Corruption

Corruption

Cadence













Prologue





A single subordinate rushed through the halls of a grand, dark temple, eager to please her master and avoid his ire. She, the small servant entered the grand audience hall of her master. She, like others, could not perceive it as grand, though. It was entirely wreathed in shadow, save a single circular area just in front of the door to the chamber.

She rushed into the center of the light, and fell to one knee, even though she couldn't see her master. Soon, a booming voice filled the room. “Why do you disturb me?”

“M... maser,” She began to stutter. “The tests you requested have returned.”

“And?” The voice, her master, prompted from within the darkness. “What of them? Stop wasting my time!”

“Y... yes m... master! The... the subject showed r... rejection to your t... treatments. He is a failure.” The subordinate stuttered through her consuming terror.

The master paused a long moment, and the servant dared not rise from her kneel, hardly dared to breath. “You have done well. I thank you for the news.”

The subordinate breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She had heard all too often about how a single servant had entered, entire troupes had entered, and never come out of this grand hall.

“Why are you still here?” The voice boomed, and that sigh of relief seemed small indeed to the small girl.

“I... I was told you would give me further orders.” She near shouted in fright.

“Hmm...” Her master muttered. “Dispose of the subject.”

“Master?”

“Kill him.”

“How would you have it done?”

“I don't care!” The voice shouted, rocking the stones, and disrupting the servant girl's balance. “Whatever it takes to kill him. I care not how it's done, just as long as he ends up dead.”

“Yes, m... master.” The girl managed to stammer out before turning to leave.

“Wait.” The voice boomed.

The girl turned back to the sound. “Yes, master?” Could the master want something else of her? Would he reward her?

“I'm feeling hungry.” Suddenly, a great, black, reptilian maw emerged from the darkness, all sharp teeth gleaming, and cut off the girl's scream of fear with a single snap of the jaws.

And the servant girl was gone.

Another servant came in, this one a man, and arrayed in various weapons and armor, wearing a long, white coat. “I was summoned here, master. What is it you would have me do?”

“The subject must be terminated.”

“Yes master.” The new servant, confident and calm, walked out.

“I want him dead.” The master boomed one last time before the doors closed upon the great hall.

The young man didn't blink once in the face of his great master.







Chapter 1

         Solitude





Deep within a barren wasteland, a man slowly, groggily, opens his eyes. He is on his bare back, with naught but cloth pants to protect him from the overbearing sun above. His head spun, and felt like splitting open. His mouth was dry, and he was thirsty. He felt like he hadn't eaten in days. He slowly rose from the loose dust of the sand around him. All about were tall rocks, walls, as if of a labyrinth of stone, designed to keep him in.

He stumbled a little, still reacquainting himself with his legs. He looked down at his hands, scarred and scratched, and realized something that frightened him: he didn't know who he was.

He couldn't remember how he had gotten into this dessert, exposed beneath that killing sunlight. He couldn't remember anything, yet his own physique revealed a few clues. He was well-toned, pale, and he quickly found a grace in his stride that he couldn't quite explain. He worked a lot, that was for sure, and didn't see much of the sun. The grace could indicate a line of fighting.

The thought almost pained him at that moment. He didn't want to see himself as being a violent man.

He quickly dismissed it as irrelevant in light of his current predicament. He had no shirt, no shoes, and no protection of the rays of the hot sun above. He began to walk toward one break in the walls of stone around him, figuring that any direction was as good as any other.

In the narrow corridor in the small 'canyon' of sorts, he quickly found that he wasn't alone. He vaguely remembered that this was a bad place to be. There were many predators and carrion beasts, those creatures that fed off of others. There were many of them, and only one of him. He may not know who he was, or how educated he was, but he didn't need much to figure out the danger he was in.

Above the rim of the canyon, a wall too sheer and steep for the man to climb, he would glimpse figures, and they would always scuttle out of his view whenever he looked in their direction. They would disturb pockets of sand as they rushed away, making the particles fall to the man's level.

The man was once again surprised to find that his senses were heightened and that he didn't feel fear, just anticipation of an attack. It was as if he were trained for situations like these, but again, he dismissed the notion as worthless until he could find a safe place to think about them.

