Revenant Darkness, Book One: Armies Gather

The whole thing, hahaha.

Book One, Armies Gather

Prologue: The New Throne

“We’ve done it before, in other lands, we can do it again,” he announced to his few trusted friends. “There’s nothing that can stop us now. Our armies are vast and well hidden.
“It is time we unite these lands under one ruler, too long have we been separated and confused. I will gain my rightful place as ruler! Only the fool dares stand in my way, but he will be easily thrown aside.”
His followers raised their hands in agreement, shouting as they did so.
“Execute the prisoners who won’t speak, and promise the other ones freedom if they do.” He paused. “I see the world someday united, pure. All races of people living side by side in harmony. But this will take drastic measures. Of course, in the end all things people considered wrong will be forgotten, for there will be a new earth, and a new world, united under my rule!”









~I~
Haili
  -------

The sun shone on the battlefield, drenching the world in it’s white light. Walls surrounded him on every side.
He looked around, three, four… no- five goblins he counted. Drawing his sword warily, he advanced on the dark-green monsters. One in back of him! He sliced through it, only to be stopped by another behind it. Blood flew through the air as he mercilessly cut the menaces to pieces. When he had killed every last one, he sheathed his sword and wiped the sweat off his brow.
If someone were to look into the training field at that moment they would have seen this: A young man, strong in every muscle, thick, black, messy hair running down to his neck. They would see his eyes, like two chips of blue ice, radiating life and liberty. His clothes were not fancy or ragged, and his demeanor welcoming yet hard, and pensive.
If then, someone were to know him as an acquaintance or friend, they would know him by his friendliness and quick temper. They would know he was generous and reckless, happy yet wondering, all the time wanting to know all that the world could give.
And, if it were possible to do so, they would look into his heart and find, an abundance of locked love, a wanting to love the smallest thing. His heart would show them that he was different because of this locked love he held in the pit of his heart. He was alone. Something had happened to him in the past that had changed him for good. It was the two losses that gave him that loneliness. One was the loss of his mother, who died of high fever one day when he was young. He had loved her so greatly; all of her wise words he still cherished. Every one of them he remembered. After that, he had worked in a shoemaker’s shop, and when he came of age he enlisted in the Dex Balix Army.
The other loss was his father. Somewhat of a loss, since he only had one vague memory of him: strong arms and heavy eyes, that was all he could remember.
And that is who Aralian was. The rest of his hearts formation lies in his future…
“What was my time?” asked Aralian, panting.
“Seven seconds!” Awet clapped him on the shoulder and handed him his water skin.
“You know I hate using swords,” Aralian reminded his trainer before taking a long guzzle of water.
“Yes, yes. But I want you to be trained in the sword as well as the poleaxe.” He took back the water skin.
Aralian looked over his shoulder at the straw-and-rag dummies he had just mutilated. He had knocked one right off the pole, and another had been cut clean in half. The other three were not even repairable. “I like to pretend they’re real,” Aralian told Awet.
“What?”
“The dummies. I imagine they’re goblins, it helps me to fight so fast.”
“Yes, I used to do that too,” said Awet taking a swing of the water.
Aralian had been training all day with the sword by Awet’s request. In truth he hated swords though, there was too much blade and too little handle. Poleaxes on the other hand, were his favorite, especially his custom-made one.
It had a five-foot pole and six-inch steel spikes on both ends. The blade was perfectly curved and just long enough. It was also collapsible, unscrewing into three parts so that it fit into a bag. He owed the credit of this ideal weapon to the friendly blacksmith, Krion. He had given Krion all the measurements and Krion had made the entire thing for a discount price.
“I see potential in you Aralian,” Awet said. He had been saying that same phrase since Aralian had started his training. Aralian had always wondered if he was just being nice or if he truly saw a future of fighting in him. Now, Aralian decided to ask.
“Are you just saying that to be nice, or because its true?”
“Both. I’ve been waiting for a long time for you to ask me that. Now that I know you are confident, you can begin some harder training.”
“Thanks…” Aralian muttered. “Will I still be doing regular army drills though?” Of all the training he did, (besides attacking dummies), the army drills were his favorite, even though he had to use the poleaxe assigned by the Dex Balix Empire which was a bit unbalanced.
“Of course! You’re still just an every-day soldier to the Empire. To me though… Well, you’re my favorite student. That’s why I asked you to start this one-on-one training. Some people just don’t have the talent, others, like you, have an outstanding gift for it.”
The sun was getting lower in the sky. Five or six o’clock, thought Aralian, looking up. He took a good look around the training grounds: only ten or eleven people, all of them training by themselves.
The training grounds were a part of the castle. They were walled on three sides; the last side was the castle itself. Looking over at the archery range, he saw a very unusual sight: a girl of about twenty or so stringing her bow, for use. She had dark brown hair that went a little past her shoulders. Her eyes were large and brown. This was strange, because women weren’t allowed to join the army, or even practice in the training field.
“Who’s she?” asked Aralian pointing at the girl.
“Her?” Awet asked “Never seen her before. I wonder what she thinks she’s doing...” Awet started walking towards her. “My she is beautiful,” he whispered.
Aralian stifled a laugh.
“Lo!” Awet walked up the girl dressed in green. “You’re on the training field.”
“Do you have a problem with that?” she asked.
Awet frowned. “Yes, women aren’t allowed on the training grounds.”
She shook her head slightly so that her hair fell to the side. Aralian caught a glimpse of a pointed ear. An Azgarnian! He had heard of them before: the men of the east, tall, pointed ears, light, but most of all, their skill with a bow and javelin.
“I have heard of your kind. You think women shouldn’t fight. Well, maybe your kind are unable, but us Azgarnian women are almost as capable as men!” She finished stringing her bow and said: “Now, if all you wish to do is pester me about your laws, I would like to resume my practice.”
Awet walked away in the direction of the castle after giving Aralian a slight wave-bow, but Aralian lingered. She smiled at him, and tested her bowstring by pulling it back and slowly allowing it to bend back.
Aralian noticed something strange about her bow: it was of the most peculiar color. Most of it was grayish white but here and there were lines of dark red. The handle was of black leather, and at the top and bottom of the handle were spikes made out of the same white-gray substance. Both ends of the bow had been sharpened into deadly points.
“That’s an amazing bow you have there, what’s it made of?” inquired Aralian.
The girl looked at her bow and laughed lightly. She held it out with two hands for him to take. “Why thank you, I’m very fond of it too.”
He took it and ran his hand across the cold, smooth, surface. It was much heavier than he had expected.
“It’s made of boneskeral, if you know what I’m talking about.” She proudly put a hand on her hip.
“No, what’s boneskeral?” Aralian asked as he examined the dark red veins of color, streaking through the bow.
“Boneskeral, is the substance Boneskeral creatures are made of. Boneskeral creatures are sort of like living skeletons. They walk, talk and fight and live. But, they are an evil kind. They come from Hellgäré, A place you’ve probably heard of before.”
“Yes,” Aralian said. “Hellgäré is south of here. That’s all I really know.”
“Hellgäré is an evil place. Every year, more and more creatures of various types come out of the Inferno Pits that surround Hellgäré. They guard Hellgäré and the Wilderness as if they own it. We don’t know where the monsters are coming from though, just that they’re probably planning an attack.”
“So… you killed one of those Boneskerals and turned it’s bones into… this?” Aralian asked holding up the bow.
“I turned one of the femurs into the bow, the rest I turned into arrows.”
“Do they… pose a threat to us? If they’re not stopped soon could they… harm the surrounding empires?” Aralian asked, suddenly stricken with subtle fear.
“No, no. No one even knows if the stories are true, let alone seen evidence of them. We’re sort of…” she searched for the right word, “guessing right now. It’s a fair assumption, considering the many sightings of Boneskeral Creatures and the fact that I killed one myself."
Aralian handed the bow back and she took it. “By the way, I’m Haili.”
“Aralian,” he said. “Where are you from?”
“Well,” started Haili, “a place very far away, northeast of here. Vínos, it’s called.”
“Never heard of it,” Aralian said, filing through his brain for all the places he knew of.
“I didn’t think you would. You see, it’s a very small island off the coast of the Oormer Jungle.”
“I’m pretty sure I know where Oormer is. I’ve heard of it,” said Aralian. You really live that far away?”
“Yes, that far.”
“Then why in the world are you all the way over here in Dex Balix?” Asked Aralian.
“It is a person’s right to keep secrets…” Haili said.
“…But another’s right to find them out,” Aralian finished the old saying he had heard so many times before.
Haili kept going with the saying. “It is a right for one to kill for his own cause…”
“I don’t know that much of it,” Aralian said, slightly embarrassed.
“…But another’s right to contradict their cause,” Haili finished for herself.
Aralian shook his head and smirked. Then he asked. “Well… how long will you be here in Dex Balix?”
“A few weeks. Then I must return to my friends. They are expecting me for the celebration in honor of our new king. I couldn’t miss such a celebration for the world.”
“What’s so amazing about it? We don’t have such celebrations when our kings come into power. Just a small ceremony for the royal court,” said Aralian.
“Ah, so I’ve heard,” Haili, sighed. “The Azgarnian king commands more than just a region or city-state as yours do. Our new king will have power over all the Azgarnians. Power over people and land.”
“Doesn’t it get hard being in command of such a massive area?” asked Aralian.
“You know of the land of Azgarn, right?”
“Of course, it’s huge.”
“Only about half of the people living there are Azgarnians,” she said, “The rest are dwarfs and humans.”
Aralian thought for a second. “But don’t you get mixed up and confused with all the people called Azgarnians?” Aralian stopped. “I mean, how do you keep your race separate from others.”
“A common error. Azgarnians, dwarfs and humans are different races. Azgarns are anyone living in Azgarn.” Haili twirled her hair around a finger, curling it. “In other words, all Azgarnians are Azgarns, but not all Azgarns are Azgarnians.”
Aralian rolled his eyes. “That’s too complicated for my mind to handle,” he said. “Us humans come from the continents of Kjord and Dy’Ûnum. The Dwarfs are have been in northern Azgarn forever. But what about the Azgarnians?”
Haili looked sad. “To our everlasting regret, the past generations did not keep record of our native land. They didn’t even bother to tell their children about it. All that is known, is that we came from the southeastern lands, far, far away.”
“I’m sorry… It must be terrible to know nothing of your heritage,” Aralian said.
“It’s alright. Someday though… Someday I will take a ship into the unknown waters, and search for the lost land of my ancestors.” She looked afar off, into the distance. “Someday,” she whispered. “Not to be rude,” she said abruptly, looking at Aralian again “but I should like to resume my practice.”
“Oh yes! I’ve got to get ready for tomorrow,” said Aralian remembering the Harvest Festival. “I’ve got to put my name on a tile for thing when- never mind, you’ll see.” Aralian took off at a slow jog across the field.
“I hope to meet you again soon Aralian, it was a pleasure,” Haili called after him.
“The pleasure was mine!” Aralian called back formally.









~II~
An Unfriendly Opponent
------------------------------------

Aralian swung by the barracks to drop off his weighty sword before heading towards the town square.
The town was stirring that evening. Banners were being hung; flowers had been tied to ropes stretching across the street.
Aralian inhaled deeply. The yearly harvest festival would soon begin, marking the turn of the season and celebrating the strength of the Dex Balix Military. Aralian had experienced the splendor of the festival before, but never had he been able to participate in the contests. Ever since he could remember, he had wanted to join in the tournament consisting of: a duel with dulled swords, horseback combat, archery skill, weapon of your choice duel, and much more.
Other contests, (having nothing to do with war or weapons), were also being held: blacksmith challenges, running races, push-up contests, acrobatics, swimming and tons of food contests, to name a few.
The people wishing to participate would then write their name on tiny wooden tiles, which would be drawn from a basket later on. Each different contest had it’s own basket of tiles.
Aralian had a few contests in mind, especially the one-on-one weapon of your choice duel where he could use a dulled poleaxe.
Aralian suppressed a jump for joy, aware of the many people around him. He was finally, finally, nineteen. He had been waiting for this moment for so long. Now was the time to show his friends, (and the girls in town), how strong and well trained he was.
Awet had become his personal trainer. He now felt, that after weeks of training, he was ready to take on the world.
When Aralian reached the town square, he saw the usual line of men waiting to put their name in the baskets. He got in line after a man known as Llewellyn, the city baker.
Llewellyn was not the kind of person you would want to get on the wrong side of. This was a hard thing not to do though, because practically every side of him was the wrong side. He had gotten angry at Aralian countless times over tiniest things. Aralian once had said hello to his daughter and he had raved for days to every one who would listen about Aralian, “daring to approach her.”
Also, Llewellyn has a strong hulking man, which didn’t make arguing with him any easier since he didn’t care to bring his fists into a quarrel. In fact he looked for reasons to start a fist fight.
Aralian waited patiently in the long line, hoping Llewellyn wouldn’t see him. Aralian tried as hard as he could to avoid confrontations with him. As a matter of fact, he never willingly walked the same road as him. Sometimes though, Llewellyn said things that set him off no matter how much he tried not to argue. Aralian and Llewellyn’s family had had a few fights long ago about things he had been too young to remember.
Llewellyn did an awkward double take when he noticed Aralian behind him. “You,” he grunted in his mocking voice. Then he chuckled to himself.
Aralian knew well that Llewellyn wanted him to talk back, so he ignored the comment.
Unsatisfied that Aralian was unresponsive, Llewellyn took his dim-witted and mocking comments up a notch. “Are you sure you can win any of these challenges? Y’ might get hurt,” he said.
“I’m sure.” Aralian couldn’t avoid a straight question and still remain polite.
But Llewellyn couldn’t stop there. He took the opportunity to keep his big mouth going. “Well remember to do something easy, son.”
Aralian hated when he called him ‘son.’ But still, it wasn’t a question so he didn’t have to answer.
He came up to the first basket where a pile of tiles was ready for names. A long table stretched through the town square with baskets on it. ‘Fishing’. He ignored it along with swimming, archery, and blacksmith challenges. He put his name into, push-up contest, chin-up contest, running race and staff dueling.
Then he saw it, ‘weapon of your choice duel’. He grabbed another tile and the quill, and started to write his name. From in front of him, he heard a howl of laughter.
It was Llewellyn. “Y’ think,” he chuckled, face red, “y’ think you can outfight me?”
“What?” asked Aralian, puzzled.
Llewellyn’s face hardened. “You heard me son! You can’t outfight me! Y’ put yer name in the basket, an’ there’s only four entries allowed!”
“We might not be picked though,” said Aralian smartly.
Llewellyn shrugged. “I’ll be looking forward to teaching you a lesson, smart-mouth!” He said as he walked away.
The last few men entered their names before the entries closed for the night. Aralian looked around. Decorations up. Food and drink stalls in place. Names entered. Now all he could do was wait.
He headed back to his house where he fell asleep thinking about the next day…

























~III~
Vision of Bloodshed
----------------------------

Blood, everywhere. Even on my clothes! He looked up. More of it! Blood! Men, women, children! All of them deceased!
Houses were on fire.
Fire! So much fire! And blood. I’m knee deep in…BLOOD! He took in a quavering breath.
I’ve got to get out of here!
A red haze blurred his vision. Men with swords, killing more innocent people!
He wanted to help, but was too scared to move. All he could do was watch the grisly carnage flashing before his eyes.
From in the distance, from somewhere behind the red mist of blood, a thousand voices chanted:

Long have we been forgotten,
Long have we been hated,

You trample the land of our fathers,
You fools have forgotten the power within,

You’ve locked us up and tried to forget,
You’ve yet to see what harm we will cause,

It is your nature to forget what you’ve vanquished,
It is your destiny to regret that fact,

All of this time we’ve been waiting and watching,
All of your woes will be gone do not fret,

Your woes will be gone for you will be dead,
Your woes will be gone for you must be killed,

A cunning force you have forged up on land,
A powerful empire indeed,

Azgarnians, Humans and Dwarfs you must leave,
Azgarnians will fall to the earth,

Dwarf’s gold is for us,
Dwarf lands are for us,

Human’s lives will be crushed,
Human’s fields will be burned,

But all in all,
But after it all,

Blood will run freely,
Blood for us all!






~IV~
Harvest Festival
-----------------------

Aralian jolted awake. He was sweating as if he had run six miles non-stop under the spitting heat of sun. He hung his head as he pushed off the sheets. Breathing heavily, he stepped onto the cold stone tiles and dressed himself.
What a nightmare! He thought, sitting down on the edge of his straw mattress.
As he wiped the sleep from his eyes, he tried to remember the chant those voices had recited. Grabbing his quill from his desk, he started writing it down. Maybe it means something… I doubt it. He wondered.
To his surprise, every word of the strange chant came to him easily as if he had written it himself and then memorized it.
He stored the paper in his desk drawer before eating the last of his bread and cheese. When he left his small cottage at the edge of town, he noticed the usual bustle and commotion of the festival starting. In his pocket, he held twenty harks, (a large enough sum of money to keep a man like him going for a week or so).
I wonder how much the king spends in a week? Aralian asked himself, almost laughing out loud.
When he got to the town square, (which was packed full of people of all ages), he found himself still trying to shake off the disturbing dream; the sickening images of mutilated bodies and the smell of blood.

Stalls of all shapes and sizes had been set up during the night. Merchants from all over the empire of Dex Balix and beyond had come to sell their wares. Aralian hoped to get his hands on a couple of bargains, not that he really needed anything.
Now was breakfast, and the townsfolk were out to buy some unusual things to eat. Later in the day however, the contests would start, and still later, the Great Feast.
Aralian made his way through the current of crowds letting them move him to and fro in any direction. He searched for someone he knew, anyone.
Llewellyn had baked some extra-fancy pastries today, which gave the air an enchanting aroma. If Aralian hadn’t hated Llewellyn so deeply, he would have gone and bought some of his things. Instead, he went in search of other food vendors.
There were cheeses to taste, cakes to eat, meets to try, and candy, just for the flavor.
Aralian strode along until he came to a wine vendor. A crowd had gathered around the shady stall. He pushed through the tight-packed multitude of people. There, sitting at a small table, were a shabby-looking man and… Haili.
Haili and the man, (Bart, by the chant of half the crowd), both had tall, green bottles of wine set in front of them. On one side of the table, Haili was guzzling a glass full of the dark-red liquid. On the other side, Bart was struggling to consume a small portion of his own glass.
The crowd gasped as Haili poured herself another full glass, leaving the bottle almost empty. Bart, finishing his first glass, poured a small amount of wine from the bottle and panted after taking a few small sips.
Aralian pushed to the front of the crowd and couldn’t help but laugh at this sight. Never in his life had he seen a more ridiculous thing. A beautiful girl on one end of a table all dressed in a green and white dress, guzzling wine as if it were water, and a rough and tough, scraggly man on the other side, unable to finish the last of his.
Haili set her glass on the table and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She picked up the bottle and drank the last few drops.
Bart stood up with difficulty and swore. Haili extended her hand for him to shake. Reaching out to take her hand, Bart wobbled to one side, lost balance and toppled over onto a crate. His friends helped him up.
Aralian watched as Haili marched over the wine vendor and held out her hand. The wine vendor was dumbstruck. He dropped ten harks into her hand.
Haili wore a smug look as she walked off among the awed crowd of spectators.
Aralian hurried past the people to catch her before she was out of sight. “Hey, Haili!”
Haili looked over her shoulder without stopping. “Yes?”
“What was that all about? I mean, you just out-drank that… Bart,” Aralian asked as he walked beside her.
Haili laughed. “I thought you people might enjoy that!” She kept a steady pace.
Aralian noticed that her stride was normal. “You’re not… like… drunk?”
“Ha! It takes quite a lot of alcohol for me to feel the effects of intoxicating drink.” She was carrying her boneskeral bow on her back. Around her waist she wore a leather belt, the same kind swordsmen used to hold their sheathes. Does she use a sword too? He wondered.
“I see…” said Aralian looking back. “So you did that to draw attention to that vendor? That’s why he paid you right?”
“Correct,” said Haili. “So, have you entered your name into any of the contests?”
“Yes,” Aralian listed them all. “I hope I wont have to fight the town baker, Llewellyn. He hates me for no reason.”
“There’s a good chance you’ll have to,” said Haili. “No matter though! You’re a sturdy young man.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” Aralian said sarcastically. Saying good bye to Haili, he then proceeded to wander the city for a long while aimlessly searching for nothing.
He bought a pair of leather armguards from a leatherworker who had come all the way from the northern empire of Dex Wolx. He hoped the guards would protect his arms from the undesirable bruises and fractures even a dulled weapon could inflict. Aralian could only imagine how fiercely Llewellyn would fight if they both were to get picked.
“Aralian!” A voice called from in back of him. Aralian spun around. “There you are!”
It was Aralian’s friend, Gothorik. He and Gothorik had been friends ever since they could remember. Gothorik had brown hair and intense navy eyes but a somewhat plain face. He was well trained in combat using a short sword and round shield. The problem was, Gothorik couldn’t join the Dex Balix Army because he wasn’t born in Dex Balix. Gothorik was born in Warvin, a neighboring empire to the east.
“Gothorik!” Aralian exclaimed. “Didn’t you leave Dex Balix? I thought you were on your way to the Warvin River to sell lumber!”
Gothorik stopped walking. “I was. But I wanted to ask you to come with me.”
Aralian thought. The concept of cutting down trees and sending them as rafts to float up the Warvin River to the Empire of Ogsdinra was truly and adventurous idea. But that would mean leaving his hometown and all his friends and the people he knew. This was where he belonged wasn’t it? Here, in Canthsville, he felt a sense of belonging and knowing. Not that he was a homebody at all! Not in the least! It was the fact that he had never left the great Brimlour forest that Dex Balix had been built in that made him cautious of leaving. It was such a massive forest, Aralian couldn’t imagine ever escaping the shade of its great boughs.
“I- I don’t know. I’ve been getting my gold from the empire because of my work in army.” He sighed. It wasn’t too hard of a job either.
“Well at least think about it.” Said Gothorik. “I really don’t want to go alone. It seems so…” he paused and looked at the sky, “unadventurous to stay here in Dex Balix and waste away.” He scratched his chin, “I don’t mean to make you feel bad, but I need a companion for the journey, small as it is.”
“I will think about it. You’re leaving tomorrow then?” Aralian asked slowly.
“Tomorrow, about an hour before daylight. But make up your mind soon, I hate this waiting business.” With that, Gothorik walked away from Aralian towards the downtown area where he resided. Probably to get ready to leave, thought Aralian.
Aralian sighed again. If there was one thing he hated, it was deciding on a life-changing issue. Not that there weren’t easy ones, like deciding if he wanted to live in the city or in the country when the city’s rent payments were almost the same as the ones in the country. He had made that decision quickly and without hesitation. Being in the city meant he would be closer to the training grounds, and thus have easy access to good and needed skills. The hard decisions were the especially life-changing ones, like this.
I’ll worry on this later, after the feast tonight. And the games are about to begin; I need to be of good spirit when I’m participating in them, he told himself. He absentmindedly started walking towards the town square where the king of Dex Balix would give a speech about how well the crops had grown that year and then draw tiles for the competitions. He passed by the Smith’s Guild where the master craftsman of Dex Balix was preparing for the horseshoe-making contest where two of his best apprentices would try to make as many horseshoes as they could in five minutes. It was a fine show, each one of the men rushing around with horseshoes all over the ground. Sometimes, in their frenzy, they would accidentally touch the red-hot metal and get blisters larger than an acorn on their hands. It was very fun to watch though.
Hot as the weather had become, it wasn’t nearly as hot as the burning in the men’s hearts. They all hoped to get picked for the contests.
Aralian lingered at the edge of the crowd that had assembled in the town square. In the middle of the square, which was named Derek’s Square after the first king of Dex Balix, a large platform made of wood had been constructed. It was five feet tall and about twenty feet long on each of its four sides. In the back, there were four wooden steps that led up onto it. At each of the platforms’ corners, stood a guard wielding a spear and shield, and a sword on their hip. On the platform stood the king of Dex Balix, a hardy yet soft-looking man with blondish-tan curls and a short, scraggly beard. He was grinning from ear to ear with his hands clasped behind his back. His name was Hars.
Everyone loved the king, he was a just and easy-going man with a sense of humor. But, when it came to disputes of where exactly the borders of each empire ended, and quarrels in his kingdom, he struck fear in all who opposed him. Most of the time he could intimidate the people enough to change their minds.
Aralian pushed through the widespread crowd, until he stood but a few feet from the edge of the wooden platform. He looked up at the king who was still beaming at his people and waiting for the entire mass of people had filled the Derek’s Square. Aralian squinted. The sun was in his eyes and he could only see the silhouette of the king. When he shaded his eyes, he saw that the king was not wearing his traditional garb. Instead of the usual crown and purple robes, he was dressed in green trousers and a tan tunic, and on his belt, a wide-bladed arms-length sword. That’s strange! He never shows himself to the public in common apparel! Has he gone mad? Aralian wondered to himself.
Everyone else in the crowd seemed to be just as shocked as he was. They pointed, and whispered, and stared at Hars, who ignored their murmurings.
Hars observed Derek’s Square. He shrugged and extended his arms to the sky. Then, he said: “Welcome! Welcome to the empire of Dex Balix!” He stood with his feet wide apart. “Today is a day of celebration, for the season of harvest was fruitful!” At this, many cheered, including Aralian. Hars smiled again and waited for the cheering to stop, then he continued: “The earth will always be kind to us if we continue to care for it. I want to thank each and every one of you for helping to keep this empire wealthy and strong. For that, I vow once again, to help you do it.” Hars paused. “Next, I want to thank the many men who have devoted themselves to mastering the art of arms so that we might live and sleep without fear.” Another round of cheering sprung forth.
Then, Hars wore a grim expression. He lowered his gaze as if to look into each individual’s eyes and said: “We have faced troubles in this empire before. Right now, south of here, there have been disturbances, and people have disappeared. Not to worry though, these have never been confirmed. But be wary, these sorts of things are not to be taken lightly. Now, I would like to remind you all as I do every year what the words Dex Balix mean. They are of ancient origin, from the language us humans used to speak when we lived in Kjord. By and by, our language evolved into what it is today. The words Dex Balix mean The Battle, a solemn reminder of how this empire was forged. One-hundred-and-fifty-two years ago, a month from now, two armies clashed on this very ground where we stand. The one army was from a mass of people from the western empire of Krifalur, pilgrims, who had gone in search of some new land to live in and call their own. The other was from the Empire of Nevas. The Nevites were, and still are a war-loving tribe.
“The Nevites had had their eyes on this land for a long tine, and as soon as they saw the pilgrims from Krifalur, they attacked with all their prowess, bellowing on their war horns as if to break the sky itself.
“Luckily, the Empire of Dex Wolx, -meaning ‘The Wolf’, after the large wolf they saw there-, lent a hand to the pilgrims and helped fend the Nevites off. A huge battle took place at this city, which was named after the leader of the pilgrims, Canth, hence the name, Canthsville. After that battle they settled on this land and named it -let me say this once again- Dex Balix, as a solemn, but victorious reminder of why we are what we are today!”
The crowd cheered once again, this time louder. Aralian loved hearing the history of his own country, even if it did leave them with a long-lasting grudge against Neva, the island-empire north of Dex Wolx. But, it tied Dex Wolx and Dex Balix together as everlasting allies.
Hars said: “Now, that still doesn’t explain why I am dressed in this fashion does it?”
Many people shouted a loud, “No!” and yelled for an explanation.
“Alright then, I will explain.” The king pinched the tan tunic he wore and tugged on it. “Today, I will be participating in the running race. I also have put my name into the one-on-one swordfight.” The entire crowd gasped. “Yes, it is true. Do not think that I don’t enjoy the games too!”
Hars turned around and signaled with a finger to a tall man in back of him. The man stepped down the stairs and off the platform. He bent down in back of he platform and disappeared for a second. When he stood up straight again, he was carrying a basket. He climbed the stairs and set the basket on a stool in front of Hars.
Hars nodded and motioned for the tall man to step off the platform. Then, he said: “The first tournament of the day is fishing! I will pick ten names from this basket and those who have been picked can go down the pond at the edge of Canthsville. There you will find the contest master, Sulli.”
Hars put his hand in the basket and pulled out a name. He read it, and the person who had been picked left to go to the fishpond. And so Hars did for about an hour, until the basket for the running race basket was put up.
Aralian watched from the crowd and tightened his hands into fists. Come on! He said to himself. Please me!
Hars produced a tile from inside the basket. “Zadein Fular!” Said Hars. Once again, Hars took a tile out of the basket. “Aralian Halkave!” He said.
Yes! Aralian proudly walked towards the city green, two or so acres of trimmed grass. They would run across the length of it for the race. It wasn’t that long, but still enough to exhaust someone after running it full speed.
Aralian stopped walking when he reached the city green and nodded at the man who must have been Zadein, a tall dark-tan skinned man with a heavy brow and black hair. “Hello,” Zadein said. To Aralian’s surprise, Zadein wore a thick accent from a land he failed to identify.
Aralian looked around. The Brimlour Forest could be seen from the city green along with the part of the city that had been built in a valley. All the little houses reminded him of when he was a boy and used to watch the ants and pretend that they had a small city.
He looked back at Zadein. Zadein was leaning over to one side with his arm pushed against his right leg. Then he did the same thing with the left leg. “What are you doing?” Aralian asked.
“I’m stretching,” Zadein said as he put his arm across his chest and pushed on his elbow.
“Stretching? Sounds dangerous…” Aralian said furrowing his brow.
“Nay… It’s good for your muscles. Gets ‘em ready for things you’re about to do.”
Aralian cracked his knuckles. “Really?”
“Yes, you should try.”
Aralian stretched his legs and arms a few times. “It hurts if I go too far,” Aralian said.
Zadein laughed. “That means you don’t do it enough. It doesn’t hurt me anymore.”
Aralian inhaled deeply and looked to his right. His heart jumped. Hars was standing right next to him. “Hello,” Aralian said waving at the king.
“Hello to you!” Hars said, looking at Aralian. “What is your name, son?”
Aralian didn’t mind that. It was the king! The king had called him son! He laughed in his heart. “A- Aralian.”
“Aralian? What a fine name that is indeed. Do you what that name is from?” Hars asked.
Aralian thought. “Umm… No. Nothing of importance that I know.”
Hars smiled. “Your name is-" Hars was cut off by the sharp yelp from a man on the other side of the field.
“On your mark!” Aralian stepped up to the black line that had been painted on the grass. “Get set!” He crouched into a lunge position and glanced at the twenty other men to his side. “RUN!”
Aralian lurched forward, his whole body flying for a moment. His left leg hit the soft ground beneath him. Already he could see the effects of stretching. His legs weren’t all cramped and his arms were already ready for the speed.
Looking around, he saw that he, Zadein, Hars, and another man were almost shoulder-to-shoulder. He could hear the shouts from the small crowd in back of them.
Eventually, Aralian broke the barrier of shock-struggle, and his body loosened. But then, he stumbled, and lost a few feet. He knew he couldn’t make it back to where he had been before and win, but he kept on running. Amazingly, he was able to get behind Zadein.
If I can just move a few feet to the right so I can be back in place! Aralian struggled against his body’s protest. Go! Go! Go!
Aralian saw the black painted line at the end of the field. Argh! I won’t make it.
Hars crossed the black line a half-second before Zadein with Aralian at his heals. Aralian came to a skidding stop and bent over to regain his breath.
He had made third place with the help of Zadein. Walking over to the auburn man, Aralian thanked him for his kind offer of knowledge.
“Don’t mention it!” Zadein said, waving a hand in the air. “Just remember what I said. I do not like it when I give out information when men do nothing with it.”
“I agree.” Aralian looked again at Zadein’s foreign features. Never in his life had he met one of that same color. He had never heard of a man who’s skin could be such an outlandish yet lovely color. “Where are you from?”  Aralian asked. “You differ from the people of Dex Balix, and I have never met a man like you.”
Zadein laughed. “I understand your confusion with my origin. I am of Samarodia, straight southwest of here. We are all brown who live there, except for the few pink men who wish to reside in Samarodia.”
Aralian frowned and looked at his arm. He had always thought of himself as being white, but to Zadein he was pink. I guess it depends on your point of view. Almost everything does!
“Samarodia…” Aralian bit his bottom lip. “It is a rich empire, is it not?”
Zadein stared at Aralian for a moment, “Yes it is rich… but it can hardly be called an empire, it’s more of a- a territory.”
“Why have you come here then?”
“Well… if you knew more concerning my country, you would know that at the moment it is ruled by a tzan’kyet- or an overseer of a territory when the tzan’shuo is gone.”
“Tzan’shuo?” Aralian asked.
“Ah… let me think, I forget this tongue. Ah yes! It would be a king… but with more power.” Zadein scratched his nose. “It would do you well to learn another language, Aralian.”
Aralian smiled. “Yes, but that still doesn’t answer what I want to know.”
“Oh, alright… The tzan’kyet that rules at the moment is terrible. He keeps slaves and taxes us heavily. Many a rebel force has tried to overthrow the government led by our current tzan’kyet, only to be crushed by the grand army he has amassed.” He cracked his neck. “I tell you, Aralian, this man is no ordinary human like you or me…”
“But, is your,” Aralian struggled to pronounce the word, “tzan’shuo going back to Samarodia?”
Zadein shook his head and ran a hand through his dark hair. “That is the problem… we do not know where he is. He left to go to Hellgäré and never came back…”
“But why did he go?” Asked Aralian.
“I don’t know. You see, Hellgäré is not a country, or an empire, or even an independent city; it’s a fort. It was built many years ago -before I was born- for who knows what reason.  The Western Countries used it the along with the Old Wild Land Wall. Most of the regiments there were people of Warvin and Ogsdinra, some also from Dok. These three empires strove to keep the bloodthirsty Scyohmites- wanderers of the wilderness, out of their homes.
“Then, it ended. The men vanished, and none ever found their bodies. Were they taken away? If they were, to where?”
Aralian then said: “And then they sent even more troops to Hellgäré? They didn’t just leave it there to rot after that incident did they? They built it.”
“They,” Zadein said, “were not the ones who built it. No, time as erased exactly who constructed the massive fort. But when the humans arrived at this land and began to explore, they discovered it and attacked its former owners. They succeeded in defeating whoever it was there and took it as their own. I admit it was not right, and the people who did it were from Dy’Ûnum, my own ancestors.
“Now though, it is said to be haunted by a great darkness. So, no one ever goes there; it’s as simple as that. That again raises the question of why Samarodia’s own tzan’shuo left to go there.”
Aralian sighed. I wish I could help them… but I am too young to be caught in other empires’ affairs. “So you have come to Dex Balix to escape the tyranny of Samarodia’s tzan’kyet.”
“Correct. I do not have any idea why our tzan’shuo took that man to be his tzan’kyet, because he was a good man.” Zadein looked around. “Oh, time escapes us. Come Aralian, back to the town square.”
Just then Aralian noticed that everyone had left. He followed Zadein back through the maze of houses to Derek’s Square. I hope I haven’t missed any of mine. Zadein leaned against one of the four trees in the square.
Aralian watched the king reach his hand into a green basket and pull out two tiles.
“Now my people,” Hars said, “these are the two contestants for the weapon for your choice duel.”
Good! I was just in time!
Hars read the first one. “Aralian Halkave… again!”  Everyone laughed. “Aralian Halkave will you please come up here?”
Aralian walked briskly through the crowd that separated him from the tall wooden platform. In his mind he pleaded that he would not fight Llewellyn, but then chided himself whispering: “Coward.”
He pulled himself onto the platform ignoring the stairs on the other side. Hars nodded to him and then raised the other tile to read. “Sam Goodland!”
Aralian breathed a sigh of relief.  I’m sure Llewellyn is disappointed! The thought made him smile. He looked out into the large crowd of staring eyes for his opponent.
“I’m sorry your majesty!” Said someone in the crowd. Aralian turned to the man. “I am Sam Goodland, but yesterday I fell off my cousin’s hay barn while helping him and severely fractured my left arm.” He pointed at his arm that was wrapped with a splint and a cloth slung over his shoulder. “I cannot duel this day.”
“No matter,” Hars said. “I am sorry for that accident, and hope you recover soon.” He reached into the green basket that Aralian knew held Llewellyn’s tile, and some other man’s. He held a tile up again. “Llewellyn Gluckshcane!” Hars said.
Aralian grit his teeth as he watched the hulking figure rudely push through the tight crowd. Llewellyn walked to the stairs and faced Aralian. Aralian grinned, trying to lessen Llewellyn’s courage.
Llewellyn just grinned back and clambered up the few steps. When he got to the top he burped into his fist and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His blond hair had been cut, but he did not bother moving his bangs from his eyes anyway.
Aralian shook his head. This man was repulsive. He had no respect for the king who stood just a few feet to the right of him. To belch in one’s presence was a sign of great disrespect.
Hars crossed his arms and turned to the crowd and then back to Aralian and Llewellyn. “Here are our two contestants,” the king declared. “Llewellyn Gluckshcane, and Aralian Halkave!” Hars waved his arm to two men who had positioned themselves at the edge of the steps. One of the men was carrying a sword in a sheath, a spear, and a small battle-axe, while the other man was carrying a saber, a poleaxe, and a trident. Aralian saw that the array of weapons did not consist of any smashing weapons. No maces, hammers, clubs or even flails. He guessed it was because heavy weapons like those did not need to be sharpened therefore they cannot be dulled and are just as deadly as a razor-sharp cutlass.
Llewellyn lifted an eyebrow. “What if we both want the same kind of weapon?” he asked stupidly.
Hars answered in a calm voice, “These are your options. If you wish to use the same weapon then we will be glad to fetch a twin blade.”
Llewellyn nodded.
“Alright then! Choose your weapon!” Aralian did not think twice. He walked towards the second man and told him which weapon he wanted to use.
The second man handed him the poleaxe and half-smiled. Llewellyn took the sword from the other man.
The poleaxe Aralian now held right-handed was old. When he shook it, the blade shifted, and the wood on the handle was chipped. Also, the poleaxe was off balance, which was irritating. The poleaxe the blacksmith Krion had crafted for him was perfectly balanced.
He ran a finger across the curved blade. There was at least a half-centimeter of thickness to it. Its top and bottom lacked the spikes that Aralian was accustomed to training with.
Aralian sighed. He tried to do something with the two small bolts that held the blade to the pole. He tried to tighten them somehow, but nothing succeeded.
Llewellyn took his sword out of the sheath and eyed it. He frowned and shrugged and put the sword, tip down, onto the wood platform. Then he leaned on it, obviously unsatisfied with its construction, and bit his lip.
Then Hars voiced the rules of the duel. “Two men here today will duel. Llewellyn, and Aralian. Do you both understand the dangers of this duel?”
Aralian nodded.
“I shall have you know that all injuries in this duel are considered your own fault. You are participating in a dangerous tournament. The weapons are still real and heavy so that if struck in the right place, can be fatal.
“Moving on, all blows thrown at each other must be from your weapon. There is no use of hands, feet, knees, or any other limb to fight. Understood?
“And at the end of the duel, which is decided by either the giving up of one of the opponents, falling off the platform, or being knocked out, a prize will be given.
“As you know, and as I have said before, all prizes given were bought with tax money…”
As the king spoke, Aralian saw out of the corner of his eye, Llewellyn taking some round pastry out of his hip pocket.
Without taking his eyes off Hars, the plump baker ate half the tart and put the rest back in his pocket for later.
Aralian’s mind groaned. No respect at all… not for the king, not for any other person.
“That is that.” Hars said, finishing his run-through of the rules. “Are all the rules clear to both of you?”
Aralian nodded and so did Llewellyn.
“Get ready then.” Aralian hefted his weapon in both hands and faced Llewellyn. “Begin on ‘fight’.” Aralian breathed in. “Ready, set, FIGHT!”
Aralian let out his breath and saw the king get off the wooden platform. He waited for Llewellyn to make the first move. Llewellyn’s mouth was curved into a mocking grin, but he made no sign of lunging.
Aralian stopped waiting and brought his poleaxe down, aiming for Llewellyn’s left side. As he did so, he was careful not to expose his left flank.
Just as he had thought, Llewellyn blocked the swing and counterattacked by pushing his sword down the poleaxe shaft.
Quickly as he could, Aralian retreated, pulling away from Llewellyn’s blade just as it slid past his hand. Aralian stood only a few feet from Llewellyn now; his attack had bridged the gap between them.
Then, walking in a circle he tried to find a fault in Llewellyn’s stance. Llewellyn copied Aralian’s move, also trying to spot a mistake.
Nothing like fighting a straw-and-rag dummy! Aralian’s head banged the words.
He sidestepped and swung his poleaxe again, this time misjudging his defense. Llewellyn jumped back and spun his sword down, hitting Aralian hard on his right hip.
Pain seared his side like a white-hot knife. Holding his poleaxe at the ready with one hand, he rubbed the aching skin and bone. He breathed deeply through his nostrils, exhaling through his mouth.
Aralian and Llewellyn exchanged many fierce blows after that. Llewellyn once swung at Aralian’s side again but this time Aralian blocked with the armguards he had bought that morning. Llewellyn practically stood in a pool of sweat while Aralian’s shirt was drenched with it. Llewellyn was getting tired. He was losing strength faster than Aralian.
He shouldn’t have eaten that tart! Thought Aralian. Or those hundred tarts throughout his life!
Aralian seized the opportunity of Llewellyn being tired and stabbed him in the gut with the top of his poleaxe shaft. Llewellyn let out a loud groan and bent over clutching his over-size stomach.
“Give up?” Asked Aralian.
“Ha! Never in my life have I given up… ugh… to anything!” Llewellyn closed his eyes, recovering a bit from the first shock of being hit.
“So be it.” Aralian pushed Llewellyn to the edge of the platform with the opposite side of the poleaxe. Llewellyn resisted so Aralian rapped him on the back. Once at the edge, Aralian gave one final jerk, (careful not to kick or punch Llewellyn), and sent the baker toppling to the ground five feet below.
Llewellyn landed on his back and bellowed out loud, definitely getting the wind knocked out of him at that height and with all that weight. He had fallen on a patch of sharp gravel. For a moment, Aralian felt for the man, but then remembered that Llewellyn could have given up when he wanted to. Pride; nothing wrong with this kind though, Llewellyn fought bravely. I would have given up, Aralian thought, bowing his head and throwing down the old poleaxe so he could rub the bruise on his right hip. He also removed the armguards.
“Aralian Halkave has defeated Llewellyn Gluckshcane!” Declared Hars, climbing back onto the platform. Hars beckoned to a brown-haired young lady in the crowd and who was holding some kind of leafy wreath speckled with yellow roses.
The girl ascended the stairs onto the platform and held the wreath for all to see. The crowd cheered and clapped their hands. Aralian’s head began to spin. Such glory! Praise!
Aralian watched as Hars picked the poleaxe from the wooden platform top and handed it to him. “Hold this… they like it,” Hars said and nodded to the cheering crowd.
Aralian accepted the weapon and stood, facing the multitude of people. Then, the girl placed the wreath on Aralian’s head and stood back also clapping.
“Thank you!” said Aralian as he waved with his free hand.
Two men attended to Llewellyn who was red-faced and humiliated and still lying in the gravel.
Aralian couldn’t quite remember the prize the winner last year had won, it was something valuable though.
“Aralian has won and will be awarded this:” Hars paused and gestured to the back of the platform, “Two books!”
Aralian spun around. A man stood there holding two large, leather-bound volumes. One was black and the other brown.
His heart leapt. Never, ever, had he imagined owning a book, or two! It must have cost a fortune to get them.
Hars said: “One, is of human and dwarf history and custom. The other is of language; Samarodian, Dwarf, and Azgarnian.”
Aralian was speechless. Finally, after holding the books for a while he managed to say thank you.
“Not a problem. They were bought from the library for a low price.” Hars held out his hand and Aralian passed the two volumes to him. “But, if you look inside…” Hars opened the brown language book, “you will find them in excellent condition!” He held the book so Aralian could see and flipped through the tanned pages. “Not a mark or tear,” said Hars.
Aralian took the books and then gave the poleaxe to the weapon carrier man. “You may go now Aralian,” Hars whispered.
“Alright.” Aralian walked down the stairs, went around the platform, and back into the crowd.
-“Well done lad!” said a wiry man approaching him. “Y’ fought well.”
“Thank you sir!” Aralian said.
“I agree!” said another, shorter man. “Splendid work there indeed!”
“How’s yer hip there?” asked the wiry man.
“Feeling better, but it still throbs,” he responded.
“Ah! That Llewellyn… never did like ‘im!” said the shorter man.
“Why?”
“He’s so… pompous.” The shorter man crossed his arms.
“Oh?” asked Aralian, trying to get rid of the two so he could bring the books back to his house.
“Yeah,” said the wiry man. “Like he’s the king or someone important.”
“That’s because he was a General in the Dex Balix Army,” the shorter man said smugly. “And I worked under his command as a knight!”
“Yer a bloody liar, Rillinger!” the wiry man exclaimed. “Yer just a farmer! I’ve know ye fer eighteen years and you were never!”
Aralian began to back away.
“Was too Fanon! Served for twenty years in the army then quit!”
Fanon stared unbelievingly for a moment, and then he shook his head. “Yeah? Yeah… I believe you.”
Aralian stopped walking back. A thought had occurred. “Llewellyn was a General in the Dex Balix army?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Rillinger said, “an’ a right good one too. Helped defeat the Nevites on their second raid, twenty years past.”
“Must’ve been when he had a slimmer size!” said Fanon, chuckling.
General is a high rank, though Aralian. It was fifth above and third under. Aralian was only a Soldier, second rank; above Trainer and below Knight. Above Knights, commanded Leaders, who were commanded by Generals. Then, Generals took their orders from Battle Commanders, who did as the one and only War Master, (Hars), said.
“Well…” started Aralian, “I should get going now…”
“Yes, go then if you must!” said Fanon.
So Aralian headed home to drop off the books and returned for the rest of the festival… and the feast.






