Part XCIV: Swirling Smoke

Date: Kapton 4th, 114 A.U.

Flek.  Flek’s hair stood on end and then he whispered his reply, in a voice low enough so that the other’s around couldn’t hear him.

“What?”

Our alliance is having some unintended side effects that I’m worried of.

The voice sounded more compassionate than usual.  “What kind of effects?”

Didn’t you hear what Jroldin said last night?  The ‘demon’ may not be physical, but it could be.  And though I’m not a demon, words are figurative.  And I could very well be the one who will unintendedly make you the traitor.  Have you not thought of this?

“I…  I have considered it…” Flek said slowly.

We can’t let this break the bond, Flek, the voice said coldly.  You still need me, even as I need you.  But we are might be able to lessen the effects.

“What do you mean?”

I will depart from you with a portion of my spirit and only leave the part that makes you as skilled of a fighter as you are, the portion that gives you unbelievable skill.  But I will not speak or communicate, or use your body anymore until the traitor is found it.  We can’t risk it otherwise.

Flek pursed his lips.  “Very well.”

Kapton 5th, 114 A.U.

Astrid sat up in bed, blood chilled, as her cold arms grasped the metal railing on her bed before she caught her breath again.  Only a dream.  It was only a dream.  For the ninth time in the past couple months, she had had another dream concerning her murder of the man in Araelia, an event which she had tried to block out of her memory for the most part.  But it was still occurring. 

Astrid left her sleeping quarters into the empty main room of the ship as she looked out the glass windows at the darkness around the ship, where it rested on the ground.  After nearly being suicidal after the murder and on the brink of leaving Araelia forever, she had gotten caught up in the whole Xavier Team ordeal and had been distracted from having to deal with the consequences for her actions.  She had almost forgotten about it.  But her subconscious mind still remembered.  And the dreams haunted her.

“I didn’t want to,” Astrid whispered, as she placed her hand against the cold glass, wishing not for the first time in her life that she had made a different choice there, that her old choice could be undone.  But there was no forgiveness for her—no way to make it that her sin never happened.  And though Monty claimed that the Great One offered forgiveness and a way to start a fresh life, Astrid still wasn’t fully convinced that he was right. 

Kapton 6th, 114 A.U.

“So this is it,” Jroldin said as he looked up and down at the ruins of the city nestled in the crag of the mountains.

“This is it,” Reynyagn said.  “The former capitol city of the Sla’ad Empire.  It was a glorious city back in the day, albeit one that was swamped with the corruption of the tyrannic king.”

“I suppose there’s no reason not to do it now, then,” Augger said.  “If we are going to split up, we might as well do it now.”

“Yes,” Reynyagn said softly.  “Augger and I have the radios, and so I suppose it’s better to do it sooner rather than later.  Hagion will work with Augger and his team on going around the neighboring mountains with the information that Hagion was able to give us about the troop movements and the strategic decisions made when attacking the chief city, and I’ll go with the other group to investigate the city itself and what traces of the Arglem we can find there.”  And after bidding each other farewell, the two groups separated, on their separate ways on course to find the Arglem.

“The Sla’ad couldn’t have had their treasure trove on that half of this mountainous area,” Hagion was saying as he gestured toward part of it.  Our troops were primarily in this direction and had its extremities on that mountain and this one.  So unless they chose to undergo severe risks to place it on our side, it likely is beyond us, closer to where the mountains reach the sea at the end of the Sla’ad empire.”

“Which mountains is the most likely?” Flek asked.

“The further away from the battle lines, the more likely I think they’d be,” Hagion said.  “I’d almost wonder if the trove was placed in one of the mountains adjacent to the sea, though the sea is miles away from the city, if only because if part of their back-up plan was to escape by ship, then the trove would be right next to them and on their path of departure.”

“The Sla’ad we spoke to never seemed to give the impression that escape by ship was an actual option,” Augger commented.  “Actually, just remembering what he said, he indicated that the sea was mostly controlled and watched by the dwarven fleets and that was why there wasn’t any escape that way.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Hagion said.  “Just needed to jog my memory a bit there.  Yes, the Sla’ad were caught between two opposing forces on land and sea, and the elves very much controlled the air, even at that time before the Great Upheaval, so that there was not only nowhere to run, but few places to hide it as well.”

“It would have to be invisible to those in the air as well,” Monty said.  “Mayhaps in the pits of the mountains we’d have a better chance of finding it.”

“Further down and further in then,” Astrid said.  And so they went.

Part XCIII: Shifting Momentum

Date: Kapton 10th, 144 A.U.

“High Priest Jaine is now taking the stage,” the newscaster announced as the camera flashed to him.  “The weights and expectations of many are now looming after Myrik’s strange disappearance which some who still cling to the faith in the Mothertree claim was her act.  We now turn it over to our reports at their scene as they record Jaine’s remarks.”

