ummdhibun

CHAPTER ONE: First Encounter Joan was lost. She knew she shouldn't have taken a short-cut. But she had and now she was trapped in the middle of some unnamed desert, looking ridiculously travel-worn and worried. She had written to the Master a week ago and he had written back to her giving her directions to where she should meet him. But the directions were so twisted and wounded that she couldn't have remembered them by heart – so she had written them down. But there were so many cuts and corners she could skip – or so she thought. And skip those cuts and corners she did, and this is where she had ended up. Lost. Worried. Hungry.

CHRONICLE OF THE BLOOD-FILLED CROWN Prologue: The Last Flag-Bearer We must not part, my flag and I; Although I've lost an arm, a tooth, and an eye. The birds of war, above our heads do fly: Raven, crows and vultures – all screech and cry. Innumerable dead carcasses on the ruddy ground do lie. The widow weeps, as the dying man sighs. Houses burn, and children scream and cry. Men, horses and sheep – on the same ground – all die. But we must not part, my flag and I. I am the last of the eight. The other seven have met their fate. I suppose they must do, to reach Heaven's gate. Death is the only route, and it is never