Chapter XVII - They Who Are No More

The quiet that seized the room at the man's words stretched on for long moments. Ephirea was stunned to find out she had nothing to say. Surely this man could not be Oheniies. Quillion had described him to be an old man who had lived hard throughout the world. This man sitting on the bed before the mercenary's eyes looked in the prime of his life, not young certainly, but definitely not old.

The man's eyes seized and held hers for a moment and he smiled with his teeth clenched around his pipe stem before speaking again.

"Some of you more than likely doubt the truth of my identity, so I will endeavor to fill in the gaps as much as possible." The man's golden eyes swept over the companions and the gathered assassins like wildfire over dry grass. Ephirea watched as each of the companions in turn flinched as they met the sage's eyes, she included. Only the ever stoic Dealyon proved immune to Oheniies' gaze, at least outwardly.

"I have roamed this world longer than any of you could possibly dream, seeing and accomplishing things your young minds could not grasp in their infancy," Ephirea blinked in surprise as Oheniies locked eyes with Quillion and almost whispered his last words, "for now."

"I am one of the last of a race of people so varied that they could scarcely be termed people. In fact, we were easily the dominant race along the northern edge of this continent, once called Merjehnali, now shortened to Mer."

Ephirea could feel her mind spin a bit as she became more enthralled by each word the sage spoke. She had not seen the man cast any magic, rather she felt the force of his personality imposing itself on her.

"The Elindera, we called ourselves: a peaceful people interested in only moving from one day to the next in harmony with the world around us. We worshipped no Gods other than the symbols of the land itself. Now granted, it was a primitive way to live, by today's standards," the man admitted, taking a puff from his pipe, "but I've found no better way to live since then."

A slight groan from behind Oheniies snapped Ephirea from the focused daze she had lapsed into. Her hand instinctively moved to an arrow to nock in her bow before she realized the sounds came from Ilithiron stirring after his encounter with Oheniies. From her peripheral vision, she watched Oheniies frown in irritation at being interrupted, but she noted the man made no move to re-instigate the one-sided scuffle with the assassin.

The mercenary could not help but giggle at the predicament the companions had led themselves to. They had fought and escaped Mirdas Morgal mercenaries, dodged powerful monsters, and searched an entire city with no idea where to look, only to end up here, mesmerized by the force of will coming from one old man. She giggled again.

Melina flashed an irritating look at Ephirea, and the archer gave her an impudent grin in response. The Accabashi woman really needs to enjoy life a lot more before she dies of old age.

The big sage kept his back turned unconcernedly to the assassin who groggily assumed his feet. Ephirea could feel the tension crackling in the air as Ilithiron stared coldly at Oheniies' back, murder in his eyes. He looked down to grab a knife hilt and, by chance, spied Scintara on the ground. Ephirea felt almost disappointed as she watched the assassin completely forget about the sage's presence and drop to the ground to check on the curly-haired thief.

After a few moments, he breathed an audible sigh of relief and turned to Quillion. "She's alright. She's only asleep," he mumbled.

Surprisingly to Ephirea, Quillion only nodded his head briefly in response, his face never changing expression and his eyes never leaving Oheniies. The archer had thought, based upon past observances that the Half-elf cared more for Scintara than that. She opened her mouth to comment on that fact when Oheniies' rumbling voice interrupted her.

"Of course she's alright, young man. She's done nothing to warrant anything further than a good, unplanned rest. Perhaps this will teach her the value of checking doorways before attempting to sneak through them." The sage's brow furrowed in irritation as he noticed his pipe had gone out. The big man then pulled out the strange device, the one that had caught Ephirea's attention immediately, a small, steel cylinder with a edge of flint attached to one end, to relight it. "You, assassin," he continued, "on the other hand, have warranted more and that's what I gave you. If you would care to have a seat now, you can hear the rest of my tale, or we can resume where you and I left off earlier." The sage's eyes glittered in his face as he caught Ephirea's eyes. He continued to chew on his pipestem and did not turn towards the assassin at all. Each passing moment increased Ephirea's fascination with this white-robed man.

From her peripheral vision, she could see Ilithiron straighten himself indignantly. The assassin glanced at the people in the room for a moment, then, with as much dignity as he could muster, sat down in a chair next to Scintara's sleeping form. The sage must have read the disappointment in Ephirea's eyes, for he immediately grinned, saying, "Thank you, Ilithiron."

