"Snake God"
By Amanda Swiftgold

Part Eight: Warlord

Note: The parts with Unacera in them were written by Unacera herself!

      It was hard to keep track of time in the Dynasty. The horrible beauty of the Netherworld was ageless, unchanging, as was everything in it. The thought of anyone in this place aging and dying of natural causes was laughable. One died here only by another's hand or one's own foolishness.
      There were no seasons, no yearly death and renewal. Ceaseless, neverending through billions of Earth years, the Netherworld and the Dynasty, as well as its other, lesser lands and people, went on. The small globe of Earth had not even been born yet from the mass of celestial gases when the Netherworld passed its first thousand millennia, and yet one looking at it now would have discerned no physical change from the time of its creation.
      The newest resident of Talpa's palace had only a little trouble adjusting to the alienness of the landscape and even the strange difference of the air. Its familiar oddness was as comfortable to him as that of his armor. Although he'd had it for only a few -- days? weeks? -- it was as if he'd worn it his whole life.
      He had returned to Earth a day or two, perhaps more, after he had arrived in the Netherworld. He wasn't sure if he could manage to drop himself in the right spot, but he had managed it. Sekhmet appeared on the World of Mortals in the same place he had given up his mortality.
      He had looked around briefly and found nothing changed. Chadih's small grave was still open, the dirt piled on the ground, his old sword still laying where he'd dropped it. He picked it up to keep as some kind of memento of his past life. It wasn't as if he actually needed another...
      Sekhmet gazed off in the distance, in the direction Kaze would be, and smiled slightly. Doubtlessly there was fighting amongst his former people as they tried to decide who would rule them. The peace and prosperity he had given more than ten years of his life to maintain had gone in the blink of an eye.
      And now he had time to devote to destruction, to assimilating this world into Talpa's empire and using the energy of its people to grow more power. Sekhmet understood his new master and his new purpose very well. What were the weak there for, except for the strong to use?
      And the world was much larger than he had realized. It wasn't flat, as he had thought, and across the great oceans he had never seen with mortal eyes there were more lands and more people to use and rule over and destroy. He paused for only one moment before returning to his new home. Nothing bound him to the Earth anymore, and he would be glad to see it be mashed in Talpa's hands like the ball of mud it was.

      He was almost positive that he had been in the Dynasty for two weeks now, and Sekhmet was getting frustrated. There was energy, power seeping from the very walls of the palace, and he saw how easily Anubis used that network of energy to get from place to place. He had been able to call on the armor itself to go to Earth and back, but this... jumping from place to place he was unable to master.
      Wearing only his comfortable subarmor, he concentrated again on vanishing from his chambers and appearing in the hall outside. The energy accepted him into itself easily, but as he focused it jerked him through the ether and dropped him where it wanted.
      Sekhmet cursed and tried again, and again. He got closer to his intended destination the more he practiced, but his head was beginning to ache with the effort. I'm sure Anubis never had this much trouble. He's probably laughing his head off at me right now! He didn't like the other Warlord much. He always acted superior, always looked at him as if he was some kind of foolish child. And I don't care if he was here before me...
      Distracted, the next time he entered the energy he couldn't control it at all. He was tossed all the way to the other side of the palace and down underneath the ground, in a part of the castle he'd never seen before. He materialized into darkness, a single blue-flamed torch flickering behind him.
      Sekhmet pulled it away from the wall and moved forward, curious as to where he was. It looked like a kind of dungeon, but he'd already been to the main ones. They were nothing like this dark, woody-smelling corridor. As he continued on, a strange feeling began to creep up his nerves. It felt almost threatening, in a way.
      Sekhmet called his armor, feeling the air wave out around him, the torch flickering, total darkness blanketing his eyes and then leaving. Immediately he felt more confident, powerful. Whatever was down here wouldn't stand a chance now if it dared to attack him.
      At the end of the hall there was a door, and that was all. It was made of stone, with a mass of entwining snakes carved on its face. Each one had tiny gems set in place to serve as eyes, and a large gem in the middle of the mass glowed purple, then red, then orange and green and blue, rotating through the entire spectrum in a hypnotizing way.
      He placed a gauntleted hand against the door, tracing the carvings. The power was great here, sealing the door closed. Sekhmet wanted to get to the other side of it, had to. The door wouldn't budge, however. In fact, he wasn't sure it even was a door. Perhaps it was just a carving on the rock face.
      He jammed the torch into a wall bracket, closed his eyes, and focused again. The energy was concentrated especially thickly here at this spot, drawing him in and through. With almost effortless ease he had teleported through the door and into whatever lay beyond.
      Sekhmet opened his eyes to find himself in a huge lighted cavern-- yellow light, the light of Earth. In the light, which came from everywhere and nowhere, stood many tall human-like figures. As he stood there, watching, more and more appeared, teleporting and entering in from adjacent caves. When his eyes had adjusted to the light, Sekhmet looked in what felt like awe at his father's kin -- the snake-gods, his people.
      They were staring at him as well, looking on in amazement. Perhaps one or two hundred people made their way into the cavern. All of them had a kind of alien beauty about them, their eyes huge and slitted, glittering scales on their bodies, many with hair colors humans could never possess.
      Finally one stepped forward, a male with shortish brown hair that was shaved on the sides and stuck up on top, falling forward over his face. "Who are you?" he demanded, arms folded. "How did you get in? None of Talpa's servants can come through that door."
      Sekhmet smiled to himself and removed his helmet, letting it disappear. His symbol glowed brilliantly on his forehead, and they recognized it immediately. There was astonishment and then anger from them, murmuring and whispers. "It's you!" the brown-haired one exclaimed. "Essah's bastard!"
      "Yes, I am Sekhmet, the Warlord of Venom," he announced, noting with faint delight that this seemed to make many of them flinch.
      "But... it can't be! Aoi sacrificed herself to keep you out of the Dynasty!"
      "Did she now?" Sekhmet responded, curious. "What happened to her?"
      The man came forward, frowning, his vertical pupils narrowing angrily. "I will show you." The snake-god put a hand lightly on his arm, and they both vanished, appearing in a dark room. Sekhmet called a torch into his hand -- that he could do, at least -- and saw that they were in the lower dungeons of the palace. His guide stayed behind as he went to the back of the cell.
      The faint blue light illuminated a corpse chained to the wall, a body identifiable as Aoi's. He felt nauseous looking at it. He had seen a lot of disease in his time, but nothing at all like this. She was rotting, maggots infesting the flesh, her skin falling off to reveal dead muscle and infected tissue. Her right eyeball hung by a nerve from its socket, resting lightly on her sunken cheek. He raised a hand to his face to block out the stench and to cover his mouth, just in case.
      He took an involuntary step back. "Why don't you get rid of the body?" he croaked in revulsion, unable to tear his eyes away.
      "Aoi," the man behind him called, "there's someone here to see you."
      Sekhmet glanced back at him in shock and confusion and terror and then back down at her, his heart beating in his throat. The corpse turned her head and looked directly at him. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods... The phrase ran through his mind, unstoppable. She's still alive!
      He mastered his disgust, bracing himself and taking a few deep breaths. He dropped his hand and came closer, crouching down next to her as a strange crackle of light ran off her body and into the air. "Oh, gods," he said softly, "what happened?"
      Her voice was no more than a whisper, the vocal cords obviously straining. "Sekhmet... I am... failed..." Her lips moved, no sound coming out, and then she spoke in his mind, faintly making herself heard. >>I am punished for you... you stay home. Not here, no... there. I cannot die, not now, not until a blade free me. Sekhmet... is you. You...<<
      His mouth filled with the taste of bile, and he choked it back down, burning his throat. She was silent for a long time. "Aoi?" he said tentatively.
      >>I die and die but I can't die!<<
      Her mental scream filled his mind, caused him to drop the torch and clamp both his hands over his ears as though it would help. "Stop it!" he yelled, leaning over close to the ground. The torch fluttered but stayed alight.
      >>Help me...<<
      "Why have none of the others freed you yet?"
      >>They cannot. No weapon can they have, no blade. Must have blade...<<
      He frowned, remembering. "Essah had one. Couldn't he have done it?" Sekhmet asked frantically.
      >>Essah...<< Her soundless voice was full of longing. >>Essah doesn't know. Essah never came back...<<
      Sekhmet clutched at his chest where the orb would be, feeling guilty. He'd always hated that feeling, promised himself he'd never feel it again. To never worry about his actions, to always be free from remorse and guilt. They expected him to free her, to release her from her punishment. "What's that light?" he asked as the flickering energy ran off her again.
      >>Talpa eats my power. He grows... I shrink. He takes and takes and punishes and hurts...<<
      Sekhmet closed his eyes, clenching his fists, and then opened them again, staring at her. She saw, read his mind in his eyes, and her keening wail filled his thoughts, ate at his very core. "Enough!" he gritted, jaw clenched, and stood.
      He turned deliberately away and faced the other snake-god, who had an unbelieving expression on his face. "We are leaving!" he told him, and the man simply nodded, going over and picking up the torch, brushing Aoi's hand gently. A patch of skin fell off at the contact, and he sighed wearily. Returning to the other side, he touched Sekhmet's arm again, reluctantly, and snuffed the torch before returning them to the great lighted cavern.
      At their return, all the others looked at him hopefully, and, although he wanted to look away, he met their eyes without blinking. They saw as well what he had done, what he had decided. Some of them looked poised and ready to attack him, but others calmed them down. The man at his side left him and went over to join his people.
      "Now," Sekhmet began slowly, speaking as if they were children instead of immortal, ancient beings. "I want you to tell me exactly why you are slaves of the Dynasty, and what Essah's part was in all of this."
      After some hesitation, a female with pale green hair stepped forward, to the dismay of the others. "He needs to know," she told them softly. "Half his blood is Essah's, and he should know the deeds of his sire in centuries past."
      The woman turned back to him, smiling gently. "When the world was young, we lived in great golden palaces and were free to do what we pleased. No master ruled us or could have -- we had great power and used it. Humans then were as animals, little more than apes. They worshiped us along with their own gods as time passed. But we were not content to stay the way we were."
      Another one took up where she left off. "We killed each other. We fought amongst ourselves and killed each other until almost all that were left you see here before you. Yet, one among us, a young male called Essah, sought to make peace. He went between the opponents, always neutral, never taking sides, but no one would listen to his words. We just went on warring and killing..." He sighed. "Essah saw that we were on the verge of wiping each other out, and so he slipped away from his parents and family and gained entrance to the Netherworld."
      He sat down and the same man who had taken Sekhmet to the dungeon strode forward. "Essah made a deal with Talpa, Lord of the Dynasty. He... sold us, sold his people into slavery! And what did he receive for this, for our lives? Talpa gave him a broken trinket, a 'Jewel of Life', a worthless relic! And he didn't even keep it!" the man shouted, almost sputtering in rage. "He gave it away!"
      The first woman soothed the brown-haired man, hushing him. "Essah was little more than a child then, but his plan did do what he had hoped. We stopped fighting, and he promised to free us. Essah is our hope, our leader," she said. "And yet even he could not escape Talpa. The demon held us hostage, threatening to exterminate us if Essah did not serve him loyally and faithfully."
      She looked at the ground briefly. "And he has. Talpa trusts him, knowing Essah would do anything for him, even kill one of us if Talpa asked. He plays his role, so that we may be freed. He is our bane... but he is also our hope."
      Sekhmet looked around at them all, standing there in the cavern somberly, fallen gods, and felt nothing except superiority. He started to chuckle, and they stared at him in shock.
      "How perfectly pathetic," he laughed. "And you call yourselves gods? And Essah is the greatest among you?" He suppressed his laughter, smirking. "You have proven beyond my wildest dreams that you are not as perfect as you have thought."
      He began to pace back and forth, suddenly stopping and turning to them. "I do believe you can think of nothing but yourselves," he began. "You leave bastard half-breeds to die and suffer on Earth, suffer worse than you believe yourselves to suffer here in the Dynasty. They are your children, and if you're going to fuck with humans you should take responsibility for them, yes?" He noted with pleasure that several of them, both men and women, looked guilty.
      Fading memories of Chadih surfaced in his mind, the starving pale face of the dying child, her eyes looking at him though the darkness, dead and empty. "A half-breed girl died in my arms," he said darkly, "for nothing. No one wanted her. She didn't even have a name. The humans don't want us. You don't want us. The lives of my kind mean nothing at all."
      Sekhmet extended his arm and called for the orb. It appeared in his hand, and he curled his fingers around it tightly. "You're supposed to be so powerful. You can't rely on Essah to save you now. You'll have to do it yourselves."
      "What is that supposed to mean?" someone demanded irately.
      He grinned, reaching for the orb's chain and lifting it up for them to see. "Father and I had a little disagreement," he said, flicking the orb gently. It swung back and forth, shining with a dim green glow. "Say hello to your friends, Essah," he told the orb.
      "This is not possible!" someone cried, pushing their way up to him. He took the orb in his hands, and it pulsed rapidly. The snake-god let go of it quickly, his large eyes full of despair. The others burst out into shocked exclamations, and Sekhmet waited until they were finished, delighted at their reactions.
      "Here's your hope," he said, letting the orb fall back down to the end of its chain. "You know," he commented conversationally, "you really should be more careful with your children."
      He focused and teleported before the effect of his little speech could wear off. He had no specific destination in mind, and so when he arrived he was relived to see that he knew where he was. The large room he was in was like a kind of library, and enormous blue-flamed fire burning at the end of it.
      There was a sudden flash of light, and Sekhmet turned around, not exactly surprised to see a snake-goddess standing there. She fairly glittered with self-importance, not one thing out of place. Her hair sported four different colors, and each separate hue was braided and coiled around her head. "What do you want?" he asked tiredly.
      "My name is Kiyaa," she said, approaching him. "I want to ask you about that child you said died."
      "What about her?" he asked suspiciously.
      "What did she look like?" Kiyaa asked intently.
      He described her, peering at the snake-goddess and suddenly knowing why she was so interested. "You little bitch!" he breathed. "She was yours, wasn't she?"
      Kiyaa nodded and turned to look into the fire, wrapping her arms around herself. "Yes... about seven or eight years ago I consorted with a human and bore a half-breed girl. I did not want her to grow up in the Dynasty and be turned to evil, so when she was four I gave her to a human to raise. I did not name her so I would not get attached to her, and instructed the human not to either until the girl was eight years of age. By then I would have forgotten about her and not want to take her back."  Kiyaa turned to look at him. "I really don't know how she could have ended up with you. She was healthy and well when I left her. And yet you say she died..."
      Sekhmet glared at her in disgust. "Died? Yes, she died. She died of starvation and from being beaten by human children. I gave her a name. I marked her as my own, and I helped her to die in peace. And because you all can't stay away from the humans and stick to your own kind, how many more will die the same way?"
      Her eyes opened wide. "How dare you say that! You can never know what it is like for us, to be slaves here for thousands of years! Our children cannot be born through pain or into pain. There have been no true-blooded children since we were enslaved. We can hardly even find pleasure in each other... how dare you judge us! You are only a bastard."
      Oh, I'll make you pay for what you have done! "I know only what I know," he replied. "And I know that Talpa won't miss you at all!" He drew the swords on his back, crossing the blades.
      "I wouldn't try it, little boy," she answered, a deadly expression on her face. One of her hands glowed with energy, and she raised it in the air. "One way or another, Talpa will lose a slave today."
      He growled and lunged forward, swords extended, and she braced herself, ready to defend. Just seconds before they clashed together, mocking laughter was heard from the doorway. Both Kiyaa and Sekhmet paused, turning toward the source.
      Anubis stood in the entrance, laughing at them. "Oh, please do tell me what's going on here," he said, grinning widely. "Tell me, is it merely practice or something serious?"
      Neither of them was willing to tell him, however, and with a shrug he came further into the room. "Go back with the others," he ordered, pointing at Kiyaa, and with a curt bow she obeyed. Anubis looked at him as he resheathed his swords. "Fighting women?" he said, smirking. "Surely you can find a better opponent."
      Sekhmet glared at him and turned on his heel, stalking out the door, the shreds of his dignity trailing behind him. If he'd had to choose the most important thing he'd learned that day, it would have to be the fact that he truly hated Anubis.

