The Prophesy: Book 3 - The Hammer of Atlantis

 

The officers dully noted the request, and by the time lunch was over, all were waiting in line to talk to Harold. They did not know who he was, but the respect he got from the others and the aura of authority that flowed effortlessly from the man helped a long way in getting the Decurions' undivided attention as he walked to the tent beside a woman that wore the markings of a Legionnaire and a Queen, followed by an impressive retinue of officers of both sexes. They all saw the young nude boy walk in the snow that had fallen during the day, steam escaping between his toes, and the dreaded white mass retreating in fear from him. He carried a bow across his shoulder with a double set of arrows in quivers, a short sword on both his hips, a set of knives dangling from the same belt, a walking stick with steel tips clearly indicating its real use as a stave. The sheer amount of weaponry on the child told them this was no ordinary boy.

As if to clearly show how important the boy was, the presence of a series of concentric defences around him took them by surprise. There was that boy that had addressed them before they found themselves incorporated into this huge army, accompanied five others, including a dwarf who certainly seemed to know how to handle that axe, a gold boy whose strange multi-faceted ruby eyes was unnerving, another pair that looked like brothers and seemed ready to kill anyone with a single blow, and a third that looked like he was determining the quality of their clothing to find its weaknesses. The second row of protection was a group of huge dogs, but the third was composed of wolves, and not tiny pups. The outer defences were made of a Unicorn, a Centaur, a Warhorse, a Zebra, and, oh Mother Earth, a live, fire-breathing Green Dragon in all its glory, right beside which stood a Troll handling a mace that shook the Earth as it hit it with a walking cadence! Everyone walked in step following the mace's slow drumming pace. The Decurions felt the Earth shake under their feet each time the mace hit, and they noticed the snow jump and vibrate with each shock.

The tent's flaps were opened by two Legionnaires as the couple approached, and those closer to the entrance had their first peek inside. The tent, which had appeared diminutive from the outside, revealed an inside that rivalled the size of the Imperial Ballroom, for those of these men that had been lucky enough to see it while on duty at the Imperial Palace.

The couple walked in followed by the boy and his protection detail. The guards invited the officers in, and then closed the flaps. Under the astounded eyes of the officers, wolves, dogs, the dragon, and a horse then shifted shape to take the appearance of humans. A table appeared to sit everyone, along with comfortable chairs, while those Equines that had not shifted took position around the table, still standing.

"In order to ease communication problems between you and the allies of Atlantis, it was deemed courteous to shift shape for the royals and their close counsel. Unfortunately, not all have yet mastered this, so they have kept their shape, or, in the case of the Dwarf and Troll, they need not shift shape to be understood," said Harold. "I have exposed our need for fresh and up-to-date information on Riverside. I lived ten years in Riverside, but it has been almost five years since I left. We will ask pointed questions, and do not be surprised if we know of things you do not. We will not lay blame on you for your ignorance of some facts. Is that understood?"

The eldest Decurion, by consent of his peers, had taken the role of spokesperson, and acknowledged Harold's question.

"Yes we understand. However, we would like to be able to address each individual with the proper title and get a better understanding of who we are dealing with when we answer."

"I understand, Decurion. Would you introduce your fellow Decurions from your left to your right, finishing with yourself first?"

The man, that looked to be in his early twenties, introduced all six of his fellow Decurions by name, finishing with himself.

"My name is Viola, sir."

Harp and Sitar looked at each other in shock.

"Dad! May I ask a few questions?"

"Certainly son."

"Decurion Viola, when were you picked away from you family by the so-called diviner?"

"I was twelve, and he also picked up my other brothers and sisters, dispersing us along the Eastern coast. I was enrolled in the Legion right away, after I tried to stab the diviner for raping the youngest of my sisters, Violin! I did not catch him with Piano, but I guess she underwent the same treatment."

"Have you seen any of your five siblings since?"

"No, but how do you know we were five? I did not say so!"

Harp looked at his dad, asking for permission, which was given with a gentle nod.

"I am Harp, I was a baby fresh out of mother's womb when they took you from mother's care. Sitting to my right is Sitar, your other brother. I am now nine, and Sitar is twelve. We will find the others. I do not remember who the others are and neither does Sitar. We need names, Viola. It would help us in our search."

"Mother seemed to have favoured string instruments in her naming scheme," commented Sitar, eyes bursting with tears.

"Yes, but why didn't she tell you our names?"

"Mother was devastated and tried hard to never talk of you and the others, but we saw her cry at night."

"Where is she now?"

"She is dead, along with the others that were at the farm the day the orcs attacked. As you probably know, you had other younger siblings that were left behind by the diviner; all, except Harp and I, were killed, because we were out hunting the day the attack occurred. Dad had died the previous year due to an accident."

Face white with rage, the Decurion looked at his two brothers. "I will exert vengeance on the orcs if it is the last thing I do!"

"We understand that, we have killed thousands in the past years, and we expect to kill thousands more when they finally decide to attack the Elvin Kingdom of which we are the Liege Lords," replied Harp.

The revelations of Harp and Sitar's nobility created another shock wave amongst the Decurions. Who was their eldest Decurion? But his shocked look told them he was taken as much by surprise as they were.

"Since we are now there, let me introduce the assembly sitting with you," Harold said. There followed a continuous list of names and titles that left the Decurions in total disarray. There were more crowned heads around the table then gold in the Legions! Dukes, Princes, Kings, and Harold's title, Pharaoh, which they interpreted as meaning King of kings, took its toll on the poor Decurions, who felt woefully inadequate to deal with the assembly sitting with them.

