The Magistrate

Year 693

Chapter 1

Utopia and anarchy.

At seventy-one years of age, Quintus Magellis Baelarico had lived to see them both. He had seen his beloved Diathilos rise to become a sprawling empire that was the pinnacle of civilized society in the entire world of Dreganus. He had also seen it plunged into the chaos and anarchy that now ravaged the land. The splendor that was Diathilos fell prey to the scourges of decadence and decay. And though its history had spanned a mere one hundred eighty six years, it went before its time. Diathilos had so much to offer the world. If only those who had served it hadn’t been so greedy, selfish and corrupt.

Quintus had been one of those servants, though he liked to think he had led a much more honest life in his service to the empire. His position as chief magistrate demanded that he be righteous and lawful at all times. But alas, some of those times saw him embroiled in the aristocratic bureaucracy that was the royal grandeur of Diathilos. It was then that he’d had to compromise and pass judgments that he was less than proud of.

But, no matter. Those days were over. Now survival was all that remained. After the fall, many of his countrymen had fled to the north, settling in either Gylanth or Armandia. The more foolish had stayed, in a vain attempt to carve out some sort of meager existence in the razed nation.

Quintus had been one of those fools.

He had far too much pride to go easily or quickly. For most of his adulthood, Quintus had wealth, power and influence, and at this stage in his life, in this setting, those memories and trappings were worth holding onto. They were all he had left. They were everything.

Well, almost everything. The boy on his left, helping Quintus walk, was Naleth Orie, though he could hardly be considered a boy any longer. Naleth had come all the way from Tar Kezra, far to the east, at the age of sixteen, just to serve as a clerk in Judge Baelarico’s court. His exuberance, honesty and faith in Amitar, the God of Justice, reminded Quintus of himself as a youth. Naleth worked hard and never complained, an admirable trait that he had retained to this day. Quintus had never given the boy much thought or attention, but, on one occasion, shortly after his arrival at court, did inspire Naleth to pursue his aspirations of becoming a magistrate.

That was six years ago.

And so, after only two years of exemplary service, the empire collapsed and Naleth, like many others, had nowhere to go. Attempting a trip back home had been, and was still, too dangerous. He had of course sent word to his family but, not surprisingly, even after four years, he had heard nothing. His optimism, of course, told him that the letter simply hadn’t reached Tar Kezra, but Quintus, as gently as possible, had tried to impress upon Naleth the fact that his parents and siblings were probably missing or dead. Nonetheless, Naleth had stayed on with his judge and mentor, offering his services as personal assistant. Considering the fact that the rest of his staff had fled, Quintus had little choice but to accept the boy’s offer. Since then, he had come to rely on Naleth greatly, for emotional as well as physical support.

Quintus still held his magistrate’s staff in his right hand, leaning on it ever more heavily in these last few trying years. This was his badge of office and a testament to the prominence of his station. Made of a smooth, dark mahogany, its bottom was capped by a mallet-head of brass, which produced a thundering CRACK when pounded against the marble floors of the courts of Diathilos. At the top, a downward pointing silver sword, with stylized Scales of Justice as a pommel and crosspiece, formed the head. This symbol of Amitar added another twelve inches to its already impressive seven foot height, and was resplendent in any setting. Both the staff and its bearer commanded respect wherever they went, though now, both were a little worse for wear. Quintus noticed how worn its finish had become, as well as the nicks and scratches that now covered its once polished surface. The symbolism was not lost on the magistrate, as he used the staff to poke through a pile of marble fragments, once a statue of some imperial dignitary. As a judge, he would regularly sift through the facts of his cases searching for the truth. Now, he sifted through the rubble of his homeland, searching for any remnants of his glorious past that could be salvaged.

But, he was also searching for something else…

“Come, magistrate,” ordered Dorian, “we must be well away from here before dusk.”

“At once, Captain Petronus,” Quintus acquiesced. He trusted the former legionnaire implicitly, as he had found that the soldier had the same sense of duty Quintus felt in himself. If Dorian Petronus said it was time to move on, then one should make haste immediately. “Attend me, boy.”

Naleth offered his young, strong arm to help Quintus up from his kneeling position, taking no offense at the nickname the old judge had used, if only out of habit. He knew that his mentor had every respect for him, and in fact, thought of Naleth as a son. Naleth didn’t mind filling that role, believing that his presence was a gift to the venerable judge in his twilight years, allowing him to satisfy an unfulfilled ambition in the man’s life that had been preempted by his honorable service to the empire. The magistrate had no children of his own, having dedicated his life, at a very young age, to the pursuit of law and justice.

Naleth led Quintus to his horse, which was being quietly groomed and attended by the lovely Spiretta. Naleth, and for that matter, the rest of the party, knew little about her, save that she had been a horsemaster in the southern city of Xin Tara. Her beauty belied her age, though the consensus held that she was about ten years older than Naleth. Her strong, silent demeanor, combined with raven hair and a healthy physique, was enough to make even Captain Petronus shy when she was near. But it was her affinity with animals and knowledge of the wilderness that made her invaluable to the small, ragged band.

Spiretta held the black steed steady as Naleth helped Quintus into the saddle.

“Thank you both,” offered Quintus with a tired huff.

“Gladly, magistrate,” replied Spiretta, graciously and with a slight bow of the head.

Quintus was secretly convinced that Spiretta was indeed some sort of aristocrat or noble attempting to hide her true identity. Her discipline and mannerisms were too well refined. It wouldn’t be the first he had seen. There were all sorts of vagabonds wandering the ruins, looking for someone to blame for this catastrophe. Most held the nobility and officials of Diathilos responsible, and those same misplaced masses were looking to commit rape and robbery to satisfy their lust for revenge. So if their comely companion was truly someone of import, it was not the judge’s place to reveal her.

Dorian and Spiretta mounted up, their two horses leading the party, with Quintus and Naleth following behind. They had only gone a few feet when Quintus spoke.

“I believe it is time that we headed south,” Quintus declared.

Both Dorian and Spiretta wheeled their mounts to face Quintus. “Honorable Magistrate,” Dorian addressed the judge, “we have discussed this matter before. Xin Tara has been overrun and we will not be able to breach its interior. Every rumor we have heard, reliable or otherwise, supports this fact.”

