After Gilbert and Archil exit the city, they see a cloaked figure standing next to the road.

"An interesting thing is it not?" Axsel says. "Interriftal energy is one of the most intriguing

substances in this world. It can be turned into every form of energy known to man. The

energy present in Lyston was tuned to sound. It leaving his body in this form caused his

hum. The only way he would have been cured from his problem, would have been at the

hand of a mage. Unfortunately for Lyston no mages are left in the city of Oliron. Truly a

tragic tale for him."

Archil reacts to this.

"Mages?" He says. "Do you mean to tell me that magic does exist?"

"Not magic." Axsel says. "Interriftal energy! Mages have a special connection to it . I do not

know why, but they can manipulate interriftal energy freely."

"So why would you suddenly tell us something of value?" Gilbert says. "You have kept

most information from us. You keep speaking in riddles."

"They took one of my cards." Axsel says. "I am merely drawing new ones."

"So what are you going to do with your current vessel?" Archil asks. "Won't he be killed?"

"Vessel?" Axsel asks. "Oh, yes I forgot to mention. This is no vessel, Archil. I am special

among the gods. A mage to be exact. I can manipulate energy to form matter. This is

beyond any human mage. I use this to create a human shell in this world to inhabit. It is

why I keep my cloak."

"Then why can't you help us more?" Gilbert says.

"The beliefs in the strength of humans on their own does, unlike with many other gods,

exist." Axsel says. "If I interfere with humans too much I will just be another Arthfael, no

matter my intentions. This war is mine, but I cannot fight it. That is why I need you. Now

listen carefully. Your mission for me is to find a human mage and recruit him or her to our

cause. Try and convert him as quickly as possible. Everyone loyal to Arthfael can have his

soul ripped out. That is why they needed to convince Lyston to help them. Good luck,

gentlemen. You'll need it."

"Wait!" Archil says. "Why are you so incredibly intent on helping humans."

"Another time, Archil." Axsel says, as he walks back to the city. "Goodby, gentlemen!"

Axsel disappears in a cloud of dust, swept away by the wind. It is a beautiful area.

Because of the lake around Oliron the natural areas beyond the lake have been

preserved. Archil and Gilbert are currently just south of the city. The hill they stand on is

completely covered in tall grass and flowers.

"It is beautiful out here, is it not, Gilbert?" Archil says. "It is nice and quiet. Their are no

Corpsefeeders out here. Those infernal, black birds. I am honestly surprised we have

never left the city. The lake shines from this side. From the city it simply looks grim, dark

and dirty."

"Lyston is gone, sir." Gilbert says in a sad tone. "Does it not bother you that the man who

got him killed is leading us?"

"Maxwell and Arthfael did the killing, Gilbert." Archil says. "It was for that reason I forgave

Lyston. I can't blame the fake god for this. Axsel does what he can to honour his ideals and

keep us alive. He believes in our strength. Now we must belief in him and find that mage.

Maxwell most likely has control over the city now. He holds the lives of everyone we ever

knew in his hands. The only thing that can save us now is the game Axsel plays. The fake

god won't betray us unless he really needs to. Our lives for the lives of everyone on this

island. Does that seem like a bad cause to you?"

"I'll follow you, as I have always followed you, sir." Gilbert says. "I merely mean why should

be careful around the fake god."

"It is nearly midday, Gilbert." Archil says. "Let's move to the nearest town. A mage should

stand out and we might catch some rumours."

"Obeying the fake god it is." Gilbert sighs.

"Say, Gilbert." Archil says. "Do you have anything better to do? We might as well make

ourselves useful."

"So where is the nearest village?" Gilbert asks.

"If we head south, along the roads, we should arrive at a village." Archil says. "George also

made maps of Oliron. It would have been nice to have them with us now, since I have only

seen them once or twice."

"South it is." Gilbert says, as he walks towards the road. "We best move as fast as

possible, sir. We can buy supplies with the quartz we have with, but we will need to find a

market first. Add that up to our low supplies..."

"We can travel for two days like this." Archil concludes, following Gilbert. "It should only

take around one day to get to our destination."

"And so we march..." Gilbert says. "Unarmed and all."

"Too bad I couldn't grab the executioners axe or something during the confusion earlier."

Archil says. "It would have been nice at least have a weapon on this trip. Which reminds

me, remember those Goblins I told you about?"

"The small grey creature?" Gilbert asks. "Yes, I remember. Why do you ask, sir?"

"We are likely to meet a group." Archil says. "Depending on our luck, they will be armed or

not. They will carry weapons and armour, if they can lay their hands on it. They appear to

be a creatures spawned by one of the eastern gods. I believe the god is called Sracdeen.

