 
Books One to Four of the Sons of Odin

Angel-Magic Edition

L. A. Hammer

Copyright 2016 L.A. Hammer.

Published by L.A. Hammer at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition Licence Notes

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover artwork, maps and interior illustrations by Minh Nguyen – flare3103

Minh Nguyen's artworks can be found by searching L. A. Hammer at Imagekind.com

Praise for Books One to Four of the Sons of Odin:

Book One – Kirkus

In the opening volume of a complex new fantasy series, Hammer offers readers lavish battles, dizzying amounts of gore, and a system of magical patrons called Battle Angels that fans of the Final Fantasy video games should enjoy. – Kirkus Reviews

The battles, during which the Sons of Odin—and Jean, the Daughter of Thor—summon superpowered guardians, are splatterfests (demons are blasted "into dust and smoke, torn flesh and large spurts of dark blood"). – Kirkus Reviews

A marathon of fantasy gore and slow-building characterizations in a land confronting demons. – Kirkus Reviews

Book Two - BlueInk

Hammer's vivid visual imagery ... makes the character's journeys exhilarating and the battle scenes intense. – BlueInk Reviews

_Druantia's Curse_ is entertaining and full of surprises—from wormholes to vampires—but it requires dedication to track all of the subplots. Casual readers of fantasy may be frustrated by the wealth of detail, but diehard fans will appreciate the Robert Jordan-esque layering of characters, relationships and lands that brings Kismeria to life. – BlueInk Reviews

Book Two - Kirkus

In this second installment of Hammer's ( _Odin's Awakening_ , 2014) epic fantasy series, the complexities of magical warfare and romantic loyalties continue. Taking center stage once again, however, are the action sequences. They're akin to panoramic oil paintings of orgiastic chaos, as when "Hawks, Crows and Pixies broke away from the Shadow Men to punch through vampire chests in bright flares....Skulls exploded on impact, limbs falling as torn debris." – Kirkus Reviews

The use of time-travel and other twists—like the fallout from a romantic triangle among Adem, Jean, and Princess Isabella—deftly prepares fans for a rousing sequel. – Kirkus Reviews

This immersive, colorful, and action-oriented fantasy series smoothly maintains its rapid pace. – Kirkus Reviews

Book Three - Kirkus

In his third installment of the series, Hammer continues to tap a vein of phantasmagoric mayhem that should mesmerize video gamers and fans of the Lord of the Rings alike. Nearly every page displays eye-popping battle visuals: "Lightning filled the sky, a rainbow of coloured bolts, a thousand falling every second to turn the grey haze into a bright neon flare." – Kirkus Reviews

The underlying themes of humanity's imperfection and the individual's struggle toward a truer self permeate this narrative, which sets the heroes in a new direction. – Kirkus Reviews

Provides an action-packed turning point in the series and sets the stage for fresh adventures. – Kirkus Reviews

Book Four – Kirkus

Opening this fourth installment on Earth, Hammer (Arawn's Carnage, 2015, etc.) teases a different kind of narrative. It's not long, however, before his love for mystical carnage reasserts itself. In the hospital, Adem encounters a shadowy figure whose voice was "devastating to behold" and "made him feel that his skin and flesh were being peeled off by the dark energies." This novel follows a beat similar to the prior three, in which armies are assembled, personal demons lay exposed—like Adem dwelling on his affair with Isabelle—and vast battles engulf the land. Plot quirks include the Time Strider Elarja Rinhannen's trip into the past, and the widespread use of the tainted Dark Trail magic. – Kirkus Reviews

Dedicated fans should rejoice. – Kirkus Reviews

Though this tale begins with a unique rhythm, the author's fantasy tropes draw it back into the series' fold. – Kirkus Reviews

Contents

BOOK ONE

Prologue

Chapter 1—Shared Visions and Dreams

Chapter 2—Jean Fairsythe

Chapter 3—The Immortals

Chapter 4—The Travelling Gates

Chapter 5—The Nordics

Chapter 6—The Heroes of Will

Chapter 7—The Daughter of Thor

Chapter 8—The Green Men

Chapter 9—The Bellatanus Festival

Chapter 10—The Challenge

Chapter 11—The Saviours Reborn

Chapter 12—The High-Servants

Chapter 13—The Honour Code

Chapter 14—The Holy Cross

Chapter 15—In the Word

Chapter 16—Rivers of Sorrow

Chapter 17—A Spear of Fire

Chapter 18—A Dark Princess

Chapter 19—To Avoid Destruction

Chapter 20—A Place of Refuge

BOOK TWO

Prologue —To Stage a Rescue

Chapter 1—Out of Darkness

Chapter 2—Into the Light

Chapter 3—The Death of Two Kings

Chapter 4—To Find the Source

Chapter 5—Hayley's Curse

Chapter 6—To Forge Leadership

Chapter 7—The Immortal Prince

Chapter 8—To Hunt a Vampire King

Chapter 9—To Find a Cure

Chapter 10—Watcher in the Dark

Chapter 11—Crossing the Ravine

Chapter 12—The Ruhalden King

Chapter 13—The Vampire Coven

Chapter 14—To Gain a Hero

Chapter 15—To Escape Defeat

Chapter 16—Odin Quest

Chapter 17—Shadow Swarm

Chapter 18—Dark Titans

Chapter 19—The Dragon Rises

Chapter 20—Falling Back

Chapter 21—To Stand and Fight

Chapter 22—Hero Chain

Chapter 23—The Angel of Death

Chapter 24—To Save a Hero

Epilogue

BOOK THREE

Prologue —Calliach

Chapter 1—Handling Isabelle

Chapter 2—Taming the Dragon

Chapter 3—To Earn a Following

Chapter 4—The Dragon's Need

Chapter 5—The Gambit of War

Chapter 6—A Demonic Heart

Chapter 7—Shienden

Chapter 8—Dragon Sword

Chapter 9—Negotiating with Tarz

Chapter 10—The Path Alone

Chapter 11—Evidence of Evil

Chapter 12—The Bait is Set

Chapter 13—The Shadow's Grip

Chapter 14—An Ancient Evil

Chapter 15—The Honds

Chapter 16—Designs of the Shadow

Chapter 17—Battle Angels

Chapter 18—The Martyr Coven

Chapter 19—Return of the Jinn-Lord

Chapter 20—Heroes Old and New

Chapter 21—Elemental Lore

Epilogue

BOOK FOUR

Prologue – A Surprise Visitor

Chapter 1 – A raging Storm

Chapter 2 – Forsaken Warriors

Chapter 3 – Goblin City

Chapter 4 – Jean's Decree

Chapter 5 – A Dark Queen

Chapter 6 – Forsaken Ruler

Chapter 7 – Souljhin Raid

Chapter 8 – Time to Decide

Chapter 9 – Rayne Dragon-Sword

Chapter 10 – Sword of Valour

Chapter 11 – Evil Angel

Chapter 12 – Fallen Kings

Chapter 13 – Storm of Shadows

Chapter 14 – Love of a Vampire

Chapter 15 – A Precious Relic

Chapter 16 – Banners of Ancient Kings

Chapter 17 – Eternal Darkness

Chapter 18 – The Will of Heroes

Chapter 19 – A Force of Shadows

Chapter 20 – Betrayal

Epilogue – Demonfist

Book Five – Preview

Prologue – A Dutiful Son

Chapter 1 – Heroes and Children

Glossary

To my Father, for always reading my stories.

Book Two is for all my friends, who have ever shared the dream.

I dedicate Book Three to my good friend, Nathan.

He showed me that faith can be a virtue to be respected.

Book Four is for my dear friend, Alex,

For always being there for me.

Book One of the Sons of Odin

Angel-Magic Edition

L. A. Hammer

Prologue

Lady Gwyndel, climbed the dark stone, at the foot of the tower that loomed above her. Her Aldebrand, Lord Farrigan, led the climb. Their party had remained at the mountain pass, between the Free Lands and the barren wastelands. Home to the Resting Point of the Jinn-Lord.

The tower was only several hours ride from the Green Border, however. A long distance from the dreaded mountain, where the Jinn-Lord resided: building his strength, drawing from the Elemental Magic of the Great Angels, to fuel his preparation for the day of the Return.

Gwyndel was not without hope however, as the day of the First Arrival was nearing—when the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor would come to the rescue of Kismeria—according to words spoken by the Immortal Kings to both her and Farrigan. The two kings had chosen the Brenda and Aldebrand for a special mission. To gain intelligence from the enemy at their lair. Here in the Eastlands at the Tower of Orgroth Koeher.

Orgroth Koeher was obsidian rising as a shaft of defiance against the light of the moon. It shone occasionally amidst dark thunderclouds, crimson lightning pulsing and flaring in sideward bursts throughout the darkness. Bolts blasted the earth below, where hot magma flowed through deep caverns and cracked soil.

Despite the foul heat of these lands during daylight hours, the nights were near to freezing temperatures. Cooling much of the lava that flowed from a number-of volcanoes in this region, including Kerak'Otozi. That was the main source, however many of the burning rivers still flowed bright and hot.

Gwyndel's hands were scraped and cut during the climb, though the presence of her Battle Angel brought a fast healing to her flesh. Despite being immortal blood, her bones were weary, and her muscles ached during the climb. It took over two hours of climbing to reach the foot of the tower.

She wished for nothing more than to be home in a warm blanket, listening to the wind through the trees of her nest. High in the branches of the Great Trees of the Kingarin Forest. Amongst the Silver Twins, the Crimson Leaf, Iron Oaks, Golden Towers, Faun-Hoof Leaf, Starlight Elms, Moon-Branch and other enchanted trees of the forest. They glowed with the ancient light of the Great Angels, who created the first seeds of their kind during the Dawn of Ages.

It was a burden to be enlisted in the Wood Kin Clans at times like these. She was forced to forsake her own safety, and risk life and limb, to gather intelligence for the Immortal Kings. She tsked to herself in irritation when she thought over the countless missions, just like this one, she had taken part in. During her hundred and thirty-four years as a full grown, after taking the oaths before the Dremelden King and Queen. Her fealty was sworn to her people, but also to the realm.

The climb had been steep and deadly. The winds howled. Thunder roared. But the immortal blood of the ancients flowed through the veins of Gwyndel and Farrigan, and they were both swift and sure. They clung to crevices and craggy paths, to heave their bodies to higher perches. Their keen eyes and ears ever alert for the presence of any threat. Some Shadowspawn spy; demon or perhaps even the Hex-Keepers.

Gwyndel was fair of hair with large emerald eyes, of the Dremelden Wood Kin Clans, as was Lord Farrigan—a tall handsome figure, he often stared at her in ways that were unnerving. But it also often brought emotions of excitement, though he had never spoken the words that declared such feelings for her in return—and they both wore the torin'sidhe of greys, greens and browns on their coats and boots. Matching cuirass and breastplates, under cloaks of the Aldebrand, that blended with the night and the dark stone itself.

Each was equipped with a bow and blade, though the enemy they sought out would destroy them with little effort. If not for the Battle Angel, Druantia—Wife to the Green Man, Queen of Forests and Mother of the Children of the Woods—that resided in her emerald bow as Resting Point. For Druantia would give these High-Servants, and their second in command, a swift hiding, if it became necessary.

They reached the highest window of the tower—their immortal sight could see even in the shadows that it was unguarded—by each one of them being lifted, over one hundred feet up, through the air. Carried by the wings of Druantia. After the Battle Angel was summoned—appearing as a slender young-looking woman, hair and eyes of burning shadows. Flesh and rune marked dress glowing aqua, emerald and crimson—wings of jade light fanned from her shoulders. She then lifted Farrigan, placing him sitting on the windowsill, high upon the tower's flat facing side. Then returned to scoop up Gwyndel and carry her to the same place. They slipped into the darkness within—as Druantia returned to the enchanted bow—Moving with stealth up the winding stairway.

They had not wasted Druantia's strength at the beginning of the climb. The Angel's precious stores of demon souls would have been depleted otherwise. The presence of a Battle Angel, released from their Resting Point, was also a risk of being detected by these high ranking Darksouled. Even with Druantia to beat the enemy into submission, Gwyndel and Farrigan would have to flee. Even then, it was not a guarantee that they would survive.

During their ascension, Farrigan waved a fist to halt her. He drew his blade and moved on ahead. Cloak blending with the stone walls and shadows. The glowing sword concealed beneath the folds.

A fierce grunt was heard as the light of the blade flared in the distance—the sound of a demon dying in shock—as a dark ram's skull thudded. It fell down the staircase in plain sight, lit by the pale blue of Farrigan's blade. Dark blood flowed from the fat corpse, that lay sprawled upon the steps, further ahead. Magic of the blade melting away its shadow flesh, as cracks of blue spread like tiny crackling lightning bolts. Even disintegrating the network of bones. Farrigan signaling her to follow.

That had been a Jacoulra guard. A foul demon of dark magic, though fortunately it had been alone. The pair continued their mission, to seek out the information required by the Immortal Kings. 'What plotting and scheming do our enemies have in store, in preparation for the First Arrival?'

It was for an answer to that very question; that Gwyndel and Farrigan were marching into the Lion's den. She felt part fool for her willingness to follow orders without question. Especially when it concerned her own neck. Yet the fate of the world hung in the balance. According to ancient prophecies, only the Sons and Daughter could ever hope to save them.

There is a rooftop entrance where you will be able to overlook the Meeting Hall, Druantia explained to Gwyndel's mind. I sense a large gathering, perhaps even all the Hex-Warlords and most of the Hex-Keepers are present.

Gwyndel signalled this information to Farrigan with sign language. Farrigan creeping like a panther on the hunt.

It must mean they have something very important to discuss, Gwyndel replied to Druantia. Why else would they all be gathered in one place?

That is plain truth, Gwyndel. The Hex-Warlords generally do not like to work together, let alone communicate with their second in command. The rooftop entrance is a small trapdoor, located in the ceiling outside the entrance to the Meeting Hall. I have disabled its locks and magic wards. I will try to disguise the trapdoor, after you enter, to make it appear that it has not been tampered with. You must be quiet as a mouse, Lady Gwyndel. Your footfalls must not make a sound. Your breathing must be calm as still waters.

It was all well and good for her Battle Angel to give such instructions, but the trembling that was taking over Gwyndel, was near impossible to control.

***

Calliestra, known by her enemies as Shadow-Heart, stood in the meeting hall of the highest chamber of Orgroth Koeher. Surrounded by the assembled Generals of the Shadow.

Nodomi kept her distance from Calliestra. The snooty nosed beauty running a delicate hand across her golden locks, that fell past her shoulders. A sure sign of her discomfort at being so close to so many of the higher-ranking Generals, known as the Hex-Warlords by Darksouled. But their enemies referred to them as Dark Angels, or the High-Servants. They were a unit of twelve formed only of males, all immortal blood. Men who had betrayed the All-Father, to serve Jinn-Fendinn. In hope of an immortality that would allow them to escape even Death himself. Orion and Tobin were perhaps the only warriors left in Kismeria who stood any such chance of defeating even one of them. Those two were the greatest threat.

Tairark Vampire-King seemed the most confident from his stance. Radiance of evil permeated from his cloak, that seemed to merge with the shadows. Shockingly, all twelve of the Hex-Warlords had removed their rune marked masks, to reveal skin that had the texture and colour of ashes and rot. Each one glaring about the chamber with eyes that burned like magma. Teron, and the Magic of Jinn-Fendinn, flowed in their veins. Those caverns of golden flames were unnerving when being caught by their gaze, but Calliestra would not let her fear show.

The other Hex-Warlords hovered inches above the floor. The room was a blending of space and time, as well as the chamber itself. A physical location was required, but the room itself was an illusion of Jinn-Magic. Hiding them from the eyes and ears of spies. Every one of them was radiating that ominous force of the Jinn. To dominate over the Hex-Keepers. The lower ranking twelve generals of which Calliestra was a member, though it irked her painfully to admit even to herself.

There was a level of unity between the abilities gifted to both the Hex-Warlords and Hex-Keepers via the Jinn, though that ability to radiate an evil force was applicable only to High-Servants, Souljhin and lesser demons. At least to any degree of creating fear in your enemies. This was also a point of great displeasure for her.

The other Hex-Keepers were all showing signs of feeling oppressed in the presence of the entire host of Hex-Warlords. They sat or paced about the room, waiting for the meeting to commence. Why Tairark had not already started was perplexing. It made her begin to worry that perhaps another had been given an even higher station of command.

She glanced across at Fearen, dark haired with large blue eyes, that so often shifted from a clear focus, to that of a madwoman. She was mad before she betrayed Odin, and Fendinn had never cleansed that illness entirely. For which reason Calliestra had always treated her as the closest ally, though always believing she was the last of their kind that should be trusted or given command. 'Why is it always such a long wait?' The fool woman asked with a focused gaze, before she began picking at her face with dark fingernails—a habit that had left her grossly scarred. She began to whine with that look of madness returning.

'I certainly have better things to be doing than standing around with my arms crossed,' Nodomi chimed in. She brushed a hand over her locks once again. Calliestra almost bit her tongue to avoid blurting out that the slut was probably referring to the three male slaves she had waiting back in her bedchamber. In a bed that was large enough to fit a half dozen more. Nodomi's use of mind control was a deplorable past time, though the woman had an insatiable appetite for passion—even if it was with men so stoned by Angel-Magic they probably wouldn't know if they were giving it to a goat.

She held her tongue, more for the fact that it would reveal to Nodomi, that Calliestra knew such things about her. Calliestra had worked long and hard for centuries to retrace the Old Lore of the ancients and the Old Ways Magic. To discover precious knowledge of Angel-Magic and how to use these abilities to both spy upon and manipulate her peers. This would spark intrigue in every other figure gathered, that Calliestra knew such intimate secrets about another of their kind—much more so than for the fact that it may embarrass the poor girl.

Nodomi cringed. Her tender pale bosom—exposed by the low-cut neckline of her golden lace gown—rose and fell in anxious breaths. Perhaps more so for the waiting, than her desperation to return to her shameless acts of debauchery.

Calliestra returned her focus to the hall, lit by a translucent glow of crimson and amber. Shadows cast off each figure flickered and morphed into shapes suggestive of Nymloc and Jacoulra. It was a working of the Shadow, rather than some metaphorical reflection of the nature of the souls of each man and woman. The walls of the chamber were glossy black panels, that shone like silk shadows. Lined with hard crimson timbers against the obsidian.

Apparitions of pale skulls danced across the surface of the shadowy panels. Tortured souls of Servants of the Shadow, who had not received the blessing of reincarnation. It was either for failure, or simply because Jinn-Fendinn saw no greater use for them. Darksouled served their purposes in the name of evil, in the hope of immortality, but not all were so fortunate. Calliestra often wondered if the High-Jinn chose such surrounds as a warning against failure, of those he placed highest in command. She resisted the urge to shiver, again hiding her growing discomfort. Time seemed to slide into puddles at her feet.

Suddenly, Tairark casually threw a palm-sized golden disc, that bounced on the floor with a metallic clank, rolling into the shadows. She was shocked to realise that it was in fact a Jhin-Tap.

Her fears up until that moment, could not have matched when a flare of crimson and golden fires blossomed in that shadowed corner of the chamber. To reveal the shadow cloaked form of a Souljhin standing taller than seven feet. An impossible tower of pure sin, bleeding its corruptive forces through the air. Its form slid towards Tairark, the Vampire-King giving way for the creature as it glanced about the room. Large black eyes like burning seeds of pure malevolence, on a puckered pasty white face. Revealed beneath the heavy drooping cowl.

'What madness is this?' Another of the Hex-Keepers asked, as if scandalized by the presence of one of the Swordsmen of the Shadow, arriving without summons. But again, Calliestra held her tongue, as did the rest of the gathering. They all knew well enough, not to question any man that held sway over Tairark. It was Baidel who had asked the question. Fear and doubt of his own words soon became clear. He gave a slight tilt of his head, a cautious gaze directed at the Souljhin.

When the creature spoke, it seemed a shrill scream tore the air with every hissed phrase. Its deep crushing tone reminded her of bones being crushed under foot, blood flowing through endless chasms, rotting corpses and the Flames of Hell.

'The High-Jinn has chosen me as High-Seat,' those words brought immediate shock and revulsion from all, as they stood glaring in disbelief. It was abhorrent for any of them to be forced to even consider accepting such a decision. A raging torrent of wickedness permeated Calliestra's soul, as the Souljhin released the full force of his might against them. Each man who might think to oppose this being, suddenly relented like tame wolves, receiving a slap on the nose by their new master.

'You will soon learn that I will not accept insolence any more than failure from my subjects.' Calliestra began to fear she may faint in pure shock of the level of corruption that battered against her senses. This Souljhin was a raging volcano of pure sin. 'I am named Baegelmeer. You will address me as so. I demand absolute respect and subservience.

'As you all know, the High-Jinn is plotting to ambush the Sons and Daughter on the day of the First Arrival.' Baegelmeer pointed a dark nailed finger at Baidel and Torkhan as he said, 'You will receive further orders on when and where we shall strike. The Jinn-Lord will gain new control over the elements, soon, after the Sons have delivered the promised curse to the Angel-Magic of teron. Although the High-Jinn and his servants have never discovered the exact location of the Arrival, we know the hour is nigh. We must be vigilant in our preparations to annihilate them, or to drive them into submission. Ultimately, we must form their alliance with the High-Jinn, whether as living men, or cursed wraiths.'

Baegelmeer then pointed at Calliestra as he spoke, 'You, Shadow-Heart, will have a short introduction with one of the Sons, this very night. You shall visit him in his dreams, travelling to the Earth realm, in spirit. Tell him of his fate to serve the Shadow, in life or death.'

'How will I achieve this?' Calliestra asked with tremendous fear crushing her chest.

'Do you take me for a fool?' The Souljhin asked. 'You have the ability to do so. You shall do exactly as I command.' The creature then turned to move back to the shadowed corner from which it had emerged, and as Baegelmeer began to vanish in substance, Calliestra called to him, asking, 'What else does the High-Jinn command of us?'

The voice of Baegelmeer carried in the air even after his form had vanished, 'Jinn-Fendinn has endless plans, for all of you. Any that disappoint me, shall suffer due punishments from the High-Jinn directly.'

Moments later Calliestra felt all eyes upon her, before Nodomi asked, 'What did he mean by that? Saying you have the ability to enter dreams in the Earth Realm? What other secrets have you kept from us all this time?'

'It was a recent discovery,' Calliestra lied quickly, to avoid further suspicion. She hoped she succeeded. 'I have never tested the theory, though I will try, of course. I will do as Baegelmeer commands me. I would like some time alone to attempt it however.'

'I would very much like to see you make the attempt,' Nodomi almost cried.

'Silence!' roared Tairark. 'I will remain here to monitor Shadow-Heart while she works the spell, the rest of you can leave.'

'Do we still take orders from you?' Baidel asked.

'I am still second in command,' Tairark replied, expelling a degree of corruption with enough force to make his point. 'Leave, all of you, now. That is my command.'

***

Calliestra waited until the gathering had departed, before creating a spell to enter the dreams of the Son of Odin. Tairark stood watching with keen interest. His eyes detected even the female spellcasting using a combination of terael and Jinn-Magic. He would instruct her to provide further instructions on how to use this ability, to track and appear before any of the three Sons of Odin, when she returned. For now, he waited silently, until her form began to shimmer and burn into a translucent quality. Her figure was surrounded by light and shadows that coursed through the air in a tunnel like a school of brightly coloured fish, until she faded from view entirely. Golden light flared before she vanished via Terael-Magic that appeared similar-to creating Portal-Spells.

Entering dreams was a part of the Old Ways Magic. It was still known by all-of the Hex-Warlords and Hex-Keepers, and it was known by many Alit'aren and Ael Tarael throughout the Ages. However, none except the Great Angels had ever been known to have the ability to travel to and from the alternate dimension known as Earth. This ability to even enter the dreams of someone from that realm was a precious gem. One that Calliestra had obviously kept secret for her own purposes.

The meeting had not been a complete shock, however. He had been well informed that Baegelmeer was the Jinn-Lord's High-Seat, well before the time he arrived here. He had kept the others waiting—rather than admit to such damned humiliation openly—until throwing down the Jhin-Tap, from which the Souljhin appeared to make his claim.

There was nothing more to be done about it. Even Tairark knew he did not have the ability to destroy the creature. Baegelmeer was given sources of the High Jinn's Jinn-Magic that surpassed any other. Even with an alliance of his Brothers, defeating such an opponent would take more than just good luck.

***

Gwyndel was near to sweating in fear of the presence of the last High-Servant in the Meeting Chamber, the room viewable via the abilities gifted to her by Druantia. She saw the meeting take place through a warp in space. It allowed her to see straight through the roof of the Tower, through wrappings of Air-and-Fire-Magic that would keep the meeting from the prying eyes of lesser spies in the same location.

Farrigan remained silent at her side, until he gave the signal that it was time to attempt a retreat. They both began to shift across the stone paved ceiling of the Chamber with the skill of Elven Aldebrands. The gift attributed from earth and sky gave them heightened senses, but also expert abilities at Wood Lore. Remaining silent when hunting or spying.

They were exiting the trapdoor and making their way down the ladder swiftly, but cautiously to avoid sound, when Gwyndel saw a blade ever so close to being pressed against her throat. A beam of hot corrosion glowing crimson below her vision told her it was the blade of a Souljhin or High-Servant. The level of evil force that was being generated suggested it was the latter. If the blade gave her the slightest cut, she would die a horrible death. Druantia would not be able to cure the dark magic curse that would infect her flesh and blood. The fact that the blade had not cut her yet, meant the assassin wanted answers from her first.

She breathed the name of her Battle Angel, 'Druantia!' A moment later, an emerald light was added to the crimson bar held close to her throat. Druantia's hand grasped the blade hilt to carefully force the weapon forwards, and then drag it away from Gwyndel's throat. Obviously while holding the High-Servant in a powerful grip with her other hand.

Gwyndel touched ground a moment later, to look back and see Tairark struggling against Druantia's grasp, before the Battle Angel hurled the High-Servant flying back through the door of the Meeting Chamber—that remained closed—as Tairark's form simply melted through the solid stone to vanish from sight. The door to the Meeting Chamber burst open, and there again stood Tairark Vampire-King. Mask of gold worked with dark runes—a human skull mask with long blood-soaked canines—golden eyes glaring as his evil force radiated in the air like a beacon of lost hope.

Druantia appeared before him, in an emerald gown—holding up a shield of green light to deflect a blast of Elemental Magic hurled by Tairark—the two forces colliding in a flare of brilliance. Farrigan also leapt to the solid stone flooring. Drawing his blade as they raced down the staircase with the fleet footed swiftness only attributed to Aelfin.

They were nearing the highest window when Druantia appeared again at Gwyndel's side. Farrigan turned to face a Jacoulra lurching up the stairway—thick bulging body like black tar reflecting the light of the blue blade. Seed shaped eyes glowing bright amber—wielding a scimitar that glowed like dark blood. A spattering of hot magma flying towards the Aldebrand as both he and Druantia formed Shield-Magic to deflect the demon's Fire-Magic.

Druantia appeared a moment later behind the demon. Driving a spear of emerald light through the back of its torso. The shaft burning like cold fusion as it protruded from the front of its chest. Farrigan stepped in to lop off the demon's ram shaped skull. The body collapsing as Gwyndel and Farrigan leapt over the fallen beast.

Farrigan turned to Druantia to say, 'Catch her!' then he pushed Gwyndel straight out the window! She was hurtling to her death before being swept up on Angel's wings and carried over the dark landscape. Landing next to her horse as Druantia said, 'I will rescue Farrigan, you must ride and not look back.'

'I will wait for him,' replied Gwyndel.

Her Battle Angel groaned in frustration, 'Very well, but be ready to ride when I return.'

***

Farrigan switched to his Lukrorian Bow. He unleashed three powerful arrows of burning emerald. Each hit a target with adequate force. Blasting three charging Nymloc in the skulls; tumbling back down the staircase in pillars of flame.

He had not focused enough Teron-Magic to flow into each arrow before unleashing. He had not had the necessary time. So, he drew again, this time pouring a greater source of Angel-Magic into a single shaft of light; aimed at the three burning demons. The impact was a blast of magic that caused the stone walls to shudder. The Nymloc screamed while being blasted into burning pieces.

A Souljhin was next to appear. Sliding up the staircase in a cloak of darkness, wielding a wicked crimson blade burning with inner shadows. He switched to the blade again, and he began a slow retreat-back up the staircase, knowing that Tairark was waiting up there. But he was not skilled enough to best even one of the Swordsmen of the Shadow. Souljhin were infamous for their skill with the blade. Even though Farrigan was an Agnar, he knew his training lacked what was required to take on this demon on his own.

His one hope lay in the chance that Druantia would return to protect him. So, he delayed the Souljhin's approach by using his left hand to send blasts of blue energy flying at its skull and chest. Each sphere of light striking the creature to slightly irritate it and send it off balance. Farrigan was not particularly strong in Angel-Magic. He was no Alit'aren, although he was considered strong for an Aldebrand, and the gift gave him a slight advantage. Angel-Magic was less draining for him than it would be for most Alit'aren, even immortals. The gift provided extra stores of endurance and stamina, spiking even more when he should be close to exhaustion. For now, he used all he could muster to distract the Souljhin before he was forced into close combat.

The creature was closing the gap between them; each sliding step that it gained forced greater fear into Farrigan's chest. His Aldebrand senses searched the staircase above to try to detect whether more Souljhin were waiting there. His blood froze when he realised it was Tairark making a swift descent. Farrigan roared as he leapt at the Souljhin with his blade raised for a strike.

A blast of energies filled his vision when he was inches from clashing blades with the Souljhin—that had raised its sword to easily deflect that attack—as Druantia appeared between them in an emerald haze. The light pushed Farrigan backwards, but he managed to land on his feet in a defensive stance. The Battle Angel placed both hands around the Souljhin's hooded skull. Its crimson blade swiped uselessly through Druantia's form. Electric energies burst from her fingertips. Emerald flames surrounded the dark cloaked figure like a small bonfire. Its skull exploded in a dark spray.

Druantia turned to him to shout, 'Get to the window and jump!'

Farrigan did as he was commanded, fleeing just as Tairark began to float into view at the top of the staircase. He looked back once at a sound like the fabric of space being torn. Druantia and the High-Servant facing off in a cataclysm of sparkling emerald and crimson energies. The two bolts entwined between them, making the walls reverberate with Angel-Magic and Jinn-Magic. He leapt from the window just as a massive boom filled the Tower. He watched the dark cliff face surging towards him as he hurtled to his death.

Better catch me, pretty Lady.

***

Tairark hovered outside the Tower walls. Recovering from that near fatal blast of energies unleashed by the Queen of Forests. His vision was still blurry, but he still made out the winged Angel carrying the young Wood Kin male off into the distance.

He was fuming now, but he would not follow. Instead he summoned the Demonwolf pack that were patrolling nearby. His mind connected with the pack leader to set them on the hunt. He grinned as he heard their deathly howls. His immortal vision made out several of the enormous dark bodies lumbering after their prey.

He would prefer-to have his questions answered by the two spying elves, but Demonwolves did not take prisoners. They would devour their prey in a few savage gulps. At least that way; the spies would not deliver their intelligence to their commanders. The Wolves were the last remaining pack in Kismeria. If they were somehow defeated, he would pay a hefty price under the wrath of the High-Jinn. But that was unlikely. However, he was rather impressed at the skill of these two Wood Kin to have evaded the pack on their ascent of the Tower. Demonwolves were adept at detecting sound and scent.

No matter, he thought, the hounds will have their trail by now; there will be no chance of escape.

***

Gwyndel heard the howls of the Demonwolf pack before Druantia returned, to set Farrigan down beside his mount. When both were in their saddles, Druantia returned to Gwyndel's bow. Farrigan drew his short dagger to cut a slice from his palm that dripped fresh blood onto the dark soil. 'They will follow my trail,' he said, while roughly bandaging the wound with a torn strip of his shirt cut from beneath his coat sleeve. 'You must get to the Nordic King and report what you have discovered.' The man spoke without fear.

Gwyndel did not waste time arguing. She set off at a gallop. Riding in a blur of darkness and red cracked soil, her white altherin mare was swift even for immortal blood. But she would not escape unless she reached the Green Border and met with reinforcements.

Druantia would not be able to take down the entire pack, and her Battle Angel cautioned Gwyndel not to summon her again until a moment of great urgency. Her ki'mera was nearly spent in those flights from the Tower.

The last howls of the Wolves were headed southwest, so she believed she still had a chance to survive, despite how low her beloved Farrigan's chances now seemed. His bravery brought tears to her eyes, and the thought of now losing him seared her core.

She changed course at Druantia's instruction, hoping now on making it to a Portal that stood here in the Eastlands. It was made long ago when that region was still defended by immortals against the demon plagues. Stone ruins marked the location. If she could reach the Travelling Gate and get through it in time, it should take her directly to Nordhel.

Her companions would know to flee when they heard the Demonwolves. She would only endanger them further by making her way towards them.

She was approaching the Portal that was still some miles ahead when the chilling howl of a giant wolf filled the air, not far off to the north-east. A second howl was then heard chasing up the rear, this one much closer. She realised that not all-of the pack had followed Farrigan, booting her heels to drive Paquaila into a faster gallop.

The pair of Wolves then began to herd her in a different direction. She moved now south-west without a clear notion of where she was headed. She pulled hard on the reins to bring the mare to a sliding halt. Paquaila stood on her hind legs screaming. They were only inches from the edge of a dark cliff.

The Wolves were seen now to the east. Charging on all fours, the beasts stood over twelve feet tall. Hides like thick tar with flares of magma dancing across their skin. Their maws dripping saliva from fangs like steel. Eyes glowing hot crimson.

Gwyndel summoned her Battle Angel. As she cried her name, Druantia appeared in a flare of emerald. The Angel shouted the name of the Lightning-Lord, 'Odin!'

A bolt of tangled blue clutched Druantia to drag her up into the clouds. Gwyndel looked there to see her Battle Angel grow as lightning surged around her form. Beside her appeared Odin Lightning-Lord. A part of his Great Spirit roused from deep slumber by the call of one of the female Great Angels of the Second Born. Beard of white flame and eyes of light, a Nordic face with a crown of glowing gold. Armour of burning golden and crimson plates on a chest as wide as an elephant! Odin assisted Druantia to draw back her heavy bow, that gleamed like a jade crescent moon. An arrow of brilliant emerald glowed like a burning star. The shaft of light becoming fused with the Odin Spear before it was unleashed.

Gwyndel spun to see the shaft split to become two giant arrows that thudded down into the skulls of the charging Wolves. Splicing with their skulls to drive them down into the earth, only a few feet on either side from Gwyndel and her horse. Jaws fused shut as sniffing snouts and gnashing teeth missed horse and rider by only inches. The beasts slid through the stony soil as electric emerald and aqua bolts shuddered around their forms. One of them collapsed. Melting into a dark bloody mass—Paquaila bucking in panic as the ooze flowed around her hooves. The other tumbled straight over the cliff face. Howling as it fell, to land with a heavy thud!

***

Elarja RinHannen smashed his fists against the walls of his golden prison, sending flares and vibrations up through the walls of darkness. His immortal knuckles were stronger than diamond, though they had never made a dent in these walls fortified by the magic of the Leaf Aldebrands. Those were the strange little beings that had locked him away here, and he hated them for it.

I'll melt their bones in acid if I ever get the chance again! 'Every last one of you will pay! Do you hear me? I will have my revenge!'

He slumped back against the coolness of the wall as his rage subsided. Being imprisoned in darkness was hell after the first hour, but he had been here in this place for more than a thousand lifetimes of Men. It's suffocating me. I must get out. 'Let me out of this damn hole you bastard little fools!' His voice bounced off the walls and rang in his own ears like the roar of a wild beast. His was the blood of the ancient immortals. Born the son of the First Nordic King, Rodin Cloud-Walker. He was known as the Second Born amongst the immortals of his Age. 'You don't know what you have done. Let me out! Let me out! God damn it let me out of this forsaken hole!'

A type of madness was taking over. Soon he would be lost completely, and the fate of the world would rest in the hands of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. If I don't escape, I will never be there to guide them. They could not know how desperately they will need my aid.

He did not bother to wield any light in the cramped chamber. He sat clenching his jaw. The darkness had been a horror to him at first, and he had wielded a flame for every waking moment, sometimes even leaving a ball of flame alight while he slept. That was to avoid waking in the darkness that for millennia had made this place seem like a tomb. These days the darkness was like a cold blanket. He drank it in, and it kept him hidden from himself. Only his waning sanity kept him afloat in those shadows as his mind drifted in and out of consciousness. 'I will never get out of here.'

A part of him knew that couldn't be plain truth. A part of him still believed in miracles, and a second chance. The Kjia'hyenti had punished him for toying with the timelines. Ever since Elarja used his expert skill in magic crafting to create the Time Stones, the Leaf Aldebrands were ever envious and filled with spite. They say it is a dangerous thing, to play with time. 'But they are jealous leeches! Trolls, hobs and vermin! Let me out of here!' Get me out, before I do something I can't reverse.

Anything other than taking his own life Elarja could reverse. He was Master of Time; some had called him Father Time. For the Stones he had crafted could move not only through space and dimensions, but also from past to present, to future, and the reverse. This was why the Sons and Daughter so desperately needed him. Without him, the fate of Kismeria was held within the clutches of Doom.

Chapter 1

Shared Visions and Dreams

Adem was not prepared to face the day, after the nightmare he had received the previous evening. After waking drenched in sweat—a sure sign of how terrified he must be as he almost never sweated any other time—panting and gasping for breath as the images flashed through his mind again. A beautiful woman, dark hair and eyes that burnt like dark fire, as he hovered in a tunnel of flames that scorched his flesh and melted his bones. The woman told him of his fate, that he was to meet his death at the hands of Corruption, and that he would be turned to become a willing servant of the Jinn-Lord!

The woman had called him a Son of Odin. A name she repeated each time he was addressed by her as he screamed in agony in the tunnel of flames. High at the peak of the burning vortex he had seen the face of this Jinn-Lord. Menacing and cruel, eyes of golden orange flames like wicked fangs. A skull like some bison formed of shadowed tar; burning twisted horns and a maw filled with dark fangs!

Adem looked into those eyes and felt the terror of meeting a being of pure corruption. It was matched only by his previous experience, that night, years ago, at Bright, when he first had learnt that ghosts were not imagined, not a mythology. Not some false religious fantasy cooked up to inspire hope or fear in the hearts of mankind so that they could follow some sort of faith to rob them of their riches, but that ghosts were in fact real. As true to life as your next door neighbour, who waves to you over the fence and asks, 'How was your day?'

Ever since that night at Bright the world had been a very different place for Adem Highlander. He had known since that night that he and his two closest friends all became Witnesses—in the truest form—that life for him and for his friends was never going to be the same again. But he had never imagined that even his worst nightmares could inspire such terror, such agony, such horrors to believe that there could be even more to reality than the world he had come to know. Waking in a cold sweat, despite the burning across his skin that gave him an unshakable sense of certainty that in some way his dream was also quite real.

That morning he had remained awake from the early hours following the nightmare. He had spent most of that time thinking back over the ordeal, catching sudden glimpses of things he had not quite remembered when first waking. The woman's face, the tunnel of flames, but there was more. He had seen a land, beautiful beyond imagining. A land filled with people of incredible magic powers, like something from his favourite fantasy novels. So vivid and detailed he did not see how his mind could have created them. It seemed, when he saw the faces of some of those men and women, that he also knew them. As if he were seeing glimpses of an impossible future he would someday live to see. If the woman spoke truthfully, perhaps he would meet these strange beings from a distant land. After all, with what he already knew about reality, anything was possible.

He had seen other creatures, demons and vampires, werewolves and shadow cloaked assassins that wielded tainted crimson blades that glowed like hot blood. Their faces were that of pale monsters with eyes like menacing black seeds. But it was the evil force they radiated that turned his heart to stone, his blood to ice, as it reminded him of that terrible magic, he had experienced that night at Bright. Though that part at least was not unlike so many other nightmares he had become accustomed to since that night also.

That evening he still made it to the city by train: as he would not let even this shocking a revelation spoil his chances of meeting with his new agent. Anna was on time and looked radiant in a sparkling black evening dress. It was summertime, the weather was cool despite the daylight-savings sun still clear in the sky at a quarter to seven. The older woman beamed when she laid eyes on him in his black suit and tie.

'I was beginning to wonder if you would make it,' she said in a tone that suggested she would have been most displeased if he had not. Batting her long eyelashes with dark eyes burning, Anna had not a wrinkle on her face despite the apparent wisdom to her gaze. There was something odd about it in fact, as if she were apart from the world, eyes that saw beyond day and night. The eyes of Mother Time, or a Sorceress from his imagined worlds with the power to drag down the stars and turn rivers to crystalline snow. It was unnerving in a way. But she also made him feel relaxed, quite comfortable. More himself than he had felt for a very long time, and it was for that reason if for no other that he had agreed to take her up on her offer.

They waited in line with the other fancily dressed people, as Anna handed him a large white cardboard ticket she produced from her purse. Women wearing silks and leathers, women that would make his jaw drop and their partners clean cut in their finest attire, spread across red carpet with ropes and bollards shining in the evening sunlight.

Anna was telling him how handsome he looked, saying, 'I can see your name up in lights,' and other positive things to boost his confidence. She obviously detected how much that was lacking. It was during this time that they waited and talked casually that Adem noticed a very tall man striding through the crowd. Perhaps the oddest sight he had ever laid eyes upon anywhere in the world of men! — other than the night he witnessed an apparition of a man burning blue at Bright.

He had the look of a wizard. A wide brimmed hat with a conical top, a robe and cloak and he carried a very large twisted staff that he was using as a walking stick, although the gait of the bushy bearded fellow showed he had no need for it. Suddenly the man stopped, looked directly at Adem, and asked in a deep almost echoing tone, 'What will be the hour of your arrival, Son of Odin?'

It was the name he used that struck Adem like a lightning bolt. He suddenly dropped the ticket and bent down instinctively to catch it before hitting the ground. But when he looked up again, the man had vanished from the crowd. There was more to it as well. The man's eyes had glowed like silver orbs when he spoke, and at least in Adem's mind he had seen a flashback of the images from his nightmare. The woman and the vortex of flames, the Jinn-Lord and those people he knew but was yet to know. He knew in that moment of subliminal flashes that this man was somehow connected.

'Did you see that man?' he asked Anna in complete shock.

'What man?' Anna asked with a blank expression.

'The one who called me: "Son of Odin!"'

'Odin?' Anna asked, looking perplexed. 'I saw no such man, Adem. Are you feeling alright?' She put a hand to his head as if to take his temperature like a caring mother.

'I feel fine,' he said. 'Just my imagination playing tricks on me. I had a strange nightmare last night, and what the man said to me ... It was just like in my dream ... only a woman said it to me in my dream, a woman who—'

'Are you on any sort of medication?' Anna asked with a probing glare.

'Yes, I do ... I mean, yes, I am. It's a long story. I'll tell you all about it some time. I will go and speak with my psychiatrist about it in the morning. I hope this does not affect my chances of you becoming my agent?' Anna smiled; there was a warm seductive way about her. Just then, his mobile phone rang in his pocket. He checked the caller ID and saw it was his fellow Witness, Carl Wilder. 'Forgive me while I take this call. It might be important.' He then quickly flipped the phone to answer the call.

'Carl, my old mate. How have you been?'

'I had a strange dream last night, Adem,' Carl said, his voice sounded urgent and shaken. 'I'd call it a nightmare. I have had others like it before, since that night at Bright. But this one was different. There was a woman, a very beautiful woman. She called me "Son of Odin." She said other things to me. She said that I was "marked by Jinn-Fendinn!" Then today I saw a man, who looked like a wizard. He called me "Son of Odin!" He asked, "What will be the hour of your arrival?"'

'When did you see the man?' Adem asked. He was surprised the shock of his friend's words had not made him drop the phone. His hand was shaking; he was shivering all over with a mixture of amazement and pure fear. 'I saw him about an hour ago,' Carl said. 'He was standing out the front of my house. So, I went outside to talk to him, and then he said it, "Son of Odin!" I nearly fell-down in shock! Then I turned back to the house for a moment ... Rosa called my name ... and when I looked back ... he'd vanished. I thought you should be the first one I told. You know more about this sort of thing than most people.'

'You know more than most people too, my old friend,' Adem said, fighting to control his nerves. 'I saw the same man, and last night, I had the same dream. They both said those words, "Son of Odin". Listen, I want you to come and see me tomorrow. We must stay together and ride this thing out. Call William and ask if he has had the same visions and dreams. Bring him with you. We need to stay together. I have to end the call now though, mate. I'll text you when I'm ready. Bye mate.'

'I'll come right over, mate,' Carl said in a surprisingly calm voice. 'I'll see you tomorrow, with William. I'll make sure he comes.'

'OK, mate. Speak soon.' He flipped the phone back together and put it in his pocket.

'You are shaking, Adem,' Anna said. 'Your friend saw the same man ... the one you said you saw just now?'

Adem said, 'My friend is not on any medication. He has a great career, a wife, and a baby daughter. He's not nuts. If he saw the same man, something important is about to take place. It could mean any number of things.'

'It is a very strange coincidence to say the least,' Anna said with a puzzled frown. 'Are you certain you still want to see the orchestra play?'

'Yes, I want to,' Adem said. 'I want to very much, Anna.'

'And tomorrow, you can come for a photo shoot. Your friends can come too, Carl and William, is it? If they are handsome, I will include them in the shoot. Perhaps I will see the same aura around them, or a similar one. It sounds as if you are all connected, perhaps that has something to do with the aura. I have a gorgeous model to pose with you too − young, blonde, blue eyes, slim, and tall with perfect curves. Jean is her name. Jean Fairsythe. She is American from Los Angeles, a model and a potential actress. You two will have much to talk about.'

'Sounds perfect,' he said. It gave him the perfect excuse to keep his friends close to him for the rest of the day at least.

'Wonderful,' Anna said, 'I will have my crew ready at dawn. You said early afternoon though, right?'

'Around midday should be fine. I'll text you the address.' They were at the front of the line by now, and the door man took their tickets and waved them towards the gold-framed glass double doorway. Adem linked arms with her again, and they made their way inside.

The stairs were red carpeted with gold railings, and they had to climb two levels to get to their seats. As they were approaching the red-painted doorway to the entrance to where their seats were waiting, Anna unlinked arms and said, 'I have to go, powder my nose. See you in there, sweetheart.' Adem gave a short bow and smiled as she slipped away down the red carpeted floor. Chandeliers hung from the high white plastered ceiling that was worked with gold cornices in sculptures of cherub angels.

A doorman was there. Dressed in a red coat with gold and silver scrollwork on the shoulders and cuffs, dark trousers, and knee-high black leather boots. A short stocky man of middling years with a grey moustache, close cropped beard, and grey-blue eyes.

As the door swung open and Adem stepped into the darkness, he heard the man say, 'Now is the time of your arrival, Son of Odin.' It was the same deep voice of the wizard-looking man in the street! Adem spun to face the man. The man's eyes glowed with white fire. The doorway and the light beyond were swallowed by a vortex of shadows. The shadows swirled to become clouds of fire—strands of glowing dust burst from the clouds stretching off into infinity within the darkness. The glowing dust became a flock of doves burning silver. Diving and flowing in and out of focus as a great sea swept upon his vision. They suddenly swooped to lift him up into the clouds above, and when they took flight once more, he felt an amazing rush of energies enter his heart and soul. His mind was alive with energy. He spun in circles while climbing higher into the sky as if carried by wings. Lightning fell from the clouds to surround his form in glowing aqua bolts that increased his sense of pure magic filling his mind and body. He laughed in the ecstasy of its incandescence, feeling that he might control the very waves as they crashed against the shores of a white cliff coastline. He was flying above it all, the seas churning beneath him where he saw Neptune commanding the waves as the King of the Sea.

He saw that incredible land of his dreams the night before, the parts of his nightmare that could be called a dream. Again, he saw the faces of those remarkable people that he seemed to know, although he had never met them—particularly the faces of two couples. Both looking almost identical except for small details in both the males and females of each pair. The men dark of hair and eyes and tall as Vikings, with pointed ears of Elf Kin, high brows and close-cropped moustaches and goatees. The women were beautiful beyond comparison with milk white skin and eyes of blue flame. Wives to the two men, each wearing a golden crown of jewels. It seemed these four commanded a vast portion of the magic of this land, and they were among its rulers. He saw them leading their armies in battles against the demons of this world—and he could never know such people as they were magicians and sorceresses, warriors, kings and queens. Yet he knew them, or he knew at least that he would come to know them, in this vast land of magic and wonders.

He saw the way they lived in enormous cities and castles, or palaces of high stone walls, to keep the demons at bay. He saw the southern regions beyond the mountains where bloodsucking vampires ruled the peoples of those lands through fear and dominance, and the Eastlands where the demons—of dark skin and scaled hides, skulls of rams or bulls with dark horns and blazing red eyes—and other foul beasts held dominion. Burning and devouring everything in their path.

Then he also saw more powerful beings like the Sea God he had named Neptune. Gods of Earth and Sky, of Forests and Rivers. Demigods with incredible powers of lightning and fire, that they wielded and aided the people of these lands to battle the demon of hordes. He felt that he knew these beings also, as if their history and their names were just beneath the surface of his memory, but it was a barrier he could not yet pass through to gain that precious knowledge.

Thunder like the roar of a thousand king lions boomed in his ears. Winds sucked him down a swirling grey vortex to land on bended knee against the dark soil and stone of the Eastlands. Landing with a heavy thud that sent shockwaves flying from his form and seemed to make the earth tremble. Adem stood on solid ground once more, and he turned in the direction the orchestra should have been—as the place he had stood only moments before was still a part of his memory, though the majesty of this place was pulling apart his perceptions of reality. Like a dream that tangles itself around consciousness, fooling you to believe it is real—and before his eyes was a wall of grey stone. Rising sixty feet or more into a grey sky of dark clouds and forked lightning!

A fierce storm wind and rain belted against his skin and bones. Thunder echoed again like a God of Chaos. He felt great evil from this place, suddenly so different from the invigorating and revitalising emotions he had felt moments before. He felt this place was crushing down upon his soul. Like dark gravity that sucks upon the life threads of happiness and calm, bringing a deep sense of fear, sorrow, pain and heartache. He suddenly thought of his beloved parents, apparently now so far away from him. He was perhaps only seconds away from that promised death, where he would meet the Jinn-Lord and become his servant!

The grey stone wall was ruined to the point that it appeared divided in the centre, and a grey stone path was paved stretching into the distance. A grey tower over a hundred feet high rose into the raging clouds that seemed to radiate an ominous threat. He sensed that it was at least part of the overwhelming force of chaos within this place. A source of evil penetrating the very fibres of human existence to the point that he only wished to fall there and then. Give up and die if it would only bring his suffering to an end.

The tower was perfectly rectangular and over thirty paces wide though larger at the base than the tip. For some reason he was suddenly fixated on such details, perhaps to draw his mind away from the spiritual torment by focusing on abstract physical features of the landscape. The front of the tower was facing him flatly; the dark pock marked stone seemed to glow like polished tar lit with dark fires. A large rectangular wooden door stood at its centre base. A much smaller door within the door swung open, and a dwarf-sized creature stepped out.

Adem's mouth was hanging open in shock at the vision. He would have been certain he was having a relapse if Carl had not called him about the dream and the vision. But common sense told him all that he had just witnessed was far beyond any simple hallucination. It was real. It was as solid a reality as walking into a bar and picking up a pint of beer.

The creature that strolled towards him through the rain was short and stocky with dark olive-green skin. Its eyes were large yellow ovals that glowed like lanterns. The first word that sprang to mind was Goblin. He focused on the physical features of the creature again to distract his mind from that ominous force. The creature wore a dark green hooded robe of wool with a matching long-sleeved vest, dark leather trousers, and knee-high brown leather boots. A short blade that looked the right size for a sword for the creature hung from a brown belt balanced by a small quiver. A short horn bow stuck up above its shoulder with a leather strap stretched across its chest. Its nose was like some giant malformed gherkin.

The creature stood a few paces away from him when it said, 'My Master has been waiting for you,' it spoke like a toad. 'Come this way, Son of Odin. You have much to learn. We will show you the Old Ways, the ways of the Shadow.' His last word was enough to tell him he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He heard horse hooves clipping across the paved stone.

From beyond the tower, a dark horse and dark-cloaked rider appeared. The rider stopped in front of the tower, and Adem felt great evil radiating from this figure. It was the same as the evil force he had felt from the ghosts at Bright; only this one was much stronger than the male ghost of Bright. This figure of shadows was many times stronger. At that moment he also knew this being was the main source of evil that had permeated the very air he breathed when first arriving at this location. A kind of demigod of malevolence. The force was a crushing claw gripping inside his chest and choking out his every desperate gasp for breath. Adem nearly fell to his knees in fear, despite a kind of resilience within his soul that was forged to become something apart from the average mortal man. This was perhaps the only thing that was still keeping him on his feet. He was trembling, and his teeth chattered. He fought for courage, the way he had that night at Bright.

He had to remind himself that he was an immortal soul also, and that these cursed spirits may be stronger in some ways, but they were weaker in others. That was his philosophy with ghosts at least. He had learnt that night that ghosts carry a powerful spell of corruption upon their souls that they may radiate within the location they are haunting—that much was plainly evident and linked to this experience here and now. But he had also told his friends that night that living human souls had to be protected in some ways by the human body as a physical barrier, that should make a living soul in some ways stronger in terms of spirit than a cursed ghost—however this evil spirit had a physical body. So, he was not sure what to think right at this moment about who was stronger. He was guessing it was the dark rider. It drew a longsword that glowed blood red. 'Son of Odin,' it spoke in a voice like rotting flesh and bones being crushed under stone. The wail of tortured souls seemed to pierce the air. Darkness seemed to close in all around him with its tone that reminded him of death, agony, malevolence and hatred. 'We have been waiting for you, in accordance with the Prophecies of the Arrival. Where are your Brothers? The Prophecies always spoke of three Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. Speak now, or I shall have your tongue.'

In a blur of thought, Adem had his phone out in an instant. He flipped the lid open and held it out threateningly like it was a gun or a bomb. The phone glowed brightly, and the Goblin creature stared at it with a curious frown. The Shadow Rider – that was the name he gave it – appeared to hesitate a moment, his horse seeming ready to charge but faltering for a moment. Then the horse began to bolt towards him, the beast screamed in a way that spoke volumes of the dark magic wrapped upon its soul, and why else would a horse serve a creature so foul and terrifying.

The next moments were a blur as Adem turned to run into the darkness behind him ... the shadows became swirls of molten fire like a whirlpool doorway of lava. He saw the demigods swooping down to his rescue. Angel winged male and female spirits of burning gold, crimson or aqua. Some tall as giants wielded axes or swords that glowed with bright energy, while female angels carried blazing red spears or branches of burning white. They appeared out of the clouded sky above in a beam of pure light. He heard the angels singing, the voices joining with the beam of light to produce a feeling of freedom, elation and ecstasy within. Warming his core with a bright glow that washed away the ice of horrors he had faced. The claw of Corruption that had threatened to take his life, and that evil horsemen from his worst nightmares.

All he could do was run, but as the light touched down upon him, he found that he was lifted while running, up into the sky. Each footstep touched down on invisible steps that lifted him higher like a glass escalator. Lightning filled the sky all around him, as he looked back to see the bolts causing ruin to the Rider and Goblin and their kin that swarmed around the tower, but still he ran. With the warm fires in his chest, fear washing away, the songs of angels in his ears ... the burning beam became a rectangular doorway opening into a room of light ... the hallway where the doorman had called him 'Son of Odin.' Anna stood in the doorway with the grey moustached man holding the door for her. The man chuckled and looked at Adem with a glint of mirth in his eyes.

'Are you alright, Adem?' Anna asked. 'You still look quite frightened. You're trembling with terror. What was it?' Adem noticed more lights reflecting off the dark walls within the doorway. He turned to see red and green lights glowing in the distance. Red seats leading down to a large stage where the grey stone tower had stood moments before. The orchestra began to play.

'You're all wet!' Anna exclaimed as she ran a finger down his cheek. 'Is that sweat?'

'It must be,' Adem said, fighting to control his shivering and clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. But it was not sweat. He never sweated. It was rain. And he was standing inside a theatre with a closed ceiling! He clutched the phone in a white-knuckled grip before putting it back in his pocket slowly. Taking the phone out his pocket had been real at least. He knew however that everything he had just experienced had to be real.

But that's impossible! He thought frantically. Ghosts are real, God is real, even the Devil is real, but there is only one reality! There is only one-real world! The rest is imagined! It must be! But it was real! The Goblin, the Shadow Rider, it was all too real!

The orchestra resonated in his ears, including harp strings, violins, and cellos. It reminded him of the guitar strings. It reminded him of Bright.

'You look terrified, duckling,' Anna said. 'Here, take a seat and rest. Breathe deeply. What was it you saw? Tell me. You can tell me anything, and I will believe you. You have the aura, remember.'

Considering doing further damage to his relationship with his potential agent, Adem sat and began to take deep slow breaths. He was not going to tell Anna what he saw, but tomorrow, he was certainly going to tell Carl and William. If they had experienced similar visions by tomorrow when he saw them, he would know he was not losing the plot.

When he arrived home, his father was seated on the couch in front of the widescreen television. Commercials were playing, and the almost bizarre nature of their jargon appeared dazing to Adem in his current state of mind. His father was snoring with his head tilted against his chest, his large square-shaped spectacles still on his face. Adem thought his father was always sleep deprived – the reason he nearly always fell asleep in front of the television – though he always stayed up late and got up early. Six hours or so was enough sleep for him, or so he thought.

It was after midnight. Adem shook his father gently and called his name until the old man opened his eyes and dazedly nodded and raised his head.

'Falling asleep on the couch again: Dad? Go to bed,' Adem said softly.

'I will,' his father replied, and then he closed his eyes and went back to sleep, as he always did before the third or fourth attempt to wake him. This time it only took three attempts, and as his father stood and stumbled towards the bedroom, Adem turned off the television and moved to turn off the lamp. Before he did, he glanced around the large sitting room that was joined to a kitchen with black marble benches. The ceilings were over twenty feet high of white plaster with thick dark wooden beams sloping down from a red and brown brick wall. Sliding glass double doors served as a divider to the pool table room. The house was on two acres with a long red gravel driveway and beautiful gardens. There was a view of the lake from the front of the house, they had a pool and a tennis court, and the real lounge room was a large sunken area with a similar high roof. The bedrooms and bathrooms were down the long hallway that stretched off the pool room at the opposite end of the house.

He turned off the lamp and turned his head as if to walk to his bedroom ... A red light began to glow in the distance ... so far off he knew it was beyond the material walls of his living room. The glow released a blast of energy as it floated towards him, surrounding a tall, hooded figure cloaked in shadows as a rumble of thunder shook the atmosphere. Caverns of endless flame glowed within the cowl of the figure, two burning eyes of orange-gold. An evil voice boomed in his ears like the thunder, 'Son of Odin! It is time for you to kneel at the feet of my Master! The High-Jinn calls!'

Immense waves of evil force radiated from this shadow being, waves ten times stronger than the Shadow Rider! Any mortal man would have fallen to his knees and begged for mercy, begged and pleaded and promised anything, just to be released from those punishing waves! But Adem's spirit was made of stronger mettle than any mortal man. He stood proudly before the Shadow Man, gritting his teeth and glaring defiantly as he said, 'I call upon the Power of the Holy Trinity. I call on their Power to cast you out, demon.'

The words were all his own – though when he said, 'I call upon their Power to cast you out, demon,'– the voice was something not of this world; it boomed even louder than the voice of the Shadow Man, like the roar of ten thousand lions. It seemed that those last words had come from someone else's mind also, a mind within his own mind. In that instant, he saw the face of a tanned skinned man with a black beard and moustache and long dark waves of hair falling to his shoulders. The figure wore a pale brown woollen robe that was soaked in blood, a crown of thorns upon his brow dug into his skull drawing more blood. The first thought that came to mind was Jesus Christ!

Blinding light filled his vision, enveloping the Shadow Man and fanning outwards in an explosive blast like an atomic bomb. The sound he heard next was like all matter in the universe being consumed in a single heartbeat. In that instant, the light was consumed by shadows. Like a giant star-sized vacuum sucking in the atomic blast and making it shrink back to a single point the size of a pea. The tiny ball of light hovered in front of Adem within endless shadows. Then darkness except for the pale blue moonlight that poured through the large glass windows of his living room. He gasped for breath and stumbled towards the light switch.

He stood there shivering in the light of the living room for some time, until his mother appeared in the hallway in her pink silk dressing gown. He realised then that his right hand had been clutching his keys, including the small silver Holy Cross, that he had found shortly after his visit to Bright.

His mother was chest height on him, slim with blue eyes, and dark hair in a long tail. 'What are you still doing up?' she asked. 'Is your father in bed?' She looked weary as if she had just woken. 'You're shaking! What is wrong with you? Have you taken your medication?' Adem steadied himself, took a deep breath, and replied, 'Yes, but I think I will take more to get a good night's sleep.' He quickly thought up a lie to cover as he said, 'I must have fallen asleep on the couch, I had a nightmare ... about Bright.' His mother shook her head and sighed before she said, 'Did you have a good night?'

'I did,' he lied, though the orchestra was enjoyable when he could soothe his nerves. 'It's rare to get a bit of culture,' he said, and then he managed a smirk. His mother smiled sadly and said, 'Yes, well, you will be getting more of that when you are a big movie star. Did Anna have a good time?'

'She is hooking me up with a hot American model,' he said with an even broader grin. 'Jean Fairsythe, blonde hair, blue eyes, gorgeous she says. We're doing a photo shoot tomorrow afternoon. Carl and William are gonna join us.' Adem was just over six feet tall, blue eyed with long dark brown hair that he always tied back in a ponytail. He had a thick ginger moustache that curved down his face like horns, and a triangle of hair from below his bottom lip that currently extended lower than his chin.

'Well, I hope this Jean girl is closer to your own age. It's not right, a woman as old as Anna taking a handsome young man out to the orchestra. It's very strange.'

'She's my agent,' Adem said. 'Did you hear anything just now?'

'Something woke me,' his mother said as she rubbed her head, 'like a loud crash, a boom, like thunder. Is it raining?'

'Not sure, but I thought I heard thunder too,' Adem said.

He followed his mother down the hall after turning off the living room light but not before turning on the hallway light, then his bedroom light. He changed out of the suit and into his tracksuit; then sat in front of the computer, checking emails, looking on the internet, and then meditating on his recent experiences to try to gain a sense of calm. He stayed up long into the night after a double dose of his medication. He did not want to take any sleeping tablets as he feared being trapped in another one of those insane dreams. Normally, a nightmare would not bother him, but when nightmares started walking in the waking world, you had to stand up and take note.

He decided against visiting his psychiatrist the next morning. He could speak with his friends first and see what they had to say. It was three in the morning when he was about to go to bed when he received a text message.

It was from Carl Wilder. It read ... 'Had another nightmare! ;( ! This one was about a man made of shadows with eyes of flame! He said he had come to take me! William just called me about an hour ago, and he had the exact same nightmare! ;( !'

He sent a reply text to Carl. It read, 'Call you in the morning ... ;( ;( ;( !!!' The third frowny face and subsequent triple exclamation marks was as far as he was willing to go to try to explain by text that Adem had also had the same nightmare – only he was certain he had been awake at the time! He was seriously concerned that one of the three Sons of Odin was not going to wake in the morning.

Chapter 2

Jean Fairsythe

Adem woke at nine. He was relieved that he had not had any nightmares that he could remember. He could not remember any of his dreams in fact. He checked his phone, and there were no messages from Carl. He sent him a text that read, 'Come over straight away. Bring William.' A few minutes later, he got a text back from Carl that read, 'On my way. We will be there in less than an hour. ;) .' Adem sent a text back with three smiley faces.

He stood off the side of his bed, walked to the bathroom, and got ready for a shower. He checked his reflection; he had dimples, something he didn't think of often as he rarely smiled when he looked in the mirror. He rarely smiled properly in photos either. That was something he would need to work on for the photo shoot. He practiced smiling a few times till it looked natural, then stripped and turned on the hot water. He hoped he did not have any visions while in the shower!

Please, no more visions, he thought, as he stepped under the shower head after turning the cold tap on slightly. He was glad when he finished, dried, and dressed without seeing any goblins, Shadow Men, or Shadow Riders!

His mother asked him when his friends were arriving, and he said, 'Soon.' He just then remembered to text his address to Anna. She sent a text back immediately saying, 'My crew and I will be there in an hour! ;) .'

He told his father about the plans for the day, and his father said, 'That's good! Do you know if you will get paid?' The man would still insist on work every day even if there was no pay. His father was a little shorter than him though easily six feet tall. He had a full head of grey-streaked dark black hair, short and neatly cut. His close-cropped black beard and moustache was also getting closer to a total grey-white every day now. Mostly he was calm and well-mannered, a kind and proper gentleman. He was a rare breed of man, disciplined and civilized, very knowledgeable about all manner of things that never ceased to amaze Adem.

Jason's skill with machinery was his greatest form of knowledge, at least the most useful. Cars, televisions, vacuum cleaners, you name it, he should be able to fix it once he pulled it apart and saw how it was made. And he was an all-round handy man with a large shed full of tools. Today he wore blue jeans and a dark blue polo shirt that were his knock-around-the-house clothes with grey socks. 'No, I don't think I get paid for the photo shoot,' Adem explained. 'They are very expensive, and it sounds like Anna has offered to do it for free.' He did his best to manage a confident smile. Inside, however, he was still a complete nervous wreck.

Ten minutes later, Carl rang his mobile to say he was out the front. Adem raced from his bedroom to the front door where he saw Carl standing in the large glass windows beside the lacquered wooden door. Carl was almost as tall as Adem. Carl was fair-skinned, grey-blue eyes with short, spiked blond hair. Adem was slightly anxious to see for sure that Wil was there also. Then he opened the door to see that Wil was there. They both smiled though he could see the terror in the eyes of both of his friends. The last time he saw that look was when they were getting haunted on a loft in the middle of the night near Bright.

'So, the three Sons of Odin are together once more!' Adem said in a strong voice that he tried to fill with courage. They grinned at that, though, they looked only a little less terrified. They went out to the tennis court to have a quick discussion before Anna arrived. He told them about the photo shoot first, and they looked thrilled at the idea. 'Jean Fairsythe is all mine though,' Adem said to Wil.

'I only want to know what the hell is going on,' Wil said, through clenched teeth. 'Dark-cloaked riders on dark horses, men with eyes of fire and voices like thunder.'

'And a wizard was standing outside my house!' Carl cried, and then looked around nervously. The neighbours were close but not that close. Still, Adem thought better of it and said, 'I don't want Anna and her crew hearing us talking about this insanity and especially not Jean Fairsythe. We will stay together for the whole day, and if Carl can arrange with Rosa to spend the night here, I say that you should stay too, Wil. If we are all together ... and we have another one of these visions ... maybe it will be a shared vision ... just like at Bright.'

Carl and Wil agreed it was a good plan. They then went inside to wait for Anna, and Adem made them all coffees and offered some jam scones with cream his mother had baked the day before. As he took his first sip of coffee, he had a craving for a cigarette, but he knew Carl disapproved of his smoking. Then Wil asked him, 'Ciggie?' He produced a pack of Adem's favourite brand of smokes. The result was another quick rehash of the events at Bright – out the backyard on the concrete paving in front of his lazy chairs – with Carl and Wil both confirming they remembered the event the same as Adem did.

Adem did not bother to rehash on the details of their recent dreams or visions, despite the similarities, such as the name 'Son of Odin,' because they were not shared experiences, so it could never be proved to be more than coincidentally similar hallucinations or dreams.

They then sat on the three canvas chairs and smoked and drank their coffees, Adem asking Wil about his work situation and Carl telling Adem he had recently been promoted. Wil looked the spitting image of his father − tall, long rectangular face, dark eyes, and short-spiked brown hair.

About a half hour later, Anna rang his phone to tell him they were out the front. He made his way to the front door after stepping inside to tell his parents they were leaving. Carl and Wil said goodbye to Jason and Marion, then stepped out the front door. Anna was waiting on the front red brick-tile paved porch. She wore blue jeans and a bulky white blouse today with a red kerchief tying back her hair.

She smiled brightly at the three boys, then said, 'You all have a great aura about you, and there is a connection between the auras, I can see it. Yours is much brighter today than it was last night, Adem. And you are all so handsome. I will make film stars out of all three of you if I have my way. Come, meet the crew, and most importantly, Adem meet Jean.'

This time Adem really did stumble when he looked up to set eyes on Jean Fairsythe.

'You must be Adem, I have heard so much about you,' she smiled, and it sent rockets exploding in his soul. Her crystal blue eyes were like big shining pools you could drown in. Her hair was long golden silk and tied back in a tail with a red hair tie. Her skin was pale white, smooth like butter and cream, and her cheeks were slightly rounded when she smiled though she had a strong muscular jaw and cheekbones. She wore a skimpy blue plaid tennis skirt and a white blouse that gleamed in the sunlight with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

'You are very beautiful, Jean,' Adem said attempting to sound immediately charming. 'These are my best friends, Carl and William. We call him Wil for short.' Jean shook each of their hands in introduction and her wide red-lipped smile was stunning with gleaming pearl white teeth. His two friends appeared equally stunned over Jean and her outfit. She was simply breathtaking. She was about of equal height with Adem.

Adem wore dark navy-blue jeans with orange stitching; his black sneakers with the fluorescent green soles, a black T-shirt with a white lion's face symbol, and his black leather jacket. His hair was brushed and tied back in a tail with a black hair tie, and he wore his navy-blue baseball cap.

Anna had told him to dress neat and casually, and although he forgot to mention it to the boys in his text to Carl last night, the other two Sons of Odin also looked fit for adventure in blue jeans and sneakers. Carl wearing a clean white-collared shirt under a navy blue finely cut thin woollen sweater. Wil wore a pale grey T-shirt with a black outline of an Asian dragon on it, under a brown waist-length stylish leather jacket. They looked the part. The rest of the crew who were two male photographers and a female assistant all said quick greetings and waved, and then they were all climbing into the minibus.

They drove to the countryside in the same direction as the town where the three boys had gone to high school together. Adem was not sure where they were exactly when they finally arrived at about two o'clock, but they drove through the town and stopped for a pint at the local brewery on the way there. Adem tried the stout which is a mixture of coffee, caramel, chocolate, and other hints of various flavours. He normally did not drink stouts, but Wil recommended it.

He still always opened a door for any lady, and he made sure he held it open for Jean while everyone made their way inside. Jean was last, and she smiled warmly and gave him a light tap on the nose as she said, 'You are a fine gentleman, Adem. Thank you. There are not enough young men in this day and age who uphold the old values and customs, particularly how to treat a lady.'

'My father always told me to open and hold the door for a lady,' Adem said. 'And you my darling, are such a Lady.' He made sure he held the door open for everyone when they left too, but that time, Jean only smiled in gratitude and climbed in the minibus without a word.

They arrived at the location and unpacked the gear; Adem, Carl, and Wil helped while Anna and Jean picked out the views. They eventually decided they would shoot with the brown river flowing in the background, on the grass by the riverbank. Forest-covered mountains stood high in the background on the far side of the river, and Scottish thistles sprouted up out of the long dry grasses. Rabbits hopped along on the hillsides, and magpies swooped over the river to pick for grubs in the soil. They heard a kookaburra in a tree close to the river and eventually saw it swoop down into the tall grasses. Adem guessed it must have been after a king brown snake, so he warned Anna and Jean not to go near that area.

Where they were setting up to shoot was short grass for miles all around the hillside as a result-of controlled burn offs with some green sprouting in a thin carpet-like layer.

To Adem's delight, Anna set him up for the first hour of photos, posing with just him and Jean. Sometimes Anna told him to take off his cap and jacket, then to wear the jacket, then the hat, and then both.

Jean was amazing in the way she posed and presented herself with her comical or sexy expressions; she was a true star in the making. Adem thought she had the potential to be the biggest film star ever. He forgot his fears, the visions, and the nightmares, forgot all his bad memories while he posed with her, played in front of the camera and held her in his arms. For the first time he could remember, he was more than just content, more than happy.

When Anna called for a quick break, Jean wound her long skinny arms around Adem's neck and laid a soft kiss right on his lips. 'Nice working with you, Adem Highlander.'

Anna told Carl and Wil to jump in for the next series of shots as she said, 'I want you all in it together. I hope to capture your shared auras. Yours is very bright when you stand with Adem too, Jean. Now crowd together, like a family portrait, big smiles.'

Adem heard harp strings strummed. He thought at first, he had imagined it, but then the sound came again. Three distinctly plucked strings, then another three. He was standing behind Jean, holding his arms around her waist, staring at the camera with Carl and Wil on either side of him. 'Does anyone else hear harp strings?' he asked. The first few had been faint, though they had grown louder each time.

'I heard them!' Jean cried. 'I thought I was imagining things.'

'I heard them too,' Carl said, sounding a little uneasy.

'Me too,' Wil said.

Adem held on to Jean with one arm as he turned to face the water ... the water had turned sparkling blue. The sky that was mostly covered with grey skies before he turned his head was clear bright blue skies behind him with a scattering of fluffy white clouds that glowed incandescent in the sunlight. The sun was also directly overhead, suggesting it was midday! It must have been past three o'clock by now!

But that was not what stunned him completely; it was the strange grey stone tower rising from an island in the centre of the water that was now a huge lake rather than a wide river! —A lake that stretched off into the horizon with massive blue stone mountains and snow-capped peaks piercing the clouds rising in the distance. The mountains were also much taller than the ones that had been there a moment before.

Then the sounds came again, three strings plucked one after the other. The sound of each reverberated through the air like a siren song, growing louder and more distinct each time. Then a flute began to play, clear and harmonious, loud, and strong. It was a tune unfamiliar to Adem's ears, but it was beautiful. Deep and mysterious. Pure. He turned back to see Anna standing in front of the photographers. She looked at Adem and smiled; that glint of mirth in her dark eyes.

Then Anna, the crew, the bushland was all swallowed by a vortex of light and shadows like a whirlpool doorway—the light exploded into tiny filaments of burning gold and white energies that broke off in different directions to take the forms of birds flying in the distance. A void of shadows with incredible depths subverted the image of Anna and the photographers until they vanished within the burning tunnel that opened before them, as more-light spiralled through the darkness as if boring a massive hole through space and time. The coils of energy began to flare and crackle like lightning bolts as a soft rumbling like thunder filled the darkness and the light. A burning brilliance began to dominate over the shadows, burning away the void as a bright ball of light appeared high above. It was the sun shining in a sky of blue.

As the new dimension behind Adem forged with the vision that opened before them, all in a matter of a few seconds, it seemed the four of them stood paralysed, while a sensation of a great shift took over Adem. It was as if he were being moved through space at a hurtling speed, crossing over to another dimension that stood next door or possibly in the next galaxy—to reveal brighter blue skies, miles of lush bright green pasture – with hundreds of deer and a king stag grazing. Stretching off into more rows of jagged blue mountains with gleaming white peaks. A warm breeze swept over his face when the wind had been blowing opposite and chilly a moment before. In his stunned amazement and fascination, he hardly registered the voices around him. It took him a moment to realise he still had an arm around Jean's waist, and she was gripping his wrist and digging in her long sharp pink fingernails till he thought she might draw blood.

'Where are we?' she asked. 'What just happened?'

'This is real!' Wil shouted, and Adem turned to see his friends were there also! Wil was picking tufts of the soft green grass and letting it fall through his fingers to float on the breeze. Carl bent to pick a small flower with pink and blue petals. He sniffed deeply, drawing in the scent; then he said, 'It is real.'

'Someone please tell me what the hell is going on?' Jean asked. 'I mean, I don't mean to freak out or anything but look at this place! Where did the crew go? Where did Anna go?'

She still gripped his wrist but was no longer digging in her nails. Then she turned to him with wonder in her eyes as she asked, 'Adem, did you do this? Did you bring us here? Or was it all three of you? The three Sons of Odin? This is gonna sound weird but now is a time for crazy. I had a dream last night, and all three of your faces were in it. Even though I have never seen any of you three in my life until I met you today!

'There was a woman, a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman. She was very pretty, but I knew there was something not right about her. She told me you three were the Sons of Odin ... she called me the Daughter of Thor ... she said the High-Jinn wanted us all ... and then ... I feel dizzy.' Adem caught her in his arms as she suddenly fainted.

'What the hell is going on?' Wil asked. 'She had the same dream too! What does she have to do with any of this? She's not a ... a Witness.'

The harp and flute were growing louder now, alluring in its tune, drawing them towards its source. The source was the island. A drum began, then a voice was heard. A female voice. Adem thought he might shed tears when he heard how beautiful it was, the voice of an angel. Then more female voices began; the words were in another language, a language that sounded like the songs of the elves. He looked to the water again, and he saw a boat of golden light floating from the island towards the shore that was white sandy beaches. 'Look there,' Carl said, pointing at the boat.

'It's a boat,' Wil said. 'Do we trust them?'

'They sound like my kind of people,' Carl said with one of his wide grins of faith; arms crossed over his chest. 'Let's go find out exactly who they are.'

'Wait till Jean recovers first,' Adem said. 'We can't leave her alone for a second in this place. You saw that Shadow Man with your own eyes, and the Shadow Rider? We can't leave her alone for a second the entire time we are in this ... wherever we are. We will have to sleep with one eye open until we can find some people that we are certain we can trust.'

'We can trust them,' Carl said facing the tower and the source of the angelic singing.

Adem asked his old friend, 'How do you know that? You sense something to confirm that we can trust them?'

'God is sending me a message about these voices,' Carl agreed. 'The message is that we can trust them before we dare trust anyone else in this world.' Adem was fanning Jean with his hat for some time until she opened her eyes and sighed before she asked, 'Was it all just a bad dream?'

'You want the long answer or the short one?' Wil asked. Jean tried to sit up, so the three boys rushed to help her to her feet. Adem continued to lend support as she looked around and finally said, 'Oh my God.'

Adem pointed to the boat and said to Jean softly, 'We can get across to the island, and Carl is certain we can trust these ... angels. Anyway, we all agreed we won't take our eyes off you for a second until we know they are people we can trust. You are safe with the three Sons of Odin, Jean Fairsythe.' He tried to give her a confident smile to ease her nerves.

'Can't you call someone to get us out of here?' Jean asked in a light tone. 'Like the police; search and rescue; or anyone?'

'I don't know if the police can reach us here,' Carl said.

Adem pulled out his phone and flipped it. 'My battery's flat,' he said, just now realising he did not charge it overnight like he usually always did, as he wanted his phone switched on beside his bed, in case Carl tried to text or call him again during the night. Carl pulled out his phone and said, 'I've got battery, but no signal.'

'I've got battery!' Wil cried nervously, and then he held his phone up high for a few moments, moving it left and right through the air before he said, 'Yep, same as always, no reception.' Adem, Jean, and Carl began to laugh, but Wil just frowned and looked at his phone, shaking it from time to time.

Jean sighed, 'Jesus Christ.'

Finally, Carl began to sing in a loud masculine voice, 'Let's go, the boat, the boat! – The angels are calling! Let's get in the boat!' Suddenly, at least a dozen male voices joined in the chorus, a strong rumbling bass sound, in the same hypnotic angelic language. Their voices dragged the song in new directions, darkness and danger, and courage and strength. 'Oh yes, we are in the right place, at the right time, this time,' Carl said, as he began to take quicker strides towards the sand where the boat was now waiting, with a tall figure in a dark blue silk robe and a gold crown encrusted with emeralds and rubies.

As they came closer to the boat, they saw the man was taller than any of the three boys; he looked six feet six inches at least, long dark hair tied back in a tail, large dark eyes filled with a warm kindness and a deep wisdom, tanned skin, and a thin muscular physique. The first word to spring to Adem's mind was Angel.

Adem realised in amazement that this was one of the rulers he had seen in visions of this world, both in his dream and before meeting the goblin and Shadow Rider. It was the first real evidence that these visions and dreams were somehow connected with this world that was now seemingly as real as sitting down for a meal with family or friends.

He gazed in wonder at the figure as they moved closer, while a strange sensation took over him. It was as if the very earth and skies were bleeding a kind of raw energy that was fed into his soul, but at the same time he felt a ghastly presence overlapping that magic. A dark energy that he was certain was related to the evil presence of those Ghosts of Bright. It was the Magic of the High-Jinn.

Chapter 3

The Immortals

Carl was first to approach the tall man in the boat while Adem, Jean, and Wil stood a few paces back on the sand. 'Welcome, Sons of Odin, Daughter of Thor,' the man said in a voice that was deep and powerful like the male singing voices. 'You have come at the Hour of Arrival, in accordance with the Great Prophecy. The Prophecies of your Arrival have been passed down amongst the Immortal Kings and Queens since the Age of Immortals. The Prophecy was first spoken to Rodin Cloud-Walker, the first Immortal King, by Odin, Lord of Lightning.

'Odin was the first of the male Great Angels and so he is known as the All-Father. Teron, the male half of Angel-Magic was forged and passed down into Odin at the Dawn of Ages. Odin used Angel-Magic to assist in the creation of all the male Great Angels, and Teron-Magic flows through them.'

Carl asked, 'So Odin and Thor and the gods of mythology are real? I was taught by my father that there is only the One God.'

The immortal man smiled broadly as he explained, 'They are the Great Angels. They were made by the Lord your God. Your God exists also in our world, Kismeria, as do the Great Angels, who were once a part of your world, Earth.

'My name is Orion Demon-Slayer. I am King of the Torvellen. We are usually light brown-skinned with dark hair and eyes, and we are all very tall. We mostly live in stone kingdoms like the Nordics though some of our race live in the Great Forests like our cousins the Dremelden, who are also known as the Wood Kin.

'The immortals have prayed to the All-Father for your arrival since the First Age, for the Prophecies say that you will break us, but that you will also save us. It is your fate, to face Jinn-Fendinn in the Battle of Ragnarök. However, the Prophecies say that battle is still a long way off. Over a thousand years in fact. So, the next thousand years shall be known as the Age of Chaos.

'We know it has something to do with the Jinn-Magic you have brought with you, you three Sons of Odin. This Jinn-Magic will infect Teron-Magic with the evil forces of Jinn-Fendinn. This will in turn corrupt the minds and souls of all male wielders, both mortal and immortal. I sense Jinn-Magic on teron now, like a delicious fruit riddled with worms and fungus.'

'What is the source of this Jinn-Magic we have brought with us?' Adem asked, as he knew the ghosts of Bright had been cursed with an evil force. He had known that since that night. He had always felt and believed that some part of that evil had been embedded in his flesh and bones, as it seeped into his soul during the haunting.

'You were marked with Jinn-Magic in your world at the age of seventeen,' Orion said. 'You three Sons of Odin were visited by five spirits. Ghosts are what you call them in your world. These ghosts of Earth were corrupted by the Jinn-Magic of Fendinn, and they passed that corruption on to you during that haunting.

'Jinn-Fendinn basically means "The Tempter-Demon" in our language. Jinn-Fendinn is a spirit, like the Great Angels, and they were made in similar ways. These supernatural beings are also known as Genies, due to the fact that they often require Resting Points where their Angel-Magic or Jinn-Magic can regenerate. Fendinn's Jinn-Magic exists within all Angel-Magic, as all magics of our world originated from the same source, and all were once one and the same force. A balance has existed between Jinn-Magic and Angel-Magic since the Dawn of Ages, and it has never been harmful to the Great Angels nor to our people.

'Our Prophecies say that when the Sons of Odin arrive in our world, the two halves of Angel-Magic and Jinn-Magic will become unbalanced. Separated, and concentrated, to the point that the dark forces of Jinn-Fendinn will threaten our sanity and our souls.

'We call this separation of the two magics the Schism, an unbalance of opposing magics that creates an unbalance of the heart and mind. Imagine the two forms of magic as day and night, dark and light, they are opposites, one is pure, the other evil.

'You three Brothers are connected to God, who saved you from those ghosts. The Lord passed down to you the Angel-Magic of the Lightning-Lord Angel. Therefore, Jinn-Magic shall become siphoned from Teron-Magic, creating a division of two opposing magics within the same wielder.'

'I summoned the Power of Jesus that night we were haunted,' Carl said almost in protest. 'I did not summon Odin. It is the Power of Christ that flows through our veins, the Son of God.'

'Yes, the Prophecies speak of this man also,' Orion replied. 'He is believed to be the one who allowed Jinn-Fendinn to concentrate the Jinn-Magic inflicted upon the ghosts of purgatory in your world. It was at the time of his death, the Crucifixion, over two thousand years ago in your world.'

Adem had always been intrigued by the evil forces he felt that night at Bright. Firstly, because there were so many biblical references to possession demons and other evil spirits. Secondly, he had grown up reading so many myths and fairy tales about a curse on magic or a magic curse, such as Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Rapunzel and Rumpelstiltskin. Often a curse against someone created by a cruel witch, or in many cases with the mythologies, there was a contest between men and gods, with men nearly always suffering for that challenge, such as King Minos and the minotaur, or King Midas, who was given a gift that became his curse. Oedipus Rex was another example of a terrible plague inflicted upon a people due to a crime that enraged the gods, and a balance of light and dark magic sounded very much like the ancient philosophies of yin and yang. Earth's own history of magicians included names like warlock, necromancer, for the darker forms of magic practice, or white witches versus those that practiced darker arts, such as summoning spirits. The Bible actually makes numerous mentions of necromancers and other such spiritualists. In some books of the New Testament there is mention of necromancers and other sorcerers burning valuable scrolls of spells and the like, when they heard the testimonies of the disciples of Christ.

He had also been taught in Religious Education that ghosts of purgatory and other spirits are evil and will attempt to trick and confuse those that attempt to summon them. So, when he found out firsthand that ghosts of Earth really do carry an evil curse, which he had felt that night at Bright, it had fascinated him ever since. He had also been told by a teacher at university some years later that the Catholic church had declared that purgatory no longer exists. This was something to which he had of course responded to, calling it, 'Ridiculous! Absurd! They'll have to reinstate it when I'm done.'

'Do you know how to send us back?' Carl asked. 'I have no magic other than a mortal man's flesh and my faith. I cannot oppose your Jinn-Fendinn. He would crush us. I'm sorry, but we cannot save you.'

Orion looked at their faces and seemed to be weighing each of their souls before he said, 'You are the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. You are the Chosen of the Great Prophecy known as the Ragnarök Cycle. You are the Blue Water Dragon, the Red Fire Lion, the Black Shadow Wolf, and the White Snow Fox.'

'Which one of us is the Dragon?' Wil asked, puffing out his chest.

'That shall be revealed by your actions,' Orion said. 'I can tell you that the Daughter of Thor is the White Fox. The Dragon is Prophesised to be the strongest of the Sons, though your Powers are connected and all three of you must be there to face Fendinn, in a war that will change our world forever.'

'You say Ragnarök is at least a thousand years away,' Adem said. 'We will not survive beyond eighty to a hundred years, and we will be very old and weak by then. We are mortal.' Orion rubbed his chin, before he said, 'That part has always been understood. There will be a Second Arrival. You will return to Earth in good time and you may spend years there getting back to your old lives, though you will never be the same.

'During that time, one thousand years will have passed in our world. Jinn-Fendinn's curse upon Teron-Magic will have corrupted the minds and souls of our most powerful warriors. Perhaps I will be one of them.'

'I need a cigarette,' Wil said as he took out his pack and lit up. Orion looked slightly startled when Wil produced his lighter and flame sprouted to light the cigarette. Orion shook his head and said, 'Smoking, yes, even some of the immortals are susceptible to its allure. Though we have learnt that too much of it can even destroy the innards of an immortal and bring about death over time.' Wil began to cough and bent down to extinguish the cigarette properly; putting it back in the packet. Adem wished he had his nicotine tablets.

And my medication.

'I have to get home today,' he said. 'I have a mental illness, and I take medicine to control its effects. If I stay here, I will lose my mind.' Jean took his hand and looked into his eyes with sympathy.

'Yes, the Sickness, it flows in all three of the Sons of Odin,' Orion said. 'In time you will begin to fall into madness and possibly become evil. This could be a part of the Prophecy that you shall break us. For the short term, we have Healers who are equipped at keeping your condition stable.'

'I usually take my healing at about four o'clock,' Adem said. Orion smiled broadly as he said, 'Climb aboard, and we shall travel to the keep on the island. My people are waiting for you, and from there, we shall travel to the heart of the Free Lands.'

Carl was first to climb into the large glowing golden craft that sat half in the water, half on the white sandy shore. There were no oars or paddles, but once they were all aboard and seated comfortably, the boat slid back into the water; made a turn and began to float towards the island.

The music and angelic voices continued, the male and female voices harmonizing and combating, hope and courage, pain and bliss. Sun and moon, thunder and lightning. Air and Earth; Fire and Ice; Spirits of the Shadow and the Light.

When they were halfway across the water, Adem turned to see two more immortals standing in the back of the boat. Both were as tall as Orion with sun-darkened skin, long dark hair, and large dark eyes. One had dark blue eyes, though the pupils were so large; they appeared black at first glance. They wore cloaks dark as shadows with large hoods falling around their shoulders, woollen coats of olive-green and brown camouflage that hung below the waist under thick brown leather belts. Their belt buckle sigil was of a sinuous Blue Dragon. They wore leather trousers of the same camouflage colours with lace up knee-high leather boots.

'Do not be alarmed,' Orion said. 'They are my bodyguards, my Aldebrands. Talegon and Kelflax are their names. Talegon is the one with the dark blue eyes. Their cloaks are enchanted and can turn the same colours as their immediate environment to hide them from the eyes of demons. They are visible now because they have allowed themselves to be seen by choice. The Illusion-Magic connects with the mind of the wearer, so they may control when they wish to hide. The cloaks are best suited for night or shade when they return to the dark shadow colours.'

Adem turned to look over his shoulder at Talegon and Kelflax again, and the golden hilts of their long swords rising above their waist belts; balanced by a quiver on the other hip. Long bows that looked to be made of marble on either side of the handle grips – one white-veined blue and the other black-veined red – stuck up above their right shoulders now that they were visible, with leather straps across their chests for the bow cases.

Orion continued to face the island as he spoke though his voice was loud and deep as he explained, 'Lukrorian Bows. They are wood encased at the grip in a layer of stone similar to the marble of your world. They are used by male wielders to unleash arrows of Fire-Magic.

'Terael-Magic can be used by female wielders to the same effect.'

'How many ... Lukrorian Bows do you have in Kismeria?' Adem asked.

'We have many, Son of Odin,' Orion replied. 'Why do you ask?'

Adem sat in deep thought for a time before he replied, 'I'm trying to get an idea of what kind of army we have on our side. What kinds of weapons do we have to face the goblins and Shadow Men and the Shadow Riders?'

'You have seen all of these things?' Orion asked with a slight turn of his head. 'You have been here before?'

'We had dreams and visions,' Adem explained. 'Only I think I did enter Kismeria for a short time in one of the visions. That is where I saw the goblin and the Shadow Rider. That night in my home when I turned out the light, I saw the Shadow Man.

'He said he had come for me to take me to the High-Jinn. I called on the Power of Christ, and the Shadow Man vanished in a blast of light and shadows. Who are they? The evil force I felt from that one was many times stronger than the Jinn-Magic we felt from the ghosts of our world.'

'I will tell you more of the Souljhin and the High-Servants when we arrive at the Nordic Kingdom,' Orion replied, sounding concerned. 'It is unwise to even speak of such beings, with so few warriors to protect us from the potential threat that they may appear out of the shadows and ambush us at any moment.'

