In the Wake of Titans Prologue

Gentle waves wrapped around the boat making it bob gently in the glistening blue ocean. A cool breeze blew in from behind sending a chill down Dieter Worth's spine.?

What makes a man courageous?

It was a pounding question. A heavy drum beating inside of Dieter’s aching head. It was a question that could not be killed. People better than him and smarter than him had tried to answer the question for hundreds- maybe thousands of years. Since, in truth, the birth of civilization. Was courage ignited by the fires of war, that was perhaps the most common occurrence whereupon courage could rear its ugly head and kill men that were too young to die and even too young to be killers.

Dieter had not found his courage on the battlefield, he did not even consider himself a courageous man. Yet, here he stood on a shitty boat in the calm glistening sea of emerald amidst the isles.?

He feared the sea, the isles and yet he returned again and again.

Did necessity breed courage? There was no answer but another breeze, and the water kicking up against the boat making that soft calm splashing sound. But this sea was different from the others.

The rumble of the boat's engine cut out. Dieter closed his eyes, clenching his fists and felt the gentle cold breeze on his cheeks. The stomach turned in knots and he could taste the acrid recognizable bitterness of bile on his tongue. He swallowed hard a split second before feeling a hand on his shoulder.?He cracked open an eye to stare into a dirty bearded face, a mouth with rows of missing teeth creased into a smile over a leathery face.

“Are you ready?” the voice was more distinguished and refined than what you would have expected to come out of that face. His breath was reeked of day old alcohol and tobacco and his brown eyes red-rimmed as if he had not slept in, what Dieter could only assume, would amount to years. Hayward was a man of infinite contradictions.

War would do that, Dieter supposed.

He looked at the others for a split second. War heroes they had been called, all of them. But all Dieter could see was broken men, was that courage? Living even though something inside was broken? “Ya,” Dieter nodded, trying to find the right words. He wanted to throw up. Then, he always wanted to throw up.

Besides Hayward, there was Nolan and North. Veterans one and all, except Dieter, he had hidden behind a desk during the war, sending young men to die. He had hidden long enough in the mines, working like his father and grandfather had as the young men each disappeared or came back changed and broken.?

Dieter was unremarkable he was not a smart man, he knew that. He had felt a certain sense of joy in working in the darkness of the mines, digging out ore like a dwarf in their towering secretive mountains.

A huge figure moved at the edges of Dieter’s eyes, and his looming shadow made the otherwise cloudless spring day, dark. Samuel Kirby was a presence: narrow slits of emerald green eyes in a hard and weathered but otherwise clean-shaven Rael face. He wore his hair short a remnant of his military years, showing off his pointed ears as if with pride.

Sam Kirby set Dieter on edge. The way he gazed at everything and everyone, assessing and judging with an intensity. He looked no less broken than the others, haunted and yet searching with those emerald eyes.??

“We ready?” he turned a curt nod towards Hayward.

“Locked and loaded, Gunny.”?

“Good. Strap in.” He turned to Dieter who fought to suppress a shiver running down his spine, “You’re sure?”

What makes a man courageous?

Was it facing your fears again and again, even if those fears could fill a book? Perhaps, that was insanity, not courage.

Dieter gave a silent nod swallowing bile at the base of his throat and fought to look directly at Sam Kirby.?

His heart was hammering, hands shaking as he took out the small piece of gemstone shrapnel encircled in a gold medallion. It felt warm to the touch. He wrapped his hands around the medallion and began to say the words. He went into the trance, hands shaking not from fear but from the rumbling force of the medallion as it began to glow, tendrils of purple light shooting from the crevices of his fists.?

The web began to form in front of him, shooting upwards into the air, as if a celestial spider had spun its web across the skies. There was a low rumbling beginning to become louder as he repeated the words again and again. He let go, letting the medallion dangling from his right hand. The light emitting from it became stronger and stronger.

The tendrils of light shot through the air and then landed in the middle of the ocean with loud crackling booms. For him, the crackling was loud, like thunder rolling across the plains of Steidtglass.

He fought to suppress a rising feeling of nausea as he held onto the chain, feeling the shift in the weather along with the power he held in his hands as he chanted. The world shifted around him turning dark. Tendrils, leylines shooting all across the sky. Some were colorless, others cracking with purple energy. He could feel the boat swaying underneath him, but he was standing alone, in absolute darkness. His eyes tracked the glowing tendrils to a place in front of him, a ghostly isle stood silent. A ruin resting upon it, where it seemed only the tower was still standing. Barely.

Light glowed from the top of the tower, a golden light that hummed with power and energy.

He could feel the rawness of it emanating from the isle and from the tower itself. The lines of power convalesced at that particular point, sending crackles of roaring light up into the glowing web. Everything around the isle pulsed and hummed with that purple energy, growing more powerful by the minute. Soon.

