 
### SEA OF THE DEAD

The Slave Prince: Book One  
Copyright Matthew Holmes, 2013

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Published by Matthew Holmes

Smashwords Edition

Cover design by Connor Magill

Manufactured in Canada

First printing December 2013

Visit my Smashwords author page at <https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/MRHolmes>

See reviews and ratings at <https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7540134.Matthew_Holmes>

For my wonderful sister, Kathy

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1: Midnight Escape

Chapter 2: A new Beginning

Chapter 3: Street Fight

Chapter 4: A Voice in the Night

Chapter 5: Accidents

Chapter 6: Witch Hunt

Chapter 7: Tree, Cave, Spy

Chapter 8: Sphergol

Chapter 9: The Beginning of a Journey

Chapter 10: Happy Birthday

Chapter 11: Blinded

Chapter 12: A Way Revealed

Chapter 13: The fight for the Blade

Chapter 14: The Other Side

Chapter 15: The Coast of the Dead

Chapter 16: Under the sea

Chapter 17: The Bottom

Chapter 18: Lament

Chapter 19: Scratching in the Dim

Chapter 20: Desperate

Chapter 21: Bones to Ashes

Chapter 22: The Next Step

Acknowledgements

Authors Bio

Prologue

_Long, long ago, there was a land of great wealth and power. Each citizen who called that world home was blessed with a unique ability that would enable them to see into the future, turn thin air into water, and some of them even could create anything they could imagine._

As the population increased, the people of this land spread out over the entire world, and their powers made life easy.

However, the world soon became too crowded, and the people became angry, unleashing civil wars on every continent. Rioters filled the streets and eventually royal blood was spilled. One morning, Alenad, the High King of the great city of Magentara, was found dead with a silver dagger through his heart.

This caused a deadly all-consuming war between those loyal to the High King, and those who wished to govern themselves. One group who called itself the Defre-Lanc, retreated to a remote area that no one had ever seen. Slowly the battle ended as more and more people fled.

Eventually there were five separate kingdoms where the great city once stood. They were the Defre-Lanc, Acosh, Jenoth, Marianatha, and Sethont. Each kingdom was governed by its own capitol city.

As punishment for their wickedness, monsters were created to roam the land and pose threat to the people, and their powers were sucked away. The return of magic was promised, but it was far off.

The knowledge of the true nature of their power, and of its high reaches were forever lost.

Chapter 1: Midnight Escape

All was dark as the prince rode from the castle into a world unknown, sword at his side and a large satchel over his shoulder. Michael could still hear his father shouting orders to the soldiers. _They'll never catch me now,_ he thought patting his horse on the neck.

When Topaz was young, the prince rescued him from a pack of wolves. They had brought him down hard, striking his side against a tree so he broke three ribs. He was sure to die if Michael had not killed the pack's leader with a well-aimed arrow. The others turned and attacked the prince. One snatched his bow and reduced it to splinters while the others nipped at his ankles.

Michael fell to the base of a tree, defenseless. He heard a soft clank as metal hit rock. At that moment, the prince jumped up and pulled his sword from its sheath. Young as he was, Michael began swinging the thick steel madly at his enemies. Blood streaked the night as he killed the beasts.

When he thought he had finally finished them all the prince relaxed, but the final wolf crouched in the shadows, readying his pounce. When he attacked, Michael instinctively swung his blade, slicing off the wolf's left ear. It scurried away whining.

Michael led the wounded horse to the castle, where he nursed it back to health.

Two years later, the prince rode into the night on Topaz in search of a life away from the crown.

Michael heard a dart whiz past his head. _Sleeping darts_ , he thought to himself. Five horses raced toward him, so he urged Topaz to speed up. If he was caught, they'd take him back to the castle, which was more like a prison to him. He needed to get away.

Michael glanced down at the treasure he stole from his father's weapon rack that very night. It was still contained in the strange leather pouch that kept the blade clean and its owner in one piece.

They were closing in on him. Suddenly spooked, Topaz turned a sharp left and ran into the bushes. Michael's head jerked back as he hit a tree branch. "Ugh!" he felt a warm trickle flow from his head. In a few short moments, blood poured down his head, face and neck and then onto his back. He struggled to stay conscious as it streamed from the wound. This was not his only worry though; they now had a trail to follow.

He ripped off part of his expensive tunic and wrapped it around his head, trying to stop the crimson stream.

_Father must have promised them a share of his treasury for them to be this motivated,_ he thought as they turned right behind him.

Michael was sixteen, nearly considered a man by the standards of his family. In a few short weeks, he would reach adulthood and be given authority over several villages in the kingdom of Jenoth. He would grow his treasury, establish his name in the kingdom, and eventually rule all of Jenoth.

Michael didn't want any of that. All he wanted was just a little bit of freedom, but his father always hunted him down like a cat would a mouse. The prince didn't want to be of royal blood at all. He wanted a real friend, not somebody who trailed him like a lost child just to say that they spent time with the prince. It disgusted him.

The closest thing to a friend that he had ever had was his servant, Fredric. Whenever Michael ever needed something, Fredric was always there. It was his job; he was paid to follow orders from Michael. Finally, Michael had given him his last order—to aid in the escape of the prince.

The stars gleamed above him; seemingly clueless about what was happening below. The sky above was a dark purple as the red evening sky in the west faded to darkness. Though the sun had set an hour ago, it still illuminated the band through the northern sky like a dancer's ribbon. Another dart was fired and it pierced his ear.

A sharp pain shot through his head and distracted him, else he would have seen the Jenoth Gorge—a wide crack in the earth which led down more than two hundred feet. Anything that went in never came back out.

It was too late to stop when he saw the steep drop off, but there was a tree on the other side of the gorge that gave him an idea. He had to act fast to save his life.

A rope was looped around the golden saddle horn; a custom of wardrobe for castle steeds. Quickly, he pulled it from his saddle and reattached it to the strange shaped weapon that he stole from his father. He swung it over his head and aimed for the tree.

He timed his only throw and then released the rope from his right hand.

There was a solid thump as the homemade grappling hook wrapped around the tree and bit into the bark. Seconds later, Michael and Topaz tumbled over the edge. He held on for his life as Topaz fell. Michael swung over to the other side, unable to look down.

When he hit the rock on the other side, his heels bruised from the impact. The prince looked down and watched as his horse disappeared into the mist below. He waited to see if Topaz would climb back up but when he heard a dull thump echo up the brown stone, and a tear rolled down his cheek. He strained to see through the mist, but in truth, he was glad that he couldn't.

Michael climbed up the side of the gorge and examined his handiwork; the dagger gripped into the tree with two of the three back-facing hooks. He pulled the dagger out of the tree and looked it over. _The Talon,_ Michael thought to himself, as the name of the deadly war dagger thrummed in his mind.

The dagger was made of three blackened steel blades that curved out at one hundred and twenty degree angles from a center spike. The blades were honed to deadly precision; sharp enough to cut loose yarn with a gentle stroke. The hooks angled back wickedly, and the blade extended to a needle point two inches further. The top of the hilt had six evenly placed metal prongs, so the dagger could be held at any angle and guard effectively. The pommel was a hollow spike which could mutilate chunks of flesh, but also made it possible to mount the dagger on a pole; making it a tri-bladed spear.

He placed the blade back into the reinforced leather sheath, then placed the bundle into his satchel.

Michael could see lamps lit in windows far above the ground. He didn't know where he was until he read a sign: _Welcome to the capital city of Jenoth._

The runaway prince smiled and ran a hand through his dark, blood-streaked hair.

Chapter 2: A New Beginning

Michael's heart quickened as he ran for the city. His feet barely touched the ground as he approached, but then he hesitated at the looming gate. He had never been by himself before, and now he was alone. He ran away, and now Topaz was dead. There was no one left.

Weariness was taking over, but he had no bed to rest on. With nowhere else to go, the prince laid down in an alley to sleep, when something sharp drove into his cheek. He groaned and pulled the dart out of his ear, tossing it aside. Then a thought crossed his mind. _I don't want to be suspected as the prince._

Michael grasped in the dark for the dart. He pulled the steel tip out of the projectile and carefully used the grip of his sword to bend it into a round shape. He pushed the open steel ring back into the hole in his right ear then squeezed it closed.

A ring in the right ear was the mark of a released slave. When the slave is still working for his or her master, the ring was a straight rod. Straight, it symbolized poverty and weakness; but when it was bent round it symbolized strength and freedom. No man or woman would ever be able to legally own a released slave who had a ring in the right ear. The piercing was an accident, but Michael realized that it may help disguise him.

Thoughts were racing through his mind, but finally, sleep took over his mind.

When Michael awoke, the streets were flooded with people. Tall, short, fat, skinny, all were very wealthy—but among the crowded streets, he could see a uniform he recognized. _A guard!_ Michael ducked into the crowd so he wouldn't be seen.

The ripped piece of cloth fell off his head and to the ground when he crouched behind a tall man. When the guard was finally out of sight, he came out of the crowd. He stood for a minute, until somebody bumped into him.

"Move!" the man yelled.

"Sorry," Michael replied quietly.

"Stupid boy," the man muttered, walking away.

Michael turned and read a hand-painted sign: _Weapon Shop; now hiring apprentice smiths or other workers._

Michael walked inside. Dozens of shelves lined the walls from the floor to the ceiling. On those shelves were many weapons that ranged from bows to swords, daggers, maces, axes, spears and small knives.

There was an empty bin in the center of the room and a rack above the door. "Hello?" he asked, "anybody here?" There was no reply.

He was about to leave when something caught his eye. A blade crafted with a master's skill rested on a plaque behind the sales counter. The pointed guard was made from gold and silver; the gold in the center where the blade joined, and the silver made up the usable guard. The gold was studded with polished pearls. Steel and leather coiled down the grip and ended at the silver pommel. The pommel was formed like a wolf's head with opened jaws. A diamond gleaming with every hue imaginable rested between the silver teeth of the beast.

"It's not for sale," boomed a deep voice behind him.

Michael leaped and fumbled for his sword. He turned around to strike, then realized there was no threat. "Y-you startled me," he said as his eyes fell on an enormous man, whose arms looked as if they could pull a tree out of the ground. He had a bush of gray hair and a shaggy black beard.

"That's quite the bump you've got there," he said pointing at the wound on Michael's head. The man's eyes drifted to Michael's sword, then back to his head. "How'd that happen?"

"I hit my head."

"That's obvious," the man replied, apparently interested in hearing the rest of the tale.

"I was playing...tag...with my friends, and I hit my head off the corner of a building."

"I see," said the man, furrowing his brow and scratching his chin. "So, did you just come to talk?" he asked with a sudden sharpness in his voice.

"No, sir," replied Michael. "I read your sign. I need work."

"I need a name in order to hire you. What's yours?"

"Kyle. And yours?"

"I'm Reno, your new boss."

"What?"

"You heard me. Now go get washed up, I'll bring you a clean shirt." The man looked at Michael's bloodied shirt and pointed up the stairs behind an opened door. "There's a room down the hall at the top of the stairs with a washtub and some buckets filled with water. Only use what you need; I don't feel like walking to the river today."

Michael walked up the stairs, each one creaking in protest at the slightest pressure. There was a hall at the top of the stairs with two doors on either side and a fifth door at the end of the narrow hallway. He walked over and pushed the heavy black curtain aside, revealing a small room with a window at the back.

Although he was not thrilled with the lack of privacy, he filled the metal tub half full with the water from the wooden buckets and stripped down to bathe. When Michael dunked his hair into the small washtub, it swirled with streaks of red and sent off the pungent metallic odor of blood. He poured the water out the window into the back alley when he was finished. Redressing himself in his brown wool pants, he left the room and put on his new shirt and leather apron. It was a loose fit, but it was clean, and for that he was grateful.

Reno came up to him. "Have you ever worked with metal before?"

"No," he lied. He could not risk being found out by his knowledge. "Will you teach me?"

"I suppose, but you will not actually be making weapons. It takes years of practice." He took a hammer and a chunk of iron over to a hot furnace. Michael was lost in his thoughts, only faintly hearing the ringing of metal against metal. He felt a lump in his throat as his memories shifted from his mother and father, to the echoed thud as Topaz landed on the rock bottom of the earth's mouth-like gorge. He wondered if he had made a mistake in running away.

Reno continued through the processes of heating and hammering several times until he had a quality steel blade in front of him.

When the work was done, Reno looked to at the blade. "It isn't good enough for the market; it would take more time to make a proper blade." The piece of metal sizzled as he dunked it in the tank of water beside him.

Michael could tell that Reno was worried about something, although he could not tell what. "Boss—" Michael would have asked what the problem was, but thought better of it. Instead he said, "What should I do?"

"Call me Reno. I don't do well with the whole _boss_ thing. As for what you can do, sort the weapons on those shelves. Just put swords and knives together, then hang the spears and halberds on the racks over there. The maces go in that bin with the grips pointing up, wouldn't want anyone to hurt themselves when they reach in," He smiled and went to the back.

Michael started to work, thinking of the possibilities for his new life. _Soon, I might be Kyle the Blacksmith; I will never have to be anything more unless I want to. No more royal balls, no more dressing in fancy clothes. Now I can be myself, the way I want to be._ When he drifted away from his thoughts, he had already sorted all the swords. He continued on to the spears, then to the maces.

"Reno!" he hollered.

"What?" Reno asked.

"I'm finished," Michael stated. It was true, for he had sorted every weapon in the shop.

"Impossible!" The smith said, looking around as if it were a dream. "You were only working for thirty minutes! How did you do it?"

"I suppose it is because I enjoy seeing such skillfully crafted weapons."

"Hey, Kyle you should go home and rest for the ni—"

"Don't have one," Michael cut him off before he finished. Michael nearly cringed at the use such unrefined speech.

"One what?"

"A home," said the young prince.

"You mean you live on the streets?" Reno asked, his voice softened with sympathy.

"Yes," Michael replied sadly. "I asked for work because I need to feed myself."

"How old are you? Thirteen? Fourteen?"

"Fifteen," Michael lied, and headed for the door.

"I have an extra room upstairs. You're welcome to stay if you'd like."

"You don't mind?" asked Michael as excitement welled up inside him.

"Not at all, I get lonely. And besides, I've always wanted a son. Not that I will claim you, unless that is your wish," Reno laughed.

"Thank you so much! You won't regret it, I'll work extra hard!"

"Don't get too thrilled, I don't know if you can stay for long," The man rubbed his sleepy eyes with the tips of his fingers. "Now it's time for you to get to sleep. We'll need to get you some more clothes tomorrow."

"I can pay for my stay—it doesn't seem right to barge in," Michael said as he pulled a small coin purse from his belt.

"You're not barging in, I invited you. Besides, you are already working your stay," Reno pulled out a piece of yellowed paper. "Now let's see, today you earned five silver pieces. You did well for a first day."

"Thank you," Michael said as he turned his back to open the leather pouch tied around his waist. He added the silver coins to the fifty gold coins he already had.

"Hey, you earned it. If you keep up this working pace, I can take you as my apprentice, and you can take my place when I am gone... well, I'd say that it's about time to finish off the day."

"I agree," said Michael yawning.

"If there's anything I can get for you, don't be shy. Just ask."

"Alright, I will. Thanks Reno, good night."

"Good night, Kyle."

Chapter 3: Street Fight

After a good night's rest, Michael went down the stairs to work. Reno had set two places for breakfast.

"Good morning, Kyle."

"Yeah, it is nice out today."

The smell of fresh eggs hung in the air. Michael's mouth watered at the fragrance. This was the first time he had ever felt the pain of hunger driving into his gut like a sword.

"Hungry?" asked Reno.

"I think so," Michael said, uncertain of what the feeling in his stomach was.

"Sit down and eat!" he exclaimed joyfully. They both sat on old wooden chairs at the round pine table.

Michael was the first to speak. "Why were you so worried last night, about the dagger?"

"Well, I suppose if you're going to stay here I should tell you the truth. I'm the weapon smith for the royal armory. The night before you arrived, a messenger from the castle arrived with an order for ten thousand new weapons to supply the army with, and can't keep up with the demand."

"Hmm."

An awkward silence ensued, until Reno asked, "So, where are you from? I mean, how can someone be as skilled as you at sorting, and reading for that matter, if they had lived on the streets their entire life?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't know where I'm from," he said. Wanting to change the subject to something safer, Michael asked, "What do you want me to do today?"

"We don't work on weekends, so you have the entire day to yourself. You can go out with your friends, but be careful."

Stepping out into the busy street, the crowd pressed Michael into the path of a big man, who tossed him back into the rush of people. There were thousands of them, all hurrying to work, the bank, the market or the tavern.

Suddenly he felt a solid tap on his arm by a thick finger. He turned quickly, and to his horror, there stood a guard.

"You there!" the tall guard demanded Michaels attention, "Have you seen this young man?" he handed Michael a flyer with his picture sketched on it.

"Um...I mean...he...that is...no sir," Michael replied nervously, keeping his face low.

"Hey kid, yes or no answers."

"No!" The prince turned and ran before the man had a chance to ask more. The guard had not recognized him; it may have been because of the old clothes, the piercing, or the fact that he did not have his sword or satchel with him.

Michael was so distracted by the event that he didn't see the person in front of him until they collided.

It was a young man, about eighteen years old. He had broad shoulders and orange hair. "Hey! Watch where you're going!" he said angrily.

"I-it was an accident!" Michael said timidly to the young man.

"Is that so?" the other boy sneered.

Michael started to leave, but the other boy grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

"Nobody pushes me and gets away with it!" he struck his fist on Michael's jaw. The prince immediately jumped and kneed the opponent in the chin, whose head jerked up.

He regained his balance and charged Michael knocking him down.

The older boy swung a rock down, and missed Michael's head by a hair. He swung again and again until he got around Michael's defending arms, splitting the skin on his scalp.

Rage boiled inside the prince. He hooked his feet on the inside of the other boy's knees and grabbed him around the back of the neck. Michael rolled back and pushed with his legs, still holding the boy with his arms, and flipped him over so he landed on top of the red haired boy, pinning the arm which still held the stone to the hard ground. While still holding him down, Michael pressed his other forearm into the boys' throat.

"Don't test me!" Michael spat the words with rage. "Now, if I were you I would drop the rock before you get hurt."

The boy released the stone, and Michael stood and walked away. Something struck him in the back and he dropped to the ground, clutching his lower spine. The orange haired man had thrown the rock at him.

"Rule number one in these parts—always watch your back!" The young man jumped on Michael, who was now sprawled on his back, and started smashing his head back and forth with his clenched fists.

_I need to get him off, now! This is the only thing I can do._ Michael thought reaching for the rock. When he felt it under his hand he grasped it tightly.

"I'm sorry it came to this!" he kneed the other boy between his legs and knocked him out with the rock, leaving an enormous crack that was bleeding at an alarming rate.

The prince knew that if he left the young man there, he would surely die, so he brought him out of the alley.

People gasped and turned their heads in disgust as Michael dragged him through the street.

Finally, he found a medical clinic at the edge of the town. The prince pulled him inside and called for a doctor. When he saw the injured boy, he gasped.

"Aaron! Are you all right?" he turned to Michael. "What happened to my son? Answer me!" The doctor snarled like a father should, given the circumstances. Michael was so distracted with trying to point out the similarities between the two, that he didn't even hear the man.

Aaron has red curly hair, but the doctor has dark brown and rather flat hair. Freckles cover Aaron's pale, oddly shaped face, but the doctor's face is tanned with a small scar on the right cheek. They don't look related at all!

"I asked you a question, and I expect an answer and now!" the short, stout man shouted.

"I can see where he got his charm," Michael retorted. "Well, you see, I got pushed and as a result, I bumped into your brat of a son. That caused a 'Hey! Watch where you're going!' which eventually led up to the fight and—"

"You got in a fight with my son? You insolent little—"

"Hey, I wasn't finished, so shut up!" Michael snapped, pointing a finger sharply at the man. "I started to leave, but he grabbed my shoulder and hit me. Then I kneed him in the jaw. He grabbed a rock, knocked me down and hit me with it. I kicked him off me and slammed him into a wall. I started to leave again, but he threw the rock and attacked me. I grabbed the rock and hit him too hard, I guess."

By now the doctor's tanned face had turned purplish-red with rage. "Get out! And stay away from my son!"
Chapter 4: A Voice in the Night

Night had fallen by the time Michael got back to Reno's house. Candles and lanterns were lit, illuminating the room with a dim glow. Reno was at the table glaring toward Michael.

