Silisatheon

Silisatheon
By: Logan Mayhew

Prologue

         “There they are those greedy nobles and their equally greedy guards.  I’m glad we have this chance,” said Omas Pack, leader of the Khiros.
         “I agree, we cannot let this continue.  How many men have died at their blade only for their wives and children to be taken in as slaves for their dirty work?” said the man lying beside Omas. 
         “Yes, Shuri, we agree with you.  That’s why we’re here,” said another, skinny man sitting just below the two lying on the sand dune.  Unlike Shuri, whose voice was deep and strong, this man’s voice was edgy and dark.
         “I just like to announce my purpose to myself.  It helps to know what I’m fighting for,” said Shuri.
         “Well you don’t need to say it in front of me, I already know,” said the man in reply.
         “Shut up, ‘Tal, no one wants to hear you two argue any more than we have to,” said Omas.
         Dar’Tal shook his head and returned his business to picking at his finger nails with his curved dagger.
         “We should strike quickly,” Shuri said to Omas.  “The guard’s shifts will change soon and we don’t want to fight fresh men.”
         “I see your point, friend, but now is not right.  We must wait.”
         Shuri nodded and grunted in agreement.  The Ar’Ro needed to be in his tent with his three advisors before the Khiros could start an assault.  If they started too soon, the advisors would work their mind powers on the group and Omas, having experienced first-hand the effects of these powers, couldn’t allow any of his men do be subjugated by them.  He needed to act quickly, precisely and with as little casualties to Khiros as possible.  No, there would be no casualties.
         Omas rolled to his back and looked down the dune to his men, twenty in all.  The Khiros was only a small group, only originally consisting of Omas, Shuri and Dar’Tal, the group was founded to destroy the greedy nobles of the Silisatheon Desert.  For years the trio had worked with minimal help outside their organization but recently the three had needed more men for bigger jobs so they started hiring.  The group swelled to twenty-three men in total in less than a year, with all the new recruits realizing that every Ar’Ro from the east to the west coast would be trying to kill them.  So far, the Khiros is the only rebellion group to have survived over three years. 
         Omas looked into the eyes of every warrior and saw as much devotion and determination as he had on their first day.  He watched every man inspect his sword or test his drawstring, awaiting the imminent battle ahead. 
         The leader turned again and peered over the dune edge.  His eyes went wide with excitement to see Ar’Ro Forg walking to his tent, followed by three brown robed men.
         Omas slid down the dune with Shuri and Dar’Tal and stood before his men.
         “The time to strike is now,” he said in his low voice.  “Today we take down the biggest of the greedy ones in the Silisatheon Desert.  Today we gain freedom, today we will be known as heroes to every man who walks before us.”  He turned and looked up the sand-dune then back to his men.  “We will strike hard, and quick.  Do not hesitate, do not ask for mercy.  Slay them all, as brutal as it sounds.  Shuri, ‘Tal and I will get into the tent, every one else take out the guard.  We’ve done this multiple times and there should be no mistakes.  May the gods bless your soul if you shouldn’t make it out alive.”
         With that Omas turned and ran silently up the dune, his men following with his two friends on either side of him.  He ducked just below the tip of the dune, watching the guards. 
         Perfect, he thought, they are oblivious.
         And they were for no guard would dare look up the dune they now stood upon.  Omas selected this dune specially for the position of sun; it was at his back.
         Omas held up his hand in a fist and the archers nocked their arrows and pulled back their drawstrings aiming their bows at a perfect angle.  Omas pointed ahead of him and watched the five arrows fly over his head, aimed high into the air. 
         The arrows went nearly straight up and Omas wanted it so.  He waved above his head and a great wind picked up, blowing in the direction of the Ar’Ro’s camp.  He then muttered something under his breath and pointed to the arrows coming down at the camp.
         His men watched in awe as the arrows multiplied nearly ten times over, coming down on the guards in a great volley of missiles.
         Omas signalled and the archers dropped their bows and drew their swords, running up and then down the dune with their fearless leader. 
         Shuri was the first one to reach the camp and charge through the pitifully built wood fence.  He swung his spiked chain above his head and watched the guards fall before him. 
         Dar’Tal stayed far away from his maniacal friend and only had out his curved gold dagger.  He was stalking his way through the camp, searching for prey.  Then, he caught a glimpse of a guard, he was standing with another in front of the tent, unable to move due to duty.  Another guard was scrambling to get to the tent but Dar’Tal didn’t let him.  He quickly drew a straight edged dagger from his belt and flicked it to the man, catching him in the throat.  The two in front of the tent turned to look at ‘Tal and he guessed that he was the exception to the duty part of not moving for they charged quickly after.  The first came at him with his spear lowered, attempting to skewer the man in the belly.  ‘Tal chuckled to himself at the inferior move, he only side-stepped and moved the spear head over with his free hand.  He waited for the guard to move closer with his initial momentum and stabbed him in the chest, through his chain-armour. 
