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Ruination

By: panama trick



Deep in the Himalayas, in another time when the world is quite different than today there is a valley. It is flanked by the snow-clad crags of the closest mountains and is home to a happy and proud people. The beauty of the valley is without peer in this world with the granite cliffs butting up against a thick, dark, fragrant rain forest. In the valley are small farms and towns with active commerce and a focus on love and life that is simple and pure. It also houses the Dale, the sacred place of the Questor and His slave girl fireinnereyes. Many of Y/you have caught glimpses or heard rumours of it, but its tranquil air and mysterious location have rarely been seen by A/anyone but the ruling Questor and His consort.

Also deep in the Himalayas, there is a Darkness. It is flanked by the snow-clad crags of the closest mountains and is home to a vile and hateful Evil. The Darkness is without hope or love and consumes all who pass through it. The Beast who rules is known as the Ruination, for It has the power to destroy and alter anything pure and beautiful. It has known many names over the years, both forward and backward in time, and has been responsible for wars and tragedies beyond the ken of mortal Men. Wherever there is strife and hatred, bigotry and tragedy the Ruination or one of Its creatures will be found if you can see them.

Atop the mountain cliffs overlooking this verdant and peaceful valley is the Palace of the Questors. It is in essence a Monastery, a place of training and solitude for the warrior monks of the Quest that has been there since time immemorial. It's ramparts overlook the valley and to the East there are outlooks, which clearly show the rising sun each morning.

The present Questor is a stranger who was found wandering in the valley after a series of battles in the East. He had been enslaved and beaten, His life mostly unremembered and taken to the Palace for healing. He quickly grew to love the people of the valley, to adapt to their style of life and entered into training with the warrior monks. To the surprise of A/all He was as if born to the training and progressed through the ranks quickly. When the eldest Monk found it time to move on to Nirvana He called Tantrick to His bedside and named Him the new Questor.

It had been many years, the valley was safe ... the people were happy; The Questor was a fit Guardian of the Way. But something wasn't right ... these days the Questor was usually to be found in the lookouts to the East, peering out at a shadow, which rose into the sky from far away and became darker everyday, until it threatened to block out the sun. Something was coming.

Just this morning, the Questor slipped down the side of the Mountain to the East and slid quietly into the frontier, pressing ever Eastward, looking for the source. He sent one of the Eagles to the West to find an old Friend and Warrior. He feared that He would have need of that Ones courage and counsel.

He left the girl fireinnereyes to train with the monks and ready them; also to wait for the One He hoped would arrive from the West.

At that very moment, the Ruination began its assault quietly and without fanfare, strange creatures left the Darkness and headed to the West.

It was about to begin.............

The Questor was worried, He'd been traveling for two days now ... due east. He seemed no closer to answering the questions He had about what was out there. He had left the relative safety of the Palace to scout and identify what was coming. He hoped against hope that it wasn't The Ruination.

That Evil was supposed to have been removed from the World in the last Great War. It made His stomach churn just remembering the Tales He'd heard from the Elder Monks about how the survivors of battles were taken and twisted and deformed ... then sent back out to fight and kill for the very cancer that had turned their lives and those who loved them inside out.

He had appeared in the valley shortly after that last battle, no memory, beaten, eyes empty, and a grim snarl on His lips. The Brotherhood of the Questors had taken Him in and healed Him; in return He guarded them with all His strength and skill and had become a great Leader.

He prayed to the Gods of the Mountain ... to the Spirits of the Jungle that it was something less, something simple and obvious that He could put His hands on and choke the life out of. 

The jungle was thick and steamy, the swamp dark and ominous ... He could hardly see the sky anymore, the darkness was settling like a pillow on His face, at times He found it hard to breathe.

This morning He came upon a battlefield, there were bones of Men, and Animals, and strange unrecognizable things that He didn't want to think about. 

One skeleton in particular drew Him; it seemed to call His name. As He approached He saw a coat of arms on a shield that had been hacked and pierced by arrows so many times it was almost transparent. For some reason the sight of the shield brought Him near to tears and He looked around at the scene of the battle. He'd been here before, He was sure of it ... snatches of nightmare voices echoed in His head and He felt the weight of slave chains being attached to His legs and arms.

He shook Himself violently, like a tiger moving out of the water ... the fear dissipating for a second as He bent to the Man with the shield. A sword was beside Him, the blade bright and clean as if it had never been lying in this fen. As He reached to lift it, a shock ran through His arm at the touch. A low growl ripped from His chest and His eyes narrowed and went dark blue. He'd held this sword before, the Bowie on His back keened with a high-pitched whine when He lifted the sword and the sword answered.

He raised the sword to the sky ... for some reason, He felt complete. He traveled on into the East ... slipping quietly past the bodies and into the shelter of the jungle.

He turned once to look back to the peaks of His Home, He hoped His girl was thinking of Him it would be good to see her once again. He prayed that it would be a joyous reuniting. In the meantime He must keep on.

There were miles to go ............

This morning the woman Suha had set out from the Darkness. She was looking for the Questor who had been reported in the jungle headed to the East.

As He came upon an old battlefield in the jungle, she was setting a trap with a group of her followers. The Hold was directly in the Questor's path and she would be waiting for His arrival. 

She had a hatred for the Questor, which was almost palpable, when He had been a General in the Ruination army He had taken her and several others of the Eagle people and delivered them to His Dark Lord for the Ruinations pleasures and dark purposes. She had nightmares, even though she had become a nightmare herself of the torture she had undergone, of the loss of her ability to change and fly. It was all the fault of the Questor, never mind that He had eventually turned on the Ruination and sent It back to the dark hell It came from ... she wanted His blood.

And so it came to pass that the Questor arrived a day after. The trap was laid; He had been carefully led here by her clever mind. When He burst on the scene the scent of blood rode high on the breeze and her creatures were tearing at the flesh of a Man. She could see from the edge of the jungle as His hackles rose, this was one of those things He had hoped to never see again. She chuckled quietly under her breath and waited.

Two Men, tall, dark, brutal looking dragged a young boy into the circle. They threw Him into the crowd of creatures and as He landed the beasts turned and moved quickly on Him.

The Questor came at them silently moving like a cat, the sword swinging in a great arc. His firm muscles and lithe form dancing and slashing as He engaged them, a savage growl erupted from Him as he ran into the first one. Flesh splattered and sprayed, limbs fell, and heads burst open from the force of the impact. The fighting rage was full on Him and He slew. 

The two Men who had brought the boy waited, their eyes bright, their lips twisted in amusement and when He was through they closed on Him ... drawing their swords. One swung low, one swung high, a tactic which would have destroyed any other, but the Questor was ready ... His reflexes were too sudden and He had seen these tactics before. The Bowie appeared in one hand as if by magic and flew through the air to the face of the one who struck high. The great sword of the Questor sang gloriously and parried the low blow by the other. The one who had struck high's sword continued it's swing and sliced into the one who went low as He dropped dead to the clearing floor. The final blow by the Questor was fast and simple. He beheaded the one remaining.

He knelt beside the boy, the Bowie slicing through the bonds on His wrists and ankles and poked Him.

"Get out of here boy, move quickly".

The lilting voice behind Him surprised Him, who had managed to close on Him so silently? He turned and saw a beautiful woman with hard white eyes, her hair like coal, but her features young and unlined standing there, a cape of feathers surrounding her. She laughed and floated toward Him, "Questor, You've come far, you should rest."

Her eyes went wide, her lips moving in an ancient language and as her hand reached out to touch Him the strength left His body and He collapsed beside the corpses of those He had slain ... His last sight was of the woman laughing softly to herself, thinking of the torture and pain He would experience at her hands.

His eyes closed and He spun down into darkness ...............

They were in the Hold, the Western Most stronghold of the Ruination. The woman Suha was one of the Eagle People that guarded the heights above the Palace. She had been taken in the previous war and twisted and altered by the Evil. She was both less and more than she had been in those days. While she no longer had the power of flight, the power of transmogrification had been altered into the ability to stun and control Men with just a single touch. 

The Questor was being held in one of the cells beneath the Main Hall. He had been double chained and there were guards rustling around outside the door. The cell was pitch black, the only light coming from a small crack under the door and that not enough to light more than the fact that there was indeed a way out. It was dark when He woke, pitch black. The image of the woman flashed before His eyes and His hand reached quickly to choke her ... only to be stopped dead by the manacle and chain. He strained against the chains, He'd sworn that this would never happen to Him again but they were strong and firm. Apparently they had heard of the Questor and had been prepared for Him.

He tried to rise to His feet but the chains were too short and too close to the ground. However the rattling apparently had some effect ... a voice came out of the gloom.

"They're strong enough to hold even You Questor; I saw when they brought you in that they doubled the chain. For me the single chain is sufficient, especially since they haven't fed me in a week."

The Questor laughed, "We'll see about that, but the good news is they haven't killed Me yet, they must want Me alive for something."

The voice replied, "that may not be such good news Questor, before they are through with you, you may pray for death."

A chill ran up His spine, a memory of the torture He'd undergone before pushing to the front of His mind. The scars were seared into His body, His mind and His soul; somehow He'd escaped and wandered into the valley where the monks found Him. While He was not afraid of the dark, the idea of going through that kind of torment again filled Him with dread. It had almost destroyed Him before and He'd be damned if He would allow it again.

He turned back to the voice, "I need information My friend. What do you know of where We are and who this woman is?"

The voice seemingly coming from next to Him at one moment and across a chasm of time and space at another told Him a tale that mesmerized Him. They were in the Hold, the Western Most stronghold of the Ruination. The woman it seemed was one of the Eagle People that guarded the heights above the Palace. She had been taken in the previous war and twisted and altered by the Evil. She was both less and more than she had been in those days. While she no longer had the power of flight, the power of transmogrification had been altered into the ability to stun and control Men with just a single touch. The Questor found Himself grieving for her, He knew the Eagle People well and the value they put on Their freedom and their ability to fly. To lose those would destroy the soul of Them.