      Sekhmet entered the throne room in full armor, summoned by his master. He bowed after approaching the throne and the floating helmet above it. "You have called for me, my emperor?" he asked.
      "I have an assignment for you, Sekhmet," he boomed. "It is time for you to go to Earth. It is time to invite the next man destined to be a Warlord to join the Dynasty."
      He nodded in acknowledgment, and the large viewscreen sprang into life at one end of the dark room. The green backdrop of a forest became visible, and the figure of a man, small in comparison to the tall dark trees, could also be seen.
      It seemed that the viewscreen came closer to the man, and Sekhmet looked at him curiously. His clothes were ragged and dirty, and his hair was wavy, tangled, and very long. Strangely, it was pure white, although his face was young. His left eye was sewn closed and was encrusted in dried blood. He was stalking silently through the woods after some unseen prey.
      "This is Rajiyura Dayus," Talpa announced behind him. "He once was the general of a great army, but he was captured by an oni and his mind was stolen. He is under her control, and you will need to break her hold on him before inviting him to join me."
      "How must I do this?" Sekhmet asked, turning back to face his master.
      A length of chain appeared in the air and floated over toward him, glowing a dim red. "It is not hard to accomplish. Merely break the talisman to break the curse." He took the chain as it hovered in front of him and coiled it, hanging it at his waist. "I will know when Dayus accepts the offer."
      Sekhmet nodded, and turned to look at the image on the screen. I want to go there, he thought, and jumped, his form disappearing tracelessly into the darkness.
      He arrived in the forest without a problem, looking around at his surroundings before starting to move forward. It was dark, the trees huge with age. It almost reminded him of the Dark Sister, in a way.
      Sekhmet peered around, frowning. Dayus was nowhere in sight, but, his senses heightened by the influence of his armor, he felt that someone was nearby. Better be careful... don't know how he'll react. He stopped walking and waited.
      Dayus walked right onto the path and stopped still, staring. Sekhmet opened his mouth to say something, but Dayus simply turned on his heel and ran. "Damn it, wait!" he shouted, tearing off after him. "Wait! Dayus! Stop running!"
      At the sound of his name the man paused, not turning around. He looked back over his shoulder and said something in a strange, soft, clicking language.  Sekhmet tried to edge a little closer, carefully, trying to avoid scaring him like he would avoid scaring a deer, but the man darted forward again, running quickly over fallen leaves and pine needles with hardly a sound. Sekhmet followed unerringly until he caught up again. Perhaps the armor scares him, he thought, pulling off his helmet and sending it away so he'd have both hands free.
      Dayus turned and looked at him, this time saying something identifiable as a human language. "Who are you? Do you want to hurt her? You can't hurt her."
      "My name's Sekhmet," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you."
      "Are you going to hurt her?" Dayus persisted, speaking almost as if he were a child. It sounded strange, this simpleness from someone with a deep, adult voice.
      "Her?"
      "The oni. You can't hurt her. I love her."
      "I'm not going to hurt the oni," he said, edging a bit closer. "What are you doing here?" Dayus said nothing but did not run, looking at Sekhmet with unabashed interest. "How did you get here?" he tried again.
      Dayus shook his head. "I can't tell you. You want to hurt the oni."
      "I'm not going to do anything to your oni!" he said sharply. "Trust me, Dayus."
      "Trust?" he said, turning his head sideways. "The oni says not to trust. She knows everything. She is everything." He continued on in the strange language.
      The oni language, Sekhmet realized. He looked at Dayus closely. "What about before the oni?" he asked.
      He frowned, looking confused. "There's nothing before the oni," Dayus said, gesturing wildly. "I have been with the oni forever. I love her!" he shouted.
      "Well, you had to have known something before the oni," Sekhmet pointed out. "How else would you be able to talk to me?"
      Dayus grew flustered at this reasoning, mouth moving soundlessly, and then he suddenly broke into a rage. "You're lying! You're lying! You want to hurt her!" He waved his arms, the threads binding his eye closed suddenly glittering.
      There was a tremendous, ear-splitting roar, and a monstrous undead army appeared in front of him, flesh hanging from the re-animated bones. Sekhmet reached back and drew his swords reflexively, his eyes widening in surprise. How did he do that? I can't believe it! The army advanced on him, and he stood defensively, waiting.
      He couldn't defend against all of them at once, and one of the corpses slipped past his swords and struck at him, the metal of its staff banging against the shoulderplate of his armor. I see why Talpa wants him as a Warlord, Sekhmet thought, parrying another blow. His power even without armor is great...
      He remembered seeing Dayus's eye glittering as he called the army, and had a sudden thought. Sekhmet crouched down and leapt into the air, his armor's power helping to carry him safely over the undead and next to Dayus. Letting go of a sword and freezing it in mid-air with his mind, he punched him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.
      He took the hilt of his sword, sheathing both of them and watching in satisfaction as the army's image suddenly flickered and went transparent, eventually dissolving into nothingness. He smiled and turned back to the other man, who was lying curled on the ground, sobbing.
      He hesitated a moment, unsure. "Dayus," he said, and the man looked up at him. "Oh, get up," he said finally, and then bent and hauled Dayus to his feet. The strange mist of madness and control swirling in his one eye had begun to clear, if only a little. He simply stood, staring at him.
      In a voice hardly above a whisper, Dayus began to speak. "I hate her. I hate her, I hate what she makes me do!"
      "I can help you," Sekhmet said softly. "Master Talpa of the Dynasty has made it possible. He wants you to join the Dynasty, too, Dayus, and you can have power and glory and the oni can never hurt you again. Don't you remember, Dayus? You used to fight in the army, you used to be a general. Remember the way that made you feel? You can have your life back again."
      His one violet eye burned with a strange fire. "Yes, I want that, I want you to help me..."
      He reached for the chain, pulling it forward and uncoiling it, letting the links of the long chain fall to the ground. He took one and end and then the other, placing them in Dayus's hands and curling his fingers around it. He crouched down and reached for the middle of the chain, standing and holding it in front of his face. It slowly began to glow red, the glow traveling through both of them until they were outlined in a scarlet halo.
      Sekhmet, staring into Dayus's haunted face, yanked hard. The links bent apart and snapped audibly. The glow around Dayus flared, and he screamed in agony, dropping the chain and falling forward. Sekhmet hastily let go of his ends and grabbed his wrists, holding him up.
      He could see images of strangers, people he had never met, remembering them as if they were his own. Dayus's parents, siblings, one young man especially standing out. Also there was a pretty black-haired woman, a child, and at the last a monster, spider-shaped, that could only be the oni, and even then she transformed into a silver-haired woman of breathtaking beauty. Thoughts and memories not his own filled his mind, sweeping him away as Dayus tried desperately to escape the onslaught, crying out in pain.
      <--"But what if they die?"
      "I'm not gonna let that happen, Mori, no matter what they say. She can keep her honor, but she's gonna keep her life too!"-->
      <--"You are perhaps one of the greatest warriors I have ever seen. Rajiyura Dayus, I name you General and head of this army."-->
      <--"Look, Dayus! Isn't he beautiful? Look, we have a son!"-->
      <--"I'm afraid you have come home to tragedy. Your brother Mori was chosen by the oni for her sacrifice. He is to be given to her at dawn."-->
      <--"I know you have to do this, but please be careful! Come back home to me..."
      "I love you, Aki, and I love our son, and I am going to kill that oni and come back to you, you'll see!"-->
      <--"You, you, you! It's always you! I was going to be the hero, I was going to kill the oni and save our village, but you had to come home and ruin it all! The great general saving his people... well, no more! It's my turn, Dayus! I'll be second to you no longer!"-->
      <--"No! No, damn you, you killed my brother!"
      "He just tried to kill you, little thing. Turnabout's fair play, is it not?"-->
      <--"There is darkness in the heart of every mortal, little thing, even you. And in you especially it runs deep... dark and deep, there is evil in your heart, Dayus of the Mortals! All you need is something to bring it to the front. You will become like me. You will be like an oni, my little Dayus, and all the world will weep!-->
      The last of the images swept before Sekhmet's eyes, that of Dayus as he used to be -- a handsome young man with two violet eyes, his hair dark brown, not a trace of the haunted look on his face. And then that picture disappeared, and his own thoughts and the darkness of the forest returned to him.
      Dayus was shuddering, and when he looked up the madness was gone, his eye clear of the strange swirling clouds. But he was still disoriented, shaking his head. When he looked up, Sekhmet asked, "What do you remember?"
      "Everything," he replied unsteadily, "everything. I will tell you... I must tell someone." He nodded, and Dayus began speaking. "I come home from war to find that an oni is threatening my village, that every year she demands a human sacrifice or she will destroy us. That year she chose my younger brother, Mori, to be her sacrifice."
      He swallowed a bit. "I volunteer in his place, hoping to kill the oni. We arrange for some men to hide in the forest near the altar, and they will attack her and distract her before she can take me away to her lair. Mori is... was one of those men.
      "When the day comes, she accepts me and picks me up, dragging me off... I struggle but can not get free. Only one of the men jump out as planned and shoots an arrow at the oni. She stops then, and turns around. Mori is standing there, yelling. He is... jealous of me. He wants to kill the oni himself... I can't believe what I am hearing.
      "Mori shoots an arrow at me as I am hanging from the oni's claws. She moves aside and takes it herself, but it doesn't hurt her. She kills him, my brother, and then takes me away, deep into the forest. She appears to me as a woman, and says her name is Silver. She says she has great plans for me if I am strong enough to survive. If I am not, my bones will join those of the rest of my clan and she will take another sacrifice the next year."
      Dayus's good eye pierced into his, and his voice grew softer and more intense. "She tells me of the power she can give me. I can change my shape and create images, illusions to deceive the eye and soul. And I want this, more than I want to kill her, or free myself. She can give this to me, if I can do two things. I must lose an eye... I think this is not so bad a price for such power. But then she says I must kill one of my own blood... I must kill my own son for her to... eat."
      Sekhmet stared at him, not saying a word. Could I do it? If it was asked of me, could I kill my own child to gain such power? Yes, he decided suddenly, yes, I could.
      "You do not see," Dayus said sadly, watching the play of emotion on his face. "I cannot do this thing she asks. She will not give me food unless I agree. I refuse again and again, even when I am starving. Finally she must bring me the carcass of a deer to eat if I am to survive. She thinks I have much promise and won't let me go so soon. It is raw, but I eat it anyway. She will not bring me another. And then it starts again. I am starving, going to die."
      He closed his eye briefly before continuing. "But I don't want to die."
      "You did it?" Sekhmet asked, tightening his grip on Dayus's wrists. "Yes, you must have. You have your power..."
      He nodded sickly. "I did," he whispered. "When I am well again she brings a child to me, stolen from my village. I see that the child is a girl, not mine, and I say so. But she shows me an image of my home, my wife... she has borne a daughter to me while I have been imprisoned, and to the oni the blood of girls is more powerful than that of boys.
      "I do it. I slit her throat and offer her to the oni. I am crying, I think, but the promise of power is too great in my mind... when she is finished the oni says that I must pay the rest of the price. She spins thread and then changes into human form, holding me down. She sews my eye closed, and it hurts, as if I had a gotten a sword through it. I scream and thrash and almost die. I wish I had died, for after I can only do the oni's will and none of my own. I can not remember anything at all of before.
      "I lure people to her, for her to eat and practice her arts upon. I use my powers, they think I am ill, and when they come near they are caught. She lets them loose and hunts them in her caves, and I go along sometimes... I will do anything for her, anything." Dayus almost choked on the words. "They see me, I am human, and they think I will help. They hope... but then they scream as I... I..." He gasped and tried futilely to pull away. "I cannot do this anymore!"
      The last syllable faded into silence, and Sekhmet stared at him, Dayus looking back, for a long minute. He was almost stunned, not knowing what to think, deciding that it didn't really matter anyway.
      A tremor ran through the wilderness, the air growing thick and leaden. He looked around quickly and then back at Dayus, who was merely standing there calmly. One corner of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile.
      "She comes."
      There was a huge crashing noise as bushes and small trees were knocked over from the force of the oni's passage. She crashed into the area, incredibly angry because her spell had been broken. The air around her was dense and heavy with rage. She was shaped like a gigantic spider, the spiny hairs around her mandibles stained red.
      Sekhmet moved back a step but resisted the urge to draw his swords. The oni paused a moment, turning her many eyes to Dayus. He looked at her, and something unseen seemed to pass between them.
      "No, Silver, you can control me no longer!" Dayus suddenly shouted at her, clenching his fists. "I belong to you no more!" With a quick gesture, the form of another huge spider was there in front of him. He sent it running at the oni. "See, I can even use your own powers against you!"
      She fought the illusion-become-reality furiously, finally tearing through it. It wavered and disappeared into a cloud of mist. Silver spoke in her own language, looking between Dayus and Sekhmet. Dayus winced in pain and darted back quickly, a hand on his head. A loud, high-pitched roar filled the air as she turned and charged at Sekhmet.
      He did draw his swords then, shouting, "Now's your chance, Dayus! You can have your revenge for what she made you do!" The white-haired man nodded, rolling smoothly out of the beast's way and over to where the two long halves of the chain talisman lay forgotten on the ground. He swept one up and ran back over, leaping and climbing onto the oni's back as she was preoccupied with her attack, clutching the long insectile hairs.
      She shook herself, roaring in annoyance, but Dayus clung tenaciously, climbing up to right behind the place where her head was attached to her body. Sekhmet pressed forward, nicking her, the venom from his sword blade smoking in the wound. The oni screamed, lowering her head and racing forward. He evaded, leaping away easily, and when she stopped Dayus leaned out, raising the chain.
      He swung it down and up, catching the end and fiercely twisting it tight, his jaw clenched. Silver writhed, trying to desperately to shake him loose. Dayus pulled the chain tighter and tighter. Suddenly the oni's legs gave out beneath her great body and she fell, rolling to the side. Dayus jumped away to keep from being crushed, but as soon as she was down he came back and grabbed the ends of the chain again.
      Sekhmet watched, getting his breath back, watched as the huge spider slowly departed. And then it was over, her dead legs still kicking spasmodically. Dayus pulled the chain away from her and dropped it, standing next to the body and staring at it for a long time. It's been too long to be good for him, Sekhmet resolved after a few minutes, striding up to Dayus and grabbing his elbow. He blinked at him, and then Sekhmet teleported them both.
      He felt a wave of satisfaction as they landed outside a large town, exactly where he wanted to be. Sekhmet, deciding that it wasn't worth it to terrify the people at the moment, sent away his armor, banishing it into a deep green crystal. The robes he wore now were very expensive, those of a samurai lord.
      He smiled and pocketed the crystal, turning to gaze at Dayus. The other man was looking around at the town in shock, staring as people began to exit the gates and more began to appear from further down the road.
      Sekhmet made himself be patient with him. Remember, he hasn't been to a town in however long it's been, he told himself, pulling Dayus forward, entering the town like he owned it. The thing now is to get him looking human again.
      The two strange-looking young men moving through town generated many stares and comments. Children followed after them, whispering to each other. He merely ignored them, wishing he could rid himself of them but not willing to risk it while they still needed something from these annoying humans. The inn he spotted was closed for the day, but he burst through the door nonetheless, Dayus in tow.
      The proprietor was sitting at a table, bending over some papers, and his family and workers were scattered around the establishment, tending to their chores. They all looked up, shocked, as he entered, shutting the door to keep out prying eyes. The innkeeper looked as if he was about to protest, but Sekhmet glared at him, overwhelming him, and he drew back.
      "Get him cleaned up," Sekhmet commanded, shoving a confused Dayus forward. He tossed some coins at the innkeeper. "And get me a drink while I'm waiting."
      "Oh, um, yes, of course, my lord." Flustered, the proprietor nodded and bowed, ushering Dayus out of the room as one of his staff poured the sake. Sekhmet sat at a table, sipping it, and waited. They were all afraid of him, for the usual reasons, but it felt different this time. This time their fear was sweet, tasted better to him than the rice wine he was drinking did.
      When Dayus returned, Sekhmet hardly recognized him. The long waves of his hair had been cut back to his shoulders and combed out, and he was wearing clean robes. Probably the best the innkeeper owns, Sekhmet thought, noting sourly that despite the white hair and sewn-up eye the proprietor's wife was looking at him invitingly. He gestured Dayus to a seat across from him, ordering a drink for him and sending everyone else out of the room. The man was much calmer, drinking his wine, memory in his eye.
      "I'm remembering this, too," he said. "Towns and inns and people... women..." He glanced back at the door the others had gone through.
      "You do know why I have done this, yes?" Sekhmet asked, leaning forward.
      Dayus nodded slowly. "Talpa... the Dynasty. He wants me to join it." He sounded unsure, however. "Why?"
      "It's your destiny," he said, "the same way mine was. There's no way to escape it, you know. And besides, what's to escape? Talpa's giving you power, and glory, and immortality."
      "For what price?" Dayus reached up to touch his eye briefly. "All power has a price."
      "You must live in the Nether realm and serve Master Talpa," Sekhmet shrugged. "Beyond that, nothing."
      "This sounds too good to be true."
      "Think about it. You'd still be with the oni if it weren't for Talpa. The armor you will receive gets its power from him, and his power is limitless. He will rule this world soon... is it not better to go with the winning side than to live and die a powerless slave?"
      "I will think about it," Dayus said cautiously, tapping his fingers on the table.
      Sekhmet nodded and stood. "You do that. Talpa will know your answer." He reached into a sleeve and drew out a small sack of money, tossing it at the other man. He caught it reflexively, glancing down at it and then back up.
      He moved a little ways away from the table, preparing to teleport. "Oh, and Dayus?" he said just before he left. Dayus looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. "You really should get something to cover that eye."

