Chapter One: The Moonlit Glade

A Chapter by Henry

Now, in the small village of Alvay, Dan is called to see what has befallen his best friend Rylle.

I: The Moonlit Glade

“Dan! Hey, Dan! It’s your turn! Dan!” He was brought back to awareness via a friendly but firm slap to his left shoulder. He looked around, and remembered what they’d been doing, that they’d been playing cards.

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry everyone, I…I must have dozed off for a moment.” Embarrassedly, he laid down three queens and allowed the game to continue on to the next round.

Dan Avell sat on the dirt floor of the old shack he and his friends used as a meeting spot from time to time. This evening, as they sat playing an exciting game of crowns and swords[1], Dan was hard-pressed to keep his mind on it. Normally, he would be as enthusiastic about playing cards as the next guy, but tonight something kept tickling at the back of his mind, something whose presence he was well-aware of but was unable to identify as this or that. It was just…something—an instinct, maybe, he thought.

“Dan! It’s your turn again!”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of his distracted state but knowing that in all actuality he was unable to do so for any length of time. “Uh…”

“Dan, you okay bud?” It was his friend Lonce, who was also the one who had been inquiring about him the last few times. “Maybe you should go outside and get a little air. Join us again in a few rounds.”

Dan knew Lonce would want what was best for him. He was a good friend. And what he said made sense, anyway. “All right, yeah…maybe I should.” He rubbed his head as he thought of how much it was bothering him. Then he got to his feet. “I’ll…I’ll uh…” His voice trailed off as he realized everyone was staring at him in annoyance, and, in several cases, impatience. Suddenly extremely nervous, he swallowed some saliva and then stepped out into the night, away from those judging sets of eyes, as quickly as he could.

It was a perfect night. The pleasant warmth of the late summer was tempered by the gentle breeze that came along from time to time. The cool grass was a perfect complement beneath his feet, along with the dim moonlight that shone down upon it all. It did feel good to be out in the night air—wonderful, in fact—but it did nothing to dispel the instinct constantly prodding his mind. Unable to enjoy himself until he did something to impede it or deal with it, he wondered what it was that was causing it. Whether it might be a warning of something that would befall him this night…or perhaps of something he was meant to do…or, quite possibly, it could be something that would occur, but that he could do absolutely nothing about. He wondered which of the three it was, or if it wasn’t in fact any of them at all. At the moment, he had no way to know.

As he continued on through the short grass, unconsciously moving towards the edge of the woods, he could do nothing but try to think of what he might be meant to do, or what was to happen. Endless possibilities continually streamed into his mind, only to leave them again a moment later, discarded unlikelihoods.

He stopped suddenly, exactly on the fringe of the forest and the plains, the ultimate extremities of both the quietly exquisite flatlands and the malevolently foreboding forest—the barrier between two worlds. There was no feeling this time, no itch at the back of his mind, no unseen force probing his thoughts—instead, this time, he was simply and completely immobilized. Planted at perhaps the most geographically specific spot in all the land, and all he could do was watch and wait, the breeze gently flapping his dark hair this way and that, the dim moonlight illuminating some things for him but not others, letting him see only a scarce few feet ahead, giving him only the hint of an alert to whatever danger might approach. Not that it would matter, in any case, bound as he was.

But…it must have happened for a reason. It must have. Whatever force was putting this all into play, he didn’t think they would do all this to him just to have him killed, helpless to defend himself. At the very least, he could hope. With a sigh, he tried to set his mind elsewhere. It didn’t work. He was hopelessly and inexorably drawn back to whatever event would occur here. So, to the exclusion of all else, he watched the land ahead.

CRASH!!!

Something came barreling out of the trees, right towards Dan. As he gulped in fear, he tried not to think about what manner of creatures might be lurking in the darkness of the forest at this time of night. Maybe he would be lucky and it would just be some conventional, well-known creature—a wolf, or something. Then again, he thought, bound as he was, he would be no less dead from a wolf than from some demonic warlord. He tried to shrug off the feeling burrowing its way around his insides.

He was now beginning to make out the silhouette of whatever it was that was approaching, and it seemed…well, now that he noticed, it seemed distinctly small. Whatever this thing was, then, couldn’t pose too much of a threat…could it? No, he couldn’t let himself think that. It could still be anything.

It could still be deadly.

