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The Ilma are mentioned in the Escape from Humanity but who are they? An Alien race, some good, some evil? Immortals who have great knowledge of the universe? What is their curse and why do they consider themselves the chosen people of the Universe? Who are the Graul? The servant race, now some of the most powerful beings in Besan Gretan? Briefly is the history and beliefs of the Ilma hinted at in the Knights of Earth saga, yet it is a rich history, full of tragedy, deceit, and the corruption of power. A story of the long defeat, how those chosen to be the wardens of the Gods, become vengeful Gods in their own right. The Sundering of the Two moons is the first part of the History of Ilmgral. In this book series I will bring you the long tapestry that saw the Ilma rise to absolute power and be cursed by it. This history is told in short stories of various styles, giving an in-depth outlook into the history of Ilmgral, like the Silmarillion never could for Middle earth.
The Sundering of the Two moons, focuses on the earliest years of Ilmgral and consists of four stories:
The Beginnings of the Universe are told in the book: The Holy Quadrant. Here the three plains of existence are explained, along with the coming of the Vassals and the immense powers given to the Ilma, with their place as custodians explained.
Notes as both squire and Lord- Follows Bruska Crud, one of the Ilma as he navigates becoming a squire to one of the greatest warriors of the time, Selosa Aquitex. He witnessed some of the Key events of the middle years of the Age of Vassals, including the battle of the crossroads and the burning of Fasurasuta.
The War of the Dividing Mountains- Newly come into his Lordship, Suda Drage, relation of the Vassal Drage Livella, must defend his home from the Kingdom of Scaraden. This story, though thousands of years before the events of the Knights of Earth Saga, ties in the most of all these tales, for it is the Pledge of Suda Drage that lingered as a dark shadow over the Ilma in all their many wars and would eventually bring war to Earth, until one from the Dragor would realm would do war upon Scaraden again.
The Sundering of the Two moons- This tells the story of Morelin, a high lord of the Ilma and Lucarnia, daughter of the wood king, an evergreen of the Krun-ilma, as their love and betrayal of their duties, eventually tears the celestial bodies of Ilmgral apart.
The Escape from Humanity will no longer be available for purchase in the Amazon store. Escape was the first novel I ever wrote at the tender age of sixteen and has kept many of the flaws that you have when first starting out in your literary career. While publishing The Sundering of the Two Moons, I realised how far I have come as a writer, with my own style. That style is lacking from the Escape from Humanity, so much so that I cannot even read it myself for reference without cringing. Therefore I have taken the hard decision to un-publish it while I work on a full re-write and re-publish. I hope to bring the same level of quality that I believe I showed in the Sundering of the Two Moons and kick off the Knights of Earth Saga the way it deserves before the publication of the third book in the series late next year. The new edition of the Escape from Humanity should be available early next year with a brand new title- KNOWLEDGE LOST.
I hope I can bring you the start of Thomas Lita’s journey in a fun and action packed way, written to the standard that I expect from myself. In the mean time you can still check out The Sundering of the Two Moons, a collection of short stories tied in with the Thomas Lita universe. This is now available as Hardback, truly showcasing Emily Mortimer’s amazing art work.