"We wear heavy titles, even heavier responsibilities, but we are as alive as you are," declared Ian at some point, as he became aware of the state of mind of the Decurions. "I eat, sleep, piss, shit, and smell bad like anyone else! I am a boy, and I hate clean water as much as any other boy with some self-respect! I may be the heir to the Throne of Atlantis, but I'm as hairless as any four-year old down where it matters! My name's Ian, not Prince Ian or any other title."

Ian's sortie had the expected effect and the atmosphere relaxed considerably as everyone laughed holding his or her rib cage in pain.

"Let's get back to the reason for this meeting," said Harold, as the laughter slowly died down. "We are half a day off Riverside, if my memory serves me right. Do they send patrols out?"

"We were the patrol, Sire. Our mission was to last two weeks; we are not going to be missed for another week. The powers that be have decided to send patrols the size of a centurie after finding that smaller groups of say the size of decades were systematically massacred or vanished into thin air. The massacres were less unnerving to the duke then the disappearances. The king figured they were deserters and tried to hunt down their families to exert revenge. Something good came out of the diviners: he never was able to track down family as the diviners never kept records of who they took from which family. Nonetheless, the king, and by extension, his dukes and barons, took revenge on innocent bystanders; it became common practice to execute randomly ten civilians for each disappearance. The soldiers figured the only way to minimize this was to increase their numbers to substantially in each patrol and to minimise the number of sorties. Hence the centurie-sized patrols we have now."

"Has there been work on fortifications?" asked Sitar.

"No, in fact, things have degraded as members of the different guilds distanced themselves from those in power. They have steeped up their prices for any repair and refused to begin any construction without a front equal to fifty percent of the estimated cost."

"This is both good and bad: orcs won't take prisoners, be they members of royalty or of the guilds; on the other hand, weakened or badly maintained defences will help us progress across the kingdom," stated Enron.

"Has the watch been maintained?" asked Annabelle.

"Yes, but the boys that do it have been left to themselves, and I'm sure they wouldn't see an army until it woke them up with a kick in the butt! Discipline, as you have seen with your own eyes, is going on the wayside. My last training in a yard dates from six months ago. The duke did not like the noise!"

Harold's eyes rolled as he heard this, but he refrained from commenting. The clenching teeth of Harp and Sitar were comments enough!

"Have they built or maintained any weapons of war?"

"If you are referring to catapults, the last one was in such a bad condition it killed its handlers as the pieces of wood tore through the rotten ropes as they pulled it to do a training shot. As for bows and arrows, we had the best in the store; it had become common practice to raid the weapons store before a patrol for the best equipment. I still hear your Sergeant at arms laughing at our equipment, and no one protested: he was right on the dot, and we knew it. Even our shoes had holes! That kingdom is ripe for the picking, if you want my opinion. It's corrupt from the inside out."

Another Decurion took over. "The political situation is dire, divisions reign within the hierarchy, there are more private armies than legitimate ones, road robbers tax everyone and anyone, and the king himself is greedier then, err an orc, ...

"I knew you meant a Dwarf, Decurion. I know my people. For many, they would sell their children for money if they could get away with their head on their shoulders," intervened Thorsten.

"If you say so, your Majesty," replied the Decurion, uncomfortable.

"You seemed to know a lot about the politics of the kingdom, Decurion?" asked Paschal.

"Yes, I have been listening and keeping my mouth shut, contrary to some that have since been found along streets, gutted."

"What would happen when the Atlantean army shows its nose in the Kingdom?"

"Some would rally around the king, others would try to buy your favours, and others would duck, in the hope of reaping the fruits falling from the shaken tree. There would be negotiations between all parties, a lot of knives flying, a vast numbers of natural and not so natural accidents."

"In other words that means do not trust your own shadow," commented Enron. "The only thing this situation is good at is it leaves a lot of opportunities to rid the area of corrupt individuals without dirtying our own hands. We can trigger enough turmoil to make resistance futile."

"Son, you have become a consummate politician in these last years! I would not have been able to explain the situation in better terms!"

"You dumped that crown on me, dad, live with it! Anyway, this approach is long-range in time, and we do not have that opportunity. It's going to be blood and guts, kick their butts, let them the lemon suck!"

"Poetic at war, son?"

"No, realist. We have so little time, and here we are conquering a kingdom we have no use for!"

The Decurions did not understand the reference to a short time, but they restrained their curiosity. They would learn things in due time.

"Go rest, we have all the information we need on Riverside. The army moves at matins to close the gap. Harp, as we discussed earlier, you will lead the infiltration with the dragon riders and your mages. Drop into town an hour before sunrise. That will limit the chances of your unit getting detected before it has to act. Decurions, your unit will be in the rear of our army. The hyenas are our closing centuries and do not put up with laggards, so you will be feeling their breath up your butts if you slack down!"

"Viola, we will talk more after we have dispatched Riverside," said Harp. "Oh, do not worry about me, I've killed enough in these last years to really produce a river of blood. Being a mage has its perks! And I'll explain all that too, when we are done."

"That sounds like a blood bath in brewing, little brother. I have friends in the Legions. Please be reasonable."

***

The bugle resonated at matins, waking up those who had managed to sleep, mostly the Atlanteans, as the new recruits had been unable to close an eye in anticipation of an early wake-up call. Everyone had a quick breakfeast, and then the scouts took the lead to mark the road and trail the Centaurs and Equines would be taking to reach the river's bank. Immediately after the Centaurs and Cavalry left, the dwarfs riding wolves took their leave. Then the Atlantean Legions and Elves began their run to take their positions for the assault.

