Black and White: A Fiction
Written by Bradley "Mr Flibble" Weaver.

Book I
The Land of Eden.

"And you run and you run
to catch up with the sun
but it's sinking,
racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same
in a relative way
but you're older,
shorter of breath and one day closer to death."

~Pink Floyd~

Chapter 1
~Dreams~


Lightning crackled through the air. Thunder rumbled in his bones. The air tingled with electricity. It made what little hair he had left stand on end.

In his childhood he had heard stories of gods, of giant creatures battling across the lands, of people being plucked from their homes to worship into the wee hours of the morning, but he had always thought them just that. Stories. Right now, his eyes told him otherwise.

He had never believed in God, and were it not for the pit in the bottom of his stomach he still would not. The feeling was not alien to him at all. He had been a hunter for many years in his youth, and knew that feeling when someone was watching him. Normally, he could judge a general direction of the hidden party from this feeling, however today it was altogether different. It came from all around him, and from within him. It felt as if the world itself was watching him, and he did not like it at all.

"Focus." he admonished himself. That was not important right now. Whatever it was that was watching him would not hurt him. He did not know how he knew that, he just did. He even thought that perhaps before the day was over, the presence may help him. He knew he would need it. Those lazy bums the townsfolk looked to for protection were hardly a militia. They posed as much threat to an enemy as he did to the mountains dominating the skyline. No. he would not be able to depend on them. He would not be able to depend on anyone but himself.

Over the past week a shadow of threat was materializing in his mind. Sleep was rare, and when he did sleep he dreamed of war. Soldiers plated in mail armor marching across battle scarred fields, bodies of the fallen being picked clean by ants and small animals, death and destruction on a level he had never seen, pure hatred with no concern for human life. In his dreams he felt a presence, so much like the one he felt earlier, yet so much different. The waking presence comforted him, his sleeping one contained nothing but malice. It burned through him like wildfire, jumping from tree to tree, consuming everything it touched.

A loud boom removed him from his dream world, and brought him crashing back into the real one. In a cold sweat he jumped out of his bed, knocking his head on a shelf on the way up. A steady stream of obscenities flowed from his mouth as he went outside, as steady as the stream of blood flowing from his fresh wound.

"At least it can't get any worse," he muttered to himself, but he had spoke too soon.

The shadow growing in his mind was indeed an army, and that army had reached them during the night. Flames licked the night sky, and stones of fire rained from the heavens. The crash he heard had been a large boulder. After rolling down the nearby mountain range it had broken through the city wall and come to rest in the center of the tavern. Beer, wine, and stronger spirits were flowing in small rivers from the destroyed saloon.

Without thinking a cry rose to his mouth, and was released before he could stop it, "Now you've gone too far! I'll kill every last one of you!" In the rage of the moment he charged towards the breach in the wall, wrenching a blade from a runny corpse propped against a nearby building and jumping over the body of a fallen soldier. Without hesitation he ran headlong into the mass of soldiers and began swinging.

Just as he had been taught. No wasted motion, no flamboyant fighting styles, only what needed to be done. Every slash of his blade met with flesh, every movement followed by a splash of blood and gurgling screams. He was death embodied, and these people had not known what they had awakened. If they had, none would have stood to fight, none would have dared to cross him. But they did not know, and he cut them down just as a farmer would cut wheat. Their lives meant nothing to him, just as his life had meant nothing to them. He would see all of their ends this night, or perish with as many kills under his belt as he could before meeting his.

He was lost in the fight. He no longer heard, he no longer saw, he only killed. Guided by instinct his blade met every target, of which there were considerably less now than when he had begun. Had he been more aware he would have heard the rumbling, felt the ground shaking beneath him, but he was too engrossed in the dance to notice. Only once the army which had attacked was reduced to a dozen confused, blubbering fools did he notice that the rumbling had stopped, that the light of the moon was blocked out by some enormous shape. As he turned to defend himself, he could barely breathe. He had heard the stories, but this was no story. This was very real, and it looked to be quite angry with him.

He watched in stunned horror as the creature raised its hand to the side and tensed its muscles to attack. The only sounds that escaped his lips before the giant backhand propelled him through the air were "Oh no..." and then the muscles released. Pain spidered through his nerves. He felt like a ragdoll tossed around by children, and imagined he looked somewhat similar. The ground he had walked on his whole life, never giving it a second thought, quickly grew further from him. As his body tumbled through the air, he managed to shift his weight enough to turn his face to see where he was headed. This didn't comfort him any, as he realized that he was flying straight towards the sharp craggs of the mountains. As his mind took all of this in, he began to see his entire life flash before his eyes. In one eternal moment he went from a baby to his current situation. As he hit the peak of his trajectory, there was a moment of calm. He accepted his fate.

If he was to survive, he would need a miracle.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 2
~Memories~

"No, no! That's all wrong!"

The wooden sword flew right through the space where he had left himself open, and cracked him squarely on the forehead. He cried out in pain.

"You're thinking too much, you need to let your mind be clear like the river. You must flow like water."

His teacher always said things like that, "You must flow like water." or "Only in peace will you succeed in war." and although the boy didn't understand what the words meant most of the time, he would commit them to memory, repeating them as if they were some holy scripture that would be lost for all time if he didn't. The old man's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Are you even listening to me, Jake?"

He replied distantly, "Yes'r I'm listenin'."

"Okay, if you're listening then what did I just say?"

Jake replied in the same unconcerned voice as before, "You're thinkin' too much, you need to let your mind be clear like the river. You must flow like water. Only in peace will you succeed in war."

"Well, I didn't say that last part... but I am glad to see you're finally starting to get it."

The old man smiled his toothless smile as his eyes gleamed with pride. He was old all right, but not frail in the least bit. Muscles bulged from beneath his ragged clothes, little more than scraps now. He handled a real sword as nimbly as he handled the wooden one. Jake was getting better every day, and the old man thought that he may actually be struck soon. He had learnt not to underestimate the boy, who looked up at him with those same faraway eyes.

"Master Seya, can I go soon? I'm sore, an' I don't feel ."

His reply was quick and sharp, but nothing compared to the glare in his eyes.

"You whine too much, boy. You might as well have been born a girl. You'll never be a man at this rate."

Jake's posture changed. His muscles restricted as he raised his sword, body tensing like a snake ready to strike.To Seya's surprise his own eyes glared back at him instead of the boy's. No. That was stupid. It was just anger he saw in the boy's eyes. For a moment though he could have sworn that they had even changed color.

Seya watched in awe as the boy's face softened. His eyes had changed colors, that much was certain. Jake spoke with an eerie calm that made Seya's skin crawl.

"You're right. I whine too much. Yes'r you're damn right that I whine too much. I'm sick an' tired of gettin' yelled at. I'm sick an' tired of gettin' hit with these damned sticks, an' I'm sick an' tired of listenin' to you prattle on all day long. I'm not gonna whine anymore, that doesn't get me anywhere. Instead, I'm gonna beat you until you can't make my life hell anymore."

Seya grinned widely.

", boy! I was hoping you'd figure that out soon. Now hit me, if you can."

Almost faster than Seya could register, Jake's wooden sword was whistling through the air, carving a path directly towards his head. He brought his own sword up to defend just in time, knocking it clear. Without so much as a pause Jake shifted his weight, using the new momentum to his advantage. To Seya it looked as if Jake were moving at least twice his normal speed, if not more than that. To Jake, Seya looked to almost be standing still. His movements, however perfect the style may be, were slow and predictable. Jake easily bypassed his teacher's defenses and landed three quick blows;First to his left shoulder, second to his ribs, and third to his forehead with the flat of his blade, just as his teacher had done to him. The look of dumb shock that met his eyes warmed his heart.

"Well I'll be damned." his teacher muttered, collapsing backwards into himself. Jake screamed in surprise, rushing to his teacher's side.

"Oh my god! I killed him!"

"No, my friend, you did not kill me." Seya croaked, cracking a weak smile, "You gave me one helluva beating though, I'll tell you that much. I ain't been beaten like that since I was your age." He tried to laugh, but quickly thought better of it. Breathing was hard enough. It felt like his shoulder was dislocated, at least one rib broken, and he was almost certain that he had a concussion. Stars danced before his eyes as distant sounds echoed in his mind.

"I'm sorry, Seya. I didn't mean it!"

"Ha!"

He immediately regretted putting so much force behind this last word as he began to cough up blood. His eyes went wide when he realized that he was choking. This was it. After living as long as he had, this was how it would end. Slumped on the dirt, cradled in his student's arms, choking on his own life force. It made him want to cry. Before he could he was tilted to the side, the blood running from his throat, clearing his airway. He coughed the last of it out and breathed deep, tasting something he barely recognized. Life. For the first time in a long time, he felt alive. He felt that his life had had purpose, and that he had fulfilled that purpose. He looked up into Jake's eyes. Tears were streaming down his face, and he came close to choking on them several times.

"I'm so sorry..." Jake whispered.

"Don't be." Seya whispered back, "You have made me proud this day. You are now a man. You will make your father proud, I'm sure of it."

"Please don't die..."

"Me, die? Not yet boy. It'll take more than that to kill me."

His breath gurgled in his throat and he rolled to clear it once more. When he turned back his look was different. It was far more serious. The look worried Jake.

"Now you must leave."

"Leave? But where would I go?"

"You must go into the world and begin your new life."

"But...but..." Jake stammered, "But where would I go?"

The old man smiled his toothless smile and took Jake's hand in his own.

"You must go out there." He pointed off into the distance, "The Wild."

"But I'll die!!" Jake squawked.

"If that is your destiny, then yes. I do not think the Gods will let you die, though. Your skill is far too great. I think you and I both have much yet to accomplish before joining the universal mind."

A look of calm washed over Jake's face. A look of understanding. He sighed, and nodded slightly.

"Will you be okay, if I leave that is?" he questioned, looking half like a frightened child, half like a stone statue of Zeus or some such God of old.

Seya responded first with a smile.

"I will be fine, friend. It is a shame we can not spend more time together, but that is the way of things. I am lucky to have had the honor of teaching you these past years. I hope that you will speak fondly of me to your children, and your grandchildren."

For a long moment, they only stared into each other's eyes. Finally Seya broke the silence.

"It is time." he said softly,"You must leave now. Take a bow, and your blades. You will need them if you are to survive."

For a moment Jake looked to be on the verge of tears, and then showed nothing. His face was devoid of all emotion. He looked deep into his teacher's eyes, and then smiled. He clapped his fist to his heart and bowed slightly. He spoke only two words.

"Thank you."

Without pause he turned, gathered his things, and set off into the wild. He had no idea what to expect, but he felt no fear. He felt like he could challenge God himself to a fist fight, and win, with one hand tied behind his back. As he walked away a sound was carried to his ears by the wind. It was the last sound of his old life, and the first of his new one.

"Thank you."

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 3
~Intervention~


His parents were both murdered a week after he was born. Seya had promised them, before they drew their final breath, that he would raise young Jacob to be a man. He was fifty-four at the time, and it was another fourteen years before Jake had moved on. Although Jake never discovered the fact during his life, the old man lived another ten years in peace, spreading his knowledge to all willing to listen, before dying in his sleep one night.

Now the boy was all alone, wandering through the woods in the dead of night. He hoped that he would find food soon. His stomach was growling something fierce. Suddenly there was a rustling in the woods, a gust of wind. It was sort of a howling wind, and he thought the rustling was a deer. Slowly, he began to feel lighter. The wind became louder. It picked him up and he slowly began to tumble. Panic struck him until his vision fixed on the sky. It was a peaceful sight, and it relaxed him greatly. His thoughts brought back to the present, he realized where he was and what was really going on.

He had just reached the peak of his flight and was beginning to build up speed toward the cliffs. There would be no soft landing on the razor sharp rocks. He could think of nothing else to do but pray, and so pray he did.

"God," he began, "I never really believed in you, and I'm still not sure if I do now, but I know that you're my only chance. Please God. I ask only for your help, and I will forever be in your debt."

As if on cue the winds picked up, blowing him slightly towards the town. It didn't look quite as deadly as the rocks, but it still didn't look like he was going to walk away from this one. He sighed and a small smile spread across his lips, "It's okay God, thanks for trying anyways. I appreciate the sign that you do exist. I guess I'll be seeing you soon."

As the ground rushed up at him he had an urge to spread himself out flat. Suddenly he noticed a patch of trees seemed to be leaning in towards a central point. It looked like that was going to be right where he would land. Before he could wonder what was causing it, the air itself exploded outwards. As it exploded it ripped trees from the ground and sent rocks and animals flying in every direction. As he hit the shockwave, it felt like hitting a soft mattress. To his surprise the blast launched him in a new trajectory leading straight to the center of town. As soon as he had cleared the wall he slowed almost to a stop, as if some giant hand had caught him and was now carrying him around.

He was slowly lowered to the ground, and slumped onto the grass. He tried to stand, but both of his legs were broken, as well as his arms. From the pain in his chest he judged that he had broken at least four ribs. He would not recover from these wounds, this would be his end. He flopped onto his back in surrender, "Okay God, I'm ready to go. Thank you." but something happened he did not expect. He began to feel a slight tingle building up in his bones. At first he thought that it was just his bones in shock from not being where they should be, but he soon realized that this was some different all-together.

It felt to him as if his entire body was humming with light, a bright white pulsating light which seemed to heal his mangled limbs a little more with each pulse. Either he was insane, which was quite possible after all this time, or his bones were righting and mending themselves. His shattered legs straightened and hardened, his useless arms functioned perfectly now, even the headache which had plagued him for months was gone. At first he did not want to test his legs, afraid that they might buckle under his weight, but after he gathered the courage he found them to be in perfect working order. He stood and stared into the sky. What he saw next took his breath away.

A face looked down at him, but it was no normal face. It appeared to be made entirely out of pure energy, swirling and pulsating. It seemed to smile, a comforting smile that made him feel safe. He felt that presence again and gasped in recognition, "It was you I felt, you're the presence I felt!" and the face did smile and nod. He heard a voice in his head which somehow spoke without speaking. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, but felt the need to sleep threatening to overwhelm him. He could only think of one thing that mattered at the moment, "You're not the only one, are you?"

The face cringed for a second, and then smiled at the mortal below him. The voice in his head comforted him, "No, I am not the only one, but you need not fear the other who threatens us, the one who attacks us. He rules through , enslaving his people with fear. People will only worship through fear for so long before they long to be free. I will let them be free. I will let them live their lives as they wish. Will you help me to train the soldiers of the town and, perhaps, lead them in battle for freedom?"

"How could I turn down God?" Jake asked musingly.

To Jake's surprise God laughed, a hearty laugh that warmed his heart, and then looked down at him once more, "You are tired," God began, "and you have been through a trying day. Sleep well this night, and awake anew come morning. You surely have more questions, and I will answer as many as I can tomorrow. I apologize but I have other business to attend to right now, I hope you understand."

"Understand?" Jake chuckled, "Of course I understand, you're God. I'm sure you have much more important things to do than being here talking to me. We will speak more later." although he never expected to hear the next words that he heard.

"Thank you."

He peered up into the giant swirling vortex of a face and felt like he would burst into tears. He felt like it understood him completely, almost like an old friend. Before his eyes the face began to slowly disintegrate, minute balls of pure energy twisting off in every direction. Before he realized it, the face was gone and he was left staring into the darkness. He walked back to his house in a daze, having fully expected to have met his end this day. He didn't remember opening the door, or taking off his boots and sliding under his covers. As he sighed a breath of relief a single thought crossed his mind, "Thank you."

As the darkness took hold of him he began to dream, and for the first time in almost as long as he could remember his dreams were not of war.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 4
~The Edge~

He dreamt of youth. His youth to be exact, or lack there-of. His unceremonious exile into the world at large. His inability to cope with it. Jake couldn't track humans yet, much less animals. His senses were so dull that several deer had grazed behind him and left without him ever feeling their presence. The unbearable hunger didn't help things any. He hadn't eaten anything since his new life had begun, save for some grass he had chewed on out of sheer desperation, and his mind was beginning to show it.

"How long has it been now?" he thought to himself, "Four days? Five? Maybe a week."

From somewhere inside another voice, very similar to his own, replied.

"It feels more like a month. I think I'm losing my sanity."

"I'm with you on that one, if I could just find something to eat..." he began, but the other voice cut him off.

"Don't even talk about food right now, I can't take it anymore. I'm thirsty too. Why'd I have to leave anyways? This is stupid!"

"Yeah. It is stupid. That doesn't change anything though. We're out here, in the middle of freaking nowhere, and we're going to starve to death."

"Not if we work together." The voice sounded sincere, but for a second Jake thought he heard something else. No. It was just his imagination. The voice was the same as him. He was the voice. He had just lost his mind, and he knew it. It would probably be in his best interest to have both halves of his mind working together though, so he decided to accept the voice's offer.

"What did you have in mind?"

The voice cleared his throat in his mind, "Great." he thought, "Here comes a speech." and then the voice began to speak.

"Well, first of all we need to start looking around at the surroundings. Try to find some tracks, see if anything's been grazing around here. If we find something, then we have to hide and wait, and hope to God that it comes back." and the voice let loose a laugh. It was the laugh of a crazy person, "Just pray to God that something comes back."

Jake was surprised. Despite the insane laughter the voice's plan was actually pretty . He wondered why he hadn't thought of it himself. His mind always was in the worst places at the worst times. He looked around and saw nothing that struck him as important, "Okay, what do we do now?"

For a moment the voice was silent, and then after what seemed like an eternity it finally spoke again, "I don't know. I feel so weak, I don't even think I could stand up right now."

Jake had to agree. His skin hung slightly from the loss of his previous cushion of fat, his muscles seemed to be getting hit pretty hard as well. They ached and groaned, growing smaller with every passing day. He was about to voice his agreement when the voice suddenly cried out, surprising him almost to the point of jumping.

"Did you hear that?!"

"Hear what?"

"It was a crunching sound, like a plant being crushed. It came from behind me, turn around. It could be an animal. Turn around! Now! Turn! Turn! Turn!"

Jake realized then that he was irritated with the voice. Stupid voice, sounding like him. Showing him up, pointing out all of his mistakes. Maybe someone should just shut him up for . Do it in his sleep, make it look like an accident. Nobody would know, he'd never get caught. Then jake remembered that he had just gone crazy, and that the voice wasn't really another person. "Damn." he thought, turning around to look in the direction that the voice had said the noise had come from.

"What?"

"Nothing."

The voice had been right! As if he had wandered into some heavenly dream, a living, breathing savior stood before him, glowing slightly in the sun, eating small clumps of grass. Slowly, ever so slowly, Jake pulled his bow from his shoulder, reached back into his quiver of arrows. He only had ten arrows. He would have to be careful, he couldn't afford to waste any of them. Slowly he notched an arrow, raised his sights to the deer, and pulled back. As it neared its ideal tension, the bow creaked. Softly, but it was loud enough for the deer to hear it. To his horror the deer looked directly at him.

He knew that it was going to bolt, that he wouldn't be able to shoot it and that he would starve to death. His body would sit here by this rock until it was picked clean of meat, and then his bones would bleach in the sun for all eternity. But the deer didn't run, it stayed very still and just stared at him. Staring at him with an innocent look that seemed to say, "What are you doing here? I've never seen you before. Would you like some grass? It's quite here, and there's plenty of it for the both of us." and then it returned to eating.

Suddenly Jake didn't feel very about killing this deer. It was alive, just as he was. He could see the pulse beating through the veins in the creature's neck. He could see the deer's chest expand and contract with every breath. It was conscious, it was thinking, it had as much right to life as he did. He couldn't kill it, he had decided that he would rather starve. The tension in the bow eased, and he slowly lowered it to his side.

"I can't do it, I can't kill him."

"Like hell! If you can't do it, I will!"

To Jake's horror his arms began to raise, pointing back at the deer, "What are you doing?!" he screamed inside his mind, "Please! Don't do it! I can't do it! Stop!" but the voice paid him no mind. He pulled back on the bow, creaking once again, causing the deer to look up once again, now with a look as if to say, "Did you decide to come and eat with me after all?" but he couldn't stop it. Before releasing the arrow he felt the worst feeling he had ever experienced. It was joy, but not the kind of joy. It was impure. It was . It cared not that this animal would save his own life, rather only that he could bring an end to another creature's life. It made him want to vomit. Suddenly everything went black.

He saw nothing, he only felt. He felt the arrow in its place, felt the energy stored in the string, felt the air between him and his target, felt the path that would lead to the bull's eye, as Master Seya had called it. And then the arrow was released. The world flashed back into focus. The arrow followed the path perfectly, and met with the deer's heart. The look of surprise and betrayal on its face broke Jake's heart, but caused the voice to cackle in glee.

He couldn't take the conflict anymore, it was driving him crazy. The fact that he was already insane, and being driven to be more so, didn't comfort him any either. He was glad when the other began to gut and clean the kill. Jake didn't think he would have had to strength to do it, but the other seemed to be fueled by a form of twisted blood lust. It sickened him that this thing had resided inside of himself. He wondered how long it had been there, dormant inside of his own mind, waiting for the catalyst to set it free. He wondered what had caused it, or if there had even been a cause. Was this thing just another aspect of his own consciousness that he had refused to acknowledge up until this point?

Maybe he really was sick and twisted. Maybe he had snapped. Maybe he had crossed that threshold that, once crossed, could never be passed through again. His thoughts continued on like this as the other carved and cooked cuts of meat, intoxicated by the smell of searing flesh. The blood lust had seemed to have died down some, Jake felt the other relaxing as the meat sizzled above the flames. Finally he gathered the courage to speak.

"I couldn't have done that, you know?"

"I know."

The reply caught him off guard. Maybe the other knew things about him. Maybe it had been watching him. Keeping track of his every move, making note of his weaknesses. He quickly dismissed the thought though. He didn't want to accept that as a possibility. He had said that he couldn't do it, and that was how it knew. He knew that he had to keep friendly with the voice; Having an adversary inside one's own mind would do nothing but hurt him. He had to get this thing under control. He had to make his mind whole again. He knew that much, and figured that he would worry about the details later. For now, he would play along.

"Is it almost done?" he asked timidly.

"Yes, nearly done." the voice replied.

And they sat in silence until it was cooked perfectly. Jake had never been a cook, and was amazed by the other's knowledge of searing meat. It was almost as if he saw into the meat and knew how cooked it was. The first bite was like a little piece of heaven, God himself giving his body energy to work with. As he ate, the voice grew groggy, "I'm starting to feel a little tired, I think I'm gonna take a nap now." it whispered, sounding as if it were nodding off already, "Okay, I'll talk to you later." was all the Jake could think to say, although he regretted it immediately after the words had left his mouth. And then the voice was gone and, once again, he was alone.

It was then that he began planning on how to get rid of the other.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 5
~Showdown~

He was dead. That's all there was to it.

He had thought about his little 'problem' until dawn, and had come to one conclusion. He could not survive. It would be impossible for him to survive by himself. He needed the other. Jake was at best an adequate hunter, but the voice's skills dwarfed his in ways that he could not even hope to concieve of. While Jake could hear, or sometimes, if downwind, smell, his kill, the other seemed to able to feel his surroundings. Jake imagined veins of energy spidering out, feeling around like an octopus looking for a meal.

Shortly after dawn, just as the sun was breaking over the trees, the other awoke. In his mind Jake saw a face to match with the voice. It looked almost like him, but different. He couldn't place how it was different, but it was. It disturbed him no less than the voice itself did. It smiled at him, a smile that made him want to wretch, but he contained it and smiled back. It was a fake smile, but it was a smile none-the-less. Then Jake realized that he was smiling at a voice in his head and immediately wiped the phony grin from his face.

"So, did you sleep last night or were you up all night conspiring against me?" the voice began.

This line hit Jake in the heart like daggers of fire and ice. Maybe it really did know. Maybe it had been watching him the whole time, listening to his every word. Maybe it knew that he was planning something. Maybe Jake was doomed to continue this twisted charade until he died. Maybe it would keep going after he died. He didn't know, he didn't care. It didn't matter anymore. He was already dead.

"Haha! That was great! Don't look so sad, someone might think that I killed your dog!" the voice cheered. It began to laugh that same insane laugh, "That was so funny! Haha!" the face had grown shoulders.

"I don't think that's funny."

"No, I don't imagine you would. But, I also don't imagine you'd find the amusement in kicking small animals long distances either. Oh well, to each his own, as they say."

"Yeah, to each his own." Jake muttered. Then Jake let his inner thoughts come forth and before he could stop them it was too late, "I wish it was my own again."

"What?!" the shoulders had extended into arms and a torso. The arms were clenched in rage, face twisted in turmoil.

"'What' what?"

"What did you just say?"

"To each his own."

"No, it was something else! What was it!" the voice shrieked

"Holy hell! Settle down, you're too damned loud! You're hurting my head!"


"Don't lie to me," the voice began, "I know what you're planning. I heard what you said." the torso had sprouted legs.

Suddenly Jake felt helpless. The voice had been watching him, it knew exactly what he was planning. It didn't matter. Jake grew tired of this annoying voice. He didn't care anymore, he only wished for it to be over.

"Shut up! Shut up!! Just shut the hell up already! I'm sick and tired of listening to you! You're not even supposed to be here! Just go away!!" the cries of birds echoed in the wake of his outburst, and flocks of them soon lined the sky. The sight was almost relaxing. Almost. The voice's response took him off guard. Softly, yet firmly, it spoke.

"You go away."

Jake didn't know what to say to that, and so he said the first thing that came to mind.

"You go away, I was here first." but he was equally disturbed by this answer.

"I was here first, you go away." Jake began to interrupt but the voice continued over him, "I have been here since the beginning, and I remember the beginning. You have forgotten many things of your life, I have not. I know everything that you used to know. I have seen things that would give you nightmares. I have done things that would make you weep. I am harder than you will ever be. Harder than you can possibly imagine, and you made me that way. Perhaps I should thank you for that. But, if you think that I will ever be caged again you are sorely mistaken. I am free! You can not make me leave!"

Jake felt like giving up. The voice was right. He had no hope of defeating the voice. No hope. No. That was no way to look at it. Seya would beat him senseless if he could see him now. "Why are you thinking about the problem? Seya had asked. Jake coudln't figure it out. He had said to think about the problem, and Jake was trying to. "Think about the solution." Seya had told him, ensuring it was remembered with a swift blow to the side. Pain always seemed to make a lesson stick better. Jake was glad that, out of all the lessons forgotten, that lesson had remained. Fate was a strange thing indeed. Jake focused on the solution. He had an idea.

"I will not cage you, but I can not take this any more." Jake began, "I can not survive by myself. That much is certain. You know things that I wish I could know, and you are capable of things that I could never hope to be capable of. If either of us are to survive we need to team up. We need to join together again to become whole. I need your help." The voice was silent, and then it finally spoke.

"You surprise me Jake." it said softly, "I didn't expect you to be honest with me. I thought that you would give me some *** and bull story and then try to get out of it, but you didn't. You really are growing up, aren't you?" the body hovered before his mind's eye, glowing like a million fireflies.

"Yes. I am." Jake whispered, "I need to be sane again, I can't live like this anymore. Please, for both of our sakes..." but before he could go on the glowing figure exploded into liquid. No. It wasn't quite liquid. It was more like air, but it was silver. It was gold, and then every color imaginable. It expanded and enveloped Jake. At first he thought that he would drown, but soon found that he could breathe quite well. He saw faces, some of them were people he knew. Some of them he felt that he should know, but he had long forgotten them. It was as if he was looking into God. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed.

It was an eternity of memories, time no longer mattered. Past was present, present was future, future was ancient history, in an infinite expanse of verses. He saw the whole of creation as a single moment that stretched off forever in every dimension, even the ones we can't percieve. Taking his tiny corner of that reality, viewed at the right scale, existence as he knew it began to resemble cell structure, and, had he been more aware of what he was seeing, he would have seen that, in fact, it was many cells. It was a field of grass, and there was a giant lawnmower slowly lumbering towards them. It would be billions of years before it reached them, but it was still probably for the better that Jake didn't fully understand what it was he was looking at.

Slowly his own body absorbed the glowing air-liquid. With it came a soothing peace. He was whole again.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 6
~The Shadow~


Jake opened his eyes and found that he was safe at home, wrapped tightly in his blankets. A single beam of sunlight leaked through a crack in the wall and, its shape revealed by a light morning mist, rested on his left cheek. The warmth was comforting after his dream. He knew what he had gone through, but he didn't like to think of it. It was like Seya used to say, "While you're thinking about the past, the present is flowing by you." Seya was right, thinking about the past didn't help; At least thinking about that didn't help. He was sane now, that's what really mattered. Maybe not sane, but at least he was finally at peace with the voice.. He shut those thoughts away and focused his mind on what needed to be done.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stretched his entire body and then stood. Walking over to a basin of cool water he splashed some on his face, wiping the drippings with a nearby cloth before tossing it back onto the table from where it had come. He opened the door, walked out and it slammed behind him. The familiar walk to the square gave his mind time to wander.

The soldiers needed him, the people needed him, hell, even God needed him. That was the last thing Jake cared about though. He had been in positions of power before, and he had seen others succumb to the seductive allure of ego. He had promised himself long ago that he would never capitulate to the urge to abuse his influence. He would live his life with humility and in the service of others. He did, however, have a choice of who he was to serve. Just because he would not abuse his power did not mean that he would not use it. He would not allow himself to be caged. He was not afraid of extinguishing life if he thought it to be corrupt or . He had made mistakes in the past.

Faces and echoes rushed through his mind. Memories of times long gone. Memories long suppressed, now suddenly being exposed, unadulterated, to his mind. The images and words played over and over in his mind; the choices he had made. Oh God, if only he could take it all back. What he wouldn't give to take it back...

Then he found the door in his mind, a red door with a bronze nob set in a green frame, which had contained the memories for all of those years and slammed it shut. A wave of relief washed over him as he realised that the experience was over, and that he wouldn't remember it anymore. But he hadn't shut it all away. There were bits and pieces which he could still remember. There was a face, a beautiful woman with long blonde hair. She turned to him and smiled, but the smile made his blood run cold. What was it that was making his spine tingle? The answer was so close, but he couldn't grasp it. Whatever it was was locked behind the door. He reasoned that it was probably best to keep it that way.

Trying to reason with a delusional episode; He felt extremely sane at the moment. No, he wasn't delusional. Jake wished that the answer was that simple, but something inside told him that the true answer would be nowhere near as easy to obtain. He pushed the memories from his mind. He had more important things to worry about right now.

Thoughts crashing back to reality, Jake realised that he was standing still and had been for quite some time. A small group of peasants had began to gather, chattering about the strange man who was standing perfectly still, staring at a wall for no apparent reason. Some joked about the new statue that had been built for them, while others simply questioned his sanity. It mildly saddened Jake that the townspeople didn't know that he was the one who had saved them so many times, but, after he had thought about it, he realised that things were better that way. His years spent in solitude while he was growing up were not without toll. He had become distant, detached, aloof from society. He cared for other people more than he cared for himself; The sole purpose of his life seemed to be saving lives.. At the same time, he found it difficult to communicate with other people. Often times during conversations Jake would become stuck with a thought that he could not translate. He always ended up settling for a word that only captured half of the meaning that he was searching for. He would have to overcome this obstacle if he was to succeed in his task.

