Last Master of Myn

“They were attacked by the Horde Icharh no survivors both children disappeared.  We have not been able to find any traces of Angelic or Dienos.  I am sorry we failed them again.”  The Altered stands in the Altered’s temple at the Dim City.  “We tracked the Horde north until they disappeared into the plains no bodies, no tracks nothing after that.”

            “I know we failed the Armah Family completely this time.  How did those Old Ones ever find the Guardian and his family?  We told only that one and she was fully ready to leave the Dim City with just the clothes on her back.”  Icharh looks out of the window.  “I will contact Xerces and tell him.  He will not be happy to be the Leader of the Altereds on this occasion.”

            “No he will not be.  Tell him we are sorry.”  The Altered bows and retreats out of the room.

            “No apology can be given they are all gone.” Icharh eyes tear up he drops down on his knees as another Altered enters.

            “Icharh Xerces sends a message.  They have a Morth egg and it is still alive at Dracmore.”  The Altered stands looking at the note.  “He orders all Altereds to be watchful for any signs of the twins or any other family member.  He thinks there is still one alive.  He has already heard about the Horde attack.  He orders you to reconnect with the Altereds.”

            “Maybe the fates are being kind today and the children survived.” Icharh rises looking at the Altered and the written order he has not talked in their way since the lost of the children his idea to keep them on the road hidden from even the Will of Frontiere.  He concentrates for a moment and all the voices now come to him, “See to it all Altereds get that message and we will be watching.”

            “At once Icharh,” the Altered bows and leaves the temple sending the message to all Altereds that an Armah Family member may still be alive.  He hopes it will be a short time before they get the last two children protected again, but….they have to find them.

The leaves, blowing around in a warm autumn day breeze, swirl around a man standing in the middle of the road utterly frustrated.  His horse threw her shoe and from the looks of it the next small hamlet is a long way off.  So, there he stands, all six and a half feet of muscle, and might, holding the source of his current dilemma, a horseshoe, turning it over and over, as if that very action will magically replace it on the horse so that he might continue his travels.  In a final act of frustration, with a slight twist of his wrists, the metal shoe no longer holds any resemblance to its former shape.  He throws the twisted metal to the ground a hand reaches in to pick it up.  “I suppose I have been in worse positions,” He muses to himself, picking up the saddle and bags and looking to the warm autumn sun.  “So Dienos, forward towards the mountains or back to the plains?”

            “MASTER MYN, what do you mean?”  Angelic turns to the Assassin Master of the House, “Leave him alone?