The Cavalier

Six

Darkness Comes



The Greever lifted its bony head from the winged beast on which it was feeding. Its nostrils flared, sniffing the air of his domain, the domain in of which he was the master, the killer that lived to hunt. As its bloody jaws tore rhythmically at the bone and flesh, the demon felt the distant tug of its master’s call, a call not heard in ages.

The Greever stretched its nine foot frame to its full height, its long muscular arms held wide, sniffing the air again, feeling the invisible tug of his master’s summons, eager for the blood that was soon to follow. The Greever was the ultimate killer, built solely for destruction. It resembled a man, but was much taller and more heavily muscled. Long sinewy arms hung down to its knobby knees. Its powerful legs were shaped like a goat, but instead of dainty hooves, long clawed toes like a dragon bore its solid weight. The Greever’s thick leather-like skin was gray and cold to the touch. Its body was completely hairless, except for the thick patch of black hair that covered part of its dog-like head and muscular neck. Sharp bony spikes were imbedded at the back of the demon’s elbows, the front of its knees, and the top of its shoulders and head, all of which it could use with flesh tearing devastation. Its red, deep set eyes glowed atop a thick snout above powerful jaws filled with teeth strong enough to break steel. The beast’s hands and feet were long and clawed with wicked talons, each the length of a dagger. Tucked into crevices on its back were long leathery wings, capable of carrying the demon long distances. For the Greever did not tire, did not relent from any hunt. At the end of each wing was a long sharp spike that it could wield as a deadly weapon. Everything on the demon was formidable, including its tail, which was as thick as a man’s arm and ended in a heavy sphere covered with poisoned spikes. Endowed with lightning speed and power, it could also hunt as quietly as a cat.

The familiar fog began to swirl before it, and the beast entered the mist, eager to be sent to another world, to serve its master, because its master always provided him sustenance, and the Greever was hungry for new flesh.

***

That night Jonas, Fil, Calden, and Bornius, another boy from the blue team, were sitting on their beds quietly discussing Jonas’s fight with Torgan. The black team was on the far side of the barracks and they couldn’t possibly hear their conversation.

“I fear you’ve made a powerful enemy, Jonas,” commented Bornius as he changed into his sleeping shirt. Bornius was the son of a farmer and Fil and Jonas liked him immediately. He was a hard worker, kind, and looked to help others before he helped himself.

“Jonas didn’t make anything. Torgan has had it out for him since he came here a year ago. It doesn’t matter what he does, Torgan has made up his mind he hates him,” Fil said, sitting on the edge of the bed above Jonas.

“I’ve tried to befriend him, and even today I covered for him, but it matters not; we commoners will always be scum to him,” Jonas said.

“I don’t understand how the king, or the other commanders, would promote Torgan to a position of power with such prejudices. How can he be a leader if he can’t inspire all his troops, not just the highborn?” asked Fil.

“A lot of the highborn believe the same way he does,” said Calden.

“I don’t believe the king agrees. He didn’t seem that type to me,” replied Jonas.

“You’ve met the king?” asked Bornius incredulously.

Jonas looked up at Fil, forgetting that these boys, their new friends, didn’t know anything about their story or how they were sponsored. They never asked so it never came up, and Jonas worked hard to cover his God Mark, which was almost an impossible task, but so far he had been successful in the deception. Master Morgan was privy to Jonas’s mark and he helped him in keeping it hidden. When it came to bathing, Morgan would provide time where Jonas could be alone.

“Yes, Fil and I met King Gavinsteal over a year ago. We were both sponsored by Master Landon, a well-known merchant from Tarsis. Master Landon is a good friend to the king. He brings him dwarven weapons and armor to outfit his knights,” said Jonas.

“How did you meet this Master Landon?” asked Calden.

Jonas looked up again; shrugging his shoulders, Fil gave him a go ahead expression. So Jonas told them their abridged story. He left out information about his mark and the battle they had on the road, but he told them about the destruction of their town and their meeting with Airos.

“I can’t believe you met a cavalier. What was he like?” asked Bornius.

“Kind and generous,” said Jonas.

“And someone to see in a fight. He was an incredible fighter, and he was inspiring. He made everyone feel like they could win. I’ve never felt like that before,” said Fil.

“Yes, I’ve heard that cavaliers have the power to inspire courage and push back fear. I’ve heard Airos was one of the best. I would love to have met him. It saddens me he was killed. And what is a Banthra? I have never heard of one,” asked Bornius.