The boat lurched on to the white sandy shore of the island with thick bright green grassland, flowing up the rising hillside to the feet of the dark grey stone tower. The singing continued as more immortals, both male and female, began to march down to the shore. Some carried flutes, harps or drums that they played while the others sang in their deep rich chants. 'My people are wielding an enchantment on the air to ward against evil following us to this place,' Orion explained.

They climbed out of the boat after King Orion stepped on to the shore. Adem made sure he helped Jean out of the boat before the tall handsome Talegon and Kelflax could offer her any assistance. 'Meet my wife, Queen Elmira Golden-Braid,' Orion said, as a very beautiful fair-skinned woman approached, with large clear blue eyes and shining golden hair, tied in a long thick braid that fell halfway down her tall slender figure. The braid was pulled down over her shoulder and nestled between her generous bosom as she reached out to Jean with jewelled fingers of rubies, diamonds, and emeralds on golden bands.

A gold necklace with snowflake-style patterns sparkled with more gems, above her dress of pale blue silk; low cut around the cleavage. She wore a snow white-hooded cloak of silk; silver and gold scrollwork worked around the edges.

'Welcome, Daughter of Thor,' Elmira said in a clear crisp harmonious tone. 'Welcome also, Sons of Odin.' Elmira said that last with a touch of animosity in her tone. Her big eyes seemed to stab holes in Adem's heart. Adem understood immediately that it must have been the Jinn-Magic he and his Brothers had brought to Kismeria.

He bowed very low to her as he said, 'My humblest apologies, Queen Elmira. We knew not what we would bring to your world. If I had known, I would have done everything in my power to avoid entering this world.'

Elmira smiled, almost warmly though the smile did not touch her eyes that seemed sympathetic and at the same time filled with loathing as she said, 'It is all a part of the Great Prophecy.'

He did not want to appear ignorant of their world, so he simply bowed deeply again and hoped his friends did the same. He took a quick peek over his shoulder to see them both rising from bowing too.

The music continued as they made their way up the hillside and entered the doorway to the stone tower. Within the first room, the cool shade washed over Adem's skin and brought a tingling sensation after the warm sunlight had baked his skin. He had taken his cap off to bow to Queen Elmira and he held it as they made their way up one of the stone staircases. Climbing to higher levels with Orion and Elmira leading the way.

A dozen or more male and female immortals followed behind Adem and his friends. The remaining two dozen stood outside to finish the chant that was fading as they made their way up the staircase with a waist-high stone railing. Tapestries of warriors doing battle with demons decorated some of the walls, on levels where the staircase levelled out.

Finally, they arrived at a large level with a floor that must have stretched from wall to wall with another staircase leading to higher levels. On this floor stood a rectangular grey stone slab divided down the centre into two doors of stone. Carvings of angels flying through clouds covered the top half of the stone doors and demons writhed in pits of fire at the base. The carvings rose out of the stone and were the work of a master sculptor, though Adem suspected the doors had been crafted using Angel-Magic.

'That is the Portal,' Orion explained when he noticed Adem and his friends staring at the strange doors. 'It is called a Travelling Gate or the Portal Gates. Now, it is time for your gifts.' Immortal men and women then began opening many of the large brass bound dark wooden chests that were spread around the large room, some using golden keys to unlock the chests.

The room was lit by rectangular lanterns attached to the stone walls; light appearing to be a ball of fire within the glass without candle or wick. Next the immortals began dragging out cloaks, clothing, armour, and weapons. 'Aldebrand cloaks and toramor armour for the Sons of Odin,' Orion said. 'Toramor cuirass and breastplates are enchanted with Fire-Magic and Earth-Magic, and can withstand strikes from regular steel blades, including large demon weapons. It will never weaken, but some enchanted weapons will be able to penetrate the armour.'

The immortals then handed Adem and his friends each a large hooded cloak that seemed to be made of shadows, while others held gleaming cuirass and breastplates of bright colours.

'I'll take the crimson armour,' Adem said. All three sets of breastplate-armour had serpentine dragons scrawled across both sides of the chest. The armour had backplates also, and before they tried it on, other immortals provided them with clothing. Long woollen coats, dark leather trousers, and knee-high brown leather boots. Adem was handed a red coat with gold and silver dragons wound about the sleeves.

The yellow and blue coats his friends were given also had dragons of the same coloured stitching. Carl took the blue coat and dark blue shining armour with black dragons across the chest. Wil took the yellow coat and golden armour with white dragons.

When they were dressed in thick brown leather belts and sword belts over their buttoned-up coats that hung beneath their armour, they were provided weapons. A golden glowing axe with a double half-moon blade was gifted to Wil. A pure gold spear that glowed incandescent red—and was light as a wooden staff and well balanced—was gifted to Carl and a long sword with a golden hilt was gifted to Adem in a black polished scabbard. A serpentine dragon was scrawled in silver and gold upon both the scabbard and the blade itself, which was a double-edged straight sword. He was also gifted a buckler that looked steel plated in rings of red and blue, though was lighter than leather and wood and said to be forged of toramor.

'These three weapons have been chosen for the three Sons of Odin by three of the four Immortal Kings. They are enchanted not only with a mixture of teron and terael, but they are also the Resting Points for three Great Angels.

'These Great Angels reside in your weapons as we speak. There they wait and recharge their spirits, drawing from a combination of three sources. The first is the combined energies of teron and terael that enchant the weapons. The second is the energies that flow through each of you. Your life forces feed their Angel-Magic. The third source of their Angel-Magic is fed through the energy source known as ki'mera.

'Ki'mera is the life force of all demons within Kismeria. When a demon is defeated using Angel-Magic, or these weapons, the defeated demon spirit will rise as a floating energy source that will be drawn to, and consumed by, your enchanted weapons.

'That energy source will feed and enhance the Magic of those Angels who reside in your Resting Points. The more ki'mera you obtain, the stronger your Great Angels will become and the stronger their attacks shall be, providing you with even more ki'mera.

'Be warned that you should only summon these Angels in time of great need. They will consume ki'mera quickly, and they will require rest even after obtaining fresh stores of ki'mera.

'In time your ki'mera levels stored will also increase your own strengths in wielding teron. This will also allow you to enhance the Angel-Magic of your weapons with assistance from your Battle Angels.'

Three more male immortals—in darkly coloured silk robes with the dark hair and dark eyes of the Torvellen—brought forward three of the wooden bows with a marble looking panel on either side of the handle-grips. Adem was gifted a blue bow with black veins. The bows came with large leather cases that could be slung over their backs, under their cloaks, with leather straps across their chests.

Adem and his friends were equipped with the bows after they put on their Aldebrand cloaks that Adem noticed blending with the grey stone walls. Carl was gifted a red bow with black veins, and Wil's was golden-yellow with white. In the centre of the strings was a small gemstone encased within a golden band.

Adem's gemstone was blue, and when he tested the bow by drawing back the string—as suddenly again the pure magnificence of Angel-Magic burned within his soul, along with the foulness of Jinn-Magic corroding his bones—he saw that an arrow of blinding blue light appeared in the darkness of the room. He gasped in elation and disgust conflicting his senses and emotions from the raw energies of darkness and light pulsing through his being. Carl's produced a shaft of red flame and Wil's was a golden arrow. They allowed the strings to retract slowly to avoid letting the arrows loose in the room, though they had aimed the bows pointed to the floor. Adem turned to see Jean was being gifted a jade-green bow with blue veins, that she used to wield an emerald arrow. He could see the state of ecstasy felt by Jean when she touched terael, it was clearly pure and nothing like the Jinn-Magic now felt by all male wielders.

Female immortals helped her dress, and she wore a dark green silk skirt with lace up knee-high emerald boots, dark blue leather trousers beneath the skirt, and an emerald-green woollen coat with white foxes on the sleeves. Embroidered with silver and gold edging along the cuffs and hem of her skirt.

They had tied her hair in a long golden braid with an emerald hair tie, and she wore a gold-hilted long sword in an emerald scabbard. The blade was very thin and apparently quite light due to enchantment, despite it being very long, almost touching the ground when she walked.

Adem overheard Elmira explaining to Jean that her bow was a Resting Point for the Battle Angel, Tanriel; a powerful female Great Angel. Carl's spear was the Resting Point for Math Mathonwy. Wil's golden axe was a Resting Point for Eledisren, a powerful male Battle Angel. Adem was told that he carried the spirit of Arawn in his sword, a Battle Angel of the Underworld. Carl's Battle Angel was also from the Underworld and was said to wield the Hellfire Spear that he used to unleash the Hounds of Hell. They were warned not to summon the Angels as it may deplete their stored ki'mera levels that had been built up by immortals wielding the weapons for many years.

Orion explained that Underworld Angels have never been infected with the Magic of Jinn-Fendinn, only connected to it like a bridge connects two separate pieces of land across air or water, though the two pieces of land remain separate. 'Only now that the three Sons have arrived does Jinn-Magic truly flow through Arawn, Eledisren, and Math Mathonwy.'

They were all also dressed in a mail coif of silver rings forged of toramor, light as a feather, to protect their heads and shoulders, and each wore a toramor hauberk under their body armour that was also weightless. Each were also gifted a helmet of toramor to match their body armour; dragon wings rising at the temples.

Chapter 4

The Travelling Gates

When they were suited up and equipped, Orion said to Adem, 'Now you are ready for your Healing-Magic, Adem Highlander.' A slender immortal woman with long silken dark hair falling to her waist, in a crimson silk gown and red cloak, made her way to stand in front of Adem. Laying her hands on either side of his head around the temples with her fingers almost touching over his skull.

'Hold still, Adem Highlander,' the woman said. Her large dark Torvellen eyes seeming to drink in a part of his soul, during the time she described as the Seeking, where she searched for his illnesses and how best to Heal him. She made note of his groin injury.

Lira Tolnock was her name. Lira said she could do a little to ease the pain of that injury though it was too old for her to Heal completely. His mental illness; that she described as the Darkness, or the Sickness, she explained was also something she could do little about in terms of repair or cure. She explained that she could relieve some of his symptoms, though this was something that would need to be done daily to ensure the Sickness did not spread through his mind too quickly.

Lira finally began the Healing-Magic – a bolt of lightning cold as ice surged through his flesh and bones, filling his soul, drenching his mind. He shivered, then trembled, then convulsed, and had to fight to resist flailing his arms that shook silently at his sides with his fists clenched. His eyes were fluttering and rolling up into his skull before she released him, and Angel-Magic ceased to flow through his veins.

The feeling was similar to when he had drawn the arrow of flame, rivers of lava and avalanches of ice flowing through his veins; only the Healing-Magic was just ice without the fire. The sense of teron flowing through him had heightened his senses for those brief moments, the shaft of flame glowing as if it contained the energy of the sun.

Teron was like the sensation of praying or meditating and being close to the Creator, in those prayers, whether that be God or Buddha, Allah or Yahweh or any of the deities you have faith in. Feeling a warm glow enter your heart and fill you with peace, contentment, and bliss. Only Angel-Magic flowing through you was a hundred times stronger, even wielding such a small amount.

When he reached for the bow, Orion began to explain, 'You must not draw too much Angel-Magic. There is a danger you will exhaust your ability to wield teron.

'This would greatly alter the fate of Kismeria. Our Alit'aren and Ael Tarael shall teach you to draw from Angel-Magic without exhausting your ability. Your Battle Angels also increase the amount you can draw from teron.

'So long as you carry your Resting Point weapons, your ability to wield will increase the more you obtain ki'mera from defeated demons. When you acquire new Battle Angels, you may create new Resting Points. Your Lukrorian Bows are potential Resting Points.

'We must use the Travelling Gate to journey to Nordhel.' Orion then made his way to the stone doors of the Travelling Gate, wielding a ball of blue fire that glowed above his open hand. The light reflected off the stone carvings until the light began to glow within the stone, as if Angel-Magic flowed through it. With a loud crackling groan, the doors swung outwards to reveal a blue-white glow within.

When the doors were half open, Adem could see his reflection in the mirror-like surface that glowed within, though he could see no other reflection, not even the reflection of the stone room and chests. He stood some distance from the doors and the mirror of light, though he could see his entire reflection despite Orion and Elmira standing in front of him, and they should have blocked the path of his image to the mirror surface.

A dozen of the Aldebrand Immortals leapt through the thick glistening gel that formed the surface of the Gate. As they passed through the thick membrane, their images faded into the bright light that glowed within. Next many female immortals, some of who Adem guessed were Ael Tarael, walked into the gel, with over a dozen black-coated male immortals who Orion explained were Alit'aren, men who could wield.

Orion and Elmira followed next after the two dozen or more male and female immortals; those that ascended to their level after finishing their chanting wards. Finally, all that remained in the room were Adem, Carl, Wil, and Jean with Talegon and Kelflax waiting to enter last.

'Do not fear our Portal-Magic,' Talegon said. 'Jinn-Magic is newly made and will not bring harm to those that pass through.' Adem stepped through first, the gel-like liquid cold against his skin, like sliding through thick water that left no stain or wetness on his clothing or skin—Darkness surrounded him like an ominous cloud, until light exploded outwards all around him. First as glowing filaments of energy moving out in a cosmic spray. Then the darkness itself was enveloped in brightness as he experienced the sensation of a great shift, as if he were suddenly moving very fast through space without taking a single step—and the next moment he was stepping out on to a field of dark cracked clay with some lava forming rivers through the soil. He gazed upon his surroundings with some caution, for although he did not fear that these people had betrayed him, he immediately knew the Portal-Spell had not taken them to their desired location, suggesting further destructive forces at work. The new arrival of Jinn-Magic on teron seemed the first and most likely explanation.

What he saw before him was a barren wasteland for miles in every direction. Mostly flatlands of dark cracked soil with rivers of lava flowing and bubbling in small pools of orange magma. The sky was a cataclysm of wild magic with crimson lightning and dark clouds swirling through the heavens, as if in eternal torment from the manipulations of Fendinn. Thunder boomed. He looked about hesitantly in fear of the presence of demons or goblins that he already knew inhabited these regions.

The other immortals, over sixty men and women in total, were gathered around the doorway to the Travelling Gate. When he turned back to the glowing surface that was now mixed with shadows, he saw Jean sliding outwards from the gel wall. Carl and Wil followed-after, exiting together with the two Immortal Aldebrands following.

Adem looked to the sky to see the dark storm clouds surging with sideways blasting crimson bolts for miles in every direction, as if the presence of the Sons and Daughter had invoked a dark magic upon the earth and sky. Lava pools also sprayed and erupted with greater vehemence. Forked lightning fell more frequently, as a strong wind sprayed rain across his face.

'Something is very wrong,' Orion said in a loud voice, as he turned to face Adem. 'The Travelling Gate has taken us to the East Lands. These lands are swarming with enemies. We tried to pass back through the Gate, but it was firm against our flesh and no longer a yielding gel.

'We must find wild altherin horses to take us to Nordhel. Altherin are immortal horses. They often run wild in these lands to taunt the Rahkwel and Shadow Riders. I could not have foreseen this Adem Highlander ... forgive my mistake.'

'It is not your fault but my own,' Adem replied in attempts to be heard over the roaring wind. 'What are Rahkwel?'

'Goblins,' Orion said. 'You will see for yourself soon enough. Was the one you saw tall or short?'

'Short!' Adem replied. 'Like a dwarf?'

'That is a Grimwel,' Orion said. 'Rakhwel can stand up to seven feet tall.' Adem resisted the urge to curse. Wil must have overheard because he did not resist the urge to curse, loudly. 'The Ael Tarael are doing their best to summon the altherin horses,' Orion said; pointing to strands of light shooting up into the clouds from the fingertips of three immortal women standing some distance ahead.

Three huge black stone mountains capped with white peaks stood in the distance, and large boulders were scattered across the dark land. The only trees he saw were stunted black leafless things that looked to be twisted by Fendinn's Jinn-Magic.

There were occasional tufts of fresh green growth that he assumed was all the altherin horses would have to eat in these East Lands. The strands of light were touching a group of the dark clouds above, turning them to a silvery incandescent glow. 'The light will guide the altherin to us,' Orion said. 'The Aldebrands will use their horns to signal our position. The clouds of light and the horns will also draw any Rahkwel and other demons nearby.

'Rest assured we shall protect you, Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor.'

Moments later, Talegon and Kelflax raised curved red and gold horns that released a deep echoing call. Jean stood beside Adem and looked in his eyes with real fear. He tried to smile as he took her hand and squeezed lightly before letting go.

Jean pulled her Lukrorian Bow from her shoulder case and pulled back gently on the string to produce a bright arrow of emerald Fire-Magic as she said, 'It will be an honour to fight at your side, Adem Highlander.'

'The honour is all mine, Jean Fairsythe,' he said. He then reached over his shoulder to draw his blue bow. He eased back the string to draw an arrow of bright blue flames.

Teron flooded his veins. Lightning and snow. Lava. Ice. He shivered at the rush of heat and cold that flowed through him. Angel-Magic was a wellspring of light, Jinn-Magic bursting through that spring, like maggot-infested shadows. He wanted to laugh with the glow of Angel-Magic. He wanted to vomit from the corruption of Jinn-Magic. As he drew the bow string back further, the arrow of flame shone brighter. He felt himself drawing more Angel-Magic that flowed into the enchanted weapon. He could sense his connection with his Battle Angel also. The Great Spirit seemed to be dreaming within the Resting Point of the sword that hung at his hip. Like a child in the womb. Only the Battle Angel's mind was a part of Adem's awareness, now that he held on to Angel-Magic.

He sensed great knowledge and great power in that connection. A connection to a being similar to the male ghost of Bright, only infinitely stronger in Angel-Magic and the Jinn-Magic that radiated from its spirit. He felt that the Battle Angel was giving him greeting with that connection.

He was certain Jean's Battle Angel would be giving her a similar greeting as she held on to the arrow of flame. The horns sounded again and again as the light in the clouds above grew brighter. Ten minutes or more passed, and then another horn sounded in the distance, over the rise to the east.

'It is a Rahkwel horn,' Orion spoke with grave concern. 'I will tell you when to summon your Battle Angels.'

'How do we summon them?' Adem asked.

'They will tell you in your mind,' Orion shouted.

'I know!' Jean cried. 'Tanriel has told me; a message from her mind to mine. It requires Angel-Magic. You will understand when you hold your enchanted blade, Adem.'

'Do not draw it yet.' Orion said. 'Use the Lukrorian Bow for long-range attacks. Hold the fully drawn arrows longer for increased power in your attacks. Control the amount of teron you allow to flow into each arrow.'

Adem turned to see Carl and Wil were holding their enchanted bows; drawing back gently on the strings to wield arrows of red and gold flames. The Rahkwel horns sounded again, a mile or two to the east. Bloodthirsty cries of evil humanoids filled the air as Adem saw hundreds of the seven-feet-tall goblin creatures topping the rise a half mile off.

The Rahkwel were olive-green-skinned with large oval eyes that glowed like lanterns. Their ears were pointed like the immortals, and their noses were long and crooked. Most wore dark leathers and brown boots; grey or black armour of overlapping plates down the chest and abdomen. Some wore greaves and leather or metal gauntlets of black, brown, or green. Most had large dark green coats and hoods of wool and many wore conical steel helmets of black, green, or silver with batwing-metal-ears rising from the sides.

They carried large wooden bows over their shoulders of black or brown in leather cases with straps across their chests. A sword and quiver balanced at their waist belts. Some carried long swords of curved black metal, others wielded dark axes of half-moon blades balanced by a spike. Others carried long black metal spears.

Hundreds poured over the rise and sprinted down towards Adem and the immortals. Adem drew back the strings of the bow till the shaft of fire glowed blinding-blue, then released. The arrow rocketed towards the top of the hillside. When it landed in the thick of the Rahkwel ranks, earth and stone exploded in a crash-like thunder. Over a dozen of the tall-armoured demons were thrown left and right, some with arms or legs torn off and bleeding from the stumps.

He saw that clearly even at such a distance while he held on to teron. Blistering fire and ice flowed through him. Warming his soul and freezing his flesh and bones. Filth corrupting the precious light like rotting shadow-moths. Jean released an arrow of emerald fire that lanced into the Rahkwel ranks, spraying demons and dirt into the air to similar effect. Carl and Wil stood flanking either side of Adem and Jean, and they unleashed their arrows to create more explosions amongst the Rahkwel ranks.

A dozen or more Aldebrands joined the onslaught with their bows firing with the lightning speed of immortal kin, their movements a blur as they drew back the string and released. Waves of energy bolts launched upon the goblin ranks to shatter flesh and bone, burning bodies to cinders and stripping flesh from skeletons that collapsed into smoking husks. The force of their Elemental Attacks was much stronger than the Sons and Daughter also, each blast smashing an entire line of enemies on impact that sent body parts flying in spurts of dark blood.

Then Orion shouted, 'Alit'aren! – Unleash Fire Serpents!' Lightning bolts thick as gigantic blue pythons launched down from the sky to plummet into the front ranks of Rahkwel that were now only several hundred feet away from Adem and his friends. Adem looked closely at the blue lightning as it crashed to earth and spread outwards through the demon ranks like live serpents, and he saw clearly that the bolts of blue fire were indeed the spirits of giant snakes.

Elmira shouted in her clear high tones, 'Ael Tarael! – Unleash Fire Leopards!' Rings of golden-orange flames exploded into the air surrounding the charging ranks of Rahkwel. The initial blast sent demons flying into the air in torn and broken pieces. Then the fire became the forms of large golden-orange cats that charged through the Rahkwel ranks setting demon flesh to flame. The Leopards pushed Rahkwel to the earth to bite off skulls and shred through torsos. Dark blood flowed as limbs were torn free in the jaws of the massive beasts. They moved like lightning as they ploughed through enemy ranks to tear down screaming victims in a bloodbath of anarchy. Roaring amidst the thunder that boomed through the heavens with a sudden increase in the lightning storm of pythons.

Within seconds, the first three hundred Rahkwel were halted in their tracks and died in balls of orange and blue fire. No sooner had the first ranks fallen and died did more horns sound. Over a thousand of the goblin creatures appeared in a line over the hilltop. The first thousand Rahkwel charged forwards while another three hundred appeared at the top of the rise with bows raised and arrows drawn. As they drew back tightly on their bowstrings, Orion shouted to Adem and Jean, 'Summon your Battle Angels!'

The first waves of arrows were released and flying towards Adem and his friends before he could draw his sword. In his state of panic, he drew the blade with his right hand while still holding his bow with his left. Jean's Resting Point was the Lukrorian Bow she held however, and her instincts must have told her instantly how to summon her Battle Angel. She looked skyward and cried, 'Tanriel!'

A wave of emerald light like a great shield of fire exploded outwards from Jean's form towards the falling arrows. The arrows flashed and flared in golden-green light before each was vanquished by the shield of flames. Above Jean's form a swirling force of colourful light traced the form of a six-feet-tall woman that morphed into being; wings of blue light fanning from her shoulders. At that astonishing sight, Adem also sensed a raw emanation of energy flowing from the female figure, though it was foreign to him, supposedly because it was the female Power. Terael. Yet he could detect its presence along with a great thrill of elation that swept over him. It was overwhelming; gifting a sudden spurt of energy and new-found courage.

The figure – Tanriel – wore armour of crimson plates; glowing incandescent over a blue burning robe that shone like pale silk. With golden-silver scrollwork upon the hem and sleeves, red horizontal panels glowed across her thighs. Her gauntlets were crimson gold; her skin had the quality of pure transparent blue-white light. Incandescent golden hair was tied back in a braid, and when the Battle Angel turned for a moment to look down at Adem, he saw Tanriel had large blue eyes that shone with an inner light. She was beautiful too, for a creature made of fire. From that glance Adem also sensed great love from this supernatural being. Love for him, but also for Jean, Carl and Wil. A shared emotion that filled his heart with joy like a wellspring of burning brilliance.

The Battle Angel hovered ten feet above Jean for that moment; then launched over twenty feet higher into the sky like a rocket. A spear of red lightning appeared in her grasp, though, when she unleashed the spear—that crackled with crimson bolts in her fist—a dozen of the incandescent shafts fell and struck the earth within the demon ranks.

Fire exploded outwards in sheets – yellow-orange Angel-Fire that roared with fury – blasting Rahkwel into dust and smoke, torn flesh and large spurts of dark blood. The Rahkwel screamed in terror. The flames were a form of destruction beyond imagining. It seemed that flesh, bone and armour were turned to vapour where the fire was most concentrated and strongest. Bodies were blasted, melted and obliterated in a massacre of incinerating might. The sound of those flames reminded Adem of a dragon's roar.

As the demons were vanquished, Adem noticed the balls of coloured flames – some small as a fist though others as large as a pumpkin – of red, yellow, blue, and green floating upwards through the air from the vanquished bodies of the Rahkwel.

The first wave of floating lights had been consumed by the immortals as they were the ones to defeat most of the demons in the first attack. There had been so much fire thrown around he had not noticed it properly until now. The balls of light flew towards Jean, so fast it almost blurred in his vision, and the light was consumed by Jean's Lukrorian Bow. Adem realised this must have been the ki'mera energy the defeated demon spirits released.

As a wave of the ki'mera was absorbed by Jean, Adem saw Tanriel throw twenty of those crimson spears. Unleashing fire that shot out twice the length and ferocity turning Rahkwel flesh to vapour. Blasting bodies into smoking piles of ash. This time it was the Rahkwel archers at the top of the rise she had unleashed her attacks upon, and the enemies there were destroyed in one swift stroke.

In these brief moments, Adem had also understood how to summon Arawn, his Battle Angel. Arawn explained to his mind exactly how the summoning was performed using teron to release them from their Resting Points. Instinct told him the rest as he faced charging Rahkwel and shouted, 'Arawn!'

A burst of red fire filled Adem's vision—swirls of crimson energy that rose and flowed into being before his eyes as they began to take the shape of four legged beasts— becoming twelve charging Fire Lions! The beasts filled the air with a deafening roar as they crashed into the front lines of Rahkwel setting flesh and armour to flames. The Lions also chose their victims with a bloodthirsty vengeance. Pushing bodies to the ground to shred through flesh and bone with burning teeth and claws. When those teeth or claws tore through flesh and bone, they left a wave of burning red that melted flesh from their dying enemies that screamed in terrified anguish.

Then out of the spreading yellow orange flames a flowing, floating unnatural source of darkness took shape, to morph into a spectre of shadows standing ten-feet-tall. The male figure's dark cloak seemed to drink in the light with hungry fervour—as Adem sensed great woe and disharmony from this spirit. Carnage and vehemence, and perhaps also a part of that horrid corruption upon the Angel-Magic, yet again he sensed deep emotion transferred from this Battle Angel to Adem's soul. A feeling of Brotherhood, from a mighty companion who would serve willingly as his protector—a silver sword hilt of two feet of steel rising from its shoulders as the shadow form stood like a small tower of dominance. Ready to inflict the force of his will over the threat that lay before them, radiating a force similar to the Shadow Men. It seemed this force was less intimidating to Adem and his friends—although felt—as if that force was being aimed at the Rahkwel hordes. Evil to frighten evil.

The Battle Angel, Arawn, drew the seven-foot-long steel broadsword from its ebony scabbard in a flare of brilliance. Blade burning blood red like the Fires of Jinn-Fendinn's Soul! Arawn's sword swung wildly; severing Rahkwel skulls from their shoulders, tearing off arms and legs, cutting whole demons in two. As the blade tore through demon flesh, more Fire Lions launched outwards from the Angel-Fire of the blade. Biting off skulls in dark sprays; their roars filled the air amidst a stronger rumble of thunder in the skies.

As the Lions crashed through enemy lines, the flames from their bodies exploded outwards in circular sheets to blast demon bodies into charred chunks and piles. A rupture of energy to tear through flesh and bone that took down dozens of goblins with every pounce. Paws pounding the earth leaving prints of burning light.

Ki'mera orbs began flying towards Adem also to be absorbed by his sword. As they were absorbed, he felt them recharge Arawn's attacks. He also felt Jinn-Magic of evil from those demon souls. He wondered how this had never infected their Great Angels with Jinn-Magic in all their tens of thousands of years of history, or however long they had existed.

He also felt something wonderful happen then; Arawn and Tanriel became linked in their attacks. When this happened, Adem could sense Jean; he could sense her mind, her fear, and her excitement. Being joined to her in that way was beyond his imaginings, though he knew part of her fear was that she could sense Jinn-Magic on the male half of Angel-Magic that flowed through his veins.

Adem saw that Arawn wore a silver human skull mask worked with black runes; his eyes were large caverns of endless yellow-orange flames. The Battle Angel's hair was shadows tied back with a silver ring worked with black runes, gauntlets of black runes on steel. His armour was black overlapping plates down the chest and abdomen, like the scales of a snake. A large silver human skull embossed upon the chest.

Adem thought he was terrifying and magnificent!

The Link between the two Battle Angels increased the strength of their attacks. Lightning bolts thick as pythons blasted out sideways in all directions from the spears to mix with the fire. Lightning also exploded from the forms of the Fire Lions. The scale of their massacre was suddenly increased tenfold. Energies unleashed by the Battle Angels built to a crescendo. Elemental Magic exploding with extreme force as demons screamed in terror.

Ki'mera orbs flowed like a river of light through the air from the dark sea of bodies that were piled high as hundreds more Rahkwel continued to charge down the hillside. The immortals appeared to be resting at this point, and they also appeared to be watching in awe of the display.

Finally, Adem heard the call of dozens of horses, followed by the cheers of the immortals. White, black, and dark brown horses charged towards them from the west, moving with such speed they appeared blurred like phantoms. Some had the look of Mustangs; others were built like Clydesdales and some even looked similar to a Caspian or even Mongolian horse, though most had the sleek muscular builds more attributed to Thoroughbreds. Large eyes filled with kindness. No matter how they looked, all moved with a speed that was supernatural, charging across the landscape in a gliding, flowing manner. Adem breathed a sigh of relief, but he was also spellbound by the grand nature of these beings, their rescuers. They were a sign of hope in this desolate place.

The dozen or more Aldebrands were still picking off the outside straggler Rahkwel with their bows, sending explosive arrows of coloured flames flying into their dark-armoured packs. Skulls and limbs were blasted through the air as ruined corpses collapsed or were torn apart in bursts of dark blood. Carl and Wil still stood to either side of Adem and Jean using their bows, their attacks growing stronger each time they released an arrow of flame. An explosion that took out ten Rahkwel, then fifteen, and then twenty. The last two must have taken out fifty each before Orion shouted, 'Carl Wilder! Wil Martyr! Summon your Battle Angels!'

Carl and Wil flipped their bows back over their shoulders to slide them into the cases as if they were born to it. Then Wil drew his golden axe from his belt loop, and Carl lifted his spear from the sliding harness that held it to the back of his bow case.

Wil shouted, 'Eledisren!' A murder of black crows swarmed out of the air above Wil's head; they seemed to be born from the air only inches above his skull, over fifty of them. The crows were made of shadows; red-gold fire wreathed the tips of their wings. Eyes glowing blood red.

The birds flocked together as they dived to the earth with a shuddering force of impact, to take the form of a ten-feet-tall figure in a long-hooded cloak of shadows, long thick shadow locks of hair falling around a wide muscular face with large dark eyes that looked to be filled with either sadness or hate. That same force as Arawn's emanated from the massive figure, a purely unnatural sense of foreboding and ill will permeated the very air. Strangely this again seemed to boost the courage of Adem and his friends.

The same black scale-like armour covered his chest with shadow sleeves, trousers, and boots. A necklace of silver monkey skulls hung against his wide chest. He saw these features in the brief moment the huge figure turned to regard Wil and his friends. With a black gauntleted fist, Eledisren – or Dis Pater – drew a massive double half-moon bladed axe of golden light that he used to hack into the front lines of the charging Rahkwel bodies.

Dis Pater was a wrecking force as he tore through demon bodies with mad vehemence, blood and bones flying in his wake as he roared like some demigod Viking, a deep booming war cry that sent shockwaves through the enemy ranks. Demons halting in terror before they were cut into pieces.

Seven-feet-tall goblins went flying through the air wherever Dis Pater's swinging battle-axe was seen glowing with electric light. Limbs and skulls flying with sprays of dark blood—as the blade sliced through armoured bodies as if they were made of tinfoil and butter—with a golden orange flame spreading from every swipe that melted demon bodies; falling as smoking skeletons.

The Flame Crows moved to the air again to swoop upon the demons with another earth shuddering force, crushing demon flesh and bones; flames burning bodies to smoking corpses. The caws of the Crows joined with the roar of Lions. The birds swooped again to peck at eyes and faces in a feeding frenzy. Tearing down victims. Plucking out eyeballs to devour them in snapping blood filled beaks.

Almost at the same moment that Wil had summoned Eledisren, Carl shouted, 'Math Mathonwy!' Twelve Shadow Hounds, all the size of large ponies with dark shadow skin, charged out of Carl's form to race towards the front lines of Rahkwel. The black beasts had teeth and claws that looked to be made from steel and flames occasionally danced across their shadow flesh. Hellhounds gave ferocious snarls and barks as they ploughed into the Rahkwel forces. Biting heads clean off and cutting bodies in half with massive razor-sharp claws. Their savage war cry was almost deafening, the howls of creatures of shadows and death.

From the bodies of the Shadow Hounds rose an eight-feet-tall figure in a blood red cape of fire. The cape appeared first as if some crimson demon wraith had swept onto the field; shadows and light that traced the rest of the Battle Angel's form into being. The figure wielded a massive red spear that was used like a quarterstaff to swing left and right. Slicing through demon flesh, splitting or decapitating demon skulls; releasing a brilliant red fire that spread through the demon ranks.

Adem saw that Math Mathonwy wore glowing golden armour in overlapping plates; shadows formed his trousers, boots, and coat with gauntlets of burning gold. His face was that of a bearded man with blazing white eyes, his skin made of a blue-white glow. A conical helmet formed of golden light with eagle wings on both sides. His long flowing beard was golden flame, and this third male spirit added his force of dominance to the environment. A promise of deadly carnage bleeding through space and time that was both unsettling and invigorating to behold.

Math Mathonwy soon joined his Brothers on the battlefield, three enormous figures bathing the earth in blood; hacking through flesh and bone with unrelenting skill and speed. The sense of terror amongst their victims began to build in shrieks and screams. Bodies falling like burst sacks of grain, spilling out flows of dark blood with limbs and skulls flying. The crimson sword, and spear, and axe of gold, began to emanate an ominous force of energies that sprayed upon their enemies in shockwaves. Blasting through armour to tear gaping wounds of burning light the size of cannon balls.

Then suddenly, Adem felt the four Battle Angels begin to Link together for one final attack. The altherin horses were close now, which Adem guessed was the first reason Orion had told Carl and Wil to summon their Battle Angels. The second reason he guessed was what appeared at the top of the rise to the east. More than three thousand Rahkwel began charging down the hillside with other creatures that seemed to be formed completely of shadows. With sharp fang-shaped eyes of red flames—demons Adem recognized from his first visions of this world—the creatures had dark bull's or ram's horns on black ram skulls. Their fangs and claws were razor sharp.

There were hundreds of the creatures within the ranks; some wore glowing crimson armour and carried dark spears and shields. They were also as tall as the Rahkwel. There was that now familiar force of evil radiating from the demons also, though not as strong as a single Shadow Rider. Their bulk created an overwhelming sense of dread amongst the Saviours and the immortal kin. Orion held his glowing amber blade high and roared in defiance against the Magic of Jinn-Fendinn.

Adem sensed a link between Orion and his wife, Elmira, as the Immortal King and Queen began to wield a vast source of Angel-Magic, detectable only in teron for Adem. But he also guessed Elmira was involved. A swarm of blazing blue bolts fell to strike the demon horde like desperate claws of light. From these claws spread burning orange Leopards that gorged on goblin flesh and blood as shockwaves of energy blasted the enemy twelve ranks deep.

A second swarm of Elemental Magic began to fly from Elmira's fingertips, first in the shape of pure blue burning spheres; that took the form of winged fairies of light as they took flight. The sprites moving with lightning speed to hammer into the enemy ranks, blasting bodies apart in a bloody massacre.

At the same time the earth heaved under the goblin and demon horde. Great chasms split beneath them. Bodies fell into their gaping depths. Walls of crimson flame sprayed in fountains that raced across the soil to vaporize flesh and bone, leaving smoking piles of ash.

As the remaining demon army approached, the altherin horses charged and flowed into their view – over ninety horses in the herd – between Adem and his friends and the Rahkwel forces. The horses skidded to a halt, their phantom images becoming flesh as they slowed enough for his eyes to rest upon their forms. Up close they were unique compared to any other horse he had ever seen. With a deep cut to their muscles, a pride to their eyes and a grace of movement that spoke of an enchanted species.

They had no saddles or harness, nothing to grab on to but their manes. Still, a horse moved to each potential rider and bowed their heads as if to offer Adem and his friends to climb on to their backs. This all happened in the few seconds while the four Battle Angels began to Link. Adem grasped the mane of a tall muscular black stallion and pulled himself up on to its back.

Jean mounted a white mare, and Carl and Wil climbed on to dark brown stallions. The horses halted for a few brief moments. Whether it was to watch the display by the Battle Angels or whether they were taunting the Rahkwel as they neighed in proud horse chant as they rose up on their hind legs, Adem did not know. Though, Adem and his friends were watching the Battle Angels.

Adem felt the Fire-Magic of the three male Battle Angels in his mind, three Brothers of the Underworld combining their Dark Powers with Angel-Magic of an Angel of the High Realm. They were four Old Friends, old as the wind and rain, old as Father Time, a hundred thousand years old – No! A million years! No! A hundred million years! No! They were older than the Age of the Great Dragons!

Ancient beings forged of the Five Magics – Fire, Water, Earth, Air, and Spirit! Ancient beyond imagining! Since the Dawn of Ages, these Great Angels had worked together to fight the Demon Armies that had plagued Kismeria.

Visions flashed through his mind of these Great Angels in those ancient days. They were ten times as large, and they walked on the clouds, throwing down fire and lightning to destroy the demons that walked the earth. He sensed his friends' minds also, their fears, their anticipation; he knew they saw the same visions through the Link. His mind fought the visions to return to the present.

Clouds swirled over the demon army. Dark grey clouds that became a whirlpool vortex strong enough to lift some of the demons high into the sky as the vortex became a tornado. Tanriel hovered at the peak of that storm where blue lightning bolts fell a dozen at a time. The finger of the tornado reached down to the earth as massive wings formed on the backs of the three male Battle Angels. Math Mathonwy's wings were red flames. Arawn's were black shadows. Dis Pater's were golden light.

The three male Battle Angels were swept up into the tornado. The cloud vortex growing wider until it hovered above the swarming demon army that again must have numbered over three thousand. Lightning fell from the clouds, red lightning, blue lightning, and golden, crimson, emerald lightning; then in a flickering magnificence—that turned the darkness of this land into the light of a bright sunlit day—it seemed that perhaps more lightning bolts fell than there were demons on the field below. A crack of thunder filled the heavens that sounded like the roar of Odin's Awakening!

In the next instant, the three male Battle Angels swept back down on to the earth breaking off in three directions through the heart of the demon army – the clouds of the tornado sweeping down with them to spread across the earth in the wake of the Great Angels – Math Mathonwy unleashing a hundred Shadow Hounds, Dis Pater releasing a murder of Crows that must have numbered over three hundred, and Arawn releasing over fifty Fire Lions!

Rahkwel and other demons continued to pour down the hillside, but they seemed to freeze in terror of this attack when they witnessed its might. The three male Battle Angels in the thick of the battle wielding their massive enchanted weapons to drive the demons into retreat. Tanriel threw down a hundred red spears that released blasts of fire and lightning; spreading sideways as long and as deep as the demon army itself.

Flame Crows smashed into the earth with a deafening shudder, demolishing demon bodies in blasts of fire and ashes. They soared high again to crash land against another demon horde as their forms mixed with the magic of charging Lions and Hounds. The forms and light of the three kinds of Spirit Warden seeming to morph and meld to create glowing monstrosities that turned everything in their path to blood and fire—and in some cases Adem saw these unified lines of energies took a form similar to sinuous glowing dragons that devoured their prey in ravenous jaws—armour melting to slag as bodies exploded in their paths. Crow, Hound and Lion filling the air with cries of bloodthirsty rage.

Ki'mera orbs filled the sky, flying towards Adem, Jean, Carl, and Wil as their altherin horses cried out once more. Standing on their hind legs before they began to bolt into the distance at such speeds that the dark lava cracked land moved towards Adem's vision in a blur of burning shadows. The immortals had all found mounts within that time, and they were all riding alongside Adem and his friends. They crossed a great distance before Adem looked back to see the four Battle Angels flying towards the Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor, with thousands of ki'mera orbs flowing behind them.

The Battle Angels and the ki'mera orbs were absorbed by the Resting Points of Adem's and his friends' enchanted weapons. Though this time Adem noticed the ki'mera orbs being absorbed by his flesh also, the balls of light flying into his chest and filling his spirit with a recharge despite the sense of evil that came with the energy force.

The next three days passed without much rest and with little sleep. It took over fourteen hours to reach the edges of the East Lands when Orion and the immortals decided it was safe to rest the horses and allow Adem and his friends to get some rest. The immortals had some dried beef and flat bread and cheese in small belt pouches that they shared with Adem and his friends. There was no game to hunt this far to the east as the land was still barren and cracked with lava with stunted black trees.

The next day the horses moved at breakneck speeds, Orion explained that altherin horses could easily run at three times the speed of mortal horses. These altherin breed horses were pushed to their limits as they travelled across the East Lands that day, and the next, though Orion assured Adem the horses could recover with a few weeks rest.

They travelled west and north-west on the third day until the horses slowed at Orion's command. White stone walls of Nordhel were gleaming in the bright early afternoon light. On wide green fields that stretched for miles in all directions. Enormous snow-capped blue stone mountains rising in the distance. The land had shifted and transformed in a blurring of the eyes during that three days of riding. Farms, villages, mountains, and rivers had taken shape only to vanish moments after as the horses moved swiftly and with ease across the open plains.

They had stopped to rest for four hours on the second night also, and by this time, they had crossed the Borderlands that were protected by the Seven Borderland Kingdoms of the Green Border. Orion had explained that although three of the Borderland Kingdoms were Immortal Kingdoms, there were no Immortal Kings residing in any of them. They were under the supervision of the three immortal sons of the Nordic King, Tobin Fire-Heart.

They moved into a slow trot to make the remainder of the journey to the rising walls of Nordhel. Deer and stags covered the lands surrounding the city – sprawling for over ten miles in a large diamond shape – and rabbits scurried through the long-flowered grasses chased by ferrets and foxes who followed them into their burrows. Tall trees of pine, oak, and redwood were scattered across the fields, some rising over a hundred feet with thick trunks and wide leafy foliage.

Birds of many colours perched in the branches and their song put Adem's mind at ease after the episode with the Rahkwel and Nymloc – they were the dark-skinned demons with the fang-shaped eyes of flame – where they had also had their first chance to witness the Angel-Magics of their Battle Angels.

Talegon and Kelflax sounded their horns as they approached the raised portcullis of the outer wall main gate.

An escort of immortal Aldebrands on horseback rode out of the gateway to flank them on both sides as they crossed the last mile to the gate. A tall fair-skinned immortal man – with large dark blue eyes and golden hair tied back in a long tail – greeted them at the entrance to the gate on a tall dark horse. The man's name was Captain Nem Odellin; he wore the Aldebrand cloak over a polished black breastplate with gold serpentine dragons, dark leather trousers, and knee-high brown leather boots.

A Lukrorian Bow of green-and-gold hung from his saddle case, and a golden sword hilt stuck up above his right shoulder. 'Greetings, King Orion, Queen Elmira,' Nem said. His blond moustache and pointed goatee were fashioned similarly to Orion's facial hair.

'Are these the Children of Prophecy?' Nem asked with a look of wonder. 'The three Sons of Odin?—And the Daughter of Thor?'

'They are the Four Children of Salvation,' Orion said. 'They have already proven their worth, though they came to the foretold place at the foretold hour of the First Arrival.

'They are the Blue Water Dragon, the Red Fire Lion, the Black Shadow Wolf, and the White Snow Fox, of Prophecy and Legend. This I declare as King of the Torvellen.' Nem bowed low to Adem and his friends before he said to Orion, 'King Tobin has been expecting you for three days now. He became very concerned when you did not return on the first day of the Arrival. My heart is gladdened that you have all returned here safely. What delayed you, may I ask?'

'Jinn-Magic has already infected the Travelling Gates,' Orion explained. 'We were transported to the East Lands. We battled with Rahkwel and Nymloc. It was a bloodthirsty battle though a good first lesson for our Saviours.'

'Yes, Jinn-Magic,' Nem agreed. 'Already it seeps through teron to flood my flesh and bones. My very spirit recoils at the vileness of it. I will waste no more of your time, Your Majesties.' Nem then waved them towards the tunnel that led to the inner wall.

Orion and Elmira travelled through first with Adem and his friends following after. Aldebrands on horseback and on foot moved about the courtyard between the outer wall and inner wall. The ground was white paved-stone triangular blocks so large Adem did not know how they would have lifted them without use of Angel-Magic. The Aldebrands seemed to know who they were seeing when they set eyes on Adem and his friends, and they bowed or got down on one knee with fists pressed to hearts.

'Are they bowing to their king and queen?' Jean asked Elmira. Elmira smiled warmly at Jean as she explained, 'We are not their king and queen. They are Nordics. They bow and salute to the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.'

Chapter 5

The Nordics

The ride towards the Palace was a strange experience. The city within the inner wall was formed of grey stone pavement with stone fountains; statues of strange mythical creatures and some that he guessed were sculptures of Great Angels.

The inns were mostly large sprawling buildings with tile or slate roofs of bright blues, reds, yellows, or greens. Every roof was either slate or tile, some worked with an assortment of colours.

Thousands of Aldebrands walked the streets with Lukrorian Bows across their backs and long swords at their hips, all wearing the Aldebrand cloaks that blended with the grey stone streets and buildings.

Some bowed down at their passing – both men and women, Alit'aren and Ael Tarael – when they realised it was the Children of Prophecy who rode with King Orion and Queen Elmira.

The Palace of Nordhel rose before them as they climbed the steps and streets that were built over hillsides – a gleaming white system of rectangular slabs layered in a pyramid fashion with enormous white towers, bridges, and walkways rising and extended off its sides. Flags and banners blew atop the towers in the warm evening breeze; the blue sky above filled with fluffy white clouds.

They crossed through the gateway to the Palace Courtyard where they passed more of the dark coated men. Orion explained, 'These men are Aesir'Eron – or Seidr Alit'aren,' who bowed or got down on their knees to pay tribute to the Arrival. 'Seidr'tera is the name given to the second-level Seidr who are in training to become Alit'aren.'

As they made their way to the Royal Stables where stablemen took their horses, Adem asked Jean about her knowledge of Anna.

'She is my agent' was really all Jean could tell him besides, 'she approached me during a photo shoot in Los Angeles. She told me she would make me a big star, and she told me I had the aura for it. She bought me the ticket to Australia.

'She said I should make a name for myself in Australian television or films. Why do you ask, Adem?' Adem did not tell her at this stage that Orion had explained that Anna was actually a part of the spirit of the wife of Odin, or the whole of the Great Angel in mind and spirit, whatever the case was.

After climbing a flight of wide stone stairs, they entered the main doors of the Palace through high red-and-golden double doors. Their journey through the Palace was one of mixed feelings of nervousness and awe at the wonders that lay sprawled wall to wall—statues formed of pure gold-and-silver were displayed in shapes of dragons and other animals, including one of three stags which was said to be symbolic of the Sons. Servants in black livery slashed with red, white, or blue, moving busily about the hallways where guards, soldiers, and Aldebrands also stood at every corner and staircase.

During their walk up the many levels towards the room where King Tobin and Queen Lydia awaited them, Orion said, 'The Four Rohjors were formed under symbols of power – the Fox Rohjor, the Wolf Rohjor, the Lion Rohjor, and the Dragon Rohjor. Rohjors are four separate governing bodies through which the Alit'aren and Ael Tarael work their schemes and politics to organize armies, societies, even rulers. They are essentially like Covens with their own set of rules and laws. However, any Immoral King or Queen can overrule any decision made by each Rohjor Council.'

'So, who will have dominion over the Immortal Kings and Queens, then?' Jean asked, 'As the Sons of Odin bring a toxic trouble to the male half of Angel-Magic, and even the Immortal Kings are at risk of turning mad from its corruption, holding sway over the decisions of their wives.

'So surely then, only the White Snow Fox could be supreme ruler with the right to command Immortal Kings and Queens, and to overrule even their decisions. For the leader of Kismeria must also be pure of heart and mind.'

Orion raised a pointed brow in shock at the sudden rise in confidence of the Daughter of Thor. Her words penetrated his wards against revealing emotion. Adem saw the man was troubled. Her burst in confidence even made Adem a little nervous.

After climbing seven levels, they reached large double doors of polished oak worked with golden lions. Guards greeted them and allowed entrance to a large study; high ceilings with golden cherub cornices. The roof was painted blue skies and white clouds with colourful birds flying through-the-air; falcons, eagles, and hawks with brightly coloured wing tips.

King Tobin and Queen Lydia sat on tall rectangular-backed thrones of carved oak, large red-and-gold lions forming the armrests on either side. Tobin was similar looking to Orion − light skinned with large dark eyes and dark silken hair tied back in a tail. This king and his queen were the other half of the two pairs of immortal rulers Adem had first seen in his dreams and visions of this world. Those incredible warriors that fought against Jinn-Fendinn for an Age or more. The experience and wisdom of hundreds of years could be seen and understood when gazing into those eyes, and the women also had eyes that saw beyond the years of experience of the life span of any mortal. At least any mortal not able to wield Angel-Magic.

Tobin had the same thick dark moustache and goatee as Orion also. He wore a gold crown worked with lions standing with their front paws outstretched and ruby eyes. His gown was dark blue silk with gold-and-silver lions across the shoulders, cuffs, and hem, as well as down the dividing halves of the robe. A belt of golden medallions with ruby-eyed lion faces embossed on each.

'Welcome, King Orion, Queen Elmira,' Tobin said. 'I see you have brought the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. I am gladdened by their Arrival. Already I sense Jinn-Magic on the male half of Angel-Magic, as I have for three days now. It is the first part of the Prophecy, the first stage of our fate.'

Adem considered his brief visit to Kismeria with the tower and goblin and the Shadow Rider. That must have been years ago in the history of Kismeria though Jinn-Magic was not felt from this time to the time he arrived with his friends. He decided it was either that he was not fully within the world of Kismeria in that first short visit, or that it required all three of the Sons of Odin to concentrate Jinn-Magic within teron.

Queen Lydia was tall and slender with firm muscles and glowing pale skin. Her eyes were large blue fire, and her hair was like golden silk tied in a thick braid similar to Queen Elmira. She wore a gown of white silk, with a hooded silk cloak of pale blue, worked with silver scrollwork and white foxes around the edges. A diamond tiara sat on her brow, threaded into her hair and diamond rings on both hands. A belt of gold-and-silver medallions hung from her slender waist. A gold necklace with a large diamond nestled between her ample bosoms.

She was strikingly beautiful like Queen Elmira, despite their large eyes and pointed ears that took some getting used to.

'Welcome, Daughter of Thor,' Lydia said as she rose to make her way down the red-carpeted floor towards Jean, with her hands outstretched in greeting. 'You have the proud face of a great warrior woman. You are everything the Prophecies have foretold and more than we could have expected. I look forward to training you to wield terael.

'We will make you the most powerful Ael Tarael ever. I sense your potential with Angel-Magic flowing through you. We will see what we can yield of this potential. Come, we will leave the men to drink and feast and you shall talk with Elmira and me about your home world and its wonders.'

Elmira and Lydia then led Jean out through a side door with their arms linked to hers. They talked softly as they went, and four Ael Tarael followed the women out of the room. Adem noticed four Aldebrands following the women down the hallway.

'They will be well guarded,' Tobin said to Adem. 'Now, we will drink and feast to celebrate the First Arrival. We have much to discuss, though it can wait for you to eat and refresh yourselves. Follow me, to the Royal Dining Hall.'

Eight Aldebrands with swords at their hips strode along in front of them as they exited the room. They had been standing guard when Adem and his friends first entered.

The dining hall was very large with a huge polished oak table with over fifty high-backed cushioned chairs surrounding it. Ambassadors of the four immortal clans were present at the banquet. They held themselves with confidence, and their eyes were filled with wisdom and courage.

Wil found himself surrounded by half a dozen Ruhalden, and Carl became engrossed in conversation with four of the Dremelden while Adem sat with Tobin and Orion. The long dining table was covered with dishes of roasted meats and vegetables, fruits, breads, and cheeses. They drank pints of ale or spiced red wines from ornate goblets. Aldebrands of the four clans were stationed around the room in their native garb, the Torvellen in the camouflage-style torin'sidhe. Nordics in bright coats and armour. The Dremelden also wore the torin'sidhe under their cloaks, and the Ruhalden wore bright silks. Ruhalden also wore large curved blades at their belts in ornately coloured scabbards, gold rings in their ears, and jewelled rings upon their fingers.

'Do you have many ships,' Wil was asking, to which a dark skinned Ruhalden replied with serious nodding, 'Big ships, small ships, fast ships, long-ships, junks, row boats. Yes, Wil Martyr, we have a generous fleet of sailing vessels mostly, for transport of goods, going to war, but mostly we love to sail.'

'I should like to see some of these vessels,' Wil replied in earnest, though he appeared a little short of conversation. 'I like motorboats.' This brought on an odd series of furious nodding and confounded facial expressions. Much gesturing and chin rubbing from the immortal men, before the same man asked, 'What manner of vessel is this?'

***

The next three months were spent in training. By day, the three Sons of Odin practiced with their weapons against Nordic Aldebrands. In the evenings, they were trained to wield the All-Father's Magic – Angel-Magic – by Alit'aren of the four immortal clans. Adem's Battle Angel assisted him with knowledge of weapons, Angel-Magic, and strategies of war.

This knowledge was passed to Adem's mind through the kigare although Adem never summoned Arawn to obtain this information.

He started off with a number of Agnars teaching him the forms of weaponry, but particularly the sword in Adem's case. Forms of the sword and other weaponry had particular names also, starting with the Four Stances, of the Wolf, Lion, Dragon or Fox. Then forms were given elaborate names to describe the style of each move. Names like Red Tiger Dances, Silver Swan, Sickle Moon and Right Stirrup. There were possibly thousands of names like these, with some attributed only to a particular weapon.

Agnar's preferred the Wolf Stance to begin most forms, though the Lion and Dragon were also popular for Aldebrands and other male warriors, while the Fox Stance was most commonly only taught to women as a starting point to all female named forms.

Within the first week of sword training Adem's muscles and bones had begun to ache to extremes. Carl and Wil complained of the same. They did not see Jean much during those early days of training. The Ael Tarael and Brendas that were teaching her preferred to keep her separate from the men. Adem suspected, and hoped, it had something to do with their noticing Jean's feelings for Adem.

They used wooden weapons in the early stages of training, at least when fighting against well trained opponents, but they always wielded their steel to practice the forms without a combatant. To learn to become fluid in their movements with the weight and balance of each weapon. This part of their training was more meditative, a kind of dance of rhythms and flows from one form to the next. Bear Claw was a downward swipe of the blade from up high, changing into White Ram Charges, a kind of spearing of the sword to drive into the chest of the opponent if contact was made and perhaps finishing with Crimson Sun. This was a skull splitting swipe from up high again, though the aim was to swing the sword up through the abdomen and chest of your opponent first, to open them up before bringing the blade down in a spray of blood.

Adem's lack of skill at deflecting these kinds of moves early on was the main reason he preferred to practice alone, moving through the forms without an opponent to potentially wound him. They often received special forms of Healing-Magic to repair physical damage to their flesh and bones. Bruises were apparently quite simple to repair with Angel-Magic, though forcing bone fractures to repair in a few minutes required more skill and concentration, and exertion. Lira usually applied his Healing-Magic, and Adem began to feel somewhat comfortable around the woman. She began to symbolise the caring aunt that sought to nurse him back to health.

During these three months, Adem's ability to wield increased dramatically. He learnt to lift and move objects or even people with Air-Magic. This was an early form of magic, used by the First Immortal Kin in the First Age—that was in fact hundreds of millions of years after the Dawn of Ages when the Great Angels were first made and began to craft the world—and it was a magic that was taught to the immortals by various Battle Angels during those first days following the arrival of Elves. This practice of magic required some focus on the object or materials you wished to levitate, as he harnessed Angel-Magic and felt its electric glow filling his every fibre. Teron was then wielded—microfilaments of energy that were visible in patterns of various colours to the eyes of the wielder, making it easier to understand the style of casting for each form of Angel-Magic—and these Angel-Spells were also visible to other male wielders present. This is partly how Adem was first instructed on how to create each spell, the other method was through communication with Arawn.

Air-Magic was difficult to master, though these Angel-Spells were taught early for this very reason. It increased the ability to harness teron and create easier Angel-Spells wielding the Elemental Magic of Fire and Earth, which were a strength for Alit'aren in particular. Ael Tarael were more often stronger in Water-Magic and Air-Magic. Air-Magic was difficult for even Ael Tarael to wield to create extremely powerful shields on a vast scale without being linked with a number of other wielders.

When making an object levitate, Adem felt somewhat connected with the object once it began to move, like an extension of his physical form. Particularly his arms, similar to the sensation of holding a sword as an extension of his physical self. Smaller objects were obviously much easier to move or lift than a boulder or a human body. The increased weight of an object required a significant increase in the amount of teron that was harnessed to achieve the feat. It actually took the better part of the first two months before he could even shift one of the heavy-set Aldebrands he was attempting to levitate. When he managed to make them float it would only be a few inches off the ground for a short time.

He learnt to make walls of Fire-Magic, and he learnt to throw lightning from his bare hands. This was perhaps his favourite aspect of all the training he had learnt so far. It showed him his own potential for Destruction-Magic. Fire-Magic and lightning were easier to acquire, and although the spells were still quite complex to master in the beginning, once practiced for a number of weeks, he was able to hurl a blazing blue bolt of flame from either hand almost instinctively. He did not fully understand the nature of how the body and brain were working so quickly to wield the spells. After harnessing teron, and then unleashing each attack as fast as he could gesture. It seemed this complex arrangement of thought, spiritual focussing and finally the release of the energies through action, were achieved in a matter of microseconds once the spells were learnt to the degree of being called mastered.

He loved the feeling of lightning in his veins. It was an ecstatic sensation; he felt so alive from Angel-Magic he thought he might explode before he unleashed each attack upon the stuffed dummies that burst into flames on impact. The force of the blasts was also considerable, as sometimes even stone boulders could be split by the impact of a bolt of lightning or bar of burning brilliance.

'Good, Adem Highlander, you are getting better already,' his magic instructor would tell him approvingly. 'Remember to focus on your breathing. At times, in a relaxed state, of little control of each gentle breath, though you must also concentrate on the techniques to increase circulation of air in the blood when you are under heavy exertion via continued wielding.'

'Yes, Alit'aren Torin,' Adem would reply, 'I always strive to do as you command.'

'That is good also, Adem, you are a fine pupil. I see great potential in you, and perhaps the skills necessary to become a leader. Though Carl Wilder is more skilled when it comes to learning Angel-Magic, you are second and Wil Martyr needs to do some catching up.

'Your strength in wielding Fire-Magic is exceptional. It is quite remarkable in fact to see you draw so much so quickly. You unleash your attacks with such skill and efficiency.'

'Thank you, Alit'aren Torin.'

'Just call me Torin,' the dark eyed immortal replied, 'and I shall try to remember to call you just by your fist name also, Adem. For we have become friends, have we not?'

Adem was stunned and elated to receive such praise and such kind words from his teacher, he was baffled for thinking of how to reply before he simply said, 'Friends we are.'

'That is well then,' the man said with arms crossed in his dark Alit'aren coat. 'But tell me more of your emotions. These can cloud your focus and judgement at crucial moments in battle. You have strong feelings for the Daughter of Thor, is this not true?'

'Admittedly, Jean is very beautiful,' Adem said as he felt he might be beginning to blush.

'Yes; and the Daughter of Thor is also kind and wise and quick in her words and actions. But I wonder, would you go so far as to admit that you even love her?'

'I admit that,' Adem said. His feelings for Jean were well known throughout the kingdom by now, but he was always shy about expressing those emotions, and guarded. As if he wished to keep it a secret all to himself.

'That is a splendid thing,' Torin remarked. 'Love is all powerful. If she feels the same way as you, and I believe from what I observe of her that she does also have strong feelings for you, then the two of you will form a special bond beyond even the magic of the kigare. It will unite you. Making you both stronger at times of doubt and self-pity, more courageous in battle as love fans the fires of your hearts. But beware, there is a flip side to this wonderful emotion, that you may become too attached to Jean Fairsythe. You may feel completely responsible for her protection and well-being. Perhaps to the point that you or she both forsake your own caution for safety and self-preservation. This could be your worst mistake, quite deadly indeed.'

'That is sound advice, Torin.'

'Yes, you must focus and meditate on this overwhelming attraction you have for the Daughter of Thor. Focusing on the object of your desires is not normally a practiced form of rational thought towards achieving enlightenment. Yet in your case I believe it is crucial for you to understand the need for you to control your emotions. Do not let them rule your decisions to a potentially fatal end.

'I do however consider you to be perhaps one of the only men I would call fitting as a suitor to our female Saviour, the White Snow Fox. You are not only a Son of Odin—which perhaps gives you the right in itself—but you are also strong of mind and thought and feeling. You are compassionate and a shrewd thinker. You are also quick to action, but you command a presence of calm when your symptoms are under sufficient treatment.

'For this reason, and because you are such a fine student, I give you my blessing, to love Jean Fairsythe and to pursue her until she is finally yours and yours alone. Take pride in such well wishes, for I do not pronounce my approval of such match making with frivolous abandon. You deserve to love her, Adem, for despite the illness I see and sense in you, I also know the pure intentions of your heart.'

'You confound me with kind words, Torin.'

'Very well, let us return to your training. I want you to wield Earth-Magic that will obliterate that statue over there.'

Adem stared across the courtyard with raised brows at the taller than life statue of a man standing proudly in a crown and thick cloak. An ornamental sceptre in one hand and a perfect stone sphere in the other. The figure had been an immortal by the pointed ears, that much was certain, and likely a King.

'But it is such a fine statue, and of a royal too. Why would you want me to destroy it? Wouldn't it bring me shame amongst these people to destroy a statue of one of their ancient rulers?'

'He was not just any ruler,' Torin remarked with some hint of disdain for the man. 'He was in fact the Second Nordic King to ever rule. His name was Lenk, younger brother of the famed Elarja RinHannen. Elarja was in fact the true heir to the Nordic throne after the death of their father, the First Nordic King, Rodin Cloud-Walker.

'Elarja refused to accept his place as the new Nordic King. By that Age Elarja had already begun to wield the Four Time Stones, to travel to the distant future Ages. Teaching Lore to the First Men, he discovered facts about the potential future timelines. He eventually began his doomed quest to attempt to rescue dead heroes from many battles, only moments before their demise. It was for this last quest that Elarja is truly famous. He would have made a fine King, if he had not vanished throughout space and time for far longer back through the Ages than any man that still lives can remember.'

'So why destroy the statue of his brother Lenk?'

'Lenk was a catastrophe to the Elder Days of Immortal Kin. The man was a plain fool to begin with, but when he took his place as Nordic King, so began the downfall of the might, and majesty of Nordic ambition and accomplishments. The Seven Hundred Years of Darkness was a name they later gave to that Age. The precious knowledge and hard work of their forefathers was wasted on countless marches into the Forbidden Realms of alternate worlds. Lenk sought to rule and hold dominion over the other races and clans of those dimensions. Endless wars ensued between the Immortals and the Kjia'hyenti, or Leaf Aldebrands, whom before that Age were close friends of Rodin Cloud-Walker. They had walked amongst the Immortals of those days sharing precious gems of Lore and Elemental Magic.

'Lenk was responsible for destroying that sacred bond between the two races. The Leaf Aldebrands placed many restrictive wards upon the land of Kismeria during the Seven Hundred Years. Limiting the potential of the Elf Kin for discovering magic that was forged in the world during the Crafting of the Old Ways, by Odin and Daiyon and their descendants.

'It is considered therefore the fault of Lenk's entirely, that much of the Old Ways Magic has been forever lost to our people. For that reason alone, I wish very much for you to destroy his statue. I have stood in this practice yard many times and grit my teeth in ire as I stared upon this grossly arrogant carving of a rabid dog, that should've been put down long before he had the chance to rule.'

Adem breathed a sigh of relief that his teacher's tirade was appearing to be completed. He had heard of the Legends of Elarja RinHannen. He had studied a number of books based on his ancient adventures, but he had never heard of his brother Lenk. Now he thought he understood why that part of history had been buried for so long.

'If you say so, Torin, I will do it. But it makes me nervous.'

'Do not be nervous, Adem Highlander,' Torin said with controlled vitriol. 'Blast that damn fool's face and form into a pile of rubble.' Immortals nearly always addressed mortals by their first and last names, and Torin must have also been having trouble adapting to just calling him Adem. The fact that he had used his full name this time however, suggested to Adem that the man was absolutely genuine in his commands. He also sensed the slightest hint of amusement in Torin's tone.

Adem began to wield Earth-Magic. Locking his mind around the Teron-Spells from previous times he had learnt them was similar to the first time he had learnt to wield Chi, many years ago back home. Like that time, when he had first sensed energy being released through the palms of his hands, his mind had to lock around the spiritual mechanisms required to achieve the ability.

There was a relationship between the word Chi, and its representation of a kind of energy force, with the names of firstly ki'mera in this world, the 'Ki' part of the word resembling the Japanese name for the same force. Adem saw a definite link in the histories of the two worlds. Ki'mera being the name for demon souls that fuelled the magic of Battle Angels and also wielders, so again there was that connection. The name was also similar to the name for this planet, Kismeria, which was named deliberately to correlate with the energy force. According to Arawn the two names were as old as each other, along with kigare, that had existed even before the Great Angels in the mind and spirit of the Lord God.

He harnessed Earth-Magic while teron filled his flesh and bones. Pure Angel-Magic was a blessing to his soul. He was sickened by the foulness of the Jinn-Magic that also flowed through his veins, to a point that he could barely stand the agony of it. The corruption fuelled his rage. He unleashed the spell upon the statue. First with a force that made the statue's head explode into a cloud of dust. He gestured again. The stone split up through the base until the entire statue crumbled into pieces.

'Impressive!' Torin remarked. 'You will soon be strong enough to take on a battle more serious than the one you faced in the Eastlands. Relax now, and you may release your hold on teron.'

Adem did as he was commanded. It was a relief to let go of that horrid taint, yet the bliss of Angel-Magic always left him longing to hold it once more. To draw more from its brilliance that seemed to make his soul shine with every breath.

Though the act of destroying the statue also brought a new overwhelming sense of fear and dread. As if again some ominous force—perhaps Lenk himself reaching out from beyond the grave to take his revenge—made him regret being so willing to demolish a statue of the Second Nordic King. It was more than just shame. His fear that even Lenk himself may seek out his vengeance as a wailing ghost that haunted his dreams, was perhaps not impossible. These thoughts began to gather in his mind as a very plausible possibility. For that reason, he was truly unnerved.

***

Adem's love for Jean grew in those autumn months. He spent as much time alone with her as he was allowed by his trainers. Mostly it was after dinner as Jean also ate alone with the Ael Tarael and Lydia and Elmira.

Adem and Jean would often sneak up to the balcony of one of the high towers and look out over the city in the moonlight. On one of those nights Adem looked over the rooftops of the surrounding city of Nordhel, with a searing pain in his chest. He had longed to spend the night with Jean ever since that first kiss. As they stood there holding one another, he gazed at the moonlight tracing her golden locks, and the city itself, lit up like some wonderland that emanated magic from stone and tile. He felt that the magic was a part of his love for Jean. As if that love could alter the very environment.

His love for Jean was the most powerful intoxicant he had ever experienced. In some ways it set his soul aflame even more than wielding teron. He felt invigorated; more alive than he had felt for many years. He adored her, it was beyond an obsessive infatuation—though perhaps that is how it began—and when she declared her love for him in return, he was beyond ecstatic. Elation flowed through his veins. A coursing electric vibe that made his skin tingle and his soul glow.

They kissed many times and often held each other for long embraces while they promised their love to one another, over and over again.

'Do you love me, Adem Highlander?' Jean would ask, to which he would always reply in earnest, 'I adore you, Jean Fairsythe.'

'How much do you love me?'

'I love you more than life itself. My soul is enlightened by your presence. My heart yearns for your kisses and your embrace.'

'What would you do if you lost me?' Jean asked, with large blue eyes shining.

'I would lose myself, if that day ever came to pass. I would lose all hope. I would never recover.'

'What would you do, if you could have me?' Jean wore a playful smile, as she pressed her form up close against his own.

'I would be the happiest man alive, Jean. I would be so bold I would gain the strength to lead these people, to show them that victory was achievable. I would give them hope.'

Jean sighed and moved her form away from his. She gazed into his eyes once more and said with some concern, 'You talk in such absolutes, Adem! You so easily go from one extreme to the other. It even sounds a little bipolar. That's not your condition, is it?'

Adem smiled and shook his head, though he knew there was real sadness in his eyes.

'You just frighten me when you talk about the possibility that I might lose you, Jean. I can't even bear to imagine it. I won't ever let that happen. I promise.'

'But that is exactly my point,' Jean said. 'You must be willing to accept that I could die in one of these battles we are yet to face. You must be able to face that. To know that you can't protect me all the time.'

'Don't say such things!' Adem said, with pain crushing his chest.

'It's a simple truth, Adem. I also have to face that I could lose you, too. There will be dangers for us, when we face the Shadow. We cannot let the fact that one of us might very likely die; restrict our obligations to lead these people to victory.'

'Those are wise words, Jean.'

'You must promise me that if that day ever comes, you will not give up hope. You must promise that you will fight even harder. Avenge me and be the hero you were destined to be. Do you promise?' Jean sounded as if it was very important that he do as she asked.

Adem sighed deeply before he pulled her close again, kissing her forehead and staring into her eyes. 'I promise that if I ever lose you, Jean Fairsythe, I will tear down the moon and the stars. I will hold up the sun to turn night into day, if that is what is required to avenge you.'

Jean laughed softly as tears began to well in her eyes. She smiled warmly and kissed his lips with passion. When she pulled away, she replied, 'Absolutes, again, Adem! But that was a good one. I won't forget your promise.'

An Ael Tarael would always appear at the doorway to the tower whenever they planned to go somewhere else together. Adem had wanted to get Jean alone in his bedchamber since their first night spent in Nordhel, though the Ael Tarael always managed to put a stop to this idea. He guessed that the Ael Tarael feared that love would interfere with their training. Still, he yearned to spend one night alone with Jean. To lie with her and feel her soft skin and firm body pressed against his own.

***

One night, as Adem lay in his bedchamber with his sword propped against the side of the bed, the lantern light on the dresser beside his four posted bed went out. As did the glowbulbs that were positioned around the room to keep it lit at-all times. A necessity to keep Souljhin from entering through the shadows. A blast of red flames blossomed in the darkness. Warping around a cloaked shadow. Eyes of yellow-orange flames within the cowl. A malevolent heat was drawing upon the darkness. A form of energy that fed the Jinn-Magic of the cloaked form. Radiance of evil filled the room—and when he spoke, his voice was like thunder. 'The hour has come for you to face your fate! The High-Jinn has ordered your death!'

Adem raised his blade that glowed bright blue. The High-Servant wielded a dark blade that glowed with blood red runes; striking downwards at Adem's skull. Adem held his blade to defend. Red and blue light made the walls tremble. This vibration also caused some kind of shield surrounding the walls to shatter.

Nordic Aldebrands burst into the chamber with arrows of green and blue aimed at the Hex-Warlord. Rior and Aedlen drew deeply from teron with each arrow they unleashed—their fluid movements firing the arrows in a blur of repeated motions. Bolts of light striking a wall of red flames. Rapid blasts that sent shockwaves reverberating through the room, blasting bricks within the stone walls loose. The Hex-Warlord gestured with a black gauntleted fist. The Aldebrands were thrown across the room, skulls hitting stone walls with a heavy thud!

Adem felt a surge of Angel-Magic seep into his blood and bones. Teron filled him with incredible heat and impossible cold. Corruption floating on that pure ecstasy like dark acid. Light sprang from the sword. Forming a shield of thick blue lightning. The bolts had the faces of blue serpents that snapped at the dark armour of the Hex-Warlord. Adem didn't know if that was his use of Angel-Magic or some magic unleashed by Arawn.

His first instinct was to summon Arawn, though the words he shouted were, 'Shei'heildorth Alfodr!' He'd learnt some of the Immortal Tongue during those three months of training. He didn't remember when he'd learnt that name though he understood its meaning when he said it. Fire Spear of the All Father!

A simpler version of the name would have been Odin's Spear.

A white-hot bolt of blue light shot forth from the shield of blue fire serpents, lancing in a straight line as thick as Adem's forearm. The Hex-Warlord roared as the bolt of fire tore through his heart. A moment later, the shadow figure vanished in a twisting of light and shadows, and the dim amber light of the glowbulbs returned to the room. Two more dark-haired Aldebrands entered the room followed by a golden-haired Ael Tarael with bright blue eyes – Eleil Tancroft was her name – who made her way to the two fallen Aldebrands to rest her hands on their heads.

'Nordhel is under attack,' Daedlen said. The green-eyed Aldebrand wore an emerald coat and breastplate; dark leather trousers and leather boots. Norin, the dark-eyed Aldebrand, in a red coat and armour; wielding an arrow of burning crimson. Their cloaks mingled with the shadows. 'There are Souljhin moving throughout the castle,' Souljhin was one of the names for the Shadow Riders. 'Aldebrands also fight them on the streets of Nordhel. There may be over three hundred of them inside the walls of Nordhel − a considerable force. We expect many casualties as there is no fast or easy way to cure the Jinn-Magic of Souljhin blades.

'We must fight our way to King Tobin and King Orion,' Daedlen continued. 'They've moved to one of the higher chambers.' Just then, Carl and Wil strode into the chamber behind two more Aldebrands.

'Where is Jean?' Adem asked urgently.

'I am here,' Jean said. She entered behind Carl and Wil with two Ael Tarael behind her. The chamber was twelve paces by twelve with a large marble fireplace, table, chairs, dressers, and a large wardrobe. A chest at the foot of the bed held the clothing, armour, belt, and bow that Adem changed into and equipped. He also took the toramor shield strapped to his left arm.

He took out the red woollen coat and crimson armour; dark trousers and black leather boots. Carl, Wil, and Jean wore the same clothing and armour they'd been gifted on the first day of their Arrival.

'Stay behind us, and use your bows to distract the Souljhin,' Daedlen ordered. 'Do not attempt hand-to-hand combat with any of them. They are highly skilled with their swords, and you will meet a swift death if you try to face one alone. If you're trapped by one, you must summon your Battle Angels.'

They moved through the hallways with Aldebrands and Ael Tarael around Adem and his friends. Aldebrands, guards, and soldiers moved about the hallways in panicked states. Screams were heard in the distance. Men roaring in defiance amidst the clash of steel blades.

They moved with haste up a flight of stairs that took them to one of the highest main floors. A dozen more Aldebrands stood in alert stances, their weapons drawn and their faces and eyes darting left and right. The entire guard were moving with stealth through a hallway crossing when Adem turned—at the sound of clashing steel—to see a warrior lock blades with a Souljhin that stood taller than any immortal he had ever seen!—as the crimson blade slid along one side of the defender's, sliding back beneath to whip the weapon aside and lop off the man's skull in a red fountain.

Adem was frozen stiff as he gazed on the event, while Daedlen stood crouched by his side with a hand resting on his shoulder. Adem looked back to see Rior holding a hand over Jean's mouth to muffle her attempts to scream. Everyone had frozen still by some Aldebrand instinct that led the others. Adem had heard that Aldebrands could sense the presence of demons and other Shadowspawn.

For Adem it was not so acute, just a daunting sense of evil bleeding from the very walls with so many Souljhin skulking about the palace. He would not have detected the location of the tall one if he had not heard the blades clash first.

Adem's position was also covered in darkness. The lanterns had been extinguished before they reached the crossing, most likely by Souljhin to increase their ability to infiltrate in greater numbers. A rule of the kingdom was that 'no place should be darkened by night even when it is a place of sleeping'. This suggested a Darksouled or another High-Servant had taken part in allowing the Souljhin to first enter the kingdom. Perhaps by disabling the glowbulbs in this hallway.

The second requirement to summon a Souljhin was a device usually formed of pure gold, an embossed disc about the size of a hand-palm. The face of the disc was a Celtic design of twisting lines, with a human skull embossed at the centre. It was called a Jhin-Tap, and these were usually placed in areas of darkness that Souljhin wished to infiltrate. Other Hex-Warlords had most likely placed the Jhin-Taps in various parts of the palace, after snuffing out the lights. When a Jhin-Tap was ever found, a soldier or Aldebrand would surround the disc with lanterns and then summon a wielder to destroy the relic. There was also no known way to sense for a Jhin-Tap when wielding Angel-Magic. Anyone ever found in possession of a Jhin-Tap was named a Shadowsouled and executed.

Flames and shadows danced around the massive cloaked monster as it stood in the distant crossing of another division of halls. Eyes of malevolence staring from beneath the cowl like dark seeds, filled with a hatred for mankind, though not seeing Adem and the others where they crouched. A terrifying force of pure sin radiating throughout the atmosphere as the screams of men fighting and dying echoed from that location and beyond, until the figure stalked ahead and out of sight.

Daedlen held a finger up to his own lips to signal silence when Adem had first glanced upon the Aldebrand, and he continued to do so for a time after the Souljhin vanished from view, until the entire host began to creep onwards with even greater stealth.

Adem offered his hand to Jean, but she refused. He knew, or at least hoped, it was because she was just too focused, and perhaps too proud to accept his help. Perhaps she also knew the quick thinking of Aldebrands like Rior was the most likely thing to keep her alive at this point in time.

They moved on with caution, though with an agile step to try to reach the kings and queens to lend aid, but also in the hope that Orion and Tobin and their wives could provide the protection they desperately needed. Daedlen led the party, often halting with a fist raised as his Aldebrand senses detected Souljhin skulking in the distance. This resulted in a slow journey for the remainder of hallways they needed to cross, until they were nearing the library. When they rounded a corner, three of the deadly assassins slithered into view. Morphing from the shadows at the end of the hall, they stood like tall shadows, wielding swords of dark grey steel that glowed with hot crimson runes.

The tallest of the three Souljhin pointed a black gauntleted finger with a pointed black nail at Adem, as it hissed, 'We have come for the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. Any who stand in our way shall meet their deaths.'

Adem was about to summon Arawn when he heard three strings strummed. The strings of a harp. The sound was strong and pure and reverberated through the stone walls as if the strings were made with Angel-Magic. A strange illuminating force seemed to take over their surroundings. Not only visually, but also as a presence that reminded him of growing old and accepting your fate to pass over to the next realm; or falling in battle while defending your ground and your people. Dying with courage and never giving up until the last drop of blood was spilt on the thirsty soil. A great cry was heard, the shouts of many voices, both male and female − courageous yet haunting voices from beyond the grave!

The Harp of Souls! Adem thought in stunned wonder.

Clouds billowed down the hallway around the feet of the three Souljhin. A wicked grey fog that moved with a hungry vigour. It covered the entire hallway in seconds.

A figure of light appeared behind the Souljhin. A tall man with large blue eyes and pointed ears. A silver crown upon his hair of shadows. Sword of golden light and armour blazing blue. Adem knew his name instantly – information passed to him from Arawn through the kigare – it was Taebrel Golden-Sabre! His coat and trousers were dark silk with bright blue boots and gauntlets. The figure was transparent and formed of fire, yet there was a real substance to his stance. As if he occupied the space with a physical presence that was stronger than any of the living men that stood nearby and watched.

The Souljhin hissed in agitation, seeming to sense the presence of the ghost without gazing upon him. Adem guessed they also sensed the force of these Heroes opposing their wicked might, even before the clouds had flowed about their feet like an omen of death.

Orion and Tobin appeared in the hallway behind the figure of light, as more ghostly figures flowed around them. A woman with dark hair tied in a thick braid like burning shadows. Her sword of silver glowed like a small star. It was Terese Sapphire-Sword − armour and gauntlets of shining crimson: dark coat and trousers, with red boots of pure flame. She danced about in front of Adem's view. Morphing from one side of the hall to the other to move around Tobin and Orion like some fairy phantom. Blade of white light tinged with blue, leaving a glow mark in Adem's vision whenever she moved from one place to another. Her eyes looked sad, filled with sorrow, though there was a fierceness to them also. Dark fires burned there that spoke of centuries of life experiences. Wisdom and pride clearly evident in the beautiful pale face of a Hero of Legend.

Two tall male figures wielded double-edged axes: the Battle-axe Brothers. Their armour and gauntlets shone with the same bright colours as their weapons. Shadow trousers and coats, with eyes of green and blue fire. The brothers were built like a pair of oxen standing upright on hind legs. Dark locks tied back in tails around wide but rectangular jaws. They gave Adem the impression of Stones that can Never be Moved, as they shimmered between a phantom glow and impenetrable muscle and might that would not shift if they were hit by a cannon ball. Massive double-bladed axes glowing pale green and aqua as if exuding cold menace. Aldebrand cloaks flowed around their muscular bulks that seemed to bond with darkness. Changing in colours to blend with the fog covered floor or fading to near invisible with the rise and fall of their chests.

Arig Flame-Bow stood in a cloak of blue silken flames—worked with red-and-golden runes upon the cuffs and hem and glowing sigils of dragons, lions and wolves—wearing a crimson mask worked with black runes similar to Arawn. Already this figure appeared somewhat cursed by the Jinn-Magic on teron. His form seemed to emanate shadows as it flickered between apparition and substance, his dark braided pony tail drinking in the light as his bow of crimson fire released a blurring wave of burning arrows—glowing like flying shafts of hot magma—that thudded into the black-plated armour of the three Souljhin who had turned at the sound of Orion's threatening cry.

The racinthen armour of the Souljhin absorbed the arrows though all three were pushed off balance by the attack. Blasts of bright light and a shuddering echo surrounded each demon as they huddled together and retreated, now slinking slowly towards Adem and his friends.

A woman appeared with bright blue eyes and two golden sword hilts above her dark blue breastplate. She drew the blades and roared like a fierce Brenda, as a man appeared beside her with a crimson shield and burning blade. Another morphed into view in golden armour, and he held a spear of bright flames.

The illuminated figures flowed along the clouds as spectres of light and shadows, to surround the demon men, launching into a blurring attack that encased the Souljhin in warps of burning energies. Their crimson blades flickering desperately as the Heroes began a fierce battle cry. It seemed then that the Souljhin were afraid. Facing warriors that had cheated Death.

There was no hope for the Souljhin; defending themselves for brief moments—for although the Souljhin were known as the Swordsmen of the Shadow, the speed and strength of those glowing ghost blades outpaced and outnumbered them—before they were cut to pieces. Bloody chunks of armour and flesh falling into the clouds below that glowed with images of skulls traced in shadows upon the grey light. Ki'mera orbs rose from the Souljhin that were consumed by the souls of the Heroes of Will.

Taebrel Golden-Sabre then spoke to Terese Sapphire-Sword and the Battle-axe Brothers, saying, 'Guard the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.'

'As you command, King Taebrel,' Terese replied. Taebrel and Arig Flame-Bow continued down the hallway, moving as if floating along the clouds, with more Heroes of Will appearing behind them – Taren Lightsblood; golden haired with her blue flaming spear, emerald armour, and red gauntlets. Jarien Stone-Spear; dark of hair and eyes with a spear of grey stone that shone with white light—the spear was said to have been light as a feather, perfectly balanced and that it never required sharpening, as it was crafted of ancient magic—his armour and gauntlets were crimson fire over a robe of silk shadows. Then dozens more of the ancient Heroes—Kobahl Eagle-Blade, Breeanna Golden-Arrow, Rocard Flame-Fist, Elizel Lightshield, Vohn Red-Hawk. Each figure shining with the light of Elemental Magic, and each one a ghost that had marched back from the Doors of Death. Summoned by the Harp of Souls. An ancient enchanted relic made by Odin during an early Age. Gifted to the First Bloods of immortal kin, for them to safeguard, but also to protect them. Warriors fell in countless battles against the Shadow, and those that were considered most worthy were shackled to the Hero Chains of the Shield of Fire, to be called upon in hours of direst need—as they took form and substance from beams and waves of glowing light, and they moved so fast Adem's eyes had trouble seeing and naming them all as they swept down the hallway and out of sight.

Adem felt a deep sorrow in the presence of these Heroes, knowing they had lived and died as a great sacrifice for this world he was also beginning to know and love. He felt the honour and bravery of that sacrifice, though their presence also brought emanations of a great sense of woe. To bear witness to living ghosts, who would fight here and now, and then return to the spirit world, chained to the Shield until they were called forth again. Adem had learnt enough to know that each of these warriors had lived such a fate countless times as they were churned out by the Great Cycle time and again. To be reborn and to live another life of good deeds and to die young, or old. In battle or betrayed by their enemies, but always for a great sacrifice. For the people of Kismeria, that remembered them as Heroes of Will, for which their names became Legend.

Chapter 6

The Heroes of Will

'Do not fear, Son of Odin,' Terese said in a posh tone. 'We will protect you.'

'Queen Elmira and Queen Lydia are safely protected within the Hall of Scriptures,' Tobin explained. It was the entrance to one of the Royal Libraries. 'We have warriors there also.'

'I feared you were in danger,' Orion said. 'These Heroes don't like to be summoned unless there is a great battle to be won. We urged them to assist us. We feared for your lives. We also would have needed them to rid Nordhel of the Souljhin. In this bold a move; it is clear our enemies have become desperate.'

They made their way back to the Hall of Scriptures. It was an entrance hall over fifty paces wide and twice as deep. Oak bookshelves as high as the ceilings lined the walls with large rolling ladders to reach higher shelves. The colourful spines of books filled every shelf, some with gold lettering on black leather-bound volumes. The roof was white plaster with gold cornices, and the floor was pale red-and-green marble.

Heroes of Will – both mortal and immortal – stood within the room. They were figures of glowing light. Enchanted beings that radiated both purity of spirit but also a kind of wrongness felt in the air. A conflict of the laws of space and time.

Duron Stoneskull stood like a thick muscled giant. Dark of hair with eyes burning emerald. A mace marked with runes of light in his massive fists.

Raeleene Red-Guard was strikingly beautiful. Large blue eyes like burning crystal and waves of golden curls flowing around her pale oval face. Her crimson cloak shimmered as she gripped a scarlet shield and silver blade marked by bright red runes.

Egron Blue-Fox stood like an unmovable mountain. Two golden sword hilts above his dark blue-armoured shoulders. His beard was white flame with thick fluffy spikes across his scalp. His eyes were rings of blue light around dark orbs that crackled with the menace of the walking dead, and many more, wielding weapons and wearing armour that shone like the moon and starlight. They were an enigma to behold, beings traced in form by pure energies that gave their hollow flesh a temporary solidity.

They were spread throughout the room amongst the Aldebrands, Alit'aren and Ael Tarael who surrounded Elmira and Lydia. They were a small company. Other than the Heroes there were only a handful of defenders, as if the rulers were caught completely unawares.

'The Souljhin will make one last attempt to strike at us here,' Tobin said. 'They'll come at us through the library and also from the hallway.'

'Get to the centre of the room,' Terese ordered. 'We'll form a shield.'

They made their way to the centre of the room with Ael Tarael, Alit'aren, and Aldebrands surrounding them. The two kings and two queens stood flanking them within the protective circles. Tobin wielding his sword Stonebreaker that glowed bright emerald. Orion wielding his golden blade Tigerclaw. In his other arm, Orion held the Harp of Souls. A golden instrument that fit neatly in the crook of his arm. An angel spreading its wings for the structure of the Harp.

Elmira and Lydia held balls of blue flame above their palms; they reminded him of anxious felines as they stood poised for action. It would be unwise for anyone to bring lightning from above or fire from the floor. The room would fall in around them. This would be a battle for the Heroes of Will to prove themselves. Clouds still flowed along the marble floor around the feet of the ghosts. He saw again skulls within the grey fog traced by silver light, as if other souls dwelt there. He sensed a raw energy emanating from that source also.

A tall male figure stood wielding a broadsword of burning mauve – Ruin Tamigol was encased in armour of shadows; coat and boots of shimmering dark blue silk and leather. His sword was known as Hawkblade. It was said the man had slain a thousand vampires in one night at the Battle of Kahmel Durthrok, when he fought at the head of the Wolf Guard protecting Queen Elsalos. Ruin emanated an emerald fire as the blade hovered at an angle, the ghost fading into transparency with one breath, then standing solid as stone the next.

A green-eyed female apparition with red-tinged golden hair, tied back in a thick braid, wielded a rapier blade of amber light. Tamira Goldeneagle! – holding a shield of blue and red with a spread winged eagle emblazoned on the burning steel surface. A white halo surrounded Tamira's form. The Golden Eagle sigil burned bright amber with the rise and fall of her breast. She was short, and slender, but there was extreme strength emanating from the Hero of Will, as if she contained a torrent of Angel-Magic within her soul.

The clash of blades was heard in the hallway outside followed by the roar of men being cut down by Souljhin blades. The locked and barred double doors were kicked three times from the outside. The iron hinges gave way and the doors collapsed with a heavy thud!

'They will never take the Saviours!' Tamira roared, as a dark-cloaked figure glided into the room—the cloak itself made from shadows as Adem detected that foul radiance of blight in the room. Pure evil flowing from the body of the Souljhin—followed by two more that moved with a serpentine sway. They hissed like snakes ready to strike as their jet-black eyes stared from within dark cowls, reflecting the light of burning blades. The Souljhin each wielded a dark longsword; glowing as if coated in burning blood.

The presence of the creatures seemed to wash over the entire host of defenders like some invisible plague infected their very souls. Evil incarnate that filled the air with a foulness similar to being afflicted by a swarm of wasps with deadly stings, an invisible swarm, that soaked their bones in a vileness that corroded courage and defiance.

Riol Darks-Bane stood in armour of white light and a cloak of burning shadows as he roared, 'They shall never have the Silver Stags!' Riol gripped a broadsword of dark steel. He hovered to Adem's left like some shadow phantom, eyes of deep blue that glowed like the runes of his blade. It seemed the ghost would not accept the draining force of fear exuding from these demons.

Aldebrands drew from teron; then released arrows of flame from their bows. Blasts of Angel-Magic impacting with a vibration in the air, stunning and delaying the Souljhin as the creatures hissed with cold menace. The Aldebrand arrows were released with fluid motion, as three men fired a half dozen each at the Souljhin in a blur of light. Suddenly the four Alit'aren and three Ael Tarael wielded balls burning blue, that they hurled at the chests of the creatures. Each blast absorbed by the dark-plated armour. Electric light encased their shadowed forms, yet the Souljhin shook off the attacks as if they were barely disturbed.

A female ghost shouted, 'Protect the White Snow Fox!'

Another male roared, 'The Sons must be preserved!'

Cinderlin cried at the top of her lungs, 'We shall bathe this ground in Souljhin blood!' The female spirit had hair that glimmered like snow, her eyes burning blue, and her words filled the air with a force to dominate over the evil radiance of the Souljhin.

