Chapter 2

This is the center piece of the Many Worlds Project. The Story of the Fortyne Incident, at least that is my plan for now. You will notice connections to Dion's tale in this piece. And I will be posting the second part of Dion's tale later. Also excuse typos and things, this is still in a very rough draft. In fact there may be inconsistencies still because I have written different pieces of the story at different times and may not have had the full cohesive picture of what I wanted to do with the story yet. More editing will come in the future.

Until then enjoy Dusdane's Tale.

It was midday, the sun king hung directly above Dusdane’s head. He knew that if he stayed out in it much longer he’d get a nice red spot on his scalp. He fumbled through the cart and found his hat. Wide brimmed and thickly woven, it should do the trick just fine. He walked to the front of the cart where the caravan leader stood, his boss, Faecon.

“We almost there boss?” Dusdane asked before a yawn slipped out of his mouth.

“Tired? The day isn’t even half done.” Faecon replied his eyes stuck on the horizon. He was looking for walls of Fortyne City, the place where all roads end and begin, trade capital of the Many Worlds.

“It’s this blasted sun, it drains the energy right out of me. Why can’t this blasted world have some damn trees?”

“First time to Fortyne for you?”

“No, I’ve been here before. I just never get used to this never ending flatness.”

Faecon let slip what may have been a smile but it quickly moved back into an unreadable line. “They say Fortyne is the most flat-chested of the three sisters.”

Dusdane blinked. Had Faecon just made a joke? It had been three weeks since entering the portal at Kell, and it had been another two weeks journeying from Dalran to Kell. During all that time Faecon had never smiled, nor joked. He was all business. Had to get the caravan moving on time; had to make sure all the supplies were ready; had to take care of every damned thing so that he could relax, but he didn’t. His gray eyes were always darting from horizon to horizon. He seemed more at ease now that we were crawling across the plains of Fortyne. At least here he could see the danger coming at us in time to properly panic.

However, Fortyne was the most peaceful of the Many Worlds. Many of the rival worlds had at one time or another attempted to take it for the strategic positioning, but none managed to hold it. It was a nexus for the majority of the portals connecting the many worlds. Xirus and that frost ridden world didn’t count in Dusdane’s opinion though. To him Fortyne was the center of all the worlds, and there was no where he would rather be.

“Did you just make a joke?” Dusdane asked Faecon.

“Merely quoting some of the humor I heard some of the guards tossing about,” said Faecon with no sign of the near smile he had once had.

“That’s too bad, I thought for a moment you were interesting,” said Dusdane and began to wander back to his side of the cart to keep an eye on the west.

“To answer your question, yes we should be able to see it by now, which means we should be there by nightfall.”

Dusdane smiled, a night in Fortyne and hopefully five weeks pay to spend there. There would be wine and women from all of the many worlds.

Dusdane looked through the cart again. He was not expecting to find anything new. With luck, perhaps one of the guards had pinched something and there would be a bit of intrigue. However the usual assortment of textiles and foodstuffs were still there. Exactly as he had left them, for the hundredth time.

A large Haranatonian guard named Hurn approached Dusdane and tapped his shoulder with a bulging finger. Dusdane turned to see the man’s hairy bare chest. The hair was streaked with sweat. He was naked from the waist up and wore little to cover the lower half. He towered over Dusdane and he looked up.

“Has Faecon mentioned how much farther we must go?” The large man asked.

“He said we should be there by nightfall,” replied Dusdane. The man smelled like a wet beast. He figured while the heat had been bothering him it must have been murder to this man so used to the snows of his homeworld.

Hurn cursed in his language. Then he began to complain. “Five weeks and no attacks, I see why you people who dwell on the three sisters are so small. No combat to fill your hearts and bodies with the life.”

“I don’t know about you beastie, but I am glad for the quiet trip. The last caravan I was on went to Garren.”

“Are you saying little worms like you fought the nomads there.”

“I am, great battle too. They came out of the ground like skitter bugs and swarmed over the caravan. We ran for our very lives…” at this the beastman snorted, “and drew them through a narrow pass where two rocky walls lined either side. While we circled the carts and fought them out the others climbs the rock walls and dropped stones onto the nomads, scattering them and winning the day.”

