over fifty years ago, many Northerners still remembered the war the Orom had waged against those that had invited the Na’Durians and Leyenese into their homes. Even if the King would not push out the vile foreigners the Orom would.

The dining room returned to its normal bustle as he turned from the room and approached the bar. The barkeep appeared nervous, avoiding eye contact. “Ale for you, my lord?” “A Devian has been seen in this area.” He said ignoring the man’s question. The barkeep tensed at the statement. “Haven’t seen one.” His eyes darted past Engrame’s shoulder and then quickly back.

Engrame turned to where the barkeep motioned and scanned the area. His eyes stopped on a girl in the back of the pub. A hood was pulled low over her face; she sat next to an older man in a darkened booth. They were in deep conversation oblivious to the happenings of the pub. He moved away from the bar towards the booth side stepping a waitress and drunken patrons along the way. He was almost on them when he noticed the pendant resting between her breasts. He sucked in a breath when he realized what she wore around her neck. Could it be what they had been searching for? Could a shard have been hiding like this in plain sight? The Orom would be very pleased with him if he returned to Sionaad with a shard of Abaddon. Engrame continued towards the girl, but paused again when she looked up and the hint of silver glimmered beneath the woolen hood. She was a Devian? Could his luck truly be this great?

He silently motioned for his men to be ready. They could not let this gem escape. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword and continued towards the back of the dining room. They were unaware of him; things could not be any more perfect. With this one the Orom would truly give him praise and a promotion. He’d been scouring the country for these damn shards and here sat not only a shard but a Devian. He couldn’t help the smile of triumph that crossed his lips.

He slowly unsheathed his sword and took another step towards the back table. Ten more steps and he could leave this awful place. He had his sword out of the sheath when suddenly two drunken patrons started yelling and one shoved the other into Engrame throwing him off balance and into one of his men. His sword was knocked from his grip and skittered across the rough planks.

“Commander!”

He shoved the two drunkards off him and angrily took back his sword from his subordinate. He turned back to the booth, but the girl along with the man had vanished. “Damn it! Spread out and find them!”

He sheathed his sword and stepped outside into the bright sun. There was no sight of the old man and the girl. Were they tipped off? They hadn’t shown any indication that they’d seen him and the other Severon, but perhaps they had and escaped right at the last possible moment when he’d been distracted by the two drunkards. He turned back to the dining room and found two men passed out in the corner.

“Wake up!” When neither responded he kicked the smaller of the two men, “I said wake up!”
“Hey! What did you kick me for?” The man rubbed his face and looked up Engrame his face went deathly white when he realized it was a Severon Commander standing over him. “Oh begging your pardon milord.” He stood and brushed off the dirt from his filthy trousers.

Engrame stepped closer to the man and whispered in his ear. “Pay attention to what I have to say to you. There was a woman sitting at that booth, she had silver eyes. What do you know about her?”
“You lookin for Sterling?” There was a puzzled look on the man’s face, “Yeah she shows up here with her uncle on occasion. They deliver vegetables and such to sell here in Shee, but that’s all I know. I swear.”

“What is her surname?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard it said before.”

Engrame was losing patience with this backwoods farmer, “Where is their stall?” The drunkard slurred and tried to cower even more, almost to the point that if he cowered any more he'd be kissing his own stomach. “As far I know they don’t have one. They deliver to the pubs in and around Shee.” Engrame pushed the man into the wall and drew his dagger. Pressing the blade into the man’s tanned neck he snarled a threat. “You know more than you are saying. Tell me what I want to know.” The drunkard was on the verge of tears. “I-I don’t know any-anything else, milord. I sw-swear,” he stammered and blubbered out. The man had broken out in a sweat; his face was red with fear. He was grasping at straws, trying to deflect the Commander's hate. With a quick gasp, inspiration (amidst perspiration) finally struck him. “The-the barkeep might know more! They-they deliver here as well.”

“Commander.” Engrame released the man and turned. Scout Phayo had returned from tracking. “We lost them in the crowd Commander. We followed them all the way to the market placed and they just disappeared.”

Phayo was his best tracker, probably the best in all of the Northern Arm. Interesting, in how they had managed to lose him so completely and so....fast. Fleeting thoughts madeits way through his mind. Did they see him? Did this squabble hide their trail? From the best tracker in his unit? No, even though the girl had looked up she never actually glanced his way. One last thought found focus in his mind. The shard around her neck. Damn it. He had to find that girl. She was too important to his career. He pushed the farmer away and turned his back to Phayo. He had to think. The farmer said they delivered vegetables to the pubs around Shee, including this one.

A snarl touched his lips as he looked at the barkeep behind the bar. He would have the information one way or the other. “Get the horses ready. We'll know where they are soon enough,” He said to Phayo as he started towards the bar.

“Commander!” Engrame paused when Kerl, one of his other trackers came to a halt beside him, “We heard back from our informant. A merchant has been found smuggling Devians out of Duenin and into Leyene. His last know whereabouts were on the merchant road that connects Shee and New Alden.” Engrame nodded and dismissed Kerl.

Engrame slid quietly into a seat directly in front of the bartender. Slipping a hand down at his side he drew forth his dagger and laid it gently on the bartop in front of him. Resting his elbows on the counter, he gestured to the barkeep. "Tell me what I want to know, and maybe I'll leave you with just enough fingers to wipe yourself with......"