"Now, as I was saying, the Elindera were the primary race along the northern face of Mer, but long ago, a new people had begun to make themselves known. They trickled down from the island to the north of the continent, and at first seemed to have nothing more than peaceful intentions. They were fascinated by the, by today's standards anyway, primitive existence of the Elindera and seemed to be studying us, although being very careful not to become too close to us in our daily goings-on.

"After a few years of this distant, neighborly attitude from these new people, we began to notice a stronger influx of them landing on the shore. They arrived in greater and more alarming numbers every day. They still maintained their distance, but we could not help but notice the disruption they had on the land around them. We Elindera, who were finely tuned to the language of the land, could hear every whimper and scream from the soil as they exploited the gifts of nature from their rude encampments."

Ephirea watched the man's eyes turn inward, as if he observed a scene no one else could view. Her heart wrenched involuntarily at the lost, forlorn look in the man's previously stony eyes. Oheniies took a deep breath before continuing in the same, steady voice.

"Ah, if only we had known then what I know now about the nature of the intelligent races in the world. What we had thought were simply poorly planned exploration camps were, in actuality, army encampments for a force bent on destroying our people and stripping the land of all of its hard-toiled resources.

"The first day was the worst. The screams of the people echoed through the air like a gong resounding through our minds. Those of the people who lived nearest the coast were cut down before they even knew they were being attacked. The Elindera were inexperienced in the ways of violence and some of them simply stood there, overawed by the terrible shock, while the invaders destroyed their hearts and bodies with a mighty sweep of their weapons.

"Those who were not captured by the terrible wave of death fled before it, intent on escape and having no concept on how to achieve it. A noble, peaceful race that prided themselves on their sense of wisdom had been reduced to mindless field mice escaping the fire that swept through the meadow. The invaders somehow anticipated this would occur, for they set up all manner of terrible traps along the path of the fleeing Elindera. Were it not for the blind panic they had been prodded to, the people would have easily sensed and avoided these crude traps, but that was not to be the case. The ground soaked up the blood of the Elindera that day and would for many years thereafter.

"The conquering of northern Merjehnali took less than four months. The invaders from the north had exterminated all but a few scattered families of the Elindera and had begun to strip the land of its precious resources. Luckily, I had been in one of those scattered families. My father and mother swept my sister and myself up and moved us out of our homeland, now territory occupied by the invaders' troops. We kept to the forest and high grasses that remained, using our acute sense of the natural world around us to avoid any of the soldiers.

"We reached the edge of the forest known today as Ravenwood before we were spotted by a group of the invaders. At the sound of their war cries, my father shoved my mother, my sister, and I towards the forest, screaming at us to run. He then turned to face the invaders, knowing that he would die for our freedom. As I sprinted for the tree line I looked over my shoulder at my father as he waited for the invaders to reach him. I then saw him do something I had never seen before. He raised his arms and a wall of light issued from his body, streaking towards the invaders with a deadly beauty. The light struck the majority of the invaders, passing through them like a rock through the surface of water. After a few steps more, the invaders the light had touched simply exploded. There was no better way to describe it.

"I watched my father collapse to his knees after that, seemingly unable to move. The two remaining invaders recovered quickly after their initial shock and overtook my father. I could not force myself to watch what happened to him, but no screams ever issued from behind me.

"I could see the forest drawing closer as I ran and I could hear my sister's labored breathing beside me. With wordless yells, my sister and I burst through the brush on the forest's edge, stumbling to the ground after a few steps within. It was then, lying on the ground panting, that I noticed my mother was nowhere within sight. Too afraid to call out for her, I crept toward the brush at the edge of the forest. There, twenty or so strides away, I saw one of the two remaining invaders remove their spear from my mother's lifeless form.

"My total, complete fear and shock paralyzed me. I could not form a rational thought in my mind. I might have stood there numbly waiting for the invaders to kill me had one of them not reached down and ripped the plain flaxen dress from my mother's body. One of the invaders growled something in a language I did not understand and gestured to my mother, indicating what he might do to her body.

