BOOK 3 - CHAP 1 - The Fall of Glory

Gertrude was drawn out of her mortified trance when Payden Raynsford extended his arm to her. The poor man, still so weakened from his injuries, had managed to shove down his own pain and suffering to be solicitous, and the gesture tapped a stream of compassion in her heart. She took his arm as if it was she who meant to give him support. She only dared to look at Curt—or was it Cursha, now?—when he spoke back to Payden:

“Ah, please help yourselves to any place you like,” said the man she had thought she knew, sweeping his arm to encompass the gracious palace around them. “Mi casa es tu casa, my friends.” His smile was too wide and too pleased.

Gertrude lowered her head and walked away with Payden; they supported each other like a pair of cripples—Payden in his weakened state and Gertrude with her weakened heart. She felt her humiliation return as they climbed a glossy white stairway, plucking at her soul like a collection of barbs. “I should have known,” she whispered to Payden. “It was all too good to be true.”

He opened his mouth—to say something conciliatory, no doubt—but she pressed her pale lips together and shook her head. “Please,” she said in husky voice, “don’t say anything.” She thought she would die if he said anything. The feeling was like turning to stone.

They arrived in a corridor where fragrant wooden doors carved with birds and beasts and inlayed lattices opened into plush rooms with velvet drapes over leaded window panes. Despite the furnishings, the rooms had a decidedly cold and abandoned feel. Gertrude let go of Payden’s arm and walked to the window to stare down at the wind-stirred grasses of the desolate plain. “Oh, Andy…” she said so quietly she barely heard herself. What had she done? Would she ever see her brother again?

She turned and looked slowly at Payden’s brooding face. “Well, Mr. Raynsford,” she said carefully, clutching her hands together and pressing them over her stomach as if to smooth the rough pleats of her soul. “I suppose we must learn as much as we can.” She paused and looked in his eyes. “What do you suppose… Why do you suppose we’re really here?”

* * *


Still chuckling to himself, Cursha strolled out of the enchanted castle and onto the windswept face of his little island. Everything had gone brilliantly—at least, until those pirates cast their filthy little shadows on his pristine plans. But no matter, they were out of the picture now, hopefully for good—ah, the humans were like putty in his hands!—and everything was going swimmingly.

Speaking of swimming, he could hear the ocean calling his name, whispering to him on the salty breeze. He turned to make his way down a sandy path towards the coastline. Not all the baths in the world had made him feel quite right, and the few short dips he’d stolen while aboard that ridiculous sloopy thing had only wet his appetite. He was positively chapped. Some sea lettuce and a bit of salty laver would be just the thing, too. He relaxed, letting the illusion of his human form melt away, letting his fins loosen from their tightly coiled positions, and he sighed.

It was hard work, being as clever as he was, as talented, as good-looking and destined for greatness—not to mention, it was often thankless work—but now he could almost hear the sonorous notes of his mounting success on the playful splash of the waves and the thin shrieks of the jealous sea birds. Destiny was revolving around him the way moons and star dust revolve around planets. He paused, grasped and un-grasped his scaled, webbed hand as a grin played across his inhuman features—the scales once a bright green now dulled to something mossy and muddy, his throat and chest moon-pale; though his eyes, his eyes were still hazel: the same eyes as Curt of Ursha, that dear character who had carried him so far. Eyes, after all, never lie, and it is always best to use them.

“Some, like that blundering fool, Yassun, go after what they want like a demolitionist.” He said this to the air, to the waves, to himself—he often talked to himself, it was the only way to be assured of intelligent conversation. “But I… I work like a surgeon!” He grasped his fist again and stared eagerly at the rolling waves, shimmering in the ripe golden light of late morning. “Yes, none will outmaneuver me, and now—nothing can stop me—!”

His strolling foot crunched down into something crisp and splintering. Something that looked like a ribcage—what was definitely made of bones—clung to his leg like a bramble bush as he lifted his foot and shook it free. “Eww!” He recoiled and stared at the bones—there were a few others scattered around: here a femur, there a skull that still bore the remnants of hair and beard. “Where did this come from!?” he demanded, and crouched to scrutinize the remains more carefully, unwilling to touch them, and thankful that his sense of smell was not his strongest, used as it was to little more work than filtering sea water.

The last time he was here, there had certainly not been any bones. In the porcelain glow of sunlight, he could make out thick gouges in the bones, as from large, razor-sharp teeth. He frowned and all the mirth went out in him like a candle snuffed in the sea. “Oh, this just isn’t fair…!”

Maybe he shouldn’t have used so much energy showing off with that castle hallucination.

* * *


Sam woke up before everyone else. Chickens were clucking outside and the light in the window was fragile and new. He was clean and bundled in a soft bed that was as real as beds he’d seen in other people’s houses before. He wondered what was going to happen next.

Too impatient to lie in the bed and find out, he roused himself and slipped his dirty old jacket—now definitely dry—over his night shirt, stepped into his tattered boots and walked downstairs, leaving Elijah and Frankie sleeping in their beds. The old woman who ran the joint greeted him, and he her. “Gots anything ta eat around ‘ere?” he asked her.

She brought him a bowl of porridge, nice and hot—he couldn’t ever remember having porridge when it was still hot—and he carried it to the window. He stood watching the fisher folk and stuffing spoonfuls of porridge into his mouth. The man who might have been running the town—Kallend, his name might have been—was outside talking to a group of various townsfolk, a few red-faced men, a few women in fluttering aprons. It looked like they were all having an argument.

