Like an avenging angel the Farer Walthari of Matmus-Necmus had strode into the Solar of Castle Keldrun.  "Nine of our brave soldiers of Matmus dead at the hands of the elemental dogs of this Dominion" he intoned, his volume increasing with every word.  "And a trail of blood leading to the bastion of their false gods."  Raising his arms now he was reaching a crescendo "it is time that the evil elemental faith was brought down!  Every day that we allow their celebrants to speak their black rituals we succumb to the Necmus in ourselves and in turn we shall be swallowed by his darkness!  Let us close their church and outlaw this faith!"  "We shall do nothing of the kind Farer" answered General Neimann.  "Nor shall you continue to rail against them in public.  You forget that we are grossly outnumbered here."  Walthari looked at Neimann as if he were a disease, narrowing his eyes to slits "my charge here General, is to pave the way for conversion.  If you think that we can stay the darkness by allowing Necmus free reign with the people of this country…"  General Neimann stood at this point, his patience at an end.  "I do not care what your charge is.  My charge is to hold this city until the spring, and if I have to do it by placing you in a brig aboard the Erobern until spring, then I will.  You are under the impression that we are here on a holy war of some kind.  Let me set you straight.  We are here to conquer this last.  To take it, and rape it if need be.  We are not here to hold their hands and walk them into the light.  If you are not helping us in this quest, then you are hurting us.  You cannot convert anyone if they cut you down first for insulting their gods.  Are you aware that many of them now believe that the darkness was eradicated by an avenging Domish paladin named Forcellus Blaad wielding some weapon of the Fire elemental?  This man is somewhere in this city even now, spreading these tales.  Do you think that they would prefer to believe that some angry Morit Farer did this deed by shouting down the darkness?"  Walthari fell silent, but looked fit to burst.  By the time he worked up a counter point, Neimann preempted him by continuing deliberately, his voice dripping with threat.  "Master Walthari.  This is what you will do.  You will ask any of your newly faithful, assuming that you have gathered any, for any news of Forcellus Blaad or of this fire weapon.  Tell them quietly that the weapon and it's wielder are the work of Necmus and undoubtedly helped to cause the darkness.  Tell them that we will reward any news handsomely.  Do you have that?"  Master Walthari's face became a thin veneer of quiescence trapping a boiling rage.  "There is no talking to this Necmun," thought the Farer.  "He is merely a vessel.  He carries the book, but has no idea what it says.  He thinks to win this realm with soldiers and swords.  He knows less than nothing."  The two men stared at each other in a moment of hostile silence.  Then the Farer stood, turned and walked out of the chamber.

***

Lord Tirian cradled young  Baines Cockrel's head in his hands.  He could still empathically feel the boy's fear, slowly ebbing now in death.  What a sad loss, he thought.  Who would mourn him?  He had no living parents.  No one to weep over him.  "In life, this boy was little and less" he said aloud to the brothers gathered around him in the wine cellar of the Church of Elemental Unity that served as the boy's final sanctuary and refuge.  "His life was a tiny candle that gave off little light.  But soon, very soon, we shall kindle it into a bonfire."

Next:  The Matter of Independence

I backed up to dodge the mighty swing aimed at me - only to trip against a table.  Suddenly I was looking at the ceiling.  I could hear the clash of steel against steel (and steel against stone) all around me, grunts an shuffling feet.  I could also hear the shouts of more Morits approaching in the distance from the south.  I rolled left just in time to avoid a cracking blow which sent massive splinters flying from the table, one of which flew into my right eye.  Damn it!  Damn it!  I rolled off the table and scurried under it trying to blink the shard free before the Morit's blade would be jab at me in my refuge.  A massive clump on the table startled the heck out of me.  I thought the Crazed Morit had cleft the table in two until I heard his sword clatter.  The boy had beaned him one and knocked him senseless!  This kid gets a massive tip next time.  I crawled out from under the table and was nearly stepped on by the Morit on Japes.  He was too busy to notice me or my blade as I jammed the point into the side of his boot.  He screamed and Japes cut it short with a vicious swipe to his neck.  Blood covered the both of us.  We would not be escaping here without notice.  It was then that my head cleared enough to notice that Guwek was still trading blows with the last Morit standing.  "Drop it or you're a dead man" I shouted as both Japes and I closed in.  We both knew it was an empty threat as we could hear the approaching Morits.  We could see that the bastard knew it too and had probably decided to cooperate for a short breather, pretending to contemplate dropping his sword.  Guwek took advantage of that moment and stabbed him in the stomach with impressive speed.  "Kill the others and grab the boy" he shouted.  I went quickly to the bastard who had called me out.  A shaft of lantern light illuminated his face between the tables, he was coming around and stared at me with black eyes full of fear.  I used the light to locate his neck, "for Heston Coros" I said and made a quick bloody mess of his demise.  Japes polished off the other unconscious Morit at the foot of Baines.  Guwek lifted the boy who now lay on the table in exhaustion.