“Precisely why we must go, Captain,” replied Quintus. “It is time that we settle this issue once and for all, and discover, officially, what has befallen our fair city-in-the-hills.”

Dorian lowered his head in a troubled manner. Quintus knew that the soldier wanted to argue the point of proceeding into this highly dangerous area but had too much respect for the old man to contradict him. Spiretta, who claimed to hail from Xin Tara, was oddly quiet on the matter. Her eyes, however, reflected her uneasiness at the thought of returning to her home town.

“Do you have anything to add Spiretta?” queried Quintus.

The gorgeous and rugged brunette paused for a moment, trying to think of something constructive to say. “We should avoid the roads. Stick to the forest until we reach the hills on the outskirts of the city.”

Quintus nodded his agreement. “If we keep a cautious pace, that should put a five or six day ride ahead of us. I should think that, between the four of us, we should be able to conceive a plan of infiltration by then.”

Dorian looked up from his thoughts to find the magistrate staring at him, waiting for a response. “Your Honor,” Captain Petronus complied.

Quintus turned to Naleth, looking at him compassionately. “Once we reach Xin Tara, son, you needn’t follow us in. The danger may be---“

“I am with you, sir,” Naleth broke in.

Quintus put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I just want you to realize that, regardless of what you have seen, regardless of all the things that have happened here, you still have your entire life ahead of you.”

“And it is your path I follow, sir,” Naleth said proudly.

Quintus was nearly moved to tears as the party headed south through the forest.

The remainder of that evening had been uneventful, as had the night. Naleth had dreams of Spiretta, but it was nothing he felt comfortable sharing. The next morning, camp was abandoned with the usual efficiency and the group rode southward without a word of debate.

As the sun rose, each of them kept a sharp eye out for bandits, tribal humanoids or the traps they set for unwary wanderers. Scanning the rocks, trees and shadows, the four travelers remained alert for any sort of ambush, a common occurrence in the less civilized areas. For the most part, the band’s explorations had been confined to within several dozen leagues of the capital city of Thir Adha. Now, they were ranging out farther than ever before. Information about the surrounding locales became less reliable as the group rode closer and closer to Xin Tara.

Normally, in times of peace and prosperity, the countryside was filled with lively hovels, farms, inns and taverns. The roads were lined with shrines and monuments, statues and pillars, all dedicated to some glorious aspect of the history of Diathilos. But thus far, Quintus and his party came across little that hadn’t been ransacked, burned, smashed, looted, pillaged or plundered. It was indeed sad, and weighed heavily on Quintus’ heart. The more he saw of his ruined land, the more anguished his soul became. But that was why he was here, why he was putting his life, and his companions’ lives, at risk. He was determined to find some clue as to---

“Shht.” Captain Petronus raised his hand sharply and swiftly and the small procession came to an immediate halt. Quintus had been lost in his own thoughts and his alertness had waned. He had neither seen nor heard any disturbance in the surrounding woods.

Old age, he thought bitterly. I’ll be damned if any harm comes to these fine folk because of my failing faculties.

Quintus surveyed the trees around him. Unlike most of the forested areas near Thir Adha, this stretch of woodlands had not been razed or burnt as badly as he had seen before. Many of the trees had been notched or broken, but all in all, the greenery here seemed to be much healthier.

Which meant more places to hide.

Dorian flattened out his hand horizontally. This predetermined signal told the others to lean forward and shield themselves with their horses. As he did so, Quintus looked to Naleth and tried to give him a reassuring look.

“It will be all right,” the judge whispered.

Naleth nodded his understanding, though his face barely contained a hint of worry. They had all been through this drill before. Sometimes the result was almost comical. Sometimes it was near fatal. But always, Naleth remained steady and calm. The boy had more trust and faith than any being Quintus had ever met.

Gods help me if I ever let him down, thought Quintus.

Looking forward, Quintus suddenly noticed that Spiretta had drawn her bow and notched an arrow, so quickly and silently that neither he nor the boy had noticed. Who is this woman? he wondered. Past her, Captain Petronus had begun to urge his horse slowly ahead, his wooden lance leading the way. His helmeted head pivoted vigilantly from left to right, seeking whatever it was that was about to disturb the awkward tranquility of their early morning ride.

Spiretta softly clucked her horse, and the animal deftly began to backpedal, bringing it alongside Quintus’ horse, boxing him in between herself and Naleth. It was all the protection she could offer the magistrate for now.

The three of them watched tensely as Dorian approached a cluster of fallen trees, thick with overgrowth. He stayed mounted to retain the tactical advantage over whatever foe lay hidden within. Then, when he was almost upon the heap, he thrust with his lance, smoothly but with great force. It impacted with something inside the thicket and a wild thrashing began. A woeful howl of pain erupted as Dorian heaved his lance back and pulled a wild and desperate lynx from its overgrown den. Spiretta burst into action, firing two arrows into the beast before Quintus even had time to register the first. The cat clawed madly at the lance, trying to break free but it was completely impaled and the creature soon lost its strength, as well as its life.

It was over as suddenly as it had begun. Naleth looked at Spiretta in awe, a youthful infatuation growing within him. She was wonderful. Quintus’ thoughts ran along a different line; She is more dangerous than I had first surmised. The magistrate was indeed glad she was on their side.

Spiretta noticed neither of their discerning stares, as she dismounted and moved to the pile of trees. Dorian likewise got off his horse and, drawing his knife, moved to cut the lynx loose from its impalement.

“We shall eat well tonight,” he commented, smiling at the meaty slain prey.

“Perhaps,” began Spiretta, “but not here.”

“What have you found?” asked Quintus, curious if she had discovered signs of danger or something more intriguing.

“These trees were cut and set as an ensnarement. Recently. They used rope for a tripwire and made it so that all three trees would fall inward simultaneously to crush the victim. Fairly sophisticated. The lynx may have set it off. Or it may have just found what it thought was a good hiding place.”

“May I check the thicket?” asked Naleth.