"In retrospect, I fell right into the invaders' trap, for I'm certain they were attempting to bait me into revealing my position from inside the thick forest cover. Unfortunately, I wasn't thinking of anything like that at the time, I only wanted to destroy utterly these people who had shattered my life in such a short time. I felt a surge inside of me that I had never felt before, a surge of blinding heat. Of course now, after my many years of study and research, I surmise that it was the same surge that my father had felt before his death. It was the latent magical power of the Elindera emerging within me.

"I stepped out from the imagined shelter of the forest, intentionally revealing myself to the invaders. I did not know what it was I intended on doing to them; I know only that something had to be done. The rage and fear combined in me as I stared at their armored forms. Their dark skins absorbed the fading evening light and their eyes glared at me contemptuously as I stood there. One of them growled something else in their foul language and he ran forward, a terrible spiked mace raised menacingly.

"The hot surge within me roiled like storm clouds and I submitted to its power, feeling the painful release as I raised my hands up reflexively in defense. A bright ray of light scattered from my outstretched hand, flashing throughout the evening air. I stood there, eyes blinking away the afterimage burning in them and my arms thrown over my head, waiting for the death blow from the invader. It never came.

"As soon as my vision cleared, I scanned the ground in front of me. Of the two invaders, there only remained greasy mounds of ashes, quickly scattering in the gusting north wind. My mother's body, surprisingly, had remained untouched by the uncontrolled blast I had loosed. Fear of discovery prodded me into clasping onto my mother's arms and dragging her back towards the shelter of Ravenwood. That flash could have been seen for miles around there in the rapidly fading light.

"I dragged her body back to where my sister lay shivering and panting. I took out a sharp-ended stick and began to prepare a burial mound for my mother. After a while my sister joined me and we worked into the night, fastening the other sticks together with whatever vines and sapling branches we could find until we had the mound completed. With my sister's help, I took my mother and placed her on the mound. I knew it would not hold her for as long as I wished, but it would do to allow her spirit to ease its way from her battered body and rise to the skies.

"My sister, Elissin, then looked at me with her large, tear-filled eyes and asked me what happened to the invaders. That was when the full reality of what I had done came crashing down upon me. I had killed another living being out of anger! I dropped to the ground and emptied my stomach in revulsion. What I had done went against everything I had been raised to believe; went against everything the Elindera stood for. I had allowed the base nature of the beast inside me to overtake the mind that set us apart from the selfsame beasts.

"Oh to be certain, in the many years since then I have tried to convince myself otherwise. Convince myself that I had acted in my own defense, that I had no control over my power, that they would have done the same to Elissin as they had my mother, but I was merely denying the truth. The truth is... I could have stayed within the boundaries of the forest and the invaders would have never found my sister or I. I had responded to their goading of me with anger and they were dead because of it."

Ephirea could feel the impotent rage that had seethed through Oheniies those many years ago. She could feel the room vibrate with it. She could almost picture herself as Oheniies, watching the dark invaders approach with those rictus snarls on their faces. She heard a low growl behind her and it startled her out of her imagined fantasies.

Glancing in the direction of the sound, she saw Ell, in her half-tiger form, watching something unseen with her yellow eyes, her ears laid back like she wanted to pounce on a foe. A fast scan of the room showed the others in much the same state, attuned to the story with more than their ears. With mighty amusement she saw Malaryn leaning forward at an angle where he should have fallen on his face, but the big man was too enthralled to notice his precarious balance.

The only members of the companions who did not seem to be captivated by Oheniies' subtle magic were Quillion and Lysinthia. Well, and Dealyon, but who really knew what went on under the folds of the stodgy Druid's hood? Quillion simply watched Oheniies relay his tale with a flat stare, as if he did not believe a word and need only to size up the amount of threat the man contained to his plans. Lysinthia appeared to watch him like a hawk on the hunt. Measuring every word, phrase, and inflection. Of course, the crazy bard wanted to see how Oheniies performed his story so that it enthralled everyone the way it did. Good luck with that, songwoman. This man was a master. Oheniies gestured in the air with his pipe and the mercenary's attention snapped back to his story. Despite herself, she hoped she had not missed much.

"...traveled the length and breadth of the land, just my sister and I." Oheniies continued, Ephirea slipped comfortably back into his tale, anxious to not miss a word. "There was no possibility of me rejoining the few Elindera that remained. My crime had placed me beyond their acceptance forever. My sister remained by my side, despite my continued attempts at persuading her to return to the small amount of the people that remained. Thus was my life. Elissin and I became as close as a brother and sister possibly could through the long years of traveling together. We learned many things and came to know the lands of the south as well as we had the north. We also came to know the people of the land and the cultures that they comprised. Thus, my name became synonymous with the lore that I collected, and I became known as Oheniies the Sage more so than simply Oheniies.

