'In the beginning, the first white man came from above the skies in a chariot breathing fire. He brought with him many warriors and their women. Over the years the warriors and their women dispersed to the various provinces and for a time everyone lived in peace. Then from the north a man came with a mighty army who took over all of the provinces and enslaved all of the people in his path, on the land to the west, they came from Baikonur and from Eskishehir and the fragile peace was threatened. There rose in the eastern provinces a warrior king whom they called Heraclius, and he united the peoples of the provinces on the mainland and together they prepared to do battle with the invaders. Heraclius was a shining example to all of his people and they followed him willingly. He was big and strong, and the men and the women worshipped him, and he became king of the entire eastern kand mass. He encouraged his followers to build defences and to be ready to fight against the invaders. He repaid his followers with dignity and justice, and all were proud to serve under him. He had two sons, and one of the sons who was jealous of the other, and knew he could never find his father's affections, defected to the invading forces. And Heraclius was sad, and his woman, the most beautiful woman ever to exist, implored him to make peace with the invaders. This Heraclius tried, and failed, sending messenger after messenger with offers of treaties and promises of fair treatment, but no messenger ever returned to the mainland, and by and large it became clear that there would be no peace between them. And again his woman, she who was called Mirkani, impored him to call off the war, and to capitulate for the sake of her youngest son, Alden, whom she loved dearly. Heraclius considered this, and even offered to go himself to the western shore to speak with the leaders, but she refused to let him go. They argued long and into the night, and he pointed out that since all other efforts to make peace had failed, and that the life of her youngest son Alden was in danger from conflict, that it was logical that he should go. Again she refused, and their argument continued, even unto the dawn, and still it was not resolved. Heraclius went to the western shore in spite of her protestations, attended by his generals, and knowing that only he could secure peace for them all. In the western lands he met with the warlords of that land, and tried to reason with them, that they knew the might of his army and that they would be crushed if they set foot on the mainland. Some of the warlords listened, but one, whose name shall never be mentioned in this narrative, stole away while they talked, taking Arden and putting him to death in secret. As the talks progressed it became clear that a lasting pecae could be secured, and that Heraclius would indeed be able to return to the mainland with his son. The Nameless One rejoined the talks and by guile and deceit was able to persuade the waiverers that the peace on offer was acceptable. A deal was struck. The warlords agreed to disband their armies and to live in peace in the western lands without ever troubling the mainland again. Heraclius would return in triumph to the mainland with his youngest son, Arden, and Mirkani and he would be reunited. In the morning Heraclius went in search of Arden and found him put to the sword, apparently by one of his own men, though none claimed any knowledge of this act. Heraclius was in rage for three days, and with his men went on the rampage in Shar-mak, even unto the point of killing three hostages taken at the height of his misery. He was himself captured by the warlords and slung into prison in Shar-mak but was released by the Nameless One, who wanted for himself the glory of taking his life, in public. But Heraclius escaped to the mainland, taking with him his generals and the body of his dead son, and they sailed to Horta, where they were met by his woman, Mirkani, and her grief was sore and her rage matched that of Heraclius himself. His explanation of how their son had come to be put to the sword failed to sway her, and they were disunited, even to the point where Heraclius did not attend his son's funeral, but instead prepared for war. He had underestimated the strength of his enemies, and their military capabilities, and they came into Barbessel from the north, across the permafrost, led by the Nameless One, for all of the warlords he had long since sent to their deaths. Much of northern Barbessel fell to the invaders, and Heraclius, who had been in the north-east, was cut off from his city and from his woman. In due course the invaders pushed north-eastwards, forcing Heraclius' forces into Pekeesh, and for a time they were attacked on both fronts, for the bronzeskins knew not the implications of the invasion by the Nameless One. The battles that were waged in those days were long, and hard, and many thousands of men were slaughtered, and those that were left wounded on the battlefield were swiftly put to the sword, either by the invaders, or by Heraclius' men, or by the bronzeskins. A deal was struck between the bronzeskins and the Barbesselians, whereby it was agreed that the great plains, much of which had previously belonged to Barbessel, was signed over to them in return for their forces fighting on the side of Heraclius. For fourteen days the greatest battle of all was waged on the great plains north of Warikeewa camp, until only the Nameless One and Heraclius himself of the fifteen thousand men who had begun the battle remained. For a further day and a half these two fought each other with sword, with axe, with dagger and spear, neither giving ground, and it is said that as they fought trees and shrubs grew up, even overnight, so that by morning they fought within the confines of a grove where before they had fought on open ground. After one day and one night, each man fell to sleep, but the Nameless One awoke first, and stole away from the grove, to find a man who would take his place, handing to him his helm and weapons. And when Heraclius awoke and found this man standing over him, waiting to resume their fight, he assumed it was the Nameless One, and again the grove rang to the sound of their clashing weapons and cries as each drew the blood of the other. But the Nameless One had returned to Horta, where he took Mirkani as his prisoner, and killed her instantly, cutting off her head for all to see, claiming that he had killed Heraclius and was there fore the victor. And he was believed in his treachery. But Mirkani appeared to Heraclius in a vision in the grove, and he knew he had been tricked, and he fought with renewed courage and determination and killed the man left to face him by the Nameless One, and when he had killed him, he did the same trick and claimed that he had killed the Nameless One, producing the man's helm and weapons as proof. There was loud rejoicing, and the battle gear was buried in the grove as a mark of respect, and Heraclius and his men, together with the bronzeskins, began to push back the invaders, even as far as Horta. But at this time Heraclius did not know that Mirkani was dead, expecting to find her waiting for him in Horta. When he found that she was dead, and that the Nameless One had killed also his other son, Wolfric, his despair and fury were unabated for many days, whilst the invading force took their chance to flee back across the sea to the western lands. For nearly a year Heraclius mourned the deaths of his loved ones, and refused to leave Horta to hunt down the man who had done this evil deed. And in the meantime, the Nameless One regathered his forces and set off to again conquer the East, this time travelling in a westerly direction so that they came to the eastern lands landing at Korphyria. Heraclius, learning of this fresh attack, rode across country to Ancyros with a score of handpicked men, including ten Warikeewa, the chief of whom was among them and set sail off the eastern coast to assist in the defence of Korphyria. Again he was met with treachery and deception. The Nameless One mounted attack after attack on the Korphyrians in the guise of Heraclius, having taken from the Warikeewa previously men who were loyal to his cause. When the time was right, he and his men departed Korphyria, continuing on to Ancyros, where they set up base and founded the city of Prakussara, leaving Heraclius and his men to the wrath of the islanders. But they escaped, and they too returned to Ancyros to fight a pitched battle with the enemy. Being heavily outnumbered, and with the people of Ancyros dedicated to the Nameless One's cause, Heraclius had no choice but to return to Barbessel, his mission failed, knowing also that he was now blamed for the carnage that had taken place on Korphyria. Alone in Horta, without any of his family to support and comfort him, Heraclius sank into a decline so great that none could persuade him out of it. He had sworn to kill the man who had taken his woman and his sons from him, but against the power and against the cult of the Moon God Khamen which the Nameless One fostered, he was utterly powerless. He sought the wisdom of a seer, and took comfort from his predictions. He arranged for Pekeesh and the other provinces to be defended against invasion, and no invasion came. But he would not leave Horta again. And all the while, the Nameless One, who was his brother, his kinsman, his blood relative, who had come with him from the skies, fortified himself in Prakussara, waiting for the time when he could once again challenge Heraclius for the right to rule Heraklion.'