The new recruits, which stayed behind to watch the displacement of the Atlantean army, for the first time measured the power being put into motion to deal with the Eastern Kingdom.

"Well, men, the kingdom stands next to no chance to survive until winter sets in," commented Viola, whom had gained considerable status since his parentage with the Atlanteans had come to light.

"There are many obstacles to the capital, Decurion, most of which are due to the presence of the Atom God."

"I know, but something tells me they have ways to circumvent or at least detect its Breath of Death. Just look at how healthy these soldiers are. None shows even a trace of the Claws of the God. Most of us have suffered from its obsessive grip."

The children that had been teaching them the basics of military life Atlantean style had left with the core of the army, but the howl of a wolf brought back reality. They had better get moving! The legionnaires began following the lighted road, well aware of the presence of numerous red eyes around them, growls and furtive sounds of branches being brushed. Each sound was like a prod, and they kept moving, trying to keep as much distance as they could between them and the rear guards! Only the calm attitude of their packhorses kept them from running in panic.

Four hours later, they came to a rise that revealed the darkened water of the Hud¹⁶¹⁶ ("Hud: the Hudson River.") River as it turned resolutely south and east on its way to the ocean. Riverside lay on its protective island, dark and foreboding, its fortification barely discernable in the darkness. Below them, still visible, was a long column of soldiers and horses that were gradually disappearing in the forest cover.

"Get out of sight, idiots!" whispered one of the kids they knew. "There is a thicket of firs on the right side. Follow your horses, in line. Do not light a fire! You will get a jar of hot tea when you are in place, which will be replaced every thirty minutes. Piss in the thicket, since the trees need fertilizer. The horses will be around to cut the wind and keep you warm. The assault is in four hours or so. Sound carries far on water, especially on a windless and still night. If you need to cough, do it in your elbow! Keep talking to a minimum!"

They followed their orders without discussion, finding themselves in a small clearing encircled by firs, out of view of the town. As soon as they had arrived, they were ordered by another child to unpack only a roll-on carpet and to sit. Once this was done, smoking teapots appeared, along with cups.

"Sorry, no coffee. It can be smelled from quite a distance, and the wind is not favourable for us. I'm going back to my unit; I don't want to miss the fun for you losers! Stay quiet!"

The legionnaires looked at each other, wide-eyed, as the young girl vanished silently in the woods without even the crack of a branch underfoot. Had they not heard her give them orders in a no-nonsense tone, they would have taken her for a shadow within shadows. The men huddled together, watching the light of stars vanish and reappear as clouds moved overhead. Silence was total, and the legionnaires would have thought they were alone were it not for an occasional pair of red eyes appearing between the legs of their packhorses. Time stood still, only broken by the rise of one or other of the soldiers taking a walk to relieve his cramps or go pee. The Equines stayed totally immobile, shielding them from the meagre, but still cold wind. Far off, an occasional branch would crack while hitting another one, but nothing indicated thousands of men were waiting for the signal to pounce on Riverside.

An hour and a half before dawn, Harp passed silently overhead with his centurie, his passage marked by a series of darkening that told of the mass of a dragon cutting the starlight. The dragons rose above the first layer of cloud cover and used the clouds themselves to hide into, keeping a pattern that would give the impression of birds flying on a migratory route. Even the Decurions, who knew of their probable passage, were only aware of them by the sudden, if temporary chill their downdraft caused. For the simple legionnaire, the only reaction was to pull their cape tighter around their body and dunk their head in their shoulders.

***

The first traces of dawn appeared on the eastern horizon as first a narrow dark purple line showed; then the false dawn disappeared and the last deep darkness before the true dawn appeared, accompanied by the coldest hours of the day. The last wisp of wind failed, and the cloud cover became uniformly dark, hiding from view the second wave of dragons and the Pegasuses, which were circling above Riverside in successive layers. Fog was visible on the Hud, hiding the shores to the watchmen in Riverside, and preventing the opening of the doors at an early hour.

It was nearly tierce before the tocsin resonated in Riverside, indicating to the door guards it was safe to open the gates. The sound travelled far and wide, telling the invaders their time was drawing near, as first the doors were opened with slow and deliberate care, the work of the men on the pulleys visible from the forest canopy, currently occupied by Elvin watchmen. Then the drawbridge was lowered and came to rest with a resounding thud.

This had been the signal Harp had waited for. Immediately after the drawbridge resonated from its sudden meeting with the bridge arch, he gave the signal. The mages ported into the drawbridge room, melted the mechanism in place, disarmed and paralysed the soldiers before any could even realize what was up. Two groups did the same with the left and right door mechanisms that allowed for their displacement. Once the situation was under control, the mages ported to the southern door and repeated the process, in effect leaving the city open to invasion.

The last item on Harp's agenda was the tocsin. A quick port to the bell tower revealed a pair, a boy and a girl, enjoying each other way too much to realise an onlooker was present. Harp did not bother them, simply displacing the bell to the bottom of the river, thus silencing it for good. The bronze bell would be recovered at a later date, as it seemed to be of remarkable make. Once done, Harp returned to the northern door and, using Bata, gave the signal of the attack with a silent flash of light. He dampened the sounds coming from the outside so that by the time the cavalry would be heard, it would be too late to even yell an alarm, should someone consider such a thing.

***

Sitar and the cavalry emerged from the fog still gripping the lower parts of the river and the bridge like phantoms and entered the city just as the merchantmen were opening their shops. The speed of the advancing cavalry was such that it was at the door of the ducal palace even before the rumour of an invasion reached the guards. Unfortunately, the doors of the palace were closed, as the Duke did not trust the outer guards more than necessary.