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“I want to know why I was summoned?” Urgarak yelled as he stopped in the threshold of the door, his breath stolen at the vastness of the grand hall. He had been inside its white walls before but rarely enough that the hugeness of it still made him feel like a tiny speck in the universe. He looked towards the great domed roof, supported by two figures both standing far over fifty feet. He cast his eyes away from the marble, sculpted in the likeness of the first kings of Scaraden, who had formed the eternal empire. Urgarak marched forward, a ceremonial cape billowing with every step. A couple of paces behind two of his Murka generals followed, their arms scraping the red floor tiles. As he walked, Urgarak straightened the medal on his chest. The image of the flag of his ‘home’ planet filled him with confidence, even if the red moon of the warrist movement would outrage the members of the council. The chairs of the hall were empty along Urgarak’s march but statues of all the high kings stared down at him from marble eyeballs but Urgarak kept his own eyes on the stage in front of him. Eight of the nine seats were occupied and the figures were sat forward watching Urgarak as intently as the statues did. Urgarak stopped at their feet and bowed at the large marble figures that stood behind the council. The king eternals, those who had led Abgdon during times of war. He wished beyond anything that they were here now, they would understand his cause. Two were out there somewhere. Prisoners of those Ilmgralite fools. Only the third had died truly, one of only a small few of the Ilma who had died after the curse had come upon them. The council regarded Urgarak with their golden eyes and Urgarak met their stares confidently, but he could not keep his gaze from moving to the middle seat of the council that sat empty. It would seem King Crio would not entertain him. “Urgarak Mortrim.” One of the figures said. He was wearing robes of pure white that seemed to match perfectly with his fully white scaled skin. That made Urgarak snarl, the perfection of the Ilma. His skin was covered in red scales and many dotted his narrow face. “Gorin.” He replied scornfully. “Remember your place Graul.” Came another voice from a far chair. Urgarak’s eyes strayed towards him and black veins flared before he could control it. Urgarak took a deep breath, he had to remember what he was. The Ilma were the chosen people after all, his power was just a gift. Urgarak turned his frustration back into the cruel determination for his cause and so turned his eyes back to Gorin, “My place.” He murmured, “Is to hunt down those who hold the essence of our people captive. To bring war to a race who has aided the Ilmgralite’s in their tyrannical hold on the universe.” Gorin stood swiftly, the air in the hall seemed to surround Urgarak and his eyes flicked to the floor in fear, “We called you back one season ago.” The head of the council said without showing any of the anger Urgarak was sure he felt, “Yet you returned to Uralese, that was a mistake.” Urgarak’s golden eyes flashed black for a second and he spoke grimly, “Uralese is still a troublesome world, our might should not be forgotten there long. I returned our fleet and came with the only ship I could spare.” An old lord stood. He looked like he was close to his rebirthing, but he still spoke with the musical power of the Ilma, “It is impressive for one of the Graul to rise so high within our ranks.” Urgarak nodded but it was an insult and he knew it, “You were sent to Earth to find evidence of Cirtroug’s imprisonment, not to release him.” He took a deep laboured breath, “We have all seen the signs. The Gods are moving, they are planning their final strike to crush the Ilma. Crio will avoid war at all costs.” “Crio is a coward.” Urgarak said before he could stop himself. “HOLD YOUR TONGUE.” Gorin yelled and all the air was sucked from Urgarak’s lungs and he stood, gasping in the vacuum that Gorin had created. Urgarak could feel the pressure swelling his eyes and his chest tightening. His legs wanted to fall but it seemed Gorin was holding him up as well. Slowly with a white smile, the Ilma released him. The first breath after the denial was like syrup. “What do you know of Uralese?” Urgarak asked through his deep breaths, “It must seem a troublesome place, the once slave world of Ilmgral. What petty trifles did they ask for it? You should see it high council, Graul, Murka and Livet children starve in the streets while wars rage across its continents. It is a forgotten world.” The old Lord spoke again, “All Uralese is worth is the