Prologue -- The Cost of a Hero, the Price of Freedom

Introduction to Caspar Andrehle [ann - drael] and Ceron. The world of floating mountains is explored, as well as some of its darker corners and fears.

 

Prologue

 

The Cost of a Hero,

The Price of Freedom

 

"What does it mean to be a hero, Caspar?”  The father asked his daughter.

The little girl turned her head, smiling up at her father.  “Uhm…”  She bit her lip.  “It means you fight for people!”  She threw her arms up, giggling, tossing her curly dark hair.

Her father smiled back.  “Oh yeah?  Who would you fight for?”  He leaned closer to her off of his chair, his book folding closed over his fingers.

Caspar Andrehle jumped about, fighting imaginary foes.  “I’d protect you, Dad!”  Ironically, she began punching at his legs.

“Whoa, there!  I think you’re a bit confused!  How are you going to protect me from yourself, hm?  Oof!”  Her mother could be heard laughing from the next room, Caspar tackling into her father’s stomach before he lifted her into the air above his head, squirming and grabbing at him.  “And what if I fell off the Ark!?  How would you protect me then, little hero?”

Caspar’s bright blue eyes were distant, thinking of the edges of the Arks.  “What happens if you fall off?”  She knew the answer, but asked anyway, as she often did.

“All men live on Arks, Caspar, and I’ve never known anyone who fell.”  Her father laughed a little ashamedly, seeing that he had worried her.  “But, well… you fall.  There’s nothing down there but the misty Gael.”  He clasped her hand, his brown skin much darker against hers, only half-dark since her mother was light skinned.  “The whole world is just mist and floating mountains, you know, there’s nothing to be scared of down there.”

“Who… Who could grab you?”  Caspar stopped squirming, staring down into her father’s eyes.

“Well, I suppose nobody could.”  The young father swallowed hard.  “Th-that’s why you never go over the edge!  I’ll never let you fall, little girl.”  He hugged her down into his chest with his workworn hands.

“Would you grab me if I went off the edge?”  Her eyes were wide.

Her father squeezed her a little; she liked that best.  “Of course.  I’d jump right off and grab you.”

“And what if we fell all the way down… into the Gael?”  Caspar whispered.

Her father sighed.  “Don’t worry about it, love.”

She nestled closer to him, clutching her hands to her chin, still not looking at anything.

He smiled down at her.  “You’d save me, right?  If we fell through the mist and the clouds and into the Gael, and all we could see was eachother and the rock bottom of the Ark flying away above, I think you would save us, Caspar.  You’re a hero, after all!  Right?”

“Yeah!  I’d save you, Da!”  Again, she began punching at him.

“Hey, get offa me, girl!  What good are heroes if no one can protect you from them?”  He laughed, tumbling onto the floor with her.

 

*

 

The white fog passed, a darkly clad man standing on one of the peak’s edges.  The Arks rose through the storming Gael, the small peaks of them scarring the skies.  Breathing deep as he saw out into the open world again, the young commander was confident and self-determined �" and had just razed the capitol of the most powerful Empire in the known world.  The young officer stood at the Shale, the edge of the Ark, deciding how to live to tell the tale.

The Imperial cloudscapers, lumbering transports, flew beneath the neighboring Ark.  They were just detachments from a battlecarrier, the Imperial Tribute Ranseur.  The flying mountains overlapped just over the top of the Gael; one false step and he would fall to a slow, maddening death �" a risk he would take for watching his enemies.  The scapers were slow; they still had time.  It was heavily clouded above the Arks, giving the soldiers added concealment from the Imperials.  But, they did not need concealment:  they needed victory.  And he was prepared to claim it.

His name is Ceron.

Ceron heard footsteps over the wind.  He turned, his thick cloak picking up, the cold air finding the spaces in his armor; they had scavenged Imperial furs and smallplate, integrating what they could into their own homeland gear.

“I don’t like this.  These Arks are too small �" not even properly fit to be called Arks.  More like splinters of stone, barely able to grow the moss that subsists in this godforsaken North.  Leonodine’s men will make easy work of us on such an ill-favored Shale.  What are you thinking, Ceron?”  The approaching man mused, shifting his thick robes.  “You are always cloaked in your own intellect.”

The older man came and joined his companion at the edge of the Ark.

