Part CXX: End of the Line

Date: Kapton 21st, 114 A.U.

“It’s nice to see you again after fifty years,” the dwarf Nezore replied, leaning back on his chair.  “I’ve heard many conflicting reports of you as of late.  But I didn’t expect you to show up in my closet.”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” Astrid complained.  “It’s not like we haven’t done this sort of thing before.”

“No,” Nezore said as he opened a can of beer.  “But that was back when I was young—back when I could still fight.”  He pursed his lips before taking a swig.  “Go ahead and sit down.  I suppose you didn’t just come here to catch up on old times?”

“Why not?” Astrid asked with a shrug of her shoulders as she sat down, her grey hair brushing against her shoulders.  “It’s not like we didn’t have our share of adventures as part of the old Xavier Team.”

“Yeah, before you called our team illegitimate with your new team,” Nexore said as he raised an eyebrow.

“We had already agreed that our Xavier Team wasn’t the right one…” Astrid murmured.  “Had we not?”

“Some people did…” Nezore said and he sighed, tapping his beer can.  “But let’s be honest now.  You didn’t come to talk about our previous accomplishments.”

“No?”

“Oh, come on, Astrid—I know better than that,” Nezore said, smirking.  “You don’t think I’ve just happened to miss all the newspapers proclaiming your betrayal of the cause and your theft of the communicator from Governor Iraina?”

“The headlines aren’t that broad,” Astrid said, rolling her eyes.

            “No; but I’ve kept myself aware of everything you’ve done,” Nezore said.  “I’m not oblivious to what you did.”

“I wasn’t aware that you kept tabs on me…” Astrid murmured.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Nezore asked pointedly.  “We had been a team, right?”

“Yes…” Astrid murmured.  “But after the Upheaval-”

            “You were the one that gave up on us,” Nezore said in a low voice.  “And it wasn’t just the Upheaval.  Ever since you pursued the government track to become a member of the Council.  Jaigran wasn’t the only one to feel left out.”

            Astrid averted his gaze, pursing her lips.  “Fine,” she said quietly.  “So what’s your point?”

“I assume the allegations are true?”

“That I took the communicator?  Yes…  They’re true.”

“Because you allegedly don’t trust Iraina to lead the Xavier Team?”

“He’d lead them to commit suicide,” Astrid retorted.  “I couldn’t risk it.”

“I see.”  Nezore paused.  “You really believe that?”

Astrid looked at him strangely.  “Of—of course I believe that.  Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m sure Jaigran has a noble goal as well,” Nezore mused as he tapped his beer can.

Astrid’s eyes flashed.  “Are you comparing me to Jaigran?”

“No—no,” Nezore said, looking up.  “Forgive me for suggesting that.  But you and I both know that Jaigran wasn’t who he is now.  He used to have a heart before he threw his life away.  And my point is that we often deceive ourselves to our true intentions.”

“And what do you think my true intention is.”

“You’ve been in places of power for over a century,” Nezore replied.  “First as part of the Triumvirate, and then as Governor of Araelia.  Don’t get me wrong—I don’t necessarily have any problems with your governing.  For the most part, I completely agree with all of your decisions as Governor of Araelia.  But you have also become accustomed to power, Astrid.  I might even go so far as to say that you have a drive for power.”

“Bu-”

“Let me finish,” Nezore said, standing up as he put down his beer cup, getting up on a stool to make up for his shortness that came with being a dwarf.  “After the completion of the Xavier Team, all you’ve done is to pursue power.  When some of the rest of us were trying to deal with Jaigran and the Council that had decreed that horrible Massacre of the Sla’ad, you chose to change it by becoming part of the Council.  When tensions between you and Jaigran were the fiercest for the third seat on the Triumvirate, you did everything you could to stop him.  Don’t get me wrong—Jaigran had become a very amoral vengeful elf—but that wasn’t the sole reason for your actions.  You took the power and you made sure to use it.  And because of that sate for power, you helped to alienate him.  And we all know what Jaigran’s alienation caused.”

“I am not to be blamed for the Great Upheaval,” Astrid seethed.

“Of course not,” Nezore replied.  “But you affected it.  And it hasn’t been different since the Upheaval.  You rightly preserved Araelia and took governorship.  But then you kept it.  You held your love and desire for power above anything else—including establishing a communication with me.  That is why you stopped communicating with me—isn’t it?  Because you were accused of being the friend of the dwarves rather than of your own kind in your third election?”  Astrid didn’t reply.  “And now of course we get to your new Xavier Team!  You did the right thing but completely politicized what was necessary to be done!  Tell me, Astrid.  Tell me that wasn’t a political ploy!”

Astrid averted his gaze as she pursed her lips.  “I…” she said.  “I only…  I needed to do what was right.”

“But you were unwilling to relinquish your power,” Nezore replied softly, but still firmly.  “You did many things right, Astrid, but you knew it.  Pride has become your downfall.  Your pride and lust for power.  And that’s why you are now a refugee of the government.”

            Astrid closed her eyes.  “I…” she said, her voice breaking as her grey hair covered her face.  “I…  I should have talked more with you, Nezore.”

“You should have.”

“You always knew what to do, especially on the Xavier Team where you were the leader…” she whispered.  “I…  I don’t know why I stopped communicating with you-”

“-Yes you do.”

“-but I shouldn’t have,” Astrid finished.  “I…  I shouldn’t have done that.  And now…  I’m in a mess.”

“That you are,” Nezore replied, and he looked up at her.  “So what are you going to do?”

“What am I going to do?”

“Yes,” Nezore said, staring at her in the eyes.  “You can’t hide forever, Astrid.  You need to make your decision.”



Oldin picked up the newspaper on his way into work.  He didn’t have much time to read with the heat of the investigation.  But as the head of the FRI he still had to stay on top of the news.  He glanced at the headline, and then stared. 

“Ex-Governor Astrid Turns Herself into the Authorities.”  Oldin pursed his lips, pondering this for a moment—trying to figure out why exactly she would have chosen to do this.  He would have to ask Iraina the next time they met.  Or even better try to get a chance to visit Astrid when the investigation wasn’t so hectic, although she’d probably be in prison.

Oldin placed the newspaper on his desk.  He would need to read the full story later.

