Date: Sat, 24 Sep 2011 14:45:35 +0100
From: Steve Denning <sdenning@skillcentreuk.org>
Subject: Chapter 8 of the Gift of the Second Prime

Hello all. Sorry it has taken so long to get this chapter out and so long
for me to respond to any emails. I wasn't well for a while there and it
wiped me out I'm afraid. Still, better now and back to writing too, which
is good. I have, though, decided to finish this story forst before I hit
'Green is my favourite colour' and 'Rediscovering John'. Sorry if you are
waiting for those ones as well, but soon, soon. I need to give each story
the time it deserves and I wasn't doing that before.

So, to chapter 8 of the planned 11 chapters in this cycle of the Second
Prime. I really enjoyed writing this one, so I hope you enjoy reading it.
The characters develop nicely and the story jumps forward to where it needs
to be, ready for the final three chapters. I've played around with writing
styles in this one, I hope that you like it and feel it adds to the story.
I'm creating a universe here and it needs to be filled with legends and
mythology. Obviously the Second Prime is going to be a big part of that
mythology and I want to give a sense of what that will mean in the future -
hence the epic poem in the middle of the chapter.

Mind you, if you think it is stupid, let me know. If you can help write it
better, also let me know. It has been a good few years since I studied
Classic Poetry and had to re-learn iambic pentameter for a start! Not that
I paid much attention to the rules, of course. Still, of all the chapters
so far, this is the one I am most interested in receiving feedback about.
There will be grammar and spelling mistakes, so if you see some let me
know, but also let me know what you think, what you would like to happen
next...

You never know...

Mandijerri

The Gift of the Second Prime, Chapter 8: The Time of Awakening

"Jax!" The Gift of the Lost Boy said as it studied the controls on the
dashboard of the drone they were flying in.

The craft had sounded wrong for about an hour now and the noise, a
discordant hum, had got progressively louder, as if one of the engines was
straining. It was why the Gift of the Lost Boy was bashing the screens on
the dashboard now, hoping that this would somehow fix the problem.

It looked back to its sleeping Warrior. Having sex at the start of the
flight didn't seem like such a good idea now! Something was wrong with the
drone, it was losing fuel in a stream from one of the wing tanks and it was
from this engine that the whining was coming.

The Gift made its way back to the seat opposite its Warrior and settled in,
then closed its eyes and began meditating.

Calm, it had to be calm.

"Lost Clan, can you hear me?" It thought. "Hello?"

"I hear. Hey! What's wrong?"

"Problem with the drone. It's losing fuel. We won't make it, I'm
afraid. Getting worried now."

"Where's Selah?"

"Umm... sleeping?"

"Of course he is!" Lost Clan smiled. "Nectar will do that!"

"Well I didn't know this would happen, did I?"

"No, of course not. Do you know where you are?"

"If you can tell me which instrument to look at I will let you know." Lost
Boy said. "All I can see out of the window is the land giving away to
ocean."

"I need to bring Lost Warrior in on this one, I don't have a clue!" Lost
Clan admitted.

"Great." Lost Boy sighed. "I thought you were meant to be the intelligent
one!"

"Just because I read..."

"Yeah, yeah. Stuck on a drone losing fuel here. Not panicking yet but will
be soon!"

"Jen. I'll come back to you in a moment."

The connection was broken and Lost Boy looked around the small drone. It
hadn't realised how tomb-like these things were before! It pushed Selah
with its tail, but he would be in the thrall of the nectar for at least
another hour. Not good!

It wandered up to the dashboard again.

Three screens looked back arranged one above each other. The top one
displayed speed (805 kilometres an hour but falling slowly, horizon
indicator (dipping to the left), and altitude (dropping slowly from 15,240
metres). The bottom screen showed that the compass reading was 42 degrees,
vertical speed was descending 1.5 metres per second, and the course
deviation indicator showed they needed a correction of 28 degrees to get
back on course. The central screen currently showed a simple three
dimensional graphic of the flight-tube they were moving through to reach
the Green Palace.

"Lost Boy?" Lost Clan thought.

"I'm here." Lost Boy said out loud as it sat in a chair and stared at the
three screens.

"You need to go to the dashboard."

"I'm there."

"Jen. The bottom and top screens are fairly standard, but the central one
is important. It can display useful stuff like your position. What is it
showing at the moment?"

"A pretty tube, which I assume is our flight path."

"Jen." Lost Clan said. "On the right of each screen is a small key pad, can
you see the one next to the central screen?"

"Jen. One big button, a kind of rocker switch."

"That's it! Rock right to move through the screens or left to go
back. Press it right three times, it should move to your position."

"Jen. Doing it now... hey!"

"What?"

"All three screens have gone blank... no wait, the top and bottom one are
displaying a number 9, and the middle one is counting down..."

"Jax!" Lost Clan called. "There's a bomb on the drone!"

"Wonderful!" Lost Boy said, falling back into its chair. "Need some help
here..."

"We need your position!" Lost Clan said. "Let me call the Professor, one of
his satellites should be able to locate you. What does the countdown say?"

"What, now?"

"Yes."

"115, 114, 113, 112... It's counting seconds, I assume."

"Yes. Don't move!"

"As if I could!"

The Gift of the Lost Boy stood and went back to the sleeping Selah. It
settled on the seat next to him and pulled him up so he was lying in the
Gift's arms.

"If we are going to die, my love." The Gift whispered, "Then we will die
together."

The world suddenly went white. When it cleared the Gift and Selah were
floating inside a spherical chamber.

"A warning would have been good!" The Gift called out.

For a moment there was no reply.

"Sorry." A voice said, the professor's voice. "I had to locate you and
power up the system to move you."

"And where are we?" The Gift asked. "As much as it's fun floating around up
here, I'm starting to feel sick!"

"You're in one of my satellites. A holding bay. I use them when I have to
move things quickly or over long distances. It takes a while for the system
to recharge after each move. And I have to hide the power usage as well!"

"Jen, thanks." Lost Boy said. "What happened to the drone?"

"It exploded." The Professor said.

"I love the way you protect us from the harsh realities of life!" Lost Boy
sighed as it grabbed hold of Selah and began spinning slowly head over
heels.

"Pardon?"

"It doesn't matter." Lost Boy laughed. "How long before we can get back to
the ground?"

"Half an hour." The Professor replied. "You can hold off that long not
being sick?"

"I'll try." The Gift said. "I can't promise though."

"Jen." The professor said. "If you are sick it will be transported with you
when I take you out of there. Gravity will do some nasty things to it. You
want to see it?"

"What, the sick?" Lost Boy asked, but there was no answer.

In a moment one part of the sphere lit up and an image appeared. The Gift
tried to move closer. It was taken from a satellite and the camera was
zooming in on a small object flying over the ocean. There was no sound and
the Gift jumped back when the drone suddenly exploded in an orange ball of
flame.

"Jax! That was bigger than I thought!"

"Much bigger than it needed to be." The Professor said. "The drone was
virtually vaporised!"

"Nice. It was meant for me, I suppose?"

"It looks that way. It was a drone that you have used before to go down to
the Green Palace. Everybody at the Palace of Sunsets knew you were going
there today. It wouldn't take much to figure out which drone you were going
to use...."

"Jen."

"Lost Boy?" It was the Lost Warrior.

"Alive and well, although vaguely nauseated!"

"Thank Galaxia! That was a close call! If you hadn't noticed the fuel
leak..."

"I did, thank God for bad servicing!"

"The explosives were probably pumped into the plane through the hole the
fuel was leaking from." The Professor said. "I expect it was an explosive
like Natius-Prime, at least that's what I would have used."

"You're going to tell me why, aren't you?"

"It's thicker than the fuel so wouldn't seep back out through the hole. It
also has an extremely low freezing point, so it will stay liquid even at
the height you were flying. It's also simple to trigger. The detonator is
part of the fuel matrix. A radio signal from any satellite would set it
off."

"Lovely. How long until I can come home?"

"Fifteen minutes." The Professor said. "I'm routing power through the
Michigan Pass grid. That should hide your transfer."

"Then get to it!" Lost Boy said. "It's cold up here!"

****

"Why can't we just build a generator here?" The Gift of the Lost Boy
asked. "There's enough water in the lake and river to create a
hydro-electric station, even I can see that."

"Because we would need a dam taller than the Tower of Gifting and wider
than the two palaces. The lake of water to power the generator would have
to hold as much water as the whole of Troubian Bay."

"Oh. You would have thought prof-man would have come up with a solution for
that by now. He's been here for what, four hundred years?"

"Four hundred and eighty-five, actually." The Professor said as he came
into the room.