He stopped chanting, feeling cold sweat trickle down his forehead into his eyes. He returned to the boat, Sam Kirby was still, one hand resting on his giant revolver in its holster and the other looking out into the distance through binoculars.

“Fuck.”?

Dieter turned his gaze to where Kirby was looking, a ship was on the horizon moving ever closer.

“Gunny, is that what I think it is?”

“So much for doing this quietly.” Sam Kirby put the binoculars down, “How much time to do we have?”

“What is it?” Dieter felt his knees getting weak, resisting the urge to curl into a ball on the deck. He shouldn’t have asked, he knew that. Asking and getting an answer would make it real and he hated making it real.

“An Archon Corvette.” the dread carried through the moment of silence followed by that answer.

There was a loud rumble from far ahead. It had begun. Tendrils like those he had seen crackle in the shadow world extended from a black pit in the middle of the ocean. It felt as if the whole world was sucked in there as if it was taking a deep breath. All sound was deafened and they stood still, moving as if in the darkest pits of the ocean. The world exhaled, pushing water, air, and sound with it back into existence. The boat rocked under harsh waves, Dieter could feel a spray soaking him as he toppled sideways landing roughly on the deck. He could see the purple webs dissipate slowly from the real world as he found his feet with the help of Sam Kirby. The man never seemed to lose his balance. The ghostly isle had formed itself again, standing real and present in the midst of the ocean. Birds crossed and encircled the remaining tower on the isle, and trees almost devoid of color swayed in the breeze.?

A sundered isle had arrived as if it had existed at that exact place since the beginning of time.

“Hayward, Nolan, North,” Sam Kirby was moving away now, “Get your kit, we’re moving in.”

They moved with military precision, they had done this many times and there was not an ounce of fear within them. For Dieter, he could feel his heart pounding, he wasn’t a soldier like these men, hardened by the Five Continent War.

What makes a man courageous?

Dieter knew he was a coward, he had realized that a long time ago and had learned to live with it. Yet, here he was, a coward living in the Sundered Isles.?

By necessity, he lived here, for while he was unremarkable, a miner from the hills of Kehr somehow people had found that he could interact with elven artifacts and that was a valuable rare gift people would kill for. He was what people called a Reader.

He did not live here because he was brave or by some misconception of altruism. He lived here because he wanted to live. Having Sam Kirby as an ally was better than having him as an enemy.

“Worth,” Kirby had his revolver out, spinning the revolver cylinder of the Colossus slowly followed by loud clicks. “How long do we have?”

Dieter licked his lips, calculating, “No more than an hour, I would say.” determining how long the isle would exist was an inexact science of determining the power of the ley lines running through. A second off the mark and it could mean they would disappear with the isle, wherever they went. No one had returned from that.

“Alright, in and out, we know what we came here for, the mission stays the same.”?

Hayward, Nolan, North all nodded, Dieter too, though it was more an automatic response, he had looked away, the eyes looking to the horizon seeing the Archon corvette coming closer with every second.

“Here.” North had moved up close holding out a pistol to Dieter. “Just in case.” he shrugged. North was younger than the others with an easy smile on a patchy bearded face. Dieter took the pistol by the handle and pocketed it. He wondered whether he was meant to use it on himself or on others. He did not like either scenario.

He heard the boat rumble into motion. His hands had become slick with sweat, and he feared the gun would slip out of his grasp if he attempted to use it.

What makes a man courageous??

The drum kept beating inside his head accompanied by the boat’s engineer in a strange symphony as it moved closer to the silent sundered isle.?

The sand beneath Dieter’s feet felt like any other, however the strange lack of…. color. His feet had become soggy from hitting the water and walking the last few feet up on dry land. The others were keeping low, walking ahead cradling their rifles almost like they were children, but these children could kill and the men holding them could react without a moment’s notice. Dieter could feel the weight of the pistol in his pocket, dragging himself down so as each step he took felt as if he walking in quicksand. The isle was silent, trees moved barely, devoid of color as if it was a picture That had come to life. There were jagged edges of the ruins rising above the treeline. He could see the clean white stone with the ruined edges and the tower screaming albeit silently behind. He could just about discern the cracks lining up against the tower as if it could crumble at any time. It was a remnant of what had come before the sundering, that much Dieter knew. He had heard of, even seen old sailing ships with lines of cannons from hundreds of years ago appear shipwrecked on an isle untouched by the ravages of time, apart from weird unearthly vegetation of colorless plants crackling with strange energy growing in the cracks of the ships.

Dark shadowed trees loomed as they neared, Kirby motioned to the left and each man moved with precision, Hayward had his rifle raised and he disappeared into a thicket of gnarled bushes, the leaves seemed dead dry and blackened as if burnt to a crisp. He motioned for Dieter to follow, with Kirby himself taking the rear guard.??

They found themselves on a cracked overgrown road, plants and trees covering most of the track leading up to the tower.

