The Cavalier

Seven

Kiln



I can’t believe you’re leaving,” Fil said as Jonas pulled himself into his saddle. The king had given Jonas a glittering coat of chain mail and new traveling clothes of high quality. The new tunic he wore was blue with the symbol of Finarth embroidered on the chest. His black breeches were made of softened leather and his boots were made of the same material and of equal high quality. A gray wool traveling cloak draped his shoulders and at his belt was a long sword and hunting knife, all gifts from the king. His ash wood bow was strapped to the side of the horse next to a full quiver of arrows.

He had never worn such fine clothes nor had he ever received gifts from a king. It amazed Jonas at how fast things were changing for him. Just two years ago he was a cripple living in a small mountain town where he had traveled no more than a half day from where he was born. Now he was a traveler that could ride a horse, wield a sword, and use magic to some degree, not to mention he was receiving gifts from the king of Finarth. It was hard for him to believe. Even so, the cost had been steep, and he wished his mother could be here with him, to see him sit proudly on his steed.

“I will miss you, Fil. Good luck with your training,” Jonas said, reaching down and taking Fil’s hand in the warrior’s handgrip. Jonas was feeling very anxious at leaving his friend behind. They had been through a lot together and the parting was not easy. But both knew that they had different paths, at least for now.

The entire blue team was there to see him off, except for Bornius and Litus, who were killed by the demon. The other teams had lost more boys on that dreadful night. Jonas’s team was bunked closer to the south door which enabled more of them to get out before the demon tore into them.

Bornius’s death sat heavy on Jonas’s heart as the young man was kind and carried a lot of promise as a knight. They had kindled a strong friendship over the last year and he missed him greatly. Jonas felt guilty. He knew it was his fault that the demon had come that night. In fact he had learned that is was very possible that the deaths of his entire village were his fault, including his mother. High priest Manlin had suggested that that could be the case, that all the attacks that have occurred around Jonas had been directed at him. If that were true, although he was unclear why the Dark One would target him so, that meant that he had a lot of blood on his hands. He was carrying a big load of guilt on his shoulders and he didn’t know how to deal with his emotions. Mostly he was angry and a large part of him was glad he was leaving. He didn’t want to endanger anyone else, plus he wanted to move, to ride, to train, anything to occupy his mind away from the guilt.

The last week had been difficult for Jonas. He had wept for his friends that were killed and he was trying to deal with his friends who survived. Some were cold to him, obviously blaming him for the tragedy. Others, like Calden and his other teammates, were friendly and treated him with new respect. They asked him questions about the demon, his God Light, his meeting with the king, and where he was going.

Fil’s wounds were healing quickly thanks to Manlin. His shoulders were very sore and it would be several more weeks before he could start training again.

“You be careful, Jonas. Remember, I will not be there to watch your back,” Fil said with a smile.

“I will. I will see you soon, my friend,” Jonas replied, not really knowing if it were true or not. He was saddened to think of his journey without Fil. He had been with him ever since his mother died and the reality of his departure without him made Jonas realize how important he was to him.

Prince Baylin rode up to Jonas, addressing him seriously. “Are you ready, young Jonas?” he asked. The prince looked magnificent. He, too, wore the blue tunic of Finarth, but it was laced with silver and gold thread that glittered in the morning sun. A shining chain mail shirt and matching metal greaves and wrist guards completed his uniform. He was prepared for hard traveling, and hard fighting if need be.

His men rode up behind them all similarly outfitted. With them were Graggis and eight other men, all hard looking men who were forged from the many battles they had fought. Sal, the young knight that showed them around on their first day, was there and he nodded his head at Jonas as he rode up. There were also Jorm and Nogris, two brothers who were known for their woodcraft. They had been hunters and trappers as young men before they joined the Finarthian Knights. Next was Dagrinal, fourth lance, who rode up on a large and magnificent warhorse. The last four were all young knights recently accepted into the order. There was Largress, Togin, Gar, and Piap. Finally there was the king’s tracker, Beorth, who knew the Tundren Mountains intimately. He was dressed in light woodsman’s clothes and high leather boots. The horse he rode was smaller, lither, unlike the bulky horses the others rode. Beorth was outfitted with a long hunting bow and a thin rapier dangling from his hip. The man was thin and wiry, his un-kempt hair and beard giving him the look of a man from the mountains.

“Be careful, Jonas,” warned Calden, walking up to him to shake his hand.

“And you, my friend,” replied Jonas with a smile.

“Let us go,” ordered Prince Baylin riding forward followed by the rest of the men. Jonas smiled one more time at his friends, locked eyes with Fil, and rode off into the morning sun.

***

The first two weeks of travel were easy and without incident. The terrain made for easy travelling. Expansive meadows of grass with spotty patches of trees could be seen as far as the eye could see. The grassy hills they rode through were gentle and allowed the traveler a clear view of the expansive sky to the east and the craggy peaks of the Tundren Mountains to the west. They had headed south through the Finarthian hills and across the Bitlis River that flowed into the Sithgarin River, which meandered all the way to Lake Lar’nam. Jorm and Nogris, their scouts, always rode ahead of the group. Beorth rode with the main group and his knowledge of the area allowed him to estimate that they had about two weeks of travel before they would veer west into the Tundrens towards Kiln’s location.

***

They were resting one night around a fire they had built alongside the main road to Annure. The topic of discussion was how they would find Kiln’s location.

“Actually finding Kiln’s compound will be another story,” explained Beorth to the others as he sat on a log by the fire to eat his stew. “I do not know its exact location since we only followed Kiln’s men part way there.” Beorth was one of the king’s scouts who had been the given the task of finding Kiln several years back. “We will have to do some scouting to find it.”

“Understood. Nogris and I can help with that. It shouldn’t take us too long to find it if you can place us in its proximity,” mumbled Jorm as he shoveled hot food into his mouth.

Jonas smiled inwardly as he looked at all the faces sitting around the fire. He liked these men and he appreciated their help in getting him to this mysterious Kiln. These were men of honor and courage and he was enjoying their company.

“I hope my father was right and that the letter that he gave me will be enough to convince Kiln to give Jonas shelter,” added the prince.

“If not, we’ll just have to convince him,” added Graggis with a smile, patting his axe blade.

Baylin laughed out loud at the confident warrior. “Graggis, we were all young when Kiln was general. In fact we were not even of age to join the apprenticeship. Have you not heard the stories about Kiln the warrior?” he asked.

“Some, but I only know of the legend. And he is just a man. Legends are just that, fables and exaggerations to make people feel safe. I am confident my axe would prevail,” said Graggis as he drained the last bit of his ale.

“No, he is not just a man,” Baylin said seriously. “He is the best swordsman in all the lands, maybe the best ever. My father told me many stories about him when I was younger. It is said that he is a warrior unmatched, even better than both Master Morgan and Master Borum.”

“I don’t believe it. I had heard stories about his bravery in battle but I had not heard that he was marked as an expert swordsman,” interjected Dagrinal.

“He is not marked. I remember asking my father when I was a boy why he was not wizard marked. He said that Kiln did not believe in advertising ones abilities to one’s enemies. He also thought it was just arrogance to get the mark.”

“That’s why Dagrinal wants to be marked. He wants to impress the wenches at Pygon’s Inn,” Graggis said, chuckling.

“Prince Baylin, how do you know he is better than Master Borum? I had thought that no one could beat our weapons master,” asked the young blond warrior, Piap.

“Master Borum told me many years ago, and so did my father.”

“He sounds like an interesting man. I am looking forward to meeting him,” said Dagrinal.

Jonas looked around at all the faces and noticed Sal eyeing him curiously.

Finally the young knight spoke up. “So, Jonas, do you think you are a cavalier?” Several of the warriors glanced at each other, obviously wondering the same thing.

“Sal, I told you that you were not to speak of it,” said the prince with authority.

“I’m sorry, my Prince, but we are all wondering what he is, what he can do, and since we volunteered to protect him, I think it fair that he explain himself to us,” Sal replied, losing some of his steam as the prince’s gaze hardened.

Prince Baylin addressed Sal, a calm authority lacing his words. “Fair? You are a Finarthian Knight, you follow orders! You do not have the right to question….”

“Sir, it’s okay,” interrupted Jonas.

The prince stopped abruptly, swinging his gaze to Jonas. The weight of that look caused Jonas to look away like a scolded child. He was not used to

being in the presence of great warriors, let alone royalty and an heir to a kingdom’s throne. “I’m sorry for interrupting,” was all Jonas could mutter.

“Son, let me tell you something. It is not Sal’s right to question me, or any of his commanders. Sal is young and ambitious, but not wise in these matters. The chain of command must be followed at all times. If I specifically told them not to question you, then I expect that order to be followed. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, I do,” Jonas said.

The prince turned his piercing blue eyes to Sal. “Do you understand, young knight?”

Sal dropped his gaze, looking at the ground. “Yes, sir, I apologize.”

“Good, but with that said, I happen to agree with you both. The king ordered me to tell you all not to question Jonas, that it was his business, and that what had happened to him was something that maybe he didn’t want to continue to bring to the surface. But he said nothing about Jonas freely giving information. I agree with you, Sal. You all have sworn an oath to protect this young man, and yet you know nothing about him and what happened to him other than the rumors. So, young Jonas, I will not order you to tell the story since my father has forbidden it, but if you are willing, then I think they are ready to listen. What do you say?”

“Yes, my Prince. I will tell them,” Jonas replied.

All the men stopped eating and looked at Jonas expectantly. He began his tale as he had in the past. He was getting good at telling the story and the words flowed easily from his vivid memories, memories that, Jonas was afraid, had been burned into his mind. He ended the long tale with the attack of the demon and how Graggis had saved them.

“I guess you’re good for something other than belching, eh Graggis,” added Dagrinal, chuckling at his own remark. The men laughed heartily at the joke.

“You might have been there earlier to help if you hadn’t been so busy snoring,” said Graggis, throwing a small rock at Dagrinal.

“I was dreaming of your mother,” Dagrinal replied, smiling as he batted the pebble away.

Everyone laughed together and Jonas felt at home. The camaraderie of these men was contagious and it calmed Jonas’s turbulent thoughts.

“That is an amazing tale, Jonas,” said Gar, a quiet young warrior from Ta’Ron. “I am sorry for your losses.”

“Thank you, Gar,” added Jonas gratefully.

“Jonas, may we see the mark?” asked Sal.

Jonas shyly looked at the prince who nodded encouragement. He stood up slowly and took off his cloak, lifting his tunic and chain mail shirt over his head. He stood baring his chest in the cold night air. His muscled torso reflected the orange firelight and the God Mark could clearly be seen. The men moved closer, staring in awe at the beauty of the design. The silver edges of the mark glittered like diamonds.

“Jonas, have you looked at your chest lately?” asked the prince, eyeing him curiously.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“The mark seems to have grown since I saw it last, unless my eyes are playing tricks on me.”

Sure enough, the prince was right. Jonas saw that the mark had spread slightly over his shoulders and down his arms. It had almost completely covered his stomach and chest. The mark must have been expanding slowly as Jonas had not noticed it until the prince pointed it out. It was a piece of art to look at and even Jonas’s breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the symbol.

“It is amazing!” Sal exclaimed. “I have never seen anything like it.”

“It makes a wizard mark look like a child’s drawing,” added Dagrinal.

Self-conscious, Jonas put his tunic back on and sat down by the fire.

“Do you think you will become a cavalier?” asked Graggis.

“I don’t know. Shyann has a plan for me and I think the plan will unfold as she sees fit. I want nothing other than to be a warrior that fights against that which threatens us. I would like to be a cavalier, if that is my destiny.”

“It is a hard life, Jonas, never knowing where you’re going or where you’ll be. Forming relationships is almost impossible and the constant threats and challenges a cavalier faces can wear one down. It is a tough road to travel, and few can do it,” Prince Baylin said.

“I do not know you well, Jonas, but you seem a fine young man,” Graggis addressed Jonas seriously. “You are brave, and from what I’ve heard, do not lack skill. I saw you stand up to that demon with nothing more than a sword in your hand and courage in your heart. I think you’d make a fine knight, or cavalier, and Shyann wouldn’t have picked you if she didn’t think so too.”

“I thank you Graggis,” Jonas said modestly. He felt uncomfortable with the conversation and the focus on him, so he turned to Dagrinal. “Dagrinal, my sword training was cut short. Would you mind sparring with me when we have time? I would be grateful to learn from you.”

“It would be my pleasure, Jonas. Master Morgan told me that you were the best among the apprentices and you have potential to be a master swordsman.”

“I want to learn all that I can. I would appreciate your help.”

“How about now?” asked the tall swordsman standing up from the fire.

Jonas smiled. He stood up and drew his sword in response.

***

The terrain began to change as they headed farther west towards the Tundrens. Rolling grasslands gave way to forested hills, and the peaks of the massive range slowly grew larger. Their horses made good time through the grasslands but progress slowed as they moved deeper into the mountains. The terrain grew steeper and they had to carefully pick their way through rocky trails. Their pace was hampered as the horses stumbled occasionally, making the slow progress dangerous as well.

It was on the second night in the forested mountains that they sat around their fire to discuss how to continue their journey.

“Prince, I think it is time that we leave the horses. We will need to take to the game trails now and the horses cannot navigate them,” Nogris informed them, throwing more wood on the fire.

“Do you agree, Beorth?” asked the prince.

“Yes, my Lord,” affirmed Beorth. “I was going to suggest that myself.”

“Then so be it. Largress, Togin, I want you to stay with the horses until we return. We will need them to get back to Finarth.”

“Yes sir,” they both said.

“How long should it take us to reach our destination?” the prince asked Beorth.

“It is hard to say. It is summer so the trails will be open. We do not know the exact location so we will have to scout the surrounding area.”

“In your estimation, how long will that take?” asked the prince.