He walked into an open area, still with the same sand all about him, and still with rock walls encasing him in, but now he could see the spires of tall buildings in the distance, no more than a few hours' walk away by his guess.

There was a problem, though.

Standing in his way were three diminutive creatures. Alone, the man wouldn't have been worried. Two feet tall, with a head dominated by a large maw filled with razor-sharp teeth and with small, humanoid arms and legs, alone he wouldn't have been overly worried. But he didn't truly know the limitations of these creatures, didn't even know what they were called, and against three, the man was cautious to say the least.

At first, he thought to perhaps find another way around the three, but swatted away the notion – the nearest branch from whence he came was nearly a half-hour's walk, and he had no idea where it led. He had little choice but to go on.

He took a single step forward, and the three creatures coordinated a ring around him, hemming him in. The creatures, wanting a quick fight and an easy kill, all leaped at once.

On instinct, the man leaped forward as well, reaching forward and with one hand pressed the lead creature down while doing a somersault over it, landing safely behind. Quickly turning, the man saw the one he pressed into the ground slowly recovering, one creature trying to help it up, while the third simply advanced on the man.

He jumped forward, and one foot shot out. Careful to avoid those deadly teeth, the man jammed in the heel of his foot in to the leathery belly of the sunburned creature, sending it sailing back. The second, still trying to help the first, saw the third go flying, turned tail, and abandoned the first to whatever fate befell it.

The man cared little, and began again in the direction of the city, new hope invigorating his already tiring steps. His estimate had been far longer than expected, and he reached the city in less than another half an hour. Leading up to the city gates that the man could see, there was a wide, paved road, littered with merchants and wandering people. The man, however, felt foreign, for not only was he and outsider here, but not all the creatures here were human. In fact, the humans he counted in the throng were less than a tenth of the total crowd.

Not knowing what to do or who to trust, the man had little choice to make an attempt at blending in. As he approached the throng from the dessert beyond, he counted three different species, including the humans. One type of creature was very lizard like, tall and straight, they carried themselves with dignity. Many had elaborate pieces of armor, some entire suits, all tailored to their species and specific build. Each had unique patterns to the scales that covered their bodies, and different styles of horns that protruded from their head, face and limbs. Some even had spines growing from their backs.

The other species alien to the poor man was virtually a race of large, walking cats. Some resembled humanoid panthers with smooth, shiny black coats, and others appeared as bipedal tigers and lions. Some had manes, some had long tails, some larger ears, some had spots in their fur, or stripes or nothing at all, being entirely monochromatic. Like the lizards, some wore armor, while others simply walked with ordinary clothing. Unlike the lizards, however, who carried themselves with an air of honor and dignity, the cats were more aloof and carefree.

The humans were, like many things, strange to the man who awoke in the dessert. They wore loose clothing, most men electing to wear loose vests, and women would often wear something that looked like a tube top to the man. Some men went shirtless, much like the foreign man, though his pants were far more ragged and ripped than the other men.

Despite their definite differences, the three races worked together in harmony. There was no sense of superiority or ownership here. All were equal here.

At least until the man reached the gates.

There were five guards, four evenly spaced in front of the heavy metal doors that slid to the side rather than swiveled out, and the fifth standing in the middle of the entrance. He was nonchalantly talking to the guard to his right, which was all well and good, until a young boy was tripped and was caused to fall into the guard.

The guard turned on the boy, no older than sixteen, and immediately it was obvious that he was angry. “Boy, another trip like that and I'll have you spit-shining my armor!” The guard shouted at the boy. Prudently, the boy simply shuffled away, looking over his shoulder at the guards.

Well, the man thought. It seems I won't be getting in that way. The man looked around, searching for something that might help, and immediately found a fountain, from which, clean, clear water flowed. The man, suddenly gripped by his consuming thirst, rushed to the fountain. When he reached it, he had created a swath of people that simply stared at him in indignation, though none bothered him, much to his gratitude as he lapped the water into his mouth as quickly as he could.

“You're from the dessert, aren't you?” Came a voice from behind. The man stopped shoveling water down his throat and slowly turned to the same boy who had just been thrown from the gates. Unsure of who to trust, the man remained silent. He was also unsure of his voice.