God did not meet him that morning as he had expected, instead he found a log that had writing burned into it. The log read "Kind of amusing, a note being written on a log and all, isn't it? Anyways, sorry I couldn't be here like I had hoped. I ran into some... business that I have to take care of. Please continue on with the training as we had discussed. I will answer your questions soon. The recruits should be waiting for you in the industrial district. Luck." Then at the bottom in strange, yet beautiful, curling letters it read, "I have faith in you."

"Fancy that." Jake thought, "God having faith in his believers." and he let loose a hearty laugh that echoed through the hills. His jovial mood was shattered when his laughter was answered by a growling, almost howling, cry from behind the mountains. He recognized the noise and he knew exactly what it meant. There would be no peace this night, flames would light the sky and the heavens would fall.

The town center usually had a handful of people whose crops were having trouble and felt that begging for God to help them in their time of need would somehow make God give in to their wishes. Apparently enough people had seen positive results from this display that it had become common practice. It looked like half of the town was worshipping feverishly. Jake shouted to the nearest person.

"Oi! What're you all doing there?"

Slowly one of the worshippers stood and turned to face him. His face was soft and loving, and yet it was full of fear. The man spoke quietly, barely louder than a whisper, and Jake had to strain just to hear him.

"Old Jones said that God needed our help. He said that the people who attacked us before would be coming back, and he said that this time they wouldn't be playing any games."

Jake ruffled his brow.

"I didn't think they were playing games last time, but Old Jones knows what he's talking about. If he says that something's on its way then it's a safe bet that something's gonna be showing up some time soon. I must be going though, brother. Thank you for your time. Peace be with you."

"As with you, brother." the man said, bowing to Jake and then falling immediately to his knees to resume his worshipping.

Jake continued making his way towards the industrial district. "Just follow the smoke." he whispered to himself.

Smoke from the furnaces billowed into the clouds, ash lightly raining down on the surrounding buildings. Machines grinded and whirred, Blacksmith hammers rung out as they struck their anvils. The world had a dark, almost gothic, appearance due to a layer of soot which covered everything, including the ground. It reminded Jake of Hell, or at least what he thought Hell would look like. He was glad that it was so far away from the houses; He could barely see the smoke from his own house. For a moment he wished that he could go back to his bed, crawl under the covers, and fall asleep again, but then, as quickly as the feeling had come, it had passed. Then he felt like he was floating through a dream; He could swear that his feet weren't even touching the ground. "I must be cracking up." Jake thought to himself. It was just his imagination. It must have been. What else could it have been?

As if in answer to his question, a deafening rumble tore through the countryside. It sounded like the earth itself were being ripped in two. Off in the distance, where the cry had come from earlier, smoke billowed up in a very strange fashion. It appeared as if it were a perfectly straight line, but that line was moving. Several passing villagers shouted out in surprise, but Jake remained silent. He had a difficult task ahead of him. This was no time to show weakness. He had to be strong, and keep his mind clear. Emotion could not be allowed to sway his decisions. There would be consequences for that, he knew he had to keep his head in the right place. He had to prepare lessons for his students, he needed more than just soldiers. These were dangerous times, he had warriors to mold. With great difficulty he averted his eyes from the smoke and continued on his way.

Finally he passed through an alley and rounded a corner that lead him into a square that filled him with hope. There were nearly five hundred people in the square, and Jake suddenly realised that there were women as well as men, some barely old enough to be considered adults. There were also people as old as their mid fifties, but they were still in physical condition. Jake hoped that he would be able to make them all deadly adversaries before it was too late. Another rumble echoed in the distance as dark clouds began to accumulate in the sky. Jake looked out over this army of people that he had been tasked with training, took a deep breath, cleared his mind as well as his throat, and began speaking, loud enough for every single person to hear him clearly.

"Now, some of you may be afraid to kill..."

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 7
~Training~


Glossy eyes stared from frightened faces. Most of them just looked at the ground, too afraid to face what they were up against quite yet. None of these petrified lumps of clay were soldiers. None of them had ever been in battle before. None had ever seen a dead person, much less killed a man. They were farmers and carpenters and bartenders and normal every day people. They locked their doors and cowered under their covers, somehow convinced that they would be protected, while Jake fought entire armies of foes by himself. He had a difficult task ahead of him. Among the sea of faces there were some that stood out like blazing beacons. Weapons were strapped at their sides, back, and legs. They dresesed differently, wearing leather wristguards and other pieces of light armor. The thing that stuck out in his mind the most was the calm, collected look that they gave him, each of their eyes meeting directly with his own. They had seen battle before, he could be certain of it.

Jake continued after pausing slightly to make sure that he had everyone's attention, "There was once a time when I was afraid to kill as well. Then, I learned one simple, but valuable, truth. There are certain situation which you can think your way out of, and there are some which can be talked out of. Then there are some that have only one path out, and that path is a difficult one to walk. I will not lie to you, killing a person hurts more than you can imagine. To carry the knowledge that you have brought an end to another life is a heavy burden to bear. It is a burden which you will not carry alone though. I want everyone to look around."

Everyone looked around, not quite sure what they were supposed to find. Some exchanged glances as if to say, "What's this nut going on about?" or, "Do you know what we're supposed to be looking at?" but slowly they all gave up and went back to looking at the old man who didn't look to be a strong warrior at all. He spoke confidently and assuringly, "You are all a family now. I know it sounds strange, but you will all come to know one another. You will be able to depend on one another when you are in need. You will work with each other until you get better at fighting than you had ever imagined possible. I can see that some of you have already fought before." the ones who had fought slightly nodded, while everyone else looked around in wonder, "You will be my generals, I want you to keep an eye on how people are progressing and keep me up to date, do I make myself clear?" and they nodded once again.

This was turning out better than he had expected. Hopefully things would continue going this smoothly. Once again he surveyed the crowd and spoke with a sudden, unmistakable, tone of authority, "How many of you don't have a weapon?" nearly every person other than the generals raised their hands. Jake added, "Household objects don't count as a weapons folks, I'm talking about swords here." and the rest of them raised their hands, "Well, we can't have an army without weapons then, can we? Everyone fall in and myself and my generals will present you with a weapon." to his dismay the majority of people just looked around with a dumbfounded look on their face. They obviously had no idea what it meant to "fall in". Maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as he had hoped, "Fall in means to line up in rows with equal spacing. The easiest way to do this is to put your left arm out holding the shoulder of the person in front of you, and your right arm out holding the shoulder of the person to your side." To his dismay, once again, nobody moved, "I said hop to it ladies! You don't get paid to sit around jabbering with each other, you get paid to fight, now fall in!" Jake couldn't believe it, but they were actually listening. His generals were helping some of the more resistant people to get motivated, and, other than the few people who commented on how they didn't get paid at all, he felt pretty about the entire situation. He smiled and thought to himself, "I may turn these sheep into wolves yet."

First the swords were handed out. They were basic wooden training swords, properly weighted but light enough to avoid doing a lot of damage. Some of the villagers played around with each other, clumsily trying to attack and block, usually hitting each others' hands more often than not. Jake, who normally would have been quick to end this kind of behavior, took advantage of their childlike play to learn a little bit about them. He saw groups of friends, smaller packs within those, how those groups crossed over into each other. It may have seemed trivial, but Jake never knew what tests he would have to pass in this life. It would be to have some of the answers ahead of time. When he was satisfied with his understanding of the people he was to train, he raised his hand slowly to silence them. The ones who didn't see him kept on fighting and laughing, but those who did see him lowered their weapons and fell silent. Soon the others realised that he was waiting for them, and it wasn't long before they were all silent and looking to Jake for guidance. For a short while he let them sit in silence, eagerly awaiting his command, until finally one of them spoke. It was a middle aged woman who broke the silence, and in a raspy voice she croaked, "What in the bloody hell do you have us down here for, old man? I'm tired, and I want to go to sleep. Could you at least hurry this up a little?." Jake only smiled.

"You must be patient. Only in peace, will you succeed in war. A very wise man once told me that, and It has held true to this day. But, however much I wish to emphasize patience, you are right that we are running out of time. I'm sure you've all heard the noises echoing in the distance, sounds of lumberjack gods felling trees in the heavens." and to his surprise the woman cut him off, "Oh, that's easy to explain. It's the rainy season, and it's just been extra stormy this year. Give it a couple weeks and it'll slow down." Jake, perturbed but not shaken, continued his story, "These sounds are not those of nature, as you believe. These are the sounds of war! Across the great plains and even inside the walls of this very city I have fought, and killed, a great many soldiers. All the while you were sleeping soundly, thinking the noises you were hearing were simply storms, the shouts and blood curdling screams just your mind slipping into the dream world. I'm here to tell you that it is no dream. It is very real, and if you want to survive you're going to have to do everything that I say, when I say it, do I make myself clear?" less than a dozen people mumbled "Yeah, yeah..." and began to talk with one another. Jake cut them off quickly, "I asked you a question, and I expect an answer. You will do as I say or you will find yourself begging for a merciful death at the hands of our enemies, if I don't grant your wish first, do I make myself clear?" and almost every single person responded, wide eyed and petrified with fear, with a resounding, "Yes sir!"

He began their training slowly, first teaching them the basics of combat. Drawing from his own lessons at the hands of Seya, he molded his wards into cunning warriors. Instead of teaching them how to block certain attacks, he explained to them the mechanics behind the action of blocking in general. He explained why certain moves deflected blows in different directions, and how the slightest error could result in injury, or even death. He went into great detail with the forces involved, and how to use those forces to one's advantage in battle. Soon he had them paired up and sparring. While he taught them a pattern of attack to follow, he told them to resist the urge to repeat strings of attacks during actual combat. He demonstrated how easy it was to recognize attacks, to see where the attack was going rather than where it was coming from, and how one could alter their own attacks to compensate for this knowledge. To him these were common thoughts that he had had for as long as he could remember, but to them they were gems of sacred enlightenment. He could see many of their faces glow with understanding. As they fought they began to learn to diffuse their focus. Instead of seeing the swords, and the people, and the tress, and the clouds, and having to focus on each of them individually, they began to see the world as a whole. Soon they found that along with the new perception also came a profound sense of oneness. They felt as if they were simply a part of this whole, made from the whole itself, as if they were a cog set in a great machine following a list of ancient rules laid down for them before time itself existed. Their movements, fluid and dreamlike, were the epitome of perfection. They had found peace, he had succeeded in the first step of his plan. Now came the difficult part.

He allowed them to continue sparring for a short time, and then raised his hand for their attention. Within moments they had all stopped, and waited patiently for Jake to speak. He smiled and began, "I can't express how proud I am of all of you. There are people who train for years and never reach the skill level that you are at right now. It seems that you were all born to be warriors, and I will not let you down. I want you to break up into groups of five, quickly, and I will tell you more once that is done." and he sat on a nearby tree stump, pulled his sword free of its sheathe and a flat stone from his pack, and began to sharpen his blade to perfection. Within a minute they had formed groups of five and were eagerly awaiting for him to continue. The stone was returned to its pack, the sword to its sheathe, and him to his place, standing in front of his eager students. He drew a deep breathe and continued, "Now I want you all to choose a number, one through five, one of each per group. Do it quickly, and do it quietly. I will continue when you are done." and in no more than twenty seconds they had all decided on a number and fell silent once again, ", now this next part is going to sound a little crazy, but I need you all to trust me. You will begin with the person who chose the number one. They are the warrior, and the other four people will be the attacking army." more than one person cried out in horror. Some were yelling, "But, we'll be killed!" or, "You're insane!" but, to Jake's surprise, he also heard someone shout, "We should be in groups of ten instead of five!" his attention immediately drawn to a rather lanky looking fellow who was suddenly recieving the savage beatings of everyone surrounding him, smiling all the while. There was something about the young man, something special, and Jake committed his face, and voice, to memory, "I know it sounds crazy but it is really quite safe. You can only get hit once, and then number two will become the warrior, and you will join the army. When number two gets hit he rejoins the army, and number three become the warrior... and so on and so forth, returning to number one after number five is hit. You may go at any pace you wish to, although remember that, for the purpose of this exercise, you are fighting your enemy. Your enemy will show you no mercy, and so you must show them none."

"Start your training now, and do not be frightened to ask me for help if you feel that you need guidance." Jake sat down on the stump and folded his arms across his chest. He watched in joy as they began to spar, starting very slowly and then eventually quickening in pace. One by one they were dispatched with little effort, even though the groups only attacked one or two at a time. For hours they practiced, oblivious to the setting sun and the chirping of crickets. Jake had planned to tell them to attack with more of their force at the same time, but before he could they began to change their tactics at their own pace. He saw that they were learning to let go of everything that hindered them from achieving their full potential. He could see that they were beginning to use their senses more fully, and he swore that some even looked as if they felt the attacks coming towards them. They began to attack in full force, and soon the warrior was able to stand his ground for at least thirty seconds before finally being hit. They were all turning out to have far exceeded his every expectation, and he felt prouder with every moment that passed. He had just given them the spark of knowledge, and they had done the rest. He never ceased to be amazed by the strength and ingenuity of the human spirit.

It was then that he realised that they had been practicing for far longer than he had intended on, and he rose to interrupt them. To his dismay, nobody even paid any attention to his attempts. He tried rasising his hand, clearing his throat, calling out for them to stop, beating his wooden sword on the tree stump, but nothing worked. He watched in awe as their teams broke up before his very eyes. The organised display that was previously present was replaced by chaos, and yet even in its chaos there was order. They began to fight each other, every man, woman, and child for themselves. It was the most beautiful things that he had ever seen in his life.

They were not ready yet, but they had made huge steps during their first session. Jake was beginning to believe that they actually had a chance of winning this war, and that he may be able to retire after all. He had always wanted to buy a little farm on the outskirts of town, breed some animals, and live out the rest of his days in peace. He wasn't quite there, but his dream was finally within his view. How he longed to live a simple life once again before meeting his end, "All in due time, my friend." he thought to himself, "In due time." Jake needed to deal with his students before doing anything else. Although the display was impressive, and fighting in such situations does wonders for one's combat senses, they did not realise the effect that it was having on their bodies. They had burned all of the fuel that they had, and were now running solely on adrenaline. If he didn't stop them soon there could be dire consequences; beyond the possibility of passing out it was also just as likely that they would die from exhaustion. Jake acted in the only way he could think of, by fighting.

He cleared his mind for the task at hand. He knew that he could not inflict any serious harm to these people, but he also knew that he could not be too gentle with them or they might ignore him entirely. All he needed to do was to get their attention. Without hesitation he ran straight into them, knocking people down left and right as he attempted to break their concentration. The wind blew in from the mountains, carrying a distinct odor of pitch, and picked up piles of leaves in small vortexes, swirling them among the fighting peasants. Swords clacked and crashed aganst each other, exhausted warriors panted and grunted, time itself seemed to slow down. Leaves floated almost motionlessly in mid air, his students barely moved. Suddenly he had an idea, and instantly he began to put it into action. He saw the middle aged woman who had spoken up before turn to face towards him as her sword began an arc directly towards his face.

He easily parried it and grabbed her by her main hand, trying to calm her as best as he could, staring her directly in the eye as if to say, "I need everyone to calm down right now, and I need you to help me. Please, their lives are at stake." and she seemed to understand his meaning perfectly. To his surprise she looked to the young man that Jake had noted earlier and he returned her glance, nodding his head as he began to wrestle the weapons from nearby villagers' hands. As she nodded, she turned so her back was against Jake's, and then began to wrestle the weapons from people who were near her, stopping them from fighting for long enough to calm them down, the other man working at about the same pace. Slowly, but surely, they calmed the chaotic group and soon everyone had collapsed on the ground, arms draped over each others' shoulders, laughing and gasping for air. When they had finally caught their breath Jake waved his hand to get their attention and began to speak.

"Alright, first off I want to say how proud I am of you. You all have the best instincts that I have ever seen, and I am certain that we will be able to defeat any enemy in battle." and a defeaning roar rose up from the crowd. Wooden swords thrust into the air in triumphant gestures, faces gleaming with joy. They felt like they were ready to take on the world. Jake had some difficulty in quieting them down, and only after great effort could he finally continue, "Your only weakness is your control, or should I say your lack of control rather? I can see it in your eyes that you are feeling at peace when you are fighting, but I can also see that many of you are losing your focus entirely. While you must keep your focus on your enemy, you must also know what is going on around, as well as inside of, you. You must always be mindful of your surroundings, they may present you with a tactical advantage. Most of all you must be mindful of me. I am sorry to put it so bluntly, but I need you all to pay very close attention. I can't blame you for tonight because my thoughts were wandering and I lost track of time, but I meant for this practice to end long ago. Most of you are on the verge of exhaustion, and I need you to listen to me now. When you go home you are going to be very hungry, and very thirsty. You need to take it slow though. Eating or drinking too fast could be very harmful to your body. I hope you all take this as a lesson. It is essential to be aware of one's own body at all times, because it will tell you things that you will not want to ignore. That is all for tonight, you have all done very well. Go home and sleep, dream happy dreams, and wake well rested. We will meet here again tomorrow around mid-day, until then you will reflect on what you have learned. Dismissed!"

Pale faces smiled from atop shaking bodies as they hobbled off towards their respective homes, most of them using their neighbors as crutches to keep from falling over. For a minute Jake watched them as they walked away, smiled a smile that only he could see, and then began to make his way back to his own house. The streets were completely deserted - everyone was asleep at this hour - and the cool night air felt wonderful on his face. It was so peaceful that he had a hard time convincing himself that he had not already made it home, and was not already asleep in his bed. Crickets chirped all around him, owls hooted softly in the trees, as a wolf howled in the distance. It seemed to take less time to get back to his house, as returning journeys often felt, and when he reached his door Jake realised that he didn't want to go to sleep yet. He wanted to enjoy this beautiful night for as long as he could. Right as he was about to decide to stay up and appreciate nature, a sharp crash tore through the landscape, followed by a deep and steady rumbling. Only then did Jake notice the orange light flickering on the clouds in the distance. Only then did he realise that he was hearing, and had been hearing for some time now, a battle raging on. He had become so accustomed to fighting that hadn't even noticed it being there. It meant that their only remaining ally was being attacked, and if they fell in battle then there would be nothing to stop the advancing threat. They would be naked to the greatest that had ever existed, and then it would all be down to him and his soldiers. The walls would be of little protection when the sky itself was falling on you. Jake decided that maybe he did feel like sleeping after all and turned back to his door. When opening it he had a strange sensation of deja vu, like he had already done this before. He ignored the feeling and went inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. He removed his shoes and set them near the foot of the bed, removing his pants and shirt and throwing them in a pile on the floor. He crawled under his covers and prepared to let the boundaries of existance slip away, if only for a short while. It wasn't long before he had drifted off to sleep, but he did not find the peace in his mind that he had been hoping for.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 8
~The Path~

Life in the wilderness was turning out to be easier than Jake had expected. Perhaps easy wasn't the best word to describe it, but it was the closest one that he would be able to think of for years to come. Shortly after making peace with the other in his mind, the knowledge it had contained had been slowly integrating itself into his own. With each passing day came more and more thoughts which he had never before imagined. It wasn't just the thoughts themselves that amazed him, but rather the way in which the thoughts came to him. His entire way of thinking, of looking at the world around him, his entire perception of existance in general, had changed. There were memories linked in his mind that, only weeks before, he would have never even considered as being connected. His entire life began to take on a different tone, his entire being was evolving almost faster than his mind could handle. He was slowly, but surely, coming to grips with who he was, and with his place in the scope of things.

He had become a very skilled hunter, tracking animals for miles sometimes if only to improve his own abilities. Since the night of reintegration he had not gone hungry, teaching himself how to set traps and remembering to check them regularily. If he failed to kill larger animals such as deer or elk he could always depend on having at least a small rabbit or squirrel to eat. He thought of ways to catch fish and, stripping plants to make twine, carving hooks like Seya had shown him from the strongest wood he could find, and using an ingenious counter-weighted pulley system of his own design, he could catch five fish without even being there to check the lines. He had only found it destroyed once, most likely from a bear looking for an easy meal, and shortly thereafter added another system involving a small box which would, after all five fish were caught, lower them into it and then latch itself tightly shut. While the machine was still likely to be destroyed - he would have to fix it again if it was - the box was anchored deep into a tree's roots and was thick enough to withstand any beating nature would be able to give it. He prided himself on this design, and ate his freshly cooked fish rewards in smug happiness.

As time went on, and as he explored further into the wilds, he began to notice that there were tracks which formed paths through the trees and brush. He had found paths before, and had thought little of them, but this one was different. Where the former paths had had branches and other obstacles hanging over them, this one was completely clear. Anything which would have been obstructing easy passage was cleanly cut at the borders. There were footprints littering the path, bare as well as wrapped ones, along with grooves carved by the repeated passage of horse drawn carts. It was obvious that the path had been tread upon a great deal, and quite recently by the looks of it. He stared off into the woods where it faded in one direction, turned around and saw where it abruptly dissapeared in the other, and then lowered himself to the ground to ponder his new discovery. As he delved further into seldom used areas of the mind, something deep inside told him to run, to get back on his feet and flee to his camp where it was safe, to ignore this symbol of civilization and to continue living his simple life peacefully in the wilderness. For the sake of everything , of everything that anyone has ever cared for, it said to leave now before it was too late. It nearly shouted at him. He was almost ready to give in to the voice and returned to his personal sanctuary when he heard a scream off in the distance. It was a woman's cry.

Deep laughter echoed through the air, drunken jeers and wailing sobs pierced his brain. Someone was in trouble, that much was for sure. Someone was all alone, with nobody to protect them, and would certainly be killed, or worse, if he did nothing to help them. No, it wasn't any of his business. Nothing but trouble could come of this, and that was the one thing that he did not want right now. Every part of his being told him to run away, to let fate take care of itself, that it wasn't his place to interfere. Despite his better judgement he jumped to his feet and took off running towards the source of the sound. He pushed his muscles as hard as they could be pushed, his lungs burned as his brain gasped for air. Every muscle in his body creaked and groaned, crying out in protest as they pumped him along regardless. He moved through sheer will power alone. The pain didn't matter. That would take care of itself with time. The only thing that did matter was the screaming or, more importantly, its source. Racing down the path, weaving in and out along with its curves, he was little more than a blur. Several small animals searching for food on the sides of the road looked up in surprise as they felt a rush of air, only to find an empty, albeit dusty, path before them.

The jungle began to be distrupted by large boulders and piles of rubble. Only then did Jake look up and realise just how fast he was really moving. The mountains that had, only minutes before, seemed so far away, now loomed high overhead. The path began to curve around natural formations and fallen boulders alike, crudely improvised attempts to overcome nature and the passage of time. The sounds were getting louder, he could hear them clearly now. There were three distinct male voices, each jeering and cursing in their own vulgar tongues. Behind it all was a small, sobbing voice. It sounded like an angel who had been banished from heaven under false pretenses, crying out against an injustice that would never be righted, that could never be righted. It would be, by the gods. He swore to himself that he would see it fixed even if it meant his own death. Although it seemed impossible at the time, he somehow managed to push a little harder, his feet barely touching the ground as he flew down the path.

"I've got first dibs on 'er, I called it!" one cried out.

"Like hell you do! I already claimed first before we set out!" a second replied.

"Both of you shut it, I've got her first and you know it!" a third shouted, "And keep your voices down. You never know who, or what, is listening." he added at a lower, though still very audible, volume.

Jake rounded a boulder and for the first time saw what was causing all of the commotion. Three men stood, backs towards him, cornering a woman like a pack of rabid dogs surrounding their kill. She was slumped agaist a large rock, holding her face in her hands and weeping. Her sobs reverberated in the canyon, mixing with their foul taunts in a horrible symphony of unpleasantness. He didn't like this one bit. There were three of them. This would be difficult, but he knew what he had to do. He cleared his mind of all thoughts and allowed himself to enter an almost meditative state. Every lesson he had ever learned was at his disposal. He was the embodiment of death, and yet he was at peace. To his surprise, he heard his own voice ring out above all others.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing!?"

The three men spun to face him, their shocked faces bringing a smile to his lips. They each had small blades - more than likely each felt offered ample protection - which would matter little in an actual battle. Jake thought that these men would be better off picking up stones and throwing them at him. They drew their blades all the same, ready for battle, and Jake returned the gesture. The leader of the three spoke up first.

"This is none of your business, whelp. I suggest that you go back to whatever village it is that you came from before you find that you are having trouble keeping your entrails where they currently reside. This does not concern you."

"Yeah, you best get out of 'ere if you know what's for you. I'll gut ya like a fish."

"Our business is with the lady here, not with you boy. Now, get lost!"

Jake's own response surprised him even more than anything else that he could have imagined.

"Leave the lady be, find other business, and I will not be forced to kill any of you. Refuse to follow my orders and none of you will again see the sun set. I may be young, but I warn you not to underestimate me. Many before you have done so, and none of them have lived to tell the tale."

The trio laughed in unison, cackling like madmen. They weren't soldiers, they were errand boys. Three of them had been sent to recover a single helpless female. Their arrogance would be their downfall, along with their utter lack of skill. He wondered how he would kill them, how they would choose to attack him, which one would die first. Jake smiled at his own private thoughts, which quickly brought the laughter to a stop. All three men stared at this young boy facing certain death, smiling a smug little smile of certainty. They were obviously shocked and disgusted, and the leader growled an order in a voice that embodied itself.

"Wipe that grin off your face, cully, while you still have a face to wipe it off of." His face was distorted with rage, brows gathered and lips snarled, rotting teeth revealed from beneath.

Jake replied quickly, "Enough talk then. If you mean to attack me, then get on with it. I don't have all day you know." and then he shot them a full fledged smile. It was a smile that made all of their blood boil. After a long silence the leader finally acted. Pathetically so, but it was a try. Jake would have to give him that much. He simply flipped his blade, grabbed it by the tip, slowly and blatently raised his arm, and let out a little grunt before tensing his muscles and releasing. It was a sloppy throw - had it hit him, it still would have connected hilt first - which Jake easily intercepted and parried, although only causing a minor adjustment in its path forced him to lean slightly to the right to avoid the spinning blade. It made an odd modulating, whistling, humming buzz as it flew past his ear, and a distinct thud as it buried itself in the trunk of a lone spruce tree standing, slightly slanted, behind him. He straightened, spun his blade to the ready, smiled once again, crouching slightly into a defensive position, and spoke in a mocking tone, as one might speak to a child.

"If that's the best that you can do, then you all better just go home right now."

Enraged, and more than a little surprised, all three charged him at once, screaming at the top of their lungs as if they were part of a small army, trying to scare their enemy before their actual size was discovered. This was more to Jake's liking. He was in familiar territory now. He took a deep breath and relaxed his muscles, calming his mind and purifying his spirit. The blade became one with him, and he became one with the universe. Time no longer seemed to matter, it flowed differently to him. It seemed to be less of a line and more of a circle, although he couldn't explain why he felt that way. He just did. The three lumbered ever closer, still a ly distance away though. They were so dedicated, so convinced of their imminent victory. He almost felt bad about what he was about to do. Almost.

With a single swift movement he disarmed the leader of his one remaining weapon, blocked a blow on his left, weapon flying from the thug's hand, and then with a quick change of balance he managed to disarm the thug on his right, sending his blade twirling off into the distance as well, smiling all the while. Moving too quick for them to register, the three continued the attack, not even realising that they no longer held weapons in their hands. With a second movement, so seamlessly executed that one might have even mistaken it for a single motion, he spun and buried his sword, down to the hilt, in the leader's chest. Shocked eyes bulged from their sockets. What must have been meant to be cries of pain came out only as a gurgling moan, choking and sputtering sounds that only a dying man can make moments after discovering that his fate has been sealed, and moments before meeting his maker once again. It didn't take long for his companions to realise what had happened, and after comprehension set in it took even less time for them to raise their hands in the air in surrender and collapsed to to their with a puff of dust, begging for their lives to be spared, as convicted murderers begged for the warden to pardon them as they were carried, blindfolded, to the gallows.

There would be no pardon this time. Fate had decided, and who was he to go against fate? No. Fate hadn't decided what would become of these men, they had done that for themselves. Fate had nothing to do with it, or did it? Jake reprimanded himself for allowing his mind to wander so much. He imagined the look on his old teacher's face as he would repeat over and over again, "Now only comes once, and while you're off thinking about something else the present is flowing by you." Seya was right, enough wasting time. These men probably hoped that Jake's pause meant that he was weighing the pros and cons of letting them go, however they would not be so lucky. Not in this life.

Jake pulled the blade free of the now motionless leader, using a clean part of his victim's blood soaked shirt to remove the gore from the steel, and pointed it at the pair of hooligans who knelt before him, begging for their lives. He imagined that, to a person passing by, it would look something like a brave hero being knighted for his acts of valor. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

"I will not spare your lives. I can not allow for you to live knowing what it was that you were planning on doing to, or with, that young lady." He motioned over his shoulder at the damsel in distress who now looked at him with wide eyes, as a child might appear upon viewing the King for the first time. She was beautiful, the most beautiful creature that he had ever seen, and he now thanked the gods that he did not listen to the voice in his head which had told him to run away. Somehow everything felt right, or as right as it could with a freshly deceased corpse staring blankly up at you from the ground. Perhaps that made it feel even more right. Jake wasn't sure, and he didn't really care. She was alive, and that was all that mattered. The world could end at this very moment and he would be happy, content with his role in the play that we like to call life.

"You will both die, now, but I want you to know something before you go. Listen close now." He gestured with a finger towards them, as if to say "Come here." and they both leaned in eagerly to listen to the final words that they would hear on this plane of existance. He spoke softly and calmly, as a parent might while attempting to soothe an unruly child

"You were wrong, you should never have crossed paths with this woman, and had you not you may have lived to see yet another day, but that is not important right now. What is important is that I forgive you. I cannot speak for her - gods only knows if she will ever forgive you - but I do not hold this against you. Perhaps if we had met under different circumstances we would have broken bread together. Perhaps we may have even become the best of friends, but sadly fate has brought us to this point, in this way, and there is only one path from here on out. I do not wish ill upon anyone, but justice must be served, and injustice must be righted. If you should happen to meet your friend in the clearing at the end of the path, which I'm sure that you will, pass on my message to him. And when you arrive there, may you find peace, love, and justice to greet you, and may it find you well."

With a single fluid movement steel whistled through the air, followed by splashing blood, and completed with a pair of dull thuds as two disembodied heads tumbled to the ground, one landing slightly before the other, both rolling off into the foliage as their bodies slumped to the dirt. Jake's blade dropped from his hands. He fell to his knees, and burst into tears. He wept softly for a short time, the woman that he had saved temporarily forgotten, and only stopped as smooth arms wrapped themselves around his neck. Surprised by this sudden human contact, he reached for his sword, but it was not in his scabbard. He searched the ground with his eyes, but could not find it. Small hands cupped on either side of his chin, lifting his head and turning it straight. Before he realised what was happening, her mouth was against his, their breath entertwined in a blissful moment that seemed to stretch on for eternity. This must be what heaven feels like, Jake thought. He couldn't imagine anything in this world that would ever compare to what he was feeling at this very moment, and decided that it didn't matter. This is the best that it can get, it's all downhill from here.

