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Keith Seoski <3AHUCSI@CMUVM.BITNET> Fluff--Blaith From the wood's edge a rider emerged and stopped. His grey cloak was travel stained and ragged at the bottom from long riding. The legs of his grey stallion were black with mud. His gaze crossed the creek and settled on the town. Blistmas stood atop a small, prfectly round hill. At the hill's foot a rough wooden palisade stood, its entrance guarded by two men in resty breastplates and greaves. At the very top stood the local lord's stronghold. A two story building with two connected towers. In a larger human structure it would only have quilified as a barbican, but for the small town it was a true fortress. Arglwyth Blaith strarted the stallion across the still wintery stream. He rode confidently forward without touching the great yew bow atached to his saddle. As he passed through the gates, the guards peered up at him, trying to see into the deep hood. As one thought to stop him, Blaith quenched the thought. Blaith moved up into the town. Once inside the wall, the village streets were strewn with fine gravel, forming a passible street. Here and there women gaped out windows, children scattered to from the rode, and lounging men stopped there talking. Even when he reached the strongholds gate, nothing was said, though therusty guards did bar his way with long spears. "I am here to see the lord," Blaith stated firmly, in his windy voice. The two guards looked at one another like cattle. Finally, one spoke up. "Who are you?" "Just tell your master that a guest as arrived and would like to have words with him." They looked at each other, not sure if they liked the answer. Blaith began to finger his bow as he reached out to touch their minds. Finally, one winked at the other and disappeared into the keep. Soon he reappeared with a man in dark green livery, his bearing was military and his manner confident. "Greetings stranger, its not often we recieve visitors. Will you enter and refresh yourself," he invited in a gruff voice. All the while he appraised Blaith. His eyes alighted on the great bow, twinkled and then moved on to the shadow of Blaith's sword beneath the grey cloak. "It is coustomary for the guest to give is name." "They call me Arglwyth Blaith. Are you then the master of this keep?" "I am the castellan. The master, his Lord Kirian of Mandrageon (Key ree-an of Man-drag-ee-on), awaits you inside. If you would dismount, I will take you to him." Blaith dismounted, handing the reins to a groom that hurried up. "I'm greatfull. Its been a long journey." Under his breathe he muttered,"Its good to be back." Together they to walked through the iron bound doors, up the steps and into the Kirian's study. It was a small room in the east tower. On two of the walls hung tapestries, the north of two flying dragon's fighting and the south of a troop of heavy calvery issuing from a large fortress. Blaith reflected on the dragon's, they weren't very life like with long snakey bodies and four eagle-like legs. Their necks were intwined in a position impossible for flight. On either side of the door, were book- cases, holding a half dozen books each and a number of scroll tubes. Beside the east facing window was a suit of field plate, complete with weapons. The armor was of Genovian style: heavy, with great shoulders and a winged helm. How anyone could wear that and still fight, eluded Blaith. He took a seat before at the oak table that stood before the the window. Soon the door opened and an aged man with broad shoulders and a hulking build entered the room. His hair was near to white, but he walked with confidence and a balanced step. Judging by the muscular bruteness of his person, Blaith decided that the armor was his. He was a man that could move as easlily within it as Blaith moved in his light chain mail shirt. "Well sir, I see that they did not even take your cloak. If you'll stand for a moment I'll take it myself." His voice was a crystal bass. "No, my lord. It is the custom of my people to keep our faces covered." "Hmmmp, an unfriendly attitude, that." "There are reasons, my lord. In time perhaps we will discuss them." "Very well, as the guest will have it, I always say." Kirian eyed him suspiciously. "What brings you to Blistmas?" "My lord, many years ago an ancient evil awoke in my homeland. We had thought it destroyed these past ten generations. Even as we speak it grows in power, and my race dies before it. I have come seeking the power that was used against it in the past. It was hidden from us after its use, our forefathers fearing that we might posses a power to mighty to be controlled." "A noble quest. And how is it that you come here?" Blaith took a deep breathe, "I believe it is hidden here. Hidden beneath the hill, in the cairn of my forfathers." ======================================================================== Chapter 1 The Tomb, part ii Lord Kirian stared openly at the grey cloaked stranger seates in his study. "Surely, your mistaken. This stronghold," he waved his arm about his head, "has stood for over three hundred years. And the town long before that." "Yes, I know. The first wagon of farmers arrived here five-hundred and twelve years ago. I watched them from the woods over there," he pointed to where he had emerged. Kirian scraped his chair backward, giving himself room should he have to fight. His hand was an the heavy dagger at his belt. Blaith took this all in and decided that the truth must come out. As he moved his hands to the hood of his cloak he said, "There are other races that still inhabit this world." With that he threw back his hood dramatically revealing a long face, with grey hair, and complection. The eyes were a clear and golden, holding youth and wisdom, age and eneregy. The Lord's face shown with shock and incredulance, though his hand drop from the dagger. "Myrraddyn," he breathed softly. "I thought you but a legend." "Close, Kirian. Myrraddyn (Mir-rath-in)is not one person, it is my race. We lived here long ago, in the glory of our days, before your people walked the earth. Now we walk the shadows and the hidden valleys waiting." "Can this really be? Legends walking the earth? " "Come on, Kirian. You wouldn't be a battle lord, or so I judge by your armor, if you couldn't accept any possibility and work through it. Stop and think." Kirian paused to consider, his face turning from shock to worry as the time went by. Blaith stayed still, letting the man settle into the new reality. Kirian's old mind was taxed, he decided, it would take him awhile to open up and accept what he had been told. Could he comprehend the danger that was approaching, could he over come his superstitions. It seemed he would, by his changing face. "You mentioned something about a growing evil," he querried some time later. "What can I do?" "For now, relax. For a Genovian lord you have terrible manners." Blaith did his best impish grin and leaned back in his seat. Smiling Kirian replied, "My manners. You are right. You've probably been on the road a long time, can I offer you some bread and cheese. It is a few hours to dinner." With that he bellowed to the gaurd outside the door. Within minutes a serving wench came bowing and scraping in with the food. When she had left, Blaith returned to the subject. He explained that some twelve thousand years ago a black tide of evil had spread across Gyrray, as the world was known then. His fore- fathers had begun to battle the evil as soon as its nature was realized. By studing tomes of ancient knowledge, so ancient that the peoples of the authors were then no more, it was realized that a force was controlling the creatures, calling upon spirits to do its work. Battle was joined with the Ghellmeck, as it was named. For almost two thousand years his people fought hidious creatures, taming what could be, destroying what could not, while their own Loremasters searched for some final weapon. It was the ancient race of dragons, still strong and wise in the youth of their race, that found the key. Ghellmeck was forced to physical form and then, somehow, he was destroyed. Or thought to have been destroyed. ======================================================================== Chapter 1 The Tomb, part 3 It was three days before Blaith could open the portal which led to the tomb, the night of the cresent moon. In the mean time Blaith wandered about the stronghold, secretly smiling at the simple lives humans in their secure world. Secure