The Gossamer Threads of Fate

By Shiva Winters

~* Book 4.5 of the Salak'patan Series *~

The civilizations of the Halls rose up from the ashes of destruction to begin anew after a terrible war devastated everything and left only the tattered remains of what had once existed. Historical records from a time before the war were lost and discarded in the struggle for survival and buried in the process of rebuilding. All that remains of that vast history for the new civilization of the survivors are the rumors passed down by their ancestors, the shattered remains of the old civilization, and the legends and forgotten fragments of an even older civilization known only as the 'Ancients'. For decades Monorth has been wandering down the path of discovery, slowly but surely uncovering the clues to that lost history and reawakening the knowledge and wisdom of the Ancients. It was towards these goals he had decided to dedicate himself, with his family following along at his side. They had left behind their quiet lives as a part of modern society, so that they could step past the borders of what was known and into the far flung and forgotten realms beyond the Rim.

And for a time their lives were peaceful and their future seemed bright, but what was supposed to be a quiet 'family outing' took them from their quiet sanctuary. It sent them wandering into the unknown, as they sought out the legends of a huge piece of that lost history. Far from the fringes of civilization they find a continent sized city, the ruins of the past, and proof of the vast knowledge of the Ancients. But when a hyper-active Fire cat, a forgotten city of the Ancients, and a lost seemingly impossible technology combine into a disastrous force. Monorth discovers that he has suddenly become stranded in those vast unknown spans of forgotten history. Now he has been caught in that Ancient history by a time machine, trapped far from home with no way to get back, and lost on a world and in a time-line he knows nothing about. To make matters worse Monorth has stepped into the black shadow cast by a cruel evil, the shadow of a monstrous ruler who delights in the torture and deaths of innocent people. That darkness not only threatens to make Monorth's future a short one, but has roots in the darkest moment of his own past. Can Monorth fight his way free of fate, or is he predestined to see his last days in a history that is doomed to be forgotten?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shiva Winters
• Release date: Oct 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301737383

Shiva Winters

I know, I am supposed to come on here and give everyone some deep insight into who I am and the nature of my existence, but for all that I have been writing for better than half my life and have been publishing the results of those efforts for several years, I have not in the past nor will I likely in the future do such a thing. To be perfectly honest, I am simply and without question just not that interesting, personally or professionally, perhaps that is an assessment that is overly humble or unfair, but it's a truth that is nevertheless fundamental. In a day and in the age when seemingly everyone is all too eager to document their every personal detail and display their every passing thought, I personally can find no compelling reason to do the same. Call it a quirk, call it a choice, or call it my own personal form of crazy, but there is me living through the dull-drums of existence and there are my books which at their core are the stories I've told myself over the years, and one category is considerably more interesting to me than the other.When I first started writing, all those years ago, I didn't begin by putting words to a page for profit, or because I had delusions that one day I'd be celebrated for my efforts. I did it because it seemed like it might be a good way to pass the time, and in that moment, though I hardly understood it at that time, I found something when I wasn't looking for it. Since then, as time has passed, and I have honed my abilities, the underlying element of that moment of self-discovery hasn't truly changed, Entertainment. I don't write books because I can, I certainly don't write them for the sake of profit, though there is a glimmer of hope that one day there might be more of that. I write books because it's fun for me, it is my own strange kind of hobby and my own odd form of self-entertainment. And even if were to reach a point on some future day where the scales tip and I feel that this whole attempt to publish the results of my efforts is no longer viable, I will undoubtedly keep writing, if only for my own sake. I first published my books after a long and troubled decision making process, which ultimately weighed out marginally in the favor of the idea, that perhaps because I liked my books a great deal, that perhaps there were people in the world who would find an equal amount of joy in them. While at times there has been good reasons to doubt that belief there have been moments when that belief has proven true.I am not like most writers, that is a truth best acknowledged right up front, I don't write my books thinking to imitate another author with their pulse pounding action, high drama, or unending tension. I write the stories I find interesting, create the worlds I think are cool, to follow the characters I like, through the events that unfold in front of both them and myself as we work our way towards whatever may come. I don't plot out my novels, I don't outline the story, I don't pre-program the dialogue, and often enough even I am surprised by the end of the current chapter as things change on a whim. My books are an organic process that grow and shift, free from over-sight and restrictions and ultimately often lead to place not even I can predict. Whether those who read my books like what comes of my strange hobby is more often than not is my very last concern, and while I might feel compelled to apologize for that being the case, it doesn't or won't change the facts in the end. Each book and each series I write are a result of the page's progress through the succession of each line and paragraph, loyal only to the facts on the page and require only the input of myself as a conduit in allowing those words to progress through their natural courses. So the end results of those efforts often enough take a path not even I expected, but I for one won't and will never change that fact.My books are often strange and unexpected, I feel it is only right to acknowledge this, and there have been some in the past who have taken exception with that fact, angry that I did not meet their expectations. But I did not write my books for them, I wrote them for myself, selfish though that is, and I certainly did not publish my stories for them. Ultimately I publish my books for the small percentage of people who might read them and like them, and for the occasional bits of far flung joy I get from having people tell me how and why they enjoyed something I wrote. If you are one of those readers who starts a book with expectations and the belief that it is the writer's job to meet those expectations, please look elsewhere. But if you are one of those readers who reads simply for the joy of it, without expectations of what you might find, than I hope you will like what I have written.