After somewhere near ten seconds (Although to them both it had felt more like ten years) their lips parted, tendrils of saliva still connecting them as their faces drifted further apart. For a time they only stared into each others' eyes, having no need for conversation. They were meant to find each other. Jake had never believed in soul mates - He thought that it was all a bunch of hooey that poets and musicians had invented to sell their wares - but he could not deny that it existed now. For the first time in his life he felt complete, and it felt . He broke into a grin at the exact moment that she did. They both giggled and embraced again, kissing as only young lovers can. When they had separated for the second time, she looked deep into his eyes and then off towards the path which ran through the mountains. A sudden sense of dread washed through him as he immediately understood. She wanted him to come with her, to join her in the place which she called home, but also to leave the place that he had come to know as home. He couldn't leave his home, but at the same time how could he not? He had found his true love, and in doing so he would never have to feel incomplete again. He gazed wistfully off into the distance, silently saying his farewells to the world that he had known, the life that was but is no more, and then turned back to face the angel that had been placed before him. He smiled at her in eager excitement, and she returned the sentiment.

They joined hands and began walking down the path towards his new life.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 9
~The Last Day~

As Jake opened his eyes an odd mixture of deja vu and forboding flushed through him. He was still in that place between worlds where dreams are remembered but after the perfect sense that they had made only moments before began to slowly fade. He stared blankly at the ceiling above him and blinked as the fog which covered his mind slowly began to clear. He knew that his dream had been sweet, he only wished that he could remember what it had been about. His life had been barren of all things sweet for so long that it pained him to think about it. Sometimes he thought about taking his own life, but Seya's words had always stayed his hands. Seya would hand him a blade, look him dead in the eyes, face void of any emotion, and encourage him to do so. He would tell Jake that if he imagined this life to be a punishment, for him to try to imagine what he would be rewarded with in his next life for such an act. Seya was the one who had first presented him with the notion that perhaps this life was the punishment for a previous life in which he had taken his own, as well as the thought of what a greater punishment might bring. In the end Jake had decided that, however bad this world was, he would rather take his chances with it than risk possible, or further, damnation in another.

Twin thundering booms shuddered the frame of the house, seeming to come from the very house itself, and then as quickly as it had happened all was again silent. Shaken, scared, and yet still curious as to what the noise was - It wasn't an explosion, that was for sure, and it didn't sound like it was a boulder landing either - Jake rose to his feet with a grunt of effort, knees and spine crackling like fireworks, and cautiously shuffled to the door. Rays of sunlight peeked around the frame of the door, a suspended corona of seemingly liquid physicality emanating from behind. Before he even opened the door he knew what lay on the other side. He could feel the presence as surely as he could feel the knotted wood under his bare feet. His hand reached up and turned the knob and he was greeted by a smiling face. He returned the smile.

"I hope I didn't startle you. That wasn't my intention, I can assure you. I saw that you were awake and I wanted to speak with you while I had a chance."

The voice spoke soothingly, directly into his own thoughts, and he once again felt safe. Under the blanket of safety, however, was hidden a sliver of doubt. In the presence's thoughts there was a twinge of something that Jake couldn't quite put his finger on. Was it sadness? Was it fear? Perhaps it was anger? No. It wasn't any of these things, but he was close. He could feel it. And then it was gone. The presence had masked the slipped emotion and now studied Jake to see if he had caught it. Jake tried to appear as if the thought had never reached his mind, but somehow knew that he wasn't succeeding. Jake did the only thing that he could think of doing. He asked a question.

"What's wrong?"

The swirling face sighed, if a congealed mass of pure energy can sigh, and then bloomed into a smile of relief. The smile warmed Jake's heart, but it also chilled him to the bone. A sense of dread swam over him as the soft voice began to speak.

"They're coming. I did the best that I could, but it was not enough. I tried to hold onto the outlying strongholds but I was too weak. It was too for me to do anything. There were..." The voice cracked and trailed off into a mumble. Jake was about to speak up when the silence was broken, "There were women... and children... and... horrors that I would not wish upon anyone, and that I do not care to recall. All of age and able body were recruited into the ranks of their army. They march against us." and then the face was solemn and silent.

Jake had known this already, somehow deep inside he had known for a long time what was to come. It had been tearing at his heart, ripping at his very soul. He was old. By the gods he didn't feel it, but he was old. He had lived long beyond his time, and he sometimes wondered why he hadn't died already. Once when he was young he had been bitten by rattlesnake and had lain, dying, under the gaze of his master. The housekeeper at the time, a lovely young hispanic maiden, had been screaming, sobbing bursts of blubbering nonsense followed by shrilly, nasal inhalations. Her cries slowly faded away to nothing, echoes from a world which no longer mattered. He had seen the light, seen the clearing at the end of the path, had felt the safety and warmth which awaited him there, and felt that it was so close that he need only take one step forward and then everything else would take care of itself. But something inside had told him not to go, that his time had not yet come. As he drew away from the light he saw a scene that would be etched in his memory for all of eternity. The housekeeper whimpered and drew in another shrill breath, nostril whistling slightly. Seya turned to face him, now cradling his limp body in his arms, and spoke words which penetrated to the deepest reaches of his soul like an arrow.

"This one will not die. Do not worry about that, my dear. His spirit is strong. He will not give in easily."

Seya was right about that much, Jake did not die. For whatever reason he lived on. Perhaps there was no reason why he survived so long. Perhaps there was no rhyme or reason to his life at all. Perhaps he had lived all of this time only to die now, frail and old under the blade of his enemies. Not so much frail, but definately old. Looking into the face floating before him filled his heart with something else though, something a little bit more positive. It reminded him of his time in the woods after his exile, of the way he used to hunt and fish, and it reminded him of a path. A path which led... Where? Somewhere. He couldn't remember. But he knew that wherever it was, it was sweet. Bittersweet perhaps, but sweet all the same. The feeling that he was experiencing was love, unbridled and pure.

His thoughts were broken as the gravity of his current situation the face had been hinting at suddenly became all too apparent to him. It loved the people of this city, as deeply and fully as he did, and it certainly didn't want to see any harm come to them. Jake didn't want to see any harm come to them either. If there was something left to be done he would do it. He spoke the only question that could come to mind.

"Why do they try so hard to take our city over? Why do they want to destroy us so badly?"

The face shifted slightly, tiny balls of light undulating and spiraling as it smiled its warming smile once again. It spoke, calm as any voice that has ever been heard by human ears, "There is a simple reason why they want to control this people so badly. You know this reason, even if you do not know that you know. Do you understand?" Jake only stared blankly, "No, of course you don't understand, not yet anyway. But you will. Think of your experience while you were training the peasants of this town. Did you notice anything, say, odd about them?"

Jake didn't even need to think about it, he knew exactly what connection he was supposed to make. He scolded himself for not seeing it earlier. It was their training that was wrong, it had been so easy. In fact it had been too easy. The lowliest farmer and tradesman had taken to combat like a duck takes to water. He knew what he was supposed to see but he felt that something was still missing, the last piece of the puzzle that, once put in place, would reveal which one of the poker playing dogs had the winning hand. The voice chuckled, as if hearing, or seeing, Jake's thoughts. After a brief internal struggle he managed to croak out two words, "They're fighters."

"That's right. They're fighters, and damned ones at that, but it's not by accident that they're so skilled. No sir, not at all. They were made to be fighters."

Silence lingered in the air, a thick penetrating quiet, and Jake tried to come to grips with what, exactly, it all meant. They were made to be fighters? How could you make a person to be a fighter? People were born, not built as one would build a house. You couldn't design a person. It was impossible to determine who someone was going to be before they were born. Wasn't it?

As if in response to his question an image flashed before his eyes. It was that of a dog, and then another, and another. Breed after breed of dog flashed through his mind in a seemingly neverending slide show. The dogs had been bred for a purpose. The owners had watched the behavior of the dogs and then had chosen mates based on a dog's intended purpose. Could that be accomplished with people? Surely it was impossible. The voice once again broke his train of thought.

"Long ago it is said that there was a man who, unbeknownst to his peers, had a fascination with the social habits, and individual personality traits, of the people. He had spent his entire life watching others, always influencing the social patterns of society without the people even knowing, and they eventually grew to love him for it. They came near to worshipping him for it. Relationships that he set up were said to be the happiest marriages that had ever been known in this world. He was a great philosopher and an astronomer and he often contemplated existence deep into the night, sometimes discussing his views with others and, in turn, he expanded his own horizons from their perceptions of life. Many people came to him with questions that they could not answer and, although most of the time he couldn't answer them directly, he would almost always pose a question that, upon deeper reflection, would provide the key to the person's quandary. Gifted young artists carved statues and scenes of his greatness, always showing him with open, accepting arms and a loving glow in his eyes, as if to say "What, me worry?" He wrote many theories in his time. Many of them were published, but there was one of them which was not. It was titled "Human Belief" and was the center of much controversy amongst the scholars who discovered its existence many years after his own death."

The face momentarily paused, seeming to take deep breaths in a very human gesture, and then continued on in the same calm voice as before.

"It stated that human beings were nothing more than pure energy, along with the entire world that we live in, and that we each constantly eminate fields of this energy from our bodies. He hypothesised that these energies were contained around our bodies by the same forces containing the moons around a planet, a planet around a sun, a sun around whatever larger celestial body held it in place. As we interact with others, our energies, be they positive or negative, leave traces of themselves on the people we meet, and stay there until it can all return to the source of everything. He believed that if one made a big enough impression on a large enough number of people during one's life, that one could achieve immortality. And not just immortality in the hypothetical sense either, he envisioned full blown, in your face, I'm a god, bow before my might, fire and brimstone, immortality. Apparently he wasn't fully mistaken, for years after his death people still swore that they felt his presence, felt him guiding the course of their lives, helping them to find their soul mates. In reality he was assuring their survival."

After another small break it continued, seeming to have become drained from the effort of the telling, "After his death he had been set free from his earthly bonds, he was no longer restricted by space and time, and as such saw the scope of free will, the magnitude of choice. He could see the path that these people were heading down, without intervention, and it led only to darkness. It led only to death, and so he continued his passion of life with new purpose in his afterlife. He watched and listened, making note of the strong of mind and body, steering procreation in a direction of his own willing. In time the population had been tended just right as to create a breeding ground for military expertise. The fruits of his labor have become the very people that you have grown to love."

Jake simply stared with awe at the presence floating before him. He had understood everything that had been told to him, but he didn't want to understand. He didn't want to accept the fact that these people were a custom tailored breed of neo-human. As little as he wanted to believe it, it was true all the same. This God had known it, had seen it happen as though he were there. His vision pierced beyond anything Jake could even hope to comprehend, not in this life anyways. Jake wondered what else the being had seen, past or future, and just how much it really knew. As if reading his thoughts the face smiled, chuckling lightly, a gleam of love and happiness in his eyes.

Deep in the very essence of his being Jake felt as if a stake had been driven through his heart, and the face felt it too. The bright smile was replaced with a look of depressed resignation. When it spoke again, the sound was a ghost of its former self. It was a raspy murmer, little more than a whisper.

"Our time is up, as I think you know. The time ahead will be trying, but you will succeed. You have to succeed. The alternative is worse than death. I must leave now, my friend, but do not be afraid; you will know what to do when the time comes." and then the face began to slowly disintegrate, voice trailing off as it went, "Until we meet again, never lose faith..." then the God said something else, but it was too quiet for Jake to hear, and before he could question what it was the face was gone, and he was alone. After a few minutes of standing, transfixed by his inner thoughts, he banished them to the furthest reaches of his mind and turned his attention to what needed to be done. He set off towards nowhere in particular, feeling that he would know the place he was going to when he reached it, and that this direction just felt to be the right one to head in.

His chosen path had led him deeper into the common quarters, away from the grind and moan of the industrial district. Statues and other monuments stood sporadically on the edges of the path, a loving tribute to the beauty of life. He stopped at a well for a drink of water and to splash a little of it on his face, hoping to clear his mind a bit, and then continued on to a nearby temple. After praying a little prayer for the well-being of the people around him he began to wander again, starting to question exactly what it was that he was doing and where he thought that he was going. He stopped at a cart selling haunches of meat and strolled along tearing pieces off and chewing them as he walked. He was just about to give up and head off to a nearby tavern to get a mug of ale when a voice rung out from behind him. He knew who it was before he even turned around. It was a voice that he had made a note of the night before. The young man's face looked flushed, as if he had been running for hours. Jake guessed that he was just out of shape. The man reached him, bent over with his hands on his knees for support, panting and wheezing, trying to talk but always just coming up short of breath. After a couple of minutes he was finally able to speak.

"Jeez man, am I glad that I found you. I really need to talk to you about what we were doing last night. You know? With the swords and all that? Well, I don't know what you did to me but I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop thinking about fighting, and that just isn't like me, man. There's just something in the back of my mind saying that something's coming. I don't know if I'm crazy or what, but I hope that I'm not."

Jake smiled at the young man, probably in his mid twenties, and let out a soft chuckle. For some reason he was reminded so strongly of himself at a younger age that he couldn't help but laugh. So full of life, as he was himself before time had taken its toll on his mind and body. The young man was eager to fight. That was . He felt that something was coming. That was even better. Jake knew that they were somehow connected, meant to meet one another, that their fate was intertwined. He would depend on him with his life before the day was up, that much was for sure.

"You are perceptive, I'll give you that much..." Jake paused, realising that he did not know the young man's name. Seeming to read his mind, the man replied, "Duncan, my name is Duncan."

Jake smiled once again and then continued, "Duncan, you may call me Jake." extending his free hand for a brisk shake, and then returning it to his side. His eyes drifted from the young man and found themselves searching the mountains and the sky for any sign of war. He found none and, for the moment, was comforted by that. That comfort, however, did not last long.

Before Jake was able to continue with his conversation, and before either was able to fully comprehend what was happening, a horn blasted in the distance and was answered by a deafening roar, one that Jake recognized all too well. He had expected them to attack under the cover of darkness so surely - that was how they had always attacked - that he had never even considered an attack in broad daylight as a possibility. The things that you never plan for always seem to have a way of coming to pass. Seya had known this to be true, and had tried to teach it well to his student. Apparently he had not taught it well enough, for now Jake found his home under the one threat that he had not even imagined. That was the past, his thoughts needed to be on the present now. The city would be under siege within two hours, if they were lucky, and they would need every last moment to prepare.

Jake glanced at Duncan, their eyes sharing parallel emotions, and a single thought passed between them. It was one which was full of hope, and yet wrought with sadness and despair at the same time. This battle would end tonight, one way or the other, and there was no place to run and hide. They would have to fight, and kill, many people before the sun set. Many of them would be innocents, perhaps even relatives of some. Jake prayed that their spirits would find their way to the clearing at the end of the path, and that once they reached it they would be greeted by the smiling faces of their fathers. He only hoped that he would not be greeted by the face of his own father.

It had begun.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 10
~Battle for Freedom~

I

Thunder rumbled across the hills. Lightning bolts crashed into nearby mountain peaks, setting trees and shrubs, growing freely there, alight, along with the small animals that had been seeking shelter beneath. The sky began to dim as dark clouds amassed overhead. Both Jake and Duncan stood transfixed, wondering what they should do first. The general populace had become aware of their situation, to a degree at least, and ran aimlessly from building to building, from person to person, arms flailing as they stopped momentarily to exchange panicked shouts with one another, quickly continuing along their destinationless route. Jake immediately thought of the way that chickens would run as children chased them, darting left and right at random, and, despite the seriousness of the situation, he had to struggle to stifle a laugh. Or perhaps it was only because the seriousness of the situation that he found the scene to be so funny. Looking over he saw that Duncan was feeling much the same way, and also that the young man was doing a better job of containing it. As their eyes met they shared a brief look of serious contemplation, and then they both completely lost it. Doubled over with laughter, holding on to each other for support, and gasping for breath they struggled to regain their composure. This was no time for fun and games, and yet here they were. Jake couldn't remember the last time that he had laughed so freely, or that he had felt so about such a potentially bad situation, and took this as a omen. He decided that it was a very omen, indeed.

Or perhaps it was a very bad one.

Was he falling apart? Was his mind going to split again, as it had before? Was this fit of uncontrollable laughter simply a precursor to his break, or was he just trying to ease his nerves? Maybe it was nothing. He hoped that it was nothing, hoped and prayed to all of the Gods that ever were. There was far too much to do, and far too little time to do it in, to have his mind wandering right now. Had Seya still been alive Jake would have undoubtedly been struck upside his head, and it wouldn't have been when you were expecting it. It was never when you were expecting it. Seya had a way of enforcing lessons at the opportune moment, ensuring their permanent placement in one's memory. Time was of the essence. They would have to move quickly. A short glance at Duncan confirmed that they were, once again, sharing the same thoughts. Neither knew what they were supposed to do, but they both knew that, whatever it was, they would have to do it fast. Without a pause they sprung into action.

Running from person to person they attempted to reach the panicked peasants, shaking them gently and speaking calmly to them, but most of them would only stop momentarily, glazed eyes bulging blankly and gaping mouths hung wide, before they began screaming again and proceeded to aimlessly wander the streets in an almost comical display. They zigged and zagged, ran in little circles, bumped into each other, screamed, and then ran away again. Jake couldn't believe that the enemy's tactics had worked so well. How could a simple horn blast and their beast roaring have such an effect on them? He would have hoped for them to be smarter than that. The beast had attacked at least a hundred times before, and everyone knew how easy it was to take down from the safety of the walls. Sometimes it was safe, anyways, unless it reached the defenses and you happened to be in the small group of people that it managed to kill. One had to feel bad for them, and for their families as they grieved their losses. There was always so much death, on both sides, and for what? In the end what did it all amount to?

Nothing. Just forget about it. It doesn't mean anything right now. But it did mean something. Deep down inside himself Jake began to feel, and realized that he had always felt, that the battle was fruitless. All that he was able to do was to defend his people to keep them alive, but in doing so he was forced to kill others. He was forced to trade life for death on a near-daily basis. They were all human beings, and each death pained him deeper than he, or anyone anyone else for that matter, would have ever expected. At the same time, though, he loved the fight and he could not imagine his life without war. Suddenly he felt disgusted with himself and with what he had become. He had almost given up all hope of the war ever ending and felt like he was drowning in his own despair. Nothing matters anymore, let them come and enslave us all, maybe I'll go out fighting. A swift backhand connected with his chest and nearly knocked the wind out of him.

"Wake up, man. What the hell is wrong with you? Can't you hear that? Can't you feel it?! I've never felt anything like it before. It's beautiful!"

At first Jake wasn't quite sure what Duncan was talking about, but once his mind had returned to the present situation he could feel the familiar sensation. It was what their God had used on him after his oh so enjoyable flight and his rather more comfortable landing. "Oh thank God!" he shouted, their eyes met for a brief moment in a look of amused surprise, and then they were both doubled over with laughter again. The masses obviously felt it too and were calmed more and more by the second. Many of the people began laughing as well, and before long everyone was content once again. Some folks got back to what they were doing before all of the hullabaloo began, while others just held each other in their arms and laughed and laughed and laughed.

In the span of a few moments the world had changed. What once felt impossible and far out of reach now seemed to actually be within their grasp. They could win the war, it was possible, but they couldn't do it alone. To Jake's surprise it was Duncan who spoke his thoughts aloud.

Duncan shouted, "We gotta move, man. Let's go!" and with that he began running towards the residential district. Jake, pausing for only a moment, quickly followed suit. As they ran past a temple where a group of old washer women had gathered for a mid-morning prayer, they heard cheers of encouragement. Somehow that small band of maids had picked up on the pair's thoughts which now shone clearly on all of their faces. It seemed that hope was contagious. There was that much to be thankful for, at least. It may just be the little things that would turn the tide of this war.

II

Jake's heart raced as he plodded down the path, pebbles crunching under his boots and the wind blowing through his tufts of wispy white hair. Each heartbeat resonated inside his skull, pushing against the backs of his eyeballs with a gentle thump thump thump. His lungs rattled and wheezed with the phlegm of old age. He ripped chunks of meat from the bone and quickly swallowed them as he ran, knowing that he would need the strength they brought him in the battle. He drew quick, deep breaths as he ran on and was forced to a sudden stop when a piece of that meat became lodged in his throat, effectively cutting off his air supply. He fell to his hands and knees, haunch of meat tumbling off to the side of the path, for a moment imagining that this would be his end. He would choke to death on this cobblestone path, fields of grain to either side glowing in the morning sun like stalks of gold, and his people would be lost. Duncan had heart, and he was a fairly fighter, but he would not be able to take care of things on his own. He meant well, but without Jake to instruct him failure was certain.

Stars began to pass before his vision. Tiny white dots fell as snowflakes do, only these snowflakes fell in any direction that they pleased. The pressure in his head grew and the gentle thump thump thump of his heart became an almost unbearable booming. Thinking became difficult, and he found his mind resorting to more primitive forms of perception. Words turned to emotions. He was afraid, sad, and undeniably angry. The anger was the feeling that overpowered all of the rest. Dark clouds began to pass over his eyes, and the light pebbles between the cobbles of the path began to dance and jig as if they were all having a party. In jake's mind he saw them celebrating, but what they were celebrating he didn't know. Perhaps they were celebrating his impending death, chanting in unison for him to get it over with and let his arms buckle. He felt something crawl onto, and move slowly across, his hand and an image of an army of ants, all waiting patiently in formation for their next year's worth of food to settle down so that they could get to work on dismantling it, flashed through his mind. From somewhere far in the distance, sounding like it was coming from behind a crashing waterfall, or perhaps from atop a herd of stampeding cattle, came a muffled mumbling. He didn't know what it was and, in all honesty, he didn't really care at the moment. His muscles ached, his brain screamed for air, his heartbeat became irregular and began to slow. His arms began to twitch and shudder, his upper body bobbing in a spastic up and down motion along with them. The pain started to fade, as did everything else, and his anger began to turn into acceptance. This was the end. It wasn't how he had imagined it, but it would have to do.

He barely felt the strong blow connect with his back, didn't notice that his arms had given way and that his face had joined in the pebbles' party, and he never felt the meat as it dislodged itself and came to its final resting place in the grain to the left of the path. His brain got the message that the obstruction was clear and, without any conscious help from Jake, passed on the signal to the lungs that they could start breathing again. Gradually the booming returned to its former thumping, the dark clouds passing before his vision began to dissipate, and somehow he managed to turn himself onto his back where he lay staring up at the beautiful blue sky, struggling to catch his breath, as a few fluffy white clouds peacefully floated along. A shape blocked out his vision of the clouds and began to emit that odd muffled mumbling that he had heard before, but it was slowly becoming clear to him that what he was hearing was, in fact, words, and that Duncan was the one who was speaking them.

Tears streamed down Duncan's cheeks and dripped from his chin to the path below. He was talking in sobbing bursts, getting about half of a word out before sniffling back his tears and trying again. After a dozen or so attempts he was finally able to articulate his words properly. Jake didn't need to hear the words, though. The look in Duncan's eyes told him all that he needed to know.

"Can you hear me?! Please God, say that you're okay!" Duncan blurted out. He reached down, placed both hands and Jake's shoulders, and gently shook him. Jake smiled the best that he could, panting like a dog left outside without water on a hot summer afternoon. Somehow he managed to laugh, and although it was a raspy, sickly sounding laugh it made Duncan's face light up with a smile. Without even thinking about it Duncan lifted Jake's shoulders from the path, cradled his head in his arm, and hugged him as hard as he felt was safe. Jake hugged him right back, realizing that Duncan was the closest thing that he had had to a family in years, perhaps decades even.

A small child rounded the corner, coming into sight from behind the fields, and continued on walking down the path towards them. She seemed to be preoccupied with whatever was in the basket that she was carrying and didn't notice the two men laying on the path in front of her until she had reached them. She looked down first at Jake, then at Duncan, and then back to Jake. A look of worry passed over her face and she spoke in a tiny, frightened voice.

"Are you okay, mister?"

Jake gazed up into the little girl's eyes, smiling the best that he could, and told her that he was fine. He said that he had just tripped, and that there was nothing to worry about. The child's eyes lit up as a smiled broadened across her face. She giggled a little, reached down and gently patted Jake's balding head, and said only, "." before continuing on down the path as if nothing had happened, attention returning to the basket that she carried.

They both watched silently as she walked away down the path, rounded the corner, passing out of sight, and then they were alone again. Jake's breathing was more controlled now, and apart from it the only sound to be heard was the rustle of the wind as it blew through the fields of grain in gentle waves. The silence was broken when, in the distance, a bird cawed, a cow mooed, a horse whinnied, and a goat bleated, in nearly perfect unison. It was as if the entire world had been holding its breath and was releasing a sigh of relief.

"Alright, that's enough drama for right now. I'm getting too old for this. Let's get moving before it's too late, if it isn't already." Jake croaked, shifting his weight one way and then another in an attempt to get back to his feet. Duncan rose and took Jake's hand to help him up, grimacing as Jake's old bones creaked and groaned, emitting soft popping and crunching noises. Jake stood and slowly straightened his back, looking towards the sky as his spine let out a ghastly series of its own pops. At first his face flushed with a look of extreme pain, and then was replaced by a look of complete satisfaction.

"That feels !" Jake chuckled, beginning to hobble down the path towards the residential disctrict, hoping that the pain in his joints would subside and that no permanent damage had been done in the fall. He had enough to worry about right now, and didn't need his being a frail old coot thrown into the mix as well. Duncan followed suit and this time they both walked. They had had enough excitement for one day, and there would be plenty more to come before it was all over.

III

Jake had always loved the way his ancestors had designed the city. When the crops were high walking down the paths was like passing through into a whole new world; it was almost a cleansing of the spirit. One could feel the living grain surrounding them and Jake was greatly comforted by that feeling. It seemed to whisper and sing all around him, dancing in the wind, bowing and gossiping with itself. A gentle breeze blew through and it waxed and waned in softly rolling waves, bringing a smile to Jake's face and a feeling of peace to his heart.

Jake had nearly caught his breath now and they felt confident enough to up the speed to a brisk walk. As they walked they talked. Duncan told him about his family, his mother and father and his younger brother. He said that his father had bit it in a mine collapse when he was twelve, right before his little brother had been born. His mother had named the boy Conner, the name of his father's father. She had nobody to help her support her two children so she had worked in the fields day and night. When he was fourteen he had to drop out of school to raise Conner and by the time he was sixteen he began to doubt his sanity. Jake told him of his own time spent working in the mines and the friends that he had lost to collapses. It was a hard life but a necessity in these times of war. The words felt harsh on his own lips and no sooner had they been spoken did Jake begin to wonder if he really believed it.

Duncan remembered nights when his mother had come home nearly at the crack of dawn, hands raw and bloody from the work, and would cry herself to sleep in the room next to his own. She would sob for what seemed to be, to a young man in his mid-teens anyways, an eternity. Some nights sleep never found her and she would weep straight through until it was time for her to go back out to the fields. He had tried confronting her, asking her why she would kill herself so slowly for so little a reward, but she only smiled and told young Duncan that she wanted him and his brother to have a chance at a better life than she had been given, and that hard work was the only way that they would be afforded such luxuries in these tough times. She said that she would drop dead, heart burst in her chest, before she would see them out there working in the fields. For this Duncan respected, and loved, her more than he would ever be able to express in words.

Years passed, as they tend to do, and Duncan grew to be a strapping young man. Conner was a sponge. He absorbed anything and everything that was taught to him. He excelled in every subject and before long there was nothing more that his brother could teach him. They both grew restless to see the world at large, but at the same time they both knew that their mother needed them more than she would let on. In most families of the time children did little actual work. They spent their hours playing with friends in the nurseries or skipping aimlessly down the paths while their parents toiled day after day in back-breaking labor. Meals were prepared by the adults, chickens were chased by the children, and the paths were hobbled down by the old folks. Everyone was happy, except for Duncan and Conner. Their young minds were awash with the stress and turmoil usually reserved for rulers of kingdoms or the old and decrepit. They were forced to grow up faster than any child should. There were nights that, save their impromptu experimentations with cooking, there was little or no actual food to be found. There were many nights that they had to cook for their mother, and she had always faked a smile as she told them that the meals that they had prepared for her were wonderful. She had a way of making them feel better, and never once did she complain about her lot in life.

One day Duncan had the idea to surprise their mother by visiting her in the fields. Conner filled a skin with water drawn from a nearby well and Duncan brought along a loaf of bread that he had baked himself, the recipe taught to him by an elderly fellow that the local children lovingly called The Old Codger. He was well liked by all of the adults as well and was always available to flash a toothless smile your way. Duncan thought that the bread he had made was a delight and hoped that his mother would enjoy his own attempt as much as she had savored The Old Codger's masterpieces. As they walked down the path leading them towards the fields that their mother worked in they joked and giggled as any ordinary children would. Sadly, this last scrap of innocence would be short lived.

They passed the granaries and, not seeing their mother there, continued on to the fields. As they grew nearer they began to hear shouts and muffled cries. At first they ignored the ruckus, figuring that it was just the general hustle and bustle of a large city, but before long they both recognized the cries for what they were and the bread and water which they had carried became unimportant. They were dropped to the ground and there they stayed, forgotten until later years when the boys' young minds had matured enough to truly understand the events of that day. They reached the source of the wailing just in time to see a trio of ruffians fleeing from them. They began to follow suit but quickly broke the chase off when a pathetic voice called them by name. Before they even saw where the voice had come from, they knew what to expect. All of the puzzle pieces fell into place and tears streamed down both of their cheeks as they slowly made their way into the high grain. They were expecting the worst, but nothing that they could have imagined would have prepared them for what they found there.

Their mother had been beaten and she lay bruised and bleeding amidst the stalks of grain. Splatters of viscus blood dripped from the leaves and were quickly absorbed by the soil. Duncan silently cursed the greedy earth for drinking his mother's essence so readily and wondered what sort of God would allow something like this to happen to somebody so dear to him. He began to question if he could even believe in such a cruel being, but before he had time to continue down this train of thought any further his attention was brought back to his mother as she choked and coughed up blood with a disgusting gurgling noise. His stomach wretched and heaved, teetering on the edge of all-out nausea. Only through sheer will power did he manage to stay the contents of his stomach, little as they were, and if only for the time being.

They both knew three things. That they had to get their mother home, find her a doctor, and that they needed to act fast. She had already lost a lot of blood and she was losing more every moment that they waited. As they took her arms and cradled them over their shoulders, supporting her weight as well as they could, she let out a blood-curdling scream. Several nearby workers froze in place, staring at the two young boys who were hurting this woman enough for her to scream bloody murder, and then promptly dissapeared, wanting nothing more to do with the situation. Duncan thought how that was just like them, greedy peons always looking for a helping hand but never willing to lend one when it was needed. He silently cursed them too, as well as the trio who had done this to his beloved mother in the first place. Might as well cover all the bases while you're at it. Kill two birds with one stone, as the old saying goes.

Their journey home was more pleasant than their discovery of their mother, but not by much. They had managed to slow the bleeding but there was still a visible trail of blood behind them. They drew more than a few dirty looks from the washer-women and religious fanatics. One person, a filth-caked beggar by the looks of him, actually spat on Duncan and cursed both him and his brother for being inhuman monsters. Although Duncan wanted nothing more than to stop and bash the fool's teeth in for having the gall to spit on them, he had more important things to take care of at the moment. He settled on giving the beggar a warning, telling him that if he ever saw him within the city walls again that he would allow him the privilege of seeing what his innards looked like spread across the floor before him. The color ran from the beggar's face and he turned and began to run. Apparently he took the threat seriously, as Duncan never did see him again. This was probably better for the both of them, though. Duncan didn't think that he could have really lived up to his threat.