“We are gathered here again at the request of the Mothertree,” Jaine said, beginning in a soft voice as Lord-Protector Freglak watched with narrow eyes at the television screen.  “The Mothertree has spoken again, calling us to listen to her as she reveals her will through me.  Your leaders have deserted you, having deserted her herself long ago.  We fight a losing battle against the elves, lost already because our leaders have abandoned their faith in the Old Weapons.  They have forsaken the weapons of old, and we will fall by their might.  Do you hear the words of the Mothertree?  No victory can be wrought with the Old Weapons.”

"We’re beating the elves!” someone from the crowd cried.

Jaine turned toward them.  “Are we?” he whispered.  “Are we?  Behold, a battle rages this day.  And I tell you the truth—a truth to those who came here looking for a sign, for some exciting miracle from the Mothertree.  This is the word of the Mothertree for you, O sign-seekers.  Beyond all expectations, our forces will lose their winning streak today.  The battle that rages today will be a catastrophic defeat for our forces—the sign of the Mothertree that we are helpless without her. Hear the Word of the Mothertree!”

Lord Freglak leapt up.  Was Jaine really so stupid so as to base his ambitions on a guess?  Or did he know more than he should about this situation?  A knot began to form in his stomach, and he raced for his phone.

The first onslaught of elves at their cliff was beaten back easily.  Major Erklen looked with pride and their anti-aircraft weapons that had so beautifully beaten back the first wave of elven troops—and they hadn’t needed the dragon’s assistance!  After Flindle had nearly lost control of it, Major Erklen had been trying to keep it back and unused as long as they didn’t need it to win.  They couldn’t afford another setback.

His phone rang and he picked it up.  “Yes?”

“Erklen?  This is Lord-Protector Freglak!” the voice boomed in.  “Listen—I need you to be absolutely prepared for the elves.  High Priest Jaine has just predicted that the elves are going to launch an assault on you today and completely overwhelm you.”

“They just began it,” Erklen said, looking at the next wave of airships coming up from the desert.  “But you needn’t listen to the prattling concerns of a deposed priest.  He has no power anymore.”

“I’ve told you before about the so-called ‘miracles’ he has wrought,” Freglak said.  “We can’t take any risks!”

"I’ll play it safe,” Major Erklen said.  And after Freglak gave him one last warning, Major Erklen shut his phone.  The missiles went out again, streaking toward the elven airships that again too easily failed to avoid them and were horribly shot down.  The elves were complete fools—this would be an easy assault to put down.  The third wave came up and Erklen nodded his head.

Suddenly, there was a roaring and Major Erklen turned to the side to see a whole battalion of airships coming from the side—in a part of the desert the elves had never set up camp before.  A whole legion of elven reinforcements were behind them—how had this gone unnoticed?

“Unleash the Elder Dragon!” Major Erklen roared as he ran back from the front line.  “The elves have got in reinforcements!  All hands to the guns to repel the enemy!”

There was a roar, and the Elder Dragon burst up through the trees, Flindle on his back, as he watched Flindle guide it toward the approaching onslaught.  Guns went off and Erklen watched as the elven forces fought back.  The first two waves had been a feint, Erklen clearly saw—a chance to get them to waste their ammo.  Now trying to avoid the missiles, the attackers quickly took out many of their missiles as the Elder Dragon kept back the other flank.

There was another roar from the Elder Dragon and Erklen narrowed his eyes as he watched them fight.  Something was wrong.  The Elder Dragon seemed a bit off—too unpredictable and seeming to go every which way, tossing and turning so as to escape.  And then it broke. 

Wheeling away from the aircraft it shot out hard towards their defenses, breathing fire as it decimated a whole squad of goblin gunners in an instant.  With a yell Erklen sprinted away from the fire just in time to see the dragon wheel and snap its whole body, trying to dislodge Flindle, but failing.  As the goblin aircraft came out, the Elder Dragon surged towards them, breaking them in pieces as the elves came in behind.

“Get control of the Elder Dragon!” Major Erklen roared into its walkie-talkie toward Flindle.  “Take it down at all costs!”

The phone rang and Lord-Protector Freglak moved to grab it.  It was Erklen.

“Yes?” Lord Freglak asked.  “What do you have to report to me, Major?”

“The elves,” Major Erklen gasped out through it.  “They got in reinforcements that we hadn’t noticed before, Freglak!  We were completely unprepared for this assault!  And the Elder Dragon got loose again!”

Lord Freglak’s heart chilled.  “What are you saying, Erklen?”

“It was a rout—a bloody routing of our forces, Lord Freglak!  We didn’t stand a chance against them.  By the time Flindle regained control of the Elder Dragon, it was too late.  We have been pushed back from the cliffs back to our previous line of defense in the forest.  And from what we see, the elves just got a whole new load of reinforcements following after the battle.  I completely failed to see it coming, Lord Freglak.  I-”

Freglak shut the phone, cutting Erklen off and stared at the wall in numbness.  They had been pushed back, fine.  They could lose a battle every once in a while.  But High Priest Jaine had been right.  Beyond explanation, he had known what was going to happen.

And for the first time in his life, Freglak began to doubt his unbelief in the Mothertree.