Our exit was arduous.  We headed north into lower University Street, then headed east to hopefully lose our bloody track in the Market Square under the maze of buttresses.  We were all bleeding like stuck pigs.  With the Morits already up from the south, we went that way now and got to the lower entrance to old Dorcer castle.  It was perhaps our only exit from here that did not involve us pretending to be nonchalant bloody shoppers.  This exit was a last resort, as the Church was pretty much off limits.  No one wanted Morits stationed in the Church of Elemental Unity.  Now they would find this carefully hidden exit by the trail of blood we left.  Could not be helped.  It was an agonizing wait before the brothers heard our rapping and let us in, and by then little Baines, sadly, was dead.

We recuperated in the bowels of the Church.  I found out later that the Morits had scoured the underground but found no more rats.  We had killed seven Morits.  Zef Brewer and Ben the Bowyer had killed two more from their station west of the Nightshade.  They had escaped by climbing up the hidden shaft into Zane Hezler's herbalist shop and from there climbed up onto the ice canopy.  They crossed the treacherous ice in the evening twilight, dropping down into Brendan Baird's Armory, where they changed clothes and became just a couple more shoppers.

Of the twenty Morits that entered the underground, only eleven exited.  No Domish were taken alive or dead, and none did die, except for one very brave young man.

Next: A Question of Faith

Guwek Tyno, Zef Brewer, Dontley the Dirk, my buddy Japes, Ben the Bowyer and I were the ones hanging behind to harry the Morits.

Guwek and I commanded a hidden side passage near the entrance to the Shade on lower Tailor Street.  There were many support buttresses here propping up the buildings at Market Place Square.  Easy to hide behind them, then sink back into the many crawl spaces that could bring you back around to Center Street.

In position with the loaded crossbows we had hidden there and with our daggers in our teeth we could hear shouts in Moritanian echoing throughout the dark maze of the underground.  Clearly the Morits did not think that we would be surprised at their arrival, they were opting to flush us out as the vermin they thought we were.  We could hear maybe two of them walking down lower Market Street and entering the Nightshade at about the same time we heard two of them starting down Tailor st.  These last two would be passing us at any moment.  We readied ourselves.  Their voices and lantern light preceded them.  As soon as I saw one of them appear, I tagged him with a whisper to Guwek and loosed the bolt.  It entered the Morit in his ear and he dropped along with the lantern.  Guweks bolt caught the other in the shoulder.  The Morit wheeled around and screamed out our presence.  Dropping our crossbows we swung out from opposite ends of our protective beam with our knives in hand.  We caught the Morit from opposite sides skewering him from front and back.  He fell with a gurgle.  Just then we heard a high pitched scream.  We both instantly knew what it was.  It was little Baines Cockrel, the bar boy.  Damn!  Why had he not run with the others!  We immediately knew that we had to invade the Nightshade no matter what.  That boy had probably stayed to defend the only home he knew - we could not leave him to his fate.

If there was a main entrance to the Shade, it would have been the one we now ran to from under the Market Square.  You make the most noticeable entrance from here, that why no one uses it - but we didn't care.  We dashed into the main tavern hall to see three Morits battling it out with Japes and Dontley.  Poor little Baines had a nasty gash on his head and was oozing blood.  The boy was holding an Icekregg Thwack-waddy and was occasioally pelting the back of one Morit or the other from atop a table, when they were distracted distracted by knife jabs from Japes and Dontley.  The idiot Morits were swinging great swords and occasionally banging the stone buttresses and sending out sparks.

Two of the Morits had Dontley backed into a corner, one of them readying a stabbing finish.  I sent my dagger flying and would have done Jape's proud - it caught the bastard in the neck sinking him to his knees.  The other Morit came flying at me but was intercepted by Guwek who now has his short sword out.  I pulled my sword in turn and turned to Japes' foe calling out "Baines, run away" as I closed the distance, walking over a Morit body that was lying on the floor at the foot of the table Baines was standing on.  Even in that split second I saw that he had a waddy mark on his head.  "Damn!  Good hit boy!"  It was two-on-one only for a second then, as another Morit reentered the main tavern from the back room.  He shouted something in Morit that I swore was "it's you!"  It was at that moment that I recognized him from a month ago, when Japes had flung a dagger in his buddy's back.  The drunken Morits!  The look in this guys eyes would've melted steel - I resisted the temptation to yell "Japes killed your buddy - I didn't!"  No time anyway, as his giant sword swiped at me with more speed than I thought possible.