He focused as best he could on breathing in and out, deep breaths, as the thing gradually became more visible in the moon’s dim light. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale—

His breathing stopped a moment as the creature finally came close enough for him to distinguish what manner of beast it was. Then his breathing returned to normal, and he let out a small laugh. The “beast” was, in fact, just a small, young girl. However, Dan quickly cut off his nervous laughter as he realized the state she was in. The amount of blood drenching the tiny frame of her body, coupled with the fact that there wasn’t so much as a shred of clothing on the poor thing, made him want to cry out. But the wounds—oh, the poor child’s wounds!—they were something else entirely. The grotesqueness of the sight clenched at the pit of his stomach, threatening to spew out his insides. To see such horrors on any person would have reviled him, but on a child…the heinousness of it all would be cheapened by any words that sought to describe it. As he was forced to stand there, unable to do anything…it was simply too much.

Then, as the child continued running towards him, he felt his bonds ease a bit and then vanish. He was filled with joy that he could finally do something to help this poor girl. Smiling sincerely, complemented by the equally genuine tears streaming down the sides of his face, he knelt down to be at the girl’s level and held his arms open in what he thought would seem to her the safe, welcoming embrace of a watchful guardian. He hoped it would seem so, anyway. He knew she would certainly need one.

To his delight, she seemed to turn her path directly towards him as he offered the embrace, and soon ran straight into his open arms. As he embraced her, he whispered words of gentle comfort, tried his best to caress her torn body for reassurance. When she didn’t respond in any way he could perceive, he drew back a bit, concerned, and looked to see her reaction.

To his extreme surprise, her expression wasn’t one of terror, one of pain, or even one of sorrow. Instead…well, Dan thought her face looked almost…blank.

Frankly, the expression bewildered him. From her appearance, the manner of her entrance, and even the circumstances around it…he would have thought this girl anything but devoid of emotion. Now what was he supposed to do, if comforting her didn’t work? What could he do? He could…well, he could try.

He cleared his throat. “Ahm…what’s…what’s your name?” he asked as tenderly as he could, shaking a little at the prospect that he had no idea what her reaction would be.

“Dan? Dan, is that you?!?” came the distinctly distressed voice of someone definitely much older than this child. He knew that voice.

“Rylle? Rylle, where are you?” He wasn’t sure exactly how this link of communication was being maintained, but he knew what he had to do. What he was meant to do.

“Dan! Oh, thank the gods! Dan, I’m in the glade! Our glade!”

“All right, Rylle, I’m coming. Don’t worry. I’m coming.”

“B—” Her voice cut off before she could say anything. The girl she had spoken from fell to the ground limply. Dan knew without checking for a pulse that this child was dead. It made sense, given her wounds—she had been dead before he had even seen her. A final tear fell down his face for the poor creature, and then he got up from the cold, damp earth and prepared himself for the mission ahead.

The fact that Rylle had tried to reply to him telling her he was coming disconcerted him a little bit—made him think maybe there was something wrong, that it would be some kind of a trap…but whatever force was behind this had guided the girl, the vessel, to him for a reason. And he knew now what that reason was.

Purposefully, he made his way through the thick, dark underbrush of the forest, as fast as he could. From here, it would be faster to cut through the trees themselves rather than take what would be, for this trip, a very roundabout dirt path. He didn’t know what was happening to Rylle, but he would help her. He would save her. He would.

He tripped on a rock as he sprinted on through the dense growth of the forest, falling to the earth ahead of him face first. Doubts immediately sprang to his mind, questioning whether or not he could reach his friend in time, whether she would make it, whether or not he would kill her with his incompetence. Clenching his teeth, he shoved them away, steeling himself to do what needed to be done. Rylle was meant to be saved. So she would be.

Froth spilling through his still-clenched teeth, he continued on, still going faster than most would venture to in this sort of terrain, in this light, but not quite at the reckless speed he had been using earlier. He knew it wouldn’t benefit anyone if he fell on his face every two minutes. He wasn’t stupid.

A few moments later, he remembered his knife, and pulled it out. It was the only weapon he had on him, but it would have to serve him for the task ahead, whatever that would be. He wrapped his hand around the small hilt, poised to cut anyone who posed a problem to him. He knew that, mentally, he was equally prepared for such an action. He would not be caught unawares.

Seconds slowly passed for him as he plodded on through the stifling darkness of the forest. Minutes. He knew exactly where he was going, exactly how to reach the glade…but without being able to see any of the usual landmarks—any of his reference points—it almost felt like he was making the journey in vain, sometimes. But then, he would remember exactly how important it was that he continue—how absolutely vital—and then he would trek on, sometimes running for awhile out of pure desperation, and then remembering what had happened earlier.