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The Gossamer Threads of Fate

Book 4.5 of the Salak'patan Series

By Shiva Winters

Copyright 2012 Shiva Winters

Smashwords Edition

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is licensed for personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with other people, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it please return to Smashwords to purchase your own copy. This book may not be copied, reproduced, or distributed without the express written permission of the Author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the Author, and the dedication of the Smashwords staff.

Chapter One: The Fuzzy Messenger of Doom

Welcome. Bent over in a low run with two hands wrapped around 20 pounds of squirming fire cat at one second, the world changed in a flash and he found himself standing in that very same position in a very different setting the next second. Ferin realized the same thing at the same instant, that the others were gone, and he stopped trying to wiggle free. Monorth rose up to his full height and settled the Fire cat in the curve of his elbow. They were standing in a room full of artifacts, some of which seemed familiar, but more of them were like nothing he had ever seen. In the center of that chaos was a lone figure, who gave off a presence like nothing he had ever felt. Judging by your expression we have a problem.

I think we do.. Monorth agreed cautiously. Ferin.. why did you do that? It was a struggle to keep his temper in check, but he just barely managed

<> Ferin stated softly, even though he liked this as little as Monorth, his voice remained firm in his resolve to help those people.

Voice pattern recognized, designation Ferin, master level access granted. The figure seemed the shift slightly, there was a momentary flicker in his form as if a computer processor was kicking into gear somewhere far away. Hello, Master Ferin. There was a slight change in the tone of voice.

<> For his part the insane little nightmare liked the respect in that tone and squealed just a little in the back of Monorth's head. Pleading this wasn't as bad as he thought it might be, he only hoped that Ferin wasn't going to make it worse.

Access introduction file? The figure asked.

Please. The figure remained motionless and with a growl he poked the purring creature in his arms.

<> Ferin giggled happily.

Greetings Ferin and Monorth, if you are hearing this it means that you have become trapped in the past. I am known as Asarian, I am the heart of the great machine or was long ago. What you see now is the automated programs left in the heart of that machine after my demise some time previous to this meeting. The figure began to move as he spoke walking around the room slowly, and Monorth followed just to be sure he caught everything he could. I was old beyond imagining when we first met, a creation of people even more ancient than I was when I had my first conscious thought. I am or was an artificial life-form. And unlike most other lifeforms, I was unable to create a new life to take over for me. But the great machine needed to be protected and therefore I left behind interfaces and programs that could not accomplish all that I could in my prime as a single entity, but could maintain the precious systems at my core. Even still there will come a time when even this will not be true, because the place you two carried news off was from a time when even this emergency protocol was destroyed. We determined that this was an emergency system was, and I quote you in this, 'jury rigged' into a repeating loop, allowing a person stuck in the decline of the great machine to travel back to a time when the could access a more complete system file. I was certain that was a measure taken because time must be recorded. Something, somewhere has to sense the universe moving to understand the flow of time. It is an uncertain thing, and without a record of the passage between eras many things become impossible. It was our mutual belief that in order for you two to return to your own time and return to the families left behind, you two would have to go even farther back to save the great machine and influence the past to allow you to return to the future.

Sounds reasonable enough. Monorth agreed as he knew they were only getting deeper into trouble now.

My programming agrees. Therefore this greeting file had been equipped with a save file that will allow you to do just that. Should you agree. However, the message continues.. The figure seemed to freeze.

<> Ferin murmured when poked.

