Author's Note: A quasi-novelization of Seiken Densetsu 3. Or, perhaps more accurately, a remake of SD3 in story format. There was so much potential for character development, I just couldn't resist! Oh and just so you know - I'm giving myself a great deal of liberty with plot structure and progression.

-

Tremors of Fate

Chapter 1

A Guild for a Kingdom

-

The night was silent except for the sound of running footsteps muffled by sand. Two armored men and a man-sized feline were led by a lavender-haired man across the sands of the Navarre Desert. The wind was constant and would hide their tracks, and their dark clothing made them difficult to spot in the moonless night. The air shivered from lack of sun, but Hawk didn't even feel the cold. He was too delirious with the exhilaration of heisting one of the wealthiest and most corrupt men of Sultan.

-

"THIEF!!"

Like sand-dusted beasts awakening from their slumber, the windows of the squat buildings neighboring the rich merchant's house lit up with the flames of oil lamps. A guard's whistle sounded shrilly through the night air.

On the threshold between the bedroom and the balcony, a young man in a bronze tunic slung a heavy sack over his shoulder. "This should keep us fed for, oh, a good two months or so," he said, addressing a man in the bedroom whose face was nearly as round as his belly. The thief picked up a gold piece that had fallen to the floor, spun it in the air, and caught it. "Thanks a million."

"You'll hang for this," the sheik huffed, climbing half-in and half-out of bed, trying to be intimidating but afraid to approach the thief. "You hear that, thief? I'm a powerful man, and I will have you hang."

To his surprise, the young man burst out laughing. "Thief? That's rich. What about the 'gifts' that the artisans pay you just to operate in the city? Or maybe the extra bit of pocket money that the vizier slips you under the table? If I'm a thief, what does that make you?"

The man's face, already a dark mahogany tinged with pink, turned an even darker shade of maroon. "You little—you'll pay—" he blubbered before finally bellowing, "Thief!! Guards! There's a thief in my room!"

By this time, the thief had crossed the balcony and was perched on top of the wall. "Takes one to know one!" he yelled back, and leaped.

He broke his fall with a somersault, making sure to keep a tight grip on the sack. Barely even pausing to scan the shadows, he darted into a side street where two men were waiting, their faces wrapped in dark cloth like nomads. Hawk wordlessly handed over the sack to one of the ninjas, and they hurried through the alleys for the eastern city gate.

To Hawk's relief, the guards at the gate were slumped against to each other by a pile of barrels. A humanoid feline was crouched next to them, rummaging through a large burlap bag. "Good work, Nikita," Hawk whispered, but the blue-gray cat remained focused on his task. "Nikita?"

Nikita produced two gourd flasks and took a swig from one. He grimaced. "No wonder this wine was so cheap. Tastes like horse piss." Then he dribbled some wine on the guards' uniforms and set the gourds next to them. "The finishing touch," he said proudly.

Just then, there was a clamor of whistles and shouts down the main road. "Time to run," Hawk said, and the four of them escaped into the desert night, swallowed up by the darkness.

-

The Navarre sand fortress had once been a natural network of caves that had formed in the mesas of the Navarre desert. The caves had been carved out over the eons by a lake that drained through the porous rock when the desert was still a lush forest. But when the God-beasts ravaged the land, the forest began to die from Xan Bie's withering touch. The lake dried out and left behind its channels in the hollowed-out rock. Eventually the God-beasts were sealed away by the Mana Goddess, but by then, the desert had completely consumed the forest and the entire southeastern part of the continent Eztia.

Thousands of years later, man colonized the desert, kept alive by the oases that had sprung up where the Goddess had treaded. However, resources were so sparse and so precious that those who controlled them learned to use them for profit and personal gain. A wise man who had grown tired of the corruption led a band of followers to the desert to seek enlightenment and refuge. They discovered the hidden network of caves and fashioned it to their liking. They spent years in meditation and practicing self-discipline. The wise man learned the art of controlling fire with his spirit, and his power became so great that he became known as the Flame Khan. Then one day, the Flame Khan had a vision that revealing to him that the rulers of Sultan were beyond redemption and he was instructed to destroy them—not by force, but by the very means they used to destroy others. Thus, the Thieves' Guild of the Navarre Desert was born.