Adem held on to Angel-Magic, the river of ecstasy flooding his veins, mixed with dark corrosion that seemed about to tear open his skull. His vision was heightened by teron; colours were brighter, shadows darker. He drew back on the string of his Lukrorian Bow, allowing a surge of Angel-Magic to flow into the arrow of blue. The arrow struck a tall Souljhin in a blast that was swallowed by the dark armour. The creature stumbled as a dark-coated Alit'aren threw a bolt of lightning at its skull.

The bolt sent the Souljhin slinking back a step. Riol rushed in to grasp the creature by the throat, driving his blade through its chest armour, after Cinderlin had hacked off its sword arm. Riol drew the blade from its chest to swing high as he left the Souljhin bent forwards, bringing the sword down to decapitate the creature in a spray of dark blood! The Souljhin thrashed wildly even after Riol cut its head from its shoulders, the skull rolling amongst the grey fog that seemed to hungrily absorb flesh and bones. This move enraged the other Souljhin standing in the chamber. Their evil forces doubled in magnitude, exuding corruption that would leave most men dribbling in a puddle of their own waste.

Adem could see that the Heroes of Will were impervious to the Souljhin blades, though they held back as if their priority was to form a defensive shield around the Saviours. Riol and Cinderlin quickly morphed back into position to guard Adem's flank, with a host of other Heroes forming a strong perimeter.

—A loud crash filled the air behind Adem. He turned after shouts of warning. The doors lay cleaved in two as four dark-cloaked figures fanned out into a line, crimson burning blades dangling from black gauntleted claws. The tallest drew back the dark cowl that covered its face to reveal pasty white skin, warts and boils, and a long beak-shaped nose. Its pointed ears were similar to the immortals only larger. Its eyes were large black seeds filled with menacing hatred. A wave of corruption radiated from the six Souljhin standing within the room that was overwhelming to say the least! It felt as if a claw of ice was reaching into his chest to crush his beating heart.

Even with teron flooding his veins, Adem felt weakened by that force, as he harnessed Angel-Magic to release another arrow. The shaft of light smashing into the skull of the Souljhin with its face bared. The blast seemed barely felt by the creature. It hissed in irritation before flowing towards him with its sword raised. Riol and Cinderlin rushed in, to cross swords with the creature. The other Souljhin attempted to infiltrate the heart of their defences. Terese stood guard on Jean's right flank, though her burning white blade was soon engaged against a swift moving enemy. Tamira and a ghost wielding a pale green staff struck at the creature on its flanks. Battering it into submission before Terese hacked off its skull.

Tobin was defending Carl and Wil, blade of emerald light swiping with fluid speed to hack off Souljhin limbs and skulls. More began to flow in through the library doorway and front entrance. Lydia and Elmira unleashed waves of Pixie Wardens that moved like lightning bolts to strike Souljhin in the chests and skulls. Blasting the creatures with an electric glow of Angel-Magic, sometimes to devastating effect. Souljhin fell to their knees with gaping holes in their breastplates, burned right through! Orion seemed less skilled, defending with one hand to protect his wife—though Adem sensed when Tobin and Orion formed a link. Emerald Lions and Golden Tigers morphed into view within the chamber. Dragging Souljhin to their knees to bite off skulls. Shredding through armour with burning claws; the hall suddenly filled with their deafening roars—as chaos reigned with lightning and fire flying from the fists of every Alit'aren and Ael Tarael. Aldebrands unleashed a blur of flaming arrows as more Souljhin flowed in from both sides – there were sixteen of them still standing – their red swords clashing with the blades of the Heroes of Will. Bright energies battered their dark armour and set their shadow cloaks alight.

Adem cased his bow and drew his sword.

Jean cried, 'Tanriel!' Red-glowing spears flew outwards in all directions to skewer the dark armour of the Souljhin; red lightning erupted, and spider webbed across their flesh to reduce the creatures to skeletons of red flames. Ki'mera orbs floated towards Jean as the burning skeletons collapsed to their knees and exploded.

Adem cried, 'Arawn!' Eight fully grown male lions appeared in a circle around the defences, pushing Souljhin to the floor and biting off their skulls. Adem was half in shock at the size of the roaring beasts with their golden-brown coats of fur and thick dark manes. Arawn's cloak of shadows rose from the forms of two lions. Broadsword of red flames slicing Souljhin heads from shoulders.

More Souljhin rushed into the room from both doorways; twenty-five, then thirty, then a swarm of dark-cloaked figures that threatened to draw the light from the room. Lions roared, and Flame Spears flew around the room as the two Battle Angels began to Link. Wil shouted, 'Eledisren,' as Carl cried, 'Math Mathonwy!'

Crows filled the room, squawking and pecking at large dark Souljhin eyes. Hounds with dark-furred coats like giant wolves appeared, forcing Souljhin to the ground. Biting off skulls. Filling the chamber with deafening barks and roars. They took down Souljhin like helpless victims, razor sharp claws shredding through armour. Elemental Fires incinerating flesh and bone in bright burning colours.

The dark form of Dis Pater and Math Mathonwy's figure of light took shape as the four Battle Angels formed a Link. There was no lightning or tornado this time; only an increase in the speed and ferocity of attacks from the Crows, Lions, and Hounds. Tanriel hovering above the battle, throwing dozens more Flame Spears that stripped flesh from Souljhin bones. The presence of so many huge Spirit Wardens was intimidating even for those they were protecting. The beasts of magic seemed to inspire true fear in the hearts of their enemies, though they did not relent. They continued to pour into the chamber in waves, despite so many being ripped apart, melted into slag or burnt to ashes.

The three male Battle Angels secured the defences on three sides. Swings of their golden axe, crimson spear and flaming blade almost spanned the width of each section of the triangle of their defences. Hacking through Souljhin in sprays of dark blood. Severing limbs, slicing torsos in half and sending skulls flying. Math, Arawn and Eledisren seemed to revel in the madness of unrelenting carnage.

Dis Pater split a Souljhin skull, slicing down in the form of Crescent Moon, swinging sideways to cut straight through the chest of two more. Math decapitated three Souljhin in a dark spray. Arawn hacked off the sword arms of two, with the form known as Double Crescent. He swung again to cleave off their skulls, cutting down three more with a savage hack and slash through chests and torsos. This is what Adem saw in the seconds he managed to look around while Flame Spears continued to fly, burning flesh from bone as bodies collapsed; exploding into dust!

Yet the flow of Souljhin continued to pour into the chamber with a dominant vehemence. Hounds and Lions moved through their ranks in a wild display of bloodthirsty slaughter, shredding through breastplates like tinfoil. Black blood spurting from the wounds before the beasts chewed faces off. Or devoured entire skulls in savage horrid gulps!

A murder of Crows punched at individual Souljhin like some giant black fist to smash the creatures into the shelved walls, blasting bodies apart on impact. Others pecked out eyeballs in bloodied snapping beaks. They clawed at faces to distract the overwhelming flow of enemies, but despite this, Adem could see they would not have survived without the Heroes of Will; still holding off the remaining Souljhin that slunk through the paths of the Battle Angels' attacks.

Blades of the Heroes surrounded Adem and his companions in a blurring of rapid slashes, clashing with Souljhin in combat, while other Heroes used that moment to sever skulls and cut off sword arms, or hands or even cut them down at the knees, or ankle slashes. Followed by frantic downwards stabbing motions when the creatures finally fell. Anything to defeat the surging masses. Hacking with such speed and force that the fog below was fed a hundred times over with congealed chunks of pale demon flesh.

Orion held the Harp of Souls to pluck the three strings again ... the sound seemed to shake the walls. Clear, sharp notes that resonated over the barking of Hounds and the roaring of Lions. A great roar was heard – the Souljhin cringing at the sound – the cries of dead souls, though it was filled with valour.

Dozens more figures of light began to appear around Adem and his friends, fifty, eighty, over a hundred Heroes of Will! Taebrel Golden-Sabre was there with Arig Flame-Bow – the strings of the Harp calling them back to its source – along with other Heroes of Legend.

Tron Ironfist was there in his crimson cloak wielding an axe of blue flames, along with Abigail Tormeidhellin – with large blue eyes and a thick dark braid – in glowing white plated armour with a bow of burning aqua.

Rodin Cloud-Walker wore a silver crown, and a gown of emerald light worked with golden runes; wielding bolts of lightning hurled from a spear of blue fire; tearing gaping holes through Souljhin armour. Dark of hair and eyes with a true Nordic face and hooked nose like an eagle's beak. The First King roared with fury at the demon scourge. Adem knew them all, their names and their histories, the battles they won, how they lived, and how they had died.

Arawn told him everything in a flood of images – some that formed names and words – as his gaze passed over their ghostly forms. Emerald eyed Imogen Herochain, her blue rune marked blade slashing at Souljhin with impossible speeds. Maerian Snowstorm; silver spear slicing through demon armour and flesh. Rihon Red-Hawk, cloak of blood red with a black mask worked with silver. A blurring of silver arrows flying from his bow of white fire.

Then suddenly something else changed. Arms and hands formed of the grey fog began to rise up out of the floating haze below, dragging Souljhin victims down to feed the hungry souls of countless other dead. Wailing and moans filled the air, like some zombie apocalypse, as the fog began to rise. Screams of Souljhin being ripped apart filled the air, and even the Lions, Hounds and Tigers seemed confused in those clouds that seemed to block out anything from view even a few feet ahead.

Dis Pater reached behind to grasp a slinking Souljhin that had slipped past his defences. Hurling the creature to the floor as he placed his double-bladed axe head against its neck. Pushing down on the back of the blade with one foot—as if digging with a shovel—as the Souljhin skull was cut free with a crunching sound. Dark blood feeding the grey mist that rose up around the fallen body like the jaws of a famished beast.

Math Mathonwy skewered two assassins with the Hellfire Spear—right through the chest—then whipped the crimson blade across to decapitate another three with Corn Harvest. Arawn brought his blade down on an angle to hack through chest and torso of three more Souljhin that collapsed with burning wounds through their armour and flesh. Hounds and Lions picked off the outsiders, pouncing to crush the demon-men under heavy paws. Claws shredded flesh and bone as waves of burning crust appeared within the wounds.

Egron Blue-Fox and the Battle-axe Brothers had also guarded Carl and Wil on their left flank, unrelenting in their displays of magic and mastery of weapons, cutting down dozens of Souljhin in a matter of seconds. It seemed as if their swarming masses would never cease. Rune marked blades, shining armour and cloaks of shadow surrounded the Sons and Daughter and their small band of defenders. Heroes held off the remaining assault with blades whirling to create a glowing halo of light and energy. Elemental Magic forming a shield out of the exertion of long dead warriors that would not give up the lives of Adem, Jean, Carl and Wil.

It seemed the hungry mist had also slowed down the attack, as the flow of Souljhin steadily decreased—yet for a time Adem watched in awe as Riol and Cinderlin morphed through the fog, their blades of light burning like viperous steel to hack down enemies in rapid motion. Breeanna fired her golden arrows with fluid speed, blasting skulls apart in dark sprays. Heroes moved through the daunted enemy ranks to cut them down with phantom blades; ki'mera orbs flickered in the haze, feeding the Heroes and their deadly fog—until it was declared safe within the chamber. After the remaining skulking creatures were ripped apart by Angels and Heroes. Many times, Adem had watched those dark cloaked shadows approaching through the rising grey mist, only to be pulled down by Hound or Lion and torn to bleeding chunks; or taken victim by a floating apparition that slit their throats with glowing steel. Tanriel's Spears punched through breastplates to set shadowed figures alight with crackling red bolts of energy; vaporizing flesh and blood!

The battle was still not over however, and after a short rest, the defenders became hunters. They moved through the halls in search of any Souljhin remaining and causing havoc.

The Battle Angels returned to their Resting Points, and Adem, Jean, Carl, and Wil joined the search with Alit'aren, Ael Tarael and Aldebrands joining their ranks as they progressed throughout the palace. Only a dozen or more Souljhin were found and those retreated into the shadows in fear of the Heroes of Will.

Adem did not come face to face with that very tall Souljhin during their search, and he was more than glad of it, but he would need to find out what that particular one was named, if it was known. The image of the creature seen in his mind and the memory of evil radiance he had felt was enough to bring shivers to his bones.

There were heavy casualties however − over a hundred Aldebrands, two hundred soldiers, and eighty guards poisoned by the Souljhin blades that brought a swift death. The bodies became swollen and black – like an entire body bruise – as the poison flowed through the veins of those cut by Jinn-Magic blades. Adem felt sickened by those sights. His heart bled to know that such noble, wise and kind warriors of immortal blood had given their souls to protect three men and one woman, who up till now still had no idea how they were expected to win this battle of good versus evil.

The Immortal Kings and Queens were also there, and they viewed every fatality with the sorrow that only a ruler could feel the full burden of. Orion and Tobin often knelt to close the eyelids of those that still had faces glaring in defiance. Lydia and Elmira walked with palms in prayer position or made other holy signs as if to ward off evil and give credence for their sacrifice.

'So many brave souls, lost.' Elmira said when close to tears.

'They died for a great cause,' Tobin boomed in reply, though there was deep sorrow in his voice.

'We will sing songs of praise at their funeral pyres,' Lydia said, raising a handkerchief to blot a tear falling from her left eye. 'Their sacrifice shall not be forgotten.'

'I will arrange sufficient compensation for their families,' Tobin said. 'To ensure their loved ones will not starve, though their sorrow will last an eternity.'

The Heroes of Will returned to the Harp when Tobin decided the attack had ended. Rodin Cloud-Walker assured them they were gladdened to fight to protect the lives of the Saviours, before their forms were consumed by the golden Harp in a swirl of clouds and fire.

All except for two, Terese Sapphire-Sword and Arig Flame-Bow remained.

Terese's armour and Arig's silk robe had lost most of its shine, simply reflecting light now rather than emanating it; however, their enchanted weapons still glowed brightly.

'What has happened to us?' Terese asked, her mouth hanging open.

The two kings and queens looked at each other with concern before Elmira suggested, 'Perhaps you have been released from the Hero Chain ... to serve as bodyguards to the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. It would be a great honour, would it not?'

'Released?' Terese asked in confusion. 'We have always been bound to the Hero Chain, for every life we have lived. What will become of us now that we are free?'

'It may have been the work of the Battle Angels,' Tobin said. 'Perhaps their Link in Angel-Magic has severed you from the Shield of Fire. Perhaps it is a new Chain that was forged to return you both to living flesh.'

'But if we are now flesh and bone,' Arig said, 'then surely we would have served a greater purpose being bound to the Harp of Souls.'

'Perhaps the Great Angels saw greater use for you here, with us,' Lydia said. 'We have need of great battle strategists, you were known as a great general in your lifetime, Arig Reiden-Hold. You are also known as a great battle tactician, Terese Marheildon. You will be of great value to us.'

***

The bodies of the dead were placed on wood piles—the following evening—that filled the centre of the Courtyard to the Royal Stables. The palace walls of Nordhel rising to the west side, and castle walls surrounding the courtyard that was well lit with lanterns all around. The dead were set alight via Angel-Magic, harnessed by Alit'aren and Ael Tarael—that was said to purify the infected flesh and reduce the noxious stench normal flames would allow—with a large gathering of wielders, Aldebrands and other soldiers and palace guards paying tribute to their sacrifice. A feeling of great woe was felt by all who were present, at the tragic loss of such worthy warriors.

Carl's chest ached at the beautiful Elven Songs that filled the night air, in ancient Nordic, Torvellen, Dremelden and Ruhalden Tongue. Each of the Four Clans took their turn to sing their songs of praise. Some songs were sung together, with a mixture of male and female voices, as well as a combination of the different languages, while an orchestra of over one hundred played with enchanted rhythm and melody.

Carl had felt quite hopeless in that battle, perhaps too afraid to wield Angel-Magic in an attempt to do more. It was also because he still lacked enough strength in teron to have lent any real assistance against an army of Souljhin. He had known during those desperate moments that his Battle Angel was the only real help he could provide.

He stood in Alit'aren black with a straight back; gazing at the burning pyres with a deep sorrow. He believed he felt the loss of these lives more severely than Adem, who stood at his right side with a confused expression, as if his daily Healing had not been enough to rid him of his symptoms of latent madness.

Jean also wept, as did Lydia and Elmira by her side. The Queen of Nordhel and Tarvel joined in the singing, as did their husbands, though the Sons and Daughter simply listened. As if fearing their voices may stain the grandeur and divinity of such pure and dignified songs. Despite their capacity to know the words if only requested from their Battle Angels, who also provided many interpretations of the ancient Tongues.

The songs were derived from various Ages, some from the Age of Heroes. These were chosen to honour the sacrifice of these men that had given their lives, by singing of the days of the Great Heroes of Old. Including the Starborn Alliance of the Age of Heroes, of whom many of the ghosts that had been summoned from the Harp of Odin were once members. Ruin, Riol, Cinderlin, even Terese and Arig in one of their many reincarnations had been counted amongst the Alliance. Warriors of extraordinary abilities, responsible for the many wonders of that Age.

The two former ghosts also stood close by, though Arig still had not revealed his face beneath that shining rune marked mask, and Terese's face was controlled to hide any emotion. They also joined in for many of the songs, though when the Songs of the Starborn Alliance were sung, they remained silent, and Carl believed it was because these songs brought memories that would reveal their emotions too deeply, if they allowed their voices to be heard.

Other songs were meant to be a guiding force to light the way to the High Realm, so that no souls would remain lost in the Middle Realm or suffer the fate of being consumed by the Underworld. Carl felt these songs were the most moving, heartbreaking laments that stirred the soul into moments of woe or bliss, but also great compassion for the loss of such brave warriors. These songs were sung by each of the Four Clans, but each clan taking part in different stages of the tribute, and a harmonizing of male and female singers that brought colourful images to his mind, reminding him of his own mortality, and the duty he was yet to fulfil.

Despite the courtyard being well lit, there was a definite tension amongst all who were gathered also, as if everyone was on edge about the possibility of a second strike by Jinn-Fendinn, especially now while they were deep in mourning. Aldebrand and Alit'aren gazes flickered left and right as if expecting Souljhin to appear at any moment, and Ael Tarael wore faces of sorrow mixed with evident concern over the same fears. This attack was unlike anything these people had ever experienced before.

Rooms were kept well-lit even when sleeping in the case of immortals, although mortals usually found it impossible to sleep this way, and so rooms had been dimly lit at night within the palace of Nordhel and all the major cities since the Age of the First Men, also known as the Age of Mortals. Yet there were few events on record like the previous night, when the Jinn-Lord had thrown such a powerful fist against them, and Carl feared it was because Jinn-Fendinn had never been more motivated, until the arrival of the Sons and Daughter, who he evidently had chosen to destroy rather than turn.

If in death Carl and his Brothers were forced to serve Fendinn, he could see from witnessing the spirits of the Heroes of Will, that the souls of the Sons could still bring great harm to these people and their world. It was perhaps for this reason that Fendinn had decided the Sons would still adequately serve him, as ghosts.

Carl and Wil grew in their abilities, practicing and learning many of the same magic techniques as Adem. Tohver Silgurd taught Carl most often, but also Wil much of the time also. Today both Carl and Wil were learning Angel-Magic to increase the enchantment of their weapons, seated in a sort of small library chamber. An open fireplace of black marble worked into shapes like sea horses and fish writhing in tumultuous seas at the base and dark clouds with sea birds flying at the top, yet, where the marble was closest to the flames, the fish took forms of demons, and the birds morphed into angels.

Tohver spoke in a deep tone typical of all Nordic males, his grey tinged moustache and fluffy spiked white beard fit well on his muscular jaw and neckline, dressed in Alit'aren black today as he was most days, with the Lion, Wolf and Dragon pins on his high black collar. 'You must allow teron to bleed into your spear, Carl Wilder,' the man said, a dutiful teacher with open warmth for his pupils, 'likewise for you, Wil Martyr. Harness Angel-Magic like a flood of water soaking into your bones. Siphon that energy from your spirit to wield the energies into the spear and axe. You must craft Angel-Magic to guide and shape your desired outcome within the enchantment!'

'I'm having some difficulty, Master Tohver,' Carl admitted, as he fumbled with the spells without a significant understanding of how he was supposed to craft them, despite several instructions from both Tohver and also Math Mathonwy via the kigare.

'I am also having a bit of trouble,' Wil admitted. Carl glanced at the spells his friend was creating to note that Carl at least had a more substantial grip on the concept. Yet they both lacked true insight into what they were expected to achieve. When he voiced these thoughts, Tohver said, 'There are many options open to you both. You may wish to increase the capacity for Destruction-Magic via teron, making the spear a more powerful weapon. Or you could choose to increase the relationship between yourself and the spear to the benefit of greater endurance and dexterity when wielding for long periods of time, and this would provide similar abilities to the gift harnessed by all disciplined Aldebrands.

'Another option would be to increase the potential for creating Healing-Spells and other rejuvenation magic via your spear or axe, and this would be achieved with the third variation of Angel-Spells I demonstrated earlier.

'So, which of these three do you wish to achieve first and foremost, Carl Wilder?'

Carl thought about that for some time before he replied, 'It would seem most important to be better equipped to cause damage to our enemies, I suppose. But wouldn't it also be just as vital to increase my ability to perform Healing upon my fellow wielders and warriors via teron?'

Tohver's bushy grey eyebrows rose in surprise as he gazed at Carl with wonder and apparent fondness. 'Wise words, my pupil, for you speak of the conundrum all wielders face when they must choose which ways to craft their enchanted weaponry. Do we make ourselves better warriors, capable of destruction and might, or do we focus on Healing spells, or rejuvenation? But remember, there are a myriad of other spells and incantations that can be improved with different weapon enchantments. It is up to you to choose the most vital, and beneficial. Not just for you but for all you hope to protect, if you are noble enough to see that as your responsibility!' He finished in a tone of restrained excitement.

'So, what do we choose?' Wil asked in bewilderment.

At this question Tohver did not appear so fond or appreciative. He lowered his brows to speak with some sympathy as he replied, 'Wil Martyr, you are perhaps my least favourite pupil, for you have just now failed to even understand what I have told you quite clearly.

'The choice is yours entirely; but choose with careful consideration of the benefits and the disadvantages. Ki'mera is a precious source of magic, and difficult to procure, for it is only obtained when defeating demons.

'So, I ask you again, which of these three do you choose, with the hope that it will be of greatest benefit for the future?'

'I choose to improve my capacity for Healing-Magic,' Carl said, as Wil stared at his axe and then at his teacher again with greater apprehension.

'Well done, Carl Wilder,' Tohver practically beamed with pleasure. 'You are a much faster learner, and I say that this choice suits what I have learnt of your personality, and your beliefs.' Carl felt a little awkward from all the praise, as he saw it was doing no good for Wil.

'I will choose to improve Destruction-Magic,' Wil said finally. 'It is best suited to my personality.' He continued the spell with a somewhat satisfied grin.

'If you say so, Wil Martyr, so long as you have learnt to make the decision for yourself, and for that I give you praise also. Well done.'

Carl began to wonder whether his over enthusiastic finishes were a sign that Tohver was also becoming susceptible to Jinn-Magic on teron. Madness appeared in many forms, though he did not know the man before Jinn-Magic became so concentrated, so he did not have that knowledge to compare it with the man's current behaviour.

As a trained scientist, Carl had some basic knowledge of psychology, and he used this as a daily focus of meditating upon the behaviours of all male wielders he met, but his primary focus was always upon Adem, and how long he could remain reasonably sane without his daily medication.

Carl and Wil shared emotions of joy and pain while holding teron in their veins, revitalizing lightning and corrupt viscous filth flowed through each of them while they worked the spells into their desired patterns. Each one working in very different forms, yet the required hold on Angel-Magic brought equal sensations of pure pleasure and sheer revulsion.

Carl saw a beam of light like an aura around his friend while wielding the Angel-Magic. As well as the colourful filaments of energy that flowed from Wil's hands and body to enter the enchanted axe, that glowed bright amber with a halo of resonance of its own that was beyond its normal shine. Wil would see the same aura of blue-white light around Carl, as Carl returned his focus to his own Angel-Magic that flowed from his fingers, arms and chest in swirling waves of colour shining with vast intensity as they entered the spear, that also shone bright crimson. He felt the bond between himself and the weapon increasing, and at the same time he sensed his own capacity for Healing-Spells improving by a significant margin.

The assembly of the spells were mostly guided by Math Mathonwy now, though his Battle Angel admitted he was never known for being exceptional with Healing-Magic. Math was a Spirit Warden of Chaos and Bloodshed. His Hellfire Spear and his Hounds of Hell were unrelenting destruction, savage but disciplined in the Art of War. This had been a great advantage to Carl in the two battles he had already faced, yet Carl felt assured that his own real purpose here was to learn to become a great Magician of Healing.

His ultimate desire and aim would be to learn a fast and effective way to reverse the effects of being cut by those tainted Souljhin and Hex-Warlord blades.

The fact that Fire-Magic could be used to purify the dead was a vital clue. He felt that if he could discover a cure, and teach it to others, it would bring hope and courage at times when these people so often faced terrible fear and doubt.

***

Adem fell more deeply in love with Jean though she seemed distant and focused on her training as the winter months progressed.

During the first week of heavy snow, Adem waited for Jean on the balcony each night, but she never came. When he passed her in the hallways the following week, she told him, 'I was busy,' then proceeded past him with her nose in the air. Adem tried to tell himself that it was nothing to be concerned about, but those moments he shared with Jean were the few times each day that he was able to see her.

His chest began to ache for her soft touch and warm kisses; her big blue eyes staring into his, that feeling of belonging to someone, a life with meaning. She was younger than him, four years younger to be exact, but he was certain that was not what had changed her attitude. He wondered if it was Terese Sapphire-Sword filling her mind with stories about great warrior women who forgot to ward off a man's affections and subsequently found themselves with child. That seemed the most likely once he had the idea in his mind, though he was not certain it was the reason she had removed herself from his life.

Elmira and Lydia were concerned about their relationship, though they did not ban them from seeing one another. This was different, someone had changed her thoughts; her altered behaviour was the result.

Later that week as he became desperate, he confronted her when they were alone in a corridor with red-coated guards standing at either end of the hall. He pulled her to an alcove, between two polished oak tables with bright flowers in porcelain vases. 'What has changed between us? Don't you love me anymore?'

Jean glared at him before she replied, 'I still love you, Adem. I just ... don't know that we should be spending so much time together. Terese says it will interfere with my training, my concentration is lacking, and she says it's your fault.'

Adem sighed at her confession before saying, 'So it is Terese who has changed your thinking.' He thought to himself; I knew it!

'Terese wants me to be the greatest Brenda in the history of Kismeria,' Jean said. 'I can't think straight when I'm thinking of you, Adem. It's too much emotion. I'm just a young woman too! Terese says I'm too young for a serious relationship.'

She started to pout at the end with arms crossed under her breasts. She wore a red silk blouse and short skirt with golden silk trousers and crimson leather boots. With her golden braid shining in the lantern light, she looked enchanted.

'We come from a very different time and place to these people, Jean,' Adem said. 'Especially Terese, she's older than ... Queen Cleopatra! Please just tell me you will meet me on the balcony tonight. I have to see you. I need you, Jean.' He leaned forward to kiss her lips, but she pushed him away as she began to take strides down the hall towards one of the guards.

'If you want to see me, you will have to wait for me, Adem Highlander!' Jean said. 'I have so much on my mind right now. I just don't have the time. I'm sorry.' Then she was taking great strides to reach the protective barrier of the armed guard. Tallis Rogrothar was his name; the way he admired Jean in her tight trousers made Adem wonder if immortals sometimes mated with mortals. That was something he would need to discuss with Tobin in their next meeting.

'I understand, Jean,' he said. 'I'm sorry too, for confusing you.' She stepped back into the hallway to peer at him around the sleeve of the immortal guard.

'Frustrating me is how I would put it,' she said with a sly grin. Her fingers wound around the guard's elbow. Tallis wore an expression that suggested he wished he were somewhere else at that moment – he actually began to blush! Immortals were modest creatures. 'Time should be no burden to you, Adem,' Jean said in a soft but lecturing tone. 'After all, we have all the time in the world.' With that, she smiled and ducked behind Tallis again to disappear down the hall.

Adem stood there feeling alone with his thoughts until Tallis offered, 'Perhaps flowers before kisses next time, Adem Highlander.' This was Adem's turn to blush, with guilt and shame. Though, he grinned at the tall golden-haired immortal before he replied, 'Thank you, Tallis. That is sound advice. Forgive my ignorance. It has been many years since I last tried to kiss a woman.' Then he realised how stupid he would sound saying that to an immortal. It had been explained to him that immortals usually only ever found one partner in their lifetime. Tallis probably had not even found his future wife yet, though the man still had the sense to recommend flowers.

As if the guard had read his thoughts, Tallis said, 'My mother always told me, "Make a pathway of rose petals to lead your lady love to your heart.'' That was her advice in regard to taming a woman with fire in her heart. Jean Fairsythe has a heart that burns like the sun.' He gave a sheepish grin at the last. Adem was beginning to be more than a little concerned about Tallis's apparent fondness for Jean.

Later that day, he sat at lunch with Carl and Wil with Aldebrands and Alit'aren standing along the walls. Meals were always provided with just a little more than they would be willing to eat. Adem had been disgusted at the extravagance of the feasts provided to them in their first weeks at Nordhel, and he had insisted that the cooks cater for a much smaller stomach. The result was plates of sliced meat, breads, and cheeses that satisfied their hunger with little going to waste.

King Tobin insisted anything they did not eat during a feast was shared among the servants and that 'the servants looked forward to eating what was left over.' Adem would not have it, however. He felt that if they prepared less, there would be more leftover for the servants, though Tobin always disagreed with his logic.

'What are you worried over?' Carl asked Adem. 'I have not seen my wife in over three months! If she had perceived those three months as more than a day or two, she would be worried out of her wits for me by now. I sincerely hope this time difference theory of King Orion's is accurate. Otherwise, there will be a search party out for us, you mark my words.' Adem sat brooding over the fact that Jean was avoiding him; he had related this fact to his friends more often than he cared to think.

'Stop worrying about the time differences,' Adem said. 'If Orion is anywhere near accurate in his theory, there will be no search party. We need to concentrate on our training. Tohver says you are both improving in your ability to wield, though he fears something is blocking your true potentials.'

Adem still obtained his Healing every day from Lira Tolnock or one of the other Ael Tarael to reduce his symptoms. The Sickness, they said, was growing stronger in his mind as a result of wielding Jinn-Magic. Adem suspected it was also the fact that he had not had his medication in over three months. Carl and Wil still refused any Healing-Magic though Lira insisted they would require it in the months and years that followed. 'Jinn-Magic will drive you into madness,' she would tell them, 'and there is no way to guard against it.'

Adem began to notice slight changes in his own behaviour, mood swings, nervousness, anxiety, and stress. Each morning he checked his eyes in the washstand mirror to see if the Darkness was returning to his mind. He noticed slight changes in his friends also; they often seemed distracted in their thoughts, brooding or discontent. He began to worry for them all.

Arig Flame-Bow told them he feared Jinn-Magic would infect them all sooner than later, and he referred to the entire male population of wielders.

'Perhaps I was sent here to monitor these changes,' Arig mused. 'There has never been anything like this high concentration of Jinn-Magic in any of my memories, though there may be information I hold that could help us find a way to avoid its affects.'

'What about a cure?' Carl asked.

'That is possible.' Arig considered. 'Though the trick would be finding out whether it is you three who must be cured to cleanse Angel-Magic, or whether Angel-Magic itself must be cured.'

Arig had worn the mask for days before revealing his long chiselled face and pointed jaw. His gaze often was soft, contemplative. He had tanned skin, and dark hair clasped with a crimson ring. He was of the Torvellen clan of immortals in his former life as Arig Reiden-Hold. He revealed to Adem that in another life he was of the Nordic clan. Kierel Red-Bow was his name in that Age; his wife had died at the hands of a Souljhin during the Boli-Kuldr Wars.

Arig explained that, 'A Boli-Kuldr would have just slain my wife, but Souljhin like to force themselves upon a woman, before they pass them to the Boli-Kuldr cauldrons.' Adem gasped in horror. He felt a deep sorrow for Arig's memories. It must have been a heavy burden to remember so much pain.

The day after seeing Jean in the hallway, Adem was confronted by Terese Sapphire-Sword. He heard her high heels clipping the marble floor as she stalked towards him with fire in her eyes.

'Adem Highlander!' she said in a tone that reminded him of his childhood when his mother would seize him by the ear for some measure of strife. He turned to stand with a stiff back, holding out his chest to emphasize that he was one of the Chosen. Terese met his gaze with a burning fury as she explained in a careful tone, 'You will cease your pursuit of Jean Fairsythe immediately. You will not pull her into corners to attempt to kiss her. You will not fool with her fragile mind with your words of love and devotion. And you will no longer meet with her on moonlit balconies ... do you understand?'

Her tone at the last promised a Hero's wrath if her demands were not followed to the letter. She wore an emerald silk coat that hung to her hips embroidered with golden flowers, baggy blue woollen trousers and knee-high green leather boots. One hand resting on the hilt of her enchanted blade hanging from her sword belt. She was of the Nordic clan of immortals in her previous life, a slender brunette, strikingly beautiful.

'I hear your words and I shall consider what you have told me,' Adem managed to say though his tone revealed the caution of one who knew the Legends of Terese Sapphire-Sword. 'Might I request that you pass a message to her from me?' he asked with some manner of dignity. Terese sniffed loudly before she replied, 'What do you wish her to know?'

'Tell her that I hope she accomplishes her dreams,' Adem said. The fire cooled in those large dark eyes before the woman replied, 'Wise words, Adem Highlander. I shall relay your message.' Her heels clipped against the pavement as she swiftly stalked away, leaving Adem alone to brood.

The next time he passed Jean in the hallway, she was with Terese and Queen Lydia. He stood silently while all three women looked at him as if he were a complete fool, before he bowed deeply; flourishing his Aldebrand cloak that − he was certain − would be hiding part of his form, because at that moment he did not want to be seen! The women nodded when he straightened; Jean looked hurt. He realised then he could have offered some kind words, for Jean at least. He stumbled onwards with a heavy heart.

In the weeks that followed, Adem focused all his frustration and anger into his sword practice. The Nordic Agnars were considered the best in the Free Lands. Kailus Broeduthar taught Adem most days using wooden practice blades, though they used steel for three hours at least once a week. Kailus was tall and solid with a wide chest and a closely cropped black beard with drooping moustaches. He reminded Adem of a bear, though with the sword he was even more dangerous than a charging grizzly.

'Angel-Magic is a great weapon,' Kailus would say to Adem. 'But if you are drained of the strength to wield, Angel-Magic is useless. Your blade will then be your only defence. A true Agnar can face twenty Boli-Kuldr and still emerge the victor. You must become as worthy in your swordsmanship.'

Working with Angel-Magic was something very different. You did not drip with sweat, your muscles did not ache, and you did not hunger or thirst. Seizing Angel-Magic was like grappling with the horns of a charging bull; teron was a raging storm of ice and an avalanche of fire. Teron needed to be controlled once Angel-Magic flowed through you, like teaching the bull to dance once you gripped it by the horns. Any slight slip in that fight for control could result in losing the ability to wield Angel-Magic forever. The Alit'aren also warned that a loss of control could result in unleashing Angel-Magic by accident which could harm or kill those around you.

For this reason, the three Sons of Odin usually always practiced wielding teron in separate areas of the Palace Courtyard. In the beginning, only three Alit'aren would monitor their practice, though as the months progressed, their strength in Angel-Magic grew, and so the number of Alit'aren increased to ensure Adem and his friends could be shielded if they ever lost control of teron. Seven Alit'aren were stationed around them now after nearly four months training.

Chapter 7

The Daughter of Thor

Jean stood on one of the grey stone balconies overlooking the Royal Courtyard. The thick layers of snow were pushed back in neat circles to expose the paved stone in places. That was where the Alit'aren and Agnars trained the Sons of Odin. The circles were twenty paces in diameter in some cases, with four-feet-high walls of snow pushed up around the edges.

The wind was like ice as it passed through her blue woollen cloak, and white silk coat and skirt worked with black fox embroidery. She wore thick white stockings and her blue leather boots were fur lined, but still she barely resisted the urge to shiver. Ignoring the heat and cold was something she learnt from her Ael Tarael instructors. They told her that her 'sense of temperature is a state of mind and can be ignored through disciplined training.'

Part of that training was vigorous exercise in the early stages though for the most part it simply required the skill of switching off the senses that felt heat or cold. Adem insisted he had already learnt this trick before they arrived in Kismeria, but Adem was always boasting of his many talents. He was a ridiculous oaf most of the times he decided to speak.

She watched him battle against three Aldebrands armed with practice swords. Despite how much he managed to get under her skin, her breath still caught when she watched him move through the forms taught to him by Kailus and the other Aldebrands. She knew many of the names of those forms from her own sword training. Terese was teaching her to be more than just a wielder of a sword; she taught her to become one with the blade. Terese insisted that Angel-Magic had no influence there, except for the meditation practices to focus the mind known as the Tar'deith or True Flow.

'Stop mooning over that fool of a man!' Terese said. 'You need to focus, Jean. It's integral to your training. Love will only dull your wits and make you easy prey for his lust.'

'Surely you've been in love?' Jean asked.

'I don't recall,' Terese said with a sniff. She stood under the arch of the open door, leaning against a slab of grey stone. She wore a waist-length golden coat of silk with white embroidery, grey woollen trousers, and knee-high white leather boots. The woman never wore skirts or dresses. 'They are impractical for swordplay,' she would say, 'and I don't care about looking pretty.' Her denial of ever being in love struck a chord of intrigue with Jean; however.

'But you can recall the exact number of casualties after the Battle of Tarvis Krell,' Jean said. 'You remember facing a horde of Nymloc on the Peaks of Dorshorath over three thousand years ago, but you do not remember love. How can that be?' She flashed the woman a challenging glare before returning her focus to Adem's swordplay.

'I remember some things more clearly than others,' Terese said. 'My mother's name, the age I first learnt to wield a blade, just pockets of information ... the rest is fading. Soon I may only remember this life.'

Jean kept her eyes on Adem – he pushed back two Aldebrands with flowing strikes – though she felt a stab of pain in her chest for Terese's lost memories.

'I still say you must remember your true love,' she said. 'Love is the strongest of emotions. It writes itself upon our every fibre. That is something one does not easily forget.'

'Perhaps I do remember ... a man,' Terese admitted. 'But I do not let those thoughts cloud my judgement, nor did I then. I remained in service to my people and to the All-Father. Your duty is to all the people, Jean Fairsythe, in your world and mine. If you fail to defeat the High-Jinn, he will bring terror and destruction on Earth also. You are the White Snow Fox, the Daughter of Thor, and a Child of Prophecy that has been known since the First Age. Our destiny is in your hands, and the hands of those ... young men.' Fools is what she was about to call them, Jean was certain. 'I understand that to try to keep you and Adem apart is a battle we cannot win, but I must try to keep your head clear of thoughts that would distract you from your duty.

'You may have your lover when Ragnarök is won. Until that day, you are just another figurine on a field of black and white.' The last was a reference to a chess board; in Kismeria, they called the game mohrthra'daeghal. Their version used a board with more squares and more figurines, though it was essentially the same as both were designed for battle strategy.

'I understand,' Jean sighed. 'But can't you see it my way too? I love Adem, and he loves me. We need to be together. It gives us greater strength than when we are apart—'

'I disagree,' Terese interjected. 'You will both become stronger if you resist your desires. It is character building to accept faith rather than lust. You are young, Jean, with so many years to live and grow in your wisdom ... though I think you are very wise. Listen to your true instincts, it will tell you that I'm right.' Jean had been looking inward for answers ever since the woman banned her from seeing Adem. She searched for answers in the depths of meditation, but her emotions would always override her attempts at logic.

'What if we are both fated to die in this Ragnarök Battle?' Jean asked while still watching Adem – her words seemingly affecting his confidence – being forced back by one of the Aldebrands, barely raising his practice sword in time to defend against the onslaught. Terese sighed deeply before she replied, 'Your duty, Jean Fairsythe, your duty above all.'

The next few days passed with intense training both at wielding Angel-Magic and her blade. Gabrielle Arnothell was the name of the Ael Tarael who guided her lessons in wielding terael. Angel-Magic was a rising sun over a mountain top that filled you with its warmth when it rose above the peak. Meditation practices to open herself up to terael included this exact metaphor. Terael swept you up and carried you away like waves on the sea when you released the desire to fight, a sea of bliss with waves of ecstasy.

The times her Battle Angel had linked with the Battle Angels of the Sons of Odin, she had felt the savage nature of the male half of Angel-Magic. Teron was like a wild beast fighting to dominate the wielder, a blizzard raging on a sea of flames. And Jinn-Magic ... so foul it made her want to empty her stomach ... so vile she nearly wailed in disgust the first time she sensed it. Her chest ached all the more to think that that vicious concoction was infecting Adem's heart and mind. How long before he too became a beast?

During the first week of the second month of winter, Jean crossed paths with Adem in the hallways. He wore a black coat, trousers, and boots in imitation of the Alit'aren – golden dragons embroidered on the sleeves. The two black-coated men who marched behind him moved further down the hall at Adem's request. Jean was reluctant to speak with him alone, but her heart made the decision for her.

'It has been too long,' Adem began. A stab of pain pierced Jean's chest at the thought that this was a breakup speech.

'Before you say another word, Adem Highlander, think very carefully about what you are about to say.' She fixed him with a warning glare, arms crossed under her breasts. Adem stared wide eyed for a moment before saying, 'You look very beautiful today, Jean. I was going to say that I miss you. We have been apart for over a month now. When will you see me?' Jean began tapping her foot to emphasize that she was timing this.

'I told you that you would have to wait for me,' she said. 'Am I not worth the wait?'

'You are more than worth it,' Adem replied. 'I just feel so lost without you. Meet me tonight? Please?'

Jean wanted to tell him no, her mind said no, but her heart forced her to ask, 'Same place?'

'Terese will know to look for us there,' Adem said with the expression of an expert tactician. 'Meet me in the small garden in front of the church, before sunset.' Jean smiled and nodded but offered no kisses. He grinned broadly as he bowed; then made his way to meet the other men. Jean's training was finished for the day, so after snacking on some fruit, she spent the afternoon trying on dresses.

She was torn between silver embroidery on a white silk gown with a low-cut neckline and a layered dress of crimson silk that exposed her knees. She thought white silk stockings with either dress would suit, though she did not like the idea of wearing fur-lined knee-high lace-up boots with the white gown. In the end, she chose a pale blue silk skirt and blouse with white embroidery, a white silk cloak, and silver-embroidered white gloves.

She did not think she looked any different to any normal day; however, when Terese saw her, she went berserk! It must have been Jean's expression of sly guilt that gave her away. Either that or the woman sniffed her out. She thought Terese was part wolf.

'You are going to see him!' Terese snapped. 'Don't even try to deny it. I know. I can tell. What are you thinking, Jean? The man is mad! Less so now than he will be in time, but he is still a madman. There is no hope for the two of you.' Jean drew herself up to face the woman as she said, 'I am meeting him. It is my choice. Adem's psychological condition is under control, less so now without his medication, but still under control and—'

'Jinn-Magic will corrupt his mind completely!' Terese interjected. 'No amount of Healing-Magic or medicine will ever save them. The Prophecies say that the Sons of Odin will go mad and destroy the world!'

'Lydia says the Prophecies are difficult to interpret,' Jean said, 'and it could mean something other than the way it sounds.'

'What other way can you interpret it?' Terese asked. 'It means what it means.'

'You told me I could have Adem when the war is over,' Jean said.

'I lied,' Terese said, followed by another deep sigh with a look of regret. Jean felt betrayed by the woman, giving her hope one day and destroying her entire perspective on another.

'I have to go to him,' Jean said in a firm tone. 'He needs me.'

Terese rubbed her temples the way she did when she was stressed before saying, 'Arrrgh ... just this once, all right. I will allow it but only if you are back in time for supper.' Jean smiled and rushed to give the woman a hug and a kiss on the cheek before saying, 'Thank you, Terese. You have a soft heart after all.' Terese snorted before replying, 'Don't bet on it!'

Adem was nowhere in sight when she arrived at the churchyard. Atlas Tordis was the smaller of the two churches within Nordhel. The medieval-style architecture was similar to a smaller version of Notre Dame.

The front courtyard was no more than twenty paces by twenty with a stone wall to section off the back of the church. Walls of the palace surrounded the churchyard though the walls were levels rising to allow hours of daylight to penetrate the stain glass windows of the church.

A thick layer of snow crunched under her boots as she strolled towards the long wooden bench, under a black tree of leafless branches. A small dark bird that looked like a robin with a blue breast hopped on the snow at her feet, after she brushed aside some ice to take a seat. Then she saw him, his Aldebrand cloak shimmering white and grey to take the form of black shadows. He removed the hood and strode towards her with a smile.

'Thank you for meeting me, my darling,' he said. 'I wanted to bring you flowers, but I think I have something better.' He then reached inside his brown leather belt pouch to pull forth a golden ring with a diamond the size of his thumb nail! Jean thought her eyes must have been bulging in complete shock as he then got down on one knee! He's going to bloody propose! she thought in a state of elation and anguish.

Her heart was racing, and her knees felt weak. She would not be surprised if she began to break into a sweat despite the cold. 'I have only known you for a relatively short time, Jean,' he continued. 'But I always told myself if I ever met the right woman, I would tell her that I love her more than money or gold, that I desired her more than fame or success, and that I needed her like a plant needs sunlight to grow and a fish needs water to breathe. I know now that you are that woman.

'I want nothing more in this life than for you to be my wife. I will love and cherish you, have and hold you, in sickness and in health. You are my day and my night, my waking hours and my dreams. I want everyone in Kismeria to know that this Son of Odin is married to the Daughter of Thor, and I want everyone on Earth to know that Jean Fairsythe is my wife.'

'Adem ... don't you think you're rushing into this?' she asked, before he interrupted by saying, 'You don't have to make a decision yet. Just think about it. But for now, I want you to wear the ring. So that everyone will know I have made the commitment. But ...'

'What is it, Adem?' she asked with a frown.

'I have already ... made the arrangements. If you are ready, that is. The priest is waiting in the church. Carl and Wil are in there too. They are our witnesses. I don't want to rush you, but what do you think?' She could hear his nervousness beneath the beaming anticipation in his eyes. She could feel it too. She knew his heart was yearning for her to say yes, and she wanted to, but she knew Terese would never forgive her for betraying her trust.

'I can't, Adem, I'm so sorry.' Tears immediately welled in her eyes. 'Terese says Jinn-Magic will drive you mad, more than you are already.'

'My condition is under control,' Adem said. 'I just need my medication to get better.'

'But there is no such medicine in Kismeria,' Jean said. 'Terese says even Healing-Magic can only slow Jinn-Magic, she says it is inevitable. I do love you, Adem, with all my heart, but I cannot marry you.' His face was unreadable. His months training with the sword had stripped the excess fat off his bones. He was lean muscle now with a face that looked chiselled from stone. He wore the high-collared black coat, trousers, and boots of an Alit'aren under the Aldebrand cloak. He looked like a priest.

'You don't have to make that decision now,' he said, 'at least not right away. Just think about it, and please wear the ring to give me some sign of hope.'

'There is no hope for us, Adem,' she said with tears streaming down her face. She wiped at her cheeks while rising as he stared up at her in disbelief. Her sense of him was that he had turned suddenly cold, though the cold was like falling through pits of endless flames.

'You can't mean that, Jean,' he said, but she stepped past him and ran off through the snow. She did not look back until she had reached the stone staircase that led to a palace door. He was still on one knee, his eyes searching the sky.

Looking for answers from your Lord God, Adem Highlander? Madness!

She didn't really mean it. She had learnt so much about the human spirit these past months she was beginning to be a believer too. Adem had told her once that ghosts were scientific proof of God, but she did not quite understand how or why he thought that was true. Her vision became water before she turned away to rush up the steps.

***

Terese watched from the balcony as Jean moved away from Adem in the churchyard. She had followed the girl because she had not taken her bow. Without it, she could not summon Tanriel. She had insisted the girl take the bow, but they had come to a compromise when she belted on her sword. She was glad she had witnessed this event however, worse than any of her suspicions about the boy. The fool thought she would marry him.

Well, perhaps she would have if Terese had not told her the truth. The Saviours were fated to fight together but nothing more than that according to the Prophecies. She could not allow the girl to get in deeper trouble than she already was. She would have to watch her every waking hour to make sure they had no more secret meetings. Seeing Adem propose had stirred Terese's memories. She recalled the day Gairlar Evorisel had sworn his oath to serve her till death. That was the Aldebrand Oath, though the man had been her lover before then. Strong and proud, the man had the wits of an ox before she taught him to yield.

Though there was always a give and take between them, him usually having the upper hand in the bedchamber. The man had died with a stake through the heart after he was turned by a Vampire of the Reihei Coven. She still remembered the look in his eyes when she drove that wooden dagger through his chest. That was the first time he told her that he loved her and no other. Tears welled in her eyes, and she took deep breaths to steady herself. That was ancient history now. She had her duty to the Daughter of Thor.

***

Jean lay on her front over the red silk bed sheets and thick mauve quilt. She was still fighting the tears, and she was filled with regret. She did not know how long Terese had been standing in her doorway before she spoke, though she guessed it was more than a brief moment. At first it shamed her to be seen in this state, but when she looked at the dark-haired woman, she saw that Terese's face was also red and puffy. She could not believe the immortal woman was capable of tears before that moment.

'I saw,' the woman said.

'You were spying on me?' Jean asked.

'I am your sworn protector,' Terese said. 'The enemy could strike again at any time. You refused to take your bow, so I was forced to follow you. I also wanted to know your new meeting place. If you can keep secrets from me, you will. However, I was pleasantly surprised by your sensible behaviour. You cannot allow this to work you into knots. It was a foolish idea, and you made the right choice. When I find out who gave him that ring, I will make a fine coat from their hide,' her last words spoke of a promise. 'In time you will understand that you had no other choice. If Adem turns out to be the Blue Water Dragon, marrying him would make you an even greater target than you are already. I'm sorry that I had to break your resilience.

'You just have to forget what you yearn for and turn your anguish into fuel for the fire. You are going to become very strong, Jean, stronger in Angel-Magic than any of the Heroines of Legend. Believe me, I know the pain you are feeling, but it will pass, in time.' At that moment, Jean felt like her heart was about to explode. She thought her eyes must be filled with suffering. Finally, she said, 'You were right. There is no hope for us.'

'I'm so sorry, Jean,' Terese said. 'If I could take your place and let you become the wife of Adem, I would make it so. But you hold Angel-Magic of the female Great Angels. It is your reward, and therefore, your subsequent responsibility is your burden, just as it is his too.

'I once loved a man more than my heart could take. It nearly cost me my sanity when I had to lose him. I can't let that happen to you. I need to make you stronger than I could ever be.' Jean still lay on her stomach with her elbows propped up to rest her chin on her hands.

She gave one more sniff, wiped her eyes, and rolled over to sit upright with her legs hanging over the side of the bed as she said, 'Come and sit beside me and tell me all about this man you loved.' Terese rolled her eyes with her hands crossed under her breasts before she walked to sit beside her to relate the tale. By the time Terese had told her how her lover died, Jean decided her life was the much easier one to live.

Chapter 8

The Green Men

With the spring thaw came the arrival of mortal lords and ladies, leading armies to fight alongside the Saviours, as well as some immortal tribes, including the Dremelden, Forest Immortals of the Kingarin Forest to the west of Nordhel.

Among the mortals came Lord Jothar Kelderath, High Seat of House Kelderath, Commander of the Sea of Spears, Wielder of the Blade of Turmoil, Captain of the Remleden Heart Guard, and Keeper of the Staff of Reckoning. The man was tall for a mortal – tall mortals were of a height with Adem and his friends – his head was shaved except for a topknot tail of white hair that fell down to his shoulders, a neatly trimmed white moustache like down-curving horns and a pointed white tuft of hair falling from his chin.

'I am honoured to be in the presence of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor,' the man said in a scraping tone, though he looked hard as nails. He stood proudly in a way that emphasised his height, even though most immortals in the room were a head taller.

'I bring news from the west of war and dissension amongst the nobles,' Kelderath continued. 'There is war between the Gorthair and the Bretons. They are fighting over the arrival of the Saviours to Kismeria and the threat of Alit'aren going mad from the newly concentrated levels of Jinn-Magic within teron. Lord Mark of the Bretons says we should preserve the Alit'aren for the Battle of Ragnarök. Lord Tintor of the Gorthair says that the Alit'aren must be hunted down and prevented from wielding Angel-Magic before they start a war that will destroy the world.'

Adem could now see where all of this was leading. Kelderath himself must have come to Nordhel to seek aid from the immortals to stop revolution from spreading to his own lands. This theory was confirmed as the man continued, stating that he feared 'the threat of revolution will spread like a festering wound throughout the lands.'

Tobin replied, 'We must first tackle the problem of Alit'aren going mad and destroying homes before we can unite the people under our banners. I fear we may be forced into battle with these rogue armies when we invade their lands to try to seek out these mad Alit'aren.

'We must keep a vigilant watch on these men who serve as the Hammer of the All-Father in our armies. We have trusted the Alit'aren to protect us in times of war and unrest. I fear for the days when their madness becomes the source of those wars.' There were twelve Alit'aren standing along the walls to either side of the thrones, all dressed in their black coats and cloaks. They stood like relaxed lions, searching the faces of Kelderath and his men. Torin was among them; he looked troubled when Adem looked to him, and the man usually showed as much emotion as a stone. Adem wondered whether it was wise for Tobin to speak of the issue of trust of Alit'aren with the male wielders present.

'We will journey west to try to put an end to this unrest and to restore order,' Tobin said. 'We shall take a show of force that should convince these farmer armies to submit.'

Kelderath gave only the slightest tilt of his head for a bow to the king, a man of self-assured importance. He wore a dark-blue silk coat, worked with silver-and-gold scrollwork upon the shoulders and the Golden Owl upon his left pocket. His boots were dark and also worked with vertical gold lines with trousers of dark leather. The Blade of Turmoil was a gold-hilted longsword in a gold scabbard encrusted with emeralds, so large he wore it strapped to his back.

The Court Chamber was fifty paces by fifty, polished blue marble columns supported a vaulted ceiling worked with gilt, and the floor was white and black marble squares. The wall friezes, tapestries, and paintings were large pieces depicting the ancient armies of the Nordic Kings in battle against Jinn-Fendinn's demon forces.

The next to enter was Lord Farrigan Barmellis, First Speaker of the High Council of the Kingarin Forest clan, and Commander of the Reaven Archers. Arawn explained that the Reaven had to become Agnars before they were accepted into the Brotherhood of Archers. Five Archers entered following Lord Farrigan, all tall with lightly tanned skin and long dark hair tied at the nape of the neck. They all wore the torin'sidhe, long swords at their hips with bows slanting above their shoulders.

Farrigan was very tall, spiked black hair and a focused gaze. His tanned skin was slightly darker than the Archers. He wore a dark green coat worked with black wolves upon the sleeves. His cloak pin and belt buckle were also of the Wolf. His long sword was gold-hilted capped with a fat ruby with golden wolves scrawled across the black scabbard.

A very beautiful Dremelden woman also stood beside the man, with thick golden curls tied back into a braid. She wore the same style of clothing as the Archers with a bow and sword.

'May I present the Lady Gwyndel Haveroan,' Farrigan said. 'Brenda of the Elder Tree sept. Archer of the Trevellin Brotherhood. Wielder of the Bow of Soliden, Resting Point of the Great Angel, Druantia.'

Gwyndel moved down onto one knee facing the floor as she said, 'I have come to pledge my service to the Daughter of Thor. I have brought the Bow of Soliden to present the Great Angel, Druantia, with the intention that she become one of Jean Fairsythe's Battle Angels.' She then reached for the yellow bow that glowed with a golden light when it was in her grasp. She remained on one knee as she held out the bow before her and spoke the name, 'Druantia.'

Adem looked in amazement as the floor in front of the bow began to break apart. Shoots of new spring growth began to push through the cracking marble. The shoots grew thick, and vines began to wrap around the growths that were now bark-covered trunks and branches. The growing vines and bark became first legs and then a female torso and arms of vine covered wood. A head sprouted from the top – skin like aged wood – that was an oval face, her eyes were dark seeds, flowing black hair of moss worked with flowers and dried brown leaves.

Arawn informed Adem this was not Druantia, however. The figure was twelve feet tall, and when it walked, the cracked floor behind it became whole again, and the floor where it stepped became broken marble with the shoots rising through. Another two giant figures rose to either side of the first in a rising of tangled vines and shoots. These second two were male figures – Green Men, Arawn called them. They were the Aldebrands of the Forests, wide bellied with thick trunk like arms and legs where the female figure was slender and curvaceous. Then Druantia appeared as a figure of blue-green fire, a beautiful female Great Angel of a similar size to Tanriel. The apparition hung two feet above the floor in front of the Forest Aldebrands. Her gown was blue-green silk that glowed with golden runes, hair of black fire, and eyes burning black on a pale oval face.

When she spoke, it reminded Adem of wind chimes as she said, 'I pledge myself to the service of the Daughter of Thor. Jinn-Magic is already infecting my Brothers, and I wish to form an alliance with the woman who will surely be our Salvation. I was among the Second Born of the Great Angels, and I am stronger than Tanriel, who I believe was your first Battle Angel. Do you accept my pledge, Daughter of Thor?'

Jean stood with a curious smile on her lips as she stepped forward with her hand on her heart as she said, 'I graciously accept your offer, Druantia of the Second Born. Queen of the Druids. High Priestess of the Dremelden. Wife to the Green Man, and Great Angel of Summer and Spring. I am humbled by this great gift, Lady Gwyndel. I only hope I can repay you for it.'

Druantia smiled as she replied, 'Tanriel must have given you some of those titles. I sense that my remarks did offend her. I have longed to speak with her again about Angel-Magics of the earth. I look forward to being linked with her in battle. So, you accept?' Jean then drew her blade; that was also so long she usually wore it across her shoulders. The blade glowed with a blue light as she held it lying flat across both hands.

'I accept your offer. I present my sword as your new Resting Point. I will uphold my duty to your lands and to your people. I take solace in the fact that you will serve as my guide and my protector. I accept wholeheartedly.'

Druantia was then absorbed by the sword that glowed more brightly as her form became one with the blade. The Forest Aldebrands then shrunk back into the floor like the reverse of plant growth. When the sentinels were reduced to tiny-leafed shoots, the cracked marble reformed around them to make a whole slab without markings. Wil made a whistling sound in the silence that followed, before Jean sheathed the blade and returned to her seat with that same curious smile.

When all had been given their chance to speak before the King and Queen of the Nordics, a great feast was held. It was the last day of the second week of spring, the night of the Bellatanus Festival. It was to honour the Great Angels of spring and summer, growth and regeneration, of which Druantia was one of three, the other two being Fodla and Eriu. The sigil of the Rohjors hung on huge banners around the room that created hallways for servants to enter. Nordhellin musicians – both male and female – played flutes, harps, dulcimers, and drums while entertainers danced, juggled fire sticks, did back flips, and somersaults in brightly coloured silks.

The feast was spread across many tables, to seat over two hundred guests. Including some knights, captains, lieutenants, and other soldiers of the mortal armies, along with delegates of the four immortal clans. The scene was a mix of ladies in fine silk dresses and jewels with men in finely cut silk or wool coats; some in shining breastplates and cuirasses.

Jean had her hair tied up in intricate braids and wound into a bun in a style similar to the two Immortal Queens. She wore a snow-white knee-length skirt and white silk blouse; blue-embroidered foxes on the cuffs and hem, pale blue silk stockings, and white leather boots worked with gold vertical lines. Adem wore the dark coat and trousers of an Alit'aren's uniform with brown leather boots, as did Carl and Wil.

Between the day of meeting nobles and the beginning of the feast, Adem had worked out how to charge his phone using a small trickle of Angel-Magic with guidance from Arawn.

So, there is a science to all of this! he had noted with excitement.

He sat at the banquet, taking photos while thinking what to say to Jean. Every time he glanced across at her, she smiled timidly, as if she wanted to apologise. Adem was not sure he wanted to discuss her rejection of his proposal in front of so many.

Orion showed a keen interest in Adem's phone – which he called a 'crystal box' – and Adem asked the king to take a photo of him and Jean together. Elmira smiled warmly at that, and Orion took several photos after Adem had photographed the two kings and queens for some time and showed them the pictures. It was the first pictures of Jean he had, a memory of her that would never fade. He sat staring at the picture for some time before she said, 'Could I have another look, please, Adem?'

'Of course, you may, Jean,' he replied as he handed her the phone. 'You look very beautiful as always. I will cherish those pictures, forever.' That comment gained him a warning glare from Terese who sat beside Jean. The woman appeared utterly bamboozled over Elmira's insistence that Adem and Jean sit together.

'You'll get to take plenty more, silly boy,' Jean said with a grin. 'Let me take one of Carl, Wil and you, together, in your uniforms. You all look so handsome.' Adem smiled, and they both stood to make their way around to Carl's and Wil's chairs. His two friends stood on either side of him with their hands around his shoulders as Jean took a number of shots. Carl had tried to console Adem many times since Jean's refusal to marry him, though Adem did not want to hear Carl's attempted rationale of why it was 'probably for the best.'

Since that day Adem had felt himself sliding deeper and deeper into a state of mental illness. Not madness in fact, more a burning rage like a volcano erupting within his flesh and bones − his blood and spirit. It was similar to the theme of falling through fire that he sensed in Arawn through the kigare, endless pain, endless suffering. What he could not understand was how Jean could reject her own true feelings for him. He knew she had loved him. Then she just changed.

His worst fear was that something might happen to her; she was so brave and so strong, but she was just a fragile little girl at heart, though a young woman in fact. Her rejection had torn apart that delicate fabric that had held him in a state of sanity for all of those years before he met her. It wasn't her fault of course; he didn't blame her. He didn't even blame Terese bloody Sapphire-Sword! He understood she thought her decision was the right thing to do; he just could not believe she made that decision.

The daily sessions of Healing-Magic were the only thing that kept him in a state of calm in outward appearance. Though he felt tense and nervous in Jean's presence, unsure of what to say and unable to suppress his anguish. And then there was the threat of Jinn-Magic, working its way ever deeper into his mind and soul the more he used Angel-Magic. Arawn tried to tell him that the pain would make him stronger; it will make you a real man, Arawn would say, and, Jinn-Magic will also make you strong, if you can resist it. There is great strength in your depths, Son of Odin.

When they returned to their seats, Adem was able to make civil conversation with Jean though his chest was aching every time he looked at her, more so than when he was just listening to her voice. Finally, she said, 'You look worn out, Adem. You look tired, drained, as if something has been ripped out of you. We are supposed to save the world, not fall in love. It just wasn't meant to be.'

'So, you plan to fall in love with another?' Adem asked. 'When we are fated to be together, you choose to run and hide from my sight because your love is aching just as badly? Something was ripped out of me, my heart. All that is left now is fire, eternal flame.' He finished with a deliberate sneer he knew she would not approve of.

'Have you been accepting your Healing-Magic every evening, Adem?' Jean asked with a concerned frown. His faint sense of her through the kigare confirmed it was both concern and fear. 'You are a changed person from when we first met, in some ways much the better. But when I hear you talk like that, it's like you're a different person entirely. You can't afford to become two people, Adem. You have to be you, just you and no one else. Understand?' She gave a nervous grin at the end as she waited for a response. After a deep sigh, he felt a wave of calm wash over him, as he said, 'There is only one me, Jean. There was never more than one.'

Suddenly her mood brightened, and her eyes sparkled as she smiled and said, 'That's the Adem Highlander I know and love. I don't ever want to see that other guy again. Promise me?'

'I promise,' he said, after another sigh, after hearing her say that she still loved him. His sense of her through the kigare was that she did still love him, so much so he was stunned by it, even though it was still only a very faint perception. He also realised what must have brightened her mood. It was not just his words that had cheered her; it was her sense of his suddenly letting go of all of his pain and despair. He was surprised himself when he realised it had melted away at her words. 'But I need you to promise me something; that if I break my promise; and that "other guy" shows his face again, I need you to forgive me.' She crossed her arms under her breasts at that and looked at him with scorn before she said, 'Just make sure I never see him again, Adem Highlander.' He realised the conversation could turn nasty from then onwards if he kept this up, so he pointed to the performers and started to capture them on video. Jean turned her attention to the performers, and they just sat and watched for a time and listened to the music. It was peaceful. He was content once more.

Chapter 9

The Bellatanus Festival

The festivities lasted another four days. Celebrations poured out on to the streets of Nordhel from the houses and inns within the city, where people held grand parties in fancy costumes and gilded and feathered masks. On the second night, a night of a near full waxing moon with bright stars lighting up the dark sky, Adem and his friends visited the Chestnut Quarter of the city. It was a section of streets and laneways mostly made up of three-storey inns and taverns, sometimes built right up next to one another without a laneway between.

Orion walked to Adem's left with Tigerclaw hanging at his hip. The King of the Torvellen was dressed in Alit'aren black with a dark-gilded wolf mask. Masks of the Rohjors were a popular choice among the revellers, the Wolf, the Fox, the Lion, or the Dragon, though others wore the Owl, the Hawk, the Falcon, the Eagle, and other sigils of the many noble Houses across the lands. Not all wore the sigil of their own Houses however, as the mask was supposed to serve as a disguise, so that the wearer could be free to join in the celebrations without fear of how it would affect their standing in the days that followed.

Twelve Nordic Aldebrands followed Adem and his friends like wolves stalking in the night, along with four Torvellen who served as bodyguards to Orion, including Talegon and Kelflax. Crowds parted around them easily as they made their way through the streets. Even drunken civilians were wise enough to avoid getting in a scuffle with armed Aldebrands. Adem, Carl, and Wil did not wear masks; however, they saw no reason to hide who they were from the people. Orion had advised against this, stating that Shadowsouled could be amongst the crowds on any street.

Torin wore dark blue baggy silk trousers and a red silk coat lined with silver-and-gold scrollwork. His feet were bare, and he wore the four fat golden earrings of a Shorewarden. His beaded braids clicked together as his head swivelled left and right to scan the crowd, as if he expected a Shadowsouled to lunge at them at any moment. The man wore a Red Badger mask; two long blue feathers rising from the top. His face below his nose was exposed; his dark moustache and goatee giving him the appearance of a wolf disguised as something tamer.

'Stay on the alert, Adem,' the man would say, from time to time. 'The enemy could be lying in wait around the next corner, and if you are not on your guard, a knife could easily slide under your ribs. I cannot cure death. If I am distracted by other assassins, there may not be time to save you before you bleed out.'

'I will be careful, Torin,' Adem replied, as he waved to a woman in a cream silk dress and pink mask. When she removed the red feathered mask, she smiled with pearl-white teeth, large blue eyes, and red cheeks on a thin pale face. A mortal woman; she was very pretty and about his age. Her dark hair was braided and tied up into a bun similar to Jean's at the banquet the night before.

'Be warned, Adem,' Orion said, 'a woman so fair may steal more than your heart if you give in to her seduction.' Adem looked to the woman, and she gave a wicked grin as if she had overheard.

'What other than my heart would she seek?' Adem asked.

Orion chuckled deeply before he replied, 'A woman may seek to steal your place of power. The Sons of Odin will sit highest amongst the Kings and Queens of the Free Lands. If you are too eager to fall in love and make a woman your wife, she will become higher than any queen. You should have worn the mask as I suggested.'

Adem snorted before he said, 'I already love one woman more than I can take. I have no room in my heart for another.' Though when the woman leaned forward to expose the tops of her breasts, then hitched up her skirt to show her legs up to her lower thighs, he knew that last comment was not entirely truthful. Ever since he arrived at Kismeria, his heart had become filled with passionate fires.

Finally, Orion pointed to a three-storey inn of blue stone with black balconies and a dark-tiled roof. Named: The Dark Hound. 'They do dark ale here that is my favourite,' the king announced. 'I have barrels of it delivered to Tarvel while I am staying in the palace.'

'I am also fond of their brew,' Torin said with a grin. 'Lead the way, Your Majesty.' They then turned to make their way towards the dark-stained door that was wide open to allow passage into the main common room. The dark rounded tables outside the inn were crammed with patrons of all classes, sitting and drinking and smoking their pipes under the balcony in the lamplight that poured from the round glass windows.

Music flowed from the common room on to the street, a harp and a flute and a drum. The tune was unfamiliar to Adem at first, though Arawn confirmed that it was called the Liar and the Jester. An immortal woman was singing to the tune when they entered the common room, that was over forty paces deep and half as wide, with whitewashed timber ceiling beams; dark-panelled walls that glowed in the lantern light. Large fires burnt on the north and south walls with a long bar. Patrons sat humming and swaying to the tune. Some women were up dancing on their chairs or even on the tables in fine silk dresses of bright reds, blues, and yellows.

Half the patrons looked to be of the Torvellen clan. Adem began to wonder if Orion had picked this inn because he knew it would be a safer place for the Sons of Odin to sit and enjoy the festival. His suspicions were confirmed when Orion removed his mask, and the Torvellen patrons within the room began to smile and bow to their king; some men even getting down to one knee with their right knuckles pressed to the floor and their left hands over their sword hilts, while some of the Torvellen women began to heave for breath as if they suddenly felt faint.

'Drink, dance, be merry, and enjoy the celebrations!' Orion shouted to the people with his arms in the air. His words were greeted by a great cheer and shouts of worship for their leader; then slowly they returned their focus to the performers.

Their presence did draw looks from many of the patrons as they stood at the bar, sipping their ale, however. Torin and the other Alit'aren scanned those faces like hawks, the Aldebrands also on the alert.

They were all served a pint of the dark ale; however, the twenty-five men formed a line that spanned more than half the entire length of the bar. Adem, Carl and Wil casually leaning one elbow up on the dark polished wood.

'I would give my right arm to spend a night with a woman that fine,' Wil said with a nod towards a slim mortal woman in a red silk dress, dancing on a tabletop. The top of her head would only have reached Wil's chest, large dark eyes and honey-coloured silk locks. Her generous bosom was heaving from exertion, and Adem had trouble dragging his focus away once he saw the woman.

'I miss my wife,' Carl said with a sigh, he was also apparently having trouble removing his gaze from the dancing lady. 'How long do you think we will be stuck here?' he asked Adem.

'We have not even begun to do what we are here for,' Adem replied, 'and we have a commitment to the people. After all, the curse on Angel-Magic was brought here by us. All that occurs as a result of that will be blamed on us. I would not want to show my face in Kismeria again unless we fulfil the Prophecies.'

They were almost whispering, hoping they would only be heard by the three of them amongst the talk of the crowd and the music and singing. The next tune was the Duke and the Duckling, a song more common amongst the higher classes that Adem suspected was influenced by the arrival of King Orion. The woman's voice took on a more harmonious quality, and her focus often lingered on the face of her king.

The rest of the evening was spent at The Dark Hound, listening to the musicians and the female singer, drinking dark ale and allowing an intoxicated calm to wash over them. Adem still had lingering symptoms from the Jinn-Magic, despite accepting his evening Healing-Magic before setting out on the streets.

He began to notice what he would describe as dark auras around the forms of some of the soldiers sitting around the room. He rubbed his eyes, blinked, and then looked again, and the aura was gone, though when he turned his head, he would see the same dark aura around another man.

He didn't wish to discuss this with Orion, Torin, Carl, or Wil, so he silently conferred with Arawn for answers. Arawn warned that Jinn-Magic was working its way deeper into his mind and soul.

I do not know how long you will be able to fight it, his Battle Angel explained. The question is whether you will be able to judge accurately whether you are receiving signs, or just seeing things. I sense no evil in these men.

I understand, Arawn, Adem replied with his mind. Still, I would be most grateful if you could always confirm whether you believe my visions are true or false.

I will always try to warn you of any dangers I am made aware of, Arawn replied.

He closed his eyes for a few moments, and when he opened them again, the visions were gone. He was relieved, though also certain they would return. He wanted to believe they were signs, though he knew it had to be the precursor of madness setting in.

'Is something bothering you, Adem?' Carl asked. 'You look a little stressed. Did you have a vision?'

'I thought I saw ... something,' Adem admitted, 'but it was just my imagination. Have either of you had any strange visions these past months?'

'I could say everything I've seen since the photo shoot has been a strange vision,' Carl said in a calm tone, though his brow was furrowed with signs of stress. 'Sometimes ... I think I hear something, a voice of a woman crying out in pain, or a man screaming with fear, in the dead of night while I lay awake in bed. But when I get up to speak to the guards, they report that they heard nothing.'

Carl's words hit Adem like a lightning-bolt. If his friends were already feeling the effects of Jinn-Magic, how long before they also started to pose a risk to innocent lives?

'Perhaps it is time you and Wil started to receive your daily Healing,' Adem suggested. 'If Jinn-Magic is already working its way into your mind, you can only benefit from relief of the symptoms.'

'I am nervous about anyone using Angel-Magic on me,' Wil said. 'Even a woman using Angel-Magic makes me paranoid, but I would never let a man try to Heal me.'

'Let one of the women take on the task then,' Adem said. 'It's like Orion said, the Sickness is in all of us from the first time we witnessed ... apparitions. Jinn-Magic was placed upon our souls then and there. I accept that I have an illness and I believe you two are also at risk. So, accept the Healing-Magic, for the sake of the people.'

Most of those words were spoken so quietly, not even Orion and Torin would have overheard. Immortals had exceptional hearing though the noise of the crowd was building and added to the music and singing. Adem wondered then how exceptional their hearing was. Was it possible that every immortal in the room could still filter out their voices over the noise? He questioned Arawn about this though the Battle Angel did not respond.

He looked around the room at the faces of the Nordics and Torvellen again to try to guess whether any of them had overheard. Some men sat stroking their beards with contemplative expressions, while some women darted looks at him with pale faces.

'We'll continue this discussion later in private,' Adem said, 'as I fear there may be more listeners than we had predicted.' Carl and Wil then swept suspicious glances across the room to the many faces nearby. 'I'll have another round of pints,' Adem said to change the subject. He spilled silver coins on to the bar. A slim Torvellen bar maid with dark hair tied back with a dark kerchief smiled as she scooped up the three coins.

'You enjoy our special brew then?' she asked.

'Very much so, thank you,' Adem replied. 'It reminds me of something I tried back home.'

'Home is a long way away for you three,' she said, 'and I know it, Adem Highlander.'

Three more Torvellen barmaids stood at the bar, pumping the taps for their pints. Later the women brought out trays of freshly baked breads with an assortment of cheeses. It was Adem's fourth pint, and he was glad to get something to eat to soak up the alcohol.

'I think you are right, Adem,' Carl said. 'We should start to accept Healing-Magic daily, the same as you. I want to succeed here. I don't wish to become so far gone I can't make sense of anything. We need a plan to get Fendinn sealed away for the next thousand years.' He spoke in a hushed tone, though Adem still held his index finger over his lips in a sign to suggest Carl hold his tongue.

'We have a fighting chance,' Adem said. 'The Enemy may be stronger than we have allowed ourselves to accept, though we have an army behind us that we shall lead to victory. It is our destiny to succeed. We will win this war.'

Orion clasped a hand over his left shoulder to say, 'A fine speech, Adem Highlander. You inspire us all with your words. We were not listening in, of course, though immortal ears are sharp. Do not fear that you have said more than you should, nothing you have mentioned is a secret amongst the people of Kismeria. Remember that Shadowsouled are amongst us. You must be careful of what you say in crowded areas.'

Adem's head whipped around to scan the faces of the men in the room, the dark aura's returning to settle in around five of the Nordic soldiers and three Torvellen men. He rubbed his eyes and blinked again, but the aura's remained. 'I'm feeling a little weary, my king,' Adem said. 'Can we finish our ales and return to the palace?'

Orion took another large gulp of his dark ale before he replied, 'Yes, of course. You need your rest after such vigorous training. We will drink fast and leave at the end of this song, yes?' Adem cautiously glanced around the room at the men with the dark auras while trying to appear half drunk and lost in his focus.

He wanted to ask Orion and Torin for the names of those men though he didn't want to give away the fact that they had his attention. It seemed odd to him that the auras would fall in around the same men again. Not all the same, but some and no others. No new ones. It seemed to be a pattern of sorts. Was it the Jinn-Magic infecting his mind or was it a sign? He needed rest and another day of Healing-Magic to set his mind right before he could make any sense of it.

'You look troubled, Adem Highlander,' Torin said. 'We shall make our way back to the palace. I see something in your eyes, mistrust, paranoia, loathing, any or all of those. Perhaps we will allow the Sons of Odin longer hours to sleep each day and lesser hours wielding Angel-Magic, until we can understand Jinn-Magic in greater detail.'

Orion put down his mug to wave his hands in the air and shout his farewells to his people. His words were greeted by many cheers and applause from the Torvellen in the room as the Aldebrands formed a protective barrier.

They made their way out into the street where people still danced and swayed to the music that floated outwards from every inn and tavern. It was difficult to see the auras as clearly in the street as he had in the common room, though Adem still noticed the darkness around several Nordic men as they made their way along the cobble-stone lane. He decided not to mention it to Orion or Torin until they were out of earshot of the men, though, when he did tell them, Orion stopped to look back over his shoulder at the Nordics Adem had described. Adem turned too, and the men appeared to be following them; they stopped short under the gaze of the Torvellen King, like sheep spotted by a leopard, and turned their backs to march in the opposite direction.

'Very suspicious,' Torin said, 'they were following us without a doubt. Perhaps you do see signs after all, Son of Odin.' Orion wore an expression of open rage as he stared at the backs of the retreating men.

'We should arrest them for questioning,' Wil said, 'so we can figure out what they were planning.'

'They were planning murder, Wil Martyr,' Orion replied, 'plain and simple, though we have no proof of their intent. I will discuss this with Tobin, and we shall set our traps for these Shadowsouled.' One of the retreating men looked back over his shoulder at those last words; Adem was sure they had all heard Orion's threat. The Torvellen King stood proudly facing off against his would-be assassins. He was a man without fear. 'Let us return to the palace with haste,' he said.

They did move with haste after that; the Aldebrands looking in all directions, like cornered wolves ready to tear out the throat of any man that crossed their paths. Some had their swords drawn now, those close to Adem and his friends, while those on the outer edges wielded arrows of coloured fire. The light of those swords and arrows would have made them stand out to other assassins hiding in towers with arrows notched to bowstrings.

The Aldebrands judged it necessary however, as they had to make their way through many more crowded streets with revellers. The path opened up before them as dancing men and women suddenly moved aside looking panicked.

Adem had not drawn his blade yet, nor had his friends, or Orion. Torin stalked like a large cat with balls of lightning hovering an inch below his downturned palms. As they were leaving the Chestnut Quarter, they had to cross a distance of streets that were mostly houses with dimly lit windows, though up ahead a few streetlamps were not alight.

No one was visible through the darkness, nor was there any sign of movement when Torin launched two large balls of fire into the night sky, that hovered over twenty feet above the street throwing pale blue light across the pavement. The laws that stated 'no place should be in darkness, even if it is a place of sleeping' were enforced throughout the city of Nordhel also, and so this was indeed a sign of mischief. Street lanterns were all fitted with glowbulbs, and so this meant they had been removed, or one with sufficient skill in Angel-Magic had snuffed them out. Adem saw no damage to the stone that encased the glowbulbs, suggesting a wielder had extinguished the lights.

'I suspect a trap,' Torin whispered. 'We must be on our guard.'

'Kelflax and I will scout ahead,' Talegon said. The Torvellen Aldebrand sheathed his blade as did his companion, then both raised the hoods of their Aldebrand cloaks. Even the hovering blue lights could not reveal their forms after they had taken their first few steps. Adem and his friends waited, though all had drawn their weapons, including Orion.

'Do not summon your Battle Angels unless we are greatly outnumbered,' Orion warned. Then a cry was heard; it was Talegon, a single word shouted, 'Assassins!'

The clashing of swords rang out in the darkness, then the voices of dozens of men were heard roaring, as bodies began to pour into the light. Some mortals though others were Nordics and Torvellen; they wielded flamespears – two feet of enchanted steel at the end of a two pace long black shaft – or axes, swords, or maces that glowed with enchantment. A stream of flaming arrows flew from the Aldebrands' bows to hammer through armour, flesh, and bone as men fell screaming.

The Aldebrands with swords closed the gaps around Orion and Torin, along with the other four Alit'aren. There were over fifty assassins that Adem could make out in the dull light, with more pouring from the shadows.

He seized Angel-Magic; lava and ice flooded his veins to mix with Jinn-Magic. He raised his left hand in a fist while his right clutched his sword hilt that glowed with a blue fire. When he opened his fist, he held a ball of blue flame. Though he did not throw it, he used that fire to draw more fire from the sky; suddenly balls of lightning were hailing down upon the advancing assassins. Where they fell and hit a target, men screamed as fire melted their skulls like flowing wax. It was a cruel way to kill a man, but these men were Servants of Jinn-Fendinn

Then he saw something that made him question that belief. Some of the mortal men were throwing up shields of Angel-Magic. They can wield! Suddenly he considered that these men may all be wielders who were turning mad from Jinn-Magic!

In an instant, he made the balls of lightning vanish; then he wielded Air-Magic to tie the nearest assassins' hands at their sides. There was only twenty left alive at this point, and he quickly shouted to Torin and the Alit'aren to perform the same spell as Adem could not hold them all.

Carl and Wil had chosen not to participate in the battle so far. Both had their weapons drawn however, Wil's axe glowing golden in the darkness, and Carl's spear slanted at an angle. 'They may be wielders!' Adem shouted. 'They may be corrupted by Jinn-Magic!'

Orion shouted, 'If that is so, they are innocent men! We cannot kill them!' The Aldebrands began rounding up the survivors and marching them into a line. Their weapons had fallen at their sides, and their hands were useless with Air-Magic binding them. Every one of those men had the dark aura around their bodies. He could see it clearly now that they all stood under the blue light.

He saw it even more clearly as they marched the men through streets lined with lamps and where light poured from windows. What does it mean? If it was Jinn-Magic that had infected them, perhaps that is why Arawn could sense no evil in the men at The Dark Hound, because it was madness that had them in its grasp. The Prophecies said that Jinn-Magic would eventually turn madmen into evil men, though perhaps Adem could see the aura of men tainted with madness before they became evil. He asked Arawn through the kigare if he sensed any evil in these men.

Perhaps, I sense something, Arawn replied. They are infected with Jinn-Magic, that much is certain, though all men who can wield are now infected, some more than others. They should be questioned, trialled, and executed if found guilty. If they are simply mad or becoming evil from Jinn-Magic, they should be prevented from ever wielding Angel-Magic again.

It wasn't his Battle Angel's words that troubled him; however, it was the looks he received from his friends as they made their way towards the palace. Particularly Carl, who looked so shocked he seemed unable to hide his disgust over Adem's use of Angel-Magic to kill men, men who were now presumed innocent of serving Fendinn.

Both his friends had looked as if they were about to empty their stomachs at the sight of men with holes burnt through their skulls the size of grapefruits, and Adem realised later how offensive it must be to Carl as he was a devout Christian. Adem had never believed he would kill a man from the day he became a Witness. He was also a baptised Christian and a strong believer that murderers went to Hell. But this was an act of self-defence, and an attempt to save the fate of an entire world, and to save a King! He knew his actions were justified, though the looks of scorn he received from Carl made his soul heavy with guilt.

He decided then and there that he would not use Angel-Magic to kill a human – mortal or immortal – as long as there was another option that could save his life and the lives of his friends without killing the man who threatened them.

He felt ashamed at what he had become. He had strayed from the path of his faith. Killing goblins with Angel-Magic was one thing: using fire to burn through the skull of a human was despicable. He wanted to talk it out with his friends, but their looks made him avert his eyes from theirs and march beside them with his head hanging low. He tried to tell himself it was Jinn-Magic that had taken over, the Sickness had made him do it. But he knew it was more than that, it was his choice. It was what he was becoming. He was becoming a weapon, but he was also becoming a monster.

Chapter 10

The Challenge

The next morning Adem woke at first light. A knock at the door brought a serving woman into his chamber. They didn't wait for a reply after knocking when it was his meals or someone important. It irritated him to be seen in his nightclothes, woollen shirt and pants of pale cream, though they had never entered while he was naked. The woman was mortal and of middling years − plump faced with rounded curves, dark eyes, and a pinched nose that reminded him of a sparrow.

Alisia Darmel − she wore the dark livery slashed with red of the Lion Rohjor with the lion embroidered on her dark apron in red and gold. The woman had delivered him breakfast for weeks now, always with a word or two about how he looked too thin, and he should eat up to put some meat on his bones. Adem was glad the exercise had thinned him out a bit, and he was cautious of his weight still. Though Healing-Magic left him famished immediately after, and he ate much more than any normal man his size, most days. He was licking the last crumbs of a crusty brown loaf of bread and some goat's cheese off his fingers when he reached for one of the green apples sitting in a silver bowl.

After his bath, he returned to his room in a dark bath robe. He dressed when the Aldebrands left the room, blue leather boots, dark trousers, and a dark blue woollen coat with a high collar embroidered with silver and gold leaves. He didn't feel like wearing Alit'aren black today. For some reason, the dark colours reminded him too much of Jinn-Magic. He buckled on his sword belt and sword over the coat and was considering whether to wear his Aldebrand cloak when another knock came and Torin entered without waiting for his call.

The man wore Alit'aren black today with the sigils of the Sons of Odin on his high collar. His eyes scanned the room as if seeking out enemies before they rested on Adem. He wondered if Jinn-Magic was infecting his teacher also.

'The prisoners are being questioned in the dungeons,' Torin said, 'and after a night of interrogation, we have discovered that every man is teetering on the edge of madness or falling from the cliff. This suggests the dark auras you saw are a gift from the All-Father. Odin may be speaking to you in ways we do not yet understand. You mentioned you had similar visions on Earth?'

'My doctors call that my illness, not my gift,' Adem remarked with his back straight, 'and I still cannot tell up from down with either theory. Your words are comforting. I would prefer to believe it is not madness to see visions, though where I come from ... it is.'

'Further evidence will provide us with greater understanding then,' Torin mused. 'If it is a gift, you must use it. We all must use it to spot threats that would otherwise be undetectable. Our best defenders are becoming our worst enemies, dark times indeed.' The man appeared to be looking inward with those last remarks. Did Torin see a darkness growing within his own heart and soul? How long could he trust the man? How long could he trust any of them? He sought advice from Arawn though the Battle Angel was brooding again, descending into endless pits of flame.

Adem would not question Torin's loyalty however, not yet anyway. He didn't want to offend one of the few men he trusted more than anyone, a man he looked up to, whatever his fate may be. After a long pause, Torin's eyes returned to focus, on Adem, like a dark eagle spotting its prey. 'Today is the day of your Rites of Passage Ceremony, you, and your Brothers. It is a challenge, a test of sorts, though I cannot tell you what the test is or how you are to succeed. It is a test of your skills, your courage, your strengths and weaknesses, your hopes and your dreams. Remember most importantly that if you allow yourself to give in to fear and despair, regret or temptation, you shall fail the test.'

'What will it mean if we fail?' Adem asked.

'For Seidr wielders, to fail this challenge means a failure to become Alit'aren or Ael Tarael. But for the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor, failure will bring a swift death to you all, and the hope of Kismeria will be lost forever. This challenge is a part of the Prophecies. The first of its kind were created during the First Age. However, the test was designed specifically for you and your friends, your Rites of Passage to confirm that you are the Saviours of Prophecy.'

'You said the test is for me and my Brothers, Carl and Wil, but you mention all four of the Saviours. Will Jean be involved in this challenge?'

'She will be there, in a way, though you will not see her or hear her, nor will she see or hear you and your Brothers. Her path through the Rites of Passage leads another way to the destiny of the Sons of Odin, and the test will reflect that. You may still communicate with her through the kigare during the challenge, this will be vital when you are both stretched to your limits. I can tell you no more. Now follow me.'

He followed his teacher with the two Aldebrands trailing until he met with Carl and Wil in a red-painted hallway. Both looked concerned, at first Adem was worried they were still shocked that he could kill with Angel-Magic, until Carl said, 'I'm really nervous about this test, Adem. What if we don't pass? It seems a great risk! We could die!'

'You are forbidden to discuss the test before and after,' Torin interjected with a scowl, then added in what seemed an afterthought, 'though I am sure you will. Discussing what happens within the Chameleon Arch could also be fatal to your destinies. You may discuss your shared experiences, though you must never speak of what you witness when you are alone, not to anyone, ever! This is a test of fate.'

The four Aldebrands who were patrolling behind Carl and Wil moved to lead the procession. Soldiers stood guard around the hallways and servants scurried by busily with tasks. Dusting and polishing, bearing trays or carrying towels or pressed linens. A few mortal nobles were about also, though they cleared a path for the Aldebrands with Torin striding defiantly in their wake.

After making their way down four floors, they entered a series of grey stone hallways. High-arched ceilings with chandeliers hanging over stone columns in Gothic style. It was a part of the palace Adem had never been to before. To reach it, they first had to pass through a large stone door engraved with the Rohjor sigils.

Alit'aren and Ael Tarael walked these hallways mostly, with few servants or even soldiers that Adem could see. The floor was checked black and white marble. Carvings of angels and demons decorated the stone columns and arches above, cross-hatched gold on black within the vaulted ceiling. There were many Aldebrands moving about the hallways however, enough to make up for the apparent lack of guards. Then Adem heard voices singing, immortal men and women in a tune similar to when they first arrived in Kismeria.

'Are they creating wards against evil?' Wil asked.

'It is a custom,' was all that Torin said. The song grew louder and clearer as they approached a set of twenty-feet-high stained wooden doors. Torin said the wood was ancient, crafted with Angel-Magic, and stronger than any stone or metal. Adem guessed they wanted to keep enemies out of this place. Rohjor sigils decorated the dark shining doors that were swung wide to admit them when Torin performed an incantation that made the designs shine like gold.

The room within was the same stone columns and arches with the chessboard marble floor, a rounded room with the arches forming a peak over one hundred paces wide. Besides the people, the room was otherwise empty except for two dark stone archways that stood unsupported and rising only twelve feet off the ground at the peak. It looked like stone or polished wood that glistened as if slick with oil, though it also seemed metallic when Adem touched the Lion Rohjor carving down one of its sides.

That one bore the markings of the Sons of Odin – the male Arch – the other was decorated with dark foxes – the female Arch. Adem knew it without asking, as one seemed to sing to him, feeding off him and his ability to wield. Angel-Magic sprung up in him in response – flames and a blizzard filling his veins, mixed with the rancid Jinn-Magic – and he felt it rise in his Brothers. The other – marked with the foxes – was silent and still; he knew it would be singing to Jean, however.

Jean entered moments later with an entourage of Ael Tarael, including the two Immortal Queens and Terese Sapphire-Sword. Dressed in a red silk coat with silver buttons, a dark skirt that fell just below her hips worked with crimson embroidery, dark silk stockings, and red leather boots, she took his breath away as always. She avoided looking at him; immediately, he felt a stab of fear that she had heard of his acts the night before, killing innocent men. Panic struck at the thought that she would label him a murderer.

She wore her sword at her hip but didn't carry her Lukrorian Bow over her shoulder; none of them had brought their bows. It wasn't until they were all assembled; however, that Orion explained that they would not be taking any of their weapons into the Archways. They had only been allowed to bring them to this point for their own protection. It was explained that the Great Angels could not survive in this 'Jinn Realm' as Orion called it. Apparently, some had been taken into the portals in ancient times which is how they learnt of the dangers it exposed them to.

