Ivkarha’s laughter, loud and raucous split the air; even Aedmorn managed a soft chuckle at the Atherdan’s pronouncement.

“If you think that we will help you with that,” Ivkarha told him, “Well, you don’t know us at all well.”

The ancient Atherdan drew himself up to his full, impressive height, his eye flashing with fire. “You dare oppose my will, I who have lived since before the sun, before your race was yet conceived? I had thought to let you live for your service, but such effrontery can result in but one outcome, your slow and exquisite deaths. Now serve, worms!”

So saying, he turned the full weight and majesty of his mind upon them, will boring in on them. Flashes of fire lanced through their minds, a web that settled and burned and sought to extinguish their wills, their purpose, their being.

A haze of red descended across their eyes and they felt themselves dropping to their knees, forced don by the overwhelming presence before them, a presence compared to which they were but gnats.

A voice whispered in their minds, each word accompanied by stab of fiery pain that lanced deeper; “I am the Eldest. I am the First. I am the Last. And I will no longer be alone.”

Through all the pain, Ivkarha raised her head and forced herself back up to one knee, hand so tight around the hilt of her sword that her whole arm shook.

“You are not the only one who is last,” she snarled, “But unlike you I shall always be alone.” Agony shuddered through her she staggered up to her feet in defiance of the one before her. “Last I may be, but my people do not end here!”

There was a snapping in her mind and the pressure flooded away; her vision cleared and the weight was gone. Devotion and the memory of her people that she held to tightly had proven beyond even the will of the Atherdan to break, had shielded her inner most core and protected her. Beside her Aedmorn was shaking his head as he too stood again.

The Atherdan looked shocked beyond words, beyond memory for never had he met one of the lesser races that could resist him, that could break the pressure of his will upon them. “Children of false gods!” he hissed. “They may aid and shield you but they too shall fall.” With a bound and a leap he was away, scrambling up the wall of the tower to the roof above, in the clouds, out of reach of their weapons.

“Quick, inside!” Aedmorn said, dashing towards a door. Ivkarha stayed behind, looking up, ready and eager to take the fight to the Atherdan.

“We an not let him escape,” she said.

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“He won’t. We can defeat him, but we need to be inside to do it. Quick!”

Amidst the haste of Aedmorn’s words, she could hear certainty; he had a plan and so she nodded and followed him to the door, and inside, back into the chamber which held the seated, unmoving Atherdan.

“Watch the doors,” he said, scurrying across to the body of the one with the bell and the book.

“What are you doing?” Ivkarha asked as she turned about, keen eyes watching the doors, ready for the Eldest should he return.

“While he was in our minds, I saw things,” he explained. “A name, and more. I need to ring the bell.”

She turned suddenly and looked at him, eyes wide. “What? Why?”

“It will take too long to explain now. We have little time. You have to trust me on this.”

She looked at him and could see the resolute determination etched upon his face, the conviction that he was right about his course of action. She read that all in a moment and gave a simple nod; ever was he the voice of reason and she had no grounds for not to trust him, not after all that they had endured together. “Do what you have to,” she said, before returning her gaze to the doors.

Aedmorn snatched up the bell and the book from the hands of the seated Atherdan. Once more the urge came to him to take the bell and ring it as it wished, but he had steeled himself before to resist it. Even so, he knew the risks he was taking, for he could not be certain that the urge was too great for him. His body trembled with an effort to keep from doing it as he ran across to the stone table where the Atherdan child lay, trapped between life and death, of both but neither. She was the key to it all, the source of all their troubles, and their salvation. And, if he had read the visions correct, for herself and her people as well.

He set the book down upon her body and raised the bell on high, desperately struggling to hold back the desire to ring it loud and often, for he knew what would occur should he do so; the sleepers would awaken and their long labours be for naught. No mercy would they show for the one who had shattered their hopes and dreams.

And yet the bell wished to be rung, wished to wake them. He had seen it in the Eldest’s mind as he unleashed its touch upon him; what went one way could also go the other. He had opened himself up in doing so and Aedmorn had retained just enough awareness of himself, just enough strength to touch a mind utterly alien to him. It had been like jumping into a pit that had no end, so vast and ancient as it, and yet there had been touches of thought and memory that he could read, of the desires and designs of the Eldest, plans too dark and horrifying to contemplate, to dwell upon. Everything that could be done to stop him had to be done.

Except there were some limits, just as Ivkarha had said. It could not be done at the expense of an innocent, not by him, not by her.

The Atherdan child had been an innocent, the very last one ever born to the dying Atherdan people, taken into exile by those that wished to a return to the ancient ways, led by the Eldest. It ha been who had led them, he who had caused the tower raised and he who had taken the child and put her to death in a manner most cruel to shroud the skies.

The Eldest wished her truly dead and Aedmorn could not allow it.

With a swing that encompassed all his might, he smashed the bell down upon the book and shattered it.