The Skysail Treasure Co.

There was a purpose and determination in the way Drice stood that most common sailors didn't show. What he'd found out about the man and his sister since he'd agreed to provide them sanctuary was virtually nothing. And yet the man displayed an oddly familiar presence to Gabe, like he already understood his ways, as soon as he found out what those were. He was resolved to doing so was this escapade was over.

"A plan is only as good as the paper its written on until it starts, but so far you haven't told us what we are really getting into. How strong is this Packu whatever? And how many of the locals should we be expecting to rush to his aide. Its my experience that usually these power hungry leaders tend to have a few like minded individuals that wont want us just instilling a new government."

A soldier didn't need the why, just what the job was, how to do it, and when. Drice looked like any old common brute, and had surprised Gabe with the fact that he had thought about the finer points of the plan. From his look, Gabe had thought the most thinking he did was deciding whether to kill people with his left or right sword. Judging by their being on this island, something had happened, and recently, and it had give the intimidating fighter a new perspective on things.

Drice alluded to his past a bit, but Gabe thought it better to question him later, "Trust me," he said smile, "I think the same way. Unfortunately, I really don't know what we're getting into or how strong Pu'aki is. However, most power hungry folk don't like sharing, so if he has an inner circle it's probably relatively small. From the sounds of it, the general populace is just unaware of what is really taking place."

Gabe mulled over the scenarios in his head quickly, "We go in passive. If we come in with swords drawn and looking hostile no one will believe us. Being calm and letting Weka'u speak the truth is the best bet. Then we push, gently. Get Pu'aki to make the first move against us. He'll have exposed himself and given our claims legitimacy."

"From there, we push him out of the village. If a showdown takes place, I want it to happen away from where innocent people can be hurt. After that..." he drifted away inhaling deeply, "Your guess is as good as mine as to what the outcome will be."

"If you do have any bright ideas though, now's the time."

Just then Cyradis came running up to him. Her eyes looked puffy and pink, like she'd been crying or was about to cry. "I'm sorry, Gabe, I've had enough war for one lifetime," she dropped her head slightly and ran off below deck before he even had a chance to say anything.

In the direction where she'd come from was Archamae, who wore a guilty and pained expression like she was confessing to a priest. What the hell is going on? And why the hell did it have to happen now?

"Sorry Drice, I need to go figure out what's going on." He hurriedly made his way into the Dawn's belly and found Cyradis' quarters.

"Cyr," he called evenly into the door, but received no reply. "Cyr!" he tried again, louder this time, but still nothing. When he tried to turn the knob he found it locked, luckily he'd anticipated that. Removing a small ring of keys from inside his vest, he placed one into the door and turned it and the knob all in one motion, and waltzed quickly into the room before the mage had time to react.

Cyradis had gone into a full meltdown, and look disheveled on top of her pillow, and more than a bit startled to see him standing there.

"What? You think I don't have keys to all the locks on board my own ship." She rolled her eyes and planted her face firmly back against her pillow, clearly unhappy with the obvious answer.

"I'm sorry to intrude on you like this, but we don't have time for whatever this is. You need to talk to me and help me figure this out, because we," he paused for a second, "...I need you to come with us and support us. I'm not sure what we're getting ourselves into, but I know it always power way beyond what I and what most of the rest of us possess. Without you, we won't last long out there." He let that last line stew for a moment, "Talk to me Cyr. Please."

Cyradis lifted herself into a sitting position. Gabe, at risk of injury or death, had given her little choice in her options. She really had nowhere to go and be alone, other than the jungle. Recent events there tended to direct her away from the increasingly hostile interior of the island.

Her eyes were puffy and a little red when she turned them to Gabe, "I don't want to talk about it, captain." The look on Gabe's face gave her effortless attempt to get him to leave her alone no chance of success. She sighed and rose to her feet, crossing the room to the door. She pushed the apparantly useless barrier shut and moved back past Gabe to her dresser.

"Do you know what it means to be a Kellan, Gabe?" Cyradis wiped her eyes, now significantly less inflamed, and pulled open her top drawer. From within, she took out a small metal box. "You've been to Kell. Do you remember who greeted you there?" She opened the box and lifted a round object attached to a sturdy chain from within it. "It was legionaries with armor and weapons and glares on thier faces. Anywhere else in the world you'd be greeted by a fat porter with nothing on his mind but money or what might be of vlaue in your cargohold."