Tobin was also present, the two kings both in Alit'aren black with their swords at their hips. Lydia wore dark silk embroidered with silver and lace at the neck and cuffs. Elmira was dressed in a blue woollen robe under a white silk cloak embroidered with black foxes around the edges. Terese wore tight blue silk stockings, white boots, and a white woollen coat that hung below her hips. With the silver belt that held her sword, the bottom of the coat served as a short skirt.

Jean's golden braid and Terese's dark ponytail were almost identical today. Adem wondered if there was some meaning in that. Terese stared past him to gaze at the Archways; she seemed to be staring right through him as if he didn't even exist. Jean focused on his face for a brief moment; her expression mirrored the ache he sensed in her through the kigare. Then she was hard as nails as she stared at the female Arch. She burned with fierce determination.

The rest of the small crowd in the room were Alit'aren and Ael Tarael, the men in their black coats and the women in bright silks with shimmering embroidery. There were seven males and seven females, stationed on either side of the two Archways. They were the ones who had been singing when they entered, though they were silent now. Adem sensed Angel-Magic rising in all seven Alit'aren, and he knew the Ael Tarael also held on to terael though he could sense nothing of it. He knew because the Rohjor sigils on the two Archways began to glow golden, then white, then blue, then red, and so on. They were using Angel-Magic to activate the portals.

A sound like thunder tore through the Archways. Light like a small star blossomed in the heart of each. The light spread outwards like a stone thrown into a pond, flowing ripples on a sheet of incandescence until the light became flat as paper. A humming sound resonated from each Archway after the thunder. It was a machine of Angel-Magic that drew from the wielders.

'Sons of Odin; throw down your weapons and prepare to face your fate,' Tobin said, his voice enhanced by Angel-Magic to resonate over the humming of the Archways. 'You have come to us from another world, a world so different from our own yet also alike in as many ways. You have come to fulfil a destiny that has been known by our people since the Dawn of Ages. Release your hatred, throw down your fears, give up what you love; do not hold back your tears. Prepare yourselves for the struggle of a lifetime, a challenge that will test your every fibre.

'The Sons of Odin shall be reborn of fire and bloodshed, shall be bathed in pain and heartache, shall be loved and despised, worshipped and feared, and shall rise to become the Saviours of Kismeria. So are the words of our Prophecy. Such are your Rites of Passage.'

'Daughter of Thor throw down your sword and your spear,' Lydia said. 'You have come to us in the hour of our greatest need, when Darkness rises in the hearts of men. You bring us your courage and your strength. You fill us with hope, and you will be our guiding light when the Shadow returns to cover the lands in darkness. The Daughter of Thor shall be reborn of devastation and turmoil, of battle and carnage, of Darkness and the Light.

'You shall lead the Ael Tarael to their destinies in the Battle of Ragnarök at world's end. You will fight for us, bleed for us, and die for us if you must, but you will never fail us. Such are the words of our Prophecy. Such are your Rites of Passage.'

Adem and his friends removed their weapons from their belts and stood proudly with hands by their sides. Adem felt a surge of fear rising and he crushed it with a vengeance. He had to be strong. He could not give in to fear and doubt.

'Remember, that what you see in the Archways is not real,' Lydia said. 'It is more like a dream that can harm you or Heal you. The limits of reality may be stretched there beyond your understanding, but this can be used as a weapon. Your mind and your imagination shall be your sword, your spear, your axe, and your bow. I can tell you no more than this. Now go.'

Jean stepped defiantly towards the Archway, and Adem rushed to meet her steps, then raced past her to leap into the wall of light ... Music filled his ears ... Angelic female voices ... flutes, drums, harps and violins, trumpets and trombones ... He was falling ... Falling through infinite space ... He fell for hours ... Fell for days ... It seemed everlasting as a sweet blissful energy filled his soul as he fell through the Light. Endless day and night. Memories filled his mind. First of his own childhood, then other images of people and places flashed through his psyche, and they were not his own memories. He realised within time that they were visions of Heroes of Kismeria. Past lives of men and women that were bound by the Hero Chain throughout the Ages. He witnessed their experiences through their eyes and ears, and he received gifts from this ancient knowledge, as his depth of understanding of Angel-Magic increased dramatically.

Glimmer!

—Jarien Stone-Spear was born of the Torvellen Clans in the life he was second named Trahvesnihiel. Raised in the capital during the Age of Heroes, the son of a great Torvellen Captain, Johrdios Trahvesnihiel, a man of great stature in the city of Tarvel. The capital was only newly built towards the end of this Age that had lasted some two thousand years since the Age of Defeat.

Jarien loved to hunt as a youngling, and his Father Johrdios taught him to use his bow with stealth and precision, though when deer or rabbit hunting as a youngling, Jarien was told to always use a steel tipped arrow, rather than an arrow of flame. 'A rabbit is hard to eat when it is blasted to bits!' his father would say.

Jarien did not really like the killing side of hunting, and his Mother Adeilia, born of the Dremelden Clan, told him this was because his Dremelden blood cared for animals more than the Torvellen. So, he was in conflict in this way, for he truly loved rabbits, and deer, and all the animals of the forests surrounding Tarvel in those days. His chest had truly ached the first time he had fired a burning arrow into a small bunny. His reasoning was he wanted to improve his aim at a moving target, although the poor bunny was just sitting and grazing when he fired.

He cried that entire night, after he made a small grave and tombstone for the baby rabbit. His father helped him collect the pieces and place them in a small wooden box, where Jarien also placed an amulet his mother had gifted him at birth. He wanted the little bunny to have something shiny to light up the box when it was buried beneath the dark earth. The amulet was of a honeyeater with eyes of pearl, forged in silver, though it glowed with some enchantment, and so he parted with it willingly to try to repay the poor bunny.

Glimmer!

Adem felt pain ... Incredible agonising pain that flooded his senses ... He could remember nothing other than eternal pain ... Skin was flayed from his flesh ... His eyes were gouged by claws ... His mind felt as if it were in a furnace ... He heard a deep bellowing voice that filled him with terror ... SO, YOU HAVE COME TO FACE YOUR DOOM, SON OF ODIN! I LAUGH AT YOUR FEEBLE FLESH. I SNEER AT YOUR TINY BONES! I COULD CRUSH YOU LIKE A WORM UNDER A ROCK! YOU ARE WITHOUT HOPE! YOU SHALL SUFFER BEFORE YOUR DEATH!

He saw a shape, a mist of shadows rising to take the form of a giant male torso and arms ... clawed black fists and a skull like a ram with twisted black horns ... its eyes were garnet flames ... still he fell, through endless darkness, and the great shadow pursued him as he fell ... the pain became unbearable.

Glimmer!

—Jarien also loved to hunt with the spear, for he was named after many Heroes of the ancient world who had also been named Jarien. In each life they took the legendary title of Stone-Spear. His father even told him often during his younger years that Jarien was in fact the true reincarnation of those ancient Heroes of Will. A man who is bound by fate to the Hero Chains and the Great Cycle. His father was told this by a Reader when Jarien was first born, the Ael Tarael telling Johrdios that the soul of a Hero dwelt in his son, and that he would one day become a legend of the Age of Heroes.

Jarien did not truly believe this when he became older, for he had never remembered anything from a past life he was supposed to have lived. His father told him bedtime stories of all the ancient Heroes of Will, but Jarien's favourite stories were of course always about the Hero Jarien Stone-Spear. Despite his doubts that he really was this man of legend reborn, Jarien hoped to one day live up to the legend by fulfilling his proclaimed destiny.

Glimmer!

Adem felt as if he were being whipped, beaten, and burnt all at once while his bones were ground into dust ... Then he sensed Jean, her mind and his connected through the kigare ... He could not hear her thoughts, but he could sense her feelings, she too felt pain, but it was not physical pain, it was suffering, as if his pain made her suffer ... Images entered his mind from hers... Images that translated into words ... the words he could make out of it were ... It is not real! You must fight!

Glimmer!

Jarien Stone-Spear was many men, though only one man also, and throughout his memories of past lives, the one that haunted him most was during the Boli-Kuldr Wars. It was when he watched his family being slaughtered by Boli-Kuldr in the small village where he was raised. He had survived only for the fact that he had been out hunting with the spear when the Boli-Kuldr invaded his village. He had rushed back to investigate when he saw smoke from that direction, returning with stealth to peer from the forest's edge, where he witnessed that terrible fate for his mother, father, sisters and brothers.

In that lifetime he had been second named Atelgoroth, born of the Torvellen Clans at the Dawn of the Age of Heroes. He lived with the horror of those memories for a further sixty years, until he finally attempted to avenge his family by marching to the East Lands with only a host of companions to fight at his side. On the fourth week of battle, his soul returned to the Cycle of the Hero Chain. Yet the fully-grown reincarnation known as Jarien Trahvesnihiel was more than proud of the sacrifice of Jarien Atelgoroth. His memories were vivid of the tens of thousands of demons that bathed the scorched Eastland soil with their dark blood, as they were ripped to shreds by the Stone-Spear and the Elemental Magic of the Legendary Hero of Will. It was upon this memory that Jarien Trahvesnihiel built his ambition to be remembered for such valour, and upon this heartache that he forged his hatred for Jinn-Fendinn. His thirst for revenge. Even for a man who he had never known, yet a man who was also a part of his very soul.

Glimmer!

Adem reached for Angel-Magic! Avalanches of fire and rivers of snow filled his soul. The pain vanished, though he still fell, Jinn-Fendinn looming over him as they descended into flames ... Adem shouted a word, it was in the immortal language ... the word translated to ... 'Blades of Odin!'

Lightning launched from his hands; slicing through the huge muscular torso of the Jinn-Lord. Blue bolts shaped like huge swords that lanced upwards again and again. Blades thirty feet long tore burning blue wounds through Jinn-Fendinn. The Shadow-Lord barked like a giant wolf. Still they fell, still the Blades of Odin launched upwards from his open palms ... More images sent by Jean through the kigare filled his vision to create a language ... the words were; You can fly, Adem!

Glimmer!

Jarien Atelgoroth only ever loved one woman in his lifetime, an Elf girl he had grown up with in the same village where his family was murdered. The youngling girl—Elsalos was her name—had been taken captive by the Boli-Kuldr to be stored in a cage for their cookpots when moving on the roads and fields in their relentless campaigns of destruction.

Jarien could not bear to see another of his kin murdered, and his love for this girl was the strongest emotion he had ever experienced. It had even been considered by their parents that the pair should wed when they were fully grown, and these thoughts stirred emotions in Jarien that overpowered his fears, and so he set out on the road to track the Boli-Kuldr horde; seeking his chance to rescue his beloved.

The journey was long and hard for him, though his Torvellen blood was akin to the fleet footed swiftness of not only the ancient Aelfin, but also their Dremelden Wood Kin cousins. He moved like a phantom across the hills, fields and valleys. Remaining hidden by shrub, tree and boulder, as he tracked the hoof prints of the horde for many days. Each day half terrified that he would be too late to save dear Elsalos.

One-night Jarien found the horde camped by a riverside in a deep valley, where he crept towards their perimeter with stealth in the shadows. The moon was bright that night, though he could not risk another day. He had found cookpots along the journey, and he had searched the remains in terror of finding some remnant of Elsalos' clothing or jewellery, and he was trembling though relieved that he did not.

He had not stopped to eat at all that day, and so he moved to a berry shrub to put something in his stomach to avoid it making any grumbling noises as he searched the camp with Aelfin sight, spying for any sign of the cages where he might hope to see his darling Elsalos.

A Grimwel guard was patrolling nearby, and when the little goblin creature passed within range, Jarien had a very clever idea. He had spotted some cages near the centre of the camp, and he had up till now been dreading the suicidal mission he would be forced to attempt; however, the goblin guard brought a potentially lifesaving opportunity.

He snuck up upon the guard using Wood Kin hunting strategy, which was made all the easier for the fact that the Grimwel wore a heavy iron helmet that blocked its vision anywhere but straight ahead, with a face guard and pointed horns rising from the helm. This Jarien realised, would provide him with the perfect disguise.

He used his hunting blade to slit the little creature's throat, and after dragging it into the nearby bushes, found that its clothing and helmet fit him quite well. He realised his Elven spear and bow might give him away, so he bundled them up with his clothes and left them hidden some distance from the dead Grimwel. He could not spare the time to bury the creature. He did not want to use the goblin's sword sheath for his hunting knife either, because the goblin blade might have been dipped in poison, so his only option was to take the little sword and horn shaped bow and quiver, as he casually stepped back out from hiding, and continued to march on his patrol.

Glimmer!

Adem shouted another word in the Immortal Tongue, the words translated to, 'Wings of Odin!' Wings of blue flame blossomed on either side of his form, rising out of his shoulder blades to span the length of two horses! Instantly he soared upwards, slicing a hole straight through the chest of Jinn-Fendinn with four of his Blades of Odin, through its back and up through the eternal pits of darkness he flew ... Fendinn One pursued him ... Shouting his name ... Shouting that he would die ... The great claw reached up for him ... Darkness ... Endless pain ... Burning alive ... he couldn't breathe ... he sensed Jean through the kigare ... You must fight, Adem!

Blades of Odin ... he flew upwards through the heart of Fendinn with four blades of Fire-Magic protecting him in a diamond! Wings of Odin carried him high into the blackness towards the tunnel of light. Jinn-Fendinn roared ... YOU WILL DIE SLOWLY, SON OF ODIN! PAIN WILL BE YOUR BLESSING BEFORE THE END! Blades of Odin fell from his open palms to strike the top of Fendinn's skull. Two blades, then four, then six, and then eight. Fifty-feet-long blades that glowed with the Magic of the Aesir.

The blades swirled into a vortex within the chest and skull of Fendinn. Jinn-Fendinn roared in outrage. Lightning burst from the Blades of Odin, thick blue bolts that swirled around Fendinn's form like giant fire pythons. The Jinn-Lord began to fall, into eternal darkness. Adem soared towards the light above with the Wings of Odin carrying him like a great eagle. Rings of light surrounded him in the darkness, then light enveloped his form, bathing him in its bliss. He shouted one word, 'Victory!'

Chapter 11

The Saviours Reborn

Adem collapsed ... Blurred black and white squares filled his vision ... He was bathed in sweat ... His breathing laboured ... He looked up ... Tobin and Orion stood over him, a smile on the kings' faces. Orion reached out with his right hand, 'Welcome, Son of Odin, you are reborn of blood and battle, of horror and turmoil, of hope and justice, of courage and honour. Rise Son of Odin! Rise and receive the blessings of the Immortal Kings, for you are the fate of Kismeria. You are home, Adem Highlander.'

Adem took Orion's hand and pushed himself up to try to stand. His legs were like boiled water and his knees ached, but finally, he was standing tall with his back straight, though he still felt quite dizzy. He turned to see Jean kneeling before Lydia and Elmira. Lydia spoke the Rites of Passage for Jean, 'Welcome, Daughter of Thor, you are reborn of love and war, of hate and retribution, of disaster and despair, of wisdom and fate. Rise Daughter of Thor! Rise and receive the blessings of the Immortal Queens, for you are the hope of Kismeria. You are home, Jean Fairsythe.'

Jean looked just as exhausted as she made her first attempt to stand, then taking Elmira and Lydia by the hand, she was hauled to her feet to stand proudly with a light in her eyes and a darkness that Adem had never seen in her before. He immediately wanted to ask her what she had seen, what she had lived through, though it was forbidden. When she looked at him, he sensed deep love and endless hate for him through the kigare.

What did she see? Why would she hate me?

His love for her had grown a thousand times as he had lived all those lives, and in every life, he had loved her and made love to her. The soft touch of her skin against his own was a memory that burnt through his consciousness. Made his blood rise, made him weak and strong at the same time. But they were just fleeting moments inside the Archway, a lifetime in a heartbeat. What had she experienced that would make her feel such a way?

It took him a moment to realise that his wings were gone. Angel-Magic still filled him to the brink. He was on edge, feeling anxious and unwell.

Carl was next to fall from the doorway of light, followed by Wil, both collapsing in a heap before the Immortal Kings welcomed them with the Rites of Passage and helped them to stand. How many more lifetimes had they seen during those moments after Adem had first emerged from the Arch? Did they trust him more now, or less? Were they willing to fight till the end, or did they want to turn and flee? No! They were the Saviours reborn; they were the fate of Kismeria. They would fight till their last breath.

The days that followed were filled with meetings with Alit'aren and Ael Tarael, captains, generals, lords and ladies, meetings to plan the battle, plans to win the war. Adem, Carl, Wil, and Jean were in every meeting together with the Immortal Kings and Queens. Huge maps of the Free Lands covered the carved wooden desks within each Meeting Chamber, including the War Chamber, where a map of the entire Free Lands was displayed on the floor made up of a tile mosaic. Statues from a large game of mohrthra'daeghal stood three feet high, horses, soldiers, wielders, rulers, marking out the lands and the state of their rule or disorder.

Lord Kelderath was in that meeting, dressed in crimson armour embossed with the Golden Owl upon the chest, like his Heart Guard soldiers who stood behind him in a line. He held his conical crimson helmet by his side with his Agnar sword across his back. The man was pompous arrogance right down to his core, though he knew more about battle than Arig Flame-Bow it seemed. He pointed to the chess pieces that symbolised armies and positioned them in places that Adem had never envisaged before.

The rest listened to Kelderath as if they were receiving a lecture from a great scholar. Even Lord Farrigan and Lady Gwyndel listened attentively and gave little interruption or discord to his plans. Arig and Terese seemed to hold the man in reverence even after their first meeting in the War Chamber. Adem thought they saw Kelderath as a great ally, someone who they could depend on, someone they could trust.

Lord Maldros and Lord Denel argued with Kelderath's plans, however. It was hard to decide who was the most pompous out of the three, as they poked at the statues with a finger or a walking-stick, giving orders, suggesting strategies that they assumed would be followed, and disagreeing with one another until it seemed these meetings would outlast the war. But they were all great captains in their own right, each had something to offer that the other seemed to have missed; all were of great value to Adem.

Five days after the final meetings in the War Chamber, on a warm spring morning with a crisp cool breeze blowing from the south, the armies of Nordhel began to mobilize. The four armies were to travel together in the beginning and then separate when they neared the borders of the closest revolt. That was Charkel, over forty miles south-west of Nordhel, a Nordic province also populated by over forty thousand mortals, mostly farmers and villagers.

Charkel was the capital, a fortified stone wall and watch towers surrounding a moderate-sized city. The farmer armies there had laid siege to the capital after Lord and Lady Aravon managed to escape with a force of one thousand cavalry. They had known about the farmer armies marching on Charkel before they fled to seek aid from Nordhel.

The fields surrounding the main gate of Nordhel were swarming with soldiers, Ael Tarael, Alit'aren, Aldebrands, Reaven Archers, and Wood Kin. The Nordics made up over twenty thousand of their numbers, with the entire army totalling over fifty thousand. That included the sei'vani and other servants, including fletchers, wheelwrights, cart drivers, blacksmiths, and cooks. Thousands of tents were loaded on carts, along with other supplies for weapons, horses, and meals.

Altherin horses made up the majority of mounts for the immortals while the mortal soldiers rode mounts similar to thoroughbreds and warhorses.

Adem sat in the saddle of the dark altherin stallion who had rescued him from the Rahkwel in the East Lands. He named him Tarkson, an immortal word meaning Fire Dancer. He wore Alit'aren black with a black breastplate worked with golden dragons, his Aldebrand cloak flowing behind him on the breeze. Carl and Wil rode to either side of Tarkson on the altherin horses they had adopted after passing through the Travelling Gate.

They also wore black coats and trousers with brown leather boots, though Carl wore a crimson breastplate and Wil's was golden, both with black dragons scrawled across the chest. Jean and Terese rode a short distance away with Lydia and Elmira. All were dressed in bright silks and female breastplates and all rode altherin mares. Tobin and Orion rode to the left of Adem and his friends in black coats and breastplates. Torin and Kailus also rode with them, the Agnar in a grey coat and steel armour, Torin in a black coat and cloak. The mood from those four was that they were on edge, like steel waiting to be unsheathed.

Hundreds of Aldebrands and Alit'aren were in their war garb, called the ghoda'sidhe. They wore cloth or armoured masks that covered their mouths and noses, with matching gauntlets of the Rohjor colours though some wore emerald green or mauve, including Wood Kin and Reaven Archers amongst the Dremelden. Their clothing was shadow black cloth wrapped tightly around their arms and legs with black cloth covering their heads. It was the first time Adem saw the traditional battle costume, so different to their everyday uniforms. Some also wore black breastplates or lacquered to match their masks.

When Adem's line finally began to move, Carl and Wil moved up on either side of him for conversation. They had not spoken about their shared experiences inside the Arch. It still seemed a subject none of them wished to share. Speaking of it in public was forbidden, and Adem had now learnt that immortals would hear them easily.

'How have you felt after you started accepting your Healing-Magic?' he asked Carl, who looked at him as if he been struck in the chest. Finally, Wil replied, 'I feel myself again, for the most part. I still have nightmares. I was never like this at home, well, not always. I still feel ... I don't know, edgy and suspicious, like I fear everyone I talk to is harbouring secrets and wicked thoughts.' Adem breathed a deep sigh at that; it was similar for him too. Then Carl admitted, 'You were right to insist that we accept our Healing-Magic, Adem. I feel much better now. Though, Jinn-Magic seems stronger since we came out of the Chameleon Arch. I can sense it even when I'm not holding Angel-Magic, not nearly as strongly, but it is there.'

'I know what you mean,' Adem said, 'but perhaps it is just that we are stronger now, so our sense of Jinn-Magic seems stronger. If our ability to wield is enhanced, it makes sense that Jinn-Magic would be too, right?'

'I guess so,' Carl said. 'But what if Jinn-Magic really is growing stronger? How long will we be able to resist its effects if it continues to grow? I'm really worried, Adem. I'm concerned for us, for Jean, for all of Kismeria. I understand now how important it is that we succeed here.' The last was a great relief to hear. He needed his friends to take on the responsibilities they were appointed; after all, they were the Saviours.

He tried to think of the right response, but all he could manage was, 'We made it through a life and death situation together at Bright, and I was there for you. I didn't let you down, nor did you. I promise I will always be there to do my best. I won't let you down.' As for Carl's question about Jinn-Magic, he didn't know what the right answer would be, so he kept silent. They rode for the next hour in complete silence except for the trod of hooves and the sound of clinking steel.

Jean rode with Terese on one side and the Immortal Queens on the other, the four of them deep in conversation the entire time though Adem couldn't have eavesdropped if he wanted to. He wondered if Terese was telling Jean what he and his friends had discussed.

'I'm worried about my wife and daughter too,' Carl said. 'I mean what if these wormholes we passed through are not just dimensional portals? What if they make us travel through time as well? That would mean my wife and child would be growing older without me – they could live their entire lives without me before I returned.

'I know we have a duty here, Adem, but I have my duty to my family too. If I can find a way to take us home, I'm going. If we have that chance, we should all go together. I'll leave you behind if I have to. Don't think I won't.'

The nearby soldiers who had been making conversation fell silent at that.

Adem looked to Orion and Tobin to see that their faces were troubled, as were Torin's and Kailus's. Obviously, the chance of the Saviours abandoning them to their fate had never been considered before now. Adem thought for a moment about those last words before he said, 'This is my home. This is what I was born to do. Think of all the training we have been through these last few months. They have been shaping us into weapons to fight for them. We have been reborn through our experiences in the Arch—'

'Don't speak of that, Adem!' Carl barked. 'Not here anyway, I remember what I saw in there, that place was ... wrong, evil. I will never be the same person after that experience.

'I was reborn when my father baptised me in the sea back home, Adem. That is all that matters to me. My faith, and my family. You were also reborn when my father baptised you in your parents' pool. I was there, Adem. I witnessed your rebirth. You were saved then and there, your soul promised to God. If you stay here, you will become so mad or evil you will destroy your own soul with foul deeds.

'I saw what you did to those men who attacked us. I saw what you are capable of. What will you do next, Adem?'

'It wasn't murder,' Adem protested. 'It was self-defence. I reacted harshly, I know, perhaps it was a result of the training, a reflex. Those men were going to kill us, Carl.

'Besides, you just said that you know we must succeed here, and then you tell me you are planning to find a way home.

'I meant what I said, Carl. This is my home until we reach our goals; it is my path to follow. We were chosen for this. Right back at Bright we were given this task to fulfil. Perhaps we were born for it.'

'I don't know about that, Adem,' Carl said. 'All I know is that we are in way over our heads here. You remember the Rahkwel, don't you, and the Nymloc in the East Lands?'

'Of course, I remember—' Adem began, before Carl cut him off with, 'Well that is just a flyspeck of an army compared to what we will face at the Ragnarök Battle. We are outmatched, Adem. What hope do we have to stand against Jinn-Fendinn? We will surely die here. I know it.'

Adem tried to think of a winning argument; the best he could come up with for now was, 'Suppose we find a way home. What if Fendinn finds a way to open a wormhole and bring those demons to Earth? Sure, we have weapons, but we don't have Angel-Magic there. No Battle Angels. I can't tell you what I learnt in the Arch, but I can tell you not to lose hope.'

Carl snorted and scowled at him before saying, 'I know why you would say that. I saw you up there, in the sky. You are the Blue Water Dragon. There can be no doubt of that.' That brought a wave of shocked murmurs from dozens of nearby soldiers, including the Immortal Kings and Torin and Kailus. 'I know that is why you think there is still a reason to trust to hope,' Carl continued. 'It is your destiny to lead us to victory. I have no remorse to be a lesser part in this Pagan ritual. I just wish you would try to think with your mind instead of always thinking with your heart.'

Adem did not know what to make of that, it was forbidden to speak in public of even shared events inside the Arch, and Adem felt that he always thought with his mind as well as his heart. He wondered if it was a quip about his obsession with polygraphs.

They rode in silence from then onwards until they made camp at the end of the day when the sun was a golden ball sinking behind dark forested peaks. The land hadn't changed much during the day's ride, mostly flat fields of matted brown grass with plenty of green spring shoots rising up through the soil. Some blue and yellow flowers decorated the fields, and pine and ash and oak trees were scattered along the way.

To the east, he could also see a forest at the foot of the Harknon Mountains at sunset. Nordhel was nowhere in sight when they made camp. A cluster of ancient ruins surrounded the fields where they pitched their tents and tethered the horses. It looked like an old defence fortification used by Nordhel, though the remaining wall lines were mostly only a few feet high on most sides.

Statues, half-ruined watchtowers and stone archways formed patchwork patterns along the horizon, dark-grey stone covered in creeper-vines with pink flowers. Mountains and cliff faces formed a perimeter on another edge of the camp. It was a sturdy place to form a defence. Though it was unlikely they would have any trouble this close to the capital. The first guarded watchtowers were still a further day's ride north-west of this location. Altherin horses would normally cross that distance in half a day, though an army this size took much longer to travel. Torches and lanterns were lit in the fading light, as well as large campfires, where cooks began to boil stews and prepare spits for roast deer and lamb.

The entire camp spread out with hundreds of fires and thousands of tents of every shape and colour imaginable. The walled tents for the Immortal Kings and Queens were two enormous twelve pole structures of red-and-blue stripes. Two of equal sizes were set up behind those two, one for Adem, Carl, and Wil, the other for Jean and Terese. Aldebrands and soldiers were stationed around Adem's tent, and he had to wait for two soldiers to raise their crossed pikes before he could push back the door flap to enter.

Chapter 12

The High-Servants

Inside, the tent was furnished with three beds, four high-backed oak chairs, a tall mirror, and six-mirrored lamps, as well as a large brass bound chest at the foot of each bed. Thick carpets of greens, blues, and yellows worked with birds and flowers covered most of the floor; and despite the clutter, there was still room to pace if desired.

Carl was still glowering over their discussions earlier in the day; Wil was quiet but seemed only tense about their arguments. Adem sat on one of the cots that were all a decent size considering they had to be hauled on a cart. They all sat on their beds in silence for a time until Adem suggested they practice their meditation techniques until supper arrived.

The others agreed, and they folded their legs on the beds and sat in prayer position with their eyes closed as they made soft deep humming chants. It was a mixture of traditional Christian prayer with Yoga and the Kismerian method rolled into one. Adem liked to work some Tai Chi into it as well though Carl and Wil were still not familiar with the technique.

Of course, they were experience at creating balls of fire with their bare hands which was the ultimate desire of anyone who practiced Tai Chi, though whether anyone on Earth had ever succeeded was unlikely. Adem felt Angel-Magic flow into him, rivers of ice and avalanches of fire, mixed with foul corruption like decaying eels coursing through his veins. He slowly drew more and more of teron into him, much more than he could have held before passing through the Arch.

As he did, he felt Carl and Wil drawing more also; each was holding more than he could have before he was reborn. Then without discussing it first, they linked with one another; it was partly done through the will of their Battle Angels and the kigare, and the rest was their own decision, a shared request, and acceptance to link.

Teron rose like an erupting volcano in each of them, much, much more than they could have held unaided. Soon Adem was unsure if the humming sound he heard was his own voice or Angel-Magic itself resonating within the tent. A cool breeze swept over his face, and he opened his eyes partway to see Orion and Tobin bursting through the tent flap.

Their faces were filled with panic, with teron enhancing his senses, Adem clearly made out drops of sweat on each of their faces! For an immortal to sweat, it must have been serious. For the Immortal Kings to sweat, it was obviously a matter of life or death.

'Stop this at once!' Tobin growled. 'You must let go of the Angel-Magic immediately! You will break the Hero Chains that allow you to wield!' Adem's eyes were fully opened now, he realised the danger once they had spoken, though it took some strength of will to let go of the endless bliss and raging chaos of teron.

Then he released the Angel-Magic, as did his friends, and all three gave deep sighs that sounded like regret. Returning to life without teron was like waking from the most beautiful dream of ultimate pleasures and having an icy bucket of water tipped over your head. It was something like that, all the warmth and ecstasy that filled you was ripped out of you and you were left bland, dull, and numb by comparison.

'You must not hold that much Angel-Magic without your Battle Angels to guide your wielding,' Orion explained. 'Even linked you are in danger of losing the ability to ever wield again. I know you have grown in your abilities since your rebirth, it is the same for all who pass through the Chameleon Arch, but you must contain your desire to draw too much. One slip in your wielding and you could have turned this entire army into a bonfire! We feared you had all gone ... we feared Jinn-Magic had driven you to draw so much.

'I will send Ael Tarael in for your Healing-Magic, before you eat. Don't touch teron again this evening unless we are attacked. Even then, you must not enter battle unless we advise it. You have an army to serve you, you must conserve your strength, and we must preserve you to meet your fate.'

The two men left then without another word, both wearing expressions of dire concern. Adem was sure Orion had paused before saying, 'we feared you had all gone mad,' and then chose his words more carefully. Three immortal women entered not long after, all Nordic women with golden hair tied in thick braids, two with blue eyes and one with green. The green-eyed woman – Almer Farbris was her name – attended to Adem.

She wore a dress of dark green silk slashed with silver across the breasts and thighs. He would have called her plain faced for an immortal, though she was still very pretty, and youthful looking. She had a lovely smile that he would not have called plain however, and she flashed her pearl white teeth when she scanned him with Angel-Magic.

'Where is Lira?' Adem asked before she began the Healing. 'She normally sees to this.'

'Lira Tolnock is indisposed at present,' the woman said in a crisp clear Nordic accent. Her voice was not musical like Lydia and Elmira, more childlike and self-important. Then she began the Healing-Magic, waves of ice flowed through his form, he shivered, then convulsed, fighting to avoid flailing his arms and legs; his fists and jaw clenched. When it was over, he found he was famished as was usual.

The women left and Adem and his friends stood and stretched and rubbed their eyes. He felt refreshed, his symptoms receding immediately after she finished the Angel-Magic. Not long after three sei'vani entered with bowls of lamb stew, slices of roast deer, and a large loaf of bread for each on three silver trays. They were Nordic men, all with eyes downcast and a kind of humbleness about them, despite the fact that they radiated the presence of tame lions. They did not give their names, so Adem did not ask. He was not sure if it was rude to question sei'vani, he would have to speak with Torin about that.

When the men left, Adem and his friends ate with a controlled frenzy, gulping down mouthfuls of hot stew and making sliced deer sandwich after sandwich. When he was finished, he felt he still had room for some cheese though he did not want to seem piggish. Then he heard music and singing outside the tent. It was some way off, but Arawn told him the tune was the Wishing Frog. Adem looked to Carl enthusiastically, Carl smiled back at him, and they all stood to make their way out to the festivities.

***

The furnishings inside Jean's tent were suited to a queen's palace. Everything was gilded, the chairs, the bedposts, the mirrored lamps, the carpets, everywhere she looked was golden. She and Terese sat on high-backed chairs carved in the shapes of lions, eating their evening meals from silver trays on small round polished oak tables. Jean sipped the stew as it was still very hot, and her breath did little to cool it. Terese had hardly touched her meal; she sat straight backed and stared at Jean with eyes that stabbed like daggers through her heart.

The immortal woman had been particularly on edge ever since Jean emerged from the Chameleon Arch. Sometimes Jean suspected the woman knew everything she had seen inside the Arch. She had inquired whether Terese had ever been through the Arch in any of her former lives, but the woman would not provide a straight answer.

One thing Terese would admit to, was her concern over Jean's increase in wielding Angel-Magic. It was a surge to be exact; she was easily ten times stronger than she had been before she entered the Arch. Being stronger had its benefits of course, though Terese seemed almost obsessed over the risks. Her focus became more inward when the sound of music and singing drifted through the tent walls.

She looked as if she were locked in some ancient memory; Jean wondered how often that occurred ever since the woman had admitted remembering so much about her lover from a past life. Then her focus returned to the present, regarding Jean like a hawk spying a fox, intimidated yet determined to make a meal out of her.

'You must meditate before you can venture out to explore the campsite,' Terese lectured. 'If you don't meditate every day you may lose control of your ability to wield. That could end in disaster for us all. Breathing and focus, those are the keys to controlling your abilities.' Jean sighed and rolled her eyes, placing the spoon back on the edge of the bowl before she said, 'Yes, I know all that, Terese, I know. But surely, I can skip meditation for one evening to go enjoy the revelry. This is exciting for me! It's the most amazing experience I've ever had! I feel like shouting for joy, but ...'

'What is it, Jean?' Terese asked. 'You look pale all of a sudden. Are you ill?'

'No, it's nothing, it's just ... I feel different since coming out of the Archway, like I'm a different person entirely sometimes. The things I saw in there, the person I became ... Oh, I know I can't tell you about it ... it's forbidden—'

'You can tell me,' Terese said. 'You can tell me anything, Jean. What did you see?'

'I saw ... so many things ... awful things ... the future of Kismeria ... and the future for ... for Adem, Carl, and Wil.'

'What happened to them?' Terese asked.

'I want to tell you ... but Lydia and Elmira say it could affect the fate of Kismeria if I tell a soul what I saw ... but what troubles me most is not what became of Adem or the other two. It was who I became that frightens me ... I'm terrified that I will become something I never imagined I could be ... weak ... heartless ... cruel and unrelenting ... but it is my destiny ... how can I change my destiny?'

Terese studied her for some time as if she were trying to see inside her skull before she replied, 'Some say that our destinies are not fixed things, though we may see glimpses of the future. That future may change due to choices we make that alter events, resulting in a different destiny. Do not worry yourself with what you saw in that place.

'It is designed to display your worst nightmares, to test your greatest fears, to make you stronger. I'm sure it has too. Finish your meal and you may join your friends.' Jean smiled at that, for Terese to allow her to skip her meditation was a small favour; to allow her to spend time with Adem was a change she would never have expected. Perhaps their futures were not carved in stone after all.

***

Tairark Vampire-King strode through the forest of thick oak, pine, and redwood trees that towered above him with dark canopies blocking out the light of the moon. A faint blue glow still covered most of what was not completely shrouded in darkness. Behind him stood one of his Brothers, Torkhan Dread-Lord, who wore a silver skull marked with dark runes, and he was known as the Lord of the Souljhin; the silver skull was his sigil as well as theirs. Another large silver skull was embossed upon his black racinthen breastplate; the enchanted armour absorbed magic and was impervious to steel.

Tairark also wore black armour beneath his hooded cloak of shadows; none were taking chances now that they knew the boy Highlander had learnt the Spear of Odin. Their Brother was still recovering from his wounds taken in that moment that the boy learnt a fraction of his true ability.

Tairark's mask was a silver human skull with sleek eyes and long golden fangs, the vampire sigil. Torkhan was also robed in a hooded cloak that seemed to be made of darkness. The pair would have been invisible in the shadows if not for the yellow-orange flames that burnt where their eyes should be. They both stood silently watching the campfires burn of the so-called Saviour army.

It was a sizeable force, more than Tairark and his Brother would attack; though behind them in the darkness of the forest waited over one thousand Fists of Nymloc and Jacoulra—one hundred for every Fist—with over one hundred and fifty Souljhin. They were Torkhan's army, brought here through the Travelling Gate situated at the foot of the Harknon Mountains. They remained hidden for the time being, joined in part with the shadows of the forest so that the Aldebrands could not detect their presence, though the enemy would know of their presence when the demons returned to their forms of flesh and bone.

Tairark had brought over five thousand of his vampire army from the Southlands. Beyond the southern borders, his vampire armies waited for the Return, the days when the High-Jinn's armies marched upon the Free Lands once more. They were creatures more of flesh and bone than the demons, though they could mask their presence for a short time using the abilities gained from their most recent feed. Vampires could build their abilities over the years though they were unable to use most powers unless they had taken a fresh victim. Blood was the source of their power, fresh human blood, and they would feed tonight.

***

Adem sat cross-legged in front of the large campfire where a Torvellen woman was singing to tunes played on a flute, harp, and drum by three Nordic men. Carl and Wil sat to either side of him, and Jean stood nearby with Terese shadowing her. None of them had brought their bows, except for Jean. She seemed to want to keep her Battle Angels close at all times, even when there was no apparent danger, or perhaps it was Terese's influence that made her keep the emerald bow slanted across her shoulders.

She wore a pale blue silk skirt and a sky blue woollen coat with gold buttons, white silk stockings, and blue leather boots. Terese was dressed almost identically in dark green woollen stockings and an emerald silk skirt and coat.

A decent-sized crowd had gathered to listen to the music and the woman's fine voice. Soldiers, Ael Tarael, Alit'aren, Wood Kin, over two hundred stood in an arc surrounding one side of the campfire with the musicians on the other. The rest of the camp was a scene of men and women going about their business or following strict orders. Servants bustling left and right with arms burdened with bundles. Armoured soldiers marching in small groups carrying swords or shields towards the outer defence lines. Alit'aren strolling with an air of pride and dignity, often trailed by a host of Ael Tarael, like motherly foxes patrolling after potentially rabid wolves.

—A horn sounded on the outskirts of the camp, followed by others to the east and west! They were warnings to alert the camp that an attack was imminent! Suddenly the faces of those Alit'aren were filled with controlled rage; Ael Tarael moving about with expressions of caution and unease. Lightning flared on the edges of the camp, first a single blue bolt, followed by fourteen thick posts of light that flared before vanishing.

Moments later a torrent of lightning bolts began to fall from that section of camp borderline. Twenty, fifty, a hundred bolts blasting the earth with every passing breath. Adem watched the night turn into daylight in that area, as a fierce roar like ferocious lions filled the air. Lightning bolts increased in a frenzy of colour, striking far off into the distance in waves of magic. Adem realised there was a vast demon army attempting to infiltrate the front lines!

Alit'aren and Ael Tarael were already fighting with desperation, as the sound of lions roaring filled the air again. Ten thousand lions! This demon army was a massive force, and they had caught them by surprise! Aldebrands rushing by began to shout at the top of their lungs, 'Demons! There are tens of thousands of them! To the east! Defend the east!'

After hearing those words, Adem had his sword drawn. The blade glowed cool blue in the darkness. The two hundred or more who had been gathering to listen to the music were now huddling around the Saviours; lions protecting their cubs. Aldebrands held glowing rune marked blades while Ael Tarael and Alit'aren wielded balls of coloured fire floating above their palms. 'Protect the Saviours!' the men shouted. Lightning filled the sky to the east, a thousand blades of fire lancing from the heavens.

Arrows of coloured flame and spheres of fire began to fly to the east also; he estimated there were at least five hundred Aldebrands there by now. Perhaps two hundred Alit'aren and Ael Tarael, perhaps more. They had not protected the camp as well as they might have if they had suspected this. Shouts of commotion sounded all around, warriors raced towards the line of defenders, while others prepared to defend other sections of the camp.

Orion and Tobin appeared amongst a crowd of Aldebrands with Lydia and Elmira close behind. The two kings wielded their rune marked blades that glowed amber and emerald. The queens wielded balls of blue flame with fierce determination in their gaze. They moved to surround Adem and his friends, forming an inner circle with the two hundred other warriors surrounding.

To the north and west the sound of horse cries filled the air as soldiers attempted to prepare mounts for a charge. Kelderath would be seeing to that, along with Maldros and Morthros. They would see this as their failure and hold themselves responsible for leading the army to victory. They were bold men, but they had obviously not planned for an attack of this scale.

The Harp of Souls had been left at Nordhel to be protected behind stone walls. The kings had decided taking the Harp with them would have been too great a risk. If it fell into the hands of the enemy, there would be no hope of victory at the Battle of Ragnarök, for Odin's Harp was made to be used during that battle. Therefore, it would be up to the Battle Angels to decide their fate. Adem wanted to fight; this was his battle as much as theirs.

'We will ride to the front lines and summon our Battle Angels!' Adem shouted to his friends. 'When they link, they will feast on ki'mera, building their strength and our own!' As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw dark shapes flying overhead. They were human shapes! – Men and women wearing dark armour and clothing, some carrying spears or swords or axes.

Some of the soldiers began to shout, 'Vampires! Thousands of them! Look, to the skies!' They began to swoop down and launch upon soldiers, knocking them to the ground and biting at their necks. Others landed to cross blades with Aldebrands and other defenders, and these vampires were Agnars in their own rights. Lightning quick in their movements, some cutting Aldebrands and other Agnars down with forms that were considered simple and old style if not obsolete. It did not take long before a swarm of vampires had surrounded the circle of defenders protecting Adem and his companions. Some launching savagely to tear out throats with their teeth and claws, while others began to cut into the lines of defence with swift blades that glowed with dark powers.

Orion roared, 'Summon your Battle Angels! Do it now, Adem Highlander!'

Adem heard Jean shout the name, 'Tanriel!'

Waves of red fire began to blast outwards towards the vampires that flew overhead, and also incinerating a vast portion of those that attacked on the outskirts of their defence. First a single wave that set dozens of the creatures on fire and knocked them out the sky. Then wave after wave that turned vampire flesh into balls of red flame, as those flying overhead began to crash land throughout the campsite. Tanriel rose above Jean's head, over twelve feet above her and climbing higher.

As the Battle Angel morphed into view, that same force of love and devotion was felt deeply by Adem and his friends, the companionship of a legendary hero, who would fight with every magic she contained to rid this place of the evil threat that was closing down around them. It was in a way almost like a beautiful song, that was felt more than heard, some ancient Power of the Great Angels that fed confidence and rejuvenation into the souls of those they protected. Adem, Jean, Carl and Wil each drank in a flood of teron and terael, filling their blood and bones with the ecstasy of Angel-Magic, though the three men felt the agony of Jinn-Magic like shadows in their veins: maggots in their flesh.

Tanriel's wings of light glowed pale blue, her armour crimson and gold bands that burned with Elemental Magic. Golden hair and eyes of blue flame, she was an image of majestic and superior spiritual energy, as the sense of love and devotion flowed from her form like a river of light.

Ki'mera orbs began to fly towards Jean and her emerald bow from the burning vampire forms, a shining halo of energies that were absorbed at the same moment that Tanriel's strength increased dramatically. Hurling a spear of crimson light that suddenly became dozens of shafts, striking through the hearts of vampires that fell in twitching piles of scorched bones and ash!

All of this occurred in the seconds before Adem shouted the name, 'Arawn!'

Twelve Fire Lions burst from Adem's form, leaping over the defensive circles, spreading outwards in all directions, pushing vampires on to their backs; tearing out throats or crushing skulls in their jaws. The beasts were unrelenting in their attacks, as bolts of blue lightning and warps of crimson fire launched from their forms to tear holes through vampires that crossed their paths. Their roars filling the night sky in glorious ferocity!

Arawn's cloak of darkness morphed into view, rising like a shadow spectre from the form of two Fire Lions; wielding a giant sword of red magma to slice vampires into halves. The Battle Angel flowed through the enemy lines, hacking skulls from shoulders in crimson sprays; releasing blasts of red lightning from his sword that vaporized flesh and bone.

Ki'mera orbs flowed towards Adem and his sword, enhancing his Battle Angel's attacks as twelve Fire Lions became twenty, then thirty. The beasts moved as burning shadows, shredding through vampire armour and flesh, biting off skulls and limbs in bloodthirsty carnage. Their battle roars drowning out the distant demons as the circle of defenders found new courage and fought back with an increased fervour.

Arawn released waves of that intimidating force of the Underworld, though the emotions permeating were bolstering to his courage. A feeling of Brotherhood, and the Companionship of a Protector was evident within that dark and brooding Elemental Magic that was also like a deep male song of chaos and contempt. A rolling chant of feelings sensed that inspired hope and ambition, to crush these enemies like worms under a rock!

Adem felt Arawn link with Tanriel, and as they did, he felt his awareness of Jean also increased through the kigare. At the same moment, he reached for Angel-Magic like it was an endless cup he wished to drain completely.

Teron flooded his veins, eruptions of fire, rivers of ice, putrid fungus coursing through the ecstasy. He was entranced by the beauty and magnificence of teron, but the Jinn-Magic brought him close to vomiting in revulsion. His eyes felt as if they were burning into ashes, his bones as if they were crumbling into dust. Yet the light of teron was a burning beacon in his soul, enough to carry him to heaven and beyond in the glory of its purity. Yet it was not pure at all, and that slick of rancid filth was a noxious fusion with enough strength to knock him off his feet!

Lightning began to fall all around them—a blazing storm that turned night into day as hundreds of bolts flickered in unison—striking vampires in the sky and on the ground, pummelling them into the earth in burning blue bolts. That was mostly his doing, though he had sensed Carl and Wil seizing even greater stores of Angel-Magic also, and they were wielding some of that lightning as Carl shouted, 'Math Mathonwy!'

Wil roared, 'Eledisren!'

Vampires still surrounded the two hundred who formed a defence around Adem and his friends, over three hundred of them, mostly men with sharp fangs; their eyes were large dark orbs. Alit'aren and Ael Tarael threw balls of fire or bolts of lightning from their hands, while Aldebrands fought the vampires with their blades and arrows. The soldiers were fighting hard also, though vampires were stronger and easily overpowered their opponents in most cases. One disadvantage the vampires had was their desire to feed every time they took down a soldier or Aldebrand. This gave some opportunity to hack their skulls off or blast them with fire while they were face down and gorging on human blood. Screams of men were heard all around them. Adem wondered how many men they would lose in this single attack.

Math's crimson cloak appeared, morphing amongst the vampire swarms. A red phantom of menace that caused bodies to implode on contact, as the Hellfire Spear swept through their ranks with blazing vehemence. The golden armoured Battle Angel taking form to rip flesh from bones in a bloodthirsty display. The air permeating with the force of a Brother of the Underworld.

Dis Pater appeared alongside Math, his giant golden axe decapitating vampires at will, cutting torsos in half and splitting skulls in crimson sprays as the shadow figure rose and took shape like a behemoth of avalanching destruction. Waves of Flame Crows launching from his form to blast through vampire hearts and chests like dark arrows!

Math's Shadow Hounds joined the carnage, as the three forms of Spirit Warden began to meld in that now familiar mess of magic that morphed into shapes like burning dragons of white flame, that blasted vampire bodies into incinerated piles. Their deafening roar filled the air; joined by the aftermath of flames unleashed by Tanriel's Spears.

The four Battle Angels linked—burning love and shadows of chaos united in epic forces that washed over the Saviours and their adversaries. Inspiring determination amongst his comrades and perhaps trepidation in those demonic hearts—as Adem sensed his three friends more strongly via the kigare. They were all frightened, terrified was more like it, but they held on to what strengths they had gained through their training and their rebirths.

Each of them had been forged into a new breed of warrior. In some ways they were akin to any of the Alit'aren and Ael Tarael of this Age, or of any, though the tests and trials of the Chameleon Arch were designed especially for branding the souls of the Sons and Daughter with a fighting spirit that could stand against anything Jinn-Fendinn hurled at them!

A swirling vortex of grey clouds appeared above Adem and his protectors, spreading downwards as a great grey finger as the vortex became larger. The winds howled, and lightning flared in many colours in the skies above, as the four Battle Angels were swept up into the clouds that surged with cataclysmic might that was almost terrifying to behold.

Bolts of lightning fell to blast vampires all around the protective circle. Aqua, crimson, emerald and golden swords of flame lanced from above with ominous force and raging vehemence; vampires were caught in pillars of light that vanquished their flesh in that momentary blaze as an overwhelming clash of thunder tore the air.

Arawn, Math Mathonwy, and Dis Pater flew back down out of the clouds like giant birds of prey, wings of shadow, crimson and golden flames at their backs. Weapons of light released blasts of lightning and fire; obliterating the scores of vampires that stood in their path. The three Brothers split off in three different directions when they reached the ground. Hacking through torsos. Decapitating. Annihilating their enemies with devastating might as the vampire swarms began to back away or take to the skies in terrified awe.

Tanriel still hovered at the peak of the clouds. Dozens of Flame Spears flew from her hands to punch through vampire flesh, setting them to flames in brilliant crimson flares as scorched bones collapsed in burning piles or blasted into ash. As the ki'mera orbs continued to flow to the Resting Points, the minions of the Battle Angels increased in strength and number. A hundred Fire Lions and over sixty Shadow Hounds charged through the camp, knocking down and devouring vampires in massive gulping bites.

Flame Crows punched through chests in blasts of shadows and fire or swarmed in the air to crash land with deafening thuds that blasted flesh and bone to flying pieces. The Crows, Lions and Hounds melded whenever they closed ranks, becoming massive serpentine dragons of flame that gorged on vampire flesh, as their long sinuous forms released blasts of lightning and fire to obliterate any enemies within range. Tanriel's Spears struck to earth to unleash walls of pure crimson flame that turned flesh and bone to vapour and dust!

Orion shouted to Adem, 'We must move the Battle Angels to the eastern defences! We are outnumbered and in need of their strengths!' Adem gave this command to Arawn through the kigare. The Battle Angel responded by extending his giant wings of shadow flames, then flying back towards Adem, to swoop down and pick him up by the shoulders, launching him into the sky and flying towards the eastern defences!

Adem saw the demon army in those moments that he flew through the night sky; there must have been at least eighty thousand that he could make out in that sea of darkness. It was the red eyes of the Nymloc and the coloured eyes of flame of the Jacoulra that made it possible to estimate numbers, as well as the size of the dark bulk that formed their masses—thousands upon thousands of kindled coals glaring within a sea of flesh that swarmed together like some flowing river of tar!

With Angel-Magic enhancing his vision, he made out the black-robed forms of Souljhin mounted on their Shadow Steeds, pushing the demon army forwards in an effort to overpower the defensive lines. These demon generals were indeed the most fearsome of all, as the demon army suddenly unleashed the full force of their evil energies to pour forth in waves, battering the senses of the entire Nordic army. It was a devastating manoeuvre, penetrating the very fibres of flesh and fire of spirit of every man and woman on the battlefield. Yet in the way it brought back the terrors of Bright, Adem believed he, Carl and Wil felt it more than any other.

Arawn placed him down in the centre of a wall of Alit'aren, Ael Tarael, and Aldebrands, who were behind thousands of Aldebrands and Agnars defending the front lines. The battle was a scene of absolute chaos and disorder, though Adem soon saw how well the defenders were managing despite a need for reinforcements. Alit'aren and Ael Tarael battered the front lines of demons with blasts of Elemental Magic. Lightning flying from the fists of men, and balls of flame from the palms of the women. Aldebrands fired wave after wave of blazing arrows of light that launched over the front lines of defenders, to fall as showers of flame that blasted demon flesh apart on impact. Skulls and limbs were torn free in blood and fire as lightning surged within the deeper ranks that spread like hungry serpents from the initial blasts.

Many Alit'aren and Ael Tarael were on the front lines attacking in similar styles, though their lightning and spheres of flame were thrown directly forwards in straight lines, with a punching action gestured with each energetic throw. The impact blasting demon bodies to shreds as spheres of energy expanded from every source, becoming snakes and leopards of burning light that pushed deeper within the enemy ranks, gorging and shredding through flesh and bone in a cosmic display of unrelenting annihilation.

Adem was on the ground only moments before he looked back into the sky to see Carl, Wil, and Jean being carried towards him by their Battle Angels. He sensed Jean's nervousness over flying though despite that her nerves were steel now.

The Alit'aren and Ael Tarael were also forming walls of Shield-Spells wherever they could manage to, buffering the defenders with impenetrable barriers that the Aldebrands, Agnars and other warriors could easily cut through from their own side. Hacking down thousands of savage demons that pressed against the Shield-Magic, biting and clawing to no effect before they were savagely cut to bleeding chunks. When the front lines fell, the hordes behind moved forwards in a wave; pushing at the front defences pikes, spears, swords, and axes.

These mostly immortal bred on the front lines moved with impossible speeds in their sword and blade forms also, a blurring to mortal eyes as enchanted weapons flared in arcs and slashes of vehement might. The enemy were being ground into minced meat against these walls of death!

Men were still dying out there; he heard their screams as flesh was ripped from their bones. Wherever the Shield-Magic failed the defenders were soon overwhelmed by the crushing force of such numbers stacked against them, a never-ending charge of teeth, claws and pure muscle, and Nymloc were particularly savage and bloodthirsty when enraged.

Jacoulra could create Jinn-Fire-Spells also, balls of crimson magma flew towards the front defences to burn holes in the Shield-Magic, allowing a flood of demons to push through before the lines were more greatly defended. Wielders fought back desperately with Angel-Magic to burn the creatures to cinders and ash, and occasionally bolts of red lightning fell from the sky that were cast by the larger demons. These were quite devastating on impact, as massive crimson blasts obliterated dozens of warriors, turning them to burning corpses or even screaming scorched skeletons! Wielders were also attempting to at least keep the front-line defenders protected from above with other Shield-Spells, but the Jacoulra were casting waves of magma to try to burn through those barriers wherever possible.

Jacoulra wielders formed small packs in some areas of their ranks, fusing the might of their dark enchantments in wedges. Each wielder holding a sceptre of dark iron that glowed like hot coals with odd shaped scythes burning at their tips, the points from which their dark Jinn-Magic was hurled. These wedges of demon wielders spoke in rude chants. A guttural Demonic Tongue that was forged of the Old Ways Magic, a bridge between the past and present of ancient evil that sent shivers down Adem's spine as he gazed upon those elemental casters. Chanting their war cries as raw emanations of evil energies coalesced and permeated from each wedge in a way that was as distressing as it was intimidating and abnormal.

The male Battle Angels swooped down to land in front of the warriors that formed the first line of defence, as Tanriel created a gap by unleashing a blast of red flames that spread for half a mile in a straight line; burning thousands of demons to ash in a matter of seconds. Jean drinking in a torrent of brilliant burning ki'mera moments after that was almost blinding. Adem watched as literally tens of thousands of colourful orbs flowed towards Jean and her bow that she clutched in her left hand. His sense of her via the kigare was that her strength had just increased tenfold!

For a time, she was encased in the spellbinding glow of colours that surrounded her like a vacuum. He sensed that she was also becoming overwhelmed from the surge in Angel-Magic. Tanriel began throwing out hundreds of crimson spears that fell to the earth to release walls of flame that erupted sideways through the demon ranks, reducing dark flesh to charred lumps of congealed mass on the far edges, but within the main source of flame the demons simply ceased to exist!

But the Battle Angels were still linked, so the ki'mera was shared even though it was delivered to Tanriel's Resting Point. Two hundred Shadow Hounds and three hundred Fire Lions appeared in the gap between the demon army and the front lines of defence. A thousand Crows swooped down from the sky; landing another crushing blow to the demons as the Shadow Hounds and Fire Lions rushed forward, hacking through demon flesh with razor-sharp claws; biting skulls or tearing off limbs.

As the Spirit Wardens began to meld once more, the darkness became alive with dozens of blazing white dragons, their jaws biting through even Jacoulra as if they were ripened dark melons fit for bursting. Multiple claws of flame shredding through armour and flesh as blasts of energy erupted from their sinuous torsos and tails, bolts of lightning and rings of flames to vaporize demons with magnificent ferocity!

Ki'mera flowed to the Sons and Daughter like a floating river of light, filling them with Angel-Magic, enhancing their Battle Angels' abilities until their attacks and minions doubled in number! Waves of Hounds, Lions and Crows flowed through the enemy ranks, splitting demons in half or ripping off skulls and limbs with bloodthirsty intensity. A force that could not be quelled even against such a vast horde of evil. The enemy became panicked and disorganized, even breaking ranks as uncertainty took hold of beings that were normally bred to simply kill and eat. The emotion of fear was almost unknown to such creatures, yet Adem saw that they were definitely intimidated.

Jean drew her sword of blue light and with admirable rage she shouted, 'Druantia!'

Twelve Green Men began sprouting from the earth in the gap between the first lines of defence and the demons that were being pushed back by Fire Lions and Shadow Hounds. They were all male Green Men this time, fat bellied and standing up to fourteen feet tall, a monstrosity of vines, wood, and leaves forming human figures with black seed-shaped eyes.

They began stomping through the demon ranks, striking with their fists like giant clubs, crushing demons in their wake as lightning and fire blasted from each point of impact; incinerating flesh and bone as the energies took forms of tiny winged pixies and axe wielding dwarf like beings, blasting and hacking through enemy ranks until their magic was dispersed.

As the ki'mera orbs flowed to Jean's sword, the Green Men increased in number, fifteen, and then twenty of the giants. They roared like massive bears as they stomped and clubbed at demon flesh as if they felt a deep hatred for the creatures. Pixies and Dwarves doubled in number as the Green Men actually now struck at the hordes with large wooden clubs that blazed with emerald light. The fires spreading outwards in various forms of Wardens that unleashed bolts and rings of flame from their own forms as they tore holes through chests or cut demons down at the knees to drive burning axes into their skulls!

The defenders were fortunate that their generals and kings had chosen this camp location for its various naturally formed points of defence, as although the front lines were mostly a level field between the lines of defenders and the enemy ranks, the demons were being forced to move through a sort of funnel, formed in the landscape by a valley type formation, rising to either side of the path of grasslands that flowed from the nearby forest, where the creatures were emerging in dark waves.

Other borders of the camp would be more easily defended, as the land rose higher around the circular edges of the camp on the southern and western sides, and a series of cliffs bordered the northern edges, that rose to overlook rolling hillsides, becoming much larger mountains further off in the distance. It was for these very reasons that the camp was chosen to hold such a large force of defenders in possible safety, so long as the eastern gap could be buffered with shields long enough to cut down this demon force.

Another advantage of this landscape was the rather predictable attacking formation of these kinds of demon, as Nymloc and Jacoulra most often simply pressed their ranks forwards in endless waves to grind their victims into pieces, particularly when facing warriors without sufficient Shield-Magic to defend their front lines. In this case and with many other ancient battles, the demon attack style provided some assurances that wielding Shield-Spells to form walls of defence, would provide a point of focus for the enemy ranks. Distracting them from more efficient manoeuvres, such as attempting to surround the camp with their greater numbers; attacking from every point of defence at the same time.

Adem knew Rahkwel would have made such an attempt much sooner, as the goblins were more advantageous in battle formation and strategies than these perhaps less intelligent demons. But he also knew that the chaos being caused by the thousands of vampires still attacking the heart of the campsite from above, would have made it much more difficult to defend every border if the demons decided to change tactics. He knew he had to destroy this massive force before the Souljhin decided it was time to restructure their attack formations.

A Boli-Kuldr horde would also have been disastrous if they had been summoned to this battle, as the larger swift moving beasts were also tactically smarter than these more ancient demon breeds. Eight to twelve feet tall figures of pure muscle attacking in a ring while pushing with spears, pikes and halberds would have put much greater pressure on their shields. As well as making it very difficult for the warriors to cut them down, with such long gaps formed by the wooden hafts of each weapon. He did not care to wonder why the enemy had not thought of this, though he said a silent prayer in hope that such demon reinforcements did not show their faces.

The swarms of Spirit Wardens continued to plough through the enemy lines. White dragons devouring flesh and bones in bursts of dark blood; vaporizing enemies with blasts of flame, while thick muscled Hounds and shadow flamed Lions leapt from all sides of the twisting dragons, biting, clawing, ripping off skulls with a single swipe or chewing through demon chests with ravenous intensity!

The presence of the Crows even brought a new stage of ability for the Wardens, as the Crows grouped together to form Lions and Hounds with wings of burning shadows that lifted off the ground, some pouncing to land with shockwaves of force and energies that blasted demons into dust. Larger groups of Wardens took form as flying silver dragons that breathed walls of flame down upon the demon scourge.

During this massive Battle Angel Link, the Wardens also released their own waves of Pixies that flew off in every direction towards the demon hordes, punching through chests or blasting skulls to cinders and ash with lightning speed and unstoppable force. The flames released by the Lions at times became burning Leopards that joined the slaughter on the fields. Energies charging around Shadow Hounds spread off into waves of Lightning Wolves that glowed like starlight as they tore through flesh and bone. Shredding demons into bleeding chunks or biting into the jugular in dark sprays as they forced Nymloc and Jacoulra to the ground with heavy paws.

Flame Spears continued to clear a path for the three male Battle Angels further out within the demon masses, as Arawn spun in circles with his massive blade to cleave through three or four Jacoulra at a time. Blade of flame slicing thick congealed halves of dark flesh that slid and collapsed in burning piles as he drove the blade through the chest of another, hacked off a skull or released a wave of crimson energies to vaporize a wedge of Jacoulra wielders.

Math and Dis Pater fought on Arawn's flanks. Hellfire Spear and axe of golden light releasing blasts and waves of Elemental Magic to burn demons into scorched piles of smoking flesh. Hacking off limbs or crushing the smaller Nymloc demons underfoot before driving spear or axe blade through their chests and skulls. The three Brothers were relentless in their onslaught tactics, showing no signs of intimidation or fear as they drove through enemy lines amidst waves of lightning and fire; reducing demon flesh to ash as ki'mera fed their souls with greater endurance and might.

For a time, it looked as if it would be a fairly simple victory. The ki'mera orbs fed the Resting Points, and the Battle Angels increased the scale and level of their attacks. This was the main source of their attacking style, that while the four Angels continued to harvest demon souls, they also fed the Spirit Wardens that multiplied in number. Harvesting greater stores of ki'mera to the effect of greater devastation of the enemy forces. The resulting scene was a bloodbath of burning chaos upon the battlefield, glorious to witness as it filled the Saviour army with courage and determination. Some time passed while the warriors gazed in awe upon the Battle Angels slaughtering demons, yet Adem realised that victory was still a small hope when Arawn spoke to him via the kigare to say that he was tired.

What does that mean? Adem asked.

It means I must rest, Arawn replied. We all must. It is up to you now, Son of Odin.

Then the three male Battle Angels and Tanriel unleashed a final wave of attacks. Fire burst from crimson spears. Fire Lions and Shadow Hounds swept through the demon ranks like nightmares come to life. Crows covered the skies, swooping down to tear demon flesh or blast it into shreds on impact. Wardens melding to become waves of Flame Dragons burning neon white as energies pulsed, flared and blasted from their massive winding forms that trailed through the dark demon masses to obliterate flesh and bone in cosmic flashes and flares of pure incineration! When Tanriel's Spears touched ground before and around the Flame Dragons, the burning white beasts unleashed waves of fire from their own massive jaws that vaporized demons or turned them to congealed chunks of burning flesh, as the fields were filled with their deafening roars!

Math, Dis Pater and Arawn released a unified wave of Elemental Magic, that morphed around each of the three males to take the form of dozens of beings of golden-orange or crimson-shadow flames. All were of equal height of the Battle Angel they surrounded and looked most like, as the Spirit Wardens began to hack and slash with vehement rage, wielding golden axe or spear or sword of burning magma. The three Brothers focused these wedges of Wardens like spearheads to drive through the enemy bulk. Flames flowed from each weapon like the roar of dragons as the burning sentinels carved a path of destruction in waves of incineration, hacking through dark flesh flying in fried chunks!

Then suddenly, they ceased their attacks. The Battle Angels returned to their Resting Points, their weapons and minions vanishing with them. Only Druantia's Green Men remained, the Battle Angel herself was a beacon of blue-green light with wings of blue fire hovering twenty feet above Jean.

Though her attacks had less effect without the other four and she would tire soon too, it was up to him, now.

He didn't bother trying to summon Wings of Odin; he had tried enough times since emerging from the Arch and failed each time. He thought it must have been something he could only do in that strange reflection of worlds. If it were possible in the real world, he had not yet learnt how. The Immortal Kings and Queens had caught up to them by now, along with over two hundred Aldebrands wearing the masks and black garb of the ghoda'sidhe.

They formed a protective barrier around them with Ael Tarael and Alit'aren on the outer edges. They were still very close to the front lines however, and the demons were beginning to push back, hard, and with a vengeance. The screams of dying men filled the air once more as men wielding pikes tried to push back the advancing demons. Adem could see the waves of Jacoulra-Magic that was being hurled at the walls of Shield-Magic along the front lines of defence, and when blasts of that corrosive fusion melted the barriers, men screamed in terror and death. He had to think of something fast if he wanted to save more lives, but he was stricken with panic. He fumbled at Angel-Spells as he wondered what spell would have the greatest impact, second guessing himself before releasing each attack.

Soldiers and Aldebrands were there also, hacking with blades and axes at black bull and ram skulled beasts. Ael Tarael and Alit'aren who had been resting, during the time that the Battle Angels attacked, began casting balls of flame that took to the skies in the form of Pixie Wardens. Angel winged beings of light that punched through demon chests in bright flares or caused skulls to explode on impact. Lightning bolts fell from the sky, blazing blades of emerald, golden and crimson fire lanced down to blast into sheets of flame, spreading in disc shaped rings of fire that obliterated dozens of demons with every strike. Soon there were hundreds of those blades falling every second that he watched with some sense of hope, while other blue bolts fell in the shape of giant serpents that snapped ferociously as they crushed demons in jaws of flame!

Kelderath, Morthros, and Maldros were mounted with five thousand cavalry and a thousand Dremelden. They were milling behind Adem and his friends, anxious for a charge though faltering due to the crowds that surged in front of them. Kelderath was barking orders like a mad dog, ordering Wood Kin Archers into formation, reinforcing his own ranks with more riders armed with lances and pikes to surround the charge. Sending defenders to the front lines made up mostly of more Agnars and Aldebrands of immortal blood as these would be the fastest and more enduring blades on the battlefield.

Morthros and Maldros assisted his commands by ordering the captains and lieutenants that surrounded them, reinforcing his tactics with a greater supply of leaders, and these men saluted from the saddle before breaking off to separate points of defence; many of the commanders being sent closer to the front lines to lend some courage to those brave warriors and to inspire the will of defiance against this ominous threat of doom.

An addition to the front lines were greater numbers of Archers and Lukrorian Bow wielding Aldebrands, the Wood Kin on foot firing dead ahead while the Aldebrands were mounted behind them, so they could fire from a higher vantage. Torrents of burning arrows launched at the demons, firing straight through the back of the protective walls to blast demons to blood and ashes on impact. Line after line of enemies fell in glorious burning waves.

The Wood Kin also stood on a slightly raised plateau of land behind the main lines of Agnars and Aldebrands defending with swords and other blades, which gave them a slight height advantage also. This allowed them to fire directly above the heads or between the gaps of two men's shoulders, while the Aldebrands mounted behind them had an even greater height advantage. Their aim was still relatively straight despite this as some Jacoulra stood up to nine feet tall or more, and Nymloc at least seven feet with the taller breeds, so the Wood Kin aimed for Nymloc skulls and the Aldebrands fired at Jacoulra chests and skulls in waves of burning obliteration.

During this time Adem stood with Jean to his right and Carl and Wil to his left, as the four of them decided they should at least link, after communicating via their Battle Angels. The skies came alive with lines of blazing blue bolts falling like spears and swords to almost double the number that had up till now been falling upon the fields.

They had not drawn too much Angel-Magic, as they knew the risks, but the amount of ki'mera gathered by each of the Battle Angels allowed them to release torrents of teron and terael with ease, once they had agreed upon the first Angel-Spells. The link was passed mainly to Jean to control, and she looked more than a little pale with the revolting corruption upon teron sensed within her soul. Where those Spear and Blade tips touched ground, they not only blasted demons to shreds with the initial impact, but waves of magma erupted from the earth to flow outwards, burning demons to smoking husks.

Adem noted nods of approval from Orion and Tobin at this point, as well as from their wives. Those four formed their own link, and Adem saw Orion's Golden Tigers and Tobin's Emerald Lions launch upon the fields. Attacking from the shield line to crash into the demon masses, spreading bolts of lightning and blasts of energy as the Wardens chomped down on limbs and skulls, pushing demons to the ground to rip through the jugular as dark blood flowed. Lydia and Elmira released waves of Pixies from their open palms that took to the skies in floating blue rivers of light, launching down upon the battlefield to blast demons apart on impact. Burning holes through chests; skulls exploding in bursts of blood and flames.

They fought against the hordes in this link for some time, until Jean signalled to the men via their Battle Angels that she also required a while to rest and recover, and so the link was released, at which point Carl tapped Adem on the shoulder to shout, 'I have a plan, and I don't think we will succeed unless I try. You'll have to trust me!'

And with that, Carl was suddenly pushing his way back through the crowds of warriors, making his way towards the lines of mounted cavalry; his crimson spear glowing in the darkness like a sceptre of ill fate.

What is he doing? Adem wondered.

He looked over his shoulder again to see Carl shouting orders as he almost pulled a man out of the saddle; taking his horse, to lead Kelderath and the others off to the south. Adem had noted Kelderath bowing to Carl from the saddle like a brow beaten wolf exuding shame and embarrassment for not seeing the same wisdom as one of the Chosen. Whatever Carl had planned, he was not sharing it via the kigare.

The five thousand horsemen followed Carl and the noblemen to vanish into the night. They broke off to the right and fanned out in a series of lines headed towards the hills that would give them a view of the demon flanks from that side of the battlefield.

Where are they going? Adem wondered again, hoping that Carl was not so affected by Jinn-Magic that he was experiencing delusions of grandeur.

He was more than relieved to see Carl taking initiative in this fight; it was alternatively perhaps a sign the man was coming to his senses. But Carl knew nothing of cavalry and charges, though that thought stirred memories of lessons Adem had learnt during his ordeal within the Arch. He began to hope and trust that this new spurt of courage and initiative by his friend was a sign that Carl had also developed serious improvements in his understanding of war and battle tactics.

It was then that Adem noticed Wil had vanished too! He looked behind him to see the man running towards the line of Dremelden warriors, his golden axe swinging in his belt loop as he too began to bark orders at the Wood Kin Immortals, their leaders Farrigan and Gwyndel giving bows of subservience as he too apparently devised schemes they had not considered up until this point.

'Now what is he doing?' Adem asked himself. He began to wonder how much his friends had changed since being reborn within the Arch, and already he was seeing evidence of just how extreme and varied those changes may be in each of them.

'Carl says he has a plan, Adem!' Jean shouted with a fierce temper. 'Put some trust in your friends and see what comes of this. For now, you must focus your own strength against this scourge. Do some damage with what you can muster!'

So, it's up to me then, Adem thought as he pressed his palms together in prayer position, Angel-Magic bleeding into and throughout his skin and soul as lightning and flames ripped at the very fabric of his being. Charged and flowed within his core to vast extremities of heat and light, with electric coolness added to the cataclysm of energies that threatened to tear him to shreds in its magnificence. He laughed ecstatically within the confines of his mind, while almost on the verge of tears, in revulsion from that horrid foulness that corroded his flesh and bones. A vileness beyond compare that brought images of festering tar, bubbling as it nearly coalesced with teron; a river of pure and incandescent flames within his veins.

A hundred thick lightning bolts fell as giant swords of blue flame. That was all him this time. Another hundred, and then fifty more; each striking a different place each time. Demons howled as they were torn apart in flashes of blue.

He focused most of his attacks just behind the front lines of demons. He didn't want to accidentally strike any of his own soldiers, but he wanted to make a mess of the front lines that were at times tearing his soldiers to shreds. This method gave the soldiers and Aldebrands more room to swing an axe or blade. The problem was this method could take all night. He was not sure he could keep this up for more than an hour. The Arch had improved his strength and endurance dramatically, but even these somewhat simply crafted Angel-Spells were draining a vast portion of his vitality.

Ki'mera orbs flowed towards him, filling him with the glory of Angel-Magic, filling him with the vileness of corruption. Behind the walls of lightning he formed new Angel-Magic, making it hail balls of blue flame, each the size of a fist. They would mostly wound demons rather than kill them, but he divided the flows to make hundreds of the balls of light fall every few seconds, covering nearly a mile of black bodies.

He called that Lightning-Hail-Magic. The balls of flame melted through demon skulls like hot knives through butter, tore limbs from the muscular beasts; hammering them into the earth. The Nymloc and Jacoulra preferred to move in huge wedges, formations of a sort where their front lines pushed, hacked, and slashed with their claws and fangs, while those behind waited to take over, when the front lines were defeated. Battles of this kind were like one giant meat grinder regardless of whether you were on the winning or losing end. The Shield-Magic wielded by the Alit'aren and Ael Tarael were the only thing stopping this vast horde from overwhelming the front-line defenders and grinding them into blood and bones.

Adem continued to wield those same two Angel-Magics for an extended period of time, until he was in desperate need of a rest. By that time, a soldier had arrived leading his black stallion, along with others for the Ael Tarael and Alit'aren to mount. This made it easier for Adem to see the battlefield, particularly the enemy and where to strike. However, they stood out to the Jacoulra wielders harnessing their Jinn-Magic.

Therefore, more Ael Tarael and Alit'aren were required to produce Shield-Spells to surround those mounted on horseback. Two dozen male and female wielders surrounded Adem to provide a substantial barrier. He was close to exhaustion, though Arawn was gaining strength from the ki'mera that continued to flow into Adem's chest and his sheathed sword, mostly fanning around the hilt. This revived Adem's strength, providing new levels of endurance and enhancing his ability to wield. One moment he was so drained he thought he might collapse, then the flow of ki'mera produced a revitalising surge of energies flowing throughout his heart and soul. His mind was suddenly alive with Angel-Magic as he sensed that his endurance had recovered more than adequately, compared to a solid two days sleep, and full stomach of the types of energizing and healing sustenance only this world could provide.

He roared in defiance as he altered the Angel-Magic to what he decided then and there would be called Winged-Samurai. Behind the walls of lightning, forty armoured warriors of blue fire appeared standing eight feet tall, each wielding an Angel sized blade of light, while others carried bows that burned bright blue.

With a slight altering of the Angel-Magic—as brilliant light and energy churned and coalesced around his fists like neon sprites—these giant samurai began to hack and slash through demon flesh with blades that spun like aircraft propellers. Churning through demon flesh to turn Nymloc and Jacoulra into charred congealed lumps. The demons howled in terror as they began to attempt retreat from those spinning discs of light, as Adem made a new alteration to the Angel-Magic, as the warriors suddenly sprouted wings of flame, and began to leap forwards through the demon ranks, some landing with blades pointed downwards to blast the enemy with shockwaves of Angel-Fire.

Within those same ranks, the bow wielding samurai fired blazing arrows from the ground and also from the air, some hovering over the demon hordes to blast their ranks into blood and incineration.

The result was a swift massacre of a large portion of the demon masses, bodies imploded, crumpled and fell apart without spray of blood as the laser blades burned through flesh while sealing the wounds at the same time, clumps of congealed flesh falling like small boulders while other demons melted into pools from the heat, a surging dark butter oozing onto the earth as the sounds of real fear began to erupt within the enemy ranks.

If he could have maintained these Angel-Magics, there might be some hope of victory; however, those Winged-Samurai drained his strength considerably. He thought he could have maintained them for longer if he were linked with Carl and Wil, or perhaps Orion and Tobin, but the two Immortal Kings were busily distracted making a mess of what remained of those front lines. Attacking in their own link with their wives to create scores of Tigers and Lions, as well as waves of Pixies that tore through flesh or blasted skulls to blood and ashes.

For the short time that he was able to maintain the Angel-Samurai, he must have reduced the number of demons to less than fifty thousand. His army had suffered great losses already, though he estimated it was only two or three thousand wounded or dead on the front lines. This meant the two armies were now almost equal in size, they were no longer outnumbered almost two to one.

However, the question remained as to how many servants and soldiers had been killed or bitten by vampires deeper within the campsite. Every time he looked back towards the centre of the camp, he still saw hundreds of human figures flying through the sky or swooping down to take a victim. That problem was why the front lines were lacking in defence; there were still thousands of wielders and soldiers trying to save the servants from all being turned into vampires.

He released the Angel-Magic that held the Winged-Samurai together, the warriors of light vanished, and thousands of men and women cried out in despair to see such powerful weapons disappear. They would know it meant Adem was becoming weak. Yet there was still a great battle to be fought. The flow of ki'mera would regenerate this vitality soon enough, but he was drained to the point where he still required a break. During the time Adem had wielded the Samurai, most other wielders had taken a break to rest, including Jean. She began to wield again the moment the sentinels of blue flame ended their onslaught.

Her method was different, though equal in terms of annihilation. Walls of golden-orange Fire-Magic erupted ten feet high. She created these just behind the walls of lightning that Adem was still able to maintain. Stones and earth erupted in fountains of flame that ripped limbs from demon torsos and sent dark skulls flying in a spray of black blood.

The Ael Tarael assisted her by creating more Fire-Magic alongside and behind hers. Hundreds of Fire Leopards charged out of those walls of flame to blast demon flesh to cinders, though their effect was minimal against such a force. The hundreds of Alit'aren began wielding Lightning-Pythons once more, focusing their attacks deep in the bulk of the demon ranks.

They seemed determined to rip out the core of the army before it advanced upon them. The result was a firework's display of light and colour, including the constant flow of flaming arrows sent flying from Lukrorian Bows. Over a thousand Aldebrands had formed lines behind Adem and his protectors, their arrows hacked down the front ranks creating explosions and tearing demon flesh from bones.

This gave the soldiers and Aldebrands on the outer defences a chance to rest for the most part, despite dozens of ram or bull skulled monsters charging forwards through the blasts. They were usually hacked down with swords or axes, though occasionally a Jacoulra would break through the front lines and charge towards Adem while swinging its scythe-shaped red blade.

Jacoulra could stand up to nine feet tall and most were built like a bull, dark ram skulled beasts with bull horns and sleek eyes that blazed crimson, or aqua, emerald, or gold. Over fifteen of the massive creatures made it close to Adem and Jean, wounding or killing dozens of soldiers and Aldebrands in their wake. Ael Tarael and Alit'aren always encased the demons in walls of Fire-Magic before they could reach Adem or Jean.

Adem began to wonder about his friends. Wil and the Dremelden riders had vanished from the rear lines over a quarter hour ago. There was still no sign of Carl and the five thousand mounted warriors. Had they deserted him? No! He would not believe that possible. So, what were they planning? How long would they wait? He changed his own lightning Angel-Magic to Fire Serpents, the blue bolts moved outwards like a web of fire through the chests and torsos of hundreds of demons, burning them to ash. Sweat beaded on his brow, his breathing was desperate. He could not hold out much longer. Where were they?

Teron consumed him, a mountain of ice crumbling into a sea of flames. He wanted to laugh from the ecstasy and bliss that filled him, to scream from the raging torrent that was Angel-Magic, but Jinn-Magic made him want to weep in despair. Teron made him feel as if his bones were burning to ashes, freezing to crystal stone. Through the flood of agony and bliss he wondered, am I losing my mind? Is any of this even real?

He heard Arawn's voice reply in his mind; It is real, Son of Odin. Don't lose hope. You must succeed!

***

Carl was riding the grey colt he had borrowed from one of Kelderath's soldiers. Kelderath, Maldros, and Morthros were mounted on either side of his horse with the five thousand mounted warriors behind them. They were all mortal soldiers and mortal horses though they would do some damage to the demon ranks when they sounded the charge.

The thousand riders at the head of the charge held lances with two-foot steel points. Behind them the remainder of the charge would wield swords, spears, and axes to hack down demons that avoided being trampled by their steeds.

Carl was anxious to ride out of the shadows and sound the charge, though he waited for the signal from Wil. They could not communicate with images to form words as they had in the Chameleon Arch. In the waking world, the kigare only provided an insight to the emotions of those you were connected to. Thoughts could be presumed from reading these emotions though words were only transferred via their Battle Angels, which would have otherwise made it quite difficult to know when his friend was ready.

His sense of Wil was that he was hunting, searching the wilds for something, though Carl had no idea what it was. He seemed calm, almost at peace, though he was anxious to fight also. Adem's emotions were a blurring of pain and bliss, Jinn-Magic was taking control of him.

He tried to send reassurance to him through the kigare, a mood of determination and courage, like a lion waiting to pounce. A similar emotion was returned by Adem, though he was still fighting desperately, nearly completely drained of strength. Though Carl was certain Adem understood that they had not abandoned him.

Carl and Wil would not let Adem know the secret plan they were devising, though their Battle Angels had communicated to one another enough for each to know they had vital tools within their minds and souls to give them a greater chance of victory. The reason they could not tell one another more than this, for Carl's part at least, was the fact that discussing what had been learnt in the Chameleon Arch was forbidden, unless during shared experiences, and though Carl suspected Wil had also learnt some special gift through that experience, he understood that his friend could not explain any further details.

'How much longer must we sit here while our allies are being slaughtered?' Kelderath asked. 'I would rather die than sit by like a coward in the dark!' Carl resisted the urge to groan over that, as he rode up and down the flanks of the riders to inspect each animal with the expert eye of a man who was a hundred men, no!—a thousand men!—and hundreds of them veterans of war leading cavalry charges. In some of those lives, those men had defeated armies ten times this size with half as many riders. They had some help, of course, but this kind of memory gave Carl an edge in this predicament that he feared his fellow generals might be lacking.

Kelderath was clever when it came to battle but foolish when it came to bravery. Carl didn't want to die. He wanted to be home with his wife and child. Instead, he was forced to fight a battle he did not want to be a part of, in a strange land with strange people. Images flashed through his mind of ancient Kismerian battles, memories from a dozen different lifetimes, some where he was a Lord of War, others a Master Magician.

They were residues of what he had witnessed in the Arch. Memories of men who had fought and died for Kismeria. He knew them all, they were a part of him now, in a way they were him. He didn't want to fight, but he had no choice. Kismeria was in his blood now, not a strange land. It was his home, and they were his people, in some ways more so now than the people of Earth.

What Carl and Wil were able to discuss was some form of battle plan, in that while Wil waited to gather his special attack force, Carl waited on the opposite flank of the demon hordes with his host of riders, and when the time was right, they would crush this enemy with waves of Angel-Magic and whatever else Wil had up his sleeve.

'On my signal we will charge head on into their flanks and ride till we reach the other side or fall from our saddles trying! Be ready, the time is near! Drive through them in a wide-wedge, twenty-riders deep but keep a tight formation, we'll pound them into dust while the outer riders hack them down with everything we've got!'

'Your plan sounds ... optimistic Odin Son,' Kelderath said with a sickly expression. 'Might I suggest a more suitable tactic?'

'I know what I'm doing, Kelderath, in this instance you will follow my orders to the letter. I know it's risky, but without this daring move we will not destroy them before our wielders tire completely. When the shields fail, our army will fall. We must strike hard now while we have the momentum.'

'As you command, Carl Wilder,' Kelderath said, after a sigh, 'although I must admit that this plan is so risky, I fear this will be the day I meet my maker.'

Horns sounded in the distance as Carl sensed Wil's alertness and determination rise up with a surge of ferociousness. He knew his friend was ready to fight! His sense of direction told him Wil was charging south towards the demon flanks. Carl and his cavalry would charge north, attacking from both sides in an attempt to obliterate the demon army or force them into a retreat.

He began to shout orders to Kelderath and his men.

'Sound the charge!' he shouted. 'Form the lancers! Ready axes! Ready your swords! Sound the charge! We'll make a mess of them even if we die trying!'

He booted his mount into a swift gallop as horns began to sound. The thunder of hooves filled his ears; horns continued as the black bulk of the demon army came into view. They had hidden in a small cleft in the landscape a half mile from the battle which gave them the element of surprise.

Carl seized Angel-Magic. Teron flooded his veins, an iceberg melting in lava, Jinn-Magic coursing like a river of rotting flesh. When they were thirty paces from the outer wall of dark muscular demon bodies, Carl sent an arrow of Fire-Magic twelve paces wide to soften their impact. The arrow of flames tore through demon bodies, sending limbs flying in all directions as it began to spread like a wild conflagration. Surging through the demon masses to take the form of cross wielding warriors standing eight feet tall. Clubbing demons to crush skulls and split hides in bursts of burning crimson, the Warrior Priests soon numbering in the hundreds despite Carl wielding on his own. Flames roared from the swipes of the burning crosses in the form of raging red dragons!

He altered the Angel-Magic to make the line of Fire-Magic spread deeper and further outwards with mad vehemence. A scorching colossus turning blood and bone to congealed slag and vapour as giant spinning crosses of golden-orange flames stood upright to spray thousands more demons with rivers of fire; just as their horses ploughed through the remaining front ranks, man, and demon roaring in agony and bloodlust. The ring of blades cutting swathes through Nymloc armour and hacking into thick Jacoulra flesh like the Reaper Harvesting the Crops, blood flying in dark bursts as thousands of scrambling dark bodies were cut down or trampled under hooves!

Carl rode at the head of that column of riders that first plunged through the bulk of the demon army—as the land dipped slightly to enter the shallower end of the long funnel in the landscape, where the demon army were clustered in hordes of tens of thousands—his crimson spear tearing through demon flesh with bolts of thick tangled crimson flame. A massacre fit to make the Old Gods chant in pride as waves of ki'mera orbs filled his Resting Point, and he heard Math Mathonwy speaking to his mind.

I am ready, Son of Odin!

Carl shouted at the top of his lungs, 'Math Mathonwy!'

Twelve Shadow Hounds charged out ahead of his horse. Then Carl heard the cry of wolves to the north, thousands of wolves. His curiosity almost sent him off balance before he focused the Angel-Magic again to obliterate the demon masses before him with the destructive force known to few wielders throughout the Ages.

The Hounds split to become thirty, then fifty black skinned beasts as tall as their horses, chomping down on skulls in dark sprays or shredding through armour, flesh and bone with claws that reduced the flying flesh to charred smoking husks. The growls of the Hounds joined the howling cacophony of the wolves evidently attacking in the distance, and Carl had more than a hunch that those wolves had been commanded by Wil, evidently his friend had received extra special training in the Arch.

Hounds ploughed ahead through the demon ranks as Carl sent bursts of liquid flame surging alongside their path in the form of ravenous red dragons, as Carl's unique talent with magic unified the dragons with the Hounds to morph into burning white dragons. Skulls that flickered from that of a dragon's jaws and fangs, to that of a dark headed wolf with razor sharp teeth that gleamed like polished steel. Chewing holes through the enemy ranks while rivers of flame shot forth from the skulls of the Dragon-Wolves; the elongated sinuous forms of the Elemental Spirits tearing through demon flesh with dragon claws and giant black wolf paws. Flames engulfed the demon ranks spraying outwards in brilliant crimson sheets or blasts of pure white flame, eradicating demon scum in the purification of Angel-Magic.

Math's crimson cape morphed into view at the head of the Dragon-Wolf charge. His burning red spear cleaving skulls and splitting torsos with an insatiable bloodlust. An Underworld Angel displaying invincible feats of carnage and retaliation against the ominous threat of such vast hordes. With each swipe of the Hellfire Spear sheets of burning crimson burst forth in waves, flying horizontal through the enemy ranks to incinerate demon flesh ten ranks deep!

Soon they were charging so deep within the enemy lines Carl knew they would be trapped unless Wil succeeded to meet them halfway. He prayed those wolves would be their saviour as he heard their howls growing closer on the northern enemy flanks. The skies were a wild calamity of lightning, and hail of burning spheres of teron and terael, to the western side of the demon wedges. Some of that lightning was falling close to the riders though the wielders seemed at least now aware of their position, as they focused their attacks further back from the charge to give them a chance to push though.

When Carl gave his position to Adem via their Battle Angels, he was soon surrounded in walls of burning emerald, crimson and amber flames spouting fifteen feet high and racing outwards in waves, within a short time after their communication. This had been a part of Carl's hopes for success, as dozens of linked wielders created a funnel of fire for them to charge straight through. Demons sizzled like sausages before bursting into flames by the thousands as the host of riders began a fierce roar of courage and determination. Pounding of hooves almost drowning out the thunder that tore the air with every bolt of lightning that fell like a burning Spear or Blade.

He heard Wil speak to his mind via Dis Pater: We are on our way to you, my friend. Just keep going and don't look back!

In the distance, with Angel-Magic in his veins, Carl made out the dark furry shapes of thousands of very large wolves charging through the demon flanks. Biting at skulls and tearing down victims with the savage hatred of animals that were fighting beyond the simple instinct of vicious predators, to them, these demons were a nightmare that needed to be wiped off the face of the planet. They barked and howled with savage vehemence as they tore through demon flesh with almost the same speed and skill as Math's Hounds, though the wolf packs were much greater in number.

Carl dug in his heels and charged with increased speed and fervour as he altered the Angel-Magic of the crimson bolts. They spread outwards from the source in burning sheets that sliced through demon bodies like hot knives through butter, as effective as lasers and reducing the chance of losing momentum close to zero. Math and his Dragon-Wolves danced within that crescendo of flames as glowing spirits of devastating destruction, carving a clear path towards the oncoming masses of snarling ravenous wolves!

***

Adem was tiring to the point of exhaustion. His sense of Jean was that she too was at her limit. Druantia still hovered high in the sky. Her Green Men still ploughed through the dark masses, crushing demon bodies with their feet and fists. Druantia must have been stronger to have lasted so long without rest. His own attacks had diminished to the walls of lightning and Fire Serpents.

Jean and the Ael Tarael still wielded walls of flame, and the Alit'aren and Aldebrands still provided a show of fire attacks. What had changed was Carl and Wil had joined the battle! Adem was overjoyed to sense their rage rising through the kigare, then to see Carl's cavalry and Wil's Dremelden begin to plough through the demon ranks.

He heard the cry of wolves also, thousands of wolves, coming from the same area as Wil and the immortals. Then he saw Shadow Hounds attacking from the right and crows swooping in from the left, which told him their Battle Angels had joined the fight. Jean shouted, 'Tanriel!' Adem heard his Battle Angel through the kigare saying, I am ready, Son of Odin! Adem shouted, 'Arawn!'

Adem sensed all five Battle Angels Link. Storm clouds suddenly covered the sky in a swirling grey vortex. Lightning began to fall from the clouds, fifty bolts, a hundred, a thousand, aqua, emerald, golden, crimson fire. The thick bolts struck the skulls and hearts of demons to release blasts of Angel-Magic that sent dark bodies flying in pieces.

Tanriel appeared beside Druantia, throwing down hundreds of crimson spears that exploded outwards with walls of fire. Green Men rose from the earth within the demon bulk until there were thirty of the giants.

Over a hundred Shadow Hounds charged through the masses while Arawn's shadow form flew into the front lines of demon ranks to release over two hundred Fire Lions. A powerful roar erupted from the soldiers and Aldebrands protecting the front lines.