Ceron sighed, sweeping his eyes across the multitude of ‘splinter’ Arks.  His men would not be able to hide from the Imperials long; the blitz was over.  Now, how would he escape?  Could he escape?  Did this journey end with success, or carry on after it?  Did his heroics doom them all?

“What is the price of a hero?”  Ceron spoke.

The older man, named Auresius, raised a brow.  “Who is paying?  The people he saves or the hero himself?”

Ceron nodded.  “… Aye.”  Who, indeed?  Those that choose to follow him…? Ceron dismissed the musing without truly answering.  “It’s time, Auresius.  Why is the Empire so hellbent on preventing us from finding this relic?  If I’d known Emperor Leonodine would personally lead his finest, I would have commanded my men to keep raiding the capitol!”  Ceron laughed.  “I suppose that’s proof that you’re telling the truth, at least; Leonodine shows up himself, with no reason to suspect that we’d come here… other than the suspicion that you’d betrayed the Empire’s secrets over to us.”

Auresius shifted somewhat uncomfortably.  “Did you doubt me?”

Ceron looked him straight in the eye.  “I’ve known you for less than a month.  You betrayed the Empire, promised me her secrets, and haven’t even taken me out to meet any famous Imperial ladies.”

Auresius shook his head.  “You’ve got enough gall to doubletalk the gods.  Don’t worry, young commander.”  Auresius stepped passed the younger man, looking up the side of the Ark, toward the top of the mountain.  “Be grateful for your troopers; we may need them by the end.  We’re close.”

Ceron turned his back on the Shale, the wind howling.  “So is the enemy.  We go now.”  He had snatched a glimpse of the scouts returning through the mists.

He strode down the steep incline, hopping over rocks until he came to the small group of vessels.  The smooth stone was glossed with old rainwater, the mist and fog of the Gael swirling around the small Arks.

Leucan, gripping his sword tightly, faced Ceron.  “Lord Commander.  The Imperials�"”

“Closer than we thought, I know, Lieutenant.  Not a problem.  We just need to be gone or hold them off, depending on Auresius’ findings.”  Ceron pointed to the small group of his soldiers’ airships.

“Keep the reactors warm.  Whenever Auresius brings us out of there �" and with whatever we may have �" we’re getting the hell out of here!”  Turning back to Ceron, Leucan’s brow began to tighten.  “Lord, I don’t doubt you.  Ever.  You broke the Concentriste line when military geniuses spoke only of defeat.”  Leucan’s gruff voice grew lower.  “But… I see only rocks and fog.  Where is this Auresius taking us?  What if he is trying to get us all captured or… worse?”

“And what would he possibly have to gain by doing so?  They’d throw him in with us �" he openly rebelled.”

“What if he’s wrong?  What if he’s using us?  Sir, he is barely a stranger �" a month ago, he was one of our most feared enemies.”

“’Enemies closer,’ and all that.”  Ceron looked at Leucan’s sword.  “Tell you what, Lieutenant.  Come with us.  Put your lances in authority, come be my bodyguard.”  Ceron was smiling as he walked away, Leucan’s jaw working �" no one would dare say it to Leucan’s face, but Ceron was great at making the man nervous.

Ceron walked among the engineers and pilots, seeing that there were no men unsure of their duties �" or that did not realize their potential risk.  They had all agreed, all volunteered, but he knew that he was still responsible for their choices �" and to know that they trusted him with that responsibility gave him strength.

Footsteps came rushing behind, the men in Ceron’s vision growing tense and quiet.

Ceron turned to see Irma stop in front of him, barely remembering to salute.  “Sir!  Sir, Jelal’s and  Barad’s scouts, they have returned �" it is just as the Imperial said!  The turncoat spoke true!”  She gasped out.  “A cave with three stars set above the opening, effigies of cloaked figures just inside.  M-m’lord, what… what do we do?”  Irma, a brave soldier, was obviously afraid �" but Ceron could not help almost laughing as she continued.  “There are three Imperial squads, unmounted, in a gulch before the cave entrance, sir.  They did not spot us and do not seem to know the cave’s location �" they seem to be searching for it, too.”  It was ironic to Ceron that she was afraid of the cave, but that an enemy with cutting edge technology was an afterthought.

Ceron looked to Leucan.  “Don’t risk too many men, no ships.  Keep them quiet and make sure they aren’t a diversion.”  Ceron stepped away, Leucan receiving the rest of the report and organizing the offensive.

