Chapter 1: Innocence Lost ------------------------- "Thanks, come again!" The door shut with a jingle of bells, leaving the small shop empty except for the young man behind the counter. Slanting beams of warm afternoon sunlight shone on the items for sale: most of it was mundane hardware like tools, nails, rope, paint, and nautical supplies, but there was also a rack of Tonics, Antidotes and other medicines in small bottles. A row of Tinctures, useless now with the passing of magic, sat gathering dust on the shelf. Cal idly began to polish the wood counter-top, humming to himself. He looked about 20, with brown eyes and dark hair that had once been cut short and neat but had grown out a bit since. His clothes were simple: a green tabard belted over a linen shirt, grey wool trousers, and scuffed black boots. A little girl came running out of the back room, laughing. Her mother followed a moment after, her arms full of sales slips and a drawer for the cash register. She deposited her burden on the counter next to Cal and brushed a lock of honey-blonde hair out of her eyes. "Jo, don't run in the store!" The girl, who had been skipping down an aisle, stopped and came back up to the counter. "Can I have a lollipop, mommy?" she asked, one hand already reaching for the glass jar next to the register. "No sweets before dinner, you know that." Jo appealed to the other adult present. "Cal..." Cal chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry, little angel." The eight-year-old did look quite angelic in her lavender dress, though surely no seraph ever pouted so cutely. "Why don't you go out and play until it's time to eat?" Reluctantly, Jo did as she was told. Cal turned to the woman as she finished her work at the register. She smiled and counted out twenty gold pieces for him. "Here's your pay for the month, Cal. I wish I could give you more - you've been such a help to us, this past year..." Cal shook his head as he took the money. "No, ma'am. I should thank you, for taking me in when I had nothing, giving me a job and a place to stay." "Business has just been so slow lately..." Tara was interrupted as her daughter ran into the shop, breathless with excitement. "Mommy! There's a ship up in the air, come see!" Before either of the adults could say a word, Jo rushed out again. "An airship?" pondered Tara. "Maybe it's the Returners again," Cal offered. "But it's been months since they were here..." She closed the cash register and went outside, followed by Cal. Townspeople were standing in the street, looking up at the strange airship. There was a low murmur of speculation. Cal began to feel uneasy. The Falcon, he recalled, had a bright green gasbag, while this ship was a dark grey - almost black. It hung in the sky over Nikeah like a threatening storm cloud. Suddenly a bell rang out: the town alarm, used in case of fire... or attack. Fear gripped the crowd. Some ran off to help, while the rest wondered what was going on. "You'd better take Jo back inside," Cal said to Tara. She nodded. At that moment, there was a cry of distress; he turned, and saw a warehouse down the street go up in a fireball. The cause of the explosion was striding towards them: a group of clanking mechanical walkers, each twice as tall as a man, with a seat for the operator where a head should be. They were quite agile for their size, moving about as fast as a man could run. Behind them came soldiers, dressed in identical suits of dull brown armor with helmets that shaded the eyes. Cal felt a chill as he recognized that armor. "Imperials," he whispered. The scene dissolved into chaos as the one-sided battle was joined. The men of the town militia charged forward with whatever weapons they had, to be cut down by swords or swatted aside by powerful metal fists. A few were burned to ashes where they stood by heat beams fired by the Magitek Armors. There were screams, and people began to flee. Cal got turned around in the confusion, winding up several paces further down the street. Time seemed to slow for him, giving the moment an unnatural clarity. He heard Jo cry out for her mommy, saw Tara bend down to gather her into her arms. A stray Bolt from one of the Armors struck them both. For an instant, mother and child glowed brightly; then they ceased to exist. Only a smell of ozone lingered in the air. "NOOOOO!" Some soldiers, their attention drawn by his scream, started running towards him. Cal suddenly realized he was the only person left in the open. He turned and ran for an alley, hearing the pounding of boots on the cobbles behind him. His mind was still refusing to accept what he had just seen; he was operating on animal instinct alone. Cal grabbed a trash can as he ran down the short alley and sent it flying backward. There was a crash and a clatter as the first trooper stumbled over it and went down, with the next man falling on top of him. There was much cursing as the soldiers tried to get to their feet. Cal kept going. Two blocks later, he finally sagged against a cool wall to catch his breath. He looked both ways for signs of continued pursuit, but he seemed to be safe for the moment. Cal began to gently pound the back of his head against the wall, hoping it would jar an idea loose. It did. There was a manhole in the next street. Cal dropped down into the stinking darkness and pulled the cover back over himself, taking a moment to get his bearings. Ignoring the smell as best he could, he chose a tunnel and started down it. Half an hour later, a much dirtier Cal crawled out of a storm drain and into a small creek. He took deep breaths of the clean air, blinking in the sunlight. At last he gathered his wits and looked over the grassy bank. The airship still hovered over the distant town, but there were no patrols in sight. Cal drank some water, splashed some more over himself, and set out upstream, away from Nikeah and the sea. The sun dipped low in the west. It was dusk before he came to the place he was looking for: the collapsed remains of a lean-to, in the wilderness a few miles outside of town. Cal lifted back the roof of the shelter, relieved that it hadn't been disturbed. Underneath, in a shallow pit, was a large canvas duffle-bag that opened with the tug of a drawstring. He shook the contents out onto the ground. The bronze armor was still in good condition, as were the dark leather gauntlets. Cal picked up his gladius from the pile and unsheathed it. The steel blade gleamed in the deepening twilight as he checked for rust. Finally he put the sword aside and began pulling off his tabard. The armor still fit, a fact which caused him mixed emotions. He buckled the sword-belt around his waist and pulled on the thick gloves, then reached for the helmet. He paused before putting it on, turning it over and over in his hands as if seeking something in its dull brown surface. "Jo..." Cal Brody, late of the Imperial Army, mustered his courage and started the long walk back to Nikeah.