_Well, I apologize for not posting on Saturday... Like I afore said, I was at an NCFCA speech tournament and thus was unable to post... So, we will return to posting the Arquenia Saga. We need a new prize for a new comment contest though...

Suggestions?

Part XXXX: Maneuvers

Date: Yippah 9th, 114 A.U.

“The elves have taken the Northern Crag,” the messenger said.

Freglak pursed his lips as he stood up. “How great of a force did they have?”

“We estimated thirty thousand troops have landed in the crag so far,” the messenger said. “They attacked with a couple thousand—as well as a great many aircraft. Not the Mothership at the very least, but they still destroyed the guard of five hundred goblins and any other outposts on the crag.”

“What were the casualties?”

“Nearly all of our men were lost in the attack,” the messenger said. “However, they suffered heavy casualties. Estimates are coming in that they lost more than half of their attacking force and a good many airships. A few survivors said that they nearly won out against the first wave of elves, but after the second wave came in, it was too much.”

“They have a foothold in the forest then…” Freglak mused.

“Yes sir,” the messenger replied. “Major Erken says that his troops are ready and the plans are waiting to be executed.”

“Good,” Freglak said. “You may leave.” He walked toward the large circular table, otherwise known as the Codex, in the middle of the room that had been installed two weeks ago and pressed his hand on it. As he did so, the screen on top of it lit up and moved around to portray a map of the Great Forest. With some motions, he zoomed in on the northern part of the forest and used some controls to add the elves to the northern crags at the top of the Great Forest and paused, thinking. Reynyagn had been planning for this, at least. Between some false spies to the elves and some other work, they had gotten the elves to attack in the north—just as they’d wanted them to. It was unfortunate that they had taken the crags, instead of a bit east of the crags, but it should do.

Freglak zoomed in a bit more and then jabbed at the icon of Major Erklen, selecting one of the options. As he did so, the map vanished to portray a picture of Major Erklen.

“Greetings, Lord Freglak,” a voice came in through the table, although the picture did not move. “I entrust you have received my message?”

“Yes, Major,” Freglak said. “Why did you not tell me via the Codex?”

“My apologies, sir,” the Major replied. “I had somewhat forgotten that we had put this communication in place.”

“Think nothing of it, Major,” Freglak said. “No harm done. Have any developments been made with the elves since you sent the messenger?”

“None, sir,” Major Erklen replied. “The elves seem to be waiting to see what we will do first.”

“Very well then,” Freglak said. “What ships do they have? Wait, no… Just input all the figures you know into your miniature codex device after our talk and send the information here.”

“I…” Erklen began. “I can do that?”

“Talk to one of the technicians,” Freglak said. “They’ll hook you up. I have all of your information, but if you can get theirs then that will help me fill in the battle scene here. I will relay commands via the Codex once I have your reports.”

“Yes sir,” Erklen said. “I will talk to the scouts and get a report back as soon as I can. I don’t think I’ll be able to get them in until an hour, though…”

“Very well,” Lord Freglak replied. “I’ll be waiting.” And with that he ended the communication. Freglak squinted, and rubbed his head. Reynyagn had told Freglak how Codexes like this were used for many different purposes—both concerning and not concerning their military, before the Upheaval. And so, digging into the large cluttered cellars of their palace, they had managed to find a Codex and Reynyagn had been able to give their technicians some tips about how to use it before they went. Reynyagn had been keeping up a steady stream of communication to Freglak while he was in their speeder but hadn’t much after he had reportedly found the dwarves and humans. After that, there had been no communication, though Reynyagn promised he would put him in touch with the dwarves…

Freglak suddenly looked at his watch and quickly stood up. He had an appointment with High Priest Jaine. And given recent events, Freglak did not think it a wise idea at all to keep the High Priest waiting.



“Lord Freglak.”

“Greetings, High Priest Jaine,” Freglak said, slightly bowing his head in pretend reverence.

“Please, sit down,” High Priest Jaine said as he gestured to the other chair at the oak wood table. Freglak sat down. The High Priest was silent for a few minutes as he contemplated the acorn in front of him.

“So,” High Priest Jaine said, looking at Freglak. “The elves have established a foothold.”

“You know already?” Freglak asked. “The news just came to me-”

“You know better than to ask that question,” High Priest Jaine responded. “Our knowledge goes far and wide. This attack displeases me, Freglak.”

“As it does I,” Freglak said. “But you would be glad to know-”

“Any threat the elves make is a threat to the Mothertree,” High Priest Jaine said sharply. “And it is your actions, Freglak, that have brought this attack upon us.”

“If you had a problem with my actions,” Freglak began. “You could have said before-”

“We both know that I did not need to say it,” High Priest Jaine snapped. “You seem to have a mindset that you can do things without our permission. You attacked an elven ship and brought all this upon us without our permission—and on the day of the Celebration. Furthermore, you told us nothing about the Sla’ad you had here until after he was gone.”

“You said you had knowledge of anything, did you not?” Freglak asked coolly. “I would expected you to know already that I was entertaining a Sla’ad in my quarters.”

“And we would have known, had you not hidden it from me,” High Priest Jaine said coolly. “Remember Freglak why it is that you are Lord over the Great Forest. It was not for nothing that we supported you over your opponent to be Lord.”

“And I respect that,” Freglak said. “But that was years ago. Besides which, the only reason you supported me was because otherwise my uncle said that you-”

“Who told you that?” High Priest Jaine interrupted, eyes mad with anger.

“My uncle warned me about the influence that the priests would try to exert upon me,” Freglak said carefully, treading dangerous ground. “Of course, much of what he said was folly as you are so-”

“Skip the vain talk!” High Priest Jaine snapped.

“And so he made sure he told me about most of his dealings over the years,” Freglak said. “He wanted me to know how I would be able to thwart the Priesthood of the Mothertree.”

“Heretic,” High Priest Jaine muttered. “I always knew he was, though-”

“The elves in the northern crags are soon to suffer a tremendous blow to their cause,” Lord Freglak said.

“And what then?” High Priest Jaine snapped. “You don’t mean to tell me that you think you can actually beat the Mothership, can you? The elves will not relent.”

“The Sla’ad, along with my top aide Flek have recently formed the Xavier Team,” Lord Freglak bluffed, even though he had no idea if they ever managed to form the team or not. “I am currently in league with that team to help bring down the elven empire. You respect the Prophet Xavier, do you not, High Priest Jaine?”

