The knights shivered, quivering with fear as the orcnes had displayed. They continued to walk, not pausing, not stopping, as if they knew their business. The giant guards looked down at them, and frigid cold seemed to surround them. They hissed malevolently, a blast of icy air that stank of decay, spitting out at the knights who quailed and hastened their pace. The guards turned to observe their entrance but did not prevent it. They continued through, entering a triangular corridor whose walls and ceiling were pitch black, yet the glassy floor glowed a strange white/green. The sculpture of the corridor was seemingly organic in nature, with bone-like protrusions and design.

Upon entering, the knights were suddenly struck with a feeling of nausea and dizziness. Their stomachs cramped, while their minds reeled. But the event passed, and they reclaimed their thoughts. They disappeared amidst rows of twisted statues that held blazing braziers high above their heads.

Deeper within the structure, standing tall in a secret room where no light penetrated, was a man. The room seemed vast, all sense of size and direction lost in its gloom. The man was nearly hidden by a black cape, yet hands encased in heavy gauntlets furled and unfurled, crackling with displeasure. His breathing was loud and rapid, the sound of a snarling beast. Strange effects played around him. One might think a snake slithered by his metal-booted feet, or that eyes stared out from the darkness of his cape. Was that a ghostly hand that appeared briefly by his side, or a single grasping tentacle that curled and uncurled around his neck? In an instant they were gone, as if they had never been, to be replaced by others. Hatred for all living things seethed from the body of the man, an angry defiance against nature and the established order of life. Yet was he truly a man, for what man possesses branch-like antlers upon the sides of his head? There was no hope in that shadow-filled room, or happiness, or cheerfulness, only a never- ending lust for the dark.

Slowly, grey mists began to swirl at his command. They formed around his feet and rose up about the room. Halos of smoke took substance, floating in great circles before the man, and became faces that peered down at him. His eyes, twin coals of red fire, bore into the giant faces that now surrounded him. His teeth were viciously barbed daggers that clacked loudly. When he spoke, the room itself seemed to pull back with apprehension. His words were like thunder, and the faces trembled before them.

“Tell me again your failure,” he rasped. The image he attended to was a Slth lord, and despite the tangled mess of horn and fang that was its face, the creature winced fearfully at the words.

“My, my lord…our base was made useless, and one of our outposts invaded by one lone human! He, he destroyed everything…”

“I warned you of him.”

“Yes, my lord, but we were unprepared for his power! He succeeded in freeing our slaves, although most were recaptured. Many Slth were brought to their deaths by this human; a Slth overlord was also killed when…”

“You were to capture him and bring him to me.”

“Yes, the Slth lord that died in battle had captured him, as we had promised you! He had been separated from his weapon, as you had commanded, but he…”

“One lone human…”

“My lord, he single-handedly destroyed our slaver base! He was able to traverse the deadly plains of our world, alone! It is unheard of! He penetrated our fortress, and led the slaves in riot with nothing more save the power of his arm and his sword! No Human-Kind has ever done such a deed before, and…”

“One lone human!” the man yelled. The Slth lord grew silent. “For all your vaunted might, you could not stop one lone human in not one instance, but two! He tore through your defenses like a child through paper, and this is the most you can provide me? I brought you opportunity, and you give me words. Words! You bring me words!

Where is he? Where is the sword you were charged to return to me? Show me!”

The Slth face was silent.

The man growled with impatience. He raised his arm and with a grasping motion gestured at the floating Slth face. Suddenly, to its surprise, the Slth face rippled, and the creature was pulled from his place of observance. With a gurgle of shock, the Slth appeared in the air above the man, flailing as it fell hard to the ground. With another gesture, tentacles of stone rose up from the floor itself and secured the Slth tightly in a rocky embrace.

“My lord!” The Slth began to wail until a probing tentacle wrapped around its mouth, cutting off its cries.

“Silence,” the man said in a low, gentle, droning tone. The other faces chuckled at the Slth’s now apparent fate.

The man pointed to one of the faces, looking away into the darkness of the room as if bored with current events. “Report,” he said.