      Dayus joined the Dynasty two days later. Sekhmet and Anubis stood near the demon lord's throne, watching as he entered the room for the first time, crossing to the throne and immediately kneeling. Talpa was right, he thought. We are destined to wear these armors.
      The yoroi Dayus wore was spider-shaped, six naginatas arranged on his back. As he stood and glanced back at them, Sekhmet could see that the helmet was vaguely spidery as well. Dayus pledged his service, already looking comfortable in his new surroundings.
      As the days passed on, he saw that the new Warlord of Deception was a completely different person than the man he had met in the forest. Cold, composed, there was nothing about him to suggest he had ever been anything else.
      He was civil toward the two other Dark Warlords, although something in his manner toward Sekhmet was a bit different. He had seen Dayus at his worst, and that made both of them feel as if he had an advantage.
      The three of them had taken to spending time in the large library-like room, having nothing else to do. Sekhmet sat in a chair away from the others, idly fiddling with a blank piece of paper and wishing for perhaps a little action. Anubis and Dayus sat closer to the blue-flamed fire, having a conversation, and he listened to them talk.
      Anubis had a book in front of him, and he tapped at certain passages as he spoke. "But we had our revenge," he was saying, "rather similar to the one described here. We... suggested to the man that he kill himself honorably and not suffer the humiliation at being defeated by one so much younger." Dayus nodded. It was a common practice to force someone to commit seppuku, one of the most honorable ways to die. "He relented," Anubis continued, "and--"
      Sekhmet was tuning him out, not really interested in tales, when a word caught in his mind. Revenge. Several images surfaced along with almost forgotten pain: the bloody body of a brown-haired woman on the ground, the cheers and the whip and the stones and the blood...
      He stood up suddenly, Anubis and Dayus glancing at him. "Revenge!" he said, mind working quickly. What do I need to do before they die? The others were looking at him questioningly, but he merely teleported out of the room. He needed to prepare.

      The sky ahead was the darkening purple-gray of dusk, barely seen through the thick canopy of trees. Sekhmet stood on the outskirts of the Dark Sister, the low hill protected from view by a thick layer of leaves. The group of soldiers he'd taken with him stood still as statues at the bottom of the hill, waiting for his commands. Only one of them stood next to him -- he'd made sure he had one with the intelligence to pass as a human.
      He turned to the soldier and used his armor's power to create a brief image, showing it to the soldier. The illusion was blurry but the intention was clear, and it understood immediately who it was to find. Sekhmet let the image of the man go, sighing a bit heavily.
      Unlike Dayus, who could create images as easily as he breathed, he had to work at it. Absently he resolved to practice that as he concentrated. Slowly but surely, the gray-armored soldier wavered and changed, appearing to all outside views as an average, nondescript human traveler. When he was finished, the soldier turned and left, walking toward the town. He watched a bit nervously and was relieved to see that the image held.
      Sekhmet waited a bit impatiently for the soldier's return, looking around at the familiar surroundings. It was nearly springtime here on Earth, another mild winter passing into life and renewal. He tapped his fingers on the hilt of one of the swords at his waist, pausing as his gaze caught on a hollow near the bottom of the hill.
      There's where the clan throws the bodies of the dead who do not deserve burial, he thought, unconsciously clenching the sword hilt. He had gone there once as a child, wandered among the bleached bones of other outcasts. I would have ended there, and I know that Lyonta's bones are there now, too. Her name stayed fresh in his mind, although the memory of her face was beginning to fade. He let go of the sword and began to pace. The consort of a demon would not be allowed to rest with the heroes of the town. They just dumped her there without ceremony, while her twice-cursed father was likely buried with honor in hallowed ground!
      "They will get what they give," he muttered, turning back as two figures left the road close by and began to walk toward him. "Every single one will lie unburied by sunrise, and my revenge will be complete. Every single one!" he vowed, suddenly standing still. Two men climbed to the top of the hill, and Sekhmet gestured. The illusion faded instantly, the soldier nodding at him.
      The other man jumped back in surprise, looking like a rabbit suddenly trapped in a snare. "What-- who..." he blurted, staring at Sekhmet. He removed his helmet, dropped it to the ground.
      "Hello, Datai," Sekhmet said. "Surely you remember me, old friend."
      The blonde man was pale. "Sekhmet!" he exclaimed. "How-- what happened to you?"
      "Nothing I choose to explain," he responded. "Know only that I am now a Dark Warlord of the Dynasty." He paused a moment as shock washed across the other man's face. "So, tell me, Datai, did you ever get married?"
      "Well, yes," he sputtered, "but I hardly see--"
      Sekhmet cut him off with a gesture. "Bring your wife to me." Datai looked as if he was about to protest, but he merely kept on speaking. "And children, if you have them."
      "But, Sekhmet!" He gestured weakly. "What... what are you going to do?"
      The Warlord's face was as still as marble. "If you wish them to live, you will bring them." Datai grew even more pale, shaking. Slowly, he folded his arms, eyes wide with realization, and bowed. Sekhmet laughed softly. "You haven't changed, have you? Go now and return as quickly as you can. Take nothing with you. If I see anything out of the usual happening in the town, I will assume you have spoken of my presence and I will kill your family, Datai, and then I will kill you. Understand?"
      He nodded, took a few deep breaths to steel himself, and quickly ran off. Sekhmet shook his head. He was taking a risk in sending Datai back alone, but he didn't think he had enough energy to cloak the soldier again. I don't want them to have any warning.
      He did not have to wait long for him to come back, accompanied by a young woman carrying a small boy. Sekhmet frowned when he saw her. She looked too familiar, but frustratingly he couldn't place her. Her hair was dark orange and long, her eyes huge and black. She was wearing a robe of white, shrinking back against her husband.
      "Well, you must introduce us, Datai," he said finally, meeting her eyes with his own. She shivered but did not look away.
      "You don't remember?" he said hoarsely. "This is your sister, Jynavy. We were married two, almost three years ago. We have a son, Akemi." He waved a hand at the sleeping boy.
      Sekhmet blinked, looking at her even more closely. All he remembered was a girl, a small child clinging to his mother's skirts. "Ah, yes. You resemble your father," he said darkly. She frowned, holding Akemi closer. "Greetings, sister," he hailed sardonically, bowing. "You are quite the lucky girl! Only the fact that you are married to my only living friend has saved your life."
      "I remember you, too," she said quietly, staring up at him.
      He began to pace again. It was almost time. "You were too young," he told her.
      "No... I remember a whipping." He glared at her, and she flinched but didn't stop speaking. "There have been others since then, but I remember yours because you were so quiet. Mother wouldn't let me speak of you, Sekhmet. She used to cry... she loved you."
      "Lies," he spat. "I will believe that cold-hearted bitch loved me when I believe that Datai here will grow wings and fly away. She will die with the others. You, however, will live. I give my word."
      Tears ran from Jynavy's eyes, and she wiped them away with her free hand, shaking her head. "Please don't do this," Datai asked him, holding her close. "Please, Sekhmet, don't do this."
      "I will do what I please," he responded. There was a sudden scuffling among the soldiers below, and he spun to look down at them. One dragged up to him an old woman, holding her above the ground by her robe.
      "Spy," it croaked, dropping her to the ground. She struggled to her feet, old legs shaking, white hair thin and sparse.
      "Seer?" Datai said in amazement. "What are you doing here?"
      "Yes," Sekhmet hissed, "what are you doing here, old one?"
      The little seer woman stood directly in front of him, looking up with no fear at all. When she saw Datai and his family she began to cackle in glee, pointing at them. Mirth shook her frame so violently she threatened to fall over. She addressed the Warlord, still pointing at his sister and her husband. "The Five Mistakes!" she laughed. "You and your comrades, immortal one, have, are, and will make five mistakes that lead to the downfall of your Dynasty! No halt, no pause, to turning back is there now!"
      Sekhmet was not in the mood for games. He drew two swords, pointing them at her. "Explain yourself, prophet," he demanded. "Explain yourself well."
      "Please, no," Jynavy said, shifting the sleeping form of her son. "She's crazy, Sekhmet, she doesn't know what she's saying!"
      The seer giggled, leveling her finger directly at Akemi. "Floating amongst the eyes of the ages," she intoned, "unmoored in the stream of the sky!" She looked straight at him and laughed.
      Almost nonchalantly, he said, "That's not good enough." Taking one step forward, he raised a sharp blade and sliced through the old prophet. Even as she crumpled to the ground her laughter rang in his ears. Jynavy screamed, waking her son. He turned abruptly as the boy began to cry, blood from his sword spattering his sister.
      "Shut the child up," he said coldly, "or I will do it for you." As Datai took her, shaking, in his arms and quieted Akemi, Sekhmet looked at the seer's body on the ground, strangely bothered by her words. What if she spoke the truth? What if I am making a mistake by sparing them? He glared at them, bending and picking up his helmet. But I have given my word I will spare them, and I will not go back on it now. He placed it on his head, gesturing for the soldiers.
      "It is time," he said, ignoring Jynavy's sobs. Leaving a soldier to watch Datai and the others, he stood at the front of the husk-armors. Just as he focused, however, Sekhmet heard a rustle and spun around. The soldier that remained readied its weapon.
      He saw what startled the soldier; a woman was approaching on a black horse. Another intruder? he wondered angrily. She stopped it and looked surprised. The Dark Warlord walked up to her. "Bad timing, traveler." He looked out the corner of his eye to glance at Datai and Jynavy. Both stayed in place. Then he returned his gaze to the woman.
      Her dress was sort of odd. She wore a robe of green, blue and white. Hanging from the saddle was a white staff with a circle on top. He locked his gaze on her face with a hard look. It was obvious by those features what she was and why she came to the village. A gaijin. I had heard some of them were near this area.
      The woman just looked back at him. Oh, how he wished she turned away or did something of the sort. No. Her blue eyes just gazed at him without rejection or disgust. He tried to figure out what she was up to. What was in those eyes? Sorrow? "If you value your life, you'll leave now. I may not be granted another chance to spare your life."
      She nodded in response as she gripped together the reins of her horse. The woman joined Jynavy and her husband. "Do you need a guide?"
      The soldier lifted its weapon again, but Sekhmet raised a hand. "Take them away from here if you wish, but never return." He locked gazes with the small group. "Any of you." The woman nodded again as she got down and offered her horse to Jynavy to ride with her child. As the Dark Warlord watched, he still felt a bit puzzled at the gaijin.
      He waited until they were away, passing through the outskirts of the forest to reach the road. When they were out of sight he went again to the head of the soldiers, shaking his head in irritation, and teleported them all without a backward glance.
      They appeared in the middle of the village, and immediately Sekhmet sent two soldiers to seal the gate, and two more to guard the holes in the wall he knew were there. The few people still outside were shocked, not recognizing him in the armor. He raked his eyes quickly across the buildings, fixing on a large house. He pointed at that one, and all the rest of the soldiers sprung into action, herding people off the streets and out of their homes, dragging them into the building.
      The air was filled with the sound of screaming and sobbing as the mass of humanity was pushed into the house, some of them resisting, but not for long. The soldiers killed anyone who attacked them, taking their weapons, and soon there was no more fighting back. There were shouts of "Why us?" and "What are you here for?" and "What are you doing?", but Sekhmet stood still at the door of the house, not deigning to answer any of them.
      Soon every single member of his clan stood in the house, and Sekhmet followed them in, accompanied by soldiers. A few people were hysterical, sobbing and shouting, but for the most part they were silent. He gestured, and the door was closed, gray-armored soldiers immovably barring the way.
      Sekhmet surveyed the faces of the people, looking for a certain few. His revenge just wouldn't be the same if they had already died. But they were there, and he smiled in satisfaction.
      His grandfather, Faimbril, was still alive, although it looked as if he was on his last legs. His mother was there as well, supporting him, and he found two particular members of the clan's warriors still alive. The memories had been violently sparked as soon as he had set foot inside the walls, and he recalled the pain of their rocks against his bleeding, torn back very vividly.
      He pointed at the four of them, and soldiers obediently dragged them before him, prompting more screams and wails of dismay. "Who are you? Why are you here?" a man cried, and Sekhmet let them see his face briefly.
      "It's only been twelve years," he said. "Surprise on the faces of children I can understand, but I find it hard to believe your memories are so bad that you've forgotten me already. Greetings, mother," he said, nodding at Rielvia. "Aren't you pleased to see me again?"
      She blanched, saying nothing as the others edged away from her, suddenly reminded she was a demon's mother. "But, no! You're dead! You... you have to be dead!" Faimbril protested.
      That's probably what he told them back then, Sekhmet thought. He's trying to save face now... he may be old, but he's not stupid.  "Hardly," he laughed. "I can't die. I'm a demon, remember?"
      A woman, kneeling on the ground, wailed. "The demon has returned to eat our souls!"
      He waited for all the yelling to die down before speaking again. "There you're right. I've come to take my vengeance for what you did to me, and for what you did to her." He nodded as eyes grew wide, as looks of realization washed over their pale faces. "Yes, you remember that, don't you? At least you won't die without knowing why your lives have to end. That should be a comfort."
      He turned to Rielvia as the others pleaded for mercy, pleaded to be spared, their begging voices enjoyable in his ears. When they saw he wasn't listening to them they slowly grew quiet, held back by soldiers, watching to see what he would do next.
      He looked at his mother standing there in her threadbare nightrobe, long hair now turning gray, wrinkles etching her face. "You haven't aged well, Mother," he said. "Is your money running out? Will no one sleep with you anymore? Every man in this town knows what your body looks like by now. But they aren't desperate enough to have you with wrinkles and spots, are they?"
      She was turning red, keeping from meeting anyone's gaze. "Shall I tell them more, Mother? Shall I tell them that Ayaken was human and not my father at all? Shall I tell them how you and Viraz accused him so he'd be out of your way?" Those old enough to remember Ayaken looked shocked, and Sekhmet chuckled, enjoying himself. "No? Well then, have you anything to say for yourself now?"
      She glared up at him, tears blurring her black eyes. "I wish you'd never been born," she gritted, clenching her fists. "I wish I'd drowned you like Viraz wanted."
      He reached up and very slowly drew the snake-headed swords on his back, letting her hear the whisper of metal on metal. "So do I," he said softly, moving forward. "I was the one who killed him, you know."
      Her face grew hard. "I knew. I knew it."
      He came closer. "You are blind, Mother. I want you to know that. You are blind and now you are dead!" He raised the swords as she cowered back, thrusting both of them downward into her chest. She screamed, trying to scramble away, and he yanked the blades out, watching her fall. She convulsed, gasping, and slowly grew still.
      Someone in the crowd was praying, over and over, but the rest of them were shocked, transfixed. Sekhmet moved over to the two men, killing them as well. He saved Faimbril for last.
      The leader of the clan had been old when Sekhmet was born, and he was ancient now, in his eighties. Faimbril was terrified, shaking and wetting himself, and yet all Sekhmet could see was his smirk as he ordered the whipping, ordered it to begin again, and again and again...
      He paused, deciding. He had been taught to kill quickly, to end the suffering as quickly as possible, but here he didn't want to. I want it to be as slow, as painful, as it was for me, he thought, raising one sword. And he knew just how to do it, thanks to the armor his master had given him.
      He laughed with amusement no one else could understand and struck Faimbril with his sword, sending up a cloud of red-colored venom. It ate away at the man's unprotected skin, his shrill screams filling the air as he fell to the ground, twisting wildly.
      "It hurts, doesn't it?" Sekhmet asked, standing above him. A strange surge of power ran through him as he watched the man die, and he gripped his swords, looking up at the others. Whatever was reflected in his eyes caused them to shrink back, and suddenly he gestured the soldiers away and behind him.
      A golden color throbbed in his head as the swirl of power rose, three words burning into his mind. Without even knowing how, or why, he swung his swords together, melding them in the air, and reached for the next pair, and the next, holding them together in front of him.
      As he grasped a hilt they ran together in a glowing yellow-gold arc, and he swung it above his head like a whip. "Snake Fang Strike!" he bellowed, cracking the energy down into the crowd. There was an instant eruption of screaming as the sword-whip crashed through them, and the smell of seared flesh filled the air. And when the haze of the power had cleared from his mind, he saw that almost all of them had been killed.
      Such power... I have never felt anything like it! But... can I do that again, or was it something I can't control? Sekhmet frowned at that thought, breathing heavily, looking around at the room. The walls as well as the people were scorched with energy. But not everyone was dead.
      He pulled a torch from the wall, ordering the soldiers out. He set fire to the walls of the building as he left the room, barring the door. As soon as he was sure it was ablaze, he ran through the town, feeling no fatigue, setting everything burnable alight. Houses, stables, fields, everything catching and rising in a hot uncontrollable flame.
      When he was satisfied, he teleported himself back to the hill, sending the soldiers back to the Netherworld, not needing them anymore. The fire might catch in the forests, he thought offhandedly. It might burn forever...
      The fire stayed contained, though, and he stood, unmoving, on the hill until dawn. He simply stared at the flames until they burned themselves out, feeling no hunger or exhaustion because of the armor. When he took it off, he would feel it, but for now Sekhmet was content to stand in one place for hours and watch a valley die.
      It was almost light when the blaze subsided, smoking ash all that was left of the area. Slowly he walked down, not wasting the effort of teleporting, past the charred gateposts and ruined houses. He paused a moment, not bothering to look up, as Dayus suddenly appeared in full armor.
      He pulled off his helmet, shaking his hair free. Dayus glanced distastefully around at the mess. "Was all this really necessary?"
      "Of course it was," Sekhmet replied, moving on to the remains of the building where he had found his power. Dayus walked next to him, frowning as he looked around. They entered the area. There were a few ash-shapes identifiable as burnt bodies and nothing more. Everything else in the house had been destroyed; blistered, twisted pieces of metal the clan's only legacy.
      Sekhmet surveyed his handiwork and smiled, looking down at one of the shapes. "Dayus, I'd like you to meet my mother," he said gleefully. The Warlord of Deception glanced down automatically but said nothing, disapproval on his face. Sekhmet poked it with his toe. "Life is so fragile," he sighed as it crumbled into merely another heap of ash.
      Dayus looked pointedly at the vague figure of a mother crouched over her child, trying to protect it. "Did you really have to kill all of them?" he asked, trying to keep the disgust out of his voice. "Some of them weren't even born when you left, Sekhmet."
      "Are you trying to tell me it's wrong to kill? And here I thought I was being helpful and reducing the population." He gave a mocking sob. "Oh, Dayus, you're breaking my heart!"
      "I meant nothing of the kind. What is wrong with you?"
      He turned to gaze into the Dark Sister, feeling a bit strange. He wanted to run the ash through his fingers, toss it in the air-- Perhaps there is something wrong with me. "I did it, Dayus," he said with wonder in his voice. "I found my power! It's like nothing I could ever describe... just three words, three words, and... the energy, the power..." He trailed off, unable to say anything else.
      Dayus cleared his throat. "Well," he said, "I have come because you have not answered Master Talpa's summons. The man I have invited to join the Dynasty is about to accept now. We are to be there when he arrives."
      Sekhmet half-turned to look back at him. "Why didn't you tell me in the first place?" he said with a smirk, still affected by the rush of power. "We mustn't keep Master Talpa waiting." He teleported immediately, chuckling at the exasperated look on Dayus's face as he, and the ashes, faded from view.