Virdact that we mine from it, the Livet’s could barely write before we found them and now they live in luxury.” “Starvation is not Luxury.” Urgarak said grimly, “Uralese needs a war, only in war do our people find sufficient work, only then DO YOU NOT LEAVE US TO ROT.” “YOU WERE SENT TO STUDY EARTH, NOT TO RELEASE THAT MANIAC CIRTROUG UPON THE HUMANS.” Gorin yelled and thunder crackled in the sky above Scaraden. Urgarak took a step back, “I did release him.” He muttered, “On Uralese the truth of the Gods was shown to me, the true legacy of the Ilma. I harness it now and it showed me how we can defeat both the Gods and the Ilmgralites. Earth is the key, the one who defeated Cirtroug was of Ilmgral, reskinned among the humans with all their divine darkness.” He saw the dark look in the councils eyes and decided to press further, “Not only did the Ilmgralites create those abominations on Earth, not only did they imprison Abgdon’s great heroes on that world, but they send their people to live among them, to breed them into the army Ilmgral needs to rule this universe. I will not stand by and let that happen. You are the Ilma, the chosen people, tasked with keeping the Gods from tearing our universe apart. Well the Gods work through Ilmgral. I can see it in the stars, and they will use Earth to finally crush us.” Gorin seemed tired, his eyes fell pityingly onto Urgarak. A sign of mortality, he thought. Urgarak would not have much longer in the universe and his haste for war was due to that fact. The council of the Ilma of Scaraden had none of those issues. Gorin had served since the first days of Abgdon. His father, who gave his energy to terraform Abgdon, had been born just after the curse had been bestowed to the Ilma. Gorin had patience and he would not let Urgarak lead Crio into a war where only the destruction of the universe would follow. Gorin returned to his seat, “Urgarak.” He paused, “You are hereby suspended from command. You will return to Uralese and surrender your fleet to Flight Marshal Cambane.” Urgarak smiled, black smoke coursed through his veins, darkening his mind. He knew it would come to this. If the council would do nothing, it was best that he was a part of no nation to fight the war his way until both Abgdon and Ilmgral had no choice but to intervene, “As you wish my Lords.” He bowed low and looked at the statues of the kings, “May the eternal church never falter and the Gods tremble at the might.” The council elders nodded and watched as Urgarak and his two servants left the hall in disgrace. Gorin turned to the Lord beside him who whispered in Gorin’s ear, “We should blast him out of the sky.” “No.” Gorin shook his head, “Urgarak is a fool, reckless and narrowminded, blind to anything else but his goal and that will one day see him to his death but he is beloved on Uralese. The empire of the Ilma have split once already and we do not need the resource planets rising up under his dark dream.” Gorin then signalled for one of the guards, who had sat silently behind, to step forward. The Ilma who stood beside Gorin was young in terms of the Ilma, he had never lost the physical form he held but he was powerful and full of youthful aggression, “You will go with Urgarak and make sure he follows our command. It would be good for the people of Uralese to see one of the Guardians of Eternity.” “As you wish my Lord.” The man said and he marched quickly to follow Urgarak. “War is upon us.” The old Lord continued, “Crio will not be able to delay it. We should recall our fleet. If the foretold war is not against Ilmgral then it will be against the Gods themselves.” Gorin pointed to the hall before them, “Scaraden stands forever. We built this hall so not even Livella herself could stand within it. If it is to be war, then the darkness shall lead us to victory and neither Ilmgral nor the Gods will stop us. The time is not yet ripe, however. We are too few after the last war. Crio is desperate to learn where our kin are imprisoned.” “What of earth?” A young lord, only risen after Crio had ascended to be king, spoke then, “Urgarak is right. One of the Graul has reskinned among them, that is rare enough but then to live as a human. One like that, allied with the half breeds could bring a new power to the universe that had never been foretold by Livella.” Gorin seemed un-moved, “Ambassador Lucast assured us he has no memory of his past.” He then smiled cruelly, “Though the thought intrigues me, maybe in him the experiments of old will work. A child of Ilmgral with all of our gifts mixed with the darkness and natural brilliance of Humanity, a sight that might even make the Gods tremble.”
