i.
Twilight's Edge
"Wuh-woor, urawuh wu-uh!" yodeled Meerowa in jubilation, turning to face his remaining companions. The full moon shines upon my heart, brothers and sisters, for our sanctuary looms before us!
The last few weeks had been the greatest test the group of banderbears had ever faced. The long trek through the Deadwoods had been easy enough; they had taken their entire stash of food with them, and used it sparingly. The troubles had begun when the blackened boughs had thinned and vanished, to be replaced by the swirling golden mists of the Phraxfields.
The enticing golden glow had swiftly taken its toll. As they trudged on over the flat, featureless rock pavement, various banderbears had broken ranks and lumbered away, howling desperately as they chased after the beguiling hallucinations beckoning to them. The party had been some five hundred banderbears strong when they had entered; now, only two hundred remained. Not long ago, Meerowa's firmest companion, Leeru, had stumbled off, yodeling plaintively at an illusion of his brother, who had been slaughtered by the phraxguardians years ago.
Once or twice after that, Meerowa had imagined Leeru emerging from the distance, calling for him. Abandon your hopeless plight, Leeru had yodeled. Let our paths become one. Together, we will find peace.
"WAAAH!" Meerowa had roared defiantly. He refused to let himself be taken too. He had a responsibility to see his other companions to safety. If he was seduced by the Phraxfields, he kept telling himself, all would be lost. He had to remember who he was…to keep reminding himself of his identity. It was the only way to keep his mind.
You are Meerowa…He Whose Heart Will Lead The Way, he had growled to himself under his breath over and over. You are forging a path through the treacherous glow-fields in search of the eastern haven of the scholars…in search of a new life.
And, at long last, he had found it. Looming before the banderbears were the pitheads of phraxmines. Miners, Lamplighters, Scuttlers, and Sergeants were going about their business, excavating phraxcrystals for use in the city of Omniphrax. This was the very edge of Vartolius Xax's Empire…so far from any settlement that the workers were safe to venture out here…as long as they didn't succumb to twilight madness or phraxlung, though, thanks to the safety precautions laid down by the academics, even these were exceedingly rare these days.
A fourthling phraxminer shuffled past, glanced in the direction of the banderbears…and dropped his pickaxe in astonishment. "Earth below and Sky above!" he yelped, jumping back from the approaching creatures. "How long have I been working out here? I'm twilight-touched!"
"So you see 'em too, eh?" mumbled an astonished-looking gray trog, marching forwards to stand beside the fourthling. "But then it ain't no hallucination then, innit? If we can both see 'em."
"You'd be surprised," said the fourthling, looking scared now. "I've read that sometimes the phantasms in the Phraxfields can be seen by anyone in the vicinity…but they're no more real than the ones that are only in one guy's mind."
"We should complain to the mine sergeant, we should," growled the gray trog, "If we're twilight-touched, 'e won't have no choice but to shorten our shift."
Meerowa stepped forwards. "Wurra-wuh woo," he said. We are not lies of the treacherous glow-fields. We seek refuge in the eastern haven of the scholars. He then reached out a paw and touched the shoulder of the trembling fourthling.
"I'll be a quarm's uncle…you are real!" gibbered the fourthling. He turned to his gray trog companion. "Banderbears, Darl! Real live banderbears!"
"We gotta tell them Librarians!" said the gray trog enthusiastically, and, wheeling around, he yelled, "Sergeant! Sergeant! We got usselves a gang of refugees!"
In an instant, the mine sergeant appeared, eyes widening as he saw the group of banderbears.
After a few seconds, during which the sergeant seemed to be struggling to comprehend what he was seeing, he said, "Well…well, come with me, my friends. Your days of living in fear are at an end. All are welcome in Omniphrax."
ii.
The Deadwoods
Bruto Spleethe, commander of the Great Glade Military, was in a towering temper. Of all the pointless endeavors he had let himself get caught up in, this had to be the most unpleasant and fruitless.
After Lurroam had showed him the secret passage, he had sent out a call for his army to rejoin him. Half of the Freeglade Lancers and the Great Glade Military had followed him through the passage, and emerged in the brambly remains of what had once been a magnificent glade of ironwood pines. Lurroam had then determined the direction of the fleeing banderbears, and they had set off.