The High Priest opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“Good day,” Lord Freglak said. “And take heed that you remember your place as well, High Priest Jaine. This is no time for political division, and I will be instrumental in the elves’ downfall. You may think that you control me, Jaine, but you don’t. I serve the Mothertree and Her mission to bring down the elves over any other petty squabbles that I might get myself into.” And with that, Lord Freglak left, leaving a gaping High Priest watching him leave.

_ Anyways, we'll see when I get the time to do that again... And I don't know if I'll be able to post on Saturday since I may be in an NCFCA speech tournament (depends if I break into outrounds or not...)

So anyways, on to Part 39: Beyond. IN other words, "we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto"...

Part IXL: Beyond

Date: Yippah 5th, 114 A.U.

Far North the party now must go if it wants to succeed.
The trials that will try the group will bring it to the brink;
Despair must run o’er them before the culmination comes.
Till purified with fire it will stand against fire.

The machine slowly slowed to a halt. The doors opened, and Astrid stepped out into the blowing wind. She walked a couple feet forward to the crag that jutted out, overlooking the mountainous region under, above, and beyond her. In the middle of nowhere. Astrid shivered as Number 994 stepped beside her.

Astrid cringed slightly, still unused to being so close to a living breathing orc, but Number 994 seemed to pay her no mind. Instead he cocked his head and stretched out his hand. And, closing his eyes, he seemed to feel the wind as it rushed past and ponder. Astrid turned away.

“So how far north do you think we have to go?” Flek was asking as he stepped out from the vehicle.

“Far enough,” Reynyagn said as he stepped out beside him. “Most likely it will mean getting past the mountains here into the north beyond; the place where the orcs once lived. Some place that will probably have its fair share of fire in it, at least, that’s what the prophesy would seem to indicate.”

“I don’t particularly think I like what this part of the prophesy says will happen to us here,” Reklen said.

“I know,” Reynyagn said. “But it is through these trials that have been prophesied that we must go through, according to the prophesy, if we want to have any choice at succeeding in our mission.”

“We’re alone,” Astrid said simply as she turned to look upon her new comrades. “There’s nothing out here. Nothing except the wind and snow.”

“Aye,” Reynyagn said. “It’s rather desolate…” They were silent for a few minutes as the wind rushed past.

“I suppose that’s just as well,” Zarien said, hobbling out from the vehicle. His mechanical leg had been giving him problems. “Because, if anyone’s out here, it’s going to be the elves. And I don’t think I want to have our big confrontation with them quite yet. I’m hoping we’re going to get something super-powerful out here to help us stand against them.”

“That would be nice,” Flek agreed.

“Well,” Reynyagn said. “No use standing around talking when we could be doing something. I was hoping that we might be able to find some source of prey out here in the mountains to try and conserve our supplies.”

“I’ll be gone looking,” Number 994 said, and with that he made his way down from the crag to search for prey.

“Very well,” Reynyagn said. “This morning I thought I saw some way for the machine to get fueled on solar power in the back when the machine is idle, so I’m going to investigate that. If the rest of you want to do whatever, that’s fine. Maybe someone wants to go help Number 994 hunt.”

“I’ll hunt on my own,” Reklen chirped, and with that he scampered off. Astrid watched as people left to their own tasks as Flek and Jroldin moved up beside her on the crag of the mountain.

“It’s no wonder you dwarves stayed underground up here,” Flek said. “Isn’t much up here that seems to be any good for you.”

“From what Reynyagn said, it seemed like beyond the mountains would be similarly desolate,” Jroldin said. “But the orcs ended up staying there.”

“True,” Flek said. “But… if Number 994 is any indication, it doesn’t seem that orcs would be the type of people to mind about solitude. Don’t seem to have any personality, that’s for sure.”

Astrid laughed. “I suppose that is true…” she said. “And any personality that Number 994 might have he seems to blame and put off on others. All that weird impersonal orc kind of stuff.”

“He’ll come around…” Jroldin said. “Eventually… At least I hope he does. Can’t have him stay the boring person in our party for long!” There was an awkward silence between them.

“I wish the prophesy gave us more information about what to do,” Astrid finally said. “Or even if we had a good idea about what we were looking for up in the North. I mean, we don’t know anything except that we’re supposed to go up there. We’re just wandering aimlessly!”

“Not really…” Flek said. “Reynyagn seemed to be trying to follow the star still… He said that there was some ancient custom about giving each star a certain position on the earth, and so he was trying to steer the vehicle on course to the traditional spot on the earth where the star would be in hopes that it would bring us anything. At least, he said he was going to… course that was weeks ago with the hectic hustle and bustle of getting prepared and getting sent out on our mission and everything, so he might have a different plan right now.”\

“Reynyagn is some person….” Jroldin said. “He gives me the shivers sometimes though. I mean, if he’s blacker than the night! And he scares the jeepers out of me when he just pops up after he’s been basically invisible in a dark enough shadow.”

“He’s not that creepy…” Astrid said, a bit defensively. “At the very least, he knows where we should be going.”

“What’s he doing?” They all turned to follow Jroldin’s line of sight to Rider, who was standing alone on part of the mountain, gazing off in the distance back from where they had come from.

“He seems to be a bit of a solitary person,” Astrid said. “At least for now he is… doesn’t talk much at all…”

“Brother Tomas said it had something to do with his past before he came to Araelia…” Jroldin said.

“Well, I suppose that makes a bit of sense…” Flek said. “But sometimes I wonder about him… I do wonder…”

_As I hinted at before, this post has the additional benefit of being also done in video with a dramatic reading... You can find the video on the downloads page of my website...

PLEASE tell me what you think of it and how much you liked it... How much people like it will correspond to how often I do things like this... Also, the picture in between sections is the drawing that Seth did for me for the Arquenia Saga, so...

Enjoy!


Part XXXVIII: A Message for the Emperor

Yippah 11th, 114 A.U.

Jaigran, Duke of the Upper Skies, Lord of the Lower Earth, First of the Supreme Elves, Highest of the Flyers, General of the Imperial Army, Emperor of Arquenia, was restless. Jaigran nearly smiled with amusement as all of his officials made up lame excuses to have absence. And Jaigran allowed them, a faint smile trickling along his lips. None of the officials wanted to be around him while he was restless… quite possibly because of what happened the last time he was restless. That was one hundred and eighteen years ago, when he first dreamed about the Mothership…

Jaigran stood up and rubbed his head with his golden gauntlets. As he did so, he reached into the secret compartment in his throne and drew out his long golden corsha spear. And doing so, he sat back down upon his throne in a state of mental peace, his stomach slowly moving in rhythm with his breathing.