While time is in fact linear. You carried with you the news of my eventual demise and the destruction of the temple you now see around you, so it is inevitable. But hope is not completely lost because you might still be able to leave clues to be passed into future that will enable them to change what you consider the past and allow you to move back towards the time-line you call your own. I am afraid however that this program could not contain the knowledge you would need to affect those changes, because our converging story lines have not reached that point where that potential change can manifest. And if you would please not interrupt.. this program is not equipped to handle your lip. Since he was notorious for it throughout his known universe, Monorth could take a little amusement in the tone if not the content. I fear you will have to simply play this out and hope for the best. Though I am allowed to give you assurances that there will come a time and a place when things could work out for you, though that is all I can say for reasons this program cannot explain. I can assure you that this course is the best option for both of you at this time. However, when we met you carried with you photographs of the collection around you, and it would be appreciated if you took the time to do that now. The program will pause here and await your commands.

Ferin, you've gotten us into a world of trouble kitten, so from now on you'd better be on your best behavior. Monorth told him bringing the creature up to eye level.

<> Ferin whispered seeming to realize what he had done. <>

You may be right about that, but I have been trying to avoid that.. so let's be more careful from now on. He whispered back.

<> He agreed and as soon as he was on Monorth's shoulder, he was purring. For him great destinies sounded like a fine idea, with a sigh Monorth went about the task of photographing the immense chamber and everything that had been gathered there. Even if he couldn't confirm it at at that time, he got the feeling that much of what had been gathered there were set up like gifts, a museum of a million different cultures and time periods. It was very odd, very surreal, and oddly calming to walk through a display he would have been proud to call his own.

So what do think Ferin? Monorth asked at last as the two of them settled on a bench near one side of the empty chamber. They had slept and eaten two meals and still the program sat nearby stopped in mid sentence, waiting. Ferin had been very quiet and very calm that entire time, and his mind had been quiet as if was silently contemplating deep things tucked away in his own little world.

<> Ferin asked hopefully.

Just a little. Monorth murmured just a little reluctantly.

<> With a telekinetic flop Monorth rolled the wooden bench on its' back and Ferin squealed as he dropped down on the floor. <> Down on the wooden leg tucked away where it couldn't be casually seen was a small quotation, that could have perhaps come from no other being. It said 'Down with the Walls' etched in silver and bore two initials 'P.F.' below it. <> The fire cat giggled.

I kicked over this very same bench.. I know I did.. it's worth a shot, no sense in the others waiting around for us. Better to get them away before Sarath does something desperate. We should just try to do what was suggested and leave clues in history. I am willing to try anything once. Ferin giggled back at him as a small gold coin was extracted from his money pouch. It disintegrated and spelled out a quick message from the beyond. If he was right he had kicked it over in a way that would put it directly in Sian's line of sight, he just hoped it could be just that simple.

<> Ferin murmured to him.

I know kiddo. But you are right, we were already stuck doing this, Senor Phantom. Might as well see it through to the end. Monorth told him as he checked that his translation would work out correctly, he wouldn't want his daughter to come chasing after him just because he forgot to spell check it. We are in this together for however long it takes, right?

<> Ferin agreed happily, to him this was high adventure and exactly what he wanted to spend his time doing. But his heart had been in the right place even if his brain had been a million miles away. Monorth just hoped they could figure this whole mess out before Sarath got angry enough to fulfill her favorite promise.

<> Ferin asked him softly as he packed up their small camp. It was a very odd thing to hear from Ferin, but for once his thoughts seemed to be on something appropriate.

Did your father ever tell you why you were named to the Elder's council on Krenestia? Monorth asked of him.

<> Ferin murmured uncertainly.

Because you and your siblings are all very old souls, and despite your ages you carry with you a wisdom and understanding beyond your years. You were the first of your generation, we all knew it right from the start. Your father was so very proud of everything you did. Monorth told him with a smile and sigh, already feeling a bit homesick. Even if we both die stepping through that next doorway, our spirits will one day and at one time be reborn right where and when we are needed.

<> Ferin murmured softly. <>

<> Monorth told him as he scooped up the somber fuzzball. <>

<> Ferin giggled as his effervescent presence returned again and in full force. <>

Three options available, repeat greeting, use saved destination, cancel access and enter localized time stream. The third option sounded interesting, but it also didn't sound very good.

Option two. Monorth whispered before Ferin picked the one he might want.

<> A door of light opened up in front of them and Monorth stepped through with a sigh, Sarath was going to kill him.

And who is this? A familiar voice asked as the world changed around them for a second time. They were standing again in the same chamber, except now the artifacts were gone and the chamber was filled with soft lighting, potted plants, and people. Monorth was very much aware of people watching him, a great many people and all of them vibrated with a mage-energy he could only achieve on his best days. The program who had been there a moment before was again standing there watching them with interest.