The door opened and light from a passageway poured into the room. Strong hands grabbed Him, a hood was yanked over His head and He was pulled from the shackles, His feet fettered together, arms bound behind His back and dragged from the room.

A door opened as the voice slowly sunk to silence, light from a passageway pouring into the room. The Questor was disgusted to see a half dozen skeletons shackled as He was and even more ghastly was the creature that had been talking to Him. It may have once been a Man but it no longer resembled anything remotely human. Dark, empty eyes slid around the room, obviously sightless but somehow taking in all that was going on. The creature's skin was the color of a well-fed maggot in a corpse and the features were so ill defined that He couldn't have begun to tell you what it was now.

Strong hands grabbed Him, a hood was yanked over His head and He was pulled from the shackles, His feet fettered together, arms bound behind His back and dragged from the room.

Where were they taking Him? Was this the way to the torture chamber? Was He to be slain?

He was deposited roughly on a marble floor, the voice that spoke immediately recognizable. He snarled at the sound and pulled Himself into a coil of ready steel. Just one second, that's all He needed. One moment of free movement and He would kill the bitch. Whether He escaped or not was of no consequence, He didn't expect to live through whatever was planned for Him anyway.

The voice spoke again, "you may leave Him here. I'll handle it for now." The sound of whatever or whoever had dragged Him here quickly left, the echoes of their boots on the marble distinct. Suddenly the hood was snatched from His head. He looked up from the floor at the woman, silently appraising His situation. She looked at Him with a bemused smile and said, "so Questor, You've decided to take advantage of My hospitality have You?"

He growled at her, which brought a peal of delighted laughter from her. "Get up, Questor, stand up like a Man!"

He stood; struggling to His feet and lifting His chin and eyes to look her directly in the face. "What can I do for you Monster? Why am I here? What reason have You for imprisoning Me?"

Again she burst into laughter, "Monster? I suppose I am. Why? You amuse Me Questor. Your reign has been long and fruitful for the Valley and the Brotherhood, but not so long ago You were one of the very same Monsters of the Ruination. Don't You remember? A slayer You were, the best... the purest killer the Evil ever twisted out of a Man! A General in His army! YOU are responsible for me; You took me prisoner in Your last battle as the Ruination's General and delivered me to that black Evil! I was changed and twisted ... denied my birthright of the skies and torn from my son. The monster You see before You is of Your creation! There was only One more evil than You.

But somewhere deep inside You there was a conscience. You turned on the Ruination and almost single-handedly destroyed it forever."

His head throbbed and His eyes darkened at her words. Yet somehow He knew she was telling the truth. It explained a lot, the dark moods, the killing rages, the lack of compassion He felt for fools or criminals. Yes, He supposed that some would call Him Monster too. 

"And why am I here now woman? What is Your purpose with Me?"

"Why it's simple Questor," she walked toward Him and ran her fingers lightly over His muscular shoulders down His powerful arms and then back up to caress His massive chest. "We want You to come Home."

He shook at her touch, as beautiful as she was, it was cold and deathlike. His mind filled with the vision of a slavegirl, sitting on the mountain ledges looking Eastward, her bright green eyes and loving heart searching for just a glimpse of Him.

The woman leaned in and placed her lips against His cheek. "Come Home Questor, great rewards will be yours."

For just a second He leaned toward her, her eyes watching Him sure that the seduction of her and the offer of Power would convince Him. What actually happened was that He had freed the ropes on His wrists. His arms came around with lightning speed ... grabbed her by the throat and held her high off the ground ... the wings which no longer worked flailed at the air for a split second and then her eyes shone bright white and she reached for Him.

He threw her; she crashed through a window and disappeared into the night. She fell through the darkness screeching like a harpy and crashed into the tree under the Hold window. It broke her fall and left her wounded and furious on the ground.

He looked around for something to remove the shackles and noticed a chest at the end of a long table, as He opened it; He heard the Bowie and the Sword sing their song of Death. A grim smile came over His lips; the sword spun high in the air and sliced through the chains in a single cut.

It was time to leave ..................

The Questor moved quickly, the Bowie sliding into its customary place between His shoulder blades like magic... the sword seemingly an extension of His body. He shook His head, something about the sword that He didn't understand was the familiarity He had with it. He'd found it just a couple of days ago with the body of a fallen Knight. Well, this was not the time to figure it out. There were foes here, He had no idea how many or even how to get out of the hold.

For a brief second He considered using the window He'd thrown the bitch through earlier. He remembered something though that made Him stop and turn back to the door. There was something He had to take care of.

He came through the door into the hall fast and low, His body muscled and agile as one of the Tiger Clan that guarded His Dale. He saw the two who had dragged Him into the woman's quarters immediately and moved directly at them. 

The first made a mistake that cost him his life immediately. He moved toward the Questor challengingly raising his sword only to find his arm had somehow disappeared along with his weapon. As he stared in horror at his life blood pumping from his severed arm the back stroke ended his suffering slicing the top of his skull completely off.

The other one ran, the Bowie leaped from its sheath on the Questor's back and He threw it, hamstringing the second guard. All of this had occurred in a startling quick time, and by the time the second guard hit the floor at the top of the stairs the Questor was on him. The Bowie quivered next to the guard on the floor and leaped unbidden back to the Questor's hand; He quickly sheathed it and grabbing the guard up, slammed him up against the wall.

The Questor's blue orbs of steel revealed His blazing intensity as He stared directly into the guard's face. "How many of you are there and how do I get back to the cell you took Me from?"

The guard whimpered and wet himself, he knew that he would die this day by the Questor's sword but he held onto the slightest glimmer of hope. There are only 3 others Master Questor, the main body has not yet arrived."

The Questor nodded, "The cell man, take Me to the cell!"


Ruination



The guard stumbled and dragged his crippled foot behind him as he began the journey into the depths of the Hold, as they passed the main hall the Questor noticed its location. A large room, big fireplace, pots for cooking, and barracks off to the side. This building would be a thorn in His side in the troubles to come.

He continued down the stairs behind the guard, as they rounded a passageway a large troll stepped forward with an iron mace and swung. The Questor pushed the wounded guard into the path of the blow, crushing his skull in the process and quickly gutted the dungeon troll.

He raced down the passageway, and finally found the door to the cell where He had been kept. As He swung the door open, that same weary, strange voice said, "Somehow I knew You would be back Questor."

As the Questor raised the sword to free the creature, it spoke again. "Questor, I wish to be set free, but not from these chains."

The Questor's eyes went wide and then narrowed again at the statement. He knew what the creature was asking, and as much as He loathed slaying one who had helped Him, He knew it was the right thing to do. The sword continued its swing and dispatched the creature to whatever afterlife it would find. The Questor lowered His head for a moment at the creature's courage, praying for its soul, if it had one left.

He turned and raced back up the steps. As He burst into the main hall, He saw the other two soldiers. One was obviously a were-creature of some sort already deep into its change. The other was a reptilian appearing creature with bright eyes and quick moves, its eyes disconcerting to gaze into. Between them they supported the badly damaged woman He had already dealt with.

She screamed when she saw Him, a loud earsplitting scream that shook the massive timbers of the Hold. "Kill Him, kill that bastard you fools!"

The two separated to opposite sides of the hall and moved slowly and deliberately towards the Questor. A grim smile filled His face, this was more like it. Perhaps there were some worthy opponents to feed His blades with.

The were-creature, some sort of lupine, bat-looking creature with large jagged teeth and a low center of gravity moved first. It was alarmingly fast, damn near as fast as the Questor Himself! It came low and at a full charge, catching Him by surprise with its speed and seeming lack of concern for its own life. The Questor was bowled over and managed to keep the beast's teeth from His throat only by moving one of the large wooden chairs between Him and the beast. As it was, the jaws of the creature tore through the hard wood legs and drew back to snap at Him again. It was all the time the Questor needed. In one move He leaped atop the table and as the beast swept by beneath Him, He leaped down with the blade straight angled into the base of the creature's skull. The weight of the beast knocked the table over as it crashed to its death and the Questor turned quickly to the other creature.

It had disappeared; the Questor looked around and noticed the woman staring at Him, not moving just watching. He looked under the table and to the left and right; it could not have had more than a second to hide but the weight of the creature dropping on Him from the timbers above almost knocked Him to the floor. The snake beast's arms wrapping around His throat, the legs encircling His waist and the sudden constriction told Him exactly what He was dealing with now. Somehow He must keep the fangs from His neck; a single bite would drop Him dead to the ground within a second.

He lunged backward fast and hard slamming the beast into the wall, the impact causing the creature to relax its grip. He reached back and yanked the beast by the neck over His powerful shoulders and slammed Him down onto the shattered table. The Bowie sang and launched into His hand and He buried the blade deep in the face of the beast. It snarled and then the blood filled its throat and nose and all the life left its eyes.

The Questor looked down at the beast, these were creatures of the Ruination, there was no doubt of it. They could not have come from anything natural. He yanked the blade from the creature's face and looked for the woman, half expecting her to be standing there with that smile on her face, but she was gone.

The Questor looked around at the Hold then moving quickly He piled all the wood furniture against one of the support walls. He drew a length of wood from the fireplace and lit the pile, watching as it roared to life.

He turned and ran for the door. He was going to need help, He must find allies.

She had retreated into a secret passageway that took her out of the back of the Hold to the East; she would need more fighters to take on the Questor. The Ruination would not be pleased, she sighed ... it would be painful and soul-shattering to let It work the anger out on her.

The Questor looked around at the Hold then moving quickly He piled all the wood furniture against one of the support walls. He drew a length of wood from the fireplace and lit the pile, watching as it roared to life. He ran out the Main Gate headed to the West and His girl and His home. He'd be back of that He was certain.

She turned back and saw the Hold on fire; this was getting worse by the moment. She turned and ran for the woods. She was going to need help, she must find allies.

It was time to head for hell ..................

