Flenelle
Izus pulled the dagger softly free from the young boy’s chest. He had ended the child’s life so swiftly, that the dark-haired boy seemed to sigh into a deeper slumber.

The bedchamber was quiet. The house was quiet. The brown-cloaked man’s work was almost finished.
He wandered idly through the family’s library. A frown creased his face when he saw that the father’s heartblood had sprayed over a rather fine edition of Tonics and Tinctures of the Altan Greenspeakers.

So wasteful, he thought. But no matter…

Izus stepped carefully over the dozen bodies that littered the hallway. The house guard had been quite fervent in their defense. The brown-cloaked man casually ran a finger along the wall as he walked – a ripple of green and purple flame following. The stone began to burn.

Why had he left the boy for last? Chance? Perhaps to lengthen his last dream.

The mother’s body was slumped in the doorway, gushing blood onto the steps. Her form was wedged in front of the door, so Isuz sent one last gout of strange flame, reducing her to ashes.

He shut the door behind him.

Izus Torrosian turned back only once, as the green and purple inferno began to consume the manor. The estate shared the street with several other fine homes. His flame was beginning to dissipate into honest fire, but he could see it licking through the grass, hungry to burn. This whole tier of the city could very shortly be ablaze.

Wasteful, he thought. But no matter…

A flash of golden feathers, and the roc landed before him. The brown-cloaked man pulled himself up onto Bird’s strong back, and sent him skyward with a thought. In a moment, they were winging through an open space in the walls, leaving the spreading flame behind them.

The brown-cloaked man’s work was finished.

The brown-cloaked man’s work was only beginning.

Somewhere
Two thieves sat uncomfortably in a smoky room at the back of an inn. The money was good that had brought them here, but the contacts had all warned against pursuing the job. Dark rumors surrounded this employer, and the deeply cowled figure sitting across from them did nothing to alleviate their concerns.Their new employer’s voice is soft and sweet, but the temperature dropped steadily during his instructions. Each thief’s breath steamed as they exhaled. The cowl turned towards the first thief.

“So we have a contract?”

Sweat beaded on the thief’s nose, and he nodded. A half second later the second thief jiggled his flabby jowls in assent.

The hooded figure continued.

“Bring me the girl alive.”

The two thieves almost leaped out of their chairs in relief, and made their way to the door. On the back of their vests, black wings are marked.

Frost gathered on their abandoned mugs. The room was empty.

Pice
Ananda’s naked form shone in the light of the White Moon. She rose from the bed, leaving her current distraction gasping, eyes wide.

He won’t last much longer. Pity.

The Moonchylde’s lovers rarely lasted much beyond a fistful of days.

Her glass spectacles floated across the room, trailing white ribbons. Of their own volition, they threaded themselves through the piercings that rim her face. The dark-haired woman looked out at the White Moon and smiled – looking past it towards the small sliver of the Black Moon, receding on the horizon.

Come soon, my love…

Quorum
Enton raised his hands, as if to ward off a blow.

“Madame Karis, I’m sorry if you’re upset, but we handled it the best way we knew how! They did save the city, we couldn’t very well have attacked them at that point. It would have been a public relations nightmare for the company.”

The elegantly dressed woman tapped a nail on her desk, then abruptly slammed her fist down.

Karis replied, “ I don’t want excuses, fool – I want results. You had that motley crew of sniveling thieves in your grasp, and you let them get away! What part of my instructions were confusing or unclear?!?”

The dark-skinned human smiled nervously. He moved to the window, and looked up at the White Moon just beginning to rise. Without turning, he spoke quickly.

“It wasn’t a total wash, Madame. Your …err, assistant Morris did have some success during his infiltration of the Lodestar. He discovered something very…interesting.”

From his place next to the door, the bondslave Morris took a single step forward. His perfectly parted hair slid slightly across his youthful face. He spoke without emotion.

“That is correct, Mistress Karis. It is as we suspected, the Lodestar is far more than it appears. I have sketched the engine room from memory, and it matches exactly with the schematics that Seafoam obtained from the Library of Pice. It is definitely of Arkanic origin.”

Karis smiled for the first time since her arrival in Quorum. Her lips are painted an immaculate purple.

The crew of the Lodestar gathered on deck for a matter of some urgency. They had traveled south steadily since Quorum, and only this afternoon crossed into the open sea that separates Tel from the southern continent of Eridia. Each person looked tensely at the other, not knowing quite what to expect once they stepped on deck.

A little blonde girl.