There couldn’t be more than a couple of hundred yards to the tower, minus the walk up the stairs, but each step on a sundered isles was inviting death.

Things lived wherever the isles were and often they took those things back into the world of Oan.

What makes a man courageous?

Something shifted in a bush five feet ahead, North moved, raising his weapon with lightning quick reflexes. His trigger finger twitching slightly. The others stood still and wanted for North’s reaction.

A flash of memory surged within Dieter, meeting a Grahl for the very first time. Yellow leathery-skinned creatures of filed teeth and shrieking voices that would jump out of the dead trees and bushes to tear at his flesh.

He had seen one man die like that, Franklin, old and seasoned but he never had a chance as five grahls tore at him, ripping out his throat before Kirby had pulled Dieter away from the bloody scene.

“Nothing. Move.” Kirby’s deep voices was a whisper, Dieter could feel his and his revolvers presence behind him, and it did not soothe him as much as it should. There were other things out to kill you when you were on the isles and the world did not lack in that department. Then there was the Archon corvette like a wolf snapping at their heels as they ran into a figurative fire.?

He found his feet moving one foot in front of the other, sweat was running from his forehead down his cheek. There was a shriek, and a bird landed on a branch ahead, the wings leaking shadow and darkness, the eyes burned with a purple fire as it craned its head peering down from the branch.

It turned its gaze toward Dieter before cawing almost like a shrill laugh before it spread its wings and flew into the air.

Darkened trees turned to an overgrown courtyard, broken stone from buildings and other remnants of a lost civilization were strewn across the place. Dieter’s eyes caught a moldy doll lying by an overturned wooden bench, the eyes missing as it lay limbless. There was nothing left of the previous inhabitants but for that ruined tower and a once loved doll lying abandoned amidst an overgrown courtyard.?Kirby stepped past Dieter and froze in place. His back tense and muscles bulging in his arms. Dieter peaked around Kirby to see what had made him stop in his tracks For some strange reason Dieter had completely missed the body that lay slumped over on a intricate wooden bench. His clothes were torn, blotches of old blood splashed across his legs, torso and naked muscular arms. There was no seemingly smell of rot and the body itself had not begun to decompose. His head hung limply forward, As did one arm resting against the edge of the bench. A discarded gun lay on the floor below the limp arm.

Kirby stepped forward moving with determination, but there something that made Dieter think that he for a brief moment was afraid. That this body had shaken the core of the unshakable Samuel Kirby. The other hand lay flat on the bench, palm up with a wooden trinket resting in it. As if the body was waiting for someone to take it from him.

Kirby crouched, sighing heavily.

“Sam?” North was looking back to see what was happening.

Kirby gently lifted the body’s head and looked into the lifeless eyes.?

Dieter could see the man was a Rael, muscular with dark black hair with splotches of white. Lines age creased his face where a black bushy beard had not grown.?

Kirby reached out taken the wooden pendant from the open palm holding it gently in his right hand.

“Someone you know, Sarge?” Nolan and North had watched the proceedings quietly, they too noting the unusual behaviour of Kirby as he gently laid the man down on the bench with hands folded across his chest.

“No.” Kirby lied he got back to his feet, looking at the wooden pendant in his hand before his stashed it in one of his many pockets.

Dieter?looked away from death focusing on the the looming tower that cast a long shadow across the courtyard, standing calm and still, the whiteness untouched by time, the cracks colored purple under the sunlight.Often, Dieter wondered about the inevitability of it all. The fight to preserve life and civilization instead of letting it be swallowed up by the Abyss. Perhaps, there was nothing awaiting the living but to disappear as the elves had. Their legacy surging in and out of existence through the force of magical convergence.

What makes a man courageous?

Was it to fight even though losing was always the only outcome?

“How long do we have?” Kirby was now hard at ignoring the dead body laid to rest on upon the bench he had died one., Hayward and North were on their knees, Nolan crouched behind cover, his fingers idly tapping the grip.

“Five minutes, we’re going with the Murphy’s Law Principle. They have to move through the isle from the southside. Who knows what weird shit goes on there.” Hayward shrugged, he had unslung his second rifle from his shoulder, setting the scope into place before slamming the magazine in and loading.

“Alright, set up here and here.” Kirby pointed in random directions, “Hayward, you’re with us.?With any luck, you can find a good elevated position.” He turned to Nolan and North, “you know what to do.”

“Worth, let’s move.”?

His legs felt heavy. For Dieter, a dilapidated tower of elven origin was the definition of hell. Perhaps he had died somewhere, and now this was his never-ending punishment of returning again and again to places that promised riches, but mainly served death.?

He remembered a man’s legs flying in one direction and the rest of the body in another in a shower of blood as he had stepped on a hidden rune. As always, Dieter kept his fears quiet and took out the medallion in his pocket, feeling the warm reaction to the suppressed magical energy swirling around them. The world turned a shade darker, he could still see Kirby’s giant back moving ahead of him up the stairs, or hear the slow breath of Hayward behind him, even smell the faint whiff of the lit cigarette in Hayward’s mouth.?

