Part CX: Civil War

Date: Kapton 15th, 114 A.U.

“Today marks a new day for the race of the goblins!  As the media leaks earlier this morning have revealed, your high priest has refused to listen to common sense and join with me!  Jaine has utterly refused to work together with me and has declared his own war against me to instate himself as head!” Freglak roared.  “And so we must stand together now, my fellow goblins.  It’s us against them!  We who would destroy the elves who have for so long remained a blot upon our fair land are now being attacked by our own priests who refuse to help me against the elves!  If they are not against the elves, then they are indeed for the elves!  Warriors of the goblins, unite!  Too long have we lain under the foot of the merciless High Priest!  Jaine must give up his position to another and they must not be allowed to stop our victory over the elves!”

Kapton 16th, 114 A.U.

 “The Mothertree has spoken,” High Priest Jaine said solemnly.  “The victory that your Lord promises is built on vanities.  Your troops have been defeated again and again because you have forsaken the Old Weapons and your belief in the Mothertree.  You have seen the Mothertree’s power.  You have seen what it can do.  The time has now come for us to slay those heretics who denounce her power and her voice.  I am the Prophet of the Mothertree!  Lord Freglak shall be lord no longer but will be dethroned.  It is time for a true prophet and a true priest to take the kingship of the Great Forest.  The Mothertree will save us from the elves.  But first we must wage war with the heretics.

Kapton 17th, 114 A.U.

The first gun shot of war erupted in the early morning when a group of Lord Freglak’s warriors stormed the headquarters of the Great Forest Network, the 2nd Largest news station among the goblins, and the one that supported High Priest Jaine.  The equipment was destroyed, and the bloody bodies of the most ardent critics of Lord Freglak were discovered.  The attack was passed off as a group of rebels who had nothing to do with Lord Freglak, but within a few hours, the truth was discovered.  The survivors of the news station, taking security with High Priest Jaine, soon got the equipment to broadcast their news from behind the protection of the priests, calling all goblins to arms against Lord Freglak.

War had begun.

Kapton 19th, 114 A.U.

“The priests’ defenses are too strong,” Major Erklen replied.  “Most of our warriors are scared to death of the Mothertree and won’t go anywhere near her.” 

Freglak leaned over the map which detailed the defenses already put up in the city, as the Mothertree and his Capitol had become the two meeting places of the two new factions that were setting themselves up both in this city, and across the rest of the Great Forest.  He had recalled Major Erklen from the line of battle against the elves in order to put down this rebellion.

“Bah.  Blast the Mothertree,” Freglak snarled.  “Just annihilate it and send the troops in.”

“You know we can’t do that,” Erklen reminded Freglak.  “There are too many of our warriors that still believe in the Mothertree but just think that we need a different High Priest than Jaine.  If we destroy the Mothertree, we’ll be facing huge desertions.”

“The Mothertree is their god,” Freglak pointed out.  “Kill their god, and the rest of their religion will collapse.  Once we show that she is not the all-powerful deity they claim she is, the rebellion will end.”

“If we can destroy it.”

“It’s a tree, Erklen!” Freglak snapped.  “How could it escape a mass bombing?”

“Do you want to know the answer to that question, my lord?”



Four hours later, the first real battle of the civil war began in the trees of the city.  Three squadrons of goblins sallied out from the vicinity of the Mothertree under the direction of the priests in order to break the blockade forming around the Mothertree.  The blockade was broken and the defenders wiped out, but few of the attackers survived to tell the tale to the High Priest.  Although they wielded the Old Weapons, the guns and ammunition on Freglak’s side and shot many of them down before they could come close.  And although once they got close enough, Freglak’s troops were utterly decimated, too many had died in the charge to get there.  The casualties had stacked up so great that they could not afford to do so again.



“Freglak thinks that he has bested us,” High Priest Jaine murmured as he stood atop the Mothertree looking at the city around them, smoke rising from the trees where fire was raging, as skirmishes were sparked all around the city between those fighting for Freglak and those fighting for the Mothertree. 

“Our casualties this day have been great,” the priest standing next to him said.  “If we are to attack him again, we must have a better plan.”

“The Mothertree will provide our needs,” Jaine replied smoothly.  “Let Freglak think that he has won the battle this day.  We will merely laugh at him when the tables are turned on the morrow.  I have spoken with the Mothertree today and she has revealed much.  Freglak has already lost another crucial battle to the elves on the warfront today, although Freglak has yet to hear about it.  The Elder Dragon has broken loose once more.  The troops of war are gathering.  And the Elder Dragon will be our key to victory.”

I apologize for the lack of posting these past two weeks.  We should be moving back to a normal posting schedule now.

Part CIX: Moving On

Date: Kapton 15th, 114 A.U.

“So where are you going next?”

“We don’t know,” Reynyagn confessed, sitting in a ring of chairs with the rest of the Xavier Team, Sereth, Hazael, Monty, and Rezja.  “We didn’t have any immediate idea of what to do after we got the Arglem.”

“I see,” Rezja replied.  Following their miraculous escape from the Caves of Dragla, the Xavier Team had decided to go back with Sereth and Hazael to Rezja and the group of rebel elves in order to recuperate and plan their next mission.”

“We have two of the Golden Weapons to Jaigran’s three,” Flek pointed out.  “The Golden Weapons play an essential role in this battle, so I would think that the battle is leveling out as we get more and more equal.  We need to find the others.”

“What more are there to find?” Astrid asked.

“One was given to each race,” Augger replied.  “Jroldin has the weapon of the dwarves, and Reynyagn wields the weapon of the Sla’ad.  Jaigran appears to have the weapon of the orcs since he can use orcish magic, and if he wields a spear, that would be the weapon of the humans.”

  “I don’t know what the other weapon is, but he got it from the Citadel of Tzel-Maret,” Rezja said.  “That much we have picked up on our communication esponiage.”

“Then he most likely has the weapon of the elves,” Augger said.  “Meaning that the last weapons still out there are the weapon of the goblins and the weapon of the auggers.”  There was silence as the members thought.