The face, a sunken visage with pointed ears and sharp fangs, smiled broadly. His hair was streaked white and black, and his skin was sickly pale, but his eyes glowed with an inner power. “The surrounding townships have begun to develop some backbone. They actually hired a party of warriors and priests to assail my fortress keep, daring to seek out my sarcophagus.” The face snickered briefly before continuing. “They failed. Only their soulless husks remain to serve me now. My harvesting of the townsfolk continues, as shall your agreed upon share.”

“Good. Your lands and fortress are far from the interests of the Alliance. You shall avoid their notice. Return to your work, vupyre.” The face nodded, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

The man pointed to another face, a bearded man, horribly scarred, with half his face hidden beneath an ornate mask.

“Report,” he intoned.

“I have no problems to report. My castle remains untouched. However, I have experienced…trepidations on the part of my outfitters. There has been renewed effort on the part of the Alliance to track down the supply depots since their discovery of our location in the free lands near their borders. They have made new leads and found others. We have been forced to go silent, even shut down and abandon certain stations altogether. This has caused much delay in new shipments to the slave bases we service. It is becoming a concern.”

“Karash, what did you expect them to do?” another face said, this one a woman, eyes and hair as dark as her evil lord, her face ornamented by curious tattooed symbols and signs. “My slave bases are also remaining low until this surge by the Alliance ends. Three of my twelve have been found out. There is nothing new to any of this. It is the same as before. I have assured the Mezzolankeans of our continued intent to ally with them, which brought much relief. They feared the loss of the Slth base had brought disfavor upon them. Halt your activities, and with enough time, the Alliance will draw back, allowing you to come out from underneath your shell.”

“It is NOT the same, Bakal! The Alliance does not go merely by word and rumor, this time. They have uncovered our actions and invest far more resources and energy in uncovering more than they ever did before. Worse, they are reaching out to other nations and sharing what they have learned. We are becoming exposed!” Karash said.

“Bakal’s words show wisdom. Withdraw your forces and your actions until I give you leave to release them.”

“My lord, we are talking many months that we shall lose, if not years. I lose smuggling profits every day we hide and wait, dismantle and close, with no compensation back to me! To extend delay further will ruin me!”

“Withdraw your activities. You will wait until I say otherwise. Any compensation for you shall be your continued service to me.”

The scarred man looked disturbed, but he dared no further discourse.

The face of Bakal smiled triumphantly at his retreat. “By your command, my lord,” Karash said at last.

“You shall all be rewarded when the great purge comes. Your favored status will not be forgotten and you will take your pick of any treasures you wish when I return to my rightful position. Prove yourselves worthy, and you will be allowed to prosper and live. Fail me…” The Dark One moved towards the imprisoned Slth lord, who trembled and quaked pitifully. He removed his metal glove, revealing a clawed white hand with nails of black. It began to glow eerily. The Dark One extended his hand and placed it upon the forehead of the Slth lord. Instantly, a pale glow overtook the Slth’s body and he shook violently, his screams muffled by the tentacles that held him still. The Dark One arched his neck, sighing as if in ecstasy. The Slth lord shriveled like a dry leaf, his skin drying, his body caving in upon itself. Soon, only withered meat and smoking bones showed any proof of his prior existence.

“…fail me, and you shall join the rest of all Kind as our cattle to feed upon,” the Dark One said.

“Yes, lord Darksiege,” Bakal said, giggling at the death of the Slth lord.

“Of course, master Darksiege!” Karash said nervously, the lesson having struck home.

The faces faded away, leaving the Dark One alone again. The stone tentacles withdrew and were reabsorbed back into the floor. He lifted the skull of the former Slth overlord, smiling deeply.

“Cattle,” he said, laughing wildly.

Days had passed since Qualtan and the others had left to invade the island of the Dark One. Back on the docks, Glaive shared a drink with Visandus in the captain’s cabin. The half-orcne rolled his glass chalice between his hands, focusing on the colored lights reflected therein. There was silence between them until Visandus broke it.

“I do not trust this knight that you call Sir Rutt. He speaks little, and when he does, says nothing of value. He keeps to himself, and seems intent on keeping as far from our troubles as he can.”

“From what I was told, he left the others in battle. Such an act would demand his death but none wished for that. They have kept that little story to themselves, and me, for the most part, to protect him,” Glaive said.

