Eternal Recurrence - Part 1 - By: Natus Lumen

~Prologue~
July 21, 2023 – St. Louis, Missouri
Tom Davis woke up early that morning. He had a big presentation at work that day, and he had to beat the rush hour traffic to make absolutely sure he was on time. Wearing his best suit and tie, he left home shortly after dawn. His presentation went over well, and he was given a raise and promotion by his boss. Unfortunately, fate had decreed that he would die that day. The cause of death was to be a car accident, and he would never see it coming.

~1~
October 13, 3511 – En route to the Bern solar system
She sat in the cockpit of her creation, the prototype Interplanetary Mechanized Armored Suit, or IMAS. The pitch black of phase space enveloped her senses as she waited for the reversion to normal space. She was thinking about the cybernetic breakthrough that allowed the pilot, via a direct connection between her nervous system and the suit, to exercise fine enough control to make an IMAS a feasible weapon. It had taken her entire life to make that discovery, and she was understandably famous within the Confederation military for it. Her fame only increased when one realized that this research had been underway for nearly three generations before she even began her career.

Directly below her sat her constant companion, an android assistant that she had built at the age of 20, well over a decade ago. Most modern androids were designed to be very clearly male or female, but this one was not. Even its voice had an odd sort of gender duality to it, with every word sounding like a male-female duet. Despite its age, she had never named it, for it always seemed to know when it was being addressed, whether by her or someone else. As the point of reversion drew near, the android intruded on her thoughts with a simple “Thirty seconds to reversion.” She snapped her focus back to the present, and reactivated the neural link between herself and the IMAS. As soon as she saw the star field rematerialize around her, she activated her comm unit. “This is Doctor Rachel Sinclair hailing Confederation flagship, requesting confirmation of rendezvous coordinates.”

The signal bounced off a comm beacon left behind by the Confederation fleet, and directed it to the inner side of one monstrous asteroid within the system's asteroid belt, where the Confederation fleet was fighting a fierce battle for survival. The response soon came back, “Dr. Sinclair, this is the Confederation flagship Freedom's Arrow . We are sending you revised coordinates. We have been ambushed by a Consortium fleet. Hold position where you are. If you do not receive further instructions within one standard hour, report to the research station on Hatari Prime.”

They must be in some serious trouble to ask me to hold position , she thought. Well, it looks like I don't have a choice but to do some field testing. “Negative, Arrow . This is a combat vehicle. I am coming to assist. ETA is approximately ten minutes.” She cut off the comm unit so she wouldn't have to hear the Arrow 's comm officer ordering her to wait or flee, and engaged the engines at full speed, aiming directly into the heart of the asteroid belt.

~2~
Bern system
He was watching from just outside the asteroid belt, where he could see the entire field of battle. He noted that the Confederation was outnumbered almost ten to one. It was obvious that it was only a matter of time until Freedom's Arrow and the rest of the Confederation fleet were nothing more than burned out hulks. Not interested in watching a massacre, he reoriented himself toward Hatari Prime, which was only a few light years away. Just then he heard the exchange between the Arrow and Dr. Sinclair, which instantly caught his attention. This battle had not been part of his plan in the first place, and now it seemed like Dr. Sinclair was going to throw her life away in a fruitless attempt to turn the battle. Even if it worked, she would die in the attempt; that much was sure. Unfortunately, that was the only outcome he could not allow. He sighed and ran his fingers through his silver hair, realizing that his hand had now been forced and that he would have to personally intervene long before he had intended to. Despite being far from the best-case scenario, he had anticipated this turn of events. Turning back around and propelling himself toward the asteroid field, he grudgingly congratulated his cosmic opponent for finding the linchpin of his plan.

~3~
Bern asteroid belt – Bridge of the destroyer Freedom's Arrow
Admiral Ken Johnson was shouting commands to his officers. He was desperately trying to find a way to snatch a victory for the Confederation, but to no avail. Each of his ships was surrounded by at least six or seven hostiles, while an additional force equal to his own fleet was waiting as a reserve force. No amount of tactical prowess could win this battle. He had to think laterally, and he managed to concoct one risky, last-ditch plan. It couldn't turn the tide, but it could turn the enemy's victory into a pyrrhic one if it worked. He activated the bridge's comm system. “Engineering, this is the Admiral. How much power from the phase drives can the shields take before they overload?”