The return to the valley was relatively uneventful. The Questor was armed now with the knowledge of who and what was causing the Darkness to the East. He was also armed with a sword that somehow connected to the Bowie He had always carried. As He moved quickly through the jungle and low mountain passes He found plenty of opportunity to test His familiarity with the sword. Each time He used it, it seemed to become more an extension of Him, and it sang its magical song each time He drew it for practice. The sword was bloodthirsty; He knew this as He knew that the news the woman had given Him of His prior connection to the Ruination were true. He'd carried this sword before and it had drunk its fill in His capable hands.

On the fifth day of His travels Home He saw the Eagles. They were hunting something on the jungle floor and repeatedly dove and then returned high in the heavens only to plummet earthward again and again. Watching them He moved toward whatever they were attacking and ran across a disturbing sight. Two of the Eagles had been snared and slain, their feathers stripped from their flesh, the change upon them when they were dispatched to their God. Semi-Human and avian features alike lay bloodied on the jungle floor and the Questor growled savagely at the sight of His personal guard and friends slain in a manner befitting only a vulture.

As He neared the scene of the present melee, He heard the sound of wolves, what were wolves doing this close to the valley? Usually the presence of the Eagles and the wanderings of the Tiger Clan kept them away, but there was something different about the way these wolves sounded.

As He came into the clearing, He saw Eagles diving, talons raking, beaks snapping, eyes glowing with hatred on two large ... Werewolves? There hadn't been a werewolf in the Mountains in 20 years. Large vicious Man shaped lupe garou that wore amour and carried weapons, these were Monsters that could create major havoc if allowed to get closer to the Valley. Even odder was the dark sorceress who seemed to be controlling them. She wore leashes on her belt, her skin was dark and dusky, eyes piercing and she carried herself in a way that He found familiar. He realized that she was like Him, a woman twisted and reformed for the purpose of the Ruination. A killer, created for nothing less than the destruction of any and all of the enemies of that dark Evil. She would be a dangerous opponent.

The major problem with the were-wolves of course was slaying them. Silver was required, and the claws and beaks of the Eagles only enraged them further. Though they bled profusely from the cuts and bites they healed quickly and pressed on. The woman watched and from time to time pulled an arrow feathered with golden feathers from the dead Eagles He had seen previously, burying them in the attacking Eagles. Several were down and many had retreated to try to figure out the proper way to attack them.

Suddenly a massive shadow fell over the clearing, a clear scream from an Eagles throat erupted and all hell broke loose. It was Raj, the leader of the guard, the Prince of the Eagles. He'd seen were-wolves before and He was ready. The Questor noticed the silver tipped gauntlet on His taloned feet. With a grim smile He launched Himself into the clearing and caught the attention of the three. The first were-wolf died without knowing what hit him. Raj's attack from behind with His silver talons tore its head almost completely off and the were-wolf dropped immediately. The second were-wolf turned to the attacker. An eerie howl filled the twilight as darkness started to fall, the woman drew back an arrow and aimed at Raj.

The Bowie sang as it flew, knocking the bow out of the woman's hands, the arrow launching ineffectively even as Raj crashed into the other were-wolf. This one was better prepared and grabbed the Eagles claws keeping the tips from his flesh as they rolled over and over through the dust.

The Questor attacked the woman, the sword leaping into His hand, the Bowie flying back to Him as usual unbidden and finding its way into His other hand and then the sheath. The bitch was as fast as He, her sword, a razor sharp cutlass appearing as if by magic in her hand and threw herself at Him. They met in the center of the clearing in a mighty clash, sparks flying from the clash of steel on steel. Muscles straining, reflexes lightning fast preventing the other from a killing stroke they began a dance of steel, weaving a pattern of light with the swords, slash, parry, stab, block again and again.

Raj wound up on top of the were-wolf somehow, His beak finding the wolf's eyes and tearing them from His face. Before they could heal He brought His talons up under Him and gutted the wolf. It died with the Eagle pinning it down and tearing madly at its corpse.

The Questor was having a harder time of it. This bitch was good, as fast as He, smaller and more agile, she was actually laughing as He fought her with a maddened look on His face and His dark blue eyes flashing in anger. Finally, He stepped back ... she smiled at Him and performed a small sword salute, mocking though it was. As He whipped the Bowie from it's sheath on His back and threw it she howled in delight and easily dodged it. It flew 20 feet past her and stuck lightly in the bole of an old banyan tree.

Once again they closed, the swords flashing ... the grim smile on His face, the delighted look in her eyes as she spun and twisted and parried every move He made. She never saw the Bowie release itself and return to the Questor. He watched the blade as it flew towards Him and at the last second turned her into the path of it. 

Her eyes went wide and she gasped as it buried deep in her back, singing as it drank her blood. She growled at Him, "Questor You will die", and departed this plane without another sound.

In the meantime Raj had lifted the body of the were-wolf high into the air and dropped it to crash on the edges of the cliffs leading back to the valley, a warning to any who came by that invaders would be dealt with brutally and quickly. He lit next to the Questor, and began the change to Man. Soon the tall blonde Man with the aquiline gold eyes was looking at His friend and Lord. It's good to have you home Questor. Your girl has been beating the monks half to death in the combat training from worry over you. They both laughed and turned back to the way home.

There were allies to call and preparations to make..............

The Questor returned to the Palace. There was much yelling and welcome homes, Friends and monks and slave alike were full of questions. He spoke quickly with the Head Monk about the training and the troubles to come. His gear was carried to His rooms.

He listened to reports of state in a very distracted manner, noticeable to A/all. Finally His advisors realized that this was not the time for these questions, they would have to wait. As they left the Questor grinned and looked to the stairs leading into the upper levels.

He ran up the stairs into the Palace quarters and flew down the halls. As He burst into His rooms He saw her. His girl coiled on the floor with His battle armour, tears in her eyes. Her fingers traced the dents on His breastplate and she realized that He might not have come home if He were a lesser Man.

Her beauty as always stopped Him in His tracks. He watched her bent over His armour, tears dropping softly stroking the scratches from the sword's impact and polishing the metal with her silks. Her eyes were drawn to the sword, she'd never seen it before but she recognized the design as being sister to the Bowie. Her fingers traced the long blade and she winced as she saw the blood gathered by the haft. Her head bent over her cleaning of His armour she never heard Him enter the room.

He sat in His chair and watched her, breathlessly taking in every move she made. Her body was that of a highly trained dancer and it had served her well as a warrior too. Her breasts were flawless, her hips wide and sensual, her legs long and muscled and her face was a glory set in the midst of a wild obsidian mane. Finally, her eyes ... her eyes were a blinding hazel with a flash of flame lurking in them that made people stop and stare. She was fireinnereyes, and she was His. When Raj joked of her beating on the monks He had not been kidding. She trained endlessly with the Questor when They were together and would be His number one choice to have at His back in a real battle.

Finally He growled ... a low rumbly sound. Her head came up, her eyes wide and she spun towards the sound. The sword in her hands traveling on the same arc until she saw it was Him. She laid the sword gently down and crawled across the floor to His feet. Her lips met the top of His foot and she whispered "thank You for coming Home Master."

He smiled down at her and patted His lap. Slowly, tantalizingly, sensuously she slithered up His legs, her firm body, erect nipples and full breasts sliding against Him. Then her nether region warm, already dewy and hungry for Him slipped against His shin and thigh till she positioned herself on His lap and looked up into His eyes with a dazzling smile. "welcome Home Master!"

His whole body relaxed. The days of tension and dread slipped from Him in a heartbeat. Grateful for the surcease even if it was only for a moment or two in the grand scheme, He wrapped His arms around her and pulled her against His powerful warrior body. The smell of her hair filled His nostrils and His eyes closed in peace as it brought memories to Him of the Dale and washing in the waterfall. The next time He saw the Dale would be on a different mission and not one He was looking forward to.

She also filled her senses with Him, His maleness permeating her nostrils, His hard body against hers causing joy and shivers at the same time. She was so grateful to have Him home, but the nearness was creating a hunger in her that she couldn't deny.

His lips met hers in a kiss that was timeless, Their souls fusing in that perfect connection that They had. It lingered on, time virtually stopping for Them until they separated and gazed deep into each O/others eyes. He lifted her then, carrying her to the furs on the bed and laid her gently down. He watched her stretch her nude form out on the bed, her eyes taking Him in and caressing Him as He lifted the doeskins from His body.

She moaned as He bared His upper torso, wide shoulders leading into powerful arms. His massive chest hard and bare, scarred here and there with various slash marks and a deep long scar where He had taken a spear or some other large bladed weapon once. His waist was not as trim as a youngster, but hard and muscled from hours of sword play and sparring.

She bit her lip and whimpered as His trousers slipped from His hips and fell to the floor at His feet. His cock hard and full, purple head throbbing and slickened already. Without thought she slid her hand between her legs and stroked her pussy wantonly, spreading the lips so He could see the pink wet flesh that called to Him.

He wasted no time, He'd been gone long, His need was great and His girl was crying for His attention. He fell on her like a wild beast and with a single thrust drove into her heat. He groaned at the sensation of wet velvet against His sensitive flesh and she lifted to Him even as she let loose her air in a single gasp.

He rode her hard; this was no time for gentleness or sweet play. He was starved, she was weeping with ecstasy and Their bodies crashed together like a tidal wave on an island shore. He pounded deep into her; she in turn met His every thrust with an intensity that lifted Them both quickly to the inevitable.

His teeth found her throat, closing on her windpipe and as she fought for air He growled savagely, "NOW slut, NOW for Master!" The orgasm ripped through both of Them, bodies thrashing in that timeless union, that shattering moment when every fiber of Their beings melded into One.

Eventually, Their minds cleared ... Their breathing calmed. They fell into each O/others arms and slept deeply for the first time in days. They both dreamt of a quiet day in the Dale, laughing and playing in the pool and then retreating to the cavern behind the falls to make love.

All too soon there was a pounding on the door. The Questor rose and sighed; fire slithered out of the bed and back to His armor to prepare it. He opened the door and there was a young monk standing fearfully and stammering, "T-t-the C-c-council waits Master Questor." The Questor smiled at the young man, raising His hand and laying it on his shoulder. "I'm coming son; let them know that I have dire news and fearsome tidings."

