CHAPTER SEVEN: REBELLION IN THE FIRST DIMENSION

"We shall no longer be slaves!" came the cry of the young Atmos standing atop the platform. He had long brown hair that blew wildly in the wind, and deeply set, fanatic eyes.

"Too long have we suffered under the feet of the human oppressors! For fifty years, we have laboured under the rule of Lord Reinhard. Our lands destroyed. Our people enslaved. Our traditions outlawed. Our powers exploited. Today, we seek to reclaim what is ours!"

There was a cheer from the crowd below, and to show their agreement the Atmos all levitated themselves four feet from the ground, using their collective ability to control airwaves.

Hidden in the crowd, a young Atmos male, with no distinguishing features to set him apart from the rest of his people, carefully watched. He was not all he seemed to be.

As the speaker continued his diatribe against Lord Reinhard, his wicked soldiers, and his mechanical monsters, the male observed the rebel leader from his convenient disguise.

The leader's name was Phoebus Ares, and he had risen to power over his people in only a short time, aged barely twenty-five. A young man, an extremely charismatic speaker, and bold in battle to validate his rhetoric.

He's very convincing, the male—who was, when not disguised, a shapeshifter who went by the name of Lady Illusion—thought. I've heard a lot of this kind of rhetoric before, yet I almost feel I should rush to fight beside him and abandon my job.

She watched the speaker carefully, and noticed the amount of gew-gaws hanging from his outfit.

Sorcery? A few spells bound into the ornaments, to help him carry the crowd to his side?

It was then she noticed it, a red-coloured stone hanging around his neck, glinting in the bright desert light.

That actually looks genuine. An odd possession for an Atmos. And of some magical power too, I can even tell from this distance. This would bear investigation.

The crowd continued to cheer as Phoebus Ares continued his speech, caught up in the flow of his words and their desire for revenge.

-

From a distant cliff, another watcher was carefully examining the rebel leader. The watcher was cloaked in the traditional Atmos style, an expanse of dusty brown material covering both his features and the sword strapped to his side.

His name had been Marcus von Krupp since he was twelve years old, and he had been a vampire since his twenty-first birthday. He was the adopted son of the leaders of his Clan, and was loyal to their goals.

He, too, was impressed at the rhetoric, even more so as the leaders of his Clan preferred to avoid making elaborate speeches.

His purpose was to observe the rebel leader, to find out if Claude Dubreuil's information was correct.

Marcus had been silently cursing the slippery bastard since he'd arrived in this dimension, the godforsaken pile of sand that it was. Even tracking down and killing all of the Clan Dubreuil observers he could find—discreetly, of course—hadn't cheered him up.

He knew Lord Reinhard was interested in the dimension for the sake of the valuable minerals buried in its sands, and for the powers of its inhabitants, who had the ability to manipulate airwaves, but as far as he himself was concerned the whole sandy mess should have been left to its own devices.

It didn't take him long to notice the red-stained crystal around the rebel's neck, and noticed that the crystal grew a deeper crimson as the crowd became more excited.

Something in his blood thrilled at the sight, and he knew this was the legendary Blood Crystal, an artefact reputed to have been created by the oldest and first of vampires, the legendary Drakul. Its gift was control, an ancient vampiric Gift that enabled them to feed on their mortal prey with ease. In latter times that had become the specialty of Clan Dubreuil, the von Krupps favouring sword-to-sword combat and Mr Wang preferring to focus on the intrigue of his underworld. All three Clans, though, had been forced into the shadows by anti-vampire strictures in all dimensions; Marcus knew that in the hands of vampires once again, the Blood Crystal could mean the beginning of a new era for his people.

Marcus settled down to watch and wait, waiting for the Blood Crystal to gain strength from the devotion of these Atmos.

Sheep. All sheep. It is ours to rule, by strength and by blood.

-

Another man in the crowd of Atmos watched, a grey-haired man carrying a walking stick, looking even older than his years, and did not like what he saw.

Master Remus, who had travelled to many dimensions in his time as a result of the invasion of his home dimension, did not approve.

This way is…too violent. The crowd is raging, insane, fanatic. I have no love for Lord Reinhard, and I know he would have me killed if I ever gave him the chance. But I do not like Phoebus Ares, and I fear the will of the mob.

As a master of martial arts, Master Remus had learned the truths of battle first-hand, and had decided quite early on that he preferred to teach. He had lost his wife and his son to war, and lived with the knowledge that his adopted daughter had also chosen to live by her sword.

War is a terrible thing. There are times when one must fight, and that is how I justified my coward's decision to teach others, but I do not believe this will be the time. I do not need seer's powers to know there will be death and bloodshed here…

Master Remus slipped away from the crowd, leaning on his walking stick as he hobbled away, muttering something about an old man's pains. He did not like what was happening, and yet felt powerless to stop it.

-

Commander Lukas brushed a hand across his face to stop the blonde hair from blocking his vision, but the owner of the coiffure appeared to have other ideas as she pressed her lips against his face again.

Her name was Maxine Parry, and she was his mistress. Lukas liked using that word for her, even though it wasn't quite correct; mistresses were for richer men, nobles of aristocratic descent, not clerk's sons who had run off to join the army and risen through the ranks.

"And how do you find your mission, Commander?" she said, smiling as she draped herself over him.

"I've spent spies out—aah, do that again—and everything is proceeding exactly as planned."

She twisted his earlobe between her teeth, biting nearly hard enough to draw blood.

"Good."

-

A young Atmos woman bent over to light a fire inside her husband's tent, trying to stop herself from groaning at the effort. Her name was Ceres ka-Ares, and she was the wife of the young rebel leader as well as the daughter of a highly-ranked Atmos chieftain; eight years younger than her husband, she had left her father's tent nearly six months ago.

She looked the worse to wear for it, her once-glossy dark hair hanging lank and dull, her features drawn and pale, and her body wasted. Few would believe that the famous Atmos poet, Lyre Tenouli, had once penned her a ballad praising her beauty.

She looked up, her eyes wide and frightened as a young deer's, as a shadow projected itself onto the wall of the tent…