         The second guard wasn’t so silly.  He waited as ‘Tal threw his comrade’s body to the ground and moved his attention to him.  The guard reversed the grip on his spear and threw it the twenty feet at Dar’Tal.  The man rolled forward below the spear, produced another dagger and threw it at the guard.  The guard fell to the ground, clutching the dagger protruding from his chest.  ‘Tal stood over him, looking mercilessly as he tried to pull out the dagger.
         “Here,” ‘Tal said in his sly voice.  “Let me get that for you,” he smiled and grabbed hold of the knife.  In one swift motion he pulled it free and slashed the man’s throat with it.
         Shuri swept his chain with one hand to his left and caught a guard in the shoulder, ripping many pieces of flesh and skin.  The guard fell to ground as soon as the wicked spikes left his shoulder, not wanting to meet them again.  Shuri took notice and promptly stomped on the man’s neck, breaking it and efficiently killing him.  The large man turned and saw more of the guards running out from small tents and running towards them.  He turned the other way and saw ‘Tal guarding the larger tent, picking off any guards who thought to get close.  He turned again to meet three guards charging him, each one holding a three foot long blade.  Shuri bent his knees and started swinging his four foot long chain above his head with his right hand.  The guards didn’t even have a chance to think; Shuri’s spiked chain had caught each one across the stomach albeit only lightly.  Each of the soldiers looked down at their wound to check for innards and Shuri grasped this opportunity.  He ran at the center guard, shoulder down.  The guard looked up in time to have Shuri’s shoulder hit him in the face, breaking his nose.  The guard fell to the ground backwards, completely stunned.  Shuri swung his chain in an arch and caught the guard in the throat.  He pivoted to his right and caught that guard in a backhand with his fist.  He stumbled back and Shuri kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling back even more.  Releasing his chain from the first guard, he turned around to face the second surviving soldier.  He fell to his knees to plead for mercy, not wanting to have to face the large man. 
         Shuri couldn’t hear him, no one could.  The guard himself couldn’t hear his pitiful pleas for life.  It was another of Omas’ enchantments, a silent barrier, created so that Ar’Ro Forg nor his advisors would hear the battle that raged on. 
         Shuri knew this and instead of finishing the man he punched him in the head, knocking him unconscious.
         “Consider it a gift,” he said though no one could hear him.
         More guards came at him and more men fell at his feet in a futile attempt to protect their leader.  Shuri watched Omas send a flaming ball at a tent, in result sending many unready guards fleeing for their lives and many of the Khiros ending those lives.  Omas ran behind a barrier of his own men, each one guarding their leader and their leader guarding them.  Shuri knew the enchantment placed over each of the men, a protective enchantment, one that would repel any type of physical attack.  Shuri found it useful for such amateurs but he could never use such a means of magic, his battle prowess gave him pride and his scars even more so.
         He turned away from his friend only to see flames in the opposite direction.  These did not bother him, ‘Tal had probably set some tents ablaze as well.  What did make him nervous though was the crackling of the fires.  Nothing could be making a sound in this environment, it was impossible, not even a magical flame would emit noise.
         Shuri looked closer at the flames as they grew larger, even beyond what the small tent could support.  There was nothing left of the tent, yet it burned with intensity still, making more impossible noise. 
         Within the flames, Shuri saw a figure, it was dark despite the growing flames.  The figure came closer and he thought he saw a robe wrapped around it but he dismissed it for what he actually saw was a woman standing before him.  His wife.
         He couldn’t believe it, it had to be an illusion yet she was there, and she was weeping.  This struck Shuri as again impossible for he could hear her but he had to stare on at her, at his dead wife.  She looked up at him and he saw that flicker in her eyes that she always had, he could not doubt it was her.  Perhaps the barrier is down, he reasoned, that’s why he could hear her and these flames.  He ran to her but as he got closer she started to blur, then disappear.  Shuri fell to his knees and screamed at the top of his lungs to the gods.  Why did they have to take her, he wondered, why a second time? 
         He stopped his scream when he felt hands around his shoulders, he looked up and saw ‘Tal trying to pull him away from the blaze.  It was useless thought, for Dar’Tal was only half his size.
         Shuri shrugged him off with a brutal hit to the ribs with his elbow.  ‘Tal went down, clutching his chest and trying to scramble to Omas.
         Shuri ignored him now and stared at the fire again, listening to the crackling that calmed his nerves.  He could sit there in the same position all his life and never get bored, never get tired, or lonely.  The flames grew bigger and he felt the heat of the source that had killed his family.  He wanted nothing more than to cast himself to the depths of that flame, to let it be over so he could be with his wife and child again. 
         But that did not happen, for the flame did not exist.  Omas noticed it as soon as ‘Tal had pointed to Shuri.  The leader saw his friend kneeling on the ground completely still but kneeling before a fire he was not.  He was kneeling before a robed figure whose face Omas could not see. 
         His eyes went wide and he summoned forth a blade magically.  He imbued this blade with yet more magic and passed it to ‘Tal.  The skinny man knew what to do.
         He ran through the violence, through the combat that had busied every able-bodied guard in the area.  Dar’Tal ducked and weaved through them, dodging each one to get to his friend so that he might save him.