"I heard that the doctor's son was attacked by a boy with a cheap piercing in his right ear. I think you have some explaining to do."

Michael quickly retold the events that happened during the day, including the encounter with the guard.

Reno seemed convinced by the story. "That makes sense. The doc is so rich that he just counts gold all day, he couldn't care less what his son does."

"He seemed pretty upset when he saw him bleeding to death."

After a moment of silence, Reno spoke. "It seems I never fully thought it through when I decided to let you stay. If I can't trust you to stay out of trouble on your free days, how can I trust you to sleep in my home?"

"But it wasn't my fault! Am I supposed to just let people trample me into the ground? I'm sorry, but that's not what I'm used to. Please, just give me one more chance."

"Here's the deal," Reno paused, thinking of what to say. "...you can stay if you steer clear of Aaron and his father. Am I understood?"

"Yes."

"Then head to bed."

Michael got ready and said good night to Reno, then he went to the spare room.

Hours slowly crept by, but something kept him awake.

Suddenly he heard a noise, like a faint whisper. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, but then he heard a voice creep into his thoughts.

Michael...Michael...answer me.

"Who's there?"

I am Jallana, the first leader of Jenoth.

Michael looked around the room but there was nobody there.

Come to me Michael ...my power is fading quickly...I must see...you... before it is too late.

Michael was hypnotized by the tone of her voice. The rhythm she spoke with was soothing and, as it seemed, magical.

I will guide you to the spot where I rest...please hurry.

A luminous golden ball appeared in the room. It hovered in the air as though it wanted Michael to follow it, so he did.

The golden sphere led him down the stairs and into the kitchen. There was a flash, and the rack of knives disappeared, revealing a secret passageway. The sphere entered it, and Michael followed.

Above the doorway was a strange symbol. It was a four pointed star with a sun in front of it. In the middle of the sun was a crescent moon. The design rested on a green, shield shaped crest.

Torches were set in silver cases on the walls of the tunnel. The walkway was made of gold bricks, each with an emerald stone in the center. The walls were polished marble swirled with black and white, and silver pillars supported the arched ceiling. At the end of the hall was an enormous solid gold door with knockers shaped like lion heads.

Michael pulled the handle and the door slid smoothly on well-oiled hinges. "Hello?" Michael's voice echoed in the huge room.

Roots stuck through the ceiling and vines clung to the walls. In the center of the room were four emerald-green torch flames. A bed was in the middle of the four flames.

"Michael, is that...you?"

"Yes."

"I am Jallana. I have waited long for this moment. Come closer."

Michael slowly walked to her bedside. Looking down at her, he saw a radiant face. Golden hair covered her round head. Sparkling blue eyes showed a great power in her mind. A simple elegant white dress cinched at the waist by a thin golden belt covered her. The links were so close together it appeared to be made of a golden snake—the same symbol that was above the door was on the front of the belt around her waist.

"Give me your hand. There is not much time left," She held out her hand for Michael to hold. He hesitated but then grabbed it. "You must not run away from your destiny—" Jallana coughed and fell back into the bed.

"But what is my destiny?" Michael asked, pulling away from Jallana. "Am I to go back to the castle?"

"If that is what it takes!" she said as thunder cracked.

"But why me? What am I supposed to do?"

"Do you accept it or not?"

"I don't believe in destiny. I choose my own path, and I refuse to let you, or anyone else, dictate my life! That is why I chose to run away from my home behind the castle walls!"

"You cannot run away from this, Michael. This moment will haunt you for eternity, but it is your choice; nobody is dictating that. Magentara needs a hero; it needs you, Michael."

"And what if I say no?"

"Then the world will burn, and you will live the rest of your life knowing that you could have stopped it. You will have to live with the knowledge that you were too selfish and proud to sacrifice your new life to save _everything_."

The prince felt his ears reddening and heat flushed his face. Michael leaned in close and whispered angrily, "Fine, you want my choice? I will save Magentara, but I'm doing it my way."

"You will learn to lean on others for strength. Learn to believe, Michael, and you will succeed."

A flash turned the entire room into a blinding white space. The belt that Jallana wore flew through the air and attached itself to Michael. He screamed in agony and terror as hooks fused it to his waist. He toppled forward and all went silent.

Chapter 5: Accidents

Michael awoke with a start as a golden bird landed on his hand. He swung his hand, and the bird took wing out the window.

What a strange dream...

He tried to pull off the blanket, but it got caught on something.

_What?_ He pulled the cover off and there was the belt. _I thought it was a dream!_

"Kyle! Get down here! It's time for work!" shouted Reno in annoyance.

"Okay, okay. Hold your hammers," he said under his breath. "I'll be down in a minute!" He ran over to a bucket that was hanging on the wall to wake himself up and gasped at the sight of his reflection.

He did not recognize what he saw. There before him was a boy who had wavy dirty blond hair that reached his eyebrows and light brown eyes, and his tanned skin had no scars or blemishes where there used to be. The prince's arms had grown more toned, and he grew two inches in height, now being a little less than six feet tall. His jaw seemed to have widened, and his chin was slightly pointier, giving him a more adult look than what was there before. He still had the bent dart tip in his right ear.

He put on a brown long sleeved shirt to cover his arms and the belt, and tucked it into his pants.

He ran down the stairs to see Reno. When he reached the kitchen, Reno was setting a place for his breakfast.

"Wow! What did you do to your hair?" he exclaimed.

"Um—nothing it just sort of happened. Are you angry?"

"Not unless you used my cleaning supplies to bleach it."

"No worry there," Michael assured, then he realized something. "I thought that we didn't work on weekends."

"We don't. You slept all through Sunday!"

"Oh," replied Michael quietly. "And you didn't try to wake me?"

"I felt it best not to disturb you. A boy does need his space, after all."

The pair finished their food and went to work. Reno hammered at steel in the forge while Michael shined the weapons and swept the floors. The first few minutes of polishing were fine, but after a while Michael felt a strange twinge in his stomach. He vigorously rubbed a cloth over a blade, when he noticed that the sword was getting warm. He touched the side with bare fingertips. It burned hotter and hotter, until Michael released the blade. It clattered on the floor, and Michael saw that the area where his fingers had been was red and melting.

He decided to sweep the floor. That went well enough, until he accidentally bumped a wooden crate with his elbow and cracked it open. Scraps of steel spilled onto the floor loudly.

"What happened?" Reno asked with concern when he saw Michael picking up the heavy chucks of refined metal.

Nothing! I was just sweeping and I knocked the crate over," Michael lied.

Reno looked at the crate, a hole in the side of it, and sighed.

"I think you need some fresh air, Kyle," He pointed to the back door. Without arguing, Michael went out.

The alley was shaded, but not too dark to see clearly. He began to express his anger and frustration, pounding on the wall, shouting at the air, stomping his feet, behaving like a spoiled child. He shouted at the top of his lungs, as he cracked the ground with his stomping.

Michael heard a familiar voice. "Well, would you look who it is," it said.

"Aaron! I figured you would stay away from me after I almost killed you."

"Hah! You were lucky. I hate lucky street brats!" he spat angrily.

"Why would you hate luck? Is it because you could never _be_ lucky? You weren't lucky enough to be born to a father that loves you more than his money, so you think everyone else is better off?" Michael grit his teeth, trying to remain calm. "Why are you even here in the first place?"

"Word on the street is that Reno found himself a little hireling. I just put two and two together."

"Oh, so you can add? That _is_ impressive."

"Fight me! That is if you're not a coward."

"You aren't even worth my time," Michael said reaching for the door handle.

Aaron grabbed his shirt and held out a knife. "Too bad you don't have a choice! I _will_ kill you!"

Aaron slashed the knife at Michael's stomach. Aaron missed Michael's body, but sliced open a chunk of his shirt. The golden belt glittered in the sunlight.

"Nice belt for an ex-slave, I'll be sure to take that before I carve you!" He swung the knife at Michael's throat. The prince quickly dodged the attack, jumped and kicked at Aaron. The toe of his boot glowed red as it planted into the man's gut.

Aaron screamed as his shirt caught on fire. He frantically rolled in the dirt. "I'm going to kill you!" he shouted after he put out the fire.

"It was an accident, I can't control it!"

Aaron raised himself to one knee and threw the knife at Michael, but the blade danced to the side before it reached him and stabbed into an old crate. Michael grabbed the knife and threw it back, driving it through Aaron's leg.

Aaron snarled and pulled it out. It was covered in blood. His eyes were like a fire of pure hatred and anger. He threw it as hard as he could at Michael's head.

Michael knew that he could not dodge this attack. In a fraction of a second he would be dead. He raised his hands in reflex, although it would do little against the blade.

One... two... three seconds went by. _I should be dead right now!_ Michael dared to look up. He saw Aaron staring at him in disbelief. There, floating in the air inches away from his hand was the knife. He was as awestruck as Aaron.

"I'm getting out of here!" Aaron said limping away. Michael slowly reached for the knife hovering above his hand. He jabbed it into the wall and went into the house.

Reno was just about to go out to check on him when Michael stopped him. "You don't want to go out there!"

"And why not?"

"Look, I'm not going to lie to you. I got in another fight with Aaron. He came out with a knife and attacked me," He showed Reno the cut in his shirt, hiding the belt with his arm. He told the rest of the story, leaving out the details of the fire and the floating knife. "I swear it was an accident! I didn't want to fight with him, I was coming back inside."

"Kyle, with you everything is an accident! You get in fights, you manage to destroy a crate made with thick wooden planks, and I'm sure that that damaged blade was also one of your accidents. They were all _your_ mistakes! It seems that you're just an accident waiting to happen. How can I trust you?" Reno paused trying to calm his temper.

"I guess that I'm just more accident prone than most people," Michael replied softly and went up to his room, where he stayed all through the day until dinner was ready.

Reno seemed more stressed than usual; he cut up his meat with clenched fists and tense muscles. All was silent for a long time, until Michael spoke.

"What's wrong? Are you angry with me?" the prince asked, keeping his eyes locked on his food.

"No," Reno said as he placed his knife and fork on the table on either side of his plate.

"Why are you angry then?"

"I'm not angry!" he fumed.

Michael was about to speak again, but he thought better of it.

"I'm sorry. I am under a lot of pressure right now. I have an order to make more swords and shields than I ever have been required to forge before. My work for the armory is even harder now that all the other smiths have left this city."

"What happens if you don't meet the deadline?"

"They fire me, more or less," Reno said with a shiver.

"The king would never—" Michael began, but cut himself short.

"A new decree was handed out to all of the merchants yesterday while you were out. The laws have changed greatly, and every business not directly aiding the military have been shut down by the king. It is as if there is an entirely different person on the throne," Reno's words drifted off as if he were in a trance. "But I should not trouble one so young with politics."

"Do you doubt that you can do it?" Michael asked worriedly.

"I can manage. You, on the other hand, have _got_ to keep yourself out of trouble until then."

Michael smiled at Reno's now easy tone. "I'm tired; I'm going to go upstairs now."

"One other thing, Kyle," Reno said.

"What?" He asked, taking in a mouthful of water.

"That ring in your right ear. It isn't real, I can tell."

Michael coughed violently, choking on his drink. _I've been discovered!_

"You can trust me. Whatever you are running from, I can help."

"I'm not running from anything," Michael lied.

"Tell me the truth _."_

Michael hesitated _. I can't risk being put out for being dishonest, but I also cannot afford to tell the whole truth._ Then he answered, "I was a slave to my father. I made this ring after I ran away so that if he ever found me, he wouldn't be able to take me back."

Reno scratched his beard. "If it isn't real, it holds no power. It is no more than a useless trinket."

"I know, but it has served me well since I have worn it."

"I could make a real ring for you, if you wish. Just know that it will be permanent," Reno offered.

"You would do that?" Michael asked sincerely.

"Of course I would. If it means that you can continue to work without fear of your father retrieving you, a simple ring is a small price to pay."

"Thank you!" Michael grinned.

"You're welcome, now head onto your bed. You need your rest. I will work on your ring tomorrow. Good night, Kyle."

"Good night father— I mean Reno," Michael corrected awkwardly and ran up the stairs.

Reno smiled and headed back to the furnace.

Chapter 6: Witch Hunt

Michael woke up early in the morning as someone broke down the front door. He heard at least twenty metal feet clank into the house.

"Where is the boy?" asked a loud male voice.

"He is sleeping. If you want, you may come back later."

"We are here to arrest him, not to sit and have tea! Now be a good old man and tell me where he is."

Soldiers!

"What is his crime? And don't say fighting; a man must fight to defend himself. It is the way of life in these parts."

"A man does not need to use magic! Now tell us or we will be forced to persuade you," There was no answer. Michael cringed as he heard the ripping sound of metal hitting flesh and a man yelp in agony.

"Find him yourself," answered Reno behind heavy gasps. Everything went silent for a moment.

"Search the house!" the officer shouted.

Michael quickly grabbed his belongings, including a bow he had bought during his time at Reno's. With slight hesitation he leaped from the window, landing unhurt on the street below.

"There!" shouted a guard behind his gold plated helm. He tried to get out through the window, but the bulky armor prevented him from doing so.

The other guards scrambled around, trying to pull their commander out of the window.

"You fools! After him!" They stomped down the stairs to the back door. Michael rounded the turn just as the guards burst through.

"There! Get him!"

The streets were flooded in darkness and silence. The moon hung over the edge of a building, threatening to fall behind as the eastern side of the sky-band was lit with the hues of the coming sunrise. It was a long, terrifying run, but he made it half way through the city.

Suddenly, he saw a huge structure rise in the town square. _Oh no!_ He thought as the truth seeped in. This was a burning post, for him!

Something whizzed past his head and clattered on the stone path, then another. He looked back at the ground to see what they were. They were arrows—fast, silent and deadly.

The archers were lined up along the entire wall, most likely to light the fire with flaming arrows. He ran through the city at strange angles, trying to dodge all the arrows, but it was impossible. One stuck into his right shoulder, another grazed his leg.

Pain shot through his entire body as he pulled out the arrow. The shaft was blackened wood with the royal creature of legend, a flaming horse with wings, engraved into it with intricate detail. The head was iron, with five hooked blades that reminded him of a cruel mountain called Hytaran Thira—in modern language, Highfiend's Hand. This was a custom forged arrow, probably a member of his father's Elite force.

When he finally got out of range, he had been hit three times. One arrow stuck in his right shoulder, one had grazed his side, and the other grazed his leg. The prince grimaced as he pulled the shaft from his arm.

His fight was not over, however; three guards all carrying broadswords and iron bucklers stood at the gate of the main city.

Michael stared in fear as they glared back in anger. He knew that he couldn't get out without a fight, which unfortunately he had very little chance of winning.

The prince drew back his bowstring, aiming an arrow. He didn't want to hurt anyone, although they clearly wanted to hurt him. Michael was about to send the dart for someone's neck when something caught his eye. It was a barrel of lantern oil.

He quickly changed his aim to the spout of the barrel and released an arrow. He intended to break it off and cause an oil slick, but the arrow head began to glow red hot and the shaft ignited into a flying inferno.

_No! There's another count of magic,_ He thought as the arrow hit the barrel and ignited it. Soon the ground was lit by a giant fire, fed by the stream of oil.

He charged for the gate at full speed. All the guards stood in the way with their swords drawn. Michael drew his own sword and readied himself for an attack.

"Attack one at a time and wear him down—he is to be captured and burned at the stake!" the largest guard shouted.

The smallest guard reacted first. He was fast but not fast enough. He swung his sword like a madman, with no skill at all. Michael dodged every blow and returned an accurate strike.

As the man fell to the ground clutching his bleeding chest, the next guard stepped up. He was strong and accurate. During this duel, it took more skill to dodge and counter. Michael became aggravated and wished for an easier way to defeat him.

Remembering the flaming arrow, he thought of using magic instead. In his head, he decided to combine energy with his sword. Suddenly the blade sparked and shimmered like lightning. The belt sent heat up to his head and he began to stagger.

The guard attacked, but luckily missed as Michael staggered slightly. When he finally came to his senses, Michael swung his sword, which was now crackling with yellow strands light. The guard blocked with his iron buckler.

The shield began to spark and glow, the same as Michael's sword. As if in slow motion, the lightning traveled up his arm and over his entire body, blasting the guard backwards, where he sprawled out and began shaking uncontrollably.

The third guard stepped in to take over. He was of monstrous size. "You think you can take me down?" asked the guard mocked.

"I was planning on it," Michael said.

And with that, the battle began. The sound of ringing steel piled on top of the crackling blaze.

The fire was still well lit and powerful. It surrounded them, causing deadly heat. Oil also surrounded them, making a path for the fire to its next victim, and that was Michael.

"Looks like you're going to die in a fire after all, though it is a shame that I couldn't have watched the prince suffer at the stake!" he glanced at Michael, whose face twisted in horror. "Yes, I know all about your little secret. I know about the belt, runaway, and the source of your power," He grinned sinisterly behind his helm.

"Who are you?" Michael asked with anger welling up inside.

Didn't she tell you?" he laughed. "Oh, she must have died from that poison that I gave her before she had the chance. Well, I might as well tell you, even though it won't matter after you're dead," He snickered and pulled off his helm revealing cruel red eyes and pointed teeth. His black hair was spiked and twisted. There were small pointed spikes poking out of his neck behind his hair. His facial features were sharp, and emphasized the malice in his eyes. His ears were angled back and pointed like sharp daggers.

"I am the one who has killed your mother and father. The one whose name will make all the people of Magentara scream for mercy! I am Malumous, soon to be High King over all the land. I'm so sorry I can't watch you die, but I must go back to _my_ throne," The fire was closing in on them quickly. Malumous slunk backwards out of the blaze, leaving Michael behind.

_I need to put that fire out!_ Michael thought to himself frantically. He knew that to pour water on the oil would only make it worse, as the oil would float on top of the water, spreading the flames even further. _Wind!_

Michael closed his eyes and visualized a strong wind coming from the north. A moment later he felt it. He opened his eyes and the flames were being tossed in the wind, threatening to spread.

Michael concentrated, spreading his hands out. The winds divided and spiraled around him like tornadoes, swallowing up the flames. The fires collected in the center of the cyclones, until they sputtered out of existence.

Collapsing, Michael felt the heat from the belt like before, only this time it was more intense. He felt as if thousands of tiny white hot needles were being driven into the back of his skull. His eyelids felt heavy and his entire body ached. His mind went blank as he hit his head on the cold stone road.

Michael woke up as a hand grabbed his left arm. His reflexes took over and he brought his fist against the guards jaw with a loud crack. The man's head lurched to the side and he went limp. Michael grimaced, staggered to his feet, and looked at his hands in shock—fear, even.

_I killed a grown man with my bare hands,_ he thought as he sprinted for the forest, where he could hide. A hard lump formed in his throat, but he refused to shed a single tear into the night.

Chapter 7: Tree, Cave, Spy

The sun was high in the sky when Michael woke. The trees blocked the sunlight in spots, causing pools of light to pour down between the leaves.

Hours passed, and Michael did not move. He was still troubled by the events of the previous day.

A small spider ran up his arm and he squished it. Then he realized that he was sitting in the middle of a large earth-spider web. Michael always hated spiders, and earth-spiders were among the worst. Fully grown, they were the size of a grown man's face, not counting the legs. Also, there was only one gender.

He remembered reading about it in the palace library. _A single bite would cause the skin to slowly turn gray and crack as the muscles locked. By the time the victim died, it would appear to be made of stone, and would remain as such indefinitely. The bite of a full grown earth-spider contains eggs, which hatch and grow inside the carcass until they are ready to hunt their own prey. The mandibles each have two tubes—one for poison, and the other to carry the eggs from the organs where they are produced to the bite wound..._

Michael looked around for the spider and saw it curled into a tight ball, asleep. He had hoped it was small, but he knew better. This one was fully grown; its brown and gray exoskeleton would be as hard as slate. The only weak point would be its mouth, which would only be accessible when it was about to bite.

Michael would not be able to move without waking the creature, but he did not want to wait for it to wake up on its own.

He suddenly got an idea. He would have to think very quickly for it to work. Michael thought his plan over carefully, and then willed it.

The webs around the resting spider snapped up suddenly around the creature and closed, holding it in a squirming ball. It could not get its legs free to cut the webs, since they were curled under its huge body.

While it was still trapped, Michael broke away from the thick webbing, cutting some with his hunting knife. He got as far away as quickly as he could.

