The Sword Sworn - 3. Chapter 3: A Challenge From the Past

The flames surrounding Garrett grew brighter. Garrett winced with the pain that flared up all over his body in response. Other voices cried out in fear. Garrett turned around, stared at the familiar faces of the students who had been meant to be exiled. Faces that were filled with panic, limbs frozen with fear. All in all, they numbered 12. And, as best as he could tell, they were all trapped inside the dome of fire that surrounded them.

The tower room was gone. There was nothing past the flames that encompassed them. Winslow, Jarred, Zeke, all the students who were still students. They were all gone. Darkness had taken their place.

The flames died then. The darkness rushed in, stifled the air, and buried them. Garrett blinked against the spots in his eyes and reached out with his hand, felt for the hands of one of the other kids. Found it and froze.

Who are you? The voice was soft, a mere whisper in the dark. He tried to reply. He couldn't.

Another voice answered. One of the students, off to his left.

Another question was asked. Garrett couldn't understand the words, nor could he understand the answers that came from his companion. Then silence reigned in the darkness once more. Garrett felt like they were being judged.

You are not the one, but you have potential not yet realized. Will you test and find your power, or shall you...

"I want to go home. I will not test," the student finally answered, his voice thin and weak within the darkness. Garrett thought it was Jebediah, a thin, scrawny lad a couple of years younger than he was.

...Perish? So be it.

Garrett's wounds throbbed even more as a ball of light appeared; flashed forward. The pain he was feeling was a reaction to what was, Garrett suddenly realized, a fireball rushing right for them. Garrett freaked out.

No! With that one thought, instinct took over. He felt himself pull at something, draw upon power that made the conscious part of his body flinch, almost drawing him up short. Something gave in. He pulled harder, consciously wanting something...anything... to happen.

The sound of hissing steam met his ears as the flaming ball died. Garrett stepped backwards, bumped into someone. He fumbled around in the dark for a moment before what little military training he'd had kicked in. Someone was out there. It knew where they were, was trying to kill them. The odds were stacked against them. It already knew far more about them then they did it...was there more than one person...thing?

Garrett swallowed convulsively. Most mages that he knew who were capable of producing fireballs couldn't make any the size of the one that had just flew at them. Thankfully those mages could only produce a couple of them within an hour.

He shivered.

Then he panicked, again, as his body was wracked with tremendous pain. There wasn't just one fireball coming at them now, but a whole bunch that lit up the darkness. All of them were flying at him. Them... Garrett's instincts reacted again; he found himself wishing he knew what he was doing, hating that he was incapable of striking back even as he felt himself pulling...

Steam hissed in the air again, only it wasn't enough. A lick of flame stung his face as the steam heated up the air, started cooking him inside his clothes.

Who are you? That someone...something...asked again.

Garrett didn't answer.

:Help me!: he called out, reaching for the other voice that, as far as he knew, hadn't been trying to kill him, though it had come a lot closer to succeeding thin this new voice had, so far.

Help you? There is nothing here that can help you. You must help yourself. But you are different from the others. I have not seen your likes in centuries. Not here, certainly not in the flesh. Who are you, Saxoph-Lon? You are already marked. You do not belong here.

Marked? Whatever, he needed help. He called out once more.

I told you, there is no help for you. You must help yourself!

Another fireball flared in the darkness, followed by two more, then four more, eight more, multiplying in number until there were thirty two in total, barreling down on Garrett and his ill-fated companions. They would all surely die this time.

Garrett opened his mouth and screamed even as he dimly became aware of the fact that his pants were very...very...wet. He lost control over the power he had been drawing his energy from. Something expanded outward from the middle of his body, surrounding him and nine of the others. He heard, momentarily, the screams of the two that he couldn't cover, before silence took their place as they got struck by a couple of fireballs. A bone chilling wind blew outward from behind him then, gusted past him. Something else, colder then the wind, soaked his clothes, chilled his skin.

The fireballs grew dim then darkened to a pinpoint prick. Then they became brighter again, outlining a wall of ice that visibly began to melt as the sound of cracking ice filled the air along with the sound the fireballs made from blasting into it with such concussive force. The wall exploded, turned into steam as the last sixteen fireballs blew into it at once.

The sound was deafening.

Garrett was still panicking; he was ready to drop from the sudden pain in his chest, his head felt like it was going to explode as more energy was gathered. A different darkness began to dim his vision.

That energy burst outwards and caught at the steam, cooled it and gathered the drops of water. The wind exploded outward, taking the water that had pooled together in mid air even as the water broke apart, formed into long strings and froze. The sharp daggers and spears of thick ice flew with the wind in all directions.

The blades of ice were followed by a sudden heat that formed in front of Garrett, heat that exploded and flew with the wind. A fireball took form, multiplied the same as the ones that had been trying to destroy him; continued to multiply, surpassing the previous ones in numbers as they continued to fly into the darkness until they finally struck something and exploded. Then the flow of energy stopped, diminished until it was no longer discernible to Garrett's senses.

Garrett dropped to his knees, panting for breath as exhaustion struck him. The room began to spin, which was odd sense there was no light source. He definitely felt like he was going to be sick. He tried pushing the exhaustion away, to no avail. He needed to ready himself for another attack.