That was over five-hundred years ago. A new Flame Khan was appointed by the old one when he became too feeble to continue his leadership. The members of the guild were either born into it or drawn to its cause, which now included a little self-indulgence when they could afford it—which was more often than not. Some simply liked the adventure, others sought to execute their own brand of justice. But one thing they had in common was their hatred and disdain for the rulers of Sultan and monarchy in general. Which was why Hawk was so perplexed at Flamekhan's behavior when he returned.

As Hawk displayed his spoils in the reception hall, the khan said nothing and only stared at him with glassy eyes. Next to him was Isabella, his advisor, a mysterious woman who wrapped herself in purple silk. Her presence always made Hawk tread cautiously. No one really knew who she was or where she had come from, except that she was the princess of a distant kingdom who had been exiled and sold as a slave in Sultan. Six months ago, Navarre ninjas Bill and Ben rescued her from the clutches of the slavetrader who had kept her for his own pleasure. Since then, she had been involved herself in planning the raids on Sultan, and her tactics had been so shrewd that Flamekhan eventually sought her counsel in everything—including, rumor had it, what went on behind his bedroom doors. Her influence could be felt in every decision he made. So it was no surprise when Hawk found her reclining next to Flamekhan.

What surprised him was what came next. "I have an announcement to make," Isabella said. "Flamekhan has declared that the Thieves' Guild of the Navarre Desert will now be known as the Kingdom of Navarre. Every man who can handle a blade is a soldier of Lord Flamekhan's royal army. Our first mission is to invade the neighboring Kingdom of Rolante and obtain the power of their Mana Stone."

Only then did Hawk realize that there was an unusual number of thieves and ninjas in the reception hall. "What the he—" he began to say, but was interrupted by Isabella.

"Generals," she said crisply, "we will convene in the meeting room to discuss our strategy."

The hall emptied, and Hawk was left alone with a sack full of gold and a head full of questions.

-

From a window high in the mesa, Hawk gazed out at the dark, silent desert. Faint light from the windows below softly illuminated the steppes, and he could just make out the dark, huddled shapes of the watchguards. Guards who were now soldiers in the army of a new kingdom. A kingdom that was little more than a band of thieves who existed solely to undermine the rulers around them. It was absurd.

Someone padded up the stairs behind him, and he caught the scent of agave flowers. Jessica. Flamekhan's daughter and his best friend's sister. She was two years younger than his twenty, and it seemed that only yesterday she was a girl who threaded flowers in her hair and giggled with the girls who had grown up with her. Now she was on the brink of womanhood, and Hawk had begun to notice her. She still wore flowers in her hair, delicate white blossoms on deep blue tresses, and the hue of her similarly blue dress set off the bronze of her skin. A pendant, an aquamarine set in silver, glittered from around her neck. When they were younger, he had tolerated her presence when he and Eagle went about making mischief—although Eagle, being the older brother, frequently resented it. In recent days, though, he looked forward to seeing her. When she wasn't around, he sometimes even missed her.

"Is something on your mind, Hawk?" she asked, coming to his side.

Hawk sighed. Though her presence normally calmed him—was that her effect on him, then?—nothing could settle his uneasy mood. "The same thing that's one everyone's mind," he said. "I don't understand it, Jessica. Flamekhan has always hated kings and kingdoms. Why would he declare us a kingdom all of a sudden? That's…that's insane."

But instead of sympathizing with him, Jessica frowned. "Please, Hawk, don't talk about my father that way."

Oops. However logical his argument, she probably didn't like hearing her father criticized so harshly. "Well, what do you think?" he said a little less heatedly. "It doesn't make sense. How long has he been planning this for?"

