A great walled city appeared over the horizon in the middle of the Gandus desert like none other Zanis had ever seen. From afar, he could make out the dome shaped buildings, their roofs of azure like suspended ponds, and a giant tower dwarfing all else around it, tall enough to touch the clouds hovering above.

The sullen warrior, once a member of the Kalsaron Tribe, a great battle-axe slung over his back, rode his weary horse to the front gates of the unfamiliar city. He skimmed his maps to find it unmarked. He could have sworn he had seen everything the Realm of Gandus had to offer-everything, except this.

At the front gates two guards, clad in full armor and carrying spears, halted Zanis's entry into the city. From the tips of their fingers to the covering of their skulls, nothing-not even their eyes-was left uncovered by their armor. Zanis cocked an eyebrow. Surely the heat of the desert must be unbearable for them. In a light leather vest, even Zanis broke a sweat.

One of the guards asked, "What's your business here, boy?" His voice sounded distant, like an echo in a dark cavern.

Boy? Zanis smirked, wiping sweat from his forehead and running his hand over his black mohawk-cut hair. Could a boy carry an axe as large as an elephant's tusk?

The other guard poised a blunt spear at the tribesman's throat. "Answer him!"

With two fingers, Zanis waved the spear's point away from him. He then reached for his wineskin and, unhooking it, flipped the wineskin upside down shaking it to show it was empty. He was thirsty and needed something to drink.

"Can't you speak?" the guard asked. "You've a tongue, use it!"

Again, a smirk flashed on Zanis's face at the guard's comment. He sighed and then simply opened his mouth wide enough to show only teeth, but no tongue. It looked as though he had been cursed with never having been born with one. Either that or someone had torn it out completely. Needless to say, the tribesman didn't have the means to speak.

The guards lowered their spears and resumed their positions at the side of the gates. They said nothing about what they had just seen, only remarked, "You may enter."

Zanis nodded to them, kneed at his horse, and trotted through the gates of this strange and new city.

#

Strange it was, not only the city itself but its inhabitants as well. Although they went about their business-the streets bustling with shouts from barters selling exotic fruits and cheap jewelry with the odd thief casually bumping into a passerby to pick a pocket-they did so in a manner different from other cities. To Zanis, everything was like an act, as though the city wasn't really a city but only pretended to be one. It showed in the vacant eyes of each citizen as they stared at Zanis riding by in a way one stared at a condemned man being escorted to his execution.

When he reached the inn Zanis dismounted and tethered his horse. With a glance to each side, the citizens still peering at him, he pushed the doors of the inn and entered.

It came as no surprise when the denizens of the inn reacted to Zanis with the same stares as those on the streets. His brow furrowed as the unwanted attention bordered on annoyance. He was like any other traveler, he thought, and a tribesman was not uncommon between the Realms since each Realm had its own home tribe. Instead of pondering on it, Zanis felt it best to rest for awhile and then make his way to the next city or town as soon as he felt refreshed.

He approached the innkeeper and, with gestures similar to the ones he used with the guards by the gates, asked the innkeeper to refill his wineskin. The innkeeper complied. When he came back he asked Zanis how he managed to enter the city.

Zanis glanced around the room, everyone waiting expectantly for his answer. They were somehow frightened by the tribesman's presence.

"You should leave, stranger, if you can," the innkeeper said, trembling as he handed Zanis back his wineskin. "Leave, before the bell sounds."

At this, Zanis gave a questioning look. What bell?

The innkeeper leaned closer to the tribesman. He looked around him and whispered, "This city is cursed." Zanis cringed at the innkeeper's breath. It smelled of rotting flesh.

Backing away a little, Zanis took a swig of his wine and it felt refreshing to have something wet his dry mouth. He took some coins and dropped them on the counter.

As he got up to leave, the innkeeper grabbed Zanis's burly, tanned arm. "This is the city of lost souls!" His tone was loud, almost a scream. "I don't know how you got in here, stranger, but you're not leaving so easily!"

The very words sounded like a threat, but the innkeeper only trembled like a scared little boy. Zanis broke free of the innkeeper's grasp and turned to leave. The denizens looked even more afraid now.

"Haven't you ever heard of the city that never ascends!" the innkeeper shouted. "You're stuck here just like the rest of us!"

Zanis's only reaction was a slight grin. He had heard of such a place where its people had been long dead, but cursed by Itturus, God of the Worms, to remain forever imprisoned within the walls of the city, lost and forgotten, never able to ascend to the stars, to the Realm of Illusion. But that was only a tale used to frighten children into good behavior. No hell like that truly existed.