~V~
Feasting on Decisions
------------------------------

Aralian was not picked for any of the other contests but he did have fun watching them. He hadn’t seen Gothorik at all since the morning, but he had caught a glimpse of Haili. The fact that Gothorik was not around made Aralian wonder, he usually watched the festival with enthusiasm.
As the games came to a close, the large bell in the Tower of Canthsville gave seven loud clangs.
Seven o’clock.
The Feast would begin in a half-hour. There was much to be done. The tables and benches needed to be set. All the bread-plates had to be put and the napkins folded. Aralian helped with all this. When done, the entire town square was filled with long tables. Green and gold silk runners stretched down the long tables. The two colors were of the Dex Balix flag; green for the forest, and gold for wealth.
When the tables were set and ready, Aralian and the other townspeople turned to face the castle, which stood only a tenth of a mile south of Derek’s Square.
Out of the open portcullis, came a parade of food-carriers. The scent began to waft before the food was visible: cooked meet and sweet smells.
Aralian looked around. People were sitting down now, ready to eat. He sat at the middle table, reserved for people in the army, the king, queen, king’s family, guests and foreigners, and wealthy people. He had a good spot; it was very near where they would put the main dish: roast mountain reingoat v. Across from him was an empty chair.
After a while Gothorik came and sat down on the bench beside him. Aralian greeted him.
“Are you allowed at this table Gothorik?” he asked.
“I’m still a foreigner!’ Gothorik answered.
Aralian laughed. The roast mountain reingoat was set right in front of Gothorik. Gothorik’s eyes widened. “It’s huge!” he said.
And it was, the size of a horse, in fact. Not like a regular farm goat. “Where do these monsters come from?” asked Gothorik.
“The Fangs of Rooknard,” said a food-carrier, referring to the craggy cliffs that stretched from northern Dex Wolx, to Hellgäré. The name was from a giant wolf named Rooknard who led his pack throughout The Fangs of Rooknard in search of food. The Fangs of Rooknard were very much avoided and hated by people because of its bad reputation. There were many superstitions about the place. Legend said that Rooknard was as large as a mountain reingoat. He was tan and gray, eyes brass-yellow. His teeth grew in rows, sticking every which way and covered with blood. The cliffs were named after these brutish fangs.
“Not much of a monster compared to Rooknard!” said Aralian, to Gothorik as a large clay pitcher of apple wine was set in front of him.
Gothorik laughed. “Right you are, Aralian,” he said. “But, of course… you don’t really believe in Rooknard do you?”
“Well,” said Aralian, “I’m not so skeptical… People have found large wolf tracks.”
“Hmm…” Gothorik reached for a chicken leg in front of him. “Maybe… I don’t want to scare myself though!” He smiled and bit into the meat like a hungry dog.
Aralian looked up and down the table. It was covered with all sorts of food: puddings, pies, meats, fruits, bread, salads, fish, and vegetables.
To drink: many kinds of wines, whiskey and ale, water and spiced punch, and a large variety of juices.
He smelled the air and his stomach grumbled and squirmed. It was getting dark, so men were lighting torches. Across from him, Haili walked over and sat down on the empty chair. Aralian observed that she did not have her bow with her.
“Hello Aralian,” she said pouring some apple wine into her cup.
“Hi Haili!” said Aralian cheerily. “How’s it going?
“Well,” she said without looking at him.
“Well to know.”
Then Gothorik nudged him softly in the ribs with his elbow. “What?” asked Aralian.
Gothorik’s mouth was now full of reingoat so what he said sounded a bit like: “Ain’ shei uh beaut’… h’ lon’ y’ no ur f’?”
“How long have I known her for?” asked Aralian.
Gothorik gulped down the food. “Yeah, how long?”
“Since yesterday, why d’you ask?” Aralian said, looking at Gothorik.
“Hmph…” Gothorik sort of grinned and said: “Well… y’know, you’re not betrothed or anything… so…”
“Gothorik… she’s an Azgarnian!” said Aralian leaning towards Gothorik and shaking his head.
Gothorik did a sort of freezing-in-time-biting-lip thing and glanced over at Haili, who was chiding a man who had just burped loudly.
“An Azgarnian? Truth? Why is she here?” he asked.
“She wont tell me why she’s here but look at her ears, they’re pointed. All Azgarnians have pointed ears like that.”
“I know! I know!” Gothorik threw his hands up. “What’s wrong with her though? I mean, I have heard of a few Azgarnian-human marriages before.” He took a bite of a potato before he said more. “My great, great uncle married one! Had three children! Strange looking kids though…” He scratched his forehead. “They seemed even like a different race… I guess they were sort of…”
“She’s not my sort anyway,” said Aralian, who now decided he had better start eating. He ate his way through a slab of reingoat, two baked potatoes, a beef and carrot pasty, and an interesting clamberry pie, spiced with charrk, all the while listening in on the discussion between Haili and Gothorik about weather dragons were reptiles or another animal group altogether, Gothorik supporting the idea that they were a different animal group. It ended up in Haili asking, (rather loudly), if Gothorik had ever actually seen one. His answer was a meek, almost whispered, ‘no’.
“Dragons have scales, they lay eggs, and breathe air, all attributes of a reptile, just another kind. Snakes, lizards, turtles, and- dragons.”
Gothorik looked to Aralian for support, even though Aralian was positive he was convinced. Aralian just shrugged and resumed eating.
When he was finished and about to explode with fullness, he sat back and pinched off a bit of his bread plate. He now held that lazy, fat, satisfaction of being full.
Night had fully settled in, turning the sky inky black. A couple clouds drifted around the orange-tinted moon that hung low in the sky that night. Aralian closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the peacefulness in the drone of conversation around him.
Then Gothorik spoke: “So… Aralian?”
Already Aralian knew what the question was going to be: ‘are you coming logging with me?’ He regretted not having thought about it all day. Now he had to think of an answer.
“Yes Gothorik?” asked Aralian.
“Have you thought about what I asked you? Logging?” said Gothorik, fiddling with the green and gold table runner.
Aralian’s mind raced, with all his heart he did not want to disappoint Gothorik, but then he wanted to stay. This was his life and his home. He would stay.
“Aralian?”
“I- I’m not coming,” Aralian breathed deeply, it was done; he had said it.
Gothorik frowned and his eyes glinted in the torchlight. “So it’s settled then? I go alone?” He looked Aralian straight in the eyes. “So be it! If you’d rather stay here in the stupid army that I can’t even join, kissing the feet of the feudal leaders and mooching off the Empire because you’re ‘training’, I’ll go by myself! Some ‘best friend’ you are! See you around, Halkave!”
Gothorik slammed his fist on the table, upsetting the nearest pudding. Then, without another word, he stomped off.
Gothorik’s words struck Aralian hard. He had never thought of it that way. Unable to enjoy the night any longer he left the table and headed off toward his house just as the towers’ bell clanged nine times.
At home, he didn’t even bother to light a candle. He undressed and fell asleep, wondering how his life would have been different if he had told Gothorik he was going.






















~VI~
A Trip to Totter Hill
-----------------------------

Clang… Clang… Clang… Clang…
Unconsciously Aralian noted that it was four o’clock in the morning. Without opening his eyes he lay there in bed, One hour before sunrise… he thought wearily. Gothorik will be leaving soon.
Not able to fall asleep again, he stood and dressed himself. Pulling open the door and taking in the air around him, a white piece of paper tacked the door caught his eye. He pulled the paper off and read:

Aralian,
I just want to remind you, even though you already decided not to come with me, if you change your mind, I’ll be at Totter Hill tonight. There’s an inn on the east side called ‘The Full Mug Inn and Bar’.
Just take the road south thirty miles or so and you’ll find the little village. I’ll be there, if you hurry you can catch up to me; I don’t own a horse.
I want to apologize about how I responded to your decline, and I want you to know that you are still my closest friend.
I will be expecting you until early tomorrow.

~Gothorik Lexarg

Aralian became frantic. He now wanted to go with Gothorik no matter what he left behind. How could he ever have said no?
Hurriedly, he folded the letter and stuffed it into his pocket.
He grabbed his leather pack and tossed all his clothes into it. Next he took his quill and ink, his two books, one hundred harks, and last, his poleaxe in three pieces. He strapped his knife to his belt and armguards to his wrists. Half way out the door, he remembered something.
He ran back inside his one-room house and opened his desk drawer. He took out a fresh piece of paper and wrote, addressing many people he knew. He told them he would be gone a long time and not to worry, finishing it by telling his landlord to end his rent of the house.
Then out of the desk he drew the writing of his dream and put that in his pack. He locked the door of his old house and set the key at the edge of the door. Then he tacked his letter on the door with the same tack Gothorik had used, hoping that the eaves would protect it enough from the rain.
He stood back and looked at the house, wondering when he would see it again. By now the sun was just reaching the tops of the trees. Aralian waited no longer and trudged off along the dusty road, past all the dark houses, and finally the castle.
Once out of town, he looked back again at all the buildings: the clock tower, the cold, stone castle, and the countless shops and houses.
So many memories…
Now he stood with wheat fields on either side of him. This was the outskirts of Canthsville; no crops were grown inside the city.
Looking away from his hometown, he could see the forest. Dark browns and greens looming in the distance. He had almost reached them when, what he had thought to be a scarecrow, called out to him from a field to his right.
“Is that you Aralian?” asked the farmer, leaning on his scythe.
“Yeah…” but Aralian had no idea who was calling to him, someone with a hoarse voice.
“Where are you going?” asked the farmer, now drawing nearer.
Now the voice was vaguely familiar, almost like a relative not seen in a long while. “I am leaving Canthsville. For a long time I suppose.”
“Oh?” The farmer was now near enough to see his face, which was also familiar. “I see confusion on your face, Aralian. C’mon, you don’t know who I am?”
Aralian stared at the man. Yes! He knew! It was his mother’s brother, his uncle! He had gray-black hair and deep-set brown eyes, standing a little taller than Aralian.
“Uncle Gregory!” Aralian said, running out into the field to meet him.
“Ha, ha! I knew you’d remember me if you squinted your eyes, bit your lip, and scratched your head!” He gave Aralian a big one-armed hug.
Aralian laughed too. He had some very fond memories of sitting on his uncle’s lap, while Gregory told him stories about goblins, and dragons, and fair maidens.
“How did you remember me?” asked Aralian. “It must have been years since I saw you last.”
“Ah! But not since I saw you last,” said Gregory.
“Yesterday, right?” asked Aralian, shifting the pack on his shoulders.
“Yes. I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn’t find you after you defeated Llewellyn.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Ah, never you mind. I can see you now!” Gregory smiled and looked Aralian over. “My you’ve become a man!”
“Thank you,” said Aralian. “How’re you feeling?”
“Oh, I’m doing fine…”
“And your wife?” asked Aralian.
Gregory looked at the ground. “Died. Three years ago…” he said sadly. Quickly though, he recovered from his mournful face and said: “Valiad your cousin is grown now. He left to go logging on the Warvin River. Heard there was a new craze for it actually. Some new company called ‘The Warvin Timber Company’, offerin’ a load of money for new workers.”
“Hey! That’s where I’m off to, too!” said Aralian.
“Really? Well, that’s a change! I thought you now worked for the army.”
Aralian explained to his uncle why he had left the army.
“Well then, you should be on your way!” said Gregory. “I wouldn’t want your friend to be waitin’ for too long.”
“Okay. You’re right. I’ll go now. Good day uncle!” Aralian turned to leave.
“Wait a minute Aralian!” said Gregory. Aralian turned around. Gregory took something out of his pocket. It was a letter, unsealed and written on old paper. “Here,” Gregory held out the paper, “it’s for Valiad. I was going to send it to him by the Mail Horse but I suppose you’ll take it faster, more directly.”
Aralian took the letter from the man and put it in his pack along with the dream. Without saying good-bye again to his uncle, Aralian left with only curt and serious nod from Gregory, as if to say, ‘be careful out there boy…’
He made it after that into the dark woods of the Brimlour forest. Out of respect for others’ privacy, he did not read the letter.
These woods were beautiful, mainly consisting of white oak and sugar maple with a few patches here and there of poplar. Bunnies bounced across the paths now and then, running from one rabbit way to another. Angry squirrels chattered at him from high in the trees, angry with him for to reason.
On the side of the path, scarcely seen, were cautious fawns, does, and antlered bucks. Once Aralian spotted the tail of a fox. He saw turkeys almost every ten minutes, and even saw a pheasant. But what he saw the most were chickadees and robins, jumping along with him as though curious as to where he was going.
Aralian, having no food along with him stopped to pick clamberries, elderberries, and blackberries whenever he found them. They barely kept his hunger at bay.
The road was just two deep ruts in the ground from wagons passing by. Aralian wished a wagon would come in the direction he was going; maybe he could pay the driver to take him to Totter Hill. But the only ones he saw were two going towards Canthsville.
He walked briskly, whistling and humming to pass the time. After what must have been ten hours of walking almost nonstop, judging by the movement of the sun, he reached a junction where a signpost stood at the edge of the road. It read:

~North to Canthsville [25 mi.] & Dex Wolx~
~South to Totter Hill [5 mi.] & The Warvin River~
~East to The Fangs of Rooknard Mountain Pass & Warvin~
~West to Starix Fields & Mrillo~

Aralian examined the signpost for a moment. Only five miles left to go? he thought.
He broke into a run. Only five miles! his mind repeated.
He jogged for nearly another hour and a half until he came to a steep incline in the earth. Atop the hill were houses and such, some built precariously at the edge of cliffs. It was an attractive little village, somewhat sloppily built. A stream wound throughout it, beginning at the top of the hill at a large bubbling spring in the town square. There were many children playing in the streets. More, Aralian thought, than he usually saw in Canthsville.
So this is Totter Hill… he thought. The name fits like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle.
Almost immediately he found ‘The Full Mug Inn and Bar’. Its sign creaked in the breeze, depicting a tin mug with sloshing ale in it held by a meaty hand.
He pushed open the black door and walked in. Several men at the bar looked around to see who came in. Obviously not caring who Aralian was, they turned their faces back to their drinks.
The bar’s interior was quite nice. The walls were whitewashed stone and tables and chairs stood all around. Many more people than Aralian had expected were seated in the room. A drone of laughing and talking set the mood of relaxation. The floor creaked underneath him as he made his way to the polished brass edge of the bar and sat. On the other side of the bar was a large array of liquor. The man who must have been the inn owner was at the far end of the bar handing out bottles to a couple of men. Nearer to him, was a blonde girl with brilliant blue eyes wearing a pink, white, and blue dress, looking seventeen or eighteen. Her hair fell in curls down to her shoulders and she had a slightly up-turned nose. She struck Aralian as one of those girls who were a little too pretty.
When she spotted Aralian sitting down, she half smiled and walked over to him. “What can I do for you sir?” she asked, leaning forward.
“Uh…” Aralian swallowed. “Blackstar whiskey please.” He hoisted off his pack, set in on the stool next to him and cracked his neck and fingers. He had only had blackstar whiskey once before, but he liked it; it wasn’t too burning.
As the girl got his drink he looked around for Gothorik. He was nowhere to be found. The girl set his blackstar whiskey down in front of him. He took a drink of it, thoroughly dehydrated. It burned his throat slightly but quenched his dry mouth; tasting like molasses.
“That’ll be one hark…” said the girl.
Aralian reached in his pack and pulled out one of the coins. He set in on the bar.
My name’s Gava,” said the girl, taking the hark and throwing it in a drawer along with many others and leaning towards him.
“Aralian.”
“Ooh! Another man came down here and rented a room for the night. Told me that if a man named Aralian showed up to tell him he’s out looking for a bow to buy.”
“Was his name Gothorik?” asked Aralian eagerly.
“Yes.” Gava surveyed Aralian’s face, still smiling cutely at him.
Feeling slightly stalked, he took another gulp of whiskey.
“Where’re you from?” asked Gava.
“Canthsville,” Aralian said, shortly.
“Ooh! Are you a knight, Aralian?” she asked.
“No, I’m a trainee.”
“Amazing!” exclaimed Gava, her excitement clearly un-dented by her discovery of his low rank. “You can fight?”
“Yeah,” said Aralian, beginning to like even her company after spending most of the day walking alone. “Well, I used to but -”
“Hmm… Let me guess…” Gava rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “You’re logging?”
“How’d you know?” asked Aralian.
Gava rested her chin on her hands and giggled. “Many young men come here to stay the night on their way to logging. A new craze I suppose.”
“Really? That many?”
“Yes! No joke at all!” Gava bit her lip. “That’s my father,” she said nodding towards the probable innkeeper. “He owns this place.”
“Hey girly!” shouted a fat and bald man at the bar. “How’s ‘bout y’ give me s’more blackstar whiskey?”
“Jerk!” said Gava as she rolled her eyes. Aralian watched her hurriedly take his mug and fill it with more whiskey. “Two harks Drubber!” she said holding out her petite right hand.
Two harks? thought Aralian.
After that, a few more people called Gava. One was a man dressed all in black with a hood over his head, a mask over his eyes, and a bandana over his nose and chin, sitting next to a woman dressed the same way. The man asked for their water skins to be filled with wine.
The door opened with a creak and Gothorik walked in. He had a large pack on his shoulders and a one-handed sword on his belt along with a dagger. On his back were a quiver of arrows and a bow. He looked slightly mad.
“Gothorik!” Aralian left his drink and crossed the floor to him.
“You came!” said Gothorik, now excited and happy. “I didn’t think-"
“I’m here! I couldn’t abandon my best friend!” Aralian walked with him over to the bar. “I’ll rent a room too, one minute…”
Gothorik sat at the bar and watched Aralian as he went over to the innkeeper.
“Hello,” said Aralian.
“Hi…” said the innkeeper distractedly as he wiped the counter with an old gray rag. He had a mean look about him, a sneer on his face and dark rings under his eyes.
“Um… I am going to rent a room for the night… how much will it cost?” he asked, already reaching for his money.
“Eight harks for the first night, five for all the others,” said the innkeeper.
“Here’s for one night,” said Aralian, handing him eight harks and going back to Gothorik.
“What are we going to do now?” asked Aralian.
“It’s four-thirty, but I’m tired. I woke up so early… I figure we can do thirty miles a day. If we do, we’ll be there by tomorrow night.” Gothorik pointed a thumb at the grandfather clock by the door.
“Yeah, but what are we going to do?” Aralian asked again.
“Here?” asked Gothorik, raising an eyebrow. “I s’pose we should look around the town.”
“We don’t have to stay here the night.”
“Better here than the roadside,” said Gothorik.
“Right,” said Aralian. “But this is the last town in southern Dex Balix?”
“Yeah, it is. Tomorrow, lets leave a little later so I can sleep longer.”
“Okay.”
Aralian and Gothorik walked around the small village a while. They bought a loaf of bread some cheese and some ham to eat, putting the leftovers in their packs for the journey the next day.