Part CXVIII: Storming the Castle

Date: Kapton 22nd, 114 A.U.

“New operatives from the Emperor.  The Mothership is here.”

“The what?” the lieutenant asked, turning on a heel.  “The Mothership is here?”

“Aye,” the commander replied.  “Apparently, during their newest upgrade, they gave it the cloaking devices that the pesky goblins used to avoid radar.”

The lieutenant blanched.  “So…  that means—the Emperor-”

“He’s here,” the commander replied.  “And he’s given us a new directive.  He’s decided it’s high time that we stop skirting their capital city while Jaine and Freglak destroy each other.”  The commander laid a finger on the map.  “We’re going in.”



A ring of barbed wire encircled the Mother Tree in front of the dirt wall of defenses, poison-coated crossbows set up behind it.  A ditch lay between the two, spiked stakes sticking up between it.  Above, there were enough hidden bowmen in the trees to take out the planes, wielding their custom-made explosive-tipped arrows.

“One would think with their refusal to use guns, we’d have an easy time at them,” Monty grumbled as he espied out their position. 

“You would hope,” Lord Freglak growled.  He had finally left the security of his palace.  The palace had been mostly destroyed by the Elder Dragon, and every extra goblin was needed for this final assault on Jaigran’s position.

“We can break in,” Reynyagn murmured.

“Aye,” Monty replied.  “We’ll use the few grenades that we have to make a gap in their defenses.  Zarien and you four goblin gunners—you’re going to get up into this tree and provide the cover that we’ll need.”

“I’ll use my Arglem, and Number 994 can use his lightning to stop their arrows,” Reynyagn replied.  “The rest of us will then charge in and take out their defenses as soon as possible.”

“Our greatest threat will be from above, though,” Flek pointed out.  “Although the bombs destroyed most all of their foliage, there are still far too many nooks and crannies in the Mothertree.  We’re not going to be able to get them out as easily.”

“That’s what our few fighter planes are for,” Lord Freglak reminded him.  “Once we begin our attack, I’ll alert them and they’ll provide an ample enough defense and destruction to let us through.”

“And then where exactly do we find Jaine?” Monty asked.

  Lord Freglak pointed to a smaller tree next to the Mothertree.  “There, in the Tree of the Offspring,” he replied.  “That was the priests’ old headquarters, in the tree they claimed was the offspring of the Mothertree.  That’s also where we believe Jaine set up his war headquarters.”

“No time to wait, then,” Reynyagn said.  “They might not know yet that the Elder Dragon and the goblin assassins are dead.  We need to act now, when they’re not expecting a counter-assault.”

“Let’s go, then,” Flek said.  And he threw the grenade.



Explosions rattled the priests’ defenses as wire curled, snapping back, dirt defenses blown apart as the defenders braced themselves as the smoke rose, laying their hands on their weapons as they pointed their crossbows into their smoke, waiting for the attack.

The attack came.  There was a clap of thunder, and lightning electrified two of the goblins on the crossbows, causing them to clutch their hearts in pain.  Gun shots rang, and a few more were killed as a burning light rose from the smoke, preceding a shadowy body who snapped the streak of light around, killing the hapless goblins nearby.

Shots began to ring out from the snipers above even as the roar of the aircraft became apparent.  The battle had begun.

           

Flek’s blood ran cold as two goblin warriors made for him.  Although he could have easily defeated them before, without his powers he knew that he was much more vulnerable.  But he still had something that they didn’t have.  And that was presence.

Feeling the adrenaline of battle building up inside of him, Flek moved forward, raising his eyebrows as he twirled his arjla corsha blades.  “So,” he belted out as shots rang out around them.  “You would challenge the great goblin warrior!”

The two goblins paused as they looked at him, and then a look of shock played across the face of one of them.  “Wait!” he suddenly cried.  “You—you’re-”

“Flek,” he replied, still advancing toward them.  “And I’ve returned to stop the likes of you from destroying our country.”  And ignoring his gut reaction, Flek leapt forward, raising his blades in a battle cry.

One of the goblins instantly gave a cry of fear, springing out of the way as the other only half-heartedly raised his weapon in defense.  The goblin blocked once against his attack, but then, freezing up, became too easy of a target as Flek lopped off his head, spinning around to see the other goblin fleeing in terror.  Regardless of his lack of power, he still had his reputation.  And Flek moved to stand beside Jroldin.



Number 994 shot down the goblin fleeing from Flek before moving for cover, looking up as he saw the battle raging above between the hidden snipers and Lord Freglak’s aircraft.  It wasn’t clear yet who the winner was, especially as Number 994 had no idea how many snipers were hidden in the tree.  Just then, Reynyagn came up to him.

“Most of the immediate defenses have been routed,” Reynyagn said, trying to catch his breath.  “We can’t fight a pitched battle.  We have to go find Jaine.”

“Right,” Number 994 agreed, pointing.  “That tree there?”

“Aye,” Reynyagn said.  “Let’s go.”



It began as a small object in the distance, slowly getting closer and closer as its size became apparent.  The noise of the engines began to grow as its white shape flew over the trees.  Monty shot down another goblin as he quickly moved closer to the tree, now nearly on top of it.  No good going in the front door, which was sure to be guarded.  Instead, he’d climb up to the 2nd floor windows.  He had just clambered up on the ledge, when, looking back, he saw the object and suddenly realized what it was.  The object that had haunted him in his dreams—the object which he had seen so many times at the Remembrance Ceremony.

The object which was now coming to wrack devastation upon the battle.

The Mothership.

Part CXVII: The Flight of the Elder Dragon

Date: Kapton 22nd, 114 A.U.

“That is the Elder Dragon,” Freglak said.  Reynyagn stepped forward as he saw the dragon cycling through the sky—the long green body that swooped behind it—the flaring long ears that cycled behind it—the scales that rippled in the sun as it now turned—and the glaring red eyes of destruction and revenge.

“To think that you could have thought to tame such a menace…” Reynyagn whispered.  “You can never tame a dragon.  Not forever.”  The dragon turned, blasting fire as he came down to make his second lunge at the palace.

“We don’t have much time!” Monty exclaimed.  “We have to stop him!”