With that reasoning in mind, Zanis left the inn and resolved again to leave the city.

#

The eyes of the citizens on the streets shifted from Zanis to a girl in a dress calling out for help as she ran away from two fully armored guards and a dark man in colorful robes.

"Grab her! She's trying to escape the city!" the man in the robes shouted. "Quick! Before the bell sounds!"

Again, a reference to a bell. At that moment all the citizens scattered, running to anywhere where they would be indoors. Zanis quickly glanced around the city but saw no such bell, not even atop the tower. He started to think these people mad, or at the very least enslaved by some tyrannical warlord who ruled through strict martial laws.

"Help me someone!" the young girl cried as she ran. The guards were almost upon her.

Kicking at his horse, Zanis galloped towards them and halted in front of the girl. He dismounted quickly, his hands spread out to the girl to show his intentions were good, that he would protect her.

But when the girl ran to his arms she ran through Zanis as if he were mist. It shocked the tribesman, and the feeling of having one soul pass through his own chilled him to the bone. He turned his head to see the girl cowering by a wall.

With tears running down her face, she looked into Zanis's dark eyes. She was unperturbed by her passing through his soul. Her quivering lips begged Zanis for help.

"You there! Who are you?" It was a high pitch shout, like a cat whose tail had been trampled on by accident. Zanis spun around and was met by the dark man in robes of many different colors and his two guards with their blunt spears poised to strike. The man's lips curved into a cruel smile. "Kill him."

The two guards thrust their spears at Zanis. He deflected the blows with his steel gauntleted left arm. He reached for his axe with his other hand and with a grunt, swung the axe across. The axe cut through the guards' armor, severing their torsos. Yet not a single drop of blood fell, for there were no bodies under the armor, only an empty space. The armor broke in pieces, shattering on the floor like glass.

The sight stunned Zanis, and if the man in the rainbow robes had a weapon he could have cut the tribesman down as swiftly as Zanis had felled his guards. Luckily for Zanis he didn't, and turned to run towards the tower wailing, "Intruder! There's an intruder within the city!"

The sound of a bell rang. Zanis clasped his axe and watched as the city began to disappear. The buildings and even the faces of the people watching him from the windows faded. In seconds there was only desert.

Zanis turned back to the girl. She was still there, but her body was translucent. Zanis knelt to her side. The girl's blue eyes were red from tears.

Between sobs, she said, "Please, warrior, you must save this city. We are trapped by a spell of delusion. We've been dead for nearly five hundred years and can never ascend to the stars, cursed to wander here forever. Please you must." As the last of her soul disappeared her words became fragmented. "Beware. flames."

When she vanished, Zanis heard his horse whiney, followed by the sound of an army of footfalls. He stood. His muscles tensed and his heart jerked.

Hundreds of the ghost guards surrounded him, their spears only inches away from puncturing his body.

"You don't belong here," the guards said, almost in unison, a hundred wistful voices.

The bell sounded again and Zanis looked to the direction of the sound. Although the city had vanished like a dream, the tower remained unchanged. The guards pushed him towards it with the wooden backend of their spears. Zanis was certain they would kill him, and then he too would be a lost soul of this accursed city.

#

Zanis's battle-axe was taken from him, but the guards did not bind him. He figured they thought it impossible for him to escape. There were guards as far as he could see in every direction. With an army so large Zanis wondered if he was looking at all the dead.

Within the dark tower there were no levels or stairs, nor any decorations or furnishings, only a pentagram design engraved in the centre of a bare stone floor. The dark man in the colorful robes stood in the middle of it, arms crossed in front of him.

As Zanis was led to the pentagram by the lifeless, ghost guards, the dark man bowed and said in his squeaky voice, "Greetings, tribesman. My name is Halik. You thought you could escape the city, did you? Hah! You will certainly die today, but not until you've met with the Governor. He has made a special request to meet you."

Zanis made neither sound nor gesture. He glared at Halik.

Halik closed his eyes and whispered an incantation in a language Zanis did not recognize.

The pentagram glowed with a purple light, which brightened with each passing moment. Zanis covered his eyes when the light became blinding and engulfed the tower. Halik's incantations grew from a whisper to a shout. A sudden flash caused Zanis to snap open his eyes and he found himself on the roof of the tower. Steps led towards a throne covered by dust and sand.