Jessica shook her head. "I don't know. This is the first I've heard of it. But he must have his reasons. We can't hide in the desert forever."

"But the desert is our home. Your home. We've lived here for centuries, and we're the only thing standing in the way between the rulers of Sultan and the complete corruption of Eztia. And now Flamekhan wants to invade Rolante? What is he thinking?"

"I don't know," Jessica said, wringing her hands, clearly distraught. "I'm sure father has a good reason for this. I mean, being a kingdom won't be as exciting as being a guild, but at least we'll be able to live like normal people. I'll know what it's like to grow up like a normal girl."

More frustrating than the khan's illogical decision was his daughter's defense of his illogical decision. His daughter, who should know him better than anyone! How could she possibly be so accepting? And what of Isabella, who had captured her father's attention from the start? There was nothing right about any of this. For some reason, the cool blue gleam of Jessica's necklace irritated Hawk. Then he remembered. Isabella had given it to her for her eighteenth birthday. "You're just excited about becoming a princess, aren't you?" he said coldly before he could stop himself.

Jessica looked as though she had been slapped. The next thing he saw was the flat of her hand and his head snapped back with the force of the blow. She ran down the stairs, leaving Hawk to rub his face and regret ever opening his mouth. Of course she believed in the khan. He was her father. Hawk had no right to try to make her agree with him. He started to hurry after her, to apologize, but halted in the middle of the stairs. No, he should give her time to cool off, especially when he himself could not be calm about this. He had to find Eagle. Her brother was older than either of them and much less naïve than his sister. Maybe Eagle knew what was going on.

As Hawk searched the fortress, he passed one of Jessica's tutors, a graying man in a green tunic. "I saw Jessica run to her room. She was crying," the man said. His stern look was accusing: You made her cry, didn't you? "You stay away from her, Hawk."

"I'm looking for Eagle," he said, just calmly enough and sidestepping the man's insinuation. "Do you know where he might be?"

"I do not," the tutor replied curtly. "Now, if you will excuse me."

Hawk made his way to the east end of the fortress and knocked on Eagle's door. One of the servants mentioned seeing Eagle enter his room half an hour ago. With any luck, he would still be there.

A man with long blond hair gathered at the nape of his neck answered the door. "Hawk—" he began.

Hawk grabbed him by the shoulders. "Eagle, you have to tell me what's going on. The Flame Khan has gone mad!"

Eagle thoughtfully regarded his friend. "So I'm not the only one who thinks something's not right. I'm glad you came by, Hawk. No one else seems bothered by my father's actions."

Hawk was overcome with relief. At last, someone who would listen, someone who might have answers. Eagle waved him inside and shut the door. As soon as the latch clicked, Hawk said, "Do you think it's her?"

Both men knew that "her" could only mean one person: Isabella. "Ever since she arrived, things have been changing," Eagle said slowly. "The raids have become more risky. We've been targeting more artifacts and infiltrating higher security houses and strongholds. But father was still the same person. He was still anti-Sultan and anti-monarchy. Today, though…he's been…different."

Hawk nodded. "When I was giving my report, he seemed different as well. Confused. Almost…not quite there. And Isabella was the one who did all the talking. Do you think…?"

Eagle cursed and angrily slammed his fist against the wall. "Dammit! I knew that harlot was going to be trouble the moment she set foot in the fortress. I bet she's one of those witches from Altena. We've got to stop her, and warn father."

The two friends set off in search of the khan, but neither he nor Isabella was anywhere to be found. There was one place they had not looked, however.

"Flamekhan? He retired to his chambers—with Isabella," one guard informed them. "I wouldn't disturb them if I were you."

The thieves exchanged glances, and Eagle said, "I need to talk to him immediately. It's important."

The guard looked uncertain, but he was unable to deny the Flame Khan's son. He moved to open the door, but to his relief, Eagle stopped him. "I'll handle it. Stay out here."