After a couple seconds, the chief engineer replied “The primary system can take about one-third, sir.”

“Very well, divert one-third of all power from the phase drives to the primary shields. Stand by to divert the other two-thirds as well as all available antimatter fuel to the primary shields on my mark.” He cut the comm system and shouted down to his tactical officer. “Activate the secondary shield system. Cease fire and divert all weapon power into maintaining the secondary shields. Deactivate all sensor systems.” When the secondary shields were fully charged and activated, he ordered the chief engineer to shunt all remaining power and antimatter directly into the primary shields.

Just as he had hoped, the shields were already buckling, and when the continuous stream of antimatter was injected into it, the shields, now filled with exponentially more power than they could handle, flared outward in a massive blue-tinged explosion. With all the formidable power of the ship's phase drive behind it, the explosion ripped through the surrounding ships with dazzling efficiency. Hopefully enough of the explosive force was directed outward that the secondary shields would prevent the Arrow from being destroyed also. When he was finally able to see again after the blinding blast subsided, he asked for a status report. One of his officers reported “Secondary shields and all primary weapons systems are down. Primary engines disabled. Sporadic hull breaches reported across all decks. The nearest enemy vessels are all inoperable. The enemy's reserve force is vectoring towards us. Estimated two minutes until firing range.” Satisfied he had done the best he could, Ken watched silently as the enemy ships bore down on the Arrow .

As the enemy neared firing range, he noticed an odd motion in one of the smaller escort cruisers as it fell out of formation. It yawed right and accelerated hard, crashing straight through three small frigates before detonating in what appeared to be a self-destruct mechanism. Ken watched, awestruck, as the 3 remaining escort cruisers simultaneously opened fire on each other. Even more oddly, it seemed that all three had deactivated their shields, so the shots ripped right through their hulls, and they were destroyed after the initial volley. Now only the flagship destroyer was intact, but it was still much more than a match for the disabled Arrow . By now it was at extreme maximum range, and its front laser battery opened up. Ken braced for the impact but the laser blast never hit. He looked up and saw the laser dissipating mere meters in front of the bridge. When the tremendous flash that accompanied it had dimmed, he saw something else outside. He approached the viewport and saw a man floating at the point where the laser blast had halted. He wore black slacks and a strange white collared shirt. Ken recognized the style from some period entertainment pieces he had seen. It had fallen out of favor two millennia ago. The man's hair seemed to shine with a silver radiance, and his hands were clasped behind his back. As Ken watched, the man raised his right arm and pointed it, palm outward, toward the enemy destroyer, as if he were simply going to grab it. The destroyer began to contort violently, moving and bending at angles that shouldn't have been possible. After several of these strange distortions, the destroyer's hull literally folded in on itself several times, then shrank to half its previous size before it simply disappeared. Ken stood there, gaping at what he had seen, and was utterly terrified of this strange man who could manipulate ships and survive in the vacuum of space. He wanted nothing more than to flee as quickly as he could, but his ship was still disabled from the shield flare he had created.

The man outside turned around and drifted towards the bridge, arms at his sides. Ken, his uniform drenched in a nervous sweat, backed away slowly, instinctively trying to keep distance between prey and predator. The man reached the viewport and simply stepped through it onto the cold metal floor of the bridge. He approached Ken, who was now glued to the floor, and asked “You are the commander of this fleet?”

Ken straightened up so that he was taller than the strange silver-haired man, made a vain attempt to smooth out his wrinkled and wet uniform, and managed a stuttered “I am” as a reply.

The silver-haired man watched Ken's reaction to his question, and was impressed by how well he kept his composure, considering what had just happened. “I must speak with Dr. Rachel Sinclair.” He waved a hand towards the viewport, and, out of thin air, a chair materialized in front of it. “I will wait here until she arrives.” He turned around and started towards the chair when he heard Ken ask who he was. He turned back around and hesitated before giving an answer. He had had a name once, but that was long ago. Most of the time he could hardly even remember it, but at others the name 'Thomas' seemed to ring in his ears even in the vastness of empty space. Regardless, that name, if it had indeed been his, no longer held any meaning for him. After a few seconds of consideration, the silver-haired man replied, “You may call me... Tarache.”