The wind beat against the tribesman's body. In the distance, the sun began to set behind the horizon. Ghost guards, one of which had his axe, surrounded Zanis. In front of him was Halik and behind Halik were three hooded men in scarlet robes encircling a large, tanned man with red eyes and hair like a crazed flame. He, too, wore a scarlet robe. It was plain to Zanis that this man must be the Governor.

Halik changed from his own robes to the scarlet ones they wore and joined the three hooded men. When he had joined them, they knelt before their Governor, their heads bowed and covered by their hoods.

A sound came to Zanis's mind, a voice, hard and guttural.

"Welcome, former tribesman of the Kalsaron Tribe," it said. Zanis stared into the Governor's fiery eyes and knew the voice came from him through some form of magic. "Welcome to my city," he spread his arms out and a red light glowed from his palms, "to the city of lost souls!"

The red light spread like wildfire encompassing the entire roof. It was then that Zanis noticed the designs below his sandaled feet. Human faces in agony stared back at him. Then they began to move, eyes blinking and lips forming words.

"Help us." the lost souls pleaded.

Zanis jerked and a dark laugh issued within his mind.

"Fear not, tribesman, they cannot harm you."

Zanis looked back at the Governor, fists clenched tightly. How he wished he had his axe so he could cut this fiend down.

"Judge me not," the Governor's voice said, and Zanis wondered if he could hear his thoughts. "First listen to what I wish to propose to you. They call me Exerlis the Flame. I understand you are known as Zanis."

Zanis only nodded.

"You can speak using your mind. Just think the words and I will hear them."

At first there was a pause from the tribesman. Then he thought the words he wished to speak. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to join me," Exerlis the Flame said.

Zanis gave a questioning look.

"You've nothing to say?"

With some hesitation Zanis replied, "I'm not used to this, to a conversation. Whether it is through lips or mind, I haven't voiced a word to another in years."

"Of course, I know, for I know all about you, Zanis."

"How?"

Exerlis sat down on the steps, resting his head on the palm of his hand. His expression was calm even though a million tortured faces pleaded for their freedom below his feet; a sound not so easily ignored. "The moment you stepped into the desert, Zanis, I entered your mind. Normally, I would have asked for your permission to do so. But under the circumstances, I indulged myself in your memories and experiences. You have lived quite the life, tribesman, and are surely among the strongest I've the pleasure to meet. And so I lured you to this tower using the city of where my minions, the lost souls of the desert, roam."

"And now you want me to join you?" came Zanis's reply. He couldn't help but feel charmed by Governor Exerlis, as though the Governor could easily relate to people as cursed as Zanis.

"Aye. That I do."

"For what purpose?"

Exerlis stood once again. His voice became louder inside Zanis's mind. It wasn't a shout, just loud and foreboding. "I wish to conquer the Gods of the Realms, and with you leading my armies of ghosts perhaps I may achieve my goal. The gods, Zanis. Itturus, God of the Worms, Boorvanus, God of the Heath, and Salavan, Goddess of the Stars."

Zanis smirked. "Gods? They are not gods you wish to conquer, but demons."

"Ah, so you still cling to your beliefs? The beliefs that cost you your tongue and banishment from your ancient tribe. The beliefs that branded you an oath breaker."

Zanis dug his nails into his palms. Exerlis only laughed at the reaction.

"I know all about the tribes and their Creeds. I know that for one to go against their tribe's Creed is to give up their faith to their patron god. And to do so results in death, or worse: banishment as an oath breaker, to travel the world forever as a sinner." Exerlis held his fist out. "But I give you a chance to redeem yourself. Help me conquer the gods and I will grant you forgiveness."

"I don't seek redemption for my sins against the Creed," Zanis said, turning around with his back facing the Governor, "and I don't wish to fight demons. Now, please, give me my axe and return me to the desert so I may leave in peace."

There was a pause. A great gust of wind blew by. Moaning echoed from the tortured souls.

"I cannot do that."

Zanis's heart fluttered. He stared, narrow-eyed, at the ghost guard carrying his axe.

Exerlis spoke again, this time with his mouth. "If you do not wish to join me then I'm afraid I must apply force. I'd really rather you be by my side as a freeman enveloped in glory. But now my ghosts will kill you, your soul will belong to me, and you will suffer far greater tortures than any of those beneath you!"

