Chapter Five

            Swiftly he leapt from his dream gasping for air as if he had been drowning and fighting for his life. His hands instinctively began inspecting his ribs looking for the crushing wound that didn’t exist. Sweat rolled off his body like a trickling water fall or a light spring rain. As he tried to clear the blur from his eyes all he could think about was how he finally understood what his mother was going through. A deep relentless guilt spilled through his gut as he realized his mother wasn’t crazy after all; she had merely been experiencing a vision of some kind that he now was also experiencing. Shortly after filling his conscious with grief he realized where he was. The cold and damp stone walls, the thick iron bars weathered with rust, the lingering aroma of urine, feces and decay, and even the over sized rats practically hairless from whatever plague they had contracted left Mousorrow without any fragment of a doubt that he was in somebody’s dungeon. The tribe elders warned of such creations.
            He wasn’t completely certain which kingdom he was currently in but he was pretty confident in the guess of Morgalon. Morgalon was a common name tossed around by the elders when referring to humans; depicted as insidious beings that lost their place with the woodland gods and took to machines and loathsome fire. Some oldest elders use to say in all the kingdoms and dwellings in the land of Ohria the obsessively religious Morgalon was one of the last remaining ones that still outlawed being a Therion. There god Edec, the “Glowing Light of Meryth”, saw anything weird like a man and animal mixture to be impure and an abomination. Therefore anyone who allowed them to be governed by such a god treated such things as they would a demon or infidel standing before them.
            “Welcome young master…or perhaps you cannot find this dark damp place welcoming” came the deep bellowing rumble of a voice from the neighboring dark. Mousorrow looked to the gap of which the voice was coming through. Deep in the darkness he would have missed the opening had it not been for his superior vision. A big brown eye, staring back at him through the hole, he was able to pick out. “Being a Dwarf m’self, holes such as this do not bother me though the room service could use some much needed improvements” joked the mysterious Dwarf as he released a deep raspy laugh.
            “I’m a Therion master Dwarf. Only the woods do I call home. Places such as this are the creations of devils.”
            “Ahhh…don’t let it bring ya down too much. Humans are a young race…they don’t know any better. So a Therion you say; from within the Engarr forest too no doubt? It’s not a wonder why you are imprisoned now. King Cornwall cannot live knowing abominations such as you breathe his air…cough…cough…Does this Therion carry a name or did your gods not grant thee with such?”
            “I am Mousorrow son of Makhar, Chief of the Orogga” he proudly announced irritated by the Dwarf’s accusations to his deity.
            “Chieftain eh? How very interesting…I do believe my people have a trade agreement with your tribe. Agnarr Stonebeard be the name and getting paid for physical interactions be of my personal interest.”
            “Well we know why I am in this wretched place. What brings the likes of you into this hole, and so far from home?” The Dwarf seemed to pause for a second as if insulted by the question. When he did respond it was with a hint of a deep anger or hurt along with the sense of a broken pride.
            “I was once a proud champion ranked Captain in the Grock Ta’Mor. Many of Orcs have fallen under the crushing weight of my hammer. Many o’ armies have fallen because of the thunderous stampede of m’race! But m’queen ill favored m’drinking habits and the rambunctious behavior that followed. So I was released from the Dwarven army and my position. She might as well have released me from my honor…cough…cough! I was forced from m’home and out casted by m’family!” Agnarr stopped momentarily allowing some of the pent up anger to release itself without vocal expression. Mousorrow could hear his heart beat begin to slow from its pounding state as deep slow breathes entered his polluted lungs.
            “Dwarves don’t care too much for the sea so the Port City of Ragnor wasn’t really an acceptable alternative to my native home. So, south I traveled, through the outskirts of the Engarr and over the Lockmeer River. Originally I had planned to bypass the human cities all together and travel into the Horgan mountains in hopes to find other banished Dwarves. Unfortunately, m’drinking flask had run dry so I detoured slightly into Morgalon territory to find some provisions. Well a few heavy drinks lead to a loose tongued human and next thing I know here I sit. Apparently…the poor fragile fool was the son of a Duke and the Duke didn’t take too kindly to me rearranging his son’s bones.” The Dwarf snickered at his final remark towards his fallen victim and then disappeared from the view of the hole to sit upon the floor with his back against the wall.
            “So you didn’t quit drinking even though it cost you so much?” Mousorrow asked but almost immediately regretted it in fear that he was being too imposing.
            “OH BLIMEY NO! DO I LOOK LIKE THE SPINELESS SPAWN OF A GOBLIN?” Agnarr laughed. “No use in wasting a perfectly good habit simply because you’ve been out casted. A true Dwarf will not change his ways but prove that they do not diminish his abilities.” Mousorrow snickered a little to himself; impressed by the Dwarf’s sense of pride and honor but intrigued by his backwards sense of logic.