Beorth chewed on that question for a few seconds before responding. “Probably five or six days. Then it may take another several days to scout out Kiln’s exact location.”

“Okay. Largress, Togin, give us three weeks, one to get there, one to get back, and one for some extra time in case something happens. If we have not returned after three weeks then take the horses back to Finarth.”

“Yes my Lord,” they replied.

“Let’s get some sleep. We have a long hard trek ahead of us,” added the prince as he got up and moved to his bed roll. Jonas lay down on his own blanket and looked up at the mountain sky. He could make out pockets of the night sky through the dense trees. The stars sparkled in the clear sky as a soft breeze rustled the leaves. Jonas felt at home here, and he closed his eyes drifting off to sleep.

The next four days of their journey were more difficult, though there were no complaints from the hardy men as they carried their heavy packs over boulder strewn switchbacks. Jonas loved the strenuous activity and the landscape was breathtaking, reminding him of his home, or at least what used to be his home. The game trails were fairly clear and the summer sun kept things warm and dry. They slowly gained in elevation, continuing deeper into the mountains.

On the fifth day of their march they decided to camp next to a cascading waterfall that plunged heavily into a placid pool. On the far end of the pool the creek continued down the mountain, carving a shallow rift through the earth. Soft green moss covered patches of ground that otherwise was flat rock. The moss was thick, a perfect bed for their blankets. They lit the cooking fire and roasted some venison from a deer that Beorth had killed early that morning. They couldn’t carry the entire animal so they cut the choicest pieces, which were roasting over the hot fire. The fat, dripping into the hot coals, sizzled with small eruptions of delicious aromas.

Jonas and Dagrinal were sparring on a large flat rock that jetted out over the pool. The stone was over four paces wide and twice as long. Jonas had learned much from the warrior over the last couple weeks and they had quickly developed a strong friendship. Dagrinal emphasized to Jonas that good swordsmanship was a combination of balance, strength, and speed. He said that most men were lucky to possess just one of those characteristics, but very few possess all three in enough quantities to become master marked.

Jonas and Dagrinal circled each other, as they often did when sparring. Jonas lunged at Dagrinal, attacking him with lightning quick strikes, but Dagrinal was there every time to counter them. His agile footwork on the flat rock always kept him in the correct defensive positions. Dagrinal smiled confidently as he picked up his speed, changing from counters to attacks. Jonas backpedaled, trying to counter his impossibly quick moves. After various exchanges, Dagrinal smacked Jonas twice with the flat of his blade, once on the thigh and the other on his side.

Jonas lowered his sword in frustration. “I just can’t keep up. You’re too fast!” Jonas said with frustration, sweat dripping freely off his nose.

“Of course I’m too fast, Jonas. Don’t get frustrated. I’ve been using the sword for over twenty years. How long have you?”

“Almost two years.”

“Exactly. Listen, no one starts off an expert at anything. It takes time. You are by far the best swordsman I’ve seen for someone your age. You are better than most trained soldiers. It doesn’t matter how good you are, there is always someone faster, stronger, and more skilled. To you I seem unbeatable, but when I fight Master Borum, I feel just as you do now. Do you understand?’

“Yes, sir, I think so.”

“You need to remember, if you want to become a master swordsman worthy of the mark then you must also possess patience and tenacity.”

“I will remember that,” said Jonas lifting his sword again. “Let’s keep going.”

“You certainly have no problems with tenacity,” laughed Dagrinal, lifting his sword in response.

Suddenly Jonas felt the familiar sting on his chest. His eyes grew wide in alarm as he looked about frantically.

“What is it, Jonas?” asked Dagrinal with concern.

Jonas grabbed his chest feeling the familiar sting again. “We’re in danger,” he replied seriously.

Prince Baylin, who was sitting by the fire, hearing Jonas’s words, stood up quickly. “What is it?” he asked.

Jonas moved toward him quickly, scanning the forest surrounding them. “We’re in danger! Someone, or something, is coming!”

“To arms, men!” ordered the prince loudly.

Everyone reacted quickly, forming a hasty perimeter. Beorth, Jorm, and Jonas grabbed their long bows, nocking arrows and scanning the forest for any threat. Jonas’s heart was beating fast. He was frightened, not just for himself, but for these men who had sworn to protect him. What manner of threat was this? Was the demon back? That thought alone caused fear to explode inside him sending a deathly chill down his spine. His chest tingled one more time, this time more severe.

“I believe the threat is near, my Prince,” Jonas said, his voice quivering with fear. Dagrinal touched his arm lightly, reassuring him with his presence. Jonas looked at these men, all standing ready, swords and bows out, their intent eyes searching the forest for any threat. These were good men to die with if that was his destiny. He lifted his bow, searching the forest, trying to focus on something, anything other than his shaking bow arm.

Suddenly a huge boulder sailed through the air crashing into Nogris’s back. Jonas heard Nogris’s bones break and his body shatter like dry wood as it was launched into the water behind them.

Jorm screamed for his brother and everyone dove behind whatever cover they could find. But there was none. Several more boulders landed around them, crushing rocks, logs, whatever they hit.

Piap dove to the ground just as a huge rock landed on his right leg, crushing it into pulp. His screams filled the evening air.

Everyone looked on the opposite side of the little pool where the rocks had come from and saw three hill giants push through the dense forest. Each giant was more than twice the size of a man. They were thick and stout like trees and covered with coarse black hair. Their appearance was similar to an ogre, but Jonas thought they seemed less animalistic. Dirty furs draped their waists and they wore nothing on their thick calloused feet. They were human-like except for their massive size and the long canines protruding from their thick lips. Each of the giants carried a club that looked more like a limbed tree. With their strength and size they would be formidable weapons.

The giants growled ominously, stepping into the water and moving towards them with hunger in their eyes. Their long strides and height enabled them to push their large bulk through the little pool quickly.

“Form up, use the bows!” yelled the prince. The hardy warriors quickly reacted to the attack. Jonas, Beorth, and Jorm stepped to the edge of the rock face pulling their powerful bows back. The strong bent wood and taut bow strings sounded like the creaking of an old barn door. They fired at will, each arrow thudding into the thick hides as if they were hitting tree trunks. The arrows didn’t seem to slow them down much. In fact they looked like little needles sticking from their colossal bodies.

A crunching, cracking noise, like wood being split, alerted the prince that someone, or something was now behind them. Prince Baylin, Graggis, Dagrinal, and Sal all turned to face the new threat.

Three more giants pushed their way through the dense forest. They easily pushed the trees out of their way, the wood splintering like twigs. They lumbered into the clearing, logs in hand, eyeing the four warriors. One huge giant, easily several heads taller than the others, mumbled something unrecognizable. The deep baritone voice seemed to shake the ground they stood on. The other giants growled in understanding, approaching the warriors with saliva dripping from their mouths. Their intent was obvious.

Jonas had no time to wonder about the sounds behind him. He continued firing his bow at one of the giants. The twang of his bow sounded with each beat of his heart. His fourth arrow took the beast in the eye finally slowing it down. The giant roared in pain and swung its tree-like club into the water with frustration, splashing water all over the place as it stumbled around in the pool. They were only fifteen paces away now so the water splashed over the three bowmen. The flat rock they were on was a full pace above the pool’s surface, which put the giant’s heads even with the top of the rock. The giants would have to climb up the rock, which would expose them to an attack.

Jonas fired his last arrow into the stumbling giant before dropping his bow and drawing his sword. It was a good shot and the close range drove the arrow deep into the giant’s throat. The beast roared again, its anger apparent as it continued swinging its club wildly. The injured, and apparently dimwitted beast, swung its club at an unseen foe and hit a nearby giant in the side of the head. That giant stumbled, roaring in agony and grabbing his smashed and bleeding nose.

Graggis faced the giants, his axe held in front of him. His bulging arms flexed as he clenched the axe handle firmly in anticipation of battle. He smiled eagerly for the challenge. “Come on tree swingers; let’s see how you handle my axe.”

One of the giants stepped toward him swinging its thick club in a sideways arc. The giant was huge and strong, but not very quick.

Graggis roared defiantly, diving forward under the club, and rolling up right by its tree trunk legs. The bewildered creature looked down as Graggis swung his magical axe with all his strength into the beasts exposed thigh. The blade sunk in deep and blood erupted from the giant’s severed artery. The giant grunted in pain trying to bring the end of its club down on Graggis’s head. Graggis sidestepped, swinging his axe into the giant’s hand, the razor sharp blade severing the giant’s thick fingers. The beast dropped the log, roaring in surprise. The giant’s bloody fingers fell to the ground like thick summer sausages.

Prince Baylin and Sal flanked another of the behemoths as it stormed toward them. The screaming giant kicked out with its right leg trying to crush Sal. The beast’s huge foot glanced off of Sal’s side as he dove out of the way. Sal grimaced with pain as he felt several ribs crack. But he was a Finarthian Knight and it would take more than a couple cracked ribs to take him out of the fight. He landed, rolling back up into a fighting crouch just in time to see the beast’s massive foot descending upon him.

Suddenly the giant howled and its foot stopped as he stumbled backwards. Prince Baylin had struck the beast several times across the back of its hamstring, his magical blade slicing through the thick skin easily, scoring several deep wounds.

Dagrinal faced the third giant on his own. He slowed his breathing and calmed his beating heart as the giant bore down on him. Where Graggis fought with rage and power, Dagrinal fought with calm precision. He lifted his sword calmly and began his dance. His lithe strong body kept him constantly moving, his razor sharp sword inflicting numerous wounds, a blur of pain gradually slowing the giant. The giant roared in agony and frustration as it tried to crush the dancing swordsman. The beast bled from many gashes along its legs and torso but it still swung the huge club with power.

Beorth and Jorm also dropped their bows and drew their swords as the two remaining giants, riddled with arrows, moved towards the rock edge. The third giant had finally succumbed to the arrow in its eye and throat, sinking below the surface of the pool.

“Go for their arms as they try to climb the rock!” yelled Jorm. Beorth and Jonas readied their swords as the giants neared. One of the giants surprised them by throwing its club like a spear.

“Look out!” Jorm cried diving to the side. Beorth tried to dodge the log but it was too long. The heavy log clipped his shoulder sending him sailing into the air. Jorm looked up just as the second giant, its chest even with the rock edge, swung its massive club downward, hoping to crush the human who lay sprawled before him.

Jonas looked on with horror. He screamed loudly, willing the log to stop its decent. Jonas felt something shift within his mind, something that he could not explain. In a flash, he saw the scene in hues of colors; everything around him had a distinct glow, or aura. It was like a murky soup of color, everything connected somehow. Jonas didn’t know how, but as he willed the club to stop, it did. It was like all of Jonas’s will and desire flew from his mind and grabbed the club.

The giant’s club froze in mid-air as the giant looked on dumbfounded, not sure why its club wouldn’t move. Jonas stood with his sword in one hand and his other arm outstretched toward the immobilized club. He concentrated on the log, keeping it still. His head began to ache but he continued to focus on the club. He willed the log backwards, toward the giant’s face, and the log obeyed, smashing into the surprised giant’s nose. It was almost as if he were a puppeteer and the log was his puppet, connected by invisible strands of energy that only he could see and control.

Jorm was a warrior who had fought in many battles, and he learned long ago to never falter or think about one’s luck while fighting. He simply took advantage of the situation that was presented to him. He jumped up as the giant struck himself in the face with its own club, swinging his razor sharp sword across the throat of the bewildered creature. The blade hissed through the air slicing across the beast’s throat, parting it easily. Blood erupted from the wound dousing Jorm in red splashes. The dying giant stumbled backwards falling into the pool, turning the crystal clear water a crimson hue.

The bleeding giant fighting Graggis shuffled backwards, kicking out its massive leg trying to batter the man with the painful axe. Loss of blood had slowed the beast and its movements were clumsy, but it got lucky as its left leg clipped Graggis in the hip, spinning him backwards. Graggis gritted his teeth from the pain of the kick but managed to stay on his feet and hold onto his axe.

The giant took advantage of the small reprieve by reaching down with its good hand and grabbing its club on the ground. The huge creature lifted the club easily, chopping it downward, hoping to crush the skull of the man that had caused him so much pain. Graggis quickly regained his footing just as the club was descending toward him. As the club came down, Graggis bolted forward with his axe over his head.

“Ulren!” Graggis screamed as the giant’s club smashed into the ground, narrowly missing him, his axe head taking the beast in the groin. The magical blade bit in deep and the giant roared in agony. The giant dropped to its knees, never before feeling that kind of pain.

Graggis stepped back, yanking the blade from the grisly wound. The screaming giant brought both hands to its groin as its eyes rolled back in its head. Graggis growled swinging his mighty axe at the giant’s throat, which was now at eye level. His powerful swing brought the axe through the giant’s thick neck, severing it cleanly all the way to the beast’s spine. Thick red fluid showered Graggis as he stepped back, the giant falling backwards, choking on its own blood.

Sal and Prince Baylin were taking turns inflicting damage. Sal’s movements began to slow as his broken ribs were taking their toll. This giant was strong, and he was not giving up easily. Sal sliced his sword across the giant’s calf as the beast swung its club at Baylin. The blade stung the giant and it kicked its leg backward hoping to connect with the blonde human again. Sal’s tired body could not react quickly enough and the giant’s heel took him in the chest sending him sprawling to the ground. The wind was knocked out of him and several more ribs cracked from the tremendous force of the kick.

Dagrinal continued to enrage the bleeding giant he was fighting. The beast bled from dozens of wounds, none of them critical, but they were slowly sapping the strength from the behemoth.

Jorm, covered in the giant’s blood, turned to see the last giant climb up onto the rock ledge. Beorth, dazed from the thrown club, was slowly struggling to get up.

Jonas looked on as the hairy beast reached out with its gnarly hand, grabbing Beorth by the head. The man screamed as he was lifted into the air.