Part XCII: Moving On

Date: Kapton 3rd, 114 A.U.

It was approaching midday when the aircraft with the rest of the Xavier Team finally arrived.  Flek, Astrid, Monty, Number 994, and Hagion stood and watched as the airship came to land in the midst of the ruins of the Fortress of Varasheet, the sight of the great slaughter that had commenced when the last of the Sla’ad were finally routed, and when Jaigran finally broke and gave into the passions that were fueled within him.

“Greetings,” Reynyagn said, disembarking.  “It is good to meet you.  Where is-”

“Zarien was captured by the elves,” Monty said quietly as Reynyagn’s companions came around behind him.  “Hagion has been immensely helpful in figuring out where the Arglem might be…  But we have grievous news about our party as well.”

“So.  Zarien is captured, there’s a spy in the midst of us, but we have a pretty good ball park for the Arglem?” Brother Tomas asked, confirming what they had just discussed over dinner.

“Yes, as well as your information about the Mothership,” Flek replied.  “Hagion here has confessed to hearing as much from the officials.  There isn’t any way to get around it.  We have a spy in the midst of our half of the group.”  Silence fell over the crowd.

“It has to be your half?” Reynyagn said quietly.  “It couldn’t be that-”

“No,” Flek responded.  “From what we’ve found from Hagion and from what happened, they knew the intricacies of the plan too well.  It couldn’t be from something we told you, and it isn’t possible that someone else intercepted the airwaves and betrayed us, though that could have also happened.  Of the five of us: Astrid, Monty, Number 994, Zarien, and I—one of us is a traitor.”

“The rising hope must rise if it will destroy the darkness,” Augger whispered.  “Two leaders from among them will seek to lead them as one. Although in unity, yet one from the group may rebel.  The traitor seeks to undermine what all their work have wrought.  His struggle with the demon will determine victory. It’s all recorded in the prophesy.”

“A demon,” Reynyagn remarked.  “What demon do we struggle with?”

“The word was not used then as it is used now,” Augger replied.  “Back then, the word was not used literally as much as it was used to signify a burning desire—a evil desire fueled in the persons heart that was their chief vice which they had to conquer.  What the prophesy is saying is that one of us is struggling with something.  And that our success depends on whether or not they win, or the ‘demon’ inside of them wins.  This is the struggle that I believe the Emperor struggled with.  He lost, and so I believe that although for a short time it appeared that the Xavier Team had won, it has become all too apparent that they lost epicly.”

"What are we to do then?”

“What can we do?” Jroldin asked.  “If the prophesy is true, and I do believe it to be true—then we don’t have much of a choice here.  Or at least—only one of us has the choice.  Someone here is a traitor among us.  His course isn’t set in stone, but he will have to decide whether or not he is going to go over to the passions that is committing him against us, or if he will reject it and fight with us.  The only solution for the traitor who now sits among us is to turn back from the course that he has begun to set himself to and beat back the desires inside of him.  What other choice do we have? 

“We can let our group take the lead since none of us can be the traitor.  and leave the others in the dark, but what will that gain us?  There are two leaders among us that the prophesy indicates will seek to unify the group, whom I believe are Reynyagn and Augger.  Why were we given two leaders?  Nothing in the Xavier Prophesy has been said with no reason.  We were given two leaders so that we might be able to damper the traitor, to keep him down until he can change his mind and stop betraying us.  We must split into two halves, Reynyagn leading the one and Augger leading the other.  They are both beyond reproach and will act as the two who correspond with each other.  We have been given a ballpark from Hagion on where the Arglem might be.  We must now function separately, as we have done in order to get this far, in order to secure it.”

“You have indeed mastered the prophesy…” Reynyagn murmured.  “What you have said is evident now that I look back.  We must keep the traitor as much under control as we can until he can repent, if that is to be his goal.”

“And what about Zarien?” Astrid asked.  “He’s been captured and is already at the Mothership by now.  What are we to do with him?”

“Nothing, if we are to refrain from sabotaging the entire mission,” Reynyagn said softly.  “We have to trust the prophesy and the Great One to guide him back to us.  To rescue him would require us infiltrating the Mothership, a task which we are woefully unprepared to do.  Our only chance will arise once the other Sla’ad finish the blueprints they have been compiling of the MOthership, and by that it may as well be too late.”  Number 994 stared at the ground.

It was dark as Number 994 stared at the canopy of the tent above him, his heart beating as he tried to keep back the impulses and the whispers that were arising inside of him.  How else could they have been betrayed?  He had put his full mind in key with the computers as part of his job of making sure none of the alarm systems went off at the prison camp.  He had heard that it was possible before—that he would have to have absolute concentration in order to keep his thoughts from running out into the systems he would be working with.  And he had known all of the plans.

He still had not completely decided what to do with the Xavier Team.  After the long journey south from the Northlands, he had been reconciled so much with Zarien, and he had seen their efforts so much that he had nearly been on the breaking point of mentally abolishing Emperor Jaigran for good and being in full heart and spirit with the Xavier Team.  But now it seemed like he was already marked as the traitor—that he was already unconsciously fueling them with information.  And if he couldn’t stop himself from betraying his teammates then, how was he to stop himself now?