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Christmas Eve - By: Desireful

[ Back to top ]

Waves - Part 2 - By: Scary Applesauce

~3~


Ryan couldn't find anything but the same news story on every channel. He finally decided to watch it. He almost wished he hadn't.

"An enormous wave struck a new, unnamed settlement at 7:00A.M this morning. The wave, estimated to be over 1,000 feet high, killed over 50,000 people, including the deputy director of the International Colonization Bureau, Hannah Jessica Wilcox. Along with a government ship-"

He turned the T.V off. He knew Professor Wilcox. She was a good friend of his parents. She was a great lady; he couldn't believe she had died. He walked into his parents' room to tell them the bad news. It was too late. They were both staring at the T.V in shocked disbelief. His mother was sobbing into his father's shoulders and his dad was acting like the typical macho-man and staring straight ahead. Ryan knew his dad was about to cry too.

"So, I take it you saw the news." Ryan's father nodded solemnly and his mother kept on sobbing. Ryan couldn't watch his parents this depressed anymore. "I'm going out for a walk." And he left without waiting for a response.

Outside was chaos as usual. With the population of New Brayson growing well over 1.5Billion, it was packed like anchovies in a can. Ryan gazed on with mild interest at a man selling a "miracle computer chip" but soon got bored and began walking to his friend, Jacob's house.

Jacob Hartman was the son of the most successful computer programmer of all time. He lived in a huge house on the eastern edge of the city. Ryan walked up to the front gate, rang the bell and was greeted by the familiar deep, computerized voice of the security system

"State your business!"

"Ryan Johnson, here to see Jacob."

The computer hummed for a few seconds and then responded.

"Stand by for identification!"

Numerous thumb-print scanners, retina readers, and other strange machines that Ryan didn't know immediately started poking and scanning him. After a few moments of this, the system stopped and boomed:

"Identification positive, please enter."

The huge metal gates swung open and Ryan began walking up the Hartman's long driveway.

Once inside, Ryan was surprised to see Jacob running towards him at full speed. He came to a stop, almost crashing into Ryan.

"There was another one!" He shouted frantically. Not bothering with his usual manners.

Ryan was confused. "Another what?" He asked.

Jacob began talking faster than Ryan thought was humanly possible.

"Well, you know how if the government loses a settlement they send in a big air cruiser to retrieve the wreckage?"

"Yes…" Ryan said, still confused.

"Well, another huge wave knocked it out of the sky!" Jacob shouted. "And I have footage," he said more calmly.

Ryan was always amazed at the size of his best friend's bedroom. Hundreds of computer monitors covered one wall and the same thing was playing on each of them.

"Here it is," Jacob said, pushing a button on his large keyboard.

Instantly, each one of the hundreds of monitors formed one huge image.

"Beginning salvage operation delta of the unnamed colony, divers, you are clear to begin," came the pilot's voice, recorded from a camera on the cockpit ceiling.

The co-pilot looked panicked he was gripping his seat tightly and his face was pale.

"C-Captain… there's a large object approaching from 130 degrees," he stuttered.

"Is it like the last 50 other large objects you've seen in the last hour?" The captain said, sounding annoyed.

"No sir, this one's huge"

"Okay," the captain said.

The captain swung the enormous cruiser around and his mouth dropped open. A huge wave was coming straight at them. The captain didn't react for a long time. And when he did, it was too late. He threw the cruiser up at a sharp angle but it was a futile gesture. The giant wave impacted with unimaginable force. The glass window was shattered and the cockpit began to fill with water. Then the camera shorted out.

Ryan stood silent for a moment and then asked:

"Where'd you get that footage?"

Jacob turned red and said sheepishly:

"I kind of hacked the wireless camera network and stole it."

Ryan rolled his eyes and laughed. "Let's do something else," he said.

"Ok, whatever."

~4~

By the time Ryan got home, his parents had stopped crying. They were trying to act happy around him but they still seemed very sad.