“Doesn’t seem like he has appreciated it. Such an act of cowardice on my ship would have left him hung on the yardarm, and then thrown overboard as food for the sharks. If his actions in any way put Jesepha in further danger, I will take care of him myself!”

“So for now, we sit here and wait for any word to reach us. While Lord Haraush hides in some new hidden cave, safe as can be, we play the role of merchant and ensure we are seen selling and buying trinkets until they come back,” Glaive said.

“That is our task. Be patient, Glaive. If your friend returned from that hellish place of the Slth, I feel better for their chances.” Visandus began to laugh, a long, hearty release of exuberance. Glaive looked at him with sudden confusion over his mirth.

“Is it not ironic, friend Glaive, that a former pirate and enemy of Turinthia, as well as a former thief, be part of all this? Two rogues, waiting on these knights of the realm, like hens for their wayward chicks? My former pirate masters would have called me the greatest fool of all for daring to involve myself thus, risking my life with nary a profit in sight!”

Glaive chuckled in agreement. “I worked for Lord Thule, one of the most powerful of the merchant lords in the Woodworm Ports.”

“Yes, I have heard of him. He runs quite the network, through bribery, extortion, and fear.”

“As his master thief, I led a group of junior thieves against his enemies, his rivals, and even his friends! We stole, smuggled, and pinched anything and everything, until he betrayed us and I fled. I was on the road for some time, living off my wits, until I came across Qualtan, thinking him in the employment of Thule’s! I even tried to steal his sword! If gods do meddle in the affairs of all Kind, then I must be a favorite plaything, for look where they have placed me! If we return alive, I’ll be given a medal, no doubt, and the first thing I will do is to send it back to Thule to stick up his nose!”

“You should come work for me, friend Glaive, when this is all over. Old bandits like you and I should look out for one another! You possess many skills that would be very useful in more…legitimate means.”

Glaive cocked an eyebrow. “Do you now deem to tell me that all of your business is truly above board? All of it?”

Visandus smiled. “I said we are old, not retired.” Glaive laughed as they clinked their glasses together.

Suddenly, the door to the cabin was pushed wide open by one of the Turinthian soldiers that had accompanied the ship. “Captain Visandus, quickly! We are in peril!” Visandus turned to look at Glaive briefly before spilling his drink, rising with haste. Glaive joined him. Outside, his men looked about, mumbling in worry, unsure of what to do. Two Sargossian warships had moved into the port, surrounding their ship and blocking escape. Soldiers held bows and spears, aimed in their direction.

“What is happening?” Rutt said, appearing from below deck. Glaive pushed him aside as Visandus stormed about, giving hope to his men. A sudden sharp cry from a large shell-horn took his immediate attention. A contingent of soldiers, standard bearers carrying the banners of the sea-faring Sargossian Empire, marched to the side of their ship. Curious onlookers throughout the docks milled about, staring at the tableau that was unfolding before them. The soldiers made way for a large blue chariot gilded with gold. A tall, slim man was escorted out. Straightening his royal robes, as well as balancing the glasses on his nose, he walked up to the head of the procession. Snapping his fingers, a royal aide quickly appeared. The servant produced a sealed scroll. He looked over to Lord Rhuun, who nodded happily. Clearing his throat, the servant began to read aloud its contents.

“As your ship has been found to be in violation of the laws and regulations of the Sargossian Empire, and as your actions have been deemed in contrast to said laws of the state, you are forthwith considered visitors of possibly hostile intent, and shall allow yourselves to be peacefully escorted to a place of lawful confinement until such time as the matter has been reviewed and given further attention. Any resistance to said statement shall be considered confirmation of your hostile intent and you shall henceforth be subjected to forceful removal of your possessions, and of your lives, with all due haste.”

Visandus looked at the ships that surrounded him, and the force of men that stood by the docking bay of his ship. He spoke to the sergeant that led the Turinthian contingent.

“What say you?”

The sergeant sighed. “We can fight off any boarding party to this craft, but the ships cut off any retreat. With their forces and those on shore, we are outnumbered.”

“Blast!” Visandus said. “Have they found out about the others? Was Lord Haraush merely a ruse to trick us?”