The beastman eyes grew slightly larger than they had already been, “impressive, did it really happen that way.”

“No, really we were all killed to the last man. I escaped by burying myself in the sand then I was carried off by the nomads and forced to be a concubine for their women. Best year of my life, before the company which ran my caravan ransomed me out. Bastards.”

Hurn raised a thick eyebrow.

“I didn’t know the nomads took prisoners,” the beastman said in a gravelly voice.

“They don’t. I was lying, I actually died there.”

Hurn snorted and walked away. “I have no time for your silly games.”

“We have nothing but time,” Dusdane shouted after him.

Dusdane walked for a short time before Faecon came back to speak with him.

“Doesn’t seem the Harantonian took to your humor.”

“Doesn’t surprise me, the uncivilized brute doesn’t even have the sense to notice sarcasm, let alone true wit.”

The sun sank sending its last rays at the crystal wall of Fortyne City. The rays cascaded of the crystals creating an evanescent glow around the city. The walls of Fortyne were not so much walls as they were a natural outcropping of huge pillars of crystal. They jutted out of the ground criss-crossing making a barrier that circled most of fortyne. Where there were gaps either conventional stone walls or gates had been erected. This was another reason why the world of Fortyne had never fallen. Time and time again many nations of the many worlds had laid siege to city but none had ever been able to overtake the city. The closest were the Harantonian force in their short lived attempt at domination. The people of Fortyne held out in their capital until a combined force of Elaynian and Maeden forces arrived to force the beastman out.

The caravan reached the southern gate. Standing at the gate were two men, dressed in long yellow cloaks. They wore wide-brimmed hats which made Dusdane’s hat look tiny.

“Something is up,” whispered another assistant. “They usually just have mercenaries at the gate not Arbitrators.”

Dusdane’s eyes widened. In all his times visiting Fortyne he had never encountered an Arbitrator. It was good that he hadn’t, they were the last line of defense the people of Fortyne had. They were expert law enforcement teams in of themselves, and also skilled negotiators. All disputes, criminal or civil, that could not be worked out went to them.

Hurn bowed his head in reverence. Even he knew the stories of the Arbitrators and how they had defended the gate between the two worlds. The Harantonians eventually managed to make it through but the small force of arbitrators badly damaged the overwhelming numbers of beastmen. Fortyne had few laws that warranted harsh punishments, most of their laws were related to trade, but interfering with and Arbitrator while he was on duty was a capital offense. If someone with diplomatic connections who cannot be outright killed interferes with and Arbitrator’s duty, it can mean a full scale trade embargo with that government and a blockade of their portal. The portal network is centered in Fortyne, no government would risk that.
The Arbitrator walked up to Faecon. Faecon bowed low.

“How may I assist you good Arbitrator,” Faecon said as he rose from his bow.

The man in yellow tipped up the rim of his hat and glanced over the caravan. His eyes made tiny jerking movements as he took a wide sweeping glance. Dusdane figured he was analyzing everyone in the caravan.

“Papers,” the man said, it was not a request.

Faecon yelled to Dusdane, “Get our permits!”

Dusdane darted over to the administrative cart and picked up the pile of forms that allowed this caravan to enter. He then shuffled back Faecon and placed the permits on the front cart’s seat.
The Arbitrator picked up the papers and began flipping through them. The forty page form could take him and hour to sort through. It had taken Faecon, Dusdane, and Faecon’s staff a full day to piece it all together. However the Arbitrator flipped through the pages with amazing speed. Still it took an uncomfortably long time. The caravan workers shifted in place as night grew darker.

Dusdane had excused himself and moved farther back in the caravan.

“I don’t get it, they usually have clerk’s to do this why an Arbitrator?” Dusdane wondered to the assistant.

“I’m telling you something is wrong,” he began then looked at Dusdane. “How many times have you been to Fortyne?”

“Maybe a dozen or so times, that is why Faecon hired me on as an assistant.”