Two Days Later

She was lost. How could she get lost on this day of all days? Hemi was going to kill her if he found out how far she’d ventured from the orphanage. He’d sent her out this morning to hunt rabbit for tonight’s meal, a birthday celebration for her twenty first. But when she couldn’t find any rabbits in the surrounding forest she’d traveled further south than normal. Now in this unfamiliar area of the large Sarno forest she was completely turned around. Where was that path she’d taken into the forest? She remembered a tree that was split in a fork at the end of trail, but now she couldn’t find the only land mark she recognized.

“Damn it. Hemi is going to kill me.” She said as she ducked under a branch and scanned the forest. She knew she was headed north by the location of the sun in the sky and the mountains to the north, but how far had she traveled away from the path? She continued north knowing eventually she would reach the Merchant Road that connected Shee and New Alden. Sterling paused when a distant rumble of thunder vibrated the silent air of the forest. “Great, just want I need.” The urgency she felt at finding her way out of the southern Sarno increased with the threat of an oncoming storm.

The forest began to thin and she eventually stepped out of the solitude of the forest and on to the hard packed and rut filled Merchant Road. A sign post pointed west to towards New Alden. She heaved a sigh; she had traveled farther west than she had first thought. But the sight of the Merchant Road was a welcome relief. If she hurried she’d make it back to the orphanage before Hemi started missing her and hopefully before the storm got any closer. She glanced to the south and the high clouds of the storm rose threateningly to the heavens. Lightning flashed through the clouds as if warning Sterling it was coming for her. She pushed the storm out of her thoughts and started walking east towards the road that would lead north towards the orphanage and safety.

The Merchant Road was a busy thoroughfare that allowed for safe travel between Shee and New Alden. As she made her a way down the deeply rutted road she was passed by merchants and travelers on their way to and from the Shee. It was a major commerce center for Duenin due to its location near the border with Leyen. Leyen was within a day’s journey so merchants and farmers from their northern neighbor brought their goods to Shee.

She was cautious when one of the caravans passed by for it wasn’t uncommon for corrupt merchants to kidnap young Dueninian maidens for the purpose of slavery. They’d sell them off to the Menazarin, the rich nobility of Na’Dur where they would live out their lives as captives in their master’s harems. It was good that Hemi had taught her how to wield a knife and how to protect herself. She felt safe enough as she made her way toward home, but it would not hurt to be cautious.

Thunder rolled in the distance masking the sound of a wagon laden with knickknacks rattled to a stop beside her. It was a Leyenese merchant’s wagon. They traveled the countryside selling their wares hoping to entice unsuspecting suckers into buying useless knickknacks they didn’t need. Sterling continued to walk as the wagon kept pace with her. She glanced sideways and found all manner of wares dangling from hooks and ropes, cooking utensils to toys for children and brightly colored scarves to attract the young ladies of Duenin. Sterling knew that not all Leyenese merchants prowled for desirables to sell in the slave markets, but those that were hid their agenda behind the many legitimate goods they sold off the back of their wagons.

“Give you a ride vishca?” The drive asked as he kept measure with Sterling’s pace.

Vishca? That was an endearment in Leyen. Hemi had made sure she could speak several languages, especially those of countries that were not always friendly to Duenin. He taught her to always know your enemies and that included their language. Sterling gave a sideways glance at the man driving the wagon and gave a cautious, “No thank you.” Ignoring her he continued to ride along side of Sterling. She did not look at him, but kept him in her peripheral vision, keeping her body ready in case she needed to run.

“Come vishca, I have plenty room for you. Where you like go?” He patted the empty place beside him. “I’m fine. Thank you.” She said again. “I insist, let Motego give you ride. You go to Shee? Come I take you.” His tone had risen as if the excitement of her riding beside him was almost too much.

She could feel her temper rising. She finally lifted her head and looked at the man, “I said I was fine, now please leave me alone.”

“Very well vishca.” He nodded and jerked the reins veering the horses in front of Sterling blocking her way. “Now, you come with Motego.” His face split into a sinister grin. Sterling starlted gently when the man jumped to the ground and landed just a foot in front of where she stood. No sooner had the dust settled around his feet then the flap of the covered wagon flew open and another man jumped to the ground eliminating her chance for escape. Sterling dropped the bag of rabbits she’d been carrying and backed away pulling, the knife sheathed at her back.

The man called Motego lunged for her, but she quickly jumped back avoiding his grasp. He was a grisly old man and when he smiled Sterling could see the gap where two front teeth should have been. Deep lines creased his forehead and the lines around his mouth cut deep into his cheeks. Skin weathered by the sun hid dark brown eyes beneath sagging eyelids. What hair he had left had gone pure white, a testament to his age or the time spent in the sun? He was a smallish man, not much taller than Sterling’s slight frame. But where Motego was small his companion was his exact opposite. Tall and built like an ox, but despite his size he had a pudgy face almost akin to a baby. There was no malice in this man’s eyes like there was in Motego’s. Sterling was more concerned with this man than she was with Motego.

