CHAPTER 5

DISAPPEARANCE

When Zaor and I awoke we found ourselves alone in a large dark metal cell. It was more like an animal cage. We were completely enclosed by metal walls on all sides with the only opening being a small circle above us which allowed air for us to breathe and a small amount of light that barely allowed vision in the utter gloom.

Across from me and Zaor we were surprised to suddenly notice that another prisoner lay upon the floor, obviously human, and a green-skinned man. He appeared to be fast asleep, but I motioned to Zaor to be wary for appearances could be deceiving. Who knew what new enemies we might meet in a place like this? When I walked over to the man, he suddenly moved and seeing us—his cell mates—arose and gave us a friendly smile and a hardy greeting.

“Welcome to my prison, friends,” the green man said with a grim laugh.

“Welcome, indeed,” I said looking him over carefully. He was young, and obviously a warrior, and he also appeared to be a nobleman of some type. He was handsome and rugged, and a fighter by the looks of him. It seemed he had been waiting for us to awake since we had been abducted and thrown into this cell unconscious. He did not appear belligerent at all, and as we were all prisoners here I deemed it wise for us to cooperate and pool our resources to work together to effect an escape. For escape was always uppermost in my mind. Escape and reunion with my beloved Sirah. In the meantime I wondered what had happened to us, just how much time had passed since Zaor and I had been taken from my apartments in Tarcos—and I wondered where we were now.

“So?” the man asked me, “You have both finally regained consciousness. Now tell me who you are? And why are you here?”

“That is a good question, one I might well ask you. Tell me, friend, who might you be?” Zaor countered cautiously. “I think you should be the one answering the questions, after all we were here first. Where are we exactly, and what is going on here?”

“So be it. I, my fellow prisoner friends, am called Shamar. I am king of the tiny but proud city-state of Keva,” he said boldly. “Perhaps you have heard of my city?”

“No,” Zaor said carefully, dubiously. “I think not.”

I also shook my head for I had never heard of the place either. “That is good,” Shamar nodded happily, then he said with a smile, “that is very good that you have never heard of Keva. But not good enough apparently, for someone has obviously heard of Keva, since those who hold us here have expended considerable time and energy to have me tracked down and captured. Hence I am here now as a captive. And now, you two are here captives as well. So tell me, friends, who might you two be?” Zaor and I introduced ourselves.

“Jon Kirk? Well, now that is interesting,” Shamar said softly. “Of course we in Keva have all heard about you and your great deeds.”

I nodded curtly, but kept my humility in check.

“And what about me?” Zaor asked his feathers obviously a bit ruffled by not being included in our cell mate’s statement.

“You? No, not so much, my friend,” Shamar stated flatly and Zaor couldn’t help but look a bit deflated. Then the Kevan laughed uproariously and quickly added, “I am just joking, of course! Who has not heard the name of the valiant General Zaor!”

“That’s better!” Zaor said nodding with obvious satisfaction approvingly. “Hear that, Jon Kirk.”

“The valiant General Zaor!” I repeated with a smile to my companion. “That is certainly true but I think our new friend is playing with us.”

“I was. I apologize, my friends,” Shamar stated seriously, then he offered a sly grin, “but it was just too much fun for me to resist. The long look on your face was just priceless, General Zaor.”

“Plain Zaor is fine with me.”

“My friend is a humble man. Though a valiant warrior, he also has a good sense of humor,” I stated with a wry grin.

“That is good, Jon Kirk, for we shall need a good sense of humor now, for we are in a most serious and deep mess.”

I nodded, knowing the young man spoke truthfully, but wondering exactly what he meant. All I know is that I had a growing fear I might never see my beloved Sirah again. That would never do. I steeled myself and banished all negative thoughts from my mind to concentrate on the task at hand. I was a fighting man. I still lived. With life there is always hope.

As we spoke among ourselves we found out this mysterious Kevan, Shamar, had heard of us of course, but only tangentially for he explained that the Kevan people did not overly concern themselves with the events of the outer world of Ares. I found this rather bizarre. He did tell us he was happy to hear of our war which had caused the defeat of the hated Winged-men.

“It is good the Zarans are defeated, but I am afraid they are not entirely finished. Too many remain in hiding and they are even more dangerous now. I had a brief run-in with them myself lately, until our mysterious captors stepped in and killed them. Killed them most effectively, I might add.”

“Yes, they are still a danger,” I admitted.

Shamar continued, “I have noticed a severe desperation in them of late, but also an expansion of their activities. Something has them fearful, frantic, and that is an emotion you never see in these winged fiends. They are organizing for something. They are always so overconfident. It is good you have brought war to them and a long-needed defeat, I applaud your victory, I hope it proves to be the first of many.”