      And so Matsuyama Cale joined the Dynasty and became a Warlord. He, too, seemed to adapt well to the life in Talpa's stronghold. He learned to teleport almost right away -- definitely not a mark in his favor, in Sekhmet's opinion -- but almost kept to himself, not speaking much of what had happened before he had accepted Talpa's offer of eternal life and eternal power.
      The other three were much the same way, Anubis especially. Sekhmet knew less about him than he did about Cale. Apparently the Warlord of Corruption had been a ninja, a warrior of the night. Seeing as he was the wearer of the Armor of Darkness, it only fit, further proving to Sekhmet that they had been destined for their yoroi.
      But he said nothing about the cause of the scar he had over his left eye, strangely shaped like a sword. One more mystery, but one Sekhmet didn't really care to solve. They were content to let each other have his secrets, keeping one's own counsel. Together but separate, the four Dark Warlords were independent pieces working for the same goal.
      And it seemed to Sekhmet that the goal was being achieved much too slowly. He wanted to do something, anything, except practice and sit around doing nothing. So when they were called by Talpa to the throne room, he was the first to appear. Others of his master's servants, secondary servants, he assured himself, stood in the shadows, hidden but watching. What Talpa was going to tell them was for their ears as well.
      Cale and Anubis arrived almost simultaneously, and they stood in front of the throne, waiting for Dayus to show up. He didn't show. And Talpa was getting angry. "Where is he?" Talpa boomed. "He is not in the Dynasty!"
      Anubis stepped forward. "Shall I go after him, master? It seems he has gone down to Earth."
      Talpa looked as if he was about to agree when Cale held up a red-armored hand. "Wait," he said, and a second later Sekhmet felt it too. The air shivered and Dayus appeared. He took one look at the demon lord, his eyes flaming red with anger, and dropped to a knee before the throne.
      "Forgive, me, Master, for not answering your summons," he said quickly. "But I have found my power, and was unable to return so suddenly."
      There was a slight pause, and then the red glow died down. "Ahh, Dayus, that is a different matter. Very well. But I shall not tolerate any more lateness from any of you."
      They bowed, Dayus rising to his feet and stepping back next to Sekhmet. He could see the power in the other man's eye, the almost dazed expression on his face. I must have looked like that, he said to himself. Such a feeling, like I could destroy the world without a thought. He half-smiled and returned his attention to his master.
      "You wish for something to do. I have jobs for you. Bring her!" he snapped, and immediately two soldiers pulled into the room a girl of about ten years of age. Her dark blue eyes were wide as she stared at them, but somehow they were dull and unalert.
      A strange gloating tone came into Talpa's voice. "This is Kayura," he told them. "She was taken from Earth sixteen years ago. She can command a great power, and she will use it to serve me."
      "But how can a child serve you, even if she does have power?" Cale asked skeptically.
      Talpa laughed. "She will not be a child always," he responded. "It is easier to turn a child to darkness than one who is grown. I shall let her grow as a reward for loyalty. She can be turned, and will be. In the meantime, your assignment is to seek out other children with inherent magical powers and bring them here."
      "Yes, Master," the Warlords chorused, bowing. Thay accepted the assignment gladly -- anything to break the monotony. Sekhmet had a feeling they would have agreed to mucking out stables, if Talpa had told them to.
      "How will we know where to find them?" Anubis questioned.
      "I know the locations of a few, but some are hidden. The armor will help you. You will know if the child has power." He laughed again briefly. "I have an important task to assign to one of you. I have not decided who I will award the... honor to, yet, but know the task now. This one I do not want brought back to me. This one I want exterminated." The screen behind them glowed brightly, and they all turned to look.
      "This is the one I want you to go after." The viewscreen focused in on a dirt path. It came in closer to see a woman on a black horse. Soon her face was seen. Sekhmet internally gasped, though his outside features were as stone. It was the same woman whose life he had spared before.
      Out of the corner of his eye he saw the other minions of Talpa gathered. Yes, Talpa had not chosen yet who would best suit this job. He hoped his master would not insult them by choosing one of the minor servants. "She has caused me problems in the past. I have sent minions after her to no avail."
      How could she cause problems? Well, let me just count myself very lucky that Talpa didn't see me spare her life. Still, I must see what's so important about her for myself, somehow.

      "Food! Food! Please!"
      "Go away! You'll find nothing here!"
      A small boy in dirty and ragged clothes stood at the door to a building. His limbs were small and his very small blue eyes looked at the man in the doorway. "Please! I am starving!"
      "Well, starve someplace else!"
      Someone cocked their head, overhearing the conversation. The person walked up to the scene. "Here," a woman's voice said as she gave a bag to the boy. He opened it to find some berries inside.
      The man grabbed the woman's right wrist. "What do you think you are doing, gaijin?" She pulled away her arm with more force than the man expected, and turned back her attention to the boy. "Just because you gaijins come here to teach your religion does not mean you can do whatever you want!"
      She stood up again and faced the man. "I may be a gaijin, but I know how to treat people. What you do to this boy is cruel beyond words. What if your child was starving?"
      "This is a demon! Can you not see that? Oh, but what am I saying? You are a demon too, gaijin! So go ahead!" He waved them away. "I'm sure you two will be perfect together!"
      The woman picked up and carried the boy. She faced the man with a hard look in her blue eyes. "At least I know the true meaning of the word 'honor'." With that she turned and walked away, orange-red hair swaying with the motion. She walked a distance before reaching her horse. She shortened the stirrups and put the boy in the saddle.
      "Know how to ride a horse?" The boy shook his head no as he munched on a berry. "Well then, I'll fix that." She smiled at him as she took the reins and walked with her horse. "Hold a bit of the reins and the mane and you'll be fine." The boy did as instructed with his free hand. The woman kept the pace as slow and steady as possible for him, knowing he needed the rest. "What's your name?"
      "Kyokazu."
      "Well, Kyokazu, do you have any parents?" She had already guessed the answer before he shook his head no.
      "What is your name?"
      "Mine?" She looked puzzled for a second, not expecting the boy to ask. "Unacera."
      "Unacera? What is a... gai... gai..."
      "Gaijin? It means barbarian. It's the name given to us who are not from this land."
      "You are not from here? You from another town?"
      She chuckled. "No. Farther away then that. Across the ocean. I come from some place over there."
      "Really? Can I go there?"
      "Do you want to?"
      "Uh huh."
      "Well promise me to eat, drink, be healthy and behave and we'll see, all right?" Unacera turned and smiled at him.
      "All right. I promise." Kyokazu munched on another handful of berries. "What is it like where you are from?"
      "The land is very green, and we speak another language."
      "Language?"
      "Yes. It's what you speak. Let me give you an example." Unacera began speaking in words the boy did not understand. "That is my language from where I come from."
      The boy just looked stunned. "Can I learn your language?"
      She looked back to the boy and smiled again. "We'll see." The woman led her black horse out of town.
      A man in a strange green and red armor just silently watched the whole scene that unfolded from afar.

      The finding of magic-users soon evolved into a kind of contest between the Warlords, as each of them tried to find the most magical children. Anubis was winning in that respect, having already brought back three as compared to the others' one. They were simply placed in a dungeon with some of Talpa's minor servants. There they were to be turned to Talpa's will, and the Warlords were not concerned with that part of it.
      Sekhmet, however, was not very enthusiastic about it. Each time he went to Earth with the intent of hunting down and finding a child for his master, his thoughts turned back to that woman. What was she doing? She had rescued a boy, fed him when he was starving, but why? Was the boy magical? Was she trying to keep him from the Dynasty?
      And so, he decided, when his teleporting landed him near the place she and the boy had stopped to rest, he wouldn't be disobeying orders at all. If the child had power, Sekhmet would take him. And if the gaijin woman died in the process, so much the better.
     
      The snake moved across the branches on the floor of the woods. Then it slithered up a tree. The slit eyes watched intently.
      "Here, I got some more berries. Eat all you wish."
      "Thank you." Kyokazu started eating as the woman watched. Then she sat back against a tree. "Are you having any?"
      "I'll have what's left after you finish." She clutched at her stomach and gave a little angered look at it. The woman sighed and closed her eyes.
      The snake moved down and closer to the two people. Sekhmet watched from up high. He took a deep breath. Never did this to myself before. Suddenly he felt the branch shake violently as a creature jumped on it. The Dark Warlord carefully watched it.
      At first it looked like a very large leopard. As it turned and laid down on the branch, though, the man noticed the wings folded on the sides. Sekhmet was more than uneasy, hoping his image over himself would hold. When the 'cat' didn't move after moments, he returned to the snake and its sight.
      The woman now held a harp and started playing a tune. Soon her voice accompanied it with a song. The man was reminded briefly of Cirian. Then he remembered what the seer said. Is she one of the mistakes? She spoke of five. So one of us Dark Warlords is going to make more than one. I hope it's Anubis. Sekhmet chuckled in his thoughts as he paid the song little heed. Then a lyric caught his attention. The... the song! She's singing about me!
      When she finished, Kyokazu looked at her. "That was pretty." The woman smiled at him and put her harp aside. The boy moved onto her lap and she held him.
      "We must get you better clothes. What's your favorite color, Kyokazu?"
      "Gold," he mumbled softly.
      "And why do you like gold?" After no answer came, she gazed down at the boy. "Kyokazu?" The boy was already fast asleep. She smiled for a moment, but soon it faded to a frown. A look of sadness came back to her. The woman held the boy lovingly as tears ran down her cheeks. Unacera lowered her head and sobbed softly.
      Time to go. As Sekhmet was about to call the snake away, he saw the woman pull out something. Whatever it was, it glowed as she held it in her right palm. The Dark Warlord could swear he could almost see, through the snake's eyes, a symbol glowing on her forehead. Sekhmet just dismissed it. Doesn't matter, he thought. I can't read anyway.
      As he shifted on the branch, the cat's ears perked up. Then they moved toward the back. Soon it got up and turned around to look in the man's direction. That cat's too smart for its own good. The strange winged leopard began to growl. Its green eyes locked on.
      "Dragon Wind? Dragon Wind, can you come here?" The cat's ears twitched. With a final growl it jumped off the branch. It dashed next to the woman. "Dragon Wind, go hunt some food for us tonight." The cat nodded and dashed off into the forest.
      Dragon Wind? So that's its name. He shrugged and then teleported away.
     
