#warrada

The Core...

"So how does it feel, Evu?" said Warrada, surveying the newly conquered region of Naroom.

"It feels... good," said Evu. "They take me seriously now. I have respect. And all the jellybeans I want. I can force them to make me more!"

"Excellent," said Warrada. "You made the right choice in joining us."

"I know," said Evu absently. "There's only one thing that bothers me."

"What's that?"

"Every time the Core has risen, someone or something has moved to stop it. I've been studying this lately. Une defeated Agram at the beginning of the Moonlands. Agadon defeated Agram when he rose for the first time. When he rose the second time, that outworlder beat Agram. It's as if some unseen force, some higher power thwarts us at every turn."

Warrada hissed dismissively. "Pure coincidence. Une is no more, Agadon is no more, and that Tonyjones Magi has left the Moonlands. No one is left to thwart us. And even if someone thought they might have the power, that so-called hero would be smart enough to stay out of our way."

"Well that's just it. If that so-called hero were foolish enough to think that he or she might be smarter, why do you assume that hero wouldn't be foolish enough to try to stop us? And if we didn't expect it, we might be caught off guard, and--"

"Shut up," said Warrada irritably.

---

Warrada walked through the battleground, her sinuous body swaying like a cobra with her easy, assured gait. Once Vash Naroom had fallen, Evu had happily led the Dark Twins to the secret entrance of the Great Library. Now it, too, had fallen, despite the best efforts of its caretakers. The ravages of chaos reigned all about. Scorch marks marred the grass; great trees, partially formed into carillions, lay uprooted and shattered; and the sticky black ooze of corrupted dreams dripped and pooled throughout the area. Warrada noted all of this as she moved, but most of all she listened with great satisfaction to the shards of animite that crunched underfoot, the broken dreams of the citizens of this ruined land.

Truly it was a beautiful scene. Her face broke into a smug smile, eyes half-lidded in confidence.

She saw Hrada, lying in the center of a vast blast zone, just barely beginning to sit up. One hand tightly clutched his aching head.

As he teetered uncertainly, Warrada sidled up. "You are the Dark Ruler, brother," she murmured softly. "Get up. Now."

A feeble, pained noise escaped Hrada's throat as he slowly complied.

"And don't whine," she whispered as she moved past. "It makes you sound like a wimp."

She moved past the tree-dwellings that had once housed the caretakers of the Great Library; they now burned brightly, set ablaze either by chance or by deliberate act of the rampaging nightmare creatures.

Yes, she decided, this place is looking downright homey again. I may have to move back here. Needs more brambles, though, she thought. With a gesture, she caused a clot of brambles to erupt from the blackened earth at the base of a large tree. They grew rapidly and began to strangle the life from the great baloo.

In the distance she heard the hideous, warbling cry of glee of one of the nightmare creatures as it pursued a terrified refugee, but the noise did not distract her in the slightest. Such sounds were music to her ears.

She moved through the battle-ravaged area until at last she approached the prize she'd sought for so long. Great trees stood throughout the area, with massive wooden-bound books perched atop. So great were these trees that one had to climb ladders to read the tomes, and so huge were the books themselves, that even the largest Magi could lie down on one, pull a page over as a blanket, and sleep peacefully.

Warrada paused at the edge of the Great Library. Her heart thrilled within her. All this power, all this knowledge, now it was hers!

Hrada staggered up to her side, feet dragging, one hand clutching his aching head and the other holding the small of his back. He paused next to her unsteadily swaying. She turned to him and cocked her head to the side and raised one eyebrow. "Thank you, my dear brother," she said, batting her eyes, "it's just what I've always wanted."

"You're welcome," he mumbled, then he fainted face-first into the dirt.

Abruptly a hardened look crossed her features. "Now we can start plotting the conquest of the whole world," she said. Warrada chuckled quietly and menacingly, then sauntered for the nearest book, stepping on the unconscious form of her brother.

---

"Whoa! Dude, what's shakin'?" mumbled Yaki from around a mouthful of thick stew. Poad, seated next to him, had also stopped eating as frantic shouts started to drift to them from outside the inn.

"That doesn't sound good," said Poad. "You don't suppose..."

"Oooooh yeahhh! We got us some major trouble! Lets go, li'l dude!" replied Yaki as he stood and ran toward the door.

Panic greeted them as they stepped outside the Inn's double doors. The residents of Vash Naroom were fleeing past them, scared but not panicked, running from forces beyond their control. They all fled west. Yaki and Poad turned and ran as hard as they could to the east.

As they neared the source of the commotion, they saw Eidon franticly fling himself to the side as a bolt of black energy chilled the air beside him. Hrada, standing in front of him, flicked his finger and the bolt curved around to hit Marella's lascinth, sending it to the ground, writhing. Marella struggled to help the poor creature, but to no avail as it dissipated into the dream plane. Morag and Togoth stood on either side of Hrada, with Warrada behind the three powerful Magi. Battle raged around the small rise that the Core Magi had chosen for their stand. Sperri, Ohk, Pruitt, and Zajan were already there, taking up the defense of their homeland.