by the efforts of his people. Word had quickly spread through the castle of the walking legend, and so long as it did not leave the town he didn't mind, though he still kept his hood up when not alone, with Kirian or the castellan. Each night, when Kirian found time, he would knock at at Blaith's door. During their nightly conversations, Blaith would tell stories of other races, good and evil, in their prime. Dragons and gargoyles, dwarves and orcs filled the stories. But Blaith never answered a question concerning his own race or the evolution of men. For one thing, Kirian could not understand the Myrraddyn without the mind touch, and knowledge of man's ultimate origin could unbalance the sharp minded old man. Of Ghellmeck he said little also, his own poeple having been to busy to keep records and then to few to do ought else but survive. Kirian seemed to take everything in half-credulously, and only after carefull digestion would he comment or ask more questions. Blaith was quickly having to change his view on the barbaric nature of men, this Genovian in perticular. So it was that on the night of the cresent moon, Blaith stood at the bottom of a steep rise in the hill. Beside him and a little back stood Kirian in full armor. He had insisted on joining Blaith, and even by using the mind touch Blaith could not dissuade him. "I'm not really very good a this sort of thing. I usually let the more skilled practice magic," Blaith informed him. Kirian grunted half nervously. Blaith raised his arms, reaching out for the magic pool. When his spirit touch the water, a gathered a little in, all the time muttering in the One Tongue. Before him the hillside began to swirl in maelstrom of colors. A rushing wind began to howl from the whirlpool, filled with the stench of decay, and bitter incense. Finally a tunnel of black opened up through the storm. Tiredly, Blaith motioned Kirian to sheath his great bastard sword and follow him. "I have never seen the like, Blaith. How is such power possible?" "It would take to long to explain. Just say that some Men are born with the power, most are not. And even those that can often can't master the power before it masters them. Power seeks its own, that's why the answer I seek was hidden." As the passed through the tunnel sparks of lightning reached out to brush them. In a matter of yards they were deep inside solid bedrock. Blaith stopped and said to no one, "Syff amil," and a emerald light issued from pockets in the walls. What was revealed was a cavern, its far wall mirror smoth and painted. The scene depicted a city of shimmering crystal seated atop a large knoll. In the foreground grey children played, as adults tended the fields. In the background a lone winged creature flew. Blaith pointed at it. "That's a true dragon, in all his glory." Without stopping he walked up to the cities gates, knocked three times on them and whispered. He looked back at Kirian then walked through. On the other side were thirteen tombs, each engraved with strange markings. Blaith smiled, Kirian could not get passed the wall, he did not have the key. Blaith moved to the center stone. He layed his hands upon the tomb and spoke in Myrradynna. "Awaken wise one, loremaster of old. Awaken, Llycarsum. Awaken, your people call in their need. Lycarsum, awaken at the tread of your foes footsteps. Ghellmeck stirs the couldren of evil and your people cry for aid." He was answered by a sharp crack, as if the seal of death had given way. "Who is the bearer of such evil tidings?" a dry, faded voice asked. "I am Arglwyth Blaith. I have been chosen to seek." "The family of the wolf was ever the faithfull scout. And what do you seek?" Blaith drew in his breath. "I seek the tool whick brought Ghellmeck low, so that Gyrray might have peace again. Does it reside here?" "No," came the dry reply, "The magic you seek dwells yet with the dragons. It is in the Chamber of Xan bel Arithium, deep within the Fire Mount." "Loremaster, the Fire Mount is lost to us. The dragons decline into beasts of greed and instinct. No aid can I have in attaining its location." "Some still know in the west, across the sea. Follow the Dragon Star. But wait!" The voice took on an angry tone. "What have you done? What have you brought with you?" Blaith knew he was talking about Kirian. "Loremaster, he is of a new race. They are strong in the world, and should we fail, or should we succeed they must bare the brunt of war. Our people our not strong. Our days of glory and prime were denyed us by war. His people are my hope." "Very well. Hurry in your search, Ghellmeck will seek the Tool also. When you have it, return for instruction. Good Journey and may the Magic aid you." ======================================================================== Chapter2 Companions, part1 Arglwyth Blaith looked westward out the tower window, down to the children playing below. They were playing a rough and dirty game, that consisted mainly of throwing mud balls at each other. They had didvided up into two sides, one for each side of the creek. The mud balls acted as artillary as they bombed each others stick fortresses. Occassionaly they would rush each other with handfulls of mud, meeting in the center of the still wintery water. After one such foray Blaith turned his thoughs back to his journey. The begining of spring was a terribly time to travel by land. The rodes would be little more than mud tracks, at any time it could begin to rain, There were no berries or fuit and the hunting would be slim. Things would improve as he marched south, but in his five-hundred years he had never been south or west of this spot. A guide would be helpful, and to this end he had waited one week in Blistmas with Kirian. Kirian had promised his third son, Rianmal, as guide. Even now the two were down stairs reaqainting themselves. Kirian seemed to think that Rainmal would need a little time to get used to the idea of traveling with a lost race. He wouldn't tell Rianmal anything else, what Rianmal should know and how far he would travel was up to Blaith. Rainmal was a starch conservative, even by Genovian standards. Everything was strictly by tradition and formality. He wouldn't be the best traveling companion, but he knew the Southlands better than any other in Kirian's duchy. Even as Blaith considered this there came a rapping at the study door. At his invatation Kirian entered with a lumbering figure in formal Genovian heavy armour. The winged helm was under Rainmal's arm, revealing the image or Kirian twenty odd years ago. His hair was a dark blonde, and his chiseled features were rough with high cheek bones. Blaith stood and approached the youth. "Rainmal, this is Arglwyth Blaith of the Myrraddyn." "My lord Arglwyth," he responded in a rusty bass, "My lord father has given your guidence into my hands. I hope I shall not fail." Blaith pondered for a moment on how to deal with this stuffy gaint. For gaint he was, being fully a head and a half taller than Blaith, with sparkling blue eyes. "Yes, Rainmal. I have every confidence in you, as does your father. You know the lands to south and west of here well?" "Yes, my Lord. I spent five years fighting in those kingdoms." "Good. You understand that we are traveling in secret. You can't wear that armor." It would shout for miles that something was up, Blaith thought, and that's all I need. "Yes, my Lord, I will trade this for a stout coat of mail and travel as your bodyguard. I would also be best to travel with some small amount of baggage." "Good," Blaith returned to his seat and motioned for the two to be seated. Rainmal remained standing, as he couldn't fit into any chair or have gotten up if he did. "Rainmal, don't call me `my lord'. I don't like it." "Why don't you go change out of your armor, son. Join us here for dinner in one hour," Kirian commanded. "Oh, son, due bath away the road dust." With that Rainmal left. Blaith looked for a long time at Kirian. "Its going to be a long trip with stuffy there. We'll start in the morning, if you don't mind." "No, that's as good a time as any. At least that why father and son can't argue of politics. He'll want to take that armor with him. That should take up one horse, I'll load another two with provisions and and equipment. I'll also send along a servent to cook and care for the the horses." "That won't be neccessary. I can take care of that." "For appearances sake, Blaith." ======================================================================== Chapter2 Companions, part2 