No attack came though. In the back of his head he wondered if he had slain whatever creature had put them in peril. Soft laughter echoed in his head at that thought. Garrett became aware of it then. The darkness was no longer on the outside, it was within him, examining him...

No, it was examining his memories!

Garrett swallowed convulsively when it brought forth the memories of his family. Family he only got to see a couple of months out of the year. But it quickly discarded those memories, becoming more interested in his tower training, especially those times that he was training with a master mage or the sword-sworn, who taught all the mages to use their staff's in self defense. Only, Garrett had been interested in more than the staff, he'd picked up a sword as well.

Mostly, he'd picked up a sword because the sword sworn didn't judge him like the mages had. He never saw pity in their eyes when he trained with them. Not like he did with Jarred, or other mages.

The only mage who had never pitied him was Winslow. Winslow had hated him.

The thought of Winslow gloating when Garrett had almost killed himself pissed Garrett off.

The violent raping of Garrett's mind continued, even as this thing became aware of Garrett's anger. Garrett collapsed, felt his cheek press against the cool surface of a stone floor. That cool contact with the floor helped; cooled the sweat drenching his face. Garrett groaned slightly, gathered his physical strength, pushed himself back up to his knees. He wobbled to his feet, attempting to gather the magic he had just used mere moments ago to force this thing out of his head and away from his memories when it suddenly stopped examining them.

Stopped examining them on the day of Garrett's last testing. Pain lanced Garrett's chest. He was going to kill...

The voice stopped laughing then, responded to his emotions.

You cannot slay that which is already dead. Yet I find myself with a dilemma.

The memories began playing in his head again. Garrett cringed with sudden pain as his wounds felt like they were bleeding fire...A distant thought made him wonder if the blisters were popping.

He collapsed, writhed around until he found his cheek resting against the stone floor, once more.

So very interesting you are. You have a lot of power, yet your control is rough, to the point that you have almost no control. You defend yourself and fight back on pure instinct. That instinct is good, better, I think, than that of most whom are actually trained on the power. Yet you hate those whom, until recently, had more power than you do. You once had heart, though...

Garrett closed his eyes, surprised with the sudden smooth gentleness in this things voice. He wanted to go to sleep. He definitely didn't feel like going on this grand adventure that that...other thing... had put him on.

...and yet you have no interest in things anymore. I'd say you're resigned to something. Perhaps death, I think? You wanted strength once, the power that the others around you had. A Das-Ganei, even if they are a corrupt form of the truth. All these things, something you once wanted, almost within your grasp. Yet now you would give up. Youth!

Garrett flinched at the last word that was filled with anger.

Do you give up then, Saxoph-Lon?

Garrett groaned. Numbness swept over him. His heart sped up a moment, then began to beat...

....

Beat.....

....

... ...

Beat...

....

... ...

... ... ...

I can give you a painless death, if that is your wish. Perhaps it would be best. You're not prepared for the things that must be done. For the things to come. Not yet.

The voice was dim now. Barely registered in Garrett's mind.

But its offer did register. Garrett found himself digging deep for any last vestiges of strength that he might have within then. Couldn't find any, and dug harder, until at last, there, a mere glimmer. He didn't have the energy to grasp it firmly, coaxed it forward instead until...

NO! He shouted with his mind. Magic surged forward, boiled over. His heart sped up.

Grunts of pain and terrified squeaks filled his ears along with soft thuds hitting the ground. Were the others dead?

No. They live, they shall be dealt with, but not by me. That will be your task, if you are to live. Be certain of your choice, Garrett Saxoph-Lon. For if you live, you must do so with honor. If you choose to live, these others shall live with you. There honor rests with yours. Will you live, with honor? Yay or Nay, Saxoph-Lon? Choose!

I'll live with honor, I swear it. Garrett replied. Fire suddenly sprung up, smashed into him, burned him. Garrett screamed. At least, he started too, until he realized that he wasn't actually burning.

Courage, Garrett. The Ganath of House Andegeth have need, of you and these others. The balance must be maintained. Be forewarned, though, these are just the first of many. You will guide them, you will lead them, and once you do, the others shall fall...nay, I speak too much, too soon. The balance must be maintained. I accept your oath. Now sleep! For when you awaken, you shall have a few other tasks to do, and while you sleep, I shall teach you control.

Despite the haze taking over Garrett's mind, he was still aware of the sudden swirl of flames that surrounded him. He managed to keep his eyes open long enough to see that he wasn't the only one surrounded by it. The others were surrounded as well; looks of horror and pain still visible despite the sleep that they seemed to be in. The only reason he could tell that they were sleeping was because he could see the rise and fall of their chests.

He took the advice given him, then. Decided that ultimately it just didn't matter if they were all being swept off to their death; he was just too damn tired to care right now. And, if death was coming for him, he'd kick its ass all the way to the dead Emperor's doorstep.

All things considered, that's a rather funny saying, I think. But no worries. Time has no meaning for you. But remember, Garrett Saxoph-Lon, Death may still have a hold over your body. The balance must be maintained. Now sleep.