I nodded acknowledging his words, then asked, “So, Shamar, tell me, where exactly are we? Do you have any idea what or where this place might be?”

Shamar nodded thoughtfully, “Actually I do. I believe we are a airship of some type—almost certainly an invisible airship— and we are being held by the Blues—a blue-skinned race of Ares people who have somehow harnessed the secret of invisibility.”

That was certainly a mountain of new information for us to sift through.

Zaor laughed dubiously at that, but his eyes looked around him in our cell suspiciously. “An invisible airship—invisible men! And Blue men at that! It belies imagination!”

“Yes it does, my friend,” Shamar stated simply. “However, it is all true, I am certain of it.”

“Then we have a very big problem, and it complicates matters for us quite a bit,” I said softly, thinking of how Zoar and I had been taken captive—by invisible men! And as my voice quickly died away it was replaced by a deep grim silence as the three of us thought through our problem now so alone in our captivity.

* * * *

Faraway, hidden in the wild lands of Ares, survivors and remnants of the Winged-men army had now come together under a powerful new leader. Grusus, was an imposing winged monster who had just proclaimed himself king of the remnant of the Zaran nation upon the planet Ares. Though he never said where he had come from, some thought he had lately made the trip from ancient Zar itself with a small group of loyal retainers and warriors, or at least that was the rumor. His closest intimates would speak nothing of his origins, nor a word about the strange blue-skinned nobleman who was said to be the ambassador of some new secret ally.

Grusus told all the Zarans that his mission was to take the lost cities back from the Greens, and that these cities had always belonged to the Zarans and would belong to them once again. He was a powerful being, a primal force, full of hate and revenge and he extolled those actions to the Zarans against the Green ‘cattle.’ He wanted vengeance and he had the support of all the winged monsters in that desire for bloody revenge.

“We will kill them all!” Grusus demanded, and instantly upon his order one thousand green prisoners from the small city of Tor—a city greatly outnumbered which had recently lost their battle with the winged fiends—were now helpless captives of the Winged-men. Grusus called for these green captives to be lined up. They were already bound and stood weaponless and helpless. Now facing each helpless bound Toran prisoner was a lean and hungry winged monster with his sword out, ready for the order from his master, Grusus, to create massive bloody mayhem. They were hungry for food and now food was within their grasp. They would take it!

Grusus suddenly barked out a loud order and instantly one thousand swords lopped off one thousand Toran heads. It was swift and bloody slaughter. Mere butchery. The green heads fell to the ground and Zaran voices rang out with rapid praise and applause, mixed with blood-lust and evil laughter. That laughter was augmented by Grusus and his many officers and minions. Even the mysterious blue-skinned nobleman seemed to enjoy the bloody slaughter.

Of the five thousand winged fighters present that day in the city of Tor, all of them were overjoyed with the blood feast their new king had caused to come to pass for them. Grusus had provided well and proved a good leader. The Winged-men had retaken the city of Tor, the mother city of the Toran people, and the last of the green-skinned prisoners from that city was now dead. Now they would furnish food for the Zaran masters for many days. It was a good victory and would prove a delicious feast.

“Great and Noble Grusus, thanks to you there will be much happy feasting among the flyers tonight,” one winged warrior officer said to his king. “It has been too long since we have tasted the sweet flesh of the green-skinned cattle. The warriors are hungry for more such fine feasts of fresh meat.”

“They shall have all they can eat,” Grusus proclaimed loudly.

“Soon all the Greens will know our wrath!”

* * * *

It had been days since Jon Kirk and Zaor’s disappearance. Everyone in the palace, and throughout the Green Empire capital city of Tarcos had grown sullen and grey in mood at the news of the mysterious loss of their beloved Emperor, and their gallant General. The grim news had spread throughout the city like a plague.

No one was more saddened by this reality than the lovely Lady Sirah, Jon Kirk’s beloved wife and Empress of the Green Empire. She had not only lost her lover, but her husband and her best friend. Jon Kirk was the man she respected most in the world and now he had been taken from her in some mysterious abduction that made absolutely no sense. There seemed no valid reason for it. There had been no ransom demand, nor any news of a show trail or execution—that last part was a blessing, at least. Nevertheless, the event had her and all those in the palace reeling in fear and shock. And too many unanswered questions. The not-knowing was slow torture. She had also lost her beloved brother, Zaor, who had disappeared as mysteriously as had her husband. It was all most strange, as if the very ground had opened up and swallowed the two men.

