The Cavalier

Eight

Startling Events



Lathrin, third lance of the Finarthian Knights, led fifty of his knights off the main road towards the farm. A report had come in several days ago that there was a massacre at one of the farm settlements near the outer limits of the king’s land. Lathrin and his men were sent out immediately by the king to investigate the attack.

Lathrin led the column of knights toward a lone farmhouse, their sparkling lance tips flashing as the setting sun shone against the jostling weapons.

A middle aged farmer wearing old worn out clothing approached them as they neared his home.

“Good day, sir, I am Lathrin, third lance of the Finarthian Knights. We have come to investigate the massacre,” he said as he stopped his warhorse next to the man.

The man eyed the soldiers uneasily before replying. “Two days ago in the middle of the night my family and I heard horrible sounds, like a battle of some sort. There was screaming and horrible screeches, sort of like a wild animal. But it didn’t sound like any animal I had ever heard. We saw a very bright light shine in the field but it didn’t last long. We didn’t know what it was. But in the morning I took my sons out into the field to investigate and saw the killings.”

“How many dead?” asked Lathrin.

“Four,” the farmer replied.

“Where did this happen?”

The man turned, pointing into a field beyond his house. “It’s a short walk away, just follow the fence line and you will see it. I don’t know what will be left now with the scavengers and all. Sir, it looked like one of the men killed was a priest or maybe a cavalier. I have never seen one myself but he carried Ulren’s symbol. I didn’t touch anything; it had the feel of evil.”

“I see,” Lathrin replied. “Thank you. We will go have a look.” The farmer nodded and watched the horses thunder into the field.

It didn’t take them long to find the carnage. Lathrin could see the four forms ripped and torn to pieces even at a distance. Their dark blood had soaked into the ground, staining the otherwise beautiful grassland.

Lathrin dismounted and told the others to do the same. “Don’t touch anything,” he ordered his men. “Just look for any clues as to what may have caused this.”

Lathrin walked to one of the corpses on the ground. A large buzzard flapped its wings angrily as he approached before it was forced to fly away. The body’s chest was ripped open and it was missing an arm. The man’s face had been torn off as well. Lathrin covered his nose from the stench as he knelt by the corpse. The dead man was a warrior, that much was obvious. His metal chest plate had been ripped off and thrown to the side and his sword was lying about ten paces away. Lathrin could see four deep cuts, like claw marks, covering his right thigh. It was obvious that claws and teeth of some sort ripped open the man’s chest.

“What did this sir?” asked Pelimus, a veteran knight of twenty years.

“A beast of some kind. Something big and powerful. What of the other bodies?”

“Looks the same, sir. They were killed with tooth and claw. There are no other bodies about so whatever attacked them left no trace,” he said as he averted his eyes from the gruesome scene.

“Sir!” yelled one of his soldiers.

Lathrin stood up looking over his shoulder. About forty paces away one of his men was motioning for him. Lathrin and Pelimus jogged over to see what he was so excited about. “What is it, Caros?” asked Lathrin as he neared the warrior.

“Sir, I think you should look at this,” Caros said as he stepped aside to reveal another corpse. Lathrin looked down at the body and saw another mutilated corpse, this body worse than the others. His entire chest cavity had been ripped open and his entrails spread over the grass. The body was clawed repeatedly until most of the warrior’s arms and legs had been ripped of skin and flesh, exposing white bone underneath. The only thing left untouched was the man’s face, and Lathrin knew that face.

“I can’t believe it, that’s Hilius, cavalier to Bandris.”

“I thought so,” replied Caros. “I found this lying nearby.” Caros held up a silver necklace carrying a pendant marked with Bandris’s double bladed battle-axe. It was the cavalier’s religious symbol. “What could do this to a cavalier, sir?” asked the uneasy warrior.

“I don’t know, Caros,” Lathrin said kneeling next to the mutilated body and shaking his head sadly. They have been getting reports from scouts and travelers that cavaliers from Annure, Tarsis, and all the eastern lands of Kraawn, have been attacked and killed over the last year. The king had ordered his officers to keep the reports secret, but eventually word had spread through the troops and to the people of Finarth. It wasn’t long before it became common knowledge that something was hunting and killing cavaliers.

The people were becoming frightened and restless and the king had no answers for them. The only thing they did know was that an evil was awakening; there was no doubt of that. The knights of Finarth had been constantly roaming the lands trying to find the killer, or killers, but to no avail. Whatever was killing the cavaliers was eluding them.

“Bury these men,” ordered Lathrin. “Then we head back to Finarth. The king must be given word that another cavalier has been killed.”

***

“How can this be!” bellowed the king, standing up angrily from the table. In audience was Lathrin, Prince Baylin, Manlin, high priest to Shyann, and Alerion, the king’s wizard.

“I don’t know, my Lord, but I am not mistaken. I have met Hilius on several occasions. It was he, and he carried Bandris’s symbol,” replied Lathrin.

King Gavinsteal turned around and looked up toward the back wall at the huge painting depicting the Dark One being defeated by his ancestor, King Ullis Gavinsteal. He gripped his sword handle tightly as he looked at the black figure of Malbeck. Is it possible that Malbeck is back?

“Sir, if I may speak?” asked the aging wizard. Alerion’s head was bald and his chin was speckled with gray and black hair that was trimmed to a sharp point. The wizard wore an ordinary blue tunic and gray breeches, and at his shoulders hung a heavy blue cloak lined with expensive silk.

“Of course, Alerion. What have you found out?” asked the king, turning back around to address the men.

“My Lord, I have been exhausting all my power to try and gain information as you requested. I have magically contacted the court wizards at Annure, Ta-ron, and Tarsis. So far, there have been six cavaliers killed.”

“How is this possible?” whispered Manlin. “Are you sure, Alerion?”

“Yes, unfortunately I am. Lapeen, Tary’an, Osandris, Rian, Katliss, and now Hilius,” added the wizard.

The king sat down heavily in his chair. “Katliss was slain? But he was the last first rank cavalier,” moaned the bewildered king.

“I do not believe it. What could do this?” muttered the shocked priest.

“It could only be a demon or beast of great power,” answered the wizard. “It could be the same one that attacked Jonas and the knight apprentices. All six of the cavaliers were killed in different locations, but in the same way. Also, I have received an urgent message from King Kromm.”

“What is it?” asked the king.

“It is reported that a large army is forming at Banrith castle,” Alerion continued. “Tarsinian scouts have reported that orcs, goblins, boargs, and other monsters have been pouring from the Blacklands and the Mazgar Forest by the thousands.” Everyone sat in silence taking in the wizard’s words.

“Father, there can be no doubt now,” interjected Baylin. “Over three years ago a Banthra attacked a small village that happened to be the home of a small boy. Soon after that same boy was attacked on the road by a priest of Naz-reen and then attacked by a demon in our very castle. Now six cavaliers have been killed by a demon and a monstrous army is building in Banrith, the stronghold that used to be the home of Malbeck himself before he was killed a thousand years ago. Father, it is happening again. The evil in the lands is growing in power and preparing the road for invasion. What better way to do that than to take out the ultimate threat to them, the cavaliers who protect our lands from this evil.”

The king sat silently for a moment, contemplating everyone’s words. “Have we heard anything from Jonas or Kiln?” asked the king, looking up at Alerion.

“No sir. No word.”

Suddenly the chamber’s double doors burst open. Everyone looked down the hall to see a young soldier running toward them. He was dirty and sweaty and flanked by the door guards who let him in.

The king got up immediately, moving toward the stumbling scout. “What is it, Tuarg?”

“Sir, I’m sorry to barge in on you, but I have urgent news,” sputtered the man through panting breaths.

“Go ahead, what is it?”

“Sir, I was scouting deep in the flatlands along the Tuvell River when I saw an approaching army.”

“What!” stormed the king in disbelief. “Who was it?”

“Sir, they bore the colors of Lord Moradin, but there were Sithgarin tribes with him as well.”

“How many?”

“I’m not sure. We were spotted by boargs and Keltick was killed. I barely got away, but I think there must have been thirty thousand or so. My Lord, the Tuvell Garrison was destroyed to the man.”

The perimeter of the king’s land was marked by several garrisons. These garrisons served two purposes, one, to protect the local people that lived in the king’s lands and paid taxes but were far away from Finarth, and two, to act as a warning bell to any approaching threat. These garrisons were located by the only bridges big enough to move an army over the expansive Sithgarin River

“Bandris’s axe! We had five hundred men at that garrison!” the king roared. He moved back up the stairs to his throne and sat down heavily in thought. “Lathrin, call a war council. We meet in one hour.”



“Yes, my Lord,” replied Lathrin as he got up from the table and strode down the long hallway and out the double doors.

“Good work, Tuarg. Rest now and be ready to scout again tomorrow,” ordered the king.

“Yes, sir,” the tired scout replied, turning to follow Lathrin out the door.

“Father, Lord Moradin would not attack us openly unless he was being forced to, or being paid a lot of gold. He has always been a thorn in our side but he does not have the power to confront us directly. Do you think Banrith has something to do with this?”

“I do,” replied the tired king. “Something is happening at Banrith. Evil is spreading from that land again.” The king directed his demanding gaze toward Alerion. “Alerion, I need some questions answered, and soon. Is Malbeck back? What sort of evil is rising from the North? What are we going to be fighting and how do we defeat it?”

Alerion stood up and gripped his staff that was leaning against the table’s edge. “I will do my best, sire,” replied the wizard with a nod as he walked out of the king’s conference room.

“Manlin?”

“Yes, my Lord?” asked the high priest.

“Go to your temple. Pray to Shyann, use her power to find out anything for me, any information that would be useful.”

The priest stood up. “If she wills it my Lord, then I will have some answers for you.” Manlin turned, following the wizard down the hallway.

“Father, it’s a ruse of some sort. The army at Banrith attacks Tarsis, while this new army attacks us. Neither army can come to aid the other. Simple divide and conquer strategy.”