"Poad!" yelled Eidon, "Get Orwin out of here and take care of the children! Hurry!"

Poad turned and began to run the other way, amazed that Eidon could tell that he was there without even looking. Yaki lengthened his stride, eating up the space between himself and Hrada. Gibbering things jumped out at him, seeming to come from nowhere, attempting to bring him down. As he ran, Yaki's gem-topped staff materialized in his hand, a shimmering field of magical energy encasing both it and his gauntlets. He swung his staff in one hand while his other hand balled up into a fist. As the dark creatures neared him they met the end of his staff or the front of his fist. When either connected, whatever creature of darkness was unfortunate enough to be in his way was flung backward, flying over the combat to smack into the trees or the ground of the forest.

As he ran up the hill, his staff and fist flying at blinding speeds, he roared his challenge to Hrada. "Yo! I'm the guy that you want! Wooo! Dig it, betrayer! You are mine! Bring on your bad stuff, tough guy, and I'll beat you over the head with it!" He increased his gait even more as he neared Hrada, his animite rings glowing and a snarl on his face.

Hrada turned without a word and looked straight at Yaki's fearsome charge. Hrada's eyes flashed once and a shimmering, shadowy field began to form around The Naroom Magi. Yaki paid it no heed, but continued his charge, focused on his powerful enemy.

The blackened field around Yaki began to contract, forming a shell that matched his every move. Yaki seemed unaware of its existence as he neared Hrada. His ring of animite came up as he sent another creature of shadow flying with his staff. The force behind the blow pulverized the creature, sending it back to the dream plane instantly.

Yaki began to activate his ring, calling for the creatures of the forest to fight with him. Just as his ring began to shine, the shadow field around Yaki closed in on him from all sides. The piercing scream that emanated from his lips echoed through the trees. All eyes turned to see him stumble to his knees and pitch forward, his face hitting the ground with a thud.

A derisive snort escaped from Hrada's lips as he watched Yaki's shaking body attempt to fight off the dark influence that infected it. That pitiful Magi was done. He turned to the rest of the battle to see how his minions faired. The Naroom Magi, working in concert, were pushing back Morag and Togoth. Warrada was still to the rear, calmly watching over the battle but not yet taking part in it.

Suddenly the sun disappeared. Hrada looked up and turned around, readying his ring. Behind him, tall enough to block out the sun, was the biggest furok that Hrada had ever seen. It towered over him, huge firds fluttering around its head. Hrada jumped, tumbling in a somersault over the ground as the furok brought down one of its gigantic feet where the Shadow Magi had stood just a moment ago.

Behind the furok guardian, Pruitt fumed. She did not know what had happened to Yaki, but there was no way that she would let her love fall prey to this evil beast of a Magi. "Get him!" was all she could sputter to the guardian. "Get him now!" She knew that Hrada had seen the great creature and was avoiding it, but she didn't care. There was nothing that he could do to stop it. She started to run toward Yaki.

A faint, whispered voice wafted over to Pruitt as she ran. "Love is for fools." Pruitt started and looked around her, suddenly noticing Warrada leaning against a tree just a few feet away. "Naroom is mine, and so are you." With that, Warrada snapped her fingers and a pit appeared in the ground in front of Pruitt. Dark, misshapen hands emerged, grabbing hold of Pruitt and dragging her down. A single scream escaped the ringsmiths lips before the pit closed over her.

The furok guardian, still attempting to corner Hrada, heard its controller's scream and came running, only to be blasted on the back and side at the same time by Hrada and Warrada. After several pounding attacks, the giant furok stumbled to the ground and disappeared just inches away from where Pruitt had disappeared.

Pruitt's scream tore into Yaki as he knelt there on his hands and knees, shuddering. He looked up, seeing the conflict in front of him through the lens of the conflict inside of him, and saw Pruitt being pulled into a pit in the ground in front of Warrada. "Whatever it takes," he murmured to himself through clenched teeth, "whatever it takes." He took a deep breath and stopped fighting the darkness that encroached upon his very being. He embraced the cold energy, making it his own, letting it warp his body, mind, and spirit. He used his strength not to resist it, but to mold it. He rose.

Hrada snarled as he looked over the fading body of the furok guardian. He looked to Warrada and winked. Warrada looked back, and the smirk on her face dropped for a second as she looked beyond him. "Behind you!" she shouted. Hrada spun, ready for anything. Or so he thought. Yaki stood before him, but not any Yaki that he knew. Energy crackled around his body, dark sparks of glistening power. Everything else was normal, except for his eyes. They had been a deep green, but now were a dark, burning red.

"You are one of us now, Yaki," said Warrada from his side, "turn, and fight your old companions." Hrada had not even realized that she was there until she spoke.

"I will fight my old companions," came the reply. Without any sign of hesitation, Yaki raised his hands up to the Dark Twins. "I will fight and I will conquer!" His voice reached high into the sky as he boomed out his challenge clearly and concisely.

