NaNo

“Gather round, gather round, if ye wish to hear the tale of Hicrotles’ Fall.” Shouted the old man as he stepped out of the Fickle Wind. He had arrived late last night, during a treacherous storm in a single man Grithni, with a bag full of gold and a tattered old robe that looked as though it had been through more than was probably necessary. When he arrived he had posted a sign, on the front of the inn, saying that he would be telling the whole of the fable “Hicrotles’ Fall.” It was nearly noon as he seated himself on the old rusted rocking chair with a semicircle of eager children and young women who had nothing better to do. He sighed and settled into a comfortable position and began to talk.

"Long ago the World was not so peaceful, the cities did not get on with each other and there was a general mistrust among the smaller salvage and mining towns of the larger ship cities which ruled over them, and the ship cities were fearful of the seven mighty cloud cities: Lithnal, Darkali, Thiril, Dradra, Dintor, Hinundo and Hicrotles.

“Here, in the time before your fathers’ fathers’ fathers, before the Treaty of Hicrotles was signed by the Six Peace Makers, there was an uneasy peace. People could go to the surface
without an armed escort and the world was rich. Before the Lost Ships were found, there was a few skirmishes a year between minor towns competing for a new mine or salvage but that was all, the cloud cities were not concerned, for what could harm them? And because their masters did not care the ship cities did not care.

“Such was the environment when the first blows of war were struck though no one knew that it was war. Looking back it seems obvious, but we are not blessed prefect foresight, as we are with hindsight. The first registered action was the taking of the Lith Niral, a cruise liner that was renouned for its tours of the surface and its fine accomadations. Registered to Lithnal, she was a beautiful ship, the like of which has not been made since. She was on her first filght after being fully renovated to provide better service, a record number of passengers were on wait lists to board her, as she went to the surface to visit the Great Temples. A popular tourist attraction, as well as a famed archeological site, is was theorized that the Temples were really tombs to some of the greatest Kings from when men lived on the surface.

“They didn’t know how correct they were then, but that is for later in our tale. Just as the Lith Niral was coming down a group of acheologists had uncovered an entrance to one of the larger and better preserved Temples. This was a monumental discovery, as the closest that anyone had gotten to entering one of these tombs was a supply shed across the way that had evidentaly be used during the construction of the Temples. They left a journal entry saying that they were entering the tomb to see what was inside. Never were they heard from again.

“The Lith Niral landed a full three days later, and the first officers off the ship found a wind toren camp but no sign of any airship. The camp was searched and the journals found, but there were no remarkable items other than the discovery of an entry into the Temples, this was quickly roped off but that was the extent of which the discovery’s privacy was protected.

“That night when the dinner was served nearly ninety people were missing from the formal dinner that was served every night. Nothing much was thought of it as a few people every night were sick or simply took a meal in their rooms. The missing people this time was an unusually high number, and although some had undoubtabely suffered ground sickness, it was thought that a few had probably gone into the Temple. A few of the night watch was sent out to find either the missing passengers or sign of the archeologists. They did not return by the end of the mid-night shift.

“It was during the changing of the bridge that the door ways were opened. We must assume this is the time for surely the bridge watch would have noticed such unusual activity in the normally closed and locked hatches. The night guard was quickly overcome throughout the ship as they boarded and made short work of all opposition.

“It was only when the creatures entered the bridge was the alarm sounded and the section hatches closed. The first blows of war were struck and only a single unsteady transmission by radio came through to warn of what would come. The last words broadcasted from the security chambers were these: ‘The Temple, by Ichitoku, its opening.’ That was all that was heard and because the ship was never found and no evidence of foul play was to be found, the cities ignored this warning, the only warning they had before the onslaught began. Lithnal took notice and forbid its ships from tying down during the night.

“Three years later the name Lith Niral was mostly forgotten and mentioned only by the Licsensing Agency in Lithnal as the reason for an obscure law. But the ship lived as did many others that were lost in storms and while not confirmed by sight to have crashed could have done little else. In the small mining town of Senta on a dark day, she was just below the cloud layers, a large ship came asking permission to dock for repairs, it identified itself as the Lith Niral, of Lithnal and was granted access to the docks almost immediately. As soon as it had docked the forward hatches were opened and an emergency shuttle bay opened. Out of the hatches came a horde of creatures, later they were called Silbith, but now they were vicious creatures that attacked everyone on sight. Needless to say, they town sounded an evacuation alarm and the small airships began to buzz away out as bees would from a disturbed hive.

“Then out of the infamous Lith Niral swarmed many small one-man armed Glithsar, they immediately began to open fire upon the fleeing ships and crowding those that were just preparing to take off back into their berths. It was an hour before the distress call was finally silenced and the city stood still, for nothing left upon it lived.