Next: A Violent Roundel (part 2)

"Of course it was an underground attack.  Forgive me sir, but as you know I have been down there.  I regret that act.  But I know they plot against us sir.  I believe they took the opportunity, sir.  Unless one can believe that seaman Naill Gotts went into the Black Horde lower tavern last night and fought it out with a tailor and a bar maid - managing to kill them both but suffer a fatal sword wound (and a nasty crack to the head) by one of those less than imposing foes, sir."  "Very well" said General Gunter Neimann wearily.  "You share a room at the Inn with seaman Gotts do you not?"  "Yes sir.  We parted company when he went to the head sir.  He never came back to the room that I know of, I feel asleep fast, sir."  "Thank you Seaman Zaker.  That is all."

After he left, the General called in the Major.  Major Adalgar gave a crisp salute, and tried to look calm.  He knew that he was in for it this time.  Another dead Morit.  General sat quietly and stared at the Major for awhile.  Finally he spoke.  "Major, we are going on a rat hunt."  "Sir?"  "Just listen Major, don't speak." "Yes…" he started, then swallowed the "sir."  "I want you to pick twenty men from the Erobern that are not afraid of the dark.  Use this Zaker too, he knows the place.  I will speak to General Ekhard.  Their orders are to contain the underground rats and attempt to exterminate them before this "Keldrun's Hill day" is upon us.  I do not want rats in the cellar when we have guests.  Do you understand?"  The Major looked reluctant to speak, but the General's pointed look urged him on.  "Yes… sir.  I understand.  Are they to be stationed there afterward?"  "No" said the General.  "Hopefully there will be no more rats to trap after that.  Isn't there some way to flood that damn hole before the spring?" he said thinking aloud.  "I don't think so sir, I…"  "I know there isn't you idiot" the General snapped.  "Just get me those men.  Dismissed.  Get out of my sight!"  The Major quickly saluted, turned and exited the room in a flash.

*****

I knew something was up.  A few too many Morit soldiers hanging around the Armory Bridge that afternoon.  We expected it at some point after the incident with the lantern.  I didn't really know Nick very well, whose burnt body was discovered alongside the broken lantern that wasn't his.  He had been stabbed with a longsword.  Morit work I was sure.  Then we heard about Tuila and old Ben.  There seemed to be a raft of city murders lately with those two found frozen near the north docks.  So we were on heavier watch.

The rest were in the Shade. Prince Karsh and Zef had gone, slipping out of the city circling the frozen edge of Lake Efrem.  Forcellus was talking about the castle passage revealed by Jed Brewer, and how it led to the guard tower.  We'd have to make it past a Morit garrison, entering single file into a room where many could pick us off one at a time.  There was another underground Castle Keldrun entrance, but it had been sealed off during King Orsan's reign and would require massive excavation in frozen ground to reopen. "Both will require more thought" said Forcellus as Ben the Bowyer burst into the room.  "They're coming!" he shouted.  "From the north and the south."   Ten Morit soldiers were entering from bridge entrances in both directions, and more were stationed above ground in the central city to catch those fleeing.  Our practiced plan was that many of us would escape to the surface using the hidden exits such as the one into the lockshop.  Some of us would hide below and make sure that we took a few Morits out before we too escaped.

Next: A Violent Roundel

"It would be a direct violation of orders" thought Naill Gotts as he drained the last of his ale.  "We shouldn't even be here, much less out there."  But he slammed the heavy glass aggressively down onto the table and shouted, "another!" in accented Domish.  He and his new friend Seaman Hans Zaker were sitting in the lower tavern of the Black Horde Inn.  It was around midnight and in the small bar there remained only drunk Ben the tailor avoiding the cold trip to the outer city, and Tuila the bar maid who was alone at that hour pulling and serving ale to the last hangers on.  Upstairs in the main tavern, the party was still hopping, though on it's last leg. The man sitting opposite Naill at the table stared at him and repeated his plea "Naill, my friend, I owe it to you to show you the real life in this shit town."  Seaman Hans Zaker leaned in an inch from Naill's nose.  "There is gold and women to be had from cowards that cannot complain because they are thieves and murderers themselves" he hissed.  Naill was the larger of the two men, yet it was Zaker who held sway between them.  Naill desperately wanted to be perceived as being as tough as his exterior proclaimed, but he was worn down by so much hate directed at him by so many Domish.  He wanted to be home.  Even many of the other Morits disliked him for his size, his red mane of hair and his northern Castig accent.  Zaker seemed to be his only friend.  And so he drank the courage to match his friend's expectations.  His head swimming he finally looked up and said,"Let's go rip some Domish".

Zaker immediately stood and took Niall's ale just brought by the wench.  He downed half of it, and jabbed it at Naill.  Then he turned and grabbed the wench by the hair head and licked her face.  She recoiled and he pushed her down onto the floor.  He promptly turned and stalked toward the door leading out to the underground, Naill in tow.