His people are utterly devoted to him and yet he sets these wretched rodents on them to

haunt their sand filled towns. It is almost like the Corpsefeeders, however the

Corpsefeeders don't eat the living. I guess a god can only do so much with animals and

interriftal energy."

"Any idea why they were made, sir?" Gilbert asks.

"I don't actually know." Archil says. "I think it might just be a cruel amusement to Sracdeen.

Let's ask Axsel next time we meet him."

"I ment the Corpsefeeders, sir." Gilbert says. "I don't know the first thing about Sracdeen,

so I can't relate to nor understand any of his reasoning. No, it is our world that concerns

me now."

"The Corpsefeeders..." Archil starts. "George wrote about it in 'Oliron in the ages' volume

2. He states that one day a new species of bird appeared in the streets of Oliron. He

describes it as a black bird with sharp claws and a beak filled with barbed teeth angled

back. It has red glowing eyes and threatens anything that should disturb its meal as it rips

the flesh right of of a decaying corpse. He also states that a smaller very similar bird

variant was hunted down and devoured by these vicious creatures. They do solve a

problem though. It appears that as long as people die in the streets, they won't attack

people. They clean up for us as we die, so to speak."

"Then why did you say Arthfael was responsible, sir?" Gilbert says. "He may not be."

"Gilbert, first of all, I never said Arthfael did it." Archil responds. "I said Corpsefeeders are

similar to Goblins. There is also the fact that they appeared overnight much like humans

apparently did. I still can't quite believe thar Arthfael build the city of Oliron."

Suddenly a great rumbling noise can be heard from the city. Archil and Gilbert look around

and watch in horror as the central spire of Oliron crashes to the ground, doubtlessly

crushing dozens. The fire Lyston caused, caused not only Lycon's body to die, but it also

caused the council hall to fall.

"Let's get going, Gilbert." Archil says. "I have seen enough of this place."

The two men walk south with the sun behind them and the forests ahead. A huge cloud of

dust and debris hangs above Oliron as its finest building lays in ruin. A faint laughter can

be heard, carried in the wind. A man celebrating victory as that which Arthfael build was no

more. A building that a mere fire would not destroy was now broken by the drawing of a

card. For only fire fueled by Arthfael's own power could destroy a structure of his making.

It was hours later, when the darkness of night had already engulfed the city, that the dust

settled and the true damage could be observed.

"Fire..." Archil whispers. "Those wretched Goblins can build fires... And tents too! They

must have found supplies from a farm around here."

Archil and Gilbert lie in a bush on a hill and are looking down on a big Goblin camp. Fires

are lit everywhere and Goblins gather in masses around them. Tents are scattered

between them and in a few places remains of burned down tents can be seen. Near the

centre of the camp sits a big, grey ball of fat. He sits atop a big throne-like chair and looks

around at his minions. The area around him is almost completely empty, as the Goblins do

not dare approach their king. A sound much like singing can be heard from the camp. It

can hardly be called singing, but there is no better way to describe it. They seem to speak

in a tongue of their own, gurgling and gesturing at each other. They crawl about on four legs

and no Goblin is fully the same. They all have unique deformities and self made clothing.

"Not only have they mastered fire, but they also have a leader." Archil says. "This is far

worse than I could have ever imagined. Not to mention their numbers. They outnumber the

citizen of Oliron five on one at the very least! The sun will rise soon and they will retreat to

their holes and tents, until the moons shine upon them once more. The sun burns them,

you see. That is what keeps them in check in the east. The sun shines brighter there and

so the Goblins have to hide further under the surface. Our sun should suffice though. We

should have a save passage to the town further south. That is, if there still is a city."

A light slowly starts to shine on Archil's back. As he said, the sun is almost up and the

Goblins will hide. At the first sign of the sun peeking over the hills, the Goblins start to

panic, running around wildly and falling over each other. The king is carried away by a

large group of Goblins, who find it visibly difficult to get there master out of the hateful

sun's way.

"A light made by divine energy, burning so we might see..." Archil says. "Truly a wonderful

thing it is. I am curious how it got there though... Maybe the fake god knows."

"So it burns them because the sun is made by the gods?" Gilbert says. "Why, if they are

both created by a god then they must surely be able to coexist."

"Not all things are of the same god, nor do I know who made the ball of fire we call sun."

Archil says. "Gods may not fully agree on what is good and what is not. They might even

fight, like the fake god does."

They go down the hill into the Goblin camp.

"Are you sure this is wise, sir?" Gilbert asks. "Won't the Goblins attack us out here?"

"My dear Gilbert!" Archil says. "Did I not say that sunlight burns them. When I say burns

them, I mean like what fire does to flesh. If they stay in direct sunlight for more than a

minute or so their skin falls of. They might try and attack us, but they would fall long before

reaching us."