“No!” yelled Jonas, as he and Jorm bolted towards the giant with swords leading the way. The giant swung the screaming man at the charging humans. Beorth’s legs struck Jorm and Jonas solidly, sending them flying backward onto the hard rock. Jonas and Jorm looked on as the giant grabbed Beorth’s legs, his other hand still holding his head, and pulled with all his might.

Jonas tried to stop the giant’s movement, just as he had the club, but as he concentrated on the beast, his head exploded with pain, causing him to pitch over. He reached up, grabbing his throbbing skull, agony lancing through his head.

Beorth’s head ripped off like he was just a rag doll. Blood spewed from the headless body as it dangled in the roaring beast’s hands. The giant dropped the head to the rocks below flinging the lifeless body into the mountain pool.

Jonas struggled to get up and grab his sword, shaking away the painful pounding in his head. Jorm leaped up in anger just as a score of arrows mysteriously flew from the woods slamming into the giant. They both looked around, wondering where the arrows were coming from. The giant stumbled around on the rock; many arrows embedded in its flesh. Finally the sheer number of arrows ended the beast’s life, causing it to fall and topple off the rock ledge into the water.

The same fate awaited the remaining giants fighting Baylin and Dagrinal. Black shafted arrows peppered the monsters until they looked like pin cushions. They, too, stumbled around before finally succumbing to the massive amount of arrows and falling dead to the ground. None of the deadly arrows struck the tired warriors.

Dagrinal, Graggis, and Baylin slowly retreated backward towards Jorm and Jonas.

“What is happening?” asked Dagrinal, his crimson stained sword held before him. They were scanning the wood line before them, bloody and tired, but holding their weapons with determination.

“I don’t know, but if they wanted us dead then we would be. Lower your weapons,” ordered Prince Baylin.

After several seconds of waiting, a lone cloaked figure emerged from the trees. He wore a long green hunter’s cloak and his face was hooded in secrecy. He carried a long black bow in his right hand and a quiver of arrows was lashed to his back. “Who are you?” the man said in a commanding voice.

Prince Baylin stepped forward speaking with authority. “I am Prince Baylin of Finarth. These are my knights, along with a young knight apprentice.”

“You are a long way from home, Prince Baylin. What brings you here?” asked the bowman bluntly.

The prince gritted his teeth, not accustomed to such forward questioning, and took a deep breath. This man had saved their lives, and Finarth had no dominion over land this far into the Tundrens. “I am on the king’s errand, in search of a man. His name is Kiln. I have given you my name; it is customary to now give yours.”

The man slowly brought his hand up lifting off his hood. The warrior’s black hair was peppered with gray; his eyes were shadows and cold and his face looked as if it was chiseled from stone, with skin that was tanned and weathered.

As if on cue, eight more men silently emerged from the forest like wraiths. The sun was just beginning to set and the tree’s shadows covered the cloaked men.

“I am Kiln.”

***

It was hard for Jonas, watching Jorm grieve for his dead brother, seeing the pain that Piap was in, his leg crushed by the giant’s rock, and watching Sal grimace every time he moved. Again he felt like he was to blame. These men were here because of him.

Jonas’s head ached, a dull throbbing pain deep in his brain. Why was he able to stop that log and why did it cause such severe headaches? More questions that nagged at Jonas.

The newcomers helped bury Nogris and Beorth before the sun set and the darkness of night made it impossible to see. They dressed each other’s wounds next to a large warm fire built with the very clubs that caused so much destruction. Sal, Baylin, Jonas, Graggis, Dagrinal, and Jorm sat on one side facing Kiln and his eight woodsmen. They were all lean fighting men, most middle aged and several peaking even that.

After a quick meal of venison, cheese and water, Prince Baylin procured the letter that his father had written for Kiln.

“I thank you and your men for coming to our aid. How did you know we were here?” asked the prince.

“We did not. The giants have been getting bold and they have been raiding my cattle for food. We have been tracking them for several days and they led us to you,” answered Kiln, his voice low but resonant with authority.

“I see.” Baylin got up, handing the sealed parchment to Kiln. “Kiln, this letter was written by my father and given to me for safe keeping until I could find you. Now that I have found you, it is yours. It will explain our presence and our purpose.”

Kiln glanced at him curiously before breaking the wax seal and unrolling the parchment. The two groups of men glanced at each other across the fire as Kiln read the letter. Finally, after many minutes, Kiln lowered the parchment directing his cold gray eyes toward the prince. “Have you read this letter?”

“No, I do not know its content. My father said that it was for your eyes only.”

“I see.” Kiln directed his hard gaze at Jonas. “Let me see the mark.”

Jonas looked at the prince for affirmation. Prince Baylin nodded his head and Jonas lifted off his tunic and chain mail shirt exposing his bare chest. Jonas stood so that the mark could be clearly seen. Kiln and his woodsmen leaned in close staring at the extraordinary mark. Even in the darkness Jonas could clearly see their eyes sparkle with interest as they gazed at Jonas’s chest.

“You may put your shirt back on,” Kiln said, rolling up the parchment he had just read. “Son, I would like to hear your story. Would you mind repeating it to me and my men?”

“No, sir, I don’t mind.” And so Jonas began his long tale again. He kept it short and to the point, but he didn’t leave anything out. There was something in this man that required honesty and truth. He felt that Kiln would recognize a lie no matter how subtle. The story went on for many minutes before Jonas got to the part about their journey into the Tundrens to look for Kiln. “That is it, sir. That is what happened to me.”

“You’ve had it hard and I’m sorry for that, but it seems that you have been given a gift, no one can deny that. The king has asked that you stay with me for a year. Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know, sir. I don’t know you or your men. But the king is a good man and if he trusts you then I must as well. You are all putting your lives in danger for my sake and for that I am grateful. I will not be a burden, of that you can be sure,” answered Jonas honestly.

Kiln smiled at Jonas. “That is a good answer and one that shows honesty. You obviously understand that if I take you, that I put my men and myself in danger. That demon that attacked you will probably be looking for you again.”

“Yes, sir, I do understand. I will face my destiny alone if need be, but if people are willing to help then I will accept their generosity with my own sweat and blood as payment,” replied Jonas.

“Well spoken, and with courage, the latter of which you do not lack or the king would never have sent you here. Prince Baylin,” Kiln said, turning his attention to the prince, “do you wish to know the true story of what happened between your father and me?” asked Kiln.

“I do…sir,” replied the prince.

“Very well. Many years ago your father and I were knight apprentices together. We became good friends, the best, and when he became king he brought me up through the ranks quickly. I was the best commander in Finarth and when I was thirty years old he appointed me high commander of all the armies of Finarth.” Kiln paused slightly and then added. “What do you know of your mother?”

The question startled the prince momentarily. “She was a commoner, the daughter of a metal smith. My father met her in his twenties and married her a few years later. She bore him two sons, me and my brother, Prince Nelstrom. She died when I was six giving birth to my brother. I do not remember much of her.”

“Yes, that is mostly true. What you do not know is that I loved your mother with all my heart. I was going to marry her, but your father met her through me and fell in love with her as I did. This all happened after I was appointed general,” added Kiln, deep in thought as the memories came back to him.

“I do not believe it!” stormed Baylin, standing up defiantly.

“Sit down, Prince,” said Kiln coldly, his stern eyes penetrating Baylin’s fury.

The prince hesitated, and then obeyed, sitting back down.

“It is true,” Kiln continued. “Your father used his position to take her away from me. I could do nothing. I tried to uphold the oath I took to him and Finarth, but it was impossible. I could face anything in battle, but watching Cassandra with the king ripped my heart from my body every day. Then you were born and that caused more pain than I thought was imaginable. Cassandra and I still loved each other, but we tried to create distance between us so we could honor our oaths given to your father. But we couldn’t do it. One night, a great and terrible night, we came together in passion.”

“I cannot listen to this!” bellowed the prince, his anger taking over again.

“But you must. Your father asked it in this letter. He wants you to know the truth,” Kiln insisted. Jonas watched the prince pace back and forth before finally sitting back down on the log. “After dishonoring my position and my king, I left Finarth forever. I knew that I could never stay, that I could not control my love for her, nor hers for me. I broke my oath, and I will never forgive my weakness, but I believe that your father, my friend, broke his oath to me, the oath of friendship. He took the woman I loved, when he knew that she loved me more.” Kiln lifted the rolled parchment. “And I’m glad to finally hear the good king apologize to me, to recognize the wrong he did.”

Baylin looked directly at Kiln. “He said that in the letter?”

“He did. There is one other thing, Prince,” Kiln added.

“What is that?” Prince Baylin asked.

Kiln looked directly at the distraught prince. “Your brother, Prince Nelstrom, is my son.”

This time the prince didn’t get angry or emotional, he just sat staring at Kiln. “My brother is not my father’s son?”

“No, he was conceived the night I was with your mother. I did not know this until now.”

Jonas listened intently, things becoming apparent now. In his mind’s eye he pictured Prince Nelstrom, realizing how similar he looked to Kiln. The jet-black hair, the cold eyes and rock like features.

“I see,” replied the prince.

“It is my recommendation, and the king’s that no one need know about this. It would do nothing but cause scandal. Do you agree?” asked Kiln.

Baylin was looking into the fire deep in thought. Finally he directed his gaze toward Kiln. “I do. I would like an oath from everyone here that no word of this will be spoken,” Baylin commanded, addressing his men.

“Yes, sir,” replied Sal.

“You have my oath, sir,” stated Graggis.

“And mine,” put in Dagirinal.

“You have my word, my Prince,” stated Jorm with a nod.

“I will not say anything, sir,” added Jonas.

“Good. Now let us get to business. Will you take Jonas for the year as well as two of my men?” asked Prince Baylin.

“I must ask my men their opinion, Prince. I hold no dominion over them. Allowing the boy to stay will very likely put them in danger, which I will not do unless they agree to it.”

“I understand. Let us camp separately. You can discuss it with them and give me your decision in the morning.”

Kiln stood, as did his men, “Until the morning, then.” The men silently disappeared into the night making camp on the other side of the pool.

It wasn’t long before a fire could be seen glowing brightly on the other side of the water. Finally Jorm looked directly at Jonas asking him the question that had been nagging him ever since the fight.

“Jonas,” Jorm said, “I owe you my life and I thank you for that.” Jonas looked at him a little uncomfortably, knowing where this was going. “But, I don’t understand how you did it. How did you stop that log from crushing me?”

Jonas looked around unsure of how to answer the question. The others were looking at him as well.

“What do you mean, Jorm? Jonas, what happened?” Dagrinal asked.

“I’m not sure. One of the giants was going to crush Jorm with its club. I couldn’t do anything to stop him so I just screamed and willed the club to stop. And it did.”

“The club stopped in midair?” asked Graggis incredulously.

“It did,” Jorm added. “I thought I would be killed. Then the club just froze. And you should’ve seen the giant’s face. He didn’t know what was going on. Then the club flew back and smashed him in the face several times giving me enough time to get up and cut its throat.”

“How did that happen, Jonas?” asked Dagrinal.

“I don’t know. I saw Jorm about to die and something broke free within me. I felt it in my mind. I just willed the club to fly back and hit him in the face. I visualized it happening and it did. Everything in my vision blurred briefly, but I could still make out the scene, each shape was a different color and everything felt connected. It was just a flash as I willed the club to stop, then it went away and my head pounded with pain. I’m not sure why it happened.”

“I do.” Everyone looked at Prince Baylin who was staring into the fire. Finally he turned his dark eyes on Jonas. “You’re a cognivant.”

“What! You think so, sir?” asked Graggis.

“What is a cognivant?” asked Jonas.

“A cognivant is someone who can use their mind to do certain things. Each cognivant has different powers, some can levitate, control objects with their thoughts, or even read people’s minds. They are extremely rare, even more rare than wizards,” added the prince. “The elves call cognivants, IshMians. Not much is known about cognivants, but the elves believe that IshMians can access the Ru’Ach with their minds. They do not need words of power as a wizard does. We know very little about cognivant gifts, but their powers are usually limited to the skills that I mentioned. A cognivant’s power is known to surface around adolescence or times of severe distress, which would explain why it has surfaced for Jonas on both accounts.”

“Is that why my head hurts so much?” Jonas asked.

“I don’t know. I have never actually met a cognivant, but it makes sense that if your mind is the tool that accesses the power, that it may cause headaches, especially if the power has just surfaced and you have no practice with it. Maybe, as you learn to master this power, the headaches will go away, or lessen at least.”

“It seems you are gaining some powerful tools to battle that which threatens you,” added Graggis.

“Jonas, since we are talking about power, have you ever tried to heal anyone?” asked Sal.

“No, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“I think maybe you should try to heal Piap. He will not make the trip as he is I’m afraid. What do you think, my Prince?” asked Sal.

“I was thinking the same thing,” said the prince softly as they all looked at the bundled form of Piap.

He was wrapped tightly in blankets and his face was pale and sweating. The pain from his crushed leg had caused him to pass out and he was still unconscious.

“Jonas, I think you should try it. Piap will surely die if nothing is done,” stated the prince.

“I will do as you ask, my Prince. But I do not know what to do, or how to do it.”

“I have seen priests heal, and I even saw a cavalier heal once. They lay their hands on the injured and pray. I’m not sure what they said or did, but the wounds mended,” the prince said as he rose and approached Piap. He slowly un-wrapped the blanket from the dying warrior who moaned with pain as his body moved.

Jonas moved over to Piap looking down at the damaged leg. His entire knee and most of his thigh was smashed. It looked like someone had dropped a large rock on a giant tomato. The wound was horrible and Jonas knew that Piap would die if he didn’t at least try.

Jonas knelt by the man putting both his hands on his leg. Piap groaned with pain as he lay unconscious. Jonas began to pray to Shyann. He didn’t know what to say so he just asked for her power to save this man who had fought with so much courage.

