In the Eye of Chaos

Dancing on the Edge of Midnight The darkness rose from the east, driving the sun on its relentless downward plunge over the lip of the world. For awhile the gleaming rays of orange and gold held sway, bathing the land in a radiant blanket of colour and warmth. At last the light vanished completely, the scarlet glow in the western skies shimmering in a final, glorious stand against the night, before blinking out of existence and surrendering its hold on the world. But the night did not hold dominion completely. Against the black canvas backdrop of the Pardor mountain range, lights winked into being, twinkling against the towering fastness like stars in the night sky. This was Eria, the stronghold of humankind in the north. A crow perched on the rocky walls, peering down into the evening streets with a detached curiosity. This was not his world; he did not belong here. Spreading his wings he launched himself into the night, letting the wind carry him. He cawed in exultation, and sped into the west as though chasing the long departed light. The Steppes passed beneath him, invisible save for a few lone spots of glowing illumination. Barbarian fires. He flew on without stopping, eager for the green of his home and the welcoming warmth of his mate. It had been too long since he had seen either of them and he was weary from his long hunts in the east. At last his destination came into sight, appearing on the horizon as no more than a faint smudge of black on the greater darkness of the night. He knew the scents well, would know them no matter how long he was away. Swooping low he shot along the earth like a straight black arrow, his wings folded back against his sleek body. Something was wrong. The wind buffeted him, catching him unprepared for an instant. He fought against the curiously strong currents and won, righting himself with some difficulty. He hovered on the fringes of the forest, his keen eyes peering into the darkness. For the moment he held back, his senses fearful of the presence he felt lurking within the forest. But his homing instincts were strong and at last he flew onwards, whipping down through the leafy canopy with ease. His downward momentum was arrested, suddenly and painfully. Cawing in agony he pulled upward, again hovering on the currents of air. But now he knew he had made a mistake. A great darkness lay on the forest. It was not like the darkness of the night, which helped to shield his sleek body from his prey. This was a bad darkness, something beyond his primitive understanding. He turned and flew again for the leafy fringes of the forest. But now his easy flight of a few moments ago was over. Something clutched at his feathers and pulled him back. He cawed loudly and fought against the groping presence, but it did no good. A cloud of feathers swirled up into the night sky, and the crow was gone, sucked into the darkness as though he had never been. * * * Further south, beyond the fog-wreathed, fly-infested murk of Fetin swamp, the dark forests of Windy Vale were stirring with activity. A shrill trumpet call pierced the night air, the sound passing with ease among the leafy boughs of the forest. Captain Vellaris closed his eyes and uttered a swift prayer to whichever God was listening, then turned to his left and waved for his men to fan out in a line along the banks of the river. The knights silently obliged, backing into the undergrowth that bordered the murky waters in the slim hopes that the thick tangle of greenery would help conceal them from the coming hordes. Vellaris had little doubt that the attacking goblins would spot them instantly. The fighting style of the Knighthood was not designed for woodland combat. They much preferred the glory and honour of open battle; out on the plains where they could see the enemy and any death would be a noble sacrifice. But here, skulking among the trees, Vellaris felt as though he had sunk as low as the green-skinned spawn of Seluctruh. There was no glorious honour to be won here. So thinking, the captain of the Erian garrison sank into the brush beside his second in command and watched the opposite banks with silent anticipation. Bremik whispered to him out of the corner of his mouth. "Rillin reports a further force of twenty, approaching the eastern fringes of the forest. The main force is still heading in this direction." Vellaris nodded and shifted his considerable bulk to a more comfortable position. The earth was damp and sponge-like, and his heavy plate armour was causing him to sink in almost up to his ankles. "Rillin and his men can handle those, I need the rest of the Knights here. We will have our work cut out for us." Bremik nodded and clutched his sword tighter. Just then, another horn call pierced the air and the first line of goblins bolted from the cover of the trees on the opposite bank of the river. Thirty or forty strong, they howled as they caught sight of the shining armour of the knights. Vellaris swore and scrambled to his feet. "I knew these god-cursed trees wouldn't hide us," he said and drew his sword. "CHARGE!" The knights rose from their cramped hiding places, glad for the chance of open combat at last. Many of the goblins stopped their mad dash and pulled short bows from their backs, firing randomly into the line of knights. Goblins were bad archers and most of the arrows fell far short of their intended marks. An inevitable few however drew lucky, the shafts bouncing off the thick armour of the knights, or piercing flesh in the unprotected joints. Two of Vellaris's men dropped to the ground with a cry of pain, but the captain could spare no time to see who they were. Reaching the river he plunged into the water and hurried across the ford. His men were close behind, splashing through the shallows with bellowing cries to their respective gods or goddesses. The goblins saw them coming and screeched. Some of them turned and ran, but others, braver than their companions or simply spurred on by their hatred of humankind, drew short, curved swords, and ran forward to meet the attack. Knight and goblin met with a clash of steel against steel. The trained knights had the advantage, for now. Their skill and discipline quickly began to show as they cut through the ranks of the goblins with ease, pushing them back towards the dark line of the forest. But Vellaris, driving his sword through the chest of his opponent watched nervously as more of the enemy began to pour out of the trees. Bremik was close by, cutting into the enemy with swift, confident strokes. Vellaris fought his way through the goblins until he was at Bremik's side. "Something is wrong," he said, cursing as a short goblin in a tattered leather breastplate suddenly stumbled out of the melee and almost knocked Vellaris's sword from his hand. "The dark spawned don't act like this by the light! Something is driving them." Bremik nodded his agreement. "But what?" Vellaris fell silent as he plunged his sword through the gut of a nearby goblin. When at last he spoke again, his voice was subdued. "I do not know," he said. "The light help me, I do not know." * * * In the streets of Eria, the silence of the night had suddenly gained a voice - the voice of the masses. Lights had appeared above the city, both dazzling and strangely ominous. Blue, red, silver, green and yellow all collided, expanded and swirled, sending dazzling arcs of colour across a sky that had been black and empty only moments before. The sight had brought the slumbering city suddenly to life, and the roads were quickly filling with curious citizens, and guardsmen who were watching the swelling crowds nervously. Arun, Afeek and Shandar followed the tide of life as it swept out of the inn's front doors and into the street where it joined the crowd of gathering spectators. Arun peered up into the sky, his face a mask of uncertainty. He peered sideways at the mage, Shandar, who frowned and shook his head. Afeek on the other hand, appeared genuinely impressed and gaped into the night sky with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. "What do you make of it?" he asked the mage. "I don't know," said Shandar. "But I do not think it bodes well. Anything that inspires this kind of chaos can never be good, however beautiful and inspiring it may seem." "Aye, and it comes from Bar-Gith." Arun pointed to where the lights were strongest, dancing and swirling in the distance. Shandar frowned and shook his head but remained silent. Afeek suddenly appeared before them, weaving lithely through the crowd with the stealth of a cat. "It is incredible," he whispered peering into the night sky in awe. The lights reflected in his dark eyes, and set his Katrin fur shining. "As a kitten, my mother's tribe would sometimes travel to the northern borders of Morgaz to witness the great lights. They came only once every five years. My people believed them to be the Gods, dancing on the edge of midnight. This is perhaps the same, only now they dance for the people of Eya." Arun did not have the heart to tell the young Katrin any different. He knew in his heart that he was not seeing the Gods. He only wished he knew what he WAS seeing.

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