"Follow me" Zaker whispered as they entered the darkness, carefully sealing the door behind them.  "Pull your sword and get ready to stick anything that moves".  Zaker then set down his sword and started fiddling with a lantern.  Nail stood by, sword in hand.  Zaler barely got the lantern lit when suddenly there was a noise.  In his surprise, Zaker threw the lantern and managed to squarely hit a retreating figure.  Burning oil sizzled hair and the figure began to flail it's arms and curse.   Zaker grabbed Naill's sword out of his hand and closed the distance like a shot jamming the blade cleanly in and out of the man's back and leather jerkin.  The man fell forward.  "No" said Naill.  "We should not have done this."  Zaker turned "No, you are right, we shouldn't.  Let's go back.  Grab my sword."  Zaker then moved back to the Inn.  He wrenched open the door. The bar maid stared at him, her face wide with fear.  Old Ben Tailor hadn't even moved, he had fallen asleep.  Turning, the bar maid was heading for the stairs to the main tavern, when Zaker flung Naill's sword at her catching her in the shoulder.  She swooned and hit the floor with a crash taking a chair with her.  Naill stood in shock as Zaker crossed the room and finished her with the sword.  "Don't worry, Naill, no one heard anything" he said to the look of panic on Naill's face.  They could both hear the main tavern above them, just up the stairs.  Even at this hour there was a few "Festival Moon" revelers still making merry.  "And he's still asleep" he said motioning toward Ben.  As Naill turned to look at the old tailor, Zaker picked up a bar glass.  "We should not have done this" said Naill turning to Zaker.  "We didn't" he said as he brought the glass crashing down on Naill's head.  "You did".

Next: The Cleanup

We met nightly in the Shade.  That night's big topic was the moon.  We could finally see it again.  The glorious but brief clearing of a month ago had lasted only one day.  But now we all knew that the "midwinter moon" clearing would commence.  It was the same every year, for a month at midwinter it was as if the elements all acted in the interest of the Festival.  It was immediately decided that we would attempt to meet up en route with the provincial retinues that might be descending upon the city any day now and hopefully gird them for more than just games and fun.  We were planning a very special Festival of Lights this year.

"I will leave the city and journey to Fortan" said Karsh to looks of concern.  "I have just enough time to urge them to gather more than revelers if I act fast.  I intend to bring back the Fortan Army.  I know that they will not succeed alone, so we must gather our resources to insure a victory.  There are only two laws that prevent the Fortan army from entering the city during the festival, the old Dom Triplo law forbidding it - which, as acting sovereign I hereby abolish, and the current Morit proclamation, which we do not recognize.  I feel that the only way to insure that the Fortans will march is if I myself go and order them to do it."  There was uneasy agreement.  He went on, "let us all realize that the attendance at this festival may be light.  It may be non-existent.  Festival-goers are looking for a glorious time, sport and amusement.  They are not looking for their heads to be mounted onto spikes.  They may just plan on coming next year instead, if there is a next year.  So we must do everything that we can to get people here in droves.  The Morits cannot be everywhere at once, and crowds will make them nervous."  "A recipe for bloodshed and chaos" muttered Efrem Dorcer of the Bailey.  "True" answered Prince Karsh.  "But this is our greatest opportunity until next spring, when the Morits will undoubtedly reinforce, and there will be even more bloodshed and chaos."  Old Dorcer decided to play a contrary role then, and smirked "do you expect festival goers to take up arms?"  Karsh turned to him.  He knew old Efrem Dorcer, and knew that few were more patriotic than he.  He was asking the questions that the others dare not.  "Master Dorcer, did you happen to catch the Castan-Blaad Icekregg battle last year?  Would you want to face down captain Grata Halvos holding a thwack-waddy?"  The room laughed at the image.  But they all reserved the doubt; "what if the Castans take a break this year?"

By the time the meeting broke up that evening, it was decided that Prince Karsh would go to Fortan to court troops, and Zef Zavras would try to intercept the Blaad and/or Castan revelers on their way, or at least find out IF they were on their way.  Commander Forcellus would direct the DOM forces, such as they were, and try to recruit more as quietly as possible. 

The underground became our staging area.  Forcellus had us conduct drills to evacuate as quickly as possible.  We set up guards and relays, secret murder holes and crude killing chambers just in case the Morits decided to stage an invasion of our rat-infested turf before we could flee.  One of our newer recruits, Zeph Brewer (who is the son of proprietor Hezbus Brewer of the Inn of the Bleeding Sore) had been a Castle Guard at one time (before his elder brother died in a beer barrel accident causing Zeph to leave the Guard to learn his father's trade).  Zeph described to us a secret tunnel that led from the old Castle Dorcer (now the church) to an old underground passage in Castle Keldrun.  This would have to be fully explored at some point soon.