Instantly, in his mind’s eye, he saw the interior of the damaged leg. The vision rose so quickly that he nearly released his grip. He could see shattered bone, ripped flesh, and torn tendons and blood vessels. He concentrated on putting the bones back together. He could feel his body grow warm as magic flowed into Piap’s leg. Jonas was ecstatic as he felt Piap’s bones begin to mend. He kept praying and sending Shyann’s power into Piap, visualizing the ripped and torn flesh healing itself. He didn’t know how long he prayed, but his body and mind began to tire and finally he released Shyann’s energy and fell over, nearly fainting. Graggis caught the young man as his eyes slowly fluttered open.

“Did it work?” asked Jonas in a whisper, his strength all but drained.

“It did. You’ve been praying for a long while. I think you need some sleep.” Graggis gently laid him down on the ground by the fire. Dagrinal brought him his bedroll, putting it under Jonas’s head.

“You did well, now get some sleep,” added Dagrinal with a smile. Exhausted, Jonas closed his eyes and sleep overcame him immediately.

***

Jonas’s dream came quickly that night. He found himself lying on the ground under a massive oak tree. The tree’s trunk was as wide as two men and its huge thick limbs reached towards the clouds majestically. Jonas slowly got up, looking around. The forest was thick and beautiful and smelt of summer. Sunlight shone through the dense tree limbs sending fingers of light to warm the luscious mat of moss and leaves that covered the ground. Little brown birds chirped and fluttered from branch to branch looking for food.

He stepped back to get a better look at the magnificent oak tree. It was amazing, colossal, and bigger than any tree he’d ever seen. The tree’s green leaves fluttered in the gentle breeze and the sound was mesmerizing. Jonas sensed a power, something old and natural. The tree hummed with energy, Jonas could feel it, although he wasn’t sure why.

“Do you like it?” a familiar voice whispered behind him.

Jonas turned towards the soft voice seeing the same female warrior that he saw in his first dream. This time she was wearing fitted black leather breeches and a flowing white blouse that clung to her graceful but strong form. Her feminine attributes were obvious to Jonas, but she also emanated regal power and strength. At her side swung a magnificent long sword and a hunter’s knife. She smiled warmly at Jonas, stepping closer to him. Her long black hair cascaded over her perfect features and her welcoming smile made Jonas feel safe. “Do you like my tree?” the lady asked again.

Jonas snapped out of his trance, answering her with awe. “I do, my lady. It is the most beautiful tree I have ever seen. Who are you?”

“You don’t know?” she asked boldly.

“Are you my goddess, Shyann?” Jonas asked dumfounded.

“Very good, my young warrior. It is good to see you again.” Jonas fell to his knees bowing his head. “Please get up, Jonas. I do not need you to grovel at my feet. I am no queen.”

Jonas lifted his head, slowly standing up. “But you are a god.”

“In a sense, although the words god and goddess were made by men. I may not be exactly what you define me as, but that is a story for another time, my young warrior,” Shyann said. “Do you know why I cured you, why I marked you and why I have helped you along your travels?”

“I do not…my…”

“Just call me Shyann.”

“I do not, Shyann,” Jonas said softy.

“You have a pure soul. Your heart is pure, as Airos told you. Do you know how rare that is?” she asked.

“I don’t,” Jonas replied.

“Extremely rare, almost non-existent. There is evil growing in Kraawn, Jonas. The side of the righteous needs a new hero, someone pure of heart and soul, someone who can’t be corrupted by power and greed, someone like you, Jonas. Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“You have lived up to all my expectations, and then some. I am glad that you are here with Kiln. He can teach you much. Will you fight this evil with me? Will you serve the forces of good?”

“I have desired this my whole life. I want nothing more than to battle this evil and bring your light to where it is needed.”

“Good. Keep training. Practice with the sword. You will grow stronger and I will grant you more power as your body and mind gain in strength and wisdom. Be ready, for I will call upon you again.”

“I will be ready, Shyann. Thank you for your faith in me.”

“No, Jonas, thank you for yours,” she said smiling. Her body began to glow brightly and Jonas had to bring his hands to his face to shield his eyes.

***

Jonas awoke early in the morning, his eyes wide, his body rested and rejuvenated. He felt like he had slept for a week. He felt more at ease than he had in a long time. Shyann wanted him to serve her, to serve something big, something important; he knew that now. He smiled; his purpose was clear, and it made him happy. He had never had any goals, any real reasons to get up in the morning, but now he did; now he could do something that would help Kraawn. Not only was he healed, but now he could help heal the lands he lived in, and that made him happy.

It was still early, the sun not yet over the mountain peaks, the gray morning quiet as the forest animals slept. Jonas buckled on his sword belt and walked down toward the creek that flowed from the southern end of the pool through a beautiful clearing filled with wild mountain flowers intermingled with large flat rocks.

As Jonas neared the clearing he saw a man, wearing only his breeches, balancing on his head, his knees resting on his elbows. His bare chest was broad and muscled and covered with coarse black hair.

As Jonas got closer he realized that it was Kiln. He sat down on a rock, about twenty paces away, and watched Kiln balance, not moving a muscle, his eyes closed. Jonas couldn’t believe the man’s concentration and balance.

After about a half an hour of standing on his head, suddenly Kiln’s eyes flickered open and he pushed up with his arms so that he was balancing just on his hands. Then in one smooth motion he flipped up to his feet, slowly standing up straight, his posture perfect.

“You have patience, young man, to sit there for so long to watch a man do nothing,” Kiln said casually as he approached Jonas. Kiln walked with the grace and dexterity of one much younger. His shoulders were wide and his arms strong and muscled, his powerful chest tapering to a small waist covered with bands of muscle.

“You knew I was here?” asked Jonas.

“Yes, in that meditative state I can see most things around me.”

“But your eyes were closed.”

“You can see with more than just your eyes,” Kiln said.

“What were you doing, sir?” Jonas asked with interest.

“That is called the Ty’erm. In the Sharneen language it means ‘the position of power’.”

“Who are the Sharneen? I have never heard of them,” asked Jonas.

“They are a foreign people that live far to the east. Their lands border the Sithgarin. They are a nomadic people that live for war and conquest. I spent several winters with them after I left the service of Finarth.”

“What does this Ty’erm do?”

“It is used to sharpen the mind and body. You practice calming the mind and body so that you can focus and see things as they are. Some Sharneen priests use it to get closer to their gods. I found that it works well in combat.”

“How, sir?”

“You like to ask questions, don’t you, boy?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but this interests me. If it helps in combat then I would like to learn it.”

Kiln stared at Jonas as if he were trying to look inside him. After a few seconds of silence he answered Jonas’s question. “In the state of Ty’erm you can control your mind and body, slowing everything down. Your senses are heightened, improving reaction time, strength, and enabling you to react with instinct and not emotion. It is a mental exercise that I’ve practiced for many years. I can now do it at will.”

“Can you teach me this?”

“That depends. You must be mentally strong and very patient. It takes time to master.”

“I see,” Jonas said, pausing and looking back toward the camp in hesitation. “Sir, what did your men say about granting me asylum?” Jonas asked slowly.

“What do you think they said?” Kiln replied, redirecting his question.

Jonas thought about it for a moment before answering. “I think they said yes.”

“Why would you say that?” Kiln asked again.

“Those men would follow you to the front door of the Forsworn. I could see it in their faces; and I think you want me to stay, which means they would agree to it.”

Kiln stared at Jonas for a moment before lifting the edge of his lip in a slight smile. “You are a good judge of men, Jonas. You’re right. We have agreed to take you for the year, but it will not be easy. We work hard, and life here is difficult and dangerous.”

“I am a hard worker, sir, and I will not shy away from danger. You can count on me,” Jonas replied with sincerity.

“I believe that I can. That is why I chose to accept you. Besides, there is something bigger going on here, something bigger than me and my men, something that includes you. I have been secluded for a long time. I think it’s time to come out of hiding.”

“Sir, will you teach me to fight and to master this Ty’erm?”

Kiln looked at Jonas with his cold gray eyes, his face a mask of stone. Jonas wondered what he was thinking. “I will, young man.”

***

Jonas felt like a ball, which had been bouncing around from place to place, from one group to another. The last two years had been a whirlwind of danger, death, sorrow, friendship, and excitement.

He was sorry to see Dagrinal, Graggis, Sal, Jorm, and Prince Baylin go, but he was happy that Piap, now healed, was able to walk on his own. Jonas felt good about healing him, although he still needed much training to master the technique; but it was a start. He tried his healing again on Sal’s ribs and it went a bit faster and it didn’t seem to drain him as much. He could not tell if it was because he was getting better at it, or that Sal’s wounds were not as serious, but either way, it made Jonas feel better that both the men would be walking home more comfortably.

Kiln agreed to take Jonas with him, but Jonas only. They would not take any of Prince Baylin’s men, a subject that caused a brief debate. They did not have room for more men and Kiln felt that the king’s warriors might cause conflict within his group. In the end, Kiln and his men left with only Jonas.

His new comrades led him many miles deeper into the Tundrens, until they entered a small narrow belt of rolling hills that Kiln called Shadow Valley, since most of it fell under the shadows of the tall Tundren peaks. It was beautiful though, the undulating hills of the valley covered with lush green grass and wild flowers. It was here where Kiln raised his cattle.

They meandered through the valley until they neared Kiln’s home. The structures were simple; one large house built of stone and thick lumber sat in the middle of a flat clearing surrounded by four smaller stone and thatch roofed cabins. There was also a large wooden barn and several fenced areas containing sheep, goats, and chickens. It was a farm, similar to farms that Jonas had seen, but as they neared the structures, Jonas noticed some small differences. Each building was built of solid stone and thick rough cut timbers. The support beams that held up the roofs were massive and thick, capable of withstanding deep heavy snows. Also, each window had shutters made of solid wood laced with iron that could be shut from the inside. The doors were all oversized and made of stout thick wood connected with black iron. Kiln and his men had obviously worked very hard over the years to build this farm, and Jonas was impressed. The Tundrens were dangerous and it became apparent to Jonas that these men were ready to confront whatever threat faced them.

There were eight men that lived and worked with Kiln. Kiln’s foreman was an older man, in his late fifties, named Lambeck. Jonas learned that Kiln had met Lambeck many years ago at Numenell and that Kiln had acquired his services as a scout. Lambeck had been in trouble with the law and he took Kiln’s offer with relish, but considering the payment that Kiln offered, he would have taken the job regardless. Lambeck had gotten in a bar brawl in a small village on the outskirts of King Gavinsteal’s lands and accidently killed a young man. He was found guilty by the local magistrate. It turned out that the lady he was courting that night was the daughter of the magistrate, and that the young man who attacked him was the man her father had picked for her to marry. Luckily for Lambeck, the young lady rescued him that night and he fled as fast as he could. That was many years ago and he ran into Kiln soon after, forming a bond of friendship immediately. They had a lot in common when they met. Lambeck was running from the law and Kiln was just running, trying to get away from his previous life. They traveled together and as a team they were unstoppable. Lambeck was a master scout and woodsman and his skill with the bow was unmatched.

There was also Jondris and his younger brother Lark, who were both outlaws from Finarth. They had been arrested for stealing the king’s cattle fifteen years ago, but they escaped into the Tundrens. The king’s knights hunted them for a while but later gave up as the two brothers were forced to hike deeper into the Tundrens, where Kiln found them. Kiln enjoyed the irony of hiring two thieves who stole from the king. They were good men, who had experienced hard times and needed to eat. Kiln would not condemn them for trying to survive.

Diomond was a tall barbarian from the Highlands. He was of the Veor Tribe located in the Highlands southwest of Tarsis. He was cast out from the Veors after he had fought with the battle lord of his tribe. Their rules are harsh and their justice even harsher. Diomond had gotten drunk and tried to bed the battle lord’s sister. She slapped him and in Diomond’s drunken state he hit her back. The battle lord was furious and demanded a bare handed feud fight, which was his right. If you lose a feud fight, then you were banished from the Highlands forever. The battle lord was called the battle lord for a reason; he was the best fighter of the tribe. Diomond lost the fight and left his tribe, never to return, wandering the countryside, until he ran into Kiln ten years ago. Diomond was gigantic, almost seven feet tall, and his long blonde hair framed a weathered tanned face.

The other four were recent additions to the group, all wandering vagrants and displaced farmers that now stood as tall proud men. Kiln gave them purpose and confidence, and he taught them how to fend for themselves. They all loved him as a father and great friend. There was Ballic, Corman, Wil, and Anders. Anders was only twenty one years of age, the youngest and newest addition from Finarth.

Jonas enjoyed his time with these tough mountain men, and Shyann was right, Kiln had a lot to teach him. Jonas continued to thrive on the strenuous activities, and the work on the farm made him think of his mother, which usually brought smiles, but sometimes tears. He spent many hours with Lambeck training with the bow, and with Kiln working with the sword. Lambeck was the most incredible archer he had ever seen. In three seconds he could place three arrows in the same hole at eighty paces. He taught him many techniques on speed, breathing, and how to make proper bows and arrows. Jonas loved it and he learned, as Fil had told him a year ago, that he was a natural. As his strength increased so did his speed, power, and accuracy, and it wasn’t long before he could hit a fleeing rabbit at fifty paces.

Kiln was an anomaly to Jonas. On rare occasions he could be jovial and fun, but most of the time he was cold and seemed to lack emotion, especially when he fought or trained. It was several months before Jonas even touched a sword. They spent the early mornings running through the mountains. Jonas could not keep up with Kiln, which surprised him. Jonas thought he was in great shape and that he would be able to outrun a man who must be in his early fifties. He was mistaken. Kiln moved quickly through the mountain trails, and his powerful legs carried him up the rocky steep terrain like a mountain goat. But Jonas struggled on, keeping within eye sight of the warrior at all times. His legs gained muscle and his strong lungs could keep him running all day. Kiln taught Jonas how to strengthen his arms and legs and how to stay supple and flexible as his muscle mass grew. Kiln would push him until he was exhausted, and it was in this state where he taught him the skills of Ty’erm.