“No, let us be off,” ordered Captain Petronus, “I’m finished here.”

The soldier had wrapped up the lynx corpse completely and stowed it in his pack. He and Spiretta climbed back onto their mounts quickly and started out through the forest again, still heading south. It was obvious they took no chances where the magistrate’s well-being was concerned. They’d had far too many encounters that were close calls. Indeed, that was how Quintus had met both Spiretta and the good captain. Naleth, of course, had been with his mentor since they fled the capital, amidst those first few terrifying days of anarchy. The other two, however, were discovered only after several months of scouring the wilderness for allies and survivors. Naleth recalled those times with a mix of excitement and fear. He’d never had a spirit for adventure, but had gotten his share nonetheless. Finding Captain Petronus had been his first real encounter with danger…

*                 *                 *                 *                 *                 *

Dorian Petronus scrambled up the rocky mountain slope as fast as his legs could carry him. He realized that if he dropped his silver emblazoned armor, as well as his helmet and shield, he could move a lot faster. But when the inevitable confrontation came – and it would – he would need every advantage he could get. His only weapon was a sturdy wooden lance, tipped with a leaf headed steel point. If he could just find a defensible position, he should be able to hold off his pursuers until nightfall. Then he would have the chance to slip away into the darkness. The odds were heavily against him though; seven of his own men – seven! – had turned against their captain for the mere opportunity to discover the location of the emperor’s hidden mountain estate deep within the heart of the Imperial Range. The rest of Dorian’s platoon had either deserted or taken a bribe. Apparently, though, these seven soldiers valued their captain’s leadership in this venture, as if it somehow justified the looting of the royal family’s personal property. Captain Petronus had been adamant in his refusal, sternly reminding his men of their duty to protect the secret mountain passes that only those of royal blood could find their way through. While the cadre of conspirators went aside to discuss their options, Dorian made a break for it. As a leader, he knew the hearts of his men and the desperation of the times. A soldier’s pay, even in Diathilos, was mediocre when compared to the lavishness of a noble’s lifestyle. Indeed, the honor of serving as an Imperial Guardsman was thought to be sufficient pay in itself. But Dorian knew that these men saw their world crumbling around them and, now that they had crossed the line, would use any means at their disposal to not only survive but also to improve their station.

Even if it meant killing their commander.

It caused the captain great pain to abandon his roadside post at the mouth of the western pass, but he’d had no choice. Now, having climbed one hundred feet or so above the ground, he searched for a small cave or wall of boulders that he could use to defend himself against seven highly trained soldiers that were intent upon silencing him. Dorian knew they couldn’t let him live because they knew that he would dog their trail for as long as they chose to wander through the labyrinth of interconnecting passes.

Dorian paused to glance behind him. The rebellious guardsmen were still following him but at a slower pace. Luckily, they were not as skilled a climber as he. Dorian looked around, found a large boulder about fifty feet above and to the left of his position and made for it quickly. Once he reached it, he scrambled on top to get a better view. It had no cover or shelter but, from his vantage point, he could see every approach up the rocky mountain slope and it would even afford him the opportunity to send a barrage of stones flying down at his former comrades-in-arms. In truth, he bore them no malice and did not wish them harm. Duty became meaningless when the one you served was no longer in power, or for that matter, even present. Dorian understood how most men, no matter how well trained, could lose heart when faced with such chaos and anarchy that was beyond their comprehension. He could hardly fathom the reasons of how and why this had happened himself. But until he received orders from an Imperial general or – better yet – the emperor himself, Captain Petronus would stay loyal to the empire of Diathilos, an Imperial Guardsman to the end.

Dorian began to gather an arsenal of fist sized rocks, hoping he would not have to use them. Looking down on his men, he saw that they were already attempting to flank him, three to each side. One had stayed behind, at the foot of the mountain, to help direct their movements and to prevent Captain Petronus from descending unnoticed.

I taught them well, thought Dorian with bitter pride. Now I must find a way to use that against them. But first, he would try to reason with them one last time. He waited until they were within earshot, then tossed down one of the smaller stones onto each of the two ascending positions, making sure he had the attention of both groups.

“Imperial Guardsmen,” he began, appealing to their pride, “Do you remember your oath?”

There was a pause, as if they were deciding whether or not to answer their captain. The shouted reply came from Aquian Lasreth, one of Dorian’s lieutenants. “To defend the empire and its emperor until death.”

“Condensed, but essentially correct,” answered Dorian. “And do you feel you are obeying that oath right now?’

“That oath is no longer binding,” hollered Aquian angrily, “both the empire and the emperor are dead!”

“We do not know that,” stated Dorian flatly, though his gut told him otherwise.

“Have you not looked around you, Captain?” asked Aquian, “All we have seen is death, destruction and misery. Our superiors have sent no word of what transpires. How long must we wait until we are caught up in this madness?”

“We are already a part of this madness. And you have all become its perpetrators. Imperial Guardsmen have turned against each other, and that is not only unprecedented but unforgivable! It is not for us to question how or why but, as solemn defenders, carry out our duty and if necessary, fall in the service of our empire.”

Dorian let his words sink in. He hadn’t mentioned their intent to plunder the royal estate and, he noticed, neither had they. Obviously, though that was their intention, it wasn’t something that they were proud of, so he let the point pass, not wanting to cause embarrassment that would lead to an even greater anger on their part.

The captain had been so involved in his patriotic speech that he almost didn’t notice that one of the soldiers on his left flank had snuck in even closer. Dorian grabbed one of the rocks he had stockpiled and hurled it downhill. It bounced near where one of the advancing soldier’s hands had been, then continued its tumble to the earth below. The soldier – was that Versim? – halted his ascent, looking upwards at Captain Petronus, reconsidering his course. He didn’t relish the thought of murdering his former commander. He relished even less the thought of having his head smash in or being buried in an avalanche. There was no glory to be had here. Slowly, he turned and, climbing back down, rejoined his other two comrades.