So it was early the next morning that Blaith, Rainmal and a young squire named Logmir set out in a light drizzle as soon as the gates opened. The squire, Blaith reflected, had just turned the age when he could no longer be a page. He seriously doubted that the little blonde boy could draw the sword which hung at his side, let alone use it. Rainmal had barely looked at the boy since his father had commanded him to train the lad. It was a terrible start, Blaith thought. The day continued to rain, sometimes hard and the horses slugged through the deepening mud. At night the stoppped in a small village for dinner and a place to stay. It was obvious from the moment they entered the small tavern that everyone knew that Rainmal was a knight and further disguises would do no good. So far the journey had been a silent one. If this kept up, Blaith thought he would scream. Logmir was to scared to say a word out of place, and Rainmal had turned sulky in his duty. Clearly, he would rather be elsewhere. At night Rainmal explained to Logmir how to take care of his armor, which required a horse to carry. This conintued for a week with Rainmal given sword lessons when they took their midday meal somewhere of the road. After a week they came to a large town with a guarding stronghold of to the north. As they approached the town they could hear the sounds of a mob and riot. The boys eyes began to gleam with excitement, and Rainmal began to stroke his sword hilt. That big dummy was spoiling for a fight, and if Blaith wasn't careful Rainmal would find an excuse to start one. he could count on a Genovian for that. As they rode through the towns unattended gates Blaith began to feel power being drawn from the air. It wasn't magic as he knew it, but it was magic all the same. Now Blaith began to edgy himself and drew his longsword. The riddium handle felt cold in his hands, but the blade reflected the sun with a green tint. When they entered the central square the reason for the mob and the drawing of magic from the air became appearant. Standing with her back to the wall was a young women with light brown hair and ripped clothing Her lips were constantly moving, reciting the spell which took the magic from the air and congealed it around, protecting her from the storm of rocks. Blaith's mind raced with the thought of saving her. To be able to do the feat, which she was even now doing required a great amount of control. And that magic would come in handy if he came across a rouge dragon. "Alright Rainmal, let's save her." "But my lord, she is a witch, she must be burned at the stake," Rainmal replied. "Not if I can help it, I may need that witch and your going to help me get her. Logmir, take the pack horses and ride south along the rode. Don't stop for until it gets dark, then set up camp someplace that looks safe. Avoid people, we'll catch up with you tonite." Logmir nodded and set of at a quick trot. Blaith gave him as much time as he dared cause the witch's spell was slowly dispersing. "Quick in and quick out, got it? Good--let's go." The pair rode into the mob, striking with the flats of there swords. Under the sudden acctack the mob paniced. There were screams of pain from people being trambled in the press. Among the crowd were a dozen or so guardsmen, which bagan to make there way, singlely toward the pair. "Let down your shield and climb on. Hurry, we don't have much time." She obeyed instantly while Rainmal turned his full attention to the guards. Somewhere in the city bells began to ring. By the time the witch had climbed aboard Rainmal had dispatched three of the guards personaly, and his war- horse had crushed one beneath its hooves. "Let's go," Blaith shouted and headed for the gates, Rainmal pounding behind. They slipped through the gates and headed west for the forests edge. After an hour Blaith called a halt. They had reached the bank of a rushing river. "Take care of her, Rainmal," Blaith ordered then went of to find a ford. It didn't take him long to find that all the deer tracks were converging and leading south. Following these he came upon a bend in the river. The river slowed and shallowed in the wide eastward turn. Blaith returned to find an amazing thing, Rainmal was standing awkwardly, half scared, as for as he could place himself from her and still watch her. Inwardly Blaith laughed to see this great warrior scared of a women. "Well now what have we here? I didn't have time to see what I picked up before." "Thank you, sir," she responded in a musical voice. "You've put yourself in a terrible position for me. They'll hunt us down." "I'm not worried about that, I've got my own knight to handle things, and I'm pretty handy when it comes to a fight too. Besides, I don't plan on letting them catch us." "We shall see," she said. "Well, there's no time to stand here fooling around." Blaith mounted his horse and reached out his hand to the witch. "Come on up, Miss." She took his hand and mounted. "Sariana, my names Sariana." "I'm Blaith, and my hulking friend is Rainmal." When they reached the river Balith performed a neat trick and slide down from the saddle without having Sariana dismount. "Rainmal, cross the river and head back for the rode, I'll catch up." "But how," he querried back. "You can't catch up with us on foot." "Just go." Blaith watched as the two crossed the river, when they were out of sight he turned himself into a wolf and waited. He didn't have to wait long, perhaps two hours, before the pursuit came pounding up. Blaith lay conspiciously upwind, and laughed as the horses began to neigh and stamp in fright. When they were riled up enough he charged. It sent the already frightened horses off in terror. Several riders were thrown and quickly ran off as he chased each one in turn. When he was satisfied that the pursuit was several miles distant and still running he turned to Rainmal and Sariana. ========================================================================= Notes: Logmir: Logmir starts as a zero level human of Genovian stock. Sariana: Sariana is a low level magic user. Her form of magic comes from her ability to use magic, as she has had no formal instruction and not moved on to higher magic. She is a human of Lipthian stock. Lipthians pre-date the Genovians and have fallen to the conquoring culture (Genovian). As a whole they have come to except Genovian beliefs and customs, though there are pockets of the old culture. Riddium: a rare metal that is far superior to steel and titainium. In order that it can be worked only the flame of a dragon's breath is sufficent to heat it. All such blades were made before the Ghellmeck war. Some are believed to be hundreds of thousand of years old. Shape change: Among the Myrraddin shape change into one form is a common ability. The shape is determined heritally by the father's side, thus the reference in CH 1 by the Loremaster to Blaith's being of "the family of wolves". It is not known why the various families exist or how they came to be diversified. It has happened in past that a male child was born with the ability to change into a new animal, thus the birth of a new "family." ======================================================================== Chapter2 Companions, part1 Arglwyth Blaith looked westward out the tower window, down to the children playing below. They were playing a rough and dirty game, that consisted mainly of throwing mud balls at each other. They had didvided up into two sides, one for each side of the creek. The mud balls acted as artillary as they bombed each others stick fortresses. Occassionaly they would rush each other with handfulls of mud, meeting in the center of the still wintery water. After one such foray Blaith turned his thoughs back to his journey. The begining of spring was a terribly time to travel by land. The rodes would be little more than mud tracks, at any time it could begin to rain, There were no berries or fuit and the hunting would be slim. Things would improve as he marched south, but in his five-hundred years he had never been south or west of this spot. A guide would be helpful, and to this end he had waited one week in Blistmas with Kirian. Kirian had promised his third son, Rianmal, as guide. Even now the two were down stairs reaqainting themselves. Kirian seemed to think that Rainmal would need a little time to get used to the idea of traveling with a lost race. He wouldn't tell Rianmal anything else, what Rianmal should know and how far he would travel was up