The flames died down. A different, softer darkness surrounded them then, even as Garrett dropped off to sleep.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

"The day of choosing is upon us. Be welcome into the House of Andegeth, Saxoph-Lon!" The words were spoken by a tall, well built man. His armor was a shiny black that had a silver sheen to it when caught just right by the sun. A black dragon in flight covered the front of the man's tabard, matching the various dragons embossed into various parts of his armor. He bowed in response to the formal greetings from the Ganath-Khein; even though he felt the whole ritual was completely unnecessary, considering the man was his father. But his mother had insisted and rather then cause a fuss at home, they had decided to give in to her whims. It was easier to keep the peace that way. Apparently the Ganath-Khein felt the same way he did, for his father, Dragon-Lord of The House of Andegeth cast him a wink while personally walking his group through the palatial grounds.

He suspected the man was leading them through the tour because he was in this group. A second guide appeared, taking over his father's spiel. The Ganath-Khein nodded his thanks to the man and dropped back until he was walking next to him.

"Well Garl, the day of choosing is upon us. You know, you don't have to choose our House if you think its temperament would not suit you," the Andegeth Ganath-Khein remarked.

"Don't be ridiculous father, of course I'm joining Andegeth's Soldiers," Garl remarked. Mostly, he was choosing the House because he felt entirely too lazy to join another House. Besides, he couldn't stand the majority of the Noble children his age.

His father clapped him heartily on the back, making him wince from the solid blow. "Well said, son. Just remember we stand on formality here," the man remarked. "At least, we do in public."

"Yes, Andegeth," Garl replied with a touch of sarcasm. His father; commonly referred to by his House name, Andegeth, just laughed at him.

"Well then, lad. Shall we continue this tour or would you rather skip it?"

It was a considerate question, considering the heat beating down on them from the midday's summer sun.

"It is a bit hot," Garl admitted quietly. It wouldn't do for the others to hear him whining about the heat. Especially since they already considered him a pompous brat; what with being the son of Andegeth Ganath-Khein.

"Going to get hotter, lad," the Andegeth remarked gently.

Garl winked at his father; gestured with a hand and pulled with his power. A gentle breeze answered his call and began to blow gently, cooling him off a bit.

"You're cheating lad. You know the rules, no magic until all the formalities have been observed."

Garl bit back a groan of protest. He was getting ready to release the spell when his father's hand gently gripped his bicep and pulled him to a stop, turning him until they were facing each other. He watched his father's pale blue eyes turn black and glow with a gentle silver light. It was one effect of magic being bonded with the dragon's had, the coloring of one's eyes. The fact that the inner light within the black glow was silver just showed how closely tied to the dragons his father truly was.

His father took on the stance Garl and many others frequently called his ‘training stance'. "Take a look, Garl. Not a bad job you did."

Garl did as was requested of him; felt his own eyes changing color as he shifted through spectrum between the normal world and his khras, watching as colors became more vivid. He took a close look and examined the lawn, shifting his gaze steadily through-out the area. Parts of it were a vivid pale blue in color with portions of dark blue imprinted on it. A sign that air magic was being used and would last a good while.

"Not bad at all. You've been trained well."

Garl swallowed at the insinuation. It was illegal within the Dragon's Empire to be trained in the arts of the Elements without having one's Ganath first, though most often overlooked the rule when it came to their own children. Andegeth hadn't though. He insisted on obeying the laws of the Empire. Kept the peace better, he frequently said.

"Sheer instinct, father," Garl bluffed. Attempted too, anyways.

"Right. Tell that doting sister of yours that she's done a good job, eh boy?"

Garl blinked, attempted to arrange his facial features in an "I have no idea what you're talking about" expression.

It didn't work. "Right lad, if you insist then. I'll see you tonight at the ceremony?"

Garl nodded. "Of course, father."

"Be well then, my son." His father didn't even gesture; just turned pale blue before Garl's eyes as he lifted into the air and, with a sudden command of magic that left Garl staring in admiration, stole command of the wind from his son and flew away, disappearing quickly from his sight. He couldn't wait to learn to do that.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

The evening had been a disaster. No ganath had chosen him. He had shamed his father, which was perhaps why he was currently hidden from sight within the Andegeth Palace and drinking alone, at least, he thought he was alone.

"Ah Garl, my boy," his father's voice intruded softly upon his thoughts. Garl looked up from the fluted glass with its ruby colored wine, stood and bowed as gracefully as his drunkenness would allow, teetered on his feet and almost fell over. His father caught him, helped him sit back down on his bed.

"You know there is no shame in being Andegeth Tau-Val," his father remarked gently. Andegeth Tau-Val. Dragon Soldier of Andegeth. But more importantly, he wasn't Saxoph-Lon, unclaimed Soldier. His oath of honor had been accepted. He would pound the ground with the Infantry, perhaps even make his way up the rank and join the cavalry; gain his own command.

The thought was disappointing to him. He swallowed the contents of the glass, hard.

"Easy m'lad. Many a fair man joined the infantry first, worked their way into the cavalry and gained agreement with a ganath. Do not dishonor those men."

Garl swallowed hard at the rebuke within his father's words.

