PROPHECY 


MASQUERADE CYCLE • BOOK III 

Vance Moore 

®

Vance Moore 

Chapter 1 

"Where in the nine hells is everyone?" Haddad 
muttered as the small group of men and wagons tramped 
through the night. "Are we lost again?" His feet disturbed a 
mound of stones collected at the bottom of the crumbling 
hillside. The land seemed dead. Successive seasons of cold 
and heat had shattered rock and piled scree everywhere. 
The road was deep and cut wide, but the rock faces 
sloughed debris every day and covered the road or ate at its 
base. It was too cold for insects, and the column of 
marching men cut sharp shadows in the moonlight. Within 
hours the sun would rise and sear everything. It was a land 
of no good seasons. 

"Quiet, Haddad!" Natal murmured. "I'm sure the 
sergeant knows where he's going." Natal stamped his feet to 
warm them in the night air. "Anyway, the last thing he 
wants to hear is you." 

Both men were soldiers in the Jamuraan Kipamu League 
of Annies. The League had been named after Lord Kipamu, 
a legendary figure who was credited with many important 
military victories on the old-time frontiers of Jamuraa. 
Dead for centuries, if not millennia, the lord's name still 
commanded respect all over the continent. 

Haddad nodded and shivered as he hugged his coat 
more tightly. He was wearing most of the clothing he 
owned. Haddad tried to tuck his hands into his sleeves but 
flailed his arms for balance on the uncertain footing. The 
noise of others stumbling over rock was overpowered by the 

1 



Prophecy 

sound of the wagon wheels crunching and sliding over the 
broken roadway. Sergeant Atul signaled a halt, and 
Haddad relayed the order down the line. 

The chill breeze heralding the dawn cut through the 
men. None of the soldiers spoke, though chattering teeth 
sounded. Many moved closer to the wagons, holding their 
hands against the warm sides of the oxen. Natal edged 
closer to the animals, and Haddad shifted to give his 
comrade room. The friends were several yards away from 
Sergeant Atul as he conferred with the more experienced 
soldiers. False dawn began to reveal details of the 
landscape. 

"I wonder if they know where we are?" Haddad 
questioned again. The sergeant's ears were sharper than 
anyone had suspected. 

"You two quiet down. Check the oxen and wagons 
now." Sergeant Atul spoke with no perceptible malice, but 
the pair instantly started inspecting the condition of the 
draft beasts and the wagons. Haddad and Natal split and 
went down opposite sides of the line, checking the cargo 
and the beasts. They peered uncertainly into the dim light, 
hoping no problems would be found. 

The sergeant continued to converse with the other 
veteran soldiers. Bad luck and poor communications had 
delayed the unit's departure far longer than anyone 
planned. Unsure of the road, the technical unit had set out 
into the wilderness. The combat troops were far ahead, and 
most of the unit wondered if they could find them. 

The Kipamu League's punitive strike had left at its best 
speed in response to rumors of a Keldon raiding party. The 
barbarians were supposedly encamped only miles away, 
resting their beasts before returning to their base across the 
desolate plain. The Keldons were warriors and slave takers. 
They had swept over the world in ages past, though it had 

2 



Vance Moore 

been decades since any League city had suffered a serious 
attack. Now the Keldons were once again raiding Jamuraa, 
and the League was eager to test its strength. Friendly 
forces had failed to catch the raiders during the past three 
incursions. The lack of success against raiders was a source 
of embarrassment to the army and the League leaders. 
Some civilians said that the army was scared to attack 
figures from childhood nightmares. The news that a target 
might still be within striking distance of the Kipamu 
barrack provoked an immediate response. A force of war 
machines and mounted infantry was dispatched. The 
mechanical forces were steel ants, the weakest and most 
common element in the Kipamu arsenal. However, the 
high speed of the waist-high metal insectoids made them 
the quickest force the army could field. Besides, the 
commanders said the low quality of their foes presented no 
real challenge to the League, just Keldon trash raiding 
small farms. 

Haddad wondered if bravado ruled the army now. 
Seeking to crush their own fears, the combat troops had 
raced out into the field. The need for speed left the support 
troops exposed and without escort as they followed, 
chivvying their plodding oxen into the cold darkness. The 
support troopers carried supplies and maintenance 
equipment, but as noncombat troops they had none of the 
rashness burning in the commanders who raced to fight. 
The veterans looked for machines or cavalry for protection, 
but they found none. Sergeant Atul had said if he had a 
choice between shivering naked with a proper column of 
security or maintaining the current situation, he would risk 
frostbite. 

"Natal!" Atul called, "come here." 

Haddad followed his friend forward as the sergeant sent 
two veterans to the rear of the column. Haddad noticed 

3 



Prophecy 

each of them looked more calm and ready than he felt. 
Perhaps it was only his youth making him so nervous. 
Things couldn't be as bad as he feared. Haddad slung his 
launcher off his shoulder where he usually carried it. The 
sling was too short to quickly shrug off, and whenever he 
was nervous he carried it ready to fire. 

The sergeant looked at the friends but did not comment 
on Haddad trailing along. There were several other men 
gathered around, looking like they were awaiting orders. 

"Natal, you and Corporal Vanosh will advance ahead of 
the group until you find the combat troops or some sign of 
the enemy. If you catch the rear guard, ask for a security 
detail to return with you. If you find the enemy, fall back to 
here. Natal, you're on point. Advance rapidly but with 
care. Vanosh, trail Natal at a distance, and if necessary, fall 
back with news." The sergeant looked into Natal's face and 
looked satisfied at the young man's expression of 
determination and anxiety. "Just remember that returning 
with information is more important than being a hero. 
What are you carrying?" Atul gestured to the launcher 
Natal was carrying. 

"Web round, Sergeant." Many men carried heavy 
weapons in addition to their military short swords, leaving 
their shields on the wagons. These wilderness lands were 
said to hold the parea, giant carnivorous birds that 
commonly attacked men. The birds were land bound but 
swifter than horses, which they could chase down and 
dismember. The launcher Natal carried had originally been 
developed to allow infantry to stand off lesser war 
machines. The web round would ensnare a steel ant and 
could stop a charging bird with ease, especially with the 
wide arc a web round covered. 

"Haddad, what are you carrying?" Sergeant Atul looked 
pensive and fingered the hilt of his sword unconsciously. 

4 



Vance Moore 

"War rocket, Sergeant," Haddad replied. The rocket 
could cripple medium machines if used with skill and 
reflected Haddad's confidence in his marksmanship. 

"Switch with Natal." Haddad slowly handed over his 
weapon and accepted Natal's. His friend looked even more 
apprehensive as he exchanged weapons. The sergeant 
waved Natal and the corporal forward and then turned 
around. Atul looked at the wagons stacked with parts for 
machines that might need repair after the Keldon raiders 
were defeated. 

"Haddad, I want you to find reloads for the men with 
launchers and tell the drivers to keep their personal 
weapons ready for dismount. We'll pull out in five 
minutes." The sergeant pulled a sack of wine from his belt 
and took a shallow draft before handing it to Haddad. The 
wine tasted terrible but still cut through the cold dust 
coating Haddad's tongue. 

Natal and the corporal disappeared from sight as he 
handed back the wine. Haddad wondered what else might 
be lurking ahead. 

"Natal hasn't trained much with rockets, Sergeant." 
Fear and concern for his friend made him talkative. 

"Natal's purpose is to find the combat troops or warn us 
of the enemy. If he has to fire he is most likely going to die. 
With the rocket he will at least die loudly and warn the 
rest of us," Atul said without looking at Haddad. "Find the 
reloads," he continued, "I'll speak to the drivers myself." 

Haddad turned numbly as he watched Atul speaking to 
the drivers. The wind was cold, but Atul's words were 
colder. Natal might die, and Atul only wanted it to be 
noisy—a few minutes' warning at best. Haddad started back 
to check the wagons as Atul instructed. He wondered what 
his own life was worth in the sergeant's estimation. The 
column advanced once again. Haddad went quickly from 

5 



Prophecy 

wagon to wagon, quizzing the drivers and searching the 
cargo for heavy-weapon reloads. He found none. 

The machines making up the strike force were the 
lightest in the League arsenal. The commanders had not 
loaded the ants' direct fire weapons. The League was still 
largely made up of mercenaries from the city wars ended 
only a few years before. Each city of the League had seen to 
its own defense and conducted small, stylized wars with 
other cities over resources, trade, or even honor. The wars 
depended heavily on paid mercenaries who fought 
according to a code of strictly limited warfare. Damaged 
machines and dead men were viewed as too costly. Heavy 
weapons were rarely used due to their fairly substantial 
costs, the damage they did to enemies who might be future 
allies, and the destruction of loot on the battlefield. Heavy 
weapons such as war rockets, toxic web rounds, and 
penetrating bolts were rarely used without desperation on 
the part of opposing forces. The current League 
commander did not consider a battle with the Keldon 
raiders as desperate. There were no reloads to be found in 
the wagons, just logistical supplies for infantry and modular 
repair parts for the steel ants. 

Natal and Corporal Vanosh returned as Haddad looked 
through the last wagon; it had taken longer than he 
planned due to the poor light. The sun finished rising over 
the hillside as he hurried forward to report to the sergeant. 
He arrived in time to hear Corporal Vanosh speak. 

"We found the rear guard, Sergeant. It's about forty 
minutes ahead with these oxen. The main attack has 
already commenced. The officer in charge said to advance 
with best speed to the main party. He was staying there to 
pull down stragglers fleeing the fight. He couldn't 
guarantee we wouldn't see warriors that eluded him. We 
observed three Keldon outliers pulled down before we 

6 



Vance Moore 

hurried back here." Vanosh was calm as he spoke, but 
Natal was flushed and looked slightly nauseated. 

The sergeant was silent and only turned to Haddad for 
his report. 

"No reloads for personal launchers, Sergeant. I did find 
a few light crossbow bolts," Haddad stated. Sergeant Atul 
took only a few seconds to finish thinking. 

"All wagons will advance at maximum speed. Keep your 
eyes open for Keldons trying to escape. If a large group is 
spotted, be prepared to stop and get into fighting 
formation. Spread it down the line," Atul ordered, and he 
waved the unit forward as Vanosh went back to spread the 
word. Haddad and Natal came together as the unit 
advanced at best speed. 

"What did you see?" Haddad asked quietly. 

"We walked maybe thirty minutes before we found the 
rear guard. Vanosh trailed me far enough back that I 
couldn't see him most of the time. Besides, he ordered me 
not to look back. I almost wept with joy when we finally 
spotted our forces." Natal paused and continued in a more 
controlled tone. "Vanosh hurried up, and we reported. 
When the first Keldon got pulled down, I thought I'd 
vomit. I've never seen a man killed by a steel ant before." 
Natal was too young to remember even the stylized fighting 
the League had practiced as unification occurred. "The 
Keldon was mounted on a camel and trying to circle 
around the force when he was spotted. The commander of 
the detachment sent out a pair of ants to stop him. They 
ran down the camel in seconds. The Keldon tried to run up 
the side of a hill, but it was unstable, and he made little 
headway." Natal became lost in remembrance of the scene 
and spoke more intently. "The ants rushed up with their 
legs churning out a stream of soil and small rocks. One of 
them pulled down the camel by shearing off a leg. The 

7 



Prophecy 

camel fell instantly, and the ant was at its neck as soon as it 
hit the ground. The Keldon kicked out of the saddle in 
time, and he was on his feet when the second ant hit him. 
He was trying to draw a sword, and you could see the ant 
take the arm off. He screamed and threw himself down the 
slope. The ant followed and caught him before he fell very 
far. It stabbed him with its legs and started dismembering 
him before they stopped sliding. You could see parts 
separating as they were ripped off. I never want to see 
anything like that again." Natal was shaking as he finished. 

"It looks like any future fighting is going to be against 
the Keldons, Natal. The age of machines fighting machines 
has ended. The enemy is men only now. More of the 
fighting is going to be men against men. The Keldons raid 
too widely, and there are only so many machines." Haddad 
echoed the words of the pessimistic veterans. "You chose 
better than you knew when you went into the technical 
service. The infantry and cavalry are going to be fighting in 
the field, not sitting in garrison. When the real battles 
begin, we'll be in camp most of the time." His words were 
not those of a hero, but the earlier mercenary view of 
combat still was prevalent in the army. Combat was 
something you prepared for, but fighting was too dangerous 
and expensive to be eagerly sought. New recruits and new 
battles were changing the military, and Haddad knew he 
would be increasingly out of step with the mutable army. 

"Hey, Haddad," Natal called, jarring his friend from his 
thoughts. "We've arrived." 

The bodies of Keldons slain by the rear guard were 
clearly visible on the sides of the hills. Haddad thought 
there were less than ten killed, but it was hard to be sure. 
The Keldons had been dismembered and scattered by steel 
ants, and he closed his eyes several times as he tried to get 
an accurate count. Sergeant Atul motioned the wagons to 

8 



Vance Moore 

stay put, and he collected an advance party. The column 
was surrounded by rises just steep enough to block the 
men's sight and limit mobility. Haddad could see the trail 
of disturbance the League assault forces left as they 
scrambled over the loose ground. He could hear what 
might be combat in the distance. It sounded as if there was 
fighting over the short rise before them. But noise could 
carry a long distance, and Sergeant Atul wanted a look 
before advancing blindly. Everyone climbed very slowly up 
the slope. 

The sergeant crouched as he reached the crest, and the 
others did as well. The scene before them was so 
unexpected that they looked for several seconds in 
confusion. Slowly they began to realize what had 
happened. The 

League assault forces, so confidently thrown against the 
foe, had been defeated. 

The steel ants, so deadly under Natal's eyes, were 
scattered pieces, dismembered as crudely and sloppily as the 
Keldons Haddad had tried to count minutes before. 

Still stunned, Haddad voiced his first thought, "We'll 
never fix everything with what we brought." 

Natal nodded dumbly as Corporal Vanosh crabbed 
quickly over and whispered in Haddad's ear. "Shut your 
mouth, or I'll open your throat." The corporal had a knife 
in his hand, and Haddad realized the stupidity of saying 
anything aloud. 

Soldiers picked over the battlefield, and Haddad 
realized he was seeing the enemy for the first time. From 
this distance, and with the sun behind them, it was difficult 
to make out details. The soldiers seemed very large 
compared to the League bodies scattered over the field, but 
perhaps the dead looked smaller when compared to the 
living. The figures were odd in proportions, and he could 

9 



Prophecy 

hear their voices, deep and guttural as they turned over and 
searched the pockets and wallets of the dead. Haddad 
grasped his launcher more tightly and wished he had the 
longer ranged war rocket load instead of Natal's web round. 
He looked to the sergeant for orders, but Atul stared 
beyond the debris below and farther on. Haddad followed 
Atul's gaze and saw the raiders' camp. Even from this 
distance, he could see League prisoners gathered under 
Keldon guard. There were huge machines of some type and 
only a few men with mounts of horses or camels. There 
were far fewer men than Haddad would have thought 
possible to overcome the League men and machines. Atul 
motioned everyone to withdraw. They slid down the slope, 
each trying to be silent and cringing at the odd word or 
oxen low from the supply group. 

The sergeant whispered instructions even as Corporal 
Vanosh raced back up the line of wagons to start the 
retreat. 

"The Keldons must be out looking for other League 
forces—there are just too few otherwise." He turned and 
addressed Haddad and Natal. "When we withdraw you two 
will keep your attention to the rear. Be prepared to sound 
the alarm, but stay quiet unless you clearly spot the enemy 
and he spots you. No unnecessary noise." Sergeant Atul 
gestured emphatically even as his voice remained at a 
whisper. But even as he attempted to salvage the situation, 
a loud cry of alarm sounded up the line. 

"Raiders, Sergeant!" The corporal was coming back 
from the rear at a run. Drivers were on the ground and 
preparing for battle. 

Sergeant Atul cursed. "Come on men! We'll see them 
off!" He grabbed two drivers. "Get water bags and 
blankets," he whispered. "We'll run if we can." The drivers 
dived into the rear of the wagons and began slinging out 

10 



Vance Moore 

water bottles for after the fight. Haddad and Natal followed 
Atul as he reached the last wagon. They followed someone 
who knew what he was doing even as they left one point of 
the column exposed to attack. The corporal was up in a 
driver's seat, moving the wagon to the side to start a wall. 
One other driver was also moving his team, but the 
Keldons were advancing, a troop on camels closing fast. 

The attackers seemed giants as they deployed. Each was 
larger than anyone in Haddad's company, and their heavy 
armor and decorations made them larger still. At this close 
range, the Keldons were even more fearsome looking, and 
their skin was ashen and faded. Each was yelling, and the 
sound seemed loud enough for thousands instead of the 
company that Haddad saw. Haddad's heart pounded, and 
he was short of breath as he neared the back of the column. 
He wanted to run, and determined not to be a coward, he 
ran toward the enemy. Each step brought the Keldons 
closer, and each Keldon shout made him more afraid. The 
mounted warriors brandished swords and axes, and now 
their shouts were one voice, battering at his morale and the 
morale of the supply column. 

"Shoot when you can," Atul cried as he grabbed a 
shield from the back of a wagon. The League soldiers 
formed into clumps, and swords sprouted like weeds as each 
man cursed his luck. Natal danced around an ox and 
looked for a target. His launcher rose to his shoulder, and 
he fired the war rocket Haddad had given him. 

It flew in a flat arc and hit the shoulder of a camel. The 
rocket's charge shattered the animal's side and removed the 
gray-skinned raider's leg in a bright flash. Haddad could 
hear the sudden amputee cursing as he and the camel 
separated, breaking up the Keldon line. As if Natal had 
ordered it, men with launchers let loose other rockets and 
darts. The Keldon charge was a mass of screaming animals 

11 



Prophecy 

and men, but the warriors swung wide and up the slopes on 
either side of the wagons. The deaths disrupted the Keldon 
battle cries, but every warrior was roaring. The League 
soldiers sent up a few cries of their own, but fear rather 
than rage sounded from the men around the wagons. 
Haddad and a few others had not fired, the web rounds 
being point-blank weapons. The enemy jockeyed for 
position to sweep down over the League. Many Keldons 
dismounted and gripped axes and shields. Behind Haddad, 
on the other side of the wagons, he could hear shouts. He 
glanced over his shoulder and saw the biggest of the raiders 
calling and signaling. This Keldon must have been near 
seven feet tall, cursing and yelling in a pall of smoke. 
Haddad barely had time to wonder where the fire was when 
the split Keldon forces descended upon the column. 

Haddad spun on the nearest Keldon raider and fired his 
launcher. The round webbed the rider to his camel. 
Haddad could hear curses that rose to a shout as the camel 
went down heavily, whipping the rider into the ground. 
Gear shot off the body, and the Keldon's helmet skipped 
down the slope, finally hitting a wagon. The struggling 
animal and its attached corpse slid down the gentle slope 
to snare another Keldon mount. The rider of the second 
animal jumped free in time to avoid being trapped. The 
now standing Keldon wasted no time. He ran at Haddad, 
screaming a war cry, a long sword in his left hand. Haddad 
threw the launcher at the man hard. The raider batted it 
away but stumbled in mid-charge. Haddad drew his short 
sword, knowing the warrior would bowl him over. 

Then Natal stepped forward, and Haddad remembered 
he wasn't alone in this fight. His friend picked up a shield 
and tried to push the Keldon away. The barbarian 
overtopped Natal by at least a foot and was in full armor, 
spikes, and studs of metal. The taller warrior swung his 

12 



Vance Moore 

sword up and hammered it down. The blade screamed as it 
tore through Natal's metal shield and sank deep into his 
torso. His eyes rolled and blood flowed from his mouth as 
he tried to speak. The Keldon's blow had been too 
powerful, and his blade was now stuck inside Haddad's 
friend. 

The Keldon swore as he tried to haul his blade free from 
Natal, his eyes wild and inhuman against the ashy skin. 
Haddad swung his sword at that face, committing 
everything to this one strike. His blade rang as it hit an 
armored shoulder and then skidded under the rim of the 
man's helmet, sinking into his neck. Even mortally 
wounded by the blow, the Keldon turned and struck 
Haddad with a gauntleted fist, the studs tearing a line of 
agony across the League soldier's scalp, right over the eyes. 
Blood poured down, and the pain and shock took him off 
his feet. Haddad could still hear the cries of other soldiers 
around him as he worked the blade free of the Keldon's 
neck and tried vainly to clear his eyes, to rejoin the battle. 
He pushed himself off the bodies of his friend and his 
friend's killer. The shouts of his comrades were falling 
silent as he struggled to stand. 

The Keldons held the field, and the fighting revolved 
around one wagon, squatting under the heavy load of 
supplies it carried. The oxen lay dead in their traces. Atul's 
voice was falsetto against the cries of the Keldons as he and 
a few others fought on. Spears licked out from under the 
wagon as the last League soldiers fought like animals 
trapped in a den. The Keldons laughed now and threw 
rocks under the wagon. Another gray warrior cut heads 
from corpses and hurled them at the trapped defenders. 

Haddad saw it all as if very far away as he picked up a 
shield and carefully pulled a sword free from a dead 
Keldon's back. He staggered into a charge at a Keldon who 

13 



Prophecy 

ignored him as unworthy sport. The discharge of the 
launcher must have been accidental, Haddad later decided. 
Or perhaps Atul had decided better to kill oneself than be 
dug out like a rat. The charge thumped into the bottom of 
the overloaded wagon and ignited hidden rockets buried 
there. 

Accidentally or on purpose, the blast killed the 
defenders, and Haddad was knocked spinning as a piece of 
someone smacked into his shield. The Keldons close to the 
wagon screamed in rage at their injuries and at being 
robbed of their victory. Supplies that had been hurled into 
the air from the blast soon fell, mostly striking the 
wounded gasping on the ground. Haddad swayed 
drunkenly, turning to face the largest group of Keldons. He 
hoped to die fighting, but his eyes wouldn't focus, and he 
saw only blurs and shadows. A hand swept his helmet off, 
and then there was only pain and darkness as he fell. 

14 



Vance Moore 

Chapter 2 

Waking up was a long, painful process with no 
beginning and no real end. There was a long period where 
pain and nausea encompassed the totality of Haddad's 
world. Never had he felt such sickness as his body pitched 
and moved against his will. Several times, he could not 
have said how many, the nausea provoked an episode 
where he tried to vomit. Haddad never did, but each bout 
wiped out any progress he made toward reaching normalcy, 
and pain blotted out his sense of time. Finally he mastered 
his illness and tried to call for help. His eyes were gummy, 
and his mouth and throat were dry. It was only after he was 
sitting up and looking at the moving landscape that he 
remembered the Keldon attack, the moment he went 
down. Commands in voices he had never heard brought 
him fully into the present. 

"Slave, that one is too ill for the purpose. Find another 
to use." The voice was gravelly but quiet and with a 
feminine tone. The voice spoke in Haddad's native tongue, 
but the words sounded foreign, as if whoever was speaking 
them hadn't known the language for very long. He turned 
his head slowly to see the speaker. It was a Keldon, but this 
one was different from the warriors he had seen charging 
the line. She was a woman, six feet tall and dressed in dyed 
leathers. The red and orange tones were bright and jarring 
to his eyes. Her features were coarse, and her gray skin was 
wet ash in the shadows of the vehicle. She turned and 
looked at him with eyes rimmed with kohl. A hand shoved 

15 



Prophecy 

his head, and his vision clouded at the fresh pain. The 
cursing he heard became shouts of anger behind him. A 
struggle was occurring, and he turned to see what was 
happening. He found a man of his own nation crouched by 
him. The poor state of his clothes and the resignation in 
his body were obvious even to Haddad's still blurry vision. 
This was a man who had been with the Keldons far longer 
than Haddad cared to imagine. 

"Don't look at them directly, boy," the man said as he 
looked off to the left of Haddad's face. Haddad tried to see 
what was happening as the sounds of struggle died down. 
The brightly clad woman was standing in front of a League 
officer restrained by two men. His mouth was bleeding, and 
he bared his teeth in challenge. The Keldon smashed his 
face with her gloves, which were heavy and studded. He 
fell to his knees, and the two men kept his head bowed as 
he began cursing in broken, incoherent mutterings. 

"He challenged her with his eyes. Never meet their 
eyes. 

Now she'll make him suffer." All this was delivered by 
the crouching man in a low voice that Haddad strained to 
hear as he looked around. 

He must be in one of the large vehicles he had seen on 
the battlefield, Haddad thought. He was on a long deck 
that stretched maybe sixty feet from end to end. One side 
of the vehicle opened to the outside through several large 
doors, which allowed light inside. The landscape flowed by 
at a fair clip, and Haddad realized motion sickness 
contributed to his nausea. The vehicle he was in was 
packed with League prisoners. The captives were lying 
down, and only a few were not obviously injured or dazed. 
There was only a small group of what must be Keldon 
servants—all raggedly dressed men. They seemed rather 
stoic at the Keldon victory, and Haddad wondered what 

16 



Vance Moore 

their status really was. Loud horns sounded outside the 
vehicle, and Haddad felt a moment of hope as he imagined 
it signaling the arrival of League forces. 

"Hold his hand still," the alien woman said. Both 
servants rammed the officer's hand to the deck, and 
Haddad wanted to protest, but he couldn't drag a single 
sound from his parched throat. The woman drew back her 
metal-shod stave and then slammed it down on the man's 
fingers. The officer inhaled to scream, and he reared his 
head up, staring into her eyes. Before he could voice his 
pain, the stave rose and crushed his other hand. He did not 
scream but seemed to dissolve into the wooden deck. 
When the woman spoke she didn't even sound angry. 

"Over the side with him." She gestured to an opening, 
and the body was flung clear. "Walking speed and a wide 
circle," she called, and the command was relayed by others, 
presumably carrying it to the driver of the craft. The 
passage of landscape slowed, and Haddad became more 
aware of the craft's curious gait. He could see other vehicles 
moving into his line of sight as the craft began to turn. The 
image that sprang to mind was of hermit crabs using toy 
boats as shells. The vehicles were overturned hulls in shape 
with wide doors and windows showing. He could see the 
gray faces of Keldons, in contrast with the captives, looking 
out. The land vehicles were balanced on dozens of legs, and 
the rhythmical sight of them made his motion sickness 
worse as the female Keldon spoke. 

"I am Latulla, and you will obey," she said loudly but 
without any particular emphasis. "I will not be questioned 
or challenged. All other Keldons will receive the same 
obedience and respect, or you will be punished." Haddad 
watched other men being thrown from what he decided to 
call land barges. Some were limp and did not rise. Others 
got up and started collecting themselves. 

17 



Prophecy 

"Some of you might be thinking of escape. Try and you 
will be punished, as I punished the slave without respect. 
Even if you should succeed, you will only find death." As 
she finished, Haddad could see groups of something 
breaking into the large circle of moving land barges. The 
timing was too perfect, and he realized he was seeing a 
planned performance and not some impromptu expression 
of rage or cruelty. This was carefully staged, and only his 
weakness and passivity had saved him from a similar fate. 

The land birds of the wastes were now only a legend in 
the civilized cities of the League where Haddad had grown 
up. They had been relegated to the status of monsters of 
fairy tales, spoken of only to scare children. But in the 
wilds of the east, they were the primary danger faced by 
League patrols before the Keldons began raiding. They 
hunted in pairs or small groups, and their presence in a 
district meant panic. All that Haddad knew of the parea, 
called the running death by some, flowed through his 
mind. Then the beasts spread out and fell onto the men 
stumbling on the ground. 

The birds overtook their victims, and when they 
reached the running men, they knocked them down with 
what appeared playful nudges of their beaks. Full-grown 
men fell and tumbled head over heels as a result of those 
love taps. Other birds snapped at flailing limbs and 
dismembered men as neatly and quickly as slaughtered 
chickens in the mess hall. More parea darted in, and 
Haddad wondered where they had all come from. At more 
than five hundred pounds apiece, the surrounding 
landscape couldn't support many of the vicious birds. He 
coughed and spit several times before he could make a 
sound. 

"It's like a flock of sparrows hunting a field," Haddad 
said. The juxtaposition of that homey memory against the 

18 



Vance Moore 

hellish scene was grotesque. "Where are they all coming 
from?" He was talking to himself, but the crouching slave— 
that was what he must be—answered him. 

"Every trip they dispose of the troublemakers or the 
dead here. The parea can sprint past a galloping horse and 
run for hours. They come from miles around whenever the 
Keldons enter the wastes. Latulla takes advantage of the 
birds' hunger to shatter the spirits of the captives. I'd curse 
them all if I didn't know I'd end up out there." 

The birds that straggled in found no moving prey and 
fell upon the bodies of the League officers and slaves. The 
unconscious victims mercifully died without seeing their 
devourers. The birds leaped and tore in a territorial display 
to keep other gorging birds away. Keldon warriors handled 
barbed lances to drive away birds that might come too near 
the barges. Another round of horns sounded. 

"The lesson is over. Let it never be forgotten," Latulla 
intoned. Haddad knew he would always remember and 
swore vengeance, but he swore it silently and with eyes cast 
down in apparent submission. 

"Into traveling column and trail speed," she called and 
was once again echoed to wherever the control or helm 
was located. The barge straightened out, and Haddad's last 
view of the bloody scene was of the parea snatching meat 
from each other's kills. 

* * * * * 

Haddad sat morosely against the cavern wall, idly 
turning his mess kit in his hands as he dreamed of the next 
meal. The cave was shallow and dry, the wind blowing 
continuously into its mouth. One of many against a granite 
cliff-side, it was stuffed with League soldiers and civilians 
captured by raiders. 

19 



Prophecy 

How long had he been in captivity, Haddad wondered. 
Like his distant slave ancestors, Haddad was cut off from 
time. Each day was the same. It started with sunrise and 
stopped with sunset. Haddad wondered how his forebears 
dealt with the total lack of control. He had no idea what 
would happen to him or when things might change. 

Latulla's barges had stopped within hours of the parea 
feeding. Haddad had stepped into a desolate valley ringed 
by sloping cliffs. The area served as a central collection and 
training point for the Keldons. Each load of humanity was 
dumped into this sewer and into slavery. The task of the 
overseers was to instruct new servants in the Keldon 
language. The turnover among prisoners and their teachers 
was constant. Haddad was sure it was to prevent escapes. It 
was impossible to plan anything or trust anyone as people 
appeared and disappeared without apparent reason. There 
was only one constant—the distribution of the food. A 
slave might have many instructors and sleep in many caves, 
but only one person would issue a captive's rations. The 
chit that Haddad carried continually locked in his fist was 
the only source of food besides the weeds growing in the 
arid soil. Twice a day he reported for food and spoke a few 
words of Keldon. If he showed no improvement in 
speaking, he received nothing. Some slaves starved to 
death as the world looked on—either for failure to learn or 
because they irritated the distributor of the food. Haddad 
had tried sharing rations, but the desperate stole what they 
could, and soon everyone bolted their food as soon as 
possible to avoid theft. 

Goblins, elves, and League soldiers were all thrown 
together, locked in a desperate struggle to learn their 
captors' language. Each day was the same as bewildered 
captives arrived and apathetic slaves left. Haddad 

20 



Vance Moore 

wondered if all of Jamuraa would be swallowed by similar 

camps. 

"Food call," came a voice from outside the cave. 

The issue of rations motivated all the captives, and they 
rushed out of the caves where they talked with Keldonspeaking 
slaves. Piles of food were set up, and Haddad 
hurried to get into the nearest line. 

"I am very hungry, and I need food so I might serve 
Keld," Haddad said as he reached the head of the line. The 
slave passing out the food nodded and handed him bread. 

"You have learned very quickly," the man said, "but 
continue to concentrate on speaking clearly." Haddad 
thought the threat of starvation centered the mind more 
surely than the slave's compliment. He retreated higher up 
and squatted to eat his ration. Most of the camp was 
congregated around the food, and guards moved in to keep 
order. Haddad could see a clump of new prisoners nearing 
the head of the line. The last load of captives had come 
from the south and brought lizard men and goblins to the 
camp. They were not yet broken by the turnover inside the 
prison. They still had their identities. 

The roar of the lizard men as they fell on the guards 
shocked the camp. Warriors began to retreat as more and 
more prisoners joined in the rush. Keldons rushed from 
throughout the camp as the captives turned on the captors. 
Spear tips tore into the prisoners, but like a stampede, the 
pressure of the ones behind pushed the dying forward, 
tangling weapons. 

"Come on!" cried an elf, and he began running toward 
the camp corrals. "We'll steal mounts and be gone before 
the bastards can put down the riot." 

Haddad followed. The corrals held a few mounts for 
scouts and were at the mouth of the valley. A slim chance 
is enough in this hell, he thought as he ran for the horses. 

21 



Prophecy 

A few other prisoners fell in behind him, but most of the 
population was converging on the clumps of embattled 
guards. The corrals grew closer and closer. Then the elf 
leading the run slowed, and Haddad crashed into him, both 
prisoners spilling to the ground. Haddad cursed his 
bleeding scrapes as he started to help his companion rise. 
The elf only shuddered, blood pouring from the arrow 
wound in his chest. Guards stood in front of the corrals, 
one with a bow in hand. The archer and his companions 
must have come from the feed sheds to the side of the 
corral. Haddad watched him pick off one of the prisoners 
who stumbled to a halt as the Keldon guards unsheathed 
their swords. 

Haddad turned and slowly walked away. He headed up 
toward the caves. If the riot pulled more warriors away from 
their stations, a guard post might be abandoned at the top 
of the cliffs. But even as Haddad walked the back slope, he 
could see the attack dying down. The fighting retreat of the 

Keldons stopped with the guards pinned back against 
the sheds. The buildings stored gear for the raiding parties. 
Suddenly new figures entered the fight. Axes and swords 
cut through walls to fall upon prisoners. The new defenders 
were red, and the riot began dying, literally. Swords 
sheared men into pieces, and instead of the new fighters 
being buried under bodies, they mounted piles of corpses. 
Crazed captives lost their footing on the blood-soaked 
ground. Insane charges momentarily hid the scarlet 
fighters, but steel cleared away the curtain of flesh to reveal 
them anew. Now the prisoners broke and ran for the caves. 
The guards paused to bind up their wounds, and their allies 
all stopped. 

Like machines, Haddad thought, and then the fleeing 
tide of captives was upon him. He ran toward the cliff side 
with the rest. The riot had failed, and who knew what the 

22 



Vance Moore 

Keldons would do. Haddad moved into the cave and 
crawled onto a high ledge right by the entrance. More 
people poured in, and Haddad wondered if some might die 
of the crush in the back. Finally, the stream of people 
stopped. Haddad slowly got down and looked out the 
entrance. Keldon warriors were spreading out as land barges 
came from outside the camp. Guards began clearing out the 
caves and herding prisoners into the waiting 
transportation. The few supervising slaves that had been 
caught up in the riot called out. 

"What's happening? We're innocent!" The language 
teachers were lost among the rioters. Haddad wondered if 
they would share the fate of their rebellious students. 

"The camp is being cleared out to the main colony," a 
guard called back, blood clotting on his armor. 

Everything was being loaded aboard the barges, Haddad 
realized. As if the bloody riot had been a graduation 
ceremony, the Keldons were shipping the prisoners onward. 

Haddad stepped out of the cave, wondering if it was all 
a trap, if the guards were lulling them forward to take their 
vengeance. But their blows were no different from their 
usual brutality, and Haddad stumbled forward with a 
ringing head and the hope that he was headed somewhere 
better. 

23 



Prophecy 

Chapter 3 

Haddad slipped in and out of consciousness. The 
rocking movement of the land barge became hypnotic in 
its lulling power. The guards had distributed food and water 
only minutes after the prisoners boarded. Most were still in 
shock after the riot and had to be forced to eat and drink. 
Haddad tried to have as little as possible, not trusting such 
kindness after so many died. However, the barge slaves 
were old hands in a game Haddad was just learning, and 
they forced food down his throat. The provisions must 
have contained some sort of sedative, for 

Haddad sat and dozed dumbly. By the time he was more 
aware, the main Keldon camp was appearing on the 
horizon. The convoy had traveled through the night and 
swung toward the coast. Haddad looked down to the sea 
and saw a large town, not a temporary camp. There were 
docks and piers stretching out into a bay. There were large 
ships waiting in the sheltered waters for a chance to 
unload. Small boats and rafts were also moored there, and 
sacks of cargo were being unloaded. 

The heavy beat of a pile driver dragged his eyes to the 
construction of a new pier and warehouses. The Keldons 
were here to stay, the construction said. The town was 
much more incomplete. There were houses and what 
appeared to be workshops, but tents and small campsites 
spread in all directions. Systems of pens and feed yards put 
out an odor that fought with the smell of a working port. 
The convoy turned and headed into town. As they 

24 



Vance Moore 

advanced, land barges peeled off to stop at campsites. 
Haddad could hear shouts from the front as a path was 
cleared. The slaves working outside spared only quick 
glances at the prisoners as they continued their tasks. Each 
slave slumped a little more as the convoy advanced at a 
walk. 

"A full load of slaves for construction and mining!" 
bellowed a Keldon crewmember to the warriors outside. 
"Their army fell, and we raid their villages at our leisure! 
We're back because we could carry no more!" 

Envy and jealousy colored the angry muttering outside, 
and Haddad memorized the rude gestures directed at the 
boastful warrior. The barge captain walked down to talk to 
Latulla in a forward compartment. He grunted at the 
shouting crewman to shut him up. The cuff as he passed 
was firm but not injurious, just a reminder there was work 
to be done and discipline to be enforced. Latulla left her 
compartment before the captain could reach it. Her clothes 
were visibly finer in quality. She was clad in leathers and 
fabrics of dark red and purple with fur trimming. Haddad 
smothered a laugh. Her color scheme reminded him of his 
favorite clown from childhood, but as she watched the 
slaves and hammered the deck with her cane, Haddad no 
longer found her humorous. 

"Ready the slaves for processing, Captain." Behind her, 
servants were carrying out her possessions. "Save this one 
for me." 

Haddad cried out in pain. Latulla's cane hit him before 
he even noticed her arm move. His face seemed to shatter 
as the flesh screamed in pain. 

"I've marked him for you. Bring him to my house when 
you're finished here." Haddad could barely see, but her 
colors stood out against the bleak background, and he 
watched her exit the craft. 

25 



Prophecy 

Haddad lay on his side, his face burning. Even the 
Keldons seemed to pity him, though it may have been a 
pain-inspired delusion. The crew sorted through equipment 
and supplies for unloading. Haddad recognized most of the 
supplies as having been produced by the Kipamu League. 
Arms and armor were inspected and thrown aside with 
disdain. There was more interest in the food and blankets. 
The barge slaves picked at the discard pile, not even 
looking at the weapons as they snatched pieces of gear. 

The barge lurched forward several times then stopped. 
Keldon crew began throwing equipment to the warriors 
and slaves outside with instructions of where to take it. 
The captain observed it all but only stopped the 
appropriation of a few items. Haddad grabbed a skin of 
water from a human passing by. The skin was almost 
completely empty, but each drop that fell on his face stung 
and then numbed the pain. Haddad wondered what he 
looked like. Where water touched, he could feel unbroken 
skin, but pain swallowed every other sensation when he 
touched dry skin. 

The sides of the barge dropped, forming ramps. Kicks 
and punches from the crew drove the League prisoners 
down and through a gate. At the captain's direction, two 
slaves dragged Haddad out to stand off to the side. The 
barge rested before a walled compound. A crowd of men 
milled within. Prisoners, slaves, and warriors were 
organizing themselves into groups. In the background were 
barracks, but only a few people moved toward the 
buildings. Most prisoners were being questioned only 
briefly and marched out through other gates. 

A man with a bucket of water walked past to the 
Keldons standing guard around the gate. The sun was high 
in the sky, and it beat down on Haddad and the slaves 

26 



Vance Moore 

holding him. Haddad reached vainly for the ladle in the 
bucket as the man stepped around him. 

"Wait!" said one of the slaves holding Haddad. The 
bucket carrier turned around. 

The slave holding Haddad's left arm waved the man 
back. Haddad's escort had been just a blur off to his side, 
but now he recognized the rough clothes that had been a 
League uniform. There were patches and repairs where 
insignia were torn off. His face was ... 

"Face forward, prisoner," said the man in the tattered 
uniform, and he pushed Haddad's head around with his free 
hand. 

"Give him some water, boy, and throw some on that 
bruise," said the other slave holding Haddad up on the 
right. 

The water carrier took a good look at Haddad and 
gasped. "Is he alive? The whole side of his head is blue-
black! Was he trampled by a barge?" The man's tone 
showed interest in the grisly details of Haddad's injury, but 
he made no move to provide water. "You know only the 
new master is to provide the first water or food. Do you 
want me to get into trouble?" 

Now the slave on Haddad's right took a step forward 
and gripped the water carrier's arm. Haddad was held up by 
the first barge crewman, and his head hung down. 

"He's already been marked for an artificer." The words 
were low and gravelly, with rage evident in every tone. "He 
needs the water now, and you will do as my friend says." 
There were the sounds of a scuffle and a gasp of pain from 
the water carrier as two sets of feet came into Haddad's 
field of view. The dipper cast water into his face, and the 
numbing splash was as shocking as a blow. He staggered 
and crouched even lower. He could see the ladle dipping 
into the bucket as each of his companions drank in turn. 

27 



Prophecy 

He was jerked upright, and the water carrier was holding 
the dipper for him. His whole world was that small pool of 
water. Haddad tried for a moment to see his own face in a 
reflection, but a sound of impatience from his right 
prompted a long swallow. It was life and surcease that 
poured down his throat, and he felt human. 

"Next time a barge man calls, you come," ground out 
the right man. The bucket carrier turned and walked 
toward the Keldon guards, shaking his arm and shoulder as 
if they had fallen asleep. 

"Now don't look at us and don't talk." It was the man 
on his right, and Haddad could hear the tension in his 
words. 

Haddad stood on his two feet and was careful to face 
forward. He brushed his face with his hand in a silent 
attempt to elicit more information. 

"Your face was marked by an artificer, boy." Haddad 
dubbed the man Gravel as he considered the man's words. 
"One side of your face is a bruise with her sigil—purple and 
red in a field of black. It will heal very quickly, but there is 
no denying who your new master is until it clears." 

"What's happening?" Haddad dropped his head and 
tried to whisper without moving his lips. 

"No talking." Gravel's tones were light, but his grip was 
creating another bruise. The other man, Army now in 
Haddad's mind, spoke. 

"I'm talking to my friend here and not a new slave." 
Army squeezed his arm in emphasis. "Everyone knows a 
new slave cannot receive aid, comfort, or information from 
us until he is inducted into a house or crew." Haddad still 
kept his head low but dropped his hand from his mouth 
and looked into the yard. The slaves were slowly dragging 
him back to the side of the barge so he had a better view 
and they were sure of their backs. 

28 



Vance Moore 

"Look at the poor bastards," Gravel drawled. "Most of 
them working in construction and mining crews till they 
drop dead of exhaustion." 

"Not like this boy here," Army answered. "Inducted 
into an important household. With any luck he could be 
stuck in the back rooms and only have to deal with other 
slaves instead of a Keldon overseer. If he had any skills, he 
might even receive special status." There was a pause as if 
Gravel and Army were considering his situation. 

"Of course, he could never become a barge crewman," 
Army continued. 

"Absolutely. Why, only a trusted slave can get barge 
duty with its freedom of movement, the chance for escape 
or sabotage on long patrol," replied Gravel. "A barge man 
could possibly even murder a Keldon warrior, if he was fast 
enough." 

"Only a 'good' record would give a slave such a chance," 
Army answered. "Plotting any act of rebellion is so 
difficult. What with the loyalty of the slaves from Keld and 
the chance that a slave born on this continent would trade 
in his countrymen for a little luxury." 

"How could any slave conspire to escape or do injury?" 
Gravel questioned sarcastically. 

"Well, he would have to try talking to virgin meat 
captured recently and be careful never to say anything too 
inflammatory," Army reflected. 

"Keep his identity and face secret?" Gravel wondered. 

"Yes, friend," Army paused for a moment. "Of course, 
one might wonder why anyone would be so foolish to 
contemplate resistance at all. Especially when anyone can 
betray you." 

"To do nothing is to betray yourself," Gravel hissed. 

Haddad realized the chance the two men were taking. 
He was marked for special consideration, and they stood in 

29 



Prophecy 

considerable danger. But since he had survived the first 
weeding out on the plains, he was probably more subtle in 
rebellion than the soldiers devoured by birds. 

"Greetings, warrior," Army said loudly. "We are to take 
this slave to the Artificer Latulla's household. We are 
waiting for escort." 

"A few minutes more, slave." The Keldon warrior 
loomed before Haddad. His helmet and armor were black 
in the sun, and Haddad could smell leather as sweat and 
water ran down the warrior's uniform. A canteen swung on 
the warrior's belt, wet from being refilled in the watercarrier's 
bucket. 

"Malk!" the warrior bellowed. Another Keldon, yards 
away, turned from an unloading barge. At the shouter's 
gesture, Malk came striding over, the butt of his spear 
leading the way as he shoved slaves aside. His exit left a 
gap in the line that slowly closed as warriors shuffled into 
new positions. This reorganization opened another hole in 
the guard line, and a woman threw herself through the gap. 

She was fair and blonde and might have been pretty 
without the fear distorting her features. The line of women 
that Haddad could now see was screened from sight as 
additional warriors moved into position. The Keldon who 
let the woman through turned to follow, rage at being 
outwitted plain on his features. The angry warrior would 
not have caught her except the woman bounced off slaves 
and then tripped, sprawling to the ground. The slaves, such 
a formidable barrier to the woman, parted instantaneously 
before the angry Keldon following her. The warrior stooped 
to haul the woman to her feet, but she flailed with such 
energy that he could not get a grip. The woman scooted 
away, kicking at the Keldon's face, cloth tearing as the 
warrior snatched at her limbs and clothing. Haddad 

30 



Vance Moore 

wondered how someone so rash had escaped becoming 
meat for the parea. 

"She will bring fierce warriors into the world, Malk," 
the sweating warrior said as Malk arrived and turned to see 
the struggle. The street was a stadium with the audience 
watching a farcical battle. The slaves on the street showed 
nothing, but Haddad could feel their cheers for the futile 
defiance the woman showed. The Keldons found the battle 
amusing as well because the slave was so overmatched but 
still battling a warrior to a stalemate. 

"Perhaps there are still heroes born here," Malk said 
facetiously as he watched the exasperated warrior, bent 
over and pursuing the woman. Haddad was reminded of a 
housewife chasing down a chicken, though the final fate of 
the chicken was a grim counterpoint to the scene in front 
of him. 

The warrior hovering over the woman still couldn't get 
a good grip. Long tattered strands of cloth whipped into his 
face, and the woman's garments tore in his metal gauntlets. 
Laughing warriors surrounded the pair. Haddad could see a 
tight cluster of spear points moving through the crowd and 
approaching the struggle. The Keldon warriors moved aside 
for greater authority as the slaves had parted for the warrior 
trying to capture the fleeing woman. Then the guard hit 
the woman with a closed fist. 

Everything seemed to pause. The woman lay on the 
ground, her body limp as blood poured from a gash the 
gauntlet inflicted. Her face was washed away as blood 
covered her features and pooled on the ground. The 
laughter on the lips of the guards watching the fight 
disappeared in a disbelieving gasp, and then every 
Keldon—except the guard kneeling with horror over the 
injured woman—drew and raised weapons. 

31 



Prophecy 

"Stop!" The voice was high, and Haddad wondered 
what slave dared speak. The cluster of spear carriers forced 
its way to the woman, and the guard line opened. A 
Keldon woman stood revealed. Smaller than any of the 
warriors around her, she nevertheless dominated the 
Keldons and slaves as surely as a giant. "Care for the girl, 
now." 

A stretcher team, composed of slaves, was there in 
seconds, and the guards stayed still, tense with expectation. 
Haddad was shocked to see a slave place his hand over the 
kneeling warrior's face and shove him away like a 
bothersome sheep. The slaves applied compresses to the 
woman's head and rushed her away. The warrior who 
injured her hurried to his knees and knelt before the 
woman of his race. 

"Who commands this trash?" the female Keldon 
demanded, gesturing at the kneeling warrior. "I want him 
before me." The attentive guards rushed off to do her 
bidding as the slave woman's blood soaked into the 
offender's clothes. The warrior had knelt directly on the 
site of the struggle, as if trying to erase the evidence. 
Haddad was mystified. With all the casual and deliberate 
brutality he had seen, why should this woman's injury 
matter? 

"I thank the gods I am not in that squad," Malk said 
quietly as he watched the Keldon warriors searching for the 
commander of the man who incurred such wrath from the 
crowd. The warrior guarding Haddad shook his head in 
agreement. 

"To strike a cradle woman in the presence of a midwife. 
To call down the curse of all women upon him and his 
fellows." Haddad's guard knew some of the warriors 
effected, and it showed in his tone. "All crafts and worked 
goods are turned from them. No luck on the battlefield, no 

32 



Vance Moore 

chance to sire future warriors until the curse is repealed. No 
provocation is worth that." The Keldon spat on the ground 
in contempt. 

A large Keldon warrior pushed his way through the 
crowd, his finer armor showing high rank. The leader 
bowed his head without word or salutation and stood ready 
to accept whatever the midwife might say. 

"You have failed Keld. One under your command struck 
a future mother because she showed the spirit your 
subordinate so sorely lacks. You will excuse yourself from 
the ranks of warriors and report to the ship bound for Keld 
when you have finished your current business." 

"Yes, Midwife," the commander replied. "I will attend 
you tomorrow." 

The woman spat on the Keldon kneeling in the blood 
while his commanding officer looked on. Rage made the 
commander's face into a demon's mask. The midwife and 
her retainers withdrew, the circle of spears working its way 
back through the crowd. 

The now disgraced leader pointed to the kneeling 
warrior rocking back and forth in silent distress. 

"Hold him and still his tongue." Five warriors attached 
themselves in an instant—one for each limb and one 
gagging the prisoner with leather laces. 

"I strike twice as is my right," the leader half-screamed, 
and blows from an armored boot crippled the prisoner, 
crushing the knees and tearing the flesh. Haddad could 
hear a muffled scream of pain as the commander gestured 
for the rest of his unit to approach. 

"In striking a cradle wife this scum struck at Keld, at my 
honor, and at the honor of all his comrades. Return the 
blows that he has inflicted on us all." The surrounding 
warriors converged and began a slow, measured barrage of 
kicks to the body on the ground. Haddad could hear 

33 



Prophecy 

individual blows breaking bones as the slaves and the two 
Keldon guards led him away. 

"I almost joined his attack group," the unnamed guard 
said as they walked away. 

"You were lucky to escape that stain," Malk replied, 
jabbing the butt of his spear into the ground as a sign of 
agitation. 

"Still," the other replied, "the commander could have 
tried to keep some honor for his warriors if not himself." 

"You know the saying about midwives," Malk chided. 
"In all but battle they speak loudest. Better to plead and 
bargain tomorrow when her words do not echo. Perhaps 
some of the warriors will be able to serve worthy 
commanders. Anyway, some words are better spoken in 
privacy." Malk tried to surreptitiously wave at Haddad's 
face and the purple and red mark imprinted there. Malk's 
nervousness taught Haddad that he might have some 
power, even as a slave. 

* * * * * 

The dwelling of Latulla showed Haddad that he was to 
serve an important power. It was another walled compound 
with a large house and outbuildings. The main structure 
was multilevel, and in the entire town only a few buildings 
were equivalently high. The foundation and first story were 
rough-cut stone. There were two more levels of windows 
and balconies facing the gate and the sides of the 
compound. The roof was massive, a huge, steep tent about 
to settle over the entire house. A steep roof was necessary 
where large amounts of snow fell, but Haddad was 
astounded at the waste of materials and labor in building 
such a roof in these warm lowlands. In fact, the entire 
complex was too substantial for the few years that the 

34 



Vance Moore 

Keldons had been here. Most of the materials did not look 
local except for the stone. How much shipping had been 
dedicated to this construction, Haddad wondered. 

Keldons and slaves stopped at the gatehouse. A richly 
dressed human servant stood between two guards. Over the 
gate hung a round black shield with a single complex 
character of red and purple, an emblem Haddad realized 
must be replicated in the complex bruise on his face. 

"We have brought a slave at the artificer's orders," said 
the Keldon escort, and Gravel and Army threw him down 
before the servant. Barge slaves and warriors left, and 
Haddad was at his new home. 

"I am Briach, chief among Latulla's slaves," he intoned. 
"And while your genuflection is flattering, I require only 
simple courtesy." Haddad drew himself to his feet and stood 
before the gate. 

Briach was tall and pale, dressed in a simple short robe 
of medium quality. His hair was red and freckles covered 
his face, a coloring common to many slaves from Keld as 
Haddad would find out. On his right arm was a bronze 
armband, richly worked with a scattering of stones. 
Threaded through his belt was a short, heavy club. While 
Haddad had seen knives and other possible weapons in the 
hands of slaves, they had all been tools. The club was a 
weapon, and it showed this slave had unusual trust and 
authority in the town. 

"Come with me," Briach commanded, and Haddad 
moved at a half-run to catch up. 

"You have been very fortunate ..." Briach paused, and 
Haddad almost ran into him. "What is your name and 
profession?" 

"I am Haddad, and I am a League soldier," Haddad 
replied, trying to sound proud. "I maintained the war 
machines and fought with honor." 

35 



Prophecy 

"Your old life is dead, Haddad," Briach said as he 
continued walking. "Your life is now service to Keld and to 
Artificer Latulla." Briach stopped before the steps of the 
house and gestured widely. "This is your home, and here is 
your loyalty." Briach grasped Haddad's shoulder and lightly 
touched the massive bruise already starting to fade. "You 
are marked, and service is written on your soul. You have 
no family, no nation, no purpose apart from Latulla." 
Briach started walking around the building, out of sight of 
the gates and the guards standing watch at the small 
gatehouse. 

Benches were placed outside the rear of the house, and 
the cackling of chickens sounded from a coop against the 
rear enclosure wall. Haddad and Briach sat down, and 
Haddad said nothing, instead looking at the grounds as a 
prospective battlefield for his freedom. 

"Is it true that in the League, city has fought city?" 
Briach asked. 

"Yes, the cities have battled, though they fought in the 
field rather than on city streets," Haddad replied. In the 
presence of an invasion it was an embarrassing historical 
note. 

"And is it true your fighters may move from army to 
army?" Briach continued. Haddad decided to play along 
rather than educate Briach in the complexities and shifting 
loyalties that in the recent past governed military 
employment. 

"Yes, allegiances change all the time." Of course, 
intercity fighting disappeared with the current Keldon 
incursion. 

"Then you are lucky you have this chance to serve 
Keld." Briach stood and stared north. "The strength of Keld 
will sweep down upon your cities and crush your armies. 
You have been given a precious opportunity to see the 

36 



Vance Moore 

completion of a great destiny. You are honored to serve one 
of a special class. Artificers create new weapons, new 
engines of destruction. Fired by the 'Heroes' Blood' and the 
will of our warriors, Keld will sweep over the world!" 
Briach's eyes were shining, and Haddad felt his gorge rise at 
the sight of a slave in love with his masters. In the League, 
a military defeat only meant a small loss of status or 
position. Briach was talking about the total destruction of 
Haddad's city, nation, and culture. Haddad hoped he died 
before he wished for such a foulness to grow. 

"What do you mean, 'Heroes' Blood'? " Haddad wanted 
Briach to keep talking but couldn't bring himself to agree 
with the chief slave's mad vision. 

"Long ago when the land was newly born, gods and 
heroes stalked the land. Each stood taller and mightier 
than any who walk today." Briach swung and gestured 
westward. "But an evil came into the land and corrupted 
the gods, turning them weak and twisted in hate for all 
living things. They swept over the land, and death flew 
with them in slaughter and disease. The people writhed 
under the feet of their murderers. The gods' betrayal 
festered and poisoned mortal men until they joined the 
forces of darkness." 

Haddad was impressed with Briach's storytelling skills 
but had no idea what the loon was talking about. 

"The Heroes fought against false and treacherous gods. 
The swords of right spilled waves of blood, but each victory 
or stalemate only delayed evil's triumph. The Heroes saw 
all turned against them and sent their people fleeing north, 
telling them millennia must pass before they could return 
home. Those remaining battled without any thought of 
restraint. Every battlefield drank Heroes' Blood and the 
tears of fallen gods. Now evil was besieged at every point as 
men threw themselves against their betrayers, smothering 

37 



Prophecy 

and caging fallen gods under piles of bodies and then 
bloody bones. The final battle vanquished evil but at the 
cost of every warrior's life. Only the corpses were left in a 
poisoned land." Briach sat down and spoke more quietly. 