“I’m not sure exactly,” responded Fil. “I think it is some sort of demon brought here by Malbeck, a minion of the Forsworn I think, but I never saw it.”

All the boys except Fil and Jonas tapped their chests in the four pointed star at the mention of the dark gods.

There was a stir by the entrance and the apprentices that were in the barracks quickly shuffled to attention. Jonas, looking towards the door, saw Prince Nelstrom briskly moving towards them. He wore a glossy black leather breastplate with the Finarthian symbol embossed on it. The prince’s breaches were made from supple black leather and a flowing silk cape hung from his strong shoulders. He wore knee high leather boots polished to a glossy black. His dark hair was cut short and his beard was trimmed to a point, giving his face an angular, strong look.

The apprentices near the prince all bowed as he walked with long strides towards Jonas and his friends. Fil jumped down from the bunk and the other boys got to their feet standing at attention, bowing slightly as the prince moved directly to Jonas.

“Leave us,” the prince said curtly, staring directly at Jonas.

Fil, Calden, and Bornius quickly walked away toward the other apprentices who were watching intently at a distance.

“Good day, Prince Nelstrom. It is good to see you,” Jonas said, matching his stare.

The prince ignored his comment, looking him up and down. His blue eyes were piercing and shone with malice. “I heard what you did to my son,” the prince whispered, his voice laced with venom.

“I did nothing, he attacked me…”

“Do not address me unless I ask you to. You are nothing to me, a low commoner who has gotten lucky. Who are you to even consider crossing blades with my son? He is in line to be the king of Finarth and you are likely a bastard son of some common bar whore,” the prince continued angrily.

Jonas’s eyes blazed with anger and his muscles tensed. A part of him wanted to punch the prince in the stomach.

“What’s wrong, boy? Are you angry? Did my words offend you?”

Jonas, controlling his emotions, replied evenly. “No, sir, they did not.”

The prince smiled wickedly. “Stay out of my son’s way. Do you hear me? Don’t ever insult him or make him look foolish again. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Jonas, his eyes holding the prince’s gaze.

“I see you’ve grown in confidence this last year. That is good. Maybe, in several years, you and I could cross blades. Do you think you could beat me?” the prince asked with an amusing smile.

“No, sir, I do not,” replied Jonas evenly.

“Good. At least you’re not as stupid as most of your lice ridden kind.” Their eyes locked again; the prince turned on his heels and strode briskly from the room.

Jonas let out a deep breath and sat down on the bed. Fil, Calden, and Bornius moved back to Jonas quickly, eager to find out what had transpired between him and the prince.

Fil sat down next to Jonas. “A private conversation with the prince; if only I was that lucky,” Fil said, smiling.

“What did he say?” Calden asked with interest.

“I think I’ve made an enemy of the prince and his son. He told me to stay away from Torgan and to never make him look bad again.”

“What! Torgan attacked you and you did all you could not to fight,” exclaimed Bornius.

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t like me. I will just have to watch myself and make sure that I don’t put myself in a position that might create tension between us,” replied Jonas.

“That’s if Torgan doesn’t look for trouble,” interjected Fil.

“Blue team! White team! Everyone up, it’s time for a night run!” yelled Master Morgan, entering the barracks. “Let’s go, move it!”

“Here we go again. Two nights in a row,” mumbled Bornius.

“Let’s go, Blue Team! Get moving!” bellowed Calden, getting up to put on his boots. All the kids scrambled to put their tunics and boots back on and move out into the cool night air.

***

The Greever flew hard all night. It did not need to rest. Its powerful body was fueled by inert magic, magic born to the beast, and its hunger pushed it relentlessly. The Greever was a demon of a different world, it was born from magic, and the energy of the Ru’Ach pulsed within its veins. Its long leather wings beat the air rhythmically and its piercing red eyes scanned the Finarthian hills for its target. The beast, flaring its nostrils, caught the scent it was looking for. A quick flick of its wing sent it southwest toward the towering city of Finarth.

***

The night’s run was long and Master Morgan had also made them do various other training maneuvers and exercises. The boys stumbled into the barracks, tired and sweaty. Even Jonas’s muscles felt heavy. They crawled to their beds still wearing their tunics and breeches and quickly fell asleep.

Jonas awoke with a start, his chest itching and tingling. He opened his eyes wide with fright realizing what was happening. He looked around frantically, unsure of what to do. Shyann was warning him of something, but what? He couldn’t just wake up the whole barracks.