                                                                        ***
            Deep within the kingdom of Morgalon an Elf sits within her temporary quarters while lamenting her actions. She didn’t want to take the Therion to Morgalon but she knew of no other way to save his life. Her home city of Zveck was too far from the Engarr and there wasn’t any other major cities nearby that were capable of such healing techniques. Injuries involving magic were extremely hard to cure and almost always took a very well trained master healer to perform it. Thankfully Morgalon was well known for its healing capabilities; with an arsenal of druids, herb masters, monks, alchemists and many other students of healing almost no injury or plague tainted the beauty and health of its people. Deep down she knew, even if it landed him in imprisonment, bringing him was the right thing to do.
            Knock…knock…came the rattle on her door as she quickly jumped from within thought. Gracefully, as if the wind were carrying her, she walked to the door and opened to find a young boy dressed like some ridiculous squire. The boy’s eyes grew big as he looked upon her. Probably seeing his first female elf no doubt she thought to herself. Elves alone were known for their shocking beauty but female elves were more common for being able to stir untouched desires in holy men.
            “How may I help you young man?”
            “The king, oh what a king, would like to have, if he could have, a conference with you milady” said the boy as politely and poetically as he could. More often then not, in human lands, royalty required their servants when speaking to speak as if reciting a poem.
            “Thank you young squire…that’ll be all” Sabrina finally mustered while holding back a rather rude giggle.
            “Until we meet again…through the tales of time…service…I am required” recited the boy as he gracefully bowed and gently kissed Sabrina upon her hand as was etiquette for servants. The boy took off in a darting leap and was quickly gone from view. Sabrina gently closed her door while contemplating what Lord Cornwall could possibly want with her this quickly. She had met the burly long bearded king a few times already in her time spent in the human city. Almost always he would hire her as a woodland guide for one of his trusted knights against some great enemy. More often then not it was the Duke of Lancor, Sir Jason McHarold, which she had to accompany for he was well known for his fighting and was the king’s most trusted knight.
            Through a brief yet honest search through the room’s wardrobe she found a rather appealing dress. The fabric was a silky green with silver and gold sewed into the dress itself like an eccentric thorn design. Quickly she removed her usual attire and slid herself into the human dress. The fabric was gentle as it clung to her curves. Human women wore such dresses for more of a spectacle rather then traditional respect. However, regardless of the dress’ level of bawdiness, the dress would suit perfectly for a human king.
            As Sabrina walked through the great halls of Castle Cornwall she was reminded of how gaudy humans really were. Huge and impressive statues of warriors and kings past littered the walls amongst long dangling tapestries of the Cornwall coat of arms. Weapons of legend were framed on well designed pedestals as they glistened with their honorable loneliness. In Zveck, the Great Tree city of Alamora and home to the Elves, such things were never heard of. The only statues were that of trees and other plant life as the tapestries were the vines and flowers that hung from them. Elves were a much more humble people in appearance; more dedicated to their studies then boasting their achievements some would say. Now granted Elves did care about their appearance, they hated being outdone in beauty or finesse, but they certainly didn’t advertise everything they had or have such as the humans. Both Human and Elf were a proud people but humans liked to rub it in your face. 
            “Ah…my favorite little elf!” loudly joked the King as Sabrina walked in through the massive royal doors. His dingy tangled red beard vibrated as if the earth itself were shattering from his mighty bellow of a laugh. Obviously he took humor in her lack of size.
            “How may I be of service my lordship?” politely asked Sabrina as she ignored his ill attempt at making casual conversation. The King quickly caught his laugh with a couple deep breaths and stroked through his long beard.  His royal gown began to move slower as the King calmed himself and the fabric was once again able to rest upon his stocky body.
            “I intend on holding a celebration in our victory against the demoness that you vanquished. Part of this celebration will be a tournament. Now it isn’t often that I invite a woman to fight…in fact I’ve never done it. However, I would be greatly honored if you would join in this celebration of metal against witchery” proudly stated Lord Marcus Cornwall. No emotion seemed to enter Sabrina as the question rang through her mind. She knew the tournament served no logical purpose other then to boast your skills and victories yet something inside her told her it was a necessary challenge. The feeling was new and very complex; as if one of her emotions itself was reaching out and speaking to her.
            “I would be honored my lord” she smiled half seriously half with regret.
            “Great that settles it then! Squire…fetch me Lord…” before the King could finish his command to his servant Sabrina had turned and left the royal chamber. Slowly she walked down the Hall of Kings contemplating the feeling she had in front of the King. Was that really an emotion or something else entirely? Many times she ran the question through her mind; racking her memories and teachings for anything of the sort. She remembered stories as a child of ancient magic where the caster could project thoughts and ideas in others heads but she also remembered the caster had to be within eye’s sight to cast it. Was their a wizard in the room with us? Could the King possess such skill and nobody be aware of it? Then suddenly the feeling that someone was following her began creeping through her mind. Quickly she spun with her hand fixed on the shaft of a hidden dagger in her wrist band. Ready to kill she was but no target could be found. The hall was eerie and lonesome without the faintest hint of treachery.