“My thoughts exactly,” the king replied. “Baylin, send out riders immediately to our allies and ask them to send their soldiers. Tell them to meet our army at the Lindsor Bridge as soon as they can mobilize their forces. How long to march an army from Numenell?”

“I’d say about eight days,” replied the prince.

“Okay, go, my son. Send out the riders and then meet me back here as soon as you can for the council. I will need you.”

“Yes, Father,” replied the prince, bowing as he departed.

***

The Greever loved the night. It was his favorite time to hunt and the darkness did nothing to hurt his vision. He could see just as well in the pitch black of a moonless night, as he could in the day, and the dark trees below him

glowed with a shimmering green. The demon saw things in auras of color, greens, reds, blues, and oranges, depending on the heat signature they put out. But everything had energy, this, the demon knew, so everything had a color.

His master had been pleased with his work lately, and the Greever loved these recent hunts more than any other. The feeling of ripping the flesh from a cavalier made the demon shudder in ecstasy. But these warriors were not easy prey, they caused him great pain over the years, wounds that stung and magic that hurt its flesh. The Greever had felt similar pain before, not too long ago, when the big human cleaved its chest open with that silver axe. The demon wouldn’t forget that warrior, his stench, and it would hunt him down for the pain that he caused.

But this was the hunt that the Greever had been waiting for, the one that started it all. He still remembered the smell of the young man that he had almost killed over two years ago. The smell of his pure heart coated the demon’s nostrils. The pulsing goodness within the boy was a bright light to the Greever, and the beast wanted nothing more than to extinguish it.

The Greever beat its long leathery wings and its nostrils pulsed with life, hunting the air for the stink of the man. The hunter knew its prey would be close; its master told it where to go. The Greever would not fail this time, nor would it stop until it found this human and ripped the life from him and ate his bloody heart. The beast’s jaws opened instinctively, its tongue darting out beyond its razor sharp fangs, hunting for the metallic taste of blood. It wouldn’t be long now, thought the demon, flanking to the right toward the dark peaks of the Tundrens.

***

“Fil, have you heard?” asked Calden excitedly as he ran through the barracks toward Fil who lay on the upper bunk.

“Heard what?”

“We are mobilizing, we’re being invaded. Scouts came in today and said that an army approaches us as we speak.”

“What!” exclaimed Fil, jumping down from the bunk. Fil had worked hard over the last few years. He was powerfully built, short and solid, with legs and arms thick with muscle.

When the knight apprentices turned eighteen they all moved to the soldiers barracks beyond the inner wall. It was there that they had to serve two years before they would become full-fledged Finarthian Knights. The king believed that before apprentices could become knights, they had to learn how the common soldier lived. King Gavinsteal believed that you learned valuable lessons in the regular army and that you couldn’t really learn how to lead men unless you knew how the common man lives, fights, and thinks. That wasn’t a problem for Fil, Calden, or a few others, but most of the knights were highborn, and they really had no idea how most people in Finarth lived. Fil believed it was a good lesson for them, although most of the knights resented it. “What army?” asked Fil.

“Lord Moradin from Stonestep, along with several tribes from

the Sithgarin.”

“You’re kidding,” Fil’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why would they be marching on Finarth?”

“I don’t know,” replied Calden. “Lord Moradin has never openly attacked us. He always hid behind politics and banter while bandits and tribes staged attacks on us from his own city.”

“Why would he risk an open attack?” asked the bewildered Fil.

“I don’t know, but we are to mobilize with our modrig immediately,” Calden replied, excitement evident in his voice. “Hopefully we’ll get some answers there.”

Fil was scared, nervous, and excited all at the same time, and he could tell that Calden felt similar emotions. They had both trained for nearly three years and now the time had come to test their skills.

“You ready for this, Fil?” Calden asked.

“I am,” responded Fil confidently.

***

Jonas and Kiln traveled hard for several days, and it wasn’t long before they entered into the thick forests that covered the base of the Tundren Mountains. Kiln had told Jonas that once they came down from the mountains it would be five days to Ta’ron and then a full week to Annure.

The weather was good, which allowed them to push hard through the forest. The warm fall sun was shielded partly by the canopy of green trees that rose above them. The game trails were numerous, allowing them to push through the dense forest and onto the rolling plains without mishap.

Jonas stood high on a hill looking down across the rolling grasslands.

Kiln joined him. “Ta’ron is southeast of here. It shouldn’t take us long if we run,” he said, smiling.

“Run? But you’ve lived over fifty winters, surely you couldn’t keep up,” replied Jonas, who enjoyed their good natured banter.

“Only one way to find out,” Kiln said as he jumped off the small ledge and sprinted down the grass covered hill.

“Go ahead!” yelled Jonas. “You’ll need a head start anyway!” he laughed as he jumped off the ledge and ran after the sprinting warrior.

They ran the rest of that day, slowing their pace down to a jog and resting only for water and food. Their packs and armor slowed them down a little, but they were both in such great shape that their strong lungs could carry them all day. Jonas’s magical armor hindered him little, and even his new metal chest plate didn’t seem to weigh much more than hardened leather.

The sun started to set and Kiln slowed down to a walk. “We should camp here. I don’t like being in the open like this, but there are no trees for as far as I can see,” Kiln said, scanning the vast plains of grass.

Jonas looked ahead of them and couldn’t make out anything except more gently rolling grasslands. “I guess we don’t have a choice,” replied Jonas, taking off his pack and laying it down on the grass.

They scrounged up some dry sticks and twigs from nearby shrubs to build a fire; the warm food would do them good after the long run.

They both settled down by the flames as the sun set, giving way to a clear moonlit night. Kiln had prepared some warm oats with salt and they cleaned their plates with milt, a hard corn bread used by the soldiers in Finarth. The hearty warm food in their bellies, combined with the crackling fire and the chirping of the crickets, had a relaxing effect on the tired warriors.

Jonas looked up from the fire, gazing at the sparkling stars above them. It was a beautiful night, the air was warm and still and the bright moon and stars gave the countryside a bluish glow.

“It’s so calm out here,” Jonas said softly. “It’s like time is standing still and all your worries no longer exist.”

Kiln looked at Jonas and then followed his gaze to the sparkling dots of light. “I spent many evenings doing just this, looking at the stars above the craggy peaks of the Tundrens. Wondering what I was doing with my life, wondering how Cassandra was, how my king and my men were faring. A warm fire and a calm summer night have a way of making you look within yourself.”

Jonas looked at his friend and mentor. “What are you going to do, Kiln?”

Kiln looked at the glowing red embers as he thought about the question. “I’m not sure, but I think you came to me for a reason, Jonas. You’ve brought me out of the trance that I’ve been living in for twenty years. I think my lands are in danger and that the people of Finarth need a general again.”

“Do you think Malbeck, the Dark One, has returned to Kraawn?”

“I’m not sure, but some evil is back; you, of all people, know that. Banthras were created by Malbeck so it makes sense that he might be back. Someone or something of great power may have brought them back, I know not. But your village was attacked by a Banthra and I don’t think it was by chance”

“What do you mean?”

“Jonas, your village was attacked by a Banthra, you were attacked by boargs, twice, and a powerful agent of Naz-reen. And then you were attacked by a demon. I agree with the king in saying that you are the target. The evil that stirs is afraid of you, and they want you dead,” Kiln finished with emphasis.

Jonas looked away from the warrior, got up, and stirred the red-hot coals with a stick. Being a target of such enemies was not an easy thing to grasp, but Jonas had thought about it much and he could not argue with the logic. Shyann had obviously picked Jonas as her champion, and in doing so had made him an enemy of her enemies.

“But what can one person do, what can I do?” asked Jonas, confused.

“The power of one, Jonas, think on it. Malbeck was one person, and what did he do a thousand years ago? The king’s great ancestor, King Ullis Gavinsteal, slew Malbeck in battle, and he was only one person. I have used my skills in war to turn the tide of a battle and bring us victory where we should have suffered defeat. I have seen a farmer with a sword stand his ground in war and instill courage in others who would have run, which in turn affected the outcome of the battle. He was just one person whose own actions greatly affected the world around him. The list goes on. Jonas, never underestimate the power of one person.”

Jonas nodded his head and stirred the coals some more, thinking about what Kiln had said. “I won’t,” he said after a few moments.

“I hope not, because I am a good judge of character. You are the type of man that shoulders that power and responsibility; you will change Kraawn, Jonas. I can feel it.”

Jonas felt the weight of Kiln’s words on his back. If it were his destiny, then he would carry that weight, with both swords in his hands.

Jonas looked up again and saw that dark clouds had begun to drift across the sky, eclipsing the moonlight and bathing the area in darkness.

Kiln looked up as well, noticing the change in light. “Strange those clouds would move in so quickly,” he said. Jonas frowned, looking around; something didn’t seem right. Kiln noticed his expression and spoke with concern. “What is it? Do you hear something?”

“No, that is the problem. There are no more crickets,” Jonas said as he stood up. Then he felt it, the familiar tingle on his chest. It was Shyann’s warning. Jonas instinctively brought one hand to his chest, a move not missed by Kiln.

Kiln quickly slid his blade from its scabbard, the ringing of steel echoing in the still night. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure, but something evil is near, that much I know,” Jonas replied, his voice tense, as he quickly donned his helm and reached down to grab his new bow. He gripped the bone handle tightly and planted six arrows in the ground next to him. “Put out the fire,” whispered Jonas as he moved toward the flames.

“No! Whatever is out there can see in the dark, but we can’t. Leave the flames; the light might hinder its vision,” Kiln said as his eyes sought the threat. Jonas and Kiln stood alert, looking for the danger that was surely near. “I don’t like this, Jonas. I can’t hear or see anything.”

“I know. It is near, I can feel it,” Jonas whispered as he hunted for any signs of an attacker. Suddenly his chest flamed again and some intuition within Jonas told him to look up.

