Three years before the founding of the first kingdom

Garanth spent all spring and summer recruiting and training reavers. He wandered throughout the villages of both the north and the south, establishing training camps and teaching men the use of the three spears and, for a select few the use of the sword weapon. They didn't have anywhere near the number of swords he wanted, but when they stopped sending men to the dwerka, the dwerka stopped sending swords back. Instead of going north to fight angorym, they sent their recruits south to complete their training fighting gob-bocari in honor of their agreements with the villages of the south.

Their two largest training camps were set up north of the cursed lands on either side of the river Pardos at Kerwyn's Hill and Korion Iscuron. Karux was convinced that Nur's attack would come through one or the other of those two villages and so he wanted the bulk of his spears there.

Garanth found every excuse he could to go back to Har-Tor, to see Corha. He would go on supply runs, or to beg for more men and money from the elders or to consult with Karux on the planning for the coming fight with Nur. Regardless of the reason, he always found an opportunity to be alone with Corha.

They ended up in the lower levels of Har-Tor, strolling along the edge of a great underground reservoir, Garanth lighting the way with the phosite gem she had given him. When they kissed, Corha was as enthusiastic as ever, yet she seemed at times a little distracted.

"Is something wrong?" Garanth asked when she paused to stare off over the water.

"No. I was just thinking about the new apprentices."

"Problems?"

"Just the opposite. They're progressing very quickly. They may soon catch up to Netac, Harkin and myself."

"That sounds like a good thing."

"It is, except that it means the rest of us have stopped progressing."

"Ah."

Corha took his hand and continued walking. "We're still learning new tricks, new schemas, and we're getting better at manipulating karis. But we are none of us any closer to lifting the curse than when we couldn't even see the schemas." She paused and leaned against a rock coping along the edge of the water. "We can see it though, the wound. That's what the curse looks like, a great ragged hole sucking up the ground under our feet. We've learned to see it quite well. We just don't have any way to stop it."

Garanth brushed back her hair. "I'm certain you'll find a way. Someday in the future, we'll look back on this time whenever we want to count our blessings and say at least we survived that."

Corha smiled. "I hope we have such a future." She pulled him to her and kissed him.

"What are you doing to my student, reaver?"

Garanth lurched back with a loud smack. Karux, Eiraena leading him by the hand, descended the final steps into the cavern. "I wondered where you two had hidden yourselves. Fortunately, even when I'm distracted, Eiraena's attention never wavers from all of you."

Garanth smothered the phosite gem he held between him and Corha and shivered at the thought of Eiraena watching him all the time. "What do you want?"

"Have you forgotten the call for the arcanths to gather?"

"No."

"Then come with me, if you can tear yourself away."

Still holding Corha's hand, Garanth followed Karux up the stairs. A strange sphere of radiance with no visible source floated over Karux's head lighting the way.

"Where are we going?" Garanth asked.

"The dwerka have loaned us the use of one of their public spaces. The tacarchs and nearly all the tireavs have gathered there."

"All of them?" Garanth couldn't imagine any space, below or above ground, large enough to contain their tireavs. He followed Karux down corridors he had never seen until a sound like an ocean echoed up from the walls. Karux's sphere of light evaporated as they stepped out into an enormous area that Garanth first thought must be an outside valley. The ocean sound came from the murmuring of a sea of people which seemed to spread to a shadowy horizon. Overhead, silvery nets hung from the ceiling holding basketsful of phosite gems. Their multi-colored light ebbed and flowed with the surge and retreat of invisible waves of karis.

Karux descended a long ramp and walked down an aisle through the middle of the crowd. He paused long enough to turn and wave impatiently for Garanth to follow, then continued on to a platform at the far end of the cavern. The murmuring rose to a rumble as he stopped and waited for Garanth to join him at his side. Garanth noticed the arcanths of all the allied villages stood with them on the platform and the first few rows of the crowd were filled with the tacarchs of all the hands of reavers.

With a quieting hand upraised, Karux waited for the noise to die down. "Faithful spears of the mountain, hear my words! Thirteen years ago, Amantis opened a door for the n'kroi, those accursed spirits of the Void, and they cursed the land. Our crops wither, our animals grow barren and each year the blight spreads further."

The crowd began to murmur and Karux paused, hand uplifted to signal he wasn't finished. "Amantis also sent spears to take our food which we defeated and so thought we were done fighting, but that is not so. Amantis' legacy lives on in the city of Nur. They have gathered more spears and have begun to attack our koria in the south..." The crowd began rumbling again, but Karux raised his voice to be heard above them. "But that is not all! Amantis also bred monsters that were neither men nor animal."

This brought an angry roar from the crowd. When they didn't quiet down at the sight of Karux's raised hands, made a gesture and all the phosite gems in the room went dark. A collective gasp rose up and the light slowly came back on in a much quieter room.

"We can defeat these threats," Karux announced, "but we will need to combine all the strength of every free korion to do it. Every reaver must do his part and work together with his fellows under a single leader, a leader who understands the way of the spear and who will work tirelessly to guide others along that path."