He silently got out of bed and shook Fil to wake him. Fil, stirring in his sleep, slowly opened his eyes. “Fil, wake up, something is wrong.”

Fil’s eyes focused as he saw Jonas. “What is it?” he asked groggily.

“My chest, something is happening.”

Fil got up quickly, knowing that Jonas’s warnings in the past had been all too real.

“The warning is slight, but I can feel it. What should we do?” Jonas asked with concern in his voice.

Fil got up and climbed down to stand next to Jonas. “We need to tell someone,” he said, putting on his boots.

“But who? No one will believe us.”

“The king will, or Prince Baylin, or even the high priests that know about you,” whispered Fil as he buckled his belt around his waist. “We could tell Master Morgan, he knows about the mark.”

“We can’t go see them in the middle of the night. The guards will stop us.”

“We have to try, Jonas. You know what this means. We are in danger.”

“You’re right. Whatever the warning is, it is probably for me. I should get away immediately so I don’t endanger everyone around me.”

“You can’t do this alone. Let’s go,” Fil said without waiting for his reply. Jonas quietly followed Fil through the barracks and outside into the cool night.

Fil and Jonas ran to the east, towards the knight’s barracks as the Greever landed lightly on the roof of the boys’ sleeping quarters. The beast tucked its long leather wings into the crevices on its back sniffing hungrily for the scent of its prey. The demon smelled its target somewhere near, and its maw opened instinctively, saliva dripping from its long fangs. The deadly hunter leaped down to the ground landing lightly by the north entrance, its dark leather-like skin blending like a ghost into the shadows of the night.

Jonas stumbled, his chest flaring with pain. Fil reached out grabbing his arm to steady him. Images flashed in Jonas’s mind, images of a great beast entering their barracks.

“Fil! The Barracks! They are in danger!” Jonas said, his eyes wide with fear, seeing the images that Fil could not.

Fil and Jonas glanced back toward their barracks. They were near the knights’ own barracks so they wasted no time and sprinted toward the main door. A knight in full armor stood outside the entrance, spear in hand as the boys neared. The knight quickly pointed his spear forward, standing in combat position as he saw the two forms stumble out of the night.

“Who are you?” the knight asked. Then seeing their blue tunics he relaxed a bit and approached them. “What are you two recruits doing out this time of night?”

“Quick, our barracks are being attacked! Raise the alarm!” yelled Jonas.

“What?”

“Do it now!” screamed Jonas grabbing the alarmed knight. Suddenly screams in the distance filled the night.

“What in Ulren’s name is that?” asked the soldier looking out into the darkness.

“I told you, we are under attack! Now get help!” Jonas yelled grabbing the knight’s sword from his sheath and running back into the night towards their barracks.

The knight dropped his spear, grabbed the horn around his neck and blew the alarm. Fil picked up the man’s spear and ran after Jonas. The screeching blast of the horn combined with screams coming from the boys’ barracks awoke the battle hardened knights sleeping nearby.

The Greever walked silently through the barracks, its padded paws making no sound on the rough stone. The demon’s long claws on its feet were retracted so it could walk quietly.

There was warm flesh everywhere and the Greever’s fanged mouth was gaping hungrily. The Greever could almost taste the succulent feast so near. Its long powerful arms reached out as its bony head scanned the bunks for its prey. The demon could smell him; the entire room stank with his stench. To the demon, the boy’s goodness and pure heart left an odor that was disgusting, something to be destroyed by tooth and claw.

One of the apprentices to the Greever’s right got up slowly; something had awakened him. The Greever stopped not more than two paces away, staring at the boy, its red eyes, like rubies, bright with anticipation. The boy’s eyes adjusted to the night and looked directly at the nightmare before him. He shook his head slightly, looking again, his eyes widening in fright as his mouth opened in a scream that never came.

The Greever’s right wing shot from its back and the long spike on the tip speared the boy like a pig. The only sound that came from the boy was a gurgle as the demon ripped the spike from him, but the noise was enough to awaken several boys around him who groggily began to stir from their slumber. The Greever’s jaws opened wide hissing loudly, its powerful body crouching, ready to attack. And that is what it did.

The Greever tore into the young boys, clawed hands ripping and tearing flesh. The demon was a whirlwind of death, spraying blood into the air, covering the walls with crimson splashes. The barracks were alive with the screams of the wounded and dying, and the Greever relished the cacophonous sounds of his carnage as he savored the coppery taste of blood.