"The land was empty for centuries. Time covered every 
victory and defeat, changing the remains of slaughter and 
sacrifice into power waiting to be picked up by the children 
of heroes." Briach's tone turned sour. "But escaped slaves 
came to the empty land and found the blood of heroes. 
They used it to fertilize fields, to power wagons and ships to 
carry cabbages. The scum fed off the land left behind by 
the fathers of Keld. And so the Keldons have returned to 
reclaim their heritage. 

"Each victory, each barrel of tufa, each war manikin fed 
by Heroes' Blood brings all of Keld closer to a holy war. 
Each slave who completes his task brings that day closer," 
Briach exclaimed. 

"The Keldons want to sweep over the world," Haddad 
repeated. "But if what you say is true, then they are 
centuries late in arriving here. Why are they here now?" 

"Because you are stealing the Heroes' Blood!" Briach 
snarled. "The tufa your League pulls from the mines is 
composed of the blood and gore shed by the Heroes and 
their enemies. Each concentration marks the remains of 
battle and power run amok. What you call tufa is the 
matrix holding Heroes' Blood." Briach stood and turned to 
the west. 

"The Kipamu League," he spat, "mines the greatness 
and legacy left to Keld by the ancestors! Heroes' Blood was 
laid down in battle, and your kind uses it to nurture crops! 
We have come to reclaim the inheritance and use it for 
war. Laid down in battle, the Blood will be expended in 
battle!" Briach walked to Haddad and gripped his shoulders 
tightly, as if to force his vision into Haddad's body. 

38 



Vance Moore 

"The Keldons are the chosen people!" Briach frothed. 
"They are a race of heroes drawn from every corner of the 
earth! Only in the last few years have they remembered the 
greatness of their forefathers here! Time and the blood of 
other lands have made the Keldons worthy to rule here and 
every other land! The final days are upon us and we are 
ready to take back the world!" 

Haddad wondered when, exactly, Briach had lost his 
mind. The dead and brutalized League citizens in Haddad's 
memories were the victims of barbarians, not saviors. 
Haddad realized that Briach needed to serve heroes in his 
own mind. The steward was trying to convince himself as 
much as Haddad. 

Briach came back to the present and prodded Haddad 
toward a workshop. "Remember you serve a great people. 
Now Latulla will see you and induct you into the house." 

The workshop was the size of a large barn with a high 
peaked roof, massive logs and great stones forming the 
foundation and the walls. The workshop, even more than 
the house, squatted like an invader on the land. When he 
reached the open doors he found the interior well lit. 
Windows and skylights let the sun shine on the tables and 
benches inside. Haddad had assumed the building would be 
as dark as the magic and rituals he imagined within. 

Instead, there were tables with carefully organized 
apparatus everywhere. Shelves of meticulously labeled 
bottles stood against the walls, and a large dispensary could 
be seen at the back of the shop. Pegs held stools and large 
pieces of gear up off the floor and out of the way. 

The second story was an open loft without partitions. A 
rope-powered lift to raise and lower materials from the 
upper floor was to one side. A series of stalls with iron locks 
and cryptic symbols was on the other. Some of the stalls 
were barred with bedding inside. Why would Latulla keep 

39 



Prophecy 

prisoners here where they might disturb her work? Haddad 
realized that captives might be at the heart of Latulla's 
work and wondered how long they lasted. Haddad 
wondered if he would die here. His heart nearly stopped as 
he walked past a trough with a body in it. He stopped, 
looking down. It was not a body, he realized with relief, but 
a mechanical model that looked like a man. Haddad stared 
at the clumps of leather and flesh attached to the metal 
skeleton and wondered what purpose it served. Briach 
shoved him forward, stopping his inspection of the "body." 

Latulla stood examining equipment Haddad recognized 
from his unit. She picked up a manual on maintaining war 
machines and turned the pages. The text she only glanced 
at, but the diagrams drew her interest as the two slaves 
stood before her. She closed the book and looked one final 
time at the army emblem on the front cover. The same 
emblem was worked into Haddad's shirt to show his 
military specialty. 

"So you are an expert in the crude abominations of the 
enemy?" she asked. 

Haddad nodded vaguely, unsure of her meaning and his 
expected response. Briach cuffed his head strongly when 
Latulla looked at him. 

"Speak when spoken to. You are in service now." Briach 
sounded as if he wanted to curse in anger. 

"I maintained war machines," Haddad ventured. 

"I may make use of you then." Latulla lifted a plate at 
her side. On it were a crust of bread and a cup of wine. 
"Open your mouth and eat." Latulla stuffed part of the 
bread into his mouth and watch him gnaw off a piece of 
the stale loaf. After several painful chews she poured the 
sour wine into his mouth. He almost gagged. 

"I take you into my house. I provide you nourishment. I 
give you purpose and meaning." Latulla threw the plate and 

40 



Vance Moore 

cup down as if they were soiled. She turned her back to 
them and went back to examining her loot. 

"Take the dishes away and teach him what I expect. He 
may be called to serve as my aide. Brief him on his 
responsibilities and the punishments for failure." She spoke 
without even contempt, as if Haddad were a dumb animal 
she would need trained. 

You have enrolled a viper, not a beast of burden, 
Latulla, he whispered in the back of his mind as he picked 
up the two pieces of pewter. He and Briach left. Haddad 
talked and asked questions all the way back to the main 
building that night, gathering information to feed his 
treachery. 

41 



Prophecy 

Chapter 4 

Barrin looked at the sea. The surface was covered with 
a light chop. The small spots of white foam were the most 
interesting things he had seen for hours. He had arrived at 
Teferi's island expecting to rest after days spent traveling. 
He was instead told that Teferi was out on maritime patrol 
off the mainland. More hours of flight before he could 
finally commence his mission. The gray-haired wizard 
rolled his head, stretching his aged limbs to ease their 
stiffness. 

The wings of the ornithopter beat relentlessly as 
Barrin's pilot, Yarbo, followed the homing signal. A rangy, 
athletic man in his twenties, the pilot had volunteered to 
fly for the duration of the wizard's stay in Jamuraa. The 
ground crew at Teferi's base camp was able to give Barrin 
and his pilot a device to find Teferi's craft, handing it up as 
the last of Barrin's cargo was unloaded. The lightened 
machine flew faster and was more responsive as it flew over 
a gray sea. 

Yarbo pointed left and down, signaling he had spotted 
Teferi's vehicle. Barrin waved for the pilot to circle, and 
Yarbo immediately banked. Barrin could now see Teferi's 
craft. 

Teferi and his crew were in a long gondola slung below 
the gasbag of a blimp. The blimp was smaller than the 
dirigibles that flew in Tolaria, but any lighter-than-air craft 
is huge when compared against an ornithopter. The blimp 
was well over five hundred feet long and was a mosaic of 

42 



Vance Moore 

pastel red and orange hues. Barrin wondered why such an 
abstract color scheme was used as Yarbo began to lose more 
altitude until they were directly across from the gondola. 

The gondola was more than a hundred feet long and 
was segmented in several places. Bare metal and more of 
the pastel cloth winked a cryptic code as the lowering sun 
reflected off it and the windows. Barrin could see the crew 
waving through the windows. He also noticed that while 
the crew smiled, the long snouts of launchers at the front 
and the back of the gondola followed the ornithopter in its 
flight. He could feel the magic of the craft, and at least one 
spellcaster was holding power for a possible battle. Teferi 
was involved in a war, and Barrin was here to observe it. It 
seemed a poor reason for a reunion to Barrin. 

Yarbo banked the birdlike machine and signaled for 
rendezvous. An agreement came from the blimp. Barrin 
waited for Teferi. If the planeswalker had not been on the 
other craft, getting aboard would have been vastly more 
difficult. 

Barrin patted the thick case slung on his shoulder. He 
had received it when meeting Teferi's intelligence officer 
to coordinate the flight. Though the planeswalker had ways 
of communicating at all times, security and limitations on 
how much information could be cast back to the mainland 
meant a thick stack of documents still needed to be 
physically carried back and forth. Barrin hoped that he was 
carrying good news. 

Barrin felt the surge of energy and a moment of envy as 
Teferi, the planeswalker, appeared before him. The 
increase in weight momentarily interfered with Yarbo's 
control of the craft despite the fact that he was expecting 
it. 

"Hello, Barrin!" Teferi called out as he crouched. The 
noise of the ornithopter's flight diminished as Yarbo cut 

43 



Prophecy 

speed to make speaking easier. "How was your trip? Shall I 
get your luggage?" Teferi was smiling, and Barrin smiled 
back. The planeswalker's black-skinned face was youthful 
and jovial compared to the wizard's care-worn visage. 

"It's all back at base, so no tip for you." Barrin always 
enjoyed Teferi's sense of fun in comparison to Urza's 
permanent glower. Teferi proved being a planeswalker was 
not the source of Urza's melancholy and lack of people 
skills. It was only because Urza radiated such unrelenting 
purpose that so many people followed him. 

Teferi crabbed over and laid his hands on Barrin as he 
prepared to leap back to the blimp. Teferi jumped. There 
was a moment of disorientation as Barrin's body changed to 
a different shape in a different dimension. It was a skill that 
was minor to Teferi but a mountain to Barrin. When they 
appeared in the wardroom of the gondola, Barrin's entire 
being exhaled, returning to its familiar form. 

The first thing Barrin noticed was the quiet and 
stability of the craft. There was only a faint drone to signal 
the presence of working machinery. Except for the noise 
and the excellent view, Barrin could have been on land or 
a seagoing ship becalmed. 

"Welcome aboard the Hunter, Barrin," Teferi said as he 
gestured around to the men. The men nodded in greeting 
but kept their stations. "The Hunter is the lead ship of the 
Mushan class. We are trying to build them as large as your 
cargo dirigibles, but we still have a ways to go." Teferi's 
every movement showed pride in the creation of the craft. 
"This is the biggest thing flying in the hemisphere until the 
new Negria class flies next year." 

"It's a fine craft, but how does it do as a combat vessel? 
The Weatherlight would swat this out of the air like a gnat, 
and even an ornithopter would eat you alive. There may be 
a future in cargo and patrolling, but you should concentrate 

44 



Vance Moore 

your flying efforts on ornithopters." Barrin could tell he had 
ruffled the feathers of an enthusiast. 

"Of course the Weatherlight would destroy us. But it is 
the only one of its kind, and it took the power of a 
collapsing plane to charge its engines. Hundreds if not 
thousands of these can be built. Right now the Keldons 
have few if any flyers," Teferi replied. "These blimps are 
not as vulnerable or useless as you contend." Teferi turned 
and waved for Barrin to follow. 

Teferi moved through a partition and gestured in a wide 
circle. "Cargo space and the ability to carry tons of it long 
distances." The shelves and bins were all locked tight, each 
labeled according to its contents. Large pieces of 
equipment were securely webbed down, and seeing the 
stringency of the lashing, Barrin wondered how rough the 
ride could get. 

Teferi pointed to the ceiling. "Up there is the heavy 
machinery which provides the power and much of the 
passive defenses. Enough energy for months of flight." 

Barrin stretched forth his senses. He could feel magical 
energy encased in tanks and drums, and thin lines carrying 
power in several directions. But he also felt the balloon and 
the envelope above him. It was subtle, but the same power 
trapped in the heavy tanks seemed to float in a huge, 
diffuse cloud over him. 

"What exactly are you using the power for?" Barrin 
inquired as he sampled the texture of the energy being 
used. 

"The liquid in the tanks is a concentrate refined from 
tufa and stabilized in a liquid form. Using this power we 
have quickened the fabric making up the envelope, 
balloons, and cabling," Teferi replied. "The material is in 
some sense alive and acts to maintain its own integrity. 
There is an additional benefit in that water is misted up 

45 



Prophecy 

into the balloons, and the material separates the water into 
hydrogen and oxygen. The oxygen is vented into the 
atmosphere and the hydrogen is contained to inflate the 
balloons. As you know, the shortage of ballast and lifting 
gas is usually the determining factor in how long we can 
fly. In effect, the water we take on board performs a double 
duty. We can even pump in a fresh supply by dangling a 
long hose. Endurance is enhanced." Teferi's eyes shone as 
he regaled Barrin with the details. 

An airman interrupted Teferi before he could continue. 
"Sir, we have news of enemy craft to the east. 
Communications wants you immediately." Teferi strode to 
the front of the craft and called for a report. Barrin 
followed. 

"The Grey Dove is reporting one Keldon ship so far. 
Their pilot has called for assistance, and we are moving to 
support them." Barrin could feel the blimp vibrating as 
their pilot went to maximum power and altered course. 

"It appears you will have a chance to observe operations 
sooner than I planned. The Grey Dove is a Kashan class 
blimp—smaller than the one we are on now—that was 
coming in from patrol. We are the only ship this far east 
that can support her." 

Barrin looked at the broad expanse of coast on the map. 
He was astounded by the amount of coastline not covered 
by patrols. Teferi picked up on his question before it could 
leave his lips. 

"You obviously haven't gotten the news. The airbase 
that housed the blimps for this area was burned six weeks 
ago. For at least the next year, the east will have 
inadequate coverage." Teferi looked grim as he 
remembered the recent raid. 

46 



Vance Moore 

"I thought these blimps had endurance." Barrin wanted 
to lighten the mood, but his primary mission was to collect 
information for Urza. 

"The blimps need to rearm and perform maintenance. 
Also the semi-living nature of the fabric requires special 
maintenance facilities, and we don't have means to provide 
this without substantial new construction," Teferi 
explained. 

Their pilot interrupted them. "Blimp sighted. All hands 
to battle stations. Cease hydrogen production. Engage all 
defenses. Communications, what's their status and where 
the hell is the ship they're attacking?" The pilot reduced 
speed, and two men came forward. The whisper of power 
they exuded alerted Barrin that these were combat mages, 
readying themselves for action. 

"The Grey Dove is low on gas and ballast but is 
committing to an attack run. Look forward and starboard 
for the Keldons," the communicator responded, even as he 
continued broadcasting details of what has happening to 
other airships far to the west. 

Barrin picked up a pair of magnifiers and looked for the 
enemy ship. One of the combat mages finished his 
defensive preparations and was looking as well. 

"Try to spot distortion or a patch of mist. The Keldons 
have been hiding from surface forces and masking their 
movements," explained one of the battle mages. 

Barrin leaned forward as a ship congealed on the 
ocean's surface. It was long and low slung. The figurehead 
was a dragon belching painted fire, and he wondered at the 
incongruity of flame cleaving a gray sea. The ship was 
crowded with Keldons, and on the bow there were several 
war engines Barrin did not recognize. A poor place to put 
heavy equipment, thought the old mage. In the front of the 
ship it could unbalance the boat. 

47 



Prophecy 

"Doesn't look very impressive, does it? But it's the 
troops on board that are the real threat," the combat mage 
said while preparing for battle. His comments were 
addressed less to Barrin than to the world at large. 

Suddenly one of the engines on the Keldon ship 
discharged high into the air, the projectile a flaming mass. 
It burned so brightly that even when Barrin looked away 
he could see the trajectory's afterimage superimposed over 
his vision. 

"Oh, those swine!" someone in the cabin swore. 

Barrin looked again. The fire had been cast at such a 
high angle, he thought the Grey Dove safe, but at the apex 
of the trajectory the compact ball of fire expanded and 
altered shape. A cloud of fiery green and yellow streamers 
glided down. For every foot they fell, the flaming 
projectiles moved yards closer to the smaller blimp. Then 
the streamers collapsed and rained fire down over the 
pastel envelope. Barrin imagined the crew burning as he 
waited for the explosion—but the explosion never came. 
The envelope was burning, smeared with fire, but the 
flames weren't spreading. In fact, they were starting to 
slowly diminish even as he looked on. 

"Told you the defenses make a difference. The engines 
are spraying a mist that retards combustion. As long as the 
fuel holds out, or they don't lose power, the flames should 
be controllable." Teferi sounded relieved, but he 
immediately turned grim. "The pilot, however, has no 
business being that low over the water. He is going to get 
another volley from that ship if he doesn't break off soon." 

While Teferi talked, Barrin shifted his glass from the 
blimp to the ship. The Keldons were moving erratically on 
the deck, and as the Hunter closed, he could detect the 
marshalling of magical power aboard all the craft in the 
area. The Grey Dove began to point down in a shallow 

48 



Vance Moore 

dive, and Barrin saw ballast being dumped aft. The nose of 
the blimp dipped toward the surface. 

A hail of projectiles poured from under the blimp. 
Dozens of rockets leaped at the ship, leaving ribbons of 
smoke and light as they accelerated to a high velocity. 
Dark vapors poured from braziers on the Keldon ship, 
forming a cloud in front of the attack. If it served a 
defensive purpose, Barrin had no idea what it was. The 
projectiles were not effected at all and beat the water into 
froth as the spikes nailed the sea and part of the ship's 
deck. 

"We'll follow his bombing run and finish what's left," 
the pilot called as he adjusted course to over-fly the Keldon 
ship. 

The Grey Dove dumped bombs, but only four dropped 
from its bays. The smoke from the Keldon ship went black 
as coal as the bombs entered it. 

"The Keldon mages are still working on the ship. Either 
the rocket darts missed or there were a lot of mages on 
board," the pilot reported. 

Barrin's eyes dipped to catch the bombs as they exited 
the cloud of smoke, but the explosives failed to fall 
through. They reappeared after an obvious lag, falling 
farther to the rear than the bombardier had intended. The 
bombs exploded into giant green discs, covering the stem 
of the Keldon vessel. The ship listed to the port side, its 
steering apparently gone and the forces propelling it 
uncontrolled. 

"Grey Dove says its remaining bombs are hung up. They 
will turn to support our attack if they can." The attacking 
blimp was on the right side of the Hunter and beginning a 
turn to follow the larger aerial craft in. The bomb doors 
were still open, and the combination of poor aerodynamics 

49 



Prophecy 

and unexpected weight meant the ship was much lower 
than intended. 

Barrin saw the attack, but it was so quick that he was 
unable to respond. The envelope of the smaller blimp was 
smashed and the rigging tangled in an instant. The next 
strike he saw clearly. A drop of water leaped up from the 
sea. It was the size of a bathtub as it smashed the gondola 
into wreckage. 

"Sea archer!" shouted the navigator. 

Barrin could see the monster now. It body was reptilian 
and was at least sixty feet long. Its hide gleamed a dull, 
hideous shade of green with flashes of color as it reared out 
of the water. Its head was long and narrowed to an 
incongruously small mouth. The creature circled under the 
Kashan blimp it had just attacked. 

Barrin could feel the bank as the Hunter turned. The 
monster submerged and then resurfaced, its head questing 
toward the sky. The skull seemed to compress, and the 
monster nearly disappeared at the recoil as another blast of 
water sheared into the Grey Dove. Debris poured from the 
stricken blimp. The rear of the gondola shattered, and huge 
sheets of its envelope spun down into the sea. Three 
crewmen were tumbling toward the water as the airship 
began to rise, the sudden weight loss sending the blimp 
higher. Interior balloons inside the blimp burst, and all the 
lift shifted to the front of the vessel. The nose of the blimp 
jumped toward the sky. More debris and personnel fell from 
the dying craft. 

Teferi shouted, "I'll get—" and disappeared. 

"You would swear the sea beasts are fighting for the 
Keldons," the navigator whispered as the sea archer struck 
at everything falling into the water. 

"The enemy just throws bodies overboard, and monsters 
leave them alone," the pilot replied. 

50 



Vance Moore 

Teferi had jumped to the debris falling to the water and 
had grabbed a crewman, jumping back to the wardroom. 
Teferi disappeared again as the scream of a rescued man 
filled the cabin. It took a few seconds for the Grey Dove 
crewman to realize he was comparatively safe, and then 
Teferi jumped back with another crewman. 

Barrin tried to find some magical hold on the beast but 
there was none to be found. The sea archer was hunting 
prey for its own reasons. 

The nose gunner of the Hunter turned his launcher and 
sent a stream of rocket darts into the water. The single tube 
began to glow red from the heat, and Barrin could hear the 
man cursing as he corrected his aim. The monster lurched 
as two shots pierced its body. The well-placed darts 
smashed ribs and exploded tissue as they exited the other 
side of the beast. 

Barrin had spread his mental net wide, trying to snare 
the beast from the non-existent Keldon influence. Now he 
threw that net of calling out into the ocean. From miles 
around, sharks answered Barrin's summons, converging on 
the injured beast as a blood slick spread around the 
thrashing body. The water roiled, and the sea archer 
disappeared under the mass of hungry predators. 

"Gunner, aim for the Keldons right now!" the pilot 
screamed into the launcher compartment underneath the 
cabin. The beast's attack and Teferi's ongoing rescue of the 
crew had given the raiders too much time. The Keldon ship 
was only seconds from being under the Hunter's bomb bay. 
Suppression fire was vital. The enemy ship heeled hard as 
someone regained steering and overcorrected. 

Barrin felt the rush of energy even as the men below 
were pitched off their feet by the sudden change in the 
ship's direction. The Keldons fired, and Barrin braced 
himself for a hit as a ball of brilliant fire arched into the 

51 



Prophecy 

sky. By design or luck, it struck the Grey Dove. The 
hydrogen in its remaining cells ignited and leaped to the 
heavens in a sheet of flame, then the fuel and remaining 
armaments exploded, and the craft disappeared in a rain of 
fire. 

Teferi appeared, disoriented and dazed, in the 
command cabin, a charred body clutched in his arms—a 
final desperate attempt to save more crew from the doomed 
ship. The crew of the Hunter was shouting and trying to 
get to the planeswalker. Barrin, knowing how tough his 
friend truly was, moved up to the pilot's chair. 

The front gunner was now firing into the Keldon ship, 
stabbing repeatedly around the bow area, searching for an 
enemy mage. The pilot looked at Barrin as he set the bomb 
bays for drop. 

"I don't think we can allow those fellows to live," he 
said softly and tripped the release as they passed over the 

Keldons. Barrin could feel each bomb dropping away. 
He was consumed with witnessing every moment of the 
battle and ran to the rear gunner's compartment, the floor 
jumping as the ship raced to the sky. He passed Teferi 
without a glance and levitated over the still crewmen 
rescued from the Grey Dove. He reached the blimp's stern 
and the gunner's station. 

The bombs hit as Barrin peered through the window. 
Five of the projectiles missed, and huge columns of spray 
lifted high into the air. Three of the bombs smashed into 
the ship and plunged through the deck to explode in the 
holds. Then the Keldons' fuel and weapons added their 
power to the holocaust. Gouts of flame flew high into the 
sky, blooming into flowers of twisting fire and color. The 
ship lay hidden behind the smoke and spray. When the 
scene cleared, Barrin could see the Keldon ship had been 

52 



Vance Moore 

shattered into a spread of floating timbers and bodies. Were 
there any survivors? 

The rear gunner must have thought so, for he aimed 
and fired. This launcher was bulkier than the Hunter's 
forward weapon, and an assistant had to elbow Barrin aside 
as he loaded another shell. The clumps of debris continued 
to spread out as more wreckage and gear sank to the 
bottom. The gunner fired again. The shell exploded into a 
large net that fell to the surface. Barrin watched as a man 
thrashing in the water tried to get on top of a barrel. The 
net covered everything and detonated in a flash. Barrin's 
eyes jerked away, and nothing but fragments floated where 
the Keldon had been. 

"That isn't necessary, Gunner," Barrin said, numb after 
observing the battle. The gunner didn't say a word, but the 
loader inserted another shell into breech. The gunner fired 
the round before answering. 

"We can't rescue them, and nobody is in sight. If I had 
a choice between getting eaten and getting shot, I'd take 
shot." Barrin remembered the small mouth of the sea 
archer and the sharks converging on the area from his call. 
The long-lived mage said nothing as the gunner took aim 
again. 

53 



Prophecy 

Chapter 5 

Haddad hated serving as Latulla's aide. Her one 
redeeming feature, in Haddad's eyes, was the small freedom 
she allowed him to leave her presence. As long as he 
performed the tasks she set and averted his eyes downward 
when she looked at him, he could avoid supervision. But 
serving as her aide meant long periods of time in the 
company of Keldons, and that was always dangerous. 

Haddad had learned something about Keldon society. 
There were levels of challenge and dominance. A Keldon 
did not have to meet the eyes of a superior or attack an 
inferior to express the power. Sometimes warriors attacked 
the equipment or a slave of another Keldon. Haddad saw 
servants cuffed, beaten, and even killed to express power or 
belittle a superior without a full challenge. Latulla was a 
master of this technique. With a single well-placed blow of 
her staff, she could lay out a slave for days in excruciating 
pain without permanent harm. It wasn't kindness or pity 
that pulled her blow. An injured slave was a constant 
reminder of her authority and power. An inferior Keldon 
could not afford to kill one of a limited number of slaves. 
Latulla's every cruelty was calculated for maximum pain 
and effect on those involved. 

"We will be taking one of the small land barges today. 
Find the duty crew and instruct them to ready themselves," 
Latulla had directed. A slave who ordered or commanded a 
Keldon warrior always risked death. The fact that Latulla 
could use slaves to carry orders reinforced her authority in 

54 



Vance Moore 

the camp. It was a delicate balancing act that Haddad must 
perform. Too submissive and Latulla would punish him. 
Too forceful and the barge captain might kill him for 
presumption. As Haddad considered Latulla, he knew he 
would err on the side of arrogance rather than risk her 
displeasure. Besides, it was one of the few chances Haddad 
would get to tweak a Keldon's flat nose and not lose his 
head for it. 

Haddad had seen other sections of the camp since his 
inclusion in Latulla's household but had never ridden one 
of the small barges. The first step was finding where the 
small barges were located. Haddad stopped a slave he 
recognized as a crewman from his apparel and the tools in 
his belt. Barge slaves were allowed instruments that were 
considered weapons in other hands. The sharpened quill or 
hollow awl was sturdy enough to punch through leather 
armor. It pierced seals and drained out the magical elixir 
powering the Keldon barges. It was also used to fill 
reservoirs and refresh fluids quickly with the attachment of 
a simple bulb. He asked directions to the barges and their 
commanders in the extended camp. 

"This morning they've shoved us over toward the 
corrals. The fighting broke out again and disturbed the 
colony." The slave gestured to the empty pack he carried 
over his shoulders. His body was scarred and bruised by the 
casual brutality many of the lowest status Keldons 
expressed, both to reinforce authority and prove their own 
positions. "I'm to bring cheese back, if I can get any. There 
are ships coming in, we heard, and the storehouse may be 
relaxing the rations." The slave stepped off for the 
warehouses. 

Haddad felt a little jealousy as he watched the man 
striding away. What was the man's name? He realized with 
shame he hadn't thought to ask. He was seeing more and 

55 



Prophecy 

more signs that life in Latulla's household was changing 
him. The little courtesies were draining away and leaving 
watered down Keldon arrogance. The man had obviously 
suffered more physical abuse than Haddad had, but despite 
his bruises, he was in better spirits. He was happier as a 
worker for the lowest commanders than Haddad was as 
Latulla's voice. Haddad wondered how his own soul would 
fare a year from now as he set off for the small barges. 

Shouting and the odor from livestock pens were 
pervasive when Haddad finally arrived. The warriors here 
appeared only a little different from the slaves working on 
the barges. Haddad spotted the small purple standard flying 
over the overlord's tent. Lord Druik was reclining and 
napping in the surrounding noise. Haddad considered the 
titular commander of the small barge fleet with interest and 
a little wonder. Druik was huge, even for a Keldon. Muscles 
rippled as he stretched a little, his hand moving slightly as 
he dreamed. Druik's entire left side was damaged. His arm 
was missing from the elbow down. A hook was strapped on 
tightly, the straps circling the Keldon's chest with studs 
liberally applied to the harness and cup over the stump. 
The lower leg was likewise encased, and there were 
sheathes for two knives on either side above the knee. 
Haddad wondered why anyone with one hand would have 
weapons in so awkward a location. Druik's ribs on his left 
side were twisted and covered with scars. 

Druik was an anomaly to Haddad. Every Keldon he had 
ever seen held his place by force. Physical contests of 
strength were common even up the line of command. The 
jockeying went on at the highest levels of Keldon society. 
How a crippled warrior held even the ceremonial post of 
small craft commander was a mystery. 

A wave off to the side of the small tent caught 
Haddad's attention. A dainty table with a clerk sitting 

56 



Vance Moore 

behind it looked over the stockyards and the men hauling 
away dung. As Haddad approached, an especially pungent 
waft of stench set him coughing as the fitful breeze turned, 
putting the tent downwind of the smell. Haddad's eyes 
watered as he stood before what must be the first real 
bureaucrat he had seen since he left the League territory. 
He couldn't believe how happy he was to see a petty 
official. 

"What do you want?" the little man droned as he 
shuffled some papers, suggesting his time was valuable. "I 
don't have all day, you know." The official was looking 
right at him, and Haddad was now more accurately 
remembering the aggravation petty officials could give. 

"The Artificer Latulla commands a small land barge 
and crew be assigned to her convenience immediately for a 
trip to the interior camps. Additionally, I would like to 
know what you are doing here." Haddad could not keep 
hidden his admiration for the small scene of authority any 
longer. 

The small man smiled widely, his teeth coal black and 
his tongue a grotesque purple. He nudged a desk stool out 
and waved for Haddad to sit. His smile was amazingly ugly, 
but the good humor in it was a tonic to Haddad. He even 
offered Haddad some nuts as refreshment. 

"If you don't mind a smile like mine, these are really 
tasty." 

Haddad only nodded but declined to sample the dish. 
The official was quite tiny and fine featured. His eyes 
appeared to squint in the light, and his skin was pale. 

"My name is Fumash, originally of the Kipamu League 
Customs Service. Captured by long shore raiders as I 
inspected a cargo in harbor." Fumash was pensive, his 
hands slowly touching everything on the table as he spoke. 
"Not to dwell on the past, I arrived as one of the first slaves 

57 



Prophecy 

to this lovely port and started at the bottom of the bottom. 
The Keldons had just landed and were setting up. The 
imported slaves thought me above myself, and so I ended 
up here." Haddad looked around at the small comforts 
Fumash arranged for himself, even an awning to be set up if 
the sun grew too strong. Fumash saw his disbelief. 

"Don't be fooled. This is the bottom of the line. The 
Keldons on the other side of this tent have no status and fit 
into no clan or structure. They man small land barges, able 
to carry a few tons of cargo or a small squad of men. They 
are warriors, but they operate in very small groups. They 
are constantly being reassigned to any higher status Keldon 
who needs temporary transportation. They are nearly 
civilians." The hands searching the table found a thin sack 
of wine, and Fumash dumped out the dregs from a cup and 
offered a drink to Haddad. 

"Yes, please." He was grateful for the human gesture. 
Fumash paused in his story, and Haddad realized he should 
savor the wine. "Please continue," Haddad requested after a 
final swallow. 

"Well, you have a large number of Keldons constantly 
changing assignments in very small groups. Of course there 
are a huge number of fights." Fumash shook his head at the 
foibles of his masters. "Every night they tried to fight out a 
new structure, each morning about a quarter of them were 
smashed up with new crews forming and new conflicts 
arising for the next night. I don't know how it was in Keld, 
but here it was a mess. The slaves were even getting 
involved, trying to increase the glory of whoever their 
master was for that day. I wasn't doing very well." 

Haddad had to appreciate the man's sense of humor. 
Any Keldon would dwarf his small frame. In addition, 
human slaves working the vehicles could be rough indeed. 
But many officers curbed excessive discipline and valued 

58 



Vance Moore 

the loyalty and service that a slave could bring to small 
crews. There was still an ample supply of sadists and thugs 
working at the low end of Keldon society, but a master who 
valued you and considered you more than an animal could 
be found. 

"Eventually they put Druik in command. He was a hero 
in their homeland, you know. He has close ties to several 
commanders and warlords from his younger days, so 
everyone respects him. He might have had high office if he 
had remained on Keld, but he had to leave for some reason. 
But to the common warrior, he has achieved an automatic 
reception of support and loyalty. Even if someone were to 
challenge him, the other Keldons would pull the challenger 
down. Besides, he can still fight fairly well, enough to kill 
most warriors." There was an undertone of fondness 
Fumash soon shook off. 

"Now Druik keeps all the barge crews in stable units. 
The warriors still fight over duties, but there is less violence 
even if the arguments are just as loud. I was drafted to keep 
the records and clerk for Druik. I am also the official 
recorder of bets," Fumash said. 

Haddad had to laugh. "A gamemonger! How could you, 
a slave, ever get the money to cover bets?" Haddad couldn't 
imagine any slave having real power. 

"I record the bets and oversee the gambling the warriors 
do to establish status and decide duty schedules. By having 
them compete against one another, the urge to dominate is 
assuaged, and the loser is willing to accept a loss. He knows 
there is a chance he can win back his place tomorrow. The 
actual loss of warriors and slaves to dominance fights are 
lower than any other section of the camp. I also receive 
some advantage since I record and adjust the odds for many 
of the bets. As a representative of Druik, of course." 
Fumash apparently realized how long he had been talking 

59 



Prophecy 

and got back to business. "The land barge under Cradow is 
on service today. He is at the back of the field, the figure of 
a toad on the body and shield of his craft. Best you seek 
him now and ask him to report before the artificer grows 
impatient. Good luck to you." With that, Fumash began 
reorganizing his slates after checking off what must be 
Cradow's craft. 

Somewhat nonplussed by his abrupt dismissal, Haddad 
rose and set the emptied wine cup on the edge of the table. 
He walked to the back of the tent and saw the small barges, 
only three times the length of freight wagons. The Keldon 
warriors were working on their combat gear and ordering 
slaves to do maintenance. He turned one last time to look 
at Fumash and his small table embodying the height of 
human authority that Haddad had seen in the colony. For 
all of the small man's good nature, position, and 
acceptance for his work, Fumash still set up his table so he 
stared at the dung and stench of the stock pens rather than 
the Keldons he served. 

Eventually Haddad found the barge with the toad on its 
upper shield. The Keldons and the slaves looked at him 
with hostility as he called to see the warrior in charge. 

"I'll get Cradow then," a slave said. He walked back to 
the barge and shouted into its hold. 

Cradow was slightly smaller than the average Keldon, 
and he only grunted and muttered something about terrible 
luck as Haddad presented his authority token from Latulla. 

The barges were scattered all over the field in no 
particular order that Haddad could discern. Each crew 
camped in and around their machine. Haddad could see 
arguments and shoving breaking out as crewmen moved 
equipment to stake out their space. The barges were tiny 
castles, and each had its independent army trying to 
conquer as much space as possible. Haddad wondered what 

60 



Vance Moore 

it looked like before Druik and Fumash "organized" the 
barge crews. 

"Come on up, whelp," Cradow called. "The rest of you 
lot get ready to depart at once." 

Slaves and warriors began breaking down gear and 
throwing it into the barge. 

"Artificers hate to wait," Cradow explained to a warrior 
who was snarling as he did a slave's work in moving gear 
into the barge. The Keldon's comment was a common 
saying, judging from the nods of everyone within hearing 
distance, and Haddad had to agree as he gave directions to 
Latulla's dwelling. 

* * * * * 

The barge traveled for hours in almost utter silence 
with only occasional orders from Latulla to Cradow. The 
normal chatter and noise of a working crew were swallowed 
up by the silence centered on Latulla. When they began to 
draw near their destination, Haddad felt relief, even if the 
omens heralding their arrival were poor. 

It was the ungodly smell that signaled the camp. 
Haddad had seen massacres and smelled rendering yards, 
but the sheer scale of this stench rose far above any odor he 
had ever encountered. They were traveling down into the 
bowl of a long, stretched-out valley. There should have 
been a lake or a stream exiting toward the sea. Instead 
there was a temporary barn surrounded by a wall of thorns 
and vines. There were animals caught in the spikes and 
tangles of the surrounding barrier, and there were also the 
bodies of slaves and even one Keldon guard trapped in the 
deadly brambles. The dead warrior's head slumped as if in 
sleep, the flesh rotting and tattered from the efforts of 
scavengers. A gate broke the mounds of brush, and Cradow 

61 



Prophecy 

directed the vehicle with particular care as they entered. A 
bandaged and filthy Keldon left the darkness of the rough 
structure. He supported himself with a staff as he came to 
meet them. 

"Who comes to the Clinging Bogs?" he intoned as he 
shielded his eyes from the dim sunlight. He leaned on the 
staff and showed none of the vitality Haddad had seen 
even in the most crippled warriors back at the landing. 

"I am the Artificer Latulla, and I come for an 
accounting from the leader of this ... fortress." She looked 
around. There was only a great barn and nothing else—no 
barracks, cookhouses, or latrines. It was just a shell 
surrounded by disgusting mounds of decaying flesh and 
razor vines. "I wonder at the lack of guards. In fact, the 
smell is the only thing the enemies of Keld must fear. 
Where are your warriors?" 

"I am Lord Urit, and my warriors are where they are 
needed." Urit drew himself up a little straighter. He was 
shorter than many of the Keldons whom Haddad had seen. 

His face was gaunt and distorted by heavy brows and a 
massive jaw. His hands were huge, and swollen knuckles 
gripped his ebony staff. Haddad could see fine clothing 
under the mud, and he wondered how a commander could 
get in such a poor state. Urit gestured at the green wood 
and piles of rotting vegetation, his staff dripping as it swung 
to emphasize his words. 

"This is just a way station and doesn't need fortification 
or guards. If enemies ever try to burn it, I wish them luck. 
Only a mage could start a fire that can burn in these 
swamps. If I had more men, perhaps I could post a proper 
guard instead of trusting slaves!" Urit reined himself in 
with difficulty, and the passion that had animated his 
speech drained out of his face and posture. Latulla was 

62 



Vance Moore 

nonplussed at the near tirade, and Haddad wondered how 
she would react after her anger had festered for a while. 

"Certain changes must be made to your vehicle before 
you can continue," Urit announced as slaves opened large 
doors in the central building. "Without new traction 
devices fitted to your barges, you would mire before you 
reached the workings. I can provide some refreshment 
while the changes are made to your machine." 

"I am unfamiliar with the operations out here. I thought 
the pits themselves were some miles farther on." Latulla, 
grim as she was, faded into the background in the all-
pervasive gloom. "Who oversees the actual diggings?" 

"I am considered master of these bogs, Artificer. If any 
can be called master." He walked farther out to the gate. 
"Don't touch anything on the mounds, and try to walk on 
bare soil or mud." 

Some of the barge slaves drifted closer to the wall of 
greenery and were waved back. 

Lord Urit turned and called to the sheds, "Bring out the 
prisoner. I want to show our guests the strength of our 
'fortress.' " 

The prisoner was tightly bound hand and foot and 
gagged for good measure. His Keldon guard was forced to 
carry him, and at every step the captive bucked and fought 
with a strength that would have seemed lunatic anywhere 
else. In the poor light and the surrounding desolation, the 
slave's energy seemed almost demonic. 

The guard threw the prisoner down. "Please get rid of 
him now, Lord Urit. I'm sick of him." 

Lord Urit leaned on his staff and shook his head in 
agreement. "Call out everyone. A lesson isn't worth much 
if no one sees it." 

The guard turned to fetch the compound's slaves, and 
Urit reversed his staff and pinned the prisoner down. The 

63 



Prophecy 

slave was filthy and foul looking, his features shadowed by 
mud and stained with juices from cut vegetation. The mud 
marked everyone in the camp, and the slaves slowly 
gathering were as dull as the dirt that flecked their faces 
and collected on their clothes. Even the Keldon guards 
seemed lethargic. Lord Urit's stooped demeanor was 
replicated in his guards, and even the promise of a 
punishment excited little Keldon interest. The slave to be 
punished was different in the energy and frenzy of his 
movements. There were ulcers and sores on his limbs, but 
they were distributed all over, and Haddad knew it was 
more than the chains of slavery that had punished his 
body. 

Everyone was out of the shed and formed a rough 
semicircle with Lord Urit at its focus. He leaned on his 
stick hard, and Haddad heard the slave gasp as the haft dug 
into his belly. 

"We are here to punish a slave who would run. He tried 
to cheat the Keldon nation and everyone here of his labor. 

This sin merits death because his despicable act effects 
us all. Without loyalty, without the will to endure, we die. 
His death is more merciful than what he wished to inflict 
upon us." With that Lord Urit bent and picked up the 
slave. He raised him over his head and slowly walked 
toward the gate. He was unsteady, and the squirming of the 
victim threatened to overwhelm him. He cast the slave 
onto the interior slope of the mound with great force, and 
the body sank deep into the piled vegetation. It stuck 
there, and Haddad could hear a faint crackle and could see 
liquid soaking the clothes and limbs of the slave. There was 
a high keening and the body vibrated. How any sound 
could escape the cruel gag was a mystery, but Haddad could 
hear the snapping of bones as the tension in the slave's 
muscles went past the endurance of mere mortal flesh. Lord 

64 



Vance Moore 

Urit and Latulla watched the body until all life left it. Urit 
watched with weary eyes, but Latulla seemed to savor every 
tremor of pain and muted scream. Urit gestured to the 
body. 

"The vegetation that we piled up is thorny and 
poisonous. The animals of the land avoid it, and I thought 
a mound around the shed would make a fine fence. 
Unfortunately, it has taken root and new plants have 
begun to grow. Some are covered in a sap that grips tighter 
than a vise anything it touches. The other puts forth pods 
or buds filled with poison and seeds. When these touch 
flesh they break, soaking into almost anything and driving 
tendrils throughout the victim's body. I've thrown a chunk 
of firewood and found it rived by fronds in seconds. If we 
could, we would burn it and forget walls altogether, but it is 
too wet to burn and now too dangerous to cut and remove. 
We merely keep the interior of the circle clear, and I 
wonder how much longer that will be possible," Urit said, 
the hate thick on his tongue. 

"Burn it? Something so efficient and elegant in its 
operation? I think you overwrought by your isolation, Lord 
Urit," Latulla said, enraptured by the sheer deadliness of 
the barrier. "I believe these mounds serve your camp better 
than stone or wooden palisades." 

"As I said before, this is not the main camp. The 
barrack and my quarters are located three miles up that 
rise." Urit pointed up the slope of a gentle hill to where a 
muddy trail went up and over the side. "We had to go that 
far to get away from the stench and find ground firm 
enough to build on. I also wanted a well with water I could 
trust." 

"Interesting, but I didn't come here to get a history. I 
came to find out why production is so low. The largest 
concentration of tufa within easy distance of the camp was 

65 



Prophecy 

detected here, yet nothing has come out of these bogs 
despite the numbers of guards, slaves, and materials you 
have requested and received." Latulla was calm in her 
delivery, but the threat and anger behind her words was 
clear. 

"I am not sure we will ever get any Heroes' Blood from 
this land of muck." Urit was intense and livelier as he 
defended himself. "As foul and difficult as the land is here, 
it is much worse at the workings. Until you have seen them 
you can understand nothing." Urit gripped his staff tighter 
and met Latulla's eyes directly. "I will escort you myself. 
You will see that whatever your desires, the land will not 
meet them." 

* * * * * 

Lord Urit said not a word as the modifications to the 
barge were finished. Each leg of the machine now ended in 
a large shoe that reminded Haddad of a pontoon. The 
slaves finished tightening the last few bolts very slowly 
even after seeing the slave's death. 

"We work in a land more treacherous than any enemy's 
heart," Urit explained. "Without additional support the 
barge will bog down even though it was designed for any 
terrain. I often wonder how the Heroes' Blood was laid 
down in this domain of mud. The bravery and power of our 
ancestors was greatest in reaching the battlefield." 

Latulla took exception to this blasphemy. "You forget 
yourself, Urit," she exclaimed. "The Heroes' valor in battle 
is our legacy, not the conquest of a marsh." 

"You will soon see how hard it is to conquer a mere 
marsh," Urit replied. "Like any war, each battle with the 
mud has taught us new tactics—the additional traction 
devices for the barges, new methods of excavation, and 

66 



Vance Moore 

trying to preserve the warrior spirit in a land that mires 
every step. We are fighting, and no one outside the bogs 
seems to realize how desperate that fight is." 

Urit boarded the barge without permission from Latulla 
but seated himself in an inferior position. However the lord 
of the bogs viewed his challenge to Latulla and her ideas, 
he was playing a balancing act. Haddad couldn't read his 
intentions, but looking at the miserable countenances 
around him, Haddad realized that losing his life and 
position was not a realistic threat to make against the grim 
lord. The odor of rotting animals and bodies caught in the 
razor vine wall faded as they left the great shed behind, but 
the insects grew steadily worse, settling on everything like 
dirt in a dust storm. 

It was only twenty minutes before the barge moved into 
another cloud, this one of stench, of rotting flesh worse 
than the odor from the mounds around the transport shed. 
Cradow stopped the barge at Lord Urit's signal. Haddad got 
his first real look at the work site they had traveled so far to 
see. 

The centerpiece of the site was the system of cranes. 
They loomed over a pit, each resting on pilings and 
pontoons set into what looked like solid ground. Every 
structure reminded Haddad of piers and bridges set over 
water, as if the builders thought the ground might liquefy 
and try to swallow the mining camp at any moment. 

Even as he watched, one of the cranes began to move. 
The network of cables and counterweights jerked into 
motion. The bottom of each crane was connected to a long 
base that extended quite a distance behind the structure. A 
huge upright wheel on struts provided motive power. The 
wheels were very much like the prison wheels Haddad had 
seen illustrated in a manual on power transmission. 
Prisoners were forced to walk and climb for hours inside 

67 



Prophecy 

them until legal reforms and better engines ended the 
practice. Haddad was relieved to see each of the crane 
power wheels was connected to a small barge. Latulla was 
also observing the site and tilted her head at the 
innovation. 

"There is always a shortage of slaves," Lord Urit 
explained, "and the wheels went through them too fast. 
Besides, the insects drove the workers crazy when heavy 
lifting was called for. We had heat exhaustion and 
dehydration cases the first day workers were in the wheel. I 
ordered our technician to rig up a power transfer so we 
could use the barges." 

One of the active towers sent a large hook into the pit, 
and Haddad could hear shouting, then the application of 
power. There was a sound of suction being overcome and 
then the load eased. Slowly a large corpse rose out of the 
ground. It was several times the size of an ox. Mud dripped 
and water fell from the carcass as it finished rising out of 
the ground. The cable stopped rising, and there was a 
sound of gears and levers being thrown. Haddad lowered 
his eyes and saw men working inside the base of the crane. 
The cluster of machinery was obviously some sort of 
transmission that transferred the power of the wheel to the 
different cables and gears. Haddad could hear the gears 
engage, and the crane began to turn, swinging the animal 
slowly over to a giant stoneboat with very wide skids. 

"That's part of the reason work has been slowed. The 
bog has sucked down creatures of every size for uncounted 
millennia. Some of them weigh tons. They have never 
decayed. We've run into hundreds during our digging." 

"Dig somewhere else, on firmer ground," Latulla 
ordered. 

"Doesn't anyone receive the reports I send?" Lord Urit 
was exasperated and reigned in his temper with difficulty. 

68 



Vance Moore 

"The ground is too unstable for another place to be better. 
This bog alters ground consistency almost daily. What is 
firm today may run like water tomorrow. In fact, I 
requested additional lumber to lay out walkways at this site 
because of unpredictable ground consistency. This was the 
best place to dig, the artificers themselves said this was the 
closest point to the Heroes' Blood." Lord Urit started 
picking his way to the pit. Latulla and Haddad followed. 

The pit was actually walled with heavy planks. The 
instability of the soil forced the Keldons to shore up the 
sides as they dug down. The interior of the pit had several 
spars crisscrossing the interior as it sank. Hoses and hauling 
belts worked to keep water and mud flowing out. Haddad 
could see the corpses of many dead animals, entombed 
centuries ago and now exposed to the air, looking almost 
alive though covered in filth. A huge hog was almost 
completely exposed, and slaves called down a crane hook 
to lift it out. Haddad winced as the crane cable began to 
scream under a load. Latulla suddenly pointed off to the 
side of the pit. 

"What are they doing there?" she demanded in an angry 
voice. She was pointing to a small group of slaves and a 
Keldon overseer that were an island of calm in the 
thrashing, chaotic floor of the giant pit. The group seemed 
centered on a young girl, still splotched with mud but 
almost pristine in comparison to everyone else working. 
She was blonde and pale. She raised up her arms, her voice 
cutting through the pandemonium of the working slaves. 
Latulla tensed as she did when working magic, and Haddad 
wondered what spell she was readying. 

"The pit witch is conducting a ceremony to stabilize the 
soil in the pit and the surrounding ground, Artificer. Even 
with her spells, we still have to pump out water and 
reinforce the walls," Lord Urit replied. "If you are worried 

69 



Prophecy 

about her abusing her power, we have her family held at a 
remote location as a surety of her cooperation." 

"I don't care if you have a knife at her back twenty-four 
hours a day. She's flaring like a bonfire, and it's bound to 
attract something. She's uncontrolled." Latulla spoke, as a 
professional criticizing the technique of an amateur. 

"It's true whenever she conducts a ceremony we get 
more insects and animals coming into the area, but it is a 
small price to pay to keep the digging going," Lord Urit 
spoke flatly. "Unless you can replace her, we need her 
magic." 

"You know we can't send you artificers or magicians. 
They are too rare to spend on a project even this 
important." Latulla was pensive as she considered how 
overextended Keldon capabilities were on the continent. 
"Perhaps when you reach the tufa detected in the bowels of 
this swamp we will be able to shift real spell users here 
instead of slave trash." She paused, and Haddad saw the 
end of the ceremony. The ground everywhere in the work 
site seemed to quiver slightly, and on the pit floor, workers 
no longer fought suction as they moved soil and animal 
bodies to pallets to be lifted out. The soil being turned and 
moved could have been from rich farmland instead of a 
near swamp. 

"It's temporary, of course," Lord Urit said as even more 
frantic activity began on the pit floor. More workers were 
moving down ladders bolted to the wooden support walls. 
All the cranes were lifting out soil, and gangs of men at the 
rim moved wooden support sections to be lowered into the 
pit. "In less than an hour the ground will start turning into 
mud, and the pumps will be losing ground. It keeps getting 
worse the deeper we go, and we still don't know where the 
bottom is." 

70 



Vance Moore 

"It is that fact which will keep this a low priority 
operation, Urit," Latulla replied. "I will report home you 
are doing your best, but success is unlikely. For now, 
conquest of the western mines is a surer supply of tufa than 
your diggings here." 

Urit bridled at the statement that what he was doing 
was not very important, but remembering Latulla's power 
and position, he merely looked to the side. The inspection 
was over, and the artificer turned and walked quickly to her 
vehicle. 

Haddad ran ahead to ready the crew. Knowing the 
importance of this place, he continued to look around, 
memorizing the layout for the debriefing he would receive 
if he ever managed to escape. It was his eye that spotted 
movement outside the camp first. He stopped just as he 
reached the craft. Cradow was overseeing maintenance and 
followed Haddad's eyes as the slave skidded to a halt. 

"Darba!" Cradow cried in a voice that resounded over 
the entire camp. The Keldon shouted with such force that 
when he tried to order the crew, he could only gape like a 
fish for a few moments. 

Haddad saw a creature related to the parea—a giant 
carnivorous bird, but as it came closer, he gasped at its size. 
The monsters of the plains were flocks of chickens in 
comparison to this beast. It was at least twenty-five feet 
tall. Its feathers were green and brown, decent camouflage, 
perhaps, when it was a chick, but silly on a bird that could 
snatch up an ox. It moved toward the mound of dead 
animals hauled out of the pit. The huge muddy pile was 
obviously awaiting transport to a distant dumping site, but 
the bird had homed in on this pile of carrion rather than 
the huge mound of corpses that must exist somewhere else. 

"Ready for battle!" Cradow croaked and scooped up 
Haddad, throwing him into the barge as the crew 

71 



Prophecy 

scrambled among the gear. A large ballista was yanked 
from a crate and set on a stand bolted to the floor of the 
vehicle. Keldons from around the camp were converging 
on the vehicles and yanking out weapons and armor, but 
all the other barges were secured to cranes supplying power 
or attached to trailers piled high with debris. Only 
Cradow's craft was ready for quick action. Haddad had no 
idea what to do, so he helped another slave move a heavy 
spear and put it into brackets set into the floor. The craft 
sprouted lethal quills as Cradow called for action. Haddad 
gripped the deck as the barge began to turn, and he could 
see Lord Urit at the base of a crane trying to get a barge 
unhooked. Latulla retreated to the edge of the pit. 

"Hurry securing that bow!" Cradow directed the slaves. 
"Find the bolts and ready for a run." The two men he was 
pointing at stumbled to the gear and began digging for the 
bolts buried under Latulla's baggage. They tore loose the 
restraints, and the containers spilled throughout the 
interior as Cradow increased speed. 

"Throw that crap over the side," he commanded 
Haddad and another man. Haddad was throwing out 
Latulla's cases before he realized it. Perhaps he would die 
and the artificer would be unable to punish him. 

They completed their turn and were aimed at the 
carrion collection. The bird was pecking at the mound of 
flesh. Haddad was surprised to see the bird's wings holding 
the carcass of a great hippo. The wings were canted forward 
unnaturally, and Haddad noticed what appeared to be arms 
at this angle. The bird cut another chunk off and then fully 
extended its neck, regurgitating what it had eaten in a 
spray across the pile of meat. The corpses had not aged to 
the bird's taste while entombed in the mud. 

The movement of slaves caught its attention, and it 
turned and stepped quickly to the pit. Those still standing 

72 



Vance Moore 

dived into the excavation. The fortunate were climbing 
down the walls or sliding down cables—the screams of the 
unfortunate cut off as they reached the bottom ahead of 
the rest. The Keldons were roaring defiance, and a group 
under Lord Urit charged, the rush accelerating until it 
reached the creature. The beast's head dipped down, and it 
snared a pair of warriors. One was crushed to death, and 
the other looked like a doll caught by its arm as the darba's 
head rose out of the crowd. The victim's screams and the 
warrior's desperate attacks against its beak irritated the 
bird, and its forelimbs stabbed talons into the body, stilling 
it as the bird gulped down fresh meat. 

"Get out of the way!" Cradow boomed as he directed 
the barge after the bird. The predator stalked through the 
heart of the camp, its head diving to snare a victim and cut 
the man to pieces. It killed without eating, leaving a trail of 
body parts. The camp slaves who fled from its attack were 
blocking Cradow's path. "Fire the bow, you cowards!" 

The ballista was finally mounted and discharged. The 
darba's call of pain drowned out the rest of the camp as the 
bolt punched through the muscles of its leg. "Aim for the 
body, you idiots," Cradow ordered. 

"We're too close, ash face!" a slave screamed back, the 
moment overwhelming healthy survival instincts. The 
ballista was powerful enough to kill, but the angle was too 
steep to hit the vital organs of the bird while the barge was 
so near. Cradow's response was to ram the great bird. 

The barge came to a near halt as it hit the monster's 
leg. The multiple legs of the barge pushed up hummocks of 
dirt as the vehicle tried to trample the darba. The bird 
slammed down on the barge's overhead shell. The wooden 
canopy above Haddad's head proved stronger than the 
League technician had feared, withstanding the weight of 
the giant monster. Unfortunately, the weight was too much 

73 



Prophecy 

for many of the barge's legs. Haddad heard seals exploding 
under the sudden spike in pressure. The bird rolled off the 
top of the vehicle to the ground. Haddad could smell 
leaking Heroes' Blood as the bird struggled upright. 

"Get some distance before we lose all power!" Haddad 
shouted. If the barge stopped dead, the bird would dig out 
the crew like the meat from a nut. They needed more time 
and distance for a ballista shot. The slaves manning the 
weapon were dazed and scrambled to load another bolt. 

"Maybe the artificer can kill it," someone said, and 
Cradow sent the machine in a curving run along the edge 
of the pit. The collapsed legs gave the barge a rolling gait, 
the crew stumbling as the deck pitched beneath them. 
Haddad could see Latulla with her staff raised for a blow 
and wondered if her usual method of chastisement could 
work on a creature weighing tons. As the Keldon's stick 
fell, a wave of fire built and raced toward the creature. 
Unfortunately, the barge's malfunctioning controls took it 
into the spell's path. The men working on the ballista 
flamed into charred husks, and their bodies broke into 
pieces as they fell. Haddad looked out the other side of the 
barge, following the fire line as it converged with the 
darba, but the fire slowed and subsided as it reached the 
creature, the flames seeming to sink into the ground. When 
it hit the bird, it was far smaller and slower than Latulla 
had planned. 

