| abstract
| - General Tiburon, That is all the written evidence we were able to recover. There undoubtedly was more, but it has been forever lost in the ruins of old Targonor. We were, however, able to secure testimony from the last known person to have left Targonor and lived, a royal scribe by the name of Pepran Baldarus. His account, as authored by him, is as follows...
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* "The dead are within three day's march of the city," Commander Askalon said grimly, as I recall. Commander Winston Askalon marched down the length of the dim chamber, his military boots falling heavily on the stone floor. Torchlight flickered off the walls unevenly, dancing through the commander's shadow. Askalon was in late middle age, he was a proud man who had served Targonor for his entire adult life. His short, silvery hair was thinning now though. While there was still a youthful twinkle in his brown eyes, he was no longer the feared warrior from years past. Age had softened Askalon. His sword still hung boldly from his side, its blade as sharp as it had been twenty years ago. He drew it much less now, instead preferring diplomacy to resolve conflict. Soon though, he would unsheathe his sword again. The dead had driven the Vulmane from their lands and exacted a catastrophic defeat onto the human's assault. Now they came for Targonor. "We need more time," the commander said. There was a profound worry in his voice, one that had never been there before. "We'll never finish getting everyone out before they reach us." There were three others including myself in the council chamber. Askalon turned towards us, a grave look on his face. "We need to slow the dead down," he said. "What are you suggesting?" asked a deep voice. It was King Horus Targonor-Furth. He had been sitting in quiet contemplation for several minutes. The king wore simple clothing, having long since abandoned the more formal royal attire. His crown rested on the table before him, next to it lay his sword. The king and the commander had been boyhood playmates. Askalon was now King Targonor's closest friend and most trusted advisor. The two men had been through much together. They were both big, sturdy, family men and respected leaders. Time had been equally hard on the king. The first time I saw him, many years ago when I was still in my youth he had a full head of dark blond hair and a short, thick beard. Much like Askalon though, it was now mostly gray and deep wrinkles lined his kind eyes. Every new grey hair or wrinkle brought with it more wisdom, the king was fond of joking. "What I am suggesting is..." Askalon struggled to find the words, "...My lord I request permission to stay behind with a few units of men and try to slow the undead advance." The king rolled his eyes. "Winston, if you call me 'my lord' one more time I am going to talk to Marla and make sure you get nothing but raw beets to eat for a month. So stop it," he said with a grin. I knew the grin to be a mask though. Askalon always became much more formal when times were serious but he also had meant every word he said. The king knew it too. "Horus..." Askalon said, "A full third of the city has yet to evacuate and the dead will be here in a matter of days. Even if we were able to get everyone out in that time, they would be right behind us. Three more days, we need three more days. We can close the southern half of the city and my men and I can hold them off. That will be all the time we need to get you and the rest of the citizens out." The king gave his friend a serious look. "A noble gesture, my friend," he said gently, "But most of the army has already gone. Besides, staying behind is certain death - you know that. I will not willingly order any more to their grave, enough have died already." The commander returned his solemn look. "Even if it means saving thousands of others?" A dreadful silence hung in the room for several seconds, finally another voice spoke up. "He's right father." It was Horus' eldest son, Garus. He was a mirror image of the king -- powerfully built, broad shoulders and that thick blond head of hair, though he lacked his father's beard. I was privileged to have been his personal tutor for a number of years while he was a boy and was very proud at the young man Garus had grown to be. Horus looked to his son, who sat next to him. "If we don't, we risk losing everyone. The dead would simply just follow us north. They march day and night, it would not be long until they overtook us," the prince continued, "I can see no other way." The king closed his eyes and sighed, bracing his forehead with both hands. He sat quietly for a moment, and then looked up. "What of you, Captain Willem?" he asked pointedly, "You've more experience against them than any of us, can they be held for three days?" Captain Rastus Willem of the Red Blade Unit sat at the end of the table, his chair was turned around and he leaned heavily against the front of it. The Captain looked to be half-dead himself. He was unshaven and dark circles sagged under his deeply bloodshot eyes. Willem had a stocky, strong build and his dark hair was knotted and dirty and fell into his eyes. He looked pale. His skin had a sickly, almost yellow tinge to it. He lifted his head slowly and looked down the table at the other men. "Probably not," he said, his voice was rough and dry, "but