Andral raised his spear and pointed it toward the mountain fortress of Har-Tor. The spear's bronze head was as long as an angorym's long knife, its shaft as thick as a man's upper arm, yet it rested comfortably in his palm. "Attack!"

Overhead the shrieking draeken decimated his scattering horde of gob-bocari, but the pig-mouths were only ever intended to be a diversion. Fearing the gobos had been unable to open the gates, he impatiently waved his angorym with their tree-log ram to the front line.

His vast soreav of men rushed forward. Those prisoners who had not been needed for the ramp had either been conscripted into the spear force or fed to the drwg. Andral had been reluctant to use the latter solution only because he wanted those giant dire wolves hungry for the battle.

Like the gob-bocari, most of his men would prove as little more than a distraction until his angorym had breached the doors. Once through, they had only to keep the reavers of Har-Tor busy until he could track down the one man he had left to kill.

With a last grin to Pronos, who still hung twitching on his own spear—though Pronos couldn't appreciate the gesture for his eyes had rolled up in his head—Andral placed his foot upon the ice ramp.

And it exploded.

The bedrock leaped up under his feet. Shards of ice and frozen bodies exploded into the air. A wave of flying debris swept down from the top of a new ramp as if the stone beneath were nothing more than a picnic blanket that someone had snapped up and down to clear off a gathering of leaves. 

The ice crashed down on Andral, burying him to his shoulders. If he hadn't raised his arms to shield his head, he would have been unable to drag himself out onto its surface. Andral pushed himself up onto his knees and looked around. 

The unnatural avalanche had buried half his soreav, the remainder lay scattered and stunned. A few steps away, a drwg thrashed free and clambered to its feet whimpering, head and tail hanging low.

Andral squinted into the light shining from the battlement. It reflected off a new stone ramp who's surface was as smooth as the edge of a spearhead. At the top of the ramp, a familiar figure stood waiting.

Andral shouted. "How are you here? I watched you die!"

Garanth smiled. "Fortunately, there is still much life left in the land which it has generously shared with me."

"So you have claimed the seat of power. Are you human any longer?"

Garanth shrugged. "I am what I am." Garanth limped toward Andral, his wounded leg still appearing to trouble him. His scabbarded sword banged against his hip with each swaying step.

"I see you are not fully healed." Andral bent and wrenched his spear from the ice.

Garanth spread his arms, a wistful smile on his face. "Come, brother. Let's end this pointless conflict. None of these people have harmed you. Even the rage you feel is not your own, but poured into you by the n'kroi. Let it go and they will no longer have mastery over you."

Mastery! He had freed himself from all of that. Andral ground his teeth and readied his spear. "All of life is pointless, my half-brother. We may as well spend it on what pleasures we can find." He lunged forward as Garanth came within range.

Garanth whipped his sword up from out of its scabbard and the head fell off of Andral's spear. Andral flung the shaft down and lunged forward, hand reaching for Garanth's throat.

"I'm sorry." Garanth leaped up and twisted around, his bright sword whipping past under Andral's chin.

The world spun around. Andral caught a brief glimpse of draeken circling overhead then the frozen stone smashed him in the face. He rolled downhill, crashing to a stop against a large chunk of ice. With his left cheek pressed to the ground, he watched from the corner of his eye, as blood geysered from his headless corpse. It collapsed to its knees and fell over.

Cheers broke out from atop Har-Tor's walls. The gates were flung open and reavers burst out with a joyful roar. His own forces, those who were still alive, squealed in fear and fled. The angorym's thudding footsteps faded northwards as they raced back to their mountain homes.

Garanth limped toward him. The Har-Toran reavers caught up to him and slapped him on the back, cheering. Garanth acknowledged their cheers with a smile then bent to pick up Andral's head by the hair.

Andral couldn't speak. He could only blink at their expressions of wonder and horror.

One of the men slapping Garanth's back froze with his hand still in the air. "Is that thing still alive?

Garanth turned Andral's face toward him. "He can never die."

You should destroy it."

Garanth shuddered. "No. Even if it were possible, my brother and I have much to discuss."

<====|==|====>

Karux stood on the overlook next to Eiraena and watched the events below with growing concern. He had sensed Garanth's approach through the very rock itself and felt the stone respond to Garanth's mere thought as it leaped up into a ramp shape. Then Garanth had simply materialized, growing up through the stone from which he had borrowed his solidity.

"He has become a creature of pure karis," Karux thought, "a mere pattern of shapes only temporarily in the form of a man." When Garanth whirled about and cut off Andral's head, the weapon he had wielded had been more than a simple blade of adamant. He had thrown the combined forces of the n'phesh at his foe, severing Andral's connection to the Void at the same moment he severed his head.

The reverberating snap, as the hole in reality swallowed itself, sent a shiver down Karux's spine and even made the glowing Eiraena flinch.

Karux's scowl deepened as Garanth limped back up the ramp with Andral's head. The n'phesh had a hold of him now. Garanth was already changing.