The Legionnaires marched into town in perfect military order dispersing first along the main streets, then into the small ones. A few skirmishes occurred, which ended invariably in favour of the Elves, Dwarfs, or Atlanteans. Most that tried to resist quickly abandoned any idea of resistance after seeing the ferocious determination of even four-year old children in battle, the bloody canines of the wolves and dogs, or the reddish hoofs of the Equines dripping of blood and guts.

The battle well engaged, the outer walls taken, Harp led his mages against the Crocodile Priests. He did not take any gloves to destroy the hated place of worship. The moment the doors of the Temple came into view, Bata entered into play: A huge blast of pure energy blew the doors open, ripping them right off their hinges. Harp had no intention to bother exploring the Temple and its unending maze of tunnels.

"Tear everything out and dump the blocks in the river. I want it to be a rain of such density the crocodiles won't be able to escape by using their underwater exits!" he ordered, as huge swaths of the front wall suddenly dislocated into their components before raining on the river behind the temple.

The others did not need any more invitation and the hundred or so mages eagerly went to work. Rocks flew, accompanied by an occasional piece of Hunter or Crocodile Priest, guts dripping and dangling along the way, if not downright falling on the heads of the awed onlookers that happened to stand too close to the morbid train of destruction. It took an hour to destroy the temple, and about a thousand Crocodile Priests and five times that many Hunters were dispatched to feed the fish.

"That was the biggest temple of the Atom God I ever got rid of," exclaimed Harp.

"You did that before?" asked Mage Angostini, which had stayed close to his idol the whole time.

"Oh yes. Let's get back to work. Finish the destruction. This kind of temple has many layers. We have removed only the top two. We need to make sure we reach the deepest layer. We will know when we stop seeing more rat holes! Then I'll set this place to such a hot temperature the rock will melt, and you guys will break the dam at my signal. That ought to close the chapter on this Temple for good."

The mages resumed their work with ardour, keeping a constant eye for further layers. The temple revealed quite a number of layers, some huge rooms, and numerous mating and birthing chambers. In all, twenty-one layers, descending to a thousand two hundred feet, were discovered.

***

Harold had joined Sitar at the ducal palace's entrance, and he looked at the door.

"Well, unused powers rust, son."

With that laconic comment, Harold took his Hammer out and threw it at the imposing door. The result far exceeded his expectations: the entire door exploded into wood splinters, and the Hammer, kept spinning until it hit a big piece of masonry which shattered like glass. Once its energy dissipated, the Hammer reappeared in Harold's right hand, ready for use once more.

"Shall we pull the duke out of bed, son?"

Sitar and his unit flowed into the ducal palace, dispatching any resistance with bloody efficiency, as Harold walked toward the duke's apartments. The man appeared on the landing to his apartment, holding a hostage by the hair and applying a knife to his neck.

"One more step and he dies!" thundered the duke.

These were his last words, as an arrow flew from Paschal's bow and lodged itself neatly in the man's forehead, killing him instantly.

"Nice shot, Paschal."

"It's nothing, Sitar. Continue the cleanup while I see to the hostage's condition."

As the palace cleanup continued, occasional pockets of resistance were crushed without mercy. The discovery of the palace's dungeons and prisons brought their own set of problems as prisoners in different state of mistreatments were dispatched to Thebes for treatment in stasis chambers. All the guards found in these areas were killed without exception.

Summary interrogation of those guards that survived the taking of the palace revealed the prison guards were recycled criminal elements hired for their savagery. Most other guards had professed fealty to the duke out of ambition or fear; the first ones were dispatched to an eternal torment, while the others were summarily disarmed and dismissed of services. They were told they would be contacted at a later date if their new profession was more adequate than terrorizing their fellow citizens.

As the last guard left the grounds, a terrible explosion occurred where once stood the Temple. The river had been let in the white-hot hole Harp had created; the ground shook violently, many badly affixed ornaments fell in the street, homes or even the palace.

«One Temple disintegrated!» resounded across the telepathic field, with a smirk typical of Harp's attitude toward raw power.

***

Enron had taken control of the market and the trading district with ruthless efficiency. The few orders or guilds that refused him access found their front door reduced to pieces of wood and twisted metal faster than their grand masters could blink. He repeated the same message to all:

"Report at sext to the ducal palace if you want to keep your credentials!"

The sudden explosion of the Temple drove home the nail; these people meant business.

One group of people were not called to the palace: the diviners! As soon as Enron heard who they were, he remembered the horror stories of Harp and Sitar, and now Viola. He called in Harp, which had completed his primary part in the invasion, to deal with these unscrupulous individuals.

Upon hearing of Enron's discovery, Harp borrowed Mitsuko from Paschal and made his way to the imposing building where the diviners were lodged. Upon entering the building's main hall, he spotted the one face he hated the most, the diviner that had taken his siblings away, an image that had imprinted itself in his memory as Viola retold of his experience with the man.

"Do you remember Violin?" he asked, cold as ice.

"No, should I?" replied the now grand master of the diviners.

"Do you remember Viola?" asked Harp, still colder than arctic ice.

"No, should I?" snorted the man derisively.

"Do you remember being stabbed?"

"Yes, he was a little pest. I got rid of him as soon as I could, and since he liked knives, I figured he would do a fine butt hole for the army!"

"The name of the boy was Viola, jerk. The name of the girl he tried to protect from your rape was his sister, Violin! Do you remember what happened to the other three siblings you took that day?"

"Oh, she was a tight hole! Now I remember. I sold her to a whorehouse along with her sister, after enjoying both for a full year. They knew how to satisfy men by then, and I earned a considerable amount of money for my training efforts!"