He and Hawk stepped quietly into the antechamber. The door to the main bedchamber was slightly ajar. They heard voices, low and soft, male and female. They moved closer to the door and peered inside.

The view of the room was not very good from where they stood. The large canopied bed was off to the side, its drapes and curtains obscuring a sizable section of the room. Hawk could see the folds of Isabella's silk skirts on the far side of the bed where she was sitting. Only Flamekhan's sandaled feet were visible from behind the drapery. The voices whispered and laughed. There was a chill to the air despite the glowing fireplace. Hawk shivered. Did the khan always keep his room so cold?

Isabella rose from the bed, but the drapes still hid her face from view. She seemed to be talking to Flamekhan, who still had not moved. They could hear her a little better, but Flamekhan's voice remained indistinct and was unusually deep.

"...going according to…Rolante tomorrow," Isabella said, fragments of sentences drifting to her unseen listeners. "…lowered the barrier…waiting for so long…our revenge…"

Hawk frowned. Something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Why was the Flame Khan just lying there? Why the need to whisper? And what was this talk of revenge?

Why was the room was so cold?

Isabella moved back and a figure clad in dark robes stepped into view. It wore a flowing cape so black that it seemed to suck the light out of the room. Its hands were white claws and the face was pale like the belly of something that had never been touched by the light of day. Red-rimmed eyes were set so deep in its gaunt face that they almost looked sunken.

Before Hawk could react, Eagle rushed to confront Isabella. "What sorcery is this?" he demanded. "Bewitching my father and summoning demons into our home!" With a sharp sound of steel, Eagle drew his sword. "The pleasure of taking that head off your shoulders will be mine alone," he said grimly.

The man in the cape—Hawk had decided it was a man, after all—only smirked, a wrinkling of his paper-thin skin. "I trust you can handle this on your own, hmm?"

Isabella sniffed. "These children? Easier than trampling an insect."

"Do not disappoint me," the man said. A column of smoke suddenly erupted from the ground, and he was gone.

Full of rage, Eagle charged Isabella with his sword, but when she raised her hand, he suddenly stopped short. Hawk, who had drawn his own knives, hesitated. "Eagle?"

Eagle did not answer. Isabella began to chant, a melodic string of syllables that Hawk could not comprehend. The sound of it was beautiful, but a knife began to twist itself uneasily in his gut. His friend's shoulders became broader as his features coarsened—his long, regal nose flattened and his brow began to protrude, a bony ridge overshadowing his eyes.

"Hawk," Eagle struggled to say, "Stay…away…" Fingernails turned into claws, and his skin took on a dusky blue hue.

"Eagle, what's happening to you?" Hawk said, horrified.

"Get away…from…me," Eagle almost growled. "Get out…NOW!"

Snarling, Eagle leapt and viciously slashed at him. Hawk tumbled out of the way and crouched in the corner. "Eagle, get a hold of yourself! That bitch cast a spell on you!"

But Eagle would not listen. With the single-mindedness of an enraged beast, he continued to attack his friend. Hawk dodged his sword, but not as quickly as he would have liked. Eagle's transformation made him quicker and more agile, and he swung his sword around like it weighed nothing at all. Soon dodging was no longer adequate; Hawk was tiring from the acrobatics and ended up being forced to parry Eagle's blows.

Eagle made a slash at his knees, which Hawk barely caught at the tip of his knife. A shudder went through the blade and up Hawk's arm, and the impact forced Hawk to drop the knife. He saw Eagle raise his sword for another go and somersaulted out of the way.

I can't keep this up forever, he thought, trying to shake the feeling back into his hand. The only way to stop this is to go for the source. Hawk ran around the bed and lunged for Isabella. He grabbed her by the neck and pointed the tip of his remaining knife at her chin. "If you don't change him back," he said, breathing heavily from exertion, "If you don't change him back, I'll kill you."