Jonas ran through the doorway and was assaulted with the chaos of death and terror. Blood was everywhere and unrecognizable bodies littered the floor. His heart pounded and fear gripped his body, immobilizing him briefly. Many of his friends were dead, and more were dying as he stood just inside the open doorway.

Then anger filled his body and beat away the fear in his heart. Moving further into the room he desperately looked for some way to help his friends that were still alive. It was dark but he could just make out a large form at the far end of the room ripping and tearing, cutting a swath of death as it moved with unbelievable speed. Jonas heard more screams and hoped that some of his friends had made it out the south door.

He held his sword out in front of him, but it seemed so puny against such a beast. In the murky darkness his eyes swept around the room frantically trying to come up with some sort of plan. Jonas prayed silently, pleading desperately for help from Shyann.

Suddenly Jonas felt his body growing warm with an energy building deep within him. The feeling surprised him, but the screaming in the darkness forced him to focus his mind on the warm flood of energy coalescing inside him; and he prayed, concentrating on his belly where the force was centered. Suddenly his body began to glow. It was as if a white light was slowly growing within him, starting in his belly and emanating outward surrounding his flesh. It was not the explosive light that Jonas saw from Airos, the cavalier, but a softer light, growing in strength the more Jonas concentrated. The light’s rays pierced the darkness, beating away the shadows and illuminating the horrible destruction.

The beast pivoted quickly as the light touched it. The Greever didn’t like this light; it felt strange and unwelcome, stinging its flesh, but there, standing not more than fifty paces away was its target. The Greever’s nostrils pulsed with disgust taking in the horrible smell of its target. The demon hated that smell, hated all it stood for. It wanted him dead. It would take more than light to stop it from ripping the boy to pieces and feeding on his warm wet flesh. The hunter crouched, leaping forward with astonishing power and speed.

Fil ran in behind Jonas, quickly taking in the scene. Jonas’s magic light flared brighter, exposing a scene that was beyond Fil’s imagination, but Fil didn’t have time to wonder about the light or the carnage around him. A huge beast with long arms and blood covered claws was running at them with incredible speed, jaws open, exposing long deadly fangs. He felt fear grip him, but he fought it back, leaping in front of Jonas, and hurling the spear with all his might. The spear took the demon in the chest, the impact stopping its charge momentarily. The beast looked down at the spear jutting from its flesh, momentarily shocked by the power of the attack. But a normal weapon could not harm the demon. The creature simply reached down, ripped out the spear, throwing it against the wall with a clatter. The thick leathery skin around the wound closed immediately and the demon crouched low, hissing at the boy who threw the weapon. Leaping toward him, the Greever snapped its wings forward, the sharp dagger like points piercing Fil through each shoulder.

Fil screamed in pain as the spikes ripped through him, piercing through his back. The Greever used its powerful wings to lift the screaming boy in the air and fling him against the far wall.

Jonas, splattered with Fil’s blood, screamed for his friend, a furious anger consuming him. He charged the demon, his god light flaring brighter as his anger surged through him. The Greever hissed angrily as the bright light stung its eyes, forcing the demon to retreat back several paces, covering its eyes with the tips of its wings. The Greever could hear the boy with the sword scream and a few seconds later he felt the minor stings of the sword as it cut its flesh several times. The demon swatted Jonas with its arm, its inhuman strength sending the boy flying through the air, smacking hard against the wall.

“Ulren!!”

The Greever turned toward the new challenge, a gigantic man wearing only leggings, charging from the door. His heavily muscled arms carried a glittering battle axe over his head as he charged. The Greever used its left wing tip as a spear and shot it toward the warrior’s midsection, hoping to skewer him. Graggis, a trained warrior and the best axe fighter in all of Finarth, used the flat side of the blade, deflecting the blow and coming in low at the demon. His colossal strength enabled him to easily wield the cumbersome weapon. He swung the axe sideways and across the beast’s right thigh.

The beast howled with pain, stepping back from the magical blade, a deep laceration splattering black blood onto the ground. This weapon was no ordinary blade. The demon felt the dwarven magic sting its flesh and it hissed with anger and pain, sending both clawed hands out simultaneously, tearing long deep cuts across the man’s chest.

Blood poured from the wounds and Graggis stumbled backwards. More men rushed in through the door with weapons drawn. The Greever sensed that these men were battle hardened warriors, some of whom might possess magically forged weapons as well. The demon looked at Jonas’s body crumpled on the floor and back at the men who were flooding into the dark room.