When the sky darkened, they returned to the inn. Gava was sitting at a table eating. She nodded to them when they entered.
“Seen the town?” she asked.
“Yeah… not much of a place,” said Gothorik.
“I know,” said Gava. “It’s boring. I want to leave it…”
“Why don’t you then?” asked Aralian sitting down with Gothorik at a table next to her. The inn was much less full of people now, only a few at the bar, and a couple at a table.
Gava glared. “Father wont let me leave. Not until I’ve married.”
Aralian and Gothorik looked at each other.
“Stupid, Isn’t it? But… I guess I could just go if I wanted to you know…” Gava pushed her blonde curls out of her eyes. “Can I come with you two? I just need someone to take me to Warvin… away from him,” Gava glanced over her shoulder.
“W- well… I don’t know I- I…” Aralian looked at Gothorik for support. Gothorik said nothing. “I guess it wouldn’t matter but… your father would hate us…”
“We won’t tell him!” said Gava. “Please get me out of here?”
“Alright,” said Gothorik. “Just don’t complain when we’re traveling, and have all your things ready by nine in the morning.”
“Oh good! That’s when father has lots of customers,” Gava said. “I’ll be ready.”
Not long after that they left for their separate rooms, which were up a rickety staircase.
Aralian’s bed was lumpy but felt great after the long day. The small room had a little window overlooking the Brimlour forest off the edge of a cliff, a beautiful view. He fell asleep almost right away dreaming he was in a castle, surrounded by Llewellyn, Hars, and Haili. They were telling him to jump out of the castle’s highest window… strange…













~VII~
A Thief’s Crusade
-------------------------

Aralian awoke to the sound of knocking on his door.
“Who is it?” he asked getting out of his lumpy bed.
“Gothorik, it’s time to leave!”
Aralian opened the door and said: “What time is it? Is she ready?”
“Nine, and she’s been ready for a long time now,” said Gothorik, already heading down the stairs.
Aralian followed him and bought some food to eat for breakfast. He ate quickly, wanting to get walking again.
When he was done he asked Gothorik: “Shall we go?”
“Yes, Gava’s waiting…”
Aralian looked over at the door to see Gava standing next to it, a pack by her side, and trying to look as though she merely wanted to stand there and had no intention of leaving the inn.
Gava’s father was tending to a man who had just walked in, getting him a drink. Gava had been right, for some reason the inn was very full; almost every seat was taken up.
Aralian walked over to where Gothorik and Gava were standing. “Hello,” said Gava.
“Hello. Ready?” asked Aralian.
“Yes,” said Gava.
Aralian was reaching for the door handle when the innkeeper barked at Gava, saying: “Come ‘ere Gava, I need your help! Right now!”
Aralian turned around with his hand still on the handle. Gava made a pouting face and looked at her father.
“Father! I’m old enough to do what I want. I want to go out!” Gava reached for the door handle and seemed not to notice she was holding Aralian’s hand instead.
“Gava you slattern!” The innkeeper came around the counter and headed towards Gava.
Gava opened the door and ran out into town, followed by Aralian and Gothorik. As they ran, Aralian heard the innkeeper yelling: “KIDNAPPERS! TWO YOUNG MEN!”
Aralian looked back at the inn and saw that the innkeeper and many other men were running after them.
Great! Now I’m a fugitive!
They ran through the city as fast as they could; many other people had joined the hue and cry.
As they left the village going south, Aralian could see them going north, probably thinking they were on their way to Canthsville.
He stopped along with the other two once they were out of sight of the village. “Good, they think we went north!” said Gava, laughing. “They’ll go all over looking for me!”
“That’s not funny. Let’s keep walking,” said Gothorik. “Or we’ll get there too late.”
They resumed walking. Already Aralian could see differences in the forest. It was more broken up into pieces. Here and there patches of grass and small fields were evident. He knew they were near the edge of the forest, and almost out… out of Dex Balix. He’d never been this far out of Canthsville in his life; not that he knew of anyway.
Nobody spoke for a while until Gothorik asked Gava: “Was your father really all that bad? I mean he still cared for you and all, right?”
Gava looked at him. “He was very wrong to do what he was going to do. He was going to have me marry a stupid old lump named Drubber!”
“That fat man at the bar?” asked Aralian. “Why?”
“Hmph…” Gava frowned. “To settle a business dispute! He’d just give me away like that! Like a few hundred harks!”
Aralian said nothing, but Gothorik sighed and said: “Well… I’m glad you’re free now… Glad we could help.”
“Yeah… me too,” said Gava.
Then Aralian thought of something he should ask her. “What’ll you do now? In Warvin?”
“I guess I’ll find work at an inn or something… I don’t count myself as betrothed. But I want to see more of the world…”
Aralian now understood why she had been so flirty with him. Did she really think he would marry her and take her away from that town in one day?
Well, she got half her wish…
They stopped as the sun reached a little past the middle of the sky and rested. Aralian sat on a stump, while Gava sat on a large stone and Gothorik on the grass. Aralian reached in his pack and took out the food. He handed some to Gava and Gothorik, and they ate.
A while later when the sun did not shine directly on the path but through the trees, they started off again. It was a windy day, and the dust from the road blew up into their faces. The trees whistled and creaked, and the larger and larger meadows’ grass was flattened.
“See that?” asked Gothorik, pointing ahead and disrupting the silence.
Aralian squinted ahead. He saw a small creek with a dark brown wooden bridge. As the trio drew nearer, they saw a sign at the edge of the bridge reading:

- You Are Now Leaving Dex Balix! ~ Be warned, the lands ahead are mostly wild and uninhabited! -

“Well…” said Aralian, “here’s the end of Dex Balix. I’ve never left it… just across that bridge and I’ll be out.”
“Me too!” said Gava.
“Not I,” Gothorik told Gava. “I’m from Warvin.”
Aralian looked into the little creek as he passed over, the dividing line between Dex Balix and the wilderness.
All these years I’ve been in Dex Balix and the wilderness was so close. It’s almost like a dream! I’m free from the Empire’s watch…
This thought carried him -along with the others- into the twilight, when Gothorik said: “We should be there very soon…”
“What’ll you do now?” Aralian asked Gava.
“I guess I’ll take the next path east and-"
But she was cut off by a sound in the bushes ahead; a rustling noise, to definite to be non-human.
“What was that?” Gava whispered.
“Uh,” Aralian tried to answer. Then a thought appeared in his mind as they all stopped in their tracks. Away from the Empire’s watch… Away… Empire’s watch… BANDITS?
Sure enough, five ragged men came jumping out of the bushes in front of them on the left side of the path, and Aralian turned around to see three jump out behind them.






He and Gava and Gothorik froze, all knowing what the men wanted. Gava sort of whimpered as the men drew nearer, and she grabbed Aralian’s arm.
As Aralian drew out his long knife and Gothorik his dagger, the bandits revealed their swords under their black cloaks.
Three of the men wore bandanas over their faces and one, a taller man, who wore fairly nice clothes, had an elegant black mask over his face.
The mask covered his forehead, cheekbones, and all around his eyes, leaving his badly-shaven mouth and chin visible. It had blue jay feathers above his eyes and little intricate designs all over. He wore a cape checkered black and gray that was all torn on the bottom, and black gloves
“Ah…” said the man wearing the mask. “Travelers? Three of them?” He had a cool, deep, voice that did not crackle of flaw, and strange, purple eyes.
“What do you want of us?” demanded Gothorik, huddling closer to Aralian and Gava.
“What do we want?” asked the masked man, followed by a vicious laughter by the rest of the bandits. “Whatever you are carrying with you, if you must know.”
Aralian faced the masked man who he thought to be the leader, and said: “No.”
“Ha, ha!” the leader sneered. “Men bind them!” He clapped his gloved hands and stood with arms crossed, surveying the scene.
Aralian tried to resist, but he didn’t want to injure the bandits for fear of them killing him for it. They took his pack and Gothorik’s and Gava’s.
“Wait!” shouted the leader, holding up a hand as the other men began to tie their hands. “A girl?”
The leader hadn’t noticed Gava’s femaleness until he had gotten closer because she had been practically hiding behind Aralian. He took her by the arm and pulled her closer allowing them to tie Aralian and Gothorik.
“You are a beauty, aren’t you?” the leader said, looking at her face as he tied her hands. “My, my, you’d think a pretty one like this would have the sense to stay away from these lands. But as they say: with beauty come stupidity…”
Aralian was desperate. He couldn’t think of what to do. Not only would they take all their stuff but they’d probably kill them too!
Then Gothorik said: “Well…”
“Well what?” asked the leader, looking at him.
Gothorik stared at the ground. “I work for the king… if I’m robbed and murdered… the king -Hars- will come searching for you all…”
“Really?” asked the leader unbelievingly, though the other men had just tensed. “Why should I believe you?”
“Suit yourself! He’s going to butcher you alive!” shouted Gothorik.
The leader frowned. “…You don’t have much on you… and I believe you… so… go! Just go!”
A man with a bandana hastily untied Gothorik and stepped away from him, pocketing the rope.
Aralian caught on. “I’m with him! Let me go too!” he demanded.
The leader stared at him and said: “Okay…”
Aralian was untied too.
Then Gothorik said: “And his wife!”
“Whose wife?” asked the leader. “Who?”
“Mine,” said Aralian, playing along. “Her!” He pointed at Gava.
The leader looked at Gava. “Is this man your husband?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Gava quickly. “He is.”
The leader shook his head. “This is a lie!” he said. “You’re don’t work for the king! I can tell when people lie…
“But… you can help me.” He scratched his head. “I see you have a strong spirit,” he said addressing Aralian. “What is your name?”
“Aralian…” he said.
“Aralian, you can help me… we don’t have to be enemies,” he said softly. I don’t have to rob you. If I’m correct, you are on your way to the lumber camp?”
“Yes.”
“Then you can help me and I will not take from you and your friends if you do.”
“What must I do?”
“Kill someone for me,” the leader said quickly, drawing nearer to Aralian. “He works in the camp. His name is Valiad. He looks much like you, tall, black hair…”
“Why do you want him dead?” asked Aralian, without taking the deal just yet, not that he had much of a choice.
The leader of the thieves stopped breathing for a moment. “Aralian, there is a war coming. Can you not feel it in your bones? Does it not chill the air, and tense all cities?” He stood motionless in the ever-darkening light. “I am not just a thief, no… I am the leader of a people who are in Vlair d’Mahz. We live there, isolated from the outside world, waiting for these kinds of times. War times. It is these times only when attention is drawn from us bandits, and in these times we continue our search for… something, but that is none of your business...”
“Vlair d’Mahz?” exclaimed Gothorik. “That’s got to be more than four hundred miles from here!”
“It’s of no matter… we must find what we’re searching for! Even if it takes us so far from home.”
“I still want to know why you want Valiad dead,” said Aralian, who had relaxed a bit.
“He owes me a large sum of money and he killed one of my men. So, after you kill him, take all the money he’s got and give it to me. I’ll be waiting outside the camp for it.” He reached in his pocket and took out one hark. “We must seal this promise the ancient way… take out one hark.”
Aralian reached into his bag and withdrew a single silver coin. He held it out and the leader took it.
“I will carve your name and my name in these coins. Then I will sew these coins on yours and my sleeves.” The leader took out a small knife and began scratching the coins with letters. While he did this, everyone else stood around, watching him, not speaking a word and barely breathing. When he finished carving their names in the coins, Aralian removed his shirt and handed it to him. It took the leader a while to sew the coins in their shirts, and while he was doing it Aralian asked, “What is your name?”
The leader did not answer for a moment, and then, without looking up he said, “Kavelir. Please, do not tell anyone my name. A man’s name is his life.”
“I won’t,” said Aralian.
“Here…” Kavelir handed Aralian his shirt and put on his own.
Aralian put it on and felt the small weight of a coin in the sleeve. “So this is how you make deals then?”
“Yes. It is how many people make deals… Now, if you do this killing for me, you -and your friends- will always be welcome at my dwelling in Vlair d’Mahz. And no others except you and them can know where I reside…” Kavelir said darkly.
The sun was completely gone by now and the moon had replaced it. Aralian’s eyes had adjusted to the light and he could still see a bit with the help of the moon’s light.
“You can go now. You know what must be done.”
Aralian and the two others began walking away, but as they did Kavelir said, “Ah… One more thing: I want this work done by the third rise of the white orb.”
Aralian nodded; though he wasn’t sure Kavelir saw him, and continued walking.
As soon as he was sure the bandits were far out of hearing distance, Aralian said, “That was so strange.”
“I know!” said Gothorik. “One minute they wanted to kill us and the other they were hiring you to murder someone.”
“I can’t believe it! I have to kill someone! That’s like… terrible,” said Aralian.
“Well, you don’t have to…” said Gothorik. “I mean, what’s the worst he can do? He’s not going to really keep an eye on you all the time is he?”
“Of course he is! Kavelir just doesn’t want to get his hands bloody!”
“I don’t blame him, killing is not easy unless you’re in some great battle where you have no idea who’s who,” Gothorik said.
“Can you do it for me?” asked Aralian.
“Me?” Gothorik asked pointing a thumb at his chest. “Are you insane? Besides, you’re the one with the ‘strong spirit.’”
























~VIII~
The Lumber Camp
--------------------------

Later that night the trio came upon the lumber camp. It must not have been very late because of all the flickering lights of fires and torches. A great number of tents were scattered all over a clearing to the left of the road. Aralian could se many silhouettes of people walking around.
“What do we do now?” Aralian asked Gothorik as they left the path.
Gothorik paused and said without looking at Aralian, “Well, I wasn’t expecting to get here so late. I’m supposed to find the owner of the camp and he can tell us what to do.” Gothorik was silent for a moment. “I don’t want to sneak up on them…”
“What! Are we going to sleep in the forest?” said Gava.
“I don’t know!” said Gothorik. “We might have to.”
“Well I’m the one who has to kill Valiad-" Aralian stopped in the middle of his sentence. His heart jumped as he connected the two ends of his mind. The name: Valiad. The place: lumber camp. The person: Aralian’s cousin. The same man Aralian had to deliver the letter from Gregory to. “Oh my word…” he whispered.
“What Aralian?” asked Gothorik.
“Valiad is my cousin…”
“Your cousin!” exclaimed Gothorik. “Didn’t you figure that out before? When Kavelir told you his name?”
“I didn’t think about it! I barely ever think about Valiad. He lived on the other side of the city from me. I’ve only met him a few times.”
“Now what are you going to do?” asked Gava.
“I have no idea,” said Aralian. “Maybe… I don’t know.” He rested his head on his hand.
“Well let’s sleep out here,” Gothorik said. “I’m tired, and we can just go into the camp in the morning.
“No!” said Gava. “I’m not sleeping on the ground like a beggar!”
“I told you that you could come with us if you didn’t whine, Gava!” Gothorik said. “Sometimes you don’t have a bed to sleep in! Ever thought about people who wander? People with no home? I don’t think they complain!”
Gava glared at Gothorik. “But I’ve never had to just sleep on the grass!” she said.
“Neither have I!” Gothorik shouted.
“Nor I,” said Aralian.
“Life is full of changes, Gava. Live with it or die!” said Gothorik.
“Okay! I’ll sleep on the stupid ground!” Gava said as she walked away from them.
“What a brat,” Gothorik whispered. “Spoiled brat who’s never going anywhere in life. She might as well have gotten married to that man in Totter Hill.”
“Whatever. It’s her fault. She probably thought she could charm one of us into being a little more than a friend,” said Aralian.
“Right,” said Gothorik. “Last thing I’d do was marry a brat like her. I’d only marry someone with a strong heart.”
“Me too. I wonder who it’ll be…”
“Wait for the right woman Aralian, there’s plenty of them out there!”
“Yeah, probably someone from across the continent!”
“That’d be something, someone from Azgarn… someone different,” Gothorik looked at the sky. “Hmm…”
“What?” asked Aralian.
“It looks like there are more stars than usual around the moon…”
“You’re right… It’s probably some strange illusion.”
“No. I have been noticing that for a long time…”
“Weird,” said Aralian as he lay down on the cool, long, grass.
Gothorik lay down too and they both fell asleep.

The next morning Aralian woke hungry. He sat up and looked around. Gothorik was snoring a little ways away from him. The sun was coming up.
There were also noises coming from the lumber camp, sounds of axes chopping wood. He saw Gava coming back from where she had slept. She looked mad.
“I barely slept at all!” said Gava angrily.
“I slept rather fine,” said Aralian walking over to Gothorik. He nudged him. “Get up Gothorik!”
“Hmph…” Gothorik grunted. “I am up…” he said getting to his feet slowly.
“Now can we go into the camp?” Aralian asked.
“Yeah, let’s find the main road in though.”
They found a trail going into the camp from the main road. It looked like it was traveled on a lot because of the two wheel ruts.
Aralian and Gothorik began to walk on the trail toward the camp, but Gava stayed behind.
“I didn’t come for this…” she said. “This is your destination, not mine.”
Aralian and Gothorik turned around. “Aren’t you hungry though? They must have food for you in here,” said Aralian.
“I am, but I really should just go. Warvin is just east of here. Less than a days’ journey.”
Then Aralian remembered the food in his pack from the day before. “Here,” he said, “take this for the walk.” He held out the food and she took it.
“Thanks,” she said putting it in the pack she had taken along with her.
“Water?” Aralian asked holding out his water skin.
“No, I won’t need it,” she shook her head. “I will be right next to the Warvin River.”
“Oh yes… I forgot that.” Aralian said.
“Well, I should get going now,” Gava said.
“Will we ever meet again?” Gothorik asked.
“I doubt it,” said Gava.
“Then good luck to you Gava, have a great life!”
“Goodbye Gava!” said Aralian.
Aralian watched Gava walk off, and then faced his own future with Gothorik. They began walking again. After only a minute or so, the came upon the camp. Now they could see it in perfect view. At least a hundred tents strewn throughout a large clearing on both sides of the trail. At the very end of the trail, Aralian could see water: the Warvin River. There were also lots of large trees there. People walked all over the place, axes and two-man saws in their hands. The air smelled like wood chips. There were the sounds of chopping, sawing, and talking everywhere.
“Wow, this place is so lively!” Gothorik said.
Aralian agreed. It was a very nice place indeed.
“Who owns it? Dex Balix or Warvin?” asked Aralian.
“Warvin. But they said they need all the help they can get.”
Just as they were talking, a man came walking up to them. He looked around his mid-forties, with graying hair and slightly ragged clothes.
“Hello!” he said cheerfully. “You new here? Y’ must be.”
“Yeah,” said Gothorik shaking the man’s hand.
“The name’s Tyrun. I own this here camp and I run it. We sure could use some help, you two lookin’ for a job?” Tyrun asked.
“Yeah,” said Aralian and Gothorik at once.
“Great!” said Tyrun. “What’re your names?”
“Aralian.”
“Gothorik.”
“Alright Aralian and Gothorik. As I said, there’s much to be done ‘round here. I’ll show you around and show you how we work here.” Tyrun motioned for them to follow.
He led them to a large, white tent. “Two other men sleep here too. Their names are Vialk and Thore.” He opened the tent flap and showed them inside.
Vialk and Thore were not inside, but there was evidence of them living there. There were two one-man cots on either side of the tent, and their packs beside them. The ground was covered in deerskins. It was surprisingly large on the inside.
“I’ll have someone bring your cots in later today,” said Tyrun. “The morning’s just started so you’ll have time to get used to life here.”
Aralian and Gothorik dropped their packs on the deerskin ground. Then Tyrun led them away from the tents and farther down to the distant but visible river. Once they were nearer, Aralian could see all the men at work. They were up on a large hill chopping tall trees. There were a lot of people, but the forest on that gigantic hill was enormous. Aralian wondered how in the world they were able to cut through one of those massive trees.
He had never seen a tree like that in the Brimlour forest either. It wasn’t an oak, definitely not! It was much too straight. The bark of the tree was reddish-gray.
“What kind of tree is that?” asked Aralian.
“A Warvin Pine,” said Tyrun.
“A spine?” asked Aralian.
“No,” said Tyrun. “A pine. Finest tree around too! This is the only place you’ll find them. That’s why the king of Ogsdinra wants to buy the wood so much. He’s barely got any trees at all down there so close to the desert…
“Anyway, this is where you’ll be working. Here you will cut the trees down and de-branch them. Then you will roll them down the hill and into the river. Every tree must be accounted for! Is that clear?”
“Yes,” said Aralian and Gothorik.
“Good. Because every tree is worth at least one thousand harks. When a tree is rolled into the water it is on its way to Ogsdinra.
“Then, the length and perimeter of the tree must be measured. That information is then written down on each work team’s tree total. You two wont have to do any writing, that’s done by your work team master.”
“Simple enough,” said Gothorik.
“It is,” said Tyrun. “Oh yes, two more things: First, you are working with three other men: Vialk, Thore, and your team master, Bhiyron.
“Second, your pay is ten harks per tree your team does, so work hard. Laziness is not tolerated by your team members.”
“Doesn’t the Warvin River flow to the sea?” asked Gothorik.
“No, not on this side of Warvin anyway. In the empire of Warvin there is a small lake that both two rivers come off of. They are both called the Warvin River,” said Tyrun.
“So this side flows south?” asked Aralian.
“Yes. South then west.”
“Interesting,” said Gothorik, who always liked to learn new things.
“There are five people on each team then?” asked Aralian.
“Correct,” said Tyrun.
“Well, can we start now?” asked Gothorik.
“Yes, now you can start. Uh… I think that’s Bhiyron’s team right there,” Tyrun said, pointing to three men at the top of the hill.
“Thanks,” said Aralian as he walked off.
“Yeah,” said Gothorik.
“Well, here we go,” Aralian said to Gothorik.
“Yep. I wonder how this’ll be.”
“Easy I bet,” said Aralian as they walked around the large tree stumps covering the side of the hill.
“I don’t know. This is day-long work here,” said Gothorik.
They came to the spot where Vialk, Thore and Bhiyron were busy chopping at one of the gigantic pines. They all had axes in their hands. From this high on the hill, they could just barely see the other side of the river because of the bend in it.
One of the men stopped chopping and looked at Aralian and Gothorik; that made the other two stop too.
“You two going to be on our work team?” asked the first man.
“Yes,” answered Gothorik.
“My name’s Bhiyron, I’m the work team master,” said Bhiyron. He looked a little older than Tyrun with a long gray beard on his chin. His arms were bulging with muscle, as if he had been cutting wood all his life. “That’s Vialk,” he pointed to a brown-haired, tall young man, “and that’s Thore,” a middle aged man who looked mad.
“Hi,” said Aralian and Gothorik.
“Hi,” said Vialk. Thore just nodded and continued frowning and staring at them as if they had interrupted the most important thing in his life.
“Don’t mind him,” Vialk whispered to Aralian and Gothorik. “He’s always grumpy. All he cares about is getting the tree cut…”
“You’re going to need an axe,” said Bhiyron. “There’s some by that tree there.” He pointed to a bunch of saws and axes by leaning on one of the pines not far away up the hill.
Aralian walked over to the tree with Gothorik and took one of the double-sided axes. Gothorik felt the blade of his; it was very sharp.
Aralian walked back to the tree where his team was cutting.
“Just start choppin’ away at the same level we are,” said Bhiyron as he cut.
Aralian raised the heavy axe and brought it down sideways onto the trunk of the tree.
Chunk!
He examined the cut in the tree. Unimpressive, he thought. It had only left a small slash in the gray trunk, exposing the pallid wood inside. He raised the axe again and hit, this time in a totally different spot.
Same result.
The tree was so large around, that the five men were totally out of each other’s way.
Aralian cut at the tree again, and again, and again. The fourth time, he managed to get a little chip out of the tree. The chip fell to the ground, a little piece of white in the black dirt. Gothorik was doing as bad as Aralian, only cutting a couple little pieces out of the massive tree.
But the other three men were cutting large chunks out at a time.
Vialk noticed how they were doing and said, “Look. Cut one way,” he swung his axe straight at the tree, “and then the other,” he swung again, this time diagonally. A large wedge shaped piece of wood flew off the tree.
Aralian tried what he showed them, first straight, then diagonally. It took a couple tries for Aralian to aim just right, but he got a large chunk out at the end.
“Thanks Vialk,” said Aralian.
“No problem.”
Aralian worked in silence for a while on his side of the tree, until Vialk asked, “So, where are you two from?”
“Dex Balix,” said Aralian.
“Really?” asked Vialk. “Wow… I always wanted to go to Dex Balix. How is it there?”
“Oh, it’s okay, I mean, I grew up there so it’s not that amazing. It’s really big though!”
“I’m from Warvin,” said Vialk.
“So am I,” said Gothorik.
“Then how are you two… together?” asked Vialk.
“Well, I lived in Dex Balix for a long time,” Gothorik explained.
“Ah. I see,” Vialk nodded as he swung at the tree.
 After that conversation, they talked about other things. They talked to Bhiyron too; he was also from Warvin.
Thore didn’t speak at all though, and by the time the tree started to creak, Aralian was beginning not to like him.
“It’s going to fall!” shouted Bhiyron. “It’s going to fall down hill!”
The tree wavered and began to lean towards the river. Aralian and the rest of the team ran uphill.
“TIMBER!” shouted Bhiyron as the tree fell.
Crack… a moment of silence, then, KA-BOOM!
The earth shook as the great, ancient tree fell to the ground. Aralian didn’t move. He just stood there, waiting, so did Gothorik.
Thore looked at them, and for the first time spoke, “What? Never seen a tree fall?” he sneered.
Aralian ignored him and followed Vialk over to the tree.
“Now we start cutting off the branches,” said Vialk.
“Wow these trees don’t even have leaves!” said Aralian. “They have spines! They should be called spine trees, not pine trees.”
“Just how they are!” said Bhiyron.
Aralian hefted his axe and chopped sideways on a large lower branch. It took a while for him to chop the whole branch off. “What do I do with it now?” Aralian asked Bhiyron.
“Drag it over to that big pile over there,” Bhiyron said, pointing to the bottom of the hill.
Aralian dragged the heavy branch all the way down the hill to a big pile of brush. He pulled it up the side of the pile and went back up the hill, watching as another team felled a tree.
Again he cut a branch off and dragged it down. Vialk, Thore and Bhiyron were much faster than him and Gothorik, but Aralian worked as hard as he could.
For a long time they worked, until the sun was high in the sky, and the tree was bare. They all sat on the tree to rest.
“Boy am I tired!” said Aralian wiping sweat off his brow and cracking his back.
“Me too,” said Gothorik. “I wonder where some water is? That river looks to muddy to drink from.”
“Over here!” said Vialk, beckoning with his hand.
Aralian and Gothorik went over to where he was and followed him around the side of the hill towards the river. As the three of them went around the edge of the hill, just a few feet from the rocky edge of the river, the hill turned into a sandstone and granite cliff, a sort of canyon dug out by the river.
Vialk led them on a narrow path between the cliffs and the river to a small clearing. In the center of the clearing there was a bubbling spring. Vialk kneeled down by it and drank.
“Ah…” he said. “This water is fresh!”
“Right out of the ground?” asked Aralian.
“Yep!”
Aralian bent over the spring and drank too. The water froze his teeth, but it tasted fresh.
“Whoa! That’s cold water!” said Aralian, and he breathed to warm up his teeth.
Gothorik also drank from the spring.
“Thanks for showing us this,” said Gothorik.
“Almost everyone here knows about this spring. It’s no mystery.” said Vialk. “Well, we have an hour and a half break. What do you want to do?”
Aralian walked over to the cliff side. “We can climb this cliff,” he suggested.
“That cliff?” asked Vialk, laughing. “Are you mad? That’s part of the end of The Fangs, that is!”
“What fangs?” asked Aralian, feeling the side of the cliff.
“Of Rooknard! The Fangs of Rooknard! These hills are bad luck!” he looked around warily.
Aralian rolled his eyes. “You don’t really believe those tales do you, Vialk?” he asked.
“Of course I do!” said Vialk. “In fact, at night you can sometimes hear the damned wolf himself! He howls at the moon with the rest of his pack, takes down deer, bear, and if he can, a human or two!”
“So then how does that make climbing this cliff dangerous?” asked Aralian.
Vialk thought for a moment and said, “Just does, ‘an Rooknard isn’t the only thing that makes these hills and forests and cliffs unlucky! Not in the least! Y’ see, I don’t know what goes on in these woods at night, or any time of the day for that matter, I’ve just heard much too much about the evil of The Fangs to like them!”
Aralian waited a moment and chose his words carefully. “Well, not me Vialk. I take it there’s more tall tales than true tales to be told.”
“I’m still not climbing,” said Vialk.
“Fine, but I am.” Aralian looked for a place in the cliff that wasn’t sandstone. He found some granite and began to climb. Looking back, he saw Gothorik was following.
Aralian searched for a handhold. There was one right above him; he grabbed it. After a few minutes of climbing, Aralian reached the top of the cliff. Up here he could see the other side of the river fairly well. There were even higher cliffs on that side.
Gothorik climbed up next to him on the top if the cliff. “Nice view from up here!” he said.
“Yeah, it is. I wonder how we can get to that side though?” Aralian said, pointing to the opposite side of the river.
“Ask Vialk, he probably knows.”
Aralian called to Vialk who was still sitting on a stump down by the spring.
“What?” asked Vialk, turning around.
“Is there a way to get to that side of the river?” asked Aralian.
“Yes. There’s a bridge, not a mile down that way,” he pointed east.
“Great!” exclaimed Aralian. “Will you climb with us there?”
“No,” said Vialk. “That’s part of The Fangs too. It goes all the way down to the Inferno Pits and to Hellgäré.”
Aralian whispered to Gothorik, “This is killing me! He’s so superstitious about this cliff range!”
“I know, it’s not done anything to us… yet!” said Gothorik.
Aralian laughed and turned around. There were more pines, and sandstone and granite spires jutted out of the top of the cliff.
“Wow…” said Aralian. “It’s so beautiful up here.”
“I know.”
“Wonder what would happen if we all of a sudden saw Rooknard?” said Aralian.
“He’d probably kill us or something,” said Gothorik.
Vialk called to them from down the cliff. “Hey! You two going to come eat?”
“Okay, coming!” answered Aralian.
They climbed down the cliff to where Vialk was waiting.
“About time you came down!” he joked.
“It’s harder coming down than going up,” said Gothorik.
“Well come on, there should be food at the camp about now.” Vialk began walking back to camp, Aralian and Gothorik at his heels.
“It’s a nice place up there on the cliff,” said Aralian to Vialk.
“I bet it is…” he said. “I bet that’s where Rooknard lives too. Right up there in a little cave, with his pack all around. He’s probably just waiting for some people to climb that hill so he can kill them.”
“Wow, so intense!” mocked Aralian.
“It’ll be intense when he rips your head off and eats your heart out!” said Vialk. “I’m trying to be smart and not die here, okay? I don’t want to end up like others who have been slain by Rooknard’s jaws.”
“Alright, maybe you’re right,” said Gothorik. “But that’s assuming he’s in this part of The Fangs. He could be all the way over above Dex Wolx right now.”
“True, but I’m not one to take chances like that.”
“I see we’ll never come to an agreement about this then, will we?” asked Aralian.
“Nope, not until you hear and see Rooknard,” said Vialk.
By now they were in camp. Aralian and Gothorik had no idea where to go, so they followed Vialk. He led them to a fire pit, where a roasted turkey was being taken off the spit. They ate some of the turkey along with many other people. It filled Aralian up and he then ate some bread they had given out. The meal was really not much, but after working so hard on the giant tree, anything seemed appetizing to Aralian.
After that, they all went back to work. Their team did three more trees. Aralian was getting used to the work a little, but blisters had developed on both his palms. Then, a loud horn blew; they were done working for the day.
“What do the people who haven’t finished their trees do?” Aralian asked Bhiyron.
“They keep working on it ‘till they get done.”
“I see,” said Aralian.
He followed the team over to where they sat and ate lunch around a large campfire. Just as he ate his last bit of bread and gravy, a thin young man with dark-brown hair stood up and began to speak.
“Everyone! Today, on the other side of the river I was climbing a cliff when…”
The man was drown out with shouts of, “In the Fangs?” and “Aren’t you afraid of those cliffs?”
“Listen! It is my bother whether or not I dislike those cliffs. Anyway, I was climbing around and I noticed a certain smell in the air, like the burning of wood. It wasn’t coming from this camp because I was upwind. So I searched for the source and came upon a small valley. From above the valley I saw people walking around and a few fires here and there. There were also a many dirty tents around. I didn’t call to them for fear of bandits, so I watched for a while. After a few minutes I began to realize that these were no humans. The way they walked and the grayish color of their skin was not normal.
I couldn’t see them well enough to tell what their faces looked like so I wanted to get a closer look. I walked down the rocky hill and hid behind some bushes. Sure enough, their faces were like crackling skin, their teeth were small and pointed, their eyes like glowing coals.”
Aralian was thoroughly disgusted, and so was everyone else. He could not tell if this man was lying or not though.
“What were they doing?” asked someone.
“Well, by the look of it, they were crafting saber-like weapons. After that I just left. I wanted no dealings with these creatures, whatever they were.”
“He lies!” said someone in the crowd. Many others agreed.
“We want no more of this rubbish!” said someone else.
Aralian was not so sure. The way this man said it seemed believable. Does this have anything to do with what Hars and Haili said about rumors of war?
Then Thore spoke. “Young fool! Trying to scare everyone eh? Quite a jest isn’t that?” Thore looked around at the other people. “Never has there once been sightings of such creatures, and there never will!”
The young man sat again, a disappointed look on his face. Aralian watched as another man, older, and strong, wearing a bandana over his mouth and nose, came over to the young man and asked him something. They talked for a few moments and then the older man left the fire for a tent not far of, leaving the young man with an encouraged look on his face.
After a couple minutes the young man got up and went into the same tent.
Aralian was curious. He also got up and followed the man to the tent. He waited until the man was in the tent and then went to the back so he could hear what they were saying.
The older man spoke. “I am glad that I heard you saying that. I believe you because I have seen them too.” Aralian watched the shadow of the older man cast by a lantern move across the tent. “Call me Ee-zhar.”
“That’s a strange name… not to be rude,” said the young man.
“It is not my fault…”
“Why do you wear that bandanna? Take it off.”
“No. I am your friend, not a bandit of some sort. You must trust me. There are many people who wish to kill me so I take this precaution.”
“Why do people want to kill you?”
“Because I know too much already.”
“What do you know too much about?”
“The attack the Rastakeis are planning on these lands,” said Ee-zhar.
“Are Rastakeis those creatures I saw in the valley?” asked the young man.
“Yes, they are. And they’re right good fighters too. Most of them have- wait here.”
Aralian saw the shadow go towards the front of the tent. Ee-zhar was coming around the side of the tent. Aralian backed away slowly, but Ee-zhar rushed up and put him in a headlock. The man put a knife to Aralian’s throat.
“What did you hear?” Ee-zhar whispered viciously through his bandanna. “ How long have you been here?”
“Only a minute or so, since you got in the tent,” said Aralian gasping for air. Ee-zhar was strong. “I- I barely heard anything. I was just interested in what you were saying. I heard about -gasp- some other sort of creature, Boneskerals they’re called!” Aralian’s whole body begged him for more air.
“And who told you about these creatures?”
“An Azgarnian named Haili!”
The man dropped Aralian, leaving him gasping for breath.
“You know too much, it is time you know it all. Come with me.”



