“In all those times have you ever seen an Arbitrator?”

“No, I always considered that a good thing,” said Dusdane, then his eyes sharpened on the assistant. “How do you know what they look like?”

The assistant lowered his eyes, put the toe of his shoe in the ground, and didn’t answer. Dusdane shrugged, it didn’t matter to him much. His eyes drifted back over to the man with the ridiculously oversized yellow hat. “Not much for fashion are they?”

“They want you to see them, they want you to know who you are dealing with.”

“You’d think they’d find a less gaudy approach.”

The Arbitrator dropped the papers on the seat. The cart lurched forward slightly.

“You are cleared to go, Arbitrator Dylan will escort you to your booth in the bazaar,” said the first man and yellow then he motioned towards Dylan the silent one behind him.

Dylan had been a statue until the moment when the first man motioned to him. He then stepped forward and took off his hat revealing leathery skin from too much sunlight and scars crisscrossing his face.

Faecon raised an eyebrow and looked at the two men. “Escort? We can find out own way, there is no need for…”

Dylan cut him off, “…There is an emergency situation, all caravans are being monitored as per the Emergency Situation Order passed down by Head Arbiter. I’ll try to be as convenient as possible.” He smiled a warm smile which offset his grizzled face. “Your papers are in order and I have seen most of you around here before so I expect no trouble.”

Faecon forced an unnatural smile.

Dusdane shrugged at the situation, at least they were being let in.

The caravan was led into the city by Dylan. They took a direct route to the Bazaar no detours. Usually this would have been the time for some of the guards to slip off and catch a drink or some of the local entertainment, now that the caravan was safely in the city.

However when one began to slip off Dylan said to him without looking, “I am sorry but I can’t allow you to leave the caravan.”

The guard an old veteran of the Garrenian and Elaynian wars, a man Dusdane had never wanted to get cornered by, got back in line.

Dusdane stood close to Faecon who stood near Dylan. Dusdane was curious and listened in as Faecon tried to ply information from the Arbitrator.

“I have never heard of an emergency situation like this,” said Faecon.

“I would assume you haven’t, they happen rarely,” replied Dylan simply.

“But they do happen?”

“There are always emergencies, it is our job to minimize that,” Dylan adjusted his hat so he could see better.

Faecon tried to be more direct, “What can cause these situations?”
Dylan smiled again and said nothing.

Faecon shrugged. He looked over at Dusdane and pointed at an inn coming up on the left. “Dusdane, go in and speak with the innkeeper. He should know me, and arrange for lodging of the caravan crew.”

Dusdane nodded and began to move, but Dylan said quietly and with an edge, “No one is to leave the caravan.”

Dusdane froze.

Faecon protested, “I need to make arrangements for my men they are very tired. You cannot impede the operations of a caravan the laws are quite…”

Dylan stopped. The whole caravan stopped. Then he smiled disarmingly. “I am aware of the laws as much as you are aware that I am an Arbitrator. Now if you would please quit your prattling we will make sure your men are taken care of.”

Dusdane was of the increasing opinion that something was very wrong. At first he had just been annoyed at the lack of ability to stop by and see Tya at his favorite tavern. She always was welcoming of the young man, especially after he had been paid, and then he would have stopped by and seen Freah, she often had a soft bed to fall into after a hard night enjoying the comforts of Fortyne. He always stopped by to see them when he first arrived.

But now he was more worried about something else. He suddenly felt that the caravan was in danger. The streets were quiet. Fortyne was a bustling metropolis with the greatest night-life of the many worlds and here it was utterly silent. He shuddered to himself and remembered another time he had been a city of this size where it was this quiet. His home town when it had gone into resistance against the Garrenian invasion. But war couldn’t come to Fortyne.

“Dylan!” A voice shouted from a rooftop, “Defender of a wicked city, you murdered my comrades now you will judged!”

Faecon barely had time to yell for the men to seek cover and they were among us. Shadows from the alleyways there were maybe a dozen of them but in the darkening night Dusdane couldn’t tell. He saw the beastman Hurg bat one aside, bare handed. But three of the shapes changed directions and overwhelmed him. The beastman barely let out a shout before he fell to the ground.