A shadow flew at them from the darkness, completely silent, its long leathery wings making no noise as the deathly form came at them like a falling stone. Jonas quickly grabbed an arrow and had it flying at the beast just as he dove to the side, out of the way of the attacking demon. The arrow struck the beast as it landed in the flames, sending sparks and a shower of burning embers into the air.

Kiln had seen Jonas’s move and flung himself blindly away from the fire. Both warriors rolled backwards, leaping to their feet, their silver swords glistening with magical energy.

Kiln’s long sword was also a magical blade, a priceless weapon that he took from the hands of a dead Sharneen chief. Kiln told the story one night to Jonas as they sat by his warm hearth. Long ago he had been challenged by a Sharneen chief, a chief of a tribe that was feuding with the tribe he was living with. The Sharneen rules are simple, accept the challenge and fight to live, or decline the challenge and be stoned to death as a coward. Kiln accepted the challenge and defeated the warrior, raising his status within the tribe and giving him weapon rights to the slain warrior. Kiln explained to Jonas that there was nothing more valuable to a Sharneen than the weapons that they collected in combat, and that one’s wealth, position, and power as a warrior was measured by the amount and quality of weapons that he possessed.

Kiln held the weapon in front of him, the blade glowing green in the pitch black. The blade was unique as the shape was not common. The base of the blade was narrow and its length curved slightly like a scimitar as it came to the tip. It was thin and as long as a long sword but the Sharneen weapon was as strong as any infantry cutting blade. The Sharneen blade smiths were some of the best, and that, in combination with the magic of the blade, made the sword nearly indestructible.

The demon sat on top the burning coals. The flames were now extinguished and the red hot coals did nothing to the creature as it leered at them with its red glowing eyes. Jonas had landed to the demon’s left and had come up gripping both his swords before him, their twin curved blades glowing bluish in the dark night. Jonas had dropped his bow in the grass and his arrows were scattered on the ground in front of him. The demon swung its bulky head back and forth before stopping and locking gazes with the young warrior. The beast’s long dark wings were held wide, the sharp bony points hovering menacingly before them.

“Finally, I get to kill you,” hissed the demon, its words barely recognizable as it spoke through its tooth filled jaws. Its deep voice sent a chill through Jonas as he looked at Kiln to his left.

Jonas recognized the look on Kiln’s face; he had dropped into Ty’erm, the mental state that prepared his mind and body for battle. Jonas quickly calmed his beating heart and entered into the state of Ty’erm as Kiln had taught him. His nerves calmed and his senses became enhanced. His breathing slowed, and he could hear his heartbeat. His senses were now so acute that he could pick up the subtlest nuances of sound or movement.

“You did not kill me at Finarth, and you will not kill me now,” Jonas answered the demon. He was gaining confidence as he prayed to Shyann and as he felt the warmth of magic flow into his body. He smiled inwardly, feeling strangely at ease, knowing that Shyann was with him, whether he lived or died.

The beast flicked its tail in agitation and Jonas noticed the long sharp spikes that covered the twitching appendage. “I have killed many of your brethren, but you are the one that I’ve longed to destroy,” rumbled the beast, its voice the epitome of evil.

The Greever stared at the two warriors, its red eyes carrying the weight of its hatred for all that is good. The beast began to growl, a low menacing sound that reverberated through their bodies. The sound was entrancing and Jonas’s sword tips began to slowly sag as his eyes began to close. The resonating sound got louder and Jonas felt his body teeter on the edge of consciousness.

Suddenly light flared within his mind and his body tensed, dispelling the demon’s magic. Jonas’s eyes sprung open and the demon roared in defiance. Jonas glanced to his left and saw Kiln swaying back and forth, his sword point touching the ground. The beast was using magic, using its voice to spell them. Shyann’s magic had freed Jonas from the demon’s grasp, but Kiln was still in danger as his eyes fluttered, barely maintaining consciousness.

The demon swung its tail in a powerful arc at Kiln as it shot its wing tips toward Jonas. Jonas screamed, hoping to wake up Kiln, and brought up his swords in desperation, trying to deflect the deadly wing points. His magical blades created a wall of razor sharp steel as he retreated quickly from the attacks.

Kiln felt dizzy and tired, the low growling from the demon resonating in his mind like a mother’s lullaby. But Kiln was strong in spirit, and in the state of Ty’erm even a powerful demon would have a hard time spelling the mentally tough warrior.

Kiln snapped his eyes open as Jonas screamed, and he lifted up his blade as the beast’s tail barreled into him like a spiked boulder. His blade deflected the powerful stroke slightly, but the sharp spikes still raked deep cuts across his shoulder and the momentum of the strike sent Kiln flying backwards.

He landed hard on his back, the impact of the fall not noticed as the pain of the three cuts shot through his body. The lacerations burned agonizingly; Kiln knew that these were no ordinary wounds, that the demon’s tail must be poisonous. He rolled around on the grass, moaning with pain as the poison found his blood stream and began to do its work. Kiln used his powerful mind, concentrating on dismissing the pain and pushing it aside so he could stand and fight this demon. He sought his center, focusing on it, willing his heart rate to slow and his breathing to relax. He pushed away the pain, attempting to ignore the effects of the poison. Gritting his teeth he grabbed his sword, lifting himself to his feet.

Jonas, seeing Kiln so severely wounded, was filled with fury. He dug deep within himself and brought forth his God Light with a brilliance that he did not think possible. He shone like a star. The beast hissed, retreating slightly, giving Jonas a quick reprieve from the deadly and ferocious attacks of its spiked wings and claws.

Jonas attacked without hesitation, despite the sinking feeling that filled his mind knowing that Kiln had been grievously wounded. He fought with all the skill that he had been taught, ducking and pivoting as his two glowing blades spun a glowing weave of steel.

The demon hissed in anger as he felt the sting of the magical blades, and the blinding brilliance of Jonas’s light. But the Greever had his own magic and he brought it forth with malice. Suddenly the area around Jonas was blanketed in darkness; a blackness so thick and dense that it extinguished his God Light. Jonas couldn’t see anything, and he backed away with his swords spinning defensively in front of him, while the Greever could see as if the sun were shining brightly. The demon beat its wings once, and springing with its two powerful legs, it flew through the air above the deadly blades and landed on top of Jonas.

The impact of the demon sent Jonas flying onto his back, and the full weight of the beast crushed the air from his lungs. Jonas felt the bite of the demon’s long talons trying to gouge holes through his magical armor and chain mail. Jonas struggled, but his arms were pinned by the demon’s powerful legs.

The beast’s claws ripped at the exposed flesh on his arms, his vital areas saved by the magical armor. The razor sharp claws tore through Jonas’s clothes but could not find his flesh through the armor.

Jonas lay there, blinded by the darkness, his heart pounding with fear. Terror gripped him and he almost succumbed to it until he remembered Kiln’s teachings and once again entered the state of Ty’erm.

The demon hissed with frustration when his front claws could not break through Jonas’s rib cage, his armor shielding heart and lungs from the deadly talons.

“I’ll just feed on your face first,” spit the demon as its maw opened, moving toward Jonas’s face in the darkness.

Jonas closed his eyes, concentrating on the demon on top of him. He could feel the familiar energy in all the air particles around the beast so he focused his mind on these particles, creating a mold of energy around the demon. Then he froze the particles. Suddenly the demon couldn’t move its body, its deadly jaw only inches from Jonas’s unprotected face.

“Feed on this!” yelled Jonas, directing a pulse of energy into the particles surrounding the demon. The demon flew backwards as if it were flung from a catapult, the sphere of darkness surrounding Jonas leaving with the beast.

The Greever reacted quickly, flinging its wings out wide and beating at the still night air. The demon hovered in the darkness forty paces above Jonas.

Jonas stood up slowly, his head aching from the tremendous amount of energy that he was forced to expend to hold the powerful demon. Jonas brought forth his God Light again. The bright light flared powerfully and lit up the area around him. Jonas saw movement to his right. Glancing over he could see Kiln’s form stand shakily, his sword held before him.

Jonas was relieved that Kiln was not dead, but the relief soon vanished as he looked back up into the air just as the demon bore down at him from the darkness. Jonas brought up his blades once again fending off the attack with desperate defensive maneuvers.

The demon hovered several paces off the ground, its long leather wings beating powerfully, sending gusts of wind and dust into Jonas’s eyes. The beast’s claws lashed out again and again trying to bring down the expert swordsman.

Jonas fought with all his strength, relentlessly blocking the deadly claws and attacking with lighting quick jabs and ripostes, scoring numerous hits to the beast. But the Greever was a hunter of another world and its strength and power was nearly inexhaustible.

The Greever then changed tactics; it landed softly, and with one smooth motion sent both spiked wings and both sets of claws in for the kill.

Jonas reacted quickly, spinning his deadly blades in a deflecting barrage of steel, but he couldn’t block both wings and claws. A powerful claw broke through his defenses and penetrated the gaps on his helmet, just missing his eyes. The razor sharp talons cut two shallow lacerations across his forehead. The pain was intense as evil magic penetrated the wounds, but Jonas, in the state of Ty’erm, was able to ignore the pain, and concentrate on the task at hand. Jumping back quickly he tried to focus on the demon, but his face stung and his eyes were filling with blood, making it almost impossible to see anything. Through a haze of blood Jonas caught the blur of a spiked tail before it crashed into his head.

Kiln screamed defiantly as he saw the beast’s tail strike Jonas with tremendous force. Jonas’s head snapped to the side violently and his horned helm flew into the air. The powerful tail had launched Jonas into the air, spinning him around like a top to land on his side.

Kiln ran forward without hesitation, his magical sword in his right hand as he quickly drew his long hunting knife from his scabbard with his left hand.

As the Greever’s tail hit Jonas, the demon pivoted quickly, sensing and hearing the threat from behind. The puny human moved in faster than the demon thought possible. Kiln’s razor sharp blades danced left and right and scored several hits on the Greever’s arms as it tried to swat the deadly weapons away. The demon howled from the pain and shot both its spiked wings forward in attack.