The spell covered the bird in fire, and Haddad believed 
the battle over. Then the flames died and left the monster 
standing. The feathers that covered the bulk of the bird's 
body were carbonized, and as it took a few breaths, most of 
its feathers fell like melting snow off a roof line. Its flesh 
was red and burned, and its cry squealed through the air. 
The line of fire had crossed through the barge, and when 

74 



Vance Moore 

the beast's head dropped down, Haddad knew who it 
blamed. 

"Try to get a bolt loaded," Cradow said almost calmly as 
he took the barge out of the camp at the highest speed he 
could manage. Haddad looked helplessly at the charred and 
twisted weapon as the sound of the bird's charge echoed 
across the site behind them. All the slaves readied personal 
weapons. They would be useless, but that was all they had. 

Haddad's stomach seemed to fall, and he was stunned as 
the barge did likewise. They had run into a sudden mud 
hole that had appeared in their path, and the barge's limbs 
beat futilely as they dug the craft deeper into the mud. 

"Come on!" Haddad screamed to the man beside him 
and flung a small trunk as hard as he could off the side of 
the barge. He jumped out after it and landed on his belly, 
forcing out his breath. The mud seemed very hard as he 
eeled forward without air. He reached the crate he had 
flung with such hysterical strength and hauled himself on 
top of it, out of the mud. He sat with his head down 
between his legs, trying desperately to breathe, ignoring the 
world around him. 

When his head came up, the barge showed only the 
peak of the upper shell. Men and a few Keldons were 
throwing themselves through the mud in a mad attempt to 
escape from the darba. The monster had chased the barge 
and become mired as well, but it still struck at the men 
unfortunate enough to be too close. Slaves and Keldon 
warriors rushed from the work site and threw ropes to those 
stuck in the mud. Barge crew were pulled out of the mud 
and dragged yards over the surface. The pain on the faces 
of those rescued as their bodies were torn out of the mud 
stilled Haddad's urge to call for help. Hopefully, after 
things calmed down, more care would be used in rescuing 
people. 

75 



Prophecy 

The pit witch was standing and chanting, directing her 
attention to the ground around the still struggling darba. 
Haddad now realized why the ground had suddenly given 
way beneath the barge and the giant bird. He was feeling 
grateful to be alive when he saw Latulla force her way 
through the crowd to the edge of the new mud hole. She 
was almost white with rage at her failure to kill the bird. 
Haddad saw her swing her staff high and bring it down. 
Knowing his mistress, he curled his limbs on top of the 
crate and closed his ears. The explosion of steam and mud 
blotted out all other sounds, and he swore as the effects of 
Latulla's angry strike washed over him. 

* * * * * 

Haddad came to on the floor of a land barge. Outside 
he could hear Latulla and Urit talking, and he slowly sat up 
to observe the conversation. He winced in pain and 
wondered at the numbness of his hands and face. His arms 
were smothered in some medicinal salve, and he knew it 
must be numbing extreme pain. 

The entire encampment was getting into wagons and 
sleds hooked up to land barges. The site was closing down 
for the night and the workers were getting ready to move to 
the firmer ground of the housing camp. 

"We must have more barges and war manikins," Urit 
was saying. "The losses would have been much smaller with 
decent heavy weapons. This is the first time a darba has 
gotten into the site, but we have seen them before. Send 
more material." He was emphatic, but his lowered eyes 
spelled out his inferior status before the artificer. 

"Keld cannot afford to reinforce failure. You will have 
to succeed with what you have before we can move more 
equipment to you." Latulla looked over the site one last 

76 



Vance Moore 

time, "Dismount all the barges supplying power, and go 
back to using slaves in the wheels. The barges' weapons can 
kill the birds if you use them properly and at a distance." 

"But that means more slaves will die, and we'll have to 
implement harsher discipline to keep them at work," Lord 
Urit replied. "It is more cost effective to use machines if 
possible." 

"We can always find more slaves," Latulla said 
derisively. "We expect to have more prisoners coming in 
soon. Until then, make the mud witch work harder. You 
must succeed in producing tufa from the depths of the 
swamp. I or another artificer will be out here in a month to 
see that you do." 

77 



Prophecy 

Chapter 6 

The Keldon fleet was coming in. The ships in port were 
not the fast sailors that Haddad expected to see, 
considering the distance that they had supposedly come. 
Perhaps the more seaworthy craft were keeping out to sea, 
patrolling for League vessels. The ones that had pulled into 
the port were tubs. Wallowing in the water, they were 
nothing like the rakish raiders that Haddad heard stories 
about. As the crowd grew on the docks, Haddad drifted to a 
higher vantage point. He climbed to the veranda of a house 
and was surprised to hear his name called from the crowd. 
He looked down into a wide black smile. 

"Fumash!" Haddad exclaimed. "Why aren't you outside 
Druik's tent? You didn't have a problem with the general, 
did you?" Haddad was expansive with this stolen moment 
of freedom and even a poor joke seemed humorous. 

"He'll be here later," the clerk replied. "A hand up 
wouldn't be refused." 

Haddad bent down, and Fumash seemed to fly up as 
Haddad pulled. 

"Look's like a lot of activity out there. More gear 
coming in," Haddad said as stevedores unloaded one ship. 
The Keldon warriors and sailors began to disembark, 
kicking aside the slaves trying to unload the ship. "I despise 
them, I think." Such sentiments were dangerous to say 
aloud where someone might hear, but Haddad felt he could 
trust Fumash, though he realized he was taking a chance 
with someone he barely knew. 

78 



Vance Moore 

"We all despise them," Fumash replied. "Only a fool 
loves slavery. I serve a master who is comparatively kind 
because I provide clerical skills not commonly found in the 
camp. Yet his kindness is due to his lack of interest in 
overseeing me, not any innate goodness. As long as sleep 
and drinking with old cronies engages him, I am safe. But 
he has severely injured slaves when drunk or angry. 
Perhaps in Keld their servants love them, but not here." 
Even as Fumash spoke his bitter words, he smiled and 
nodded to the crowd, not wanting to appear furtive. "Look 
attentive, Haddad. We are looking for our masters from 
this high point. Remember?" He even pretended to point, 
then shake his head as if he was mistaken. The habits of 
deception were deeply engrained by now. 

"Fumash, we both hate being here. If we don't like it, 
perhaps we should leave." Haddad kept looking over the 
crowd and speaking in an even tone, but surely Fumash 
knew he wasn't talking about the balcony. 

"Why haven't you left before now? If you are looking 
for something, you should have spotted it by now and been 
on your way," Fumash said. Now he was swinging his wallet 
around and drew papers out of it. He held them up to the 
sunlight as if reading them, but his eyes were focused inside 
rather than on the paper. 

"I am ready to go but need aid in finding the way." 
Haddad thought of all he could relate to League forces and 
moved his head closer to Fumash's to confer more 
privately. 

"Keep your distance, sir," Fumash said almost primly 
and handed another document to Haddad. "Two birds 
close together can mean a nest and something hatching, as 
any bird watcher could tell you." The man's chin jerked to 
the crowd and the Keldons organizing the square. 

79 



Prophecy 

"Bird watching is an excellent hobby, though it is quite 
dangerous around here. A man would get only a few miles 
before something snapped him up." Haddad kept his tone 
light and stared through the paper as he jerked his chin 
briefly at the growing organization in front of them. 
"Perhaps bird watching might be easier at sea. If the 
watcher knew how to use a boat." Haddad was a landsman 
through and through, but the dangers of fleeing overland 
seemed too great. Better to risk the unknown. 

"A man familiar with boats might spot quite a few birds 
if he was far enough out to sea. The waters around here are 
too dangerous, but out where there is sea, one might spot 
all manner of interesting birds. And of course, many shores 
are safer for the bird watcher than this one." Fumash took 
the paper out of Haddad's hands and stood up, folding the 
paper and placing it in his wallet. "I myself will be putting 
to sea in the near future, accompanying Lord Druik back to 
Keld. I might do some bird watching, looking for nocturnal 
flyers. Perhaps you will accompany your mistress on the trip 
as well. It would be very useful to have someone besides 
myself helping me, carrying supplies, jotting down notes 
and so forth." Fumash finished arranging his kit and then 
waved as if to someone in the crowd. Haddad accepted the 
information that he might be dragged thousands of miles 
without blinking an eye. 

"Perhaps we will be able to find something interesting 
at sea." Haddad also stood and waved to the crowd in 
general before following the little man down. Of course, 
considering the number of people Haddad had seen 
devoured by parea, no one would have accepted his interest 
in bird watching as likely. The habits of deception were 
becoming engrained in Haddad as well. 

Haddad went only yards before another slave hailed 
him. 

80 



Vance Moore 

"Latulla has tasked all members of her household to 
finish unloading the barge. Absence will be noted and 
punished, so you best get there quick." The slave pointed to 
the emblem on Haddad's clothes and continued on his 
way, looking for other members of the house who had not 
received the news. 

Haddad stepped smartly, knowing the thoroughness 
with which Latulla could express herself. He had not been 
on the docks themselves, only viewed them from a 
distance. The pier was rough and already showing signs of 
weathering and peeling that signaled the hurried 
construction. The Keldons suffered that failing on many 
construction projects that used locally "acquired" labor. 

There were two ships at dock. The overseer of the 
nearest asked Haddad his name and marked it off a list. He 
was relieved to see that he was not the last to arrive and 
should escape Latulla's displeasure. He was waved to the 
ship farther down the dock. It was wide with stubby masts 
fore and aft, and it was tied to a thick bollard on the pier. 
Haddad expected to see the stub of a broken middle mast, 
but instead there were a series of hatches. He joined a work 
party and passed a line of slaves carrying sacks that strained 
their backs, turning their faces bright red. Haddad couldn't 
help thinking that a crane would be of more use here than 
stuck in the bogs farther inland. 

The crew chief called them around and shouted over 
the groans of the other work parties. 

"We will be assisting a mage moving warriors out of 
stasis. Work as directed, and you may ask questions freely. 
We will have no accidents. Any accident or damage to the 
warriors will be severely punished. Now come on." He 
turned and walked down a steep stairway that led to the 
hold. The chief cuffed and bludgeoned his way through the 
slaves, then led Haddad and the rest below decks. 

81 



Prophecy 

The hold was dark, and they went to a corner farthest 
from the light. A comparatively slender Keldon sat on his 
heels as slaves removed the last of several sacks from pallets 
and moved everything away from the hull. All Haddad 
could think of was coffins as he looked at several dozen 
long narrow crates stacked and tied down with cargo 
netting. They were even corralled by brackets secured to 
the body of the ship itself. 

"Move the first one down carefully," the overseer 
instructed. 

Haddad noticed that all the slaves were in good shape 
and took it as another sign of the value of the cargo. Four 
men moved in concert, talking to each other as they 
carefully unhooked the nets and unscrewed the brackets 
that locked the crates into a single static unit. They moved 
the top crate slowly onto a set of supports. The crew boss 
broke the seals and swung the lid open. A Keldon warrior 
in full armor, weapons, and other gear filled the interior of 
the crate. 

"What the nine hells is going on?" he whispered to the 
man beside him. Given permission to ask questions, he was 
definitely going to take advantage. 

"Just watch. It will all become obvious in a minute," the 
slave replied, though he too looked on in obvious interest. 

The Keldon mage rose off his heels and approached the 
body. The slaves cleared away though they stayed close in 
case they were needed. The mage reached under his cloak 
and pulled out a censer and tinderbox. It took him a 
moment to light the censer, then he swung it just over the 
head of the still warrior in very small arcs. The smoke 
poured into the crate slowly, like thick honey, and seemed 
to be absorbed by the body. The mage chanted quietly but 
lacked the tension that Latulla exhibited when she 
practiced magic. When the apparent corpse opened his 

82 



Vance Moore 

eyes and began to breathe deeply, Haddad was startled but 
not totally surprised. 

"Welcome to the Land of Heroes," the mage said and 
continued to swing the smoking censer. "It will be at least a 
few minutes before you may rise. You and your brothers will 
find glory and honor in these lands." 

The crew chief motioned for another crate to be set 
down. 

"I am always surprised they wake up from that sleep," 
the slave standing beside Haddad commented as they 
waited their turn to work. Already another crate was being 
opened. 

"The first time I thought it necromancy, as did you, I 
am sure." The sailor looked not much older than Haddad, 
but he sounded richly paternal as he shared knowledge 
with one who was ignorant. 

"Keld is thousands of miles away, and they don't have 
the greatest ships despite their reputation as pirates. They 
could never ship enough people and supplies to this base 
without some tricks up their sleeves. The warriors without 
sufficient rank or power are boxed up like cargo and 
shipped here. They ingest a philter of a drug that freezes 
them in a deathlike state. The warriors lie down in crates, 
are dusted with certain powders, and then sealed up. They 
travel here without having to eat, drink, or engage in other 
activities." 

The mage was chanting again and swinging the censer. 

"A magic user isn't even necessary. It's the smoke that 
does the job. I've seen crewmen wake up warriors in transit 
without any magic at all. Just a match and a handful of 
leaves." 

The crew boss waved Haddad and three others to 
replace the previous team. Haddad instantly realized why 
the slaves were all in good condition and were being 

83 



Prophecy 

rotated on the detail. The crate was solidly constructed, 
and the Keldon inside was not light. The slaves all 
exercised great care, realizing that their punishment would 
be swift and sure should they mishandle anything. Even 
with the weight and danger of punishment, the job soon 
became simple repetition. However, as Haddad and his 
crew reached the bottom layer of crates, the job became 
anything but routine. 

Haddad was opening a crate, and as he began to lever 
up the lid, he noticed the smell. The stink of the bilge 
prevented his nose from noticing before. It was semisweet, 
but it tickled the back of his throat, and he had to repress 
the urge to gag. Remembering the permission granted him 
to ask questions, he spoke to the overseer. 

"I think there's a problem here." 

The crew boss was talking quietly to other workers on 
the detail but came over instantly at Haddad's interruption. 
The mage also rose from his crouch and approached. 

"What is it?" the Keldon demanded. 

"It's an odor, Lord. It is only noticeable up close but 
seems very strong," Haddad explained. 

They had been working for quite some time, and the 
hold was deserted. The mage called for another light to be 
lit so he could see the crate. He held the lantern and 
inspected the crate closely. His cry of anger drove most of 
the other slaves away. Haddad knew it was dangerous, but 
he had to know what provoked such a reaction. The mage 
turned and loomed over Haddad, his face flushed and dark 
as a storm cloud. 

"Get it open, right now!" he hissed, trying to reign in 
the usual Keldon impulse to take out anger on his inferiors. 

Haddad silently set the point of his crowbar into the 
latches and threw his weight onto it. Unlike the earlier 
crates, there was no rush or puff of air as a seal was broken. 

84 



Vance Moore 

The smell grew stronger as he worked the other latches, 
each release seemed more odorous than the last. When the 
last catch was thrown, the mage could restrain himself no 
longer. He reached past Haddad's shoulder and threw the 
lid wide open. 

It took Haddad's eyes a moment to evaluate the 
contents of the crate. The slaves with the lamps retreated 
as Haddad tried to puzzle out what the warrior was wearing. 
Then a lamp holder moved closer, and the technician 
could see clearly. The coffin was alive with insects and 
maggots. The insignificant creatures retreated under and 
into the body as the light drove them to cover. The 
features of the warrior were twisted, and he seemed to 
grimace as parasites under the shrunken skin moved. 
Haddad looked on in horror for only a moment and then 
turned his head aside. He fell to his hands and knees. 
Everything he had eaten that morning spewed out as 
spasms racked his body. When Haddad could finally stand, 
he could see the other slaves had retreated away from the 
mage. The Keldon's body radiated tension that usually 
signaled magic. The less knowledgeable slaves saw it as 
blinding rage. Haddad wondered which it was as he spat 
and tried to clear his mouth, wishing vainly for some water. 

"Filth," was all the mage said as his hand pointed at the 
corpse, but Haddad felt the flash of heat rising from the 
crate. The sound of the body cooking and the destruction 
of the parasites in the crate were the only sounds. Haddad 
could see the wide eyes of the other slaves as they realized 
the danger of such magic in the confines of the ship's hold. 
Then the smell of meat cooking hit his nostrils and sent 
him to his knees again. He could think of nothing as his 
body tried to empty a vacant stomach. 

Shouts of panic, Keldon panic, made him look up after 
vain attempts to be sick. One of the awakened Keldons had 

85 



Prophecy 

heard the commotion and then had seen the body and its 
heat treatment. At the sight of a magic user destroying the 
contents of a transport crate, the warrior drew a long knife. 

"What are you doing?" he screamed, tottering forward 
to threaten violence. "Warriors to me!" The strange sounds 
and odors from the hold were ignored by the deck crew, but 
a direct Keldon appeal for aid brought several sailors with 
knives sliding down ladders and stairs into the hold, 
throwing slaves out of the way to reach the mage and the 
warrior. 

"Stop!" the magic user said loudly. "This crate was 
infested, and the occupant was dead. The slaves can 
confirm it." Haddad and the rest nodded their heads and 
prayed to be outside as several Keldons swore and looked at 
them closely. 

"There may be other crates whose protections were 
violated," the mage continued. He pointed to a Keldon 
sailor. "Go to the Artificer Latulla, and tell her to come 
with a group of controlled slaves here." The sailor departed 
at a run. 

"Take these other slaves on deck and hold them there," 
the magic user directed. "Latulla may wish to interrogate 
them." 

The Keldon sailors immediately began to cuff and shove 
Haddad and his fellow slaves toward the main stair. The 
slaves ran up the steps quickly as the sailors relayed the 
order to hold them on the ship. The slaves were hustled 
forward until they were in the bow. They crowded against a 
set of holed benches over the water, and Haddad realized 
they were in the latrine. 

The slaves sat down en masse, and no one spoke. 
Haddad could clearly see the gangplank. Latulla strode 
aboard and into the hold, closely followed by a group of 
slaves. Each slave wore a bracer or armband of metal. 

86 



Vance Moore 

Haddad had seen slaves throughout the camp with such but 
never assigned much meaning to it. Now he realized that it 
conferred some special status, and he wondered what that 
status was. The mage requested controlled slaves even 
though Haddad and the others showed no sign of rebellion 
whatsoever. How were these new slaves different? What 
power did the Keldons have over these slaves beyond what 
they held over Haddad? He pondered these questions in 
silence as the day passed. 

Throughout the day slaves used the facilities so 
conveniently close by as they waited in the sun. Water and 
food appeared, and Haddad nodded his thanks as a cook's 
assistant for the ship distributed rations. One brave or 
foolish slave started to ask what was happening, and the 
butt of a Keldon spear hit his temple before more than a 
few words issued from his mouth. Haddad and another man 
lifted him up and carried him to the very bow of the ship. 
They signaled another slave to keep him quiet and hoped 
that any sound the man made when he regained 
consciousness would be too quiet to invite more 
punishment. 

Night arrived, and as the guards changed, the cook's 
assistant passed out blankets and more food and water. 
Haddad knew from the anxiety on the man's face that he 
was doing it without any orders and wondered at the man's 
quiet courage in caring for others. 

At midnight there was a guard change, and Haddad 
thought he recognized the soldiers. They were among those 
awakened from stasis during the day. They seemed to stare 
at the opening to the hold more than they watched the 
prisoners. Haddad could guess what they thought. Each 
guard must be thinking about how easily he might have 
died. Two of the warriors talked, only stopping when other 
Keldons came close. 

87 



Prophecy 

"How could it have happened?" asked one. "I was told it 
was safe." 

"It is safe!" the other excitedly replied. "I have been in 
stasis several times, and there were no problems. I know 
warriors who were down as long as a year and there were no 
deaths." The more experienced warrior looked coldly at the 
slaves sitting on deck and spoke quietly, though Haddad 
could still hear him. 

"I think it was sabotage," the guard said. "Someone put 
those insects in or violated the seals to kill the warrior 
inside. It may have even been done during the voyage by 
one of these slaves." Both warriors were fingering their 
weapons now. Haddad wanted to explain there was no way 
he could be guilty, but three things held him back. First, he 
would be passing blame onto other slaves. Second, he was 
glad to think that a slave had killed a warrior and probably 
got away with it. Third, drawing attention was suicide in 
the presence of two angry Keldons. Haddad felt relief when 
the guards were replaced. The new warriors were not so 
vocal in their suspicions, though their hands caressed the 
hilts of their swords. Finally, too bored and cold to worry, 
Haddad drifted off to sleep. 

88 



Vance Moore 

Chapter 7 

"Get up! Get up!" The shouting woke Haddad, and he 
scrambled to his feet. A sailor stood before the slaves. 
Crewmembers helped stiff longshoremen up and collected 
the blankets and the buckets of fresh water provided them 
the night before. 

"You are to return to your quarters and say nothing of 
what you have seen or heard. Tell your master that you 
have been ordered by the Artificer Latulla to reveal 
nothing." The sailor pointed to a man setting up a table 
and book by the gangplank. "Give your name and master 
before leaving the ship, so your story may be confirmed. 
Now get off the ship." 

Haddad was in back, and it took quite some time before 
he was walking down the gangplank and toward Latulla's 
quarters. Though the sun was still being born in the east, 
the docks were crowded. Wagon after wagon lined up along 
the streets and every driver cursed the delay. The ships 
were reloading as crews and longshoremen toted their loads 
aboard. Once a wagon was empty, it was put to work 
hauling away cargo from ships that came in the day before. 
Haddad wondered at the level of activity, because usually it 
was days unloading a ship, and the screaming Keldon 
overseers wanted it done in hours. 

He struggled his way through the current of wagons and 
slaves. When he arrived at Latulla's quarters, he found the 
gatehouse open. He could see wagons being loaded by 
exhausted members of the household. Lamps and torches 

89 



Prophecy 

were still set out and burning. From the faces of Haddad's 
fellow servants, the work had been going on all night. 

"Haddad! Where the devil have you been?" screamed 
Briach. The chief servant was drawn and his eyes red with 
lack of sleep. He stepped toward Haddad, his hand going 
up for a cuff, but Haddad snarled back. The technician was 
too tired and aching from a night on deck to take abuse 
from another slave. 

"I was kept by Latulla's orders, and that is all you need 
to know!" Haddad clenched his fist and tried to rein in his 
temper, but he found it difficult. "Where is Latulla? I will 
need to report to her now that I've finally been released." 

Briach's face went still as he took in Haddad's defiance. 
"You will find the mistress in her workshop." Briach 
gestured to the outbuilding up against the compound wall. 
Haddad turned without a word and strode off, kicking the 
ground in anger. 

"Keep a civil tongue, or she'll have it out," Briach 
called after him when he was a safe distance away. Haddad 
heard only the rumble of hunger from his stomach and 
wondered if he would be able to find a meal in the chaos of 
the morning. 

Latulla was directing the packing of various projects as 

Haddad entered the workshop. The shutters were 
thrown wide, and lamps were burning, but it was still dim 
inside. Haddad did not know the slaves in the room by 
name, but he recognized them as the banded slaves from 
the night before. They must have arrived with the ships 
just come in, and they had already displaced Latulla's 
regular helpers. Once again Haddad wondered what special 
talents they possessed. 

"Finally you're here, Haddad." Latulla turned around, 
her hands full with apparatus that she was packing herself. 
"We are leaving with the fleet in only a few hours. Pack up 

90 



Vance Moore 

your tools and manuals and anything else you will need for 
working on war machines. Bring the instruments you would 
need for fine work." 

Haddad turned and slowly walked toward the locked 
cabinets holding his personal gear and tools. All the 
cabinets were open, and manuals and workboxes from 
other members of his old unit lay out. His eyes misted as he 
looked on the remnants of his former life. 

"Most of the parts are already crated for shipment to 
Keld with us," Latulla called after him. "Hurry packing, and 
you can catch a meal before we have to pull out." Haddad 
turned and stared. Surely someone else was speaking. 
Latulla was almost smiling as she directed slaves doing the 
packing. Consideration was something he never expected 
from the artificer, and it left a strange taste in his mouth. 
He started packing a crate and writing an inventory of the 
tools and books he sealed away. 

It took hours to finish loading. Haddad barely managed 
to get food and his personal kit before reporting outside. 
Latulla ordered him into the wagon for the ride down to 
the dock. Walking would have been quicker and more 
comfortable, but he was tasked with preventing theft. The 
material was all to go to Keld. Though warriors had picked 
over the booty when first captured, many wanted a last 
chance to snatch a piece before it headed north. Haddad 
bore Latulla's emblem, and her sigil on the wagons kept the 
warriors away. Except for Haddad, it seemed no other 
member of the household would be traveling north with 
Latulla. Haddad prayed that he would not have to serve as 
her personal slave. Haddad would miss Briach's unseemly 
passion for slavery if he had to constantly attend to 
Latulla's needs in the steward's place. Reaching the dock, 
Haddad could see the frantic pace of loading the ships had 

91 



Prophecy 

slowed. Latulla's wagons were among the last to be 
unloaded by exhausted longshoremen. 

"Hurry up you fools, we need to depart immediately." 
The style and dress of the Keldon speaking suggested that 
this was the ship's captain. If so, Haddad hoped he could 
read the sea better than he read Latulla's uncertain temper. 

"What did you say, Captain?" Latulla called as she 
stalked up the gangplank, her hands grasping her metal-
shod staff. 

"I apologize, but we must set sail immediately." The 
captain sounded rushed rather than apologetic as Haddad 
slung his personal gear and bedding onto his shoulder. "We 
were late getting in, and if we take too long we'll have 
League trouble for sure." 

"I thought their ships stayed out of these waters?" 
Latulla leaned against the rail and watched Keldon 
crewmen running crates and sacks of her gear up the 
gangplank. The sight of the gray-skinned sailors doing 
slaves' work showed Haddad how short time was. 

"You can't find a ship, but their cursed aerial patrols are 
starting to sortie from their rebuilt base out west. Someone 
will need to burn that out or shipping is going to cease." 
The captain gestured to the men forward to prepare to cast 
off. 

"Still, why the rush?" Latulla eyed the final stragglers 
coming aboard and some of the longshoremen held each 
other up as they almost fell down the gangplank. A crude 
temporary crane dropped a wagonload into the hull with a 
crash. 

"Haddad," Latulla called. He stepped closer and 
wondered if he would be preparing her cabin. "As soon as 
the last crane load is in the hold, go down and see to the 
storage of the cargo. I want a check of the inventory and 
description of any broken containers. Draft sailors to aid 

92 



Vance Moore 

you as necessary." The captain finished signaling his orders 
to the crew, and she turned back to him with an expectant 
air. 

"There are supposed to be long-shore raids today 
through the dawn in the far west," continued the captain. 
"It should drag their air patrols away and mask our 
departure. But until we rendezvous with the war ships in a 
week, we have no protection against attack. We need to 
get away from this port. All ships are to sail alone in case 
some are discovered, and I want to be ahead of the rest. 
Now I suggest that you make sure you have your gear 
onboard because I want to make way the second we can." 
Haddad saw that there were only a few loads left to go and 
went to start his task. 

His first discovery in the hold was a pleasant one. 
Fumash, the small customs inspector, was looking over the 
cargo, checking its condition and security in case of storm. 
A broad black smile showed as Haddad hurried forward to 
talk to the little man. 

"What luck!" exclaimed Fumash. "I was just wondering 
who might help me in the difficult execution of my duties. 
Who should appear but my good friend Haddad?" He 
turned to a crewman assigned to help him. "Go back to 
your regular duties, please. Your aid is appreciated, but your 
own tasks must surely call to you." 

The crewman looked exhausted from working all night 
and most of the day preparing for departure. He only shook 
his head and stumbled deeper into the hold, looking for an 
out-of-the-way spot to catch a nap. 

"Shout when you are through," the crewman called 
back. 

"Trusting soul," Haddad said, thinking on the probable 
punishment for napping on duty. 

93 



Prophecy 

"The tired do not think clearly. Besides, the rest of the 
crew is working farther forward, securing gear in the second 
hold." Sunlight shadowed the pair as they crouched, 
checking cargo ties among the crates. 

"So Druik is onboard and bound for home," Haddad 
inferred. "I was surprised not to see him on deck." The 
cargo they were now processing bore Latulla's mark, and 
Haddad began to write on the slate he had grabbed from 
his gear. The words were almost illegible in the poor light. 
"Still interested in the birds of the outer islands?" 

"Master Druik is in the cabin he and I share. I am 
checking his personal baggage." Fumash began chalking on 
a slate that squealed piercingly as he wrote. "And I am 
always interested in birds, though I doubt this is the time to 
discuss any expeditions." 

"When would be a better time?" Haddad looked around 
and motioned Fumash to crouch behind the crate so they 
might talk freely. "The crew is completely exhausted, and 
we are unobserved for the moment," he whispered. "The 
captain said the ship sails alone for the next week. The 
farther we sail the more difficult it will be to find our way 
to the League. Do you want to wait until we reach Keld to 
escape?" 

"Sea air has made you far too trusting," Fumash 
whispered back. He rose, and Haddad followed though 
Fumash only went a few steps before crouching out of sight 
again. "We are inspecting the cargo, remember?" Once 
again Fumash began scraping on his slate, though only 
random lines. 

"Perhaps the sea air has affected me as well," Fumash 
continued. "I have long since had my fill of Keldon 
hospitality. We will go three nights from now." 

"Why so long?" questioned Haddad. "The crew is tired 
now and will be busy getting the ship ready for the voyage." 

94 



Vance Moore 

Haddad swore loudly then, as if discovering some problem. 
Fumash glanced up to check the hold for anyone else. 

"Because no matter how tired the crew is, the captain 
will maintain a careful watch as long as we are in coastal 
waters—both to prevent escape and spot League air patrols. 
In three days we will be far enough from land that he will 
relax his watch. We'll grab a boat and sail for the eastern 
islands. We'll hide there for a few days and gather as much 
food and water as we can. If the Keldons are practicing 
raids, we'll wait a few days and then run west. In the deeps 
maybe we will miss some of the monsters that exist inshore. 
If we are lucky, we'll be spotted by our air patrols." Fumash 
signaled that their conference was at an end. "Don't stock 
up any supplies. It's too likely to be spotted and warn the 
guards. Besides, we'll grab food just before we leave." 
Fumash began to walk away, and Haddad could still barely 
hear his last whispered comment. 

"If we are really lucky, the League won't sink us when 
we are spotted." 

* * * * * 

The dawn of the second day found Haddad slowly going 
mad with impatience. He spent hours slowly reviewing 
what he knew of the Keldon plans. While he knew the 
physical layout of the military colony quite well, he was 
unfamiliar with the Keldon tactics. Just how useful he 
would be as a source of military intelligence was open to 
question. Still, any idea of what lay at the heart of the 
Keldon incursion would have to be useful. 

Haddad walked by a ship's boat one more time. He was 
unable to stop himself from inspecting the boat, so he 
rationed his glances. For cover, he toured the entire ship. 
He even got down to the power source for the ship's 

95 



Prophecy 

propulsion. He expected to see a shaft or moving 
machinery, but even with his background in large 
machinery, he was mystified at how the engine worked. It 
appeared that there were no working parts, no hydraulic 
transfer of power, and no powerstones. The engine just sat 
in the middle of several tanks like a pile of scrap. There was 
no sound of load or power. Something in that assemblage 
of parts was slowly and steadily assisting the sails in pushing 
the ship north, but he still wondered if it wasn't a trick 
played on him. 

The crew, both human and Keldon, seemed merrier 
than the people he knew on shore. Perhaps it was because 
the line between the races blurred under the demands of 
shipboard life. The equality that Haddad saw working 
subtly in land barges was much stronger at sea. Part of it 
was the elevation of knowledge or skill that allowed slaves 
a new level of freedom in working the sails and managing 
the deck gang. Haddad thought it might also be because 
this was a transport vessel, and the Keldon identity as 
warriors just wasn't as valuable when the primary 
responsibility was transporting cargo. When he heard 
women usually oversaw such supply responsibility, he was 
surprised. The only Keldon women he had seen were 
midwives or artificers. Some of the slaves educated him 
when he eavesdropped on a conversation. 

"Of course it's better to serve on a male-commanded 
vessel," one crewman commented to another as they 
checked coils of rope and prepared to wash down the decks. 
"You there, Haddad." He was waved over and wondered if 
he had revealed his interest in the conversation. 

"What do you want, crewman?" he asked, already 
thinking of the lies he would use. 

"We want you to settle an argument. I say it's better to 
serve under a male, even if he is more brutal, than under a 

96 



Vance Moore 

female, because they strive to show authority at all times." 
Haddad took several moments because none of his ready 
answers addressed this unlikely question from a slave. 

"I believe that Latulla is a special case, and it would be 
unfair to consider her as representative of her gender." 
Haddad tried to sound respectful of his mistress, but his 
eyes watched the unfortunate steward that the captain had 
appointed to wait on Latulla. Bruises and a general furtiveness 
gave the man a hunted look as he waited on deck to 
put off talking to Latulla as long as possible. He had tried to 
switch positions with the other sailors, but so far he had no 
takers. 

"You're right. It wouldn't be fair to use her as an 
example. She has special demands upon her as part of her 
position." Each excuse was more forced than the last; each 
trying to overlook the fact that Latulla was unusually cruel 
even in a race that rewarded such cruelty. 

"Usually women give lots of verbal abuse and scut work. 
When clear of military duty, a woman may have warriors 
underneath her, but very few males are capable of much 
outside of military action." The sailor spoke with the 
knowledge of experience evident in his voice, and Haddad 
took a chance to learn more before he left the Keldon 
world. 

"Why don't we see more women then? Almost all of the 
bosses are male, regardless of the activity they oversee." 
Haddad had not considered it unusual, but he did not see 
the Keldons as anything but monsters most of the time. 
Trying to see them as a race or people was painful and 
jarring. "Where are all the women if they are so skilled?" 

"Haddad, the town you left is a military base. Military 
action is the provenance of males. Our captain and officers 
are male because this is a combat area." The sailor smiled 
smugly as he revealed his superior knowledge. 

97 



Prophecy 

"Furthermore, this incursion is not totally supported by the 
Keldon nation. Most of the warriors are of inferior status 
and from secondary clans. The males you see commanding 
work details are from clans too poor to maintain a proper 
distribution of work between males and females. But if the 
loads we bring in are as rich as the one we're hauling now, 
there will be serious interest in colonizing." 

Every time Haddad ran into slaves who supported or 
approved of the Keldon cause, he wondered what flaw 
warped their minds. Ignorant as he was of Keldon culture, 
he was sure that human males sat at the bottom, and that 
made him even more determined to escape and fight for 
the League. 

It was late afternoon before Haddad found free time. 
Latulla ordered him to repack several crates they had 
hurriedly loaded to make the sailing date. The inventory 
was blatantly incorrect, and Haddad considered the man 
who packed it lucky indeed to avoid Latulla's grasp by 
staying on land. Of course, any mistake that Latulla could 
not instantly address tended to fester. Only a shipwreck 
would stop a sure reckoning upon her return. The artificer 
even designed a new loading scheme, so Haddad had to 
draft several crewmen throughout the day to dig crates out 
of tight quarters. 

Haddad was taking a break on deck. Not a large risk 
because a meal would be served soon, and Latulla preferred 
to be in her quarters when the deck was crowded with men. 

The helmsman and officers were in the raised stern, and 
Haddad wondered how much longer he could escape 
notice. The crew was taking a break, and each man had his 
cup ready as the galley workers brought up buckets of beer. 
Fumash was near the rail and looking over the sea. As 
Haddad approached, several sailors started a round of 
singing as their ration of spirits was distributed. Haddad 

98 



Vance Moore 

had lived on coffee and weak beer for most of his life, but 
the strength of the spirits the crewmen routinely consumed 
was a source of amazement. 

Fumash threw a bucket on a line into the water and 
drew it back up. He carefully poured a little from the 
bucket into his fresh water ration. 

"I thought drinking seawater would kill you," Haddad 
said. 

"You can add seawater to fresh water to stretch out your 
supplies as long as you dilute enough. Besides, it's a 
convenient source of salt." Fumash added to the 
concoction a small portion of spirits and then drank the 
mixture down. "Tastes as bad as always," he said with a 
smile. 

Haddad could see hints of white teeth and wondered if 
the drinking was scouring away the deposits left by 
Fumash's nut habit. It would certainly be more difficult to 
procure a supply of them if they arrived at Keld. 

"The captain doesn't look too concerned about League 
airships," ventured Haddad. 

The ship commander was talking to Druik. The huge 
Keldon was on deck without the customary armor of a war 
leader, though the spike and long blades on his artificial 
limbs certainly gave him a martial air. 

"He has to look brave under a war leader's eyes," 
Fumash replied. "We are heading northeast and should be 
outside the regular patrol areas. By tomorrow it will be just 
navigation watches, and we'll turn to the northwest the 
day after. It should still be calm if we are lucky." There was 
no wind, and the sails hung slackly. Those crewmen with 
needle skills worked their way through the ship's sails and 
signal flags. Maintenance had lagged, and Haddad 
wondered why. The ship glided forward slowly and without 
sound over the still sea. 

99 



Prophecy 

"So we change course tomorrow," Haddad said, nodding 
slightly at the boat only a few feet away. 

"As long as we are not spotted we should make a clean 
break." Fumash was growing nervous and stood with the 
bucket in hand. "How about a little sea water to cut your 
liquor ration?" He threw the bucket over, and it hit with a 
splat rather than a splash. 

"What the hell is that?" The customs man was leaning 
over the side and sounded so puzzled that Haddad and 
another sailor looked over the side as well. 

The water shimmered with faint glints of color, as if a 
sheen of oil lay on the water. It was a thick patch that the 
ship had hit in only the last few minutes. It was a large 
slick, and Haddad thought it strange that none of the 
lookouts spotted it. Perhaps it was common enough that 
only a landlubber or coastal sailor would be surprised by its 
appearance. The sailor's reaction put that theory to rest. 

"Captain!" he yelled in a near falsetto, "we're on a 
gastro-jelly!" His cry sparked a round of confirmations as 
the various lookouts turned their eyes from the sky to the 
water about the ship. 

The captain took only seconds to look over the side and 
then started shouting orders. "Change course hard to port! 
All hands fetch boarding pikes and prepare for jelly drill! 
Cook!" he shouted as the first serving of hot food was 
brought on deck, "start boiling soap! We've jelly to deal 
with!" 

The cook dumped the rations on the deck and hurried 
into the galley, screaming orders to his assistant as he went. 
Haddad turned to the sailor who was sweating and holding 
a boarding pike. 

"What is going on?" He looked at the water. The colors 
were now rushing toward the hull, and deeper, more


100 



Vance Moore 

vibrant colors were starting to well up from the depths. The 
sailor seemed calm but expectant. 

"It's a gastro-jelly, a type of jellyfish larger than the 
ship." He shook his pike at the disturbance under the 
water. "Right now it's turning over so it can use its 
tentacles. If the course change doesn't break us free, we'll 
be scraping it off the sides in a few moments." Haddad had 
seen monster attacks, but this one was so leisurely that he 
had a hard time feeling any fear. Fumash was confused as 
well, and Haddad was pleased not to be alone in his 
ignorance. 

"Why haven't I heard of it if it is so dangerous?" 
Haddad asked as he took a pike. 

Lord Druik was shouting and making the rounds of the 
railings as well. The words were forceful exhalations and 
grunts that Haddad couldn't make out, but the 
exhortations served to energize the Keldon crew. Each 
touch of Druik's hand as he walked left a more confident 
warrior behind. 

Even Haddad could feel something, a call to battle, a 
shout of defiance against an enemy. 

"A gastro-jelly usually isn't dangerous, but this hulk is 
too bloody slow, and we've caught the central mass. If 
those blind morons on watch had spotted it, we wouldn't 
be in any danger at all," the sailor said. 

Latulla was now on deck and talking to the Keldon 
mate, trying to find out what she could do. 

"Fire is not something we use next to the hull, 
Doyenne." The officer fidgeted as he talked to Latulla 
instead of rushing to his duty station. 

"Well, it's almost impossible to target the jelly. There's 
nothing solid to hit," Latulla said, looking over the side. 

"It's turned," went the call, and thin tentacles began to 
rise up out of the water. They were small and fragile 

101 



Prophecy 

looking, and Haddad wanted to laugh at the excitement 
they inspired. Then they began growing, and Haddad 
joined the rest of the crew in fear. 

The tentacles grew in different ways. Some swelled 
until they were as thick as anchor cables. Others flattened 
into a rough sheet that coated the hull as if mechanical 
grease. And still others extended in sudden spurts of a few 
feet. Each sailor along the side broke off tentacles into the 
sea, some shaking and tugging their pikes as they became 
entangled like a bough attacked by a climbing vine. 

More warriors rushed to the sides, and Druik began a 
war cry as each new fighter joined the attack. The 
hollering was in a dialect unfamiliar to Haddad, but the 
rhythm reminded him of a marching song, the melody 
uniting different parts into a single, focused whole. Keldon 
warriors roared in a brutal harmony, and some used bare 
hands to clear the sides of the ship. But being inspired by 
Druik did not make them invulnerable, and a single touch 
of jelly to bare flesh was something no amount of singing 
would overcome. Druik used his artificial arm to clear the 
sides and called out to the other warriors. 

"Don't touch it, just peel it off the ship!" he yelled. 
"Use a spear, or lash it off with a rope." One warrior quickly 
picked up a coil and flailed it against the hull. The rope 
broke tentacles and tubes free of the hull with every strike. 
Other warriors drew swords and scraped the sides, others 
smashed barrels to use the staves. Despite the enthusiasm, 
the jelly sent up more and more extension, trying to pull 
itself aboard. The ropes were coated with jelly, and they 
dissolved. Warriors dropped weapons and rope overboard as 
the juices ate away at whatever they covered. Now 
crewmen stripped their clothes and armor to use against 
the monster. Druik's arm was covered, and Haddad could 

102 



Vance Moore 

see jelly flesh eating away at the Keldon. Chunks of the 
beast were flung up on Druik's skin at the fury of his attack. 

"I hope the cook hurries with the lye," the sailor said as 
he peeled away a long, gooey tentacle that spurted almost 
to the rail. Haddad and Fumash ran back and forth along 
their section of hull. 

"What does it do?" Haddad asked as he darted several 
feet to slice a limb off the hull. 

"Poisons it." An explosion made Haddad look over his 
shoulder before going back to his own battle. Latulla's spell 
had cleared the ship's side like a barber's razor, the line of 
fire hugging the hull and searing the monstrous flesh. Now 
several warriors ran to help other men clear their sections 
of the ship's side, while a few stayed to repulse any new 
assault. 

Haddad turned as a warrior shoved him aside. The 
warrior used his shield as a giant spoon to scoop runners of 
jelly free and back into the sea. Latulla stood with her staff 
raised, and a growing nimbus of fire enveloped the wood 
and her arms. Then she struck, and the fire dived into the 
sea, burrowing into the monster beneath the ship. But the 
jelly had no complex organ center to destroy. Her 
explosion, while impressive, didn't win the battle, but its 
aftereffects did change how the battle was fought. The 
screams started seconds after the blast. Haddad turned to 
see men writhing all over the deck in agony. Latulla's 
explosion had hurled the jelly's flesh and digestive juices 
over the crew. The assault on Haddad's section of the hull 
abated as suction from the explosion pulled the tentacles 
back into the water. Haddad turned all the way around and 
started to run to the other side. Tentacles were over the 
rail, and Haddad could see the contractions as they 
pumped a living pool of acid over the deck. 

103 



Prophecy 

Crew ran toward the cook who came on deck with a 
mixture of soap and water. The sight of men splashing 
almost boiling lye into their faces and on their wounds 
made Haddad determined that he would not touch the 
flesh of the gastro-jelly. It was Lord Druik who turned the 
battle. 

There were bodies now on deck—slumping piles of 
flesh that poured red into the tentacles and pools. The 
bodies emptied out like wineskins, and a rich wave of color 
raced back over the side into the sea. Tentacles draped 
down into the hold, contracting and raining more juices 
and jelly below with each second. Druik knocked men 
away from the cook and splashed his leg with the remains 
of the bucket. 

"Bring the rest up, damn you!" he screamed. Then the 
Keldon walked through the pooling jelly with a sword 
scraping along the railing. His body received several jets of 
fluid, but he only laughed and called for the men to fight. 
"Fight or cut your throats, cowards!" More buckets of 
diluted lye came and were sluiced over the deck. The 
tentacles withdrew or shriveled under the attack, but 
Haddad doubted it would be enough. Then he remembered 
the supplies that Latulla had packed below, and he called 
to her. She was crouched on the deck, and he could see the 
wood slowly charring as it heated around her. The jelly 
gave her a wide birth, but her defense would rapidly 
become a threat to the ship if she didn't stop. 

"Latulla, did you pack anything poisonous or reactive?" 
She glanced up at his shout and narrowed her eyes at his 
failure to use her title. 

"Yes, in the second crate," she called back. "The sacks 
are marked 'catalysts.' " Haddad threw himself into the 
hold before common sense could stop him. The area was 
dark with only a few shafts of light coming in. Most of the 

104 



Vance Moore 

deck hatches were closed, and Haddad prayed he wouldn't 
be knee deep in jelly before he could find what he was 
looking for. The second crate was one that he had moved, 
and he hoped Latulla had given him the original loading 
number rather than one under her new scheme. He could 
see tentacles beginning to edge out of the bilge, and he 
skinned his hand badly as he hammered the seals loose 
with the butt of his knife. He threw out the containers, 
hoping he wouldn't poison himself as pottery and glass 
shattered. The interior of the crate was full of smaller crates 
that nestled Latulla's work in shock resistant packing. 

Finally he recognized the symbol for catalyst and broke 
the container open. Two large satchels lay inside, and he 
looked for a glove or scoop to spread it around. When 
tentacles forced him to hop onto another crate, he decided 
to chance death by poison. 

He cut the fasteners loose and took out a handful. It 
had the consistency of fine sand, and he threw it wide in a 
circle. Whatever it was, the jelly had no love for it. Where 
the sand touched, jelly flesh liquefied and then crusted 
over. Haddad began shouting as he rushed toward the open 
hatch where he had jumped down. 

"Fumash, I've found the answer." He hurled the fine 
sand to either side. Fumash looked down then skidded 
around to the other side of the hatch in response to the 
jelly flowing over the deck. 

"Then you better tell me now because I'm not going to 
be around much longer," Fumash shouted down. He had 
lost his pike and was holding a mop that scraped along the 
lip of the hatch. Haddad swore as the jelly fell toward him, 
and he nailed it with a pinch of the catalyst. 

"Spread this all around," he called and threw the sealed 
bag to the customs man. Fumash caught it and then drew 
out of sight. 

105 



Prophecy 

"Who's got a god-cursed knife?" he shouted on the 
deck, and Haddad heard shouts of relief as crewmen 
converged on Fumash. Remembering the mop laden with 
jelly, Haddad decided to head back up the hold for a 
stairway rather than trust a ladder. He had no desire for a 
jelly shower, and he dusted his way back up the hold even 
as shouts of triumph and victory began to sound on deck. 

When he reached the stair he had almost completely 
emptied the bag. He could only hope that it wouldn't be 
needed on deck. The shouting had died down, and he was 
careful to have a fistful of catalyst when he stepped into the 
afternoon light. The deck seemed safe, with many sailors 
tending the wounds of others. The captain was examining 
the deck and exterior of the hull carefully as he talked to 
Latulla. 

"I thought we were finished until that slave started 
using your powder. It's amazing stuff. We should carry it 
whenever we sail." His relief was obvious, and he still had 
the occasional tremor as his body shook off his adrenaline. 

"That catalyst was very valuable and difficult to 
obtain," Latulla stated, prodding the crusty remains of the 
jelly as she followed the officer. "It would be more effective 
to whip the lookouts so they carry out their duties." 

She looked at Haddad and the catalyst slowly dribbling 
from his hand. He immediately threw it into the sack and 
sealed it. He knew there would be no thanks or praise for 
his actions. He had gained her notice, however, and wished 
that he could reclaim her indifference. He left to find 
Fumash, wondering how his friend had fared. He couldn't 
find him as he went over the deck. His circuit took time as 
parts of the ship were covered with crusted jelly, and, dead 
or not, he was reluctant to walk on the remains. 
Approaching a crewman who was washing and bandaging 

106 



Vance Moore 

another man's wound, he asked where Fumash was, fearing 
him lost. 

"The little fellow is fine, but his master, Lord Druik, 
took terrible wounds." The man's patient hissed in pain as 
a bandage was tied over his salved wounds. "They took him 
to his cabin, and you should find your friend there." 
Haddad thanked him and crossed to the other side of the 
ship, trying to stay out of Latulla's eye. The cook was just 
leaving Druik's cabin, a bundle of bloody clothes in his 
hand. 

In the dim light, Fumash was bent over the war leader, 
his hands gently smearing a thin paste over the Keldon's 
ribs. Long gaps showed muscle and even a glimpse of bone 
before Fumash's small hands covered it with paste. He 
looked up at Haddad briefly. 

"Give me another pad of gauze." His elbow knocked an 
empty bottle of brandy as he gestured to a pile of medical 
supplies on a chair opposite the bed. "This stuff is supposed 
to be good for burns. Maybe it will help." His shoulders 
tensed, and each move was deliberated. 

"Of course," Haddad said, handing another roll to 
Fumash, who started laying pads of the coarse weave over 
Druik's torso. The seeping wounds and salve glued the 
fabric down like patches on a coat. Haddad's eyes finished 
adjusting, and he considered Druik. Half-crippled he may 
have been before, but Haddad wondered how the Keldon 
could still be alive. 

His stumps from past amputations were wrapped and 
already treated, but the artificial limbs thrown to the side 
had seen hard service. The metal studs and buckles on the 
prosthetics were only lightly discolored, but the leather was 
eaten through in several places. Half of the straps lay open, 
and Haddad at first thought Druik's caregivers cut the 
limbs free. A closer look revealed that the jelly had 

107 



Prophecy 

dissolved right through the straps. If more had given way, 
Druik would have fallen face first into the digestive mass of 
the beast. 

"He was lucky," whispered Haddad. 

Fumash slapped him, hitting hard enough that Haddad 
tasted blood as he looked at his friend. 

"Lucky?" He pulled aside the sheet that half-covered 
Druik's good side. The arm was already wrapped, but even 
through the bandages Haddad could see how misshapen it 
was. Dimples and pits showed on the surface of the cloth 
and hinted at the gaps beneath. Druik's leg was still 
mercifully covered, but the heavy spotting on the clean 
sheet and the strange lay and contortion of the limb hinted 
that Druik had lost it as surely as he had lost his other leg 
in a battle long past. 

"Someone has got to take it off." Fumash nodded to the 
limb. "Chances are almost sure that I will get stuck with 
the job." Haddad swallowed his gorge at the thought. By 
viewing it as just an image, he could control his stomach, 
but the thought of doing more damage made him sick. At 
the sight of his distress, Fumash managed a small grim 
smile. 

"Lift his torso up. I need to wrap his ribs." Fumash was 
holding a long linen wrap that he had picked up as Druik's 
injuries hypnotized Haddad. 

"Shouldn't a surgeon be doing this?" Haddad asked, 
though he slowly moved into position to lift at the 
shoulders. 

"As a slave, I am in his household and responsible for 
caring for him," Fumash replied as he twirled the wrap into 
a roll that could easily pass under Druik. "And if there was 
a way to get someone else to help with these little jobs, I 
wouldn't be talking to you. Now lift," he ordered. 

108 



Vance Moore 

Haddad slowly raised the Keldon's upper body. Druik 
made no intelligible sound, but Haddad could feel each 
breath and the warmth of the gray living flesh. 

"Why isn't he screaming with pain?" Haddad asked as 
the breathing continued without interruption. 

"He's had enough drugs and alcohol that I think he's 
going to die," Fumash replied as he continued to wrap the 
form of his master. "If he lives, it will be in spite of my 
ignorance, not because of my doctoring. Besides," he 
continued, "I certainly wouldn't want to live in this 
condition." 

Haddad looked to the door, hoping no one was within 
hearing distance. 

"Don't say that," he whispered to Fumash. His friend 
misunderstood him as he continued his task. 

"He's been a good master in comparison to some, but I 
am not here by choice," Fumash said as he began to secure 
the sheath of cloth with a series of strategic tucks and a 
long pin. "I might even like him, but he is the enemy, and I 
would leave him dying if offered the chance." 

"What do you mean?" Haddad said, forgetting 
circumspection. "We're leaving tomorrow night. The crew 
has fought a battle, and we need to leave before they 
recover." 

"The captain will be especially vigilant after this, and 
there is no way I am going to sneak out of this cabin. I am 
on a deathwatch and will be expected to stay here until he 
dies or recovers. Even if he dies, death rites will demand my 
presence." Fumash was bitter, but his hands motioned 
Haddad to gently lower Druik to the rough mattress. "If he 
survives at least two more days, I might be able to leave. 
You will have to escape for both of us." Fumash tried to 
give Haddad a smile but couldn't manage it. 

109 



Prophecy 

"I can barely stand in a small boat," Haddad said, "much 
less sail on the open sea. If you don't go then I can't go." 
He realized that bolder action would be required. "We go 
in two nights or die trying. If you are with someone, slave 
or Keldon, kill him and meet me at the ship's boat. I am 
not expected to serve Latulla and am not closely watched, 
I, too, will kill if I must." 

Fumash was doubtful about their chances, and it 
showed. He had been a slave for a longer time and was used 
to pushing hope farther and farther into the future. 

"We have to leave, Fumash." Haddad gripped his own 
shirt and it tore as he tried to rein in the anger threatening 
to explode at this sign of doubt. "Every day that we stay we 
shrink and lose a little bit more of ourselves. If you don't 
run you'll be as crippled and helpless as Druik is now." He 
laid his hand on his friend's arm and finally received a nod 
of agreement. The decision and near-resignation was plain 
in Fumash's eyes as he turned to the medical kit and began 
withdrawing implements for amputating the destroyed leg. 

A Keldon guard came in as Haddad tried to nerve 
himself up for the possible operation. The warrior advanced 
into the room with his head lowered as a sign of respect for 
the fallen lord. 

"You are commanded to appear before your mistress, 
slave," he said to Haddad. Despite the harshness of the 
words, the Keldon sounded almost polite. The warrior 
turned to Fumash. "I will assist you in what needs to be 
done." 

Fumash gave Haddad a quick nod and showed two 
fingers where the guard could not see them. 

"Two days," the small man mouthed. 

Haddad nodded quickly. Two days until escape from 
the ship. As Haddad left to serve his mistress's pleasure, 
Fumash turned back to the instruments. 

110 



Vance Moore 

"You've been down in the hold since the attack," were 
Latulla's opening words. "Was there any damage to the 
cargo besides the crate you broke open?" The lack of 
gratitude firmed up Haddad's plan to escape even over her 
dead body. 

"I don't know," Haddad said as the injustice of her 
implied criticism sank in. "I was busy trying to kill the beast 
and help save the ship." Latulla's flat stare reminded him 
that he lived at her sufferance. 

The captain and Latulla stood at the entrance to the 
hold after finishing the survey of the deck. Haddad could 
see two sailors down among the cargo searching for more 
remains of the gastro-jelly, the nearly empty bags of 
catalyst ready in their hands. 

"Considering how much damage it did to the crew and 
ropes up here, who knows how much cargo was devoured 
when it pooled in the hold?" The captain had survived the 
attack but worry about his cargo threatened to overwhelm 
his relief. 

"Fetch the inventory that you prepared, check my 
crates, and then the rest of the cargo," Latulla ordered 
Haddad. "Report to me as soon as you and the captain are 
finished. I will be in my quarters or with Lord Druik." She 
turned and walked away. 

Haddad waited until the warriors in the hold finished 
their search for any living jelly. He didn't care how quickly 
Latulla wanted him to get to work. After the all clear, he 
went carefully down into darkness with other crew who the 
captain detailed to the task. Haddad set lanterns alight in 
the dark comers, and no one gainsaid him even though 
light poured in through the open deck hatches. 

Except for the one Haddad broke into, Latulla's crates 
survived the battle without a scratch. In the farther hold it 
was a different story. The monster had poured through the 

111 



Prophecy 

upper hatches and landed on the supplies of biscuits and 
other provisions. The mound had spread over other crates, 
and a few had given way, their contents strewn among the 
remains of the beast. 