         ‘Tal was twenty feet away when the robed figure looked up at him.  He quickly covered his eyes and turned away, not wanting to meet the gaze of that creature.  He heard a shriek which he knew could not be natural and dove to the side, dodging a psionic blast.  He rolled into a crouch and watched the figure throw its hands at the man.
         He ducked the other way and the creature’s flaming dart missed ‘Tal by inches.  The man couldn’t keep doing this, he needed to throw the dagger quickly and precisely.  The robed figure knew this apparently for it threw out its hand again and tried to summon that dagger to it.  ‘Tal held on to the blade, trying not to give up his friend’s only chance at survival.  The dagger recoiled back to the skinny man and he rejoiced but only promptly for another flaming bolt came at him.  It hit him in the shin and it was unlike anything he had felt before.  It burned of course and logically it pained him to have it puncture skin and bone but it also took something with it, his very life it seemed though it hadn’t hit him in a critical area.
         He tried to pull the dart out but his hand only started to burn at the touch.  He felt his power being drained and he was close to passing out.  He had only a few more moments left to throw the short weapon in his hand and he felt as though he couldn’t do it, couldn’t summon the strength to do so.
         But he saw his friend, Shuri, kneeling at the clutches of this monster, and that sight alone gave him his strength.
         He stood shakily and gauged his enemies distance.  It was ten feet away now and ‘Tal knew he could make this shot.  He threw the dagger, and sent it spinning to the creature, hoping to kill it instantly.
         ‘Tal heard a sinister laughter and watched the dagger stop in mid-air, foiling his attempt at victory.  The creature held out its grey hand and the dagger floated in the air above it.  Black swirls in the creature’s skin started to move in a mesmerizing pattern.  The tattoos floated up from its skin and wrapped around the dagger, making it completely black.  The tattoos stripped themselves away from the dagger and the blade seemed to disappear while the black patterns dispersed in the air.
         Dar’Tal groaned and fell face-first into the sand.
         Omas saw his friend fall and knew this robed creature could not be defeated easily.  And as though the gods were against him, the other two filed out of the Ar’Ro’s tent quite quickly.  They sent flaming darts at Omas’ men and they fell in agony, confused at what had just happened. 
         What had just happened?  There was almost no way those things could have known that this assault was taking place.  Omas was quite confident his magic had worked on his psionic foes but then again he had never actually tested it before.
         Omas realized he needed to do something quick or his men would die a horrible death.  He shouted something in the ancient text and threw out his hand, creating an invisible barrier between his men and the psions.
         The flaming bolts stopped at the wall and Omas heard again the shriek that could only come from those creatures.  Each robed figure pointed to one of Omas’ men and that particular target fell to the ground, their mind twisting and breaking at the mental might of these creatures.  The leader of the Khiros watched his most trusted and loyal men die before him as they were overpowered by the powers of the Ar’Ro’s advisors.
         Omas Pack could do nothing now; his magic was useless against the collective might of those foul creatures.  He could only beg for mercy now at the hands of these torturers of the mind.

Chapter 1
         
         Screaming was the only noise that penetrated Shuri’s ears, the screaming of a young child.  He had heard that scream before and not just subconsciously, he easily recognized that scream as his own daughter’s last breath before the Droki had slain her and her mother, Shuri’s wife.  He suffered through what he deemed the most horrible pain on any world, watching his entire family slaughtered by some of the Ar’Ro’s evil mercenaries.  To this day, Shuri stays awake long into the night to find a reason why Ar’Ro Girithan had wanted him dead.  Shuri had never caused any harm to an Ar’Ro before and this was long before the Khiros.  The screaming still haunted him, knowing that he had helped in every way possible, he even offered his life as an alternate to his family’s.  But the Droki would not take his life, they were too determined to take away his wife and child, leaving him alone.  In retrospect, however, he knew that dying that day would not have been to his benefit, for the Droki would have surely killed his wife and daughter regardless of any other casualties.  If he would have died, there would be no one of Shuri Kotas’s bloodline to avenge those who did die that gruesome day.
         Shuri opened his eyes though it didn’t help much, he was certainly in a dark room for he couldn’t actually see anything.  Feeling around with his hands he could guess that he was in a carpeted room, though the wall his back was against was certainly stone. 
         He heard a groan and thought he recognized the voice as ‘Tal’s.
         “Is that you friend?” he asked lowly, not really wanting to speak at all.
         “Yes, Shuri,” replied the pained Dar’Tal.
         Shuri thought back to his last moments of consciousness, vaguely remembering ‘Tal’s injuries.
         “How does your leg fare?” Shuri asked.
         “It hurts,” said the straightforward ‘Tal.
         Shuri sighed at the response and tried to let his eyes adjust to the darkness.
         “I don’t Omas is here,” Dar’Tal said.  “I’ve searched this room, you are the only one I found.”
         “How, could you have searched the room if we cannot see?”
         “I used my hands.”
         “Then how do you know the body you found was myself?”
         Dar’Tal sighed, he hated when Shuri asked so many questions.  “At the time, I didn’t know who you were, but now that you’re awake, and you have been speaking,  I do know who you are,” said ‘Tal through clenched teeth.