One early morning they ran to the edge of a rock cliff and below them they looked down at Shadow Valley. They had been running for two hours, and Kiln had pushed him hard, running up steep slopes for most of the exercise. Jonas’s legs burned with the exertion as they stopped at the cliff edge, both sweating profusely and sucking in deep intakes of fresh mountain air.

“Well done, Jonas. You have been working hard. Now, let us try Ty’erm again,” suggested Kiln, sitting on the smooth stone.

“Sir, why do we keep practicing Ty’erm when I am exhausted? Wouldn’t it make more sense to try something this difficult when I’m rested?” asked Jonas, sitting down near Kiln.

“Jonas, to achieve the mental state of Ty’erm, you must be able to focus without distraction. When you are exhausted, your brain tries to shut down, which means you are concentrating on less, enabling you to enter the state of Ty’erm more easily.”

“I see,” said Jonas a little frustrated. They had been practicing the mental exercises for two months now and Jonas had seen little progress.

“Jonas, don’t forget that it takes most people many years of practice to enter Ty’erm. You are progressing quickly, much faster than I had anticipated. Now get into position.”

Kiln easily lifted his body into a handstand, balancing smoothly for several moments with his eyes closed. Jonas too lifted his body with his strong arms, holding the position, his eyes closed, concentrating only on his body. They had been practicing core strength exercises for several months. Kiln showed him various positions that helped stretch, strengthen, and relax the body. Jonas’s balance and strength improved immensely and he could now hold the handstand for a while with little shaking.

Finally, Kiln spoke softly. “Now drop into the position.” Kiln and Jonas both lowered their bodies smoothly until their heads were resting on the ground and their knees dropped to balance on their elbows. “Now, concentrate on your breathing only. Just focus on your breathing until your mind is free.”

Jonas thought of his breathing, each breath coming in and out. He focused on his chest expanding, over and over again. Don’t think of anything else thought Jonas, just breathing in and out. He had gotten this far before but usually his mind began to drift to other things and he could not enter the meditative state. This time he began to feel different. He went inside his body and saw his lungs expand slowly as they filled with air. He saw his blood flow through his arteries and feed his muscles. He concentrated on slowing his heart rate and breathing, so his body could enter the relaxed state needed. He saw his heart beat slowly, pumping blood through the various chambers, and willed it to slow down even more. It did, and his body relaxed, his mind seeing only blackness.

Jonas lost track of time, but eventually he began to see a light, and he followed it. His vision began to clear and he saw himself on the rock ledge, in the tripod position, Kiln next to him. He was assaulted by all the sounds and smells that he didn’t notice before. He felt invigorated and alive. He could hear the ants crawling around the rocks and he could smell the pollen on the bee as it flew overhead. It was an incredible feeling and Jonas didn’t want it to go away.

But it did, and in a flash. One minute he was seeing and hearing everything, and the next he was slammed back into his own mind. The conscious link he had achieved to Ty’erm was tenuous, and it had come and gone quickly. His eyes fluttered open adjusting to the morning sun that was now rising over the tall snow covered peaks. Jonas lifted his body in the air flipping down into the sitting position that Kiln had taught him, both legs crossed and his back straight. He was looking right at a smiling Kiln who was sitting similarly.

“You were out for quite some time,” Kiln said.

“Really? It didn’t feel like it. I felt like I could barely hold on to it.”

“You will have more control as you practice,” Kiln promised.

“It was amazing, Kiln. I did it. Not for very long, but I did it! It was the most incredible feeling,” Jonas said excitedly.

“I know. Wait until you can do it at will. We will keep practicing, Jonas. You have done well.”

“Thank you, sir, for teaching me,” Jonas replied, his eyes sparkling with joy.

***

Many weeks went by, but for Jonas it felt like he had lived with this group of men his entire life. He felt so at home with these men that it was hard for him to imagine not being with them.

Kiln stepped up his training and they began to use practice swords. Kiln did not believe in using wooden swords for he felt they did not have the weight and feel of a real blade. Kiln and his men trained often and they had long ago taken two swords and dulled the edges and blunted the tips so that they might use real steel.

Dagrinal was right, there is always someone better. Kiln was the most incredible swordsman he had ever seen. Jonas was not sure that even Allindrian could beat him. Kiln fought with sword and dagger for he was ambidextrous, just like Jonas. Kiln urged him to spar with two weapons, which of course, was much more tiring and difficult. Learning to fight with two blades was like starting all over again. They would spend every morning running, stretching, and meditating, while the afternoons were spent working the farm and tending to the cattle. The evenings were used for sword play, which Jonas enjoyed the most. He excelled quickly. His tenacity and drive to work as hard as he could pushed him to gain new abilities and skill. Jonas learned quickly and after a year of training he could best everyone, except Kiln.

***

It was a cold night and Jonas, Kiln, Lambeck, Diomond, and Anders all sat by Kiln’s hearth sipping a thick coffee from Annure. They could only get the coffee once a year when Kiln’s men made the long trip, so it was rationed out sparingly, usually on cold winter nights. The rest of the men were already in their cabins tucked into their warm beds.

Jonas had yet to bring up the fact that he was a cognivant. He had enough on his mind already without trying to worry about that, but he felt that this was the time to talk about it, and maybe these men would know something about it that might help him.

“Sir, do you know anything about cognivants?” Jonas asked.

Everyone looked at Jonas, wondering what would bring up a question like that. Kiln took a sip of his coffee and said, “Why?”

“Well…” Jonas paused taking a sip of the warm black drink. He had always been direct and truthful so he figured why stop now. “I am one.”

“What! You’re a cognivant?” asked Lambeck skeptically.

“I am. I found out during the fight with the giants last season.”

“How did you learn this?” asked Kiln, now interested.

“I stopped one of their clubs in mid-air and forced it back into its face,” Jonas replied, remembering back to the fight.

Kiln took another long sip of his coffee while the other men looked at Jonas with wonder.

“What else can you do?” asked Diomond.

“I don’t know. I haven’t tried anything. I was hoping that someone might know something about it. I’m not really sure what it is.”

“Cognivants are called IshMians by the elves. They are extremely rare and they can be very powerful. This is indeed a useful weapon if you are so gifted,” Kiln said.

“Try to move something,” Ballic suggested.

“I don’t know. I have never tried it since the battle, and that just sort of happened,” replied Jonas taking another sip of his coffee.

“Move my cup,” Kiln said, setting his empty cup on the table.

“Really, you want me to try?”

“How else will you know what you can do?”

“Okay, I’ll try,” Jonas said, setting his mug down and staring at Kiln’s cup across the table. He slowed his breathing, concentrating on the mug of coffee. He imagined the cup lifting in the air. He kept looking at it but nothing happened.

“Look at the cup and imagine that you are actually lifting it. Pretend that your hand is touching it, and that you can lift it. Try again,” ordered Kiln.

“Okay.” Jonas thought back to the fight with the giants and tried to remember how it happened. He and his friends were in danger, and it was the threat that awoke the power within him. He thought about what it felt like, and what he saw in his mind’s eye when the power erupted.

Jonas looked again at the cup, visualizing his hand reaching across the table and touching the mug. He slowed his breathing down like he had been taught and focused on the energy to lift the cup. In a flash he could see in his mind the energy between him and the cup, and he could touch the energy with his mind. It was a strange realization as Jonas suddenly made sense of what he was seeing. Everything around him was made up of the same energy, everything was touching everything. With that thought in mind he lifted the cup in the air holding it two feet above the table. The four men looked on with eyes wide.

“Now, move it about the room,” ordered Kiln quietly.

Jonas concentrated on the connection between his mind and the cup. In his mind’s eye the link was energy that he could actually see, just like he did during the fight with the giants. Jonas knew that no one else could see the link, but he could.

Jonas’s head began to ache slightly as he concentrated on the spinning mug. He spun the cup through the air easily. It whipped around the room with great speed before he brought it right above Diomond’s head.

“Don’t even think about it, Jonas,” Diomond said playfully as he kept his eyes on the cup above him.

Jonas smiled and set the cup back down on the table. He had a slight headache and he absently reached up to rub his temples. Everyone looked at Jonas and grinned with excitement. It was infectious and so he forgot about the minor headache and smiled back.

“Gentlemen, we are in the presence of an IshMian,” declared Kiln grandly as if he were introducing royalty.

***

The wound in the Greever’s chest had healed, but it had taken a long time. The beast would not forget that magical axe that had cut through its muscle and bone. It had been a long while since the demon felt that kind of pain, but it would take more than that to stop the hunter. The demon feared nothing, except for its master, Gould the Tormenter.

The Greever also knew that the man who had summoned him, if you could call Malbeck a man, was Gould’s general in this world. The beast knew that its master had plans for this pitiful plane of existence, and that this powerful man, or demonoid, for he was definitely part of the evil that created him, was its master’s link to this land called Kraawn.

Malbeck was furious that the Greever had not accomplished its task. But instead of sending the demon back to finish the hunt, he had sent the Greever on another hunt, one that it relished. This new task promised the beast plenty of blood; blood that tasted better than most since it pulsed with the white light of the Ru’Ach. The demon loved the feeling of that pure light being extinguished by its claws and teeth. These were hunts worthy of its powers.

***

“Alright, Jonas, try and stop the rocks as we throw them!” yelled Lambeck as he and Kiln gathered up a handful of stones about thirty paces away.

“Okay!” Jonas yelled back beginning to calm his mind. It was easy for Jonas to concentrate on one stone and stop it, but it got more difficult when he had to concentrate on several.

They had been practicing his IshMian skills trying to figure out the extent of his power. They had learned quickly that it was a skill, something that required practice and mental strength. They also learned that his power was also tied to his ability to enter Ty’erm. As that skill progressed, so did his IshMian powers. It was like his brain was a muscle, the more he used it the more power he could draw upon. Any expenditure of this power caused him headaches, and the greater the use of the power, the greater the severity of the pain. It was difficult to do it quickly but he was getting stronger and faster the more he practiced.

Jonas had learned the hard way that if he tried to focus on each object individually that he couldn’t stop them all. He still had several bruises on his body from stones that made it through his mental barrier. Jonas had learned that he could actually create an invisible wall of energy that could block a larger amount of objects. It was a strange feeling for Jonas, one that he couldn’t really explain. He began to learn things about the world that were strange concepts to him. In his mind’s eye he could see that everything had its own energy, including the air that connected everything together. Jonas thought that he must be actually seeing the Ru’Ach, the energy of all things. That is how he could control objects and even people, he learned. With his mind he could actually touch everything around him. The farther away the object, the harder it was, the more objects there were, the harder it was. The more powerful the person, the harder they were to control, which caused more severe headaches. If he used his skills for a long duration, or concentrated heavily on something large or far away, it would also cause him severe headaches. They got so bad a few times that he collapsed in pain, his head swimming with dizziness. It was a powerful skill but not without its drawbacks.

The rocks flew in quickly, one after the other. Jonas held up his hand and concentrated on creating an invisible wall of energy. In his mind’s eye the particles in the air in front of him spun into a translucent wall of force, and the rocks smacked against it silently to fall to the ground. He could have held them in the air but it would have taken more energy, and caused a more painful headache. The rocks kept flying and Jonas continued to hold up the energy barrier.

Jonas smiled inwardly, thinking back at the rocks that had broken through his barriers in the past, and came up with an idea. He concentrated harder as more rocks flew at him. He held a handful in the air until Kiln and Lambeck exhausted their collection. It was a strange sight to see ten rocks floating in the air as if they were stuck in something. Jonas smiled outwardly sending a burst of energy into the rocks. They bolted back towards Lambeck and Kiln like they were flung from a sling. He could have directed the rocks anywhere he wanted, but he didn’t want to cause them too much pain.

The look on their surprised faces was payback enough when the rocks flew back towards them. They both turned covering their heads as the rocks landed around them. One hit Lambeck in the leg and a second smacked hard into Kiln’s back. Jonas laughed out loud at the two men who were cowering like children.

“They sting, don’t they?” laughed Jonas as both the men stood up glaring at him. Soon his laughter was contagious and both men were fighting back smiles trying unsuccessfully to look mad. Jonas’s head ached from the exertion but it didn’t stop him from losing himself in laughter. It had been a long time since he laughed like this and it felt good. It wasn’t long before everyone was laughing, the sound bringing warmth to the chilly mountain air.

Jonas continued to work on his skills as a cognivant, and his training with Kiln and Lambeck progressed daily. He continued to grow in strength and confidence. His body was lean and hard; any residual fat long ago burned from his muscled frame. He could now fight for a long while before Kiln was able to score a hit with either of his blades.

Jonas had thought himself good with a bow, but after training with Lambeck he realized that he was just a novice. Lambeck continued to teach him how to track and survive in the wilderness and how to shoot with speed and accuracy. He had set up a training course for Jonas to help sharpen his skills. There was a trail through a thick neck of woods near their home and it was here that the archer set up a shooting course. He made human targets out of old clothes and straw and positioned them in various concealed locations. He was able to rig a couple to spring up on bent sticks that he would trigger by releasing various ropes. They were crude set ups but they were adequate enough for the element of surprise.

But for other simulations he had Ballic, Anders, Wil, and Cormac help by positioning themselves behind various large trees, randomly holding out training dummies as Jonas moved through the course. They complained bitterly about the job, not thinking it wise to be holding targets for Jonas’s arrows.

“What if he misses?” asked Ballic as he reluctantly took position behind a nearby tree. He held a crude bust of a man on the end of a long thick stick.

Lambeck laughed handing Cormac his dummy. “Keep your arm behind the tree and it won’t matter.”

“Easy for you to say since you’ll be safely out of the way,” muttered Ballic.

“Don’t worry, the arrows don’t have barbs so we can withdraw them easily enough,” Lambeck said, continuing to goad the young men.