Of course a Goblin is dumb enough to at that moment come charging at the two men

walking in between the tents. He has a worn sword in his hand combined with a 'modified'

chain mail. He seems to feel invincible, wielding his weaponry. He jumps out of the

shadows and lands a metre away from Archil. He would have continued his charge, but as

soon as the creature hit the ground his legs collapsed under him and he fell gurgling in

pain. He rolls over the ground trying to stop the fires erupting on its pale, leathery skin, but

for every fire he extinguished, another emerged. Soon the gurgling stopped and the

burning Goblin lay dead on the ground, his skin slowly peeling of of his bones, which then

also caught fire and burned.

"So brave." Archil says, sarcastically. "I find some humans can be similar in behaviour to

that Goblin. Rushing into everything that seems like a good idea, while it should be

considered an act of stupidity. He brought me a weapon at the very least. Too bad he

ruined the chain mail though. That could have also been useful on our travels."

Archil picks up the sword, cleaning the ashes of the hilt. He puts it in the sheath that was

never taken from him.

"It's a good thing they decided to execute us so quickly." Archil continues. "They had no

time to really give us new clothing. Having your own clothes and some of the items you

own is always a useful thing."

"Why would Goblins act so reckless." Gilbert asks. "Are they not also living creatures that

should treasure life more than anything?"

"But they are not living by themselves." Archil says. "Few other creatures behave in the

same way. We call it honour. Goblins call it something like 'gracrark'. The Jardine who

wrote the third volume of 'Oliron through the ages' knew a great deal about those things.

He wrote 'Creatures of Wonder' before starting on the third volume. It is a great book

describing many creatures that seem out of place in this world. How he figured out parts of

the Goblin Tongue is beyond me though. He also included humans and gods, which is why

the book is less popular. Most people don't like being compared to Goblins. Too bad I can't

recall his name..."

"Jardines seem to be fairly smart, sir." Gilbert says. "How come Master Jardine betrayed

everyone like that? Would he not see the good of the people rather than his personal

gain?"

"Where there is no hope, one must find hope." Archil says. "If one cannot find hope,

another must give one hope. If another cannot give one hope, one will fall to darkness.

The beginning quote of 'Oliron in the ages' volume two. My father did not find hope, nor did

anyone extend it to him. At that point he only saw darkness and he tried to do what he

could to help Oliron. All was in vain though, since Maxwell will not share power, because

he is a minion send by Arthfael and Arthfael wants to rule all."

By now the two men have passed the Goblin camp. None of the other Goblins feel brave

enough to step into the light and attack the humans, not after seeing what became of the

first Goblin that tried. They just sit there, waiting in the darkness.

"They have excellent smell, but they will get bored if the hunt is too long." Archil says. "If

we march far enough, they will not follow."

As they draw further away from the camp Archil decides to try and force a reaction from

the Goblins.

"Kregracrark!" He yells back.

Instantly one of the Goblins, smaller than the last one, with a big bulge on his back, forgets

all about the sun and the distance between him and the humans. He charges out to meet

them, but soon he also falls as the vents out of his clothing. He catches fire and dies.

"What was that?" Gilbert asks, confused. "Sir, what did you say to them?"

"I called them honour-less, I think." Archil says. "Just confirming that the language is still

the same. They are not supposed to have a leader, so I decided to see if the language had

also changed. I know too little of it to more than insult them though..."

"Is that not risky?" Gilbert asks. "Won't they be more determent to chase us then?"

"They'll start following us and as soon as they leave camp, they'll forget why. Don't worry

about it, Gilbert. Either way, the village is only two hours out and I am starving."

"Could we not eat Goblin?" Gilbert asks. "I am truly starving."

"Murdering a vessel worries you, but eating a grey mutation is fine with you?" Archil says. "There is nothing to really eat of of them anyway. Not after they get into contact with sunlight. If I, in some way, understand interriftal energy, then it should react with the first form of energy. In this case that is heat generated by direct sunlight. They are burned to a crisp."

Two hours later they reach a small village and they sit down in the nearest tavern. They

take a seat in one of the darker corners of the room. Archil orders a cup of water and a

bread and Gilbert orders a bowl soup. It seems to contain more fish than anything else.

"And now we listen, Gilbert." Archil says. "We should see if anyone has seen some sort of

magic."

"How do we know it really is magic?" Gilbert says. "The fake god told us nothing."

"I am sure we will identify what is magic." Archil says. "It should be quite clear once we

hear it."

"The Goblins up north have been causing trouble again." A strong looking man in a corner

says. "Ten farms pillaged and burned in the last week. What is the city of Oliron doing?

Should they not send an army to reinforce these villages?"

"I had an incredibly strange dream last night." A woman says at the bar. "A man walked

onto the middle of the town square and all the buildings were burning. The something fell

on me and I woke up."

