Prologue:  A Question of Ethics

The snow fell over the small, unassuming town.  A couple young women, out past curfew, rushed home through the streets.  They weren’t trying to be out at this time, but their visits had lasted longer than expected.  As they ran through the streets, a man in a soldier’s uniform stopped them.  “Excuse me, ladies, but you do know it’s past curfew, right?”  They looked at him, frightened expressions on their faces.  “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Please, sir,” said the taller of the two.  “My sister and I, we were just…”

“We were visiting our grandfather, and we had no idea how long we were there.  I’m sorry, sir.  Mera and I will just be off home now…”  The soldier grabbed her arm.

“No.  No you won’t.  Because you won’t have a home in a moment.”  Using his free hand, he lifted the visor, revealing a pair of violet eyes and a strange-looking crease in his forehead.  “You see…  We’re ending this war tonight.  We won’t let you slaughter our people any more.”  Mera screamed.

“Tarsa, look out!” she shouted, but the cry need not have been issued.  Tarsa was already running away.  The soldier looked at her form, then smiled.  The crease opened to reveal a third eye, a glittering amethyst whose appearance hid its deadly purpose.  The three eyes swiveled, focusing on Tarsa’s fleeing form.  But as she began being pulled backwards, Mera slapped the soldier, a desperate attempt to keep her sister safe.

It worked – the soldier turned his focus to Mera, giving Tarsa time to get to the town’s military garrison.  “Help me!  My sister – she’s being attacked by a three-eye!”  The three awake soldiers turned to look at her.  “I know it’s past curfew, but you have to help us!”  The commanding officer, a Lieutenant, walked over to her, looking her up and down.

Meanwhile, the soldier was smiling at Mera.  His three eyes held her pinned to the ground, unable to move.  He had taken a scarf from under the armor he wore, and was now making her sit up.  “You see now?  When they find you, they’ll see a suicide.”

“Your sister?  A three-eye?  Are you sure?” asked the Lieutenant.  Tarsa nodded, looking pleadingly at him.  “Did you see the third eye?”

“I felt its pull,” she said.  “It dragged me backwards.”

The three-eye began fashioning a noose from the scarf.  It was longer than Mera had first thought, and it seemed more rope-like than a normal scarf.  He grinned, his grin all the worse because his eyes were all focused on her.  “You will die alone.  Nobody can help you.  Nobody can stop me.  Your sister can’t even stop this.”  Soon, the noose was fashioned, and after it was loosened, he looped it around her neck.

The Lieutenant gathered all seven of his soldiers, only allowing them to bring their weapons.  Tarsa led them past her tracks, and they rushed through the town.  It wasn’t long until they saw the Three-Eye, Mera sitting in the snow as he tightened it.  “Mera!” cried Tarsa.  Mera didn’t turn around.

The three-eye looked up.  He snarled at the soldiers.  “Damn it,” he said.  “This concerns none of you!” he called.  “Go back to your homes!”  Four of the soldiers rushed toward him; breaking his focus on Mera, he focused on one soldier and threw him into his companions.  Two of them managed to avoid this assault, but the third was unlucky, his companion slamming into him and knocking the wind out of him.  Mera, meanwhile, had loosened the noose, and was now attepmting to slip it off her head.The knot was tough, though, and Mera was weakened by her fright..

The Lieutenant pulled out a bow; the three-eye merely grinned.  “You wouldn’t fire that at me, would you?” he asked.  The Lieutenant shook his head, appearing to aim for Mera.  Only Tarsa, who was standing near him, could see where the arrow would truly head.  As the arrow was loosed from the bow, it whizzed through the air, past the rushing soldiers, along Mera’s ear, and into the scarf-rope, splitting it.  Almost everyone paused for a moment, looking at the snapped scarf-rope.  The Lieutenant simply drew another arrow, firing it into the three-eye’s neck.  By the time the three-eye turned back to the Lieutenant, the bow was placed back.  The soldiers felt the familiar whiz of an arrow flying past them, and within a moment the arrow had planted itself in the Seer’s neck.  He pulled it out, snarling.  Mera, meanwhile, ran away, frightened of the three-eye’s power.

The soldiers rushed the three-eye, swords drawn.  The three who had remained behind now charged forward.  “I see I can’t win.  Heh.  Koinal give me strength.  It’s time for me to meet you at last.”  He focused on one sword, plunging it into its owner’s stomach just as one of his companions slid his blade in between the gaps of his armor.  “Haha… ha…  You can never stop the Seers…”  The three-eye knelt, coughing as his mouth filled with blood.  “Never.”  From behind, a sword sliced through his neck.  His three eyes emptied of life.