"Then the most incredible thing happened; the invaders left, abandoning the northern edge of the continent just as quickly as they had appeared. My sister and I went north to our old homeland to investigate the reason behind their mysterious leave-taking. My now legendary thirst for knowledge would not permit me to do otherwise, despite my aversion to seeing the place of my parents' deaths.

"What I found there was enough to send grown men to hiding behind their mother's skirts for the rest of their lives. It was not the reason for the invaders' disappearance. No, it was far worse than that. What I found took the most terrifying nightmare any of you could possibly imagine, increased it ten-fold, and turned it into a reality. Elissin and I were witness to the first appearance of the Rivanwraiths in Mer. They blanketed the sky thick like a flock of immeasurably large crows as they sailed high above the stormy waters of the Black Channel.

"Now, as I have mentioned before, Elissin and I had the Elindera gift of close commune with the natural world. Some of you have felt the awesome power of a Rivanwraith before, so you can readily imagine the force of psychic and physical power that would precede an entire swarm of them."

Ephirea could feel her soul shrink away in horror at the imagined and remembered fear of such an encounter. The power tickled something in the back of her mind, something that she could not quite place, perhaps some kind of dream she had before. She scanned the rest of the companions as well as some of the gathered assassins and noticed that Ilithiron had the same reaction that the companions did. Had he run across a Rivanwraith before? The assassin would require more scrutiny from Ephirea. If he had felt a Rivanwraith's touch, then he might very well be more then he seemed.

A feeling like a wave of enormous wingbeats caused her to drop into a crouch and reach for an arrow to nock. After a look at the low, plastered ceiling of the room, she realized that Oheniies' story telling trick had caused the feeling. She rose back to her previous stance, glancing around sheepishly at the rest of the group. If one of them had noticed her jumpiness, she would never hear the end of it. Luckily, all of the rest of the people in the room remained transfixed on the sage's next words. She corrected herself quickly. Dealyon's hood faced her and not the sage. That bloody Druid has seen everything! Yayenger's Blood! She gave the Druid her most venomous look and, with a sniff and a toss of her hair, turned to face Oheniies. No telling whether her look had any affect on the Druid. Drat him and his bloody dark hood. Then all thoughts of the Druid melted from her mind as she felt herself being swept back into Oheniies' tale.

"Elissin and I had no choice but to cover ourselves up from the onslaught of the collective power of the Rivanwraiths' minds. They swept overhead with the sound of a thousand thunderstorms, yet made no noise at all; their power greater than that of centuries of Elindera combined. We could feel each individual touch as their minds casually tossed our fears and hates about and dismissed them as unworthy of their attention. They could have destroyed my sister and I with but a casual thought, but we were not even worth that effort, luckily for us.

"Amid this deluge of power, though, one thing stood out. One thing stood in the tempest and gave even the collective power of the Rivanwraiths pause. It was a presence that made itself known to Elissin and I like a signal fire on a dark hilltop. We took our heads out from under our arms and stood up to see what possessed such strength.

"Our eyes were drawn to a single human-like figure dressed in black finery on the beach below. Its hands were raised in the air as if in triumph and we could feel the black power that had seized our attention flowing from it like the waves that crashed upon the beach. Just like those selfsame waves, the each pulse of the power from this figure had an undertow, a pull that drew all nearby to its source. The siren's call of the power caressed my mind and spirit, bestowing upon me an intense obsession to draw nearer to the figure in black.

"The cliff we stood upon allowed us to overlook the beach where it stood, but it seemed as though I gazed upon the figure from below. Such was the force of the figure's will. I looked up in adoration of the figure, into its terrible gaze and saw a pair of eyes looking back at me, a pair of man's eyes. I remembered the only other time I had felt such a burning desire to relent my safeguards, the only other time I had. When I had wielded the power of my people and destroyed the two invaders that had killed my parents. This terrible remembrance shocked me out of my daze and I looked about my surroundings, realizing suddenly that I had been walking towards the edge of the cliff in my desire to reach the man on the beach.