“This attack was followed by several more as the mining town went rogue and served as a mobile platform for mounting attacks on other small cities. It was during these early weeks of the war that the name Silbith was created for it was the sound that most of the creatures made. Many things were learned from the last emergency transmissions of the captured cities: the invaders seemed to be invulnerable to harm of any kind, for no one had seen one die though the armed forces of the cities were some of the best men, and the cities that were taken shortly after Senta had been taken never seemed to need any supplies.

“Always, though, the Lith Niral was the first ship to approach a town and from that point it was only a matter of time, the towns began to raise a clamor toward their feudal leaders, the ship cities, who began to pull in their area of influence, demanding that the cloud cities come to their aid. The seven great cities ignored the pleas until a ship city was approached by one of its vassal towns asking for troops in exchange for food stuff. The cargo ship that left the smaller town was not just any large hold flier, but the faint markings along its side identified it as the Lith Niral and the city rang out its alarms and troops were called into position, as the battle scarred Lith was approaching through a hail of cannon fire, the town behind it moved off to join the ring of towns surrounding the ship city. No distress call was ever received from the ship city.

“It was not long after this event that the Seven as they were back then gathered on Dradra to discuss the problem of seemingly unstoppable mauraders who came and killed all in their way. Sometime during this the number of ship cities taken had grown and months into the deliberations a message came into the Council chambers. A message from one self styled Mosacium, Rex Vivimortuum. The message was rather simple; it stated that the cloud city of Hicrotles was being held under siege and was surrounded by a radiation field to prevent any and all communications with the city.

“This was worrying to the Council, partially because the invaders would dare to attack one of the mightiest and greatest cities of all time; the cloud cities at that time held approximately equal power, and also because the Rex Vivimortuum was a vicious character and did not seem prone to negotiation and could obviously carry out an invasion of the city rather than hold it hostage.

“After many days of speaking and arguing passionately with each other they came to a descision, the Lord Mayor of Hicrotles would be sent to negotiate for his city, while the other six were to find a way of stopping the hordes of Mosacium.

“For a short while the Lord Mayor flew in fear of what awaited him at his city, but this shortly turned to fear of his own life, as he recalled the rumors that spread concerning the Silbith and their advance toward the cities higher in the feudal system. The tales of blood and human prisoners were completely false he told himself, after all what king would eat those he just conquered. It simply wouldn’t make sense.

“When he arrived at the barricade surrounding his beloved city, now wreathed in its own exuast fumes. His ship was pulled in by the enemy mages toward the Silbith flagship, the Lith Niral, and was grappled by the docking plates. The hatch was pried open and the Lord Mayor was met by a smell of decay and death.

“Then the Silbith underlings shambled in and beckoned him to follow. The smell of decay grew stronger around the Silbith monsters, and they walked as though they had metal rods stuck through their joints and experienced pain every time they moved. They appeared to be made of half rotted flesh and had no expression, in fact, some of them kept dropping little pieces of themselves on the floor, yet they never seemed to diminish. The revulsion he must have felt toward them would be undescribable to any who had not been in that situation before. The mere stench of the Lith Niral, even after all these years would still be powerful enough to send the strongest of you running with terror in your hearts, a clinging terror like none which you have experienced before, such fear that only the most terrible storms of Legend could create for this small town.” And with that the old man stood up from the chair and announced that he would resume his story the next day, as the day was getting too bright for his eyes. He moved back toward the Fickle Wind’s front door, being careful to keep in the shadows.

Later that night, as Gerold, the keeper of the Fickle Wind was cleaning the last of his glasses, and preparing to close up for the night, the stranger approached him. “I want you to get these materials for me by tomorrow.”

Gerold looked at the list: Black cloth, 3 sq. yards; white cloth, 2 sq. yards; yellow tinted glass, 2 1.5 by 1 inch panes; a few other meaningless items, and then he lokked straight at the stranger for the first time and notice the blue eyes that were nearly hidden by the jet black hair distinctive of mages, and the tattered robes were a faded black and dirty white. But they were not nearly as noticed as the commanding presence of the cold and emotionless brilliant blue, like sapphires glittering in the sunlight, eyes. The command in them was unmistakable, as though he was used to being obeyed immediately by willing slaves. “This will cost money, Sir.”

“Here.” A soft faded brown yellow bag landed on the stone topped counter next to him. “I expect the extra back.” The thinly veiled threat in the tone of his silky smooth voice was ambiguous and simply stated that if he was not obeyed very bad things would happen to the offending person.

“Y-yes, sir, I-I’ll have the items by tomorrow night.” Gerold stammered as he quickly snatched the leather bag and backed away, cautiously as though he expected something to jump on him from behind. When he looked back the man was gone, and Gerold realized that he still didn’t know the stranger’s name.

Gerold entered the room he shared with his wife, and shivered in relief, here he felt safe from the dark man who haunted his inn. His wife asked, “What is wrong, dear?” He glanced over his shoulder as he turned to face, just to make sure that the door was locked, and the steel dead bolt thrown to.