Auresius followed Ceron.  “She is right to be afraid.  She does not know that the fear she feels now is a pin and needle compared to the terror you are seeking.”

Ceron sighed.  “Death is the greatest terror, Auresius �" death, not because it makes you afraid, but because it ceases all of life’s joy.  This is what we are here to prevent, so if this thing  is what our enemy fears, I will raise it like a shield.”

Auresius gave no sign that he’d even heard Ceron, but continued as if monologuing.  “Ancient texts, dark science, antiquated empires… they all say the same thing:  It is impossible to over-embellish its capabilities.”

Ceron grinned.  “Don’t be saying that around my soldiers �" you are terrible for morale.  They’ll do it anyway, but I’d rather they smiled and laughed as they did so.  They’ve already come up with everything under the Gael �" and over it! �" that this thing could be.”  Some of their superstition may not be far off, he thought as he stepped up to the hatch of his own ship, the Espra.

Leucan was waiting for him �" ready to move, extra gear on his back.  Ceron collected a lantern, small ration, and his newest addition.  It was a long, slightly curving blade, freshly liberated from Leonodine’s own hall.  He smiled to himself in a boyish sense; he would have to find the name of the sword someday.

Leucan coldly stared at Auresius, turning his back.

“Formalities, Leucan; he has given you no reason to mistrust him.”  Ceron chided, turning to see Auresius.

Auresius nodded to Ceron.  “I appreciate that, young lord, but there is no time for formalities.”  Auresius’ face seemed pale.

Ceron’s jaw began to work in anticipation.  “Are you afraid, Auresius?”

He looked up into the young commander’s eyes.  “… Yes.  I have spent my life being taught to fear what we are about to see.”

“Good.  Then I know it is worth seeing.”  Ceron outstretched his arm, Leucan gasping; Ceron was offering Auresius his old shortblade.  “Because of what you are about to do, my homeland, my kin, and my brothers in arms may very well be the new writers of history.  The Concentristine Empire must learn the cost of others’ freedom �" and you will be their teacher… friend.  I know you won’t need this blade in the coming chambers, but we will need eachother’s trust.”

Auresius took the blade.  Leucan folded his arms.

“Thank you… friend.”

Five squads moved out, the tension closing in on them like the mist.  The wind picked up, giving them a sudden favorable viewing through the fog; the Imperials were preparing for pickup, but their retrieval beacon had not yet begun to sing.  Without even so much as a word of command, Leucan knew what Ceron wanted.  It was apparent that the Imperials were not all leaving; only some would be picked up, potentially to be replaced by an even greater force.  If the beacon could sing a different song, the ships may never land.  Lecuan’s sergeants headed two squads, Leucan another two, and Ceron the final.

The two sergeants plunged in for the surprise, suppressive bolts and cracks lighting up the fog.  The Imperials weren’t as unprepared as they’d looked, so Leucan brought in his two squads in a rushed pincer, pushing the chief Imperial defensive troops forward into the sergeants’ squads; Leucan’s men on the outside were the most experienced and well-armed, but by forcing the Imperial center to push forward, the sergeants didn’t need to worry.  Like being clenched by a fist, the Imperials were waning.

The only way to find how hard men can fight is to leave them with no escape, but this was not a skirmish to determine a field; this was silencing a lesser force.

Ceron’s squad, led by his curving, glowing sword, plunged from the mist directly into the now weakened center, three men assigned to one express purpose under the protection of Lord Ceron himself �" douse the beacon before it sang.

The remaining troops surrendered, taken capture to be returned to camp with two of the squads.

Ceron approached their surviving commanding officer.  “When was the beacon to be lit?”

The man looked defiantly into Ceron’s face.  Ceron looked for one moment at Leucan, then turned away.  Leucan �" nearly seven feet tall �" lifted the short Concentristan and held him over the edge of the Ark with one arm.

“My shoulder’s getting tired from all that fighting, Lieutenant.”  He said to the captured officer.  “Maybe I could use the men under you to convince you to speak up?”

The man did not make afraid, but immediately spoke.  “One hour, those cloudscapers will pass by this stone.  We were given word that the Ranseur will be here in three hours.  We were to be given extra instructions from a scaper and give reports.”

Ceron laid a hand on Leucan’s shoulder.  The burly Lieutenant pulled the officer back.