He was such a hypocrite, yes, Jaigran knew. For all his talk about abolishing the old corsha for the new technology, he still clung closely to his weapon. The one that he had taken long ago… Jaigran was silent as he remembered his deeds of the past, when he remembered her, when he remembered what they…

Jaigran stood up, opening his eyes wide, as he readjusted his grip on his spear. He needed to do something. It was one hundred and fourteen years since he became emperor, and still, not all the races were in subjugation. Sure their long-going plans were reaching its fruition but still…

He was the Emperor of Arquenia! He was the General of the Imperial Army! It was high time enough that every single intelligent being bowed the knee to him, the First of the Supreme Elves! Whenever it came, even if it came at this moment, it was over a century too late! He had lived longer than a normal elf, yes, much longer, but he was going to make sure, even if it was at his dying breath, that he would see the world in complete subjugation to him before he died! He would-

At that moment, the doors flew open, and, muttering a curse, Jaigran quickly stashed his spear back into his throne as he walked forward. Two elven guards were holding back a struggling winged female elf. The elf looked mad, her long hair flying everywhere, her clothes unheaveled, and her torn wings beating.

“Get it!” she screamed. “Get it out of me! Take it away!”

“What is this?” Emperor Jaigran asked, as he stepped forward.

“Help me!” the elf exclaimed. “Oh help me! Kill me! Rip out my throat and end my misery and the-“ Her voice morphed into a scream, and then, the sound from her mouth abruptly stopped. He moved his mouth, but no sound came out. Her eyes stared at Emperor Jaigran in horror and then, they rolled back into her head as she went still. And then, the elf spoke.

“Hello, Emperor Jaigran,” a cold low voice said. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” The two guards froze. Jaigran’s skin crawled at the low voice that emitted from the female elf.

“I am Emperor Jaigran,” Jaigran said, not willing to let this strange creature disturb his mindset, “the Emperor of Arquenia. What do you want?”

“I am the Guardian,” the voice said. “I am the one who has kept the world of Arquenia for over millennia. I have come to offer you a proposition.”

“You offer me a proposition…” Jaigran said, suspiciously. “What kind of proposition?”

“A deal; a mutual agreement of sorts between the two of us,” the voice said, the voice dripping with smoothness. “A way to establish your rule over Arquenia once and for all, where there is none who would dare oppose you.”

“And what do you want out of this?” Jaigran asked. There was always a catch.

“Power,” the voice said. “You may be ruler, but it is only by giving me power that you will be able to do so.”

“Forgive me for not being overly suspicious of your deal,” Jaigran said sarcastically. “But-“

“My resident body comes from the Citadel of Tzel-Maret,” the voice cried out. “It is to that citadel that you must go.”

“Your resident body?” Jaigran asked, reaching for his gun he kept hidden.

The winged elf vomited all over the floor and a spasm went through it. “Go to Tzel-Maret,” the deep voice said. “My hold is passing… passing…”

Suddenly, the elf’s eyes snapped alert, a more feminine shriek emitting from her lips. Her body went rigid and moved upward, her neck twisting and her eyes following a certain upward trajectory. She opened her mouth and stared as if some invisible spirit had just exited her body. And then her body went limp and she fell, collapsing in the pool of her own vomited.

The guards started, reaching for their weapons in fear, and Jaigran himself found himself flinching in horror as he felt his face pale. Jaigran sucked on his lips for a moment, and then, finally, spoke to the cowering dumb-struck guards.

“Leave,” he said quickly. “Go and let no one disturb me.”

“Should we-” one of the guards began as one of them moved toward the elf.

“No,” Jaigran said, seeing his intent. “Leave her here and I will deal with her when she awakens. Now leave.” The guards quickly exited the room.

Jaigran was still for a couple moments as his chest heaved, adrenaline still racing. “The citadel of Tzel-Maret…” Jaigran slowly said, and he walked toward the map that hung on the wall portraying the geography of Arquenia. “The ancient citadel of Tzel-Maret…”

Question of the Week:What do you think about doing it in video?

_And now, after a short hiatus, we will return to the Arquenia Saga by beginning Book II: The Northlands... There is going to be some different stuff this time. I will now have the schedule about writing about the Xavier Team on Tuesdays, and writing about anything else in the world of Arquenia on Saturdays...

Part XXXVII: Team of Seven

Date: Yippah 4th, 114 A.U.

There was a loud grounding noise as the long concealed doors in the side of the mountain slowly creaked open for the first time in over a hundred years. Pieces of rock fell down, falling on the ground as the doors slid open to reveal the blackness behind it. Two shining beams of light shone out of it.

From out of the darkness, a slick low-hovering air ship moved out from under it, dust swirling underneath it, as it moved out from the doors, which slowly grinded shut behind it. The air ship moved forth for the first time in years, and away from where it had been stored for the many years since the Great Upheaval.

It was free.


A human named Astrid… …A healer for the party…

Astrid looked out the window at the mountainous landscape as it moved by, Monty beside her. The last couple weeks had been so busy… they had almost made her forget what she had done. Almost. Astrid bit her lip and she thought back at the hectic planning that had eventually led into a fluid ceremony where the members of the Xavier team had been appointed and sent out on their mission a couple hours ago. And the hypocrisy of it. That they were going to send a murderer out to try and stop the elves. That they actually thought she was worthy to fight against the elves.

She wasn’t.


An elf with ambition… … An outlaw yet by birth

Rider looked forward as the air ship moved forward through the mountains and his mind flirted back to his past—about the last time he had been out here in the open. Jaigran Outlaw, an elf who had been named after the fabled Emperor of the elves. It was his unusual last name that had elected him to be a member of the prophesy. It was his frightening first name that led him to take the nickname of Rider.

And it was the same name that almost was a hint of whom he had become: how he had fled from the elves and found those rebels that still fought against the elves, continually pressing and working, mostly with the dwarves, to get their leaders to fight actively against the dwarves until an emissary from Araelia found him and brought him to meet Governor Astrid and join the prophesy.

So that he could use his ambition to destroy the elves.


A Sla’ad will lead the group… … One who saw a slaughter great

Reynyagn checked the equipment at the front of the old machine to make sure that it was still running well. It still seemed to be working fine, despite being hardly used since the Great Upheaval. The Great Upheaval. Reynyagn’s mind went back to that day when the elves began their attack on the inhabitants of Arquenia and committed themselves to a rigorous onslaught that brought about their rise to rule…

It had been on that day that Reynyagn had been finally made free from his previous captors and found his way to discover a small group of Sla’ad trying to survive. And it was then that he used all of his previous experiment to lead them and help them to be able to survive the horror of the days to come.
And now, he didn’t know if they still lived.