“That man came to tell me to buy some stuff for him.”

“Oh, really, which man?”

“You know, the one who arrived last night, he seemed to want it soon and looked ready to kill anyone that got in his way.”

“Oh, I didn’t like the look of him, but he seems nice enough and he must be a talented story teller, all those kids were riveted to his tale of Hicrotles. So, he can’t be all that bad. Come to bed, I’m sure it will be fine tomorrow.”


The next day the stranger appeared a little before noon and sat down in the same chair that he sat in the before. He looked slightly upset, as Gerold was not to be found. Most attributed his grumpiness to a lack of breakfast. Once again, “Gather round, gather round if ye wish to hear the tale Hicrotles’ Fall.”

“Why have you told such a story to my children?” A voice, a voice in the crowd, a vicious voice in the crowd, a demanding voice in the crowd shouted out, “You gave her nightmares such as she has not had in many years!”

The man stood there for a moment, a moment that seemed to stretch on forever hanging on a silver thread stretched over a sharp wicked looking knife, as mice moved it back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Then it burst and the silver thread was a beam of sunlight reflacted off the metal shutters of the house across the way, the stranger held the knife in his hand as mice ran frantically away from his pocket. The people stood there staring at him as the wind picked up and as the shutter began to move ever so slightly, so did the thread of light, moved with each oscillation closer toward the cloaked stranger as he stood there with the knife in his hand and the mice crawling into the sunlight and staggering, struck blind by the light as bright, brighter than any they had never seen before. “Who dares to question my judgement of the tales I impart upon you?” A sneer showed, as the knife rose swiftly into the air coming back down into his outstretched hand, landing perfectly.

The crowd slowly took a single step backwards before those in the back began to question, “What?” “What is it?” “What is going on?” Why are you backing away?” The stranger turned on his heels and looked at the doorway to the inn, between it and him was the thread of light and it was slowly swinging closer to him with a rhythmic, periodic pattern. The wind began to pick up speed and the light came closer still. The stranger looked stymied by this development, then he seemed to think. He addressed the crowd.

“You,” he said pointing at the woman who had cried out against the content of his tale, “give me that cloak and I will forget this incident.” The sheer command and threat in the voice was intense, like nothing she had heard before, almost without thinking she moved to obey him, walking up the steps to hand him, ever so gently, her gray, artfully beaded, cloak.

The man took no notice of the cloak but put it over himself and walked quickly back to the dorrway of the Fickle Wind. There he closed the door after tossing the fancifully embroidered cloak behind him, so as to allow the woman to retrieve it. She did, hurrying to pick it up as soon as the door was closed, looking slightly confused as to why she was up on the porch but that was let to rest, for she did not want to be ridiculed by her peers.

Gerold arrived then and noticed the crowd out side his inn. “What is everyone hanging around for?” he asked, politely but firmly, of a man standing just below the porch steps, dressed in a tan overcoat, reaching to his shins, and not quite concealing the blue pants he wore beneath them, nor the black boots.

“It seems a nice day out, I think I’ll go flying today.” He responded vaguely, as though he were talking more to himself than to Gerold. The woman standing on the porch was quickly hurrying away and back to her home.

Gerold walked in to his establishment, and saw that the strange man was just sitting across the way, leaning on the steps, holding a glass jar of some red substance. Without looking up the man turned and walked up the steps, back stiff and straight, to his room. Gerold set the supplies that he had been shopping for on the bar and sorted out thew things that the man had asked for, the cloth, wires, glass, lithium, magnesium, bottles of oil, small vails, and a sewing needle.

Steping slowly upwards, he managed to take the longest possible time getting to the tall, dark man’s room. He rapped softly on the door before pushing it open with much creaking. The stranger was standing stock still in a near pitch black room, the only light coming from the open doorway. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, Gerold began to make out the room, he already knew where everything was, but the stranger’s affairs were strewn about on the floor. Here, a cane, about five feet long, with a an intricately carved hand piece. There, a table that wasn’t there when he had cleaned the room only a few days ago, laden with glass bottles full of the dark, shiny, red substance that he had seen the man drinking down in the common room. Now though, in that dim lighting, the liquid took on a more sinister cast. The bad was made quite neatly, as though it hadn’t been slept in at all since it was last made by himself. The walls were a pale blue shadow as though the night had entered the room and stolen all the color. The color was leaving, going away and he was not felling well.

Suddenly Gerold felt as if he were falling, falling down, down out of the sky, toward the surface, in a controlled fall as though something else were guiding him. Down, down out of sky at incredible speed, towards the ground, then as if by a miracle the dream went away and Gerold tumbled over at the sudden shift of perspective.