As they sat down for dinner, the doorbell rang. His mom looked at the monitor on a wall that showed them who was at the door. It was a man in an old fashioned suit, complete with a dark red tie.

His mom got up and answered the door.

"Hello, my name is Bob. I work for a top secret government agency, I need to see your son." He said in a dull voice.

Ryan walked out of the kitchen when he heard him say this.

Bob was tall, at least 6' he was completely bald and had no physical features that stood out to Ryan.

"Hello son," Bob began "We have evidence that you have viewed some top secret, illegally acquired footage, I'm afraid we need to take you in to ask a few questions."

It must have been the footage from the salvage cruiser, Ryan thought but what's so secret about it?

Bob held out a pair of handcuffs. Now Ryan was really suspicious, the government would send a policebot to make an arrest.

"Ok, just a second," Ryan said.

Bob sighed impatiently but gestured for him to go. Ryan ran to his mother's purse and pulled out her car key, he wasn't going out without a fight.

He snuck out a front window and headed for his mother's car when he heard a whisper.

"Ryan!"

He looked over and saw Jacob sitting in the man's car, leaning out the window.

"Come over here and get me out, the door's unlocked."

Ryan walked over silently, Bob talking quietly with his mom.

He tried the door, it was unlocked, but when he opened it a car alarm went off.

Ryan flung the door open, grabbed his handcuffed friend out of the car and began sprinting towards his mom's sports car. He hit the ignition button and the car started silently. Ryan got behind the wheel and Jacob sat in the passenger seat.

"Welcome, autopilot is engaged. Please enter your destination in the space provided," the car said.

Ryan hit the override autopilot button and slammed on the gas pedal, nothing happened.

Bob was now walking calmly towards the car, he obviously knew Ryan had no idea how to drive a car.

"How do I make it go?" Ryan shouted.

Jacob thought for a minute and pointed to a lever.

"Move that to the 'D' I think."

Ryan moved the lever and the car took off out of the drive way and down the street.

Ryan saw in the rearview camera that Bob had wasted no time getting into his car and he was now following close behind.

"I think we've got a better car," Ryan said "But he knows how to drive, all we need to do is lose him and we can easily outrun him"

Jacob shifted in his seat. "These handcuffs are really uncomfortable."

Ryan leaned over to see what he could do, expecting the car to drive itself but he realized too late it wouldn't. The car crashed into a building at over 100 miles an hour.

The specially constructed body absorbed the shock of the impact but they had a different dilemma, they were stuck.

"How do I make it go backwards?"

"Try the 'N'" Jacob suggested.

Ryan threw the lever to the N and slammed on the gas. The engine roared but they didn't go anywhere.

"Not working!" Ryan shouted.

Jacob thought harder.

"Uhh… I think it's R, yeah R for reverse!"

Ryan shifted into reverse and took off backwards. He then shifted back into D [Author note: I know what D is, but these people live 1000 years from now where cars drive themselves] and shot off just as Bob was stopping and getting out to arrest them. Ryan caught a glimpse of him talking into a phone.

"Oh no, he's calling for backup" Ryan moaned.

Almost immediately they were surrounded by 4 identical black cars, which closed in on them. They were trapped. Ryan pushed the gas pedal to the floor but they were boxed in.

Bob stepped out of car looking very angry.

"Get them out of that car!" They heard him shout. "I want them handcuffed and locked away! Forget the boss's orders just lock them up!"

Ryan and Jacob stepped out of their car and let themselves be tackled. Handcuffs were put on them and they were roughly loaded into the unmarked black cars.

One Last Gift - By: Cresenne

My grandmother died on Christmas Eve when I was seven years old. I didn't cry.

We had the funeral the next day. It was snowing. I cried then, but not because I missed her…no, I cried because I hadn't opened all my presents when my parents dragged me into the car.

That night, I laughed. I was the only one laughing.

I guess…I just didn't care.

***

I am sixteen now.

And I haven't thought about her for all these years.

Until tonight.


Tonight, snow lines the streets outside our apartment. Christmas carols hang in the air amidst the sounds of cars screeching to a halt. As strains of ‘Silent Night' rise up, I grab the pillow and I bury my head under it in a desperate attempt to drown them out. And when that fails, I reach over and turn on the radio. 96.5 FM. Full blast.