“No. They would have captured the lot of us earlier if that had been the case. His ploy must have been found out somehow,” Glaive said.

“Or so we hope!”

Lord Rhuun stepped forward. “Captain!” he cried out. “Your answer, please!”

Visandus cursed. “We can do nothing for now. Let us hope we were not better off losing our lives in defense of this ship.” He leaped onto the side of his ship, with a smile and a bow. “My lord! What charges are these that have been unjustly made against me and my crew?”

“They shall be discussed in more detail when you have left your ship. Your next reply will decide whether you leave your ship by your own means or by ours.”

“Then we of course accept your courteous invitation! My ship is yours!” Visandus said. His men lowered ropes, planks, and ladders as the Sargossian soldiers quickly entered and took possession of the ship. Visandus, Glaive, and Rutt were brought out and separated from the rest. Lord Rhuun approached them.

“We are honored, your lordship,” Visandus said, bowing gracefully.

Lord Rhuun merely scowled. “Scheming pirate. It is too late for your lies and deceits.” He drew himself close to Visandus, smiling fiendishly. He poked a long, jeweled finger at his chest. “I know who you are. I know who all of you are. And I have you, all of you. The Dark One will be pleased. Take them away!”

The three were instantly shoved into a waiting prison wagon, metal bars surrounding them, barring escape. Taken past the dividing wall between visiting merchants and the rest of the isle, the wagon, escorted by Lord Rhuun and troops on horseback, thundered toward an armed garrison.

Lord Rhuun observed as their weapons were  removed,  and they were quickly placed into waiting prison cells. “I trust you are comfortable, at least for now,” he said, eyeing them from outside their guarded chamber.

“What is this all about? I demand to know who you are and who has so falsely charged us. We are a merchant ship from the Woodworm Ports…” Visandus began, lifting his shackled hands in protest.

“You are spies of the Turinthian nation and an enemy to our country. I am Lord Rhuun of the ruling clan lords of Sargossia. Did you truly think to catch us unawares? We had been advised of your coming here, although I admit, we expected a different ship. You’ve been quite an annoyance to the Dark One, but you will make quite the feather in my cap when it is I that brings you to him, you and your friends.”

The looks upon Glaive, Rutt, and Visandus made Lord Rhuun smile.

“Oh yes, your Lord Haraush is a traitor and will soon be punished for his crimes. Your friends are falling into my trap as we speak. Three warships await their craft. They will be captured before they ever touch the Dark One’s lands, placed onboard, and returned here. Lord Haraush proved himself a fool by thinking he could keep your intrusion secret! I have known since the start, and merely waited to catch you all. By dividing your forces, you made it quite easy for me, quite easy indeed! I should thank you for it…”

“And do you know that you serve the greatest evil of our times?! You play the role of the toady, thinking it keeps you safe. The Dark One will take you and your fellow Sargossians when he is ready! How can you align yourself thus, and dare to call yourself a Lord of Sargossia?” Visandus said. “We have come here to help you! We…”

“Silence! I will not debate with you, for soon you will be dead! We need no help. You have ever been under his eye since the beginning with no hope of success! You are like children to him!”

“If you mean the spy he had placed among us, he has long since met his fate!” Glaive said.

Lord Rhuun frowned for a moment, shaking his head. “It is of no consequence. He served his purpose. The Dark One had commanded that I keep watch for you, and now, he will be pleased indeed when it is Lord Rhuun who presents him with such a gift!”

“You are a fool if you think the others will be so easily caught! The Mezzolankeans failed to do so, and you think that you shall? Hah! Or did you not know your enemies are also working with your precious Dark One?”

Lord Rhuun shrugged. “Eh? I doubt very much the Dark One would have need of the Mezzolankeans. We shall soon hold sway over them, after all.”

“The Mezzolankeans held a slave base with otherworldly creatures in his name, a base that was destroyed! Think, man! This Dark One of yours plays one against the other! Think you the promises made to the Mezzolankeans were different than those made to you? You are all being used!” Visandus said.

“We are not the Mezzolankeans! We have brought succor and rest to the Dark One and have helped him re-grow his power! We were given that honor! The Mezzolankeans are merely fodder!”