~IX~
Answers
-------------

Ee-zhar led Aralian around and into the tent. A single lantern lighted the interior; the young man stared at Aralian from the corner.
“What is your name?” asked Ee-zhar.
In the light Aralian got a better look at Ee-zhar. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves cut off, and gray pants. Ee-zhar was also very strong and tall. His dark hair hung loosely around his black-brown eyes.
He had two knifes in hilts on his hips. They were gray-white, with small veins of red, just like Haili’s bow, they were made of boneskeral! There was a small hook on the back of each one, and their handles were wrapped with brown leather.
“My name is Aralian,” he said.
“And you must have heard my name?” asked Ee-zhar.
“Yes… Ee-zhar.”
“Good. Tell me about yourself Aralian,” Ee-zhar said, resting his head on his hand.
Aralian told him first about his childhood, then of his army training, and last how he came here. He had told him most everything he could; now that he realized it, his life had been very uneventful.
“Interesting.” Ee-zhar said when Aralian stopped talking. “So you were a soldier but you never fought anything real?”
“Well I did fight my trainer with dulled weapons, and I beat a general in a dulled weapon duel.”
“Hmm… interesting. What’s you preferred weapon?”
“The poleaxe, five feet tall with spikes on both ends…” said Aralian. “When are you going to tell me about the Rastakeis and Boneskerals?”
“Now,” said Ee-zhar. “And you… what is your name?”
The young man in the corner said, “Jock.”
“Well Jock, and Aralian, this might help your confusion:
“A long time ago, before you or I or anyone that lives today, unless they are very, very old, there were explorers. These explorers came from Ogsdinra and they were exploring the land known today as Feiratox. They found that the land was mostly barren and wild. There was little dirt; most of the ground was covered in huge slabs of stone. Only shrubs, thorn bushes and tough trees could grow there.
“While they were exploring, they came upon a huge, dark fortress-"
“Hellgäré,” said Aralian.
“Yes, Hellgäré. At the time someone else owned it. Until a while ago, we did not know who it was. We were very sure it was the Scyohmites, the vicious wanderers of the Wilderness. Anyway, the explorers defeated the owners of Hellgäré and drove them out of the land. You’ve probably heard this story right?”
Aralian and Jock nodded.
“Alright then, let me skip ahead. What was truly there before, were the Rastakeis and Boneskerals.” Ee-zhar paused. “They were there before the humans, I’m sure… but who knows, right? It has been much too long since then.
“So, the enemies we now face come from the Inferno Pits. The Inferno Pits are big cave-cracks in the ground. Most of them are much too fiery for any living thing to get near them, but some other ones are just like caves that have just enough fire to light them up.”
“What is at the end of the caves?” asked Jock.
“I don’t know. Nor does anyone I know… It seems to me like there is a colony of these monsters underground, of Rastakeis at least, Boneskerals lack certain… mating abilities.”
“What do Boneskerals look like?” asked Aralian.
“Skeletons, except made out of this substance,” Ee-zhar said taking out one of his knifes.
“I know, an Azgarnian named Haili showed me the stuff,” said Aralian.
“Ah yes, Haili. You saw her in Dex Balix?” asked Ee-zhar.
“Yes, she wouldn’t tell me what she was doing there though. You know her?”
“Know her? She is a great friend of mine. She is part of the army we are gathering.”
“What army?”
“We call ourselves the Shadow Army, and for a good reason too. No one can know about it. We are working up forces to counter the Rastakeis’ army. If someone from the Rastakeis’ army finds us out, we will be crushed before we can become a threat.”
“You mean they have humans on their side?” asked Aralian.
“Yes, lots of humans have agreed obey the enemies’ ruler and fight for him.”
“Who is the enemies’ ruler?” Jock asked.
“A man by the name of Diamondus. At least we think he’s a man for that matter. No one on our side has seen him in person yet.”
Diamondus… the name struck something in Aralian’s heart. He shivered.
“Anyway, to sum it all up, Rastakeis and Boneskerals, led by someone named Diamondus, are trying to take over the lands, saying they owned it first. It doesn’t matter who owned it first at this point, that was so long ago that the descendants of the people who took this land over are innocent.” Ee-zhar finished by putting his hands on his hips.
“Makes sense,” said Jock. “But how large is their army?”
“Who knows? It must be gigantic though, considering all the time they’ve had to gather it.”
“How long?”
“At least three-hundred-and-fifty years.”
“That’s a problem…” said Aralian softly. With that much time they must have hundreds of thousands of soldiers.
“So,” said Ee-zhar, “You can help by joining the Shadow Army.”
“I’ll join. But what about my best friend?” asked Aralian
Ee-zhar thought for a moment. “Is he like a brother to you?”
“Yes,” said Aralian. “We’ve known each other since we were young.”
“Let me think. Come to me tomorrow as soon as you awake. Tomorrow is a day off. Then I will have the answer,” said Ee-zhar.
“I’m joining too,” said Jock. “I know how to use a sword fairly well.”
“Fantastic!” said Ee-zhar. “Two more people! It really is a race between sides to recruit as many people as possible, more than the others.”
Aralian was already warming up to Ee-zhar. This man really did care about others. All Aralian cared about now, was turning the tide of the coming war.
“So do we all have to wear bandannas now?” asked Jock.
“No,” Ee-zhar laughed, “only I do. Too many people know my face and know who I am.”
“So, your name’s not really Ee-zhar,” said Aralian.
Ee-zhar looked at him and nodded. “You’re right, and I don’t plan on telling you it. It is as much of a disguise as this bandanna.”
The mention of a bandanna reminded Aralian of the bandits and what he had to do for Kavelir. He had already thought of what he needed to do. He needed to tell Valiad to leave the lumber camp, to go to Ogsdinra or something.
“I just remembered there is something I need to do,” said Aralian.
“Alright,” said Ee-zhar, “There’s not much left to say anyway.
“See you tomorrow.”

Aralian went back to his tent; Thore, Gothorik and Vialk had not come in yet. He opened his pack and took out what he thought was the letter from Gregory to Valiad. He opened it to make sure. It was the dream he had written down. He reread it. Of course! How could I forget this! It must have something to do with Diamondus’ army!
He put the dream back and took the other paper out and put it in his pocket.
It didn’t take long for Aralian to locate Valiad’s tent. All he had to do was ask around until someone said that they knew where he lived.
He found Valiad outside his tent by a small fire talking with a few other men. “Valiad?” asked Aralian, barely remembering his face.
“Who- is that you? Aralian?” asked Valiad unbelievingly.
“Yes, it’s me,” said Aralian, walking closer
“Aralian! What are you doing here?” asked Valiad, jumping up and hugging Aralian.
Valiad had dark hair and was a few inches taller than Aralian. He had a great smile and a muscular build.
Aralian told him how he got to the lumber camp. Then he handed him the letter from his dad. Valiad read the letter and then refolded it and put it in his pocket with a smile on his face.
“So! How have you been, Aralian?”
“Fine, fine, except for one thing: the money you owe a certain someone,” Aralian said.
“How do you know about that? Do you know that scoundrel Kavelir? Are you friends with him, eh?” asked Valiad threateningly.
“No, no, not at all! He tried to capture and rob me on my way here. Instead, he told me he’d let me go if I killed you and gave him money you owe him, and he said that you killed one of his men.”
“That fiend!” Valiad said clenching his fists. “I’ll tell you what happened. He let me borrow some money for buying a horse; three hundred and fifty harks. Then a day later he said it would be ten more harks a week until I paid it all. A day later I was ready to pay him, but he was nowhere to be found. That was all part of his plan: wait for me for a long time so I could get more money, and then tell someone to kill me and he wouldn’t be lying. And I never killed anyone. I wonder why he won’t just ask me for the money. Probably he suspects I already know his stupid plan, and now he just wants to end it all by killing me.”
“I believe you, Valiad,” said Aralian. “So you need to leave this place so I can say I’ve killed you, or we’ll both end up dead.”
“Right,” said Valiad. He took it a lot easier than Aralian thought he would. “I suppose I should get ready then and sneak out.”
“I- I’m sorry. Where will you go?”
“Ogsdinra. I’ve always wanted to. They say it’s a beautiful place.”
“Well… I wish you all the luck. Have a good night,” said Aralian.
“Yes, you too.”
Aralian walked past all the tents again towards his. It was very dark there. He had always been afraid of the dark, especially when it surrounded him on all sides and he was alone. That was pretty much his only real fear, or phobia.
He went into the tent; the others were in their cots now. Getting in his, he though about the long day he had just had. A lot had happened.
The Shadow Army has to be stronger than what it is now, I’m sure. Unless all the people from hundreds of miles around already know of Diamondus’ army.
But Aralian knew nothing of the might and violence of Diamondus, how ancient his evil was, and just how wicked his black heart could be; or the death and destruction that would come to so many people.
Aralian did not know the doom this would bring to the empires around him who lived without any knowing of the terror yet to come, and as he slept the enemy plotted.


























~X~
Spying
----------

The next day the sun shone beautifully over he top of The Fangs. The birds sang in the forest, and an otter splashed playfully in the water. Foxes jumped through the underbrush, looking for food.
It was surprisingly warm for being that late in the year. It is the ninth day of the tenth month, Aralian reminded himself as he walked towards Ee-zhar’s tent. “And a right hot one too!”
As he walked, Gothorik, whom he had not seen all morning came running up behind him with Vialk.
“Aralian, me and Vialk were going to go fishing downstream where he says there are hundreds of trout. Are you coming or not?” asked Gothorik.
“Well,” Aralian didn’t know what to say. He had to go straight to Ee-zhar in the morning, but he couldn’t tell Gothorik about it, and fishing could take all afternoon. “I- I uh… I have to get something… I’ll meet you down there, and if I don’t, just don’t worry about me,” he said. Arg! That was a stupid excuse!
“Ok… get something. But we’re not going to wait. If you show up, then good, if you don’t then that’s ok too,” said Gothorik. “See you later!”
“Yeah… have a good time fishing.”
Gothorik and Vialk departed with their fishing poles over their shoulders. Aralian liked fishing a lot, and he wished he could have gone too, but he needed to see if Gothorik could join the Shadow Army.
He continued walking until he came to Ee-zhar’s tent. “Ee-zhar, are you in there? It’s Aralian,” he said as he came up to the tent.
“I am. Come in, Aralian.”
As Aralian went in, Ee-zhar put down a letter he was looking at and greeted him.
“Hello, Aralian.”
“Hi, Ee-zhar. Do you have your answer?”
“Yes, I guess your friend may join the Shadow Army. But let me meet him first. Do not tell him who I am or where you’re taking him. Bring him here whenever you like, but first, there is something I want to do. I want to take you, Jock, and a few others from the Shadow Army, and go to where the Rastakeis are camped of the other side of the river. Jock agreed yesterday to show me where they are. Will you come with us? I’d like you to meet the some of the others.”

“Yes, of course I’ll come. We are going to spy?” asked Aralian.
“Yes, we must know exactly where they are, and what they’re doing so far from Hellgäré.”
“Planning an attack I suppose,” said Aralian.
“Or spying on us, and getting ready for an attack. Or maybe they don’t know we’re here. You have to look at all sides of a problem,” Ee-zhar said.
“So why are you here,” Aralian asked. “Like, here in this camp. And haven’t you been found out?”
“Well it’s the best sort of place to hide out. I mean, who would expect us to be in a lumber camp of all places? I haven’t been found out by old Tyrun or the enemy.”
“Are all the people in the shadow army here in the camp?”
Ee-zhar laughed out loud. “Oh no, no, not at all! How would we ever be able to know what was happening around us?”
“Right,” said Aralian. “How big is this Shadow Army?”
“Oh it’s very large, a thousand something people, they’re all over the empires that surround the wilderness.”
“That’s great. When do we leave to spy?”
“Right after I get some food!” said Ee-zhar.

An hour later, after Ee-zhar had gone into his tent to eat where he could be with his bandanna off, Ee-zhar and Aralian were on their way to meet up with Jock and the rest of the army who said they would be on the bridge, waiting.
Sure enough, Jock, along with three others, was waiting on the upstream bridge, all of them with daggers on their belts and an extra dagger for Aralian. The three other people were men. One was at least six feet seven inches tall. His hair was totally shaved off his round head, and his large muscles bulged from a tough-looking, heavyset body. He wore a leather vest.
Another man looked young and a little shorter than Aralian. He had shaggy blond hair the color of hay. His eyes were blue-yellow, and he had what looked like a few new scars on his face.
The last man looked around thirty years of age. He struck Aralian as heroic, with a light look and a strong body. His hair was light brown and very straight.
“Hello!” said Aralian, cheerfully. “My name’s Aralian.”
The tall man walked up to Aralian and handed him a dagger. “I am Gorgavhm. I’m from the Gjokeatuun tribe. I am a ‘barbarian’ as you ‘n’ your people’d say. But the more I learn o’ yer people, the more I see my tribe is barbaric. At you and yer empire’s service, unless o’ course y’ come from Samarodia that is!” Gorgavhm said in a deep voice.
Then the young man with scars on his face came over and shook his hand. Aralian noticed as he shook the man’s left hand, that a silky white glove covered it. He didn’t bother to ask him why at that moment.
“My name’s Jeiuhb, nice to meet you, Aralian. I come from well, I come from Hellgäré.”
“Hellgäré?” asked Aralian.
“Yes, I was born there in the fortress, not that I agree with them at all. When they found where my loyalty rested, they tried to capture me. While I was running out, I hit face-first into a Rastakei who had a flail in his hand. I got hit straight across the face with that brutish weapon. Well at least I killed him! Chopped his head clean off… Hey! I know who you are! I saw you at Totter Hill after Haili rescued me. I was sitting at a table, disguised of course.”
“Haili rescued you? From what?”
“From Dex Balix. I know it might sound strange, but I went to Dex Balix to tell them of the Rastakeis and Boneskerals, and they locked me up.”
“That’s what Haili was doing there! She wouldn’t tell me because she didn’t know if I was working for the enemy or not!”
“You’re right.”
“Well it’s nice to meet you too Jeiuhb.”
Then the last man came up to Aralian. He also shook his hand and bowed. “I am Ré. I come from the empire of Erm. You know, one of the two empires that split.”
“No, I don’t think I know,” said Aralian.
“There used to be a huge empire called Díoterm. Two sides of it eventually split because of some kind of blood feud between lords. Personally I think it was very foolish of them. But nowadays, there are two empires called Díot and Erm.”
“Well I’m pleased to meet you Ré,” said Aralian.
Jock handed Aralian a dagger, “Just in case,” he said.
Aralian put the dagger on his belt and leaned against the railing of the bridge.
Ee-zhar went over to each of the three men and greeted them. “Jock, show us the way,” he said.
“Of course,” Jock said. He walked off the bridge and towards the cliffs on the south side of the Warvin River. The river had obviously cut through the cliff range thousands of years ago. “I was climbing up that ridge right there.” Jock scrambled nimbly up the granite ridge.
The ridge was something like fifty feet high and very wide. Aralian could see the sedimentary layers in the red-brown rock that the water had created. There were a few ferns and baby pines growing out of cracks in the stone. Slowly but surely, they reached the top of the ridge to find a large platform of rock. At the end of the platform there was a very tall spire of stone that obscured vision of whatever was behind. Taller pines grew up there, along with small thorn bushes and weeds.
The six men went to the other end of the clear space towards the spire.
“There’s a large valley not far on the other side of this,” said Jock, pointing at it.
Around the spire they went, not daring to talk in case of the enemy hearing them. Aralian looked around the pine forest that stood atop the cliff. It went all around the spire and as far as Aralian could see.
“Nice place ‘tis up top thus mount,” Gorgavhm observed out loud. “It’s a might diff’rent than my homeland.”
“I know,” said Jeiuhb. “Gjokeatuun is over flatland, marsh, and rivers.”
“Yes, I do miss that ol’ land o’ mine. ‘Tis a great place.”
By then they were past the spire and into thicker forest. To the west, there was a steep decline in the stone covered in pine needles that went down to level land forests. Trees covered all that side too.
But to the east, there was a jagged cliff side that went up to the top of the sandstone ridge about sixty feet up.
I’m glad Vialk isn’t here, thought Aralian; He’d be scared out of his mind in these woods.
After something like a half-hour of walking and only a few comments from any of the six men, the woods began to clear. There was a smell in the air like burning wood, just as Jock had explained the night before.
“Ah! There is where I smelled that burning wood!” Jock pointed to the top of the tall cliff. It had become a slowly declining hill of stone and dirt.
“Here is a valley beginning!” said Ré.
“Shhhh! Keep your voices down,” whispered Ee-zhar viciously. “The last thing we want now is a surprise attack from a foe we know nothing of.”
“Right,” said Jock. “Sorry.” Ré merely shrugged and looked the other way.
“How’s ‘bout we take a look at ‘em Rasta-whatcha-ma-call-ums,” said Gorgavhm.
“Rastakeis, that’s what they call themselves,” said Jeiuhb. “And Ee-zhar, if you want to know anything about those enemies, I’m sure I can offer plenty of help. I lived with those monsters long enough to know about their ways.”
“Where are they coming from?” asked Ee-zhar.
“I don’t know that answer. But once when I was young, I asked one of them that question, and he told me to get out of his sight before he took his damned whip out on me. But he didn’t speak this language, Kjordic, he spoke the language Rastakeis and Boneskerals speak. I know quite a bit of it myself.”
“I’d like to learn some of that language,” said Ee-zhar.
“Yes, I will teach you whenever you like.”
“Why were you born in Hellgäré of all places?” asked Aralian.
“Well I-" Jeiuhb started, but Ee-zhar cut him off.
“No time for small talk, lets get mo-" Ee-zhar stopped talking, he was staring behind them at something.
Aralian, along with the four others turned around too. There, straight in back of them, was a fully battle-dressed Rastakei with a sword in his hand.
His eyes were a fiery orange, and his skin looked all crackled. His mouth was turned down in a snarl so that his sharp, pointed teeth were visible behind thin lips. He was coming up behind them only twenty feet away.
Ee-zhar was the first to spring into action. “Surround him!” he shouted
Despite being utterly terrified of the creature, Aralian ran towards the monster just as he had run at the dummies only five days before, taking out his long dagger at the same time, but making sure he was still the farthest from it.
Jock seemed even more frightened of the Rastakei than Aralian, even though he had already seen them before.
Once the Rastakei was surrounded, Jeiuhb shouted something in his strange language that sounded somewhat like a question. “Vhantz aez tzohlm ardyln eju hgrour lanz?”
The Rastakei stared wide-eyed at Jeiuhb for a moment, still with his sword at the ready. Then, his angry frown returned, and in a hoarse and evil voice, he replied, “Tzohlm aez Jeiuhb! Hrakksor ah ult hzatz!”
Jeiuhb looked at Ee-zhar who was staring at the Rastakei with utmost dislike. “Shall I dispose of him?” he asked.
“Wait. What did he say?”
Jeiuhb looked back at the Rastakei. “I asked him what he was doing here in our land, and he said that I am Jeiuhb. Traitor of his people.”
Ee-zhar shook his head. “We’ll never learn anything from him, he doesn’t want to speak. Kill him.”
Jeiuhb thrust his dagger forward, stabbing the unsuspecting Rastakei in the neck. The Rastakei fell over and didn’t move. Aralian couldn’t help but feel a little tight-throated as the creature’s sword fell limply out of his hand. This was much, much too different than straw-and-rag dummies to be easy.
“Hide the body in that overhang in the cliff side,” said Ee-zhar. “Lets hope they don’t notice he’s missing for a long while…”
“Do you think it was unwise to kill him?” asked Ré as Jeiuhb took the body to the cliff side.
“What could we have done?” asked Ee-zhar. “It would have been better if he hadn’t seen us at all.”
“An’ smarter o’ ‘im not ta have tried to sneak up on us,” said Gorgavhm.
“Yes, he should’ve gone back to his camp and told of us to their army,” said Ré. “At least we were able to kill him.”
“Wish I had my sword with me,” said Jeiuhb, returning from the overhang.
“I already told you, we weren’t expecting to have to fight,” said Ee-zhar. “Let’s get go find out the exact location of these monsters and what they’re doing so we can get out of here.”
“Come on then,” said Jock. He began to walk around the cliff, and down towards the valley without waiting for anyone.
Aralian followed along with the others. He was still a little shaken by the sight of the Rastakei. Ré seemed to notice this.
“It’s not that bad, all this fighting and death,” said Ré, patting Aralian on the back. “You’ll see. We’re on the side of good, that’s all that matters.”
“Thanks,” said Aralian as they came to the end of the cliff that stuck out into the valley.
“I know things might seem confusing at times, but in the end, we’ll figure it all out, win or lose!”
“I hope it’s a win,” said Aralian. “I feel like I know nothing about what’s going on, and everyone else in the Shadow Army does…”
“Trust me, most of us are playing the game without knowing the rules too. It’s just a matter of figuring out how to play, what to do, where to be and when to be there.” Ré jumped over a large chunk of sandstone that had fallen from somewhere on the cliff.
“How did you come to be in this army?” Aralian asked.
“Ee-zhar found me training with my polespire in the Starix Fields about two years ago. I had no goal in my life. I had been kicked out of my home years before that because my father said I was too old to live there. I was a wanderer, I had no home. But most of that time between getting kicked out of my house and being found by Ee-zhar was spent training with my polespire. I am very good with it, not to boast.”
“Amazing,” said Aralian. “I am fairly good with the poleaxe. I beat a general in a duel a couple days ago.”
“Really? Impressive! I look forward to seeing you fight.”
“As do I. I’ve never fought to kill. Jeiuhb just killed the Rastakei like that, caught him off guard and stabbed him. How did he do that?”
“It comes with the knowledge of battle. Some people are more gifted in that area than others. Who knows? You may surpass us all in skill.”
“I don’t think so. But a trainer did tell me I was better than all his other students. He trained with me one-on-one even after all the other trainees left.”
“That’s something to be proud of,” Ré said.
“Quiet back there,” whispered Ee-zhar who was ahead with Jock.
Aralian looked past the two that were ahead and saw smoke rising above the treetops. They were near the Rastakei’s camp. He could hear a high-pitched clanking sound.
“Over this way. Here is where I was spying on them yesterday,” said Jock.
“Let me see,” Ee-zhar said as he walked between two pines. On the other side of the two pines were a few bushes, just tall enough to stand behind.
“Oh my…” Aralian heard Ee-zhar whisper. “This is much worse than I thought. There must be a thousand something of them. Here Gorgavhm, take a look at this mess…”
Gorgavhm took Ee-zhar’s place behind the bushes and peeked over the edge. As he looked over, he merely said, “Rrrrr…”
Then he left the small spot and stood back for someone else to look.
Ré was closer, but he motioned to allow Aralian to see.
Aralian walked over to the bushes. The ground was yellow, wet sand, with chunks of sandstone in it. It was cool there, in the shade of the pines. He looked over the edge of the bushes and the first things he saw were tents about fifty yards away. The tents were gray and old looking. They were spread out though the entire valley, far and wide, to the east and west.
Then he saw Rastakeis all around. They were lined up next to anvils. Taking long pieces of steel and banging on them to turn them into strange-shaped one edged swords. They were also crafting helmets, chain mail, hauberks and large, round shields. Spears, and leather gauntlets, shoulder and elbow guards that had spikes on them.
Aralian pulled his eyes away from the sight so the others could have a look.
Ré then Jeiuhb went after him, and last Jock. All of them shook their heads and mumbled something under their breath.
“Should we head back?” asked Ee-zhar. “Seen enough?”
“I have…” said Gorgavhm. “Thus is sickening. They’re going ta drive us into the sea at this rate. Straight inta the sea.”
“Alright then. Come on.”
The six turned their backs to the Rastakeis and began walking back to the lumber camp.
“Are we going to call a meeting now, Ee-zhar?” asked Ré.
“Of course, Ré. The others must know of this. Who knows how many other camps there are on the outskirts of the wilderness like this one.”
“Good, I look forward to seeing the people of the Shadow Army again,” said Jeiuhb. “There’s much I want to tell them.”
Gorgavhm nodded, “As do I.”

















~XI~
The Meeting
----------------

The six got back to the lumber camp with barely a word from anyone. When they got there, it was later in the day. Aralian searched for Gothorik so he could bring him to Ee-zhar.
“There you are, Gothorik,” said Aralian when he went downstream where Gothorik said he would be.
Gothorik was fishing with Vialk; they had a few large trout on hooks in a nearby tree.
“Did you come to fish?” asked Gothorik.
“No, come with me, I need to show you something,” said Aralian.
“What is it?” Gothorik asked, getting up off the sandstone ledge that was sticking out over the water.
“You’ll have to wait and see… I can’t tell you yet,” said Aralian, examining a fish on the hook.
“Alright then, how long will it take?”
“Oh, not a hour I suppose, if you don’t mind.”
“Ok, we were thinking of stopping for a while anyway. I mean, look at how much fish we pulled in!”
Vialk got up too. “Hello Aralian, it took you a long time to, ‘get something,” he said. “Ha, ha! No I’m kidding.”
“Come on Gothorik,” urged Aralian.
“Ok, give me a minute.” Gothorik untied the ropes that were holding the fish on the tree and Vialk grabbed the fishing poles.
The three of them walked back together. When they got there, Vialk lit a fire in the central pit and began to cook the fish, but Aralian led Gothorik away from him towards Ee-zhar’s tent.
“So where are we going?” asked Gothorik.
“I told you already,” replied Aralian, “I can’t tell you.”
Aralian stopped when they reached the tent. “Here we are,” he said.
“Whose tent is this?” asked Gothorik.
“You’ll see.”
Aralian asked for permission to come in and was granted it by Ee-zhar’s voice.
He walked in to find Ee-zhar standing ready at the back of the tent. He bowed to Gothorik as he came in. “Greetings.”
Gothorik tilted his head. “What is this?” he asked.
“Gothorik,” said Aralian, “This, is Ee-zhar.
“Who?” asked Gothorik.
“Ee-zhar, and he’s going to tell you everything you need to know about what’s going on. Right Ee-zhar?”
Ee-zhar nodded and motioned for Gothorik to enter. “Come in, what is your name?”
“Gothorik Lexarg,” said Gothorik, going in.
“There are terrible things going on right under your nose and you can’t see them,” said Ee-zhar. Gothorik just stood patiently and silently as the goal and battle plan of Diamondus was explained to him.  The way the Rastakeis and Boneskerals looked and where they were.
Gothorik believed it all, right down to the last fact. When Ee-zhar had finished explaining it to him, Ee-zhar asked, “So, will you help us fight?”
“Of course! I can fight with a sword and shield, though I don’t own them anymore and I may be a little rusty…” Gothorik said enthusiastically.
“That’s alright. We can supply you with those,” said Ee-zhar. “Not a problem at all.”
“Well, what do I do now?”
“Not anything just yet. I will need to get to know you better. Then you’ll be able to recruit people for the army, spy on the enemy, and kill enemy scouts. And when the time comes, I’ll need you to fight in battles. The same goes to you Aralian.”
“I have a question,” said Aralian. “Are you the leader of the Shadow Army?”
“I am not.”
“Then who is?”
“No one,” Ee-zhar said simply.
“No one? It has no leader at all?”
“There are many leaders throughout the empires around Hellgäré.”
“Then I guess the question I’m looking for is, who started the Shadow Army?” said Aralian.
“A man named Grithix.”
“Where is Grithix?”
“Dead.”
“Oh,” said Aralian. “How?”
“He was killed, that’s all,” Ee-zhar said simply.
“I see.”
Aralian saw that there was nothing left to say, so he said goodbye to Ee-zhar and began to leave the tent.
“Wait Aralian!” said Ee-zhar.
“Yes?” asked Aralian, turning around.
“In two days we’re going to have a meeting of the Shadow Army. But I need to send Ré and Jeiuhb out on horseback to tell the others first. It will be as soon as the sun reaches the horizon. Meet me here and I’ll tell you where it will be. Not everyone who is in the Shadow Army will be able to come, only the people a day’s journey from here, but they will pass the information on. ”
“I’ll remember that,” said Aralian.

The next day was spent only doing logging. Aralian didn’t see anyone from the Shadow Army for the entire day, besides Gothorik. In the afternoon he went to climb one of the pines. As he was climbing, he noticed that his hands had something sticky all over them. It was like maple syrup, but it was a light, see-through, orange.
He tried to wipe it in off in the grass, but that didn’t work. Then he tried water from the river. That didn’t work either.
So he went to Vialk for help. Vialk told him to rub his hands in dirt, and then wash his hands in the river. If it didn’t take it all off the first time, he had to do it again, and again.
He did it three times before it came off. Vialk told him the stuff was the sap of the tree, but Aralian had never seen sap acting like that before. So, he decided not to climb anymore pine trees that had sap all over them.

The day after that little incident, Aralian and his logging team did their regular work. He had become a bit stronger since he had started three days ago. It wasn’t as hard for him to aim at the tree, and the axe didn’t seem as heavy.
Later, he and Gothorik talked about the Rastakeis, and Aralian told him what they looked like. He also told him about the Boneskerals.
Aralian couldn’t wait to meet all the rest of the people in the Shadow Army. Jeiuhb, Gorgavhm, and Ré had been really nice, and he was sure that all the rest would be too. The only thing that he feared at the moment was fighting when he wasn’t very well trained. So later in the day, after logging was over, he took out his poleaxe and screwed the three pieces together.
He practiced just as Awet had shown him. Swing up, down. Block one way, then the other. He felt more into it now that he had a reason to learn. Now he had a goal in life, a reason to fight. He imagined crushing Boneskerals to pieces as he hit branches that he had set up for himself.
He did this for a long time, until he looked at the sun. It was at the horizon now, though the horizon was very high this close to The Fangs.
He went to his tent where he put his poleaxe under his cot and saw Gothorik reading one of his books.
“Which one are you reading, Gothorik?” asked Aralian.
“The history one. Did you know why Feiratox is called Feiratox?” asked Gothorik.
“No, why?”
“Well here, listen. There’s this really sad story in here about why its called Feiratox, written by someone named Fallhavm. I didn’t know this.” Gothorik turned back a few pages in the book and read the story,

“How lucky am I to meet one like you, one in infinity you are. You make me smile whenever I look at you, Feiratox. I can only think of you. All other romantic fantasies of my youth are forgotten, you banish them with your truth. If ever we can be together again, I hope it will be soon. I have to leave; your people there do not like me. Someday I hope you will come to find me. It was the greatest thing when you and I could talk and stroll freely through the town. Then they found out that you and I were more than just friends. We loved each other as we do now. It was vile thing when I found out about the customs of your lands. Please come to me. You know where I stay.

“I am unfeeling; I do not notice my surroundings, when I am without you. It pains my heart that we cannot be together. Yet, the ancient traditions are still remembered.
“Must we listen to them? Must we stand alone, without love only because our heritage differs? Do they understand us? No. They do not know what it means to love, to care for one’s life more than your own.
“Feiratox, forget what they say and listen to me. If you care for me as I do you, then heed my warning: It is easy to end your love for me now. I can survive with another. But, if you do not want our friends and family to hate us and reject us for eternity, I pray you, forget I exist.

“I thank the heavens that you have come! My heart can now heal, and again I can see you every day. Please, do not forget that they now plan to take our lives. Know this though Feiratox: I would die rather than see you hurt. Come with me and let us live away from spiteful civilization.
“If you ask me, ‘why do we not marry?’ I will ask you this, my love: ‘What is marriage, but an idea?’ I say, ‘love is a strength, not a weakness.’ Consider well, I ask you, beg you not to be with me when they come.
“They are on the lookout for us now. If they find us we surely will die, be hung, or even worse.
“Feiratox, I am confused. My mind cannot think straight.

“Feiratox my only love! You are gone! Forever! The pain inside is too great to survive. I cannot sleep. My head threatens to fail, and I will die from the sadness before another sickness or wound takes me.
“Where are you? Perchance another goblet full the brim of strong liquor will quench the pain of the drought within. Would a mouthful of sand take away the ache of famine inside me? Another drink to death! Take from me this wickedness and deliver me from the wretchedness of tradition. All I have to remember you by is this small locket you gave me. Around my neck, it is a shadow of what I lost. What a loss! How could they take you from me and kill you there? In the wilderness, in the unfertile ground.
“Where is she? The one of our blood? They did not take her life also, I know that for sure. She has committed no crime against them.
“What were you Feiratox? A Valkyrie? Is that where your beauty came from? Your hair russet as the autumn foliage that litters the ground? Skin as the tanned light of the eclipsed moon? Eyes dark, gems in the night, and diamond in day? Every word thought out over a million centuries, never spoken out of time of the rhythm of the universe. What were you my queen? Queen of all beauty and strength a woman can keep within her heart.
“Now what must I do to be with you again? What is life for now? Should I keep on living like this? Oh, how I regret that night! Together we were, and they found us! We ran but you fell and I could not save you from them. My sword is only bloodied with the life one man. I shouldn’t have run. But what could I have done? Could I have saved you in the dark like that?
“Now here I lay, colder than ice without your brilliant fire to melt my heart again. When you were here, I ruled the world, and now I have sunk to the point of death. Is there a moment I do not think of you? Can it be that you are truly gone? The shadow of your life haunts me. What could have been is now nothing, a love that I can never forget.
“Will I ever see you again? In the world of nothing, where none have been and come back? Is that where I will see you?
“Or when a life passes, does that glowing spirit become oblivion? Never to think again, a waste of a life brought to its end. Beauty corrupted by decay in the ground, all of your being ended in a single fatal wound? Nothing left but a memory and corpse, both that become dust over time.
“Here I am now. What do I live for? Nothing. I have not lost half of myself with your death; I have lost my whole person. I am with you forever. Never to be again until someday… or never if death I the final breath. Never to sleep. Never to live again with you! And never to kiss you my true love!
“So now, should I take the chance and end this living? But what living? I now have no friend to be by my side. I am hated by all, though I did nothing to deserve this.