“Such a pretty vishca, don’t you thank Franto? Such pretty eyes you have vishca.” Sterling was angry at herself for not having worn her hood. She was never without, but today she thought there no need. Franto giggled and covered his mouth as if hiding the childish smile, “Pretty. Franto want pretty.” Sterling eased away from the childish giant trying to put as much distance as she could between her and his club like arms. She held her knife in a loose grip as she took another step off the road towards the safety of the forest. She jumped when Franto lunged for Sterling. She was ready for the attack, landing on her toes as she sprung back form this meaty fist. Knees bent she was ready for his next attempt to grab her, but he was faster than she anticipated. His vice like fingers latched on to her free arm and she tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. He squeezed his muscular hand until she winced in pain. Gaining control of her sense she slashed her blade across his knuckles forcing him to release her.

“Hurt!” Franto pulled his hand away and sucked on his bleeding knuckles. He looked at her over his bloody fingers. Anger, pure and unstoppable anger slowly began to show in his childlike eyes. He lowered his hand leaving blood smeared across his face and teeth. With a roar that rattled teeth, he swung his uninjured arm at Sterling, but she ducked and slashed her knife along the soft flesh of his arm. Blood immediately darkened his brown shirt. Franto began to howl, not so much from the painful but (to Sterling's dismay) small cut under his arm, but from the outrage and frustration that tugged at the simple minded man child.

“Hold it.” Sterling froze when she felt the steal tip of a blade pressing into her back. He took her own knife out of her hand shoved it into his waistband. “You’ve caused us too much trouble vishca. Now get in the back of the wagon.” Franto kept howling, which immediately caused Montego to pick up a nearby stone and plink it at Franto's head. "Hush ye fool! She barely scratched you! Quiet your crying or I'll give you something to cry about!" Franto immediately stopped, albeit with a few broken sobs and a small groan of displeasure. "Now that's a good boy, Franto." Montego slipped his dagger back into the sheath. "Now be an even better boy and put the pretty into the wagon, yes?" Franto nodded and moved towards Sterling.

Franto grabbed her once again and started pushing her towards the rear of the wagon. “Let me go.” She struggled to free herself, but his grip was too powerful. How could this be happening to her? Hemi was going to be furious if she got herself kidnapped. Sterling did not stop struggling using every technique Hemi had taught her self-defense. Franto pulled open the rear door of the wagon and pushed Sterling into the darkened interior. She fell to her knees and the sight before her took her breath away. There were two women and small child gagged and tied up in the corner of the wagon. But it wasn’t the presence of the women; it was the cold silvery eyes that stared back at her. The same silvery eyes that reflected in her mirror every morning.

Franto grabbed her arm and wrenched it behind her back. She came to her senses when she felt the rough fibers of a rope being wrapped around her arm. She reared back hitting Franto in the nose with the back of her head. He yowled in pain releasing to grab his broken nose. With one backwards glance at the frightened women Sterling jumped out of the wagon, but Motego was there waiting. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Who are those women? Why do you have tied up?”

“Motego! Look!” Franto, still holding his nose with one hand pointed down the road towards Shee, a dust cloud plumed into the still air behind a troop of soldiers on horses. “Damn it! It’s the Severon!” Motego abandoned his quest to steal Sterling away and jumped into the driver’s seat slapping the reins hard against the horses back and the wagon sped crazily done the road, its wheels bouncing on the uneven ground. The Severon galloped passed her in pursuit of Motego. Sterling watch in horror as Motego lost control of the wagon and it skidded sideways and then toppled over spilling the women out of the wagon.

What were the Severon doing this far north? Sterling quickly crossed road hoping the Severon had not noticed her. She tried to even her pace so as not to look suspicious. She felt as if her heart were going pound out of her chest. She was nearly to the path that led to the road that would take her to the orphanage. She hazarded a look over her shoulder and nearly tripped when she realized one of the Severon had broken away from the rest and was riding towards her. Why had she not worn her hood today? Of the days, why today?

“Hold there Miss.” He called out to her with is a smooth aristocratic voice, but she pretended not to hear him and continued at the same pace. “Stop there miss, I have some questions for you.” If she didn’t stop he would become suspicious, but if she turned and faced him he would see her eyes. What should she do? Her heart painfully thumped in her chest.

She stopped as he ordered, but without turning she held up the sack of rabbits she caught earlier. “Please, milord, if I don’t get these home soon they will go bad.” Hoping her words would satisfy him she continued on her way edging closer to the tree line. If she had to she could make a break for into the forest. The trees were thicker on this side of the road.

“Stop there and turn around.” She could tell by his voice that his orders were not often questioned. But if she stopped he would see her eyes and the Severon were not ones to pass on any such abnormality. “Either you stop here or I’ll have you taken to Sionaad and I’ll question you there.”

She’d heard rumors of Sionaad and the torturous acts the Severon committed within its walls. She stopped for fear of angering him, but she kept her back to him. “Ah I see the threat of Sionaad worked.” The leather of his saddle creaked as he started to dismounted. This was it; this was the end of her. All he would have to do is look at her face and see the legacy of her mother looking back at him.