Whatever his outlook, however, his mission was certainly one of desperate circumstances, so it was fitting that he finally stumbled into that fated glade a mere ten minutes from the time he set out, when it would have taken most men easily a full half hour, or more. Panting like a dog, he bent over and laid his free hand on his leg as he quickly scanned the area to figure out what exactly the situation was.

Even with what he had prepared himself for, what he saw was a bit disconcerting. He and Rylle had always come to the glade largely for the fact that, contrary to the forest surrounding it, it was completely open to the sky, and, on nights when the moon was out, would be perfectly and beautifully illuminated by its cold, serene light, when everything else was consumed in shadow. Tonight was certainly no exception, but tonight...Dan almost wished it hadn’t been so completely illuminating, and so suddenly. He was glad that he was able to take visual stock of the situation…but walking into the situation like this completely bewildered him.

Standing absolutely still in the middle of the glade was Rylle, looking, as he would have guessed, scared out of her mind, and, though he wasn’t sure, he thought she looked as if she were held to the spot through some kind of magic rather than merely being paralyzed with fear.

On the opposite side of the glade stood the obvious assailant, a figure garbed in a hauntingly brilliant cloak of pure white. Its bony, silver…rather unearthly-looking hand came out of the drapes of the cloak, looking poised so as to cast some sort of spell, perhaps. The rest of its body was obscured by the cloak, but for the ghastly pair of gray, dead-looking eyes which seemed to stare off into nothing, and yet at everything—as if his gaze went directly into oblivion, and also had the power to bring oblivion to the world around it.

The whole scene had a very…macabre feel to it, Dan thought, but though he had every desire to leave it as quickly as he could and flee for his life, he knew he couldn’t do that.

The figure had Rylle.

He had to stop it.

Shaking uncontrollably, he stepped into the open glade, sure to reveal himself to the nightmarish figure standing nearby, but the choice he had made nonetheless. Struggling to breathe evenly, he looked down at his knife, shifted it a little in his hand, excruciatingly nervous and excruciatingly anxious as to the coming events. He had absolutely no idea what would happen next, and his life could literally hang in the balance.

What happened was the only course of action he had not anticipated whatsoever—nothing at all. Shaking harder, he felt his knife drop to the ground as the hilt slipped out of his increasingly sweaty palm. He had prepared himself for anything, for whatever momentous thing was surely about to take place, but this…even if it did make since, even if there was some logical course of action to take based on the circumstances, there was no way now to stop the adrenaline rushing through his system, his whole body now crying for a release of the tremendous amount of energy it held poised for use, teetering on the brink between holding it in and letting it all come crashing down in a wave of electric violence.

Frustrated to the point where he completely forsook rational thought, Dan, still trembling uncontrollably, reached down to whisk up the knife, then, when he had it, sprinted blindly toward the general direction of the robed figure, all inhibitions thrown aside. He needed a release. He needed it now.

His headlong rush was brought to an abrupt halt less than halfway across the field, as he was thrown back by some invisible barrier blocking the way to Rylle and the robed figure—and, judging from the fact that neither so much as flinched when he crashed into it, rendering those within it oblivious to the goings-on outside.

Immediately, he was back up on his feet, not even bothering to lick whatever wounds he might have. He still needed the release. He could not rest until he got it. More carefully, though by no means slowly, he made his way towards where he thought the generally area of the barrier was, feeling ahead with an outstretched hand, his knife awkwardly clutched in the other.

After a few moments of searching like this, his hand came in contact with the barrier. Without hesitation, he turned to face it head-on and slammed his knife into it with all his might. With a loud crack, his small, thin knife blade snapped off, flying back towards the direction he had come, leaving him holding a useless wooden hilt in his now thoroughly jarred hand. The barrier, as far as he could tell, was unaffected. Frustrated, his mind raced through other possibilities on what to do. He would have thought sure that, with all the energy he had already used, he’d feel weaker—or calmer, at least—by now. But that was not the case. If anything, his body screamed at him all the more to do something.

Growing more and more frustrated by the second, and having more and more trouble containing it, Dan felt his feet automatically moving across the ground, his body’s natural response to the growing pressure within—to move. He felt himself running, galloping around where he knew the barrier was, the barrier circling Rylle and the ghastly figure with her. Wait, he thought amid the hundreds of other things streaming through his mind. How did I know it was circling them? I hit only one small part of it. How could I have any way to know…

His thoughts were turned from his questions to the scene ahead of him. Instead of merely standing still, the white-robed figure was now approaching Rylle, an elegant-looking, jet black, and eerily glowing black mace having just materialized in its hand. Dan watched in horror, unable to do anything but also feeling as though he should be able to hold the world at his fingertips with the sheer power he felt still within himself, waiting to be unleashed. Waiting for what, he couldn’t begin to guess. But he hoped it didn’t wait too long.