Cyradis stepped up to Gabe and held out the object she was holding. She placed the round, glowing medal into his waiting palm, "That is the Kellei University's highest honor, the Seal of Karatam." The medal was a simple silver ring, but when held to the light, the ring acted as a focus of the latent magical energy in all things. As Gabe lifted the medal, it sprang in to life, casing glowing rays of almost every color from its center.

"I was awarded that after graduating to the rank of Arch Magus." Gabe's attention was drawn away from the medal as the words left her mouth, but Cyradis' eyes were lowered when he sought to meet them. Finally, she met his gaze and took a deep breath. After all that resolve to tell him, how was it that she would would be impulsively open only after learning one of her closest friends was her sworn enemy?

"Archmae is Dominion. I trust I do not need to explain what that means to a Kellan officer. Her birthplace is not her fault, and so far, she's done nothing to suggest she is my enemy, but you must understand. Kell and Dominia are still at war. The fighting may have stopped for some time now, but it is not over. They will attack again, and when they do, I can't afford to have a friend among thier ranks."

Cyradis reclaimed her medal and returned it to the drawer. She sat back on her bed and closed her eyes, swallowing hard. "Until I figure out where I am with Archamae, I can't trust myself to use magic. Control is key, and in my current state, I would likely do more harm than help. I can't even get the medal to glow..."

She sighed and looked back at Gabe, "Now, if you're satisfied, I'd like to be alone for a while."

...

The wind spoke softly through the leaves gathering momentum. A slight chill ran down the youth's spine. Two years he had been training. Two years he had dedicated himself to the principles of death. All of it rested upon this moment. He stilled himself, pushing the fear away he would not fail. He would not break his promise. Today he would be reborn, today he would recover his name.

The setting sun hid behind the old man. Berak frowned watching the youth. He huffed and pulled a long slender box from behind him. "Today you enter this room a boy, you will leave in the arms of the goddess or you will be reborn as a Maktah. Only you can decide it. Do not have it said that you have not been armed either here..." he pocked the youth in the head, "...or here..." he pocked him again in the chest and paused. "Or here." he opened the box revealing two long knives.

"These are the twin blades, life and death. The Zorlin shapes that your own father once weilded. Today the past will to see you to your future." The youth tentaviley ran his fingers upon the hilt of the blades in awe of the craftsmanship...they had been his fathers? But...it only mattered if he lived. He could ask then.

Berak nodded to a small building behind him. "Within this building is your first contract. Four souls reside in the building behind me. They are cons sentenced to death." he paused taking in the youth. "One of them is innocent. Your fate is in your hands. Succeed and you will be reborn, fail and you will die and they will be set free. Go boy..."

The youth took a deep breath steadying himself. Pulling the twin blades from their resting place he stalked towards the building finding the weapons remarkeably similar in weight and balance as the training sticks Berak had drilled him. Was it coincidence or had the old man given him extra help? Again it was another question one that did nothing but distract him from the situation at hand.

One was innocent...three guilty. But how was he supposed to know which one? How could he tell? He doubted it would be as easy as them announcing themselves. He cleared his thoughts. If he failed his life would end and Cailey...

With a snarl he kicked open the door tucking and diving into a roll as a bolt shot outside. He heard someone curse and then the rest became confusion in battle. He came out of his roll and slashed catching one of the cons by surprise and twisting one of the shapes through his rib cage. With a vicious kick he pulled the blade free throwing the dying body to the ground.

The second one came at him, his face pale from freight. The youth parried his un disciplined swing and deflected the blade away. With two slashes the unprotected man fell gurgling as the blood poured from his exposed jugular. Two down.

He heard the twing as the bolt chewed through the air glancing off his shoulder. He focused on the her as she reloaded clumsily. Even as he moved he knew her to be innocent one and yet it didnt matter, he didnt hesitate. He released the blade in his right hand, spinning through the air end over end. The adrenaline had obviously taken over for the blade hit her midchest with enough momentum that she staggered back several feet into the wall. Her eyes cried out to him and he ignored her searching for his final target.

The axe swung slicing through the empty air where his head had once been. He turned on the attacker catching him with a jab to his throat and a kick to his groin. The axe fell to the ground and the youth slashed three times. The man was dead before his body touched the ground.