“Why did you come here?” asked a voice, silky smooth and hard, cold like a knife, just like the knife that he had held in front of the crowd not ten minutes ago. The msn turned and looked right into the frightened, quivering gaze of Gerold. Trembling, shaking in fear of the vision as much as the man in front of him, Gerold held out the cloth bags of various supplies he had brought with him for the stranger.

“A-are y-you hun-hungry, sir?” He asked in the fear laden voice of a young boy who had just been kidnapped in a rather violent and forceful way by emotionless persons of cold climates, and warm homes.

“No.” Gerold recognized the dismissal in the tone, but could not leave without asking one final question

“May I inquire as to your name, sir?”

“No.” the stranger looked at him, met his gaze and Gerold was forced to shrink back toward the door. “Close the door as you leave.”

“Yes, sir.” Gerold fumbled for the handle as the stranger turned around, his hand closed around the cold, metal, projection. He brought it with him as he steeped back from the doorway, making sure the door was firmly closed. He toyed with the idea of locking it behind him, but was too fearful of the man on the oher side of the doorway to go through with the action.


“The death and dying of a worn torn country is not measurable by any but those who have been in such a place. The atrocities committed against a city under siege are nothing compared to those that are commited by the inhabitants of the city, in quest for food, medication, and water. Such was the condition of Hicrotles when its Lord Mayor arrived to speak with the Rex Vivimortuum. It was not long after that the first riots broke out and the looting began, the weak were trampled underfoot, the dead were simply left to lie on the streets, without proper burial or rites of mourning. The great city of Hicrotles was starving after only a few days, within a week it was under terrible pressure tht comes only in such times and place as a city under siege, the people were afraid, and the stench of fear came out through the city’s great vents to the delicate nose of the Lord Mayor as he was escorted along an outer walk way along the edges of the Lith Niral.

“He saw the vast fleet of the Silbith army, as it stretched up, down, right, left, and ahead. The small and great cities alike were arranged in a sphere roughly centered on the cloud of steam and waste through which he could just make out the towers and docking yards of his beloved city, Hicrotles. The fleet of the Silbith was truly emmense, and to have grown in such short amounts of time, it was truly a wonder of military might. The nearest bay doors on the Lith Niral were open to let out the light of an arc caster, strong light, meaning that powerful mages were in the army as well as these things that looked like animated corpses.

“The number of arc casters that he could see from their telltale glow was also staggering, there were more mages just for building ships in this conglomeration of a navy than there were mages in all of Hicrotles, or in any of the seven cloud cities. But arc casters were not that common, there was reason that they were paid so much for good work, flight mages were much more common and not nearly as necessary to the wind trades, mostly because they were needed to ast a flight spell only once every decade or so on any given ship. But arc casters were difficult to find in any number and here there were hundreds, all working, presumably, to build more flying machines with which to attack the trapped and disabled city that was hidden in its own cloud of fumes and water vapor.

“It was not a pretty sight, but it was awe inspiring to the Lord Mayor of the city on which he ruled with the immensity of several thousand people behind him, supporting his every move. It made him feel very lonely out here so close to the open air and a quick death. Then the guiding corpses made their way into a hatch that opened at their approach. The Silbith creatures entered, and beckoned for him to follow. The inside of the ship seemed nearly deserted as compared to the last time he had been on her, but then it had been a cruise liner not the flagship of a mighty navy, that no one really knew the size of. They followed a dim passage way into the interior of the ship, passed by the doorway to a work shop converted from a flight bay, and saw the nearly complete flyer being constructed inside. Then he followed the two guides around a corner and then another and another, until he was confused, it seemed that the layout been changed by some minor remodeling. Some walls that he passed were new and some passage ways had apparently been cut out of the exisiting walls. The majority of the ship was no longer suitable for living, as he passed by another doorway, he glanced out and saw that it lokked out on to the space where there were once cabins for passengers, now it was a large open bay in which air ships were resting on the floor, and clamped with docking plates to the ceiling, and there was room for several more on docking plates hanging from the ceiling, walkways spread out on all levels of this room, leaving little doubt as to its purpose as a hanger for quick and immediate take off. This was amazing that someone could have done this to such a ship and sacrificed the graduer for such a utilitarian space.

“The creatures leading him continued on and he was compelled to follow, around another corner, through yet anoth door way smashed out of the old walls and down a passage made of new walling and to a door way, this one with a door in it. A great wooden door, one of the most expensive items that had been on the Lith Niral on that fateful voyage, three years ago, was in the frame. Here the guides stopped and the first one motioned him in, through the doorway as the other beat out a tattoo against the wood, causing a few splinters to fall off.