Minutes… or hours, time became inconsequential and all Dieter could feel was the hammering heart in his chest, and the sweat trickling down his forehead and spine.?

“Gunny-” Hayward had stopped, pointing at a white-stone platform to the left of the stairs. The last remnants of a statue standing half-crumbled, beneath the angular base it had once stood on. Sharp prickly vines had wrapped around it. The booted feet and legs halfway up the thigh were left. The vines snaking carefully around them from top to bottom. Dieter’s eyes caught the decapitated head lying on the ground, the ears were gone as were most of the hair…. But the eyes were untouched. Unblinking marble eyes that stared into oblivion.

What makes a man courageous?

Was it to stare into the great blackness, the oblivion of death and not blink??

Hayward nodded, unslung his scoped rifle and found a place to lean up against the base of the statue, crouched he raised the rifle and his world disappeared into the scope.

“Worth.” Sam Kirby’s deep voice cut like a razor blade, and Dieter turned away from Hayward to look upwards, the cracked steps seemed endless and the tower unassailable, he clenched his fist over the medallion and disappeared into the darkness once more, seeing the crackling light coming from the tower windows. Their steps were careful. There had been no invisible arcane runes inscribed into the steps, as far as Dieter could see, but the elves had been a ruthless canny people not only relying on powerful arcana but on more practical traps as well. Spears skewering, razor blades cutting, darts poisoning. All of it promising slow inevitable death.

They finally reached the end of the stairs in silence, there was only the smallest whisper of the breeze and Dieter’s heavy breath.?

Light cut through the edges of the old wooden door into the tower, gleaming light that was cut short and then a moment later regained its glow. It was strange, no hidden runes, nor dangerous traps had appeared as they had walked up the stairs, somehow that made the dread worse.?

Sam stepped aside letting Dieter pass, he tentatively stepped forward muttering ancient words under his mouth as he moved the medallion in his hand up and down against the door.?

Apart from blinking twice,?Dieter froze, the hum of the medallion clutched in his hand.?

“What?” Sam Kirby's voice was distorted, fractured.?

Dieter let go, letting the world turn to color again, the blue skies, the white clouds, trees below swaying in the breeze.?

The words were caught for a moment in his throat before he managed to utter them slowly and carefully, “There is nothing behind this door.” often he could see the contours, edges of tables, chairs, elven paraphernalia that had been untouched, but behind this door there was nothing but the pulsating light and swallowing darkness.

“Nothing?” it seemed Kirby chewed on that word for a moment. He looked down, he looked to the sun and swore under his breath, “Fuck.”?

“I am unsure what that means, Kirby.” he licked his lips, tasting salty sweat that trickled down from his nose. “If we pass through it, I am not sure where we are.”

“Nothing makes sense here, Worth.” his giant hand tightened around the grip of The Colossus.?

Gunfire cracked through air, repeatedly in short and controlled bursts, then a louder one, presumably from Hayward rifle. Even though they were far away, Dieter could feel the surging energies of magic being cast out from the below. a tree had caught fire before quickly toppling down.?

A flare shot up into the sky, orange smoke trailing after the light. Dieter knew what it meant: The others at the bottom were dead.

“I have to.”?Kirby almost sounded sorry, almost scared, he looked apologetically towards Dieter. He knew what he meant, they had made it this far. Kirby had in the blink of an eye lost friends and if they didn’t enter that door they had died for nothing. Strange how quickly things could turn.

There were stories of what the arcane magicks of the Archon could do in regards to torture. Dieter had heard them all and seen their reverberating effect on men coming home broken beyond repair.?It was said they could cram in a thousand years of torture into a single moment and keep you alive in the meantime.

They would not kill Dieter, he knew that much. They would string him up, lock him and test him like a strange guinea pig for his abilities.

Perhaps it was necessity that made a man courageous.

“Then let us go-” he swallowed hard, gripping the dark iron handle of the door with his free hand.

He closed his eyes, not knowing whether Kirby was following him or not.

“KIRBY!” there was a gargle and single gunshot that rang through Dieter’s ears. He pushed the handle down and entered the darkness.

Silence for several heartbeats followed, then a drawn breath from beside Dieter. Reluctantly he opened his eyes. He half turned to see Kirby standing beside him. He gave Dieter a silent nod before turning back. The ground beneath them was solid, but they were standing in oblivion, a great nothingness. All sound seemed muted as if he had activated the medallion, but it was cool to his touch almost painfully so. He could see a few feet in front of him as clear as day. Behind him though, there was no door left. No way to escape.?