“What do you know of the weapon of the auggers?” Jroldin asked.

“Little,” Augger replied.  “I know where it was once kept from my memories, but that place was destroyed by the augger slayers.  I am confident that my augger brethren are in hiding and not slain, but I do not know where they hid themselves.  Alas, for my ancestor’s betrayal of his own kind.”

“Jaigran shouldn’t know it either, though,” Monty pointed out.  “And if we can only get the other, we’ll be equal with the Golden Weapons.  We almost beat him in Tzel-Maret, when he had one more than us.  When equal, and with all of us together, we most assuredly ought to have a fighting chance against him.”

“What do you know of the weapon of the goblins, Flek?” Zarien asked.

Flek pursed his lips.  “I had never heard of golden weapons until I began on this quest.  Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“If it’s somewhere in our forest, then there’s only two people, or groups, that could have it,” Flek said.  “Either Lord Freglak has it somewhere in his military arsenal, or, which I’m afraid is probably the more likely possibility, the cultic priests who worship the Mothertree have it.”

“The priests of the Mothertree appeared weak, though not completely powerless, when I was among your kind,” Reynyagn said.  “Besides which, they believed the prophecies.  If they believe in Xavier’s prophecies, which I would assume that they do, they should jump at the chance to help us.”

  “Assuming no further conflicts escalated between them and Lord Freglak,” Flek muttered, before raising his voice.  “In all honesty though, that seems like the best plan that we can go after at this point.  We need to be more powerful before we challenge Jaigran again, and this seems like the best way.  And I would be glad to see my lord again.”

“Perhaps you could also bring him messages from us,” Rezja asked.  “We’ve been trying to send ambassadors to him to join us together against Emperor Jaigran but have not received a reply yet.”

“We’ll talk to him,” Reynyagn said.  “As long as we get there safely, rest assured that Lord Freglak will begin to send you a response.”


“I miss seeing you here,” Hazael said.

“Hey, I will too, but we should be back here soon enough assuming everything goes well,” Zarien replied.  “This seems like it’s becoming our main base of operations.  I don’t think your friend will like it very much, though.”

“Sereth…  Sereth will manage,” Hazael said slowly.  “She just need to learn to adjust.  You do too.”

“Yeah,” Zarien said, shrugging it off.  “We’ll see.”


“…So I’ll be gone for a while, okay?” Zarien asked, talking slowly to Cortna while she tried to build some structure with blocks.  “I’ll be back as soon as our mission is over.  Don’t forget about me, can you try?”

Cortna said nothing, pursing her lips tighter as she balanced another block on top of another. 

Zarien bit his lip as he leaned closer.  “I love you, Cortna,” he said, lightly kissing her on the cheek before standing up.  Cortna stiffened, and after waiting to see if he might get any response, Zarien moved toward the door, taking one last glance at her before closing it behind him. 

A single tear rolled down Cortna’s cheek.


The engines began to roar as Zarien hiked up the last of the many bags he had been dumped with, trying to put most of the weight on his mechanical leg as he hobbled over toward the gangplank.

“I put the correspondence and intel for Freglak in the third compartment,” Rezja was yelling to Reynyagn over the roar of the engines.  “He should find the information quite satisfactory.”

“I’ll make sure he gets it!” Reynyagn replied.  “We sent some messages to Araelia as well to see if Governor Iraina will establish any connection with you.  Ex-governor Astrid, our primary communicator in Araelia, has been unclear recently of her communication with Iraina, so I’m not completely sure what’s going on there, but we’ll keep trying.”

“Many thanks!” Rezja replied.  “Have a safe voyage!”

“And keep yourselves safe as well,” Reynyagn replied.  “We’ve got a firm base here that could do much to help our cause.  If we can keep it.”

Book IV: The Watcher has begun.  To wrap up Book III's comment contests, Warbaron has officially won in a landslide.  As his prize, he gets to name and come up with a personality of one of the auggers that live in Quelia (the main island where the Auggers live.)  The auggers will play a central role in Book IV as it comes to a close.  Book IV: The Watcher has now begun.  The serial will run until Part 136 and possibly an Eprilogue to bring the saga to an end.  Therefore, without further ado...

Prologue: Ambassador of the Auggers

Date: Kapton 14th, 114 A.U.

Ranvier, ambassador of the auggers, was on a mission to discover the secrets of the Noon-Stone and why it no longer went about its course.  He moved under a tree as he noticed the airship coming up, pressing himself against it as he watched it move toward him.  It may be that the elves’ reign over the main continent had already been destroyed and the airship may now be hostile, but he wasn’t willing to take many chances.  He had already decided that the best course of action was to travel until he found civilization and could question a non-elf about the current state of Arquenia.

“The life source is right below us,” the elven pilot said.  “We just passed right over the source and it’s still there.  It must be a fugitive or nomad of some sort.”

“Either way, land the ship,” the elven commander replied.  “I’ll tell the orcs to prepare to engage the being, whomever it may be.  And we will discover why it has strayed so far from the fold.”

Ranvier watched the ship landing with worry.  Had they somehow spotted him?  He put a hand to his gun, preparing to fight if needed.  They may yet be possible allies, not enemies.  He watched from behind the tree as a door opened, and then as orcs began to step out.

Orcs.  Ranvier searched his memories.  They had allied themselves with the elves.  He couldn’t take the chance.  It was time to run.

Bolting, Ranvier moved toward the forest that was nearby, hoping to find cover there.  He didn’t dare shoot at the orcs unless they shot first.  They may yet not be with Jaigran’s orcs.  A lightning bolt sailed past him, singing the air.  That was it.  They were enemies.

Spinning around, Ranvier turned to fight, firing several shots as the orcs moved closer, but the orcs were already ready.  An explosion filled his mind as he was hit, stumbling backward as another hit him, his consciousness quickly receding as the blackness set in.  His last thought was that he had just failed as the ambassador of the Auggers.

And then there was blackness.

Epilogue: Declaration of War

Date: Kapton 14th, 114 A.U.