<> Ferin demanded as he launched across the distance and towards the far side of the chamber. However much he might have wanted to get angry about it, as he followed the straight line across the floor taken by the orange white streak, he could see a familiar bench sitting in the distance. <> Ferin announced crestfallen.

Master Ferin. The ethereal hologram commented.

Asarian, I presume. The program focused on him and Monorth gave him a congenial smile. We just met an emergency program you created and it sent us to this moment in time by means of a save file.

Yes, yes, thank you for reminding me. He agreed as a glowing display appeared at his right hand, whatever 'he' did with it was a mystery.

And you asked for pictures of what had gathered there. Monorth pulled out his com-pad and presented him with the collection of images.

Hmm.. The image agreed as Monorth's screen flickered for a moment as the collection ran through in a flash.

Asarian, who is this? A voice soft and sweet whispered through the air around them, and as the sounds registered in his slow senses someone gently touched his arm. As Monorth turned to look at her, she was drawing back the hood of white cloak to reveal a face he knew only too well.

Seletra?! The word was forced past his lips even before he thought about it. Her smile shifted to one of confusion, even while Ferin let out a squeal as he was caught by a woman in a red cloak. His head spun around in among the colorful decorated cloaks there was one that was green and one that was blue.

How did you know my name? She asked with the same soft sweet voice filled with the deepest of concerns.

There is much to be discussed.. I see. Asarian murmured.

Seems that there is.. Monorth agreed.

Until then, I am afraid that you are under arrest. Asarian's next words felt like Monorth had been punched in the gut and barely knew how to react as he pulled away. Ferin might have come to his aid if the figure in the red cloak didn't stop him with a sense of real honest fear that suddenly swarmed into the room from all sides, as a flood of guards in black swept in from all sides. Obviously things weren't going to be easy from that moment forward.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

It had already been several weeks since they had emerged into that time-line and had immediately been placed under arrest by the less than gentle guards. The guards one and all wore all black and had personalities and presences far more suited to brigands, thieves, and murderers than any kind of 'law enforcement' he had ever encountered. Indeed, though Monorth's instincts might have normally made him fight them with all his might and ability, the sudden intense fear those men had called up in Seletra and the other seemingly familiar presences in that room, had stopped him cold. That fear was far from ordinary, it was the kind of fear that twice been called up inside of himself when he had come face to face with real true evil in his earlier years. That fear permeated the whole of that world and hung like a thick black smog over everything and everywhere, it was a fear that burned at his senses and brought cold chills every time he tried to contemplate those mysteries. Just before he had been hauled away, cuffed, and captured, Asarian had whispered to him telepathically telling him not to fight, not to reveal himself, and to not do anything for the time being. He had been told he must wait, and for as much as that went against Monorth's every instinct and all of his goals, all of which involved getting home to his family, that omnipresent sense of fear had made him hold back in those crucial moments that followed.

He had been searched for weapons, of course, and much of his inventory had been taken away along with most of his personal items. But somehow for some unknown reason, the golden blade, the sword that was perhaps the most obvious statement of the dangers he represented, had been overlooked completely, and he had been shoved into a cell with the hilt of that sword still poking out over his right shoulder. Of course this was not the first time that legendary object had been passed over and forgotten by those who were supposed to take it from him. In fact, of the handful of times that he had been captured by enemy forces the only times that blade had been taken from him was those times when his captors had felt it necessary to strip him of all his clothes. It was perhaps just one more mystery that was a mere footnote in the giant laundry list of mysteries that blade and those like it represented. There was of course only so much he could do to confirm or deny such things, but he had it on good authority that the sword he had carried for 25 years was one of the Legendary Seven blades. Forged from ancient magic and perhaps older than anything that might still exist in the time-line he called home, it and the other six blades were more legend and rumor than fact. Past history had long ago forgotten the origins of those blades, and rumor had long ago erased any real traceable truth from the 'facts' that had been passed down to his generation. Even still Monorth had held that blade long enough, seen it do the impossible enough times, and felt its' power often enough, to be certain that even the most grand and unbelievable of rumors were just there merest glimmer of the real truth.