“It is my fault you had to die. You could have lived with another and he would have been able to love you, maybe not as much as me but you would have been loved nonetheless. So here now I go, to find you Feiratox.

“I now walk through the wilderness. Overcome with grief. Here is the cliff where I will die on. They clouded sky brings a mist of rain, and the gray stone mocks me. I write here on this paper to you, now I jump and write this as I fall: True love is true when it makes you insane…”

“Wow, that’s long, and sad, and I can’t believe you told me all that right now… but we need to go. Look out side, the sun is almost below the horizon,” said Aralian.
Gothorik looked at the book. “This story really strikes the heart you know…”
“It does,” said Aralian. “But come on, Ee-zhar is waiting for us.”
“You have to start reading these books Aralian,” said Gothorik, as he got up off the cot and set the book down.
“I did start them both, but I haven’t had much time.”
Aralian and Gothorik got out of their tent and headed for Ee-zhar’s.
Ee-zhar was in front of his tent, waiting for them with a lantern in his hand.
“Follow me,” said Ee-zhar.
Aralian and Gothorik followed him quietly. Other people watched them walk by as they made their way towards the logging hill.
“Is everyone else already there?” asked Gothorik.
“Probably not,” Ee-zhar said. “There are going to be many of them.”
They stopped walking at the top of the hill within a clearing near some massive sandstone boulders. Torches had been planted in the ground on long poles so that the whole place was illuminated by their light. There were many people there, sitting on large rocks or leaning on pines.
Aralian saw Jeiuhb, Gorgavhm, and Ré there. As he walked into the clearing, Haili came in from the other side. She looked the same as she had before, with her bow and arrows on her back and a similar green dress.
“Aralian?” she said, walking up to him. “I didn’t know you were part of this army.”
“He’s a new recruit,” said Ee-zhar.
“Very good,” said Haili. “I hope you enjoy your life in the Shadow Army. It can be very eventful.”
“I understand. I’m ready for whatever lies ahead,” said Aralian.
“Good, you’ll need that kind of confidence for this.”
“Haili, you remember Gothorik? You saw him at the feast right?” said Aralian.
“Yes. I see he’s also in the army. It’s great to see you again. I look forward to training with you.” With that, Haili found a place to sit amongst the boulders.
Aralian and Gothorik sat opposite her, on the other side of the clearing. Every minute, more people came into the clearing until there were at least fifty people there.
“Well,” said Ee-zhar, standing in the middle of the clearing. “This looks about right. No one missing? I don’t think so. Alright, let us get started then.”
Aralian listened, slightly bored, as Ee-zhar retold all that had happened two days before. He recalled it in a very detailed way, dissecting each part and flipping it over and telling it from his’, and then a narrator’s point of view.
After he had told the story, he sat down and another man stood up. He had dark skin just like Zadein and had a scimitar strapped to his belt. He looked cold, wearing a long-sleeved shirt, suggesting that he was from a warmer place, such as the desert.
“Now I will tell you what is going on where I was spying in Samarodia.
“The tzan’kyet is taxing the people heavily. He rules the place with an iron fist. People known to have said things against him have been found dead in their homes. He lives in a grand palace with his second wife, enjoying a life of luxury, while his people suffer under his harsh laws. There is still no word from the tzan’shuo, obviously he was tricked and killed as soon as he reached Hellgäré.
“We still do not know the name of the tzan’kyet, but we are sure that he is not the tzan’kyet that the tzan’shuo chose.”
The man sat down again, and Jeiuhb stood up.
“Greetings from Hellgäré, and the Dex Balix dungeon!” he said. “Not long ago, I lived in Hellgäré like alongside the Rastakeis as if they were my brothers and sisters. I did not understand their plan, and I did not understand what they were doing there, in other words, I was ignorant.
“I had no idea what life was like outside Hellgäré, for I had lived there all my life. I grew up knowing two languages, Kjordic and the language the Rastakeis speak. A little more than two years ago, I was rummaging though old things of mine, when I found this,” Jeiuhb held up a piece of paper. “It is a letter from my mother to me. See, I never knew my mother or father, and the Rastakeis knew nothing of them either, or maybe they just didn’t want to tell me. But anyway, I found this letter from my mother that she had written to me long ago, it is very informative, would you like to hear it? It isn’t long at all, and it’s the thing that convinced me to leave Hellgäré.”
Some of the people who sat around the clearing nodded, and some said ‘yes’, so Jeiuhb began reading:

“My dear, sweet Jeiuhb, it has been only a year since you were born here in this fortress home of Hellgäré, and already the Rastakeis tell me I must leave.
“I know they are evil creatures and they seek to take over all of the Empires, so before I leave, I must warn you, the Rastakeis are not your friends!
“I also have to tell you who I am, and why your hand is like it is. I am not from that world, but I come from a different world called Muspellheim, a land of fire. Your father is from this land, Midgard, and so you are a mixture of the two of us, part Midgardian, and part Muspellheimian.
“You can control the power for fire that radiates in your left hand. Use this gift of Muspellheim for only good, not evil. I beg you my only son, do not side with them. They seek to turn you into a great fighter of theirs’, a champion for the dark lord Diamondus’ army.
“I love you Jeiuhb, and so does your father. With all the care a mother can give, I hope you find this letter.
“Love, Miriam.”

Jeiuhb looked sad. He put the letter away in his pocket and said, “So, there are other worlds out there? Besides our Midgard?” he asked.
One man stood up and nodded. “Yes, there are other worlds. We rarely speak of them though, for we know little of them. My name is Demaluxvian; I come from a far away land known as, Elkerv. I know only a little about the other worlds, do you know anything about them, Ee-zhar?”
Ee-zhar stood up, and Jeiuhb and Demaluxvian sat.
“I know a few things about them,” he said. “First, there are two other worlds that I know of, Muspellheim, and Jormelheim.
“Muspellheim, as Jeiuhb’s mother wrote, is a land of fire, mostly like Hellgäré, with desolate deserts and pits of fire. The heat there is extreme, and most of us would pass out only being there for a half-hour.
“Jormelheim, on the other hand, is a frozen land of ice and snow. In some places, you would freeze in less than a second, other places you could survive if you wore the right clothing.
“I have never been to either of the two worlds, and that is all I know of them.”
Then a man took the words right out of Aralian’s mouth as he asked, “How do you get to those worlds? Yggdrasil?”
“Yes, you are correct. Yggdrasil allows you to travel through its energy surges, down through its roots and into the other worlds,” said Ee-zhar.
Now Aralian was confused, he also noticed the expressions of confusion on Gothorik and Jock’s faces, so he asked, “Wait, what is Yggdrasil?”
Ee-zhar turned around and looked at him with disbelief along with many other people. “You don’t know what Yggdrasil is? No one ever told you?”
“No,” said Aralian.
Gothorik and Jock also said they had no idea what it was either, so Ee-zhar explained it to them.
“Actually I am not surprised that no one ever told you about Yggdrasil, important as it is,” said Ee-zhar. “Many people forgot or didn’t bother to tell anyone about it.
“Yggdrasil is a tree. Not just any tree, for it is also known as the World Tree. The Midgard is flat, and so are Muspellheim and Jormelheim. Yggdrasil’s trunk runs through the center of Midgard, then under Midgard it splits into two roots which go down to Muspellheim and Jormelheim.
“Makes you feel strange doesn’t it? Knowing you are on flat piece of earth suspended in space by a gigantic tree?”
“Yes,” said Aralian. “Strange, no one ever told me about it…”
“Well some people would rather remain ignorant than learn about things like that, not you though,” said Ee-zhar. “Also, Yggdrasil once was a seed out in space, it created us and all the worlds on it when it decided to grow.”
“So it had a mind of its own?” asked Gothorik.
“Yes, it does. It controls the seasons; it created the three races, Azgarnian, Human, and Dwarf. But, like everyone I know, that is all I know of the other worlds and Yggdrasil.”
After that, many other people stood up; all of them had something to say. Some of them had information as to where more Rastakei camps were, others told about the spying they had done in Hellgäré and Samarodia. Aralian found all the conversation to be very interesting, taking in all that was said.
Then Aralian looked across from him and saw Thore, sitting on a rock. He was surprised to see him there; Ee-zhar had not told him that he was in the Shadow Army.
Hours went by and the conversation went deep into the night. Aralian began getting drowsy, and just when he didn’t think he could keep his eyes open any longer, Ee-zhar said, “Alright, everything we needed to say has been said, right?”
No one said anything so Ee-zhar said, “Good, this meeting is over.”












~XII~
Falling Prey to the Enemy
---------------------------------

Aralian had a chance to meet the dark skinned man, Darhoth, who was thirty-four, and Demaluxvian, who was tall and had brown hair and was twenty-five.
After meeting them and a few others, he went back to his tent with Gothorik and Thore, and fell asleep.

The next day, he did the logging with his team, cutting and de-branching the tall pines.
After that, he remembered the dream he had had eight nights before. He and Gothorik went back to their tent and Aralian looked in his bag for the dream.
He found it and showed it to Gothorik.
“See, here it is,” said Aralian. “This has something to do with the oncoming war. I know it!”
Gothorik read the short dream through and said, “Whoa, scary. I hope this isn’t real.”
“I’ll bet it is though,” said Aralian.
“Do you think you should show this to Ee-zhar?” asked Gothorik. “He might have something to say about it.
“You’re right,” Aralian said, grabbing the dream back. “Come on, let’s show him.”
On their way to Ee-zhar’s tent, Gothorik said, “I wonder if Ee-zhar will get annoyed with all our coming and going?”
“I’m sure he wont mind seeing this,” said Aralian.
“Right.”
They got to Ee-zhar’s tent, and Ee-zhar let them in after Aralian told him he had something to show him.
“What is it?” asked Ee-zhar, once they were inside.
“Well,” said Aralian, “I had this dream eight days ago, and it disturbed me, so I wrote it down.” He handed the dream to Ee-zhar.
“Hmm,” Ee-zhar mumbled as he read the dream. “Strange… Aralian, have you shown this to anyone else?”
Aralian thought. “No, well, only Gothorik just a few minutes ago… Why?”
“This is no dream Aralian, it is a vision, a revelation of things yet to come. Yggdrasil must have given you this dream… I don’t know why though…”
“Why what?” asked Aralian.
“I don’t know why Yggdrasil gave it to you of all people, either it is a coincidence, or destiny holds a very special place for you, Aralian.” Ee-zhar gave back the dream.
Aralian was lost in thoughts now. He wondered why in the world he would end up with such a revealing dream. Why did Yggdrasil want him to know that?
“Ee-zhar,” said Aralian, “does Yggdrasil care who wins this war?”
Ee-zhar thought for a moment. “I cannot say, but perhaps Yggdrasil wants something done, and the only way of getting that done is by helping the side of good win.”
“That makes sense,” said Gothorik.
“Thank you,” said Ee-zhar. “I hope I have helped. I really don’t want to speculate too much. I may not be right, but I’m sure what I said has some truth.”
“Of course, Ee-zhar,” said Aralian. “I think you’re on the right track. Now, if only I knew what we were doing stranded on a little piece of earth, out in the middle of time and space, thinking our little problems mean something…” said Aralian.
“Ha, ha!” Ee-zhar laughed. “So true, yet so discouraging. You have to act like we do matter.”
“Thanks for the explanation, Ee-zhar. Have a good night,” Aralian said, leaving with Gothorik.

When the two of them got back to their tent, they found Thore there too. He was reading a book that looked like one of Aralian’s.
“Hello, Thore,” said Aralian, trying to be nice.
“Mph!” grunted Thore, without looking up from the book.
Aralian tried not to be annoyed, so he asked, “What are you reading there?”
Thore looked at Aralian and said, “The History of the Goszerian Empires, why do you care?”
“I- I just- was- didn’t think I was bothering you,” said Aralian, sitting on his cot.
“Oh, so you think that now that you’re part of the Shadow Army we’re buddies? Well, I have something to tell you, son, you keep your mouth shut, and your head out of other people’s business, understand?” said Thore.
Thore had called him, ‘son’, now he was angry.
“You can be a little nicer!” shouted Aralian, “What is wrong with you? You get mad at the littlest things? I don’t care if your whole life has fallen apart since you were born and all your family is dead, that’s no excuse to be snapping at people who are trying to be nice!” Aralian stood up again and clenched his fists.
“Are you looking for a fight, little boy? ‘Cus you’re about to get one!” Thore yelled back, as he stood up and put his book down.
“I just might be!” said Aralian. He was really angry at Thore now for calling him a little boy, and not only that but suggesting a fight.
“You better calm yourself down before I make good use of my strength!” said Thore, advancing on Aralian.
Now Gothorik came between the two of them. “Stop it! You both need to settle down!”
“Quiet Gothorik!” shouted Aralian. “Get out of the way!” Aralian pushed him aside.
“I guess you do want a fight, eh?” yelled Thore.
“Sit down, old man!” said Aralian.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” bellowed Thore.
Thore swung at Aralian with his fist and hit him in the left jaw. That sent Aralian flying backwards.
Aralian quickly came at Thore, who was ready for it. Thore dodged Aralian’s punch and returned a blow by whapping him in the gut. Aralian keeled over and held his stomach, having just gotten the wind knocked out of him.
Thore wasted no time in kicking him on the back so that he fell over onto the side of the tent. Regaining his strength, Aralian got up very quickly and swung at Thore’s head, but he missed and hit his left shoulder.
Thore again punched Aralian in the gut, and Aralian groaned in pain.
“Take that, son!” said Thore, this time kicking Aralian in the head.
Aralian fell back and hit the tent wall, making the entire tent collapse. He was in a white jumble now; all he could see was the white tent in front of his face. He quickly got the tent off him and stood up, seeing that Thore and Gothorik had gotten out before him.
“Stop it, okay?” Gothorik said to Thore.
“Shut up and stay out of this!” said Thore. “I’m going to do what I need to do!”
Just then, as Aralian was charging at Thore, Vialk came around a nearby tent.
“What’s going on?” he shouted.
No one answered him, so he came between Aralian and Thore. Aralian hit into him, and he pushed him off.
“Get away!” shouted Aralian.
“No!” said Vialk. “Not until you tell me what’s going on!”
Thore spoke, “Just get the little wretch! He was rude, and he wanted a fight, and he wouldn’t mind his own business!”
Aralian tried to go around Vialk, but Vialk pushed him out of the way.
“Get back!” said Vialk, swinging at Aralian.
“You watch out!” said Aralian, punching back.
Then Gothorik came to Aralian’s aid by slamming into Thore just as he was about to attack Aralian from behind.
This turned into an all-out brawl between the four men, and it also generated many spectators.
People began to watch until there was a large crowd all watching the four men fight on top of the tent. They cheered for whoever they thought would win.
Aralian felt his bag underneath him as he fell to the ground after being hit by Vialk. His body moved faster than his mind as he reached under the tent and pulled the top part of his poleaxe out of his bag and held it up in front of him like a little battleaxe.
He stood up and said, “Stop it! Stop it right now or there will be blood!”
Immediately the three others stopped fighting and looked at him, all of them, even Gothorik who was on his side had fear in his eyes.
Aralian did look like a madman now, with his hair all in a mess, his lip bleeding, and the axe head held out in front of him.
Just then Tyrun came rushing onto the scene.
“Hold it! Hold it!” yelled Tyrun, coming between Aralian and the other three. “Tell me what’s the problem!”
Aralian dropped the poleaxe head on the tent and didn’t say anything.
“Nothing?” asked Tyrun. “One has a bloody lip, another a black eye, I see even one has a bloody nose.”
Aralian looked around and saw that Gothorik was the one with the bloody nose, and Thore had a black eye.
“This is a disgrace!” said Tyrun. “There hasn’t been a fight here yet, and now I’m looking at the very first one!” Tyrun kicked at the tent. “How’d this happen?”
Then Aralian said, “Thore hit me and I fell on the side of the tent. I must have gone pretty far, because the whole thing collapsed.”
“I see, but why did Thore hit you?” asked Tyrun.
“I hit the boy because he called me an old man and told me to settle down- or- or sit down, something like that!” said Thore.
Aralian was still breathing heavily. “He snapped at me for no reason, all I did was ask him what he was reading.”
“Oh my…” said Tyrun. “You all are like little children fighting over toys… when will you become men?”
Aralian felt stupid. He thought he was a man, he was confused and embarrassed. All he wanted to do was run away into the woods and never see Thore again.
“Now, I don’t care what the problem is and I don’t really want to, but what I do want is for this to end right now. All of it!” Tyrun said sternly. “Help me pitch this tent again, and not another word from the four of you for the rest of the day, hear me?”
The four who had been fighting nodded and began helping Tyrun pitch the big tent again.
After that, Aralian took his poleaxe, screwed the four pieces together, and ran out of the camp, up onto The Fangs.
There, he began to chop every branch and bush and shrub that was unlucky enough to be nearby. He swung the poleaxe this way and that, letting his frustration out with each hit.
“Why did I do that?” he screamed at himself. “I can’t be that stupid!” He chopped down a baby tree.
Then, when he was tired, he climbed a massive boulder the size of a house, and sat on the three-inch thick moss that covered it.
He sighed and looked out over the river from his spot high on The Fangs. Colder air whipped around him as gray clouds covered the low sun. He smelled the air; the fresh, cold, woody scent you smell winter was on its way came in the north wind. Only thirty or less days until sleet would fall.
The trees whispered as the wind blew them; somewhere not too far away, a crow cawed.
From that spot, he could see the camp. Somewhere around one hundred tents were pitched there, not far from the river. He could barely make out the people in the darkening light.
Aralian could barely think of a more beautiful place than The Fangs of Rooknard here by the Warvin River.
He sat there for a long time, observing his surroundings, until the half moon was overhead.
He headed back to camp that night, yawning as he got into his cot. He looked over at Thore’s cot, but Thore wasn’t there. Gothorik and Vialk were though.

The day after, Aralian woke up, ate breakfast, and headed out to the hill with Aralian to cut more trees.
Thore, Vialk, and Bhiyron were already at the hill.
There was tension between them and Aralian and Gothorik. They didn’t speak to each other, only Aralian and Gothorik said a few things every once in a while.
At the halftime break, Aralian ate quickly and then headed for the large boulder again. He liked that place now, it was somewhere he could be alone and think.
He climbed the dirt-covered side up the tall boulder wall until he reached the mossy top. He laid down on the soft surface, watching the clouds role by.
I wonder if Ee-zhar knows about that little fight yesterday, Aralian thought. I’m sure he’d scold me if he did.
After a while, he knew he had to go back to the camp, it was almost time to start work again.
He decided to take a different way down that time, the side facing towards the river, the longer side.
It was a dangerous climb down, above a fall to certain death. He made it down smoothly though, only once holding onto a piece of sandstone that cracked off in his hand.
At the bottom of the boulder he turned around and saw in front of him, a body!
Aralian swallowed and went closer. He could see new blood around the sprawled form. Flies flew around what used to contain life.
But the body was freshly dead. It had dark brown hair, and was very thin. Aralian stood over it not knowing what to do, when he realized whose body it was. It was Jock.
Aralian’s heart jumped and he stepped back a few feet. He had just seen Jock that morning.
Who could have done this? Aralian asked himself. He had to tell someone about it. Ee-zhar!
Aralian didn’t waist time in running back to camp and straight to Ee-zhar’s tent.
“It’s me, Aralian! We need to talk, now!” said Aralian.
“What’s the problem?” asked Ee-zhar, letting him in.
Aralian could see by his eyes that Ee-zhar was anxious now. He walked over near his cot and stood.
“Ee-zhar, Jock is dead!” said Aralian. “I don’t know what happened, I was climbing in The Fangs when I found his body there… do you think I killed him?”
Ee-zhar just stared at him. He looked at the ground and then back at Aralian. He sighed. “I do not think you killed him, Aralian. But I saw Jock just this morning while I was going to talk to Gorgavhm.”
“Who killed him?” demanded Aralian. He was afraid. I could be next! He thought.
“I don’t know. I don’t think it was a Rastakei, unless- where exactly was his body?” asked Ee-zhar.
“It was at the bottom of a tall boulder, around a thirty foot drop down. It looked like he fell off it,” said Aralian.
Ee-zhar nodded and said grimly, “Aralian, I think I know what happened.”
“How?”
“Listen. It could have been an accident, or even a suicide, but I saw Jock go into the woods after I came back from Gorgavhm’s hut on the other side of the river around the halftime break. I was about to run and catch up with him, when I saw Thore following not far behind him.
“I asked him where he was going, he said for a walk along the ridge. Then I forgot I wanted to go with Jock, and I continued on to the camp.
“Later, I see Thore, but no Jock, and you come running to me with news that Jock is dead.
“Jock had told me that up on the cliff was his favorite place to go during the halftime break. Thore was present when he told me that.”
“So Thore did it!” Aralian exclaimed angrily. “He went after the inexperienced person!”
“Ah, ah! We don’t know that, do we? And for heaven’s sake, keep your blasted voice down!” Ee-zhar said. He looked at Aralian in the eyes. “I heard about that little brawl yesterday…”
“I thought you would…” said Aralian looking down.
“Mm… it’s okay, but it proves that Thore doesn’t act his age, and that he can’t be trusted. He should’ve ended that argument, not started it,” said Ee-zhar. “You watch your back Aralian, keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut, hear me? I think I can trust you… it’s your attitude that I like, very sincere.”
“Thank you,” said Aralian. “What should I no now.”
“Like I said, said Ee-zhar. “Eyes and ears open, mouth shut. Listen to what people say around you, not just their words, but the tone of their voice. Only fall asleep halfway, be conscious while you rest. Do not speak unless spoken to if you are with someone you are not sure you can trust.
“I’ll tell you who you can always trust though: Gorgavhm, Jeiuhb, Ré, Haili, Demaluxvian, Darhoth, and of course, me.”
“Good, I know I can trust Gothorik too,” said Aralian.
“Yes, I’m sure you can,” Ee-zhar said. “Now be careful, go to your tent and watch out for people like Thore, I don’t know if he’s guilty or not, but there’s way to big of a chance. Let me deal with this, I’ll tell the others and we’ll bury the body and figure things out, I’ll come to you when we do.”
Aralian left Ee-zhar’s tent barely feeling better about the situation. If Thore really did kill Jock, then who would he be after next, him? Gothorik? Or people in the Shadow Army who were less experienced?
He went back to the logging hill. His team was already there, starting on a new tree.
There, Aralian saw Thore, hacking away at his section of the tree as if nothing was wrong.
“Where have you been?” asked Gothorik.
Again Aralian nervously glanced at Thore. “L- lost track of time, that’s all.”
“Hmm,” said Gothorik. “Get to work! Ha, ha!”
Aralian tried to laugh, but when he did, it was weak and distracted. So he grabbed his axe and began working on the bare section of the tree.
What he really felt like doing was taking his axe down on Thore’s head instead of the tree, or even pretending to miss the tree and hit Thore by accident who was straight to the right of him.
The longer he worked, the more he considered doing it, and the more he considered the fact that Thore might be planning to do the same to him.
He hit the tree again and again, and then stopped for a second to get his balance.
He contemplated actually doing it this next time, but then he remembered that Ee-zhar had said, so he kept his head low and his axe at the trunk of the tree.
After a while, Gothorik asked, “Hey Aralian, I haven’t seen Jock since the break, have you? His work team is right over there, without him.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Aralian saw Thore stop for a moment and then go back to chopping.
A chill went through Aralian’s spine as he hit the tree once more before saying, “No, has anyone else?”
At once he scolded himself in his mind for saying more than he had to. How obvious is a stupid question like that? He asked himself.
Vialk was the first to say no, then Bhiyron, but Thore didn’t say anything. No one else seemed to notice that, but Aralian did, and it made his heart grow ten times heavier.
Jock had been a nice person. He had never said something Aralian thought was rude. And he was so young, younger than Aralian.
He died at his favorite place, thought Aralian. He felt sorry for Jock.
They finished up their work for the day; Aralian was so relieved when he was done that he practically ran from the scene.
“Gothorik, come with me!” Aralian said. “I have got to tell you something very important.
Gothorik followed Aralian up onto The Fangs, into the clearing they had used for the meeting the day before. It was a cool, shady place, under the shadow of gnarly pines.
“What’s up, Aralian?” asked Gothorik.
“I think Thore killed Jock,” said Aralian.
“You mean that guy that told everyone about the Rastakeis around the fire? He’s is the Shadow Army?” said Gothorik.
“Yes, I talked to Ee-zhar about it, he says he’ll figure it out with the others, he needs some time.”
Aralian told Gothorik what Ee-zhar had seen, when Thore had followed Jock. He also told him what Ee-zhar had said about keeping low and keeping your mouth shut.
“Wow,” said Gothorik, “to think I just blurted out the fact that Jock was missing when his killer what right next to me… I don’t know if I’ll be able to fall asleep tonight knowing Thore’s in the tent.”
“Me neither,” said Aralian. “I hope Ee-zhar figures this out soon, it’s driving me crazy not being able to do something about it…”
“I guess we both need to learn patience,” Gothorik said solemnly. “Poor Jock, I don’t plan on ending up like him. We’re going to have to watch out, Aralian. All the time. I mean, who knows who we can trust?”
“Ee-zhar told me we can definitely trust him, Gorgavhm, Jeiuhb, Ré, Haili, Demaluxvian, and Darhoth, people who have done something big for the Shadow Army. A traitor, no matter how well he wants to blend in, would never do something like give away large pieces of information or kill enemy scouts,” said Aralian.
“I feel so small now,” said Gothorik, sitting on a large stone.
“Me too,” said Aralian, sitting next to him. “I’m ready to fight! Bring it on! No more of this waiting business.”
He and Gothorik shared a precious moment of laughter.
Then Gothorik got serious. “Aralian,” he said, “I have always wanted a brother. My one older sister went to live in Warvin a while ago, the other still lives in Dex Balix. But I never had a brother… Will you be my brother? You know, the kind that watches your back and would give his life for you?”
“Of course I will, Gothorik,” said Aralian, holding out his hand.
Gothorik grabbed his hand and held it firmly. “Brothers?” he said.
“Brothers.”



~XIII~
No Matter What
---------------------

Aralian and Gothorik went back to camp after they talked for a while longer.
Aralian felt good knowing that he had someone he could trust like a brother, but still he was anxious about what would happen with Thore.
By the time they got there, dinner was being served. It was another turkey. That was what they mostly ate there, but that night there was a specialty, apples.
Vialk came over to Aralian and Gothorik with his hands full of apples.
“Will you look at this?” he said. “Fresh fruit right here!”
Aralian and Gothorik both took apples from Vialk.
“Thanks,” said Aralian.
“No problem. We get fruit once a week, that’s it!” said Vialk. Then he said, “Hey, Aralian, and Gothorik, listen. I don’t want you to think I don’t like you two. I didn’t mean to side with Thore, I just- I’ve known Thore longer than I’ve know you, I thought it was the right thing to-"
“It’s okay, Vialk,” said Aralian.
“Yeah,” said Gothorik. “It doesn’t matter. If you say you’re sorry, then we forgive you.”
“Thanks guys…” Vialk sat on the log next to them. “I don’t really like Thore. Especially today… you know, he’s been acting weird. He’s usually fairly nice to me, but today- I don’t know…”
Aralian didn’t know what to say, he sensed that in Gothorik too. Once again he remembered what Ee-zhar had said. So instead of talking, he took a bite of one of his apples and realized how long it had been since he had eaten fruit.
He savored every bite of the apple, and ate the core too, not wanting to waist any of it. There had been so much fruit in Dex Balix, here, he hadn’t even seen an apple tree.
I guess that’s why they call it the edge of the wilderness.
“Gothorik?” asked Aralian.
“Yep?”
“How close are we to Warvin?”
“I… don’t know,” said Gothorik.
“I know,” Vialk said, finishing his apple core too. “Warvin’s border starts right on the other side of The Fangs. If you’ve been doing a lot of climbing around up there, you’ve probably been in Warvin.
“From there though, it’s about anther day and a half’s journey to the first city, all the rest before then are pint-sized farming villages.”
“Hmm…” Aralian thought to himself. “What’s it like there?”
“You mean compared to Dex Balix?” asked Vialk. “I don’t know, I’ve never been to Dex Balix.”
“It’s a hill-filled land,” said Gothorik. “From what I remember, there are little or no big forests. It’s very different from Dex Balix, landscape-wise. But the people are mostly the same.”
“Interesting,” said Aralian.
“Why do you ask?” asked Gothorik.
“I don’t know, no one ever told me anything about the place, I was curious as to what is was like there.”
Later that night, when the fire was low and the sky was black and starry, Aralian was walking to his tent, alone.
“Aralian,” said a cool deep voice.
Aralian whirled around and looked into the darkness between two tents. Someone was standing there, he had a black and gray checkered cape, and a black mask decorated with blue jay feathers and intricate little designs. It was Kavelir.
Aralian was about to yell at him, ask him why he tricked Valiad, but he kept his mouth shut about it. Instead, he pretended he hadn’t been startled.
“I know what you’ve come for,” said Aralian in a dark voice.
“Yes,” Kavelir replied, “my money. Where is it? Where is Valiad’s body? Prove to me that he’s dead.”
Aralian hadn’t thought about that. He concentrated his entire mind on getting an answer. “I killed him, and I- I threw his body into the river to dispose of it.”
Kavelir came closer so that his whole body was visible. His purple eyes glinted in the starlight. “Good man, now get me the money,” he said.
“I’ll be right back,” said Aralian. “As soon as you tell me why you didn’t come for it earlier.”
Kavelir frowned and leaned forward. “I had things I needed to do, things I can’t tell knaves like you…”
“Who’s the knave here, Kavelir?” Aralian asked seriously.
Kavelir sneered. “I think I am. And that title’s been earned over three decades of hard work. I am more than you think I am, little man.”
Aralian fought to keep his anger from exploding now. “I don’t want to know who you are! I know enough to know that you’re a scoundrel with who’d rather be a thief than earn his way in life!”
“Quiet!” said Kavelir. “That may be true, but as I already told you, me and my people in Vlair d’Mahz are looking for something.”
“What are you looking for?” asked Aralian.
“That, I cannot tell you, because it is too great for your mind to comprehend. Something that all who know of it desire more than anything. They’d give their only child or their castle for it. I’ll leave that to you to figure out… now get me my money.”
Aralian didn’t even believe in the thing he was searching for, and didn’t really care about it anyway. So he left Kavelir and went to his tent and looked in his bag. He got out Valiad’s money, and brought it back to Kavelir.
Kavelir took it and examined the bag’s weight. “Hmm… seems to be the right amount… but if it’s not, I’ll be back for you.
“Now, anytime you like, you can stay at my palace in Vlair d’Mahz. We can be friends or enemies Aralian, your choice.” With that, he disappeared into the shadows again.
I’m glad that’s over, thought Aralian, as he went back to his tent.
Thore, Gothorik, and Vialk were there, just as they had been when he had gotten the money. But he had done it so fast that they barely had time to say hi to him.
Gothorik was showing Vialk one of Aralian’s books.
“You like that book don’t you?” asked Aralian.
Gothorik looked up and said, “Yeah, this history one is very interesting.”
“What are you reading?”
“I’m showing Vialk that one I showed you, Fallhavm and Feiratox,” said Gothorik.
“It’s really sad,” said Vialk.
“I know.” Aralian sat on his cot and took off his boots. He reached into his bag and took out the language book. Flipping through the pages of it, he saw lists of Kjordic words, and then foreign words next to them.
Which language do I want to learn? He looked at the cover. It said, ‘Azgarnian, Dwarf, and Samarodian Languages. For speakers of Kjordic.’
I’ll probably never need to know Dwarf. I’ll go with Samarodian.
He memorized Samarodian words until the others went to bed. Then he blew out the lantern’s small flame and put the book down.
He closed his eyes and took in the silence. Nothing, not a sound except for his own breathing.
Then he remembered that Thore was in the tent, and his eyes opened abruptly. His eyes looked in the direction of Thore’s cot, even though he couldn’t see a thing.
Was he really sleeping, or merely pretending? Aralian had no idea, and the thought it haunted him. He didn’t know if or when Thore was going to get up and kill him in his sleep.
He couldn’t bring himself to shut his eyes for even a moment for hours. After a while he was able to fall asleep for a few minutes at a time, barely getting his mind off Thore. He fell asleep, and then woke up, fell asleep, and then woke up.
All night he did this, making it last forever, until morning broke over the western sky.
Aralian yawned as he woke up for the umpteenth time, sitting upright on his cot. He was tired, but couldn’t go back to sleep even if he had wanted to.
So he went out of the tent and ate an early breakfast with all the other people who got up with the sun.
It was nice organizing my life to the sound of the Canthsville Clock, thought Aralian. I wish I knew what time it really was.
He took a bite of bread and cheese. I could never sleep another night like that! I’m going to go talk to Ee-zhar right now.
But before he went, sense got the best of him and he stayed put. Ee-zhar told me that he would come to me when he found out more, but I can’t stand to wait any longer!
After a while, Gothorik came stumbling to the fire.
“Oh, I had the worst night ever!” he said to Aralian as he grabbed a loaf of bread. “Here, have an apple I saved from last night.”
“Thanks,” Aralian said, gratefully taking the apple. “I couldn’t sleep either, with Thore there, never.”
Gothorik nodded as he stuffed his mouth full of bread.
Aralian looked at Gothorik. “Do you always do that?”
“Wh?” Gothorik asked with his mouth packed full.
Aralian laughed. “You always stuff your mouth full of food, you look like a chipmunk in autumn!”
Gothorik swallowed all the bread. “Well, I put all the food into my cheek and then slowly eat it sideways.” He laughed.
Aralian ate more food. “I’m never doing that again, sleeping in the tent with Thore.”
“Me neither,” said Gothorik. “I’d never get any sleep!”
Thore then came into the fire pit area and began to eat, so Aralian and Gothorik said nothing after that.