to Blaith. Rainmal was a starch conservative, even by Genovian standards. Everything was strictly by tradition and formality. He wouldn't be the best traveling companion, but he knew the Southlands better than any other in Kirian's duchy. Even as Blaith considered this there came a rapping at the study door. At his invatation Kirian entered with a lumbering figure in formal Genovian heavy armour. The winged helm was under Rainmal's arm, revealing the image or Kirian twenty odd years ago. His hair was a dark blonde, and his chiseled features were rough with high cheek bones. Blaith stood and approached the youth. "Rainmal, this is Arglwyth Blaith of the Myrraddyn." "My lord Arglwyth," he responded in a rusty bass, "My lord father has given your guidence into my hands. I hope I shall not fail." Blaith pondered for a moment on how to deal with this stuffy gaint. For gaint he was, being fully a head and a half taller than Blaith, with sparkling blue eyes. "Yes, Rainmal. I have every confidence in you, as does your father. You know the lands to south and west of here well?" "Yes, my Lord. I spent five years fighting in those kingdoms." "Good. You understand that we are traveling in secret. You can't wear that armor." It would shout for miles that something was up, Blaith thought, and that's all I need. "Yes, my Lord, I will trade this for a stout coat of mail and travel as your bodyguard. I would also be best to travel with some small amount of baggage." "Good," Blaith returned to his seat and motioned for the two to be seated. Rainmal remained standing, as he couldn't fit into any chair or have gotten up if he did. "Rainmal, don't call me `my lord'. I don't like it." "Why don't you go change out of your armor, son. Join us here for dinner in one hour," Kirian commanded. "Oh, son, due bath away the road dust." With that Rainmal left. Blaith looked for a long time at Kirian. "Its going to be a long trip with stuffy there. We'll start in the morning, if you don't mind." "No, that's as good a time as any. At least that why father and son can't argue of politics. He'll want to take that armor with him. That should take up one horse, I'll load another two with provisions and and equipment. I'll also send along a servent to cook and care for the the horses." "That won't be neccessary. I can take care of that." "For appearances sake, Blaith." ======================================================================== Chapter3 Enemy Blaith kneeled at the dying embers of the fire. From the torn ground surrounding Logmir's campsite it was plain tha struggle had taken place and the young squire had been bested. The captures hoofprints were deep in the soft ground, not so deep as Rianmal's large warhorse's but deeper than Blaith's own horse. The tracks led off to the south and the group followed close behind. "Rianmal, what's south of here," Blaith querried. "Only small villiages until you come to the Great Bay. Or so it was when last I was through." "Hmm, this tracks were made by cavarly. They rode in two lines, with a half length between there horses. Proffessional soldiers I should say." "They would be Brandor's men then," Sariana spoke up. "He's a mercenary that took the town of Atwilla six months back. All the villages and many of the lords fear him." "Then it appears we go to Atwilla," Blaith said as he mounted. "Besides we need another horse." With that the trio rode of south. Blaith was struck by the quickening of spring in thes southern lands. Trees and bushes had already begun to bud. One perticular bush had already bloomed. Its flowers opened only slightly, like a deep cup. Its petal's were a bloody crimson, though the bottom of the cup was pure white. As they rode along Blaith picked one after another, slowly disecting them, looking for any resemblance to a plant he knew. Perhaps, he thought, there is some healing power within them. So he began to colloect them and placed them in a pocket of his saddle bags. It was not until the next morning that they rode wearily into Atwilla. Blaith had his hood up and Sariana rode with the uneasy Rianmal. Blaith smiled secretly to see the lumbering tower shake at her light touch. She smiled too. At the gates stood two gaurds in heavy bucklers with short swords and awls. They stood straight at attention, but did not move to intercept the trio. Their minds were on other thoughts and three travelers could hardly pose a threat to the forces within. Inside Blaith was impressed. The usual small town setting had been transposed into a neat and orderly incampment. The streets were plump-line straight and all the buildings were two stories with no first story windows. The windows on the second floors were only a little larger than an arrow slit. Despite its military reconstruction the market place revealed that this was essencually a small town. Merchants and wives bickered over the prices of various food stuffs and cloth, while men relaxed outside a beer stand, laughing loudly. Here and there mercenaries strolled in pairs, keeping a watchfull eye on the inhabitants. Blaith noticed immediantly, that the arms the towns people carried were short daggers. Even travelers wore little more than a short sword, and these armed men were wached closely by the soldiers. On impulse Blaith looked behind him. They were beening followed by two guards on horseback. Blaith realized that this could work toward their advantage. He gazed a Rianmal only to see the young fighter was spoilling for another fight. Rianmal eyed the soldiers with a look of mixed disgust and curiostity. If Blaith was any judge of the rash man, he knew that the disgust was toward the common folk being trained as an army. The curiosity would be about their skill with their weapons, broadswords and daggers. "Sariana, do you know were Brandor would be," Blaith asked. "No. Let's get away from here, Blaith." "Not until we get Logmir back." "Why should we waste our time on that little peasant," Rianmal asked gruffly. "Because I don't abandon people, that's why. Wait here." Blaith turned his horse around. The two following him realized that they had been spotted and looked at each, puzzeled. "All right, since you are going to follow me why don't you make yourself useful." A small grin passed along Blaith's face as he relishingly said, "take me to your leader." With only a glance at the other one soldier moved forward to take the lead, the second remained watching from the rear. Now all the townsfolk and soldiers stared at the party as it made its way to the south end of town. There they found a large tarred bulding complete with ramparts, arrow-slits, and arms for moving couldrons of boiling oil to dowse attackers. Brandon knew his exactly what he was doing. A memory began to tug at Blaith's mind. The style of the towns buildings and the way Brandon fortified his home was somehow familiar, but Blaith couldn't place it. The group dismounted outside the double bound doors, whose high arch jingled in Blaith's memories. Had he met this man before? Or was this man's style a copy of something from the past? Maybe it was just a coincedence? Inside they were led to a room, formerly a common hall, which had been converted into a grand office. At the far end, atop a low dais, a red haired man sat behind a large, ornate desk. Blaith's hackles rose, something was stirring in his blood. A memory locked deep inside was stirring. His wolf senses regonized danger. There was an enemy behind that desk! ======================================================================== Chapter3 Enemy;part2 Still Blaith's senses screamed at him. Something was wrong and it didn't seem to be the figure seated behind the desk. And yet the feeling was there, as awful as if he had just swallowed evil itself. The guard leading them in spoke up, announcing the presence of three strangers wishing converse. "Careful, Rianmal, somethings not right here," Blaith whispered. If the gaurd behind him heard, he gave no indication. "Keep your hand away from your sword, but be ready." He knew the big man was already reaching to loosen the heavy broadsword in its sheath. As they approached, the figures features became clear. Brandon was a man whose youthfull face had been ruined by worry and pain. A deep scar ran the length of his right jaw. His coal black hair was begining to grey, and the gotee at his chin was more white than black. His dark eyes were sunken and deep black sacks of weariness outlined them. His cheeks were fallen and his thin lips were a cracked and