A soft applause drifted from the doorway. "You did well Drice Malehn. Today your are Maktah." he paused walking to the fallen woman. With a sickening twist he freed the blade and tossed it to Drice's feet. "You learned your final lesson today. There are no innocents on the battlefield. The word innocent is a prespective one that you do not have the luxory of pursuing in the course of a fight. Engrave that lesson in your mind Maktah, for it surely keep you alive.
______

He licked his lips and tried to hide the frustration in his eyes. They were binding him in what he could do. This plan might be moraly correct but regardless of their morals it put him and Cailey in immediate danger. The one who made the first move always had the upper hand in battle. He watched as the captain went after the other mage.

That wasn't good either. He had been counting on her to check any magic these locals came with. Now that job was going to be in Cailey's hands. He looked at his sister. No he wouldn't forget the lesson his master taught him. There were no innocents in war....

OOC: I didn't like it, so i'm rewriting it.

OOC: This should make a little bit more sense. I'm just not sure how to have arlen react. if at all. I think this would be better.

sorry for my inability to coherently write, as of late. :\

IC:


Standing from his crouch, it seemed that things occurred in front of Arlen that could unravel the whole coup. He was tired. He was hungry. Now, he was getting angry. Very much unlike his normal laid back self. This had to happen quickly. Weka'u had been here for quite some time.

His gaze fell upon the young man, a warrior of some experience. Arlen could remember the boy curled up on the floor of the medical ward, his sister on the table attempting to heal. Every time he'd seen him since, he'd had those blades firmly affixed on his person. At times, Arlen could have sworn he stroked them almost out of compulsion. Almost as if they were a specter of the past, haunting him, and the only way to quiet the beast was to acknowledge it with a caress. Something Arlen was somewhat understanding of.

It suddenly struck him. "The ghost," Arlen said and grinned. Quickly spinning around he spotted Weka'u, a little agitated that he'd stayed so long and things were already falling apart. "You might not have to worry too much longer, boy," he told the young fighter, as he walked away.

A few determined and heavy steps on the deck of the ship, and Arlen was upon Weka'u. "Come with me, sir. I have a plan," Arlen quickly said and gently pulled the chief-to-be by the arm and down the deck further to a lovely young lady by the name of Jade.

"So... Where's that ghostly brother of yours we were all introduced to earlier? I think I have a job for him." Arlen's gaze looked glassy with his tired look, but the anger that once licked his belly had mostly subsided, replaced with hope. "I need him to take all the garbage that an interplanar being has shoved into my head and put it in his," he motioned to the native man at his side. Weka'u was thoroughly confused as to what was going on, and probably also Jade.

"Beside the fact that we'll probably need him to make sure Pu'aki has no hold on this world, once we destroy his body. I hope he doesn't try to anchor himself to T'a'u'weke and return in full force at another time in another body," Arlen tapped his lips. "Although... Hmm... Sephara?" His hand waved the thought away.

"First things first, I need to know if it is possible."

"Very well. Gear up everyone. We leave in fifteen minutes." The tone was not meant to be harsh, but something inside Jade jumped by the sound of the command. She avoided to look at Jasper, feeling his eyes upon her. Perhaps the rest of the crew had noticed nothing, but Jasper knew. He had seen it so many times before, when she had tried to hide it from him. Quickly, to avoid his stare, she turned around and headed downstairs where she busied herself with packing, or rather re-packing her medicine bag. Jasper wasn't far behind. He entered in silence, giving her a piercing look, which she again avoided by carefully replacing one item with another in the bag.

<You are not well>

She ignored him, but knew he was right. The nightmares had returned and she could feel herself distancing herself from the others a little bit more every day. Darkness had began to fill her mind again, darkness and fear, and there was nothing she could do to hinder it from growing. He was behind her, placing a warm hand on her shoulder and she tried to resist a shudder by his sudden touch.

<Don't think I didn't feel that>

"Don't be silly," she said with a hearty voice pulling away from him. "I'm fine." At least she had still control over her own voice.

<You may be plenty of things sister, but fine ain't it.>

She took a deep breath and gave herself a moment to gather herself before turning around and finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were worried, she could tell. He seemed almost alive again, as he gave her the same look he had given her more than four years ago. Mustering what could possibly, with much will, be interpreted as a genuine smile she said:

"You worry too much. It's just a couple of bad dreams is all."