Music – real music – fills the room. With a sigh of relief, I plop down on the couch. I don't know how anyone can stand those holiday songs – they're all about the stupidest things…they're nothing like the real world. The real world is full of evil and pain. All those people standing out there in the cold singing their hearts out? They're all idiots living in their own little fantasy world.

God forbid I ever join them.

All our possessions seem to be crammed in this room. On the far side, an old cuckoo clock lies atop an old bookshelf, a fat yellow bird dangling out of its top. I took out the batteries a few weeks ago; its stupid cuckooing would wake me up every night. I don't know what possessed Mom to buy it at that yard sale.

But it fits, doesn't it? Our whole family's messed up.

Mom should've been back by now. She's probably browsing through some second-hand store, looking for something suitable to wear to church tomorrow.

We weren't always this way. My eyes wander over to the small family portrait standing next to the clock. The photo has faded, and a narrow crack runs down the glass frame, but I can still see my parents…and me. I haven't seen Dad since my parents' divorce. Or at least since Mom won the custody battle. He hasn't written or paid child support; he's just…disappeared. And without his money, we were forced to move to the city.

I hate it here.

Tomorrow is Christmas. Bright Christmas lights hang out our neighbors' windows, accompanied with store-bought window decorations. Our apartment is barely decorated. With no room for a real tree, we settled for one of those one-foot-tall plastic trees from the Dollar Store. There's one ornament on it. Pathetic.

I'm listening to some American pop song when Mom bursts in. She walks into the dining room with a huge bag. I can hear her rummaging around for something.

“Keep it down!” she yells in a muffled cry.

I grunt and reach for the volume dial. The neighbors have their TV on. I wish we had a TV instead of just this ancient radio.

“Chris, come into the dining room.”

I grunt again.

“Now.”

“Fine.”

She's sitting at the head of the table, one of her hands resting on a black dress she's brought home. She motions me closer.

In her other hand sits a ring.

“It was your grandmother's,” she says. “I was going to sell it at the pawn shop today…” Her eyes wandered to the stack of unpaid rent notices on the far end of the table. “But I remembered the day she gave it to me. It was her wedding ring. I was sixteen.” She holds out her hand. “It's yours now.”

I reach out and take it. There are no jewels on its sides – just this thin band of silver that runs down its middle. On the inside are engraved two names: Carla and James. I only recognize one.

Carla was my grandmother.

I can hardly remember her. What I do remember, I cringe from.

She was hospitalized when I was five. We'd have to go visit her every Saturday. I loathed the visits.

I think I loathed her.

Mom used to tell me stories of how she'd babysit me, and of how I'd love it whenever she did. I don't remember any of that.

I don't remember how she sang songs to me when I was little. Or how she'd read me bedtime stories. Or even how we would walk together in the park, just enjoying each other's company.

I do remember the day she died.

I was there when it happened. And her last words were for me. She'd grasped my hand and looked into my eyes, her expression more lucid than it had been for weeks.

“Christina, I know you don't want to be here. But someday, you'll remember. You'll remember me, and all the good times we've had together. When that day comes and I'm gone, remember that I still love you.”

I hadn't thought much of them then; indeed, I never thought of her after her death. But as I gaze at her name on the ring, I begin to realize how much time I've lost with my grandmother. I was horrible to her as a child: indifferent to her death.

I wish I could apologize.

But she knew this day would come, didn't she? And…she still loves me. She's forgiven me already, long before I earned her forgiveness.

And as I close my fingers around the ring, I think I finally understand her last words. Her first and final gift of love.

Even when it was unrequited.

And for that, I am eternally grateful.

Tomorrow, I think I shall sing with the carolers in the streets.

God help me, but I've joined the idiots living in their own fantasy world.

I think I like it.

