Jori stepped off the dam onto the lightly packed dirt expanse in front of the gate. There was no point in trying to sneak around, due to the open bridge, visible to the defenders of the tower. Although, so far, no one had come to challenge his approach.

Jori unsheathed the sword strapped to his back as he heard the massive, double charred-wood doors open. Out stepped a lone daeril, the monstrous human-like beasts the elite sometimes used to guard their estates. The daeril in front of Jori was at least two and a half-meters-tall, with the same soulless eyes and sunken cheeks that all these beasts seemed to possess. Its chest was exposed, save for a lone strap that wound across it to hold his warhammer. The helmet was a normal one, except for the horse's head that was attached to the top.

Jori approached the defender, instantly wishing he hadn't, when he caught the smell of a decaying horse head. Ignoring the putrid smell, Jori assumed the aegis stance, in which most daeril were trained. The beast tore the heavy hammer off its back and let out a guttural battle cry, as it charged towards Jori. As the daeril neared, bringing its massive hammer up to flatten him, Jori stepped to the side and the grotesque beast ran past him and smashed the hammer down, leaving a large crater in the soft earth.

Now behind the monster, Jori quickly made one slash, and turned the raging daeril into a two-part corpse. Turning, satisfied that he had dispatched his foe, he approached the tower once more. He entered the courtyard of the tower, and saw no other daerils.

In the center of the courtyard stood a fountain, with a statue of a knight stabbing a dragon, and water spilling out of the wound. Jori walked to the other side of the fountain, and saw another pair of double black doors. As they opened, he heard another cry from behind him, as a guard rushed towards him. Jori turned and held his sword steady as he used the man's own momentum to shove the blade through the guard's chest. Jori withdrew his blade and turned to the doors.

Two more human guards stepped out of the doorway, followed by four more daerils. Then Jori began to hear a rhythmic thump. Thump. Thump. Thump thump. Finally, an immense armored creature stepped out of the doorway, having to stoop under the eleven-meter clearance.

The first of the human guards was upon him now, and Jori easily dodged a clumsy overhead swing, and dispatched him quickly. The second guard was not quite as clumsy as his comrade, but Jori still beat him easily.

Jori stood ready for the daerils to attack him now, but they had seen the contemptuous ease with which Jori had defeated the first two guards, and they were happy to let their giant friend handle him.

The monstrosity roared and charged at Jori, wildly swinging his giant mace. Jori tried to jump back to avoid the deadly arcs of the enormous mace, but the giant kept charging forward, and knocked Jori to the left wall of the courtyard. Jori tried to stand, but crashing into the stone wall had left his legs a bit unstable. The giant guard approached him now, and brought the mace up for an overhead swing.

"Aww, son of . . .," Jori began, before he just barely rolled out of the way. He turned to the gauntlet on his left arm and flipped open the reinforced panel. He tapped desperately at the keys on his wrist.

He felt the spark of a fire start, and then excruciating pain envelop him. He screamed uncontrollably as the fire spread over his body. One of the daerils Jumped back at the sight of the burning man, yelling "Raidriar" repeatedly. Finally, Jori melted into the warm embrace of death.

. . .

Jori jolted awake and gasped for air, trying to fill his lungs that felt as if they had been without air for years. His old body had been too damaged to return to, so his Q.I.P., Quantum Identity Pattern, or soul, searched for the nearest matching body and found his bud, a soulless copy of his body.

Sitting up on his down covered bed, he slipped to the floor, and walked over to the table that held his garments. He leaned heavily on the table, mulling over the events that had transpired.

The Worker knew of, or was in league with, the warlord. He had openly admitted that he had a weapon to slay the Deathless. But what did he have to gain from telling Jori that? Was Jori supposed to tell the others and spread fear? As he looked around the familiar surroundings of his bed chamber, his brow furrowed. He was mad and confused. He had left his ship back at the tower. And what had the daeril meant when it yelled 'Raidriar.' Without knocking, Garrel came into the room with a slice of everberry pie.

"Great Master, you look perplexed," Garrel observed.

"How long have I been back here this time?" Jori asked.

"Around seven hours, Oh Renewed One," Garrel quipped.

Ignoring his servant's remark, Jori asked, "Have you heard the word 'Raidriar'? It sounds so similar to Raidriark."

"Similar, but I'm not sure of their relationship to each other. In a very ancient language 'Raidriar' means 'one from below', while 'Raidriark' means 'dead walking'," Garrel replied.