Aquian frowned at this. The situation was difficult enough without these men being cowed by Captain Petronus and his arsenal of rocks. If he didn’t act quickly, they would likely change their minds or even join the captain. On the other hand, if he acted too rashly, Captain Petronus, ever canny on the battlefield, would likely bury them all in a landslide. Aquian needed time to think. He guessed by the sunlight that there was nearly six hours until dusk. It was doubtful that Captain Petronus would even attempt an escape until then. Lieutenant Aquian knelt down and began to survey the surrounding terrain. His plan would have to be a good one…

Three hours had passed since his fellow soldiers had climbed halfway up the mountainside and Guardsman Lavrim was getting restless. What did it matter if their foolish captain hounded them all the way to the Imperial estate? The odds were seven to one in their favor. He couldn’t defeat them all. Aquian was giving this one man far too much credit.

Lavrim was deciding whether or not to set out without the rest of his party when he noticed someone approaching from the west. Two someones actually, and on foot.  They weren’t soldiers - he saw no weapons or armor upon their persons - but that didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous. Still, it gave him an idea. Raising his lance, Lavrim trotted towards them, calling out as he approached.

“Citizens of the Empire! The Imperial Guardsmen require your assistance!”

The two travelers stopped, but Lavrim urged them to continue, pointing the way with his lance.

“I am Chief Magistrate Quintus Magellis Baelarico from the Imperial Court at Thir Adha,” announced the older of the two.  “What is the trouble?”

The fullness of the old man’s title gave Lavrim pause. He was now committing himself to his treasonous course by lying to an Imperial magistrate. Regaining his composure, Lavrim proceeded.

“Your honor,” he began, “One of our comrades has deserted us and has taken refuge on yon boulder. He plans to use his knowledge of the pass to find the Imperial estate and plunder its riches!”

Quintus furrowed his brow in concern. “An Imperial Guardsman turned traitor? I had not thought such things possible. We have truly lost our way then.”

The judge’s words stung Lavrim, but only a little. It was too late to turn back now. “We were all shocked as well, and feared he would turn on us. Luckily, our vigilance prevented his escape.”

“What can I do to help, my son?” asked Quintus.

“I would ask that you climb to his position and speak to him.”

“My frail bones could not make such an ascent,” answered Quintus. “But perhaps my young assistant could be of service.”

Naleth looked at his mentor in shock. “Wha? Me?”

Quintus gave the boy a warm smile and put his hand on the lad’s shoulder. “Even when our world is crumbling around us, we must retain those qualities and duties that make us civilized.”

Naleth, after a moment, nodded his assent. He was a bit more than anxious. Lavrim, however, had a sneer upon his face. “Your honor, I see not what this young stripling can accomplish. Come I shall assist you on this climb—“

Quintus held up his hand to settle the matter. “Naleth has been under my tutelage for more than two years now. I grant him the authority to speak in my name and on behalf of the Imperial justice system.”

Both Naleth and Lavrim looked at the magistrate with eyes wide. Never had either of them heard of such power being placed in one who bore no rank or title.

Times had obviously changed.

“Go on, lad,” urged Quintus, “Serve the empire.”

Naleth gulped heavily, then turned and, with a disgruntled Lavrim at his side, began to scale the craggy slope. Naleth was youthful and energetic, so it was an easy climb for him. Lavrim, encumbered by his armor, shield and lance, lagged behind a bit. Naleth had almost reached the boulder where Captain Petronus was hiding when Lavrim cried out to him.

“Halt! Do not approach any closer. He is a dangerous and desperate man and may do something rash, even harm you.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Dorian emerged from his stone barricade to see what this new ruckus was about. He was a bit taken aback when he saw the young court assistant standing just below him, with Guardsman Lavrim at the boy’s back.

“What new madness is this?” asked Dorian.

“P-Please sir, do come down. Uh…it’s not all that bad. The…um…empire needs you.”

Naleth was unsure of what to say. He’d never even spoken in court before. He looked at Lavrim for support.

“Tell him that you have the full authority of the courts,” Lavrim suggested, “and that if he doesn’t come down we – that is you – shall have to arrest him.”

“What?! ME? Arrest an Imperial Guardsman?” Naleth was flabbergasted.

“Just tell him!” Lavrim was getting irritated.

“Um…,” began Naleth, “I am the court representative and I can…um…have you taken into custody.”

Captain Petronus furrowed his brow in confusion. “I don’t know you, boy,” Dorian yelled back, “What have these men told you?”

“I am Naleth Orie, of the Imperial Court at Thir Adha. I am aide to the Chief Magistrate. He is here as well. Would you like to speak with him?” Naleth hoped the captain would say yes. This situation didn’t feel right. He wasn’t ready for this kind of responsibility. Lavrim nudged him in the back.

“No! You settle it. Get him to come out. Tell him anything.”

Naleth didn’t like this kind of pressure. “Sir, they say you are a traitor. I-I don’t see how that can be true. As an Imperial Guardsman, you have the right to come out a-and be given the chance to prove your innocence.”

As Naleth fumbled through his weak negotiation, Guardsman Lavrim was trying to assure a more favorable outcome for his side. Furtively, he signaled his fellow guardsmen to the left and to the right, who were still hunkered down behind stone barricades of their own. He made the sign for a pincer attack, and one guardsman from each side began to sneak towards Captain Petronus’ position.

“I’m not the traitor, boy,” Dorain asserted, “and if I were you, I would leave this place as quickly as possible. Your life is in danger.”

Naleth turned to look at Lavrim, suddenly fearful that he had made a grave error. The scowl on the guardsman’s face said that he had. Lavrim, tired of this game, put his lance to Naleth’s ribs, eliciting a slight yelp from the boy. Dorian heard this and was stirred to action. He scrambled to the edge of the boulder to get a better look at the situation. What he saw infuriated him.

“Lavrim, you bastard! You’re taking an innocent boy hostage to get at me?! This is cowardice beyond—“

The sound of falling rocks behind him stopped Dorian from his tirade. One of the guardsmen, in a hasty attempt to get at the now-vulnerable captain, had taken a bad step and was tumbling – painfully – downhill, being bashed by numerous rocks along the way. Dorian then noticed the second guardsman lunging towards him. The captain dove for his pile of stones but was intercepted by the tackling form of Guardsman Versim. The impact sent them both to the edge of the jutting boulder. Dorian’s helmet flew off and bounced a short ways, coming to rest at Naleth’s feet. In his distressed state of mind, the boy could only stare at it in stunned silence.

