Outside, the rain had cleared and the night was maturing, nearing the early hours of morning as both men walked to find a place on top of the newly erected walls, where they could converse in solitude. Any soldiers that might have been within earshot would be far away by now, continuing the construction of the wall.

Reaching the top of the ramp, Kobin took several more paces to his left, his boots heavy on the metal grate beneath his feet. He made no attempt to hide his presence from anyone near.

'My talks with the High Council have been long and many,' he began, 'their faith builds higher with each meet.'

'I would imagine so,' said Liet, walking to stand on Kobin's left side, 'but will that faith grow enough to be superior to Alkon's word? This is the question I would like answered.'

'A doubt to me states that you lack confidence. Have you learnt nothing of my work? Perhaps you need more proof of my ability,' said Kobin, evil intention filling his voice as he spoke down at Liet.

'I do not wish to feel your wrath if that is your query. I wish only to be sure that I fulfil a greater purpose than mere seizure of power.'

Kobin looked at Liet, curious as to why he had not told of this ambition before. 'And what is this greater purpose?'

'Revenge,' Liet returned with a slight note of anger attached. 'My homeland was taken from me long ago because of that blunderer's father.'

'Whose?'

'The general's.'

Kobin lifted a curious eyebrow. 'How?'

'Before him, his father was general, a spy, though I could not prove it. He let our enemies run an underground network for years-let them build their forces until we were at our weakest, and they attacked. I was stationed at a military camp at the time, but I saw the fruits of their work. Hundreds of buildings falling as if the earth was swallowing the entire city, power completely lost, emergency forces standing helpless as no road was left intact.

'My father ran to save my mother that night, alone, into the black smoke without a mask. It was the last I saw of him-the last I saw of my city. They did something to the air, to the ground. To this day nothing can live there without contracting a fatal illness.'

'I did not ask for your entire story, touching as it is,' interrupted Kobin with a tone of anger, as if Liet's words had been little more than common dribble, unworthy of his attention. 'How does this justify revenge on the general, is your quarrel not with his father?'

'They were of the same purpose. It is as much the general's fault as it is his father's, and for that, he will pay. Xosuh was the greatest nation of the world, centuries of the leading minds working together to build the perfect society, wasted, all because of those traitors and their allies. Do you know what it is to see such beauty destroyed, to lose your homeland, to see your people die?'

Kobin rolled his eyes slowly, shaking his head. 'Fool!' he shot in a mutter as he turned back to the trees ahead.

As if by the power of the word alone, Liet cringed as if a knife had just pierced his chest and his mind had begun to collapse. Suddenly he was feeling as if he were unable to breathe, as if he had fallen into the darkest of pools where all light became blurred, feelings became numbed, and sounds became muffled and slowed.

There were sounds, deep sounds. Someone was talking to him. He thought he could hear words of a sort, but none were distinguishable. He looked up at Kobin as he fell to one knee, through the swirling blends of colour that blocked his peripheral sight. Kobin was standing, unaffected by whatever had taken hold of Liet. But just as suddenly as it had come, the distortion stopped and Liet was able to stand up, using the railing as support as his body gathered its strength, almost as if nothing had happened.

Kobin had continued speaking, despite Liet's fall.

'Do you forget we are standing within a fort built over what was once my home?' Kobin laughed. 'But no, your words rephrased ask if I have had everything that I truly desired taken from me. And to this, I would answer yes, and no, for Callibra was a disease that plagued my heart and tortured my very soul, but I have suffered much in my time, so I must answer yes.'

'You are right,' said Liet, struggling to regain vision as he leaned on the railing with all his weight. 'I do not possess the brilliance you do. My apologies, I had forgotten this was once your home.'

Liet stopped struggling, questions now flooding his mind. He had just complimented Kobin, conceded defeat and shown weakness to a man of no rank. He had spoken as if he were a servant. How could this be? What had come over him?