“And what were you going to report, Concentristan?”

“There’s nothing here.  You’ve come to the wrong place, Aearchine Commander.   When you try to leave, you will be captured.”

Ceron raised an eyebrow.  “Was that all?”  After a silence, Ceron jerked his head and the officer was taken with the other prisoners.  “Auresius, do you know how to talk to those scapers?”

Auresius nodded.  “What do you want me to say?”

Ceron looked around at the fog.  “We’ll need some camouflage first.  Leucan, there isn’t much time �" there never is.  Bring the strongest in aer and give us a discrete blanket of mists.”

“All of our energy is weakening, sir, and the ships cannot be taxed without risk of losing lift power.”  Leucan said.  “And why the strongest?  You or I could do just as much to move a near windless fog.”

Ceron nodded.  “I know.  I want the strongest because they have the most control �" I don’t want them to hurt the prisoners.”

Auresius’ brows shot up, especially when Leucan saluted in prompt compliance.  “I am no military man, but isn’t drawing energy from a prisoner a war crime?”

“Yes.  It’s actually over three different war crimes.  But war is the greater crime.”  Ceron looked at Auresius levelly.  “First, I will need to have them convinced to allow it.”

Auresius said nothing.

“You, Auresius, will convince them.”  Auresius opened his mouth to protest, but Ceron raised his hand.  “It is not an option.  If we fail, the Empire will blunder into a greater threat.  Trust that I know this.”  Ceron spoke it as if he were reciting a covenant, expected to be taken as if both already knew it were true.

Auresius grimaced, but nodded his compliance, as well.

Seven of the Aearchine magetroopers stood around the prisoners.  They began channeling the mist to form a foggy dome around the stone outcropping, such that they were hidden.  The prisoners, utterly convinced by Auresius’ rumor of a greater threat, shuddered as raw power was pulled from their unprotected souls and converted to aer energy.  Three of the magetroopers maintained the mist and four laid down a dispersive aura, so the Imperials would not see that the mist was unnatural.

In the hour, the scapers flew by.  Auresius manned the beacon, informing the scapers that there had been no signs of enemy movement or of any ancient reliquaries, but that they were not in need of pick-up and still had a sector to explore, informing them of the many cliffs that created hiding places.  The scapers gave their instructions, nothing important, and left them in the mist.

 

Seven warriors with Leucan, Auresius, and Ceron stood at the misted opening, like an upturned chasm cut in the solid rock.

“You’re lucky.  If you hadn’t been here for those extra few hours, the Imperials would have had nearly greater chances to find this.”  Auresius muttered.

 Leucan scowled.  “It was not luck that the Lord Ceron blasted your Concentristans when he made the opportunity, buying us the time that we needed.  Don’t waste it, Imperial.”

Ceron suddenly took the first steps within. 

“Leucan, I know you’re afraid of the dark, but I’m here for you, I promise.”

Leucan’s stoic face didn’t even twitch.  The others weren’t sure if they should laugh.  Ceron’s pale lantern struck up in the darkness.

“See?”  Ceron smiled.

Leucan walked in after him.  “Thank you, sir.  I forgot to bring a second pair of trousers, but it should be fine so long as you hold my hand.”

Auresius went after them.  The others still weren’t laughing.

“What happens if we get there and this… thing goes off on us, eh?”  One of them whispered.

Auresius’ brow raised.  “We soil ourselves, and I mean even worse than Leucan has.”

Ceron suddenly stopped.  “Auresius!  I know we’re friends now, but be nice to my soldiers!  They’re sensitive.”

Somehow, even Auresius could tell by Ceron’s tone �" despite while joking �" that all chatter was over.

Auresius raised his lantern, illuminating the manmade passage.  “Don’t worry about traps anymore.  Our teams combed the complex and I am trained in detecting most of them.”

Leucan straightened.  “Most?  Forgive my military efficiency, but what if I wanted more than most?”

Auresius didn’t even look at him, still peering into the darkness.  “Traps are designed to do two things, Lieutenant; first, they are… persuasive to anyone but the owners, and, second… well, let’s just say that some traps were made to be sprung.”

Ceron could tell Leucan was gripping his sword, the man’s knuckles cracking.  “Silence.”  With one word, Ceron was again in total control.

They began the descent.  Before long, they were going down.  Into darkness.