Visandus laughed. “How can you believe that? You attempt so desperately to believe in his lies you would overlook the truth?”

“What truth? Think you I would believe the words of spies? You merely wish to turn me against him, to save yourselves. It is too late for that.” Lord Rhuun began to walk away.

“Listen to us! We can help you against him! We can free you from him!” Visandus said, grabbing the bars of his prison and pressing his face between them.

“As I have said, dear captain, we do not need your help. Save your pleadings for the Dark One when he has taken you. In two days’ time, when my warships return with your friends, I will decide whether all of you shall be given to the Dark One alive…or dead. Enjoy your stay…”

“Damn it! Lord Rhuun!” Visandus yelled to no effect as the clan lord was escorted out of the prison, locking the metal doors that barred freedom behind him.

“The fool! He plays a double game and will pay dearly for it!” Visandus cursed, walking about in anger.

“But what of the others?” Rutt said. “If they have been captured, we are all lost!”

“They will not be captured. They will be safe, you can bet on that!” Glaive said.

“Safe? They enter into the Dark One’s home. How is that safe?” Rutt retorted glumly.

Glaive paused in his response, unsure of what to say.

“Either way, WE are not safe. We need to escape from this place and be ready to assist the others!” Visandus said.

“If Haraush is still well-hidden, perhaps he can aid us!” Rutt said hopefully.

“Don’t be an idiot! We don’t even know where he is, if he is aware of what has happened to us, or where we have been taken to! We can’t rely on him…” Glaive said.

“Then we are at Lord Rhuun’s mercy!” Rutt said with despair. “No. Not really,” Glaive said. “I’ve had my fill of being bullied and pushed about. I’ve learned my lesson.” Twisting his tongue about his mouth, Glaive removed a small metal tool, half the size of a finger, from the folds of his cheeks. He waited until a guard walked past before continuing. Fumbling with his hands, he began to work the tool into the manacles that wrapped tightly around his wrists. After some time, they snapped open.

“Hah!” Glaive said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“A true thief indeed! A small enough tool that they would never have thought to search for in your mouth!” Visandus said, smiling proudly.

“Lucky indeed I didn’t have to hide it in the other place I was thinking of.” Guardedly waiting for sentries to complete their rounds, Glaive eventually freed the others.

“Can you open the door?” Rutt said excitedly.

“I doubt it. The locks on these chains were small enough, but I would need other tools to break open that door. We will have to wait until tomorrow, after things have died down here a bit. When the sun goes down we shall make our move,” Glaive said.

“But we should leave now while we can!” Rutt continued.  “Glaive makes sense. Lord Rhuun himself told us we have time—at least until his ships supposedly return with the others. We must be patient and wait. One day more shall not hurt us,” Visandus said, attempting to get comfortable.

The night passed quickly. They were awoken by a bang of metal hands against their prison door, as a plate of food was thrust through a narrow opening. As the hours dragged on, they were left mostly alone, except for the occasional guard that would inspect their state at odd intervals.

“I believe our hosts have lost their novelty. We will move tonight!” Glaive said, eyeing the meal.

“But if you cannot open the door, how can we flee this place?” Rutt said.

“By using the skills of an old pirate and an old thief,” Glaive said, winking at Visandus.

When the sentry returned late in the day, they were ready. The guard had brought a plate of food for their use. Reaching the door to their cell, he ordered them to stand back.

“It’s about time. I will be complaining about your lack of service,” Glaive said. “Don’t you idiots know how to treat your guests?”

The guard smiled. He paused before placing the plate through the door grate. “Idiots, is it?” Continuing to smile, the guard instead twisted the plate to one side, sticking it between the bars of the door. The food spilled to the floor.

“Ah, well,” Glaive said. With sudden movement, he dived forward, latching the guard’s wrist to the manacles he had worn. He pulled the guard’s arm into the door, twisting it around, forcing his back against the prison bars. Before the guard could cry out, another chain was thrust around his neck. Visandus and Glaive held the manacles tightly as the guard struggled.

“Ah-ah! Try for your sword and we snap your wrist as well as your neck! Just be silent and you shall live! Rutt! Quickly!” Glaive said.