In extreme frustration, pacing wildly, he struggled to keep his eyes focused on the scene playing out in front of him, tried to keep his raging torrent of thoughts at bay while he focused on it. Besides the numerous distractions his body gave him, however, the constant ebbing and surging of the strange mace’s glow seemed to have some additional effect of its own. He found himself blinking to the rhythm of it. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. He couldn’t seem to help but be drawn by the mystique about it, the otherworldliness about it, the…the everything about it.

In the back of his mind, some small portion of his brain was aware of everything else going on behind the invisible veil, the haunting creature continuing to make its way to Rylle at a measured pace, not especially fast but not especially slow, either. He felt his body tensing up, his stomach knotting painfully, automatically anticipating the coming tragedy. His primary senses, however, were unable to produce a reaction to the imminent event—because they were unable to perceive the signs leading up to it, to perceive anything but the captivating continuity of that throbbing pulse of black light.

So, while his senses continued to reside in effectual ignorance, his instincts began acting on their own, not for the first time that night. Unbeknownst to him, his body was now going further than merely tensing up in anticipation—than simply playing a passive role in the events it perceived. His arms began moving wildly but precisely in some intricate gesture, his vocal chords started stretching and his mouth moving to form words he could not begin to guess the meaning of. Then and only then, when he finally heard words enter from his own mouth, did he finally grow distracted enough from the nightmarish light of the mace to realize what he was doing—or, more correctly, since he didn’t really have any idea what he was doing, to realize that he was doing anything at all.

He focused his mind on not speaking the strange words, on not moving his arms as he was, on being completely still so he could figure out exactly what was going on. However, he had no power to do so. As much as he willed himself to stop, his body continued on in an inexorable flow of raw energy, working its way through him like some foul enchantment.

So he silently waited, trying to distract himself from his extreme frustration by making himself fully alert, ready to deal with any oncoming threat—at least in theory. All the while, the figure continued advancing towards Rylle, now nearly upon her, with but a few more chillingly, carefully measured steps remaining to close the distance between them. Dan tried his best to avoid thinking about that quickly progressing situation, and looked vigilantly about in every other direction, for any other threat, any other occurrence, or any sort of opening to help with the rather significant problems already in play.

He found nothing until, suddenly, whatever sort of hands-on incantation he had been performing was over with, and he was once again in control of his physical self. Immediately, however, before he could do anything at all, he felt some violent force pulling towards him—pulling something to him at an incredible speed—and then a knife was in his hand—a direct result, as far as he could tell, from that pulling force, which, he thought, was likely caused by whatever spell he had unwillingly casted.

He looked down at the knife. It was a very singular item, its black hilt etched with crimson script in a language he didn’t know, and its blade a stark, deathly white. Before he had a chance to further study it, however, he felt the massive store of energy within him surge out of his body in one massive drain, while barely a moment later, almost simultaneously, a huge beam of glaring orange death surged from the mysterious knife. Dan immediately jerked his head up to see where the dreadfully power-laden, air-crackling ray would head. Even during the instant his eyes were searching for its direction, the ray was melting over the invisible barrier surrounding Rylle and the figure like a deadly wave, then suddenly the barrier was gone, negated somehow by the force of the ray, and Rylle and the figure were abruptly standing naked to the open sky, to the area surrounding, to Dan standing across the glade.

He could see clearly again what the progression of that situation was, and he now saw how truly dire it had become. The horrid, abominable creature garbed in those morbidly sacred robes of white was now standing over Rylle, his Rylle, with that terribly pulsing black mace, at last ready to strike. And, while the sudden disappearance of the invisible barrier had disconcerted Rylle, the figure was not deterred in the least, its bony, silver arm raised to bring down the impending weapon once and for all. Dan felt sweat rolling down his face as he realized what was about to happen. And, to top it all off, the massive ray which had just surged from the knife he held was now all but gone.

The excess energy he had possessed earlier was now gone as well, leaving him with naught but his normal self and the knife which, now, besides the extravagance of its design, looked distinctly ordinary.