<I don't really sleep you know> Jasper replied, eyes slightly narrowed. <You have been talking in your sleep, and...>

They were cut off as Arlen entered with Weka'u. Jade brushed a strand of hair from her face, giving her another moment to remove her troubled eyebrows and replace it with a smile. The small crease quickly re-appeared though as Arlen spoke.

"I'm sorry but I'm not sure I understand," Jade said in reply, sounding a bit distressed, "but.."

"but I'm right here," Jasper filled in as he materialized in front of them. The native jumped, to put it gently, but it only made Jasper's smile wider. If anything his mood changed direction quickly than the wind. Jade saw no trace of the worry he was expressing seconds ago. It had not been the same before, when he was counted amongst the living. He was still Jasper, in so many ways, but death had changed him, almost as if a part of him had been removed to be replaced by something else.

"If you take care of his body be sure that I can take care of the spirit. His will not be the first I have helped cross over to the other side," he continued. "Might be that I would need Sephara's strength if his spirit is strong."

"And for the other thing... well, that would be the first."


OOC: sorry, I've just felt quite uninspired lately....

OOC: Don't worry, I think you are not alone. It's a sticking point. We ned to get into the jungle and into the next environ.

IC: "Well. We don't have much time to figure it out, then..." Arlen grumbled. He understood, but was nonetheless disappointed. "Perhaps later."

Arlen motioned to Jasper and spoke to Weka'u in his own tongue. "This... man before us. He might give you the wisdom of T'a'u'weke through me. I have been given knowledge that I should not have. If T'a'u'weke is real, and I believe he is, then he gave this too me because Pu'aki is preventing him from giving it to you. He would not have given an outsider this gift if he knew it would never be given to his people. He told me 'The Tongue of Fire' would be with me as long as I was here, on this island."

"I see." Weka'u nodded and his face was firmly fixed with understanding. "Yes, he would not give you such insights for no reason. He is a God of passion and impulse, quick to change his mood - but clumsy, he is not."

Arlen nodded and looked to Jasper. He'd seen some interesting things in his life, but few so many as in the past week. Airships were delightfully inspiring machines. Tossing one to such emotionally parallel highs and lows in such a short time. Even when on the ground. "Well then, we'll give this a try later... and perhaps I'll be able to get some decent sleep, ha!" Suddenly, he was feeling much better about things, inded.

"So, probably time to go. I'll see you up above. I think you'll need to go with Sephara, Jasper. Just in case." Arlen grinned and started walking back top the top deck. The temple still was not resolved. The priesthood would likely try to fill the vacuum of political strength, if any were involved. Most likely, they were. Preists always held powers the common folk knew little of. Be it harmless parlour trick or more potent devices.

Popping his head back into the falling sun, he looked about for Gabriel to push him to immediate departure. There was time enough for working out finer details of the plan on the way.

By now Rama was used to the bitterness of the cold. The frozen wind sticking to his armor and making it look foggy and frosted. Fighting in the cold was so very much different for frontline troops than in any other climate. Even rain and heavy wind played less of an impact than the cold. Coldnees numbed one's senses, caused slower reactions and clouded the mind. The body spends more valuable energy keeping itself warm than it does focusing on the battle.

As the village of Tsav came in to view over the hard dirt path, Rama was reminded of so many battles in a peaks above it, and the consequences they held for these small trading stops along the highway. Tsav was all but deserted. Most of the buildings were partially destroyed from Dominion cannonfire and those left standing were only just keeping the bitter mountain winds at bay. Even now, just over a year since the fighting stopped, the economic depression hanging over the outlying villages showed no sign of lifting.

The remaining citizens of Tsav greeted Rama with glares and hushed whisperes as he rode past. Most of them blamed the Imperial Legions for not saving thier homes, reguardless of whether or not they knew the truth. People needed someone they could blame, and see proof of thier fault. The legions failed to stop the aerial bombardments at this humble village years ago that claimed the lives of several citizens and twice as many garrisoned legionaries. That was before General Samisis, and the strategy that eventually drove Dominia to abandon its Kellan desires, whatever they may have been.