Graggis, seeing the demon turn its head toward the boy, lifted his axe over his head and threw it with incredible speed and strength. Somersaulting fifteen paces the axe slammed into the beast’s chest. An eerie howl of pain erupted from the demon as it stumbled backwards. The axe head was buried deep in its chest and the pain was unbearable. With a quick flick of its clawed hand the Greever ripped the weapon from the wound, shuffling backwards away from the knights.

It would take too long for this wound to heal. Its inert magic would be unable to quickly seal a wound inflicted by a magical weapon. The demon could probably kill the boy and the larger warrior, but it knew not what it faced with the rest of the men. The mission could wait. With an angry howl the demon pivoted, racing down the body strewn barracks and leaped out the back door into the night. The beast used its powerful legs to jump into the air, unfurl its wings, and fly into the protection of the darkness. The Greever howled again in anger. The hunt would have to wait for another day.

Graggis was kneeling on the bloody floor using his strong thick arms to hold up his weight. His chest was badly torn and blood was pouring steadily from the wounds to pool on the stone floor.

Lathrin and a handful of knights moved toward him, fanning out into the room, their swords drawn and their faces reflecting disgust and despair as they viewed the carnage clearly for the first time. Most of the knights were wearing leggings and night shirts and not much more as the alarm had awakened them from their slumber. The room was dark again. Jonas’s light had been extinguished when he hit the wall, but several of the knights had brought lanterns and they raised them to get a better look at their surroundings.

“What in Bandris’s name happened?” asked Lathrin, scanning the terrible scene, his eyes wide with horror. Lathrin and his men were warriors who had fought in many battles, had seen men killed and had experienced the horrors of the battlefield. But this was beyond their imagination. Everywhere, weaponless boys were ripped and thrown around the room like pieces of a rag doll. Body parts and blood were everywhere. Lathrin stumbled forward in shock at the death and destruction around him. “What was that beast?”

“I don’t know. It looked to be a demon of some kind. The beast was attacking the boy, Jonas, when I arrived,” Graggiss muttered through gritted teeth as he slowly stood, pain lancing through his body. Lathrin dropped his sword reaching out to stabilize Graggis’s massive body.

“Get a healer in here! Now!” screamed Lathrin. “Dagrinal, report this to the king and warn the castle if they have not already been alerted.”

“Yes sir!” Dagrinal, wearing only his night tunic and breeches, raced out the door with his long sword in his hand.

“Sir,” Graggis said.

“Yes.”

“The boy, Jonas, he was glowing when I came in. A white light was shining from him, keeping the demon at bay. It was God Light, like that from a cavalier.”

“What! Are you sure?”

“I am,” whispered Graggis, stumbling to the ground, his strength finally sapped from loss of blood.

“Get the healers now! And someone get some priests in here!”

***

Jonas slowly opened his eyelids letting his tired eyes adjust to his surroundings. They focused slowly and he saw that he was lying in a large bed. The room was big and richly decorated. His vision swam and the scene blurred; his head throbbed in pain. Dizziness overwhelmed him and everything went black again.

“Jonas.” He heard his name whispered as he tried to shed the darkness from his mind.

“Jonas.” It came again and he slowly opened his eyes to see Manlin, high priest of Shyann, sitting at his bedside. The priest’s face showed concern as he looked down at him.

“Where am I?” asked the weary boy.

“You are well. You are in the king’s personal chambers. I am Manlin, do you remember me?”

“Yes, you are a high priest to Shyann.”

“I am. Good. Do you remember what happened?” the priest asked.

“It is all a blur.”

“It should be. You suffered a massive injury to your head and several broken ribs. Do you recall what happened?” the priest asked again.

Jonas closed his eyes thinking. His head throbbed painfully as he tried to remember what had happened. Jonas suddenly opened his eyes, the memories rushing back to him, and tried to get up. He was very weak and it was easy for the priest to hold him down. “Fil, where is he? Is he alive?” Jonas asked fearfully.

“Yes, he is alive. Barely. But he will make it. He is as tough as mountain stone, but he would have died if we hadn’t gotten there to heal him. He was rapidly losing blood from two deep wounds in his shoulders.”

“I remember now. A demon attacked us. The beast killed many of my friends and speared Fil with two spikes from its wings. Then it was all a blur. I think I was thrown against the wall or something. Why was I not killed?” asked Jonas.

