Jori walked down the ramp towards the barren wastelands around the Worker's stronghold. He stepped onto the dusty ground that was littered with a few brittle shrubs, that could, remarkably, survive this dry climate.

The land was rocky as well, with large boulder-strewn hills dotting the horizon. But the landscape was dwarfed by the massive tower the Worker had erected in this desolate waste. The structure, made of a Helio-iron alloy, loomed threateningly over the lands, with its beige color offset by the glowing sky blue circuit-like insignia in the center of the tower.

The Worker had made the tower well before the Fall of the Planet. Very few survived the collapse, and so the Worker, with his knack for names, dubbed it The Ark.

Jori approached the towering structure and ascended the large steps up to the door. He raised his hand to pound on the slab of Helio-iron, but the door began to open before Jori had a chance to knock.

Peering into the first floor of the tower, Jori saw the dark stone that lined the wall, and the reflection of it in the heavily polished black granite. The walls started slanting inward a meter below the high ceiling. Glowing columns illuminated the small level on which Jori stood, and strange artifacts lined the walls of the level.

On the opposite wall, was the same insignia he had seen on the outside of the building. Scanning the room, Jori couldn't see any stairs or any other way to climb to the next floor.

As Jori approached the center of the room, a low humming sound started. Jori looked up to where the sound emanated and saw a five-meter disk descending from the ceiling.

The humming sound cut off abruptly as the disk came to a halt on the floor in front of Jori. He raised an eyebrow in confusion when he saw the clear, glowing blue center of the disk.

Cautiously, he stepped aboard, glancing up, attempting to judge whether he would be crushed against the ceiling once the disk had risen to the upper floors. Slowly, the platform ascended.

As Jori's eyes rose above the floor of the second level, he saw the Worker, sitting on a throne that was several steps higher than the floor. The Worker's fingers pecked at several holographic screens displayed in front of his face. Like some of the Deathless, the Worker preferred to always wear his armor in the presence of commoners and servants.

The Worker looked up as he heard Jori approaching. The faceplate that covered his face was shaped like a human face, with the lower lip and chin missing, making the faceplate frown.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit from a member of the Pantheon?" the Worker asked, in his deep, metallic, voice.

"We need to talk, Galath," said Jori with a little more hostility than he intended.

Galath faintly smiled behind his frowning mask, "I believe we are talking."

Jori approached the throne, and the Worker held up a hand to stop him. After he tapped a few buttons on the virtual screen, a section of the floor in front of Jori split, and a large, rectangular stone table rose from below. Jori pulled out a carved stone chair and sat facing the Worker.

"There have been rumors," Jori began. He glanced at Galath and became slightly irked when he realized that he did not have Galath's undivided attention. The Worker's fingers still tapped away at the holographic screens.

After this short pause, the Worker looked directly at him and cocked his head to one side, "Rumors of . . . ?" he prompted.

"Rumors of a sword, a sword that can kill the Deathless."

The Worker chuckled softly, "You are aware of what the word 'Deathless' means, correct?"

Jori ignored the remark and continued, "The rumors also say that you made the sword."

"I am the father of the Deathless, creator and destroyer of all, and you think, that I cannot destroy you as I please? You are all throats that I caress or squeeze at my leisure. It would make no difference if I had a weapon or not."

"You seem defensive," Jori replied.

"I am not defensive, I am merely stating a fact. If you are so worried about this weapon, I shall put your fears to rest."

"So, there is no weapon?" Jori asked hopefully.

"No. There is a sword, and it can destroy the Deathless," the Worker responded flatly, still not giving Jori his full attention.

Brows drawn together, Jori mulled over the rather disturbing confession. He didn't actually know what to do if the Worker had the sword.

"Anything else?" Galath asked.

Changing the subject, Jori asked, "Have you heard the news of the vile warlord attacking Deathless territory?"
"Aren't you all at each other's throats?"

"Well . . ." Jori frowned, trying to figure out what to say next, "no this one is different. He is not known to be Deathless."