it's the only shot we've got." The king nodded slowly and thought quietly for a moment more. "Very well then," he said. "Thank you all for your input, as always. Winston, Garus, please call an assembly of all those who are left. I wish to address them before nightfall." Garus nodded. "Of course," Commander Askalon said as he and the Prince hurried out of the chamber. The king then turned to Rastus. "Captain Willem, the Red Blades are the best we have left..." he began to trail off. "We'll stay until the end, if need be." Rastus responded. Horus nodded. "Thank you," he said simply. The meeting had taken place during the early afternoon. Prince Garus and Commander Askalon spent the next few hours hurriedly assembling what remained of the city's population. Captain Willem had left to, I can only assume, go talk to his troops. I stayed in the council chamber and continued to write. It was my job to document the evacuation and there was still much work to be done if there was to be any order at all once we arrived at the rebuilding site along the northern coast. The king stayed in the chamber with me for a time, he sat quietly in deep contemplation. I know he was wrestling with the decision whether or not to leave a deployment of soldiers behind. I'm sure the thought that when he left for the new site that he'd be leaving behind men to die weighed more heavily on him that I can possibly imagine. Horus had been wracked with guilt upon the army's initial defeat at the hands of the dead, even though to a man, each of his advisors - Commander Askalon included - had agreed the best solution to the threat would be to eliminate it before they got to Targonor. They had failed to do that, and Horus had made the hard decision to abandon the city and rebuild in the north. He had pledged that he would not leave until everyone had safely fled the city, that no man would be left behind. Now, it seemed as though he would have to go back on his word and I know that it was not sitting well with him. I continued to work quietly, not wanted to disturb his thoughts, until there was a polite knock from the other side of the chamber's large doors. "Enter, please." the king called out, as he was drawn from his thoughts. The chamber's wooden door opened a bit and Garus peeked in. "The crowd has been assembled, father. It will be dark soon." "Thank you," Horus replied, "I will be out in a moment." Garus nodded and backed out of the room, closing the door softly. The king sighed and shot me a tired glance. "I'm not really looking forward to this," he said. I forced a smile. "Don't worry, you'll do fine. You always do." In truth, I had absolutely no idea how he would do, or what he was even going to say. I was more than a little curious to hear it, myself and suddenly wished that I were not stuck in that room still working. Horus Targonor was a wise leader though, and I had faith that whatever he decided on would be the right thing to do. He always did the right thing. The king sat up from his chair slowly and looked down at the table before him, as if considering something. He reached down and picked up his broadsword. He held it in his hand for a moment, deliberately turning the hilt in his palm before sheathing it across his back. The king reached down again to pick up his crown, but stopped. He looked over towards me. "Would you mind telling Garus that I'll be a few more minutes?" he asked. "Of course, my lord." I said and began to stand up. A wry grin crept across his face, "You can stay out and listen if you'd like too." He'd read me as if I were no more than a child. "Thank you," I blurted out stupidly and began to rush towards the door, embarrassed. I stopped abruptly though and turned back. "...my lord," I added quickly. Horus just laughed. "Go," he said with a wave of his hand. "I will see you out there." I exited the room hurriedly and made my way towards the balcony from which the king would be speaking. I cursed myself along the way for my incompetence. This was not the first time I'd forgotten to address him as my lord. I knew Horus did not care if anyone addressed him properly or not... but it was just that, proper. He just had a way of disarming you though, of making you forget that you were talking to your king. I consider myself an intelligent man, who is not easily influenced by others. But being around Horus always had that effect, it was a humbling experience to say the least. The balcony was on the edge of the third story of the keep and was where the king gave all of his speeches. Its door was propped open against the end of the hallway. A thin curtain now separated me from the outside. I could hear the crowd down below, anxiously awaiting their king to speak. I poked my head through the curtain. Prince Garus and Commander Askalon were both there, each standing in a position to flank Horus when he spoke, as they always did. I was surprised to see that Captain Willem also stood outside, directly behind the commander. He looked to be no better than at our meeting before. "He's on his way, he'll be another minute or two," I whispered loudly to Askalon. The commander looked towards me and nodded. He then walked to the center of the balcony and looked out over the crowd. I slipped back behind the curtain and leaned against the wall. Soon, I heard a heavy walking and turned to see the king coming towards me. He'd donned a chain