The knight fumbled about the guard’s body, finding a key chain attached to his leather belt. He tore it free and quickly opened their door.

“What of him?” Rutt said.

Visandus removed the guard’s sword, hefting it in his hands. The guard looked at it fearfully, his eyes bulging. With one stroke, Visandus struck the guard’s forehead with the base of the sword, striking his head against the bars of the prison door. He gasped and slouched, the blow having knocked him unconscious. The three crept up to the outer metal door that beckoned freedom. Carefully, a key from the guard was worked in, and the door was slowly opened. There were no additional guards. The three escapees inched forward, keeping to the shadows. Finding a row of closets, they unlocked them and secured their belongings. As they did, another guard entered the room. As Glaive and Visandus whirled about in surprise, Rutt struck the guard from behind with the flat side of his blade. He fell instantly. Rutt smiled back at his companions with triumph.

“About time he did something,” Glaive whispered.

Exiting from a long, brick corridor, they came to yet another gated door. Unlocking it, they found themselves in a courtyard within the garrison to which they’d been brought. The sun was already beginning to set. Wagons and horses lay about, as did additional guards that were involved in various duties. Locking his wrist gauntlet in place, Glaive took a deep breath. “Here we go!” he said.

Visandus, wearing the garb of one of the fallen soldiers, calmly escorted Glaive and Rutt out of the tunnel. They kept their manacles upon them, falsely secured. He walked them to one of the prisoner wagons, and began to put them inside. Immediately, one of the guards, a sergeant, took notice and approached them.

“Hey! What do you think you are doing?” he said, bringing the attention of other guards.

“Following orders, friend. Lord Rhuun wants these two taken away for the Dark One’s personal use,” Visandus said, half covering his face.

“Eh? Lord Rhuun said nothing of that to me! They were brought here to be kept safe! He made no mention of taking them somewhere else?!” the guard said as Visandus continued to shove Glaive and Rutt into the wagon, securing the door.

“Lord Rhuun saw no need to mention this to anyone else. Speak to him about it,” Visandus said, walking past the guard to take his place atop the coach as if nothing was amiss.

“Wait! Where do you take them? And what about the other one? There were three of them…”

Visandus shrugged. “I only follow orders! I take these two to a secret place. I cannot tell you.”

“Halt!” the guard said. A handful of other guards had moved in closer, curious over the situation.

“We waste time!” Visandus said. “And I will need an escort. You and another. Quickly now.”

“Just a minute! This is most unusual here! You are not in charge…”

“Lord Rhuun is!”

“You don’t look familiar to me….” The guard moved closer to better view Visandus, but jumped back as the disguised sea captain slammed his fist against the side of the wagon in mock anger.

“Lord Rhuun sent me here to deliver these two—now pick two men to join us, or I will let Rhuun know of your disobedience. You know what that will mean…”

The sergeant raised his hands in defeat. “All right, all right! Enough of this madness. Fraunk! Jon! Come with me!”

Visandus smiled inwardly. The sergeant commanded the gates to be raised. Leaping atop their horses, Fraunk and Jon led the wagon out. Visandus waved to the guards manning the gate as they left. For some time they traveled, as Visandus was unsure of his direction. Finding a dark spot on the road, Visandus urged his horses to stop. He jumped down, pretending to look about in search of someone.

“Why do we stop?!” one of the guards said, jumping off his own horse.

“We wait here for our contact, per Lord Rhuun,” Visandus said. “See if you can find a torchlight—that’s our signal.”

“I hate all this business of sneaking about!” grumbled Fraunk. The other soldier joined him. As they went into the foliage, Visandus unlocked the prison wagon door, freeing Glaive and Rutt. The two guards, having had enough of digging through walls of weeds, returned back to the wagon.

“I see nothing! What sort of fool plan…” The guards stopped upon seeing the wagon now empty. From opposite sides appeared Glaive and Rutt, weapons in hand.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen. This is not your day,” Visandus said. Confused, the guards could do little as their weapons were removed and they were placed inside the prison wagon, mouths gagged, locked in tight.

“Our thanks for your horses! I’m sure Lord Rhuun will be pleased with your assistance!” Visandus said as they fled into the night.