A fly buzzed around the pavilion where Lord Freglak and High-Priest Jaine sat, discussing politics, the stage opened up so that any who passed by could see them, although they had set up equipment so that they couldn’t hear.  Newscasters stood outside discussing their predictions for this meeting.  They met behind closed doors—but doors of glass—a precautionary measure to keep any devious play of assassination.

“We don’t have to be political enemies,” Freglak continued.  “We can seize our victory over the elves if we put aside any of our previous quarrels and work together at our ultimate joint goal of defeating the elves.  Let’s face the situation rationally.  You need my leadership, and I need your prophesy.  And the rest of the goblins need to see us united.  You have surely adequately proven the power of the Mothertree.  Together we can destroy them.”

Jaine sat for a moment contemplatively before he leaned in, his thin lips opening as his tongue flickered.  “Nice speech,” he said.  “But not good enough.”

Freglak stiffened.  “The people want unity,” he said in a low tone.  “You’ve seen their reactions to my speeches the past couple days.  They love it.”

“Ah, yes, the general populace loves to hear propaganda,” Jaine said.  “They eat it up.  But I think that, between the two of us, we both know that their loyalties have more shifted toward the Mothertree than toward you.”

“A loyalty which I shifted back with my call to unity, what of it?” Freglak asked, trying to move on.  “They need to see unity, and so I don’t see why we should continue to bicker amongst ourselves.”

“The words of the one who knows that he’s already the underdog,” Jaine mused, but then his tone sharpened.  “Let’s look at this realistically.  Your stock has been utterly defeated.  That’s the only reason that you’re begging here.”

“I’m not-”

“Let me finish,” Jaine snapped.  “I am the victor and you are the underdog.  So you will hear my terms on this, and about all other issues.  We can stand unified for the public—whatever we need to do to get them behind us so that we can beat the elves.  But the war will be done according to the rules of the Mothertree.  No profane weapons like guns or tasers, but by the Mothertree’s standards, and by the Mothertree’s strategies.  That will be our compromise.”

Freglak bristled.  “Compromise?” he snapped.  “What kind of compromise is that?  Do you expect me to become your puppet?”

“I expect you to do whatever I tell you to do,” Jaine said coldly.  “You obviously have shown yourself inadequate for the task of defeating the elves.  The public knows that only the Mothertree can bring us victory.  You will obey our requests because we have been already declared the victors.”

“And if I refuse?”

A smile played across Jaine’s lips.  “I think we both know the answer to that, Freglak,” Jaine whispered. 

Freglak stiffened as he pondered it, before he violently stood up.  “Very well,” he said coldly.  “I believe that this meeting is done.”

“And the conclusion?” Jaine asked, standing up, still smiling.

“I believe that we both know the answer to that,” Freglak replied.  “You obviously are unwilling to work with me and have so committed political suicide.  Enjoy your war.”

“Oh, I will,” Jaine said, eyes narrowing.  “And we will see who has actually committed political suicide, Freglak.  Pray to your gods, if you have any.  You’ll be needing them.”

Part CVIII: Escape

Date: Kapton 12th, 114 A.U.

The cave crumbled around them as they dashed through the passage into the other half of the Caves of Dragla, rocks breaking around them as they moved out of the passage into a new network of caves.  Jroldin tried to stop to catch his breath.

“We can’t stop now!” Augger said.  “If we stop, we’ll be holed in too easily!  They’ll be swarming the place soon!”

“How are we supposed to escape then?” Astrid yelled.  “Our ship’s crashed!”

“Our ship is large enough!” Zarien said.  “We brought a big enough ship here so that we could take all of you, if needed!”

“About time someone started to pay attention to important details,” Hagion muttered.

“We can control it remotely as well!” Zarien said.  “It’s the latest of it’s kind and whatever.  So I can call it to move directly to where we will emerge!”

“Well if that isn’t the newest thing,” Monty said.  “You’re a life saver, Zarien.”

“Just make sure that you don’t call it until we’re near the exit!” Reynyagn said.  “If they see the ship leaving and chase after it, we won’t have much time to escape!”


“What do you mean you’ve lost them?”  Veins bulged in the Emperor’s face.

“Well, I’m not the one who let a whole freaking airship go down into the caves,” Unyihi Garum snapped, letting himself fire back a shot at the Emperor for once.  “The machine wrecked havoc on our forces and decimated most of them when it crash-landed!” 

“We.  Were not.  Expecting others out here,” the Watcher said, slowly forcing the words out.  “And we certainly didn’t expect any other team members out here to decide to drive an airship into the caves.  They caught us by surprise.  It won’t happen again.”

“So where are they now?” Emperor Jaigran demanded.  “What happened to them?”

“They dashed into a passage and then collapsed it behind them,” Unyihi Garum snapped.  “I managed to electrocute one of them before it closed, so one of their pitiful lot is dead, but we couldn’t follow them.  I checked the map and apparently they knew what they were doing.  We were in one half of the cave complex and they just escaped to another—one that’s only connected by one passage.”

“The passage they collapsed,” Jaigran snapped, cursing. 

“It matters not,” the Watcher said in a low voice.  “Why does it matter to us if they are in the other passage?  There are no other exits.  They’ll be trapped.”

“At least one would hope,” Unyihi Garum replied.  “I watched them down there.  Their strategy rested on getting into that passage and they looked willing to put everything on the line to do so.  They had the full opportunity to flee from us, and once the airship crash-landed, they could have tried to beat us, though it would have been hard for them to do so.  But they didn’t.”

“What are you suggesting?”  The Watcher stood up, eyes narrowing.

“I’m suggesting that the Xavier Team isn’t stupid,” Unyihi Garum snapped.  “They fought like they had an escape plan.  And I’m betting they did.  We assume too quickly that there is no other exit from the other half.  I’m suggesting that that assumption may not be completely accurate.”


“I don’t think I’m wondering anymore why this exit tunnel was kept a secret for so long,” Astrid muttered, brushing away cobwebs.

“From my brief calculations, I suspect that we’ve travelled far enough away from the actual caves that we’d be under the city by this point,” Jroldin remarked.  “The tunnel looks manmade.” 