mail tunic and over it he wore his bright, gold embroidered breastplate. His crown wrested atop his head and over his shoulders was draped a dark cape of magnificent blue threading. Now he looked like a king. He caught my eye and grinned. "It itches," he said. "Have I ever told you that?" I shook my head. "No, my lord, you haven't." "Well it does," he frowned and scratched at his neck, "I should really have it looked at sometime." "Are you ready to go then?" I asked. Horus looked himself over and straightened his cape. "I suppose so," he said somewhat reluctantly. I could tell he was not looking forward to going out. I poked through the curtain once again and told Askalon that the king was prepared. He barked an order and from outside we heard deep drums begin a steady beat. Their cadence echoed through the halls loudly, and silenced the crowd. "Good citizens of Targonor," Commander Askalon bellowed loudly. Horus silently mouthed the words as his old friend spoke. "He always says the same thing," the king joked good-naturedly. "It is my honor," Askalon continued, "to present to you..." A chorus of horns began to sing out the royal fan fair, the crowd outside erupted into a frenzied cheer. I glanced at the king, who could not help but to smile in spite of himself. "Your King... his royal majesty Horus Targonor-Furth!" the commander finished. The king patted me on the shoulder and then made his way through the curtain as the fan fair continued to blaze throughout the assembly grounds. As he stepped out onto the balcony, the roaring cheers intensified. The overwhelming ovation was not insincere. The citizens of Targonor dearly loved their king and in these desperate times eagerly awaited any word from him. He stood at the edge of the balcony before his subjects for several seconds. The fan faire stopped but the thunderous cheering only became louder. I could not make out much through the thin curtain, but I saw the king hold up his hands, as if to quiet the crowd. It had no effect. He smiled and let them continue to cheer for a small time longer, and then tried again. Still, they did not stop. Horus' shoulders slumped slightly and he turned his head from the edge of the balcony, bringing a hand to his face. Prince Garus leaned towards his father but the king held out a hand. "I'm fine." He said quietly, I could barely hear him over the crowd. "They aren't making this any easier though." He took a long, deep breath and turned back to again face his subjects. He held his arms up highly and gestured for quiet, this time the cheers gradually subsided. The king lowered his hands, letting them come to a rest on the polished railing and gazed out into the mass of people before him. He paused for a moment, letting the silence seep into every corner, and then began to speak. "I must thank you for the welcome," he began, "It was overwhelming, to say the least." His tone then turned much more serious. "My friends... we have been through much recently. Within a matter of weeks, we were thrust from peace and stability into a state of war against an aggressor whom we did not even know. Our family, and our friends, went to do battle with this enemy and met with disaster. Many of our beloved now walk the long, starry road to the heavens. "And while they go to regain their peace, we remain here. Our home, our great city of Targonor is being threatened... threatened by an enemy we cannot defeat. The army of the dead marches upon us... never stopping, never resting, and never yielding. Their evil relentlessly pushes north, through the lands of the Vulmane and now into our very homes. "In two days time, the dead will arrive at the gates of Targonor," the king paused as startled gasps rose from the crowd, "They have come faster than we anticipated and they have caught us off guard. This does not leave you with much time. Tonight you must make haste and pack what you can. For tomorrow at sunrise, the final caravans to the north shall depart. Prince Garus will lead and will be charged with burning the fields, and evidence of any passage, behind you." I saw Garus and Commander Askalon exchange an anxious look, but neither moved. A murmur began to run through the crowd, slowly growing in volume. The king continued. "My friends, I have asked much of you. I asked you to fight this evil, and you did... valiantly. I asked you to abandon your homes, and you did so without complaint. Now I must call upon you to rise up one last time. "The dead storm Targonor in two days, what they will find is a city abandoned and a trail leading north. That cannot be allowed to happen. The fires must be given time to burn and you must be given time to escape. "It was not long ago, I pledged to you that so long as a single man remained in Targonor that I would not leave. That pledge holds true to this day. I call upon all able bodied and willing men to join me, and stay -- to buy the time that is needed." My mouth dropped as a shocked silence fell over both the assembly grounds and the balcony alike. "We will stay and we will fight...we will fight for the very survival of our people." The king then slowly, so that all could see, reached across his shoulder and drew his sword. He held the blade high, pointing it upwards into the air. "Let them come!" he called out to the stunned crowd, "Targonor will be waiting."
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