Hrada and Warrada stood confused for only a single moment, but that moment of time was all Yaki needed. Black power swirled around him, coalescing into a sheet of flames the color of darkest night. The flames flew at each of the twins, followed by bolt after bolt of corrupted energy. They attempted to dive for safety, but neither made it in time and both were knocked off balance by the dark flames that then enveloped them.

"You will bring back my love," commanded Yaki, each word punctuated by another blast of dark energy, "or I will find her!" Yaki raised his animite ring above his head and called on the creatures at his command. A great creature began to take shape, a tree that built itself up from the ground, vines and branches lashing together to form a great beast of wood, a giant carillion. Veins of dark, corrupted energy throbbed throughout the carillion, driving it higher and making it larger than any seen before, sending spikes and thorns out in place of the usual branches, and giving the wood a dark and sinister cast. Baleful red eyes glared down at the twins, each one slitted and glaring.

Yaki's cold voice carried over the now silent battlefield as he raised his fist in defiance. "This land is ours, and these people are free! You will not prevail here!" As the last words of his pronouncement boomed from his lips, his hand began to strike downward. As it did, so too did the enormous foot of the carillion standing next to him. Hrada, still sprawled on the ground from the impact of Yaki's spells, rolled to the side, his cold calm coming back to him as the creature attacked. The gigantic wooden foot slammed into the ground next to him, the force of its impact sending him several feet through the air. He rolled and rose to his feet warily, watching the great creature that stood before him. Dark energy crackled audibly up and down the length of the thing; power emanating from it as it moved with a fluid grace that seemed unnatural coming from something of its size.

Hrada wove from one side to the other, using his dexterity and agility to avoid the carillion as it tried to crush him. He made no effort to fight against it, and his face was calm and composed as he executed each movement with precision and fluid grace. He almost seemed to be waiting. On occasion he enhanced his abilities slightly with his Magic, but then only to move a bit faster or a bit further.

Yaki also had a serene calm about him. After watching the carillion attack Hrada for a moment, he turned to face Warrada as she stood there, hands at her sides, looking as if this battle were the most natural thing in the world. Even being flung to the ground had not misplaced a single strand of her hair, nor dirtied her clothes in any way. She faced Yaki, looking more curious than anything else.

"Do you actually think that you could defeat us, dear Yaki?" she whispered. "Come, join us. Be with your beloved. Save your power and your dearest love." With each word she glided forward, her hands out now, coaxing Yaki towards her, enticing him with her words and motions. "Do not waste your time here, protecting this worthless village." With her last word she gestured off to the rest of the battle. Yaki's eyes followed her motions and he saw that Morag and Togoth were pushing back Marella and the other Naroom Magi, slowly but surely winning the battle.

"There are grand places out there Yaki," said Warrada, "grand places and wondrous things. Come with me, let me show you all that there is to see, let me give you everything that you want."

Warrada was now within just a few steps of Yaki. He stared at her, his red eyes glowing slightly.

Yaki's spirit faltered for a moment, trapped between the pleasure of Warrada's voice and the pain of accepting the darkness into himself. He saw his people failing; saw the flames beginning to erupt in Vash Naroom.

Then he caught sight of Evu slowly hobbling toward the battle from the town.

Yaki's face broke into a grim smile. The arrival of his old friend renewed his courage. His resolve was set and he was ready. Warrada misread the chance in his face; her mouth perked up in a grin, sure that her words were sliding around his heart and turning him to her side.

As the smile turned up the corners of her mouth, Yaki struck. From the ground, vines and creepers launched themselves at her legs. From the air, the trees reached down to grab at Warrada and bind her. Bolts of black lightning burst from Yaki's closed fists, striking her in the chest. Warrada screamed as her body writhed with pain from the power of Yaki's strike.

"I will not fall to your twisted manipulations, you hag!"

"Then you will fall to mine!" came a strong, sure voice from behind Yaki. He turned to find Evu standing a short distance away from him, a cadre of twisted creatures already in motion and charging from Evu's ring directly at him. Yaki's face froze in surprise for a moment before he was overrun by the horde of creatures powered by Evu's dark dreams.

Hrada made his move as Yaki fell, summoning a mighty gorath next to the giant carillion. As the carillion turned on this new threat, the gorath reached out with its enchanted manacles and clasped them around the neck of the great tree-beast. The carillion stopped moving and stood placid while the gorath held its chain, magically bonding the two together.

Then, to the great surprise of all, Poad ran into the fray, bowling over Evu as he made a beeline to the fallen body of his friend, Yaki. "Eidon, Evu has betrayed us! Flee! Vash Naroom is clear and we have no hope of winning this now!" Even as he yelled this, he reached down and lifted the limp body of Yaki. With a strength and speed that belied his pudgy body, Poad tossed Yaki over his shoulder like a sack of mushrooms and ran to the forest. He left several snarling eebits standing in his wake to stave off pursuit, if only for a moment.

As they left the battlefield, they heard a wail of fear and despair, a tortured feminine voice crying out with an utter lack of hope. With the last of his strength, Yaki reached out one hand toward the black pit where Pruitt lay captive.

The last thing he remembered was seeing the leaves of the forest conceal the sight from view.