“I suspect depending on where we show up that we may very well emerge in the palace,” Reynyagn replied.  “Given that this tunnel wasn’t used while the Caves of Dragla was a tourist attraction, and given its secrecy, I suspect that it may very well have been intended to be used as an emergency exit.”

“One which the Sla’ad king didn’t use?” Monty questioned.

“The King of the Sla’ad evacuated the city before it was fully taken over before he was finally beaten and killed in a battle outside in these mountains,” Reynyagn replied.  “He wasn’t forced into using this emergency exit, and so he didn’t.”

“And here’s the exit,” Augger said, as they rounded the corner to see a spiraling stair case.  Quickly moving up the metal stairs, Augger opened the last door and they emerged out of a secret door in the wall into a room which looked familiar to Jroldin.

“The throne room!” Jroldin said.

“Aye,” Reynyagn replied.  “The throne room of the Sla’ad.  A well-placed back exit for the king.  We’re out, so you can go ahead and signal your ship to pick us up, Zarien.”

Jroldin finally sat down, catching his breath, as he did a quick head count of those in the room.  His first count was two over the number that they had, and he briefly wondered why there were suddenly eleven of them, before he remembered that Zarien had returned with two companions.  But then there should have been twelve of them…  Who-

“Brother Tomas!” Jroldin suddenly blurted out, leaping to his feet.  “Where is he?  Why-”  He stopped as he was met with a couple of averted gazes.

“What happened to him?” Flek asked, obviously in the dark as well.

“Not all of you saw it,” Reynyagn said softly.  “It happened just as we collapsed the tunnel.  One of the orcs hit him with his lightning bolt.”

“But, but-“ Jroldin stammered, trying to come to grips with what had happened.  “Why did we-”

“We couldn’t stop to wait with the tunnel collapsing all around us and so I gave the order to go,” Reynyagn replied in a grief-stricken tone.  “I didn’t have enough time to pick up his body before he was buried.  I…  I’m so sorry, Jroldin.”

“First it was Kaln, then Rider, and now Brother Tomas,” Zarien said softly as they rode in their airship, having successfully completed their escape from the elves.

“We knew coming into this that there would be risks involved,” Augger said.  “I only wish that the risks would not have already come to such a great head-count already, when we still are far from our goal.”

“We must press on,” Reynyagn said.  “We have two of the Golden Weapons already.  We can’t give up now.”

“We must go forward,” Flek said.  “Move forward to claim our destiny as the Xavier Team.  And may the blessing of the Great One be upon us.”

Part CVII: Narrow Encounters

Date: Kapton 12th, 114 A.U.

Reynyagn moved quickly through the tunnels, leading the group as he listened hard, but still found himself unable to hear them.  They were nearly there to the passage that they needed to get to—the passage between them and the elves.  They just had to hope that they’d get there first—or at least quickly enough so that they could quickly defeat the elves in their way before moving in.

Rounding the corner, Reynyagn skidded to a stop before backing up before peeking back around to see the squadron of elves and orcs marching toward them.  They had made their tracks too obvious when coming here, making it easy for them to be tracked. There were too many elves and orcs—and too many of them in unison.  Reynyagn thought hard.

“We need a distraction,” Monty said.  “They’re continuing to march on us—we have to stop them!”

“Precious few of them have corsha weapons,” Reynyagn said, unslinging the Arglem.  “I’ll blend in the shadows.  Stay back until I make an adequate enough distraction.  And then charge.”


“So now what?” Sereth asked as she pushed the door closed to the outside.  “We have your old vehicle.  We’re basically trapped in here thanks to all the guards out there as well.  What’s your plan?”

“To save the rest of the Xavier Team,” Zarien muttered as he tapped at the computer.  “How big are these caverns?”

“The caves of Dragla?” Sereth asked.  “They’re huge!  One of the seven natural wonders of Arquenia!  They say that-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Zarien said with a wave of his hand.  “We don’t need to get into the whole science of it.  “Are there any tight passages?”

“Well, it is a cave,” Sereth said, a bit scornfully.  “There are tight passages, but-“

“Here’s the map,” Zarien said, pointing to a photocopy of the map of the Caves of Dragla.  How many narrow passages are there?”

"Not many…” Sereth said as she peered over it.  “I mean, there are some, but-”

“We can take that chance,” Zarien said as he quickly began pushing buttons to turn the vehicle on.

“What are you doing?” Sereth cried out in shock as Hazael just watched, a growing smile on his face.

“I’m turning this thing on of course,” Zarien said, a wry smile playing across his lips.  “And we’re going to go save the Xavier Team.”


He emerged out of the shadows, blinding light whipping around them.  Troops fell back in confusion as the shadowy figure emerged, rippling light pouring out of him as it took the form of a whip, weaving around them and slicing through them as soldiers screamed out in pain, falling all around them.

"Take him out!” Unyihi Garum yelled as he shot a bolt of lightning at the Sla’ad.  But like the stories went, the lightning did nothing.  The only thing that could hurt a Sla’ad was intense heat.  But the Garum had intense heat to offer.

Fire poured out of his gauntlets as he stepped forward, shooting lines of flame at the Sla’ad who quickly dodged them while moving to the side beyond the field of battle, taking out some of the fleeing outskirts as he moved around them.

“Don’t let him get away!” Unyihi Garum yelled, charging toward the Sla’ad.  “Fire-orcs come with me!  You three with the corsha weapons!  Everyone else charge down the tunnel!  His friends can’t be far behind!”


“Move.  Now.  While we still have the chance.”  Monty gave the command and they moved, Jroldin and Flek in front with their corsha weapons.  Flek didn’t really think he would be able to deflect the bullets with his weapons given his loss of power, but he was going to try.  If someone had to die among them, it was going to be him.

Shots rang out as the others began taking out the battalion in front of them, but Flek could already see that it wouldn’t be enough.  Not enough of the troops had been killed or distracted.  There were still too many of them to handle—and they were nearly covering the passage they had to get to now. 