Time, that simple word seemed almost unreal when faced with all the problems that now weighed on his shoulders. And the word itself seemed incapable of encompassing the seriousness of that situation he found himself lingering beneath. It had amused him the previous day to imagine himself at Atlas from the Greek legends of Earth, with the world resting on his shoulders, and that planet sized object being all the problems he now faced. Only that world of trouble was many tens of thousands times larger than a single object could possibly be. Even if he were to dismiss all the things he could not now contend with, things that had been locked off behind a span of unknown history and that place where 'home' would one day be, this would not even lessen that burden by the merest fraction. He was trapped in time, that much had been made absolutely crystal clear to him right from the start. While this state might protect him from a sister only too ready and willing to end his existence for having allowed this too happen, he was also aware that perhaps his reasonable fear in face of her favorite threat was only a tiny glimmer of darkness when compared to the evil smog hanging over this time-line.

For all that Asarian's promise had meant to him in chasing back that sense of the utterly hopeless situation he found himself in, Monorth had been given all the time in the infinite universe stuck in that cell to contemplate the monumental weight of the problem he now faced. He was stuck in a time-line not his own, cut off from any manner of easy passage towards home, faced with an unknowable situation, a giant laundry list of problems not directly his own, and all manner of mysteries he had no means of unraveling, all while trapped in a cage. Something was seriously wrong on that world, his instincts had told him that long before the cuffs had snapped closed around his wrists. Evil in its' many varied forms did not need a direct marketing campaign to announce the hold it had over that place, and it certainly did not have the need to gloat at him from the other side of the cage doors. The problem was for all that Monorth did have the means to free himself, to strike out across the city at whatever heart of that evil he might find, the question remained if he should even do so. This was not his time-line and he had read far too much science fictions in his youth to not be aware of the dangers changing history might have. He needed answers, he needed them quickly, and the one entity that had been marked as the source of those answers had already had Monorth arrested.

<> Ferin called just before his concealing spells faded and he was suddenly there inside Monorth's cell. For all that the bizarre Fire cat was at the heart of his problems and the source of his troubles, Monorth could not help but feel infinitely grateful for that fuzzy presence at that time. Even if he was a touch annoyed that the nightmare still seemed to regard himself as being the one in charge and Monorth as his subordinate.

<> He greeted as he heaved his upper body away from the stone slab that served as a bed and swung his legs down to the floor. Ferin took this as an open invitation to leap up into Monorth's lap and claim what was perhaps the most comfortable seat in the whole of that small space. He was purring almost automatically and despite the fact that Monorth was still struggling with the effort to forgive him, it was hard not to reach up and pet that warm soft little body. Besides the fact that his sword was still his, the only bit of good luck Monorth could have claimed in this whole situation was Ferin himself. Even though the Fire cat was a trouble maker, vocal, and weird in any number of ways, his size belied his true nature. Monorth had it on good authority and strong suspicion that the Fire cats while an old and proud race, they had been created long after the time period where they found themselves. They and the other Spirit children of the seven tribes easily considered the smallest of the intelligent races ever discovered, and that size perhaps played a vital role in keeping Ferin out of a cage of his own and free to move about. That freedom was absolutely vital at that time as it had provided those few tiny glimmers of knowledge that might one day lead Monorth to an understanding of the truth. At least he hoped so, since thus far those glimmers of a still distant truth were all that Ferin had managed to catch as he moved about the vast city above him and around them. <>

<> Ferin murmured vaguely with his mind dripping with the sense of utter contentment because of the attention he was being given. However the explanation of that 'one thing' did not seem at all forthcoming and after several minutes of silence, Monorth was contemplating poking that fuzzy thing in his lap in order to get the words started once more. But before he could give into that annoyed instinct there was a shuffling of noise outside the cell bars, a sound that the passage of weeks told him should not be there. Monorth had from the start been held in an empty corridor of caged chambers so far away from the occupied region of the prison he hadn't even heard a single whisper of sound from the shouting prisoners that had been present when he had been brought down into those confined spaces. While he might appreciate the quiet, it had ultimately frustrated him a great deal that he had no opportunities to even attempt to question anyone about the situation or the circumstances he had been thrust into. It was by all rights hours before the guards should be passing through with his next meal, and the patrols to insure he was still trapped had lasted only a few days after his initial incarceration. <<.. him.>> Ferin added in the next moment.

As Monorth waited and watched, contemplating the need to have Ferin hide once more lest someone be given a good reason to question the nature of the Fire cat, however Ferin did that for him popping up from his lap and casting his invisibility spells just before the three figures appeared. Two were those vile sorts of people, the one's whose cruelty was written in their very nature and whom served as guards and other officers of authority, but the third was in every way a deep sort of surprise. By all rights, Monorth had understood long before that that point that 'cruel and unusual' was the norm when it came to punishment on that world as opposed to the state that was to be avoided. Kindness seemed to be more of a far flung ideal when it came to things Monorth could sense taking place off in an unseen distance. This horrible state had been confirmed by Ferin whose usual effervescence had been seriously dampened by many of things he had reported from the surface of the city above them. The darkness and death were omnipresent and terrible, of this Monorth had few doubts and this fact was driving him nearly mad with the wish to find the center of that evil and eliminate it. This need was made all the worse by the fact that he wasn't even sure if he should dedicate himself towards this end since were he to change the time-line even worse things might come to the time he desperately wished to return to.