“He’s down,” yelled Lieutenant Aquian, “Get him!”

The remaining soldiers rushed forward towards the scuffling men on top of the boulder. Lavrim advanced as well, wanting to finally take a piece out of the self righteous captain who had insulted him. Aquian stopped him though, pointing to the boy. “Stay with him,” he ordered, running up the mountainside.

“Why? He’s nothing,” insisted Lavrim. Aquian hadn’t heard him though, intent upon his prey. Lavrim turned to regard Naleth and decided it was better not to have a potential enemy at his back. “Whelp,” he commented, as he lifted his lance to strike the terrified young one. Just then, from above, Versim’s body came crashing down heavily upon Lavrim’s head, sending them both down the mountain in a screaming, bloody mess.

Captain Petronus had just enough time to grab a stone and hurl it towards a guardsman approaching his right flank. The rock hit the soldier squarely in the face, and his helmet was not enough to deflect or lessen the blow. Dorian saw the man collapse but knew not whether he was dead or unconscious. Then, they were on him. The lances of Lieutenant Aquian and his two remaining guardsmen were aimed at Dorian’s chest, forcing him back to the boulder’s edge.

“It’s over, Captain,” threatened Aquian, “Join us and get rich, or die here at your post.”

Dorian looked down over the edge of the boulder. He saw his helmet, the boy, and Lavrim’s lance. His helmet was of no use, and this Naleth seemed to be in shock. But the lance…

“All right,” acquiesced Dorian, “You’re right. It’s not worth it. I guess there’s no point in serving an empire that doesn’t exist.”

“When you acquire all the wealth that we’re going to have, you won’t ever have to serve anyone again.”

Dorian nodded. “So once we find it, we split it evenly?”

“Of course,” assured Aquian, “There are only four of us now. We’ll have more gold than we know what to do with.”

“Can I have your solemn oath on that?” Dorian held out his hand to seal the agreement.

“If I can have yours,” countered the lieutenant.

“Absolutely.”

Aquian paused for a moment, measuring if his captain was going to attempt some sort of trick. The lieutenant knew he had the upper hand though, and so went to shake with Dorian. Both men offered a firm grip and stared intently into each others eyes, as if daring the other to attempt a betrayal.

Captain Petronus did just that.

Stepping backwards and pulling with all his might, Dorian plunged off the boulder, taking Lieutenant Aquian with him. Dorian’s landing spilled him solidly on his rump and he ended his fall looking up at the sky. The drop was not as far as he thought. Aquian, however, cracked his chin on a protruding rock before he crumpled into a dazed heap.

Dorian shook off his soreness and quickly grabbed Lavrim’s lance. Jamming it into the crevices beneath the base of the giant boulder, he began to heave with every ounce of strength he had left, hoping the wooden weapon wouldn’t break.

Up top, the two remaining guardsmen rushed to the edge to observe the fates of their superior officers. They were looking down just as the huge stone began to move.

“Watch out, boy!” yelled Dorian. He had managed to dislodge the rocks that had kept the boulder balanced. Now, gravity was taking over. Naleth leaped out of the way as the two guardsmen lost their balance and fell with the massive, tumbling rock. Aquian looked up from his stupor just in time to become a bloody smear on the side of the mountain.

Captain Petronus watched, sweating and panting, as the boulder finally came to rest at the entrance to the pass, nearly sealing it off. He almost laughed at the unintentional symbolism. Finding Naleth, he helped the lad to stand.

“Are you all right, son?”

“I-I think so,” came the shaken reply.

“Are you injured?”

Naleth looked over his person. “I believe I have received but a scratch, sir.”

Dorian laughed heartily at this. “Then perhaps I should promote you. Anyone who can defeat seven Imperial Guardsmen with only a scratch to show for it is worth at least the rank of Lieutenant, wouldn’t you say?”

Naleth could only nod in utter disbelief, as Captain Petronus collected his helmet and placed it unceremoniously on the young man’s head.

*                 *                 *                 *                 *                 *

Three days had passed and, in that time, sightings of creatures both bestial and humanoid had increased alarmingly. The band of four had been forced to conceal themselves from several marauding giants, two ogrish patrols and a flight of harpies.

“It only gets worse from here,” Dorian had commented the night before.

“I realize that, Captain,” Quintus replied, “It has become painfully obvious that the city and the surrounding countryside is being reclaimed by the less civilized tribal sorts.”

“Has been reclaimed,” corrected Dorian.

“Well, two more days and we shall know for certain. More importantly, we will know how and why.”

Dorian didn’t belabor the point. He had already committed to helping the old judge and would see it through. Spiretta’s expression, however, had gone from trepidation to outright fear. This bothered Quintus. He didn’t want to force anyone to do something that disturbed them so. But her knowledge of the local area, and her ability to move through it stealthily, was crucial to their success and survival. What had she seen that was so horrific? Quintus and the others needed her sharp and aware if they were to proceed.

“M’lady,” he said, playing off his instinct, “Once we reach the hills, I will require you to scout the area for the safest route that will take us nearest the outskirts of the city. Can you do this and do it safely? Our presence must not be detected.”

Spiretta opened her mouth slightly, as if to respond, but no words came out. She merely continued staring at the ground, as she had done for the last hour.

“M’lady,” pressed Quintus, “I must know if you are capable of this task.”

Still, only silence.

“M’lady, we have all seen horrors that no one should have to witness in their lifetime and I’ll wager that we shall see many more before the end to this catastrophe is known. But heed me now when I tell you that, whether citizen, servant or noble, you are obligated – nay, it is your duty! – to see to the well-being of your fellow countrymen and indeed the empire itself! So once again, I implore you, can you accomplish this undertaking?!”

Spiretta, blinking back to a state of awareness, heard Quintus’ words and suddenly realized why this man had risen to such a respected position and become such a vital and revered member of the justice system of Diathilos. She felt a little ashamed to have behaved in such a way before him.