Ceron, seeing the darkness begin to envelop and the light cut away sharply, realized a new fear.  “Auresius, you said that this place was something of a… labyrinth.  You yourself don’t know how to get where you’re going.”

Auresius nodded.  “And you say that I make your soldiers afraid.”  He muttered.

Ceron didn’t smile.  “How will we get out?  I’m guessing this place was designed to scare people away or welcome them for the rest of their days.”

Auresius procured a long, white cord.  “Simple.”  He extended a few feet of it; his heavy pack on his shoulder was now basically empty due to the lack of the cord.  “We leave these at intervals, when there is a curve, new path, or descent.”  He sliced the cord and held it aloft, daubing a single dot onto the cord and another on his shirt.  “Every cord has more dots.”

Ceron breathed easier.  “Good.  Simple solution from a great mind.”  He smiled.

Auresius nodded thanks.  “Now let us hope we do not lose the light, or nothing simple will await us.”  They carried on.

The stone sloped, becoming jagged.  The walls became angular, obviously made by human hands.  For what seemed hours, Auresius took them about the winding corners and into small chambers.  After these chambers, the way was not always open; Ceron had noticed the leavings of gear, disturbed dust, and scratches of engineers’ machinery on the floor, but they became more rare as they went along.  They left markings and strung thin rope in areas that had multiple passages to ensure a quick exit.  Auresius occasionally converted some of his own energy to open an ancient door or remove a barrier.  The weathering from the caverns’ entrance was lessened as they delved, the walls retaining untranslatable murals and symbols of a bygone era.  The men were becoming anxious as the halls became a complex maze.  The detail was more apparent as they delved, but the darkness more enveloping.  In some places, weathering and ruin returned as violent shifts had taken place in the architecture; great holes, fissures, and splits in the stone.  After this, Auresius used his artifacts, scientific tools, and sometimes purely guessed �" Ceron knew when this happened, but said nothing.  The others grew weary of the long path �" they were all on edge.

Auresius stopped at a door, brushing the dust off of the tall, flat stone.  There were symbols carved there, as in many places, but this was somehow different.

“Ceron.  This is the furthest I’ve come.  At this door, Emperor Leonodine restricted our project and forced us back.  We were all grateful.”  Auresius turned to look at Ceron.  “Do you know this sign?”  He pointed at the center of the door.

It was most akin to a beast-like skull, a pattern of twisting horns seemingly becoming wings that formed a braided circle around the skull.

Ceron did not speak for the sake of the others.  “Yes.”  Zodiac.

They took an inventory of their gear while Auresius studied the door.  Not knowing what to expect, they had four men with lances and three with swords, all with a shortbow.

Leucan ran his hand over the surface.  “The lances will lead, bows behind.  The creature, if it is indeed there, will probably not try to scatter us.  No matter the breed, it is imperative we work together.  A man alone is far more dangerous than a disorganized group, but haste does not keep you alive.  Unity is our safety and strength.”  Leucan summarized their strategy, shooting a glare at Auresius with his final statement.

The men seemed more at ease, now.  It was easier to know that you might have something more to face than darkness, even if that something was an eldritch legend.

All ready, Ceron and Leucan protected Auresius as he unlocked the door and darted behind the rest of them.  Pushing the door open slightly, but firmly, Leucan and Ceron looked at eachother quizzically, each with a hand on the door; it had moved, but now seemed to stop, as if against something… soft.

The door flung back against its great metal hinges concealed inside the wall, cracking the stone and breaking the doors off the wall.  Two lanterns fell to the ground and sputtered in flashes on the floor, the beast looming before them.  Floating in the darkness, it was a near human face, but with a cleft palette and elongated snout.  Twisting horns and blunt claws, long and sinewy arms.  The furred body fluidly leapt, the beast nearly too tall for the corridor.

Scrambling to his feet, head ringing, Ceron knew they had to get out of the cramped corridor.  “Inside, inside!”  Ceron urged as the beast clashed in the darkness with the men, eyes glowing with the blood of the Zodiac, frenzied yet calculated strength testing their mettle.

They were in, backing away in a delta formation.  The beast drew the energy from their lamps, the wickering lights barely preserved as each man tethered it to his own body’s power.  The beast gave a braying roar, stamping upon the ground in a challenge, the clack and smash of hoofed feet entering the larger chamber.