As they neared their house, and as people began to recognize them, the questions started flowing. What happened to her, who did it, why would anyone do something like that, wasn't there any justice in this world? Gobble, gobble, gobble. They just kept coming, and not a one of them asking what, if anything, they could do to help her. Duncan silently cursed them as well and realized that he had cursed more people on this day than he had in the whole of his life up until this point. With this thought the last vestiges of his childhood fell away, as a snake sheds it skin once it has outgrown it. He released his final breath of childhood in a soft sigh. The peasants gathered around seemed to feel the change in him because the questions simply stopped coming. Some people slowly trailed off before reaching the end of their question, some stopped cold in mid sentence. Finally one asked if they should get a doctor and Duncan immediately told them that yes, they should get a doctor and that yes, they should hurry. The crowd split and formed a path leading straight to Duncan's home as the sumaritan ran to get medical help. They managed to get the door open - Duncan was amazed yet again that, with easily two dozen people standing around gawking, not a one of them could open the door for them - and finally got her inside and laying on the soft mattress. The crowd began to push their way in but with a single glaring look Conner turned them all around and once they were outside where they belonged he slammed the door shut with a resounding boom.

Before long - Time is a relative thing, you see. Although they only had to wait a couple of minutes, to them, that short span of time felt like an eternity - the villager who had gone for help returned with the local doctor in tow. After a single look at the bruised and beaten woman all of the color was drained from the doctor's face. He looked as if he had seen a ghost, and after later reflection both Duncan and Conner agreed that this was very close to the truth. He told them that their mother was bleeding internally and that he would need to operate if she was to live. He said that there was precious little time and that he would need the boys to be his assistants. He took a pair of scissors from his bag and cut the clothes from their mother. They stared in shock, oblivious to him as he removed a wrapped up sheet containing his tools and unraveled it upon the side table. Had they not known her, they never would have believed the lumpy mass of tissue before them to be human. Only her somewhat recognizable face and semi-intelligable mumblings gave hint to her humanity. There were lumps where no lump should be, bends where limbs had no godly right to bend, and her skin looked the color of vomit. Vomit and blood. The doctor chose a scalpel from his array of instruments, removed a white towel from his bag, and began to cut open the woman's stomach. Very quickly the towel became red and the woman began to scream. You had to think of her as the woman at this point because if you started thinking of her as your mother...

Jake realized that Duncan had stopped walking as well as talking and turned around to see how he was doing. Duncan stood a couple of feet behind, staring off into the distance, looking at nothing in particular. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he was trembling slightly. He kept muttering something under his breath that Jake couldn't quite hear and when questioned about it he simply said, "I don't want to talk about it." and on the subject he would say nothing more. They walked almost the rest of the distance in silence, listening to the sounds of nature (as well as the slight rumble - which they had both become quite used to by now - that could only be made by the synchronized marching of many, many boots) and barely even looking at each other. As they rounded a corner leading into one of the lower-class housing districts Duncan put his hand gently on Jake's shoulder and asked him what he thought. Jake turned to face him and spoke softly, "You are what you are. We each have our own trials that we must face in our own time. What is past is gone, what is future shall always be left unseen. What is now is all that truly is. You are here, and beyond that is not my place to say. The rest you must decide for yourself." Jake smiled and turned to continue walking.

"That's it? That's all you can say?!" Duncan shouted. As Jake turned around his face was still held in the exact same smile. He spoke again, just as softly as before, "Whether or not you like it, that is the way things are. Or at least that's the way I see them. If you don't agree with what I think, well, maybe you should just figure out what you think for yourself then." and he turned back and continued walking. Duncan stood, dumbfounded, in the middle of the path for a few seconds before jogging to catch up. When he did catch up he punched Jake playfully on the shoulder, causing him to turn around and raise his guard to prepare to defend against an attack that would never come, and he never faltered a step in the process. Duncan thought that he was still pretty fine tuned for such an old man. Duncan smiled and, after the inital rush of shock had passed, Jake smiled back. They walked down the street and turned into Duncan's yard with smiles on their faces. A familiar middle-aged woman sat in a rocking chair on the porch, beaming a smile of her own right back at them.

She rose to her feet to greet them.

IV

The sun shone brightly in the afternoon sky. Shadows fell across the porch and down the steps in jaunted angles. Birds chirped happily from trees in the distance. Rabbits hopped playfully through a nearby field. The breeze blew softly across the land. In this moment all was right with the world. Today was a day, that much was for sure. Come what may today was a day.

For a long moment the three stood in silence, enjoying the beauty of the world. All of their previous woes were forgotten. They felt like children again. In this blissful state of ignorance anything seemed possible. They felt as if their wildest dreams could be fulfilled if only they wished it. A simple nod of the head and a flick of the wrist and off to the exotic island they'd go. Nobody to worry about protecting, nobody to worry about being protected from. Peace. A life in peace. A life without war. Of course it was impossible but it never hurt to dream.

Their minds returned to the world at hand. They had all shared the same thoughts of war and wore the weight of it on their faces. The sense of invincibility was gone. Each of them knew what they were up against and didn't like their odds much at all. They had five hundred people on their side - maybe as many as one thousand - but how many the enemy had was the real question. One thousand? Two thousand? Ten? Twenty? Jake refused to think like that. He refused to allow himself to think that all had been lost before the battle had even begun. He forced himself to repeat in his mind that no matter how big the force was that he would die defending his people if that was what fate had dictated for him. He hoped that it wouldn't come to that but he was willing to give everything that he had to defend these people. These people were everything that he had. It had taken him a long time to realize this but he had finally figured it out in just the past few days.

From inside the house came a voice, followed by muffled footsteps slapping against the wooden boards below. A young boy burst through the door and paused on the porch for a moment to look out into the yard and then jumped clear down the steps and ran straight into his brother's open arms. Duncan picked Conner up and gave him a great big bear hug, as was to his liking. Conner laughed like a madman and before long he had everyone joining in. They all laughed until their sides hurt. Duncan set his little brother down and the touching moment was over all too quickly as they stood wiping tears from the corners of their eyes, chuckling out the last of the laughter. There was serious business to attend to. As Duncan ruffled his hand through Conner's hair the woman gestured towards the door and spoke in a serene tone.

"We got some planning to do. We best get to gettin' while there's still time for that sort of thing."

Jake nodded his agreement and began to mount the steps leading up to the porch when a deafening roar split through his brain like a bolt of lightning. The ground itself shook with the force of it. It was so close that it sounded as if it were right outside of the walls. The roar was followed by the resounding uniform cheer of a massive number of warriors. The town's defensive warning bells began to toll and the streets were quickly flooded with peasants, all running to and fro with an aimless, confused look in their eyes. It was too late. The army had arrived. As if in response to this thought a barrage of arrows passed over the wall, followed shortly by a second barrage, and made their way up to their zenith before curving back down directly towards the groups of villagers. Jake had only one thought and shouted it as fast and as loud as he could manage.

"To me!"

Duncan understood immediately and took Conner by the hand, almost pulling his arm out of the socket as he raced towards the relative safety of the house. As Duncan closed the gap between him and Jake to about five feet or so he was nearly pulled over backwards as Conner jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding an arrow by the width of his thumb. As they regained their balance and began to turn to continue running a second barrage of arrows was making its way towards them. Duncan thought that if they could only make it the last five feet before the arrows hit they would be safe.

Conner's hand slipped from Duncan's grip and Duncan spun around, no longer caring about the arrows raining down all around him. Conner was laying on his back on the ground with a feathered shaft of wood protruding from his chest. A small red puddle began forming beneath the boy. Duncan nearly dove to his brother's side, gasping for breath in choked sobs. He took Conner's hand in his own and looked into his eyes. As tears streamed down both their cheeks a sudden realization hit him. His littler brother was going to die. He blamed God, he blamed society, he blamed himself. How could he live on in a world that would allow a child to die in such a way? How could he believe in a God that would allow something like this to happen?

His train of thought was broken by a sharp pain in his right bicep. Looking down he saw a triangular point of steel set in a splintering wood shaft sticking from his arm, blood oozing freely from the fresh wound. For a moment he could think of nothing else but his brother, but soon after the initial shock had worn off and the extent of the pain he was in finally hit him a blood curdling cry was let forth from his lips that could be heard echoing down the streets and alleyways. A small hand reached up and cupped his left cheek leaving streaked prints of blood from his eye to his jawline. Looking down into his brothers eyes he felt at peace. Conner spoke in choked gasps, blood gurgling in his throat before being spit out and running down the sides of his mouth.

"Don't worry Duncan. We'll be fine, there's nothing to be a-scared of." Conner broke out in a fit of coughing, tiny blobs and tendrils of blood trailing through the air. Some stuck on Duncan's face but he didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore except Conner. The boy regained his composure and continued after a couple of gasping breaths. "This isn't the end Duncan. This is just the beginning. We all do what we are meant to, no more and no less. You still have things to do here." His eyes began to become hazy and glazed and seemed to focus on things unseen by the waking eye."Duncan? Are you there? I can't see you Duncan."

"I'm here little man," Duncan replied, "I'm here with you. You're not alone" Conner smiled up at his big brother and slightly nodded his head. "I know that now. We're never alone, the love is always there. It's always there. -bye brother. I love you." Duncan was weeping freely now and he choked back sobs long enough to tell his little brother that he loved him too. Conner's breathing became erratic and he gasped for breaths in sudden bursts, each one of which Duncan was sure would be his last. After a short struggle Conner choked out two more sentences, his last in this world.

"I'll see you on the other side, brother. We'll be waiting in the clearing at the end of the path." He smiled, a beautiful smile so alive and full of love that it warmed Duncan's aching heart, and patted Duncan's leg softly. His eyes rolled around, his eyelids fluttered and then stopped halfway open and his smile slowly faded. As his head lolled to one side Duncan knew that he was dead. His little brother was gone. A coldness fell over his mind and a sudden silent knowing washed through him. Without a thought he scooped Conner's lifeless body up and began stumbling towards the house. The world seemed to be rocking back and forth as the deck of a large boat at sea does and stars began to fall before his vision. He managed to get to the steps and as he raised his foot to go up an arrow pierced through his left calf and a new pain flared through his body. He was going down - going down hard - and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Before he knew it Jake was there supporting him. He was gently laid on the patio floor and Conner was laid beside him, peacefully staring blindly up into nothingness. After a short struggle Duncan blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"You have to save them, man. I can't fight like this. I'm gonna be fighting enough just to hold onto my own life. It's up to you now. Rally them, man. You rally those troops and you kick these bastards' asses for me! Now go, while there's still time!"

Jake paused for a brief moment that seemed to stretch into eternity and took it all in. Now, more than ever, he had a clear image of what he was fighting for, what he had been fighting for all along. He somehow managed a smile and then jumped down the steps before racing up the street as fast as his old legs would carry him. Buildings flew by in a blur as tears streaked down his cheeks. A sudden sense of forboding washed through him. God had forsaken him. God had allowed things to go so terribly wrong. Maybe they were wrong to ever worship such an imperfect being in the first place. He barely registered a crunching rumble in the distance and only fully realized what was happening once the cries began to reach his ears. The wall had been breached and the enemy's armies were swarming into the city. He was too late. With a sharp turn he headed straight towards the source of the sound. As he saw glinting steel in the distance he drew his sword and prepared his mind for the battle that was to come.

Rushing headlong into the oncoming troops he hacked and slashed at anything that moved. Wave after wave came rushing at him and his sword cut through them in a fluid dance of death. Ten, twenty, thirty men were felled by his blade. Some were nearly as old as he was and some were nearly as young as Conner had been. In the end it made no difference of their age. They were slain all the same. The attacking soldiers were forced to split up and go around as bodies began to pile up, blocking their unhindered attack. Jake cut them down as easily as he had defeated the rest. As he landed his hundredth killing blow he was dismayed to see that a squad of archers was setting up just inside the city walls for another volley. He killed with no thought, no remorse for the lives he was taking. God had left him and now it was up to him - and him alone - to save his people.

In his mind's eye he saw the smiling face of of his God, although it was no longer smiling. It was twisted and contorted in a grimace of supreme pain. It seemed to flicker and waver for a moment before exploding into a shower of a million balls of light and slowly fading into nothingness. The presence that he had felt was gone. Their God had forsaken them and they had forsaken it. Without belief it had ceased to exist. From behind the walls the giant creature roared in triumph. It was aware of their almost certain victory. Jake felt lost and alone and continued to mindlessly kill anything that moved on him, shrouded by the cold veil of battle. He knew that he was going to die sooner or later and only wanted to kill as many as he could before they took him down. As the archers let loose their first volley of arrows he realized that a small group of troops had flanked him and were sneaking up behind him but as he whirled around to deal with them he knew that he was too late. An armored fist connected with the back of his head and he slowly fell towards the ground like a tree felled by a lumberjack. Stars danced before his vision as tendrils of blackness seeped in from the sides.

As he crashed to the earth in a plume of dust the sounds of combat weakened, his vision faded and for a time darkness was all that he knew.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Book II
Paradise Lost.

"I shut my eyes and turn'd them on my heart.
As a man calls for wine before he fights,
I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights,
Ere fitly I could hope to play my part.
Think first, fight afterwards, the soldier's art:
One taste of the old time sets all to rights."

~Robert Browning~


Chapter 1
~Darkness~

The screams of a thousand slain innocents echoed through Jake's mind. Glimpses of their faces flashed before his eyes. Cries of death and despair echoed through the night. There were no stars in the sky. Clouds blocked the heavens from view. The light of countless raging fires reflected off of the clouds, making them seem to be a slowly rolling, undulating pillow of liquid fire. What Jake took at first to be snow fluttered down all around him. He thought it was too hot outside, and it was the wrong time of the year, for snow. Only upon catching a flake and rubbing it between his fingers did he realize that it was ash. He wondered whether the ash had come from burning wood or from human flesh and wretched dryly as he tried to wipe the gray filth from his fingers. No matter what he did it would not come off. No matter how much he washed his hands they would never be clean. These cursed dealers of death were stained with the blood of many. It had all been washed off but it would never be completely gone. Jake could still smell it. He could still feel it. It would haunt him for all eternity.

A soft dripping sound began to echo from the distance. Jake wondered where the sound was coming from but he could see no discernable source. As he stood to investigate the ground began to warble and shimmer beneath his feet. The buildings were momentarily transparent and then quickly returned. Jake found that even in their invisibility they still maintained substance. He could see a family of rats scurrying inside of a wall as the house faded in and out of existence. Suddenly the ground below his feet was no longer solid. He watched as the world fell away from him and as his freefall started gaining speed he could see nothing but darkness. He could hear moaning and sobbing. Cries of both men and women, young and old, reverberated through the sea of nothingness. It sounded to him like people being tortured. It sounded like pain and misery.

Slowly the sounds began to solidify and it wasn't long before Jake realized that it had all been a dream. It had all been a dream except for the screams. Now that he was awake the screams were still there. Now they weren't as vague as they had been and he could hear every minute detail. There were women and children as well as men. The bastards were torturing children. Jake felt on the verge of tears but he held them back. That's what they wanted. They wanted to break him down but he wouldn't let them. He had let them get the best of him once and he wasn't planning on doing it again.

In his mind he heard voices that he recognized. Voices from his past that haunted his waking thoughts sent shivers up his spine. The voices were familiar but he couldn't place where he knew them from. There were things locked behind doors inside his mind that should never be opened but Jake feared those doors would not remain closed forever.

As if triggered by this thought, the image of the door in his mind began to break. Cracks spidered from the lock outwards and soon the steel was creaking and groaning, held together by Jake's will alone. The effort was too taxing in his current state and the image of the door began to fade. He knew that he couldn't hold it together any more but he did not want to face the horrors held within. He didn't want to face the past but he could prevent it no longer. As his consciousness began to slip away from him the door shattered and his final glimpse before fading to darkness was her face. Her beautiful face with her flowing blonde hair falling over her shoulders like waterfalls of gold as she smiled at him.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 2
~Down the Path~

Her name was Susan. She had told him that shortly after they began walking. By now the three thugs seemed a distant memory. After a brief discussion consisting of him asking why they would be after her and her saying that she had no idea, they spoke no more on the subject. She instead told him of her home. She told him of her family and the farm she had grown up on. She told him of her horses and the stables where she would feed, brush and take care of them. She had no brothers or sisters and so the horses were like siblings to her. They heard her deepest and darkest secrets. She told them things that she dared not tell anyone else. She loved those horses as much as she loved her parents.

One night she heard a commotion in the stables and had gone out to investigate. When she reached the door she timidly peeked in, pitchfork clutched so tightly in her trembling hands that her knuckles had turned white, and saw a sight that forever haunted her. Something had made its way past the gate and had already slaughtered one of the horses, Ginger, by ripping her throat apart. Below Ginger's body the hay and dirt was stained a deep crimson. The horse's eyes, which were once clear and full of life but were now clouded by a milky haze, stared blankly into nothingness. Susan swallowed hard with an audible click and summoned all of her willpower to continue further into the stables. Before she had taken three steps she heard a rustling of hay and a deep growling which froze her in her tracks.

At the other end of the stables from Honey's stall on the left and Butter's stall on the right emerged two wolves, dark gray fur gradually fading into their white paws, blood dripping from their drawn back lips and razor sharp teeth. Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment she thought that she would faint. She knew that if she fainted they would rip her to shreds and so she steadied herself on the pitchfork as they slowly began to creep towards her. Her heart pounded in her chest and her blood pulsed through her head. The wolves seemed to move in slow motion, frothy droplets of blood dripping from their mouths with a floating softness. Somewhere deep down inside of her she knew that if she was going to survive she would have to act immediately.

Almost upon instinct she used her right foot to kick the end of the pitchfork up from the ground and thrust it directly at the closer of the two wolves, the one on the right. It was forced to retreat from this attack and the other wolf took the opportunity to lung at Susan's open left side. With lightning speed she withdrew her weapon and thrust it forwards with all of her strength. The force of the collision drove her backwards, nearly knocking her from her feet, but she tightened every muscle in her body and held her balance. The forked steel entered through both eye sockets and killed the wolf instantly. The first wolf had now recovered and was pressing an attack. Susan had time only to draw her weapon back and hope that she could position it well. The wolf was upon her and bit into her left shoulder, puncturing her flesh with its deadly teeth. She let out a blood curdling scream that echoed for miles through the surrounding farm lands. This sound was quickly met with a resigned howling that slowly faded off into whimpering.

As she pushed the weight of the creature from her body she fled to the door, stopping just shy of freedom. Everything inside of her told her to run, to get as far away as she could as fast as possible, but instead of running she stopped and turned to face the wolf. It lay in a pile of hay, innards beginning to slowly leak out of its punctured belly, and looked up at her with eyes filled with fear and sadness. As Susan slowly walked back towards it there was mostly fear in those eyes and the wolf began to softly whimper again. She reached it and knelt down before it, at first afraid that it would lash out in a final act of desperation, but it didn't move and instead just stared at her with those wide, fearful eyes. She reached out and began to softly caress its cheek, smoothing out its fur down the neck and back. It was visibly calmer and peered up into Susan's eyes with a look of almost serene gratitude. She wasn't sure if a wolf could smile but she was almost certain that this one was. In a last burst of life it tried to crawl its way to its fallen companion and when it only made it halfway there before dying Susan burst into tears. She shed tears for her lost horses. She shed tears for the wolves' lost family. (she was almost certain they were a mommy and daddy wolf with little baby wolves back at the den.) She shed tears for her wounded shoulder and, most of all, for the beginning of the end of her childhood which she could almost see passing before her very eyes.

How long she sat upon that floor and wept she could not say, but at some point her father came out and carried her upstairs to her room. He cleaned and dressed her wounds, working with a careful delicacy Susan could not have imagined him capable of. He had big, rough farmer's hands that reminded her of slabs of stone. They moved with the greatest of care and love and touched with a feather's weight. As he finished up she drifted off to sleep. The last thing she remembered before going out was her father kissing her upon her forehead and telling her that she was going to be okay. He promised her that everything was going to be fine.

That was two months before it happened.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 3
~Susan~

For Susan, every day was the same. Every morning she rose with the sun and carried out her chores as she had for as long as she could remember. Her father often helped her with the more strenuous activities but for the most part she could do everything by herself. That wasn't to say that she didn't enjoy her father's company. Quite the contrary, she tried to find every reason to ask for his help and he was always loving and patient with her. Her mother didn't speak much - not since Susan's brother had died - and spent most of her time cleaning the house or staring wistfully out the windows at the mountain sky line. Something had simply snapped inside of her and it always made Susan afraid and a little sad to see that look in her mother's eyes. She tried not to focus on her brother's passing and instead chose to remember the fun times they had spent together and that somehow made it easier to cope with. Working made it easier too. It's hard to think of much else with the exhaustive physical labour required to maintain a farm.

And so Susan worked the days away. Days turned to weeks which in turn became months. The incident with the slaughtered horses was forgotten and new animals were purchased and cared for. Young hearts mend so easily. Before long Susan had taken a liking to a new colt her father had named Thunder and would spend every free moment she had brushing the animal and speaking her secret fears and desires to him. She liked to fancy that he was actually listening to her. He would nod his head in agreement or make flamboyant gestures of comic disbelief at all the right times. When she spoke of sad things he seemed to show a type of pure empathy she had never seen in humans. It was as if the horse was responding to the emotions behind the thoughts and not the actual words themselves. She learned that horses communicated in this way and soon she was able to tell what a horse was thinking just by looking for certain signs. Posture, body movements, minute facial expressions and breathing patterns all determined what the horse was feeling and, in turn, what it was trying to tell you.

Her life went on in the relative peace it had been and for a time she was truly happy. Then one morning she went inside the house to ask her father for help tending the crops and found him in the kitchen, coughing and choking on phlegm gurgling up from his lungs. He spat a glob of the sickly looking gunk in the sink and told her not to worry and that it was just a little chest cold, that it would clear up in no time. He was right and it did clear up but after that he was never the same. He was slower, more lethargic, and he seemed to only be able to work for short periods of time without having to take a break. Even when he was well rested he began to breathe heavily after only a few minutes of working. He grew thinner and his hair began to gray. His once massive hands seemed skeletal remnants of their previous selves. He coughed and spit a lot. It broke Susan's heart to see what was happening to him. It was as if he was slowly dying in front of her very eyes. She spent as much time as she could with him and cherised every moment of it. He died on a Sunday and she wept at his funeral as her mother stood beside her, emotionless, staring blankly into nothing.

The next months of her life passed in a blur of tears and sleepless nights. Thunder and Cocoa, the late Butter's sister, eloped and a young stud was born who Susan named Lightning. As time passed she spent longer and longer watching Lightning grow, Thunder and Cocoa teaching him, and she returned to a semi-normal state. True to the trend her life seemed to be setting for her, that happiness was short lived. One day while Thunder was out frolicking in the field with his young son he stepped in a gopher hole and broke his leg. Susan's mother did nothing more than stare out the window now - As far as Susan knew she never even ate - and Susan knew that it would be up to her to take care of things. She tried everything that she could think of but in the end she knew, and Thunder knew, that he would never walk again. As much as it pained her, she couldn't stand to see him in such misery. His eyes pleaded with her and eventually she gave in to their pleas. With a quick blow from a mallet his pain was ended and hers was intensified. More often than not she cried herself to sleep at night.

Lightning grew quickly but Cocoa was visibly depressed from her loss. She wandered morosely as her son kicked and frolicked around her, trying in vain to raise her spirits. No matter what either of them did she had lost her lust for life. As with Susan's mother, Cocoa had stopped eating. She rarely played with Lightning anymore and her ribs began to show through her skin. Susan tried to get her to eat but she would do no more than nibble at the food a little bit and then let out a deep sigh and flop down to the ground. She had given up. Two weeks later she was dead. A week after that Susan's mother died.

For a time, exactly how long nobody knows, Susan continued her farm work as she always had. She worked herself to the point of exhaustion to avoid having to face reality. Her mother had never really been a big part of her life - at least not since her brother died - but she still didn't want to accept the fact that she was dead and that her and lightning were left all alone. She worked the fields and fed the animals, she awoke and fell to sleep in a daze. She didn't cry, though. No matter how much she tried her eyes remained dry. Until one day when she was feeding Lightning and he nuzzled against her side in the same way that Thunder had always done, and it all came pouring out of her like a roaring river. She squeezed Lightning as hard as she could and let the tears flow. With those tears came a realization of what she was doing. She had watched her father been buried, buried her horse and best friend, and then buried her mother. She was all alone and trying in vain to hold onto a past that was no more. The world had moved on without her and only now, in her anguish, did she realize that it was futile to resist. Sooner or later she would have to face reality, and she preferred sooner rather than later.

In a burst of emotion she freed the animals from their pens, took a loaf of bread she had cooked herself, a skin of water, a knife and sharpening stone, saddled Lightning, said her -byes to the only home she had ever known and rode off into the sunset. As they galloped across the field in which she had played in her youth, tears now streaming down her cheeks, she felt the last remnants of childhood being swept away completely. A coldness washed over her and the tears fell no more. What was done was done and dwelling on it would not change the facts of life. If she was to make anything of herself she would have to look to the future. As they neared a copse of trees she slowed Lightning to a trot and, after drawing a deep breath to strengthen her resolve, they rode into the relative darkness of the woods.

As Lightning carried her from her old life into her new one, never once did she look back.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 4
~Fate~

Susan collapsed to her knees and covered her face with her hands as she wept. Within moments Jake was on his knees beside her, cradling her in his arms, doing his best to calm her. She looked up at him with dazed doe eyes and tried to speak but no words would come forth. He placed his index finger on her lips, put his hands on either side of her face and leaned fowards, gently kissing her tears away. When she had calmed some he spoke in a soothing tone, as one would speak to a hysterical child.

"You don't need to tell me. I can't stand to see you like this. If it hurts this badly to remember, I don't need to know."

"No. I need to tell it. If not for you then to hear it for myself. I've repressed it so long already I'm afraid it may end up driving me mad if I ignore it any longer. No, even though it hurts like the bowels of hell itself it must be told."

She sniffled and tried to put on a smile which looked sadly pathetic on her face. Sensing the falseness of it she gave it up, silently thanking the gods that Jake was there for moral support. She had never had anyone in her life that she felt she could be this open with - at least nobody human - and knew she had found her soul mate. When she awoke this morning she would have said it was all a load of bull dung, but now she knew otherwise. There was one person for everyone; maybe more than one, but at least one she was sure of. Of all the forests in all the land she had chosen to walk into this one and she had found him; they had found each other. Against all odds and in the midst of her darkest hour she had found happiness.

Jake helped her to her feet and she brushed the dirt from her knees. She took his hand in hers and their fingers intertwined as the branches of the bramble bush near her home did. After a deep breath she continued walking, at first only listening to the peaceful sounds of nature around her. The wind blew through the leaves and grass with a soft rustling. It blew through the rock formations with a gentle whistling. A deer, grazing on the grass to the left of the path, heard their approach and raised his head in alarm, freezing momentarily before bolting off into the thicket. A squirrel seemed to chatter laughter from the safety of his tree home before returning to his silent nut gathering. The soft crunching of pebbles beneath their feet was the loudest sound she could hear and even that had a soothing rhythm to it. As her mind cleared she felt ready to continue with her story and drew a deep, relaxing breath in preperation. She let it out with a sigh and delved back into the memories of her past.

At first Lightning had been very wary of the woods. He was very skittish and would jump at every creak and groan the trees would make. He would even jump a little when a twig would snap beneath his feet but, given the fashion in which his father had died, Susan didn't think she could blame him for that. As brave as she was trying to be she wasn't going to fool herself. The woods were spooky and she didn't like them one bit. Even with the sun shining through the canopy of leaves above them, providing her ample light to see beneath the bushes where her mind told her an troll was waiting to jump out and eat her, (as that was the popular story told to scare children at the time) she still felt a deep unease that she could not put to rest. Faces seemed to sneer at her from the bark of the twisted trees all around. Thinking of how she would fare during her first night she began to have second thoughts of leaving the farm. Remembering digging the hole out back and burying her mother's lifeless corpse, she knew that that life was over for her and there was nothing left in that place but the ghosts of what once was.

The first night was every bit as horrible as she had thought it would be. In the darkness of the foreign woods the imagination ran wild, turning each creak and groan of the trees, each hoot of an owl, each cry of an unknown creature into a monster's battle cry. She sat beside Lightning the entire night, the both of them shivering in fright, sharing the single loaf of bread she had brought, clutching her blade to her chest and only when the sky began to lighten and the first rays of sunshine passed through the trees did sleep finally take her. It was her first sound sleep in what seemed like forever. She slept like the dead and not even Lightning's hunger-induced nudgings could wake her. When she finally did awaken her stomach growled at her unhappily and they set off deeper into the woods to find more food. Soon she had found a bush that grew berries and they held her over for a little while. In the back of her mind she wondered if they were poisoned but her hunger far surpassed her concern for her well being, as did Lightning's. He gobbled what she gave him down greedily and let out a small belch after it was gone. Susan followed suit shortly thereafter and she even had to restrict herself from giggling. Having food in her belly raised her spirits and gave her a new perspective on the woods through which she walked. She could have rode Lightning but she enjoyed walking beside him much more. As she had learned on the farm, it was much easier to fall asleep after physical activity than it was after a day of doing nothing.

The woods no longer looked quite as frightening to her. As a matter of fact they were almost inviting, welcoming, imploring that she relax and stay a while. It was at this moment that the woods began to feel like home. Birds called to each other from the tree tops. Squirrels chattered back and forth like washer women and even they sounded to be in spirits. A toad sat on a felled tree and croaked contentedly, hopping off into the underbrush as they approaced. She saw a small red fox peek its head out from some foliage but it too quickly retreated as they neared. The land sloped up and down and then up again. They came across what looked to be a path, not worn by human passage - it was too overgrown to be made by people - but rather by the animal inhabitants that made their homes nearby. Without even noticing it she began to walk down the path, following it as it curved up and down, left and right, weaving in and out of the trees. Without realizing it she began to whistle a tune that her mother had sung to her in earlier, simpler times. She began to skip down the path, Lightning slowly trotting beside her to keep pace. She felt at one with the woods.

In her high spirited state of serenity she didn't notice the wolves slink out of the brush behind her and Lightning and begin to trail them. At first Lightning didn't even notice but it wasn't long before the wind shifted and he caught their scent. After a quick glance behind them he became very agitated. Susan didn't know what to make of it; he had been perfectly contented a moment before. As she tried to figure out what had changed in that moment she noticed his eyes taking worried glances behind them. She turned and her breath caught in her throat. They were being trailed by a quartet of young wolves. They looked eerily thin and drool ran from their mouths in anticipation of a possible feast. They looked as if it had been months since their last meal. Susan knew immediately upon viewing them what had happened; it was as if she had been there to see it all, and in a way she had. The way their dark gray fur faded into their white paws was too familiar to be coincidence. It was fate that their paths had crossed. She was responsible for the death of their parents and in turn their current state of emaciation. She felt it was her responsibility, her duty, to right the wrong she had committed. They were depending on her for survival.