However it did not change the fact that someone was stepping up to the doors of his cage who by all rights deserved his focus and attention. As Monorth contemplated this unexpected event he deeply surprised when with a wave of 'his' hand, the two guards who escorted 'him' were sent off back down the corridor and out of sight. Sensing almost instantly that this might be his first real chance to reach towards the many millions of questions his incarceration had prompted. Monorth waited until a steel door slammed shut unseen down the corridor before he rose to his feet and moved towards the barred barrier on the other side of the small cell. As he approached he just barely felt something change, it was so intensely subtle that Monorth's finely honed magical senses barely even registered that something was different. Even the magical 'snap' as the end of the woven lines of energy barely solidifying into a spell form even registered on his senses, by the time Monorth reached the bars and the figure on the other side of them, 'he' finished his casting. Only the all too subtle change in that sensation of being watched allowed Monorth to guess that some sort of concealment was placed over the area around them.

<> The subtle telepathic voice that spoke in whispers, nevertheless held the strength to warn Monorth that any violation of these rules would lead to his immediate death, and not necessarily from the person standing on the other side of those bars.

<> Monorth agreed on his tightest band of telepathy. Very much like a few of those faces seen for just a few moments inside that crowded temple weeks before, this face was both far too familiar and far too unfamiliar, for Monorth to feel entirely comfortable facing it once more. Just as Seletra's face was one he could never forget, nor could Monorth simply cast aside the image of 'his' face. Once upon a far flung future, this figure was, or perhaps would be known as Tethan the 'God' of Energy, and he, like Seletra who was later known to him as the Goddess of Wind, had both swirled about in the background of Monorth's day to day life. Though that later incarnation was known as the God of Energy, it was also widely acknowledged that 'Goddess' could be applied equally. Tethan was said to be a neuter, neither specifically male nor female, and therefore very much like energy of all kinds, being neither good nor evil directly. This element of the unspecified and the unknown was still reflected in this figure now standing on the other side of those bars.

This version of the Tethan he would later come to know was in almost every outward detail the same figure that Monorth had met more than a few times. He was thin, unmuscular, unmasculine, unfeminine, and in every other way androgynous having no real sense of being either male or female. His hair was pure snow white, his eyes were gray, his skin was pale, his clothes were plain and he seemed little changed outwardly from the figure of godhood who had stood in Monorth's presence. Only two things seemed different than that later entity, the first was the addition of a gray cloak that concealed much of this figure and the two glyphs that marked him both front and back. One was the symbol for the Tribe of Energy, the second was the word 'Trusted'. These made Monorth believe he was dealing with someone who held a status not much above that of a prisoner. The second change was the more telling one, this person in every shape and form lacked any sense of the godhood he would later exude like overflowing aura of power and influence. It was as if that intense power he would later contain had been sucked away leaving only this small unassuming figure to simply look like the one Monorth knew.

<> Tethan snapped back at him with an anger that the later Tethan seemed incapable of feeling, reminding Monorth of these differences. How did you pass beyond the Time Gate? How did you circumvent the restrictions of your Emperor?! These words were spoken right over top of the telepathic whispers almost threatening to confuse the two questions. But it seemed obvious to Monorth who was long ago trained in the games that spies played that they were to have two conversations, each one in a different voice and each one in different matters. More than a little startled by these duel angers and these duel roles Monorth took his time about answering.

I bend my knee to no one, least of all one who presumes to call himself my Emperor. Monorth growled back to him. These words were the most dangerous ones he could have chosen to utter at that point, but because those two voices had spoken to him he also knew that there was an all too deep and concealed hatred in Tethan's core for the 'Emperor'. Outright defiance might get him killed, but it also might give pause as whomever was behind this title might think to worry. In those endless weeks of isolated waiting it had become all too clear that Monorth's life had been forfeit the moment he had stepped through the gate. And Ferin's reports had made it clear that execution was a sentence that was carried out without hesitation, trial, or mercy on that world, and it was a sentence carried out for seemingly the most innocent of crimes. So why was it that he was left there in the dungeons to contemplate his possible demise for weeks when so many others went to that fate after mere hours. Obviously, somewhere, something was worried about him, frightened about the possibilities, and that worry had perhaps lead to Monorth's life being spared at least for a little while. Now was the time when Monorth would either plead innocence and hope for leniency, or this was time when he would make that 'something' think it had reason to be worried. <> That name perhaps more than anything in any universe made that figure's blood run cold through 'his' veins. Those shadowed eyes grew quite large as they regarded Monorth through those bars. As such, I care little for 'Your Emperor's' restrictions. He added giving the figure on the other side good reason to take great pause in his guise as a 'loyal' servant of the Emperor.