"We need to clear this hold and check everything," said 
a Keldon mate. The first few attempts to shovel the 
monster's remains into a barrel for disposal were very 
tentative. The odor and settling of the remains when the 
first shovel broke the crust sent men stumbling back. But 
under the repeated orders from the Keldon mate, the crew 
began to collect the mess and put it into barrels. A winch 
was quickly rigged on deck, and the barrels began rising out 
of the hold to dump their contents into the sea. 

"What shall we do with the stores that are 
contaminated?" asked a crewman who uncovered a 
container of cheese. The mate looked at the rounds 
covered in muck. He cut a wedge and saw how trails of 
digestive juices had eaten their way through like worms. 

"When in doubt, toss it out." Supplies went into the 
barrel and then whole containers of food were hauled up. 
Perhaps the captain disagreed with the mate when he saw 
containers of meat going up, but his own investigation of 
its purity overwhelmed even his iron stomach. It took 
hours to check every barrel and cask. Eventually the 
provisions not violated during the attack were separated 
out. More than half of the food, water, and spirits were 
emptied over the side, and the sober faces of sailors told 
Haddad that things were serious indeed. 

The corners of the hold were filled with crates that 
seemed to have escaped the touch of the devourer. But 
even after the long day that the crew had put in, there was 
no break. The captain rotated men from the deck to the 
hold. Haddad continued working except for a few trips to 
the deck for relief. He devoured an issue of rations that he 

112 



Vance Moore 

ordered from the cook, letting him think that he was 
carrying it for a Keldon down in the hold. Latulla had 
tasked him to remain until the survey of damage was done, 
and his bravado wasn't yet strong enough for him to 
disobey. 

Haddad became more nervous when a wall of crates 
came down. Behind the booty stolen from the League were 
stasis boxes. The image of the eaten corpses he had found 
in another hold mingled in his mind with thoughts of the 
monster's ghastly appetite. He really did not want to open 
the boxes. Of course, the mate overseeing the crew did not 
solicit his opinion. 

"Crack them open," the officer ordered. He motioned 
two Keldon sailors forward, their strength necessary in the 
tight quarters. 

"All of them?" one of the Keldons asked incredulously. 

"Just the ones marked as occupied, fool." The mate 
pointed to a circle on the foot each of the forty or so crates. 
Most of the circles were broken, an arc left out, and 
Haddad quickly realized that only those with closed circles 
needed inspection. "We'll do those on top and several from 
the bottom." The crates were stacked three high and a 
cargo net was attached to cleats and bolts to prevent 
shifting in heavy seas. 

"You will open them, slave," the mate said and handed 
a lever to Haddad. The two crewmen swung a crate down, 
and Haddad set the iron bit in the latch. He levered it 
open in a rush, then took a deep breath as he forced the lid 
up, expecting a corpse. Instead there was only an armored 
warrior in stasis. A great sword lay clamped at his side, and 
at the warrior's feet lay a bag of coins spilling out stolen 
League silver. A Keldon warrior going home with riches 
squeezed from Haddad's homeland. No breath or 
movement from the body, but even as tired as Haddad was, 

113 



Prophecy 

he could tell that the man wasn't dead. There seemed to be 
an air of satisfaction and expectation to the still warrior. 
The Keldon lay ready to arise and conquer, and Haddad 
hated him. It was the same as they went down the line, 
until Haddad felt nothing except exhaustion as he opened 
the boxes to reveal the sleeping warriors within. 

"We'll need to check the bottom one just to be sure." 
The mate pointed to a single crate with a complete circle 
with two crates on top of it. He ordered two more crew to 
replace the sailors working with Haddad. Even for a race 
with gray skin, the two sailors looked listless. The mate did 
not relieve Haddad however, and the captured League 
soldier leaned against an open crate, trying not to collapse. 

Haddad couldn't muster the energy to think as he threw 
the last series of catches. When the lid opened, he looked 
on in confusion at the contents. The "body" had arms and 
legs and a head, but it wasn't alive. There were weapons 
and pieces of armor in the crate, but it was no Keldon 
warrior. Despite the brick colored skin that covered 
muscles and bones, Haddad was unsure if the figure had 
ever been alive. The body's skin looked like leather and 
was tightly drawn. The joints were swollen and the hands 
were a collection of walnuts strung together. The head was 
enclosed in a helmet, and Haddad felt his gorge 
momentarily rise. The body had no lower jaw, and Haddad 
felt sick at the thought of such an injury. But the skin and 
lines of the neck showed no trace of injury. Finally, the 
eyes were spheres of glass or crystal, and they stared out of 
lidless sockets. Haddad looked to the mate in confusion, 
and the officer advanced to get a better look at the 
contents. 

"A war manikin?" he exclaimed. "Why would anyone 
put a war manikin in a stasis box?" He stooped and looked 
over the humanoid device in puzzlement. Haddad gnawed 

114 



Vance Moore 

at the inside of his cheeks, trying to wake up, to get a close 
look. The mate stopped Haddad's inspection as he closed 
the box, taking the lever from Haddad's hand to throw the 
latches shut. 

"One of the warriors in stasis must have decided to 
bring it home with him," the mate said out loud. "Actually 
a clever way to smuggle it back to Keld if he can get around 
the wake up ceremony when we reach port." He motioned 
for the crew to secure the crates again with the cargo net 
and bolt. "We'll leave it alone. None of our business, 
anyway." 

The crew was finished, and finally they all trooped up 
onto the deck. Haddad realized that night must have fallen 
hours ago, but he had lost track of time as lanterns were lit, 
and the work moved farther and farther into the depths of 
the hold. His exhaustion clouded his mind. 

"The captain and the artificer have retired," the sailor 
standing watch informed them as they stumbled around in 
the darkness. "They'll take reports in the morning." 
Haddad was thankful and followed the rest of the crew to 
bed. 

Haddad lay in his hammock minutes later, dreaming of 
the gastro-jelly eating and dissolving men until only a 
crippled Lord Druik was left, surrounded by ranks of what 
the mate named war manikins. 

* * * * * 

The morning found Haddad barely aware but already 
ordered to report to Latulla. He was surprised to find the 
morning half gone and most of the company on deck 
standing beside empty stasis boxes. Many of the Keldon 
warriors who came aboard with Lord Druik were in armor 
and standing ready as if for battle. Haddad checked the 

115 



Prophecy 

horizon for signs of an enemy, but nothing was visible. It 
seemed a perfect day. The captain cleared his throat and 
addressed the company. 

"We took several casualties in the battle yesterday, but 
the ship has survived due to your efforts. I am proud to 
have you aboard as my crew." Hollow cheers sounded, but 
most were exhausted from the battle and its aftermath, and 
enthusiasm was lacking in their voices. 

"In spite of your bravery we still lost a substantial part of 
our cargo, and so we will all have to work harder and make 
some sacrifices." He looked to the horizon and spoke in a 
more serious tone. "We were carrying supplies for the ships 
we are to meet in three days. Keld needs those ships sailing 
and raiding in these waters. They can't withdraw to 
resupply without jeopardizing important plans. So to 
provide them with what they need we will have to transfer 
part of our own rations." A low murmur sprang up, but 
none of the crew seemed particularly surprised or upset. 

"We've neither the funds nor time to buy or raid for 
more, so we will have to consume less." He gestured to the 
stasis boxes. "We will put as many in stasis as we can. 
When we meet the fleet, we will take on their empty boxes 
and sail with as small a crew as possible. Lord Druik has 
volunteered to be first." 

Haddad doubted that Druik had spoken since the 
battle. High-ranking Keldons almost never entered the 
boxes because of the danger and loss of control that they 
experienced. It was means of cramming low-level warriors 
into ships and restraining supply costs, but pride overrode 
the economics. The crew murmured again in real surprise 
at the thought of a lord willing to endure a process that 
they were happy to avoid. 

When Fumash backed out of the cabin holding one end 
of a hatch cover, Haddad realized that the captain was 

116 



Vance Moore 

serious and that Druik had survived through the night. 
Fumash and the crewmen helping him used the cut hatch 
as a crude stretcher. Once they were out of the hatchway, 
Haddad could see that the Keldon war leader had grown 
easier to carry. Fumash had amputated the leg, and Druik's 
remaining arm looked foreshortened as well, though the 
layers of bandages made an accurate assessment impossible. 
The fallen hero was still insensate, and Haddad hoped he 
stayed that way. He couldn't imagine waking up with his 
limbs gone. He was frankly surprised that someone had not 
eased Druik's passage into the next life already. 

"Bring him here." Latulla was standing beside the first 
open box. A burning censer and several bottles rested on a 
table moved up on deck. She was clad in her finest robes, 
and she laid a gold-embossed cane on the table. She began 
to arrange the ingredients. 

Fumash and the others shuffled up to the box, and at 
Latulla's wave, two of Druik's armed retainers advanced 
and slid his shrunken form into the box. 

"To sleep in the dreamless void," Latulla intoned as she 
opened a bottle and placed it between Druik's slack lips. 
The lord coughed as the liquid poured into his mouth and 
into his lungs. Latulla was muttering before he finally 
swallowed a proper dose. 

"He shall need no nourishment for a year and day." 
Latulla forced a second bottle and gave the lord a draught. 
Haddad could see the form stilling as each second passed. 
Finally, Latulla was satisfied that Druik was under. Haddad 
wondered how difficult it was to figure the proper doses for 
a man without limbs. 

"Finally, protection from decay, from the mouths of 
worms and the companions of the dead." Latulla picked up 
the censer and then looked at the flags and emblems on the 
masts to evaluate the direction of the wind. She shifted to 

117 



Prophecy 

keep the wind at her back and raised the censer. The crew 
shifted away from the path of the smoke, Haddad following 
and trying to move to the front of the group for a better 
view. 

Latulla hesitated and then waved Fumash closer. 
Haddad managed to reach the front rank and could hear 
her as she whispered to Lord Druik's personal slave. 

"The bandages need to be cut and more of the flesh 
exposed." She handed him a small knife and motioned him 
to begin. Fumash bent over the still form of his master and 
began cutting through the wrappings that he had so 
carefully tied over his master's wounds. Druik was totally 
removed from time but there was still fresh blood soaking 
in the pads placed over his wounds. Haddad turned his eyes 
and counted the boxes awaiting bodies. Almost thirty were 
open, and Haddad wondered how many more would be 
filled after they reached the supply point. At last, Fumash 
finished his task and stepped back from Druik. 

Latulla must have added something to the censer while 
Haddad was lost in thought. The censer boiled over like a 
kettle on the fire, and the smoke poured over the sides like 
water, filling the stasis box and hiding Druik from view. 
Some smoke lapped over the sides of the box and seemed 
to crawl like a snake over the deck before collapsing and 
disappearing. Latulla grew irritated as crew tried to avoid 
the excess vapor. If there was more to this internment 
ceremony, she cut it short and swung the heavy box lid 
closed. Fumash threw the final latches. 

"His guards will follow him into sleep now." Latulla 
waved the guards forward as a group and there were no 
more words as she processed them all at once. Each guard 
drank from a bottle and then quickly lay down in his new 
home. Latulla went down the line, forcing the second 
potion between their lips. Haddad could hear the bottle 

118 



Vance Moore 

jamming and levering against teeth as Latulla acted with 
her customary regard for others. Then she stoked the 
censer till smoke geysered out. She walked it up and down 
the line of boxes as if watering a flowerbed, and finally the 
guards were closed up in their boxes. 

"It is fitting that Druik's servants travel with him." 

Fumash froze as other slaves advanced to stand before 
empty boxes. Latulla gripped him by the throat and sharply 
struck his hand with the base of a potion bottle. The knife 
he used to cut Druik's bandages fell to the deck. Haddad 
could only watch the surprise spreading slowly over 
Fumash's exhausted features as the potion poured down his 
throat. Latulla pushed him into an open box, and he fell 
into oblivion. Latulla administered the doses, and Druik 
and his entire household were sealed up. 

There were still a few open boxes, and from the 
restlessness of the crew, it was obvious that a new crop of 
bodies was going to be laid to rest. The captain walked 
toward the group and drew out the unwilling volunteers by 
touching their arms and pushing them toward the open 
boxes. A mate selected crew to transfer the full boxes to 
the hold. Latulla called Haddad forward. He advanced, but 
his eyes were locked on the boxes as he walked closer. 
Latulla smacked his head with her cane from the table. 
After his vision cleared, she thrust a small container of 
paint and a brush into his hands. 

"Check the latches, and use the paint to close the 
circles." She turned to process the crew waiting for her and 
her potions. Haddad knelt down by Druik's box and 
checked it thoroughly. He dipped the brush into the inky 
black paint and closed the circle at the box's end. He went 
down the line of boxes quickly but paused when he came to 
the one containing Fumash. All of their plans had been 
ruined by this mischance. When they first plotted to 

119 



Prophecy 

escape, Haddad had expected to taste freedom tonight. 
Now his chances were much slimmer. He didn't know 
sailing or the surrounding waters, but he must make the 
break alone. Fumash was going to Keld, as surely as a 
doomed soul sank into the underworld. Haddad continued 
past his friend and soon caught up to Latulla. The last few 
crewmen waited to be processed, and Haddad was surprised 
to see Latulla's personal steward from the ship's crew 
among them. He was smiling—the first happy man Haddad 
had seen lowered into a box. Haddad thought sourly that 
he would be waiting on his mistress now and understood 
the man's happiness. The fading bruises Latulla had 
provided the steward stood out against his pallor as Latulla 
finished administering the second draught. The censer 
streamed smoke, and Haddad swung the lid closed on the 
steward. The captain approached Latulla as Haddad closed 
the latches and prepared to close the circle with an arc of 
paint. 

"It's going to be difficult working with a crew this small 
after all the casualties and filling up these boxes." The 
captain patted the back of the crewman waiting to enter 
the last box. 

"Of course I realize the difficulties, Captain," Latulla 
replied, resting the now quiescent censer on the deck. 
"That is why I have decided to make my own sacrifice to 
the common good." She rested the shaft of her cane on 
Haddad's shoulder with a gentle tap. 

"My last personal slave will rest in one of these boxes 
till we reach Keld to give you another able seaman." Her 
words were expansive and generous sounding, but the 
metal figurehead on the cane's end rested against Haddad's 
Adam's apple. She drew him upright and close to the box. 
The denial and fear in his eyes didn't surprise Latulla, and 
she twisted the metal head of the cane under his jaw, 

120 



Vance Moore 

forcing his head back to administer the sleeping draft. She 
pushed him into the last box, and his skull rang off of the 
bottom. He opened his mouth to yell, and the second drink 
was poured down his throat. Latulla was standing over him 
and watching his sputters and tremors of fear with a smile. 
Had she discovered his plans for escape or was this payback 
for his perceived lack of respect? He saw the enjoyment in 
her eyes as his limbs grew heavy. She enjoyed the fear he 
radiated as his entombment continued. His eyes were only 
starting to close as the smoke from the censer obscured his 
vision. He could feel the heavy vapor settling over his 
clothing and coating his face as he heard the lid swing shut 
and the latches close. 

121 



Prophecy 

Chapter 8 

When Teferi sent Barrin to the blimp hangar 
construction site on the eastern frontier, the wizard 
considered himself fortunate. Barrin's task was to learn all 
he could about the systems supporting Teferi's military and 
to perhaps adapt what he had learned to Urza's forces. The 
building of a new hangar complex gave him that chance. 

Teferi was kind enough to 'walk Barrin to his 
ornithopter—in mid-flight. Yarbo started as Barrin 
appeared with the planeswalker, and then Teferi vanished 
back to his blimp. 

"Fly us to the new airbase," the wizard ordered, and the 
pilot turned the craft. Soon the coastline appeared, and 
Barrin compared it to the maps he had received. Yarbo 
winged inland, arriving over the growing base in minutes. 
He put the machine down on a landing pad. People 
converged on Barrin as he exited his craft. 

"Tell me you are here to take over this madhouse," a 
man said as he rushed to the landing craft. 

"I am just an observer, here with Teferi's approval," 
Barrin replied. 

"Another little job for me to handle!" the man shouted, 
and he began stomping around the ornithopter, cursing. 
Several other members of the construction team hurried up 
and began unloading the baggage and gear. Barrin noticed 
several tubes of plans being unloaded and turned to his 
pilot Yarbo for an explanation. 

122 



Vance Moore 

"Since I was flying to pick you up, I was asked to bring a 
set of plans to Willum, the master builder." Yarbo looked at 
the apparent madman still stomping around in a circle. 
"That must be the man you are supposed to observe and 
copy." At Barrin's look of ire, the pilot quickly grabbed his 
personal bag and ran after the withdrawing construction 
workers. Willum orbited back to Barrin, and the wizard 
quickly schooled his face into its usual serious mien. 

The man was short and his skin red from recent 
exposure to the sun. He was heavy and in the rough work 
clothes of a skilled construction worker. His limbs were 
thick with muscle but lacked the definition of an athlete. 
His expression was angry but seemed directed at the world 
at large, not at Barrin standing before him. 

"Willum is the name. I manage the circus you've come 
to see." He extended his hand as he spoke, and Barrin 
gripped it. The wizard could feel the calluses and the 
strength behind them. 

"I am Barrin, and there is no need to dance attendance 
on me. I am here to see how things are done. I'll just follow 
along or perhaps you can gift a junior with me if you are 
busy." Barrin wanted a smooth working relationship with 
the people he observed, and the impromptu war dance 
suggested he might spend more time fighting with Willum 
than learning from him. 

"If you want to learn about the whole operation then 
you better stay with me," Willum answered, turning and 
beginning to walk to the construction site in the distance. 
"I am tasked with putting this together and am the best 
authority you could hope to find here. Besides, maybe you 
can help me." Barrin walked quickly to catch up. "I've 
yelled long enough," Willum continued, "it's time I took a 
break." He chuckled, and Barrin realized that Willum's 

123 



Prophecy 

temper was a tool as carefully wielded as any other in 
finishing the job. 

"Okay," Barrin said. "Then perhaps you can answer a 
question for me. Why is a base for naval patrols so far from 
the sea?" They were almost twelve miles inland, and a 
range of low hills blocked easy access to the ocean. 

"We're an airbase, and while we work in conjunction 
with surface units, none are based here." Willum walked 
the site perimeter. "We have sea access and shipping from a 
river about a mile north of here." He pointed to a graded 
and graveled road that entered a screen of trees. 
"Remember that the former eastern airbase was burned by 
raiders. It's rugged country if they come from the coast, and 
the river adds miles to the trip inland. That's if they get 
past the fort we placed at the mouth." Willum spoke with 
pride as he considered the defensive arrangements. He 
stood on a low berm and gestured in all directions. "This is 
the best point to see everything," he said. 

Barrin stood beside him and looked to the road that 
carried cargo from the river. A collection of tanks and 
piping sat in a depression. Barrin noticed the fresh sod and 
the regularity of the slope and realized that massive 
amounts of dirt must have been moved to create the dip. 

"Why did you lower the ground there?" Barrin asked. 
The works served no obvious defensive purpose, and while 
the strange construction was hidden from a distance, 
aesthetics was an unlikely reason for so much labor. 

"That is where we will be breaking down and refining 
the tufa," Willum replied as he looked on the workers 
connecting pipes and digging additional pits for storage. 
"The stuff it throws off is pretty volatile, and I decided that 
lowering the works would help protect the rest of the site 
in case of accident. Also, some of the vapors can be 
dangerous even if they don't burn, and the geometry of the 

124 



Vance Moore 

digging sends the fumes out toward the trees instead of the 
hangars. The biggest trouble was making sure we had year-
round drainage." Willum kicked at the turf that his men 
cut and laid down after they finished building the rise. 
"The ground can turn to quicksand in rain, and during part 
of the year there's a lot of standing water in this country. I 
didn't want a part-time lake interfering with refinery 
operations. 

"But the hangars are the real heart of the operation and 
the bottleneck to the whole naval strategy," Willum said as 
they walked into the site. As they got closer, Barrin began 
to grasp the sheer scale of the endeavor, and it was 
impressive even when compared to the huge air sheds 
maintained for the dirigibles that flew under Urza's flag. 

"We have already set the foundations for two hangars," 
Willum said. "Each will be almost a thousand feet long and 
nearly two hundred feet high at the roof." Barrin could 
barely grasp the scale of how huge the buildings would be. 
An army of thousands could be massed in each of the 
buildings with ornithopters flying inside. An entire fleet 
could be constructed from the wood used on site. Within 
the year, ten acres would be domed over. 

"Why so large?" Barrin asked. "Surely building on such 
a remote site makes this type of construction almost 
impossible." 

"Teferi states that we are building for the ages, and we 
shouldn't let the flock of small craft we fly now limit the 
size of our facilities," Willum answered. Barrin thought of 
Teferi's heavily armed whale of a command ship and 
wondered just how large the planeswalker's dreams were for 
his aerial fleet. "As you can see, we are setting up the door 
supports for both hangars before we begin construction of 
the walls." 

125 



Prophecy 

Four sets of wooden structures laid out the comers of 
the hangars to come. They were all set on massive concrete 
pedestals. Men were completing work even as Barrin 
watched. Huge cranes overtopped even the soaring gate 
towers. 

"Unfortunately, we don't have adequate men or 
materials to work on both structures at once with all the 
auxiliary buildings we are constructing." He gestured 
toward a barrack, the new wood looking raw even from 
Barrin's distant viewpoint. "If we can increase the flow of 
supplies, maybe we can start construction on the second 
hangar." 

The field along one side of the proposed hangar was 
covered with stacks of lumber. Groups of workmen were 
bolting and fitting together huge sections of arches. As 
they drew closer, Barrin saw three great cranes being 
positioned with the largest secured close to the field. 

"The timbers are all precut, and once they are 
assembled, the large crane will pass them along to the other 
cranes, and then they will all be raised at once." 

A network of narrow trenches crisscrossed the ground 
before them, and Willum turned to walk the length of the 
proposed structure. At Barrin's glance, he briefly explained, 
"Drainage, remember. Eventually I'll receive a load of sewer 
pipe and be able to fill them in. Right now, it's trust a 
plank or jump over them." Willum demonstrated that he 
was able to navigate the hazard by leaping over a water-
filled obstacle as Barrin followed. 

"This is all very impressive, but I am more interested in 
the problems you're having now than the plans you have 
for the future," Barrin told him. 

"My problem is we are out in the middle of nowhere, 
and everything has to be brought onsite." Willum waved at 
the stacks of cut lumber. "We've trees all over this country 

126 



Vance Moore 

and upriver, but because I can't get the men or materials, 
there's no way to cut and mill them." He pointed in the 
direction of the river. "Every stick and brick I need has to 
be barged from along the coast to the western ports and 
then hauled upriver and trundled along one road." He 
began to stomp heavily, showing his temper. "The stinking 
sea monsters and the bloody Keldons seem to sink about 
one in three before they can get here, and you can imagine 
how that screws up my schedule." Barrin wondered how 
many men were dying for that schedule. 

Willum clenched his fists in frustration. "Not that I 
have enough men for the materials I do get. I've scraped 
through every city to find decent construction workers, and 
I have them cooking, gathering firewood, and trying to get 
around a lack of basic necessities." He was beginning to 
wave his arms now, and Barrin prudently stepped away to 
avoid an unlucky blow. "We need a town and farms here, 
or this base will never get done in time or keep enough 
blimps flying." 

"Surely you have communicated your problems to 
Teferi." 

Barrin placated the distraught man. It only provoked 
heavier stomping and wider gestures. 

"I'm not a fool. Of course I've communicated my 
concerns to higher command, and I received one blimp for 
escort duty." Willum considered the blimp in the distance 
with narrowed eyes. "One blimp that is available perhaps 
two weeks a month because it has to fly west for 
maintenance and rearming. I can barely get it to deliver my 
mail much less protect my shipping. The rest of the air fleet 
is always far out at sea or flying from western ports. Hell, 
this airbase is supposed to stop Keldon raids, and until I get 
it constructed, I'm naked." Willum seethed at the paradox 

127 



Prophecy 

that only after he constructed the airbase would shipments 
of building supplies become sure. 

The builder turned to Barrin with intensity and 
decision plain in his eyes. "If you want to see and do 
something important, figure out how to guard my shipping 
or there won't be much to see." 

Barrin wondered how he could control a stretch of 
nearly deserted coast for hundreds of miles with only a 
single blimp and a heavy ornithopter. The blimp left on 
patrol before he could interview its crew. As he thought, 
he realized that he didn't need to patrol the open sea. 
What needed air cover were the supply ships. Barrin 
resolved to fly to the shipping port to get a handle on the 
supply problem. 

* * * * * 

The morning was crisp as Barrin walked to the 
ornithopter. The ground was covered with a light frost 
melting in the early sunlight. The shipping port of Kitani 
lay only an hour's flight away. It was time to take command 
of the supply line and expedite construction of the airbase. 

Teferi was counting on patrols flying out of the hangars, 
and their construction depended on timely shipments. 
Barrin was going to convince the shippers to be bolder. As 
he clambered into his ornithopter, he wondered how angry 
he should be when he met the leaders of Kitani. 

He settled into his machine, and it rose into the air 
swiftly. He looked at the airbase shrinking below him and 
saw once more how isolated it truly was. Barrin flew over 
the sea of forest green and soon the gray of the ocean was 
beneath his craft. The coast was rocky, and Barrin glanced 
at the waves beating on cliffs and narrow beaches. The 
violence of the waves evoked images of the Keldons 

128 



Vance Moore 

waiting to attack these shores. The raiders must be stopped 
out at sea, or, like a tidal wave, they would wash over the 
coastal towns. This land was under his protection now. He 
thought on how to defend it as the flight continued. 

The first sign that something was wrong was a magical 
call that washed over him like a bucket of ice water. 

"This is Kitani. We are under attack from Keldon 
raiders. At least two ships have landed, and warriors are 
inside the city. Any League forces within range. This is 
Kitani ..." The message repeated, an ethereal cry for help. 
Barrin thought on how thinly stretched the League was and 
realized that he might be the only aid the city could 
expect. He accelerated to his maximum speed and 
wondered if he would reach Kitani in time. 

The port city appeared in the distance. Smoke was 
beginning to rise, and Barrin could tell that fires burned in 
several places. Soon piers and docks showed, with many of 
the warehouses and boatyards engulfed in flame. Two 
Keldon warships were tied up, their decks nearly deserted. 

The raiders must already be in town, Barrin thought. 
But where are the League forces? 

Then he saw flames devouring wreckage on a beach 
outside of the city. A blimp had crashed and was burning. 
The pile of debris suddenly shattered in a series of 
explosions as munitions cooked off. The flames were green 
and purple and rose toward the heavens. The concussion 
rocked Barrin's ornithopter as he swooped to land. Then 
flaming fragments struck his craft as he hit the ground in a 
controlled crash. Flaming brands fell everywhere, and he 
knew that his first priority was stopping the fires or he 
would lose the town. 

Barrin threw himself outside and coughed as the smoke 
and haze swept over him. He steadied himself and cast his 
magic into the sky. His power ballooned over the town and 

129 



Prophecy 

his mind peered down into the city streets. Fighting spread 
from house to house, but it was the fires that grabbed his 
attention. The figures of League marines faded from his 
thoughts as he grounded his power into the sea. Now 
clouds filled the sky and the sea steamed as water 
catapulted itself into Barrin's dome of power. The sky was 
black and rumbling with thunder as more and more water 
collected in the air. The sky reached maximum saturation, 
and then it released as the storm began. Water poured in, 
driving rain that extinguished many of the fires in an 
instant. Fighting in the town slowed as men flattened 
under the force of the water. The most intense 
conflagrations were hit harder as Barrin concentrated on 
them. Wind threw a river of water into buildings, and the 
hiss of steam could be heard over the storm. Barrin turned 
his attention to the Keldon ships, but even as he 
concentrated and rallied his power, another magic user 
latched onto the storm. 

Fountains of power reared up on the docks and 
congealed into crystalline towers of magic. Barrin could 
feel the sharp recoil as new magic speared the storm. He 
readied for a counter stroke, but the taste of the magic was 
so familiar. He realized that it reminded him of the League 
distress call. Lightning flowed from the storm into the 
crystals, and then arcs of energy sheared into the Keldon 
vessels. Decks seared and exploded as the power flowed 
over the ships. Sailors were charred as the Keldons rushed 
to respond. Barrin felt admiration for the unknown ally, 
but he could feel the Keldon mages preparing a response as 
the League magic cleared the decks. 

"We have no time," Barrin said as he detected more 
fighting within the city. People were dying, and Barrin 
resolved to finish the Keldon ships now. His mind 
clenched, and sheet lightning blinded him as he directed 

130 



Vance Moore 

his will. The energy surge hit the crystal towers, and they 
detonated in a white flash, tearing through the Keldon 
ships. One craft exploded as Keldon magic interacted with 
Barrin's strike, and debris flew everywhere. The other ship 
was gutted as a wound opened from stem to stern. Keldons 
died in agony as arcs of power played over them. The sea 
filled the hull almost instantly, and the ship settled, its 
decks soon underwater. 

Barrin gasped, bent over with strain as his mind 
disengaged from the sky. The storm continued, but the rain 
lightened as his will no longer directed the deluge. Barrin 
straightened and headed into the city, preparing himself to 
meet the Keldons at close quarters. 

The streets were narrow and cobblestone. The buildings 
were stone and timber, and rain poured from tiled roofs. 
Here and there structures smoldered and stank as the 
continuing rain drenched materials that had burned only 
minutes before. Barrin turned a corner, and suddenly a 
sword flashed. But the attack stopped before Barrin 
responded. A League marine stood before him with a small 
target shield, his sword ready. Water poured from his 
helmet and armor as he saluted. 

"Sir, if you would come with me to the captain, sir!" He 
turned and ran deeper into town. Barrin followed, bemused 
by his instant acceptance. The marine went past a series of 
barricades, and Barrin could see corpses as they continued 
up the street. 

"How did you know I was coining?" Barrin asked. The 
marine paused to check around a corner before continuing. 

"We have scouts running the roofs, and they reported 
you landing," the marine replied. "We assumed that you 
had something to do with the storm," 

Barrin nodded, but the marine darted around the corner 
before he could continue. A long street lay before them, 

131 



Prophecy 

and a barricade was at each end. A company of men and 
war machines stood ready, and Barrin got a glimpse of more 
soldiers in other buildings. 

"The magic user from the beach," the scout reported to 
the officer in charge. Smoke and ash had darkened the 
officer's skin and uniform, and he grinned as Barrin came 
up. 

"Excellent attack, Lord Barrin," the officer said, noting 
the mage's surprise. "All naval and marine commands were 
notified of your arrival on the coast. Can we expect more 
reinforcements soon?" He peered behind Barrin as if 
watching for more arrivals. 

"I'm afraid that no one else is with me," Barrin stated. "I 
wouldn't count on any more help for quite some time." 

The officer swore and turned to consider the street. The 
marines were armed with swords, shields, and light armor. 
Several stood ready with short bows, and Barrin could see 
other bowmen creeping along the roofs on one side of the 
street. Barrin regarded the war machines that he could see. 
Most were steel ants, the machines dripping water and 
some lubricants. Most were battered, and a few were 
missing limbs. Barrin wondered how heavy the fighting had 
been. Two machines towered over the rest. These were 
marine mantises—six-legged bodies at waist height with 
rearing towers for torsos that overtopped the marines 
standing beside them. Their heads were insectile and large 
with great mandibles covered with blood from today's 
fighting. Each had the two arms folded against its body, 
and Barrin could see flesh and cloth caught in the barbed 
surfaces. Then Barrin detected the rising of familiar magic 
and walked closer to the barricade, stepping up onto a cart 
for a better view. 

Standing on the other side of the barricade was an 
athletic-looking Jamuraan woman with straight black hair. 

132 



Vance Moore 

Barrin could feel the power rushing through her frame. She 
was wearing a soaked blue cloak with an intricate black 
and white checker pattern across the front, and she looked 
tiny—nearly lost—under the wet cloth. Two marines 
crouched next to her with large shields, tensed as if waiting 
to interpose themselves between her and danger. She flung 
her arms wide and three crystalline tops appeared and raced 
down the street. Each top spun and glowed with inner fire 
as they dodged around bodies, heading for the open doors 
of a building midway down the road. Suddenly shutters 
flew up, and Keldon warriors stood revealed, hurling 
weapons and debris at the tops. Two shattered, and the 
pieces tumbled to the ground before dissolving into the 
aether. Marine archers on the roofs of the buildings across 
the street shot volleys of arrows, sending warriors for cover. 
The surviving top curved into the entrance and exploded. 
Barrin could see blue knives of crystalline magic flying back 
out of the entrance and thudding into buildings across the 
sheet. 

"Damn," the woman swore as she crouched behind the 
shields her two marines had raised. "I thought I'd get two 
inside." The marine captain stepped forward and waved her 
down. 

"This is Alexi, Lord Barrin," he said. "She was a mage 
on a blimp and had the misfortune to be shot down outside 
of town." 

"Lucky for you I survived," she said hotly. "I wonder 
how you would have done without me." She glowered 
briefly. "I've been making those swine pay for my crew all 
afternoon, and if I could get some support we could finish 
them now!" 

The captain shrugged and turned apologetically to 
Barrin. "We have pinned the raiders in the warehouses on 
one side of the street. We can't surround the building, and 

133 



Prophecy 

eventually the raiders are going to chop another entrance 
and escape." 

"Why not blow open the buildings and send your 
machines in under cover fire from the archers?" Barrin 
asked. Alexi seemed powerful enough, and with his aid 
they could peel the complex like a grape. 

"We thought of that, but the building contains essential 
supplies that explosions and heavy weapons would damage. 
The place must be taken by hand to hand, and storming 
the entrances is going to be bloody. I'd wait, but Alexi says 
there's at least one Keldon mage in there. He'll burn the 
place down, or his soldiers will, if we wait much longer. 
And without their ships they are going to try to destroy the 
rest of the town. We will attack in five minutes." The 
captain visibly tensed up as he prepared to give the order. 

"Wait, Captain," Barrin said with authority. "If Alexi 
and I were to screen your attack until you entered the 
building, you could achieve maximum surprise and avoid 
casualties during you charge. Let me confer with Alexi for a 
moment, and then you can send your orders." The captain 
looked as if a division had appeared to support him and 
went to talk to his soldiers in better humor. 

"Screen them how?" Alexi whispered as the captain 
withdrew. 

"First, how many mages are in that building?" Barrin 
asked. 

"There's just one opposing mage left, but those 
buildings are crammed with munitions, refined tufa oil, and 
essential naval stores. The first thing the mage will do is 
destroy it all, and perhaps the town, when we break in. 
We'll destroy the place ourselves if we throw anything too 
powerful. My tops and light-knives are as strong as I dare 
use." Alexi looked disgusted at the curbs to her power and 
thirst for battle. 

134 



Vance Moore 

"I can prevent the Keldons from seeing the charge, and 
I can smother the efforts of just one mage," Barrin said with 
confidence. "But I can't keep it up forever, so the marines 
need to take that building quickly." 

"I will push the attack myself." She said. "When will 
you be ready?" 

"As soon as I get into a better viewing position," Barrin 
replied and went to speak to the captain. Within minutes 
new orders were flying, and Barrin made his way to the 
roofs with the archers. He half-crawled over the roof across 
from the main warehouse entrance. He seated himself and 
began to call up his power. He imagined the world as a 
painting, scenery coming into existence as he maneuvered 
his imaginary canvas into position in front of the 
warehouse. Archers poured from the roof down stairwells as 
Barrin signaled that his illusion was in place. The League 
marines began to walk down the street quietly and 
carefully, a few soldiers left at the barricade making as 
much noise as possible to cover the shuffling of feet. Steel 
ants and the mantises were hand guided for maximum 
silence. Barrin felt the illusion firming, and he began 
raising more power. The most difficult part was masking his 
magic so as to remain undetected. Barrin infiltrated the 
warehouse with subtle spells, feeling for the knot of energy 
that was the enemy mage. More power licked into the 
structure as Barrin filled it with his awareness and will. 

Alexi was with the column below, and she began the 
attack. Her power instantly created five spinning tops that 
darted into the entrance. They exploded into showers of 
blue knives that cut living flesh to ribbons. Steel ants 
followed the tops and mounted internal barricades manned 
by dying Keldons, falling upon warriors rushing to 
reinforce. Barrin's mind could follow the attack, and he 
watched as Keldons fell to pieces under metal mandibles. 

135 



Prophecy 

Shouting raiders rallied their men and charged the 
machines with swords and axes that smashed metal armor 
and removed mechanical limbs. Marines poured in and 
firmed the League lines. The mantises moved to attack the 
Keldon leaders, and the core of the defense broke as long 
steel arms darted out, lopping off limbs and heads of those 
opposing the war machines. 

Barrin felt the rush of power as the Keldon mage acted 
to turn the attack. Barrin submerged the mage in a sea of 
stillness. The enemy mage drew more power but could 
initiate no spell against Barrin's might. Alexi was inside 
now, and her spells lanced into the Keldon line. Knives of 
light cut a bloody swath into the building. Barrin could feel 
the Keldon mage trying to cast a spell—any spell— but the 
power he had called to him had no outlet. The enemy 
wizard fell to his knees and clutched at his face, his eyes 
rolling back into his head. Smoke began to rise from the 
man's shoulders and limbs, and the Keldon magic user burst 
into brilliant red flames. Alexi and the other League forces 
gave the burning pile a wide berth as they closed on the 
remaining raiders. Then, just as suddenly as they had 
ignited, the brilliant fire went out, leaving only a huge 
black scorch mark on the floor. 

Barrin rose and looked with his mortal eyes into the 
street and through the open doorway and shutters of the 
warehouse. Bodies lay everywhere with streams of blood 
connecting the corpses. The League had won but at a 
ruinous cost to the marines and the town. Now, more than 
ever, Barrin was determined to stop the Keldons at sea. He 
already knew the first thing he would requisition from this 
town. He went to inform Alexi that she would now be 
serving under his command. 

136 



Vance Moore 

Chapter 9 

"Keldon coming in—about twenty miles south of your 
position," came the call. 

"Finally!" Alexi exclaimed and ran from her bunk to 
the detector station. It had been nearly a month since the 
pitched battle at Kitani, and today's was the first enemy 
detected off the coast since then. Barrin had acted quickly 
in the aftermath of the battle and began patrols to 
intercept the Keldon raiders at sea. Shipments of materials 
to the airbase construction site were increased. No League 
supply ships had been sunk for the past month, but now the 
Keldons were renewing their attack as Barrin worked to 
reestablish command over coastal waters. 

Alexi and Barrin were out on patrol in a Kashan blimp 
screening a supply fleet hauling the last loads of vital 
construction supplies. The Keldons had chosen the perfect 
time to attack. 

Barrin stood at the blimp detection equipment, casting 
a spell into a shallow bowl of seawater. His eyes looked out 
on a vast expanse of sea, and he could feel Alexi pushing 
her senses into the magic. 

"Tell Yarbo we have the target and he is to search for 
supporting units," Barrin said to the communications 
officer. 

Alexi ran from her bunk to the detection gear. Now 
that a battle was close at hand, she showed the streak of 
fastidiousness that Barrin had found endearing. It reminded 
him of his daughter, Hannah, when she was very young. 

137 



Prophecy 

"How long till they're in range, Barrin?" she asked. 

"If they don't try to shear off, ten minutes. Though they 
might not see us at all until it's too late." Barrin had 
worked with the crew in altering the natural color scheme 
of the envelope until it was harder to see against the sky. 
The Avenging Cloud was easy to lose against its namesakes. 

"There it is," Barrin said and pointed down. Alexi 
regarded the images conjured up by Barrin. A tiny fleet of 
Keldon ships appeared to float in the bowl. Several ships 
were accelerating toward the League convoy. The ships 
began to spread out and hazy smoke began to rise from fires 
burning in great kettles on the decks. The bowl of water 
that Barrin held between his hands clouded and only 
glimpses of ships could be seen. 

"They are spreading out to fall on the supplies," Barrin 
said to Alexi. "Tell the pilot to head northwest. We will 
take them on one at a time." Alexi ran forward to relay the 
order. 

Barrin began calling for League reinforcements via 
magic, but the Keldons' spells of deceit were spreading 
everywhere. There was serious power aboard those ships, 
and Barrin decided that his power was better saved for 
combat than used to call for help that might not arrive. He 
directed the communications officer to send out a distress 
call, and the old wizard went forward and sat down in 
temporary seats close to the pilot. 

"I'm taking her in a circle to come around the target," 
the pilot announced, and he cut the gas makers. There was 
a definite tilt, and the pilot let the machine rise a few 
hundred feet before the blimp stabilized. The copilot began 
the slow and steady dance to keep the blimp at the current 
level through small releases of gas and adjustments to the 
throttles. That dance would become frenzy once battle 
began. 

138 



Vance Moore 

Barrin closed his eyes, tapping the power of his home 
on Tolaria, and directed a hurricane of magic toward the 
rising smokescreen around the Keldon vessel. The deceitful 
smoke thinned as the enemy mages redirected their 
magical efforts. "I don't see any signs of panic at all down 
there." Alexi was staring down onto the ship's deck. 

Long and narrow, the vessel was crowded with warriors. 
Three masts rose, but no sails were raised even though the 
ship cut through the water, sending spray high into the air. 
Two concentrations of machines were at the bow and 
amidships. The men surrounding them fed fires with 
unnatural fuels and the blood of a slave. A body went over 
the side as a Keldon mage twisted the last drop of magic 
from a slave's corpse. 

"They are heading straight for us. I don't like this. 
Widen the circle," Alexi ordered. The pilot obeyed. The 
gondola swayed as it went into a turn. 

Barrin was aware of what was happening, but his mind 
searched for the rest of the enemy fleet. He was confident 
that Alexi and the crew of the Kashan blimp could handle 
one attacker. 

"I don't suppose there are any pets you can throw at 
them," the pilot asked, hinting that Alexi could introduce 
a sea monster into the fight. 

"No—and too strong a call might endanger the 
convoy." The blimp was swinging wider, and sailors began 
to move more rapidly on the Keldon ship as it began its 
own turn to bear on the blimp. 

"They could care less about the convoy. We're the one 
they want," said the pilot. Suddenly a catapult on the ship 
below discharged, throwing an arc of fire into the sky. 
"Someone got a little too eager," the pilot guessed as the 
arc peaked well below their altitude and turned into racing 
ribbons of fire, spiraling down to the ocean's surface. The 

139 



Prophecy 

pilot smiled and altered his course to bear on the ship. Gas 
began emptying out of the bag as the area below entered 
the range of the rockets the pilot controlled. 

"Firing," he called. From under their feet came a rapid 
series of thumps, and the nose began to pitch up. A deluge 
of rocket-driven darts rained down and emptied into the 
water and against the ship. 

"You got something!" Alexi crowed, and the tattered 
ship began losing way. One of the smoking machines on 
the ship's deck was on its side, and crewmembers sluiced a 
spreading fire with seawater from pumps. 

The copilot was checking trim and preparing to deal 
with the loss of four bombs. Barrin was easing his efforts to 
bolster the ship's defensive system, while Alexi was 
concentrating on sweeping the area for additional 
attackers. All the people in the control cabin prepared to 
savor a masterful attack run. The doomed ship below sent 
up another arc of racing streamers, but the pilot ignored 
the futile attempt to distract him. He was about to release 
the bombs when the copilot dumped ballast in a rush. The 
shock tripped the already primed bombing system, and four 
heavy bombs fell toward the ocean. The crewmembers 
watched in disbelief as the bombs went off in close 
proximity to the ship but did not strike a crippling blow. 

"Why the hell did you do that?" Alexi cursed as she 
watched their only remaining offensive weapons expending 
themselves uselessly against the sea. The copilot only 
pointed to a fire streamer in the distance. 

"It skipped." The meaning of the confusing statement 
became clear as the Keldon fire streamer gathered into a 
closed ball of flame that pulsed and expanded and then 
rose steeply into the air. Even after dumping the bombs and 
the ballast, the flaming ball was still dangerously close to 
the blimp. If the copilot had not acted, the flames from the 

140 



Vance Moore 

Keldon weapon would be spraying over them now. The 
pilot, Alexi, and Barrin had all succumbed to target 
fixation, and only the copilot remembered to check around 
for other dangers. Barrin reminded himself to recommend 
the man for a commendation. 

The Keldon ship was cutting through the water again 
and closing with the League supply fleet. Its bow once more 
sent up a wave of spray, and sailors swept bodies and debris 
into the sea. Flares began to rise into the air, and Barrin 
wondered if the ship was relaying orders or just trying to 
confuse its attackers. 

"Whoever is commanding the ship is completely crazy," 
Alexi said as they raced to interpose themselves between 
the ship and the convoy. "He invited a rocket attack, and if 
we hadn't acted at the last second to save ourselves the 
ship would have broken up under the bombs." 

"He may be crazy, but he came uncomfortably close to 
hitting us," Barrin replied, computing the distance to the 
convoy and how much time before the Keldons could 
attack. There were only minutes to act, and Barrin didn't 
like the situation. He had many direct magical strikes that 
would destroy the opposing ship, but he might need those 
spells later to deal with the other Keldon ships. Barrin 
needed to sink this vessel quickly and cheaply. 

"Alexi, begin calling whatever you can. If you call up a 
kraken or a leviathan, I won't mind. Just send something 
against that ship," the old wizard directed. 

Alexi began concentrating, and crystal spheres formed. 
The crystals began vibrating, singing to attract the 
creatures of the deep, but the violence of the battle made 
success unlikely. The Keldon ship worsened the situation 
by launching several skipping streamers of fire into the sky. 
The transforming balls of flame drove the blimp off and 
made it harder for Barrin and Alexi to act. Now the League 

141 



Prophecy 

convoy appeared on the horizon, and the Keldon ship 
launched three more streamers of flame high into the sky. 
The fire raced in the direction of Barrin's supply ships, and 
he acted to protect them. The clouds that laced the sky 
seemed to darken as if soaking up ink. A wind blew from 
the land out to sea. Barrin threw out pulses of power in 
short bursts, accelerating the process. If he couldn't find 
the Keldon fleet, he would clear the seas surrounding the 
League supply ships. The wind and clouds circled over the 
fleet, and waves mounted and shifted directions as the sea 
went mad. The League ships continued on in the eye of a 
growing storm. No more fire streams flew toward the 
heavens as the Keldons tried to preserve their ship and 
enter the calm of the eye. 

"Keep us between the Keldons and the convoy, even if 
you dump us in the sea to do it," Barrin ordered the pilot. 
The wizard continued to pound and shape the forces of the 
air with his will. 

The battle was a strange one. The Avenging Cloud kept 
station and moved only in response to the Keldon ship, 
which became increasingly hard to track. The Keldons' 
attempts to conceal themselves were amplified by the rain 
and wind that Barrin kept roaring over the sea. Alexi sent 
out magic sentinels to track the ship, but the violence of 
the wind shattered their crystalline structure. She was blind 
until the violence of the storm abated. 

Barrin paused in his assault when he felt Alexi's efforts. 
"I think I detected another ship beyond the wind." Barrin 
battled with the storm, not the Keldons. The winds and 
waves seemed hungry for the ships that sailed in the eye. 
Barrin could not reply to another Keldon attack for some 
minutes. The blimp and the entire convoy were in a 
dangerous position. 

142 



Vance Moore 

"We have to sink at least one of the Keldons right 
now." Alexi stated the obvious. 

"Can you call up anything?" Barrin asked hopefully. 

"Right now, I couldn't command a goldfish," Alexi said 
with disgust. 

"Then we will have to get as close as possible and attack 
the ship directly," Barrin declared. "Have the pilot take us 
down to just a few hundred feet above the water." 

The storm Barrin had conjured was making the pilot's 
job much harder than the man was prepared to deal with. 
He was constantly adjusting the throttles and was green 
with nausea. The blimp flexed and rose with the vagaries of 
the wind, and the pilot retched over the controls as he 
fought airsickness. The pilot listened to Alexi convey the 
old wizard's orders as he fought a downdraft. 

"He wants us just over the sea?" the pilot exclaimed. 
"With this wind, he wants us just over the water?" 

"It's the only way to attack the Keldons. We need to 
stay low," Alexi ordered, visibly gagging from the odor of 
vomit. She returned to Barrin. 

"I will support the defenses, and you must take the 
offense." Barrin was winded from his constant struggle with 
the storm. He needed a few moments to collect himself. 
"Hit them with a massive power strike the second you can 
see the ship," Barrin directed. 

"You have more power than I ever will," Alexi 
confessed. "You'd have a greater range." 

"If I thought you could juggle several spells at once I 
would switch places. Now get up with the pilot before some 
other disaster happens." Barrin's words came out all at 
once, as if he couldn't spare the time or energy to sustain a 
longer conversation. The old mage locked his arms to the 
side of the cabin, bracing himself for a long fight and 
against the gyrations of the blimp in the storm. 

143 



Prophecy 

Alexi went forward. The pilot was empty, and his 
stomach contractions brought up nothing as the violence 
seemed to increase. Now each surge of wind induced storms 
of cursing as the pilot wrestled with the controls. The water 
jumped closer, and then the engines fought their way up. 

"There!" the pilot shouted as a ship appeared less than a 
hundred yards away. 

Alexi closed her eyes and let fly her attack. She formed 
her spell just outside the blimp. Her surge of power 
shattered the gondola's windows as energy speared the 
enemy ship. The concussion reverberated throughout the 
cabin. Alexi's strike split the masts on the Keldon raider 
and crushed many of the sailors fighting to keep it afloat. 

The pilot tried to climb, but deafened and confused, he 
turned the craft and caught the wind. The Avenging Cloud 
began to retreat at a high speed, but not high enough to 
escape a counterattack. Alexi dumbly wondered how they 
kept the ammunition for the catapult ready in such heavy 
seas as a fire streamer covered the blimp. Fire ran like water 
over the envelope. The crew waited for the explosion, but 
Barrin powered the blimp's defenses against fire, and the 
Keldon flames washed over the gondola into the sea. Alexi 
sealed the shattered window with planes of magic glass, but 
she hissed in agony as a stray lick of flame played over her 
skin. 

All of Barrin's energy focused on keeping the blimp 
whole, and the magical storm began to break up. Three 
battered enemy ships lay revealed less than a thousand 
yards away. Mysteriously, the Keldons didn't fire, and then 
Barrin heard the communications man shouting behind 
him. 

"It's the Hunter!" he yelled. "They finally made it 
here!" 

144 



Vance Moore 

Teferi's blimp was thousands of feet up and behind the 
Keldon fleet. Even as Barrin watched warriors running to 
load catapults, the Hunter dropped four large objects that 
accelerated sharply and seemed to fly down to an enemy 
ship. Explosions smashed the Keldons to pieces, and the 
ship instantly sank beneath the waves. 

Barrin could feel Teferi aboard the other craft creating 
walls of protective energy over the League supply fleet. A 
desperate attack from a Keldon caster hit Teferi's spell as a 
ribbon of flame, but it transformed into an explosion of 
cinders drifting down into the ocean. Barrin latched onto 
the dissipating storm and spun it into another of the 
Keldon ships. A twist of wind dipped into the sea and 
formed a great waterspout that moved over the ship and 
tore it apart. Flames from enemy spells filled the watery 
column and were sucked up into the clouds, exploding into 
sheet lightning. The concussion weakened the storm, and 
Barrin's blimp rose as the pilot aimed for a clearing sky. 
The final Keldon ship tried to withdraw, its casters 
throwing a huge display of fiery streams and cloaking 
smoke into the air. Barrin felt the planeswalker turn the 
smoke into an acidic rain that fell onto the fleeing Keldon 
ship. The liquid ate through the sailors and into the holds. 

Barrin expanded the blimp defenses against fire, and 
the last few streamers sputtered and lost momentum long 
before they closed with the blimp. Alexi's bloodthirst 
demanded satisfaction, and she hurled exploding crystalline 
lances of energy at the retreating ship. 

"Die, die, die!" she screamed as her attack penetrated 
below decks and started fires. The raider had fought heavy 
seas all day and was stressed beyond endurance. The sharp 
detonations of Alexi's lances began to break up the ship. It 
was already doomed when a great whirlpool called by 
Teferi dragged it beneath the waves. 

145 



Prophecy 

* * * * * 


The airbase would be completed within days. After the 
supply fleet docked, the final pieces of the tufa refinery 
were quickly set into place. The warehouses behind 
protective berms were now filled with munitions. While 
Willum oversaw the final touches before transferring back 
to the west, Barrin and Teferi retreated to discuss where to 
direct the League's growing strength. 

It was hours later that an aide interrupted them at the 
map table. Teferi frowned with annoyance as the aide 
handed him a note and withdrew. The planeswalker 
suddenly grinned and rose from his chair. 

"Come on, Barrin. Your reinforcements from home are 
arriving at the landing field. You should be on hand to 
meet them. In fact, you better carry the welcome." Teferi 
snatched up wine and a fruit bowl and shoved them to 
Barrin. The wizard rose slowly but did not protest. 
Anything that lightened Teferi's mood was welcome. 

The passengers began to disembark, and Shalanda, aide 
to Barrin's wife Rayne, was the first to touch ground. She 
was tall and garbed in rough clothing. Her skin was a deep 
brown and her features were weathered by exposure to the 
elements. Her hazel eyes widened in recognition, and she 
walked toward Barrin with her hands outstretched. The old 
wizard saw the woman behind her and handed Shalanda 
the food and drink as he walked by. 

Rayne embraced Barrin, and they held each other as 
the rest of the passengers flowed around them. Barrin 
hugged his wife fiercely, nuzzling her dark hair. He felt 
younger as he looked at her. Appearing only in her thirties, 
Barrin wondered at the decades of love they had shared 
and the centuries that would be theirs. When they finally 
turned their eyes from each other, only Teferi still stood on 

146 



Vance Moore 

the field. The planeswalker looked envious for just an 
instant before he stepped forward to clasp Rayne's offered 
hand. 

"I am happy to see you, Rayne," Teferi said as he let go 
of her hand and gestured that they should enter the offices. 

"You should have come to Tolaria more often, Teferi," 
Rayne replied as she grasped Barrin's hand. 

"You know that I prefer to take Urza in small doses if 
possible," Teferi replied as they arrived at the strategy 
room. 

"Urza is rarely there, Teferi," Barrin explained. "My 
wife and I manage Tolaria. In fact, this is the longest I have 
been off the island since we battled the Phyrexians for it." 
Barrin pulled out a chair for his wife. He stood behind her 
with his hands on her shoulders. He could feel the 
tenseness in her muscles from hours in flight, and he 
massaged them. Rayne trembled slightly at the touch of his 
hands but reluctantly considered the maps and unit 
markers on the table. 

"Barrin and I have been discussing a land campaign to 
the east," Teferi explained. "A counter invasion, so to 
speak. Barrin tells me that you will be ferrying equipment 
to support a Tolarian army in the field. When can we 
expect the first wave of forces?" 

"We should see them arriving within the week." Rayne 
was oddly evasive, her eyes looking at the forces displayed 
and the long lines of advance that the two men had 
penciled in. 

"We will have some difficulty integrating with League 
forces. As you can see, it will take weeks to concentrate the 
army on the frontier." Barrin reached for the list of towns 
and garrisons that would house the forward units even as 
he wondered what Rayne was hiding. 

"Just what forces are you bringing?" Teferi asked. 

147 



Prophecy 

"Two great dirigibles will be landing here. One with a 
cargo of light runners, the other with a load of power 
crystal and parts to help feed your own artificers. That's 
all." She seemed embarrassed to say it, and Barrin was 
stunned. 

"Surely you mean that this is only the first flight, my 
dear?" Barrin asked. He thought of the tens of thousands of 
war machines stored on Tolaria and the terrible weapons 
that he had helped construct. 

"There may be a few ornithopter flights of students, but 
the two loads of materials are all for now. The dirigibles 
will withdraw for a season, so you won't have them for 
transport," Rayne answered quietly and began to move a 
few unit markers on the board to represent the Tolarian 
forces. 

"Why did Urza send so little?" Teferi wondered aloud. 

"Urza considers all of Dominaria, not just a single 
continent. He has sent the equipment and students that he 
could spare." Rayne turned from Teferi and finished 
moving a last few markers. 