Sam put his bowl of porridge down and walked outside to hear what it was about. The streets were mostly dirt and the houses looked like toy houses in the morning light.

“Well now, this is a mystery indeed,” Kallend was saying, scratching his head beneath his hat.

“I’m telling you, we’ve got a thief in town, Marshall!” One of the women insisted. “I never mistake my accounts, and I tell you I’m no less than five whole sovereigns in the pink!”

At the word ‘thief,’ Sam instinctually crouched down behind a stack of barrels. He hadn’t stolen anything yet that he could reckon, but maybe he’d gone sleep-stealing. He didn’t think so, but you never know.

Kallend sighed. “Yes, and everyone else is coming up short too; I know, Mrs. Rathbone.”

The small crowd turned and parted for a sun-browned peanut of a man with a lantern jaw and stiff white hair.

“Mr. Arner,” exclaimed the marshal, “don’t tell me you’ve been robbed, too!”

Arner nodded, “I surely have been,” and extended a palm whereon rested an acorn, a pebble and a pumpkin seed. “I put these jewels of mine in a special pouch, locked in a special chest,” said the stoic old fisherman, “but when I checked ‘em this morning, this was all I found.”

“Why!” gasped Mrs. Rathbone, “I do believe I found some wood chips in my till that I couldn’t explain!”

“And I found these old bottle caps!” a man added, showing the evidence.

“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” Marshal Kallend shook his head and looked at Arner. “Wait, did you say your jewels? What jewels?”

“Them jewels that fancy man gave me for me sloop, the Sylph.”

“He gave you—” Kallend trailed off, pointing at Arner’s handful of worthless scraps. He slowly turned, taking in the bewildered expressions of the shopkeepers. “Why, that man bought something from all of you, didn’t he?” He took off his hat in shock. “But ol’ Cloud would never be party to such a trick, if indeed a trick it be.”

“Who could that man have been, Marshal? And how could he have stolen back money he paid us—after sailin’ away, no less?” Mrs. Rathbone demanded. “I thought there was something funny and foreign about him. Though that young lady, his ward, seemed nice enough.”

Sam, no longer fearful that he was the culprit, stepped out of hiding. “Maybe he were a fairy,” the boy suggested. “I ‘eard that faeries do things like that—leavin’ little faerie trinkets in place o’ the things they steals.”

The adults looked at him in surprise, unawares that they’d had an eavesdropper. Marshal Kallend frowned and looked at the sea. “I don’t know how to explain it, but one thing is sure. There’s a foul mystery afoot, and our poor Cloud may be in danger!”

“Get those ladders out of my sight!” Yassun the Zealous ordered the greater ta’kun who sped by with the ladders they had dragged along from the back of their line. Finally it would be time to use them as they were about to assault the last bastion of Fort Glory’s defenses.

“What are you lesser bowmen still doing down here!? Get onto the buildings and fire at will!” He continued to order the ta’kun around him. The largest of them relayed everything while the matron kept her keen lizard eyes out for any who looked like they were slacking. Yassun’s commands were mostly redundant, all of the ta’kun knew there place and time in this assault.

“Greater ta’kun to the front!” Yassun yelled before looking behind him. Kylea was out on the street, still in the shadow of the building with the grocery shop and guarded by his ta’kun. He narrowed his gaze on hers and let the edge of his lip twitch in anger.

“Shields! Where are my shields!?” He bellowed with menace. Quickly enough several greater ta’kun carrying large metal shields covered in their trademark black substance appeared in sight and were ready to take their position as Yassun was about ready for their assault to commence in full force. Yet he was unaware of a sharp shooter who had taken position on the keep’s wall and had at that very moment trained his rifle on him.



“So, tell me Simon, what is up with that uniform?” Frederic asked his friend after Simon had guided the six of them out of the courtyard and into the barracks.
“I suppose you could say I’m an honorary member of King Dorian’s legion.” Simon said with a big grin on his face.
“We can’t have you join the army!” McVogh objected, “Not now, we’ve got better things to do than have you die because some putz in a jacket with some stripes telling you to charge to your death!” He bantered.
“Talking of which, aren’t those lieutenant stripes on yours?” Richard remarked.
“Have I said ‘honorary’ yet? The King was pretty excited, you should have seen it.” Simon tried to explain.
“Honorary schmonorary! Soldiers die, stupid.” McVogh commented.
“Wait a minute; you spoke with King Dorian?” Frederic wanted to know.
“That’s right. And his staff made it clear I just get to wear the jacket, not command anyone, or get to take commands either. It is a sign of gratitude, guys!”
“Gratitude? For what?” McVogh sneered.
“For breaking into the palace, I guess…” Simon said, though obviously the others now wanted to know the finer points behind his honorary promotion to a lieutenant of the legion.

As the four friends continued their banter Andreas stood by the door and watched to see if he could catch a glimpse of the women he could overhear talking about his sister earlier. If only Frederic hadn’t held him back from walking away from them so he could have asked the gossiping ladies he might have known more than he did now. When he managed to break free and made his way to where the women had gathered they had managed to slip from his sight as a group of soldiers made their way towards the wall.