"It was then that I noticed Elissin walking forward as well. I called out to her, but she gave no notice of me. She drew to within only a few strides away from the cliff's edge before I managed to catch up to her, grasping her arm in a desperate attempt to stop her. My greater physical strength should have made it easy to prevent her from moving forward, but she pulled against me with strength nearly equal to my own.

"I called out to her again, shouting in the unnerving silence of the Rivanwraiths' passing. I shouted as loud as possible, but could barely hear my own voice over the rush of power, both the Rivanwraiths' and the man in black's. Elissin then seemed to notice that she drew no nearer to her goal and she turned to gaze upon me with eyes alight in fear and adoration. She did not recognize me in her delirium. I shouted again and tried to make her aware of the malevolent power that was trying to consume her. She grew angry at the thing that dared keep her from the power that she desired. Her eyes glazed over and I had only an instant to summon again the power of the Elindera to shield myself from her attack.

"A beam of brilliance, similar to what my father and I had used so many years before, emanated from Elissin, bashing against my hastily erected defenses and throwing me backwards away from her. It was a clumsy strike that had no chance of causing me harm, but it had accomplished its purpose. My sister, free of my restraint, took the final few steps to her goal and plummeted off the cliff. I heard not a scream nor whisper of despair from her as she disappeared from my view. I heard only my own.

"I ran forward to the edge of the cliff and looked over its precipice, hoping beyond hope that she had not died, but I could see nothing in the gloom of the dark, overcast skies. The bottom of the cliff, where the waves bashed against the shores was hidden from my sight. I wailed in despair and terror and looked towards the beach where the man in black had stood. I wanted to fix my eyes upon the man that had killed my sister before I destroyed him. Unfortunately, the darkness obscured the beach and its contents from my vision just as it had the skies above.

"Then I noticed something else, a feeling of impending danger that penetrated even through my grief and anger. The Rivanwraiths had taken notice of me. In retrospect, I know that it was the flash of power from my sister and I that had caught their attention, but nevertheless, I had become the object of their focus. I could feel some of them leave the swarm spiraling above me and approach my position on the cliff. The fear and awe that had paralyzed me previously no longer had a hold on me. I stood up and stared into the gloom of the darkening skies watching for the winged death that drew nearer, death that I felt, but could not see. I was intent only on selling my life dearly, both for myself and for Elissin. I need not have bothered.

"I summoned the power within me that I had touched only twice before and prepared myself for the battle, but it was to no avail. The Rivanwraiths sent blades of psychic energy ahead of them; blades that pierced into my mind and sliced away my control of my own power, even of my own body. I fell to the ground in a heap, facing skyward in a paralyzed body with only my fear and anger left to console me.

"I felt the ground tremor as the beasts landed on all sides of me. I could not see them, but I could hear them rustling about. A whisper of movement and the occasional flap as they buffeted their wings was all that I could detect. I could hear the ground beneath them being rent by their terrible claws. I struggled to move my head, to move my arms, to move any part of my body so that I could escape these terrible beasts, even though I knew it would have been useless. Even if I had the ability to move, I could not have escaped the massive Rivanwraiths that surrounded me, however many of them there were. I could not stop the panic that threatened to overtake my mind due to the hopeless position I was in. In fact, I more than likely would have gone mad on the top of that cliff were it not for what occurred next.

"The white fear that coursed through my mind subsided at an awareness of the dark, pulsing power of the man in black. Almost as soon as I felt its touch at the edge of my awareness, it just as suddenly overwhelmed me. I could feel the waves pounding into me like a smith's hammer blows. Then I saw a man's body looming over me, filling my vision with its magnificence. I say magnificence for that was all I could describe the man as, magnificent.

"I could see the man's dead black clothing in all of its finery, from the elegant, velvet pants to the black doublet with a swirling cape attached to its collar. The cape seemed to billow in the air though no air stirred on the cliff top. He had black hair hanging down to his waist that he wore tied back with a black silk band. His roughly handsome face peered down at me with an almost fatherly look about it. He smiled a mirthless smile that parted his close cut beard and filled my soul with longing and dread. I wanted more than anything to please the man above me while at the same time desired to throw myself off the cliff like my sister to escape his terrifying visage. His voice, when he spoke, seemed to fill my entire universe. The Rivanwraiths, my sister, and my paralysis were all forgotten in the man's thunderously quiet voice.