---

Hrada slouched in Agram's large throne, his arms draped idly across the heavy armrests. He tapped his foot in impatience.

"My, when you slouch like that," said Warrada casually to her brother, "it makes you look so young." The corner of her mouth twitched with a small smirk as Hrada immediately straightened up and sat in the throne properly. Good posture was essential to the illusion of power in a throne as large as Agram's, and she knew they'd need as much power--and illusion--as possible.

She heard Morag approaching. Morag was a Magi powerful enough that he hadn't even used his legs for untold centuries; now they just dwindled away to nothing beneath his torso like a forgotten dream. A whispering sound as of slow-beating wings accompanied his movements; not too loud, not too timid, not too fast. They were the sounds of calm confidence, as if he owned this place. She had to ensure that the idea to try to take it for himself didn't enter into his head. Silly girl, she chided herself. He's already thought of taking over. It's what you would do if the roles were reversed. Instead, he's doing something else. Something secret. But what? she asked herself for the thousandth time.

With fluid grace she moved across the room and sat coyly at the side of the throne, her long, green ponytail splayed out behind her. She leaned against the side of the throne, knowing it would imply that she relied on Hrada's leadership for support.

The sounds drew closer, then Morag entered the throne room. Warrada watched carefully as he crossed to stand in front of the throne. He was large and powerful. A hooded red cloak concealed his features, save only the narrow, slitted eyes that burned with hate and raw power. One of the few true Core Magi, he wore bone armor made in the fashions of Cald and d'Resh, but his magics were as slippery as those of any Orothean. Warrada was uncertain whether he was one of Agram's original followers, or a Shadow Magi held so long in Agram's grip that almost all traces of his former life had left him.

Morag nodded ever so slightly to Hrada on the throne.

"You asked for me?" said Morag. Actually, he had been summoned; summoned by Hrada, who had taken to calling himself the Dark Czar. Warrada noted that Morag avoided using the term 'summoned,' which of course carried the implication that he was the junior partner of the remaining Core commanders. He had deep pride, this one did, but he'd seen Zet fall before the twins, and he was too clever to repeat Zet's mistake. That made him all the more dangerous.

"Yes," said Hrada simply. And, Warrada noted with an inward sigh, without authority. She had much to teach Hrada about being a leader. Perhaps too much. Warrada began toying with her hair to distract Morag; hopefully he wouldn't notice Hrada's foibles.

"We are going to strike back in revenge," continued Hrada, "and sack Naroom for all the wrongs they have done to us."

"All the wrongs?" asked Morag wryly. "Wrongs like what? Defending themselves?"

"Why, Morag," said Warrada, faking a believable tone of approval, "you've got a sentimental streak."

Morag laughed, a hollow, resonant sound. "Of course not," he said. "I hate the whole of the Moonlands, and I want to see them all burn beneath my heel. But I don't have to twist their actions to hate them; I simply hate what they are. I hate that they are happy, I hate that they are on the surface, I hate that they are still alive. Unlike you, Hrada, I do not try to justify my motives behind pathetic weakling surface-dwelling concepts like 'revenge' for 'wrongs.' My hate needs no words for crutches. Are your motives so pure?"

"Words can be as powerful as dreams," said Hrada, unconsciously quoting his sister, "for they can sap your enemy's will to fight against you even as you strike."

"And we will strike," nudged Warrada, trying to steer the other two away from a direct confrontation.

"Indeed we will," said Hrada proudly. "It is time for the Core to rise. It is time to conquer the Moonlands."

"It's been tried," said Morag reservedly. "And not with the best of results."

"Ah, but we shall not make the same mistake that Agram did," said Hrada, presenting Warrada's strategy as if it were his own. "Agram reached for the whole pack of eebits, and they eluded his grasp. He tried to seize five regions at once, and failed in them all. We shall concentrate our force into one devastating blow. A single overwhelming strike on a single region." He paused, then added, "We shall strike at Naroom."

"Why there?" asked Morag. Simply because he'd asked, Warrada could tell that his interest had been piqued.

"It has long been the leading region of the Moonlands," answered Hrada. "The other regions look to them for guidance and confidence. Most recently, they sheltered and trained the young Kyrus, who defeated Agram and caused us such pain. But now Kyrus is gone, and we can strike back. We shall attack them, burn the forest, and scatter their people. This bold stroke will strike fear into the hearts of our enemies."

"And with the knowledge of the Great Library in our hands," purred Warrada, "we shall topple the rest of the regions, one by one. Without Naroom, they will be unable to mount a unified defense."

Morag contemplated this for a moment. He raised a hand to scratch his chin, but so deep was the darkness under his hood that Warrada could not even tell if there was a chin in there to be scratched. She wondered if there was indeed nothing left but his baleful eyes, and the gesture was a remnant of earlier days, days lost to time three thousand years ago.

"I... like it," said Morag. "But I can't help but wonder if your motivations are less strategic and more... personal?"

"Strategic, yes, for when we defeat the greatest region, the others will be easy," said Hrada easily. "As for personal reasons, yes, they are there, but they did not make the decision, they only reinforce it. Besides, aren't you the one who says that personal reasons are the most pure?"