“Don’t bother trying to keep up with their babbling, inspector.” Andy said while he looked onto the courtyard for one last time before sighing and closing the door so that he could look at the policeman.
“What are we going to do?” Andy asked, though not particularly aimed at the inspector. “Odd how things got crazy so fast. I’m nowhere near my sister. Younger or older one for that matter. Neither am I going to save any princess while being pushed behind the last line of defense between us and lizard induced death. I can only imagine how you feel… Going from making the streets a safer place to this madness and not being able to do much about it at all.” Finally he looked up at Faulks and gave the man a weak smile.

It was then the fortress began to rumble and it seemed all hell began to break loose as there was yelling on top of the walls and screaming down in the courtyard. Soldiers ran up to the walls or made ranks near the gate while civilians fled from the scene.



Gunshots could be heard all over Fort Glory and all the time. It had been a constant for the ta’kun’s entire stay in the city and they no longer surprised anyone, including Yassun unless they were really loud and really closeby. A shot from the wall though? What was that going to accomplish? Little chance it’d even scratch a lesser ta’kun’s scales let alone penetrate a greater’s. No mermadon would consider it a threat. Then again, no mermadon had ever been in Sandy Graves’ sights either.

The shot came unexpected and out of nowhere, just before Lord Yassun was about to move out and the greater ta’kun with their shields could safeguard him from hostile fire. Hostile fire such as Sandy Graves’ shot. Had things been differently Yassun might have been better prepared but as it was there was little he could do to prevent Graves from hitting his mark. The shot from the powerful and accurate rifle didn’t mortally wound the mermadon but as it impacted between his right shoulder and his neck it spun him around and he only managed to stay on his feet just long enough for the second shot to come.

The sound of the second shot echoed in Yassun the Zealous’ ears and he knew full well that it was meant for him, much like the first one. It was but a split second realization that made his eyes widen and focus on the direction of Sandy before the mermadon was knocked off his feet by the second impact.

The first shot had done little to alarm the ta’kun surrounding Yassun of the danger, before any of them noticed the injury he had sustained the second shot was already underway. After that the ta’kun were rudely awakened from their slumber of safety and the Matron jumped up and looked around her to try and get a grip on the situation. Her large mate too was caught completely off guard as he had been too busy clicking his commands at his Red Fists to be paying Yassun much attention. It took but a short shriek from the matron to direct his attention at the downed mermadon to then see his mate get hit as well and slumping to the ground and on top of Yassun. His large eyes narrowed on the wall where he could just identify the source of the shots before Sandy turned to fight the more imminent threat around him and his comrades. The great mermadon knew but one thing to do now that his mate and their wizard had been struck to the ground and he bellowed a great warcry to his kin, his pitch black hammer raised to the equally blackened sky.

“Great dragons in the sky!” Yassun exclaimed as he tried to wiggle himself from out of the matron’s lifeless body.
The heads of many a mermadon quickly snapped to the small pile in the middle of them, including the patron’s who still had his hammer raised to the sky.
“I hate humans and their firearms.” He complained after he finally managed to lift the corpse of the ta’kun’s leader from his body and dumped it next to him. He sat crouched next to the dead greater ta’kun as he took a look at his injuries.
“Why do they call it firearms anyway? There’s not a lot of fire involved, and instead of an arm it’s a piece of wood and metal. How is THAT a firearm? I’ll show THEM a firearm. A real one!” He complained as he used his left arm to poke around his wounds.

It took a moment for the patron to come back to his senses but as soon as he did he forgot all about his plans of assaulting the inner keep and instead rushed to his mate’s lifeless body and pressed his head against hers.

“Moping won’t bring her back.” Yassun said coldly as he magically dug the shot from his shoulder. After he carefully maneuvered it through his broken flesh he caught it in his hand and inspected it for a moment before moving on to the second wound, a much shallower wound but at a much more critical location in his chest just left off center. The second shot was easily dug out of the wound and joined the other in his hand.

He carelessly dropped the two bullets before getting back on his feet. Now he was joined by his wall of shields, though it wouldn’t matter as the sharpshooter had more pressing matters to attend to anyway. Regardless it made him feel more secure and gave him no doubts about moving forward with their plan. The loss of the matron was going to cost them, but with the ta’kun already rallied to their cause and almost all of them committed to the battle with their commanding ta’kun still around there was no reason to rethink anything.

Yassun couldn’t help his gaze from wandering towards the wall. He could barely see from behind the shields, but he knew where the shooter had been. A lesser skilled mermadon would no doubt have been killed by the excellent shots from the wall, but luckily even while hardly aware his telekinetic abilities greatly reduced the damage done to his right shoulder and almost completely stopped the bullet heading for his heart. Had the first bullet been more accurate he might not have been around to tell the tale at all. Times like this made him wish he had spent more time training his healing abilities, but as it was he was a poor mender of wounds. He closed both the wounds with his left hand but the shoulder was bound to smart for a while.

“So, what is it going to be, big guy? Going to just sit there or repay the blood of our fallen with that of the humans?” He said directed at the ta’kun patron who was caressing his mate and whispering in her now deaf ears. He took his time before responding to Yassun’s words, but when he was done he took up his hammer and took his place next to Yassun.

“Good.” Yassun said and nodded. “Give the order.”
Yassun once again looked behind him to find Kylea. She was no doubt amused by the events that had taken place, but he’d have the last laugh. Seeing her alone sparked much anger inside of Yassun and as he went forward inside the protective shell of shields the mental image of his most hated kinsman and his disgust for the humans, and their sharp shooter in particular, fueled him. In fact he allowed his anger to consume him, to grow into a righteous blaze of hatred inside of him.