            “Hey I heard your fighting in the…” came a powerful voice from behind her only to be cut short by the blade of Sabrina’s dagger placed against his gullet. Before she could see his face his hand came up and grabbed a hold of hers and attempted to twist it behind her back. Swiftly she countered with a kick over her shoulder to what she hoped was his chin. She knew this fighter possessed great skill so her kill must be swift. In a two step motion almost quicker then the eye could see she placed her non-dominant hand at the butt of the dagger and turned to thrust the weapon deep into her attacker’s chest. Her attacker must have anticipated the attack for he had all but disappeared sending her dagger into nothing but open air. Almost as quickly, yet more graceful, came a familiar short sword across the vital part of her throat. She knew then if her attacker wanted her dead she would have been; so she eased her stance and allotted for him to speak.
            “So this is the thanks I get for saving your life?” snickered Sir Jason into her ear as he eased his weapon from her throat. Quickly she turned on him and punched him directly in the chest sending him back stepping a couple feet.
            “It’s the very thanks you deserve for sneaking up on someone like that?” asked Sabrina with a half smile.
            “Well I didn’t intend on startling you so easily but maybe I should more often for some good hand to hand training” joked Sir Jason.
            “You really shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”
            “I wasn’t aware I was sneaking…you just seemed transfixed on something down the hall.”
            “I was…I mean…I wasn’t…never mind!” Sabrina now annoyed from being utterly confused on the events that past.
            “Well…anyhow…I had heard you were being asked to fight in the tournament to come.”
            “Then you heard correctly. The King asked if I would participate and I accepted.”
            “I didn’t think competition fighting was your thing” asked Sir Jason with a confused look on his face. Sabrina blushed with a slight anger building within her and turned her head to hide it.
            “It’s not…something inside told me to do so and it’s not my habit to ignore my instincts.”
            “My apologies…I didn’t mean to offend. I also will be participating in the celebration. Part of the tournament will be a teamed event. I was wondering if you would like to be my partner.”
            “It would be my honor, Sir Jason” said Sabrina as she allotted a slight bow in her stature and the slight break of a smile.
            “Excellent! I was just about to head to the dining hall would you care to join me?” smoothly asked Sir Jason.
            “Thank you but not this time…I’ve been meaning to go to the dungeons and check on the Therion. It really is pitiful that they make him stay down there” growled Sabrina.
            “Agreed…perhaps I should speak with the King and possibly have him moved to my dungeon. At least then I could provide him with better accommodations.” Sabrina smiled at the idea. At that point she knew Sir Jason was truly a good man at heart. At least he seemed to be void of the vileness the other humans were condoning. Sir Jason took the smile as approval of his suggestion and continued on to the dining hall with a slight bow to Lady Sabrina. She returned the gesture and continued down the hall towards the dungeons. The closer she got to the dungeons the less decorating seemed necessary. Apparently proper lighting is not the custom in these parts crossed her mind as she crept her way through winding staircases that begged for the open air.  Once she made the entrance to the Morgalon dungeon she was abruptly stopped by two of the guards.
            “State your business down here Elf!” ordered one of the guards. Both men were considerably bigger then she was and stood a good foot higher then she did but intimidation wasn’t in her repertoire.
            “I’m here to speak with the Therion. Now if you please be so kind as to remove yourselves from my path” sneered Sabrina. Both guards put a hand on her shoulders and stopped her from progressing.
            “I don’t think so Elvin w***e! This is our land…you don’t have any power here to be barking orders at us! Perhaps if you’d show us a little appreciation we’d consider letting you speak with the dog!” Both guards began laughing as their free hands began grabbing for areas they were certainly not welcome. Before their fingers even had the opportunity to graze her body she had their arms twisted behind their backs and lifted as if she was trying to push them through their chests. Pressed against the wall both the guards started wincing in pain and crying their condolences. “We’re sorry mam! We didn’t mean any harm…teasing with ya we were!”
            “Well certainly you can see where I didn’t find the humor in it?” growled Sabrina not believing a single lie that spewed from their whimpering tongues.
            “Yes mam no humor at all! We’re very sorry please release us!” cried the guards.
            “I will release you on one condition…”
            “Yes anything just please let us go!”
            “If I ever hear that you referred to the Therion in a negative manner again I will personally remove your tongues and nail them to your foreheads! UNDERSTAND!” yelled Sabrina in the most serious tone she could muster even though at this point she was having more fun then trying to make a point.