"Indeed I am," said Morag, nodding again, deeper this time than last. "And it makes me happiest when personal vendettas fall neatly in line with strategic needs. Nevertheless, destroying Naroom is no small feat. They do not have our strength, but they have superior numbers. They have Eidon, and Salafy, his protégé. Orwin is a respectable foe, and they have Yaki and Tryn..."

"Plus there's Poad..." added Hrada. Warrada turned her head so that Morag wouldn't see her roll her eyes.

"Pshht!" said the Core Magi. "I could kick that runt over the head of an ormagon. The question is, do we have enough? We have the two of you, and me. The other Shadow Magi have fled, and you drove off Zet and Korg. Nagsis has vanished without a trace, and we haven't seen Togoth since Kyrus collapsed his geyser--sorry, his 'Core-rupted Inter-Regional Darkness Projector and Transport Access Gate.'"

While Hrada chuckled at Morag's imitation of Togoth, Warrada noted, much to her annoyance, that Morag had made no mention of Agram's fate. He had, in fact, never referred to Agram by name...

"We may be three," said Hrada firmly, "but we are enough."

"Indeed we are," added Warrada, "but there is also a fourth..." And so saying, she pulled out a black jellybean and rolled it in her fingers.

---

"One by one, we raised our shadow geysers," said Hrada as he stalked back and forth in the chamber that had served as Agram's headquarters. "One by one, they started to convert the lands around them into beautiful ashen areas, lush with thorns and bracken. And one by one, the geysers were all destroyed by that savage little Kyros! Worse yet, he took down our leader, and now Agram is defeated and trapped back in the dark heart of the Core!" Hrada slammed his fist into the wall, and cracks flared out in the rock from where his knuckles hit.

"Indeed," said Warrada from her seat at the huge meeting table. "But now Kyros has left the Moonlands."

"Eh?" shouted Hrada, who hated being interrupted in the middle of a good tantrum. "How do you know that?"

"I have my ways," mused Warrada quietly, as she idly spun a black jellybean on the polished tabletop.

Hrada paced back and forth a few times, working back up to his lather. "So he's left, has he?" grumbled Hrada. "Now I won't even get the pleasure of blasting him in revenge! That sneaky little inconsiderate jerk! He leaves me with nothing!!!"

Warrada winced ever so slightly. Sometimes manipulation seemed like much more work than it was worth. "And I thought he'd stay in Naroom," nudged Warrada gently.

"Naroom," Hrada growled, "they are the cause of all our misfortunes, especially recently. They harbored this Kyros--at least they say he was Kyros--driving off Korg and Zet before he could be captured. They re-taught Kyros the lessons he was missing. They gave him a base to work from as he foiled our plans one by one. I HATE NAROOOOOOOM!"

"So do I," said Warrada quietly. "They have so much knowledge."

"It seems to me they've been the center of things for too long," said Hrada.

"Oh, I agree," Warrada purred. "They defeated Agram, and they think we are defeated too. But you know better. They should be punished for their insolence."

"They should. And we shall do it. Now, when they least expect it, we should attack Naroom!" said Hrada with a gloat.

"An excellent idea," Warrada bubbled with a tone that was entirely believable. "And who better to punish them for their interference than you, dear brother?"

"Yessss!" hissed Hrada, his arms outspread and his eyes wide with malicious delight. "I can see it now! We'll use the old geyser's site for our gateway; it'll be easier there, because it's already been touched by our magic. We'll boil up from the Core and storm the woods! We'll swarm over everything and put the whole forest to the torch, a pyre to touch the sky! BWAH HAH HAH HAAAAA! (cough cough)"

"Hrada, dear," said Warrrada, "please don't burn the Great Library. There are so many secrets there..."

"Eh? What?" blurted Hrada. Getting interrupted twice in one day was more than any overlord should have to deal with.

"I want the Great Library," repeated Warrada.

"Of course," promised Hrada. "And you shall have it. "Anything to keep my sister happy.

"Given what we've already learned from Evu," he added, talking to himself, "taking the Library itself shall give us unbelievable power!"

---

Weapons of Darkness, Part 3 by Matt Deffer and Edward Bolme Read Part 2 "Blade of Grass"

"I win again!" Qwade shouted at Orthea. They floated in the still water of the deep sea. An underwater volcano added a reddish tint to the light and warmed the water. It was a favorite spot for young Magi to practice conjuring and challenge each other to games of skill.

Qwade floated with his five octopus-like legs fanned out beneath him. He grinned at Orthea. Orthea's bright red hair soaked the color from the volcano and seemed to become a ring of fire around her head. She floated on her back so she could get the most heat. Her blue tail lazily moved in the odd current to keep her in place. Her head hung down facing Qwade so that he appeared upside-down when she looked.

"I won, so now you have to get me something to eat!" Qwade crossed his arms across his chest and stuck his tongue out at Orthea. She returned the gesture then rolled over to warm her stomach. She rested her head on her crossed arms.