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A wind that seemed to carry words between the trees. He listened more carefully, there were words on the wind. Morelin walked towards the sound and the words grew in their clarity. He stepped towards a clearing and gasped. Beneath the dusk moon, a woman sat, singing to the ground, as vibrant blood red flowers bloomed at her words. Morelin, like all the Ilma, could speak to plants and command them to grow. It was the only part of his power that had been bestowed by Gadrika when the gift of the Ilma had been forged, yet he used it little. Morelin was a warrior, he needed his powers to be a weapon. He stood in the shadow of the trees, watching her as she worked. From that moment the doom of Morelin was locked and the greatest tragedy of the Ilma’s youth was set in motion. He had heard rumours of Lucarnia and had seen her once as a child but in her womanhood, no story could convey her beauty. Her skin absorbed the red light of the moon and gave it back in greater beauty. Un-like Morelin, she had no red scales but instead lines like roots came down from her eyes and clung delicately all the way down her cheeks. She was slender like a flower in spring, but Morelin could feel the strength of the trees in her. A wind rose around Morelin and seemed to flutter around Lucarnia. He watched as a smile crept onto her lips. She sang again and a beautiful red flower bloomed. Her gaze fell suddenly towards him, “Come out fair lord and bask in the light. Umoria will soon come across the glade and their light will mix. Come and see the flowers, you are upsetting the trees.” Nervously Morelin stepped into the glade. He bowed slightly; his hand pressed against his forehead. She did the same, “Hail lord of the Ilma.” Her eyes went to the silver flower pin on his shoulder, “You are of the house of Mina?” Morelin stared into her piercing green eyes that seemed so strange from the golden irises he was used to, “I am Morelin Diactra.” He said in a shaking voice, “From the town of Minagrin.” “It is a pleasure.” She said as she turned back towards the flowers. “You must be Lucarnia Bitaran, daughter of the wood king.” She nodded and Morelin stepped closer to her and as he did, Umoria moved across the sky and gave its silver light to the clearing and it mingled, as she had said, with the light of Aradtoria. “Tell me wood daughter, how did you know I was here?” He asked. “You said it in the name you give me. We who live in the wood, hear the trees and many do not like the hearts of the Ilma, who chop them down for their machines of war.” She laughed like it was some joke, but Morelin hesitantly looked towards the trees, his power reaching out to silence the wind that blew through them. His eyes then went down to the flower, “This is livora.” He said, “That grows only on the lands where the kin of Drage have lived.” She looked up at him, taking in the lines of his face, “It was sent over by my family who reside over the ocean. It does not like our soil so I must force it to grow.” She pulled a seed from the top of one of the flowers and placed it in Morelin’s hand, “Perhaps you could grow them in your garden my lord.”
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“I hate it.” Idris said as he walked in, pulling at his own red shirt. His red hair was combed backwards, held there by a band of leather. “Behave.” Lavia said as she came in behind him. She now wore a gown of white, beautifully framing her body. “Father.” Idris said, standing in front of Suda, hands on his hips, “Why do I have to wear this?” A girl followed him in. She was also dressed in white, and she had a silver ribbon in her red hair. Alina, Suda’s oldest daughter, smiled at him. Finally, a toddler stumbled into the room. Belia was Suda’s youngest child, and she also pulled at the dress she was wearing. Suda knelt in front of his son, “Now Idris.” His voice was stern, “Tonight we celebrate Gadrika and the food that he blessed us with. We must dress for such an occasion.” A smile appeared on Suda’s face, and he whispered, “And if you are good, I will let you stay up late to watch the fire dancers.” A smile grew on Idris’s face, and he bounced on the balls of his feet. Lavia coughed, “Have you forgotten Suda?” “No I have not.” He replied as he stood and walked to his dresser. He pulled from it a small scabbard, which held a short metal knife. He turned, smiling at the young boy who watched the knife curiously, “Now Idris.” Suda knelt before his son, “Today you are six