An orc will help… … One will betray his friends

Number 994 didn’t particularly care for his part of the prophesy—if it was indeed a prophesy—and he found it kind of outrageous as well. That he would betray his friends? He hadn’t betrayed them… Number 994 was racking up a wealth of information to be able to help to destroy the rebels once he returned to the Mothership.

And friends? For an orc, that sort of thing was an abomination. That a true-bred orc would have friends? It was an abomination, one that would only tear himself from the main cause. An abomination. Number 994 was slightly amused by the long speech and presentation that led up to the appointment of the Xavier Team. To think that seven people would be able to destroy the power of the Emperor.

Pure folly.

…will help elf… …another will lose them all!

Zarien wished that the prophesy had been otherwise. That something else would have been prophesied about one of the two elves. That he would keep them all, instead of lose them all. Was his life all in the hands of fate? Was it fate that stripped him of his comrades and made him to lose his leg?
Was there a greater purpose in all of this?

Goblin will show great expertise... … A warrior seeks to lead and yet it won’t be granted him.

Flek wasn’t completely sure why he was the one who sought to lead… Why was it him who wanted to lead and yet unable to do so? He understood why he was the warrior… and it was to his misfortune that let him know why he had great expertise, but why did he seek to lead? And what would the fact that he wouldn’t be granted that leadership entail for their party and their success?

You know, Flek.

A dwarf who has a sign upon his head for his fixed place… … one who bears Old Weapons.

Jroldin hesitantly put the golden corsha axe back into the box that he had originally found it in. According to Brother Tomas’ indication, the strange corsha weapon he had found was once the Old Weapon of the Dwarves, a powerful artifact that once had great importance before it mysteriously disappeared. And ever so mysteriously reappeared when Jroldin happened to find it. He didn’t know what it was, but it was an Old Weapon. And Brother Tomas was sure that the prophesy had caused him to find it.

Jroldin was disturbed by that fact.

Seven members of the prophesy looked ahead to their quest along with their comrades: Reklen, Monty, and Brother Tomas all looking ahead to the demise of the elves. That their group of seven, along with their three companions, might be able to strike down the elven tyranny.

_The last part of Book I: The Star...  So sit back, and enjoy the conclusion of Book I: The Star.  I will after go on a week hiatus of rest, and then return on a Tuesday-Saturday posting schedule on January 31st, 2012.

Part XXXVI: The Xavier Team

Date: Amanela 20th, 114 A.U.

“So these are the great mountains in the north…” Flek said as the cruiser began to make its way on a winding route up the mountain that was already obscured by the darkness of the night.

“Not quite…” Reynyagn said. “There are greater mountains further north than these, although these are regarded by many as the northern mountains as few other than the dwarves, orcs, and a few elves ever ventured further north…”

“The orcs?” Flek said. “I know why the dwarves since they live here, but why…?”

“The orcs lived in the northern mountainous regions,” Reynyagn replied. “Although they had a few outposts and cities down here, south of the dwarven mountains, they stayed to themselves primarily north. The only ones who had contact with them was the dwarves, and the elves, seeing as their lands to the west went far enough North so that they had contact with them. It is likely for that reason that they, being the more reclusive of the races, were willing to join themselves with the orcs.”

“Ah, ok…” Flek said.

“We are not more reclusive than other races,” Number 994 stated.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Reynyagn said. “Perhaps what has been in the past is not the same in the present. However, I am no judge of the present; I have not seen many orcs or read anything about them now. But I do know the facts of the past, as cited by many well-known and reliable historians.”

“Does your knowledge explain to you why the Emperor has lived so long?” Zarien asked.

Reynyagn was silent for a moment. “The Emperor has indeed lived much longer than the average elf,” he said. “By far… As for why he has lived so long…” Reynyagn paused. “I do not know. I have heard rumors… inklings of things… but nothing conclusive, and so, I do not have any answer for you.”

“I wonder if there are any dwarves up here…” Reklen said.

“I hope so,” Flek said, joining in Reklen in gazing out the window.

“I would tend to doubt it…” Reynyagn said. “If the dwarves survived, they did so by staying hidden, not by staying out… and also given the darkness of the night-”

“What’s that?” Reklen said, gesturing to a light in the distance.


“You all ready?” Governor Astrid asked as she got into the old elevator.

“I suppose,” Jroldin said as he looked up at the ceiling. He moved back to make space for Brother Tomas, Astrid, Monty, and two guards. He stared back at Rider, the elf whom he had recently been introduced to: the elf whom Astrid thought could possible be a member of the prophesy.

“Then we’ll go up,” Governor Astrid said, pushing a button. “We’ll go up to the surface, and once again see the night sky that has been hidden from us for so long.” The elevator doors closed and the elevator slowly made up its shaft—a path that it had not often travelled—up toward the surface far above—a freedom which so long ago had been taken from them.


“Keep your position on that moving light,” Flek said, eagerly moving up next to Zarien.

“I’m working on it, I’m working on it,” Zarien said, spinning the wheel to follow the light in a chase up the mountain. “This machine isn’t exactly made for quick chases though…”

“I’m trying to chart its course and what kind of machine it might be,” Reynyagn called from where he was at another part of the controls. “I may be able to get a reading on it.”

“Is there a way to get to the roof of this vehicle?” Number 994 asked, gesturing to the ceiling. “If we get close enough, I can safely take it down without hurting its inhabitants.”
“There’s a hatch in the back,” Reynyagn said without taking his eyes off of the controls. “You can get it up there and see if we can get close enough for you.”

“Will do,” Number 994 said, and he ran back to the hatch.

“Getting closer…” Zarien said as he spun the vehicle to try and keep up with their target’s erratic route.

“What is that?” Flek asked.



The elevator doors that had been concealed in the face of the mountain slowly opened and cool air slipped in to its passengers. And slowly, they stepped out into the plateau and the cold night air. To their right, shining in the star, was a bright blue star. Transfixed to the glow, as if moved by some outside force, Astrid and Jroldin stepped forward at the same moment.

“It’s…” Astrid said.

“It’s captivating,” the elf Rider said, stepping beside them. “It is the call of the star. And it is calling us for a purpose: to strike down the elven tyranny.”


The vehicle screeched to a halt, and slowly, Reynyagn stepped out, eyes captivated by the sight in front of him, as Flek, Zarien, and Number 994 followed him, Reklen following close behind.

In front of them, the electric blue star shone forth, illuminating the night sky, silhouetting the figures in front of it.

“It’s just a star…” Reklen mumbled.

“Yes,” Reynyagn said, stepping forward as the others followed him. “But it is so much more… It is calling the team toward them.”