Bullets sped his way.  He ducked, barely managing to block one as another sliced a line across his knuckles, pain blossoming as he rolled, biting back his emotions.  He was lost.  He was completely lost.  He was in the middle of a war situation and it was just as he feared.  All his power was thanks to the Watcher.  Everything else in him was worthless.


The head orc was good.  Unyihi Garum—assuming it was him, as the golden skin seemed to indicate—knew exactly what it took to kill a Sla’ad, picking the only people out of the group that could kill him while leaving the rest to chase down the rest of his party.  And Reynyagn hadn’t been counting on that.

Dodging a ball of fire, Reynyagn spun, moving down to the ground as the Arglem flung itself out, crackling around a helpless orc as his flames did nothing to keep the Arglem from ripping into him as Reynyagn jerked back, ending the orc’s life as he moved to the side quickly.  He couldn’t do this forever.  He had to get back to the others—fast.  Reynyagn was just beginning to make his plans when there was a noise in the distance, and Reynyagn looked up to see it coming right at them.


Few would have had the insight to drive a ship into the Caves of Dragla, Zarien thought with a wry smile.  Yet he had.  Quickly driving it into the enlarged hole that the elves had made before they had figured out what was happening, Zarien had merely followed the squadron of elves to here, where they were fighting back a desperate Xavier Team.  Too late they saw him coming as Hazael moved the machine gun, shooting them down.

“How are we going to land?!” Sereth yelled.  “We need to keep this intact for the return journey!”

“I don’t know!” Zarien snapped.  “We need to shoot all of them down so that they have enough time to board!”  Zarien maneuvered the machine to the side as he prepared to give another sweep of the chamber.  Too late he saw the gold-skinned orc pause from shooting fire balls at Reynyagn to fix his stare on them, lifting up his gauntlets.  Lightning flung out of his fingers.  And powerless to stop, Zarien could only try to vainly move the machine out of the way in time before lightning hit.
Electricity coursed through the machine as Zarien was flung from the driver’s seat.  Everything spun as Zarien struggled to keep his balance.

“Get out!” he heard a roar, and then he was swooped up by strong arms as Zarien barely managed to think straight enough to see Hazael holding him and Cortna as they crashed through a window.  Glass broke through his arm as they broke out of the ship and into the cavern.  He twisted his head just in time to see the ship crash into the battalion of elves.


“Get in there!” Reynyagn yelled as he dodged the last fireball before hurdling over the crashed ship, killing several elves with his crackling Arglem.  “This is our chance!”  Get in there.  Moving quickly, Flek ran toward the passage as he gestured to the others.  He didn’t know how Zarien had gotten their ship down here, or who the two other elves with Zarien were, but he didn’t need to ask.  The crashed ship had killed enough of the elves and had scattered enough of the rest that the passage was wide open.  Flek ran into the passage just behind Reynyagn.

“Get in here!” Reynyagn yelled toward the winged elf holding both Zarien and the female elf.  “We can escape here!”  The winged elf swooped down as the others came in, shots ringing out all around.

“This passage is narrow enough—you need to collapse it!” Monty roared as he pointed to Reynyagn’s Arglem as Brother Tomas, the last of their group, came in.  Reynyagn swung the Arglem upwards.


No.  They couldn’t.  Unyihi Garum was furious.  Jaigran had let these elven rebels take a whole ship into the tunnels—completely ruining his scheme!  They were all but escaped now as Unyihi blindly charged forwards as he saw them collapsing the tunnel with the Arglem.  With one last desperate attempt, Unyihi leapt on top of the fallen machine, lightning crackling from his fingertips as it shot forward.  Rocks came down as the tunnel collapsed.  But the lightning hit first.  And Unyihi felt a tinge of accomplishment as he watched the brown-cloaked figure collapse to the ground.  And then the entrance to the passage caved in.

Part CVI: Holed In

Date: Kapton 12th, 114 A.U.

Slowly, Reynyagn pushed the door open, almost fearful about what traps they might find next.  He opened the door into darkness as he thrust his torch out.  All around them, gold glittered as gems hung on the wall.  And at the end of the hall filled with treasures was the Arglem, shining out on its perch.

“The Arglem,” Flek said.  “After our long search we have it.”

“Maybe that means I won’t have to keep following you all around throughout Arquenia then,” Hagion mumbled. And then, there was an explosion in the distance.


“Keep moving!” Emperor Jaigran roared, as the rocks piled down into the now-larger hole, consolidating as they began to form a ramp downward.  More engineers worked and more rocks tumbled, now making a better slope as elven soldiers began to move downward into the caves.

“We have them properly caught now,” Unyihi Garum rumbled.  “Shall I lead my battalion of orcs down into the caves to take them?”

“Go,” Jaigran replied.  “Leave the Sla’ad, the augger, and the goblin alive, but kill all the others.  I wish to question the Sla’ad and the augger, them being the two leaders of the group, especially since we have not heard of these auggers before.  As for the goblin?  The Watcher wants him, and I will not question his decision.”

“Yes, zar!” Unyihi replied.  And with that, he gave a bellow to his orcs and they descended along with the elves.

“They will fare no chance,” the Watcher said as he watched them go.  “The Xavier Team is trapped.”


Zarien quickly moved inside the vehicle as the elf fell down beside him, the bloody knife now in Zarien’s hand as he moved quickly through it, Sereth and Hazael following him.

“How many more guards?” Hazael asked.

“Hopefully no one else is in here,” Zarien hissed as he moved to the control panel of the Xavier Team’s ship.  But there might be some still in here trying to find stuff out about us.  You and Sereth can go check while I contact the rest of the team.”  Sereth shot him a warning glance about him ordering her around, but Zarien ignored her.  Quickly pushing buttons, Zarien strained his memory before remembering how to work it, quickly bringing up the communicator to contact the rest of the Xavier Team.

“Zarien to the Xavier Team.  Zarien to the Xavier Team.  Do you read me?”  Zarien waited, hoping for a response.  After two minutes, a reply came.

"This is Reynyagn.”  The voice was curiously devoid of much emotion.  “What do you want?”  The response puzzled Zarien for a bit before he realized why Reynyagn was acting this way.