Question of the Day: Conspiracy Theory time!  What is your conspiracy theory about the Arquenia Saga?

Pts!  Warbaron: 20, Bessie Lark: 3, Elspeth: 1

Part XCI: Whirling Clouds

Date: Kapton 2nd, 114 A.U.

Oldin wearily sat down at his desk, his eyes glancing at the new watch that sat on his hand.  It had come out a week ago and had quickly become the rage of Araelia, nearly selling out in a couple of days, although the company promised that they had more coming.  Not only a watch, it also was able to access your cell phone and form a holographic image of the person you were talking to, if they were also using the watch.  And as a result of an impressively large and successful ad campaign, the C-Watches were all the rage.  And Oldin, though he generally didn’t pay much attention to fads, had liked the technology enough that he had fitted his whole team with them. 

Oldin quickly brought up the files showing their tracking on the mysterious elf group that had been sabotaging their every effort to track it down.  The group still seemed to be connected with the inexplicable heart attacks that had now killed ten of their best men.  It had gone up far too much to be a mere coincidence; no, Oldin was sure that they were connected—that they had figured out some way to kill a man in a way that it looked like a heart attack.  And there they had been stuck for months, continuing to try to find leads, and having the leads dashed at every corner as each of their men that was just about to make a huge lead was suddenly killed by this rogue group.

Oldin pursed his lips.  They needed a plan.  They had to come up with something new—some ingenious way to break through the hold that this group had put them in for so long.  They had tried always having microphones on their agents, but the elven rebel group had managed to tangle their signals in response.  And as much as he had tried to help, Iraina still hadn’t come up with any solution either, keeping them in a state of gridlock, unable to do anything against the elves while the elves danced around with their plan, unscathed from the attacks.

Oldin was getting desperate, which was never a good thing.  Because when he was desperate, he’d end up trying to do the job himself.  And as much as he might try to rationalize it, Oldin knew that being desperate never helped anything.  But, standing up, Oldin decided that he was desperate.  And there really wasn’t any avoiding what he wanted to do right now.  So he headed out the door.

The latest lead was a man named James McDonnell, who seemed connected with the elf group.  Oldin had already figured out that the man was gone for the day on business.  And so it was time to investigate.  He could have assigned it to someone else, but those plans never worked.  Oldin had tried purging their system many times to hunt out spies or bugs, but had so far failed.  And so, not wanting to get another agent killed, he was taking things into his own hands.

Slinking toward the house, Oldin checked for noticeable cameras and then ran up to the door, unlocking it with a fake key he had before letting himself in, shutting the door behind him.  It was the standard type of house in Araelia, with the room layout nearly identical to his setup in his house.

The computer brought up no interesting results, although Oldin did manage to find the security tapes, quickly running their high-tech password-breaker to get in and editing it to erase the couple hours in which he’d be at the house.  After making sure that all the security cameras were off, he continued the search.  At the very least, the fact that James would have security tapes was something.  An average citizen wouldn’t have as many security cameras as James did, giving further ground to Oldin’s suspicions.

Oldin quickly placed a bug on his telephone before moving upstairs.  There had been a lot of security cameras placed near a section of the hallway, a section which Oldin was curious to investigate.  After walking around in the other rooms, he was sure of it.  In all other houses of this type, there was a closet in the hallway that didn’t appear to be in this house, which meant…

After much trial and error, Oldin finally found the tiny slit to place his fingers in and opened the secret door, revealing the hidden closet within, full of C-Watches and what looked like various prototypes for it.  Oldin furrowed his brow.  How was this connected to it?  He remembered noticing that James worked for the company that produced the C-Watches but was this just so that no one else could see the company’s work beforehand, or was it for a darker purpose?  And why would James have brought the prototypes here?  Oldin remembered the workplace that James had converted his basement to and wondered if James took them home with him to try to fix at his home office.  After gingerly taking a couple of the prototypes, Oldin shut the door and stepped back.  That had been surprisingly easy—too easy for sneaking into the house of a suspect.

After making sure that everything he had moved was in its proper place, Oldin swiftly exited the house, a lot on his mind as he quickly got to the car and began driving back to the office.  He had run a guard around him to keep him from being shot by the terrorist group, but he’d managed to make this mission without them.  Now to get back to the office and make sure he was well-protected there as he began to figure out what the link was between the terrorist group, James McDonnell, and the C-watches.

If there even was one.

Part XC: Plans in Motion

Date: Kornun 30th, 114 A.U.

Arzjlan slouched against the tree, wondering why they still had to keep watch for the elven airships.  He hadn’t seen any in all the times that he’d been on watch, and he’d been on a watch many time for their tribe of Sla’ad.  Nevertheless, it was his duty, and it was a duty that he had sworn to fulfill. 