“Then stop him we will,” Reynyagn said, leaping forward as he dashed across the room toward the broken windows, uncoiling the Arglem as the dragon flew toward him.  The two met at the windows, the dragon blasting through the shattered glass as Reynyagn swerved to the slide, swinging the Arglem as he was met by a blast of heat.

“Move!” Zarien yelled, leaping to the side as he drew his gun.  Number 994 sent a barrage of lighting at the dragon whose tail swept through the room even as Flek, though well-aware of his lost abilities, drew his arjla corsha blades as he leapt for the receding tail of the Elder Dragon.  Catching up just in time, Flek grabbed onto a spike as the Elder Dragon took off, smashing some of the supports in the room as it cycled back up into the heavens, Flek and Reynyagn still clinging onto it.

“Your day ends now!” Reynyagn roared from up ahead on the Elder Dragon, whipping the Elder Dragon with the Arglem.  The corsha burnt, but failed to penetrate, the dragon’s scales.  The Elder Dragon gave a roar, tossing and turning as Flek struggled to hold on, as it dueled with Reynyagn up ahead.  Slowly, his blades now sheathed, Flek struggled to climb up the dragon’s scales even as it began to descend for another attack on the palace.



The ceiling cracked and cracks rang out through the walls as Zarien dashed out of the room, the ceiling falling through behind them as they quickly made their exit, fires leaping up behind them, the last gifts of the Elder Dragon.  The palace was collapsing around them as they quickly made through the corridors.

“To the left!” Lord Freglak yelled.  “The barracks is that way!  We need to organize the troops for combat!”

“I can work to repair any broken airships you might have!” Number 994 yelled.  “If they have circuiting problems, that is!  We need to get as many as possible up there to deal with the Elder Dragon!”

“Where’s Flek?” Astrid suddenly asked, noticing his disappearance.

“He grabbed onto the Elder Dragon as it left!” Zarien said.  “Just keep moving!  He’ll be able to fend for himself!”



Reynyagn gritted his teeth as the waves of fire blasted through him.  Although immune to most fire, the fire of the Elder Dragon was searing-hot, reaching the intensity of the corsha blades, thus making him susceptible to their pain.  It took a blade of extreme heat to kill a Sla’ad neglecting old age.  But the fire of the Elder Dragon could be enough.

Moving to the side as he gripped the long ear of the Elder Dragon to hold on, Reynyagn whipped the Elder Dragon across the face as it gave a roar, diving low to the ground, as Reynyagn moved to the side, glancing back to see Flek behind him, struggling to climb up to meet him.  Too late, as the Elder Dragon rolled, Reynyagn realized its intentions.

Reynyagn hit ground, body colliding with the ground as he was ripped off his hold, slamming into the dirt as the Elder Dragon flew back up in victory, having successfully toppled its first attacker.  Reynyagn tasted dirt as he stood up to watch it fly back up into the sky.


The druid commander moved quickly with his men through the decomposing palace, holding their bows with their quiver of corsha arrows swung around their back, each of the arrow-heads dipped in poison.  Their spy had placed a tracking device on Lord Freglak so that they could track him to the corridors.  And they were closing in on him.



The wind rushed by his face as Flek flung himself forward, grasping the next spike as the Elder Dragon Roared, scorching a hapless goblin clinging to one of the trees.  He had to stop this menace.  But even when he had the Watcher dwelling within him, Flek hadn’t thought that he would have been able to stop this thing.  Much less without his power.

He was now behind where the tips of its long ears ended.  Flek looked up as the Elder Dragon began another descent to destroy the palace.  He had to stop this thing.  Moving forward, he waited as the Elder Dragon neared the palace.  And then, releasing his grip on the dragon’s spike, he grabbed the ends of the ears with both ends and pulled—hard.

The Elder Dragon had not been expecting that.  Flek was jolted back as the Elder Dragon was suddenly forced upwards, cracking its head on a battlement, causing it to screech in pain.  Thinking on the fly, Flek moved his hands toward the right as hard as he could, causing the Elder Dragon to again smash into the palace, breaking through the glass into a hallway, now partially stunned by the sudden collisions.

Flek blinked as he shook his head, gaining focus just in time to see the Xavier Team skidding to a stop before him, before he suddenly realized the huge mistake he made.  The Elder Dragon opened its mouth, ready to roast all of its victims with its breath of flame.  Lord Freglak and the rest of the team threw themselves to the ground and to the side as, at the other end of the short hall, Flek noticed a group of goblin druids leaping out, shooting corsha arrows from their bows.

The ball of fire emitted from the Elder Dragon’s mouth missed its targets as it flew across them toward the goblin druid archers who had obviously not been expecting that.  The arrows passed through the flames.  And moments after the goblin archers were engulfed in flames, a volley of poisoned corsha arrows struck the Elder Dragon, one zipping into its nostrils while another pierced its eyes.

The Elder Dragon roared, slamming its head across the ceiling, causing plaster to rain down from it, as Flek leapt off, drawing his arjla corsha blades to finish the job.  But the deed was already done.  The Elder Dragon shook, its eyes glaring vehemently in its death throes, as it wrenched itself out of the hall, taking one last faltering flap with its wings, before its eyes rolled back and fell from the skies.

The Elder Dragon was dead.

Part CXVI: Realm in Chaos

Date: Kapton 22nd, 114 A.U.

The voyager ship of the Xavier Team descended to meet a city ravaged by war.

Lingering smoke still rose from the broken bombed-out buildings and trees in the city, flames still flickering within their hollows.  Dead bodies lay on the ground, corpses mutilated and stripped as they lay silent on the ground.  Bare trees encircled the palace which still stood, though slowly breaking down.  And at the other side of the city, a large black circle encircled the Mothertree which still stood, although worse for the wear. 

Reynyagn gravely surveyed the situation.  “The elves must have broken through quite recently,” he said.  “Keep your eyes peeled—they may still be around.  The palace seems like it’s still standing—we must make there quickly.”

Flek said nothing as he stood, silently surveying the city broken and battered down, slowly lowering his head in sadness.  He paused as the others began to move toward the palace.  And then, slowly, still shaken, he went on.