Next: A Malicious Attack

Funny things happen to men confined below decks on an icy ship for months.  The sailors only came on deck to remove the snow that regularly piled up and to knock ice from the shrouds.  The Commodore, General Ekhard, was rarely aboard ship, and this became a great subject of contention.  It didn't help that the soldier-sailors crammed into the cramped quarters of the ship were singled out as possible trouble-makers.  It wasn't that they wouldn't obey orders, of course.  If that were the case, they would simply be hung.  It was that they proved too quick to anger and lacked any compassion for the citizenry.  As the Domish midwinter Festival approached, many of these men would have to be brought in to provide additional security, despite their dispositions.

Hans Zaker was angry.  Very angry.  His pride was all-important to him, and his pride had seriously been damaged during a certain drunken ruckus in an underground tavern.  He had been relieved from guard duty in Dorgat and sent to the ship.  It had been a sweet post watching the Black Horde Inn and the streets surrounding it.  He had not specifically been warned to keep away from Underground taverns, and Major Adalgar, the officer in charge, actually lied and said that he had been warned.  Calling the Major a liar would have cost him more than just a few lashes and a trip back to the ship, and so he said nothing.  He was angry at the Major, but he was even angrier that he had been made a fool by a cocksure Domish sneak thief.  And he was filled with absolute rage that Kulm, his big friend and one of his Morit brothers-in-arms finally died from the Domish dagger that had been flung into his back by a Domish coward hiding in the darkness of the Nightshade tavern.  So when Hans Zaker was added to the active list of the Festival Guard and transferred to the city in advance, he played the part of the repentant soldier and began to plot his revenge.

Seaman Zaker was a dark-haired Southern Morit.  He was not large, but he made up for it in steel-eyed coldness.  He could hide his emotions well, and had - convincing the Morit Navy that he was not the reckless killer that he had been in the Morit capitol.  He hated the northern "Ginger Morits" and clearly recognized in the Castans that DOM had a large degree of Ginger blood mixed in.  Still, he was quick to make friends when it suited him.  He could be charming when he chose to be.  He killed the father he resented with every smile or every stab, it did not matter which.

His first victims had been taken while he was on a watch a week before his ship confinement.  He had walked past the University and out of the Orsan Bar Gate leading him to the Orsan Dock just before dawn.  He could see the lanterns of Norgat across the Dorcer River and had a view of the bridge to the west leading out of the city.  While there, he heard the sound of voices.  He saw two figures huddled together in a corner of the castle wall, sheltered by a nich in the stonework.  They were bundled against the cold.  He quietly pulled his sword.  He walked slowly over to them.  He was going to frighten them into the river if he could.  No one would hear them yelling from here.  If they ran back into the city and screamed, who would care?  He'd say they had no business there - which they didn't.  As he got close, they both looked up.  Have a copper, brother?  One of them said.   "A gazette?"  The lantern light from the bridge lit them just enough for him to see their faces.  The light also formed a perfect line across their craning necks.  He simply could not stop himself from attempting to strike at both of those necks simletaneously with one swift, violent stroke.

Next: A Break in the Weather

The General and the Commodore stared at one another across the top of the gatehouse.  Between them stood King Lythe Methelin Petros II and gathered below stood a great throng of the cities population.

Two nights before, they had sat in the solar above the Castle Keldrun great hall.  A giant fire raging in the hearth.  Commanding General Gunter Neimann had held a glass aloft "to Almighty Emperor Herzogun" he proclaimed.  Commodore Ekhard of the Greatcog Erobern matched his proclamation and their glasses collided.  Back home it had been the festival of Winternights marking the beginning of winter.  The great hearth fire was all they would see of the great Morit Balpyre at home, whose flames were said to reach one hundred feet or more, bright enough to keep the Necmus away during the long cruel winter.  General Neimann had suggested constructing a great fire in the center of the city, but was advised against it as being "innappropriate" to celebrate a Morit holiday in the conquered city.  Unfortunately, he did not clearly pass this advise down to Major Adalgar, who had decided that the men needed a bit of a morale boost.  So as the two generals sat and celebrated, small eruptions of celebration were simultaneously taking place in Dorgat, in guard halls, and the commandeered Inn of the Bailey.  The next day, the outrage of the central city was palpable.  Their Midwinter Festival had been canceled by the Morits "out of respect for the dead that succumbed to the darkness" had been the official excuse.  The city felt the shame of delivery from the darkkness by the Morits, and so provided little complaint at the loss of their greatest holiday for the year.  But now, the Morits had violated that solemn loss by celebrating their own holiday.
Major Adalgar suffered another blistering dressing down by General Neimann, and the General decided to March out King Lythe II and have him calm the city.  He would have the King explain that these fires were necessary to keep the Necmus at bay.  He'd get that damn Farer Walthari to make a few religious pronouncements too, hold up his hands, dance a bit if he thought it would help. "We will offer them a small carrot while keeping them shamed into submission" he thought.
When all were gathered, the King strode forward to the edge of the parapet at the top of the gatehouse 30 feet above the people below and began to speak. 