The boy didn't seem to expect an answer and moved to the fountain beside the man, dipping a drinking skin into the water and filling it. “You want into the city, don't you?” In response, the man could only nod slowly. “I can get you past the gate. It wouldn't be hard, y'know.”

The man cocked his head, finally willing to test his vocals. “Why?” He said, his voice scratchy, but oddly melodious in a weird mixture of throaty and beautiful.

“Why help you, you mean?” The boy asked. Again, the man nodded. The boy turned and leaned against the fountain. “Because I want in too. I've got a friend who probably needs my help. If nothing else, I want to see my friends. But, I need help. The sewers are dangerous these days.”

“Sewers?” The man asked.

“Yup. They'll take you anywhere you want to go, if you know where you're headed. But the imperials have been doing some work down there, so it's been driving a few nasties up to the higher levels.” The boy looked to the man. “Who are you, anyway? I don't want to fight next to a guy and have no idea who he is.”

“I...” The man began. “I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“I don't remember. I woke up in the dessert, and I don't know what happened before then.”

“So you don't know your name?” The man shook his head. “Maybe we'll find someone who recognizes you. I guess that means you're not an imperial, though, so you're clean. I'm called Hides.”

“Hides?”

“Yup.”

“Why Hides?”

“Because I used to hunt rats in the sewers and sell their hides.”

“That doesn't sound too profitable.”

“Unless the rats are big enough to gnaw a whole through your belly in three bites or less.”

“True enough.”

“Are you ready, then?” The man looked down at his pants, looked back to the boy and shrugged. “Hmm...” He started. He reached down to a pouch and produced a belt with a small knife on it. “This isn't much, but I stopped using it a long time ago, when I got this...” The boy patted a sword belted at his hip that the man didn't see before.

The man took the knife, grateful for at least a weapon, even if it were a small one. Once again, as he took the combat knife, he noted a certain grace about his movements, a certainty around the weapon that unnerved him. Nonetheless, he needed this young boy at the moment, if only to get into the city and perhaps build up a few contacts. Maybe he could find out who he was in the myriad of citizenry within the walls. He put the belt on, and placed the knife within easy reach.

“Come with me.” Hides ordered, and turned away. He led the man through the crowd into a small alley, almost broken into the walls of the strange road. Hides pointed to a small door set into the side of the small alley's jagged wall. “In there is the sewer. Inside, we'll be meeting a friend. She'll help us get through the sewers.”

“Shall we, then?” The man asked, gesturing to the door. Hides nodded and opened the door, stepping through the portal. Immediately, a foul smell assaulted the foreign man, but he continued through anyway, following Hides into the darkness below.

Hides descended some fifteen feet before the man followed him onto a flat area of stone with a few inches of clean water over the top. The man half expected it to be soiled, but this must have been some sort of reservoir instead of an area where waste was stored. “We don't have far to meet Frost.” Hides suddenly put in.

“Frost?” The man asked.

“She's the friend we're to be meeting.”

“Why is she called Frost?”

“It's cold in the sewers, but she likes living here.”

“She lives in the sewers? Why?”

Hides paused a moment. “There was a war a couple years back. It left a lot of kids orphaned. Frost and I sort of found each other, and we've been looking out for one another for a while now.”

“You're an orphan?”

“We get money when we can, legal or no, and we use it to buy food.”

“So you don't live down here?”

“I live where I can.”

“That must be terrible.”

“It has its perks.” The man cocked his head. What possible advantage could there be in being homeless and poor? Seeing this, Hides continued. “Because I move around so much, I know this city like the back of my hand. You need to get somewhere, I can get you there.”

“Cool.” The man was somewhat relieved to have found such a valuable ally where there were none originally.

“Come on, we've got a little farther to go.” Hides walked away, the man following behind, sloshing in the water. Hides led the man through several halls, twists and turns, rises and falls, stairways and bridges over deep water. The stonework all looked the same to the man who had no idea where they were, so he simply stared at the back of Hides' head to keep his bearings, and said little.

Until Hides suddenly stopped. “This could be a problem.”

“What is it?” The man asked, but he didn't need to. He heard a loud, high-pitched squeak from behind and turned quickly. He didn't even register the fact that the knife was already in his hand.

Beady little eyes set in a long, furry face. The whole of the large rat was the size of the man's muscled torso. The teeth on the thing were sharp and serrated. The man didn't really know how these rats had become apparently carnivorous, but it really didn't matter.