"Prof-man!" Lost Boy smiled, going over and pulling him into a hug. "Thanks
for saving me & my sponge, lom!"

"My pleasure." The Professor said, settling into a chair.

"Where's Rocky Islands?" Lost Boy asked also sitting.

"Setting up the lab Lost Clan has graciously made available to us." The
Professor said. "I thought I would stop and see how you were fairing."

"Fine." Lost Boy laughed. "Jaxed that someone would try and do that to me
and Selah, but fine never-the-less."

"And that is the problem." Lost Clan said also coming over and settling
into a chair. Why would someone do this? We have not posed any threat to
anyone yet."

"Which raises more questions than it answers." The Professor said. "You are
being harried, it would appear, by someone who is aware of your potential,
not the threat you pose now."

"Another Gift, then."

"I would say so."

"But Sidian Deserts is off planet." Lost Boy said.

"And is one of many Gifts." The Professor said. "Remember, you three were
created to fulfil a need a large number of Gifts saw as needing
filling. The need to create a leadership for the Gifts. There are many
other Gifts who do not see your little triumvirate as the answer at
all. They want General Ghen, or someone like him, to return and lead them."

"Or just a Warrior to show the way." Lost Warrior said as it came into the
room. "Watch." It added and the screen on the wall flickered into life.

It showed a city in uprising. People marched in the streets carrying
banners and punching the air. Around them buildings burned and the view
showed soldiers laying dead or wounded in the streets, soldiers bearing the
crest of the Princes on their fronts and the insignia of the local Clans on
their backs.

The growing throng of people was chanting something but the transmission
came with no sound. The crowd was converging on a palace in the city. A
palace that was decked with flags similar to those the people were
carrying. They were blood red with a black circle in the centre.

"Where is this?" The Professor asked.

"Labere." Lost Warrior said.

"What, in Delsia?" Lost Boy said. "I didn't know anyone in Delsia could get
that excited about anything. All they do there is eat and make wine!"

"Nice wine too." The Professor smiled. "But something appears to have riled
them... oh." He added.

On the screen a Warrior came onto a balcony that overlooked a large square
in front of the palace. Below him the crowd went wild.

"Who is that?" Lost Clan asked.

"The Warrior Hadrian." Lost Warrior answered. "He has usurped power in the
city. The local Prince has fled, the Clans appear to have collapsed."

"He doesn't waste any time!" Lost Boy laughed.

"Who is his Gift?" Lost Clan asked.

"The Gift of the Blue Bay." The Professor replied. "I remember their
Gifting. He is a formidable Warrior!"

"He came to the Palace to give a demonstration when I was in training."
Lost Warrior said. "He took on the Tronc Warrior and won! The man is legend
among Warriors."

"And capitalising on it, it would seem." The Professor said. "Any news from
the Summer Throne?"

"The Prince of Princes is calling it a local problem." Lost Warrior
said. "Soldiers have been despatched, however."

"And the Master Warrior?"

"Appears to have been taken by surprise." Lost Warrior said. "Hadrian has
called for all true Warriors to join him. To lead the people as they should
be led."

"And they go to him?" The Professor asked.

"A good many do." Lost Warrior replied.

"Then it has begun." The professor said waving his arm to clear the
screen."

"What has?" Lost Boy asked.

"What the Warrior Ghen called the Time of Awakening."

"I have not heard of that." Lost Clan said.

"It is mentioned in one book only. 'La Chonmon du Doman', we called it."
The Professor smiled. "Ghen could read a Decision Tree like no-one else,
then or now. He mapped a broad future in this book, a future that has
pretty much come to pass. The book ends with what he called the Time of
Awakening. A time when Warriors and Gifts become aware of their potential."

"I would like to read that book." Lost Clan said.

"Of course you would." Lost Boy smiled. "But until then, what did he
predict?"

"There will be three uprisings. One led by the Warriors, one by the Gifts
and one led by the old guard."

"Jen. And where do we sit in all of this?" Lost Warrior said. "Are we the
uprising of the Gifts?"

"I do not know." The Professor said. "There is only one uprising evident at
the moment."

"You think there will be another?"

"There has to be. Sidian Deserts and whomever is supporting it, they are
looking for a single General to lead us. They have not shown their hand
yet."

"Apart from maybe attacking us!" Lost Boy said.

"They are the main suspects, I must admit." The Professor added.

"So what now?" Lost Warrior said. "I don't want to be ruled over by Hadrian
and Blue Bay."

"Nor me." Lost Clan said standing up. "It is time we showed our hand, I
think."

"But we have nothing to offer!" Lost Boy said. "A promise of a dream, that
is all we are!"

"But we are also a rallying point." Lost Clan said. "If nothing else we can
draw Gifts away from Hadrian. That has to be a good thing."

"It also makes us a target." Lost Boy said. "Don't forget that."

"The battle is not won from the bunker." Lost Clan said, quoting the Golden
March. "It is won from within the dust and heat of the battle."

"I knew you were going to say that." Lost Boy sighed.

****

The Gift of the Lost Clan slipped out of the bed and padded across the
room. Despite having the large central chamber where all six of them could
share their love, there were still times, like tonight, when they needed
time alone with their Warriors. Time to love just the man to whom they were
Gifted. The one for whom they had been created.

The Gift of the Lost Clan turned in the doorway and looked back at its
Warrior lying on the bed. The light from Gharsht, the first of tonight's
moons, streamed through the window. The light was silvery and struck the
wall next to the bed that Sadath was sleeping on. From this angle it looked
like he had wings.

Like he was an angel opening his wings to envelope the room.

The beauty contained in the sleeping body of the man threatened to
overwhelm the Gift and it settled to the floor by the door, just staring
over at him. Over at its love, its life. This man had become its life's
desire in such a short time that the Gift still felt breathless in his
presence.

The Gift of the Sidian Deserts, despite anything else it might do, it had
promised Traes a love such as this. To be inside that love, like it was
now, it was humbling... and also the most frightening thing it had ever
done. The plans it was fermenting, the ideas it was building, they could
threaten him. Put his life in jeopardy...

Again.

Was that a risk it wanted to take?

Did it have any choice?

The Second Prime had been created differently because there was a need for
a different type of Gift. Normally the process to select Gifts was as
stringent as that to create Warriors. Candidates from within the Clans were
identified at birth. Their early lives were tracked, shaped and analysed
then, as puberty overcame them, they were taken into the Tower of Gifting
and tested.

To fail the test was to die, and many died. Many more than became Gifts.

The Second Prime, though, it was outside that order. Created to be a raw
force. Created to bring emotion where there had been no emotion
before. Created to balance the wrath that was the Gift.

But Lost Clan was not sure they could be that balance. When Sadath had been
in the Resurrection Tank, it had taken all its strength to calm the beast
at its heart. And, at its most basic, every Gift had a beast in their
core. Warriors could tame the beasts, but for how long?

Hadrian, if allowed to pursue his course, would create a world where
Warriors dominated the people - and that would include the Gifts. Lost Clan
knew that could not happen. The Gift of the Blue Bay may be happy with this
path at the moment, but it would take control in the end. It would have
to. Warriors die; Gifts live for such a long time that time itself is
irrelevant to them.

Gifts do not have to be Gifted.

That was something Lost Clan had realised very clearly when Sadath had been
in the Tank. Without a Warrior to calm its heart, to provide a beautiful
distraction to the everyday, without this Gifts craved power. It is how the
Professor had programmed them. And he, he still had a purpose for the
Gifts. A battle they would ultimately fight for him.  The Gift of the Lost
Clan knew that as well. The Professor had created them not out of any
altruistic desire to improve humanity. He had made them the most powerful
force of humanity anywhere in the galaxy. Made them here, on Tare du
Maretch, a distant lonely and lost world sailing the void between two of
the great arms of the galaxy. Made them in secret, his vengeance given
physical bodies. His wrath given a name, a name that would bring terror to
his enemies.

That battle, though, was still to come. The Gifts were not ready to fight
the Professor's battles yet. First they had to fight their own.

So what could the Second Prime do?

They would create a focus for Warriors and Gifts that would stand with the
Prince of Princes. The Gift of the Lost Boy might not see where the Second
Prime fell within the Warrior Ghen's view of the future, but Lost Clan had
understood immediately.

They would stand with the old guard. They would fight for the status quo,
for the Second Realm.

But not yet.

Now was the time of gathering. Hadrian was gathering those loyal to him. No
doubt the Sidians were gathering their followers to wherever they were
hiding. The Second Prime had to do the same.