---

"This place is a wreck, even now. The people here aren't even trying to rebuild. It's disgraceful."

"Calm down Mirelle," Rama gave the raven-haired scout a hard stare, "Angering the locals won't make our search any easier. I don't pity these people for thier lack of patriotism, or blame them, but it would be far more beneficial to keep them at least marginally friendly. Especially if conscriptions are handed out again."

"Let the Doms return. I'd like to see thier fancy magitek break and shatter against us. It may have taken a while, but we drove them out of our lands. I dare them to try again." Mirelle was a tragedy of the war. She lost two children, a husband, her home and all of her assets to the war. All she had left was her revenge and utter disreguard for the life of any Dominion, combatant or not. "So where are the others?"

"They should be here by nightfall. In the morning we'll talk a while and split up to search. I think it would be best to camp outside the town tonight. The others will know how to find us," Rama reached out and tied a blue ribbon to a charred post, "We have much to do."

As Rama and Mirelle turned thier horses to leave Tsav, Mirelle took a brief look back at the desolate village. Rama detected a hint of pain in her expression, but it was quickly banished and replaced by the normal stone-faced unemotion she normally showed. After about an hour, they had built thier camp behind a wind-sheltered rock. A warm fire blazed happily over some large dry logs. Rama sat opposite Mirelle with a long pipe tucked between his lips.

"X'Irah is your sister, isn't she?" Mirelle suddenly asked. Rama nodded gravely, and she moved around the fire to sit next to him. She linked her arm around his and laid her head on his shoulder. It wasn't the first time the two had been close like this in front of a fire. They both knew where thier feelings were, but neither of them wer ready to move any further on them. There was far too much left - too much bloodshed left - to put thier personal needs above Kell. There would come a time when Rama would know his place in the world without war, and Mirelle could move past the ruins in which her life was left, but for tonight, the two veterans were content with keeping themselves far enough apart to not be hurt.

"I will find her."

Satisfied? Satisfied?!? A familiar white hot rage began to consume him, one that he had not felt in fourteen years. Who was this woman in front of him that spoke like some kind of patriot, yet who had abandoned her people to go scouring the world for treasure of all things. And yet she had the audacity to take offense at a conflict she had turned her back on.

Gabe turned so she couldn't see the cold, disgusted look he wore. At the height of his fury he felt like laughing, surrendering to the absurdity that somehow, even in the middle of the sea, society, politics, and all the staggering obscenities that came with it, had once again found a way to catch up to him. His sanctuary had been infected.

And yet, he held his tongue long enough for the anger to subside and his calmer, more empathetic self reemerged from the darker waters of his mind.

"You're wrong," he said flatly, "I do not understand because what you're saying isn't making any sense." He was trying his best, but despite that he could tell his eyes were still aflame when he turned back towards her, "You say it's not her fault where she was born, but you'll condemn all the same because of it."

"We are not in Kell. We are not in Dominia. We are on an island in the middle of the Haloed Sea, you are both members of my crew aboard this ship, and the only battle to be fought, as far as I can tell, IS OUT THERE!!!" He shouted so loud he shocked himself, but instantly felt better and being able to release it. The last thing he wanted, however, was a shouting war, and to attack her beliefs would only dug a deeper hole, so he held up his hand to stop her from a rebuttal and just kept talking. He didn't say sorry though, because he wasn't.

"Listen Cyr, you're not the only one who has felt the sting of war," he felt his eye twitch slightly as he repressed the memories of a former life, "But for whatever reason at this moment in time, you and she are in the same god damned place, and it has nothing to do with any god damned wars your people may have fought."

"Maybe you didn't realize it, but when you enlisted under my command, you joined my family, and when you're a part of this family, you have a responsibility to everyone else in it. Why? Because they are counting that you'll be there for them when they need you most. That's what family does damnit. They set aside petty squabbles and look out for one another. I don't know what your intentions were exactly when you signed on, but you made a promise to me and to everybody else up there," he pointed towards the deck, "That you would be there when it counted. And now, you want to turn your back on them, on me, precisely when we need you most."

Even as he uttered the words the full weight of them hit home inside him. That was what bothered him the most, he realized, that she was too scared and blind to see the truth of the matter. A flood of emotions took over him, and he stood frozen, as if suspended in time, breathing heavily while fighting an invisible barrage.