Before noon, his hunger was almost unbearable. He needed nourishment, but where could he find it in a place like this? A sound in the tree caught his attention. He looked up to see a large squirrel hopping around from branch to branch.

He drew his bow and fired and arrow. The projectile flew through the air at amazing speed and plunged into the animal. The squirrel tumbled down to the forest floor. Now all he needed to do was cook it.

Michael moved deeper into the forest so his fire would not be spotted from the city. The forest was huge, and the further in he went, the larger the animals got.

He found a clearing and started to gather wood. When he piled the sticks neatly and prepared the squirrel to cook he sat down and thought. He needed something to spark a flame with. He pointed his index finger at the pile and concentrated on the thought of fire.

Michael felt stupid for trying, and was about to give up when the tip of his finger began to glow red until a thread of orange light shot out. The logs began to smoke, but they didn't light. A sharp pain struck his heart and his body went stiff. He clutched his chest and uttered a silent scream. More than a minute passed before he was able to move again.

Then he grabbed a stick and sat on a stump to think. Everything he had done so far was either instinct, or _... I used what was already in existence..._

Michael held the stick then thought of all the warmth of the air pooling to the other end of the stick. He felt cool as the heat left the air near his body; soon after, the stick popped and flared into a flame. Michael felt tired, but it soon passed.

He tied the squirrel to a stick and roasted it. After the squirrel was cooked he stamped out the fire. Michael quietly ate while sitting on the hard stump.

After his short meal he sat at the base of a tree to rest. As he leaned his head back against the tree, he heard a hollow metal clank. He turned around and tapped the tree with his knuckle.

This tree is metal!

Michael held his breath, admiring the oddity. He ran his fingers up the rough metal bark. Suddenly the pattern changed. It looked normal, but he could feel the form of an arrow shape.

Michael turned his head in the direction that the arrow head faced. All he could see was a large boulder covered in vines and moss. He felt drawn to the mountainous stone. Following his curiosity, he walked over to the rock and started pulling off the vines.

Soon there was a visible hole between the vines. He kept pulling the plants out of the way, and within moments the hole was large enough for him to reach his arm and head in.

When he finally removed the last vines, he saw a gaping cave mouth. The stalactites and stalagmites stuck out like teeth on a bear. The path was steep and slippery, and small subterranean creatures scuttled about in the dark.

Michael hesitated, but the temptation for an adventure overpowered him, and he faded into the mouth of the cave.

Inside were various types of quartz, and there were even sections of the wall with diamonds embedded in them, indicating that this was once a fire hill. Soon the cave was at a vertical drop and he had to adjust his sword and carefully climb down in order to keep from falling several feet, breaking a leg or worse.

He grabbed a loose spot, and a rock fell, echoing as it hit the walls on the way down. He swallowed nervously.

When he reached the bottom, he found himself in a familiar cavern. All the roots, stalactites and stalagmites were reflected in a green glow. In the center of the room there were four green torches and an empty bed. Michael realized that this was the cave of Jallana.

Sounds were coming from the hole behind him. "Wow!" a strange voice echoed down the hole.

The prince walked over to the hole where the voice came from. Just as he peered up the hole, two feet smashed into his face. Michael's lip split and blood dripped down his chin.

Assuming it was a guard, Michael jumped to his feet, sword drawn.

"No! Please don't kill me! I didn't mean to kick you, honest!" the boy said.

"I demand to know who you are, where you came from, and why you have followed me; if you refuse to tell the truth, I will be forced to execute you on the spot!" Michael said. _I just sounded exactly like my father._ Michael swallowed dryly, remembering Malumous' words.

"My name is Ryan! I live in these woods alone, and I only came because I saw you hunt and light the wood on fire!" The boy crouched awkwardly with his head between his legs, covering his black hair almost as if debris was falling from the ceiling.

"You can stand up, I won't hurt you," Michael said as he sheathed his sword.

"You mean that you're not mad that I was spying on you?" Ryan rose to his feet, staring down at Michael at full height.

Ryan stood over six feet tall and appeared to weigh just over one hundred pounds. He had dark brown eyes and was incredibly thin. Michael assumed he was flexible as well, given the tight ball he was previously curled in. His jaw was narrower than Michael's and his chin was rounder; spots of acne dotted his oval face. His strangest feature, though, was the huge scar centered on the back of his head.

"No, I'm not angry, but next time mind your own business!"

"You mean, you're just going to walk away and forget that we ever met!?"

"That would be ideal," Michael said and walked toward the wall, intending to climb up.

There was suddenly a low rumble, and huge boulders rained down into the tunnel they had climbed down.

Michael's heart collapsed as if it were under the wreckage. They were trapped.

Chapter 8: Sphergol

Three days had passed since Michael and Ryan had been trapped in the cave of Jallana. Somehow, the door that Michael had used when he entered the chamber the first time was gone. There were caves above them that let air in and out, but they could not be reached. They were tired, hungry and hopeless. Michael walked over to the bed and sat beside it.

"Why did you do this to me?" he said with tears in his eyes. "Why did you make me an outcast? Why did you put this this curse on me? What did I do?"

"What are you talking about and to whom you are speaking?" Ryan asked walking up to him.

"It's your fault we're trapped in here! If you hadn't come, I could have climbed up the hole, but you showed up and now were trapped!" Michael slowly stood and unsheathed his blade.

"What are you talking about? If you hadn't used magic to light that fire, I wouldn't have followed you!"

Michael swung his sword in an upward arc and clipped a lock of hair off Ryan's head.

"What's wrong with you!? Are you trying to decapitate me?"

"If we can't get out of here, I might as well practice my sword play before we both die!" shouted Michael.

"You've gone mad!" Ryan exclaimed, throwing his hand in the air and screaming as he ran around in circles.

" _Enough!"_ This was a new voice. "Stop fighting _immediately_!"

A golden glowing sphere had appeared in the middle of the room above the bed. The voice was obviously female. What surprised Michael the most, however, was that this was the same floating sphere than led him to Jallana's resting place just a few nights before.

After Michael calmed down, the sphere began to speak again. "That's better. Now, let us deal with the matter at hand. Ryan, you have seen this boy use magic, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"And do you promise to tell no one about what you have witnessed?"

"Yes."

"Then it is settled."

"What? He can just walk free after seeing my powers?" Michael protested.

"You need to understand that your power is not your own, it was given to you by Jallana. You are a weak _human_ , and until you have strength on your own, that belt and myself are all you have to your name."

"But what about—"

"When you were in the ally with Aaron and the knife stopped in mid-air, it was me."

"Oh," Michael felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. Wanting to change the subject, he asked, "Who are you?"

"Oh, how thoughtless of me; I am Sphergol. I was Jallana's magic sphere. Now that you know that you would be dead if not for me, will you listen to what I have to say?"

"I guess."

"Good. This is the reason you have been chosen to wear the belt. A long time ago, in the very center of this world, Magentara was a single, powerful city." She paused, as if she had forgotten what to say.

"What do you mean by a single city?" Michael asked.

"I mean that before the time of Jenoth, Sethont, Acosh, Marianatha, and the Defre-Lanc, it was all simply Magentara; one nation, one province, one city. Buried deeply under many of the plains are the bones of that great city. But that was over a thousand years ago."

"How did it end?"

"A long time ago the king, Alenad was killed during a rebellion which in turn resulted in the division of the five kingdoms, as you have read in the legend books. What is not recorded, however, is that he has a long lineage after him.

"Alenad had a son, though the name is not on record. He also had a brother, but he fled over the ocean to the south and disappeared. He was called Tyrastin, and was father to a man named Neil.

"After his uncle was murdered and his father left the continent, Neil fled into a forest. He was twenty years old when it happened. He was in hiding for three years, until he met Jallana.

"They married, and she had a son, named Brian. Neil, Jallana and Brian lived together in peace for fourteen years.

"One day, Neil used a spell on a round stone and created the Magic Spheres. Although he intended to make a thing of beauty, the intelligence of the Spheres started a chain reaction which would bring the war, the great city, and even magic to an end.

"Several of my kind turned from our peaceful nature and pursued masters who wished only for chaos and power.

"One of these Spheres, Spherblac, met a man called Sharvaus. He told him where Neil was, and Sharvaus went and killed him, with intent of capturing all of the Spheres for himself.

"This man's act attracted Malumo, an evil creature that has red eyes, pointed teeth and spines the whole way down its massive, muscular back. Little more is known about Malumo, save that Malumo and Sharvaus made a blood oath and merged, forming a hideous man-creature, now known as Malumous."

Michael's mind flashed back to when he saw Malumous, and he cringed.

"Before Jallana and Brian fled, Jallana grabbed the royal belt off of Neil's body. She cast an enchantment on the belt so that nobody could remove it but herself or one of her descendants. The enchantment wove magic into the belt that would be able to bestow additional power on the next wearer.

"All the while the war raged on and they needed someone to stop it. Jallana told Brian to stay in a dormant fire hill and she went to battle.

"She was a fierce warrior; she singlehandedly slew seven hundred men and took another three hundred as prisoners. Sadly, several villages were destroyed and innocent lives lost under her command.

"This great slaughter offended the Being who had given the people power, and it resulted in the fall of magic. The Being allowed each of the royal belts to remain, and two Magic Spheres. He created foul beasts, such as the Earth-spider, to remind the world of our fall from prosperity. Great sections of the city were destroyed by strange explosions. Many blocks were even swallowed by the earth itself; said to have been given to the Highfiend for his kingdom.

"Jallana went back to the secret cavern, but nobody was there. She made that her home. Under the Being's instruction, Jallana crafted torches and a bed in the middle of this very room and laid here; waiting for the day the belt would be needed.

"As for Brian, he was married and with children. His roots travel down for several generations until we meet Kenneth. These names should be sounding familiar to you now, prince.

"Kenneth had two children. His son was called Landon and his daughter was Kadrean, who disappeared at the age of fourteen.

"Landon took the throne and married a woman named Sallentia. They had a son and called him...Michael." Sphergol paused and started to glow brighter before continuing. "Do you understand? You were chosen because you are the last known descendent of the first royal bloodline. You are the rightful ruler of this land, and it is your duty to cleanse the land of evil and restore peace."

Michael was shocked, and Ryan stared at him with wide eyes.

"What? You're Michael? You are the runaway prince!" said Ryan. "Why would you give that up for... for this?"

"That place was a prison to me! You can't even imagine what it was like! I couldn't go back now even if I wanted to!" Michael shouted in rage and punched the wall, splintering the stone under his fists.

Sphergol stepped in. "Michael! Calm yourself."

"Being trapped in here is driving me mad!"

"Trapped? You think you're trapped in here? Child, you must be mad!" Sphergol spat the words.

"You mean," Ryan asked, "that there is a way out of here?"

"Well of course."

"Where is it?" Michael said.

"Go punch that wall over there with all your strength, and a passage will open."

"You mean this wall? Alright, here goes!" with all his strength he threw his fist at the wall and splintered it four feet deep. There was a sharp crack as the bones in his hand broke.

"I'm sorry, but I meant there," Sphergol floated over to a space a few feet to the right of the gaping hole, "Now what will you do, you broke your hand?"

"You told me to hit it as hard as I could, so I did! Now my hand is useless, thanks to you," His hand hung loosely by his side, swelling and purpling.

"Well, look on the bright side, you broke through the wall," Sphergol said.

"Hey Sphergol, can I ask you a favor?" asked Michael. "Can you please go and see if Reno is alright? I would appreciate it."

"Oh, I suppose. Be back in a moment." The Magic Sphere disappeared.

Ryan approached Michael. "So," he said, "you're the prince? You have been missing for weeks."

"Well I don't care. The only thing for me there is being locked up in the castle. The castle is my prison," He sat on the ground and held his broken hand in his lap. "Please, keep it between us, will you?"

"Sure. I mean, it is your secret."

"Kyle!" This was a voice that Michael recognized. He didn't even have a chance to turn around before enormous arms wrapped around him. "I thought I'd never see you again!" It was Reno.

Michael pulled free and turned around to see his old employer and friend. "Reno, I missed you! How did you escape?"

"When the guards went to search the house, they left me unattended. I quietly slipped out and stitched my wounds. I have been in hiding ever since."

"It was by mere chance that I found Reno," Sphergol said. "He snuck back into his shop to get some of his valuables before traveling to Marianatha."

Reno placed a hand on Michael's shoulder. "She said you had something urgent to tell me."

"I needed to tell you that I am leaving Jenoth; forever. I am going to seek out the Defre-Lanc and join with them. It is my best chance to destroy Malumous."

"Well," said Reno "you're not going alone. If you want me to stay here and make weapons all day, you've got another thing coming. There are more important things to worry about."

"What are you talking about?" Michael asked.

"I am wanted for aiding in the escape of a dark magician. I am on the run, just like you; I even brought food and new weapons," He said pulling a cloth bundle out of his pack. He un-wrapped it and held up the object inside. It was a battle-axe with a blackened steel handle and a black blade; the sharp edges were red. The handle had a red ribbon wrapped around it. "This is my axe. And this is Sonya. I named her after my wife," He held up the sword with the wolf-head pommel and steel blade. It was cased in a royal blue sheath with golden vines entangling it. "And I pass it down to you, Kyle," He handed the sword to Michael.

"It would be a shame to see such a finely crafted weapon become damaged," Sphergol said. "Let me see it for a moment," Michael released the blade and it began to float in mid-air.

A blue light appeared and ran up and down the blade on each side. When the light disappeared the edges of the blade were gleaming and transparent like diamonds and the hilt shone with a new radiance. The sword was more beautiful than before, and even more deadly.

"How can a sword have a diamond edge?" Reno asked.

This is not diamond," Michael said as he felt the clear edge. It was malleable under his fingers. "It's too soft."

"You are correct, it is a magical substance. The liquid gem is soft and bendable. However, when there is contact with another hard object, say a sword or a shield, it hardens and becomes virtually indestructible. It also vibrates sharply, enabling it to cut through most armor as if it were fresh cheese."

"So, it is rare then?" Michael asked, bending the soft edge with his thumb.

"Extremely! Only we Magic Spheres can create it. I suppose that the only other remaining member of my kind, Spherblac, has created an entire range of weapons for his master by now. Anything can be lined with it, if we have the energy to do so. Are we ready to leave yet?"

"No, not yet," Reno said, "I brought something else for you," he pulled a steel ring from his pocket. There were two pieces; one was a fifth of the ring, and then the rest.

"What is that for?" Ryan asked.

"To mark my freedom," Michael took the pieces and looped the larger through his ear.

"How are you going to meld them together?" Reno asked.

"I can do that with ease," Sphergol said, "However, this _is_ going to hurt," the small section of the ring floated off of Michael's palm and lined up with the other piece. There was a bright flash and Michael felt as though his earlobe would melt off. "It is done."

The prince felt the weight of the ring in his ear. "Are we ready to leave?"

Everybody agreed, and Michael walked out in front of them, "We will find the Defre-Lanc and join their forces to make Malumous pay for the crimes that he has committed!" Michael exclaimed and the group went through the hole in the wall and into the light of day.

Chapter 9: The Beginning of a Journey

"Do we have to walk?" Ryan complained.

"Yes, we have to walk," Reno replied.

"If you don't like it," Michael said, "then you're welcome to go home." The prince's feet ached, and his blisters were rubbing on the inside of his boots. The group had been walking for a day, and everyone was tired.

"Why couldn't we have bought horses in the city?"

"If we went into the city, they would have killed us all!" Michael said, annoyance clear in his voice. "You don't seem to understand that if they find me I'll be burned at the stake; we all will!"

"But my legs hurt!"

"Who cares? Besides you, nobody," Reno growled, "and don't you dare say _me_. If anybody has a right to complain, it's Kyle. The poor kid's hand is the size of a melon!"

Michael's hand was indeed swollen, though slightly exaggerated by Reno. The fist that Michael used to punch the wall was puffed out and bruised. The prince squeezed it with his good hand and winced as a bone moved .He didn't know if he would ever be able to fight, write, or even ride a new horse. That is, if he could risk the loss of another.

"I'm hungry!" Ryan whined.

"Shut up!" Michael yelled. "Why are you so annoying? I never should have let you come! You can't tell the difference between a horse and a goat, let alone walk without your mouth moving at the same time!"

"Ok, I'll be quiet," Ryan said.

"Good," Michael and Reno said at the same time.

"But I can't see why I can't—"

Michael shoved Ryan, halting further complaint.

About two hours later, Sphergol sensed another presence. "There are people near. I must hide in your mind," A stream of light poured from the center of Sphergol and connected to Michael's forehead. Inch by inch the sphere disappeared into Michael's skull.

"Wow," Michael said staggering.

_Can you hear me Michael?_ A voice asked in his head.

_Y-yes. How did you do that?_ Michael asked.

_By altering my magical structure, I have transferred my energy to your mind, therefore we can communicate through a mental link. That means that we have a mental connection that we can communicate through thought rather than through voice._ She explained.

"Hey Kyle! What just happened?" Reno asked.

"Oh, I'm fine. Sphergol is just hiding in my head," When Reno called him by his fake name, it reminded Michael that he needed to be honest with the man. "Listen, I have something to tell you. My name is not Kyle, it is Michael. I am the Prince of Jenoth."

"I had my suspicions when I saw your sword and tunic when you arrived, but I simply assumed that your father was a nobleman."

"No, I wanted you to believe anything but the truth. I was afraid that you would turn me in if I told you who I actually was."

"Um, guys..." Ryan started.

"Not now Ryan!" Michael yelled. "I figure that since we are starting our long journey, it wouldn't be fair to keep this a secret from you any longer. I have these powers, this magic, because I am destined to save Magentara," Michael said. His stomach clenched when he thought of showing them the belt, and he decided against it.

"Guys!" Ryan screamed at the top of his lungs. "You were so stuck in your conversation that you didn't even notice this kid walk right up to us!" He stepped out of the way to reveal a small boy with black hair.

"Hi," the boy said, looking up at Michael. His eyes were bright blue. He had a leather strap around a shoulder holding up his bow and quiver. His clothes were dark brown, and he had rats, birds, squirrels and other small game tied to his belt, showing his skill at hunting for food and skins. His face still held the round cheeks of youth and his medium length hair hid his ears and swept across his forehead. He was tanned, like almost everybody in Jenoth, and by the looks of his face and body structure, he was in his early teens. "How much did you hear?" Michael asked.

"Enough," he said with a grin. "Enough to know that I want to join you in your 'long journey.' The name's Tristan," He held out his hand, and Michael grabbed it. "Ouch!" Tristan pulled his hand away and looked at his palm. The skin bubbling with blisters.

"If I were you," Michael said threateningly "I would go home and forget that we ever met. Got that?"

"How did you do that?" he said backing away.

"That is none of your business."

"Fine, I'll leave, but I'll never forget what I've heard and seen. I might even tell the guards where you are heading. Unless, that is, you let me join you," He smirked.

Sphergol, should I trust this kid?

_I don't see why not; he is just a child after all. I'm going to come out now._ There was a flash, and Sphergol reappeared in front of the four people.

"Sphergol believes that you pose no threat. But the question is, are you strong enough to join our quest to save all of Magentara?" Michael said.

"It all depends on what you consider strength. I am the most skilled archer in this kingdom, but in arms, well not so much."

"Well," said Michael grinning, "We'll just have to test those wonderful archery skills of yours now, won't we?"

The next few hours were spent in the forest having sword duels and archery contests. Since Michael's hand was broken, Ryan took his place in dueling the boy. Tristan was quickly defeated each round.

Michael felt confident that he had bested the boy, but was soon to be disappointed. In the archery challenges that Michael devised, Tristan hit the centre of each makeshift target with ease at ranges as far as sixty yards. As if that hadn't shown his ability, Tristan reached back for his quiver and grabbed two arrows at once, knocked them and turned his bow to the horizon. Releasing the arrows both at the same time, they angled out perfectly, splitting his previous arrows in half.

Knowing that this boy was a better marksman hurt Michael's pride, especially given the age difference between Tristan and himself. Tristan was not even a teenager yet. _How can this brat best me in archery so easily?_

It was nearly dark by the time they emerged from the forest.

"So, how did it go?" Reno asked.

"It was a disaster!" Michael grumbled.

"Maybe for you—I beat his archery challenge!" Tristan boasted. "So does this mean that I'm in?"

"It means," said Reno "that you take us to your home and let us speak with your parents and tell them what we plan on doing."

"But they won't let me come with you! Why can't we just leave and send a letter after we get far enough away so they can't catch us?"