            “Yes mam we understand! Please let us go!” cried the guards a final time. Sabrina pushed their wrists into the backs one last time and released them from their torment. Both guards turned to look at her while shaking their throbbing wrists. The look on their fear stricken faces almost made her giggle but in spite of their actions she held it back. The guards quickly opened the door for her and stood at attention while she entered the dungeon. As the door closed the darkness of the dungeon embraced her. The smell alone was enough to make someone wish for a quick death rather then having to continue living in this monstrosity. Mousorrow wasn’t hard for her to find. She could very clearly smell the woods still on him over the bile that the place wreaked with. As she looked in on him through the circular opening in the cell door her heart seemed to skip a beat at the sight of him. Something about the Therion made her feel emotions she chose not to embrace due to her nomadic life style.
            Mousorrow was sitting in the middle of the room with his legs crossed. She wasn’t sure but she had a hunch that he was meditating in an attempt to escape the crude conditions he had been thrown into. Her guilt began to return but it was short lived as Mousorrow interrupted it with a smile. He opened his eyes and gazed upon her. After Semria’s death he didn’t think love would ever be possible again; but this creature was clearly something special.
            “How’d you know I was here?” asked Sabrina with a blush slowly rising from her face. Mousorrow leapt up off the floor and walked towards the hole in the door. He could hear her Elvin heart beating rapidly; which told him she must feel something for him as well. Her face gleamed at him, like a magical portrait radiating with an aura of passion, as he approached the massive wooden door.
            “I’m a Therion…as I’m sure you already know by now. My people have extremely powerful senses in comparison to other races. I caught your scent before you conducted your lesson in manners. I could hear your muscles tense before the men even touched you. You were the one that saved my life. I’ll never forget that. Just as I’ll never needs eyes to know of your presence.” Mousorrow smiled with the explanation. Sabrina almost turned five different shades of red while trying to discretely hide her face the Therion. The emotions were new to her so she didn’t exactly know how to deal with them. “My I have your name? I am Mousorrow son of Makhar, Chief of the Orogga.”
            “Oh I’m sorry how impolite of me. My name is Sabrina Vanathiel Lilythian of the Zveckian Elves; though I chose the nomadic life and don’t take residence anywhere for an extended…” stated Sabrina before she was rudely interrupted by a neighboring cell.
            “ELF! HOW ARE YOU ENJOYING THIS HUMAN HOSPITALITY!” roared Agnarr with a deep belly laugh to follow.
            “I’m sorry about him. That’s Agnarr Stone…” apologized Mousorrow before also being interrupted.
            “NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE FOR ME THERION! SHE’S PART OF THE GROUP THAT ARRESTED ME! SHE IS PERFECTLY AWARE OF WHO I AM!” roared Agnarr before laughing again and dancing madly around his cell while singing a Dwarven war chant. Mousorrow looked to Sabrina for an explanation and realized she had changed her blushing face into a portrait of anger.
            “He’s right…I am part of the group that arrested him and I am well aware of who he is. He’s probably one of the most talented Dwarven warriors I’ve ever met. Unfortunately he also partakes in ale much more then any race I’ve ever met. It took five of us to bring him in and all five of us were seasoned fighters, may the gods smite me if I’m lying.” She slowly took a couple deep breathes while never taking her eyes off of the door to Agnarr’s cell. “Anyhow he is not why I am here. I came to inform you that Sir Jason McHarold, the Duke of Lancor, will be speaking on your behalf in order to get you transferred under his watch. Sir Jason is the knight that accompanied me and also participated in saving your life.”
            “Then a thanks I owe him as well.”  Just then the door exploded open to the dungeon with guards pouring in trying to keep control of a very irate Half-Orc. Sabrina instantly recognized the Half-Orc; anyone who lived very long in all the lands of Ohria would recognize him. Gralamin Urthadar or more commonly heard as Gralamin the Thunderer, a Half-Orc outcast famous for his temper and ability to kill. Many attempts on his life have been made but, with his ridiculously massive war hammer and his doubled ended Orc axe, his malice was far greater then many had ever known. With his one good eye he noticed Sabrina and smiled a menacing grin. His bad eye, white with blindness from the wrong end of a Dwarf’s axe, was rumored to be bewitched to see things that were meant to be hidden as it rolled frantically around as if free from control. After several minutes of struggle the guards managed to wrestle Gralamin into his personal cell. Gralamin immediately began laughing while pounding his powerful fists into the wall.
            “I SMELL DWARF FLESH! PERHAPS I’LL BE GETTING ME A GOOD MEAL TONIGHT AFTER ALL!” Gralamin ran to the hole in his door and sniffed the air. “HEY ELF GIRL…YOU DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW WHAT PARTS I CAN SMELL ON YOU!”