“Commander Engrame!” One of the soldiers called out from the wrecked wagon. The other soldiers were trying wrestle Franto to the ground. His enormous size seemed to be too much for them. It was then that Sterling realized his attention was no longer on her. She quickly darted into the cover of the forest. Her heart beating so loud she thought the whole world must be able to hear it. She ducked behind one of the trees and watched as the Severon Commander returned to his men. Without a thought he drew his sword and drove the steel through Franto’s heart. The giant’s struggles ceased immediately. She could hear Motego cry out in agony as his friend collapsed, but even his cries were cut short by the same blade that had taken Franto’s life. The women that had huddled in the wagon were cowering together in the center of the road. The Commander must have given an order, for three of the soldiers gathered them up and threw them across their horses and rode off.

Sterling’s breath left her lungs when the Commander turned back to where she had disappeared into the forest. His dark eyes had an evil behind them she’d not seen before. There was such malice in there depths that it was palpable. She fell backwards away from the tree as if the force of his gaze had physically pushed her back. She gathered the rabbits and her bow and ran as fast as she could toward home. The sound of ominous thunder followed her through the forest.

Hemi was going to kill her if she got captured by the Severon.
Source

Sarno Forest – Northern Duenin

Twenty-One Years Later

Thunder vibrated the ground as it rumbled ominously; Sterling narrowed her eyes to the storm-ravaged valley below. The sky was a rolling cauldron of angry storm clouds, turning and tumbling on top of themselves in an angry knot. The long grey sheen of rain that slowly marched through the valley seemed to eat away at the very earth. It pelted the ground and where the valley sloped and dipped, the water already beginning to rise in the small streams that slithered across its green skin.

A silver fork of light streaked down into the valley as she watched helplessly from her patch of dry ground as the lightning struck the tree that had once stood sentinel in the center of the vale. The once ancient tree peeled itself like some giant banana, the bark and the wood curling away from the center mass split, leaving behind only a charred remnant of its once great self. The rocks that had protected the tree were blackened and shattered bits of debris that offered no resistance to the storm's anger. The steep walls of the valley rose to surround her. She felt so isolated and alone here.

The storm was now threatening to overtake her small patch of dry ground. The wind tore at her hair, driving the rain maddeningly as it hit her face. A sliver of ice suddenly struck her cheek. Surprised by the hit, she put her hand up to the small bloody cut. She needed to leave; this storm was bad, worse than she had anticipated. The rains were coming down from the snowcapped mountains in the not too distant horizon. And it was carrying the ice and snow from the mountain's peak. As she rose she felt this odd sensation that a presence was with her. Watching her. Sterling scanned the surrounding area, but could see no one. An intense prickling arose on the back of her neck that felt like a thousand pins were being driven into her skin. She rubbed the spot but received no relief. “Who's there?” she asked lightly, her words all but surrounded and defeated by the storm's fury.

Turning in a circle, she became aware of her current predicament. The storm had all but surrounded her now. The rains and the ice had leapt a full inch since standing. There was no avenue for escape from this valley; no path, road, not even the small game trails leading from this prison. She was surrounded on all sides by the rain. A sense of panic and genuine fear began to bleed through her skin. Her skin prickled with it. Without warning the prickling intensified until she thought she would pass out from the pain. And form the ethereal void of her own mind came a voice. Booming, commanding. Not her own. And yet somehow hers. The words that escaped her lips were unknown, unknowable yet easy to know. As she lifted her head to the storm above, the words seemed to vibrate through her, sending waves of nausea to the pit of her stomach, “Othail gee Elementals!” And as quickly as the words were spoken the pain and nausea were gone.

Sterling watched the storm clouds as they seemed to draw closer. She watched in terror; the sky lit up and bolts of lightning shot from the storm striking the ground near where she stood. She jumped back, but as her feet hit the ground a second bolt shot from the rolling clouds and struck Sterling throwing her back into the rising waters. Pain coursed through her body, unable to move she began to sink beneath the murky surface. She tried to scream, but had no breath to speak.......



Sterling jolted awake from the dream, gasping for breath. It took her a moment to realize that she was still in her own bed. Safe in the tiny cottage she shared with her uncle. Sweat drenched her nightshirt. Her skin was clammy and her heart raced with an unsteady beat. It had started as the same dream that she'd had since she could remember. Oddly, this time the ending was different. In the past, the lightning had only struck the ground around her, but in this one the lethal bolts had hit her, knocking her into the murky flood waters. An unusual feeling of dread washed over as she contemplated the significance of the change. She leaned herself back and covered her head with the threadbare cover, closing her eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep, but it never came. Her mind was too full with thought. The sound of twittering birds in the predawn light kept her company in her dark cocoon. A yawn forced stale oxygen into her burning lungs. She tried once again to relax her body, but no matter how hard she tried she could not go back to sleep. The fear of having the dream again was in the back of her mind as she threw the covers off allowing fresh air to finally reach her lungs.

Sterling pushed the curtain back from the window and found the sun struggling to push the night’s darkness aside. There was still an hour or so before the sun was full up, but she knew that she would be unable to go back to sleep. She poured fresh water in to the basin and splashed the frigid liquid into her face. She followed the same routine every morning, the water refreshing the body and readying the muscles for work. This morning the water seemed much colder. Her dream came back to her thoughts momentarily. But as she scrubbed the last dredges of sleep from her eyes and felt much better for it. Going through her normal routine, she pulled on the leather pants that her uncle hated. He thought them unfit for a girl, but she’d protested the dreaded skirts that the women in Shee wore claiming they were too cumbersome.