         “Oh, sorry about that,” Shuri said, noting ‘Tal’s annoyance.
         ‘Tal sighed again and sat in the darkness quietly with Shuri for the better part of an hour.
         “Where do you suppose we are?” asked Shuri.
         “I’m not sure, I‘m not the one who threw us down here,” said ‘Tal.  “However, from the absolute darkness I can gather that we are underground a ways.”
         Shuri knew that any normal man who heard ‘Tal’s reasoning would have certainly asked him the difference between subterranean darkness and normal darkness.  Shuri knew what ‘Tal would say for he asked the same question once.  Quite a long time ago, ‘Tal had spent nearly five years living by himself in the forests of Silisatheon, the paradise of the world.  What most people don’t know is that in the forest is a gateway to an unspeakable evil, far below the surface of Silisatheon.  ‘Tal had found the very same gate and he even entered it, back when his curiosity was quite different from how it was now.  He found that evil and he destroyed it but it had taken him four years to finish the task.  He wandered the underground caverns of Silisatheon, searching for the exit to the lighted world.  He found it, but his life was never the same.  Bright light bothered him greatly, and loud noises were nearly deafening on his ears.  He also could tell the difference between whether he was underground in darkness or whether he was just in a very dark room, though he couldn’t actually see anything.
         “How far would you say?” asked Shuri.
         “Close to two, maybe three hundred feet.
         Shuri shook his head and let out an explosive gasp of breath.
         “Don’t be afraid, Shuri.  It’s very well supported from what I can tell.”
         “I’m not afraid of being here, ‘Tal, I don’t like the prospect of being so far underground.  I am not as acquainted to it as you are and it is quite different,” Shuri explained. 
         ‘Tal snorted a laugh, still thinking Shuri was scared of being underground.
         The two heard footsteps coming from outside the doorway and they readied themselves for whoever might come through the door.  The lock clicked and the door opened to reveal a figure standing, holding another, limp figure.  He threw the person into the cell and locked the door back shut. 
         “Who are you?” asked ‘Tal almost in a hostile tone. 
         Then man gasped for breath and Shuri and ‘Tal heard him shuffle along the ground to sit up against the wall.  “’Tal, it is you.  Where is Shuri,” Omas asked, exhausted.
         “I am right here, friend,” replied Shuri.
         “Oh, thank the gods.  They will not take you then,” said Omas, certainly relieved.
         “Who?” asked ‘Tal.
         “They. Did you not see them?”
         “I saw someone,” replied ‘Tal.
         “Then you know how horrid it looked right?”
         “No, I couldn’t quite make him out.”
         “Be glad, it is not a sight I wish to repeat,” said Omas with a shudder.
         “Who was that?” asked Shuri.
         “Who is not the correct term.  That…thing, is certainly not human.  I cannot describe to you what had happened and let’s pray to the gods that we leave here without having to lay our eyes upon it again.”
         Shuri nodded, not wanting to push the stressed man.
         “Do you know where we are?” ‘Tal asked.
         “No, no one would tell me.  There are more prisoners, more rebellion heroes, locked up as we are.  That thing and its other two kin take them away and torture them, trying to gain secrets to the next rebel group,” said Omas.
         “Wait, more rebellion members?  Sûrgoth is here?” asked ‘Tal excitedly.
         “Please, the man doesn’t exist,” Shuri said in a groan.
         “Then why did you call him a man?”
         “Because that’s what legends say him to be.”
         ‘Tal was quite disappointed in his companion.  Ever since he had heard of the man Sûrgoth ‘Tal had believed him to exist.  Sûrgoth was one of the first men of the Silisatheon desert to liberate slaves and destroy one of the Ar’Ro’s whole power.  In his time, it is said, he took out over thirty Ar’Ro’s political power single-handedly.  He was commonly known to have worn scale armour the golden colour of the sand he lived on.  A brown, thin cloak was worn over top the armour, camouflaging him further with its intricate sweeping designs that seemed to match the sand itself.  What was really amazing though, were his weapons.  He had gathered a long time ago from an adventure he had taken up as a teen, a bow and sword that could dazzle a dragon of finer taste.  His bow, Carraksun, was actually just a stone, and on command, it collected sand from the desert and constructed itself, drawstring and all.  His sword, Fqay, could steal light from an area and fire it as a blast of energy, dealing significant damage. 
         These were common legends, nearly everybody in the Silisatheon desert knew who Sûrgoth was and what he did for the common people, but what was a mystery was his death.  Some people say he was captured and killed by an Ar’Ro of high power while others will say that he was caught in a sandstorm and others will even say he found the paradise Silisatheon and does not want to return, arrogantly leaving behind the people he defended for so long.
         “’Tal, I don’t think I would recognize Sûrgoth if I saw him,” Omas said.
         “Yes you would, you cannot hide that kind of power,” said ‘Tal.
         Shuri sighed.  “He doesn’t exist ‘Tal, it’s just a story to give us hope and you’ve taken it too seriously.”
         “No, you’re wrong.  He exists, you just like to look on the darker side of things don’t you?” said Tal.
         “What is that supposed to mean?” Shuri asked gruffly.