“Graggis and a handful of knights ran into the room just as the beast flung you against the wall. Graggis fought it and sent it away, but he suffered serious wounds in the fight.” Manlin saw Jonas about to ask about Graggis when he interjected. “Yes, Graggis will be fine. I healed him as well.”

“That is good. Thank you, sir,” muttered Jonas gratefully.

“Thank Shyann.”

“I already have,” whispered the exhausted boy.

“Can I ask you a question, young man?”

“Of course, I owe you my life.”

“You owe me nothing. It was Shyann that saved your life. How did you raise the God Light?”

“You know?”

“Yes. Several of the apprentices that survived said they saw it and Graggis confirmed it.”

Jonas hesitated a moment, thinking about what happened. “I don’t know. The beast was killing my friends and I didn’t know what to do. Then I felt an energy rise up inside me and when I concentrated on it I began to glow. The light penetrated the darkness and it got brighter the angrier I got. That was when the demon charged me.”

“Did the demon shy away from the light?” asked Manlin.

“Not at first. After the demon attacked Fil I remember screaming in anger and that’s when the light flared so brightly that the demon backed up, shielding its eyes and hissing as if the light stung it. That was when I attacked it with the sword that I had. The blade did nothing and it simply swatted me aside to hit the wall. That is all I remember.”

“I see,” Manlin said thoughtfully.

“Manlin, why did my blade do nothing to the demon? And Fil threw a spear that went all the way through it. The demon just ripped it out and tossed it aside. We could not harm it.”

“A demon that powerful can only be harmed by magic or magical weapons. That is why your light affected it and Graggis’s battle-axe hurt it. His axe was a gift from the king and it was enchanted by the dwarves who crafted it. A great gift for his courage,” added Manlin.

“How did I bring forth that light?” asked Jonas.

“I don’t know, son. The light you called upon was God Light that only a cavalier can bring forth. Even I cannot call it. I have never known Shyann to sponsor a cavalier, nor have I ever heard of someone being able to bring forth the God Light unless they were trained as a cavalier at Annure or another kulam.”

“What’s a kulam?” Jonas asked.

“They are training facilities for cavaliers. There is one in Annure and several more west of the mountains.” Manlin paused as he looked at Jonas. “It seems that Shyann has her own plans for you, Jonas. Now get some sleep. We will talk again later.”

***



Jonas awoke several hours later to loud voices outside his door. He sat up in bed just as his door opened. The king quickly walked in followed by Graggis, Prince Baylin, Prince Nelstrom, Lathrin, and Manlin.

“Ah, Jonas, I’m glad that you are awake,” the king announced as he approached his bed. Jonas tried to get up to pay his respects but the king waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Stay in bed, young man, you have been through a lot.”

The king was wearing a blue tunic with gray breeches and draping his shoulders was a blue cape lined in silver. His tunic was embroidered with the silver symbol of Finarth. Dangling from his side was his amazing sword, the blade that was created to replicate his ancestor’s ancient weapon, the one that destroyed Malbeck the Dark One.

Jonas looked at the others as they all looked back at him uncertainly; all except for Prince Nelstrom who averted his eyes. The prince’s eyes were red and swollen, with dark circles under them as if he had not slept. He wore his customary black clothes with silver thread. He did not look well, thought Jonas. Then it struck him; did Torgan, the prince’s son, make it out of the barracks alive?

“I’m glad that you survived, son, but we need to ask you some questions. Will you please tell us your account of what happened,” asked the king, who, Jonas noticed, also looked bone weary.

Jonas looked around at the solemn men and took a deep breath as he began his story. It took several moments to relate the events up to the point where he was knocked out.

“It was your chest that warned you again?” asked the king.

“Yes.”

“That is the third time now?” asked Prince Baylin.

“It is.”

“It seems that these attacks are not just coincidence. They are obviously directed at you, Jonas. You have made powerful enemies,” continued the prince.

“What have I done, sir? Why would I have these enemies?”

“It is not you who have made the enemies, but Shyann the Huntress, and Ulren the High One,” added Manlin. “Shyann has picked you, for whatever reason, to be her warrior, to wield the light of Ulren. When someone is singled out like you, then you will certainly attract Shyann’s enemies. It is possible that all the attacks you have been through have been because they were after you, even the attack on your town. Did you ever wonder why everyone was killed when your town was attacked? If the boargs were just there to feed it seems likely that others would have survived. It also seems likely that maybe Shyann had a hand in shielding you from the boargs. I do not think that a Banthra and hundreds of boargs came to your town to feed. I think they came to kill you, to kill someone who they knew would eventually be a threat to their cause. You are a chosen one; it is obvious to me.”