Lambeck got everyone positioned behind various trees and bushes and ran back to where Jonas was waiting at the head of the trail. “Okay, Jonas, nock an arrow and proceed when I yell it’s okay. I’m going to get in position now.”

“Very well,” Jonas said, adjusting the quiver on his back.

“Remember, quick shots. Do not wait to aim. Practice on visualizing the target and releasing the shaft in easy fluid movements.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

With that Lambeck ran back down the trail taking up position behind some bushes. He had three different lengths of ropes on pulleys that all converged on his position. He could release any rope at any time and a dummy would spring up along the trail near Jonas.

Jonas lightly moved down the trail, an arrow nocked and angled to the side, eyes searching the area for targets. It was only a sloppy training course, but nonetheless Jonas’s pulse began to race and his heart was pounding in his chest. He took several deep breaths trying to calm his nerves. And of course that is when the first dummy sprang up behind some bushes.

Jonas pivoted smoothly to the right, drawing back the string and firing quickly at the moving target. Since the bust was on a bent stick it continued to sway back and forth after it was released. Jonas’s arrow seemed to be on target but the dummy was shaking so badly that it missed it by a finger’s length. Jonas swore softly, quickly drawing another arrow and launching it towards the target again.

Just as he released the second shaft he heard movement to his left. He kept moving forward as he drew again, pivoting to his left and finding his target. He released the shaft, shuffling forward to take cover behind a tree. He knew that in a real combat situation the enemy might be returning fire and that it was important to take cover when it was available.

Lambeck had taught him to always move, always look for cover. Never stay in one spot, even if it was only a few feet to the left or right. If you are stationary you offer an easy target for an enemy. Sometimes the difference between life and death was just inches.

Jonas glanced back at his first target noticing that his second arrow was embedded in the dummy’s chest. He drew another shaft, nocking it quickly before stepping from behind the tree and moving quickly but surely down the trail. The second target he had hit swayed gently back and forth and Jonas noticed that his arrow had stuck into a wood branch under the bust. He swore softly as it was not a killing shot. It would have hit a man in the groin or a leg, enough to maim him temporarily, but not necessarily enough to take him out of the fight.

But Jonas had gotten control of his nerves. He was focused, his heart beat smoothly, and his bow arm was steady. Slowly he breathed, his eyes scanning the forest in front of him like those of a hunting cat.

Right in front of him, no more than five paces away, sprung a third dummy. Jonas drew back firing just before he dived to his right over his shoulder so he wouldn’t damage his bow. In the real world an enemy that close would surely have a weapon with which to fire, so any hesitation would have cost Jonas his life. His aim was true and his arrow hit the bust dead center, penetrating all the way through and disappearing into the woods.

But Jonas didn’t have time to relish his skill as the two trees in front of him came alive with movement. He noticed two different dummies peek out from behind the tree. They did not extend very far from the protective cover of the tree, which caused Jonas to chuckle slightly as he thought of the complaints from Ballick and the rest of the men who were charged with holding the dummies.

Jonas fired quickly, shuffling forward so as not to stay stationary, and drawing another arrow. His first arrow took the closest dummy in the face, but just as Jonas fired his second arrow the last dummy ducked back again behind the safety of the tree. Jonas’s arrow flew by harmlessly as the dummy popped back out on the other side. But Jonas had already strung and drawn back a third arrow just as the dummy reappeared. Jonas’s bow twanged as the shaft was released. The range was close and the arrow slammed into the bust knocking it from the grasp of whoever held it. Jonas heard a surprised yelp from someone behind the tree and he guessed it was Anders.

Then Jonas heard a screaming charge from behind him.

Jonas spun, simultaneously drawing another shaft, and saw a wooden bust of a man running at him with all speed. The dummy was made of planks of wood and it came complete with outstretched arms, legs, and even a head. It was made extra wide so the person holding the dummy from behind was completely shielded.

From the sound of the scream it must have been Lambeck. He was only ten paces away and charging him with wild abandon. Jonas released the shaft, smiling at the satisfying thunk the arrow made when it struck the dummy dead center.

Jonas’s eyes grew wide as the dummy kept coming. Hastily he fumbled for an arrow and got it nocked and drawn as the wooden dummy slammed into him, sending him flying backwards to land on the soft leaf covered ground.

The wind was knocked from his lungs and he was gasping for air struggling to get up. The wood dummy appeared above him just as a foot came down on his chest, pinning him to the ground.

Lambeck popped his head out from behind the dummy smiling down at Jonas. The other men had emerged from their concealed locations and surrounded Jonas with equally beaming smiles. They seemed to enjoy Jonas’s precarious position, as if they had been there themselves, which Jonas reasoned they had.

“What did you just learn, Jonas?” Lambeck asked.

“That a man is not dead until you know he is dead?” Jonas replied finally reclaiming his breath. The men around him laughed at the joke.

“Exactly. A charging man may not fall with one shot. I’ve seen men die from just that scenario because they assumed the dying man was out of the fight. To their own demise they learned that lesson the hard way.”

“Good lesson, Lambeck. I will remember it,” Jonas replied, getting up from the ground.

“Well done, though. Good movement and foot work, and your aim was true, except the first shot. What happened there?” Lambeck asked.

“I was shaking, nervous anticipation I guess.”

“That happens. The only way to get rid of that is through experience, and the only way to get experience is…”

“To survive!” all the men, including Jonas, said in unison.

Lambeck laughed with the men, enjoying the camaraderie together.

Jonas was also taught how to shoot from a galloping horse. They spent many evenings hunting wild boar and deer and hiking the mountain trails that spider webbed the peaks around them.

It was on one of these excursions that Jonas, Kiln, and Lambeck came across some tracks that worried them. They had been hunting for several days in the mountains when Lambeck, who was in the lead, motioned for them to stop moving and be silent. He squatted down, inspecting something on the ground. Kiln, who was just behind him, moved up slowly while Jonas scanned the open grasslands that blanketed the tall peaks. The scenery was filled with meadows of grass and wild flowers, dotted with pockets of trees and surrounded by boulder strewn cliff faces. They were high in the Dragon Spine, a small range of jutting peaks that Kiln had named many years ago. A fitting name thought Jonas, for the sharp peaks looked like the spiked spine of a dragon. It was a difficult climb that took them several days but it was one of the best locations to hunt the nimble footed mountain goats.

Kiln moved up beside Lambeck to see what had grabbed his attention. On the ground was a series of impressions that crossed the game trail, disappearing into the tall prairie grass that draped most of the high mountain landscape. They were tracks that looked like human feet but much larger and tipped with claws.

“Fresh tracks, maybe an hour old,” Lambeck commented, tracing the outline with his finger.

“Gnoll track?” asked Kiln, his expression cold.

“Yup. Must be some of One Eye’s vermin,” replied Lambeck.

“This far east? Seems unlikely,” Kiln replied in thought.

“It’s been a hard winter, maybe it’s a hunting party looking for food, or even a raiding party finally getting bold enough to claim our cattle and attack us.”

Jonas quietly moved next to the duo to find out what was happening.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Gnoll tracks,” replied Lambeck.

“Way up here?” questioned, Jonas. Just two years ago Jonas would not even know what a gnoll was, but he had learned at Finarth that they were tall furry creatures with dog-like snouts and mouths filled with sharp teeth. They spoke a guttural language and sometimes allied themselves with orcs or goblins. They were strong and formidable warriors but not very common.

“We’ve long known of a band of gnolls living several days west of here. The group is led by a big gnoll that we call Chief One Eye. It’s a small group that has not ventured close to us, as of now anyway. These tracks were probably made by a scout.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Jonas.

Kiln looked at Lambeck and smiled. “We follow the tracks and kill them.”

“Just the three of us?” Jonas asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

“More than enough for gnolls,” Kiln replied, standing up confidently. “Lead the way Lambeck.”

Lambeck guided them for several hours, stopping now and again to inspect a blade of grass or a smudge on a moss covered boulder. The clues were invisible to Jonas, but not to Lambeck, who was the best tracker in Kraawn according to Kiln.

It wasn’t long before Lambeck, who was a good fifteen paces in front of Kiln and Jonas, suddenly crouched, his body tense and alert, and motioned for Kiln and Jonas to stop. Lambeck slowly lifted a hand, drawing forth an arrow from his quiver and silently putting it to string.

Jonas and Kiln followed suit, scanning the countryside around them. They were standing in a beautiful meadow and just beyond them was a small glade of trees into which Lambeck was staring intently. It was dusk and the sun’s rays were beginning to disappear behind the tall Tundren peaks, casting shadows and pockets of darkness within the stand of trees. Lambeck scanned the pine trees for several seconds; Jonas’s heart was beating faster as the tension within him grew.

Then Lambeck motioned for them to follow slowly, advancing into the thicket of trees. As they moved into the glade, Jonas picked up the sounds of guttural laughter and growling ahead of them. He glanced at Kiln who obviously heard the noise as well. The sounds got louder as they quietly made their way through the pine trees. The ground was littered with a soft bed of pine needles that cushioned their footsteps, making their approach perfectly silent.

They moved up beside Lambeck who was squatting down behind a fallen log. The noise was now very clear, sounding like a large group of men talking and laughing, except in a language that Jonas could not understand and in voices that were deep and raspy.

Jonas and Kiln joined Lambeck, following his pointing finger with their eyes through a hole in the tree branches. Below them, in a moss covered clearing surrounded by trees and rocks similar to the ones that they now hid behind, were a group of mountain gnolls sitting around a small fire. Jonas had never seen a gnoll before and he stared at them with wonder.

They were built like men, but much bigger with bodies covered in dark brown fur. Their arms and legs were thick and strong and they stood on fur covered feet with toes capped in wicked claws. Their hands were also human-like, but with longer fingers tipped with sharp claws. Odd pieces of clothing, furs and leather, and miss-matching pieces of plate mail adorned their tall frames.

But it was their faces that held Jonas’s attention the most. Their heads were large and bony, with sloping foreheads and dark beady eyes sunken into a jutting brow ridge. Long snouts covered with short hair gave them a look similar to dogs. Yellow teeth lined their dangerous looking jaws, and the sounds that emerged from the beasts were loud, deep, and guttural. Gnoll features were all very similar and it was hard to tell them apart.

Jonas noticed that most of them carried swords and long crude spears. The ugly creatures brought a shiver of fear to Jonas as he looked down upon them. They were eating large chunks of cooked flesh that they were pulling from a side of beef that was roasting on a spit over the fire.

“What do you want to do?” whispered Lambeck, looking at Kiln questioningly. All three of them dropped down behind the log to quietly discuss their plan.

“There are fifteen of them,” Kiln said softly. “They are eating my beef which gives me reason enough to deal with them. Besides, they are more than likely a scouting party. We must take care of them,” Kiln said, looking at them both, his eyes intense and determined. “Jonas, you ready to test your skills?”

Jonas looked at them both, seeing already that they had made up their minds. “We’re going to attack all of them?” he asked.

“We are. I feel bad though, doesn’t seem fair does it?” replied Kiln with a smile as Lambeck let out a choked laugh.

“We’re just going to kill them?” asked Jonas.

“Jonas, they are gnolls,” Kiln said as if that was enough to condemn them. “They would attack and kill you in your sleep if they could. And it would be you over that roasting pit instead of my cattle. This group probably has orders to steal my cattle and to do reconnaissance on our home. It is a scouting party that is probably going to report back to One Eye with information on how to attack us. We cannot let that happen. It is better to attack this group now, while we have the advantage, and potentially stop any future attacks against us.”

“Well, if you put it that way,” Jonas said with an unconvincing smile as he began to pull arrows from his quiver. He tried to show some bravado but inside he was shaking with fear. He had never really fought anyone, or anything, in a premeditated fashion before. Any combat experience he had was derived from defending himself from attacks directed at him. It was one thing to fight back on instinct, but quite another to plan an attack against an unknowing, and formidable opponent. “What is your plan?”

Jonas silently crept through the trees, moving from trunk to trunk to get to the left side of the glade. Luckily for the men the gnolls were in a clearing that was completely surrounded by rocks and trees, and in the dead of night the three warriors could easily flank the scouting party. And the air was still; no breeze this night that would alert the gnolls with their smell, especially over the intense aroma of the cooking meat.

The plan was simple. On Kiln’s signal they would pepper the group with arrows from above and then move in quickly in the confusion and finish them off. Jonas was nervous; his heart was beating loudly in his head. But he also felt an excitement, a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he thought about the battle to come. These beasts were gnolls, evil by nature, and it was a similar evil that had destroyed his town and his friends in Finarth. They were here to do them harm, and Jonas would not let that happen. At least that was the rationalization that Jonas used to convince himself as he neared his position on the left side of the glade.

He moved up behind a large rock and looked down into the clearing below him. The gnolls were about forty paces away, separated from the men by a gentle hillside of rocks and trees. It was a perfect spot. Jonas could fire his arrows into them and then leap down the boulder strewn hillside into the clearing with his sword in his hand. These beasts were huge and ominous, but Jonas had trained hard and he was ready. He was confident in his skills and eager to test them, but nonetheless his heart still beat with nervous energy and his hands were shaking. Jonas took a deep calming breath and withdrew three arrows from his quiver, leaning them against the rock that hid him. Then he nocked a fourth. He would need to make his shots count so they could even the odds before they jumped into the clearing with swords drawn.

Jonas looked down at the large creatures, waiting for the signal. He glanced at the gnolls nearest him picking out his targets. He remembered Lambeck’s teachings and began to take slow deep breaths, calming his nerves so that his aim was accurate.