Straightening up, Azjlan looked through the night vision goggles at the sky around and still saw nothing, before looking around at the hills around.  Ever since the elves had taken control and few dared to walk in open ground, without anyone to hunt them, the wild beasts had grown more and more numerous and spread out, no longer confined to the places where they could best hide from them.  That, in Azjlan’s mind, was what he most was to look out for: wild animals that could tear their camp to shreds.  There had been quite a few times that he’d had to fend against them.

Azjlan turned again to gaze out at the night sky, running his gaze across the sky but still saw nothing. 

Ten elves slowly slid down on ropes, guns in their teeth as they silently exited from the silent airship.  According to the radar, there was one person outside the camp, on one of the hills around it.  But he still had not seen them.  Moving silently, they moved forward toward the tree where they had finally deduced that he was.  For a sentry—if that was what he was, which most of the leaders had assumed—he had forgotten the most obvious rule.  Never turn your back to one side.  Once this Sla’ad was incapacitated, they would have free rein to drop their elves all around the other side of the camp and surround it before coming in.

Azjlan rubbed his head as he looked back up at the sky before looking at his watch.  His watch should be over soon.  It probably wouldn’t hurt to go back and see where his replacement was.  Straightening up he moved beside the tree and by chance looked back.  And Azjlan screamed.


Moving down the hill as fast as he could, Azjlan heard the shots firing behind him, feeling many of them bounce off his elusive flesh.  Even the fact that the gun shots couldn’t hurt him seeing as he was a Sla’ad didn’t make Azjlan feel any better.  He had failed his tribe.  At a most crucial time.

"Attack!  Attack!  We’re under attack!” Azjlan roared as he rushed forward.  “We’re under attack!  Get to your arms!”  Sla’ad started bursting out of the tent as Azjlan moved forward, watching with his night vision goggles as all around the outskirts of the camp, elves slid down on their zip lines.  How could he have failed his people at such a crucial time?

Azjlan quickly joined the others, having left the elves behind for a moment as he turned toward them.  “They’re surrounding us on our sides!” he said.  “I beg your pardon—I failed-”

“None of that right now,” their leader, Zavarja roared.  “Get all of the women and children behind us, Hzavlar.  We can’t be compassed about on our sides.  We will take down the elves from this side and then form a battalion to guard those behind.”

Azjlan turned around to see the elves coming down the hill, guns firing, as Hzavlar ran back to gather the rest of the people.  Azjlan began to feel his spirits again moving upward.  If the elves thought that the gun bullets would hurt them, they would be woefully unprepared for the revelation that gun bullets had no impact on Sla’ad.  And after their Emperor had marked the corsha weapons as ancient and outdated, there would be no chance of them having the one weapon that could hurt them.  Azjlan drew out his corsha rezquiert as the elves rushed upon them, the Sla’ad drawing their weapons to repel these foolish elves.

Suddenly, the elves twisted and turned, pulling glowing daggers out of their pouches as they suddenly hurled themselves upon them with a new vigor.  Azjlan gave a cry as many surprised Sla’ad were instantly cut down, not expecting the elves to have corsha weapons on them.  Swinging his rezquiert, Azjlan slashed the face of one the elves as the elf stumbled backwards as several Sla’ad behind him drew their guns.

Guns fired, but before they could meet their target, an orc behind the elves sent them flinging aside with his lightning bolts.  No, no, no.  Azjlan hurled himself forward, swinging his rezquiert around like a mad man.  There was a sudden blow to his head.  And, seeing stars, Azjlan fell back into darkness.


“I just got a message back from our commander,” the Watcher said.  “Our forces quickly surprised and overcame the Sla’ad with an elaborate feint of pretended ignorance.  They captured two of the Sla’ad for you to question—an older Sla’ad who was part of the defense forces at the capital city, and a younger Sla’ad, who may be a useful tool to get the older Sla’ad to succumb to our methods of re-education.”

“Very good,” Emperor Jaigran said.  “Perhaps they would also know about the Sla’ad who stalks me.”

The Watcher bristled.  “You are mad, Jaigran, if you still believe in a Sla’ad that stalks you.”

"I am not mad!” Jaigran snapped.  “I have seen him lurking in the shadows, never leaving them for fear of being seen, but merely waiting and biding his time.  I nearly died once before finding you.  I will not let him get at me again.”

"You have mixed nightmare with reality,” the Watcher retorted.  “For such a brilliant mind to have conceived the Great Upheaval, you already appear to be falling to the paranoia that have haunted so many a great ruler.  It is such paranoia that have caused their downfall.”

“I will not fall for this,” Jaigran snapped, glaring at his ally.  “I am following by your principles: namely, to leave nothing loose and to assume nothing about the enemy. I will not be defeated by some cheap assassination.  We will question the Sla’ad about many things once they’ve been re-educated.  Teach them all the things you want.  But I will ask them my questions.”

“Very well.”

Question of the Day: What are your thoughts on the Sla'ad whom Jaigran thinks is stalking him?

