The Spirit of Wrath

Prologue: The Blade of Chaos

Long shadows were being cast outside the shrine of Baltoth, Lord of Order. The sun was setting over the capital city of Eastern Kalthak, Khasina. Here, Kushina, Priestess of the Lord of Order, was entertaining a special guest.

It was not a guest she desired to meet. She had not liked the man for years, but he was her superior. And he had desired to look at the relic Kushina guarded. He had passed the guards of King Asim without incident, for none could oppose him even if they had dared. Not that they had seen him walk like a shadow. Kushina had only known to look for him because a spirit of Baltoth had brought the warning. The Blade of Chaos was as elaborate as the legends Kushina had heard when she was a girl. It had an unholy green glow around the blackish-jagged metal. Its edges were serrated, and the eye upon the pommel followed her wherever Kushina walked. It hated her as it hated all the servants of Baltoth. You could tell Tuor was fascinated by it.

Tuor, tall, broad-shouldered, with tan skin. He looked at it fascinated, his eyes distant with the faraway memories of endless ages. Once those eyes had been those of a mortal man of thirty, when Kushina had been only a girl, now all traces of that man seemed gone, just as Sahshir was gone. His white garments believed the blue-eyed serpent within. A smile played across his face, and not a pleasant one. Kushina remembered why she had never liked or trusted him, even when he was Aresh. He reached out with scarred fingers so that they were mere inches from the blade. Kushina lowered her staff and set it to his hand in warning.

The Disciple of Baltoth he might have been, but that was too far. Tuor drew his hand back and looked at her. His eyes were far older than his body. He was almost forty, though his body showed no signs of weakness. "The Blade of Chaos. It was wielded by the champion of Typhos long ago. Entire armies have been laid to waste by this blade.

"And now it stands within this shrine. Waiting."

"You hold that blade in too much fascination, Tuor," said Kushina, wondering if he had some other agenda. She knew that Tuor's ways were not always those of Baltoth. He was a disciple, but what made him such was his status as a foil. "It is the nemesis of Order." Fascination was an understatement; the gleam in his eye could not be trusted.

"Chaos and Order are but two aspects of a greater whole, Priestess Kushina," said Tuor with a shrug. He reluctantly turned from the sword, and Kushina wondered why it fascinated him. "One without the other leads to weakness and oblivion."

"A perfect Order would lead to a paradise," said Kushina, voice cold. "An imperfect one may be lightened. But perfect Chaos would destroy all. Why did you wish to speak with me?"

Tuor turned and walked further up the great hall before looking at a suit of armor that once belonged to him. Raising a hand, he summoned the light of the moon's spirit to illuminate the place. His eyes were sad and younger for a moment, but the moment passed. It had been in another life, and for a moment, Tuor looked like that other life. He seemed Aresh again for a moment, the kindhearted man Kushina had grown up with.

Then he turned around. "Calisha is waning. New enemies have come to replace the old. The children of Baltoth bicker and fight with one another for power. We thrive from the splendor of a great past rather than in pursuit of a better future."

"There is much that is still great and may become greater," said Kushina. So, where was he going with this?

"Yes," said Tuor. "If it is allowed to flower."

"Speak plainly," said Kushina.

"The inevitable truth is that Order is temporary," said Tuor with a shrug of broad shoulders. "All systems, no matter how well designed, eventually fail. The virtue of those who created it gives way to the degeneration of the next generation. Or, in the case of immortals, virtue fails, and vices take shape.