      Talpa once again wasn't pleased. It was a while since that last visit, and his master had sent another minion after the woman. What Talpa got in return was a severed head. The meeting had ended and Anubis teleported away along with several of the other people gathered. Sekhmet was about to do the same when he heard Dayus.
      "Clever."
      "What is?"
      "I found out that every minion so far sent after this woman has not been in Talpa's favor. Talpa's sending them out not only to find out how much skill she has, but to destroy his enemies. A unique way of control, indeed." Dayus teleported out of the room, leaving Sekhmet behind to wonder.
      He frowned at the implied insult. Was it so obvious that he had been following her, watching? He hadn't been sent, exactly, but if Dayus knew then Talpa must. He hadn't forbidden him to do it, though, but... how could he be out of Talpa's favor? He made a noise of frustration. Dayus is just trying to confuse me!
      Slowly a feeling crept up his nerves, a feeling that was becoming quite familiar. Someone's using the gates. Maybe I'd better see what's happening. He 'jumped' out of the castle, appearing near the innermost gate. It was just closing behind Cale, who was riding one of the purple-colored Dynasty horses. In his arms he held a struggling girl, one hand over her mouth.
      That explained it. The horses did not like being teleported. Only Talpa could control them in that case. If you wanted to use a horse, you had to take the trouble of going through the gates.
      "Got another one, I see," Sekhmet said, watching as Cale dismounted and a soldier appeared to take the horse.
      Cale laughed suddenly, holding the red-haired girl up by her wrists, still keeping a hand over her mouth. She twisted, trying to pull away, and that made him laugh even more. "Yes, and what's more, I found my own powers doing so! It's indescribable! I mean, I can hardly--"
      "I know," he said irritably. No wonder he was in such a good mood. Being the last Warlord to join the Dynasty, he had been sort of pressured to catch up with the others. That he had; as far as Sekhmet knew, none of them had found their powers so quickly.
      Cale didn't mind the interruption. "Her family had hidden her, but I got one of them to tell me where she was by promising him power and a place in Talpa's service. He went for it in a second -- you've never seen anyone turn so quickly! And then I felt it, and then..." He held the girl out suddenly. "Hold her for a moment," he said. "Keep her quiet. She's got quite a mouth."
      He took the girl's wrists in a hand, prepared to cover her mouth as Cale had done. She stopped struggling, however, keeping quiet, and he lifted her up to look at her. The girl appeared to be about eleven or twelve, her hair matching the color of the trickle of blood running down the side of her face. She'll be beautiful when she's grown, he decided. If Talpa lets her grow, that is. "You have a name?" he asked abruptly.
      "Taia," she almost whispered. "Let me go!" He didn't reply, and suddenly she shrieked. "Ouch!" she said, her dark brown eyes wide, trying vainly to cover her ears while her hands were in the air. "Let me go! You're too loud! You're hurting my ears!"
      He scowled at her, thrusting her back at Cale as soon as the other Warlord had changed to his subarmor. "Too bad you got a crazy one," Sekhmet commented. "She's hearing things."
      As soon as she had been transferred Cale muffled her voice. "She may hear things," he smirked, "but when this little banshee starts screaming she's able to shock people and shoot energy from weapons." He shrugged. "She'll be useful, that's for sure."
      Sekhmet shook his head. "She'd better be. I don't think any of them will turn out to be anything useful, really."
      "Is that why you've only brought back one?"
      "No," he replied curtly, glowering. "I've found something better to hunt."
      "Oh, really?" Cale said, shifting the girl in preparation to teleport. She had given up struggling for the moment, staring at him with horror and fascination on her face.
      "Really."
      Cale looked at him for a moment as if judging his intentions, his eyes reflecting the glow of his new-found power. "Then perhaps I should wish you a good hunt." He left suddenly, and Sekhmet blinked, standing there just a moment before returning to the stronghold himself.

      "Favor or no, I will finish this," Sekhmet grumbled as he armored himself up. He stood in his chambers where he had been mediating for quite some time. "I'll find out the truth about that boy and gaijin now!"
      With that he teleported out of the chambers and to a town near where he last saw the woman, not caring what anyone thought or said or did. He grabbed the first person he saw. "You! Have you seen a gaijin woman with a little boy anytime around here?"
      The man nodded and barely stuttered a reply. His breath reeked of sake. His mind was apparently working as quickly as it could, but it wasn't quick enough. Sekhmet gave him a shake, which started him talking. "A-a few months b-back. They were said to be heading, ah, north!"
      "Thank you so very much," he said sarcastically. The Dark Warlord dropped the man and teleported away. Sekhmet reappeared several miles north, jumping ahead a few times. He tracked down the route the gaijin had taken until he reached the outskirts of a town.
      A boy was looking around, wearing a mostly gold-colored kimono. Even though he had grown, the man still recognized him. "She left you. How foolish." His armor made a metallic noise on the ground, crushing grass blades beneath it. The boy gasped at both sounds and spun to look at the source. Sekhmet, too, shared a gasp.
      The young boy had blue and purple hair that went to his shoulders, straight and a bit messy. His face was still smooth and innocent. What held the Dark Warlord's interest, though, were his eyes. The boy's eyes were just like his, small and dark pupils. Another one! I can't believe it! How... how many of us are there? Why didn't I notice this before? Am I blind? Sekhmet took off his helm.
      "You..." the boy stuttered, "you look like me!"
      "Do you know what you are, boy?"
      He nodded. "Unacera told me. I'm half snake-god. That's why people don't like me. Well, except her."
      Sekhmet kneeled down on one leg. "What is your name?" He spoke in a more natural level and tone. Another face, faint but familiar nonetheless, swam into view of his mind's eye. It was a girl, like him, like us... she died, I think... but I can't remember any more...
      "Kyokazu." The boy looked quizzically at the man. "What's yours?"
      "Sekhmet." He held out a hand. "Don't worry. I won't hurt you." The boy shied away, frightened still.
      "So you come for innocent boys too?" a woman's voice said. Sekhmet spun, taking out the two katanas from his back in a quick fluid motion.
      "Gaijin!"
      "I knew you were following me before," she continued. "Why? For him? Or for me?"
      "Perhaps both," Sekhmet leered as he readied himself. The woman took out the nodachi she was holding and did the same. The two swords clanged together. The Dark Warlord tried to advance but they both stood ground. Fine! He released some venom though his swords and delighted in the fact that it made her stumble backwards. His armor began to share in that amount of venom. It hissed and the grass blades around it dissolved quickly into nothing.
      "No!" Kyokazu ran between them. "Stop this!" He looked the man in the eyes. "Please don't kill her!"
      "And why not?"
      "Unacera's not our enemy! She helps our kind!"
      Sekhmet grunted in disbelief. "Only for her advantage, I bet."
      "No!" Kyokazu clung to the woman's left arm.
      "Stand aside!"
      "I won't!"
      Sekhmet briefly put down a sword and grabbed the boy roughly. As soon as he did, the boy screamed loudly. The Dark Warlord's eyes opened wide in surprise. He looked to see his armor hissing again and around Kyokazu's hand. The boy screamed more and more, tears running down his cheeks. The man let go, stunned.
      Kyokazu still screamed in pain and ran to Unacera's side. The woman knelt and briefly looked at the severely acid-burned hand. Then her gaze locked back onto Sekhmet and she reached under her shirt. She took out something in her left hand and touched it to Kyokazu's hand. The boy looked on, stunned, as the wound healed itself in short moments.
      "Get out of here, Kyokazu!" Unacera said sternly as she got back up and held two hands on her nodachi again.
      "But..."
      "Go!" she yelled. "Find Dragon Wind!" The boy nodded and rushed off.
      "Wait!" the man cried to the boy as he stepped forward. Sekhmet was about to follow Kyokazu when a nodachi hit his katana.
      "Leave him alone!"
      Sekhmet turned to her as he carefully and slowly reached to pick up the other katana he had placed down. His face went from a look of concern and confusion over the boy to sheer hatred and disgust. "You just made a very foolish move, gaijin."
      He jumped back and focused on his powers, all that he knew. Those three words burned in his mind again. This time though, Sekhmet cast an illusion on himself and used his mental abilities to control his other katanas. "Snake Fang Strike!" Six arms appeared and seemingly each held a deadly Snake Fang Sword. He charged and quickly struck out again and again, feinting and making advances.
      The woman backed up as she swung to avoid near blows. The Dark Warlord grinned even more widely as he watched. Finally one of them nicked her shoulder and she screamed. She tried to recover, and did for a while.
      Soon, though, she began to tire as strange red colored smoke poured a little from the cut. She kneeled and held a hand over the wound as a tear fell down her left cheek.
      Sekhmet placed a katana next to her neck. "Looks like you lose, gaijin." He laughed evilly. "After a few more cuts I think I'll be able to drag your unconscious body before my Master Talpa. Then I'll awaken you so you can kneel before him, right before I kill you."
      He leered down as he moved a bit closer to her face. "Trust me when I say that you'll not die peacefully." He slashed with his other katana and she bit back screams as he caused more acid-smoking wounds. "Finally, you'll be dead, Kyokazu will join the Dynasty as I have, and this world will bow before all of my Master's army!"
      Her face twisted in anger and another emotion as she tried futilely to push away and gain some ground. Sekhmet watched the expression on her face, identifying it.  It was pity. The thought that she should pity him enraged him enough that he swung, hitting her head with the snake-shaped pommel of his sword. The accusing, pitying eyes closed and she went limp.
      He sheathed his sword in satisfaction.  He had done it. He had captured the gaijin when the others could not. Let's see what Dayus says about favor now, he thought as he took her unconsious form into his arms and teleported back to the Dynasty. 

      Sekhmet pulled Unacera up by her long orange-red hair. The woman winced and awoke from her unconscious state. "...where?"
      "At death's door," Sekhmet answered with a laugh. He saw her gaze turn toward him. "Oh, don't worry, I told you I'd make sure you would suffer, and so you shall."
      He pulled on her hair again as he dragged her to a part of the dungeon. Then he pushed her against the far wall and touched a hand to the stone. The acid melted it and he formed it around her wrist. The Warlord then dealt with the other wrist. "I personally would love to see this wall turn to liquid and swallow you up, with you struggling futilely for breath."
      "Then why don't you?" the gaijin answered sternly.
      "So you aren't broken yet? You are more foolish than I ever imagined." He leaned his face into hers. "I await to see if Talpa has any specific torture in mind for you. I personally hope I get the honor to deal with you as I see fit." Sekhmet grinned evilly as the woman turned her face away. "He really hates you, you know. But then, so do I." The Dark Warlord laughed again.
      Unacera faced him again, her strangely-colored blue eyes gazing into him. "You truly are blind. Perhaps only the innocent like Kyokazu can see through Talpa's lies."
      Sekhmet laughed in return. "Innocent? Ha! We have captured many an 'innocent', and they shall all serve my Master."
      "And where is your place in your master's plans? Do you think he gives a damn about you?"
      "Talpa gives me power to destroy the world, and I shall gladly do so!"
      "So in the end you'll rule nothing. How quaint."
      The Dark Warlord angrily backhanded her face. He placed his hand around her throat and began to squeeze. "I rule over the barrier between life and death, and I can easily give you to death right now." Sekhmet found himself taking quite a bit of pleasure in torturing the gaijin and watching her struggle. Finally he let go, smiling at the red marks around her neck. "Your tongue will be silenced soon enough."
      "Nay. I shall live yet a long time, I guarantee. Truth can never be silenced."
      "And what is this 'truth', pray tell? Entertain me, gaijin. I used to listen to the 'truth' of those from your world, and they were all falsehoods."
      "The truth is that all you Warlords mean nothing to your master. All he cares about is to rule both worlds, and he will use you and your armors to do so! He only took you in so the power of the armor you wear would increase. It indeed is your destiny to have your armor, but this," she looked around, "is not your destiny."
      "I choose my own destiny, and I side with the winning side of power and immortality." Sekhmet stepped back. "I've had enough entertainment from you for now. I hope you enjoy your very brief stay in my master's domain."
      With that Sekhmet grinned once more at the gaijin and turned, teleporting away. Finally, I have her, and soon I shall have that boy she was protecting. Nothing can stop us.
      Sekhmet picked up the nodachi of the gaijin that he had left in the hallway. He examined it for a bit. A woman who can wield such a weapon would be useful to Talpa. Too bad she chooses not to join us. Such a loss.
      When he came back from his thoughts, he noticed he had walked a distance. Cale's room was not far off. Sekhmet pondered for a moment, and then headed there. Upon reaching it, he knocked on the door.
      "Yes?"
      Sekhmet opened the door to find Cale meditating. "I wanted to thank you for wishing me a good hunt. Indeed, the hunt went well." He held up the nodachi.
      Cale looked up. "Isn't that...?"
      "The sword of the gaijin." He grinned evilly.
      The other Dark Warlord stood and walked over. "I see we were hunting something better." Sekhmet saw the other man's eyes examine the nodachi. "May I see that for a moment?"
      He shrugged and handed it over. Nodachis weren't his thing. They were too big and heavy. Still, it would make a great prize, nonetheless. He watched as Cale moved the nodachi around in his hand. Then the other man gazed for a moment at the flat of the blade. Suddenly his face looked surprised.
      "What is it?"
      Cale shook it off. "I sense that this is indeed a powerful weapon."
      "Too bad she didn't know how to use it."
      He handed it back. "So the gaijin is dead, then?"
      "Will be, soon enough."
      "You brought her here?!" he asked incredulously.
      "So she could suffer by Master Talpa's power."
      "But Master Talpa said he didn't want her brought back."
      Sekhmet waved a hand. "She is imprisoned, I saw to it myself. I want her to kneel before our master before she's killed." He looked at Cale briefly before he turned around to leave. Questioning my judgment. Definitely not a mark in his favor. He then teleported to the throne room.
      Sekhmet bowed, holding the nodachi before him. "Master Talpa."
      The apparition of the helmet appeared. "Ah, Sekhmet. I noticed your efforts in capturing the gaijin."
      "Yes, Master. I await your orders. How do you wish to dispense of her?"
      Talpa laughed. "I will have her bow and slain before me." Sekhmet grinned inwardly. This was going just as he had planned. However, his joy changed at the next part. "I will have Cale run her through with her own nodachi."
      Sekhmet looked up quickly. "But Master Talpa, I was the one who captured her. I'm the one who should have the honor of killing her."
      "Don't question my orders, Sekhmet. You shall see the value in my judgment. You wish her to suffer, do you not? This is what will make her soul suffer."
      Sekhmet bowed again. "As you wish, Master Talpa." The Warlord teleported back to near Cale's room. He took the extra distance to think about what his Master said. It doesn't make sense. I should be the one to kill her. This time he threw open Cale's room door.
      Cale looked up. "What's wrong?"
      Sekhmet threw the sword to the ground before Cale. "Master Talpa wants you to slay the gaijin."
      The man looked surprised. "Me?"
      "Yes, with her own sword." He paused and swallowed the distaste of the moment. "I will hold her down to bow before our master. We must hurry, Master Talpa awaits."
      Cale nodded as he picked up the nodachi. "I'll come with you to the dungeon."
      Sekhmet bit his lip in disgust. Without saying a word he teleported with Cale to the dungeon. Cale quickly had summoned his subarmor. Sekhmet walked into the dungeon, hoping some gloating would make him feel better. However, they looked and saw it was empty.  
      "What?" Sekhmet looked around to see the guards that were not too far away all lying on the ground. "What the...?"
      "How'd she escape?" Cale asked, examining the place where the woman had been held.
      Something caught Sekhmet's eye and he walked over to one of the guards. The Warlord bent down and picked something up. He felt Cale walk over and look over his shoulder. "What is it?"
      "It seems one of my father's 'kin' helped the gaijin to escape." He used the term bitterly as he felt the bit of scaly flesh that had been cut off in his armored fingers.
      "Huh? What..."
      Sekhmet spun and ran out the room, bumping into the other Dark Warlord in the process. "Come on! She can't be far!"