He leaned out, spotting his first target. There was a large gnoll who had his back to Jonas ripping off a piece of flesh from a bone he was holding in his greasy clawed hand. The thing’s thick neck was exposed and that was the spot that Jonas focused on as he drew back his long bow. He breathed slowly, looking down the straight shaft and focusing on the little spot at the base of the beast’s skull. The signal would come soon, and Jonas waited, concentrating on the task at hand. Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing and heartbeat. It took him a few seconds before he was in the state of Ty’erm. His eyes fluttered open and everything was much more acute. He could hear the crackling fire as if it was right next to him and all the sounds and movements seemed slow in his mind.

Suddenly a gnoll howled, falling into the fire with a dark shaft protruding from the back of its head. The rest of the gnolls stood still, staring at their comrade in shock as his face burned in the hot fire.

Jonas released his shaft, reaching down quickly and sending two more arrows whistling into the night as his first arrow hit its mark. His target arched backwards, a bloody shaft erupting from its throat.

Everything happened quickly as arrows rained down on the beasts. The surviving gnolls immediately grabbed their weapons, leaping away from the fire to face the invisible threats around them.

Jonas pulled back his long bow sighting in his last target, a tall gnoll who had leaped up from the fire and drawn a wicked looking serrated sword. The beast roared defiantly as he ran toward the rocks where Jonas was hiding. Jonas looked down the shaft, leading the beast as Lambeck had taught him. He let out his breath, releasing the arrow smoothly. The arrow took the gnoll in the chest launching it hard onto its back. He was out of the fight, permanently.

One of the gnolls was not as stupid as the rest and it quickly grabbed a dead comrade throwing the body on the burning fire. Immediately the fire was smothered and the glade was blanketed in darkness.

Kiln released his last shaft as the light disappeared. The stars were out but the trees surrounding the glade blocked much of their bluish glow, making it very difficult to see if his arrow had hit his mark. He swore softly, drawing his long sword and hunting knife. Gnolls can see in the darkness, but he and his men could not. “Jonas, we need light!” Kiln yelled across the clearing.

Jonas had just drawn his long sword as Kiln screamed across the glade. Light, they needed light. Jonas had not drawn forth any light since the fight against the demon in Finarth, but they needed light now and so he had to try. Jonas prayed to Shyann and asked her for strength to fight these foes. He prayed for her light and concentrated on bringing it forth, just as he had when he fought the demon.

Jonas felt warmth rise up within him as Shyann’s power instantly erupted from his body. It felt like he was filling up with light and all he had to do was let it loose, and that is what he did. White light burst forth from his body slamming back the darkness in the clearing. His God Light was so bright that it easily covered the entire camp site.

The remaining six gnolls shielded their eyes from the light as the three men jumped down from their hiding spots.

Lambeck had seen more than fifty winters but he was still in better shape than most men half his age. He had fought in different places all over Kraawn and he had been a hired tracker and hunter his whole life. The elements in which he lived had forged him into a tough fighting man and the gnolls below would not deter him.

He jumped easily over fallen logs and rocks with his long sword in his right hand. Jonas’s light clearly lit the scene for him and he thanked him silently as he charged the nearest gnoll.

The beast was covering its eyes with its hairy forearm and in its right hand was a large war axe. The gnoll was temporarily blinded but he was still able to make out the leaping form of the man attacking him from the woods. He got his axe up just in time to block the downward strike from his assailant, but he couldn’t block the man’s booted foot as it kicked him directly in the groin.

The gnoll howled in pain, instinctively lowering its axe and grabbing its injured crotch. That split second action was the gnoll’s last as he looked up just in time to take the swordsman’s blade in the face, splitting its shocked expression in two.

Kiln’s location was about five paces above the ground. He was hiding behind a tree that grew from the edge of a small cliff overlooking the clearing. It was a long drop, but Kiln was in the state of Ty’erm and he moved with the agility of an acrobat.

He jumped off the small cliff, landing hard in the clearing right beside two unsuspecting gnolls. As he landed he rolled forward, bracing and cushioning his fall. The roll took him right by one surprised gnoll who was holding a spiked mace in his hand and was turned away from Jonas’s light. Kiln came up to his feet smoothly, his long sword whistling in the air, slicing into the gnoll’s arm as the creature brought it up in front of him to block the lighting fast strike.

The second gnoll recovered quickly from Jonas’s light and swung its heavy broad sword at Kiln’s back. Kiln knew the gnoll was there and sensed the beast’s attack. He ducked under the heavy blade, stepping backwards into the beast, simultaneously reversing his grip on his knife and slamming the razor sharp blade into the belly of the gnoll as the beast stumbled forward. The knife sank in deep and Kiln spun away, ripping the sharp knife through the gnoll’s bowels as he used his deadly long sword to spear the other injured gnoll right through its left eye. Both gnolls fell to the ground dead as their crimson blood dripped freely from Kiln’s blades. If you blinked twice you would have missed the kills.

Jonas jumped from boulder to boulder, his agility bringing him easily into the clearing. His body glowed brightly and the two gnolls in front of him stepped back from the light.

One gnoll, in desperation, flung its war club at Jonas, trying to extinguish the painful light. Jonas had only a split second to react, using his cognivant powers to stop the club just before it hit him in the face. He focused on the club, wrapping it in energy. It floated in the air for a moment before Jonas used his mind to reverse the direction of the club, sending it somersaulting back towards the astonished gnoll. He felt the familiar dull ache in his head as he used his powers, but it would not be enough pain to significantly affect him. The club hit the gnoll in its forearms as it brought them up to deflect the weapon.

The second gnoll, still slightly blinded by the powerful light, lunged forward, jabbing at Jonas with a long spear. Jonas, trained by the best warrior in Kraawn, reacted on instinct. Instead of retreating, he swayed to the side spinning around the spear point toward the enraged gnoll. The beast’s eyes grew wide in astonishment as Jonas, using the momentum of his spin, swung his sword through the air, slicing a shallow cut across the gnoll’s forehead. The creature stumbled backwards, frantically trying to wipe the blood away from its face as it poured into its beady deep-set eyes. But Jonas did not let him go that easily. As his sword sliced across the beast’s forehead he used his left hand to yank the spear from the wounded gnoll’s grasp. As the blind gnoll stumbled backwards, Jonas spun the spear in his grip so the tip was pointing toward the beast, and jabbed the long weapon forward, lancing the gnoll in the throat.

Jonas pulled out the spear point and the dying creature fell to the ground just as the second gnoll recovered from Jonas’s initial attack and tried to run away into the protection of the night. Jonas spun the spear around again so that the bloody point was facing the fleeing beast. He used his long arms and powerful legs to throw the spear with all his might. It was a left handed throw, but the distance was not so great.

The spear shot through the darkness, hammering into the beast’s back. The power of the throw launched the gnoll to the ground and the dying beast slowly tried to crawl into the cover of darkness. The doomed creature made it about two paces before the fatal wound took its toll and it dropped face first in the dirt.

Jonas spun around to survey the scene. It was all over in a matter of seconds. Kiln moved toward him calmly holding both his blood-covered weapons. Lambeck was busy searching the dead gnolls and yanking his arrows from the corpses.

“Nice work, Jonas. Your light saved us,” Kiln said. Jonas let the light draw back into him until it was nothing more than a slight glow surrounding his body. “Can you hold the light a bit longer while we get the fire lit again?”

“I can.”

“Lambeck, get the fire going and let’s get these bodies dragged out of the clearing. I’m hungry and my beef smells good.”

***

They saw no more of One Eye’s warriors, but nonetheless Kiln made sure that the areas surrounding his home were scouted regularly. They also had to continue surveying their cattle to make sure no more animals were being stolen.

With all of this happening, Jonas’s training continued. Kiln began to train him in hand to hand fighting. Jonas had learned a little during his time with the knight apprentices, but again he realized the hard way that he was still just a novice. He spent many evenings training with Kiln and the other men, and most of his time was spent flying through the air to land hard on his back.

Kiln was unstoppable, his speed and strength with the sword carried over in hand to hand combat as well. It was the Sharneen, a war-like tribe that lived far to the east, who had taught Kiln their secrets of combat. Kiln explained to Jonas that they were a small people, slight of build, with narrow eyes spaced wide, but they trained their bodies to have great power and speed. Kiln learned much from them, and they from him. He trained their chiefs in formation fighting, while they taught him secrets of the blade and hand to hand fighting. These were the secrets that Kiln now taught to Jonas.

“Jonas, the key is balance. Always be on the balls of your feet, so you can move quickly in either direction. You want to use an opponent’s energy and momentum against them,” Kiln explained. “If they punch you, don’t retreat or shy from the punch as most fighters do. Move into the punch and redirect their energy so you are in control.”

Kiln showed Jonas how to redirect an attack to one’s advantage. He taught him how to throw an opponent and how to immobilize him with wrist locks, submission holds, and pressure points. Jonas learned that there was a difference between fighting to avoid hurting someone, and fighting to maim or kill an opponent. Jonas learned that the throat, groin, sternum, kidneys, and joints were the locations to direct an attack to completely disable an opponent.

Kiln built a wooden frame of a man for Jonas to practice his strikes. He taught him how to strike without hurting himself, how to use his palms, the sides of his hands, his shins, knees, elbows, and forearms as weapons. The strikes hurt at first, but after a while the pain subsided as his body adapted to the hits. After months of training he began to build up calluses from constantly hitting the wooden dummy. Jonas’s powers were substantial, but they had their limits, therefore he was happy to learn any skill that would help him survive.

“I think I will have to make a new wooden dummy for you,” commented Kiln as he walked up to Jonas. Jonas had been practicing on the dummy for an hour and he was sweating heavily. The dummy was indeed in bad shape; the wood had taken a beating, especially in the strike points that Jonas constantly worked. Months ago his hands would be bleeding, but not now. They were strong, the striking areas covered with thick skin. He stepped back from the dummy and took a long drink from his water skin.

“Your form has improved,” Kiln complemented Jonas.

“Thank you, sir,” replied Jonas as he set the water skin down. His upper body was bare and there was a layer of glistening sweat that covered his lean muscular torso. His God Mark shone brightly as the mountain sun reflected off the silver and blue etchings. It had grown some, now covering most of his torso.

Kiln sat down on the wood fence that penned in his sheep. “Do you know how long you’ve been here, Jonas?” he asked softy.

“Yes, sir. I have been so absorbed in my training that time has meant little to me. Do you want me to leave?” asked Jonas, wondering where Kiln’s questioning was going.

“You have been here for over two winters, Jonas, surely you know that.”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Do you not want to go to Annure as you previously planned?” asked Kiln in a fatherly voice.

“I do, sir. I know I’ve been here longer than was previously arranged. It’s just that I’ve never felt more alive and at home than I do here, with you and your men. I do not want that to go away.”

“I see,” Kiln said with understanding. “I, too, have enjoyed your company, and your friendship. You are gifted with skill and power that I’ve seldom seen. But it is not your destiny to stay here secluded in the mountains with me. Take it from someone who knows, seclusion does not solve your problems.”

“I know, sir. I have known that all along. I guess that is why I was trying to stretch this time out as long as I could. I know that once I leave here, that my life will be filled with constant struggles.” Jonas wiped his dripping brow with his hand and looked up at Kiln, his long sweaty brown hair glued to his forehead, and his deep brown eyes filled with emotion.

“I understand. Are you afraid?” asked Kiln.

“I am, but not for me. I’m not afraid to die, I realize that now. I should have died years ago with my mother.” Jonas hesitated for a moment. “I’m afraid to fail. I’m afraid I am not strong enough to serve Shyann. I’ve been weak my whole life and this power is new to me. I wonder if she picked the right person.”

Kiln laughed and shook his head. “Jonas, trust me. She picked the right man. You have a pure heart. I’ve been around fighting men my entire life, and believe me, she did not fail in her choice. You are on your way to being one of the best swordsmen I have ever seen, and you have powers that will get you through the tasks ahead. I can feel it.”

“Sir, do you have faith in the gods?”

Kiln paused for a moment before answering. “I have faith in myself and my friends, nothing more.”

“I see. Do you ever feel like praying?”

“Jonas, the gods are real, I will not deny that, but I question many things, all of which keep me from praying to anyone. I rely on myself. My success or failure will fall on my shoulders only. Praying means you are relying on others. That can be dangerous for a warrior. Do you understand?”

“I do, but what things do you question?” Jonas asked, leaning on the railing as he put on his cotton tunic.

“I question the gods’ motives. Who they are and what they want. The world we live in can be a terrible place. I have seen awful things and I wonder why the gods would allow it. Why does a poor farmer, who can barely feed his family, slaughter a lamb before and after the farming season as a gift to his god? Does his god require it? If so, why do they not help these people live a better life? There are many things about religion that makes no sense to me, Jonas.”

“Perhaps the gods don’t have the power to change everything.”

“Maybe, but why do the priests preach the opposite. And why do many of these same priests live a pampered life in their big temples paid for by the coin and sweat of the poor. The system is corrupt, Jonas, and I will not give my allegiance to a god that allows that to happen.”

“Maybe the gods don’t have total control over what happens here. Maybe corrupt men created the corrupt system, not the gods. Maybe the gods struggle to do right in this world, but their power is not inexhaustible. Or maybe they allow man to do as he will to test his character. Shyann is good. I can sense it, feel it, everything about her resonates hope and courage. Isn’t that something to believe in?”

“For you, yes, she chose you to help her. I believe she chose well. But there is no place in my heart for the gods. Besides, there are too many maybes in your argument. I believe in what I can see and hold in my hands, my friends, honor, courage, and my sword. I do not deny the god’s existence or their power, but their purpose and their role in our lives is unclear to me. And until I have clarity, I will continue to pray to no one.”

“I see. It is a difficult topic of discussion. As you said there are many unknowns when it comes to the gods. But I feel good about believing in something other than my sword and myself. I am Shyann’s ally against evil. Shyann’s purpose is linked to mine, I can sense it, and until I feel differently, my sword will uphold her will.”

“I respect your principles, Jonas. As I said, Shyann has chosen well.”

“Thank you, sir. I owe much to you. You have taught me things that I never dreamed of knowing.”