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Courage - Part 4 - By: Jamster

Juna felt her body slowly reform around her, kneeling as before, but now she was perched on top of the pillars that once stood grandly outside the altar. She dropped herself down off the ruined stones, pushing her hands deep into the soft mud, ecstatic to have left the confines of Varrock. She closed her eyes, allowing the earth's cries once again to penetrate her thoughts. Juna prepared herself, but still cried out in alarm when an anguished presence thrust itself into her mind, screaming; warning. Her eyes snapped open just in time to see a fiery blade falling down above her head. She rolled forwards, cursing at her attacker in the old tongue. She stood up and surveyed the bizarre scene around her. There stood seven Black Knights, their attention focused entirely on the boy who was standing at the base of the altar. He lowered his flaming blade,

"What a foul tongue, age has not brought you wisdom, Juna." The boy mocked her in the ancient tongue, and Juna stood, bewildered as the knights advanced. She made no attempt to resist as they slashed at her now mortal body with their blackened swords. The last thing Juna remembered was the agony as he struck her temple and the boy's soft whisper in her ear, "Did you miss me?" Her eyes rolled backwards inside their eyelids, and she fell, the boy nimbly catching her descending body.

"So this is what we were facing?" Tarfel's whispery voice echoed in their ears as he examined Juna's lifeless body. " This! How pathetic." The aeromancer scorned. He turned to face the others,

"She was fierce in tracking me down, a shame such a mind will be so poorly wasted." Mordecai stepped forwards, and knelt beside her. The mass slowly formed in his palm again, pulsating, writhing, drawn towards Juna's body. He brought it closer, and it dived towards her, forcing itself through her mouth. Mordecai rose, and quickly walked towards the fourth figure in the room, Lagast, who sat, shakily, still clad in the blackened, charred armour. Glancing apprehensively back at Juna's body, he spoke, "It is good to have you back. I believed you lost when the rift's bonds were broken."

"I understand, please, do not trouble yourselves. This weakness passes soon. We must continue." Lagast slowly rose to his feet, clanking in the armour of the vessel's previous owner. He spoke slowly, croaking out every word, his pain was obvious. He pulled at the armour, slowly wrenching it off. The faster it was torn off, the faster the thick, rich, dark brown leather formed around his body. As Lagast continued to clothe himself, Mordecai walked towards the armed vessels, which stood, motionless in the darkness. He let fly a barrage of commands to the troops in his ancient, glorious, language. Instantly, as one, they presented their weapons forward. Mordecai held the closest blade in his hands, his whispers sparking fires which roared up and around every sword. When complete, the vessels returned to their positions, swords on the shoulder – the flames licking and burning slowly through the armour, and then scalding the flesh.

The rivers flow, the sun ignites... Juna desperately fought with the presence inside her mind. It fed upon her. Three thousand years of memory were slowly being absorbed, and Juna felt terrified and helpless. Her most treasured memories – the pages of Book of Balance, Guthix' love, and knowledge of the stories adventurers had told her – were hidden, but slowly, word by word, feeling by feeling, sight by sight, they were being found and devoured. ... May you stand with Guthix in thy fights... The Book brought her strength - Juna was not alone, Guthix would never abandon her.

But wait. Guthix? What name is this? Shock wracked her body, fear enveloped her and the remaining memories released themselves. Juna felt the burning sensation as they were torn away by the parasite. Her final memory rendered, Juna relinquished control of her body, and felt herself join the legion.

The newest vessel's mouth opened, and slowly, a pulsating, glowing mass emerged. Wordless squelches and hisses called Mordecai from his army, and he knelt before it, hands open. It pushed forwards, he embraced the cold, clammy mass in front of him. He was filled with ecstasy as the memories absorbed were transferred into his own. He couldn't stop himself laughing as it flooded through him, an uncontrollable, never ending stream of knowledge.

"Yes!" Mordecai cried in ecstasy, "Today, my brothers, it is a wonderful day for us. The defeat of the serpent is a sign, we must push forwards, before they can prepare. Tarfel, Lagast, see to the troops, Akran, report to me." The boy, serving the pyromancer as his vessel shook as the fire roared inside him, his commands were silently absorbed by the three, who set about their work.