The armored ghost guards charged Zanis, but the tribesman was too quick for them. The ghost with Zanis's axe tried to use it as a weapon and failed. When it swung the axe, it was a clumsy, easily evadable swing. It was a weapon not any man - or even demon - could handle without years of practice.

Leaping on the ghost, Zanis stomped on it, grabbed at his axe and broke the ghost's grip. He delivered a downward strike crushing its armored skull.

With axe in hand, Zanis grinned and with a grunt he swung the axe in a circle wide enough to cover nearly half the rooftop. The only sound was of armour being shattered and the hollow screams of the ghosts.

When the last of the ghost guards were destroyed Zanis leaned on his axe, breathing through his nostrils to calm his beating heart. Even for him the great axe-though the only weapon he would ever use in a fight-took its toll on him.

"I expected no less from you, Zanis," said Exerlis. During the battle he laughed cheeringly, like a spectator watching a gladiator fend off lions. "Now I want you even more! What do you say? Join me!"

Having calmed his breathing, Zanis swung his axe over his shoulder and bent, slightly, at the knees. Instead of using his mind to speak, he only shook his head once, slowly.

"Mark me, Zanis! You'll kneel before me just like the rest of them!

Then Exerlis the Flame stood between his four hooded worshippers. The worshippers rose to their feet and in an instant their scarlet robes burst into flames. They did not scream for they were no longer human, but spiritual combustion. The four dancing Flames circled around Exerlis like a barrier.

Indicating the Flames, Exerlis said, "These will serve as your funeral pyre, tribesman!"

Exerlis pointed and the Flames tossed balls of burning fire at Zanis. Quickly, Zanis dodged by leaping to the side of the rooftop throne room, but Exerlis followed his every move and the balls of fire kept coming four at a time.

Zanis feint a step to the right. A fireball landed in front of him, exploding on impact. The blade of his axe defended him against the searing flames, but the force of the explosion threw him to the ground. He rolled on the floor, still holding onto his axe, until he halted.

Exerlis laughed. He took a seat by the dusty throne, legs crossed.

"And so the great tribesman of Kalsaron falls."

Zanis lifted himself on his hands and knees. The back of his hands were black from smoke and his lungs felt clogged turning his breathing into gasps. A haze enveloped him. It was only a matter of time before one of the fireballs killed him.

It was then that Zanis noticed the agonized face below him. It stared back at him with blue eyes. He recognized the face. It was the girl who he had helped when Halik and his guards chased after her-the same girl who had asked him to free the lost souls.

"Stand up, warrior," she said. "We will help you if you will deliver the final blow."

Zanis nodded and stood up. He wrapped his fingers around his battle-axe and poised it over his head.

Exerlis sneered. "I see you've given up. You gamble your life on a single blow. My magic will incinerate you before you have the chance to deliver it."

He pointed a finger to Zanis, but the Flames did not obey.

"What's this?"

To Exerlis's horror, a dark pink light shot up from the floor and the lost souls of the desert soared through the skies. They tangled themselves within the Flames and sucked the life out of them. The Flames shrank until they were gone.

"Is this a rebellion? How dare you!" Exerlis cried. His expression changed from one of pure authority to one of pure fright. The lost souls danced around him. Their cheers mocked him.

Then, to do his part, Zanis charged towards Exerlis, leapt over the steps and, with a battle cry, his axe crashed down on the once great Exerlis the Flame.

The blade of the axe protruded from Exerlis's chest. His eyes were empty of their fire and, as Zanis tugged the axe free, his body collapsed on the floor and then melted into black ash, blown away by the fierce wind.

The lost souls surrounded Zanis They danced and twirled around him, thanked him, and ascended to the stars where many believed the dead went, into the Realm of Illusion with the gods.

The girl again floated in front of him. So young and innocent, Zanis wondered what it was that had caused her death.

"Thank you, warrior," the girl said. "You have freed us after centuries of enslavement. With the last of our power here in the Realm of Reality, we will send you near a village before this tower crumbles." She held her hands out. "Close your eyes."

Zanis did so. For an instant he felt elevated, and then the cheers of the souls were no more and he could feel solid ground beneath his sandaled feet. When he reopened his eyes, he was close to the village of Baldor on the outskirts of the desert.

He tried to search for the tower in the distance and the dark pink light, but could see neither. He thought he heard the voices of the souls in his mind. Again, they gave their thanks, and in a strange way he thought he could hear the gods, too, giving him thanks. But he grinned for such a silly thought.

There were no gods, he thought to himself. Only demons.