“It… it is as if I know my destiny…” Zarien said. “That after all these days, I know what I should be doing.”

“A sense of duty non-conforming to the good for all orcs is wrong,” Number 994 said. “And yet…”

“It is our destiny,” Flek said, stepping forward toward the figures also looking to the star. “Andf it is a destiny we must embrace.

The figures near the star turned toward them. “Who?” one began.

“We are the members of the Xavier Team,” Reynyagn said. “And we are here to fulfill our destiny. We are the hope of Arquenia.”

End of Book I

_One more part to the finish!

Part XXXV: Naming Day

Date: Amanela 19th, 114 A.U.

A low hollow note sounded on the gong and Jroldin nervously shuffled his feet as he peeked out from behind the door at the small group of people gathered in the Great Cathedral. His heart was still racing a bit from nearly getting killed after a gunman tried to shoot him before the gunman realized that he had shot all of his bullets already.

After that hadn’t been any less chaotic either. Between scourging the hideout of the gunmen, meeting up with his dad and learning that his dad had actually remembered about Naming Day, and being rushed out here, his heart was still racing. Brother Tomas was beside him, and Jroldin spotted Astrid and Monty out in the audience. Brother Tomas had wanted them to come to try and talk with them and Governor Astrid later, after the Naming Day ceremony. He was pretty convinced that Astrid was part of the prophesy. Jroldin watched as the doors to the sanctuary opened and Governor Astrid came in, followed by four guards and… an elf!

Jroldin remembered what Governor Astrid had said about finding an elf that possibly was a member of the prophesy, but still, to have an elf for his Naming Day ceremony… This fact only made Jroldin more nervous.

Jroldin slowly turned toward Brother Tomas who was standing beside him, waiting with him. “I’m so nervous,” Jroldin said.

“Such feelings are not uncommon,” Brother Tomas said.

“Yes, but…” Jroldin said, and he sighed. “I don’t even know what I want my new name to be.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Brother Tomas said. “Most people generally have some idea or another, or…”

“I never talked about it with my dad,” Jroldin said. “And I don’t know… I don’t really have any good ideas…”

“Well, a name is a serious thing…” Brother Tomas said.

“Thanks,” Jroldin said. “That’s real encouraging.”

“I’m sorry,” Brother Tomas said. “I would give you some help, even some personal experience, but, being a human…”

“Yeah, I know…” Jroldin said, and he leaned back against the wall. “I just hope I can figure something out in time…”

“I’m sure you will,” Brother Tomas said reassuringly. Just then, Oldin came around the corner of the hall way on his left. Jroldin glanced to the right at the door leading to the sanctuary before turning back.

“Hello Jroldin,” Oldin said, wiping his brow. “Sorry I’m a bit late; I was meeting some people at the door.”

“That’s okay,” Jroldin said, and he pursed his lips. “I just…”

“What?”

“I dunno…” Jroldin said. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do up there—what I’m going to say, what name I’m going to make for myself, I…”

“You’ll do fine,” Oldin said kindly. “I myself didn’t come up with my name until I was asked to give it, and then it just came out of my mouth. Perhaps it will be the same for you.”

“Maybe…” Jroldin said, still a bit unsure.

“You’ll do fine,” Oldin said. He turned to Brother Tomas. “Are you ready?”

Brother Tomas nodded. “Everything in place.”

“Then if it’s fine with you and you’re ready enough,” Oldin said, gesturing to Jroldin. “Then we’ll begin.”



Jroldin breathed softly, for once actually enjoying every bit of a ceremony. But, throughout it between the dripping of oil upon his head and the long-winded speech by Brother Pietre, his mind racked for a possible name to give himself. Finally, Brother Tomas gestured to him, and Jroldin’s heart pounded. It was time for him to give the traditional speech. And at the end of it, to give his name.

“Greetings, all,” said Jroldin. “I… I’ve been thinking a good bit about what I should say here, and what I should give for my new name…” Jroldin paused. “I confess that I’m a bit frightened with choosing a new name, a name that will stick with me for the rest of my life. And I suppose the previous events of today between being kidnapped and being rescued and all of that doesn’t help with my nervousness.” Some people in the crowd laughed. “But,” Jroldin continued. “I suppose that I’m not just able to procrastinate here with my name like I have done so often with my homework.” A lot of people laughed in the crowd this time, and Jroldin smiled. “But I suppose that this isn’t something I can procrastinate like my homework. It’s something I need to do. And looking ahead to my future, seeing as a good many people think that I might be the dwarf in Xavier’s prophesy, I suppose that it looks like it is time for me to really grow up and become a man. And that’s what this day is supposed to be for a dwarf. To become a man. To grow up.” Jroldin paused. “And to be honest, I’m not ready for this. And not because I don’t want to become a man. But because I’m not there yet. I’m ready, I think. But I’m not there yet.

“But I suppose that perhaps it doesn’t matter,” Jroldin said. “Perhaps the Naming Day is just supposed to point one ahead to something, even though he isn’t there yet, and so…” Jroldin took a deep breath, and in that moment he decided. “And so I will give a name to point me ahead for the thing which I seek. And so, as is customary with this Naming Day ceremony, my name is no longer Jroldin. This day my name is Jacob.”

“However, if you look at me, I am not a man. I am not close to being one. The Naming Day is to point me ahead… But how can I have a new name when I am not yet a man?” Jroldin paused. “Therefore, I look ahead to the day when I can inherit the name Jacob, but until then…” Jroldin paused. “Until then my name is Jroldin. Just Jroldin. Until the day cometh when I will inherit my new name. Then I will be Jacob. But for now I am Jroldin. Just Jroldin.”

Question of the Day:Who will win the comment contest?

_Part THirty Four... the end approaches...  One special post will come out tomorrow, and then one on Saturday to finish up Book I: The Star.

Part XXXIV: A Star Shall Lead Them

Date: Amanela 18th, 114 A.U.

“You’re… mad…” Zarien forced out as he tried to escape the electrical field that the orc had put him in. “Let… me… go!”

“Shut your clamour,” Number 994 said as he hailed the speeder.

At that moment, Zarien managed to move so that a tree was in between him and Number 994. As the electrical current fizzled, free, Zarien ignored the burning pain in his chest and, grabbing a long stick as a weapon, leapt out on the opposite side of the tree, readying the stick to thrust into the orc’s neck.

Number 994 turned and shot a bolt of lightning. Ducking, Zarien moved forward and leapt once more to come down upon the orc, smashing his makeshift spear into Number 994’s chest. Before he could do so, something hit him from up ahead. A wide net, its ends holding heavy metal balls, crashed into him, his feet catching and his body being pushed back so that he flew backwards onto the ground as the net closed around him.