"What about the others?" Harp asked. He bit his tongue, drawing blood, not to holler his rage and pain.

"Let's see, there was a demand in forestry and mines at the time. I think I sold both boys to loggers' camps deep south to become loggers and maybe, if they survived, lumberjacks. I did not want to get into the hills, as there was a recrudescence of orc activity at the time. I am not that stupid."

That remains to be seen, thought Enron as Harp continued his interrogation.

"Do you know where the girls are?"

"When I sold them, the highest demand, therefore the highest prices, were to be had in the capital of the kingdom, Washton¹⁷¹⁷ ("Washton: Washinton D.C."). As for the boys, they probably would still be with the lumber gangs, probably somewhere near the great shipwright place along the coast, something called, let me see, Ginia Beach. I made quite sure the same lumber gang did not buy both, so they would not help each other escape! The girls did not pose any risk of escape, since the whorehouses are locked and no one can escape!"

"What happens in case of fire?"

"They burn."

The coldness of the answer made Enron shake violently on his feet. He wondered how hot-tempered Harp managed to maintain his composure.

"Do you know the names of the whorehouse?"

"If they have not been resold, something called Pink Pleasures, or like that. For the lumber gangs, they are known by the nickname of their master, generally not something nice, like The Axe man, or Bummer Jack... Since there is a high rotation at the leadership of these gangs due to infighting and err, accidents, the names change frequently."

"Ok, I don't think I can get any more information out of you, right?"

"Well, I could always find you a little bitch?"

The red face Harp and Enron made was mistaken for shyness.

"How cute, two virgin asses!" commented the diviner.

Harp did not pick up on the insinuation, even as one of the onlookers grabbed his breeches provocatively.

"So you are diviners?" he said sweetly. Enron immediately picked up on the change of tone, and tightened the grip on his sword.

"Well yes, I can tell the future!"

"Can you tell your own future in the short term?"

"I'll get richer by selling you two, that's what!"

"How wrong, diviner! I can tell you and your gang of child molesters your future, with one hundred percent accuracy! Do you want to hear it before facing it?"

The thirty men laughed at the boys, doing catcalls and whistling insultingly at the boys, who remained, in appearance only, totally composed.

"I'd like to hear an amateur tell me the time of day!" exploded the Great Grand Master laughing hysterically as he eyed Harp and Enron.

"Fine. You will be dead in less then five minutes. That is what your future is. Your reign of terror has come to an end, and the day of reckoning has come for you and your gang of fraudulent creeps."

The men couldn't help but laugh even louder, holding their ribs in pain.

"That's the best joke I've heard in my lifetime!"

"It will be the last one!"

With that last comment Harp pulled Mitsuko out of its scabbard and began beheading and butchering the diviners, making sure to leave the Great Grand Master intact. Enron immediately understood Harp's intentions and he too focussed on the lower ranks, butchering everyone in sight, except the leader.

As the last man lost limbs and head, Harp turned to the diviner, who stood frozen in shock, white as a ghost.

"See, diviner, if you really had any divination power you would have known this was coming. You are a fraud, a child molester, a slaver, and your last breath has come!"

With a powerful swipe of Mitsuko, Harp cut the man at thigh level, and then he cut his arms off, before looking at the shocked but still breathing man.

"Die, bastard!" Harp said, as he took aim cutting the head off and sending it flying across the blood-soaked hall.

"Let's go to the palace, the meeting will be held shortly!" said Harp, as he turned to leave giving the dangling hall door a kick so vicious the hinges broke and the panel flew across the open square, at head level, forcing all the curious onlookers that had assembled at the onset of the butchery to take a dive for the dirty pavement.

"Get lost, idiots! The order of child molesters is no more!" he thundered, voice so loud masonry cracked around the enclosed space, windows broke, and a badly cemented gargoyle fell on the street from the opposing roof, exploding in a number of flying shards of rock.

Enron and his intervention team followed Harp, quieted by the fury of the Mage.

***

The meeting at the ducal castle began in pandemonium, as all the members of the guilds, orders and trade unions were riled by the cavalier method Enron had used to convene them. Finally, he walked in accompanied by Harp, and took stock of the situation.

"My lord, may I?" he whispered to Harold.

"Go ahead. Set their butts on fire!"

"Don't tempt me, dad!" said Harp, whose looks of fury had escaped the usually attentive king.

"I won't ask what happened, I value my hide!" said Sitar.

"When I'm done, brother, you will probably want to get mine for taking away your rightful vengeance."

Enron walked to the dais, slammed his fist hard across the thick mahogany table, breaking it lengthwise in half.

"Another word out of you bunch of bickering creeps, and there will be a need for elections in your respective orders!" he thundered.

Harp repaired the table with a simple gesture, clearly demonstrating his status as Mage to all that were present.

"We'll need it intact for Sitar to dig his claws in when I tell him what happened later," he explained to Enron.

"That bad, Harp?" asked Annabelle.

"That bad and worse."

Just then she noticed that Harp was leaving bloody footprints everywhere he went, and puddles of gore the moment he stood still. The dripping blood from Mitsuko completed the macabre show of raw rage Harp projected, and Enron didn't look any better. Something terrible must have happened for the boys to even walk into a meeting blade bared, and dirty with bits of bowels, bones and body parts. She signalled the situation to Harold, who had already noticed the white knuckles on both boys, their furious, almost deadly eyes as they looked at everyone, and the rigidity they both possessed, as if they were doing all they could not to explode.

The silence brought about by Enron's sortie gave the chance for Harold to take control of the meeting.