Leucan urged the lances forward as Auresius, behind everyone, gasped.  “It is a seed of Kheiron, placed here to protect the reliquary!  It can live like a reptile, decades without food and still as strong as steel!”  The Kheiron rumbled, the men’s eyes trying to adjust to gauge the size and danger of the beast in the shadows.

Leucan squinted.  “It stands on two hind legs.  If we can hamstring the creature, then �"” it rushed them, coming in at an angle at the last moment.

As it passed, a hindleg lashed out with visceral accuracy, rendering two of the men unable to walk, one sword and one lance, breaking one of the lances in twain.  Ceron quickly pulled them both back, one pushing with his own leg as he clamped down on the other, bloodied.  Hefting the fallen lance, Ceron took the place as a forward, the massive beast prowling on all fours in the shadow.

The others were beginning to lose their center with one less man and the danger at hand, but Ceron forsook his sight and keenly listened for the scrape of the hooves.  Leaning back, the beast pushed forward as from a springboard, but Ceron was ready.

“Stand-on!”  He shouted just as he heard the sound, a note of triumph in his voice.

Each put the butt of his spear under his boot and the lanceheads were ignited with a shimmering fire, the points ready to catch the beast as it came by �" a core tactic when engaging a larger beast.

All but one lance was roughly jerked from their hands, the tactic predicted.  The lights illuminated the beast’s sinuous frame; Ceron gasped to think how strong it would be if not starving.  The lights of the spearheads vanished, one by one.

Leucan wrenched his sword from the sheathe, gripping another man’s shoulder to pull him back to his feet.  The beast guttered out a growl, snapping and grunting.  A splintered lance haft bounced back into the rim of their light.  They tightened up, Ceron and Leucan on point, lanterns hooked to their belts.

Auresius nearly had his back to the wall.  “The beast is old… noble… it knows the ways of men.”  He swallowed.  “And, all that aside, it has the only door we know about on its side.”  Auresius managed a dry chuckle, Leucan glancing at him in angry bewilderment.

The beast loomed in the shadow, the pool of wavering light catching its eyes and pawlike hands as it came slowly into the light.  Ceron thought that it was perhaps losing perception due to light exposure, or even revealing itself.  The creature had not eaten in years, ribs showing beneath its muscled chest and shoulders, goatlike face gaunt and gray.  They held their stance, Ceron considering a flanking maneuvre followed by a feint to catch it on the weak ribs.  Ceron clenched his teeth, battlelust welling inside now that he could properly see his foe; if he could see it, he could understand its weaknesses.

The lanterns not only went out, they shattered.  One of the men gasped, working into a yell.  Ceron, closing his eyes, tried to work with his conditions and stepped forward in a vicious, all-out slash.  At least, he told himself to �" like a concussion, his mind went white and all of his limbs spasmed as he collapsed.  Flailing his arms after an unknown moment on the ground, he found the others around him limp, cradling their heads or spread haphazardly.  Wretched, he felt that he would vomit, a piercing pain stringing through his head.

His hand landed on glass, cutting his finger on the keen edge.  Scrabbling with his leathered palm, he felt for the globe from his lantern.  The ball rolling, he desperately snatched for it.  Mustering his courage, knowing what he might see, he pierced the globe with his knife so that the fire of it would not ruin his hand.  Channelling rys, the globe ignited, pale light shimmering like firesand off the globe.

Littered about him, the soldiers and Auresius lay unconscious.  The Zodiac beast stood just as tall, staring down at him.  The beast, fiercely elegant, stared into him.  Eyes on the beast’s, he leaned down and gripped his sword.  Raising it aloft, he kept his breathing steady as the beast’s lips peeled back in a rictus of purest, enraged valor, challenging him again.

Another bellow came forth, the muscled arms flexed, nearly bouncing on its deadly kicking legs.  He stood no chance.

What is the price of a hero?  He repeated.  “For our freedom…”  He breathed, casting the sword upon the ground and standing to face the magnificent beast.

Roaring and crashing its paw-hands into the ground, slashing grooves into the stone with its hooves, the beast left through the broken door and Ceron knew it would never return to the ruins.  The nature of beasts was confusing even to the scholarly, but the creatures of the blood of the Zodiac acted on higher principles than anything that walked the world; a beast of lesser blood would have devoured him, but even starvation would not tempt a Zodiac with dishonor.