“And to you alone, priest! He is a lucky commoner who was healed by Shyann, and that is it!” spat Prince Nelstrom. “He is no chosen warrior! He has not even been trained at Annure.”

Jonas was so focused on what Manlin said that he ignored Prince Nelstrom’s outburst. The idea that he brought the destruction on his town and Landon’s caravan was too much to bear. His heart ached with guilt and his mind fled from the thought.

“And yet he can bring forth God Light. Can you explain that, my Prince?” Manlin said sternly.

Prince Nelstrom drew his sword and in a blur had its razor’s edge resting on the priest’s neck. Manlin’s eyes widened with fright and then refocused with determination.

“Don’t ever talk to me like that. I am your prince. Do you understand?”

The king stepped toward his son, sternly looking him in the eye. “Put your sword away, Son. We are all sorry for your loss. Torgan’s death has hurt me too, but it was not the priest’s fault,” the king said.

“No, it wasn’t. It was his fault,” whispered Prince Nelstrom, glaring at Jonas, his hatred so palpable you could almost feel it.

“No, it was a demon that killed your son. A demon that was sent by someone, someone that we will find,” the king said forcefully.

“A demon sent to kill Jonas. If he were not here my son would still be alive,” the angry prince countered.

Prince Nelstrom and the king locked stares for several seconds. Finally the prince removed his sword from the priest’s neck, sheathing it in one smooth motion. The prince glared at Jonas one more time, and what Jonas saw in those eyes chilled him to his bones. It was a look of despair and death. It was as if he were looking at the very thing that had killed his son. Finally, breaking his gaze, the prince stormed out of the room.

“How many of my friends died, sir?” asked Jonas quietly.

“Nineteen boys were killed, including Torgan. It was a grave night and Finarth will suffer for it for many years to come. Most of those boys were the elite of very powerful families, and all were young men, who no doubt would have become an integral part of the strength of Finarth. They all were a great loss,” stated the king solemnly.

Jonas turned his face away, trying hard to hold back the powerful emotions assaulting him as he thought about the loss of so many of his friends. He closed his eyes, fighting back the tears. Eventually anger and determination pushed aside his despair. After a few moments he opened his eyes, searching out Graggis who was standing in the back.

“Graggis, sir, thank you for coming to my aid. I would be dead now if you had not,” Jonas said.

“It is my duty. I am only sorry that I did not get there in time to save more of those boys,” Graggis replied.

“Sir,” Jonas directed his gaze to Manlin. “Do you really think that the Banthra that attacked my town was after me?”

“I don’t know, but remember, it is not your fault. We cannot control what evil things happen. We can only do our best to stop them. In fact there is irony in the good deeds done by others. When one does the bidding of righteousness, it attracts the eyes of darkness, which may bring more evil into the light. That, in turn, requires more warriors to fight it. It is a dangerous balance where light and dark are constantly struggling to push the other below the surface. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Jonas quietly.

Prince Baylin moved toward Jonas sitting on the edge of his bed. The prince wore a forest green tunic and black breeches. His muscled arms stretched the seams of his tunic. “Son, there is a problem,” the prince said softly.

“What is it?” asked Jonas sitting up higher.

“Although it is not true, many people here, including some of the apprentices and the families of the slain boys, think you are to blame, that you brought this evil upon us,” replied Baylin softly. “Everyone is talking about how you brought forth the God Light. They don’t understand it, and rightly so. When people don’t understand something, they fear it.”

“I see. In some ways I guess they are right. If I had not been here the demon wouldn’t have attacked, and all those boys would be alive. I should leave,” Jonas stated bluntly.

“It is not that simple, but,” he paused looking away briefly, “you can no longer train as a knight apprentice,” the prince said, bringing his eyes back to Jonas.

“But,” interjected the king, “I have sworn to protect you as my vassal, as you have sworn to protect me, and I do not take those oaths lightly. It is no fault of yours that tragedy has befallen us. In fact it is our fault. Allindrian warned us that this may happen and yet we did not take proper precautions. I am sorry for that. For some reason, someone, or something of great evil wants you dead, and I assume it has something to do with Shyann and her interest in you. I cannot have you stay here, nor can I send you away alone.” The king got up, pacing in thought.