She wore a chemise under the cotton shirt and then a leather vest that laced on the sides. The vest had a hood sewn on and she pulled it over her heard concealing her eyes from possible onlookers. Satisfied she was complete; she made her way quietly down the hall so as not to wake her uncle.

In the small kitchen, she raided the larder and found dried meat and a hunk of stale bread, perfect for an early morning breakfast. She put the hunk of bread between her teeth so she could grab a lambskin of ale. Her boots were held under her right arm the meat in one hand and the lambskin in the other. It took her three attempts to open the door and when she did finally get it open it banged against the cottage wall making an awful racket. She paused for just a moment to make sure she had not woken her uncle. When no sounds emitted from his room she tried to close the door, but her hands were too full to grab hold of the handle. Instead, she hooked the door with her bare foot and pulled it shut. She turned to make her way across the yard and nearly walked into a leather clad wall. She was so startled she dropped everything she had gathered, even the bread that she had held clinched between her teeth.

“Whoa whoa, careful lass.”

“Ah, Hell.”

“Watch that tongue girl.” Sterling was doubly shocked. Now she knew why the old man didn't wake when she was clanging around the kitchen like a bull in a glass house. His imposing frame stood there frowning gently down at her. Though he did not abide curses from woman (he thought them unladylike) he held no reservations from his own, and so she had picked up on his bad habit.

“What are you doing up so early?” Sterling asked in lieu of apologizing. Her uncle hefted a small oxen tongue over a shoulder, grunting out a simple “I wanted to get a jump on the chores.” Sterling knew he was lying and he knew she knew. She followed his hand as he massaged the withering muscle of his thigh. Her eyes jumped back up to stare into his eyes.

“It’s getting worse isn’t?” she asked tentatively. He avoided her question by asking his own. “What are you doing up so early? You’re usually snoring like a solider this time of the morning.”

“I guess I wanted to get a jump on the chores," she threw his evasive comment back at him. They both knew the other was lying and they both knew the reason why. They’d played this game many times in the past.

“Well, get to them then. I’ve collected the eggs so you can milk the cows.” She suddenly glared up at Hemi. He knew she hated milking the cows. She wound up with more milk on her clothes that she did in the bucket. “After that, I need you to collect some mountain rabbits for tonight’s supper. Mother Anwell’s requested them for her guest tonight,” he continued to order, completely ignoring her icy stare. The games we play, Hemi thought to himself.

“Okay, let me just get my boots on.” Sterling mumbled as her teeth ripped off a small mouthful of beef. Hemi moved towards the barn, shaking his head.

“Ale, meat, and bread are no breakfast for a young lady.”

She handed the fare up to him so she could pull her boots on. “What difference does it make? It’s all going to the same place.”

“I should have sent you off to school like Mother Anwell had suggested,” he grumbled back at her. Sighing, he set the ox tongue down and moved to the cottage door. Holding the door open, he threw his head to the kitchen. “Get back in there and I’ll fix you a proper breakfast.” Sterling didn’t argue with him, Hemi’s breakfast were filling and lasted until lunch. She leapt up, still hopping on one foot as she squeezed into her boot, following him into the small kitchen the whole time.

“You know it would have been a waste of time if you’d sent me off to that silly finishing school.” Sterling said as she sat at the small table and watched as he pulled out the fixings for breakfast.

“You had the dream again.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Sterling's dread came back the second she acknowledged her uncle's statement. Though she didn't go into great detail (she'd told this story more times than both cared to remember), she saw the worry in his eyes when she told him of the lightning. The smell of bacon slowly curling over the iron cast stove caused Sterling’s stomach to growl. “What’s taking so long?” She protested.

“Keep your drawers on,” he said lightly as he went about pulling off the biscuits, eggs, and small bowl of spiced gravy.

Sterling was delighted by the plate of steaming food. Her cold breakfast paled in comparison. Hemi sat across from her, “Aren’t you going to eat?” She asked around a mouth full of egg.

“I ate when I awoke.”

“You probably had the same thing I was going to eat.” His silence told her she guessed right. “Here, have some,” she said as she took a portion of the breakfast and piled it on a clean plate, “besides you gave me too much.” Sterling made quick work of the food and wiped her mouth with the napkin Hemi handed her before she could wipe her sleeve across her mouth.

“You eat like a soldier,” he lightly teased.

“I’ve had a great teacher, uncle," she shot back, letting out a very unlady-like belch. "Now I’m off to my chores.”

“Sterling”, Hemi stopped her, “There’s no need for you to hide yourself behind that hood.”

“I know.” She avoided his eyes not wanting to see the concern in them.

“Don’t forget to feed the horses.” Hemi shot at her as she raced across the yard. She waved that she heard him and entered the musty barn.



Source

 

Fende’Lima, Keeper of Orla and Priestess of the Sabolan Line, was not pleased. 