Then the Alit'aren and Ael Tarael began to unleash their most powerful attacks; many were linked to produce massive fireballs and walls of fire five paces thick. The Aldebrand archers behind Adem unleashed waves of arrows, and the front defenders began to move into an attack, charging forward to hack and slash at demon skulls while the walls of Shield-Spells advanced.

Ki'mera flowed to Adem and Jean like rivers of light, charging them up, giving them strength. Despite this, Adem felt ready to collapse right there in the saddle, though his determination kept him sitting straight as he continued to wield the lightning.

He wanted to do something more, to unleash some final attack to settle the score. The time he had been allowed to rest had given the ki'mera time to recharge. He decided that last trick was his best option.

Fifty Fire-Samurai rose up out of the ground, each ten-foot-tall, each a figure of emerald light in the form of an armoured warrior. These Jade Warriors wielded giant blades of green fire that they immediately began to swing left and right, hacking through demon flesh and severing dark skulls. They were fast too, moving their blades similar to spinning saws.

This would be his last effort. He was only able to perform those Angel-Spells as they drained his strength less than the Winged-Samurai. The amount of extra Air-Magic that was required to make these sentinels fly had depleted his strength in minutes. The Jade Warriors moved deep into the demon ranks, though he kept them at a distance from Carl's and Wil's forces. He could not see far enough to be sure he would not make a mess of them too if they got too close. Ki'mera fed the Battle Angels, increasing the strength and volume of their attacks with the wielders unleashing their full power.

Hounds, Crows and Lions morphed and merged to form the sinuous serpentine dragons of burning white flames, gorging on demon flesh with ravenous bloodlust. Ki'mera flowed in four directions like rivers of pulsing energies. Green Men released more blasts of emerald light that formed the Dwarf Sentinels, hacking and slashing with their burning axes; tearing through demons with bolts of blue fire that flared outwards like grasping claws.

Arawn, Math and Dis Pater gave a final charge of Angel-Magic, forming a wedge of identical figures of crimson, blue and golden fire, wielding blades, spears and axes as the Battle Angels fought at the head of each wedge; obliterating the bulk of the remaining enemy forces. Sheets of burning energies flew from the swipe of every blade, flames launching over fifty paces; slicing demons into burning chunks.

The earth erupted in flames, lightning flared in the skies as balls of fire, and flaming arrows hailed down upon the demon army until the battle field was over two miles of black smoking husks; minions of the Battle Angels ravaging any surviving demons that twitched or growled on the ground.

Adem turned to see Jean fall forwards in the saddle with exhaustion. Terese was suddenly by her side to pull her from the saddle. Adem wanted to collapse, but he did not want anyone to see him show signs of weakness. Great cheers began amongst the masses and from deeper in the camp that must have included servants and sei'vani.

Tanriel and Druantia returned to their Resting Points as Jean was helped to stand with her arm over Terese's shoulder. The male Battle Angels then returned to their Resting Points, and Arawn flew towards him to be consumed by the hilt of his blade in a flash of light.

As they did, the Shadow Hounds, Fire Lions, Green Men, Flame Spears, and Shadow Crows ceased to exist. Carl and Wil still led their patrols through the fields, lancers stabbing at demon husks and Aldebrands and Wood Kin occasionally unleashing a flurry of flaming arrows to make a small bonfire of demons.

Adem could make out the dark furred shapes of thousands of wolves surrounding Wil and the Dremelden. They snarled as they sniffed at demon corpses. Arawn explained through the kigare that the Dremelden had always been able to speak to animals, especially wolves.

Chapter 13

The Honour Code

There were thousands of servants and soldiers wounded deeper in the camp. Maybe a thousand or more were bitten by vampires and would turn in three moons. Arawn explained that they would not want food for those three days, or water, as the thirst for blood began to rise in their souls. Adem was very concerned about what their fate would be; they could not turn them loose to become a horde of scavenging vampires, draining the blood of innocent farmers and villagers.

It was a disease that had to be stopped like cutting off an infected limb. He sighed deeply when Arawn explained that they would all be decapitated and burnt. Healing-Magic could do nothing for the vampire curse. They were doomed. Adem didn't like it, but he understood this was their ways, and he could do more damage by interfering with their laws.

Carl and Wil rode their mounts to either side of his horse, a swarm of Aldebrands surrounding them on foot with blades or bows ready like stalking leopards. The wolves had vanished into the wilderness, their howls still sounding in the distance all around. He wanted to question Wil about that, but he kept silent. Carl's bravery and battle cunning seemed something new also, and he suspected his friends had learnt much through their rebirth—

A vampire with a missing arm leapt to his feet and flew through the air towards Adem, a long dagger clutched in his fist. He wielded Angel-Magic to unleash a ball of red fire when four arrows of flame struck the flying man simultaneously. The man fell in a ball of coloured flames, rolling on the ground and screaming as his flesh turned to ashes to leave remains of charred and crumbling bones.

Soldiers and Aldebrands still patrolled the camp, stopping to stick a sword or spear through the heart of a twitching vampire. Even steel through the heart could kill a vampire due to the severity of the wound and the amount of blood loss. Silver was better for keeping them dead, but silver was not as strong as steel.

Carl looked enraged when Adem glanced across at his face. Adem knew Math Mathonwy must have been explaining to Carl about the fate of the infected men and women. It seemed unthinkable that they would kill women! But they were no longer just human, they were becoming evil.

'We can't let them do it!' Carl shouted suddenly, as they were nearing their tent. Carl dismounted and handed the reins to a nearby Aldebrand wearing a blue mask and gauntlets. Adem said, 'I will speak with Orion and Tobin. Perhaps something else can be arranged. Though, I don't have a viable solution at this point in time.'

'It would be murder, Adem!' Carl shouted in outrage. 'Their blood will be on your hands! I will not stand for it! We came here to help these people, not to murder them! Think of your duty to God, Adem. Think of your immortal soul. If you allow this, I fear there will be no hope for you.' That struck a chord with Adem, and suddenly he felt rage welling up inside himself as he asked, 'Are you saying I will have no place in Heaven? We can't allow a thousand men and women to walk free when they will become bloodsuckers in the next three days! They are weapons for the Jinn-Lord! A disease so terrible it could bring about the demise of an entire civilization. I don't agree with it, Carl! I don't want blood on my hands either! But what other choice do we have?'

They were inside the tent now, the mirrored lamps casting dark shadows on Carl's twisted scowl. Wil moved to sit silently on his bed. He sat cross-legged with his elbows propped on his knees and his chin resting on his palms. He sighed deeply in that silence that stretched until Carl replied, 'We could send them away. It's the humane thing to do. We can't kill women, Adem. If you don't want blood on your hands, then do something about it. You are the great leader of the Saviours. It is your call.' There was derision dripping from his voice at the last.

Adem stood silently for some time, his hand clutching the hilt of his blade, not as a threat, just as a reflex to still his temper. Carl propped his spear of crimson fire against the bedpost and sat with his legs crossed and hands in prayer position. Adem felt his face twitching with nerves at the thought of being left on Earth in purgatory like the ghosts of Bright. He feared that much more than he feared death.

'All right,' Adem said, 'I will go and speak to the kings and tell them there is a change of plans.' A look of hope blossomed on Carl's face as he asked, 'You will spare their lives?'

'There are human lives at stake,' Adem said. 'I agree it is too risky. I could not abide it to be cursed for eternity, a ghost wandering the Earth, consumed by evil to become a thing of nightmares. I have been haunted by those memories for many years, and I will not accept that fate. Though, you ask a lot from me, Carl Wilder. How can I be sure this will not amount to more blood on my hands?'

'I can't guarantee anything,' Carl said, 'but I know this is the right thing to do.'

Adem scowled at that, more uncertainty, more complications, so much responsibility. Finally, he said, 'You two stay here and get some rest. Sleep if you can. You will need your strength if we are to face another attack. I will go and speak to Orion and Tobin. I will see what I can do.'

He then marched towards the tent flaps to push them back and step out into the moonlight. The moon was half full and gave ample light, bathing the camp in a blue hue. Campfires still burnt, throwing light against shining armour and the glint of steel.

Seven Aldebrands in the red masks and gauntlets of the ghoda'sidhe moved to surround him with their blades drawn as he made his way towards Orion's tent. He found both kings standing over a large oak desk, studying maps held down with iron paperweights in the form of eagles. They looked up when he entered alone, their faces wrought with worry in the lamplight. Both still wore burnished armour over their dark coats, their Aldebrand cloaks thrown over nearby chairs.

'You should be resting, Adem Highlander,' Orion said. They nearly always called Adem by his first and last name. It was a custom of the immortals, though not so common when speaking to their own kind. Adem took it as a badge of honour rather than an annoyance. It was a sign of their innocence, naming him the way a child would.

He unpinned his dark cloak and threw it over a nearby high-backed chair carved with vines and worked in gilt.

'We need to talk,' Adem said. He then explained the issue of the infected men and women, stating that Carl Wilder was ordering changes be made to custom and law regarding victims of vampires. The two men tried to argue, with Adem defending his claims like a stone wall. He was still on edge with both of them for keeping secrets about the Hex-Warlords.

Eventually, they caved and agreed they would set them free. They tried to argue that it was pointless providing them with food and water though Adem insisted these were the terms of Carl Wilder, the will of one of the Chosen. Adem admitted he saw great flaws in the plan though he emphasised his desire to preserve his soul.

'We bring to Kismeria the teachings of Jesus Christ. You do not know this man, but on Earth, he is our one True King, the Son of God. We must demonstrate the teachings of our Lord to your people. It is as vital to your own souls as to ours; I believe. To murder innocent men and women is a great sin, worthy of great punishment from the Lord God. There would be too much blood on our hands to wash away.' The two kings stood staring back at him with graven expressions before Tobin said, 'Your Lord Jesus is a forgiving man; is he, Adem Highlander?'

'He teaches us to forgive and befriend our enemies,' Adem said. 'I understand that cannot apply in regard to Nymloc and Jacoulra, but men and women who have not yet been turned are still human beings. We cannot slaughter them like animals.'

'We cannot let a thousand or more potential vampires loose, within a day's ride from Nordhel,' Tobin said. 'We could return to find the entire city is infected. They will fly over the walls and spread the disease to every man, woman, and child.'

'Riders should leave immediately to warn Nordhel,' Adem replied. 'A curfew must be enforced to keep everyone inside by nightfall. The watch should be doubled, and everyone should remain cautious until it is deemed safe. Perhaps hunts should be organised in three days' time to try to put down as many as we can.'

'That is sound advice, Adem Highlander,' Tobin replied with a deep frown. 'We agree to your terms.' Orion then called two of the Aldebrands in and explained the change of plans. They were ordered to spread the word as fast as possible to save anyone from being executed.

'I understand some will die within those three days from their wounds,' Adem explained, that was Arawn's knowledge again. 'You will order the Alit'aren and Ael Tarael to wield Healing-Magic for anyone infected who looks like they will not survive.' Again, the kings tried to argue, but Adem would not relent.

***

Jean collapsed face down on her bedspread, her arms hanging over the sides as she kicked off her boots.

'You need rest,' Terese lectured. 'I'll get some herbs to help you sleep.' Jean didn't argue. Just the thought of another attack made her skin crawl, and she doubted she would get any sleep without the herbs. Even then her dreams would become plagued with nightmares, she was certain about that. When she closed her eyes, the screams of dying men filled her mind, just memories of those screams, but that was enough to make her shiver. When Terese returned with a steaming mug that smelled of cinnamon and parsley and other herbs she didn't know the names of, she gulped it down despite the bitter taste. 'Now sleep,' Terese said like a mother watching over her child.

Jean closed her eyes again; visions of men being torn apart by black claws filled her mind. She tried to chase them away with images of flowers in fields and sunshine and rainbows, but the images always returned, along with the memory of their screams.

When she finally did sleep, her dreams were different than she had expected. She dreamed of Adem, the two of them chasing one another through the hallways of Nordhel, sometimes he hunted her and vice versa. Sometimes his face changed to that of a black ram skulled beast with eyes of flame. She ran from him then, until his face returned and then she would chase him, pulling him down to kiss his lips and play with his coat buttons.

Those dreams lasted most of the five hours she was able to stay asleep. Six hours was common for her, but the returning images of the battle brought her awake with a startled scream. Terese was leaning over her to brush her damp, matted hair from her brow, whispering to her that she was safe. It was past first light, the walls of the tent, glowing with the light of the rising sun.

She knew it was a warm day without even stepping outside. The air in the tent was dry but comfortable. She wiped the remaining sweat from her face and stood to clean herself behind the changing screen that was decorated with birds of many colours. She washed her body with a damp cloth dipped in a pot of warm water, scrubbing her body with a perfumed soap and finishing with sprays of perfume.

She could handle this living outdoors so long as her needs were met adequately. She stretched, yawned, dried herself, and slipped into some fresh undergarments, then stepped out from behind the screen to search the large chests for something to wear.

A golden skirt, yellow boots, and coat were her second choice which she wore with white stockings. She did not wait long before belting on her sword and fastening the harness of her bow case over her breasts. Terese insisted she wear her armour though the only two available didn't go with her outfit. The impossible woman then called a servant in who ran to fetch a golden breastplate! It wasn't that she didn't understand the need for safety; she just considered it more important that she not look the fool in front of Adem.

'You will look even more beautiful in your shiny armour, Miss Perfect,' Terese said, as if reading her thoughts. Two serving girls then entered bearing trays of fresh porridge with honey, dried pears, apples, and mugs of goat's milk. When the dark-eyed young woman set down her tray, Jean noticed twin bite marks, like a snake bite, on her neck!

She tried to remain calm until the two women had left the tent before she told Terese, 'That girl was bitten!' Terese then related Adem and Carl's new declaration that innocents infected by the vampire disease were to be spared and allowed to walk free. 'You see,' Jean said, 'he's not mad, he cares.'

Terese's retort was that, 'It is madness to allow this disease to spread again.'

***

Adem woke from nightmares. He had only slept about three hours. This did nothing good for his symptoms, the lack of sleep or the nightmares. At breakfast, Carl was happy to see two of the serving girls enter with bite marks on their necks. He wasn't glad they were bitten, just that they were still alive.

Adem ate his porridge in a sullen mood. His thoughts were absorbed in what to do about the Travelling Gates. The scouts had left in the night on their altherin horses to send word to every keep, hold, fortress, or kingdom close to any of the Portals though the kings had explained they were not sure they could be sealed in a way that could stop the Hex-Warlords from opening them again.

They couldn't be destroyed, even with Angel-Magic, so the only option was that they be guarded. That would require a small force of wielders or an enormous army to keep watch at every Gate from now until Ragnarök.

Even that would not assure the chance of a demon army of enormous size being transported at any time. The only possible solution was to find a way to copy the portals used by the High-Servants. The idea of capturing one of the Hex-Warlords and forcing them to give up their secrets seemed suicidal. The last hope lay in Carl's theory about wormholes.

He discussed his theory with Carl over breakfast and found some interesting theories were returned. Carl was almost certain he could now increase the size of one of the wormholes to something large enough to walk through. 'Where it would lead to is something that I do not know the answer to,' Carl said. 'I have considered making the attempt, but I feared it could open in the East Lands, or the South Lands, or at Kerak'Otozi! There is great risk in this, Adem.' There was a risk, to be sure, but the need outweighed the risks.

'Think on it,' Adem said. 'Let me know when you come up with something.'

As he stood to make his way to his bedside, Carl said, 'I'm proud of you, Adem. Saving all those lives, you really did something good this time.'

Adem grunted before buckling on his sword belt and fastening his bow case straps across his chest. He left without another word, wearing a grimace. The camp was in the final process of packing up tents and loading wagons.

Most of the Nordics were already mounted and forming a defence around the campsite. He saw Jean riding her white mare with Terese riding beside her on a grey horse. The dead had been buried where they fell, a huge grave for over two thousand soldiers and over two hundred Aldebrands.

Carl and Wil sat their mounts close to the graves, and Carl was saying prayers for their souls. Adem noticed Torin standing there also, making signs and gestures as if he were saying a prayer in the immortal way.

An hour or so later, the last tents were dissembled and packed while Adem trotted around in the saddle. Aldebrands followed him as he patrolled the still smoking bones of vampires. The thousand or more infected soldiers and servants formed a wedge that began to wander back towards Nordhel.

Maybe they hoped they would still be welcomed home. There was no chance of that now though. Some remained, mostly women, staring wide eyed or pleading for help, crying or screaming as they pulled at the coats of men who ignored their pleas. It was a horrific fate. His heart was heavy when he looked into the eyes of those desperate women.

Carl and Wil joined him on their brown horses not long after, and then they were joined by Tobin and Orion, Torin and Kailus, all mounted and wearing armour over their coats. A half hour or so later, the horses began to move, and the carts began to roll.

They would push the cart horses faster today to try to get some distance between them and the Travelling Gate. Moving such a massive force after nightfall was not an option, however. They would have to make camp and wait out their fate. Arawn was weary from battle. His Battle Angel would not be able to fight so hard if they were attacked tonight.

The last of the frantic women were left behind, still wailing with tears streaming down their cheeks. He saw Jean looking at the infected women with a pained expression. He hoped none of them returned in search of blood.

***

Tairark Vampire-King watched the Highlander army slowly moving off through the fields in the morning light. He and Torkhan remained hidden in the forest, watching with hatred as the campsite was dissembled. The next time the Highlander boy would need more than his Fire-Sentinels to put a stop to their forces.

The High-Jinn would not be pleased, however. He had expected a complete annihilation of the Saviours. The High-Jinn had instructed Tairark to crush them and to leave no survivors. He didn't relish the idea of returning to Kerak'Otozi to report his failure. Punishment could be brutal, even for one of the High-Servants.

'He is getting stronger,' Torkhan whispered, like a soft rumble of thunder. 'How long before we are outmatched?' Tairark wondered about that same question. They would have to strike soon to ensure that did not transpire. His only reply was, 'We are leaving.'

Then he made a hole in the air, warping reality to make two places join much like the methods Souljhin used to teleport through shadows when using a Jhin-Tap. Passing through that portal to enter the heart of Kerak'Otozi would be a world of pain and suffering for any but the High-Servants, though for Tairark, it was home. So, the Sons of Odin had decided to spare those who were bitten by vampires, a sign of weakness; he began to think of ways he could exploit that knowledge.

He stepped through the portal to enter a dark tunnel with cave-like walls that flowed down around him like mud sliding down mountains, flames danced on those walls and further ahead. He moved swiftly towards the glowing beacon at the end of the tunnel, the heart of Kerak'Otozi.

He was aware of Torkhan trailing him, aware of his unease over facing the High-Jinn. When they reached the end of the tunnel, they stood on a black stone bridge that extended halfway towards the cylindrical walls of flame that burst upwards from the endless depths.

The beacon of flames rose in a funnel of dark cave walls that was large at the bottom and becoming smaller towards the top. It was Mount Kerak'Otozi, the fountains of fire erupted from the opening at the tip of the mountain, the volcano, spreading dark clouds across the Eastlands and the Southlands.

Tairark and Torkhan waited at the edge of the bridge with the heat of the fountain of fire bathing him in its rich glow. The fire rose thousands of feet above them and was over five hundred feet wide at their level and growing larger as it descended into the earth.

The fountain of fire would glow golden-orange, then crimson fire, jade-green fountains, then eruptions of blue light, then purple, then white hot, the stolen Elemental Magic of the Great Angels that fed Jinn-Fendinn in his Resting Point. Then they heard the voice of the High-Jinn, a thundering echo of evil that filled their minds with agony like thousands of tiny needles burning inside their skulls.

YOU HAVE FAILED ME, TAIRARK! MY ORDERS WERE EXPLICIT! NONE WERE TO BE LEFT ALIVE! YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR INCOMPETENCE!

The pain rushed from his skull to flow through his veins like molten lava, frying his bones, melting his flesh. The agony continued as the High-Jinn spoke again.

YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN PART IN THE BATTLE! YOU WOULD HAVE DEFEATED THEM IF YOU HAD! I SHOULD MAKE AN EXAMPLE OF YOU!

That spawned true fear in Tairark's dark heart. He was no coward though he feared death. Death was not the end for those who served the High-Jinn, it was only the beginning. The High-Jinn had promised that Tairark and his Brothers would one day become Dark Angels of the Low Realm if they succeeded at the Ragnarök Battle. If the High-Jinn decided to kill him before then, he would become a tortured slave of in the depths of Hell.

'I will not fail you, High-Jinn!' Tairark pleaded with his hands raised towards the pillar of flames. 'Give me this chance to prove my worth!' For a time, the only sound was the roar of the flames rushing up through the darkness.

THIS WILL BE YOUR LAST CHANCE! THESE ARE MY ORDERS!

Chapter 14

The Holy Cross

Adem rode in silence for most of the morning, as did Carl and Wil who rode to either side of his dark stallion on their brown colts. He assumed Carl's thoughts were consumed by the innocent women who would become vampires in three days' time. What would be their fate? Most likely they would be hunted and killed in a short amount of time, though those who were able to find blood and remain hidden by day and fly by night could make it anywhere across the Free Lands. Spreading the vampire disease to create an army of Nightwalkers.

He tried not to think on it. He had done what Carl had ordered, or requested, to ensure his guilt wasn't another burden on his soul. They rode towards the head of the army, with thousands of lancers and other soldiers leading the march to form a guard for the Saviours and rulers. Aldebrands were amongst those front ranks, along with some wielders to attack and defend with Angel-Magic if necessary.

Adem rode behind the Immortal Kings and Torin, Kailus, and Arig, with Jean, Terese, and the two Immortal Queens riding on their right flank. Kelderath, Maldros, and Morthros rode in front of the kings as the bulk of the front lines of soldiers belonged to their armies. They would command the charge of lancers and see to the defences if another attack came about.

After three hours of riding Adem asked Carl, 'Have you given any thoughts to my theory?' Carl looked at him with wide eyes, filled with pain and regret. He had obviously been thinking of the infected women. They were mostly mortal servants of Nordhel or the mortal armies who had journeyed to Nordhel. They would become dangerous creatures, though the immortal vampire could become even more powerful.

Vampires survived as long as they could find fresh blood, including mortals who now had the gift of immortality despite their curse. If a vampire went for weeks without blood, they would become more monstrous in appearance, dark around the eyes or eyes black as seeds. Their fangs becoming elongated to the point that they looked like some kind of wild animal, and their skin turning dry and flaky.

Feeding could replenish their disguise, even making their eyes appear human, which made it easier for them to hide their danger to unsuspecting victims. The bite marks vanished after their first feed; vampire healing was reliant on blood.

Human blood gave them greater powers, including the ability to fly, hide in darkness as if becoming a part of the shadows, increased strength, endurance, magic, and so on.

All this knowledge was passed to Adem by Arawn through the kigare. The ki'mera Arawn had absorbed through Adem's sword was revitalising his Battle Angel, though he was still in need of a few days rest to return to his usual strength. That meant it was vital they avoid another battle of that scale and doubly important that they avoid wasting their Battle Angel's ki'mera fighting human armies.

He considered this a positive to some degree as it would make it easier to convince the two kings that it was unwise to use the Battle Angels against the farmer armies. He didn't want more human blood smearing his reputation.

Finally, Carl said, 'I have thought about it a little. I have a few theories to test when I think it is safe to try. My thoughts are we may need to try to open one wormhole and join it to another a long distance away which is also enlarged when they make contact.

'With Angel-Magic, I can sense wormholes, even one a long distance away. I can feel them, feel their energy. I learnt to do this with the hope of returning home, but I promise I won't make that attempt until we've completed our mission. I'm not able to sense them beyond this world anyway, so I don't know if I will ever be able to get us home.' His shoulders sagged at the last and his face looked bleak.

Adem replied, 'We will find our way home when the time is right, Carl. I understand your concerns. I'm also concerned that my parents may have been searching for me all this time, and they may be frantic with worry. But there is nothing we can do about that now. We are here now, and we must do what must be done.'

He saw Terese speaking to Jean after that and then saw Jean give him an approving nod. So, the immortal woman was eavesdropping and telling Jean what they discussed. He would have to choose his words carefully.

'I'm proud of you too, Carl,' Adem said after a pause, 'and you too, Wil. You showed real courage and determination last night, and an insight into battle strategies that I do not remember being explained by any of our instructors.' That last was phrased with a hint of questioning, in an attempt to probe from them the source of their knowledge. 'I was a bit concerned there for a while,' he continued, 'as you were both gone for so long. I began to wonder—'

Both his friends scoffed at that, and Wil cut him off saying, 'We would never abandon you, Adem. We are all in this thing together.' Carl gave an approving nod to that, though his face was still grim.

He also wondered if what Carl had said was true, that Adem must be the Blue Water Dragon, as Carl had seen him flying through the sky with wings of blue flame. Arawn explained that the Prophecies stated only the Blue Water Dragon would learn the ability of flight, out of the three Sons of Odin.

So, if that were true, it meant he must be the leader of their mission and the crux of victory at the Ragnarök Battle. Though, Arawn said things were possible in the Arch that weren't possible in reality. He may have used Angel-Magics of the Arch to create wings and fly through those realms, though proof of his title would be earned when he could perform the same spell in reality.

An hour later, they began to push through orchards of oranges, apples, and peaches, a large farm that stretched for miles with three large farmhouses clustered together on a green field. Each house was three storeys of blue stone with dark slate roofs and oak balconies and verandas. On the other side of the farmhouses were stonewalled fences that held thousands of sheep and goats, a herd of cows, and three large chicken coops fenced off with meshed wire.

They halted for an hour or so to pay the farmers for supplies, fruit, animal stock, and barrels of their apple cider for the nobles to savour. The bulk of the army would survive on water for the next few months.

The farmers were mortals, all the same extended family, some forty-three of them, including the women and children. Carl urged that they be warned about the threat of another demon invasion. He suggested they buy their entire stock when the farmers insisted that they could not leave their farms behind.

Eventually, the three head male farmers agreed – thick muscled, dark-bearded men with dark eyes and hard faces – they had the look of veterans who possibly understood the danger better than the younger males. A lot of gold was passed over before the men decided they had been suitably reimbursed for their losses. The animals were slaughtered, salted, and loaded on carts except for the chickens and ducks that were stored live in large wooden crates. They would not have to use their supplies for some time except for the flour and grains to make bread.

The soldiers leading the farmers to the city were given orders to send more scouts and soldiers to bring in all the families surrounding Nordhel.

He looked forward to his evening Healing-Magic. His morning's Healing-Magic was overlooked as a result of the attack last night. He felt better to receive it each morning as well as at night. He considered asking one of the Ael Tarael to soothe his symptoms while the stock was still being loaded on to carts but decided it would only slow things up.

It was nearing midday by the position of the sun, a golden ball of fire moving towards the centre of the sky. There were still enough hours in the day for the farmers to reach the city, though Adem warned them at the last minute that there may be some surviving vampires still roaming these lands. If they halted to water the horses, they may not reach the city walls before nightfall and then fall easy prey to Nightwalkers. It was then decided that they would make camp then and there; they had moved over five miles from the battlefield which wasn't far enough, but Carl enforced his wishes to protect these people.

So, they would make camp and the family of farmers would be led to Nordhel an hour after first light. That would give them time to arrive safely, though the other scouts left immediately on immortal horses, including four Aldebrands who were sent to Nordhel to explain the new orders.

Pushed hard the altherin horses could reach Nordhel and the nearby farms in an hour or less. Some farms may be only a quarter hour ride away. So, they were doing their best to protect the innocent and stem the spread of the disease. Carl looked satisfied, though he didn't smile.

Adem wondered if his brooding was a sign of his friend's symptoms returning, or that he was just concerned over the problems they faced. Wil appeared less stressed as they moved their horses to the picket lines where mortal men in Wolf Rohjor livery moved to take the reins as they dismounted.

As they were waiting for their tent to be constructed, Adem recalled the large wooden cross Carl had had erected over the mass grave of the slain soldiers. It was originally two plain planks of wood, though while Carl prayed, Adem saw light of changing colours spreading along the timber, carving smaller crosses, and shaping the wood to look ornamental.

The wood became dark as if stained and the colours remained when Carl finished his prayer. From what Adem could make out, Carl had also created Angel-Spells to protect the grave from scavengers. It was another ability Adem had never been taught.

Those Angel-Magics were much more complex than anything Carl had been capable of before entering the Arch. It seemed Carl was more adept at wielding than him. What else have they learnt? he had wondered as he stared at that cross of light, the first symbol of Jesus to stand permanently in Kismeria. It was the first Christian graveyard.

He wanted to question Carl about those Angel-Spells, though he assumed it was also forbidden. To his surprise, Carl wandered off with a host of Aldebrands and soldiers, some bearing axes, to return later bearing another cross, even larger than the first, that stood over fifteen feet high and was ten feet wide on the crossbar.

Ael Tarael used Angel-Magic to dig the hole and plant the massive structure, and Carl began to pray and create new Angel-Spells as the familiar light and symbols were engraved in the wood. Again, the freshly cut timber became rectangular planes of dark-stained wood, a preserving element of some kind.

He noticed Carl bind the Angel-Spell this time that allowed the coloured light to continue to shine on the engraved symbols. Adem and Wil made their way to the cross that stood at the centre of the clearing between the three farmhouses. Adem looked at the carvings to see that they were human friezes explaining the tale of Christ's Crucifixion. Each frieze glowed in a different colour from the one next to it, golden, aqua, crimson, emerald, or mauve; then the colours alternated. It was a marvellous creation!

'What about the Jinn-Magic?' Adem asked, after staring for some time. 'Won't it corrupt this creation until it becomes something dangerous, something evil?'

Carl shook his head as he stared at the friezes, saying, 'I think I have worked out a way to filter Jinn-Magic out of what I create with Angel-Magic. I still sense Jinn-Magic as it is a part of what I am wielding, though the final creation seems to be cleansed.' That made Adem's eyebrows rise. His friend must be highly skilled with magic to understand such spells.

'But what is it?' Adem asked, 'Besides a cross I mean? Does it do anything other than glow and tell a story?'

'I am not certain of what it will do,' Carl replied, 'other than teach the message of Christ. Though there is a magic that radiates from it now, sending out ... something ... Angel-Magic ... perhaps the Power of Christ. I have not felt his Power strongly in this world.

'It is as if he is not a part of it. But he must be! He is the Son of God, the same God that made Kismeria. Anyway, the main purpose of it is to begin to spread the word of the Gospel.

'I will construct more wherever we go, until all of Kismeria knows of His Sacrifice. If they can learn about the man, they will learn to follow his teachings.'

'You should have scholars write down the stories of the Bible.' Wil said.

Adem thought that was a fine idea, and he did not doubt Carl had memorised every passage of the Bible to some extent through his constant readings. Carl agreed and hurried off to locate scribes and writing materials, shadowed by Aldebrands and Ael Tarael.

Hopefully that would keep his friend distracted enough to avoid falling prey to dark thoughts. There were a number of scribes and scholars within the camp who were brought along to record the events that took place during their journey. Scholars and scribes had been recording events at Nordhel since the arrival of Adem and his friends. They called these recordings the Rohjor Chronicles.

***

Wil left Adem standing and staring at the Holy Cross Carl had created. He didn't want anyone to know it, but he had noticed one of the young farmer girls staring at him with a sly grin. She had raven tresses and a pale complexion, slender with nice curves. She wore a white shirt with lace at the neck, and wrists, and a dark skirt, that fell to her dark booted ankles. Most of her long hair was in two thick braids, which suggested she was not yet old enough to marry, though she looked at least nineteen, which meant she was.

He found she was actually only eighteen 'and a half' when he managed to make conversation with the young woman. Hayley Mijimha was her name. The three families fell under the names Mijimha, Alsop, Danley and Melodi. Her father was head of her family. Brose Hone Mijimha was his name.

Her sisters and cousins stood nearby whispering and giggling, as Wil tried to find out more about the girl. They were all dark haired with large sincere gazes. Her brothers and male cousins who also stood nearby looked less than pleased whenever they glanced his way.

One of the Chosen he may be, but that didn't mean he had a right to speak to Hayley, in their obvious opinion. He tried to think of a way to calm their mood, and then he had the notion to use a birdcall to summon a small flock of tiny little birds from the nearby trees.

At first, they all stared at him with shocked expressions, until seven of the little birds swooped down to land, chirping in a circle around Hayley's feet. They were cute enough to settle their nerves he wagered.

It was forbidden to tell of those memories from past lives of the Dremelden, though as he understood it, it was not forbidden to reveal secrets learnt through that experience.

Two more of the coloured birds landed on either of his shoulders when Hayley asked, 'Where did you learn that? Have you been receiving lessons from the Dremelden?' Wil didn't give her an answer, other than to use another chirrup which sent the birds flying back into the skies.

'Can we talk somewhere private?' he asked her. It was a very forward question to ask, though he wanted to get some alone time with this pretty girl if it was possible.

'My sisters will have to join me,' she said, but with a smile. 'This is Cara and Emma.' The two girls were almost twins, though one looked only about fifteen, while the other was maybe a year younger than Hayley. 'I will show you our home,' Hayley said. 'It is a humble dwelling, but it is a comfortable living space.'

'It's much bigger than where I grew up,' Wil said.

He wondered if he could get her alone if he used the excuse of seeing her bedroom. It wasn't just that he had been a long time without a woman; the girl reminded him of a girl back home. He found that a strange coincidence seeing as the girl had made eyes at him, so he wanted to investigate. Her brothers Thad and Gilm followed them, much to his disappointment. The two boys who were both in their early twenties eyed him suspiciously but with small grins as they took over the tour of the house. 'Upstairs is where we sleep,' Thad explained, with an ever-wider grin as he said, 'though there is nothing there you haven't seen countless times before, I'm sure.'

Drats! Wil thought to himself. He heard the deep echoing rumble of Dis Pater chuckling inside his mind. He resisted the urge to blush with some difficulty. It wasn't always a good thing to share the kigare with your Battle Angel.

The kitchen was large enough for the family of twelve plus the parents and an uncle who lived with them, polished oak benches forming an arc with slate tiled floors. The walls were whitewashed, with timber beams crossed at angles, with a roof that rose over fifteen feet on the lowest floor. A large fireplace stood on the west wall, with a very long dining table of polished oak, and twenty chairs.

'Perhaps we could take a stroll through the orchards?' Wil asked Hayley.

'We will escort you,' Thad said.

'My sisters will join me, thank you, Thad,' Hayley replied with a touch of scorn. 'There are still plenty of soldiers harvesting the trees, so we will be quite safe.'

She then stepped to Wil to link arms with him, and they strolled out the door with her sisters following; giggling behind their hands. Thad and Gilm followed them anyways, at a distance to try to avoid notice.

Hayley made a soft hissing noise when she noticed them trailing but did not try to stop them with further words. 'My brothers are very protective, Wil Martyr,' she said as they walked under the apple branches.

Wil replied with, 'I understand, Hayley. I would be too, if I had a sister as gorgeous as you are.' That was heavy flirtation, though the girl simply smiled and took him by the hand to pull him behind a tree trunk. Then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, hard, and with passion.

His eyes were wide in shock for a moment, until he closed them and started to kiss her back. That lasted more than a minute, and when they pulled away, they stared at each other for moments longer. When they stepped back out into view, he saw Thad and Gilm rushing towards them with their right hands resting on the bronzed hilts of their long blades.

Hayley shouted to them that, 'We are fine! We do not need rescuing! Go back and help Papa, both of you!' The boys eventually kicked at the soil with their leather boots before turning and marching away, looking back over their shoulders with scowls every so often. Her sisters hung back while Hayley pulled him back behind the same tree, and she kissed him again! He was going to have to carve their initials on that tree, in glowing colours like Carl's Holy Crosses.

Chapter 15

In the Word

Carl had the scribes and scholars brought to his tent, along with a large oak desk retrieved from one of the carts, piles of fresh brown parchment cut into neat rectangles the size of a large print book, ink wells, quills, and plenty of vials of dark ink. He sat behind the desk in a high-backed cushioned throne carved with vines and grapes, while the scribes and scholars worked at small wooden desks piled with paper.

There were four scribes and two scholars taking down six identical versions of the Bible. Carl began with Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, as he wanted the stories of Christ to be foremost in their teachings. He was loath about lecturing them on Genesis as he feared those passages would conflict with the histories of Kismeria in too many ways to even consider.

He would complete those four books first, then perhaps move on to Revelations, as it revolved around issues related to his imaginings of what the Battle of Ragnarök might look like. As he recited each passage, the scribes and scholars scribbled down the words furiously. He instructed them to write as legibly as possible however, so that more copies could be made by others.

They sat for hours as he worked his way through what he could remember of each book and verse. He tried to keep it as accurate as possible, and he had a good memory for Bible passages. Servants brought him a tray of fresh bread, roast lamb, fresh apples, and goat's cheese, at around four in the evening, though he didn't touch it till after six.

He had already demonstrated the format for the writings, making it as exact a copy as he could without having the book in his clutches for an example. Two of the scholars were immortal, Danil Mardel and Aldin Foebius. Those two stood the entire time, listening but not writing; the rest were mortals, though they were all from Nordhel.

The two immortals continued to interrupt him with questions, which was infuriating after a time. Though, after an Ael Tarael came to see to his Healing-Magic, he was relieved of a growing unease at their constant nit-picking. They always wanted to know more about the events, particularly about the people who had witnessed the miracles of Christ. They required hard evidence. That was their game.

Carl kept telling them, 'The witnesses are the evidence. They are the proof!' But the scholars always wanted to know who had recorded the testimonies of these witnesses and when. Carl's limited understanding of that issue was that there may have been several hundred years between the telling of Bible stories and the beginning of scribes and religious scholars recording those events. 'It is a testimony of faith!' he shouted at them. 'Of stories passed down through the generations from the times of the real eyewitnesses. Even God wants faith more than he wants proof. You people live in a reality where spirituality is commonplace. On Earth we only have the stories of the Bible, from a time when writing something down after witnessing it was the only form of evidence.'

'What about Adem Highlander's polygraphs?' Danil asked after a pause, the last word spoken slowly and rolled around on his tongue. He was typically tall for an immortal, rake thin, with a thick grey moustache and bushy brows. He had a calculating expression and a gaze that weighed every word, tone, and gesture.

Aldin was almost identical except his dark hair had no grey. Both had short, spiked haircuts, and they wore the Lion Rohjor sigil on their dark coats with red-and-gold embroidery. Carl gave a deep sigh after swallowing a large chunk of cheese. He nearly choked on the mouthful when the man questioned him about Adem Highlander's bloody polygraphs!

He took a swig of the sweet apple cider from a glazed clay mug before saying, 'There were no bloody polygraphs back then! People ... just ... had ... faith.' The last was spoken through clenched teeth of frustration.

'So, let me see if I understand this correctly,' Aldin said. 'Your teachings come from a time when there were no polygraphs, no recording devices like your mobile phones,' Carl had instructed them on the correct name, 'and you expect us to believe these writings from your ancient histories, which are based on the tales of descendants of the real eyewitnesses?'

'That is what I am telling you,' Carl said in an irate tone. 'You must have similar methods for recording your histories. You have no recording devices other than paper and ink.'

'Yes, but we have the testimonies of the Great Angels,' Aldin interjected, 'and the testimonies of the immortals who are the eyewitnesses to events that may have happened as long ago as your Christ, or even longer, much longer. What of these angels who spoke to Christ's mother after his Resurrection? Were they Great Angels too?'

'Yes, they were!' Carl lied emphatically. He didn't know what kind of angels they were, though he knew they were important enough for him to make the claim that they were Great Angels.

That issue had also always puzzled him since he first arrived in Kismeria, and learnt of Jinn-Magic, and the Great Angels fleeing Earth. Surely the angels in Heaven were not affected by Jinn-Magic. So why were the Great Angels, who were worshipped as Celtic Gods, so susceptible to infection? And if the High Realm and Heaven were joined between the two worlds, what was there to stop Jinn-Magic spreading to Heaven also?

His thoughts were interrupted again when Aldin remarked, 'It still all seems terribly inconclusive.' That got Carl hot under the collar, and he almost exploded in his retort saying, 'Inconclusive is what they call Adem Highlander's bloody polygraph report! This is the Word of God!'

***

Adem was heading towards his tent when he heard Carl shouting from inside, about God and polygraphs. He sounded like he was in a foul mood, so Adem turned tail and marched towards the campfires where the entire farmer family were gathered, and Aldebrands flowing behind him like hawks in search of prey.

Jean was there, talking to some of the farmers' daughters. Terese was close by her side, watching her like an eagle. Jean wore golden armour, over her yellow coat and skirt, and Terese wore dark green, slashed with emerald across the coat and skirt, with blue silk stockings, and lime green leather boots. Over a dozen Aldebrands surrounded the two women also, many wore boots of bright reds, greens, blues, or yellows to match their coats and armour, though others wore plain brown leather.

The same Torvellen woman stood close to one of the central fires, with the same musicians seated on logs and stumps. The Torvellen woman wore a deep blue silk gown, sewn with pearls around the low-cut neckline, and silver embroidery across the breasts and sleeves. Arawn confirmed the song was The March for Sinder Falls. It was a song about some ancient battle, where the march was a final mission from which most would not return. They were an army of some twenty thousand, facing demon hordes that outnumbered them ten to one. Adem felt it was a fitting tune considering the loss of so many lives the night before.

Tilden Acronis – a dark-eyed Aldebrand with long black hair tied at the nape of the neck – stood beside Adem in his shadow cloak, and gleaming emerald armour, over a black coat. The man had been appointed Aldebrand to Adem many times since their arrival in Kismeria.

Tilden was also there at his side during the battle last night. Mason Fordrel stood to his left – a taller Aldebrand with a hard gaze, and a spiked dark fringe – in blue armour, under a dark blue coat, dark trousers, and blue leather boots. Both wore their bows slanted across their backs, as did all eleven of the Aldebrands who had shadowed him most of the day.

Though all seemed to favour their swords, as their hands hovered above their golden hilts; ready to draw steel in an instant. Finally, Tilden leaned towards Adem's ear to whisper, 'It may not be my place to say this, Adem Highlander. But I do not think it wise to stand idly when the risk of another attack draws near.'

It was true, the sky was beginning to darken, and with nightfall came the risk of another demon horde crossing the distance between the Travelling Gate and their campsite. Adem was still weary from lack of sleep and the use of Angel-Magic the night before. He felt as if he could sleep for a week if he was allowed, and he would be of little use if they were attacked tonight.

'I understand your concern, Tilden,' he said. 'But the defences are more secure tonight. There are more wielders on the outer edges of the camp, with enough soldiers and Aldebrands to hold off another attack, at least for the short term. I am weary and shaken from last night's ordeal, and the music is soothing. It helps my recuperation.'

That was the plain truth, though what he did not admit was that he also wanted to be close to Jean. Terese looked his way, from time to time, with a scowl that almost sent shivers down his spine. How far would that woman go to keep them apart? Jean spoke in whispers to the girls close to her own age, all were slender and pale skinned; all of them quite pretty too. He wanted to go over and speak with her, but he didn't want to interrupt her conversation. He also feared the wrath of Terese.

The young men were seated on blankets further from the fire, with the mothers and fathers and grandparents seated further back, some on wooden rocking chairs that must have been carried from the farmhouses. The three bearded men who were the heads of the families sat smoking pipes, with pints of cider, sitting on stumps beside their chairs.

They were hard-eyed men; each had the look of a veteran who knew how to handle the bronze hilted swords that rested against the arms of their chairs. When he looked into the innocent faces of the very young, some children only four or five years old, he hoped they all made it safely to Nordhel.

The next tune was the Fiddler and the Donkey. Arawn explained it was a light-hearted tune more suited to the inns and taverns of the lower classes. Adem assumed it was chosen to entertain the young ones. A smile crept on to the faces of the three bearded men, and they began to slap their knees in time to the tune. Some of the children began to dance and play which also brought smiles to many other faces, including Jean and Terese.

As darkness fell upon them, the mood became almost grim, however. The music continued though the farmer families appeared tense over the prospect of another attack. Tilden looked to the east, perhaps sensing for any demons in the distance, as did all the Aldebrands, while also trying to look in every direction at once. During that time, a larger crowd of Aldebrands and wielders gathered by the fires to listen to the tunes.

As Adem's thoughts began to drift, he started wondering what memories Jean had obtained through her experience in the Chameleon Arch. The memories he had of lives where he had made love to her, been married to her, had children with her, were not exactly shared experiences.

She would have no memory of those experiences that he witnessed, nor did he know of any of the memories she had obtained with him. A part of them was shared in the experience though it was not the same as the shared experiences he had had with Carl and Wil, in which they could all remember what they saw and heard and learnt. Sometimes she looked at him with such love; he knew she must have had some of the same experiences that he had.

Other times, she looked at him as if he were a rabid wolf, needing to be put down before he went wild and murdered innocent people. His sense of her through the kigare confirmed it was not just a look. Sometimes she truly hated him, as if he were the most repulsive being on the face of the planet.

What had she seen? How could he convince her that they were just possible visions of the future? How could he win back her trust? Her mood during the battle last night had mostly been a sense of pride, however. He had sensed her pride in his abilities to fight the demons. Hope too, she seemed to radiate the same sense of hope that he had felt ever since he achieved victory in the Arch.

Each time she looked his way tonight, he sensed her love for him, tinged with distrust and fear. He imagined it was fear of what he was to become. If only he could find a way to reduce the concentration of Jinn-Magic within teron. That would assure them of victory.

If he failed to do this, he knew Kismeria would suffer the Age of Chaos, where mad Alit'aren destroyed the world with Angel-Magic. He had seen glimpses of that future through the Arch, and it was terrifying to think that it might come true. According to the Prophecies, it was destined to occur. He wondered if Carl could figure out a way to cleanse Jinn-Magic, given his new understanding of Angel-Spells that could create something like the Holy Crosses, which were removed from Jinn-Magic in their completion.

He discussed this with Carl when he returned to his tent. His friend was also weary from last night's battle, and his afternoon of dictating the stories of the Bible. He still seemed to be in a foul mood when he sent the scribes and scholars away, though Adem guessed it was from his attempts to teach, rather than his symptoms, that should have been eased since his Healing-Magic. An Ael Tarael arrived to provide Healing-Magic for Adem at around half past seven, a different woman again this time, with dark hair and kind blue eyes. Her expression was also tense, however. The other Nordic Ael Tarael asked after Wil, but neither of them knew where he was.

'I suspect he is rolling in the hay with one of the farmer's daughters,' said the fair-haired woman with a sniff, before she stalked out of the tent. The thought hadn't occurred to Adem, that this might be what his friend was doing, until the woman suggested it.

Though once it was mentioned, his faint sense of Wil's emotions through the kigare suggested that it was exactly what he was up to! Arawn offered no insights from his connection with Wil's Battle Angel; however. Adem and Carl shrugged their shoulders and decided they had better go look for him.

One of the Chosen he may be, but he might find this young woman's father would do his best to drive a sword through Wil's heart, if he found the pair locked in a fit of passion. He might be forgetting what a different world he was now living in, filled with ancient customs and traditions, especially regarding love and marriage.

They were able to locate him quite easily, using their sense of him through the kigare. Carl seemed more attuned to Wil through that connection, while Adem seemed more closely tied to Jean's emotions.

They were nearing one of the farmhouses, when Wil stepped out of one of the side doors. He was walking with his arm around the waist of a young farmer girl. They did not ask exactly what had occurred between them, though the girl was blushing bright red when she saw them approaching. Adem assumed Wil had sensed Carl and him, getting closer to their location. Wil would have realised they were searching for him. Either that; or Dis Pater had tipped him off!

'This is Hayley,' Wil said. 'She wants to join us.'

'That sounds too dangerous for such a young woman,' Carl interjected. 'Besides, I doubt her parents would allow it. Think of the risks, Wil. She will be safer at Nordhel.'

'I am old enough to make my own decisions,' Hayley said. 'Though I know nothing of battle or sword play, I am skilled with the bow. Archery practice is something we are taught from a young age. A woman hiding in an attic window can be a formidable protection from bandits, and wolves are also a problem in these parts. Besides, Wil and I are to be married!'

Wil suddenly looked shocked to his core as he looked at her and said, 'But I only kissed you!'

Hayley frowned, as she said, 'It is the only decent thing to do, Wil Martyr. My parents would not approve unless we are wedded this very evening.'

'I will perform the ceremony,' Carl said with a sly grin.

'But you're not even a priest!' Wil spluttered.

'My father is a pastor,' Carl replied. 'I know the formalities. Shall we do it right here and now, or do you want more witnesses?' His amused tone was blatant.

'My family would be very hurt if they were not included,' Hayley said with a smile, and then she hurried off to alert them of the news. Wil stared after her, as if he were about to speak, but then he said nothing.

Carl slapped Wil on the shoulder as he said, 'Congratulations, old friend! Welcome to the club!' Adem assumed he meant the married club.

Adem suddenly remembered Orion's words when they first arrived. What would happen when they left Kismeria, only to return over a thousand years later? Hayley was mortal, what hope was there in this marriage?

He explained his concern to Carl and Wil, but Wil simply said, 'We will find a way around it, Adem. Perhaps she can learn to wield. She could live much longer then.'

'Yes, but most mortal wielders don't live past five or six hundred years,' Adem said. 'I'm only worried for you, Wil. How will you take it if you return here a thousand years later and Hayley is long gone? How will you cope?'

Wil sighed, and scratched his head for a moment, before he looked at Adem and said, 'I think I might already be in love with her, Adem. I actually do want to marry her. I was just in shock when she suggested it. Whatever happens is fate, I can't change that, but this is something I have to do.'

'Yes, God will find a way,' Carl said with a smile. 'Now, are you ready to get married?' Wil nodded, and they made their way back to the campfires where the farmer families were gathered. There were dozens of Aldebrands surrounding the farmers, as well as Ael Tarael and Alit'aren in small clusters.

Hayley's father had apparently heard the news, as he was giving Wil a brutal glare, as if he wanted to crush his bones with his bare hands. At Carl's command, they all made their way to the Holy Cross. It was glowing incandescent in the darkness. A silvery light traced the figures of everyone who stood before the Cross.

Wil stood in the centre of the clearing, facing Carl, while the musicians played a local wedding tune, as Hayley was marched towards them, with an arm linked to her father's. When Hayley stood beside Wil, Carl began the ceremony. It was traditional in the language, traditional for a Christian wedding, which would seem only fitting in Carl's opinion.

He did add in a few words and phrases that he must have learnt from Math Mathonwy, suited to a traditional Kismerian wedding. Finally, Carl asked, 'Do you, Wil Martyr, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?' To which Wil answered, 'I do.'

'And do you, Hayley Mijimha, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?'

To which Hayley replied, 'I do.'

'Then I now pronounce you, husband and wife,' Carl said. 'You may kiss the bride.' The newly married couple locked eyes, then lips, and held each other in a tight embrace. Cheers erupted from the farmer families, clapping and shouting as the music began to play.

The farmers began to dance with their wives, and the young boys and girls stomped and swayed to the music with bright smiles. Even the Ael Tarael chose Alit'aren or Aldebrand partners to join in the dancing, until the dark field was a flowing tide of illuminated figures. The festivities then moved back to the campfires, where more Ael Tarael, Alit'aren, and Aldebrands stood watching, some stomping, clapping and swaying to the tunes. They were normally so stone faced it was a little amusing to witness their revelry.

The outer defences were still heavily guarded; however. They were not taking any chances this time. Dinner turned into a feast of roasted meats, breads, cheeses, fruit, and cider. The large dining tables were carried out of the farmhouses and covered in white cloths in a U-shape around one of the fires, with the married couple seated at its head.

Adem, Wil, and Jean also sat along the head table, with Terese and the two kings and queens to either side. They had also been present for the ceremony. Adem and Carl gave speeches, wishing every happiness to the married couple, both of them avoiding making any mention of other women in Wil's past.

The speeches were followed by more cheers and applause, more music and feasting. The crowds that had gathered shared in the feast, Ael Tarael and Alit'aren seated on large blankets around the fires, but the Aldebrands remained standing while they sampled meats and cheeses.

As the party was winding down, the crowd began to thin, and Wil and Hayley waved goodbye to everyone, before making their way to their private tent.

Adem watched as his friend walked away, with an arm around the waist of his new bride. He turned to see Jean standing behind him. She wore one of those curious smiles of hers, large blue eyes shining. She was so beautiful.

He wanted to ask her if she would reconsider marriage, but his sense of her through the kigare was that she felt uneasy in his presence, so he said, 'You look lovely this evening, Jean. I like what you've done with your hair.' It was up in one of those intricate braids she did in the feast style, copying the Immortal Queens. She had changed into a pale blue silk dress, with silver embroidery across the breasts, and dark blue slashes across the thighs. It had a high-necked collar, with no neckline, suited to the most modest noblewoman, buttoned up with white pearls.

She looked as if she were about to say something when Terese called from the shadows, 'Jean, it is time for bed. Come quickly now, girl. You need your rest.' Jean turned towards Terese, looked back at Adem for a moment, her expression filled with what looked to be suffering, and then she turned and hurried off into the darkness.

Adem stared after her until Carl clasped him on the shoulder, saying, 'We best get some sleep too, Adem.' Adem gave a deep sigh, and moved off towards his tent, with Carl at his side and Aldebrands on their flanks. It must have been one in the morning, the near half-moon bright in the starlit sky. The rest of the campsite was either mounds of sleeping soldiers on blankets, or Aldebrands, Ael Tarael and Alit'aren patrolling the campfires in small groups.

Most Ael Tarael had tents of their own, but some Alit'aren took to sleeping under the stars like the soldiers and Aldebrands. There were more tents if needed, but the weather allowed for a makeshift campsite that could be easily dissembled. Adem realised how tired he was when his head hit the pillow. He had stripped off his sword belt and dark coat, kicked off his brown leather boots, and lay in his dark trousers and pale cotton shirt. Carl extinguished the lamps when he finally climbed into his own cot, and Adem closed his eyes, and let sleep take him.

Chapter 16

Rivers of Sorrow

Jean sat up in her cot, drenched in sweat after waking from a nightmare about Adem. Those nightmares had plagued her dreams ever since she emerged from the Chameleon Arch. That test had changed her, in so many ways. She wondered if she would ever find herself again.

She woke in a sweat most nights, and had nightmares at least once a night, but sometimes two or three times a night. She would roll over and go back to sleep, only to enter another nightmare, about the terrible fate of the Sons of Odin, and their curse upon Kismeria. Those memories and subsequent nightmares were her chains of regret, her rivers of sorrow.

Strangely the nightmares were never about life back home, always about this strange new land, of magic and elves and angels of great power. She missed having regular dreams and nightmares, about shopping disasters, or bad hair days, or choosing the wrong shade of lipstick when going out on a hot date. She missed going to the movies and daydreaming of one day becoming a big star. She missed her tiny apartment in the city, where her agent Anna had put her up, until she was making more money.

But most of all, she longed to see her family again, hear her mother's voice, see her father smile in that way he did when he kept silent, but said so much with just his expression. She wanted to reach out and give them both a big hug, but she was a long way away from them now, alone in the darkness.

The sound of Terese's breathing was present, as always when she woke in the middle of the night. Terese didn't snore, but she sometimes made funny little wheezing noises, and slight grunts through her nostrils, that Jean hadn't told her about yet. She smiled as the former Hero of Will made a noise that reminded her of a piglet.

Then, she reached for the towel she kept on her pillow, for just such occasions, to wipe away the sweat that soaked her brow and cheeks. When she was dry, she put her legs out over the side of the bed and stood to dress herself, behind the folding screen.

She didn't light any of the lanterns, as she did not wish to wake Terese. Instead, she wielded a tiny ball of blue flame, that hovered in midair behind the screen, to give her enough light to find a red woollen coat and silk skirt. She wore white silk stockings, with crimson leather boots.

There was a breastplate to match the outfit, but she left it standing with the others on wooden racks. There would be no need for protection where she was going. Despite this, she took her bow, and belted on her sword. Terese had instructed her to keep her Battle Angels close at all times, and she understood the importance of those words, after the battle they faced, the first night they set out.

That was over six weeks ago now, and they had made their camp around the city of Charkel since that time, recruiting soldiers for their army, and bringing peace to the region that was infected by the threat of revolution. Charkel was where it started. It took nearly two weeks to reach the capital, where they faced an army almost equal in size to their own, mostly formed of mortal farmers and villagers, though there were thousands of immortals amongst them, wielders, Aldebrands, and even some Wood Kin and Archers from the Kingarin Forest.

The immortals were mostly Nordics. Charkel was a Nordic province with over twenty thousand immortal families spread throughout the region. Most were farmers though some were of noble blood. Most of the male farmers were also listed in the defence forces for Charkel.

It was a rude beginning to their quest. Facing a potential bloodbath against their own kin. Due to the Jinn-Magic that was infecting the minds of all male wielders, causing Alit'aren to go mad and destroy farms and even entire villages with Angel-Magic. The people were tired of it; they wished something to be done about it. So, the spread of revolution had begun, encouraged by the middle classes, and some nobility, who rallied these farmer armies and provided leadership to their cause.

Fortunately, there was no blood spilled on that day, after careful negotiations between the leaders of the two armies. Negotiations lasted four days in fact, in large pavilion-style tents set up in the centre of the battlefield. Jean had been present for most of those meetings. She clearly perceived that the four lords and six ladies, who led the army of Charkel, were stricken with fear and loathing, over the thought of facing the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor in battle.

They seemed more than willing to accept peace and to dedicate a portion of their forces to serve in King Tobin's army. They still managed to keep the discussion going for many days, through polite bickering over the terms of the new agreements. They were all mortals, the lords and ladies who represented the army of Charkel. Terese had mentioned this was no surprise. 'Nordic nobility would be too ashamed to face King Tobin and Queen Lydia,' Terese had stated. 'They undoubtedly admitted defeat when they saw our banners and the size of our forces. They would've trembled at the thought of making war against the King of the Nordics.'

So that first encounter had been an easy victory and order was returned to these lands. The search for mad Alit'aren throughout the region had been unsuccessful, despite the arrest of three mortal Seidr'tera who were causing mischief in a town close to the capital. Jinn-Magic had infected their minds to the extent that they could no longer be trusted to hold Angel-Magic, though they showed some signs of regret for their crimes once they were prevented from wielding teron and made prisoners in preparation for trial.

Charkel provided the wielders and soldiers to return those three Seidr'tera to Nordhel, though they would likely be held prisoners for some time before they were prevented from ever touching teron again.

Filing these thoughts away in her mind, Jean stepped out of her tent and into the warm night air. Four Aldebrands sat outside the tent flaps. Kenen, the dark-eyed one, raised a thick black brow inquisitively at her being out so late at night.

'I require no guard this evening,' she said. 'Watch over Lady Terese and see that she is not disturbed.' The tan skinned Torvellen grunted, and then returned to sharpening his knife, that looked more like a short sword. The other three were Nordics; they glanced up at her for a moment, and then returned their focus to the game of mohrthra'daeghal that two of them were playing. The third was watching the game with a look of slight amusement. Then deep laughter erupted from the watcher and the one who had just taken a very important piece out of action. The one who lost the piece – Zel was his name – glared with cold blue eyes, then his shoulders slumped as he released a deep groan.

Jean hoped all that noise didn't wake Terese. The woman would have her neck on a plate if she found Jean sneaking off in the middle of the night. But this wasn't the first time Jean had done this. It was in fact the seventh time she had disobeyed her oath to the woman. Drawing the dark hood of her velvet cloak up over her head to attempt a disguise, she made her way through the camp towards the servants' quarters. It took her the better part of a quarter hour to reach her destination.

The tent she was headed for glowed dimly in the moonlight, lit by a ball of blue flame that pulsed on and off like a strobe light. It was a signal, telling her that her lover was waiting within. She grinned and moved to stand in front of the tent flaps, where she made a ball of yellow flame dance above her right hand. At this signal, the tent flaps opened, and Adem thrust his head out wearing a wide grin on his muscular jaw. The yellow light that sparkled in his blue eyes went out when he pulled her towards him, into the tent.

Inside the tent, the strobe light still pulsed, until he adjusted the Light-Magic to make it a very dim pale blue ball that outlined their faces. She untied the strap to her bow case as he kissed her hard on the lips, then placed her bow down on the red-and-blue rug that covered the small space inside the tent.

They could stand with room above their heads inside the tent, though there was barely room to move two steps, with a double bed, a chest, and a desk taking up most of the space. She removed her cloak, and let it fall to the floor, as he worked at unbuckling her sword belt with more passionate kisses on her lips and neck.

His weapons were leaning against the side of the red quilted bed, his sword in its black scabbard, and his bow resting in its leather case. He wore the black high-collared woollen coat and dark trousers typical of an Alit'aren, knee-high brown leather boots with the Black Wolf and Red Lion sigil in gold-lined enamel on his left collar, the Blue Dragon on his right.

His Aldebrand cloak was hung across the only chair in the room, making the piece of furniture appear to be some sort of dark ghoul lurking in the shadows.

Her pulse was beginning to rise from his kisses. He made her heart flutter when he was so passionate and kind. His touch was so sensitive; he knew how to make her blush with only a soft kiss, and later, he would prove again how he had learnt to make her beg. In the space of a week, she had become his slave of passion, with him trying to be as romantic as possible in the beginning, and her making it clear she wanted action, not sentimental formalities.

She decided she would succumb to temptation after her experience in the Arch. Her head was filled with those memories of being Adem's lover, but she had never done more than kiss him in reality. That other world; or those other dimensions within the Arch; were reflections of Kismeria, glimpses of a world without the substance of the real world.

She decided she had to know the real memory of having spent the night in her lover's embrace. A faded reflection was unsatisfactory by comparison. Adem wasn't the first man she had bedded; she had slept with more than a few in her young adult years, but she kept that secret from him, fearing he would judge her for it.

She had not acted any worse than most girls her own age at the time, but Adem was strange about some things, like he was born a hundred years ago, or a thousand years – like he belonged more in a world like Kismeria than he did on Earth.

He started working with her coat buttons when she pulled back and stared at him pleadingly, both of them heaving for breath in the short break of coming up for air. He kissed her again, and for a while, she kissed him back, but a new thought had blossomed in her mind that made her pull away again.

'Do you expect this to continue, night after night?' she asked while wearing a scandalized expression.

'We can be married,' he said. 'Let's do it, tonight!'

'Terese will have a fit! Besides, we've discussed marriage, and I thought I made it clear that wasn't an option.'

'But I have to keep seeing you,' he said. 'I'm lost without you, Jean. Now that I've had you in my arms and I know the touch of your skin against my own.'

'Terese will learn of our secret meetings soon enough. When that happens, you'll realise this was just taking advantage of an opportunity. It can't be more than that, Adem, not now anyway. We have too much at stake to risk losing ourselves to lust.'

'It's love that I can feel for you, Jean, true love, not some half-baked emotion.'

'It had better be, Adem Highlander, for your sake.' She grinned at the last, and he stared at her with a confused frown. Then he smiled too, and he kissed her lightly on the forehead and they held each other in an embrace. After a time, he asked, 'Then why did you come to see me?'

'I thought I wanted to, again,' she said slowly, 'but it's passed. Now I want to end things, for now anyway. I can't keep a secret this big from Terese. She will never trust me again.'

'I understand. So, you won't come tomorrow night?'

'I will let you know when we can be together again. Until then, you'll just have to be patient.' She stood to gather her belongings after that, fastening the Fox Rohjor pin around her neck, after belting on her bow case and sword. She pulled the hood up over her face before stepping out of the tent.

When she looked back to wave farewell, she saw his eyes looked empty again; her sense of him through the kigare was that he was falling through endless flames, though his heart was ice.

She often wondered how he could be like that. He could suddenly change from such a warm loving man to such a cold heartless creature. She worried for him when she sensed those emotions in him. She worried for all men who could wield Angel-Magic but him more than any other.

'Did you accept your Healing-Magic this evening?' she asked as an afterthought, before lifting the tent door flaps.

'Of course,' he whispered. 'They never forget to send someone.'

'Good,' was all she said, and then she stepped out into the moonlight. As she made her way back through the servants' camp, she noticed more soldiers moving about than she would normally expect, and some Alit'aren swaggering with self-importance through the firelight.

It was rare for Alit'aren or Ael Tarael to enter this part of the camp unless there was a perceived danger of an attack. She was almost walking directly into the path of two mortal Alit'aren when she decided it would be wiser to be seen rather than appear to be trying to hide.

Removing her hood, she continued to approach the two men – dark-eyed Rodor and pale-haired Eli – they were young for Alit'aren, newly raised after passing through the Chameleon Arch at Rutheldor some three years past. They both had the look of boys to them really, though their burning gazes spoke of a crackling danger that could explode like a wagon full of fireworks. Jinn-Magic worked its evil in them all.

The two men appeared surprised when they recognised her in the moonlight, the moment after she removed her hood. Green-eyed Eli cocked his head to one side and Rodor stroked the right end of his moustache that was quite thick for his twenty-four years.

Both were of equal height with Adem, only slightly taller than herself; she straightened her spine to stare them down as Eli remarked, 'You should not be out wandering alone at night, Jean Fairsythe.'

'I wanted to take a stroll in the night air,' she said. 'There is no rule that says I cannot do so alone, within the confines of the camp.'

'Yes, but Terese Marheildon's orders,' Rodor said. 'You are to be watched at all times. Where are your Aldebrands?'

'I told you,' she snapped, 'I wished to spend some time alone. What are you two doing in the servants' camp? Why do I see Alit'aren and even some Ael Tarael wandering about?'

The two young men appeared taken aback by her tone, before Rodor answered, 'Scouts have reported seeing signs of vampires in the nearby fields and forests. Animals drained of blood with distinctive bite marks. Livestock mostly, and most victims were found several days ride from here, but the guard has been increased as a precaution. We were told to patrol this part of the camp to be sure there are wielders to protect the servants.' The man spoke as if he were defending himself, though Jean did not press him further; she had her own secrets to conceal.

'Very well,' she said. 'Go about your business.'

'We should escort you back to your tent,' Eli said. 'Lady Sapphire-Sword would skin us alive if she learnt that we let you—'

'You have your orders!' Jean commanded, cutting him off midsentence. 'Go back to your duties. Do not speak a word of this to anyone. Terese must not know of my ... late-night strolls. You never saw me, understood?'

The two men stood with jaws flapping for a few moments before Rodor pressed his fist to heart and said, 'You have my word, Daughter of Thor.' Eli then copied the man and also swore.

She grinned to herself as she turned and pulled the hood back over her head. It was nice to be in command for a change. However, the news of the threat of vampires made her move back to her tent with haste.

When she arrived at the door to her tent, she saw a golden light burning within, Terese's dark braid and perfect posture a silhouette against the striped canvas wall.

Terese is awake! she thought with a stab of guilt. She wasn't particularly afraid of the woman's temper these days, but she regretted having to face her when Jean had failed her in terms of honouring their agreement. Honour was everything to Terese.

The four Aldebrands were now standing to attention outside the door flaps, each with the look of a large cat that had been browbeaten by a more ferocious feline. So Terese took her temper out on them for letting Jean leave without telling her. It would be difficult to get past them from now on. They would surely alert the woman the moment Jean left unguarded, if they even allowed her to leave her tent without an escort. She decided it was wise that she had ended things with Adem tonight. It couldn't have continued after what she was about to endure.

'Lady Sapphire-Sword wishes to speak with you,' Kenen said through clenched teeth as she approached. As Captain Commander of Jean's personal guard, it was likely he was the one to bear the brunt of Terese's recent outbursts. 'Her orders were that you are to wait outside until you are called, Jean Fairsythe.'

'Am I to stand here and consider my fate?' Jean called through the tent wall, though Terese made no reply, the shadow of a quill feather bristling over the desk where the woman sat.

So, she stood for a good quarter hour, trying not to glare at the four men who had been blamed for her disappearance. Finally, Kenen admitted, 'Perhaps we were a bit too loud, and, well ... I think we woke her. Zel was making quite a comeback in the last round of mohrthra'daeghal, and we all got a bit excited for him. Except for Tad that is. We all had a bit of a wager on it; you see? So, then we—'

'I get the general drift of it, Kenen,' Jean said, followed by a deep sigh. Then she whispered, 'Does she know this is not the first time?'

'I know everything!' Terese snapped, her braid vanishing behind her silhouette as she turned to regard Jean through the tent wall. Jean often forgot how keen the woman's hearing was, as it was with all immortals. 'Send her in,' Terese said, after a pause where Jean heard the woman taking slow deep breaths, obviously trying to calm herself before exploding like a cannon.

Jean entered the tent, the light within cast by one large, square lantern standing atop the oak desk that was carved with foxes chasing plump chickens. Terese had salvaged the desk from piles of furniture and other gilded items that were gathered for a bonfire, one of the more disturbing practices emerging from revolution.

The farmer armies wanted to overthrow the monarchy, so they saw any signs of wealth or luxury as something to be burnt or gifted amongst the lower classes. Jean assumed the lords and ladies leading this revolution hadn't factored in such practices when they began. It was likely they despised seeing finely crafted furniture turned into firewood, or priceless works of art bartered for a crate of eggs or a handful of rabbit furs. Order was slowly being restored, however.

'You should've known I would catch you out, sooner or later,' Terese said, glancing up from the scroll she was writing on. Jean was unsure whether to ask if the letter was detailing Terese's newfound knowledge of her late-night strolls. 'You asked to be treated as an equal, rather than a pupil, so I give a little slack and you run wild. Why should I trust you again?' Her tone was surprisingly calm, though a fire burnt in those large dark eyes.

'It was only a few times—,' Jean began, before the former ghost cut her off with, 'Seven! Seven times you have broken your oath to me! Six out of seven of those nights you broke more than your oath, you broke the thin thread of trust I laid out for you.

'I'm certain you didn't bed him tonight as I've learnt your outings were a great deal longer every other night. Therefore, I surmise that the young fool has some stamina.' Jean began to blush. 'Regardless of this,' Terese continued, 'I feel you have left me without any other option, other than to punish you severely.

'As you have behaved more like a greedy child, rather than a strong-willed young woman, I feel the most fitting punishment is to take something away from you, like taking the rattle away from the baby.' She smiled at that last comment, looking mighty pleased with herself.

'I'm not sure I follow—,' Jean said. Terese spoke over her saying, 'I have decided I can no longer be your trainer. I will continue to act as your bodyguard, though your training with the sword will fall into the hands of ... another.' She smiled again at the last.

'Who will take over?'

'You will learn soon enough,' she said.

'Not one of the Aldebrands?'

'No, you will find this new trainer tougher than any Aldebrand,' that secret grin flashed again. 'Now I suggest you get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day for you. I have much planned.' Jean shrugged under that dark-eyed glare, turned to stride towards her cot, and began to undress.

'I hope it's not Martha?' Jean asked, as she leaned her Lukrorian Bow against the side dresser.

'You got it in one,' Terese replied, and when Jean spun about in shock to face her, the woman wore the look of a cat with a mouse in its claws. A cold shiver ran down Jean's spine; Martha Skongrarth was the Kismerian equivalent to a Viking warrior woman. She was in fact from one of the seaside clans whose ancestors had invaded Kismeria after travelling across the Great Sea, over three hundred years ago. So, she was a Viking! Taller than Jean by a head and shoulders, the woman was big boned and thick muscled. Although she didn't attain the title of Brenda, it was said there were few men who would dare to face her even with practice blades. Before the revolution, Martha had served as a Gate Captain for Charkel, now she was recruited in Tobin's army after being recommended by a number of the other local captains. Jean presumed she was recommended in an attempt to get her out of their territory. The woman had the temper of a charging bull, and that was on a good day.

'Break your oath to me again, and I shall find even more imaginative forms of punishment,' Terese said with an expression of controlled rage. 'Martha will be your trainer until I believe you have regained your honour.'

Blushing again, Jean made a half-curtsy, partial bow, with a bend to her knees and a tilt of her head. She then changed into her nightgown – a blue silk garment embroidered with white foxes – and climbed into bed to pull the blankets up over her head. 'Sleep well,' Terese said. Jean replied with a loud groan. Moments passed until the woman said, 'You should know his illness is progressing.' Jean pulled back the blankets and sat up in bed to stare at the other woman as she asked, 'What do you mean?'

***

Adem sat on the edge of the bed for some time after Jean left. He still slept in his own tent where Carl also still had a cot, though he always waited at least a half hour, before stepping out, just to avoid suspicion. Any servant who recognised Adem Highlander, leaving a tent moments after Jean Fairsythe, would start rumours that would result in the entire camp knowing of their secret meetings by lunch time the next day.

He sat alone with his thoughts, his pain springing up anew at Jean's rejection, his sense of falling through endless flames extended to his awareness of Arawn's silent brooding through the kigare. His Battle Angel always appeared to be descending into fire, his heart colder than a lump of ice. As usual Arawn offered no words of wisdom, nor any sympathy for Adem's plight.

The Angel of the Underworld seemed to consider love a wasted emotion. Indeed, emotion seemed wasted in the eyes of his Battle Angel. Arawn was a weapon, unbreakable, like cold hard steel, a raging torrent of destruction, like rivers of flame. The more Adem was joined to this warrior spirit through the kigare, the more he saw comparisons between his own psyche and that of the Great Angel.

Was it the Jinn-Magic infecting his mind, the Sickness, or the Darkness as the immortals called it? Or was it a part of that connection with this Angel of the Low Realm? Whatever the case, his concentration was failing; his training was suffering as a result, both with the sword and wielding Angel-Magic. He became agitated with people more often, snapping at Aldebrands, Alit'aren, even Carl and Wil at times. His two friends seemed the least offended by it though they seemed more cautious of his mood swings as the days progressed. This past week spent with Jean had eased some of his symptoms, though now he felt himself erupting inside like a volcano.

He rubbed his eyes and then his temples; headaches were also becoming a problem. That had been a major sign that his illness was progressing when he was on Earth. In those days, he would increase the dose to ease those symptoms. That was no longer an option of course.

Perhaps if he had known more about what was in his medication, he could get some Druids to brew up something for the infected men. Though a bad batch could possibly be deadly, he didn't know enough about that sort of thing to even try.

He decided more Healing-Magic was the sensible choice. He would have to seek out an Ael Tarael skilled in that practice. Lira had become somewhat of a recluse these past few weeks; every time he asked after her, she was reportedly busy with some other task that kept her from seeing to his treatment.

He wondered about that, had the woman seen something in him that frightened her enough to keep her distance whenever possible. And if so, was it a vision, or a Reading, or did she simply sense the nature of his illness, which was enough to intimidate her into hiding from his sight? She had some ability to see Jinn-Magic, or at least the illness that infected his mind before he learnt to wield Angel-Magic, though Orion and other close confidants insisted these were one and the same thing, Jinn-Magic and his illness.

He stood to belt on his sword and bow case, fastening the pin of his cloak around his neck. He pulled the hood up over his face before stepping out through the tent door, the globe of blue light vanishing as he stepped into the moonlight. There were walled tents all around the one he and Jean had used for their secret meetings. The signal lights would only have been visible to anyone awake in the surrounding tents.

As he stepped through the maze of right-angle laneways across muddy earth, he noticed Alit'aren and Ael Tarael moving about through the servants' camp. There were a lot more than he would have expected to see, dozens of them in small groups of two or three. Something was wrong; there must be a newly perceived danger.

Soldiers, Aldebrands, and Alit'aren sat around the golden firelight, some looking up to regard him with a suspicious glare if they did not recognise his hooded face. Those that did recognise him offered a wave, or even the occasional salute with fist to chest.

Seidr and Seidr'tera level wielders were also seen in small groups around the fires. It was only about one in the morning, still early for some though they would only get about five hours sleep. He wondered how they could cope with so little shut eye. Surely it increased their symptoms.

Surprisingly, he sensed little disrespect from the male wielders in regard to the Sons of Odin infecting teron with Jinn-Magic. Female wielders struggled to hide their contempt, though for the most part, male wielders seemed to accept their fate.

He worried about the future however, a future with thousands of mad wielders, potentially evil men who could level mountains when wielding in a chain of ten or more of similar strength to Adem. They could level entire cities with that much Angel-Magic.

What would this world look like after the Age of Chaos? Would any of the cities still stand? What of his immortal friends? Would they survive to see the next Age? How mad or evil would Orion and Tobin be, if they lived another thousand years with Jinn-Magic in their veins?

Adem was aware that both kings had avoided even touching Angel-Magic, since the first days that teron was infected.

That was wise, Adem thought, the King of the Nordics and the King of the Torvellen would be vital to lead the armies that fought the madmen who wreaked havoc upon the land.

Without Angel-Magic to aid them, they would become more like Aldebrands to Lydia and Elmira. Taking on the role of protector of a female wielder, their skill with the blade would be their one true power. It must have affected their pride to lose such abilities, wielding Angel-Magic to destroy with only a thought, and the ability to defend without weapons of steel. The two men were considered strong amongst male wielders of the day, too. To go so long without wielding the ecstasy of teron, would also be like losing a part of their soul. Sometimes he thought he could see that longing in their eyes.

Better that than the dark fire I see in the eyes of so many male wielders, he thought to himself, as he passed another gathering of Seidr and Seidr'tera.

The young men waved, all mortal boys of age sixteen or seventeen. Mortal wielders were usually raised much earlier than immortals. There was a perceived sense of urgency with mortals; most would be fully raised by their twenty-first year.

Apparently, some immortal wielders could remain Seidr or Seidr'tera for thirty years or more. Immortals received more thorough training with Angel-Magic during those years, though the mortal wielders were forged into weapons, using teron to tear demons apart with Destruction-Magic.

When he looked in the eyes of those young men, he saw fear, however. They were the eyes of frightened children, living in terror of one day becoming as evil as the creatures they were trained to destroy. He felt a stab of pain constricting his chest, and he couldn't ignore their fears. They were doomed because of him. He and his friends had caused the higher concentrations of Jinn-Magic. It was his fault that they would suffer. Yet they also looked at him as if he was their only hope of survival, and their last chance at salvation. He stumbled onwards with a heavy heart, brooding just like his Battle Angel, the two of them descending into endless circles of flames.

Chapter 17

A Spear of Fire

Carl sat at his writing desk, in the large tent he shared with Adem. Wil had been sleeping in another tent, with his new bride Hayley, ever since that night they were wed. With Adem's recent outings – obviously he was meeting with Jean in secret – Carl was left with peace and quiet to read over the scriptures he was assembling. He didn't like to go to sleep too early, and this newfound work kept him busy enough to forget his other troubles.

He adjusted the light of the lantern, that sat atop the heavy stained desk carved with lions. Mirrored lamps stood around the room, and moonlight poured through a thin sheet in the roof of the canvas. He worked with a quill and ink, writing passages of scripture that he had memorised from readings back home. Most days he would dictate to the scholars and scribes. They transferred the words to neatly cut square sheets of paper for assembling into a number of large books. He found that doing God's work here, in this land that he could only describe as Pagan, was a fulfilling task that rejuvenated his mind and soul.

He felt he needed that, as many months working with teron, and Jinn-Magic, was taking its toll on his state of mind. He tried to avoid touching Angel-Magic, though its allure was so strong, he found that he had to allow a trickling of teron to flow through his veins, at least once a day.

The only other times he used Angel-Magic was when he was creating more of those giant crosses, that glowed with a magic that he didn't quite understand yet. He continued to make them, however, as he felt it was a symbol of Christ that needed to be spread throughout the lands.

These people were barbaric in so many ways, like the Romans when they worshipped false gods. They were bloodthirsty and cruel; some even sacrificed animals in the ways of the old Pagans of Earth. He had to convert them to Christ's teachings; it was a duty he considered highest on his list of priorities.

Their hopes that he would lead their armies in the Ragnarök Battle, against their Jinn-Lord, seemed to be an expectation beyond his capabilities. He wished Adem would face that fact. Sure, he had great powers here in this world, the knowledge of a High Druid, the battle wits of a Captain General Commander, and the memories and talents of some of the greatest legends in the history of Kismeria. All gifted to him through his rebirth in the Chameleon Arch.

But he wasn't ready to lead armies, sure he had led an assault upon the demons that threatened to wipe out their army, but that was the memories of those dead men that filled his mind that told him what to do in that situation.

He himself was a man of peace, a pacifist, a kind-hearted soul, not a bloodthirsty warrior from some lost Age.

What if those memories failed him when he faced Fendinn in battle? What if he was forced to face the Heart of Evil with only his own mind as a resource? He would surely die. Why couldn't Adem see that? What would it take to convince him?

You will have me also, Son of Odin, boomed the deep voice of Math Mathonwy, through the kigare, to his mind. Carl glanced up from his work to stare at the spear of fire that leaned against the desk. The enchantment upon the spear itself was also a source of power that fed the Great Angel, something Carl had begun to study, in the hope of making more powerful weapons. He had already increased the strength of the crimson spear, formed of pure gold though it shone incandescent red.

He reached out to grasp the spear in his right hand, to better communicate with his Battle Angel. It was warm to the touch, but not burning hot like a coal, or metal dipped in fire.

I know you will always be there for me, my friend, Carl sent through the kigare. But are you strong enough to face Fendinn?

Silence followed, his sense of Math Mathonwy was that he was brooding in a cloud of flames. The Angel of the Underworld had done this for as long as Carl had been joined with him through the kigare, though he understood it was a new practice as a result of the increased levels of Jinn-Magic infecting male Angel-Magic. Fire-Magic had always been a strength amongst the Low Realm Angels, though the brooding in flames seemed to result from their inevitable descent into madness.

Will you still fight for me if you are so corrupted you become a spirit of evil? Carl asked as he gripped the glowing metal. There was a long pause as if his Battle Angel was contemplating the question, before Carl heard: I will serve you, always, Son of Odin. There was another pause, and then; But who will you fight for when Jinn-Magic has you in its grasp?

Carl shivered at the thought. He often wondered about that question. If he couldn't find a way to reverse the effects of Jinn-Magic, this world was doomed. There was no way they could save these people as the Prophecies promised they would, but they had surely begun the process of breaking them.

His senses suddenly became alert to Adem receiving Healing-Magic.

His sense of Adem through the kigare was faint compared to his sense of Wil, but with Jean added in the mix, his awareness of what Wil and Hayley, and obviously Adem and Jean had been up to these past six nights, was something he often struggled to block from his mind. Indeed, Wil and Hayley had been going at it every night since their wedding; the emotions that surged through his friend during those first nights made it easy for Carl to detect the same behaviour in Adem and Jean in the past week.

He had sensed those emotions rising in Adem and Jean earlier this evening, though it hadn't lasted long enough to have been anything more than a few passionate kisses. His sense of Adem was that he seemed very upset following that brief meeting, though the Healing-Magic seemed to balance him out.

After the Healing-Magic, Adem was fast approaching the tent. He was some distance away, though Carl was certain he was within the Ael Tarael camp. When Carl released his grip on the spear of fire, he noticed his sense of Adem faded significantly. He understood this was because his link to his friends was part of the kigare, that was shared by their Battle Angels.

Therefore, his sense of Adem increased when he focused his connection with Math Mathonwy, as his Battle Angel was closely connected to Arawn. However, he had never noted such a strong contrast between holding the spear and letting go. Perhaps their link through the kigare increased in strength also. He continued to read over his notes until Adem stepped through the tent flaps.

He looked up to face his friend, who wore a calm face that matched his current mood. The result of the Healing-Magic no doubt, because something still had him deeply disturbed. He burnt within that tainted mind of his, wreathed in flames. 'I take it things didn't go so well between you and Jean this evening?' Carl offered as much compassion as he could muster.

'I don't wish to discuss it,' was all Adem said, and then he sat on one of the high-backed cushioned chairs, to rest his feet on a small stool. He rubbed his temples, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply in that meditation way of his.

'How are your headaches these days?' Carl asked.

'Getting worse,' Adem said, while still rubbing his temples. 'Some days I would stay in bed if not for the Healing-Magic. It removes them for a time, though tonight even Healing-Magic isn't enough to stop this pain in my skull. Are you suffering from the same?'

'Headaches aren't a problem for me, yet,' Carl admitted. 'Do you think if you controlled your mood a little better, the headaches might dissipate?'

'What's wrong with my mood?' Adem asked, opening one eye. He was still calm however, normally a question like that would have unsettled him.

'You are lashing out at people all the time now, Adem. I think you're losing control of your temper to say the least. I know you're under a lot of pressure, we all are. But it seems to be a sign of ... well, madness.'

Adem opened both eyes, lowering his hands to rest them on the arms of the chair. His brow was furrowed, he looked cross for a moment, and then he broke into a silent chuckle, his body shaking from the force of his amusement. Suddenly, the laughter became signs of pain; he trembled until he lowered his head and gave a deep whining sigh.

When he finished this display, he stared Carl in the eyes and said, 'I'm a long way from mad yet, old friend.' His mood was calm again, both his facial expression and what Carl could sense of him. Moments before Carl had sensed a whirlwind of emotions flooding his friend's mind and soul, an intense high cascading into a terrible low.

'I'm concerned about you, Adem. You insist that we must stay here and fight for this lost cause, but each day I see you becoming more dangerous to be around. What if you lose all memory of your true self? Will you still expect me to trust you?' The man's eyes took on an inward gaze, as if he were hearing voices inside his mind. Carl hoped it was only Arawn speaking to him through the kigare. As far as he knew, hearing voices had never been a part of Adem's illness.

Carl had admitted hearing screams of men and women in the palace of Nordhel, late at night, which none of his immortal guards ever heard, so it must have been a sign that Carl too was descending into madness. Perhaps the effects of Jinn-Magic would be different for all of them. He hadn't heard any voices since he began his daily Healing-Magic, however.

Finally, Adem asked, 'What would you have me do, give up holding Angel-Magic? Even you can't resist the temptation to reach for teron at least once a day. You do it when I am far away, in the hope that I will not know, but I sense it through the kigare, the emotions that flood your mind when you hold lightning in your veins.'

'You told me we have a duty, Adem, an obligation to serve the people. If we are to fight more battles, I must increase my ability to wield. Do not accuse me of having some kind of addiction to the bliss of teron. Jinn-Magic is a molten filth that turns my stomach. If I could avoid touching it ever again, I would make it so. But you are the one who insists that we must stay and make war with the Jinn-Lord. This is not my fight, Adem Highlander.'

A crack of thunder broke the air, and then twin bolts of lightning flared in the distance, the pale blue glow transparent through the roof and wall of the tent.

Carl didn't need to know the skies were clear of clouds to be certain the lightning had been cast by female wielders. Something was attacking the camp.

Adem leapt to his feet and reached for his bow. 'It must be vampires!' he shouted. More lightning flared through the wall of the tent, on both sides this time; the enemy must be trying to infiltrate the main camp.

That meant they were not the newly turned scavenger vampires who were formally servants and soldiers in Tobin's army. It was most likely these Nightwalkers were under the command of Tairark Vampire-King.

Carl was belting on his bow case when a grim-faced Aldebrand entered the tent to report the attack. The Torvellen was formerly one of Orion's personal bodyguards, though he had been chosen as one of Carl's tent guards this past month.

Kole was his name; he wore the dark coat and armour typical of most Wolf Rohjor Aldebrands. 'The attack seems small,' Kole said, 'and unorganised. We suspect they are aimed at the Saviours however.'

'I have to get to Jean.' Adem said, and then he charged out of the tent before Carl could try to stop him. He reached for his spear as he said to Kole, 'Follow me.'

One of the other Aldebrands, who watched Carl's tent, was waiting outside when he stepped into the moonlight. Carl began to move through the laneways of tents with haste, the two Aldebrands flanking him a pace behind on either side.

Shouts of soldiers were heard in the distance, the clash of steel, and the occasional flare of lightning in the sky. Men and women sometimes rushed by through the laneways ahead of them. Most were Ael Tarael and Aldebrands, though some were terrified servants, or soldiers in breastplates, brandishing spears or swords.

The moon was near full tonight, though Carl didn't glance up once to see if any vampires were circling the skies above him. He left that up to his Aldebrands. Both of them held their enchanted bows with arrows of coloured flame.

He was focused on the path before him, taking long strides and using his spear like a walking staff. His grip on the spear increased his sense of Wil through the kigare. His friend was in serious pain, not physical but emotional pain, deep anguish. Something was terribly wrong.

When he arrived at Wil and Hayley's tent – a red and white striped wall construct with a golden light within – twelve Aldebrands stood around the door to the tent. They appeared to be crowding around something.

When Carl approached, they parted to reveal four Aldebrands lying with their throats ripped out. The bodies of men in breastplates or leather jerkins were also scattered about, their decapitated heads revealing the dark seed-like eyes of vampires.

He stepped into the tent to see Wil crouched beside the bed, where Hayley lay with her eyes closed. She looked very pale and very still. A man lay on the floor, his head separated from his body. Wil's axe had obviously seen to that. The bearded face also bore the black vampire eyes and long white fangs. A pool of blood soaked the colourful rug that covered that part of the floor.

A large hole in the back of the tent revealed where the intruder had entered.

It was only when Carl moved to stand next to his friend, that he saw the twin bite marks in the side of his wife's neck. A terrible pain gripped Wil's heart, a deep sorrow that he shared with Carl through their spiritual connection.

'Oh, Wil, I'm so sorry—' Carl began, before Wil said, 'You can cure her, can't you? You know things, Carl. Things none of these wielders have ever thought of doing with Angel-Magic. You can find a way. You can save her, right?'

'Wil, I don't know how to save her.'

'You can try!' Wil screamed. 'You can try for me! You can try for her! Do something, please, save her! Pleeease!' Wil's head fell on to her waist, his hand clutching hers. He began to make deep sobbing sounds, a man in pain beyond imagining. Carl understood then that this attack had been aimed at Wil. Aimed at what his heart cared for most. The enemy was trying to break the Sons of Odin from within their core. And then it hit him.

'Oh my God, Wil, I have to go! They're probably going after Jean too!' He turned and began to make his way to the door of the tent when Wil called, 'Promise me you'll come back and try to help my wife! Carl? You promise me!'

Carl turned to face his friend. Tears were streaming down Wil's face, his eyes red and puffy. He looked completely lost.

'I'll come back, Wil. I'll try something, I promise.' Wi's expression was suddenly filled with hope. He turned back to Hayley, stroking her hand and whispering in her ear. Carl leapt through the tent door and pushed past the Aldebrands to charge off into the night.

***

Adem moved through the night with speed and stealth. His footfalls were almost silent despite the fact that he was practically sprinting. Lightning flashed in the sky as he ran past campfires and through laneways of tents. He cursed the fact that Terese had insisted Jean's tent be pitched so far away from his own.

His bow was gripped in his right hand though he hadn't stopped to use it once so far, although he had seen several opportunities to shoot down vampires from the night sky.

He ran with desperation; a number of times he saw vampires feeding on servants or soldiers, but they were not Jean; they were not his heart, so he kept running. There was nothing he could do for them anyway. Once they were bitten, they would either die or become vampires. Healing-Magic could save some from death, but they were still infected with the curse.

He couldn't waste a moment to save another life when Jean's was in danger. His sense of her through the kigare was that she was focused, slightly frightened but more alarmed.

So not in pain or immediate danger, he thought, as he ran on through a laneway of tents. Arawn told him Jean hadn't summoned either of her Battle Angels yet, which suggested Terese had things under control. He heard a woman's scream. He slowed to a stop, and he turned to see a dark-bearded man with vampire fangs, forcing himself down on top of a young servant girl. Guilt mad him decide to save the poor woman, as he drew back on the string of his Lukrorian Bow. A shaft of brilliant blue light appeared. He released, and the arrow struck the skull of the vampire, blue sparks flying as his hair caught fire.