harvest festivals away from becoming a ward. For this reason, you shall receive your first blade, as I did at your age.” Idris smiled gleefully as Suda fastened the blade to the boy’s belt, “Look after it well. My father had it made for me.” Idris nodded and charged out of the room, most likely to show his friends. Alina and Belia ran up to Suda expectantly. “I have not forgotten you both.” He said and walking back to his dresser, he pulled out two bright red flowers. Kneeling beside them, he wove the stems into both of the girls silver bands, “These grow only in the soil around Amoradrage, or upon lands where the Drage family have lived. They are a gift from Livella, showing our connection to her. Wear them tonight and the vassal of light will bless this house.” The two girls left, both standing taller, like grace personified. Suda stood and kissed his wife upon her lips. From his desk he took up another cutting of livora and handed it to Lavia, “For the one who holds my heart.” He whispered. She smiled and wove the flower into a loop at her breast. Together they left for the grand reception hall. Musicians played and Ilma from the merchant families danced, drank, and ate. At their entrance there was silence and Suda stood, arm in arm with his wife and addressed the crowd, “Happy harvest to you all.” His voice echoed in the hall, “Bless Gadrika for the life that he has given to us. May the tapestry that he weaves continue to bring you all and the realm of Dragor prosperity. Today we shall celebrate the gift that Gadrika has given us and celebrate the gift of eachother. May the stars guide you all.” A cheer went up in the hall and then the guests went back to their feasting and dancing. Suda stepped towards an old woman. Her hair was white, and her face wrinkled. She knelt by Alina and entertained the girl with a trick that made the fire the old woman produced, change colours. It was rare for a woman of the Ilma to be able to still use her power at that age. With every child of the Ilma born, the mother diminished, part of her own power going into the child. That was the reason twins were rare, or it was unusual for women to have more than three children. Lavia could barely produce a flame now but what she lost in power; motherhood gave back in beauty. “Mother.” Suda smiled as he approached the old woman. Alina looked fondly at her father before running off to follow Idris. The old woman turned towards Suda. “You look regal my son.” His mother said, her gaze fell downwards as she examined the sword at his belt. “It suited father better.” He replied. His gaze swept across the party goers. He had spent many harvest festivals with his men, staying in inns where no one cared that he was the heir apparent to Dragor. “Your father never liked the harvest festival.” “He never liked celebrating.” His mother gave a hearty laugh, “He was a pious man. He believed in celebrating the gods every day, but you are not cut from his cloth.” Suda nodded as his mother left him in search of food. His father had not been a ward for any lord or learned much of fighting. Unlike all the other first born of the house of Dragor, his father had spent the years between his coming of age and his rise to lordship, studying in the church of Brinsita. Suda believed that was why, when need for battle came, that he had been wounded so badly. Lavia came and kissed her husband before taking the children out to enjoy the festival. As he sat, Ordin and Loxa grabbed harps and began to sing for the hall. Their voices were sweet, and they sang songs of Gadrika, just as well as they sang songs of debauchery in small village taverns. As they sang, Sirgrin came and sat next to him, “My lord.” He whispered, “You should go to the square and be amongst your people.” Suda’s heart warmed at the thought, but he shook his head, “My father never went out to the festival grounds.” “Your father believed he must rule from inside these walls.” Sirgrin said, “But you are not your father, and you are well loved by the people. You can be a different lord than he.” Others would not have spoken to him so, but Suda had helped raise Sirgrin and he trusted his counsel above most others. Suda nodded and stood, his shirt feeling a bit lighter as he stepped out into the cool autumn air. Two Graul soldiers followed him, there red shirts shining, a black dragon embroided on their chests. People cheered at the sight of their lord and Suda walked through the streets, smiling at Graul and Ilma who danced and sang under the stars.