She examined the tiny circle burned into the wooden floor. That fool Sabolan had performed the Kil’laren on the child simply because it was a girl. No matter how many years she lived she was still amazed by the ignorance of her fellow Priestesses. She started towards the Kai’Varian capital as soon as word reached her of the pending birth but she had been too late. The child was gone and the battle that had been in full swing upon her arrival had been quelled. The sounds of fighting had diminished since her arrival. And now, here she was; in the birthing chamber, with only the remnants of a fierce struggle between two warriors remained. 

She stared at the scene that lay before her, a High Guard Veillen and daemon graekull in a death pose that will be forever remembered. The Veillen's sword had pierced the graekull from forehead to crown, and the daemon’s claws lay buried deep in the warrior’s chest – rending into his very heart. It had to have been a painful death. A pain beyond what normal men are capable of carrying. This warrior, this proud and noble creature, had given his very life to protect his wife. To say that it did not, in some way, touch upon her heart would be a lie.

She had warned them of the possible attack, but they had insisted they would be safe in the capital. Her thoughts drifted; what was the old saying about the young and their need for war? Bah! She thumped her cane in anger. “Fools.” There was nothing else she could do here; she had to find the child before the graekull and before the Kai’Varians. It was imperative that the child remain safe.

She started towards the door where the body of the Sabolan Priestess still lay as testament to the graekull’s indiscriminate killing. Before she could leave, she caught the echoing sounds of heavy footsteps on the path leading the isolated birthing chamber. She side stepped in the darkened corner of the room and waited. Who would come to such a place during a battle? The tall shadow of a man stopped just outside the door as if uncertain if he should enter. The door scrapped across the rough planks and the body of the priestess resisted the pressure making it difficult for the door to be opened any further. Undeterred he pushed his way into the room.

“Khort? Vash’Te?” The man stopped just inside, Fende’Lima thought possibly to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. A warrior perhaps, or a veteran at least. She'd seen it done many times by the cautious and the wise. Rushing in headlong before your eyes adjusted to the low light could mean all the difference between life and death. And it was something that the young, the foolish, or the simple brash and arrogant man never seemed to learn until it was far too late. He took another step into the room and came to a sudden halt. “Oh, gods. No.” He growled under his breath. “No.” He put his hand over his nose as if to protect himself from the putrid smell of the graekull that filled the room. The smell was unmistakable.

She knew this man. He was Khort’s slave, though she recalled Khort treated the man more like a friend than a servant. She struggled to recall his name. Hemi – Hemi Rhesida from Duenin. She was surprised the man was still alive, without Khort’s protection he was surely to be put to death once found by the Kai’Varian army. The army had no love for anyone from Duenin. They would kill a neighbor from the north without a second thought. She watched him as he fell to his knees beside the bed; his shoulders shook as he wept in silent sadness. 

“Why? Why did you make me leave?” He asked through the tears, “I could have protected you both. Vash, your daughter, she is beautiful just as you always will be.” There was tenderness in his voice that revealed deeper feelings than just those of a slave to his master. He caressed her cheek pushing the dark hair out of the way. He pulled a chain from around her neck and held it up to the light; a dark brown jewel shimmered in the dim light.

“I waited, but you never came.” He said forlornly. “You said as soon as you knew the fighting had stopped you would come find us, but you never came. What am I to do now? I know nothing of infants and their needs.” His back was too her, but she could see he had something cradled to his chest. Could it be? Her suspicions were confirmed the tiny whimper of an infant reached her ancient ears. He pulled the blanket back and tried to shush the babe. Why had Khort given the child to such a man? He was a brute that knew nothing of rearing a child. He was a solider that knew only how to kill, not to nurture. She thought of stepping from the shadows and revealing herself, but she wanted to see what he would do.

She watched as he put his head in hand as if deep in thought. “I could take her to Maeve," he seemed to talk to no one in particular. It was more of a harsh whisper now, and Fende’Lima had to lean forward just a bit to hear. With age came wisdom, she mused, but so did bad hearing. “She would raise the child as her own. No.” He shook his head, “you said that Norden would never accept her in his home.” With his head bowed he seemed to think deeply about what to do. After a pregnant paused he sighed and seemed to resign himself to the fact that he was now the child’s caretaker, “I promised you I would care for your daughter. I will not break that oath my old friend. I will protect her.” He reached out and closed the dead eyes of Khort Rin’Ovana. “I will –” He stopped when he heard the footsteps running towards the chambers. “I will protect her.” He quickly stood and gathered a few supplies from the room and with one glance back at the death scene he fled. Where would he take her? There was no safe place in Kai’Vari for him to hide. Would he take her to Duenin? Surely he would not. If the Dueninians ever found her the Kai’Varians would be doomed.

The pounding footsteps grew closer, “Khort! Where are you?” The voice was that of Brom, the King's nephew. The door flew open; his strength belied his young age, as the young boy charged into the room he stopped suddenly at the sight before him. A scream escaped past his clinched teeth as he back peddled away from the gruesome scene. “No! No! You can’t be dead!”

“Brom! Don’t look” Maeve, the Queen of Kai’Vari, stepped in and quickly covered Brom’s eyes and turned him into her skirts.