As he walked and allowed his mind to wander through the events of the past day and the past years his every muscle began to tremble and twitch from the power he allowed these emotions to unlock. Every fin on his body wiggled in anticipation for the final release of the power that was surfacing from deep inside of the mermadon sorcerer.

The shield wall had moved through the ta’kun lines up towards the door and stopped a short distance from it where the greater ta’kun deployed their shields to make an even tougher wall around Yassun which left for basically no crack or hole through which a bullet or arrow might go, except for a hole at the center of the shield, right in front of the door.

Yassun raised his left arm towards the hole, and thus the reinforced gate. It was shaking heavily and it required his right hand to steady it. Slowly but surely the mermadon focused his power into his arm and every muscle in his body tensed. His heavy breathing suddenly stopped as he held his breath before finally releasing the built up power.

“Fire!” He yelled on the top of his lungs while a bright blue beam emanated from the tip of his fingers, “Aaaaaaaaaarm!” He then continued as he allowed the full amount of power he had allowed to surface to surge through his arm and subsequently make its way towards the inner keep’s gate.

The immense force and heat channeled at the gate made the entire keep rumble. It took but a few moments for the beam of pure heat to set the wooden door aflame while it shattered there where the beam struck it. The steel portcullis could do little against the force but melt away. In but a few seconds Yassun’s beam had made a sizable hole in the gate while it had even shot through the hole set several wooden objects which it passed on fire with its sheer heat before crashing into the stone garrison building. Soon after the beam ended and did no more damage, but what more damage were the ta’kun going to need?

Kylea paced back and forth slowly, watching Yassun and his Ta’kun army decimate the human defenses. While she had no love for the human interlopers, she did wish some mermadon other than Yassun would get the glory of defeating the walled fortress. A pity. She was in hopes he would have just faded away, but somehow she knew that was too much to ask for.

As her eyes watched the events unfold, Kylea was not expecting her fellow kinsman to come under fire of the humans. When the first bullet struck Yassun and spun him around, she flinched and yelped in surprise, stopping to stand and watch as the next bullet struck him. Another flinch and yelp followed as well. When the third shot struck the matron down on top of Yassun, she covered her mouth to keep herself from screaming. She took a step forward then waited. As her Ta’kun guards saw their matron fall, they screeched in rage, wanting to join in the fray now more than ever.

Seeing an opportunity, Kylea looked at her guards and pointed towards the fallen matron.

“Do you want to stay here, guarding me or do you wish to extract revenge for the death of your leaders?!”

The Ta’kun seemed to be uncertain of what they should do at first. After some exchanges with each other, they apparently made their decisions. Lord Yassun, for all they knew, was dead as was their matron so if they abandoned their post of guarding Kylea, they wouldn’t be in trouble. As Kylea smiled triumphantly, watching the retreating backs of the Ta’kun who had been tasked with guard her, she was certain her wish for Yassun to fade away had just been granted.

So imagine her surprise when she saw the hateful mermadon dragged to his feet by the other Ta;kun around him. Blinking, Kylea couldn’t believe her eyes. Surely this was some sort of joke. What on earth had Yassun done to have the mercy of the gods? Even as she stood transfixed to her spot, she saw him gather the shields around him once more then glance back at her with a murderous look in his eyes.

Gulping hard, Kylea realized she had best find her way BACK to the sea from where she’d come or when Yassun got done murdering the human flash bags, she would certainly be next on his list. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to allow THAT to happen. Turning on her heel, she took off running as fast as she could AWAY from Yassun and his Ta’kun army. She would follow her nose to the sea and then she’d find some place to hide from him. Where exactly that was, she had no clue, but she had best find someplace he’d dare not even consider going.

The cold reality of daylight shone in the room Colleen occupied. She was so exhausted from the last couple of days events she didn’t move when she fell asleep. Rolling over, she felt the small lump beside her and glanced over to see Daisey still sound asleep and curled under the covers. The children had suffered quite a traumatic day. How were they going to fair now in the light of day? Slowly forcing herself to rise out of bed, she washed her face with the fresh, cool water at the dry sink and changed into the clothes Mrs. Forbes had brought to the room for her last night. They were a little big, but they were far better than anything she had given up when she got here.

Running a brush through her dark hair, she quickly tied the mass in a knot and flipped it over her shoulder. Poking her head into the next room, she took a quick head count and discovered one of the children were missing…already. Good heavens….were these children forever sneaking about? With a concerned urgency, she quickly slipped from the room and headed down the stairs.

As Mrs. Forbes came into view, Colleen quickly called out to the woman.

“Mrs. Forbes? Have you seen Sam this morning?”

Mrs. Forbes smiled warmly.

“Indeed I did, dear. He ate the breath of the porridge I made for him then I saw him headed outside.”

Colleen furrowed her brows and nodded, thanking the woman as she hurried to get outside and see what became of Sam. She hoped the young man hadn’t tried to start up the unsavory life he left behind. She wanted to talk to him and let him know he didn’t need to do that anymore. Looking out the window, she saw the group of adults conversing, all wearing frowns and Sam pop up from his hiding place and approach them.

Oh no! What was he about to do? She had best hurry out there to see what was going on and make sure Sam wasn’t a scape goat or smarted off to the adults. Colleen had just heard Marshall Kelland as he looked out at the sea, “I don’t know how to explain it, but one thing is sure. There’s a foul mystery afoot, and our poor Cloud may be in danger!”