Far ahead into the darkness a light slowly appeared, suddenly introduced by a simple click. The golden light formed as if a protective bubble around a small amount of space, where a singular large recliner stood, a small table on its right and a long cylindrical lamp on its left. Though where the electrically charged lamp got its power from was a mystery.

A shadowed figure sat relaxed in the chair, one arm resting on its armrest, the other outstretched toward the lamp.

Click.

The light disappeared again.

Click.

And there was light.

Dieter could just about discern the shadowed figure's head move his focus from the lamp to stare in his and Kirby’s general direction.

Click

Darkness.

“Heh-” an amused grunt echoed, and the figure cracked a broad grin and despite the darkness showed a row of perfect unnaturally white grin. “Fascinating thing.” There was nothing open or warm about that smile, instead, it sent shivers down Dieter’s spine. Resisting an urge to vomit, to scream to run to hide. For as dark as it was there seemed to be no place to hide.

Kirby took two steps forward, The Colossus raised, his finger on the trigger.

“Please, ” the figure said. “No reason to play the barbarian here, Rael.” the pronunciation was strangely tilted, with a harsh guttural undertone.

Click.

The light reappeared, this time suddenly and so close it burned Dieter’s eyes, blinding him for a brief moment. He blinked, head reeling. He could just about see Kirby doing the same.?

Dieter slowly regained his sight. The figure was now sitting only a few feet from where they stood, his fingers touching the front of his chest, the smile still spread over a pale face. He was dressed in an archaic navy uniform that seemed pristine, newly pressed, the dark blue coated draped over his broad shoulders. A well-groomed goatee was wrapped around his smiling mouth, the tips of his mustache with bent tips at the edge of his mouth.?

Intense burning eyes of crimson stared as if discerning Dieter’s soul. He seemed like a large man, muscular, though not as large as Sam Kirby.?

His face was long and narrow, with shoulder-length obsidian hair slicked back, two semi-large horns protruding from his forehead. His ears were tipped, like an elf, or a Rael. His face was cut up with diagonal and vertical scars. A broad broken nose sat beneath those intense eyes and above that dangerous smile. It was the smile, Dieter feared the most.

Kirby regained his equilibrium and raised his revolver, the hammer cocked back with a loud thunderous click.

The figure waved his hand with a flick of the wrist and a snort, “please.”?

Kirby’s arm froze midway through aiming, unmoving despite grunts of exertion that came from the base of his throat.?

“I implored you not to act as a barbarian, Rael, yet you pointed a gun at your gracious host?” the rebuke was harsh and guttural, the eyes narrowed, the smile was gone and turned into a straight displeased mouth. “I invoke the protection of guests. You shall not come to harm.”?

Even though he seemed truthful in that, somehow it not assuage Dieter’s fears.?

The figure’s eyes turned without blinking, his head tilting slightly to one side transfixed on the revolver in Kirby’s hands.

“Fascinating.” he repeated the same phrase as before, the smile coming back, “such craftsmanship and improvement.” he moved a hand with slow grace picking up an ancient ornate flintlock pistol from the table, turning it over in his hand.

“The damn midgets really improved their design.” he took a deep breath putting the flintlock back upon the table, letting his fingertips rest against each other, and leaned back so that the upper part of his face turned back into the shadows.

“Now. Please indulge me, I do not get many visitors.” he shrugged, “sure, the creatures do give me offerings… gifts... after eating any who pass through, of course. Alas,” he released his hands holding them tight to his chest and wiggled them while making a face that would not be uncommon upon parents playing with children, “these ‘gifts’” his voice changed to a simple guttural comedic voice on the word gifts, “are usually half eaten thighs. Although I do sometimes get lucky.” he extended a hand toward the lamp. “However, live visitors are the rarest gift of all.” he smiled again.

Small invisible knives stabbed into Dieter’s back. “Will you kill us?” he hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but there it was. His voice talking to this man sitting relaxed in a recliner, in total darkness.

“No.” the reply was deep and assured, the crimson eyes narrowed. “Not today, I think- If I offer you a drink and my name, will you tell me yours?” He eyes shifted to focus solely on Dieter. “Do you think our barbaric friend here has learned his lesson?”

Dieter did not have time to answer as the man snapped his fingers, and another table appeared replacing the old one in a puff of smoke. Three mugs sat on it, as well as an earthenware jug. “I apologize, the only thing I have is this… dubious grog. But I do feel it would be fitting to toast to our new friendship.” he popped the cork and poured into each mug, and with the other hand snapped his fingers again.

Kirby began to move. The Colossus lowered, but not holstered, he took a wary step back to stand beside Dieter again.

“Now, a name.” he reached out his hands with two filled mugs. “You can call me- Well I think Roger will suffice.”

“Huh,” Kirby grunted, “Roger?” Kirby took one of the jugs with a careful hand.

“Yes, now that I have given you a name, will you return the favor?”