A small draek, not much bigger than a chicken, fluttered low overhead, its scales flashing a rainbow of colors in the light of dawn. It landed on Eiraena's shoulder and curled languidly around her neck, folding wings of flexible membranes that were clear as dragonfly wings. Eiraena had ceased glowing. She was entirely normal, except for the warm pleased smile with which she looked up at Karux. The unexpected emotional connection frightened him more than anything else he'd seen that day. It was an omen of even greater changes to come, changes he feared he'd be powerless to resist.

"I must speak with him," Karux muttered, suddenly wanting to get away.

Eiraena stroked the draek's scaly head, her smile broadening knowingly.

Karux hurried downstairs and forced his way through the throng around Garanth. "I need to talk to you, privately." He grabbed Garanth's shirt and yanked him aside into another room while Garanth laughed and offered apologies to the crowd. "Now, show me your wound."

"What?"

"You were wounded weren't you?"

Garanth nodded.

"And you joined with the n'phesh."

Garanth nodded again.

"I need to see what they did to you. Show me your wound."

Garanth blushed. "This is a little embarrassing." He lifted up his tunic and pulled down his trousers and exposed a jagged white scar near the top of his inner thigh. Karux touched it. It was hard as stone.

Not as stone, Karux thought. It is stone. He glared up at Garanth who hastily pulled up his trousers. "It's petrifying."

"What?"

"It's turning to stone, and its spreading. It will eventually consume your entire body."

Garanth swallowed nervously. "How long?"

Hurried footsteps rounded the corner. Corha burst into the room, her eyes shining with joy.

"A few years yet," Karux said.

"Garanth!" She flew to him weeping with joy and Garanth caught her up in his arms.

"If you had any thought for children though, you better not delay."

Garanth turned a goofy smile on Corha who looked both puzzled and pleased.

<====|==|====>

The founding of the first kingdom

Once the madness of the humans had ended, the dwerka returned, renewing their trade relations with much relief on all sides. When the angorym reappeared in their mountain homes, Karux deferred to Garanth who released any reavers who wished to go help defend the dwerka. Aside from the tribe of the Vodashin, who had lived long in the mountains of the north-east and knew the dwerka well, not many men were willing to continue taking up the spear now that peace had finally come. The dwerka were forced to hand out numerous small silver and golden discs--the dwerkan version of kerma--which could be redeemed for dwerka-forged tools or other dwerka labor. Because of this, the labors of many generations of the Har-Toran people, and indeed the entire tribe of the Pelahin, were eased by the finest dwerkan plows and pruning hooks.

As soon as winter eased its grip on the narrow path which served as the road between Har-Tor and Nur, the survivors of that city returned to rebuild. Many people of Har-Tor, tired of living inside the mountain went with them to help. The bonds between the two people, once enemies, had grown strong and so Karux used his arts to widen, level and straighten the road between them to facilitate the trade and increased traffic.

That spring thousands of people flocked to Nur for the festival of the Greening as spring gave way to verd. It was also the day Garanth and Corha had chosen to marry.

Karux leaned on his staff as he walked along the streets of Nur with Macander and Theris at his side. For more than twenty years he had been caught in the currents of the future, paddling furiously for the safety of the shore while the roaring falls of disaster grew ever louder in his ears. Now, in the quiet still waters of this new present, he had no idea what was coming next and that unnerved him almost as much as his nightmarish visions once had.

"Are you going back to Har-Tor after the wedding?" Macander asked.

"Yes." Karux turned to Theris. "And what of the brothers Theris and Macander?"

Macander punched his brother in the shoulder playfully. "Yeah, what?" 

Theris had been campaigning for days for Macander to join him in the forests of the faeyn. He shrugged his brother off. "We're going to stay on in Nur for a bit and help Garanth get things settled here."

"Both of you?"

"Toeksa has a curious fascination for you smelly humans," Theris said.

"Not her words, I hope." Macander smiled.

"Not exactly," Theris admitted.

Garanth had been busy meeting with his arcanths to decide how to dissolve their tireaves and how many spears might still be needed to deal with the angorym, gob-bocarri and other threats. He'd also been meeting with the elders of Nur, Har-Tor and many of the surrounding koria. Karux had been glad to let Garanth take over those political obligations he had so resented, but now he felt strangely disconnected and unaware of what was going on around him. "So he's determined to stay as well," Karux said.

"Yes." Macander gave Karux a curious look. "He said you admitted to him that leaving Nur after the first conflict had been a mistake. He wants to stay and see that things are set right."

Karux nodded. "The curse has been lifted. I'm sure Nur will prosper again, especially with Garanth here." The elementals were thick about the place. Verd had come much earlier than customary. Many newly planted fields were already showing green.

The three parted at the market square, near the hill  where Charissa was buried. Karux continued on to a tavern where Garanth celebrated his pending nuptials.

After the respective fathers negotiated the marriage agreement, it was the custom for each family to celebrate in their own houses before the wedding. Afterward, the groom and his father—often accompanied by the groom's rowdy friends—would go to collect the bride where the vows would be exchanged. Then alone,  the couple would leave and consummate their marriage in the groom's new-built house where all their friends and family would return the next day bearing gifts. The party might last a week or more.