"Because," said Reno, placing a hand on the boys shoulder, "you have a family that cares about you. The rest of us are either an outcast, runaway, or adult."

"Why can't I run away, too?"

Now Michael stepped in, "Because _you_ are twelve years old; I'm almost seventeen. There's a slight difference. And besides, I have magical gifts that aren't given to just anyone."

Finally, they convinced Tristan to take them to his family. When they arrived, the door burst open and a short, chubby black haired man glared up at them.

"Who are you supposed to be?" asked the man, who Michael assumed was Tristan's father.

"We are traveling performers, journeying across Magentara in search of fortune," Michael said with a bow.

"Yeah, and what of my boy?"

"He wishes to join us. I have tried to dissuade him, but he has proven to be rather persistent." Michael said, looking sideways at the boy.

"Persistent. That's about the only thing he is," The man spat at his sons feet. "Did you get anything worth hauling home?"

Tristan lowered his eyes before speaking. "No, father. I couldn't even find a game trail."

Enough of your excuses!" the man shouted.

Michael had never seen a father treat his own son this way before. He shuffled his feet and held his tongue.

"This _preforming_ you're talking 'bout; how long will you be gone?"

"Sir, I think you misunderstood," Reno said, "We had no intentions on bringing the boy."

"Humor me, giant," The short man said.

"Well, years at the least. Depending on how things go, we may never return home at all."

"Take him," Tristan's father said casually, pushing the door closed.

Michael stopped the weather worn plank before it reached the frame. "Mister," he paused, waiting for a name. When the man gave none, he continued, "Surely you would miss your son. You should at least consult your wife."

"My wife's dead!" the man grunted. "The boy is useless, I don't want him!" the man snapped. His clenched jaw and angered expression revealed a row of chipped and rotting teeth.

"He is not equip for the journey!" Reno said. He leaned in close to the man and whispered, "Do you realize the dangers of this business? Please, understand that your son could die."

The short man rose to his toes, until his mouth was nearly touching Reno's ear, "All the better," He took a step back. "My son is a very skilled archer. A circus is incomplete without one, you know."

"We can't take him." Michael said.

"Can I persuade you with this?" Tristan's father asked, pulling a leather coin pouch from his trousers and held it toward Michael.

"You just pulled that out of..." Ryan said, looking down at the short man's age-worn pants.

"What? I have to hide it somewhere close. That boy would run off with everything I own if he could."

Michael looked at the dingy pouch, then at the dirty man. "I'm sorry, I can't take your money, and the boy stays."

Tristan's father grabbed Michael's tunic with both fists and pulled him in, "How about this instead, _performer_! You take the boy, with or without the money, or I report you to the guards for trying to abduct him!"

Michael looked at Reno who gave a nod. There was no alternative; if they left, they would be overtaken by guards by nightfall. Also, the boy was despised by his father, and it would be harmful to him if he stayed. With a sigh he said, "Fine, we'll take him and be on our way. Keep your filthy coins."

The man released Michael and he backed away. He turned around and grabbed Tristan by the arm, hauling him away from his broken home.

After the group was out of ear shot, Tristan said, "A circus! And to think that he fell for it; man he's _crazy_. And you, Michael, are a skilled liar; you kept a straight face the whole time!"

"I wasn't lying, I really didn't want you to come. This is a war, and we need many combat skills to win the war. We are traveling across Magentara because we are looking for the Defre-Lanc; we wish to join forces with them."

These words seemed to disturb Tristan, his skin paled and he shivered. "How old are you again?" he asked glancing between the three people.

"I'll be seventeen tomorrow," Michael said. "Ryan is almost eighteen, and Reno is forty."

"You mean to tell me that you plan to start a war when three out of four would be kicked out of a tavern?" Tristan asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, we plan on joining forces with the Defre-Lanc, but basically yes," said Michael grinning. "You said you wanted to come, so if you change your mind now, we must exterminate you."

Tristan lost all color from his face and stepped back quivering. "I never said I wanted to leave! Don't just automatically assume what I'm thinking!"

"Calm down, boy. Don't start a temper tantrum on us."

After he finally settled down, Tristan said "I'm ready now. I want to help you in any way that I can."

"Then let's not waste time," Michael said, "the day is young and we can travel until dusk.

Chapter 10: Happy Birthday

_I am the one who has killed your mother and father, the one whose name will make all the people of Magentara scream for mercy! Die Prince Michael!_

He was freed from his nightmare by a loud shout. "Happy birthday, Michael!" two people shouted together.

"Reno, Ryan," Michael said after calming his breath, "who told you?"

"Everybody knows the prince's birthday. You were supposed to be paraded through the city today. Your father—" Reno cut himself off.

"Where's Tristan?" Michael asked, feeling the weight of knowing his father was gone forever.

"He went into the forest to practice archery," Ryan answered. "He left quite a while ago, so he should be back soon," He looked over to the forest to see Tristan emerge from behind a tree. "Hey, perfect timing!"

"Sorry I'm late," he said between gasps, "I lost track of time."

Reno brought out a rabbit with a burning stick in the center. "It's the best I could do for a cake out here, so you better appreciate it."

"Thanks Reno," he said rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He went to eat a piece off of the rabbit, but Sphergol stopped him.

"We eat later; right now we give you gifts."

"What?"

"Presents, you know, like on a special occasion?" Tristan asked, taking an arrow out of his quiver. "This is my only metal arrow." Tristan held up a steel-headed arrow with a hollow iron shaft. "At least it won't catch on fire in mid-air, but it might melt."

"Tristan, I can't take this," Michael said trying to hand it back.

"Yes you can. Besides, it was either the arrow or the bow, and I might just need a weapon when the time comes to battle," Tristan pushed it back to Michael, who hesitantly wrapped it in cloth and hid it under his shirt.

"This one is from me," Reno said handing him a pair of leather gloves. They had small, narrow spikes on the knuckles. The back of each gauntlet was plaited with iron. He tried it on his good hand, first spreading his fingers and then clenching his fist. The instant he tightened his fingers, the spikes slid out two inches.

Michael jumped and pulled them off. "Reno, you should've warned me!"

"That took me all night to build," Reno said proudly. "If you clench your fist tightly, the spikes come out, but if you just hold your sword they don't. Also, if you wear them loosely with a little space in the fingertips, the trigger will not release when you make a tight fist. I'm a genius!"

"Well, they might come in handy. Thank you again," Michael said, still staring at the deadly gloves.

"Now, it is time for my gift," Sphergol said as she entered into his body.

This time she went into his chest. Michael felt energy flow through his veins, mostly in his right arm. The power surged down to his hand. He could hear popping and squishing sounds coming from inside the limb. The swelling in his hand went down rapidly, and the color returned to normal.

As Sphergol exited Michael's body, she said "Happy birthday! I have healed your hand," Although she seemed healthy, something had changed. Her once brilliant golden color was now a pale yellow.

"Why didn't you heal it earlier?" Michael asked, looking at his hand.

"Uh! Ungrateful—" She said, "Well if you must know, I didn't heal your hand earlier because we had not established the link between our identities. After I hid in your mind the first time I could have healed you, but Tristan's arrival made it impractical."

"Oh, alright," Michael said, looking at her pale yellow glow, "What else happened in there?"

"Nothing! I'm just tired," she replied quickly. "I believe there's one more gift to be given," Tristan and Reno looked towards Ryan.

"Um... I... that is... well I, um, sort of forgot this was your seventeenth anniversary of life today," he said, embarrassed.

"Ryan!" Tristan, Reno and Sphergol all yelled at once.

"How could you forget the prince's birthday? He is _royalty_!" Tristan said.

"Tristan, I honestly don't care whether I get gifts or not," the prince defended.

After the gifts were given, the rabbit eaten and the different activities were finished; they made a camp fire and sat. The entire world around was dark, except the small fire.

"I wonder," Ryan said, looking at Sphergol, "what would have happened if we had never met you?"

"I'll tell you what would have happened," Michael said seriously, "we wouldn't be stuck here with you, because I would have killed you," This caused a moment of silence among the group, then an eruption of laughter.

"I have an idea!" Ryan exclaimed, "Let's all tell each other about our most embarrassing moments!"

"That is ridiculous," Reno said.

"No, it will be fun!" Ryan pressed for the conversation with strange excitement and urgency.

"I'll go first," Tristan announced. Everybody settled down to hear. "My family was poor, and we didn't have anything to wash in, so we used the river. We wore short robes so we could go together, in case somebody slipped on a rock and was knocked out.

"One day the river was strong and when I stepped in, the current started to drag me away. I was lucky that my father caught me before I reached the rapids. When I finally got back on shore, something was missing. I had lost my robe!" Everyone burst out laughing.

"But that's not all; I still had to wash. I went to the edge of the stream beside the bushes with my soap and finished washing. From now on it only gets worse!

"The river was about two miles from my home, and I had to walk the whole way, luckily we walked through the forest until we were behind the house, so I had a little cover, but there was a group of travelers on the road that saw me and laughed. I won't even mention my father's comments."

"What a ridiculous topic!" Sphergol spat. "I do not feel embarrassment like you weak humans."

"You," Michael replied, "do not have anything to be embarrassed about. You are perfectly round; you don't even have a face!"

"But even if I did, I would not be embarrassed."

"Sure you wouldn't," Reno muttered under his breath.

"My turn! My turn!" Ryan yelled excitedly. "So, there was this time when I was at my home and I—"

"There they are, after them!" a shout interrupted Ryan.

The small group quickly picked up their belongings and fled the camp; several soldiers right behind them.

The soldiers gained ground rapidly, due to the heavy load of provisions carried by Michael and the others. The clank of metal grew louder and louder as the soldiers came closer. Michael realized that they had to fight their way out.

"Stop running!" Michael shouted. "Drop your packs, turn around and ready your weapons!" There was a swish as Michael drew his new sword from the decorated blue sheath, a scrape as Tristan pulled back his arrow in his bow, and a grunt as Reno held up his black battle-axe, preparing to fight.

"Michael, I don't have a weapon," Ryan said.

"Here, you can have my old sword," Michael said, tossing his sheathed blade to Ryan.

All four of the band were now armed and ready to fight; Sphergol was also ready to work magic.

When the soldiers were within fighting distance, they were the first to strike. There were ten; all were well armed. The armor was red, and on the spot where the symbol of Jenoth once sat was a black dagger.

_Malumous,_ Michael thought to himself bitterly.

The soldiers attacked Michael. He swung his sword around him. There was a loud ring as the diamond edge hit metal. Michael glanced up and saw the red steel fuse back together. The guard raised his long sword in the air, and then dropped it. He fell to the ground with an arrow in the back of his neck. Behind him stood Tristan preparing another arrow.

"Slash their necks or under their arms!" Michael yelled. "It's the only opening in their armor!" Michael turned and faced a soldier. Blank eyes stared down at him, cold and dark eyes, almost hypnotizing. The prince didn't even realize that the man was swinging his sword at him.

The blade was six inches from his head when the arm fell to the ground. The soldier screamed as blood poured down his side. Michael came to his senses as he saw the tip of a sword slice into the soldier's neck. He was dead in seconds.

"Happy birthday!" Ryan shouted over the sound of metal ringing. "I just saved your life!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw Reno split the helmet of a soldier. The man fell to the ground. The helmet repaired itself, but a red puddle formed quickly around his crushed skull.

Michael could hear screams coming from all directions as more and more soldiers were injured, but there was one that he recognized. He looked and saw Tristan lying on the ground holding his bleeding leg. A solider was standing beside the boy, pointing a sword down at him.

Michael went into a blind rage. The next thing he knew, he was standing beside a mutilated body. The smell of death filled his nostrils as blood dripped off of his shimmering sword.

His companions stared at him with disbelief, and Sphergol pulsated with light as she hovered near. Michael had slain the seven remaining soldiers in his rampage. He looked at the sword then the dead men all around, felt sick in the pit of his stomach, and then all went black as he fainted.

Chapter 11: Blinded

When Michael awoke, they were in the woods off to the left of the stone road. He noticed that there was something was wrong when he rubbed his eyes. He opened his eyes fully, but his vision was not normal. He blinked, first the left and then the right. His left eye was fine, but through the right all he saw was a blur and black spots. He panicked and woke Reno up.

"What's the matter Michael?" Reno asked.

"My eye is... I'm going blind in my left eye!" he said to Reno With wide eyes and a shaking voice.

"What?" Reno asked, looking down. He gasped, "Michael, your eye is changing!"

"Changing?"

"See for yourself," Reno said as he handed a polished piece of metal to the prince. He looked into the reflective surface. Michael touched his fingers to his bottom eyelid, not believing what he saw to be true.

"No. It can't be real," Michael began to feel a lump in his throat and tears form in his eyes. It wasn't an illusion, what he saw in his reflection was genuine. His left eye was, in fact, changing. The white part of his eye was turning even whiter, his iris was fading to a lighter shade, and his pupil was gray. There were two crossed scratches on his pupil. The prince started to cry.

"It's fine Michael," Reno said, trying to calm Michael down. "Just give it time to heal."

All day Reno reassured Michael that the eye would heal, but he was wrong. By the end of the day, Michael saw nothing out of his left eye, and it appeared pale and lifeless.

After the group set camp toward the small city of Renadale, Michael looked toward Tristan and said, "It was you."

"What do you mean?"

"It was you; you told the guards where we were. _It was you!_ " Michael shouted as he lunged toward Tristan.

"That is ridiculous!" Sphergol said as she floated in between them.

"I went in the forest to practice my archery!"

"That's just what you wanted us to think, but you really told the guards where we were. I have it all figured out!" Michael lunged at Tristan again, but Sphergol placed an invisible barrier between them.

"Stop it Michael!" Reno shouted. "Think about this for a moment; if Tristan did tell the guards, then why would he kill one of the men that Malumous sent?"

"Exactly!" Ryan exclaimed, trying to sound like he was part of the argument.

"If he didn't, then who did?" Michael asked.

"The most powerful magic users have one thing in common," Sphergol began. "Their mind can leave their body and the consciousness can travel the land at light speed. Because of the bond between Malumo and Sharvaus, Malumous is powerful enough to do this. You must become powerful as well, or all of Magentara is doomed."

"Nevertheless, I will watch you closely, Tristan," Michael said in a tone of authority. "From now on you will not train unsupervised by Reno, Sphergol or I. Am I understood?"

"But—"

"Am I understood?"

"Yes..."

"Well," Ryan said as he yawned, "who's sleepy?" Everyone agreed and then drifted to sleep, all but Michael.

The prince tossed and turned, tired but unable to sleep. His one-eyed vision blurred with exhaustion, but rest was out of reach to his troubled mind. He forced himself to think only on the darkness, until finally the world went black.

Chapter 12: A Way Revealed

Early dawn broke as the small group awoke. They were about to head down the path to the open gates of Renadale when Sphergol stopped them and said,

"Wait! If you want to enter this city, you need a disguise."

"How will we get a disguise in the middle of nowhere?" Ryan asked.

"We have to improvise," Sphergol said. "Michael and I have the ability to change voices, and slightly shift body distributions temporarily."

"We do?" Michael asked, surprised.

"Yes, we do. Very slight changes mind you, but changes nevertheless."

Michael stared at her blankly for a few moments, obviously confused.

"Fine, I will explain the few rules of your magic. Number one, don't strain yourself. Number two, think wisely in choosing whether to use magic or your enhanced physical strength, speed or intelligence, and number three is that you can cast spells to manipulate the world around you, if you think deeply enough into it. You cannot create anything, so your abilities depend on the environment you are in."

"But in the history books it says the people could do anything. Why is it so different now?"

"The fullness of magic has been stripped of our land by the Being; the same Being who bestowed it in the first place. Nobody knows who or what it is, or if it is even of this world."

"Then why would anybody have believed Aaron when he said I had used magic?"

"Because," Sphergol said hesitantly, "there are _other_ ways to become powerful, and none of them are good."

"What do you mean?" Michael asked.

"There is a method of obtaining power by inviting dark spirits into your mind. The power comes at a high price however..."

"Sphergol, I need to know this. If there is magic out there I need to be prepared for it," Michael urged.

Sphergol hesitated, then continued, "Through rituals, these humans gained immortality and power over magical energy. _The Summoned,_ as they became termed, slowly died of mutations caused by the dark power inside of them. The few that have survived became purely consumed by the power and have gone mad. It is believed that Malumo was one of these magicians."

"We haven't got all day!" Reno said impatiently.

"Alright, let's learn to hide in plain sight," Michael said, though he was still curious about the Summoned.

The next hour went by with hair trimming or matting, voice changes, and wardrobe changes. Ryan tangled his hair with dirt and leaves then tore his clothes slightly. Reno threw flour from their provisions in his beard, lightening it to a flat gray. He hunched over on a stick, using it as a cane. Tristan smeared a thin layer of honey on his cheeks and upper lip, and Michael helped put hair trimming on his face to simulate facial hair. Michael stayed basically the same, but he allowed his hair to hang down over his eyes. Sphergol entered Michael's mind once more.

"All our weapons are the same!" Ryan complained.

"That doesn't matter," Reno said. "All of our enemies who have seen them are dead."

_There is one more thing we must look for in this town,_ Sphergol said, and Michael relayed the message. _We must watch for the crest of the Defre-Lanc. It is a picture of an F with a small c between the top line and the bottom line with a pentagon surrounding it._

"So we should go now?" Ryan asked. "Is there anything else we need to do first?"

"We can go; there is nothing else we need," Sphergol answered through Michael.

As they approached the city gates they stopped by an armored guard bearing the black dagger on his chest and helm. "Halt! Stay where you are," he said as he blocked the way with a spear. "By order of the supreme ruler of Jenoth, Malumous, I must check all travelers to assure that they are not the four disguised outlaws wanted for murder, evasion of custody from the capital city guards, and treason."

"Please," Reno begged "I am just an old performer, and I need to train my son before I pass on—"

The guard kicked Reno's cane out from under him and laughed as he fell in the dirt.

"Hey!" Michael shouted and punched the guard in his armored gut. With an almost mocking smile on his face, the guard pulled a cruel knife out and slashed Michael across the jaw and then knocked him out with the black handle.

"Anyone else?" the guard beckoned, but neither Ryan nor Tristan moved.

Reno shook Michael to his senses. " _Knife_ ," he whispered to Michael.

The prince grabbed the handle of the hunting knife he always kept tucked under his shirt at easy hand and slowly pulled it out of the leather case. When it was fully out of its sheath, he swung the sharp steel edge at the guard's ankles. Michael saw the world in tunnel vision as the blade went straight through, leaving a trail of black smoke behind.

The guard's legs began to disintegrate from his ankles to his head. Right before he disappeared, there was a flash, and an image of a hooded black phantom with red, glowing eyes burned onto Michael's good eye. The image flew out of view, and all that was left was a pile of ashes.

"Great!" Michael spat after he made sure there were no witnesses. "Now we have a phantom after us! Is there anything Malumous can't do?"

"Well technically speaking, yes," Sphergol stated. "Sadly, that isn't much, however. You will get stronger, but for now I doubt that you can even heal that small scratch on your cheek."

"We should start our search for the crest now," Reno said. "We will regroup in the city's center at noon."

Three hours had passed and the sun was just a short distance from high noon the wide band in the sky was light pink, as it always was during the day. There was still no sign of the crest. The group joined again in the middle of the giant square, beside the fountain.

"Did you find anything?" Reno asked everybody, whose reply was no.

"Maybe we should just move on," Michael said, but almost on cue, there was a commotion in a corner of the square.

"Get out and stay out!" an old woman screamed, "I don't ever want to see your kind around here again!"

Down on the ground, a man picked up a chain and yelled, "Your sister is now gone, and you're next, witch!" He stormed off toward the barracks.

Michael looked up at the door as it slammed shut. It had an odd shape, sort of a pentagon. A square window was carved in the center and it had a curved bar from the top right corner to the bottom corner on the same side. A vertical board ran from the bottom right corner of the window, straight down to the bottom of the door. It was the crest!

"You won't believe this," he said to the others. "I see it!"

"What?" Ryan asked, trying to follow Michael's stare. "Where is it?"

"It is the door!" Michael began to run for the small building.

"Michael!" Reno tried to stop him, but with no success.

A sign beside the door read, _Alatha's herb shop. Fortunes are one gold coin each. All travelers are welcome._

Michael entered the shop. "Hello, is anyone here? Alatha, are you here?"

A scratchy voice came from behind a black and red curtain. "Alatha is dead. She's dead. Gone forever, she will never return."