Some cultures believed that names had power and to know the name of a person meant they held sway over them. Many elderly in Steidtglass still held their names close to their chest because of that belief. Dieter had never given it much stock, but now looking at the man sitting as a god of darkness it seemed unwise to utter anything. Then again angering him seemed even more unwise. It appeared to be Dieter’s lot in life to be pressed between two terrible choices.

“Gunnery Sergeant Samuel M. Kirby.” Kirby twisted slightly and then extended his long broad arm in Dieter’s direction.

“Dieter Worth of Steidtglass.”????

“Does Dieter Worth of Steidtglass, not drink?” Roger jiggled the remaining jug in his hand letting the liquid content splash over the edge.

Dieter took a tentative step forward taking the offered jug in his hand.?

“Good man,” Roger raised his own jug and smiled, “Now we are friends. Tehendil!”?

“Movaderas.” Kirby gestured with the mug before taking a sip.

Dieter held the mug for a split second looking at the dark liquid, it certainly smelled alcoholic. He drank, though not deeply, feeling the burn of the grog running down his throat and through his entire body pounding with reassuring confidence.

“OPEN THAT DAMN DOOR!” Ghostly white apparitions appeared out in the darkness, like a flimsy and defective film reel, the moving figures crackling and disappearing. There were five of them moving around the vague shape of the door Kirby and Dieter had entered.

“They are such bores these Archons.” Roger raised an annoyed brow, “but for all their might they will not be able to enter. You are safe here.” He paused, “To new friends.” he drank again before setting the mug gently down on the table. He pointed a long thick finger in Kirby’s direction, “you speak the language of the elves.”

“I speak some rael.”

“Close enough.” his head turned sideways for a brief second, he shook it as he clicked his tongue. “Strange beasts the rael, elves fucking with seafaring giants. You are simple, to the point that the guile and ambition of the elves have been bred out of you.”

“That is perhaps why we are dying.” There was a sad tinge to Kirby’s admission, but no less true, even a man like Dieter could see it. Rael land had been invaded for a thousand years for the riches of the elven ruins, they had been set aside, made inconsequential in the grand scheme of things and at times even exterminated due to greed.

“Sad, but I find that hard to believe. Life, civilization is not a straight line or merely a continuous rise. Everyone falls. The Rael I knew were proud and honorable.” this was the first time in which Roger seemed earnest, the malice emanating from him had diminished and there was a twinge of sadness to the crimson eyes. It made him no less scary. “Everything that falls, can rise. Can soar.” He pointed towards Dieter, “look at these sad fucks.” he grunted a short guttural laugh “I guess I am an eternal optimist.”

“Do you often invite people here for a philosophy lesson? Or is there a point.” Kirby was still holding his mug but had not taken another swill. He seemed reticent, yet unafraid, curious.

“A point?” Roger leaned forward in his recliner, “I am bored. Boredom breeds philosophy and pointless actions.” he drew in a sharp breath, clicking his tongue again, “Though, as we are now newly minted friends I must admit a certain sense of curiosity to your frightened friend over there. You are in crude terms a slice of ancient history, a footnote personified-” he paused for dramatic effect probably, “An example of how something can truly and deeply fall… with a small-” Roger pushed outwards with his fingers, “push.”

“Your point then.”

“Swords have points, I have curiosity.” he leaned forward, eyes leaving the edge of the shadow into the golden light cast off the lamp. He did not blink and it seemed as if he studied Dieter for an eternity. “How does it work?”

Dieter had no true answer. Like a person rolling their tongue inside their mouth, the wiggling of the ears, or the flaring of the nostrils or merely breathing, he just could. Often the convergences of the Sundered Isles could call to him, like an old man complaining of a sore knee and proclaiming rain because of it, but to explain how he closed his eyes or for a brief second, transporting his whole being into a world of roaring storms of magic and isles appearing midst a sea… fucked if he knew.?

“Perhaps, I was unjust in asking you that question.” Roger tapped the bridge of his nose.

Tap?

Tap

“I can tell you, ” he shifted in his recliner, “It is the blood that calls, ancient blood running through your veins. Is that not a pleasant thought. That you are more than yourself, you stand for everyone that preceded you.”?

Dieter did not relish the thought of a legacy to uphold. Yet, if Roger was talking truly he was already standing in the midst of the Sundered isles.

Roger turned his attention to Sam, “As for you, Gunnery Sergeant Samuel M. Kirby, there is a stink on you that seems familiar but that I cannot quite place.”

“I showered this morning.”?

“The giant is glib, fancy that.” Roger stole a stare towards Dieter.?

“I asked you before, but now I am losing my patience: What the fuck do you want?” Kirby gripped The Colossus tighter in his grip.

Roger seemed unfazed, slightly amused even. “As I have said, I was curious, and opportunities to make new friends is… rare.” He paused, drawing in his breath, “Although I do want to give you a gift from friend to friend.” Another glance towards Dieter.