The Gift of the Lost Clan pulled itself to its feet. The moon had moved now
and its Warrior had folded his wings along the edge of the bed. Still
beautiful.

Still beautiful.

The Gift sighed as it turned and left the room, its belly now rumbling
audibly. Food now, then all six of them would form the concert. The call
would go out and the Palace of the Green Forest would be the rallying
point.

If this was to be the Time of Awakening, then it was time the Second Prime
woke up.

****

"What?" The Gift of the Lost Warrior muttered as it turned in its sleep.

"Pahtron!" The voice called, more urgent now.

"I'm awake." Lost Warrior said sitting up in the bed.

It was still early, the moons had left the sky in darkness, but the sun was
nowhere near cresting the horizon yet. The Palace though, the Palace was a
cacophony of sound. Why hadn't it heard this before?

"What's wrong?" The Gift asked almost falling out of bed.

"A fire, Pahtron!" The tie said. "It started in one of the generator rooms
but has spread quickly. The whole ground floor is ablaze!"

"You have told the others?"

"They are being woken now."

"Very well. What is the plan?"

"We have readied a drone for you all, it is on the roof. Go to it now with
the Warrior Chedda."

"He will not wake yet." The Gift said. "You can help me carry him?"

"Yes, Pahtron."

"Good."

The Gift led the tie around the bed to where the Warrior still lay under
the thrall of the Nectar. He was heavy but they managed to get him to his
feet, resting heavily on the Gift.  "He is due to wake in half an hour."
The Gift said as they stumbled forward into the corridor.

The smell of smoke was strong here.

"He can walk, albeit slowly."

Together they manoeuvred him along the corridor, almost running into the
Warrior Sadath.

"Sadath!" Lost Warrior said. "Help me with Chedda! We need to get to the
drone at the roof!"

"Yes." Sadath said. "But call Lost Clan first."

"Jen. Can you help here?" Lost Warrior added.

"Of course." Sadath smiled as he dismissed the tie and took the weight of
Chedda onto himself. "Lost Clan thinks this is a trap." Sadath whispered to
Lost Warrior as they moved away from the ties running back along the
corridor. "We are being forced into the only drone on the roof, all of us,
including the professor."

"Jax! I didn't think of that. What do we do? Chedda will not be fully awake
for at least half an hour!"

"Nor Selah." Sadath smiled. "We are taking them to a room on the top floor,
Lost Clan knows which one."

Lost Warrior gave most of the weight of its Warrior to Sadath then sent out
the thought.

"Lost Clan?"

"I am here. Come to the Blue Room next to the library on the top floor. We
are gathering there."

"OK, why?"

"It is a trap. I went for a walk tonight after our meal. Something was
worrying me. There was a strange taste in the minds of some of the ties who
were serving us. They were concealing something."

"I didn't notice anything..."

"Because that is my job." Lost Clan said and Lost Warrior could feel the
smile behind those words. "I followed some of the ties and then stumbled
upon two ties setting the fire."  "You did not stop them?"

"They will not live for much longer, if that is what you mean." Lost Clan
replied. "But I think we must let this fire take its course. The drone will
leave as planned with the two ties who started the fire strapped inside,
Lost Boy is preparing them now."

"A scary thought." Lost Warrior sighed. "The Professor is safe?"

"He and Rocky Waters are in the Blue Room now."

"How will we leave?"

"We will use the fire as a shield. There is a service staircase at the back
of the Blue Room. It goes all the way down to the cellar. We can escape
through the tunnels there to the cart enclosure."

"Are you sure we won't be seen?" Lost Warrior asked.

"We will have to be in concert." Lost Clan advised. "If we can keep that
up, then we will keep everyone away from our flight. We should not be
seen. At the end, another Cart slipping away from the Palace will not be
noticed in the madness of the fire."

"Very neat." Lost Warrior smiled. "Are you sure you didn't plan this?"

"No, it is a Sidian plot. I may have pushed it forward slightly when I
discovered it, though." Lost Clan admitted. "We need to be hidden for a
while. This is the perfect way."

 "OK. Where are you now?"

"Just coming onto the roof to make sure the drone gets away as planned."

"And what of the Green Palace?"

"It is lost. A fitting end for the place really."

"If you say so. I will meet you in the Blue Room with Chedda and Sadath."

"I will see you there."

They had reached the main staircase now. Smoke was filling the void, a
large atrium that stretched up to a glass ceiling high above. Their suites
were on the first floor of the Palace, the Blue Room was on the
fourth. Together Lost Warrior and Sadath carried Chedda up the two sets of
stairs to the fourth floor and the Blue Room.

"Professor!" Lost Warrior said as it came into the room and settled Chedda
into a sofa next to a sleeping Selah. "I can't believe the Sidians planned
for you to be lost here tonight as well!"

"Nor I." The Professor sighed. "It was common knowledge back in the Palace
of Sunsets that I would be here."

"So, if everyone thinks you are lost as well?" Lost Warrior asked.

"Then all gifting ceases." The Professor replied. "I have already had the
current tanks in the Tower of Gifting transported to my laboratory on the
Eel du Ahbruh."

"I didn't know you had another laboratory."

"No-one does." The Professor smiled. "But after four centuries of living on
Tare du Maretch, I have learned to protect my interests."

"And the growing Gifts will be cared for as well on the island as they will
be in the Tower of Gifting." Rocky Island added.

"And the chaos their disappearance will cause among the Gifts..." Lost
Warrior mused.

"Will be great." The Professor smiled. "But necessary." He
added. "Everything is interlinked, some of the Gifts have forgotten
that. This will remind them."

 "Jen. Lost Clan, Lost Boy!" Lost Warrior added, pulling its companions
into a hug. "The drone has left?"

"With the two ties suitably strapped into the thing." Lost Boy smiled.

"There are no more ties on this floor so as far as they all know we are in
the drone." Lost Clan said. "That is important."

"The two ties told me everything in the hope I would free them!" Lost Boy
added.

"And what did they say?" The Professor asked as he and Rocky Island
gathered their packs in the middle of the room.

"They didn't actually know that much." Lost Boy admitted. "Sidian Deserts
left them with a disur. It contacted them yesterday with instructions. The
fire to be set, the drone to be programmed and then primed with the bomb."

"Natius?" Lost Clan asked.

"As with my drone. You were right, Professor."

"Not that I wanted to be." The Professor added. "The Warriors will have to
carry all of our gear, Jen? There is too much here for us to carry!."

"Jen." Lost Boy said. "That is what we love them for." It smiled. "Their
strength!"

"And the ties in the drone?" Lost Warrior asked returning to the previous
conversation. "They revealed anything else of the Sidian plans?"

"Beyond the destruction of the Palace and the drone they knew nothing."
Lost Boy replied.

"And the disur they used?" Lost Clan asked.

"Here." Lost Boy said handing it over. "If Sidian Deserts does contact them
again then we will know about it."

"How long until the fire reaches this floor?" Lost Warrior asked going over
to Chedda who was beginning to stir.

"Soon." Lost Clan replied. "It is not a big fire, sadly, but Sadath and I
have helped it along."

"Jen!" Sadath laughed. "We have rigged up some explosives around the rest
of the building. The whole Palace will be destroyed. We will set them off
just as we are leaving the cellar"

"But the whole Palace!" Lost Warrior exclaimed. "Why destroy the whole
thing?"

"There are too many ties and soldiers here still working for Sidian
Deserts." Lost Clan said. "Now I know the signature, I can feel it in their
minds. The Palace is their focus. With it gone they are set adrift - and
lost to Sidian Deserts."

"Plus you get to destroy the place you hate most in the world." Lost Boy
added.

"And that." Lost Clan smiled. "You had your vengeance on Taeda, I need my
revenge on this place."

"Truthsaying." Lost Boy admitted, then turned and smiled as Selah pulled
his way slowly to consciousness.

"Hey." He smiled, pulling Lost Boy into a hug. "Where are we?"

"Safe." Lost Boy said. "I'll explain in a moment. We are going to be on the
move soon, you up for that?"

"Give me a second." Selah smiled, kissing his Gift. "That and some
trousers..."

"Shame." Lost Boy laughed as it rummaged in a pack and passed some trousers
over to the Warrior.

"These are new?" Selah asked as he stood and pulled them on. "I don't
remember seeing them before."

"I had them made back in the Palace of Sunsets. They were only delivered
here on last night's shipment. You like them?"

"Jen." Selah smiled, as he ran his hands down the smooth red leather. "They
fit very well."

"Very well indeed." Lost Boy smiled. "I had them made specifically for
you. You fill them perfectly!"

"The leather is fine too." Lost Clan smiled. "You been growing Beef-ties
when no-one was looking?"