"'Hello, my young friend. I hope you know I have done you a singular favor this night,' he said. He then moved out of my line of vision. My mind raced as I tried to focus on his words and what their portent was. When next I heard his voice, he was kneeling down beside me. At least I believed he was, for I could not see his face. When next he spoke, his voice barely rose above a whisper, yet it still thundered throughout the night sky.

"'A very singular favor indeed. For you see, you are now the last of your kind.'

"The man in black paused to let that information take root in my mind. How he knew I realized his message, I do not know, for I could not even widen my eyes in shock, but he did know. 'The Elindera are no more. Oh, I'm certain you think there are a few scattered families hiding throughout the continent, but believe me when I say, you are the last.'

"Despite my state, I could feel a tear running down the side of my face at the extermination of the people that I had drawn my life from. For I knew, just as the man in black said I would, that he spoke the truth, the Elindera were no more. Despite how the man's words had already shattered my world, they paled in comparison to the despair his next words brought to me.

"'Now you might be wondering to yourself why I have not killed you. Well, the answer is simple, my young friend. I need you.' His low chuckle matched the rolling thunder of the Rivanwraiths overhead. 'Every conqueror needs a herald, and you are mine. The continent of Merjehnali is now ripe to be conquered and time grows short before I will ravage it. The Rivanwraiths you see this night are but the first step. You will be the one to go forth and tell the races of the continent that the Undying Lord Sortinst is coming. Make sure they prepare themselves, for I want this to be the war that puts my name in the hearts of men forever… in fear.'

"I could not respond to his words, even if my mouth did work. Wild images passed through my mind of the Elindera tilling the land and building their homes and they alternated with images of the same land blackened by fire and ravaged by war. These images continued to flood my mind until I gave a strangled, wordless cry of despair. The sound of my own voice startled me out of my grief. I had control of my own voice again! I sat up in shock and looked around the now completely dark cliff and saw nothing. Only the claw furrows in the ground showed that the Rivanwraiths had ever been there. Of Lord Sortinst, there was no sign.

"I stayed there on that cliff all night, afraid to even move lest the Rivanwraiths return. That morning I went down to the base of the cliff and searched for my sister's body, but it was nowhere to be found. For the next few years I traveled the length and breadth of the land spreading Lord Sortinst's warning about the coming war. Those that did not scoff at me outright treated my words with trepidation at best. After a long while I realized this was Lord Sortinst's plan all along. He exacted his torture upon me without even having to lift a finger. I alone knew for certain of the war that was coming and could do nothing to prepare the world for its arrival."

Ephirea felt as if her heart would break listening to the tale that Oheniies laid before her. She knew a bit of what it was like to walk through the world without anyone to turn to, forced to live in a constant state of desperation. The eyes of the sage glistened in his remembered failure and Ephirea stifled a desire to try and comfort him. It would not do at all to have her friends and these assassins see her act like an old mother hen.

"The rest you all know by now, I'm certain," the sage continued, his sonorous voice not betraying the emotions on his face. "The hordes of Mirdas Morgal invaded the northern edge of Mer some three years after my meeting with Lord Sortinst. They ravaged the countryside all the way down to the Jungon Desert before their advance was stopped. The world had plunged into a time of despair, to be named years afterward as the Days of Darkness."

At the sage's pronunciation of those last words, the magical spell he had woven during his story snapped and Ephirea gave a grunt as if slapped in the face. She watched many of the others react in the same manner, all giving Oheniies glares of varying degrees afterward. She had a difficult time containing all of the questions she wished to ask the gentleman in front of her, but still had one nagging problem. Even as fascinating a tale as the man spun, he still had made no mention of what they had been looking for. He had not mentioned anything of their reason for coming here. Yayenger's Blood! What in the name of Karynys was Quillion waiting for? He was the one who was leading this thing.

She felt a shiver travel up her spine and she wrapped her arms around herself involuntarily. She hoped the Half-Elf got to the point soon. She felt a storm coming.

Quillion stood in the center of the room, almost oblivious to the people gathered therein. His mind raced over the details of the story just laid before him, committing the facts to memory before distractions drove them from his mind. The old man's tale had filled in many of the gaps left in the information he had found in the old texts in Gypsyroam. He had many questions to ask this sage who, if his story was to be believed, had lived over a thousand years. First and foremost, though, he had to find out what Oheniies knew of Vormeastion's lair. He had just opened his mouth to ask the sage what he knew when Tersiano spoke up, his metallic voice filling up the oppressive silence that followed Oheniies' last words.