“I will do as you ask, magistrate,” she said at length, “and I will succeed. For Diathilos.”

What had once been beautiful rolling and forested hills that went on and on were now barren and bleak. The trees were splintered, felled or burnt and the ground was covered with refuse, excrement and carcasses. Quintus and Naleth used what remained of their tattered robes to shield their noses against the putrid odor that pervaded the entire area. Naleth even tried to lessen the effect by taking small breaths through his mouth.

They’d had to hold up a lot further from Xin Tara than they’d wished, but with the harsh and open terrain, as well as the numerous creatures they’d almost encountered, it was becoming far too dangerous too quickly. Quintus and Naleth knelt in the last copse of trees visible for leagues, as they kept a close eye on Captain Petronus, who was hunkered down on the hilltop about one hundred yards ahead of them. From there, he could survey the surrounding landscape and keep a sharp lookout for any approaching enemies.

He was also waiting for a sign of Spiretta’s return.

Already she had been gone for over six hours, scouting ahead of the party and searching for a safe route into the city’s outskirts. Normally, this wouldn’t concern Dorian, given her rate of travel and the lack of natural camouflage left in these hills. But the hostility of the area’s new occupants was cause for a significant amount of worry to him. She was alone. And though she probably wouldn’t return until after nightfall, he wished it could be sooner. All physical attractions aside, Captain Petronus felt that Spiretta was someone he could trust and count on, even in a fight. And that was of utmost importance, especially where the safety of the magistrate and his assistant were concerned. Her skill with a bow was like nothing he had ever seen. He had heard stories of the Ethulin and their legendary archers, and he imagined that she was one who could give them a run for their money.

Dorian peered at the nearby hills and valleys, but all he saw was more corruption of the blackened land; no enemies, no Spiretta. He turned slowly to check behind him and, seeing that his charges were still safely concealed by the small stand of trees, felt somewhat reassured. But he wanted to leave soon. This whole idea was poorly conceived and tactically unsound. Even if they discovered the fate of Xin Tara, who would they report it to? Captain Petronus sincerely hoped that the magistrate’s curiosity was sated once they found out this bit of seemingly useless information.

Meanwhile, Quintus and Naleth had little to do but wait for the woman to return. They felt safe enough to speak in whispers, but no more.

“I haven’t seen any of those creatures all day,” uttered Naleth. “Perhaps they have abandoned this area.”

“Or perhaps this area is more dangerous than they are,” replied Quintus, wisely. “Plagues, curses, dark magics. All unseen enemies.”

Quintus could see by the look on Naleth’s face that his last comment had both enlightened and upset the boy. “More than likely the creatures and tribals that patrol this area only come out at night. We should be fine until then.” The old man’s reassurance comforted the boy a bit, but at this point, even Quintus wasn’t sure what was truth and what was supposition. At least the horses were calm.

“How long has she been gone?” asked Naleth quietly.

“A long time,” answered Quintus, “and she’ll been gone a while yet.”

Naleth nodded his understanding.

“My dear boy,” said Quintus, “I truly wish that you would allow Spiretta and the captain to teach you a bit of swordplay and how to use the bow. There are so many dangers out here – and elsewhere – that you would be able to face more confidently. If we lose either of our fine protectors – Amitar, please forbid it! – it will be that much harder for us to defend ourselves. And putting all of that burden onto them is also unfair. I have my doubts about finding…certain things before my time is ended, and once I am gone, there will be no reason for any of you to remain in this place. I expect you all to seek greener fields and happier lives. But in order to reach those places, you will need to have the ability to defeat any foes that try to prevent you from attaining that goal.”

Naleth took in what the magistrate had said. It wasn’t the first time that Quintus had urged him that direction.

“The law is my sword and shield,” recited Naleth, “and when it has failed to protect me, Amitar will. You taught me that, sir. And I still believe it.”

Quintus felt a lump start to form in his throat. “You have always been an excellent student, Naleth,” he said with a bit of emotion causing his voice to tremble slightly. “But now you must learn to see the world for everything it is, in all its forms of grandeur and ugliness. Even I have had to learn to use my staff – the very symbol of my office! – as a tool and weapon. It gives me no great pride when I must utilize it in such a vulgar fashion but it must be done, so that we may all survive and carry on.”

“Sir,” began Naleth, “I would much rather the ideals that you and I have served carry on than for me to survive without my ideals intact. It was those ideals that I grew up with, and those ideals that made the empire of Diathilos the forefront of civilization and the grandest place in the world. It was those ideals that brought me under your tutelage and those ideals that I wish to bring to other lands.”

Good, thought Quintus, cynically, for there certainly aren’t any ideals left in this land. The boy was very resilient and unshakable in his beliefs, but he didn’t wish to disillusion Naleth any more than he already was. The poor lad had already seen enough for his age.

“You are wise beyond your years, my son,” stated Quintus, smiling warmly, very pleased with his pupil. “And you are right; the world certainly doesn’t need another person boldly swinging a sword about.”

Yes, Quintus was very pleased with Naleth, and he was beginning to greatly lament the fact that he wouldn’t live long enough to see the boy become a man of true idealism, maybe even one day attaining the position of Chief Magistrate himself, perhaps in some place like Armandia or—

“My trees!!”

Quintus and Naleth nearly jumped out of their skins when the exasperated cry erupted from above their heads.

“I never thought to see you again! Where have you been?”

Quintus grabbed his staff and held it defensively in front of himself.

“Who are you? Friend or foe? Come down that we may see you.”

“Eh?” said the strange voice, obviously surprised. “You’ve learned to speak! Oh, I am so proud of my trees!”

Naleth, keeping a wary eye looking upwards, moved to the horses and tried to calm their jittery nerves.

“I am speaking to you, here!” stated Quintus.

“So you are,” replied the voice, still talking to the leaves and branches. “Next you shall have to learn how to read my mind. That’s when the interesting conversation begins!”

Quintus was taken aback by the apparent madness of this individual. Nevertheless, it disturbed him to think that someone had been hiding this close to them without their knowledge. Quintus was sure that the copse had been unoccupied when they entered it. How had this person suddenly appeared just a few feet from them with no sound or movement to betray his presence? Perhaps it was magic. It would certainly explain why this grove of trees stood alone and untouched by whatever ravages had devastated the rest of what was once a beautifully forested hillside.