"I'm sorry; the sign said that this shop belonged to her," Michael said as the aged woman emerged from behind the cloth wall. "What is your name?"

"I am Ahtala, Alatha was my twin sister. She was burned at the stake, and now I keep the shop under her name to honor her."

She had silver hair half way down her curved back, deep wrinkles and straight teeth. Her eyes looked as if they were just barely alive—pale blue-gray dishes in her face.

Reno pulled Michael aside. "We need to ask her about the Defre-Lanc, but if we just suddenly mention it to her she may kick us out, too."

"Just be quiet! I've got this under control," He turned to the old lady. "Sorry, my father here just wanted to ask about the door, it's very different than all the other doors in this city."

"Well, there aren't many people who are as creative as my sister was. So, did you want something from the shop, maybe a fortune telling?" She motioned to a table with two chairs. The table had a map of Magentara painted on it.

"We should get our fortune told – it sounds fun!" Ryan exclaimed.

"I suppose, it may tell us the safest route to our destination. Alright, I'll do it."

"Good, very good," the woman said as the coins were placed in her palm. She lit a fire in a small dish that sat on the table, "These herbs will help clear your mind; they also break the connection of any _voices_ ...I hear voices sometimes..." The lady laughed eccentrically for a moment, and then her expression hardened.

"Wait!" Michael tried to stand up but it was too late, the smoke from the herbs had entered the prince's lungs.

Soon after, Sphergol was ejected from Michael's mind.

"No, it can't be; the event prophesied ten centuries ago is coming true! What a joyous day!"

Michael jumped up and drew his sword, as Sphergol took her normal round shape. The others also held up their weapons.

"Do not be alarmed, I won't hurt you. Please allow me the honor of fulfilling my part. I must tell you the way to find what you are searching for, a way to find what you need!" She grabbed his hand and went pale. Her eyes rolled back in her head so all Michael saw were the whites. She chanted in a strange language. It must have been the directions to the Defre-Lanc because then she said, "Under the Sea of the Dead, over the Black Sky, on the peak of Hytaran Thira. A way revealed!" She repeated this five times and fell unconscious.

Reno felt for breath and a pulse, but there was none. "She's dead," he said as he closed her eyelids and laid her on the floor. As he did, a note fell from her hand. Michael picked it up and read:

Before you leave, you must take the book titled Magentara's Book of War and History. It will help you find the correct path on your journey to my people, the Defre-Lanc. Tell them that I have completed my life and passed on.

Your friend,

Ahtala

"We must leave," Sphergol insisted.

"Where are we supposed to go? We don't know where this Sea of the Dead is. It could be any sea in all of Magentara!" Ryan yelled in his new voice that was a fair amount higher pitch, as if he were twelve or thirteen.

"He is right. We can't head for a sea that we don't know the location of," Michael stated.

"If we head toward the forest east of the city for cover, we will be able to travel toward any body of water in all of this Kingdom. That forest is almost the center point of Jenoth," Tristan said as he looked up from the map embedded on the table.

"I agree, but the first thing we must do is leave this city, as Sphergol said," Reno added.

Suddenly, a torch flew through the window and landed on the table. The northern half of the map lit first. The fire was blue over the water and green over the land. The rest was normal fire.

"We have to go to the northern gate!" Michael said.

"Why?" Tristan asked.

"Just trust me!"

The blaze quickly consumed the table and spread to the floor. Before the fire reached the shelves of books, Tristan dashed over and grabbed the thick book with the appropriate title and returned to the group near the door. "We can't just run out, we need a plan!"

"We already have one," Michael said as he picked up a wooden walking stick.

Reno opened the door and slipped out on the stick, hobbling and coughing on the smoke. Three soldiers ran up to arrest him, but they could never have expected what was about to happen. Michael tossed the axe to Reno and jumped out with sword in hand, followed by Ryan and Sphergol.

It was a battle like Michael had never personally experienced. Thirty armed soldiers bearing the dagger of Malumous all attacked the Sphere and four people. Unlike before, the armor was not enchanted so it was easier to fight them, but sheer numbers made it seem impossible.

Throughout the battle, there was no sign of Tristan. This made Michael feel as if Tristan were hiding something. Was he behind this?

Michael suddenly saw an arrow pierce the leather helmet of a soldier. _At least I know that he is still here,_ Michael thought, not daring to glance away from the approaching soldiers.

Though soon only about ten men standing, each of the members of Michael's group had been injured. Tristan, who had found a way to the roof of a nearby building, pulled a muscle in his back and a bow string had snapped and cut his face and arms. Michael, Reno and Ryan all had strained muscles, bruises and cuts; they were all exhausted.

"Circle them and close in!" the commanding officer shouted.

There was no possible escape. Michael lowered his head in defeat. He knew it was over.

"What are you doing?" Tristan shouted from the rooftop.

"There is nothing we can do, it's over!"

"Have you forgotten your gift, and my gift to you? Use them!"

_The arrow!_ Michael had forgotten it. _I can do this! I can do this, I know it._ He reached under his shirt.

"Keep your hands where I can see them!" the commander shouted.

Michael ignored him and removed the arrow wrapped in cloth from under his shirt.

"Put it down!" the man growled nervously.

"Gladly," Michael said, releasing the concealed weapon from his grip. With his powers he made the bundle float away from his body level with his chest.

The commander cowered. "What sorcery is this?"

"It is the same as the lost magic of the ancient people of Magentara!" another soldier said.

Michael grinned as the cloth burst into flame, revealing the red hot steel and iron. He controlled the metal arrow and used a magical force to propel the hot projectile in a complete circle through the soldiers' necks, killing them instantly. It was a clean death, and the smell of cauterized flesh wafted through the square.

Michael felt as if he had been stabbed by the arrow as well. The golden belt sent a paralyzing heat that knocked the prince off his feet. He began to shake uncontrollably and turned white.

Sphergol took the form of a strange liquid and entered into Michael's body through his mouth and nose. She moved through his convulsing body, flowing through his blood and into his skull where she pressed her mind against his. The shaking ended and his breathing returned to normal.

When Sphergol emerged from his mind, the liquid had a reddish tint to it. She took her original form but unlike before had a red glow and was pale.

Michael sat up and gained his balance using the walking stick. "What was that?" he asked shivering.

"That was a fight in your mind between light and dark magic. Someone has been watching and waiting for a chance to corrupt you and if I hadn't managed to enter your mind and intercept, you may have become one of The Summoned! I warned you about using your powers when you were weak!"

A moan escaped from Michael as he passed out once more, this time from exhaustion. Reno and Ryan carried Michael to the northern gate as Tristan nimbly ran from roof to roof searching for a safe way down.

Surprisingly, the gate was not guarded by a soldier. The three people carried Michael as they ran for freedom, but something stopped them.

A black streak flew across the sky toward the gate, angled back toward the ground and charged at them. It flashed from a phantom to a falcon and from a falcon to an eagle. When it was almost on them it grew hair, four legs, and a snarling snout with long fangs. The creature shed its wings, taking on the form of a massive black wolf.

The wolf swiped its paw at the four tired people and Magic Sphere, catching Ryan by the arm and slashing four parallel lines in his flesh.

The beast landed softly, and its black fur shone with an evil radiance. It waved its deadly dagger-like claws in the air before striking again. It gouged Reno and Tristan's thighs and they collapsed, bleeding. The wolf lifted his right paw and it transformed into a thin gray hand with sharpened black fingernails. It began to carve a strange symbol in Michael's shoulder.

A gasp escaped from the prince as he woke to the burning pain of the claw. He strained to get up, but the giant beast held him down with his free paw.

Out of nowhere, another wolf pounced on the neck of the beast. This wolf was much smaller, and he had a white coat. He hooked onto the giant's left side and bit hard. The huge beast reached up with his rear paw and kicked the white wolf off like a flea.

The injured travelers all wrapped cloth around their wounds so they would not lose as much blood, although they had already lost a lot. They crawled over to the corner of an alley, but to a spot where they could see what was happening.

The wolves circled each other with the hair on their backs standing on end. They showed their teeth, crouched, and pounced at each other. When the beasts were about to hit, the white wolf somehow angled down and grabbed the black one by the throat. He sank his teeth and claws into the major arteries of the black beast's neck, killing it.

The monster wolf disintegrated, and the phantom reappeared. It was black and had tattered gray robes. Its red eyes burned like fire. The creature shrank back, but before it flew away, an arrow impaled its head, directly between the eyes. The phantom howled with many voices at once, until it exploded into black flames before disappearing. It was dead.

Who had killed it, and how? The travellers were dumbfounded. How can you kill a phantom? It wasn't Tristan; he was right there. Sphergol didn't seem to even care that the evil creature was gone, or that it was there in the first place.

She seems different; darkness seems to shadow her now. And why is she turning red?

The group crept out of the cramped alley and into the light of day. Their wounds slowed them exceedingly.

Michael was still trying to answer the question of what happened with the phantom when a boy suddenly jumped down in front of them. His brown hair was tucked under a black hood, and all but his blue-green eyes and small drapes of hair in front of them were hidden by a black cloth scarf. He was covered in some kind of a baggy, thick cloth that had been dyed black. A small pouch hung off of his belt, along with many knives and daggers of different shapes and sizes. His shoulders were narrow, and his hands were thin. He had a quiver of arrows, but no bow to fire them.

Michael recognized the clothing, and a rush of childhood memories flooded his mind. It was the uniform of the king's personal bounty hunter; an assassin trained from the moment he learn to walk, sworn to serve whoever sits on the throne of Jenoth. _Malumous sits on the throne,_ Michael thought to himself as he used what strength he had left to draw his sword.

"Nice weapon," The mysterious boy said with an unnaturally deep voice.

"You defeated the phantom, but are you a friend or foe?" Michael asked suspiciously.

"That all depends on your perspective of a friend. Yes, I killed your _phantom_. However, was it wise of me? Probably not."

"Do I detect sarcasm?" Michael asked, his royal nature taking hold of his tongue once more.

"No, it is just that... you seek so much and know so little..."

"What are you saying?"

The strange boy laughed then bolted down the alley, but the four injured people could not keep up the pace. Even Michael with his speed was no match for this agile young man while he was hurting so badly.

The prince looked back and realized that he had been separated from the others. He had no clue where he was or where to go to get out of this city.

The confused swordsman jogged down the narrow alley. He passed a shaded doorway with a cloth draped in front of the opening and kept on for a few steps, until something hard hit him in the back of the head and he dropped. His one-eyed vision blurred, and he went unconscious.

When Michael woke up, he was tied to a tree along with his friends, Sphergol was floating beside him. Something felt different though—his belt felt lighter. The prince dared to look down.

"That guy stole my sword!"

Chapter 13: The Fight for the Blade

"I can't believe I was so stupid! Why did he save our lives and then steal _my_ sword?" Michael was so angry he jumped up and snapped the ropes that held him down like old threads.

"First off," Tristan began "we can't break ropes, so get us untied!"

The group was still in disguise, and the magic altering their voices was in effect.

"I'm just so angry!" Michael punched a branch, which went flying and almost smacked into Reno's head.

"Watch it kid!" Reno said. "That's a good way to decapitate someone! Now settle down and act a bit more grown up!"

Michael clenched his fists and took deep breaths to smother his rage. He knew the man was right; with Reno being the oldest in the group, they needed his guidance.

"I don't understand why I, the best fighter here, am the only person to get something stolen!"

"Well, it really was a nice sword," Ryan pointed out.

"If we had left when Sphergol suggested, it wouldn't have happened!" Michael shot back at Ryan. "Where are we anyway?" he asked as he looked around.

"We were dragged out through the Northern gate," Sphergol stated, "just as you demanded."

"What's wrong with you lately Sphergol, you aren't acting like yourself?" Michael said, noticing that her gold color had an even more reddish glow than before.

"Nothing is wrong with me! Why is it that you blasted humans cannot mind your own business?"

"Somebody rolled off the wrong side of the bed!" Ryan said to Tristan under his breath.

"Maybe Michael's bad attitude is starting to rub off on her," Tristan whispered back.

"So what do we do next?" Reno asked.

"First, we find that kid who stole my sword, and then we make him pay," Michael said angrily. "Sphergol, you can fly up into the sky and look for any signs of him. Reno, Tristan and I will blaze a trail in the forest to look for him."

"Well, what about me?" Ryan asked feeling quite rejected.

"You get the most important job," Sphergol said rudely. "You will stay here and keep watch. When or if you see him, yell. That _should_ be easy enough, even for you."

Michael was troubled by Sphergol's strange behavior, but he did not pursue it. "Well, let's head out," he said and ventured deeper into the thick trees of the forest.

Nearly an hour had passed when Ryan heard a sound coming from behind a tree, so he went to investigate. He walked over to the tree and peered behind. "Nothing, that's weird," Ryan muttered under his breath. He was about to turn around when someone covered his mouth with a black gloved hand. He felt a sharp, cold steel point touch his neck under his chin.

"If you make one sound, I will cut your voice box out with a flick of my wrist, got it?" a deep voice whispered in his ear.

Ryan nodded slightly, aware of the sharp knife on his throat. His captor released him, and he turned around to see the strange boy that had killed the phantom. Ryan stared at the masked boy for a moment, then raised his hand.

"What do you want?" the boy asked.

"Hi," Ryan stated. He raised his hand again.

"What now?"

"Why was that phantom after us?"

The boy let out a sigh. "That was not an ordinary phantom. Really, it isn't a phantom at all, but rather a shape-shifting monster called a Morphantom. And obviously it was attacking you because it was commanded to by Malumous, the same as I was ordered to kill all of you."

"Oh," Ryan said. "Why did you steal my friend's sword?"

"I stole it because I wanted it," The boy grumbled.

"Well that's not very nice."

"You are lucky to still be alive. I don't really do nice that often; it's an assassin thing."

"Well maybe you should try it sometime," After he said this there was a long silence. Ryan couldn't take it any longer, and he let out a huge wail.

The boy backhanded Ryan on the face so hard it knocked him over. "I told you not to yell!"

At that moment, Sphergol dropped from the sky, and Tristan, Michael and Reno trotted out of the woods to see the thief.

"You! You masked demon!" Michael shouted.

"I beg your pardon? I do not appreciate being called a _demon_!" the boy in the mask shouted back. He pulled a knife out and held it up to Ryan's throat once more. "Turn around for twenty seconds, and I won't kill him."

"Alright, just don't hurt him," Reno said. "He is my only living grandson."

The boy laughed. "Do you think I'm stupid? You're too young to have a grandson of this age!"

Reno and Michael looked at each other in confusion. Were their disguises really that bad?

"What are you talking about?" Reno asked. "I'm old enough to have great-grandchildren!"

"You don't look a day over forty," the boy replied. "This kid's at least seventeen, so if he was your grandchild, you would have had to have a kid when you were thirteen, and your kid would have had to have a this one at the age of about, ten years."

"Look," Michael said, "if you give my sword back, we won't hurt you."

"Just as I thought: really bad liars." The boy pointed directly at Michael. "How about a little one-on-one fight between me and you! If you win, you can have your sword back if you agree to leave me alone, but if you lose, I will take all of your things and sell them for money."

"Everything?" Michael asked.

"Forget that last part. Everything with the exception of your trousers, but I will take your belts. So are you up for it?" He sounded very confident.

The stakes seemed high, but nevertheless Michael accepted the challenge. "Keep my sword at close hand, thief. This will be swifter than you think," He stepped up to the challenger.

"Are you so certain?" the boy asked. "I will make the rules. Strikes to the stomach, face, legs or arms are considered as fair. No choking will be tolerated. Do not kill your opponent, and no help is allowed to either side."

It seemed fair; Michael didn't want to kill him, and he certainly did not wish to be killed himself. As for help, he believed wouldn't need it anyway. "Ben will watch the fight and make sure that there is no cheating," He gestured toward Ryan.

"This should be amusing," Sphergol said under her breath.

Soon the battle began. They both were without weapons, so it was just hand-to-hand combat. Michael would jab straight forward with his fist, but the masked boy would dodge. The boy swung right and Michael ducked.

The assassin reached out to grab Michael by his left shoulder. The prince deflected the grapple with his right wrist, then grabbed the arm with his left and struck his right elbow against the opponent's jaw, careful not to use much strength.

The boy chuckled. "Think I can't take a hit? Show me what you've got!" He flipped over Michael's head and planted a hard boot to the back of his skull. Then he rolled to his side and knocked Michael down with a quick scissor motion of his legs.

Michael pushed up off of his stomach and kicked his opponent in the gut, hard. The powerful strike sent the assassin flying backwards and onto his back. The boy rolled back with the momentum of the fall, braced his hands in the dirt and stood back up laughing.

"You call that a _kick_? You're weaker than I thought!"

Anger raged in Michael's veins, heating his blood and turning his cheeks red. The boy laughed again.

"Now, now, no need to go home blatting to your mother. You can cry on my shoulder if you must," he said mockingly, smoothing the wrinkles out of the black fabric of his shirt.

By now, Michael had had enough. He clenched his fists, felt power flow into his legs, and he jumped at the cocky boy. He flew into him and carried him several yards into the air before dropping him. When he realized what he was doing, he panicked and fell, landing clumsily on his hands and knees.

"Now that's more like it! Light some fire under those feet! That is, if you can keep up," the assassin dusted the dirt off of his black outfit.

Reno, Tristan and Ryan were amazed. One, Michael had just defied the laws of the air, and second, that fall would have injured a _normal_ human tremendously. This boy didn't seem troubled in the least. Who was this stranger?

Sphergol floated on the sidelines, glowing brighter with each moment of aggression.

The battle resumed as the two locked arms, but out of nowhere a block of ice appeared above Michael's head. The prince looked up just in time to see it fall and leapt out of the way. He used the opportunity to back away to a safer distance.

The boy picked up the chunk of ice and looked it over. "Hmm, freak hail storm?" He chuckled. "Or maybe it was _magic_? Oh well," He looked at the chunk of ice once again. "I never said that there were to be no weapons!" He chucked it at Michael's head.

With his incredible speed, Michael pulled the gloves Reno had made for him firmly onto his hands. The tough leather beckoned to him and he made a fist, revealing the long spikes. As the ice was about to smash into his head, he caught the projectile on the spikes and hurled it back at the assassin.

His opponent seemed to be expecting it. He flicked his wrists and long, sharp double edged blades popped out from the fingertips of his own black gloves. With two quick motions, he sliced the block vertically and horizontally. It fell to his feet like snow. The assassin saw Michael charging at him and he kicked the white powder up into his red face.

The prince jerked back, stunned. The cold, white ice shards dusted his face and got in his eyes, blurring his vision. He blinked and water drops fell to the ground.

"Aww, don't cry! It couldn't have hurt that bad," the boy mocked.

Michael's face burned red and his chest quaked with every quick breath. The prince bolted toward the quick-talking boy. He stuck his fist out and drove the spikes into the assassin's arm. Blood trickled down his arm out of four deep gashes.

Michael clenched his teeth. "Give it back! Give it back, or die!"

As if that was what he was waiting for, the assassin raised his other hand to his mouth and gave a loud whistle that echoed for several seconds. Suddenly, the white wolf pounced out of the forest and sat on the sidelines.

Michael was about to go into a blind rage when the beast pounced on him and tried to hold him down, with no success. Like he had done to Aaron in the city of Jenoth, he rolled the wolf over, but instead of landing on top he kicked his feet out and threw the animal through the air. The only thing that stopped the wolf's flight was a tree, which he smashed into with great force. Seeing his companion injured angered the assassin to his limit. There was no holding back now.

Reno, Ryan and Tristan all sprang into action. They hurried over to Michael who was getting up off of the ground. Reno held the angry prince's arms behind his back and Ryan and Tristan struggled to hold his feet together.

Out of nowhere, a burning fist went flying toward Michael's head, striking him directly on the nose. There was a loud crunching sound and an extreme pain shot through Michael's face and blood gushed out through his nostrils. The assassin had taken advantage of the restraint and broken Michael's nose.

Reno and the others scurried back to get out of the way. "This boy is as strong as Michael!" Reno shouted. "Not only that, he can use magic as well as, or even better than him!"

"I know," Tristan said. "If this goes on much longer, they'll end up killing each other."

"More like the other boy killing Michael," Sphergol laughed.

That was the undoing of the last thread of patience for the prince; He was not going to hold back either.