The door opened, seemingly of its own accord, and the Lord Mayor was ushered in. the first difference that he noticed was the smell, it was no longer as strongly drenched with the rot of the Slbith and the rank stench of fear was gone from the air. Then he noticed that the air was moving in the direction of the only opening in the room. He looked around and saw what appeared to be the royal suite, decorated with nearly all the valuables that the ship had held before it was taken by the rotting Silbith. The passage leading out of the room was bored into the bulkhead that had been behind the far wall. Beyond that you could see almost nothing as the light became so incredibly dim that it was impossible to anything. The floor here was strewn with various valuables, hundreds of thousands of _ in value, at the very least, was scattered across the room. The walls were hung with beautiful paintings and the reason for the stark appearance of the Lith Niral was readily apparent, all the goods had been stored in this room.

“Leaning in the corners of the room were several sarcophagi. The lids of these were slightly ajar and the décor on them was fabulous, enough to make the rest of the room look pale in comparison of value. The gold inlay was intricate to the extreme, shaped in the form of a hawk upon each life-like imitation’s right arm and some sort of squiggly creature on the left. The creature on the left was a snake, probably one of the more deadly species, a legless animal that lives on the surface. The statuesque pictorials of the persons were dressed in gowns of white gold, studded with diamonds and bordered by platinum threads, crowned in ruby studded silver, and held a staff of wood, inlaid with precious metals spiraling upward to come into the form of a fanged bat near the top.

“The Lord Mayor stood, staring at all the wealth around him in wonder, until the lids of the sarcophagi began to slowly move outward, grating loudly against the trinkets scattered before them. He then backed to the entrance through which he had come and found it closed. A voice came out of the shadows beyond the hole in the far wall, ‘What, you wish to leave now, when you have just arrived? Truly, I had thought that a Lord Mayor would be more willing to speak with the one holding his city captive. But, perhaps, you not the Lord Mayor, it is possible that you are some lowly page who runs about chasing the whims of the Lord Mayor. I shall chatise him for sending me such a useless being.’

“’No, I am the Lord Mayor of Hicrotles. Are you the acclaimed Rex Vivimortuum? Or have those fool minions brought me to the wrong place?’ He sounded much braver than he felt, for the words of the Rex Vivimortuum had scared him badly. The voice that was so confident, cold and hard, yet smooth and nearly hypnotic in its intensity was frightening to hear without being able to see its source. And the confidence that the man behind that velvet covered steel voice had, to dare risk the vengeance of a Lord Mayor was staggering to behold.

“’Indeed, that is a possibility though it would not be entirely their fault for they are very stupid and cannot be relied upon to carry out such orders as bringing you here, but you arrived sooner than expected and I did not have the time to find a suitable guide for one of your rank. I am truly sorry for that, please, accept my sincere apologies. I am indeed the one called Rex Vivimortuum, and I am here to negotiate with you Lord Mayor for the release of your city. Please come into my private chambers. Vivimortos desinere.’ The grating sound stopped then began again, the sarcophagi closing back onto themselves. The Lord Mayor caught a glimpse of tightly swathed limbs in one of them. ‘Come, now for this would be a bad place to argue over the details of our treaty.’

“The Lord Mayor walked into the dark hallway, allowing his eyes to adjust every few steps so as not to be blind when he met the man behind the voice. The passage turned just beyond the point where it had been too dark to see anything of significance, now as he made his way through the gloom, the almost palpable darkness, he perceived a slight red glow ahead. The passage became increasingly well lit the further he went until, at about 100 yards, it curved again and he saw a room, aproxitmatley 30 feet long and 18.5 feet wide stretched out ahead of him.

“The red glow filling the room came form tube lights burning along the walls at regular intervals of nine feet. Each lamp emitting enough light o fill the room on its own but cleverly worked into the walls so as to provide only limited lighting, mirrors behind the lamps focused the light on a few objects in the room, there were at least seven sarcophagi with lamplight focused upon them, each one nearly identical to those in the front room, but these had wolf heads upon their staffs where the others had had fanged bats. The lighting also emphasized the intricate pillars that seemed to have been set up in the room for the sole purpose of looking imposing, and they did indeed look down upon the one looking at them with gleaming, red, mirrored eyes. The lamps also seemed to be particularily focused upon the far end of the room where a table sat laden with papers, ink bottles, quills of the finest quality, and seated on the far side, a man dressed in a cowled robe of black and white, with the hawk embroidered upon the right breast with sequins picked to have colors that appeared as the hawk would under normal conditions, and the snake upon the left in similar bead work. The coloring could easily have been magical however and shown up in the faintest, most monochromatic light scheme ever developed by a mage.

The man sat with his face cloaked in shadow, even in this shadowy room, though the lights were focused upon him he still seemed to have the air of being hidden and unseen. The wall behind the man was open and within that alcove there lay a small bed chamber. Then the lights refocused upon the Mayor, who was walking toward the table and the man seated at it. The closer he got the more he noticed, the table was set up on the same dimensions as the room in which it was sitting, only one fifth as large, he also noticed that the alcove he had been able to see before was closed up and looked as though it had never been there, the wall was smooth metal all the way across, except for the simple etching that appeared as the wall came closer and seemed to change as different lines were illuminated from different angles proving to be a fascinating decorative piece.