The monk turned and fled down the corridor, blushing with pride that the Questor had noticed him. Tantrick turned to His girl and smiled, taking the Sword and Bowie and sliding them on He gave her a quick kiss and headed for the Great Hall.

"It has begun!"............

The Questor walked into the Council Room, all eyes turning toward Him. Grim looks appeared on the assembled's faces as they listened to the story of His last two weeks. Occasionally loud roars of anger filled the room, "the treatment of the Questor was inexcusable!", "the news of were-wolves was a challenge to free Men everywhere!" and most disturbing of all was the story of the woman who had been an Eagle, "one of our very own!" before being subjugated and mutated into whatever it was that she had become.


All the noise and yelling served no purpose as far as the Questor and His major advisors could see. Most of it was bravado and posturing, like any court there were always sycophants that flowed whichever way the wind blew and even in a Palace of heroes, there were hanger-ons and posers that would agree with anything to your face, while grumbling behind your back with anyone who would listen.

The Darkness was getting closer, there was no question that the Ruination's army was on the move and was headed for the valley. Some action needed to be made and plans needed to be adhered to.

Finally the Questor rose in the midst of the noise and raised a hand ... the noise died to a murmur and then ceased altogether when He looked around the room with His sweeping blue eyes. All knew what those eyes meant, the Questor was aroused in some fashion, there was danger in the air and His whole mien changed at times like these.

"I need Men, I need Eagles, I need allies that are willing to throw themselves on the swords and spears of the Ruination. I need fighters who will not back down in fear or horror when they see their friends torn in half by the teeth and claws of the creatures We will face. Who will stand beside Me?"




Ruination



The first to move He had known was with Him and counted on His prompt alliance. Raj stepped forward before any could move and dropped to a kneel in front of the Questor. My Lord, You didn't have to ask, I am with You always." He turned to His cadre, raising an eyebrow in the fashion of the Questor.

Almost as one the leaders of the Eagles moved next to Raj their Prince, dropping into a kneel beside Him they each pledged their lives, their talons and their wills to the Questor.

As the Questor smiled at these warriors who defended the heights of the Valley so well, the young monk who had brought Him the summons to the meeting moved forward and threw himself at the Questor's feet. "My liege, I wish to join You and these brave Eagles in whatever comes. The Questor silently noticed that the monk had lost that stammer and had a look in his eyes that belied his tender years. This would be a good lad in a fight. He hoped He wouldn't die too soon.

One by one each of the upper monks moved forward and bowed, we are always at Your behest Questor, You are the Master and the Chosen, simply speak and We will be there.

Finally, there was a noise at the back of the room. A sharp gasp reached the Questor's ears and He looked up. She was here ... fireinnereyes was dressed for war, her bow on her back, her sword and cane close at hand, none of the silks of a pleasure slave, this was a warrior princess, trained and honed by the Questor's own hands. "I'm coming My Master!" she said quietly and without question.

He stared at her for a minute, pride filling His eyes ... love gracing His heart and soul, and then He replied. "You are not girl." Before she could protest, He simply stated, you will protect O/our home, the valley and the Palace, this is your charge. We will be marching to meet the Monster and there may be trouble here while We are gone."

A soft tear fell from her eye, but she was a good girl. "Yes Master, I shall obey of course ... but you must make Me a promise."

"What is it girl?" the Questor replied?

Her head bent, her voice quavered, and then she said in a sweet clear voice that wrenched the heart of every Man in the room, "Come Home." With that she turned and walked back to T/their quarters and cried.

They planned strategy late into the night, until the sun started to rise over the Eastern Mountains. This morning the sunrise was a sickly color, the Darkness twisting the light and making strange shadows everywhere. They would leave in two days; the Questor had one more card to play before they departed.

In a dark circle deep in the jungle a black cloud issued forth, strange sounds were heard, nearby trees died. When the cloud began to clear there was a strange gate. Dark, menacing and evil it sang a song of hatred and destruction.

Ruination was coming .....................

The Questor rode out as the sun tried to rise over the mountains. The sickly colors of the clouds did not bode well. An unease had settled over all in the valley and erstwhile friends were snapping at each other this morning. Slavegirls cried as their Masters prepared their weapons for war, monks were even more silent than normal and the fear in the eyes of the valley people was palpable.

The Questor leaned over the neck of His great black Stallion Dragonbinder. Born and bred in the High Himalayas he had the chest of a bull, the stamina of a giant, and the ferocious nature of the Tiger. No Man had ever ridden Dragonbinder, he simply deigned to carry the Questor, yet there was a bond and a love like no Man or Horse has ever had for another.

"It's time to visit the Dale old friend", the Questor said into His ear. "Hopefully it will not be the last time."

They blazed down the hills and through the deep dark jungle surrounding the holy place of the Questor. Neither of Them noticed the Eagle soaring overhead until they reached the Dale and the Questor threw Himself off Dragonbinder to face the woods.

He looked into the dark trees and saw the eyes of the Tiger Clan guards peering back at Him. As He stepped forward to greet them the wings of the Eagle flapped and the golden bird landed next to Him. A brief moment later Raj stood by His Liege and Friend. A roar erupted from the jungle as one of the Tigers trained to protect the Dale rushed forward at the sight of the stranger. As he raced close the Questor raised His hand and stopped the Tiger in its tracks.

The Tiger paced back and forth nervously watching the Eagle until the Questor gestured it closer. As the Tiger moved next to the Questor, He ran His hand over its massive head. Skritching behind its ears He knelt down and stared into its eyes. The Tiger gazed back and the Eagle noticed the similarity of the two great Warriors as they bonded. Finally, the Questor rose and pulled Raj next to the Tiger, holding Raj's arm out He allowed the Tiger to capture His scent. "This is one of Mine, He is My right arm and you will honor that bond Cat." The Tiger looked at the Eagle, smelling the feathers inside the skin and snuffed, and then the long rough tongue reached out and licked His hand. Raj smiled, Eagle and Tiger allies, what an unusual chain of events.

"I have need of your brethren Tiger, the ones who live deep in the jungle and have not sworn fealty to Me. I know this is much to ask, but there is a danger coming that will affect Us all."

The Tiger watched and listened, His green eyes glittering, a questioning look in the cock of his head.

"The Ruination is coming again Tiger, the death of many Men, Eagles and Tigers is upon Us, even more threatening is the death of the jungle and the emptiness of life that will bring. The Eagles are with Us, the monks are ready, and soldiers from the valley are already in training. There is need for the Sentinels of the Jungle, the Prince of Beasts that rules your clan must be convinced. My pet, take My message ... We march tomorrow, the Darkness lies to the East. We cannot wait, but hope that your clan will join Us before it is too late."

The Tiger turned and raced to the edge of the forest, looking back over his shoulder and then as was their way, slipping into the jungle unseen, unheard, and sped to the task at hand.

The Questor turned to the Eagle, "gather Your men My Friend, We leave tomorrow. Kiss your women goodbye, hug your little ones. The time for Heroes is upon Us. Many of Us will not return. Pray to your gods for victory and make love one last time."

Whereupon the Questor leaped back on the Stallion and rode back up the trail to the Palace. He stormed into the Main Hall .. "where is My girl!!"

Startled monks and Warriors turned to see the Questor, dressed for war, striding through the Palace eyes a blazing blue.

He found her looking out over a palace wall at the rising darkness in the East ... He quietly slid up behind her and wrapped His arms around her, His hands joining at her waist and pulling her back against His tall strong frame. A tear dropped from her eye onto His arm and with a little catch in His own voice He said, "turn now fire, look at Me."

The beauty of her took His breath, her eyes sliding slowly up from under sad lids to fix on His. He bent to kiss her softly then held her out at arms length. "My love, you asked for a promise in the Hall yesterday. This I swear, as long as there is breath and life in Me, I will find a way back to you."

She fixed her eyes on Him, "Master, you must ... I cannot bear to be without You. I am merely a little slavegirl whose life purpose is to please You."

"Girl, you will never be merely anything, you are My love, My life, My heart, My very soul. I as well cannot survive without you. Now, come .. We have one last night before I must go."

He lifted her gently into His arms and carried her into the solitude of Their quarters. Anyone listening that night would have heard soft sighs, sad tears, cries of delight and roars of pleasure till late into the morning.

As He rose to dress she slid out of the bed and embraced Him from behind. Her breasts flattened against His muscles. Her arms searching Him, memorizing every inch and then sliding down into His slacks to grab His manhood. He turned slowly back to her and bent, whispering in her ear, "I adore you girl, keep Our home safe. Defend it like the warrior queen you are. I shall return, this I swear."

He strode out the door to the gathering of Men and Eagles and monks in the courtyard without looking back, she dropped to her knees and wept for the ones who would die and prayed for the ones who would return damaged and soul shaken. Most of all she prayed for the return of her Master, the one Man in the entire world that could touch her soul.

The group in the courtyard mounted, they passed through the Palace gates and the war was set.

Deep in the woods, the Dark Gate glowed, strange forms issued silently from it. Small, large, misshapen, beautiful and grotesque alike, the creatures of the Ruination came forth, hungry for blood and souls and tears and fear.

Inside the Evil smiled and danced ............

The army of the Questor rode down out of the Palace onto the jungle floor, the Darkness was closer by the day and He feared that the Ruination was closer than He suspected. An impressive troop, the group left the Palace with high spirits, singing songs of war and victory. The leaders of the groups allowed them to enjoy themselves for now, no reason to share the fear that would soon be coursing through them at the hands of the Ruination.

The plan was to move through the jungle with a minimum of noise and disruption, difficult to do when you were leading over a thousand Men, most dressed in armor with swords clanking and armor creaking.

The Questor soon saw that the plan was not going to work, the noise of their approach warned the enemy so they could flee or even worse, set traps. Three horses, a Knight and two monks fell to various obstacles, both straightforward as traps and magical like flesh eating insects never seen in this part of the jungle. For the sake of expediency the Questor and His lead advisors decided to separate, continuing East where it was obvious the Enemy was massing, hoping to come upon them silently and with deadly intent.