The man reversed his grip on his knife and held it before him defensively, the blade sticking almost straight out, his other arm crossed in a similar fashion below his knife arm. The rat charged quickly, and the man instinctively snapped his knife to the side, slicing the rat across the eyes and deflecting its momentum.

As it landed nearby, scrabbling and clawing at its eyes, as if that would bring the use of its orbs back to its possession, the man pounced, lifting his knife and skewering the massive rodent seven times before a shout from Hides drew his attention away.

A rat had leaped at Hides, and the boy kept the thing at bay with his sword pressed against the thing's underbelly. Hides threw the rodent away, but didn't see a third rat crouched in the shadows, ready to pounce. When it did, the man was there, his heel high in the air, and snapping down upon the rat's head, crushing the unfortunate thing's skull against the cold masonry. The man looked to Hides as the boy skewered his rodent with his blade.

The man bent down and cleaned the knife on the rat's fur, though because the thing was so dirty, the cleansing did little but streak it with dirt and mud. He stood, frowning at the inefficiency of his action.

“Yeah, that doesn’t work too well. Probably should have warned you.” Hides quietly muttered. The man turned to Hides, the boy staring back, seemingly with a deeper appreciation of the man. “We’re almost there. Frost is just ahead.”

The man sheathed his dirty knife, resolving to clean it properly later, and started after Hides. A few more twists brought them to a long, low, and narrow corridor that constricted the tall man’s stature and made him feel vulnerable indeed! Should an enemy attack them here, he almost literally had no way to defend himself, for he had to turn sideways and crouch, scootching himself along the wall after Hides, who, with such a young and gangly frame, had only to slightly duck his head.

When they emerged, it was into a massive chamber. It was a sort of sluice chamber for holding back water. The hall emptied out onto a bridge of sorts. It was a slab of solid stone, at the top of which they stood. Below them, on either side of the bridge were bodies of water, massive reservoirs. Set in the slab of stone was a huge door, left open and allowing water to flow between the two bodies. The rest of the chamber was relatively plain and unadorned. Across the bridge was a larger hallway, not like the narrow one they had just passed through, much to the man’s relief.

“Here we are!” Hides said loudly, and his young voice reverberated off of the far walls, creating a weird echo that carried for several minutes. So powerful was the reverberation that the vibrations caused small ripples in the still water around them.

Much more quietly, as he feared his more powerful voice would actually cause damage, the man replied, “Where is this Frost we were supposed to meet?”

Not two seconds after he said the words, a line, almost invisible in its thinness, twirled around the man’s arm, with a small hook on the end that looped around the wire when it fully came around. Before the man could get a chance to undo the wire – or to register that it was even there – it suddenly jerked down, forcing the man to his knees.

The line had come from above, in the darkness of the ceiling, from which a dark silhouette swung down when the line was secure, swinging below the lip of the bridge, barely skidding across the water and landing securely on the man’s back, pinning his bare torso to the cold stone.

Immediately, a knife was placed against the man’s jugular, silencing his meager struggles.

“That’s Frost.” Hides said.

“I would like to get up please.” The man pleaded pitifully, his voice coming out weirdly contorted as his lips were pressed at odd angles against the stone.

“Right. I can’t gut you properly when you’re lying on the ground.” A woman’s voice growled into his ear. “Who is this, Hides? You plan on betraying me?”

“Never, my love!”

“I wish you would stop calling me that!”

“All right. He’s a friend, darling.”

“What’s his name?”

“He can’t remember.”

“So you don’t know?”

“Nope.”

“How do you know he can’t remember anything?”

“I’m right here!” The man interrupted, only to be ignored.

“Well, it’s not like I have any sort of tests.” Hides complained.

“I do.” Frost rose from pinning the poor man to the ground, and hoisted him up with nothing but the wire still painfully wrapped about his upper arm. Frost then stepped around him, and stared up into his face, easily a foot higher than hers, smeared with grime and dirt from life in the sewers. Her clothes were torn, tattered and dark, but all about her were tools and weapons that looked like they had been maintained by the proudest of warriors.

She simply stared up into his eyes, her sharp gaze quickly making him shift uncomfortably. “Who are you?”