To Dieter, the idea of a gift sounded ominous, a gift that would more likely destroy than it would be a boon.

What makes a man courageous?

Dieter was inclined to believe it was speaking to this man in the recliner and not die from fear.

Roger found his feet, summoning out of the smoky shadow a simple wooden cane with a silvery dragon’s head. The cane made a noisy tap as Roger took a step closer towards Dieter. With his free hand, he snapped his fingers freezing Kirby in place.?

Crimson eyes flared as if on fire, his broad smile was fixed in place. His free hand reached out for Dieter who had slowly taken tentative steps back, sweat dripping down his forehead.?

Shadow burned from the tips of Roger’s fingers,?

“Be calm.” he implored, but there was nothing calm about it. The burning hand rested itself on Dieter’s chest. His heart was hammering, his blood was almost boiling in his veins, tears streaming from his eyes, blood running down from his nose so he could taste it on his lips.?He could smell the burning of his clothes and hair on his chest. Roger gave him small push, sending him backward, dizzy from the continuous sensation that suffused through his body.?

“You may leave.” Roger was walking away, he gave them a small wave. The officer’s coat trailing after him into the darkness. The echoing tap of the dragon’s head cane echoing again and again.?

It seemed if he walked for ages until leaving Kirby and Dieter alone in darkness. He felt drained, moving a finger was hard labor.

He felt the rough contours of wood against his cheek, drool had dribbled from his mouth along with blood. He realized his eyes were closed, he opened them, wiping away sweat, tears, and blood with a sleeve. He moved his head away from the wooden door he had leaned against.

“Worth…” Sam Kirby pulled him to his feet which felt wobbly beneath him.

“What-” Dieter could barely utter any words.

“I have no idea, all I know is we have to get away. Can you walk?”?

He could stand on his legs, weak as they were, his head swam, but it was dissipating slowly. “Yes.”

“Good.” Kirby nodded, “Let’s go.” without warning he gripped the door handle, pushing it down and opening up the door into the light. He almost dragged Dieter through. The light blinded him, the sun cutting through white clouds above them. A cool breeze had never felt as welcome as it did at that moment.

“Stop!” Shapes of men began to take shape, a man in front was dressed in an Archon’s officer uniform.?

The rough clay texture of six mimics spread out to either side of him, their rifles leveled in Kirby and Dieter’s general direction. He could just about see the shape of the Chained one, and its handler standing behind the line of armed men.

“What did you see?” The Archon officer was not armed, but his fingers were in constant motion, flexing and trickling.?

“I’ve had enough conversation for one day.” Kirby raised The Colossus and fired. The roar was loud, closer to cannon fire from a frigate, the world flashed from the muzzle and the Archon officer’s head exploded into bits of bone, brain, and blood. He was flung backward, the rest of his body landed at the feet of the chained one with blood spurting out of his neck.

The Mimics trained their guns toward Kirby, who had pulled the hammer back ready to fire again as voices cut out from down below.

“KRAKEN!”?

The second roar was not from the Colossus but rather an animalistic tortured scream as dark tentacles made of smoky shadows pushed itself through the forest of colorless trees. Screaming its way closer toward the tower plateau.

The mimics turned their rifles away, the chained one eyes’ glowing as it let the mimics open fire wildly against the roaring monster coming closer.

“Worth- GO!” Kirby pushed Dieter towards the stairs, an opening had appeared as a single tentacle had sent the chained one’s handler flying into a crown of trees. The entire world was a flash of gunfire, repeated cracks of the mimics rifles, and the sad cry of the Kraken. Worth ran, he heard the heavy footsteps of Kirby behind him as they descended the stairs.

They passed Hayward’s body, a bloody wound in his forehead, his eyes wide open, just left there to rot.

Two archon mages, magic crawling up their arms met them halfway, looking up in surprise as Kirby shot twice in quick succession. One crumbled with a big hole in his chest, the other one flying from the recoil over the edge of the stairs.

“Don’t look back, keep going.” Kirby pushed Worth into moving again, despite Kirby’s warning he stole a glance over his shoulder. Kirby had been right, he should not have looked back.

The Kraken had wrapped its shadowy tentacles around the tower, using the free ones as giant whips slashing down onto the ground. Streams of fire and lightning crackled from the base of the stairs, from the archon mages, Sam and Dieter would soon meet at the end of their descent.

“AH!” Kirby screamed, it seemed as if in pain and it made Dieter stop in his tracks. He really did not want to, yet he looked again, seeing the Kraken's tentacle wrapped around Kirby’s left leg, “Keep going!” it pulled, sending Kirby flying into the air, his arms flailing until the Kraken let go and sent him flying away.

Sam Kirby was gone, that thought was a blow to Dieter, a huge fist rammed into his stomach.

