Kole settled back into his own skin. The consciousness in the bonesword had taken him into the past of Klalech's kingdom, and there he found details of the plan to open a new gateway. "Mannikins," Kole muttered.

"Those creatures talking to Klalech were mannikins, weren't they? I thought they all were destroyed during the Great Reclamation."

Jhebon Mettit, the consciousness in the bonesword, enlightened him, "There are twelve left on this continent. One hundred fourteen total on this world. They survived by hiding in the Wildlands here, but overseas, the Reclamation did not reach there. They were destroyed by other means. They are now an unnecessary part of the Balance of the Earth."

Kole began to imagine what the rest of the Earth might be like - the places where the Humans never heard of Dav or the Rebellion that turned the course of the demonic occupation.

Jhebon interrupted Kole's reverie. "It is not part of the patterns to give you details."

Harsh words. Was this Jhebon's way of keeping Kole focused on his task? His words implied that Kole may never know these other regions... that he may not survive his encounter with Klalech to travel there. Kole gritted his teeth and began to question why he could not know something of the other regions.

A pause, then Jhebon parrotted "It is not part of the patterns to give you details."

It was a quiet morning. The late summer breezes brought scents of slowing sap, and the quieting of leaves preparing to change colors. Laastra's clan had been travelling North for weeks, searching for these mountains. Madak could feel the vibration of pain coming from the mountain range in front of him, even though it would still be another day before they reached their base. The mountains has power in their deep pain. This power intrigued him. It would be powerful enough to hide anything in there from the rest of the world.

The sun had not quite risen, and dew clung to the air, reinforcing the essence of the grey green pre-dawn sky. Madak took three deep breaths. It would be another hour before the rest of the camp awoke to strike their tents. He took this time to go inside himself to seek balance.

He sat on a blanket and closed his eyes. The world quickly receded into blackness, and his place of power folded in. He opened his inner eyes and saw the familiar details of the primal woods. The Arch Jungle. Trees older than the world reached up to a dark canopy far above his head. Scents of old leaf decay clung close to the ground. Beneath the spicy leaves, the sounds of beetles and grubs crunching along their fertile paths, breaking down the floor into soil.

Speckles of sunlight reached through to Madak's face. A rare occurance here. He stood.

The thick air pasted colors onto the inside of his lungs. The old music that was played before mankind had ears now played in his chest. He walked.

The floor crunched beneath his steps, killing scores of small insects and grubs with each step, he understood that they would provide food for something else. Everything was in balance here. The actions that he took in this world were part of that balance as well. Everything was interdependent on everything else here, and the music he breathed in and exhaled made him part of it, too.

Trees, formed just after the first sun, stood thick and wild; knowing. They curled deep into the ground and up high into the wind, reaching to taste their ancestry. Locked deep in their crusted forms is the wisdom of planetary systems; whole. Balanced. Singing as they reached.

The song pulled Madak deeper into their heart. Then, a quiver. A sharp sting in the air. Something was hunting here. Madak stopped.

Waves of distress traveled through the dense air toward him, warning him. He did not move. There are many predators in this realm, and most of them hunt by the motion of their prey. Madak knew the wave patterns of many creatures here, but not this one. He played the odds and continued to stand still, hoping that this one would pass him by.

The ground began to rumble as it approached. It was big, whatever it was. The vibrations of its approach ached in the base of his skull.

The ground swelled. A mound as wide as twice the height of Madak began to rise in front of him. Roots close to the surface snapped in a rapid percussion, thicker root shattered with muted clunks, muffled by the layers of leaves and soil. The dark form that rose before him was dark and shiny, wearing a dripping, netted mane of dirt and roots.

Madak showed his respect for this being by by invoking its name, and helped it manifest. "Naraka," The first to be named, Naraka is the great dragon of decay; the brother-lover of Gaia, the creatrix.

In all of the meditations led by Laastra, Naraka had never appeared to him. This was both frightening and flattering for him now, as the dark god loomed over him, seemingly waiting for something.

The sounds of the woods had stopped, as if waiting for the same thing. An answer to an unasked question. Madak decided to ask, "What is it you want from me?"

Naraka's breath filled him - a burning acidic yellow vapor. The stench of decay filled Madak's head, and a seething pressure made his ears pop. Madak clenched his eyes shut and waited for the pressure to subside. Long seconds later, it did, and Naraka's story ate its way into his mind... like a poisoned child's nursery rhyme...

Naraka's is a primitive mind, unable to grasp the subtleties of human scheming. There was a bitterness of betrayal in his tale. He had been tricked. Naraka was used somehow as the force that allowed the invasion to occur on Earth a thousand years ago. The details were unclear and unknown to the primordial god, only the fact that Naraka's essence was exploited, that which separates whole forms into their elemental parts; used to seperated the Human souls from their bodies. As punishment from Gomwe, the Earth Guardian, Naraka was forced to protect the remaining Human souls from corruption, and sent out his Naga freely to accomplish that. These Naga became the guardians of the surviving Human clans.

One of these clans settled in the mountains ahead. The guardian magan, however, trapped his clan's naga in the mountains, tricking it into believing that it were Naraka himself. That mountain naga is still keeping all non-native forces out of the settlement, and keeping the valley closed off from any natural flow of balance. Theirs is a world of brittleness, and it must be reabsorbed into the balance of the Earth. The naga protecting the valley is dying, and Naraka feels its pain. Naraka wanted to reconnect with its child; to heal it and the valley by reabsorbing its child.

Naraka loomed over Madak for a long silent immeasurable moment, swaying. Madak felt a paternal pain emanating from the elemental, and it made Madak's heart curl inward inside his chest. Although Madak had never been a parent, he felt the same longing for reconnection. The wet black sheen of Naraka's smooth skin gave no hint of any features; no face to read, but Madak saw the profound distress in that glistening rounded form. His chest ached for this lonely deity and Madak's eyes began to burn. Tears for the god with none to give. One tear fell to the ground.

As if this was his cue, Naraka pulled away from Madak back into the ground. Roots netted over the man-sized tunnel that he created, and within a few moments, a clotted fabric of wood and grasses had camoflaged perfectly his retreat.

Madak opened his eyes. The vision was done. The sun was rising over the hills to the east, and it shone onto his face.

He stood up and folded the blanket under his arm. Laastra approached him. A knowing look in his eyes betrayed what hid behind the question, "What do the patterns say this morning?"

Madak thought about Naraka's plea to him. Was it just to him, or was it for Laastra to know, too?

"The valley ahead.. there are people there who need our help. The valley needs to be rebalanced," said Madak, using the terms that Laastra used. 'Rebalanced' was his euphemism for an exorcism.

"Yes," Laastra began, "this I have told you already..."

Hearing the expectation in Laastra's tone, Madak continued, "There is a taint to the valley... it has been cut off since the Gloaming Time of all natural balance. It needs to be rebalanced as well."

"I understand that, Madak," Laastra looked hard into Madak's eyes, "...why?"

"Naraka wishes to reconnect with his child."

Laastra smiled. "Yes. This we will do, and purge the sickness out of the valley as well."

End Part 10