"Sorry father, but Argeth..."

His father patted him on the back and gently removed the glass from his son. A moment later he was standing and guiding Garl onto his back on the bed. The actions were so similar to when Garl was a child that he didn't even in blink in outrage when his father threw a blanket over him, tucked him in like he was still six and not sixteen.

"Argeth is a freak of nature. Just don't tell your brother I said that. Go to sleep Garl. We rise early in the morning. The servants are packing up the house. We'll be heading back north to the summer grounds. It's getting to be too hot here, and we have summer training."

Garl nodded his head slightly; struggled to keep his eyes open against the alcohol's effect. He felt his father kiss his forehead, found the strength to open his eyes. His father was still standing over him. A silver disc with a black dragon carved of obsidian inset in the center hung in mid air, attached to a chain around his father's neck. He reached out and caught it, fingered the dragon gently. A habit from when he was a small child that had made him smile back then. It even made him smile now. He let go of it and dropped his hand back to the bed.

"In time my son but, not yet," he heard his father whisper. He drifted off to sleep at his father's touch on his head, pushing the hair away from his eyes.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Fear ran through him. His spine shivered in response. He needed to get past the mud, up the hill. People were dying. He gripped the sword in his hand tighter, struggled against the mud caking the steel greaves protecting his shins. He collapsed into the mud, grabbed at it through his gauntlets. He'd dig his way up the hill if he had too. The Empire needed him. His father needed him.

A shout from above had him rolling over, avoiding the sword thrust at his back. A clash of steel on steel. He rolled again, scrabbled against the mud. He needed to get up.

There! Something to hold on to. He grabbed it. Bit his tongue to hold back the scream he wanted to let out as he dropped the head that had been separated from someone's body. He plunged his gauntlet covered hands into the mud. Something needed to be done. Grasping at the power that felt like a knot within his stomach, he pulled at it, forced the power into heat. A mere second later that power flashed through his hands and into the blood-caked mud. Dried it in mere seconds. Feet scrambled around him and finally found purchase. He heard someone holler their thanks. Someone else told him to get up; keep moving or they'd flay his hide, son of the Andegeth or not...

They weren't supposed to know he was there. He wasn't supposed to be there.

He shook his head and berated himself for allowing his thoughts to become distracted. He yanked his hands out of the dirt and ran the rest of the way up the hill, ignoring the screams that were accompanied by the clash of steel on steel as the fighting continued.

He froze when he reached the top, horrified beyond disbelief by what he saw. His House was too late. The fields outside the city were piled three to four bodies high in places. He watched as a flash of fire shot from the Tower wall, tore through the horde that was screaming their way toward the outer walls.

If they took the walls; took Vrangen Tower, they would take the city next. He cast his eyes beyond the outer walls, past the Tower; saw the city shimmering in the distant heat. Troops were marching from the city itself toward the Tower walls, reinforcing the troops staving off the Horde.

He wished he was back in the city, safe with the women and other children; with his family. He was too young for this. That thought made him cringe in shame. Part of his family was out here too. He looked up as the midday sun became blocked out by a massive shadow that moved across the ground, joined by several others. A cheer tore from his lips as he spotted the dragons flying low overhead, talons gleaming in the sun.

Horns sounded, confirming his vision. The black ganath, Dragons of House Andegeth, were joining the battle. More horns sounded in the distance from the barbarian horde. He shifted his gaze to them, watched as they formed into organized ranks. Shields came out; followed by spears. The sight made him frown. Something was wrong, he just didn't know what. A horn sounded near him, followed by another and another. He dropped his sword and covered his ears, then promptly berated himself. He had just made a novice mistake. He leaned down; went to pick it up.

That novice mistake saved his life. A flash of heat brushed his back and heated up his armor through his clothes. He cringed with pain and dropped to his knees, thinking a sword had just run him through. It was far worse than a sword though. Screams rang in his ears as something exploded behind him. He whirled on his feet and landed on his ass, hopped back into a crouch a second later as he took in the sight of men and elves burning around him. Another fireball followed by another soared overhead on both sides of him, struck more men.

Bloody hell, someone was trying to kill them all! He didn't even know the barbarians could control elemental magic.

"Move your bloody arse lad, damn it!"a gruff voice shouted.

Hornbeck, the gruff dwarf in charge of the infantry unit he had joined at the last moment, slapped his helmet a moment later, knocking him onto his back as another fireball blasted overhead a second later. The dwarf had saved his life. "Fool idiot," he heard the dwarf roar. "And someone do something about those bloody mages they got down there!"

Right. Why weren't the dragons aiding them.

Garl turned and scrambled back up the hill that he hadn't been aware of falling down again, froze once more as he reached the top. At least this time he had the sense to drop to his belly so he could observe what was going on. The dragons were fighting. Just not on the ground. Wyvern's had appeared; were battling the dragons head to toe in an aerial battle that another fireball reminded him he couldn't afford to be distracted. He had time to see a wyvern lock its teeth around the neck of one of the dragons, hind legs that were hanging stiffly in the air a moment ago lowered and raked into the dragon's side; leaving huge gashes as those sharp claws tore into it. A second later it swung its barbed, poisonous tail to the side and rammed it into the rider's back, pinning the rider momentarily to the dragon's back. He heard the dragon's scream as the rider died, didn't even notice as a tear slid down his cheek.