In single, simultaneous movements, Michael kicked at the boy's stomach, who in turn blocked with a still flaming fist. The prince whipped around, lowered his foot, and brought his right fist around in line with the assassin's head. The boy used his right hand to block, and used his left when Michael swung with his left to attempt a blow again. When their arms were locked with each other's, the two combatants slammed their heads together, sending off an explosion of invisible force that pulsed outward from them.

Ryan, Reno, and Tristan watched in horror as the two continued their brawl. It had gone from staked competition to a fight to the death, and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it. Michael and the masked boy were going to tear each other apart!

Suddenly, the white wolf jumped onto Michael's back, knocking him to the ground and away from the boy. Michael threw the beast off of him and leapt towards it, only to be tackled to the ground by the young stranger.

"Stay away from Bastian!" the boy ordered angrily.

"I'll be happy to take it out on you!" Michael spat back, throwing the boy off as well.

He rolled a few times after hitting the ground, then jumped to his feet and tackled Michael again.

"Get off me!" Michael shouted.

"Not until you get your head together!" the stranger said. "You're going to hurt someone; most likely yourself."

"I'm more likely to hurt you or your stupid animal than myself!"

"Touch him again, and I swear I'll _kill_ you."

"Not if I kill you first!" Michael clenched his fists and the spikes emerged from their hiding place. He began to swing madly, left and right fists swinging one after the other. Eventually, the stranger's dodging slowed and Michael swung at his face, ripping the scarf and hood off, revealing long brown hair done up in a tight braided bun.

"A girl!" Reno, Michael, Tristan and Ryan all shouted in unison. The girl scrambled away a distance.

"Funny," she said with a feminine voice, "I was going to say the same thing about _you_!" She charged forward with her hands stretched out, long blades reflecting light into Michael's eyes.

"Yes!" Sphergol exclaimed.

The prince felt two feet hit him in the stomach and vomit came to his mouth. Half-digested food shot out of him as he flew backward into a tree. The girl charged toward him and jumped, kneeing him in the chin.

"What's the matter? Scared to hit a girl? That never stopped you before!" she screamed, pinning him to the aged tree by his clothing.

Michael placed his hands on the wood and pulled heat from the air around and concentrated it into his hands. The heat coming off of him was so intense that the assassin had to take a step back, yet Michael felt nothing. The tree behind him exploded into flames and sent burning clumps of pine needles and moss falling to the ground like tiny meteors.

Michael ran behind the burning tree, jumped up to a weak spot and kicked hard. The tree toppled to the ground, landing on the girl. He walked over to her and looked down. "So, looks like I won."

"Not yet." She squirmed around to move some dirt out of the way and crawled out from under the blazing tree.

Michael prepared to fight again, but the girl ran over to the tree. A huge glowing blue ball appeared, separated into tiny parts and fell like rain. Soon the fire was extinguished and there was a disturbing silence. The magnificent sword with the diamond edge landed at the prince's feet with a dull thud.

"Take it and go," the girl said. "If you ever see me again, turn and run, or you'll regret it," She slowly walked over to the wolf and knelt by its side. "I said go!" She threw a ball of fire near the prince, deliberately missing.

The group all turned to leave, but Michael looked over his shoulder to see a bright yellow and white light, and then the girl was gone. He turned away and caught up with the others.

Chapter 14: The Other Side

The morning after the fight, most of Michael's injuries were healed, aside from his broken nose. As far as pain, the worst was his nose and a few pulled muscles and bruises.

"Well I'm glad that's over with," Tristan said as they prepared for the day.

"Me too; I mean, the guy's a chick, and a good looking one, too," Ryan added. "That's just way too much excitement for one day."

"Well I was the only person that was actually fighting him...I mean her," Michael was still dazed from the previous day. The thought of there being more magic users other than Malumous and himself bothered him.

"Come on, we should go back," Reno tried to convince them.

"Why? I don't want to risk something else being stolen. Besides, she said never to go back," Michael stated.

"She was just upset."

"Well that's her fault! She should know not to rush into fights like that."

"So should you! You're the one that accepted the challenge; she just offered."

"I wanted my sword back! She stole it from me when I was unconscious!"

"But if you hadn't chased her she wouldn't have knocked you out!"

"She shouldn't have run if she had nothing to hide!"

"But she did—we thought she was a he!" Ryan interjected.

"That's her fault, too! She was wearing a disguise!"

"So were we!"

The other group members looked at each other, aside from Sphergol. She was off toasting a patch of odd red flowers near a tree, laughing as they shriveled and exploded.

Michael said, "She threatened to kill me!"

This time Tristan spoke, "Only after you hurt the wolf. Couldn't you tell that that was her only companion in the world? Or were you only worried about your poor little royal _pride_ to see that you almost killed her?"

Michael was shocked. Nobody had ever spoken to him like that before; they hadn't dared to speak to a prince with such a tone.

He lowered his head. "Even if I wanted to go back, she said to never return," Michael said gloomily.

"Did you ever care to think that if she has been alone all this time, she may not know how to properly say goodbye?" Reno paused for a moment to let the tension in Michael settle and to let the words sink in. "Michael, she's only a young girl, not much older than you."

Michael stood there as the words seemed to cool his angry heart. He thought for a moment and decided to listen to Reno and find the girl.

"Okay, fine we'll go," Michael sighed.

"Yes!" Ryan exclaimed throwing both fists in the air. Then he looked around awkwardly and slowly dropped them to his sides. "I mean...that's good that uh...we're going to help her. We should help her." His cheeks went red as the others stared at him.

Michael nudged Tristan with his elbow and whispered, "I think somebody is in ¬ _l-o-v-e_."

Tristan snickered. "You _think_? Well I _know_."

"I am not!" Ryan declared, turning even redder.

"Sure you're not," Tristan teased.

"I'm not!"

"Fine, we believe you," Michael said with a grin.

"Why don't we all just toast these flowers instead?" Sphergol asked.

"Wait!" Tristan said before she lit another one.

"What for? It's fun!"

"We can use the seeds as explosives. These are very rare; they're called Calinof flowers. If you look close, you can see that the red petals have a black stem running through the center. This _vein_ contains a strong antidote for the poison inside of the red petals," Tristan knelt and plucked the first of the beautiful red flowers from the ground.

"So, they're an extremely useful plant?" Michael asked.

"Yes. But we must prepare the different parts within an hour of picking the flowers or else all the properties are neutralized."

"How do you know so much about flowers? Did you own a garden?" Ryan asked with a chuckle.

"No, but my mother did. I spent many hours helping her before she died when I was ten. Since then, my father has been running my house like a jail."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ryan replied quietly.

"Don't be. I didn't tell any of you before now. As for my father, he only let me come so he could take the rewards from me when I get home," A tear clung to the corner of Tristan's eye, but he casually held it back.

After he finished picking the flowers, Tristan pulled the petals off very carefully. He prepared the poison first. The first thing he had to do was boil the petals until they fell apart, leaving the black veins of antidote whole. Then he took the veins out of the pot and set them aside. Next, he placed some rough stones in the pot and stirred it until it was a viscous red liquid. He then poured it into a bottle and sealed the lid with a cork.

The antidote was easier. All he had to do was cut the tips of the veins off and pour the liquid into a separate container. He threw the empty veins on the ground.

The miniature explosives were already prepared naturally, but they needed to be placed in a dry pouch. For this, he used a fur bag that he had made from a squirrel during their travels. The work was done and the small group got up and headed toward the area where Michael fought the bounty hunter.

They soon entered the small clearing. The prince looked around until he noticed something; the tree that he had kicked down was sitting in a different position. The peak of the tree was propped up against a small clump of bushes; the roots formed a shelter.

Michael crept over to the tree and peered under the root shelter, and what he saw shocked him. The girl was in a bed of soft moss, the white wolf beside her. The wolf let out a yelp that woke the sleeping girl.

"What are you doing here? Get out!" she shouted, trying to sit up. She winced and fell back down to the moss.

"I Just—"

She cut him off, "No! I don't care what you wanted to say, just go!" The girl looked away, waiting for Michael to leave. When he didn't move, she said "Fine, what do you want?"

"Reno convinced me to come back and help you, although I have no idea what with," Michael said as he swallowed down his anger towards her.

"Well, since you're here, you can grab me that stick over there by Bastian," she said, almost demanding.

"You mean that wolf?"

"No! I mean Bastian! My companion and my friend! Is that too hard to comprehend for your little brain? I can try to say it step by step if you need me to. Go to the stick, pick up the stick, walk over to me, and give the stick to me."

Michael swallowed hard and walked over to the white coated wolf named Bastian. He had always had a fear of dogs, since he was a little boy. He bent down and grabbed the stick, looking at the wolf the whole time.

Out of nowhere, the beast turned his head and showed his teeth to Michael, growling loudly. Michael jumped and hit his head on the ceiling. With his heart still racing, he shot a glare at the wolf, who looked away and laughed.

"Huh?" _A wolf can't laugh_. He realized that he just imagined it and that it was only another growl.

"Don't worry, he won't bite...hard," The girl grinned. "So where's that stick?"

Michael hurried over to the bed and passed it down to her. "Why couldn't you get it?"

"You hurt Bastian quite badly."

"And how does that affect you?"

"In more ways than one," The girl stood up with the aid of the stick. "You broke his left hind leg and a few ribs are cracked. He was very sore."

"How do you know, though? I don't get it," Michael was really confused with this one.

"Because I took on the pain and injury so he wouldn't have to suffer. I heal faster, though," She stroked Bastian's white fur.

"But why would you? I don't mean to be rude, but he is just a wolf. And how?"

"You have a very simple mind if you cannot understand sacrificing your own comfort for that of one you care deeply for, especially since you are doing the exact same thing right now," She sat down in a chair made of sticks tied together with ropes.

"What do you mean by that?" Michael could hardly believe that he was having a conversation with this girl.

"Five months ago you never would have thought that there was such thing as your magic, but here you are now. You are sacrificing your own comfort to _save_ the land. If I had told you then that you would someday lead our world into peace, would you have believed me?"

Not wanting to reveal his identity he answered, "No. How could I, being a poor ex-slave on the street who just so happened to stumble onto an amazing power, ever lead anyone?"

The girl turned to a wall and grabbed a root. "You're lying to me." She pulled the root from the wall, revealing that it was actually a dagger with the hilt designed to resemble a root. In a quick motion she cut the cloth at the bottom of his shirt and looked at the belt. She smiled. "Hello, Prince Michael."

Michael stammered and looked down at the glittering belt. He had just been tricked!

"You didn't think that you could hide for ever did you?" She jabbed the knife back into the wall, hiding it once again. "Don't worry, though; I'm on the other side, the good one."

Michael was confused. "What do you mean? You're the bounty hunter; you work for whoever sits on the throne."

"Not anymore. You see, when I killed that morphantom, I became one of the hunted. He has no use for me now that he has his new weapon anyway."

"New weapon?"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough. When I was the 'bounty hunter,' I was actually getting information that would help you once you were located. I only turned in the criminals that went against the laws of the real king, your father. That is what I meant by the other side. I was working for Malumous, but I was also working against him."

Michael leaned against the wall, dumbfounded. "So you actually think that I can lead all of Magentara to peace when I can't even win a fight against a girl."

"Well you really weren't that bad; I was just having some fun. If you only realized that anger isn't the most powerful fuel for magic, you would be almost unstoppable.

"Happiness, peace, joy, love, faith—those are the five most powerful forces in magic; anger has only a fraction of their power. The monster that we know as Malumous focuses on anger, hatred and lies because he has forgotten everything he has ever known of love and truth. He has a heart, but it has been through so much torture that it doesn't remember how to shine."

"But he's a murderer, and a thief! How can you believe that he has a heart?"

"Because as rude and angry as you were towards me, you came back. And trust me, I've seen another part of Malumous that you don't believe exists."

"If it is there, it can hide extremely well," he shrugged.

"What I'm trying to say is that this king of darkness is a person, no matter how good or bad. I want to help his heart shine again."

"I guess this means that we have one more person in our little group of... whatever you want to call us."

"How about," the girl paused to think, and then continued, "the Warriors of Peace?"

"That's awful," Michael said with a small smile. "By the way, I never did hear a name."

"Kaitala, but you can call me Kai."

"That is a unique name. Mind if I ask where it came from?"

"I just thought it up," She looked at him for a moment, then sighed. "Let me fix your nose, please!" Then she reached up suddenly, and with a gentle touch, Michael's nose gently snapped back into place without pain or bleeding.

"How—" Michael began, but was cut off.

"Shh. That isn't important. My magic isn't the same as yours, that's all you need to know for now."

After she put on her black outfit, Kaitala and Michael, along with Bastian, left the root house to greet the others. They shook hands and told her their names, and in return she shared her own. The only person that never shook her hand was Sphergol, who of course didn't have a hand to shake.

Everybody could tell that Ryan was enamored with the girl. He tried to hide it so hard that it was obvious. "It's a pleasure to meet you! You are an amazing fighter. I don't idolize you, but that was incredible! Just so you know, I think that it would be insane if I liked you more than just a friend."

Kaitala smiled and covered her mouth. She realized that she could have some fun with this lovesick boy who called himself Ryan. All she had to do is go with the flow and seize every available opportunity. "I'm glad you feel that way."

"Well, it's settled; Kaitala has joined us," Michael said raising his head in a symbol of leadership.

"That means that you have to listen to my opinion on things. I say the next place we should go is to my hideout, in the center of the forest."

"Why?" Ryan asked.

"I need to get some herbs, food, and exploding knives. You know, just the usual necessities of a retired assassin," She paused for a moment, and then, in her male voice, "Are you coming?"

_The other side,_ Michael thought with a smile _, the good side._

Chapter 15: The Coast of the Dead

The sun reached its highest point the next day as the four traveling heroes, a bounty hunter, a wolf, and a glowing reddish-yellow orb entered a beautiful grove with an unnaturally large tree at its center. It stood four times the height of the rest of the trees in the forest. The diameter of the massive pine was about fifty feet.

All of the people in the group except for Kai gasped in unison.

"Welcome to my home. There was no room for a cottage, so I made this beautiful tree into my own little playground," She said in her normal voice.

"You live in a tree?" Ryan said. "Like on the branches or something? Are you a squirrel?"

"No, I'm not quite a squirrel. And I don't live on the branches, I live _in_ the tree," She laughed.

Ryan stared at her blankly. "I don't get it."

"Come on, we don't have all day," She ran over to the tree, the rest of the group behind her. They all began to climb up, with the exception of Bastian, to a hole about twenty feet from the ground, but Ryan couldn't get a good grip on the tree. After about a minute, Michael jumped down, grabbed Ryan's shirt and dragged him up to the hole.

The hole was actually the entrance to a wooden cave within the tree. Straight ahead was a long hallway. There was a ladder going up and down about five feet toward the center of the tree.

"Up we go," she said as she grabbed the ladder.

Ten feet up the ladder, Kaitala jumped off onto a wood floor below. When the other people in the group did the same, they realized that it was another hall, but this one had rows upon rows of weapons. Kai began to walk along the rows, grabbing knives, daggers and arrows.

"What about the bow?" Tristan asked.

"Got it covered," she said as she grabbed a small cylinder with grip marks on it and a bow string attached to both ends off of the wall. She wrapped the string around the cylinder and placed it in her bag.

After she got all of her supplies, the traveling warriors left the treehouse and traveled toward the shore that was shown in the book taken from Ahtala's shop, a body of water known as The Sea of the Dead.

"Why does the sea have such a dark name?" Tristan asked.

"Because of the amount of blood that was spilled during the battle which took place many years ago, staining the sands red," Kaitala informed. "When the battle was over, all the bodies were either buried, burned, or tossed into the sea to rot."

The group walked for an hour before the sea came into view, it was another two before they reached the shore. The murky green water was surrounded by sand with a reddish tint to it. Nothing but algae and small flesh-eating insects lived near it.

Ryan stepped out onto the sand and heard a loud crunching sound. He dared to look down, and what he saw almost made him vomit: the remains of a human skull poking out of the sand.

"That's disgusting!" Tristan stifled a gag.

"So this is why they call it the Sea of the Dead," Michael said, looking across the bone littered shore.

"Now we need to figure out how to go under it," Reno said as he scratched his chin under his thick beard.

"Can't we swim across?" Ryan asked.

"Not unless you like leaches that are three feet long and currents that carry the remains of dead soldiers," Kai said and shoved Ryan lightly.

"But we have to get across somehow," Michael stated.

"Did you forget that Ahtala said to go under the sea?" Tristan said. "That means that there must be a cave or tunnel that goes under water,"

"Right, a cave, let's start looking," Ryan said and ran off.

After two hours of searching the many dunes and rocks upon the blood-stained sand, they had found nothing but death. It seemed like an impossible task, one that would take years to complete. Nevertheless, the entire group put forth an effort in the search.

When hope of finding a tunnel under the sea faded away to nothing, the people and glowing ball returned to the site where they began.

"No tunnels, at least not big enough for us to even crawl through," Ryan sighed.

Michael was too busy staring at the top of the shattered skull to notice that his companions were having a conversation. He was intrigued by the dead body because of the position it was in. the prince could tell that rather than lying down, the ancient, yellowed skeleton was in a standing position. Feeling drawn to the mysterious bones, he began to dig the soft sand away with his hands.

"What are you doing?" Tristan asked, nervously staring at Michael's odd behavior.

"Don't you think you should leave bones in peace?" Reno suggested.

"Notice that he is standing?" Michael gestured toward the skeleton, "A corpse would never be buried like that, but for some reason _he_ is," Michael had uncovered the head and shoulder and discovered that he was fully armored. The entire set of armor, aside from the helmet, was intact.

One inch at a time, the standing dead man was uncovered. In a few hours, he had reached the waist of the warrior, where he suddenly stopped.

"Wow!" Tristan exclaimed as he leaned in for a closer look at the golden belt made of tiny rings, all looping into one another. On the front of the belt there was a pentagonal shape with a familiar symbol on it—an F with a tiny c between the two lines.

"That has to be the royal belt of the Defre-Lanc! But why is it here?" Michael reached down with two fingers and brushed the dirt off of the crest, revealing the white symbol embedded into the sparkling blue stone around it.

"So, what do we do?" Reno pondered

"We take it to the owners of the belt, that's what we should do," Michael said as he began to take the belt off of the body.

"It could be a while before we get there," Ryan said as he examined the belt.

"We will keep it safe until then," the prince removed the belt from the hole and held it in his hand.

"Michael, it's moving!" Reno exclaimed as the ends of the belt seemed to reach for his companions.

Michael began to feel as if the gold was melting the flesh on his hand. The heat was so unbearable that he threw the belt to the red sand below. His eyes widened as he watched the skin on his hand bubble and bleed.

He heard a sound that was a cross between a bark and a chuckle. He quickly turned in the direction of the sound, only to see the white coated wolf.

The belt lay there on the red sand. Michael noticed that slowly the sand around it turned white. Soon, the circle of white on the reddish sand reached the toes of Michael's boots. He bent over and grabbed the belt with a thick piece of cloth that Kai had brought.

"He is not happy," Sphergol said, still glowing red with almost evil power.

"Who is not happy?" Tristan inquired.

"Aamad, he was the first leader of the Defre-Lanc. Aamad may be dead, but his essence lives on for eternity in the belt, fueling its power."

Michael quickly looked around, as if searching for the ghost of Aamad. There was nothing there, so he looked back at Sphergol. The prince folded the belt as well as he could and opened his satchel to place it inside.

Ryan looked into the bag and noticed the sheath that held the odd blade known as the Talon. "What is that?" he asked.

"I stole this from my father before I fled the castle. He said it was powerful, but I think it's just a decoration."

Ryan's eyes seemed to glimmer, but he shook it off and turned away. Michael gazed at him for a moment, then hurried down into his hole and continued to dig.

He reached the knees and ankles, but before he uncovered the feet, the prince heard a loud rumble from overhead, and a shadow blocked out the sun. He looked up and saw nothing but the blue sky and a cloud that moved a fair amount too fast. He studied the unique spiral movement and he noticed that it was getting closer.

The cloud remained the same shape, but the sky around it rippled and seemed to form arms, legs and a head. As it drew closer he realized that it was not the sky at all, but a huge beast with claws and fangs. The wings were shaped almost like bat wings; thin soft membrane ribbed a bony hand-shaped frame. It was all sky blue, aside from the patches of white on the belly and gray back.

"What is that thing, a dragon?" Ryan asked.

"No! Dragons are a myth, fool. This is a Heavyfang; this one was bred to hide in the sky, whether it is a clear day or foggy. Amazing creatures, really, and extremely rare," Sphergol held a strange reverence to the beast.