****

Guwek Tyno and I stood there in the market square when the King spoke from above. I was hoping that he would break out and demand open rebellion from the Morits.  Scream out "avenge me!" and jump, but he didn't.  It was obvious to all that his speech was inspired by the Morits, and was intended to keep the peace by explaining that the darkness needed to be kept away by their fires and etcetera.  He did say one thing that cheered people a little, the canopy would be built, and there would be a very small Festival of Lights.  "For the inner city only".  Everyone waited for an Icekregg announcement, but it did not come.  One part of his speech apparently passed over my head, but was explained to me later as a "hidden message".  The king had said "We must become the allies of our deliverers as were the allies of the great Jastral Fane - we must help them carry the torch that lights our way through the darkness."  Sounded grand to me, probably sounded grand to them especially as they were in the castle that Keldrun Fane built.  But apparently Jastral Fane was a traitor to the kingdom and his allies were the Orogs.  Jastral Fane detested the Orogs and only used them and eventually led many of them to slaughter.  The king was telling us that these Morits are not our friends, they detest us too and will happily lead us to slaughter.  Nothing I didn't already know.

Next: A Bloody Incident

During the warmer seasons there is an army of boys that attack the merchant caravans at the city gates.  They hawk their services for cleaning, loading and unloading.  They hire on for guides within the city for those new to DOM.  They fetch and carry and upon occasion, steal.  This youthful army seeks cover during the sparser colder months.  That would be a little less the case this year. 

Ten boys hand picked as probably most honest were gathered in a frozen field not far from Janos Desin's farm.  Standing before them was an eager young man named Tomas Ravenhurst, the son of a soldier killed by the Morits.  The lad was hired by Lord Forcellus who knew his father, but the boy had not recognized him.  "Best that way" he had thought.  Wearing a rusted DOM Guard helmet to obscure his face, Ravenhurst announced to the younger boys "I will offer each of you one gazette coin a day" (worth half a copper to any foreigners reading this)" and the gratitude of the DOM Guard to tell merchants leaving the city that due to the Morit occupation, revelers coming to the city for the Midwinter Festival of Lights will only be allowed in after Keldrun's Hill Day."  This would have the revelers arriving only one day before the Khost and Icekregg contest sign ups.  It would be bedlam.  I want to see the Morits try to prevent fifty angry Castans from signing up for Icekregg, or from getting a drink at the Bleeding Sore for that matter.  Ravenhurst continued "Tell them that the Morit announced 'ban' on the Festival is only to keep the numbers down."  Naturally that would mean to the revelers that their teams would have an easier time winning in Khost and Icekregg, and they would actually pad their numbers with those wishing to share in the glory of victory.  Off the boys ran, clutching 20 gazettes each, one for each of the twenty days they were asked to contact the merchants.  As it turned out, these boys did the job well past the 20 days.  They continued doing it right up until Keldrun's Hill day.  Even after one of them was caught.  These boys became a bit famous later as "Ravenhurst's army" but I'm getting way ahead of myself.

I knew Forcellus felt bad about using these boys, but knew that to hang a boy for trying to earn a gazette would not endear the Morits to DOM, and they would doubtless only interrogate them if they found out what they were doing.  In any case, they were told to rat out Ravenhurst if they were caught.  Let the Morits try to find some DOM youth in a rusted helmet.

****

"The Festival of Lights cannot be accomplished without Zanzibar" said Prior Arabas.  "We need an Energeticist."  "We have one" countered Tirian.  "Veltek is also in the city."  "Both of you will be arrested if they find out that you are here."  "Then we must hope that they do not discover us until after the light is ignited.  After that, it will hopefully make no difference.   They will then have more to worry about than me.  Just proceed as normal.  Have the sculptors start on the canopy.  Tell the Morits that it must be done or there will be ice cave ins."  This actually would be a danger if some amount of removal was not accomplished.  Especially with the prodigious amount of winter weather falling from the sky.  The buildings in the center city nearly touch at the top from leaning in various places.  Happens when you put heavy buildings on a small island.  Snow and ice gather at the top and merge the buildings together forming a 'roof' or canopy of ice.  If not removed, or at least lessened the ice could break and rain down.  The tradition is to carve it into a beautiful clear ice dome.  Add light from massive Energetics, and you have the Festival of Lights.