The groups split into four, the Eagles because of their freedom and clear vision took to the skies, watching the Darkness and searching the canopy of the jungle for movements of troops. The soldiers and Knights of the Questor massed together, lances and swords ready, horses eager for combat moved through the jungle like a mass four times their size. The monks, trained in ancient ways of combat unseen by any not from the inner circle, traveled silent and ghostlike as they melted into the trees and crept forward almost invisibly.

Finally, the Questor, dismounted from Dragonbinder and stripped to His skins, Bowie and Sword He was the deadliest creature possible. His powerful, lithe frame moved like the Tigers, His eyes had the clarity of the Eagles, and the superior training of the monks only served to enhance gifts ceded to Him by the Ruination when He was captive and an experiment. He moved through the jungle, both on the ground and in the branches above like a flitting shadow ... looking and listening for the first sign of the enemy.

The soldiers found them first ... apparently the noise had attracted a small band of creatures wending their way Westward. They attacked quickly and savagely. Two rat women like creatures with savage teeth and broken jagged claws and a huge ape armed with an axe the size of a small tree. The rat women came in low and fast, gutting two horses and tearing at the throats of the Knights who tumbled beneath them. The ape was much less circumspect, driving through the ranks swinging the great axe to and fro, destroying armor and beheading or maiming the few who dared to stand in front of it. In a manner of moments ten Men were down, horses were bucking and rearing, soldiers were standing back to back trembling as the three beasts closed in on them.

The ape never saw it coming, Raj shooting down from what was left of the sun, talons full out, razor sharp tips covering them, His eyes a bright golden hue that lit up the clearing and gave hope to the ones who saw Him. His talons dug straight into the ape's eyes, His beak rending and tearing at the flesh between. The battle cry of the Eagle bringing others with Him until the air was full of the beating of wings, screams and rent flesh.

As His followers left and returned to the heights, Raj landed and transformed into a Man, tall, blonde, eyes still golden and walked among the wounded and dying. Speaking to them all as equals, holding the hand of one youngster who died looking into those magical orbs, and bringing hope and courage to the survivors. When He was sure that the troops could continue on, He transformed back and in the midst of the transformation leaped into the air, His head turning back and the change burning itself into the mind of all who watched. Truly it was a time for Heroes.

In the meantime, the monks scattered deeper into the forest, drawn by the Evil like magnets of opposite polarity and the Questor continued His hunt for the source.

Inside the Dark Gate the Ruination laughed and dressed for war. Soon the full darkness would be upon Them and His most fearsome creatures could roam at will.

There was blood on the ground today ...............

While the Questor was fighting His way back to the Palace and reuniting with fireinnereyes for a night of love before the War to come, Suha was dragging her feet on the way to meet with The Ruination.

Even as she found her way into the haunted area of the jungle the Dark Gate appeared. Her heart sank as she neared the portal; the air issuing from it was fetid and blotted out any thoughts. She knew as certain as the beat of her dark heart that The Ruination was waiting for her. There would be a report and then there would be consequences. They would be excruciating, both physically and mentally and the scars would remain on her soul forever.

For a few short seconds she flashed back to an earlier time. As an Eagle, she had been free to ride the mountain winds. She had made love in the air, had born a son above the valley of the Questors, life had been good.

Then the General of the Ruination had captured her and a number of the other Eagle women, taking them to His Master. She would never forget the blank look on the Questor's face as The Ruination changed her and twisted her and maligned her very being, then slaughtered her sisters before her eyes. The other day she had seen something in His eyes that had shaken her to her core. The Questor was whole. He had redeemed Himself somehow and was at peace with the Monster He had been.

She thought again of that young Eagle she had given birth to all those years before. What had He grown to be, was He a good Man? Sighing, she stepped through the dark Gate and gathered her nerve. She would never know she suspected, and now it was time to answer to the Ruination.

The Darkness enveloped her as she passed into Its realm. The cold of Its evil seeping through to her bones and her heart. She stood still in the midst of a dark space and listened, then heard the slithering dank sound as It took form and approached her. A hissing, sibilant voice this time (It could sound like anything) said, "The Questor, tell Me how did He die?"

She could tell by Its voice that it knew everything, and her head bowed in fear. "My Lord, He was alive when last I saw Him. He killed all my men and burned down the Hold."

She couldn't tell what the sound was that The Ruination made a chuckle, a hiss, a growl? She knew however that It was not amused. The Questor had driven It back into the dark abyss that it came from the last time and almost slain It. Even more than she, The Ruination feared and hated The Questor.

Her dread was complete when she felt cold hands grab her and lift her off the ground. The Beast was hungry, she could sense it. It knew that nothing was more vile to her than Its touch and to be forced to have sex with It.

It drew her to It and she suddenly saw the shape it had taken, appropriate ... The Serpent. Its reptilian face close to hers, the tongue of the Beast licking up the side of her face felt like acid against her skin. They lifted off the ground together and as the Beast entered her she wept for the first time since she had been changed. For some reason that look in The Questor's eyes flashed before her and she growled with envy, to be whole, to be complete again, she would give anything.

The Beast took her growl as pleasure and grinned evilly as It used her body for Its pleasure. Piercing her again and again with Its vile tool it finally spit Its foul seed into her and dropped her to the ground in a heap.

Drifting away it spoke over Its shoulder, "don't disappoint Me again Suha, I want The Questor ... Dead!"

She lay on the floor and wept and finally sleeping dreamt of the sky and the winds and a young Eagle learning to fly.

When she arose, she called for the Blue Warrior ...

The monks were silent wraiths, able to move through the jungle, over the mountains even through the open without being seen. Trained from childhood in the fine arts of kung-fu and Chinese magic, they were individually fearsome forces to contend with. In a group they had never been defeated. Few could hold their own against a mature Questor monk; fewer still were those who talked about it after the fact.

The jungle was oddly silent when the small band of six monks passed through the clearing and into the jungle on the other side. Their senses told them that something was amiss, but none of them could pinpoint the danger and they put it aside as nerves. This was understandable under the conditions, the Ruination was every man's nightmare wrapped into one and some of them remembered the previous war. It had cost them many lives and many years of training new monks to regain the strength of the brotherhood to its present level. Many monks had disappeared during the last great battle, their bodies missing, their families still seeking answers. Thoughts of what might have happened to them were enough to send a shudder through the strongest, it would be better to die than to be taken by the Ruination.

The day was turning nice, strange when the sky was still so dark... but the temperature was comfortable under the leaves and a small stream running by provided cool fresh water.

The leader of the small troop stopped them and told them to take a break, observing of course protocol of security to make sure they weren't taken by surprise. It had been a long difficult trip so far and several of the monks rested in the roots of the large banyans surrounding the stream. Two monks, the leader of the troop and the young man who had brought the news of the council to the Questor watched the woods and listened for anything out of the ordinary.

With their eyes and ears trained on the forest, neither of them noticed the figure that rose from the stream, seemingly from the water coalescing until it stood on the shore and watched them boldly.

The youth noticed him first and shouted to the leader. The monks who had drunk from the water and were laying in the roots of the trees lay there as if drugged, aware of what was happening but unable to move.

The blue clad warrior stepped forward and in a low voice stated simply, "you should not have come monks, you'd be better off in the temple playing with candles and scrolls."

Then he attacked. His speed and moves were blinding, obviously trained by monks but with speed that no one but the Questor Himself could match and a strength that was terrifying. As he engaged the leader, his hands flew out in a double strike move that literally threw the monk 20 ft back to crash into a tree. By the time the monk recovered from the blow and had lifted himself to his feet the warrior was on him, a sweep kick taking him back down and a stomp to his skull leaving him quite dead.




Ruination



The youth in the meantime had lifted his bow and unleashed an arrow straight into the back of the warrior, as it flew through the air it appeared it would quickly pierce the warriors heart from behind, but a back flip and a sidestep left the arrow quivering in the tree behind him. "Nice shot boy," said the mysterious warrior, "but you missed!"

As the lad drew back on the bow for a second shot the warrior moved, he literally danced toward the boy, to one side then the other, feet crossing, hands waving, head bobbing he completely distracted the boy and before he could finish stringing his bow, the warrior had it in his hands.

The boy stepped back into a defensive stance and prepared for hand to hand combat, the warrior snorted and with a simple underhand snap of his wrist, buried the arrow in the left eye of the lad. He died before he hit the ground.

The warrior looked around quickly, then removed the mask on his face, as he approached one of the remaining monks lying in the roots of the tree his hands began to glow. The monk saw his face in the last second and cried out in fear. The warrior was the previous captain of the guards of the monks, his visage twisted and primal, eyes gone dead, but recognizable still the same. He'd disappeared during the last battle of the previous war and his remains had never been found. Now he was a monstrous creature of the Ruination.

His hands glowing the warrior raised them over each of the monks in turn, their bodies seemingly melting into the ground in the roots of the trees until no trace of them remained. As he stepped away from the scene, a woman joined him from out of the forest. Wounded and angry, she was still beautiful and deadly, the winged woman of the Hold joined the warrior and they continued together to the East. They would soon find the Dark Gate and let the Beast Himself through.

To the north the Questor paused for a second, as the youth had died the Questor had felt a pang shoot through Him. He knew that something precious had been lost to the Ruination. His head lowered for a moment in prayer and then He too resumed His quest for the portal of the damned.

High above the Eagles soared, missing the action under the canopy of the jungle but noticing large shapes moving from the West quickly through the jungle like white mountains of muscle. Raj smiled, He knew He would soon be seeing the Tiger Clan again.

In the Palace a slavegirl danced a dance of war ...

Suha had watched the entire battle between the monks and the Blue Warrior, her eyes avidly soaking in the death of each and every one of the pesky monks. Even when she had been an Eagle she had been irritated by the power they wielded over the valley. After all, they couldn't even fly.

She had never really considered as a young woman of the Eagles that the monks were the reason that the people lived in the valley, that the faith and hope they brought to the people enriched their souls. Nor had she ever cared.