"Well that amazing creature wants to eat us!" Ryan yelled at her.

"No, we're too small for even a mouthful. We are more likely to fight the person riding it, who is either Malumous himself, or one of his pawns. Either way, it shall indeed be amusing to watch," Sphergol chuckled.

"You don't plan on helping?" Michael asked Sphergol.

"No, I may possibly watch though. I would prefer not to get dirty," She chimed.

"What is your problem? Ever since you entered into my mind to save me from changing over to dark magic, you've been acting strange."

"No I haven't!"

"Whether you want to agree or not, something is wrong with you. We all noticed it," Michael said, as the monster and its human master descended upon them.

The ground shook and a sound like thunder sounded as the beast landed on its front legs, lowering the thin rear legs to the ground slowly. The muscles in its front limbs and huge chest rippled as it lay down. The beast let out a piercing roar that left Michael clutching his ears.

Kaitala pulled the hood up over her hair and wrapped the black scarf around her face.

Michael looked up at the beast and saw a red figure standing between the two massive horns on its head. The figure, who Michael assumed was male, walked down the beast's flat head toward the rounded snout. Before he reached the nostrils, which were wide enough for a young child to crawl into, he made a great leap in the direction of the five humans and the Magic Sphere.

The jump seemed to last for minutes until he began to descend in a freefall for over a hundred feet. He folded his arms across his chest and stiffened his body in order to fall with more speed. When he was twenty yards from the ground, he let himself loose as if he were laying on a soft bed.

"He's going to kill himself!" Reno yelled just before the strange man collided with the sand.

Blood-stained earth splashed in every direction, and dust billowed. Ten still seconds passed before the dust faded and revealed a tall man, armored in red with Malumous's black dagger on both the breastplate and the helm, which covered his entire face aside from the eye slit across his face. The man stood and drew two long, thin swords from the black cloth sheaths that crossed his back. He ran toward the five people who were prepared for the attack. The tips of his two single edged swords scratched parallel lines in the sand.

Reno stepped out in front of the armored man but was pushed aside by an unseen force. He fell to the ground on his left side, injuring his shoulder on a rock that protruded an inch above the sand. All the while the man kept running.

Tristan shot two arrows at the man one after the other, but they did no harm. As if they were nothing more than flies, he knocked the darts aside with the flat of his left sword. Tristan was also knocked aside by the same invisible force.

Ryan stuck his foot out in an attempt to trip the advancing stranger but the man threw his right sword in the air and shot a thin white beam toward Ryan's outstretched leg. The beam bent around Ryan's ankle and tossed him aside. With incredible coordination, the man caught the sword and kept the same pace with his running.

The only people left standing were the stranger, Michael, and Kai. Despite the pain that it caused to her ribs and leg, Kai jumped into the air and threw a knife at the man. The small silver blade sank into the man's armored chest. The soldier fumbled with the grip until he got a good hold on the knife. He pulled it out and tossed it into the soft ground, where it shimmered red for three seconds before it exploded, leaving a smoldering crater two feet in diameter.

The man continued to run toward his enemies. Michael noticed that the armor repaired itself, the same as the soldiers in their first brawl. The man was stopped short when Kai delivered a powerful kick with her good leg to the side of his head.

Michael sprinted forward with his sword held in a firm, but not tight grip, for he was equipped with his spiked gauntlets as well as his blade. He bolted toward the stranger, prepared for any possible attack from the enemy. The prince quickly planned his first strike.

Michael leaped over the man's head, which was about six feet off the ground. When he collided with the fine red sand, he crouched and jumped, performing a one hundred and eighty degree turn in mid-air. He sliced the amour on the man's back in a diagonal line from the left shoulder all the way to the right hip.

The man stumbled, for the cut sank into his flesh a centimeter deep. Although the wound should have reached the spine, the blade of Michael's sword jumped less than the width of a thumbnail away from where the vertebrae ran down his back and plunged back into the flesh once again the same distance after the spine. The red material produced thin threads, which wound together and fused the metal-like armor back to the original shape.

The man stood and said in a tone that Michael found oddly familiar, "Oh. I should have known it was you. I have no time for this fight that you insist on winning; I only want to please the king," The man crossed the two swords toward Michael's neck as he lunged forward.

Michael had barely gotten out of the way and the man hit the ground and rolled forward. The soldier jumped to his feet and grabbed Kai by the arm and held a sword to her neck, "you make one move, and I kill him!"

_What to do, what to do?_ Michael swallowed hard. _If I can project a thought to Kai we can strategize and I can save her!_ He thought of how he could reach her mind, _I might be able to think of my thought being in her head._

Michael attempted to send the message to her. _Kaitala! Can you hear me?_ There was no reply.

His plan was useless, the belt never even warmed around his waist. His defeat was at hand, he would never see light again, and he would be lost in a dark eternity of death forever.

He remembered his parents, how they would always help him when he was in any kind of trouble. He remembered his loyal servant and friend, Fredric, the same one who had helped him escape from the castle in the first place. Michael remembered the peace and love that he was too selfish to see when it was right in front of him, and he wanted it back.

The armored man looked up with hatred in his bright blue eyes and said, "Now, you can turn around and make this quicker and less painful for yourself, or you can stand there like a fool trying to prove a courage that we both know is not there."

Tristan, Ryan, Reno, Bastian and Sphergol all remained out of the way, not wanting to get between these three powerful people. Sphergol could not, however, sit out on the action this time and she faded into nothing as she entered Michael's mind.

Michael felt a strange tingle in his body and a cruel smirk crossed his face, but it did not last long. He spoke to the magical being, who was swirling around every corner of his mind. _What are you doing? I thought you were going to sit this one out._

She said in a heartless tone, _I can't just sit by while you sacrifice your life for this girl. You are too important for the future of this world to be killed when you are so young._

_She is a friend! I will not stand by and watch her die!_ He replied.

You are a fool! Don't you realize that a bounty hunter who works for the king does not just join forces with the people who have the biggest bounty of all? This whole thing was planned; if you charge in at him I can guarantee that he won't kill her.

The idea of Kai still working for Malumous disturbed Michael. He had never even thought of her as being the reason for the appearance of this man. He was about to charge at the two of them when he thought, _the sand! I can use it to hurt him!_

Michael raised a stream of sand behind the soldier. He willed it to float above his head like a cloud. Michael held it there until the man looked up. As soon as the eye holes angled up to the dust, Michael propelled two jets of sand down into the eye slit. The man released Kai and groped at the hole full of sand.

Kai elbowed the soldier in the chest, leaving a dent in the red breastplate. The armor repaired itself, but it left enough time for her to stab a knife into his leg and limp over to Michael.

"Stay away from me!" Michael stepped back and held up his sword. "I mean it!" his expression suddenly shifted to a panicked and worried face. "No, no. I didn't mean it!" He lowered his sword.

The soldier in red had cleaned out most of the sand from his eyes without taking his helmet off, and he stood with his eyes watering and red from the irritation. "This is not over! I will be back, and you shall suffer!" The man pulled the knife from his leg and slowly backed toward to the Heavyfang. The beast took flight and fell over the horizon within minutes.

Chapter 16: Under the Sea

Michael looked all around him. He saw the footprints in the sand, the little drops of blood, uprooted clumps of dead grass and the small crater. There was evidence everywhere that the fight had happened.

"Kai, Kai! Are you hurt? Let me help you!" Ryan said as he ran up and down the small sand drifts.

"I am fine. But I am glad that you care so much," she replied with a forced smile.

Michael sat down on the edge of the hole he had dug and grumbled, "Yeah, at least _somebody_ can still smile."

"What are you talking about? I'm the one who just had a sword blade cutting the skin on my neck!" Kaitala growled.

"We were ambushed! You possibly pose a threat to all of us, and we still have no way to get across this cursed sea!" Michael stood and threw a head-sized stone into the briny water as far away as he could. Seconds passed before he heard a splash, but he saw nothing through the fog which had rolled in with wind from the north.

"I think that before we go any further with this journey, we need to settle our differences," Kaitala looked at Michael. "Why did you tell me to stay away from you, and then change your mind seconds later?"

The other people left the area to give them some privacy when Michael refused to speak otherwise. Once they were gone, Kaitala asked him again.

A malicious grin crossed his face. "I know that you are somehow able to contact Malumous behind my back."

"What? I left him thinking that I was bringing you back to the castle with me. Why would I want to put a bounty on my own head, dead or alive, unless I thought that I could help free Magentara? I am not accustomed to being the hunted."

Michael's grin faded and the panicked expression reappeared. "What is happening to me?" He searched his mind for Sphergol and commanded her to leave. Moments later, she appeared, floating near Michael.

Kaitala looked at the expression on Michael's face and took it that he wanted to be alone. Without a word she turned and walked away.

"What were you just doing?" Michael asked the red glowing ball.

"I was simply telling you the truth; she can't be trusted," a hollow voice answered.

"By ruining my friendship with Kai? Is that telling the truth? There _is_ something wrong with you. You have become dark."

"Nonsense, I have simply decided that I want to be red now, which is the reason I have changed. The only one with a problem is you! You accept every stranger that you meet, not even the slightest worried that one of them is going to betray you to Malumous."

"How can you be sure? You aren't human; you do not have these emotions."

"What emotions do you mean—love, joy, _friendship_? Who needs emotions? Emotions are what have weakened mankind. They remove your better judgment and you hesitate to kill!"

"Is it such a bad thing, not to kill?"

"It is when you are fighting a war!" The words seemed to explode out of nowhere.

Michael stepped toward the sphere, casting a dull red glow across his features. "We are not yet in a war, and you should not forget that. It is pointless to try and convince me that Kai is contacting Malumous! Have I made myself clear? If I discover that she is a spy for Malumous, then we will take action, but not until then."

"Your trust will one day make you fall. Eventually, you will meet someone, take them in and be turned over to Malumous himself because you _trust_ everyone you meet. Don't you realize what is at stake if you are captured, or do you only care about what you want?"

Michael sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which was now down to his eyes, for it had grown since they left Jenoth. "You may be right, but until I know for sure that there is a traitor in our midst, I can do nothing. Stay clear of Kai, I feel that I can trust her more than Reno, Ryan, Tristan, and even you."

"You are making a mistake, but nevertheless I am loyal to you," Sphergol said with spite.

"Sphergol," Michael said, "I appreciate all that you have done for me, but until you tell me why your attitude toward Kaitala is so bad, you are not welcome in my mind. I will not allow you to control my tongue again," He turned his back to her and walked away.

Once he finally reached his group, they headed back to the dead body of Aamad. Sphergol was already there when they returned, studying the corpse. She drifted over to them and said, "Michael, you must see this!"

They all rushed over to the hole and peered inside. In the faint red light that emitted off of Sphergol, Michael could see a large disk under the standing corpse. He reached over and pushed on the cold breastplate. He heard the creaking sound of sliding metal and the corpse tilted back.

"Help me! We need to pull this out!" Michael urged as he tried to pull the armored skeleton out of the hole. Kaitala grabbed a hold beside Michael and one by one the others joined in the effort. They soon had the figure out in the sunlight, where Michael realized that the only reason that Aamad stood was that the armor had been melted together at the joints. Carefully, they laid the dead leader down on the sand.

Michael looked at the bottom of the metal base and he saw words written in gold paint. He crouched down and read them out loud. "My name is Aamad. If you are reading this, it means that I have passed from this life. I have claimed this sandy tomb to be my resting place, as well as my death, so that I could protect my belt and the city that I hold so dear," Michael stopped, and speaking for himself said, "He melted his own armor together and had somebody bury him alive so he could protect the people he cared about."

"Please, finish reading," Sphergol said.

Michael continued, "I have chosen to die on this pedestal with hope that the promise of a prince and savior will be fulfilled. Only he can open the entrance the first time, but after my blood seal is broken, the weight of my armor will not be able to keep the dark forces out. When you enter the tunnel, it is of great importance that you seal the entrance back over and bury it, for if not, evil will find us. Make haste, for the fate of the world rests in your hands."

" _We_ have to go down _there_?" Ryan asked as he peered down into the metal-rimed hole.

"That's what it says, and our directions specifically say to go under the Sea of the Dead," Tristan said. "This is the Sea of the Dead, and that hole is a good way to get under it."

"Maybe, but—"

Reno cut him off. "But what, are you afraid of the dark or something?"

"No! It's just that, well, I have always had this tense feeling when I go in a cave," he said with an edge of nervousness in his voice then laughed. "We'd best get moving, that man will be back before long."

They all agreed, although Ryan hesitated at first. Michael and Kaitala slid down the edge of the bank and into the hole, followed by Tristan. Once they were in, Bastian, the wolf, jumped down with Ryan close behind. Reno struggled to fit down into the hole, but with no success.

"We need a bigger hole up here!" Reno yelled down past his body.

"There is no way to make the hole bigger!" he heard Tristan shout from somewhere beneath.

"Pull yourself back up onto the sand," Michael said.

From below, all Michael could see were Reno's legs, from the waist down. He could tell that Reno was attempting to move because his legs were bending slightly and he could hear muffled grunts of strain from above. Still, Reno didn't move up, nor down.

"It's no use, I can't move," Then Reno got an idea, "What if Sphergol could change my body—"

Sphergol cut him off. "I can't use magic when Michael refuses to let me enter his mind," She sounded resentful.

"And why not?" Reno asked.

"Because I need his mind and my power combined to perform any act of magic; he's on his own."

"Then I will," Michael stepped up to the dangling feet.

"I wouldn't if I were you, Michael," Sphergol whispered to him. "With the strength it will take to alter his body composition, you'd be better off to leave him here and continue on."

"Then I will help him!" Kaitala said.

Kai grabbed Michael's hand, and he felt an exhilarating power flow between them, he assumed that the same thing happened to her because she shivered, then said, "Are you ready?"

He nodded then felt the energy pass to Reno, who decreased over an inch in diameter and slid down the hole onto the stone ground. With the same flow of magic they used on Reno, they moved the armored skeleton and filled the crater back up with sand.

They released their grip on each other's hands, and Reno returned to his normal size. Michael felt no different than before, and he still had the same amount of energy.

Each person in the group was in the tunnel, lit by the dim red glow of Sphergol. The air was cool and damp, and it smelt of death. Michael could see that there was something large moving ahead, but couldn't tell what it was.

The prince took one step into the darkness of the tunnel, and the footstep echoed back. It would be at least a two day's journey to the end. This much he knew.

"Sphergol, go ahead," Michael suggested, "Give us some light so we can see."

Sphergol hovered half way between the floor and the ceiling. It was hard to see in the dim red light, but there were several visible passageways in every direction. The walls were slick with algae and it smelled of rot. The main tunnel seemed to have been carved with care, forming an arched path through the earth, where the others were rough and random.

"How are we supposed to know which way to go?"

"We have to go under the sea," Kai said, "so I would assume that if we travel this main path in a downward slope until we reach the lowest point, and then keep following the same back to the surface we will make it to the other side.

"But we don't know," Sphergol said, "if Michael would allow me to access his mind to work my magic, I would navigate for you, but I am not of much use if he does not let me."

"We have no need for magic to navigate a cave; we only need to stop and think," Reno said, an edge on his voice.

"Bah, _no need for magic_ , he says," Sphergol retorted.

"Do you remember," Michael asked, "when you told me that one of the rules of magic was deciding when it is needed, or when I can get through a situation using my intelligence or physical ability? You said that, and now you question it?"

"I have learned to question everything—even you and your _decisions_!"

Chapter 17: The Bottom

The group marched on in the dark tunnel. An occasional drop of briny water landed on Michael's head, startling him in the dim.

He looked over at Kai, who had her hood over her head, but not the scarf that hid her face. She walked with her eyes to the ground and her lips pressed together.

"Kai, what is it?" Michael asked.

"What?" she asked, quickly looking up at the prince. "You seem troubled. What are you thinking?"

"It doesn't make sense. The tunnel was concealed under Aamad and buried, so why would they have taken the time to dig all of these extra tunnels?"

"Maybe they wanted to confuse any unwanted visitors," Michael suggested.

"No, I don't believe that could be the reason. The writing at the entrance said that only you could open the entrance the first time, so who would they be trying to fool?"

"I don't know, the Defre-Lanc have strange ways. They have been forced to be unpredictable for all these years in order to survive. Maybe it is best not to question their motives for now."

Suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion, Michael sat down to rest.

"Get up," Reno said, "we don't have time to rest. We will run out of air down here in no time, I don't think we should sleep it away."

"We should be fine," Kaitala assured. "We have been down here for hours, and breath is no harder to find than before. There must be an opening somewhere to let air in."

"She is right," Sphergol said.

"We have been down here for a long time," Ryan said. "We should rest now and continue later. It should be safe, so nobody will have to keep watch."

Examining the walls of the side tunnels, Reno noticed that they were much different than the larger main path. They were scratched and uneven, almost as if they had been dug out afterward. "Who knows what sort of creatures could be lurking in this dim? We keep watch," Reno said sternly with his hand pressed against the wall.

After the group was well rested, they continued on their way. Hours passed by with idle conversation and faint warmth touched Michael's face, slowly growing into a heat. A yellow and orange glow emitted from around a slight bend, reflecting on the damp wall. The heat was almost unbearable.

As they approached, the group gasped at the sight. Bastian whimpered and hid behind Kai.

"What is that?" Tristan asked, shielding his nose from the strong fumes.

"It's molten rock! That smell is sulfur," Reno said.

"That is amazing," Ryan said.

"I never thought I would see something like this in my time!" Reno exclaimed, "We must be leagues underground to find something like this."

"No," Kai said as she reached up to feel the stone above their heads, "The ceiling is still cold and damp, which means that the bottom of the sea is right over our heads. At its deepest, the Sea of the Dead is only one hundred feet."

"But that would mean..." Reno paused, his face growing concerned; "We have to find a way out of here, and fast."

"What is the matter?" Ryan asked.

"This place is going to turn into a fire hill, and unless we want to become ashes, we have to get out."

"Surely it wouldn't happen that quickly," Sphergol said.

"We can't be sure. We have to get out as soon as possible. Look, the ground is melting around that pool."

Sure enough, small pieces of rock broke off the path and fell into the river of magma. The ground trembled gently under their feet.

"We will have to navigate through one of these side paths," Kia said.

"Well, let's not waste time," Tristan urged, "We can draw a marker for every time we turn, so we don't get turned around."

"We don't have any choice," Michael said, looking at Sphergol.

"Well, I am not going to go off traipsing through the caverns—I can fly over the molten rock and wait on the other side," Sphergol said.

"No, we should stay together. We might not come out at the other side; we might be further than that. Besides, we need a light," Michael reasoned.

"So light a torch. I am not a slave," Sphergol retorted, and then vanished over the bubbling rock.

"Alright then," Ryan said with a sigh.

"We don't even _have_ torches!" Michael complained.

"I have five flares that will last an hour or more each," Kaitala said, "we should be able to catch up with her by then."

_Chapter 18: Lament_

Kaitala pulled a strange stick out of the pack she had brought along. She struck it off of the wall, igniting it. It cast a weary orange light on the walls and the ceiling.

The group traveled into the side tunnel closest to where they were. They walked on in silence for quite some time before Ryan spoke. "Where is Bastian?"

Michael hadn't noticed, but it was true. The wolf was nowhere to be seen.

"He went on ahead to explore," Kaitala said.

"But he could get lost!" Ryan protested.

"Not likely," Argued Tristan, "Wolves are excellent trackers. That instinct never goes away when you tame a beast."

An uncomfortable silence fell, and the only sound was the plodding of their feet and an occasional drop of water falling into a puddle.

"Tristan is right," Kai spoke with assurance. "Bastian is the best tracker in all of Magentara. If he could get lost in here, we are all doomed to die anyway."

"Why do you put so much trust in that animal?" Reno growled through clenched teeth.

"What do you mean?"

"You insist that we call him by name. You treat him as if he was a person, but at any moment he could turn on you. He is an animal, a _wolf_!"

"Does it bother you that I have a true companion?"

"No, it bothers me that you have that _beast_ tagging along!"

"Have you ever owned a dog?" Kaitala asked.

"No, they all have the genes of wild beasts. They only earn your trust long enough to get behind your back, then it's too late!"

Everyone went silent, and Reno put his face against his arm and leaned against the cavern wall. His broad shoulders trembled, and his breath came in broken segments.

"Reno," Michael said as he cautiously approached, "What happened?"