The vampire screamed and rolled off the woman, slapping his head in an attempt to put out the flames. Then the man leapt to his feet, hair still burning blue, when Adem released another blue arrow that blasted the man's armour, burning through the iron plate. He fell, clutching the gaping blue hole in his chest, but that wasn't enough to kill him.

As the woman stood and stumbled towards Adem while screaming frantically, he drew back on the string again, drawing heavy levels of teron into the shaft of flames, then released. The arrow struck the man's forehead and his skull exploded like a ripe melon under a sledgehammer. He could have achieved this with the first arrow, but he didn't want any vampire blood falling into the mouth of the screaming woman.

The woman reached him and clawed at his coat, falling to her knees with tears streaming down her face. He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. 'You have to run fast, or I'll have to leave you behind,' he told her.

She had stopped screaming when she reached him, and she nodded with a calmer expression. He started to run, and she soon showed she could keep up no matter how fast he ran. It was desperation that fuelled him. He guessed her motivation was terror. They ran on through the laneways of tents and past campfires though he saw no one to take over guarding this young woman, so he kept onwards towards Jean's tent.

He was still holding the woman's hand when he saw Jean standing outside the front of her tent, with Terese at her side. Jean turned to regard him fast approaching, while holding hands with this dark-haired servant girl.

Jean and Terese both raised an eyebrow in that calculating way women did when they were judging you. He tried to let go of the woman's hand, but she gripped it hard even after they stopped running, and they were both heaving for breath.

'I see you've made a new friend,' Jean said with a sour pout to her lips. The servant girl smiled and said, 'Forgive me, Daughter of Thor. I meant no offense. Adem saved my life, that's all. And I was so frightened I held his hand the entire time we ran. I didn't want to let go.'

'Yes, I see that,' Jean said with a jealous stare. 'What is your name, girl?'

'Belsy is my name, Belsy Dalori.'

'You are a pretty young thing,' Jean said with a sudden smirk. 'Adem's heart must have leapt at the chance to save such a pretty face.'

The way she said that was cold and mirthless. Adem then looked around to see five vampire men slain at the feet of the Aldebrands, who stood in front of the tent door.

'Are you all right, Jean?' he asked. She gave him a hurt look before she said, 'It seems they wanted me dead or to become one of them. Luckily, Terese was still awake when one of them cut a hole through the back of our tent.'

She stood with her arms crossed under her breasts, in a blue silk coat and skirt, red woollen stockings, and blue knee-high boots. Her golden hair was perfectly neat and braided, identical to Terese's thick dark braid. The immortal woman wore a long green coat: tight dark trousers, with knee-high brown leather boots. She stood staring at Adem as if he should say something to soothe Jean's hurt feelings.

'Jean, I came for you as soon as I knew we were under attack. I sensed you weren't in any great danger, and then I saw this young woman with a man on top of her, and I—'

'You did what you had to, Adem,' Jean said with a casual wave. 'I expect nothing more from you.' Then she turned and marched back towards her tent. He moved to follow her, but Belsy still gripped his hand. He pulled away from the girl, and she gave him a hurt look.

He took two steps to follow Jean to her tent when Terese was suddenly stepping into his path. 'Leave her!' the woman snapped. 'You have done enough already! Did you think I wouldn't find out about the two of you and your secret meetings?'

Adem took a step back, and Terese stepped in to stand face to face with him. She raised a finger under his nose as she said, 'I warned you, Adem Highlander. I told you not to toy with her emotions. But you did exactly that! Now I have to punish her for your selfish acts!

'If you were any other man, I would cut you down where you stand.' That last was spoken through clenched teeth. 'We have everything under control here, as you can see. Why don't you take young Belsy here for a nice roll in the hay, eh?' With a satisfied grin, she spun on her heel and stalked away. He released a deep sigh before Belsy said, 'I'm sorry that I made trouble for you, Adem.'

'It's not your fault, Belsy.' He then called one of the Aldebrands to take the girl back to her camp. The attack appeared to be over. If they had only been after Jean, their attempt was foiled. He slung his bow back in the case that hung under his cloak. He was not going to leave until Jean was safe.

He gripped his sword to draw the blade when he was struck by a sense of immense pain ... It was coming from Wil! Something terrible had happened! He turned to make his way towards his friend's tent, when he saw Carl's red spear glowing in the shadows. They ran towards one another and when they met, Carl shouted, 'Is Jean all right?'

'She's fine,' Adem said. 'Why? What happened to Wil?'

'It's not Wil,' Carl said, with a face like thunder. 'It's his wife!'

***

Wil knelt beside his wife, for what seemed an eternity, as he waited for Carl to return. He whispered to Hayley the entire time, 'Carl can save you, my darling. He will save you.' She had passed in and out of consciousness a number of times, her eyes fluttering open; then closing again.

Each time she looked at him, he saw dread in her eyes. She knew she was cursed. She knew it meant she would be hunted like an animal. But he would not let her become another Nightwalker, something to be feared and hated. He would protect her; he could keep her safe. Even if he had to leave Tobin's army, they could go away together, and live their lives in peace, hiding from the world. He struggled to control his weeping as he waited, deep sobs erupting from his throat each time he lost hope.

Finally, he sensed Carl approaching, and Adem was with him. His sense of Adem was that he felt Wil's pain too, they both did. 'Carl is on his way, my darling. He will save you. I promise!'

When his friends entered the tent, he looked up at Carl with a desperate pleading. 'You will try something, won't you? You said you would. You promised.' Carl moved to kneel beside Wil, leaning the red spear against the bedpost.

Adem stood further back with his arms crossed over his chest. He offered no words of sympathy, though he looked deeply concerned. Adem wasn't one for words at times like these. He was cold, emotionless, like his Angel of the Underworld.

For the first time, Wil understood Adem's pain though. He understood that emotion of falling through fire; that he sensed in the man so often of late.

Without Hayley, Wil would become filled with more sadness and hatred than his own Battle Angel. Dis Pater offered no words of wisdom or sympathy through the kigare. He too was heartless and cold.

Carl placed his right hand on Hayley's forehead, closed his eyes, and began what must have been the Searching-Magic, to determine the nature of her illness and how to cure her. Some time passed before Carl said, 'I cannot cure the infection, but I can alter its affects.'

'You can make her well again?' Wil asked.

'I can make it appear that she isn't infected,' Carl explained. 'She will be warm blooded. She will be able to walk in daylight. Other vampires will know what she is, but she will be stronger than they are, faster too. She may gain other gifts as she begins to feed, but she will not crave human blood. Goat or sheep blood should keep her healthy. We will have the servants supply it from the animals they slaughter for eating. It's the best I can do, Wil. Perhaps this way she won't appear as a threat, and she can remain your wife.'

'Do it, Carl,' Wil said. 'I'll accept anything to keep her by my side.' Carl then placed his left hand on her brow and clasped his right fist around the burning spear. The red light of the shaft became brighter when he closed his eyes and began to concentrate. There were no chanting words or incantations; he just wielded spells of teron, crafting them as they entered her body.

Wil could sense that it took relatively small amounts of Angel-Magic to complete the operation. Hayley lay completely still the entire time, her eyes fluttering occasionally though they did not open. He guessed Carl had to touch the spear to gain some assistance from Math Mathonwy.

Though Wil assumed the spell was something Carl had learnt through his experiences inside the Chameleon Arch. His sudden jump in knowledge of Angel-Magic was so extreme it had to be a result of his rebirth. Wil had also changed dramatically from that experience, though all the memories of those ancient warriors did not give him enough courage to face life without Hayley.

Most of those immortal men had died in battle, all of them regretting their lost love at the end. If Hayley died from this, Wil would not rest until he destroyed Tairark Vampire-King and every last creature that served him. He vowed to avenge her even if she did survive. She was so young, so innocent, and now she was doomed to carry a curse in her veins.

Finally, Carl released his grip on the spear, the light fading to a duller red, and he removed his hand from her brow as her eyes fluttered again, then opened.

'Is she well?' Wil asked.

'She is better,' Carl said, 'better than any other of her kind. You must keep her well fed, Wil. She will no longer crave normal food. She can drink water or wine, but it will do her no good. You know what she needs to survive. She needs to feed immediately. This alteration spell has sped up the turning process. She is already one of them.'

'I'll have someone gather some blood,' Adem said. His cold blue eyes appeared pained, though his voice was void of emotion. When he left the tent, Wil looked at Hayley and said, 'You're going to be all right, my sweetheart. Everything will be fine, I promise.' Carl leaned on his spear to get to his feet; then he paced towards an armchair with red cushions.

'I'll stay until I'm certain she'll recover,' Carl said, after he sat.

'I won't forget this,' Wil said. 'Thank you, my friend.'

'It's nothing,' Carl said. 'It's the least I can do.' Wil turned back to Hayley; her dark eyes looked calm now, peaceful, though after a time her brow became furrowed.

'I'm so thirsty, Wil,' she said, sounding weak.

'We'll get you something to drink, my darling,' Wil said, and then he turned to Carl to ask, 'Couldn't you have wielded Healing-Magic on her too?'

'She must drink to recover completely,' Carl replied. They waited in silence after that until Adem returned with a servant girl carrying a bronze goblet and pitcher. The girl looked very nervous as she moved towards the bed.

While the young woman was setting the tray down on a table next to the bed, Orion and Tobin entered the tent, both in black coats and trousers under their shadow cloaks. The two Immortal Kings wore grim expressions as they moved to stand a few paces from the bed.

'You may leave us now, Belsy,' Adem said to the servant girl, who gave an adequate curtsy and hurried from the tent. She had already poured a goblet full of the dark liquid which Wil was holding up to Hayley's lips, after helping her to sit upright, with pillows for support.

Hayley sipped at first, and then took a gulp, then her eyes widened, as she clutched the goblet with both hands and emptied the contents down her throat. When she released the goblet, Wil saw her little white fangs soaked in blood.

'How do you feel, my love?' he asked her, as he watched her bite marks instantly repair to smooth skin.

'Much better, thank you,' Hayley replied. She wiped the edge of the goblet and then sucked that finger for the remaining drops.

'This will not do,' Tobin said. 'Do you expect to keep her alive?'

'Carl has altered the infection,' Wil said, 'and yes, she is my wife. I'll murder any man who tries to harm her. She will not crave human blood. She can walk in daylight, and she will have other gifts. I'm not thrilled with the situation, but perhaps it will be harder now for the enemy to make her a target.'

'Her bite won't be contagious either,' Carl explained. 'She didn't have to die to become one of them, and she will remain mostly human, with a human soul.'

'You must explain this process to us, Carl Wilder,' Orion said. 'If all this is true, it may lead to an actual cure for the vampire disease. We will begin to teach the spells to Alit'aren and Ael Tarael, and we will make records of these spells.'

'That is something I wanted to discuss with you all, now that we are here,' Carl said, with one hand holding the spear beside the chair. 'These past few weeks, as you all know, over a dozen Aldebrands have turned assassin against their own kin. The only explanation for this was that Jinn-Magic had turned them mad, or perhaps even evil. Four Alit'aren have been imprisoned and are awaiting trial at Nordhel. Alit'aren who began screaming like madmen and unleashing waves of Angel-Magic, that killed over thirty soldiers and twice as many servants.'

'We know this, Carl Wilder,' Tobin said. 'It is the Jinn-Magic within teron. It drives them all to madness. What is your point?'

'That is my point exactly, King Tobin,' Carl replied. 'Jinn-Magic drives them all mad. In the case of Aldebrands, it is their Lukrorian Bows that causes their illness. If we took away these enchanted bows and replaced them with normal bows and normal arrows—'

'We cannot face the Dark Armies without our Lukrorian Bows!' Tobin shouted. 'Our Aldebrands become useless without them!'

'They are still expert archers,' Carl said. 'They will just have a limited supply of arrows. They are also still Agnars, perfectly suited to guarding Ael Tarael. The Aldebrands will have a new role from now on. Most will serve the Ael Tarael as personal bodyguards, and they will remain in this role for life. A war is coming between Alit'aren and Ael Tarael, and the Ael Tarael must win that war if Kismeria is to survive.'

The two kings' faces were grim indeed. Wil listened intently while holding on to Hayley's left hand. She was lying down again, her expression intent on what Carl was saying. Adem's expression was also focused, though Wil's sense of him through the kigare was that he was in conflict with Carl's ideas.

'Yes, but ... what will we do with the Lukrorian Bows?' Tobin asked. 'Would you have us throw them into the sea?'

'Give them to the female wielders,' Carl said. 'There are enough minor wielders amongst the immortals to take the bows and put them to good use. A declaration must be written that outlaws any Aldebrand to wield a Lukrorian Bow from this day forth. Those that disobey will be arrested and sent for trial. Those found guilty of breaking the new law will have their ability to wield removed.'

'But that is a death sentence,' Orion pleaded. 'We rely too heavily on the Aldebrands to enforce such a law.'

'The law shall be the same for all Alit'aren,' Carl interjected, 'as all male wielders shall be ordered to never touch teron again, from this day forward.' That brought grunts from both kings and a pained groan from Adem. Wil just stared at Carl in amazement.

'That would cripple our forces,' Orion said in disgust, 'and the Alit'aren will not accept this.'

'You are two of the four Immortal Kings,' Carl said. 'You must write the declaration and have the order sent to the King of the Dremelden and the King of the Ruhalden. The order must be sent to all corners of the Free Lands, so that this law is enforced across the entire continent. If we don't make this move now, I fear we will face more deaths than this world can recover from.'

'Will this law extend to the Sons of Odin?' Tobin asked.

'My Brothers and I will need to wield teron, to defeat the Jinn-Lord,' Carl said. 'That much is a certainty. Though, we must limit our use of Angel-Magic to avoid falling into madness. There is no way to enforce or restrict the amount each of us holds or wields at any given time, because punishing us by restricting our resources could make us easier targets for our enemies. However, I vow to only hold teron for one hour ... once a week.'

'Well, I will not agree to that last part,' Adem said.

'Then the day may come when I am forced to hunt you down, old friend,' Carl said with a frown. Adem glared at him in extreme anger, before he turned and marched out of the tent in a huff.

'You must write the declaration immediately,' Carl instructed. 'Have copies sent to the other rulers tonight and spread the word amongst the men in the camp. If the Alit'aren don't like it, they can leave. It will be the beginning of this inevitable war that will surely destroy you all.' The two kings stared at Carl with arms crossed over their chests for some time, before they also left in foul moods.

Carl remained in that chair for another hour and a half after that. He kept watch over Hayley as the changes set in. He said she was still in a fragile state, and he didn't want to leave her if there was something more he could do. It must have been nearly two hours after Adem, and the kings had left, that lightning flared in the night sky, roaring thunder and dozens of thick blue bolts falling in the distance.

Wil sensed that it was from male wielders. An Aldebrand entered the tent to stand and salute about a quarter hour after, the lightning had ceased moments before. The Aldebrand wore Wolf Rohjor armour with a regular wooden bow sticking up above his right shoulder.

'The Alit'aren have started a rebellion,' the man said, sounding like it was just another day on the job. 'Most were unhappy about the new laws. They left with a large number of Aldebrands, claiming they would form their own city where the laws did not stand. There was some effort to contain them by the Ael Tarael who were nearby. The Alit'aren tied some of the women up in Air-Magic, the rest ... were murdered. The Alit'aren were also able to convince more than half the Aesir'Eron and Seidr'tera to follow them.'

'And what is your name, Aldebrand?' Carl asked.

'Lendel Alduri,' the angular jawed Torvellen replied.

'You choose to remain loyal to your king, Lendel?' Carl asked.

'I remain loyal to the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor,' Lendel said, with fist pressed to heart.

'What of Adem?' Carl asked.

'Adem Highlander remains in his tent. He was seen speaking to several Alit'aren before the uprising, however. There is a suspicion that he influenced their decision.' The man then turned to exit the tent.

Wil looked to Carl with concern as he asked, 'Should we do something?'

'Leave them to handle it themselves,' Carl said with a wave of his hand. 'Though what has begun tonight will return to haunt us. Tomorrow will be the dawning of the Age of Chaos.'

Lightning flared, thunder roared, and then silence. After a time of apparent deep contemplation, when Hayley had drifted back to sleep, Carl said, 'There is one other thing.'

'What is it?' Wil asked.

'Your wife ... she is pregnant.'

Chapter 18

A Dark Princess

Wil stayed at his wife's bedside the entire night. She drifted in and out of sleep, occasionally moaning, twitching, and bearing her fangs. Carl said it was the changes setting in. By first light, Carl decided she would survive, and he left to return to his own tent to get some rest. His friend had remained awake the entire night also, his concern for Hayley as apparent as if it were his own wife he was caring for.

Carl must have been blaming himself for the deaths of those Ael Tarael, who tried to stop the Alit'aren from leaving. He was the one who ordered the new laws, so he would no doubt see it as his fault entirely.

The light appeared to disturb Hayley when she woke, though Carl had explained that this would also pass in time. She looked healthier now, a pink glow to her cheeks, and a glossy shine to her dark hair. He gave her another goblet full of the sheep's blood, that she sipped this time while sitting up in bed with a sly look in her eyes.

'So, you decided to spare my life, dear husband,' she said with a grin, after wiping her lips.

'How do you feel?' he asked her.

'I feel different,' she replied with a look of wonder. 'I feel like I could run all day and never get sore or tired. But I also feel sadness, regret, that I will never live a normal life again. I guess it was my fate, Wil Martyr, as much my own destiny as it was to be your wife.

'Perhaps I will survive long enough to await your return. I will be lonely without you, but I will find ways to keep my mind distracted from the loss of you.'

That was something Wil had already discussed with Hayley many times since their marriage, the fact that the Sons of Odin were supposed to leave Kismeria for over a thousand years, before the Second Arrival. Hayley had been mortal until now, and although the Ael Tarael said she had some ability to learn to wield terael, the small amount she could draw would not have preserved her for much longer than her natural lifetime. Now there was a chance that she would survive and wait for his return. It filled him with hope, but he also felt a deep sadness that it took a curse to create this miracle.

'I will not leave you,' he told her.

'Dear husband, you simply must,' she said in a lecturing tone. 'For you are the one who will grow old and die if you remain in Kismeria, and you shall never see the Ragnarök Battle, where it is your destiny to fight beside your Brothers.'

'I can't bear the thought of leaving you alone for that long,' he said, as he brushed her cheek.

'I will be fine,' Hayley said. 'It is our only chance of seeing each other again.' He put both arms around her waist then; she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him gently. He started to kiss her lips and felt the light stabbing of her little fangs against his skin, but he didn't pull away. This was how it was supposed to be.

She was his wife, his dark princess.

The same servant girl, Belsy, brought another pitcher of blood and a tray of breads and fruits for breakfast. Wil didn't try to entice Hayley to even taste the food, though she drank two goblets full of the sheep's blood. Carl said her thirst would lessen as the days progressed. For now, she needed to build her strength. After breakfast, Wil donned his black coat and trousers with knee-high brown leather boots. He wore the sigils of the Sons of Odin on his collar like Adem and Carl.

The people who followed them expected them to wear those symbols of power. He had spent the evening still in his sleeping trousers and a white shirt that he replaced with a black silk one when he dressed in the morning. He had kept his axe of golden light close the entire night in case of another attack. He slipped the enchanted weapon into his belt loop, after strapping on his bow case. It was a warm spring day, so he didn't bother to bring his cloak. Hayley wore a green silk dress, so dark it appeared black, with silver patterns like birds and fish around the low-cut neckline, that exposed her ample bosom. She left her hair falling around her face rather than tying it into her usual braid. She looked beautiful, though his heart ached over what had been done to her.

'I thought we'd take a stroll through the city,' he said when they left the tent. She wore high-heeled red-leather hiking boots under the divided skirts, which he had suggested for her. Six Aldebrands followed them as they made their way through camp, rather than the usual four.

He assumed Tobin or Orion had ordered the extra two bodyguards. Lendel was one of them, and all wore dark armour and coats except for one who wore a crimson breastplate. They all carried normal wooden bows now, which prompted Wil to ask Lendel, 'What became of your Lukrorian Bow?'

'It was added to the piles to be given to female wielders,' Lendel replied.

'I want you to collect one for me and store it in my tent,' Wil said. 'And have someone patch up that hole the intruder made.' The slain vampire had been removed during the night, while Wil waited for Carl to return, to perform the spell upon Hayley.

The carpet was still heavily bloodstained, however. 'Tell King Tobin I'd like a new rug too, thank you. And find an ornate bow case, for my lovely wife.' Lendel saluted and then moved off into the crowds. Hayley raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, as they moved on, before he said, 'If I can give you unlimited arrows of flame, my mind will rest a lot easier when we are apart. Perhaps you should learn to use a sword too. I'll have a talk with Terese.'

***

It took over an hour to reach the outer gates of Charkel. The city was surrounded by fifty-feet-high grey stone walls with watch towers spread around the diamond-shaped defences. Soldiers marched along the tops of the walls armed with crossbows. Hundreds of people swarmed around the huge raised portcullis and tunnel, where carts and wagons were given right of way. Inside the walls, more soldiers marched with spears or swords at their hips, wearing armour of bronze or iron or steel. They had to give their names to the Gate Captain who scrawled them down on rolled parchment, the man regarded Wil with awe when he gave his name.

'You honour us, Son of Odin,' the man said. 'My name is Kelsid Torbros. Give my name at the markets for a discount on anything you desire.' Wil thanked Kelsid, and Hayley gave him a grin that made the man's grey moustache bristle. He must have noticed her fangs though he made no comment.

The market square was spread along the Merchant Road, that was the wide stone-paved strip that ran from the inner gate to the heart of the city. Stalls on wooden tables and cloth-covered boxes lined both sides of the street, with animal pens further back, selling every kind of farm animal imaginable. The front rows sold anything from weapons, jewellery, and home decor, to books, clothing, and even artefacts from past Ages.

He started by buying Hayley a gold necklace with a decent-sized ruby. He had plenty of gold given to him as one of the Chosen. The necklace cost more than he had hoped however, taking more than three quarters of his coin. The plump old woman who sold her the necklace seemed very pleased with the deal, though he didn't care about the cost. He just worried he might not have enough to buy her a sword, and the real reason he was there.

They looked at swords at seven blacksmith stalls, finally choosing one in a crimson scabbard, worked with golden stars. Seven five-pointed stars also covered the steel blade, that the blacksmith insisted was enchanted with terael. Hayley still could not sense enchantments, and he couldn't sense the female half of Angel-Magic, so he asked an Ael Tarael he saw standing nearby if she could test the blade.

When the Ael Tarael held the sword, it began to glow red, and she assured him it was a demon-slaying blade. 'From the past Age,' the woman said – Febrise Lanto was her name. Febrise then helped them argue a better price for the sword, despite Wil giving his own name and the Gate Captain's. He found he still had enough coin to get what he was really after too.

They strolled around the animal pens for some time. They looked at pigs, sheep, ducks, and geese, including lambs and ducklings, but meat or blood was not what Wil was after. Finally, they arrived at a pen that had puppies. That was his first idea, and he was about to buy two of the cute brown pups when he heard the barks of two adult versions. The dogs were large enough to be small ponies, brown furred with large dark eyes. They were the mother and father.

'How much do you want for those two?' he asked the owner, as he pointed to the adult dogs.

The grey bearded man's round belly shook with laughter, before he waved a hand and said, 'They only answer to me.'

'If I can make them come to me, and sit, with only a wave and the command, will you give me a decent price for them?' Wil asked, to which the man replied, 'If you can make them sit, I'll give them to you for free!' Then he burst into laughter again. Wil grinned and was about to summon them with his new gift of speaking to animals, when Hayley whistled, and the two dogs charged towards her to stop and sit at her feet. Wil tried to hide his shock, as Hayley patted the male, and scratched the female behind the ears. It was then that the man noticed Hayley's teeth. His eyes widened, and he went pale as he waved a fist and said, 'You tricked me! She's a—'

'I'll pay you for them if you keep your voice down,' Wil said, cutting the man off before he named her in front of everyone.

'My price will be high,' the man said, with a nervous expression. Wil tossed the man the leather purse with the remaining gold and silver in it.

'I'll give you three times that tomorrow if you keep this to yourself,' he said in a reasoning tone. 'But I take the dogs with me now. Do we have a deal?'

The man agreed, though Wil suspected his reasoning was that it was better not to get on the bad side of a vampire that can walk in daylight. Of course, he would be able to afford dozens more pairs of breeding dogs like these with the gold he was promised. His nervous expression changed to a pleased grin when he emptied the coins on the table and started to inspect their markings.

'Good day to you, good sir.' the man said, waving goodbye as they started away with the dogs at their heels. 'I'll be here tomorrow, waiting for my gold.' There was no threat in his tone however, and he wore a pleading expression when Wil turned to catch a glimpse.

'How did you do that?' he whispered to Hayley, when they were alone on the Merchant Road.

'I don't have your gift, dear husband, but I just knew they would like me. Call it a woman's intuition.'

A vampire's sixth sense more likely, Wil thought, as they headed towards the gate.

When they returned to their tent, there was a golden Lukrorian Bow with black veins leaning against the bed post. It was in a dark green leather case worked with small gems and golden scrollwork.

'Perfect,' Wil said as he handed the bow to his wife. Hayley held the bow with an uncertain expression, though when she pulled back on the string, a faint golden arrow appeared. A moment later, it vanished before she had relaxed the string, but Wil assured her she would get better at it. She had received some training to learn to wield with little success so far. Her new abilities must have sped up the process. She tried the string again, and this time the arrow was brighter and appeared more substantial, remaining until she eased the string to straight again.

'Terael, it feels amazing!' Hayley exclaimed. 'It's the most exhilarating emotion. I can't describe it properly, but I love it!'

'Let's go and see Terese about some sword practice,' Wil said with a smile. 'I have a favour to ask Jean Fairsythe.'

***

Jean stood in a clearing, with pine and oak trees surrounding her, on the edges of the Ael Tarael camp. She was heaving for breath, from the intense work out she was forced to endure, as part of her sword training. Her new trainer – the Viking! – stood with arms crossed under her large breasts, wearing a leather jerkin fitted to her form that was sewn with steel discs.

The large woman barked orders at Jean constantly, as she moved from one form to the next. Mirror of Blades becoming Street Sweeper, then Cradle of Cuts turned into Hammer of Steel. She focused her mind while struggling to slow her breath. There was no cool breeze today either, nothing to relieve her of the hot sweat that covered her skin. Terese stood nearby, wearing a very pleased expression.

Damn the woman for doing this to me! Jean thought with a sniff. She meant Terese of course, though she felt the same way about her new trainer. Lady Swan became Cross Cleave in a blurring of the blade that reflected the light, becoming Shadow Dancer followed by Night Hawk's Wings.

One thing Jean had to admit was that her new trainer was gifted with the blade. The times Martha had sparred with her with the practice blade so far, had taught Jean that Terese had been going easy on her. Jean realised then, that she was less capable with the blade than she had thought.

Four Ael Tarael and a half-dozen Aldebrands stood watching at a distance. A black-coated Seidr'tera named Del stood there also, though he stood a considerable distance from the Ael Tarael. Overnight, the trust between male and female wielders had been shattered.

Del was only twenty, green eyed with spiked sandy hair. He was mortal, formally a part of the armies of Charkel. There had been a lot of male wielders loyal to the revolution at Charkel in the beginning, which seemed strange considering the fact that the revolution was aimed at stamping out all male wielders.

Now he was one of the loyal ones who had remained, despite the fact that he would never be able to touch teron again. He wore a sword at his hip, and he watched Jean as if he wanted to receive the same lessons she was getting. Male sword training was different though, different forms with different names. The female forms were designed to accommodate for the fact that women would usually have less force behind their strikes and parries. Holding the sword, she was more attuned to the mind of Druantia through the kigare.

Her emerald bow that was the Resting Point for her other Battle Angel, Tanriel, lay nearby on the green field. Both were encouraging her though, their thoughts entering her mind, giving her focus, feeding her strength of will. Both weapons had been enhanced with some of the ki'mera orbs stored from the most recent battle against Nymloc and Jacoulra.

The sword would now easily destroy either of those types of demon with the first strike. Dodging the razor black claws of either in the heat of battle was still a concern though. Woman on the Water, the blade slicing horizontal through the air, became Knife Reeds, a series of vertical chopping actions, flowing into Heart Weaver which was a killing strike.

'Good,' Martha exclaimed in the accent of her ancestors. 'Now faster this time, Slicing Icicles, into Morning Storm, then finish with Heart Weaver.' Jean flowed through the forms as Druantia sent through the kigare.

You would do better if you held Angel-Magic while you practiced.

Terese disagreed however, always insisting that the bliss of terael could distract her from the forms. Despite this, Jean opened herself to the flood of emotions and the grace and peace that terael gave her. A greater sense of calm washed over her; she practiced the forms again, finishing with a decapitating swipe. She was more fluid this time, more in tune with the blade and her surroundings.

She noticed the chirping of birds more clearly; the grass seemed to glow a brighter green; her breathing slowed. 'That was much better,' Martha said with a smirk. 'You are holding it now, yes? Terael, it makes you more efficient, deadlier. I want you to hold Angel-Magic every time you practice the forms, until I say to release.'

'That will tire her out,' Terese interjected.

'Did you not make me her new trainer?' Martha asked with a raised brow.

'Of course, I did, my apologies,' Terese said with a humbled expression. Jean then noticed Wil and Hayley approaching over the rise. They looked as if they wanted to speak with her.

'Can we take a break?' she asked her trainer, who grunted, with a nod after seeing the reason.

Martha still seemed somewhat awed by the Sons of Odin, even though she treated the Daughter of Thor like an untrained lapdog as she said, 'You may release terael for your short break.' Jean sighed as the bliss of Angel-Magic drained out of her; she would have held on to terael if she hadn't felt that Martha's words were a command.

She moved to stand facing Wil and Hayley; she noticed the woman's fangs immediately. She had already heard about the young woman's fate. It pained her heart to see such a young innocent soul poisoned in such a way. A sword hung from her silver waist belt with a golden Lukrorian Bow sticking up above her right shoulder. Wil only wore his axe, in the loop of his thick brown leather belt. She tried to hide her sorrow for Hayley as she asked, 'You wanted to speak with me?'

'I have a favour to ask,' Wil said. 'I need one of your Battle Angels for my wife's protection.'

'I will not allow it!' Terese snapped, the woman sneaking up behind Jean without notice before she spoke. 'The life of the Daughter of Thor is vital to Kismeria. I feel for your wife's plight, Wil, but this can't be done.'

'I'll allow it,' Jean said with a grin, her decision motivated by Terese's apparent abhorrence to the idea. If she could win some small victory over the woman for her new punishment, she would do all it took. 'She may have Druantia, as Tanriel is more closely tied to me as she has been with me longer. Tanriel also commands the skies and the earth.'

'Druantia is stronger,' Terese insisted. 'Think hard before you make this decision, girl.'

'It is done,' Jean said while flashing her teeth, and then she drew her sword and said the name, 'Druantia.' The Great Angel appeared hovering above Jean's head, the form of a woman made of green and blue light, dark seed-shaped eyes and hair of black fire. Runes of gold and silver sparkled on her shimmering gown. 'I release you, Druantia, of the Second Born, Wife to the Green Man. I give your service to Hayley Martyr, wife of Wil Martyr, one of the three Sons of Odin. To protect the wife of one of the Chosen is a great honour, and I know you will serve in good faith.'

She then looked to Hayley as she said, 'Draw your sword or bow to provide a new Resting Point to complete the ceremony. No words are necessary.'

Despite this advice, Hayley reached for her golden bow and held it forward as she said, 'I pledge to honour this great gift from the White Snow Fox, the Daughter of Thor, one of the Chosen. I swear on the blood of my ancestors that I will serve the people and protect what is good and what is innocent.' Then she looked skyward to Druantia as she said, 'You do me great honour, Druantia of the Second Born. I look forward to our kinship through the kigare, where I will know your thoughts and you shall know mine.

'I pray that my dark powers do not infect your own, and I hope that we make an effective team, when facing the might of the Shadow.'

Jean blinked in surprise at those words; they were wise for one as young as Hayley. The girl had become a woman overnight. The knowledge in her eyes had turned from innocence to a sly knowing. Druantia was then absorbed by the bow that glowed with golden light as the blue-green fire surged into the enchanted weapon.

'This is an outrage!' Terese snapped. 'The Daughter of Thor is now halved in her defences. If something happens to her, Wil Martyr, I'll—' She waved a threatening finger at Wil as he spoke over her saying, 'Look at what they've done to my wife! She needs protection! I am grateful for this, to both of you. I will not forget the favour. Though, I have another to ask, of you, Terese.'

'What is it?' Jean asked before Terese could refuse.

'I want Terese to train Hayley with the sword, and the bow,' Wil said. 'I will pay for her training—'

'Do not flaunt your purse strings at me, Son of Odin,' Terese said, in a new state of calm. 'I will grant you this favour, on the condition that Hayley returns Druantia to one of Jean's Resting Points, when another Battle Angel can be found for your wife.'

'I accept those terms,' Hayley said. 'I promise to be a dutiful pupil, Terese Sapphire-Sword, former ghost of the Heroes of Will.'

'There's no need for such formality with me,' Terese said after a sniff. 'Your training will begin immediately. You can spar against Jean. Wil, you can stay and watch if you wish, but she is my student, and you will not question my demands upon her, ever.' There was a threat in that last word. Wil grinned like a proud wolf as he said, 'Of course, I will stay.' He then offered a hand to take Hayley's bow case while she unbuckled the strap. 'Go easy on her.'

'I will, of course,' Jean said.

'I was talking to my wife,' Wil said with that sly grin. Hayley smiled to expose her little white fangs. Jean felt a cold shiver. Terese exhaled audibly, sounding tense. Jean then turned to walk back to the centre of the clearing, where all eyes were on her once more.

The young Seidr'tera appeared to be studying his shoes. Was the man looking for something, or was it the madness setting in? He then looked up to her and gave a warm smile. No! Those clear green eyes were a long way from mad. Del wasn't corrupted like Adem, not yet. Then his gaze appeared inward, the way she imagined she looked when her Battle Angels spoke to her mind through the kigare.

Then he returned to studying his shoes. Odd! Perhaps Jinn-Magic had infected all of their minds in some small way. Every man able to wield Angel-Magic was doomed to destroy the world.

Hayley moved to stand facing Jean. They held their blades relaxed in their right hands hanging down pointed to the ground.

'No!' Martha shouted in her thick tongue. 'You will teach her the forms first, Jean Fairsythe. First, Raven Dives, moving into Corn Harvest, flowing into Silver Snake, and finishing with Fire on the Water.'

Jean flowed through all four forms after moving a few paces from Hayley and facing the same way as her. Then she moved through them again, more slowly, then slower the third time.

'This is Raven Dives,' Jean said, as she lifted her arms with the sword out straight, then plunged the blade downwards and aimed at chest height, moving faster this fourth time.

'This is Corn Harvest,' she said, as she began stepping forward making sideways angular slashes through the air.

'This is Silver Snake,' she said, as she stopped to swing the blade upwards, sliding it around through the air like a live serpent thrashing.

'This is Fire on the Water,' she said as she stepped in again, four long strides, flicking the blade in precise wide cuts that was created for warding off demons. It was also a killing series of strikes. 'Now you attack, and I'll defend.'

Hayley looked competent when she ran through the forms the first time, then the second. She moved with such fluid ease Jean nearly lost her footing. 'You're a fast learner,' Jean said, after barely defending the last flourishes of Hayley's blade. They went through the forms a third time when Terese said, 'Good, Hayley, you show great promise. Perhaps you shall attain the title of Brenda before Jean.'

That put a bur in Jean's boot. 'Now teach her Hawk Moth Flutters, leading into Maiden Weeps, followed by Right Stirrup, and finish with Crimson Sun.' It was Terese who gave the order this time, which earned another grunt from Martha.

This time Jean spoke the names of the forms, every time she gave the four demonstrations, at different speeds.

'This is Hawk Moth Flutters,' she said, as she swung the sword through the air, twisting the two swipes around her form, another defensive move that was also deadly. It left the wielder somewhat vulnerable to frontal jabs however, so it was traditionally more for flaunting prowess.

'This is Maiden Weeps,' she said, as she gripped the hilt with both hands and raised it over her head, to bring it down in a flurry of cutting attacks.

'This is Right Stirrup,' she said, as she moved the last slice of Maiden Weeps into a right-sided downward strike, that would cut a man in half, if the wielder was strong enough. It would at least cleave a nasty wound; or leave a fatal one across the chest to abdomen.

'This is Crimson Sun,' she said, as she swung the blade up again, pointing it high and straight upwards, to bring it down forwards in a slice that was designed for splitting skulls. It was a popular form for wielding the hammer or axe also.

Jean noticed Del staring at her intently when she finished each demonstration. Out of the corner of her eye, though each time she looked at him, he returned his attention to his shoes.

Does he like me? she wondered to herself.

He isn't blushing, but I saw him watching your behind while you practiced, was Tanriel's response to her mind through the kigare.

Jean felt hot flushes in her cheeks! It was sometimes embarrassing to share your thoughts with another woman. Finally, Del looked up at her again and gave another one of those handsome grins.

Adem Highlander would probably kill the boy if he saw those looks, Tanriel sent in her angelic tone.

'Do you want to stand around all day making eyes at young men, or do you wish to train?' Martha shouted. 'Next, Knife Wind, flowing into River Warden, followed by Goose's Wing, and finish with Ram Heart!'

Jean taught the forms to Hayley and then they practice sparred, taking turns for who would defend the attacks. Then they practiced the entire routine, seven times until the sweat became uncomfortable on Jean's skin.

She had been holding Angel-Magic the entire time though, following Martha's order, and discomfort was still heaven when wrapped in the glow of terael. While she defended Hayley's assault during those seven rounds, she sensed Angel-Magic growing in Hayley too.

She was holding almost as much as Jean could without Tanriel! She had heard the woman had the talent to learn to wield a small amount of Angel-Magic, while she was mortal, though her newly gifted immortality had come with a surprising surge in that amount.

Druantia would be fuelling it, though the source of her strength had to come from her dark curse. Jean tried to hide her shock as best she could. She had gone from simple farm girl to dark warrior princess overnight. With a Battle Angel and her enchanted weapons to aid her, Jean suddenly saw the woman as a potential strong ally.

'We should go and talk,' Jean said, when Martha allowed them to finish practice. 'We can become friends, confide in one another, and share secrets.'

'Is that what women do where you come from, Jean Fairsythe?' Hayley asked with that sly smile.

'Well, we would normally drink lots of tequila shots, and do each other's make-up first, then we'd start to share. I think confiding in a friend is quite common here too, isn't it?'

'Of course, I was only teasing, Jean Fairsythe.'

'Call me Jean, not Snow Fox, or Daughter of Thor, or Chosen, just Jean. Friend's don't use each other's surnames in conversation.'

'Yes, but it is the way of the immortals,' Hayley said with a hurt expression. 'I would consider myself an immortal now, before I accepted that I am a vampire. So, I would call you by your full name, even if we were not friends.' She smiled at the last, and then moved to collect her bow from Wil who looked pleased with her skill.

Jean followed, with Terese trailing, along with a host of Aldebrands when a gathering of Ael Tarael stepped into their path. They were among those that had watched the sword practice. Lauren Celman was amongst them, short with golden hair in intricate braids, and she wore the crimson silk cloak of a Lion Rohjor Ael Tarael.

'You must let us begin your training with Angel-Magic this evening, Hayley Martyr,' Lauren said, with a look of awe in her crystal blue eyes. 'Your strength is phenomenal! You will stand high among the protectors of the White Snow Fox.' Her gaze shifted to Jean at the last, the same look of wonder to her gaze.

After lunch, where Jean ate fruits and drank orange juice, and Hayley hopped into a goblet full of goat's blood, the two of them sat on the edge of the bed, in Jean's tent, and shared stories, while Terese sat watching them, from a chair at the far end of the pavilion.

There was no point insisting that Terese wait outside; she could just as easily listen in on every word they said. The former ghost sat with her boots crossed over and legs out straight, her arms resting on either side of the thick cushioned seat.

She looked very displeased when Jean began to relate intimate stories about Adem to her new confidante. Hayley's stories about Wil were enough to make Jean's heart flutter; the vampire woman giggled and whispered things in her ear that made Terese sniff or sigh.

After about an hour of chatting about girls' stuff, Lauren entered the tent to summon Hayley for her training with Angel-Magic.

'You should join us, Jean Fairsythe,' Lauren said with a more reserved expression. 'From now on, I will be training both of you, together. We see great promise in you both.'

The Ael Tarael led them to another large tent, where dozens of female wielders were gathered inside the empty space. The women wore bright silks and dark velvet, or woollen cloaks, scrollwork, or patterns on their dresses, and jewellery shining on their necks and fingers. Lira Tolnock was also amongst them, in a deep-sea green velvet cloak and emerald silk gown with divided skirts for riding; the Wolf Rohjor brooch fastening her cloak.

Lira had been hiding from Adem for some time now, refusing to be appointed for his Healing-Magic. Jean wondered at the woman's reasons for that decision. She either despised him, or she was in love with him. Jean decided she would question the immortal woman about it some other time.

The rest were faces Jean recognised, though she didn't know all of their names. Lira appeared subdued with her thoughts, while that expression of awe had returned to Lauren's face as she said, 'We will begin with casting Fire-Magic and crafting Shield-Spells. You will teach both of these Angel-Spells to Hayley and then take turns practicing each, against one another.'

Jean felt that she was competent to teach Angel-Magic, so she began by telling Hayley to embrace terael. The next moment Hayley was flooded with Angel-Magic, taking on that look of nearly exploding with joy. That brought a murmur from many of the women standing around watching.

They whispered to one another behind cupped hands and others stared with startled faces. 'Do not draw so much so quickly,' Lauren instructed, 'you could easily become permanently unable to ever wield again. Release more than half of what you hold now, or Jean's Shield-Spells will not be able to withstand your attacks.' That last comment was also a blow to Jean's ego. She believed she could block her if she had Tanriel's assistance though.

She then taught the Angel-Spell for a simple frontal Shield-Spell that protected the entire body. Hayley was a fast learner with Angel-Magic too, and she soon had it mastered, so she then taught the Angel-Spells for casting balls of flame. The first ball of Fire-Magic Hayley created was golden; the second blue, the third red, the fourth orange, and finally purple.

She had mastered nearly every temperature of Fire-Magic in her first lesson! Each time Hayley cast one of the balls of fire, Jean wielded a frontal Shield-Spell that was barely able to deflect the attack. It wasn't that Jean was weak with Angel-Magic after her sword training; she just wasn't strong enough with Air-Magic yet to hold off against Hayley's strength.

She decided not to test Hayley's strength with Shield-Magic by casting while holding the maximum amount of Angel-Magic. Instead, she started with a quarter at Lauren's command and then progressed slowly up to halfway. The Shield-Spells appeared as a transparent glow of blue-white liquid fire, though they were mostly formed of Air-Magic. Each time a ball of light struck the Shield-Spell, it flared incandescent in the colour of the fireball. There was a slight pushing effect from the attacks as well. If the wielder was strong enough, they could still send you flying backwards with such an assault.

If the Shield-Magic was strong enough, they could deflect a herd of charging bulls if they wanted to. Such Shield-Spells were vital to staying alive when facing a horde of demons in a frontal attack.

Shield-Spells that surrounded the entire body were harder to teach however, the Angel-Magic more complex. She allowed Lauren to instruct Hayley with those, and they were about to start practicing the spells when Del stuck his head inside the tent to report, 'Rebel Alit'aren have returned for peace talks. There is only a few of them, but King Tobin has instructed us not to attempt capture.' His expression was cautious when he gazed at the faces of the women in the tent.

The poor boy must feel like a rabbit with his foot in a snare, Tanriel sent through the kigare. Jean reached for her emerald bow that lay flat on the brightly carpeted floor.

They will all feel that way, before too long, Jean sent to Tanriel, her connection increasing when she held the bow.

'They have requested to speak with Jean Fairsythe,' Del said. 'They wish the declaration to be revoked, by order of the White Snow Fox.'

'There is no chance of that happening,' Terese said to the lad, who looked as if he had been stepped on.

'They say, if agreements cannot be reached,' Del continued, with more confidence, 'or if these messengers do not return to them, it will be a declaration of war!' The last word came out as a nervous croak.

'Let's go and see if we can stop a war then,' Jean said, as she began to stride towards the tent door. Del frowned at her, before he stepped back to allow her passage. When she was striding alongside the boy with Aldebrands flanking them, she turned back to see Terese, Hayley, and the tide of other women following, all of them looking a little nervous.

Chapter 19

To Avoid Destruction

Adem hurried from his tent and made his way towards the meeting area, where the messenger Alit'aren were waiting. Aldebrands flanked him, and Carl strode beside him with his spear in hand. The gathering was within the Alit'aren camp, surrounded by Aldebrands, Aesir'Eron, Seidr'tera, and remaining Alit'aren who were loyal to King Tobin. Ael Tarael and female wielders with Lukrorian Bows also guarded the seven men who stood proudly in their dark uniforms.

Rodriel Tarz was amongst them, standing with the command of a leader; his arms crossed over his chest with the Odin Sons sigils on his collar. Only two others were actually full Alit'aren, another two were Seidr'tera, and the last two were Aesir'Eron looking no older than sixteen.

They were a humble emissary to send for this meeting, after the deaths of so many Ael Tarael, as well as soldiers and Aldebrands who had tried to stop the rebellion. Adem suspected that Tarz wished to appease them, with the innocent faces of young men, who were sentenced to an early death. If the Alit'aren could not hold Angel-Magic, the slowing effect to their aging would cease, and they would only live a little longer than most mortals. Youngsters like these two, Sedir and Calmus, would be lucky to live to eighty if they were severed from teron at this age.

That was cutting their potential life spans down to less than a sixth. Tarz made these same points, as an appeal to Jean, to destroy the declarations and allow the Alit'aren to continue using Angel-Magic.

'I speak for the entire clan when I say we wish to make peace, Daughter of Thor. We wish to end this so that order can be restored, and protection provided.'

'Was this also your protection of our people, that saw to the murder of over thirty fully raised Ael Tarael?' Jean asked. 'Would you have us forgive these crimes and accept you back into our army, only to watch you all continue to wield, until Jinn-Magic has driven you beyond the brink of sanity?'

Adem stood a few paces to the side of Jean and Terese. Carl stood beside him and Hayley, and Wil stood a pace behind. They could all hear the conversation clearly however, as the clearing was otherwise silent. Adem had wanted to speak with Tarz alone, though Jean would not allow it, and their appeal was addressed to the White Snow Fox, not one of the Sons of Odin.

'Carl Wilder's declaration will ruin our chances of victory over the Shadow,' Tarz stated. The man was nearly a head height taller than Adem, wide shoulders and dark hair and eyes. His black moustache was thick like two downward-curving horns. He was tanned skinned and muscular, an immortal of the Torvellen clan.

Adem wondered what Torin had learnt so far, his former trainer was his inside man amongst this Alit'aren rebellion. In truth, Adem had started the rebellion, by informing a number of Alit'aren and Seidr'tera of Carl's new declaration to outlaw male wielding. He'd sent the word out immediately after Carl stated the order. His mind flashed back to his words to Torin when lightning filled the sky and thunder roared.

'Go with them, Torin. Find out their plans and report back to me,' he'd said to his immortal friend. 'You will be my eyes and ears, and you may provide hope of me reuniting with the rebels when the time is critical.'

The sky appeared to be on fire as more blue bolts had flared in the distance. Torin had promised he would send coded messages to Adem about the movements of the rebel Alit'aren army, sealed with his ancient signet. He would require a trustworthy man to be his messenger, and also one who could play both sides.

His mind returned to the present as Jean replied, 'To avoid destruction, we must make a declaration of peace, that much is agreed upon. Though, the terms of the agreement shall take time. Until then, you are free to come and go as you wish, sending messengers to discuss these terms in full.

'However, I stand by Carl Wilder's declaration, male wielding must remain outlawed, and the punishment shall also stand. Those that continue to disobey these commands shall meet their dues.

'The Alit'aren were once known as the Hammer of the All-Father, serving and protecting Kismeria from the terrors of the demon armies. From this day forward, the rebel army shall be known as the Forsaken. For if they wish to continue to touch the Jinn-Magic on teron, there shall be no ending to the chaos we will surely endure. I wish to be rational with you, Rodriel Tarz, as I know you would have high command amongst the rebels, but I cannot revoke the new laws proclaimed by the Immortal Kings.

'Messengers have already been sent to every corner of the Free Lands on altherin horses; they left last night after your disgraceful acts. Word will have reached many nations already, and you would have little hope of stopping any of them now that they've had such a head start. Those messengers will ride their horses into the ground to spread word to the distant keeps and holds.

'Everyone will know of the new laws, and those Alit'aren that choose to rebel will no doubt fall into your hands. This presents the problem of two great armies inevitably facing off against one another.

'This is as great a concern to me, as it would be if I allowed the declaration to be revoked. I see your heart in this cause, Rodriel. I know you are still a good man with good intentions. Though, I also see that dark burning in your gaze that is more than just your temper brewing.

'The Sickness is something we cannot predict. How can we trust men who may one day slay thousands in the blink of an eye? The risk is too great, you must see that.'

That burning gaze regarded Jean for some time, before the man said, 'I'm sorry we could not reach amiable terms this day, Jean Fairsythe. You hold the power to end this war, though I am sorry to say it has already begun. We will continue to hold teron every day to preserve our life force.

'We will continue to train our Seidr'tera and Aesir'Eron to wield against our enemies. We will continue to oppose this new law, and anyone who tries to uphold it, and we shall form our own kingdom where our own laws are governed.'

'Then you will be hunted down and destroyed,' Jean said, though Adem sensed her nervousness. She had changed so much since she entered the Arch. She was a strong-willed woman before that, now she was hard as stone.

Tarz grunted and gave a tilt to his head, staring back at her as if she were a white wolf. He then turned to leave when Adem ran up to him and began to follow, as the emissaries departed through the crowd. He strode to keep pace with the other man, choosing his words carefully before he asked, 'Where will you set up this new kingdom?'

'We have not decided yet,' Tarz replied. 'Far from Nordhel, that much is certain. Perhaps the Green Border nations will accept us, or we may be pushed as far south as the vampire cursed lands.

'Wherever we go, we will send emissaries to every nation to gather those who choose to rebel against Carl Wilder's decree. The Alit'aren will be needed when the Sons of Odin face Jinn-Fendinn, in future battles and in the Ragnarök Battle. If we allow our knowledge to dwindle over the next thousand years, there is no hope of victory.'

'I agree with you, Rodriel,' Adem said, 'I will need every male wielder I can summon if my plan is to work.'

'And what is your plan?'

'To imprison Fendinn in Kerak'Otozi, seal him within his Resting Point. That will hopefully hold him until the end of the Age of Chaos.'

'Jinn-Fendinn will gather a great army of demons to try to stop you from achieving this aim,' Tarz mused.

'That is exactly the reason why I agree with you, Tarz. I will require all of you to fight by my side,' he whispered the last, looking around to see if any Ael Tarael were following. 'We can't allow this war between Ael Tarael and Alit'aren. Think of the lives of the young male wielders who will fight against your rebellion. They will hold to their oath to not touch teron, and they will face you in battle armed only with swords.

'It will be a massacre if you choose to use Angel-Magic against them. Either way we will be cutting our forces in half. Thousands will die, perhaps tens of thousands. We must work together to ensure the Wars of Chaos do not occur. Jean's words were simple truth; "to avoid destruction" we must heal this rift.'

'You wish to avoid destruction?' Tarz asked with a snort. 'Without male wielders, this entire world shall fall into ruin. Jinn-Fendinn's demon forces will destroy us all!'

'Then follow my commands, as I am the only one of the Chosen who still sees the logic of your cause. Gather all those who oppose the decree, set up base somewhere that Tobin's armies will be reluctant to attack. Wait for my summons, Rodriel Tarz, and you shall lead the rebel Alit'aren into redemption.'

The man rubbed his square chin for a time, still taking long strides, before he stopped to turn to Adem and offer his hand as he said, 'My clan will remain loyal to the Blue Water Dragon. If you can prove yourself to be this man before your plan evolves, I will command them to follow you.'

Tarz was amongst those who had heard Carl name Adem as the Blue Dragon on the day they set out from Nordhel. The Prophecies said the Dragon would learn to fly, in the real world, along with other miracles to prove he was the leader of the Saviours. Those Prophecies also stated that the Dragon would not achieve this feat by becoming a Nightwalker, which was the only way Adem was sure he could achieve it. 'I hope that day comes to fruition,' Tarz said with an honest expression, after Adem shook his hand. Then the man scowled and moved off with his dark-coated followers.

Later, in his tent, Adem sat in a large armchair, rubbing his temples, while Carl sat dictating scripture to the scholars and scribes. There were four of them today, two of each. The two scholars were the almost identical, secretary-looking immortals, who turned up for every sitting. The two men were a bane to Carl's existence, with their constant questions and bickering with him over details, such as the number of eyewitnesses to each accounted miracle. Adem understood this about the scholars though he was one who could appreciate the meaning and value of a True Witness.

The subject was doubtful with Carl however, who only ever saw the importance of faith, based on ancient eyewitness accounts, recited to second and third-hand witnesses. Adem knew that in a way, Carl resented being an eyewitness to supernatural phenomenon. It made him feel that he needed purification from the sin of being witness to the afterlife.

Danil Mardel was one of the two scholars; his spiked hair and moustache were grey tinged, while Aldin Foebius, the other, had dark hair. Both often dressed similarly to Alit'aren in black coats and trousers, though most often with the Lion Rohjor sigil embroidered on their chests to mark them as servants to King Tobin.

The two mortal scribes were not so regular, and Carl appeared displeased with the way he often had to repeat himself while dictating. His mood was calm though, from what Adem could sense. Those two wore brown-hooded robes similar to monks.

One surprising change was that all four of the men had started wearing the Holy Cross somewhere on their bodies. Aldin wore a brown beaded wrist band with a chunky wooden cross marked with the symbol of a fish, the ancient sign for followers of Christ.

Danil wore a silver cross upon the right side of his high collar, in similar fashion to the Rohjor sigil most Alit'aren wore. The scribes wore heavy silver chains with silver crosses almost the size of a hand hanging down their chests. As Adem understood it, the base of those larger crosses was a silver dagger encased in another silver cast.

Silver was a strong weapon against vampires, though these men were starting to believe that the Holy Cross would also hold power over Nightwalkers.

Carl continued to dictate as Adem sat back to think on his conversation with Tarz. The man had basically guaranteed he would follow his orders, if Adem was able to prove he was the Blue Water Dragon. This concerned him though, if Carl or Wil turned out to be the Dragon, they would probably try to defeat Tarz and the rebels.

His other concern was the fact that Tarz did not deny he would use Angel-Magic against Tobin's army, perhaps even slaughtering the Alit'aren that had remained loyal to the Saviours. He began to think of how that could be avoided when he asked Carl, 'What if the Alit'aren only used their Angel-Magic to block frontal attacks during combat? Air-Magic requires less Angel-Magic, so the risk of Jinn-Magic would be lowered, and the Alit'aren could increase their skills with the sword to become a legion of blades, buffered by Shield-Spells formed from teron.'

He saw that that idea could work even if the loyalist Alit'aren were forced to fight the rebels. A legion of linked wielders creating walls of Air-Magic could slice through those barriers from the other side with their blades. If the Shield-Spells could withstand fire and lightning, Agnars could cut down any enemy.

Carl considered it for a time before he said, 'They will still turn mad, eventually. Perhaps this will create a necessary balance though. I see now that things have gotten too out of hand, with the rebel army and the divisions that are forming.

'I will agree to allow our own Magicians to wield Air-Magic once a week, to increase their abilities at forming Shield-Spells. Sword practice is first and foremost for them now, though I concede that we may need to allow this variation of the decree for our defences to hold any sort of chance. It would be horrible to see thousands of male wielders massacred because we wouldn't allow them to defend themselves with Angel-Magic.

'I agree, Adem. You may spread the word.'

Adem grinned so broadly his dimples must be showing. 'Thank you, Carl. I won't forget this.'

He then stood to gather his sword belt and blade in its dragon scrawled scabbard. Moments later, he was hurrying from the tent and strolling through the camp with Aldebrands at his side. It was starting to get dark though the air was humid.

He saw a gathering of Seidr'tera beside a fire, with a spitted roast boar sizzling over the flames. The aroma made his mouth water, and he decided that was the place to be. Already servants were cutting slices off the roast and passing platefuls to a long serving table, where Ael Tarael, Alit'aren, and soldiers were gathering.

Freshly baked breads and whole cheese wheels also covered the white clothed table, and Adem was soon helping himself to a pork sandwich with a slice of cheese that was identical to Swiss. He carried the large meal in both hands as he moved to sit on the fallen tree beside two of the Seidr'tera. He knew these mortal boys better than he knew the immortal Alit'aren nearby, so he explained the news to the youngsters. A look of hope burnt in their eyes at his words; they would be allowed to touch teron once a week, and they could wield Shield-Magic to defend while fighting with the sword.

Not all full Alit'aren were Agnars, especially amongst the mortals, as before now Angel-Magic had been the only weapon they needed. Yet even an Agnar was helpless against wielders unless they had adequate defences. Del was one of the boys, sandy haired and green eyed. Ron was the other, dark of eyes with blonde hair that appeared almost white.

'You have saved us, Adem Highlander!' Del said excitedly. 'Now we can live for hundreds of years with teron preserving our flesh. The men will be very happy to hear the news.'

He then began to move off through the crowds, stopping to speak to every male wielder he saw. Adem watched as word spread like wildfire; suddenly, there was a new burning in their eyes, not Jinn-Magic, but the light that spoke of the wonder of feeling teron in your heart and soul.

They were beginning to touch Angel-Magic too, first a small few who couldn't resist, though others must have been delaying until they could no longer bear being without the ecstasy of teron. If they touched it now, they could not do so again for another week.

Dozens of them began to hold it though, trickles of Air-Magic designed to form Shield-Spells, creating a murmur amongst the male wielders who still hadn't heard the news. They had to know something was up, but they were loyal to each other first and foremost it seemed, so none were named for holding Angel-Magic, while the female wielders were oblivious to the charging of energy that was lighting up around them.

Adem smiled again before he took another large bite of his sandwich and sat chewing, feeling content.

It will still all end in disaster, he thought to himself.

Arawn sent through the kigare: Maybe, but you were right to save them from an early death. There will be further need for the Alit'aren in the battles we will face.

None of them could have resisted the desire to wield for long. If he hadn't been able to convince Carl, every loyal male wielder would have ended up trialled and prevented from wielding teron forever. A few years were the expected life span of anyone who suffered such a fate. It then occurred to Adem that perhaps being banned from wielding for the same amount of time may have resulted in the same effect.

Again, he considered that longing he saw in the eyes of the Immortal Kings. Were they in danger of death if they continued to deny themselves even a trickle of Angel-Magic? He then realised he'd better go and discuss that with them, in case it hadn't crossed anyone's mind yet. In most cases, once someone learnt to wield, they reached for Angel-Magic at least once every day. The effects of resisting that gift could be as consequential as being cut from it.

He didn't want to waste the sandwich, so he took it and the plate, on his way towards Orion's tent. His two Aldebrands had been snacking close by and they quickly followed.

***

Orion stood over a large map, rolled out across his desk and held down by golden eagle weights. Tobin stood next to him, as they examined the lands surrounding Charkel, planning the movements of scouts. Red figurines from a set of mohrthra'daeghal marked the places where revolution was still rife. Blue figurines marked the holds and keeps that were said to be loyal to the Immortal Kings. Carl Wilder's decree would help to stem the spread of revolution; at least, they hoped it would.

Messengers were already returning from nearby kingdoms, after delivering word of the declaration to banish male wielders from using Angel-Magic. An Aldebrand from Carl Wilder's tent had already reported the alterations to that decree, which meant that loyal wielders would be allowed to wield Air-Spells to defend themselves in swordfights. Orion was relieved to hear the news, as he had feared his loyal Alit'aren would have been sent to their deaths if they were to face the rebels without such defences.

Lydia and Elmira sat on cushioned sofas within the same large tent, both of them whispering about Adem and Jean. Terese had reported the secret meetings of the two lovers to Elmira in a coded letter. The relationship between the Dragon and the Fox didn't concern Orion; he thought it was an untold part of the Prophecies. Adem and Jean would need each other to survive, just as Orion needed Elmira to breathe.

Tobin was pointing to the figurines placed over the regions surrounding Tentor and Corsair, when Adem entered the tent with a peculiar smile. He must have been gloating over the changes to the decree. 'You have something to discuss with us?' Orion asked.

Adem moved to stand with his arms crossed over his chest as he said, 'I have a theory. I'm concerned that both you, and Tobin, may be denying yourselves precious life force, if you continue to resist wielding teron.'

'Why do you say that?' Orion asked.

'My theory is that going for years without touching Angel-Magic, could be as detrimental as being permanently prevented from wielding it. My concern is that this might result in an early death, even for immortals. I see the strain on your faces, as you yearn to feel teron. This may be even more fatal than Jinn-Magic. Has any wielder ever resisted Angel-Magic for a long period of time voluntarily?'

'There has never been any reason to research such effects,' Tobin replied. 'Though, perhaps you are right. Lately I have felt, not myself. I stress more and sleep less. Jinn-Magic could be the problem, though I have very rarely touched teron since the First Arrival, so it seems more likely your theory is to blame.'

Orion said, 'I agree. We should act in accordance with the alterations, wielding once a week and only with Air-Magic for our protection. This should preserve our life forces. I have longed for this.'

He then opened himself to Angel-Magic. Teron flooded him with light and shadows, joy and despair. Before Angel-Magic was corrupted, it had been a wellspring of ecstasy, now that feeling was melded with a dark plague. He wanted to weep with relief at the flood of emotions that surged through him, though he kept his face calm.

Tobin embraced teron a moment later, the two of them matching one another, though they only held a portion of their potential. Surprisingly, Adem didn't open himself to Angel-Magic. He simply smiled and tilted his head to one side as he asked, 'Now, isn't that better?'

'Will things be better when our husbands have lost their minds?' Elmira asked with a raised brow.

'Would you rather risk them dying before the Ragnarök Battle?' Adem asked without turning to face the women. Elmira sniffed, and Lydia glared as if she despised Adem.

'It is necessary, my love,' Tobin said to his wife. 'Do not blame the Sons of Odin for what has always been our fate. They shall redeem themselves when the time is right.'

'He had better do exactly that,' Lydia replied, 'or his fate shall be the same as the rebels.' That last comment seemed to strike a nerve with Adem, who suddenly looked pained, his gaze inward.

'Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Adem Highlander,' Elmira said. 'Now if you would excuse us, we are about to sit for supper.'

'You are welcome to join us,' Orion offered, which earned him a warning stare from his wife before he added, 'and we can discuss the problem of the rebels.'

'I have already eaten, thank you,' Adem said, his gaze returned to focus, and then he turned and marched from the tent. That response roused Orion's suspicions; he knew Adem had spoken with the rebel emissaries today. He also believed Adem had played a part in starting the rebellion. What was he planning behind that secretive smirk?

Chapter 20

A Place of Refuge

It took a further seven days for the first letter from Torin to arrive. The messenger was one of the youngsters who arrived amongst the emissaries. They were free to visit the camp. Twelve men formed their party this time, four Alit'aren, four Seidr'tera, and four were Aesir'Eron.

Rohan Miredis was the lad's name, a boy of sixteen with apple-green eyes and spiked red hair, fair skinned with freckled cheeks. The seal was not damaged, nor did it appear tampered with; Torin had no doubt also cautioned Rohan about the importance of discretion.

He glanced up at the boy's eyes more than once during the time Rohan stood with arms at his sides, while Adem read over the letter. There was a sign of the Sickness in those young eyes, Jinn-Magic working its evil within his mind. How long would Rohan resist the effects? How long would any of them last?

Adem coughed and folded the letter as the boy's eyes took on an inward gaze.

Hearing voices, most likely, Adem thought to himself.

Perhaps it would be wise to start killing them off before they become a danger, Arawn replied.

Adem's own gaze must have appeared inward while he listened to his Battle Angel. He wasn't sure if that comment was intended as a joke.

'Thank you, young Rohan,' Adem said. 'You may return to your party.' The boy nodded, which was an indication of a bow, before he turned to leave the tent. Adem unfolded the letter and looked over the coded message again, working the cipher through in his mind. It simply said,

We've camped north of the rising stars. We seek a place to form a foothold.

The grey bear rules the den, though the red wolf holds influence.

There is unrest in this region, we'll likely push southeast or west.

Morale is low amongst the men. There is a need for a strong leader.

There was no signature, though the seal was Torin's signet, the symbol of his ancient Royal House. The 'red wolf' referred to Tarz, the 'grey bear' was Brolen Aeldur, a Nordic Alit'aren over eight hundred years old. The 'unrest' would refer to revolutionaries making life uneasy for the rebel Alit'aren invading their lands.

The 'need for a strong leader' was aimed directly at Adem though. Torin would see Adem's leadership as the only hope for the rebels. There was little else to the code, except the reference to seeking a 'foothold', which meant there was still no decision as to where they would build a place of refuge.

North of the 'rising stars' put them close to the Mithrim Mountains, on the border of Corsair. The mountains would provide a temporary foothold, though the people of Corsair would consider the invasion an act of war. It was unlikely they would engage in battle against thousands of potentially mad wielders, however.

Though, the rebels' movements would be watched by a considerable force in that region. Torin's lack of detail about where they planned to move was also disturbing. Adem needed to know where to find this army of wielders when his need was great. The man would surely provide that information once they found a definite safe haven.

The main reason emissaries were still sent to the camp was to gather women loyal to the rebels, wives, mistresses, servant women, any who would leave Tobin's camp to join those that were now called the Forsaken. Many did go too; they must have seen an army of male wielders as a necessary danger for these lands and these times. Adem realised the rebels must be planning to build their own nation, breeding wielders who lived apart from the new laws.

Over fifty women left with the emissary on the day the first letter was delivered, and the following week, another hundred and fifty left. According to Rohan, they were also gathering up women from the villages and farms they passed through, as well as recruiting men to become soldiers in their army.

The rebels also sent out their own declaration, offering sanctuary to any male wielder who did not wish to comply with the new laws. The alteration to that decree didn't entice the rebels to form a truce, however. They seemed hesitant to trust in such a law that restricted them from wielding any more than once a week. They also didn't like the idea of only being allowed to wield Air-Magic.

'Alit'aren are weapons forged for destruction,' Tarz remarked when Adem tried to make the man see reason. 'Shield-Spells make adequate defences for soldiers, but if we aren't able to form walls of Fire-and-Earth-Magic, we lose the crux of our abilities.'

The following week, Adem received a letter from Torin that explained in code that the rebel army was on the move again. This time headed west between Mendora and Tentor. There was no mistaking their destination, the Kingarin Forest, where they would attempt to recruit Dremelden Immortals.

Perhaps they also intended to make a plea to the Dremelden King. If one of the four Immortal Kings did not agree with the banishment on male wielding, it would increase the size of the rebel army. Immortal Aldebrands, Wood Kin, Archers, as well as Alit'aren would join the Forsaken army, swelling their forces until they potentially outmatched the loyalist armies. Soldiers and Agnars were effective for winning wars of steel, though they would be swept aside like driftwood in rapids against an army of wielders.

Adem discussed this threat with Carl many times as he waited for further news from Torin. He hadn't told anyone of Torin's letters, or that Torin was his inside man within the rebel army. He could not even trust Carl with this secret, for it could cost Torin his life if he was named a traitor. Surely, there were those within the rebel army who knew of Torin's writings to Adem, though none of the seals were broken so far, and Rohan seemed trustworthy, so he trusted that no one knew what information was contained in those letters.

Most of the information Torin had provided was available from scout reports and letters sent from officials in Corsair, Tentor, and Mendora. They detailed the movements of the rebel army and predicted their intended destination.

'We need to send ambassadors to make continued peace talks with the rebels,' Adem would say to his friend, to which Carl would always reply, 'We've tried that already, Adem. Jean gave them their ultimatum, and they would not comply with those terms. We've altered those terms and offered them sanctuary if they comply, and they have refused that offer also. I say let them go their own way, seeking refuge in lands that will surely deny them safe haven. Until they are pushed as far as the Southlands, where they will have to watch their backs every moment in fear of vampires.'

'That hardly seems a justified place for men who once held such honour in these lands,' Adem replied, before Carl would say something like, 'Yes, but perhaps that dent to their ego is what is required, before they will see the error of their ways. We have amended the decree to allow all male wielders to continue to touch teron once a week, wielding Air-Magic to form defences as they continue to practice becoming Agnars, their new station, and a place of high honour within our armies. Why can't they see the sense of this decision?'

'I'm not sure if it is sensible,' Adem would retort, 'if you consider the value of thousands of male wielders versus the same amount of Agnars, it's like replacing Fire Lions for kittens! We need Angel-Magic to win this war. Steel will not defeat Jinn-Fendinn.'

Their arguments continued on like that, sometimes late into the night without either one relenting. Adem only wished Carl would see the sense of his argument, which was that they could not win without reuniting the rebels to their cause. He kept his true intentions secret however, only Tarz and Torin knew any part of those plans. Otherwise, everyone thought he was loyal to Tobin and Orion, everyone except perhaps the two kings. They were suspicious of his talks with Tarz, and they surely knew of Rohan acting as messenger for someone within the rebel camp. They would have eyes and ears surveying Adem's movements to try to learn more.

For this reason, he kept to his tent unless he was in training; he kept his conversations to a minimum and did not discuss the rebels where there were others within earshot. He never mentioned Torin's name in public, and he never spoke of forming alliances with any of the rebels. He needed everyone to assume that he was focused on how to achieve victory without the Alit'aren. Tobin and Orion also wanted him to meet with them each night to discuss a method of dealing with the rebels, though he always declined to attend. He couldn't allow Tobin's army to engage the Alit'aren in open warfare. The casualties on both sides would be extensive, including the possibility of starting wars across the Free Lands.

The Alit'aren could respond by tearing down city walls and burning thousands in giant bonfires. They may try this before they were turned to evil or madness, simply to make the point that they were vexed over being opposed by armies led by Ael Tarael.

In his spare hours, he sat and meditated on how to deal with these problems though the solution continued to evade him.

The following week Tobin's army was on the move again, heading southwest for Corsair, those lands still filled with hostile revolutionaries. Lady Elise Caravine was desperate to reach Auglem Watch, to speak with the lords and ladies there to try to make peace with the farmer armies that had started the uprising. It was the second week of summer when they crossed over into the borders of Corsair, where they met with a small portion of the farmer army, some six thousand men, mostly farmers armed with spears or pitchforks though many also wore swords at their hips.

A man in rusted armour with a grey beard greeted Tobin and Orion, with Adem riding at their side. His name was Tobroel Munjayer, a mortal, made captain of this smaller force that guarded the northern border of the province.

'I do not wish to make war with you, King Tobin,' the man said, 'though I cannot allow you passage within our borders.'

'We come to make peace,' Orion said to the captain, 'and to restore order to these lands.'

'My orders come from the new ruler of Corsair,' Tobroel explained. 'He says to allow none of the immortal kind, nor any of their male wielders within these boundaries. You have many Alit'aren with you, I see.'

'You are aware of the new laws that govern those loyal to us,' Tobin said. 'They are restricted in their wielding, decreasing the risk of infection by Jinn-Magic.'

'That may be so,' Tobroel replied. 'But I have my orders, and I cannot allow you to pass.' The man held up a hand like a small wall, then crossed his arms over his breastplate. Adem discussed their next move with the two kings in whispers.

'We could go around them or go through them,' Adem suggested, to which Tobin answered, 'We will request to send emissaries to speak with this new ruler, to try to gain passage for our army.'

This request was at first denied by the captain, though the presence of one of the Chosen seemed to make the man uneasy, so Adem sent a messenger to bring Jean, Carl, and Wil forward. The three of them arrived shortly after on their mounts with Terese and Hayley flanking them.

'What is your ruler's name?' Adem asked.

'Keljar,' Tobroel replied. 'Chief Keljar El'Koto.'

'And would your chief refuse an audience with the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor?' Adem asked with a sly grin.

'Err, I ah ... I'm not sure, my lord,' Tobroel said, dabbing at sweat forming on his brow. 'I suppose he would be honoured to receive such an audience.'

'So, you will grant passage for the Chosen, these two kings and their wives, and a small host of bodyguards?' Adem asked.

'I'll allow it,' Tobroel replied. 'Though, your male wielders may not join your escort.'

'I request to bring four Seidr'tera and four Aesir'Eron; all mortals,' Adem said. 'As you know they are only allowed to wield Air-Spells to defend themselves. Alit'aren and their Seidr'tera are basically swordsmen these days.'

The fearful captain whispered to his First Lieutenant for some time before he agreed to those terms. The lieutenant's name was Thal Agrem, a tall man in his forties, dark hair and a kind expression, with a silvered breastplate over a green woollen coat.

Thal led their party to Auglem Watch. They were allowed to bring four Ael Tarael and eight Aldebrands as well as the eight male wielders. Terese and Hayley were also allowed to join the party. Thal brought a dozen of his own soldiers for escort, all in rusted armour or leather jerkins sewn with metal discs − brown leathers and green coats and cloaks. Some wore rusted helmets of steel or iron, each one different with eagle wings or bat wings at the temples, or face bars or chain mail at the back and sides.

Adem had chosen Del and Ron as two of the four Seidr'tera to join the party. More than once Adem was sure he caught Del making eyes at Jean! She seemed not to notice, or at least she pretended not to. He tried to tell himself it was nothing to be jealous about.

They reached the walls of Auglem Watch after two days. They stopped to make camp the first night and ate dried beef, flat bread, and cheeses from their ration packs. The women sat on their blankets and talked while the men practiced with their weapons, usually the Sons of Odin matched against the Aldebrands, which provided a show for the Corsairan soldiers. That night Adem had questioned Thal about his new leader El'Koto.

'Keljar is a hard man, Lord Adem,' he said. 'I have served better men than him. He seems determined to exercise absolute dominance over his people. He already seems to consider himself our King, and I've seen much better kings in my days too.'

'But El'Koto is just a Chief,' Adem replied.

'With Keljar,' Thal replied, 'one is much like the other.'

Auglem Watch was fifty-feet-high grey stone walls, with the Mithrim Mountains rising in the distance. Towers were spaced around the diamond-shaped fortifications, where horns sounded at their approach. The light was fading when they reached the palace steps in the heart of the stronghold, where they entered to find high-stone walls hung with crimson-and-gold banners, and a gilded throne on a dais where the new ruler sat, wearing a golden crown studded with emeralds and rubies.

Evidently, the former farmer had adequately financed himself after overthrowing the rulers in the region. Apparently, there had been no battle, the lords and ladies simply gave up Auglem Watch and the ruling of Corsair to this tall man with blue-grey eyes. Keljar El'Koto would no doubt change his title from chief to king in the months that followed if the region was not handed back to its rightful owners.

'Welcome, Sons of Odin, Daughter of Thor,' Keljar said, when they stood before him. 'It is a great honour to have you in my presence.' The man wore bronzed armour under a red cloak, a dark coat, leather trousers, and boots.

'We come to speak of peace terms with the rulers of this region.' Orion began, before Keljar cut him off saying, 'I make no address to you, Immortal King, and I am the only ruler of Corsair, for the record.' He swelled with confidence. Adem wondered at his audacity of refusing to acknowledge an Immortal King's right to speak.

'Where are the former rulers?' Adem asked, to which the man replied, 'They are kept in a place of safety, where they are watched to ensure they do not attempt to reclaim these lands.'

'You mean you have them imprisoned?' Jean asked.

'They are housed within the cells below the keep,' Keljar said, after a deep sigh. 'A ruler must be firm with his subjects if he wishes to retain order.'

'They gave you rule of these lands and you locked them away?' Terese asked.

Keljar waved a hand and yawned, before he answered, 'I did not give you permission to speak. Only the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor may address me. If you make this mistake again, I shall have you beheaded.'

'This is an outrage!' Terese snapped, to which Keljar replied, 'I warned you.' Then he waved to soldiers standing behind the throne as he said, 'Guards, arrest that dark-haired woman. Have her beheaded within the hour.'

Adem reached for his sword hilt as guards stepped to move around Terese. Jean reached for her bow and drew an arrow of emerald flame pointed at the head of one of the guards.

Wil was easing his golden axe out of his belt loop as Hayley drew an arrow of golden flame from her bow. Carl stood with a straight back, though the crimson spear in his grasp began to glow brightly.

'There are five Battle Angels between us, Keljar!' Adem shouted, his hand gripping his still sheathed sword hilt. 'Tell your men to back off or we shall turn you all to ash.'

Keljar laughed at that, a deep booming chuckle that seemed to fill the chamber. Adem then noticed a touch of madness in his visage. After a long pause, the man said, 'I wish no harm upon the Chosen. I simply cannot abide rudeness from those who should crawl in my presence.'

'This woman is Terese Sapphire-Sword, Hero of Will, released from the Harp of Souls and the Shield of Fire!' Jean shouted in outrage.

Keljar's focus became inward at these remarks, rubbing his golden beard for a time before he said, 'My apologies, Lady Sapphire-Sword. I consider you worthy of addressing me, though I would ask that you try to remain civil, or else my edict will be enforced.'

The man was surely mad with power. The question was, could he wield? Silence stretched for a time until Adem spoke up saying, 'Keljar El'Koto, you will swear your service to the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. You will give up your ruling of these lands and these people, so that this region can be restored to order. Your guards will throw down their arms and allow our army to invade—' His voice cut off as he suddenly felt a shield of Air snap closed around him, cutting him off from Angel-Magic!

'I'm shielded!' Jean cried. 'I cannot touch terael!'

'So am I!' Wil shouted, as Hayley said, 'Me too!'

The kings and queens began to groan, evidently fighting to gain a grip on Angel-Magic. They stood in a line, stiff as statues, fighting the bonds of Air-Magic that held them as surely as any rope or chain. Then out of the doorways on either side of the throne room stepped two men in dark coats and trousers.

Alit'aren! Adem thought in surprise.

Two more of the dark-coated men stepped out after, then two more, until twenty of the mortal men stood surrounding either side of Keljar's throne. They were all linked, that was how they were able to cut them all off from Angel-Magic, and hold them with Shield-Magic, while Adem and his friends only held on to a trickle of teron or terael.

They hadn't suspected a trap, which was their mistake. If they had been holding more Angel-Magic perhaps even all twenty of these men couldn't have cut them off from wielding lightning or fire. Perhaps, he thought doubtfully. None of them could release their Battle Angels from their Resting Points without at least a trickle of Angel-Magic. With the Shield-Spell preventing him from touching teron, he was helpless.

Keljar began to chuckle again, a deep booming laughter that seemed to make the walls shake. His voice was being enhanced by Angel-Magic! But whether it was he who could wield, or it was a trick of one of his Alit'aren, Adem could not sense. He felt Angel-Magic resonating from the one who held the lead in the link, a tall man with wide shoulders and tanned skin.

The man held so much of teron he seemed to glow like the sun in the darkness of the room. Finally, Keljar said, 'You have attempted treason, the punishment for which is death! You will be taken to the dungeons, where you shall await your trials and executions.' He then waved to the dozens of soldiers who began to file out from the side doors as he said, 'Take them away.' Something hard struck the back of Adem's skull. Darkness ...

***

Adem crouched in his dark cell, listening to the drip of water through the cracks in the stonework above. He wasn't certain how long he had been imprisoned, hours, days; time moved differently when you were in darkness and pain. He had been severely beaten by the guards, who showed him to his cell, while the Alit'aren who held his Shield-Trap watched over him impassively.

Blood was caked on his brow, from a wound that had opened up above his right eye, and his cheeks were bruised, and his jaw fractured. They had broken his right arm also, which hung feebly by his side. If he didn't receive Healing-Magic soon, the injury would never Heal completely.

He crouched with his back against the wall, his hands tied behind his back with a course rope, balanced on the tips of his toes with his heels raised. He focused his breathing and attempted to find enough calm to meditate, in the hope of finding a crack in the Shield-Spell that cut him off from Angel-Magic. Teron continued to evade him despite those attempts; he could sense Angel-Magic, and he could almost see it in the darkness, but that light always slipped from his grasp each time he reached out for it.

'Your attempts are futile, Adem Highlander,' the red-haired Alit'aren said. He was one of three wielders holding his Shield-Trap. 'Each time you make the attempt to touch teron, you shall face the consequences.'

Suddenly pain flooded his body! A thousand tiny needles of white-hot fire filling his mind and flesh. He screamed in agony; he couldn't have resisted the urge to cry out in pain if he tried. His thoughts were scattered under that force of punishment.

The pain continued, and he screamed again and again; the pain seemed to last an eternity as he begged for the wielder to release him. In his mind, Adem heard an old familiar voice, a voice that made his blood run cold. He wasn't sure if the voice was real, or just a memory, but the voice of Fendinn roared; YOU HAVE LOST, SON OF ODIN!

***

Adem's cell was darker now than he remembered. It was so dark he could no longer see his Alit'aren guards outside the cell bars. Even the bars were hard to see, though a faint light seemed to emanate, to show more depth to his surroundings than the space of the cell. He was still in severe agony; his arm hanging feebly at his side, his jaw and skull aching with a hot throbbing pulse—

His breath caught as a crimson glow appeared in the distance, and he feared it must be a High-Servant. He tried to stand, as the figure that took shape stood taller than any High-Servant he had ever seen, cloaked in darkness with the hood pulled back. He stared in stark horror at that face, carved of white ice exuding gasses that hissed off its skin. Dark eyes huge and glaring with a hatred for Adem's soul, the creature sent out waves of evil that seemed to flay the skin from Adem's flesh, boiling his bones like acid, freezing them to brittle chunks.

'I am called Baegelmeer,' the Souljhin spoke, and the world seemed to tremble. 'You will be given one last chance to join us, or you will die here and now. Still then you will serve, though the High-Jinn has commanded I give you free will, to accept Him as your Supreme Master.'

Adem cackled despite the ache in his jaw. This long without Healing-Magic was taking its toll on his state of mind, though he glared back at the figure with hatred as he shouted, 'Even in death I would never serve your Master. Leave here, now, or I will send you back to your High-Jinn in pieces.'

Baegelmeer drew his blade of crimson and shadow, the dark steel emanating a wicked red light that seemed hot against Adem's face, even though the figure stood further away than the end of his cell. There was no cell anymore, and as Adem fought to stand, the ground below him lit up in a white-hot sheet. A panel of ice or stone that burned with Angel-Magic, arches of gleaming white crystal forming along its edges, the panel and arches stretching off through the shadows into infinity.

Adem was vaguely aware that he must be dreaming, though he knew also it was something quite real, like that dream from the night before first entering Kismeria. He reached for Angel-Magic, knowing his sword was not hanging from his belt, and so then used teron to wield a blade of burning light. Fire and Ice. Steel and Crystal. Stronger and more dangerous than any enchanted weapon. The sword glowed like a beacon, white hot with a tinge of pale blue along its edges, and blue smoke, or mist, or flame trailed off the blade.

Knowing this place was not real also gave him strength, and he used what he had learnt of the Dream Realm from his magic training to instantly make his wounds vanish, so that he stood tall and confident. His back straight, poised and ready to strike.

'You learn quickly, Odin Son,' Baegelmeer said, with a tone of contempt. 'Surely you know there are none alive who could best me with the blades. Not even your precious Immortal Kings would ever stand against me for more than a few moments. Surrender: give up your will to the High-Jinn and this pain and suffering will be over.'

'You speak nothing other than lies to me!' Adem shouted. 'All you can do is lie to buy more time. I will defeat you. I do not need this blade to do so.'

'You speak of your Angel pets, yes? They can do nothing for you here. Even if you had the ability to summon Arawn to fight for you, my skills in this Realm would put him down swiftly. Try it; see if I am telling false words to you now, Odin Son.' Baegelmeer crept ever closer with each word, closing the gap between them. Adem knew once that blade touched him, even in a dream; the consequences would be very bad, so bad in fact that he did not even care to think of how terrible it might be.

He did not bother attempting to wield a sphere of flame or bolt of lightning. There was likely only one spell that could wound this creature. He needed it to be at the right moment, and he could not risk the chance of missing. Baegelmeer crept closer, using his words as a distraction.

'You cannot hope to defeat me, Odin Son. One slight cut of this blade and your life will be over. Though I think perhaps I will prefer to crush your throat till you fight for breath. I can feel your heartbeat quicken. I know you are afraid. Give in, and I shall be merciful.'

'I will resist till the end,' Adem said through clenched teeth.

'So be it!' Baegelmeer said with snarl. The tower of a being lunged forwards, crossing the last few steps as Adem roared, 'Shei'heildorth Alfodr!'

Light sprang from his form, in the shape of snapping pythons that guarded his flesh like a cage of blue flames. Baegelmeer plunged his blade towards a gap in the flames, as three python jaws closed around the blade to push it aside. More pythons snapped jaws around the Souljhin's wrists and throat. A look of terror appeared on that face of malevolence, as a beam of pure blue white shot forth from Adem's chest, thick as his forearm. The light shot out pure and bright, burning heat that lanced through the left side of Baegelmeer's plated black armour. The creature cried out in despair as that burning light tore a gaping wound though his breastplate, melting steel and flesh in a molten glowing pool of burning liquid-light.

Adem felt Angel-Magic flooding his veins to everlasting proportions—a hundred cyclones churning around a thousand volcanoes erupting within his soul—overwhelming him with the ecstasy of teron and the blood-freezing bone-melting corrosion of Jinn-Magic. Light appeared from all around, melting the crystal arches to burning slag. The very path they stood upon began to pool at his feet like white magma. The Odin Spear shot forth six times its size. A beam of the Light from waist to neck striking Baegelmeer in a pure burning horizontal column, that vaporized the form of the creature until its body exploded into a million black and white shards of armour, flesh, blood and bones. The agonized cries of the creature lasted moments after his body was blown to bits, that voice still ringing in Adem's mind as he woke crouched against the wall of his cell, his injuries returned, though he was sure of one thing, 'You have lost, Baegelmeer!'

***

Run and hide like the White Snow Fox, when your enemies are too many.

Fight like the Black Shadow Wolf, when your enemy least expects.

Roar like the Red Fire Lion, when victory is in your grasp.

Fly like the Blue Water Dragon, when the Jinn-Lord rises once more.

Ancient Kismerian Proverb from the Translations of the Ragnarök Cycle, Author: Talmairaine Honshorin, Court Bard of the Nordic Kingdom, from the Age of Rebirth.

The End of the First Book of the Sons of Odin

Book Two of the Sons of Odin

Druantia's Curse

Angel-Magic Edition

L. A. Hammer

Prologue

To Stage a Rescue

Jothar Kelderath sat behind the large carved oak desk within his tent, situated in the heart of the Ael Tarael camp, on the borders of Corsair. He looked over scout reports of the fortifications and soldier positions of the armies of the new Chief of Corsair, Keljar El'Koto.

It was only the first morning after the night that the Saviours and the Immortal Kings and Queens had arrived at Auglem Watch, with a small host of bodyguards, including some wielders, though some of those reports included eye witnesses to the chief sitting in his gilded throne, with the weapons of the Saviours positioned around his body, like ornamental relics. The Aldebrands who had made those sightings—after scaling the fortress walls in the night and peering through the windows of the keep—insisted there could be no mistaking those weapons for any other than the property of Adem Highlander, Carl Wilder, Wil Martyr, and Jean Fairsythe.

Those weapons housed the spirits of the Battle Angels who served the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. They would never leave those weapons unguarded, and certainly never in the hands of this madman El'Koto. So, Jothar's worst fears were confirmed, the Chosen had become prisoners of this mad chief. That the man was mad there could be no doubt, even his soldiers admitted their chief was a rabid wolf that needed to be put out of its misery. Any man who would take the Chosen as prisoners, was madness right down to his boots!

He crumpled the report in his right fist as he shouted for his First Lieutenant to, 'Enter!' Bordin Crempler entered, to salute with a straight spine, as Jothar began to bark orders at the man. Crempler was slightly taller than himself, a fact that irked Jothar every time he stood face to face with the man. Today the young man wore a bright red silk coat, with white cuffs and golden buttons, dark trousers and knee-high leather boots. His angular shaved face and dark eyes gave him the appearance of a loyal hound, with his thick down curving moustache. 'Start moving the men into position!' Jothar shouted. 'Prepare to invade! Take that border riff raff hostage and keep them guarded within the soldiers' camp! Go! Move it man! Now! That's an order!'

The poor fellow twitched nervously at every command, still saluting furiously until he exited with the look of a man who wished he'd never joined the legions. He always looked that way when Jothar was in a mood, and today Jothar was so outraged, he felt he might remove the head of the first man who slipped up in his presence.

No!—It was El'Koto's head he wanted to plant on the end of a spear, to put on display for all the peoples of Auglem Watch to admire, as they cheered for joy at the death of the mad usurper. Yes, he would make it just so, by sunset this day, he would make amends to this travesty. He sat pondering his victory while waiting for those other two. Maldros and Morthros were his least favourite of allies, though he needed their expertise now more than ever. If they began to bicker in his presence, he just might start by taking off either one of their heads. He smiled at the thought of it, a wicked grin ... when suddenly the two men came bustling in through the tent flaps in their armour and cloaks. Maldros wore silvered armour, over a coat with puffy sleeves of blue-and-red stripes, his cloak also blood-red. Morthros wore a dark green coat and cloak, with bronzed armour embossed with charging rams.

The two men looked at one another as if they had been arguing the entire way to his tent. Both appeared quite stricken with grief over the current situation also. To Jothar's shock, both men offered him salutes! So, they were deferring to his leadership at this juncture. He would remind them both of that whenever they strayed in the future.

The scouts had been sent to follow the Saviours on their three-day journey to Auglem Watch. Jothar had sent them as a precaution. Their altherin bred horses had made the same journey back to camp in a matter of hours, though he didn't wish to see the state of the animals after being pushed so hard. It would take a further six days for the entire army to reach the fortified walls, so his only option was to send a small army of wielders on altherin horses, with a substantial guard to protect them, while a rescue team of Aldebrands and Alit'aren try to infiltrate the keep.

They would reach the walls of Auglem Watch by midday, if they allowed the horses to rest for part of the journey. His plan was to arrive in half that time, as they could not waste a single moment. A second wave of soldiers and wielders would arrive by the afternoon, to secure the region in case El'Koto's armies tried to retake the capital. The rest of the camp would make the journey towards Auglem Watch, where they would hold the region until order was restored.

'We await your orders, Jothar.' Maldros said.

'The orders have already been given.' Jothar replied. 'The fate of Kismeria rests on our shoulders, gentlemen. If we fail in this task, all is lost.'

'We have heard your plan of attack, Captain Jothar,' Morthros said with a twitching of his moustache, 'but we see some risks there. What if this El'Koto decides to murder the Sons and Daughter before we can reach them?'

'That is precisely why we must move now!' Jothar barked in irritation. So, it seemed they were not going to let the day pass without judging his every decision as appointed leader! He was hardly surprised at this, though it caused his rage to bubble and stew, like a hot pot over open flames.

'But surely there is still the possibility of reasoning with El'Koto,' Maldros said with obvious strain and extreme concern. 'However mad he may be, he will have to accept that our forces will wipe him out soon enough!'

'In my experience,' Jothar replied through clenched jaws, 'madmen have little care for death or defeat. Of course, I have considered reasoning with the man! I have even sent messengers to attempt such a feat! But I know in my heart that he will not see the sense of reason. He will dig in his heels, and harden his heart, until we are without any other option but to take back our leaders in a desperate struggle.' His last sentence was said with a new level of calm, though his teeth were still clenched, as each word seethed through in pure angst and waning tolerance for such interruptions.