He pushed away from his aunt and ripped a piece of cloth from the sheets. He wrapped the cloth around Khort’s sword and pulled the steel from the graekull’s skull. Maeve placed her hand on his shoulder in comfort, but he threw her off, “I will never forgive him.” He fled the room, but not before Fende’Lima saw the anger shining in the young man’s eyes.

More warriors would be coming to prepare the bodies for burial. She must leave this place and return to the forest once more. There she would wait. Wait for the time in which the child returned to claim her prophecy.

With a light tap of her cane, she felt her body melt into the shadows, and she became one with the night tides leading back into the gilded wood

file:///C:\Users\SHANNA~1\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.gif

 

Source

 

 

As part of our gaming season, we've decided to let YOU decide on a regularly scheduled event each week.

Feature a favorite is simple, reply to this thread, any multi-player game you want to see for this weekly event. Any platform, any multi-player game, any genre, from a facebook game to any device (iphone/ipad/andriod) and any console or computer platform. Every Monday night at 9pm (EST) your vote will be featured, the only thing we ask is that you promote, show up and play. This event will be posted each week on our calendar and promoted not only by the staff but by everyone interested. This can be a great way to get your friends and families involved!

 

How does feature a favorite work?
Reply to the tread with the game you want to play
the game with the most entries will be the game we play
Voting is Monday through Friday

Reply HEREto pick your favorite

As you can probably tell by now Munki has upgraded the forums to the latest release and I, for one, could not be more delighted.  For so long we've had to add calendar events and then turn around and create post for you guys to RSVP.  No more do we have to do double the work to bring you events because now you can RSVP directly on the calendar event.

Now when you click on a calendar event you should see the new RSVP button on the right:

Once you click on the "I'm Attending" your name will be added to the RSVP:

If you change your mind and can't attend then simply click on the Red Circle next to your name.

Other good news:  You can comment directly on the calendar event.

I am a killzone fan. I did enjoy the first one and got addicted to killzone 2. I played and still own the game because I could pop it in at anytime. You can imagine mine and the community excitement with all the beta testing and news of Killzone 3. I have seen it evolve and I truly love how Guerilla Games listened to the community during killzone 2. This is why I have waited to give my thoughts on Killzone 3. It has been a month now and I feel I can be honest. First thing I'll get out right away, the menu screens are absolutely atrocious. I can not justify why they did this. With that stated, that doesn't make a game.

First off, the campaign and story are top notch. It's a bit shorter than I expected. However, with all the gorgeous set pieces and kick ass action I loved it. Sometimes the A.I. Did feel weaker in KZ3 versus Killzone 3. However, there was no frustrating moments on Elite as there was in KZ2. I must say though to platinum this one is much less of a challenge. I am addressing this review to fans of the series. The campaign is a brilliant addition to the world we know. The story was great and it is truly a blast to play through.

The graphics in the campaign are superior to any shooter I can think of. The only contender I know of currently is Crysis 2. There will be more on that to come though. A lot of gamers complained about the dark, gritty look of Helghan in killlzone 2. They have addressed this and gave us a much broader view into the planet. You have gorgeous seas, vivid jungles and other terrains that are simply breathtaking. The story fits well into the universe and the ending is something nothing short of awesome. I don't want to spoil it though especially due to the shortness. I played it through and went back through it in the same week though. That should speak volumes as I rarely do this with a FPS campaign.

With the “brutal” melee system in place it actually makes it fun to play through a few times. Be stealthy or go in with guns blazing. It's all up to you. The controls are tighter with less dead spot and I personally don't see how they could improve on them. They are perfect in my honest opinion. Keep in mind, I'm not a huge fan of the normal COD layout though. The new cover system does brilliantly and the new slide adds to the adrenalin.

Now, for the heart and obsession I had with killzone 2, we needed a bigger, better multiplayer. This is one reason I've waited a month. There has been continuous issues and patches released. I'm honestly not sure how this happened after the countless hours of beta testing allowed for this game. It is still one of the best out there and is fun to play alone but a true experience to play with a full squad. The problem now is can you get into the games, will you have lag that will ruin the experience, or will you simply be stuck on the same map over and over again. These are issues that we should not be experiencing this late into the game.

I feel GG has let it's fans down in some way after the continuous communication we had during killzone 2. Sure, all games have there bugs/issues but they were resolved. We were told they were being resolved. It is as if the development team has vanished almost completely on the communication side and the patches they have released just cause more issues. The game, when it works, is fun to play. I still do not understand why we do not have custom games but they stated(a while ago) it will be in a patch. I think GG does need to listen to our marksman cloaking being unbalanced with a machine gun. There are some other balance issues that could go into but go to there forums if you want to here all of them.

Biggest thing to take away from this is I'm not bashing Killzone 3. When it works I absolutely love it although I do wish for some tweaks and changes still. I think the fans that still have the game are hoping for this as well. I feel as somewhere since killzone 2 the community matters less and that truly sucks in my opinion. I somewhere still have faith they can turn this around but there is a lot to turn around. Most mentioned above for me, some other issues as modes and the true lack of enough maps on release. I still thought there should have been four to five operation modes but hey, we all buy dlc. It's been a month now and I can sadly say overall I'm disappointed. Frustratingly so as this is one of my favorite FPS franchises. I also felt that the development team that once communicated so well with it's fan base has completely dropped the ball. I'm hoping I can update this one day to a better review but currently I can not. It's been a true stab to the heart of this killzone fan.  