He awoke the others, each taking time to overcome the splitting pain in their heads.  When the time came, they made for the opposite door and prepared for a further journey into the dark depths of the Ark.

Three of the soldiers stayed behind to maintain a checkpoint and care for the injured man.  “We have no time to spare.  We must move with less caution and more risk.”  Auresius said, who had suggested leaving some men behind.  “We cannot blind ourselves with hopes of honor.”

Ceron nodded.  “We are not here for glory.  We are soldiers, Auresius �" you do not have to justify anything to us.

The door led to a short hall, with another door at the end of it.  They pushed it open.

And they were there.  Auresius looked shocked.  A room just as black as the rest of the complex, but this was a work of art �" vaulted ceilings and arches in the walls.  It felt as if they were in the center of a stone chapel.

“… The ancients… I thought… would have gone deeper than just this.”  He whispered.

Only Ceron heard him.

Auresius went from place to place, looking for some kind of sign.  Ceron watched him, occasionally stepping somewhere that Auresius had already been.  Like many of the other rooms, there were carvings and pictorials on the walls, but none of them meant anything to Ceron.  He would rarely spot a symbol that he half-recognized, but not in any coherent context.  As he walked, he realized he was following the marks he had seen before �" the cuts in the stone, the blasted holes �" but now he saw a sequence in them, a pattern he had come to learn:  these were the marks of a battle.  Despite this battle obviously occurring long before, he clenched his jaw, hand on his sword.

And still, Ceron was patient.

Auresius had been standing at the same spot, by the middle of the wall opposite the entrance, for some time.  The others were tending their wounds but, noticing Ceron’s behavior, had begun watching the old Imperial closely.

“He doesn’t know…”

“We’re lost!”

Leucan growled, the others quieting once more.  Ceron approached Auresius.

Ceron eyed the confused man:  he truly was old.  “It could be that things have changed.”  Ceron whispered.

Auresius looked at him fearfully.  “What do you mean?”

Ceron shook his head.  “Don’t worry; you’re still my friend.  I’m not going to betray you.”

Auresius looked passed Ceron, opening his mouth, but just closing it.  “Thank you.  You really are the hero here, you know.”

“You asked me who was paying the price of a hero �" but you never answered to begin with.  What is the price?”

Auresius looked down.  “Sacrifice.  The price of a hero is sacrifice.”

Ceron said nothing for a time.  “You have paid more than I ever have, then.”  He placed his hand on Auresius’ shoulder, gave him a firm grip, and walked away.  He has sacrificed; I come only seeking power…  Ceron sighed.

Auresius turned and watched him, but suddenly grew very still.

“I grow tired of these lanterns!  How is it that they do not light our way more?  I’ve used this one for years, we should see better!”  A soldier finally groused, eager to carry on �" bored now that Ceron had simply walked away from the Imperial.

“It’s this blasted place �" these unholy walls drink the light!  We can’t even see what’s around us!”

“Quiet, idiot!”  Another hissed.  “If the beast is gone, let’s not get its attention again…”

“Of course it can hear us, and now we’ve reached a dead end �" its got us right where it wa�"”

“It will be a blessing compared to me.”  Leucan loomed over them suddenly, his hard features like iron in the lanternlight.  “You were once brave men.”

They spoke no more.  Ceron was running his hand across etches on the wall.  The dark chewed at them, the stale air whispering unspeakable lies to their minds of phantoms and ancient traps.

“I won’t assume my knowledge is complete, but we may not have much further to go… it should be here.”  Auresius muttered to them all.

Leucan, strapping a bandage across his arm, turned to the old man.  “What should be?”

Auresius stared him right in the eyes.  “… The part I never told you about.”  The old man was in the center of the room.

Ceron stopped.  “It must be closer than I’d suspected, even; I thought you’d only say that when we were right on top of it.”

Auresius’ eyes narrowed.  “You’re a spectacle, sir; you must have guessed every move I could’ve made.”  Auresius turned to face Ceron, but did not move his feet.  “You always have a way of saying… just the right things...”  Auresius stared down, purpose in his eyes.

Leucan moved toward him like a winter storm.  “If this is a double-cross… What have you led us into, Imperial…?”

Auresius raised a hand.  “Stop!  I haven’t led you into anything �" you were just allowed to follow me.  There must be a tribute paid, a price for entry.  A blood offering.  A sacrifice…”

Ceron turned toward him.  “Whose blood?”