There was something wrong here. Something he had not encountered before. Or were the days spent travelling finally taking their toll? Wallowing in disorientation but having wit enough about him to think somewhat clearly, Liet turned to look at Kobin, searching for answers. Was he the cause? There was something about this man that did not seem natural. It was as if he possessed a power within, suppressed and hidden, but there and in his control. Liet had never felt anything like it in all his life. He had become completely helpless both physically and mentally at once, as if he had entered a cataclysm and total shock of the senses.

He had always strived to be the strongest of men, despite his wiry, thin body frame. He had been forced to use intelligence in place of muscle and could match intellects with the best, yet all failed under this man.

Building up what courage he could, Liet spoke, 'Your words ring of superior intellect, but your meaning seems that of a madman. I ask; who in their right mind would desire the destruction of their home with such vengeance for something as simple as dislike?'

'A madman-do you accuse me of this?' asked Kobin, his brows pointed and eyes seemingly on fire. 'Tread carefully as you walk,' he threatened, and Liet's sudden burst of courage fled him. 'A fall is inevitable if the wrong step is taken. For this your question shall go unanswered, and you will not query of it again!'

Liet felt the knife pass through him a second time as each word was sent flying at him, as if they were actual blades rather than composed sounds of thought. The power of the man who spoke down to him was too much to bear, leaving him feeling like a weak child rather than the high-ranking lieutenant-general that he was. Only by his sudden decision to turn and look away into Alkon's quarters was his mind relieved of the pressure.

'Look!' he said. 'Our general is informing the High Council of our success in establishment, but he does not tell them of the new weapon.'

'New weapon?'

'Yes, to kill the Daijuar.'

Kobin was thoughtful. 'That is against Alliance law, is it not?'

'It is, a fatal error in trust, I believe,' said Liet, breathlessly. 'The general's desire to show his achievement overwhelmed his better judgement to keep it secret.'

'I see ambition fast overcoming clarity. Rest your heavy mind and allow one of real strength to weave this web. Our general seems to be weakening, just as I have thought all along,' said Kobin, and with those words, both men fell silent, watching the general speak.

Chapter Eight.

We fall.

January 15, 997 R.E.

They were gone.

Jaden stood facing the trees outside of the cave, shaking a little. There was a slight chill from a mild breeze in the mountains, cooled by the icy kiss of a light drizzle that fell in waves across the land. Water droplets trickled over and splashed onto the leaves in front of him, delicately passing down a complicated weave to meet the dark rocks far below. He watched each drop pass, unmoving, but saw none.

They were gone.

Thunder rolled out over the heavens, a deep, resonating tone far in the distance, reminding him that he was still alive, still flesh and blood. He had survived, somehow. The attack should have meant his death. He should have died then, with his people, with the ones he loved. He should not have been standing here now, alone, a failed shell of what could have been.

A tear made its way down his cheek, his mother's face returning through memory. They had no idea of the beauty they had destroyed, the innocence they had ruined. She had been the perfect mother; kind, loving to all. She had never harmed anyone. She did not deserve such a horrific end. How could they have done this to her? How could it have happened?

The last moments before his home disappeared played out in his mind. He had failed her, just as he had failed his family and friends. They were gone ... all of them. Gone.

The thought repeated over and over, as if only to entrench itself deeper within his mind each time, cutting through the last threads of his sanity and sending sharp pains slicing into his stomach and chest. Never again would he look upon their faces, hear their laughter or feel them near. Never again would he know the comfort of his mother's smile, or the pride he felt as he helped his little brother through the pains of childhood he knew only too well. They were gone, never to return, leaving his world at an abrupt end.

He should not have survived, he cursed angrily at himself. He should have died while trying to save them.