More murmuring sounded and Garanth expected Karux to re-assert his authority over the spears. He glanced at the elders of Har-Tor, standing behind the row of arcanths on the platform, and expected to see frowns. Instead saw grim nods of agreement.

"I have spoken with the tacarchs and with the arcanths of all the other koria. They all agree that the person to be chosen is Garanth."

Karux indicated Garanth with an outflung hand. Garanth felt as if he had been hit by a bucket of ice water. He looked around to reassure himself that this was no trick, or perhaps another Garanth stood nearby... The tacarchs before the platform started to cheer and chant his name, "Gar-Anth Gar-Anth," stomping on the floor in rhythm. Macander, standing by the arcanths, smiled and nodded at him as if Garanth had done something to deserve the accolades.

The roar took several minutes to subside and Karux seemed not to be in a hurry to end it. When it finally died down Karux spoke again. "Tomorrow Garanth will meet with the arcanths and the tacarchs to plan the defense of our lands from the coming invasion. The rest of you return to your training confident we have a plan for victory."

Karux finished his speech and turned to shake Garanth's nerveless hand. He stepped aside and others rushed forward to do the same.

"Congratulations," Corha whispered in his ear as she hugged him. "I'll see you later. It looks like you're going to be busy here." She stepped back and disappeared in the crush of people who offered words of praise and confidence in his leadership.

It took at least an hour for the crowd break up. Knuckles, Crease, Tosser and Sticker were among the last to hang around.

"We're going to go get a drink," Knuckles said. "Why don't you come with us?"

Garanth sat on the edge of the platform. "I'm already feeling a little light-headed. Maybe next time."

"As you wish, Archon."

"Archon?"

"That's what we decided to call you," Tosser said. "You're the high one, the one in charge of everything."

Garanth sighed. "Don't remind me."

Garanth's old hand of spears, the core of the Gobo Bashers, walked out, their pleased laughter echoing in the empty room. He sat with head bowed and concentrated on his breathing as anxiety filled him. What was Karux thinking? Was this some elaborate ploy to control the tireavs through him? Was he really in charge of all their forces, the one responsible for all their lives? He had grown up with Karux's constant references to the struggles ahead. He had a fair idea of the horrors that awaited them all and he was now thrust right into the middle of it.

"The dwerka are building a road."

Garanth looked up. Eiraena stood before him alone. "What?"

"The dwerka are building a road."

Garanth stared at her in silence but she just stared back. "And?"

"Come." Eiraena started to walk away, pausing until he rose and followed. She led him confidently down strange dark corridors and would have continued without light had he not produced his phosite gem and struggled to gather the karis to light it.

"Where are we going," he asked.

"Here." Eiraena rounded a corner and pointed down a broad dark passage that sloped gently away under the mountain. Unfinished surfaces still bore the signs of tool marks. Stray bits of rubble littered the corners. In the far distance the ring of picks and shovels echoed down the passage.

"Where does this go?"

"Ogofdinas."

"Ogofdinas! That's impossible; Ogofdinas must be fifty miles away.

"This road will join all their cities," Eiraena said. "At the end is always Ogofdinas."

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

Andral awoke knowing something important had changed. He went through the motions of playing oracle to the few customers who were desperate enough to thread through the crowd of strange people living in the street outside his door, but most of what he said only disturbed or upset them. A little past mid-day, the customers were all gone and his madra allowed him to leave for Sarco's place.

He saw the red hands smeared across the front of Sarco's house from the end of the street. He race up to the front door which had been smashed in and stepped over the wreckage. Blood and smashed furniture were everywhere. Stepping into the back, he found what was left of Sarco and his wife hanging on meat hooks.

An unexpected sense of anger and injustice stirred deep within Andral. He looked up into the shredded flesh that had once been the face of his friend and it seemed to say this is just the way life is. One day everyone will be nothing more than rotting meat. In the meantime, you will be either the butcher or the carcass.

In a daze he walked out the back door into the slaughter yard. The smell of blood and rot and death had always seemed to promise him power, but now the promise was empty. He looked around and dozens of ragged shadows sidled up to the fence surrounding the yard. The people who lived in the street outside his door silently watched him as if expecting him to do something. The beetles were also present, though they seem to hide in the grass at the edge of the property.

"Spirits of the land, attend me!" Andral cried out with arms uplifted. The beetles retreated further into the grass and disappeared. Andral waited, but he felt no sense of presence.

"Blood will call out to the spirits," a wild-haired old woman said.

Andral glanced back at the shop; it was covered in bright sprays of blood.

"Fresh blood," the old man in the over-sized clothes said.

"Human blood," the middle-aged woman in his madra's old dress added.

Andral bowed his head and thought about the red hands. He could only remember one name. He looked up at the old woman. "Tarakae."

The old woman nodded. "He'll do."

The group shuffled away toward the harbor, drawing him after them with backward glances. Andral followed. He would find his power there.