Lady Sirah prayed both men were not lost to her forever—that they still lived. For Jon Kirk always told her that as long there is life, anything can be possible. But was Jon Kirk even alive? All that remained to Sirah was her hope in the prowess of these two great warriors who always seemed to get themselves out of any dangerous situation as they had in the past. She hoped and preyed both men still lived, for with life anything is truly possible.

First Minister Sahn Jor was perplexed and angry because his search for the Emperor and his general had uncovered absolutely nothing. It was most unusual. Although all evidence seemed to point to the fact that Jon Kirk and Zaor had been abducted, Sahn Jor could not imagine by whom or for what reason. No Winged-men seemed involved in this incident. There was no evidence of them, nor of the treachery by old enemies such as King Tob, Crooch or Vakon. Sahn Jor could not figure it. No note or letter had been left behind indicating any reason for the abduction, nor any demand for a ransom. In fact there been no subsequent contact at all from the captors of the two men. The leader of The Guild of Kidnappers and Assassins had told Sahn Jor that none of their members had been involved in the abduction. He believed the man upon this subject, for his spy network told him the same thing. This entire situation was most perplexing to the always logical and practical Sahn Jor.

The First Minister did not believe it possible that the few ragged hunted remnants of the Winged-men could organize such a venture, nor would they keep silent if they had been the instigators of such an action. They would let the world know of their ghastly act. So Sahn Jor considered other ideas in his vastly roaming thoughts. With his two best friends gone the reins of government had now gone to Empress Sirah—and she had passed the daily duties of administration down to him—for she knew he was a man who could be trusted to get to the truth of what had happened and somehow find a way to bring both men back home alive.

Now First Minister Sahn Jor found himself to be the de facto leader of the Green Empire, an empire that found itself on the edge of hysteria that its popular leader was missing and that some new mysterious menace had seemingly shown itself—stronger and bolder than any previous enemy. Then as if to confirm this, new rumors of a dire massacre at Tor had also reached him and were being spread around the city to devastating effect upon the populace. The common people were full of fear at the rumors of the return of the winged demons under what was said to be a new and even more brutal leader who was nothing more than a butcher. Some of the people had now seemed to have transformed into helpless shivering lambs who were now lost without a shepherd—with the wolf at the door. This was an Earther expression Jon Kirk had told Sahn Jor about once, and it seemed to fit here well. He assumed a wolf was much like a winged demon on the hunt. Sahn Jor would do his best to desperately become that shepherd and hold together the rival factions of Jon Kirk’s empire. But he was no Jon Kirk.

And always the question nagged at him. Where was Jon Kirk? And Zaor?

Sahn Jor soon received the vexing news from scouts that a large force of Winged-men had been spotted and was fast approaching the ancient walled city of Scresa. If that newly liberated city of the Greens fell to the winged enemy, then Tarcos could be next. Already citizens were deserting the capital. Sahn Jor knew the small force in Scresa did not have enough men, nor the military expertise to hold the city if under a sustained attack or siege. Nor did Sahn Jor have extra warriors available to send help. He was afraid that desperation would soon enter the minds of the defenders of the city and that a mood of doom and desertion might became the rule and not the exception among the populace and army. He heard that soon what had begun as an orderly withdrawal from that second city of the newly formed Green Empire, rapidly turned into a full-fledged panic, and then route. Fearful news and rumors abounded that the winged devils were back in force and were worse than ever, out for bloody revenge, and that they were feasting upon the green people of Ares even now.

It was not soon after that when more information came to Sahn Jor’s ears of a revolt in Scresa. After murdering the imperial governor for what the people felt was his over exuberant defense of the city by drafting all males into the army, a wily officer named On-Van took command. Instead of preparing a strong defense for the city and the people, it was said he was prepared to have his troops leave the city and take as many warriors as he could muster with him. It was thought he would do so soon, leaving the people to fend for themselves.

Sahn Jor could not believe this bad news and was ashamed to hear that army troops had deserted the city and the populace. They would pay for that when the time was right. However, now he had other matters on his mind even more serious.

By the time the Winged-men reached the walled city of Scresa it was practically undefended, there was a small contingent of loyal troops left, accompanied by thousands of helpless old men and women who had been left there to fend for themselves. These people did not stand a chance and when the winged monsters attacked, though they all fought valiantly and as best they could, they were easily cut down or taken captive. They had barely put up any serious opposition, but those that still lived were taken captive. Many others fought and died rather than surrender against their will to their savage attackers. For those that survived as captives, it was feared that soon many of them would become the main dish on the menu at a lavish and bloody Zaran victory feast.