            “THAT’LL BE ENOUGH!” Sir Jason yelled while kicking the front of Gralamin’s cell door. The Half-Orc growled at the Knight and sprayed his face with rotten meat that had been caught within his teeth. Sir Jason simply wiped off his face and snickered at him. “Count your blessings she wasn’t the one who caught you; how poorly that would look for you being slain by an Elven woman.”
            “You tell fairy tales human! She wouldn’t stand a chance against me…and the gods forbid what I might do to her for believing she could!” Gralamin laughed at his own morbid thoughts like a child pondering doing something they know they shouldn’t.
            “LET ME BE HIS CELLY GOOD KNIGHT! I’LL TEACH HIM A COUPLE BED TIME STORIES ABOUT MANNERS!” roared Agnarr now infuriated with the Half-Orc.
            “BRING YOURSELF TO MY CELL HALF PINT AND I’LL SURELY…” roared Gralamin before finding a leather glove across his face rendering him unconscious. Sir Jason pulled his arm back in from the hole in the cell door and shook the pain off of his now throbbing hand.
            “I forgot how thick skulled those Half-Orcs are” laughed Sir Jason while approaching Sabrina.
            “They need the thick skull to protect the dark cavern where a brain should be” growled Sabrina. She didn’t care to be prejudice but she had never met anything Orc related that gave her reason not to be.
            “Well I just got done speaking to the King…I probably should have spoken to him sooner. I asked for his permission to transfer some prisoners to the Lancor dungeons under the pretense that some of my guards were beginning to become lax with nobody to watch. He granted my request and gave me four of his worst…including the one I just put to sleep” laughed Sir Jason. Sabrina chuckled a little to his unlucky draw but knew his well trained men could handle the job far better then the King’s guards could.
            “Who else got picked for the transfer?” asked Sabrina.
            “Well the Therion of course, Agnarr Stonebeard and Vheylora Peone” stated Sir Jason with a rather curious look on his face. Sabrina didn’t recognize the last name which was rare for her considering she made it her job to know who to look out for.  Sir Jason smirked slightly realizing Sabrina had no idea who the last one was. “She’s a Magesword…a very talented one from what I am told. Most of her magic is shadow oriented which she pulls from her two enchanted daggers that others refer to as shadow blades.”
            “You mean to tell me Morgalon bounty hunters were actually able to overcome a Magesword? How in the heavens were they able to achieve that?” laughed Sabrina.
            “While I was making love to the man they killed before taking me!” growled a voice within a rather dark cell. A pale white face slowly appeared before the hole in the cell door and two white eyes with what appeared to be two light blue glowing pupils with no iris at all stared directly at Sabrina. Sabrina, being of Elven decent and very magically oriented, could feel the sorcery radiating within the dark one behind the door.
            “My apologies…I wasn’t trying to offend” apologized Sabrina. Vheylora didn’t reply at all but simply returned to her comfort within the dark. Sir Jason pulled her away from the door so that he couldn’t be heard.
            “Her lover was none other then Aelo Soukyla the Red Spellbinder…the King put a bounty on his severed head” he explained as quietly as he could.
            “Yes I remember now…the mage that defeated the King’s personal advisor in a duel. But I thought the duel was a fair match?” questioned Sabrina.
            “That only matters to those that actually have honor. The King doesn’t take kindly to anyone displaying a weakness within his kingdom” explained Sir Jason.
            “I’ll never understand humans and their twisted ethics” sneered Sabrina.
            “Not all humans are like that m’lady” stated Sir Jason before bowing and kissing her upon the hand. “I bid you good night. We have a long day tomorrow!”
            “We?” asked Sabrina.
            “Yes we…you wanted the request so you get to help me transfer them” laughed Sir Jason. Sabrina shook her head and waved him good bye. Slowly she turned back towards Mousorrow’s cell to find him still standing there listening.
            “Then I am to be transferred to another dungeon like this?” curiously asked Mousorrow. Sabrina bowed her head low feeling the guilt again for ever bringing him there in the first place.
            “Yes another one like this. Only in Lancor you’ll be treated much more fairly then you have been here.” Sabrina didn’t know how else to bring any warmth to the situation. She couldn’t fully guarantee the Therion’s future but she knew in Sir Jason’s care he had much better chances for a future.
            “Then tomorrow it is…m’lady?” Mousorrow had reached his hand out of the hole in the cell door in an obvious request to hold hers. She obliged him even though her doubts told her it was foolish. He gently pressed his lips to the top of her hand and released it while passionately gazing into her eyes. The gesture alone about made her knees buckle which would have very embarrassingly thrown her to the floor. “Good night Lady Lilythian” whispered Mousorrow.