"No I don't, you cheated!"

"I did not, I won! You have to do what I say!" Qwade yelled and swam closer to Orthea.

"Oh yeah? I bet you're hiding something!" Orthea huffed and spun so that she faced Qwade with her tail pointed down towards the sea floor.

"Am not!"

"Prove it!" Orthea pointed at Qwade's tentacles.

"I don't have to, I'm the winner. Go suck on a sea slug!" Qwade's tentacles wound around each other beneath him.

"I'll never play with you again and I'll tell everyone you're a cheater unless you show me you're not hiding anything," Orthea placed her hands on her hips.

"Fine, fine, if you're going to be a whiny little girl!" Qwade lifted his tentacles one at a time to show her the empty suckers underneath.

"That's not fair, you have to show all of them at once!"

"You’re stalling! Now do what I say," Qwade pouted.

"No!"

"If you don't, I'll--"

"You'll what?" Orthea swam up close to Qwade so that her nose nearly touched his. Qwade growled and flashed his teeth at Orthea.

"Orthea, Qwade, what's going on here?" An old Magi with bluish-purple hair and a crown of red and blue coral raised an eyebrow at the two quarreling. He leaned a twisting trident of green and brown coral but his eyes shone with a strength that made the two quiet immediately and back away from each other. After a moment, Qwade inched closer to the Magi. His voice trembled ever so slightly when he spoke.

"Elder Mobis, Orthea won't do what I say! She never listens to me no matter how often I prove I'm better than her. She's jealous she's not as good as me!"

"He's a shellhead and he cheats every game! He's hiding something under his tentacles right now!"

"Am not! I already let her look and she didn't find anything. She has to listen to me, tell her to respect her betters."

Mobis sighed. He frowned at the two young Magi.

"You little ones need to learn to work together. Soon, you'll both be called to use your talents to protect Orothe. How can you guard your family and your friends if you bicker over meaningless trifles?" Mobis raked his gaze across the two.

"You, Orthea, I'm especially disappointed with," he said. Orthea could see Qwade behind Mobis waggle his fingers in front of his nose at her. "You are older and have trained more... diligently. There is no respect to be had in picking on Qwade; he is difficult enough without you and Ebylon constantly trying to show him up."

"What?" Qwade blushed and grabbed Mobis's arm. It was Orthea's turn to make faces at him.

"They only beat me when they work together... and then only if they surprise me and I'm tired from all the important things I do. They can't stand the fact everyone looks up to me. Sometimes I just let them win so they don't cry like the children they are. Obviously they couldn't really..."

Mobis raised a baleful eyebrow at Qwade. Qwade let go of his arm.

"I mean, well, you know what I mean," Qwade puffed out his chest and swam to float next to Orthea.

"See? He's always like that, it's impossible to be nice to him or he thinks you want to be his slave!" Orthea huffed. "He's not even brave enough to walk on land!"

"Am too! I learned way before you and got bored with it because only barnacle-brains would want to go up on land," Qwade shouted, the color in his face rising until he nearly glowed.

"Everybody knows he's the only one who doesn't go up to see the Naroom carnival in spring."

"I just don't want to, it's so dry up there, and the Naroom Magi are so ugly," Qwade said with his eyes cast towards the ground.

"You're the ugly one, Qwade!" spat Orthea.

"Beauty is skin deep, but true power comes from within," said Qwade haughtily.

"That's 'true beauty comes from within,' stupidhead!" countered Orthea. "You can't even get that right, and you never will, because you're ugly inside and out!" Then she turned and started to swim away.

"Did you hear that?" Qwade asked Mobis angrily. "Make her take it back! Make her say I'm not ugly!"

Mobis started to open his mouth, then paused, then turned and slowly swam over to where Orthea sulked.

The two spoke for a few moments, then Orthea turned to Qwade and yelled, "Mobis says I should be nice to you so you won't cry! But you're just an ugly spoiled brat! You're head's so swollen I wish it would make you fly away to Arderial and never bother us again!" Then she turned and swam away as fast as she could.

Mobis shook his head and followed her, leaving Qwade alone by the volcanic vent.

Qwade let his arm drop and fought back the tears.

"Maybe..." he said, "maybe that's just what I'll do."

* * * * *

Qwade looked back toward his home from just off the coast of Naroom. He carried a staff of blue coral and elegantly twisted driftwood. On a belt of knotted seaweed hung a bag that carried some food and large flask of seawater.

"Think I'm ugly? I'll show you. I'll get back at you all. Especially you, Orthea. You couldn't just treat me right, you were jealous of my power. True power lies within, not in a pretty face. How could any of them give me the respect I deserve when you keep mocking my looks? I'll punish you until you learn proper manners, and then I'll make Mobis lock you up in Hubdra's Cube in front of everybody for being so... for being so... so mean!" Qwade shook a fist at the rippling ocean, "All of Orothe will pay for not respecting me!" Qwade looked up the beach towards the huge trees of the Naroom forest and said, "I just hope that any pathetic locals will know how important I am."