Kiln saw the spikes approach with lightning speed, but Kiln was the warrior of legend and he was able to follow their trajectory as if they were in slow motion. Kiln turned his body sideways just at the last second and both spikes shot to either side of him. Kiln, reacting rather than thinking, dropped his knife and shot that empty hand forward towards a spike. In the slow motion state of Ty’erm, Kiln could see his left hand wrap around the dark gray spike. He was hoping that the demon would react instinctively when he threw its spikes out for an attack by pulling them back toward its body. He guessed right. The demon pulled its wing tips back just as fast as it had shot them forward. Kiln gripped tightly as the demon yanked the deadly swordsman right toward it.

The Greever saw the warrior’s move but it was too late. The swordsman crashed into the demon’s body, his glowing sword leading the way. Roaring in pain, the Greever felt the magic blade pierce its abdomen, erupting out the other side with tremendous force. Kiln dropped to the ground, trying to roll backwards out of harm’s way, but the demon was too fast. The beast shot both clawed hands forward, grabbing Kiln by his shoulders. Kiln’s struggles were futile against the powerful demon. He felt the monster’s claws dig in deep as he was lifted into the air as if he weighed no more than a child. Kiln gritted his teeth against the pain as the demon brought him to eye level. The Greever’s beady red eyes pulsed with hatred and its long yellow teeth dripped with saliva.

“You cannot kill me, human.” The demon spit out the last word with hatred. The beast’s claws continued to dig in deeper but Kiln didn’t cry out.

“Maybe not, but I can cause you pain,” he gasped as he reached out with his hand and twisted the sword that was still buried to the hilt in the demon’s stomach. The demon roared in pain and Kiln could smell its hot fetid breath on his face.

Just then he felt a searing pain in his back. His head shot backwards as his back arched violently. He could feel his lungs start to fill with blood. He looked down, seeing the demon’s tail underneath him. The beast must have snaked its tail between his legs as it held him in the air. The demon couldn’t get a powerful swing from that position but it was enough to bury the spikes in his back deep enough to puncture his lungs. Kiln coughed, struggling to breath, spitting blood from his open mouth.

The demon threw Kiln aside like a piece of garbage. But Kiln was an experienced warrior and he learned long ago to never let go of his sword, no matter how grievously he was wounded. So Kiln held onto the hilt of his sword as he was thrown aside, yanking it from the demon’s body. The Greever stumbled backwards as black blood poured from the horrible wound.

Jonas’s head rang, throbbing with intense pain. He shook off the dizziness, struggling to get his feet underneath him. If it weren’t for his magical helm he would be dead, the demon’s tail would have crushed his skull like a ripe melon. He staggered to his feet, the fogginess in his head slowly clearing. His face was covered with blood and he still couldn’t see. He closed his eyes and used his powers to locate the monster. He was an IshMian and could see the demon’s energy within his mind, allowing him to see the glowing outline of the demon’s form.

Jonas stumbled again trying to get his bearing. He could make out two forms fighting, one obviously the demon and the other must be Kiln. Jonas’s spirits lifted as he saw his friend, but they soon plummeted again as he watched Kiln’s desperate attack, and moments later his body flying through the air to land unmoving in the grass.

The beast was hurt, for Jonas could see the different shades of temperature on its body and its wounds were lit up with an orange glow. But the damage Kiln did wasn’t enough to stop the monster. The demon swung around and turned its attention to its real target. With lightning speed, the demon’s long bony body, outlined with blue energy, moved in like a glimmer of death.

Jonas couldn’t move quickly enough and again felt sudden and immense pain as one of the beast’s sharp wing spikes drove in deep into his upper hip, just above his thigh greaves. He screamed from the pain, yelling in his mind for Shyann’s help.

Instantly Jonas’s body flared with blue fire. Jonas didn’t really know how the power came. It wasn’t like he was praying. He just asked for help, or maybe that wasn’t the correct way of explaining it. He willed the power forward, and it came. But this time it was different. It was a new form of magic. Burning flames erupted outward from his body like an explosion, striking the demon and scorching its flesh. It roared in pain and leaped back from the fire, ripping its long spike from the deep wound in Jonas’s hip.

Bright red blood gushed from the puncture wound and Jonas stumbled backwards, still blind from the blood that was pouring into his eyes. He didn’t know where the fire had come from, and even though he figured the magical flames came from Shyann, he did not have time to ponder the question. Jonas used his cloak, frantically wiping his face so he could see. He was able to clear enough blood from his face to allow him to view, through a blur, the scene around him.

The Greever roared in pain as its thick skin turned black from the God Fire. The demon glared at the dangerous warrior, its lips curling up in a smile, exposing long dirty fangs. The warrior was stumbling on one leg, blood pouring from the gruesome wound on his hip. The pitiful human was frantically wiping the blood from his eyes trying to find the stalking hunter. The Greever, though badly wounded, knew that it had this one defeated. The beast licked its dripping teeth anticipating the taste of the warrior’s blood.

Suddenly pain shot through the demon as arrows slammed into its back, into the joint connecting its left wing to its shoulder. The Greever spun towards the new attacker to see a brilliant light around eighty paces away coming at him like a shooting star. The demon crouched low, hissing in anger, and tried to flap its wings. The left one burned in pain and wouldn’t react to its commands. The arrows must have been magical as no normal weapon could have harmed him so seriously.

As the light came closer the Greever saw that it was a female warrior on horseback illuminated with powerful God Light. The cavalier held a long bow drawn back tightly, a silver tipped arrow pointing at the monster.

“Time to die, demon,” whispered the red haired warrior. She let the arrow fly, nocking another quickly. The arrow whistled through the air leaving a streak of blue magic in its wake. The sharp point slammed into the demon’s muscled chest. The arrows, blessed by the gods, burned deeply into the demon’s body, causing excruciating pain.

The Greever was getting weaker; the wounds from the deadly swordsman, the young cavalier, and now this female warrior, were taking their toll. The beast needed to destroy this new threat quickly. Using its powerful legs, the hunter from another world sprinted toward the horsed woman with astonishing speed.

The female cavalier sent another magical arrow into the chest of the charging demon. The shaft struck the demon in the upper shoulder, causing it to stumble slightly, but it didn’t stop the ferocious charge. The Greever closed the gap quickly and the cavalier dropped her bow and drew forth her long sword.

Suddenly a form rose from the tall grass directly in front of the charging demon. It was the man that the beast thought it had killed. The beast could not stop its momentum, realizing too late that the man was still holding his glowing green sword. That was the last thing the beast felt as it barreled into the man.

Kiln held the sword in front of him like a lance and the demon hit him hard. The impact felt like a smith’s hammer swung from a frost giant, the power of the charge driving the point of the magical blade through the demons thick chest, slicing through the protective bone plating that covered its heart, and burying the sword to the hilt, completely cleaving the beast’s heart in two. Kiln and the demon somersaulted through the air, landing heavily in a tangle of claws and limbs.

Jonas could barely make out the events as he stumbled dizzily towards the light, leaving crimson stains on the tall grass behind him. He saw the demon charge a horsed warrior, but it was all a blur as the blood in his eyes still affected his vision. His head ached and his temples pounded like an army’s war drums. The use of his cognivant powers had weakened him tremendously. The loss of blood caused his vision to blur even more, and his body felt too heavy to bear. Jonas finally succumbed to his wounds, falling face down in the bloody grass, his mind a whirlwind of visions and thoughts. He rolled over on his back and tried to stay conscious. The last thing he remembered before darkness overcame him was the vision of a lovely face framed in red hair leaning over him.

***

Jonas slowly opened his eyes struggling for consciousness. His vision swam and his head was clouded with pain. His eyes managed to focus on a flickering orange light which helped to bring him out of his sleep and into reality.

The light became a burning fire. Jonas was lying next to it and wrapped in his sleeping blanket. Sitting by the fire was a beautiful red haired woman who was gazing intently at him. He remembered seeing her briefly before he lost consciousness. She was wearing magnificent polished plate armor that reflected the dancing flames off its silver surface. A dark blue cloak was pulled tightly over her shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” she asked; her voice was soft and filled with concern.

“I feel weak and tired, and my head hurts.”

“Understandable, you lost a lot of blood and you suffered severe injuries to your head. I’m glad I was able to heal you. I feared you would have died.”

Everything came flooding back to Jonas in a rush of memories, and he bolted upright, frantically searching for Kiln.

The female warrior moved toward him and gently placed her hand on his chest. “It’s okay, the demon is dead, and your friend is alive.” She paused. “Barely.”

Jonas looked around and saw Kiln lying on the ground, wrapped in blankets on the other side of the fire. “What happened and who are you?” asked Jonas, dizziness overtaking him and forcing him to lie back down.

“Your friend killed the demon as it charged me. I didn’t see your friend until he rose up from the grass and lanced the demon through the heart. The wound in his back should have killed him, and yet he stood up in front of a charging demon and killed it. The beast hit him hard, breaking both arms and several ribs. He was filled with poison and he lost a lot of blood. I don’t know how he survived at all. He never should have been able to fight a demon that was that powerful. He was lucky his blade was enchanted and that he managed to pierce its heart. He must be very strong.”

“It was not all luck, and yes, he is very strong. Will he make it?” Jonas asked hopefully.

“I don’t know. I will need to link power with you to heal him correctly. I don’t have the power alone to heal such serious wounds. I merely stopped the bleeding and eliminated the danger of the poison.”

Jonas looked at the amber haired warrior intently. “How do you know I have power?”

“You’re a cavalier,” she said bluntly.

“I am no cavalier.”

“What do you mean? I saw your God Light, and that mark on your chest is a God Mark, for no human could make something so beautiful. You must be a cavalier.”

“What I mean is that I have had no formal training. I passed no tests and attended no school.”

“What? How can that be?” she asked with surprise.