Desperate, Zarien struggled to get out of the net, but it was too late. The speeder slowed to a halt near the orc, and someone leapt out. It was… a goblin?

Looking much too small to be a goblin, the goblin scurried forward and leapt on top of Zarien as it brandished a corsha dagger. “Your life is in our hands,” the goblin said.

“No!” Number 994 protested. “You’ve got the wrong person! I’m the rebel! It’s the orc that-”

“Don’t move, elf,” another voice said. Zarien turned to see two more figures coming toward him, the orc slowly following close behind. One of them was a goblin. The other was a tall dark form that made Zarien shiver. Could it be? He had heard stories about what Sla’ad were supposed to look like, but he had never imagined…

“Speak, elf,” the Sla’ad said. “We will not take your life without reason.”

“I am not Jaigran’s soldier,” Zarien snapped. “It is the orc who is your enemy here, and not I. I have been fighting against Jaigran and his Empire while mister orc here has been doing what he can to stop me.”

The Sla’ad turned to the orc. “Is this true?”

“If I wanted to kill the elf, I would have done so days ago,” Number 994 said slowly. “As is, after we escaped the MOthership, we have been together for the most part, just going who knows where, though partly after that blasted bright star in the sky.”

“You were attacking him when we arrived,” the taller goblin pointed out.

“I thought you were elves,” Number 994 replied curtly. “And I didn’t wish to die.”

No one spoke for a bit. “Just let me go,” Zarien said. “The orc has admitted my innocence. I think we can trust him as long as we don’t meet any other elves. I think.”

“The star…” the Sla’ad murmured.

“What?” Zarien asked.

“You were following the star,” the Sla’ad said.

“So?”

“An orc will help elf…” the Sla’ad murmured. “An orc and elf together following a star…”

“Your point?” Zarien asked.

“There is a prophesy,” the Sla’ad said. “One about the downfall of the greatest evil to rise in Arquenia and the only way to stop them. The Xavier Prophesy.” A chill ran down Zarien’s spine. He knew about the Xavier Prophesy, although the Emperor did his best to burn any copies of it.

“We too have been following the star,” the Sla’ad said. “I, Reynyagn, a Sla’ad perhaps to lead a group as well as one who saw a great slaughter. My companion, Flek, a goblin with great expertise who possibly is the warrior who seeks to lead. Only you…” He cocked his head. “The orc will help elf, yes… But which… Mayhaps one of you would be the betrayer…”

“And I lost them all,” Zarien said.

“Excuse me?”

“I lost them all,” Zarien said, painstakingly standing up while still in the net. “The prophesy said one would betray his friends and another would lose them all. Not less than a week ago, all of my friends were killed by an attack of the Emperor in the Mothership. If we can get the orc to betray his friends…” Number 994 didn’t seem particularly pleased by this proposition.

“The star will guide us,” Reynyagn said. “According to the prophesy, the star would gather the members of the prophesy together. Will this plan for the prophesy work? I see only one way of finding out whether or not we really are the members of the prophesy…”

“Follow the star north into the mountains,” Zarien said, gesturing to the mountains.

“Aye,” Reynyagn said. “According to my calculations, with the help of some charts on our machine, it seems that we must go far north beyond the mountains to where the star’s position on the earth would traditionally be held.”

“We go north then,” Zarien said, as the smaller goblin cut the ropes of the net that he was in.

“If your friend decides to come with us,” Flek remarked. “I mean, if he’s a traitor to the cause and is all for Emperor Jaigran and all.”

“I will come with you,” Number 994 said. “But I will make no promises about my allegiance and about where my proper place truly is.”

“The prophesy will sort it all out,” Reynyagn remarked. “If he’s good with coming with us…”

“We go forward,” Number 994 said.

Question of the Week:What are you most looking forward to in my serial?

_Naming Day is coming soon for Jroldin... In fact, it's on Amanela 19th, the current day for Jroldin's story... What do you think will happen for naming day? Does Jroldin get a new name? Find out soon...

Part XXXIII: Takedown

Date: Amanela 19th, 114 A.U.

“Move, move, move!” Oldin yelled into his walkie-talkie as he shot down another hapless guard. “Swarm the hideout, grab the leader, and get the prisoners! Now move!” Oldin didn’t usually participate in the forefront of their missions, but with his son’s life at stake, nothing was going to keep him away from the forefront of their mission. After speaking with the Governor last week, he likewise had the Araelian Guard working with the FRI. Astrid was very frantic to keep his son from death.

Stepping forward, Oldin quickly leapt into the hole that their explosion had created and pressed himself against the wall of the hall way, automatically aiming his gun in the right direction, before inching down the wall, keeping an eye on his wrist device that showed where he and Jroldin were. At long last, all of his training with Jroldin about what to do when captured and all of his precautions against it had born fruit. Nevertheless, Oldin would have been happier if all of his training with Jroldin had been wasted than for this to happen.



“Clear the records!” the man screeched. “Detonate the explosives and get out of here! Fred and Mike! You come with me to get the prisoners! Now move!” Brushing past the men who were putting fuses alongside the doorway, he hurried toward the staircase to their makeshift prison. Stupid guards. Stupid Jroldin. Thanks to the smart-alek son of the FRI head, their whole division of the mission had been compromised and blown open. It was thanks to the second bug that they had placed in the cell that had cued them into the reason for their compromised cover. He would have strangled Jroldin for this if not for the fact that the boss still wanted him. But there were other ways of taking revenge.


“I hear footsteps,” Jroldin said. “Someone’s coming down the stairs.”

“Someone to put a bullet in the back of our heads no doubt, or to transport us to another facility, if they have one!” Monty said. “They’re not just going to let us get away scot-free if they’re coming down for us!” From below, they heard explosions and sounds of fighting. Suddenly, an armed figure burst in through the prison doors, followed by two other men. Jroldin recognized the man as his questioner.

The man pointed his gun at them. “No wrong moves!” he screamed out. “Or else!” He turned to the other men. “The dwarf is the only important one. The others-”

“Move!” Monty yelled, and tackled his sister to the ground as bullets whizzed overhead. At the same moment, the floor collapsed.

Jroldin flailed his limbs as he fell through the floor with Brother Tomas. A moment later, and Monty had leapt after them, holding a struggling Astrid. Jroldin hit the ground hard and rolled to the side, apparently in the middle of a gun fight. On one side, multiple members of the Araelian guard collapsed. Jroldin spun his head to see a couple gang members a couple feet away—two holding guns, the other holding a long box made out of some strange-looking material.