pale red. The color reminded Blaith of a long dead rose whose color had bleeded out in the fall rains. As they neared, Blaith could catch on his wolven senses the smell of incroaching death. "Strangers, what brings you to my capital," Brandon said in a voice that still commanded youth, power and violence. Blaith remained silent for a moment, pondering the evil that filled the air and the all but broken man seated behind the desk. His companions did not move or speak. "Sir, we have come seeking a companion that was lost." Avoiding the subject would bridge nothing. If the evil realized what he was, then subterfuge would only add to problems. "He was, shall we say, escorted south by trained horsemen. Judging by the precision of their column and the reputation of your troops, I believe that he was brought here." "Perhaps, some few have been brought as guests, that were found on the outskirts of my land. Could you give discription of him." "Yes sir. He was a young lad, with blonde hair. He would have been found encamped off the north rode. Their were three pack horses with him." "Guard, check the guests' quarters for the lad. Bring him as quickly as he is presentable." There was an ugly leer on Brandon's face. "Now, friends, would you tell me what brings you to my domain? I really must ask for protection of this town." "Passing through only, Sir. We are journeying to the south and this rode seemed the safest." "I see," Brandon's eyes narrowed. "And why do you keep your face covered, stranger? And even more why do you do the speaking when in the presence of a Genovian knight?" "As to my face, Sir, it is the costume of my people to cover ourselves when in foreign lands. I am permitted to uncover my face only when I eat, sleep and bathe." Blaith's answer was cool and rehearsed. Not a glimmer of the lie showed. He glanced carefully at Rianmal. Rianmal seemed calm and relaxed, as if no danger presented itself. The spoiling for a fight attitude had disappeared. Sariana too had that contented look. A bustle at the door ushered in Logmir escorted by two guards. He looked bedraggled in his simple clothing. Along his hair line smugges of dirt remained and his face was still red from a forceful scrubbing. His right eye was darkened and a small cut ran along his right brow. His neck was red and marked by what Blaith believed to be a rope burn. The boy had been tortured. Blaith wondered sadly what other marks the boy's body would show. As the guards brought him closer, Blaith searched the young man's eyes. They were weary and red, but the light of intelligence still showed them. They brightened as they focused on Blaith's form. Blaith turned from the boy back to Brandon. Brandon's eyes were squinting now as he glared at Logmir. The dark eye slits brightened and Blaith sensed a cold breeze blowing past. Magic! Still, it had not come from Brandon himself, but from somewhere behind him. It was as if Brandon were merely a puppet, or some other tool. Tool. That word rang in Blaith's memory and his senses stirred. It was a connection, but still a piece was missing. "Ahh, there he is," Blaith said. "How fortunate he was to fall into your hands." "Yes, really. Now that I see him I remember him. He was brought in from the north border. He was fighting with several local bandits. I owe the boy a bit of thanks. He spilled the blood of one and did injury to two more. The patrol was able to dispatch them. It is a shame he had to be knocked to the ground himself. You see a fighting lust had taken him and he would not allow my men to near him." "He does look a bit dazed, Sir." Blaith was beginning to have trouble focusing on Brandon's speech as he wrestled with link between his senses and his memory. "Well, Sir, as your time is precious, we shall take the lad from your mind." "Not at all," Brandon slurred. "His achievements have lightened the duties of my patrols. I insist that you stay here the night." "Sir, I would not dream of imposing. I ask only that you return our horses and we shall leave you to your tasks. Surely, a man of your position has too great a duty to be bothered by ourselves. "You will stay," Brandon's voice became rock hard and steady, I INSIST!" It was coming now, Blaith could feel that in his bones. His blood began to pulse with wolven force. The taste and smell of battle filled his being. "No, Sir," Blaith responded as calmly as he could, "we shall not impose." The sense of evil, of danger and enemy was taking presence now. A form began to shimmer in the chair on the dais. Blaith glanced quickly at the others. Brandon stood statue still. Rianmal and Sariana kept the contented look, but Logmir's eyes lit in growing terror. Logmir stared at the chair, his body begining to shake. Like a flash of lightning Blaith realized his danger. Memory and senses united to tell him of the awful fate that awaited him. Hoping to forestall the demon that was materializing in the chair, Blaith reached for the pool of magic. He grasp its essence and drew it in until the magic threatened to destroy him. Blaith did not focus or refine the force within him. He simple hurled the force against the chair. Desk, chair and wall exploded in brilliant light. When the flash cleared desk and chair were gone and an eight foot hole was in the wall. The shimmering shape of the demon was nowhere to be seen. It was not destroyed. No, the blast would barely have stunned the creature. It was simplely that in the stage of transition it was easily knocked off balance. Blaith turned to Rianmal, a look of confusion was there. Blaith was rewarded by the same from Sariana. Brandon remained statue still within the demons spell. In Logmir's eyes a look of triumph shone, and shock filled the guards' faces. Without waiting a moment Blaith swept his sword out and dispatched the first guard. The second was downed as he drew his sword. Finished, Blaith turned to the once proud commander. "Its for the best. Your soul will find peace," Blaith whispered before beheading him. "Lets go," Blaith shouted at the other two as he took Logmir in hand. Once roused, Rianmal drew his heavy sword with a look of relish. "Take him," Blaith shouted at Sariana, thrusting Logmir to her. After one final glance for the demon, he turned to the big knight. "After you!" Once outside Blaith whistled shrilly and was answered by a sharp trumpeting call from his mount. Quickly, with wolven senses, he tracked the horse. In the closest stable were the two mounts and a few other saddled horses. Blaith motioned Sariana to help Logmir into a saddle as he smelt the air. Luck was with him this day, as he ran to the stable that contained Logmir's horse and the three pack horses, their burdens laying in the straw. Wasting no time, Blaith called on the magic to saddle and equip them. He led them out and handed the reins to Sariana and the recovering Logmir. Blaith mounted and the party rode with the wind at their backs through the town. Like a clap of thunder the rode past the gates. As they turned south, following the rode, Blaith could hear a hissing laughter rising. His heart sank as he realized that the hunt was on. ======================================================================== Chapter3 Enemy;part2 Still Blaith's senses screamed at him. Something was wrong and it didn't seem to be the figure seated behind the desk. And yet the feeling was there, as awful as if he had just swallowed evil itself. The guard leading them in spoke up, announcing the presence of three strangers wishing converse. "Careful, Rianmal, somethings not right here," Blaith whispered. If the gaurd behind him heard, he gave no indication. "Keep your hand away from your sword, but be ready." He knew the big man was already reaching to loosen the heavy broadsword in its sheath. As they approached, the figures features became clear. Brandon was a man whose youthfull face had been ruined by worry and pain. A deep scar ran the length of his right jaw. His coal black hair was begining to grey, and the gotee at his chin was more white than black. His dark eyes were sunken and deep black sacks of weariness outlined them. His cheeks were fallen and his thin lips were a cracked and pale red. The color reminded Blaith of a long dead rose whose color had bleeded out in the fall rains. As they neared, Blaith could catch on his wolven senses the smell of incroaching death. "Strangers, what brings you to my capital," Brandon said in a voice that still commanded youth, power and violence. Blaith remained silent for a