There would be much mourning later for that rider. Perhaps even the dragon, if it didn't survive.

That was about all of the aerial battle that he saw. Another fireball tore through their ranks and reminded him that there were more pressing things to worry about; like staying alive.

He tore his eyes from the overhead battle and stared into the barbarian hoarde below him, looking for a sign of anything else that might be different. There, almost directly in front of him was the center mass of the hoarde, guarded closely by trolls, orcs, ogres and goblins. The flutter of red cloaks further aided him in identifying the source of the fireballs. To his dismay, he found that it was more than one source. They also seemed hell bent on keeping back the infantry coming at them from the side, because the hoarde guarding them moved aside just in time for the red-cloaks to bombard the hillside. The red-cloaks weren't that coordinated though.

They were all aiming at Hornbeck's position.

Who was right next to him!

Garl reacted as his training had taught him. Most mages needed a source for their elemental spells. Some few were powerful enough to use the sources found within various aspects of the world. Garl was one of those mages who couldn't do that, at least as far as he knew. But he was extremely desperate. He called upon the power deep within his belly and pulled with as much mental might as he could, asking the Dragon he had yet to claim for whatever aid he could get as his power responded to his will. Part of the area in front of them began to shimmer and then stretched. The moisture within the air solidified into water and froze, sections behind and to the side did the same thing over and over again until the wall thickened and continued to thicken.

The wall of ice was built just in time as the fireballs blasted into it. A crack formed within the wall, melted and refroze as Garl pumped energy into it.

"Bloody hell, lad, good timing!" Hornbeck shouted his approval, thumping him on the back.

Garl didn't respond. Several more fireballs smashed into the wall. He couldn't keep it up and with dismay watched as it shattered. He kicked energy into heat and the air, used the heat to melt the ice quickly; the wind reshaped the water into long streams, blew it toward the fire mages. He refroze the water, watched as the spears of dagger and ice gutted barbarians, goblins, orcs, ogres and trolls with no discrimination.

"Follow it up lad!" Hornbeck shouted.

Garl didn't think. He just followed his orders and his own instincts. He hopped to his feet, used the sun as his source and sent a fireball following after his first attack. Followed it up with two more, four more, then eight, sixteen and thirty two more. Exhaustion made him dizzy, he swayed on his feet and dropped to a knee, watching as his fireballs tore through the ranks of the hoarde and decimated the mage ranks.

Horns blared through the air. Cheers sounded around him. He looked up and spotted more dragons flying in. They tore through the wyverns, descended on the barbarians and unleashed blasts of fire onto the hoarde.

Then Hornbeck was pulling him back and telling him to take a breather; he'd done a good job that day.

The battle was over and the dragons would clean up whatever was left alive on the field. The thought made him gag. He'd killed people that day. He turned and puked; ignored the shouts of Hornbeck's disgust and the amused, slightly hysterical laughter that followed from the Soldiers around him. When he was done throwing up he looked around, saw the proud looks on the faces of those around him as they all looked at him in turn, giving him smiles and winks. He'd gained friends that day.

He was finally proud. He was Garl Andegeth Tou-Val, Dragon Soldier of House Andegeth.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

She let out another scream, beyond angry as the darkness that she had followed Garrett into continued to defy her. Garrett had been so close. It was all her fault. She hadn't recognized the second tower for what it was. She was too young. She had messed up. Their only chance was gone. Another bellow escaped her as her ethereal form began to harden. She was losing what little control she had. But her control was more than that of the others. She'd been the only one available to pull this off, and she had failed.

Her tiny frame began to shimmer as it hardened, became larger until she was bulging the seams of the soft robe she wore. She was losing control.

Another scream escaped her mouth, deepened as she lost all control, became a bellow of pure rage.

Control yourself, daughter of my daughters! You do no honor to our clan with such an unimpressive display of anger! Now stop bellowing!

The feminine voice that echoed with such sheer power caught her completely off guard. She whirled on her hind feet, landed hard on her forefeet, jaws snapping down on the source of that voice.

A source that was so much smaller than her. A source that had the strength of mountains as it caught her large maw in its hands and, with a strength that belied her looks, kept her jaws pried apart, stopping them from clamping down on her head and ripping it off.

"What do you think you're doing? Trying to take off my head is not the answer; now watch those teeth of yours, young lady!"

The two hands pushed her maw back and let go. Her jaw with its rows and rows of sharp, vicious teeth snapped down on empty air. She growled, launched her giant head at that voice again, angry at her failure, ready to take it out on whoever was available.

She recoiled in surprise when a hand hit her across the maw hard enough to knock her on her tail.

"This won't do," that feminine voice remarked again. Then something was on her, crawling over her like she was a cat. A bare hand was touching her scales, hurting her. The darkness that was the world she currently inhabited exploded. A mind touched hers, steadied her as pain racked her body.