Barrin tried to explain Urza's actions as he had so often 
over the years. "Teferi, I'm sure Urza has excellent reasons 
for what he has done—even as you have focused your 
attentions west and in the naval campaign." Barrin pointed 
at the coastal and river cities on which Teferi had lavished 
most of his attention. 

"We are just beginning to realize how many troops and 
machines we will need to cover the frontier without 
committing any to combat. I am sure that his priorities will 
change once a clearer picture of our need is available." 
Barrin had counted on elite squads of war machines to 
head the offensive and provide him with an independent 
command. 

148 



Vance Moore 

"Teferi," Rayne said, "it is growing late, and it was an 
exhausting trip. This is also the first time my husband and I 
have met in months. Give us this night for reunion and 
leave the war for tomorrow." 

"Of course." Teferi bowed to the couple as Barrin rose 
to escort his wife to his quarters. But even Barrin's joy at 
seeing Rayne after all this time couldn't drown his 
disappointment at the support he had received from home. 

"Why did Urza send so little?" Barrin asked later. A 
lamp was burning on the nightstand beside his bed as 
Rayne unpacked her things. He could think of no reason 
for Urza to provide so little. He hoped that his wife could 
explain what was happening. 

"I was never even able to speak to Urza. He reappeared 
on Tolaria in the middle of the night, read your dispatches, 
and ordered the limited reinforcement. He left before news 
of his arrival even reached me." Rayne shoved his clothing 
to the side of a wardrobe and began hanging her robes. 
Barrin watched as she integrated her things among his. 

"If Urza isn't on the island, then what are you doing 
here? Who did he appoint in your place to oversee the 
academy and the factories?" Barrin could think of no one 
that he would trust to replace Rayne and her expertise. 

"Urza gave no orders—I came on my own," Rayne 
answered simply as she pushed a large trunk of her things to 
the side of the room. Barrin's chest of drawers was too small 
to allow her to unpack more. She turned and set herself for 
the coming response. 

"What! You left everything on a whim? Just picked up 
your luggage and came?" Barrin knew from bitter 
experience how vast and consuming the responsibility of 
command could be in managing Urza's extensive 
operations. 

149 



Prophecy 

Rayne's reply was calm but as implacable as any 
juggernaut. "Do you really think that I would leave you 
alone out here knowing how little support Urza sent? That 
I would stay behind safe while you and the students I 
encouraged to volunteer went off to fight a war?" Rayne 
gazed with love but more than a little exasperation at her 
mate. "Besides, how can you possibly coordinate missions 
from this airbase, work with Teferi as an advisor, lead a 
detail of artifact troops, and maintain the intricate systems 
the Tolarian war machines require?" Rayne stopped to 
smile. "The academy will survive on its own. Most of the 
real work has been completed, and the remaining students 
and scholars are doing mainly maintenance. Everything is 
going as Urza planned—except for this war." Barrin was 
visibly softening his resolve and coming to see the situation 
the same way Rayne did. "Whether you like it or not," she 
continued, "you need me to take charge of the artifice I just 
delivered. You can't do it all by yourself." 

Barrin knew when to concede a battle. "You're right," 
he said finally. "It's just that the next phase of the war is so 
uncertain. I spent months focused on building and 
supporting this airbase. All that work, yet I am certain that 
this has just been a sideshow to the real war." 

"As I said to Teferi," Rayne reminded as she sat down 
on the bed beside him, "leave the war for tomorrow." 
Barrin kissed his wife and forgot the world outside their 
room. 

150 



Vance Moore 

Chapter 10 

Barrin and Rayne spent nearly a week together, but it 
went by very quickly. Soon the two of them were sucked 
into the madness of the war in Jamuraa. 

Teferi came into the map room where the two Tolarian 
scholars were working. "I'd like to introduce you both to a 
good friend of mine. Barrin, Rayne, this is Jolreal, 
affectionately known here on Jamuraa as the Empress of 
the Beasts." Beside Teferi stood a tall Jamuraan woman in 
ornate purple and green robes and a finely crafted 
headdress of feathers. She was very tall and slender and 
carried herself in a regal fashion, befitting her title of 
empress. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. Teferi has told 
me much of you over the years." Jolreal bowed to her new 
acquaintances. 

"Yes, well, let's leave the stories of my schoolboy antics 
until later," said Teferi, looking at Barrin and coughing 
into his fist. "Jolreal has agreed to do some scouting for us," 
he said, changing the subject. 

"My friends make excellent spies." Jolreal lifted both of 
her arms, and from behind her robes stepped two gray 
wolves. The great beasts moved casually around their 
empress, and then they lay down at her feet, looking like 
tamed hunting dogs but with tremendous fangs. 

The sudden appearance of the wild animals startled 
Barrin, but their passive nature soon calmed his fears. 

151 



Prophecy 

"It seems that you have things well in hand," said the 
old wizard. "With such creatures on our side, we will easily 
fill in the gaps in our intelligence." 

"Yes, Jolreal will be able to report on all the Keldon 
movements on the eastern perimeter, but Northern 
Jamuraa is a very big place, and even with her help, we still 
won't be able to cover all the land that we need," conceded 
Teferi. 

"One of the Tolarian dirigibles is bringing in forty fast 
runners," Rayne interjected. "They aren't numerous 
enough to stiffen the army, but I believe they are the fastest 
light machines on the ground. Perhaps we could use them 
to fill in the gaps." 

"I am a mistress of beasts, Rayne," Jolreal explained. 
"What do I know of maintaining artifacts? No matter how 
cleverly made your machines are, they will break down. 
Who knows how many would be stranded behind the 
Keldon lines?" 

"Well then," Rayne said, crouching down to stroke the 
head of one of the wolves, "I will use them to fill in the 
gaps." She stood and placed her hand on Barrin's arm, 
silencing any objections her overprotective husband could 
raise. "I brought students from the academy as well as 
machines, and I can maintain the runners under any 
conditions," Rayne said with confidence. "You'll have no 
one stranded under my care." 

"But why go yourself?" Jolreal asked quizzically. "Surely 
there is much you can do here?" 

"I will not ask my students to do something I will not," 
Rayne said with intensity. "I have sat in an office too long, 
and it is time to see war's face." 

* * * * * 

152 



Vance Moore 

Jolreal was impressed when she saw the machines that 
Rayne had ferried over to the League. The runners were 
bipedal, with the long legs of a running bird, and like a 
bird, each machine had a set of wings, but these wings 
snapped out of long depressions on each side of the runner 
like giant sabers. A battery of twenty bolts peered forward 
from the machine's torso aimed by the runner's sensors and 
the rider's direction. But to Jolreal, the most impressive 
aspect of the runners was their grace and economy of 
motion. Even fully loaded with a pilot and supplies of every 
sort, they accelerated smoothly, bounding and turning 
sharply. As rapidly as the deadly birds of the north, they 
covered ground in long lopes that outdistanced horses. The 
runners' sensors placed their feet faultlessly, and their speed 
over broken ground was unmatched. Jolreal shared Rayne's 
confidence that outrunning Keldon cavalry was not a 
problem. As long as the scouts weren't encircled by terrain 
or enemy forces, they would be able to escape. 

Rayne felt only a little trepidation as she and her aide, 
Shalanda, readied themselves to ride out with Jolreal's 
scouting party. Barrin exited the building where he and 
Teferi conferenced when in camp, and he approached his 
wife. 

"You are determined to do this?" he asked. 

"Yes, my love," Rayne replied. "You fight where you 
can, and I can do no less." Barrin only grasped her hand 
and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. 

"Come back to me," he whispered. Rayne saw the other 
scouts leaving and followed. 

"I'll see you in three weeks," Rayne called as she 
followed Jolreal into the eastern wilderness. Who knew 
what the Keldons were doing and who was stationed in the 
east? 

153 



Prophecy 

One thing that was not out east was people. Within 
hours of leaving camp, the scouts began running across 
destroyed and abandoned property. It was a depressing look 
at the failure of the League to protect itself, and Rayne 
grew more depressed as they pressed farther east. A week of 
riding and still they saw only the leavings of the enemy. 

"Where are the Keldons?" Rayne asked Jolreal. 

The empress could only shake her head. "The signs all 
point to them drawing back and to the east," Jolreal stated. 
"Perhaps they are massing deep in their own rear area." 

"Then perhaps we should turn north?" Rayne 
opinioned. 

Jolreal shook her head again. "There's a chance that the 
Keldons might be advancing farther east. My other 
scouting parties can cover that area. We can afford to 
check the possibility." 

The land grew rougher, and there were more and more 
trees. The scouts still sped over the landscape, detouring 
around isolated stands of trees that impeded their rapid 
passage. The runners sped around the obstacles and began 
to head north, looking for the enemy. What finally stopped 
them was the fresh sign of Keldon passage. 

* * * * * 

Jolreal followed the tracks slowly, watchful for members 
of the enemy party. On foot, the empress sent her power 
into the forest, trying to taste the passage of warriors and 
their beasts. The forest seemed distant and the flow of its 
power chaotic and confusing, but the signs of the enemy 
were plain enough. Rayne and the other scouts waited at 
the edge of the forest wall. 

"Wait here while I scout ahead," Jolreal had ordered as 
she dismounted. The enemy had entered a path leading 

154 



Vance Moore 

through trees. The path was narrow and almost lost among 
the giant forest trees. The Empress of the Beasts raised her 
hands above her head as she had the day she met Rayne. In 
the distance, along the path Jolreal had found, several sets 
of eyes appeared. She nodded and turned back to the rest of 
the party. "Now hide yourselves out of sight in the tree line 
and be prepared to run if necessary. We'll rendezvous at last 
night's camp if we are separated." 

Jolreal stalked the trail, moving in and out of the forest, 
keeping out of sight as much as possible. Forests and jungles 
had always been her natural home, and she had friends 
here as well as in other places. Only minutes later she came 
across the Keldons. 

It was the smell of the guard's leathers that alerted her. 
The odor of sweat-stained hide wafted from the warrior and 
revealed his presence even though he was hidden from 
sight. Jolreal slowly moved through the trees in an arc until 
she was behind the sentry. The Keldon sat behind several 
bushes in a small depression. Anyone coming up the path 
would have been spotted and the alarm given. Jolreal 
signaled for her animal escort to stay out of sight, noted the 
alertness of the guard, and continued carefully toward the 
main party. Soon she saw them. 

A huge tree had toppled, knocking down several others 
on its way and creating a tangle of logs and smashed brush. 
There were thirty men in the temporary camp. Half seemed 
slaves from their ragged clothes and fawning manner as 
they served the warriors taking their ease. The Keldons sat 
in a series of small groups, conversing as their servants 
packed the camp. 

A hundred feet away, the party's riding beasts milled as 
saddles were slung onto their backs. Horses and mules 
accounted for most of the beasts, but three huge goatlike 
creatures stood to the side. They were six feet at the 

155 



Prophecy 

shoulder and massively muscled. Armed with heavy curled 
horns, the rest of the animals nervously kept their distance. 
She had heard that Keldons in the far north rode such 
beasts. Colos, they were called. A warrior saddled them, 
pushing slaves out of the way as he separated the saddles 
from the rest of the gear. One group of fighters broke up 
and went into the forest. A Keldon passed within a few feet 
of her as she lay with stilled breath. The party was 
preparing to leave, and the sentries were being fetched in. 
She needed to get closer, to hear something. Like a snake 
she slid over the ground, moving slowly nearer to the men 
of the camp. Hidden behind a huge root, she could make 
out the low voices of the seated warriors. Her knowledge of 
Keldon was limited and laboriously acquired, but she could 
follow the talk. 

"This great beast is not here," a voice said forcefully. 
"We are being dragged away from the advance in a futile 
quest for glory." 

"And the statement of the elf prisoners?" another voice 
countered. "These beasts stand guard over ancient ruins. 
Perhaps the ancient heroes lived here millennia ago. Can 
you imagine standing on the streets where our distant 
ancestors lived and fought? Can you imagine the respect 
that would flow to us from the army and Keld? This would 
make us known in every cradle house and in the Witch 
King Council. It is worth missing the first few battles of the 
new offensive." 

The only reply was a snort of disgust. 

Jolreal carefully moved so she could see the speakers, 
but the warriors were standing up and moving toward the 
mounts. They knew something about the timing of the new 
Keldon offensive. She must learn more. Jolreal watched the 
warriors pulling themselves into their saddles. Slaves 
finished packing the last of the gear and threw it onto 

156 



Vance Moore 

mules. A few minutes to let them ride on, and Jolreal 
would go back for Rayne and the others. It was vital that 
they capture one of the Keldons. A breeze blew over her, 
and she shivered slightly. The gap in the trees overhead 
allowed the wind to dip toward the ground. 

Jolreal tensed, her blood beginning to race. There was 
something in the air, some odor. The Keldons and their 
slaves rose in their stirrups, their heads held high like dogs 
smelling the wind. The horses, mules, and colos breathed 
in the air as well. Like stallions to mares in heat, they 
began moving, their riders pulling briefly at the reins but 
soon losing themselves in taking deep breaths. 

Jolreal’s mouth watered as she inhaled the intoxicating 
odor. It took all her will to lie there and not look for the 
source of that delicious smell. She concentrated on her 
mission—find the Keldons and bring back information. But 
the Keldons were riding off, their noses questing for 
something. The colos shouldered their way to the head of 
the party and off the trail into the forest. Warriors and 
slaves jostled after them. Keldons swore as their fawning 
servants ignored their orders to clear a path. Jolreal 
followed the fragrant lure, dragging after the party she spied 
upon. 

Everyone rode into the trees, spreading out as riders and 
beasts ignored everything in their rush. Jolreal was in the 
open now. She ran after them, still trying to use cover as 
her mind fought to overwhelm her instincts. She stumbled 
over roots and depressions, her usually invisible trail 
looking like the passage of a drunkard. The Keldons should 
have outdistanced her but each warrior and servant fought 
to pass by another, and the whole party began to string out. 
Jolreal raced to the side to get a better view. The colos and 
their warriors stopped in front of a soaring tree. The smell 
that had been so overpowering intensified as the warriors 

157 



Prophecy 

dismounted and tore into the trunk. The bark was ripped, 
and mushroomlike growth grew in giant clusters up the 
vertical slashes. The wounds continued high past the heads 
of the mounted men and the warriors drew swords to cut 
more of the spongy flesh free. 

Jolreal's mind went blank, and she moved blindly 
forward. She was some yards away from the milling crowd 
and ignored the land around her. The pit was shallow and 
overgrown, left by a toppled tree, but it was deep enough to 
collect water, and her mouth and nose submerged in 
scummy muck as she fell. Swollen flowers and pitcher 
plants burst as her limbs churned the mud and rotting 
needles. 

Just then she felt a tugging at the back of her robes, and 
her head cleared the water. The plants were acrid, and her 
eyes wept with tears even after she cleared the muck from 
her face. The crushed foliage wept potent chemicals, and 
Jolreal's nose filled, a headache pounding at her temples. A 
dire wolf, one of her escorts, had a firm hold on her 
clothing and was pulling her free of the trap. She was aware 
again and furious at her soiled condition, but a look at the 
Keldons made her glad for her accident. 

The party members were fighting amongst themselves. 
As plentiful as the fungus encrusting the tree was, the greed 
of the men tolerated no sharing. Slaves tried to fight their 
way through to the tree. Knives used for cooking were 
yanked out of saddlebags and pierced living flesh as the 
former servants attacked their masters. 

Jolreal watched the slaughter. Warriors went berserk as 
they turned on the men scrabbling to the tree. One Keldon 
grabbed hold of a slave and began hitting the smaller man 
with bone-breaking blows. Ribs shattered like cheap 
pottery, and then the warrior laughed as the dying man 
stabbed at the arm holding him up with a table knife. 

158 



Vance Moore 

Kettles rattled against the shield of the apparent party 
leader as desperation overwhelmed the slaves' survival 
instincts. The huge whip sergeant swung himself off an 
unmanageably large colos as his bloodthirst overwhelmed 
the unnatural appetite inspired by the tree fungus. He did 
not even draw the sword slung over his back but pulled a 
mace from his saddle. Single blows turned charging 
madmen into corpses. The few surviving slaves crept up to 
the tree under the bellies of horses and picked up chunks of 
fungus from the ground. They ignored the blood and mud 
and scrambled for cover, stuffing their mouths as they hid. 

The warriors mastered the servants, but their mounts 
now fought to eat of the tree. Horses reared and struck at 
the trunk, tearing off more of the fungus. The spongy mass 
went deep, and a horse's head plunged out of sight to eat 
and tear. The colos pushed the animal away with sweeps of 
their curled horns. Horses collapsed as broken bones tore 
internal arteries and organs ruptured. The colos turned 
their heads outward, seeing their riders. Warriors and 
mounts charged into new battle. The Keldon whip sergeant 
swung his mace overhand into the head of his colos, but 
the beast shook off the blow like a bothersome fly, sending 
his rider cartwheeling back. Other warriors darted in from 
the side, plunging long swords deep into colos sides. The 
blades snapped off as the mounts spun, knocking the men 
down. Cries sounded from the animals as they coughed up 
blood. Even dying in agony, they reared and trampled men 
and lesser animals. The living and the dead came apart 
under the thrashing hooves. 

Jolreal felt the pain of the animals tearing at her self-
control. The colos finally fell, one landing on top of a 
crippled slave whose limbs protruded from under the 
massive animal. The legs scrabbled and pushed at the 
ground for minutes as the trapped man slowly suffocated. 

159 



Prophecy 

The animals were nearly all dead and only a few mules 
remained. The heavy freight saddles broke in the fighting, 
and heaving withers tossed them free. A mule spun like a 
dancer, and two rear hooves thudded into the face of a 
warrior. He fell, a limp doll as his neck snapped. The 
expedition leader was back on his feet and charged the 
victorious mule. The Keldon's gray skin was suffused with 
blood, and he grabbed the animal's neck with two swollen 
arms. The beast tried to tear free, but even its strength and 
energetic rolling on the ground could not break the 
implacable grip. The crack of its spine signaled a pause in 
the battle. Only a few warriors and slaves survived. All fell 
to devouring fungus spread over the forest floor, ignoring 
the dead and dying as they filled their mouths. The feasting 
stopped as stomachs began to rebel, and the men sat in a 
nauseous stupor. 

Jolreal mastered herself. The odor of the crushed 
flowers and pods filled the little depression. The fighting 
appeared to be over as the men groaned and rolled, their 
eyes glassy and unseeing. She began to get out of the water 
and froze. There, at the edge of the battlefield, a massive 
form gripped the corpse of a horse and whisked it out of 
sight. Jolreal put it all together. The lure of the fungus, the 
self-destruction of the Keldon party, the gargantuan 
beast—this place was a thresher beast trap, and it had 
caught a full load. 

* * * * * 

The thresher beast worked hard. The carrion under the 
tree was far more plentiful than ever before. Some of the 
prey was far bigger than the animals it usually found. The 
food would have to be buried fast or other scavengers 
would gather. The monster dug deep pits in minutes, 

160 



Vance Moore 

tearing through thick tree roots to make the cache large 
enough. With each pit completed, it went and gathered 
more meat to store. Carrying the giant colos corpse was 
hard, and its neck muscles ached. It paused to rest, rubbing 
its back and neck against a tree. A new lure needed to be 
created, and the excitement of the huge kill tickled at the 
poison sacks behind its claws. It loped toward a huge tree 
several hundred yards away from the lure. 

The thresher beast reared and set its claws into the 
thick bark. Several swipes were necessary to tear through a 
foot of bark to the inner wood. Sap oozed out as the 
thresher beast gouged out a fifteen-foot strip. The poison in 
its claws was driven into the wood and bark with every 
slash. The creature's venom and the tree sap would enable 
a certain fungus to grow, and within a year a new lure 
would be calling animals to their doom. 

The thresher beast felt spent and sleepy. Perhaps the 
carrion could wait on a nap. But a faint odor wafted 
between the trees, banishing its tiredness. The scent of 
another thresher beast floated in the air. The bloody 
corpses were already attracting attention and must be 
buried for storage. The creature grew angrier as the scent of 
the rival slowly grew stronger. The prey might have killed 
themselves, but the monster would still have to fight for its 
meal. 

* * * * * 

Rayne watched the trail intently for Jolreal’s return. 
Her aide Shalanda nervously opened and checked her 
saddlebags, muttering as she took inventory yet again. The 
other Kipamu League scout, Boyle, appeared quite at ease. 
The tall, lanky man sat loose in the saddle of his runner. 
His black-haired head turned slowly, showing a tanned and 

161 



Prophecy 

weathered face to the world. Only his blue eyes showed 
worry, peering rapidly over the landscape in direct 
contradiction to his indolent pose. He straightened 
suddenly. Rayne turned her attention back to the trail, and 
there was Jolreal coming at a run. She was soaking wet and 
great masses of vegetation hung around her shoulders and 
dragged on the ground behind her. 

Rayne, Boyle, and Shalanda sent their machines toward 
Jolreal. 

"How close are the Keldons?" Rayne demanded, 
swinging her mount to cover the forest with its bolt 
launchers. 

"The Keldons aren't coming," Jolreal gasped, "but they 
are close by, and we need to reach them now." The odor of 
the plants Jolreal carried suddenly impressed itself on 
Rayne and the others. 

"What are you carrying?" Shalanda gasped. The rest of 
the League scouts arrived, and Jolreal quickly told of the 
fight she had witnessed and the thresher beast's trap. 

"It fills the mind and renders the victim unable to think 
clearly," Jolreal explained. "These plants fight off the 
effects, so I gathered as much as I could. Everyone must 
wear some when we get to the Keldons." Even as she spoke 
she made garlands and handed them out. 

"I will hold the thresher beast off by magic as the rest of 
you round up prisoners," Jolreal ordered. "Some of the 
warriors know details about the Keldons' plans for an 
offensive strike, and we need to capture one for 
interrogation. The men should be unconscious, but hold 
your launchers ready, just in case." The scouts were all 
equipped with weapons holding web rounds for the capture 
of prisoners. 

Jolreal walked back into the treeline where a dire wolf 
waited for her. She leaped to the creature's back and began 

162 



Vance Moore 

heading back down the trail. The League scouts donned 
their garlands, and a fresh wave of acrid stench flowed. 

"You must be joking," Boyle said, jerking his head. 
More vegetable pods ruptured and soaked into his clothes. 

"Madness would be even less funny," Jolreal said and 
flipped another garland over her head. "I saw about twelve 
people left alive around the tree, six warriors and six slaves. 
Hopefully the thresher beast hasn't touched them yet, 
being a carrion feeder." 

"How will we know which ones have information about 
the offensive?" Rayne asked as Jolreal started riding. 

"Look for the one seven-feet tall," was the shouted 
response. 

Rayne and the others rode up the path and reached the 
turnoff to the thresher beast's trap. The delicious smell 
Jolreal had described was smothered by the garlands, and 
except for watering eyes, Rayne felt totally in control. 
Jolreal stepped clear of the dire wolf and gathered herself, 
waving the rest of the party ahead as she began her spell. 

The warriors and slaves under the tree were awake and 
watching each other. The League charge took them by 
surprise. 

The men swung themselves up and grasped their 
weapons, but five launchers fired before they could do any 
more. Nets sailed out and spread wide, wrapping armed 
warriors in metallic strands that stuck to flesh and clothing. 
The glues surrounding the wire cables set quickly, and each 
movement tightened the restrictive cocoon. The free 
warrior and the six slaves closed in on the netted prisoners 
like rabid dogs. 

"Try to keep them off!" yelled Boyle as he rode at the 
men. The runner stopped over a prisoner and flashed his 
wing blades in and out of their housing to cow the 
madmen. They only snarled and closed on another 

163 



Prophecy 

immobilized victim. Clenched fists raised knives as they fell 
in a stabbing frenzy over the warriors. 

Rayne webbed the largest warrior when the attack first 
began. A screaming Keldon closed on her prisoner, and she 
bolted the berserker three times. The heavy projectiles left 
tunnels as they blew through the attacker's chest, and a 
bloody corpse fell onto Rayne's capture. 

"Somebody help me!" Boyle screamed. He had sent his 
runner toward the crazed slaves and was now trapped. His 
runner stepped on a dead mule, driving its foot into a 
gaping wound. The machine dragged the thousand-pound 
animal around like a man with a stubborn terrier. Boyle 
cursed as the jolting destroyed his ability to control the 
machine. The six crazed slaves stopped cutting at a webbed 
corpse and swarmed on Boyle. The League scout jumped 
from his mired machine to get some fighting room. Rayne 
grabbed for her reloads and glanced down to ram another 
web round into her launcher. 

Two of the other League scouts dived from their 
machines in an attempt to save Boyle. The runners stood 
impotent, their bolts deadly but unable to distinguish 
between Boyle and the slaves. 

Boyle's rescuers used the flats of their swords at first, 
still thinking of the slaves as victims. A crazed slave buried 
a pickax in the throat of a League scout. The rest of the 
Kipamu League soldiers now used the edges of their swords 
in an attempt to save their own lives. Blood poured from 
the wounds they inflicted, but the injuries were ignored as 
their opponents showed their teeth and closed with scouts. 
Boyle lost his sword as he buried it in a man's side. 

Two slaves fell on the dying man with the pickax 
wound in his larynx. Shalanda and Rayne fired as one and 
webbed the three into one screaming, cursing mass. Like 
fighting animals in a sack, they went at each other with 

164 



Vance Moore 

teeth and screams until both the survivors were trapped at 
opposite sides of the corpse. 

Rayne drove her machine forward. The academy 
chancellor felt nothing but rage for the death of the scout, 
and she triggered her runner's wings, closing with the two 
slaves. Rayne left a trail of blood and lopped off flesh before 
her machine crushed the bodies under its metal feet. 

Only a screaming man with a Keldon's sword remained 
free, and Rayne emptied her runner's bolts into him. The 
dead man's hand still gripped the bloody weapon when she 
was through, but the arm was no longer attached to a body. 
Rayne shuddered as she looked at the corpse and then 
twisted her head to look at what remained. Jolreal still 
stood off to the side, locked in a trance. Rayne stepped 
down from her runner. 

"Boyle, are you all right?" asked Rayne. The ground was 
soaked with blood, and she stepped carefully. Many of the 
corpses were gone, and Rayne wondered how Jolreal was 
doing with the thresher beast. She steered clear of the 
webbed captives. Out of the five warriors webbed, only 
three survived. Two were actually stuck to the tree and the 
fungus that had doomed the Keldon party in the first place. 
Boyle was kneeling on the ground, a strip of his shirt cut 
free and pressed against a wound. 

"I'm cut, but I'll live." He tried to smile, but Rayne 
could see a jolt of fresh pain hit. The adrenaline was used 
up, and the pain that fear and rage had buried was 
becoming more and more potent. 

Shalanda hurried forward on foot to help with the 
wounded. Rayne looked at the Keldon leader. Had it been 
worth it? She walked back to her machine. They needed to 
secure the prisoners and start back for the base camp. 
Rayne started her machine toward Jolreal, but the sorceress 

165 



Prophecy 

suddenly fell in a seizure, her body jumping and twisting on 
the ground as her muscles contracted out of control. 

The monster sprang to attack as Rayne shouted for 
Shalanda and her healing hands. It came around the tree 
and slammed into Rayne's machine. The beast was 
massively muscled with long legs. Its head was roughly 
canine in build but was twice the size of a great bear's. Its 
body was tremendous and bulbous and belied its great 
speed, and its skin was tight and looked to split as it roared. 

"Somebody kill that thing!" Rayne shouted as she 
jumped free from her machine. The monster pushed the 
runner over and gripped the mechanical legs. It ripped a 
limb loose and howled with victory. Rayne ran for a 
riderless runner as the thresher beast ripped more parts 
from its metal victim. It must have tired of the metallic 
taste because it pursued her with leaping bounds. Then it 
spotted Boyle running for his trapped craft and followed 
him. He jumped for his runner and its weapons and started 
to swing himself aboard. 

"Mother!" he screamed as the thresher beast's claws 
hooked into his calf. The muscle stripped away, and his 
other leg broke as his body was pulled free of the saddle. 
Boyle was face down but scrambling, his eyes wide and 
teeth clenched. The monster had run past him, and it 
scrapped its claws clean of Boyle's flesh as it turned to 
continue the attack. 

Boyle was in the midst of the dead Keldon warriors, and 
he drew a sword from one of the fallen men. Rayne could 
see him sitting up and waving it in defiance as she got 
aboard an abandoned machine. Rayne laid the sights on 
the thresher beast, but the creature was upon Boyle again. 
The scout swung his newly acquired weapon. The sword 
sheared into a claw and a spray of blood and poison coated 
one side of his face. 

166 



Vance Moore 

Boyle looked at Rayne. "Shoot!" he screamed and then 
fell silent as the thresher beast continued its attack. Rayne 
fired a stream of bolts and felt the world drop away as 
Boyle's body took several hits. The thresher beast howled 
again. The giant beast flung itself to the side as Rayne's 
bolts spent themselves on a pile of slave and Keldon 
corpses. Its eyes locked on Rayne. Blood poured from 
wounds in its chest and front legs. The beast walked stiff 
legged, its rage obvious with every faltering move. Rayne 
knew she could outrun it, but she wanted it to die and 
readied herself to attack with the runner's wings. 

A growing howl turned her attention from the monster 
in front of her. Another thresher beast stood over the dead 
slaves. The new thresher beast was smaller than the 
wounded beast advancing on Rayne, but it still out-massed 
a good-sized horse. It ignored the corpses in front of it and 
advanced slowly on the wounded monster. The bloody 
monster put its back to a tree and readied itself for battle. It 
glanced toward Rayne as if to promise a reckoning. 

Rayne backed her machine toward Jolreal. Shalanda 
and the other scout were at their machines but made no 
move to use the bolt casters. Rayne wondered if they had 
enough bolts to kill the monsters. She looked quickly at 
Jolreal, The sorceress was beginning to tremble once again, 
and Rayne knew that soon there would be two monsters 
attacking the scouts. But then she saw her aide tense as she 
gathered power. 

Shalanda was a healer, but it was destruction that she 
called up. Her head snapped back and blood poured from 
her nose. Rayne could hear a roar arcing through the sky, 
then Shalanda's wrath fell. The strike brushed against the 
tree trunk as it hammered the ground. A hail of splinters 
pierced everyone in the area. Rayne stared in shock at the 
chunk of wood through her side. 

167 



Prophecy 

The monsters were alive, though spears of heartwood 
pierce both their hides. Jolreal lay on the ground, a victim 
of strain or Shalanda's attack. The monsters turned toward 
Rayne, and the scholar knew that her party would die as a 
great crack of sound broke her concentration and she 
looked up. 

Her eyes picked up a twig falling gently to the ground. 
The twig grew and grew, expanding to huge dimensions. It 
was a log, several feet thick, and it slammed into the two 
thresher beasts, ending the battle in a wave of gore. 

* * * * * 

It was hours before Rayne and the others could leave. 
Shalanda aided Jolreal first at Rayne's insistence. The 
waves of healing energy from Shalanda's hand washed 
through the sorceress's body, and soon Jolreal was awake 
and talking. Rayne waited patiently for her aide to begin 
work on her wounds but pressed Jolreal for an explanation 
of the thresher beast's attack. 

"I don't know," Jolreal stammered as she took in the 
blood and corpses, her eyes lingering longest on Boyle's 
body. "I tried to command the creatures, but when I tried 
to enfold it in the spirit of the forest, I was pushed away. 
Not only did the thresher beast resist, but also the land 
itself was distant. I could not draw power, and the thresher 
beast would not stop fighting. My body and mind stumbled 
under attack." She took a deep breath. "Perhaps there is a 
buried city or ancient Keldon battlefield nearby— 
something that poisons the land and drained my strength. 

"After I lost the first monster, I tried to call up 
something to fight the first. The other thresher beast was 
nearby, and I could command it with some difficulty." 
Jolreal sighed. "I knew my command of this one was weak, 

168 



Vance Moore 

but it was close by and already a danger to us. I just hoped 
to use it against the first beast." Shalanda returned from her 
examination of the prisoners and the other scouts. 

"Only four of us remain, and the big Keldon webbed to 
the dead one survived. I collected Boyle and our other 
scout. There is a deep depression off to the side where we 
can bury them. What do we do now?" Shalanda asked. 

Jolreal still seemed dazed, and Rayne answered after a 
few seconds' pause, "We'll bury our people, keep our 
prisoner tied and doped up, and ride for home." 

* * * * * 

The scouts rode for a week back toward camp. The 
prisoner said nothing, being drugged and tied upright to a 
pole 

Rayne rigged on a runner. The smooth stride of the 
runner and the last of their medical supplies kept him 
reasonably compliant. Perhaps it was the deaths of their 
comrades, but even the successful capture of the Keldon 
officer couldn't raise the scouts' spirits. Jolreal and 
Shalanda felt particularly listless, and guard duty at night 
was an ordeal since a watch had to be kept on the prisoner 
at all times. Even the land seemed to reflect the mood, as 
Rayne noticed patches of blight in the grass and trees. 

"Is that normal?" Rayne asked, pointing to withered 
vegetation along a ridgeline. 

"I'm not sure what normal is anymore," Jolreal said 
tiredly. "I failed to control a beast of the forest. Perhaps it 
was the effects of some ancient magic or the thresher 
beast's lure, but I couldn't grasp it. Now everything feels 
off, as if a piece of that monster was caught in my head." 

169 



Prophecy 

"I feel different too," Shalanda joined in. "I cast my 
power out to kill instead of heal. Now the world seems ... 
sour somehow." 

That two magic users should feel a change was 
worrisome, Rayne thought. Perhaps this wrongness was 
something that needed to be investigated. If only they 
weren't burdened by their prisoner. 

At last the party reached the base camp, and Rayne felt 
relief as the Keldon was put in a proper stockade and she 
could get a full night's sleep. The next morning saw her 
and Shalanda inside the camp headquarters. They would 
discover what they had brought back to the League. 

The building was dark and cramped. Rayne and the 
others seated themselves to the side. The room reminded 
the scholar of a courtroom, and Rayne wondered if she 
should oversee the interrogation. 

Camp Commander Priget inspired no confidence in the 
scholar. Small and fat, he squinted from behind a heavy 
desk. He was pale, and Rayne wondered if Priget ever went 
outside. The night before he had listened to Jolreal giving 
her account of the scouting expedition in obvious disbelief. 
Only the sight of the drugged warrior outside his office had 
silenced his snorts of incredulity. The commander had 
taken the prisoner, and Jolreal had been too exhausted to 
argue. 

Priget sat on a dais on one side of the room, flags and 
apparent battle trophies ranked behind him. A low table 
rested on the floor. On it were instruments of torture. 
Thumbscrews, skewers, and knives lay arrayed. Next to it 
sat an unlit camp stove with branding irons leaning against 
its side. 

The Keldon warrior was herded into the room like an 
animal. Four men with poles controlled rope nooses over 
the prisoner's neck. The chair they chained him in was 

170 



Vance Moore 

short, and his knees rose nearly to his chest. The guards 
dropped their poles and withdrew. 

"You are called to explain your crimes," Priget 
announced. "Any attempt to deceive this court will be 
punished." The commander gestured to the tools of pain. 
Rayne hoped that the prisoner was fluent in the languages 
of the League, because Priget hadn't thought to use an 
interpreter. 

"I am Couric, war leader and blood letter." The warrior 
paused to spit on the floor. "You mean nothing to me." 

"Such behavior will result in punishment," Priget 
warned, waving a sergeant to stand by the table. 

"You haven't even heated the irons," Couric said with 
contempt. "The League knows nothing of terror." He 
ignored Priget and turned his head to glare at the rest of 
the room. "You are weak, and we will sweep over your 
armies. Even now our forces march into position to start 
the final attack. 

"We will pour from the north, and your men shall fall 
under our swords. Our barges will bull their way through 
your flimsy cities. The screams of your fallen comrades will 
announce our coming. We will own you all." The Keldon's 
voice filled the room, overriding Priget's weak tenor. 

"The lands of our ancestors will be ours again. We shall 
walk in the footsteps of the Heroes and kick aside the trash 
that has settled the land." Couric spit again, the saliva 
carrying to the shoes of a guard. 

"You all will be whipped and beaten into service. Your 
women," Couric jutted his chin to Rayne and her aide, 
"will go into the cradle houses and bear warriors for the 
greater glory of Keld!" His body heaved with each shout, 
and the chains scraped against the wood of the chair. 

"Our ships will carry a river of captives to the north, 
and the League will cease to be anything but a story 

171 



Prophecy 

whispered by slaves!" Couric bellowed. The big Keldon 
stared at Priget with eyes full of hatred and disgust. "The 
winds of Twilight are upon us. The witch kings will ascend 
from the grave, and all of you will be judged by Keldon 
steel." 

"Silence him," Priget shouted, and the sergeant moved 
toward Couric, a bludgeon held high to shut off the torrent 
of words. 

Couric strained, the chains pulling against the structure 
of the chair, and he began shouting words from memory. 

"The first wind of ascension is Forger, burning away 
impurity," he growled. A burst of flame exploded below the 
prisoner, and the arms and legs separated from the chair. 
Couric stood free, glowering at the sergeant, his arms still 
manacled to scraps of charred wood that used to be the 
arms of the chair. The angry Keldon warrior looked around 
the room, challenging the guards and magic users with his 
eyes. The guards hesitated at first, taking the Keldon's 
measure, then charged him en masse. 

"The second wind of ascension is Reaver, slaying the 
unworthy." Couric was heavily muscled, and the Keldon 
scythed down the charging men with the broken wood still 
attached to his arms. 

More guards poured into the room, trying to subdue the 
prisoner, but Couric surged back, ripping the handles from 
several poles at once. 

"The third wind of ascension is Eliminator, clearing 
Keld's path to victory." One pole was in the Keldon's hand, 
and he stabbed it at the faces of the circling guards. Teeth 
and bones broke, and the victims fell to the floor, 
constricting the room even more as the captured warrior 
moved toward the door. 

172 



Vance Moore 

"Somebody get a webcaster!" Rayne called, and she 
moved closer to Priget, hoping to use his huge desk as 
cover. 

Shalanda, who was nearer that door than Rayne, forced 
her way through the stream of oncoming guards to find 
something she could use to subdue the Keldon. 

Couric was hemmed in, but he was holding his own and 
making ground. The dead bodies of the first round of guards 
littered the floor, and while the new soldiers carried 
stabbing spears, they were wary of the massive Keldon, not 
wanting to be another of his victims. 

"Kill him!" Priget ordered. The commander was trapped 
but was ready to hide beneath the heavy desk if fighting 
moved any closer. 

Couric gasped as a blade punctured his side. He struck 
at the attacker, but the League soldier retreated into the 
ring of spears. Priget rose from behind the desk to watch his 
troops dispatch the Keldon officer. Rayne stood beside him, 
feeling powerless in the interrogation room with no 
weapons. 

"The fourth wind of ascension is Anointer, defying the 
worthy," the Keldon bellowed, and spinning to face the 
camp commander and the Tolarian scholar, the mammoth 
warrior threw himself at the dais. Priget retreated toward 
the wall. Couric shouted at his retreating face, ignoring 
everything in the room now except the man who had given 
his death order and the woman who had captured him. 

Shalanda rushed through the door, a blue-robed figure 
in tow. 

"The fifth wind of ascension is Exalter, fulfilling Keld's 
destiny." The warrior raised his hands for a mighty blow. 

Spears sank into Couric's back, and the blood coated 
his clothes. He slammed into the heavy desk, and the bolts 
securing it to the dais sheared under his weight. Blinding 

173 



Prophecy 

blue-white energy arced from the doorframe toward the 
desk and the charging warrior. The Keldon seemed to slow 
in mid-attack, his cries of rage sounding deeper as his words 
stretched out. Another blast of arcane light burst from the 
blue-robed figure—this one targeted at Rayne. 

Shalanda had returned with Barrin, and the ancient 
wizard now acted to save his wife from being crushed by the 
rampaging Keldon. The spell wrapped itself around her 
frame like a giant gloved hand, and it pulled her away from 
the sliding desk. Barrin's first casting had given him the 
time to save Rayne's life, but the camp commander wasn't 
so lucky. Hundreds of pounds of hardwood and Keldon 
forced Priget against the paneled wall. The commander was 
pinned at the chest, and Rayne could hear bones breaking, 
tearing into Priget's internal organs. Couric sprawled over 
the desk, bled out and nearly dead as he looked into the 
eyes of the crushed commander. 

"Even a chained Keldon can kill one such as you," 

Couric whispered as angry soldiers stabbed him again 
and again with spears. The Keldon warrior died smiling 
under the dead gaze of his final victim. 

174 



Vance Moore 

Chapter 11 

The afternoon sun beat down as Barrin and Yarbo flew 
over the League army camp. The sun glinted from the 
arrays of war machines. Technicians labored over their 
charges, looking more insectlike from the height than the 
weapons they serviced. Cavalry and corrals of horses lay at 
the ends of the camps with formations of infantry 
conducting maneuvers in open fields. The combined forces 
of Kinymu and Arsenal City had gathered to drive the 
invaders back, and Barrin hoped it would be enough. Yarbo 
flared his craft's wings, and the ornithopter began a slow 
circling descent to the landing circle and a waiting 
committee. Soldiers came to attention as the craft settled, 
and Barrin stepped outside. For the first time since coming 
to Jamuraa, Barrin could not smell the sea. 

An officer stepped forward. He was a very large 
Jamuraan man, as big as many of the Keldons Barrin had 
seen, but this man's features were more majestic and 
dignified—not as harsh or severe as those of the invaders. 
He wore an animal hide around his waist that covered him 
from mid-belly to toes, and his exposed upper body and 
face were swathed in a white chalky substance— 
presumably war paint. His hair was hidden beneath a great 
helm, but it was his green eyes that caught Barrin's 
attention. They seemed to measure everything, and the 
slight tension in the officer's figure signaled a readiness for 
action. This was the sort of officer who led his troops from 
the front lines. 

175 



Prophecy 

"I am General Mageta, Lord Barrin. My enemies call me 
the Lion for my fierceness in battle. I will be your guide if 
you wish to view the army before your consultations with 
the war council." 

"Let's start with the combat troops, General," Barrin 
said and started walking toward the groups of war machines 
that he had seen from the air. Mageta hurried to catch up 
as Barrin departed for the tour. The general gamely began 
describing the war machines as Barrin walked closer to 
their ranks. 

"All League war machines have been constructed for 
decades at Arsenal City. The machines here are found 
throughout the League and have been standardized for 
many years. Reinforcements will therefore fold right into 
the formations we see." Mageta spoke with pride, but 
Barrin wondered if the system he described hadn't stifled 
advancement. 

"These are called steel ants." The general gestured to 
groups of small war machines being serviced by 
technicians. 

Each machine was waist high with six legs. The head 
was oversized, and Barrin thought it crowded with sensors 
and a set of bladed mandibles and saws. "They are the 
smallest war machines that the League fields. They are 
quite fast, and when directed they close and dismember the 
enemy." 

"Do they carry anything with a longer bite?" Barrin 
asked. 

"That is something we are particularly proud of," 
Mageta said, pointing to the oversized head. "A modular 
weapon bay sits inside that can take three bolts or a light 
war rocket. The modular weapons bay design is included in 
all our machines, though you can't trade modules between 
classes." 

176 



Vance Moore 

"They are limited, but they are fast, cheap, and rugged 
for their size. The Keldons fighting them hand to hand will 
be very impressed when these machines charge their lines," 
the general maintained stoutly. "If it's heavier machines 
you want, then perhaps the crabs will do." 

Mageta quickly led Barrin past the tents of the 
mechanics to another group of war machines. These were 
large, nearly topping six feet. They were slightly wider than 
they were long and stood crablike on six legs. Two huge 
jointed arms were held high, but instead of claws, each arm 
ended in a massive metal bludgeon. 

"These are the center of the battle," the general said. 
"The arms can swing down amazingly fast, and a blow can 
topple small trees. Lest you think these also lack a long-
range bite, the wide body enables us to have three double-
sized weapons bays. A module can take six bolts, two 
rockets, or an oversized web round. A force charging them 
would dissolve in quick order." 

"Very impressive," said Barrin. "But I notice that there 
are far more steel ants than these crabs. They also appear to 
be less mobile than their smaller cousins. How fast do they 
travel?" He was certainly more impressed by these than the 
steel ants, but he was wondering how the different types of 
machines would work together, 

"I confess they are somewhat slow and therefore usually 
anchor the center of an attack. But we are discussing 
barbarians after all. Perhaps they have overpowered eastern 
outposts, but I doubt they'll offer much of a challenge to 
two city armies." Mageta was speaking with pride, but 
Barrin suspected it was ignorance. 

"We only have a few examples of the last type of war 
machine," Mageta confessed. "It was originally developed 
to fight in closer quarters and smaller groups than the ants 
or crabs." He pointed to a set of twenty machines. They 

177 



Prophecy 

stood nearly seven feet tall and were painted in an array of 
bright, angry colors. "The mantis is somewhat of a 
compromise beast. Its head shares several common systems 
with the ant and will take the same weapons modules. The 
body is narrower and faster than the crab but can carry only 
one double-size module to the crab's three." Mageta finally 
pointed to the massive jointed arms that gave the mantis 
its name. "Each of the interior sides are razor sharp, and if a 
blow does not dismember the target, it's hauled up to the 
cutting jaws of the head." Barrin liked the statement the 
mantises made in their bright color schemes and detailing. 
The artwork showed pride and perhaps bravado that had a 
place on the battlefield. 

"How are the machines usually employed?" Barrin 
asked. "Can they act on their own without constant 
supervision? I have never seen them unaccompanied in 
battle." 

"They are directed against the enemy and then attack 
until the enemy forces are disabled," Mageta explained. 

"What do you mean by disabled?" Barrin responded. 

"You must understand that for years in Northern 
Jamuraa wars were waged by machines fighting machines. 
A machine is disabled if it's smashed, dismembered, or 
gutted by an attack. The Keldons will not take more 
damage than that, I trust." 

Barrin only grunted. "And what about the human 
troops? May I see them next?" Barrin was satisfied with his 
preliminary look at the war machines, but how the human 
troops looked would be more important. The production of 
war machines was limited due to the shortage of 
powerstones. The longer the war lasted, the more human 
troops would be serving in the field, if for no other reason 
than to allow dispersed war machines to be amassed on 
active fronts. 

178 



Vance Moore 

"You saw the human troops—the mechanics and 
technicians behind the crabs," Mageta said with a straight 
face. 

"I mean the combat troops, the ones who will actually 
be fighting on the line of battle." 

Mageta's long silence told Barrin that he wouldn't like 
the answer. 

* * * * * 

"You mean there are no combat troops here 
whatsoever?" Yarbo asked incredulously that night. "Surely 
there must be in two cities of this size." 

"Yes, they have soldiers, but they serve as watchmen, 
ceremonial guards, and maintenance workers on the city 
defenses," Barrin explained. "Infantry, cavalry, and people 
trained to fight as an army are far out on the frontier. Close 
to the cities, the war machines have taken over the combat 
role as fighting was ritualized and limited. Why maintain a 
large army when you buy war machines that will last for 
decades, require only a small force of technicians, and don't 
draw wages?" 

"But they've had Keldons raiding the League for years 
now," Yarbo replied. "And if they have no soldiers, who are 
all those people out in the fields outside the city walls? We 
saw infantry and cavalry!" 

"Those are new recruits," Barrin said shortly. "Most of 
them without any armor except what they could scrounge 
from an attic, and perhaps they carry an old spear or sword. 
If I had a couple of blimps or dirigibles for cargo, I'd haul a 
load of League launchers here." Barrin waved his hand 
toward the camp. "Maybe one out of ten of the men have a 
launcher." 

179 



Prophecy 

"The coastal cities have fought off raids," Yarbo argued. 
"It must be possible for city militias to fight effectively." 

"They were marines, not militias that fought on the 
coast, and usually the Jamuraans had greater numbers," 
Barrin said tiredly as he thought about what tomorrow 
might bring. "We better pray that my guide was right and 
their machines kill the Keldons, because I don't see any 
way they can use the rest of the army." 

* * * * * 

Morning brought some good news. Teferi diverted a 
pair of Kashan blimps to help with reconnaissance. The 
aircraft observed the Keldon camp and perhaps sixty land 
barges altogether. The estimate of the approaching army 
was under four thousand, an indeterminate number of them 
slaves. While Barrin did not think the number meant an 
easy fight, he believed the numbers pointed to a League 
victory. As the Keldons broke camp, he heard distress calls 
from the scouting blimps. "Evasive action!" resounded 
through the communications room. Barrin waited, opening 
his senses for any other messages. Then one of the craft 
reported. 

"Tell Barrin we're sorry, but he'll get no more close 
views of the enemy. They have skipping fire launchers 
down there. They just took out the Moonrise. Unless a 
Mushan with long-range glide bombs gets diverted up here, 
we'll keep our distance from any and all barges." Barrin 
knew the crew was all volunteers, but he still cursed and 
regretted their deaths. 

"I'll fly," said Barrin. "I need to see the enemy, get a feel 
for what they might throw. I wish the army had more 
experience in large scale maneuvers." A general who had 

180 



Vance Moore 

been listening to the blimp reports spoke candidly as Barrin 
called for Yarbo to ready the ornithopter. 

"Our soldiers are untrained, ill-armed, and afraid," the 
officer said. "But chances are very high that we can beat 
the Keldons during this particular battle. If we avoid battle, 
it would be more corrosive to morale and feed the Keldon 
legend of invincibility. Better to take casualties in 
achieving the victory and focus on training later." 

Barrin agreed with the sentiments but thought the 
acceptance, even eagerness, for fatalities repugnant after 
the losses already seen. A vision of Urza floated before him. 
The ruthlessness that Barrin so admonished in the 
planeswalker was a quality he would have to cultivate as 
the war continued. 

Barrin and Yarbo took off as the League army began to 
march. Barrin could see Tolarian runners fanning out along 
the axis of the attack. Yarbo took the craft toward the last 
Keldon position. 

"Be sure everything is secured," the pilot said to Barrin. 
"There may be some sudden maneuvering." 

The wings beat faster, and the craft accelerated toward 
the Keldon army. Barrin opened his mind and tasted the air 
over the camp. The sky was filled with traces of magic, and 
the wizard could feel the Keldon magic users below. The 
weapons and concentrations of power were coals burning 
on the plain. Then it was as if naphtha was thrown in a 
furnace as arcs of fire sprang into the sky. The pilot sent 
the ornithopter racing under the balls and streamers of 
flame. Barrin gripped his seat while the machine screamed 
in a dive that sent them whipping over the warriors below. 
The craft tilted as Yarbo sent it in a new direction. Barrin 
looked down on the camp. The launchers were firing. The 
weapons were mounted on smaller versions of the Keldon 
land barges. The major difference between these and the 

181 



Prophecy 

ones the old wizard had already seen was that the heavy 
upper wooden shell was completely removed to 
accommodate the launchers. 

Barrin could feel a pulse of power, and he watched a 
ball of sulfurous flame launched straight at them. Only 
Yarbo's dropping turn generated a miss. Barrin heard his 
bones creak as the pilot snapped his wings level and began 
climbing beyond the camp. 

"We need to make another pass," the wizard 
announced. "I thought I felt something new when we flew 
over." The pilot turned the ship and sent it racing toward 
the ground. 

"I hope you find what you need this time, because I'm 
not doing this again," Yarbo hissed. 

The ornithopter dodged close to the ground to avoid 
fire while Barrin sent his senses out once more. The wizard 
massed power for attack as the ornithopter came closer to 
the Keldon army. Their craft was so low that Barrin feared 
a collision with the warriors and slaves scrambling for 
cover. The ancient magic user could feel stores of energy 
quiescent in the land barges—not hot like the magic that 
he had detected before. Waves of fire and attack spells 
prevented Barrin from looking further. 

Keldon air defense crews ignored the danger of creating 
casualties and fired on Barrin's craft. Streams of flame dug 
into the ground and incinerated warriors in the Keldon 
camp as anti-air fire missed. Barrin directed a slap of power 
against a fire barge racing for a better position. The enemy 
craft exploded in flame, and the ornithopter jinked around 
the rising cloud of flame and smoke, pulling for altitude 
behind the screen of fiery destruction. Streamers still filled 
the air, but the pilot let out a long breath of relief as the 
range opened and the ornithopter sped away from the 
camp. 

182 



Vance Moore 

"I hope you got what you needed," Yarbo said as he rose 
to a high altitude. 

"There is definitely something in those barges," Barrin 
replied distractedly. "It's more than the magic propelling 
them. There is some surprise cargo carried here for battle." 

"Well you're about to find out," said the pilot. "The 
League is attacking." 

The Keldons were near the bottom of a long rise and 
pulled back a hundred yards to deploy. Barrin could see the 
League massing its forces on the lip of the rise. War 
machines lined up, settling into place like restive horses at 
the start of a race. The infantry formed behind. Spears 
glinted as squares of soldiers prepared to kill or die. The 
cavalry was two irregular masses on the wings of the force. 

"Don't attack now!" Barrin shouted, his voice 
reverberating in the cabin. Below him the first wave of 
League machines poured into battle. 

The steel ants raced down the slope, quickly pulling 
ahead of the other machines and men. Barrin could see the 
Keldon lines contracting, tensing like a spring, then a flare 
of energy burst from the Keldon anti-air unit. It was a clear 
shot over the lines, hitting the face of the rise. War 
machines were smashed as they advanced down to the 
enemy warriors. Fire barges broke up the League units, and 
the ants hit the fighters awaiting them in disorganized 
driblets. The bludgeoning crabs, the center of the attack, 
started down the rise with infantry close behind. The fire 
barges would boot them all over the landscape. Barrin's 
head threatened to explode as he raised power over the 
hostile enemy force. A continuous bolt of lightning flashed 
from the ornithopter to the ground. 

"Go slower," Barrin said through tensed lips, and the 
pilot cut speed to almost a standstill. 

183 



Prophecy 

The lightning advanced at a brisk walk, leaving a 
narrow trail of fused soil. The arc bumped into a fire barge 
and played over the vehicle for long seconds as slaves and 
mages threw themselves onto the ground and away from 
pending disaster. The vehicle did not explode, but fires 
broke out and engulfed it, roasting the crew who were too 
slow to abandon their charge. Some fire barges surged into 
motion to escape the lightning's path. Others ceased firing 
on the League army and concentrated on Barrin. The pilot 
swooped like an escaping thrush, and Barrin let loose a 
second stream of lightning on a fire barge. The Keldons 
cooked and died, and the craft turned circles with the 
helmsman steaming on the deck. 

The ants bunched up against Keldon warriors, and 
Barrin threw his senses over the fight. The men fighting 
the machines were large, garbed in heavy leather and 
swinging swords that bit into their metal opponents. Blood 
showed on steel mandibles, but more and more machines 
went down. The Keldons attacked joints, and those with 
axes and clubs pounded machines to pieces. 

The second wave of League forces arrived at the base of 
the rise. Crabs advanced with infantry close behind. Enemy 
warriors started breaking from the lines for the land barges 
in the rear. Barrin dared hoped they were running, but only 
a thin stream of men withdrew from the formations. For 
each warrior that entered the barges, several armored 
figures came out. Barrin could feel a swelling of magic 
power as the Keldon army grew larger and larger. The 
swords and axes lifted against the League were wielded not 
by men but by simulations of warriors. Manikins—hollow 
warriors— pulsed with energy that mimicked fighters 
leading them from the barges. Warriors led squads to 
reinforce the lines as the League crabs arrived, each set of 
false men in sync with a living leader. 

184 



Vance Moore 

The Keldons chanted, and the line tensed, becoming 
rock hard as the crabs hit. Crab bludgeons rose and fell, 
each blow smashing men and manikins alike to the ground. 
Barrin could see misshapen corpses falling as bones 
shattered into mush. 

League officers screamed orders as they ran to the line, 
and the crabs unleashed flurries of bolts into the Keldons. 
Men fell as blood and gore exploded from projectile 
wounds, but the hollow warriors soaked up the fire without 
wavering. A few of the false men dropped, but even the 
heaviest League blow couldn't crack the line. More and 
more swords flowed from the barges, and the Keldons 
started to advance. League machines attacked as 
individuals, but mixtures of manikins and warriors acted as 
unified squads. Manikins threw themselves onto war 
machines while axes severed mechanical limbs. 