         “Since Terrokiss and Selia died all you’ve screaming about is your loss.  Can you not see the gain?”
         “What gain!” Shuri was now quite angry.  “You think there is gain in your family’s murder?  You think that genocide is something to be taken lightly and dismissed when someone wants to converse on another subject?  I cannot think that way nor can I believe you would, you careless dog!  I should murder you for the very thought of what you just said!”
         ‘Tal shook his head.  Shuri always had to make a big deal of everything and ‘Tal was getting frustrated.
         “Both of you!” Omas said, raising his voice, an uncommon occurrence.  “Be still with your arguments or we will never get out of here.  It is what they want.”
         “Who?” asked ‘Tal uncaringly.
         “Those advisors of the Ar’Ro.  This is the torture I was talking about.  They don’t physically pain you, they mentally burn you to pieces, stripping you of your will and taking what they need later,” Omas said.
         Shuri looked to ‘Tal though he couldn’t actually see the man.  “It is not fair, friend that I judge you so when I call you careless.  Many times you have saved my life and many more shall you find the opportunity to prove it again.  Take my apology and exchange it with your own in the hope that we may throw this event to the past.”
         ’Tal looked down to the ground before nodding, more to himself.  “I forgive you and I am sorry.  It was stupid what I said and-“ he started but was cut off by the noise of the door unlocking again.
         A man appeared from behind the door, dressed in a brown robe.  He looked at each one in turn before speaking. 
         “Get up,” he said.  His voice was harsh, as though he had been using it quite extensively.
         The trio stood up, not wanting to put Omas’ warning to the test. 
         The man lead them out the cell and down a long hallway.  Looking around, they could see that the stone of the walls was smooth and worked. 
         Shuri found it weird that the man hadn’t bound their arms or legs, he could easily run away right now.  But his thoughts were interrupted by the laughter of the brown robed man.
         “You cannot run that easily, Shuri,” said the figure in the robe.  “It would be quite difficult, that I guarantee you.”
         The large man was shocked at how this man knew his thoughts, his intentions, even his name.
         “Do not be too alarmed,” said the robed man.  “It is common that we psions can read thoughts of you pesky humans.  If not, how would we know how torture you?” he said maliciously.
         Many thoughts rushed through Shuri’s head.  How could he escape?  How could he fight back with this thing knowing his every move planned?  What was about to happen to him now?  Then he assaulted with thoughts of despair and his family’s death.  He walked with his head down as the psion laughed quite loudly ahead of him.
         “What’s so funny?” Omas asked the creature.
         “Shuri is being given thoughts of family that died.  He hurts inside,” and he laughed all the louder.
         Shuri realized what was happening; this thing wasn’t just laughing because of his thoughts, but more because he was being projected these thoughts of pain and sadness.  He concentrated and those feelings washed away, revealing a new emotion.  Anger.
         With a throaty yell, Shuri rushed past his two friends and jumped at the psion’s back in a dive.  He hit something hard and fell to the ground, dazed.
         “Shuri,” the thing said in an attempt at a calming voice.  “Try not think when you hit me.  I read minds, remember.”
         Shuri groaned and felt himself rising, levitating.  The Ar’Ro’s advisor was pulling the man along as he was suspended in midair.  Omas looked to ‘Tal and he finally believed him; these psionic powers were quite powerful.
         The group finally reached a chamber with torches hanging from the walls, casting light and shadows in every direction.  Various contraptions were laid out in the room, most of which, Omas assumed, were torture devices and the others were most likely party favours in the same category. 
         “This where you three be living for next lifetime,” said the psion.  “You will not enjoy, that I guarantee you.”
         ‘Tal was fearful, frightening devices were spread out all over the room.  Things he hadn’t even imagined that could hurt someone.  He was shackled with his two friends to the wall and awaited the pain and suffering that was yet to come.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-          -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

         He wandered around the short tower in the middle of the desert, trying to discern an opening for a door.  He just couldn’t seem to find it, though he had used it quite often. 
         He circled the thirty foot perimeter again before looking up at the tip of the tower, forty feet away.  He felt as a fool would feel in such a situation, unable to bring himself to do something so simple as locating the door.  Then, he heard a grating noise, stone against stone.  He quickly pressed himself up against the wall and listened for another clue of where this elusive door may be.  Then he saw it, a figure walking off in the moonlight, away from the tower.  It was just a guard but he must have exited the tower somehow.  He walked quietly to where the guard had exited and took a very thorough look around.  Still, he couldn’t fin the door.  Then, he remembered something.  He kneeled down and put his fingers into the sand, feeling a crease under the tower he lifted up and up the door went, opening easily for him. 
He stepped inside the tower before letting the door shut behind.  Pulling the hood of his brown robe up over his head, he continued down a spiral staircase, lowering himself into the depths of Ar’Ro Forg’s prison.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-          -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

         Omas clenched his teeth as the hot iron pole seared his flesh, leaving a nasty blister.  He smashed his head against the stone wall but felt nothing, the burn was far too painful. 
         Meanwhile, Shuri had to listen to the screams of his two companions, knowing full well that his turn would soon be at hand.  He thought of his wife and daughter and thought of the peace they had brought him earlier in life but those memories were denied by the torment of Omas and ‘Tal.