      Clever thing, isn't she. Sekhmet watched from the shadows at a Dynasty soldier leaving the area. Perhaps I underestimated this girl. He looked ahead to where he knew Dayus was. A feeling crept up his neck as he knew that he was definitely not in Talpa's favor now. He had to capture the gaijin, or...
      Sekhmet brought his attention back as he saw the gaijin, disguised as a soldier, nearing the area Dayus should be.
      "Web of Deception!"
      There's my cue, Sekhmet chuckled inwardly. He teleported, with swords drawn, before the gaijin, whose disguise had shattered in the attack. "Give up, gaijin! You're surrounded and without arms."
      She spun to look at him, surprised. "You're all fools!" the woman yelled as she took a defensive stance. Anubis spun his weapon and threw the clawed part at her. She jumped out of the way and ducked below a blow from one of Dayus's scythes.
      Sekhmet went to cut her from below, but she laid down and rolled out of the way. Then she jumped back up into her defensive position.
      Another stranger ran up, this time a minor follower of Talpa's. He drew his weapon and literally jumped into the battle, yelling "Die!"
      The woman nearly dodged again, but her foot slipped and took her off balance. As she went to get up, she turned and screamed. Sekhmet grinned as Cale appeared behind her, holding her own nodachi. He swung down for a blow, but the sword stopped right before it reached its mark.
      "What the?!" Cale stepped back and drew his own nodachi from his armor as hers floated there in place. He swung again, this time not only did his nodachi stop in mid-swing, but his armor chimed loudly. Cale grunted.
      Sekhmet looked at the scene, stunned. Cale seemed to be frozen in place, and the gaijin looked at him the whole time. It's a trick! But how? Then he saw a white staff, the one he remembered from their first meeting, appear in her hand. She turned back to face him and the other Dark Warlords. The woman then yelled something in a strange tongue and Sekhmet felt something go through him.
      He stumbled, putting hand over eyes and on his forehead. The cursed thing knows magic! Aaahh! The Warlord felt something burning on his forehead as he could barely hear the gaijin chanting something.
      Sekhmet looked up at the woman as she stood. She looked to the minor servant, who was unaffected by the spell, and stood her ground. "It's up to you now to defeat me, or Talpa will have you killed." She had already called away her staff and now took hold of her nodachi. "Perhaps I'll kill you first, though."
      Sekhmet looked around to see the other Dark Warlords as much affected by the spell and frozen in place as he was. He heard the clang of battle between the minor minion and the gaijin. He gazed back to the ensuing battle.
      The minion had already had one of his two weapons shattered in pieces. He dodged her next blow and tried to sweep her. The woman jumped into the air, somersaulted, and landed behind him.
      "Say sayonara," she said in a low angry tone as she swung. The minion held up its sword in defense, but her nodachi shattered it as she took his head. Smoke poured out of the armor.
      The gaijin stood and looked over the Warlords and at Cale for a very long moment. She bowed and simply said, "Gomen nasaii," and then teleported away.
      Sekhmet felt his body under his control again, but was exhausted. He collapsed to the ground, and heard the other Warlords do the same. Gomen nasaii? She's sorry? Sorry for what? Urg...

     When Sekhmet awoke, he found himself in his room. He shook his head. "What happened?" He tried to remember, and all he could remember of the ordeal was that the gaijin escaped somehow and she defeated someone in her escape. There was a very fuzzy memory. Didn't she have a staff? I remember some chant, or at least I think she chanted. Sekhmet grabbed his head. Why can't I remember? But no answers were forthcoming.

      It was several years later when Sekhmet received the order to return to the mortal world and destroy a village whose inhabitants had offended Talpa in some way. Or perhaps it was to show the humans that the demon lord was still there, watching them. Either way, he was happy to oblige.
      As Sekhmet, backed by several soldiers, rode into the main square of the village to survey what was being done, enjoying the heat of the flames and the screams of the people as he had before in his own village, he noticed a warrior who had not been killed yet. This is interesting, he thought, reining in the pale violet horse. The man, whose golden armor was slightly darkened with the smoke, tore through one soldier and then another before his eyes alighted on the armored form in front of him.
      "Such a valiant warrior," Sekhmet said, dismounting and drawing two of his swords, "protecting his village. One fit to deal with myself."
      The man hacked his way through another soldier to get to the Warlord. "This is not my village, but I will help them fight the Dynasty... I will help anyone fight the Dynasty." Then the man blinked and shook his head as if to clear his vision. "It-- it's you!"
      He regarded the man skeptically. "So, you know me. But I don't seem to have heard of you, warrior. What makes you think you can even begin to fight the Dynasty?"
      "So, you have forgotten me."
      "It seems so," he replied nonchalantly. "But I do kill so many people, it's hard to keep track of who's related to who. Was it your parents I sent to new lives, or perhaps your brother, or sister? Do you now seek revenge?"
      "I seek only the downfall of Talpa!" the man cried, lunging forward. Sekhmet met his blow, parrying and striking back. He let venom flow into the blades and jumped forward, swinging them down. There was a flash of gold as the man's own magic repelled the poison. It seemed to come from the curved jewel that hung from his neck. The Warlord was shocked, but only for a moment. His magic must come from that jewel... I wasn't expecting that.
      The two fought as if mirrors of each other, attacking and defending and gaining no ground on the other. And then, with a sudden movement, Sekhmet struck the man's chin with the pommel of his sword. His helmet protected his jawbone from most of the blow, but the force of it sent the helm flying off.
      The man stumbled back a few steps, blue and purple hair swinging free, and then looked up at his surprised attacker. Kyokazu's irisless black eyes regarded his as Sekhmet did the same.
      "Oh... you are that boy, the one with the gaijin." He looked at the young man, resplendent in his armor, holding his sword with familiarity, and tried to remember the skinny boy who had escaped because of the red-haired witch.
      "My name is Kyokazu, and I am a Guardian of the Ancient. And I am going to stop you."
      So he is in league with the monk, Talpa's enemy. I can sense the power in him... "Regretfully, it is too late for you to join the Dynasty now, so I am afraid I'll have to kill you. It's a pity. I might have enjoyed fighting with another of my kind by my side."
      Kyokazu said nothing but merely attacked again. The two fought, and Sekhmet could not help but admire the man's skill. He had to actually consider what he was going to do next, instead of fighting without thought as he had so many times before against the 'champions' of the mortals. It was as if Kyokazu, his armor, his weapon and his jewel were as one.
      The swords clanged together again and again, and it slowly became apparent to him that, although he was not going to lose this battle, he was not going to win it anytime soon, either. So he jumped back, using the armor's power to propel him further away than Kyokazu could quickly reach.
      "It's been a pleasure... playing with you," Sekhmet commented, "but it appears that this village has been completely destroyed and I am no longer needed here. Feel free to pick up the pieces, and tell your monk that he will never defeat the Dynasty, no matter who he trains to fight us."
      The man stood still, holding his sword up, the blade never wavering. "And you tell your master that the Ancient has a few surprises for you. Although I won't be there to see it, you can be sure I'll be cheering your downfall."
      Sekhmet smiled grimly and bowed mockingly. "You can deliver your own messages when Talpa is grinding you under his heel." And with that he teleported, leaving Kyokazu to the ruins.

      A high-pitched wailing scream rent the air, audible not only outside the throne room but also down the corridors surrounding it. He waited patiently in front of the throne where their master always spoke to them, one hand clenched in a fist and held over his heart in a salute. The girl at his feet screamed again, clutching her head, the golden cuffs on her wrists pulsing.
      Sekhmet didn't look at her, keeping his eyes on the apparitional mask. The girl Cale had brought back from the mortal world, Taia, had so much promise, so much power waiting to be used. But something had gone wrong. Talpa couldn't control her mind, couldn't turn her to his will. He couldn't even keep her a child. Taia had finally stopped aging, growing while the other children remained the same. After fifty years, she now appeared to be seventeen.
      The glow of the cuffs died down, and she went limp, panting heavily. Sekhmet did nothing, waiting for his master's acknowledgment. He was only here because he had discovered the problem, because it was he who had brought to Talpa's attention the fact that not everything was going as planned.
      It was because he had gone out of boredom to visit the children's dungeon, to see what was happening there. The children there were generally content, ready and willing to serve Talpa. They were receiving training, practicing with weapons to help fight for their new master.
      He had seen among them the girl, parrying with a spear. She was taller than the others, not a child as he had least seen her. As he stood silently watching, she suddenly wailed a note, blasting her trainer, a soldier, with energy from the spear, and bolted for the doorway. And when she'd gotten there she'd stopped still, although he hadn't lifted a finger against her.
      He had wondered if she would try to use her powers against him, but she did not. Taia only tried to cover her ears again, and he was reminded of when he had first seen her, thinking she was crazy. He also remembered that he thought she would be beautiful when she was grown.
      And she was. He felt a strange attraction to her, despite or perhaps because of the fact that she so obviously hated him. But she was grown, and that was what Talpa was trying to keep from happening. And so he had to report it, and so his master had found another way to control her -- through the cuffs.
      "You will not disobey me again," Talpa said to her sternly, watching as she lay sobbing on the floor. "No matter how long it takes, you will learn that I am your master and you exist only to serve me." The demon lord turned his attention to the Warlord. "Sekhmet, take her back to the dungeons."
      "Yes, Master." He bent and picked Taia up, teleporting them to the doorless cubicle off the main dungeon where she slept. She was half-unconscious, awake but not functioning. He laid her on the mat and crouched down next to her for a moment. Her hair lay in sweaty tendrils across her face, and slowly he reached out and brushed them away.
      Perhaps it was the touch of his subarmor that did it, but she seemed to wake up slightly, curling up and groaning. "No... why?" she said hoarsely. "Why does he hurt me? Why can't he let me go?"
      "If you only obeyed it wouldn't hurt as much," he told her. "You're bringing it on yourself, Taia." It was not comfort, it was truth. He had not stayed to comfort her, he had stayed to try and prevent more of what she was doing.
      She closed her eyes, turning away from him. "Can't... must fight... I can't obey his evil..." Taia stiffened slightly as the words left her mouth, and she cried out again, low and long. "No... gods, no, he's in my head..."
      Sekhmet shook his head and stood up. There was nothing he could do. Unless she was able to accept as the others had, it would be a long eternity of pain for her. Some people never did learn...

      It was the middle of what passed for night in the Netherworld, the Warlords still awake nonetheless. They could feel it all throughout the castle, the building sensation of Talpa's growing anger, and it prevented them from getting any rest.
      What is he so angry about? Sekhmet wondered, pacing, his movements full of pent-up energy. Seventy-six Earth years had passed since the gaijin woman had disappeared, and nothing important had happened in that time. They still went down to conquer people, still looking for magical children, although they hadn't found any for years. Talpa had announced that he was nearly ready to invade the mortal world. But still, nothing had happened.
      He had just made up his mind to try and get some rest when he was yanked out of the room in a blinding, painful flash of red light. He appeared in the Dynasty throne room, just barely aware that the other Warlords were there as well. But the painful crackle of light drove away his senses, sent him falling to his knees. Talpa was punishing him -- punishing them, he realized, as he heard the astonished, pained cries of the other three -- but why?
      "Master!" Anubis's strangled voice rang out. "What have we done?"
      "What have you done? You have done nothing! And because of you, because of that monk, we may face a threat to my rule!" The pain let up and the Warlords struggled to stand and salute, changing into their subarmor.
      "My Emperor, please tell us what is going on!" Dayus asked, not moving even to wipe off the bead of sweat that was on his forehead.
      The demon lord's eyes flashed like red suns, and the viewscreen lit up behind them. Shown on the screen were five teenagers, four boys and a girl, talking with each other near the top of a hill. One boy seemed to be telling the others something that they were surprised about, and then he held out a hand to show them a dark blue orb.
      The curly-haired boy jumped into the air above the other four, his kimono shredding and dissolving to reveal blue and white body armor. Each of the others nodded and looked at each other, and then copied his actions. Soon they, too, were dressed in bicolored subarmor, colored green, light blue, orange and red.
      Sekhmet narrowed his eyes. "That's armor like ours!" he spat suddenly, not knowing exactly how he knew. It certainly didn't look like theirs, but Talpa's eyes flashed in assent.
      "Yes," he boomed angrily. "It was given to them by an ancient monk, the same monk who thwarted my attempt to take this world nearly six hundred years ago! He stole my armor and separated it. But I will gain it back, you will see."
      Talpa laughed suddenly. "I have forced him to play his hand too soon. These children he calls the 'Ronin Warriors' are young and inexperienced. It is your task, my Dark Warlords, to defeat them and bring their armors to me! You must defeat them before they find their powers, or the task will be more difficult."
      The Warlords were itching to ask questions, but they respectfully kept silent until their master was finished. "Anubis!" Talpa snapped. "Go to Earth and test their abilities. Let them know we are watching them... that we will destroy them."
      The red-haired man's eyes lit up, and he bowed. "Yes, Master," he said with a grin at the other three before teleporting.
      Cale frowned and seemed about to say something. However, Talpa noticed and cut him off. "Do not worry, Cale. You all will get your chance at them. Prepare yourselves!"
      They nodded and bowed, teleporting away. Sekhmet smiled to himself. Finally there was something to do, even if Anubis did get to go down first. Too bad their opponents were so weak. Oh well... it should make them more fun to play with. He called his armor and drew out one of the swords. Best to make sure they were sharp before the time came.