"I do not know anything about this warmonger of which you speak. Now if your trivial questions are at an end, I have the mysteries of the universe to unravel. You are welcome to stay the night, however."

Jori stood abruptly, miffed at the Worker's dismissive manner. As he walked out of the room, he could hear the Worker talking to himself.

"Like a child who is denied dessert," he said.

After dinner, Jori sat on the edge of his bed. Galath had, rather bluntly, admitted he had the weapon to snuff out the Deathless. But, on the other hand, his manner seemed . . . off. He seemed to be on the defensive about the warlord.

Sitting quietly for some time, Jori slowly grew accustomed to the noises of the tower, the humming of electricity, heavy footsteps of metal boots. Wait - that was not normal. Sliding off the bed, Jori silently made his way to door. Putting his ear to the door, he could hear the footfalls fading down the hall. Jori reached for the handle, slowly turning it, so as not to alert the mysterious passer-by. Silently, he opened the well-oiled, wooden door. He slowly eased himself into the hallway, his soft soled boots not making a sound.

Sliding along the wall, dead silent, like a snake stalking his pray, Jori neared the Worker's throne room. He poked his head around the corner and saw that the coast was clear. As he drew nearer to the main room, he could barely make out the voices of people arguing. The voices grew louder as he was almost to the room. Stopping just around the corner, he could make out the what voices were saying.

"You will get your part of the deal soon. Be patient," came the gravely electronic voice of the Worker.

"Do not play your games with me, Galath!" spat the other deep male voice.

Jori heard the clink of metal armor as the Worker slowly stood. In an even more deadly, quiet voice, Galath spoke.

"I am divinity, the beginning and end of all, I am the father of the Deathless," his voice steadily growing louder, "I will not tolerate hubris by a maggot such as you!"

Jori finally dared to look around the corner. He saw the Worker standing atop his dais and an armored man wearing a large tattered brown cloak. The cloak seemed oddly familiar.

"This is not over," hissed the cloaked figure.

The man stepped on the platform, as it slowly began to descend, glaring at the Worker.

Jori sprinted back to his room. Grabbing his pack and all his belongings, he dashed back to the throne room. He slowed to an urgent walk, and entered Galath's line of vision.

"Off so soon?" inquired the Worker, tilting his head in a questioning manner, as Jori walked by.

"Urgent business with the Pantheon," Jori smoothly lied, while darting to the platform.

"Business at this hour of the night?" asked the Worker.

"I could ask the same of you, Worker of Secrets," retorted Jori.

The Worker stiffened, obviously agitated by Jori's comment. As the platform descended, Jori felt the heat of the Worker's gaze upon him.

Jori raced out of the tower to see what he assumed to be the warlord's ship speeding away in the distance. As he ran towards his ship, he realized that he would have to control the ship manually in order to stay low enough over the rocky terrain to avoid the other ship's radar.

Sprinting up the ramp, he started up the ship, then deposited his pack hastily on the floor. He quickly sat down and made sure that everything was in order. The ship couldn't take off fast enough for Jori, and he unconsciously tapped his foot rapidly. He turned the ship to the direction he saw the other craft heading.

Jori stayed as low as he could, while still avoiding the jagged rock formations. Scanning the skies and searching for any trail of exhaust to no avail, Jori began to think he had lost the warlord. The sunless sky and low clouds obstructed his vision, then he caught a glimpse of the ship.

After two and a half hours of traveling, Jori set his ship down a hundred meters away from the spot where the cloaked man had landed. Jori hastily grabbed his sword and ran out of the craft. He ran up the small hill he landed behind and peered over the top as he lay on the ground.

In front of him lay a two-hundred-meter ravine with a stone dam spanning the gap. No water flowed down the river anymore, but the dam was in relatively good condition. The mountaintop Jori was on, and the one across the ravine, had been flattened over time.

The stronghold rose from the stone on the far side of the ravine, reaching high into the sky. The tower was decagonal in shape and at the top, cages jutted out from each corner of the immense structure. The smooth stone bricks of the dam matched those of the tower.

Seeing no movement across the dam, Jori went in for a closer look.