Even so, this was Rylle’s life hanging in the balance. He had been willing to attempt saving her merely in his own power when he had first come upon the scene, and he was just as willing to try now. Without hesitating any further, wanting to make sure he at least had a chance to stop the horrible event from taking place, he sprinted towards the figure, creating a picture-perfect reenactment of his previous attempt but for the fact that he now held the new knife. This time, however, he wouldn’t be stopped by that damn barrier. No, he wouldn’t. He certainly would not.

As he approached the figure, finally approached it, he poised the arm holding his outstretched knife and made a giant lunge towards the thing. He meant to end this, and end it now. He would end this.

As he dove into the crisp night air, he was interrupted yet again—luckily, this time, not by a barrier. As he was outstretched there in the air, a moment from taking his one fateful stab at his enemy, he heard a loud crackling noise from the ground below him, and then suddenly a vivid sheet of orange lightning came to life right in front of his face, setting every hair on his body on end and temporary blinding him. Completely disoriented, he fell to the ground, helpless to whatever force might be there to assail him. However, he didn’t think any really would. The lightning had been orange, just like the ray. He was almost sure it had helped him vanquish the beast about to destroy the life of his best friend. He didn’t know what else it could have meant.

He recovered from his blindness and mental shock a minute or two later, and found himself looking up at the expanse of star-ridden sky wreathed with the verdant canopy of the surrounding trees. With a grunt, he sat up, looked to see what exactly had happened. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw a black scorch mark on the ground directly in front of him, and only the white robes, now slightly charred, where that…thing had stood a few moments earlier. Then he saw Rylle, curled up in a ball and convulsing a little, but physically free of harm. He let out a long sigh of relief and got to his feet, quickly clearing the small distance remaining between them.

Tenderly, ever so gently, he laid his hand on Rylle’s back. “Rylle? It’s me, Dan. I’m here. It’s okay, that creature’s gone now. It’s all done.”

“D—Dan?” The shaking stopped, and then she lifted her torso up from the position she had been cradling it in. She looked up to see Dan indeed standing there over her, her loving friend and personal guardian all at once. Tears rolling down her already heavily tear-stained face, she got to her feet and then pressed herself against Dan’s firm body, clutching him in a death grip of an embrace.

Tears came rolling down his own face as he wrapped his arms around his dear friend’s fragile form, as he comfortingly ran his hand down the length of her silky brown hair. “It’s okay, it’s all right now. Everything’s all right now,” he repeated over and over in a soothing whisper. “Everything’s over now.” He smiled to himself. Everything was over, finally. When they were ready, they could return home in safety.

“Dan Avell and Ar’Rylle Zahlras?”

Dan let out a long, miserable groan at whoever it was that had spoken their names. Why couldn’t just be done with? Why?

Despite his strong wish that it wouldn’t happen, however, it had happened, and he had to deal with it. With a deep sigh of resignation, he turned to face whoever this was, still cradling Rylle against his chest.

“Yes?” Dan answered without a thought. “That’s us.” He saw an old man standing in front of him, garbed in disheveled black robes that were heavily stained with something—blood, if he had to guess. His long white beard, along with the recent circumstances, pegged him almost definitely for a wizard of some sort. Dan wondered what exactly he and Rylle were being dragged into.

“I am Valnar Istildaa, a wizard of Tyrvos. You have my deep thanks, Dan. You’ve just gotten us rid of a very nasty necromancer.”

Necromancer. That’s what that thing had been. He wanted to ask more about it, but more important questions were brimming to the top of his mind. “So why…what was going on here? Why was the necromancer trying to attack Rylle? Do you know?” As Dan spoke, Rylle pushed herself away from Dan’s chest and turned to see what was going on. She was still very bleary-eyed, but she obviously wanted to know what was happening.

“Well, Dan, I would tell you, but I’m afraid I don’t want to upset the lady here.” He gave Rylle a warm, amiable smile. “I wouldn’t think you’d like to have to think about that monster anymore.”

She just stared at him sadly for a moment and then buried her head back in Dan’s chest, tears coming down once again.

“As I said,” Valnar continued, “anything I can say about…him…would just make it worse. At any rate, we can all rest easily with the knowledge that the thing is gone, thanks to you, Dan. Of course, I did send you a little help, but you were the one who made it all happen.”

“Help?” Dan questioned. “You mean the knife that flew into my hand? That was from you?”

Valnar nodded. “Yes. I placed a very specific spell of magnetism on it so that it would be attracted to you and only you, and you could use it to get your friend out of the mess she was in.”