Qwade started out of the water. When he was far enough up the beach that the water only touched his lower waist he stopped and looked at the forest looming just beyond the sand. He smacked his lips and looked back across the rippling ocean.

"I see they were all too afraid of me to bid me farewell. Hmph. I'll search the drylands, and reveal my true greatness to whomever I meet. And then I'll be back, I'll come back and everyone will see that I am the best Magi that ever was and they'll carry me in parades and feed me and beg to do as I say."

He stopped at the edge of the forest and looked one last time at the waves lapping against the shore. He took a step towards the water. He squared his shoulders then turned and slithered into the shadows between the trees.

Unseen behind him, Bria floated in the surf and watched his departure, tears in her eyes.

* * * * *

Two shadows stepped out of the trees by the beach. Light brown strips of cloth wrapped their legs and feet. The rest of their clothing was dark; even their skin was green so that they seemed a part of the forest. The woman had long green hair that reached past her waist and covered her eyes. The man covered his lower face with a dark green cloth. Their eyes glowed an evil yellow in the dim light. They looked at each other, and their cold snickering sounded like a snake slithering across leaves. They disappeared down the path behind Qwade, silent as the onset of night.

They followed him easily. His broad lower body forced him to go around most of the trees. He wasn't used to traveling on land so he often tried to force his way through underbrush thinking that it would move gently aside like the soft seaweed he was used to. He was sitting with his back against a tree looking thoroughly miserable when they caught up to him. His flask sat nearly empty on the ground and his satchel of food rested in a nook between the roots of the tree.

"Why doesn't someone help me? I am the great Qwade, those wicked Naroomese are hiding nearby and won't help me because they're jealous, too! Just like Orthea. I bet they want me to starve in this dirty forest. They'll pay too," Qwade scratched his jaw and grumbled. He stuffed a seaweed cake into his mouth and fished around in his satchel for another. The empty bag clung to his hand as he tried to pull it out. He flailed his hand, and the bag flew off and landed beside the tree. He glared at it.

"No matter, I'll simply get food from the next Magi I come across. If I find one of those stupid Naroomese, I'll teach him I'm not to be trifled with. He'll beg to give me whatever I desire! And if he doesn't... well, I'll make sure he never forgets his mistake," Qwade chuckled. He looked behind him at the tree and patted it with his hands, imagining it would turn into a soft bed of sea sponge. He sighed and rubbed his back against the bark, wishing it would fluff and form to him like a pillow.

"What have we here, sister?" came a hiss from directly above his head. Qwade looked up to stare directly into the glowing yellow eyes of the male. He hung upside down from a branch and his hair splayed all around his face so that for a moment Qwade thought he was going to be eaten by a horrible fuzzy forest monster. At the same moment, a young woman materialized out of the shadows facing Qwade. She made no sound, and she moved with such grace that Qwade was sure she floated across the grass. Her lips were pursed in a wicked smile that caught Qwade's eyes and wouldn't let go. He felt stuck in a trance until her hand touched his cheek. The moment shattered and he squealed and jerked his head back, bonking it into the trunk of the tree behind him.

The woman's smile widened.

"Why, brother, unless my eyes deceive, it must be the great Orothean Magi Qwade, cast out by the jealous lesser people of the sea. Look, his power shines in his eyes," the woman spoke in a whisper that reminded Qwade of the dark of a cave, mysterious and dangerous. Qwade had never liked caves.

The man back-flipped off his branch to land on his toes next to Qwade. He grabbed Qwade's jaw and forced him to look at him. Qwade grimaced under the scrutiny.

"Sister, I believe you are right. Why, he is obviously too good to be out here in the muck and dirt of this forest, we should take him home with us and treat him as he so obviously deserves," the man chuckled and let go of Qwade.

"How-- how did you know my name?" Qwade couldn't help cringing from him.

"Why, we all know your name, stories of your obvious greatness are easy to find for those with the ears to hear them," the woman lightly ran a sharp fingernail across Qwade's shoulder.

Finally, thought Qwade, people with proper manners towards their betters. And they obviously have some skills or they would not have been able to sneak up on me. They could be useful, but...

"You seem to know my reputation, but who are you?" Qwade asked as he tried to stand tall, not knowing that the tree branch above him was an unmoving as the shrubs and tree trunks. He exhaled sharply and rubbed the new bump on his head. The woman stepped so close to Qwade that he could look at nothing else.

"I am Warrada and he is my brother Hrada. We have some small power ourselves, though of course not as strong as we've heard about you," she smiled as Qwade nodded. Behind him, Hrada quietly looked through Qwade's satchel. He grimaced and shook his head at Warrada and threw the bag and Qwade's flask far back into the shadows of the forest.

"Oh no!" Warrada gasped and pointed, "Some Naroomese devils have stolen your food and water!"

Qwade whirled and stared at the place he had left his supplies. Hrada leaned casually against the trunk with his arms folded across his chest.

"My dear sister, I don't know how they could have done it, I haven't moved from this spot. Obviously they are crafty devils, it's lucky this Orothean was here or we might have been taken captive as well!" Hrada yawned.

Qwade whined, "But aren't you from Naroom as well? And what about my food?"