They worked again on trees that day; Aralian made sure he wasn’t next to Thore.
Bhiyron must have noticed that Aralian and Gothorik weren’t speaking as much as usual, and he asked, “Hey you two? Lost your tongues?”
Aralian and Gothorik laughed lightly, but they did not say anything.
“You’re usually talking your mouths off,” said Bhiyron. “Now you don’t say a thing!”
“I guess there’s nothing left to say,” Aralian said as he cut a large lower branch off the massive tree.
“Sure there is!” said Bhiyron. “You’re always talking about things you used to do together and that good ol’ Dex Balix up north.”
“How about you don’t encourage them?” Thore suddenly said. “It’s kind of nice and peaceful for a change!”
The sound of Thore’s voice made Aralian’s heart jump, and what he said didn’t make Aralian or Gothorik feel any better.
At the break, Aralian decided that he had to tell Ee-zhar how he felt. He asked Gothorik how if he wanted to go with him, but Gothorik just said, “Go without me, you know how I feel about it, just speak for me. I don’t feel like going to his tent right now.”
Aralian felt like he must be bothering Ee-zhar a lot by always going to him for answers, but he went anyway.
“It’s Aralian, the person who comes here every single day,” said Aralian when he came to Ee-zhar’s tent.
“Come in, come in…” said Ee-zhar. “Don’t worry about bothering me, I’m willing to help.”
“Good,” said Aralian, “because I am in need of it. You see, I couldn’t fall asleep for more than ten minutes at a time last night,” said Aralian.
“I didn’t think you would,” said Ee-zhar. “I’m sorry for that but there was nothing I could do about it.”
“You don’t know how it is not being able to sleep at night because you think the person a few feet away from you will kill you at any second!” yelled Aralian.
Ee-zhar grabbed Aralian by the neck of his shirt and pulled him close to his face. “You listen here, Aralian!” he said threateningly. “Don’t you think for one minute that I don’t fear for my life, not only at nighttime, but every hour of the day! There are more people that want to kill me than can live in all of Warvin!”
Ee-zhar’s bandanna heaved in and out as Ee-zhar breathed heavily. “I don’t care what you think either, if you’d rather remain ignorant than know the truth, fine by me! Thore is looking to kill me too!”
Aralian frowned and stared Ee-zhar in the eyes. He didn’t know what to think, he had nothing to say except, “I’m sorry… I didn’t bother to imagine what it must be like.”
Ee-zhar let go of Aralian’s shirt and Aralian stepped back.
“I care what happens to you Aralian, you are a special person…” said Ee-zhar.
“Then if you care, help me deal with this problem,” said Aralian.
Ee-zhar sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Aralian, there is a great war at hand, one that will be extremely decisive. The last thing we want is for it to start now.
“Sadly, I fear it will happen soon enough, no matter what.”
“No matter what?” asked Aralian.
“Yes.”























~XIV~
Killers
---------

Ee-zhar stood on the top of the cliff, overlooking the Rastakei camp. He frowned at the sight.
There are too many of them, he thought. This is no time for taking matters lightly! Get a grip on yourself! You are usually so sure about things like this.
He had been thinking a lot about the problem with Thore. Aralian was so sure that he was the one who had killed Jock, he should be sure too…
Some thing must be done! I have got to put an end to Thore’s vile ways… but how?
Ee-zhar turned his back on the Rastakei encampment and headed back to the camp. He was tired of the conflict already, even though only less that a year had gone by since the joining of the Shadow Army.
The pressure was all on him now. The enemies knew him by name and wanted him to be dead. Thore had to be killed, as soon as possible.
Ee-zhar unsheathed his two knifes. This is where I got my name, eh? Ee-zhar Knifes?
He fingered their smooth surface as he walked. They were dangerous weapons if you knew how to use them and hold them.
I liked my old name better… But I had to change it, or enemies would know who I really was.
He put the two knifes back in their sheathes as he came into the camp. It was the same day as Aralian had talked to him about having to sleep in the same tent as Thore.
There was only one option that seemed right to Ee-zhar: become killers, destroy the all forces of evil before they became too confident.
What does a mad dog do when cornered? He fights back with only one goal in mind: getting out of the tight space. That is what we must do, fight back!
Ee-zhar walked straight into camp and to his tent. He had to kill Thore with the help of other people in the Shadow Army. He couldn’t just walk straight into Thore’s tent and stab him. It would cause too much noise and unnecessary arousing of the camp leaders.
There had to be a distraction, something loud enough and noticeable enough to take attention off the main plan…
A fight! It couldn’t fail. Two people would get into a big argument. Not Aralian or Gothorik, they would probably be thrown out if they got if they started another fight.
Two different people would do it, Jeiuhb and Gorgavhm. Yes! They would get into a fistfight, and make a distraction in about an hour.
It was a good thing that Jeiuhb had been staying at Gorgavhm’s house and spying with him these last few days.
Ee-zhar went back across the river with this idea in his head. Around the side of a large sandstone wall, was Gorgavhm’s small hut he had made.

It was near the river, but in a spot that was hard to see from outside the forest. There was no grass around his hut, only yellow sand that had fallen from the cliff.
There were small veins of iron ore running through the sandstone, sticking out further because of their hardness.
“Gorgavhm! Are you here?” shouted Ee-zhar as he came into the large clearing by his hut.
The wicker door opened and Gorgavhm’s tall form stepped out. “Ee-zhar! Wut’re y’ doing ‘round here?”
Ee-zhar shook the hand of the tall barbarian. “I need your help, and Jeiuhb’s.”
Gorgavhm looked up at the cliff. “Well Jeiuhb’s off a checkin’ ‘is rabbit traps in The Fangs. Don’t know when he’ll be back.”
Ee-zhar explained his plan to kill Thore, and why he needed him and Jeiuhb.
“I see,” said Gorgavhm. “So what y’ told me yesterday, about Thore ‘n’ all, y’ think it’s true? Thore killed Jock?”
“There’s no time to be passive,” said Ee-zhar strictly. “If he didn’t kill Jock, let the dogs trample my grave. I feel this is the right thing to do, Gorgavhm. I can’t stand the way Thore acts sometimes, he’s so… unlikable.”
“Yes, I never, ever liked ol’ Thore!” Gorgavhm said. “I’m with you.”
“Thanks,” said Ee-zhar. “I wonder when Jeiuhb will come back…?”
“Soon, I suppose,” said Gorgavhm. He looked at Ee-zhar. “Why d’ y’ even wear that bandanna aroun’ me? You know it doesn’t matter, I already know.”
“You’re right, I don’t need it with you,” said Ee-zhar, as he pulled the bandanna off.

Aralian walked the length of his tent for the hundredth time in an hour. He kept pacing back and forth, waiting for dinner.
He was thinking of a plan, something he could do to kill Thore. He could simply kill him as he walked into the tent, or kill him while he slept.
But how would he cover it up? What would he do with the body?
I could have Gothorik help me take it to the river… he thought. But how would we get it by all the people?
As these thoughts bounded through his head, someone outside the tent said, “Anyone in there?”
Aralian recognized the voice and went out of the tent. It was Ee-zhar.
“Ee-zhar? What are you doing here?” he asked as he noticed Gorgavhm and Jeiuhb standing there too.
Ee-zhar whispered in Aralian’s ear. “Today we become killers. Stand by and watch, we will do the dirty work.”
Aralian understood. They had come to get rid of Thore once and for all, but how?
Aralian couldn’t help, and that made him somewhat annoyed. He had wanted to do something to avenge Jock’s death, anything but stand around and watch.
Ee-zhar slowly walked away from the tent and stood by another one on the other side of the pathway.
It was beginning to get dark, and Aralian knew that Ee-zhar was waiting for Thore. The clouds were orange now, reflecting the color of the sun and tossing it into the sky in a large array of color.
The air was still now, and a whippoorwill sang loudly in the trees.
It seemed like a long time to Aralian, but really they had only been waiting for a few minutes when Thore walked into view.
Aralian’s heart jumped as he saw him, coming up the pathway. He hid himself from view so that Thore would not stop but go straight into the tent.
Not a moment after Thore entered the tent, Ee-zhar moved out of the shadows and Jeiuhb and Gorgavhm too.
Then, the plan unraveled before Aralian, as each part was acted out as in a play. Gorgavhm pushed Jeiuhb, Jeiuhb pushed back. They began to yell loudly at each other.
“Get out of my way, you lumbering oaf!” shouted Jeiuhb.
“Ah! Git yerself outa th’ way, kid!” Gorgavhm yelled back, throwing a punch.
Immediately, Ee-zhar walked into the tent. Aralian heard nothing of what happened after; Jeiuhb and Gorgavhm were making too much noise with their raving.
Ee-zhar had probably already killed Thore by now; it had been about a minute since he had gone into the tent.
But how will they get the body out? wondered Aralian.
People began to gather around Jeiuhb and Gorgavhm just as they had when Aralian and Thore had fought. Aralian saw that they did not recognize the two of them, and were talking among themselves about it.
Tyrun would come any minute to stop the fighting and yell at them. He would not be happy at all.
Jeiuhb swung at Gorgavhm and hit him in the face. It looked bad, but Aralian knew that Jeiuhb had stopped right before he had hit.
They put on quite a good act, but all that getting hit would have made a real fight already over. One of them would already have been knocked out, it was starting to look fake…
Just as Aralian thought, Tyrun came running up. “Who are you two?” he yelled. “Stop now! NOW!” Tyrun pushed the two fighters apart. “What do you think you’re doing?”
As Jeiuhb and Gorgavhm explained, no one noticed the person carrying a cot out of Aralian’s tent.
Aralian saw it though, and he knew the cot was not only some wrapped up cloth. Ee-zhar staggered under the weight of a body, as he slowly carried it out of the camp.
Aralian left his position. He walked around a tent and out of the encampment area in the direction Ee-zhar had gone, towards the Fangs of Rooknard.
He could see the white of the cot in the woods. As soon as he was out of sight of the camp he ran over to Ee-zhar.
“Ee-zhar,” said Aralian, running up to him.
“Aralian, help me with this body,” grunted Ee-zhar.
Aralian grabbed the wooden supports of the cot. It was heavy. He could see the cloth slowly becoming blood red. Thore was finally dead.
“So,” said Aralian, “what happened in there?”
“In the tent?” asked Thore.
Aralian nodded as they walked up the stony hill in the forest.
“I asked him, ‘why did you kill Jock?’” said Ee-zhar. “He stared at me for a moment and then asked, ‘what? How do you know- I mean, what makes you think I killed anyone?’ He tried to cover what he said by quickly asking a different question, but I had already heard what he said, ‘how do you know?’”
“I see,” said Aralian. “That was a stupid thing for him to do…”
“Very foolish,” said Ee-zhar. “I don’t know how or why he was working for the Shadow Army, and I don’t care much either.
“But this is a good lesson for you Aralian: you cannot trust anyone you don’t know very well.”
“Yes,” said Aralian. “This is dangerous. It could have been me that he killed, I wonder why he chose Jock instead…”
“Maybe he was afraid of you,” suggested Ee-zhar.
“Afraid? Of me? I don’t think so!” said Aralian.
“It’s a possibility,” said Ee-zhar. “You never know what others see in you.”
Aralian looked at the cot and imagined the body inside. Even though he hated Thore, it was still a sad thing to see someone dead, no matter who it was. It was a life, ended.
“War is a terrible thing,” said Ee-zhar. “Always. It is easy to fantasize it as an exciting, entertaining thing… I am tired already of this war.”
“I’ve only known about it for less than two weeks,” said Aralian. “It is a terrible thing.”
“I wonder if we’ll have a great champion in this war, to lead us into battle,” said Ee-zhar.
“Yeah, I hope so too. People need to look up to someone or they’ll forget what they’re fighting for and lose heart,” said Aralian.
Ee-zhar did not respond, but he nodded. There was a stronger sense of bond between the two of them now, as they carried the body up the hill.
After a few minutes, they reached the top of the ridge. The top was sort of flat. They set the body on the ground and stretched.
“Ugh, my back hurts!” said Ee-zhar.
“Where are we putting it?” asked Aralian.
“I have already found a place,” said Ee-zhar slyly. “Right over there.” He pointed to a small cave-like space in the rock on the other side of the ridge.
“Good idea,” said Aralian. “Here, I’ll help you take it over there.”
They dragged the cot over to the cave and left it deep inside.
“Not a very respectful grave,” said Aralian.
“-Respectful?” asked Ee-zhar. “Respect? Aralian, have you forgotten what this person did? I hope you haven’t!”
Aralian swallowed hard and sighed. “No, I know. He doesn’t deserved any respect.” His heart felt heavy.
Ee-zhar put a hand on Aralian’s shoulder. “Be strong, Aralian. There are few ways to find happiness in the world, get them, and cherish them,” he said.
Aralian had the feeling Ee-zhar had been through a hard life, with many losses.
“Thank you,” said Aralian.
Ee-zhar nodded sharply, and said, “We are killers now, Aralian. Watch your back…
“Come on, let’s find those two brawlers.”



~XV~
A Bloody Future
-----------------------

Sarile breathed deeply as her maid tightened her corset. It made her feel strangled, suffocated, all the air sucked out of her.
The maid helped her get into the dark blue and gold dress. It was too hot out for any of her other dresses, so she got to wear her favorite, light one.
Sarile was the princess of Ogsdinra. Her father, Maxaton Villar, ruled the land wisely, taking into care all matters of war and peace.
Sarile was very beautiful. She was an only child. Her eyes were dark blue and her hair light brown and wavy, at fifteen years of age. She wasn’t very tall, four inches above five feet. She lived in the capitol city, Vispairiorth, in a large, spread out palace.
The palace was not tall, with large spires and high towers, but it was low to the ground and only had two floors. The walls of the palace were decorated with large murals of battles and everyday scenes of Ogsdinra.
The palace grounds covered thirty-five acres of land. There were two pools in the courtyard. A stream ran through it, with willows hanging over.
It was on the edge of the city of Larkhaven, which was near the desert. The sun beat down on and scourged the already dry land. Barely any trees grew there, and the ones that did were date and other fruit trees, not used for building.
They got all the wood they needed from the Warvin Lumber Camp one-hundred-and-fifty miles upriver.
Sarile thought the smell of the pinewood was the most refreshing scent in the world. The musty, ancient, dark aroma it gave to the buildings that were made out of it, like certain parts of the palace.
Sarile was getting ready for her father’s public speech that day. She would have to sit beside him and her mother as he gave the speech to thousands of Ogsdinran citizens.
It was really a boring thing to do, sit there and ‘act pretty’ in front of the public. Sitting straight and looking forward, always listening to what her father said.
At heart, Sarile was adventurous, she wanted to explore, to see places in the world, and not just learn about them. But she was convinced that that would never happen.
“Come now, Sarile,” said Liliah, her maid, and one of her best friends.
“Oh…” said Sarile. “I don’t want to sit there again in the boring public speeches…”
Liliah was older than Sarile; she and her family were faithful servants to the king’s palace.
“Sarile, what would your father say?” asked Liliah.
Sarile hated to think of it, so she pushed the thought out of her mind. “This must be my least favorite thing, I’ve got to sit for hours while they talk about little incidents that happened throughout the empire, none of my business.” Sarile looked out of the open window onto the courtyard below.
Her father was already on his way to the amphitheater. It was a large, open-roofed, circular building that could seat thousands of people and was built in such a way that you could hear a pin drop all the way on across the room.
Now she had to meet up with her mother on the lower level of the palace and go with her to the amphitheater.
Long… boring… speeches… she thought, as she followed Liliah down the staircase.
Sarile’s mother waited for her at the bottom of the stairs.
“Sarile! You look like such a lady with that new dress!” said her mother.
Sarile didn’t much care what she looked like, and she knew that the compliment from her mother was just to make her feel better. Her mother knew how much she hated the public speeches.
They walked to the carriage and got inside, and did not speak as it moved along the bumpy road towards the middle of the city.
Sarile was tired; she had gotten little sleep last night because of a nightmare she had had that night. It had been bloody and terrifying.
There were a thousand chanting voices in the nightmare, what they had said had been extremely strange and evil sounding, some of it even seemed like a lie.
The main theme of the nightmare had been destruction, and then a new birth, all empires united under one all-powerful ruler.
It had been very vivid, as if it were going to happen for sure, at some time in the near future.
Sarile was not sure how much she cared, so she didn’t tell anyone about it. The grisly violence still gripped at her mind all morning.
She and her mother reached the amphitheater and they got out of the carriage.
It was a very tall building, with large marble statues of the previous kings of Ogsdinra. There were four entrances, each a large archway leading to the many rows of stone benches.
She sat with her father in the large covered place on one side of the amphitheater. Her mother sat on the other side.
People filed in. The better seats were given to tax collectors, commanders of the militia, and all other important people.
Lower, more crowded benches were given to regular citizens who had paid to attend the public speeches, and the center of the amphitheater was crowded with people who had taken the free standing room.
 It was boring sitting there waiting for the people to file in. She looked straight at the far wall of the amphitheater, and let her mind go blank.
After a while, her father stood up and began to speak.
The people listened intently, hoping to hear something they didn’t already know.
Maxaton started his speech by stating the fact that winter was coming soon, and they had to prepare for the rainy season.
“The rains will come soon,” he said with a voice of authority. “It is already mid-October, in less than a month we must be ready.
“In addition to that, a commander of our army war marching his army on the outskirts of our empire when a creature came up to him and demanded Ogsdinra to give itself over to his army.
“The creature was said to have gray skin, orange eyes and small, pointed teeth. It called itself, a Rastakei.”
There was no noise throughout the entire amphitheater. The way the king had said it so bluntly had struck everyone dumb.
“Our commander obviously said ‘no’, which resulted in the Rastakei declaring war on our empire.
“We have known about these creatures, and another kind too, for almost a year, but never thought of them as a threat. It was too easy for us to panic and attack them first. Their army is vast, and we know nothing of where it came from and why it has declared war on us. But I am hoping that we will find someone who does soon.”
Sarile was listening now. She breathed fast as she listened to her father’s words.
War? Monsters? These things had never been talked about in the public speeches before, and for the first time in her life Sarile listened intently to what the king said.
The king went on to say more things about the mysterious attackers. The army had to prepare. There was a war on the horizon; something had to be done about the advancing threat. They didn’t know how long they had until the Rastakeis attacked or how large their force would be.

As the afternoon rolled by, the king had said everything he needed, and the people were all shocked. Every word the king had said had been taken in, turned over, and examined, but the citizens of Ogsdinra.
Sarile knew that the news would spread faster than a forest fire as soon as the people exited the amphitheater. So as the king finished up his speech, she realized how precious peace between empires was, for she had never experienced war before.
She and her mother quickly left the amphitheater through a special corridor in back of where they had been sitting, as to not get caught up in the masses of people that were also leaving.
The ride home was a bit slower because it was later in the day and more people were traveling through town. The carriage driver hummed to himself as he lazily steered the horses.
Sarile was deep in thought, thinking about the Rastakeis, and what they planned to do. But she did not talk to her mother about how she felt.
War was on it’s way, and to a young beauty like her, it seemed the end of the world was coming, and she was facing the beginning of the end head on.

















~XVI~
The First Storm Clouds
------------------------------

Aralian swung his poleaxe over his head and brought it down on Gothorik’s shield, stopping right before it hit too hard.
“You could’ve broken my shield with that one!” said Gothorik.
Aralian stuck the end of his poleaxe in the dirt. It was the twentieth day of October, six days since Ee-zhar had killed Thore.
They had been training every day for hours since then. Ee-zhar was surprised at how well Aralian could fight, but told him he was still in need of a lot of training.
Aralian worked as hard as he could to build up strength and skill with his poleaxe. Practicing-fighting anyone that would agree to it, and when they didn’t he did push-ups and other exercises to build up his muscles.
He was up on the Fangs of Rooknard, practice-fighting Gothorik, when Ee-zhar walked up.
“You two seem to be getting better,” he said, standing nearby.
“How long have you been watching?” asked Aralian.
“Oh, not long, I just walked up and watched you for a few seconds, impressive! But ah, be careful with those weapons, they’re not dulled or anything.”
Aralian looked at his poleaxe, it was a very dangerous weapon, and so was Gothorik’s sword. Any wrong move and they’d be seriously injured or even killed.
“So I came by to tell you something very important,” said Ee-zhar. “One of the many warriors of the Shadow Army who stay in Ogsdinra attended a public speech of the king, Maxaton. The king told about an attack plan on Ogsdinra that the Rastakeis had threatened to unleash.
“These are the first clouds of the storm, the first battles that kill of the weaker and unprepared quickly. But that will not be us, we have been prepared for a long while now.
“That warrior came to me today, it took him five days to reach me on foot, and it will take us five days to get there.”
Aralian listened closely, barely moving. It was the beginning of the war. In some ways in was frightening, and caught him off guard, but in other ways it was relieving, like the thing he had been expecting had finally come.
There was a long moment of silence. Gothorik’s mouth hung open as he looked at Aralian.
“You mean… we’re going to leave as soon as possible?” asked Aralian. “Like… today?”
Ee-zhar scratched his head. “Not exactly, but very soon. I don’t know if we’ll even be there before the fighting starts. This could be very bad if we’re not.”
Aralian and Gothorik nodded. Aralian could tell that Gothorik was a little more caught off guard than he was.
“I… don’t know what to do exactly,” said Ee-zhar. “This is a brittle task, and must be handled with care. I’ve got to regroup the entire Shadow Army, and then get them to Ogsdinra…”
Aralian nodded. There were only a few days until the war would begin.
Then Ee-zhar said, “You two can help me by telling the message runner about this. He lives on the other side of the Fangs of Rooknard, under the shadow of a tall sandstone formation that resembles a ship.”
“Should we go and tell him right now?” asked Gothorik.
“What do you think?” Ee-zhar asked back.
Gothorik looked at the ground and stabbed at a shrew that ran past. “I think we should go now…”
“Good man!” Ee-zhar slapped him on the back.
“Let’s bring our weapons back first,” said Aralian, walking towards the Lumber Camp.
“Wait! No, no!” exclaimed Ee-zhar. “Don’t put your weapons away! Have you lost your mind?” Ee-zhar grabbed Aralian’s shoulder and turned him around.
“I- uh… you’re right…” Aralian looked at his poleaxe. What was he thinking?
“This isn’t just training anymore,” said Ee-zhar. “Don’t you go and forget that, young warrior. Now go! Go, and make haste! That message runner will bring whatever you say to five other message runners, and they’ll bring the news to even more, and so on. Got it?”
“Yes sir!” said Aralian and Gothorik together.
Ee-zhar pointed to a path over in the woods. “That’ll take you right to it if I remember correctly.”
So Aralian and Gothorik walked through the woods, and Ee-zhar went back to the camp.
“A ‘sandstone formation that resembles a ship’,” said Gothorik. “Keep your eyes open.”
Aralian kept his eyes on the path so he wouldn’t trip and fall. It was a steep walk down this side of the Fangs.
He nodded to what Gothorik said. “He didn’t tell us how far off it was though,” he said.
“Yeah, it couldn’t be that far though…” said Gothorik. “It still has to be near to the Fangs, right?”
Aralian laughed and looked at Gothorik. “Don’t ask me! I’ve never been on this side of them.”
“Well, I haven’t been this far down before either. But I’m just saying, this sandstone stuff can’t go on forever,” Gothorik said.
“I don’t know.” Aralian looked ahead. They were already coming out of the woods, leaving the tall pines behind them and facing a field scattered here and there with large boulders, some as big as three houses. The field was made up of tall grasses and withering flowers. The path was now made of small sandstone pebbles.
“These must have fallen off the Fangs of Rooknard a long time ago,” said Aralian, looking up at them. “They don’t look like they’re connected to the ground.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Gothorik looked into the distance and pointed. “Look that way! There are even bigger ones over there! They’re so tall!”
“Whoa…” Aralian’s mouth dropped.
If the Fangs of Rooknard had looked impressive, they were nothing compared to the sandstone spires that towered monstrously over the fields. The strange thing was, they did not gradually rise in elevation, but stuck straight up, perpendicular to the ground.
Some of them seemed to be flat on the top, but others stuck up like daggers.
“One of these is supposed to look like a ship…” Gothorik reminded Aralian. “I don’t see any though.”
Aralian looked around, careful not to miss any of the ones they passed. They seemed to get taller as he and Gothorik walked, casting massive shadows over the field. Most of them were over a hundred feet tall.
They walked for an hour or so until Gothorik said, “We’ve been walking for almost four miles I bet. Do you think w might have missed it?”
“I don’t think so…” said Aralian. “I’ve looked at every one of them since we’ve been out here, none of them looked like a ship.”
“Ee-zhar said, ‘on the other side of the Fangs’, but he didn’t tell us how far. It could be miles away!” Gothorik threw his hands in the air. “Hey! There’s one that kind of looks like a ship, like on of those big ships that go on the sea. I saw some pictures of them when I was younger.” Gothorik pointed to a formation to the left of the road.
Aralian had never seen a ship in real life before, but he had seen pictures of them too, probably in the same book Gothorik had seen in the Canthsville bookshop. The large mast in the middle with large white sails on attached to them with ropes.
Aralian looked at the sandstone formation that Gothorik was pointing at. Yes! It did look like a ship.
“You’re right Gothorik!” said Aralian. “That really looks like a ship… now where does that messenger live?”
Aralian searched for some sort of structure like a hut or something, but there were none to be found. A few scraggly trees grew around the base of the formation. It appeared that there was a no way up the formation, most of sides were smooth, and there was no granite mixed in with it.
They walked closer and Aralian ran his hand over the rough surface of the formation that towered over them. The air was dry there, and dusty.
“Do you see it?” asked Aralian.
“No, nothing…” Gothorik looked around. “Hey, let’s go around this thing and see what’s on the other side. Come on.”
They began walking around it. When they came to the other side, Aralian put his hand up to cover the sun, which had just become visible.
There was a cave on that side of the formation. It was very small and close to the ground.
“Here! Look…” said Aralian. “A small cave.”
“Let’s take a look inside,” said Gothorik. “Maybe that’s where the messenger lives.”
“Inside that tiny cave?” asked Aralian doubtfully. For the cave seemed much too small to be very big on the inside.
Gothorik merely shrugged and walked past Aralian to the cave’s mouth. When he looked inside, he smiled and said, “Look, a door. I told you there could be something there.”
Aralian looked in too. Sure enough, there was a wooden door right inside the cave. The door had a keyhole on it and a small black doorknob. It looked very old, with many dents and scratches in it.
“Should I knock?” asked Aralian.
Gothorik was about to say ‘yes’, when someone else spoke.
“No need to knock!” The voice came from above their heads.
They looked up and saw a man standing up on what seemed to be a large ledge on the sandstone formation. It was about twenty feet above the door.
The man held a bow in his hands and had it pointing at Aralian, then Gothorik, then back to Aralian, and so on.
Most of his black hair hung in front of his face, and he had very tanned skin. By the look of it, he seemed to be young, but older than Aralian.
“What are you doing here?” the man demanded. “I don’t know you two!”
Aralian stood back so that he could get a full view of the man and said, “I am Aralian, and this is Gothorik! We are friends of Ee-zhar. He sent us to tell a messenger about something. Are you a messenger?”
The man lowered his bow. “One moment!” he said, and disappeared as he walked away from the ledge.
Seconds later, the wooden door opened to reveal the man, and a small, low-ceilinged room that seemed to be carved out of the stone.
“Come in, come in!” said the man. “My name it Qured.”
Qured was a very handsome man. He walked further into the small room and cleared off the table in the middle.
“Please, sit,” said Qured, pointing to two chairs.
Aralian and Gothorik sat. Aralian looked around the room; all the walls and the floor were of sandstone. There was a bookshelf with a few books and other various items on it including the bow Qured had just been pointing at them.
“Any friend of Ee-zhar is a friend of mine!” said Qured. “One moment.”
Qured turned his back to them and began putting the items that had been on the table on the bookshelf.
While Qured did this, Aralian told him about threat of the Rastakeis and how Ee-zhar was planning to take the Shadow Army to Ogsdinra and fight there.
Then Qured turned around again and said, “So, what did you need to tell me? What did Ee-zhar say?”
Aralian stared for a moment, and so did Gothorik.
“I just told you everything!” said Aralian. “Weren’t you listening at all?”
Qured’s eyes widened. “Oh! Forgive me! I did not tell you! I cannot hear anything you say. In fact I can’t hear anything at all… I am deaf.”
Aralian swallowed. “I’m sorry… that’s awful.”
“How do you know what we’re saying then?” asked Gothorik.
Qured smiled. “I read your lips. The way you move your mouth, I can see what you’re saying, instead of hearing it. I have to be looking at your mouth for it to work though. I’m so sorry, please tell me it again.”
“Oh, it’s alright,” said Aralian. “I don’t blame you. Of course I’ll tell you again.” Aralian repeated what he had said, the same way as before.
Qured watched his lips move and nodded to what Aralian said. When Aralian was done talking, he said, “My… I didn’t think the war would start so soon. Are there enough people in the Shadow Army? Are we really going to be able to make a difference?”
“I don’t know,” said Aralian. “Ee-zhar said there’s around one thousand people in it. That doesn’t seem like very many does it?”
“No,” said Qured. “It isn’t very many, but most of the people in the Shadow Army are highly trained fighters, who can take on several enemies at once during battle. I think it makes a good army… good enough to do some difference.”
“Are you in the shadow army, Qured?” asked Gothorik.
Qured smiled and turned to Gothorik. “Oh yes!  It is my way of life. I was one of the first people to join actually! Though… I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to go to war.” He looked at the floor and sighed, then looked back at Aralian and Gothorik so he wouldn’t miss them talking.
Aralian thought for a moment. “I’m sorry. You must want to fight very much…”
“Yes,” said Qured, “but how will I hear someone in back of me? Or hear someone yell for help? Or the twang of a bowstring?”
“You speak about hearing as if you haven’t been deaf all you life, and you pronounce words very well too,” Aralian said.
“I noticed that too,” said Gothorik.
Qured nodded. “That’s true, I haven’t been deaf forever. When I was five- no, probably six, I came down with this hell of an earache. It lasted for a month, and when the pain left, so did my hearing… all of it.
“Oh I miss being able to hear… I always loved listening to the little minsu birds chirp in the trees. They had this beautiful song:” Then Qured whistled a beautiful melody. It sounded just like a young minsu bird.
Aralian was in awe. Qured had remembered that tune all those years, and he still could whistle it so well.
Qured looked at Aralian in the eyes. “It was nice meeting you!” he shook his hand. “And you Gothorik!”
“You too” said Aralian.
“Now I must go run that message!” said Qured.
So they said their farewell to Qured and left. Qured led them out of his house and locked the door behind them and him, putting his bow and arrows on his back and with a small wave, heading off on the eastern rode.
Aralian and Gothorik began walking back to the lumber camp. They didn’t make it back until the sun had sunk far past the horizon, so they laid down as soon as they got there, with only three people in their tent.
Right before Aralian fell asleep, he realized it had been a cycle lately. For every friend gained, that meant there was another friend to worry about. Ee-zhar, Jeiuhb, Ré, Gorgavhm, and Qured were all friends gained. But Jock had died almost right away when he met him.
Also, for every enemy gained, that meant there was another enemy to worry about. The Rastakeis, Boneskerals, and Diamondus were all enemies. But Thore had died almost right away.
Aralian was just happy he could think of more friends than enemies at that moment.