The infantry lagged behind its steel allies, hesitant to 
add merely human strength to the destruction the war 
machines inflicted. Now the League constructions were 
falling. Chanting madmen swung bloody swords. Here and 
there near-giants inspired twisting maelstroms of slaughter. 
Some Keldons were in heavy armor, steel enclosures on the 
shoulders and chest holding burning coals and brands. 
Waves of smoke poured over the League lines. Soldiers 
coughed and felt a spreading terror. The war manikins 
threw themselves on infantry spears and broke the League 
units into clumps of panicking men. The crabs were 
consumed, and more and more soldiers abandoned all 
hope. Many began to run away from the battles, streaming 
back to camp or into Keldon territory, fleeing the fighting 
without regard for direction. 

A few units held firm. The single section of mantises 
advanced into the Keldon line, their arms flickering in 
attacks that yanked warriors into range of their cutting 

185 



Prophecy 

jaws. The infantry with the mantises supported the 
machines, protecting their flanks, but the rest of the 
League was melting away. Even the elite soldiers retreated. 
In the midst of the fighting withdrawal, Barrin could see 
General Mageta directing men equipped with launchers. 
The unit fired light rockets into the warriors and manikins. 
Dozens flew apart in explosions, but the Keldons charged, 
some jumping over the remains of their comrades. Mageta 
and other soldiers moved forward with swords and shields 
while their comrades reloaded. 

The Kipamu League cavalry had swung wide and fell on 
the left wing of the Keldon army. Bolts bled Keldon 
warriors, and the League riders taunted them out of 
position, pretending to retreat and then turning on the 
strung-out warriors chasing them. The horsemen turned to 
attack again, but now the barges moved to the flanks. 
Ballista bolts and fireballs left wounded horses screaming in 
the dirt. Young warriors finished off dismounted 
cavalrymen. 

The Keldons were charging up the slope after the 
retreating Jamuraan army. Barrin could feel the force of the 
enemy magic fading. The air-protection units were walking 
up the slope to provide cover. 

"Wing down along the slope," Barrin told the pilot. 

"The battle's lost, sir," Yarbo said. "The army has come 
apart, and you can't put it back together." 

"I can't salvage the day, but I can save the army," Barrin 
growled. "Now do as I say." Reluctantly, the pilot nosed the 
ornithopter down as he had been ordered. 

Barrin had held back, hoping that the League generals 
knew what they were doing. The reversal had been so 
sudden that the wizard couldn't hope to turn the battle. 
But he was damned if he would just fly away with the 
Keldons utterly victorious. Barrin pulled energy from the 

186 



Vance Moore 

land harder than ever, his rage and disgust growing as he 
came closer and closer to the Keldon forces. Fire streamers 
began to fly again, and the ornithopter dodged. Barrin 
compressed his wrath until it beat against his control like a 
maddened beast, then he released it. A narrow spike of 
energy burst from the ornithopter. It entered the ground 
like an awl. Huge amounts of energy flowed through a 
narrow channel, filling the ground with power. 

An explosion erupted deep in the hill, and Barrin was 
spent as he flew away, his mind barely aware of what was 
happening. The slope was not deep, and the landslide was 
more of a slump than a cataclysm, but barges tumbled and 
buried themselves in the dirt as the ground trembled and 
lost cohesion. Warriors who feared no man screamed as 
they were buried alive. Only a small part of the Keldon 
army was covered, but all pursuit stopped as warriors and 
slaves desperately dug at the turned soil, hoping to bring 
living men up from the dirt instead of corpses. 

"Take us to where the army is rallying," Barrin 
whispered to Yarbo. The wizard felt drained, disconnected 
as the ornithopter climbed away from the battlefield. 

187 



Prophecy 

Chapter 12 

Haddad dreamed. He fell through space. Through the 
still air he could see the clouds rushing up. Then, a cloud 
surrounded him, and there was no movement. His hands 
and feet knocked on wood as he turned. He was in the 
stasis box! The smoke forced itself down his throat, trying 
to strangle him. He jumped up and ran. Everything was 
covered. It was fog, and he ran slower and slower as the 
chill of it drained the heat from his body. No matter which 
direction he ran, he was still lost. He began to stumble and 
trip over uneven ground. Was that water he waded 
through? The fog was clearing, and now he could see. He 
was on a battlefield. Torn and mangled bodies stretched 
toward the horizon, many submerged in bloody pools of 
stagnant water. They were his comrades he had trained 
with. He stumbled from corpse to corpse, looking into dead 
eyes as he tried to find a survivor. Now he found childhood 
friends, school' mates from years before, neighbors from his 
youth, and members of his family. He screamed in grief, 
and his voice swept everything away. He cried alone on an 
empty plain. Then someone walked toward him. It was 
Latulla! The artificer stood before him, her arms open wide 
and a smile on her face. He ran at her, his fists clenched so 
tightly that blood leaked from them. She showed no fear 
and waved him on. He struck her, and her arms shattered 
at the blows. But it was Lord Druik who fell at his feet. The 
warlord's limbs and face were gone, eaten away by the jelly, 
so only a torso and head lay writhing. Then Druik was on a 

188 



Vance Moore 

table, and Haddad attached new limbs and forced machine 
parts into the Keldon. Finally, Druik had arms and legs, 
and Haddad lay weapons at the hands and feet of his 
creation. Just the head remained to be done, a fleshy skull 
without eyes. Someone handed him a mask to place over 
the head. As Haddad screwed the metal to bone, the eyes 
of the mask opened and stared at him in pain. Haddad 
awoke. 

The former League soldier lay on an actual bed. It was 
narrow and creaked loudly as he tried to raise his head. He 
finally managed to sit up. Haddad's mouth seemed full of 
cotton, and he staggered toward the door. A table with a 
bucket of water on top diverted his path. He checked to 
make sure it was not the chamber pot and drank using his 
hand as a cup. Haddad blinked as he considered the room. 
Light leaked through a shutter and provided a dim 
illumination. In a corner his gear lay in a pile, and except 
for the bed and the table, there was no furniture. A candle 
sat on the table, and he could see a chamber pot under the 
bed. For an inn it seemed inadequate, but for a prison it 
was surprisingly comfortable. Haddad tried the door, but as 
he expected, it was firmly locked. The window opposite the 
door was not locked and neither was it barred. Haddad 
threw the shutters wide and blinked away tears as the light 
assaulted his eyes. Eventually his vision cleared, and he 
looked out over a cluster of buildings. 

In the distance were bare hills, a low wall of weathered 
rock hemming in the sky. There were scattered, massive 
structures of stone and timber. There were no real streets, 
just beaten paths between buildings and a road that lead off 
to the hills. The shadows were long and covered the 
ground under his window. Everything was quiet, and 
Haddad wondered at the silence. Now he could see 
warriors and slaves walking between buildings, but the 

189 



Prophecy 

scene seemed nearly deserted. A gust of wind made him 
shiver, and he grabbed the blanket from the bed as he 
looked out. 

Those were women walking, he now thought. The 
groups were organized around a core of large richly dressed 
figures with smaller women orbiting around them. Haddad 
watched and noticed there were no children visible. In 
every city he knew at least a child or two played in the 
streets or was carried by its mother. He watched a warrior 
walk below him. The sound of his footsteps was muffled, 
and he left footprints in the ground that slowly vanished 
from the thick coating of moss. 

Haddad was up several stories, and he wondered if he 
was in a building like the others before him, all high 
peaked and very large. Windows for light broke the walls, 
and on the roofs were skylights and light wells. There were 
smaller buildings scattered around, and Haddad recognized 
animal corrals, though few beasts moved within them. 

Haddad listened carefully and heard the voices of 
children off to the side. He leaned forward and looked left 
and down into the comer of a walled compound. The wall 
enclosed acres, and children played and ran in the open 
field. Behind them loomed a complex of buildings with 
figures moving in great numbers. Haddad looked at the 
children near the wall as a circle formed, and a free-for-all 
erupted. A larger boy moved through the fight, dealing out 
blows that left youths gasping for air. On the opposite side 
of the battle several girls moved as a group, setting upon 
fighters who came too close. The fighting died down as the 
victorious boy slowly circled the girls, and then the 
children started back toward the complex of buildings. 

"Perhaps it's a school," Haddad muttered to himself and 
then turned as the door opened behind him. 

190 



Vance Moore 

It was a Keldon female. Her gray skin was weathered 
and her hair was sprinkled with white. She wore a dress of 
deep blue with several panels of brown leather. Her feet 
were booted, and a belt with dagger and wallet completed 
her wardrobe. She was slighter than Latulla but looked 
hard. 

"You're awake then," she said. "I am Iola, the steward of 
this house. Please follow me so you may commence your 
duties." She paused slightly before turning to lead the way 
from the room. "Now I suggest you hurry and finish 
dressing." 

Haddad had woken dressed except for boots, which he 
found sitting under the bed behind the chamber pot. He 
jammed his feet into them and patted himself down 
quickly. He paused. Something was on his left arm. He 
quickly rolled up his sleeve and discovered a metal band, 
which covered his upper arm. It was a dull bronze, and 
Latulla's sigil circled it in a repeating pattern. He tried to 
locate the catch or seam by which he could remove it but 
found nothing. How could he have not noticed it before? It 
was tight enough that he could not slip a fingernail under 
its edge. He began to dig into the skin around it when Iola 
interrupted him. 

"You can scratch your itch later," she said. "Follow me 
now." Her voice contained the warning signs that Haddad 
learned from Latulla, and he stood up at once. He stepped 
quickly to follow her as she proceeded onto a staircase, and 
he closed the door after him, noting the sigil on the door. 
It was a stylized rodent, and Haddad wondered if the 
carving reflected his status in the house. 

"May I ask questions, my lady?" Haddad knew flattery 
never hurt. "Where are we?" 

"You stand on Keld, first among nations," she replied as 
they walked down the stairs and through a series of rooms. 

191 



Prophecy 

Haddad peered uncertainly as his eyes adapted to the 
interior lighting. They arrived at a great hall. He looked up 
and could see the shafts of light from light wells falling to 
the floors. Metal reflectors threw a spray of light into the 
corners. Haddad could see a raised dais, but the hall was 
mainly empty. 

Haddad and Iola walked along a series of balconies and 
smaller rooms. 

"These chambers are for meetings and guests of Latulla. 
Stay out of them except when on errands," commanded the 
house steward. 

"Is Latulla important here?" Haddad asked. 

"Important?" Iola scoffed. "She holds the house. When 
she was barely out of the cradle house she expelled the 
former master and took it for her own." She spoke with 
obvious pride at what Haddad considered little more than a 
great theft. "But her travels and work meant the house 
suffered, so she took me as a second and placed it in my 
hands." 

"Is she here now?" Haddad asked, wondering if they 
were going to report to her. He could see more clearly now, 
and carvings seemed to jump out of the walls. Every panel, 
every railing, had a design. Haddad thought the wall he 
passed showed a story rather than just an ornamental 
pattern. 

"She had business among the great lords and is not 
expected for quite some time," Iola answered. Then she 
turned a corner and walked away from the interior hall. 
The light grew dimmer, and the carvings were less ornate. 
Iola pointed out the firewood room and other storage areas 
and then went down to the next floor. The narrow 
staircase was black, and Haddad felt his way down the steps 
as Iola waited impatiently at the bottom. He could feel 
carving on the railing and the walls as his hands guided 

192 



Vance Moore 

him down. He turned a corner, and there was more light. 
Haddad and Iola were in a kitchen, and he looked at the 
men and a few women preparing food. The air was hot, and 
Haddad perspired as he passed the cooking fires. Panting 
dogs ran in work-wheels, turning spits of meat. The cook 
and the principal workers in the kitchen were women and 
showed the gray skin of Keldons, while the men were all 
subject races. Humans, dwarves, elves, and a few races that 
Haddad could only guess at were stirring pots and making 
bread. 

"You have access at all hours and may freely take what 
you need as long as you do not interfere with the others' 
duties," Iola continued as she headed toward the pantries. 

Iola and Haddad passed many slaves, but none were 
introduced, and all ducked their eyes at their passage. Iola 
opened the door to the yard and stepped outside. She was 
walking toward a network of outbuildings almost exactly 
like the workshops Latulla had constructed back on 
Haddad's home continent. Iola waved for him to stay 
where he was and yelled for a slave to stop. The man fell to 
his knees as Iola approached. 

Haddad turned and looked at the exterior of the house. 
It was the size of a palace! Haddad would have thought a 
king or great family lived there, and he wondered how even 
Latulla, strong as she was, had been able to evict the 
previous tenants. 

Haddad heard the sound of a blow being landed but 
only saw Iola walking toward him as the slave staggered 
away. Iola continued as if nothing had happened. 

"You will be working in the farthest workshop, the one 
next to the cradle house." She waved toward the wall 
behind which Haddad had watched the children battle. 

193 



Prophecy 

"Is the cradle house a school then?" Haddad queried. If 
Latulla came from that particular institution, Haddad had 
no wish to meet the rest of the graduating class. 

"Of course the cradle house is a school. It is also a 
hospital and nursery. All Keldons are born and raised in a 
cradle house." Iola shook her head at his ignorance. "You 
foreign slaves ask the most bizarre questions." 

They stopped before the workshop where Haddad 
would be working. It was a high-peaked structure of at least 
two stories. 

A staircase ran along the exterior of the building, and 
Iola started up the steps. Haddad followed, looking into the 
windows of the first story. He could see little beyond 
shadows and covered tables. A large lock closed the door at 
the top of the stairs, and Iola took a ring of keys from her 
wallet and sorted through them. She extracted one and 
opened the door. 

Haddad entered the room first. It was still dim even 
with the door open, and Iola proceeded to open the 
shutters, letting in more light. Haddad noticed that these 
windows were barred. On the floor lay a collection of crates 
with Latulla's mark, and a series of League technical 
manuals sat on a nearby table. Iola gestured toward the 
piled supplies. 

"Latulla commands you to reconstruct one of your war 
machines from the materials provided. She will expect it 
completed at her return. You will work on it except when 
you are resting at the main house." Iola handed him the 
key to the door. "You will be responsible for securing your 
work. Let no other slave enter, and say nothing about your 
work. Meals are your own responsibility." And with that, 
she left. 

Haddad was alone and free from observation. He locked 
the door from the inside and stretched with unaccustomed 

194 



Vance Moore 

freedom. If he had been given some liberty, he wanted to 
put it to good use. He began inspecting his work area. 
There were a plethora of tools that he could use as 
weapons— chisels, hammers, bar stock, metal shears, and 
more. He put aside an awl and some wire for construction 
of weapons. Then, thinking that he might be questioned by 
Iola, he opened the crates. They did indeed contain parts 
for a steel ant, several in fact. The problem was that every 
casing had been pried open and examined. Gears and 
cabling were missing. Many of the parts showed what must 
be combat damage. Worse, there were no powerstones to 
move and control the device once it was constructed. 
Haddad was trained in quick field repairs using modular 
parts to replace damaged subsystems. Building an ant would 
be much more difficult than it had first appeared. Haddad 
rubbed the metal band on his arm as he considered what 
would be necessary to fulfill his commission from his 
Keldon masters. His arm itched, and he wondered what it 
signified. He wondered how long it would itch and turned 
back to work with a promise that he would ask about the 
armband. He emptied the crates and considered how to 
proceed. 

It was growing late when Haddad finally prepared to 
leave. The workshop lacked lamps or candles, and twilight 
was ruining Haddad's vision. He was starving, and he 
promised himself that in the future he would bring food 
and drink with him. He sat at a table, looking at his hands 
and thinking about the next day. His hands were colored 
with oil and grease from the parts he inspected. As he 
cleaned them on a cloth, he noticed how the stains had set 
in quickly and already looked several days old. 

He was in front of a window facing the cradle house. 
The rise of the workshop and a dip under the enclosure 
wall allowed him to look within the compound. Children 

195 



Prophecy 

were being called inside, and Keldon boys raced each other. 
Pregnant women rose from chairs and walked into the 
buildings within the compound. None of the women 
appeared gray skinned, and Haddad wondered where the 
Keldon mothers sat. 

It wasn't until he was outside that he realized almost 
the entire day had passed without thoughts of escape. 
Access to all those tools, and he made no weapon nor had 
he appropriated a tool for his private use. All he was 
carrying was a League manual and some writing supplies. 

He promised himself that at the very least he would 
write down his observations and any information he 
thought the League might want. His current freedom was 
an illusion that might end at any time. He must start 
planning for an escape. 

Only a few seconds after starting toward Latulla's house 
he heard the creak of a gate behind him. He turned to see a 
hidden door opening in the cradle house's enclosure wall. 
Several figures stepped through before it closed. Even after 
seeing it open, Haddad was unsure of the gate's position on 
the unmarked wall. Remembering the respect toward 
cradle women and midwives demonstrated by the Keldon 
warriors back in the military colony, Haddad stopped and 
lowered his head in respect as the party passed. The leader 
of the party was cloaked, but her companions were not 
Keldon—the first women of other races that he had seen 
close up for longer than he cared to remember. He forgot to 
duck his head and stared as they passed him, but no 
answering glance was sent his way. He waited a few seconds 
and followed them, wondering where they would lead. 

Iola greeted the party at the door. "Erissa, what a 
pleasure to see you. Latulla will be so upset that she has 
missed you." The steward fairly fawned over the 
unexpected guest. 

196 



Vance Moore 

Erissa uncloaked and threw her outerwear to one of the 
women accompanying her. She was shorter than anyone 
else in the party and heavy. Time seemed to have 
compressed her to a stump compared to her taller 
companions. 

"I doubt that very much. Plans are not going well, and 
Latulla and her supporters are a source of constant 
disappointment," Erissa said. She and Iola walked toward 
one of the rooms that Haddad had been forbidden from 
entering. He followed the rest of the group, holding the 
manual up as if in explanation to anyone who might 
question him. 

"Latulla knows that the invasion is necessary, Erissa," 
Iola said. "It's just forcing the members of the ruling 
council to acknowledge that fact. There are other clans 
and houses fighting to bring down the League after all." 

"But the bulk of them stay here or waste their time 
sailing and raiding for mere booty," Erissa spat. "Pursuing 
folly while our heritage and eventual victory is stolen by 
the Kipamu League. Even the women you have captured 
from that country have not reversed the birthing trends." 

The human women accompanying the two Keldons 
stopped and seated themselves on the furniture and chairs 
while their principal withdrew into a farther room. Haddad 
cursed the luck and took a seat as well. In response to their 
questioning looks, he brandished the manual and bared his 
arm with its metal band. The women only shrugged and 
began dividing up the foods on the table. At the sight of 
the bread and dried fruit, Haddad's stomach loudly 
announced its currently empty state. One of the women 
smiled and offered the plate to Haddad. He took it as an 
invitation for conversation even as he grabbed several 
slices of dried apple. 

197 



Prophecy 

There were four women regarding Haddad. Two of 
them were blonde. One was very muscular, her neck and 
forearms sharply defined. Her eyes were dark blue but hard 
as she stared at him. Her blonde companion was slender 
and her features almost ethereal. Her ears appeared 
somewhat pointed under her hair, and Haddad wondered if 
she had elf blood. 

"So what is life like in the cradle house?" he asked. The 
women looked at each other while considering their 
answers. The other two shifted their seats to face Haddad 
more fully. One woman was dark haired, and her eyes were 
green. Her face was odd to Haddad. The skin was tight 
against her skull as if blown back by a wind. Her mouth 
seemed small, but her teeth were sharp and perhaps filed. 
The final woman was dark, perhaps from the southern 
kingdoms in Jamuraa. Her hair was tightly braided against 
her skull, and intricate networks of scars framed her face, 
drawing Haddad's gaze to her brown eyes. 

"It's good enough for some," the brunette replied 
through sharp teeth. "Once they adapt to certain realities." 

All the women nodded in agreement. Haddad looked at 
them. All were in good health and on the backside of 
thirty, and all of them exuded confidence and power. Any 
of them should have appealed to his senses, but he felt 
numbed by their presence. 

"What realities are we speaking of?" he asked. The 
response was stunning. 

"The hardest for some is giving up their children. Even 
though they know the babies will receive good care, some 
can't overcome their feelings. No matter how firmly one 
tries, some breeders won't adjust," the muscular blonde 
explained. Haddad wondered what sort of people 
considered loss of a child something to ignore. 

198 



Vance Moore 

"One woman from down south, who shares your 
coloring," the brunette interjected, "wouldn't stop crying 
after her first child went into the nursery. Even though 
there was a good chance that it might become a war 
leader." 

"And at least hers didn't die like so many others have 
done of late," the slender blonde added. Something about 
this comment set the others staring at her. Haddad now 
saw the women as they saw themselves, hard and 
indifferent. They had closed off their empathy and been 
rewarded with positions of authority inside the cradle 
house. Haddad heard the Keldon women returning, and he 
withdrew as the others stood. He went to his room to 
consider what he had learned. 

That night he wrote notes regarding all his experiences 
and what he had observed. He dared not keep it in his 
room and decided that he would hide it somewhere in 
Latulla's workshop where it was unlikely to be discovered. 
He blew out the candle and went to sleep. 

* * * * * 

Haddad dreamed. He was inside the walls of the cradle 
house, and instead of buildings, there was only a small 
basket in the middle of the yard. The women he had met 
stood at either side, and a long line of new mothers 
stretched out into the distance. As the line moved forward, 
each baby was ripped away and thrown down into the 
wicker container. As each child disappeared, the basket 
swelled and grew until the women were throwing children 
high into the air. Each was gulped down, and then 
something broke out of the cradle house and fell upon 
every living thing. 

199 



Prophecy 

Dawn woke Haddad, and he rose from bed with a will. 
He stuffed the papers that he worked on the night before 
into his wallet. Best to get to the workshop as early as 
possible and let Iola find him toiling away like a good little 
slave. This time he thought to stop by the kitchen after 
freshening up. 

The baker and her assistants were just putting out the 
bread from the pre-dawn baking, and Haddad snared a loaf. 
He ignored the baker's indignant utterance and snatched a 
sack of ale that he spotted lying unattended. He stepped 
outside into the crisp air. Despite a touch of frost, Haddad 
found he was warm in the clothes he had selected from his 
gear. If the workshop was too cold, he would check the 
small stove to see if he could start a fire. He remembered 
that a load of wood was stacked to the side. The door 
opened easily to the workshop, and he locked it behind 
him. 

Hours passed as he worked on the parts for the steel ant. 
Perhaps by cannibalizing several machines he would be 
able to create a fighter for himself. He certainly would trust 
the loyalty of a mechanical construct over the other house 
slaves. Haddad remembered the advice two nameless men 
had provided him. Seek to escape and trust no one. 

He lost himself in sorting through a box of gears, 
looking for a replacement he could use in a leg assembly. 
The day passed quickly with no interruptions. Haddad 
considered the assembly project against the parts he had 
available. He could finish it if only he had enough time. 
The most difficult part would be closing and filling the 
modular sections that were picked apart. The League 
machine was near perfect in its performance, but it 
depended on the high quality control of the sealed 
modules. A steel ant might go months without 
maintenance, barring battle damage. If he could contrive 

200 



Vance Moore 

some plan of escape, the ant might be the key. In addition, 
just completing the repair would boost his confidence in a 
time when he needed some small victory. He wasn't even 
sure where Keld was, much less how he would get home. 
Finding the information he needed would take time. 

He grew increasingly drowsy as he tried to plan his 
escape. Who could he talk to? How to keep from raising 
suspicions? Who to bribe and how? All questions that 
needed to be answered and soon. 

He rested his head against his arm, the metal armband 
cool and soothing against his skin. When he awoke it was 
growing dark. He didn't know how he could have dozed off. 
Perhaps the ale he had drunk was far stronger than he 
realized. He thought no one had checked up on him the 
night before, but he couldn't be sure. It was possible that he 
had already missed the bed check or closing of the house 
doors. He needed to get back to his room. He reached into 
his wallet for the shop key and found the notes he had 
written still inside. Carrying them back to the house 
seemed incredibly foolhardy to him now. He needed a 
place to hide them, but while he had identified which 
cabinets and tool chests saw frequent use, there was no 
guarantee if he hid the papers in one seldom used they 
might not be discovered. 

He needed a hiding place where no one would look. 
Haddad fell to the floor looking for a loose board, a crack 
under a table, anyplace to hide the incriminating words. 
He was back among strange tools and books he could not 
read when he found what he was looking for. His hand 
brushed a board, and it rocked. He gripped it, and to his 
surprise, it lifted completely free. The gap it left was 
approximately six inches by eighteen inches. Haddad 
wondered what purpose the cutout had served. The pattern 
of rust and signs of brackets told Haddad that a tank had 

201 



Prophecy 

been removed in the past. The cutout must have allowed 
hoses to carry liquid up and down from the floor below. 

On his knees, he peered through the hole. There was a 
small ledge along the wall, but it was almost impossible to 
see anything in the floor below. Haddad thought a moment 
then walked to his tool kit. Yes, there were several metallic 
mirrors for examining inside war machines. He selected the 
largest and maneuvered it, scanning the space below. The 
second floor was reinforced with extra large beams. There 
was a gap between a beam and the floor plank right by the 
cutout. The removal of the tank had allowed the flooring 
to rise. Haddad could just shove the papers into the gap. 
Let someone try to find them now, he thought. 

It was the creak of an opening door that made him 
freeze. He could not conceive of a more suspicious situation 
to be caught in. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized 
the noise was coming from the first story. He heard the 
sound of rustling fabric. 

"Make sure that the curtains completely seal the 
windows," whispered a voice. Haddad could make out light 
footfalls as someone complied. 

"They are all closed, Erissa." The voice was the high 
piping of a child, and Haddad wondered what was going 
on. He was sure that it would be suicidal to call down and 
ask. A candle was lit, and Erissa and a young Keldon boy 
were revealed in the mirror. A cloak covered the woman, 
and she leaned against a crate as the boy hurried through 
the room, closing shutters and pulling curtains. His figure 
went in and out of Haddad's field of view as the League 
technician remained frozen, staring in the mirror. 

"Now Greel," Erissa said, "let us talk of your journey 
south to Jamuraa." The child seemed petulant as he kicked 
at the floor with his heel. He appeared a sturdy boy of eight 
in well-made clothes. 

202 



Vance Moore 

Perhaps he's family, Haddad thought. I wonder why 
they are talking here? 

"I don't know why I need to head south," Greel 
groused. "I am happy here. There will be no children for 
me to play with. Surely Latulla needs no watcher over her." 

Erissa punched him sharply, her rings tearing flesh. No 
blood seeped forth, and Haddad watched the gashes begin 
to close, hoping that it was a trick of the candlelight—but 
knowing it wasn't—as the flesh healed. 

"Latulla's plan for reviving the witch kings will fail, but 
she will command in the south. Even with all the aid and 
spells I've provided her, I still don't trust our grip. If she 
were tied to the altar, I would treat it as an ambush," she 
hissed. Erissa took a deep breath and looked at Greel. "It's 
time to put your childhood behind you. You will find new 
playmates among the League and our less fervent 
supporters. Now I have a treat for you." Erissa opened her 
cloak and revealed a sleeping babe in a sling. She 
unstrapped the child and laid it down. 

What in the nine hells is she doing? Haddad wondered. 
He knew something was dreadfully wrong, and as he 
watched, Greel struck. 

The boy—or whatever it was—leaped up and balanced 
on the side of a crate. It inhaled and then crouched down, 
its mouth open wide as it began to exhale. Wider and wider 
the jaws opened, like a snake swallowing an egg. 

Haddad tried to move but couldn't. Greel was a nexus 
of despair and death, and he drained every bit of Haddad's 
energy. The candle seemed to dim and flicker as if going 
out. Erissa seemed unaffected, and she moved, blocking 
Haddad's view of what was going on. The workshop 
seemed colder and colder, Haddad's armband bit into his 
flesh as it began to frost. Would his body be discovered in 

203 



Prophecy 

the morning? Haddad wondered. Then, the cold began to 
abate, and the room returned to normal. 

The creature seemed a boy once more, panting as if a 
race had just ended. He was larger now, and his features 
were more mature, more rugged. Greel stretched, and his 
mouth gaped wide as he breathed. The babe was still, and 
Haddad knew it wasn't sleeping. 

"I will need more sustenance, Erissa," Greel said as he 
wiped his brow. His voice was deeper now. "We need to 
find an eating place within the cradle house. I will be a 
warrior's size soon." 

"The curse of the final days is upon us," Erissa laughed. 
"A few more dead children will surprise no one." She 
moved to the window and blew out the candles. 

Haddad heard the curtains being opened and then the 
creak of the door. Who could he tell? A slave's word 
against a cradle mistress's? Any hint of what he had seen 
would mean his death. He knelt on the floor a long time 
before he replaced the cutout and found his way to his 
room. 

204 



Vance Moore 

Chapter 13 

Haddad's work on the steel ant continued. Each day 
found him carefully repairing parts, recreating linkages, and 
reconnecting cables, but he no longer imagined that he 
would miraculously escape once he completed it. A single 
ant wouldn't carry him from Keld, and he couldn't have it 
following him around like a pet. 

He found it harder to concentrate. The murder 
committed in the shop below him preyed on his mind. He 
saw Erissa and her entourage several times through the 
window as they went back and forth from the cradle house 
to visit Latulla's house. The cradle mistress was 
accompanied by a number of young boys, each bigger than 
the last. Greel was growing fast. Haddad also watched 
several funeral processions slowly wind from the gates of 
the cradle house toward the mountains. Haddad knew that 
the small shrouded forms were the result of the monster's 
appetite. How could Erissa and her creature kill within the 
compound and not be discovered? In any League town, one 
often saw children's funerals, but to have so many in just a 
few days? Haddad also remembered the cold comments of 
the cradle women. The death of children was common in 
the cradle house but had increased of late. Just what dark 
sorcery did Erissa practice? 

Haddad resolved to learn more. He requisitioned some 
pure alcohol to clean parts of the ant's mechanism and 
ordered several times what he needed, using the extra to 
spike a sack of wine. 

205 



Prophecy 

"Come join me," Haddad called to a stockman the next 
day. The League technician sat inside a stable with two 
cups and his wine. Latulla had several separate enclosures 
for beasts, and one was nearly abandoned as many of the 
mounts were with Latulla's party. A lone servant was 
cleaning and repairing tack for the missing animals. The 
slave was returning from the main house with a chunk of 
bread from the kitchen. Haddad knew that the man often 
ate separate from the other servants. 

"Some wine will wash your meal down better than 
water from the trough," Haddad offered as he filled a cup. 
The liquor was far stronger with the addition of the 
cleaning alcohol, but the slave gulped it down without a 
word of appreciation. The stockman only held out his 
empty cup for more. 

"I am Haddad from the southern continent. I know very 
little about the other servants or about Keld," Haddad 
explained as he filled the man's cup once again. "Perhaps 
you might instruct me." 

The stableman's response was to drain his cup again, 
this time in slow swallows. The man was big, but smaller 
than the Keldon warriors. His clothes stank of dung and 
sweat. His brown hair was long and greasy, and his face was 
nearly hidden by a snarled beard. A series of tattoos swirled 
around his eyes, and a broad expanse of scalp hinted at his 
previous hairline. 

"I do not gossip like an old woman. Talk to others if you 
would know more." The stableman threw the dregs of his 
cup against the wall, leaving a stain. Haddad spoke quickly 
before the slave could leave. 

"I would speak to the old women, but there are none to 
be found. I know women have been stolen from my own 
country, but I haven't seen any female slaves except from 

206 



Vance Moore 

the cradle house. Where do they all go?" Haddad asked 
hurriedly. The stableman paused. 

"As you said. All women go into the cradle house. They 
bear Keldon children or help care for them. Perhaps other 
places in Keld allow human females to be outside the 
cradle house walls but not here," he said slowly. 

"But if only slaves bear Keldon children, where do the 
Keldon women give birth?" Haddad was trying to get a firm 
grip on the facts. 

"They don't," was the reply. "Here all warriors spring 
from slave mothers." The slave continued, "The Keldon 
females can bear children, but almost all choose not to." 

"Why?" Haddad asked. A race that replenished itself by 
stealing women to bear its warriors? A race with little or no 
pregnancy by accident? The Keldons seemed beyond 
understanding. 

"Males and females do not have sex except to bear 
children. The mother would bear most of the burden alone 
after the male left. It is much easier to have slaves do the 
hard work of bearing children while the Keldon women 
concentrate on other things," he finished. "Now I must 
work." He staggered as he got up but set a course for the 
tack room and walked fairly straight. 

Haddad looked at the deflated sack of wine and 
considered the information he had just received. The 
Keldons raided for tufa, but a race that depended on slaves 
to replenish itself had an endless appetite for subject 
peoples. Haddad wondered if the League could beat off an 
invasion by such a race. 

* * * * * 

The following morning Iola called upon him in the 
workshop. "I am checking to see what progress you have 

207 



Prophecy 

made in completing the ant," she said as she swept through 
the door. Haddad had continued working, but the machine 
was still primarily parts scattered over the table. Iola turned 
to him with a severe expression. 

"Latulla will be arriving in several days for the Festival 
of Passage. I suggest you have the device completed by 
then, or your screams will sound throughout the night 
when the mistress arrives," she warned. 

Haddad knew that no excuses would be acceptable, and 
Iola left before he could get a more precise timetable. The 
next days were spent entirely in the workshop. Haddad 
soon realized that testing would consume more of his time 
than he had planned. Without a powerstone to show if the 
parts were working, Haddad had to go through laborious 
exercises and makeshifts to see. Finally he realized that 
until he had a powerstone, he would never know if his 
repairs worked. He locked the workshop a final time and 
went for his room. The sheaf of notes he had written on his 
experiences in Keld he left in the rafters of the first floor, 
but he took with him a wire garrote sewn into his clothing 
and a small knife hidden in his wallet. They were small 
prizes compared to the wealth of tools he left behind, but 
perhaps it was better to travel light when one has a long 
way to go. 

The Festival of Passage commenced, and a bizarre sense 
of gaiety could be felt throughout the household. The 
Keldons observed a holiday to commemorate the beginning 
of change for the approaching year. The festival celebrated 
the completion of the flight from their enemy in ancient 
times. Even the slaves were happy, for by custom, 
punishments for everything except serious crimes were 
waived or delayed. Not that the slaves ran wild with 
freedom, for the Keldons had a long memory and were 
always ready to punish when the festival was over. But for a 

208 



Vance Moore 

few days, the slaves were free of the heavy hands of their 
masters. 

Warriors competed in fights with blunted and padded 
weapons, their aggression channeled against each other as 
it was inside the cradle house. Winners of the contest 
gained the attention of the commanders and perhaps a 
chance to advance on the next mission. Slaves aped their 
masters with feats of strength, and Haddad watched the 
stableman win the wrestling matches. Other slaves gave 
the victor trinkets, but no overseer took any notice. 
Haddad could see the fights inside the cradle house 
enclosure grow more and more vicious as children sought 
dominance. More and more he saw single males mastering 
their fellows while the girls bonded together into separate 
groups. Everyone was locked in contests for position but 
Haddad. The struggles seemed irrelevant as he worked on 
the steel ant. Each day saw him closer to completing it, but 
his work furthered his enemies' plans. Each part fixed and 
oiled felt like a betrayal. 

Haddad tried to appear content under the eyes of Iola, 
but he could not. So far his living conditions were 
comparatively pleasant when contrasted with his earlier 
captivity, but at least at the colony the illusion of escape or 
the more improbable rescue by Kipamu League forces kept 
his spirits up. Despite the run of the kitchen and the 
respect he received from the other servants as an arm-
banded slave, Haddad felt impotent. 

His mood did not improve as a round of guests appeared 
from the cradle house. Erissa was accompanied by a new set 
of female followers. They were well groomed, and the male 
servants took advantage of an opportunity they hardly ever 
had—the chance to talk to a woman of their own race. 
The cradle women were soon surrounded by as many 
admirers as any socialite beauty at a League ball. Haddad 

209 



Prophecy 

had no desire to speak with them. Each one collaborated in 
the enslavement and controlled breeding of humanity. 
Whole nations might flow under the hands of the cradle 
mistress and midwife, but only Keldons marched away as 
their slave mothers bore more Keldon children. 

Erissa was talking quietly with Iola. Stooped and eating 
a small cake and tea, the cradle woman reminded him of an 
elderly maiden aunt. Then he saw the young warrior 
standing behind her. The youth was near his full growth 
and clad in fine clothes, a sword at his side. His stance and 
alertness unnerved the technical officer, but he had no idea 
why. Then the soldier turned, and he got a glimpse of the 
extra-wide mouth. It was Erissa's demonic servant grown 
large— either that or a close sibling. Haddad was unable to 
say which would be worse. He began moving as far away as 
possible. Then an announcement rang through the hall. 

"All gather for Sirk, the storyteller." All present flowed 
to the side of the room and stopped a respectful distance 
from an old warrior. The man was scarred and infirm 
though not missing any limbs as many other older Keldons. 

His clothing and weapons were of fine quality but 
jarring in the clash of color and styles. It wasn't until after 
Sirk walked to stand before the crowd and bumped into a 
table with a searching hand that Haddad realized the man 
was blind. 

More warriors and women poured in from other parts of 
the house and the grounds. A large crowd began to push 
each other for better viewing positions. Haddad moved to 
the rear of the room and could catch only glimpses of the 
storyteller, but once the Keldon spoke, his voice filled the 
space. 

"Not all great tales are finished. Listen to the 
prophecies of the final days," Sirk said, and he gestured 
grandly in a style of speaking that Haddad was unfamiliar 

210 



Vance Moore 

with. "Keld was created from the blood of heroes, drifting 
from our ancient shores until we landed north. At first 
these children were timid, holding only enough land to live 
and selfishly thinking of themselves before the people. In 
time the blood ran thin, and the spirit of the people gasped 
for relief and for the taste of battle they had left behind. 
On that day the first Keldon Witch King was born." Sirk 
paused to wet his throat with wine. 

"He towered over the north as giants loom over normal 
men. 'A great destiny awaits me,' were his words when 
soon out of the womb. 'I shall bring forth a nation to 
cleanse the world from all darkness.' The king lay down 
with the women of his enemies and brought forth sons and 
daughters to swell his army. At last he stood upon the 
mountain and called forth, 'I am ready for the darkness, let 
my enemy stand forth and the final battle begin.' But the 
servants of evil were cowards and hid from the witch king, 
plotting his death. Many times they tried to pull him down 
but always failed. Still they refused battle, denying the 
witch king his rightful victory. At last the king called to his 
people. 'I am growing old, and a new leader must follow 
and claim my victory.' With that, the king passed the 
crown and went to the Necropolis, falling into a sleeping 
death. Each king has followed him into his palace as the 
millennia have passed. Each waits for the enemy to reveal 
himself, for the final days to begin the final battle. And on 
that day, all the witch kings interred in the palace will arise 
from their slumber, and a great host shall march and crack 
the world." Sirk finished his recitation with a flourish. 

"But the final days are upon us," rang out a warrior's 
voice. One of Latulla's guards climbed on a table and began 
speaking to the crowd. "Death is spreading throughout the 
land. Children die in the cradle houses as the enemy seeks 

211 



Prophecy 

to choke our numbers! We must awaken the witch kings 
and take the battle to the enemy!" 

"And where shall we march?" argued a gate guard. "The 
enemy hides as he has always hidden. Until he reveals 
himself, we cannot raise the kings!" 

"Blasphemy!" cried yet another warrior. "The kings 
shall rise when they are ready, and you imperil the final 
victory by your talk of disturbing them." A multitude of 
voices broke out as every Keldon forgot their usual 
deference to their superiors and tried to shout each other 
down. The respect and awe that all Keldons felt for those 
of greater strength fled as religious fever drove each to 
define what was right and true. 

Swords were drawn, and cries of pain began to sound in 
the hall as steel punctuated arguments. The cradle women 
and the slaves were caught up as well, and Haddad 
wondered how many would die before the fight ended. 

"Enough!" The shout was punctuated by the 
chandeliers and candles throughout the room flaring and 
then exploding in blasts of boiling wax. Arguments were 
forgotten as all present squinted their eyes and desperately 
wiped off the fiery debris. Latulla had returned home. 

Iola ran through the crowd to explain to the artificer 
but was waved silent before she could reach the mistress of 
the house. 

"Dogs baying in the night!" Latulla said intently. 
"Arguments that have been said a hundred times and 
solved nothing! I came to celebrate passage, but it appears 
that you are stuck in my way." She drew herself up and 
looked over the crowd. "The festival is over. A new passage 
has begun." She pointed off to the side. "We travel for the 
Necropolis tomorrow, and the witch kings will awaken, or 
we will drag them into the light of day." 

212 



Vance Moore 

Latulla stalked away, leaving a confused babble behind 
her. 

213 



Prophecy 

Chapter 14 

The next morning Haddad hurried out to the workshop 
to present his work to Latulla. She had looked less 
controlled than usual the night before, and he was 
determined to appear his best. Latulla's travels would be far 
more conducive to escape than his current imprisonment 
deep in the Keldon interior. Crawling a little would be 
worth it if it got him moving again. 

The workshop was open on both levels when he 
arrived. The first floor was being emptied into cargo 
wagons. The draft horses were uneasy, shifting in their 
traces. He could hear Latulla giving orders and talking as 
he looked through the double doors blocked by the wagon. 

Iola was taking notes while Erissa sat to the side. 
Haddad was relieved to see her free of her attendants, both 
mortal and magical. Latulla knelt by the steel ant that 
Haddad had reconstructed. In her hands was a powerstone. 
She placed the crystal in the machine and closed the 
hatch. The ant came alive, and Haddad knew that she 
must have already designated herself as its controller. 

"Go forward. Go left. Go right. Back up." Each 
command was given in a clear voice, and the ant promptly 
complied. Latulla noticed him and looked over his 
shoulder. A large dog was crossing the yard, one that the 
stockmen used to herd cattle. 

"The four-legged animal one hundred yards out." The 
ant seemed to nod as Latulla spoke. "Kill it!" 

214 



Vance Moore 

The ant brushed Haddad as it raced out the door. The 
impact spun him around, and his hand smashed into the 
side of the wagon he was standing next to. The cart-horses 
whinnied in fear as the machine went past them, 
accelerating to maximum speed in only a few seconds. The 
ant hit the dog at a run and nipped off two legs in passing. 
The machine skidded along the grass as it stopped, and 
then it turned to hit the howling dog. Soon there was 
nothing but a pile of canine parts. 

"Excellent," Latulla said, looking on with a maternal 
pride as the machine came back. "I'll have to get more of 
these." Then she added pensively, "Though they kill 
awfully fast. There must be some way to stretch out the 
process." She turned to Haddad, and he thought he saw 
what could have been mistaken as a smile. 

Iola looked puzzled as she looked at the dead dog. A 
guard to the side had a faint air of disgust as he regarded 
the dead animal, and Haddad saw him mouthing "waste" to 
another warrior beside him. Haddad snapped his attention 
back to Latulla as the artificer came toward the door. 

"The ant performs up to my expectations," Latulla said 
as the machine came trotting back. Haddad saw her 
considering the rings on her hand and concentrating. The 
burst of pain that struck him was totally unexpected. He 
could feel the agony radiating from his left arm in waves. 
Was he having a heart attack? Haddad's muscles along the 
left side of his body contracted, and he fell to the floor in 
writhing agony. The artificer was silent until Haddad put 
his eyes back on her face. 

"However," Latulla continued, "Iola informs me that it 
was necessary to prod you into completing your work. In 
the future, I expect you to finish quickly with no 
prompting." 

215 



Prophecy 

Haddad couldn't even nod, the pain drew him so tight. 
Then it started to fade. Erissa watched it all with a bright, 
lively interest, while Iola kept her countenance completely 
neutral. 

"Are you sure that we can't lower the cost of that 
armband and spell?" Latulla asked Erissa. "It is so useful. I 
would like to equip my entire household with it." 

"Alas no, Latulla," the cradle mistress replied. "I myself 
band only a select few, and the extra control you gain just 
doesn't pay for the amount of time you have to take 
establishing the bond." 

"A pity." Latulla turned back to Haddad. "Go up to the 
second floor and pack the red banded tools and what you 
used for the ant." 

Haddad tried to get up but was slow. He could hardly 
gasp for air, and she was telling him to bounce up and 
continue the tasks she ordered? 

"Do you need another nudge then?" Latulla taunted. 

Haddad crawled out past the horses and slowly up the 
exterior staircase. He felt as if he had strained all the 
muscles in his chest, and he went through the open door 
and collapsed by his workbench. The bottle of alcohol was 
there, and Haddad took a drink before remembering just 
how strong the stuff was. It burned a track down his throat, 
and he gasped for air again. 

How had she been able to do that? Haddad undid his 
shirt and lifted it free of his torso. A deep flush flowed 
across the left side of his body. It all spread from the band. 
He looked at his arm for quite a while. How could 
something have such control of his body and leave him 
unaware of his vulnerability? Haddad also wondered why 
he had never cut the band off. He decided many times that 
he wanted it gone but always came up with a rationale for 

216 



Vance Moore 

retaining it. Could more than just his body be vulnerable? 
Could the device be affecting his mind as well? 

Haddad crawled to the cutout that he had observed 
Erissa through. This immediate act of defiance so soon after 
Latulla's lesson convinced him that his mind was still his 
own. He lifted the block out very carefully. 

"That's all for now, Iola," he heard Latulla say. Iola 
withdrew. 

"That was a very impressive display last night," said 
Erissa. "I almost believed it was real rage fueling that 
outburst." 

"After all the work I put into having the religious 
firebrands show up?" Latulla replied cynically. "It took 
quite a lot of time and mood drugs in the refreshments to 
provoke that riot. It was all I could do not to laugh at the 
fools." 

Erissa did laugh. "Now we will arrive with news of last 
night chasing us and a personal reason to call for a decision 
on the witch kings and the invasion." Erissa's voice became 
more thoughtful. "The women of an entire continent to fill 
the cradles of Keld." 

"I will have an additional reason to dangle before the 
council. Lord Druik has survived the round of 
experiments," Latulla announced triumphantly. 

"I hope my assistant Greel was useful in your endeavor," 
Erissa said. 

"His aid was important to the project," Latulla 
admitted. "I was surprised that you found a boy with such 
skill. It was a shame that he could not stay with me full-
time while working on the war leader." 

"I am afraid that I have important tasks that only he 
could can perform to my satisfaction," Erissa explained. 

"I am surprised that you haven't banded him, even if he 
is a Keldon," Latulla observed. 

217 



Prophecy 

"My grip on him is sure enough," Erissa said. "I 
performed a few simple ceremonies to anchor my fist in his 
soul. Perhaps after the invasion I can introduce them to 
you." 

Haddad would be just as glad if he never saw Greel 
again. He toyed very briefly with the idea of revealing some 
of what he knew to Latulla. That fantasy he shook off 
immediately. Even if she believed him, there was no 
guarantee that she wouldn't embrace it. He certainly 
thought her heart black enough for the deed. 

"Well I must be going," Erissa announced. "If I am to 
speak to all of the cradle mistresses before your meeting 
with the council, I must be off at once. I will see you again 
at the Necropolis." Erissa stood, and Haddad could hear her 
cane tapping as she exited the building. Realizing that 
silence would only gain him pain if Latulla did not hear 
him working, he quickly replaced the cutout and began 
gathering tools. 

Haddad managed to follow Latulla till mid-afternoon, 
carrying out orders, relaying messages, and not provoking 
another lesson in pain. It was something of a personal best. 
Soon it was time for Latulla and household to depart for 
the Necropolis. There were seven heavy wagons of just her 
personal baggage, and Haddad found it an interesting 
contrast to Latulla's voyage without a single personal 
servant when coming back to Keld. 

At last the wagons and warriors were arrayed in a line, 
and Latulla inspected each wagon and soldier. The warriors 
stood ready with swords and spears at hand, but the 
commanders and common soldiers looked disturbed as 
Latulla stopped and minutely inspected weapons and 
armor. 

"She acts a warlord," a Keldon soldier whispered to 
another as Haddad lagged behind Latulla. There was a 

218 



Vance Moore 

general atmosphere of confusion, and Latulla seemed to 
sense it, for she jumped on top of a wagon to look across 
her servants and warriors. 

"Today is the start of a new era," she called. "The witch 
kings sleep until Keld can call them forth. We will call 
them forth! The wagons hold the means to raise the kings, 
and I know it is time to awaken them. We are the first 
units of an army that will sweep the world under our feet as 
the witch kings lead us to victory." She raised her arms and 
shouted, "To the Necropolis!" She jumped down and ran to 
her colos steed. The convoy moved out of the gate with 
Latulla leading. Haddad wondered at the mood of the 
soldiers. There had been only a half-hearted cheer, and 
every gray face seemed lost in thought as Latulla's crusade 
began. 

* * * * * 

Another party joined Latulla's on the road, and Haddad 
had his first pleasant surprise in quite some time. He 
overheard two guards talking. 

"The warlord killed a sea beast that devoured 
everything," one warrior said. "Though crippled by his 
injuries and old wounds, he turned the tide of the battle." 

"He was a great captain years ago against the giants. 

Perhaps these new victories will propel Druik and his 
retainers to glory and command once again." 

At the mention of Druik, Haddad hurried toward the 
new arrivals. The wagons did bear Lord Druik's sigils, 
though the lord traveled in an enclosed wagon surrounded 
by guards. Haddad wondered how much of the lord 
survived the trip to Keld, but his wondering turned to 
merriment when he spotted an old friend traveling well 
back in the party. 

219 



Prophecy 

"Fumash!" he yelled. 

The small slave quickly glanced to see who might be 
calling. A smile lit his face as Haddad approached. It was 
strange to see Fumash's teeth the same yellow as the other 
slaves rather than the rich black Haddad remembered. The 
former customs inspector had a long scar on one side of his 
face, hooking from the eye to his mouth. He looked 
altogether more dangerous than before. 

"Haddad, I thought you long dead or lost here in the 
north," Fumash said. An overseer came hurrying toward 
the pair, and Haddad lifted his sleeve to show the bronze 
armlet. 

"I see you have moved up in the world while I have 
moved down," Fumash commented, his smile vanishing as 
he saw Haddad's symbol of special status. 

"What do you mean? Don't you still serve Lord Druik?" 
Haddad asked. 

"I have not seen Druik since he was sealed up in stasis. 
When I was decanted in Keld, Latulla had taken him to 
some remote place to recuperate. I was left to the 
welcoming arms of Yacuta, Druik's female business 
manager, social secretary, and other wifely equivalents." 
Fumash shook his head and continued, "In Jamuraa my 
skills were valuable, but in Keld where women already form 
an educated class, I was considered only as valuable as the 
physical labor I could perform." Fumash looked stronger, 
but he was still a small man, and Haddad nodded his head 
in sympathy. 

"Now perhaps my luck is turning because it is rumored 
Druik will be returning to Jamuraa, and a literate and 
organized slave will be valuable once again." Fumash 
looked at his friend. "What happened to you, Haddad?" 

"I awakened only a few weeks ago in Latulla's house," 
Haddad said. "I had to build a steel ant for her," he 

220 



Vance Moore 

confessed, his shame showing on his face. "I thought to use 
it somehow to escape, but she has already frozen its 
controls to respond to her. I think she wanted an attack 
dog at her beck and call." 

"Wait a moment," Fumash said, interrupting Haddad's 
recollections. "You awakened only a few weeks ago?" He 
looked intently at the technical officer. 

"At most. To be honest, I haven't kept very good track 
of time." Haddad was wry as he confessed his failing. 

"Haddad, it has been months since the ship came in, 
not weeks," Fumash spoke with intensity. "The Keldons 
waken everyone when they have landfall. Druik was still in 
stasis, but he was a special case. Why would you be kept in 
stasis?" 

Haddad tried to think of a reason that he would have 
been left in storage. He had assumed that waking off the 
ship was a normal experience. Now it was unusual, and the 
former League soldier didn't like the vulnerability that he 
felt. 

"The first thing I remember is waking up in a bed, fully 
dressed, in a private room in Latulla's house. The 
housekeeper came in while I was up and put me straight to 
work building Latulla's ant." It did sound strange now that 
he related it aloud. 

"From what I experienced and from what others have 
told me, waking up out of stasis is not something you 
forget. You gasp for air as the smoke fills your lungs. And as 
for dressing you in new clothes, a man in stasis is as solidly 
unbending as rock. None of this makes sense," Fumash said 
emphatically. 

Haddad leaned a little closer and spoke in a whisper, 
not caring how suspicious it looked to whoever might be 
watching. He tapped the metal circling his arm. 

221 



Prophecy 

"The band inflicts pain, my friend. When Latulla 
wishes, I writhe and wish for death." Haddad paused. 
"Perhaps I was kept in stasis until she could attach this 
leash." He struck the armband hard and then shook his 
hand to ease the pain in his fingers. 

"It is possible," Fumash conceded. "The other possibility 
is that you were awake earlier but have somehow forgotten 
everything that occurred." Fumash glanced over his 
shoulder and stepped away. "My mistress approaches." 

Yacuta rode forward on a colos to see who the strange 
slave was. When she saw the armband with Latulla's mark, 
she rode no closer but stared at Fumash and Haddad with 
lidded eyes. Realizing that an extended conversation would 
lead to an equally extended interrogation for Fumash, 
Haddad cut their talk short and walked quickly back to the 
wagon containing his gear. 

How could he find out what happened? No matter 
what, one thing was sure. If he was awakened earlier than 
he thought, then Latulla and Iola had conspired to keep 
him ignorant. 

* * * * * 

The convoy made good mileage that day. Latulla 
arranged accommodations by taking the wagons to the 
largest house in the area and expelling the owners and 
their chattel. The country was rocky, and each great house 
stood alone or far from its neighbors. Haddad was seeing a 
land without the cities and towns or even villages that he 
had expected. 

Every day brought another brooding, massive peaked 
house into view as Latulla settled in for the night. She took 
the lord's rooms and sent servants scuttling out of the way. 
In the hinterlands, no one dared refuse her, so a series of 

222 



Vance Moore 

houses were abandoned to her use. Soon they drew near 
the Necropolis, and the land and people began to change. 
Now the houses were closer together, and Haddad began to 
see signs of trade on the road. Latulla now picked the 
smaller houses, instead of the largest ones, to occupy. 
Warlords watched and drilled their soldiers as Latulla 
passed their dwellings. Latulla's reputation as a sudden 
guest made her few allies, but no one openly opposed the 
column's passage. 

As the march continued, Haddad was able to speak to 
Fumash several more times. The two friends wandered far 
to the left of the column and paralleled the main party. 
Fumash seemed particularly despondent, and Haddad asked 
him to explain the march, hoping the role of instructor 
might improve his friend's mood. 

"Latulla and her supporters believe that the death of the 
Witch King Kreig marked the end of the Second Cycle of 
Blood and the beginning of a new cycle," Fumash said, 
looking toward the column and then back to Haddad. "The 
first cycle was the mixing of ancient warrior races in the 
time of the Heroes. Tribes and nations congealed to form 
the early Keldons. Then the second cycle marked the 
forging of the witch kings. The final years of the cycle 
birthed the greatest of the witch kings through training and 
breeding. Kreig was the result of generations, and many 
Keldons believe that the enemies of the Second Cycle 
attacked Keld to stop Kreig and the emergence of a perfect 
people." 

Haddad laughed. Perfect was not a word that he would 
apply to such bloodthirsty barbarians. 

"Remember," Fumash said, "this is what Latulla and her 
faction professes. They believe that Kreig was the ultimate 
warrior, and when he fell, the Second Cycle ended. The 
Third Cycle is the creation of an army to conquer the 

223 



Prophecy 

world. Now every man is a warrior, and the females have 
the responsibility of running the nation. The cradle houses 
arose to allow the expansion of Keld through careful 
breeding with captured women of spirit and ability. It 
allowed the Keldon women to run the rest of the society 
while Keldons were pulled from the wombs of captured 
women. Now more and more warriors swell the Keldon 
ranks every year, and many believe Keld should march and 
conquer the globe. Every cycle to date has ended in a sea of 
blood, and Latulla and her allies are desperate for a war. 
They believe that an enemy will pull Keld down once 
more, and generations might pass before the nation will 
rise again. They want the war now while they are strong." 

"But why this march to the Necropolis?" Haddad asked. 
"They are already fighting throughout the world. This call 
for battle seems superfluous." 

"In recent months there have been outbreaks of disease 
among the cradle women and poor harvests in some of the 
holdings. Latulla has seized on this as a sign that the final 
battle is approaching, and she acts to take advantage. But 
the closer we get to the Necropolis, the fewer supporters 
she has. Yacuta right now rides to houses to find supporters 
for Latulla in Druik's name. She finds very few, and her 
temper grows more foul by the day." Even as Fumash spoke, 
Haddad could see Yacuta returning. His companion 
immediately turned and walked toward the column. 
Haddad followed behind, wondering at this sudden turn. 