I might shed a tear but overall Killzone 3 gets a 6.5 from me. Possibly a 7 if we had better communication from GG.

I'll still be on Vekta hoping they get on the ball and pull this number up higher though.

Source: Killzone 3 Review from a Killzone Fan

When Beautiful Peoples Club started in 2008 it was a novel idea to most of us.  It was something new to experience.  A way for us "old" people to get together and play the games we like, the way we want to play them, without being harassed.  It was going along nicely, we had lots of new members every day to add to our numbers.  

But something happened it 2009 that changed us - changed the site.  It was Killzone 2.  Killzone 2 burst onto the scene and people from everywhere flooded to the site and started playing with the BPC.  On a nightly basis you could find upwards of 30 people playing Killzone 2.  One month went by - everyone was playing, two months - still going strong.  Three months went by and we were STILL playing Killzone 2.   We even tried our hand at clan matches - we lost most of them, but we managed to gain a few members from the opposing teams.  

After six months the thrill of Killzone waned, people traded it in, got tired of playing, or just found something else that piqued their interest.  But this had other consequences as well.  People stopped frequenting the site as much - was it because there were no more Killzone events to keep them interested?  Or was it just that life got in the way of gaming?

Either way people left to be with their families, start new families, change careers, or move to a new place.  And though our membership continued to rise some of our most active members took a hiatus.  We continued to play other games that drew new people to our tree, but nothing like Killzone 2.  Not even John Marston has the drawing power of the red eyed helghast.

But now Killzone 3 is out and what are we seeing, but an influx of old members that came back to play with us again.  The excitement of Killzone 3 has brought us back together again.  How is it that one game can be so popular that it brings us as a gaming community together.  We have more fun in Killzone than any other game we've played before or since.  Nightly we have two or three eight man squads going at one time and its only been out for three days.  What is it about this game that brings us together?  

I'd like to hear your thoughts on why Killzone is such a magnet to BPC members.  Is it the game of the fact that we can all play together?

I’m coming at this review not playing the first Dead Space. Unfortunately, I missed the first one but I am on board for the sequel. It does have a nice previously on so I got to see what Isaac Clarke  had been up to. After a quick story fill in I wake up to madness. I’m on a space station named Sprawl. Instantly I feel I’m really there and all hell or necromorphs has broken out.



I can not say enough about the lighting and graphics in this game. It’s beautiful in it’s details. Space sequences truly stand out. Throughout my first play through I’m not sure I ever realized I was on earth. I was completely immersed in space. I think that’s when I felt something was truly different about this game. Don’t get me wrong, this is a hellish nightmare but there is beauty in the details. Space is incredible, the set pieces are beautiful and the whole look I believe is perfect. There are a few hiccups with the necros I noticed and some camera glitches but they were barely noticeable.

The lighting I feel deserves it’s own award. The darkness to the rings of Saturn to the lasers are simply incredible. A part of the total immersion is the lighting in this game and it’s perfect. While some sequences just put me in awe the majority of it has me ready to jump out of my skin. The lighting in ever aspect to this single player is brilliant.

Gameplay fits perfect with this game. You have telekinesis for grabbing objects, limbs to use as weapons and many other strategies. There is a slew of weapons and upgrades for your suit and equipment. They are extremely rewarding as it’s a challenge to receive nodes. Nodes lets you adjust your rig(suit) and weapons. Finally a survivor horror game that has balls and does limit you on ammo, powers, etc. You do have to work for it all and it’s a satisfying yet terrifying experience. Stomping can be a little too much fun but also grabs you loot. So there is a purpose to stomping on all the necros and bodies in this nightmare. Also there are puzzles that add a break from the combat. I really enjoyed these but don’t want to spoil them for anyone.

Sound is also a huge plus for me with this title. The music is eerie, atmospheric, dramatic, and fits in perfectly with the campaign. It never attempts to cheese it up and commend them for this. Screams and necros also fill up the sound to perfection. Sometimes I still don’t know if it was ears playing tricks on me or if it was a lurker coming at me.  The guns sound great and set pieces with moving parts are brilliant. Crank the volume, turn off the lights and enjoy this title to it’s fullest extend.

The replay ability is already high. There are 4 different difficulties although the last is probably left for people that just love abuse. The multiplayer is a lot of fun. It’s not perfect and is more of it’d be nice to kill some necros and/or humans with some objectives thrown in the mix. Guard or Defend. It’s fairly basic but it does work overall. While not the best multiplayer I think it does fit the game. There are plenty of ranks to move up and upgrades to achieve as well. I’ve heard a lot of people down the multiplayer and while it’s not perfect, I still see myself playing it here and there. It’s still a lot of fun. It also nearly looks identical to the campaign gameplay which I love.

I can’t recommend this one for the younger folks but those that want a dark, nightmarish, survial horror game this one is for you. It’s the best one I’ve played in a long time. It’s brutal, it’s scary and at times it’s simply fucked up. If it sounds like that’s up your ally do yourself a favor and check this one out. It will definitely be a remembered game for me for some time to come. Excellent game.

9.5 out of 10

Source: Dead Space 2 Review(PS3)