How did you pass through the time gate?! Tethan barked at him, even as those eyes narrowed sharply with intense suspicion. <> Tethan snapped at him in a sharp frightened whisper. <> That choice of words struck a chord in Monorth that made them far more significant than they might have been normally. While he was intensely curious about that unknown meaning, he had a strong enough suspicion and a sense of urgency to let those words pass for a moment, because the surprise he felt pouring off of Tethan was the same surprise he had felt from Seletra when he had unknowingly let her name slip.

I am not going to answer that. Monorth replied with same sense of defiance. <>

You dare defy the Emperor?! He demanded with an all too faked anger. <> After that the vocal conversation became all too unimportant as Tethan leaned in as his intense need to know permeated the small area around them. He continued to ask questions and Monorth continued to refuse give answers, but only to hide the conversation being conducted beneath that exchange of words. <> Those words stirred up a memory, a very old memory from a time of the greatest darkness in his life, a memory of a death that had haunted Monorth for 25 years and a memory that would torment him for all the years that might follow. But Tethan unaware of Monorth's sudden anger and fear wasn't about to let him have the moment that he needed to clear that shock from his system. <>

<> Monorth choose to answer the second more urgent question.

<> Monorth would really have liked it if he had chosen to finish those words since clues were all too vital and needed at that time, but he caught himself and moved on ahead without a second thought. <>

<> Tethan's eyes immediately shot to a point just over Monorth's right shoulder leaving almost no doubt that he was aware of the sword handle that sat there and there was no doubt that he was aware that it did not belong there. <> Just as he feared Tethan flinched away from the bars, and while he vocally accused Monorth of some slight against him to cover that instinctive reaction. But it was the unseen reaction, the one that made Tethan's mind pull away from his that offered the most offense. <> With that Monorth turned away, walked back across the cell, and resettled on the stone bed where he took up the napping but invisible Fire cat.

<> Tethan murmured before he removed his concealing spells, turned, and left.

The Black Emperor this was a dark thought Monorth had tried to banish away from his memories a long time before. It was a darkness he thought was gone forever, but it was a hatred that still burned in Monorth's core. That was the title the darkness had given itself in that wonderful and terrible first year Monorth had lived through when he had achieved some of his happiest moments and had learned how truly deep and terrible sorrow could be. In that year he had come to the Salak'patan he had found his one true love and then a darkness had come and took her from his life, nearly destroying Monorth in the process. It too had called itself the Black Emperor, only that thing had been more like a memory of all the stored anger and hate of some other creature, given substance long after the death of the thing that had once held it. It had tried to destroy Monorth, to kill him before he could grow into his abilities, to end him before he could achieve some destiny. That destiny was something that Monorth had tried desperately to avoid, to escape, and otherwise forget for all the time that had passed since that terrible day LeShana had given her life to stop that darkness. It seemed that destiny had played its' cards only too well, enacting its' will through the seemingly least likely tool he could have imagined, a bizarre little Fire cat named Ferin. In seeking his destiny that troubling and troublesome creature had lead Monorth into the very last thing he wanted, his own destiny.

Forcing these thoughts aside, and silencing that hatred for another day, Monorth focused his mind on the only other clue he could have taken from that strange and all too brief conversation. 'True Names', the very addition of the first word seemed to suggest a great deal, and this certainly had been proven by both Seletra and Tethan whose shock and surprise was all too clear. It wasn't exactly a new concept to him of course, the medieval legends of Earth were literally packed with fairy tales, legends, and superstitions about the power of names and the evils that could be done if a name fell into the wrong hands. Inside the halls there were still any number of planets and cultures whose stubborn refusal to allow progress and the 'mainstream' change tradition values, and many of those cultures had similar fears about the power of names. Some few even went as far as giving their children three sets of names, a public name for the worlds outside their home-world, a private name for use with their own people, and a secret name. Though the idea of a True Name was a superstition in the eyes of the modern magics of Monorth's time-line, the fear he had felt in Tethan's mind had been all too real and all too potent. And that too was deeply troubling in the current lines of Monorth's thoughts.