Reno stood and wiped the tears from his eyes discretely.

"When I met Sonya, it was the best day of my life. I was just a young lad then, starting my career as a blacksmith. I lived outside of the city then; I found it easier to focus on my craft. I was hammering a horseshoe into form when _she_ walked in. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her golden locks curled down her back. She wore a blue dress that day.

"In my distraction, I brought my hammer down on my thumb." Reno smiled. "She rushed over and asked if I was alright. Her voice was sweet as honey; as soft as silk.

"She needed two metal rings made to hold a wooden bucket together; the cooper was out and would not have a shipment for another month. I had some already, but I made two more in front of her. She knew I was just trying to impress her, but she humored me. We began to visit each other regularly, and our hearts grew together. We got married and bought a small home where we could live our lives and raise a child.

"We tried for five years, but she never conceived a child. Making farm tools doesn't bring enough income to see a doctor; we had given up hope of having a child of our own, and we couldn't afford an official adoption.

"Many years passed as we spent our lives together. She always apologized for not being able to bear children. We were in our mid years, and I began to accept the fact that I would not have a child to carry on my name. Months later, my wife started to get sick. She would throw up in the mornings, and she didn't have as much energy.

"I took her to see a woman who had cared for me when I was ill as a young man. If anybody would know what to do, it would be her. She took my wife back into a curtained room, and I heard low murmuring. Then my wife shouted 'What?'

"I rushed in, thinking there was something wrong, and my beautiful wife grinned up at me 'I am with child.' She beamed. I embraced her, and my dear old friend gave me a pat on the back.

"As the months passed and winter approached, my wife's belly grew round. I went out to harvest wood in the forest, when I heard screaming coming from the house.

"My wife had been picking the vegetables in the garden, but when I got there I couldn't believe what I saw..." Reno drew a deep breath, holding back tears. His face was anguished. "It was a pack of wild dogs; nine in total. They had attacked Sonya in the garden, and they were mauling her in the mud.

"The dogs saw me, and they snarled. The hair on their spine stood and their bloody teeth were exposed. Then they came for me. I had an axe in my hand that I had been using to down the small trees I would use for our fireplace, but now I would cut down these beasts. One by one, they fell, until only the pack leader lived.

"He was a large wolf. His gray fur was streaked with my wife's blood. But his most peculiar feature was that he only had one ear. The other had been cut off straight. I charged the animal, but it ran into the forest. I never saw him again.

"I knelt down beside my wife. She was still breathing, but her eyes were glazed over.

"She was mangled. I didn't dare to look down upon her body, just her face. 'Reno,' she said, 'I'm so sorry,' a single tear streamed down her torn face.

"There was no hope for her. I couldn't get her to a doctor in time, and even if I did she would still die. The doctors could possibly mend the wounds, but she would have died of infection."

Reno sobbed, "That was just over a year ago. Word came to the king that I had slain most of the pack, and he offered me a position in the royal guard. I declined, but I did become the royal smith."

Everything went silent yet again. _That was my fault,_ Michael thought to himself. _I should have killed that wolf, but it got away. Now I have innocent blood on my hands._

"Tristan, Ryan, Kai. Leave us alone for a moment," Michael said out loud.

They went without argument, leaving Michael with the Flair. They lit a new one and walked on.

"We will wait at the next turn," Kai said.

"Thank you," Michael said.

A long moment passed before anyone spoke, but it was Reno who broke the silence. "What, boy? Can a man not grieve his wife and unborn child?"

"I'm sorry..." Michael stammered.

"No, it is I who is sorry. I never should have left Sonya alone. It is my fault she died."

"No, Reno. It is my fault," Michael said softly. He told Reno the whole story of how he had saved Topaz from the wolves, but missed one. "He must have left the castle forests in search of a new pack. He must have formed up with the wild dogs. I'm so sorry," Michael lowered his stinging eyes.

He suddenly felt Reno's large hand press down on his shoulder. "Do not blame yourself, Michael. You did not send that wolf to my home."

"But I sent him away from mine," Michael argued, "That wolf took away your family! I sent it away because I wanted to save a horse, and you lost your child because of it."

"That may be true, but now I can see a different working of fate. You helped me to realize something just now."

"What?"

"The wolf has tied our lives together. If he had not taken the life of my wife and child, I wouldn't have moved to Jenoth. I wouldn't have met you, and you wouldn't have gotten the belt. The actions of the wolf seemed to go against us, but in truth, it was always meant to be."

Michael laughed bitterly, "Fate is a cruel maiden, if there ever was such a thing."

"No, it was the Being at work. It is guiding us. This day has been in the workings much longer than we realize. That wolf may have taken away my wife, but it brought me a son," Reno looked down at Michael.

"Reno..." Michael began, then embraced the man.

"Shall we catch up with the others?" Reno asked, somewhat taken aback.

Michael agreed, and they moved on.

Chapter 19: Scratching in the Dim

After a while, they caught up with the others. There was a four-way intersection of the paths.

"Bastian went down one of these tunnels," Kai said, "I think it would be best if we rested here until he comes back."

"We don't have time," Reno said, kneeling down to touch the stone floor. "The floor could melt from beneath us at any time. See, it is warm to the touch! Not to mention the flares. I don't want to be caught in the dark down here."

Kaitala was reluctant, but even she had to agree. They decided to take the path to the left.

After walking for a short while, the group noticed a soft glow coming from one of the paths ahead.

"Could that be the way out?" Tristan asked.

"I don't know what else it could be," Michael said, and hurried on, tailed closely by his companions.

They were shocked when they found the source of the glow, however. The group stopped in the center of a huge cavern littered with glowing blue stones.

The stones were all the same size and shape. Ryan picked one up, feeling the smooth surface in his cupped hands. It was the size of a small melon.

"It feels warm," he said, "What are these?"

"They look like they would be valuable," Tristan said. "Perhaps this is a hidden treasure, buried by the Defre-Lanc. That would explain the labyrinth of paths."

"I have never seen stones like these before," Kaitala said, somewhat unnerved.

"They would be useful," Reno said, "We could use them the see by if our flairs run out."

Michael was exploring the cavern, when he suddenly urged frantically, "Put that down Ryan!"

"What's wrong?" Ryan asked.

"Just do as I say! Come see this, all of you."

Ryan set the stone on the ground and walked over to where Michael stared down into a crevice in the floor.

Ryan gasped. Deep inside the crack in the earth was a faint blue glow. Michael picked up something from the edge of the pit.

It looked the same as the blue stone, but it was a thin sliver. The blue was slightly faded from the surface, and it looked the same as the glow in the pit.

"These aren't stones," Michael said. "They're eggs."

"What kind of creature could lay so many eggs of this size at once?" Kaitala pondered.

Just then, there was a faint scratching on the ground behind them. They turned, and her question was answered. The creature was long and low to the ground. Its body was like a serpent crossed with a worm, but that is when the recognizable features ended.

The monster's mouth was a narrow slit across the whole of its flat spade-like face. Thousands of razor teeth protruded from inside the mouth as far back as the eye could see. Its eyes were small and black, resting in the corner of its head. The creature had two nostrils right above the mouth, centered between the eyes. Where the corners of its mouth were, there were faint lines that rippled the whole way down the body, dividing it into two tones; deep purple on top and glowing blue on the bottom.

Long insect-like legs were attached to the body two yards back from the head. Instead of feet, however, the creature had large hooked spades that gouged the rock. Lining its entire body were small human-like arms with sharp hardened claws. The worm-like creature used these to help propel itself through the narrow passages that it could dig with its mouth and front spades.

The glowing blue skin flashed brightly, then extinguished, leaving the group disoriented. The creature half slithered, half crawled its way toward them.

Regaining his bearings just in time, Michael dodged the gaping mouth that would have shredded him to pieces in seconds.

"Run to the sides! We have to circle it!" he shouted and bolted to the right past the monster.

They couldn't afford to get trapped in the tunnels with the monster behind them. It would know the territory too well, and would corner them with ease. The only option was to wear it down in the cavern, where there was room to maneuver.

The monster lifted the front of its hulking body high into the air and doubled over on itself, turning very sharply in pursuit of the prince.

The creature reared to strike. Michael was still recovering for his previous evasion as the monster plunged for its target.

"Oh, no you don't!" Reno said as he hefted his axe into the creature's leg. There was a snap, and the limb buckled.

The creature stumbled sideways and missed, but it quickly stood back up. It turned to face Reno and hissed.

With a limp, it shuffled towards him. The blacksmith stood and waited for the monster to strike. Reno lifted his battle-axe to the sky and with a roar, caught the creature in the mouth. The corners of its mouth split, and it reared back with a piercing roar like nails on smooth slate.

Glowing purple blood smeared the floor and splashed the walls. The creature stood, its jawless mouth hanging down.

Then, miraculously and terrifyingly, the split flesh began to mend itself at an alarming rate. Threads wove the skin back together the same way that the enchanted amour worn by Malumous's soldiers mended itself.

Michael knew they had only angered it more. In moments it would fight again, and it would succeed in killing them if it was not killed quickly.

"Reno, take out the front legs! Ryan, go for the sides; Kai, I am going to need your help!" Everyone did as they were ordered.

Reno swung his axe into the joint of the creature's legs. Without the support they gave, it slammed into the ground writhing. Ryan ran along the body, holding his sword in the soft flesh. Remains of various animals spilled onto the floor. Kaitala rushed to Michael's side.

"What are you going to do?" Kaitala asked.

"We need to bring that stalactite down," Michael said as he pointed to the ceiling.

"Have you lost your mind? That could drop the entire sea on our heads!"

"What's worse? Dying because of this beast, or to die knowing that we tried?"

"Fine," she agreed.

The same as before, she grabbed Michael's hand. He focused on splitting the tooth of hardened minerals off of the roof of the cave with surgical precision.

The needle-like spire plunged into the body of the monster and pinned it to the ground.

There was a groan as the ceiling protested the sudden change, but it held.

The creature thrashed violently, and Michael jumped onto its back. He straddled it like a horse, and then with a mighty roar, he cleaved off the head of the monster. The trashing stopped, but the body still convulsed slightly.

The body deflated as its blood and animal remains poured out, leaving an empty husk. Kaitala rushed over and filled a flask with the glowing purple fluid. Ryan looked at her strangely, but she continued her task.

"It could be useful in the future," she said casually.

Reno was inspecting the corpse, and the weapon that had pinned it. Steam was gently billowing out from under the flat hide.

Ryan strutted over. "That was easy."

"It's not over yet," Reno said.

Chapter 20: Desperate

All went dead quiet, and then there was a low rumble. The ground beneath them began to tremble. Thin cracks spread out from where the stalactite protruded from the ground.

Seconds later the cracks were glowing red hot. Running was not an option; the cracks spread out like a spider web across the floor of the cavern, giving way to the molten rock below. The same from the shock of the fallen pillar.

"Great!" Tristan groaned. "We have slain the beast, but we'll die in a lake of fire!"

The floor began to crumble away. The carcass of the slain creature ignited, and thick fumes billowed off.

"So this is how it ends," Reno said softly, "It would seem we are destined to die by fire, young prince."

Michael's mind flashed to the fire in Jenoth, and Malumous's words. _Looks like you're going to die in a fire after all._ "No. I choose my own destiny, and it isn't time to die!" He grabbed Kaitala by the hand without her consent and cast magic upon the ceiling. A round slab of stone fell to the floor, breaking another large segment of the stone beneath their feet. Water spilled down through the opening.

"You fool!" Kaitala shouted. Her eyes flashed angrily.

"We have a way out now, don't judge my decisions!"

"We will drown!" she said frantically. "It isn't my time to die! My tasks are not complete!"

"Everybody gather around us, we will survive this, I swear it!" Michael said.

The water filled the cavern slowly. It was hot; unbearably so. Michael wondered if he was wrong—if they would boil alive down in this cave.

The water was up to their chests now and had cooled slightly, though it was still boiling in places.

"I hope everyone can swim!" Michael said as the water became too deep for them to touch bottom.

As the sea filled the cavern, it became treacherous. The cold water spilling down from the sea sank to the bottom as the heated water from the bottom rose, creating a powerful undertow. The group was forced to cling to the sharp cavern walls to avoid being sucked down and dashed against the red hot stone.

As the cavern filled more and more, the water reached the stalactites that hung from the ceiling. Using them as hand holds, Michael and the others worked their way to the hole where the water was pouring in. He scraped his arms and legs several times.

"We have to wait until the cavern is full before we can swim out!" Michael shouted above the rushing water.

The water inched up, and soon they had their faces pressed against the stone ceiling. They took in their last breath before the water covered their heads. The pressure was immense.

Michael pushed the others up through the hole before he went. Several of the creature's eggs were floating up through the hole, lighting a path to the surface.

Off in the distance, Michael saw a dim disk. It was the sun.

_We'll never make it!_ He thought as his lungs began to ache.

In desperation, he reached deep within himself. He cried out for something, anything, to save him and his friends.

Then everything went black, and he felt his body surge upwards.

Chapter 21: Bones to Ashes

Everything was blurry when Michael opened his eyes. His lungs ached, and his whole body was heavy as stone. He just laid there watching the stars.

The twinkling lights moved across the night sky. They danced and twirled before they sputtered out. It took Michael a moment to realize what was happening.

He forced himself upright and stared. Before him rose a vast mound of earth and stone rimmed with water. He rested on a beach opposite of where they had started, but the Sea of the Dead was gone.

The newly formed hill was spewing out fire, and molten rock poured down over the sides. Cinders and ashes were flowing over his head in a river of smoke.

_All of the death on this beach..._ Michael thought to himself, _It is being purged away with flame. Bones to ashes..._

He sat in a daze. _I did this. I changed the land...I destroyed a sea._

"Michael?" he heard a rough voice call, but could not shake his thoughts.

"Michael?" the voice called again. Still, the prince could not find it in himself to answer.

I almost died... I should have died. Who saved me?

He could remember a strong voice in his mind, speaking to him, but he could not remember the words; just a voice like a mighty river.

"Michael!" the voice called again, and then Michael found himself lifted off the ground by a giant.

"Reno found him!" the prince heard another voice call.

Michael suddenly found himself surrounded by familiar faces.

"Michael, are you hurt?" Kaitala asked with concern.

"No," Michael responded softly, though he could feel the blisters on his legs from wading in the boiling water. "What happened?"

"Kaitala got us to shore safely," Tristan said, "She gathered us in a bubble, and we floated to the shore. She thought you had already gotten to the surface; you can swim faster."

"Michael, you were under water for ten minutes then you shot out like an arrow, landing on this beach," Reno said. "Now, you tell _us_ what happened."

"Where is Sphergol?" Michael asked.

"We haven't seen her," Tristan said sympathetically.

"It was her; it had to be," the prince said, "I'm not strong enough to use magic on my own."

Kaitala stepped close to Michael and whispered in his ear, "You are stronger than you know Michael, much stronger. I need to speak with you alone."

She stepped back and motioned to a spot away from the group with a nod of her head, then walked away.

Michael dismissed himself and walked over to Kai.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It wasn't Sphergol who helped you," she said, "It was my master."

"What? You said you don't work for Malumous. Who else could be powerful enough to pull me out of the water like that?"

"I don't serve the king, you are right. But before I ever served any king I served...someone else; and I have always worked for that one."

"I don't understand," Michael said, "You are too young to have served my father through his reign, and someone else before him, even if you were born into the work."

"I am not like you, Michael. Time has no value to me."

"Time is important to everybody," Michael argued, "just like we only have a certain amount of time to live."

"Hmm," Kaitala said, and looked away, "we have strayed off topic. I must to talk to you because my master has a message."

"Why doesn't he tell me himself?"

"He has tried, but you are deaf to his words. Your ears cannot understand his tongue, but he has heard you.

"I must tell you, he is displeased with your abuse of my powers, but he understands your decision. Every wrong must be rectified, however. So as a consequence, he has ordered that I leave you now."

"But I need you!" Michael said. "You are the only way that I can use magic now."

"That is why I must go. As I said before, my magic is not like yours. It would be unwise for you to continue using it. You must find a way to use your abilities on your own."

"But what if Sphergol doesn't come back?"

"She will never come back, that is why you must find a way."

Michael lowered his eyes.

"Sphergol had one purpose in this world. She was conserved so that she could be a help to you until you needed no more help. Your powers are inside of you, not her."

"What if I can't? I'm a prince who became a slave to earn freedom! I grew up with everything I needed at my hand! Everything I wanted was mine that second! Now I have this thrust upon me. I can't do this, Kai. I never learned to do anything for myself. I have been a lucky fool up until now, nothing else. I'm no hero; I'm not a saviour."

Kaitala shifted and murmured something under her breath. Then she looked at Michael, "I am truly sorry that I cannot speak to you as a friend any longer. That is not my task. My task is now to retrieve Bastian and then leave this place."

"So that's it, then? You just walk away and forget about me? You just leave and look for your lost dog? What about being tasked to serve the throne?"

"When my master told me to watch after your family, he said that my task was completed when the sky was filled with ashes and the Sea of the Dead is no more. Magic has awakened in the land. Those sensitive to it will begin strengthening themselves. You must do the same," Kaitala pressed the bottle of the worm creature's blood into Michael's palm then turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the dark as bones turned to ashes.

Chapter 22: The Next Step

Michael slowly walked back to where the others had sat down to rest.

"What was that about?" Tristan asked.

"Nothing," Michael responded flatly.

"Where is Kai going?" Ryan asked sadly.

"I don't know; she's just not coming back. Neither is Sphergol."

Reno rubbed his neck. "We should make camp. It is late, and we are all tired."

"Not here," Michael said, "I want to get as far away from this cursed place as we can."

"I agree," Tristan added. "It would be too dangerous to stay here. Active fire hills are too unpredictable."

Michael said nothing. He simply grabbed his provisions and walked along the beach. His companions followed at a distance.

They came across small walking path near an abandoned camp site that was likely used by bandits. They were the only people who would be foolish enough to camp by the Sea of the Dead.

The fire pit was still warm; they must have left when they saw the fire hill rise from the sea.

"I don't expect any trouble from them," Ryan said, "They are probably running for their lives right now."

"What makes you so sure?" Tristan asked sceptically.

"Because this is Acosh territory, they are a superstitious nation. They believe that fire hills are a sign of anger from their god, Ignisiem. They believe anyone who witnesses an active fire hill will burn from the inside out if they don't purge themselves at the temple."

"How do you know so much about the people of Acosh?" Michael asked.

"Before I ran away, my parents did a lot of research into the culture of the sister nations, Acosh and Sethont. If our journey has taken us here, the road ahead will be difficult."

"Then we will tread with care," Reno said, "our next step may be dangerous, but good things lay waiting."

The group walked on to the main road and followed it north. They reached the peak of a high hill and looked out over the horizon.

Dawn's early light shone from the east, lighting a vast flat land beyond. The plants diminished gradually as the earth sloped down, until it was completely barren. Tiny cities speckled the border of a black sheet of fog dotted with mounds of white sand.

"What is that?" Tristian asked, pointing to the black plain.

"That, Tristan," Michael said, "is the next step."

END

Thanks so much for taking the time to read my book, _Sea of the Dead_. I appreciate the support on my first published original work. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment and write a review or suggest it to a friend.

Watch for the next title in The Slave Prince series, _The Black Sky_ , and like my page on Facebook for regular updates on my writing progress!

Thanks!

Matt

Acknowledgements

I want to send out a huge thank you to all of you who helped me along the way in creating this story.

To my sister, Kathy; you inspired me to write fan-fiction in my middle school years. You have been a great blessing in my life, and a true friend.

To my parents; you always supported me growing up, even if I didn't see it. I want to thank you for helping me with the crazy paperwork of getting this out to market.

To the authors whose stories fueled my imagination as a young person; you always had a way of drawing me in with your words, and I wanted so desperately to be a part of that writer's world.

To my editor, Rob; Your sharp eye and precise skill at pinpointing errors truly helped this work to shine.

And last but not least, God; you play a huge part in my life, and in turn, this story. Thank you for inspiring the spiritual themes woven between the lines of many of my novel ideas.

Authors Bio

MATTHEW HOLMES has won multiple acting awards in provincial theater competitions. A life-long reader of fantasy novels, when a child he and his friends often acted out full fantasy stories, as they imagined climbing high mountains and slaying mysterious monsters with swords and magic. These days, Holmes works at a candy factory making peppermints. He lives in a rural area of New Brunswick, Canada. This is his first novel.