'It is not Angry Wolf!' Miki cried. 'It is Heraclius!'

'Does this mean that General Vitellius is in some way related to Marcellus?'

'I am not sure.'

'There is another panel of writing, there, on the opposite wall! What does it say?'

Miki's eyes quickly scanned the new text.

'It is written that there will be great conflict between the white men and the bronzeskins. The treaties undertaken by Heraclius and Warik shall come to grief as the Nameless One resurges from the north, destroying everything in his path and enslaving peoples as he goes. There shall arise in the east a white man to unite the allies and fight against the invaders, and he shall defeat them. But his own destiny is shrouded in uncertainty and deception, and treachery. The treaty with the bronzeskins shall be reinstated but the white man shall lay as at death whilst the fighting takes place, and shall be unable to come to the aid of his bronzeskin blood brothers. This is all that is written.'

Again they gazed at each other.

'Do you suppose the people living on the island know of the existence of this room?'

'It is not secured in any way,' mIki observed. 'There were no guards, no secret locks, nothing to bar our path.'

'We entered through the jhirkuyt.'

'Surely we cannot be the only ones to do so?'

'It is possible that this is a treasure room, and that it has been ransacked on a previous occasion, the treasures stolen. Rulers used to be buried this, with all of their possessions, to see to their comfort in their life to come.'

'I do not believe any but us have visited this room in centuries. If they had, they would know the legend of Heraclius and that Vitellius is wrong, and bad. They would know that Angry Wolf should be nursed back to health so that he can assist in the defence of Pekeesh against the invaders.'

'It is possible that even now Vitellius, believing Marcellus to be dead, has begun to invade Pekeesh.'

'We must get to Angry Wolf as quickly as we can, and administer this herb.'

'Your dream, Miki. There was something about a weapon.'

'What of it?'

'You had the dream.'

'I cannot remember it clearly. I think it might have been a sword.....'

'Let us search for a sword. It must be in here!'

'A special sword?'

'I do not know. You had the dream.'

'What use would a special sword be to Angry Wolf? He cannot move, from what they said.'

'They also said that they were waiting for him to regain consciousness so that he may be executed!'

'You are right. We must hurry.'

'There is nothing in here.'

'There is no other way out, unless you can see something that I cannot.'

'All I see are the walls.'

'Then we have to return.....'         

In the centre of the room was a large rectangular block of stone on which rested an enormous sarcophagus, with the carved statue of a warrior-king laid on its top. As they approached it, they noticed the extraordinary similarity of the features of the statue to those of Marcellus.

'This is Heraclius!' Radulf whispered. 'Here is his name in Herakian.'Miki nodded.

'And here it is in hieroglyphs.'

'It could be Marcellus.'

'I am conviced that they are linked in some way.'

'But this is the burial chamber of a moon God follower.'

'So?'

'Marcellus is not a Moon God follower. He does not even believe in the Controllers.'

'This is not Marcellus, Radulf. This is Heraclius. It is quite possible that he believed in the Moon God. It is quite possible that Marcellus once believed in the Controllers.'

'Yes, he did.'

'Well, then.'

'There is still something I do not understand. The text in the other chamber said that a man would come from the east to stand against Vitellius.'

'If Vitellius is the Nameless One.'

'Who else coult it be? Anyway, Marcellus comes from the west.'

'Barbessel.'

'Barbessel is on the west coast.'

'But in the eastern lands.'