Unable to meet her gaze for some time, standing in silence, the man finally brought himself to meet her stare. “I don’t know.” He said evenly. As confidently as he sat that, though, he still shied away when Frost suddenly stood up taller, bringing her intense face even closer.

“I’m a remarkable lie detector.” Frost said. “It’s what’s kept me alive this long.” She backed away. She remained like that for some time, still with that soul-piercing stare driving through the man’s skull. She suddenly smiled. “Okay, you’re good! We need a name for you though.”

“How ‘bout…” Hides began.

“Oh God.” Frost breathed.

“What?”

“You’re horrible at naming things! That’s why I named myself! I named you too!”

“Don’t remind me.”

“So don’t name him.”

“Humor me this once, darling?”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Blade.”

“What?”

“I think he should be named Blade. You should have seen how he wielded one!”

“You gave him a blade? You barely know him!”

“He got me this far, didn’t he? If it hadn’t been for him, I would still be milling about at Eastgate, looking for a way in.”

Frost looked to the man, desiring a test of the name ‘Blade.’ She walked back up to him and drew a slender sword with an elaborate crossguard that arched out and around the hilt, protecting the wielder’s hand. She drew a much plainer blade and tossed it at the man. He easily caught it, and held it up to his eye level to scrutinize it.

It was a dull grey in color, though it was clearly a fine metal, and not some brittle stone. The guard almost didn’t exist, it was so small, and the hilt was uncomfortable and misshapen. The blade was even unbalanced, heavier than the hilt and hard to swing.

“What kind of weapon is this?” The man couldn’t help but ask in indignation.

“Yours for this fight. Prove you can wield such shitty equipment well enough to give me some sport and you have your name.”

Not wanting to fight, either verbally or physically with this woman, the man had little choice. Uncertain of his linguistic skills, the man brought the ill-conceived sword above his head, ready to swing or block as needed. Frost smiled, and readied her own weapon, holding it almost straight out from her body, her upper arm tight against her side, her forearm angled perpendicular, straight to the man.

He almost groaned. This would be no easy task.

Frost lunged forward, and the man dodged aside. She turned the blade as the lunge finished, and with nearly no momentum whatsoever, swung it toward the man. He dodged aside half-heartedly, expecting the slow attack to do minimal damage.

The clean and sharp blade, its tip, rather, slid through his flesh so cleanly, he didn’t even know until the warm streams of blood trickled down his side. He looked down incredulously, Frost simply smiling, back in her ready stance. He looked back to her, and extended his sword arm before him defensively, his legs bunched, ready to spring in any direction necessary.

Frost lunged again, and the man batted the weak attack aside. The heavy blade, however, caused him to overbalance, and he narrowly avoided a chop straight to his neck. He stumbled back, another cut near the base of his neck. He glared at her and simply stood impassive, deciding to take a new take on his strategy, now that he was slightly more acquainted with his weapon.

Again Frost lunged, now her heart fully into the attack, expecting the man to simply have given up, his stance was so relaxed. His arm exploded into motion at the last moment, the slender blade’s tip inches from his exposed abdomen. The heavy blade slammed into the side of Frost’s smaller blade, sending reverberations through the smaller blade, numbing Frost’s hand. The slender blade fell from her hand.

The man’s blade continued to swing, heavy as it was, and as Frost’s good hand went shooting for yet another blade, identical to the first, the man went with the momentum of his overcompensated swing, spinning a full circle and slamming the pommel of his sword into Frost’s gut. Her other sword, already halfway out of its scabbard, also clattered to the stone as her hands clenched around her gut.

The man half-heartedly rammed his fist into her chin, knowing that a full blow would send her flying and likely shatter her neck and jaw. This attack only caused her stumble back. Before Frost could recuperate, the man sent his fist into the area just below the base of her rib cage, her diaphragm, and blasted the air from her lungs.

Frost landed on her back, gasping for air, and turned about, trying to scrabble her way back to a defensive stance. She began to crawl away.

Then the man was standing above her, his shadow engulfing her small frame. He lifted his sword, and her eyes widened in terror, fully realizing what was about to happen. The man’s arm snapped, and the blade shot forward. The man heard Hides scream in protest, but it was too late.