~XVII~
Uninvited
-------------

It was early morning. The sun had not begun to shine over the lumber camp yet. It was silent as could be, and very still.
Only one thing moved throughout the camp, unseen by any living soul.
It fluttered quickly over to the next tent; it’s wings whipping the air. Slowly, carefully, it peered around the edge of the white tent. No one there….
That didn’t please the creature though, for it was looking for someone. It needed information.
Its small mind was stuck on these few things: find him, learn about him, go back, tell about him. Or more simply: find, spy, leave, report.
Nothing could interfere with those four things. Anyone or anything that did was disposed of or removed in any and every way possible.
But he had to be careful, the person it was looking for was supposed to be a great man, or so he had heard. This man was said to be tall, seven feet in height, with a six-foot long sword that could drive through man, and horse, and earth alike, splitting the very ground in two. His eyes blazed with fire, his black hair seemed to be on fire too. His hands could crush any regular man’s head as it were an egg.
Though all these things seemed quite terrifying and great, the creature was not so sure he believed everything he had heard others of his kind say… perhaps they had only been fooling him because he was a younger one.
In any case, he didn’t quite like the weather there either. It was not as he was accustomed to; it was much too cold.
Well, at least he knew the man’s name; that alone could give him great leverage against the enemy and for getting to know what he needed to know.
The creature was a spy, spying was his life, and that was what he and all his kind were made for…
















~XVIII~
Departure
-------------

Early that morning Aralian woke up to the sound of the tent’s door opening.
He sat up on his cot and rubbed his eyes. Gothorik was in his cot, but Vialk was gone. Ee-zhar had just come in the tent.
“Ee-zhar?” asked Aralian. “What are you doing here this early?”
By now Gothorik was up too, and was rubbing his eyes to look at Ee-zhar more clearly.
“We’ve got to leave, today, as soon as possible,” Ee-zhar said. He kicked Aralian’s bag. “Start throwing you things in here! Now, on your feet!”
Aralian practically fell out of bed and began throwing his few things into the bag.
“You too, Gothorik! Come on. Get up…” he picked up Gothorik’s bag and threw it at him. It landed on his head.
“Alright…” Gothorik pulled the bag off his head and began packing too.
“Why are we leaving so soon?” asked Aralian, as he reached under his cot for his poleaxe.
“Soon? You think this is soon?” asked Ee-zhar. “I haven’t slept all night! I’ve been regrouping the army! We should have left hours ago!” He handed Aralian his books.
“Oh… I understand,” said Aralian.
“Is the whole army together now?” asked Gothorik.
“Oh no, that would be impossible!” exclaimed Ee-zhar. “We are too spread out. But I did get a large enough number of them together overnight. The rest of them are on their way to Ogsdinra without us, or haven’t even heard the news yet. Either way, once they do hear it, they’ll be on their way very quickly.”
“Good, then we’ll group together in Ogsdinra?” asked Aralian.
“No! Not Ogsdinra… we’re going to Hellgäré! Straight to the enemy’s own gates!” said Ee-zhar excitedly.
“Hellgäré?” Aralian and Gothorik asked at the same time.
“Yes. That’s what I said,” said Ee-zhar. “Now hurry up and let’s get out of this camp before they try to put you to work.”

Minutes later, Aralian, Gothorik, and Ee-zhar walked straight out of the lumber camp, and out onto the main road.
“I’m glad no one stopped us on our way out,” said Ee-zhar. “We would’ve had to talk the whole thing over with them, and tell them we’re not going to work here anymore.”
“You didn’t work here, Ee-zhar!” Aralian said as he pulled his bag onto his shoulders.
“Well then,” Ee-zhar said, shrugging, “I speak for you two. And I used to work there anyway.”
“Why’d you stop then?” asked Gothorik.
Ee-zhar straightened out his bandanna. “Just had too much stuff on my hands I guess. Enough to worry about without having to do lumberjacking too.”
Gothorik nodded.
Aralian took one last backward glance at the logging camp. So much had happened since he had last walked there, that it almost seemed like the whole thing had been a dream.
He had never expected to join any sort of army, in fact that was what he had just gotten away from. He had had no idea about the tremors of war going on right under his nose. Everything he had learned so far about the dangers, and history in the making going in his day and age he owed to Haili, and especially Ee-zhar.
“Well, here we are…” said Ee-zhar.
“Where are we?” asked Aralian, looking around. Gothorik looked around too. They had just left the camp, could they be at Hellgäré already?
“This is the world!” Ee-zhar said, coming to a stop and spreading his arms out as if to give the world a hug. “Here you will live, sleep, eat, kill, love, have the ones you love die, and then, if all goes according to nature, you will die!”
Aralian began walking again. He didn’t want to stop and think about what Ee-zhar had just said. He tried not to admit it to himself, but he knew that it had frozen up every last bit of warmth he had just felt in his heart. What he had said was so true, yet so hauntingly alien.
“Good thing I don’t love anyone!” said Gothorik, half-joking, half believing what he said.
Ee-zhar sighed as the three of them walked. He shook his head. “Wait until people start dying, then you’ll see how much you love them. Then you will see how much you miss them…”
Aralian watched as Gothorik got a far-away look in his eyes. “Did you ever read ‘Fallhavm and Feiratox’, Ee-zhar?”
Ee-zhar nodded. “It’s one of my very favorite writings.”
“Me too,” said Gothorik.
Aralian remembered those writings Gothorik had read to him. The sad tale of a man who had lost the only one he could love, and then killed himself by jumping off a cliff.
“It’s so sad,” said Aralian, “How can you possibly like it?”
“Because sadness is one of the biggest parts of life!” said Ee-zhar. “And I can relate to Fallhavm. People always like when they can relate to others.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Aralian. “How long ago?”
Ee-zhar frowned and looked at the sky. “Well… someone killed her around twenty years ago. I don’t know why… but I’m guessing it was because that person wanted her a lot, and she loved me instead…”
Gothorik breathed deeply. “How terrible…” he said. “Well I’m very glad you didn’t end up like Fallhavm. At least you’re doing something worthwhile now.”
“Yes,” said Ee-zhar. “My common sense told me not to waist time crying about it, or even worrying about my own life. I need to help others, not myself. I am a servant now, not a leader.”
“But you are a leader!” said Aralian.
“Not by my own want,” said Ee-zhar. “I wouldn’t have taken this job as a leader if I had had the choice.”
“Really?” asked Aralian.
“Oh yes… Aralian, it will happen all the time to you. I know it. You’ll get stuck with jobs you never asked for.
“You too Gothorik. But I see the spirit of a leader in Aralian…”
“A lot of people seem to say stuff like that about me,” said Aralian.
“Don’t take it lightly then,” said Ee-zhar. “That’s means something.”
They walked for a while longer. The path went along the Warvin River. It would take them straight to Ogsdinra.
The path went past a few more small wooded areas. But there were many fields and shrubs now. The ground was black dirt here, compared to the sandy ground near The Fangs.
But there were no houses, or any signs of people anywhere. No cultivated fields or trees, nothing except for the path.
“Where exactly are we headed to?” asked Aralian when they had walked for about an hour.
“Funny thing you asked right then, because you’re about to see,” said Ee-zhar.
Aralian looked up the path. There, not eighty yards ahead, was a large crowd of people. They seemed to be sitting and standing right on the grassy path and on the side of it in a small field.
“Is that the Shadow Army?” Aralian exclaimed.
“Yes it is….” said Ee-zhar proudly. “This mass of people stretches from here to about another hundred yards down the path. They’ll wait here until the sun reaches the three-quarter sky, and then we’ll be on our way.”
“What are they waiting for?” asked Gothorik.
“The rest of the Shadow Army,” Ee-zhar said. “There are a few slackers, or people who are far away who need time to catch up. But we can’t give them too much time…”
They walked up to the edge of the large mass of people, the Shadow Army. At once, all the people who could see him gave short bows in respect of Ee-zhar.
A few men came up to shake Ee-zhar’s hand. Others greeted Aralian and Gothorik.
Aralian examined the people of the Shadow Army. There were old and young men, and a very, very small amount of women.
Everyone had a bag of things with them. Some people were rubbing beeswax on their armor to keep it from rusting. Others sat around talking. But most of them either sharpened weapons, or just sat, or slept.
The people’s weapons and armor seemed to all be custom made, with names and pictures carved into their shiny blades.
No body really cared what other people did. They just sat around, waiting for the time when they would all leave and begin walking to Ogsdinra.
There were no tents, people who slept just laid their heads on their packs and fell asleep.
Ee-zhar walked up to Aralian and Gothorik who were still standing and staring at the army.
“Well, here we are now. We’ll just have to wait until after mid-day,” said Ee-zhar. “Sit down! You’re acting like strangers.”
Gothorik shrugged, and they both sat down. Aralian found a tree that he could sit up against. It was a very small tree, with its leaves turning brown. He closed his eyes and thought about what would happen in the oncoming days.
Nothing like what’s ever happened to me before, what’s for sure! I’ll need some armor, like the kind I trained with in the Dex Balix Army. I wonder if I have enough money for it? Probably not… I must only have seventy or sixty harks left.
After a while, with the drone of talk and the smell of beeswax made Aralian fall into a troubled sleep…




~XIX~
Remembrance of Kuniga
-------------------------------

Where am I? Aralian asked himself.
He stood above a large maze… some sort of immense labyrinth. His vision shifted, and he stood at the beginning of the maze, a golden archway.
It was dark, very dark. The maze’s walls were hundreds of feet tall and covered in sharp shards of glass and metal.
It was outdoors. The ground was black and gray dirt. The single light source was an ominous glowing orange moon. The horizon seemed to be thousands of miles away, but he couldn’t tell because all the ground was the same.
What is this place? He wondered.
Then a man walked up. He carried a beautifully made war hammer that was carved with a blue and red moon. The back of the war hammer was a bunch of spikes that made it look like it was blowing away in the wind.
The man wore a suit of armor, its helmet had large curved horns on it. He wore a skirt of metal links covered with leather strips bolted together.
He walked up to the beginning of the maze and kneeled down on one knee, putting his war hammer on the ground.
From the distance a few more forms appeared on the horizon. They got closer and Aralian saw what they looked like.
The first visible one was a very pretty woman. She had brownish-blond curly hair. She wasn’t very tall.
In her hands she held a yellow triangle-shaped crystal.
Then a man came along. He was a tall man, with dark brown hair and black eyes. He looked drained of all happiness, with dark circles under his eyes.
He held a black triangle-shaped crystal in one hand.
The next person was another man, strong looking and sweaty. He had darker blond hair, and high-set eyes. He looked worried.
In his left hand he held a green triangle-shaped crystal.
Then came another woman. She had black hair, and green eyes. She was also very beautiful. She along with the other woman wore long flowing dresses that dragged on the ground as they walked towards where the first man stood.
She carried also carried a red triangle-shaped crystal in her hand.
The second and third men had a fourth man between them. They helped him walk along until they got to where the first man stood.
The fourth man had very dark brown hair. His eyes were black and cold, as if they had no love in them. His hair hung down by his face, all sweaty and matted with blood.
He was very handsome. The most handsome of all the men there, but still, these people were some of the best-looking people Aralian had ever seen.
The fourth man was all cut up on his chest and arms. He wore nothing on his feet. His shirt seemed to have been torn off somehow.
There was one more man who came running up to the bunch of people at the beginning of the maze.
He had a gash in his forehead under a mass of long reddish hair that had been tied in the back of his head. He had dark, very defined eyebrows.
He carried a purple crystal in his hand.
Everyone here looked very young, around twenty or thirty years of age.
These seven people walked to the front of the maze, where the first man still kneeled.
The first man stood up and said in a deep, calming voice, “What now my dearest friends?”
The two men threw the fourth man onto the hard ground where he struggled to get on his feet. But he just collapsed and coughed up blood.
The fist woman - the blond one - looked at the first man. “Are you truly going to stay here and watch the labyrinth, Kuniga?” she asked tearfully.
“Be strong my love, it is what I must do,” said the first man, Kuniga.
“Can’t someone else do it?” asked the first woman.
“Belle,” said Kuniga, “I am the one. No one else is fit for this task.” He took off his helmet. “You know that I love you?”
“Yes, Kuniga.” Belle began to cry into her hands.
Kuniga held her close to him and kissed her once. “Listen to me… this will end some day in the future. If not by us, then by another.”
The others nodded.
The second man asked, “Will you take him in? Here is the map of the maze.”
“Thank you Seethe,” said Kuniga. “I will take him in. He will not regain his strength for ages now.”
Seethe stood back and watched the pitiful form of the man they had just been helping walk struggle for breath on the ground as he choked on his own blood.
Everyone there seemed to look on that man with disgust. They hated him for some reason.
Kuniga let go of Belle and said, “Everyone, put in your pieces now!”
Each person, besides the man on the ground, took their triangle-shaped crystal and put it in a circular hole above the archway. Even Kuniga had a crystal. His was light blue, the color of the sky.
When they had all fitted their pieces in the hole, it made a perfect circle of six triangle crystals.
“Here we have come today, to rid our race of this evil creature!” said Kuniga, pointing at the fourth man. “I, Kuniga, pledge to keep this evil man in this labyrinth and all he creates in it too.”
Seethe spoke. “I, Seethe, pledge to keep this a secret.”
The third man spoke. “I, Itarm, also agree to keep this a secret and destroy evils that I find in our world.”
The fifth man spoke. “I, Nagra, will keep the Barrows of the Greats from getting old, and keep the Tower of the Slain from becoming a ruin. I also agree to keep this a secret.”
Belle spoke. “I, Belle, will find where others are, and discover new races of people that are somewhat like us. I will keep this a secret.” She choked back tears.
Finally, the second woman spoke. “I, Roxanne, will keep this a secret. I will also go and find new races like ours.”
Kuniga nodded. “Good, now we may part in peace. And I pray you my beloved friends, do not forget me down here.”
And with those parting words, Kuniga grabbed the man on the ground and walked into the maze.
The rest of the five people headed out to wherever they were going, and Aralian woke up with a start…























~XX~
The First March
---------------------

Aralian shook his head. What was that? his mind exclaimed as soon as he was conscious.
What a strange dream! So vivid! Like… like that other dream I had the night before the Harvest Festival! This was a vision?
He knew that this was no regular dream, so quickly he wrote it down on the paper he had taken with. It came to him like a story he knew very well, like he was supposed to know this.
But is it a vision, or a sight of the past? Aralian asked himself. He wasn’t sure… but it seemed to be of the past. He didn’t know why he thought that, but it just seemed right for some reason.
He looked at the mass of people. They seemed to be getting ready to leave. Picking up their bags and tightening their belts.
Gothorik walked up to Aralian. “There you are!” he said. “Come on! Get up. We’ve got to be on our feet and ready to move by the time Ee-zhar blows the horn.”
Aralian looked at the sun. It was at the three-quarter sky. He got up and walked over with Gothorik to the path.
They waited together for a few minutes. Aralian kicked at a small patch of dirt.
“Quite the army, huh?” asked Gothorik.
“It sure is. All these people look like they know what they’re doing,” said Aralian, looking around.
“I wonder if we’ll live to see past this battle, Aralian,” Gothorik said.
Aralian didn’t want to think of it, but maybe he just wasn’t all he was said to be. ‘Strong spirited’, ‘talented in fighting’, among others he had been called in the last month, but could it just have been chance?
He wasn’t too sure about it though, for the dream he had just had was still on his mind.
Why me? he asked himself. He didn’t know the answer, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It might just get him into more trouble than he wanted to be.
“Maybe you’re right…” said Aralian. “It seems a lot of people die in battles, or so I’ve heard.”
“Maybe we’re being tricked…” said Gothorik. “What if this whole thing is just one big lie, part of a bigger picture?”
“Then we’re in for a big surprise and a bad end,” Aralian said. “I’ll have to see it for myself.”
“See what?”
“Hellgäré, and the man, whatever his name is,” said Aralian.
“You mean Diamondus?” asked Gothorik. “Something tells me I wont like him…”
“Me too,” said Aralian. “Did you ever get that weird feeling when you say his name? Like it’s an evil name?”
“It is an evil name, Aralian. Just something about it makes me want to collapse on the ground and die.”
“Well, something like that,” said Aralian, laughing.
Just then, a loud horn blew. The large crowd of people picked up their bags and began walking. The sound was like a loud, crunch, crunch, crunch. Boots crushing pebbles together.
It wasn’t an annoying sound though, it made Aralian feel happy to know that there were enough people in this army to make such a noise.
He breathed in the air. It was a beautiful day, so peaceful and calm. The wind had died down from the morning, and the birds sang in the trees. According to Ee-zhar, it would take them five days to reach Hellgäré. That seemed like a long time.
Would there be that much time before the Rastakeis attacked Ogsdinra. Aralian liked to think so. He didn’t want to have to help Ogsdinra win back any lost land.
And so, the Shadow Army marched for the first time ever. Not an organized march, but a march with a purpose, all headed for their first fight ever. They didn’t know if they would survive it or die, but they all imagined themselves surviving.
Some of the people were very young, having only just left home to fight with Ee-zhar.
Aralian knew that somewhere in this large crowd of people were Ré, Jeiuhb, Haili and Gorgavhm. Probably Demaluxvian and Darhoth too.
Not Jock though, he never had a chance to even fight in battle.

Hours passed, and the people of the Shadow Army were getting tired of walking. It had been a long time since Aralian had eaten, and he felt his stomach grumbling.
Aralian heard Ee-zhar’s horn blow, and everyone stopped for the day. The sun was very low in the sky, and it cast an orange glow over the grassy land.
Trees were very scarce here. Mostly grasses and bushes. He could see the Warvin River a small distance off, where willows hung over it. The soft noise of the river drew him closer. He lied down by the sandy edge and looked up at the stars that had amassed in the sky, like a giant celestial army, all headed towards the moon…. Yes Gothorik had been right. There were more stars near the moon.
Breathing in the early winter air, Aralian found himself drifting into an uneasy sleep. He tossed around on the ground, clutching the handle of his poleaxe as he slept.
Then he woke up. Not on his own though… something had made noise in the bushes nearby.
He slowly raised his head. Looking out from behind the overhanging willow so as to look at the bushes that separated him from the Shadow Army.
Something - or someone - was in there. Then he heard it again. Rustling from the bushes behind him. Then from the ones behind the bushes again.
He was surrounded. He picked up his poleaxe and got ready for a fight. Nothing could defeat him. Not some rustling in the bushes, not anything!
Then a squirrel bounded out into the moonlight from inside the bushes. It ran past Aralian and up the large willow, disappearing into a small hole in its trunk.
Aralian frowned and let his arms go limp, dropping his poleaxe beside him. He felt stupid, even though he was the only one who had seen that little incident.
Sitting down he got into a comfortable position again, and dosed off, half awake, half sleeping.
How could I be so stupid? He though to himself. The Shadow Army is only a few yards away and I’m shaking in my boots because of a squirrel in the bushes? I’ve got to stop being such a coward and-
A calm sensation came over Aralian as a scratchy bag was thrown over his head. He began to struggle but the calm sensation took control of his whole body.
His eyes rolled back and his head fell loosely onto someone’s s arm. He tried desperately not to fall asleep, but dreamland called him like a good smell, casting him into a forced sleep.





















~XXI~
The Midian Stronghold
-----------------------------

Cold was the first thing Aralian felt. Then Hunger. Then fear, panic, and confusion.
Where am I? Aralian asked himself. He moved around a bit, trying to free himself of the rope bonds that held him in a reclining position.
It felt like he was strapped to a block of wood.
When he found he couldn’t open his eyes, he panicked again, and began thrashing around on the wooden structure he was on.
He thrashed this way and that, trying to free himself from the bonds, but in only resulted in him tiring himself out.
That was when he realized he had no clothes on except for his pants. No shirt, no boots, and no stockings. It seemed like a strange dream, except all too real.
Aralian tried to think back on what had happened, but the past seemed like a foggy haze.
He struggled again, this time heaving himself up and down to try and loose the knots that held him to the wood.
Then he hard the sound of a door opening and shutting, close by.
“Stop! You’re only hurting yourself by moving around like that!” said a young female voice. She sounded to be in her late teens.
“W- who are you?” Aralian shouted. It was hard to speak, his throat felt swelled up and numb.
The person didn’t answer. Aralian heard her footsteps drawing nearer. He stopped heaving his body.
“Listen, it is of no matter right now why you are here or who I am. Keep still, quiet and don’t hurt yourself more than you already are,” said the girl. Her voice was cool and calming, like water.
“Alright,” said Aralian.
“Good,” said the girl. “I can release your bonds if you promise not to thrash around like you were doing before.”
“I- I’m sorry,” said Aralian. “I was frightened.”
“I don’t blame you,” said the girl, loosing his bonds.
“You say I’m already hurt?” asked Aralian.
“Yes.”
“But I don’t feel any pain at all,” he said, trying not to jump up as the roped were taken off him. But his eyes were still shut tight, so he stayed put.
“It’s alright. You had a bag thrown over your head that was filled with mankua flower pollen. It knocked you out. Then you were slashed in the chest with a saber.
“We saved you, and gave you pain reliever and quick healing medicine.”
“Why?” asked Aralian, covering all his questions with one simple word, and hoping the girl would answer him.
“Shhhh…. Relax, this might tingle,” said the girl.
Aralian felt smooth hands tracing a large indentation across his ribcage. He knew that was where the saber had slashed him, but tried not to think about it.
The girl’s hands left him for a moment, and came back with an oily-feeling substance in his wound.
Aralian shuddered as a strange tingling, almost painful feeling came over his whole body. There was no way he could have relaxed when that happened. He jumped up and grabbed the girl by her thin wrists.
“Ugh! Let go of me!” she shouted.
His eyes would not open, they seemed glued shut. But still he didn’t let go of the girl’s wrists.
The last thing he remembered before falling asleep again, was the sharp whack of knee-hitting-forehead.

Again Aralian woke up. He was tied down, still on the wooden structure. He didn’t know how much time had gone by, and he didn’t really care either. All he wanted to know was, who was that girl and why was he there?
He shook his head, trying to get the hair away from his face so it would stop tickling his nose.
“You’re awake…” said the calming voice of the girl.
Aralian froze.
“By the way, your eyes will open now,” she said.
“Oh… thanks.” Aralian slowly opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. Nothing made sense for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight.
“I guess I can take those off now,” said the girl.
Aralian saw the form of a body come beside him and begin to untie the uncomfortable ropes.
She helped Aralian into a sitting position on the wooden structure. He got his first good look at her, and was stunned by it. She was the most beautiful girl Aralian had seen in his life.
I’m dead. He thought. I’m dead and this is Valhalla, here before me is a Valkyrie.
His imagination was short lived however, when the girl set a bowl of steaming soup beside him.
We don’t eat soup in Valhalla….
Aralian blinked a few times and looked around the room. It was cutout sandstone, like Qured’s house. There were many candles in lanterns on the walls to light it.
It was very small, about only as big as the inside of his tent at the lumber camp. The wooden table-like structure he lay on was against the far wall from the black door. A table with what looked like medicines on it stood in one corner of the room, and in the other corner was a wooden chair.
“They wouldn’t tell me what your name is, I don’t even think they know,” said the girl, “so can you tell me?”
“Aralian,” he said, already eating the soup she had given him. It was good, and he was hungry, so in a matter of seconds he had downed the entire bowl.
“Aralian….” repeated the girl. “Well I’m Rheia.”
Aralian rolled his eyes and breathed heavily. “Yeah, Rheia… I don’t care what your name is. Tell me why I’m here.” He had meant to sound rude, so that Rheia might just tell him quickly.
But Rheia looked hurt, and turned her back on him. She walked over to the chair and stood in front of it.
“I’m sorry, I’m just confused right now….” said Aralian. “How did I get here? The last thing I remember was…”
His words trailed off as some of the past returned to him. Someone had captured him. He had heard rustling in the bushes and then had a bag put over his head…. But he had gotten back his senses, and then looked around, it was nighttime. There were people, and then… pain! Lots and lots of it on his chest. He had been slashed by someone’s arm… but that was impossible….
“Rheia,” asked Aralian, “how was I slashed on the chest by someone’s arm?”
Rheia turned around, pushing past-shoulder-length brown hair out of her eyes. “I don’t understand, I wasn’t there when they saved you.”
“Oh… well when can I speak to someone who has answers?” asked Aralian.
Rheia walked closer to him, “I’ll go find out. Don’t get up or get out of this room, understand?”
Aralian nodded.
Rheia left the room and shut the door behind her.
As soon as she was out of sight, Aralian threw his legs over the side of the wooden table and sat up straight.
Jumping off the table, he stood up, putting his hand against the wall for support. He felt uncontrollably dizzy, and began to stagger forward.
Where am I? Why can’t I remember anything about myself! Nothing else came to mind except for a few fragments of memory. Faces, and pictures of buildings and tents, none of which made the least bit of sense to him.
I can remember my age, and my name, I know I can fight with a poleaxe… but that’s almost all….
He fell forward, his eyes clouded and his fingers and toes tingled. Falling on the ground, he stopped himself from hitting his face with his hands.
A few minutes went by, and Rheia returned to find Aralian still on the ground.
“What are you doing there?” she asked. “I told you not to get up!” She grabbed his upper arm and helped him up. Here, wear these.” She thrust black and white clothes into his arms.
There was a black vest, pants, sleeves, boots, and stockings. The clothes were soft and warmer than any other clothes Aralian had ever worn. They had white trimming and designs on them.
When Rheia came back in the room, Aralian asked, “What are these? Why can’t I wear my old clothes?”
“What? You want to wear your old clothes?” she asked. “Because I can give those scratchy things back if you want.”
“No, I-,” stuttered Aralian. “Never mind.”
“Alright,” said Rheia. “Now that you are presentable to our leader, you can come with me.”
She helped him walk so that he wouldn’t fall over again. Out of the room and down a narrow hall. All of the walls were sandstone, they must have been very far underground, or in a very large formation.
Up a flight of carpeted stairs and left along a tunnel. Past many black doors, which all looked the same to Aralian. They ascended many more times, and passed what seemed like a library and a room with windows, but he couldn’t see out of them.
After a while he stopped paying attention to his surroundings and took to looking at Rheia. Her dark brown hair glistening in the torchlight. Her hazel eyes watched the floor as they made their way through the halls.
Aralian couldn’t pull his eyes away from her face, even though he wasn’t really paying attention to what he was looking at.
She had fairish skin, and a larger lower lip. She seemed pensive, as if thinking about something important. Her solemn expression just made her look even more beautiful.
She wore a brown and white dress. It wasn’t very fancy, but still looked elegant.
Just as Aralian noticed she was also barefoot, she looked at him and stopped walking.
They were at the end of a wide hall, with a dark red double door at the end. Two guards, wearing similar outfits of black and white and red, held spears in front of the door. They wore light armor, only on their shoulders, elbows and shins. A black and white vest was worn over a chain mail shirt-skirt. On the vest was a dark red compass, with a black dragon with a cross on its back. The N, for north, was the only letter on the compass, and it stood out very well.
Aralian admitted that they looked quite impressive.
“Listen,” said Rheia, “the man you are about to meet is our ruler. You will bow down when you come into his presence. Answer all of his questions truthfully, he is highly trained in lie-picking. You won’t get around him easily.”
“I’m a good enough liar,” joked Aralian.
Rheia glared. “Enough joking around like a five-year-old,” she said sternly. “You’d better be wiser than that if you want to last around here. Our leader is a good man and he doesn’t let stupidity throw his rightfulness as a leader to the crows.” Rheia frowned and looked Aralian right in the eyes as she said.
“I’m sorry,” said Aralian. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
“Don’t worry, cheer up. You’re in the hands of the most organized and ancient nation in Midgard.”
Rheia pushed open the door and allowed Aralian to walk in, but she stayed behind.
The room behind the door had a very high ceiling. The floor was carpeted with red carpet, and a chandelier hang from the ceiling, covered in white candles. There were many more guards in this room, all along the walls on either side.
Pillars came down in two rows in the room, casting shadows from the light coming through many narrow windows. At the end of the long room was someone sitting on a large, stone, cushioned throne.
The man who sat on the throne was middle aged. He wore a golden crown that was not very large or ornate. His black eyes stared at Aralian as he walked in.
At once Aralian felt the intimidating presence of authority. He bowed low to the ground and waiting for the man to say something.
“Stand,” ordered the man. “State your name and age.”
Aralian stood and advanced forward a few steps. “My name is, Aralian, and I am nineteen years of-"
“Aralian?” asked the man. “The Aralian?” He leaned forward in his seat.
“I don’t think so…” said Aralian. “I’m nothing special… My surname is Halkave if that means anything to you.”
The man shook his head. “That’s alright. I am Augur, king of Drooganhut, son of Morgan.”
“Drooganhut?” asked Aralian. The name meant nothing to him. He had no idea where he was or where Drooganhut was. He didn’t even know which empire he belonged to.
“Yes, Drooganhut,” said Augur. “Does that name ring a bell at all?”
“No,” Aralian answered politely. He felt very confused. He couldn’t remember a thing, and that bothered him.
“Well, Aralian Halkave, where are you from? What do you do?” asked Augur. “My men saved you from a band of enemy troops. We think they captured you, but you were the only one there. It’s strange to me that they would only capture you and not anyone else…”
Aralian looked at the floor, straining himself to remember. “I don’t know where I’m from… I know I’m from somewhere I’m just not sure.”
Augur nodded. “I see…” he said, leaning his head forward. He clasped his hands together and breathed out.
“I’m sorry sir, it must have been the bad they put over my head,” said Aralian. “Rheia told me I was all drugged up.”
Augur looked over at one of the guard nearest him and pointed at him. “You were there when Aralian was found. Tell me what you saw.”
“Yes sir.” The guard was a young man, with a small well-trimmed beard. He stepped forward. “Your majesty, there were at least thirty people who had captured this man.” He pointed at Aralian. “Well, some of them were men, others were Rastakeis.”
Rastakeis… The word send Aralian an image of a gray, ugly, face, with orange eyes. It was an enemy, that as much as he could remember.
“Also,” said the guard, “There was another sighting of one of The Three.”
“Which one?” asked Augur, interested.
“Commander Jappa reckons it was Pramístro from the descriptions. He’s not hard to spot,” said the guard, smiling.
Augur chuckled and agreed. Then he turned to Aralian. “Does any of this make any sense to you?”
“Barely,” said Aralian. “I remember that Rastakeis are my enemy… and that’s pretty much all.”
“Well, that’s a relief!” said the king. “At least we’re on the same side, right?”
Aralian nodded.
“That’s all then?” asked Augur. “You can’t really remember a thing can you? Well… get situated as a true, proud, Drooganhut man and maybe after time you will recall your past.”
“Thank you sire,” said Aralian, bowing.
“Have, ah… Rheia bring you your things and help you get a proper haircut.
Aralian looked at his hair. It was shoulder length and black. Nothing seemed wrong with it, but he didn’t talk back.
He was about to turn around and leave, when he remembered something he had wanted to ask. “Sire, can I ask you something?” asked Aralian.
“Anything,” said Augur.
“I seem to remember someone slashing at my chest with their arm…” Aralian said. “But it wasn’t really their arm, it was like a blade.”
Augur frowned. For a moment Aralian thought he was mad at him, but then Augur said, “That was Pramístro.”
“Pramístro?” Aralian repeated.
“Yes,” said Augur. “We’ve been tracking him and his gang of evil thugs, Rastakeis, and any other people he picks up along the way for a long time now. He’s a trusted friend of the dictator of Samarodia.
“But instead of hands, he has blades, starting at where his elbow is.”
Aralian was taken aback. The thought of such a thing seemed almost evil in itself. Who, even if it was because of an accident, would put saber blades connected to their arms instead of a wooden arm with a hook hand?
But with one last bow and another brief ‘thank you’, Aralian turned around and went back out the door.
As soon as the door shut behind him, he heard a voice in back of him that made him jump. It was Rheia, standing with her arms crossed. “So, that bag over your head sure gave you quite a mind-crash didn’t it?”
Aralian laughed, “I guess. I feel like someone took all my memories and burned them…”
Rheia frowned and nodded. “That’s terrible. I hope your mind returns soon.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Aralian.
Rheia gave Aralian a little shove forward and began walking down the hall. “Come now, I was eavesdropping and I hear the king want to rid you of that ridiculous western hairstyle.”
Aralian raised his eyebrows and followed her. They walked through the halls until they came to a big black door. Rheia pushed it open and Aralian got his first look at the outside of what they had been in and the landscape.
The building was not really a building, it was a cliff side. Gray sandstone. There were window holes all over the side of the cliff, and a many platforms where people could stand or guard the building from.
“What exactly is this place?” asked Aralian.
“That’s the Midian Stronghold of the Inferno Pits in the land of Hellgäré,” said Rheia. “One of our many strongholds throughout the world.”
Aralian turned around and looked at the landscape. The sky was smoky, and heavily clouded. Rolling hills and great rugged cliffs scattered about the land held only small patches of green grass. The trees were almost leafless, and there was the smell of stone-against-stone sparks in the air.
It was also very warm there, which was strange considering it was the middle of November. That was another thing Aralian remembered, what month it was. Or, at least he thought is was November.
He had entirely forgotten what Hellgäré was. He had no idea how close they were to the main fortress of the enemy.
“Come,” said Rheia. She took him away from the cliff side stronghold and into a large patch of sickly-looking trees. There were just enough leaves on the old, gnarly trees to keep out the rest of the late-day sun.
A dim, gray lighting set a slightly eerie yet calming mood.
Aralian heard the faint trickling sound of a nearby creek in the direction they were headed. The path through the trees seemed well worn and frequently trodden upon. Rheia led the way through a small patch of prickly undergrowth and stopped by the edge of the creek.
“Dunk your messy head underwater so I can cut your hair,” said Rheia. She drew scissors and a shaving blade from her gown pouch.
Aralian went over to the mossy banks of the creek and knelt down. His new boots sank into the almost-black dirt.
Leaning over, he let his hair fall forward into the clear water. He made sure every strand got wet. Surprisingly, the water wasn’t as cold as he has expected it to be. It was lukewarm.
“Why is this water so warm?” he asked, shaking his head to get the extra water out of his hair.
Rheia laughed. “You don’t even know what the Inferno Pits are, do you?”
“I don’t really know anything,” said Aralian. “Not right now at least.”
“They are large caves and holes in the ground. A few of them are filled with bubbling magma, but they are mostly just very warm inside, with small tongues of flame sometimes lighting their insides.”
“You’ve been in them?” asked Aralian.
“Yes, quite a few times actually,” Rheia said proudly. “I’ve even been to the base of Tzmol-tek-er… but you probably don’t know what that is either.”
Aralian shook his head as he stood up.
“You might as well kneel down again,” said Rheia.
Aralian kneeled down.
Rheia took her scissors and began to cut away at Aralian’s hair. She cut off a lot at a time, and Aralian began to wonder if she was just going to make him bald.
As she cut, Rheia said, “Well, if you must know, Tzmol-tek-er is the main volcano of the Inferno Pits, also known as Ashtureth’s Stomach.”
“I see,” said Aralian, as a large clump of hair fell in front of his face, “so this land is called Ashtureth’s Stomach, or the Inferno Pits?”
“No, no. It has many names. Hellgäré’s Shadow, the Deadlands, the list goes on,” said Rheia. “But yes, those are the two main things people call it.”
Aralian tried to nod, but Rheia jerked his head back and continued cutting.
“How much of it are you cutting off?” asked Aralian.
“As much as it needs,” Rheia said smartly. “You’ve got a lot of hair that needs chopping.”
Aralian rolled his eyes and stopped talking. Then he felt her take the sharp shaving blade across the sides of his head, making the hair there very short.
Rheia went in front of him and tilted his head up. “Yes, now you look like a proper Drooganhut man.” She hesitated. “Except for those peculiar tattoos on the sides of your head…”
Aralian gasped. “What? What are you talking about? What tattoos?”
Rheia shrugged and said in a desperate attempt to calm him down, “Surely you know about them?”
“No!” shouted Aralian. “I- you’re not serious are you?”
Rheia raised her eyebrows. “Come see for yourself.” She walked at a fast pace back to the stronghold. They went back almost the same way to where Aralian had been kept. They took a left into a medium sized room.
The room had no far wall, just open air out to the side of the cliff where other cliffs were visible. The open wall let enough light into the room so that there was no need to light a candle. There was a bed on one the left side of thew room, and on the right side, a dresser with a mirror on top.
“Here,” said Rheia, “look in my mirror.”
Aralian ran over to the mirror and looked at his reflection. His hair had been shaved almost completely off on the sides, but on the top it was a little longer and had only been cut halfway in the back. But the things that caught his eye the most were the two tattoos on the sides of his head.
They were black, and they resembled two roses on either side of his head. The roses’ petals were red, and their stems were all knotted up and seemed to wrap all the way around his the back of his head.
“How did these get here?” asked Aralian. “Actually I’m not really asking you to answer that, I’m sure you don’t know,” said Aralian, touching the tattoos to make sure he wasn’t imagining them.
“Yeah, I don’t know,” said Rheia. “You mean you had no idea those were there?”
“No…” said Aralian. “Well, then again I may have just forgotten…”
Rheia nodded. “Yes, probably. Have any memories returned at all?”
“Just images and voices of people who I’m probably supposed to know.”
“Ah, I see.” Rheia walked over to her bed and knelt down at its foot.
With much difficulty, Aralian tore his eyes from the mirror and looked at what Rheia was doing. She removed something from under the bed. It was a small red box, no bigger than a fist. She opened it and walked over to Aralian.
From the box, Rheia took a small, glass vile.
“Here,” she handed it to him. “Drink a fifth of this every day. By the end of five days, the cut on your chest will probably have healed up quite well. It’s also a painkiller, you’ll need that for such a wound.”
Aralian took the vile of clear liquid. “Thank you,” he said. “Thanks for everything. I trust it was you who was been looking after me the last…”
“Almost three days,” said Rheia. “That’s why your room is so near mine. I had to constantly keep an eye on you, but you seem to be doing very well now.”
Aralian smiled. Then he felt a stab of pain in his chest. “How serious it this cut?”
“Not as bad as it could have been,” Rheia said looking at his shirt where that covered the cut. “It’s not much more than skin-deep. Come now, let me show you more of the stronghold.”
Aralian followed her out of her room and deeper into the cliff side. They now passed many people as they walked, Aralian made sure not to lose Rheia as she quickly made her way through the stronghold.
“Aralian,” said Rheia, “look here.”
Aralian looked to where she pointed, through an archway. There, the tunnel became a cavernous room, so large, it could fit a castle inside it. Both sides had houses on the walls, all carved directly out of the stone. Wooden ladders and stone stairs connected the houses together, so that the ones higher up on the wall could be easily accessed.
There was no ceiling to the cavern, only open sky, about a hundred feet up, so it was more like a pit than an actual cave.
“This is the town of Boraine,” said Rheia.
“Amazing,” said Aralian. “Where does all the water go when it rains?”
Rheia pointed at the tunnel they had just come through. “That way. The ground is tilted just a little bit, so that all the water is channeled out of the town and through the tunnel, and out of the stronghold.”
“You don’t want to be in the tunnel when it rains!” said Aralian.
“No, you want to be in town or in your room in the main part of the stronghold.” Rheia walked into the middle of the central part of town, which was an open plain of dry, black dirt and some short, brown grass.
The central field was about one hundred yards across, and two hundred yards to the far wall. The far wall was also houses, stores and other kinds of buildings. There were many people in the central field.
A large group of children were playing some sort of game with a black ball and a white ball.
“Those kids are playing pakchi ball,” said Rheia. “I used to play that with my brother and our friends when I was little.”
“I’ve never played it,” said Aralian, who was still admiring the colossal town hewn right out of the stone. He thought is amazing that the entire place was right there, unknown to any other people unless they climbed the cliff, walked hundreds of yards, and came upon this massive hole in the ground, filled with beautifully carved black stone houses.
“How do you know?” asked Rheia. “You don’t seem to sure about anything else!”
“Some of my childhood memories have returned,” said Aralian. “I was in a large open city, surrounded by a vast forest. There was a castle on a hill not far from the Town Square.”
“Hold on, that sounds a lot like the main city of Dex Wolx, or Dex Balix, of both,” said Rheia. “I’ve never been to either but I’ve heard about them.”
“Yes, I know those names,” said Aralian. “Very well in fact…” he shook his head. “So, how is pakchi ball played?”
Rheia pointed at the kids playing. “Well, each team tries to bring the other team’s ball out of the playing area. If they do, they gain a point. But they have to be holding the ball in their hands when it goes out of the area. If someone tags the person who’s holding the ball, they have to bring it back to the center of the playing square.”
“That’s interesting,” said Aralian. “I should play someone on that game sometime.”
Rheia laughed out loud. “It’s been far too long since any of us young-adults have had time for games like that! With the war and all there’s just too much to do around here…”
“I see,” said Aralian. “I’d be good to get your mind off the war for a while.”
Rheia looked at the ground and kicked at some back dirt with her bare feet. She sighed, “Everyone seems to uptight about everything now… I just don’t know what to do. I’m usually so much happier, but now everyone around me is serious and wary.”
“It seems like you military establishment around here isn’t second-hand,” said Aralian, pointing at a number of very youthful-looking men marching from the far wall, over to a tall staircase that reached up to the ground above.
“Oh, those are new recruits from our lands in Elmnera, Hajaa Marsh, Minar Oldag, and Greudo Valley,” said Rheia.
“…That’s a lot of land to own,” said Aralian.
Rheia nodded. “Yes, even though we’re so spread out, we’re more united than any other tribe or empire.”
“Ugh…” said Aralian. “I’m so sorry, but I’m so dazed I feel like a thoughtless, mindless shell with no brain. I probably already know all these things.”
Rheia raised her eyebrows and began walking. “Well I don’t think so. We’ve done a good job at keeping secretive.”