"I say, there is something here that doesn't seem quite right. Even with the element of surprise and this Sortinst's reputed power, how in Tartarus could he manage to take and hold the entire northern half of Mer? There could not be enough people in Mirdas Morgal to do that even if you stacked them all on their heads to fit more in."

The sage took a couple of puffs on his pipe before answering. The amused light had returned to his eyes and he regarded the wild mage with a slightly condescending air. The forlorn expressions that painted the man's face during his tale had disappeared as if they had never existed. Quillion suspected that those exaggerated looks were necessary to weave the subtle spell the man had cast during his story.

"Why, my dear mage, you forget about the Rivanwraiths. They used their enormous power to cow the masses into submission. The conquering of northern Mer required very little in the way of bloodshed compared to many of the wars during the history of the world," came the sage's response.

Melina spoke up then, her voice cracking a bit as she asked, "If there were so many Rivanwraiths around, why do we not see them all around the world now?"

"That is a very good question, Accabashi," responded Oheniies. Melina blinked at the mention of her tribe. "What Sortinst did not count on when he created the Rivanwraiths was their fierce territorial nature. They could not work together very long without the entire operation breaking into a battle between them. Many of them killed each other off in the first few years after Sortinst's conquest. Unfortunately, when one Rivanwraith would kill another, it would take their power as well. As a result, fewer Rivanwraiths troubled the continent, but those that did were much more powerful.

"It was not known until a few hundred years ago that all of the Rivanwraiths in southwest Mer suddenly disappeared close to the end of the Days of Darkness. No one could ever explain why, but many have hypothesized. It was only then, and with the appearance of the Darkwatch, that the forces of Mirdas Morgal were finally begun to be forced back to their own foul island."

"The Darkwatch?" came Ephirea's question.

"Ah yes, well as to that, I'm certain Quillion knows as much as I," replied the sage.

Quillion kept his face stony at the mention of the Darkwatch, though his heart wanted to leap out of his chest. The Darkwatch! Finally, we will get to the real reason for being here. He saw the others turn their heads his direction and regard him with curiosity. Of course! He had not told them of Vormeastion's association but he supposed now was as good a time as any.

He opened his mouth to tell the companions about his knowledge of the Darkwatch and was again interrupted, this time by the sound of steel clashing coming through the open window of the room. He turned and headed towards the window as fast as he could without making loud noises.

"Blow that lamp out, by Meyasha, and no one draw steel," he hissed.

As he neared the window he heard a cry of pain and the sound of steel ringing lessened. He drew the curtains back a hair and peered into the alley below. There, amid the rubbage of the street, a fight raged between one of Ilithiron's assassins and three men dressed in the armor of the Czak Myar. One assassin lay on the cobblestone in a pool of blood and the other did not have long before he would join him.

Quillion debated whether to help the assassin or not, hoping that the Czak Myar would not know where to look for Oheniies' house. He had to have the information from the sage or it would not matter whether they were captured or not, for soon the entire continent would be captives of Sortinst. His eyes then roved to the stone bridge linking the balcony railing with the rooftop across the alley. Damn Tersiano and his grandstanding! That bloody eyesore would stand out for domins!

He drew away from the curtain and turned to face the group inside the room. Ilithiron stalked across the floor with a determined expression on his face. Quillion moved to stand directly in his way, forestalling him, but he spoke to the entire group.

"There's nothing we can do to help them down there. We might have been able to hide from the Czak Myar were it not for that stony monstrosity outside." He directed a scathing glance towards Tersiano, who actually appeared abashed. "That's not the case now, however. There are three Czak Myar outside and you can wager that the rest of them are coming. Here's what we must do. First, Oheniies, I need to know…"

The Half-Elf's words trailed off as he felt a chilling presence that he and the companions had felt before. Aramari's eyes grew suddenly wide and she began a high wail that slowly began to gain in volume. Her reaction to the feeling all of them had only served to confirm his thoughts. The Rivanwraith was coming. The faint sound of boots marching and metal clanging added extra urgency to that thought. The Czak Myar were coming as well.

© 1998 C.A. Lutke