She had been a selfish girl who lived only for flying, until one day she was drawn to a young Man Eagle who had grounded her and filled her with a joy she felt only when flying. When her son was born she thought she would burst with happiness and watching and rearing Him through His first 5 years had made her complete within herself. His laughter, His simple love for everything ... even the monks and the people of the valley had filled her with awe and opened her heart to much more.

When the Ruination came the first time her Man had flown off to war. She had stayed behind with many of the other women and raised and protected the children. She also served as a look out in case the enemy got too close. One day, while playing with the children and the other women near the river the General of the Ruination had found them. He had taken the women and left the children to fend for themselves. When He took the women to the Ruination as hostages, that Monster had changed Suha and killed the rest in front of Them all.

Suha didn't know it but that was the day the General began to change, He had been a Man himself before the Ruination had killed His band of Knights and changed Him to a Slayer. The slaughter sickened Him, it seemed as if it never stopped and as if He had been fighting His whole life. Seeing the Ruination strip the woman of her power of flight had rent at heartstrings He had thought long dead and He suddenly aspired to freedom.

She shook her head; these thoughts pouring unbidden into her mind would deter her from her duties as the Executioner of the Ruination. She looked to the Blue Warrior and nodded, it was time to hunt the Questor.

They were several miles away when they heard the scream. An enraged Eagle ... obviously had come upon the dead monks. The Blue Warrior smiled and fingered His darts. They were tipped with a poison so deadly that just a prick from them would slay the strongest Man. Grimly they continued on, there had been a rumor that the Questor was moving East through the darkest shadows of the jungles looking for the portal. She must find Him before He found the Ruination.

Intent on their chase, neither of them heard nor saw the Eagle sweep down and land in front of her in the trail. The Warrior as was his way had slipped unnoticed into the surrounding bushes and watched curiously as the Eagle changed in front of the woman.


Soon, Raj stood looking at this strange woman. She had the wings of an eagle, yet disturbingly useless. She had the mien of one who had flown the heights, yet seemed oddly diminished and enslaved. His head cocked in the questioning look of the birds He inspected her carefully.

Damn, she seemed so familiar. He was sure that He'd seen that face before, filled with love not hate, her eyes that cold white had been vivid green and sparkled like emeralds when the sun hit them. Those hands had touched Him, caressed Him and held Him to her ... suddenly His eyes snapped wide open. It couldn't be, she must be dead ... it had been more than 20 years but He knew ... His mouth twisted into a grimace and He groaned, "Mother?"

The woman looked at Him as if He were mad. Mother? She laughed out loud at the thought, an evil sounding laugh yet with the tinkle of bells in the back of it. Mother, she was not Mother to this Man, she had never seen an Eagle so large, one so strong, His reddish, blonde hair swept over His shoulders and His aquiline eyes fixed on her dead white orbs. Still ... there was something about Him.

A name came into her mind, a picture of her holding a small fledgling, her Mate next to her, "what shall We name Him Suha?" She had thought and thought and finally the name came unbidden to her lips. "Raj ... He will be Raj."

As the thought went through her head the name passed her lips, "Raj!" 

The Eagle staggered as if she had stabbed Him, it was her. He knew it, she had become a Monster of the Ruination but she was still beautiful and strong. He stepped back ... "Mother, what are you?"

Furious at His movement away from her, the woman growled, "I am the Executioner ... I am the Death ... I am the Sword of the Ruination come to destroy your valley."

Raj began the change; He must get out of here. This was news that had to be passed on, the dead monks, the reappearance of the woman who must be His Mother. He didn't see the Blue Warrior step out behind Suha.

She felt it, she knew that the Blue Warrior would place a dart in the body of the Eagle and there would be no witness to the acts that had transpired. She watched the Man become a magnificent Eagle and prepare to soar away. Her heart tore open at His beauty, she knew ... this was her son ... He was the one good thing she had left the world to date.

As the Eagle started to climb the Blue Warrior stepped out and aimed the dart ... Then something totally unexpected happened. Her wings, so useless and tortured suddenly burst out from her sides... they filled with air and she launched herself into the air with a mighty spring.

Raj looked back at the woman as He heard her scream ... a terrible, painful sound. His eyes widened as He saw her lift off the ground, the wings somehow beating and carrying her into the path of ... He watched as a dart from the Blue Warrior flew into her back. She flew a few feet higher, arms reaching out to Him ... "Raj, fly, warn them, The Monster comes, He plans to kill all."

Raj caught her in the air, the heat of His anger filling His muscles and sinews and dropped her into soft undergrowth. He swept at the Blue Warrior in a blaze of speed while the Warrior drew another dart and loaded it ... before the Warrior could raise it, the Eagles talons tore through His heart and crushed His throat. 

Raj's wings beat hard and He lifted the thrashing Blue Warrior thousands of feet into the air. Finally, He dropped the corpse and flew back to the woman.

She had very little strength left; He lifted her hand and smoothed it against His face as He made the change back to Man. His tears poured over her fingers and she smiled her last smile ... she whispered His name one more time, "Raj."

And so the Prince of Eagles lost His Mother again......

The Questor moved through the jungle quickly and efficiently. He was glad He had taken off on His own to try to find the Gate. It had been too long since He had hunted in the jungle and His reaction times and instincts needed goading. The smell of the fresh vegetation, the hum of insects, the call of birds all spoke to Him as He found Himself deeper and deeper in areas He hadn't ever been.

He stopped once and looked around. The jungle was different here. The trees not as bright, the undergrowth much heavier and the smell of death filled the air. He looked up at the canopy above Him and noticed that the light was dim and odd, as if there were to be no shadows thrown.

He noticed as well that the sounds of life around Him that He had become attuned to had ceased and that the only sound was the moaning of a dark wind blowing through the trees. No birds, insects, scurrying little beasts here, only the quiet of a jungle tomb and the sense of something watching.

He started to listen very carefully, moving slower now, His eyes searching every dark corner and each tree branch over the trail. There was something here, He knew it.

He stepped off the path, waiting, listening, watching. Then He heard it, through a small copse of bushes He heard a sound like something eating. His sword appeared in His hand and He slipped through into a... graveyard? What the hell was a graveyard doing out here?

He looked around and saw nothing but tombstones, ancient, grown over. Obviously something from years past. He heard the sound again and worked His was slowly to the area it issued from. Then He saw it.

A small gnome like creature, dining on meat it had dug up from a grave. Its eyes were narrow and vicious, meat hanging from its teeth and a long strand of drool dripping from its lip where it sucked and chewed on a bone.

It seemed unafraid, even as if it had been waiting for Him. He watched for a second, and then the retch began in His belly and He raised the sword to kill it.

"Questor," it hissed.

He lowered the sword, and looked at it, the bone now on the ground the creature watching Him carefully, legs drawn up under it, ready to spring at His slightest movement.

"What, monster? How do you know Me? What do you want?" He growled.

"My Master has sent Me to find You Questor, Your Master, The Ruination", it cackled at Him as it said the horrible words. "You know Your Master don't You Questor? You know the hate and darkness that still thrives in Your soul, which fills your thoughts at night when the stars and the moon are hidden? Did You think You could just walk away? That You could possibly be free as long as It lives? Are You a fool, Questor?"

A cold filled the Questor, His very soul chilling at the words. 

As the creature spoke its voice changed, becoming deeper and more hypnotic. The Questor never noticed the shadow falling on the graveyard, never saw the way the creature rose and became more Manlike, never realized that He was being summoned.

Not too far away, The Ruination watched and felt the confusion of the Questor through the eyes of the creature. The creature had once been a Lama, one of the holy Men who lived high in the mountains and capable of great feats of mental skill. He had subverted the Lama through visions of a Nirvana that didn't exist and sucked him into the vortex of evil that followed The Ruination. He was now using the abilities that the Lama had trained for years to acquire to seduce the Questor.

The Questor's mind filled with thoughts of conquest, dark scenes of bloodshed and destruction. The old madness enveloped His mind and in the graveyard His body tensed and changed, His face becoming darker somehow, twisted, teeth bared and a mad look in His blue orbs. He remembered. He remembered being the General, the Man who killed and tortured and destroyed for The Ruination until His skin ran red with the blood of others and His mind rebelled and did nothing but obey.

The creature was slowly moving toward Him, unnoticed ... it had ceased to be anything but a shadow across the panorama of horror that flooded the Questor's mind. A long arm snuck around behind it and it lifted a wicked looking double blade dagger out, the poison clear on the blade.

As the creature lunged at the Questor, two things happened. The Bowie and the Sword sang a song of bloodlust that brought Him quickly to His senses. Even faster, a blur of something enormous, white and powerful streaked past Him and the creature suddenly disappeared into a shower of raining flesh.

The Questor spun, Bowie and Sword in His hand, ready for this new threat. He was met by the piercing, yet tranquil gaze of the largest Tiger Clan member He had ever seen. He knew immediately that this was the Prince of Beasts and lowered His weapons.

A moment later, the two Warriors gazing at each Other, the rest of the Tiger Clan Warriors stepped into the graveyard. They looked at the corpse derisively, and circled the Questor. They had come at His behest. The giant Prince lowered Himself to the ground and coiled His tail around Him, looking to the Questor for the next move.

In the Dark Gate, The Ruination screamed, a long painful sound as Its mind was rejected by the death of the Lama creature. It had caught just a glimpse of the Tiger as it struck and for the first time in a very long time, It felt fear.

The Questor turned to the Tigers, thank you Brothers. We are headed towards the East, what waits Us I'm not certain, but with you by My side many things become possible.

At that moment the air above them filled with the sound of wings, the Eagles were here. Raj alit before the Questor and took a knee. We are ready My liege.

The Questor noticed a look on His face that He had not seen before. Tragedy, haunting hatred, and revenge were clearly etched in the young Warrior's face. That was a tale for another time.

The army was assembled ...............

The army moved forward through the jungle, The Questor traveled with two of the Tigers and Raj overhead. This small group moved very quickly, the Questor could feel danger close by and the Tigers were edgy as their keen senses picked up something that made their hair stand up.

Raj circled overhead and noticed a small set of ruins overgrown by weeds and almost hidden in the jungle. He doubled back to the Questor and signaled to Him to keep moving forward.