moment, pondering the evil that filled the air and the all but broken man seated behind the desk. His companions did not move or speak. "Sir, we have come seeking a companion that was lost." Avoiding the subject would bridge nothing. If the evil realized what he was, then subterfuge would only add to problems. "He was, shall we say, escorted south by trained horsemen. Judging by the precision of their column and the reputation of your troops, I believe that he was brought here." "Perhaps, some few have been brought as guests, that were found on the outskirts of my land. Could you give discription of him." "Yes sir. He was a young lad, with blonde hair. He would have been found encamped off the north rode. Their were three pack horses with him." "Guard, check the guests' quarters for the lad. Bring him as quickly as he is presentable." There was an ugly leer on Brandon's face. "Now, friends, would you tell me what brings you to my domain? I really must ask for protection of this town." "Passing through only, Sir. We are journeying to the south and this rode seemed the safest." "I see," Brandon's eyes narrowed. "And why do you keep your face covered, stranger? And even more why do you do the speaking when in the presence of a Genovian knight?" "As to my face, Sir, it is the costume of my people to cover ourselves when in foreign lands. I am permitted to uncover my face only when I eat, sleep and bathe." Blaith's answer was cool and rehearsed. Not a glimmer of the lie showed. He glanced carefully at Rianmal. Rianmal seemed calm and relaxed, as if no danger presented itself. The spoiling for a fight attitude had disappeared. Sariana too had that contented look. A bustle at the door ushered in Logmir escorted by two guards. He looked bedraggled in his simple clothing. Along his hair line smugges of dirt remained and his face was still red from a forceful scrubbing. His right eye was darkened and a small cut ran along his right brow. His neck was red and marked by what Blaith believed to be a rope burn. The boy had been tortured. Blaith wondered sadly what other marks the boy's body would show. As the guards brought him closer, Blaith searched the young man's eyes. They were weary and red, but the light of intelligence still showed them. They brightened as they focused on Blaith's form. Blaith turned from the boy back to Brandon. Brandon's eyes were squinting now as he glared at Logmir. The dark eye slits brightened and Blaith sensed a cold breeze blowing past. Magic! Still, it had not come from Brandon himself, but from somewhere behind him. It was as if Brandon were merely a puppet, or some other tool. Tool. That word rang in Blaith's memory and his senses stirred. It was a connection, but still a piece was missing. "Ahh, there he is," Blaith said. "How fortunate he was to fall into your hands." "Yes, really. Now that I see him I remember him. He was brought in from the north border. He was fighting with several local bandits. I owe the boy a bit of thanks. He spilled the blood of one and did injury to two more. The patrol was able to dispatch them. It is a shame he had to be knocked to the ground himself. You see a fighting lust had taken him and he would not allow my men to near him." "He does look a bit dazed, Sir." Blaith was beginning to have trouble focusing on Brandon's speech as he wrestled with link between his senses and his memory. "Well, Sir, as your time is precious, we shall take the lad from your mind." "Not at all," Brandon slurred. "His achievements have lightened the duties of my patrols. I insist that you stay here the night." "Sir, I would not dream of imposing. I ask only that you return our horses and we shall leave you to your tasks. Surely, a man of your position has too great a duty to be bothered by ourselves. "You will stay," Brandon's voice became rock hard and steady, I INSIST!" It was coming now, Blaith could feel that in his bones. His blood began to pulse with wolven force. The taste and smell of battle filled his being. "No, Sir," Blaith responded as calmly as he could, "we shall not impose." The sense of evil, of danger and enemy was taking presence now. A form began to shimmer in the chair on the dais. Blaith glanced quickly at the others. Brandon stood statue still. Rianmal and Sariana kept the contented look, but Logmir's eyes lit in growing terror. Logmir stared at the chair, his body begining to shake. Like a flash of lightning Blaith realized his danger. Memory and senses united to tell him of the awful fate that awaited him. Hoping to forestall the demon that was materializing in the chair, Blaith reached for the pool of magic. He grasp its essence and drew it in until the magic threatened to destroy him. Blaith did not focus or refine the force within him. He simple hurled the force against the chair. Desk, chair and wall exploded in brilliant light. When the flash cleared desk and chair were gone and an eight foot hole was in the wall. The shimmering shape of the demon was nowhere to be seen. It was not destroyed. No, the blast would barely have stunned the creature. It was simplely that in the stage of transition it was easily knocked off balance. Blaith turned to Rianmal, a look of confusion was there. Blaith was rewarded by the same from Sariana. Brandon remained statue still within the demons spell. In Logmir's eyes a look of triumph shone, and shock filled the guards' faces. Without waiting a moment Blaith swept his sword out and dispatched the first guard. The second was downed as he drew his sword. Finished, Blaith turned to the once proud commander. "Its for the best. Your soul will find peace," Blaith whispered before beheading him. "Lets go," Blaith shouted at the other two as he took Logmir in hand. Once roused, Rianmal drew his heavy sword with a look of relish. "Take him," Blaith shouted at Sariana, thrusting Logmir to her. After one final glance for the demon, he turned to the big knight. "After you!" Once outside Blaith whistled shrilly and was answered by a sharp trumpeting call from his mount. Quickly, with wolven senses, he tracked the horse. In the closest stable were the two mounts and a few other saddled horses. Blaith motioned Sariana to help Logmir into a saddle as he smelt the air. Luck was with him this day, as he ran to the stable that contained Logmir's horse and the three pack horses, their burdens laying in the straw. Wasting no time, Blaith called on the magic to saddle and equip them. He led them out and handed the reins to Sariana and the recovering Logmir. Blaith mounted and the party rode with the wind at their backs through the town. Like a clap of thunder the rode past the gates. As they turned south, following the rode, Blaith could hear a hissing laughter rising. His heart sank as he realized that the hunt was on. ========================================================================= CHAPTER 4: Meetings at the Port Through the next week the small company kept a brisk pace through the country side on their way south. Blaith, ever watchful of being followed, shifted form every night to scout ahead. Nor was that his only concern, indeed it was his least. More often is nocturnal roamings took him ahead on the path they followed. They avoided villages and most often the main roads, as Blaith was ever careful of his enemies fondness for ambush. During this week, Rianmal and Logmir continued their warlike training. The return to the old routine seemed to have a calming effect on Logmir, as the memory of the demon's mind-touch began to fade. But, at night, when Logmir looked into the fire there was a pain in his eyes that told Blaith that sometime Logmir would need to be healed. Healed in such a way that Blaith believed he could not undertake the task himself. Blaith concentrated on training Saliara to focus her gift. She was still to young to reach out to the Pool, and Blaith was not the kind to have such teaching techniques. Yet, Blaith knew by her rapid understanding of each of the focusing excercises that he had been taught as a child, that she would develop a hunger for the Pool and could kill herself if not taught properly. Or worse yet, the desire for that power could turn her to evil. So it was that they continued, with danger growing inside the group itself. Even in the midst of this, another problem developed. Blaith could not maintain the constant exertion of mind and body. It was late one afternoon and they were riding along a good pace through the forest. Spring was coming to this southern realm and