Quintus took his staff and rapped it upon the tree trunk, just underneath the stranger’s feet. “Look this way, fellow!”

A dirty face looked down through the tree limbs, making eye contact with the magistrate. “Ah, I see you have some lively lichen loitering around your little roots. I shall attend to it.”

The shabby-looking man adjusted his position, as if to climb down the tree, but it was obvious to the two onlookers that he had no idea how.

“Do you require assistance?” asked Quintus.

“No!” came the harsh reply. “Don’t touch me! I can do it myself. You have to learn to walk before you can fall.” As if to demonstrate, the odd fellow put his foot out into the empty air, seemingly intent on walking on nothingness until he reached the ground.

His fall from the tree was quick and ugly, as he broke several branches on the way down. Quintus, unable to break the man’s fall, succeeded only in getting caught up in his plunge. The two of them hit the ground solidly, both men’s trappings and personal effects scattering in every direction. Naleth ran up to assist his mentor.

“Magistrate! Are you all right?”

Quintus pulled his arm out from under the stranger, did his best to shake off the effects of the tumble and allowed Naleth to help him stand.

“I am…fine son. Just…a bit winded. See to him.”

Naleth stood over the fallen man, his face still planted firmly in the dirt. “Sir, we would know if you are friend or foe.”

“Skz,” came the muffled reply.

“What was that?”

The stranger lifted his head slightly. “My name.”

“What name?” asked Naleth.

“Skizz.”

“Your name is ‘Skizz’?”

“Well it certainly isn’t ‘Friend’,” commented Skizz. “And who would name their child ‘Foe’? That’s just asking for trouble!”

Naleth turned a confused look onto Quintus. The old judge spared his aide any further bewilderment.

“Allow me to help you up,” offered Quintus.

Skizz grabbed onto the hand that was presented to him and stood, giving no thanks for it. Without bothering to dust himself off, Skizz then went and sat on a rock that was much too small to support him. “Yiii!” he shrieked, jumping up and rubbing his posterior. Quintus was quick to silence him.

“Shhh!” he whispered, “We must be quiet. There are many enemies about.”

Skizz looked at the magistrate with widening eyes. Then, without warning, he squatted.

And then stood. And squatted. And stood. “I…I feel so…light.”

Quintus looked at him quizzically. “I’m sorry?”

Skizz’s eyes suddenly bulged from his head. “MY THINGS!” With frantic desperation, he dropped to the ground and began grasping at the many odd possessions that had flown from his torn pack and dirty robes following his fall from the tree and subsequent impact with Quintus. Naleth watched the curious fellow as he collected a small painting, two spools of red yarn and a pair of antlers. Skizz kept piling things into his arms, belt and pack until they were falling into a messy clutter that Skizz just couldn’t seem to organize.

To Quintus, most of the items looked like worthless bits of garbage, but then again, that seemed to be all that was left of many citizens personal property. He decided it was best to help this strange man and then be on their way. With all his shouting, it was no longer safe to stay within their shelter of trees. They would have to move on and hope that Spiretta was near enough to join them before it got dark. Otherwise, they may never find each other.

The magistrate motioned for Naleth to assist in the clean-up effort, which the boy did without complaint. Quintus went to collect his staff where it had landed near the hollow of a large tree. As he bent down to grab what had essentially become a fancy walking stick, he caught a glimpse of something within the vacant tree trunk. Thinking it to be another of Skizz’s eclectic belongings, he pulled it into the light. It was a thick ledger of some sort, and it had seen better days. Its cover and spine were torn and stained, and whatever had been written there was quite faded. But the tome had a familiarity to it, something Quintus felt he had seen before. Curious, the old man opened to the first page and there, unsmudged and clearly visible, was the Imperial sigil, modified to indicate the Emperor’s personal seal!

Quintus immediately wondered what a vagabond like Skizz was doing with something as obviously valuable and potentially important as this piece of Imperial scribery. Entranced, Quintus began to flip through the pages to get a better idea of what sort of document he was holding. There were signs, symbols, names, vague locations, but nothing explaining what the purpose of this volume was. It was written in D’losian, the common language of the Empire, and the words and letters were scribed in a flowing, fanciful hand. The text did not appear to be in any sort of code, but there was an unfinished quality about the whole thing. The book itself bore no wax seals, latches or locks and any sort of arcane protections would certainly have had their effect by now. One page listed the emperor, his family and inner circle of royalty by name. But why would someone—

Quintus felt his breath catch in his chest. Could this be it? Could this be what he had been seeking for nearly half a decade? He quickly flipped through the pages again, looking on them with a different perspective. Of course, he thought, so simple, yet so ingenious! It all made perfect sense. But for it to work, the emperor would have to—

“Hey!” exclaimed Skizz, “Gimme back my pages! Leave that alone! I haven’t stolen your page!”

“I’m sorry,” replied Quintus excitedly, “but I don’t think you realize—“

“Don’t mess with my stuff!” insisted Skizz, “It’s mine!”

“Sir,” pleaded Quintus, “I must be allowed to—“

“I said gimme that back NOW!”

Suddenly, as if on cue, a monstrous, roaring crash came from above them, smashing limb after limb on its way down through the trees. A large, roundish shape fell directly on top of Naleth, pinning him painfully to the ground.

Quintus’ first thought was that it was a boulder thrown by one of the wandering giants they had passed earlier, but then he saw the eyes, dozens of them, small and large, reddened and oozing, covering the entire surface of this disgusting creature.

An oculox.

The magistrate had heard tales of this sorcery-spawned aberration, each more horrifying than the last. The magicks that emanated from its eyes were purported to be chaotic and deadly. And each eye that adorned its corpulent body was said to be the soul of one of its victims.

The oculox levitated itself off of the ground and poor Naleth. Quintus could see that the boy lived but was in pain. Luckily, the oculox began floating towards Skizz, who was trying to shuffle away as fast as he could, still carrying his scavenged junk pile. The thing roared and Skizz whimpered.