Oi!! The sharp shout was the first words in weeks that hadn't been spoken by one of the emperor's mouthpieces. All of them to appear at the far side of Monorth's cage door had been members of the Tribe of Energy, but Tethan had never again appeared during the passage of those last weeks. Monorth had not even bothered to try to talk to any of the others and had simply laid on his 'bed' and ignored the demands for information being yelled at him, or the ones who rarely attempted to coax the answers from. He had spent at the least several months in that cell already, and any attempts to obtain a more accurate number were and had been futile. With Ferin as his only connection to the outside world half a year could have passed and that Cat would claim it was a month, he unfortunately seemed to have no sense of the passage of time. Monorth glanced over towards the cage doors and saw three hulking guards lingering just outside in the corridor. Considering his total lack of cooperation and his intentions to continue that policy, he had wondered when someone would get it into their head to try and beat or torture answers out of him. Now Monorth just had to decide if now was his moment to try and escape, or if he would let the beatings and torture happen to him to keep up appearances. He spun around and slipped to his feet as the guards unlocked the door and slid it open. Orders came down, yere to be released.. but don't be tryin' anythin' outsider, else me and the boys willa make your death last for weeks.

Monorth almost thought to question the smallest of the three men on his words, not quite believing such a thing was possible, but that might have only stirred up more trouble so he bit his tongue and kept his silence. So Monorth grunted his acknowledgment and stepped out of the cell, the men watched him with a sense of fear hidden behind their mean looks. Taking this as a good sign Monorth glared at them until the smallest moved to lead the way with the other two following nervously behind. Monorth paced along as he was lead first into the more populated areas of the prison, then past those places and chambers he did not want to think about, and finally up towards the surface. He had been blindfolded the last time he had passed through that place, and it was even less appealing having seen it with his own eyes. Much to his surprise everything that had been confiscated from him save for those few weapons worn openly, beyond his sword, were returned to him before he was escorted outside, and there he found a familiar face waiting for him.

You have been remanded into the custody of the city guard. You are not to leave the borders of the city, you will be watched closely, and any action or attempt to subvert your Emperor's laws will be punished with your immediate execution. Is this under.. Tethan barked at him, but Monorth had no intention to listen to the whole thing.

Whatever. Monorth grumbled back at him cutting him off sharply. Tethan almost seemed grateful that he didn't have to keep spouting that drivel to him as Monorth began to walk and Tethan was forced to move with him. As they stepped further from the entrance of that dark place that sense of being watched grew smaller as if that influence was not as omnipresent as he might have thought. As they moved slowly into the streets he could feel the figure next to him weaving the same concealing spells as before only this time they were just a fraction less subtle, or else Monorth was growing more aware of the magics of this realm.

<> Tethan whispered to him as the spells snapped into place around them. <>

<> Monorth asked of him, deciding that he might get more information if he tried to establish some kind of reporte with this figure, as opposed to be regarded with deep suspicion all the time.

<> There was an intense sort of bitterness in that reply and a lingering sense of hate and sadness. <> The intensity of those feelings, that hatred of a body that was flawed was only too clear, and as much as Monorth own natural curiosity might wish to know the truth, he decided that was the last way to make friends.

<> Monorth questioned him softly.

<> That sharp intense anger that the Tethan he knew from the future seemed incapable of, reared its' head once more and an angry gaze snapped across the short distance between them. <>

<> Monorth murmured back to him.

<> Tethan commented back to him gesturing down one of the streets, so that they turned and moved towards a different section of the city.

<> The shocked look this drew from his guide was all too obvious, Monorth was just glad for all that this was a public place that no one seemed to be paying the two of them a great deal of attention.

All things considered this was the quietest city Monorth had ever experienced. They were surrounded on all sides by people and there were no merchants yelling the values of their wares, there were no drunks enjoying the midday repast, there were no neighbors calling to each other, and there were no children playing in the streets, in fact there did not seem to be any children at all. Other than sounds most would associate with tens of thousands of people moving about city streets there was not one sound not directly related to movement beyond the near whispers exchanged between people as they took care of business. Even if Monorth had not already associated that relative silence with a people who had been terrorized, tormented, and frightened into submitting under the cruel reign of a monster, than all he had to do was look around to confirm these facts beyond a shadow of a doubt. At every intersection where two roads met, there was an area no person dared to go near as they passed through those crowded spaces. Instead the people jammed themselves into the