He hung his head and made his way to the door, unable to be in front of her while she was like this anymore. Before walking away he risked saying one more thing. There was plenty he could still think of to say, but only one thing that really matted. As he spoke his voice shook with pain, "Your free to do as you will, but god damned I hope you're the woman I think you are, because I'm betting a lot of lives on that assumption."

Gabriel walked away from her, perhaps for the last time.

Cyradis was wide-eyed with astonishment at Gabe's reaction. She had never seen the man direct a negetive look in another person's direction, let alone erupt into an all out yell. She wasn't sure what exactly about what she said upset him the most, but apparantly, it was enough to hit all the wrong buttons. Cyradis could only stare and hold her tounge as he unleashed his fury.

Alot of what he said struck Cyradis as unfair. That she was abandoning her family was chord strummed deep in her heart, and part of tune Gabe knew all too little about. Everyone aboard knew she was an orphan, or at least, those that had been there when she joined. He knew so little about her past; not the least due to her unwillingness to share it. It should have been a clue to him and everyone else. A hint that just maybe the Kellan-Dominion War was more than just one army going after another on a level battelfield.

The more Cyradis tuned in to Gabe's insensitivity, the more angry she became; his own rage giving fuel to hers. As he turned his back to her, her tore her eyes away from him and clutched her bedsheets in her hands, squeezing the cotton covers as hard as she could. She could feel herself reactively drawing in the potent magic of the island. Gabe said his final bit and exited her room not a moment too late, for when Cyradis looked back at the closed door, her violet eyes were ablaze with the energy she'd gathered.

She lifted a shaking hand from the bed, and covered her eyes, trying with sheer willpower to calm herself down. She realized she'd been holding her breath, and let out a harsh sigh, rising quickly to her feet. Taking a deep breath, she dropped to her knees and reached under the bed, sliding out shallow wooden chest. There were no latches on the box, but instead there were three solid metal strips welded end to end holding it shut. With a stiff wave of her hand, Cyradis split the metal lashings and lifted the lid open. Inside rested the blue and white, lightly armored robe of a Kellan Arch Mage. The last time she'd worn it was during the war's final campaign.

Cyrdis stood, lifting the battle robe up with her. She cast a steely glare the door and replaced her current robe with the armored one. It took a few minutes to fasten the leather thongs that held the small shiney plates in place. Finally, she bent over the chest and lifted out a detailed silver circlet with a ruby inbedded into the centerpiece. Placing the circlet on her head, she turned and looked at a long supressed image of her past in the mirror over her dresser. To complete the uniform, Cyradis once agian withdrew her Seal of Karatam and placed it around her neck. This time, it was glowing faintly. Gabe wanted to start a war. Cyradis would show him war.

Feeling herself calm enough to face Gabe and Arch, Cyradis left her cabin and walked back out on to deck. She drew more than a few stares and raised at least as many eyebrows at her garb. Before now, none of them knew she was a military trained mage, but the unmistakable style of her battle robe spoke volumes.

"Well," she said, her eyes glowing softly as she focused the magic she'd drawn in earlier, "I hope you have a plan." Her gaze was fixed on Gabe. After that speech in her cabin, he ought to be prepared for getting her in this robe.

On the main deck of the Dawn, the crew had assembled and looked ready to leave. Having just come from his talk with Cyradis, he could still feel his heart racing. The adrenaline coursing though him re-energized his tired body and mind.

Striding across the deck he found Archamae slightly removed from the others, and he altered his course toward her. She looked downtrodden and to an extent he thought broken. Revealing her past to the mage could not have been an easy thing, made far worse by the Kellan's reaction, and Gabe saw his conjectures about the talented airship pilot were true. What haunted her was what she'd done during war, for the Dominia Empire, and she'd escaped by turning herself into a drunk.

Gabe had had his own struggles after his battle had ended. There was something inherently human about forcing blame upon oneself, feeling guilt, and letting those feelings devalue your sense of self. Perhaps he'd been lucky. Gabe had never understood why some people turn out the way they did, but he had always been a firm believer in the power to choose. He'd chosen to realize that what had transpired those many years ago were not his fault, and surviving was not something to be guilty for. He'd also chosen to leave his past in the past. Choices Arch had never been able to make.

How can you help a person either unable or unwilling to choose life?