"Oh, we would never be part of the vile people of Naroom. We represent a band of Magi that have been wronged by people too jealous or stupid to recognize that we simply want what we deserve. Together we will force them to respect us. We've been looking for you for quite some time; the stories say you have the power to lead. But they seem too good to be true. No one could be that strong," Warrada pulled away from Qwade and hugged herself as if warding away false hopes. Under her bangs she winked at Hrada.

"No, no, everything you've heard is true," Qwade reached out to comfort Warrada, "and if you've heard it from those dirty Orotheans, it's probably not anywhere near as great as I truly am. Jealousy clouds their eyes and makes them tell ridiculous stories to bring down their betters. The best they can come up with is to say I'm ugly," added Qwade grumpily.

"Oh, you must come with us," she replied. "We'll give you a comfortable place to rest and all the food you desire," Warrada extended a hand to Qwade and smiled, revealing a pair of wickedly pointed fangs. Qwade nearly flinched but managed to hold still.

"But if you're not from Naroom, where are you from? And what are you doing here?" Qwade's eyes narrowed. He pulled himself to his full height. One of his legs slowly reached and coiled around his staff.

"The Core, of course," Hrada stepped away from the tree to stand next to his sister, "Where else would we be welcome. Don't you see? All the Magi up here are too selfish, too jealous to treat you like you deserve. And, as my dear sister said, we've come to find you."

"But the Core is evil. The stories of Agram..." Qwade shivered. Faster than the twins could react he tossed his staff from his tentacle to his hands and spun it into a horizontal bar between him and the twins.

"Oh, Qwade, how misinformed you are. Those are silly tales told by ignorant people," Warrada said as she and Hrada slowly moved apart. Qwade's eyes darted between them and he pushed back against the tree. Above his mask, Hrada's narrow eyes grinned at Qwade.

"These Magi just want to keep you from getting what you deserve, and the power of the Core can give you that," Warrada reached past Qwade's staff to rest lightly on his forearm. The warmth in her hand surprised him and he relaxed in spite of himself, "Why else would they tell a Magi as powerful as you to beware the Core? What have you to fear? They are selfishly trying to keep that power for themselves so that you will never get the respect you deserve."

Qwade nodded and let go of the staff with one hand and rested the tip on the ground so that it stood up straight next to him. He looked up at the sky; it was all coming together for him. He would go to the Core and lead these poor people to victory over Orothe and he would be treated as he should. Everyone would finally do as he said.

"Yes, yes, I see now, I knew it all along. I will help you in your time of need. It is good that I found you before those nasty Naroomese. I knew you would need my skills to lead you to victory," Qwade said and gestured all around him. Warrada giggled when Qwade's gaze fell on her, but she frowned and made a gagging gesture at Hrada as soon as he turned away.

"Now, you said something about food and a place to sleep?"

"Follow us and you'll get what you deserve."

* * * * *

"Wow, now he's ugly," said Harror as the Dark Twins brought Qwade in to meet Agram.

"You're just jealous of my power!" shouted Qwade immediately. "Just like all the rest!"

"Silence," murmured Agram, seated upon his throne, and so powerful was his bass voice that immediately all noise in the room stopped. Qwade was afraid his heart might be beating too loud.

The undisputed ruler of the Core looked at the new recruit. He cast a spell and drew the memories out of Qwade, teasing them like a fish on a line. You're the ugly one, Qwade... you're ugly inside and out. The words whispered in the air of the throne room, an echo of the painful past.

"Hmm," Agram ran a taloned hand across his chin as he looked at Qwade, "I may have something to beautify your face and let your inner power shine through," he said.

"But sir, I don't need anything, Orthea was just lying because she's jealous," Qwade growled.

"Nevertheless, I believe you deserve to have this. It's an ancient relic made by one of your forefathers, you should be proud to wear it," Agram snapped his fingers, and immediately Jalex appeared at his side, bearing a very old coral box, covered with barnacles. Agram reached in and removed a slightly curved plate that had two leaf-shaped holes, each with two red stripes painted beneath.

"It's a mask," Qwade said as Agram put it into his hands. Above the eyeholes the mask curved out to look like smooth eyebrows. Just under the jaw a ridge extended outward and five smooth triangles, like wide, dulled teeth jutted down. Qwade ran a finger across the triangles then looked closely at them.

"These... these are tentacles," Qwade touched the back of one that showed a multitude of tiny engraved circles. Agram nodded.

"That's right. It was made by one of your ancestors, one without fins. Only an Orothean with a character such as yours can use it. Now if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."

Qwade stared at Agram as he departed. His knuckles turned white where his hands gripped the mask. The muscles along his jaw stood out and he breathed heavily. Then he looked at Warrada standing coyly beside him, and he suddenly relaxed and flashed her a smile that didn't touch his eyes.

"See? Even Agram knows I deserve the best. The sooner you and the others realize it, the better. And so saying, he placed the mask on his face. It adhered to his skin with a curious sucking sound.

"Woah," said Qwade. "Is it darker in here, or is it just me?"