When Hides opened his eyes, the sword was jammed, halfway up the blade, into the stone. Frost was staring at it in disbelief. Hides helped her to her feet and turned to the man. Frost spoke first.

“I thought… you were… gonna kill me.”

“Well I didn’t.” The man replied. “You can have your sword back.”

Frost smiled, new respect for this man welling within her. “Looks like we call you Blade.”

The man smiled too, glad that the business was done and over with. Glad, too, was he for finding such friends.

Chapter 2

         “Should You Fail…”





“My spies report that the subject still lives! Why, when I send my best man to dispose of him?” The booming voice of the hidden master filled the black room, and pounded upon the man's senses.

It was the same man that had entered immediately following the untimely execution of the unfortunate servant girl. Edge was his name, the finest fighter, and highest ranking general, the master excluded, among this secret organization.

“He proved to be harder to kill than anticipated. He found his way to a populated area. I could not confront him without compromising myself.” The man replied calmly, despite his instinctive fear of his great master.

“Then do what it takes to ensure he does not find his way back here!” The master boomed.

“Master, if I may...” The man began quietly.

“Speak your mind, and do so quickly.”

“The subject shows no signs of memory at all. If we leave him to his own devices, he may never uncover his past, and therefore, never become a hindrance to us.” Edge suggested.

“That is too haphazard, Edge, and you know it. Could it be that you fear this man?” The master coyly suggested.

“Fear? I do not fear!”

“Then why your attempt to avoid a confrontation?”

“I simply think that it would be easier on all involved.”

“Perhaps, but do you really think there is an easy way out?” The master paused a moment, receiving no response from Edge. “You faced him in combat, the only person to see him truly in action, to be fighting for his life. What was it like? I do so miss the thrill of combat. Confined as I am, I see little action.”

Edge paused as well, thinking back to his attempted murder of the failure. “He is like no human I have ever faced. He beat me back.”

“How?” The master snapped, now thoroughly disappointed and surprised at his finest warrior.

“He displayed an incredible power, for which I was wholly unprepared. While the true purpose of the experiments was lost on him, it appears as though some desired aspects leaked through, and saved his life. Forgive my weakness, Master.”

“Only this once. You will face him again, and you will succeed.”

“What makes you so confident?”

When the master spoke again, Edge could hear a smile on his voice. “You know the consequences should you fail...”





*          *          *          *          *





Edge walked swiftly away from the master's audience hall, his white trench coat trailing behind him. Upon the back of the coat was emblazoned his master's symbol, a black dragon twining about a red stone, one clawed foreleg's claws sending cracks through the crimson rock. He wore a loose, white shirt that hid several back-up blades should he require them in battle, and black pants that hid yet more concealed weapons. He wore a slender sword on each hip, and a fine, well-balanced, and powerful bastard sword strapped across his back, the hilt protruding above his right shoulder.

As he walked down the unremarkable, white halls, filled with other servants of his master, he formulated his first ideas as to how to get close to this man. He walked into a holding cell, within which was a large, metallic ovoid, with a slit near the top. It was covered in chains, which held it above the steel floor. Edge stopped seven feet in front of the ovoid, just in front of a yellow and black caution stripe emblazoned upon the steel plates beneath his feet.

“Edge,” Came a voice from within the ovoid, echoing eerily, amplifying the deep voice inside. “What torment do you have for me today?”

“A simple task. There is another prisoner.”

“And the master wants him dead, does he not? The great master can’t go and eat the little runaway himself?” The voice dripped with sarcasm and disdain for Edge’s master. Edge felt anger rise in his chest, but he quickly sublimated it, remembering what would happen if he got to close.

“We need you now, Steve.”

“A first name this time? Edge, you flatter me!”

“You know what you could earn in return.”

“I mean after all, you are my warden, and I thought you hated me.”

“Please do this for us.”

“But I must say, this little area is far too inhospitable.”

“Think of your reward.”

“I could use a bigger room.”

“Your freedom.” Steve’s line of comebacks halted. Edge heard him swallow hard.

“It is a bigger room, much bigger indeed.”

“Will you do it?” Edge asked.

There was a long pause. Within that pause, a strange wind blew across the chains, and circled around the ovoid, suspended above the floor. There were no fans, there was no circulation, and there were no windows or open doors.