"Something like that." Lost Boy smiled.

A crack outside the door to the room brought them all to their feet.

"I think the glass in the atrium down the hall has just broken." The
Professor said.

"Don't open the door!" Lost Clan warned. "If the fire is intense out there,
it is the only thing protecting us! We need to form a concert now. Lost
Warrior, is Chedda ready?"

"Jen." Chedda said standing up and pulling on his own trousers. "You do
what you have to do, leave the rest to us."

"OK, Lost Warrior, Lost Boy, sit with me here." Lost Clan said.

A plank of wood had been placed on the floor and the three of them sat in a
line, with Lost Clan in the centre. Chedda and Sadath lifted the plank,
while Selah took up all the packs.

"Ready?" Lost Clan asked.

"Jen." They all replied.

Lost Clan concentrated and then reached out with its mind. It could feel
Lost Boy and Lost Warrior nearby and pulled them into itself. There was a
moment of dizziness as they merged consciousness and became one
thought. The concert.

The concert reached out and pulled the others into a huddle around the
plank and then they were off. Selah opened the door at the back of the room
and smoke billowed in. It moved around them, though, like they were
contained within a bubble of fresh air. The bubble wrapped around them as
they moved out onto the landing and then down the stairs.  The going was
slow, but the concert held. The door to the corridor on the third floor
clicked as they passed. The concert had locked it. It was noticeably warmer
here and, although the bubble protected them from the smoke, it did not
protect them from the heat.

"Let's hope that's the worst of it." The professor muttered as they passed
on down the stairs to the next floor.

The air did become cooler, but the smoke was thicker. A noise on the stairs
below them brought them all to a halt and the concert reached out. It felt
the minds of three ties scurrying down the stairs to the cellar. They were
a flight ahead of them and the concert urged them on. Almost pushing them
out of the stairwell at the bottom and into the basement.

When the stairs were empty again, the group moved on. Behind them there was
a crash on the top floor. A gust of heated air rushed past them and debris
fell about them. The concert protected them, though, and the debris bounced
off the bubble like it was solid.

"The air is not getting hotter." The professor noted as flames began
licking around them.

"Will the stairs hold?" Rocky Islands asked, clutching the Professor's arm.

"The fire seems to be above us." Selah muttered from the front of the
line. "As long as it remains that way we should be safe. Either of you need
me to take over?" He added to Chedda and Sadath.

"I'm fine." Chedda said.

"Me too." Sadath added.

The group passed the second floor landing in silence and unseen. The smoke
here was very thick and the way the building was creaking around them began
to worry Selah.  "We will be safe." The concert thought to them all. "If
the rest of the palace collapses, this stairwell will remain. We will be
safe."

"Good." The professor muttered as the first floor landing passed them by.

As the group came down to the ground floor they could hear shouting from
the other side of the landing door, then a thump as something heavy was
thrown at the door. This was followed by another bang and then shouting
that became distant. They carried on in silence, down into the cellar.

The smoke began to clear here and they hurried quickly down a corridor that
brought them to a large, heavy, wooden door.

"You will hide us?" Selah asked as his hand hovered over the bar that would
open the door.

"Yes." The concert said.

He opened the door and the cool air from the outside rushed past them. They
hurried out of the door, across a courtyard. People ran around them, and
the heat of the fire behind them was still hanging heavy in the air.

"Now, Professor." Sadath muttered as they hurried through an alley into
another enclosure.

The Professor pulled a disur from his pocket and pressed a button on its
panel. Behind them a series of explosions hammered out into the evening air
and the light intensified around them in waves. They paid it no heed and
Selah rushed them into a small outbuilding. Two carts filled the building,
both decked out in the black and red colours of the Warriors.

Chedda and Sadath settled the plank with the three gifts onto the floor and
the three of them sighed as the concert ended.

"We are all here?" Lost Clan asked as Sadath helped it to its feet.

"All here." The professor smiled as he loaded their bags into the back of
one of the carts.

"Then we should go." Lost Clan said. "Professor, can you and Selah take
first stint driving?"

"Of course." The Professor said, helping Rocky Islands into the cart.

The other gifts and Chedda and Sadath climbed in as well. Selah ran over
and opened the front door of the outbuilding. It faced onto a lane which
was quiet at the moment, although the noise of the fire and those fighting
it could be heard behind them. Selah returned and jumped into the open
cabin at the front of the cart.

"Let's go." He said.

The Professor smiled and started the engines. The cart slipped out of its
garage and into the night.

****

Extract from 'Soo Delonj: Preparing Tomorrow'

That first night as we fled the burning palace was filled with a nervous
excitement.

Would we escape unnoticed?

Had our ruse in the Palace worked?

Would we survive the journey to the Eel du Ahbruh?

After studying the Professor's extensive maps that night we decided that
the best route would be south to Veedonforet, the regional capital and a
town known to us all. From there we would head south-west across Epijana to
the border of Chelham Province.

Chelham was under the rule of the Warrior Hadrian, but the river Arnau, the
largest navigable river on the planet, ran north-south through the
province, from its source in the Jaskin Mountains in the Province of
Delaware, to its mouth dividing the great port city of Lafon du Rivair in
two. Carts were fast enough, but boats were faster, especially the sleek
river clippers that plied their wares along the great Arnau.

By the time we reached Chelham we reasoned we would be just another group
of Warriors making their way south to the capital of Chelham Province,
Veelom. No-one would notice us. From Lafon du Rivair we could command a
sea-going vessel to take us directly to the Eel du Ahbruh. If all went to
plan, a journey of just under six weeks.

Six weeks to prepare the Second Prime for the coming battle, a battle that
was even more urgent with the emergence of an un-Gifted general in the
Province of Michigan Pass. General Dezyem and his followers had taken the
Province by storm. Here was a General that was distinct from the two
palaces. Separate from the current regime. It helped, of course, that he
was every bit as charismatic as the Warrior Hadrian.

So how to unite us? How to make us into a viable force that could stand
against the Sidians and their puppet general and the Warrior Hadrian? That
question consumed me for the first few days of that journey, so much so
that my Warrior, Sadath, had to force me to eat and drink, so lost was I to
our future.

Sadath, Chedda and Selah began practising their training at some point in
this first week. They worked on their bodies and also their minds. That was
important. Gifts were not yet recognised as human by the general populace,
so any decisions we made would have to be made through our Warriors. To
make those decisions credible, the Warriors had to be more knowledgeable.

The professor and I set tasks for them and, while they were learning, The
Gift of the Lost Warrior devised a similar training routine for us
Gifts. We too would have to be strong, lithe, able to kill with mind and
body. If anything Lost Warrior drove us harder than the Warriors drove
themselves, but it was important.

On the second day of our journey we crossed the border, leaving the
Province of Midpoint and entering the Province of Epijana. We rested in the
border town of Saron, and here we had a chance to catch up on news from the
rest of Tare du Maretch - it was not good. Epijana itself had fallen to
Hadrian without any resistance. A band of Warriors loyal to Hadrian had
marched on the capital city of Epijana in the north. The incumbent Prince
had fled and the battle was won.

At the same time General Dezyem had consolidated his position in Michigan
Pass and had also taken Delaware through a popular uprising that saw the
Province fall before he even stepped into it. At the same time, the Prince
of Princes was massing her army in the Eastern Marches, just to the west of
Michigan Pass. Her intentions were not clear yet, but her forces numbered
more than a hundred thousand, with more arriving all the time. She clearly
saw General Dezyem as the biggest threat, and our own research agreed with
that.

From what I could ascertain from the limited information the Professor had
access to, Dezyem had been a warrior-stujair not more than four years
ago. He had been promising, but rash. Acting first before thinking. This
had been his downfall and he had failed in the penultimate test before that
year's Silver March.

Normally this would result in the death of the warrior-stujair but, Dezyem
had been spared that. The Sidians were hedging their bets even then. He had
been whisked off to Michigan Pass and groomed for his role as General and
saviour. The true heir to the work of the General Ghen. That he was
ungifted and nothing more than a puppet for the Sidian Gifts was not
generally known.

This was the weakness in the Sidian plan, how to exploit that weakness
remained to be seen.

And so, the first week of our flight to the Eel du Ahbruh. From Saron,
south-west to the small town of Vee du Shom. Here we formed a concert
again, while our Warriors slept. We sent nothing more than a desire out
into the night, out to those Gifts who were lost and looking for
direction. At different points in our journey we would be travelling
through major crossings and we sent the desire out to meet us at the first
of these, the city of Quazmon in the centre of Epijana.