Coming up behind Sam slowly, quietly, Colleen put her hand on the boys shoulder and looked down at him giving him a warm but concerned smile. Looking over at the Marshall, she spoke up.

“What sort of mystery, Marshall?”

Payden was very appreciative of Gertrude's assistance, although any sign of it was hidden by his pride. When she gracefully slipped away from him and gazed out the window of the antechamber over this strange new land, he could have swore she said something. She then turned about and presented him with the question that his mind had been fixated on during their walk, "Why were they really here?".

Payden fell into a large soft chair before a grand hearth constructed of a pale stone. Set aside the fire place were the sculptures of two rearing unicorns, their horns piercing the mantle above them upon which sat an ornate clock. His body pained him, and it was obvious to Gertrude that he still had much strength to be restored to it. Weary as he was Payden felt compelled to ease the girl's mind, as she was the only other person in this place that he felt he could trust now. He reached over to a small table beside his chair and plucked up a statuette of a mermaid, made of a green stone, and twisted it in the air observing it's every angle.

"We should first address the, 'here' before the 'why', Gertrude." Payden began, "Everything around us, even this statuette is not but magic. An illusion?" He said as he transferred the jade mermaid from one hand to the other, "It certainly feels real enough. Perhaps a phantasm? A trick of the mind making us see the world around us differently. Who knows? All we have been told is that this is his land and his alone. Now that says to me that he truly is an exile, so some of what Cursha had told us may indeed be the truth. If such is the case, then perhaps there is still truth in what he requires of us."

Payden rearranged himself in the chair, making himself more comfortable before continuing. "Believe me Gertrude I have thought long and hard on this even before we embarked on our voyage and I have always arrived at the same conclusion. That there is something about us that may harbor more power than we suspect. We are integral parts in Cursha's schemes that much we know for sure, and in time I believe we can use this to our advantage, but all in do time. For now, we must be compliant and learn all that we can, for once we each have mastered our abilities, together we can foil any of Cursha's plans. You.... you have to be s..."

Even if Gertrude had thought to offer her side of the story, she would have to wait. The tired man yawned and fell fast asleep in mid sentence, succumbing to his bodies need for rest.

Elija woke up once again in a real bed, it took him a few seconds to realize and remember that he was no longer in "his" bed in the only home he had known since the death of his birth mother, father and sister. He slowly slipped out of bed, noticing Sam was gone. Slowly he dressed , slippimg on the Basha's red tunic and walked barefoot down to the kitchen where Mrs. Forbes was. "Pardon Ma'am." he said quietly "'ave ya seen me mum or Sam. I thank ya for cant of togs (A gift of clothing) ma'am.

Marshal Kallend turned his troubled eyes to Mrs. Smith. “Oh, good morning to you,” he said, a bit distractedly. “Oh, well, I would not worry yourself too much about it, Mrs. Smith,” he replied to her question. “It would seem we’ve been visited by some strange manner of thief—”

“A witch or a fairy, I trow!” Sam interrupted.

Kallend ignored the boy and assured Mrs. Smith, “But evidence suggests that the culprit is no longer in town.” In a few brief sentences, Kallend summed up the predicament of the shopkeepers. “And now this man who supposedly paid them all for their goods and services has set off with his young ward, a lady called Miss de Pontu, not to mention, our own Cloud—a dear friend of this town, and a man we would trust with our lives.” Kallend paused as he recollected Mrs. Smith’s own story. “Well, you’re from Fort Glory, perhaps you know that stranger in question and can enlighten us all. His name was Mr. Starling, and he has a foreign aspect. And Cloud you no doubt know as Mr. Payden Raynsford, the rail warden. They set off sailing east in a sloop.”

* * *


On the desolate island, in the too-beautiful dream castle, Gertrude watched Payden Raynsford slip into the mercy of an exhausted sleep. ‘You must be strong,’ that was what he was about to say, she was certain. It was the same thing Andy had said to her when he had been preparing to leave on his own quest—that might have been ages ago, now.

Yes, she would be strong. That was all she had left. She would carry on, for herself and for this poor man who was the only friend she had now. She didn’t even mind that he called her Gertrude now. No doubt the situation warranted a first-name basis. She spread a fluffy blanket, pulled from a tall bed, over his softly rising and falling chest, wondering if the cloth was magic, too. When she thought about it, the blanket felt thin somehow, as if it might fade, the way a dream feels right before you wake up…but still, the blanket was there, as they were. Stuck for now.

She spent a few moments breathing deeply and watching the golden noontime playing on the wind-ribboned swaths of green grass below. Yes. She was ready to master her magic, and she would, no matter what.

Leaving Payden to his dreams, Gertrude descended. She saw now sign of Curt—Cursha, she reminded herself—all the way back to the boat. Much to her dismay, the sloop had drifted away from the dockside on its anchor, for she had forgotten to tie it to the posts. “Oh!” she scowled, “I’m completely hopeless! And not at all suited to adventures, after all.” The side of the sloop was just out of reach, and no matter how she strained, she could not so much as brush the waxed wood rail with a fingertip.

Curt—Cursha—had though to tie up the longboat, at least. She clambered into it’s shallow belly and used a paddle to shove up against the sloop. Making a point to tie the longboat to the sloop, she at last managed a graceless scrambled up onto the deck of the Sylph. With the now-familiar smell of the salty wood beneath her, she felt a sudden urge to curl up in her little cabin below and stay there, alone. But she there was no point to it. She would get what supplies she could carry and go back to the strange castle.