“I will. Tell me where he is.”

“Well, the first step is one you take.” Edge nodded to the side. The chains quickly unlatched from the walls, and fell to the floor. The ovoid remained suspended above the floor. The front curvature of the ovoid pushed out and slid aside. “Will you take that first step, Steve?”

A low growl emerged from within the ovoid. A black shadow of a hand, dark and two-dimensional, moved over the edge of the opening, clawed and wicked, as if the true hand was moving over it but could not be seen. Then, a true hand, human and almost perfect followed, outlined by the massive shadow hand. One red orb glared at Edge from the darkness, and another growl issued from within.

“Thank you,” Edge began. “Steve.”

“Before I begin, Edge,” Steve started. “I want to remind you of what will happen,” Edge began to fear at Steve’s power even from here. “Should you fail.”

Steve had seen into his thoughts.

And Steve wanted him to fail.





Chapter 3

         The Little Weasel!





Hides, Frost and the newly christened Blade stood in front of another stairwell leading to a portal through which bright sunshine filtered. Through the portal, people could be seen shuffling about – inside the city!

“I told you I can get us anywhere!” Hides proudly proclaimed, pointing a thumb towards his chest. Frost came up behind him, lifted the collar of his dirty shirt and pulled it over his head. As he fumbled with his shirt frantically, Frost began to giggle.

“All that bluster, and little skill to prove it!” She cackled.

Blade couldn't help but smile as he looked between the two. “So is Frost to come with?”

“Yes, she's coming.” Hides mumbled as he smoothed his shirt back into place. “She's the one with the money.”

“Really?” Blade asked.

“Yeah!” Frost put in indignantly. “You really thought that Hides would be able to hold onto any sort of currency whatsoever?”

Blade scrutinized Hides, who still had a frustrated expression. “What?” He asked, still left out of the circle.

“You're probably right.” Blade conceded.

“What?” Hides shouted as Frost followed Blade up the stair. “Hey! Wait up! What did you guys say? What's that supposed to mean?” Hides chased after them, their backs turned, ignoring him.

Hides quickly gave up, following them and pouting despondently.

Blade emerged into a welcome atmosphere, if entirely unknown to the poor man. The three species from the gates milled about to their destinations on the crowded street. There were shops, stalls where merchants peddled their wares, restaurants and a number of armored humans wandering about, patrolling, it seemed. Their armor chinked as they walked past Blade, paying him only just enough heed to glance in his direction as Frost and Hides ducked behind a nearby stall.

Blade watched as the armored men weaved through the crowds, eventually passing beyond his sight, obscured by the thick throng.

“That was close.” Hides sighed as he stepped from his concealment. “We’re gonna have to be careful up here. Imperials are everywhere.”

“Who are these Imperials?” Blade asked.

“Not here.” Frost interjected. “We need to find a good place to hide from them.”

“We’ll go to my place!” Hides proudly declared.

“I thought you didn’t have a home.” Blade stated.

“I don’t. It used to be my parents, but I haven’t used the place since the war. Come on, follow me.” Hides dashed off down one particular avenue, looking little different from any other alleyway. Even down this dirty little offshoot, there was a myriad of citizens, of the tall feline humanoids, of the reptilian counterparts, and of the shorter and less imposing humans.

Not far down this narrow venue, there was another branch, into a yet smaller alley, where the three had to walk single-file. Hides turned left into an old and broken door, signaling for the other two to enter behind him.

Blade stepped into an empty, derelict, gray, cracked stone room, the walls broken down in several places, revealing the supporting structures within the walls, and the many vermin that made their homes in such structures. “Well, it’s not much, but it’s really my only home.”

“Why don’t you use it much?” Blade asked.

“The Imperials once got uncomfortably close to tracking me back here. After that, I tried to stay away as much I could. Ultimately, I am, of course, inevitably drawn back here.”

“You seem highly educated for an orphaned boy.”

“You learn a lot on the streets. You’d really be surprised.”

Blade nodded, not wanting to argue with this boy, who clearly had enough to deal with. “So who are the Imperials?” He asked instead.

Hides' face clouded over with anger. “The Empire of Carsus. Two years ago, they invaded us, Tharsus.” Blade cocked his head. “What's wrong?”

“The names sound similar.”