the soft ground under the trees held only a few patches of snow. But spring would not wait for the last remnants of the over long winter, and here and there dark green and purplely red buds were forming on the bushes. Blaith's mind, tuned to his wolven senses, was startled by Logmir's soft and hesitant voice beside him. "My Lord, will that creatures touch ever fade?" Blaith turned and frowned. "I wish you wouldn't call me "your Lord". I'm not you know. You have no obligation or oaths to me." "I realize, my Lord, but I do owe you my life. Rianmal has told me it was your plan to rescue me, and that I should be grateful for my useless life." Scowling Blaith said, "That young knight needs a lesson in two things. One, common courtesy. And two, to keep his mouth shut. Actually," he went on, " none of you are under any obligation to me. Each can leave whenever they wish. Rianmal's father only told him to accompany me as far south as he would be useful. If Rianmal doesn't want to be here, then he is no longer useful. Understand?" "I believe so, my Lord. But I am sworn to Rianmal's father and he has installed me as squire to my lord Rianmal." "Yes, that's all true. I'll I wanted was for you to stop calling me "my Lord." "It shall be done, my...ahhh..I mean..." "Blaith, just call me Blaith. If that's to hard for you then Wolf will do. Now, about this touch. Tell me about it." "My lord Rianmal claims it is of no moment, but these nightmares do not end. He touches me and I turn cold, like the dead. And in the fire I see hideous beasts dancing around a shadow." "Poor Logmir, it is worse then I expected, but it can be cured. I am only sorry I do not have the skill. Perhaps I can bring you some ease when you sleep. As to the fire, the touch has somehow linked you to the demon. What you see is its master." "But there is no shape. Only a shadow." "Its master has no shape as yet, so its power is small compared to its fully shaped might. But even this small power is almost to much for my people to withstand. We are not what we once were, and we have lost many allies to time. The last victory over the..let's just call it the shadow, there's no need to risk its attention any more then it already is. As I was saying, the last victory over the shadow brought about the ruin and destruction of many creatures. The world was changed somehow in the final battle and many could not exist in the new world. That was also the downfall of my people, this new world is not easy for us to bare." "What kind of creatures died and how?" "They did not die all at once, some went mad, most dwindled away because they could have no children. And some fell victim to what was left of the Shadow's creature. Many were lost or have just disappeared and you would not know their true names. Though you have stories of them under many names. Some you may know are the gnomes, the manticore, the Dwarves, the Montarri, that you call the flying horse, and the unicorn. But our greatest loss was the Dracona or dragons." "But they still exist, or so the stories say." A look of deep sadness crossed Blaith's face. "Yes, but they are only little more than beasts. Once they were proud and strong. They had culture and art and even great cities of a kind. It was they who ruled and cared for the world in the open as my people do know in secret. They took the brunt upon themselves, knowing what it might cost them and others. They were a noble race and still they are the hope of the world." For a long time Blaith fell silent, riding with his head bowed and the burden of his quest heavy on his shoulders. "What price must be paid for a little peace this time," he questioned under his breath. Logmir heard only a mumble and after a long while of silence dropped back, leaving Blaith to contemplate the price. ======================================================================== CHAPTER 4: Meetings at the Port part 2 It was two days before Blaith could shake of the uneasy worry that his conversation with Logmir had caused. For one so young it seemed he had stumbled into the midst of Blaith's inner-fear. By this time Blaith was ready to assualt the problem of Logmir's spiritual wound. So on a fresh spring day, with a westerly breeze, Blaith called the group around the breakfast fire. He looked at Rianmal and Sariana with a mischievous grin and was rewarded by a guilty blush from Sariana. Rianmal, however, was as dumb to the young and beautiful witch as a stone. Logmir's eyes still contained that haunted fear Blaith had been hoping to avoid. "We will be spending the a little while here," he informed them. "Here?" they querried simatainiously. "Here. There's plenty of water and food and there are a couple matters that need to be taken care of." He looked a Logmir with a faint smile. "My lord," Rianmal began with a sour tone, "summer aproaches quickly after this long winter, and with it the season for fighting. It is my hope that I shall be able to return to my land and aid those causes I hold dear." "Forget it, Rianmal. Your Father promised your services and I don't plan to let you go. So get the idea of fighting whoever it is out of your mind, because I'm not about to release you. I may need that sword arm of yours again." "Yes, my lord." Blaith took a deep breath before proceeding. "What I plan to do is to find out what happened back there to Logmir. So we will probably be gone off alone most of the time. In fact, Logmir grap your sword and something for lunch we're going for a walk." Logmir obeyed immediately. Now Blaith turned his eyes to Sariana. "Your lessons are going to have to wait abit, so don't go experimenting by yourself. And while I'm gone you may want to do the cooking alone. I don't think Rianmal knows the difference between a pot and a pan." "Your probably right," she acknowledged with a small air of superiority. Rianmal, hummphed and stalked away. "Sariana," Blaith said in a warning tone, "your being here goes against his grain, so don't tease him to much while I'm gone. There's no telling if religion will overcome the few sense he has. If so, just run. I'll rein him in then find you." With that he got up, and walk away. He picked up his quiver and bow and motioned for Logmir to join him as he began to walk alone the small creek that ran near the camp site. Blaith and Logmir traveled for about an hour in silence, and by the time Blaith came to a halt the young man was winded and huffing. Blaith crossed to a small island in the now larger creek and sat down, Logmir joined him. "You understand why I brought you along." It wasn't a question. "I have to know everything that happened to you back a that town. Everything that happened," he emphasized. " Why don't you start with leaving the town were we picked up Sariana." ======================================================================== Chapter 4; part 3 Blaith and Logmir traveled for about an hour in silence, and by the time Blaith came to a halt the young man was winded and huffing. Blaith crossed to a small island in the now larger creek and sat down, Logmir joined him. "You understand why I brought you along." It wasn't a question. "I have to know everything that happened to you back a that town. Everything that happened," he emphasized. " Why don't you start with leaving the town were we picked up Sariana." Logmir's gaze dropped to the ground, and his body tensed up. "All right, I left the town at a canter, with the pack horses behind me. There were no guards so I had no reason to fear being stopped. I kept going just as you had instructed, I kept my pace up and didn't leave the road until nightfall. When the night came I slipped back into the trees a little ways. Everything was peaceful and quiet, I could only hear an owl far off in the distance. So I hobbled the pack horses and took their loads off. By then it was dark and getting cold, I was starting to be frightened of the night and the creaking of the trees in the wind sounded evil. So I searched for the tinder and flint, and built a small fire in a pit, like you do. "I tried to stay awake, hoping you would find me, I know you could see even such a tiny fire from afar. But I couldn't stay awake, and I guess I fell asleep a few hours after nightfall. I never dreamed riding a horse could be so tiring. So I fell asleep, and later, it seemed like only minutes, but I knew it had been longer because the moon was almost set, one of the horses whinnied in surprise. The fire had died to only a few red coals, so I slipped away into the dark. It