The whole endeavor took more effort than she had been planning on, but she at last managed to cart a boatload of supplies back to the dockside. She wasn’t strong enough to haul the sloop close enough to tie, so she left it drifting on anchor and loaded herself with two baskets from the longboat. The rest could be retrieved later.

On her way back up the path to the castle, she almost ran into Cursha, vision blocked as it was by her burdens. “Oh!” she gasped.



“Getting settled in I trust?” His expression was unreadable.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Isn’t Mr. Raynsford with you?”

She frowned. “He still has much recovery to make.”

“Of course he does.” Cursha’s smile made her avert her eyes. The sorcerer said, “When he wakes, tell him I want to see him in the throne room.” He fluttered a hand at her. “Well, carry on, carry on.”

She frowned again and trudged a few paces further with her burdens before she topped again, back to the man. “The least you could do is be a gentleman,” she informed him coldly.

Cursha’s almost pleasant chuckle forced her to glance back at him. There was something in his hands she hadn’t noticed before, long and white—a bone? Her blood congealed. He said, “I am your master now, Gertrude, and you will do well to remember that.”

She turned away, back rigid. “Yes, Sir.” She continued walking. He’s an evil man, she thought desperately. And we are trapped here at his mercy! The sea cave was blocked by boulders now, and if they were going to get off the island they would have to drag the longboat up to the beach—not that they could manage that—or build a raft.

But Payden was right, she reminded herself, trying to even her breathing. They had to learn from Cursha, however despicable, and no doubt there were some truths hidden like pearls in the bellies of his lies. They had a part to play, and it wasn’t over yet.

Sergeant Lasekura and the tall Lieutenant Bane, fought back to back, raging against the constant onslaught of the relentless scaled bastards that had destroyed what a beaten people had dared to rebuild. Every slash that hacked through the flesh of a Ta'kun, empowered the two men and madness gripped the two men. Driven by the uncontrollable blood lust that can over take the strongest of men in the heat of battle, the sergeant and lieutenant no longer felt the pain of their wounds. Whether their foe was greater or lesser, they met them equal fury and ferocity, dodging and parrying attacks that only a madman could avert and avoid.

Shoulder to shoulder now, the two blood soaked demons that were once men began to strike fear into the hearts of the Ta'kun that watched as their brothers and sister fell before their rage. A spear tore through, Bane's left shoulder and he roared like a beast, consuming the pain as he hacked through the spear shaft and the arms that held it with one powerful stroke.

Inspired by the two heroes, other men joined in the fray, and soon the southern wall was nearly cleared of the beasts that began to retreat. While the soldiers cheered their victory, Bane and Lasekura would not let any of the Ta'kun escape. Battle-drunk, they continued to hack the creatures apart as they attempted to leap from the walls. A greater Ta'kun jumped from the eastern wall of the inner fortress, but not before Lasekura drove his sword deep into the creatures rib cage, but his sword became stuck and unable to free it, the Sergeant was dragged off the wall, plummeting to the street below.

As Bane hacked apart the last of the Ta'kun on the wall, he noticed to soon that Lasekura was teetering on the edge of the wall and missed him as he made a lunge for the falling man. Luckily though, the Sergeant landed upon the his shield and the body of the robust creature and suffered only the wind being knocked out of him.

"Archers!" Roared Bane, and a rag-tag band of bowmen came running to the wall where he stood, then pointing to the street where a band of Ta'kun closed in on Lasekura he ordered, "Cut them down!"

Lasekura forced himself to his feet. Sobered from the fall, he saw no victory against so may Ta'kun and he turned and ran, just as the archers on the wall loosed their arrows into their hides.

Lieutenant Bane watched Lasekura vanish into the night and prayed he did not return to this graveyard. "Good luck, my friend.", he whispered, then turned around to his men. Bane's face was pale and his eyes were noticeably having trouble focusing. He staggered to the far end of the wall, the men parting as he moved past them, until he reached the young blonde haired sniper who sat on the rampart his back up against the crenellation.

Sandy's face was grey and blood oozed from his mouth. He could barely make out the man that approached him and he attempted to raise his hand in a feeble salute.

"Take it easy lad." Said Bane, as he fell to Sandy's side, his legs no longer able to support his weight. The big man, pulled himself against the wall and leaned next to the sniper, with the soldier's helplessly watching.

"I am sorry that I won't be fighting along your sides." Bane gasped, then he looked over at Sandy whose eyes had already closed. "It... seems that... me and the lad here.... are off to the green fields." Bane's voice was broken, but with his last once of strength he raised his sword as high as he could and with his final breath shouted, "Long live the King!"

Even as the men raised their arms high to repeat their Lieutenants last words the mermadon sorcerer's beam of fire blasted through the gates, setting fire to the inner courtyard and roasting several men alive in its wake. All seemed lost then, Bane was dead, the Captain if not yet a corpse soon would be and the last leader who may have inspired the men to rally had vanished into the night, pursued by Ta'kun. This was not the way the men had envisioned this battle but then most soldiers only saw the glory of war and very few foresaw the defeat.


The night was all but a blur in his mind when Lasekura watched the sunrise over the peaked rooftops of Meirathal. He leaned against the neck of his mount and patted the horses neck. "Thank you my friend." He said to the animal that the man from the far east believed could feel his appreciation.

The gates that were usually open at day break, were still closed since people had become somewhat paranoid since they heard of Fort Glory's fall. Their fears were then confirmed with the bloody soldier was granted passage, and he rode into the town square. He needed not speak any words, the state of him spoke what all had assumed, and an ominous silence seemed to fall across the village.

