The Warning (A Collaborative Songs of War Fanfiction)

Chapter 1 - Who's Confused? You're Confused? I'm Confused! What?!

Technically true, some part of Zulius Kaltaris's frazzled, terrified consciousness points out. The other part of his mind is desperately trying to string some logic into this mind-boggling situation. 

All he knows for sure right now is that:

One - he is on Mt. Velgrin, surrounded by about a dozen heavily armed Voltaris warriors. On his side, he has the twins, Galadar and Hadion Mendoris. He also has Revar Kaltaris, several Nestoris and a badly wounded Sirius Sendaris. The odds are not in their favor to escape, or even live.

Two - apparently, everyone got it wrong after the Great War. Ardonia's biggest threat, the Deathsinger, is alive and seemingly in the prime of life (no pun intended), much to Zulius's displeasure.

It's not a lot to go on. As Zulius grips his staff, he has a terrible feeling that not all of them are going to make it out of this situation alive.

"Deathsinger!" Zulius musters the courage to speak, and is glad that he doesn't sound like he wants to dig a hole and hide in it. Which, to tell the truth, is exactly what he wants to do. "I should have known it was you behind this evil scheme."

"Of course." The Deathsinger's voice is cold and nightmarish. "Did you really believe my clan would ever give up so easily?" He looks annoyed for a second as he glances sideways at his clanmates. "And they have a single braincell to plan all this!"

Zulius tries - unsuccessfully - to stop his eye from twitching. "If you think so poorly of them," he asks blankly, "then why bother with all this?"

"They may be idiots, but they're idiots I'm responsible for," the Deathsinger responds with more than a little irritation.

"Aww," says a gravelly voice. Zulius raises an eyebrow at the speaker: a male Voltaris with markings like bloody ribs. A diamond greatsword is held blatantly in his hand - the weapon that once belonged to a (now deceased) Thalleous Sendaris. "I didn't know," the Voltaris continues, "you cared about us that much, Gress."

Zulius blinks and exchanges a glance with Hadion, who looks like he has been hit by a flaming cart. That would have been a funny image.

The Deathsinger narrows his eyes. "... Tygren, you have now lost the privilege to call me anything but 'Deathsinger'. Call me Gress again and I will end you myself."

The Voltaris - Tygren? - doesn't look at all afraid by this threat, which is surprising. "Oh, c'mon, Ingressus."

Seeming not to have heard him, the Deathsinger inspects his sword. Zulius wonders if he is making a bet with himself about who will be the next one to die by that fiery blade.

"Oh, c'mon... Deathsinger?" Tygren tries again, smirking a bit.

The Deathsinger gives a heavy sigh and rolls his eyes. "That's better." His vermilion gaze lands on Zulius and he grips the hilt of his sword a little tighter. "Anyway," he continues, voice almost a snarl, "where were we? Oh, yes. I was about to kill the lot of you."

Zulius makes his weapon ready, noticing that Revar, Hadion, Galadar and the others are doing the same - though Sirius can barely stand, let alone draw and hold his weapon. By the gods, he must survive, Zulius thinks. Please, let him survive.

Suddenly, the portal in the center of the mountain's peak makes a sound. Not really a sound - more a vibration thought the earth that shakes Zulius down to his bones. Everyone turns to look at it in confusion.

A Nestoris in his twenties stumbles through the portal. There are wounds all over his body and his golden makings, which are patterned like fishhooks, flicker dangerously. He supports himself on his staff - a double-bladed emerald weapon that gleams with golden light.