Pts!  Warbaron: 17, Bessie Lark: 3, Elspeth: 1

Part LXXXIX: Departure

Date: Kornun 27^th, 114 A.U.

Reynyagn left the rest of the Xavier Team, finishing up their packing, and ran across the field, his shadowy form moving fluidly through the landscape until he came to his old tent and slipped in.  His wife came up to meet him, gazing at him with sad eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Reynyagn whispered, embracing her.  “It seems wrong that after being gone for so long, at a time when you counted me dead, that I should return for such a short time, only to leave again.”

“You must,” his wife replied, biting back her visible tears.  “What comfort would it be to me if you rejected our cause of taking down the Emperor in order to stay with me?  Our children need a better future.  You are doing an honorable thing, Reynyagn, one you were trained your whole life to be able to accomplish.  All of your achievements have led you up to this task.  How can I stand in the way of you accomplishing this purpose?  Go, and may the blessing of the Great One be with you.”

“I love you too,” Reynyagn replied.  “And as soon as our victory is won, I’ll come back to get you.”

“I know,” she replied.  “And I will keep waiting until that day comes, Reynyagn.  Until death do us part.”

           

“Well,” Tzjearjlan said.  “I regret that we could not welcome you here longer—I would have been intrigued to hear more of your mysterious kind that has been kept hidden for so many centuries—but I suppose that it is your duty to carry on and figure out how you can stop the Emperor and his army of elves.”

“Yes,” Augger said.  “I believe that when it’s all said and done, that many will be looking for more information about us, as I can scarcely feign that we would still be kept hidden when the war is over.  I hope to try to return to the chief city of the auggers, whose location I have found in my memories, and try to make restitution there for what my ancestor did.  And then with all the augger-slayers gone, mayhaps we may again come out into the open.”

 “I hope so as well,” Tzjearjlan said.  “Though to tell you the truth, I expect your experience will be one similar to many here.  We have all suffered harm at the hands of the elves.  Yours won’t be the only group coming out of isolation, though you have experienced it more than the rest of us.”

“Aye,” Augger said.  “Did Brother Tomas give you the spare radio to communicate with us?”

“He did indeed,” Tzjearjlan said.  “We’ll notify you as soon as we’ve collected all the blueprints of the Mothership into one master document.  And always know that if you ever need us, we have the resources to lend you not only our men for war, but also to try to lead the other wandering Sla’ad tribes into sending men to join you in making war on the elves.”

“I thank you for your support,” Augger said.  “I know not what our plans will be once we have found the Arglem and once we have the blueprint of the Mothership, but we’ll have a lot more than we started with.  And perhaps by working together with the goblins and the Resistance, we will be able to come up with a plan.”

“I hope so as well,” Tzjearjlan said.  “Fare ye well with your travelings.”

“And with yours.”

 

Reynyagn shut the door on the luggage hold before stepping back to look at the ship that they had prepared, which the Sla’ad had graciously donated them to be able to quicken their return to the assigned meeting place to meet up with the rest of the team.  The Sla’ad had given them all the information they had on the Arglem and where it might be found, enough to at least guide them in a vague direction of where the Arglem might be.  Reynyagn hoped that the rest of the team had been able to gather the rest of the information they’d need to find it.  And with a deft nod, he moved to the cockpit where the others were ready.

The Sla’ad waved them off as they went, moving upwards into the air before they leveled out to cruise over the plains.  And with that Reynyagn breathed out a pent-up sigh.  They had accomplished their purpose for their leg of the journey.  Their part of this mission was over.

“Well,” Augger said, obviously feeling the same feelings as Reynyagn.  “That trip went well.”

“Yes,” Brother Tomas said.  “Not only do we have as much information as we could get, although I suspect we all would have wanted more, but in a few months, they ought to have as close to a complete blueprint of the Mothership done, which would unarguably aid us in defeating them if events so transpire.”

“Yeah…” said Jroldin, generally agreeing with everyone else there.  “Now to put the information we have into action.”

"Yes,” Brother Tomas said.  “And may the blessing of the Great one be upon us."

Question of the Day:

Posting this a day late after working all day yesterday for the Romney campaign and then staying up until 1:00 to watch election results...  Many apologies for the lateness...

Part LXXXVIII: Awakening

Date: Kornun 21st, 114 A.U.

The sun was shining directly into his face when Zarien woke up, finding himself no longer in a darkened room, but in blinding light.  Startled, and expecting to find himself in the Mothership, Zarien turned around as he realized his lack of any real bonds apart from the seat belt to find himself in a small airship that looked like an escape pod.  There were two elves—one with wings, in the front row of the ship.  And Cortna, asleep, was sitting across the small two-foot aisle from him.

"Cortna!”  Zarien said, moving to undo the seat belt that loosely held him in.

“Stop.”  One of the two elves in the front turned back to look at him, alarm in her eyes.