“Hail Lord Freglak.”  Freglak looked up, face still stricken, as his expression was eclipsed with a sudden shock and astonishment as his mouth dropped to see Reynyagn enter into the room, followed by Flek and a group of other beings, members of each of the races, along with some reptilian being that he didn’t recognize.

“Yo—you,” Lord Freglak stammered as his knees gave way, causing him to sit down.  “You…  You’re here.”

“We’re here,” Flek said softly, sensing the passion behind Freglak’s voice.  “And I…” His voice broke.  “I’ve seen the city,” he said, trying to keep back his pressing emotions.  “The city…  Those elves…  they-”

“It’s not the blasted elves that did this,” Freglak said, cursing, as he shook his head in vengeance.  “The wretched Jaine and his cohort of priests have waged this war against ourselves as the elves wait in the wings.  We’re ruined, Flek…  Our cause is lost…  Unless-”  He looked up to meet Flek’s gaze.  “Except that you’ve come now.  Why…  Why are you here?  Are the elves-”

“I fear that we are not here to bring much good tidings,” Reynyagn replied.  “Although, to confirm what you may have suspected, it is indeed the Xavier Team that stands before you.  We’ve come in search of the Golden Corsha Weapon of the Goblins, believing it to be crucial to resist the Emperor.  We have since seen the city, though, and…” Reynyagn paused.  “I cannot leave this city without doing something to help.”

“I know nothing of such a weapon,” Lord Freglak said, shaking his head.  “Likely Jaine, with his wealth of knowledge about the customs of the past, knows what you speak of, but he and I are sworn enemies as of now.  Your only chance to find it would be to break past his defenses and either find it among his stash or wrest any possible information from him.”  He looked up and there was a glimmer in his eyes.  “To break past his defenses…” he repeated.

“What are these defenses like?” Monty asked, stepping forward.  “As a means of introduction, my name is Monty, a former spy for Governor Astrid in Araelia.  I’m not part of the Xavier Team, but I know much about getting past defenses.  What is the situation like?”

“You…  You’d better sit down,” Lord Freglak said slowly.  “I will explain to you the current situation, but…  Much backstory is needed.  And I believe that will mean explaining to you the whole background of the war so that you might better understand our straits.  And the dismal situation that we now find ourselves in.”



“Your squadron goes out to battle in two hours,” High-Priest Jaine, Prophet of the Mothertree, commanded.  “Your mission is to be of absolute stealth—to assassinate Lord Freglak while the Elder Dragon provides his distraction atop the fortress.  Freglak will find himself flanked by the two sides, and he cannot escape both of them.  This battle will end today.”

“Yes, sir,” the commander replied.  “My men will undertake the mission to assassinate the Lord-Protector.  Have you discovered any information yet about the ship that landed today?”

“Whoever came out of the ship that landed outside Freglak’s palace is likely of no importance to us,” Jaine replied.  “The Mother-Tree will tell me if they are.  They are likely some remaining commanders in Freglak’s army that are returning in his desperate attempt to save himself as he realizes that his end is approaching.  Pay no heed to them.  Freglak will meet his end today.”



“So, in other words, basically all our routes of salvation have been exhausted.”

“Aye,” Freglak said, slumped back against his chair.  “It’s over.  There is no more lingering doubt in the minds of the public as to the power of the Mothertree.  It survived my entire barrage of bombs.  The Elder-Dragon has turned against us for the last time, we can’t breach his defenses, and Major Erklen has deserted.  Before you showed up, we were merely awaiting the final strike.”

“No escape routes?” Flek asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Bah, the elves have all but surrounded the city,” Freglak spat.  “Although they are trying to fool me otherwise, their prancing around minor targets are merely a façade.  They’re waiting for us to destroy ourselves and then they’ll crush us.  They are still a day’s journey away from the city, but they have this city all but in our hands.  There is no escape.”

“Yes, we narrowly slipped past the elven defenses to get here,” Reynyagn replied.  “The choices are laid out on the table.  What is your choice?”

“Excuse me?”

“Will you sit here and wait for them to deal the killing strike?” Reynyagn asked.  “Or shall we let loose one last assault on the enemy, where the Xavier Team will lead your forces to battle in one last effort to break past the priests’ defenses and wrest the information about the Golden Corsha Weapon out of Jaine?”

A gleam sprung up in Freglak’s eyes.  “My military is all but abandoned me to the enemy or waits here in fear,” he replied.  “The gas for our machines is all but one else.  Our defenses are but a broken piece of wood, and our food is running out.  But we will fight.”  He stood up, clenching his sword pommel in his fist.  “Take full control of my army, Reynyagn of the Xavier Team.  Command them however you see fit, and I will do all that I can to aid you.  We will let loose one final assault upon the priest’s defenses and exploit all their weaknesses that we can.  Or I will die doing so.”

There was a roar behind them, and red flames splashed across the windows in the room before a green spiked tail smashed against them, flinging glass everywhere.

“And so the final battle begins,” Number 994 replied.  And lightning crackled across his fingertips.

Part CXV: Escalation

Date: Kapton 21st, 114 A.U.

“Your role is crucial to our survival—do you realize that?” Lord Freglak asked as they quickly walked down the hall.

“Yes, sir—our survival dependent upon my role is, my lord,” Flindle replied.  “The Elder Dragon is our ace in the hole, it is!”

“But it is an untrustworthy ace,” Lord Freglak snapped.  “Listen, Flindle.  The past couple battles you have continued to lose control of the Elder Dragon.  If it continues to break free from your control, we’re finished.”  He turned to stare at Flindle.  “Are you positive that you’ll be able to control it this time?  I don’t know why you were able to control it so well at first and why now you seem unable to control it, but we can only use it if you can assure me that you will be able to keep it under bonds.”

Flindle shuffled his feet.  “Promises, I cannot make sir—the promise I can’t make!” he said mournfully.  “If only I could then I would, but my would does not make the could possible!  I don’t know why he is continually able to escape me!  It’s like some new spirit enters into him and he becomes altogether too violent and devious to thwart my wishes!  I can’t promise anything anymore.”