They had found nothing.
Whether the banderbears had traveled quickly, or navigated the Deadwoods with stealth, or found some other means of concealing themselves, Spleethe and his armies had searched the Deadwoods for weeks without abatement, and though they found banderbear tracks and other signs, not a single one of the creatures had fallen into their clutches. By embarking on this mission, Spleethe had hoped to eradicate the pilfering pests and make a brutal example that would send a message to every other sniveling wretch in the Edgeworld. Why, perhaps it would even have scared the waifs into submission. Or maybe those deplorable academics in the east would have finally sat up and taken notice. But instead of conducting this glorious genocide, Spleethe had found himself traveling all over this dead mass of trees, finding nothing.
At last, Spleethe and his armies had reached the edge of the Deadwoods. Stretched before them was the undulating golden light of the Phraxfields.
"Banderbear tracks, Commander," said a bone-nosed Freeglade Lancer with a scar across his cheek. Bending down to examine the prints, he added, "They're fresh. Can't be much older than a day or so."
"So that's it," said Spleethe, his low, expressionless voice betraying not a hint of his rage. "They got away."
"Not necessarily, Commander," said the Freeglade Lancer. "There's a good chance they're all twilight-touched by now."
"Be that as it may, we can't chase them any further," said Spleethe. He turned to the half-starved, flogged banderbear pulling his carriage.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble you have caused?" Spleethe hissed. Lurroam shook his head desperately, ears quivering in terror.
"You led us through this godforsaken place for weeks. And we arrive here to find that your treacherous friends have escaped. Indeed, if you hadn't come to me and betrayed your fellows, they would have had no reason to leave in the first place! Thanks to your meddling, they got away!"
Lurroam seemed lost for words, too frightened to say anything.
"Release the cages!" Spleethe bellowed. He drew his hammelhornhide whip and cut through the bonds tethering Lurroam to his carriage. Several orange, fluffy creatures suddenly appeared in blurs of orange movement.
"Wuh-wuh!" screamed Lurroam, lumbering backwards. "Wig-wig! Wig-wig!"
The banderbear turned tail and ran, tearing back off into the Deadwoods, the ferocious wig-wigs hot on his heels, snapping and squealing.
Spleethe listened for a few more seconds, as the howls of the banderbear and the yips of the wig-wigs faded away. Then, he stepped out of the carriage, turning to the Freeglade Lancer with the scar.
"I will need your glistercraft," he said.
"Very good, Commander," said the Freeglade Lancer, springing to a salute.
"It's time to head back to Great Glade," said Spleethe. "Now, we concern ourselves once again with matters of true importance."
iii.
Riverrise
"So?" said Vartolius Xax coolly, sitting across from Xelius Pulnix at the top room of the Great Phraxtower. "What were the results of the battle?"
"Predictably, we were driven back, Most High Phraxguardian," said Xelius Pulnix. "The Vilnix Pompolnius suffered moderate hull damage, superficial damage to the primary aftcastle, and the glisterbeam needs recharging."
"Yes, well, never mind all that," snapped Vartolius Xax, waving a bony hand irritably. "What damage did you inflict?"
"More that they did us, Most High Phraxguardian," smirked Xelius Pulnix in triumph. "We ignited a lot of fires, and many gantries collapsed. Most notably, our glisterbeam dug an enormous hole in the side of the fortress. All of this damage can be repaired, but the Vilnix Pompolnius will once more be ready for battle long before they have done so."
"Then my theory seems correct," said Vartolius Xax. "Their counterattack will be less effective when the Vilnix Pompolnius approaches again…and if they still manage it, we can try again."
"I will order the repairs done immediately," said Xelius Pulnix.
"Excellent," said Vartolius Xax. "Very well then. You are dismissed."
Xelius Pulnix gave a hasty salute, turned, and left the chamber.
Vartolius Xax stood up and crossed the room, stepping onto the balcony. He gazed off into the distance. Far off in that direction was Omniphrax.
"You're luck is about to run out, pathetic dissidents," sneered Vartolius Xax. "We're coming for you."