“Hey!” Zarien said, staring at her.  “You were that elf that were at the Citadel-”

"Yes, I’m Sereth—the one that you mistook for my twin sister,” the elf said curtly. “And before you continue-”

“But I haven’t seen Cortna for such a long time,” Zarien said, undoing his seat belt.  “I-”

“Stop,” Sereth snapped, and Zarien noticed a tinge of pain in her eyes.  “That’s why you have to stop and listen,” she said in a quieter voice.  “Cortna…  she isn’t like she used to be, Zarien.”

“What do you mean?”

“I…  I don’t know how you used to know each other,” Sereth said.  “Although since you’re part of the Xavier Team, I would assume that you met her in the resistance group she was a part of, but…  She got captured, Zarien.”

“I know,” Zarien said.  “I thought she was dead—but she’s still alive, and-”

“The Emperor indoctrinated her, Zarien.”

Zarien’s blood ran cold.  “What?!”

“The Emperor broke her in order to gain all the secrets he could from her before forcing her into submission,” Sereth whispered, one tear running down her cheek.  “She won’t recognize you, Zarien.  She is a devout Imperialist, although she doesn’t know exactly what Hazael and I are doing.  She’s barely alive, almost like a robot in how she conducts herself…  She’s broken, Zarien.  She’s broken.”

The escape pod slowly pulled into the port of the relatively small ship, workmen guiding it in and making sure it was secure before the door opened and the inhabitants came out.  With some quick words to the workers, the group continued inside, Sereth holding Cortna tightly, Zarien trailing behind, not exactly sure about what to do, as they walked in.

“I’m going to take Cortna to her room so that we don’t have to mask our words while talking to the leader,” Sereth said.  “You two can go on ahead; Hazael, you can introduce Zarien to him, and I’ll return soon.”

“Let me help with Cortna,” Zarien quickly volunteered.  “I-”

“You will do no such thing,” Sereth snapped, whirling around to face him.  “She is my sister and you have no right upon her.”

Zarien opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t get the words out.  How was he to explain how deep his relationship with Cortna had been, or what it might have been?

“I have no sister,” Cortna emotionlessly muttered as Sereth prodded her along down the hall.

“Let’s go…” Hazael said quietly, and after a moment’s hesitation, Zarien followed.

Zarien hadn’t been expecting the leader of the elven resistance group to bow to him the moment they met.

“But of course it is my duty,” the leader, an elf named Rezja responded as he straightened up.  “After all, as a member of the Xavier Team, you are one of the seven leaders in our effort to overthrow the elven anarchy.  We’ve been tracking you for some time though we haven’t managed to make contact with you yet.”

“I see…” Zarien said, and then he suddenly jerked up.  “You’ve been tracking us?!”

“Over your radios,” Rezja said.  “Don’t be alarmed.  We have limited access into the elven central system, but we’ve intercepted the waves enough so that they think they’ve already analyzed their content when they haven’t.  The elves have a greatly sophisticated tracking system for radio waves.  You were lucky to get caught by us.”

“I see…” Zarien said again, pondering this for a minute before looking back up.  “So how many men are part of your group.”

            “Well, our number is embarrassingly few,” Rezja said.  “There are less than a hundred men and we only have a handful of bases around the elven ships.  Still, we’re working on it, and given that we only started a year ago, we feel like we’ve made much progress.”

“I assume the elves think this airship is one of their own?” Zarien asked.

“It’s in their computer systems as some exploratory ship or whatever,” Rezja said.

“Was our group in contact with yours?” Zarien asked, narrowing his gaze.

“At the time that your group was in operation, we were still working on making this ship and giving it the right specifications to escape the elves’ notice,” Rezja said.  “It was a month or so after your group met its final demise that we began looking for contacts in other places.”

“I see…” Zarien said, repeating the phrase for the third time that meeting as Sereth entered the room. 

“So, why are you here?” Rezja asked.

“I’ll speak for him,” Sereth interrupted.  “We were watching their mission to rescue Hagion.  They found and rescued Hagion, but Zarien here got captured.  He was on route to the Mothership when we broke him out of his prison.  We haven’t been able to pick up any communication from the rest of the Xavier Team, and so we brought him here.”

“And what do you plan to do here?” Rezja asked.

“Figure out how to get back with the rest of my team, before they plan some big search and rescue mission to find me,” Zarien said.  “Can we contact them?”

“Unfortunately, not,” Rezja said.  “Although our equipment can pick up your signal and make the elves think that they’ve already examined it, our equipment can’t send out a precise-enough signal to communicate with your channels.  It’s a bit complicated to someone non-versed in your field, but basically we can receive anything from a 2.6 to a 3.0 signal, but we can’t narrow down what your signal is enough to know if it’s a 2.718 or a 2.743, and so on.  Our best hope of returning you to them is to wait until they use them again, either to communicate to each other, or with your Resistance base back home, and hopefully they’ll drop a hint to where they are or where they’re going.”

“Shoot,” Zarien said glumly.  “I had left it up to the others to know the precise location of our meeting place is...  So I’m stuck here?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Rezja said.  “Until they can use their long-distance radios…  You’re stuck.”

Question of the Day: What should Zarien do now?