Quazmon sat on a crossroads. Two great roads, the east to south-west Jada
Soo, which ran through Midpoint, Epijana and Chelham Provinces and the Jada
Nor, a road that wound its way north to the capital of Epijana, passed
through this town. If there were Gifts in Epijana looking for direction,
this was where we would meet them.

And so to the town of Samson where we picked up the Jada Soo
ourselves. Here we formed another concert and this became part of our
ritual now. Arrive at a town, create a concert. Build on the need to belong
that was wracking all Gifts at the moment. We were not identifying
ourselves as the Second Prime, that would come later, but we were gathering
our troops.

Quazmon would be the first test, would anyone be there to meet us?

Onwards then and south along the Jada Soo to Piay du Ghen. Epijana is, like
Midpoint, an agricultural province. These towns we passed on the Jada
served vast hinterlands where crops to feed the planet were grown. Grain
was stored and processed in the towns along the Jada and then shifted by
road or drone to Epijana and the ports in the north of the country.

Piay du Ghen, was an important place in the life of the General Ghen. It
was where he brought the Province of Epijana into being, the first Province
created after the war that saw the creation of the Second Realm. That had
been over four hundred years ago and now a statue of the General stood in
the centre of a great park around which the rest of the city revolved.

For two hundred years Piay du Ghen had been the capital of Epijana before
that title was given to the bustling port town of Epijana in the north. The
city still basks in its former glory, though, and it was while we were
camping on the edge of the city that a Warrior cart appeared on the Jada
Soo coming out of the city.

We prepared ourselves for everything, a meeting, a battle, a race for our
lives... One thing we did not do, though, was retreat. Not until we knew
what this cart meant. We had been in hiding for almost a week now, it was
time to stand up and face the world.

A Gift climbed out of the cart first, a young Gift, not more than three
years into its Gifting. Behind it came a Warrior, tall, large and stern
looking. The Warrior Jamel, Sadath informed me. Sadath had idolised this
Warrior while he had still been in training at the Palace of Sunsets.

"You travel this rode to Quazmon?" Jamel asked as he and his Gift
approached us.

"We travel to the Eel du Ahbruh in the Angel Archipelago. Would you travel
with us?"

"You are the Gift of the Lost Clan?" Jamel asked.

"We are the Second Prime, yes." I admitted. "I am the Gift of the Lost
Clan."

"I had heard you were all killed in a fire!" Jamel said, coming over and
taking my hand then the hand of my Warrior, Sadath.

"A convenient ruse to hide our flight." I explained.

"But there was a fire?"

"There was a fire. We have made enemies, it would seem."

"Jen." Jamel replied. "But that is a good thing, no? It means you stand for
something."

And he was right. It was not our rhetoric that would define us. Words
served only to bind our hearts and souls together. No, our cause, the
reason we existed that was defined by our enemies, They were the ones who
gave us direction and purpose.

We were not them.

We were to be feared.

And so the Warrior Jamel and the Gift of the Passing Winds became part of
our troupe. The next day we left for the small town of Chiel Marta. Our
first week on the road had come to an end, what lay ahead would define the
rest of our lives.

****

Chapter two from the first tron‡on of the epic poem: Fol du Onj (Flight
of the Angels) [author unknown]

I call the muse, the Gods. Return, return, to me, the gift, the words. The
strength I need to speak, divulge, this tale. And then discern glory,
beauty, and love. All lies recede.  Give me the right, the might, despite:
the doubts.

Kahla'opay, for me your words, your verse Klioh, to me the times, and
memory Erah'to love, and lust, my rhymes traverse Etuhr'pah hold for me,
music flow'ry Melpominee give me drama trujheek Polheem-ni'ah the words of
God you serve Terpsay'koree the dance of love, magic Thahlu humour your
muse and I observe Urah-ni'ah, the stars who weep for you

Before the skies they fell, before the death to ground, it rained. There
were angels, Onj twu, Onj du cah'doe. A gift of love, a breath Of life. And
they were paired with strength, Ahbruh.  Kre'tur of wood, forest and
Warrior.

Clon Padoo, a Gift wise with the world's way.  Garso Padoo, a Gift of
charm, delight.  Garair Padoo, a gift of strength, knowledge Sadath Garair,
justice, wisdom, amor.  Selah Garair, justice, laughter, amor.  Chedda
Garair, justice, reason, amor.  Behind the six, a man, Methuselah.  With
him a gift, to love and life balance.  Around them all, a gathering, a
black storm.

Through Quazmon and Epijana they had fled And with them all gathered
Warriors and Cah'doe. A force of might, power and dread.  The usurper,
Hadr'an, their fall he planned, and south from Labere his army it marched.

You go to fight this foe. He told his men.  Valiant hearts, strong swords,
strong arms, strong will.  March mez ahmee, warriors all, of Ghen and
Scerael you are born. Fight until their blood and memory is washed in soil.
Until their names from Tare du Maretch leave And never from the battle you
recoil The right to rule this land from them you reave.
 The might, power, la vee du God is mine.

And the Onj on the Jada Soo they fled west, ever west 'til word came of war
Of men marching, of men planning their death Their destruction. And soon
Tlathin they saw And here they grouped and turned to face their foe.

We wait. And yes, we fight and maybe die.  But Gifts will not, not ever
will they kill Another Gift or Warrior this night.  Within their hearts our
crusade's truth instil.  For we are Onj, we all are Onj, we all Are
God. Human, cah'doe, warrior strong.  We are primal. And to them will
befall the fate of the second prime and for long will our vict'ry be sung,
be told, and far.

La prahree du la Onj combart is where they fought. South of Tlathin, south
of the Soo.  Within his army he had them ensnared, Onj trapp'd inside a
ring, they were a few.  And they fought, and they fell and last they spoke.

With dead for both, a truce ensued. For each to speak the fate du Onj, the
fate Hadr'an.  And here a dare. And there a wit. To seek For each a
champion, to fight and plan.  Chedda Garair, Garair Padoo to head The fight
of right for the mighty Onj Twu.  Hadr'an Garair, Trayvee Athool, to head
The fight of might, to rule and hold this land.  To both a time, for all to
fly.

****

"No." The Gift of the Lost Boy said, turning to face Selah.

They were sat at the front of a cart. Selah was driving and Lost Boy
feeling the route ahead.

They were still in Epijana, still in a Province controlled by Hadrian. They
would not reach the safety of Logan until tonight.

Late tonight.

 "But..." Selah said, smiling as he turned to face his Gift.

"OK." Lost boy smiled. "I am just worried that's all. There is just too
much to go wrong!"

"Chedda and Lost Warrior are strong, and they will have the might of the
concert behind them."

"But it would be so much better if we were there!" Lost Boy
complained. "You know, in Labere, where Chedda and the Lost Warrior are
risking their lives for us! I have no doubt they will win, but what happens
then? They will be fighting inside the dragon's lair!"

"Do you think the Prince of Princes knows we are going to this battle in
her name?" Selah asked after a moment of silence.

"I would think after Tlathin she has her spies crawling all over this
place." Lost Boy laughed, smiling as he waved into the sky. "Probably has
all her satellites trained on us as well."

"It's what I would do." Selah agreed. "And the Master Warrior. What of him
do you think?"

"Jaxed if I know." Lost Boy smiled. "We have heard nothing from the Palace
of Sunsets since the Tower of Gifting was emptied.

"And if what we are hearing from the other Warriors is true, no-one is
hearing from the Palace."

"Does that frighten you?" Lost Boy asked, reaching out with its tail and
slipping it around Selah's waist.

"It is not good." Selah admitted, shifting in his seat to let the tail wind
around his waist. "You would think the Palace would be sending out orders,
telling us what to do."

"We know what to do."

"Perhaps, but we are destroying, or at least threatening the Second Realm
in the process."

"You know, I never told you this, but Lost Clan once said to me, while we
were in the Tower of Gifting tending Sadath; it said that this civil war
was determined the moment the concert knocked the fleet of the mining
companies above us into that moon."

"And it is something Lost Clan understands, this decision tree?" Selah
asked.

"I think it was all clear up until Tlathin. Hadrian was not part of the
Decision Tree, I think. It was designed only with the Sidians in mind."

"And now? What does Lost Clan determine now?"

"With the concert behind them, Chedda and Lost Warrior will beat
Hadrian. His little kingdom will fall to the Prince of Princes."

"But we will have to play that carefully." Selah reminded his love. "Chedda
will not be happy to beat Hadrian knowing he could only do it with the
support of the concert."

"No, and we will have to go carefully. The Lost Warrior will protect
him. Only when it allows us to intervene will we step in."