Ignoring the pain in his right side, Jroldin leapt up and leapt towards the nearest gun-man, still a bit dazed from the explosion that had blown apart the hall way. Unfortunately, the gunman wasn’t totally dazed. As he neatly sidestepped Jroldin, Jroldin instead tackled the middle man that was holding the strange box

The man collapsed and dropped his box as bullets whistled overhead. Jroldin glanced to the side to see Monty leaping after a man while Astrid moved back and Brother Tomas made for Jroldin. Grabbing the box, Jroldin leapt up and smashed it against one of the gunmen.

The box slammed into the man, but only surprised the man. As Jroldin stumbled forward, he felt something jut forward out of the bottom of the box. It seemed to be an iron pole. Using it to grasp better, Jroldin slammed it again at the man, and, as the man fell back, the box broke.

The box flew away, part of the box melting, to reveal a corsha battle axe. But, instead of normal colored corsha, the axe head was golden. Just as Monty and Jroldin had taken down the two gunmen, a new troope came running around the corner—five gang members, readying their weapons.

Ignoring all else, Jroldin ran forward, swinging his axe, suddenly emboldened. As the bullets flew toward him, they seemed to move slower, and his aim more cleaner. As if by instinct, Jroldin sliced the bullets as they sped toward him, melting them with his axe. And, as the gunmen turned to leave, Jroldin swung forward with his axe

The weight of the axe surprised him, and Jroldin lurched forward along with the axe, cutting through a man and toppling forward, narrowly avoiding burning himself with the axe. As if by instinct, Jroldin swung the corsha axe up to block another shot. Two men toppled over, killed by Monty’s shooting. He must have taken a gun from one of those gunmen.

Wishing that he had had foresight enough to do that, Jroldin rolled around and flung the axe, killing the remaining two gunmen. The corsha axehead sliced through them and went into the wall, its axehead going completely into the wall so that only the handle stuck out. Oops.

And then Jroldin saw the man pointing a gun right at him—the man that Jroldin had thought that Monty had killed. Bigger oops. And the man squeezed the trigger.

Question of the Week:Does Jroldin get a new name for Naming Day? And what will it be?

_Part Thirty Two... We're moving up Book I!

Part XXXII: Nemesis Unite!

Date: Amanela 15th, 114 A.U.

Zarien was rudely awakened as his body jerked to the side. Eyes wide open, Zarien looked up into the eyes of the orc.

“Hello, rebel elf,” the orc said. And then a web of lightning shot out from his hand, connecting with various points of Zarien’s body. As Zarien went rigid, the orc lifted him in the air.

“You… were… dead…” Zarien forced out of his unwilling lips.

“Not quite,” the orc snapped. “And the Mothership is gone! I have searched for it for days and have not found it!” His eyes narrowed. “And you’ll pay for it!”

“Wait!” Zarien forced out. “Don’t kill me!”

“Give me one good reason not to kill you for ruining my life!” the orc snapped.

“Your… life… isn’t… ruined…” Zarien said, arching his back in pain. “Join… me… you… may… hate… me… but… together…”

“Why should I help your worthless skin!” the orc said. A bolt of lightning later and Zarien was thrown against the tree. Zarien collapsed and looked up.

“Any suspicious moves, and I’ll hold you in the air again,” the orc snapped.

“Two… are… better than one… in survival,” Zarien gasped out. “And there.. are no longer… any rivalries… between us… now that the elves are gone… right?”

The orc seemed to think about this for a moment. “And wait for you to backstab me.”

“That… would be foolish…” Zarien said.

“I’m not going to be doublecrossed,” the orc said bluntly.

“Your chances of survival… are better with me…” Zarien said. “Please… keep my gun if you don’t trust me…”

The orc thought about that for a moment, and then picked up Zarien’s gun from where it lay nearby. “Deal, elf,” he said. “But the moment I spot an elven patrol, you’re mine.”

“Whatever…” Zarien said, slowly standing up as he leaned against the tree. I’ll just escape the moment I see an elven patrol… “What’s your name?”

“Names are for the uncivilized,” the orc said. “For those who aren’t organized enough to have a better system. I am Number 994, the nine hundred and ninety fourth most powerful orc in Arquenia.”

“You don’t… have a name?...” Zarien asked, still a bit breathless from being thrown against the tree.

“Names are for those races that are disorganized,” Number 994 said.

“What-ever…” Zarien said. “So I’m disorganized. What’s next?”

“Your friends are all ours and dead,” Number 994 said.

The reminder stung Zarien. “Would you shut up, if you have any feelings at all?” he snapped. “Look, I just lost all of my friends and all you’re doing is gloating.”

“I…” Number 994 said, but he was then silent.

Zarien wiped his face. “I’ve hunted some the last couple days out here, but don’t have infinite bullets in my gun.”

“Animals are easily stunned,” Number 994 said, snapping his fingers to let a tinge of lightning run through them.

“I guess we won’t starve then,” Zarien said. “It would be good to find some civilization though…”

Number 994 narrowed his eyes. “I suppose you wouldn’t mean elven civilization.”

“I was more hoping for a forgotten tribe out here,” Zarien said. “More civilization than those blasted elves got. Why do you even care for the elves? All they do is exalt themselves over you.”

“We are equal with the elves,” Number 994 said, though his voice betrayed a bit of doubt. “There will be no tribes either. The Mothership’s radars would have picked them up; they would just as easily have been captured or killed.”

“There are mountains up ahead,” Zarien said. “Maybe the Mothership didn’t go so far and we can find dwarves.”

“They’d shoot us on sight, genius,” Number 994 stated bluntly.

“I can live with that,” Zarien said. “We’ll find some way for them to accept us. Now are you going to go along with me, or not?”

The orc muttered something under his breath that sounded akin to ‘I was supposed to be the leader here.’ “Fine,” the orc said. “But don’t think that you’re so cocky and in charge here, rebel.”

“I won’t, I won’t…” Zarien said. “Name’s Zarien, by the way, as we’re actually personal enough to have names, which is much more than what I can say for an orc.”

A small shock ran through Zarien’s bones. “Careful what you say, rebel.”



Amanela 18th, 114 A.U.

“It would really be nice if I could actually call you a name instead of a number every time,” Zarien grumbled. “Don’t orcs have nicknames?”

“Rule Seventy Seven: An orc’s sole purpose is to serve the greater good to the expense of his own good,” Number 994 said. “Any personal item, such as a name, is better nil than there.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Course I do,” Number 994 said, though there was a bit of hesitancy to his voice.