Against every instinct she had she patted Lightning on the haunches in a vain attempt to calm him and then began to slowly walk towards the wolves. He whinnied his obvious dismay but held his ground. Before she had taken four steps the wolves growled at her and she stopped dead in her tracks. After a momentary pause she continued towards them. The wolves were dumbfounded by her actions. They were used to their prey running away from them and had never once encountered a target which approached them when threatened. While every atom of their being told them to attack, to rip Susan apart and feast on her flesh before she could do harm to them, they hesitated. This strange creature with an almost total lack of fur had peaked their interest. It had surprised them with its actions so far and they didn't want to give it the chance to further catch them off guard. They scattered into the safety of the foliage and disappeared from view, laying in wait to learn more about these intruders upon their land. Susan walked back to Lightning, ran her fingers through his mane and they continued down the path.

As they walked Susan thought about the wolves and tried to figure out what she could do to help them. She wanted to be prepared the next time they chose to reveal themselves, as she was certain they would do. With the way they looked - bones showing through their flesh, the sickly look of malnutrition on their faces - she didn't think they would wait very long. As it turns out she was right.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 5
~Fresh Meat~

After a week's time had elapsed Susan began to fall into the rhythm of life in the brush. She had to be much more aware of her surroundings than her farm-work had ever demanded of her, and now instead of her motivation being avoiding scolding by her father it was holding on to her life.

The woods were full of dangerous creatures, any one of which would not hesitate to turn you into its mid-day snack. Susan began to always leave an ear open for rustling in the bushes, secretly hoping that the rustling would signal the return of her emaciated canine companions, but it was never them. It was usually just a mouse trying to hide itself as best it could from the terror of an innocent looking owl perched upon a tree branch. Once, Susan saw a familiar red and white face poke out through the leaves as the curious fox snuck a peek at the strange travellers passing through its land. Susan raised her hand in greeting - why she would think a fox would understand a raised hand as a greeting I'm not sure, but she was, after all, still quite young - and the moment the fox discovered that the safety of his hiding place had been compromised he bolted off into the underbrush, loudly rustling and bending plants this way and that as he fled.

Susan was yet to bring herself to kill something for food. Berry bushes, much like the one she had discovered on her second day in the woods, were all the sustenance they had been afforded. She had encountered a friendly deer two days after running into the wolves and although it had walked right up to her and began licking her hand - or maybe because it had - she could not bring herself to kill it. She kept thinking about a bed-time story her mother had told her when she was very young. She kept thinking about the poor doe named Bambee whose mother had been killed by hunters as they used their bows and arrows not for food but for sport. She would have killed the deer for food, but she couldn't come to grips with the thought of killing another baby's mother. She had done her share of that already and didn't care much for the feelings it brought about.

During the night, Susan fancied that she could feel the presence of the hungry wolves as they silently crept around the perimeter of the campfire's light. Occasionally she would see a twinkle as the light reflected off one of their eyes but it never lasted long as, seeming to feel that their presence had been discovered, they'd quickly retreat into the safety of the darkness. As she lay awake at night, gazing through the breaks in the leafy canopy above into the starry beauty of the sky, she thought. After much thinking she began to truly understand the gravity of the situation she had brought upon herself. With her current diet of berries she could feel what would be sores beginning to form at the corners of her mouth. She had only been without meat for about a week but the wolves, meat being their primary source of sustenance, had been without it for months. Well, maybe they hadn't been completely without meat as, although they were thin and obviously hungry, they still appeared to be strong. She didn't think they had been taught to hunt, as young as they were, but she thought they had come across the remains of another creature's meal, left to rot after its belly had been filled. She silently thanked the gods for that kindness and asked to be given the strength to overcome the obstacles that were ahead. As she slipped off to sleep she was still thanking the gods for everything one could thank a god for, only getting halfway through her projected list before nodding off.

In the morning Susan felt completely revitalized. Her body felt stronger and her mind clearer to what she needed to do. The thoughts of doubt and despair that had been slowly encroaching her consciousness were washed away as a child's chalk drawing is washed away by a spring rain. Feeling better equipped to handle the situation she roused Lightning, or tried to anyway. He looked at her with a startled look of annoyance that seemed to say "Can't you see that I'm sleeping?" and flopped back down on his side, gently snoring before he even hit the ground. Susan decided it would be best to let him sleep and she set out into the thicket to find some pieces of wood that may be of use to her, making sure to keep their makeshift camp within eye sight. After only minutes of rummaging through the brush she found a very sturdy piece of wood that looked to be a perfect candidate for a bow. She was examining the new piece of wood when her attention was drawn to a rustling from the bushes to her left. From a berry bush about fifteen feet away there emerged a plump white rabbit, sniffing the ground in a lackadaisical search for food. Looking down at the stringless bow in her hands and realizing that, even if the bow did have a string, she didn't have any arrows to fire out of it she felt despair creeping back in. She let out a soft sigh of resignation, thinking only of how the rabbit would scurry off and how she would be left eating berries once again. In a universal show of resignation she let her shoulders slump and cast her eyes to the ground.

Looking in despair at the vines and small plants growing at her feet she noticed a medium sized rock buried halfway in the soil. Slowly, ever so slowly, she knelt down and began to wrench the stone this way and that, trying to free it from its earthly bonds without startling the rabbit. At the very moment that she was thinking how the rock would never come free all resistance gave way and she pulled it straight out of the ground, losing her balance and falling on her behind in the process. She was sure the rabbit would run, that it would bolt back to the safety of the bushes, but it didn't. It just looked up at her, sniffed around in the air for a bit, and then went back to foraging for food. She let out a little sigh of relief and then stood, steadied herself to let the rock fly, thanked the gods for this gift to her and asked that her aim be true, tightened every muscle she could and threw the rock skywards in the general direction of the rabbit.

The rock seemed to tumble through the air in slow motion, clumps of dirt and mud, some with tiny plants still growing from them, fell from it as it reached its zenith and began to make its way back down. The rabbit, blissfully unaware of his impending doom, continued to rummage through the plants. He began to chew on a leaf of one, thinking about whether or not he liked the taste of those greens and, deciding against eating them, he spat the chewed leaves back out and made little huffing noises as he repeatedly stuck out his tongue, trying to get the bitter taste out of his mouth. This show of consciousness made Susan momentarily doubt her choice but it was already too late now. The rock was steadily making its way downwards and it would only be a matter of moments before it struck. Feeling that something was wrong rather than actually sensing it through any conventional means, the rabbit turned its head to investigate what might be the cause of this feeling. Before it could discover any great secrets of life the rock hit its mark and the rabbit was squashed, swiftly ending his life on this planet with no pain or discomfort. One moment he was and the next he simply wasn't. The only evidence that he had ever existed in the first place was a single furry white leg which stuck out from beneath the rock, quivering slightly for a short while before finally falling still.

Susan, not quite believing that the rock had actually hit its mark and that the rabbit hadn't scurried off, slowly edged her way towards her kill. The childish part inside of her expected the rabbit to throw the stone from its back, leap up at her and gnaw through her neck with a single bite. The image of the rabbit leaping, the blood spraying, and her head tumbling backwards was so vivid that on instinct she protectively covered her throat with her hands and had to shake her head to clear it away. That was just silliness; the rabbit was dead and wouldn't be biting anything anymore. After a cooking she would be biting into it. She shuddered at this morbid thought and silently apologized to the rabbit as she lifted the rock from its lifeless body and picked the carcass up by his foot. "Lucky rabbit's foot..." she thought grimly, and swallowed hard to clear a lump in her throat. She walked back to camp with the rabbit in hand and when she arrived she found Lightning wide awake and nosing through her pack. It was made quite obvious that he was hungry by the way he looked directly at the dead rabbit and simply stared at it, refusing to look at anything else. A tendril of drool dripped from his lip and as it struck the earth below Susan heard her stomach rumble. Without any hesitation she took ger knife from her pack, gutted and cleaned the rabbit, quickly gathered some kindling and a long, thin sturdy stick, started a small fire, impaled the rabbit on the stick and began to slowly turn it over the flames. She sat and waited, watching as beads of fat began to drip down the crackling bronzed skin.

Before long the rabbit was cooked and again she sat, cross-legged this time, picking bits of meat off and feeding the occasional piece to Lightning. All too soon the rabbit was devoid of all meat and her stomach growled its displeasure at her. As she was thinking, trying to decide where she would find more food to quiet her rumbling belly, a deer wandered into the clearing and began to eat some of the grass that grew sparsley in the soft soil. Without a thought she slowly reached over, grabbed her knife by the blade and with a single fluid motion let it fly through the air. To her surprise the blade buried itself to the hilt in the deer's neck, severing its spinal column and bringing it to the ground in a lifeless pile. She had never thrown a knife before in her life and was awe-struck to find that she was at it. She was at it and she enjoyed it.

She stood, knees making soft popping noises as they straightened, and slowly made her way over to the fresh corpse. She wrenched the knife free and began the gruesome task of gutting and skinning the deer. She cut flanks of meat from it and stretched the skin over a flat rock to cure in the sun. She wrapped the cuts of meat in the large leaves of a nearby plant and stored them in her pack for future cooking and eating. In the span of an hour her outlook on her new life had brightened. She began to think that it may just be possible to survive off of the land. Whatever she needed nature would provide, what she wanted was irrelevant. She felt more alive than she ever had before. All that within the first hour of the day. She could hardly wait to see what the rest of the day had in store.

Remembering a stream she had passed in the darkness of the night before and hoping to refill her skins and quench her thirst she shouldered her pack and headed off in that general direction. Lightning closely followed suit and playfully nudged her from time to time to make sure she kept the pace up. As she walked her thoughts returned to the wolves and their lack of food. She hoped that they would find the remains of the deer to their liking and that she had left enough meat on it to serve as an adequate meal for them. It never occured to her to wonder if they had survived that far because she could feel they had. She had discovered that she could feel them when they were watching her. The sensation was hard to describe - perhaps a mild version of the chill on the back of your neck that makes your hairs stand on end would be best suited for the job - but she could feel it just as true as she could feel the sun on her face as it peeked through the leaves above. As she stepped over fallen trees and pushed her way through leafy branches she emerged into a clearing. It wasn't the clearing through which the stream ran but she thought it was close. All at once she had that prickly hairs-on-the-back-of-your-neck-standing-on-end feeling and turned to look behind her, finding Lightning peacefully chewing on a clump of grass just outside the tree line. If it wasn't that, then what was it? She didn't think the wolves would have finished their meal so soon and couldn't think of anything else it could be, however she didn't have to think about it very long as the next sounds she heard removed any doubt from her mind.

"Well, well, lookie what we have here fellas!" a gutteral voice barked from behind her. She spun on her heels to face the source of the sound and the color flushed from her face. About ten yards away, in plain sight, was a small camp which was little more than three small logs used for seating, a pathetic looking campfire, a pot for cooking and a pot for coffee and three disheveled looking young men who were now staring at her with great interest. Two of them sat with their backs towards her, looking at her over their left shoulders, and one sat directly facing her. The one facing her wore a bright smile on his face, a smile that bordered on insanity and one that had slowly crept onto his face the moment Susan had wandered into their little clearing. As he thought more and more about all the fun they could have with their new guest his smile grew bigger and bigger. It felt that if he smiled any more his face would simply fall off. He pulled a rusty blade - one that looked to Susan like it had seen more moons pass than she herself had - from a custom holster on his belt, which was, to say, a few loops of ragged twine, and slowly began to walk towards her, muttering words which would have, were it not already flowing with an icy chill, made her blood run cold.

"Looks like we've got us some fresh meat."

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 6
~Silence~

There are times in a person's life when silence can be so thick that it seems to have weight all its own. For Susan, this was one of those times.

Flashing glimpses of the twisted things they were planning on doing to, and with, her ran rampant through her mind. Their calm exterior camoflauge didn't fool Susan. With her mind's eye she could see them slobbering over her as a pack of rabid dogs does over a cut of fresh meat. She could see each of their perverted fantasies shining in their eyes. She could run away but how far could she expect to get running from three of them. They would catch her and do their bidding regardless, perhaps even more excited by the chase. If she was to survive she would have to make her stand here and now. Without hesitation she pulled her knife free from beneath the flap of her pack and flung it directly at the single man who had stood first, assuming him to be the leader. The blade spun from her hand and sliced its way towards the unsuspecting fellow, whistling slightly with a faint buzz. She had mistaken the smug look of hapiness on his face for ignorance of the situation but as it turns out she was quite wrong. At the last moment he shifted his blade and knocked her weapon from the air, sending it bouncing off into the brush. He looked from the blade to Susan and grinned broadly at her. It was the grin of a winner.

It was at this moment that susan began to really panic. Her mind grew hot, her heart rate skyrocketed, and she began to breathe in quick, deep gasps. Darkness began to seep in from the corners of her vision. The feeling of impending fainting returned to her and she had to focus all of her will to keep it from engulfing her. If she was to meet her end on this day she would do it on her own two feet and she would look death in the face with her own two eyes. She would not give in without a fight.

A lone ray of sunshine broke through the clouds and lit the clearing brightly for a few moments. There were a few rocks Susan thought she may be able to use for ammunition but they looked to be securely lodged in the earth. By the time she could free one they would be upon her. A few sticks littered the makeshift campsite but none of them looked sturdy enough to serve as a weapon. As her eyes darted from object to object, searching desperately for any escape she could find, she glanced back towards the path where she had entered the clearing and was not surprised to find that Lightning was no longer peacefully grazing there. Chances are he probably ran away as soon as he felt there was trouble. Susan didn't blame him for that, however. After all, he was just a horse.

For a moment Susan could have sworn that she saw a flicker of motion but before she could be sure one way or the other it was gone. There would be no help from Lightning. Once again she was alone.

With a renewed sense of purpose she faced her invaders and glared at each of them in turn. Her eyes were devoid of fear and burned with nothing but pure hatred. While it made Susan feel invincible, the look on her face must have been funny to the scum because they began to laugh at her. With the hot blood of combat pumping through her veins and the veil of bloodlust pulled over her eyes she could think of doing nothing else but ripping their still-beating hearts from their chests and showing them to their owners before they met their untimely demises. She would later reflect upon these thoughts with regret, but for now they seemed appropriate. More than appropriate, they seemed to be perfectly right.

"Aww isn't that cute. Little miss is gonna try and hurt us. We better go fellas. I don't want any trouble."

The leader spoke these lines sincerely and after a brief pause he doubled over and laughed - a high pitched tittering laugh - until he was red in the face. His companions, either really finding his joke funny or simply fearing retribution from their leader, laughed heartily alongside him. The two underlings hung on one another as they laughed and their combined center of balance slowly rocked back and forth. The leader turned to bask in the glory that his joke had afforded from his two person audience and faced his back towards Susan, the captive girl temporarily forgotten. As the leader raised his hands triumphantly in the air and his underlings rubbed the tears from their eyes Susan took a chance and ran full speed towards the leader. She leaped into the air, turned over halfway, kicked the unsuspecting leader in the back and fell safely on her stomach, quickly recovering her feet and preparing for the counter-attack. The leader tumbled through the air and crashed through his companions, knocking the wind out of the both of them with an audible "Whoof!"

The brunt of the force absorbed by the other two, the leader stood and charged towards Susan, limping slightly from a fresh pain in his hip. In her mind's eye Susan saw herself kicking the man in the chest, him grabbing her leg and then her kicking him in the face with her other foot, escaping his grasp with a dramatic backflip. In reality her foot connected with his chest and he completely ignored it, instead choosing to backhand Susan across the face. She flipped dramatically due to the leverage her foot placement gave her and landed on the dirt in an equally dramatic fashion. Plumes of dust rose from the previously undisturbed ground and covered Susan in a light layer of gray. A warmth began to move down her jaw and for a moment she thought it was almost plesant until she looked down and saw droplets of red slowly falling to the dirt. She reached up and touched her lip and was greeted by a sharp pain. He had hit her hard enough to break the skin.

It took a few moments for her mind to clear and her vision to focus and in those moments the world looked and sounded like it was at the other side of a dark tunnel, or perhaps beneath a mile of ocean. The sounds reached her ears in a strange muffled warbling and stars danced and fell before her vision. In that moment there was peace and then, all too soon, that peace was broken.

Susan was grabbed by her shirt and yanked to her feet, head lolling around in a lifeless daze. The thug had his knife gripped firmly in his hand and he now held it against her throat. He pulled her back side against him and held her shoulders tightly with his left arm. His distungingly hot, sickeningly sticky breathe blew in her ears and he began to spout vile curses too vulgar to be recounted. Susan finally broke and gave up. She accepted the fact that she was going to die, thanked the gods for the time she had been given, asked that she go without too much pain, and resigned herself to her fate. At this moment when her despair had reached its peak, when her life seemed to have reached its end, she heard a sound that she never thought she would have taken heart from.

From deep in the shadows and cover of foliage she heard growling.

Her attackers heard it too and they froze in place like statues of stone, suddenly and strongly reminding Susan of the way she had while playing the freeze game when she was young. The sweetness of the memory was enough that a smile broke out on her face. As she smiled the knife slowly drifted from her throat and for that as well, Susan was glad. The leader had realized that for the moment the girl was secondary on his list of priorities. Whatever had just made that growling noise was first. He released her and gently threw her from him, send her falling to the ground on her rear with light puff of dust and a soft "oof!". The unseen attacker (or attackers, because he wasn't really sure how many of them there were and he had learned not to underestimate an unknown enemy) didn't like this and showed their dismay by growling even louder, this time the question of number answered by the variation in growling sounds. The thug judged there to be at least a dozen of them hiding in the bushes - maybe even twice that number - and began to doubt his choice of camping spots, blessed though their company had been up until this point. Susan knew there to be four of them and pictured them in her head, hiding in the shadows, trying to sound as menacing as possible. She had to struggle a little to stifle a laugh. As luck, or fate, would have it at that exact moment the leader happened to look down at her and saw this, turning his fear into a deadly sort of anger that bordered on rage. He furiously kicked dirt into Susan's face and had she not closed her eyes at the last instant she would have surely been blinded at least temporarily, if not permanently.

A cry of pain and surprise rose from Susan's lips that pierced their hearts like a spear. This cry was joined by a chorus of howling and for about five seconds it was the only sound to be heard, invading your mind and taking over all possibility of thought. As suddenly as it had begun it ended and before the silence could set in there was a rustling in the bushes and the wolves emerged in single file at break neck speed. As soon as they cleared the foliage they fanned out and rushed their targets side by side. The thugs' leader drew a pair of small throwing knives from a holster strapped to his hip and flung them in quick succession at the charging wolves. To his delight and Susan's dismay he clipped one's flanks with the first knife and the second buried itself into another's skull, instantly killing the animal and sending him to the ground in a lump, lifeless body tumbling half a dozen feet before stopping. The other three closed the gap left by their fallen brother and together they pressed the attack.

The underlings had drawn their bows and were pulling arrows from their quivers but they moved too slow and the wolves moved too fast. Before they could set their arrows the wolves were upon them. The one that had been grazed by the leader's throwing knife dove on him, gnawing on the guilty hand and taking joy in his shouts of pain. His own flank shouted at him in pain so why should this creature be an exception? And after all he was the one who had brought this pain about, wasn't he? Yes, yes he was, and he deserved to know what pain felt like just as surely as he had chosen to deal it. With this thought the wolf merrily gnawed at the leader's hand and the leader fruitlessly cried out for help.

The two other wolves dove upon the underlings and snapped at their necks, jaws closing instead on their upper arms. They cried out in pain and stabbed the wolves with the arrows clutched in their free hands. The wolves bit down on their arms a little bit harder. The thugs cried out and stabbed their arrows again. The wolves bit down harder. This gruesome mirror image repeated itself with lessening intensity until the wolves' jaws just released from the underlings and the underlings grew very pale and simply collapsed to the ground. There were a few spurts of blood from their wounds and then they were still. The image of the wolves and the thugs lying dead next to one another brought tears to her eyes and was one that would stick with her until her dying day.

Amidst the death and confusion there was movement. The wolf with the wounded leg released the leader from his jaws (after making very sure that the leader was completely dead) and limped his way towards the strange thing which had been nice to them. In his current state of bloodlust he didn't even know if he could trust the thing and growled at it just for measure. It seemed to show little fear at his growling and this eased his mind as to the question of how strong it was. It obviously wasn't weak and that went a long way in his book. He slowly limped the rest of the way towards the creature and looked up into its face. Susan knelt down to look the wolf in the eyes. The wolf took a moment to size up the creature and then showed his approval by licking its face. Susan slowly and gently hugged the wolf, taking special care not to touch his wound. The wolf tolerated this for a short while and simply walked away when he'd had enough. He tensed and growled as a twig snapped from the woods and prepared to attack the creature that lumbered into the clearing but a dismayed cry stayed him.

Susan ran to Lightning and threw her arms around his neck, gently patting his flanks and hugging him tight. She had feared so much that she had lost him, that he had been killed by the wolves or worse, but here he was alive and unhurt and ready for whatever life may throw at him. She led him back to the makeshift camp and rummaged through the thugs' gear, taking whatever they had that she thought would be useful. She remembered that her knife had been knocked away during the battle and searched the surrounding area until she found it. All the while the remaining wolf kept his distance and circled the new lumbering furry creature with a growing distrust. Susan strapped the new packs and bags to Lightning, filled with their new s, and then pulled a flank of meat from her pack and threw it in the pot which was, conveniently, already sitting on the fire. The smells of the searing meat drew them all closer to the fire and before long Susan began to cut slices from the meat with her blade. She took turns feeding slices to the wolf, Lightning, and eating one herself and by the time the meat was gone she found that she wasn't hungry anymore.

As they gathered their things and readied themselves to leave the camp Susan said a prayer for the dead and asked that their spirits find peace. If she had been expecting an answer she didn't recieve one and as they left the clearing and its newfound feeling of death she decided that she wanted to ride Lightning today. If only just this once, she needed to ride him today.

As he clopped down a more clearly defined path with the wolf limping after at a decent distance Susan hoped that they would learn to get along with each other soon. They spent weeks walking down that path, stopping and eating, hunting and cleaning, avoiding and regarding each other with an uneasy silence.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 7
~Change~

The wolf had limped along behind Susan and Lightning with a detached, depressed demeaner, refusing to join them at any time other than meals. He would raise his ears at the slightest noise from the woods in a display of earnest hope so saddening that Susan always found herself holding back tears when she looked behind and saw it. He was expecting his brothers and sisters to come bounding out of the brush at any moment, jumping and frolicking, barking and howling in a family reunion so beautiful that only his heart could truly comprehend it, but his spirits were always crushed when it was never them. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew they were gone for but he didn't want to face it. In all honesty he didn't think he could face it.

It had been hard when he lost his parents but it wasn't as hard as it could have been, given that he'd only known them for a couple of weeks and could count the times he had seen them with his own eyes on a single paw. What was really hard was the bond that he'd formed with his siblings when they were forced to fend for themselves. They were forced to choose life or death and only by banding together did they manage to hold on to that life. Now that they were gone it felt as if his entire reason for living had been pulled out from underneath him and so he limped on, not caring enough to clean out his wounds or to snap at Susan when she did it for him. He had lost his lust for life but still he plodded on.

For the first couple of days Lightning had continually looked mistrustfully behind him to make sure the wolf wasn't planning on attacking him but it wasn't long before he realized just how deep the wolf's sadness went. After that realization came he looked behind him less often, now checking on the wolf only to make sure that he was still putting one foot in front of the other and he was always amazed to find that when he did look back the wolf was. Lightning could tell just by looking at him that all he wanted to do was to curl up and die but still he kept going. Against all odds the wolf fought to live and for this Lightning grew to respect, and even love, him.

From time to time Lightning would try to fall back a little bit to trot closer to the wolf but a soft, sharp growl would tell him all he needed to know and send him right back up to Susan's side. But it was not enough to stop him from trying again later. Eventually the wolf gave this up as well and allowed Lightning to walk along beside him. If it would make the lumbering beast happy, so be it. He didn't have the energy or the will to dissuade him any longer and so they walked side by side, Lightning playfully nudging the wolf from time to time in a vain attempt to raise his spirits. A sharp glare by the wolf always limited these attempts to one a day but, like walking besides him, Lightning did not give up. To Susan's surprise, one day she looked back to see Lightning nudge the wolf and the wolf actually bonk his head into Lightning's knees in a playful gesture of will. Susan turned her head back to the path ahead and felt a grin spread across her face, smiling internally as much as externally with the knowledge that everything may still turn out okay.

They walked for weeks and their time together was uneventful, save the signs of the wolf's getting better. Susan began calling him Fang and, as he seemed to respond to this name and perhaps even like it, she continued to do so. It wasn't long before Fang returned to his normal self, accepting that his old life was gone and that Lightning and Susan were his family now. They began walking together and Susan had to stifle a laugh the first time Lightning playfully nudged her on one side and Fang on the other. Fang began breaking away from the party and searching through the woods for food, sometimes returning with nothing and sometimes returning with a quail, pheasant, or a small rabbit to be cooked for their evening meal. Susan had become an apt hunter, watching for signs of animal passage and stalking her prey as silently as the best of predators. Between the two of them they were never in need of food. Fang had even grown to prefer the taste of cooked meat versus the raw, bloody flesh he had so loved eating before their meeting. They began to fall into a steady rhythm of their new lives and it was then that change came upon them, as sudden and unwelcome as a violent storm blowing in.

One night as Susan sat next to the fire pit, stacking the wood in a teepee she had learned from her father, there came a rustling from the bushes. Fang's ears pressed back against his head and he began to growl. From the foliage there came an answer to his growling, deeper and more menacing than any sound he was able to produce. Before Susan even had time to think about it a beast dove through the leaves and was upon her. It sank its teeth into the soft flesh of her left bicep and began gnawing before the pain became too great and she blacked out.

Mistaking her loss of consciousness for death, Fang fell into a frenzy of bloodlust. In moments he was on the attacker; a mountain lion that had heard the intruders passing through his territory and had hoped for an easy meal. His hopes were drowned, however, as Fang darted in from behind and clamped his jaws down on the lion's throat. He released his bite on Susan and began clawing at Fang, desperately trying to free himself as a darkness began to seep in on his vision. He managed to tear a slice out of Fang's left flank before the wolf wrestled him to the ground. To his surprise Lightning ran in to fight alongside Fang and the lion had only a moment to ponder this confusing turn of events before Lightning reared back and brought a massive hoof down onto his skull, crushing bone and turning brain to a liquid which oozed out of his eyes and ears. As quickly as it had begun it was over, and Fang limped over to Susan's lifeless body, nudging her with his snout and, when she did not move, letting out a howl of pain so deep that it cannot be described with words. It was many hours before Susan regained consciousness and when she finally opened her eyes Fang had lost a lot of blood and had blacked out himself, his hold on life only visible by his faint breathing.

Susan broke into tears of both physical and emotional pain and tore through the contents of her packs, taking the utmost care not to use her mangled left arm any more than she absolutely had to. After what seemed like an eternity of searching she finally found a roll of linen cloth the bandits had carried and began to pack Fang's wound with them, hoping against hope that she had awakened in time to save her friend. Lightning watched all this with the earnestness of a monk, staring resolutely with eyes brimmed with tears. Only when she was satisfied the wound was taken care of did she dare to look down at her own wounded arm. It looked as bad as it felt and she began to carefully wrap it, sending screams of agony rippling through the forest as her tendons pulled and strained on connections that were no longer there. She just finished wrapping the gash when the pain overcame her and she passed out again, not awaking again until the morning of the next day.

To her surprise and delight when she awoke she found that Fang had crawled next to her and was now sleeping, curled up as a child does, breathing in and out in a steadier pattern. Lightning was standing on the other side of her and he sighed his relief as she reached up and patted him on the muzzle using her arm, telling him in the most soothing tone she could muster that she was going to be okay. She promised him that everything was going to be okay and then let her arm flop back to her side, staring through the canopy of leaves at the bright sky and watching as the sun passed overhead as it had for countless millenia before and as it would for all the time yet to come. About the time the sun was reaching its zenith Fang awoke and looked towards her in genuine concern. She stroked the fur on his head and looked into his eyes and he let out a sigh of relief and flopped back onto his side, falling asleep quickly and dozing dreamlessly as his lungs drew air in and released it on their own accord.

They stayed in that clearing for a few weeks until their wounds were better and she buried the corpse of the mountain lion after a couple of days when her strength had returned. Had she the energy to gut and clean it sooner they could have eaten its meat, but in the time they had taken to recover it had become rancid and crawled with maggots and buzzed with flies. Even with her arm screaming its displeasure with her and Fang limping along as she carried out her grizzly task, she did not feel ill will towards the mountain lion. It was simply doing what it was put on this planet to do and it was of fate's choosing they had met under these circumstances. When she was a child her mother had once told her that every creature followed a path and that we all had a destiny in store for us, and she accepted this as a matter of fact and moved on, questioning it no more than she questioned the night coming after the day.

When her arm no longer sent pain streaking through her entire body when she moved it, and when Fang's limp became less pronounced, Susan decided it was time that they move on. She made them all a quick breakfast and began packing their things, taking care not to use her left arm too much for fear of the searing pain returning. As she was finishing getting everything put in its place and strapping it all down on Lightning's saddle, there was a rustling in the bushes and Fang's ears pressed back, his lips raised as he began growling as menacingly as she had ever heard. Expecting another mountain lion to come crashing through the leaves, Susan was completely taken off guard when a well-groomed horse carrying a stately looking fellow on its back came trotting out into their clearing. The rider was a semi-portly man, not skinny, not fat, of a medium build, muscles clearly visible through his clothes, his long red hair melding with his thick beard which was tied in two braids near the ends.

He brought his horse to a sudden stop and stared at Susan, down at the wolf baring its teeth at him, over to the horse as it stamped its approval at having another equine companion to play with, blinked twice in an attempt to clear his eyes of the obvious trick they were playing on him, and when the trio persisted he blinked twice more in disbelief and confusion. His first thoughts were of the young girl, her hair matted against her scalp and her clothes ripped and dirty, and he wondered why should would be out in the woods all alone. His second thoughts were that she was attacked by the wolf, but the linen carefully wrapped around his body and the way the girl bent to calm him pushed these thoughts from his mind almost as quickly as they had appeared. He decided he would not be able to figure out the situation by guessing and instead chose to just skip the interim and ask the girl.

"My dear girl, what are you doing out here all alone?"

The girl wrinkled her nose and stroked the wolf, calming him more and more with each pass, and the response she gave took him completely off guard.

"What are you talking about, I'm not alone!"

Confused by this answer, he continued his line of questioning unabated.

"My dear girl, why are you all alone? Where are your parents?"

"I just told you, I'm not alone!"

"My dear girl, a wolf an a horse don't count as..."

"Will you stop calling me that? My name is Susan!"

"I'm sorry my dear... I mean Susan, but I had no idea you were called such."

"Well you didn't bother to ask then, did you?"

"No, I guess not. But why are you here in the woods? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead, okay? Are you happy now? They're dead and these two are all I have left, and I'm not letting you take them away from me!"

The man stared down at Susan and a small smile spread across his face.

"I'm sorry Susan, I didn't know. I meant to bring you no pain in remembering the death of your parents, and I would not dream of seperating you from your... companions. I was just startled by your appearance, that is all."

"You were startled? How do you think we feel? I thought you were a mountain lion!"

"You thought I was... a mountain lion?"

He looked more confused than ever.