'Well, if you see it that way, we will back you as far as we can go,' Maldros said, after a deep sigh, as Morthros straightened his spine to salute again which gave Jothar pause to relax a little more.

Jothar then used the large map on his desk to run through the marked positions of Jothar's forces, and the army of mostly mortal farmers, belonging to El'Koto. Jothar's forces were marked by blue figurines, taken from a large game of mohrthra'daeghal, while El'Koto's army was displayed with red figurines. Just looking at this example on the map, it was clear Jothar's army was superior in number, and ability, as his was an army formed mostly of Nordics, some of the finest and strongest warriors in all of Kismeria, and the mortal warriors amongst their ranks were also revered as some of the greatest in the land.

It was clear therefore that El'Koto's plan was fatally flawed, and this made Jothar consider the possibility of a grand scheme by Jinn-Fendinn, as even more plausible. However, if Fendinn knew the Sons and Daughter were held helpless in dark prison cells, he would likely have already sent his Souljhin into those prisons.

His intelligence gave no suggestion that this had already occurred, though the possibility of this becoming the next move of the Jinn-Lord caused greater fear, as he suddenly smashed a number of red figurines aside with a swipe of his right hand. He stood fuming at his companions as he began to shout, 'We must move now, gentlemen! The risks are more serious than I had up till now considered. If Fendinn were to learn of this predicament, just think what he might throw against the Sons and Daughter!'

The realisation seemed to dawn upon the two men, who saluted once more with breastplates raised like a pair of plovers, before all three men began to march from the tent with extremely agitated vigour.

***

Talegon Mobritha, Aldebrand and personal bodyguard to King Orion Demon-Slayer, was in a foul mood this morning, as he scaled the walls of Auglem Watch for the second time in a matter of hours. He knew he would have been just as helpless if he had joined the king when they first arrived at the keep, though he still blamed himself for not being there. Garbed in the ghoda'sidhe, black material tightly wrapped about his arms and legs, the only parts of his body that would appear visible—even in broad daylight—were his eyes, and his bright emerald mask and gauntlets of lacquered steel. This was the result of the enchantment upon the warrior garb, identical to the Aldebrand cloaks in its crafting; that made the shadow-like material blend with its surroundings, to create a perfect camouflage. He could have made the disguise more complete by wrapping the same material about his mask and gauntlets, though this interfered with the code of honour that every Aldebrand and Alit'aren lived by.

His only weapon was his longsword strapped across his back, also wrapped in the same camouflage material, except for the golden hilt above his shoulder. Any guards on the walkways who spotted him would take some time before they understood the threat he posed.

Further along the walkway, Kelflax, Orion's other bodyguard, hauled himself over the wall to land and crouch, his mauve mask and gauntlets the only parts of him visible on that stone path. Talegon raised his right gauntlet to signal to Kelflax, raising three fingers and pointing to his right, which meant there were three guards in sight in that direction. Kelflax raised his purple steel gauntlet, with two fingers raised as he pointed in the opposite direction.

Talegon crouched, watching Kelflax creep along the walkway behind one of the soldiers; garbed in dark leather with a steel breastplate, armed with a crossbow. Keeping himself hidden required a twisting of the limbs from time to time to keep the camouflage material facing the sightlines of the enemy. Kelflax was also skilled at moving silently.

When the first soldier fell from the wall, his scream alerted the second. Kelflax drew his sword and charged towards the man, who stood with a confused expression, holding the crossbow bolt pointed downwards. Kelflax's blade glinted in the morning light, denting the steel conical helmet worn by the guard, flecks of blood spurting outwards as the second man fell to his death.

Talegon watched as Kelflax sheathed his blade, and crept onwards along the walkway, towards the staircase that would lead to the dungeons beneath the Keep of Auglem Watch. Talegon crouched and waited as the other three guards began to charge towards him, seeing no danger, only hearing the screams of their fallen comrades. These three had their swords drawn, and they ran in blindly. Talegon was relieved at this, as he would have had trouble dodging their crossbow bolts, if the two behind spotted him while he dealt with the first. He waited, until the first was within reach, and then stood to strike the man across the throat with the blade bone of his right hand. The man stood gasping, his sword clanging to the paved stones. Talegon gripped the man by the shoulder and waist belt, hauling him up and over the wall. The man screamed as he fell. The other two charging men slowed in confusion, still not seeing his form completely.

In that moment Talegon charged forwards, crossing the distance between him and the second guard, drawing his sword as he ran. His blade cleaved through the leather vest worn by the second guard, who fell to his knees as Talegon leapt over him to raise the sword high above the third guard, who was fumbling for his crossbow.

'Mercy!' the guard shouted, as he also fell to his knees, the crossbow falling from his trembling grasp. 'Please, show mercy,' the man begged, raising his palms in prayer position.

'You will show me the location of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor,' Talegon said. 'The Immortal Kings and Queens also, if you attempt to deceive me, you will die slowly and painfully. Do you understand?'

'Yes,' the man said with a relieved expression, 'I will show you where they are, I promise.'

Talegon made a bird noise, a signal to Kelflax. He saw his friend raise his mauve gauntlet. Thunder roared a moment after; Talegon looked to the fields surrounding the keep, seeing Kelderath's horsemen facing a much larger force of farmer warriors.

Though, Kelderath's forces were mostly formed of wielders, Alit'aren to help form shields from arrows and spears—in accordance with the decree—and Ael Tarael to scare this farmer army into submission to avoid bloodshed. The earth heaved, and walls of fire erupted ten feet high, flowing towards the farmer warriors like a golden wave.

Lightning flared in the sky, dozens of blue bolts that moved closer to the defenders of the keep with every strike. It was a warning, and a distraction. Talegon and Kelflax were supposed to have waited for this signal before scaling the walls, though they burnt with rage to rescue their king from this madman El'Koto.

When Kelflax reached him, Talegon turned to explain that they would follow this soldier to the dungeons where they would stage a rescue. 'There are wielders down there,' the soldier insisted. 'Alit'aren, they hold the Shield-Traps over the Chosen. You will need wielders strong at forming Shield-Spells to defeat those men.' Talegon looked left and right to see the ghoda'sidhe masks and gauntlets of more Aldebrands and some Alit'aren reaching the tops of the walls. 'How many hold each Shield-Trap?' Kelflax asked.

'Three linked Alit'aren for every captured wielder,' was the man's nervous reply.

'Gather the Alit'aren strong at wielding Shield-Spells,' Talegon instructed his friend. 'We will attempt to overpower them, one group at a time.'

Something whisked through the air past his face, a crossbow bolt struck the arm of one of the nearby Aldebrands. The man fell to his knees as his form became the shadow-like material, blood gushing from the wound.

'Get those gates open, now!' Talegon shouted. Soldiers began rushing towards them on both sides of the walkway, crossbows raised as they shouted and pointed at the fallen Aldebrand. Talegon leapt for the highest rooftop within the walls of the keep, he landed and rolled off the side of the roof to catch himself with his free hand, clinging to the stone and hanging over forty feet above the pavement. Crossbow bolts whisked past his head, striking the stones where he held his grip.

***

Terese Marheildon, once known as Terese Sapphire-Sword, crouched low in her cell of darkness. The shouts and footfalls alerted her to the presence of guards; she was certain rescue was on its way.

Her immortal ears detected Angel-Magic being wielded on the fields surrounding Auglem Watch, she knew it would be Ael Tarael either intimidating or annihilating the farmer army that stood defending the walls of the keep. She did not hear the screams of men or horses, which suggested those Angel-Magics were only intended to frighten the defenders into submission. A wise plan, it would be difficult to restore order in this region if they began by slaughtering soldiers with Angel-Magic.

Damn that mad bloody fool El'Koto!

It infuriated her that they had been so easily duped by the charade of peace that the mad chief had lured them in with. Fear for Jean's life kept her rage boiling like a hot kettle. There were no Alit'aren to guard her, her limited use of Angel-Magic was not perceived as any kind of threat.

There was little she could do to get herself out of this situation; other than startle the guards with Fire-Magic, so small they would only be an annoyance. In her past lives she had been an Archer of various clans, wielding arrows of fire from a Lukrorian Bow, though she was always more skilled with the sword, and her abilities were always limited to a tiny spark of Angel-Magic, compared to most immortals of that Age. Her only hope was to wait for rescue. She prayed that she could save Jean in time ... and the others.

The Sons of Odin were equally important to fulfilling the Prophecies, though she cared for Jean like the woman was a little sister who needed her protection. Well, Jean needed it now, perhaps more than she ever would again. Terese began to grind her teeth in frustration, wriggling in the ropes that bound her wrists behind her back. She could easily escape those with tiny slices of Fire-Magic to cut through her bonds, and she had done so twice already, which only resulted in a beating by one of the guards. Her rib cage ached; she feared some bones were fractured. It seemed beyond belief that these soldiers would willingly assault women who were not guilty of any crime.

Perhaps they're all mad.

Her breathing became laboured as a result of the pain in her ribs.

She heard shouts in the hallways outside her cell, the guards also heard, though they seemed reluctant to leave her unguarded. Finally, one of the men left though the heavy iron door, the hallway filled with the sounds of clashing steel and the screams of dying men. The sounds were becoming more distant, as if the fight was moving beyond her cell. She decided it must be because she had no wielders hold her with a Shield-Trap. Rescuers would not sense Angel-Magic in this area, so they would move on to cells where they knew Alit'aren were standing guard. Those would be the cells that held the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor, which would be their primary objective.

Her mind began to race at the possibilities of teron being thrown around so close to where Jean was imprisoned. Jean could be torn apart by Angel-Magic during such a battle! I have to get to her, she thought desperately. These fools could bungle any plan no matter how cleverly it was devised.

Then a plan struck her, she wondered how it had taken so long for her to see it. She began to wield Fire-and-Air-Magic, an intricate series of Angel-Spells, first to blend her form with the dark stone walls, as she began to force herself to stand. A slice of Fire-Magic released her from her bonds, then she created even more complex Angel-Magics, to produce a mirror image of herself, formed of Fire-and-Air-Magic, standing outside the cell and facing the guard. The white robed man drew his sword and started to shout, 'How did you manage to escape?' Stepping forward he moved close enough to the prison bars for her plan to succeed.

Her real self, still inside the cage, reached out to pull him towards the bars with both hands. She considered snapping his neck, though she had time to cut off his air supply with an arm around his throat, knocking him out, so she could retrieve his cell keys from his waist belt. She did not like to kill pawns in situations where they could be spared, even this one who had seen to her beating.

He was just following orders, she told herself, as she unlocked the cell door and moved to take his sword. She would have to exercise restraint when facing these Alit'aren who held Jean captive, provided she was able to secure wielders to create Shield-Spells to hold the traitors. To run them through with the blade would be to go against the decree of the Immortal Kings, that even mad or evil Alit'aren must be spared if they could be captured rather than killed.

Just following orders, she thought to herself, grinding her teeth as she opened the door to peer into the hallway of darkness and terrified screams.

***

Tobin Fire-Heart, King of the Nordics, listened to the sounds of battle taking place in the hallways surrounding his cell. Rescue would come soon, and he would have vengeance against the mad fool El'Koto for this injustice. He feared for the safety of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor, for the hope of Kismeria rested on their shoulders, yet his greatest fear was that his dear wife Lydia may be badly wounded, or worse ... He stood from his crouched position; his hands bound behind his back with a course rope. The Shield-Trap held by the three linked Alit'aren outside his cell made it impossible for him to touch teron.

If he could reach for Angel-Magic, he would fill this hallway with blasts of flame; stripping flesh from these traitorous bones. Still, three linked mortal wielders of their strength were sufficient to keep Angel-Magic beyond his reach, though he did try, despite the pain they sent through his flesh, like thousands of white-hot needles inside his body and mind. He ignored the pain. He laughed at them; snarled like a feral wolf.

'Release me!' he bellowed. 'If my wife has been harmed, you will hang before the sun sets this day!'

One of the men shouted from the shadows, 'Silence, Tobin Fire-Heart!' More pain followed, pulsating through his mind and flesh. The punishment lasted so long this time, he thought he might cry out to beg for mercy. Suddenly the pain vanished—and in that stunned moment that the Alit'aren began to groan in the shadows—he felt the Shield-Trap vanish also, allowing him to reach for Angel-Magic.

Teron flooded his veins, frozen rivers and burning rain, the ropes fell away from his hands. The Alit'aren outside his cell must have been held by Shield-Spells crafted by other wielders in the hallway. Tobin's thirst for vengeance overpowered his restraint. A ball of flame hovered in midair outside the cell, giving him clearer view of the three Alit'aren in their dark coats and trousers. He harnessed enough Angel-Magic to melt the iron bars to burning slag within seconds. As he was stepping over the hissing sludge of the ruined cell, the hallway door opened to reveal the face of Terese Sapphire-Sword, wielding a steel sword and followed by two Aldebrands in a purple and jade mask of the ghoda'sidhe.

'Where is King Orion?' The emerald masked one asked, Tobin recognising the voice as Talegon, one of Orion's bodyguards. The other was surely Kelflax.

'I don't know,' Tobin said, as he moved to draw a sword from the belt of one of the Alit'aren. 'I must find my wife first. Who will help me?' Talegon and Kelflax made vexed noises through their masks—they would be anxious to rescue Orion and Elmira—then both bowed their heads as Talegon said, 'Of course, we will search for your wife, King Tobin.'

'We are looking for Jean first and foremost,' Terese interjected. 'Any we find before then will be rescued, but we question every guard we can capture as to the location of the Daughter of Thor.'

'Lead the way,' Tobin said, with a slight tilt of his head; a sign of submission to her demands.

***

Orion Demon-Slayer, King of the Torvellen, strode through the hallways of the dungeons of Auglem Watch like a phantom. He held more Angel-Magic than he should have without the aid of a Battle Angel, or a wielding artefact to enhance his control, but he did not care for the risks. His soul burned to find his wife.

'Elmira?' he cried; flinging a spell of Fire-Magic at the seven guards that charged towards him. The bolt flew through their silvered breastplates—an arrow of golden flame as thick as his forearm—to blast all seven into ashes that floated and flared in the dark hallway.

Behind him marched the five Alit'aren who had rescued him from his cell. They had wielded Healing-Magic for his bruises, and the fracture in his skull where he was struck when first captured. The three traitorous Alit'aren who had held his shield before then were wrapped in chambers of Fire-Magic the moment Orion was able to wield. With teron flooding his veins, Jinn-Magic was enhanced to amounts that made him want to vomit in disgust. Jinn-Magic filled his mind also, making him dance on the precipice of sanity—he unleashed another spell that enveloped four guards in a tunnel of burning emerald, the men melted into vapour in a flickering halo—as he fought for control of his wits within the ecstasy of teron. 'Elmira!' he shouted. 'Elmira! Where are you my love?'

Chapter 1

Out of Darkness

'Silence, Adem Highlander!' Ekron shouted, stepping forward into the amber torchlight. Pain flooded Adem's mind and body, hot filaments of energy, like holding onto an electric fence. He screamed in agony, begging them to stop, when suddenly the pain ended, and at the same time his Shield-Trap vanished!

As he reached for Angel-Magic—rivers of lava and hail of ice rushed through his core, Jinn-Magic so foul he had to heave for breath—his hands were cut free, a ball of light appeared in midair amongst the three Alit'aren. They were held by Shield-Spells crafted from Angel-Magic, and their hands were tied at their sides with folds of Air-Magic.

He gestured with his left hand, a pushing motion that flung the cell door off its hinges with a flash of sparks. He drew the sword that hung from the belt of one of the Alit'aren.

His right arm was useless, and he had received little training to wield a blade using only his left hand, but it gave him some sense of security. He opened the door to the hallway with keys taken from the same Alit'aren, peering out into a scene of shadows and fire. Orion walked surrounded by a blue-white nimbus, his dark eyes looked crazed. The tall man gestured towards a number of soldiers who charged down the hallway, and a moment later those men were wreathed in walls of emerald fire. Their screams were filled with agony.

The wielder moved closer towards Adem's door, with more warriors garbed in the ghoda'sidhe behind him. In the torchlight, Adem made out the face of the man who held more Angel-Magic than any man should hold unaided.

Orion looked like another person, Jinn-Magic and teron a clear battle in his expression of ecstasy and disgust. Though, it was his rage that burnt in his eyes.

'Adem Highlander?' The king asked with a confused expression, still holding more Angel-Magic than Adem would be capable of, even if he was aided by his Battle Angel.

'Yes ... it's me,' Adem said. 'You should release ... some Angel-Magic.'

'Not until my wife is safe,' Orion replied. 'Where is she? I have searched for hours in this maze of dungeons.'

'I'm ... not sure,' Adem answered, 'but ... I will ... help you find her. But first, could you ... provide Healing-Magic for me please? My arm, it's broken, and ... my jaw.'

'Of course,' Orion said, then he clasped Adem by the shoulder, rivers of ice flooded his mind and soul, he trembled, then convulsed, then struggled to keep his arms at his sides as he felt the bones forming back together by the magic of teron. He gasped for breath, feeling young again.

'Thank you,' Adem said, as he reached for the sword hilt with his right hand, wielding levels of teron into the blade until it shone emerald blue. 'You lead the way,' he suggested, as he didn't want to be in the firing line between the enemy guards and the amount of Angel-Magic that Orion still held. Adem was desperate to find Jean, and his friends, the thought of losing any of them gripped him with fear. But he would not argue with that ferocity in the eyes of the Torvellen King. It was the look of a man in the grip of a mad rage, a burning desire to turn his enemies to vapour, which he continued to do every time they were confronted by guards within the dark tunnels.

Adem wasn't sure what Jean would say about one of the Immortal Kings breaking the laws of the new decree; he just knew he wouldn't be the one to tell of what he had seen occur on this day.

***

Jean listened to the sounds of battle. She sat on the hard bench within the darkness, her hands bound. Three Alit'aren guarded her cell, their faces hidden by shadows unless one of them stepped into the torchlight. The three men were nervous now, also listening to the screams of men dying from what she guessed were attacks unleashed by wielders.

She had sensed the incredible pain felt by the three Sons of Odin during their captivity however, especially Adem's torture. Her sense of his relief was the sure sign that he'd escaped, though she could also detect him moving towards her cell.

She knew Adem would not let her down, nor would Terese. She regretted not sharing the kigare with Terese also. Perhaps she could find a way to bind their senses with a spell, to link their minds for greater security during just such situations. Of course, the woman would then know immediately if Jean ever bedded Adem again.

If I ever get out of here alive.

Suddenly, she felt her Shield-Trap vanish! She reached for terael and Angel-Magic flooded her veins. The three men began to shout curses; obviously they had been overpowered and were now held by Shield-Spells. She created three new Shield-Traps. She sealed the spells; then she demanded, 'Release me!'

Two of the men were bound in walls of Air-Magic also, so they were unable to move, though she allowed the key holder to walk to the cell to open the door, after she gave the threat of, 'Unlock this door or I'll burn you alive!' It was just a threat of course; she didn't have it in her to resort to such violence against human beings, especially such innocent youths as these three were.

Her hands had been freed the moment she touched Angel-Magic. The young man fumbled for the keys and opened the lock with trembling hands.

'Don't hurt us, please,' he pleaded, after she was free of the cell. She immediately bound the third male with Air-Magic, so his hands were locked at his sides, then she took the keys from his fingers and moved to open the large iron door that enclosed her quarters.

The first face she saw in the hallway of shadows and fire was Terese, charging towards her shouting, 'Jean, thank heavens you're alright!' Jean stepped into the hallway to see King Tobin striding behind her with a host of Aldebrands and Alit'aren following, all garbed in the black wrappings and brightly coloured masks of the ghoda'sidhe.

She heard a shout behind her; and turned to see a guard charging towards her with his sword raised. A bolt of lightning flew past her head to strike the man, sending him flying in the opposite direction in a ball of blue fire. She turned back to see that it was Tobin who had cast the bolt. Blue fire still burnt in his palms.

'You mustn't wield Fire-Spells, even to save my life, King Tobin.' Jean said. 'I cannot protect you from the new laws. Even a king must suffer his fate if he disobeys the decree.'

'You would prevent me from wielding?' Tobin asked with a puzzled expression.

'That is in accordance with the law.' Jean replied. 'Please, you must not do more than wield Shield-Spells of Air-Magic. These men are witnesses to your crime, if I allow you pardon it will suggest the rules may be broken under special circumstances.'

'But that would be a death sentence,' Terese said. 'He was only trying to save your life, the life of the Daughter of Thor! Be reasonable, Jean. Tobin is a great king. He cannot suffer such a fate.' The woman's eyes were pleading; she would see the necessity of his act and hope that Jean could forgive him. But Jean had to uphold the law, it was her duty. She looked behind the men, down the hallway, to see the bodies of guards still writhing in agony. Flames licked along their flesh and bones.

'If this is your doing, Tobin Fire-Heart,' Jean said, 'you will face due punishment.'

'They have my wife!' the man shouted in outrage. 'I tried to conform to the laws, but there were too many of them. We were outnumbered. I must save Lydia.' His words were desperate at the last.

'We will find your wife, Tobin.' Jean said. 'Do not wield Fire-Magic again in my presence. I may be able to keep you alive if you follow my orders.'

***

Carl marched through the dark tunnels of the dungeons, four Alit'aren behind him as he moved with the temper of a lion on edge. They would form Shield-Spells to protect him if he was in any danger, though with the amount of teron he held, there was little chance of that.

He had ripped off his cell door with Air-Magic, as soon as the three Alit'aren who guarded his cell were held with Shield-Traps. Those three would be unable to move until he returned to release the spells.

He would not let his temper turn him into a murderer, when there was the option of preserving life. These traitors deserved a fair trial, perhaps then they would be prevented ever wielding teron again, a sure death sentence, though that was more humane than burning them alive.

The guards he had confronted during his search through the dungeons had been dealt with by similar means. He bound them in Shield-Spells, trapping them as surely as if they were frozen stiff. He was only strong enough with Air-Magic, due to his knowledge gained from the life of the High Druid—during his experience in the Chameleon Arch—and as a result of his link with the four Alit'aren who had rescued him, their strength in Angel-Magic passed onto him for the most part.

Behind the Alit'aren walked Hayley Martyr and Queen Lydia, both also rescued from their cells by the same four wielders. They would be more effective against these guards and traitor Alit'aren, due to their willingness to wield Fire-Magic to vanquish their enemies, though Carl would not allow such destruction of human life. He saw it as his duty to protect the souls of those two women also. They were unharmed, which was a great relief to him. He feared what Wil and Tobin might be capable of if their wives were badly injured. They often found congealed dark corpses licked with flames and the scent of burning flesh.

They approached a cell door. He sensed the three male wielders within that area. Teron flooded his veins and he wielded Shield-Traps to surround the three Alit'aren behind the door. He felt their hold on Angel-Magic vanish as he locked the Shield-Traps. There were no other male wielders in there, he could sense it. He broke the lock on the door with Earth-and-Fire-Magic, then pushed the door inwards to reveal the three men frozen with their arms at their sides. He could only make out one of their faces in the torchlight, though that young man looked terrified and the other two groaned with despair. 'I won't harm you,' Carl said. 'Who is your prisoner?'

'The Torvellen Queen is here,' the first young man replied, dark of hair and eyes. Carl wielded a ball of blue light that hovered in the air in front of the cage, revealing Queen Elmira, in her blue silk gown and white cloak. Her jewels had been taken from her evidently, as was the case with Hayley and Lydia. The mad fool El'Koto obviously followed some of the rules of revolution, taking from the rich with the premise of giving to the less fortunate. Though Carl suspected the man would use the wealth to build his armies in an effort to conquer the world.

Delusions of grandeur, he thought to himself.

He gestured to unlock the cage and make the door swing outwards.

***

Wil's eyes shot open, Angel-Magic flooding his veins. It was the familiar ice-cold trickling of terael flowing through him. He trembled from the force of the Healing-Magic, the most violent spasms he had ever experienced, which was no surprise, as his wound was deep. He gasped for air when the feeling left him, his focus returned, to allow him to make out the face of the woman in the shadows. It was Jean. He looked around his body to see a large pool of blood, so much he wondered how he had held on this long.

He realised when he woke that it was Jean's voice that he had heard. 'Thank you,' he said, after a few breaths. 'You saved me. How can I repay you?'

'By helping us get out of here,' that was Terese's voice; he made out her dark braid surrounded by a nimbus behind Jean.

'I must find Hayley first,' he said, as he tried to stand, and then he collapsed from the incredible pain that still filled his chest, like a hole of fire. Two Aldebrands moved to pick him up and put his arms over their shoulders, he recognised their eyes through the green and mauve masks they wore, Talegon and Kelflax. 'We cannot leave without Hayley!' he said, through short breaths. 'Will you find her, Jean?'

'You require an expert Healer-Magician.' Jean said. Wil had formed a Shield-Spell a half-second too late to stop a crossbow bolt from punching through his chest. 'I promise I will find your wife and bring her out of here alive and well.' Then she gave orders to Talegon and Kelflax to take him to the surface. He passed more Aldebrands and Alit'aren in black garb and coloured masks and gauntlets, as well as King Tobin in his dark blue silk robe and black cloak. His crown was missing, and his eyes appeared filled with the same despair that Wil felt in the search for his wife. Then he heard Jean shout down the hallway, 'Tobin, go with Wil and guard him.'

'I'm not leaving without Lydia!' Tobin bellowed.

'That's an order!' Jean snapped back at him. 'You mustn't wield any element other than Air-Magic. I will question Talegon and Kelflax to learn if you disobeyed me, now go!' To Wil's pure amazement, the Immortal King obeyed her. He raised the steel sword in his grasp to hold it vertical in front of his face as he gave a short bow, then turned and began to stride down the hallway, with two more Alit'aren following.

'This way, Wil Martyr,' Tobin said. 'I shall lead us to safety.'

***

Adem watched Orion turn a group of guards into pillars of flame with a gesture. The immortal must have taken down over fifty men in such a way since Adem had begun to follow him. The five guards were standing with swords and axes in their hands one minute, then they were screaming as red flames wreathed their forms, arms wide and bodies falling as the scent of burnt flesh swept down the hall. Their search had been pointless, however.

Everywhere they went they found either empty cells, or more guards needing punishment. Behind them marched more Alit'aren and Aldebrands, who protected the rear with Shield-Magic, and more than once they had been forced to protect Adem and Orion from guards wielding crossbows. If Adem had his way, the Alit'aren would be allowed to use any means of force necessary to ensure the safety of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.

They turned a corner to see four guards with crossbows aimed. The bolts flew towards Adem and Orion as they both wielded Air-Shields, like a transparent wall of stone. The four bolts struck the invisible Shield-Spell, two of them punching through the wall, but the shafts were frozen halfway. In the same moment Orion gestured towards the men, his right hand squeezing into a fist. The four guards exploded into fountains of blood, body parts flying in all directions.

Adem was sickened by what he saw, though he also saw the way those Angel-Magics were formed, and he stored that information away like precious gems. The man's rage was at boiling point, the poor guards becoming helpless victims whenever they stood in his path. Adem wondered if he could become so heartless and cruel at times when Jean's life was in danger. He was worried for her now, though his sense of her through the kigare was that she was free. He knew when he sensed her start to wield, the flood of emotions a sure giveaway of her holding Angel-Magic.

Shouts were heard up ahead, and then from behind, guards were charging in from both sides. Dozens of white robed soldiers began to file down the hallway; he looked behind to see just as many. Most were armed with swords, axes or spears, though others wielded crossbows.

Orion gestured; a bar of liquid blue light flew towards the men in front, the bar struck the first guard in the silvered breastplate; erupting out the back of the man in the pattern known as Fire Serpents. Lightning surged through the chests and out the backs of the columns of soldiers, the men screaming as they fell, scorched and twitching like sprayed insects. That occurred before Adem turned to face the guards behind them, the Alit'aren also facing them and wielding Shield-Spells.

Crossbow bolts flew to strike the wall of Air-Magic, two punching through halfway. Adem gestured to the guards, wielding two Jade Warriors that stood eight feet tall. The emerald samurai warriors charged down the hallway; slicing bodies into piles of flesh fit for a butcher shop. It only lasted a matter of seconds. There was no way he could have avoided killing those men, they were outnumbered and even linked he would not have been able to hold all of them with Air-Magic. He realised he could become just as deadly as Orion.

He turned back to see the carnage of Orion's Angel-Magic, piles of bodies with holes burnt through their chests. That had to be the last of their reserves. Their escape was almost assured. His sense of Jean then was that she was making her way to the surface. He hoped that meant she had found the others. He said to Orion, 'Follow me.'

Chapter 2

Into the Light

Adem reached the surface level of the dungeons, to find that Jean had played a major role in the rescue effort. Terese shadowed her, as usual, the dark-haired woman standing with her arms crossed under her breasts as she marched beside Jean step for step. Wil was badly wounded and lying on his back, waiting for the skills of an Ael Tarael with expertise in Healing-Magic. His eyes were closed and his breathing slow, as if he barely held onto life.

Occasionally his eyes would flicker open with a look of dread, until Hayley arrived to put his mind at ease. Aldebrands carried Wil to the higher levels of the keep, towards the place where their Battle Angels resided in their Resting Points. The enchanted weapons stood leaning against the sides of El'Koto's throne, including Hayley's golden bow. Obviously, the madman had planned on using the Battle Angels in his quest to conquer the Free Lands.

Their other weapons were found in large chests in rooms nearby. Adem was relieved when he closed his hand around the golden hilt of his enchanted blade; and felt his connection with Arawn increase dramatically. He had barely been able to detect the words Arawn sent through the kigare, during his time in prison. Now he heard the Battle Angel remark; I blame myself for not seeing the trap, Son of Odin. Forgive me.

Adem sent his reply. We were taken by surprise, no one is to blame. Regardless of this, Adem felt it had been his own fault. This would be a lesson to remember, they could not take chances by putting trust in strangers.

Jothar Kelderath and his small force of wielders had taken the city hostage, some time before Adem reached the surface. Wil received the Healing-Magic he required from an Ael Tarael in El'Koto's throne room. The woman had a determined expression, with the tanned skin of a Torvellen, though she was Nordic, as her golden hair suggested. Dorelda Motolari was her name; Kelderath had brought a handful of expert Healing-Magic Ael Tarael with the first wave of warriors. Lydia and Elmira had been reluctant to attempt to try to save Wil, once they had a good look at the wound. Dorelda sealed that wound however, making flesh and muscle reform. Wil was on his feet moments after, looking half dazed and complaining of hunger. Adem was also famished, though his focus was on securing Auglem Watch.

El'Koto was in chains and being watched by some of Kelderath's soldiers, as well as Aldebrands and Alit'aren. Two Ael Tarael also formed the guard, in case there was a need. The mad chief looked forlorn when the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor stood before him, holding the weapons he had so deviously coveted. When Adem asked the man if he had anything to say in his defence, El'Koto replied, 'I only wished to keep the Saviours safe, before their time to face Jinn-Fendinn. So much depends on you four ... without you ... there is no hope ... there is nothing.' His face took on that look of madness as his gaze became inward.

Yet he had ordered our executions, Adem thought to himself. Truly a madman then!

'How did you recruit the Alit'aren?' Jean asked.

'They wished to serve a ruler who would allow them to wield teron whenever they wished.' El'Koto replied, a firmness returning to his voice, as if he were ruler once more. 'They came from Rutheldor; months before the new laws were passed, seeking refuge from the threat of revolution.'

'So, you used their strength to intimidate the rulers of Auglem Watch to hand the city over to you,' Jean said. 'A clever plan, the only flaw I can see is that these Alit'aren would surely become madmen.' El'Koto shrugged his shoulders at that, his expression suggesting a sickly feeling, most likely in his skull. The fact that so many Alit'aren could put their trust in this lunatic, showed just how dangerous the conflict between male wielders and the rest of the Free Lands was going to be. They longed for a strong leader, who could provide them with a goal, other than destroying the world. But what they also hoped for; was a leader who would provide them with immunity from the new decree. They were terrified of living in a world in which all of their abilities were taken away. They saw it as the beginning of the end.

And they could be right about that, Adem thought to himself, Arawn making no reply. Adem's sense of his Battle Angel was the usual brooding, descending into fire with a frozen heart. 'Take him to the dungeons,' Adem commanded. 'He will await his trial and meet his fate for his betrayal.'

For the next few hours, the first wave of soldiers and Ael Tarael secured the city, relieving the guards of their duty, and handing the protection of Auglem Watch over to Kelderath's forces. The crowns and jewellery that were stolen from his friends were returned, with apologies from the servants bearing them. Jean and Terese held the throne room, while Adem, Carl and Wil patrolled the city streets with Hayley, Orion and Tobin. Lydia and Elmira also remained with Jean, to see that order was restored within the keep. Adem guessed that Lady Elise Caravine would be appointed head ruler of Auglem Watch in good time.

Adem kept his hand hovering above his sword hilt as he strolled through the streets, Carl pacing beside him, using his red spear like a walking staff. Wil and Hayley marched behind, their eyes scanning in every direction like wolves on edge. Tobin and Orion marched proudly, striding with the grace and nobility that only two kings could manage. There were no casualties amongst Kelderath's forces, all wounds received Healing-Magic in time and then they saw to providing Healing-Spells for El'Koto's forces. They would not let good men die if they could be saved. These men were simply servants to a tyrant; they were not guilty of El'Koto's betrayal.

When they returned to the throne room, Jean and the other women had found a number of other relics, tucked away in chests that sparked his interest. One was a horn made of pure silver, with gold rings around the tip and base, and a golden ram scrawled across the middle. On closer inspection, Adem sensed the presence of a Battle Angel using the horn as a Resting Point. His sense of the spirit told him it was a male Battle Angel, confirmed by Arawn through the kigare. It was the spirit of Balor Evil-Eye.

When he summoned Balor, a ten feet tall figure of light and shadows appeared, a man with a flowing white beard and moustaches of fire, glowing blue armour and boots over dark-scaled coat and trousers. He wore a conical helmet of blue fire that surrounded the eyes—giving him the appearance of a great, one-eyed owl—one blue fire, the other dark as tar, with thick twisted bull horns that were brown and ribbed, rising out of the steel skull cap. Balor gripped a massive double-bladed blue axe in his huge palms, holding the weapon across his body as he bowed in salute to Adem. 'Balor the Invincible, Father of War, I give greeting. I am one of the Sons of Odin. Will you commit yourself to serve me, as my Battle Angel Aldebrand?' The titles he gave Balor were provided by Arawn.

Balor grumbled like a great bear for some time, stroking his beard before he replied; 'I will commit to serve, Son of Odin. Before now, there were none I deemed worthy of my strength. However, Arawn confirms to me that you are one of the Chosen. I accept.' Balor's voice was almost thunderous like the Hex-Warlords. He then returned to the silver horn in a cloud of colour and a white flare. Adem blinked, half dazed, and then tied the horn to his belt loop.

The next hour was spent looking over the piles of treasure, seeking out the artefacts that contained more Battle Angels. Jean found a small stone statue that looked to be made from ivory, a figurine of a swan with wings folded back as if floating on the water. The trinket fit neatly into her belt pouch and was the Resting Point of Anwen—or Branwen as she was known as the sister of Bran the Blessed—a seven feet tall figure of emerald and aqua fire in a shimmering gown and crimson armour. She wielded a staff like an untrimmed tree branch, with leaves of many colours at the tips; birds of fire nesting in the branches. Long golden locks and a peaceful face, her skin was pale cream and her figure was quite voluptuous. Jean said the correct words to request her service and the Great Angel accepted, transporting herself to the Resting Point of Jean's blue glowing sword. She kept the trinket however; perhaps she saw that it had a use as another potential Resting Point. Though, Jean didn't find another Battle Angel.

Carl found a small dagger that contained the spirit of Angus Mac, also known as Oengus Og. The Battle Angel was dressed in dark cloth with a green-and-red kilt, silver armour with snakes embossed across the chest, and he wielded a staff of emerald light. Carl explained that Angus was said to be highly skilled at Healing-Magic.

Wil found a ring of gold with a fat cut ruby that was the Resting Point for Bran the Blessed, sister of Anwen and brother of Angus. It didn't seem unusual that three family members could be found together in this horde of relics. Bran was eight feet tall, dark shoulder length hair with large blue eyes, skin of pale blue and mauve armour. He wielded a shield of golden light and a broadsword of emerald flames.

Adem also found Llew Llaw Gyffes. The Battle Angel stood over twelve feet tall, a figure of muscular blue arms and legs, golden scaled armour that glowed orange over his chest and torso, his hair flowing blue fire and his eyes were white light. He wore a golden crowned helmet that surrounded his eyes and jaw like a face guard, with long bison horns moving out horizontal on either side of the skull. Llew wielded a long sword of blue flames—over eight feet long—and carried a massive rectangular shield of red light. A cape of blue fire flowed around his form, that was embroidered with gold patterns of wolves. The gigantic figure towered above Adem as he spoke the words of request, 'Llew Llaw Gyffes, Brother of War, I request your service to me.' Llew responded with, 'The Sons of Odin are the key to victory over Jinn-Fendinn at the Ragnarök Battle. I will gladly serve you until that end.' Adem then presented his blue enchanted bow for the Battle Angel to use as a Resting Point. He had found Llew residing in a golden statue that looked similar to the fat bellied, smiling Buddhist monk teachers most commonly known as a Buddha statue. He wrapped the relic in dark cloth and had it sent to be stored with his belongings.

The next six days were spent inside the walls of Auglem Watch, while the forces that had already arrived made camp around the city. On the seventh day Jean declared Auglem Watch secure, and she began to unleash her wrath against the two Immortal Kings, for their actions during their escape. Her next move was going to shake the foundations of everything Kismeria held sacred.

Chapter 3

The Death of Two Kings

Jean called to order an official trial for Tobin Fire-Heart and Orion Demon-Slayer. Adem thought the move was desperate, in an attempt to uphold the new laws that outlawed male wielding, though he did not argue with her decision. The trial was held in one of the large pavilion sized tents, on the seventh night since the rescue. Tobin and Orion came to the meeting in their bright silk robes and dark velvet cloaks, lined with black-spotted fox-fur. They wore their jewelled crowns and their swords at their golden-medallion waist belts. They looked every bit the kings they were, esteemed and glorious. Lydia and Elmira were equally bright in silk gowns and woollen cloaks, their jewellery shimmering in the lantern light.

They brought twelve Ael Tarael to stand as witnesses to the trial, seven dark coated Alit'aren also stood along the walls of the tent, with hands clasped behind their backs. They all wore swords, their only weapons. The faces of those men were humbled when Jean began to tear into Tobin and Orion for their crimes. Jean had also brought another twelve Ael Tarael, who would hold judgement over the two Immortal Kings. The women filled most of the tent space in their bright silks and glimmering jewels. All stood with the expressions of those who wished to be anywhere other than here. The twelve Jean had chosen were all mortal Ael Tarael, Lydia and Elmira had brought twelve immortals.

'We stand here today to make judgement over Tobin Fire-Heart and Orion Demon-Slayer, for breaking the oath of the new decree, that restricts all male wielders from touching teron, except to wield Shields-Spells of Air-Magic.' That was how Jean began the trial, followed by bringing forth witnesses who saw Tobin and Orion wielding fire and lightning, to destroy mortal men inside the dungeons of Auglem Watch. When Jean called forth Adem, he cringed at the thought of betraying either Jean, or Tobin and Orion. Adem stepped forward to wait for questioning from Jean. Up till now all of her witnesses had been very forthcoming in their admitting to seeing the two kings wield Angel-Magic. Adem wished to do something before Jean made the mistake of her life and ordered that Tobin and Orion be blocked from ever wielding teron again. 'You were with Orion in the dungeons during the escape?' Jean began, to which Adem replied, 'I was.'

'And did you see Orion wield Fire-Magic and Earth-Magic to kill soldiers loyal to El'Koto?'

'I did,' Adem admitted, feeling a sinking feeling in his heart after deciding he could not betray Jean, especially when she needed his support in such an important decision. 'But he acted with nobility, saving the lives of those loyal to us, including providing Healing-Magic to me when I was seriously injured. I think these men deserve partial forgiveness for their crimes, and a lighter sentence.' Jean stared into his eyes like boring holes through his skull with invisible flames as she admitted, 'I also witnessed such Angel-Magics being wielded by Tobin, once it was even to save my life. I understand that to order these men be prevented from wielding teron, is an almost certain death sentence, and the great King of the Nordics, and the mighty King of the Torvellen, will fade from memory in the minds of the mortals, becoming a myth of ancient days.

'Kismeria will be lost without strong leadership, but the new laws must be upheld, or we will invite anarchy when we attempt to judge others more harshly. Do either of you have anything to say before judgement?' Tobin and Orion looked to one another, with nervous expressions, and then Tobin said, 'I only wished to save the lives of my wife, and the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.'

'Do you have anything to add, Orion?' Jean asked, with a raised brow.

'We were ambushed,' Orion said, 'all of our lives were at stake, the fate of Kismeria! We cannot be judged. We are the Immortal Kings of Tarvel and Nordhel! Angel-Magic has been a part of our world since the First Age. We live to serve the All-Father and now to serve you, Daughter of Thor, and you would hold judgement over us for this service? They took my wife! They could have killed her! If Elmira had died, I would have gone to join the rebel Alit'aren. I would have left the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor to fight their own battles! I would have led an army of men who were still free to wield Angel-Magic!

'I would have faced Fendinn at the Ragnarök Battle, using the gifts that were granted to our world! We are lost and without hope if the Alit'aren are restricted in their wielding! The decree must be revoked!' He delivered the speech like a king, but also like a man enraged, a man on the brink of sanity. Both of Jean's and also Terese's eyebrows rose considerably during that speech, though Jean did not back down one bit as she said, 'I move to pass judgement that the two Immortal Kings should lose their crowns and their land, their kingdoms and their kingship. To become Aldebrands to serve as protectors to Lydia Ever-Light and Elmira Golden-Braid, who will also lose their titles as a lesson for them that they should keep a tighter rein on their husbands.' That pronouncement brought shocked murmurs from almost everyone in the tent, Tobin and Orion staring with outraged faces, Lydia and Elmira looking as if they were about to faint in sheer disbelief. 'Who will stand with me, to enforce this judgement?' Jean asked; her eyes still boring holes through Adem's skull. There was a long silence, everyone's eyes fixed on him or Jean. He realised if he didn't speak up now, he might lose her forever, so he said, 'I will enforce this judgement, as one of the Chosen. I offer my full support first and foremost, in the hope that it will sway others to agree with your decision, Daughter of Thor.' That brought a slight smirk to her lips, and her eyes took on a wicked new burning. He told himself he'd made the right decision there.

Tobin and Orion groaned, both knowing his move would hold influence over the others. Carl was next to offer support, followed by Hayley and Wil. That was the beginning of the cascade of votes, as hands began to rise and the twelve mortal Ael Tarael began to speak saying, 'I will pass judgement!' Adem looked to the faces of the Immortal Kings and Queens after all twelve women had agreed, when Jean said, 'If the twelve immortal witnesses will also agree, it will save these men from certain death, for if this cannot be agreed upon, they shall be blocked from Angel-Magic.' That brought the twelve Immortal Ael Tarael around to a forced full agreement to her decision. 'Then it is done.' Jean said. 'I strip you of your titles and your land. You are no longer king or queen of any land, and you have no homes and no fortune. Your coffers will be given to the armies of the Chosen. Your kingdom shall bar its doors to your arrival, and you shall never set foot in its halls ever again, unless under the supervision of the Sons of Odin or the Daughter of Thor.' That brought exasperated sighs from Lydia and Elmira, Tobin and Orion looked as if Jean had fired crossbow bolts through their hearts. But Jean wasn't finished yet.

'You will no longer lead armies and you will no longer give commands. You shall serve your Ael Tarael wives as Aldebrands, to protect their lives as they uphold justice. As Aldebrands you shall be allowed to touch teron, once a week, to practice forming Shield-Spells of Air-Magic. If I learn that either of you have touched teron to use any other spell, from now until the Ragnarök Battle, you shall be prevented from ever wielding again!' Her tone was cold as ice, though her eyes still burnt with fury. 'Strip these men and women of their crowns and their jewellery. They are no longer nobility; they are common folk. You shall not look upon them with awe any longer. You will watch them like hawks for any sign of conspiracy, and you shall only address them by their true titles, Tobin Fire-Heart, Lydia Ever-Light, Orion Demon-Slayer, and Elmira Golden-Braid.' Those last remarks brought glimmers of forgiveness in the eyes of the four she had passed judgement over. She had shown enough mercy to allow them to keep their names of legend. Most would have still regarded them as such, and most would have addressed them by such titles if Jean wasn't in earshot, though these new rules she pronounced would see that they avoided such honouring, if they knew Jean would find out about it. In a few minutes, Jean had destroyed two nations, broken two kingdoms and left them without rulers.

'This will fuel a war of succession.' Lydia said, with hardness to her tone. 'Kismeria will be bathed in bloodshed, the lands will become as they were during the Immortal Wars, when famine, disease, pestilence and war plagued this world. You will be responsible for this, Jean Fairsythe. It was your decision to make, and you Carl Wilder, for inventing the decree.' Those words sounded like a judgement of her own; though Jean simply replied, 'The new laws must be enforced, and an example had to be made.'

Adem glanced back at Carl and Wil over his shoulders; they both looked as perplexed as the former kings and queens. Hayley wore that sly look to her eyes, though she also appeared deep in thought, and equally concerned. The Ael Tarael then began to parade around the four who were judged, stripping them of their crowns and jewellery. Jean told them they may work or trade for new jewels, though they were never to wear a crown again. They were allowed to keep their clothing on for the sake of modesty, though Tobin and Orion were told that they would only wear Alit'aren black, or the ghoda'sidhe or torin'sidhe, from now onwards. 'You are Aldebrands to your Ael Tarael,' Jean told them. 'You shall no longer wear the finery of a nobleman; you will always wear the garb of warriors.' Tobin and Orion bowed their heads slightly as a sign of obedience. She had spared them some honour and hope of redemption.

***

Orion left the trial with Tobin at his side. Lydia and Elmira were close behind. Neither of their wives discussed the judgement further with the twelve Ael Tarael they had brought as witnesses. The decision was made, the word of the White Snow Fox was a law higher than any king or queen, and she was one of the Chosen, one of the Saviours of Kismeria. With Adem Highlander's support, his fate was sealed. He could not turn against them, nor would he ever leave their side, but right now he wanted to tear out Carl Wilder's hair for making that decree. His rage towards Jean Fairsythe was subdued by the honour she allowed them, to serve as Aldebrands to their wives, as well as affording them the life force of Angel-Magic, rather than the alternative that was certain death. He considered himself lucky to be a king, when facing the wrath of Jean Fairsythe.

No other male wielder would have such a buffer to escape being blocked from teron. He would never command an army ever again, never sit on his gilded throne in his Royal Throne Room at Tarvel, never order servants to do his bidding, or give commands in combat. He had lost everything that defined him in the wake of that wrath. Though, No!—He was still so much more than just a king. He was an Agnar. An expert battle tactician, a great hunter and tracker. A resourceful man. A man who loved his wife.

When they arrived at their tent, Lydia walked in behind Elmira, shouting at the top of her lungs, 'I will smother that little tart in her sleep! How dare she make judgement over the Immortal Kings and Queens! I will demand a retrial! I will gather armies to support you, until she is forced to give us back our titles and our kingdoms! The sheer nerve of that girl, to try to bully us because of one stupid rule being broken in a life or death situation! Aggghhh! I would have scratched out her eyeballs, if she was anyone other than the White bloody Snow Fox!' That put Tobin's eyebrows higher than usual, his wife had a temper, but Elmira put an invisible dagger through Orion's own heart when she said, 'Well my argument isn't with Jean Fairsythe. I see a husband here before me who has lost his kingdom, his loyal subjects, his gold and jewels. His horses, his farms and estates. His crown, and the horse he rode in on, just to burn up a few bloody victims of his wrath! You must've been out of your mind! Jean was forced to uphold the law!' Then Elmira looked to Lydia, touching her on the shoulder as she said, 'Jean spared their lives, Lydia. For allowing us to keep our husbands for eternity, you must forgive Jean. Lydia, you must forgive her now.'

Lydia gave out a deep sigh, her head drooping before she replied, 'Elmira is right, I do forgive Jean, she was only doing her duty. If the laws were not enforced for the Immortal Kings, how would it be fair to punish others for doing the same? The laws must be just, gentlemen. You both somehow seemed to forget that. I will discuss this with you further when we are alone husband, and you shall know my wrath at that time.' Her eyes were fixed on Tobin at the last, a burning fury in her gaze. Elmira also fumed as she stared at Orion and said, 'I am not finished with you either, Orion the Dethroned!'

Adem arrived later to report that Jean was allowing them to keep their large pavilion style tents. That also brought sighs of relief from both women, they had lost their luxury so suddenly, they must be grateful for anything they were given. They were shocked to their cores, but still grateful.

'I wondered if you gentlemen would like to discuss the rebel Alit'aren problem,' Adem suggested, as he stepped further into the tent. Elmira and Lydia were seated on cushioned chairs. Adem was standing in front of the large map covered desk where Tobin and Orion were standing, in an attempt to put a barrier between themselves and their wives.

Adem's willingness to discuss the rebel problem was a new development; prior to their imprisonment he had been considerably reclusive whenever Orion brought up the issue. Orion knew it was a tactic, he was certain Adem was planning something with the rebels. He had already learnt that Torin Modrellock was sending messages to Adem. Orion was anxious to discover the nature of those messages.

'Anything we say on the subject of the rebels will be stricken from the record if Jean Fairsythe learns of it,' Tobin said. 'We are no longer the leaders of Tarvel and Nordhel. We have no armies to command, no resources, and so we have nothing to offer.' Lydia began to glare at her husband during that statement, and then she said, 'You still have your wits, dear husband. You will discuss the rebel problem with Adem Highlander to keep your mind distracted over the coming weeks.' Elmira flashed a glare at Orion before she added, 'You shall also work with Adem Highlander, to dissolve the division between our armies. If the rebel Alit'aren cannot be commanded to heel, the future looks very bleak.' Adem waited patiently for them to finish before he said, 'Yes, you still have the knowledge of two great kings, you are experts of war and negotiation, and you still have great worth in my opinion.'

'Why did you side with Jean Fairsythe?' Orion asked Adem. Adem bowed his head slightly, looking at his boots, before he replied, 'I would have thought that answer would be obvious. Jean is my heart. I love her more than anything. I couldn't let her stand alone and pronounce judgement over you two. I had to show my full support in her decision.' Then he looked up to stare Orion in the eyes as he said, 'But I am truly sorry for your situation, and I will do what I can to restore you to your rightful places in this world.'

'Forget it,' Orion said. 'You did what you had to do. My place now is beside my wife as her Aldebrand. I cannot see any further into the future, other than my desire to do well in that role.' That brought him a smile from Elmira, a sweeter fire kindled in her big blue eyes.

'Yes,' Adem agreed, 'though if you could still serve one of the Chosen and influence his decisions, you would still have great sway over the future, wouldn't you?' Now Orion saw Adem's angle clearly. He wished to utilise Orion's and Tobin's skills, while keeping the source of his knowledge from Jean. It could work. There was still much to be done before the Ragnarök Battle. Nations needed to be united, war had to end, and the people had to turn their focus to defeating Jinn-Fendinn.

'What would you ask of us,' Orion asked, 'if we were to agree to these terms?'

'I ask for nothing in return,' Adem said. 'I still see the worth of your minds, and I foresee great things for the both of you, if you agree to become my advisors. Jean will learn of it soon enough, but I am a Son of Odin, I have the right to choose whoever I wish to advise me in my decisions. She may argue, and perhaps turn cold, but I agreed with her when it mattered, now it's my turn to make a few heads spin.'

'What do you have planned?' Orion asked; which brought a sly grin to Adem's face.

***

Jean stood in her tent, behind the large carved desk that was covered in large maps of the surrounding territories. Terese stood on the opposite side of the desk, her arms crossed under her breasts. Terese wore a deep green woollen coat, that was so long it served as a short skirt, with a brown leather belt around her waist, blue stockings and navy-blue boots. Jean wore a crimson silk coat with black buttons, a matching skirt embroidered with black foxes across the hem, golden silk stockings and red leather boots. They were the outfits they'd worn to the trial; Terese's simple and humble while Jean's outfit radiated the presence of one of the Chosen.

'I still think there had to be some other way to deal with them,' Terese said. 'To lose the Immortal Kings of Nordhel and Tarvel is a nightmare in the making. Lydia was right about a Succession War. Tobin's three sons will move to claim the throne at Nordhel, perhaps leaving the Green Border undefended when they begin to bicker amongst themselves. Torvis could fall into civil war as the Immortal Lords and Ladies gather armies to support their claim to the throne. I respect the decision you've made Jean, but I don't like it one bit.'

'I had to make an example of them,' Jean said. 'Word will spread like wildfire that even the Immortal Kings aren't safe from the new decree. Their punishment fit the crime in my opinion; their suffering will be the dues they will pay for their own decisions. I had to do it, Terese, I saw no other way.'

'Yes,' Terese agreed, 'but you should have discussed this move with me first, Jean. I am your advisor as well as your protector. I have great knowledge in negotiations like these. I think I could have found a better solution.'

'What's done is done.' Jean said. 'I have allowed Tobin's sons to keep their royal titles, and to make their claim to the throne, I could have stripped them of their lands and kingdoms also to drive my point home.'

'Well you made the right decision there,' Terese said. 'Tobin's sons are good men from what I hear, two are great warriors, courageous but proud. They will surely contest one another for the claim to the throne, and there may be others who would wish to usurp their claims to place themselves on the throne. I predict great wars. Jean, what have you done?'

'At least Adem supported me,' Jean said. 'If he hadn't, well ... he would've found no comfort in my presence. The fact that he did support me shows he has some sanity left. I expect you to show the same level of support in all of my decisions, Terese, whether I advise you about them first or not.' Terese gave out a deep sigh, her large dark eyes filled with challenge that dissipated to regret as she said, 'I tried to make you very strong, Jean Fairsythe. Perhaps I made you too strong. You were hard as nails in your judgement this evening, it was more than I could've ever expected of you.'

'Well,' Jean said, 'maybe now Lydia and Elmira will keep their husbands in line, and those that wish to break the new laws will remember the punishment of Orion and Tobin, former Kings of Nordhel and Tarvel.'

'I think you're right, Jean,' Terese agreed. 'To allow those two to get away with it would've been a terrible mistake. You made a fine example of them, and their wives. They will forgive you in time, I'm certain of that. You allowed them to keep their names of legend and afforded them great honour as Servants of the All-Father. They will appreciate that once they earn some status points through their good deeds.'

'Yes,' Jean said. 'Now, should we discuss the problem of the rebel Alit'aren?'

'What do you have in mind?' Terese asked; which brought a smile to Jean's lips.

***

'We seek them out,' Adem instructed, 'find where they're based and arrange peace talks with their leaders.'

'Rodriel Tarz holds sway over the rebels,' Orion said, 'and he visits the camp regularly. Why would it be necessary to seek them out?'

'Tarz holds influence,' Adem said, 'but he is not their leader.'

'How do you know this?' Tobin asked.

'I have spies within the rebel camp.' Adem admitted; he was aware that Orion and Tobin had already learnt of his correspondence with Torin.

'Who leads them?' Orion asked.

'Brolen Aeldur,' Adem replied.

'The Grey Bear,' Orion remarked. 'He will not be easily bargained with. I've known Brolen since he was a young Seidr'tera, he was always stubborn, even as a lad, now he is known as the Bear because that's exactly what he resembles when he's backed into a corner.'

'Scouts last reported that the rebels were headed west,' Tobin said.

'My intelligence suggests otherwise,' Adem replied. 'I have recently received word that they have used one of the Travelling Gates to make their way to the Green Border.' The letter was handed to him by the young Rohan two days ago, the boy travelling at great speeds on an altherin horse to deliver the message. 'I suggest we send scouts to the Green Border to confirm this information, and then we travel to the Border Kingdoms to meet with them and decide our fate.'

'Do you know which Border Kingdoms they will seek out for refuge?' Tobin asked.

'I sent a reply message confirming the events of the trial just before I arrived,' Adem said. 'The messenger knows where they're headed, and he will meet with them soon. My guess is that they will use the knowledge of a Succession War to influence your three sons, Tobin. To guide one of them towards the throne, in the hope of having the decree revoked.'

'That sounds the most likely,' Tobin agreed. 'What say you, Orion?'

'I agree,' Orion said. 'Your plan has merit, Adem Highlander. Will you order the scouts to be sent immediately?'

'Yes,' Adem said, 'to all of the Border Kingdoms, in case they choose another.'

'What of the spread of revolution we were supposed to stamp out?' Tobin asked.

'The changes to the decree will influence most Alit'aren to obey the new laws,' Adem replied. 'This should appease the farmer armies to some degree, and perhaps the spread of revolution will be slowed by this. I know we must unite the nations, but we cannot allow an army of rabid wolves wielding teron without restriction.'

Aldebrands were then called into the tent to deliver the message to the scouts. The two Immortal Aldebrands wore wooden bows at their backs, no longer wielding the enchanted style. Tobin and Orion had also given up their Lukrorian Bows, to be replaced with a blue and a green one of plain wood, both worked with gold and silver lines. The two weapons leaning against chairs on either side of the desk. Orion then changed behind the screen to don the dark coat and trousers of an Alit'aren. Tobin and Lydia left for a while, and when they returned Tobin was wearing the torin'sidhe camouflage coat and trousers of greens, browns and greys. They were no longer kings; they were ordinary men, even though their immortal blood still made them extraordinary.

'There is something else we must do when we reach the Borderlands,' Orion said to Adem. 'I had planned to delay this move, but if we are to face the rebels it will be necessary. There is an ancient power that resides on the Green Border, where we must seek out the Stairs of Odin. This staircase of enchanted stone is a moving platform, never residing in the same place for more than a few days. They say that to find the Stairs of Odin again, the Blue Water Dragon must search with a just cause. That staircase is a doorway to another dimension.'

'What lies within that dimension?' Adem asked.

'An ancient form of Angel-Magic,' Orion explained. 'It is known as the Heart of Odin.'

'What does it do?' Adem asked.

'It will show you your destiny, Adem Highlander.'

***

'We defeat them with force,' Jean said, 'and drive them into the sea if need be. The rebels are a problem we must face sooner or later. Adem will try to reason with them, but I will not stick my hand in the mouth of a pack of rabid wolves. We will hunt them down, find out their weaknesses, and then use that to force them into submission, or we will annihilate them.'

'Perhaps reasoning with them first would be a safer plan,' Terese suggested.

'I have already tried that,' Jean snapped, 'and Tarz was stubborn as a charging blind bull! We must make them realise that we will not accept their rebellion. They must be crushed by whatever means necessary to cut them out of the picture.'

'What if they can be brought to heel?' Terese asked, her face glowing in the lantern light, her eyes sparkling like dark gems.

'That would be a miracle!' Jean shouted in exasperation. 'I have looked for other options ever since the division began, but I am running out of feasible ideas. They must be stopped before they turn into evil madmen.'

Chapter 4

To Find the Source

Carl sat in his tent, a square lantern glowing on the desktop, over a large map of the three Immortal Borderland Kingdoms and its territories. He listened carefully as Adem sat across from him, explaining his plan to deal with the rebel Alit'aren, and his aim to go in search of this thing he called the Heart of Odin. Adem was sketchy about exactly what the Heart was, or what it did, which intrigued Carl in regard to whether or not Adem actually even knew what it was.

'Turin is Prince of Orodhel,' Carl said, as he gazed at that point on the map. 'Artur is Prince of Kareldon, and Lune is Prince of Korhad, the three immortal sons of Tobin Fire-Heart. They control the northern half of the Green Border, its armies and its people, and you think this will be the target of the rebels. To what aim?'

'I already explained that part,' Adem said in frustration, his symptoms beginning to emerge. 'The rebels will hope to raise a new king, who will outlaw the new decree, giving them the rights to wield any element they choose, whenever they wish to.'

'So, you suggest we get to those three princes first?' Carl asked.

'I suggest we head for the Borderlands, to seek out the Heart of Odin,' Adem said. 'While we are there it is most likely we will run into the rebel army, as they are already there, as I mentioned already.' Adem's brow was furrowed with tension.

'Did you take your Healing-Magic twice today?' Carl asked, to change the subject. He was still very concerned about Adem's illness and the way it seemed to increase every day.

'Only once this morning,' Adem admitted, raising his hands to rub the sides of his temples.

'Are you suffering from another headache?' Carl asked.

'They're getting worse,' Adem replied, with his eyes closed. 'Sometimes they last from wake till sleep. I feel like I'm alone in this war, Carl, like I'm the only one who gives a damn.'

'Jean certainly gave a damn when she cast down two Immortal Kings and Queens,' Carl said. 'I care too, Adem, but my concern for you is foremost when there are no signs of danger other than that concern.'

'I'm fine,' he said, still rubbing his temples. 'I'm just worried about Jean, about us, about everyone. I feel a mountain of responsibility weighed on my shoulders; everyone looks to me for leadership. I can't imagine myself living the same life I did back home, that person I once was is now only a faded and distant memory. But sometimes I wish to return to that simplicity, do you understand?'

'I know exactly what you mean,' Carl agreed. 'But we are here, we have our duty, and we must succeed.' That brought a smile to Adem's lips, he would've been proud to hear Carl speak in such a way. Up till now Carl had dodged that responsibility like a flying bullet; he felt it was time he owned up to it. 'In regard to our search for this Heart of Odin, I agree it is pivotal to our cause. We will leave a substantial force here and we will mobilise for the Green Border as soon as possible.'

'Thank you,' Adem said, still smiling. 'I'm glad you don't want to argue this time.'

'You said the Blue Water Dragon must search with a just cause?' Carl asked.

'Those were Orion's words,' Adem said, 'though I don't understand its meaning. Don't we already stand for the ultimate cause, the preservation of all life on Kismeria?'

'It could be cryptic,' Carl added, 'or meant to be interpreted literally. Perhaps it will unravel when we begin our search. To find the source of this power, you must find a truly just cause.'

***

Wil lay across from his wife, on their crimson silk sheets and pillowcases. A light mauve blanket was spread over the top, as the nights were getting warmer. Change in temperature didn't seem to bother Hayley much though; she already showed signs of the training to become a true Ael Tarael. Her passion in the bedroom hadn't altered much since her changes, though she was much stronger now, so much so that she had to be gentle to avoid hurting him. He closed his eyes and saw a great shield of golden fire, embossed with carvings of kings and queens, animals and beasts. It was the afterglow of making love to his wife that gave him such images, it was a feeling beyond imagining, the satisfaction of a heightened reality.

Hayley was snoring soundly, something she would do on occasion, though he found it endearing. She was still so cute, so youthful and innocent, so sweet it was almost sickly. But the new sly knowing in her eyes and smile always gave him grave concerns. What if Carl's spell over her began to weaken; and she began to crave human blood, or became monstrous in appearance? What if the darkness of her curse began to creep into her human soul? He had thought over those issues, many times, during the hours he lay awake listening to her slow breathing, while she slept. He tried to stay awake until daylight, to ensure no Nightwalkers entered her tent to attempt another assassination. Sometimes he drifted off at first light, other times the tiredness took him before then, but he always woke to see her sitting up in bed reading a book or swallowing a goblet full of blood for breakfast.

Wil reached down to grasp the hilt of his double-bladed axe, that glowed brighter gold when he held it up above his face. His awareness of his Battle Angels increased while holding the enchanted weapon, he sensed the familiar brooding in a vortex of fire that was most common for Dis Pater's moods. His sense of Bran was that he was bathed in a sea of flames, though that other Battle Angel had offered no communication through the kigare since joining with him.

Will she survive? He asked Dis Pater, followed by a long pause before his Battle Angel replied; I do not have the gift of foreseeing the future, Son of Odin. Though, her chances are improved. Wil felt like two people now, the old Wil Martyr of Earth, and the new Wil Martyr of Kismeria, with memories of the lives of countless immortals throughout the history of this strange new land.

The new Wil of Kismeria wasn't all of those men as his new self however; he was one man with all of those memories and abilities, collected into the one living shell. Sometimes he had dreams of those memories, and sometimes he even had flash memories of those lives while he was awake, and he felt he was that person at that time. But he was always himself too, now more than ever.

Shouts were heard outside the tent's entrance; his Aldebrands were alerted to danger. A horn sounded, so close it had to be one of those who guarded his tent. Lightning flared through the tent walls, thick bolts from both sides, turning night into day. Hayley was awake in a flash, sitting upright with a startled expression in her big dark eyes.

'What is going on, Wil?' she asked. 'Are we in danger?'

'Get dressed and armoured quickly,' he said, as he stood, while still clutching his golden axe. 'I'll assess the danger. We'll decide whether to stay here or start running.' He quickly threw on a dark navy woollen coat, and black trousers with knee high brown leather boots. He strapped his bow-case harness to his chest; and glanced at Hayley stepping out from behind the screen, wearing a dark emerald dress with divided woollen skirts, a golden belt of medallions and her ruby necklace.

Horns had continued to sound in the distance during that time, along with more shouts and bolts of blue lightning in the sky. His Aldebrand Robin entered the tent in the dark cloth and emerald mask and gauntlets of the ghoda'sidhe.

'Forgive my delay, Wil Martyr,' the Immortal Aldebrand said, 'we were ambushed by Nightwalkers. It looks like another attempt similar to the last at Charkel. There are vampires all over the sky this time, enough to create serious problems.' Wil glanced back over his shoulder to see Hayley in crimson armour; equipped with her bow and sword. He wanted to don some armour of his own, the kind that most blades couldn't cut through, but there was no time. The shouts of the other Aldebrands outside his tent told him the Nightwalkers hadn't finished trying to infiltrate and likely kill him, and his wife. He held out his hand which Hayley rushed to clasp, and then they followed Robin out of the tent and into the night.

***

Adem heard the shouts of Aldebrands outside, moments before he saw lightning flare in the sky, around his tent. He and Carl stood; gathering their weapons. Morek Cinderblast entered to report the Nightwalker attack. Morek wore the torin'sidhe, with his blue-and-gold worked wooden bow gripped in his right fist. The dark-haired Aldebrand wore a hardened expression; concern evident in his large dark Torvellen eyes.

'There is more this time than there was in the last attack,' the man reported, as if stating that he liked long walks. 'The Aldebrands have formed a perimeter around your tent. We await your leadership, Sons of Odin.' Adem had his horn attached to his waist belt; he quickly buckled on his bow and reached for his sword. He drew the blade that glowed pale blue. Carl reached for his crimson spear.

'We must get to Jean first,' Adem insisted.

'Lead the way,' Carl said, as they stepped out into a scene of chaos. Vampires filled the skies; there must have been thousands of them. The advantage of killing vampires was that they were the only humans to contain ki'mera orbs. Adem shouted, 'Arawn! Llew! Balor!' Carl shouted, 'Angus! Math Mathonwy!' Bright fires erupted around their forms, filling Adem's vision.

Llew Llaw Gyffes appeared, standing twelve-feet-tall, a shimmering blue apparition in armour of golden scales. Massive shield and sword of flames held aloft, hacking flying vampires into charred glowing chunks. Spirit Wolves burst from the form of the Battle Angel. Pony-sized beasts formed of blue fire charged, pushing vampires to the ground; tearing off limbs and biting through skulls. Blood sprayed with the sounds of crushing bone.

Balor appeared as a ten-foot-tall spectre with wings of blue flames, his armour and helmet a pale apparition. He flew through the sky in a white flare, his massive blue axe hacking through vampire skulls and torsos like a quicksilver stream, flaring with each strike as the axe blade sunk into enemy flesh and bone.

Arawn appeared at the same time and mimicked this action of Balor's. Arawn's wings were burning crimson, his red blade lanced through the sky in a blurring pattern, striking in bright arcs that caused Nightwalker bodies to explode; splattering the earth below. Math Mathonwy copied them also; blood red cape becoming burning wings as he sliced through the heavens with the Hellfire Spear.

Shadow Hounds and Fire Lions charged along the grasslands of the camp and surrounding hillsides, burning prints of crimson and gold left along their paths as the beasts devoured demon flesh with ravenous ferocity. Ki'mera orbs flowed towards Adem and Carl, until their vision was again awash with colour. The ki'mera increased Adem's strength and vitality, and when he sheathed his blade, he drew his bow and fired a stream of burning arrows. Carl's spear released bolts of red lightning; blasting small groups of vampires out of the sky and turning them to ash. Adem thought he might try to match him, so he began to summon blades of blue lightning.

Angus also hovered close to Carl, a looming spectre of light and shadows. Carl used the Battle Angel to cast a spell, that expanded to surround Adem and the Aldebrands, rejuvenating their spirits with Angel-Magics similar to Healing. Adem felt a stronger charge of teron fill his veins, Jinn-Magic corroding that pure fruit like worms of acid. His lightning bolts spread in intricate patterns, tearing holes through dozens of vampires in a flicker of blue flames. Carl's hold on Angel-Magic also increased, as the red lightning turned twenty Nightwalkers to burnt char with a single bolt; spreading through the sky like a crimson claw.

Adem unleashed a few more arrows of blue flame from his bow—all hitting their targets due to his enhanced vision—when he sent to Arawn, Take me to Jean, now! There was no need to inform Carl of his destination. Carl could simply tell one of his Battle Angels to follow Arawn. The ten feet tall spectre of scaled black armour swooped down out of the sky; lifting Adem over twenty feet off the ground. When Arawn set him down on the soft green field close to Jean's tent, he looked back to see Carl being carried by Math Mathonwy, burning wings like some massive crimson eagle clutching him in its claws.

Llew appeared out of thin air, the twelve feet tall figure must have the ability to teleport. Adem wondered at the possibilities there. Llew swung his blade, hacking into any vampires within his reach, his Blue Wolves launching out of his form to tear down enemies, devouring flesh and bone in savage horrid gulps. Arawn and Math Mathonwy returned to the skies like lightning-comets, moving in all directions, hacking vampires in half with each point of impact. Balor could be seen amongst them too, his blue wings and axe visible in the dark night sky, despite his incredible speed.

Jean was standing outside her tent, dressed in the crimson coat and skirt she'd worn to the trial. Terese stood beside her with her silver blade shining. Jean held her emerald bow, firing arrows of green flame at the circling vampires above. Tanriel hovered some twenty feet above her, wings of blue flames with crimson armour and an emerald skirt. The Battle Angel unleashed crimson spears, that flew outwards from every point of her form like spokes flying off a wheel. The spears hit a target every time, punching through the chest or torso of the vampires, and releasing webs of blue lightning that struck others flying nearby. Tanriel appeared to be linked with Jean's new Battle Angel, Anwen, who stood beside Jean holding an emerald tree staff. Hawks of red, yellow and orange flames flew from the branches of the staff. hundreds of the Fire Hawks that soared into the darkness above to tear at the faces of the vampires with large hooked claws. Fire Hawks punched straight through the chests of the Nightwalkers in a flash of light, which destroyed the vampire, but the Hawk also vanished after the killing strike.

Eight Aldebrands also surrounded Jean; there were dozens more in a wider circle and around her tent. It seemed Terese had her well-guarded at all times since the first attempt on Jean's life.

Math Mathonwy's Shadow Hounds and Arawn's Fire Lions began to charge through the rows of tents, tearing down vampires, biting off their skulls or shredding through armour and flesh with massive claws. Ki'mera continued to fountain towards Adem, Carl and Jean, though Adem was worried his Battle Angels would tire too soon. He unleashed a blur of blue arrows at the flying targets, also sending lightning that tore through vampire hearts before those cursed men plummeted to the earth.

***

Orion gripped the hilt of his longsword Tigerclaw, the blade golden in the darkness as he stood protecting the back of his wife. Elmira was casting balls of blue flame from her hands while wielding lightning that struck five, six, seven vampires at a time, knocking them out of the sky. The blue bolts flew from her fingertips, while the balls of blue flame hovered outwards from the same source, flying into the night sky to seek out their targets. Lydia stood close by with Tobin guarding her back. Lydia cast similar spells of lightning though her Seeker Fires were in the form of palm sized fairies of blue light; something Ael Tarael called Pixie Wardens. The two women were gaining a considerable number of ki'mera orbs, which increased the scale of their attacks as time progressed.

Eleven other Aldebrands also stood close by, some firing arrows of steel from their wooden bows, others holding their blades that glowed crimson, or golden, aqua or emerald. The Elemental Power unleashed by their two wives was so intense the vampires took heed and started to clear out of the patch of dark sky overhead. They began to run onwards as a unit of four, Orion guarding Elmira, Tobin guarding Lydia, that was their duty now, it was all they had left to live for. Despite this fact, they were headed for Jean Fairsythe's tent. The women had forgiven her, Orion and Tobin had seen the wisdom in her decision. So, they decided they must still work to protect her, and Orion knew Adem Highlander would already be at Jean's side, which likely meant the other Saviours were there also. They still had an obligation to serve and protect the Chosen, whether it was requested or not. How they would manage to get around the conditions of Jean Fairsythe's new laws, that restricted the actions of Tobin and Orion—and their wives—was a problem he hadn't yet been able to solve—

A black-eyed vampire launched down out of the sky! Orion recoiled like a snake, his sword slicing through the air to cut a nasty wound across the chest and torso of the attacker. Blood spurted like a fountain as the body crashed into the earth. Orion spun in time to catch another attack from the corner of his eye, whipping the blade around to perform Heart Weaver—the sword skewering the attacker through the heart—then he drew the blade while the figure was still in midair, changing to Crimson Sun—a slice upwards through the vampire's torso and chest, to bring the blade back down to cleave through his skull—which left the figure broken and bleeding on the ground before him.

Two vampires lay slain at Tobin's feet also, Orion had caught glimpses of Tobin's blade slicing through the darkness while he dealt with his own attackers, the former king roaring like a bear as he cleaved through flesh and bone. They ran on into the night, their Aldebrands surrounding them and running also.

No other Aldebrands or soldiers joined them as they ran through the camp however, it was forbidden by Jean Fairsythe, they could no longer command soldiers, and none could follow them who weren't their appointed Aldebrands. The fact that Jean had allowed those Aldebrands to remain as their bodyguards showed she still considered their lives worth preserving.

***

Hayley stood in the palm of the hand of an eighteen feet tall Green Man, a particularly large one, created to carry her and her husband through the camp, as they made their way towards Jean's tent. Adem and Carl would surely be there, and although Wil had suggested that they let Bran and Dis Pater carry them there faster, she felt safer under Druantia's care. Her dark eyed Battle Angel flowed through the air beside her—shimmering emerald dress and hair of black flames—wielding a bow of green light that she used to unleash arrows of emerald fire, knocking vampires out of the sky. Hayley covered the low ground, firing golden arrows that set vampires aflame as they screamed and fell to their knees.

Dis Pater's three hundred crows—with wing tips of golden flame and burning red eyes—squawked as they circled the Green Man, forming a moving barrier against Nightwalker attacks. Bran marched in front of the Green Man, wielding his bright sword to hack down any vampires that stood in his path, and there were hundreds of them. Most servants who saw them approaching ran away in terror, though dozens of soldiers, Aldebrands and some Alit'aren wielding swords were beginning to follow behind the Green Man, cutting down any Nightwalkers that made it past Bran's sweeping blade.

The face of the Green Man was slightly evil looking. A new kind of darkness to its seed shaped eyes, and large wooden fangs jutting out of its mouth of leaves and vines. Druantia also appeared slightly infected; that same look of evil lying behind those dark eyes. Evidently the vampire curse did have an influence on her Battle Angel and her powers. Hayley truly hoped it didn't infect other female Battle Angels as a result—and therefore all female wielders—as she was fairly certain the effects could not be reversed.

***

Carl unleashed a bolt of lightning from his spear; fire moving through vampire flesh like giant red claws. Angus stood by his side, his giant emerald staff held aloft as he and Carl wielded the last rejuvenation spell, casting outwards as a bubble of blue light that surrounded Adem, Jean, Terese and the former Immortal Kings and Queens who had recently joined them.

The bubble wasn't large enough to spread to the Aldebrands who surrounded their inner circle, though their energy levels were replenished by the power source known as the gift that flowed through their veins. Some of those Aldebrands were firing steel arrows at the flying vampires, most hitting a target in the chest or between the eyes. Others wielded swords of fire, moving through the forms to hack down any Nightwalkers that tried to penetrate the inner circle.

Carl's other Battle Angel, Math Mathonwy, was also at a point where he would need to return to his Resting Point quite soon. The spirit warrior still flew through the dark night sky, moving in streaks of blurred light, his red spear carving through vampire flesh at each point of impact.

Adem stood close by Carl's side, still wielding lightning in the sky and firing arrows at their enemies. His three Battle Angels were all practicing the same technique, even twelve feet tall Llew Llaw Gyffes was soaring like a giant blue eagle, slicing through vampire bodies with lightning speed. The slightly smaller forms of Arawn's red wings and Balor's blue; could also be seen hacking and slashing. Balor's axe would cleave a vertical arc of blue flames, flaring like a small crescent moon, while Arawn's sword of red flames sliced in a horizontal blur. Lions, Fire Wolves and Shadow Hounds still surrounded their inner circle on the dark green fields, most standing guard as sentinels, now that most vampires on the ground had been dealt with.

There were still hundreds in the skies however, and small groups of them swooped down every few seconds, though Tanriel's red spears usually pierced their flesh before Carl or Adem managed to alter their Angel-Magics.

Carl then heard the familiar thud of one of the Green Men Druantia created, and he looked to the east to see a giant version of its kind, with a look of darkness to its eyes and long wooden fangs like a walking vampire tree! Wil and Hayley stood in either of the huge palms of the Green Man, Hayley unleashing golden arrows with Druantia by her side. Bran the Blessed marched in front of the Green Man, and dozens of soldiers, Aldebrands and Alit'aren followed behind the massive figures. Dis Pater's Flame Crows could also be seen circling the Green Man, seemingly as a protective barrier for Hayley and Wil. Then Dis Pater's golden wings, and giant axe, could be seen circling them from above, when Carl felt all ten Battle Angels form a Link!

The surge in teron that filled Carl's veins felt like a raging river cascading from a mountain cliff higher than the moon! Lightning and corruption flowed through him, electrifying his blood and corroding his flesh!

Lightning flared in the sky above, beneath a vortex cloud of grey that appeared out of the dark night sky. There were golden bolts, aqua, emerald, crimson and mauve lightning, thousands of bolts launched from the clouds to strike the remaining vampires in the sky. Sometimes five bolts formed a spear to punch through the chest of one Nightwalker, others became forks that reached out like giant claws to tear through the forms of dozens of the flying creatures. During those brief moments that night was turned into daylight, and the skies were a blossom of colour and fire, the male Battle Angels in the sky began to move at twice their normal speed, moving in streaks of white light that were faster than the lightning bolts. Cutting through vampire flesh with their weapons that flared like crescent moons.

Tanriel unleashed a blur of her red spears, each one hitting a target as red lightning flared outwards from the source, taking down more vampires in an instant. The sentinels that surrounded their inner circle, Lions, Wolves, Hounds and Crows, picked and clawed at the burnt corpses that fell out of the sky, until the Aldebrands began a victory roar; that was heard in the distance all around them. The battle was over. What concerned Carl was; how many servants and soldiers were now infected with the vampire curse throughout the camp?

***

Tobin lowered his blade, breathing a sigh of relief that the battle was won. Vampire corpses surrounded him and Lydia, and just as many were piled around the feet of Orion and Elmira. Some of those had been struck by the lightning in the sky, though most had made an attempt on his wife's life, which suggested the enemy did not yet know that Tobin and Orion had lost their crowns. Lydia looked half dazed from exertion, as did Elmira. Tobin's breathing was still laboured from his own work with the sword forms, and Orion was also breathing hard. They both sheathed their blades and moved to stand before Carl Wilder, who was shouting orders at the Aldebrands, soldiers and Alit'aren that had joined them towards the end of the battle.

'Find anyone who is bitten and line them up for release from their duties,' Carl was shouting. 'Have soldiers patrol the fields to put a sword or spear through any Nightwalker corpses that start to twitch. There is no need for Ael Tarael to burn the corpses, the dawn will see to that. Have the Ael Tarael expert in Healing-Magic seeing to any wounded, including the infected. I don't want to see any soldiers or servants with bite marks on their necks that don't look like they will survive the next three days.' The command in Carl Wilder's tone was remarkable, compared to the man he had been when Tobin first met him. The Chameleon Arch had changed them all, but their experiences since leaving Nordhel had shaped them even more.

Tobin still didn't agree with Carl that infected men and women should be spared, to have the chance to live on as vampires. He predicted those first thousand or so that they left near Nordhel had caused some serious damage, spreading the curse in that region. But that was someone else's concern now. He was no longer King of the Nordics.

'What would you have us do, Carl Wilder?' Lydia asked, looking exhausted.

'You four have done enough already, thank you.' Carl replied. 'You may return to your tents to get some rest. We are in command now. This is our mess to clean up.'

Chapter 5

Hayley's Curse

Hayley sat at the breakfast table, the light of the morning sun making her cringe slightly as it glowed through the tent walls. She was still adjusting to sunlight since her changes. Carl Wilder insisted she would get used to it in time, but currently it also made her dizzy and quite sick to her stomach. Despite this she sipped her goblet of breakfast blood slowly, peering over the rim of the cup to stare at Wil, who wore that familiar expression of deep concern. When the servant girl who brought Wil his porridge and fruit exited, Hayley asked him, 'Did you notice the changes in Druantia and her Green Man?'

'I did,' Wil replied, his eyes casting downwards, before he looked back into her eyes and said, 'but it was a necessary risk. Whatever the result, I will bear the burden. I won't let them blame you for something that was my idea. Perhaps the effects will be partially forgiven as they were instigated by one of the Chosen.' Hayley put down the bronzed cup before she replied, 'Druantia's curse was instigated by me, dear husband. The blame will fall to me, no matter what you try to say. It is my fault entirely. I should have been able to predict this, and it was my choice to accept Druantia as my Battle Angel. My greatest concern is whether this will infect other female Great Angels, which would result in some form of the curse infecting all female wielders.'

'That could be a serious problem,' Wil agreed. 'How can we test for this while remaining discreet?'

'The damage is done, husband,' Hayley said with a pout. 'We cannot reverse these effects, and if it is contagious, it will spread whether I give up Druantia as my Battle Angel or keep her as my protector. I imagine most Ael Tarael have already sensed a disturbance in the Angel-Magic. Terael feels different now, unclean, unbalanced, like a layer of shadows wrapped around a pure heart.'

'That sounds a lot like the Jinn-Magic on teron.' Wil said. 'Are you certain it isn't just something you can sense, in light of your ... changes?' Hayley was certain he was about to say 'in light of your curse' though he paused to consider his words more carefully. She tapped the side of the goblet with a long red fingernail before she replied, 'I'm certain, Wil. Terael is infected with some part of the vampire curse. What this means for the female Battle Angels and wielders of terael, I cannot say, but I am certain this will be a great bane to the Ael Tarael. I would guess Jinn-Fendinn is delighted.' Hayley sensed Wil's anxiety over her words, their shared emotions through the kigare. The perception was faint, as it had only begun after their Battle Angels first linked during the battle last night. But it was clear enough of a sense for her to know that Wil deeply regretted his decision to provide her with a Battle Angel. He would have sensed her guilt in return, the weight of the world upon her tiny shoulders.

'It's my fault,' he began, before she cut him off by saying, 'I will address this issue with Jean Fairsythe. I will take the blame. My name will inspire rage and hatred amongst the Ael Tarael when you leave Kismeria. I will walk this world alone, with none to serve or to protect me. None will offer me shelter, or a warm fire and a soft bed for the night. I will be a thing of nightmares to frighten children into obedience of their elders, the vampire woman who brought the curse to terael.'

'I won't allow it!' Wil shouted, slamming his fist down on the table, he meant he would make a decree to see that she was protected, but she spoke over him again, saying, 'There is nothing you can say or do to change my fate, Wil Martyr. When you leave this world, my place amongst the Armies of the All-Father will go with you. None will accept me after what I have done. The female half of Angel-Magic is tainted; something that was never a part of the Prophecies. The world is changed for the worst and it is my fault.' Her guilt was surging more and more with every word, though she felt some release from that guilt through her confessions. Her sense of Wil was that he was bathed in a cloud of flames, his heart still warm though it was wrapped in a sheet of ice. She sensed the same from his two male Battle Angels, residing in their Resting Points where they brooded, their descent into madness evident from the effects of Jinn-Magic on teron.

I really feel quite fine, Druantia sent to Hayley through the kigare. To which Hayley sent a reply. You are changed, Druantia of the Second Born, and your power flows into all female Great Angels. The evidence of evil is there in your eyes. I even sense it in your mind, now, as we share thoughts and emotions. There was no reply from her Battle Angel, though she sensed a similar brooding to that of Bran and Dis Pater. 'We must warn Jean Fairsythe,' she said as she stood; her goblet of blood not yet finished. She was tired from the battle and the little rest she obtained after it, though her guilt filled her with shame at the urge she felt to drain the remaining contents. She was no longer human; she was a cursed creature, a woman who had blundered in such a way that she may never earn redemption in the eyes of her friends and her people.

***

Jean sat in her tent, pondering the events that had taken place the night before and this morning. Seven Ael Tarael had visited her since dawn, in separate groups each time, three mortal and the rest immortal wielders. All had reported a disturbance in the Angel-Magic. Terael just didn't feel right anymore! Jean's own sense of Angel-Magic was that darkness lay across the bright essence of terael. It was almost identical to her sense of Jinn-Magic on teron, whenever her Battle Angels were linked with those of the Sons of Odin.

The women who reported the issue to her this morning had all mentioned their concern that Jinn-Fendinn had somehow brought the same taint to terael, something never mentioned in the Prophecies of Kismeria throughout the Ages. But what other explanation was there?

Jean knew the answer; of course, she'd sensed the source of the infection the moment Tanriel and Anwen formed a Link with Druantia.

Druantia was the source of the infection, and the dangerous eyes and wooden fangs of the giant Green Man that had carried Hayley and Wil in its palms, was certifiable evidence that Druantia's curse was resulting from her connection with a vampire!

'How was I so blind as to not see it?' Jean shouted as she thumped her desk with an open palm. 'Something so obvious, yet none of us stopped to consider the consequences. I had hoped Carl's spell had removed any chance of this happening, but I was wrong, so wrong. This is my fault; the blame falls upon me.'

'It is the fault of that fool of a man, Wil bloody Martyr!' Terese snapped, with her arms folded under her breasts. The woman wore a dark blue woollen coat with black buttons, that served as a short skirt, with a thick black belt, holding her sword at her waist. Her stockings were bright red silk and her boots were blue leather. Jean was dressed almost identically, with a red coat and boots and blue stockings. Both had their hair tied back in intricate thick braids, Jean's golden and Terese's dark as pitch. 'The question is whether this curse will have the same effect upon women, as Jinn-Magic on teron does to the minds of men?' Jean rolled her eyes and groaned at the plausibility of the question.

'If that is the case,' Jean said, 'we are doomed! How will the men react when they learn of this? What if they make a new decree against female wielding? What if such a move proves necessary? Without Angel-Magic, what hope is there?' Just then Hayley marched into the tent with Wil close behind as Hayley said, 'We will have to study the curse, see what we can learn of its effects. If the danger is so apparent that restrictions on wielding must be observed, then we shall make a new decree. If there is no apparent danger, we go on as if nothing has ever happened.' Her dark hair hung loose around her striking pale face; large dark eyes filled with concern despite that constant look of slyness. She wore a dark red velvet coat and emerald stockings, in similar style to Jean and Terese, her boots bright red with high heels. She wore her golden bow across her shoulders and sword at her waist belt. Wil wore Alit'aren black with his golden axe in his belt loop.

'I had hoped to keep this issue a secret from the Sons of Odin,' Jean said to Hayley, through gritted teeth, as the young woman strode towards her desk. That brought that wolfish grin to Wil's face as he said, 'So, the tables have certainly turned. You fear a restriction on female wielding, yet you enforce your will against two Immortal Kings and reduce them and their wives to the same standard as street beggars. How harshly will you judge your precious Ael Tarael when they break the rules?'

'There is no evidence so far to suggest that this ... disturbance ... will have any similar effects to Jinn-Magic on teron,' Jean said, then she fixed Wil with a dangerous glare as she said, 'If anyone is to blame for this, I am looking right at him! It was your idea to provide your ... wife a Battle Angel after her unfortunate accident.' She had been about to say 'your cursed wife' but thought better of Hayley's feelings. The near slip was reflected through her sense of Hayley's emotions, via their newly formed connection through the kigare. That connection was stronger than her sense of any of the Sons of Odin, even Adem, and she assumed it was because they were both female. Hayley was slightly offended by Jean's fumbling for the right words, though her face showed no evidence.

'I was only trying to find suitable protection for my wife,' Wil growled, in that wolf-like tone of his.

'The result of which could be a curse upon terael as severe as Jinn-Magic upon teron!' Jean snapped. 'What will happen to Kismeria if all wielders start to go insane? The Ael Tarael were supposed to be the shepherds that saw to the flocks. Now it looks like it could turn into a war of madmen against madwomen! I will hold you responsible for this, Wil Martyr! Your wife will not suffer the consequences of your foolish actions!'

'I accept full responsibility,' Hayley said, with a straight posture, her large dark eyes filled with emotion that flowed to Jean's mind through the kigare. The poor girl was sad, feeling guilty, afraid and just all round emotional. Yet her young face could have been carved from stone the way she kept her feelings hidden. She was strong, and possibly very wise despite this error that Jean could also partially place blame upon both Hayley, and herself; for their brash decision to join Hayley with Druantia at Wil's request.

'Perhaps all three of us have some partial blame in this,' Jean admitted. 'If only we could have known this would happen. Surely another solution could've been found to the problem of keeping you protected, Hayley. But we cannot change the past. We may however wish, in the future, that we hadn't been so quick to make this decision which has led to catastrophic results. I should've been more careful.'

***

'It's not my imagination, Tobin,' Lydia snapped, 'something is wrong with the Angel-Magic!'

'I feel it too,' Elmira insisted; both were seated on the cushioned thrones inside Orion's tent, Tobin and Orion standing behind that desk they used like a shield against their wives' recent mood swings.

'It started last night,' Lydia said, 'during the battle. It's like a rancid darkness floating on the purity of terael. It is strong too; it makes me feel ill if I draw too much Angel-Magic.' Tobin looked to Orion; the stark concern in both men's eyes was apparent.

'It sounds exactly like Jinn-Magic on teron,' Tobin said. 'We must speak with the Sons of Odin about this, surely they know of it by now.'

'Know of what?' Adem asked, as he entered the tent with a casual swagger. Adem stood tall for a mortal, clear blue eyes and dark brown hair tied in a tail falling past his shoulders. His ginger moustache and goatee were almost identical to Orion and Tobin's. Lydia could see how Jean could fall for a man as handsome and powerful as Adem. He radiated presence.

'There is a...a problem with terael,' Lydia admitted.

'What kind of problem?' Adem asked.

'We are not certain of the source of the problem,' Lydia said, 'but it seems the female half of Angel-Magic is no longer clean.'

'You mean it is tainted?' Adem asked. 'Like teron?'

'That is what we can feel, Adem Highlander,' Lydia said. 'It began last night, during the battle, and it has grown worse since that time. There is a darkness lying over Angel-Magic now, an unclean force that corrupts the purity of terael.'

'That sounds like very bad news,' Adem said, with raised eyebrows. 'Does Jean know about this?'

'We were planning to discuss it with the Sons of Odin first,' Tobin said. 'Jean Fairsythe is no longer our first point of contact, not even for Lydia or Elmira. The divide between us and that woman is wide and deep, solely created by that woman and her actions.'