A guard lead Lasekura to the Brakish Bed Inn, where Marshall Kallend was holding audience with the shop keepers who had just discovered that one of their recent visitors had betrayed their trust.

"Marshall." Called the guard. "A soldier from Fort Glory. I brought him straight to ya, just as ye ordered."

The burly man excused himself from speaking with a dark haired woman and turned to look upon their latest guest.

Sergeant Lasekura, bloodied from head to toe, straightened himself upon his chestnut mount as straight as he was able to give a slight bow of gratitude accompanied by a weak smile. "I am Sergeant Lasekura of Fort Glory and I humbly request sanctuary."

As the Marshall moved toward him, the dark haired woman whose face he had obscured from Lasekura's vision came into view and he immediately recognized her, then the red headed boy from the sewers. He flashed them a gleaming smile, "I am so pleased that you are safe, Mrs. Smith.", he told her, speaking as loudly as his wind burnt voice would allow.



Payden awoke with a start as the clock on the mantle chimed twelve bells, and yet it had not tolled for any hours prior. He stretched, and surprisingly he felt fit as fiddle, his strength had returned and he no longer felt noxious. When he moved to cross the room he had to skip over a pile of items that he recognized to be his. He procured his black coat and weapons and found Gertrude outside in the lovely court yard, sitting beneath a pink blossomed tree writing in her journal. When he found out that she had brought up most of their possessions by herself, Payden was mortified and in an instant the hunger in his belly was replaced with a burning rage.

Learning that a lady had to carry her own baggage was one thing, but for to bear the burden of his own was unacceptable. "Where is Cursha?" Hissed the rogue, his dark eyes consumed in shadow.

Payden learned that their master awaited his presence in the throne room and without hesitation he stormed off toward the centre of castle. He found the great hall quite easily then crossing though the splendidly decorated chamber climbed the stairway to the first landing then the next set to the throne room.

He prepared himself to be cordial, and dowsed his rage with his cool sensibility, trying to pretend that Cursha was still the same amiable man whose company he found rather delightful. After all he had not harmed them in anyway and so he would extend the same courtesy he had shown them for the time being, but after the lord had spoke he would let him know of his disdain for his manners.

Splevey(MC) had gathered a gang of thieves, pick pockets, sharlatons, "collectors" along with Phoebe(MC) and Billy(MC) at "The Roundhouse a rough tavern near the rail yard that was frequented by the unsavory of Fort Glory, as well as the ruff and tumble yard workers.

Splevey banged his cane on a table and said...."Look here ya lot, tha 'thorities ain't doin shite about these here lizards. The way I sees it, the time 'as come ta move out whilst we can. There be better pickin's at Haprers Crossin'; Baloc or Huborn. Me an' me lot is gettin out, I advises ya ta do the same best as ya can."

Splevey then looked at Phoebe, Billy and a couple of his "collectors" jerked his head and they all walked out of the "Round House" and towards the rail yards.

“For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return.” – Terrasil, teaching the hatchlings.

The sky. It looks so innocent from the ground. But once you’ve stretched those leathery wings for your first time you realize what your eyes can not see. The layers of wind currents are not the easiest to master, and that is on a clear day. But no matter the invisible challenges, once a dragon has successfully tested his wings he will not stop before he has conquered the skies, clear weather or during a storm. And when they have accomplished that they are like gods reigning from the sky.

It’s better for two would-be gods to fight it out in the sky… One can imagine what a mess it would make on the ground. But when dragons fight they don’t fight over their place in the sky, ironically, they tend to squabble over their place on the ground, be it their standing among dragons, decided upon during meetings on mountain tops or a place they retreat to for resting.

Good places for dragons to rest are hard to find. The mountains are preferred by all, but quickly become congested and even the smallest cave is then hotly contested. Some decide to lurk in deep forests and other secluded and hard to find places. Among which are also tiny islands in the sea, ruined castles optional.

A relatively small dark red dragon swooped in towards this particular island from the north. Cursha’s illusion stuck out from afar and instead of landing the dragon circled the island to assess the situation before deciding to land on the ruined outside wall.

“What foolishness is this!?” The dragon’s voice boomed across the island in the heads of anyone on it while roaring in disdain. “Whose sorcery litters my sanctuary?”

No dragon would bother with reconstructing a piece of human architecture, if anything they’d find it to be an eyesore. The dragon could hardly believe any human sorcerer could accomplish such a feat and didn’t see the point in a mermadon attempting to do so. It was quite the conundrum.

The mystery however had to wait, for from the north came another dragon, its screech made it clear it was not pleased at all. The dark red dragon had thought he had rid himself of this pest, but it seems his kin was more resilient and willing to continue to fight over this small speck of dirt in the sea. His adversary was but a dot on the horizon, but she was quickly closing and the red dragon was quick to take back to the skies while dark clouds gathered above the island from out of nowhere. The wind picked up and the waves crashed with great force onto the rocky coast of the island while sleet fell from the sky.

The dragon had hardly prepared for his adversary when she conjured up a number of fiery projectiles. There was no way to dodge all of them, leaving the red dragon with little choice but to weather some of the blazing orbs, trying to shield itself from damage with its scaly arms. No sooner had the green dragon made her opening move did lightning flash from the gathered clouds and struck her multiple times as the bright tentacles made their way towards the surface.