“It’s a long story for another time. More importantly, what is your name and how did you happen upon us in our time of need? We owe you our gratitude. We would not be alive today if it were not for you.”

The woman smiled warmly, immediately reminding Jonas of Allindrian. She had the same sharp features, minus the elven ears and almond shaped eyes, and her smile lit up her entire face. Jonas analyzed the woman as she stared at him from across the fire. Her long red hair was tied back at the top of her head by a leather cord, which kept it out of her eyes. Light freckles dotted her creamy complexion which accentuated her full red lips. Yet the line of her mouth and jaw created an image of strength as well as beauty.

“My name is Taleen. I’m a cavalier to Helikon.”

“I am Jonas Kanrene. I thank you again for saving us. You’re from the lands west of the Tundrens?” Jonas asked, remembering from his classes at Finarth that Helikon was what the people in the west called Bandris, god of war, honor, and courage.

“I am. I am from Osrigard along the Ronith River.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of it. Where is that?”

“It is directly west of here, over the Tundrens, through the Tundren plains and across the Ronith grasslands. It took me eight weeks to get here.”

“Why have you traveled so far?” Jonas asked. “You are a long way from home.”

Taleen looked at him with interest. “For one who wields the power of a cavalier, you know very little about them.”

“I told you, I was not trained to be a cavalier. The mark and powers just…sort of…appeared,” Jonas added lamely.

“God magic does not just appear, young warrior, but that discussion can wait. Cavaliers travel to where their god directs them, and their god’s bidding becomes apparent as they near their destination.”

“You traveled eight weeks because your god directed you here?”

“Yes. Helikon needed me here…to help you, it would appear.”

“You traveled that distance just to help me?”

“I did. Something is happening, Jonas, that you might not be aware of. That demon that your friend killed has been destroying cavaliers all throughout Kraawn.”

“What! How many?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think there are many left. Maybe none at all, except for you and me.”

“But I’m not even a cavalier.”

“I don’t know how to explain that, Jonas, but Helikon brought me here to save you, of that I am certain. As you must be aware, there is a growing source of evil in the lands, an evil using great magic to destroy the cavaliers. I believe that the source of this evil is paving a path for invasion. A second Great War is upon us. And it’s up to you and me to help win this war.”

Jonas looked into her determined eyes. “I will not shy from that task, Taleen, but I need to go to Annure to get some answers.”

Taleen stared at Jonas for a few seconds before looking into the flickering flames of the fire. The dancing fire bathed Taleen’s features in an orange glow, and Jonas couldn’t pull his gaze from her stunning face. She looked back into his eyes. “I agree. You need to get some answers. It may be that Annure will have them. I will travel with you. But for now, get some rest. I will watch over your friend until you regain your strength.”

Jonas had forgotten how tired he was, and at the mere mention of the word rest his eyelids began to drop heavily. He wrapped the blanket firmly around himself and let his eyes close in exhaustion. “Thank you again, Taleen,” Jonas muttered as his tired body shut down completely and he fell into a deep sleep.

“Thank Helikon, young cavalier who is not a cavalier,” Taleen replied as she watched the young man fall asleep.

***

It took most of the day for the Finarthian army to mobilize, but the king insisted that they begin their march immediately, even if it would be dark in several hours. Fil had never seen anything like it. The entire city was a bustle of activity as the army packed up supply wagons and the officers prepared their modrigs.

It was hard to believe that Prince Moredin was actually marching an army towards them. The prince ruled a large lawless city called Stonestep which was located along the trade routes that snaked through the dangerous Sithgarin desert. Stonestep was no friend to Finarth, and it was commonly known that the lands there were used as a staging base for brigands and raiders to poke their thieving fingers into Annure and Finarth. But Prince Moredin had never openly raised a sword against Finarth, nor had he ever allied himself so obviously with tribes from the Sithgarin. Why would he do so now? What was causing this rash behavior? Everyone was asking the same questions as they prepared for war.

There were two ludus’s in a modrig and two modrigs in an akron, an akron being a thousand men. Ludus’s were further split into five pandars; each pandar was led by a lieutenant.

Finarth had roughly twenty akrons, not including the Finarthian Knights, which were considered a separate unit. Each modrig was led by a corporal and each akron was led by a third rank general. It was a hierarchy that seemed to run smoothly. Next in rank came the second rank generals that each controlled five akrons. Following that was the first rank general, or high commander, who was in charge of the entire Finarthian army, including the knights. The king, of course, commanded them all. Fil had never met the high commander, but he had learned from Tanus, the corporal of their modrig, that his name was Volnos and he was an aging veteran of many campaigns.

Fil marched in line next to Calden, his friend and fellow knight apprentice. There were no other apprentices in their modrig or even their akron. They had been spread out to different units. It was organized that way for a reason, forcing the young men to interact with different people and establishing relationships with soldiers from various backgrounds.

Each of the soldiers wore a hardened leather breastplate lined with circles of steel over a shirt of heavy chain mail. Their forearms, thighs and shins were protected by leather reinforced with steel plates. Each footman soldier was issued a short infantry sword, stabbing spear, and a steel shield, all designed for formation fighting.

Fil gripped his spear with anxiety, wondering if the rest of the men felt the way he did, eager, yet frightened at the same time. He scanned the men around him and saw no hesitation in them. They were mostly middle aged veterans who had fought and survived many battles, which was why his akron was a front line unit. Calden, marching next to him, gave a sidelong glance at Fil.

“I can’t believe we're going to war,” Calden muttered to Fil. “Are you nervous?”

“I am,” replied Fil. “But this is what I want. I want to avenge my family.”

“You think that Moredin’s army is led by the same evil forces that destroyed your town?”

“I don’t know, but Tanus told us that the king thinks this army is being backed by Banrith Castle. And if that is so, then they are somehow linked to the Banthra that attacked my village. I will get my revenge, Calden,” Fil said fiercely. He gripped his spear so tightly that his thick knuckles turned white.

“I hope you do, my friend, and I will be right beside you.”

Fil smiled at Calden, taking comfort in his friend’s presence. Fil’s mind wandered to Jonas, and wondered how he was faring. He missed him dearly, but he realized that their paths were now different, and that Jonas’s calling would take him to different places. It saddened Fil that he might not see his friend again. What if he died in this battle? What if Jonas was already dead? It was a frightening thought, but certainly a possibility considering the enemies that were hunting him.

When Fil had heard that cavaliers were being killed all throughout Kraawn he immediately feared for his friend. He even went to Shyann’s temple in town to get some guidance. The priests couldn’t really help him. All they said was the normal religious rhetoric. That it would be Shyann’s will whether he lived or died, that type of thing. Fil couldn’t understand that belief system and that was why he had such little faith in the gods. Was it just a game to them? What right did they have to decide someone’s fate? Who were they to decide who lived and died? And did they really have that power anyway? Fil did not deny their existence, just whether or not the gods lived up to most people’s expectations. Fil didn’t think so. He often wondered whether or not they deserved his allegiance at all.

The sound of a galloping horse brought Fil out of his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder and saw a heavy warhorse gallop by. The dust from the road billowed around them as the warrior quickly rode down the column.

It was Tanus. Fil recognized his blue billowing cape and his unique silver helm. Fil had learned that years ago Tanus had taken a small group of warriors to a tiny farming settlement on the outskirts of their lands, almost to the edge of the Tundrens. The village had been raided by a small pack of boargs and the leader of Tanus’s akron had sent him there when he was a young officer. The story went that his entire pandar, which was fifty men, had been slain, except for him, and that he had killed the last of the boargs by himself, his men dead around him. Men tell the tale as if he had been surrounded by snarling boargs, and in berserker frenzy, Tanus had killed them all. No one really knew for sure what happened as he never spoke about it.

Tanus then cut the horns from the pack leader and had the king’s blacksmith fashion a helm from them so he would never forget the men that died. The helm was crafted from bright silver steel and etched upon it were beautiful, intricate patterns. The great curved horns gave him a menacing look and when he flipped down his visor, all you could see was the dark slits for his eyes and two massive horns curving outward. It was said that it had cost him a season’s wages to have it crafted and when Fil looked upon it he could believe it. It was truly an amazing piece of armor, more fit for royalty than a common soldier.

Fil shuddered every time he saw Tanus’s helm. The horns created a flood of memories that he would just as soon forget. But Tanus was an honorable man, and a great warrior, and Fil was happy to be serving under him.

***

Jonas awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. He stood up, and looked around the camp. Kiln was still wrapped in blankets and unconscious. Jonas inspected his own wounds quickly and was surprised to feel only slight scarring on his face and arms where the demon had clawed him. The painful wounds were almost totally healed. The only reminders left of the horrible battle were the lines of pink tissue where the wounds had been closed. He lifted up his tunic and saw a similar mark on his hip. There was a round spot above his pelvic bone that was pink and tender to the touch, but other than that he felt fine.

Jonas looked around for his armor and weapons. He found them lying on the ground near the smoldering fire. Lifting up the chest plate he inspected the damage. He frowned with curiosity at what he saw. The silver chest plate was glistening as if it had been recently oiled. The silver embossed symbol of Shyann sparkled in the morning sun, and there was not a mark on it. Jonas then picked up his helm to see what damage the demon’s tail had done to it. It was perfect, no dents or scratches, and it shone with brilliance.

“How can this be?” Jonas whispered to himself.

“And you say you’re not a cavalier,” came a soft voice behind him. Jonas turned around to see Taleen ride up on a magnificent horse. He hadn’t even heard the animal as it trotted through the tall grass. The large animal’s chestnut coat glistened in the sun, accentuating its powerful muscular body.

It reminded Jonas of Airos’s steed. The horse wore plated steel on its chest and sparkling chain mail draped its massive sides. A black leather saddle shone as if it were just crafted and brought from the tanners shop.