He reigned in beside the Arcadian, "I'm curious as to why you picked now?" his tone was gentle and reassuring.

"Next time you feel like confessing something, I'd appreciate it if you could wait until we're not stranded on and island with angry smugglers, volcano gods, and corrupted native chieftains," he beamed her a smile, but the woman wasn't in the mood. It didn't matter though, Gabe simply needed her to know everything would be okay.

A part of Gabe thought on what the arch mage had said. Archamae was a Dominian. One of them. The same people who'd killed his friends and unleashed horror upon his home. No matter how much time passed there was still fierce anger bottled up inside him, but he knew very well that the past was the past. Arch was here now, one of us, not one of them. That was what was important.

"I'm not sure what your plan is, I doubt you've even thought that much about it, but you're going to reach a tipping point, and soon by the looks of things," his eyes focused on some point faraway into the jungle. "Walking around in this half-dead state of yours is no way to live."

He rose to his feet, "We all do things we wish could be undone, but the sooner you accept they can't be the better off you'll be. You have to want to get better Arch, want to live. Life is a gift that your friends may no longer have, and that you may have taken from many people... don't abuse what you still have by living a half life. Tomorrow is not yesterday. If you can see that..." he simply smiled at her as he caught sight of Cyradis walking up the stairs in her full mage regalia.

She looked pissed, but it didn't matter, he'd gotten her to forget what had just happened and focus on him instead. "...Everything will be okay," he finished.

"Well," she said, her eyes glowing softly as she focused the magic she'd drawn in earlier, "I hope you have a plan." Her gaze was fixed on Gabe. After that speech in her cabin.

"It starts by not dying," he took Arch's hand and lifted her to her feet, then walked past Cyradis towards the rest of the waiting crew. "Come on, we're leaving now. We'll figure it out on the way."

...

No sooner had the good Captain come up than he rushed to Archamae's side. Apparently she needed consoling. Ah... the Kellen Cyradis... Arlen thought, the gears finally clicking into place. He'd thought so much about the future and the past that the present seemed to have temporarily escaped him, fatigued as he was. A military person such as her; she could - and should - manage on her own in situations such as this...

Rather quickly after their exchange of words, and while waiting his turn to speak to the over-worked over-burdened Captain, Cyradis emerged from below decks. Blossomed was probably the word. The magical qualities of this island awake in her slightly glowing eyes. It does do some interesting things, this place... Awakens the senses that have been dulled through misuse. Again I think: Strange that all of us should be crowded together from such backgrounds... There she was in all her battlemage glory, Archmage status after all.

It didn't take someone as gifted with the awareness of modicum and analysis of said facts as Arlen to realize from Gabriel speaking to Archamae, who is clearly from the northerly regions, Dominion, and Cyradis from Kell, that an issue was raised. The situation was simple and distinct... Archamae disclosed she had been to Kell on assignment; telling from her talents, as a demon from the skies. Cyradis, now unearthing noted fact she was an archmage... that probably did not settle well with Gabriel. Thus the storming off of Gabriel and assuring Archamae of her safety aboard his ship, no doubt. The man that Gabriel was, he was obviously concerned for the camaraderie of the ship falling to certain doom. As would I...

With the dual blows of the Dominion under his own belt, Arlen could understand any act of ill will Cyradis had in mind. It would have to wait. More important things than a war that was, for now, over were happening that involved their lives in the here and now.

"Behold!" Arlen said, loud enough for all to hear, "The Archmage of Kell in all her glory! Why she had not graced us with it in the first place? A mystery... Though, a blessing! Now we have little to fear but our own trepidations! Shall we move on then, and see why Dominia fears them so?" His eyes quickly darted to the Dominion pilot, then back to Cyradis' eyes, as if telling secretly: Whatever you have in mind can wait for less pressing moments! Truth be told he pitied the girl. She had run so far from home, only to be confronted by the very thing that she was running from, reminders of the past. The many lives lost by her hands, and the many lives she couldn't save. Even with all that power at her fingertips. In many ways, he was reminded of his own sojourn.