He lifted back up and His keen eyes swept the ruins, seeing nothing at first and then just as the Questor and the Tigers came into the area ... a bright flash of metal.

He flew low and lit in the path of the Questor and the Tigers coming drew His sword and waited.

A strange figure stepped from the ruins, a Wolf on two legs, wearing bright armor and carrying a huge cutlass. It growled low and slowly approached the Eagle. The battle began quickly, the Wolf fast and powerful, the Eagle lithe and agile. Time after time their swords met in mighty parries and slashes, neither one able to surpass the other. The Wolf however was fresh; it had not been in continuous battles for the past week and had just recently been sent hunting by The Ruination. "Another Slayer this one", thought Raj.

As the sun started to drop, the power of the Wolf increased and its speed became blinding. Raj's worst fear was coming true. This one was a werewolf, and not just any werewolf but one twisted and enhanced by the horror of The Ruination. It lived solely to kill as did any werewolf, but it had the reasoning power of a Man, and was able to control its blood lust and fight with intelligence instead of just power and brute killing strength.

The Questor and the Tigers burst into the clearing where the Eagle and Wolf fought. The Tigers roared in rage at the sight of the werewolf, their natural enemy come to life in human form and attacked. In that moment Raj shifted to the Eagle form, He would need the silver clad talons to harm this creature. As He lifted into the air the Wolf struck, its sword swinging in a wide arc and lopping off the left claw of the Eagle. It roared with delight as the Eagles talon dropped to the ground and the Eagle spun out of control, crashing into a tree. Raj's lifeless body slumped at the base of the banyan and His blood stained the jungle floor. The Tigers were taking turns attacking the Wolf, but the unnatural nature of the beast caused it to heal almost immediately even with the depth of the wounds caused by the Tigers' attack.

The Wolf slashed and spun and leapt and twirled and scored again and again on the Tigers. Their blood stained their pure white coats but they kept on, attacking from first one side then the other.

The Questor sped to Raj, lifting the young Warrior's head into His arms and looking into His eyes. Stay, Raj, it is not time for You to depart yet, there are too many battles yet to fight. He quickly tied a tourniquet on the leg of the Eagle, stemming the blood flow and drew Himself to His feet in a rage.

He lifted the Sword and the Bowie came unbidden to His hand. Leaping into the midst of the melee before Him the Questor attacked the Slayer Wolf of The Ruination. Two enhanced, magically endowed killers wove a net of steel that was blinding. The Tigers withdrew and watched entranced, waiting for an opening a break in the action. Back and forth and around the two antagonists battled, both supremely skilled. The Wolf scored, coming in low and then leaping into the air and slashing the Questor's sword arm causing the sword to fall from His stunned fingers.

The Questor dropped to grab the sword but instead found Raj's still leaking talon. With a grim smile He lifted it and shoved it into the face of the Wolf, burying the silver sheathes deep into its eyes and then scored the monster from its face to its neck. The Questor's arm moved once again as He swung the talon in a mighty blow and severed the Wolf's carotid.

As the Wolf fell to the ground twitching, the Tigers struck. Their claws and teeth reduced the beast to a sludge of quivering flesh. The blood of the Wolf staining their muzzles and their eyes full of glee at the slaughter.

The Questor ran back to Raj, the Warrior was alive but barely. He had lost much too much blood and the loss of His talon meant that He would no longer be a Warrior. The Questor beckoned to the Tigers and tying the Eagle on the back of one sent them both in search of the monks. They had great healing powers, perhaps they could save His life.

He watched the Tigers bound into the bush, the Eagle lifeless on one's back, then turned back to the East. He had no idea that The Ruination had discovered His one weakness but He felt a new sense of urgency. He must get to the Gate soon or Hell would dump its poison on His home.




Ruination



The Questor moved on alone ............

The Questor continued on to the East ... Tiger Clan roamed through the jungle just out of sight and Eagles flew overhead. They traveled for two days over hostile territory that was bereft of life except for the oppressive jungle and the incessant insects.

On the third day the Darkness had pretty much blocked the sun. What light there was seemed sickly and incapable of separating shadow from reality. On more than one occasion there were screams in the distance that sent monks and Tigers scurrying off, but no one was found.

The air was stagnant, the rotting vegetation filling the air, the water in these parts foul and undrinkable. They discovered this when a young monk bent to drink his fill before he could be warned. Within seconds he was thrashing on the ground, his eyes blank and his mind full of the horrors being transmitted almost constantly by The Ruination now.

The Questor knew they had to be close, but there would be more hurdles, more battles to fight before He would face the Monster.

That evening, the Darkness was so thick that to move in the jungle was useless, even for the cat-eyed Tigers. The Eagles found high ground and gathered together around a small fire that the group in the jungle could see faintly through the trees. The Tigers, monks and The Questor built another small fire and they established watches, then fell asleep into a fitful, moaning nightmare that all shared.

In the dream, The Ruination had won the war. The valley of the Questors was blighted, the people of the villages twisted and gnarled, reduced to cannibalism. On the heights the Palace lay blasted and ruined, no life at all in it, the walls black with fire and the ground unable to sustain even the weeds that normally appeared in rocks. A shadow sat in the Throne Room, a being like a Man, hooded, with blazing eyes and a voice that caused the ground to shake when It spoke.

If one dared climb close enough in the dream, they saw that the Monster had taken the visage of The Questor. Twisted and tortured though it was, the blue eyes flared out of a face rocked with agony and hatred. Many of them cried out in their sleep, their darkest fears were that the Questor would return to His service of The Ruination.

The Questor lurched awake, His hands flying to the Sword and Bowie. Sweat poured from His body, and He shook like a little girl in a thunderstorm. Feeling Himself, He breathed a sigh of relief. It was a dream, nothing but a dream.

All hell broke loose, screams shattered the air, heavy sounds of monks and Tigers being destroyed, their screams heart rending. The light was so poor that the Questor could virtually not see 20 feet ahead. On His right a huge foot came down, crushing the monk who had been caring for His armor. Right after that a hammer the size of a small horse slammed into the ground on the other side of Him, crushing a Tiger as it turned and raced for the jungle shelter.

The Questor yelled, "To Me, To Me", and the remaining men and Beasts ran to His side. Lightning filled the sky and a bolt set a nearby tree on fire. The enemy became visible. A giant troll, a full 40 feet high, armed to the teeth and intent on destroying every one of them had snuck into the camp in the darkness and slain fully half of the group gathered there. His hammer swung to and fro, ripping the heads off of monks, his massive feet squashing anything in its way, and the look in its eyes as usual with those of The Ruination dead and empty. It served one purpose, to kill .. And its task was to kill the Questor.

The hammer swung fast and deadly, but the Questor was faster. He ran towards the troll, His sword slashing and stabbing, leaving huge wounds on the legs and ankles of the creature. Back came the hammer, just catching His shoulder but knocking Him completely across the clearing and freeing the Sword from His grip in the process.

The Tigers roared and attacked, they fought in a pack like wolves. Dashing in raking the legs of the giant, biting its tendons, tearing huge chunks of flesh from it. The monster seemed not to notice, it was intent on one thing, the Questor.

Down came its foot, a collective cry of horror coming from the Questor's allies as the foot smashed right where He had been. The Questor had seen it coming, rolled into the bushes and was racing for the sword. He grabbed the sword and rolled in a somersault coming to His feet facing the troll coming back at Him.

The world paused for a second. The massive troll stomping toward the Questor. The Questor standing calmly, sword lifted, waiting. Then as the troll reached Him the Questor's eyes flashed with a light that filled the clearing and illuminated the next feat. A tree stump was between The two antagonists. The Questor set off at a dead run and launching Himself off the stump, buried the sword under the jaw of the giant. The blade, hungry for blood completed the job, it twisted severing the arteries and then planted itself deep in the spine of the troll.

The troll's hand came up and swept the Questor to the ground, then staggered forward 2 steps. Its eyes filled with understanding for the first time, and then it crashed straight down face first burying the Questor under it's corpse.

It took some time but the monks and Tigers dragged the body from off the Questor. He was unconscious but when water was splashed on His face He snapped to and raised the Bowie as if to continue the fight. The men laughed and the Tigers roared. High above the Eagles wondered at the noise, and continued their prayers for the life of their prince Raj. News had come that He was still alive when He reached the Palace. Now they could only hope those healers would save Him. His days as a warrior were certainly ended they agreed, but He was strong and could survive even with only one foot.

The men and Tigers returned to a fitful sleep. It was still a few hours before what little light would be available would show. A monk dragged the sword from the neck of the troll and cleaned it, sitting it next to the Questor.

The Questor put His back to a tree and watched the rest of the night......

The Ruination shook with rage; It has just been blasted from the mind of one of Its tools by the attack of the Tiger Prince. The Questor had been mesmerized, but that damn Bowie and Sword were in His hands in a flash. The Ruination ran Its hand over its face, the scar was there, long, red, bitterly painful. The Questor had lost the Sword in that last battle but the Bowie cut just as deep and the purity of the blade left The Ruination's flesh tattered and not able to regenerate properly. No matter what or whose face it wore, the scar was there, a constant reminder of the traitor.

The Tiger Clan was an even bigger shock. It had thought that they were aloof from the affairs of Men and Monsters, content to reign in the depths of the jungle. They were solitary Warriors for the most part; The Questor must have promised them something special to bring them together as a united front.

The Ruination had not really had time to explore the situation in the valley as It made Its return. It was unaware that the valley had been in peace and prosperous since the Questor had risen to power. It knew nothing at all of the slave girl fireinnereyes and her special place in the dynamics of the valley. She had become much beloved and was considered by the denizens of the valley to be queen.

Neither did He know that the Questor had struck a bargain with the Tiger Clan to protect the Dale, a place of great power and the secret passage to the Altar of the Tigers, the belly of the Mountain and the Palace itself. The Ruination wanted the Dale for Itself. The power of that place subverted would allow it to open the gates of hell and bring through atrocities and monsters, which roamed Its dark kingdom. If It could unleash them on the world, soon they would spread and multiply, the poison of their very beings twisting the lives of all the people of the Mountain and beyond.