"It's a long story, and one that I don't feel like going into right now."

"Quite understandably, young one. Where are you planning on going from here, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I..." Susan started, but her lip began quivering and tears began to stream down her cheeks. She collapsed to the floor on her knees and buried her face in her hands, muffling her sobs and hiding her puffy eyes in shame.

"I don't know where I'll go, I don't know what I'm doing. Gods, I don't even know if I'm still alive anymore!"

The man dismounted from his horse with a grunt and hunched beside Susan, laying his hand gently on her shoulder after a moment of deliberation. She brushed his hand off her and he didn't try to comfort her again. He had raised children of his own and knew when they wanted to be left alone.

"Well, Susan, my name is Jeffrey. I live in a town about six miles from here and, if you would like to, you could come and live with me."

She peeked out through her fingers and tried to catch her breath in short gasps between the sobs.

"What... about... Fang... and Lightning... Can they... come too?"

She looked from the wolf to the horse as she said this so Jeffrey understood her meaning immediately. The poor girl had lost everyone she had ever loved and had grown a bond with the animals to survive. He smiled and nodded his head.

"Of course they can. My own children have been gone for many years now, but my house is big and my stable roomy. I would be honored to have all three of you live there if you would let me."

"I can do chores, too. I would be able to carry my own weight. I wouldn't be much of a burden on you, I swear."

"Do not worry about that yet, child, for you seem to have been through a lot lately. You may rest and get better, and when you feel recovered I may have a few chores you could help these old bones with. I take it you like horses then, do you?"

Her eyes lit up like lanterns at this.

"Do I ever! I used to have horses on my farm but Lightning is the only one who..."

Her gaze fell to the ground and, realizing how much it must pain her to remember what had happened, he pushed the subject no further.

"It is settled then. You will come and live with me and, in time, when you feel ready to tell me what has happened I will be ready to listen. Only when you are ready, though. Rest assured, I will not push you into telling. Only you can decide when the time is right."

She sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes, thanking Jeffrey for his hospitality. Jeffrey helped her get on Lightning and climbed on his own steed, looking uneasily down at Fang as he looked uneasily up at him. They rode through the brush and emerged onto a well kept path, travelling a little over three miles before they both realized neither meant the other any harm. They rode the rest of the way in comfort, talking about little more than the weather and the small animals that crossed their path. Just around the time her stomach began to grumble in hunger they rounded a rock formation and the sight which met Susan's eyes took her breath away.

Growing up on a farm she had heard stories of cities and thought their size to be elaborations for dramatic effect. Looking up at the towering ramparts which seemed to scrape the very skies she thought the cities in those stories had been understatements, unable to capture the full grandeur of seeing it with one's own eyes. They rode through the gates where the guards holding watch there saluted Jeffrey. He returned their salute and clapped a fist to his chest. The guards returned the gesture and allowed them the pass, only casting a momentary glance at the wolf which followed in tow.

Susan could hardly believe what she was seeing and was unable to hide that awe from showing on her face. Jeffrey chuckled and smiled at her, hunching over and patting his horse on the neck to calm him as a cart bustled past. They rode through winding streets and alleys and stopped in front of a large mansion where Jeffrey dismounted. Susan could do nothing but sit and stare at the building. It was the largest house she had ever seen in her life and she feared that her legs had turned to jelly and would not support her if she were to stand on them. Jeffrey smiled at her, raised his arms to help her off her horse and spoke two words which warmed her heart.

"Welcome home."

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 8
~Life~

The inside of Jeffrey's home was every bit as big as it looked from the outside. As she recovered from her wounds she spent her time wandering the halls, exploring the many rooms and passageways. There were a few rooms that Jeffrey had insisted were off-limits, and that she was never to enter them, but there were so many others she didn't really mind. Hallway after hallway, corridor after corridor, she opened door after door and peeked inside. One contained rusty old sets of armor, dinged and dented from years of wear in battle. At first they gave her the creeps, but after opening the visor of one to look inside she warmed to them a little. One suit had brown stains which at first she had mistaken for rust but after further inspection she realized the stains were dried blood, drained from its wearer in some battle or another, and after that she didn't play in the armor room anymore. She couldn't bear to think of who might have died in those suits of armor and instead moved on to other rooms.

Across the hallway from the room with the armor was one filled with weapons. Wooden stands were set up to make aisles, holding weapons and instruments of every shape and size. One was a slim sword, gleaming and flawless, obviously having never seen battle. Another was a big, thick sword which Jeffrey later told her was called a broadsword, notched and chipped from years of combat. There were balls and chains, some with spikes and some smooth, and blades that curved like the crescent moon. She explored this room in a mixed sense of horror and fascination but after finding a weapon with what looked to be an ancient piece of scalp with hair still attached to it she lost her fascination with the instruments of death and moved on.

The hallways were beautiful, extravagantly decorated with portraits of some distant relative or another on the walls and intricately designed rugs on the floors. The people in the paintings seemed to watch her as she passed but she knew that was impossible and did her best to ignore the feeling. They all wore the funniest clothes she had ever seen, frilly lace lining their necks and sleeves, odd little hats perched precariously on their heads, and she found herself stifling a laugh every time she saw a new one. She knew they were just paintings and were not haunted by the spirits of the people portrayed in them, but she didn't want them to see her laughing at them just in case their spirits had decided to linger. The last thing she wanted was to make enemies with someone from the other side. Just the thought of a banshee wailing away when she tried to sleep at night sent shivers down her spine.

Some days Jeffrey came with her, explaining things as a tour guide might explain the points of interest in a large city. This painting was of his great uncle Nesmith who, rest his soul, had been trampled by a pack of horses at the age of thirty-five. This one was of his great, great aunt Petunia who had lost her mind near the end of her life and insisted that God was trying to talk to her through her cats. There was old George the fourth who insisted he could fly, setting out to prove it by jumping off the roof of the chapel, failing miserably and landing in a barrel of pickle brine. He didn't die from the fall but instead from the pickles and splintered wood which had impaled him. His great, great grandmother Esther who had spent her life working with orphans and had died of pneumonia during an especially harsh winter. His third cousin Jeremiah who had died leading a platoon of soldiers in the last great war. The list went on and on and there were so many names and faces that eventually Susan didn't try to keep track of them anymore.

Coming to a dead end at one of the hallways on the second floor he poked a finger in a hole in a brick to his right and then pushed on a brick to his left, to Susan's surprise pushing the brick in and opening a secret passage which led to a spiral staircase. Grabbing a candle from its holder on the wall and lighting it on one of the oil lamps in the hallway, they made their way up the stairs and emerged into a room unlike any Susan had ever seen. Jeffrey called it his study but to Susan it looked more like a library. Shelf upon shelf, case upon case, was filled with books. There were books of every shape, size and color. Some were bound in cloth and others in leather. Some had writing on their spines and some were left blank. Some of the writing was in symbols she had never seen before and when she questioned Jeffrey on them he chuckled and told her not to worry herself about those, that they were very old and had been passed through his family for generations. He said that very few people could still read that language. Susan had seen a couple of books in the cases on their farm, some of which her father had read to her at night and some of which he said were not for children, but this was beyond anything she could have ever imagined.

Metal ladders lined the walls, able to be pushed along the shelves on wheels and tracks, and as she followed them up with her eyes she realized just how big the room was. After the first level the ladders led to another, which led to another, and yet another on top of that. Without meaning to speak aloud she mumbled something about how a person could spend their entire life in there without reading every book and Jeffrey laughed and told her that was probably true. They spent the rest of that day going through old books, finding the ones she had remembered from the farm as well as many more by the same authors. He taught her how to open the secret passageways from both sides and as he blew out the candle, replaced it in its holder and pushed the brick wall shut he asked only that she be very careful in there, telling her that the loss of any one of the books would be more than he could bear. She nodded her agreement and the solemn look on her face told Jeffrey that she understood his meaning fully. He put his arm around her shoulder and asked if she was hungry. She was absolutely starving and told him so. He let out a hearty laugh and told her he was too, and that they should go get something to eat.

The kitchen was every bit as impressive as the rest of the house. Seven brick ovens lined the walls and there were four cellars with every type of food imaginable. As they walked down the steps to one of the cellars the temperature dropped, showing Susan her breath in clouds of white before they reached the bottom. Racks of meat of every type hung from steel hooks embedded in the cieling. Stacks of fruits and vegetables lay piled against the walls and cases of what Jeffrey called 'Graf' were piled in one corner. When she asked why he had so much food he told her how he opened his eating hall to the general population twice a week for a feast fit for royalty. She asked how he could afford to do that and he just chuckled, telling her that he had a little extra coin sitting around.

" will," he said, "is sometimes more valuable than any amount of money."

She nodded her head in agreement as they climbed back up the steps, images of the poor and hungry eating as well as any king or queen dancing through her head. Looking up at Jeffrey with his bushy red hair she thought he looked more noble than he had before. It was probably just her imagination, but that didn't change what she saw. Instead of the rough adventurer she had at first imagined him to be she now saw him as a kindly and just ruler, loved and admired by all his people for his pure intentions. He told her to sit on a wooden stool and wait as he went to get their food and vanished down a trapdoor leading into another cellar, emerging minutes later with cuts of meat and a half loaf of bread, vegetables and potatos, making her a quick sandwich of ham on rye and lighting a fire over which sat a giant black kettle. He drew some water into the kettle and began cutting the vegetables and potatos into it, saving the remaining ham for last.

It took her a while to realize that he was making soup but after she did it amazed her with the portions he was cooking. Her and her parents probably ate that amount of food in a week or two. The thought of the two of them eating that much at one sitting made her head spin. Looking over and seeing the surprise on her face, seeming to read her thoughts, he told her that today was one of the days he would feed the people. She asked if he had servants to do things like that and he told her that he did, but he had given them all the day off and didn't mind doing a little dirty work himself, rather that it made him feel more normal.

"Can I help you?" Susan asked timidly.

"Of course you can!" He replied with a laugh.

He showed her how to light the ovens, how to prepare the fires for cooking, how to tell when they were hot and the best way to put things in the ovens to avoid burning yourself. They prepared duck, turkey, chicken, legs of lamb, entire flanks of pork and beef and left the ovens to do their work. In another they put whole potatos to be baked, poking a metal rod through their center, to help cook them from the inside he told her. They chopped vegetables and put them in pots with potatos, water and a variety of herbs and spices. Dish after dish was put into the ovens and it wasn't long before the delicious smells began to engulf the whole room. Susan's mouth began watering and she found that she was hungry again, Jeffrey agreeing that he was also and asking if she wanted another sandwich. She told him that another sandwich would be delightful and he laughed, making them both a sandwich while smiling the whole time. As they sat and ate Susan noticed a sadness in his smile that she had not seen before. It had been there the whole time, she just hadn't given it any thought.

"You said that you had children of your own, didn't you?" She mumbled through a mouth full of bread and meat.

His face showed a momentary pain of extreme sadness and then it was gone.

"You shouldn't talk with your mouth full dear, and yes... well, I did anyway."

"Oh... I see. What happened to them?"

"I've not talked about for years as it pains me to remember..."

"Don't worry about it then, I don't want you to hurt."

"No, my dear, it is time that I faced it. I was once married with two lovely children. There was Jemma, my daughter, and Harold, my son. She was ten and he was eight. One day my wife Theresa, Gods she was an angel, she was taking them on a trip into the mountains and... they were in a horse drawn carriage going up the winding trails. From what I understand there was a snake in the path and it struck out at one of the horses as they passed. The horse was spooked and took off at a gallop. The driver said he tried to stop them but nothing he could do would slow them. The carriage hit a rock and he was thrown from it. He landed on the path and watched in horror as the horses ran right off the edge of the mountain, carrying my wife and children in tow. The drop was so far that I'm sure they died instantly, if that is of any consolation, but I still miss them terribly. It was ten years ago next week that I lost them, and not a day goes by that I don't think of them."

For the next couple of minutes there was an uncomfortable silence and Susan stared down at the table, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes. When she looked up into his face she wasn't as ashamed because she realized that tears were streaming down his cheeks as well. She finished the last bite of her sandwich, stood, walked over to Jeffrey and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him as hard as she could.

"I'm so sorry, if I'd have known I wouldn't have asked."

"No, I'm glad you asked. I haven't spoken of it for so long, it feels better to have it said out loud. It is painful but such is life. At least we have each other, eh?"

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Yes, at least we have each other."

She hugged him even harder.

They stayed that way for a long while, sobbing in each other's arms, and eventually Jeffrey broke the embrace and stood to check on the soup, wiping his eyes and sniffling. Susan timidly followed him and looked up into his eyes as he stirred with a giant wooden spoon. He had a far away look in his eyes. All at once he seemed to remember that Susan was there and looked down at her, the sad little smile returning to his face.

"My wife used to make this soup. Smells , doesn't it?"

"It smells divine!"

He laughed and rustled a big hand through her hair, the sadness draining from his smile and his eyes. After that they checked all the food that was cooking and talked about many things, speaking no more about Jeffrey's wife or his children. Susan understood the hurt of loss and knew that sometimes it was best to just leave things alone. In time she would tell someone of what had happened to her, but not now. She wasn't ready to face those demons yet. The pain was still too near.

The people came and feasted, long tables set with every dish imaginable. They laughed and joked and Jeffrey and Susan sat at their own table, their own portions much smaller than those of the people. She wasn't that hungry after her time in the woods and the story about Jeffrey's wife, but she still ate some food just to be polite. As they finished their meals the people came to the head table and thanked Jeffrey, almost every one of them asking who the young lass was. He told of their chance meeting in the forest and that she had lost her parents and how he would be taking care of her now. As he spoke with them and told the tale over and over again Susan rememberd Lightning and Fang. In her excitement over her new home she had forgotten about them almost completely. They had been taken to the stables and given food and water but she missed them, suddenly wanting nothing more than to bring them some of the amazing food she had eaten and to tell them all about the things she had seen.

She waited until the last of the common folk had left and then asked Jeffrey if she could take some food to her friends. He told her that she could, by all means, and that he was sure she had a lot to tell them. She hugged him and ran to the kitchen, filling two small pots with an assortment of their meal and scuttled as fast as she could out to the stables. The pots were heavy, she had to walk funny to carry them, and by the time she got outside her shoulders had begun to hurt but it didn't bother her. All of it was more than she could have ever hoped for. He understood her love for the animals, a love as deep as he held for his lost family. She sat on a pile of hay and talked deep into the night, gently stroking both Lightning and Fang in turn. Jeffrey poked his head around the corner to check on them shortly after midnight but Susan didn't see him. He smiled and walked back to the house with a sense of peace he had not felt in many years.

At dawn he returned to the stable to find Susan curled up in a ball next to the two animals and quietly made his way into the pen, scooped her up into his arms, and began walking back to the house. Both Lightning and Fang awoke with a look of mistrust, but after a soothing assurance of his intentions they flopped back down and were asleep again in moments. Jeffrey brought her up to the room that had belonged to his daughter and tucked her into bed. She muttered something about cheese and lumberjacks, rolled over and was sound asleep again. He tiptoed out of the room and close the door as softly as he could, cringing when the hinges squeeked and groaned, but when the door was shut he could hear Susan snoring softly behind it. He walked down the hallways, went through the secret passageway, picked up the book he was reading, sat down in a large leather chair and lit his pipe, reading in silence except for his gentle puffing and the soft crackling of the tobacco as it burned.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 9
~Love~

Susan awoke in the morning a little stiff and more than a little confused.

The last thing she remembered was cuddling up next to Lightning and Fang and now she was in the house, in a room, in a bed, covered by sheets and blankets. She blinked to clear the haze from her eyes and started when she realized there was somebody in the room with her, kneeling before the bed, scratching away at something. The person was wearing a strange white frilly hat with an odd black overshirt. She drew her breath in, preparing to scream as loud as her lungs would allow, when the person looked up at her with eyes as frightened as her own. The person was a woman and she dropped whatever she was holding in her hands, stood up and began bowing subserviantly.

"So sorry madaam, I did not mean to wake you. I thought I could clean up a bit in here without making too much noise. I didn't mean to startle you."

Susan simply stared at the woman for a long moment, at a complete loss of words. None of this made any sense, but slowly the world of sleep fell from her mind and understanding began to dawn on her.

"Where am I?" she asked the woman, her voice cracking a little bit near the end.

"You are in your room, miss. The master went out to the stables this morning to check on you and you were sound asleep, so he brought you in here. He was frightened the horse may be spooked and trample you in your sleep. I do apologize for waking you."

She ignored the woman's apology.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Jezzabel. I am one of the master's servants. I'm so sorry to have woke you."

Susan let out a sigh of relief and smiled at the woman who was barely older than herself. She was a maid come to clean the room, not some assasin as she had first thought. The mind of a child waking from slumber, she thought, imagines the most bizarre things.

"No, I'm sorry Jezzabel. I didn't mean to startle you, you were just doing your job. It's just that the last thing I remember was being in the stables so I was a little... taken aback by my surroundings."

"Completely understandable my lady, as would I be."

Susan gently threw the covers back and swung her legs out over the edge of the bed. It was so large that her toes wouldn't even touch the floor as she stretched her stiff muscles and rubbed the sleepiness from her eyes. She yawned and shook her head vigorously as she tried to fully wake herself and when she looked back Jezzabel had recovered the items she was holding, which turned out to be a small brush and dustpan, and was standing dutifully, apparently waiting for orders. Susan smiled at the young woman and stood, swaying slightly as the pins and needles worked their way out of her left leg. She must have slept on it funny.

"Do you know where Jeffrey is?" Susan asked in the most polite voice she could muster.

"Jeffrey?" Jezzabel asked with a look of true confusion on her face.

"You know, big fella, red hair, red beard, brought me in here last night?"

Understanding dawned on Jezzabel's face.

"Ahhh, you mean the master? He is out for the day on business matters. He asked that I make you breakfast and then help you with anything you might need."

"That's very kind of you. What did you have in mind for breakfast?"

"What would you like for breakfast, miss?" Jezzabel asked, bowing her head ever so slightly out of habit.

"I would absolutely adore some bacon and eggs. I haven't had bacon and eggs in ages."

"Bacon and eggs it is then, miss. Would you like to eat now or would you like to wait?"

Susan pondered the question for a moment and then her stomach decided for her, growling its hunger and gurgling away. Both Susan and Jezzabel giggled as only young girls can and Susan said, "Well, I guess that answers that question."

They made their way down the halls and corridors to the kitchen where Jezzabel went to work making Susan's breakfast. She moved with a careful grace that can only come from repeated practice. She went down to a cellar and came back up with slices of pork which she set on a nearby table and then disappeared down another, emerging moments later with a number of eggs stacked precariously on her outstretched arms. She began cracking the eggs into a bowl and then stopped, seeming to remember something she had forgotten. She looked over at Susan, bowl cradled in her left arm, and motioned towards the bowl with her head.

"How would you like your eggs, miss?"

"Oh scrambled is fine with me, how do you like yours?"

Jezzabel was apparently startled by the question and she stammered her response in a stream of words that made little sense.

"My... how... what?"

Susan couldn't help but laugh, covering her mouth and trying to make it look like she was yawning as to not hurt the girl's feelings.

"Your eggs, silly. How do you like your eggs cooked?"

"Well I... I guess I like my eggs scrambled as well."

", scrambled it is then." Susan replied.

Jezzabel began to whisk the eggs and Susan stood to help light the fires.

"Don't worry about that miss, I will take care of it." Jezzabel barked in a soft yet authoratative voice. Susan stood there for a moment, shocked, and then sat back down. She sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds to be heard those of the logs smacking against each other and the flint as they scraped against one another. Once the kindling was lit and the fire began to spread to the logs Susan regained the courage to talk.

"Will you eat with me?" She asked timidly.

"It is not normal practice for the help to eat with the masters, but if you would like me to I will."

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No ma'am, I usually wait until the master is done before I eat."

", it is settled then. You can eat with me. I could use the company."

They smiled at each other and Jezzabel threw the strips of pork in a pan, closing her eyes and smiling as the smells of the searing meat wafted to her nose. Susan had a sudden vision of her mother doing the exact same thing and felt a deep pang of hurt, but before it could fully register in her mind it had passed. Jezzabel turned the bacon over and poured the eggs into a seperate pan, making sure to keep the liquid moving so it would not burn to the metal. It wasn't long before the food was finished cooking and dished out on two plates. The two girls sat and ate, their roles as master and servant temporarily forgotten, and they made small talk and gossiped as any normal girls their age would. They laughed and giggled, telling each other stories they remembered from their childhood. Although they had grown up in two very different places they found many of their memories to be the same.

After the meal was finished and the dishes were washed Susan asked if she could go out and explore the town. Jezzabel told her that she could by all means, that the house was as much hers now as it was the master's, and that it would do her to learn the city a little bit. She warned that there were some less desirable places that could be a little dangerous, and told her how to avoid going through them. Susan thanked her for her kindness, asked for some breakfast for her companions and went outside to the stables where Lightning and Fang stood awaiting her eagerly. They licked their lips with anticipation as they saw her approaching with two pots of food whose odor wafted to their noses even from that distance. Susan rubbed them gently as they ate and then, when they were finished, untied Lightning and walked him out of the stable gates. She stopped and looked back at fang.

"You stay here, okay? And don't go getting into any trouble while I'm gone."

Fang stared at her longingly but seemed to understand as he didn't try to follow her when she left.

Susan mounted Lightning and began riding slowly down the curving streets of the city. The people she passed waved at her and bid her a friendly hello and then continued on their way. She passed bakeries and restaurants and blacksmiths and houses, an assortment of shops that sold things which she couldn't even guess at the use of, wound her way through a small neighborhood where a group of children frolicked and played, laughing and shrieking with cheers of innocence, and then found her way back to the gate she had passed through to come into the city. Part of her wanted to explore more of the bustling metropolis but another part missed the woods. She missed the trees and the wind and being alone with nature and as she looked behind her towards the hustle and bustle of carts rattling over the roads, merchants shouting as they peddled their wares and the children laughing as they played their games, the quiet of the wilderness became more appealing to her.

She gently dug her heels into Lightning's sides and waved politely to the guards who stood watch at the gates. They waved back and saluted her with respect. She returned the salute and then clapped her fist to her chest as she had seen Jeffrey do. The guards seemed to find this amusing as they chuckled and returned the gesture. Susan smiled and turned to the woods, Lightning trotting down the path but continuously sneaking worried glances towards the darkness of the wilderness. He had not forgotten their encounter with the mountain lion and didn't want to be snuck up on again. In a few minutes they passed a large boulder and began making their way through more rocky terrain. What began as a few scattered boulders soon grew to looming monoliths of stone, jutting far into the sky and blocking out the mid-morning sun. The path weaved its way in and out through the mountains and they soon found themselves on a vista looking out over all the land they had traversed on foot. Susan thought she could see the farm she had grown up on far off in the distance but decided it was just the light playing tricks on her eyes. She turned Lightning from the sight and began working their way down the path on the other side, going deeper and deeper into the mountains.

She rode for hours and was just about ready to take a break when she heard voices from around a bend. She dismounted Lightning, motioned for him to stay where he was and then made her way on her hands and knees to look around the corner. Lightning snorted his dismay at being left there but quickly found a patch of grass to keep him occupied. Susan edged her way closer to the bend as Lightning munched happily on the grass. As she got closer to the edge she could begin to make out the voices. There were three of them and they were talking about something meant only for their ears.

"Bastar'd should have died with 'em." One of them said

"Would've been better off, that's for sure." a second added.

"Can you believe the way he wastes food on those wretches?" a third chimed in.

"I know, if you'd have done your job right in the first place we wouldn't have to worry about this then, would we?" the first grumbled.

"Hey, hey, I thought he was in the damned carriage with them, okay? Give me a bloody break, jeez. Ten years and you're still giving me crap about that." the third nearly shouted.

"You had a simple job and you bungled that up nice, didn't you? And you wonder why Jensen won't give you any more jobs." the second blurted.

"Hey, Jensen said he was in the bloody carriage too! It's not my fault he gave us bad information. If he would've told me the old codger wasn't in there I would've offed him some other way and we'd be princes by now." the third cried.

"Only thing you're prince of is prince of the idiots." one said.

"Shut up."

They began to talk softer and Susan edged her way closer to better hear what they were saying. As she neared the bend in the path her hip brushed the rock wall and knocked loose some small pebbles which clattered to the ground. The tiny noise, amplified by the rock walls, echoed in every direction. She heard a rustling and the distinct ring of blades being drawn.

"What was that?"

"It's the bloody spy, I knew it. Let's find 'em and gut 'em quick before they can rat us out. I ain't wearin' a rope necktie for nobody, you hear me?"

Susan's blood ran cold and she was unable to move. She tried with all her will to stand up and run away but her muscles refused to listen. Instead she just waited there on her hands and knees as she heard the crunching of pebbles underneath boots getting closer. Her heart pounded in her head and a cold sweat broke out all over her body as she waited, hoping against hope that they wouldn't find her. The footfalls rounded the corner and then stopped. She heard blades being returned to their sheathes. She didn't want to look up. As a matter of fact she wanted nothing less than to look up, but look up she did. What she saw was worse than anything she could have imagined and the jeering faces which met her eyes made her feel like fainting. She closed her eyes and held them shut tightly, screaming as loudly as her lungs would allow.

"Well what do you know, the old bastar'd was right!" one scoffed.

"I'll be damned, a girl just like he said. And I thought he was jokin'." the second chuckled.

"I want to get me one of them seers too," said the third, "I hear they have to use someone's entrails but I say it's worth it."

"For this nice little lady I'd kill 'em and bring the guts myself." the second added.

One of them grabbed Susan by the arms, which one she didn't know and didn't care, and wrestled her around the bend and into the clearing which they had been using as a camp. She took in a deep breath and screamed again. When she ran out of breath she breathed in more air. Their stink clogged her nose and she gagged on its foulness. They turned her this way and that, examining her as one might examine a rag doll before buying it, and then threw her roughly against a large stone. She hit the stone and cracked the back of her head against it, sending stars shooting past her vision, blacking out for a time. As the world began to come back into focus and her hearing became less muffled she heard them arguing with one another.

"I'm gonna enjoy this, oh yes I am."

"You're going to enjoy it? Not before I do, if you know what's for you!"

"I've got first dibs on 'er, I called it!"

"Like hell you do! I already claimed first before we set out!"

"Both of you shut it, I've got her first and you know it! And keep your voices down. You never know who, or what, is listening."

Susan dropped her head into her hands and began to weep. She sobbed and kept thinking over and over again how this wasn't happening, how she was still asleep and that it was all a bad dream and that she would wake up soon. As they taunted her and jeered at her it became very clear that it wasn't all a bad dream and that she wasn't going to wake up. After all she had been through she was going to die here, slumped against a rock, battered and beaten and who knows what else by these monsters and left to rot in the sun. She prayed to the gods for a miracle to save her and was surprised when her prayers were answered, not in the form of a lightning bolt from the heavens but in the form of a voice. It called out with such force that it brought their taunts to a sudden halt and caused them to spin around in surprise.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

Susan watched the events unfold before her with amazed disbelief. Never in her life had she seen such bravery. Never in her life had she seen such amazing swordsmanship. The savior who stood before her was not a mythical titan of old but a boy, a child, dirty and disheveled looking with tattered clothes and a blade held firmly in his hand.

...


Her story was told and for a long while they walked in silence. Jake didn't know what to say and instead said nothing. Sometimes silence was better than conversation. Sometimes silence said more than words ever could. They rounded a bend and came across a horse. Susan cried out.

"Lightning! There you are!"

She ran to the horse and threw her arms around it, rubbing him gently as she buried her face into his neck. Lightning had run at the first shouts of trouble but Susan didn't blame him for that. She was too happy that he was okay to be mad at him. Sensing his discomfort she took Jake by the hand and introduced him to the horse, Jake nodding his head and offering a small hello, Lightning stamping his hooves and snorting out his greeting. Jake smiled and patted him on the flank and Susan patted him on the other side and they began walking down the path again. They took a couple steps and then stopped, staring deep into each other's eyes.

"I don't know if I want to go back yet." Susan whispered.

"I know, I feel it too." Jake replied.

Somewhere ahead of them, in the city Susan called home, there loomed a cloud of darkness that cast a shadow over everything it touched. It would only lead to pain and suffering and they had experienced their share of both for the day. They broke from the path and led Lightning into the thicket, only having to coerce him slightly before he accepted there to be no danger and went of his own accord. They passed through the trees to what they both thought would be a safe distance from the road, one where a fire would not be seen at night, and began to set up a small camp. Jake used his blade to dig a fire pit in the earth and, when that was done, they set out to find stones to line it with. They gathered stones and wood and brought them back to the fire and then set out to find some food. Within minutes Jake had found some tracks and followed them to a clearing where a buck stood, drinking water from a lake with blissful ignorance.

Jake drew his blade and threw it towards the buck with surgical precision. It tumbled through the air and stuck in the animal's neck, bringing it down before it had a chance to run. They both thanked the gods for the meat and began gutting and cleaning the kill. When they were finished they washed themselves in the lake and set back towards camp, using the large leaves of a plant to wrap the cuts in. Susan had bittersweet memories of her time in the woods and Jake kissed her gently on the cheek, looking into her eyes and filling her heart with happiness. By the time they reached the camp the sun was going down and Jake began to light the fire, scraping his flint until the sparks caught the whispy shavings of wood they used for kindling. The sun went down and the fire burned steadily, serving as both warmth and a cooking tool. They ate in silence and when they were done cuddled together and stared into each other's eyes. They said nothing. They needed to say nothing. Their eyes said everything their mouths could have, but better.

They made love that night. It was a sweet love that only a teenager can experience and one that cannot be described by words, only cheapened by them. They felt the planets and stars and the entire universe move with them. They slept in each other's arms and were as one until the sun had risen and peeked through the trees, shadows falling on their faces and bodies like rays of golden perfection. They awoke at the exact same moment. The fire had long since burnt out. They looked into each other's eyes and kissed, long and deep, before getting dressed, covering the fire in soil to make sure it was out, and then leading Lightning back to the path and continuing on to the city.

As they walked hand in hand they rounded the bend which brought the city into sight. Jake's breath caught in his throat and he gasped at the beauty of what he saw. The only thing more beautiful than the towering ramparts silhouetted in the rays of the morning sunlight was the girl who held his hand. They walked and soaked in the perfection of the morning. The sky was a cool blue without a single splotch of white. The wind blew gently against their faces and through their hair. The pebbles crunched softly beneath their feet.

In this moment everything was as it was meant to be. In this moment they could feel only an infinite love surging through every inch of their being. In this moment they were at peace. In this moment they were together.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 10
~Lost~

Walking through the city gates was like passing into another world for Jake. After his time in the woods and the many days and nights he spent in relative silence, the hustle and bustle of the daily city life was almost too much for him to handle. The guards saluted them as they passed and they saluted back, Susan not clapping her fist to her chest this time. A horse drawn cart carrying barrels of beer clattered past them and Lightning took a step back, nearly stepping on Susan's foot in the process. She patted him gently and whispered into his ear, soothing him until he was calm enough to go on. Susan had already seen the marketplace when it was full of people so she walked through the crowds, Lightning's presence making their passage easier as the villagers would make room for him to pass as soon as they saw him coming. Jake couldn't help but stare at all; the shops and stands which lined the street, selling all sorts of s and wares. Some sold various articles of clothing made of leather, others sold cloth s, shirts and pants and the like. Others sold tailor made shoes of a quality he had never seen before. One sold small knick-knacks, carved wooden statues of little horses and other animals along with what appeared to be children's toys. There were many that sold food of every type, and at the sight of these his mouth began to water and his stomach started to growl at him. He hadn't eaten since the night before and he was very hungry.