“What should I do, my King? Tell me and I will do it. Many people have died because of me and I will not let their deaths go unanswered, nor will I be the cause of further unnecessary death. I am determined to fight this darkness, my Lord. Whatever evil fate awaits me, I will face it head on, alone if need be,” Jonas said evenly.

The king stopped and looked at him. Jonas noticed that he looked even more tired than when he entered the room. His weary eyes were laced with red, surrounded by dark coloring from lack of sleep. But they still held the intensity that Jonas noticed when first they met. “Well said, and spoken with courage, which by all accounts you do not lack. You are now seventeen winters, right, son?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In one year you will be eligible to apply for training as a cavalier at Annure. That means we need to find a place for you for a year. I will not abandon you. In fact, I am asking a favor from a friend that I have not seen in a long while, someone that can protect you and continue your training,” the king informed him.

“Father, of whom do you speak?” asked the prince.

The king, looking at his oldest son, took a deep breath. “Kiln,” he said bluntly

“What! Kiln? He left Finarth over fifteen years ago. Do you even know where he is?” asked Prince Baylin.

“Sir, with all due respect, Commander Kiln left your service in disgrace and without leave. He is not fit to protect Jonas,” added Lathrin, speaking for the first time.

“I agree, Father. The stories are old but if they are anything close to the truth then he is not fit for this task.”

“I know where he is located. He sends his men to the markets once a year. I have had trackers follow them over the years so I think I know his location. He was a good friend of mine…”

“A friend who left you and broke his oath. It is not right,” the prince interrupted.

“You do not know the whole story, son.” The king sighed heavily, “No one does.”

“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt, but who is this Kiln?” asked Jonas.

The king looked at Jonas. “Kiln was my general, Jonas. He was unbeatable. We were best friends that grew up together, but he was a commoner and I, of course, was not. We trained as knight apprentices just as you and Fil have. He is the best warrior I have ever seen, and his mind, as well as his body, is an instrument of war. I have never seen his equal with a blade. Anyway, when I became king I appointed him general first class, high commander of the Finarthian army. We won many battles together, fighting the orcs and ogres from the Tundrens, the bandits from Numenell and the raiding tribes from the Flatlands and the Sithgarin Desert. He simply did not lose. He became a legend, here in Finarth and all over Kraawn. Warriors sought him out, challenging him with blade and axe, but he was never beaten.”

“What happened to him, my Lord? Why did he leave?” asked Jonas.

“I think maybe it is not my place to tell that part of the story, but he left my service. I know the truth of it, but no one else does. He could not stay here any longer and he lost the taste for war. He traveled far to the lands in the east for several years before returning and hiding out in the mountains with the riches he had earned in my service, carving a life out for himself deep in the Tundrens. By all accounts he is a recluse, and keeps to himself.”

“And you think Jonas will be safe with him?” asked Lathrin.

“I do. He has at least ten men that work for him and I will send a handful of knights to stay with Jonas. Besides, Kiln can teach him things that we cannot.”

“Sir,” interjected Manlin. “It is obvious that Shyann, the Huntress, has marked this boy. That mark has put him in danger, a danger that all cavaliers know well. They are constantly hunted by the Forsworn, but cavaliers are trained for that, and this boy is not. I suggest that he stay with me in Shyann’s temple.”

“It is true that Shyann has marked him, but his presence here is a danger to everyone and there is no way that we can hide him from the populace for a year. The word would get out and there are some very powerful people that blame him for this tragedy. It just wouldn’t do to have him here.” The king looked back at Jonas. “Son, we have not asked you what you think. It is important that you have a say in your own destiny. What do you think?”

“Sir, what if Kiln will not take me?” asked Jonas.

“I will write a letter to Kiln myself, the contents of which will be more than enough to convince him to accept you in his care.”

“Sir, if you think it is a good idea then I will do it. I do not want to cause more problems here. I want to train to be a cavalier, and if going to stay with Kiln puts me one step closer to that goal, then so be it.”

“Then it is settled. Now we need to put together a team to take Jonas into the Tundrens.”

“I will head that team, Father,” ventured Prince Baylin crossing his arms and standing firmly. “After all, it should be someone from the royal family who presents the letter to Kiln. Besides, I was just a young boy when he left and I would like to see him again. I remember very little about him.”

“And I will be by your side, my Prince,” added Graggis.

“Good. Baylin, pick eight others from our knights. Pick men that have experience in the mountains, for the journey will be long and hard.”

“I will, Father.”

“Jonas, can you be ready in two days?” asked the king.

“Yes sir,” Jonas said confidently.