            “Good night!” Sabrina blurted out quickly with a rather high pitch and took off out of the dungeon. She knew she couldn’t stay there much longer or risk possible manipulation from someone she hardly even knew. After that Mousorrow had invaded her every thought. Something about Mousorrow pulled at her in a way she had never known. Even after she had buried her emotions as a testament to her nomadic life style she still occasionally felt waves of attraction towards someone; but never like this. It was almost as if something beyond them, beyond the world of Meryth even, had written into their destiny’s that they were to meet.

                                                           
                                                            ***
      

Later that night, while everyone minus a few guards was deep within a restful sleep, evil began to stir. Gralamin, being well versed in being arrested, picked the lock to his cell door. He gently opened it so that not even the dead could hear his passing. Carefully he approached the entrance to the dungeon where the guard on duty was sleeping his shift away. Before the guard even had time to realize what was going on Gralamin snapped his neck like a twig and gently rested him against the wall where he had previously been sleeping. Within seconds Gralamin had looted the now dead soldier and kept a short sword and his halberd that he had been issued. He gently knocked on the dungeon entrance door which normally signaled to the outside guard that the inside guard needed a quick relief. The door started to come open with one of the guards coming through it.
            “Good god man, Edec must have blessed you with the worlds smallest…” joked the man before getting his neck snapped as well. Before the guard had even hit the ground Gralamin was through the door and swiftly shoved the end of the halberd into the remaining guard’s throat silencing any warnings.  He waited a few seconds while still trying to shove the halberd further in to make sure the guard was truly no longer a concern to him. The light quickly left the guard’s eyes and Gralamin knew his first task was complete. He quickly pulled the dead guard into the dungeon and licked his blood off of the wall. A rather evil smile spread across his face truly happy with his accomplishment. He walked back into the dungeon and rapped Agnarr’s cell door with the short sword he still held.
            “WHAT IN DROKKEN’S NAME IS THE MEANING OF THIS? WAKING A SLEEPING DWARF WITH NO CAUSE…” roared Agnarr not too happy with being disturbed.
            “Silence your tongue Dwarf or I will silence it for you!” laughed Gralamin. A look of horror went over Agnarr’s face.
            “How did you…” Agnarr managed to get out.
            “I just wanted to remind you that I still owe you for the kindness you showed me” growled Gralamin while pointing to his jittery bad eye. Agnarr puffed up his courage remembering the bloody night where he had taken the Half-Orc’s eye.
            “Come into me cell and I’ll show you ALL KINDS OF HOSPITALITY!” roared Agnarr. Gralamin simply laughed at him and shook his head.
            “How truly wonderful that would be…but unfortunately I have other business to attend to. Then perhaps maybe even an Elven maiden’s flesh that I’ve long desired to taste. You are simply too low on the priority list!” growled Gralamin before exiting the dungeon and slamming the door shut.
            “GRALAMIN! YOU SON OF A TITLESS SOW! COME BACK HERE SO I MAY TAKE YE OTHER EYE!” thundered Agnarr truly infuriated. Agnarr quickly ran to the hole where he had been speaking to Mousorrow earlier that day. “Mousorrow boy wake up!” Mousorrow stirred and peered around as if looking for a ghost. “Over here boy!” The Therion realized who was talking to him and crawled over to the hole.
            “What is it master Dwarf?” worried Mousorrow knowing how heavily the Dwarf likes to sleep at night.
            “The angry Half-Orc from earlier just escaped his cell and killed the guards!” Like lightning Mousorrow peered through his hole and seen the dead guards laying upon the floor. He could smell the sweat of fear and blood poisoning the air; but the dungeon now lacked the vile stench of the Half-Orc.
            “How did this happen and we missed all of it?” asked Mousorrow.
            “The would be man is a dangerous killer boy, make no mistake about it! I m’self barely escaped with m’life last run in I had with em. I be the one who took his eye!” proudly stated the Dwarf.
            “What are we to do master Dwarf? We are prisoners in this kingdom…are there not guards who will be able to stop him?” frantically asked Mousorrow.
            “Not guards good enough to stop him Therion. I had a rotten feeling earlier that he had allowed himself to be taken in. We have to find a way out of these cells boy! He’ll kill everyone he runs into! Not to mention he’s got a taste for your Elf girl! He wants her bad he does!” warned Agnarr. Without even another word Mousorrow leapt towards his cell door and began ramming his shoulder into it. Having rested for a couple days since his encounter with the succubus Mousorrow had every ounce of his powerful strength back. After a couple failed trials the door finally began to give way. Mousorrow ran back away from the door and gathered up everything he had. With one final powerful leap into the door Mousorrow shattered through it like a wrecking ball. “Now grab the guard’s keys m’boy and get me out of here!” Mousorrow checked the three dead guards but found no sign of any keys.
            “He must’ve taken them with him!” said Mousorrow.