"It is best not to be noticed in bad times," Fumash said 
as he rejoined the outriders of Druik's party. "Remember 
Haddad, we are nearing the heart of the enemy, and 
nothing is more dangerous than drawing attention." 

* * * * * 

224 



Vance Moore 

It was growing dark under a cloudy sky. For the first 
time, Latulla's party had not received use of a house. Scouts 
had returned to the column with news that no housing 
would be made available to the artificer. Haddad believed 
that only the proximity of the Necropolis and the need not 
to alienate possible supporters prevented Latulla from 
falling upon a house and slaughtering the inhabitants for 
shelter. Warriors circled fires as slaves hunted for ground to 
sleep on. Blankets and extra clothing were pulled from the 
wagons as many prepared for the night. Latulla's slaves 
were fairly close to a circle of young warriors. The League 
technician's eyes locked on one of the figures seated around 
the fire. 

Haddad watched Greel. The familiar had grown more. 
He towered over many of the slaves and was as tall as many 
of the warriors. He was slender and his face was narrow. A 
predatory smile showed on his face as he looked from 
warrior to warrior. As Haddad passed, Greel winked at the 
League officer and laid his hand on the warrior next to 
him. The warrior started coughing, and Haddad could see 
Greel squeezing the warrior's arm in apparent concern. To 
Haddad, Greel was checking the quality of the meat. As 
the coughing increased, Greel showed a small expression of 
disgust, as if the meat was slightly off. Haddad crowded into 
the group of sleeping slaves rather than staying apart as his 
custom. He pulled his hidden knife from his wallet and 
tried to sleep. He could see Greel's smile behind his closed 
eyelids, and he didn't get any rest. 

How long Haddad lay with his eyes open he could not 
say, but he was wide-awake when sudden motion caught 
the edge of his vision. Two men stood not ten yards away. 
A wave of ice seemed to sweep over him as he recognized a 
face. 

225 



Prophecy 

Greel held his hand over his companion's mouth. The 
Keldon warrior was taller and heavier than the familiar but 
looked as helpless as a rabbit. The fighter tossed his head 
and tried to scream, but no sound issued. An absolute 
stillness covered the camp, and Haddad could barely grip 
his knife as he watched the Keldon's legs churning the 
ground. He could hear nothing, and the rest of the slaves 
slept on, oblivious. Haddad was frozen with more than fear. 
He could not even blink or avert his eyes. Like a dream, 
the attack continued, and no one could see it except 
Haddad. Greel pulled the warrior closer and began to sink 
down. The warrior's back arched, and the sudden stillness 
of his legs signaled the breaking of his back. In silence, the 
victim's arms flailed. The struggles grew more frenetic as 
Greel gripped the man's shoulders and squeezed. The 
warrior's mouth was open in scream, but still nothing could 
be heard. Then Greel crouched over the still body, and 
Haddad blinked. The sounds of the camp returned like a 
sudden clap of thunder. Haddad could hear the horses and 
colos at the edge of the camp. A few of the sleeping slaves 
around him groaned and turned over. Greel stood, shaking 
out his cloak and then hauling the cooling corpse up and 
draping a shattered arm over his shoulder. His eyes lifted 
from his victim and stared at Haddad. For a long moment 
Greel looked at the technician and then smiled. He backed 
away, the corpse dragging at his side. 

The morning saw many of the slaves complaining of 
aching joints and tiredness. Greel was nowhere to be seen. 
There was no outcry over the missing warrior, and Haddad 
wondered if Latulla was covering for the monster. Several 
of the livestock had died as well during the night, and 
Haddad thought it amusing that the death of the animals 
was marked with swearing and questions while the 

226 



Vance Moore 

disappearance of a man was ignored. Haddad wondered if 
Greel was connected with the animal deaths as well. 

For several days they had been drawing closer to a 
cluster of hills surrounding a mountain. As they came 
closer, Haddad noticed that the mountain was surprisingly 
regular. Finally, he realized that the mountain was the 
Keldon Necropolis, city of the witch kings. 

Latulla was marching on the center of religious, 
political, and military power of the Keldon nation. Each 
great building that they passed was merely a gatehouse to 
galleries under the earth. They passed an empty sealed 
barrack that waited for the witch king's armies. It reminded 
Haddad of the badlands. It lacked life, and the column's 
presence seemed an intrusion. The landscape dwarfed 
mortal men, and Latulla's supporters grew fewer the closer 
they came to the Warlords' Council. At last the entrance 
to the Council Hall appeared. A mighty fortress with walls 
thirty feet high, great towers supported the corners of the 
wall, and the gatehouse sat at the bottom of a steep ramp 
leading to the central keep. The heart of the fortress jutted 
directly out of the mountain rock, as if the mountain had 
half swallowed the building. Latulla stopped. No one was 
visible, and the gates were closed. She advanced, looking 
for someone to announce her. 

"I seek an audience with the council!" she yelled, and 
her voice echoed, the sound mocking. 

Slowly, a sally port opened and out stepped a woman. 
She wore a gray cloak with the hood thrown back, her 
dress a faded red. At her breast was the sign of a cradle 
mistress that Haddad could see as she moved forward. An 
iron-shod staff was in her hands, its haft covered in runes. 
Her face appeared unlined, and only her voice hinted at 
her age as she spoke. 

227 



Prophecy 

"I, Gorsha, greet you. As a servant to the Witch King 
Council, I await your reasons for intruding." 

Latulla's servants and allies drew away, leaving her 
isolated. 

"These are the final days," Latulla declared as all eyes 
locked on her. "Keld is failing! The warriors who should 
carry on our legacy die in the cradle houses. The armies 
and navies of lesser nations thwart us. The legacy of heroes 
is being stolen, and we are locked in futile argument! My 
own house is torn with fights over when the hour of the 
final days will occur." 

There was a long pause. Gorsha showed nothing except 
a slight frown. 

"It is time to march! Time to take control of our destiny 
and wake the witch kings of old!" 

Latulla's supporters began shouting. "Wake the kings! 
Wake the kings!" 

Gorsha raised her staff and brought it down on the 
stone cobbles. The resulting noise screamed right across the 
mind and sanity. Haddad could almost hear his bones 
wincing at the sound. 

"Very impressive," was Gorsha's measured response to 
Latulla's oration. "But shouts will not wake the kings, or 
they would have risen long ago. The final days cannot 
occur until the witch kings rise. The council finds you 
unpersuasive and foolish." She shook her head from side to 
side as if chiding a child. 

"Then you shall have proof that I can do what I have 
promised," Latulla answered. "Many of the witch kings are 
shattered in body and must be healed before they can rise. I 
present Lord Druik to prove that such miracles are 
possible." 

Druik's brave actions in saving the ship on its way to 
Keld had expanded until he was a mighty hero in many 

228 



Vance Moore 

Keldon eyes. The fact that he suffered grievous wounds 
only increased his stature. All held their breath as the 
covers on Druik's wagon lifted, and the giant walked out. 

The war leader wore heavy armor and surveyed the 
crowd. Haddad wondered what trick was being played as 
Druik came closer. He heard the light whisper of sliding 
cables as the warlord turned, sweeping the Keldons with his 
gaze. Druik was as crippled as ever, but somehow Latulla 
had created a set of armor that he could pilot. Haddad's 
eyes focused on a raised blister on the armor's breast. 
Haddad knew where the powerstone was, and more details 
on Druik's armor flooded into his mind. Haddad knew now 
that he had woken and helped Latulla construct the armor. 
Glimpses of weeks working on Druik played through his 
mind. Latulla had crushed his memories, and only now did 
Haddad realize how deep her control over him ran. 

Gorsha stepped away from the gate and approached 
Latulla. An uneasy muttering broke out, and Haddad 
wondered if this signaled some break in tradition. Each step 
she took raised the tension, and he could see Latulla 
bracing herself for battle. Gorsha stopped, and when she 
spoke, only the closest could hear her. 

"A masterful performance, but I am not impressed by 
your puppet," Gorsha said coldly. "I will not allow you to 
pass, and if you force your way through, the council will 
destroy you and your allies." 

"I will not back down," Latulla said softly. "The kings 
will rise under my hands." Her eyes shone at the idea. 

Gorsha's distasteful grimace told Haddad that Latulla's 
quest was hopeless. The council servant stepped back and 
called to the crowd. 

"Latulla's demands are rejected!" Gorsha cried. "Her 
mad schemes are to be opposed by all true sons and 
daughters of Keld. I challenge her now." Gorsha spoke 

229 



Prophecy 

more quietly. "Win and the council might hear your plea, 
but lose and your cause falls with you. Your supporters will 
depart, and never again will a crowd cry to 'wake the 
kings.' " 

"I accept!" Latulla yelled. "Let the strongest prevail!" 

Though the day was drawing to a close, the entire party 
turned and followed the two matriarchs as the pair walked 
down the path. Still there was no sign of the council, and 
more warriors and women were leaving Latulla's entourage. 
Haddad could see his master growing more and more angry 
at each defection. Fumash won free of Yacuta and hurried 
over to Haddad. 

"It is a contest of magical strength," he told Haddad. 
"When they find a large enough space the combat will 
begin. I have heard other slaves describing the fights." 

"You think there would be a ring or formal arena," 
Haddad said as the company turned toward an open area. 

"Too much damage for it to survive," Fumash answered 
and then stopped. The rest of the crowd stood still while 
Latulla and Gorsha continued on. Mages and wizards who 
followed Latulla began chanting and focusing their power 
to protect the crowd. Gorsha had no seconds, and Haddad 
wondered if she was a fool. Could Keldon honor be so 
powerful that cheating was impossible? Who would enforce 
the rules of the duel? 

Latulla struck while the pair was still walking. A bolt of 
flame flared from her hand and enveloped Gorsha. The 
council servant was hidden from view, and Haddad could 
hear the rocks around her pop as they heated. Then the 
flames guttered and contracted, shrinking into tiny 
wavelets of flame that danced along Gorsha's staff. 

Latulla retreated, her arms raised and her cloak 
billowing as she opened the distance between herself and 
her opponent. Haddad crowded into the front lines with 

230 



Vance Moore 

Keldons pushing and shoving their way forward for a better 
view. 

Gorsha's staff swallowed the last of the flame, and as 
she gestured, it vomited great gouts of smoke. The vapors 
collected around the council servant until she was lost in a 
roiling cloud. Latulla threw more bolts of fire, each blast 
vanishing into the smoke. Latulla's hands dripped flames as 
she tried to find Gorsha. The cloud was still expanding and 
shapes began to appear. Birds and gargoyles formed from 
the smoke, and they swooped through the air, diving at 
Latulla. The artificer scrambled away as vaporous 
appendages swatted at her face. More and more attackers 
flew, and Haddad thought Latulla would die as smoke tried 
to force its way into her lungs. 

Fire once again burned on the dueling ground as a long 
streamer of flame danced from Latulla's fingertips, playing 
over the smoke creatures trying to smother her. With each 
touch of the fiery ribbon, the shapes burst into flame. 
Within seconds, an army of burning vapors rose into the air 
and then turned to fall on Gorsha. Each creation exploded 
as it entered her magical shield, and Gorsha's protective 
covering was tattered as each traitorous offspring returned 
to its former master. 

Latulla cast flames into the ground, and a blaze sptang 
up. It mounted higher, and then like a prairie fire, it raced 
toward Gorsha's smoke. Haddad viciously elbowed a 
warrior, crowding him as Latulla closed with her opponent. 

Gorsha's smoke thickened and began falling as a dense 
ash, smothering Latulla's flames under a growing blanket. 
Latulla pressed the attack harder. She created a long sword 
of brilliant blue fire and chopped at the thinning smoke, 
cutting through Gorsha's protection. 

Gorsha stepped out of the cloud suddenly, and Haddad 
waited for the magical counterstrike. Instead Gorsha 

231 



Prophecy 

stepped inside Latulla's swing and hammered Latulla's 
temple with a closed fist. The artificer's sword of flame 
flickered out as Gorsha continued to deal out physical 
blows, each punch distracting Latulla, preventing her from 
mustering her forces. Soon Latulla was on the ground. 

An incoherent roar broke Haddad's fascinated gaze as 
Druik charged into the field. Haddad could hear bones 
breaking as Druik smashed into the warriors nearby. Lord 
Druik was running down the mountain to aid Latulla, each 
stride coming faster. Gorsha was stepping back to swing her 
staff when Druik arrived in a long slide, separating the 
combatants. Rocks thrown up by Druik left bloody bruises 
on both combatants, and the warrior turned to face 
Gorsha. The steel ant broke free from the wagons and 
arrived at a run. The council servant parried strikes from its 
mandibles as it attacked her. The crowd around Haddad 
gasped at the interruptions, but no one interfered as 
Gorsha continued to avoid the war machine's attacks. 
Whether by design or accident, Latulla's creations 
protected their mistress. 

Gorsha stopped retreating, and now her parries cracked 
the ant's armor in magically enhanced blows that pealed 
like thunder. The legs shattered, and Gorsha seemed to 
laugh as she turned the machine into a pile of scrap after 
several heavy blows. But Druik still stood guard over 
Latulla, and the artificer rose, her bloody face snarled as 
she cast a magical attack. 

Gorsha's cloak and dress began to ripple and then 
smolder as Latulla directed her hatred at her opponent. 
The council servant's hair stood out from her head, and 
Haddad could see her image wavering as the air heated as 
well. 

"Enough!" Gorsha shouted and raised her staff high 
over her head, plunging it into the earth. The ground 

232 



Vance Moore 

trembled under Haddad's feet as soil and stone shattered 
and fountained high into the sky. Rising, it blocked the 
sight of the sun and hung as a mountain over Latulla and 
Druik. Both retreated to avoid being swallowed by the pit 
growing before them, but they could do nothing about the 
attack building over their heads. The pyroclastic cloud 
collapsed. The superheated vapor and particles of rock hit 
as a tidal wave. All vegetation and animals within 
hundreds of yards were burned, crushed, and suffocated. A 
great groan sounded from the Keldon magic users 
protecting the crowd from the attack. All of them united 
were barely able to stay Gorsha's anger. 

Eventually the cloud settled and dispersed. The 
landscape was different, sculpted into bizarre shapes in 
seconds by the mighty spell. Gorsha stood at the edge of a 
great pit. On the other side were two bodies encased in 
stone. Magic users poured power to cool the ground so the 
crowd might descend to view the aftermath. 

When Haddad and Fumash reached the scene, Gorsha 
was standing tall again. Druik's armor and limbs had been 
blown free, and at Gorsha's nod, Latulla's former allies 
threw the body into the pit. Latulla was encased, and 
Gorsha's supporters moved to throw her down as well. 

"Hold!" Gorsha called. "She lives yet." The midwife 
surveyed the destruction and gave her orders. 

"She has failed. Let her and her servants die and wither 
in far off lands. Let her never leave Jamuraa as long as I 
draw breath." Gorsha considered the crowd. "The strongest 
has prevailed, and the witch kings shall not be disturbed 
again by any in this company." 

Warriors rounded up Latulla's servants and her closest 
allies. Fumash was dragged away by Yacuta before Haddad 
could say a word. As Haddad was kicked back toward the 
wagons he felt hope rekindle in his heart. Sentenced to 

233 



Prophecy 

Jamuraa, another chance to escape for home, he laughed as 
he was crowded together with the losers of Latulla's bid for 
power. 

234 



Vance Moore 

Chapter 15 

"We can win this war, Teferi," Barrin said, looking over 
the defensive works going up around the city. "But if we 
lose here then the League is finished." 

The defensive works appeared to be on schedule. A 
series of trenches and traps grew under Barrin's orders. 
Technically, General Mageta was in charge. Barrin had 
been surprised to see him alive. The landslides unleashed 
by the wizard's covering attack for the retreating army had 
buried the general, but he had dug himself out and fought 
his way through Keldon excavation teams to rejoin the 
League forces. When the army withdrew west to Arsenal 
City, it was Mageta who commanded on the ground. 

"The core of the League weapons development is here, 
and it's next in the path of the Keldons," Teferi said 
resignedly. "If only it were farther away." 

Arsenal City was in a flat valley near the coast. The 
surrounding hills were thick with mines. Metals and tufa 
flowed down to the city for industrial use. For generations 
small factories turned out war machines for the Kipamu 
League cities. The steel ants, crabs, and mantises were all 
manufactured there. A network of roads and a canal 
connected the factories to the rest of the League and the 
ocean port, but it was still isolated. Men and supplies took 
weeks to arrive. 

"Will you be able to hold the walls with the men you 
have?" Teferi asked. The wall enclosing the city was only 
twenty feet high, and years of maintenance and repair had 

235 



Prophecy 

been missed. A few sections had been raided for building 
material. Men under Barrin's orders tore down houses 
inside the city to reclaim stones for the defensive works. 

"We'll fight in the earthworks outside the walls," Barrin 
replied. "We need the fighting room, and the factories 
inside the city can't produce with soldiers filling the 
streets." Even as the two friends looked out into the valley, 
a stream of fighting machines and weapons were being 
produced behind them. Technicians trembled with fatigue, 
and warehouses emptied as the factories squeezed out every 
last ounce of production. 

"I'll have a few words with the war machine builders 
before I go," Teferi said. "I'll bring back supplies and the 
men we need. Is your glide bomb project any closer to 
success?" 

"Nearly," Barrin replied. "With the new Keldon fire 
barges out there, blimps just can't survive long enough to 
drop bombs. If we can work out a few production 
headaches, we'll have a weapon we can use from airships." 

"I'm surprised Rayne is not working on the problem," 
Teferi said. "I hear she is scouting outside the city." Teferi 
was stuffing the notes and maps he had brought into a 
travel case. Barrin looked out toward the horizon. 

"Rayne returned to check on a pattern of blight in the 
northwest. She thinks it might be related to the Keldon 
attacks," Barrin said distractedly. "She thinks it might 
signal some new Keldon weapon or destructive spell. She 
thinks that it's important to find out what's affecting the 
land." 

Teferi waited a moment then shook his head. He left 
the wizard lost in thought and staring out over the 
defensive works growing slowly as scared soldiers wielded 
their shovels. 

236 



Vance Moore 

* * * * * 


"Are they inside yet?" Rayne asked. The scout shook his 
head. Rayne looked to either side of her. Ten runners 
crouched in the bottom of the ditch. A few hundred yards 
away a small Keldon land barge was stopped in front of an 
abandoned farmhouse. Hopefully the Keldon riders would 
dismount and search the farmhouse for food, giving Rayne 
and her group the opportunity to attack. 

"Are you sure that barge contains the blight?" Rayne 
pressed. 

Shalanda was haggard from days in the field and the 
strain of trying to find the source of the disease showing 
throughout the central forests. Finally, the healer found a 
trace to follow, and it led to the farmhouse. But the Keldon 
barge had proved an unpleasant surprise. Rayne was 
searching for signs of a plant contagion, not looking for 
combat. The scouts had withdrawn into a shallow gully and 
knelt their machines. Then her aide gave her more bad 
news. 

"I am sure there is a concentration of blight onboard 
that vehicle. Maybe we can identify the source and find out 
where it comes from," Shalanda said. 

Rayne shook her head and glanced at the scout 
watching the disembarking Keldons. If only Jolreal were 
still here. The women had expected to find a particularly 
thick or heavy concentration of disease, not a vehicle filled 
with armed men. Jolreal and the rest of the scouts were 
strung out toward the east. Rayne did have a group of steel 
ants attached to one of the scouts. The League was 
experimenting with long-range raiding parties, and the 
scout was evaluating how well the war machines kept up 
with the Tolarian runners. Combat was something to 
avoid, but now a key piece of the puzzle might lie only 

237 



Prophecy 

yards away. There was no choice. Rayne needed to capture 
the barge. 

"I think they're all outside the vehicle," the scout 
whispered down. "They're starting to search the 
outbuildings now. They won't be there much longer." 
Rayne knew it was time to attack. 

"Shalanda, stay alert for any sign of magic. Worry about 
the wounded after we've won," Rayne admonished her 
aide. Then she waved and brought her runner up out of the 
gully. The line of runners crested the lip of the depression 
in a ragged line and silently charged the Keldons. Halfway 
to the farmhouse a warrior saw the scouts and bellowed a 
warning. 

The barge was small, and the upper wooden shield was 
open. Eight of the runners unleashed a barrage of bolts into 
the interior, killing whatever crew remained inside. Boxes 
of cargo shattered as the runners' projectiles smashed 
through the vehicle and impacted against the walls of the 
house. Four scouts dismounted, drawing weapons and 
throwing themselves into the barge to secure it. Rayne and 
the scout commanding the ants swept around the Keldon 
vehicle. 

The enemy warriors converged on the stone and timber 
farmhouse, diving through the door as Rayne unleashed her 
bolts. Retreating warriors sprawled in sliding falls as they 
died at a full run. The League scout drove his steel ants 
before him like a pack of hounds. The war machines piled 
onto the warriors, mandibles tearing at limbs and weapons. 
A Keldon held off an ant as his fellows struck off its limbs. 
The ant had its revenge as it amputated the man's arm. 
Two ants worried at a warrior like dogs with a toy, leaving 
a trail of blood and gore as they grappled with the corpse. 
Rayne and another scout brought their runners into the 
melee, triggering metal wings. The blades cut through 

238 



Vance Moore 

armor and flesh as the Tolarian machines circled. The 
Keldons outside were dead, but their sacrifice allowed their 
companions to complete their retreat into the house. 

The door slammed shut, and the sounds of furniture 
being piled in a barricade could be heard. The ants shifted 
in front of the building, and a few circled around the sides, 
searching for access. The house appeared stout, and Rayne 
could see movement through a few narrow windows. She 
rode back to the Keldon vehicle. 

The rest of her party surrounded the small land barge. 
They had captured the craft with no losses, and Shalanda 
examined the interior and its cargo. The other scouts had 
remounted and stood ready to continue the attack. Rayne 
considered what to do. She had achieved her primary 
objective, but there was still a party of armed enemy 
warriors to deal with. Storming the house seemed a bad 
idea as sounds of barricade building continued. 

"Can you move the barge farther back from the house?" 
Rayne called to Shalanda. 

"I don't think so," she replied. "The Keldons have 
turned off the motivating force. This isn't going to move an 
inch without their cooperation." 

A crossbow bolt shot from the house and imbedded 
itself in the upper shell supports. Shalanda hopped out of 
the vehicle and crouched behind the barge's legs. Another 
shot skimmed along the ground and rebounded off a 
runner's leg. 

"Apparently, they aren't going to cooperate," Rayne 
said as she signaled the other scouts to crowd against the 
barge and crouch their machines so the Keldon vehicle 
blocked shots. "Call back your ants," Rayne ordered the ant 
handler. 

The steel ants still circled the house and dug at the 
walls, but the scout called them back with a whistle. They 

239 



Prophecy 

came at good speed, but one collected a bolt that crippled 
its rear legs. It dragged the dead limbs as it continued on 
the other four. 

"We need to see if the Keldons are exiting the rear of 
the house," Rayne said and pointed to a League soldier. 
"Circle around and check if our reluctant friends are doing 
anything. Keep your eyes open for enemy reinforcements." 
The scout looked apprehensive as he turned and raced 
away. He stopped and began riding in a circle to stay out of 
range of the crossbows. 

"Reload weapons," Rayne ordered. The scouts paired 
off. Leaning far to the side, a rider could just feed fresh 
bolts to another person's runner while keeping behind 
cover. Rayne guided her machine to her aide who was 
popping her head up to look inside the barge in quick 
glances. "What do you think?" she asked. 

"I need only a few more minutes to examine the barge," 
Shalanda replied. "There are crates of vegetation and a few 
sealed boxes that seem related to the blight but somehow 
different. If only I could open the crates. Perhaps if I am 
quick enough?" 

Rayne shook her head. "Without heavy shielding it's 
just too dangerous," the scholar said. "If we can't move the 
barge, we'll have to clear out the house." 

"If I lie on the floor of the barge I should be safe 
enough," Shalanda insisted. 

"Eventually the Keldons are going to realize that we 
want the barge and its contents," Rayne said. "I expect a 
barrage of burning crossbow bolts will soon follow. We 
need to move now. Save your energy for healing and 
investigating the barge. I don't know how soon Keldon 
reinforcements might arrive." 

Rayne turned her machine toward the other scouts who 
gathered around her. They crouched lower as another 

240 



Vance Moore 

crossbow bolt sailed through the barge and off into the 
distance. A scout began feeding bolts into Rayne's 
machine. 

"We need a plan of attack," she said. 

"We could send in the ants to open up the walls," 
offered one scout. "It would take time, but we could drive 
them out." The ants could chew through heavy walls, but it 
was slow. 

"We need to end this fast so Shalanda can finish 
examining the cargo," Rayne replied. 

The ant handler reached into a saddlebag and drew out 
a metal cylinder. 

"If I could get some covering fire, I could burn them 
out." The scout was carefully taking the container apart. A 
fragile pottery vessel lay inside. "The other scouting parties 
captured a fire barge last week. I and a few others decided 
to test some of the munitions. This should start a fire 
without Shalanda expending herself." 

"Everyone go around the right side of the barge and fire 
your bolts into the windows facing us," Rayne ordered and 
then pointed to the handler. "Go around the right side of 
the machine and run up to the right-hand corner of the 
house. Stay clear of the front windows or you might be 
shot." 

The scouts quickly jockeyed for position, and then 
Rayne gave the signal. 

Eight runners darted out and unleashed a steady barrage 
of bolts. Two crossbow bolts came from the house, one 
sinking into a scout's arm. Blood spurted out of a cut artery, 
and the man sent his machine back behind the barge. 
Shalanda pulled him out of the saddle and in seconds was 
locked in a healing trance. 

Meanwhile, the ant handler's machine reached the 
house. One ant followed, like a dog after a horse, trying to 

241 



Prophecy 

keep up. The scout paused at the corner and threw the 
captured Keldon munitions onto the building. The pottery 
broke, and a thick, oozing molasseslike liquid slowly coated 
the wall. The scout and the accompanying ant raced back 
for cover. 

"Back behind the barge!" Rayne called, and the scouts 
retreated. The ant handler dismounted and crawled onto 
the deck of the barge. He creeped forward, dragging his 
launcher behind him. Then he sat up and fired a light 
rocket toward the house, aiming at the liquid soaked into 
the timber and coating the stone base. The projectile blew 
a hole only a hand's breadth wide, but it ignited the fluid. 
Within seconds the fire caught and spread over the house. 
The hole left by the rocket seemed to suck the fire inside, 
and Rayne could hear Keldons screaming inside. Smoke 
poured from around the barricaded door and windows. 
Warriors threw shutters open and tried to breathe and then 
crawl through the small openings. 

The handler rolled to the backside of the barge and 
whistled the ants to him. The war machines milled below, 
and then, at his direction, ran toward the burning building. 
The warriors inside forced open the door, kicking the 
remnants of the barricade into the yard. They exited 
coughing and crawling. Each warrior must have been 
nearly blind from the smoke and many waved swords wildly 
against attackers they could not see. Like helpless kittens 
they died under the implacable jaws of the war machines. 
Ants hauled the bodies away, tearing at the dead flesh. 

"Circle and pick off anyone on the other side," Rayne 
ordered. "Keep an eye out for that crossbow." She sent her 
machine toward the house, swinging wide to see around 
the building. The ant handler remounted and accompanied 
her. Shalanda was already searching through the crates. 

242 



Vance Moore 

Rayne watched the house burn. The smoke poured out 
so thickly it was hard to see the building. A Keldon and 
servant tore out a window frame and stumbled clear, 
coughing and teary-eyed but both carrying loaded 
crossbows. The ant handler bolted them, and they dropped, 
twisting as they fell so they lay against the wall. 

"They came a long way to die," Rayne said. Burning 
pieces of the shutters fell onto the bodies, igniting their 
clothes. 

"Well, I didn't invite them," the handler replied. The 
building was totally engulfed in flames, and the roof 
collapsed into the building's interior. The handler whistled 
the steel ants together and headed back to the captured 
barge. Rayne smelled the roasting flesh and wondered how 
many more lives would be destroyed in the war. At last, she 
turned her machine and started for her aide to see just what 
they had captured. 

"I found the source of what I sensed earlier," Shalanda 
said. She kicked open a crate, and out poured dead ground 
squirrels. Each tiny corpse had been covered with a layer of 
preservative, and the bodies stuck together like melted 
hard candy. "The animals all died without a mark. The 
other special crates contain other species of dead animals 
and samples of dead vegetation." 

"So animals are being targeted now as well as plants," 
Rayne said. "How are they spreading the disease?" 

"I can't tell without doing more research. I can use 
these samples to complete my own investigation." She 
looked at the crates with a more speculative eye. "Rayne, 
they may not be spreading the blight at all." 

"There is a connection," Rayne said. "They are driving 
people off the land, and the war is destroying what's left." 
Rayne looked to the burned-out shell of the farmhouse. 
"They are a disease that is killing this land." 

243 



Prophecy 

Chapter 16 

"An army on the march is a terrible sight to behold," 
Barrin said. He peered through the glass at the mass of 
Keldon barges slowly advancing toward Arsenal City. The 
Kashan blimp he rode was high and miles from the 
Keldons. The fire barges accompanying the enemy force 
provided an umbrella of protection that he dared not 
violate. He could see the huge transport barges, some of 
which must have been just constructed, judging from their 
simple decorations and the almost pristine superstructures. 

"I see targets, not an army," Alexi said as she watched 
the forces snaking along the hills. "If it wasn't for those 
cursed fire barges, I'd be killing Keldons right now." She 
pointed, and Barrin focused his sight back through the 
glass. The barge was low slung and trailed smoke from 
secured braziers. The craft scuttled forward rapidly and 
then froze in a new position to provide cover to the 
column. Other fire barges could be seen dashing forward as 
the troop transports continued their advance. 

"If we could, I'd have you fighting now, but the new 
bombs aren't ready and won't be for weeks," Barrin said as 
he looked for the Kipamu League scouts who lay in 
ambush. "The design was finalized last week, but we are 
only starting construction. I don't know how long till we 
can get you the ordnance you need." A blimp swung out of 
a cloud ahead of them high in the sky. "Maybe that 
Mushan will have some luck." 

244 



Vance Moore 

A dozen bombs began falling toward the ground. Every 
fire barge in the line cast flame upward in balls and 
streamers. The more distant vehicles sent skipping 
streamers as the Mushan dumped ballast to soar out of 
range. When Barrin reached out with his senses he could 
feel gas generators on full bore as the ship tried to generate 
extra lift. 

"He has blowers on, and the fire suppression is off," 
Barrin said with disbelief. 

Smoke clouds and particles of fire rose from the barges, 
and bombs fell into a space that cleared as the barges 
flowed away from the impact zone. One small barge was 
close to the drop site and shuddered to a halt before 
continuing after a few moments pause. Alexi turned back 
to Barrin. 

"If you drop from that high the Keldon mages will 
simply push your bombs off target. He should have dropped 
from a lower altitude." Alexi didn't condemn the Mushan 
pilot for taking a chance; she only thought him too 
cautious. 

"Alexi, you're not thinking of a low altitude run?" 
Barrin demanded. 

The Jamuraan mage only laughed. "Things will have to 
get a lot worse before I can talk the rest of the crew into a 
suicide run," she said and then sobered and considered the 
forces converging on Arsenal City. "I believe that by next 
week I will be ordered to do so if the city falls." 

A group of Tolarian runners and steel ants rushed from 
cover at a fire barge. The ants unleashed their rocket 
attacks en masse on the vehicle. The light loads that the 
ants carried didn't do much damage individually, but their 
collective damage shattered the vehicle's legs and smashed 
the catapult in the open interior. The secondary blast as 

245 



Prophecy 

the barge blew only knocked a few ants down as the League 
forces retreated at high speed. 

"Not much of a return for the risks they took," Alexi 
said as their blimp began to turn and fly at maximum speed 
toward Arsenal City. 

"No, but the fire barges are moving closer to the 
transports." Barrin was looking back at the Keldon forces. 
"If we can keep them bunched up so they can't dodge, 
maybe a high altitude attack will work before they reach 
the city. The other benefit is in making them angry. We 
need them to attack the army immediately." 

Alexi only nodded sadly, accepting the fact that 
whatever the result of the coming battle, the flying navy 
would only deal with the aftermath. The army would have 
to fight on its own. 

The city and its defensive works appeared before them, 
and Barrin got into a transport chair. The seat was a board 
on a sling and was attached to a rope dangling a few 
hundred feet under the blimp. Ground troops grabbed the 
rope to steady it as Barrin slid down. When he 
disconnected, the blimp jumped up, and its fans were shrill 
as it climbed. Mageta and Shalanda were among the 
ground crew. 

"How does it look?" General Mageta demanded. 

"The scouts are attacking the stragglers and going after 
the catapults," Barrin explained, waving Shalanda toward 
him as he saw her walking through the camp. "If the scouts 
obey orders and continue their hit and run tactics, the 
Keldons should perform as expected and attack 
immediately." 

Armorers set additional reloads outside the perimeter to 
load returning scouts and the steel ants. The marines were 
loading mantises with the heavy war rockets that filled 
their main weapons module. Barrin planned for the 

246 



Vance Moore 

machines to cripple the transport barges while they were 
unloading. The men servicing the war machines seemed 
confident, but the infantrymen were nervous. Crates of 
rockets were moved out of supply dumps as the battle 
approached. 

"Shalanda, any sign of the contagion spreading from the 
eastern forests?" Barrin asked. If things went badly and 
there was a siege, illness could destroy the League army as 
brutally as a Keldon attack. 

"There seem to be just a few small pockets of influenza 
but no mass kills of animals or infection in the fields," 
Shalanda replied. "I've isolated the flu carriers and those 
who may have been exposed. Hopefully there won't be any 
problems." Rayne's aide still looked troubled. 

Barrin pressed further. "Can you do anything if there is 
a flare-up of disease?" the wizard asked. 

"We've curbed outbreaks of disease before, but I'm still 
uncertain about this one's true nature, and I can't pinpoint 
its source," Shalanda said candidly. "The blight and death 
of wildlife could strip the League as surely as the Keldon 
army." Barrin waved for her to withdraw, focusing on the 
problems of fighting the immediate enemy and allowing 
others to deal with the blight and wildlife deaths. Mageta 
moved closer as Shalanda made for the runner depot. 

"How many do you make the attackers?" Mageta asked. 
The general seemed filled with nervous energy, and Barrin 
wondered if it was fear or anticipation that fueled Mageta's 
emotions. 

"I would estimate the numbers of Keldons and war 
manikins at between ten and twenty thousand." Mageta's 
face fell as Barrin stated the size of the attacking army. The 
wizard tried to curb the blow. 

"We knew that we would be outnumbered. That's why 
we decided to dig in and engage the enemy here." He 

247 



Prophecy 

pointed out to the defenses that did not look quite so 
substantial now. "Make them assault fixed positions and 
prevent them from surrounding us piecemeal. And we've 
learned that the hollow warriors can be deployed for only a 
short time. We will win if we hold fast and force them to 
exhaust themselves." Mageta only nodded and ran to 
oversee the issuing of additional ammunition. The Kipamu 
League would be outnumbered at least four to one, and the 
infantry's lack of experience might be a blessing. Perhaps 
most of the men did not realize how truly desperate things 
had become. 

Barrin went to talk to his wife. Following in Shalanda's 
footsteps, he neared the runner depot where Rayne readied 
her runner for the press of battle. The runner was being 
carefully reloaded, the normal complement of war-bolts 
replaced by enhanced models that would do more damage 
at the sacrifice of range. 

Rayne was part of the regular army now. She had more 
experience than most of the current riders in using the 
machines. Jolreal and Shalanda still tracked the extent of 
the blight and the animal kills, but Rayne convinced 
Barrin that her skill at maintaining and managing the 
runners would be better employed in combat. 

"I still wish that you could stay within the walls," Barrin 
said to his wife. She finished securing loads for her personal 
weapon, so they would be at hand during the coming fight. 
"The light runners and the steel ants that we use are speed 
machines. Fighting in fixed positions would limit the 
damage we can do. Besides, this city is a trap if you don't 
win the initial battle. Out there I can reform and retreat far 
faster than the enemy can follow. I know your plan is based 
on exhausting the Keldons, but I would rather have room 
to maneuver." 

248 



Vance Moore 

"You're right, of course, but I still can't help how I feel," 
Barrin explained. "If things go badly, I want you to 
withdraw west at your best speed. The other coastal and 
river cities have raised massive armies and are slowly 
working their way east. I think if we can just hold the city 
against this attack, the League will be able to fight for the 
conquered lands instead of waiting for attacks." Barrin 
gripped her shoulders and drew her into an embrace. 

"Your troops will be at the heart of any actions east." 
He paused for a moment. "You must be willing to accept 
our defeat if it comes to a choice between preserving your 
forces and saving the city." 

Rayne kissed him and mounted up. Her mixture of 
Tolarian and League soldiers followed her out of the 
defensive works to link up with the hordes of ants stationed 
in hidden depots far from the city. Barrin hoped that he 
and the city would survive the day but felt better that his 
wife was sure to survive. 

It was only minutes later that the first barges began to 
become visible. The Keldons deployed well back from 
Barrin's works. The invaders were far enough away that 
they could retreat or activate their hollow warriors before 
his heavy war machines could cover the distance. The 
Keldons gathered, and while there was no evidence of a 
clear and organized attack, a lot of gray-skinned warriors 
were leaving their vehicles. The wizard sent a runner back 
to the communications room to convey the information to 
Teferi. Barrin considered the growing ranks of warriors and 
then hurried to the command post. 

Mageta's bunker was heavily reinforced and provided 
an excellent view. Communication runs and trenches 
converged on it. As Barrin ducked inside, he saw Mageta 
donning armor with the help of his aide. The metal seemed 
to shine even in the indirect light, and a golden lion was 

249 



Prophecy 

riveted high over the general's heart. Mageta grimaced as 
an aide finished wiping the device. 

"I am supposed to inspire confidence and awe in the 
men," the general said. "As if a fancy set of armor will turn 
the course of the battle." 

"At least the men will be able to pick you out of a 
crowd," Barrin replied diplomatically. 

"I know a better way to capture their attention," 
Mageta said, gripping his sword with a free hand. The 
sword was ordinary and worn, the scabbard of dirty leather. 
"I dug myself out of the grave with this sword, and I rallied 
my men by slaying the enemy. Deeds are what the men 
need to see, not fancy armor." 

Barrin only nodded his head. "A reputation can be a 
weapon more valuable than a sword. It drains the heart of 
your enemies and gives strength to your men. That armor 
may seem foolish now, but after the battle it will be part of 
your persona. It will be expected by your men and feared by 
your foes." A messenger entered the bunker, his cheeks 
flushed from running. 

"The enemy is readying themselves for the attack, 
General," the soldier reported. "The main thrust could 
happen within the hour." 

"Tell the marine squads and their mantises to start their 
attack," Mageta ordered. The soldier and Mageta's aide left 
at a run. Barrin stood to the side as the men went by. In 
only a few minutes the League would execute the attack 
plan that Barrin and the commanders had developed. 
General Mageta lifted a tankard of beer from the table and 
drank deeply, emptying it and then slamming it down. 

"I leave the command to you, Barrin," Mageta said as he 
pulled on a helmet and picked up a shield. "I can do the 
most good up in the front works." 

250 



Vance Moore 

Barrin followed the general outside. The sun was 
shining brightly, and Mageta breathed deeply. 

"Remember that you and the other magicians are the 
final reserve." Mageta glanced back toward the city. The 
magic users were forming a circle on a balcony looking out 
over the battlefield. "Commit them if the army falls. We 
need a victory of arms rather than magic if we ever hope to 
take the battle to the Keldons." He nodded and started 
down through the connecting trenches, calling to the men 
he came across. Barrin was left alone with only a few 
runners waiting to carry additional orders. 

"He must not fall," Barrin said, calling magic to send his 
senses over the coming battlefield. The Keldon camp was a 
pool of naphtha waiting to explode as he tasted the 
quiescent magic driving the alien artifacts. The circle of 
magicians in Arsenal City was a circle of chanting children 
trying to raise power. Finally, the League trenches and 
earthworks appeared—a field of gopher holes that Barrin 
sensed among the scattered war machines. Even as his 
senses tried to focus on Mageta, the attack commenced. 
The League made the first move. 

The marine mantises had been concealed in trenches at 
the front lines. At the prompting of their handlers, each 
lifted out of its hole and walked silently onto the field. Less 
than two hundred of the machines had been constructed by 
the overworked factories. The mantises advanced with a 
few lightly armed marines jogging alongside. They 
approached the enemy without fanfare. The machines and 
men in small groups looked helpless against the opposing 
army. 

The Keldon barges were in a line surrounded by soldiers 
putting on their armor and stoking braziers as the mantises 
came closer. The warriors emptied smoking coals and 
shaved colos horn into receptacles on their armor. A haze 

251 



Prophecy 

of smoke rose, and a light breeze blew the fumes toward 
Arsenal City. Barrin could see the soldiers becoming more 
fearful as the smoke increased. The wizard detected a surge 
of energy as the warriors walked into barges and powered 
war manikins. The Keldons began chanting as they 
prepared to charge, promising death to the League soldiers 
waiting for them. Warriors shouted derisively at the few 
war machines standing before them. The mantises raised 
their arms and lowered their hindquarters as if in response. 
Then with a roar, each machine fired a heavy rocket at the 
Keldon barges. 

A few rockets detonated on launch, and mantises 
exploded, cutting down the surrounding machines and 
men. The first League deaths of the battle were self-
inflicted, but the remaining rockets arced and fell onto the 
barges. The crafts' heavy protective shells shattered in huge 
sprays of splinters. Secondary explosions bloomed like 
flowers as Heroes' Blood ignited and incinerated barges, 
leaving climbing balls of flames. The League soldiers 
behind the trenches heard the angry moans of the enemy 
as frantic barge crews ran into the remaining vehicles and 
drove them away from burning piles of wreckage. Delayed 
detonations sent huge pieces of machinery flying in all 
directions, killing warriors and shearing through other 
barges. A cheer went up as the mantises turned sharply and 
retreated back to their hiding places. Barrin could see 
marine technical troops digging out new loads of heavy 
rockets for a second wave of bombardment. 

General Mageta stood outside a trench with sword held 
high. His armor caught the eyes of the troops and they 
began chanting "Lion! Lion!" as his golden emblem flashed 
on his chest. The fear that the Keldons inspired was 
momentarily gone, and Barrin counted it a victory. Then 

252 



Vance Moore 

he felt the swell of magic as the enemy finished animating 
their hollow warriors and charged the League earthworks. 

The mantises were nearly inside the trench lines when 
their heads turned one hundred and eighty degrees. Each 
launched a small rocket, lashing into the ranks of enemy 
soldiers. Manikins and men sundered in sharp explosions. 
The Keldons screamed in rage as the mantises jumped out 
of sight into the trenches. 

The enemy was a sea coming to sweep the League away 
when crabs reared up and fired. Hundreds of them had 
been buried during the night. The machines fired only 
light rockets, but each crab carried six of them. The 
leading ranks of the charge dissolved into gouts of bloody 
foam as the machines fired in a massive coordinated blow. 
Warriors floundered in the remnants of their comrades, and 
the charge stumbled to a stunned halt. 

"Fire!" Mageta called as he rose once more from the 
trenches, holding a launcher. The general discharged a war 
bolt that vanished into the milling crowd of the enemy. 
Barrin couldn't tell if anyone fell, but the infantry in the 
trenches began firing in a sporadic barrage. There was a 
serious shortage of launchers and war-bolts, but the fire was 
a light rain on a pile of sand. The Keldons were dissolving 
away under the attack. Barrin could see the League 
technicians loading the weapons modules of the mantises 
and crabs. For a moment the wizard hoped the enemy 
might break, but then warlords in fantastic armor forced 
their way to stand in front of the Keldon lines. Barrin could 
hear their shouts as they exhorted the warriors. 

"Do you think victory and glory are free?" an armored 
giant of a man bellowed. "A great people are known by the 
strength of their enemies! Kill for the glory of Keld! The 
final days are upon us! Kill the thieves, kill them ..." 

253 



Prophecy 

Even as they shouted, Mageta was leading men and 
machines from the trenches, gambling on breaking the 
enemies' spirits. Barrin wondered at the boldness, but 
knowing how outnumbered the League forces were, he 
acted to make the blow as strong as possible. 

"Attack the rear!" The call echoed through the aether 
as the wizard drew power and called to the light forces 
beyond the battlefield. Rayne's troop of fast runners and 
ants was out of sight, but he knew that they charged at his 
call. 

The crabs from the trenches slowly advanced. Each few 
yards a fusillade of bolts poured from their weapon bays. 
Some of the supporting infantry knelt and fired launchers 
while the rest advanced with swords and spears jabbing 
into the air for blood. Mageta was just behind a crab 
trotting forward, signaling the advance with every step. 
The Keldons started forward, but they came at the League 
in a string of disorganized driblets instead of the unified 
front that the warlords desired. 

More bolts and rockets flew toward the enemy, but the 
Keldons were implacable now, advancing in a silent rage. 
Mageta halted and dressed his line of men and machines. 
Clumps of spears faced the enemy and formed small arcs of 
soldiers anchored by crabs. The heavy war machines 
launched all their weapons at point-blank range, and then 
the forces met. The soldiers with spears funneled Keldons 
and hollow warriors to the crabs. Massive metal arms rose 
and fell. Manikins and men almost exploded as they died 
under the relentless pounding clubs. The bodies mounded 
up into piles, and the crabs inched back as warriors 
mounted the shattered bodies to continue the attack. 

Now League soldiers were within range of Keldon 
swords, and infantry dropped screaming as gray-skinned 
warriors shattered bones and parted flesh. The soldiers 

254 



Vance Moore 

carrying launchers drew swords. Mageta shouted and 
mounted the back of a crab, a spear in his hands. He yelled 
and signaled for the League troop to back toward their 
earthworks. The crabs slowly stepped away from their 
mounds of victims and began rebuilding their fleshy 
barricade with new corpses. Mageta was covered in blood 
and poorly balanced on the back of the crab but remained 
there as he directed the withdrawal, needing the extra 
height to be seen. Axes and spears flew toward him, but the 
crab deflected them, smashing them out of the air. 

Barrin raised more power, and his senses flew toward 
the general. He enveloped Mageta in a web of power. The 
wizard could feel crossbow bolts burning to ash as Keldons 
finally began sniping at the general. Mageta threw his arms 
wide in defiance of the enemy, trusting in the magic that 
surrounded him. The League withdrawal slowed as the 
general's actions brought fresh heart to his men. The 
wizard could hear Mageta whispering through the 
surrounding magic. 

"I really hope you can keep this up, Barrin. Otherwise, 
I'm dead." 

More weapons flew past the waving arms of the crab to 
burn up in the wizard's shielding spell, and Barrin drew 
more power, waiting for the Keldon mages to enter the 
fray. Then cheering rose from the retreating troops. Hordes 
of steel ants came swooping from the distant flanks, falling 
upon the enemy. 

"Your wife is coming to save me from myself, Barrin," 
General Mageta said to the wind. 

Rayne and Shalanda on their runners fired groups of 
bolts into the Keldons, tearing at them like rabid dogs. 
Wing blades scissored as they cut apart groups of warriors. 
Steel ants nipped at the enemy, leaving wounded who 
stumbled and crawled through the ranks. Rayne had 

255 



Prophecy 

directed the ants around her to wound rather than destroy. 
Barrin had protested the inhumanity of the tactic, but 
Rayne insisted that wounded warriors were more trouble to 
the enemy than dead ones. Additionally, the ants were less 
vulnerable if they didn't linger over their kills. Hundreds of 
voices screamed and tore at the will of the Keldons, 
confirming her tactics. 

"Send the mantises against the Keldon transports," 
Barrin ordered. 

A runner tore his eyes from the battle and ran to relay 
the command. Mageta was holding the line and retreating 
at a crawl that allowed more Keldon warriors to reach the 
crabs. Here and there a machine went down as axes and 
swords sheared legs free, and a crab collapsed. One huge 
Keldon used a crab arm as a giant club, leaving a trail of 
smashed League soldiers dead among the field of crushed 
enemy warriors. Mageta shouted orders and then led 
several swordsmen against the champion. The general 
dodged an overhand strike, and his sword cut the tendons 
on the warrior's arm. The Keldon grabbed Mageta with his 
free arm, and the general battered the warrior's face with 
blows from his helmet until a League soldier cut him free. 

The steel ants still lashed the peripheries of the enemy 
as the Keldon center advanced into oblivion under the 
hammering metal arms of the crabs. Now Barrin saw the 
mantises charging the left wing of the enemy army. The 
colorful machines broke through the thinning lines, their 
long arms slicing through flesh and manikin with equal 
ease. Then the marines and their charges were through 
with the barges only a few hundred yards away. The 
machines ran forward as their handlers ordered them to 
engage at point-blank range with their reloaded rockets. 

Then Barrin sensed magic from the Keldon barges like a 
sea of fire burning. Slaves and barge crew rushed out of 

256 



Vance Moore 

their craft in a panicky mass, and flocks of birds issued 
forth. They circled and rose high over the battlefield then 
fell onto the League forces. As each small body smashed 
into a soldier or machine, it disintegrated in a sharp 
explosion. Barrin could see the center melting away, the 
bludgeoning crabs chewed to pieces by the attack. The 
surrounding infantry died as men fell with sudden ghastly 
wounds. Mageta struck out at a diving bird, and the 
resulting explosion tore at his arm and knocked the general 
to the ground. More bomblets dived from the orbiting 
flock, now striking at the steel ants that had feasted on the 
flanks of the enemy. Shalanda went down as her runner 
was struck, and Rayne attacked the Keldon warriors who 
rushed to kill her aide. The mantises fired rockets, but 
many had already fallen or were crippled, and only a few 
barges exploded. 

More of the tiny bombs launched into the air, and 
Barrin knew that only magic could save the day. 

"Throw fire and lightning!" he called to the magical 
reserves. 

A long stream of power leaped from Barrin up into the 
sky. Explosions rippled through the flock, disrupting its 
structure and sending many of the birds spiraling to the 
ground. The League and the Keldons suffered equally as 
men died and huddled for shelter. From the circle of magic 
behind him, a diffuse cloud of flame moved toward the 
birds. The birds began to detonate as the outskirts of the 
flock flew within the League spell. Barrin sent energy to 
shield the friendly forces, but the battlefield was too large. 
He concentrated on shielding Rayne and Shalanda as the 
rest of the fire-swallows fell out of the sky. Finally the rain 
of death stopped, but the League center was down, and 
Keldons rushed into the defensive works. 

257 



Prophecy 

However, Barrin felt rising hope. The warriors and 
manikins moved slower and stumbled even as they tried to 
exploit the breach. Barrin could feel the Keldons stopping 
as some began to fall in exhaustion or even death as their 
fighting machines sucked the last energy from their frames. 
The wizard's heart lifted even more as he saw Rayne and 
Shalanda back up. The scouts and their runners had 
survived, and handlers directed their ants to attack once 
more. The outskirts of the enemy army could only beat 
weakly at the small machines as war manikins stopped in 
mid-swing and warriors collapsed. 

"We need to reinforce the center!" Barrin ordered. 
"Everyone will advance and engage the enemy." Runners 
ran to order technicians, cooks, and quartermasters to 
charge the enemy. Barrin walked forward, raising power as 
he prepared to sluice the trenches clean of invading 
warriors. 

Then he was stunned by a surge of new magical energy 
from Arsenal City. The magic users had not recognized the 
Keldons' weakness. Magic that Barrin hoped to direct 
against the enemy was instead expended in a wordless 
ringing call. His senses seared by the wave, it took him 
precious seconds to regain his equilibrium. During that 
time, Teferi appeared on the battlefield. 

The planeswalker jumped into the defensive works, and 
Barrin could hear him calling. Teferi's magic touched him, 
but only Barrin's momentary injury communicated itself to 
the planeswalker. Surrounded by enemy warriors and dead 
League soldiers, Teferi cast a mighty spell. 

Energy rippled out in a huge wave through the ground. 
Even those with almost no magical talent could feel the 
surge. The ground began to liquefy, flowing into the 
trenches and burying Keldon warriors and the League dead. 
Out on the battlefield, huge sinkholes appeared and sucked 

258 



Vance Moore 

down the enemy corpses. The land barges tossed and 
bucked as the land danced under them. The Keldons 
retreated in confusion and fear as the ground itself showed 
allegiance to the League. The soldiers who had been 
around the crabs climbed to their feet and reformed as the 
retreating enemy flowed back to the barges. The center was 
saved, but the effects of Teferi's spell continued to spread as 
Barrin watched. 

Steel ants bogged down as thousands of small pits 
opened up. Marine mantises almost in firing range of the 
Keldon barges were shoulder deep in the ground, their arms 
tearing furrows as they tried to slash themselves free. More 
Keldons retreated, struggling through the mud holes 
appearing everywhere. Barrin could see the land barges 
advancing into the muck as Teferi's attack waned. The 
huge craft moved slowly but were able to reach the core of 
their army. 

Mageta was up but nearly unrecognizable. "Cowards!" 
he yelled and struggled forward. Covered in mud and 
blood, only the device on the general's helmet identified 
him. He slogged a few steps, his injured arm hanging limply 
at his side, before falling down once more as he passed out. 

* * * * * 

"We survived. That's the most important thing," Rayne 
whispered into Barrin's ear as the couple clasped each other 
tightly. Rayne's runner had finally battled its way through 
the uncertain ground and the dead as the wizard struggled 
through the earthworks to find her. 

"It was a chance to destroy the Keldon forces, and now 
they've withdrawn." Barrin looked east in anger. "Our first 
chance to crush the enemy on land, and we missed it." 

259 



Prophecy 

Teferi and the support troops were bringing the 
wounded and the war machines into the city. Here and 
there a Keldon warrior was found alive, and troops 
converged to capture them. 

Rayne only nodded noncommittally. She stepped past 
him and knelt to inspect a fire-swallow. It had started life 
as a bird but at some point was transformed into a weapon. 
The eyes were stitched shut, and the feathers were glossy 
with some sort of coating. Barrin sniffed the air and could 
smell the refined tufa liquid draining and soaking into the 
dirt. 

"Those were an unpleasant surprise," Barrin said as he 
looked at it. "The battle was in our favor before they 
launched." 

Someone clearing her throat interrupted the couple. 
Shalanda stood thick with mud. She had been inspecting 
the battlefield and the casualties. She had just come from 
healing some of the wounded, and she breathed heavily as 
she recharged her strength to try again. 

"Seventy percent of the wounded should be ready for 
duty in two weeks, Barrin. But we might have a problem. 
That flu has cropped up again among some of the wounded 
and the personnel helping clear the battlefield. It may be a 
few weeks before the illness burns itself out," she declared. 
"That's fine," Barrin replied. "It will be a few months before 
we can concentrate enough forces to march east." He 
straightened, and his lips thinned. "I think we've turned a 
corner in this war. From now on, we take the fight to the 
enemy." 

260 



Vance Moore 

Chapter 17 

Haddad woke at sea, his lungs burning as he breathed 
smoke from the censer swinging above his head. He 
thrashed and threw his hands over the sides of the stasis 
box. Haddad moaned in pain as his muscles shook with 
tremors and cramps. The crash of waves could be clearly 
heard in the hold as the former League officer gripped his 
head and coughed up the dust from his lungs. 

Lanterns swung from beams, and he tried to orient 
himself by their light. Latulla and her entire party had been 
interred in stasis boxes within minutes of the artificer's 
defeat. Slowly the party was being revived. They must be at 
or near Jamuraa. 

Iola knelt beside a stasis box, and Haddad could see 
Latulla's features in the changing light. She awoke almost 
gently, her eyes opening and the look of confusion fading 
in seconds. Haddad felt a surge of envy and wondered how 
Iola had spared Latulla pain. 

"We are just outside the colony, mistress," Iola said. 
"The council has exiled you here for life." She paused, and 
Haddad could hear the despair in her voice as she 
continued. "All your holdings are forfeit, and your retainers 
were expelled with you." Haddad remembered Iola's pride 
in managing Latulla's house and felt a little pity. 