"T'a'u'weke doesn't know how lucky he is! With magicite, we'll be feeling rather lucky too. Don't put yourself in too much of harms way, Archamae, we'll need you to fly the Requiem out of here and to put the past behind us once and for all..." It was a small token of his understanding that he hoped the quick-witted pilot would understand, and doubtless resent without appreciation. Arlen was only too happy to oblige a begrudged Dominion pilot who wanted no sympathy. With a hurried pace, he walked between the two individuals, a glance in both directions, and then moved onward to the gangplank.

At the head of the gangplank, he looked down at the jungle below. Turning his head to Gabriel, he wore a smile that none had seen for days. "Shall we go and rescue ourselves then, Captain?"

He spotted the young Drice and his sister off near the back and quietly schemed to himself. I have a use for you, young knife-master. I doubt you'll fear the reprise of the bad luck killing priests would bring, either. I also doubt the native warriors would want to, though quite capable. I wonder how your sister will manage joining us without you at her hip? Hmm...

"It been a long time my son." the older man whispered. There was no gentleness in his voice but a false sincerity swept from his look. There was a time when Drice had been fearful of the man, Gavin the clan chief of the Jelom one of the tribes of Juvarians. "I have heard of your exploits and you have done your people a great service Maktah."

Drice nodded keeping his tongue silent. He wanted to ask after Cailey to see her again. However he was Maktah there were no attachments. His life was for the clan chiefs, his duty was to the clan. If Gavin ordered it he would slit his throat and spill his blood upon the wooden floor now. Or would he? Berak had aluded that he was different. Was the clan truly his first concern? Or was it rather a little girl who looked at him with shinning eyes and love...

The older man turned his focus back to his master. They embraced with a heavy handed hand shake and Gavin handed Berak a stack of papers. Drice frowned still unsure of why Berak had asked him to accompany him on this meeting. After a few minutes Gavin raised an eyebrow. "Be honest old friend I trust your councel far more then most. Do you see it as well?"

Berak looked angry as his eyes scanned the pages. "Its true? Bah of course it is or else you wouldn't have shown me. Tis going to hell Nepheli save us..."

Gavin nodded in understanding. He glanced towards Drice almost as if answering the unasked question. "Two days ago the ambassador of the Empire in all his wisdom delievered these treaties. They are nothing short of annexation into the empire. Yesterday the empire cleared out land near the border for an air field as well as to demonstrate the Empirial Navy's power."

He glanced at the two. "War is suicidal." Berak whispered.

"So is doing nothing. Make no mistake we are at a cross roads. Two forces will meet, only one will go forward. Juvarians do not get pushed around. We fight when we choose too. We will not be used by anyone. I have a plan one that straddles the line of death and life. That is why the Jelom will be on the front line. The other clans will follow us."

"Tonight we declare war on the Empire. The first step is the reason I invited you Maktah." his eyes bore in Drice. "The first step is fear. I want them to fear the unknown to fear the darkness. To understand they live only as long as we allow them. I want their soldiers to know that we can kill them and their families in a blink of an eye." he tossed a paper to Drice.

"This is your assignment Maktah. Others of your kind will be dance tonight. Berak has promised me that as I had always thought you are one of a kind."

Drice opened the paper scanning the details of his assignment and gulped...

"Do you know what the empire will do? They will kill you and me and anyone who holds a threat to them. They will use your sister, use her to breed more wizards for their army. They are like locusts feeding and killing the land before moving. When they have broken her they will cast her aside."

His face was turning red with anger. "As you please Clan chief, tonight Death will dance with Empire."

Gavin smiled "Tonight we declare war on the Empire and in their anger and over confidence they will come rushing into our trap. And they will learn the true strength of the Juvarians."
______

His fingers carressed the hilt of the twin blades. He blinked he hadn't realized he had even touched them. His mind was distracted, he had been thinking to much of the past. Then again you couldn't run forever. He pushed the foliage back clearing a path for Cailey. She moved lightly on her feet her mind off in concentration. She had that look of preparing herself for a fight. Still no one had given him a hint of what to expect or what to do when they entered the village.

He understood from the little he heard that the shaman was the first threat but that there would be a temple that needed to be cleansed as well. Priests? Fanatics? He shook his head. It didn't matter any that threatened him or his sister would taste their own blood before they died.

With their 'local' guiding them the group was making good time. He glanced down to his sister.

"I have a few surprises for them." she whispered behind a playful smile. "Just like before right?"

Drice nodded. "When I give the signal you release one, when I move towards the temple drop two inside."