“Hey,” Zarien said.  “Look I get it that I could be just Jaigran’s manipulation or an imposter or anything, but let’s move beyond that.  I’m currently in your ship aboveground.  The elves have found you here.  If you heard an explosion within the past ten minutes, it’s because the elves just created an easy passageway down to the cave systems and have the entrance up here heavily guarded.  I really hope that you know of some other exit down there, because otherwise, basically you’re trapped.  And Jaigran’s sending a whole boatload of troops down there to find you.”


Reynyagn kicked at the ground anyways.  “Shoot,” he finally said.

“Well, I guess that settles it,” Monty mumbled.  “If he was an imposter, I don’t see what Jaigran would gain by telling us this.  Because assuming that he’s telling the truth…”

“We’re in huge trouble,” Reynyagn replied. “And if he’s lying, we don’t have much to lose.  We need to get out of here—fast.”

“How?” Flek asked.  “You heard them—right?  The only exit out of here is blocked!”

“The Sla’ad have to had put another exit in here—some method of escape or easy entrance without exploding their way into this place,” Reynyagn snapped, quickly running through the hall of treasures as he threw them aside.  “There has to be some exit—otherwise from what Zarien said, we’re doomed.”

“Speaking of Zarien, he’s still on the other line,” Number 994 said, taking the walkie-talkie from Reynyagn.  “I’ll talk to him and see what he can come up with.”

“There’s a lot of writing on the walls,” Jroldin murmured as he looked at the archaic lettering.  “I can’t make out what it says, though…”

“It’s a tribute to their king and their cause, whom they’re hailing as martyrs,” Flek quickly said.  “I don’t know how I know that,” he quickly interjected, uncomfortable from all the stares that he was now getting.  “I don’t know when I learned that language, but that’s just what it says, okay?”

“I won’t question it,” Reynyagn said, picking up the Arglem and its sheath and strapping it onto his belt, bending down to look at the pedestal the Arglem had been on.

“We’re really doomed,” Astrid said nervously as she grabbed a gun off the walls.  “I don’t feel prepared to take out scores of elves, and I don’t think-”

“Yes—I’ve got it!  A map!” Reynyagn yelled as he held up the aging parchment, quickly scanning it.  “It’s a map of the Caves of Dragla!  We’re here…  and it looks like we came in here.”

“There’s another exit,” Augger murmured as he looked at the map.

“Aye,” Reynyagn said, grim-faced.  “And from the looks of it, we can get there, but the only route that connects us to that part of the cave system is right between us and the invading elves.”

“So you’re saying-“ Jroldin began

“We’ve got to get to that route before they do unless we want to fight our way through all those elves.  Otherwise, we’re doomed.”

Part CV: Humiliation

Date: Kapton 12th, 114 A.U.

It was all over the newspapers.  How Jaine had predicted the stunning results of the last battle where the Elder Dragon had broken loose and their forces had been utterly decimated.  About how new video footage had shown up showing the Mothertree moving and strangling Myrik—footage that apparently had been kept under lock and key before then.  A whole new speech by Jaine proclaiming himself as the High Priest of the Mothertree and espousing his belief about how the Mothertree would lead them into a new golden age over the elves.  And although he hadn’t cried for the dethroning of him yet, Freglak knew it was coming.  Jaine was subtle—spending time in his speech to speak out against all of his military practices.  The next speech would be the results of all this—the culmination of Jaine’s surprise surge from being completely destroyed to being a surging force—the next speech would call for a new Lord-Protector of the forest and for the dethroning of himself.

Freglak closed his eyes, tapping his fingers on the table.  How he wished that Flek and Reynyagn would still be here—he could use Flek’s amazing skillmanship in battle, as well as Reynyagn’s supreme intelligence.  But no.  They had left to beat the elves, and so he was left by himself to figure out how to dispose of this rising threat.  And Freglak knew what a distraction and a possible upcoming civil war would mean in the greater picture.  A civil war at this time would be to give the victory over to the elves.

“You could authorize an assassination attempt against Jaine, sir.”  Freglak looked up to his aide, remembering that he was supposed to be in a conversation here.

“I could…” Freglak said, lost in thought, before pursing his lips.  “I fear that it would only enflame things beyond repair, though.”

“How so?”

“I suspect that Jaine is expecting that,” Freglak replied.  “After all, he is fully aware of the fact that I know that he plans on moving against me.  And that I’m going to do whatever I can to stop his attack—which I will.  Which means that he probably has a set of bodyguards, as well as a plan for how to make this all backfire.  Just picture it.  Hours after a failed assassination attempt, Jaine comes out with a prepared speech blasting me for trying to kill him, getting all the new followers of the Mothertree behind him, and leading a full assault against me.  Given the sky-rocketing support of the Mothertree in the past few days, combined with news that I tried to kill their major leader, I suspect that it would be to give up the whole battle to Jaine.  He would win in a heart beat.”

“What do you plan on doing then, sir?  I mean, not to disagree, but won’t nearly the same thing happen if you don’t attack him, once he decides that it’s time to take full control?”

“He’ll try, but at least he won’t have the argument that I tried to assassinate him,” Freglak growled.  “And in case you didn’t get the hint from the speech that I gave yesterday, I’m publicly espousing my renewed belief in the Mothertree in the hopes that I might be able to make some compromise with Jaine in order to retain power in some way.”

“And you think Jaine will take it?”

“No, but the people might,” Freglak muttered.  “No, Jaine has known enough of me over the years to know that I’m not going to be his little puppet.  But what matters right now is who will have the support of the populace.  As long as when the battle lines are drawn, the vast majority aren’t behind him, thanks to all the arms and weapons we have, we will be able to defeat him in an all-out combat, although I fear that such a combat will give a huge lead to the elves.  My only hope right now is that I’ll have enough support of the populace that the two of us can compromise, that in doing so I’ll force Jaine to work with me or else dash all of his hopes down the drain.”

“Not to be presuming, sir…  But what about the Mothertree?”