            “BLAST THAT HALF-ORC!” roared Agnarr. A shadow quickly came upon Mousorrow; though he sensed her once she had escaped her cell.
            “I can help you Therion…I can get the Dwarf out of his cell and help you kill the Half-Orc…on one condition” said Vheylora in a tone just above a whisper. Mousorrow looked to Agnarr who quickly began shaking his head in approval.
            “What is it then shadow stepper?” asked Mousorrow.
            “I will travel with you and assist you with whatever mission you happen upon; but one day we will discover a way to resurrect my love and you will assist me in this no matter the cost. You will follow me into the very depths of the nine hells if need be. Agreed?” asked Vheylora. Mousorrow had heard the magesword’s story from before and had pity for her. Such a mission would truly be honorable indeed.
            “I agree!” Mousorrow shoved out his hand towards her. “I am Mousorrow son of Makhar, Chief of the Orogga!” Vheylora took his hand and shook it once and stared into his eyes with her glowing light blue pupils.
            “I am Vheylora Peone, Magesword of the shadow element. Are paths are as one!” said Vheylora. Quickly she turned to Agnarr’s door and shoved a couple small needles into the locking mechanism. Within seconds the lock was picked and Agnarr was free.
            “If it was that easy then why didn’t you free yourself days ago?” asked Agnarr. Vheylora looked at him with a blank stare that clearly expressed a barrier holding back a river of knowledge.
            “I was awaiting the Therion.” Nothing more came from Vheylora that would explain her statement.
            “And why in Drokken’s name were you awaiting a Therion…and how did ye know e’ was comin?” asked Agnarr clearly confused by her retort.
            “We don’t have time for explanations master Dwarf; we have a killer to catch!” stated Vheylora as she quickly began picking the lock to a door within the dungeon. Just as fast as the cell door it was open and Vheylora began rummaging through it. Within minutes she threw a very impressive war hammer to Agnarr.
            “Ahhh m’trusted hammer…now the fool has no chance!” roared Agnarr very happy to be reunited with his war hammer. Another couple minutes and Vheylora tossed Mousorrow a falchion. As soon as the weapon fell into Mousorrow’s hands he could feel the power radiating through it.
            “Trust in that weapon Therion...it will do well beside you!” stated Vheylora. Mousorrow barely had time to examine the weapon when Vheylora quickly pulled out two black handled daggers and a leather pouch. “Now let’s go find this Half-Orc!” Swiftly the group left the dungeon and up the spiraling staircase leading to the great halls. Every now and then the small party would run into a dead guard here and there. Blood smeared the walls leaving an obvious trail to follow. The aftermath of Gralamin’s savagery lead further down the great halls like it was heading to the King’s quarters but Mousorrow suddenly stopped at an adjacent hallway. “What are you doing Therion? He went this way!” growled Vheylora.
            “No I’m afraid not…his scent backtracks and leads down this way. I’d wager my life on it!” argued Mousorrow.
            “LET’S BE ON WITH IT THEN!” bellowed Agnarr. The party quickly took off down the hallway. Room after room they passed without inspection but Mousorrow was on his trail. The foul scent of the murderous Half-Orc was like a road map for him. After a few minutes on a constant run the party came to the entrance of the Morgalon burial room. The towering stone doors stood before them with bloody fingerprints on the handle. Mousorrow reached for the handle but was quickly thwarted by Agnarr. “The handle be trapped m’boy!” Agnarr lifted the handle with his hammer and gave a little pull on it which opened the door but also sprung a needle trap which would have pushed right into Mousorrow’s hand. “The needle be poisonous no doubt! It be bad luck to disturb the dead!” Mousorrow pulled the door open a little further and looked back to Agnarr.
            “Then let us hope that luck plays against Gralamin!” Mousorrow ran through the door followed by the other two. Instantly they ran upon Gralamin standing in the middle of a massive room full of coffins and statues decorating the dead of family Cornwall. Standing at least a good head taller then your average human male, Gralamin was able to look directly into the golden casket that he was rummaging through. A broken skeleton lay upon the floor with his lower jaw laying a couple feet from him; clearing displaying he had been thrown out. Gralamin, hearing the group come in, turned quickly around with a blood dripping short sword in one hand and a silver helm in the other.
            “Decided to follow my lead did ya? Well take what gold you can escape with but the helm is mine” laughed Gralamin as he began to turn again to rummage through the casket one more time.
            “We’re not interested in defiling a burial chamber Gralamin. We’re here to stop you and avenge all the lives you’ve taken!” roared Mousorrow. Gralamin stopped in mid turn and gave Mousorrow and glare that screamed of death.