Karux had been forced into the awkward role of Garanth's father, though the negotiations mostly consisted of Corha's father thanking him repeatedly for allowing her to marry Garanth. Since Corha's family had traveled several miles, the vows were to be held at Charissa's graveside instead of their home. Corha had thought it good to include Garanth's mother—after a fashion.

The tavern fell quiet as Karux entered, but only long enough for everyone to fill their lungs and belt out an ear-splitting cheer. By his appearance, they knew the time for the vows had come. Though not allowed by custom to officially accompany the groom, they gave him a twenty pace head-start and followed behind singing mocking songs of marital misery and woe in joyful off-key abandon.

Karux and Garanth both limped along in silence, leaning on their staves, each dragging bad legs on opposite sides. Karux felt he should say something, but no words would come. He noted they had fallen into the same step–drag–step rhythm and chuckled. "We are quite the pair, aren't we?"

Garanth followed his gaze to their feet, where  at the same moment, they each planted their staves. He laughed. "We are that."

Karux glanced at Garanth's staff. It was especially thick and covered in strange carvings. "Is that Andral's spear?"

"It is."

"I heard you and Corha had your first argument."

"I think it only right for a brother—even a half-brother—to be present at his brother's wedding."

"I take it Corha didn't feel the same?"

"Not in this case."

Karux chuckled. "One would think that a woman getting married on her mother-in-law's grave wouldn't balk at having her brother-in-law's head present."

Garanth grimaced. "I guess they're not the same thing."

Karux's eyes drifting back to Garanth's staff. "What are those carvings?"

"The shapes you taught us." Garanth paused and held out the pole for Karux to examine. "If you say the first sound of each symbol, they form words."

"Honesty, integrity, faith, generosity..." Karux read.

Garanth turned the spear so he could read the rest.

"Very clever."

"Andral gave me the idea of using the symbols to make sounds. They had done something similar to communicate with the elementals in Mari."

Karux frowned. He could understand Garanth's desire to make peace with the past and to redeem the only family he had, but he worried about Andral's influence.

"They are the principles by which I hope to live and teach the people of Nur so that the past mistakes are not repeated."

Karux nodded. They continued walking. "That is a powerful schema. I hope you are successful."

The celebration at the tavern which Corha's family had occupied was less raucous. There were more women and more tears there, but they seemed to be tears of joy. Having decided to celebrate with Corha's family, Eiraena—with a draek coiled around her neck—took Karux by the arm. They led the crowd from the tavern and up the steep grassy hillside where the vows were to be exchanged. Both Garanth and Karux struggled with the climb, but in Karux's case, it was more than just the difficulty of the slope.

Standing together under the massive iron-wood tree that Karux had planted to seal Charissa's tomb, Garanth and Corha pledged their love and faith to each other, calling on E'yom, the creator, to witness and bless their union.

After the vows, their families and friends—many having traveled some distance—broke tradition and gave the pair their gifts early. A stool was found and Garanth sat, resting his leg while he received them.

The arcanths who had fought alongside Garanth were, unsurprisingly, in the front. They knelt and laid their spears at his feet.

"Our elders all agree," Anankaes said, "that the alliance which served us so well during our time of strife may yet serve us better in peace."

"We offer you our spears, should you need them." Tekmos said.

Macander, kneeling beside the arcanths, smiled up at him. "And our hearts if you don't." Theris knelt next to Macander with a solemn expression. The faeyn hunters beside him, being more in the spirit of the event, grinned back.

"Thank you, my friends." Garanth's eyes glistened.

Karux watched him peer at each face with gratitude, though he seemed to linger with a regretful look at the space where Z'taes should have been.

A dwerka handed Karux their gift and Karux cleared his throat. "It is the custom among the dwerka for each master craftsman to wear a badge which designates their profession and rank within their order. Because of their strenuous labor, they often wear these badges on bands around their heads."

Karux lifted a metal hat, whose graceful upswept curves suggested the sacred mountain itself, and walked around behind Garanth. "This circlet and crest represent your position as the archon of the people, the one who watches over and protects them on behalf of the High Lord himself." Karux placed it on the crown of Garanth's head.

Everyone applauded and cheered and the surrounding ranks of reavers roared.

"Thanks, Adra," Garanth said from the corner of his mouth.

Karux put a hand on his shoulder. "You're welcome...son."

With Eiraena's help, Karux made it back down the hill while the rest of the city of Nur offered their blessings and well-wishes. The two stood silently, hand in hand, just beyond the base of the hill watching.

"I think I would like for you to give me a baby," Eiraena said. "I'd like to try motherhood from the other side."

"What!" Karux shouted. "Why are you asking me?"

"Who else would I ask?"

Karux gaped at her. He tried to remember the six-year-old girl playing naked in the dirt, screaming at anyone who bothered her, but he couldn't. She had changed too much.

"Don't worry. You don't have to do it right now." She patted his arm with her free hand and hugged it. "You'll have plenty of time to prepare yourself—we'll be watching over these people for centuries."