****

Nick sat on the Faladorian battlements, tending to his squad's wooden bow with a cloth and a chunk of coal. Today had been just like every other day, 'brave', 'noble', foolhardy warriors had tried to train their strength on him, and every one had fallen with arrows dotted in their bodies. Acting Commander James had screamed at him for being 'an insolent idiot.' and having 'less sense than a goblin.' And, just for missing a target in the morning's practice, he was now on cleanup duty. He sighed. At least it couldn't last forever, soon Joseph would return from his stint in Burthorpe. Nothing he could do though; the others jeered and laughed at him, but it was a life. These bows wouldn't clean themselves, and he supposed he should consider himself lucky the acting commander hadn't put him on arrow sharpening duty, poor Stacker, he'd drawn the short straw today. Nick stood up to test the bow, bringing the arrow up along the notch, lining up the feathers and drawing the string back and forth. He spied a rabbit hopping below, and let the arrow fly, striking the rabbit and killing it stone dead. Nick would have thought nothing more of it if the acting commander's brown eagle eyes hadn't been stalking his prey from behind,

"Guard Rod! What in the name of Saradomin do you think you are doing? Wasting arrows, eh? I think you're going to get that back, now , aren't you?"

"Yes, Andy. Of course." Nick replied, meekly, bowing his head.

"That's Commander James to you. Any more insolence and you'll be replacing Stacker on arrows for the next..." His salvo was drowned out as a long, deep hunting horn's note resonated above their heads. They both looked Northwards, towards the Gates of Burthorpe. Four eyes squinted in the midday Sun, seeking the Faladorian squad and its banner. The Commander, his voice recovered, drew his horn and answered the call, then turned,

"Guard Company, prepare for squad formation. Present arms when ordered!" Nick obediently ducked down below the archway, and joined the rest of his company milling in the town square.

" Present... Arms! " Commander James bawled, smiling in satisfaction as he handed command back to his brother. The other guards stood, weapons presented, as Joseph addressed them, cradling his right hand in a hastily put-together sling. His squad had been engaged with a group of Black Knights, two hundred paces North of the city. He told the guards with increasing concern about their numbers, their relentless attacks and, most worrying of all, new weaponry.

"It is our concern that they wish to strike at the heart of Asgarnia - Here." He paused, gulping down his fear. "They have wounded several of our squad, including myself." He lifted his bandaged hand slightly, "If they are to strike, they will do so now, while the furnace is hot. Be prepared, be vigilant, all those in Falador must, for Saradomin and all that is good."

"For Saradomin and all that is good!" The guards echoed his words, brandishing their assorted arsenal of knives, swords, axes, hammers and bows. The two brothers exchanged a nervous glance, and it was Andrew that took the initiative. "Enough." His voice, even colder than usual, shocked them all. "Night will fall, four hours from now. Most likely, under cover of darkness, that is when they will strike. Continue the training exercises for now. And Guard Rod!'

"Yes, Sir?"

"Don't think I haven't forgotten about that arrow." A wry smile flickered Andrew's face, but disappeared before it could settle. " Squad! Fall Out! "

****

Gingerly, Nick approached the rabbit's body, feeling his commander's icy gaze from above. He let his bow down beside him, then, using both hands, he pulled as hard as he could, trying to wrench the arrow from the poor creature's corpse. It came free with a sickening rip, and Nick felt his stomach come with it. The world swam as his eyes glazed over, the rabbit's body bleeding afresh. Nick couldn't tear his eyes from the flow as it began to swamp around his feet. He cried out as he fell forwards, something burning inside his mind. The blood wasn't real, or was it? Was it his own? Madness gripped his mind, tearing pieces apart. He felt something cracking in his head, and then nothing.

Mordecai crept over the earthy sod, and glanced down at the human that had been cleansed. The human body fell into the mud, but a shout from above drew Mordecai's attention away. He hissed. Another human. This was not as he had planned, but things would still be functional. He darted forwards, towards the already rising vessel, ready to receive his mistress' wonderful, gelatinous mass in his palms. He worked quickly, thinking through the new information, learning everything this vessel had once known. A piteous amount, indeed, it was an insult to feed her such a useless being. He cradled the quivering, steaming blob in his hands, and whispered softly to her,
"Hush, hush now, my beauty. All in good time..."

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Note: In the Christmas Eve Poem, the deliberate astronomical error was that the moon was full on Christmas 2007.

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