As they walked down streets and alleyways Jake followed Susan, hoping that she knew where she was going. They had only rounded a half a dozen corners but he was already lost. He reached down and grasped her hand, holding it tightly for fear of losing her. She looked down at their intertwined hands and then up into his eyes, smiling and kissing him lightly on the cheek. After that he wasn't worried anymore. A kiss from the love of your life has a way of calming your nerves. They kept walking, hand in hand, and it wasn't long before they came to a giant building and stopped. Jake's breath caught in his throat. He tried to speak but the only thing that would come out was a gasping sigh. Susan giggled and pulled him along, bringing them both towards what looked to be a stable. She lifted the latch from the outer gate and walked Lightning inside, opening another gate into a stall and tying the horse up to a post inside. Lightning quickly found a bucket of oats that had been left out for him and began munching away happily. As susan went to close the gate a wolf jumped out and knocked her to the ground. Jake drew his blade, ready to skewer the beast and save his love, but a sudden cry of his name stayed his hand. Susan was laughing and hugging the beast and so Jake returned his sword to its sheath.

After doing her best to avoid Fang's licks to her face, and failing miserably at it, she finally pushed him off of her and began stroking his fur gently, smoothing out some clumps that had become matted since they last saw one another. Fang noticed Jake for the first time and bared his teeth, growling at the intruder as menacingly as possible. Susan shouted his name and reprimanded him.

"Fang! No! He's a friend. It's okay, you can trust him."

She stroked the wolf gently and did her best to reassure him of Jake's intentions. Fang looked at Jake, over to Susan, and then back to Jake again. He stopped growling but his eyes would not leave Jake's. No matter how hard she tried Susan could not get Fang to trust the newcomer. She thought that was understable after all they'd been through together and herded the wolf back into the pen where she closed the gate and walked away, Fang staring mistrustfully out at them as they left. They walked out of the stable, she fastened the latch on the main gate and they walked towards the house. As they neared the door Jake got his pants caught on one of the bramble bushes which lined the front of the house and had to struggle to get himself free. He tugged hard and his pants ripped, leaving a little scrap of the cloth sticking to one of the thorns. He muttered a curse at the bushed under his breath and Susan giggled again. He smiled at her and they walked to the door. Susan grabbed the knob and turned it. Before she could push on it, the door swung wide open.

"You! There you are! Where were you? You had me so worried. Don't do that again, do you hear me? I thought I'd lost you."

Jeffrey came bursting through the door, Jezzabel in tow, and kneeled down to hug Susan. He picked her up and held her tight, rocking back and forth as he whispered his thanks that she was okay. He set her down and began to ask her another question, stopping mid sentence when he noticed the boy standing next to her. He frowned at Jake and narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Jake opened his mouth but before he had a chance to reply Susan spoke.

"He's a boy I met in the mountains."

Jeffrey's eyes widened and his jaw fell open.

"The mountains? Sweet gods girl, what were you doing in the mountains?"

Susan clasped her hands behind her back and her eyes fell to the ground.

"I just wanted to go out exploring. I didn't think I would get into any trouble. I ran into these three bad men and they were going to hurt me but Jake here came just in time and saved me."

"Saved you, did he? Is that so?"

Jeffrey looked down thoughtfully at the boy.

"Yes, he saved me. And it's a thing too because they were going to do mean things to me. And..."

Susan stopped mid sentence, remembering what the three had been talking about when they had heard her sneaking up to get a better listen.

"There's more I need to tell you, but not out here. Can we go inside and get some food? I'm very hungry, and I'm sure Jake is too."

"Yes, yes. By all means, let us get inside. We have a lot of talking to do."

Jeffrey held the door open and let them inside, Jezzabel standing by and watching the whole exchange with a look of worried wonder on her face. After they were all inside Jeffrey looked left and right and then left again, let out a sigh and frowned deeply, followed them inside and shut the door behind him.

Food was already cooked and waiting in the kitchen and as they talked they ate. Susan began at the beginning with her going through the market and quickly moved on to her leaving the city. She told of how she saluted the guards and clapped her fist to her chest. Jeffrey smiled at that and chuckled a little. Jezzabel sat on a stool on the other side of the room, her subservient posture returned. Susan told of how she had taken lightning through the mountain pass and had heard voices around the bend. She told of how she had gotten down on her hands and knees and edged her way out further to hear better. When she got to the part about what they were discussing her hands began to tremble and Jake took one of them in his own, assuring her that everything was going to be okay, that she should take it slow and just tell them what they had said. Susan looked up into Jeffrey's eyes with tears in her own.

"They said they killed your wife and child."

Jeffrey's eyes widened and his face went pale.

"They said that they had meant to kill you too, that you were supposed to be in the carriage, but that someone named Jensen had given them bad information. They argued a little and then I... I hit the wall and knocked some pebbles loose. They heard me. They heard me and came around the corner. I couldn't move. They grabbed me and threw me against a rock and were going to kill me when Jake showed up. He fought them, Jeffrey. He fought all three of them and he won! He saved my life."

Jeffrey stared through her with a grim look on his face and spoke as if he were the walking dead.

"What else did they say? I want you to tell me everything."

"They said something about a seer, that they knew I'd be there, and something about the seer needing entrails. I don't remember, it's too hard."

Susan burst into tears and Jake held her close against him, muffling her weeping as he felt her tears moisten his shirt. Jeffrey simply stared off into nothing for a long while before speaking.

"That bastar'd. That two timing, ungrateful little swine. I knew I should have gutted him when I first saw him. Gods, if I had listened to my instinct my... my wife and children... they'd still be alive."

Jake had no idea what he was talking about.

"What do you mean?" Jake asked.

"He was the one. He was the one who said how lovely a day it was and suggested I should go on a picnic with my family. I had just won the election, you see, and I was just feeling so . I felt like nothing could touch me, that everything was right in the world, but I wanted to finish up some paperwork before going out to the country. I told them to leave, my wife and children. I told them to go and that I would come to meet them as soon as I had finished. Jensen thought I was in the carriage with them."

Sudden understanding dawned on his face.

"The wench. The wench wasn't there yet! Gods, how could I have been so blind. After my family died he hired an assistant to help him with his job. He said that my grief was too great and that he didn't want to see me burn myself out. He's been playing me. He's been playing me the whole damned time. Ten years!"

Jeffrey shouted and slammed his fists down onto the table, sending his mug of graf tumbling to the floor. Jezzabel quickly scurried over to clean it up. He didn't seem to notice any of that.

"For the past ten years he's been lying to me. All this time. All this time and he's.... oh... I going to kill him. I'm going to ring his little neck until his eyes burst. I'm going to..."

Jeffrey let out a scream of such unimaginable pain and suffering that it sent gooseflesh up all of their spines. His shout was deep and long and loud and when he finished he just sat there, fists clenching on the table top so tightly his knuckles were turning white, breathing deeply in and out and staring off into the corner. Nobody said a word. Nobody dared break the silence. They sat like that for a few minutes before Jeffrey suddenly stood, overturning his chair and kicking it away, and stormed from the room. Jake, Susan and Jezzabel sat staring at each other in petrified horror for a few moments before they all ran out of the room to follow him.

They reached his living quarters to find an open door and the peeked inside. He stood at the foot of his bed strapping sword and dagger and armor to his body. He hefted a solid metal shield from the floor and barged past them, barely noticing they were there. As he stomped down the hallway they followed behind him at a safe distance. They were scared and didn't want to get too close just in case he decided to take his anger out on one of them. He headed towards the front door and as he neared it it swung open on its own accord. He stopped dead in his tracks and there, standing in the doorway, silhouetted in the dusty light, stood a frail old man in a plain brown robe. The old man was smiling.

"You!" Jeffrey bellowed.

"Yes, me." the old man grunted as he cracked a small smile. The smile shown on his lips but it did not reach his eyes. In his eyes there was only coldness. The corner of his mouth trembled slightly as he took a step forward.

"I am here but, sorry to say, you are too late m'lord."

"Too late for nothing, I will kill you yet!" Jeffrey roared and pulled his sword from its sheath, slicing a path through the air which headed straight for the old man's neck. Jensen calmly stood his ground and waited as the sword whistled its way towards him in slow motion. His smug little smile never left his face and at the last moment, right before the blade buried itself in his flesh, he raised his index finger on his right hand and the sword just stopped, frozen in mid swing as if it had buried itself in a mighty oak tree. Jeffrey pushed harder, his muscles bulging and flexing with the effort, but he couldn't make it move. Jensen's smile spread to his eyes and he spoke in a cold, lifeless tone. It was the voice one would expect to hear from the grim reaper as he came to claim your soul.

"I am terribly sorry to do this in front of the children, but I've let you live long enough. bye, my lord."

Jensen raised his right hand, palm flat and facing forwards, and made a pushing motion. To their surprise Jeffrey flew through the air as if he were struck by a galloping horse and was thrown across the foyer, sword clattering across the floor and sliding underneath a nearby sofa. He hit the wall with a sickening thud and slid down it, slumping over as blood began to run out of his nose. Jezzabel ran to him and before she could reach him Jensen made a twisting motion with his hand, sending her tumbling through the air and crashing into a side table topped with a beautifully colored glass lamp which shattered on the floor. Her body twisted in ways the human body is not meant to bend and then came to a stop, lying perfectly motionless in a heap on the floor. Jensen turned towards Jake and Susan and raised his hand. Jake pulled Susan behind him and glared at the old man with an intense hatred that burned through his veins. The old man laughed and lowered his hand.

"You are of no concern to me now, little ones. It is done. Before this day is over you shall all die. I will let you live a little longer. Just don't get in my way or I'll make sure you suffer before you go. She'll go first and I'll make you watch." he cackled, pointing at Susan with a bony finger. He turned around quickly, sending his cloak flapping out behind him, walked out of the door and it shut behind him. For a moment they stood in silence, afraid to even move, but then Susan began to weep and fell to her knees before Jeffrey's lifeless corpse. She cradled his head in her arms and didn't care about the blood which got on her clothes. She was too numb to care. She had lost her father all over again.

Jake glared at the closed door and muttered, "I'll kill him." standing to rush out and chase Jensen down and make him pay for what he had done. Susan grabbed his arm and held him there, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him as tightly as she could.

"Don't leave me!" she shouted.

His thinking clouded by a haze of anger, Jake had a momentary impulse to shrug her off and go after the old man anyway. Looking down at his love weeping against his chest his anger cooled and he started thinking. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back. There had to be a way to deal with this. The old man had godly powers but there had to be a way to kill him. There was always a way. Before he could think any further on the subject there came a great crash from outside and the sounds of many screams met his ears. The ground began to vibrate beneath their feet and the walls shook so hard the pictures which were hung there were knocked to the ground, shattering the glass that covered them. Susan let go of him and backed against the wall, trying to find something to hold on to. It felt like the whole world was about to fall over. Jake rushed to the door and threw it open. He was greeted by a sight he had hoped never to see, but one he smiled at all the same. An army was approaching.

The bodies of half a dozen villagers lay in the street, impaled by arrows, as a swarm of the innocents ran for whatever cover they could find. The sun darkened as another volley of arrows sailed through the air and struck, killing another dozen people in a gruesome display. One old woman in particular caught Jake's eye as an arrow pierced her throat and she held her neck, staring at the sky with a shocked look and groping at her wound in an attempt to pull the arrow from it. Blood poured down her front and soaked her robes, forming a puddle beneath her. She went pale and collapsed. Jake's anger returned and he ran to Jeffrey's room in a flash. Two large metal shields caught his eye and he grabbed them, not feeling their weight as he hefted them, nearly dislocating his left shoulder. He ignored the pain, used it to fuel his rage, and ran back to where Susan was now slumped against the wall. He thrust a shield into her arms and shook her, violently but not unkindly, and yelled his instructions at her.

"They're firing from that direction," he said, pointing towards the main gate. "Keep this shield between you and their arrows or you'll die."

Susan just stared at him for a moment and then blinked, seeming to snap out of the daze she had fallen into, her confusion and sadness replaced with anger and hatred. He jammed her arm through the loop and she clutched the support with all of her might, smiled at him and nodded her head. The look on her face scared even Jake. Looking into her eyes he was glad she was on his side. He took her left hand in his own, ran to the doorway and waited. After the next volley of arrows came he rushed out into the street, dragging her along behind him. She nearly lost her footing but somehow managed to stay standing, running behind Jake as fast as her feet would carry her. She looked around at all of the dead bodies which lay in the street and grew even angrier. Suddenly she remembered Lightning and Fang. She yelled at Jake to stop, saying that they needed to go back for the animals. Jake looked over his shoulder at her, his piercing gaze throwing needles of ice through her heart, and spoke three words she didn't want to hear.

"It's too late."

Looking over her shoulder she saw that he was right. The stables had been lit afire and flames billowed out as black smoke rose into the air. She went numb. She had lost everything. Her entire life was gone. Jake was all she had left now. As she stared at the burning embers as they twirled into the darkening sky Jake came to a sudden halt, almost pulling her over as she ran past him. He fell to one knee and pulled his shield above him, yelling that she do the same, and quickly. She pulled her own shield above her head and had just fallen to one knee when a hail of steel and wood rained down on them. Jake held his shield above him with a grim look on his face but remained silent. Susan screamed as loud as she could, certain that each arrow that fell around them would be the one to kill her. In a few moments the rain of arrows stopped and they waited a couple of seconds before standing. As they lowered their shields a stream of villagers came running past them, screaming and shouting and jumping around like that would help anything. A group of swordsmen had breached the gates and were marching through the streets, slaughtering any who were in their path without mercy. Jake pushed Susan behind him and shouted at her to stay there. He said that he would protect her.

The soldiers marched through the streets, stabbing all who had fallen and stepping on their chests or necks to pull their blades free. Jake raised his shield, tightened his muscles and charged right into them. A calm washed over him and time seemed to slow down. He slashed at any open flesh he saw. He used his shield to disarm the soldiers and then stabbed them through the throats. At first they hadn't taken a child seriously, even one wielding a sword and shield, but after he had killed seven of them before they could even raise their swords to attack they knew he was a threat. They broke rank to try to flank him but it was too little too late. His blade sliced through flesh and bone, cutting the legs out from under them and severing heads in a single fluid motion. In less than ten seconds he had dispatched the majority of the soldiers and was left with only a few stragglers. He knocked the shield from one's hand and stabbed him through the heart, leaning back to dodge a sword as it cut right in front of his face. He used his odd positioning to stab another in the knee, bringing his shield down on his head as he fell. The shield got stuck and he let it drop, using his sword to block a blow that would have cleaved his own skull in two. He kicked the last soldier in the chest and stabbed him on the ground, pulling his blade free and glancing around to make sure he had taken care of all the them. They were dead, and the ones that weren't would be shortly. He turned to take Susan's hand to lead her to safety but found nothing. He turned the other way and saw nothing. Susan was gone.

Calling her name he ran through the streets, cutting through wave after wave of soldiers. Figuring she must have been swept away in the crowd he made his way further into the city. The wall had been breached in multiple places by their catapults and troops surged into the city. He used every tactic he could think of. He picked up blades from the fallen enemies and hurled them into the groups of soldiers. He threw shields and disembodied heads into the mass and hoped they would do some damage, if not physical then emotional. He didn't think he just acted. Working his way down street after street he killed. One soldier managed to inflict a small wound on his left bicep but it only sent him into a rage, swinging his sword harder and faster than he had before. One charged ahead of his unit and barreled straight for Jake, hoping to stab him in the stomach and return home a hero. Jake parried the blow and wrenched the blade from his hand as he sliced halfway through the back of the man's neck. He used both blades and killed twice as fast, deflecting and inflicting pain with surgical precision.

He had backed his way into a corner and fought like a rabid animal did when cornered. The troops managed to inflict a couple of other minor wounds but nothing too serious. As he was finishing up the last of the latest group to see him he noticed a small storage hut which looked like it would make a hiding spot. He was getting tired and needed to rest, if only for a minute, before he could continue looking for Susan. Killing the last of the soldiers and checking quickly to make sure no others had spotted him he bolted for the door. Reaching for the bronze knob his hand brushed the green frame and jammed his knuckle. Pain shot through his arm but he ignored it and grabbed the knob, trying to turn it with futility. His hands were soaked in blood and he couldn't get any traction. He threw his weight against the door and tried to knock it in with his shoulder. It took three blows but the frame finally cracked and the door flung open. He stumbled into the hut and used the inside of his shirt to wipe the bloody handprints from the frame and doorknob, thanking the gods that the door was painted red so nobody would notice a little blood on it. He slammed the door shut and held it closed with one foot, panting and trying to catch his breath. A hand grabbed his shoulder and he spun around quickly and stabbed. In the dusty rays of light which streamed through the holes in the roof he could see Susan's eyes go wide and her jaw fall slack.

She stared at him for a long moment, looking hurt and confused, tears streaming from her eyes, and then let go of his shoulder. She took a step back and pulled the blade from her stomach. She tried to talk but a gurgling moan was all that came out. She clutched her gut and fell to the floor, staring up at the thatched roof as blood began to trickle from the sides of her mouth. Jake dropped his sword and rushed to her side, cradling her head in his arms, wiping the blood from her mouth and telling her she was going to be okay. She looked up into his eyes, slowly raising one hand to caress his cheek. She smiled at him and mouthed the words, "I love you," her teeth stained red with blood. She tried to cough but could not. She tried to breath but inhaled only blood. Darkness began to encroach on her vision and stars began to dance and fall before her eyes. As they sat on a bed of hay in that dusty hut while soldiers ran past outside, never checking their hiding place, her eyes glazed over and the life left them. Holding her in his arms Jake watched the love of his life die. He had killed her.

Jake awoke with a blood curdling scream and fell from the bunk to the muddy floor of his cell. His agonized cries echoed down the halls and corridors of the prison until his voice gave out on him. His heart ached with an indescribable pain. He curled up in a puddle of muddy water and wept for what seemed an eternity.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Book III
Redemption

"When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we'll see
No I won't be afraid,
No I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand,
Stand by me"

~Ben E. King~


Chapter 1
~Hope~

Duncan awoke to a primal scream of pain unlike any he had ever heard. The sheer agony contained within sent shivers up his spine and chilled him to the bone. It echoed down the hallway, awaking every person in his cell block, and then died down to a pathetic whimper and finally ended in silence. Somehow he knew that it belonged to Jake.

He had been taken shortly after Jake had left him, both him and his mother had. The troops swarmed the city and grabbed every citizen they could, only resorting to the blade when absolutely necessary. Despite his cries of dismay his captors had left Conner's body lying on the porch of his home. Most had the decency to step over the boy's corpse, but some just walked over it like it wasn't even there. Duncan had cringed and spat out a stream of curses that would make even the most hardened of sailors blush when one soldier had stepped on his brother's fingers, crushing them with an audible crunch. His last breath was expelled from his body as boots crushed the boy's ribcage, but all of his pleas to be allowed to bury Conner's body fell on deaf ears. Duncan and his mother were dragged off through the streets, bearing witness to the chaos ensuing all around them, until the soldiers grew tired of his squirming and clouted him hard on the back of the head. In the moment before his vision went black, right after the flash of white and the dancing stars, he saw families being torn apart as both parent and child begged for mercy. He saw nothing after that but was quite sure they had been shown none.

Sitting in his dark, dank cell on his hard bed of stone the memories brought tears to his eyes. He was alone with his thoughts and so there was no reason to hold back his tears. All around him he heard the weeping of those mourning the loss of their loved ones, whether dead of simply taken nobody knew. In this place of horrid despair, in the long hours of the night, the worst of thoughts crept into your mind. He felt no shame in crying and made no attempt to stifle the sounds of his mourning. They had killed his brother and possibly his mother and in the darkness their names mixed with the names he heard of all the lost from his fellow prisoners. He couldn't imagine a place more closely resembling hell. Even rivers of molten fire would be a welcome release from the feel of cold, wet stone against his skin and the constant dripping of unseen water. From time to time a rat would scurry by but he found himself envying them, able to climb through the bars of the cells as they pleased.

One day a guard came through, as they usually did, with a torch, which was very unusual. This guard he had come to call gruel, as that was what he brought with him when he arrived. A gruel that tasted like dirt and vomit, but somehow managed to keep him alive. The guard, horribly disfigured with a scar running through one eye and a severe burn covering most of the other side of his face, had left the bowl of grey slop as well as some light, a torch in a brazier down near the end of the hall. It was a pale, weak light but it provided Duncan with a sense of safety. It allowed him to see what he had become, weak and withered from the dark and malnutrition, and finally get a look at his small little world.

The walls were dark stone, black as night. The floors were stained with mud and filth and god knows what else. He tried not to think about it, especially a stain that looked suspiciously like blood. Spider webs hung from the ceiling in ornate patterns, woven over months and maybe even years. The bars were rusted and worn, but they were still thicker than his wrist. He had held some hope deep inside his heart of hearts that he might escape, but what he saw gave him no comfort. Perhaps that was all part of their plan in leaving the torch this one time after so long in the dark. Let the prisoners imagine how they might escape and then bring the harsh reality of their situation crashing down on them. Crafty ds. He sighed in resignation, picked up the bowl of gruel from the floor, grimaced and he gagged the disgusting slop down, and then curled up on the floor and drifted back to sleep.

When he awoke the torch was gone. It hadn't provided much light but he missed what little comfort it had brought him. Once again he was alone with his thoughts. He saw his brother dying in his arms over and over again. Varying scenes of his mother dying flashed through his mind with disturbing detail. He tried to push it from his mind but felt moisture on his face, only then realizing that he was crying. He let it take hold of him and wept like a baby, curled up against the wall as tightly as he could, hoping that he might somehow feel safe in this place. It didn't work nearly as well as he wanted as it seemed only to remind him of the soldiers taking hold of him. He didn't notice the light slowly returning or the key turning in the lock, and barely registered when the door to his cell swung open and his gaoler stepped inside. A sharp kick to his side brought him back to the here and now.

"Shut up you baby," Bread And Water barked at him, "I'm tired of listening to your bawling. My little sister doesn't cry half so much as you do, and she's married to some fat rich slob who beats her something fierce on a regular basis. Like clockwork, he is. Anyway, the master wants to talk to you, and you don't want to be all weepy eyed when you see him, now do you? Eat this fast," he spat, dropping the bowl on the ground with a crack, sending half the water spilling over the sides and onto the bread, "I'll be back with the master shortly, and you better be done eating by then. He doesn't like people who talk and eat at the same time. He finds it rude. Whipped the last fella who did it and had him skinned alive, he did."

With that, Bread And Water turned and left, closing the door behind him with a clang. The key turned in the lock and the light slowly faded down the tunnel until it was all but gone. Duncan felt around on the ground until he found the bowl of water and chunk of bread and dug into them ravenously. As he drank something scratched at his throat and crunched between his teeth. As he ate something wriggled and squished in his mouth. He tried to ignore the grit and maggots, pretending they were garnishings on a freshly prepared meal with little success. He gagged it down and just in time too as when he was forcing the last bit down his throat the light began to grow down the halls. In moments two men appeared in the hallway; one of them he recognized, the other of which he was sure he didn't want to know.

The man was old, wrinkled, dressed in dark robes with the hood pulled up. Whispy strands of hair stuck out in a way that would be comical if their owner wasn't so terrifying to behold. There was nothing particularly scary about the look of the old man, but looking at him felt like breaking through thin ice and falling into the icy waters below. They reached his cell and the door was unlocked and opened. The old man stepped inside, crossing his arms inside his sleeves in a way that made him look like a monk.

"Why, hello there Duncan," he spoke softly, almost friendly even, "I see you've finished your meal. , . Then we can get right down to business. I have need of your services. I wish to raise an army the likes of which haven't been seen for a millennia. With this army I shall bring every province under my rule and finally bring peace to this world, end this meaningless conflict. You'd like that wouldn't you? To be able to live in peace?"

Duncan spat on the floor at the man's feet, regretting it almost immediately after the glob of mucus had left his lips.

"You make me sad. I offer you peace, happiness, all you could ever want, and you spit at me. What have I ever done to harm you?"

"You killed my brother, attacked my home, and stuck me in this stinking cell to rot, for starters. You can take your offer and shove it. I'll never help you."

The old man chuckled.

"My dear boy, I apologize if I gave the impression that you had a choice in the matter. You will help me, whether you like it or not. Now be a boy and tell me what I want to hear."

"Go to hell, I said I wasn't going to help you."

The old man stared at Duncan for a moment with a look of pure contempt, shrugged his shoulders, turned to face the gaoler who was waiting at the door and held his thumb and forefinger to his chin as he scratched at his stubble in thought. After a few moments he lowered his hand and pointed down the hall.

"That one there, fourth on the left. Bring them here."

Bread And Water nodded, walked over to the barred doors and unlocked them. He went inside and came out dragging a small child behind him. The boy was about the age Conner had been and was struggling, but he didn't make a sound. Perhaps he was too frightened to. The boy was brought into the cell and stood up in the center of the small room. The old man smiled his friendliest smile and looked down at him.

"Hello there, young man. Could you do me a favor a lift your shirt?"

The boy shook his head in defiance, eyes wide with fear.

"Please?" the old man's smile faded a little. The boy shook his head again. The smile left the old man's face entirely.

"Lift your shirt now, or I'll go in that cell and kill your brother and then your mother, boil their flesh in a pot and make you eat it."

The boy looked on the verge of tears but did as he was told. He lifted his shirt and held it up to his chest, closing his eyes as tightly as he could.

"That's a lad." The old man said, smiling as he pulled a small dagger from the folds of his robe. With one swift motion he stabbed the boy in the stomach and swiped the blade across his belly, sending his innards spilling onto the floor. The boy opened his eyes and stared at his exposed intestines, turning white as a sheet before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed onto the floor. The old man raised his hands in the air and smiled his smile again.

"Voila, and there you have it! Just like that. Now what have you to say, young man? Shall I do another or should we just move on to me beheading your mother and leaving her head in here for you to think on? I'm sure it gets quite lonely in here and you could use a little bit of company. No? Cat got your tongue?"

Duncan was too shocked to speak. He watched as the puddle of the boy's blood slowly spread across the floor. When he finally found the words to say they wouldn't come out so he just shut his eyes, turned his head away from the gruesome scene, and nodded.

"That's a lad, I knew you were a smart one. It's settled then, we shall start tomorrow at dawn. Make sure you sleep tonight, you'll want to be well rested for tomorrow."

The old man turned to leave but stopped halfway down the hall and spoke to the gaoler.

"Clean that up will you, and see that the pigs are well fed tonight. I don't want to smell the stench of rot on the morrow."

After the old man had left Duncan stared at the man holding the torch. The light danced and filckered, making his face seem an illusion. His vision blurred and he realized that he was crying again.

"How can you help that monster? Why would you help him?"

He smiled a sad little smile, set the torch in a holder outside of the cell and lifted his own shirt. An ugly scar ran across his abdomen, deep and poorly healed. After letting Duncan get a long look at it he lowered his shirt, knelt down and began to gather up the limp corpse of the boy.

"We all have choices to make, lad." he said, "But some choices are easier to make than others."

He dragged the corpse out of the cell, closed and locked the door, and dragged it down the hall and out of sight. He left the torch there and Duncan found he could not stop staring at the puddle of blood. Finally he made himself turn away, curled up into a ball facing the damp walls, and eventually slept. It was a restless sleep but it was dreamless, and for that he was thankful.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 2
~Elaina~

The cell was as black as her mood.

Elaina had been a normal child, happy and energetic. She went to the shops with her mother and tried on fancy clothes, laughing as they pretended to be snooty royalty. She used to rough-house with her father, tumbling and rolling on the ground until they were both out of breath and could only lie in the grass and laugh. She used to smile. She used to do a lot of things. Now, nothing she did seemed to matter anymore.

Her mother had taken sick shortly after they had moved to the city. Her father insisted it was something in the air, but whatever it was it killed her all the same. One morning Elaina, or Leenie as her mother had liked to call her, had brought her mother breakfast in bed. No amount of shaking or pleading would wake her. They buried her in the field behind their house where she had enjoyed sitting and watching the sun set. It was the very field where Leenie was concieved, although her parents never told her that. After that Leenie was never the same, but she still had her father so he kept some joy in her life. That joy, which would set the trend for the rest of her life, was short-lived.

Two weeks after her mother died her father was accused of poaching, the city guard saying they had found a deer carcass near his home that he had killed and taken for his own, wrongly stealing from the king and, in turn, the people. Leenie hadn't had deer meat in years and knew the charges to be false. She pleaded with the king and queen when they took audience with them but they were not lenient in their sentence. Her father was set to be executed. She was ordered to witness the execution, clean up the aftermath and then bury the corpse. Needless to say the king and queen were a bitter, wicked pair. Leenie never forgave them. She watched her father die and mopped up the gore from his beheading. She was forced to carry his severed head and toss it in a cart, drag his body to the cart, wheel it out of the city while the entire general population watched and then bury him in an unmarked grave with not so much as a stone to identify his final resting spot. From there her life only got worse.

She didn't like to think about the rest of her life. Hell, she didn't even remember most of it. She had blocked it out and went through it all in a daze. She felt nothing, pain nor joy. She forgot how to laugh, how to cry, how to love. She welcomed the sweet release of death but it never came. She prayed for change but her prayers were never answered. She took up a life of crime, stealing and killing for coin, food and room and board. She spent most of her time imprisoned but didn't care. Behind bars she didn't have to worry about where or when her next meal would be. Behind bars she didn't have to worry about anything.

Her last job had been a big one. She had been sent to assasinate a counciler of high standing in the king's court. She killed him, but his blasted wife had snuck up behind her and knocked her over the head with a chamber pot. She woke up staring into the darkness, listening to the dripping of unseen water. Since then she had lived in limbo, not seeing, not tasting the meals they brought her (which was probably a blessing) and hoping everyday for death.

One day her routine of nothing was broken when an old man she had never seen before, dressed in plain brown robes, came to see her in the dead of night. She couldn't see the sun - hadn't seen it in years as a matter of fact - but she guessed the hour was late when the guard who let the old man in couldn't stop yawning and kept trying to rub the haze from his sleepy looking eyes. He'd yawn, rub his eyes, blink a couple of times, look around the room with a wide-eyed confused stare, blink a couple more times and then yawn again.

The old man came with a proposition for her. He said that the city was in danger, the people under threat from a nameless force. There would be war, of that he was sure, but with a few choice people in the right positions of authority they would be able to turn the tide of battle and protect their home. He droned on about duty and honor and home for what seemed to be hours. She blocked him out after a little while, nodding her head seriously at parts she deemed to be important. She was hoping he would eventually get to the point when he slapped her hard across the face and shouted, "Pay attention now, child, this is the important part."

He said that she was already with a blade, more than he could say for most of the worthless peasants who lived and worked here, and that she may be able to help them learn to be warriors. She didn't care either way. She just wanted the old man to stop talking and so she nodded her head in agreement. He seemed pleased with her decision. He leaned in closer and spoke quietly into her ear.