Lord Freglak sighed as he stopped to lean against a window.  “The whole thing’s crashing in,” he murmured.  “Jaine’s troops are being bested, but he is far too resilient.  He has been preparing for this for longer than I have and has built an excellent defensive structure around and with the Mothertree.  We need more time to be able to crack his defense open—and we don’t have time.  We have virtually no real defenses against the elves—and the elves are seizing upon that opportunity like a dog does with a bone.  We need to crack open Jaine’s position now in order to turn around quickly enough to stop the advance of the elves.  A stalemate with Jaine means checkmate for the elves.”

“What are you saying, sir?”

Freglak sighed again.  “I’m saying…” he pursed his lips.  “We can’t continue with the status quo any longer.  We’re going to have to throw it all in this time.  Our next attack on his defenses is at noon today.  You’re going to lead the troops into battle on the Elder Dragon.  Our scientists have supplied a vial of liquid that will be enough to knock out the Elder Dragon and will give it to you in a needle.  If the Elder Dragon breaks free of your control, use it to knock him out.  We cannot let it turn against our own troops.  Everything is crucial at this point, Flindle.  One little mistake will doom us to the elves, while one breakthrough will decimate Jaine.  Do you understand?”

Flindle shifted his weight uncomfortably, realizing how much weight now rested on his position.  “Yes, sir.”


The Elder Dragon is moving from his cage.  The warriors of Lord Freglak prepare for another assault…

“I will prepare my own defenses,” High-Priest Jaine mumbled as his whispers were snatched away into the darkness.  “Will the Elder Dragon prevail?”

The Elder Dragon will prevail over the ones who now hold it captive.  Today, I will make it clear to the armies of Lord Freglak who truly holds the reins of the Elder Dragon and show them the power that I will unleash upon their forces.  The Elder Dragon will turn against them once and for all this day.  And I will make sure that they are crippled from ever assaulting us likewise again.

 

Flindle came down fast, holding onto the Elder Dragon for dear life as he controlled him, moving to the side to avoid a barrage of bullets before the Elder Dragon spat fire upon the sacred bark of the Mothertree, burning a goblin in the process, before cycling up to come down once more upon the tree, trying to create a large enough diversion to let the troops break in on the eastern side where they now attempted to swing up onto the Mothertree and so establish a foothold.

“Quicker,” Flindle whispered as they came down once more, Flindle ducking as bullets sailed past, loosening his grip on the Elder Dragon’s reins for just one moment.  And in the same moment, the Elder Dragon moved.  Straining past the chains, the Elder Dragon flung itself to the side, rolling, as Flindle looked up just in time to see the brown branch of the tree flying toward him. 

Pain smacked Flindle’s face as the reins were wrenched from his control, his tongue tasting the cool moss, as his body wrapped around the branch before falling, stumbling and rolling, before jumping up as bullets whizzed past him.  The Elder Dragon was loose.  And it had finally broken free.

He had to stop it.

Ducking and moving forward, Flindle unsheathed his corsha blade, using it to help him stop the bullets as he moved closer to the Elder Dragon who was now flying upwards, away from the tangled branches of the Mothertree.  Just a bit closer—if he could just catch up in time to inject the chemicals that he’d been given-

Flindle lurched forward as something grabbed at his foot.  Flindle spun around to see the branch of the Mothertree morphing, smaller branches shooting out of it as it wrapped onto his knees and wrists.  Flindle gave a cry but it was too late as he saw the Elder Dragon cycling down, fire bursting out of its mouth.  And Flindle’s vision was filled with a fiery explosion.



“We’re finished.”  Major Erklen slammed the papers on the table bitterly as he shook its head.  “It’s done.  We’re doomed.”

Freglak slowly closed his eyes.  “I…” he said quietly, and he shook his head, wiping his eyes.  “I had come…  I had come to bond with Flindle…”

“Blast it,” Major Erklen snapped and cursed.  “To be so close…  what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Freglak said quietly.  “But it’s cut off our last reasonable attempt to stop Jaine.”

“Reasonable attempt?” Major Erklen said, looking up.

“We only have one more chance,” Freglak said quietly as his gaze met Erklen’s.  “One last-ditch attempt to smoke Jaine out of his hole before the elves break in.”

“You don’t mean-”

“We have no other choice.  Bring out the bombers.”


The bombs began dropping as the sun set.  Explosions that tore goblins asunder, breaking bones, and scattering dirt.  A turmoil of fire rained down on the Mothertree as the deluge of destruction was dropped upon the Mothertree, completely surprising Jaine’s forces.  For fifteen minutes before Jaine’s forces could bring enough anti-aircraft missiles to the fight, the goblins bombed the Mothertree, covering it in a field of smoke.  Slowly, the smoke began to dissipate as all goblins eyes were turned toward the Mothertree, to see if their hero, their god, had withstood the final solution of their goblin lord.

Slowly, the smoke lifted.  The tree was torn in many places.  The moss was ripped off, and lingering embers still cooled in the Mothertree.  But the Mothertree still stood.  Suspending all belief, the bombs only dealt minor flesh wounds to the tree, failing to break in to the root belief.

And at that moment, fear clenched Lord Freglak’s heart.  And Freglak finally believed in the Mothertree.

Part CXIV: Layers of Deceit

Date: Kapton 18th, 114 A.U.

Ranvier, the ambassador of the auggers, knew that he had failed.  He had started off with such a glorious purpose—such an important mantle to take hold of.  And he had fallen captive to the first enemies that he met.

“I should have been more ready…” he murmured.  But it was all too late now.  They had come unto him twice already looking for info and intel on who and what he was, but he had refused it.  He supposed that it would only be a short time until they began to torture him and he’d have to see how much he could withstand before he caved. 

Ranvier pursed his lips.  It wasn’t supposed to happen this way!  But it had.  And he had failed as an ambassador.

“The augger has been quite stubborn to release his information on what he is and why he is here,” Unyihi Garum said.  “I was planning on torturing him tomorrow in order to gain intel.”

Jaigran narrowed his eyes, thinking.  “He’s our first specimen,” he said.  “You do realize, Unyihi, that this is the first augger we’ve been able to meet?  The only other one that we know of in existence is the one with the Xavier Team.  We can’t be too quick to harm him.”

“Then what do you suggest, zar?”