"If you are going to meddle in affairs that were being handled quite capably by people who know what they're doing, then I insist that you do it right. You're regular form will not do, Garrett just isn't ready yet and neither are you, for that matter. You have no skill, no abilities. You will not teach him, not very well. But perhaps you can learn..."

The world steadied, revealed her to be in a stone room. Lightning flashed outside, followed a moment later by thunder.

She sat up and went to get on her feet. The sight of fleshy hands made her gasp; more so because she could actually feel the stone beneath them.

Once she recovered from her surprise she scrambled to her feet and glanced about wildly, wanting to know where she was.

"We are in Vrangen Tower, sealed for some five thousand years in what is now Ganentide, The Mages primary seat of power in what they call Haventine," the feminine voice spoke up.

She looked around until she found the source of that voice. It was the Crazy woman from the other tower. Lady Demonte, the human mages had called her.

A lady, whom, she suspected, had more magic in her pinky finger then the Mages of Ganentide did together.

"You would be right on that count but... they don't really need to know that. Why are you here, and not with the others where you belong?" Lady Demonte asked acerbically.

She stiffened, wondering how much Lady Demonte knew.

"I know a lot of things, Daughter of my Daughters. Among some of those things is the fact that you can do things the others can't, not because they are incapable of such things, but because they sleep the eons away. Far better than hiding in shame," Lady Demonte stated, shooting her a wink and a sarcastic smile at the end of her last comment.

"I will not hide in shame, nor shall I sleep the eons away any more. Our House is dying. I am here for Garrett. Where is he?" she asked Lady Demonte.

"Your house is dying? I think it would be best if you said that your house was already dead, Lady..."

She swallowed; denied the truth inherent in Lady Demonte's words and ignored the obvious request for a name. She would not give it.

"No matter, then. What does matter is you are meddling in things you know nothing of. We are taking care of certain things for you."

"What do you mean?" she asked, curious at the disdain in this woman's voice.

"I mean... You would steal a boy and use his powers for your own means without giving him a choice, without telling him what he is getting into. That is not the way of your people and you should know better. But...youth can be stupid so I'll forgive you, this time. Next time I might not."

"Steal...use...I had no choice! His powers awakened..."

"Because you left the realms you all had been exiled too. You broke the bargain they struck. You have set into motion events that you know nothing of, young lady. Now you must go back, prepare the others."

She tried to find her tongue, shocked at the accusation inherent within this mad woman's voice. She couldn't find it. Stuttered and at the last finally found her voice.

"Prepare the others? Prepare them for what?"

"Prepare them for war, of course. Oh yes, the war with the God-King, halted all these eons, will continue, and it will be far worse than the last one."

She froze; disbelief crossed her, ordinarily, expressionless face; stunned at the news that the God-King, exiled at the end of the last war, was returning.

"I can't return without Garrett," she finally stated. She crossed her hands across her chest in what suddenly felt like a normal expression of stubbornness, then glanced around in confusion. Expressions were not something she was used too.

"You can't have him!" Lady Demonte snapped back in response. "He's not even here! He meets the past; learns of the future. He must-"

"But...What do you me..."

"No buts, either! He must make his own choices. He learns of those choices right now; he meets the past. Regardless of those choices, you have a war to prepare for. I tire of this conversation. You will go back, you will awaken the others. Once you get there you will find, within your mind, certain knowledge that you will need. You will teach it to the others, and you will stop meddling. You are a Ganath of House Andegeth. Be sure you act like one and learn your place in life, now..."

She opened her mouth, ready to snap a response back. She didn't get a chance too.

"...be gone!"

Lady Demonte raised her hands; spoke a word in a tongue that sounded like the crack of thunder. Lightning flashed in response. A hot wind swept through the sealed tower chamber, brought rain with it that scored her flesh with the hot water. The room swirled as the wind sent her swirling through a dark familiar void that cracked with thunder and lightning. A void that changed and kept changing. She closed her eyes and gave up. It was too late. She knew this void. It had taken her what seemed forever to cross its boundaries. A years' worth of a trip was wasted in mere moments as she was sent back to where she had come from.

She had thought she had lucked out, finding Garrett so soon after crossing over.

She was going back, alone. She sighed, resigned. She would have to report to the few who knew of her plans her failure.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

She was the most beautiful thing in the world. Her raven colored hair flowed in cascading curls down her back, high-lighting pale blue eyes that sparkled in the sun. The fact that her belly was bulging with their unborn child only made her more beautiful to him. She was Kyla, the most beautiful wife anyone could ask for; he was lucky to have her. After her younger brother; their child would be next in line to the Emperor's seat. At that thought though he prayed briefly, fervently, that The Dragon willing, nothing ever happened to the heir himself.

But that was a selfish thought. The Dragon knew what he was doing. He just hoped that he would have time with his child; that his child would never be as busy as Kyla's younger brother always appeared to be. But he had to go. Duty was calling him. He was twenty eight now, in charge of the infantry and cavalry. He needed to inspect the new ranks; the time of choosing was over and they would be leaving on the morrow for their more northern lands.

The time of choosing. He smiled. In 16 years and four months, his own child would be going through the Time of Choosing. The thought excited him. How he wished he could just make the child be born right now.