"And the Gift of the Blue Bay? It is stronger than any Gift I have ever
come across, apart from you three, of course. What about the Gift?"

"The concert will deal with the Gift." Lost Boy promised. "With the Lost
Warrior to guide us, we will strike Blue Bay. It will understand in the
end."

"Yet you will not kill it?"

"No. We agreed. There was enough death at Tlathin. We need no more."

"But what if they both just slope off to lick their wounds. Hadrian has
tasted power, he will not give that up lightly."

"But he is still Warrior." Lost Boy answered. "All his life he has been
trained, has trained others, in the right of the Law. In the end even he
will recognise within the Second Prime, the new law."

"I hope you're right." Selah mused. "If he were to ally with the Sidians we
would be hard pressed to maintain control."

"Then we need to convince him differently." Lost Boy smiled. "Besides, what
could they offer him? They have Dezyem, their puppet General. I would think
Hadrian was as much a surprise to them as he was to us."

"And certainly made them show their hand early." Selah agreed.

"Yes. Even now Hadrian controls more territory than they do. No-one
expected that."

"And he has a lot of support." Selah muttered. "What if Chedda beats
Hadrian only to have to face another Warrior?"

"Would that happen?"

"Who knows?" Selah mused. "I don't know how Hadrian is tying his Warriors
and their Gifts to him. What promises he has made them. If his truce with
them is uneasy, his defeat could open a vacuum that the next strongest will
fill."

"But that would be Chedda, surely."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

They were silent for a while. Around them the Jada Soo wound through fields
of Lorj, a grain that was one of the staples in the human diet on Tare du
Maretch. It was the first of the grain crops to be modified for use on Tare
du Maretch. As Midpoint was the place where Hadge was grown, so Epijana was
the main centre of Lorj production.

This time of year was near to harvesting, and many of the fields they
passed were clearly being prepared for harvest. The machinery of the farm
was evident and there was a smell of Leesons in the air. The smell reminded
Lost Boy that they too would have to refuel the carts soon. It began to
scan the horizon, looking for the town the maps called Cottoe Shamia. Their
next stop.

"There!" It said after a moment. "I see the town."

"Good." Selah smiled. "I need a rest and..."

"A massage, maybe?" Lost Boy smiled.

"Only if you want to." Selah laughed.

"Depends what price you're willing to pay."

"Anything you want." Selah laughed, reaching out and pulling the Gift, his
Gift, into him. "Anything you want."

****

"Again." The voice said.

"Aargh!" Chedda complained. "You drive me too hard!"

"Hadrian is a canny fighter. He knows all the moves!" Lost Warrior
explained. "If you want to beat him you must be innovative."

"Are you sure you only want me to master this archetype because it's named
for you?"

"Are you sure you are able to cope with an archetype created by a Gift?"
Lost Warrior smiled as it jumped off the low wall that ran around the edge
of the room and settled into the first position of the archetype, the Pous.

"You will not beat me!" Lost Warrior laughed.

"Then compete!" Lost Warrior called as it launched into the air, assuming
the position of Flaish before turning head over heels at the top of the
move and changing to the Flaishet.

Chedda was a second behind his Gift. As he reached the top of his arc, so
Lost Warrior assumed Flaishet. As he assumed Flaishet, so Lost Warrior
assumed Faibelons. Chedda laughed as he too assumed Faibelons, although he
actually had a betoe with which to strike the ground. Lost Warrior had
simply shouted as he struck the ground with his imaginary betoe.

"Better." Lost Warrior smiled as he stood and pulled his Warrior into a
hug.

"Thank you." Chedda smiled. "Shame you can't show me how proud you are of
me."

"Another reason to best Hadrian then." Lost Warrior smiled as he ran his
lips across those of his lover. "Anyone who would imprison a Warrior and
his Gift without a bed is clearly determined to be beaten!"

"Yeah!" Chedda laughed as he let go of the Gift and slipped back into
Pous. "And maybe for that he should die." He added, launching into the
Flaish once more.  The Gift of the Lost Warrior waited until he completed
the manoeuvre before he added:

"But not this time, I hope."

"Not this time." Chedda agreed.

It had been a journey to reach here. Even knowing that this would be the
outcome had not made it simpler.

They had first heard of the approaching army in Quazmon. At that time they
had numbered some forty Warriors and Gifts. With the news of Hadrian's
intent, the concert had sent out the call. They would meet at Tlathin.

When they arrived at the town another hundred Gifts and their Warriors were
waiting for them. A formidable force, then, but the mere fact that they
were fighting was a problem in itself. Nothing in their training at the
Palace of Sunsets had prepared any of them for this. And they would be
fighting humans. Hadrian had sent no Gifts, no Warriors with this army.

What did that mean?

Was it an insult perhaps? Did he believe that mere men could best the
Second Prime and its supporters? Or did he want the Second Prime to be seen
as death, as the destroyers of mankind?

Either way it was a difficult choice and either way it would be a difficult
battle.

The men that marched on them would be armed with weapons stronger than the
ceremonial weapons of Betoe and Epay. There would be blasters, broolyar and
even rumours of creetair. Never in the history of the Second Realm had
Warriors had to face up to weapons such as these.

Broolyar sprayed a fine mist of acid that was laced with skin destroying
viruses. Creetair were canons that fired pulse after pulse of high energy
lasers or, worse, virus filed projectiles. While Gifts could turn most
weapons, even turn those that had already reached skin and muscle, it would
be a difficult fight. Too many weapons, too many to protect - and then the
town itself.

It had not decided to be the place for this conflict. Had not voted to be
the first battle between two of the sides in this civil war. Yet it was
here. Would Hadrian's army see the Second Prime as protecting the town?
Would they see the town as complicit in the battle?

And what of the Sidians?

Until now, this war had not involved any army to army conflict. In Delsia
and Chelham the populace had risen against the local Princes and they had
fled, opening the way for Hadrian. An army in its border was enough to send
the Prince of Epijana fleeing for Troubian. Delaware and Michigan Pass had
fallen to General Dezyem in much the same way.  No, this was to be the
first battle of the civil war. What did that mean?

The Gifts felt the weight of history upon them, while their Warriors were
being called by the heat of the coming battle. If they won, if they lost,
the ramifications would affect the whole planet, reach into the star system
above them and, ultimately, eventually, finally, reach into the One World
itself.

This was the beginning.

Whether it would be the beginning of the beginning, la dayboo du
commensmon, or the beginning of the end, la dayboo du fan, would remain to
be seen. The Gift of the Lost Clan had not taken Hadrian as a serious
threat in its calculations of the future. It had learned a valuable lesson
and was now reframing all its decision trees. That would take time, and
even it could not yet say which way fate would fall.

In the end the battle had been bloody.

There had been no creetair, but the humans had suffered and died on the
altar of Gift and Warrior supremacy, of their idiocy. Many ties had died
defending their Warriors when there had been no need for their
defence. Many fighters for Hadrian had died at the hands of Warrior or,
more commonly, Gift, when there was really no need for such a loss.

In the end the Gift of the Lost Clan had called "No! Ohcoon!"

The thought had slipped into every mind on the battlefield, human, Warrior
and Gift. All had stopped fighting. All turned and surveyed the prahree du
combart. Looked down on what they had wrought. As one both sides moved
then. To care for the injured, to bury the dead. On both sides there was
one accord. And then they sat and then they parleyed.

The leader of Hadrian's fighters, a man called Omsa, and the Gift of the
Lost Clan sat and brokered a truce. A truce that Hadrian himself had not
engineered. A truce the Gift of the Blue Bay had not bargained for. In the
end it was agreed that, since this was a battle between Warriors, the head
of East Central Alliance, the Warrior Hadrian, and the champion of the
Second Prime, the Warrior Chedda, would meet in a contest of wills and
might.

The Viktor would be the King, the Ulteem Ganay.

And so they returned to Labere. Not with the Gift of the Lost Warrior and
the Warrior Chedda as prisoners, but rather as potential rulers. As heirs
to all that was the Second Realm. And it was the people that had decided
this was to be. Despite Hadrian and the Gift of the Blue Bay, despite the
three hundred Warriors and Gifts that had joined him, it was the people who
decided this contest would take place.

For all their might, the Gifts and their Warriors were cowed by the
strength of the humans they had sought to control. Had realised, suddenly,
belatedly, that they ruled because they were allowed to rule and that, if
the people decided, a different face would sit on the throne of Labere.

Hits the ego something like that.

Makes you realise that what is important to a Warrior or a Gift means
nothing to the man on the street.