“’Welcome to my humble abode. I hope that you will find the accomidations to your liking, now how ever we must get onto business. Nira come hic.’ A woman walked out from the left, each step clicking loudly on the metallic flooring, as she was wearing heels. She was incredibly beautiful, and wore only a simple gown made of extremely sheer fabric, so sheer that he could almost see right through it. Upon her brow was a circlet of gold with a small snake head rearing up from it, ready to strike. Her wrists were tattooed with the hawk and snake that each of the sarcophagi had had upon its self. ‘This is my personal mage, Nira, I named her after this lovely ship we are now riding upon. Have a seat, and we shall discuss what options are available to us.’

“The Lord Mayor sat in the seat opposite the rex Vivimortuum. ’What are your demands for the release of my city?’ The Lord Mayor was tired of playing this game and asked in an insolent voice, ‘How much leeway will you give me?’

‘Nira show him.’ And the mage at the Rex Vivimortuum’s side flipped a concealed switch on the wall and the wall itself seemed to flutter and distort until he found himself looking upon his once wonderful city. Its people had become desperate for food and medication, and had begun looting the city for the necessary supplies to confront the slow and insidious death that hunger brought about. As the people died, their corpses were just left lying in the street, without even the honor of being thrown down to the world of the dead. The streets were cleaned of everything that could be of use and the only things moving were fleeting shadows that mioght have been people or just billows of smoke. The town appeared to be deserted to the viewers of the screen in the Lith Niral.

“‘That is how your city is now within the week it will be gone, you have no bargaining room. I want a city to rule, where my people will not be persecuted for their ways, and we can do what we need to survive. Some of our ways you would consider to be barbaric, or disgusting, or simply revolting. Yet to us these ways are necessary to survival, they are what keeps our hearts beating, our lungs breathing, our minds thinking. The rituals that we must complete are not something that you or your people would find suitable for their eyes or ears.’

“’Your demand is not entirely without merit, however not even I could convince the other Lord Mayors that they should allow you to make peace to build a city where atrocities will be committed in the name of survival. What demands can you make that I can agree to go along with?’

“I demand that your city pay in tribute to mine one hundred and fifty six young men and women each year. That is something you can make a delivery upon.’

“’Every year you want one hundred and fifty six of my people?! Where do you get such nerve as to ask for such things?’

“’Come, I will show you one of the rituals that is necessary to keep the higher ranks of my fleet working. You must keep in mind that they do not do this because they want to, but because they need to in order to continue their existence. Follow me. Nira light.’ The mage set her hand in the air and it began to glow, but only for a short time. The time it took the Rex Vivimortuum to stretch out his hand over the flame, where at his own hand caught flame with a brilliant blue glow.

“He bagan to walk parallel to the wall in the direction the Nira had come. He was about half way to the side of the room when he stopped and seemed to remember something, ‘Nira follow. Lord Mayor, will you come along?’ He then continued his walk toward the corner of the room, one of few places that was not lit by the red glowing tubes along the wall. As the Rex Vivimortuum approached the wall a passage could be seen. The Lord Mayor followed the light given off by the glowing hand through another set of wooden doors into a chamber with absolutely no light other than the pale blue being emitted from the imposing figure’s hand.

“This room was filled with the clean scent of old books, and the Lord Mayor could see that along the walls there were books on shelves, books stacked neatly on the floor, books were everywhere in vast quanities. Stretching on and on down the length of the room ere books as far as he could see, an entire library was located here in this room. The glow moved on ward through the stacks, until it reached another doorway, this one made of metal with a magical locking device upon it. As the door open the mage went through and set flame to the glow tubes in this room, they were a red that started out faint and steadily grew brighter for a few minutes as the tubes warmed up and drove off the chill that had settled into the room. The room was similar to that which they had so recently left, however it was much smaller, and seemed to be used only for short period of time.

“The Rex Vivimortuum went to the opposite side of the room and opened another door that led into a well lighted room, without many decorations at all. The room had a single passage leading out of it, and the way continued, the three of them followed the path offered by the leading figure to a large steel door set in a heavy metal frame bolted onto the walls surrounding it. The door was opened by the tall black and white clad man and they all stepped into the chamber, turned right, went up a flight of stairs to an over hanging balcony. From he the Lord Mayor could see that what had at first appeared to be a riot of people in the room below was more of a chaotic waiting, hundreds of Silbith were running around in a frenzy, waiting for something.