"Do you have to leave, Garl?" Kyla asked, pulling him from his thoughts. Her lips pushed out briefly, pouting. Oh how he hated that look on her face.

"Yes love. I have a duty. I'll be back shortly," he whispered, promising.

She smiled at him, but shook her head anyways. "You always say that. Don't make promises you can't keep m'love," she responded.

Garl leaned over, brushed his lips against hers. "Then I promise I'll be back this eve. I love you," he told her solemnly. He meant every word with all of his heart.

He set out the door, headed for the Andegeth Palace. Garl had every intention of being back with his lovely wife before the sun-dial showed noon. His plans didn't work out though. Between all the new recruits who had joined his father's House, the most honorable house within the Vrang Empire, and many of the old recruits and Soldier's who should have known better then to be out drinking the entire night before, his day turned into a nightmare. Especially when it was discovered that most of the feed for the horses had spoiled and several of the horses had hoof-rot. Feed had to be replaced and new horses secured to replace the ones that couldn't be saved.

To his frustration, Garl didn't get back to the Imperial palace until after the sun had set. He was just about ready to enter his chambers and change into more formal clothes so he could join his wife and her family when chaos erupted all over the place. A fireball erupted down the hall and nailed a Soldier standing at post full in the face; the explosion knocked Garl off his feet. He banged his head into the doorway. It knocked him unconscious, most likely saving his life. He came too briefly, felt someone touching his chest when another voice told whomever was touching him to leave the body, they had an Empire to take over. Anyone else left alive could be slain after the Imperial Family was slain. A kick to his face dazed him sent his head knocking back into the wall. His last brief thought for a moment was that his nose was broken before his wife entered his mind, pleading for help. He couldn't help her though. Darkness took him with another blow to his head.

He woke up to people screaming. The sound of steel clashing against steel was ringing everywhere within the palace. Another plea from his wife for help reached him. He struggled to his feet, tore into the doorway that led into their apartments and grabbed his sword from the wall. He didn't even use the door to get back out again, just gathered his power and smashed through the wall like it didn't exist. Right into the backside of a barbarian ransacking his bedroom. Garl swung his sword in one fair stroke; removing the barbarians head with it. Then he sprinted through another wall and into the upper levels of the grand foyer of the Imperial Palace; stopping long enough to aid a few other guards embattled toe to toe with...

Trolls! Here, in the Imperial Palace? The thought was unthinkable to him. It angered him. He heated up the blade of his sword, sent it through a troll's scrawny neck, cauterizing its wounds sealed. He fought like a possessed demon, barely able to see from the dark tint that filmed over his eyes. He was barely aware of that brief battle ending; of taking charge of the Imperial Troops. He needed to get to his wife and her family. But they would be safe; his family was with them in the grand ballroom.

When he looked he found that the the main foyer was packed toe to toe with guards, barbarians, trolls and orcs. He would have never gotten through there, and he certainly couldn't aid them with his magic. To do so would have killed everyone on both sides of the fight. He was only willing to do that if he had no choice in the matter. The men and women of the House's were not expendable. A scream from within the grand ballroom made him change his mind. He blasted the grand foyer with a fireball and leapt over the side, swung his blade at anything moving that looked like it wasn't on his side and sprinted through a door that was half open; right into the biggest messy battlefield in his life.

Most of the guards were dead. The Imperial family was barely hanging on at the far end of the hall. His own mother and father were embroiled in the fight. They stood in line with what guards were left standing, fending off twenty to thirty armed barbarians. Garl didn't think about it. His wife was in danger; being guarded by her parents. She herself guarded her younger brother, a long-sword grasped tightly between both hands, fending off blow after blow from the few barbarians who were managing to make it through.

Garl didn't complete his charge into the rear of the barbarian lines. Something else stopped him in his tracks.

House Andegeth troops. At least, that's what they appeared to be. At their lead was a familiar face that, a moment later, he no longer recognized. It turned on him, winked, then a hand was raised and before he could think to take a breath and scream a warning, a flash of fire tore through the barbarian horde and engulfed his parents, the Emperor and his wife. The Andegeth troops turned on him; he found himself fighting for his life with the Imperial Troops that he'd brought with him, whirling and turning where he stood, meeting blade with blade. A sweep of his blade through one Andegeth tore off the man's hand, sent the man's blade spiraling through the air. He caught it with both hands, whirled and spun, desperate to get to his wife and her brother.

He could see the blood staining her blouse as she fought like a dragoness, desperate to protect her brother; desperate to... he swallowed. She was no longer his wife, she was the bodyguard to the, as yet, uncrowned Emperor.

An uncrowned Emperor who wasn't doing anything. He just stood there.

Garl didn't understand; why had members of his House turned on the Empire. What could possibly be gained by such a move?

He tore through the last of the Andegeth troop he faced just as his wife struck down her opponent. Aside from his harsh breathing, silence seemed to reign within the ballroom.

"Kyla," he gasped. Relieved that she was still alive. Horrified that his own family; her parents, were dead.

"Garl," she whispered. Her voice was beautiful, strong even in its softness.