Quintus moved to Naleth, intent on helping him any way he could, though he knew very little of treating injuries.

“Can you speak, son?” he asked compassionately.

“Yes, sir,” came the pained reply.

“Can you move? We must flee.”

“I shall try, sir. Ack!”

Naleth lied back down, unable to move without serious discomfort.

“I am sorry, sir,” apologized the boy, “I must have broken a rib.”

“No, you didn’t, son,” corrected Quintus, “that thing did.”

“What is it? I cannot see from here.”

“Don’t worry yourself, son,” Quintus assured him, “I shall protect you.”

The magistrate looked up from the boy and saw the oculox still chasing Skizz through the trees. The scavenger was yelping and screaming in a wild panic, but he refused to let go of his possessions. Suddenly, a jet of flame shot of from one of the eyes of the oculox and hit a tree trunk just to the left of Skizz. The madman darted to the right, and another stream of ice shot from yet another eye of the beast, freezing the nearest tree.

Quintus took the opportunity to find his staff again. He gripped it firmly and stood in front of the wounded Naleth. The boy realized what his mentor was doing. “Sir, please leave!” he cried.

“I will not.”

“Please, don’t sacrifice yourself on my account.”

Quintus began to mutter a final prayer to Amitar, the god of justice. When he had finished, he opened his eyes and saw that the oculox was floating towards him, menacingly, pus and blood dripping from its form. The magistrate saw no sign of Skizz. He had either escaped or been annihilated.

As the monstrosity drew closer, Quintus assumed a defensive stance, determined to give this thing the fight of its life; he was determined to save the boy at all costs, and his old body was all that stood between Naleth and the oculox. The thing was almost upon him, and he saw several of the eyes begin to glow a seething red.

Quintus prepared for his end.

Two lighting quick arrows buzzed over the magistrates shoulder and punctured a pair of the creature’s eyes. The beast roared in agony, but from what orifice, Quintus did not know. He then saw Captain Petronus charge full bore into the thing, screaming a battlecry of the war god Teh’gar. His lance impaled the oculox soundly and erupted from its other side. Dorian’s strength forced the creature back and the soldier twisted his lance so as to pin the thing to the ground. It began to writhe and convulse in its death throes. Two more arrows from Spiretta’s bow put it out of its misery. The four of them watched disgustedly as the oculox seemed to melt into a bubbling puddle of rank-smelling ooze.

Captain Petronus breathed heavily from the exertion, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “Why didn’t you call for me?”

“There was no time,” replied Quintus, “We scarcely had time to act.”

The captain looked at Quintus sternly, as his breathing began to slow. “Respectfully, sir, I cannot protect you if you insist on undertaking these rash expeditions and then ignoring our established safety measures.”

Quintus knew that the soldier was right. “Yes, I imagine I haven’t been making your duty any easier.”

“Well, it shall soon be,” he stated, “We’re leaving Diathilos.”

“Why?” asked the magistrate, “what have you found?”

“Tell him,” Dorian instructed Spiretta, who was already tending to Naleth’s wounds.

“Xin Tara is overrun with those things,” she said, motioning towards the remains of the oculox. “I believe they have also enslaved several other races with some of their strange magics, but there is nothing to be done for them. The city is lost.”

Quintus pondered this for a moment, seeing how it all fit into the grand scheme of things. The capital, Thir Adha, had also been taken over, but in that instance it was an army of bandits, rogues, cutthroats and thieves, led by a ruffian named Bantrum. That only left the city in the far east, that of Tar Kezra, Naleth’s home. But seeing as how it was nearly impossible to find ones way through the imperial range and into the city – not to mention the many months of dangerous overland travel to circumvent them – Quintus decided that it was time to lead his brave band of men and women to safety. They had served him well over the last few years, often at great risk to their own lives. He owed them that much. He would see them to the nearest civilized nation and send them on their way, while they still had the strength and youth to find a way of starting their lives over. Perhaps then he would hire some other adventurers to aid him in his quest to discover the underlying cause of the fall of Diathilos.

Spiretta stood up from her ministrations over Naleth. “We need to get him to a shelter so that he may rest and heal.”

Quintus nodded. “So be it. Prepare the horses for travel. I shall gather our things.”

Spiretta gently helped the boy to stand. Had he not been in such pain, he may have enjoyed her closeness. As it was, she had patched up several minor wounds and bandaged his entire midsection. Captain Petronus moved to collect his lance, now that the puddle of muck had, for the most part, seeped away. ”We should head west and make for the coast. Perhaps there we may find a boat or—“

“The book!” exclaimed Quintus abruptly.

Captain Petronus paused, watching as the old judge initiated a frantic search of the area. “What is it, magistrate?”

“I-I must have dropped it when that t-thing fell from the trees…”

Dorian had no idea what Quintus was referring to, but he began to help him look nonetheless.

“Perhaps that odd fellow took it before he fled, or maybe it was destroyed by that beast…” Quintus was rambling incoherently now. Dorian had never seen the old man so upset.

“No!” yelled Quintus, “It can’t be gone! It’s what I’ve been searching for! It holds the answers to all of this! No!”

Captain Petronus was beginning to get worried. The magistrate’s mind seemed to be going these last few weeks. And his actions were showing no regard for the dangers that surrounded him and the others. Dorian needed to lead this party out of the wilds as quickly as possible, before there was any loss of life.

“We need to be off, sir,” he said tersely.

“Yes, but if I can just find—“

“NOW, your honor.”

Quintus snapped out of his madness. What has come over me? he thought. The curse upon this land is affecting me now, as it probably affected poor Skizz. He had become so focused on finding the book that he had forgotten about his young assistant’s needs. “Yes, of course, Captain. At once.”

The four of them mounted their horses, Spiretta riding alongside Naleth, helping him to remain in the saddle with as little discomfort as possible. They headed west, leaving the shelter of the trees in hopes of finding a secure place to camp before nightfall – and before anything else found them.

As they rode, Quintus closed his eyes and concentrated on recalling – and memorizing – every detail that he had observed within the pages of that enigmatic Imperial tome…