And then you remember, there are a lot of streets on this planet, and a lot
of men, oh so many men, and, in comparison, so few Warriors, so few Gifts.

So now this cell.

It was not a prison in the sense that they were locked away. Hadrian and
the Gift of the Blue Bay were housed in a similar complex. It was a suite
of rooms. A kitchen, toilet, bathrooms, training room and, yes, a sleeping
space - although not one to which a Warrior and Gift were used.

The suites were on either side of a vast courtyard known as the Carray du
Veritay, the Square of Truth. This covered space was home to the local
assembly. With his ascension here, Hadrian had the space cleared and
installed two thrones one for him and one for his Gift. This disregard for
the law of humanity had irked many of his subjects and now, now there was a
new champion.

The square had been cleared.

Now it was the Carray du Decision. The Square of Deciding.

Here the King would rise.

Here truth would be declared.

The people were willing to abide by the rules of this contest, but would
Hadrian? Would the other Warriors? More importantly, would the assembled
Gifts be tied by any decision decided by a mere contest of strength?

Only the event itself would decide. Even the Gift of the Lost Clans could
not be certain. It was clear Hadrian would lose, but it might well take the
strength of the concert to quell the assembled Gifts. Warriors might not
kill in this contest, but in the aftermath it was a very real possibility
that Gifts could.

Kill other Gifts.

Commit the ultimate crime.

La Dernyar Uct.

From there, there was no return.

It was a risky game they were playing, but the concert, and the promise it
gave, that could be enough to tip the balance in the favour of the Second
Prime. Stop them from stepping into that final place.

That was the plan.

That was the design.

They came into the arena in darkness. Ties brought them to the door, then
soldiers took them to a space in the centre of the room. As they stepped
into the white circle painted onto the floor, so the lights in the centre
of the ceiling came up and illuminated them.

The audience was silent, but the Gift of the Lost Warrior could feel them
just beyond the edge of the light. There was hope here, but also
hatred. For many the collapse of the old order was seen as the collapse of
the law, and Warriors and Gifts were part of that collapse. Irrelevant in
many of the stronger minds in this room.

That was not good.

There were no words between the Lost Warrior and Chedda. That time had
passed. Instead Chedda went to the centre of the circle and settled into
the position called Evelsomai. The meditation.

The Gift of the Lost Warrior sat on the edge of the circle, as it had been
instructed to do.

Once they were settled, the lights on one side of the room came up. In
silence a triangle of Warriors marched into the space, with Hadrian at
their point. When they were in position all the Warriors apart from Hadrian
settled into the Evelsomai. Hadrian himself settled into a Cloetuzh, taking
the first position of the Sootan Archetype.

As was his right, he was armed, with a betoe. This first phase of the
contest was not for scoring points, it allowed each fighter to gauge the
other's ability. But the incumbent, in this case Hadrian, was allowed to
hold a weapon if he so chose.

This is what he had chosen.

The lights opposite the Warriors came up and their Gifts entered the hall,
again in a triangle with the Gift of the Blue Bay at their head. As they
pulled into position, so all the Gifts also settled into the
Evelsomai. Blue Bay, though, took up the position of Metrah. For it the
victory was already complete.

"Now." The Gift of the Lost Warrior thought, and a hundred Gifts, then a
hundred Warriors joined its mind.

The assembled Gifts reeled at this and Blue Bay collapsed into a heap,
assuming Evelsomai at the last moment to save its face. They had heard of
the concert, of course they had, but they had assumed it to be just the
three Gifts of the Second Prime, not all the Gifts that currently supported
them, and definitely not all their Warriors as well.

A man stepped into the middle of the circle. He looked around the room and,
as he did so, so the lights came up on the audience. There were many here,
over a thousand.  The man in the ring bowed to them, then turned to look at
each of the Warriors in turn. Slowly he stepped out of the circle and
settled to the ground opposite the Gift of the Lost Warrior.

"Chay!" He called.

And it began.

It had been clear to Chedda from the moment that he stepped into the ring
Hadrian intended to have first blood in this round, even if it did not
count. In his mind then he had formulated the plan that would disarm
Hadrian and put them both on a more level playing field. Hence his
assumption of Evelsomai at the start.

Hadrian saw it as a position of weakness, of acquiescence to his greater
strength and ability. The smile on his face as he took up his Cloetuzh made
this clear. But Chedda knew differently. He had to be below Hadrian's betoe
in order to focus all of his strength into an upward strike that would send
the long stick flying from the arena and thus out of the round.

It was still a tricky move and, if Hadrian held the betoe too tightly, it
could snap and that would leave Hadrian with a now sharpened, although
shorter betoe. Much like the short knife the rahpyai, a weapon with which
Chedda was not as proficient as he would like.

But the time for thinking was over. As was also his right, Hadrian began
his first move. From his position of Cloetuzh, he raised his betoe and
quickly slammed it down toward the still seated Chedda. This was the start
of an old archetype known as Pie'ahrve. From Cloetuzh to the strike
position of Prohjactl. Next would come the Sauta and following that either
another Sauta or the whirling attack of the Toebillon. The archetype always
ended in the Metrah as it virtually guaranteed victory for the armed
player.

But that was not Chedda's intent this time. Knowing that he had to think
differently to outwit this master fighter, he did not roll into the
expected move of Petee Swaray, instead he flowed through the gombillay from
Evelsomai to Belyea. With all his strength he clasped both hands and struck
the foot of the betoe as it came at him. Struck it with such force that it
was pushed back through Hadrian's hands. It arced over him, landing with a
clatter in the middle of the assembled Warriors behind him.

At once Hadrian moved into the Array, one foot in front of the other with
all the body weight transferred to the back foot. Arms outstretched, hands
held flat, one in front of the other. That he was a master fighter was
clear to Chedda. To be able to switch archetypes as quickly as that, to
flow the gombillay seamlessly from what was intended to what was required,
that showed a mastery over mind and body. Chedda only hoped he could
imitate Hadrian's skill.

Without warning, he launched himself into a Gronolee. He arched back and
seemed to flow like the wind into a backwards leap that ended with him
standing in the Cloetuzh. His weight was on the back leg, with his whole
upper body arched back. Normally the betoe would be held ready to strike in
this position, but there was no betoe, and so Chedda held his hand in the
position known as Mont, imitating the insect of the same name, the Mantis.

And then a launch, before even Hadrian had his position finalised, Chedda
came straight at him. Mont to Flaish, Flaish to Combart and, as Hadrian
fell, a roll in the air into Sauta, and then a counter launch immediately
back over the still fallen Hadrian and back into the Mont, waiting for
Hadrian to respond.

It was instantly clear to both Chedda and the Gift of the Lost Warrior that
Hadrian had decided to play this to form. To show that his mastery of the
defined Archetypes was more than anything this upstart could bring. Hadrian
was playing for style, as if this was nothing more than a game of
Deshak. Chedda was playing to win, and for him this meant improvising.

Style was not important here.

Hadrian was quick to return to his own Cloetuzh, but Chedda could see in
his eyes that he was unsure what to do next. The problem with years of
training was that there were so many positions and archetypes to choose
from. Knowing which one to select could take precious seconds, and this was
an advantage Chedda intended to pursue. He and the Lost Warrior had already
settled on a fixed set of positions both defensive and attacking. Positions
that could come to mind and body quickly.

Chedda knew that it was over thirty years since Hadrian had needed to fight
another Warrior in a pure battle. Since then all his fighting had been
stylised demonstrations of his prowess. Chedda was still fresh from his own
Silver March, his own battle. For him there was no style. All fights like
this were battles in his head.

They began circling each other now, slowly and intently. Each on an
opposite side of the circle and each judging and balancing the mood and
standing of the other. This move, the Bilon allowed a few extra minutes of
time for each Warrior. It was timed though. A Bilon could not last for more
than three minutes and could then not be repeated in the current round.

For a while they circled in the Bilon then launched, both into a Sauta
across the circle, but this Sauta involved spinning the body as you flew,
from flying face down to side on as you passed your enemy, then back to
face down to finish. Known as the Teer'boushon, this move was designed with
small swords, usually the Epay, in mind.

At the centre of the attack there would be a clash of weapons. Here though
there was a clash of hands, arms and legs as the Warriors span past each
other ending the move in a roll that once more ended in a Cloetuzh with
them both facing each other on opposite sides of the circle.

And then again, the move repeated and, before either of them had time to
catch their breaths, again, repeated. Four times they launched themselves
across the arena at each other, four times each testing the mettle of the
other as they passed at the centre of the circle.

On the last move, though, Hadrian did not move into the attack or defensive
modes he had adopted before. This time his arms and legs reached out and
around Chedda in a move known as the Portacelan.