"There is one who will lead these people. He goes by the name Duncan and, if I'm right, he could be the best warrior this city has ever seen. I want you to get close to him. Watch him, learn from him, report back to me with his plans. Let me know if he starts doing anything strange. I don't want to have to put down another rebellion. I had to burn my favorite robes from the last one, and it's so hard to get Esellion silk nowadays." He tittered and rubbed his hands together in excitement.

Joints popping, he struggled to his feet and motioned for the guard to open the cell door. When the door was opened he set his hand on Leenie's head, gently patted her as one might pat a dog, then turned and left. As she watched the light fade down the corridors she began to imagine what this Duncan would look like. She had visions of a tall, thick bearded man covered in scars and tattoos. One eye was white and stared out at her blindly, the other as black as night. His hair, matching the blackness of his one eye, cascaded down to his waist and shone brightly in the light. His muscles bulged and rippled beneath his clothes. He could twist off a man's head as easily as she might pull the head off a child's doll. Given a moment's opportunity he would kill her where she stood.

As the hours passed her mind elaborated more and more on the horrible beast she was to encounter. When sleep finally took her she found herself dreaming of her home for the first time in years. Her mother and father were still alive, holding each other in their arms while they gently swung on a hanging bench. Leenie herself played out in the yard, rolling and laughing and chasing the butterflies as they fluttered off into the setting sunlight. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was actually laughing. Part of her knew it was a dream - her parents were dead and nothing in her life brought her any joy now - but she savored every moment of it all the same. She clung to the beauty of it for as long as she could but, as it is with all dreams, sooner than she would have liked she awoke to find only the darkness of her cell to bring her joy. She rolled over, curled into a ball and, for the first time in years, she cried.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 3
~The Courtyard~

The warmth of the sun brought a smile to his face.

Being trapped in the dank depths of the dungeons for what seemed to be months made Duncan forget just how sunlight felt. Standing out in the courtyard of this foreign city, birds chirping in tree branches as gusts of wind blew through them, brought the memories flooding back; memories of his childhood; of running through fields of grain with his brother; of his mother yelling her dismay as they wrestled around in the dirt. The memories were bittersweet but he cherished them. Memories were all he had left of that life, and he'd be damned if he let them take that away from him.

He'd agreed to help the strange old man train an army, and train an army he would. He didn't know how, wished Jake was there to help him, but he knew he would have to try. As he walked through the winding streets and alleyways towards the place where he was told to meet his troops he watched as merchants on passing carts peddled their wares, as children chased cats through the city streets, screeching and giggling as they darted this way and that, some adults scolding them while others just watched and smiled. A passing old woman, her spine as bent and crooked as the cane she used to support herself, asked if he had a couple coppers to spare. Duncan turned his pockets inside out and apologized, but the old woman simply patted him on the cheek and smiled. He stood and watched in wonder as she hobbled off down the path and disappeared in the crowd of peasants.

After walking for most of the morning he finally reached a set of stairs that led up to a great courtyard, one that made the one he had emerged from the dungeons into seem like a drop of water in a vast ocean. Statues of various old gods stood silent watch amongst seemingly endless rows of stone and marble paths. A large part of the courtyard was filled with villagers, small camp fires dotted here and there serving as a gathering point for groups of friends, family and even complete strangers. Looking across the sea of humanity he thought that this courtyard just might be as big as the whole of the city he had grown up in.

Glancing from statue to statue his attention was drawn to a small white shape at the base of one. From this distance it looked little more than a child, but he recognized the puff of whispy white hair immediately. He broke into a fast walk, a jog, and then a full out run. It took him a whole two minutes of running, dodging in and out of the people he passed, blurting out a quick apology to those he nearly tripped or knocked over, before he reached his old friend. Grinning like an idiot and out of breath he hunkered down and prepared to embrace Jake. Then the old man looked up and Duncan was stopped cold by the look in his eyes. At first it was as if he didn't recognize him, and then he smiled and his eyes gleamed with love, and then they seemed to change color and he looked as if he wanted to kill Duncan. He shook his head violently, cupped his hands against his ears, turned his face to the ground and began to mutter to himself. Duncan slowly stood up and backed away. Whatever they had done to him it must have been bad. Any hope he had of Jake helping him was crushed. He was on his own.

Just then a horn sounded, blasting across the courtyard and bringing everyone's attention to a raised plateau of white and black marble and slate. With a flash of light and a plume of smoke the old man with the flowing robes appeared. A gasp and a hush washed over the crowd. The old man grinned and raised his hand, the sleeves of his robe swaying gently in the breeze. He spoke in a clear voice that somehow managed to reach across the entire courtyard.

"Welcome my friends, my brothers and my sisters, to our fair city. I apologize for your incarceration but you must understand that we had to be sure of your motives, absolutely positive of your intentions, before we could trust you to uphold the peace we've built for ourselves here. These are dark times indeed and it will take all of us banding together to hold on to the lives we've become so accustomed to living. One bad apple would spoil the whole of the bunch, as it were. I will not lie to you. A battle lies before us. We must fight to preserve our way of life, what makes us who we are, if we have any hope of saving our children and their children after them. We are in luck, though. I have found a great warrior of legendary skill. He stands amongst you at this very moment, hiding in the shadows of the crowd and yet in plain sight."

The people looked around them, trying to find this hero in their midst. Duncan looked over at Jake, saw him one moment laughing and the next near tears, and wondered what he could do for them. Jake would know what to do. Duncan was little more than a child. Up until he had first heard Jake speak in their training session he had been little more than a confused teen, sneaking bottles of wine and spirits from the local brewery and drinking them in dark alleyways with his friends. He had always seen Jake around the city, he realized that now, but he had never paid any mind to the elderly fellow who wandered the streets with a detatched sense of peace. He hadn't known the old man protected them while they slept, none of them had known, but he had seen him before. They all had, nodding a cordial greeting or sometimes ignoring him completely. The memories of those days brought him back to a simpler time, when the hardest choice he had to make was what games he would play with his baby brother. Suddenly his thoughts came crashing back to the present.

"Duncan, my boy, would you kindly come up here?"

For a moment he couldn't move, he could scarcely breathe, and simply looked around him as the rest of the confused masses seemed to do. The old man's gaze seemed to pierce into his very soul and after what seemed like an eternity he began to shuffle towards the plateau, softly asking pardon as he lightly pushed people aside. Hushed whispers spread through the crowd. Some of them he could hear and others he could not. The ones he could hear mostly questioned his age, wondering who this child was and why he was wasting their time. He could only imagine what the ones he could not hear were saying.

When he reached the old man's side his throat went dry.

"I know what you're thinking. Just remember, that will be exactly what your enemies think. A child could not possibly hope to lead an army, could he? Ahhh, but I assure you there is more than meets the eye in this one. He will surprise you if only you listen. Well, go on my boy. Say something to the people, they've come to hear you after all."

After four attempts to clear his throat Duncan was finally able to speak. He put as much force behind his words as he could muster, hoping the people would be able to hear him. From there the words seemed to flow from him.

"I bid you hello, fellow citizens. You all come from various cities from around the map. Some of your dress I recognize, others I've never seen before. This does not matter. We are now all brothers and sisters. I had a brother, but he is dead now. I hope to someday be able to know you as well as I knew him."

For a moment he was swept up in emotion. It took all of his will to keep from breaking down and crying. He wiped the tears from his eyes and surveyed the crowd. Young, old, man, woman and child all met his gaze. One in particular caught his eye. Of all the stone faces he saw this one looked near in tears. Coupled with the fact that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, he had to force himself to look away from her.

"I won't lie to you. I am no great commander, I am not a born leader. I have only fought in one true battle of which I happened to be on the losing side. But, were it not for that battle I would not be before you here today. I'm not really sure why I told you that, I'm not one for speeches." He chuckled, mostly to himself, "But you've probably already guessed that."

To his relief he heard some laughter from his audience.

"I don't know what we're going to go up against, but rest assured I will do my best to prepare you for whatever foe we may meet in battle. And when we do meet them on the field, I will be right there beside you. Until then, I hope to get to know you all better."

For a moment he stood transfixed, dreading the response of his charges. To his surprise applause rose from the crowd, followed by some cheers and whistling. He smiled and stepped down, shaking hands and accepting pats on the shoulder as he made his way through the people. The old man looked pleased with him.

"Well, there you have it. Your hero has spoken, and such eloquent words at that. Let us not waste any time. Your training shall begin today. I bid you luck, and farewell."

And with that he disappeared in a plume of smoke. Duncan was left alone with his followers and in a moment the student became the teacher. He mingled, joking with them when was appropriate and sharing his knowledge when asked of him. After a day of insanity, all that he could remember was her face. Her beautiful face.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 4
~The Other Side~

"Come on now boss, you can't seriously listen to him!"

"You know I'm right, leader. You must do what you think is right."

"They're weak, just let 'em die!"

"Please, listen to your heart. You can't let them fend for themselves."

"Oh yeah, let them rule your life. That's an excellent plan. You know they deserve to die."

"Honestly, sometimes I don't know why I'm still here. There's no point in even talking to you."

His thoughts had been going along this path for a few days, since his recollection of his past. The two voices in his head fought constantly, giving him no peace during his waking hours and haunting his dreams as he slept. He tried reasoning with them, but to no avail. The one wanted nothing but death and destruction, the other thoroughly convinced that any situation could be righted through peace and love. Neither listened to his input, only pressed their own views harder.

He had tried ignoring them, but without his own ideas they just argued about nothing and everything for ages. The weather was beautiful, no it was horrid. The people were so friendly, no they were disgusting and rude. The air was so fresh, no it made him want to vomit. Eventually he gave in and tried to steer their babble in a productive direction. There could be no progress with the voices, however. There was no reasoning or agreements to be had with them involved. Over and over again they clashed. He considered taking his own life but when they argued about that as well Jake quickly gave it up. He was too tired to keep on with it. Too tired, too old, and too sad to care either way.

The day was beautiful but he found no pleasure in it. The song of the birds made the one's heart swell as it made the other angrier than ever. He wandered through the streets, not caring that he had finally been freed from his cell, only knowing that he had gone from one prison to another. The first of stone and steel, the second of flesh and bone and thought. While the former held some possibility of escape the latter had none, save suicide. He knew that was not an option and so he was made to suffer.

Beggers passed by and asked for coin. He wanted to help ease their pain by both monetary and violent means. Most got by him without incident but he elbowed one in the gut and punched him in the neck as he fell. Little by little Jake felt the wrong overwhelming him. The villagers could not appreciate all that had been provided for them. They didn't deserve being protected. They deserved death.

The gruff voice cackled while the sweet one moaned his disapproval. Jake cursed them both for fools and kept walking, not caring where he was going only hoping to outrun his inner demons.

He came to an inn with a lively sounding pub inside. Stepping through the open door the smell of sawdust and vomit overwhelmed him. Momentarily reeling from the stench he didn't notice a comely serving wench passing by and nearly knocked her over, sending a few glasses of ale crashing to the floor. All talk stopped and every eye turned towards him, glaring as if he had blasphemed one of the local saints. Seeing the type of people here, he thought that perhaps he had.

Putting on his best sheepish grin and reaching for his money pouch, only to realize that it wasn't there, Jake slowly made his way to an open stool. What a fool he was. His money had all been taken when he was imprisoned.

He pretended not to notice the eyes following him, or the angry muttering of the serving wench as she picked up the glass shards and spread new sawdust over the spilled drink. He ordered a round of ale for the entire bar, which lightened the mood nicely, and was relieved when conversations struck up again. How he was going to pay for the round of drinks was another matter entirely.

A man stood up, stumbling and nearly knocking over the stool he had been sitting on, and made his way drunkenly to the privy. Jake quickly drank the ale sitting before him and made his way towards the curtained doorway, stumbling his best to attribute his clumsiness to alcohol.

Parting the curtain he saw the man leaning over a bucket, dark and stained with long use and rare cleaning other than simple emptying. The stench in here was worse than in the main room, if he could have imagined that possible moments before. He made his way over towards the man, undid his cord belt and began urinating in a bucket of his own. Sneaking glances over at the man he noticed a small dagger stuck in the waist of his pants, nestled snugly in the small of his back. The voices which had remained blessedly silent up until this point came back in full force.

"Look at that, boss. Ripe for the taking. You see the size of his purse? Ooh boy, we could live like kings off of that thing for years!"

"Please leader, I beg of you. Don't give in to his foolishness. There are other ways of getting money. We don't need this!"

"Yeah, but it's so much fun! Just grab the knife, stab him a couple times, and we'll be rich beyond our wildest..."

"I heartily object, that's just malicious!"

"Well, that's kind of the whole point."

In an instant Jake had decided. Pulling the knife free he cupped his left hand over the man's mouth before he could even register anything happening. Three quick thrusts to the soft area below the side of his ribs produced muffled yelps which melded into screams and a soft gurgling moan. With one motion the man's throat was slit and with another the purse was free, dangling from its strings from Jake's hand as the lifeless corpse slumped to the ground. With a little dragging the heap was piled in the corner, hidden in shadows where the stench of its rotting would remain undiscovered until it overpowered the already impressive smell of human waste. He wiped his hands clean on the man's shirt, tied the purse to his own belt and returned to the common room.

After paying for the first round of drinks and buying two more for the whole of the room he left the inn in peals of raucous applause. Carrying a large mug of ale he was quite sure he was not supposed to leave the establishment with, he chugged it down quickly and threw it into a corner where a mongrel awoke with a start and sniffed it warily. He stumbled down the street, this time not feigning his drunkenness, and once again the voices were thankfully silent.

An old woman hobbled by, bent and twisted as the gnarled cane which supported her, and she asked if he had a couple coppers to spare. Without thinking he untied the purse from his belt and handed it to her. She frowned at the bulging leather sack with a puzzled look, loosened the strings slowly and let out a startled gasp as she looked inside. The sun reflected rays of gold across her face. Jake never slowed, continuing down the street towards nowhere in particular as he heard her calling from behind him, saying how he was surely a godsend and how he would be blessed by the light and so on and so forth. He didn't think she would be so happy if she knew where the money had come from.

Further down the road Jake passed a half circle stone structure with a large altar at the top. People sang and danced with a fervor he had never seen before. Some looked as if they would dance themselves to death, and Jake saw that some actually had. Bodies lay piled against a wall, stink wafting from them and flies buzzing noisily in the air as they rotted in the sun. Crimson flames billowed from above the altar, coming from no source that Jake could see. To his horror and joy he saw a young man carrying a body up the stairs leading to the altar. Throwing it upon the stone slab it was engulfed in a red flash and disintegrated, the flame billowing a little bit higher afterwards. Fascinated and appalled at the same time, Jake forced himself to turn from the sight and kept walking.

The street led him to a large courtyard, larger than any he had ever seen. With the number of cities he had travelled through in his lifetime this was no small feat. Row after row of statues stood silent watch amidst flowers and plants of every color and shape. Tall trees sprouted at regular intervals, leaves swaying gently in the soft breeze. A few people had begun to gather and more were trickling in every minute. Jake stared across the vast space and imagined it strewn with bodies and engulfed in flame. He closed his eyes and tried to push the thought away, the gruff cackling mingling with a high pitched moan in his mind. He had been so peaceful without the voices he had nearly forgotten about them. Nearly.

They returned in full force, bickering and arguing like an old married couple. Old friends and new acquaintances swarmed around him, looking relieved to be freed from their imprisonment. From the little he could hear over the fighting in his mind Jake gathered they had all been taken from his home city in the attack. He was glad so many of them had survived, partly for their sakes and partially for that of an army he thought to build. No, fighting wouldn't do any . How could they fight anything, who would they fight, was there even anyone to fight? Fighting was the only way. They'd gut every one of the vermin in this place and then use it as their base to spread throughout the land. They'd make them all suffer and then bask in their glory. Suffer? Glory? Nobody deserved to suffer. The only ones who would suffer from such an endeavor would be themselves. To sacrifice one's soul to hate was the worst thing they could do. Being caged and tortured was the worst thing, although pleasurable in its own right.

Jake wasn't sure how much more he could take of this. Every moment that passed was like torture, and he certainly didn't find it pleasurable in any right. He was vaguely aware of somebody hunkered in front of him and thought he looked up to see someone familiar. He didn't remember sitting at the base of the statue but he was there all the same. The person reminded him of Duncan. Ahhh Duncan, the boy who had been like a son to him. The boy he had loved like the son he never had. What right did this imposter have to look like him? Some sewer rat tarnishing his friend's image. Should gut him like a pig here and now. Should teach him to look like that. Should see what his insides look like... No no no. Enough. Leave me be, get out of my head. I won't do it, I tell you. I won't! I can't do it. Yes you can. You can do anything you put your mind to. It's easy, you've done it so many times before. Why change a thing now?

When he looked up the boy was gone. Boy, Jake thought, laughing to himself. The one who looked like Duncan had stubble growing on his face. He was nearly a man grown. Maybe it really had been him. Maybe he wasn't imagining it. Maybe he wasn't completely crazy. Not completely. Not yet. That wasn't a comforting thought, but it was something. There were still a couple of marbles rolling around up in there. Somewhere.

As he sat wrestling with his own thoughts a horn sounded a single long note and his attention was drawn to a central platform with a flash of light and a plume of smoke. Suddenly an old man in flowing robes stood in the clearing smoke. From this distance he looked vaguely familiar. And then he spoke. It was a voice Jake had not heard in a long time, one he hoped to never hear again, and a bitter hatred filled his heart. There was no way he could still be alive, treacherous letch. No way in the void. A name drifted up from the deepest, darkest depths of his memory. A name that tasted like bile in the back of his throat.

Jensen.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.

Chapter 5
~The Winds of Change~

Duncan excused himself from the chaos that was his introduction to the people. Drained and exhausted he wandered the streets. It was a beautiful city. For hours he did little but watch the poor spend their time with one another. For some reason their interactions were what interested him the most. That seemed to be what was really important. Dirty peasants laughing and joking with one another. Even with all of their problems, they didn't have a care in the world. He envied them.

Watching the local children play brought bittersweet memories of his own childhood and of his brother; Their mother calling their names while they ignored her and kept on chasing each other around, playing games with no discernable rules or ways to win. They'd go on for hours before suddenly deciding the game was over and coming back home, out of breath and stomachs growling. After eating a quick meal of bread and soup they'd be out again into the early hours of the morning.

He didn't want to remember the bad times. He didn't want to think about the soups that had been watered down enough times to remove any semblance of flavor. He didn't want to think about their mother crying or them shivering, huddled together during the cold nights when their bellies rumbled and they tried in vain to sleep until the sun's first rays peeked through the windows.

These people had seen all of that, and more. Somehow they managed to smile, to laugh, to love. Above all else he was awed by their ability to cope, to adapt to the harsh changes life had thrown at them and to accept them and move on. These disheveled simpletons with their tattered clothes and muddy faces reminded him of the strength of the human spirit. They reminded him that although he had lost love and felt such deep pain in the past he was still able to love, to find new love and overcome anything that could be thrown at him.

He knew the girl was following him. He had noticed her nearly an hour past, but made no attempts to show his knowledge nor to provoke her into a confrontation. She didn't mean him any harm, of that much he was sure. He didn't know how he knew that, it was just a feeling. He had learned to put more merit in his feelings than he did in his logic. When she felt comfortable she would reveal her presence and her purpose and then, and only then, would he learn who she was. Who she was and what she wanted with him.

...

Elaina followed Duncan from the gathering into the common areas. She kept close enough to follow him but far enough away for him not to notice her. She was fascinated by him. There was something about the way he carried himself, a dichotomy in his posture. He seemed completely at ease and confident in himself and yet somehow uncomfortable and vulnerable. He was like a child in a man's body.

Slinking from shadow to shadow, hiding behind cover when necessary, she trailed him through the streets. She watched as he laughed and joked, smiled and played with the people. She knew she had to betray him. She knew that only through her facade would she save the people of this city, but part of her wanted nothing more than to hold him, to be held by him. She imagined his arms wrapped around her, cradling her head against his chest while those strong arms kept her safe from the world around her.

Returning to the real world she realized she could no longer see him. Cursing herself she leaped from her hiding spot and rounded a corner faster than she should have, running headlong into the one she had been following. She knocked him to the ground and fell back herself, both of them simply staring at each other for a long moment. Duncan smiled, chuckled a little and then lifted himself from the ground, brushing the dirt from his hands on his pant legs before extending his hand to help her up.

"You should really watch where you're going, there's kids around here you know?" he said jokingly, reaching down to pull her to her feet.

"I... I..." she stammered, "I'm sorry..."

Duncan smiled at her, slightly showing his perfect teeth. Gods, everything about him was perfect. He was even more handsome than she had realized. She felt the blood rush to her face and knew she was blushing. Thankfully he mistook this as embarassment. She smiled back and took his hand.

The sensation she felt can only be described as electric dynamite. Her skin tingled, her heart pounded in her chest and the colors of the world stood out brighter than the mid-day sun. In that moment she knew that he was the one. The only one who she would ever love, the only one who would ever love her the same way. The one she was meant to find. Through all the dark and blackness in her life she had found her light. Just being near him, seeing his smiling face, gave her the strength to do anything.

Much quicker than she would have preferred Duncan released her hand and took a step back. She wanted to cry out, take his hand back and press it to her face. She never wanted to be parted from him. She wanted to hold his body to hers, but a look in his eyes stopped her.

"So then, what can I do you for?" he asked casually.

She was so stunned she could barely speak.

"Excuse me? I was just passing and bumped in to... I wasn't... I should go."

"Go? Go where? Are you sure you need to be somewhere else, or do you just want to get away from me now that we've run into one another?"

"I haven't any idea what you're talking about. I really need to get going, my mother..."

Duncan was tired with playing games. He wanted answers.

"Why are you following me?"

Elaina felt the blood rush from her face. She felt faint.

"I wasn't... I don't... I need to sit down"

She slumped down on the ground and felt tears welling in her eyes. In one brief moment Duncan was besides her, holding her shoulders to keep her from falling over. Darkness began seeping in on her vision and she vaguely felt warm tears streaking down her cheeks. She thought she heard someone talking, muffled and far away, but it was getting softer. Soon there was no more talking, no more tears on her cheeks. She let herself go to the stillness and enjoyed the peace.

...

"...funny thing, i'nit?..."

"...never seen her, eh..."

"...third cousin looked like her..."

"...applie pie fresh from the oven if you want..."

"...too early for beer..."

She phased in and out of consciousness for a while and when she finally opened her eyes she sat up with a start. She was in a bed, covered by a quilted blanket, a twisted old man with a singled browned tooth jutting crookedly from his gnarled smile staring at her like a starving dog would stare at a fresh cut of meat. Just when she was about to scream he turned his head away from her and called out.

"Hey there, young fella! Yer lady friend's awake, I reckon. You were right, she wadn't dead. Guess I owe you a couple coppers. Funny thing, i'nit? Looked dead, that's fer dang sure."

Duncan came racing in from the other room, sweat beading down his face. His look turned quickly from worry to relief. The old man stood and walked from the room, head bobbing slightly as he hobbled off. Duncan sat in the chair the old man had been sitting in and quickly took her hand in his own. Elaina wasn't sure if this was a dream, but if it was she hoped she would never wake up.

"I was so worried about you. I thought you were dying or something. Jeez, man... I mean..." he took a deep breath and let out a sigh, a small smile breaking onto his lips. "I thought I'd lost you."

Looking into his eyes she knew in that moment that he loved her. He loved her the same way that she loved him. Finally, after all these years she had found happiness. She had found the person who would make her life complete. She had found her other half.

Elaina sat up in bed, wrapped her arms around Duncan, held him tight and cried tears of joy. She promised herself that she would never let him go, that she would never do anything to harm him. Then she remembered the promise she had made to the terrible old man. She had been desperate, so alone, didn't care, but now she couldn't bring herself to do it. Firmly pushing him from her she looked into his eyes.

"There's something I need to tell you."

...

Their life continued in happiness for the next two years. In public he was a brilliant savant of a leader. For some reason people just wanted to follow him. They hung on his every word, sought to learn as much as they could from him. Elaina spent her time hiding in the shadows, pretending to be studying him, trailing him from just far enough to hear what he was saying when he thought she wasn't around. She had done her fair share of leading men on in her days and found it easy to pretend like she was just throwing herself at Duncan to learn more about his plans. In the night when they were alone they made love. A love sweeter than any other that had ever existed, save one.

Jake spiraled deeper into his insanity. He spent his days fighting the demons in his head and his nights drowning his worries in blissful alcoholic ignorance. He learned to control the dark impulses for the most part but he still fell prey to them from time to time. Over the years he earned a dual reputation. The normal folk began to revere him for his acts of selfless kindness while the denizens of the seedier underbelly of the city feared him for his ruthlessness. By day he would feed and clothe the hungry and homeless and by night he would butcher the very same men, women or children he had clothed and burn their corpses. Pickpockets and the like would come across him in the midst of his night-time debauches but wouldn't dare to try to stop him. Word of his deeds spread fast and far, allowing him a safety in the dark alleys of the slums rarely afforded to anyone.

Duncan read volumes on battle tactics, torture methods, and anything he could get his hands on that related to warfare. He learned to be ruthless and efficient in battle. Make the enemy think you are weak, catch them by surprise and then obliterate them completely before they have time to realize how badly they are outnumbered. Retreating sections of your forces back to lure their troops into a trap and then closing in on them. He hated the idea of using psychological tactics such as launching decaying bodies and putrid waste from catapults but understood the impact it could have on the morale of the enemy soldiers. He knew that even though the idea sickened him to near the point of nausea, some day it just might be a tactic that would mean the difference between the life and death of him and his comrades.

As they studied and practiced he watched and learned. He began to spot the ones who learned the fastest, the ones who could rally people behind them with their enthusiasm. In the back of his mind he began to form a plan. It would probably mean all of their deaths, but if they did nothing to stop Jensen they would all surely die anyway.

There was no great threat. Even before their kidnapping, the city had held the largest army known to the modern world. Their alchemists could conjure fire from innocent looking black pebbles. Their archers were able to pinpoint a small rodent hiding in the bushes from a hundred paces away. They could have attacked any city, even multiple cities, and walked away nearly unharmed. Any city except one. Their home city was the only one that could have posed a threat, and Jensen knew that they were only just beginning to train the people and that they would be easily overtaken. He seemed to know impossible things, things that nobody would be able to know. Things about the inner workings of the city, of the people and their relationships. A person could have spent a hundred lifetimes among the people and not learned so much. He must have had spies everywhere. Duncan would have to be smart if they were going to pull this off.

Below the city ran a system of sewers, flowing with the waste of the people. It was revolting but it was the most glaring weak spot they could find. Nobody bothered to patrol them because gates, thick as a blacksmith's bicep, barred the entrances from without and within. If they could somehow find a way to use the sewers to access the private areas of the city that nobody was able to get to they might be able to discover more about their captors. Night after night they met in the libraries to go over old blueprints, often braving the ancient tunnels and their rancid smell with only a single partner, the light of their torches and the rats and filth for company. More often than not they gained nothing but a wretching belly from these forays, but sometime there was a rare gem of knowledge to be gleamed.

They found a series of tunnels that led deep into the heart of the city. The runoff from the fountains of the palaces ran down through a tunnel which led into the bath houses of the lesser dignitaries. The grates of the bath houses were small, too small for a man to climb through, but large enough for a woman or child to squeeze through. They began sending scouts through the drains in the early hours of the morning, after most of the people had gone to sleep and before the others woke up. The women and children were dressed in the garb of servants. If they encountered anyone during their missions they could hide in the shadows or, if seen, just bow and retreat from the room as was the custom for the slaves. They were rarely caught, and when they were they were always able to get away without raising any suspicion whatsoever.

They planned and scouted for months. A young man named Gerald was in charge of the midnight expeditions. He had been born in a far away land nobody else had ever heard of, crossed the ocean in a boat when he was a mere babe, and had skin darker than anyone had ever seen. He spoke with a thick accent that often caused him to have to repeat his instructions multiple times. Because of this he rarely spoke more than he had to, and liked instead to rely more on gestures and facial expressions to get his message across. The torchlight reflected off his shaven head as he fingered the path through the crude drawings of the sewers. For some reason he used his dagger to shave the hair from his arms as well. Since most of the people were afraid of him, nobody questioned him on his decision. At least not to his face.

A young woman who had been born and raised in the city was in charge of the collecting and allocating of resources, both in the form of weaponry and personnel. Her name was Daniela, Dani for short, and she was the most organized person Duncan had ever known. She took no nonsense from anyone, and for that he respected her more than he let anyone know. Anyone save for Elaina. Duncan and Elaina talked about everything and everyone. There were no secrets between them. They were like one soul, somehow cruelly separated into two bodies. They were both amazed by Dani's ability to scrounge up weapons and armor and salvage things that everyone else thought were completely lost causes. She had a sixth sense about who could or could not be trusted. Every day she found new people to join their cause.

There was a young boy amongst them who had an unheard of knowledge of all things arcane. Though Jorge insisted that the black powder that could wreak havoc so freely was a substance that came from nature, few would doubt its otherwordly origins. Eventually he gave up trying to convince them of what he knew so certainly, accepting that so long as they all agreed what the end result of the powder was it mattered not what brought about those results. He knew the forces that were brought about with varying amounts of the substance. He knew that too much would destroy entire blocks of the city, above and below, and that too little would do little more than to flash brightly and then smoke some. He could use this to their advantage as well. He knew that there would be times when they would need to blind an opponent or simply obscure their view instead of actually killing them. Everyone agreed that the unneeded bloodshed should be avoided if at all possible.

Little by little they formed a plan. They would scavange weapons and hide them in the unused tunnels. Over the course of the years Dani had outfitted and sized weapons and armor to fit every man woman and child able and willing to fight. They all knew where their gear would be found and could be ready to fight within an hour. They would suit up, send the scouts through the bath house grates who would in turn break the locks on the sewer drains. Those were large enough to allow two broad men to pass through, fully armed and armored with enough room to fight off any resistance if need be. Gerald was very pleased that he had found every such entry in the city and was able to locate the ones closest to their objectives. The barracks of the soldiers Jensen planned to use with, and against, them. Through their investigations and eavesdropping they had stumbled upon an unbelievable secret. Because there was no threat, no army that was ready attack the city, Jensen had been building in secret an army of poorly trained soldiers to attack the city itself. The gates of certain areas would be left open, mostly the areas of least interest to the ruler. The slums would be first to go. Drunks and bums served little to the greater and caused more problems than they were worth. Next would be the residential areas. After the slaughter of every innocent they were able to find word would reach the soldiers who would, convinently, be training at the time of the invasion. Jensen hoped that the news of the deaths of their friends and family would send them into a blood rage. He hoped to use this to his advantage.

The plan was that the soldiers would be outfitted in the gear of all of the surrounding cities. It would appear that they had come under an organized attack from every other territory in the region. Their rage at the loss of their loved ones would be so great, so severe, that they would immediately, after finishing off the remainder of the faux forces, push their offensive into the surrounding cities and seek revenge. They would be fueled by bloodlust and murder every man, woman and child in their path. Not only would the armies be caught off guard, cleverly lulled into a false sense of security by treaties offered by Jensen, but every person able to seek vengeance would also be killed. That was the plan, anyway.

As with most plans, however, fate has a way of changing them.

---

We can't cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live our lives in happiness.