Taleen was just as beautiful. She wore fitted black breeches and laced up riding boots. Her shins and thighs were covered with bands of silver steel, each of which was carved with intricate runes. A thick sword belt of black leather circled her thin waist and a silver cuirass covered her chest. The center of her cuirass had a carved symbol of Helikon, a double bladed battle axe. Intricate runes and symbols wrapped around her molded chest plate, forming perfectly to her feminine but strong body. Her muscular arms were bare except for black and silver wrist guards. A sturdy long bow was tucked in its sheath that hung from the side of the horse. Everything about the pair was perfect. They both glistened and sparkled as if they had recently been groomed by some invisible servant.

“I don’t understand,” Jonas said, taken back by their magnificent appearance, trying not to stare at Taleen’s beauty.

“A cavalier’s armor, steed, and gear are always clean and polished. No matter how much damage my equipment takes, I wake up in the morning to find it perfect and clean. Look at yourself, Jonas.”

Jonas looked down at himself, his eyes growing wide as he noticed his own clothing and armor in the same pristine condition. His breeches and tunic were perfectly clean, with no blood or rips anywhere. His chain mail shirt sparkled and his boots were free of any dirt from their hard travels.

“But this has never happened before,” he said in amazement.

“It’s not my place to know why, but it seems you are gradually being given the powers of a cavalier. That much is clear,” Taleen stated.

“I have come to understand that. The problem is I’ve never had the opportunity to talk to another cavalier, so I don’t know what powers I may have, or may gain.”

“Now you do,” she smiled. “But first, let us see to your friend.”

Taleen dismounted and strode through the tall grass to Kiln. Jonas couldn’t help but follow her swaying hips as she walked. He briefly felt ashamed at himself that he was looking at her in that way while his friend was lying unconscious nearby. He quickly moved by her as she knelt next to Kiln.

“How is he?” Jonas asked.

“He’ll be fine. He should have died but he is a strong one. I need your help, Jonas, if we are going to heal him enough to travel anytime soon. I don’t have the power to heal wounds as serious as he sustained. Do you feel up to it?”

“I’ve only healed one person before and I don’t really know how I did it, but yes, I will do whatever needs to be done to help Kiln.”

Taleen’s expression changed briefly at the mention of Kiln’s name. “Did you say his name is Kiln?”

“I did. Do you know him?”

“Kiln from Finarth?” Taleen asked, a hint of wonder in her voice.

“Yes, the same. Do you know him?” Jonas asked again, a little confused at her reaction.

“Only of him. He is a legend even in the West. He was once a great general who fell from grace, as the story goes.”

“He still is a great general, and he did not fall from grace,” Jonas replied with a little more edge to his voice than he wanted.

“Relax, Jonas. I meant no insult. I am only repeating what I’ve heard.”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that he’s been such a great friend to me over the last few years. He is good man.”

“And a strong one, no doubt. It is said that he cannot be beaten with a blade. No wonder he was able to hold his own against that demon.”

“Now that is one rumor that is true. He is incredible to watch.” Jonas smiled as he thought of his friend and all the combat training they had done.

“Well, let us restore him to his talents. All you need do is hold my hand and call upon Shyann as you did when you last used her healing power. The power will be there, you just need to bring it forth. I want you to channel her energy into me and I will take care of the rest. Don’t stop the flow of magic until I release your hand. Do you understand?”

“I do,” replied Jonas.

Taleen smiled, reaching out for his hand. Her touch sent a tingle down his spine. Her hands were calloused but warm, and the way her thumb lay on his thigh made Jonas’s face flush. Concentrate on healing, you idiot, Jonas told himself.

It took him a moment but he was finally able to concentrate on the task. He fervently prayed to Shyann, asking her for her help in healing Kiln. Instantly he felt the familiar heat within him. The magical energy surged through his body and rushed into Taleen’s hand.

He felt her body jolt as her hand gripped his harder. Jonas just fell within himself and let the power fold into her. He didn’t know how long he was praying but suddenly Taleen let go and the connection was broken. Shyann’s power receded within him and Jonas slowly opened his eyes.

Taleen was staring at him wide eyed.

“What is it?” he asked with concern.

“I have never felt that kind of power. I thought your energy would consume me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought that the more I gave you the faster Kiln would be healed.”

“Theoretically true, but the wielder of the power has to be able to control the energy. I barely had the strength to wield your power, Jonas.”

“I’m sorry, Taleen. I truly didn’t know.”

“I know. I should have explained a few things to you before we tried that.”

“Can you teach me how to control my power?” Jonas asked.

“I don’t know, but I think we need to at least discuss it, so you have a better understanding of the powers gifted to cavaliers.”

“I would like that.”

“Are you going to just sit there and talk with the beautiful lady, or help me up,” mumbled Kiln.

They both looked at Kiln with astonishment.

“That was fast. Here, let me help you,” Jonas said as he helped Kiln to his feet. Kiln stood up slowly, arching his back to work out the kinks, and stretched his arms and legs to loosen them up. His body was sore and his mended wounds ached, but he felt great considering.

“I feel as if my insides are burning, but it’s a pleasant feeling, a feeling of warmth and energy,” Kiln muttered in disbelief as he inspected the wounds. There were only small pink scars to remind him of the horrible injuries that almost killed him. “How can this be?”

“Taleen and I healed you,” replied Jonas. Kiln looked at him and then looked at Taleen, his hard features suddenly broken by a gentle smile.

“I am Kiln. We are deeply indebted to you. You’re a cavalier to Helikon?”

“I am. How did you know I’m from the west?”

“We call Helikon, Bandris, but the western symbol for Bandris is different, longer in the blades with different markings. I recognize that symbol on your cuirass.”

“You are very observant.”

Kiln continued to look at Taleen and Jonas felt a twinge of jealousy. “I take it that it was you who came to our aid last night?”

“It was.”

“Again, we are in your debt,” Kiln said for a second time.

“No, you are in Helikon’s debt. He sent me here to find this young man.”

“I see.” Kiln looked at Jonas with concern. “How did you fare, Jonas? I don’t remember much after that demon lanced me in the back with its spiked tail.”

“I was hard pressed. I fought it with God Light and my blades, but the beast had magic of its own and countered mine. He injured me badly before Shyann came to my aid again and helped me burn it badly with flame.”

“It’s called God Fire. Not all cavaliers have such a gift. Most are not strong enough to wield that power,” interjected Taleen.

“I sent God Fire into the demon and that forced the beast back. It was just about to attack me again when Taleen came to our aid. The demon then charged her.”

“And that is when I lanced it with my sword, a second time,” added Kiln remembering.

“You stabbed it twice? I couldn’t see with all the blood in my eyes but I knew you were battling it. How did you counter the demon’s spell?” Jonas asked.

“I don’t know. I broke the demons trance just before its spiked tail slammed into my side. I was able to get my blade up to deflect most of the power, but it still cut me, and the pain was severe, far more than it should have been for those wounds.”

“It was poison. You never should have been able to counter the spell or fight off the poison. Your spirit is very strong, Kiln, only a cavalier or powerful priest would have been able to counter that demon’s power. However, charms and spells of the mind can sometimes be countered by mentally strong and disciplined warriors, which I assume is why you were able to do so.” Taleen spoke with obvious respect in her voice.

Kiln, uncomfortable with the praise, looked away, stretching his tired limbs some more. “Jonas, I’m sorry that I couldn’t finish the beast,” he said regretfully, lifting both hands towards the sky to loosen his sore muscles.

“It was not your fault, general, anyone, including a cavalier, would have a slim chance against that beast by themselves,” Taleen commented as she went to gather her backpack.

“You know who I am?”

“I do. I recognized your name.”

“Really? My name is known in the west?” Kiln asked.

“Your name is known to all warriors, sir.”

“My name or my disgrace?” Kiln retorted bitterly.

“A little of both I’m afraid,” replied the cavalier as she dug out some provisions from her pack.

“I see.” Kiln stared at Taleen for a moment with his cold gray eyes, but she held his stare, her bright blue eyes showing no hint of judgment. Kiln’s face softened as he picked up his pack. “We can talk more later. I see you’re hungry as well. Let us eat breakfast.”

Taleen simply nodded in affirmation.

“Yes, I am starving,” added Jonas as he went to his pack.

They ate a warm breakfast of boiled oats mixed with honey that Taleen had brought with her. They used a sweet brown bread to clean the wooden bowls. Jonas was famished after expending so much energy and the food did wonders for his tired and sore body. They finished off the meal with cups of boiling water that Taleen had mixed with several herbs. It tasted very similar to the drink that Jonas’s mother used to make him in the morning, and that thought made him smile as he sipped his tea.

The trio was quiet as they ate; the only sounds came from the chirping birds that flew back and forth over the grasslands, eating their morning breakfast of bugs.

Finally Kiln broke the silence. “Since you are a cavalier, I assume that Helikon sent you here for a reason.”

Taleen took a slow sip of the warm brew before answering. “He did, but I do not know the exact reason. I can assume it was to help Jonas against the demon, but I cannot know for sure.”

“What does Helikon ask of you now?” Kiln asked.

“I’m not sure. A cavalier’s travels are not always clear. Our gods give us information when they think we need it. I will travel with Jonas to Annure until I am called elsewhere.”

“Do you talk with your god?” Jonas asked.

“No, cavalier’s do not actually converse with their gods. Usually messages or intent is sent through their steeds or passed to the cavalier with mental pictures, like waking dreams, some of which can be unclear at times,” Taleen explained. “I do not even think that priests or clerics actually converse with their gods.”

“I have met Shyann,” Jonas said.

Taleen paused for a moment and looked at the young warrior. “You mean you have seen her, talked with her in person?” she asked skeptically.

“Yes, well not exactly. I have spoken to her in my dreams. But it is real, as if she were standing right in front of me. It is like a waking dream,” Jonas said, trying to explain the few times he had spoken with Shyann while he was asleep.