Talitha looked at the assembled adventurers with a severe expression as they emerged. The effect is somewhat marred by the elaborate tiara made from some spare wiring, and a rudimentary sword and armor that seem to be constructed from an old mushroom crate. Both have been liberally daubed with blue paint, unearthed from somewhere in the ship’s bowels. She pointed imperiously to a few blankets and bedsheets that had been carefully spread on the deck.

“You’re all late! You shouldn’t be late for a show!”

The sheets are held down with various items: one of Haskeer’s gauntlets, several of Carbunkle’s books, and a surprisingly heavy loaf of bread, left behind by one of Mobius’ more disastrous culinary experiments. A bit of ripped sail has been hung between the masts as a backdrop, with the sheets arrayed facing it in a rough semi-circle.

The crew sat, The Vagabonder, Agnar and Haskeer in back due to excessive tallness. Corben immediately began to pass a flask of jem-wine, while Carbunkle lit his pipe. Fin sat down carefully in the center. Echo and Bramble conveniently took seats on opposite sides. Lucina floated behind everyone, and yawned with boredom.

Talitha fussed over everyone for a few moments, making certain that they were comfortable and could all see. She is only momentarily delayed by the cookies that Carbunkle “finds” under his skull-cap. At last she moved in front of the backdrop, and brandished her wooden sword.

“Welcome to my play! The Adventures of the Hero-Princess Talitha and the Black and White Monster!”

Corben is momentarily struck by the outline of Talitha’s sword. It seemed so familiar…

“So the Hero-Princess set out one day to go on adventures – she traveled far and wide, for a hundred thousand miles.”

The little blonde girl pumped her arms up and down, mimicking a noble walk. A piece of her armor dislodged, and falls to the deck with a thunk.

“She walked and walked –and couldn’t find any adventures! So one day she got very sad, and sat down to cry. It’s okay to cry, her Uncle told her so.”

This last line is delivered very seriously to the audience. Talitha looked back and forth to make sure this is absorbed.

“But just then, a magical flying ship came down and it was full of new friends for the Hero-Princess! There was a Knight with Shiny Armor, and a Wizard with a Magical Friend, and a Mystical Underwater Elf, and a Dwarven Monk of the Order –“

She looks to Fin, who mouths along with her, “…Ong-Bara’zakund, and a Northman with a Firey Sword, and two Tricksters, one short and one tall. Oh, and an Engineer and a Cook.”

Bramble sighed, and dragged her hand across her face.

“ The Hero-Princess jumped on the magic ship right away. Then she said ‘Take me to the adventures! The Black and White Monster can’t be far now!…..”

The green snake hated the men of the village.

They would stomp at him with their boots, and stab at him with their rakes and scythes. They went into his nest and crushed his brood, and skinned his mate for belt leather.

So the green snake went to the riverbed and swallowed stone after stone after stone.

It caused him great pain, but eventually his scales grew as hard as diamond.

He laughed, and slithered into the village – striking at will with venom and fang.

The boots of the men crumpled against his stone skin, their rakes and scythes shattered on his hard back.  For each shattered egg, he took one of the men’s children, and flung himself into the bosom of mother after mother, hissing revenge.

At last he grew tired, and curled up in the wheat field, still marveling at his invincibility.

And so the men of the village burned the wheat field. They burned their houses, and burned the corpses of the dead. They left in the night, leaving behind nothing but ash.

The Stone Viper awoke, and found only smoke. The men burned as they went, so as fast as the snake slithered it could never quite make it beyond the flames to the green pastures beyond.

After ten days and nights, the snake stopped moving.

He coughed up the stones one by one, and died surrounded by fire.

X.
The rain pounded onto the squire’s head. Reflexively, he pulled up his hood.

He had come home against all advice. Ignoring the words of his fellows, his knight, and his lord he had stolen away in the night. Stolen away with a stolen sword.

It was his master’s second-best sword.

Thinking, It can’t be as bad as the tales say. Gilead is my home — surely my father and sister survived the..the darkness, his path had brought him here.

And now, past rain and blood, past the grasp of the dead, and the mad words of a blind priest, he was home. Jonas peered up through the rain at the moon. He’d been in town only an hour or two. Such a short time.

It wasn’t too late to leave. Keeping his wits about him, he could easily avoid the once-men as before and make his way out of town. The green light in the keep’s windows leered at him.

No. It was too late. The shadow on Gilead has marked him, there was no turning back.

Jonas cupped his hand and caught rain water. He briskly scrubbed the blood from his cloak, face and hands. The words of the blank-faced priest were not cleansed as easily.
The squire stood, and sheathed the sword. I must find some place dry, and give it a proper cleaning, or it will rust.

The rain began to ease, as Jonas moved across the balcony towards a nearby rooftop. A short jump, and he was across. His answers were in the keep, and he intended to have them.

End Chapter