      It was his turn to go and terrorize the Ronins, and Sekhmet was ready. Anubis and Cale, who had already been sent, had reported that they were incredibly weak and knew next to nothing about fighting in their armor. But now they knew about the Dynasty and would be a bit more cautious. No matter. He would show these upstarts what real power was like!
      He arrived near the small farmer's house they were staying in. The five were outside the run-down house, wearing their subarmor, apparently discussing their options. The boy who had become their leader, the one who wore the dark blue, stood in front of them. Sekhmet used an illusion, watching them unseen.
      "We must be on the lookout," he was saying. "Those... things that attacked us earlier said that there would be others on their way."
      "But Tari," the boy in red said, flipping back strands of light brown hair, "how are we going to be able to face them without learning more about these armors?"
      The one in light blue nodded. "He's right. Those two... Dark Warlords, they called themselves... they have strange powers. We don't. Our armors may be stronger than usual armor, and different, mystical, but we can't really use them yet."
      Tari nodded, turning to the two who hadn't spoken yet: the girl wearing the green subarmor and the tall boy in orange. Those two were standing hand-in-hand in the doorway of the house. "Meina? Jiro? What do you think?"
      The girl looked down, pensive. "I think... perhaps if we learn more about our armors new things will be revealed to us. I don't know how we can do that, though."
      Jiro nodded, squeezing her hand. "I think that we have to fight this Dynasty. I think that's our purpose. We have to fight for our families and for this world."
      Sekhmet allowed himself to fade into view. "Such a touching speech," he said, smirking as they all spun around and jumped to their feet. "It's really too bad we have to defeat you. You'd bring up the morale of any common soldier."
      "Another one!" Meina gasped.
      He chuckled at them. "I am Sekhmet, Warlord of Venom. Perhaps you've heard of my master, Talpa? Your deaths are near, little warriors."
      Tari glanced around at the others and then nodded. "Yeah? Prepare to be defeated!"
      Sekhmet laughed. "Oh, please. Do give it your best try. I'll be waiting." He drew his swords and merely stood where he was, watching with some interest as the five teenagers hastily prepared to armor up.
      "Armor of Strata! Tao Inochi!" Tari called, dark blue light cracking from his armored hands.
      The boy with very long blue-black hair stepped forward next to him. "Armor of Torrent! Tao Shin!" Staron shouted.
      Meina was next. "Armor of Halo! Tao Chi!"
      "Armor of Hardrock! Tao Gi!" Jiro yelled, orange light surrounding him.
      The last one joined the other warriors. Kamien raised his hands. "Armor of Wildfire! Tao Jin!"
      And then, after the apparitions of cherry blossom petals and bolts of silk had appeared, the five Ronins stood before him encased in brightly-colored armor, gripping their weapons. Sekhmet resisted the urge to applaud.
      "Very good," was all he said. "Now let's see how well you fight, children."
      "Right," Jiro replied, charging forward and striking with his staff. Sekhmet caught it on the blade of one of his swords and shoved him back. The others attacked him and were easily driven back.
      They had been taught a little, he noticed, but they were still obviously in the middle of their training. For instance, you never let your guard up like that, he thought to himself, striking Torrent as he lifted his trident for a hit. The armor protected Staron from the full force of the venom in the sword, but it obviously stung his eyes and he fell back, the others closing ranks in front of him protectively.
      And they work together. Strange, seeing as they just met... well, it's not going to save them. "You are foolish and weak," he declared. "I should just kill you now and save the trouble." He began preparing for his attack, focusing the energy. "Have a taste of my power! Snake Fang Strike!"
      The glowing whip crashed into them, and when it had gone he noticed that it had particularly affected the one in the Torrent armor. He had fallen to the ground, trying desperately to pick himself up with Wildfire's help.
      Saving this information for later, Sekhmet raised another sword, about to lunge. And then a strange image caught his eye, and he paused, turning slightly, making sure to watch out for the Ronins. A man with long straight white hair stood dressed in monks' clothing near the house. The staff he carried was glowing dimly, the gold pulse seeming to grow more intense.
      "Huh? You must be that monk!" he said aloud, and the Ronins turned to look at what he was staring at.
      Kamien, who was supporting his injured comrade, frowned. "Who's he?" the young warrior questioned. The monk didn't answer, simply raising the staff. It grew blindingly bright, its golden glow painful to Sekhmet's eyes. He held up an arm, biting back a curse. The light didn't seem to hurt the Ronins at all, even seeming to heal Torrent somewhat.
      >>Sekhmet!<< Talpa spoke suddenly into his mind. >>The Ancient is interfering! You must return!<< He felt Talpa's energy around him, pulling him back to the Dynasty.
      "You haven't seen the last of me!" he called to the Ronins as he disappeared. "Count on that!" Sekhmet faded from view and reappeared in the throne room in front of his master. "Master Talpa!" he said when he had solidified. "What was the monk doing there?"
      The eyeholes in the mask glowed with anger. "He appears to be protecting them. This cannot go on much longer. I will have the armors back, and I will have this world! Dayus shall attempt to ensnare them next. I wish to see just how far the monk's protection goes."
      "And then?" Sekhmet asked.
      "And then, protection or no, you four will go together and destroy them. It ends here."

      And it was to end that day. Dayus had gone and returned only to report that the Ronins were coming close to figuring something out, perhaps finding their powers. Talpa couldn't risk that, couldn't let them unlock the secrets of the armors that had been taken from him. All four Warlords were sent to Earth, this time with orders to kill, and to return the armors to their master.
      The field where they were to meet the Ronins was empty of all life. No animals or birds dared to come close once they had sensed the aura of the Netherworld around the four armored men who had appeared there. They stood near one of the few trees in the area, the grass green and tall around them, camouflaging them somewhat.
      "They will be in this area soon," Dayus told them, looking around.
      "Right," Anubis said, shifting the weight of his kusari-gama in his hands. "We must all work together on this. We can leave no survivors." It seemed to Sekhmet that he was directing this statement at him, and scowled, but kept silent. He knew better than to cause trouble at a time such as this.
      Cale nodded. "They are not prepared for us, although they were wearing their armor when we saw their images on the screen. We mustn't lose the advantage by letting them know we are here." He faded from view, and the others did the same, waiting. Eventually the five teenagers tramped into the area, generally talking and complaining about the sudden darkness of the sky. They stopped short as the Dark Warlords appeared before them, coming close to gaping in shock.
      "Prepare to die, Ronin children!" Anubis snapped.
      Sekhmet pulled the swords from his back and crossed them in front of him as the others readied their weapons. The excitement of battle rushed through him. "It's a pity this will be so easy," he commented.
      The Ronins began to recover. "That's what you think!" Tari shouted, raising his golden bow and loading an arrow. He fired swiftly at Cale, who was ready for it and raised his nodachi, batting it to the side. Dayus reached for his naginatas, casting them forward and sending up strands of sticky webbing, scattering the Ronins. The other Warlords went after them as he pulled the weapon back.
      Sekhmet found himself battling Meina of Halo. She carried a nodachi, holding it with familiarity. But she appeared unsure of herself still, swinging forward. He blocked it with two of his blades. It's not even worth it to taunt her, he thought, slamming a blade toward her helmet. She clumsily moved to block, but the force of the blow sent her reeling.
      He experienced a brief moment of regret that the fight wasn't longer before moving in for the kill. Meina's neck area was unprotected, and she wasn't skilled enough to defend it with her movements. Sekhmet shifted the position of his hand around one of the hilts and raised it up. He watched her eyes as he drove it down, seeing realization and panic and pain, and then peace as she tried to scream and failed, the long sword falling from useless green-armored fingers.
      Meina collapsed forward onto her face, blood soon pooling under her head. He looked down at her a moment, somehow not feeling incredibly victorious. She could have been a great opponent if she had been trained. He shook his head. Enough of this foolishness. There are four left for us to kill.
      The sound of Halo falling was loud enough to draw the attention of the others nearby, engrossed in their own battles. Jiro looked over, and the face under the crescent-horned helmet grew furious. "Meina! No! You'll pay for this!" Swinging his staff above him, he lunged, catching Sekhmet off-guard.
      "I say it's time we finish this farce!" Cale shouted from nearby. "Black Lightning Slash!" He swung his sword to the side, sending dark bolts of electricity directly at Jiro.
      The Ronin of Justice was stopped in his tracks, tripping and falling to his knees. "No..." he gasped, trying to suck in air. He slumped over, going limp, and fell at Sekhmet's feet, near the body of his beloved.
      Sekhmet blinked at Cale. "Nice timing there."
      "Thanks." He spun back around and moved forward to face the others, red cape whipping around behind him. Sekhmet stayed back to watch, ready to come if he was needed.
      Anubis violently struck back Staron's trident. "Yes, it's time this ended! Quake With Fear!" He threw forward the end of his weapon, chains springing up around the three remaining Ronins.
      The chains caught both Torrent and Strata, Kamien managing to roll out of the way. The two young warriors were yanked into the air, the trident falling to the ground as Staron raised both his arms to pull at the chains, which were twisted around his neck. Tari had been luckier, the metal only catching him about the chest.
      Sekhmet glanced over to where Wildfire, his katanas raised, was in the midst of attacking Dayus, and decided he didn't need any help before looking back to Anubis. Strata had noticed his companion's problem, but wasn't able to do anything. "Staron!" he cried, trying to pull free. Torrent was slowly choking, his own weight helping to hang him. Anubis laughed as he went limp, dangling in the air, his neck broken.
      A look of sheer rage on his face, Tari raised his bow and fired off another arrow, trying to get Anubis to drop the chains. The Warlord of Cruelty merely stood there as the arrow went whizzing past, misfired. Tari's shoulders slumped, and he seemed broken, defeated.
      Dayus suddenly kicked Kamien away and, in a few leaps, had jumped backwards to the tree. Swinging his morningstar around a limb, he hung upside down, ready to call his power. Sekhmet had an idea and sheathed his swords, turning and catching Dayus's eye. The Warlord of Deception nodded slightly, understanding.
      Sekhmet ran back, catching hold of Dayus's arms. He could appreciate the man's strength as he swung him up onto the limb above. He steadied himself, holding a sword set, and noted that both Cale and Anubis were getting out of the way. Good.
      "Ready?" Dayus called up.
      "Yes," he replied, drawing out the other sword and swinging them together, calling on his power. Below him, Dayus did the same. The words rang out almost simultaneously.
      "Web of Deception!"
      "Snake Fang Strike!"
      The gold and purple energies ran together, twisting and sparking around each other. It rushed through the field, crashing into the Ronins with combined force. The last two were hit, and when the power had died away, Tari's form swung from the chains, his hand still clenched around the bow, and Kamien was sprawled out over the ground.
      Dayus leaped back to the ground, Sekhmet jumping down to join him and the other two. "Glad it worked," Anubis said curtly, yanking back on his weapon and causing the chains to dissipate, two armored bodies hitting the grass.
      Dayus shrugged. "Didn't think our powers could combine like that," he remarked, his voice echoing metallically from behind his helmet. "I was wrong."
      "We should make sure of them," Sekhmet said, crouching down and wiping his katanas off on the grass. Even though they weren't normal blades, the blood could ruin them if left on in the sheath.
      He stood up and wandered over to where Halo lay, although he was sure she was dead. The others moved off in different directions to check the rest. He flipped her over with his foot, blood matting the few pieces of black hair that escaped from her helm.
      The gaping wound in her throat, still smoking venom spasmodically, proved she was dead, and he nodded at Dayus who was making sure of Jiro nearby. He nodded back in reply, ruby droplets dripping from the polished metal blade of one of his naginatas. Hardrock was dead as well.
      Cale and Anubis were taking care of Strata and Torrent a short distance away, and so Sekhmet went over to where Kamien lay, his helm next to him, one of the horns cracked and broken. The warrior was still alive, he saw after a moment, seeing his facial muscles move with his breathing. Good thing I checked, he mused, unsheathing a sword.
      As he held the katana above the red-armored boy, ready to put him out of his misery, a trickle of venom ran down its edge, hanging momentarily at the tip and then falling to land with a splash on Kamien's cheek. His pale blue eyes opened wide, and he attempted to scream and move away, unable to do anything.
      How interesting. Sekhmet let another drop fall. The battle had been boring, too easy, almost laughable. The children warriors had been unprepared, unskilled, unworthy opponents. The venom dripped down, and a thin cry finally escaped from Kamien's throat.
      The battle had been a waste of time and energy. Another drop fell, burning through the Ronin's skin. Their stolen armors hadn't saved them. He felt a surge of power rush through him, felt his armor seem to gain in energy. He needed to attack to something, to kill some more. The strange power-force of Wildfire's pain ran across his senses. "Yes, suffer," he said hoarsely to the boy, closing his eyes.
      Yes, the armor craves pain, it wants suffering to make it grow, a voice in the back of his head told him. Whether it was his own or someone else's, Sekhmet could not say. Gain in power, give it the pain it wants, and then you can kill and kill and kill for your master...
      Wildfire screamed louder this time, drawing the attention of the others. "Sekhmet!" Anubis said sharply as he came over to them. "Just finish him and be done with it!"
      He opened his eyes slowly and gazed at the other Warlord, regarding him calmly although the power inside him made him want to strike out at the man. "And you're supposed to be the Warlord of Cruelty," he said slowly, dangerously. "It seems to me that you're too soft for the job, Anubis."
      He lifted his weapon, a scowl on his face. "I will not take your insults. Perhaps there is another matter we should finish now."
      You want to hurt him, you want to kill him, kill him, kill him, kill... the voice inside said. Sekhmet drew his other sword. "Gladly." He gave in to the power's urging and moved to lunge at Anubis. "And this time I'll defeat you!"
      "Stop!" Dayus commanded, moving in between them. "Enough of this."
      Cale stood next to Anubis, glaring at them. "Now is not the time. We still have to collect the armors for Master Talpa." He looked down at Kamien and swung the Sword of Darkness, severing the Ronin's last thread of life.
      The armor on all five of the bodies began to shimmer, flashing bright and dark, and then suddenly the dead warriors were wearing only kimonos again, a dully pulsing crystal orb laying on the field next to each of them.
      "Ah..." Anubis said, bending to pick up the red crystal of the Wildfire armor. A bright yellow light stopped him, lighting up the area brighter than the sun. The Warlords were forced to hide their eyes, Cale crying out sharply in pain.
      "What is this?" Dayus shouted.
      Sekhmet tried to peer painfully through the light and saw five swirls of color racing toward a man and a white tiger. The white-haired man held a shakujo aloft, the colors one by one disappearing into the head of the staff.
      "It's the monk!" he called back. "He's taking the armor!"
      And then the light vanished suddenly, leaving only the Ancient and the tiger standing there for a moment before they, too, faded from view. "Damn!" Anubis swore. "We almost had them. Talpa will not be pleased."
      Cale shook his head, wincing as if he had a headache, which he most probably did. "But we killed the Ronins, didn't we?"
      "But we didn't get the armor," Dayus sighed, placing the naginatas on his back. "Talpa probably watched the whole thing. I suggest we go and face our punishment before he drags us back."
      Sekhmet nodded, carefully not looking at Anubis. He would most likely be punished for fighting with him, as well. And if I had managed to kill him... He looked down, suppressing a shudder. I would be lucky to be alive afterwards. "Agreed." The others gave their assent, and the four Dark Warlords teleported, failed and yet triumphant.

A nagging thought in the back of his head tormented him day in and day out. Sekhmet couldn't think of what it was, though, couldn't remember, and that was the problem. He had the feeling it was something important that he was forgetting, something to do with the Dynasty.
      Talpa had not been pleased when he'd learned that the monk had taken back the armor. He was obviously going to give them to another set of warriors, and was most likely not going to make the same mistake. He would keep them a secret until they were trained enough to stand a chance.
      But that had been a long while ago, nearly another century, and no one had been found yet who stood to possess the armors. Talpa had brought a seer from the mortal world, and the man was working to find the five destined to become Ronins. But that would take a little time, and so they had to wait.
      Sekhmet walked through the halls late at night, trying to remember what it was he had forgotten. And it wasn't just this that he couldn't recall; there were other things too. Things about his past, people he had known... it seemed that his past began and ended with the Dynasty, and that was that. Is this because of Talpa? Perhaps it is the influence of the Netherworld itself. Or maybe it is just time. Have I really lived almost two centuries?
      As he meandered down the corridors, he noticed a very dim blue light flickering from underneath one of the huge doors. It was Cale's room. Now why is he up? Everyone else is asleep or... otherwise occupied, as far as I know.
      He knocked on the door, if only to satisfy his curiosity. There was no answer, and so he cracked it slightly. Cale looked up from where he was sitting at a desk, a small nether-fire burning nearby. He had a brush in his hand, writing something, and when he saw Sekhmet standing there he quickly flipped his paper over.
      He came further into the room and snorted derisively. "I'm not going to try and read that, Cale." The other Warlord seemed about to say something, but apparently decided against it.
      "What do you want?" he asked, setting down the brush.
      "I wanted to ask you if you ever had trouble remembering things... before the Dynasty." Or is it just my mind going?
      Cale regarded him a moment with that judging look he had, as if he could see how serious he was. "Yes," he said finally. "I don't know why it is... so it's happening to you, too."
      He nodded in confirmation. "Something happened back then that I need to know. It's important..." And it had to do with the Ronins. But he couldn't say that out loud. If he was right, and something happened...
      The blue-haired man looked thoughtfully down at the paper. "I think it's because of Talpa. What happened then isn't important to us now. It's past, and so long ago." His eyes pierced into Sekhmet suddenly. "And yet, my family name was taken from me when I was a boy. I had my revenge and took it back, but I can no longer remember the name of the man, or how I did it. It doesn't seem right that he should take away..." Cale suddenly stopped talking.
      "Well, if he is taking my memories, and I need them and they're not there," Sekhmet said, turning away and walking to the doorway, "he's not going to keep from punishing me. It won't matter that it was he who prevented it. It's still going to be my fault." His hand tightened on the doorjamb.
      "Is what you've forgotten that important?" he said from somewhere behind him, sounding slightly confused.
      Sekhmet looked down, frowning. "Yes... I think it is." Perhaps meditation could bring the information out from the fog of forgotten past. It was worth a try... and at least he had learned that he was not alone in this. It was a start.