Taleen looked into the fire for a few moments before speaking. “That is something, Jonas. I will admit that I envy your personal connection with Shyann. I have never heard of that happening before. I would very much like the opportunity to speak with Helikon, as you have with Shyann.”

“The games gods play,” Kiln muttered.

“Indeed, at times it seems so. The truth be told we know very little of the gods we worship. All I know is that there is good and evil in the world, and if Helikon fights against that evil, then he is worthy of worship,” Taleen said.

“Why ask to be worshipped to begin with?” Kiln asked no one in particular. “Isn’t that a sign of arrogance? It seems that even the good gods want power, which to me is the root of greed, the very foundation of despots and evil. Is the line between the benevolent gods and evil ones so defined, or is it sometimes blurred? I often wonder if the world would be a better place if no one believed in either.”

No one spoke for a while as they digested the warrior’s words. Finally Taleen spoke up.

“Whether people believe or not has no bearing on whether the gods exist. They either do or they do not. We get our power from somewhere, be it gods or something else, and as long as I believe, and feel, that my power is being used to make the world better, then I will continue to believe in something. Your disbelief, or repudiation, whatever you will call it, does not confirm or deny their existence,” Taleen argued.

“I disagree. If no one believed, or worshipped the gods, they would have no power over us; therefore their very presence in our world would slowly disappear. Do you think that the people before us believed in the same gods as we do now?” Kiln asked.

“I do not know, no one knows,” Taleen said.

“Exactly. One thing is certain though. Our presence is but a blink in the life of our world. Therefore it is highly probable that the people before, and after us, have had, and will have, other beliefs. They will believe in other gods, in other religions, and they will be no more right or wrong than you and your beliefs. To me, these contradictions confirm that to worship gods is to believe in something that is just an idea, an emotion, and nothing more. I think the elves have it right, that there are no gods, that the magic of the universe comes from the Ru’Ach and these so called gods are just beings of great power that somehow have found a direct connection to this energy,” Kiln said.

“Love is an emotion,” Jonas said, deep in thought. “It seems to me that some ideas are worth living for, and fighting for.”

Kiln looked at Jonas but said nothing, clearly thinking about the simplicity of his words.

“Always a difficult conversation,” Taleen said. “I suggest we move on to more pressing matters.”

“Agreed,” Kiln confirmed.

“Taleen,” Jonas said. “Can you help me understand the powers of a cavalier? I have never had the chance to actually talk to a cavalier in depth. I do not know the full extent of my powers and I think it would aid me greatly to know what I am capable of doing.”

“Yes, I can, and I agree. If you’ve never been formally trained then you need to learn some basic knowledge about cavaliers.” Taleen took another sip of her hot drink before continuing. “A cavalier has several basic powers. They can dispel fear and evil, they can dispel magic, and they can bring forth God Light which, in itself, has several powers. God Light can dispel magic and fear and bring pain to creatures of darkness. This same light can also create an aura of confidence to bring hope to those who have none. Some can even use their voice as a tool of power, quieting crowds, bringing hope and strength to those who hear them. That is a rare skill typically only granted to first rank cavaliers.

“I heard Airos use that power at a town meeting. It was impressive. Everyone was transfixed to his every word as if he were a god,” added Jonas.

“Airos was a first rank cavalier, which would explain that power,” interjected Kiln.

“It is unfortunate that he was killed. His death was a huge blow to our cause.” Taleen paused to take another sip of her brew. “A cavalier also has powers of endurance, allowing them to fight for many hours without tiring or eating. They can heal the wounded and sick. The most powerful tool that a cavalier can wield is God Fire. God Fire can be used in several ways but only the strongest of cavaliers can wield this power. This power is reserved to first rank cavaliers only. That is why I was so surprised to hear you say you used fire against the demon. It is unclear to me how you could do so when you’ve never been trained. The number of first rank cavaliers that exist is small, and I don’t even know how many of them have been killed.”

“Killed? What do you mean?” asked Kiln. Jonas had forgotten that Kiln was unconscious when Taleen had told him that cavaliers were being murdered throughout Kraawn.

“The last two years have seen many of our cavaliers destroyed. Hunted down by a demon, or demons, we’re not sure. It is very likely that the same demon that attacked you here was doing this killing. It is possible that there are no more first rank cavaliers, except for Jonas.”

“How can I be the highest ranking cavalier when I’ve never been trained?”

“And why do the gods not give all cavaliers these powers?” Kiln added.

“Our land is being attacked,” Taleen said sadly. “Perhaps the gods reasoned that there is no time to train you. Maybe you are needed now and your strength and constitution is enough. Not all of us have the constitution, the physical and mental capabilities of using and sustaining some powers. I would imagine that if Helikon granted me the power of God Fire that the first time I used it I would be burned to a crisp. Jonas, there is something inside of you that gives you strength. That something allows you to wield power that I cannot. Hopefully Annure can help answer some of these questions.”

“So this demon that we fought last night has been killing other cavaliers,” Kiln muttered to himself.

“The beast told me last night that it had been killing my brethren. There can be no doubt that the demon was referring to cavaliers,” added Jonas.

“This is grave news,” said Kiln.

“It is. Cavaliers have been our shield against evil for thousands of years. Without them, we are vulnerable. I do not know how many are left besides Jonas and me. I hope that Annure will have that information,” Taleen said hopefully.

“What is the training like at Annure?” asked Jonas.

“I did not train there. I trained at Rohindrin on the coast of Algard, but the training should be the same. The first step for a potential candidate is the purity test. This test is done by the high priests that represent your god or goddess. I do not know exactly what they do at Annure, but at Rohindrin you sit in the center of an altar room while six high priests circle you. They pray and ask their god or goddess for their blessing in accepting you into the training. If you are deemed pure of heart and soul, then you will be admitted. Very few people pass this test. There are many people that try to become cavaliers for the wrong reasons. Your thoughts and desires cannot be hidden from the gods. After you pass that test then you are trained in weapons, combat, and many other advanced skills.”

“Like what?” Jonas asked with interest.

“Like horsemanship, movement of armies, sieging of a city, politics, royal etiquette, languages, history, reading and writing, and so on.”

“That must take a long time.”

“The first part of a cavalier’s training takes five years. Once that is completed then they move on to the tests of strength.”

“Physical strength?” interrupted Jonas.

“No, strength of body and mind together. The amount of magic that a cavalier can control is directly related to their constitution. It is not totally understood, but there are some people who can withstand more than others. They need to determine the strength of each candidate. This is what determines the ranking. There are first, second, and third rank cavaliers. Third rank cavaliers have the power of God Light and dispelling evil. Second rank cavaliers, like myself, can bring forth God Light, heal, and dispel evil, while first rank cavaliers have all of those powers plus they can wield God Fire. God Fire can be used in many different ways, and the strength of the user will determine what they can do. Each cavalier, even within their ranking, has certain ranges of power. Some are more powerful in certain areas than others, but always a cavalier is trained in combat. If they pass the tests then they will be marked as an expert swordsman, their God Mark covering their hands.” Taleen glanced down at Kiln’s hands and her eyes twinkled with interest.

Kiln did not miss the brief look. “You expected a mark?”

“I did. I had heard you were the best.”

“I think such marks are signs of vanity. Besides, why warn an enemy of your skills,” Kiln replied.

“In most cases I would agree with you. But the cavalier’s mark is not a mark of vanity. The God Mark is designed to uplift men and women and ensure their confidence in the cavalier. The mark is a deterrent for evil and violence, a warning so to speak.

“I do not see a mark on your hands, Taleen,” Jonas said curiously.

“I could not pass the master swordsman tests. I am good, but not that good. My skill is with the bow,” replied Taleen with no hint of arrogance. “Anyway, if the candidate has passed the tests of combat and magic then they must be put on trial.”

“Trial? What do you mean?” asked Jonas.

“The cavalier candidate must prove their faith by passing several tests. The first one is a test of pain. If a candidate makes it this far, there is high probability that he or she will fail here. The candidate is tortured by high priests of their faith.”

“What! Tortured, by their priests?” This time it was Kiln who responded with disbelief.

“Yes. To ensure the faith of the candidate, they are tortured for five days. Their bodies are cut, burned, and broken, with the idea that at the end of the fifth day their god or goddess will heal them. The Forsworn are constantly hunting and looking for ways to corrupt or destroy cavaliers. If a cavalier is captured, the tortures that they would endure at the hands of that evil would be incomprehensible. This test will help prepare them for the possibility of that happening. If they keep faith through that intense ordeal then they will pass the test. If not, then they will be healed and released from training, never to be a cavalier.”

“And you went through that?” Jonas asked in amazement.

“I did. The hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Jonas and Kiln both looked at Taleen with newfound respect.

“The next trial is called the Balnock, or dream test. The candidates are put into a trance by their priests. In this trance they are assaulted by various demons and monsters and the candidates must use their powers to defeat them.”

“Are the demons real?” asked Jonas.

“No, but they seem real. In that state everything feels real, including pain. If you die or retreat, you fail that test and are released from training forever.”

“How long does it take a candidate to pass all the tests and become a cavalier?” Kiln asked.

“It takes around six years. As you can imagine, very few make it through all these tests. Candidates must prove themselves in purity, combat, and faith, which very few can do. If we lose all our cavaliers, then it will take too long to train more. We cannot die, Jonas.”

“I don’t plan to,” Jonas said seriously. “What about a cavalier’s steed? I had heard that they are granted a steed from their god.”

“After the cavalier passes all the tests and they are officially recognized as a cavalier, they will usually get their steed, armor, and weapons, but these gifts are given by their god and there is no set rule as to when this happens. I can see that you have already received your armor and weapons. The steed may come at any time. Kormac, my horse, came to me the night before my first mission.”

“And they have powers as well?”

“Oh yes, the cavalier’s steed has powers of strength and endurance. They can run continuously without tiring. They can fight and sense evil as you do. They, too, are always perfectly groomed, their armor and coat glistening like it was recently polished and brushed. It is believed that a cavalier should instill strength and courage in others and to do this they must look the part.”