It turned Its mind back to the task at hand. The Questor must be stopped. If He arrived at the Dark Gate too soon He may be able to close it before the Ruination Itself snuck through.

It called a bat. Bats were everywhere in the dark kingdom, and their loyalty was to the One who would bring constant Darkness to the world for them to roam at will. The Ruination spoke with the bat and sent it scurrying out into the night, it had far to fly before the sun started to rise again.

Through the dark night, the bat sped on silent wings, and finally landed on one of the platforms of the Palace of the Questors. Most people were asleep at that time, but in the Questor's quarters the candles burned bright and a form flashed back and forth. Watching through the eyes of the bat, The Ruination directed it under the eaves of the rampart and looked through the window.

It was a woman, a beautiful slave girl, clad in silks, and dancing an exotic dance with sword and cane in hand. The Ruination watched as the girl spun and lifted and dropped and stabbed and slashed with the weapons with a grace It had never seen. It thought to Itself, a woman like that, a warrior like that ... I could make her an Empress. It laughed an evil laugh, of course an Empress that would satisfy Its dark and vile hungers, but an Empress nonetheless.

The bat hung on the eave and The Ruination watched as the girl danced till she dropped. Her body in a heap on the floor, sobs racking her. This was the moment It should strike. When the girl was weak with sorrow, perhaps her Mate had been slain in a battle, or her Master had gone to war never to return.

The girl rose from her silken sprawl, laying the weapons aside for the moment and stripped for a bath. The Ruination was staggered by her beauty, It had never seen a woman so primal, so much like ... then It saw the brand on her hip. The bat quivered on the eaves with the violence of the emotion that ripped through The Ruination. She was The Questor's, that was His brand.

This information only made The Ruination hungrier for the girl's flesh. It must have her. To take something like this from the Questor would bring Him to His knees. The bat waited and watched, the girl finally finishing her bath and climbing into the furs on the platform, a solitary candle burning for her Master's safe return. She wept then, her mind filled with the memories of His strong arms around her. The hunger in His eyes when He looked at her, the passion in His touch when He used her, the joy in His being when she threw herself to the ground in front of Him and begged for Him to use her. She lived for the Questor, there could never be another.

Finally, her eyes drifted closed and with soft sobs she wandered into sleep. Her dreams were fitful, full of fear for the Questor, then pleasure as she dreamt of loving days at the Dale. Her breathing evened, her body relaxed and she fell into a deep sleep.

The bat crept close ..............................

The Ruination watched the girl sobbing and finally falling asleep, her arms wrapped around The Questor's pillow, holding it tight to her and falling into a light slumber where her dreams were full of Him and the danger He might be in.

She rolled over and over in the furs, The Ruination using the bat to take in every inch of her luscious body. It was mesmerized by her beauty, not in the way that you or I might be, but in a totally evil manner. Its head was full of thoughts of tortures and mind and soul warping things it could do to the girl, keeping her beauty intact but making her a cesspool of sick desire and hatred inside. It lived for challenges like this.

Finally the girl dropped into a deep sleep, hardly moving at all. The Ruination sent the bat softly gliding through the air to the platform of furs. Up close she was even more beautiful than He had dreamt. Her skin was flawless, her lips full and enticing, the curves of her face soft and inviting, her hair a glorious black mane spilling around her face in a perfect frame.

Oh to subvert that, to ruin it, to turn her into chattel ... disgraced, demolished, debased ... unworthy of her Master. Its mind reeled at the thought.

Summoning strange powers The Ruination pushed part of Its essence through the mind link into the bat, It breathed in her face ... a foul, reeking miasma redolent of corpses and long lingering molds. The breath filled her nostrils and raced through her system into her brain and body. Her dreams became dark and horrible, blood and death, war and suffering surrounded her and she saw The Questor carried back to the palace on a funeral bed. She sobbed, great heaving moans coming from her at the vision and The Ruination continued to feed the poison into her, a little more and she would despair. Then It would take over her mind and begin the warping of her, a fitting punishment for the Questor.

At that moment, The Ruination noticed that the Questor had come upon the Lama in the graveyard. It watched the girl for a second and then turned Its attention to the traitor that had almost slain It. It was sure that it had a hold on the girl and she could wait for a few minutes while Its creature slew the Questor.

The Ruination had underestimated Them both. As the Questor was being drawn in by The Ruination's manipulation of the Lama's powers, the girl was running through a darkness toward a voice that always seemed to call to her ... it was Master. Something was wrong. She was needed.

The Tiger Clan Warriors slew the Lama, blasting The Ruination from its mind. As it screamed in agony and rage, the girl found the way out of the trap The Ruination had been building around her.

In a flash she was on her feet, her weapons drawn and at the ready. Looking around she saw nothing out of the ordinary until the bat rose from the furs and swept toward her. A sardonic smile cut her face, action, she'd been hoping that something would happen to draw her into the fight; she was a bloodthirsty little wench after all.

The sword flashed once, twice, three times. The bat lay in multiple pieces on the ground, she bent to look at it and when her eyes fixed on its dying eyes she gasped and pulled back. Those eyes had shown her vistas of a hell so foul, a mind so depraved and rotten that the sight would have destroyed most people's minds.

She fell to her knees and prayed for her Master's safe return. The monsters He fought were deadlier than anything she could possibly dream of.

She suddenly heard a clamoring in the Main Hall, racing down the stairs her sword in hand; she saw two of the Eagles carrying a stretcher into the temple. Wondering who it was, she got as close as possible and saw a shock of reddish blonde hair. She then noticed that the body was missing a foot and there was a great deal of blood dripping from the stretcher.

The monks took the Man into the temple and quietly closed the doors, listening at them she heard chanting, smelt incense, and watched as the healers raced in and out. Someone important she guessed and sighed. I'd better get back to sleep; there will be a full accounting tomorrow.

The Ruination seethed ...............

The army of the Questor continued East after the loss of the mighty warrior Raj, and the appearance of the massive Troll that had slain many in their sleep. The battle between the Questor and the Troll fresh on their minds, there were many sideways glances and much murmuring in the ranks. Would it be all this nightmarish? Would all their fighting be against a single enemy that wandered in from nowhere, slew them at its will and then withdrew while the tool of its control died? Was there no enemy to fight except the fear?

Also in the minds of many were the dreams that had come before the attack, the horror at the idea that the Questor would return to The Ruination and let it through into His own body to rule and destroy all that they knew. He had been a good ruler, much beloved by His men and the residents of the valley, but now that they knew whence He had come originally they feared Him and He spent most of His time alone.

The Tigers could sense the reality; they were the Guardians of the holiest spot in the valley. Only one Man was allowed to safely pass them into the Dale, and His mate. The Questor was that Man; the Tigers had been guarding His predecessors for centuries and knew that the Man was strong and true to His honor. Their greatest fear was that He would be slain, leaving no one to lead. That was the only way that the Ruination would be able to enter the Dale and subvert it to His purposes. While it was certainly the gate to Heaven on Earth ... The Ruination would transform and debase it to open the doors of Hell. The world as we know it would be changed forever and He would have a stronghold that was impregnable.

The Questor's mind was also busy, bits and snatches of His days as The Ruination's General were coming back to Him. While they caused His bile to rise, and His hackles to stand on end He had to know what was coming. A face kept appearing in His mind, white flowing hair, handsome, tall, strong, someone that He had called brother and fought with side by side. Someone who's evil deeds had matched and perhaps surpassed His own.

"Well," the Questor shook His head, "I suppose I'll find out soon enough." The day was darker than any previously, and there were no signs of life except for the vegetation of the jungle. Nothing moved but the army, and even though they were all skilled and trained in combat they sounded like a mob moving through the preternatural forest.

One of the Eagles flew low; He landed before the Questor and took a knee. "My Lord Questor, there is news from the Palace that is both disturbing and happy."

The Questor turned to look at the Eagle, His eyes shifting even as the Eagle watched from the burning hazel of His normal gaze to the penetrating blue that filled His entire eye. The Eagle shivered at the sight, He knew that the Questor was all nerves and eager for news.

"My liege, The Ruination sent a spy to see what was going on in the Palace. Apparently it saw your girl fireinnereyes and tried by sorcery to gain control of her mind."

"WHAT?" roared the Questor? He raised His sword slightly His knuckles white on the grip. "What happened Eagle?"

"She slew it", the Eagle replied with a slight grin on His face. "She chopped it into tiny bits and fed it to the dogs."

"Is she okay? Was she harmed? How is she?" the Questor asked.

The Eagle smiled ... "she's fine, a little shaken, but that girl is a warrior born and bred." He waited for the Questor's smile in response.

"Is there more news?" asked the Questor?

"Yes Lord Questor, Raj has managed to live. The blood loss was extreme, and He has been very weak, but He will survive. Unfortunately, He may never be able to change again. He's stuck in His body as a Man and missing a foot." The Eagle looked up, a tear in His eye, He is a fighter Sir, if any can come back, Raj will be the Man."

The Questor looked away, His eyes also misting. He had known Raj a long time had been through secret ceremonies with the Prince and had even been pierced with one of His feathers, a ceremony that allowed Him to temporarily join the Eagles in flight. He smiled as He remembered taking fireinnereyes on the flight. She had been terrified when He pushed her from the cliff, but it had almost broken her heart to return to human form.

The Questor turned to the Eagle again, "thank you My friend. The news is both disturbing and happy. Go tell your brethren of your Prince's condition, I know they have been talking of little else."

They all turned back to the march, deeper and deeper into this nightmarish wood. Eyes carefully watched for surprise attack. 

Suddenly one of the monks dropped to the ground, an arrow buried in His left eye. The Questor raced forward to his side, the quill was solid black with a tinge of blood red on the tip, the arrow a cruel ebony shaft that would be invisible in this light. The Questor had seen that design before, a chill went over His body and He looked up... the edge of the jungle appeared ahead, a dim light shining from it like a corpse glow in the haunted swamps.