His eyes fell, closing as he bowed to the trees, bare feet inching closer to the ledge. It should never have happened-the attack, the loss of innocent life, his survival-none of it. All should have been as it was; a peaceful village going about its days free of any troubles that may have plagued the world around it, and he still in bed, sleeping soundly before waking to the loving warmth of his mother's and siblings' morning greetings. He had forgotten how much he had enjoyed it, so lost had he been in the troubles of the invisible hell that had closed upon him. It pained him to think about it, how life had changed so dramatically in the space of hours. It almost seemed to taunt him, that it all could have been avoided so easily. In a few hours, they could have escaped. They would have lost their home, but they would have had each other still and found new land elsewhere, away from the wars. It could have been so different.

He winced. He knew he could not bring his home back, nor could he return his family to life. He could do nothing, nothing but take a single step forward-embracing the only justice he could bring to an otherwise senseless crime. His village was in ruin. His life had already been taken away from him. There was nothing left to lose. All would be forgotten beyond the edge before him.

One step. That's all it would take to make the pain go away. One step and he would be reunited with his family. One step and he would never need to endure such loss again.

His left foot rose to move forward, moments of his life passing before his eyes. It would all be over soon. He would know the peace that only nothingness could bring.

He paused, holding off the dark of oblivion as a western wind caught his attention, the rain and hair brushed from his face by its gentle caress. He opened his eyes to look in the direction it had come from. It had frightened him. It didn't feel right. There had been a voice in that breeze, calling him, asking him questions he did not understand. No words had been spoken, not a single phrase uttered, but it had called to him, somehow.

He blinked. In the gap between the trees, there was nothing, only his imagination playing tricks in the emptiness-strange silhouettes in the early light of dawn against gray clouds, no more. His left foot touched ground, what was beyond the edge suddenly forgotten.

He shook his head as he found himself trying to change the past again. It didn't matter anymore. They were gone. All that they had built was lost, and all that they had dreamed was now an endangered memory. After him, the spirit of Callibra would be extinct. The military force had been victorious over the Callibrai, and soon they would have defeated the Daiyus family. He, too, would now perish, because of his father's failure to bring the protection he sought.

His father...

Tyral had been fighting Kobin before the attack. Why were they fighting? Was it because Jaden had been selected to go to war? Was it because the force they brought had turned against them? Jaden stepped back from the ledge. He had never trusted Kobin, but even he could not be foolish enough to bring a hostile military unit into the village. It didn't make sense. What had happened? Was his father still alive? He would be captured, but he could still be alive.

Jaden sat down, crossing his legs as he rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, trying to make sense of it all. He wanted the pain to end, but he now realised that he didn't want to die. He couldn't. His family had given him everything so that he would live on, no matter what happened. He understood now why his grandfather had spent so much time speaking with him, readying him for fears he had never known, horrors that didn't seem to exist. It was all for this. Vennoss had known war would come to them some day. He had wanted to make sure Jaden was ready, but he must have known nothing could have prepared him for this. Everything had been destroyed in a matter of hours. Everything had been lost in an instant. All the wisdom in the world could not have done battle with the emotions he now felt. He was beaten, empty and alone. Aches were rampant throughout his entire body as his head throbbed with the echo of gunfire from the night before. There was nothing left, nothing he could do.

It was no longer safe in Callibra so close to the military force. Jaden knew he would have to leave, if he wished to live. His grandfather had wanted him to go north, but there was nothing for him there. He could go west and seek shelter in one of the safe nations, but knowing that the military force had come from that way, he wasn't sure if any of them would be friendly anymore.

Jaden looked up into the trees again, now seeing the droplets and their chaotic rhythm as they danced down through the leaves.

What is this world? He suddenly found himself wondering. He knew of the beauty that it possessed, yet it all seemed so alien now. These trees had grown tall on the mountain from its dirt. They had been sculptured by their environment; by the amount of rain in the seasons, the many vines that threatened to choke them and the various insects that made them their home. They could just as easily not have existed, and yet here they were, standing tall, defying the laws of uncertainty with their presence alone. They were beautiful, the highest expression of what they were.