"The duke and his collection of crocks, cronies, and cutthroats have been disposed of. The presence of Prince Blood and Guts Harp amongst us tells me the Crocodile Priests, their Temple and their Hunters are no more." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Those still alive and held in the prisons have been moved to our hospital for treatment. The corpses have been moved to the morgue for identification. In due course, we will call for kin to identify them either from clothing, jewels, faces, or other signs such as birthmarks and tattoos. Every corpse is currently frozen and will no longer degrade. Teams of our best artists will try to reconstruct faces for those whose only remains are bones, and Prince Paschal will draw as close as possible portrait of the reconstructed face. By this means, we hope to bring closure to those of you that lost family members."

He took a sip of wine and then talked again.

"We will be moving everyone out of Riverside to a new location as soon as convenient. Orcs are roaming freely, and this city is a sitting target for them, especially given the state of the army, the defences, and the weapons. You will find in the new location members of your respective trades. Let me get this across right now. There is no competition between trades in my kingdom. We are on a war footing, and everyone, from birth until death is first and foremost a soldier. Trade yes, but trade to improve the military readiness, not for shortsighted profits. Orcs do not give a damn about how rich you are. All they want is to get to your guts so they can feed off them! You are chattel to them, nothing else."

After another sip of his wine, he remembered something. "Is Grand Master Antonius still at the head of the Ironsmith Chapter?"

"Yes, sir, but he has retired to his villa in the southern quarter of the city to rest for the week. He did not expect anything to happen until next spring."

"I know where that is. Sitar, get him. Show him the blade you carry, it will open his door more than any sesame would."

"Yes, dad!" Sitar left the assembly and using his dad's memory of the city, quickly moved along the wide streets, narrow avenues, and even narrower and winding lanes. A group of thugs tried to stop his progress but they never figured out how come they had suddenly lost one an arm, another a hand, a third six feet of bowels, and a fourth his head. He continued until he found himself in front of a wrought iron gate that opened into a well-kept garden. Clearly, the resident valued peace, beauty and quiet.

Sitar pulled on the rope that made a bell ring out of sight of the locked doorway. A young servant walked to the closed passage, taking sight to Sitar with his dripping blade. The page, weary, stood out of reach of the intimidating weapon, unaware that if Sitar had wanted to kill him he would have been dead even before having seen the visitor.

"Yes?" he asked with a voice he tried to firm, failing miserably.

"I am here to fetch Great Grand Master Antonius, by order of Pharaoh Horus, King of Kings!"

The youthfulness of the voice told the page this boy was not yet fully into puberty, but yet his posture told of unfathomable experience with a blade.

"I will fetch grandfather."

"Fine I will wait here," replied Sitar, ignoring the lack of courtesy demonstrated by the boy for leaving him waiting at the entrance, behind a locked gate, no less. Sitar figured his appearances were against him, but decided to see the grandfather before setting the picture straight.

Fifteen minutes later, an old man, using a walking stick, appeared at the gate, supported by his grandson.

"You say you are here to fetch me in the name of a man named Pharaoh Horus? I have no recollection of ever meeting that man."

"He said you might better remember this blade. I am sorry it is dirty, it has been put to use considerably today as we disposed of the duke and his thugs. Let me clean it up."

Sitar passed a hand on the blade, removing blood and guts as if he was wiping a stick of excess water. The subtle use of magic left the blade shiny, bright, and as clean as the day it had been made all those years ago. Then Sitar took Excalibur by the blade and extended the hilt across the grid.

The old man walked closer, and, with the help of his grandson, grabbed the weapon to examine it. After a few minutes, the man looked at Sitar, wondering how the boy had managed to lift that heavy blade with such ease while it took all his considerable if dwindling forces to even move it.

"Yes, I remember that blade, it was the work of a remarkable young man, that produced it for his Companionship. Where did you get it?"

"My dad gave it to me for you to examine. He said it would open your doors better than his name, which you could have forgotten."

"Your dad? He is not that old, unless my memory is failing!"

"I should have said my adoptive father. It is my mistake."

"Very well, young man. Because of this blade, I must trust you. I will prepare for the walk to the palace. Severus, open the gates for our guest. Then accompany me to my bedchamber to help me dress. See to it that he gets any drink he so chooses."

After the gates were opened, Antonius handled the blade back to Sitar, and was again amazed at the professional handling the young boy demonstrated just by how he put it back into its scabbard. That boy spelled Great Grand Weapons Master for miles around.

The old man and Severus left Sitar in a huge waiting room where a few servants brought fresh water, a jug of hot cider, and an assortment of cold cuts for the unexpected guest. They were all reverential, as Severus had made it abundantly clear the master of the house wanted the best of the best for the boy waiting in the hall. All the recommendations were superfluous, as the mere presence of the mithril armour, the impressive blade and the collection of apparent knives talked a lot louder then Severus could! Twenty minutes later, Antonius and Severus walked back into the hall.

"I hope we have not made you wait too long," Antonius said, as Severus helped him walk. The old man was wearing his ceremonial dress, with full regalia, and it was apparent he was finding the weight a bit much.

"No, it is fine. Let us go to the palace. It took me some time to get here, as I had no idea of the location of this villa. However, we will get to the Palace much faster. Please sit in that chair, Antonius. I do not want you to fall and break a hip during transport, especially on arrival!"

The old man wondered what the boy had in mind and expected a group of porters to appear at his door shortly. Severus was as dumbfounded as his granddad, but helped him sit comfortably in the chair while waiting for the events to unfold. As soon as both were steady, Antonius sitting and Severus holding the back of the chair, Sitar ported all to the palace.