            “You aren’t going to be stopping me you puny fool! I got this helm at great risk and I WILL BE LEAVING WITH IT!” yelled Gralamin. Without another thought Mousorrow leaped into the air after Gralamin. The Half-Orc was shocked by Mousorrow’s speed but he stood his ground nevertheless. Mousorrow brought his falchion down upon Gralamin like a strike of lightning but was skillfully deflected by Gralamin’s short sword. With his superior reflexes Mousorrow was able to land in a ready position just in time to deflect several death blowing swings. Gralamin’s attacks were so quick and severe Mousorrow was unable to gain an offensive move but Agnarr was already on the move. Like a battering ram Agnarr landed a solid swing with his hammer into Gralamin’s arm carrying the silver helm. With a powerful roar and a quick kick to Agnarr’s exposed chest Gralamin was able to return to his attacks on Mousorrow; but the silver helm was no longer within his grasp.
             Vheylora stepped out of one of the shadows the helm landed by, almost as if she was the shadow herself and quickly retrieved it. With one of her shadow abilities, Vheylora dropped from a shadow out of the ceiling and dispersed a barrage of shurikens landing three atop Gralamin’s shoulders and head. Gralamin quickly caught Vheylora in mid air which hardly phased her. Vheylora quickly vaporized into a dark cloud and reappeared on Gralamin’s back landing strategic stabs to his back with one of her shadow blades. Mousorrow acted on his moment of opportunity and brought a crippling stomp into the side of Gralamin’s knee and a finishing elbow under his jaw. Like a falling tower Gralamin crashed into the ground unconscious. Agnarr reared in for the killing blow with his hammer but was swiftly thwarted by Mousorrow’s falchion.
            “OUT OF MY WAY BOY! THIS KILL IS MINE!” roared Agnarr irritated with Mousorrow’s interference.
            “No master Dwarf! Death is not necessary! We have crippled the fiend…let the powers at be decide his fate!” begged Mousorrow.
            “The b*****d doesn’t deserve any mercy from us Therion! Do you even realize how many lives he has taken by himself!” argued Agnarr.
            “It matters not my friend! There is no honor in killing someone who is incapable of defending himself…EVEN IF…that someone is a demon!” retorted Mousorrow still struggling trying to contain the Dwarf. Agnarr stared Mousorrow directly and gave him a deep throated growl obviously conceding to the unwanted logic. Vheylora began pulling her shurikens from the unconscious body of Gralamin and stepped over next to Mousorrow.
            “This helm is what he was after. I’m not sure why but the helm itself vibrates with enormous power” explained Vheylora while handing the helm to Mousorrow. Just then the castle guards sprung into the burial chamber with weapons at the ready and swarmed in on the small party. The three quickly took defensive positions in case one of the guards decided to act on his own. Sir Jason swiftly pushed in through the guards with his rapier at the ready.
            “Hold your weapons! We’ve clearly got them outmatched!” ordered Sir Jason. None of the guards dared make a move outside the most honorable Knight of Morgalon’s command. In all the nobles of Morgalon only the King was more respected. Sir Jason walked directly up to Mousorrow and stared him dead in the face. “I sure hope I didn’t save your life so that you could rob my King!”
            “No sir not at all…and I meant to thank you for saving my life but you seemed distracted last time you were in my presence” said Mousorrow
            “Ok…continue” said Sir Jason.
            “The unconscious Half-Orc over there is none other then the infamous Gralamin. He had broken free from his cell while we were sleeping and murdered the guards on duty. Unfortunately for him he woke Agnarr in the process so we as well broke free of our cells and chased him down in an attempt to stop what havoc he may wreak” explained Mousorrow. Sir Jason searched Mousorrow’s for any sign of misleading but could find none.
            “And may I ask what convinced you to check the burial chambers for him?” asked the noble Knight.
            “With all due respect sir…my sense of smell is incredibly better then a humans. An infant Therion could have followed him to this chamber” explained Mousorrow. Sir Jason laughed at Mousorrow’s last explanation knowing how rank Gralamin truly was. For a few minutes he began to pace back in forth clearly contemplating something that was troubling him. A couple times he’d walk over to Gralamin’s unconscious body, inspect it for a few seconds, then return to pacing before the party.
            “So correct me if I’m wrong…you three…escaped your prison cells…and instead of escaping your inevitable fate…you chose to chase down the Half-Orc and sub-due him for us?” asked Sir Jason. Mousorrow nodded his approval which brought out another laugh in Sir Jason. “Commander Airis!” yelled Sir Jason. Just as swiftly as Sir Jason moved through the guards Commander Airis, Sir Jason’s right hand man, pushed through ready to dispatch Sir Jason’s orders. “Have these three escorted to Lancor immediately” ordered Sir. Jason.
            “Are we to take their weapons m’lord?” asked Airis.
            “Negative commander…these people aren’t under arrest. I have something else in store for them” retorted Sir Jason.