That man wearing a face that was so familiar yet unfamiliar to him descended from the skies of the ballroom and struck a clean blow right through her neck. He would have killed the uncrowned Emperor with his next move but the flat of his blade caught the young man against the side; the blow knocked him across the room.

Garl leapt into the air; grasped his power and flung himself across his room; right into the armored man's chest. The armored man was wearing the ceremonial hooding and mask of Andegeth Ganath-Khein. The man twisted and turned aside from the blade Garl meant to skewer him with; he grunted as Garl crashed into his midsection with a shoulder. They both crashed into the wall. Garl pulled back. He was going to skewer this traitor, whomever he was. A roar from outside the palace echoed his emotions; distracted him.

A blow landed hard against his chest; another to his stomach knocked him off the man. Garl didn't feel the pain as hel was hurled through the air; landed on his back. The man started laughing. A bone chilling deep; familiar laugh that had no hint of sanity to it. A laugh that belonged to a man who should have been dead ages ago in his first battle; a man that he had seen pierced through the back by a wyvern's tail with his own eyes.

"It is done; House Andegeth belongs to me and so does the Empire," the man's voice was loud, harsh; it filled Garl with pain, burned his ears. How he had mourned over that voice over the years.

Garl couldn't move. Didn't understand why until he realized a blade was sticking out of his stomach. It didn't hurt; not as much as watching his own wife and child slain before his eyes had hurt. He was dying. The man was moving onto the raised balcony; kneeling over his father. Garl watched as the man pulled Andegeth's Seal from his father's neck. He swallowed against the harsh pain in his throat; angry over his inability to do anything. The empire was dying before his very eyes.

The agony was too much for him. Felt the world explode around him in torrential fire-storm that destroyed most everything in the room. His heart was roaring in his ears; a dragon's roar echoed it.

"Andegeth is yours? You want it after having cast dishonor upon your House? I will kill you, on my dead wife's body and in the name of my unborn son!" Garl screamed; letting his pain out. He didn't realize it when he got to his feet; didn't feel the fire tearing into his body. The world was growing dim to his eyes; he was barely aware of it when he pulled the blade from his body and spun into the air; hurled into the man and tore Andegeth's Seal from the man's limbless hand. He grasped the Seal to his stomach; felt the cold amulet against his bleeding stomach. His armor had been torn and shredded.

His blood touched the Amulet. Outside a chorus of dragons' bugled their anger in harmony. Strength poured into him.

"I stand witness," A youthful voice answered his sworn words of vengeance. A sword swung at the man's head. The man moved. But the sword still struck a blow; tore the ceremonial hood and mask of House Andegeth from the man's head.

It was a blow to Garl's soul and heart; almost as bad as seeing his wife die before his eyes.

The man whirled and grabbed a hold of the uncrowned Emperor, spun again and threw the young man into Garl's.

The great doors of the Emperor's court flew open. Walls cracked and broke open as the other House's broke through to the courtroom.

"Why-" Garl started to ask.

"You will stand witness, an uncrowned Emperor? Oh how rich! Then stand witness! All of you!" The man interrupted.

"I am the God-King! I shall tear this Empire apart. The world you have ruled for so long shall be mine, and you all shall die! Only the strong shall rule!"

Flames roared up around the man then died. Dragons still roared their anger outside then abruptly died.

Garl looked away from where the man had stood, found his young brother-n-law staring at him. He couldn't find any words to say to the young. Spoke the only thing that came to mind.

"Andegeth is mine. I will kill him, I swear it," Garl swore fervently. His eyes were growing heavy. He could barely keep them open. "I swear it on my honor; on my dead wife... On my dead son-Garrett... I will kill him!"

The uncrowned Emperor looked at him. A flicker of emotion crossed his eyes, then all trace of emotion was wiped away.

"You would have Andegeth, then? You have no Honor. Your House has no honor. Honor has been lost, yet you swear it anyways. All for revenge? So be it; I name you Garl Andegeth; Ganath-Khein of House Andegeth; Dragon Lord of House Andegeth. Go to war then; just get the hell out of my House!" The uncrowned Emperor, his first words the act of stripping a House of their honor, turned away; angry, upset and hurting.

Garl laughed bitterly. His laugh stopped the young man, had him turning in his tracks to look at him.

"I am no Ganath-Khein. You name me wrong. I am just the Khein of House Andegeth," Garl announced.

The youngster looked at him, raised an eyebrow. A voice invaded his mind, invaded all their minds; he could tell from the looks of surprise that crossed their faces.

:He names you rightly, Ande-Gol; Rider of Mine. Come back to us. You are dying. It is not yet your time. We have much to do. We must-."

"Go to war," Garl announced. Heard and felt the power being used. The whole city heard his announcement. "The traitor's name will not be tolerated within my presence. I will slay any who use it. He has shed much blood this day. I..."

"Then go forth, Andegeth. I name you Ganei of Vrang-Ganath. Warlord, The Sword of the Emperor. Become the Blood Lord, if that is your will. I do not care! But pretty words get nothing done! Now. Get. Out!"

Garl looked past the uncrowned Emperor; spoke to nothing that was there. "I accept," Garl whispered in challenge. He stared the young man in the eyes and asked a final question, "Do you?"