Mera looked at Tarsa, then at the soldiers.  She had to throw up; the sight of blood always made her queasy.  Tarsa looked at the Lieutentant.  “Why did you behead him?  Isn’t that only for traitors?”

“He wore the uniform of a soldier,” said the Lieutenant.  “He killed one of our own and took his appearance.  No matter who you are, that is treason.  A question of ethics – we had to honor the man he killed.”

***

The young boy looked up at his elder.  “But Master Hade,” said the boy.  “Why do they want to harm us so?”

“Because, young watcher, some of our kind have aided the devil-men.”

“The devil-men?  You mean those with three eyes?”

“Yes.  Not all are evil, but most are – because they know they can control others, make them do as they would.  But some wish to renounce this power, and many of those go to… extremes…”  Master Hade shook his head.  “Suicides, blinding the third eye…  these and more are done by the desperate ones, the ones who wish no blood on their hands.”

“But master, why would anyone want such control?”

“I cannot say, young watcher.  But there are those of our kind who would help them, who would give them means to ascend to power they do not deserve.  It is their kind the enemy seeks to hunt… but they dare not use our kind, for they believe that treachery to the race is a sin above all else, and they think us… inhuman.”  The young boy’s eyes widened.  “But enough of this talk.  Let us go eat.”  They walked down the mountainside, heading to the small temple.

The sight that awaited them there horrified them.  The two guards, bronze hair grown long since their entrance to the temple, lay on the cold stone, eyes wide in violent death.  The young boy gripped Master Hade’s hand.  The old man’s crying face was reflected in the boy’s violet eyes.  “Master Hade,” said the boy, scared.

“I know not why, young watcher.  This place is one of peace, of safety, and of solitude.  We seek no harm, and we denounce those who perpetrate this violence.  For many years now we have been a haven.  But this…  This violence…  Go.  Run down the mountain, seek out Master Doun, warn him before it is too late.  I will go face down this murderer alone.”  The boy stood.  “Go, Shimo, now!”  Shimo nodded, racing down the mountainside, stumbling over rocks as he took a faster, more dangerous path down the mountain.  Master Hade walked further into the temple.  The bodies of old men, young men, and young boys were scattered all over.  Some had attempted to put up a fight, but the training of a monk was ill-suited against men armed with bows and swords.  From his belt, Master Hade pulled a small, leather-wrapped object.  “It is time,” he whispered.  “Destiny calls me.”

Carefully, he stepped over the bodies of the slain, unwrapping the leather to reveal a small knife.  “I know you’re still here.  You’re alone, too – your soldiers wouldn’t believe you if they had seen your actions in person.  I’m sure you’ll tell them you disrupted a spy network – that’s the heroic thing to have done, rather than kill innocents.”  There was the familiar clink of armor, a sound Master Hade had heard many times in his youth.

“Hah, you can’t do anything about the dead, old man.”  Hade turned around; the figure was clad head-to-toe in general’s armor.  “But since you’re trying to put up a fight, I may as well know your name.”

“Hade,” said the Master, looking at the general.

“Hade…  Surely you don’t mean Hade in Darmukh?  Formerly a street-punk of Unamba?  Well, this is a surprise!  I can finally do what Father wanted to so many years ago…”  The sword was unsheathed with surprising speed.  “You’re dead, Seer.”  As he moved closer, Hade backed up, until he was against a wall.

“I’m curious.  What is your name, one who is about to kill me?”

“My name…  You don’t deserve it.  You devils killed my father; I’m just paying you back for your sins.”  The general lifted the sword-point to Hade’s neck.  “You destroyed Unamba by killing its Sheriff.  The least I can do is make your kind understand Unamba’s pain.”  The general withdrew his sword.

Master Hade merely smiled as the sword was swung in a mighty arc.  He held up the knife, deflecting the iron blade easily.
“Steel, stolen from the finest furnaces, able to pierce the iron of your armor…”  Hade smiled.  “Or the flesh of my heart.  I go willingly, knowing that in the eyes of the Light of Albarion, you are guilty.”

“Your kind are demons; the Light commands we kill you!” shouted the General as he swung his sword again.  He was too late, however; Master Hade had already stabbed himself in the heart and stomach.  The sword came to a halt touching the old man’s jugular vein; as it was removed, the figure slumped to the floor, dead.  “The Light commands it,” he said.  “So said the Prophet Koinal.”

A month later, Shimo found himself at Master Doun’s mountain temple.  Two months later, he had become a part of the temple's family, though he always had many questions.  There was one, however, that he would never tire of asking.  “Master Doun,” he would ask, “why do you carry that knife?”

“To defend myself,” was always Doun's reply, his voice always filled with regret.  “And to defend our home.  Consider it a question of ethics, young watcher.  Sometimes, one must kill to prevent the death of others.”