Clearly the assailant had been injured by the display of magic of the red dragon, but despite it all it continued on its collision course with its kin. Their claws slashed and their jaws snapped at one another when the inevitable clash occurred. Their desperate aerial struggle quickly resulted in both of them freefalling towards the surface. The two creatures roared in anger and yelped in pain as they exchanged blows to each other as they fell. Magic flashed and blood splashed as they drew ever closer to the unforgiving rock that was the island.

It was over before it had properly begun. What could have been an epic trading of blows between two skychildren became a simple matter of physics. The columniation of several days of fighting over the island had now been ended in the favor of the green dragon, who had disengaged just in time not to suffer the same fate as her red brother, as gravity called it to the castle’s courtyard. The green dragoness’ form landed gracefully, yet forcefully on her adversary’s corpse, crushing whatever bones were still in one piece.

“Guess what’s for dinner!” She said and roared in celebration of her victory. “I will treasure your ugly mug, Agarrad.” She said softly as she inspected her slain prey.

“Now then.” She turned directly to those who had taken refuge on her island and soiled it with their illusions of human buildings. “I am the Lideruss, mistress of this rock. Bask in my glorious presence and bow to me!” She demanded to whoever was on her island.

It wasn’t exactly the way she had planned it, to have a bunch of lower beings witness her final engagement with Agarrad who had challenged her for the ownership of this deserted island, but since they were there she might as well use them for some well earned praise. Doesn’t hurt to have an audience when you’re winning after all.

When Colleen heard Payden’s name, there was no doubt she knew exactly who he was. The look on her face spoke volumes for her. Her eyes grew wide and her cheeks took on a pale pink coloring while the rest of her face seemed to grow pale.

“Payden….was here? With others?”

The people Marshall Kallend described sounded nothing like any of the men he worked with. A young woman and a man with an odd accent? What on earth could have been so compelling that Payden would abandon his fellow railway men and seek refuge….on a strange island?

Of course all of these questions were cast aside when she caught sight of the beaten and bloodied soldier making his way into the center of the town on a tired steed. If her face could have grown any paler, it did when she saw who it was and how he looked. Never had she seen so much blood in all her life. Was it his or others? As the Marshall stepped aside and the soldier could see who she was, and recognized her, Colleen was already walking towards the horse.

“Sergeant Lasekura….yes, yes….we’re all safe. Thanks to you and the others. Please….come down from your steed and let’s get you cleaned up. We need to tend to your wounds.”

When Colleen got next to the horse and looked up at the Sergeant, she reached up her hand to help him from the saddle then spoke to Marshall Kallend.

“Marshall…..make sure the bath house has a hot tub ready for the Sergeant. He will need a good, long soak. When he’s done, could you please have your doctor tend him? If it weren’t for him and the others he fought with, the children and I wouldn’t be alive.”

Marshall Kallend looked at the nearest guard and barked at the young man.

“You heard the lady. Get a move on so we can get this man squared away.”

Lasekura hesitated a moment before he reached down and took Colleen’s hand then dismounted. Colleen was thankful the horse was sturdy and not flighty for there was no way she could have held the Sergeant up by herself. Draping his one arm over her shoulders, she slid her arm firmly around the small of his back to help hold him steady. Marshall Kallend came up to the other side and with his aid, Colleen was able to get Lasekura to the bath house. She could hear the water being poured into one of the large tubs and she turned Lasekura’s care completely over to the Marshall.

It was some time later when the Sergeant was released form the doctor’s office. Once again with Marshall Kallend’s aid, he was escorted back over to the Brackish Bed Inn. Colleen waited anxiously on the plank board porch and met the Marshall and Sergeant half way to help bring Lasekura the rest of the way to the Inn. All of the children were up now and Colleen had given up her room for the Sergeant’s recovery. She could sleep with all the children in the adjoining room. Once Lasekura was settled, Colleen sat on the edge of the bed.

“Rest now, Sergeant. You’ve earned it and then some. I’ve made you some tea with a slight sedative in it. Nothing heavy. I just thought you could use the help to sleep dreamlessly. It’s what they gave me when….”

She looked away for a moment then looked back.

“When I first came to Fort Glory after losing my husband. It will help you rest and that’s what you need right now most of all.”

Colleen was certain the Sergeant was going to refuse the tea. Especially the way his eyes seemed to bore through her, but he nodded slightly and she handed him the cup to take as much or as little as he wanted to.

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith. I’m glad you and the children are safe. At least someone made it out of there alive.”

Colleen didn’t know what to say. She merely stared at the Sergeant as he downed every last drop of the tea then handed the cup back to her. It didn’t take long for the tea to work and when she finally left the room, he was resting peacefully. Colleen could only hope it was for a good while.

Closing the door quietly behind her as she left the room, Colleen made her way back down the stairs. Handing the empty cup to Mrs. Forbes, she checked in one th kids to make sure they weren’t getting under foot . Most of them were out checking out the town and as Colleen walked around, looking for Marshall Kallend, she could see the children from time to time. When she found the Marshall, he was walking with a purpose towards the gates.

“Marshall Kallend. Might I have a word with you?”

“By all means, Mrs. Smith, so long as we can keep walking.”

“Certainly, sir. I was wondering about Payden Raynsford. Did he say why he was headed to an island with those people? And…did I overhear things correctly that the strange man he traveled with somehow fooled the people he bought things form? That doesn’t sound like the company Payden would keep….knowingly.”