Next: The Hidden Message

The Morits finally realized that to maintain underground bridge guards was proving too costly.  Instead they began stationing guards only near above-ground exits.  This meant at least one Morit guard in the upper taverns with a lower entrance. This would have been disastrous for us had the underground not had more entrances than a goblin warren.  One of my favorite entrances that I was loath to give up even to Lord Forcellus was a crawlspace from Hiram's Lock Shop on Tanner Street across from the Red Fist Inn.  I felt like I was betraying the Veil by revealing it, but heck - war is war.  It was through that entrance that our distinguished party (sans Tirian who had gone to church) entered the underground and headed for the Shade.  Mr. Felemer had closed part of the place for a "clean up" after a "grisly death" that supposedly occurred that morning.  As few frequented the place in the hours better used for vomiting up the night before, few would question the story.  Besides, no one would want suspicion brought down upon them.  Of course there was no death, I had told Felemer that "very important guests needed a place to meet up."  "How important - and how rich?" he had growled back at me.  "Very important.  Very REGALLY important." That shut the old guy up.  Lucky for us he's a patriot, for regal these days meant NOT rich.  I know I'm gonna get free drinks out of this anyway.

We had decided that we would take over the underground.  There was no other central location from which we could conduct a resistance that would not be observed by the Morits.  We might be rats in a hole, we knew, but we preferred to think of ourselves as "Kamulan Orogs" if you know the reference.  (I didn't - until Forcellus told me about the Orog underground city of Kamul, where to venture in as an enemy meant never to venture out again.)  "Still, we must not announce our presence here" Prince Karsh had said.  "The Morits must think us only rogues and drunkards."  Done and done, I thought.  At least for me.

Prince Karsh stood before the gathered group.  The large hall was interrupted with large supporting beams holding up the street above the dank room.  There were seventeen of us gathered, adding to our usual group; Zefs' father Eli Zavras of the Black Font, Tamra Fortan of the Black Font, Mr. Bradbury Gatts of the the Black Horde Inn, Efrem Dorcer of the Bailey and the Paternals, Kayber Keskos of the Veil, the armorer Brenden Baird, Zane Henzler the Alchemist, and my buddy Japes.   I would like to convey the look on Jape's face when I introduced him to the prince - let's just say I got considerable respect out of it.

"We are all here to plan a party" began the Prince.  I was not alone in thinking that maybe he was drunk until he explained.  "The way to turn the population back from grieving over the darkness is to do what we have always done in midwinter.  We must insure that the Midwinter Festival goes on as originally planned."  "The Morits have cancelled the festival and plan to turn away any revelers that arrive" said Efrem Dorcer of the Bailey.  "That is why we must have it, said Prince Karsh.  "We need those revelers.  We need the city to demand their festival.  During the festival, we will announce the removal of the darkness and reveal the truth of it's demise.  The Morits will not have enough men to stop the whole kingdom.  We simply need to manage the arrival of the guests as best we can so that they arrive at the same time.  It will be hard to turn away that many if they want in." The room generally agreed that the Morits probably did not realize that the festival was a huge draw given the weather.   A party to end a war?  I like it.

Next: For the Price of One Gazette

Master Walthari stood on a raised platform at the end of the hall.  He tried to ignore the creeping stench of the tannery next door.  "I must place myself within reach of the people" he reminded himself.  "Matmus protect me from the foul humors of Necmus." As the people filed in from the cold he welcomed them in crude Domish.  "Come brothers and sisters, be sitting and draw into the warm."

He had wanted to preach from the Great Hall of Castle Keldrun.  Or perhaps the main hall of the Black Horde Inn in Dorgat.  But Gunter Neimann, he knew, disliked him.  "You should go where the poor are, give your message where it is most needed" the great general had said.  He was right, of course, but still he craved a larger, wider audience.  And perhaps a place that did not reek of dead flesh.  He agreed to the general's suggestions though, anything to get off the Greatship Erobern.  And so he found himself again preaching to the odd assortment of peasants seated in the old tannery drying room.  A few were old Castans, who harkened back to the ancient faith of their Morit ancestors.  Some were Dorcers who had lost loved ones to the despair of the darkness.  All were poor, cold and hungry and felt that the Elemental faith had abandoned them.  "May the light of Matmus shine with you, and keep the Necmus without you" he intoned, his eyes closed and his arms raised.  "Matmus deliver us" several answered wrotely.  "My brothers and sisters, we know that both the Matmus and the Necmus watch over us and the battle between them rages within and without from us.  We cannot hope to keep the Necmus from achieving us completely without this fellowship and gathering in the name of Matmus.  Like the light of the sun we need to feel this within us.  Not to do this brings on the darkness once again."  Master Walthari opened his eyes and looked over the crowd before him.  "I will soon out grow this hall" he thought.  "Then Neimann will have to listen to me."