When First Minister Sahn Jor learned the details of the fall of Scresa and the treachery and cowardice of the traitorous officer On-Van, he grew grim and pale with rage. Was there no honor any longer among the officers posted in the far off cities? He immediately put a price on the head of On-Van and any of the deserters who were found with him. They were now listed as wanted men and considered bandits and criminals, in addition to cowardly deserters. However, he did not have the men to spare to search them out and capture them. That would have to wait for later. In the future. If there was a future.

Right now Sahn Jor wondered what would befall the people of Tarcos when the winged menace drew closer to his own beloved city. He shook his head sadly, then rose to his full height and prepared to address the generals and officers who were assembled in the massive audience chamber of the royal palace of Tarcos.

“Nobles and officers of the Green Empire of Ares,” he began forcefully, projecting his voice as he had heard Jon Kirk do in important speeches. “I am afraid that the next week will decide whether our Green Empire lives or dies. We are in a dire situation with our noble emperor, Jon Kirk, and heroic general, Zaor, missing and presumed lost. I have no idea where they are, why they were taken, nor if we will ever see them again. This terrible news saddens us all. Pray for them, but pray for us as well, and our beloved city of Tarcos. While we desperately need the leadership of our emperor, we will persevere without him if we must. He would wish us to do so. So we will make our last stronghold here at Tarcos. Let us be brave in the manner of Emperor Jon Kirk and let us fight hard to be victorious!”

Most of those there who heard Sahn Jor’s words nodded or cheered, but some others remained silent and skeptical. Too many green leaders did not feel very optimistic or hopeful about the future.

The people of Tarcos and the other cities all throughout the empire created by Jon Kirk were seething with anger at the rumors that came to them of the murders done to the people at Tor, and then days later at Scresa, all by a massive new winged enemy force led by a monster named Grusus. Many people could not believe such depravity and brutality was possible—even by the Zarans. Other people just refused to admit it, since Tarcos was apparently the next target of the enemy and they just refused to face reality.

So most of the people of Tarcos felt that now they were in the crosshairs of a ravenous enemy and they were deeply fearful about what this meant to them and their families. The rumors of massacres by the Zaran Winged-men upon helpless prisoners and innocent civilians were still fresh in all their minds. They knew the enemy would only get bolder with such atrocities—the enemy actually called these blood-baths ‘victories’—and that meant an attack would come soon upon the capital, golden Tarcos itself.

The days passed and there was still no word of Jon Kirk or Zaor, and the spirit of the people of Tarcos began to slip. Where was their leader? Where was their valiant general? What had happened to them? What would happen to Tarcos and the people without them?

Lady Sirah kept up a brave front for her people and many say that it was her powerful spirit that held the city together in those dark days, but those that knew her well saw that her valiant heart was broken at the loss of her husband and brother.

Sahn Jor used all his considerable skills as a more than able administrator to step in and improve the defenses of the city, and to keep up morale, even as he withheld no effort to have his two friends found.

And still there was no word about the missing men as more days passed.

With Jon Kirk and Zaor seemingly lost, fear among the populace grew as the scouts reported in that they had discovered a large Winged-men horde now moving towards Tarcos. Sahn Jor eventually had to establish marshal law to stop rioting and looting as the people became desperate with fear at the threat. A steady stream of refugees were leaving the city by day and night in an effort to escape the coming battle and destruction in what they felt was a doomed city—while many more people from the countryside entered the city in panic for refuge behind the city walls. And while Sahn Jor ordered the city gates closed and guarded, people still found ways to escape the city or sneak inside.

However leaving the city was no escape at all from the coming enemy, even though those leaving Tarcos felt they would be safe by not being trapped in the city when the enemy came. That was the worst action for them to take. Once those luckless people found themselves on the wrong side of the city walls and at the mercy of the bloodthirsty enemy—even though they had feared being trapped inside the city when it was attacked—they suddenly realized they had made a tragic mistake. By then, of course, it was too late for them.

Sahn Jor gave orders to dissuade the people from leaving Tarcos, but he had bigger matters on his mind just then. He was determined to lead the fight against the attackers, to defend the city and fight the invaders to the death if need be. He knew his force was weakened without a strong leader like Jon Kirk. For the Emperor was the only man who could hold all the people and all the different factions together in one focused action and concentrated fight. With Jon Kirk and Zaor lost to them, wily Sahn Jor feared the empire might be lost. He desperately wondered which enemy had dealt them all such a grievous blow by taking away their two greatest leaders.