"Why were we awakened at sea?" Latulla demanded as 
she levered herself up from the erstwhile coffin. No word or 
expression showed awareness of her servants' loss. "We 
should have been awakened after we safely docked." 

261 



Prophecy 

Latulla was in full regalia, and she tested the strength of 
her cane with a few sharp blows against the stasis boxes of 
her servants. She ignored the groans that issued as the 
human slaves clawed their way to consciousness. One slave 
uttered a curse, and Latulla tested her cane on flesh. 

"The League has attacked ships near the port," Iola 
answered, wringing her hands in worry. "The captain 
thought all passengers should be awake in case the ship was 
hit." 

Even though Haddad was in immediate danger, he felt a 
tremendous surge of hope at the news. The League was 
finally operating around the colony. Not only was his 
nation fighting back, but also escape might be easier with 
local forces in the area. 

"Everyone up on deck," Latulla ordered as she strode to 
the stair and forced her way up into the wind. The others 
followed her, still staggering as they recovered from stasis, 
but weakness was no excuse in Latulla's service. 

It was midday and the sun sent rays down through the 
clouds. Haddad wondered why the sea was so rough. Then 
he turned from viewing the coast and looked seaward. The 
clouds of a storm were piled high and dark. The captain 
nervously considered the storm as the ship sailed closer to 
the protected bay. 

"Captain, what's the problem?" Latulla demanded. The 
captain was a massive Keldon with a peg leg, which he 
pivoted on when Latulla spoke. 

"We had word from a warship that the League is trying 
to sink ships in port and block access to the piers," he 
explained. "I am waiting for an armed escort vessel to 
follow us in." 

"I will provide all the cover you need," Latulla said. She 
rapped the captain smartly on his wooden leg. "Take the 
ship in, and I will watch for League patrols." 

262 



Vance Moore 

The captain opened his mouth to argue but decided to 
keep silent at Latulla's angry look. Haddad saw that the 
artificer wanted to show her strength after her defeat at 
Gorsha's hands. 

"Take her in," the captain ordered the helmsman. The 
sailor swallowed nervously and turned the ship's wheel to 
take them into the channel. Latulla sent Iola down into 
the hold to inventory what the council had allowed the 
artificer to bring with her. Haddad looked at the 
approaching coastline. 

How long had it been since he saw Jamuraa? He 
couldn't know. He didn't even know if this was the first 
time he was awake. Keld had made him doubt himself on 
many levels. He looked at the shore and wondered if he 
could ever go home again. 

The ship was inside the channel and moving into 
protected waters. The storm that loomed behind began to 
break up as the ship pulled closer to the dock. Latulla and 
all her supporters were back on deck, arranging themselves 
in lines and trying to appear impressive. Latulla sent 
crewmen and slaves from their regular duty stations into 
the ship's cargo areas to find additional clothes and 
weapons. 

The ship was docking, and Haddad could feel the tone 
of the propulsion spells changing as they moved the ship 
closer to the pier. A crowd was gathered, and freight 
handlers stood ready to empty the ship at a moment's 
notice. As the ship was tied off, Latulla walked to the 
gangplank. 

"I have returned to you with news that Keld is no 
more!" she shouted. There was a general air of confusion 
among the crowd and the ship's complement. "Keld has 
given up and rejected the prophecy that you have all 

263 



Prophecy 

accepted—that this land is the home of heroes and must be 
reclaimed from the weak and corrupt League to the west." 

A few Keldons began cheering because they did believe 
that their birthright was being stolen. Other warriors and 
some slaves cheered because glory required a great cause. 
The rest cheered as Haddad cheered, because it was 
expected of them. 

Haddad considered the Keldon exiles as Latulla 
continued her exhortations. "You are Keld! All that Keld 
has been. The defeat of our enemies, the conquest of new 
lands, the construction of the future! You are the children 
of all who have gone before. It is time to pick up the prize 
left by the Heroes from whom we sprang!" 

Haddad's eyes locked on a familiar figure. It was Greel, 
Erissa's demonic assistant. Latulla had brought more than 
rhetoric from the land of her ancestors. How long would it 
take this cancer to grow in a new land? Haddad promised 
himself that his first act upon escaping would be to reveal 
Greel's nature. The children of Jamuraa would not lie in 
graves to feed the monster's appetite. 

"I bring you the future," Latulla said, spreading her arms 
wide. Haddad turned from the scene and considered the 
sea. Then he saw the nose of a blimp poke itself out of the 
stormy clouds that hung offshore. 

For a few seconds he was alone as the others 
concentrated on Latulla and her speech. It was not until 
the bombs fell that shouts drowned out Latulla's voice. The 
blimp was huge, and it withdrew back into the clouds as 
each bomb sprouted wings. The weapons' trajectories 
flattened, and their velocity increased. Shouts sounded as 
almost every slave ran for cover, with a few curling up on 
the ground and trying to shut out the world. Haddad saw 
them trampled by the running crowd, their flesh torn by 
shoes and boots. Warriors drew weapons and shouted 

264 



Vance Moore 

challenges, but the airship was gone, and only the bombs 
remained to hear the futile cries. The weapons neared the 
water and came straight at the ship. 

"Why aren't the fire barges shooting?" shouted a warrior 
who had accompanied Latulla into exile. The bombs 
skimmed over the ships and detonated among the dockside 
warehouses. Splinters and fiery debris rained down 
everywhere. Chunks of wreckage draped across the rigging 
over Haddad's head, and he joined a rush to clear the ship. 
Latulla was almost trampled in the stampede, and Haddad 
hid a smile as he swirled past her livid face. The ropes 
began to burn, and sections of the dock were covered in 
flame. Weapons stored in the warehouses shattered and 
released waves of flammable liquid. Haddad could hear the 
collapse of burning floors and the hiss as timbers dropped 
among the dock pilings and extinguished in the sea. The 
captured League soldier flattened against the side of a 
building as more people rushed past him. He could see 
Latulla running up the gangplank to fight the fire on the 
ship. Her hands moved, and the flames shrank back like a 
frightened pet. 

She waved for the crowds to return even as she calmed 
the fire. Now magic users from the colony were running up 
to the docks, and the destruction Haddad had cheered 
began to be controlled. Slowly the fires flickered out. The 
warriors began to chant Latulla's name, and she directed 
the final efforts of the impromptu fire brigades. The League 
had interrupted Latulla's speech, but she rallied the colony 
to her cause because of it. 

* * * * * 

It was nearing dark when Latulla and the rest of the 
household straggled to their quarters. The fires destroyed 

265 



Prophecy 

one warehouse completely, though all ships were saved. 
Lord Urit sat within the house, and Latulla moved to 
confront him. Haddad stayed in the outer room and looked 
through the door. 

The curtains were drawn and the lights low as defensive 
measures against air attacks. Latulla appeared incensed that 
the League would dare attack the colony. 

"Where were the fire casters and magic users? Why were 
we left so exposed?" she demanded. 

Lord Urit answered her. The former swamp overseer 
was in charge of the colony slaves and had become an 
important figure. 

"The western expedition did not go as planned. We had 
to retreat," Urit confessed shamefacedly, and Latulla reined 
in her temper with visible difficulty. 

"A temporary state of affairs. We will rebuild and crush 
them like we have always done." She spoke confidently. 

Urit shook his head. "Their armies do not wait for the 
blow. Now they seek to fight." He looked up and seemed to 
stare through the roof. "Their airships range over the west 
looking for detachments to kill. Almost all fire barges are 
protecting the armies and our new holdings. In fact, their 
airships seek battle relentlessly with any barge they can 
find." 

"They may be using their blimps, but we can destroy 
their bases as we did before," Latulla said. "There will be 
more forces arriving from Keld regardless of what the fools 
on the council believe." 

"We can barely keep our forward bases intact while new 
classes of airships drop bombs on our home ground. We will 
have to recall forces and concentrate our warriors," Urit 
insisted. 

"I will hear from you later, Urit," Latulla commanded. 
"Leave me now, so I might rest." 

266 



Vance Moore 

Urit said nothing but bowed and withdrew, his face 
stony at his dismissal. Haddad kept still as the major domo, 
Briach, bowed and entered. The chief slave appeared calm 
and content as he waited to hear Latulla. 

"What has happened here, Briach?" Latulla asked. 

"The first expeditions went well, and many slaves were 
taken for the glory of Keld. There are shiploads winding 
their way to cradle houses in the north. Cities fell, and the 
artificers control mines and refineries for the Heroes' 
Blood. Huge stores await only shipment back home to 
build you an army," Briach explained. 

Latulla smashed his hand with her cane. "This is home 
now. Keld would not have me, and now they will live with 
their decision. Suspend all shipments north until further 
notice. Start construction of factories and a cradle house. 
The midwives and female slaves are to report to me from 
now on." 

Briach whitened at the blow but remained still as 
Latulla stood and began to pace. 

"What happened to the second expedition?" Latulla 
questioned. 

Haddad saw Briach consider his words carefully. Latulla 
collaborated with the military commanders before leaving 
and would not brook even implied criticism from a slave, 
however favored he might be. 

"The attack, from all reports, went well, but the League 
machines proved more lethal than previously believed. 
Their weapons were heavier, and our war manikins could 
not overwhelm them. But the battle was still in our favor 
until the planeswalker appeared on the field and unleashed 
a great spell. He turned the ground of the ancestors against 
their descendants." 

"How many died under Teferi's hand?" demanded 
Latulla. 

267 



Prophecy 

"Almost none, but the warriors had powered the hollow 
warriors a long time, and many fell from exhaustion," 
Briach answered. "The leaders called for retreat." 

"So they were not defeated—they gave up!" Latulla said 
angrily. "At the heart of enemy war production they retired 
because they couldn't beat the League with the first blows." 
Latulla threw herself back into her chair and drummed her 
fingers on the side table. 

"How do the warriors feel about their loss?" Latulla 
spoke slowly as she considered her plans. 

"Many of them cannot accept that they did lose," 
Briach said. "The sailors have lost to the League before, but 
the army has not suffered a serious setback since it landed. 
Many of the warriors are angry, striking out at slaves and 
each other. The number of fights between warriors has 
soared despite the best efforts of the war leaders to curb 
dominance battles." 

Latulla nodded to herself in satisfaction. "Of course 
they're angry. They should be enraged. The leaders 
betrayed them by withdrawing from the field too soon. Had 
the army stayed, they would have conquered the enemy," 
she said intently. "We must act quickly to isolate those 
who would lead us to defeat." 

Briach nodded but with some confusion. "Mistress, I am 
sure that you know best, but I do not know how you can 
displace the war leaders," Briach stated. 

Latulla only threw her cane at his head for daring to 
question her decisions. 

"Of course I can't take direct control of the army, but 
there are always subordinates whose ambitions can be fired 
and directed to my benefit. Other voices will say the 
commands in battle, but the orders will be mine. Call my 
supporters to me when dawn comes." 

268 



Vance Moore 

Latulla went to her bed, and Haddad crept away as well. 
The artificer had been expelled from Keld in disgrace. 
Awake for one day, she was already setting up a personal 
empire. 

Haddad shook his head in reluctant admiration and 
went to his room. There he dreamed of a kingdom of 
puppets with Latulla pulling the strings. He sank into a 
deeper sleep as he appeared in the dream—a marionette 
dancing to Latulla's commands. 

* * * * * 

Haddad carried another set of invitations to captains of 
barge crews and commanders of small companies. Latulla 
had thrown parties and private dinners all week. She was 
still imperious and cold, but many of the lesser war leaders 
received assurances of support for their ambitions. Latulla 
cast her net wide, and Haddad hit every section of the 
camp. But he was not her only emissary, and he shuddered 
as Greel stepped from a tent ahead of him. The monster 
was smiling and laughing as he left a group of drunken 
comrades. 

"Haddad!" he called and walked over. The League 
technician wanted to run but could not. Haddad felt a cold 
sweat as he realized that Greel called him by name. 

"What are you holding, slave?" Greel asked. He smiled 
broadly at Haddad, and that alone signaled he was not a 
Keldon. 

"Invitations to another of Latulla's dinners, master." 
Perhaps if he was obsequious enough, Greel would be bored 
and go away. 

"Let me see those." Greel reached and took the 
envelopes from Haddad's fingers. He flipped through them 
quickly. Many of the passersby looked at Greel. A Keldon 

269 



Prophecy 

male appearing to read was unusual. Haddad usually read 
the message aloud or handed it to a literate slave when he 
found the addressee. 

"Many of these are my friends," Greel slurred. "I will 
deliver them if I see them." Greel appeared drunk, but 
Haddad knew it was an act. Failure to deliver the 
invitations would mean a severe beating for Haddad. 

"I would not have expected you to find friends so soon," 
Haddad said as he reached for the invitations. It was broad 
daylight, and Haddad was growing tired of fear. Greel gave 
back the invitations but still smiled. 

"I have many friends, old and new, in this land." He 
tapped the bronze armband concealed under Haddad's 
clothes. "You could be my friend since you bear this." 

Haddad could not stop from shying away. Greel's face 
lost its pleasant expression, twisting into a snarl. It almost 
seemed to glow, and for a moment Haddad thought Greel's 
true form would burst forth. The fiery light sprang not from 
inside the monster but from streams of fireballs rising into 
the sky. Haddad and Greel looked toward the heavens and 
saw the Keldon weapons converging on an apparently 
empty space. Then sheets of flame outlined a camouflaged 
blimp and its defensive fields. Haddad wondered if more 
than color hid it as his eyes refused to lock on. Suddenly a 
rack of bombs rained down, and the blimp disappeared. 
The launchers shot at the falling weapons, and one 
exploded in a green disk of fire that enveloped the other 
bombs. The weapons did not fratricide but instead diverged 
wildly, corkscrewing through the air. 

Haddad was rooted to the spot as Greel gripped his arm 
tightly. The familiar's hand did not even tremor as Haddad 
tried to pull free. Explosions sounded throughout the camp, 
but Haddad saw only one. The flash was brilliant white, 
and the League technician was hurled to the ground as 

270 



Vance Moore 

Greel keened in pain. Haddad's eyes cleared, and he saw 
that the bomb had hurled ropes of fire. The material clung 
to everything as it burned. Slaves near one building 
dumped water on a strand stuck to an exterior wall. The 
water just drained away, and the slaves tried desperately to 
scrape the fire off as the wood burned fiercely. 

Greel crouched in gasping agony. Haddad could see 
channels of burnt flesh across his chest and neck. The skin 
bubbled as Greel knelt, oblivious to the world. Haddad ran 
as magic users closed to extinguish the fires. In the sky, the 
blimp had vanished, though fire-streamers still shot into 
the air searching for the craft. After a few more seconds the 
fire barges stopped, the fires extinguished as the might of 
the Keldon mages turned to ending the fires. 

Greel rose to his feet as a group of slaves came to help 
him. His features were burned away, and bone showed 
through the charred meat. One of the slaves vomited at the 
sight. The monster's fists crushed skulls and caved in chests 
as he tore through the crowd around him. He ran toward 
the edge of the colony, pulling a screaming slave behind 
him like a child's rag doll. Haddad hoped that a mage 
would burn Greel down before he could feed, but he 
doubted the monster would be caught. Haddad hurried to 
deliver the last of the letters, hoping that he could escape 
soon. 

* * * * * 

Haddad shifted at the back of the crowd. Latulla had 
been closeted with her circle all night, and Haddad was 
dismissed before he could learn much of their plans. He did 
know that Greel was an instrumental part of those plans, 
and that was reason enough for worry. A platform had been 
raised in the field with the stock pens in the background. 

271 



Prophecy 

Latulla chose the spot because it was the largest open 
space, but Haddad smiled slightly as the morning breeze 
wafted over the crowd. Latulla's words would smell like 
manure to the listening masses. 

There was a stir as the artificer came into view. The 
stage was low and there was no bunting or color. Latulla 
did not warm up the crowd as Haddad half-expected. 
Instead she launched directly into the heart of her speech. 

"You have lost everything!" she screamed to the crowd. 
Mutters rose as they absorbed her words. "You left Keld and 
the battles of the north. Many of you were shipped in stasis, 
powerless to affect your destiny. There are no cradle houses 
in this land, the slaves are arrogant, and there is the tedium 
and trouble of working without female partners. Why 
would anyone come here?" Latulla paused and looked at 
the crowd. 

"Because there is a land to conquer!" she shouted, and 
her supporters cheered her with a few of the crowd joining 
in. "These lands were the home of your forebears. Heroes 
and gods roamed these hills and contested with each other. 
But an evil force swept over the land, killing and slaying in 
the dark of night. The widows and babes of your ancestors 
fled north to escape destruction." 

Latulla lifted her hands, as if in benediction, over the 
crowd. "But you have grown strong and have come to take 
your birthright back. You have arrived in the land from 
which Keld sprang and found what? 

"You have found a race of weaklings who hold what is 
yours." She whipped a cover off something on the stage. A 
steel ant lay revealed. "A race so cowardly that it 
constructs a machine to fight while its soldiers stay 
behind." She pointed up into the sky. "A race that attacks 
your camps from the air for fear of your strength." 

272 



Vance Moore 

Finally she whipped the last tarp off the stage. Five dead 
Keldons lay revealed, none with an obvious wound. "An 
enemy who, when he failed to kill you, has resorted to the 
spread of corruption and disease." Haddad had heard of 
some dying from illness but found it unsurprising in a camp 
of this size. "The League has shown by its every action that 
it is the successor of the evil that battled our forebears. 
Will you let them win again, or will you break the world 
and remake it in your image?" Cheers erupted again, and 
Latulla seemed to swell as they rolled over her. 

"The final days are upon us, and the final battle awaits 
in the west. Who will follow me into glory and victory?" 
Even Haddad cheered and chanted her name—not because 
he wanted the Keldons to win, but because this expedition 
west might constitute his last chance to escape. He cheered 
the fulfillment of his own plans and cursed the Keldons 
silently. 

* * * * * 

"Pig slop!" Alexi exclaimed as the deck surged up, a 
gust of wind grappling with the blimp. "Keep it steady!" she 
yelled up the cabin to the pilot. A muttered obscenity 
wafted back, but she ignored it as she tried to keep her 
stomach under control. When would this ride be over? she 
wondered silently. 

The Hunter and the Eagle were hovering beside a storm. 
The two Mushan blimps had spent three days tossed by 
winds as Teferi worked the storm. Jumping from ship to 
ship, he herded it toward the coast even as he wove his 
spells into its structure. The planeswalker was ready to 
expunge the Keldon colony from Jamuraa, and now his 
moment neared. Far out to sea, a fleet of surface warships 
waited to land marines and supplies, but Teferi had put the 

273 



Prophecy 

attack on hold. Through magic he observed a huge exodus 
of the colony's warriors and fire barges the day before. 

The surge of power as Teferi appeared in the cabin 
surprised Alexi. The planeswalker dripped water from his 
sodden clothes onto the deck, and a puff of ozone and 
magic assaulted Alexi's nose. Teferi worked inside the 
storm now. "Signal the fleet to start coming in," he ordered 
in a tired voice. "I am going to force the storm onshore. 
The marines should be able to make an unopposed landing. 
You will report any problems to the fleet." He looked 
exhausted. 

Alexi spoke quietly. "Can't you stay aboard and rest just 
a little?" she asked. "At least direct the storm from here 
instead of jumping into its winds." 

Teferi shook his head. "It's already starting to tear 
apart," he explained. "We need to act now. Call the fleet 
in, and be prepared for communications interference from 
now on. In a few minutes I will start a series of spells on the 
other blimp to smother Keldon calls for help. The enemy 
reinforcements marching west can't be allowed to know 
what has happened. I must go." Teferi closed his eyes and 
jumped. Alexi spun and stared angrily at the 
communications mage. 

"You heard him," she said. "Call in the fleet now while 
we still have the opportunity." The man dropped into a 
trance as Alexi moved forward toward the pilot. "We will 
be moving inland with the storm." The pilot looked at the 
edge of the turbulent cloud and then his hands flashed to 
his throttles and rammed them forward. Teferi had begun. 

The air seemed rough to Alexi, but seeing the torn 
mists and rain swirling inside Teferi's attack she knew that 
the Hunter flew in relative calm. The clouds seemed to 
draw away. 

"Faster!" she ordered. 

274 



Vance Moore 

"We're the same distance away," the pilot said irritably. 
"The storm's getting smaller." 

Alexi could see it now. The clouds were drawing near 
to the coast, and they grew even blacker. Like a hunkered 
giant, the storm crept into the bay. The clouds dropped 
lower and lower, touching the water. The high winds tore 
into the violent seas, and water began to pile up. The 
waves mounted higher and higher. Huge black-green hills 
of water raced from the storm to the docks. The bay 
narrowed, concentrating the attack. 

The first wave hit. All small boats turned to kindling, 
the planks and oars flung up onto the docks as the larger 
ships surged up against the pier. The second set of waves 
arrived. The large ships listed heavily as the sea gripped 
and turned them. Masts hammered down on a warehouse 
as ships rolled nearly ninety degrees. Most ships capsized. 
Looking through a set of magical lenses, Alexi saw a few 
sailors flung from the wreckage to break against the pier 
pilings. The storm seemed to submerge as another giant 
wave raced forth. Fire rose over the bay as Keldon mages 
realized it was a magical attack, but their spells were 
matches flung into a stream as water raced toward docks. 

In the colony, Alexi could see figures boiling out of 
houses and tents. Some went for higher ground as a wave 
over thirty feet tall hit the piers. Warehouses were shoved 
off their foundations and struck houses and workshops like 
battering rams. More and more people ran inland as Teferi 
began to push the storm toward the colony once more. It 
crept up the bay, sending a constant stream of fifteen-foot 
waves forward. Each wall of water picked up debris and 
threw it farther from the sea. Houses were bludgeoned by 
water and fragments of wood as the water level rose higher 
and higher. Like a cupped hand, Teferi's spell tried to 

275 



Prophecy 

empty the bay onto the town, and destruction mounted 
with every passing moment. 

The waves crashed far from the bay as the stables and 
corrals were destroyed. Here and there barges raced for 
cover. Now water surrounded one and rose a few inches per 
second. The barge began to lose traction as it floated. Men 
swarmed over it. More and more crowded aboard, and 
Alexi could see swords hewing into slaves and warriors as 
the crew tried to preserve their craft. It was a hopeless 
battle and under the mass of screaming humanity, the 
barge capsized as it lost all traction. 

No structure still stood in the town, and Teferi's spell 
dissipated as the last of it submerged in the muddy water. 
Deprived of the storm surge, water cascaded back toward 
the bay. Like a draining bathtub, the water left a thick 
coating of mud as it withdrew. Corpses and debris mixed 
with mud appeared as the land drained. A few living men 
struggled to stand, the water abandoning them in its race 
back to the sea. Alexi could see hundreds of corpses and 
wondered if anyone could know how many had died in the 
previous minutes. Teferi appeared in the cabin. His eyes 
looked tired. 

"Tell the fleet to land outside of the bay," he croaked. 
"They'll never be able to get through the mess down there. 
Warn them that there are still warriors inland who may 
attack as messengers reach them with news of this disaster." 

"Surely you can relay that information faster than we 
can," Alexi said. 

"No!" Teferi exclaimed and shook his head. "I must 
remain here. I destroyed the warriors and barges stationed 
here, but I killed the slaves as well." Deep tremors began to 
shake his frame. "I have to stay here and begin rescue 
operations. I will scout for survivors and work with the 
marines when they land." He sounded lost and despairing. 

276 



Vance Moore 

"We'll stay and help you, Teferi," Alexi offered. 

"I have killed thousands today," Teferi whispered. "If it 
is to mean anything this war must end soon. You will fly 
west and tell Barrin what has happened here. I will 
maintain the communications interference so the Keldon 
armies in the west know nothing of this. Destroy them, 
Alexi. Kill them and end this war." Teferi jumped without 
warning, leaving Alexi to carry word of the massacre to the 
League. 

277 



Prophecy 

Chapter 18 

The League army marched east, kicking up dust as men 
and war machines pursued the Keldons fleeing toward their 
home territories. Barrin and General Mageta rode on 
runners side by side as they went from column to column. 
The armies and war machines of the western League cities 
had finally arrived. With news of Teferi's victory, Barrin 
knew the Keldon cause was finished. The only question 
now was how much damage they would do before the army 
was destroyed. The Keldons were massing in the interior, 
and if he hoped to defeat them in detail he must catch 
them soon. "Rayne," Barrin called as he saw his wife 
leaving the lines on her runner. "Where are you going?" 

Rayne looked calm as Barrin and Mageta moved closer. 
The general sat stiffly on his runner, his wounds still 
bothering him despite repeated sessions with Shalanda. 

"There are reports from the forward scouts of dead and 
dying wildlife around the water holes," Rayne replied. 
"Shalanda is investigating, and I'm hauling some more 
equipment out to her." She patted bulging saddlebags on 
the back of her machine. 

"Damn," Mageta said. "We'll never catch the enemy if 
we have to divert to find good water." 

Barrin shook his head in agreement. Though the war 
machines did not require water, the marching soldiers did. 
More importantly, so did the draft animals hauling the 
supply wagons. The attack on watering holes was an 

278 



Vance Moore 

unexpected tactic from the Keldons. Barrin hadn't 
expected them to use the land against the League. 

A set of scouts came in from patrol. Blood leaked down 
from the gaskets and spotted the mechanical legs. The 
blades that swung out from the sides cleaned and sharpened 
themselves whenever they retracted. 

"Run into the Keldons?" Mageta demanded before they 
could make a report. 

"No, sir," their leader replied. "Just groups of highly 
aggressive parea. We have orders to kill them before they 
come close to the column." He spoke matter-of-factly 
about the "tigers of the plains." 

"I know supplies are tight, but I believe that the army 
can afford you shooting them from a distance," Barrin said 
with gallows humor. The scouts laughed. 

"Soon we will have proper targets," Mageta said. He 
massaged his arm and looked east. 

* * * * * 

Haddad sat at the side of the barge and watched the 
miles roll past. After all the dreams and plans for escape, he 
was finally going toward his homeland. Latulla's speech 
gave her the support to demand an immediate attack. 
Messengers had set a rendezvous point with the Keldon 
troops pulling back from the League advance. Latulla and 
Greel drafted several of the remaining land barges and 
loaded crates of cargo on each. The boxes were doubly 
sealed with both Latulla and Erissa's sigils. Haddad 
wondered what deviltry waited to be used against the 
League. He was supposedly part of a ballista crew, but in 
reality he was focused on when to abandon the barge. 

A small scouting barge came alongside at high speed. 
The Keldon cavalry had been bled dry by counter raiders 

279 



Prophecy 

along the League border, and only the small barges were 
available to make up the lack. 

"The League is advancing on the rendezvous point! At 
the current speed, they will engage our forward elements at 
least an hour before you and the main body arrive!" the 
captain of the barge shouted. Latulla glared as if he were 
personally responsible for the bad news. 

"Signal all barges to advance at maximum speed," she 
commanded. The pilot on their barge relayed the order. 
The craft seemed to lower as the speed rose. Haddad could 
hear significantly more noise from the legs of craft, and the 
joints seemed to hum under the higher power load. 

"Artificer, this power demand will exhaust the 
reservoirs in short order," the pilot said, and then he 
pointed at two barge slaves. "See them draining and 
refilling the reservoirs around the seals? Many of the craft 
are not carrying enough refined Heroes' Blood." 

Haddad snorted. Heroes' Blood indeed. Whatever the 
source of tufa, he doubted it sprang from the veins of 
Keldons. 

"Blood is blood, and with Greel's aid I can supplement 
the power for the craft." Latulla was matter-of-fact, but 
Haddad swore that her eyes rested on him. He began 
watching more carefully for a place to disembark. 

The scouting barge thrust a batch of dispatches at the 
end of a long pole to Latulla's vessel, then it accelerated to 
the supposed military commander's craft. The fact that it 
stopped to inform Latulla first and obeyed the orders for 
high speed showed where the true power in the army lay. 

Latulla was reviewing the dispatches and paused as she 
came across one particular report. 

"The scouts have spotted numerous dead animals, 
particularly around waterholes." She thought for a moment 

280 



Vance Moore 

and then chuckled. "They really are trying to use poison 
and disease." 

Greel overheard her. "That would explain the deaths 
we have been enduring in the camp. If the League is using 
such methods, then it must be much weaker than you 
supposed." Greel sounded earnest even to Haddad's 
suspicious ears. 

"If that is true, then their attack will be hollow." Latulla 
grabbed a slave from the crew and turned back toward 
Greel. "We will need to increase speed. I know you helped 
Erissa in her experiments. Do you know any way we can 
use this to increase speed?" 

Haddad could see Greel's customary smile broaden. "I 
am sure that we'll think of something." 

Within minutes the barges were going faster, but the 
League technician was appalled at the cost. 

"More power," Latulla moaned, and her hands were 
palsied as she reached for another unwilling slave. The 
next victim moaned in fright, but made no other 
movement as Greel pushed him into Latulla's grasp. He 
hugged them both, and the air seemed colder as the slave 
sprawled down comatose, barely breathing. There were 
more slaves waiting their turn, and Haddad edged slightly 
closer to the side with each falling body. 

Latulla had stopped briefly and taken on as many slaves 
as possible in a window of a few minutes. The other Keldon 
magic users now drew on her power to enhance land barge 
performance. Like the war manikin spell, it drained away 
the strength of the caster to power the machine—the 
difference being that a warrior in combat could power a 
group of manikins for tens of minutes, and already this spell 
was leaving a trail of bodies. 

Greel assisted Latulla with the ritual, holding down the 
slaves as Latulla sucked the life out of them. Haddad saw 

281 



Prophecy 

that each death seemed to increase Greel's energy, and the 
technician knew the monster was feasting on lives once 
more. 

Latulla shook, and another flare of energy was sent out 
to the fleet. The artificer became aware once more and 
laughed. 

"So much easier than calling the power on your own," 
she said. "You must show me how to initiate the sacrifice 
without you, Greel. There is a corner of the ceremony that 
I can't quite see." 

Greel was frowning with disappointment. He had 
another slave held in his arms in preparation for 
continuing the ceremony. He quickly schooled his face and 
put the slave back in the line of waiting victims. He did it 
with the care of a glutton saving a favorite snack for later. 

Haddad was thumped on the head and spun wildly. 
Another scouting barge had drawn alongside, and the 
poled sack of dispatches had hit him. He grabbed the sack 
and felt great satisfaction as the warrior at the other end of 
the pole almost fell. 

Latulla grabbed the messages with only a blow to 
acknowledge Haddad's aid. She searched through it 
hurriedly, reading each quickly before throwing it aside. 
Slaves gathered them up with startled lunges as some 
started to float overboard. 

"Blimps have been sighted far ahead," she said 
worriedly. Despite Latulla's contempt for the League, the 
attacks on the colony had given her a healthy respect for 
League airships. "Command all magic users to start a 
deceptive haze." Servants quickly broke out chips for the 
brazier, racing each other to show they were more than 
fuel. Latulla looked at Greel. "Perhaps someday we can 
learn to use that spell for other things. For now, smoke is 
needed to hide us until we can engage the enemy. They 

282 



Vance Moore 

won't drop bombs if they can't see us." Greel laughed as 
Latulla talked of deception. Smoke began to billow, and 
Haddad could see less and less as the haze thickened. 

* * * * * 

"Where are they?" Barrin hissed in frustration. The 
scouts could not tell him the position of the second 
column. They must be only minutes away, but the 
reinforcements had temporarily disappeared. He and 
Mageta exchanged glances. 

"It's time," they both said. 

Mageta called for battle preparations, and the men and 
machines began to line up. There was a rolling series of 
crashes as supplies were cut free from the crabs' backs, and 
boxes of reloads for weapons were smashed open. Ants and 
mantises formed into fighting blocks, and the fast runners 
and scout ants circled nervously in their loose formations. 

"Communicator," Barrin called, as he dismounted and 
walked quickly to the mage set up in a wagon. "Get me 
Alexi immediately." The officer didn't salute but fell 
immediately to work. 

Soon Alexi's voice sounded. "Is there finally a target to 
hit?" 

Barrin could hear the frustration Alexi battled all day as 
she waited for the enemy. 

"Yes there is," he responded sharply. "The group that 
we've been chasing. I want you to unload half of your 
bombs on their column immediately. We've lost the other 
group, and we can't afford to have them link up. Smash 
them, and keep your eyes open for the incoming column." 

"You've finally made me a happy woman, Barrin." Alexi 
left to commence the attack, and Barrin could see the 
blimps turning as they prepared to drop the new weapons. 

283 



Prophecy 

Rayne rode up to Barrin. Her launcher was loaded and 
ready, and her flushed face momentarily entranced Barrin. 

"What news of the enemy?" she demanded, eager to 
start the fight and perhaps finish the war. Barrin merely 
held his finger to his lips and then pointed to the blimps in 
advance of the League army. 

There were nearly sixty blimps at high altitude. They 
had been silently following for so long that most of the 
army had forgotten they were there. Kashan and Mushan 
blimps floated lightly in the air accompanied by a huge 
dark airship. The Storm Cloud was the first Negria class to 
fly, and it was a bull in a field of sheep. Bombs poured from 
the blimps and raced for the horizon. The Keldon forces 
the League chased were not visible to Barrin, but he could 
see fireballs and streamers being thrown into the air in a 
vain attempt at vengeance or interception. 

The bombs dropped out of sight. Even over the noise of 
the preparing troops, Barrin could hear the long ripping 
roar of explosions as each bomb laid a clutch of bomblets 
before settling down to roost at the collection point. He 
could not see them hit, but he did see the smoke from 
burning barges. 

"Alexi, how much damage?" he demanded. The reply 
was hard to make out over the cheers on the other end. 

"Nearly a clean sweep," Alexi replied. "Probably ninety 
percent of the big barges were hit and perhaps fifty percent 
of the small ones. They're not destroyed, but that group 
will be a while conducting repairs. If you want to be sure let 
me drop the other bays." 

"No," Barrin scolded. "Find the other column. They 
must be close by." Time was running out, and Barrin 
couldn't say all that needed to be said to his wife. 

"Here," he said, and took a crystal from his wallet. "I'll 
pulse it twice when I am going to have Alexi dump her 

284 



Vance Moore 

load on the enemy. It will pulse just once to signal a flank 
attack." Rayne caught it as he tossed it to her. "I love you," 
he cried as she went back to the scouts and ant swarms. 
She may have said something in reply, but Barrin couldn't 
hear in the confusion. 

Barrin's ears picked up the quickening beat of an 
ornithopter's wings and turned to see his private craft 
coming in for a landing. He rushed toward the craft, furious 
that Yarbo should be on the ground while an entire enemy 
column was missing. Shalanda dismounted and met him 
before he could begin yelling. 

"Barrin, it's not poison, it's plague!" Shalanda cried as 
he nearly ran into her. 

"What?" He had no idea what she was talking about. 
Didn't she realize a battle was about to start? 

"The dead animals around the water holes were killed 
by disease, not poison," Shalanda explained. "When I 
inspected the carcasses and the water I realized that it was a 
disease." She took a deep breath. "I think it might be a 
more advanced form of the flu we spotted during the attack 
on Arsenal City. The League is starting to report hundreds 
of cases over the naval channels. It's jumping from animals 
to men." 

"I can't believe the Keldons would do this. Don't they 
realize they are vulnerable too?" Barrin was enraged at the 
idea of disease being spread to kill whoever might be 
exposed. 

"I don't think the Keldons are responsible," Shalanda 
said. "It looks far too advanced to be something of their 
making. The spores appear to be part organic material and 
part machine!" 

Barrin had no time to digest this new information 
because the sky seemed to clear, and the missing enemy 
column appeared less than a mile away. 

285 



Prophecy 

* * * * * 


"Deploy the warriors and the war manikins." Urit issued 
the order but at Latulla's direction. 

The League forces were fairly close, and Haddad 
wondered if he would be killed by friendly fire. Latulla had 
screamed murderously and pounded a slave to death at the 
news of the other Keldons' destruction. Her curses against 
the League were interspersed with promises of terrible 
punishment for the commanders stupid enough to be killed 
by the blimp attacks. A small barge brought them the news 
along with one of the weapons responsible. Latulla wasted 
no time in cracking it open, and Haddad closed his eyes in 
prayer, waiting for the blast the madwoman was sure to 
unleash. Instead the artificer dissected an almost empty 
shell. Haddad thought he grasped how it worked, but it was 
the powerstone and the command set that fascinated 
Latulla. She calmed almost instantly and called Greel and 
Iola to her for a quick conference. Whatever the result, 
Latulla wasted no time in calling for an attack. Once the 
order was relayed, she called the captain of the barge to her 
side. 

"We need to be closer to the front of the battle to 
activate the weapon. Prepare to move us up with the 
assault forces," she directed. 

"We are going nowhere until I can beg some Heroes' 
Blood from another barge. We have completely exhausted 
our supply." The captain pointed to the slaves working on 
the seals and reservoirs. Haddad knew what Latulla's 
preferred solution would be and said his good-byes to 
slavery. 

Slipping over the side was easy. Latulla's barge had 
stopped sooner than the other barges, and all watchful eyes 
were toward the enemy. Even if he were spotted, a warrior 

286 



Vance Moore 

would not throw away the battle to chase an escaped slave. 
He would get away and circle back to the League lines. In 
his excitement, he forgot that he was not escaping from a 
Keldon warrior but from Latulla. The pain was an ax in his 
side as her rage tore into him through the bracelet. 

He was on the ground and a very small child could have 
captured him in those first moments of pain. He could 
smell the crushed grass he writhed in. The pain seemed to 
peak and then subside slightly. He moved his legs, turning 
his body until he could see the Keldon position. There was 
a growing crowd of warriors and war manikins. 

Latulla's barge was almost leisurely moving toward the 
front of the lines. A single figure left it and began walking 
back toward Haddad. Had Latulla sent a slave back to 
retrieve her toy? It was Greel, and Haddad recognized the 
smile before any other features were visible. 

"Thought you would take a walk, did you?" The voice 
was almost bantering as a boot nudged Haddad's side. "You 
should have known that Latulla never lets anything go 
once she owns it." Greel knelt and lightly slapped Haddad's 
arm. The prone man choked as a bolt of pain stopped him 
from breathing. 

"I think that you know who I am," Greel said. "I think 
you've seen me when I am more myself." Another playful 
slap rocked Haddad's head. 

"I must be going, but as soon as I come back, we can tell 
each other all about ourselves. You are Latulla's gift to me, 
and I always play with my presents." Greel raised his hand 
to slap the bracelet, and Haddad couldn't help cringing. 
"I'll give you a pat when I get back." 

The familiar walked back, and as soon as Haddad could, 
he rose to his hands and knees and crawled back to the 
Keldon lines and the oncoming Kipamu League forces. 
Maybe a Keldon warrior would kill him or a League bolt 

287 



Prophecy 

would skewer him, but he was not going to remain alone in 
the grass waiting for that monster to return. 

* * * * * 

General Mageta ordered the attack to commence. 
There was no time to dig in, and though the Keldons were 
numerous, the League army was confident they could be 
beaten. The crabs went forth with supporting squads of 
infantry. A few launchers discharged, and rockets flew into 
the oncoming lines of men and hollow warriors. The 
Keldons once more had smoking embers and sticks of 
incense burning in their armor. The ants advanced at a 
trot, held back to keep the line steady. The mantises in 
their bright colors anchored the right side of the League 
line. It was growing harder to see the action as the lines 
closed, but Barrin could just make out Mageta at the front. 
The old mage waved for Yarbo to take them up as he 
jumped into the ornithopter. 

The Keldons were closer, and a roar of thousands shook 
the battlefield as they charged. The League responded with 
its own roar. The crabs fired not rockets but oversized net 
rounds. The opposing Keldons and their machines were 
transformed into cursing, roiling barricades that continued 
to trap warriors. The enemy troops trampled their more 
unfortunate fellows as they crested the barrier, but each 
crab had three weapons modules and another wave of 
Keldons fell entangled. The infantry with the crabs settled 
into a sustained barrage of light rockets at the webbed 
forces. 

The ants were not as impressive, but almost as many 
Keldons died when they first met. The ants discharged 
their single rockets, and the sheer number of launchers 
overwhelmed the front ranks of the Keldons. The 

288 



Vance Moore 

supporting infantry was armed with only swords and bolt 
launchers. The ants, when they did not dismember the 
enemy, held them long enough to be killed by the men 
supporting the machines. 

The mantises stayed well back to deal with any 
breakthroughs or to lead a new attack. The main weapons 
pod was loaded with a heavy rocket to bust barges, but 
their high heads held a single light launcher, and the 
rockets shot out over the League forces to kill targets of 
opportunity. 

The crabs advanced now, and their heavy arms crushed 
the helpless foe. The Keldons were held in place, and Alexi 
called to Barrin. 

"I'm in position, and you're well out of the weapons' 
path," she said. 

"Fire on the barges!" Barrin ordered, and he sent two 
pulses to Rayne's crystal. Soon he would relay a single 
pulse, sending forces in to attack the Keldons from the rear. 
Victory tasted so sweet. 

* * * * * 

Rayne was separated from the rest of scouts. Shalanda 
and Jolreal had prepared a device for detecting 
concentrations of the blight and disease. Rayne had 
insisted that she be able to identify concentrations when 
separated from the other two. Back along the Keldons' path 
she had identified a trace. Like a lodestone to iron, she 
could feel the needle pulling her forward away from the 
other scouts. The trail of dead bodies behind the Keldon 
army showed traces, but the strongest concentration 
beckoned her farther and farther on. She slowed as she 
neared the parked barges. She wouldn't follow the trace 
any farther. In fact, she began a slow retreat, for the battle 

289 



Prophecy 

was too close. She needed to return to the scouts off to her 
right. The barge guards looked toward her, and she turned 
her machine. A warrior surprised her from behind, and he 
swung his sword, missing her by inches as she jumped her 
machine to the side. 

"A wonderful dodge, lady!" the warrior yelled, and 
rushed forward, a wide grin lighting up his face. Rayne 
triggered her wings and opened his abdomen as she 
maneuvered her runner. Something like intestines poured 
from the wound, but the warrior did not buckle, he 
laughed. Huge guffaws burst from his gaping mouth as 
Rayne stared. The warrior hugged his sides but from the 
force of his laughter, not the pain of his wound. She still 
gripped the needle on the string. It was pointed toward the 
warrior, pulling at her hand. 

"You're thick with the disease," she said under her 
breath as she unleashed her bolts at the enemy. 

The warrior dodged too fast, and her shots buried 
themselves in the ground. He stumbled as he came at her, 
and she triggered her wings once more before retreating a 
few yards back. She ducked down as a thrown knife came 
at her head. It clipped her temple as she dodged, and she 
was stunned for the moment. Blood poured down the side 
of her face and then dripped down her chin, spattering on 
the runner controls as she tried to stay conscious. 

"My name is Greel, pet," the monster said. Another 
knife was in his hands, but instead of throwing it, he used it 
to cut the tubes of flesh still hanging from his body. "First 
you cut me with blades then you cut me with words. You 
really can't expect me to ignore that bad behavior." 

He stalked toward her, and she shook her head, hoping 
the pain would burn through the fog in her brain. She 
needed to live through this. Her hand grasped the stock of 
her launcher as she backed and turned her machine. If she 

290 



Vance Moore 

ran, the bestial creature in front of her would put a knife in 
her back. End this now and get back to your friends, she 
thought. Then she felt the crystal in her pocket vibrate 
twice. Barrin was ordering Alexi to attack. The blimps 
would drop their bombs any second and she might still be 
in the path of destruction. More barge crew guards were 
coming, and time was running out. Then Barrin's crystal 
pulsed once more. 

"It appears playtime is almost over, darling," Greel said. 
"If I don't kill you now you might say something 
embarrassing about me. My feelings are far too tender for 
that." He looked quickly to see how close the Keldons 
were, and in that instant Rayne charged. 

Every bolt she had left snapped through the air as the 
runner closed. Two caught Greel's legs, and he fell as his 
limbs gave way. Rayne drew her launcher, determined to 
put a rocket into the monster. Then there was a great 
explosion, and her runner seemed to fall away underneath 
her. Rayne flew from the saddle as her mount lost all 
control. At high speed Rayne approached the ground, 
turning in midair. She came down on her side. Her arm 
and ribs shattered as they contacted the soil, and her body 
flipped over and hit once more. Her pelvis and legs broke 
as she slid to a stop. The pain hit her like a sledgehammer, 
and she gasped. She was facing Greel, and the monster was 
still smiling, his flesh remolding itself on his legs. 

"I do believe I am going to win the race to get up first," 
Greel said in a jolly tone. "I think broken toys are the most 
fun, but don't worry. With an audience I am always quick." 

Rayne couldn't move. She felt cold and knew shock was 
killing her. Her opponent vanished from her thoughts as 
she tried to move. Nothing seemed to work, and the enemy 
was closing too fast. She was going to die. She thought of 

291 



Prophecy 

her daughter and the decades she had been with Barrin. So 
many years of happiness and love. 

"It was a good life," she whispered, and closed her eyes. 

* * * * * 

The discharge of the Keldon weapon was sudden and 
without warning. Barrin watched for signs of the fire 
swallows, but he never detected Latulla's weapon. She had 
developed it on Keld after gaining access to captured 
League machines. 

A wave of disruption spread in all directions from the 
Keldon barges. It battered artifacts and power drained from 
crystals in a sudden surge. Barrin was deaf and blind as 
energy flared all around him and drowned his senses. 

Yarbo cursed as the ornithopter lost power but managed 
to coax the machine into a glide. On the ground, the power 
discharge was far more deadly. The League machines 
stopped. The crabs stopped swinging their arms, the ants 
fell in heaps, and the mantises teetered in place. Alexi had 
begun her attack run with bloodthirsty anticipation, but 
her bombs fell straight to the ground instead of gliding 
toward the land barges. They impacted with dull thuds, 
breaking into pieces, unnoticed by anyone except the 
incredulous crews that had hoped to win a battle. 

As war machines lost power on the battlefield, the 
Keldons fell on the League forces, but these were not the 
same soldiers who had routed before at turns of fortune. 

"Fire and close!" screamed Mageta as warriors tried to 
cut him down. The soldiers emptied launchers, and the 
front ranks swarmed over their opponents with short 
swords and knives. The war manikins were slow as the 
magical attack affected them. Soldiers trampled them to 
reach the warriors powering the Keldon artifacts. A bloody 

292 



Vance Moore 

line of battle swayed back and forth as Mageta continued 
to cut down the enemy, favoring his injured arm but still 
gutting the warriors who closed with him. 

Yarbo regained power in a sudden rush. The more 
advanced Tolarian technology recovered faster, and they 
were farther from the generator. He climbed as other 
machines on the plain below twitched. Barrin remembered 
that Rayne was to attack just before power was lost, and he 
pushed Yarbo aside from the controls. He sent the machine 
into a steep dive over the battlefield. 

He spotted her runner as he flared over the mass of men 
and machines. The land barge crews had charged toward 
the main battle, but several dozen were still behind the 
main battle. Barrin saw Rayne's machine sprawled from a 
fall. 

Barrin flew the ornithopter into the ground. Yarbo was 
knocked unconscious, but Barrin ignored him as he kicked 
his way free of the cabin. The Keldons ran at him yelling. 
Barrin raised his hands but not in surrender. Like a scythe, 
lightning poured from the wizard's hands, spearing into the 
helmets of the enemy. The continuous flare of power 
waved from side to side. Heads exploded, sundering flash-
heated helmets. Warriors ducked but still charged forward. 
Barrin had aimed high to avoid hitting his wife, but now 
slow arcs of flame fluttered through the air and settled on 
the charging warriors. They turned to fiery pillars as Barrin 
hurried toward his wife's machine, still hoping to be in 
time. The warriors between him and the runner were piles 
of ash. He reached the fallen machine and saw Rayne's 
body. It was deformed, nearly crushed. Barrin slowed to a 
crawl. His eyes took in her broken legs and the pool of 
blood from her torso—her headless torso. He dropped to 
his knees and screamed. They had taken his beloved's 
head. They had destroyed her body. 

293 



Prophecy 

"They're dead," he hissed through gritted teeth. 
"They'll all burn." 

"There isn't enough rage and hate in the world to burn 
me," someone chortled. 

Behind Barrin, Greel was getting to his feet. Barrin's 
fires had burned into its body, but the flesh was healing as 
Barrin looked on. 

"I killed her, and now I get to kill you." 

"There's always enough hate," Barrin rasped, stretching 
his senses deep into the bowels of the creature. It was 
disease and death made manifest. Like a pool of quicksand, 
it tried to suck his spirit into oblivion. Greel picked up a 
sword and closed with the kneeling wizard. The energy that 
flew from Barrin's fingers was not a mighty bolt of lightning 
but a cascade of sparks. Greel laughed as it soaked into 
him, but this energy attacked and disrupted the very cells 
and fluids of the monster's body. The blood and flesh 
separated into wildly different parts. The monster gasped 
and stumbled closer, raising the sword to kill but unable to 
travel forward on disassembled legs. Bones and a spray of 
liquid landed in front of Barrin, searing into the old 
wizard's legs. He ignored the pain. 

The guards from the barges were closing on him, 
believing him spent. Once more he sent forth a blade of 
lightning, but now it moved at knee level and severed legs. 
The screams of agony were a salve to Barrin's pain. He rose 
to his feet and looked over the field of cripples. It wasn't 
enough. He looked toward the sky, and his mind raced 
higher and higher. Then high over the ground he found 
what he was looking for—a river of air that circled 
Dominaria. Like a man filling a bucket, he dipped into the 
jet stream and brought it toward the earth. His mind fell 
with the wind, pushing it faster and faster. The blast of air 
scooped the wounded men into the sky, their screams 

294 



Vance Moore 

drowned out by the wind. They dribbled out of the sky, icy 
corpses as Barrin returned the power to the heavens. 

It still wasn't enough. The Keldons near the barges were 
frozen numb as they stared at Barrin. Perhaps these would 
ease his rage. The wizard began advancing, and the warriors 
ran toward the battle. Better to fight men and metal 
machines than Barrin. 

"Craven scum!" Barrin yelled. "Come and die!" He sent 
a wave of nightmarish illusion to turn them back, driving 
the warriors where he could see their faces as he killed 
them. Monsters appeared in the Keldon lines and fell on 
the enemy. Mageta looked at a huge dragon dripping slime. 
It loomed over the Keldons and struck at them, spreading 
fear. Warriors killed each other as they fought the Tolarian 
wizard's deceit, but few ran back toward the barges, 
preferring monsters to wizard. 

Barrin was aware of the battlefield now. Mageta was 
closing with the last of the reserves, and the machines had 
reactivated. Barrin's attack spread panic among the 
Keldons, and more warriors were cut down trying to flee. 

The charging of the fire swallows in the barges was a 
shout across his mind. The Keldon commanders were going 
to unleash a wave of destruction that might finish the 
League even if it savaged their own army. He lacked the 
power to stop the attack, but they had killed his wife. He 
could not rest as long as a single one of them lived. 

Barrin stumbled toward the barges, his mind and powers 
preceding his body. Only a few of the barges were ready to 
launch, and Barrin could feel the instructions trickling 
down to the reanimated birds. It was his voice—his will— 
that filled the tiny weapons. His mind followed the links 
already established between the barges. 

"Fly here, roost here." It was a cajoling cry that silenced 
the cold instructions delivered by a Keldon artificer. 

295 



Prophecy 

Whether it was the intensity of Barrin's will or the hatred 
he channeled he did not know, but the birds responded, 
and on release they rose into the air and fell upon the 
Keldons and their barges. Wooden shells burned, and 
Barrin enjoyed it. The smell of burning flesh was a cloud 
over the battlefield, assaulting his brain. This scent had 
always sickened him, but now he sought it, craved it. He 
walked among the barges, weak and wavering. 

The enraged wizard stooped and plucked a sword from a 
dead warrior's hand. A few still lived and fled from the 
battle. He fell upon them, striking weakly at warriors but 
ignoring the slaves. An easy target, the Keldons fled from 
him in mindless fear. At last he reached a collapsed barge. 
The legs were blown free, and it had fallen on its side. It 
had crushed the Keldon commanders and been abandoned 
by everyone. A thick layer of soot was covering everything, 
and Barrin wiped his eyes. Someone was trapped by the 
barge. He moved forward and saw that it was a Keldon 
woman, her face rigid with pain and a cane clutched in her 
hand. 

"Dig me free!" ordered Latulla, blinking rapidly to clear 
her tearing eyes. "Hurry, slave, or I'll have you beaten." 
The symmetry of it was so perfect, and Barrin came forward 
without hesitation. 

* * * * * 

It was almost an hour before General Mageta and a 
platoon of marines finally reached him. The Keldons were 
routed and still running from pursuing groups of cavalry 
and steel ants. Mageta was wounded again, three fingers 
showing on a bandaged hand and his chest bare and 
wrapped in bloody cotton. Barrin leaned against a smoking 

296 



Vance Moore 

barge shell, a headless Keldon at his feet. Mageta rushed to 
express his grief, for he knew how Rayne had died. 

"Barrin," Mageta said. "We've won the battle and 
shattered Keldon power on Jamuraa. The enemy is 
running, and Teferi's forces march to cut off their escape." 
Barrin said not a word at the news but continued to stare at 
Latulla's broken body. 

"What should we do now?" Mageta said, trying to jar 
Barrin out of his silence. "There are still warriors on the 
plains and small detachments across Jamuraa. What are 
your orders?" 

Barrin leaned against the side of a burning barge with 
his eyes closed. Decades of loving memories tried to fill the 
gap Rayne left when she died. 

His voice was as cold as ice. "No quarter." 

* * * * * 

Haddad lay at the rear of the battlefield. Despite his 
fears, he was never noticed during the fighting, his pain 
and suffering lost against the backdrop of others dying. He 
witnessed parts of the battle, but every explosion and 
scream was muffled by his own agony. How long he lay 
there, he couldn't say. Finally a voice penetrated his mind. 

"Where are you wounded?" 

It was a handsome woman speaking with kindness and 
concern. He was so close to home that the pain seemed 
almost gone. 

"I am Haddad. A soldier of the League." He had to 
pause and muster strength before he could continue. "I was 
captured months ago and made a slave. I have important 
information." 

297 



Prophecy 

Latulla's bracelet sent even more pain into Haddad's 
body as he tried to betray her. He hammered his head into 
the ground as his bones seemed to twist and grate. 

"What's wrong?" Shalanda had come searching for 
wounded and maybe information. This former slave 
appeared to be both, but he might die before he could tell 
her anything. 

"It's the bracelet. It's killing me. Please destroy it. 
Please!" The need was overwhelming in Haddad's voice, 
and at last she agreed. 

Shalanda breathed and focused on Haddad's pain. The 
bright core of it nearly blinded her. She lay her hands on 
the bracelet and could feel the tension barely restrained. 
Just a gentle nudge should dislodge it. 

The bracelet unwound itself in a spray of blood and 
twisting wire. The device had sent wires up and down 
Haddad's side, and they were expelled violently in response 
to Shalanda's ministrations. The shock reverberated in her 
mind, and she could feel herself falling toward the ground. 
If she hit, her mind and spirit would break, and she prayed 
to fall forever. 

Haddad could only see the sky and the end of pain. At 
last, a free man. He closed his eyes and the world went 
away. 

298 



Vance Moore 

Epilogue 

Teferi sat in his palace on his island. He retreated here 
to be alone after the destruction of the Keldon colony. 
Almost all the Keldon's warriors had been on the plains 
meeting Barrin in battle. Teferi and his marines had 
rescued thousands of slaves as the last die-hard Keldons had 
been rooted out. The fighting was over when he finally 
viewed the interior battlefield. 

Rayne was dead. A friend and wife of a friend. 
Immortality became more bitter each time someone close 
died and bitterest of all when an old friend died. Barrin had 
won but cared nothing for his victory. He only demanded a 
cargo dirigible be sent from Tolaria to pick up his wife and 
her volunteers. Shalanda, Rayne's aide, was in a coma and 
no one was certain why, though Teferi feared it had 
something to do with the disease sweeping the continent. 
Perhaps it would burn out, but the planeswalker knew that 
was too optimistic. 

More people were dying from this mysterious plague, 
and Teferi considered the old rantings of his one-time 
teacher, Urza Planeswalker. If what Urza had been 
preparing for all these years actually came to pass, there 
would be even more death in the coming months. Teferi 
looked into the darkness and swore an oath. 

"I will guard my lands and the people who look to me, 
but I will never follow Urza. I will make my own way." 

299