Chedda had expected something like this, but also knew he had to lose this
preliminary round. This was also a battle of wits and making Hadrian think
he had bested Chedda could force the older Warrior into more and more
daring moves later in the match that could see him make a mistake that
Chedda could capitalise on.

They fell to the floor in an ungracious heap. It was clear that Chedda
could not recover from this position so the referee called out :

"Sa!"

Hadrian rolled off Chedda and stood, sneering down at the younger Warrior,
then moved off to settle at the front of Warriors. He sat facing them and
they began to converse quietly, no doubt planning out the moves the master
would execute in the next round.

For his own part, Chedda settled back into an Evelsomai, sitting at the
edge of the circle, eyes closed facing inwards.

"You are ready?" He thought to Lost Warrior, the concert concealing his
thoughts from the other Gifts in the room.

"We are ready." The voice of the concert responded through the mind of Lost
Warrior.

Chedda could feel his Gift inside this melange, feel the strength it was
pushing to him, but he could also feel the Gift of the Lost Clan and the
Gift of the Lost Boy and, behind them, all the other Gifts that had joined
them on their separate marches towards the Eel du Ahbruh. And behind them,
an assembled body of Warriors, each of them feeding their strength, skill
and agility into him.

He felt his body relax and then refresh as the concert overwhelmed
him. Then it withdrew and, even as the referee shouted to start the next
round, Chedda launched into a Flaish that saw him reach and take both the
betoe that were standing in the centre of the circle before Hadrian had
time to launch into his own Sauta.

There was a gasp from the Warriors and a protest that was quickly
stifled. Chedda had not moved before the start of the round. He had moved
exactly the moment the referee had shouted. A feat that left many of the
Warriors stunned. They had not expected this young upstart, still fresh out
of his training, to be so organised.

So quick.

With both betoe, one in each hand, Chedda changed Flaish to assisted Pous,
using the betoe to push him up into the air above Hadrian whose Sauta had
now taken him underneath Chedda to the other side of the arena. At the apex
of his Pous, Chedda levelled the betoe so they were both pointing over to
Hadrian. As his feet hit the floor so he rolled into a position known as
Roosharet, the cartwheel. With one betoe acting as a spoke, Chedda rolled
twice in quick succession, the second betoe sweeping out in a wide flat arc
and striking Hadrian on the calf.

A shout from the gathered human audience, a hiss from the Warriors. First
blood was Chedda's and before Hadrian could even reach out and strike back,
Chedda used the betoe to give speed to his Gronolee as he arced backwards
across the arena on the opposite side to Hadrian. At once he took up
Cloetuzh, holding both betoe directly at Hadrian.

And in his mind Chedda felt the concert begin to move. Another battle would
commence now. While he fought Hadrian, the concert would begin persuading
the Gifts in the room that this was not the way to act. That the power of
the concert was more than the power anyone Warrior or Gift could wield.

It was a persuasive argument, and the Gift of the Lost Warrior already knew
which of the assembled Gifts he should direct the message towards. Those
Gifts that had joined with Hadrian because there appeared to be no
alternative. Those that did not wish to see the rule of the Generals
returned to the Second Realm but were not certain what form any future
government of Tare du Maretch should take.

Lost Warrior intended to show them what the future looked like. It was a
concert, a concert that would sweep the Gifts across the Western Galaxy and
allow them to claim the ultimate prize, the One World, Lun'Mondahl.

Hadrian had chosen a hundred of his Warriors to watch him in this
match. He, like all of the older Warriors, had not thought to choose the
Gifts first. A mistake that allowed the concert to introduce indecision
into the minds of many of the Gifts. Blue Bay felt this and pushed its own
strength out to those Gifts assembled behind it. The two behind it did the
same, planning a wave of strength to run through the triangle of Gifts.

The concert was stronger though. In the centre of the group, the Gift of
the Wide Plains bowed its head. In the triangle opposite its Warrior did
the same. The audience of humans gasped, many of them climbing to their
feet as two pencil thin beams of light suddenly shot vertically from the
Gift and its Warrior. When the light died they were both gone. Physically
they joined the Gift of the Lost Clan at the coastal village of Falaiz
Oht. Mentally though, they joined the concert.

And moments later another, the Warrior Arnsen and his Gift, Falling
Star. Then another and another. In the space of two minutes eight Gifts and
their Warriors had vanished from the room. So loud was the noise from the
audience becoming that the referee called an early halt to the round.

Chedda released the betoe and a tie removed them from arena. He settled
back into an Evelsomai while Chedda returned to his Warriors. They began a
rapid and no longer whispered conversation. Chedda blocked them out,
accepting strength back from the Concert and allowing the concert to
continue its work.

Another four Warriors and their Gifts bowed out of the room during the
recess. The light taking them off either to Cottoe Shamia to be with the
Gift of the Lost boy and the Warrior Selah or to Falaiz Oht and the Gift of
the Lost Clan and the Warrior Sadath.

"Stop this!" The Gift of the Blue Bay thought to Lost Warrior.

Lost Warrior said nothing, instead the concert spoke, and the voice was
audible. Silence fell on the room as it spoke.

"This is not Law." The concert said, the voice seemingly coming from every
corner of the room. "We are the Second Prime, the Human Extant. Body,
sentience, soul. Human, Gift, Warrior. We are three. The moment of the
Condimium has arrived. What do you choose? The rule of human, the rule of
Warrior, or the rule of the Primes? Choose now."

The sound of a thousand voices it seemed, echoed around the hall, and when
it was gone both Chedda and the Gift of the Lost Warrior rose as one. the
Gift turned to face the audience. Chedda stood to face the Warriors.

"How do you choose?" They intoned at once.

Both turned and faced the assembled Gifts.

"How do you choose?" They asked.

"No!" A shout called and Hadrian leapt across the room.

He had an Epay in his hand, the weapon that was to be used in the next
round of the contest. He rolled across the floor in a Sauta, then launched
into a Flaish, his Epay aimed directly at the Gift of the Lost Warrior. At
the same time the Gift of the Blue Bay launched itself at Chedda.

There was no noise. Instead both Hadrian and Blue Bay stopped midflight as
if some great creature held them tight. Clearly both were struggling
against the force that held them, but neither could move. The Epay fell
uselessly from Hadrian's hand.

"This is what the rule of Warrior will bring to these lands." Chedda said
turning back to face the Warriors now standing and facing into the
arena. "Might not right. Power, subjugation. There would be no freemen, we
would all be tied to the likes of this. Is this what you desire?"

Several Warriors bowed their heads and in a moment the flashes returned to
the room and they and their Gifts were gone.

"And the General Dezyem." Chedda said turning to face the audience now. "He
is a human, but do you really think he acts alone? Even the great General
Ghen needed the support of nations to create the Second Realm. Do you
believe Dezyem acts alone? Or do you believe that in the shadows another
force guides him. A force of Law?"

It was clear to the audience that Chedda was telling them that Warriors
were behind General Dezyem, Warriors and their Gifts.

"Hear this, people of Labere, in the Province of Delsia, I Chedda Notus
Troubiare, Warrior of the Palace of Sunsets, Judge of the Prince of Princes
pass this judgement." Chedda said to the assembled humans in the
room. "This folly is over. Return to your homes and your work. Return to
the rule of the Prince of Princes. The rule of Hadrian Sanga Troubiare is
passed. This is my judgement. I am the law. I am Warrior."

Around him the remaining Gifts and Warriors flickered from the room. The
humans also left the chamber until in the end all who remained were Chedda,
The Gift of the Lost Warrior, Hadrian, the Gift of the Blue Bay and the
Concert. The concert released Hadrian and Blue Bay, they both fell to the
floor.

At once Hadrian grabbed the Epay and launched himself at the Lost
Warrior. Lost Warrior immediately collapsed into a crouch. As Hadrian came
over him so the Gift's arms shot out, strong arms, stronger than Hadrian
had expected. They grabbed Hadrian's wrists and pulled him over the Gift in
a roll.

"No!"

There was a scream from Blue Bay and the Gift flew over to its
Warrior. Hadrian had landed on his back. the Epay rose neatly out of the
centre of his chest.

"Hadrian!" Blue Bay screamed, willing its life into that of its
Warrior. "Attend me!" It screamed.

But the chamber was empty.

No-one remained apart from the two sparks of life and energy, thoughts and
dreams, that were Hadrian and the Gift of the Blue Bay. In a moment there
was only one and then, after a scream that echoed around the city, there
was no life left in the chamber.

The reign of Hadrian the Unexpected, as history would name him, was over.

****