      He was deep in meditation when he was summoned. The call pierced through the calm as he tried to search through the fog, bringing him back to reality. He had seen things dimly, but nothing that seemed important enough to affect him now.
      Sekhmet sighed and changed into his armor, teleporting and standing in his place in front of his master. The others were there as well, and the seer man stood next to Talpa's throne, looking pleased with himself. The demon lord's form shimmered into being, but he did not speak. The seer shook back his long black hair and stepped forward, addressing the Warlords.
      "I have found the heirs to the Ronin armors," he announced. "According to our master, each of you will be sent to exterminate these heirs before they have a chance to receive the armors."
      Talpa's eyes flashed briefly. "I intend to stop this before it starts. Show them, Aedesola."
      "As you will." He gestured, putting images on the viewscreen. "These children are destined to become Ronin Warriors if they live to be old enough." Five young faces flashed before them. "Torrent. Strata. Halo. Wildfire. Hardrock. If they are not destroyed now, they will stand a good chance of defeating you." It seemed that some memory rose in Sekhmet's mind at those words, that of a forest, a hill, and people standing on it. It... has to do with this?
      "So we are to be the murderers of children." It was Anubis who had said this, and everyone's eyes focused in on him.
      Talpa flared angrily. "So, you would rather risk our defeat, Anubis?"
      He shook his head. "Of course not, my Emperor! But I do not feel that there is honor in killing children! That is for ninja and thieves." His eyes flicked over to Cale, who glowered but said nothing.
      "You will do it, nevertheless. You, Anubis, will be responsible for the deaths of the Torrent and Halo heirs. They are located in the same vicinity." The Warlord of Cruelty could do nothing but nod in response.
      Talpa turned his attention to the others. "Sekhmet, Hardrock is yours, and Cale will take care of Strata. Dayus, you have Wildfire. I wish you to go as soon as possible. Aedesola foresees an opportune time for you specifically."
      The man nodded, smoothing a wrinkle out of his deep purple robes. "If you do it in the next few days, there will be no interference."
      Dayus bowed. "I accept this assignment, my master. I will not fail you."
      "You had better not, Dayus, if you know what is good for you."

      Dayus had left a day later, ready to ensnare his prey, and the fog had still not yet cleared. Closer and closer and closer it seemed to come, yet staying maddeningly out of reach. If I don't find out what this is soon, I'm going... Sekhmet shook his head. "Perhaps I should speak to Master Talpa about this," he said aloud, and teleported before he could change his mind.
      No one was in the darkened throne room when he arrived, and suddenly it didn't seem like such a good idea after all. Sekhmet turned to leave, his eyes suddenly caught by a pale pulsing glow coming from the viewscreen. Wonder what Dayus is doing... will he succeed in killing the Ronin heir, or are they too well-protected? Something in him hoped the Warlord was having trouble, and so he decided to watch.
      He closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind to the mass of energy, activating it instinctively. He thought of Dayus and his mission, and immediately the screen brightened to show a farmhouse nestled near the edge of a stand of trees. The view suddenly switched to the inside of the house, but Dayus was nowhere in sight. Instead a woman stood alone in the middle of the room.
      "You can come out now, daughter! It's all right now, there's nothing to fear!" she called. Waiting. And no response.
      The screen's view changed as the woman took a few steps forward, and Sekhmet could see sprawled near the door the slashed, bloody body of a man. Two terrified young boys stood near a supporting post, securely fastened to it and gagged with strands of shimmering webbing. The Warlord blinked as he got a glimpse of another corpse, one that looked exactly like the woman standing in the room. He understood.
      "You don't have to hide anymore!" Dayus tried again, peering up at the ceiling. "Your brothers are here too! We're waiting for you!" There was a muffled scratching noise in another room, and a young girl slowly peered around the doorway, long locks of dark brown hair partially covering her face.
      She stared at the figure of the woman crouched down, her arms open wide, recognizing it through the darkness. "Mother!" She ran straight into Dayus's arms, stray strands of web sticking to her bare feet and legs. The prey had been ensnared.
      Dayus let go of the illusion, his form expanding into the familiar armored outline. The girl gasped and looked up at him. Sekhmet expected struggling and tears, but there was none. "You want the fire?" she said, staring straight into his good eye.
      "It's because of the fire," he replied calmly.
      "I don't want it," she whispered. "Please... you can have it when I get it... but please let us go."
      He nearly appeared to be moved by her words, his white eyebrows knitting momentarily. "I'm sorry, girl, but I must do this," he answered finally.
      She nodded and closed her eyes, leaning her head against his armor. "I know."
      Dayus held her almost tenderly, his hands finally moving up to grasp her neck. "Farewell, Wildfire child," he murmured. A swift movement and she died, instantaneously and painlessly.
      The Dark Warlord laid her body on the ground and stood, his job done. He faced the two boys and, after a moment's contemplation, removed his naginatas, slashing forward. The webbing that bound them fell to the ground, and the older boy immediately grabbed his brother and tried to protect him with his body.
      Dayus tore a chunk of wood from the wall and lit it in the embers of the rapidly dying fireplace. He pointed to the outer door. "Run," he growled in his deep voice, "or stay and be killed."
      The older boy yanked on the toddler's hand and nearly dragged him out the door. However, as they neared the threshold, the small child turned to face the Warlord. "Darkest prison sheds the light," he said, in a voice the was completely too old for his years. And then they had gone, running for the trees, for some kind of safety.
     
      In the Netherworld, Sekhmet stared at the screen in shock, his mind whirring. That was some kind of verse... I've heard something like that before, I know it. The image of the hill came back through the fog, and then it hit him. The seer, blabbing about Five Mistakes, reciting something... floating in the sky?
      His eyes went wide. He'd known it had been important. He also knew what he would get for failing to remember in time. "But it's too late," he said aloud, still standing there even as the screen faded to black. "It can't be true. She was just a crazy old woman!"
      "What are you talking about, Sekhmet?" came his master's voice from behind him. Slowly, he turned to face the throne.
      Sekhmet dropped to one knee, clenching his fist and holding it over his heart in a salute. "I have remembered something from my past," he said calmly, already steeling himself for what was to come. "A seer prophesied that I and the other Warlords would make five mistakes that would... lead to the fall of the Dynasty." He paused, swallowing.
      "Go on," the demon lord said ominously.
      He looked down at the marbled floor. "She recited a verse then, before I killed her. I had spared my sister, her husband and child when I had my revenge on my clan. I... think that was one mistake. Just now, Dayus spared two children. One of them said a similar verse. I think that was another, Master." He closed his eyes.
      The eruption of Talpa's fury came in the red light that hit him, knocking him to his hands and knees. A cry of pain was jolted from him as the invading light ran throughout his entire body.
      "No more!" Talpa boomed. "I will order it! There will be no more sparing! Everyone connected with the Ronin heirs will be destroyed. No more mistakes will be made!"
      The pain let up for a moment, and Sekhmet collapsed to the floor. But what if they've already been made? What if they were made long ago? But he wasn't foolish enough to voice his thoughts. The light flashed again, and he twisted involuntarily on the floor, gasping as his throat constricted.
      "Out of my sight!" Talpa thundered, finally stopping, and Sekhmet immediately transported himself back to his room. He collapsed on the bed in exhaustion, feeling as if he'd just been fighting for hours.
      "Damn it," he muttered, trying to make his tortured nerves relax. "Damn it all..." Talpa would undoubtedly punish Dayus, and maybe the others as well. He couldn't care, wishing that the memory had never come back. No more of the past. Don't need it. Nothing but pain... past is nothing but pain.

      Finally all the Ronin children, heirs to the armors, were dead. Their villages had been destroyed, and every last one of the townspeople hunted down and killed. The Warlords heard no more strange verses, spared no one. The monk had been stopped once more.
      Time marched on ceaselessly in the Mortal World below. The humans evolved, creating strange machines. The strange weapons called guns, which were around even when Sekhmet was young, grew more and more widespread. The people fought wars with the barbarians and the barbarians fought wars with each other.
      The denizens of the Netherworld watched the humans with all the curiosity of a scientist looking at a sample under a microscope. Planes, bombs, tanks, ships, and then the two huge decimating flashes of light that tore apart the land and the metal cities; they watched it all, not quite comprehending. They all had watched things change while their world stayed the same, and always would stay the same.
      The figures of a dozen or so children stood in the cavernous dark throne room, staring at the screen. They had been allowed out of the dungeons to see what their enemies were doing, what they might be up against when they finally began to fight for their master. Among them were six taller people: the Warlords, Taia, and the newest addition to the Dynasty's ranks, Lady Kayura.
      She had declared her loyalty to the Dynasty a short while ago, and already she was showing signs of becoming a very powerful fighter. Kayura stood, her arms crossed, and nearly glared at the screen. "What do they think they're doing?" she declared. "They have no armor, no protection. They're all going to kill each other."
      "All the better for us," Anubis said, considering. "We can still use their energy." Kayura seemed almost to pout, and he laughed. "You still want to try your skills in battle? You'll have a chance," he told her.
      Cale nodded, not taking his eyes off the viewscreen. "There's no way all of them are going to die."
      One of the children, kneeling on the ground, frowned and pointed at the image. "Look," he said, "that bird is metal. How can it fly in the sky if it's so heavy?"
      "And without any feathers," another put in.
      Sekhmet watched surreptitiously as Taia stood down in the midst of them, addressing them. A great explosion and flash of light was shown on the glassy screen. "Look at those things," she said. "How could you ever hope to fight against humans with guns and machines like that? How long will you last, just using a sword?"
      Anubis opened his mouth to reply, but never got a chance. Talpa himself appeared, the mask hovering in the air. All of the children immediately prostrated themselves on the ground, leaving the red-haired woman conspicuously by herself, standing. The Warlords and Kayura saluted.
      "I have heard your words," he told them. "Their machines are inconsequential. I can control the humans' technology!" Talpa's outline began to glow a bright red. "Watch!"
      The others looked to the mortal world, where they saw whole lines of tanks suddenly switch directions and rumble backwards, and planes just falling out of the sky. "So there's no way they can fight back..." Taia murmured.
      "Were you hoping there was?" the demon lord asked.
      It had been a rhetorical question, but, clenching her fists, Taia yelled, "Yes! The Ronin Warriors will return! They will return and defeat you. You can't hold them back forever! You will make a mistake, and then they'll get you!"
      Sekhmet wanted to shut her up, wanted to keep her from saying such things in front of the Dynasty's emperor. He had learned from experience to seem completely deferential, but she never stopped fighting. He almost admired her for it, in a way. You fool, do you want to be punished? he thought at her.
      She was hit with the energy, driving her to her knees. She gritted her teeth, shuddering under the force, but she did not break.
      "Learn from this example," the apparition said. "When we take this world, there will be no interference. The monk has been halted, and the seer tells me there are no new Ronins. But it is not time yet. These humans may do our work for us."
      "Understood, Master," Dayus said, speaking for all of them. The energy dissipated, and Taia bowed her head silently, taking deep breaths to steel herself. They rang out loudly through the room's total silence.
      "Return to your places, all of you," Talpa said. "All but you, Taia. I wish to have a word with you."
      Sekhmet resisted the urge to shake his head as he teleported. When would the girl learn?

      Talpa bided his time, waiting for the humans to perhaps defeat themselves, kill themselves off. And then peace came, and still he waited. There was no sign of any new Ronins. Victory seemed secure. It was nearly time. And so they waited. Because they had all of eternity to wait, if it was needed.
     
      The time was near. In less than one of the blinkingly fast human years, it would be time to attack, time to take the World of the Mortals. The Warlords prepared for victory. It would be so easy, and then the entire world's energy would be Talpa's to use. The Empire would grow. And then they would move on to the next world and grow some more. The victory would be sweet.
      Sekhmet ran the cloth down the blade of the old sword, polishing until the metal shone to his satisfaction. He nodded almost imperceptibly and stood, returning the sword to its place on the wall, displayed among other weapons of many kinds. It briefly glowed, and he peered quizzically at it for a moment before shoving the thought out of his mind. Sekhmet knew that he'd had the sword since he was young, and that it had been his first weapon, but couldn't remember just when or how he'd acquired it, or why it might glow.
      The metal of his subarmor clanked against one of the spears in a nearby rack, ringing metallically through the utter silence of the dark, weapon-filled room. Sekhmet glanced down in irritation before sending the armor away, now dressed in a plain blue robe. He snatched a cloak from the nearby chair and fastened it around his shoulders, walking toward the huge door.
      Suddenly he stopped and glanced down, hands unconsciously brushing the front of his robe. The familiar weight was missing from his neck, and he glanced around the room quickly.
      Sekhmet finally spotted the mass of gold on a nearby table and picked it up, watching as it twisted out into a green orb on the end of a thick chain. The orb was the size of a large marble and was held in its place by two snakes made of gold. He smiled.
      Hello, Father, he thought with amusement. Are you awake today? Must be so boring in there, all alone. Sekhmet chuckled and grasped the pendant's chain with both hands to fasten it around his neck. The orb began to pulsate with a green glow.
      Sekhmet lowered his hands slowly and peered at the small orb in the palm of his hand suspiciously. The golden snakes began to writhe, slithering out from around the orb and twining around Sekhmet's fingers. He jerked back in surprise and tried to pull them away. He felt two sharp pains in his finger, and looked at his hand blankly, as if he was watching this happen to someone else.
      The snakes' fangs were completely buried in his skin, and a sudden burning spread throughout him, starting at those points. Sekhmet felt all the thoughts in his head dissipate, and sank to his knees as the glow of the orb grew brighter. He stared, unable to look away, and the light flared and blinded him, color swirling before his vision.
      Sekhmet saw faces appear before him, people he knew he should recognize, and yet, did not, things he had hidden away for centuries, buried deep within him where he'd thought they could never return from. A black-haired woman with a sharp face and a sneering smile; the man with a dark orange beard and murder in his eyes; the girl who stirred such feelings in him... emotions he couldn't remember ever having felt before. An aching began in Sekhmet's heart, an aching that awakened the memories of all he had wanted to leave, of all he had suffered.
      He tried to close his eyes, to block out the pain, the returning of the hatred he had endured, but found he could not. Sekhmet whispered softly, a sound that hardly broke through the blanket of silence in the room. "No! I don't want this... Father, leave me in peace!"
      He felt anew the lashing of the whip against his back; tried to fight against the angry fist and the biting word; listened to the screams as everything he had known for so long died; heard his own mocking laughter as he killed them all.
      There, kneeling in the darkness of the Dynasty stronghold, Sekhmet remembered...

Epilogue