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Tom had entered another world; he was walking through the most beautiful forest he had ever seen, full of all the colours of spring, summer and autumn mixed together, of all the seasons, it appeared that only winter never touched this forest. As the wind blew through the trees and whistled through the leaves, the trees themselves rose up in song, a song spanning the years the trees had seen, ferocious battles and fallen kings were lamented, whilst heroes and great deeds were glorified in their continuous song. The trees were obviously unlike any from earth with their song in the air they were more alive, and more splendid, the very smell of their wood filled Tom’s body with the vibrancy of their life. Around him people walked, paying no heed to him at all, they were slightly different to the others from his dreams; their scaled skin carried tints of green and browns like they were born from the earth itself, and leaves of different types and colours grew through their long brown hair and around their eyes, instead of red scales they had twig like veins that stretched out across their skin. Tom was happy to walk amongst these people, he realised he had dreamt of these people once before, and had learned of their history in another dream, they were the forest dwellers and they had long known peace, continuing to pay tribute to their high King. Suddenly a deep fear seemed to grip Tom, screams shot up from the distance and bells hidden in the branches sounded out, the war that had for so long been held back from these woods had finally reached them, and it burst through the trees abruptly. Fire leapt from tree to tree and Tom could feel such an evil in that woodland paradise as it quickly became a fiery hell. Tom instinctively dropped to the floor and closed his eyes tight, and when he finally felt brave enough to open them, the world before him lay in a burnt out waste. All around him the beautiful and peaceful forest dwellers lay lifeless on the floor, their twig like veins glowing dully with the dying embers of the fire that had devoured them; with blood dripping from their half open mouths the last of their beauty was lost from the world.
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Selosa suddenly sat up high upon Grald, “Now is the time, flank them, flank them.” She drove her heels into Grald’s side and charged, the rest of the cavalry moving with her. I spurred Dwell on, doing my best to keep pace. Dwell responded to all my movements and pride welled up in me for the beast, “I will make a war steed of you yet.” I cried over the crashing hooves. The riders in front of me crashed into the enemy first, breaking them like water upon rocks. I saw none of those our stampede trampled. Suddenly I found myself at the head of the column of riders and I pulled from the ground, a great swirl of water that charged ahead of me and Dwell. I yelled as we struck hard into the line of infantry. Shruda’s flew in front of me, crashing into our enemy while my wave threw others off their feet. I had never killed before, but I felt no shame in that moment. Blood lust filled me as I heeled Dwell to go faster. It seemed to me that maybe our cavalry charge would win the day, but a horn call signalled our doom. We were charging headlong into the cavalry of Melkin. Two speeding walls approached eachother, neither able to turn aside. The thud as brokin hit brokin was horrendous. Horn’s ripped skin or knocked rider from steed. No weapons were used, our brokin were our weapons. Steeds doomed to die. I hit the line late, and my water pummelled into a brokin, knocking it aside and toppling its rider, who screamed as hooves surrounded him. Then I suddenly lunged sidewards. I stared into the face of my enemy, mad rage in his golden eyes. Before his bone shruda could strike, I formed fire in my hand and the bright burning spear split his mouth.
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Kindness.” Agral spat, his eyes burning with rage, “Look at me.” Krim did and his brother’s repulsiveness shocked him. Haggard, rotting, skin hung off his bony frame. His hair was falling out in clumps but still Krim pitied him, “You took all the power for yourself.” Agral continued, “We were meant to be equal, but you stole everything from me.” “And so you took my wife from me?” Krim became like a flame then, heart kindled with rage and his power overcame Agral. A healing power Krim sent and at once his brother changed. He grew tall and strong, with skin of perfect white scales and his pupils receded, showing brilliant golden eyes, “See what you could be brother.” Krim begged, “Call back your forces, relent from this venomous dream and be as a brother to me again.” The sight of what he might have been only enraged Agral more and as his dark power once again overcame Krim’s, he was more gruesome than ever. He drove forward and such rage was in his spirit, that no power of Krim could stop him and he drove his sword between his brother’s breast and the blade broke at the hilt. The skies wept for the passing of Krim, and his forces were swept away by the hordes of Agral. The banner of Gadrika returned on a swift breeze and lay upon the body of Krim. A light blinded Agral and as he pulled the cloak away, Krim was no more.