“The two countries were founded by the same family, long ago, but that's ancient history. The Empire killed my family, and that of Frost's. If you haven't guessed already, I have no love for the Empire.”

Blade's brow furrowed, admiring the bravery of these two youths. They had lost everything, and still they pushed on, no money to their name, and no true home to settle down in. “Were your parents soldiers of Tharsus?” Blade asked.

“Only Hides' father.” Frost piped in. “His mom, and my parents had nothing to do with the army. That's another reason we hate Carsus so much. They killed people who were never going to put up a fight! They murdered innocents, and slaughtered helpless civilians. I...” Frost's eyes teared up and she was forced to look away, gritting her teeth, clenching her fists.

Hides finished for her. “She was forced to watch as her brother and sister were killed. I have not met a single person that hates the Empire more than Frost.”

“We were running.” Frost started again, regaining some of her composure. “And the Empire chased us down, laughing all the while. We got separated, and I ended up on the rooftops. I watched my brother and sister across the street, huddled in a corner, surrounded by Imperials. I should have looked away, should have cried out so that I could distract the Imperials. But I didn't. And now they're dead.”

Frost turned in a huff, tears running freely down her cheeks, streaking the grime of the sewers. She stormed into another room, beyond the sight of the two males. Blade started to follow, wanted to comfort her, but Hides stopped him. “Let her cool off, first. Then, we can start getting you some real clothes.” Blade nodded, walked to an unremarkable – little in this place was remarkable – spot on the ground and sat, watched, and waited as Hides did likewise.





*          *          *          *          *





He bent down, scooping up some sand in his pale hand. He lifted it to his nose and breathed in deeply. He stood up, and a strange wind began to blow around him, kicking up a small amount of sand. It was only a weak wind, and it barely moved his deep black trench coat.

“He's been here.” He said to the night, turning his head to the shadows near him in the night. He paused a moment, and frowned. “Yes, of course I'm sure!” He paused again, and this time he smiled widely, displaying long canines, fangs, essentially. “You really think so?” He paused yet again, as if listening to someone or something. His smile diminished slightly and he said, “We shall see. He will likely come back to this place.”

He suddenly wheeled on some unseen figure behind him. “No, we can't do that! Edge said so!” He paused yet again. “You know what would happen if we made him angry! We would never be free! This is our best chance. Let's not blow it now!”

He turned back to the city, the capital of Tharsus. “We will meet the little lab rat soon enough. He will come to us.”





*          *          *          *          *



         



Blade was fitfully dozing when Hides roused him some time later. It was night. “You should probably go check on her.” He said. Blade nodded, rose, and began toward the doorway that Frost had stormed through, reviewing in his mind possible speeches of inspiration to cheer up Frost.

When he walked in, Frost had curled up into a ball, and fallen asleep. Blade walked over to her, knelt down to her level, and watched her now calm face, her eyes still slightly red from her previous tears.

He gently reached out, laying his hand on Frost's shoulder. Her eyes shot open, and they rested immediately upon Blade's own. “Are you alright?” He asked, quietly.

“I'll be fine.” Frost said.

“Not from what I can see.”

Frost, now sitting up, bowed her head, her facade of bravado seen through like refined glass. She began to cry again, and laid her head on Blade's shoulder, her own shoulders wracked by her sobs.

Frost backed away, in control now, wiping away her tears. “You're a good man, Blade.”

Blade smiled and said, “Perhaps. Should we get to clothing me, then?”

Frost nodded and reached down to her belt for the money pouch. However, she frowned quickly and began to frantically search for it, as it had somehow gotten away from her belt.

“What is it?” Blade asked, not understanding her sudden frenzy.

“The money's gone!” Frost emphatically declared.

Blade immediately stood up, and rushed into the main area, where Hides was nowhere to be seen. Frost came up behind the large man. “That little weasel!” She hissed.

They rushed for the door, thinking to catch Hides and force him to hand over the money. When they opened that rickety old door, however, they found Hides leaning casually against the opposite wall of the alley, coyly dangling the money pouch over his folded arm by his other hand and smiling playfully. “Figured that'd get you guys out.” He said, then he tossed the money to Frost, who easily caught it, despite her dumbfounded expression, and he began to walk off, the two staring incredulously at his back before following.