“What about it?”

“I saw the footage, sir…  What…  What do you think it is?”

“There were too many witnesses for it to merely be good video editing,” Freglak said.  “I…  I honestly don’t know what it is.  It’s impossible that the tree actually be some divine being, but I don’t know how to explain it otherwise.”  He pursed his lips.  “Either way, it doesn’t matter.  Just make sure that all of our troops and aides are kept away from the near-vicinity of the Mothertree just to make sure that nothing happens.  And if war comes to war…”  He thought about that.  “Well then, we can put Jaine’s claim to the test that the Mothertree will not be destroyed with explosives.”


“Lord Freglak gave another speech today.”

“I saw,” Jaine said, not looking up.  “A last-minute defense to try to reconcile with me.  He knows that the deal’s up.  He knows that he’s doomed.”

“So what will our response be?”

“We will meet with him like he requested,” Jaine said, a smile playing across his lips.  “I will talk to Lord Freglak face-to-face, and I will make myself clear with him.  He will respond to all our requests and submit his will completely to ours.  Or else he will lose his throne.  There is no other alternative.”

Well, Warbaron has had a successful prediction, but will he be right in his next?  Let's see...

Part CIV: The Last Act of the Priest-King

Date: Kapton 12th, 114 A.U.

“Flek is gone,” the unearthly voice hissed.  “He has no power over his body anymore!  He has sold himself to me and to me he shall ever remain!”

  “Nay,” Jroldin said, stepping forward to bend down over Flek.  “But by the power of the Priest-King, I will fulfill my purpose.  Your reign over Flek is over.”  Reaching up, Jroldin hoped behind hope and grasped the ethereal circlet, taking it off.  To his wonder, his hands, although they felt emptiness, now held the circlet.

“No!” the voice hissed.  “It isn’t possible!  You can’t-”  But Jroldin, ignoring the voice, pushed the circlet down on Flek’s struggling head. Immediately, there was a flash of light as Jroldin moved his hands back.  There was a smell of burning as ethereal flames of fire licked the circlet, Flek’s body convulsing.  Out from the circlet, there rose an ethereal being in the shape of an elf, now cloaked with flames, who pointed at them, trying to say something before there was a rushing of wind.  The spirit flew back, and suddenly all was silent.  And Flek’s body fell limp.

Reynyagn and Augger stepped back.  “Did...” Reynyagn say, looking at Flek’s lifeless body.  “Is—Is Flek-”  He stopped, unable to say the word.  And then Flek’s body moved, his head turning, as slowly Flek opened his eyes into the moonlight, and at those around him.


“I…  I met him at the Mothertree years ago,” Flek said quietly as everyone around him listened.  “He promised me to give me power and skill beyond that of a goblin’s natural ability if I would let him in.  And…  And I did.  I was a weak goblin before that, one who wanted so much, and so I accepted him.  I have come to regret that choice.”

Reynyagn pursed his lips.  “But…  but you didn’t know…  You didn’t realize he had that much control over you?”

“I always knew that he could,” Flek said quietly.  “Part of the deal was that I’d let him take control of my body at some points so that he could experience it again.  But I was always able to stop him—or so I thought.  He always needed my permission, and after we learned there was a traitor, I thought this might be it, but he swore he wouldn’t take control over me anymore.  He said that he’d leave.  But…”

“He didn’t,” Monty said, a tone of disgust in his voice.  “And you believed him.”

“I know,” Flek said quietly.  “He must have taken control over me while I was sleeping.  And I…  I was completely unaware of it…”

“Well,” Reynyagn finally said after a long pause.  “I suspect we all already know without explaining how catastrophic that was—and how much worse it could have been had it not been inverted.  Either way, from what Astrid said, the elves likely know our plans.  And, for better or for worse, the Priest-King circlet is now permanently on Flek’s head.”

“I can see it,” Jroldin finally said, looking up.  “It’s on his head—but I can still see it.”

Brother Tomas turned toward him. “Does… does that mean?”

“Aye,” Jroldin replied.  “I have finally put my faith in the Great One.”


Reynyagn lurched to the side as four swords suddenly swung up at him on the floor, bouncing off of them as his shadowy form moved to the ground.

“It’s really a good thing that we have you here,” Astrid said as Reynyagn moved around the swords, the others slowly following behind.  “If we didn’t have you, and if the Sla’ad hadn’t made all their traps Sla’ad proof.”

“Well, that’s why the prophesy called for one from each race,” Reynyagn replied, bouncing his hand off of one of the sword blades before moving on.  “For situations such as this.”  This was the fourth trap that they had so far encountered while going through the Caves of Dragla, further proof that the Sla’ad had hidden the Arglem here.

“Either way, we really need to get out of here soon,” Monty said, glancing at his watch.  “We don’t know how much longer we have before the elves get here.”

“We can fight them back,” Astrid said.  “I mean—we nearly defeated them at the Citadel of Tzel-Maret.”

“Yes, but then we also had all of my fighting power,” Flek reminded her.  “I still had the being strengthening my skills.  And believe me.  Without them, I’m a worse fighter than Jroldin.”

“I find it hard to believe that,” Jroldin muttered.  Everyone laughed.


The elven ship slowly hissed down, gaining a secure footing before the door opened and the elven guards came marching out, bearing guns and fire-sticks as Emperor Jaigran and the Watcher stepped down in the midst of them.

“They likely know that we’re coming,” the Watcher said solemnly.  “After gaining all my memories from the other part of myself that inhabited Flek, I believe they are smart enough to figure out who I, through Flek, had been calling in the middle of the night.”

“It matters not,” Jaigran said, beating the air with his wings as he rose up.  “Guards!  Surround the hole—the only entrance into the Caves of Dragla!  Fixate our heaviest artillery there, and then we go in.  They’ll be traps like rats in a hole.  And there’ll be no escape.”


“The elves!” Zarien said, ducking to the side.  “They’ve found them!”