The Colossus had been dropped on the steps, Dieter bent down, the world seemed to move in slow motion, though the noise of gunfire and magic still rumbled through the air. The revolver felt heavy, too heavy in his hands. His tired muscles burned, yet he picked up the Colossus clutching it close to his sore chest and ran.

The world around him was a blur of magic and blood spraying onto the ground, bushes and trees. He clutched the Colossus tighter in his arms, his legs carrying him away from the danger that seemed intent on ignoring him. Twigs broke underneath his feet as he dove into the forest, thorns scraped at him and drew blood on his arms, face, and legs, and still, he ran. The hardened ground underneath him finally turned to sand, giving way under his booted feet. The low visibility of the trees gave way to the calm seas of the Sundered Isles. Their boat swaying gently in the small waves.

The cry of death from beyond the forest was ongoing, gunfire and death throes continued.

He suddenly felt his medallion burning in his pocket. With one hand he took it out, letting it rest in the palm of his hand.

The world shifted, the darkness returned sending shadows from the trees, sea, and boat everywhere. The blackened night crackled once more with fluorescent purple lightning.

He pocketed the medallion and ran five steps, stopping as he heard a soft groan and a giant but bloody hand sticking up over a small dune.

Dieter crossed it, hands wrapped around the Colossus again, as he looked down.?

Sam Kirby was spread across a dark granite stone, one arm was broken, his left leg gone and pulsating massive amounts of blood out onto the stone. One single eye was crooked and bloody, he spat blood, his teeth colored red.

“Jack-” he sputtered, blood gurgling at the base of his throat. He held out the wood pendant he had found on the body at the base of the tower. He knew what it was now, a Rael keepsake, that they valued highly in their culture. A lakka-wood pendant edged with their soul name.

Dieter stepped closer, almost tripping in the shifting sands, knowing full well the island could disappear any minute, but this time he felt no fear, rather he felt a need to finish something.?

“I have your revolver.” He reached out to put it on Sam Kirby’s chest.

“No! Jack-tell her I’m sorry.” he coughed up more blood. The light in his eyes dimming. He pushed the pendant into Dieter’s free hand.

“Who’s Jack?” Dieter pulled the revolver close again, fighting down the tingling urge coming from his legs to run as fast as he could. Eyes were rolling around in Kirby's head. His deep voice was weak, “Jack Kirby." It was no name that rang any bell for Dieter, not that it truly mattered. A brother perhaps, sharing the same last name as Sam Kirby. But it did not matter for the moment, but there was no sense in ignoring a dying man’s request.?

“GO!” He growled. That last command had been summoned from the last remnants of Kirby’s power as he looked directly into Dieter’s eyes, his green eyes flaring for a brief second.

Dieter turned, one foot was lifted and he was about to leave but there was something that felt wrong. He sighed heavily, taking out the medallion from his pocket and pressed it into Sam’s hand. He said nothing, but Kirby nodded and closed his fist around it. Dieter had no clue as to what good it would do. But it was something. A trade, the Lakka-wood pendant for the Elven coin. It felt in Dieter’s mind right.

The sky rumbled in unison with the Kraken. The purple lightning of the leylines had begun to pierce through the veil, streaming through the sky above Dieter.?

With the last energy, he ran to the boat, water splashing up to his knees as he crawled in and grabbed the oars. He silently began to row, eyes staring ahead as the light was bent by the black hole in the middle of the island. The Archon troops had finally quieted, there was one last roar from the Kraken and then all sound disappeared as the whole world was sucked towards the pierced veil. Lightning jumped past Dieter as he rowed, breath heavy, sweat cascading down his face, back and his hands becoming slick and callused.

He could just about see where Sam Kirby lay. He had raised a hand in goodbye.

The island disappeared with a strange pop that calmed the waters in an instant, leaving Dieter’s rowboat bobbing up and down.

There was nothing left, nobody to mourn, no marker where Dieter could know that that was where Nolan, North, and Hayward died. No place to bury them, there was merely the sea, their bodies carried into the deep darkness that lay on the other side. They would lie on the other side of those crackling spider-webs that recalled the Elven Empire back to Oan. Untouched in death like the body on the bench. Unless eaten by the creatures that lived in the dark abyss.?

From that abyss, he had been given a gift or a curse. He could feel it thrumming inside of him. Like a living creature rushing through his bloodstream. He touched his chest, which stung with pain from his touch, a burning mark of Roger’s hand was left there. What power lay inside of him, he wondered, and yet, he was afraid to find out.

The Colossus lay beside him in the boat, heavy and unmoving. The pendant safetly tucked away in his pocket.

“Jack Kirby...” he muttered it under his breath. A name. A mission. A promise and a trade.

He rowed amidst the gentle blue sea of the Sundered Isles.

What makes a man courageous?

It was everything and nothing.

Sometimes it was to be a witness: To witness the courageous men’s inevitable deaths, flee and recount their tales.

It was a better answer than silence.