Antonius blinked in surprise, dropping his walking stick; Severus almost fell down. Had it not been for the strong arm of Sitar grabbing him the young man would have landed on the floor. Sitar slowly ported the chair and its passenger to the table, while Harp created a chair for Severus.

"What happened?" asked a quivering Antonius.

"I ported you and your grandson. I did not tell you because you might have taken me for a nut case. I think that demonstrations talk louder than words."

Taking a look around the table, the old ironsmith noticed all the guilds were represented. Across the table were new figures, and a young man whose face seemed to remind him of someone. Then he remembered! It was the youngest Companion ever, the maker of the blade the boy standing beside him carried. But however hard he tried he could not remember his name.

The young man saw the effort at recognition from Antonius and took pity on his plight.

"You recognize me, don't you, but you can not put a name on my head? Let me help. I am Harold. You were on my jury for Companionship."

"Harold? Harold! Now I remember you! It has been so long!"

"Five years or somewhere around that value."

Although Antonius felt ill at ease, because he remembered he should have made a decision call to give the young man his Grand Master status rather than the classic first level Companion due to the unheard of quality of workmanship the blade demonstrated, he hoped the young man did not hold it against him. He tried to play it smoothly, hoping the past would stay forgotten.

"It is nice to see you again Harold. When will I meet that Pharaoh Horus that called me here?"

"It is I, Antonius, it is I. I am Harold, Pharaoh Horus, Thor for those of the north, Thorus, Great Grand Master of the Forge for the Dwarfs, to name a few things."

"A few things, he says!" muttered Severus as he looked around the table, noticing the Dwarf with a crown on his head. He tugged on his grandfather, bringing the dwarf to his attention. Then he spotted the crowned Elf, the strange looking golden boy also with some headdress, and the giant hairy man at the end of the table. Each time, he tugged his grandpa's sleeve, and pointed out the figures he saw, to ever widening eyes from the old man. At the other end of the table was a small, almost invisible face. This couldn't be, Severus decided, as he rubbed his eyes vigorously, shaking his head. He looked again, repeated the procedure three times, but the diminutive figure refused to disappear. Finally unable to hold himself anymore, he pulled his grandfather's sleeve one more time, and pointed him toward the other end of the table. Again Antonius followed the indications of his grandson, and he found himself face to face with another legend. He began to shake violently, gripping his grandson with all his might, making the boy wince in pain.

The actions of Severus had not gone unnoticed by Harold, and he decided to complete the introductions.

"What you do not know, Antonius, is that I am Atlantean. I was elected king of the Atlanteans some years ago, and then I met some of the last surviving members of my people way up north; the Ritual of Recognition recognized me as the legitimate heir to the Throne of Atlantis, and further identification revealed I was Pharaoh Horus, the last Pharaoh of Atlantis II. This sword, which I recreated by instinct, is one of the treasures of Atlantis, the fabled Excalibur. We have also found another fabled blade, the Blade of Light, Mitsuko, recovered from an Orc horde. I then was led by circumstances to recover the Hammer and Shield of Thor, two more artefacts of long lost Atlantis II. I must acknowledge the long perseverance of the Dwarfs in preserving these impediments of power, which today opened the castle to our forces without the need for a long siege. Also, the recovery of the Trident, that was the apanage of the viceroy of Atlantis, has helped us recover more of our past. As for those present, may I start with Princess Iridia of the Fairies?"

The introduction continued from one end of the table to the other, shaking Antonius and Severus deeply. So, the golden boy was a dragon prince? And that huge hairy brute was a Troll prince? And there were kings, lots of kings: a Dwarf king, an Elf King, a Dragon king, and princes of all types and sorts? Severus was feeling ever smaller in his shoes and held desperately to his grandfather for some reassurance.

Once the introductions were completed, Antonius looked at Sitar with admiration, and understood why the boy had so impressed him with his poise. But as he looked around he came to realise that all those facing them showed the same level of resolute calmness that marked the true masters of the Martial Arts, even that four-year old prince, Ian was it? Harp, with his hawkish eyes, and the death grip on Bata, sent vibes of barely restrained power that even he could feel. The Elvin king spelled danger in big bloody-red letters for all to see. Antonius felt this was a situation that had developed recently, but he could not figure out what had caused it. The victory had been clear-cut, if bloody, quick, and undisputable. So what was causing the issue?

Severus, on the other hand, was impervious to the subtleties of the situation, only aware of the huge tension in the room. He hoped his grandfather was not the cause of the situation. As he studied those on their side of the table, he sensed something was amiss. Carefully, he studied each face, as the Atlanteans explained their plans for the city. Then it came to him like a slap in the face: the Diviners were nowhere to be seen.

He again pulled on his grandpa's sleeve. The old man looked at his grandson, wondering what had attracted his attention again. To his surprise, the boy gestured for him to lean down. He obeyed, figuring the boy wanted to go to the restroom.

"Grandpa, the Diviners are nowhere to be seen!" Severus whispered in the old man's ear.

As soon as the words left his mouth both Antonius and Severus felt the shift in Enron, Harp and Sitar's posture, and the temperature in the room dropped several degrees, to the point that the other participants shivered, even if an impressive fire was burning.

So, that was what had been troubling king Enron and Prince Harp, and now Prince Sitar, thought Antonius. What had those fools done to bring such animosity from such powerful beings?

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Severus. Please be very, very quiet, boy. You certainly noticed the change of dynamics in the room. Just look at king Enron and the two princes sitting beside him," whispered back Antonius. "We are sitting on a sealed volcano ready to blow and you inadvertently removed one of the stoppers."