“And from the looks of it, they know that the rest of the team is down there,” Sereth said with growing horror as she watched as they began setting up heavy guns and cannons around the drilled-in entrance to the Caves of Dragla.  “Look at how they’re pointing all of the guns down!  Given everything else we heard-”

“They trapped like rats in hole,” Hazael said solemnly.  “Unless we stop them, the rest of the Xavier Team is doomed.”

Question of the Day: How will the Xavier Team escape their predicament?

Part CIII: Unmasked

Date: Kapton 12th, 114 A.U.

Astrid rolled, unable to fall asleep.  They had broken through into the cave late last night and had decided to wait until morning to break in.  But, both curious about what they were about to find, and still awake after a boring day, she was still awake.

Restless, she left her chambers, exiting the ship as she stood in the cool night air.  A shadow moved in the distance, and Astrid’s hand reached for her gun, slowly stepping forward.  Why was he…

Astrid stepped forward, determined to follow him.


The traitor moved forward, getting ready for his last radio signal.  Quickly pushing the buttons necessary, he spoke.  “This is the traitor of the Xavier Team, Code Name 2352 calling in.  Do you read me?”

“This is the Watcher, Code Name 2532 responding,” the voice finally came crackling through.  “Why are you calling me?”

“They have broken through to the caves below,” he replied.  “How soon will it be until you arrive?”


Astrid drew closer.  Who was he calling to at this hour?  And who was he calling to?  She moved forward around the crag, about to ask him what he was doing, and then stopped.  His voice was different—deeper.  And there was an edge to his voice—one that she had never heard before.

And, suddenly, a horrible pit forming in her stomach, Astrid took off running.


There was a sudden noise in the background—the sign of an eavesdropper.  He was being watched.  Suddenly, fear jolting through his senses, the traitor spun around to see a dark shadow moving.  This wasn’t according to plan.  And, charging forward, the traitor drew his sword, ready to stop the threat.


Astrid looked back, blinking as brilliant light from the corsha blade shown towards her.

“Stop!” Astrid shrieked, as everything seemed to fall to pieces around her.  “What are you-”  But he didn’t stop.  Firing one bullet behind her, which he quickly blocked with the corsha blade, she took off running, even though she knew it was faster with him. 

“Red alert!” Astrid shrieked into the walkie talkie, hoping that someone was up at the ship.  “This is Astrid calling in—I’m south of the ship and am being chased by the traitor!  Someone get over here fast!”

           

Number 994 sprang up, thoughts running through his senses as he received the message that was sent into the ship, thankful that he had slept while connecting himself to the ship.  Astrid was in trouble.

“Get up!” he roared, placing his hand on the light switch and electronically turning all the lights on.  “Astrid’s in trouble!”

Heart pounding, Astrid charged forward, sweat running down her forehead, as pure adrenaline drove her senses.  He was catching up.  And Astrid knew that if he caught up to her, he was going to kill her.  What had happened to him?  It couldn’t be—could it?  Was it possible that he had been the traitor all along?  And after all that they’d been through together…

Slipping, Astrid skidded, flying forward as she landed hard on the ground, rolling over to see him coming up closer.  In desperation, she fired the bullet, trying to ignore the fact that she was shooting a gun at the person who had once been her friend, even while knowing that he would easily block it, which he did.  Scooting backwards, she watched as he leapt forward, preparing herself for the impact which was sure to come. 

But it never came.

A bolt of lightning suddenly struck the traitor in the chest, throwing him back as the corsha blades flew from his hands.  Hitting the ground, still shocked that he had been attacked, the traitor leapt up again only to be hit by another lightning strike, before collapsing to the ground.  It was over.

Monty gripped Astrid tightly in her arms as she wept, while pointing his gun at Flek, lying stunned on the ground, feeling ready to pound the goblin into the dust for almost killing his sister.

“Why did you do it?” Monty asked viciously as Flek seemed to regain consciousness.  “Why did you betray us?”

Flek groaned, looking up.  “Wha…” he began, looking confused.  “Where am…”

“Don’t play stupid with us,” Monty spat.

"Let’s be tactful,” Jroldin said, stepping between the two of them as his eyes flashed.  “You are under questioning Flek for your treasonous acts and for your attempted murder of Astrid.  As the Priest-king, I claim the role of judge.  Why have you done this?”

“I…” Flek said, still looking confused.  “What do you mean?  I…  I just fell asleep, and…”

“I will destroy you.”  The foreign voice emitted from Flek’s lips as he contorted, before it broke, Flek suddenly stumbling back as realization filled his eyes.

“No!” Flek cried out, now in a normal voice.  “I thought—no—you said that-”

"Who said what?” Reynyagn asked.

“No!” Flek cried, rolling as if he was grappling with some invisible foe.  “Don’t—you can’t-”

Suddenly, his pupils went black, and Flek sprung up, arms outstretched, looking ready to kill.  A bolt of lightning again felled him to the ground before Reynyagn and Augger sprung forward, pinning him down as Jroldin forward.

“You will never win!” the deep menacing voice came out of Flek’s mouth.  “You will be destroyed.  All of you will fall under my-”

“No!” Flek’s voice again emerged.  “You can’t have control of me!  Let me…”

“I.  Am.  The real Flek.”  Beads of sweat began to emerge on his forehead.

“What is wrong with him?” Reynyagn asked, looking agitated, as he looked toward Jroldin for guidance.  “In all my years-“

“I can’t keep him back for much longer!” Flek cried out, again in a normal voice.  “I…  can’t…”

Jroldin stepped back, feeling caught by all the attention suddenly thrust on him after he tried to take his role as the Priest-King.  What was he supposed to do now, with Flek grappling with some imaginary foe?  What was he supposed to do?  Anxiety beat into him as he realized that he didn’t have much time, Flek again clawing at the ground as his pupils blackened.  Fretting, Jroldin was about to give up when suddenly, a wave of peace passed through him, as he recounted the words of the general prophesy, and of the words of the prophesy specific to him to mind. 

He was to be the Priest-King.

“Stop,” Jroldin said, stepping forward as he glared at Flek—or at whoever had taken control over him.  “Your reign over Flek is over.”

Question of the Day: What is Jroldin's solution?