was not long before three men came to the fire. One carried a rusty sword, another a bow and the last a woodsman's axe. The one with the sword said they must have scared me off when the horse whinnied, he was right." Logmir lowered his head further in shame. Blaith tried to comfort him with his windy voice, "You did best. You are more important then a few horses." Logmir glanced up and blushed. "Then I realized," he continued, "that my lord Rianmal's armor was there and he would skin me alive if it were stolen. So I drew my sword." As he said this Logmir placed his hand on the short sword on his hip. "Then I rushed them. I did just like Rianmal had taught me. I came in low and thrust up into the bowman's belly, and hit him with my shoulder. As he fell back my sword came free, and I turned to the sword man." Logmir was becoming excited by the chance to tell his daring story and Blaith allowed him his excitement. Besides, the boy did not yet have the knack for embellishments, and was keeping to the truth. Its was impressive enough as it was. "He blocked my swing at his belly, at least a bit. I still got him in the leg. I heard someone shouting that they were being attacked and the sounds of other men coming through the woods. But I swung at the swordsman again and caught him in the arm this time. He fell backwards while trying to get away and I turned on the axeman. Before I could find him, something hit me in the head. I guess it was the man's axe. He didn't throw it very well." Logmir stopped, surprises at his last observation and smiled. "I should give thanks for that, I guess." "Yes, you should," answered Blaith. "Country bandits don't receive the kind of training your getting, and a woodsman's axe is not a very balanced weapon either. So what happened next?" ======================================================================== CHAPTER 4: Meetings at the Port part 4 The boy made a rueful face, "I awoke with a terrible ache in my neck and head. The men were talking about what the should do with me. They had found Rianmal's armor, and seeing that it surely could not belong to me, thought I might make a valuable prisoner. Else, I fear that they should have killed me at that moment." He spoke of death with the characteristic bluntness that Blaith had come to expect from this rough people. For them death was as much a part of daily life as eating breakfast, for some even more so then eating breakfast. But all Blaith said was, "No doubt." "It was not long after that more men came riding up. These I could tell were not forest outlaws, but men-at-arms. Though they did not carry themselves as such. Later, I learned that they were nothing more than common soldiers." His face and voice reflected the disgust of the aristocracy, though he was at its lowest end. "When the melee started I grabbed one of the fallen outlaws clubs and began to lay about me. When all was over, I was standing in the center of a ring of horsemen. They questioned me, and I answered that I was a squire whose knight had ridden off following another band of outlaws, and had not yet returned. When they suggested that I accompany them, I refused. This brought me another blow to the head. "When I awoke this time, I was in a cold dark place. I was bound with chains to the wall, and it was clamy and cold. Not long after I awoke, a guard brought a miserable serving girl in. She was slim and dirt all over, and her face bruised from abuses. It was her task to feed me, and I was glad since I had not eaten since the night before. All I was given was a piece of bread, and it contained the wheat husks yet." The boy had stopped a tear in his eye. Blaith could only guess that it was for the destitute young serving girl, as he was still to young to look at it in the hard light of his peoples older nobility. "Go on, Logmir. Tell me about the shadow now," Blaith said, knowing that in the boys emotional state he might well say things that he would otherwise have hidden. The boys eyes hardened and Blaith knew the moment was gone. He could push his way into the boys mind, but that might well ruin the boy. And Blaith had only a faint idea of what lied within. It might well be something that would engulf him. "All right Logmir, let's go back to the camp now." The boy, let out barely audible sigh of relief, but Blaith caught it. Together the two went back to camp, with Logmir in the lead and Blaith studying him closely from behind. ====================================================================== Chapter 4 part e The two arrived back at camp, just before nightfall. Rianmal and Sariana watched them from a silent distance, as the two ate their cold dinners. When Blaith was finished, he walked out of the light of the camp fire and changed to wolf form. Its was good to feel the flowing out of human form tonight, as if it were a spiritual cleansing. All the worry soon drained from him as he loped out into the night. His heightened senses revealed the earth's life to him, and he could sense no outward hostility. There was no danger out here, away from the Humans. Humans. Blaith thought back on Logmir. He was little more than a boy, and had been subjected to a hell the thought of which made Blaith's hackles stand. Whatever could cure the boy was far beyond Blaith's knowledge. No, he could not even sooth the boy, unless Logmir opened himself to Blaith. If only Logmir would open up, Blaith could offer some respite. But with the boy closed off, any help would only harm the boy. It was just before dawn when Blaith returned to the camp. From Logmir's small tent he could hear tossing and turning. Perhaps, he thought as he silently entered the tent. Logmir was sweating profusely as he turned and twisted under his blanket. Blaith cleared his mind, and reached out toward the Pool of Magic. What he was about to attempt, was more subtle than anything yet, and Blaith was not a subtle one with Magic. The conduit he opened was small, no more than a trickle. This trickle Blaith smoothed and lightened before he allowed it to drip into Logmir's open spirit. Logmir's tossings slowed and stopped under the trickle, the sweat on his brow began to dry. When this was done Blaith applied the trickle to Logmir's defenses. The walls around his spirit began to sag, and then Blaith noticed it. A second wall, a black and cold escarpment deep and impenetrable behind the first. This was the demons work. Blaith redirected the trickle back to soothing Logmir, while he pondered the ebony wall. It seemed forever since he had stopped when he finally directed the flow at the barrier. It trickled off the wall at first, like beads of sweat off armor. Then Blaith opened the conduit a little more, and a small, tight stream came forth and splashed against the wall. First, a chip fell, then another and another. The wall was flaking under the same force that created it. Logmir cried out in terrible pain when the stream pierced through the wall. Blaith was forced to redirect the stream again, slowing it to a trickle of comfort, until Logmir slept peaceful once more. There was one last thing that Blaith would do this morn. He returned to the wall. The hole was closing of its own accord. As it closed, Blaith summoned his own wall, and summoning the Magic as a pick, chipped a sliver from his own. He almost cried out in pain, as a hot fire burned through him. The forces of his spirit manned the walls in brutal defense against the attack. There was no time to calm himself, though every alarm sounded of foes and fire through him. He transformed the Magic yet again, to a hammer. The hole had skimmed over on the far side with a grey matter. Placing the sliver into the closing hole he drove the sliver home. Logmir cried out in pain. With inhuman strength he through Blaith from him and out of the tent. Logmir, or what was in Logmir continued to cry in pain. Blaith looked down at his burned hands. They were red, blistered and bleeding. It would be months before he could hold a sword a sword again, and he might never draw his grandfather's beloved bow. As Blaith shambled to the river to cool his hands and stop the burning, he brushed past Rianmal and Sariana. He continued to think of his grandfather, buried in the vault under Caer Nahrgost, and a tears came to his eyes. So far was he from home and its beautiful white forests and those he called beloved. And now he had sealed his fate with a human boy. Blaith plunged his hands into the river, and the howl of his pain echoed on the roof of the world.