A shudder of pain washed over him. He could run from the tragedy only for so long before questions and memories began to take control of his mind again. His mother was dead. His family was lost. They were gone. Why? Why had it happened? Why now? How could such cruelty be real?

For all the beauty there was, it was bitterness that seemed to reign in his thoughts. The marvel of the wilderness, the Earth and its rings and all the wildlife that roamed in between, all of it meant nothing. There was only the tainted memory of what was, what he thought had been, and all of it had been a lie.

This world was evil.

He felt himself falling inside as he curled over onto the hard wet stone, the pain unbearable. Tears were coming freely to his eyes as everything replayed over and over, making him want to scream, to cry out for someone or something to come and save him, to take him away from this and put an end to the misery. He couldn't go on like this. He couldn't hold these memories if his sanity was to be left intact.

The seconds turned into minutes as he lay broken outside of the cave, his eyes drained and voice a frail whisper as he mouthed the question "Why?" a final time.

When he could find no answers and cry no more, he sat up, staring downward into the trees. The aches had not left. The visions still seemed real. The questions ever present.

Why? Anger began to surface. Why were his emotions tormenting him so? Why couldn't he escape this pain? Why couldn't he break free of its hold?

He had to do something. Anything. He needed to move, to be heard or to see something outside the small space he had found himself trapped within. He stood up and walked past the cave, heading east. He didn't care what he was doing, all he knew was that he would go now, and walk to wherever the road would take him. He would travel until he found a low ridge he could cross easily, and then he would make his way around the mountains to the south. Unless there were men stationed around the entire area, he would be safe on this route.

It felt good to be moving. It distracted him. By having to navigate over the slippery rocks and mudslides, he was forced to use all of his concentration just to remain upright. There were no manmade trails set through the mountains; he had to force his way through the shrubs, fallen trees and greyed, collapsed branches as he went, welcoming each challenge as a means of escape. Finally he could be free of the torment, as long as he kept moving.

These parts of the mountain were filled with wildlife, most of which was hidden, but he needed to duck under and go around several large spider webs as he went. Their poisons would not kill him, but they would make him very ill, and there would be no healing from his mother this time. When he was younger, he had accidentally run straight into a lot of the webs he encountered, and while most of the spiders quickly crawled down his chest to get away, some had left their mark. Sometimes their venom had repeated on him, even after his mother's help. They had left a strange sickness within. Milayiss, the illness his grandfather had mentioned perhaps came from this. Maybe the dreams had been from the same.

He stepped around a large rock half heartedly, almost into another web between two trees, but he had stopped cold in his tracks, oblivious to the web in front of him. He had seen something else, something far below the pass. A flicker. Movement. His weary eyes scanned cautiously. Someone was down there. Soldiers, he thought, looking for him. They would be scouting the land for any survivors, so that no news of their arrival could travel.

Another flicker. This time he was sure of it. He moved around the trees to get a better look. He could see them now, standing in the open. One man. No more. Jaden moved curiously through the few plants for a clearer view of the entire area. He had glimpsed a cave behind the man where there had been more movement. He was right. There were others sitting behind him, inside the cave. What were soldiers doing inside a cave?

He thought hard, but could only come to one conclusion. They were not soldiers at all. They were Callibrian survivors. Had others made it out? Yes, they must have. He wasn't the only one. There were hundreds running for the mountains.

Almost tripping over, he raced down the slope to them, startling the man standing outside as he neared.

'Jaden,' said the man in surprise. 'My boy, you're alive!'

Jaden studied him. He was badly beaten, bruised and cut, marks of the attack covering his body, but otherwise in good health and considerable spirit. The man was Don Lohera, an elder of the village. He had always been a wise and calculated man, one of the few who did not partake in the rivalry of the social clans. His long, matted gray hair hung loosely in his face from the rain and his voice seemed calm yet raspy, as if he had accepted what had happened, but had suffered greatly from it.