“We will travel to Annure to get some answers. At that point I may leave you and head to Finarth. I have some unfinished business there,” said Kiln.

“I would like to accompany you to Finarth,” replied Jonas hopefully.

“We’ll see, my friend. You may have a different calling. The council at Annure may have other plans for you.”

“But I swore allegiance to King Gavinsteal.”

“That may be, but your calling as a cavalier supersedes any prior oath to a king.”

“He is right, Jonas,” Taleen interjected. “Cavaliers have no allegiance to any one king or land. Their allegiance is to their gods and to all the people of Kraawn. King Gavinsteal knows this and would not hold you to your oath.”

“I see,” replied Jonas, saddened at the thought that he might not be able to see Fil anytime soon. He had missed his friend over the years and hoped that he fared well.

Kiln suddenly stood up, buckling on his sword belt. “Well, I think it’s time we are on our way.”

“I agree,” added Taleen as she also stood. “To Annure, and answers.”

***

Alerion prepared for the summons with infinite care. The demon he was calling was a pit fiend named Ixtofin, and even though Alerion knew the beast’s real name, he must prepare the spell precisely or risk being torn to pieces by this powerful denizen from another plane.

Alerion was a powerful wizard whose real skill was in conjuring. He was not a battle wizard, and although he did have some offensive spells, his skill was in finding and retrieving information. One of the best, though most dangerous, ways of doing that was to conjure beasts from other planes of existence, beasts that were made of magic that could get information in ways that Alerion could not.

Alerion’s chamber was spacious and lined with book shelves filled with old leather bound tomes. Large thick tables of oak lay about randomly, all littered with various beakers, parchments, books, dried herbs, and other items for magical use. To an observer the room would have looked unkempt, but Alerion knew the exact whereabouts of every herb, parchment, and magical component.

The center of the room was empty and that is where Alerion knelt, drawing a four-pointed star with a circle around it. Alerion was not a follower of any one god, but Ulren’s symbol was one of the strongest symbols to use for conjuring. Using a stick of lime to draw the symbol exactly, he made sure that there were no gaps in the lines.

He got up and locked the large oak door, placing the heavy beam down in the locked position so no one would accidentally enter while he was summoning the pit fiend. It could be disastrous if that happened. They could spoil his concentration. Or worse, Ixtofin could use his powers to assault the mind of someone mentally weaker or unprepared, and possess their body temporarily, just long enough to destroy the symbol which acted as the demon’s prison on this plane. A demon cannot leave the interior of the symbol, which was why it was so important that the symbol be drawn perfectly with no gaps.

When the door was locked, Alerion lit four candles made of red dragon fat, a substance so rare and expensive that very few wizards had the means to acquire it unless they were court wizards to a rich king, as was Alerion.

Alerion was kneeling five paces from the symbol as he opened his most prized possession, his book of spells. He had used the spell before, but Alerion did not get to where he was by being careless and impatient. The words must be recited exactly or he would not be able to access the magic of the Ru’Ach and summon the demon. The ancient words he guarded with care and magical wards because if they got into the wrong hands the power of the book could be used for evil, which Alerion would not allow. The wards, spells used to protect the book, were designed to incinerate it if anyone but him opened it. It would be devastating to lose the book, but it would be far worse knowing that his life’s work was being used for dark deeds.

Alerion took a deep breath and began to recite the words slowly and exactly. Words of magic were much more difficult to use than people suspected. Not only did they have to be read correctly, but the inflection and tone must also be perfect for the Ru’Ach to be tapped. His words rolled off his tongue smoothly and perfectly. His voice gained in tempo and power as he read the ancient words from the heavy book.

Slowly a mist began to form at the center of the symbol. The swirling smoke-like mist drifted upwards, meandering back and forth in a cylintrical shape.

Alerion did not look up or falter from recitation of the spell; it could mean certain death. The pit fiend would rip him to pieces and he would stand little chance in stopping the demon. He might also permanently transport the pit fiend to their own plane. Alerion could not let that happen. He continued reading from the book, his voice now booming with power in the large stone room.

Suddenly all the braziers in the room flared and were suddently extinguished, leaving only the four candles in each corner of the symbol shedding any light. The air felt heavy and dark and Alerion knew that Ixtofin was entering their realm.

After reciting the last word of power, Alerion looked up at the drifting smoke. He heard a deep rumbling, like the slow growl of a huge dragon, and the mist began to change and take on the shape of a figure. Alerion could just make out the form of two large bat-like wings slowly opening and expanding to reveal the upper body of a giant muscled torso. The mist slowly materialized into the upper body of the pit fiend, while its lower body was a tendril of smoke that was connected to the center of the symbol.

Ixtofin’s body was colossal, with heavily muscled arms extended wide as if it were stretching. The demon’s clawed hands opened and closed, the massive muscles on its forearms rippling and flexing with each movement. The demon raised its head slowly, exposing two black horns curving upwards. Its mouth opened revealing black fangs as long as fingers. Red eyes, glowing with fury, were set deeply in the demon’s thick bald head. Tendrils of smoke drifted from the demon’s red scaly skin as if it were burning from an immense internal heat.

Alerion felt his resolve flutter as Ixtofin’s eyes flared with malice, centering on him with obvious hatred. The demon’s voice was gravelly and deep, shaking the very floor. “What do you want, human?” spat the demon.

Alerion knew that the demon would tear him to pieces if it could, but as long as his magical barrier held, and he was strong enough to manage the magic, the demon would have to answer his questions.

“Ixtofin!” Alerion bellowed. “I need information.” Alerion purposely used the demon’s real name. Knowing the beast’s magical name gave Alerion some control over the demon and it reminded the pit fiend that he was in control.

The demon growled at the use of his name, the noise causing Alerion’s eardrums to vibrate. “You have two questions.”

“Three, you will answer three questions,” ordered Alerion with confidence.

The demon roared, shooting its giant hands toward Alerion.

Alerion did not move or flinch, concentrating on the task at hand. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he focused his mind on the magic around the barrier. Ixtofin hit the magical barrier and was repelled back toward the center of the symbol.

“You know you cannot break through my defenses, Ixtofin.”

“You will make a mistake, wizard, and when you do I will be there to rip your arms and legs from that pitiful shell you call a body. Now ask your three questions so I can leave this place,” rumbled the angry demon.

Alerion had thought about his questions carefully. He had prepared for this extensively but there was no telling how the demon would react to his wording or how much the beast would answer. It was all a risk and nothing ever went as planned when you dealt with creatures and beasts from other planes of existence. “Has Malbeck the Dark One returned to Kraawn?”

“Yes and no,” replied the demon.

“Explain,” ordered Alerion.

“I answered the question, now proceed to question two.” The pit fiend spoke slowly, its deep and powerful voice reverberating off the stone walls around them.

“You did not answer the question,” replied Alerion. “And if you don’t finish the answer then I will give your true name to every powerful wizard in Kraawn and you will spend the next thousand years being summoned by wizards for their own petty desires. Now answer the question!” ordered the wizard, his powerful voice echoing in the chamber.

The demon’s beady eyes narrowed in anger and it looked as if it were about to attack again, but the fiery demon just flapped its wings in frustration and spoke with a thunderous voice. “When Malbeck was destroyed a thousand years ago only his physical body died. Weapons of steel could not permanently destroy Malbeck’s evil essence, which drifted through the Ru’Ach in limbo, between planes of existence until a powerful follower of his found a way to bring him back. So yes, he is back, but he is not the same as he was. His time within the Ru’Ach changed him, making him more powerful.”

Ixtofin stopped talking abruptly, staring at Alerion with open hatred. Suddenly Alerion’s mind flared with pain as the demon tried to assault him mentally. Alerion instantly brought up a barrier to ward off the attack and the pain in his head abated. He should have been more prepared for the demon’s attack. The beast always tested Alerion, trying to find a hole in his defenses, but Alerion was busy trying to process the new information and his mind had wandered. It would not happen again he thought.

“How did they bring him back?” Alerion asked, using up question two.

Ixtofin eyed him menacingly for several seconds before answering. “They found the Shan Cemar.”

The words hit Alerion like a hammer. “What!” Alerion yelled, momentarily losing control. “That cannot be,” he continued, quickly refocusing his attention on the demon. “The Shan Cemar has been hidden for thousands of years. Even the elves do not know its hiding place.”

“Not anymore,” the pit fiend hissed, taking pleasure in Alerion’s distress. “The Shan Cemar was found. The followers of the Dark One have been looking for it for a thousand years and their resolve has paid off.”

Alerion couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The Shan Cemar was a book that held words of power written in the ancient elven tongue, the true language of magic. The book had been hidden thousands of years ago by the ancient elves and most people just thought of it as a legend, a tale told in taverns by traveling bards.

But Alerion knew that the Shan Cemar was real and that many adventurers and powerful wizards had been trying to find its location for many life times. He simply couldn’t believe it had been found. The power in the Shan Cemar was beyond Alerion’s imagination, and he knew that if Malbeck had the book in his possession then the good people of Kraawn were in serious danger.

“How do we kill the Dark One?” asked Alerion whose head was spinning with fear and unanswered questions.

The demon hissed as smoke and fire flared from his nose and mouth. “You must find the IshMian that has the blood of Finarth pulsing through his veins.”

The response was brief and to the point, which startled Alerion. Alerion wanted to ask the demon more but he knew that if he broke the rules that his magic would weaken, giving Ixtofin the chance to break through his defenses.

“You are released to return to your burning planes. Now be gone with you, Ixtofin.” Alerion read the last few lines of the spell and the Pit Fiend’s form began to dissolve slowly into mist again.

The last thing that Alerion heard was the rumbling laughter as the swirling mist disappeared into the floor. Immediately the braziers lit and flared to life again, shedding the flames orange light throughout the room. Alerion stood, closing his book.

“An IshMian,” he repeated out loud as he set his book down and strode out the door.