The soldiers panicked, backing away.  “He means to sacrifice us!  He’s a sorcerer!”

Auresius sighed, speaking to Ceron.  “… Didn’t I tell you that I was afraid…?”  Auresius closed his eyes and folded his hands at his waist, as if he were praying.

Ceron tried to leap forward, but he was a room away.  Auresius was suddenly lit up in white light, emanating from lines carved into the floor.  Circles and lines, apocryphal symbols and lost shapes, blazing with a sudden fury.  The floor collapsed.  Auresius gasped, Ceron crying out to him �" and, in his rush to save the old man, went toppling into the opening along with him.

 

Ceron awoke, the sound of Leucan’s voice calling to him, hoarse and pleading.  He was about to respond, but was suddenly struck by surprise; he was in a long hall, so beautiful it could have been shaped by gods.  Though it was still mostly dark, the walls were like ivory and diamond, great crystal sconces burning and scintillating.

Auresius lay close to him.  “You never said that you were of the same house as the Stewards,” Ceron muttered.

Ceron stood, pieces of stone and debris falling off of him.  He looked up.  They had fallen far, but he could not tell how far; it had not been a straight shot.  The way up seemed to have been made to fold into stairs, creating a pathway down, but it had broken and swallowed the two of them.  Looking at Auresius again, the old man was not bloodied �" except for small scrapes from the fall �" but still looked drained from whatever he had done to get them there.  He was alive.  Ceron turned the man’s face so that he could breathe, still shocked that Auresius was of a Stewardic bloodline �" his ‘blood offering,’ not of spilling it, but proving it was legitimate.  But none of that mattered.  Ceron did not make any efforts to wake him �" his need was too great.

He walked down the lambent hall, finally making out the end:  a black door.  There was not a carving, opening, or crack upon it �" not even the texture of stone or other material.  He did not slow his pace, stopping only when he was in front of it.  At first, he thought he would need Auresius again, otherwise he could not open the door �"

And, with a vacuuming silence, it began to rise up into the ceiling.  Ceron watched, backing away a few steps, pure darkness behind the door.  The stone stopped and he peered into the nothingness before him.  It was almost as if he could see…

He whirled about as each intricate light flickered, suddenly burning with white fire, then flicking into darkness.  Knowing nothing about what was happening, he was alone, defenseless, but unafraid.  He looked forward.  He knew he was prepared.  He could feel his whole being, born for this moment, born to achieve this greatest of honors �" born to step forward and see what was in the darkness.

It was blue.

Author's Note

Does the action have decent flow?

Is the dialogue natural?

Are there too many elements/pronouns introduced at once?

Does the ending leave you interested?

Reviews

[Vawn]

Ok HOLY crap this is long az hell. I don't think I was ready for this long story. (it's late at night sorry) I personally don't think your prologue shouldn't be this long... more small and concise maybe, but than again I'm probably complaining cause I'm half tired :P. But seriously it is a little long, maybe you should learn what you want to convey with this prologue. I assume you want the reader to think what it actually means to be a "Hero" But it's definitely not a BAD thing and after I put cold water on my face I was able to get into it more.

As far as the dialogue, I say it's decent. I'm assuming this is around medieval time, so it sounds appropriate. The action flow is 50/50 I got a little confuse at points and had to re read.

This part however through me for a loop. "Bewildered, yet strangely understanding, Ceron mused on an old proverb: The honor of beasts was once the honor of men. He always wondered what added meanings were in it. He awoke the others"

Why would a beast who hadn't eaten in years just leave a tasty meal?

Now at the end I believe you have a nice little cliffhanger, but that "It was blue" at the end kind of threw me off. All in all very good intriguing, and I will definitely read more.

Hope I help you out, I know my feedback probably sucks.

[Dark Traveler]

Okay, I've made changes according to what you said, with the exception of length. Since this is a fantasy, I feel marginally justified by the length, even if I can't cite an example of such a long Prologue in any way. Your feedback is solid, thank you.

I changed the beast-leaving-tasty-meal thing. These creatures are a bit different than your stock monsters and are pretty central to the plot later on; they behave with strict motives and what could be called a code of honor, even at the cost of their own lives. Essentially, samurai bushido applied to giant monsters was the original thought, though it doesn't resemble that now.

Otherwise, sorry if it was surprisingly long... and it's not even the longest chapter. Not by a grip.