“On the other side of the room, down on the level of the floor, across from the three who sat and watched one with envy, one impassionately, and one with a growing sense of horror, several guards slipped through the slightly open door. They began to push the Silbith who had crowded around the doorway out of the way so as to let the door be opened wider, they then formed a defensive barrier around the doorway as more guards came out carrying a huge crate. The crate had bars along top few foot, allowing the things inside to breath and hear the moaning that had begun coming from several hundred mouths at the sight of the crate. From within the crate came screams of people. These seemed only to excite the Silbith even more.

“The guards who had been standing protectively around the door moved to keep the raving Silbith monsters away from the crate, with sharp, pointy sticks that crackled with blue and yellow arcs of mage current every time they came into contact with one of the wildly jumping and moaning Silbith. A mage stepped out of the doorway ringed in a triple layer of guards, he approached the crate and cast a mage current and a holding spell into the very metal, then he stepped quickly back through the door, while the guards moved back to protect the door and those who were left, ecircvled the crate in a double layer. The door was closed and those surrounding the crate began to climb on top of it, carefully touching only the wooden handles that functioned as a ladder like device. The Silbith still hounding the guards below would strike the metal of the case and be attacked by the mage current stored there. The guards, as they reached the top would turn and fend the attacking Silbith monsters off with their long poles while the last of them climbed the crate handles and then they all reached for ropes hanging down from the balcony to climb even further out of dangers path, almost like clock work as soon as the last of the guards had lifted his feet from the top of the crate the raging Silbith began to slow, first one coming to a slow stop then another and another after that until all but one could no longer move.

“It was then that the last guard had made it to a defensive position along the balcony, they were evenly spaced along each side. Looking at the closest the Lord Mayor could see that these special Silbith warriors were different than the rotting beasts down in the pit below, they seemed to have maintained a certain amount of preserved flesh, but he could not see much of their skin through the wrappings that wore. He also noticed that the mage current staves were tipped with moth figures, and that burned into the bandages on each wrist were the symbolic hawk and snake that he began to suspect was more than mere decoration. As the guards moved to his place the one closest to the crate and the metal bar hanging from the ceiling above it, pressed a switch located on the wall behind him and the bar began to drop until it touched the tip of the crate.

“At that point the light show began, leaving an afterimage burned into the eye for several minutes as the mage current was drained through the conduction pipe. The brilliant colors seemed to stun the Silbith that could still move and even the screaming coming from the inside of the crate stopped momentarily. When the afterimage had burned away, the Lord Mayor could see that the crate had been opened by mysterious means, had contained a several human beings that were chained to the bottom section of the crate. The people were not people gar very long as the first Silbith to catch scent of the humans was roused to a lethargic pace and slaughtered the people standing confined to the ten by ten foot area.

“The first human to be attacked was female, she was wearing a tattered red dress, in the style distinctive of Hinundo cities. She was the one screaming the loudest, of all the people standing in the square outlined by the bottom part of the box in which they were all sounding, chained to the floor by the feet, with simple metallic links of silver. The first Silbith stepped onto the boards and was fended off by the screaming woman’s flailing arms. However it returned again and again until the woman could no longer fend off the frenzied creature. Then she failed to hit the beast hard enough and it caught her hand and using its long sharp nails to claw into flesh of her arm. Bringing the woman’s arm to its mouth, it began to chew, the woman’s screams becoming louder and more high pitched, slowly at first but with increasing peed and intensity as the blood seeped into its mouth from the wounds inflicted upon the white flesh by its yellowed teeth.

“At the acrid scent of blood, the surrounding Silbith began to revive from their lethargic state of immobility and converged on the source of the blood scent leaking from the wounded limb of the maddened woman. The Silith moved with a slow pace but increased as the iron scented air increased in volume and density. The woman’s screams became louder and more panicked as the Silbith came closer. The shrieking came from the other people as they realized that that the hunger of the Silbith would not be sated with just one of them. The woman had stoped screaming as the pain washed out even that last primitive reflexive item from her brain. The Silbith were in a frenzied feeding rage as they swarmed over the Woman, tearing her flesh as they sought the blood beneath her skin.

“The remaining humans watched in terror so great that were stunned into inactivity, as the woman’s arms were literally torn from their sockets. Then the Silbith began to fight amongst themselves for who was to get the meat on the bones, soon there was nothing left but bones and some red stains upon the ground. During the vicious battle over the woman’s arms, her legs under went similar treatment. Her torso was slashed open and fed upon the gushing blood, as the heart was still beating, though the woman was obviously unconscious from the intensity of the pain through which she had suffered. Her intestines writhed out on to the floor and were quickly grabbed and torn apart by the hungry Silbith. Some half-digested food spilled out of the stomach as it was torn open. There it was rapidly gobbled by the Silbith unable to tell the difference between the body they wee eating and the food it had recently consumed. How ever they seemed to leave the reproductive organs alone, almost as much as left the floor alone. Soon only the remnants of a human were left behind and the swarm moved on to the next person in line, burning themselves on the silver chains as they stepped over the bones that were left behind the wave of carnage. As that wave spread it left behind the same mutilation as it had on the first being it had devoured.