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He had heard rumours of Lucarnia and had seen her once as a child but in her womanhood, no story could convey her beauty. Her skin absorbed the red light of the moon and gave it back in greater beauty. Un-like Morelin, she had no red scales but instead lines like roots came down from her eyes and clung delicately all the way down her cheeks. She was slender like a flower in spring, but Morelin could feel the strength of the trees in her. A wind rose around Morelin and seemed to flutter around Lucarnia. He watched as a smile crept onto her lips. She sang again and a beautiful red flower bloomed. Her gaze fell suddenly towards him, “Come out fair lord and bask in the light. Umoria will soon come across the glade and their light will mix. Come and see the flowers, you are upsetting the trees.” Nervously Morelin stepped into the glade. He bowed slightly; his hand pressed against his forehead. She did the same, “Hail lord of the Ilma.” Her eyes went to the silver flower pin on his shoulder, “You are of the house of Mina?” Morelin stared into her piercing green eyes that seemed so strange from the golden irises he was used to, “I am Morelin Diactra.” He said in a shaking voice, “From the town of Minagrin.” “It is a pleasure.” She said as she turned back towards the flowers. “You must be Lucarnia Bitaran, daughter of the wood king.” She nodded and Morelin stepped closer to her and as he did, Umoria moved across the sky and gave its silver light to the clearing and it mingled, as she had said, with the light of Aradtoria. “Tell me wood daughter, how did you know I was here?” He asked. “You said it in the name you give me. We who live in the wood, hear the trees and many do not like the hearts of the Ilma, who chop them down for their machines of war.” She laughed like it was some joke, but Morelin hesitantly looked towards the trees, his power reaching out to silence the wind that blew through them. His eyes then went down to the flower, “This is livora.” He said, “That grows only on the lands where the kin of Drage have lived.”
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He walked again the cramped halls of his ship, down the elevators until he reached the main launch platform. Dropships and fighter crafts, all shaped like birds, sat dormant in the hall. Murka’s in their brown uniforms were lined up orderly, their one-handed rifles hanging at their side. These were weapons for the weak. He was already powerful for one of the Graul, but his new power made him a rival to the gods themselves. Urgarak held his head high as a ship sped into the hold, slender and ornate, a jewel of their craft but not equipped for battle. It landed with a dull thud and from it stepped a Graul like Urgarak, though his skin was covered in less red scales than the general’s. Lucast’s hooked from his jaw and levelled out either side of his face. His golden chest piece was ceremonial, but everything else was loose fitting as though he expected a battle. “You will leave now Urgarak.” Lucast ordered without any of the customary formalities, “Forget this venomous dream of you and your kin.” Urgarak’s arms raised in feigned surrender, “And where is Ilmgral’s fleet to stop me or do they stand by the judgement that Thomas Lita is a criminal, like these earthlings harbouring him.” The silence told him all that he needed to know, “I have an army Ambassador.” Lucast looked at the Murka’s, “Of slaves.” “They were freed from bondage when they joined our cause, slavery is a product of your profession, not mine.” Lucast lifted his arms and the metal armour around the Murka’s began to constrict, not enough to hurt them just to make them uncomfortable, “They still wear metal as our slaves did of old. Is that so they cannot argue against you Urgarak?” “They do not fear me.” Urgarak took a step forward, “They fear the power I possess.” His arm shot outwards and from his fingers black smoke charged. Lucast’s eyes widened in fear and a shield of fire burst out of his hands and met with the smoke which ignited, screaming as it did. When it subsided, Lucast breathed heavily, strained from that small encounter with the Darkness, “The use of that weapon is illegal.” “As you can see Ambassador.” Urgarak’s eyes began to leak the same dark smoke that had charged at Lucast, “My power has outgrown yours. The curse of Scaraden runs through my veins and soon Thomas Lita will succumb to the darkness that I weild.” Urgarak moved with frightening speed and darkness charged for Lucast whose only defence was to throw fire as a shield. With a duck he charged back onto his ships and fired up the engines. Urgarak felt the metal of the ship and tried to hold it but the thrusters ripped it from his control, “FOOL.” Urgarak barked as the craft went for the exit, “Let him go, if I cannot strip his mind from his body then he must live.”
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