~XXII~
Late Day and Late Night
-------------------------------

The sun was very low in the sky when Aralian and Rheia reached the other side of the central field in Boraine. Sill amazed at the structure of the strange town, Aralian kept looking up at the stone houses.
“Hungry?” asked Rheia. “It’s dinner time in Boraine, that’s what you smell.”
“It’s food?” asked Aralian. “Where is that smell coming from?” Aralian swept his hand against the dark gray surface of one of the buildings they were standing by. He looked up, only to see more houses higher on the wall, and ladders and steps to get up there.
“Over here,” said Rheia. “This is the north eating room.”
“Eating room?” asked Aralian.
“Yes, depending on what side of the town you live on,” said Rheia, “you eat at its eating room. See, everyone has his or her own job to do around here. And when it’s time to eat, they come to here, or any of the other eating rooms.”
“And the cooks have their jobs too right?” asked Aralian.
“Yes, well… their jobs are cooking obviously!” said Rheia. “Come on, let’s go and eat. You don’t have a job to help around here, but they’ll let you eat anyway.”
Aralian followed Rheia up the stone stairs, above what seemed like someone’s house. But everything was connected, like wasp nest cells. It was a very interesting how a house was on top of another house, which had a store on top of it, and another house on top of that.
When they got higher up, there were stone walls for safety, so that people wouldn’t fall to the level below.
“How many levels are there?” asked Aralian.
“You mean upwards? There are ten levels,” said Rheia. “I know someone who lives on the tenth level, right at the top. He’s a cattle herder who tends to the cattle we keep at the top of the cliff mound.”
“So it’s a mound?” asked Aralian. “With cliffs of all sides?”
Rheia walked over to an open doorway and waited for Aralian to come up the stairs. “Yes,” she said.
They walked through the doorway together into a very large room. It had candles all along the ceiling, and rows of tables with benches. The food on the tables mainly consisted of beef, roasted potatoes, carrots, and onions. There were also pickled eggs, and pickled onions, and just plain pickles.
The room was quite crowded, with people all along the benches eating.
Aralian and Rheia sat down and began eating too. Aralian was very hungry. He ate and ate and couldn’t seem to satisfy his hunger, but after a while, he decided it was best if he didn’t eat to the point of explosion.
While he ate, Aralian asked Rheia, “So, tell me about yourself.”
Rheia swallowed. “Well, where should I begin?”
Aralian shrugged. “Your childhood I’d expect.”
Rheia got a far-away look in her eyes and didn’t say anything for several moments. “I grew up in Drooganhut, far, far away from here. I had an easy life, I was the only daughter of a fisherman. I had three brothers, all older than me.
“Eight years ago, when I was ten, there was a raid on my town. Not many people attacked, but whoever they were, they could hold down a fight with no problem. They were powerful warriors.
“I remember one of them, he was very ugly, like a monster. He was very fat, and had strange, black tattoos all over his body. He wore no shirt, but only wore a warrior’s tunic bottom piece. Instead of hands, he had blades, from his elbow, down.
“He kicked open the door of our house where me and my family had been hiding, and struck down my father who had tried to protect us… he took my three brothers, and left me and my mother afraid and alone…. How could he do that?” Rheia shouted. “Why? He didn’t even let us say goodbye. All the raiders left, taking men and older boys from us. It took years to get back to normal, and still then, I never did feel the same.”
Aralian stared at his plate of food and thought. “I know who killed your father and took away your brothers.”
“You do?” asked Rheia. “How?”
“He’s the same person who gave me this cut,” Aralian pointed to his chest.
Rheia froze. She stared at him. “I never thought… I never even dreamed of ever hearing of him again….”
Aralian nodded. “His name is Pramístro.”
Rheia repeated the name in her mind. “Tell me more about him.”
“I’m afraid that’s all I know, Rheia,” said Aralian.
Rheia spaced out for a few seconds. “Just to know he’s still out there, alive. Just to know I still have the chance to finish off his sorry little life…”
“Revenge, revenge you stupid girl!” said a voice from behind Aralian and Rheia.
Aralian turned around to see an old woman standing behind Rheia. She was around Rheia’s height. She wore a black shawl around her head, and a black dress. Everything about her seemed old and worn, but still very active.
Her face was deeply wrinkled, and beady green eyes stared at Aralian out of deep sockets.
Rheia didn’t turn around, but said, “Hello Cretchin.”
The old woman, Cretchin shook her head. “I’ve been looking all over for you Rheia, you foolish girl. Sometimes I think you have too much of my husband’s blood in you.”
“But I’m not even related to you Cretchin,” said Rheia.
Cretchin looked at Aralian as she stroked Rheia’s hair as if to look for knots. “Very foolish girl she is, young man, she’ll never find a good husband,” she said, and then walked away.
“Who was that?” asked Aralian, watching Cretchin scuttle away down the table isle.
“Cretchin…” said Rheia. “She and her husband took me to live with them after my mother died of sorrow sickness from losing her three sons and my father. But her husband is dead now, that’s why she wears black.”
Rheia then told him how she came to be there. She had come to the Midian Stronghold with hundreds of other people from the true land of Drooganhut. Some other people left soon after that to go to other lands Drooganhut owned.
Aralian and Rheia finished eating, and Rheia took Aralian to where he would now stay. It was a nicer, larger room, similar to Rheia’s.
There was one open wall, overlooking hills and woods of Ashtureth’s Stomach. There was a bed in the near left corner of the room, and a mirror and dresser opposite of it.
Aralian’s bag of things, his clothes, papers, and his poleaxe were all sitting by the open wall.
Aralian quickly walked over to his poleaxe and grabbed it. “This is mine!” he said, twirling it in his fingers. “I remember this, I used it for fighting…”
“You don’t remember….” said Rheia.
“No I don’t….” said Aralian.
Rheia walked around his room. She stood on the balcony of the open wall and gazed out over the land. “I wish I could get to know you, but I’m sure you’d like to get to know yourself too….”
Aralian walked over to Rheia and smiled. “That’s true, I wish I could remember. Maybe if I rest a bit longer it’ll all come back to me.”
Rheia said nothing, but walked toward the door. She was about to close the door behind her when she said, “I’ll be right down the hall if you… never mind.” With that she shut the door behind her, leaving Aralian alone in the room.
Aralian looked over the land, the cliffs and woods, the river below. The warm temperature in the air mixed with the cool breeze made Aralian drowsy.
The sun had just set, and Aralian realized that Rheia had lit a candle for him. But Aralian just blew it out, not caring to stay up any longer.
I’ll probably wake up and find this is a dream… and a bad one at that… he thought as he lay on the soft bed. The feather pillow was so comfortable, and his eyelids so heavy, he couldn’t have stayed up if he had wanted to.

All to soon he woke up again. He knew it couldn’t have been more than a few hours, but he was in the Midian Stronghold, owned by Drooganhut….
Drooganhut… the far northern country. How could such a small country have such a wide range of land?
Aralian jumped out of bed, he remembered! All the memories he had lost had come back to him. Gothorik, the Shadow Army, Hellgäré…
Aralian merged his old thoughts with recent ones of the Midian Stronghold, and Rheia, and king Augur. It wasn’t right, Pramístro had tried to capture him, that had messed everything up. What if they had already battled in Hellgäré without him?
Gothorik must think I’m dead! Thought Aralian.
They were close to Hellgäré, very close. If they hadn’t battled yet, he still had at least a day’s journey to Hellgäré, and by then they could have fought without him.
Aralian became angry. Angry at himself for not remembering sooner, and at Pramístro for having captured him.
And why me? He asked himself angrily. I’m just another human being, nothing important or special. Why couldn’t it have be been Ee-zhar, or Gothorik, or some other person? And why do I have these stupid tattoos on the sides of my head? Why does Drooganhut have a stronghold so close to Hellgäré? Why do I find Rheia so attractive when I have other things to worry about?
Aralian bent other and put his fists up to his face. He pushed on his eyes until he saw colored clouds. All these answerless questions weighing down on him was too much for him to take.
Who is Ee-zhar for real? Why does Diamondus want to take over Midgard? Why am I having these strange dreams and visions? Nobody loves me! I have no family! How could my father desert me like that, and my mother die? Am I not loved by anyone?
He lashed out and kicked the nearby dresser, roaring. One of the dresser’s legs broke and stood at an irregular angle. Pain seared up Aralian’s right foot.
He hobbled over to the open wall, overlooking the landscape. The moon shone bright overhead, and the early winter wind swept into the room.
On the sandstone balcony, Aralian fell into a sitting position and held his foot in his hands. He crouched over and rocked himself back and forth, and for the first time in years, he cried. He sobbed into his vest with all his might. He had been broken down to the point of defeat, even though he had not even struck a killing blow to the enemy and had never even battled.
I’m a ruin… Aralian’s mind repeated.
A soft creak signaled the opening of his door. He stopped rocking back and forth and sobbing, and instead listened.
Footsteps drew nearer and stopped in back of him. He heard light breathing.
“Aralian…” it was Rheia. “What’s wrong?” She knelt down in front of him, her beautiful eyes staring straight into his. “I heard you yell or something, I-" She sat down. “Talk to me Aralian.”
Aralian just stood with his head bowed, staring at his still hurting foot. He couldn’t believe himself. I should’ve just stayed in Dex Balix. Then I wouldn’t have gotten into this mess.
“Aralian?” asked Rheia.
Aralian looked at her in the eyes. “I remember now, and I hate it. I should’ve been there for my best friend, and fought alongside him. Instead I trusted the army I was with enough to not worry about my own safety.”
“An army?” Rheia asked. “What Army? From what empire?”
“No Empire,” answered Aralian. “It’s a secret army, the Shadow Army. We were supposed to attack Hellgäré…”
Rheia’s mouth dropped open. She shook her head. “Oh no…”
“What’s wrong?” asked Aralian worriedly.
“You listened to the fake threat didn’t you?” asked Rheia. “Or your leader did. He must have heard about it and acknowledged it as fact. But, it was a lie, a trap for anyone foolish enough to actually believe it. That is the way of Diamondus… trickery and evil.”
Aralian shook his head. “No… it can’t be. My closest friend was there… he…”
“I’m so sorry. The people of Drooganhut investigated the threat further and found out it was a lie,” said Rheia. “Your Shadow Army must have believed it easily… not weighing the dangers over matter.”
“Will Diamondus’ army show mercy to my friends?” asked Aralian hopefully.
“I don’t know,” said Rheia. She bit her lip. “There’s a good chance they took them as captives, killing off anyone else who stood in their way. It sounds harsh… but that is how war is.”
“Well, how long has it been since your people rescued me?” asked Aralian.
“Six days,” said Aralian.
Aralian looked at the floor. “It’s too late, they’d have attacked yesterday.”
I tear dropped from Rheia’s eye. “That’s terrible… I don’t know what to say…”
Aralian blinked away tears, trying to look strong in front of Rheia. He put his arms around her and pulled her close to him.
“Maybe we’ll figure this out someday,” Aralian said, letting his tears flow. “I’m confused. There’s something I should be doing… but I don’t know what it is… I feel like I have no significance in this world.”
“Everyone has a purpose,” said Rheia.
“I’m going to find mine,” said Aralian.














~XXIII~
The Searcher
-----------------

Sarile stared at the street below from her bedroom window. All the little houses and shops, people bustling by. So much noise. It seemed more people had come to the Capitol City, Larkhaven since the news of war had been spread.
Perhaps, thought Sarile, they feel safer here. I don’t though. I don’t feel safe anywhere this close to Hellgäré.
In fact, from the way her father, the king, talked about it, Diamondus’ army seemed unstoppable. Sarile shook her head, it seemed quite depressing that all these people thought they were safe when the enemy was practically at their doorstep.
Cowardly are the minds of those who live behind strong walls… her father always told her. He had a lot of interesting sayings, and Sarile always tried to remember all of them.
She respected her father a lot. To her, he was one of the wisest men in the land.
Liliah came into the room. She stood by Sarile and looked out the window with her. “You seem a little troubled, Sarile,” she said.
“I am,” said Sarile. “This war is taking up so much of my father’s time, I never get to see him.”
Liliah nodded. “Well, I came to tell you, he would like you to come to dinner. He has found a man he would like you to meet.”
“What does that mean?” asked Sarile, even though she thought she already knew. She walked away from the open window and over to her bed.
“You know what it means, Sarile,” said Liliah. “Now lets find you something to wear eh?”
Liliah went over to Sarile’s wardrobe and began searching for a dress to fit the occasion.
“But I’m only fifteen!” said Sarile. “I can’t be wed until I’m sixteen!”
“Which is in three months…” said Liliah distractedly. “Ah, what about this dress?” Liliah held up a dark green dress.
Sarile glanced at it for a second. “Too green…” she said as rudely as possible. “Come on! I don’t even know this man, for all I know he could be ugly and weird!”
“You never know,” said Liliah. She held up another dress and Sarile shook her head.
“Alright, I’ll meet him,” said Sarile. “But he’d better be a nice man!”
After finding a brown and white dress, that she liked, Sarile headed to the dining hall where her father and mother waited.
Sarile’s mother went up to her. “You’ll like this man, I’m sure. Give it a chance and you’ll see. He’s very rich, very handsome, and very gathered.”
Rheia said nothing, but sat down in the center chair of the long table. Rich! What kind of girl gives a damn second if a man’s rich?
She rolled her eyes as the dining hall doors opened to reveal a man. He walked in, and Sarile looked at him.
He had dark brown hair, and black eyes that seemed a little tired. He was tall, he seemed to be around 30 years of age or a little more. But in all, Sarile did recognize that this man was very handsome. And she couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous around him.
He bowed to Maxaton, the king, and to Henna, Sarile’s mother. The he turned to Sarile and smiled bowing to her too. He looked very wise, and it intimidated Sarile a bit.
Maxaton said, “Seethe, meet my daughter, the princess, Sarile. Sarile, meet a new friend of mine, the nobleman, Seethe.”
Seethe bowed again to Sarile and said in a strong deep voice, “A pleasure to meet you, my lady, Sarile.”
Sarile blushed. “Nice to meet you, Seethe.” She stood up.
“Please, do not stand for me. I am just a simple man,” he said.
Sarile sat down again, and so did Maxaton and Henna, on the far sides of the long table.
Seethe waited for everyone to be seated before taking the last chair directly across from Sarile.
Sarile knew that Seethe was no ‘simple man’. Everything about him seemed wise and ancient, even though he didn’t look old.
The servants brought out the first course, just as Maxaton asked Seethe, “So, where do you come from?”
Seethe cleared his throat, “Díot.”
“Díot?” asked Sarile. Her father shot her a reproaching look.
“My you’ve traveled some distance to come here,” said Maxaton.
“Quite,” said Seethe. “I search for someone. Two people actually.”
“Their names?” asked Maxaton, looking up at Itarm.
Seethe shrugged, “It might not mean much to you, but their names are Aralian and Pramístro. Finding Pramístro will most definitely lead me to Aralian.”
Maxaton nodded. “I know where Pramístro is. He captured a few people from a sister army of ours. Well I’m not actually sure how many people he captured.”
“One. Aralian,” said Seethe. “But where exactly is he?”
“Floodgate Pass. Northern Tower, second division of the east wing,” said Maxaton proudly.
Seethe nodded. “Good man,” he said. “I admire your spies, and your ruling over them.”
“Thank you,” said Maxaton smiling. “I hope that when you find him you will deal with him rightly.”
Seethe shook his head. “For every one killed three more shall die. I seek not to kill the man " for what little amount of human he has left in him " but to find out where Aralian is.”
Maxaton said nothing for a few moments. “Who is this Aralian?”
Seethe lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “If I’m correct, someone very important.”
“Really?” said Maxaton.
“Yes sir,” said Seethe.
For the next half-hour they talked about light topics. Sarile kept her eyes on Seethe, not sure how she felt about him. He seemed so calm and collected, it was almost strange. His eyes held signs of deep anger, hatred, and confusion. It was this strange imbalance of emotion that made Sarile feel like Seethe was different, very different. But no one else seemed to notice this.
Later, Seethe wished them a good day and left the palace. Sarile watched him leave, wishing she could see what he did when he found this Pramístro or Aralian.

~XXIV~
Ancient Eyes
-----------------

Aralian walked out of his room. It had been two days since Rheia had shown him around Boraine, the 28th of October.
The day before Rheia had shown him the rest of the stronghold and the town. But Aralian had been very distracted, only able to think of his past and his place in the world.
By now it was midday, he had already eaten breakfast and lunch, and ran into Cretchin twice.
He was on his way to meet Rheia. She was in her room waiting for Aralian to come so that she could show him the fields of vegetables up above. He walked down the narrow hall to her room and knocked on the door, but there was no answer.
“Rheia?” asked Aralian. “Are you in there?”
No voice replied. Maybe she fell asleep waiting for me? Aralian thought to himself.
He slowly opened the door. But the room was empty except for the bed, the dresser and mirror, no sign of Rheia.
Aralian was about to turn around and leave, when he noticed something on her bed. He walked over to the foot of the bed to get a better look at the object.
It was a skull, and by the deformed shape and sharp teeth, Aralian knew it was a Rastakei skull.
He cringed as he saw there was a small scroll in the left eye socket. Curious, he pulled it out and unrolled it.
Scrawled on the paper was a hurriedly written note that read:

Aralian, you are more than you think you are, I have all answers of your past present and future. Take the southern road meet me at the bottom of Tzmol-tek-er. If you are half the man I think you to be, you will arrive here in about a day and a half.
Proof of alliance: I know what happened to your father. I know that Pramístro injured you. I know that you fight with a poleaxe.
That is all the proof I have to give you for now. Everything else should rely on your want for knowledge.
Do not tell anyone that you are leaving. It could cost you your life.
I look forward to meeting you Aralian, I know more about you than you do.

Aralian blinked twice and then reread the letter. It was so blunt and so commanding, he wasn’t sure what to think.
After a couple moments, his mind began to work again. Should I go? He wondered.  I know I want knowledge, but do I really want it bad enough to risk my life? Then again, I don’t know if I’ll ever get another chance like this in my life… what have I got to lose? I don’t even know is my closest friend is alive or dead. I have to do this, for my own honor’s sake.
It wasn’t hard for him to decide, this is what he had been waiting for. A chance to find out why everyone viewed him as such an important person even though he had never done anything worthwhile in his life.
Aralian went back to his room, taking the skull and the note with him.
He put the skull under his bed, and took his poleaxe out of the corner. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be coming back, so he grabbed up his bag of things and put it on his shoulders.
In minutes, he was out of the stronghold, looking back at it over his shoulder. It was strange that he hadn’t really just gotten there, but it still felt like he had because he had been asleep for so long.
Aralian hoped Rheia wouldn’t be to worried about him leaving. He had really begun to love her presence. But there was something holding her back from being with him more. She seemed to want to be a close friend of Aralian, but something, or someone was making her think a different way about Aralian than she should, negatively.

Aralian walked for hours. It hadn’t taken him long to find the southern road. The farther south he went, the fewer trees there were. Every now and then he would walk by a large hill, with black stone all around it.
Aralian wasn’t sure what the black stone was, but he thought it might be cooled magma.
Gothorik used to talk about volcanoes a lot when he was younger. He said his father had once gone to one, and stood at it’s base. Now Aralian was certain that Gothorik’s father had been at Tzmol-tek-er.
Volcanoes… black mountains filled with melted red stone, so hot, if you touched it you’d be burned in an instant. Lava it’s called. Gothorik said you can’t even come near it without feeling intense heat. Aralian couldn’t imagine a worse place to meet someone. Why there? At the bottom of an angry mountain?
The day went by quickly as Aralian walked though the barren land. He didn’t think much about anything except his goal, Tzmol-tek-er. Gothorik was either dead or in prison along with Ee-zhar, Gorgavhm, Ré, Jeiuhb, and Haili. Rheia was probably wondering where he was, and… that was it. Those were the only people who knew about him, well besides whoever wanted to meet him at Tzmol-tek-er.
Aralian found a quiet place to sleep in a small, overhanging, cave-like formation. There were a few trees here and there, but mostly the black rock. He fell asleep quickly, wanting to start moving as soon as he woke up in the morning.

As the sun began to get low on the day after, Aralian saw Tzmol-tek-er. It was so much larger that Aralian had expected, and so much more ominous.
Colossal ridges ran down the entire mountain, and the top threw up immense clouds of black ash and smoke so that the sky was barely visible through it.
Aralian stopped for a moment to take in the sight, it was one of the most intense things he had ever seen. He could feel the might of the magma below, boiling stone causing the earth to shake. The air smelled like stone against stone sparks.
After a moment, Aralian kept walking towards it. He was almost there, just a mile or so left to go. He kept his eyes open for any signs of footprints.
The closer he got to the volcano, the more he could feel its power causing tremors in the ground. He could almost feel the magma moving underground as he reached the base.
The road ended with a slight upward slant.
He dropped his bag and took out his poleaxe. There was not a sound in the air. He breathed deeply and stared at the volcano in awe.
Now what? He wondered. But the answer came quickly. Someone’s footsteps on the stony ground approached him from behind.
Slowly he turned around. Standing only a few feet behind him was a man dressed in full black and red armor. The only piece he wasn’t wearing was his helmet, which he held under his left arm.
In the other hand, he held a trident with a battleaxe blade under it. His hair was dark brown and his black eyes seemed to hold ancient wisdom and anger.
“Greetings Aralian,” said the man. “I’d hoped I would meet you here. My name is Seethe.”


















~XXV~
Bloodline Companion
----------------------------

Aralian just stared at Seethe. He had nothing to say to him, all he wanted were answers, and that was what he had come for.
“I understand you don’t trust me,” Seethe said. “I would be wary if I were you too. I’m afraid there’s no way you’d be able to defeat me even if you tried.”
Aralian gripped his poleaxe tighter.
“Do not worry,” Seethe said, “I am on your side. Listen, I know you very well, you are not who you think you are.”
“How do you know?” asked Aralian.
“You feel your destiny was nothing to do with the fate of the world, and nothing you will ever do will help anybody,” Seethe said slowly.
Aralian nodded subconsciously. Seethe had said exactly what he had been feeling, like he knew his heart well.
“Come with me,” said Seethe.
Aralian waited a few seconds before following after Seethe.
Seethe took him around the bottom of a small, black, cliff near the base of Tzmol-tek-er. There were no plants of any kind growing around the volcano, and Aralian hadn’t yet seen even a bug.
Seethe stopped and turned to face the cliff. This side of the cliff was so smooth, it was like a black mirror. Carved into the center of the cliff, was a large symbol about the size of a man.
It was an upside down triangle with three lines coming off the bottom.
Seethe pointed at the strange carving and asked, “Aralian, does this mean anything to you?”
Aralian looked at the symbol. “No, not at all. Should it?”
“No,” Seethe answered. “I didn’t think it would.
Seethe walked up to the carving and stood in front of it. With his right leg, he kicked at it.
Right before Aralian, the area of the cliff with the symbol opened inward like two double doors, splitting the symbol in half.
Before entering the room inside the cliff, Seethe said, “That is the Bloodline Star by the way, that symbol on the doors.”
Aralian followed Seethe into the room lit by torches on either side.
It was like a large hallway. The right side was entirely covered with paintings of men fighting, like a large battle, and the left wall was covered in carved names.
The names were connected by little carved lines.
“It’s a family tree,” said Aralian. “How will this help me solve my problems?”
Seethe turned to face Aralian. “You truly are your father’s son, so like him in so many ways,” Seethe said. “Go to the end of the family tree and read the last few names.”
As Aralian walked down the hall, he looked above the names where in large letters was carved, ‘An account of the Thronegate bloodline.’ After those words was a picture of two roses, with their stems all tied up in knots.
Aralian began to read the names out loud as he drew near the end of the family tree.
“Sakke wed Maye and had three children, Sakkéh, Diamondis, and Loregrave,” said Aralian. “So this is Diamondus’ family tree?”
“It is the family tree of all whose names are carved into it,” said Seethe.
Aralian shrugged and continued reading. “Sakkéh had no children. Diamondus wed Naia and had two children, Hannah, and Seethe.” Aralian looked at Seethe, “You’re Diamondus’ son?”
“I am,” said Seethe.
Aralian read the last names. “Loregrave wed a human, Tiah, and had one child… Aralian, me?”
Seethe nodded.
Aralian dropped his poleaxe. “Any particular reason why it mentions my mother was a ‘human?’” asked Aralian.
“Yes,” Seethe answered simply.
Aralian turned to Seethe and said, “Tell me everything you know.”

Ѫ




Epilogue of Book One: Triumph in Samarodia

“Good news my fellow conqueror, Pramístro! We have won over the hearts of the people of Samarodia,” he said, in his dark, growling voice. “Our inspiring friend Annáh, the new ruler of Samarodia has taught the people respect of his new throne. He has finally been able to go out in public without being flogged. In fact it was quite the opposite, he was hailed as a great leader and was tossed rose petals.”
Pramístro nodded, pleased. “As I always say, my dear friend, people quickly forget their old rulers. Their minds and weak, and they are selfish enough to accept any bribe, even when it goes against their own country.”
He smiled, “Yes, and we are not short of things to bribe with!”
Pramístro nodded. “Well then, which empire shall we take next… this has almost become like a game.”
“Quite,” he said. “This is a tactic that cannot fail. We trick them to think we will attack with force, when really, we destroy them from the inside out. Yet, my forces are already massing on the edges near Dex Balix, Warvin, and Ogsdinra. I expect many bloody battles between now and our full conquering.
“Still I wonder, where are those who stood against me so strongly so many years ago? Where have they gone? When will they help him become who he must? If it weren’t for them, I’d have already thrown my full force into attacking, which I am on the brink of doing anyway.”
Pramístro smiled darkly. “Do not worry, they are long gone I’m sure. Nothing will ever be the same when we are through with this war.
“We’ve got it all under control, me, Annáh, and you, Diamondus.”