“Just admit it and rebel,” Zarien said. “It’s not like anyone can stop you out here. We can start anew—make a new place without the constraints of everything old.” The orc stopped and paused. Zarien turned, and the orc stared in the distance, a sign of hope tingling in his eyes.

But then he shook his head. “The Emperor’s fleet would in due time find us and kill us,” Number 994 said. “Apart from the Emperor, there is no life.”

“Yeah?” Zarien asked. “Well I’ll be the first to find life outside of the Emperor. If I do that, then will you join us? Or would you rather be alone trying to find your way again.”

“Well…” Number 994 said.

“Yeah, yeah, I know the answer…” Zarien grumbled. “You would like it, but you can’t say anything against the greater good and what nots and-”

“Elves!” Number 994 cried.

“What-” Zarien began, but then he was flung against a tree.

Number 994 pointed with one hand, and kept Zarien electrically pressed against the tree with the other. “A speeder! The elves have come! I am rejoined!”

Question of the Week: What book would you like to see made into a movie?

_Well, it's about time that plot lines start to interconnect--especially given that I have just under two weeks to finish Book I, and I plan to have all the plots connected by the end of it all! Anyways, Happy Saturday, all!


Part XXXI: Strangers Thrown Together

Date: Amanela 19th, 114 A.U.

Astrid groggily woke up to see her vision constantly focusing and refocusing as she tried to figure out where she was. The coldness of the room, the hardness of the rock, and the unfamiliar people around her was her first clue that she wasn’t in her bed at home. And then it hit her. Literally.

“Ow!” Astrid said.

“Sorry,” the dwarf said. “Didn’t see ya there. What are you doing on the ground anyways?”

“I was sleeping,” Astrid said, sitting up.

The dwarf looked at her floppy mattress nearby. “I kind of thought that was what that was for,” he said, gesturing to the mattress.

“Look, I move in my sleep, ok?” Astrid said. “And I just woke up here; I have no idea where I am or whatever.”

“Ah,” the dwarf said. “The name’s Jroldin. You’re in a nicely caged prison cell, courtesy of whoever kidnapped us here. Who are you?”

“Astrid,” Astrid replied. “I’m a nurse.”

“How’d you get to have your brother as a spy?” Jroldin asked.

Astrid’s eyes open wide, suddenly awake. “How did you know he was a spy?”

“The guards were talking about it,” Jroldin said, and he shrugged and then grinned. “That and I looted his pockets.” He flashed an FRI badge in her face. Astrid inwardly groaned.

“Anyways,” Jroldin said, “How’d you get the honor of being brought to this cell. The guards seemed pretty ticked at you. They said they were going to have to deal with you. What’d you do to offend them?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Astrid mumbled.

“Just try and make them really ticked at you,” Jroldin said. “And then the questioning goes easy.”

“But I don’t want to make them ticked at me,” Astrid protested.

“Well, not in that way,” Jroldin said. “But I mean-”

“You’re a nurse named Astrid?” Brother Tomas said, stepping up.

“Yeah,” Astrid said, wondering how a brown-robed priest got in here. “Why?”

“Yeah, why?” Jroldin asked.

Brother Tomas pushed his spectacles up his nose. “Remember Jroldin?” he asked. “The prophesy? A woman named Astrid? And a healer in the party? Doesn’t it seem a bit coincidental that you could meet up like that? Mayhaps the prophesy is calling you together!”

“What prophesy?” Astrid asked.

“Xavier’s prophesy!” Brother Tomas said. “About the team of seven who would save the world from destruction!”

Astrid stared at Brother Tomas. “You think I’m a member of the prophesy?”

“Well, maybe not,” Brother Tomas said. “But I would not automatically discount it. After all-”

“What’s up with the glowing crown?” a voice said from behind, and Monty entered into the flickering firelight.

“What crown?” Astrid asked.

“The crown on the dwarf’s head, of course,” Monty said. “The freaking thing glows! I can’t believe the guards didn’t confiscate it from him.”

“I don’t see any crown…” Astrid said, wondering what had happened to her brother.

“Long story,” Brother Tomas interjected. “Basically not everyone can see his crown. But, given that this cell is probably bugged-”

“They already know about the crown, remember?” Jroldin asked. “They bugged me.”

“Still-” Brother Tomas said. “It still isn’t wise to be giving them a continuous stream of information, and-”

“Ah, why, Brother Tomas!” Monty said, stepping forward to shake Brother Tomas’ hand. “It’s so nice to see you. I must say that I am a bit confused about why you are in a cell, but, I suppose it might be nice to see you all the same. Oh, and I’ll take that back,” he said, snagging his badge out of Jroldin’s hands. “I wonder why they didn’t take it when they searched me, though…”

“I dunno… the guards seem rather stupid if you ask me, as well as whoever is listening to the recording they are playing since they bugged the cell,” Jroldin said. “You know, they seem to lose their temper a lot, too. I was talking with one of their leaders, and boy, was he ever angry.”

“It doesn’t seem wise to be getting the leader angry…” Monty said, and he put a finger to his lips as he reached up the wall.”

“My dad taught me all my tricks about dealing with nasty gang leaders and such,” Jroldin said. “I suppose that also means I outrank you?”

“What?” Monty said, removing something from the wall. “I don’t get your… oh…”

“Yep,” Jroldin said. “Remove the ‘jr’ from my name, and I’m Oldin, leader of the FRI, and giving me a higher rank than you.”

“Very funny…” Monty said, and he looked around. “I wonder where we are.” Putting a finger to his lips, he pointed at an object in his hand—a bug. Monty crushed it.

“Fraid I can’t help you there,” Jroldin said. “I asked, but he got rather mad. Although that might have been because I included the timeshare comment…”

“There are better things to do than to make people who hold your life in their hands to be ticked at you,” Monty said.

“I suppose,” Jroldin said. “But-”

At that moment, there was a loud explosion up ahead. Running feet and gunshots soon fired. Monty instinctively ducked and reached for where his gun would have been if it hadn’t been confiscated. “What was that?”

“Oh that?” Jroldin asked, leaning relaxingly against the wall. “That’s probably my dad crashing in to break me out. See, when they searched me for my dad’s tracers, they didn’t search me terribly well to see if I had a second tracer, and so they didn’t find the one in my mouth. Oh well; I suppose there are worse things in life than the bad guys being thwarted in their evil plans. Have fun failing, Mr. Bad Guy bugging us! I’ll see you in the jail cell!”

“Well, I just kind of removed the bug..." Monty muttered. "So he ain't going to hear that."

"Awww..."