"Aren't you quite the archivist. So, you mean like a demon or devil?" inquired Jori.

"Exactly, my God King."

"Raidriar, The God King. I like it," Jori stated.

. . .

The expectancy in the room was almost palpable. The members of the Pantheon had gathered rather quickly to hear of their newly appointed leader's findings.

Jori held up a hand to silence the buzz of curiosity and the low murmurs stopped. Jori waited until he had all the members' attention, and they all leaned in with eager faces.

"According to the Worker himself," Jori paused for dramatic effect, "there is a weapon that can kill each and every one of us permanently."

The voices and conversation erupted again and Jori let it continue for some time. Finally, after several minutes had passed, he continued with the report.

"I have not actually seen this weapon, but I have seen with my own eyes, the warlord. He was in league with Galath, but I don't think that arrangement is still ongoing. Off in the distance, there is a force growing, the warlord had daerils and guards, and a well-fortified stronghold."

Shockingly, the hall was silent as the Pantheon mulled over the information. Ashimar was the first voice his concerns.

"Where is this stronghold?"

Jori frowned. In the heat of the chase, he had not bothered to check the direction he was going, or register any significant landmarks. To his knowledge, he couldn't recover the travel log either, or find the location of the ship remotely.

"Well . . .," the Pantheon looked at him questioningly as to how he could possibly do something so foolish, "Um . . . I don't actually know where it is. I had to fly low manually to avoid detection and never checked where I was going."

The members of the Pantheon gaped at him, trying to discern how this idiot had done something so foolish. Many pinched the bridges of their noses or rested their heads on their hands. Jori sighed. It was always the small details he overlooked, leading to big problems.

"Well, maybe Ashimar could send a small detachment from the Legion to scout out the Worker's stronghold," Jori said, trying to make up for his mistake.

"I suppose, it could work. I'll get them on it soon."

Ausar stared at the beautiful blade. It was dangerous, but it also had a regal feel about it. The three small holes in the center of the blade gave it the look of power and danger. The sword almost glowed with energy; energy that slew the Deathless. Ausar reached for the blade and lifted it. It was light and would be easy to wield in a fight. He stripped the blade on his back and prepared for Galath's fury.

Ausar turned and walked out of the laboratory. He quietly descended the flight of stairs down to the third floor, and prepared himself for the race to come.

After taking a few deep breaths, Ausar ran down the remaining flights of stairs, practically falling, he was descending so fast. As he approached the last set of stairs, Ausar jumped from ten stairs up, and landed with a thud, rolling from shoulder to hip to disperse the impact. He was mere meters away from the floating platform that would take him to the ground floor.

Galath looked up as he heard the clanking of metal grieves on the stone steps, and saw the figure clad in black armor, with gold trim jump the last few stairs.

"AUSAR!!" Galath screamed and gave chase. Ausar raced towards the platform, as the usually dignified Galath raced after him, seething with fury under the frowning mask. Ausar tended to bring out the worst in people.

A millennium seemed to pass as Ausar waited for the platform to start its descent. Finally, the disk began lowering itself to the level below. As Ausar's head dipped below the edge of the upper floor, he saw Galath, still charging, flip open something on his wrist and start pecking at it.

A meter below the ceiling of the first floor, the platform stopped. Ausar cursed and dropped prostrate to the floor.

Galath jumped into the hole, his sword drawn only to meet the hard plasma of the platform. He heard a crash and through the narrow crack saw Ausar lightly limping towards the main doors. Galath quickly restarted the hovering platform's descent. As soon as he could crouch below the ceiling, he dropped to the floor several meters below.

As Ausar was nearly to the to the heavy doors, they began sliding open. Glancing back, he saw Galath pecking at his wrist again. The doors stopped opening and Ausar gauged his chances of making it through the narrow gap.

Galath inwardly frowned as he didn't see any change in Ausar's pace. He was only a few steps away when the traitor jumped.

Ausar dove through the doors, turning sideways to make it through the miniscule gap. The warlord jerked suddenly to a complete stop. Pivoting on his right grieve, he felt his back slam into the ground on the stairs outside of the structure; his left foot stuck between the heavy doors. Trying in vain to pull his boot free, he saw Galath barely four meters away through the small crack in the doors. With one final effort, and preparing himself for the hard impact ahead, he jerked his foot out of the boot.

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