“I want to thank you too, Jonas,” Kiln replied.

“For what?”

“For awakening a part of me that was dead for many years. I tried to escape something that I couldn’t face. I tried to bury a part of me that has always burned like an ember deep in my soul. I am a warrior Jonas, pure and simple. My skills are being wasted away in this mountain retreat because I was not strong enough to face my fears. I do not want to die up here. I want to die with my sword in my hand. You have made me realize this, and I thank you for it.”

Jonas smiled warmly at Kiln, unaccustomed to seeing any hint of emotion in the hard man. “I knew you were not all ice and muscle,” grinned Jonas.

Kiln smiled and stood up. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.”

“A reputation that I will have to repair when I leave here with you,” Kiln said seriously, the hint of a smile slowly emerging.

Jonas looked at Kiln in surprise. “Really! You’re going to leave with me?”

“I am. As soon as this winter is over, we leave for Annure.” Now Kiln was smiling openly, and Jonas couldn’t help but laugh in excitement.

***

The winter was long and cold and Jonas grew frustrated as he was not able to train as usual. He continued to hunt the forests around him with Lambeck when the weather permitted. There were no more gnoll signs, and the winter days melted away without any major incidents.

He exercised with Kiln inside the barn, keeping their muscles strong, and training with sword and fist. But he felt locked up, not being able to run the hills and climb the steep cliffs that surrounded them. At the same time, Jonas was excited because each day took him closer to when the snows would subside and he and Kiln would venture out into the unknown.

***

When that day arrived it was like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had been penned up for months thinking of what was next in his life, thinking of Annure and the conflicts to come.

Finally the day came, and Jonas felt conflicting emotions, happy and excited to depart, and yet apprehensive to leave his mountain home and his new friends. He had spent over three years with these men and the thought of leaving them was not easy for Jonas.

Everyone had gathered to say good bye in the cold morning air. The sun had just risen over the steep peaks and the dripping of the melting snow broke the stillness of the quiet dawn. There was still snow on the ground but many of the game trails were now clear and passable.

Kiln was wearing his customary light chain mail covered with his thick wool tunic and on his shoulders hung his dark green traveling cloak. He wore dark breeches and thick leather boots. At his waist dangled his long sword and dagger and he carried his long bow in his hands. Kiln hefted his backpack to his shoulders and looked at Jonas with a nod.

Jonas was similarly outfitted with thick wool traveling clothes and at his belt hung his sword and dagger. Jonas adjusted the straps of his pack and looked at Lambeck and the rest of the men, unsure how to say good bye. Kiln had given the compound and most of his money to Lambeck. Except for what he now carried on his back and a small pouch of gold and silver, enough for their travels, he had nothing.

“Good luck, Jonas. May the High One watch over you,” Lambeck said, reaching out and shaking Jonas’s hand in the warrior’s grip.

“And you as well, Lambeck, thank you for everything. I owe you much,” replied Jonas, their eyes locking.

Lambeck nodded his head and stepped back. Jonas shook everyone’s hand and said his good byes.

“Lambeck, you’ve been a good friend to me over the years, as have you all,” Kiln said, addressing the group. “I count myself lucky to have spent so many years with you. Take care of my home for me,” he added as he went to each man to say his good byes. Kiln did not shed a tear, but Jonas saw more than one eye glisten with moisture from his men. “I will be back again. If I am to die then I want to be buried here in the mountains. If I live then I will walk these hills with you again. Either way I will be back. I promise you that. Until another day!” he shouted as he and Jonas started the long walk down the valley.

***



The first few days of travel were slow but without incident. Snow still covered some sections of the trail, making their descent down the Tundrens a bit arduous.

On the third day Jonas spotted a huge stag in the forest, standing at the crest of a tree dotted hill. It was standing absolutely still and looking directly at them. The deer was massive, almost the size of a horse. Its rack was gigantic. The span of the impressive horns was as far apart as a man is tall. At first he thought it was an elk, but then he noticed the horns, which distinguished the animal as a buck, despite its impossible size. Jonas had never seen anything like it. It was standing amongst the trees, head held high with no sign of fright, eyeing them both as they walked along the game trail. It was as if the deer was expecting them.

Jonas immediately thought back to a conversation he had had with Tuvallus, the mysterious mountain man who had rescued him and Fil. He recalled the man saying that he was tracking a huge buck, the biggest he had ever seen, and then it had just disappeared. That was when he had spotted the boarg tracks that had been following Jonas and Fil. Tuvallus had arrived in their camp just in time to save them both from the attacking boargs.

Jonas smiled to himself momentarily as he thought about the possibility that Shyann had had her hands in that rescue. Was this stag another warning? Or was it something else?

Jonas motioned for Kiln to look to his right, towards the animal. Kiln stopped and looked up into the woods and spotted the magnificent animal. His eyes widened and his hand automatically reached for his quiver.

“No,” Jonas whispered. Something inside him told him that this animal should not be shot, that it was standing there for a reason.

“Why not?” Kiln asked incredulously.

“I don’t know. I just feel like we shouldn’t shoot it.” Just as Jonas spoke the deer flicked its head as if it were saying, come here.

Jonas and Kiln looked at each other in wonder as the animal flicked its head one more time before leaping through the brambles and over the crest of the forested hill.

Kiln looked at Jonas and shrugged his shoulders. “What now?” he asked.

“We follow it,” replied Jonas with certainty as he ran after the majestic animal. Jonas and Kiln had to run quickly, leaping over rocks and snags as they tried to keep the buck in their sight. The stag stopped several times, looking back to see if they were still following.

“It’s leading us somewhere. Are you sure we should be following?” asked Kiln as he ran effortlessly beside Jonas.

“Yes. It wants us to follow; I can feel it,” Jonas panted as he jumped over a fallen log.

The two men followed the deer for several hours before they came to the top of a small hill overlooking a clearing. Down in the clearing was the largest, most magnificent oak tree that they had ever seen. Its base was probably thirty paces wide and its thick branches, each the size of a large tree, reached over a hundred feet in the air. It was colossal. Kiln and Jonas stared at the tree with wonder.

The huge deer looked back at them, flicked its head again, and disappeared behind the enormous trunk. Jonas sensed something special in the clearing, an aura of pure goodness that emanated from everything, especially the tree. It was like an oasis of pureness.

Kiln looked at Jonas in amazement. “What is this place? It is beautiful, and I feel something…different, like an overwhelming sense of peace. I can’t explain it. It feels like a sanctuary.”

“Trust your senses. We are looking at Shyann’s tree. I recognize it from a dream. This is the place where she was buried,” replied Jonas, his face a mask of wonder, similar to that of a child looking at a cavalier for the first time. Jonas looked at Kiln and smiled broadly, unable to hide his excitement. “You are looking at a sacred place. I’m willing to bet that no human has ever set eyes on this tree. Let’s go, nothing can harm us here,” Jonas said as he walked down into the clearing.

As Jonas entered the clearing, he felt a magical pulse deep in his body. It was brief, like a flash, and then it was over. He was standing at the base of the tree looking up into the branches. It was so big that his eyes could not encompass it.

Kiln moved next to him. “Did you feel that, Jonas?” he asked.

“I did. I think it was some magical barrier that we crossed.” Jonas stepped around to the backside of the tree where the deer had disappeared. He slowly ran his hand over the bark of the tree. Jonas felt the magic within the tree hum and pulse with life. It was an incredible feeling and his body felt alive. A sense of calm surrounded him and a flood of warmth surged through his fingers and into his body. He tingled everywhere and he had an overwhelming feeling to laugh, which he did. The scent of lavender filled the clearing and the gentle chirping of small forest birds created a peaceful symphony of sound.

As he neared the back of the tree he noticed a large opening at the base of the trunk. It was shaped like an inverted V and at the bottom of the opening was a set of stone steps that went down, underneath the oak’s root structure. The deer was nowhere to be seen.

Kiln approached him. “Do we go down?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Jonas, mesmerized by the magic of the place.

Jonas led Kiln down the dusty stone steps. Vines and roots draped the walls as they went deeper into the ground. The air smelt of wet moss after a morning rain. The passage was dark, but as they stepped from the last step onto a stone floor, the room instantly lit up as torches ensconced on the walls flared brightly.

Kiln looked at Jonas in surprise.

“It’s okay. We are supposed to be here. No harm will befall us in this place. Don’t you feel it?” Jonas asked, his eyes scanning the room.

“I do. I just wanted to make sure that you felt it too,” answered Kiln with a smile. There were six torches lighting a round room about twenty paces in diameter. The floor was covered with thick dust and completely empty except for a massive stone sarcophagus resting in the middle.

“Is that what I think it is?” asked Kiln.

“I think so,” replied Jonas in complete awe. He slowly stepped toward the stone coffin. The entire structure was carved with intricate designs. On the lid was etched a beautiful oak tree that looked similar to the mark on Jonas’s chest. The sides of the stone coffin were covered with carvings of Ulren’s four-pointed star. The work was intricate and the lines graceful and smooth, obviously the work of a master craftsman.

Jonas put both his hands on the coffin closing his eyes in prayer. He recognized the gift that they were given in being allowed to see this place and he wanted to thank Shyann for the honor she had given them.

“Jonas, look,” Kiln said with wonder.

Jonas opened his eyes to see a shining silver set of chain mail lying on top of the coffin. The metal shirt sparkled in the torchlight like diamonds. Resting on top of the chain mail was a metal breastplate that was covered with Shyann’s silver and blue oak tree. The symbol was perfect, the lines clean and fluid. The blue and silver sparkled in the light, causing the cuirass to glow as if it were alive. There were metal greaves, faulds to cover the hips, wrist guards, thigh guards, and shoulder plates. Each piece of the armor had a mirror like finish and was covered with intricate etchings of Shyann and the High One.

There was also a leather belt that carried two magnificent swords. The handle of each blade was carved from the horn of a deer and capped with shiny steel. The scabbard was hardened black leather enforced with polished steel and covered with intricate carvings and runes. The belt buckle was shaped in the image of the silver and blue oak tree of Shyann. The polished metal sparkled with beauty.

Next to the chain mail shirt was a long black bow and a quiver of matching arrows with silver and blue feathers. The leather quiver was lined with silver and stamped with more symbols, some of which Jonas recognized as Ulren’s and Shyann’s symbols, as well as others that didn’t look familiar. The tips of the bow were capped with carved white deer horn and the handle was also deer horn wrapped in black leather.

The item that really caught his eye was the silver helm resting at the head of the coffin. There were two deer horns jutting from the shiny steel. The entire helm gleamed and every inch of it reflected the god-like presence that Jonas felt when he gazed upon it. Jonas just gazed in awe at the treasures, his mouth agape.

“Where did all this come from?” Jonas asked.

“When you touched the coffin, they just appeared,” answered Kiln, moving a bit closer. “Is this really Shyann’s grave?”

“Yes, it is. I can feel it. I can sense her all around us.” Jonas reached out and grabbed the handle of one of the blades. It felt warm to his touch and the handle felt like it was made to fit his hand. He slid the blade out with one smooth motion. The metal rang and hummed as he held the sword up in the torchlight. The blade was polished silver and curved slightly at the end. Both sides were razor sharp and there was writing etched in the middle of the blade.

Jonas brought the blade closer to his face so he could get a better look. He felt the power pulse within the sword and the energy vibrated in his head. The sword was extremely light and perfectly balanced. Jonas looked at the script carved into the blade. He recognized it as elven and he tried to pronounce it.

“Tanaii…”

“Tanai’ Kay Des-tai,” interjected Kiln as he stepped closer to analyze the blade.

“What does it mean?” Jonas asked.

“It is elven. It means the path of righteousness, a fitting saying for a blade. I think your goddess has given you some powerful weapons, Jonas.”

“Should I take them?” Jonas asked, unsure.

“Yes. All cavaliers are given weapons by their god when they pass the tests at Annure.”

“But I have passed no tests,” Jonas said skeptically.

“It seems that Shyann does not care. Take the gifts, Jonas,” Kiln said.

Jonas looked at Kiln who was nodding his head in affirmation. “Go ahead.”

Jonas slid the blade back into the scabbard and laid down the sword belt. He lifted off his traveling cloak, tunic, and old mail shirt and dropped them to the floor. He then noticed that in a neat pile near the armor were new breeches made of dark fine leather, along with a blue tunic made of the same soft material. There was also a long shirt made of thick soft cotton, and black leather boots that laced up to the knees. They were magnificent, fit for royalty, and Jonas quickly discarded his old clothes for the new. The leather and soft cloth felt warm and comfortable as they caressed his skin. He reached out and lifted up the shiny chain mail shirt. It was light and warm to the touch as well.

“It is so light,” Jonas said in wonder.

“It is magic. You will barely be able to feel that shirt and yet it will stop a spear thrown by a giant. A magnificent gift,” Kiln said.

Jonas dropped the sparkling shirt over his head and it seemed to shrink to his form, looking like a normal shirt of metal. It was so light that Jonas could barely feel it. Next he put the breastplate over his head and buckled it at the sides. It, too, fit perfectly, as if it were made for him. He buckled on his shoulder guards, greaves, and wrist guards. He put his new tunic in his backpack and lifted his green traveling cloak from the floor and put it back over his head. He then unbuckled his old sword and buckled on his new ones. The twin blades hung lightly at his side and the belt fit him perfectly.

Lastly, he reached out and grabbed his new bow and quiver. He buckled the quiver to the side of his pack and held the long black bow firmly in his hand. He felt magic within the bow as well, and the grip fit his hand perfectly. There was no doubt in Jonas’s mind that these were indeed gifts from Shyann.

“You are looking more and more like a cavalier every day. Now all you need is your steed,” Kiln said with a smile.

Jonas looked down at his breastplate, his swords, and his bow and grinned from ear to ear. “This all feels so right, like they were made for me.”

“I think they were, my friend.”