Unfortunately for the two, the hearing of all those across the table had been enhanced by their ability to shift shape, and they were too focussed to see the others bleach. Ian gripped Typhoon's hand and ordered him to get a grip on himself just as the dragon prince was getting ready to change shape and roast the entire town in fury. The fire in his eyes were not missed by the others, and the mental order to Typhoon reached them as well, barely in time to prevent an explosion of blood-thirsty fury that would have left the town in ruins more effectively then the blast of the Atom God.

«We will deal with the issue, brothers, rest assured of that!» thundered Ian, «But now is not the time!»

The atmosphere had invariably changed at the table, notwithstanding Ian's strong intervention. Even those that had totally missed the attitude change in Enron and the adjoining princes felt something had tipped. As to what, they couldn't figure it out, but the cordial atmosphere had been replaced by a much more icy one.

Finally, Harold stood up, signalling the end of discussions. He took a few breaths then began telling the assembly his decisions, decisions that made the room's temperature plummet to subzero in a flash.

"Let me state the law of Atlantis: the abuse of life, be it a dog, a horse, or any animal, is severely punished! The sale, trade, enslavement, or mistreatment of people or any life form, be they male, female, or children is punishable by death. The use of persons of either sex, whatever their age, for sexual gratification of any kind is punishable by death. Contributing to these trades by any means is punishable by death. Our laws are harsh, but we do not intend to let in our midst people who are so inclined. The only remiss from these sentences is conscription, and it is a delayed death sentence, since the first in line are the conscripts who may buy their dignity back by bravery and sacrifice. However, our army numbers several millions by now, and I doubt the entire population of the Eastern Kingdom would effectively contribute to improve our fighting in any way."

Taking a breath, Harold continued, looking at each participant in the eyes as he spoke, to drive his point across.

"We know who does what, much better then the previous duke was able to. This afternoon, hundreds, no, thousands of citizens will be either enrolled or killed. Let me make it very clear. Do not interfere. Your head is only tied to your shoulders for as long as you stay clear of our fury. Return to your respective chapters, and inform those there of the upcoming cleanup. Running away from us will only serve one purpose: point out who is guilty, not that we need that."

As the procession left the meeting, faces longer then carpets hanging on clotheslines, Antonius began to rise with the help of Severus.

"Stay seated, Antonius. My son will bring you back to your home, as your second in command is quite capable of handling the situation at your chapter."

"I wish not to impose on the Prince," replied, ill at ease, Antonius.

"It is not an imposition. My sons, all of them would be glad to bring you and Severus home as soon as I am done with you."

This sounded ominous to Antonius, and Severus stood up, fury in his eyes.

"If you plan to hurt my grandfather, it will be over my dead body!"

"Young man, if I so wished, you would find yourself back at home, bound tighter then a sausage and hanging head down in your cellar. Do not make threats you cannot carry out. But I admit I choose my words wrongly. I need to talk to you Antonius. You need not fear, I understood why you did not press for my passage to Grand Master when I did the exam for Companionship. There were political considerations and you would have found yourself under undue pressure for favouring an unknown individual. There were, or should I say are, numerous jealous individuals in the chapter, and I am sure there are still quite a few, more inclined at undercutting each other's work then improving the trade."

"Then what is it you wish to talk to me about?"

"I, no, we heard your whispered exchange with Severus. It had escaped us that the Diviners were missing from the assembly, and once you mentioned them, Enron and Harp's attitude became clear as air: Enron had been in charge of ordering the Orders and Guilds to report to the palace. Their arrival here, covered in blood and guts, told us another part of the story. Apparently, Enron found the Diviners' chapter, contacted Harp, and the two butchered the members present to the last one. Am I right, Harp?"

"That is part of the story dad," replied Harp, as his fury surfaced anew, while Enron tensed violently, gripping his sword so hard his bones cracked.

"Would you care to explain what you mean son?" asked Harold as Samson whipped his head toward his own son upon hearing the bones crack under pressure.

"Yes dad." Harp began telling of the interrogation of the Great Grand Master, all the while watching Sitar as his brother bleached ever more, his hands gripping Excalibur with such force it whined in pain. Harp finished by describing the butchery of the Diviners, and the test their Great Grand Master had so badly failed.

As Harp exposed his discovery, the others also began to become extremely agitated. Ian had to grip Typhoon so hard he thought his hand would enter the dragon's while the other hand held Thorsten in check and kept his eyes fixated on Timor's with an insurmountable, unbreakable command to sit still. Only the whiteness of his face told of the untameable will with which Ian held the fort for all those present.

"Why did you wish us to hear this story?" asked Antonius, as Harp concluded, whiter then a ghost.

"So you would understand why things happened the way they did. So you could explain to the others what lies behind our inextinguishable fury toward the Diviners. So that you understand the severity of our laws are justified in view that these laws target those who benefit from the Diviners and their trade in humans. So that you understand whom the Diviners really are: slave traders in disguise, trading in a commodity, human children. Do you have any questions, Antonius? Severus?"

The two indicated they had none, and Sitar ported them back to Antonius' villa, well in time for their evening meal. Neither Antonius nor Severus ate much that night, as their stomach refused to hold food due to their newly acquired knowledge of the bestial activities of the Diviners. They both understood the need for retribution given what these traders in man meat had done to the Princes' family.

Their night was disturbed repeatedly by cries of horror as the Wolves, Dragons, Centaurs, Elves, Dwarfs, Fairies and Legions distributed bloody justice across the city. They woke up bleary-eyed, and in shock, at first light, unable to stay in bed any longer.