         The robed figure pulled the iron rod away from Omas and threw it into a hearth, were a fire roared yet, no wood could be seen.
         “Omas,” said the powerful psion.  “How does feel?”
         Omas tried hard not to scream out in agony but something subconscious told him it was not a good idea, he needed to yell long and loud.
         The psion concentrated harder but Omas would not succumb to it, would not let it have its way.  If he was to lead a rebellion, he would have to start again now.
         The psion learned of this via his telepathy and was outraged that the weak human would not do as he bid.  He was in control now, not Omas.
         “Fine, human.  We shall continue tomorrow,” the psion said as he walked out the door, leaving Omas, Dar’Tal and Shuri with their arms hanging up above them, chained to the wall.
         “This sucks,” said ‘Tal.
         “Yes, thank you so much ‘Tal,” said Shuri.  “Without such perception as yours, maybe we could be-“
         “Shut up!’ Omas yelled, letting out his pain in the loud shout.
         The two arguers looked to their friend and nodded, knowing not to make their situation worse.
         “How are we going to get out of this?” asked Shuri.
         ‘Tal thought about it and Omas only grunted a wicked laughter.
         “How do you think?  In a coffin,” replied the grim Omas.
         “No, I meant alive.”
         “I didn’t.”
         ‘Tal shook his head, trying to come up with something before his friends killed each other.  He looked around the room and saw a thin spike on the floor beside Shuri. 
         “Shuri, hand me that piece of metal there,” he commanded quickly.
         Shuri looked down at the shard then looked back up at ‘Tal, thinking him mad.
         “Just kick it here then,” ‘Tal rephrased.
         Shuri did so and the spike rolled to ‘Tal’s feet.
         ”One moment, please,” the man said.  He pinched the spike between his feet and used his ankles to spring himself up.  He bent his back and brought his feet up over his head, catching the spike in his hands.  His hands were free before his feet even hit the ground.
         He unlocked Omas and Shuri quickly then walked to the door, throwing his head to the wood in a flash.  He listened for many moments before opening it silently and slipping into the corridor.  Omas and Shuri followed him down the hallway and were wary about all the cells lining the way.
         They came to a four-way intersection and ‘Tal stopped to check his direction.  He turned his head one way, then the next, then decided on left, being the only direction with a draft.
         The three passed many more cells before coming to a larger room with many guards lounging around, relaxing.
         “This will be harder without our weapons,” said ‘Tal.
         “I cannot fight,” said Omas, clutching his ribs, where the poker had burned him.          
         “Use your spells then,” said Dar’Tal.
         “I can’t, this is very excruciating, be glad I can even walk,” replied Omas.
         “Fine then, Shuri, let’s go,” ‘Tal said with vengeance.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-          -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

         He walked farther down the corridor until he came to a particular door, a door with a feather protruding from under the door.  He knelt down and took the feather, putting it into a fold in his brown robe.  He knelt down further and put his mouth to the crack between the door and the floor.
         “Heruia, are you there?” he called.
         “Yes, yes, I am here now get me free,” a high pitched voice quickly iterated from behind the door.
         “Fine, hold on a second,” from a fold in his cloak he produced a small flask of liquid.  He uncorked the vial and poured the contents into the lock, letting it drip down the door as well.  After a few moments he threw away the bottle and pulled on the door, opening it easily.  A halfling stood in the doorway, leaning up against the door jam.  He was wearing only a common shirt and brown pants.
         “I love those potions,” said Heruia. 
         “As do I.  Did you get it?”
         “Of course, you think I would forget?”
         “I think you wouldn’t care.”
         “If it were to save my life-“
         “Oh, you care about someone’s life then?”
         “Just my own,” replied Heruia slyly.
         The robed man snickered, he knew his friend well.
         “Let’s go now, I need to get out of these disgusting clothes,” said Heruia.
         The two made their way down the hall and cautiously found there way back to the tower entrance.
         “Did you hear about Omas Pack?” asked the halfling.          
         “Only what I saw earlier, he did not get far.”
         The halfling laughed a squeaky laugh then turned to his tall friend.
         “Bah, you think he could kill three psions with twenty men?  That’s silly.  No, I heard he and his pals are being held here though.  And if I’m not mistaken, I’m quite sure I heard them getting their flesh ripped off or something.  It sounded pretty horrid.”
         The man stopped, looking back into the prison, then looked to his halfling friend.
         “No, no, no.  There is no way I’m going back in there, not with all those stinky, smelly, disgusting, repulsive-“
         “Okay, stay here,” said the man as he turned.  “And kill anyone that approaches,” he added as an afterthought. 
         The robed man ran off into the prison, leaving Heruia behind.
         “But, I don’t know how to kill!” the halfling hollered before his friend disappeared into the darkness.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-          -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

         ‘Tal wasted no time seeking his revenge.  He ran full tilt into the guard’s lounge room and started his assault with a swift jump kick to a man’s back, sending the guard to the ground. 