Jaigran paused, and then a smile flooded across his face.  “A trick,” he finally said.  “A masquerade and a play put in front of him, and with him as an actor.  We will take a group of elves and stage a breakout to free him.  And after he thinks he’s freed, we’ll see what information we can coax out of him then.”



Ranvier nervously looked from side to side as the sleek ship moved quickly through the sky.  Just minutes before he had been whisked away from the giant elven ship which his rescuers had termed ‘the Mothership.’  His rescuers had managed to break into his prison and free him most expediently, quickly killing the guards in their way before rushing him out just as the elves started to wake up to what was going on. 

Ranvier watched as the ship dodged the bullets, but the elven response from the Mothership seemed sub-par to what he would have expected and they kept going as Ranvier gradually relaxed.  Two elves, an orc, and a dwarf manned the ship.

“Wow…” Ranvier said, finally getting a chance to talk.  “I don’t know who you are…  But I owe you a lot.”

“We’re part of the Elven Resistance,” the dwarf said.  “A group of us banding together to resist the Imperial Elves and their plan to dominate Arquenia.  Our spies discovered your presence, and we couldn’t let you be captured by them.  Although, to be honest, I’ve never seen your kind before.”

“My kind…  my kind is isolated from most of the world,” Ranvier said slowly as he exhaled.  “I guess we have a lot to discuss.”



“Greetings,” Jaigran said, shaking Ranvier’s hand even while he sweated.  “I am Nordheim, the leader of our resistance group.”

“Another elf?” Ranvier asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Unfortunately, many of the other races have been driven into hiding due to Emperor Jaigran’s horrific policies,” Jaigran/Nordheim replied as he masked his true emotions.  “There are not many of them to be found.  And so us elves have had to rise up against the murderous intentions of the rest of our kind.”

“Well, that’s understood,” Ranvier said wearily as he sat down.

“Well,” Jaigran/Nordheim said.  “I must confess that although I commissioned the party to rescue you, I don’t know much anything at all about you or your kind.”

“My name…  My name is Ranvier,” Ranvier replied.  “I’m an augger, the seventh race of Arquenia.”

“The seventh race?” Jaigran/Nordheim asked, feigning astonishment.

“We were almost exterminated centuries ago,” Ranvier said.  “Most of us who lived escaped to an island out in the middle of the ocean where the Council of Arquenia used to meet.  We dwell there now.”

“The Council of Arquenia…” Jaigran/Nordheim mused.  “Strange—I’ve never heard of it.”

“Most likely wiped out of the history books like everything else that the Augger-slayers did,” Ranvier said.  “I could go into it more now, but it used to be where representatives of all the races of Arquenia would come to meet and discuss politics and world affairs.”

“I see,” Jaigran/Nordheim said, nodding. “We can delve into that later.  I must confess though, that it’s somewhat hard to adjust to this new sight.  To think that there was a seventh race all this time and that we’ve just been missing it!”

Ranvier nodded solemnly.  “It’s been a tragedy to the augger people to be driven out,” he replied.  “We would have come back…  But before we could, we heard of the elven Upheaval and the tumult that has caused.”

“Yes,” Jaigran/Nordheim replied.  “However, that raises another question…  Why are you back?”

“I have come to seek an answer to the fluctuation of the Noon-Beam,” Ranvier replied.  “Since I see from your face that you’ve never heard of it, let me explain…”



“You catching it?”

“Every word of it,” Unyihi Garum replied as he looked at the stream of video coming in from the secret cameras placed all around the room that Jaigran and Ranvier were in.  “We’ll have everything to decipher.”

“Excellent,” the Watcher replied, nodding.  “The augger has fallen completely into our trap.  We will take all the information that we need from him, and then…  Then—well—we will have plans for our captive augger.”

I apologize for the lack of posting on Saturdays...  I have all these parts waiting to be posted, but I keep forgetting to post them!  =P

Part CXIII: Walking in Circles

Date: Kapton 15th, 114 A.U.

“I am a bit perplexed by your findings,” Iraina said, raising an eyebrow.  “Despite the extreme lack of evidence, you want me to take so bold a step?”

“From the meager evidence we’ve been able to gather, we’re running out of time,” Oldin replied.  “They’re deadlines are coming up and we’re hapless to stop them.  We need to get all of your available men on this now.  In addition to this, I’ve been getting dangerous reports that they have started to make movement out of Araelia toward the outside.  Have you been posting security there?”

“I’ve posted heavy security in the outside tunnels since we last talked and have done checks on all the corridors,” Iraina responded, raising his eyebrow.  “From our end, the tunnels are completely safe.  We have plenty of scanners and high-tech equipment to make sure that there are no trespassers.”

“Either way, we need more men on the field,” Oldin said.  “We don’t have enough manpower to staff this operation.  We’re getting the run-around by the elven terrorist group, and all of our agents that have gotten close enough are dying.”

“I can try to help, but we aren’t exactly high on man-count either,” Iraina said.  “Remember that ex-Governor Astrid is still at large, wherever she is hiding among the dwarven cities.  She’s wracked terrible damage on us from her betrayal.  We haven’t gotten any word from the Xavier Team since, and most of my men are out searching for her.”

“The dwarven government is still trying to find her,” Oldin said.  “From what I’ve heard, they’re narrowing down on her, though.  They should be able to track her down and capture her within the next month.”

“Well, at least we have some good news,” Iraina replied.  “Now have you gotten any more word yet on your investigation involving James McDonnell and his connection to the C-Watches?”

“No,” Oldin said.  “We’ve still been tracking him though, and it’s from our spies on him that we’ve been getting word that he might have found a way to access the outside tunnels.  We haven’t gotten complete confirmation yet, though, although I’m sure that we’ll be getting confirmation soon.  I’ll need some warrants from you, though.  Once we’ve verified that he’s found a way in, I’ll need warrants to allow my men to do a high-level search of those tunnels to figure out what they’re doing.”

Iraina’s eyes flickered and he paused.  “Very well,” he finally said.  “I’ll send that task off to one of my underlings, but I can’t promise how quickly they’ll be able to get it done.  All the paperwork that needs to be done in the bureaucracy and such.”

Oldin cocked his head.  “Bureaucracy was never a problem before,” he said, somewhat astonished.  “This is for an FRI investigation—what do you mean we’re going to have to wait to get warrants?  We need to stop this elven terrorist group before the deadline.”