As soon as the last of Silbith were sated into a slight lull in their ravaging attack, the enforcing wrapped versions slid back down on ropes that they dropped from the railing of the balcony. The Silbith that were now covered in blood were forced into the center of the room before being herded out through the large doors through which the crate had been brought through. The remaining enforcers gathered the remnants of the and brought them to the center of the room, where they broke open the skulls and began to scoop out the brains with the smaller bones and eat them carefully, so as not to spill any on the ground. The enforcers who had been taking the Silbith monsters returned just as those who had stayed finished the brains of all people, so they cracked open the bones and sucked the marrow out. Then they gathered the bones and carried them off as well. The female organs that had been left on the floor were just left to lie there for a few minutes, during which the Lord Mayor sat stunned.

“When the enforcers returned, they gathered up the teeth that were lying about on the floor, and inserted them into the uteri before carrying them off as well. The Rex Vivimortuum spoke for the frist time since the spectacle began, ‘Do you see now why we must have our own city, warfare would be our only means of survival otherwise. The people you saw there were prisoners of war, unless my flock can have a place to raise our own food, this would be our only means of living in the sky, or on the ground. Too many of us died in the extended sleep that we were put in by the old mages of Alistria before the fall of their order, it was far too long for the majority of the common. I could survive for an indefinite time suspended as I was, but the common and the berserkers demand more than that offered by sleep, they want food. Even the enforcers of my guard demanded some sustainance after a few thousand years. Fortunately the plan to starve all of us did not work, some fools entered the prison before the spells on it were finished, and broke them. Now we need only keep ourselves alive.’

“The Lord Mayor was still siting in shocked silence, so much so that he jumped as the Rex Vivimortuum began to speak. ‘No, I don’t see why you could not all die. It would make things so much simpler, if I return to tell of this then I will be laughed at by my peers and you will not ever get the right to make a city in the sky, much less a cloud city. The people of the world will not understand your plight, not even I believe you and I have seen with my own eyes the feeding habits of the Silbith.’

“The Lord Mayor was kept aboard the Lith Niral for several months. His rooms were were some of the best on the ship, though they were lacking the décor that they would have had in the past. The rooms themselves were on the class of most mayorial suites, but were only the fifteenth best on the Lith Niral. It was only after he had been on board the ship for two months that he learned it had been renamed as the Vivate Mortuos, the Scruoge of the Night Sky, Terror of the Clouds, Impending Doom of the Living, and Flagship of the Rex Vivimortuum. The ship had been outfitted with some ingenious weaponry, very little of which needed the mage that powered it on hand during battle. There were mage current cannons, devices that were meant to paralyze cities that fled; smaller versions of these called arc cannons, these were meant to be shot at ships that fled domed cities.

“Hius rooms were spacious, far more spacious than any thing else’s on the Lith Niral. This was because most things on board were already dead, and did not need any space, but also because the walls had been knocked out to allow for faster movement around the ship. They were filled with rubble, but still had soft beds, and were not ready to be decommissioned. This was where the living crew of the fleet stayed when they had time off from the constant work, arc mages were brought here when their powers had been exhausted and flight mages stayed here until the casters were prepared to launch another ship, the rate by which these mages were hurried in and out of the rooms indicating a vast and quickly growing fleet, with at least three new additions each day.

When the Rex Vivimortuum called for him again he went with out complaint, glad that at least one person would talk to him onboard, as the mages looked ready to speak when they returned to the suites in which they were lodged but were too tired to, when they awoke they avoided him like the plagues that so often swept the overpopulated cloud cities. Grateful for the chance of communication he braved the dread scent of the walkways in the Lith Niral to speak with the one being who seemed willing to talk to him.

Once again he was led to the great wooden doors through which he was again unceremoniously shoved and left to himself as the thud of the closing doors was still echoing throughout the chamber with its riches. The way ahead was open to him, so he went that way following the faint red glow to the private chambers of the Rex Vivimortuum. As he walked the path outlined by the light that was refocused upon his entry leading straight to the table where the hooded man in black and white, with his embroidery of hawk and snake. This time the man’s hair was brushed back from his forehead so that the Lord Mayor could recognize the tattoos that he had formerly kept concealed beneath that mass of jet black hair. There on the left side was a bat, nearly identical to those worn on the staffs of the enforcers that conducted the living and the Silbith common around the ship as it sailed the fleet to provide the new mages to the building platforms where they were needed. On the right was the moth that the mages who worked on the Lith Niral wore on their brow on the golden circlets. Centered in the man’s head, right between the other two tattoos was the wolf that stood upon the staffs of those that stood ever vigilant guarding in this chamber. The Rex Vivimortuum said, ‘You have been here for two months now, are you ready to return your people’s leaders and deliver my message?’