         Each guard turned to regard the skinny man then watched as Shuri barrelled in behind him, taking down two men with his shoulders alone.  He pivoted and punched a man savagely in the side of the head, felling him with ease.  He roared and without grace kicked an approaching man in the stomach.  ‘Tal followed behind him and attacked anyone Shuri hadn’t taken for himself.  Now most of the men had enough sense to draw their sword instead of trying to take on the rather large man unarmed.  One particular man cut Shuri in the arm but the monolithic Shuri didn’t notice, he only picked up the guard and threw him into a stone wall.  Another rushed ‘Tal with his short sword drawn, thinking the thin man defeated for he had no weapon.  He stabbed at ‘Tal’s midsection, hoping to injure him but ‘Tal’s reflexes surpassed the guard’s sevenfold it seemed for before the man knew what was happening, ‘Tal grabbed hold of the guard’s wrist and twisted it, releasing the blade.  He caught it on his foot and lifted his leg, catapulting the sword into ‘Tal’s hand.  He sliced the guard’s throat in a quick backhand and readied himself for the next attack. 
         Shuri charged an unfortunate fellow and cleared a short path for the opportunity taking ‘Tal.  The skinny man rolled in Shuri’s wake and pierced a guard’s chest mail with his blade.
         After the duo had fought for many moments the guards seemed to disappear into the corpse pile in the middle of the room.  ‘Tal and Shuri were both tired, their fury vented and their adrenaline released. 
         “Good work,” said Omas as he walked into the room, clutching his abdomen.
         ‘Tal nodded and Shuri grunted in acknowledgement but the slight mirth between the three was extinguished when a score guards came running at them from where they came.
         Omas looked to Shuri in hope that the large man would save him.
         “I cannot fight, Omas.  I need rest,” pleaded Shuri.
         “Great, all that work to die,” said ‘Tal.
         The guards came closer and created a circle around the trio, pointing their blades at them in hostility.
         “You must cease your attempt at escape,” said one of the guards.  “You will only die if you continue.”
         ‘Tal looked to Shuri, then to Omas and then to the ground.  He had been in too many prisons and had stayed in the dark subterranean region for too long to be sent there again any time soon. 
         He called upon something deep inside him, something more powerful than Shuri at a good time.  He had never released such power, he had been gathering, storing energy for this very moment when he would need it.  He closed his eyes and concentrated, reaching within himself and pulling out something he hoped he never have to use again. 
         His eyes opened and they were not the same eyes ‘Tal had a few seconds ago.  They were completely white, almost glowing, with no pupils or irises.  His short sword had changed too.  It was now a red and black streaked blade that had a sinister curve to it.  He took a breath and looked one guard in the eye, preparing himself, testing his power.  The guard tried to look away but ‘Tal’s gaze was far too strong.  The man threw down his sword and fell to the ground, covering his face and screaming something incoherent. 
         ‘Tal took this as his cue.  In literally no time at all he reached the first enemy in a giant leap.  He took the man’s weapon wrist with his free hand and stabbed him in the throat with his blade.  The man had no time to utter a cry of pain, though in that split second he felt a pain that was far too indescribable to be real.  ‘Tal palmed the man’s falling blade and it too mutated to ‘Tal’s signature sword design. 
         Dar’Tal continued his brutal assault, moving from one man to the next, slashing stabbing and spinning in a span of nearly ten seconds.  He had killed eighteen men in ten seconds and he wasn’t nearly finished.  He saw the last two trying to leave, though to him they moved quite slowly, so slowly in fact that he could have had a tea before they were out of his sight.  He decided to end their life by burying his blades into their backs via a quick throw. 
         The two men fell to the floor and died in horrid pain.  ‘Tal’s breathing became quicker, a result of his body trying to catch up with what just happened.  Omas and Shuri caught him as he fell to the ground.  They let him down softly, for neither of them could carry him. 
         “This is not good,” Shuri commented.
         “Not at all,” Omas agreed.
         “Can you enchant him somehow?  Make him lighter or make him levitate?”
         Omas hesitated slightly before answering.  “I…umm…No, I need to get rid of this pain first.  Can you not just lift him yourself?”
         “I am far too exhausted, I would surely fall under his weight.”
         “Then let me help,” came a voice from behind the two.
         Shuri whipped his head around to see a man leaning against the far wall, wearing an ornate brown robe.
         “You,” he said in a low voice.
         The man snickered.  “Alas, I knew you would think what you are thinking.  You think I am with the Ar’Ro don’t you?”
         He didn’t even give Shuri a chance to answer-not that he was even considering it.
         Omas now turned to look at the man and nodded.  “This is not an advisor, Shuri.  Be not alarmed.”          
         The man strode to ‘Tal and kneeled over his nearly lifeless body.  “He is not dead.  Interesting.”
         “Why is that?” asked Omas.
         “Well, any normal man like…forgive me, I do not know his name, would have died long ago from that attack.  He, however, is completely stable, absolutely unbelievable.”
         Omas was about to open his mouth when the man held up his hand.  “I will explain later.  You, umm,” he pointed to Shuri, trying to figure out his name.
         “Shuri.”