Dan rubbed his chin in thought. “But…there was all this energy inside me, and then suddenly it all surged into the knife and turned into that orange beam…”

Valnar gave him a brief, calculating glance. “Dan, I’m not sure exactly what it was you felt, but that knife was already enchanted. It was set to release that stored force of energy upon touch. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m fairly sure it wasn’t caused by anything you did. Other than being there to wield the knife.” He smiled again. “And I’ve already thanked you for that.”

“Hmm.” Dan looked him over one more time. “So why are you here then? Just want to get your knife back?”

Valnar gave him yet another smile. “No—in fact, now that the enchantment has been used, it’s a perfectly normal weapon. You can keep it, if you’d like. No, I’m here for another reason.” He gave Dan a more serious look. Sensing the mood, Rylle pulled away from Dan again, this time actually bothering to wipe at her tears, to see what the wizard had to say. Dan gave her arm a reassuring squeeze as both waited for those fateful words, the exposition of tonight’s horrors and of whatever might be coming in the days ahead.

“I am here,” Valnar said, “to recruit you. Both of you.”

They both looked very confused. Dan stared at him blankly. “Recruit us?”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t have guessed those out here in Alvay would have heard about it, but a war’s just broken out in Tyrvos.”

“War? Against who?” Dan questioned.

“Eynitashk.”

Dan felt his breathing stop, heard Rylle let out a sharp, shrill gasp. He automatically wrapped his arm around her once more, but his thoughts were anywhere but comforting her. Nobody in Alvay had ever actually been to Eynitashk, but everyone knew the name well. Eynitashk—he couldn’t help but shudder just thinking of it—was notoriously known as the lair of the great wyrms.

“And so we…we’re…we…” Dan’s eyes bugged out thinking about fighting against those things, and then his throat closed up before he could babble any further.

Valnar shook his head. “I’m not sure what you heard about it in your children’s tales, but it is far from as terrible as the two of you seem to think. Yes, its inhabitants are the creatures known as wyrms, but they are not nearly the bogeymen you think them. They are merely flesh and blood, and people, with the capacity for good or evil, just like you or I. There is nothing inherently terrifying about them.” He paused a moment, waiting for that to sink in. “However, the war we’re in is very real. I’m not going to go into all the specifics of how it started right now, but Tyrvos is pressed for soldiers, so I’ve been made a recruiter. And I’ve been assigned by the Lord Tyr himself to recruit the two of you. He specifically requested you two to be a part of our special mission forces. I know you’ve already been through a lot tonight, but…” he gave the two of them a small, personal, encouraging smile, “…the two of you would be helping so many people. Dan, Ar’Rylle…what do you say? Will you be a part of the war against Eynitashk?” Then, finally, in a quiet, much graver tone, “In the war against evil?”

It was a lot to take in. Dan stood staring out into the distance as he tried to process all of it. Rylle was back against his chest, crying. “I just want to go home…” she sobbed. “I don’t want to be a part of some special mission.”

Dan really wanted to go home, too. He had had enough trauma for the night. A part of him wanted to fight, but…it wasn’t the thing to do, tonight. Especially for Rylle. Yes, he was decided. They would go home.

“We’re sorry, Valnar,” he said. “But that’s just not going to happen.”

The wizard’s patient smile changed to a frown, and he looked at Dan sadly. “For your sakes, I wish you were right.” He began make intricate hand gestures, similar to the ones Dan had made before getting the knife. Suddenly what was happening registered in Dan’s mind. He scooped Rylle up in his arms and started running. Blindly running.

“But, it’s Lord Tyr’s orders,” Valnar continued. “And it’s not really up to the two of you.”

Dan wasn’t sure how far Valnar had gotten along with the spell, but he desperately hoped he would be able to get out of its range in time. To get Rylle out of its range in time, if nothing else. She wouldn’t be able to handle anything else tonight. She needed to go home. They both did.

“So…” Valnar said, with a resigned, almost tired sigh, “…let’s go.”

WHOOSH!!! Dan abruptly felt himself being drawn backward by an unimaginably strong force. In a mere moment, he was completely swept off his feet and into…into something. Into some…unknown oblivion. His only thought as he entered whatever Hell Valnar was bringing them to was that he had failed Rylle. He had failed her.

He had failed her.

[1] Crowns and swords is the basic equivalent to poker.

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© 2009 Henry

Author's Note

Tell me what you think of the style...too descriptive? Too much long terminology to make the story pace well or feel personal? Review of all other aspects are accepted, but this in particular is something I'd like some input on.