The shapes were headed towards Dusdane from the rear of the caravan and others were appearing from the front. Dylan had drawn a blade about the length of his forearm, he was holding it with the grip reversed and back along his arm pointing towards his elbow. Dusdane pulled out a knife himself but glanced at it and it seemed small as weak. Faecon had pulled out a pistol.

Dusdane squared his shoulder and raised his knife against the first attacked and suddenly got a good view of the fully armored man. The black armor bore the insignia of a woman holding a scale before her eyes, Maeden Judges.

Dusdane leapt onto to the first one stabbing wildly looking for a gap in the plates of the armor, but the attacker simply brushed him off and shoved him into the cart. Dusdane felt pain flow up his spine like fire then he readied for a second attack that didn’t come. He looked up to see the man had walked past him, as if he were not worth the effort. Faecon fired the pistol at another incoming Judge but the flechette of crystal bounced harmlessly off of the armor. Five of the judges converged on Dylan.

Dylan flicked his wrist and a small device fell onto the back of his hand. It sprayed out a sheet of liquid in a circle which suddenly hardened into crystal. The Judges all drew their swords. In the back of the caravan it appeared that the other judges were simply disarming and holding the workers back.

Dusdane leaped onto the back of the judge who had attacked him stabbing at the neck only to find the neck armor had been reinforced. The knife did nothing but he had a hold of the man. He stumbled under Dusdane’s weight, and tried to reach back, but the heavy armor restricted his reach. Dusdane tried to find the man’s neck but all he felt was metal and crystal. His fingers crept up onto the man’s face, and pressed inwards. But Dusdane was thrown off and he hit the ground hard. The Judge whirled around and swinging his sword, Dusdane jerked his head back to avoid but the tip sunk into the side of his head. He felt the sharp pain and expected to feel death’s cold hand casually take him like the others in the caravan who had died. But the blade didn’t continue through his head.

Dusdane opened his eyes and saw another blade in front of his head blocking the Judge’s sword, a crystal short sword. It was held by a man in a yellow longcoat. With expert skill the man ran the short sword up the Judge’s blade and cut the between the plates of the wrist armor. The Judge dropped his sword. Dusdane looked around and saw a dozen yellow longcoats disarming the Judges. The fight was over and many of the Judges lay dead. Dylan flicked his wrist and the shield melted away the liquid flowing back into the device. He had killed two himself.
“It worked,” said another Arbitrator as he approached Dylan.

“Indeed,” Dylan turned to two other Arbitrator who dragged and beaten Judge towards him. “Is he, healthy enough to talk?” One of them nodded.

Daren turned to Faecon. “We thank you for your services, please go about your business, your caravan has been granted amnesty from the curfew.”

Faecon turned red, “I lost many of my men and some of my cargo has been damaged, I demand an explanation!”

Dylan blinked but other than that looked unfazed. “We are aware that in your service of our city you have had some loss, you will be compensated. Come to the Arbitrator Headquarters tomorrow.”

The yellow coated men quickly moved off into the streets some carrying captured Judges some simply vanishing when Dusdane turned his head away. The rest of the caravan workers had long since scattered off into the quiet ends of Fortyne, some to lick their wounds others to try and drink the chaos away. Dusdane followed Faecon to the merchant they were delivering to. Since the bazaar was closed they had to make a direct delivery. Dusdane had begged to wait till tomorrow, but Faecon was obstinate. They arrived at the gates to the Merchant’s compound. Guards made their best show at being intimidating but after the battle with the Judges and scrutiny of the Arbitrators, the guards posturing struck Dusdane as amusing. Some blood trickled down his face and he wiped it away. The judge’s blade must have knicked him pretty bad.

After the Guards let them in Faecon kept things short, Dusdane went over the manifest, accounting for the damaged goods, and reduced the price accordingly. They would still make a profit but it was narrowed by the skirmish, however Faecon would be talking to the Arbitrator’s about that.

After their business was complete Faecon released Dusdane, and Dusdane stumbled off into the night.