Or not...  I forgot to put it on my list, so I didn't post last Thursday.  I'll do it next THursday then, since I'm a bit behind...

Part LXXXVII: Rebirth of the Mothertree

Kornun 29th, 114 A.U.

"The elves have begun to press stronger on our forces, sir,” the hologram of Major Erklen spoke.  “We have held our ground and are continuing to make progress, but it has become evident by the ships going to and from the elven forces that they have finally begun to bring their own reinforcements to the battle.  As such, our current forces will not do.  We need more reinforcements to continue to fight back the elves effectively.  I now stand to receive my orders, sir.”

“I will gather more goblins and more equipment for you to fight the elves,” Lord-Protector Freglak spoke.  “The elves have finally realized that they are in danger of being defeated by us, but their realization has come too late.  Attack them in one large assault to bring them down before enough reinforcements come.  We will visit a colossal humiliating defeat upon them.  And they will know that their reign of terror is coming to an end over Arquenia.”



“You have heard the tales.  You have believed the rumors.  You have seen the sacrilege that has been committed day after day upon our grounds,” Jaine whispered as he moved in front of the audience, his shoulders hunched, a wild look in his eyes.  “You have seen the blasphemy that has been committed in front of our faces day by day by our Lord, the goblin who would claim the title of Protector for himself.  You have asked—you have questioned your beliefs because the Mothertree slumbers.  You have wondered if power yet resided in the Protector of the goblins.  And I stand before you to  announce that it does.  The Mothertree still liveth and has appeared to be, anointing me to proclaim a new Order of the Mothertree.  The infidels and the hypocrites have been purged and now we stand to bring together a new Order—an Order where we will rise to greatness such as has never been seen before.  The Mothertree has awakened.  And we will rise out of the ashes.

“Do you question my words?  Do you ask for signs?  Do you seek proof, proof that the Mothertree still lives and that she slumbers not?  O ye of little faith, that ye doubt the word of the High Priest, the spokesman of the Mothertree.  Yet has she heard your cries and your pleas.  She accepts your request.  Behold!  The power of the Mothertree!”  There was the whistling of the wind in the air and the branches of the trees swayed back and forth as the small audience looked around, wondering if High Priest Jaine had finally snapped into insanity. 

Suddenly, the branches moved, morphing as they moved together, surrounding Jaine like a halo as they moved around, new shoots growing off of them as the dead branches burst into full bloom, weaving into a wreath as the audience below them gasped in amazement and wonder.

“The Mothertree lives!” High Priest Jaine cried out as the Mothertree stretched out its branches again to its original position.  “She has awakened to restore parts of the old and to awaken a New order!  We live by the rules that we were founded on, but we go forward in a new future and mission that the Mothertree has revealed to us!  As the Spring brings forth new life on the barren tree, so will we reclaim our former glory and more.  The Mothertree has spoken to me and this she has said: ‘From the race of the goblins, I will call forth an order to bring an end to the reign of the elves.  I will restore the former glory of the goblins and by my power will you stand upon the necks of your enemies.’  Thus has the Mothertree spoken!  You have seen your power; now stand in awe and bow your heads.  Proclaim the Mothertree as your own again and spread the news that the Mothertree liveth!”

“Liar!”  There was a hush, as Jaine looked across the crowd, to see who had spoken.

“You lie!”  A goblin stood up, pointing his finger at Jaine.  Jaine knew who he was.  Myrik was a feisty media person who ran a popular show on one of the television networks, and an adamant supporter of Freglak. 

“You have conjured tricks to try to throw a veil over our eyes,” Myrik continued.  “What is this miracle you claim to show us but an illusion—something which never happened but which you made us believe happened.  If the Mothertree is what you claim it is, prove it.  Like you had any possibility of doing so.”

Jaine narrowed his eyes, seething hatred toward Myrik.  Like he could control the Mothertree with the flick of a button.  The blasphemy of Myrik’s claim.  Jaine opened his mouth to speak, but before he could speak, a loud groaning went through the tree and Jaine stepped back. 

Wind passed by the Mothertree and it swayed.  Suddenly, large roots burst up out of the ground.  Myrik gave a scream as the roots suddenly grasped him, lifting him up into the air as he struggled, the roots producing spikes which drove into his flesh, rippling through him as he gasped out an inaudible word.  And then the root doubled down, sinking to the earth as it took Myrik down with him, the earth closing again over them as Myrik disappeared from sight.

Silence fell upon the crowd as they stared at the ground, looking like nothing had happened.  A couple news reporters fled, wishing that they had had the foresight to bring video cameras to capture the incident on tape. 

And then Jaine spoke, speaking in a whisper that the listeners strained their ears to here.  “Behold her power,” Jaine whispered.  “The blasphemer has gotten what he wished for.  The Mothertree has wracked her own vengeance on the goblin that would dare stand against her.  The Mothertree lives and a new Order has risen up to carry her spirit and her power on to victory.  Now go out and spread the word.  Let it ring in the treetops: The Mothertree lives.”