'And you, Don,' said Jaden, looking at the others in the cave, grim expressions on all, no excitement to see his arrival. They, like Don, were also from the north of Callibra, but they did not share the same enthusiasm that Don did for all Callibra-born people. They only favoured their beloved Pioneers.

'What are you doing here?' asked Jaden.

'Waiting, I expect,' said Don. 'Don't mind them, they are finding it hard to cope with the grief, as am I, but I try to stay away from pity, it is not good for one's blood.'

Jaden acknowledged the expression with a nod. 'What are you waiting for?'

'Other survivors perhaps, a plan of some kind, or the grief to pass. Your guess is as good as mine.'

'We can't stay here,' said Jaden.

Don nodded knowingly. 'You're right, but you'll have a task trying to convince them of that.'

'We have no choice,' said Jaden, pausing for a moment. 'I will try.'

Jaden walked past Don to better see those within the cave. He knew they did not mean any disrespect by not greeting him. They were broken, just as he was. But they could not simply wait here. As his grandfather had told him long ago, when a village or city was conquered, the victorious army would seek out all survivors and make sure their security was not breached. It was for this reason and more that they had to leave Callibra.

Jaden's eyes focused on the group near the back of the cave. He had seen a large figure, a familiar, young but bruised face in the small amount of light. He realised then who it was. Beneath a gashed brow and a swollen, blackened eye was his nemesis, Ardim. He stared for a moment, but felt no anger. In this tragedy, they were brothers. Petty battles had always been fought, but there was no hatred for the one who had attempted to bully him so often, only sympathy and empathy for the poor young man who had suffered such loss. Even one as strong as Ardim had been powerless against the soldiers. They had been large men, even greater than Ardim's family. And now Ardim would understand what it was to be physically overpowered by someone greater in stature.

'Ardim,' said Jaden, and then waited for a reply.

Ardim looked up slowly, their eyes locking briefly, as if speaking silent thoughts to each other. For once in their lives, there was understanding between them, all past troubles being forgotten. Ardim gave a small nod and returned his gaze to the floor. There would be no words spoken, but they were enemies no more.

Behind Ardim, Jaden could now make out bodies lying down, sleeping, he hoped. It was still early morning, they would need their rest after the shock and terrible images had been burnt into their memories. Those who could not sleep simply sat with their heads hung low, still ignorant of Jaden's arrival. It pained him to see this, even though they were his rivals, he did not like that they had been treated in this manner. He would never have wished such a fate, even on them, the ones that had made his days more difficult than they should have been for his entire life. For all their wrongs, they were still his people, and this was not a just punishment.

'I am going to find my father,' he said, as carefully as he could manage, deciding now that he needed a new plan of action. He was not alone. There was still hope. 'I last saw him on the road to the west. I think he'll be going for help. We'll bring an army to fight the Alliance.'

There was silence. None even seemed to hear him, let alone understand.

'You are all welcome to join me,' he went on. 'Together we can bring them to justice.'

Again there was no reply. Jaden began to wonder if they were ignoring him on purpose, or if they had been made deaf by the explosions. He softened his tone further as he realised they may have been in too much pain to give him their attention.

'Who will come with me?' he asked.

'Your father is dead, Jaden,' said a man abruptly.

Jaden searched for the voice. It had come from near Ardim, almost sounding like Ardim's voice but different somehow, deeper, raspier, more mature. Jaden first guessed it was the eldest brother, but soon saw it was actually Kal, the father of the two.

'No,' said Jaden confidently, now able to reveal his own father's secrets freely. There was no need for secrecy any longer. 'He is still on the road. He has been negotiating with the greater nations to protect Callibra, but now they will fight for us.'

Jaden stopped as he saw the faint outline of Kal's head shaking from side to side.

'Your innocence is a terrible thing. The fool was not bringing an army for protection-he was leading them to conquest.'