***

The Church of Elemental Unity was quiet and full of shadows.  Despite the pilgrims that sat cross-legged on floor mats, their heads bowed in silent contemplation, there was disquiet here.  A vague aura of failure and decline.  Prior Arabas could feel it.  The Morits had not shut down the church, the doors were still open to the faithful, but the number of visitors was visibly dwindling.  His ears still rang to the shouts of the disillusioned "why have you done nothing?"  He had had no answer for them.  The Lord Abbot had gone away in search of those answers, but had not returned.  In the meantime, the Morits came and the darkness lifted.  He felt in his soul that the elements themselves had righted this wrong, and he attested to that with anyone who asked.  But he longed for some sign of it for himself, to calm his own doubts.  To add fire to his words and his heart.  For the darkness still lingered within him.  Then he heard a voice.  "It is done" it said to him.  Standing in the nave he spun around to peer into the dim light of what was once the great hall of old Dorcer Castle to try and see which of the pilgrims seated there had spoken.  But no one moved.  He then saw the great doors of the church open a crack to let in the speaker along with a wisp of frigid air.  It was the Abbot, he instantly knew, despite the cloak that shrouded him.  The Abbot gestured for him to keep silent and the two walked quietly into the narthex and out of view.  Prior Arabas tried to contain his racing emotions and found that he could not.  "Thank the Elemental Powers" he tried to say choking out only a portion before Lord Abbot Tirian embraced him.  "It is truly done."

Next: The beginnings of a Plan

Lies spread more rapidly than truth.  Especially if the truth cannot be told.  I do not doubt that Lord Tirian, Sir Forcellus Blaad, Veltek and a Khanize named Karek vanquished the evil cause of the darkness.  Forcellus had told me the tale one evening, but swore me to secrecy.  He thought that if the story got out, that the Morits might figure that Forcellus was back in the city.  He thought it best to remain as invisible and forgotten as possible.  This is why many came to believe the Morit claim that they destroyed the darkness with the advance of their god (and armies) through the invasion.  This acceptance slacked the sails of many when it came to active resistance.  Sure, no one liked the Morits in DOM, but didn't King Keldrun of Fane conquer Dorcer under the religeous banner of Esam? 

This problem was why we were all sitting around a table at Jano's farm in Wesgat discussing what should be done.  Present were an impressive company; Lord Tirian, Sir Forcellus Blaad, now "Sir" Veltek, our new compatriot Guwek Tyno, myself, Farmer Janos, Palen Corva of the Gaping Maw, Zef Zavras of the Tooth, and last but certainly not least Prince Karsh Petros.  The Prince was a tall man for a Petrosian, but then his mother Queen Lira was tall.  Most Coosans were.  He was haggard though, he had done a lot of traveling to get here.  They had landed at Bird's Head at the top of Dorcer Province and had alternately walked and rode south for many days importuning on the hospitality of farmers all along the way.  Prince Karsh rode into the city as I had once, as an unrecognizable peasant.  Tirian came in as a sack of grain (please don't pass that on as he might be offended to reminded of it).

"As long as the city thinks of the Morits as liberators in some way, they will be reluctant to provide much resistance" the Prince began.  "We must get them to display their true colors, and we must get the truth of the vanquishment of the darkness out to them."  Tirian looked concerned "Our actions in this regard may cost us the lives of our own citizens."  Forcellus rushed to the Prince's defense "that is only true if we incite them to take the lives of our citizens.  We need another way to have them demonstrate their true intentions."  "yes" continued Tirian "but their intentions may actually be honorable in that regard.  What if they truly believe that we were infected, and that their god delivered us?"  Prince Karsh looked as if he had an answer "then we would need either to set them straight, or congratulate them on a job well done.   Either way we thank them and send them home!"  "If corrupt, I doubt their clerics would accept either story" voiced Tirian.  "They would not want to be told that their god did not disperse it, nor would they want to lose their current power by leaving."  "Then they must be shown for the opportunists that I believe them to be" said Prince Karsh, his indignation rising.  "How shall we do that my lord?" said Forcellus, speaking what we all were thinking.  "We cannot sail into the harbor and throw a victory party."  "No" the Prince said with frustration creeping into his voice.  Sir Veltek then spoke up for the first time "we cannot declare it openly, but we can get the word out.  We can use the Veil."  He was looking at me now.  A lump jumped into my throat.  Was I to council a Prince now?  Sure, why not.  "The Veil can get the word out, sire, but who will believe us?"  "Few will" answered the Prince.  "We will need proof of some kind".  Veltek then stood and rummaged through his pack.  He drew out something that glowed a dull orange in the dimly lit farmhouse.  Onto the table he placed a fiery red orb as big as a fist.  "Will this help?"

Next: A Light in the Darkness