“Much has changed since before,” Iraina said, pursing his lips as he fidgeted.  “Those warrants were issued during Astrid’s time—were they not?  There’s been an unfortunate buildup of bureaucracy since then, and I haven’t been able to stop that.”

Oldin leaned in.  “What are you talking about?” he asked, very confused.  “There hasn’t been that big of a build-up, has there.”

“Oh, probably not,” Iraina said, standing up and suddenly taking on a different tone of voice.  “I just don’t want you to expect them tomorrow, that is.  It might take a couple of days, alright?”

“Alright…” Oldin said, suddenly mystified by Iraina’s sudden change of tone.  “Just get them to me as soon as possible, alright?”

“It’s already done.”



“I need you to get more men following McDonnell,” Oldin snapped as he re-entered headquarters.  “I’m getting warrants made from the Governor for permission to get into the outside tunnels.  Make sure that he actually has procured access into them, and then send out a full search party into them.  Don’t get my permission first.  We can’t waste time anymore.”

“Yes, sir,” his second in command replied.  “What should they be looking for?”

“Anything and everything,” Oldin replied.  “Iraina says that all his searches have come up empty for anything in the outside tunnels.  The elven terrorists are thwarting him somehow.  And we dearly need to figure out how.”



“The plan has nearly reached its completion,” the messenger said to the man shrouded in darkness.  “All of the equipment has been set up in the tunnels for launch day.  A few final connections need to be made, though, so that they’ll be triggered upon command.  We’ll still need to work on it for another week until its finished.”

“Very good,” the man shrouded in darkness replied.  “I’ll be sure to let the Emperor know about this development.  And what of the C-Watches?  Are they according to plan?”

“They’ve tested a few of them out, nicely handling some of Oldin’s most annoying agents in the process,” the messenger said, grinning.  “They’ll work magnificently on launch date, clearing the way for the awakening of a new era in Arquenia.”

“I’ve been hearing reports that Oldin’s beginning to get suspicious,” the man shrouded in darkness replied.  “He knows too much about McDonnell.  McDonnell has been too sloppy in his work as of late.  Dispose of him silently.”

“Yes, sir.  Any other commands?”

“No.  I’ll alert the Emperor of our findings so that he’ll be ready to accomplish his part on the grand finale of this magnificently executed plan.  The work is nearly finished.”

“Do we have a date yet?”

“For the launch date?  Oh, I think we do,” the man shrouded in darkness said.  “Pass it on to your executives.  I’ve already set everything else in motion.  Kapton 30th will be the Launch Date.  On Kapton 30th, our plan will be brought to fruition.  And Araelia will be ours.”

Part CXII: Shadows of the Past

Date: Kapton 18th, 114 A.U.

Flek stared out the window as the earth rushed by below as they flew over the plains.  After months of traveling, he was finally returning to his homeland and to Lord Freglak.  So much had happened since he’d last smelled the pine scent of the trees and felt their rough bark.  But as much as Flek wanted to see the sights again, a cold pit of dread was forming within him.

So much had happened.  He had gained much.  And he had lost his power.
Flek knew that he couldn’t have his power anymore.  He had been a fool to make the deal with the spirit in the first place, and his deal had nearly destroyed the Xavier Team.  And yet, as he anticipated the re-entrance into the fortress and into the courts of Lord Freglak, it bothered Flek how much of his renown and prestige among them was built on empty vanities and nothing.

Or even how much his own entrance into the Xavier Team—as the Warrior—had been build no such vain promises.  Promises that he only kept by the wretched being that had lived inside of him.  All gone.

He turned at the noise to see Astrid entering the chamber that he was in.  Glancing at her, he turned to look back out the window, watching as the earth rushed by.

  “Hey,” he finally said to Astrid as she walked next to him.

“Hi, Flek,” Astrid said, and paused for a couple minutes as they just watched the earth rushed by outside.  And then she again spoke.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time here, haven’t you?”

Flek shrugged, not exactly paying attention to how much time he’d spent here since they’d left.  “I guess; why?”

“I know how you feel,” Astrid said, sitting down next to him and Flek glanced at her briefly.  What did she mean?

“What do you mean?” Flek asked, giving voice to his question.

“You know how I murdered the man in Araelia,” Astrid said after taking a deep breath. 

“You might have mentioned it before,” Flek said.  “I have a vague recollection, but no real memory of it, though.”

“I became involved with a government espionage program against a group of, well, I don’t know what they were doing—but they were terrorists of some sort,” Astrid replied.  “And I got trapped as a spy for the government whom the terrorists trusted.”  She licked her lips.  “Long story short, I found myself in the position where I either helped them to murder one of my patients at the hospital, or they’d kill me.  And so I chose to murder my patient.”  She bit her lip.  “It’s taken me a long time to get over it, mostly with Monty’s help.  But listen, Flek.  Don’t let your guilt consume you.  It nearly drove me to suicide…  You have—you have to figure out what you want to live for.  And why.”



“So when did you finally decide?” Jroldin asked, still shocked that Number 994 hadn’t originally been on their side at the creation of the Xavier Team.

“I…  I can’t hang my decision on one moment,” Number 994 replied.  He had just been explaining to them the truth about his loyalties.  “Up until the Citadel of Tzel-Maret, I was still looking and waiting for the right opportunity to betray you, but then…”  He paused.  “Things seemed to change after we joined up with Augger and began our long trip back.  We spent a long time together in our slow journeying, and…”  He pursed his lips.  “I broke the rules of the orcs.  And I committed my course.  I was still worried, though…  The prophesy of Xavier worried me that I might end up being the traitor…”

“But thankfully you weren’t, and it all turned out relatively well,” Zarien said, concluding.  “Though I must say that I can’t believe that you still hated my gut all that time and still managed to keep your self-control.”

“Rule Number 52: Never betray your emotions.  Betray your emotions and you betray your whole plan,” Number 994 said, raising an eyebrow.  “I lived by the rules.  I still do in many ways…  It’s hard to break old habits.”

           

“We should be arriving at the goblin city within the next five days,” Reynyagn said, gesturing at the map. 

“Yes; we’ve been making good time so far,” Augger replied.  “What should we be preparing for?”