"I wouldn't if I were you," she said calmly. Too calmly. Her eyes moved to the bed, and Hawk followed her gaze. In her hand was a knife whose blade rested on the neck of the unconscious khan. Hawk's knife, the one he dropped. How had she retrieved it so quickly?

"If you kill me, the blame of both our deaths will be upon you. If you survive." Her eyes narrowed at something past his shoulder. "Which it doesn't seem you will."

Too late, Hawk realized that by cornering Isabella, he had also backed himself into a corner. He threw himself against the wall in an attempt to move out of Eagle's path, but the edge of the sword sliced through his tunic, gashing his chest. It was a superficial wound, but as blood began to soak his shirt, Hawk knew he could not sustain many more without losing too much blood. He caught Eagle's next blow where the blade of his knife met the hilt. It took every ounce of strength he had to keep Eagle at bay. The fiend in his friend's clothing opened its jaws and roared, and in that moment, Hawk realized that this was not Eagle. Eagle was gone, and he was not coming back. Isabella was not going to bring him back. Hawk was left with little choice—to kill or be killed. Which was what Isabella had intended from the beginning.

With one hand, Hawk wrapped his hand around Eagle's blade, ignoring the pain as the razor-sharp edge sliced into his palm. The blade dug deeper as pushed the sword back and whipped his knife free. "Eagle…forgive me," he whispered, and plunged his knife deep into Eagle's belly.

The fiend staggered and gasped, a strangled sound that made gooseflesh rise on Hawk's arms. It yanked the knife out and a spot of red appeared on its green shirt, which soon became soaked with crimson. Its body seemed to grow smaller, and suddenly it was human again—it was Eagle again.

"Eagle!" Hawk cried as his friend slumped to the floor.

Eagle coughed, and blood welled up from his mouth. He saw Hawk and smiled weakly. "You should have…run…away…but…as always…you never…listen…to me…"

"Don't talk," Hawk said anxiously. "We'll get you to a healer. You'll be all right."

"That's what you think," said a cool female voice.

Isabella! Hawk had nearly forgotten about her. "After I take care of you," he growled, knife in hand.

She began chanting again, but Hawk was already on his feet. He was not going to let her get away with it this time. To his surprise, however, a flame appeared in her hand. It streamed through the air and he quickly ducked out of the way. When Eagle cried out, Hawk realized too late that it had not been meant for him. Eagle clawed at his chest, the tendons of his neck taught with the strain of internal agony. His body stiffened and shuddered as it racked with pain before finally falling limp.

"Eagle!" Hawk said desperately. He shook his friend's shoulders, but Eagle remained still. "Eagle!!"

The double doors to the bedchamber burst open, and Hawk found himself face-to-face with several spear points. Isabella, who had fallen to the floor, was helped to her feet by one of the guards. "Thank the Goddess that you arrived in time," she said breathlessly, clinging to the guard for support. "This lout here, this traitor, tried to assassinate us from the shadows. When Eagle found out he was a Sultan spy, he tried to kill us all. Eagle died trying to protect us."

The captain of the guard, a burly man with a copper beard, looked long and hard at Hawk. He had trained Hawk in the arts thievery and ninjustu, and now his student was crouched before him, covered in the blood of a dead man. Finally, he said, "The Kingdom of Navarre has no tolerance for spies, much less murderers."

"But—but I didn't kill him!" Hawk protested heatedly.

A tall blond guard—Martel, who had been Hawk's sparring buddy—jutted the point of his spear uncomfortably under Hawk's chin. "Do you take us for fools, traitor? We may have been blind to your dealings, but anyone can see that you have murdered the man who considered you his closest friend."

Hawk grabbed the end of the spear and pushed it away. "I can tell you exactly what happened if you'll just listen to me—"

But Hawk's presumptuous action made Martel incensed. Whirling his spear around, he shoved the butt into Hawk's chest. "Silence, traitor!" he boomed.

There was a flash of pain as the spear dug into Hawk's injured chest, and the last thing Hawk remembered before passing out was his head smacking hard against the cold, hard floor.