"A fire suddenly started near my house." A big man says close to the woman. "It nearly

destroyed all four houses gathered there. Bloody kids, creating fires for their own

amusement."

"A burned down street..." Archil says. "A good place to start."

Archil walks over to the man and sits down next to him.

"So where is this burned down street." Archil asks.

"Out of the door, go right." He answers. "Third street on your left. I thought you knew

where my house was though."

He looks to his right, to the man he was talking to. The man looks confused, since he did

not ask the question. Archil has already left his chair and starts moving towards the door.

He gestures Gilbert to follow his, as the two men are arguing about the person who asked

the question. Archil and Gilbert leave the tavern and move to the burned down street.

"Curious indeed, Gilbert." Archil says. "It is not impossible though that this was just a

normal fire."

"That is what I keep telling them." A young man, about Gilbert's age, says. He is chained

and appears to be beaten up. "Yet they insist that it was my fault. They say I performed

sorcery to settle some kind of score with one of the occupant. I did not and I would not

know what unfortunate souls live in these houses. I am Xandrian, nice to meet you."

"I am Archil and I have a question for you, Xandrian. Can you truly use magic?"

"Are you crazy?" Xandrian says. "Magic? Me? Do you really think I would still be here if I

possessed such a thing as magic?"

"Then you are not my concern." Archil states, bluntly. "Come along, Gilbert. We have a

mage to find!"

"Wait!" Xandrian yells. "I am a mage... It just seems to generally be a good idea to keep it

quiet."

"What happened to you supposedly escaping?" Archil asks. "If you are a mage, then why

are you still here?"

"Magic does not work as simple as that." Xandrian says. "Not only would I endanger

everyone around me, but I also need some kind of ignition. The way you talk, I assume

you know about interriftal energy?"

"It seems to me like we need to talk somewhere private." Archil says. "Gilbert, can you

break him out?"

"Of course, sir." Gilbert says. He swiftly picks the lock on the chains. "All done, sir. He can

move now."

"Xandrian, do you have a house around here?" Archil asks.

"Yes, it is just a few blocks down." Xandrian says. "I will take you there. So, what brings

you fine gentlemen to Grimsby?"

"Grimsby?" Gilbert asks.

"The village we are in, Gilbert." Archil says. "And I thought I was rather clear that our goal

is to find a mage to support us in our... endeavours."

"Well, let's see if I can be of any use to you two." Xandrian says, entering a small, wooden

hut.

"You live here?" Gilbert exclaims.

"Yes, people tent to mistake mages for mediums, you see." Xandrian explains. "Jobs

outside of the shrines are particularly hard to come by when everyone treats you as such."

"Now let me show you something." Xandrian says. "Gilbert, do you have a firestarter on

you?"

"No, I do not." Gilbert replies. "Archil had one, but he gave it to someone who lost his

head..."

"I am very sorry to hear that." Xandrian says nervously. "This will be somewhat harder

then."

Xandrian starts to search in a big pile of items. He finally finds a worn down piece of flint.

"This will do." He says, sitting back down. "Now observe."

He lights a small piece of wood on fire. The fire burns low and dim. Xandrian has closed

his eyes and is concentrating deeply. Then, suddenly, the entire piece burned to a crisp

instantly. Suddenly Archil's muscles contract. He jumps up and Gilbert does to same.

"What was that?" Gilbert yells surprised.

"That was magic, Gilbert." Xandrian explains. "You see, when I call on interriftal energy, I

can direct it anywhere. When I direct it at fire, it will cause more fire."

"And the thing that hit us?" Gilbert asks.

"That is the downside..." Xandrian says. "Whenever I do use magic, a portion of the

interriftal energy is turned into lightning. Lightning being my speciality. It is most likely the

weakest of all, since lightning is not easy to come by."

"Can you do something else, besides create fires and lightning?" Archil asks.

"I can temporarily cure mediums and I can detect other mages." Xandrian answers. "Also, I

can see what energy your soul is in tune with. For example, Gilbert, you are in tune with

movement and, Archil, you are in tune with... hmmm... Oh, it doesn't matter. The point is

that I can tell how your energy reacts. Did you know that a Goblin born with a soul that is in

tune with fire already burns before they are even fully grown? This sometimes leads to the

death of more than just one of them."

"Did you ever meet another mage?" Gilbert asks, not bothered by the change of subject.

"Yes." Xandrian answers. "Only once though. The rarest of all perhaps. A god capable of

creating his own body in this realm."

"What did he look like?" Gilbert asks, already suspecting the answer.

A panicked scream suddenly arose from outside. A deep voice yelled in throat noises.

'Kregracrark' it yells at random intervals.

"Those must be..." Gilbert starts.

"Yes, Gilbert." Archil says. "Golbins. They have followed us."