“Prepare for anything,” Reynyagn said, pursing his lips.  “When I last left, Lord Freglak had been beginning a war with the Emperor.  While I hope that the strength that I saw in the goblins would be enough to keep back their forces, the Emperor is powerful.  The goblin empire may very well be mostly in ruins.  We need to be prepared to fight off the goblins, and, if their empire still exists, to deal with tensions between the goblin priests and Freglak.”

“These priests intrigue me…” Augger said.  “You said they worshipped a tree?”

“An abnormally large tree, but yes,” Reynyagn said.

“Interesting…” Augger said, shutting his eyes.  “I seem…  I feel like I have an inkling in my memories…  Some hidden thought and memory of my ancestors that bears some resemblance to this…  Something that may lend its insight on why the goblins worship the tree…  But I can’t remember it.”

“We still have a lot of time left before us before we arrive,” Reynyagn reminded him.  “We’ll have time.”

“We’ll have time enough,” Augger agreed.  “We only have so much time though before we can push off the final confrontation with the Emperor.  We must move fast.”

Part CXI: The Watcher’s Plan

Date: Kapton 17th, 114 A.U.

“The Xavier Team has two weapons to our three,” the Watcher said as he paced.  “Not only are they gaining stronger in power, but the two weapons are essential to our plan.”

“I’m all ears to your plan,” Emperor Jaigran said as he lounged on his throne.  “Most all of the ships have been outfitted.  They’re ready for takeoff.”

“We need to get their two weapons and claim the other two first,” the Watcher snapped.  “Don’t act like your part is done already!”

“But it is,” Jaigran said, a smirk on his face.  “My job was to oversee our ships being prepared to enter into outer space.  Your job was to find the Seven Golden Corsha Weapons.”

“And I have done it—for the most part, that is,” the Watcher snapped.  “The weapon of the goblins is practically in my hands.  And the one the auggers have likely is in the Council Chamber of Arquenia—which is where we’ll be heading anyways once the other weapons are claimed.”

“So what’s your point?”

“We need bait,” the Watcher hissed.  “If the Xavier Team knew that we needed all seven Golden Corsha Weapons to wrack the final and devastating end of our plan, they would hide themselves and the weapons where it is nigh impossible to find them.  They already are hiding from us.  We need to find some way to draw them out so that we can take their Golden Corsha Weapons if we have any chance of survival.”

“My plan has nearly hit its fruition in the human’s chief city of Araelia,” Jaigran said.  “Within a couple weeks, the city should be ours.  No doubt we can find worthy members there to act as bait.  Ex-Governor Astrid for example?  I much look forward to a chance to meet her again…”

“You can wrack whatever personal revenge you want to on your previous Xavier Team member in due time,” the Watcher snapped.  “For now, we must make sure that all your calculations are correct.  Where is Unyihi Garum?”

“He’s waiting,” Jaigran said, pushing a button to page him.  A couple moments later, Unyihi Garum entered the room.

“I am here, zar,” Unyihi Garum said, bowing respectfully.  “You wish to hear my report?”

“Yes,” the Watcher said.  “What is the progression of the tests?”

“The ships will withstand Outer Space, and we have tested our food production thoroughly to make sure that they will still work in the far reaches of the galaxy, at least until we arrive at the other planet you mentioned,” Unyihi Garum said.  “The Mothership is still being outfitted, but it should be finished in around a week.  All of the major upgrades have been done and what is left is minor, though quite essential, tinkering and work inside the ship.”

“I see,” the Watcher snapped.  “You are quite positive that all of the tests worked.”

“I am staking my own life on it,” Unyihi said.  “We will be secure.”  He paused.  “There is much, though, that you have not yet informed me of.”

“Such as?”

“Why are we so quick to leave Arquenia,” Unyihi rumbled.  “Why are we deserting this planet and moving to a new one instead of impressing our domain over this one.  If your final form is as powerful as you have said, why do we not use it to crush them?  You have promised answers, but always later.”

A cruel smile played across the Watcher’s face.  “I suppose it is due time that you learned the full truth,” he said standing up.  “Believe me, Unyihi.  My final form is enough to devastate the rebels, but we cannot hunt down every one of them.  There will always be those hiding, those whom it is impossible to stamp out by ordinary means.  And so I have gone for the un-ordinary. 

“I am the Watcher.  The one appointed to be the guardian of Arquenia.  I have immense power over Arquenia—far more than anyone else could dream of.  I am the one who keeps the world running.  I keep Arquenia in its constant orbit around the sun.  And without it, I tell you, it will truly fail.

“Have you not noticed the unusual days—the unheard of temperatures and climates?  The world is already beginning to destruct since I have left my chamber.  The planet is falling apart, but I am still holding it together.”

A chill ran down Unyihi Garum’s spine as he suddenly realized what the plan is.  “You-” he began, and then he stopped.  “You mean…”

“Yes,” the Watcher said.  “When we leave, Arquenia will no longer be able to keep moving.  Once we leave, the planet will spin helplessly out of order until it finally is drawn in by the gravity and is set for a collision course with the sun.  We will leave.  And Arquenia will be consumed with flames until the whole world is perished.  And so we will destroy Arquenia.”


“You never told me he was that powerful!” Unyihi Garum hissed, speaking quickly to Jaigran as they walked down the corridor.  “He has the power to destroy the world, has a final form that he claims is utterly devastating and yet—”

“And yet… what, Unyihi?”

“And yet you still trust him!” Unyihi Garum snapped.  “What prevents him from turning on you once you have given him all this power and making himself the leader!”

“The situation is more complicated than you may think,” Jaigran said.  “Believe me, Unyihi, I have considered this.  I would not be surprised if he ends up turning on me.”

“Then why do you still trust him?” Unyihi snapped.  “What will you do to stop him once he has attained such power?”

“The Golden Weapons are powerful—more powerful than even the Watcher seems to realize,” Jaigran replied.  “I have tested their power.  I will indeed unleash him once I have gained all seven of the weapons because of how essential he is to my plan.  But I have also set up a plan to stop him from betraying me.  Believe me, Unyihi.  I have thought of everything.  The rebels will be consumed in flames.  And we will move on to victory.”