         “Yes, drink this,” from a fold in his pocket he produced a leather flask.  He tossed it to Shuri and gave him instructions to drink it.  Shuri did as the man said and felt himself regaining strength with every passing moment.
         “Where can I get some more of this?” asked Shuri.
         The man looked up and shook his head.  “You don’t want to be drinking that on a daily basis, Shuri.  That small dose will hit you hard later, I can certainly assure you, but for now, you are fine.  You should probably carry your friend.”
         Shuri nodded and easily picked up the skinny ‘Tal.
         “And you, friend,” said the man, looking to Omas.  “For your pain.”
         He pulled from another pocket a piece of bread wrapped in leather and handed it to the pained wizard.
         “Eat it, it will help,” said the cloaked man.
         Omas looked at Shuri who was nodding to him, silently telling him to eat the bread.  He opened his mouth and chewed on the bread, awaiting its effects.  After a few moments he swallowed and started to feel the pain in his ribs diminish.
         “What was that you gave me, stranger?” he asked.
         “That is a bread I baked earlier this week, for such an occasion,” said the man.
         “I thank you for being prepared then,” said Omas.
         “As do I,” grunted Shuri.
         “Let us save the gratitude for later, please.  The advisor is not far from here and I would not be surprised if he heard this commotion.”
         “Agreed,” said Omas.  “Let’s move.”
         The three able-bodied men started running down the hallway back towards the exit when Shuri remembered something.
         “My weapon,” he huffed.  “I need my weapon.”
         “No time,” the cloaked man replied.  “I will replace it.”
         “You cannot replace this item, sir,” though he contradicted his rescuer his spiked chain was quite important to him.
         The cloaked man stopped.  “I am sorry, Shuri, but I cannot go back and risk being captured by the Ar’Ro’s advisor.  I am too important to the world to die here.”
         “Really,” said Shuri, quite aggravated.  Who did this man think he was?  Too important to the world…  “Important in what way?”
         The man sighed and shook his head.  He threw back his hood and raised the bow in his left hand.  From his back he produced an arrow with silver fletching.  He nocked the arrow and fired it back down the hall, the direction they were coming from.
         Shuri and Omas were quite amazed at the man’s speed but not until after they heard a dying man’s shriek did they realize the purpose of the spectacle.
         “Let’s go!” yelled the archer.  “They know you are gone now!”
         The trio now took off again, Shuri content with who this man was and with leaving behind his weapon to save him.
         “Where did you find that bow, sir?” asked Omas, confused at the weapon’s sudden arrival.
         “I found it a long time ago,” said the man.
         “Okay, but where did you get it from just now?  Surely it is too big for you to have slung it around your shoulder without my easily noticing it.”
         “It is special,” said the man.  He whispered its name and it started to seemingly fall apart, leaving a trail of sand behind it as he ran along.
         “That is Carraksun, the bow of Sûrgoth Kilnoth, Omas,” Shuri said, unable still to believe he was saying the very words.
         “Aye, that is me, Shuri,” said the rebellion leader.  “I am Sûrgoth.”
         Omas nearly fell when he heard the words.  This man was a hero to him, his every inspiration and he had been rescued by him.  He was quite glad that this had happened, he and Sûrgoth could certainly take down Ar’Ro Forg with their combined might.
         The three reached the large tower a few moments later, greeted by the halfling Heruia. 
         “Where were you Sûrgoth?” he asked.
         “I was saving Omas, I told you,” the man replied.
         Omas was shocked he had known his name.
         “And what happened here?” asked Sûrgoth, looking around to see that a few guards lay on the ground dead.
         “You told me to kill anyone who approached,” the halfling answered slyly.
         “You can’t kill,” said Sûrgoth, “You can barely fight.  Why, you would be lucky not to cry in pain if you stubbed your toe.”
         Heruia looked to the ground, quite embarrassed for he knew Sûrgoth was right.
         Just then a woman wearing a sleeveless shirt and shorts walked from around the other side of the tower, holding her two swords before her.  She visibly relaxed when she saw Sûrgoth.
         “You have made it out alive,” she said in an accent that made Omas believe elven was her first language.
         “Yes Kro-en,” he replied.
         “That is good,” said the elf, sheathing her short swords.  “Who are they,” she asked, motioning to Omas and Shuri.
         “This is Omas Pack and Shuri Kotas standing and atop Shuri is Dar’Tal.  They lead the Khiros as I’ve told you before,” said Sûrgoth.
         Kro-en nodded, she understood what had happened with the Khiros at Ar’Ro Forg’s camp.  Sûrgoth had made her watch, wanting to see the last of the Ar’Ros be defeated.  They had both seen Omas and his group get defeated by the Ar’Ro’s advisors and if he had known that they were here, in this prison, he certainly would have launched a full assault as opposed to a one-man rescue.
         ”I know,” said Kro-en in a bored tone.
         “Good, since we all know each other, we should be leaving…now,” Sûrgoth said rather quickly.  He started away from the tower and Heruia followed closely behind him, filling in the details of prison life.  Kro-en shrugged and followed alone while Shuri and Omas walked in the back, talking about their new plans to take out Ar’Ro Forg.