'But surely you do not still hold animosity towards her for what she did?' Adem asked.

'Of course not, Adem Highlander,' Lydia said, before her husband could blunder further. 'We have forgiven Jean Fairsythe wholeheartedly. She did what she deemed right in that situation. What's done is done. We are just ... reluctant to be in her presence of late. She has become a woman of stone and steel, so hard it is difficult to imagine her making laughter or tears. Perhaps it is her concern for you, Adem Highlander, that has changed her so much from the soft, kind, caring individual we first met all those months ago.'

'She has a lot on her mind, yes—' Adem began, before Lydia spoke over him, saying, 'You are also changing day by day, Adem Highlander. When you first arrived you were calmer, more secure, more trusting of others and more focused. We four have watched that calmness and trust wither and fade as you become more hostile, agitated and sometimes just plain unkind. You are one of the Chosen, Adem Highlander, and so the fate of our world rests in your hands. I just wonder; is there anything more that we four could do to ensure your continued peace of mind?' Adem had turned to face Lydia during her little speech, and she watched his eyes closely, as they took on that inward, but also far away gaze, a sure sign of his growing madness. Despite the chances that he was also conversing with his Battle Angels through the kigare.

'I also have a lot of pressures these days,' Adem said, after a long pause, 'and sometimes I don't feel like the person I used to be at all. I understand your concerns, and I take great consideration of your wise words. But there is nothing to worry over. I'm fine, just stressed and tired and sometimes doing more than I should. I continue to accept my daily Healing-Magic, and I practice my meditation and restrict my usage of Angel-Magic. Please forgive me if my agitation begins to show, at times, when I am pushed to my limits. I don't mean to seem rude or unkind to anyone, but you four I hold in the highest regard. I should try to never lose control in your presence.' Lydia thought to herself how much she agreed with Adem that he was a changed person entirely from the young man they first met. His speeches were grand and well thought out, evidence of a shrewd mind despite his growing illness. He held himself with the self-assured importance of an Immortal King and addressed others as if he held such a title, when the mood took him. Of course, the Sons of Odin were greater than any King of Kismeria; they were of more importance and a higher order of beings. So, it was only right that he seemed to be one who is of such significance.

'I wished to discuss our plans to journey to the Green Border,' Adem said, seemingly as an attempt to shift the focus of the conversation. 'We should divide the forces up into small groups, that are able to move with speed towards our destination. The first and second waves should be formed entirely of altherin horses. The rest of the army will move at a slower pace.'

'I suggest a different tactic,' Lydia interjected, although Adem was addressing Tobin and Orion. 'We should journey to Rutheldor first, to discuss the disturbance in the female half of Angel-Magic. If there is any way of studying this problem to find a cure, the Ael Tarael of Rutheldor are the most likely to discover it. Although they are mostly mortal Ael Tarael at Rutheldor, they have great knowledge of cures and they are thorough researchers of plagues and illnesses, far superior to the Ael Tarael of Nordhel and Tarvel in many ways.'

'I see your point,' Adem agreed. 'We must discuss this with Jean to make a decision we can all agree upon. My choice would be to remain by her side at all times, though I am not entirely opposed to the possibility of separating into two groups. One to go to Rutheldor with Jean, and the other to join me in our search for the Heart of Odin.'

***

Jean was too impatient to wait for Adem and the former Immortal Kings and Queens to make it to the meeting she'd called. It was held in one of the large pavilion tents. It was early afternoon and still with plenty of good summer light passing through the tent walls.

Twenty-three Ael Tarael filled most of the space, a mixture of mortal and immortal women, along with half a dozen Alit'aren wearing swords at their hips. The Ael Tarael stood like proud swans in their bright silks and embroidered woollen cloaks, each one radiating the presence of power, despite the looks in their eyes that suggested they feared they might have that power removed in short order.

'We must take the time to study these effects further before we make any rash decisions,' said Delaray Ontorbros, dark of hair and eyes with the face of a red cheeked porcelain doll.

'I agree,' Jean said, 'but we must take precautions against similar effects to Jinn-Magic on teron before things get out of hand. An Ael Tarael loosing Angel-Magic on innocent victims would be equally as damaging to our reputation as the recent events involving Alit'aren.'

'There is still no proof that the darkness over terael is in any way similar to Jinn-Magic on teron,' said Lira Tolnock, staring down Jean with her large dark Torvellen eyes. Lira was one of the most experienced with Healing-Magic amongst the Immortal Ael Tarael. She would be an asset in finding a way to prevent this darkness from infecting the minds of female wielders. 'There may even be advantages that can be derived from this unfortunate situation.'

'What kind of advantages?' Jean asked.

'I'll need more time to study the effects,' Lira said, 'but I think this uncleanness that now covers terael, may open up new possibilities for battling demons and other creatures of the Shadow.'

'How would this be achieved?' Jean asked.

'I think the darkness that infects terael,' Lira began, 'has similarities to what I have studied of Jinn-Magic on teron. Though there are differences. The important similarity is that they both seem to open up the possibility of communication with the minds of demons. I first noticed this while providing Healing-Magic to alleviate Adem Highlander of his daily symptoms.

'Through deeper study of other male wielders, I found that Jinn-Magic on teron was a kind of melding of the Odin's Magic, and the Magic of the Jinn-Lord. I then devised the theory, that if Jinn-Magic allows communication with the minds of demons, certain Jinn-Spells should make it possible to control the thoughts of those demons as a result of the combined powers of Jinn-Fendinn and the All-Father.'

'That would be an abomination!' Kelesia Dalmere shouted, just as Roriahna El'Jeren cried, 'Such practices would surely corrupt us further!' Murmurs began to spread amongst the others, growing louder until Jean had to enhance her voice with Angel-Magic to shout, 'Silence!' That brought the attention of all, as she continued, saying, 'We must consider that this corruption may cause problems for all female wielders, regardless of whether we investigate such advantages. I see potential for greatness in Lira Tolnock's theory, however. If we could learn to control the minds of demons, we could use them as our own soldiers to fight against the hordes of other beasts that confront us in battle.'

That brought more shocked gasps and whispers from the women as Jean said, 'I do not suggest we indulge in such practices regularly. I only insist that it may save lives if used effectively in situations where it is deemed necessary. An axe wielding Boli-Kuldr under mind control could do serious damage to a horde of Nymloc and Jacoulra.'

'My concern is that this practice will very likely infect the minds of the female wielders in the same way that Jinn-Magic on teron drives male wielders into madness,' Lira said.

'Then such practices must be outlawed,' Jean said. 'We cannot allow this infection to corrupt the minds and souls of Ael Tarael any more than it may do by its own natural course. We must make a new decree that outlaws any such practices: that shall be known as the Jinn Arts. We will study the effects of Druantia's curse over the coming weeks in an attempt to discover the true nature of it and its potential to do harm.' Just then Adem entered, with Carl at his side. Orion and Elmira following after, trailed by Tobin and Lydia.

The two former kings were in Alit'aren black, as were Adem and Carl. Lydia wore a blue silk dress, with a white woollen cloak, and Elmira wore a white silk dress, embroidered with white patterns of birds and fish, with an aqua woollen cloak embroidered with gold scrollwork. Jean had allowed them to keep all of the clothes they had stored in the chests in their tents, and she allowed them a weekly wage to buy more clothing, as well as other items of necessity.

Lydia and Elmira still looked at her as if she had betrayed the trust that they gave her, and in a way, she had. However, she saw more forgiveness in their eyes than the darkness that glowed in the eyes of Tobin and Orion, a sure sign of the necessity for her decision. Adem also had a darkness burning in his eyes more often than not these days. He had been nearly a full year without his medication, and these battles where he was forced to draw immense amounts of teron were surely making his illness spread. Adem wore his sword in the black scabbard scrawled with a golden dragon, and Carl held his glowing spear like a walking staff.

Lira and Jean then caught the new arrivals up to speed on what had been discussed previously, and then Adem introduced his desire to seek out this mysterious source of power known as the Heart of Odin.

'Adem Highlander has suggested breaking the armies into two halves,' Lydia explained. 'One half to follow Adem Highlander to seek out the Heart of Odin, and the other half to follow Jean Fairsythe to Rutheldor.' That started a fire of rage in Jean's heart, and she stared holes through Adem's skull as she said, 'Is that so?' Adem seemed to sense the danger of her temperament, and spoke up, saying, 'It was just a suggestion, Daughter of Thor. I am willing to discuss it further with our advisors. I was just trying to negotiate a way to increase our potential to reach our goals by spreading our resources.' Jean was aware that Adem's new advisors were Tobin, Orion, Lydia and Elmira, which belittled her, though she did not mention it here with so many witnesses. By appointing those four as his advisors, Adem had gone over her head entirely, though she knew he would make such a move when she took away their crowns. They were still a wealth of knowledge even after all they'd lost. They were more than worthy of such position.

'Yes, I agree completely,' Jean said. 'I think we should set out tomorrow morning, each of us leading the first waves of the two separate forces, separate from one another, without contact or ability to come to each other's rescue. I think you have made a fine decision, Adem Highlander.' She sensed that sinking feeling in Adem immediately, as a result of her words, but she assumed it was also from his sense of the white-hot fury inside her.

'Jean, it was just a suggestion,' Adem said, before she cut him off saying, 'The decision is made, we leave tomorrow at sunrise, and may the best man win!' She finished with her arms folded under her breasts, tapping her foot in that way that warned him to consider his next words very carefully. Finally, he bowed his head and said, 'If you command it, White Snow Fox, I will humbly obey.' This time Jean felt a sinking feeling in her heart, because that had not gone at all the way she had hoped.

Chapter 6

To Forge Leadership

Jean stood in her tent, fastening her bow strap over her crimson armour. Terese stared at her and said, 'It was your decision, Jean. Adem would gladly stay by your side, but you basically commanded him to go off in search of the Heart of Odin.' Jean sniffed and said, 'It is nothing to worry over. He made his choice, plain and simple. It is clear to me now that love comes second to power in the heart of Adem Highlander.'

'Well personally I'm thrilled with the situation,' Terese said with a sly grin. 'We can focus on your training, and you can start to command large forces without the guidance of the Sons of Odin. It will be your first chance to forge leadership.'

'I think you're just satisfied that Adem and I are now unable to meet in secret in the middle of the night,' Jean said.

'I admit I'm pleased about that too,' Terese said, 'but I am concerned for your fragile state of mind, Jean. I see this separation will be hard on you; and on Adem too. I just hope that it will be another character-building experience for you both.' Jean reached for the dark velvet cloak and fastened it around her neck with a silver fox-head pin. She wore a crimson silk coat and skirt, with red boots and blue silk stockings. Terese wore a long dark blue woollen coat and blue leather boots, with red silk stockings. A thick brown-leather waist-belt holding her sword in its ornate gold-and-silver scabbard.

'I have no problem with spending time apart from him,' Jean said. 'I just wonder at his sudden change of heart. Up till now he has run to my side at every sign of danger. Surely, he knows there may be more attacks during the time we are apart. Does he not care for me anymore?' She was sincere in that question, wearing a pout that made Terese's dark eyes sparkle with restrained rage as she said, 'That's exactly what I'm talking about! He toys with your emotions until you have the wits of a giggling girl. You should see yourself now, Jean Fairsythe, pouting like a child who has lost her dolly. I swear if he was any other than one of the Chosen, I would have strung him up by his neck months ago!'

'But you didn't answer my question,' Jean sighed. 'Do you think he still loves me?'

'Of course, I do, Jean,' Adem said, stepping into the tent in his usual black coat and trousers, with knee-high brown leather boots. She was surprised at his proximity, as she hadn't sensed him approaching. His mood was calm, his form surrounded by the bright glow of the morning sunlight. She was embarrassed that he'd heard part of her conversation with Terese. Though she wanted to hear the words again, so she asked, 'How much do you love me, Adem Highlander?'

'I love you like a fish needs water to breathe,' Adem replied, 'and like a bird needs wings to fly. I love you more than a plant needs light to grow, more than day and night, stars and moonlight. I love you more than anything, Jean Fairsythe.' He wore his most charming grin at the end of that little speech. It was something like what he'd said to her when he proposed. She smiled, and then threw her arms around him to plant a soft kiss on his lips. He wore that startled expression he often showed when she was impulsive.

'Then why must we be apart?' She asked with a pout, as his eyes started to bulge, and he pulled away from her to say, 'Jean, it was your idea. I know I thought of it first, but it was just a suggestion, to save some time and do some greater good. I can't bear the thought of being apart from you. It will be agony to think that you are so far away and that I can't come to your rescue. But let's change the plans. Let's all go to Rutheldor together. The rebel problem can wait as far as I'm concerned—' Terese cut him off mid speech to say, 'Not a chance, Adem Highlander. You have your duty and Jean has her own path to follow. We cannot allow the rebel Alit'aren problem to fester in the Borderlands. You must part ways for a short time. I will protect her; I give you my word.'

Adem looked to Terese as he said, 'I'll hold you personally responsible if anything happens to her.'

'Nothing will happen,' Terese said. 'Now go, Son of Odin. Go and search out your destiny.' Adem smiled at Jean and gave an adequate bow, then turned to walk out as he said, 'We will be together again soon, my love.' Jean snorted at his charming manner as she replied, 'So long as you don't lose your head over some pretty Borderland barmaid.' That put a nervous frown on his face, as he tilted his head again and said, 'Farewell.'

***

Adem returned to his tent to put on black armour, worked with golden serpentine dragons across the chest. Carl's was similar, only crimson with black dragons. Both wore Alit'aren black, with the Sons of Odin Rohjor pins on their high collars, the Wolf, Lion and Dragon. Adem fastened his bow across his back as Carl fastened his bow case straps across his chest. They didn't wear their Aldebrand cloaks today as the sun was bright and the air slightly humid, not ideal weather for riding in heavy armour. They ate a hot breakfast of fried eggs and bacon with baked bread and beans, washed down with goat's milk that made Adem grimace from the taste.

When their horses were saddled and Adem was putting a foot into the right stirrup, he saw Jean and Terese on their white horses; moving off through the crowds of soldiers that served as their personal guard. Dozens of Aldebrands also formed the inner circle of that guard, and Adem was surrounded by a similar scene. Wil and Hayley arrived shortly after, and it was no surprise to Adem that Wil wished to join his wife on the journey to Rutheldor. He understood Wil's need to be there to watch over Hayley at all times. He knew he would need Wil in the Borderlands in case there were more battles, and he also required the show of strength of all three Sons of Odin for diplomacy with the rebels and the Immortal Princes.

However, he gave in and said to Wil, 'Go with your wife, if it puts your mind at ease. We will wait for you on the Green Border, sending word of our location as we travel in search of the Heart of Odin.' Wil bowed from the saddle, wearing Alit'aren black under a dark blue shining breastplate.

'Thank you, Adem,' Wil said. 'Until we meet again, stay strong, vigilant and brave, but remember to be kind, compassionate and also be trustful of those who serve you, in service to the All-Father.'

'Until that time, Brother,' Adem replied, with a tilt of his head. Wil and Carl then exchanged brief words, before Wil and Hayley rode off after Jean and Terese.

Orion and Tobin arrived shortly after, on their dark war horses—something else Jean had allowed them to keep—both wearing Alit'aren black under black breastplates worked with golden dragons. Elmira and Lydia followed on their white mares, both in blue silk riding gowns, with white woollen cloaks embroidered with black foxes. The two former kings had started wearing the Wolf, Lion and Dragon pins on their collars also.

There were thousands of Alit'aren and Aldebrands wearing the bright masks and gauntlets of the ghoda'sidhe this morning, with fewer Torvellen wearing the camouflage styled torin'sidhe. The first waves of riders in both armies were all on altherin horses. They would allow the horses to rest enough to stay healthy, though they would also push them to try to reach their destinations without encountering any danger. Again, there was no ceremony or speeches before they departed, just a sounding of horns and shouts from commanders as the horses began to mobilise.

Kelderath led Adem's first wave of riders, and Maldros and Morthros led the forces that were destined for Rutheldor. Most of the Dremelden joined Jean's company, including Lord Farrigan and Lady Gwyndel, while the rest of the two forces were mostly made up of Ael Tarael, Alit'aren, Aldebrands and Nordic soldiers. There were about five thousand riders in each party; all carrying supplies as there were no servants amongst the first wave. Kelderath rode a few horse lines ahead of Adem and Carl, with Lydia and Elmira riding behind them, shadowed by their husbands.

The first hour was a slow trot across the green fields, to allow the horses to warm up. Jean's army was just visible in the distance when the horses started to pick up speed, then the landscape began to shift and change in a blur of motion, as the five thousand riders moved in unison, like a school of fish navigating on a sea of green. Korhad was their first destination, and they should reach the Borderland Kingdom in five days, if they made camp early each day, to allow the horses to gain sufficient rest. The horses would graze on the fields during those days. Altherin horses often spent months in the East Lands, feeding only on the tiny stubbles of fresh growth that sprouted through the dark earth.

They allowed the horses to have three half hour breaks during the eight hours of riding on the first day, moving at a trot for that time then returning to the incredible speeds of the immortal horses. They made camp in the late afternoon; small cook fires were started to roast the rabbits that were caught in the fading light. Otherwise they ate dried beef, flat bread and cheese from their ration packs. Adem and Carl and the former Immortal Kings and Queens were all afforded some slices of rabbit meat, that was sizzling hot and juicy.

After eating, Adem and Carl watched Tobin and Orion practice the forms in the firelight. After a time, Orion shouted to Adem, 'Join us, you must keep up your practice.' Adem stood and moved to stand in between the two Aldebrands, both with their swords glowing in the darkness. Adem drew his blade and it shone pale blue, then he moved through the series of forms that he had watched the men perform. Tobin and Orion copied him at the same time, the three of them moving with graceful precision.

Adem focused himself with the Tar'deith, or the True Flow, giving him a heightened sense of awareness, similar to when he wielded teron. He began with Silent Shepherd; the blade slicing through the air around both sides of his body, a warding series of moves that could also be deadly if the enemy was in range. Then he stepped forward, slicing the blade down from high above in what was called Silver Crane Swoops, then turning slightly and cutting down slightly, and horizontal, in an arc of the blade known as Sickle Moon, then bringing the blade up high again, then slicing downwards, in the form known as Crimson Sun.

'Good,' Orion said, 'the Tar'deith is strong in you. I can sense it in your presence.' Adem had never known that was possible before now, though he had resisted touching teron as he thought it would offend Orion and Tobin, as they were restricted to wielding only once a week.

'How can you sense it?' He asked Orion, to which the Immortal Aldebrand replied, 'The True Flow is a part of Angel-Magic. Any who can wield teron will learn to sense the Tar'deith flowing in those around them. In time you will learn to sense it in your opponents.'

After sword practice Adem sat by the fire next to Carl, and the two of them spoke in hushed tones about the possibility of using wormholes to warp reality and move across great distances in one step. Carl explained that he was getting more confident in his ability to judge where a wormhole would lead, if he expanded its size, though he said this was only theoretical in regard to a potential destination. They knew their words could be heard by the dozens of immortals who stood or sat nearby, though they kept their voices low to suggest they wanted privacy.

'It could work,' Carl said, 'or it might not. I don't want to take such risks while we have other pressing issues to take up our time. For now, our fastest mode of travel is the one we have chosen for this journey.' Adem pondered this before he replied, 'Yes, but consider the potential of being able to transport an entire army of fifty thousand or more people, from one side of Kismeria to the other, in the few hours it takes for them to pass through one of these wormholes. It would be a great advantage if you could figure out a way to do this, and to teach the spells to the Ael Tarael. Perhaps some Alit'aren may even be able to practice the spells for times when they are the only wielders available.'

'I see your point,' Carl said with a concerned frown, 'but I am not ready to try. There is a danger working with the energy of a wormhole too, Adem. I think they have the potential to be a powerful explosive if they are handled incorrectly.'

'How powerful do you think they could be?' Adem asked with interest.

'Not as dangerous as an atomic blast,' Carl said, 'but still capable of wiping out a sizable force with one explosion. My point is, that could be us, if we try and I fumble with the spells. Be patient, Adem. We will reach the rebels in time to stop them from making trouble with the Immortal Princes.'

***

Jean and her army made camp in the fading light, after crossing considerable distance. At this pace they should reach Rutheldor a day to two after Adem and his forces arrived at Korhad. They had moved due north the entire day, with the Mithrim Mountains bordering them to the west. They camped between the mountains and a large forested area known as Drelgora. Formally a Dremelden Kingdom, the forest once stretched much further in all directions. It was home to some of the ancient Great Trees. There was a concern about Nymloc and Jacoulra lurking in the forest, hiding themselves in the shadows to remain undetectable to Aldebrands. So, they sent Aldebrand scouts, with Ael Tarael and Alit'aren, to investigate, testing what they could sense within the depths of Drelgora.

If Lira Tolnock's theory about the Jinn Arts was accurate, it should be possible for Ael Tarael and Alit'aren to also become aware of the presence of demons. She would have to add this to the lists of new studies to be conducted. That was another responsibility she had taken on in recent weeks. Not only was she the enforcer of punishments against Alit'aren who disobeyed the new decree, she was expected to organise the Ael Tarael in their studies of potential new discoveries. She didn't mind the extra work involved, though it began to eat away at the spare hours of her day.

There were no tents brought on this journey, no luxuries to indulge herself with in the evening hours. Her sleeping blanket lay next to Terese's, with Lady Gwyndel and Lord Farrigan close by. Those sleeping quarters were close to a large fire, where fowl and rabbits were being roasted on spits. Around them would be a substantial watch of Aldebrands, as well as patrolling Alit'aren and Ael Tarael. Hayley and Wil also set up their blankets within that protective circle, and the rest of the camp surrounded them in a large ring of soldiers and horse lines. Still, it was a vulnerable army, compared to the forces they had left behind. There was great risk in this bold a move, but time was pressing them in two directions at once. The bulk of the remaining army would travel to Korhad, to reach the Green Border in two to three weeks. The summer heat had dried out the muddy hills and grasslands after the spring thaw, to the point where carts and wagons could travel much faster than the first few weeks they set out.

Jean would recruit a sizable force of Ael Tarael and Alit'aren from Rutheldor, mostly mortals most likely, as Rutheldor was the castle where mortal wielders ruled. It was built close to Nordhel, to support the Green Border, though it was situated a greater distance from the Borderlands. Mortal wielders were considered the more fragile race compared to immortals. After eating some roasted meats and flat breads, Jean and Hayley sat facing one another on their blankets in front of the fire. Wil and Terese stood close by, and Lauren Celman stood closer to instruct them in linking together with Angel-Magic, in the hope that Jean could study the infection.

'Form the link, Jean,' Lauren said, that expression of awe was somewhat subdued on her face this evening, when she gazed at Jean and Hayley. Jean opened herself to terael, and then allowed Hayley to touch Angel-Magic also; she sensed the woman held more than was necessary, though not so much that it would overwhelm Jean when she took hold of the link. Jean reached into that wellspring of Angel-Magic that Hayley held onto, the warmth and light of terael filling her to more than three times her normal capacity, even more than she could hold if she were using Tanriel to increase her strength. She wanted to laugh from the glow of ecstasy that was also enough to bring her to tears.

She restrained herself, focused on the Angel-Magic and the new taint, that flowed from Hayley into Druantia, and then into all female Great Angels and into terael itself. The feeling was very similar to what she had sensed of the Jinn-Magic concentration within teron. A sickly rancid darkness corrupting purity, it had a distinct detestable odour to it too, like mould and decay, it burnt her nostrils until they flared with disgust. It made her want to vomit, though the pure half kept her senses reeling in pleasure and harmony. She could level mountains holding this much Angel-Magic, though her only thoughts were on finding a cure to this abomination.

Tanriel slept within the confines of her Resting Point, like a child in the womb, dreaming of great battles and endless magic, though she too burnt with the Darkness that was infecting them all. If the curse began to drive all female Battle Angels into a state of madness, there was no hope for Kismeria. If it began to poison female wielders in the same way, they were surely doomed. As she felt around that dark plague, she began to sense that connection to evil Lira Tolnock had spoken about. It seemed that if she dipped her senses into the Darkness, she could see and feel evil itself, understand it, and control it. There was the evidence that it could be used to control the minds of demons, as all demons were under the control of Jinn-Fendinn. This curse seemed to be an actual part of Fendinn's soul.

Hayley sat calmly, her liquid dark eyes revealing that sly knowing that was so common in her since her changes. She was now only holding a small part of the link, and her expression showed indifference for both terael and the curse.

Jean on the other hand was breathing heavily, and close to breaking into a sweat. It made her nervous to hold so much Angel-Magic, though Lauren had instructed that it would increase her ability to sense the curse and how to treat it.

'What do you see, child?' Lauren asked; that look of awe returned to her crystal blue eyes.

'It originates with her,' Jean replied between short breaths, her disdain clearly marked in the way she said it. 'It cannot be stopped, and it will eventually infect all female Great Angels. It is a dark plague, possibly as dangerous as Jinn-Magic within teron, though I am not certain.'

'What is it made of, child?' Lauren asked.

'Pure evil,' Jean said, and then she began to gasp from the flood of Angel-Magic that filled her! Hayley was feeding her double the original levels, making her six times her normal strength! With that much Angel-Magic, she thought she could even defeat the three Sons of Odin, linked! She was bathed in light; pure and incandescent, the Darkness so putrid it made her feel that her insides were burning. She began to laugh, a giggling of pure delight, her head falling back as she gazed at the stars that seemed to shine like spotlights.

'Release the Angel-Magic!' Lauren ordered in urgent tones. 'You are holding too much, Jean Fairsythe! It is very dangerous for us all, but for you most especially!' Jean sighed deeply as she released the link and allowed the Angel-Magic to drain from her system. She lay back, gasping for breath, the stars had returned to their normal hue. Then she began to laugh again, a loud release of all her emotions, from happiness to deep sorrow, she finished in silent shakes of pain and suffering. 'Evidently it does have the potential to cause madness,' she said, when she was sitting upright again, her arms folded over her knees.

'Are you certain?' Lauren asked.

'No,' Jean replied, 'but I fear Lira Tolnock was correct about the risks of playing with the Jinn Arts. The curse on terael is a part of the Jinn-Lord. It is Demon Magic. We will outlaw any attempts to obtain advantages.'

***

Adem lay down, resting his head on the puffed-up blanket that was his substitute for a pillow. Carl lay next to him, breathing softly in the beginnings of sleep. Aldebrands and Alit'aren still patrolled the campsite, in their bright armour, or dark coats and trousers, many wearing the bright masks and gauntlets of the ghoda'sidhe. Ael Tarael in brightly coloured silk dresses, and cloaks of velvet or wool, also stepped lithely behind the Alit'aren, like foxes, walking in the footsteps of wolves, that might turn on them at any moment. The Alit'aren had also practiced with their swords, during the time Adem worked the forms with Tobin and Orion.

Now their swords were sheathed, and they talked in hushed tones to allow the Sons of Odin and the former kings and queens to rest for the night. Tobin and Lydia slept to the left side of Adem. Orion and Elmira slept to the right of Carl's blanket. They did not need to sleep every night; immortals could go for weeks without sufficient rest and still retain their senses, though Lydia and Elmira were enforcing new rules for their husbands after their fall from power. The former queens felt that their husbands required more rest to resist the effects of Jinn-Magic, and this was most likely the correct form of treatment, other than the daily Healing-Magic they received from their wives.

Adem closed his eyes, and practiced the spell of Nightshade, to cover his Hero Chains from the eyes of his enemies, who would hunt for him in his dreams. It was a practice taught to him by Torin Modrellock, his former trainer in Angel-Magic.

He let sleep drift over him, colours swirling in the darkness behind his eyelids, shapes changing and turning into a myriad of patterns and figurines. As a boy he had seen these visions as a kaleidoscope of colour and light, taking the form of rows of teddy bears, toy trains and cars, the delight of a child's mind. Tonight, he saw patterns of Alit'aren facing Ael Tarael in open warfare, blossoms of Angel-Magic filled the sky and the visions became images of carnage under the weight of such explosive energy. It was not a vision of the future, not a real vision anyway, just a compilation of the thoughts and information that had been embedded within his psyche since his arrival in Kismeria, a prophecy of doom ...

He was on a boat of shining light, in the shape of a Viking ship, with shields of many colours bolted to the sides that also glowed transparent. The boat moved across dark waters, where large shapes broke the surface to reveal giant fins of sea serpents; skeletons of men chained to the scaled flesh of giant fish, with heads like some kind of lizard beast.

Where am I? He wondered. What is this place?

A falcon swooped down from the dark sky above, where silver lined black clouds blossomed red from forked lightning. In the distance was land with dark shores, and a dark tower rose amongst fortified walls of black stone. A red light glowed in the top level of the tower, like a lighthouse, its beam sweeping over the water towards his boat. The falcon was white feathered, with blue wing tips and a red beak. Its eyes were large golden balls that glowed like lanterns. The bird spread its wings and made a loud cawing sound, similar to a raven, then the bird turned black as coal, shining in the light of the liquid full moon. It was a raven! He reached for his sword but found that it was not hanging from his belt.

It cawed again, a sound that made him flinch, though he stood with feet spread and arms crossed over his chest. 'I do not fear you,' he said. Suddenly dozens more of the black feathered birds swooped down out of the night sky, clustering together in a pile on the deck of the ship. A figure began to rise from those dark squawking mounds. The figure was a shadow cloaked man with a mask of a silver human skull, similar to Arawn, though he knew this was one of the Hex-Warlords! Golden flames burnt within the eye sockets of the mask. It drew a sword of blood red fire with a sound of sliding steel.

Adem cried, 'Arawn!' But nothing happened; his Battle Angel did not appear.

The deep booming chuckle of the Hex-Warlord echoed in his ears, then the figure spoke in a voice of thunder, saying, 'Your spirit pets will not serve you in this place, Son of Odin.' The tone of the High-Servant was surprisingly calm, and Adem then realised he didn't sense the overwhelming force of evil, that he had felt from another of the High-Servants. This one he guessed to be Tairark Vampire-King, as the human skulled mask had long silver fangs. The lips of a man spoke below those fangs, skin like ash that looked capable of crumbling at a touch.

'Why have you brought me here?' Adem asked.

'I did not bring you, Son of Odin. You visit this place by your own choosing.'

'Why would I do that? This place looks like it must be in the East Lands.'

'It is,' came the voice like thunder, 'and it is your true home, Son of Odin.'

'You're a liar!' Adem shouted. 'This place is evil! I vow to destroy it!'

'This place draws you to it,' said Tairark. 'This place is a part of you, a part of your flesh and bones, your very soul. You call it evil, but we amongst the High-Servants call it the blessings of the High-Jinn.' Adem scoffed at Tairark's naming Fendinn as the High Jinn!

'You speak of our curse,' Adem said. 'What of it?'

'It is your destiny to join us, Adem Highlander, you and your Brothers. The three Sons of Odin shall stand even higher than the High-Servants, when you join with the High-Jinn and his Jinn-Magic.'

'I will never join you!'

'You will join us in time, Son of Odin. Already the High-Jinn's gift flows in your veins, driving you to abandon your weak and pathetic armies, and to make the High-Servants your allies in battle. This shall come to pass, Adem Highlander, as it is a part of the Dark Prophecies, that the Sons of Odin shall destroy the people of Kismeria.' Tairark held the red glowing sword pointed down to the deck of the ship, it seemed the man had come to bargain with him.

'I will destroy every last one of you!' Adem shouted.

'You shall join us, and you shall slaughter millions in a mad wrath!' That deep booming laughter followed.

'I will find a way to defeat you first!' Adem shouted; his hands at his sides in clenched fists.

'Think on it, Son of Odin, in time you will know it is your true destiny.' The dark figure began to melt until it formed the same pile of squawking ravens that took flight. The echo of deep thunderous laughter still echoed in his ears.

He sat upright on his sleeping blanket, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Carl lay sleeping at his side, as did the former kings and their wives. Was it just a nightmare? He wondered. No! It was real! Was he fated to turn mad and destroy this world? The Dark Prophecies ... could they be as truthful as the Prophecies of the All-Father?

'Riddles to solve,' he whispered, to himself.

Chapter 7

The Immortal Prince

Adem and his forces arrived at the walls of Korhad on the fourth day, after pushing the horses beyond their limits, and making camp in the fading light each day. The city of Korhad was equal in size to Nordhel, sixty feet high dark stone walls, with watchtowers rising over twice that height, positioned around the diamond shaped fortress, that was at the peak of a large hill, in the centre of the city. The roads were all paved stone, and the streets and laneways were mostly wide enough to lead a charge of cavalry through, six or eight abreast. The main road—called the Korhel Road—was three times as wide, allowing carts and wagons to move side by side towards the markets and shops, that were mostly rectangular dark stone, with narrow arrow slits, built as a place for defending the city.

Most buildings were three or four stories tall, some of blue stone or whitewashed brick, but usually dark stone, that Tobin explained came from a mine at the feet of the mountain ranges that formed the Green Border.

When they reached the fortress stable yards, their horses were taken by stablemen in dark livery slashed with red or blue across the chest, dark bearded immortal men mostly with that dangerous glow to their eyes. There were some mortals within the city, mostly servants, though some were soldiers led by noblemen from the southern Kingdoms of the Borderlands.

The hallways within Korhad were nothing compared to the splendour of Nordhel, dark stone walls washed with pale light from lanterns that glowed day and night, to try to push back any shadows, where a Shadowsouled may place a Jhin-Tap; allowing Souljhin to enter to assassinate Prince Lune. They met with the prince on one of the higher levels of the fortress, after passing through hallways, where the walls were lined with shiny armour, or weapons of every shape and size imaginable.

Lune Dawnrider was a slender immortal, with a youthful face that reminded Adem of Lydia more than Tobin. His eyes were crystal blue and his hair golden, tied in a tail with a leather cord. 'Mother, Father, I have heard the terrible news,' Lune began, when he saw Lydia and Tobin enter his chambers, 'and we will put this travesty to right again. I swear it! There are none who can take away what is given by right of birth or marriage, the Holy Blessings to rule the immortal races, and all the peoples of Kismeria.'

'Our time to rule has passed, my son,' Lydia said, as Lune took her outstretched hands and kissed her cheeks. 'The Daughter of Thor stands higher than any ruler in all the lands; and she has made this clear to us. Know well that we do not hold any animosity towards her for this decision. You must also show her respect when you meet her. It is your time to make a move towards kingship, my son, you and your brothers, and there will be others who will try to take that claim away from you.'

'If I am made king,' Lune said, 'the first thing I shall do, is to re-crown the King and Queen of the Nordics and the Torvellen.'

'Have you not heard my words, dear child?' Lydia asked. 'The word of the White Snow Fox cannot be challenged, for it would usurp the very power that she holds to protect us from Jinn-Fendinn. No, you will not attempt to reinstate our titles, my son. You will make your claim for the crown, as it is you amongst our three sons who I have always seen as the most levelheaded, and compassionate. You are more my son than you are your fathers, you should have the crown.'

'That will have to be decided over many months of discussion in the Chambers of Ruling,' Tobin said, 'and my other two sons are first and second in line for the throne ahead of Lune, who was our third born.'

'You speak wisely, Father,' Lune replied. 'But let us talk of such things after you are fed and rested. Consider the palace your home while you are here. I will not allow you to miss out on the luxuries you are accustomed to, while you stay under my roof. Welcome too, Adem Highlander and Carl Wilder. I know you both by name as your faces have been accurately described to me by many messengers. But where is the third Son of Odin, Wil Martyr?'

'They are delayed with other pressing matters,' Lydia said. 'Your hospitality is welcomed, my son. Remember that we are never allowed to command servants or soldiers as if they are our own. We are common men and women now, only given status by retaining our names of fame and our duties, as Ael Tarael and Aldebrand Alit'aren.'

'I understand, Mother. Now please, everyone; follow me.'

***

Jean's army arrived at Rutheldor two days earlier than they expected, as they had pushed the horses harder than originally planned. Rutheldor was a smaller city and castle compared with Nordhel, rectangular grey stone fortifications, with watch towers standing more than double the height of the walls. The castle itself was a network of rectangular slabs, layered in formations that looked to be built for size and strength, rather than beauty. It was nightfall when they arrived; lanterns glowed in stone posts on the paved streets and through the narrow windows, fit for archers forming a defence. The castle windows were similar on the lower floors, with some stained glass within casements on the higher levels. Ael Tarael and Alit'aren moved about on the busy streets, amongst the swarms of soldiers, servants, farmers and citizens who were in a state of revelry to celebrate the arrival of the Daughter of Thor. A rider had arrived at the city a day ahead of them, to announce that Jean and her entourage would soon be arriving.

The inns and taverns they passed were a sea of drunken men and women, dancing and singing to the many musicians that played in the ale houses or on the paved stone streets. They cheered and waved as Jean passed by on her white mare, Terese close beside her on a white horse that had replaced the grey one she had become accustomed to. Hayley and Wil were close behind, Wil on his brown colt, and Hayley riding a white mare with black spots on its hide.

Maldros and Morthros led the procession, with a heavy guard in front and at the rear, in case of any Shadowsouled lurking in the shadows. But Jean's thoughts were with her Battle Angel, Tanriel, who seemed to be sulking in the shadows of the curse on terael. This was the reason she had come here—the reason she no longer had Adem at her side as protector—she had come to find a cure.

A delegation of mortal Ael Tarael and Alit'aren greeted them at the steps of Castle Rutheldor, the women in bright silks and jewels and the men in their usual dark coats and trousers. The Ael Tarael assured Jean that the new decree had been upheld since it was introduced, and that seven Alit'aren had already been blocked from teron after sentence was passed.

Seven men who are sure to die, she thought to herself, with a stab of guilt. The decree was invented by Carl, but she was the enforcer, as it seemed no one else was capable or willing. 'Your decision was just and fitting,' Jean replied. 'All we can do now is pray for those who lose the gift of Angel-Magic.' Half a dozen Aldebrands had also been contained and blocked, after going mad and unleashing Angel-Magic against innocent victims. That was a small number, considering how fast Jinn-Magic could infect the minds of mortals. The banishment on wielding had come just in time, though it was still a melting pot waiting to boil over.

They met with Lord Londrak and Lady Elviara, who ruled Rutheldor, in a large rectangular room of grey stone walls, where large tapestries and paintings were hung of ancient battles and heroes of legend. A finely painted work that depicted the Heroes of Will included a likeness of Terese Sapphire-Sword, wielding her sword of white fire. Jean wondered if the artist had actually witnessed the unleashing of the Heroes from the Harp of Souls. Lady Elviara noticed Jean musing over the painting, then she gaped when she recognized Terese.

'I had heard that Lady Sapphire-Sword was a member of your personal guard,' Elviara said, 'though I had believed it to be only rumour. I see that I was mistaken.' Elviara was Ael Tarael, and her husband Londrak Baltoven was Alit'aren. They were not king and queen, as such a ruler had not existed in Rutheldor for over a thousand years, though they had unquestionable command over all mortal wielders.

Elviara had the pretty face of a twenty-one-year-old, with large blue eyes and golden locks. Though when her expressions changed, she had the look of one much older, suggesting she was perhaps over fifty. Londrak appeared much older and wizened, his dark eyes stirred with the memories of over a hundred years or more, though his smooth face looked no older than mid-forties. He had a close-cropped black beard and moustache, in Alit'aren black, while Elviara wore bright red silk, under a dark velvet cloak. Her jewels were all rubies, including a large one hanging from her neck that was similar to Hayley's. Jean assumed the woman changed her jewellery to match her outfits. She didn't appear self-indulged, just self-important. Londrak held a commanding presence, though he seemed to defer to his wife's better judgement in dealing with the White Snow Fox.

'We have come here to discuss the curse on terael,' Jean said. 'Rutheldor is well known for its great Healer-Magicians, and the study of cures. I wish to discover a cure for this curse, so I have brought the root of this infection, Hayley Martyr, wife to one of the Sons of Odin, and wielder of the Battle Angel, Druantia.' A great sigh swept through the ranks of Ael Tarael who stood listening around the room. There were over forty of the brightly clad women, and only a dozen Alit'aren standing like tense lions. 'Know that the blame also falls to me, the Daughter of Thor, for this curse that now infects the female half of Angel-Magic. It was due to a fault of better judgement, that I allowed Hayley to join with Druantia through the kigare.

'I will not allow anyone to judge this woman for what has befallen our source of might. Hayley Martyr is under my protection for as long as she lives. None shall cause her harm; none shall turn her away when she requires sustenance or lodging, in this land or any other. This decree shall stand until the Second Arrival, by order of the Daughter of Thor.' There was silence following that speech, and she looked around to see many faces pale with terror. They knew what Hayley was; rumour of a vampire that can walk in the daylight would have spread like wildfire, especially a vampire woman who is wed to Wil Martyr. She wondered if they went pale at the way she phrased the word sustenance, meaning fresh blood. Jean knew such a decree would be followed in places like Rutheldor, though in small towns and villages, Hayley may find herself being burnt at the stake.

***

Adem sat in a stall, within one of the darker taverns, in the Horse Quarter of Korhad. Prince Lune sat across the table from him, with Carl seated on the outside chair. Tobin and Orion stood at the bar, talking with the owner, a man they both knew well apparently. Dailen Aldronick was a former soldier in the armies of Korhad, now he was retired at age seven hundred and something, dark of hair with a grey tinged beard and moustache. The man was solid, with a deep chest beneath his spotless white apron and pale brown shirt. He still had the look of one used to commanding soldiers.

Lydia and Elmira sat at a table close to the bar. Their Aldebrand husbands often glanced in their direction, for any sign of a threat from would be assassins. The heads of the former Kings and Queens of the Immortals would still pay a lucrative price. The two women sipped spiced red wines, from goblets that looked reserved for special guests. Adem's mug of pale ale was glass, and larger than a pint. So, he sipped his also.

The main room was quite large, rectangular, with the bar on the east wall and round wooden tables spread to the west. Large fires burnt on the north and south ends, and it was a cool night for summer weather.

Adem and Carl wore their usual Alit'aren black, Adem with his sword, and Carl with his spear reduced to the smaller length, to fit in his belt loop. Neither had brought their Aldebrand cloaks or their Lukrorian Bows. Lune wore a dark blue silk vest, over a white shirt with gold buttons, dark trousers and knee-high black leather boots. His Aldebrand cloak was thrown across the spare side of his bench seat, with his sword Glimmerwarden resting on top in its dark blue scabbard, encrusted with emeralds and sapphires. 'We must move cautiously if you wish your plans to work,' Lune said. 'My brothers will contest any claim I make to the Nordic throne. They are both warriors of great fame across the Green Border. I myself am known more as a keen strategist, someone who can find ways out of situations where others may find a stalemate. If you learn to use this skill of mine, I think we can reach our goals.'

'A strategic mind is often more valuable than courage or strength,' Adem said, 'particularly amongst great leaders. I have not met either of your brothers yet, Prince Lune, though I am confident you are the one we need to make ruler of Nordhel, in the hope of bringing peace between the rebels and our armies.'

'I must admit I am nervous over the concept of being king,' Lune whispered. 'I am young for a leader amongst immortals, and I have always felt that my brothers were better at taking charge.' Adem noticed Kailus Broeduthar, and Jothar Kelderath, glancing protectively towards Lydia and Elmira also. Kelderath had two dozen of his soldiers spread throughout the room, in casual clothing, to blend in. Adem considered this tavern one of the shadier ones in the city. Its patrons were a mixture of nobility and merchants, with other men who looked more likely to slit your throat than rob you. Why the prince had chosen this tavern was beyond Adem, other than the fact that Tobin and Orion knew the owner. The thought took his eyes back to the three men standing at the bar, as Adem began to wonder whether the former kings were in fact secretly scheming with those they still held influence over.

Adem noticed one of those dark auras around three disreputable looking immortal men in the room. What happened next was a blur of motion—

Adem stood to push past Carl—nearly knocking his friend tumbling—drawing his sword as the three men drew long daggers. They leapt from their chairs, moving towards Lydia and Elmira. They were closer to the women than Adem was, though unleashing Arawn in this space could cause anarchy. So, he shouted, 'Assassins!' He pointed at the three, who were pushing past occupied chairs. They were thick muscled, in dark coats and trousers, though they were not Alit'aren.

Tobin and Orion spun to draw their blades, Orion's marked by glowing golden runes and Tobin's emerald. The two former kings moved with supernatural speed. One moment they were at the bar, then in a flicker of motion they flowed around Lydia and Elmira. Tobin's and Orion's blades hacked through the men amidst spurts of bright red blood. River Warden turning into Fire Hawk, becoming Halo Fist and finishing with Serpent Strike.

The three assassins collapsed in a massacred heap, their blood seeping out onto the tiled floor. Lydia and Elmira stepped onto their chairs to avoid it staining their best dresses. The third had fallen with three knife hilts sticking out of his back. Most likely courtesy of Kailus and Kelderath. Tobin and Orion had both driven their blades through the man's chest as their finishing move.

'Is there any more of you?' Orion shouted. The remaining patrons began to look sickly, particularly the more disreputable looking fellows.

'Were they Shadowsouled?' Lydia asked. 'Or is there a price on our heads?' Lune ran to his mother's side to say, 'Fear not, dear Mother. I will have every man in this room interrogated until we learn the truth.' That brought startled murmurs from many of the lowly looking men in the room, as well as some merchants and nobles.

Adem decided he would wait before mentioning that he had noticed that familiar dark aura around those men responsible for the attempt. 'Let us return to the palace,' Lune said. 'Jothar, I will leave the investigation up to you and your men.' Kelderath grinned with a slight tilt of his head. Adem suspected the great captain enjoyed a good torturing, to seek the truth.

***

Jean stood before the Lord and Lady of Rutheldor, in the Chamber of Commerce. An unusual choice for working with Angel-Magic. The room was fifty paces by sixty, high vaulted ceilings supported by blue marble columns and a red tiled floor. Books lined the walls of the room on tall oak shelves, along with paintings and tapestries of farmers in the fields, or fishing ships, or the Rutheldor Market. Produce was the main source of revenue for Rutheldor's coffers, and it was said that their wealth was equal to that of Nordhel. Their fishing ships numbered over four hundred vessels, that sailed the North and West Seas, selling mainly to the coastal cities, towns and villages. The farmland surrounding Rutheldor was rich and fertile, giving good crops and providing grazing land for all manner of livestock, including deer, that were farmed by fifteen estates close to the city.

Lady Elviara wore emerald green silk today, with a large emerald hanging from a golden necklace. And yes, the woman did change her jewels to match her dresses. Lord Londrak wore a dark green velvet coat, dark trousers and boots, and a golden belt, with his sword in a crimson scabbard. 'Tell us again how you think we may find a cure?' Elviara asked. Jean replied by saying, 'Like I said before, we need to discover a way to reverse the spread of the infection. That is why I came to Rutheldor. You are known as the experts in such studies.'

'Yes, but this is something entirely new to us,' Elviara said. 'It may take years, or even decades to understand the full nature of this curse. Who can say what result it will have on the Ael Tarael during those years?'

Wil stood beside his wife, in Alit'aren black. Hayley wore a crimson silk gown. Jean wished the woman would refrain from wearing the colour of blood. It made her uneasy, and she was Hayley's friend. Imagine how uncomfortable it made the others feel to be reminded the woman was a vampire. Finally, Wil stepped forward and suggested, 'What if we cut off the head of Tairark Vampire-King?' That brought shocked murmurs from the dozens of Ael Tarael standing around the room. It earned him a look of respect amongst the few Alit'aren who were also present.

'But that would be impossible!' Londrak said. 'Even the Sons of Odin would be no match for one of the Hex-Warlords. It would be a massacre of whatever forces we could muster.'

'What if I went alone, to face him in his lair?' Wil asked. Jean sensed the man's thirst for vengeance.

'We could not allow you to face a horde of vampires without our protection,' Elviara stated. 'You are vital to the hope of Kismeria, Wil Martyr. What you suggest is dangerous beyond belief, but I think it may work. If the head vampire could be killed, the source of the vampire curse would then be a broken link in the Hero Chain, releasing all those infected by the curse. This would possibly cleanse the infection on terael.'

'Such a thing has never been attempted,' Londrak said. 'The High-Servants are feared even by the Alit'aren. To speak their names is considered bad luck. But I will join you on this quest, if you are willing to make the attempt. The vampire lairs are found in the South Lands. The location where the head vampire rests is known to us, as we often send scouts to watch their movements in the south. That particular lair is said to hold over five thousand Nightwalkers, along with their leader. He alone will be more than you could face without the aid of your Brothers.'

'My fight with Tairark is a battle I must face alone,' Wil insisted. 'You will provide a scout to lead me to the location of this lair.'

'I will not let you face such a fate without me at your side, husband!' Hayley interjected. However, Wil stood firm, saying, 'Very well, I will allow a host of Alit'aren and Aldebrands to join me. Men who are good with a sword and show no fear of death.' Then he turned to Hayley and said, 'You must remain here, my heart. To allow the Ael Tarael to study your infection. They may be your only hope of finding a cure.' His calm tone suggested this was an issue on which he could not be pushed further. Hayley relented, saying, 'Very well, my love. I will await your return.'

'Londrak,' said Wil, 'you will gather your men and meet me at the stables in one hour. I plan to leave this very night. Bring only one hundred Alit'aren and fifty Aldebrands, only your best swordsmen, not necessarily those strong in teron. A larger force will draw too much attention when we cross the southern borders. Advise your wielders that they may use teron to form shields, but they may not use any other form of Angel-Magic. Not even to save the life of another.'

'Won't you take an Ael Tarael, to perform Healing-Magic?' Elviara asked.

'This is a suicide mission,' Wil stated. 'I will not allow women to join us. Any man who is badly wounded will be left to die.' That earned him cautious looks from the other Alit'aren in the room. Then Jean spoke up, saying, 'I will allow one Alit'aren to be appointed for Healing-Magic. If he dies, another may be chosen. This I will allow only this once, as you go on a mission that I fear none may survive.' Jean knew Wil wasn't confident with Healing-Magic; his nature was attuned to Destruction-Magic. With his new Battle Angel, he would have the skill necessary, but he would need to save their precious ki'mera orbs for facing Tairark Vampire-King.

'Very well,' Wil agreed. 'You may source Alit'aren who are strong at Healing-Magic; at least a dozen of them amongst the hundred.' Londrak nodded and began to shout orders to his men. The Alit'aren gathered in the room began to march for the doors.

'Adem will skin me alive when he learns of this,' Jean said to Terese, who stood beside her in a green coat and blue stockings.

'We had no part in this,' Terese said. 'If the fool wishes to throw his life away, let him do it! However, if he does die, there will be serious consequences.'

***

Adem sat on a cushioned chair, in a tower overlooking the city streets of Korhad. Carl sat beside him; both were dressed in their usual dark coats and trousers, with brown leather boots. The night was cooler now, though what still chilled Adem to the bone was the memory of those men lunging for Lydia and Elmira. Long daggers in their fists.

'Something is very wrong here,' Adem remarked, stretching his legs to warm himself in front of the open fire, the golden flames dancing on thick redwood logs. 'Those men, I saw the same dark aura around them before they made their assassination attempt. Jinn-Magic is even infecting some immortals at a rate that could spell disaster if we can't find a way to stop it.'

'I agree,' Carl said, his red spear fully extended to over six feet, and leaning in the crook of his arm. 'That is why I invented the new decree. If we don't restrict their wielding, the results will be catastrophic before long. Still, we must find a way to study Jinn-Magic, to discover a method of curing those who are too far gone. If not, we lose thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of men, who would otherwise be a vital key to our hopes of victory over Jinn-Fendinn.'

'Perhaps those men were Shadowsouled,' Adem suggested. 'My fear is that Jinn-Magic infects them, until their minds are somewhat possessed by evil. Arig once told me that there are many evil spirits that inhabit this world, unseen and unheard, though they seek to possess the minds of mad or evil men. Do you think that could be why I see those dark auras around assassins before they strike?'

'Perhaps,' Carl mused. 'Possession is not a foreign word to me Adem, but I'm a scientist also. I must look at both sides of the coin before I make up my mind.'

'Are you suggesting we study these men with dark auras, to discover whether or not they are actually possessed?'

'It is not a bad suggestion, but I fear we have more pressing duties to fulfil. We are in search of the Heart of Odin, and you must unite the rebels with our armies before war breaks out between them. If there are evil spirits possessing men, why do they make attempts on the lives of the former Immortal Kings and Queens? Why not strike at us first?'

'What if these spirits are planning such an attempt on our lives?' Adem asked. 'What if they make the attempt with Jean while we are apart?'

'Terese watches Jean in her sleep,' Carl said. 'No harm will come to her. You must focus on your own path, Adem. If we do not find the Heart of Odin in time to win the loyalty of the rebel Alit'aren, I fear a great war shall tear this world to shreds.'

'There is one other thing I forgot to mention,' Adem said.

'Tell me,' Carl said.

'On the first night we journeyed towards Korhad, I had a very strange dream.'

Chapter 8

To Hunt a Vampire King

Wil stood beside his horse, adjusting the reins and saddle. Hayley stood at his side, wearing one of her looks of deep concern. He wore the same dark coat and trousers, with black armour, worked with serpentine golden dragons. The moon was bright in a clear starlit sky above, though storm clouds gathered in the west, marked by flashes of white lightning.

The hundred Alit'aren and fifty Aldebrands surrounded them, including Lord Londrak, either in Alit'aren black or the ghoda'sidhe with bright masks and gauntlets. About half were amongst the immortals who had journeyed with Jean's forces to Rutheldor, chosen by Londrak, after Wil's recommendations.

He could not afford to take any more men than this. He planned to make the journey as fast as possible; pushing their altherin horses to their maximum limits.

They may be in there for days fighting against the thousands of Nightwalkers that slept in the crypts below. Wil had some memories of immortal men's lives, where they went on similar missions and never made it out alive. It was a suicidal mission, though he did not intend to die. 'I will return to you, my darling,' he said, as he brushed her cheek with his thumb, a tear falling from her right eye. She would cry more while she waited for his return, he was certain of that. He would remain focused on his task, his rage for vengeance fuelled by the terrible curse that had infected his beloved wife.

If he succeeded, her life would not extend beyond that of most mortals, perhaps longer if she was still able to wield a small amount of Angel-Magic, but not much longer. This was a mission to set things right, and to win back her soul. He kissed his wife's lips, gave a forced grin, and then climbed into the saddle and began to ride away. He heard his wife call out to him, 'I will pray for you, every day, until you return to me!' He raised his fist to wave without stopping to face her. The thunder of hooves pounded the pavement, as the Alit'aren and Aldebrands began to follow.

Londrak soon sided up next to Wil, saying, 'You are very brave, Son of Odin, but perhaps a bit foolish also. You cannot expect to survive this mission. All you will do is cut down an army of Nightwalkers. Tairark will be alerted by the sounds of battle and flee, or he will destroy us all.'

'You speak of the Hex-Warlords with some familiarity,' Wil said.

'Do you dare make an accusation?' Londrak asked in outrage, his voice still lowered.

'Forgive me,' Wil replied, 'I meant no offense.'

'I know enough about the High-Servants to understand what we are up against,' Londrak said. 'The fires unleashed from their blades could level a mountain, Jinn-Magic upon their blades deadlier than Souljhin swords. Your Battle Angels may be mighty, but they will have a hard time beating even one of the Hex-Warlords. I hope you have a better plan than this, Son of Odin.'

'My plan is to face Tairark in hand to hand combat, after I destroy his army of Nightwalkers. If he flees, it will have been a waste of time, but I think he will take the chance to try to eliminate one of the Sons of Odin. That would unbalance the Prophecy.'

'So why do it?' Londrak hissed. 'It is madness!'

'I do it for my wife,' Wil said. 'I seek vengeance for the injustice that was inflicted upon her. I could blame Fendinn; make him the target, but that is a fight for my Brothers. I choose to seek out the source of this vampire curse. To cut off his head. Perhaps then, my wife won't have to drink blood to survive.'

'I understand then,' Londrak said. 'Though, you must listen to my advice when we are inside. I will guide you to the coffin where Tairark sleeps. It was drawn for me on a map by an immortal hunter, an Archer. He sought to locate the sleeping quarters of this deadly soul. You will not find this place without my assistance. In return I ask that you follow my commands.'

Wil considered it curious that Londrak now claimed to have a map, and even stranger that he waited till now to tell him about it. Was he lying? Was it possible that he knew the location of the lair and Tairark's coffin, because he was in fact a Shadowsouled?

He began to wonder, as they moved from the stable yards, and onto the city streets. He questioned his Battle Angels about the suspect nature of the information, but neither were responsive, both dwelling in endless circles of fire. A dark brooding of tainted spirits.

'Why did you wait till now to tell me about this?' he asked.

'You didn't ask,' Londrak said.

'What was the name of this Archer?'

'Terren Dorilack,' Londrak said, 'of the Varin Forest clans. He came to me with the information and the map, three years ago. We have had the lair watched since then to ensure that Tairark continues to reside there. He sleeps every day, for up to eight hours. Terren was able to open the coffin, to confirm it was Tairark inside. His weapons were incapable of killing the High-Servant, so he fled and reported back to me.'

'Why did he bring this information to you?' Wil asked with interest. He still didn't know what to make of the story, though he continued to feign belief.

'He was an old friend,' Londrak replied. 'He trusted me. He feared for his life, for if he told a Shadowsouled of this news, he would surely be hunted down by the Hex-Warlords.'

Wil asked no more, and continued to ride through the streets of Rutheldor, where lanterns glowed on the paved stone streets. Crowds of revellers still poured onto the streets from the inns and taverns, soldiers, servants, merchants, lords and ladies. Some of the soldiers gave salute as they passed by, Wil ignored them, as he began to brood, much like his Battle Angels.

Jinn-Magic was infecting his mind also. He was becoming paranoid. Was that why he found it so hard to trust Londrak and his story?

They left the city and began to set a good pace, headed due south. It would take over two weeks to reach the Southland Ranges. In the dark it was difficult to make out some of the terrain, though the land was mostly flat fields with some rolling hills, and the altherin horses moved with graceful speed.

His plan was simple; he would infiltrate the lair and use the map to find Tairark's sleeping quarters. The others would be left to fend for themselves, against the thousands of vampires that would awaken and defend their territory.

He could stay to help them fight, but the noise would only alert Tairark. The High-Servant would likely escape before Wil got his chance for revenge. Most of his men would die in this quest, though he considered their sacrifice worthy to free Hayley from her curse.

He would avenge his wife, he would cure Jinn-Magic on terael, and these men would be honoured for their bravery. It was the best plan he could think of. He began to wish he had Carl and Adem at his side, to help him work out a better one.

Wil and his small army arrived at a small town on the borders of Rutheldor the next day. They had made good timing the first night and moved at a trot the next morning to allow the horses to rest. Londrak remained at Wil's side the entire time, though Wil was still unsure whether to trust the man.

The town was built over a series of large hills, with a low stone wall surrounding the outer buildings, that would serve as a defence against invaders. Mostly tile or slate roofed houses of whitewashed blue stone. The town folk—who were working the fields where sheep and goats were grazing—looked up to see their arrival. An elderly shepherd leaned towards two of the young lads, who raced off towards the town.

'There is a fine inn within the heart of Three Hills,' Londrak said. 'They make the finest apple cider you ever tasted, and their lamb stew is also worth trying.'

'I want to be much further south by nightfall,' Wil said. It was already past midday, hardly time for indulging in alcoholic ciders.

'The horses could use a good rest before we set out again,' Londrak insisted, he seemed nervous to Wil. Perhaps he was just made nervous by the presence of one of the Sons of Odin. After Jean took away Tobin's and Orion's crowns, every ruler must have felt that they were treading on eggshells to avoid upsetting one of the Chosen.

Wil reached for his axe, the weapon glowed bright golden in the daylight, and suddenly his awareness of Carl and Adem was increased tenfold.

They were moving at incredible speeds! Hurtling through space faster than a rocket, much faster than altherin horses were capable of! He questioned his Battle Angels on what they knew of this, and for once Dis Pater responded with: They are here, Son of Odin.

Wil tuned to see a bright flare of blue light, and then the shimmering illusion became Llew Llaw Gyffes! Adem's Battle Angel was a figure of blue fire, hair of long blue flames, golden scaled armour and a sword of light. Adem and Carl stood at the feet of the Battle Angel, along with Arig Flame-Bow, Tobin, Lydia, Orion and Elmira.

'How can this be?' Wil whispered to himself. The shepherds began to flee in terror of the gigantic figure, the young boys looking on with curiosity before their elders ordered them to run. Wil released his hold on the axe, spurring his horse towards Adem. Carl and Adem began to pace towards him, neither looking a bit pleased. When they were a few paces off, he stepped down from the saddle and strode towards them, his arms out wide for an embrace. Adem's fist across his face made his eyes become water. Black spots danced in his vision. He then realised he was flat on his back, looking up at his friends' dark expressions.

'What was that for?' Wil asked.

'You were supposed to watch over Jean!' Adem shouted.

'I thought that was your obligation,' Wil said, as he tried to sit upright.

'I left you in charge!' Adem roared. 'You left her alone!'

'No!' Wil shouted. 'You abandoned her, Adem! You left her to go off in search of this source of power, leaving her to seek out a cure. Well I know of a way, and neither of you is going to stop me.'

'Let me guess,' Carl said, 'you plan to take on Tairark Vampire-King, slay him and remove the vampire curse completely?'

'That sums it up,' Wil said.

'The vampire curse is sourced from Fendinn,' Adem said. Then he shouted, 'Even if you were able to defeat Tairark, there is no guarantee it will change anything!'

'It's worth a try!' Wil shouted back. 'After what they did to my wife, I will be satisfied just to end Tairark's life!'

There was a long pause, both men looking down at him with a new curiosity in their eyes, before Carl said, 'I'm in agreement, Adem. If we can take out Tairark, the Hex-Warlords are reduced in strength. They will be our biggest concern if they make it to the Ragnarök Battle. One less to worry about would be a blessing.'

'What is your plan?' Adem asked Wil, still burning with fury.

'We have a map!' Wil exclaimed, finally managing to get to his feet as he dusted off his coat. 'The map leads us directly to his tomb. We go in, kill a few vampires, slay Tairark and head home again.'

'A clever plan,' Carl said, with sarcasm. 'Where did you get the map?' Londrak then stepped forward; producing the leather scroll. The tunnels of the lair were marked in green ink. Tairark's coffin was marked with a red cross. Carl and Adem studied the map for some time, and then questioned Londrak about the source of the information. Both men looked upon Londrak with some scepticism, suggesting perhaps that Wil wasn't just being paranoid.

Or perhaps we're all losing the plot!

'We can discuss the details over lunch,' Londrak suggested, appearing even more nervous under the gaze of the three Sons of Odin. 'I was telling Lord Wil that there is a fine inn here. We will feast and rest, and then find suitable horses for the seven of you.'

The presence of Tobin and Orion also seemed to unsettle the man. Though Wil considered it possible that Londrak didn't like being reminded that these former kings and queens had lost their crowns and titles. Tobin and Orion did not approach Londrak, though they glared at him with distrust.

'Let's see about this inn,' Adem agreed. 'Perhaps then we will find more substantial answers.'

***

Adem sat at a round polished oak table, close to the roaring fireplace, in The Green Apple. The inn was spacious, with enough tables and chairs to fit over forty of the Alit'aren and Aldebrands. The rest were outside, watering the horses and keeping a lookout. The townsfolk did not seem frightened by the presence of so many warriors, as these lands were a part of Rutheldor. They all knew Londrak's face. However, the patrons within the common room quickly evacuated, without finishing their drinks, when Adem and his entourage arrived.

Londrak's men provided gold coin for meals and drinks, for those that were present; and more for those waiting outside. Adem didn't care how much they paid the innkeeper, a stout woman with a round face and two chins. Malmeri Longport was from the northern coasts originally, a hard-looking woman with fat golden rings in her ears, and a black tribal tattoo on her cheeks, that was common amongst the peoples of Roldoc. 'The Sons of Odin are always welcome here,' the dark-haired woman said, in gravelly tones. 'We have the finest cider in all the lands this side of the Kingarin Forest. You like it?' The woman's tone was enough to intimidate Adem into admitting, 'It's very fine cider, thank you, Madam Longport.' The woman sniffed and waddled back to the bar, her harsh tone sending the serving girls into a panic.

Tobin and Orion sat across from him, with Carl and Wil to the right of the table and Londrak to the left. Londrak looked ever more nervous as he went over the details about the discovery of Tairark's lair, though his skin was not marked with a drop of sweat yet. That would suggest he was hiding something, though Adem still suspected the man must be hiding some secret about this mysterious map.

'You're saying one man,' Adem began, 'one Elf Archer, crept through the dungeons of Morgrahl Kordahn, avoiding any confrontation with the thousands of vampires that lay within? He then found the resting place of Tairark Vampire-King, and managed to escape without detection? As well as finding the time to draw up this miraculous map?'

'I know it sounds hard to believe,' Londrak replied, 'but this man was an expert hunter and tracker. He is known for his skill.'

'Where is this Terren Dorilack now?' Carl asked.

'The last I heard from him; he'd returned to Varin Forest,' Londrak said. 'His people were his best chance of protection, if it was ever learnt that he'd drawn the map. Dark Angels are ruthless in their torture techniques.'

Tobin and Orion still looked at Londrak with scepticism, though they said nothing. Adem took a sip of his cider before he said, 'Very well, we go with the plan. But mark my words Londrak, if we find ourselves walking into a trap, I will take away your title and have you thrown in the dungeons.' Londrak swallowed hard at that last comment, before he replied, 'I tried to argue against this course of action, when Lord Wil first proposed the mission. I consider it suicidal to march into Morgrahl Kordahn with such a small force of warriors. If you wish to postpone the mission, I for one will breathe a sigh of relief.'

'The opportunity is too great to give up without trying,' Adem said. 'But you are right; we need more men. If we return to Rutheldor now, we will lose valuable time. The best option is to recruit soldiers, Aldebrands and wielders along our journey south. We will be passing through Soroven Keep in a few days, if we set a slower pace. On the way there will be many mercenaries to recruit. We can then try Monjor, and also Rindola and possibly Tivar.'

'Calicos is the better option to Tivar,' Tobin suggested. 'Tivarens are busy watching the Green Border.'

'I will take your advice into consideration,' Adem replied. 'Let's start by seeing how many of these townsfolk can fit into a suit of armour. Londrak, send a dozen Aldebrands to recruit.'

Londrak signalled to a tall mortal Aldebrand, with a red wooden bow and green breastplate. Londrak gave the orders and the man pressed fist to heart, then later marched out with a trail of Aldebrands. Lunch was a spread of breads, cheeses, green olives, sliced green apples and assorted nuts. The cider was amazing, but also reportedly strong, so Adem only sipped the single pint. The voices were growing louder in the room when Adem said, 'It's time to go.' They couldn't find any altherin horses in any of the stables, so Adem and those he brought with him were given fine stallions and mares of the best mortal stock available. When Adem was in the saddle of the tall dark brown stallion named Ebrox—meaning Cold Wind in the Immortal Tongue—he gave the order and their slightly increased force set out at a trot.

Chapter 9

To Find a Cure

Calliestra sat in her study, reading over reports of the movements of the Sons of Odin, and the Daughter of Thor. Her long silken raven locks flowed down her back, some long strands falling around her pale oval face. Her large dark eyes staring at the brown parchment like a hungry fox.

Kelveroth Demonlord watched her with the focus of a dark wolf, looking over a scrawny rabbit, that might make a chewy meal for supper. Once he was known as Kelbon Lightveins, a great Warrior of the All-Father, who lived for over three thousand years before giving his service to the Jinn-Lord. The High-Jinn had then gifted him Jinn-Magic. It was a power that made him almost invincible.

Though the boy Highlander had learnt to wield the Spear of Odin, and this made Kelveroth nervous, as it did his Brothers also.

'What do you hope to achieve by this?' Kelveroth asked, his lowered voice rumbled like distant thunder.

'It will lead them right where we want them,' she replied in her crisp tone. 'Only three may enter, and when they do, we shall overpower them when I spring my trap.'

'Why do you require my assistance?' Kelveroth asked. He had never trusted Calliestra, though he felt more at ease around her, than he did amongst any other of her kind. She was one of the twelve Hex-Keepers; the Second Class of Fendinn's Generals. Their title referred to the Jinn-Magic the High-Jinn gave to those twelve; that made them almost as strong as the Hex-Warlords.

This was the reason for the distrust, the Hex-Keepers were greedy, seeking a higher place in the ranks whenever they saw an opportunity. It was different with his Brothers, they did not compete, and there was trust amongst them, though they preferred to work alone in fear of betrayal from one with equal strengths.

Kelveroth would not join with another Hex-Warlord, without direct orders from the High-Jinn. Though he saw merits in Calliestra's plan. If the three Sons of Odin could be separated from their protectors, perhaps even their Battle Angels could not save them.

'We cannot take demons inside?' he asked, while stroking the panther, that purred with its head in his lap. The creature was his pet for over two thousand years; its eyes were liquid shadows, as a result of the curse that flowed through its veins. To control the minds of animals was a gift Kelveroth had gained as a Dremelden youth, growing up in the Kingarin Forest. That ability had changed since he turned to the Shadow, giving him the ability to enhance the strength and ferocity of an animal with the aid of Jinn-Magic.

He'd brought Shendo to intimidate Calliestra, though the woman's focus upon those precious documents was too intense. To her credit, the woman had spies within both armies, at Rutheldor and Korhad. The document she took so much interest in, was a report that the Sons of Odin had all left in the middle of the night on some secret mission, first Wil Martyr at Rutheldor, then Carl Wilder and Adem Highlander at Korhad.

'What do you think they are up to?' Kelveroth asked.

'It matters not,' Calliestra replied with a vexed expression. 'When we lay the groundwork, they will come to us. The High-Jinn will shower us in glory for our triumph!'

Kelveroth resisted the urge to shake with laughter. The woman really was a complete fool. Jinn-Fendinn wanted the three Sons of Odin alive, not some quick ending to destroy all his plans. He wanted them to suffer. He wanted them to destroy this world. Though, the High-Jinn would still congratulate him if he was able to kill them all with one swift stroke.

***

Jean sat in her study, looking over old books, about finding a cure for all sorts of diseases and curses. The knowledge for Healing-Magic in Rutheldor was extensive, but there was little research into the vampire disease. Hayley sat across from her, her hands in her lap, with a meek expression on her face. Jean noticed the woman was still not so confident without her husband at her side. She may be fearful for his safety also, which would not have helped her mood.

Jean rubbed her hands over her blue silk skirt and red stockings; her coat was blue silk with blue leather boots. Terese stood nearby, leaning against the wall, with her arms crossed under her breasts. She wore an emerald-green silk coat; blue trousers and lime-green boots. The woman had begun to wear bulgy trousers more often than not since arriving at Rutheldor. She seemed more prudent about her appearance in front of so many mortals, particularly men.

'Still nothing?' Hayley asked. The poor girl must feel so guilty. Jean sifted through the pile of leather-bound books, as she replied, 'I'm not certain that we'll find what we're looking for. These manuscripts are ancient, covering all manner of disease and infection. Still, none of them contain the information we require.'

'Rutheldor was our best hope,' Terese said. 'If we can't find it here, it probably doesn't exist.'

'The vampire disease is only four thousand years old,' Jean replied, 'as old as Tairark Vampire-King's reign as one of the Hex-Warlords. Most of these books predate that time by three thousand years or more. We need to go through more recent studies, and begin our own, as we research the curse.'

'That could take centuries,' Terese said. 'Even then you may find no cure.'

'Then we're in serious trouble,' Jean said with a touch of irritation, though it was more to do with her uncertainty over how Adem and Carl had travelled so fast to meet up with Wil, earlier in the day.

Hayley hadn't sensed it as clearly as Jean, as Jean's connection to Carl and Adem was stronger than Hayley's. Hayley was closely linked to her husband through the kigare, and also to Jean. At least she knew they were there to look out for Wil, if they really planned to go ahead with their mission. What bothered her was how apparent it was that Adem had kept this secret from her. She would have to drill him for details the next time she saw him.

They then made their way to the Red Dining Hall for supper. It was a large room, reserved for women, where a banquet was always laid out for them. Jean sat with Hayley to her right, and Terese to her left, with Lady Elviara seated further along with an entourage of her ladies in waiting.

A new woman was also present, Lady Verielle, a slim, blue-eyed, blonde-haired woman, in a sparkling blue silk dress, embroidered with white foxes. Hayley wore yellow, slashed with white today, which pleased Jean after so many crimson dresses! Jean was introduced to Verielle by Elviara, who assured Jean that Verielle was a close friend of hers since childhood, and a great ally in her every endeavour. Jean had seen the woman in the hallways from time to time before this meeting, though this was first time Verielle had attended a meal. Her hair was thick golden locks, that framed her pale face with a pretty nose and a pointed chin. She looked young too, with brown freckles on her cheeks and large eyes; though she guessed the woman was much older than she looked, as she was also Ael Tarael.

Elviara and Verielle sat whispering to one another, giggling like schoolgirls! Still there was a subtle niceness to Verielle, a sweet sort of innocence that Jean would have seen in herself, before she passed through the Chameleon Arch.

'Tell us what you're finding so amusing?' Terese asked, she seemed distrustful of Elviara, and seemed to appoint that same mistrust to anyone close to her. The two women stared back with innocent expressions as Elviara said, 'A funny story about our childhoods, when we first came to Rutheldor as Seidrs.'

So, she is much older, then. If she was Seidr with Elviara, she could be over fifty!

'Enlighten me,' Terese said with a calculating grin.

'Well,' Verielle said, in her voice like morning dew, 'we used to play a game with the young boys, a kissing game! We would each line up four boys of a similar age, and then we would take turns kissing each of them, to find out who was the best! And then we'd take each one by the hand and place it on our—'

'Spare me the rest,' Terese interjected. 'You two must have been very close back then, sleeping in the same room together, just two girls alone sharing secrets ... in the shadows.' Her grin remained, and her tone was insinuating. The two women appeared mortified at the apparent accusation, as Verielle asked, 'Are you implying that our morality is not pure of heart?'

'I was just speaking plainly,' Terese offered. 'You two must have shared so much together.' Her tone did not imply further offense this time, and the two women returned to their quiet banter. Jean thought they were just two women with a head full of power, and little wits to know how to wield it. They were harmless, a fly on the wall compared to her troubles. Terese was suspicious of most people, other than Jean and Hayley. She reached for a slice of apple and put it out of her mind, as she took a bite and began to chew.

***

Adem and his forces travelled the main road, from Soroven Keep towards Tentor, moving at a slower pace to allow the mortal horses to keep up and remain healthy. The road was called the Kel'ahl Path, an ancient name which referred to the Kel'ahl; warriors of the region in Ages past. They were in fact one of the twelve immortal clans, before the wars that resulted in the forming of only four clans.

The Kel'ahl were similar to Wood Kin, and their descendants were now a part of the Dremelden. Their history and their abilities suggested they were similar to the myths of Brown Elves from Earth's legends, expert hunters and trackers, akin to the woodlands and forests, their powers originated from the Great Angels of growth and regeneration.

This region was once dense forests, the Kel'ahl hunting grounds, now it was miles of green fields and wheat and corn crops, with herds of cattle, goats and flocks of sheep. The Kel'ahl had long since left this land, moving to the Kingarin Forest, and further west to the Varin Forest, or even to the smaller woods of the West Lands.

These lands were now home to mortal farmers and their ruling lords and ladies, the trees cut down and the rivers irrigated.

On the first day they passed through the Harghor Mountains, the Kel'ahl Path ran between two of the biggest peaks, with a narrow pass most of the way, where they rode four abreast. Scouts were sent ahead to look for any signs of ambush, these mountains were home to outlaws and bandits, looking for an opportunity to take gold from unsuspecting travellers.

So, they set a good pace most of the way through the pass, known as the Knife Edge, though they were wary of any traps that may fall upon the road to block their path. They were clear of the pass by early evening, and they made camp at the foot of the dark mountain known as Eclariest Peak, the second largest of the Harghor Mountains. They found wood for fires and set up a perimeter of soldiers and Aldebrands, with the Alit'aren surrounding Adem and his friends.

Carl and Wil sat whispering to one another in front of a large fire, where a small cauldron of rabbit stew was brewing. The scents wafted to Adem, and his stomach began to rumble. Flat bread and water were all they had to enjoy the meal with, and Adem sat with Tobin and Orion while he ate, Arig eating with the Alit'aren and Lydia and Elmira dining close to the fire beside Carl and Wil.

Arig's red bow sat beside him, he was one of the very few men in all the lands who were still allowed to wield arrows of flame. Adem wondered why Jean hadn't insisted that he also give up wielding, though he was advised to only wield Air-Magic once a week unless in extreme circumstances. Perhaps she allowed it because Arig was a former Hero of Will, and she saw some necessity that he maintains some of his abilities from his former life.

The problem with that idea was that Arig would also eventually become sick with madness, and they could lose one of their most valuable advisors. The signs of the Sickness weren't strong in Arig, though his dark eyes were beginning to burn with suggestion of a temper. The former ghost wore dark leather trousers, green boots and a thick olive-green coat, with a high collar and gold buttons. He also carried an Aldebrand cloak, though none of them were wearing those in this heat. There was lingering warmth in the air this evening, even hours after the sun had set.

After eating Adem trained with the sword against Tobin and Orion, sometimes taking them both on at once, though he knew they were going easy on him. Both were amongst the greatest Agnars of this Age, taught in the forms since childhood, they probably had over a thousand years-experience between them. He was still not certain just how old the two men were.

'Lancing Leopard moving into White Peaks,' Tobin instructed, 'flowing into Grey Guard then finish with Steel Claw.' They were advanced forms, something they'd only taught him recently. He pushed at Tobin's defences with each flow of the forms, the Aldebrand Alit'aren easily defending his strikes with swift and graceful parries. 'Good,' Tobin continued, 'now, Cobra Fang, moving into Black Owl Swoops, flowing into Grey Guard and finishing with Crescent Moon.' By this time, they had practiced for nearly an hour, and the gruelling training brought ripples of sweat across Adem's chest and back.

If he was holding onto Angel-Magic, he would not sweat so much, though that would drain his strength. He tried to ignore his distant perception of Jean's emotions through the kigare; she was frustrated and irritable, though not in any pain or apparent distress.

The thought that she was safe kept him stable, though he longed to return to her when this mission was done. These thoughts passed through his mind as he moved from Chain Breaker flowing into River Warden, moving into Snow Dancer and finishing with Cross Blade. All were defensive moves that included many cutting strokes, to hack down those around you who were unaware of your position.

Tobin moved with the same casual grace as he assaulted Adem's defences with Heavy Panther, followed by Stallion Hooves, moving into Hawk Moth Flutters and finishing with Moon on the River.

Exhausted at the end of training, Adem returned to the campfire to sit beside Carl and Wil, the two were still engrossed in conversation when a shout was heard on the outskirts of camp. It wasn't an alarm cry, just a signal that someone was approaching.

The camp became alert and waited; finally, two Immortal Aldebrands stepped into the light, with four men following who were obviously bandits. Obvious because of the black cloth masks that hung from their waist belts, along with spiked clubs or maces, heavy axes across their shoulders and one with a thick broadsword.

They were tall muscular men, built like bears standing on two feet. All had shaggy red beards tinged with grey, and their eyes were blue ice. The widest of the four stepped forwards, he wore silvered armour; dark green coat, black trousers and boots. 'My name is Hamdril Longtooth. I am chief of the clans that roam these mountains.' Adem was about to point out that they weren't a clan, but in fact a pack of thieves, though he let the man continue. 'We watched you journey through the mountain pass, and we became curious. Our scouts described the faces of the three young men I see before me, the three Sons of Odin, there be no mistaking that. It is to you, Sons of Odin, that I make my address. We see honour in following you and your men, even if you be marching into the pits of the Underworld we shall follow, if you will lead us.

'Our clans have longed for an opportunity to redeem ourselves in the eyes of the Free Landers. Once, in ancient times, we served as a personal guard to King Alsev Maroki, who was ruler of the lands from Rutheldor to Soroven Keep.' Arawn confirmed to Adem through the kigare that the man spoke the truth.

'What would you ask in return?' Adem asked.

'We ask only for the opportunity to serve you, Son of Odin,' Hamdril replied with fist to heart, 'and a return to a place of honour amongst you and your armies.' Adem groaned as Carl asked, 'What honour is there in thievery?' This needed to be handled delicately, and making accusations was exactly what he wanted to avoid. He gave Carl a warning glare as Hamdril replied, 'Game is scarce in these mountains, trade is almost non-existent, so it is true we lighten the load of travellers with deep pockets, though we only ever take half their riches at most. We despise living this way; we only wish to find a strong leader who will return us to our rightful place, as an Honour Guard to protect him and those close to him.'

'Well spoken, Hamdril Longtooth,' Adem said. 'I wonder, just how many men you have who are willing to serve?'

'I can bring five hundred warriors out of the mountains this night,' Hamdril replied. If most were built like this man, he would have an army of fierce mercenaries similar to the clans of ancient Scotland.

'How many do you have in total?' Adem asked, which brought a new stance of pride in the four men, as Hamdril replied, 'If we are returned to a place of honour, the four clans would number over five thousand fully grown warrior men, plus women and children. Eleven thousand in total.' Adem could barely hide his surprise; those mountains must have a network of caves suitable for housing so many people.

There was no honour in living in such conditions, forced to rob travellers to buy food from nearby farms and villages. He pitied this man, Hamdril and his people, but he also needed them. He needed those five hundred warriors most especially.

'We have an important task to fulfil,' Adem said. 'Your five hundred may join us to prove their worth at protecting the Sons of Odin, along with my closest companions, Arig Flame-Bow, Tobin Fire-Heart, Lydia Ever-Light, Orion Demon-Slayer and Elmira Golden-Braid.'

That brought a whistle between Hamdril's teeth as his eyes passed over Adem's companions once more, before he replied with fist to heart, 'It would be a great honour to serve, Son of Odin. Let it be known that my people take our duty very seriously. We shall not fail you. Even if we fall to the last man, you shall be protected.'

'Well said,' Adem replied. He gestured to the two Aldebrands as he said, 'Go with these men and gather the five hundred. We leave at dawn. I want every man in a saddle and ready to ride by sunup.'

'That be the slight catch, you might say, Son of Odin,' Hamdril said with a touch of nervousness. 'We only have about one hundred mules, used to transport food from the nearby villages to our mountain homes. I regret to inform you my men must march until you are able to provide us with mounts.'

That will slow things down a great deal, Adem thought, though he needed those warriors, so he would have to sacrifice time for strength of arms. 'Bring your men, and we shall see what can be done.'

Chapter 10

Watcher in the Dark

Adem tried to get some rest, while they waited for Hamdril's warriors. He lay on his sleeping blanket and closed his eyes. Soon the images of Ael Tarael and Alit'aren filled his mind, colours swirling as the two opposing sides battled. Those images were common while sleep took him these days, a sign of the deeper concerns he felt for the future of this land.

A cool breeze blew across his skin ... and suddenly he was standing on a large boat ... in that strange part of the East Lands with dark towers rising from fortifications on the distant shore ... the water was pitch black. The surface broken by huge fish with lizard faces, black scales with the bones of men tied to their backs with heavy chains ... the boat was larger than the first time he'd been to this place. A shimmering golden craft with emerald and aqua shields glowing on the sides. A Viking ship, possibly a craft used by the invaders, who had crossed the West Sea, to attack the West Lands, for tens of thousands of years ... the sky above was black clouds lined with silver edges. Forked lightning pierced the sky; the rolling toll of thunder echoing in his ears. A black cat appeared on the deck of the ship, large black eyes like liquid shadows. It must have been a panther by its size, though there was a power emanating from it that spoke of witchcraft. An evil force similar to that of the Hex-Warlords.

A figure appeared, clouds billowing and flowing upwards to take the form of a dark cloaked man in a deep hood, though the familiar eyes of flame burnt within the cowl. He couldn't make out a mask to guess which of the High-Servants this was, though he was certain it wasn't Tairark Vampire-King this time.

Adem reached for his blade, and this time his grasp closed around the golden hilt. He drew the sword and it emanated pale blue. The High-Servant reached for his own sword hilt, drawing the blade that glowed crimson. 'I have been expecting you,' the voice of the man was like soft thunder. 'We have much to discuss.'

Adem reached for Odin-Magic, lightning and ice flooding his veins, Jinn-Magic a rancid taste that made him shift his balance as nausea set in. The High-Servant began to chuckle, a deep booming echo in the air. 'You have no need to protect yourself in my presence,' said the man. 'We are Brothers, you and me. We share a bond of ancient powers.'

'Jinn-Magic is not mine!' Adem shouted. 'It will not make me turn to your side!' The rumbling laughter from the High-Servant was like a lion's mirth.

'You will join with us when the Prophecies are fulfilled. It is your destiny, Adem Highlander. Already Jinn-Magic turns you like a worm turns in an open grave. It becomes a part of your mind, your heart and soul.'

'I will fight it!' Adem shouted, straining to keep his calm. 'You will never win!'

'The Shadow will annihilate this world, and in turn your own world will fall. That is of no concern to me, what will be is carved in stone. My question is where you and your Brothers are heading? South, I know that much already, but where is your destination? What are you planning?'

Adem considered that this creature was capable of reading minds, so he did his best to empty his thoughts of their plans for hunting Tairark. The Hex-Warlord began to chuckle again, saying, 'I have seen your mind, Highlander, you travel south to try to ambush Tairark in his lair. You would expect me to inform him of this, though I wish you luck in your endeavours. One less High-Servant is a higher probability of becoming the High-Seat of the High-Jinn.' Adem realised he had to trust the words of this monster, they had gone too far to turn back from their mission, though if he was lying, Tairark would be ready for him.

'Why should I believe you?' Adem asked.

'I have stated my reasons,' the man replied. 'I would be more concerned with how you will achieve your aims. Strength of arms will be feeble against any of my kin. Even your Battle Angels will be hard pressed to make a dent in Tairark's armour. You need a good plan of attack. The element of surprise is vital to your success.' The figure coalesced to become swirls of dark clouds once more, floating across the deck and over the side. The panther licked its paws and turned to stalk away, fading in a transparent mist. Swirls of fog flowed in around from all sides, covering the boat, filling his vision ... he sat up awake, heaving for breath. Carl and Wil lay sleeping beside him; both appeared peaceful, which suggested no similar nightmares. Carl insisted he'd never been visited by any Hex-Warlords since entering Kismeria and learning the spell of Nightshade. Wil also stated that he'd had no such nightmares since their Arrival. It was strange, how did the High-Servants know how to find him? Was he really visiting that place by his own choice? More questions, he thought to himself. More riddles to solve.

Adem waited by the fire the rest of the night, until Hamdril's warriors began to approach in small clusters. Each man was armed to the teeth, with long handled hammers or double-edged axes sticking up above their shoulders, swords at their waists, daggers, throwing knives, maces and whatever else they could carry it seemed.

The bulk of the force were built similar to Hamdril. Large men with wide shoulders, deep chests and long thick beards of red or dark brown, though some were dark haired with jet black eyes. Many also had tattoos on their arms, similar to the styles of Roldoc, tribal markings in black or green or blue, sometimes even with hints of red or yellow; some even had the markings on one side of their faces from brow to chin. They looked like veteran soldiers, every one of them, though Adem wondered how long it'd been since any of them had faced a real battle.

Most arrived before the morning light, though Adem was patient as he noticed more moving along the fields than the promised five hundred. Word must have spread that the Sons of Odin were allowing Hamdril's people to return to a place of honour.

By the time Adem had finished his breakfast, he estimated there were close to a thousand of Hamdril's men on the field. He was tempted to wait for more, every blade was needed to fight this battle, but it seemed wiser to save the rest for a much larger fight. By mid-morning they began to ride out, with Hamdril's men forming an Honour Guard, striking up a song as they marched.

They sang in proud deep voices, the Immortal Tongue like some ancient chant, and perhaps it was, and the words in the common tongue were filled with regret and sadness. Adem questioned his Battle Angels on the meaning of the chant, which Arawn interpreted as, High Blood soars! Low Blood flows! Fight for Honour and be bold! Women cry! Men die! Sing for the Kings of Old! Adem was moved once he learnt the true meaning of the words, much more than he was when he first heard it. They continued the song for the first hour of the march, until the sky became grey as a strong southerly wind blew storm clouds overhead. An hour later a light rain began to fall, then a loud boom of thunder echoed overhead, and the shower became a downpour. There was no more singing after that, just a slow trudging through muddy fields, the horses stepping warily over small rocks and down sloping hillsides.

In this region the land was hilly, with many ditches, valleys and ravines, all with rivers or streams flowing through them. All were shallow however, which made for an easy crossing for those on horseback, though Hamdril's men were half soaked from wading in the waters throughout the day.

They headed southwest with the Duke's Road flanking them on the right, the road led to Tentor where they would attempt to recruit more men, and then follow the Duchess's Path which joined Tentor to Mendora.

Adem pulled his dark cloak around his form to block the chill on the air, rain still pelted down five hours after it had begun. It would be difficult to make camp out in the open, though forests held the danger of demons lurking in the shadows. He still hadn't seen a full map of where all of the Travelling Gates were in this region. He knew there was one close to the road, beyond the small forest that lay east of the road, known as Varkhel Woods. That worried him as they passed the outskirts of the forest and daylight faded.

It was still a grey sky when they made camp on the opposite side of the road, on a hilltop with the Duke's Road twisting southeast, then south through the valley below. A wide river also flanked the road at the base of the valley. Scouts were sent into the forest to seek out possible signs of recent demon activity, mostly Aldebrands with a few Alit'aren to form shields if necessary. They returned at night, with little moonlight passing through the thick storm clouds that still blew overhead.

The scouts had nothing of importance to report, no tracks or sensing of a demonic presence. That put his mind at ease to a degree, though he wished to reach Tentor as soon as possible. They'd passed through a small village during the day, where they bought a dozen good horses for Hamdril and his other chiefs. The rest would have to walk until they reached a larger village with more horses to spare.

Fires were lit, burning amber in the darkness. Mist oozed from the ground, making shapes like pale phantoms floating on the winds.

Carl and Wil sat close to Adem by the fire. Tobin and Orion practiced with their swords against some of Hamdril's warriors, something Adem had suggested, to learn just how good these warriors were. Adem sat and watched the sparring for a good hour after supper—spit roasted rabbit and flat bread—and he saw that even some of the youngest or most scrawny of the clansmen were adept at battle and weaponry. Even Orion and Tobin seemed cautious when fighting some of the larger men, wielding those heavy axes or hammers.

Other Alit'aren also practiced against the clansmen, until the fields surrounding the fires were a scene of shadows wielding steel, glinting golden or silver as they clashed with wood or iron, clanging noises filled the air as if a real battle was taking place.

Adem sat on his sleeping blanket, with Carl at his side. Wil was snoring softly near midnight. Tobin and Orion returned to the fire as Arig also appeared from the shadows. The three men spoke in hushed tones in front of the fire, before they moved to sit before Adem and Carl on three dark green blankets. Lydia and Elmira moved to sit beside their husbands, Lydia in fine blue silk, under a white woollen cloak. Elmira in a navy silk cloak and a white embroidered gown.

Both had their hoods pulled down over their faces, the cowl covering their eyes and throwing shadows over their noses and lips. They sat in silence as the men spoke, each listening like a faithful feline waiting by their master's side, though Adem knew both women had recently taught their husbands how to heel like a hound. Next, they would be teaching them how to fetch and beg!

'We need more men for this mission!' Tobin growled. 'Five thousand, at least! An even larger host will need to defend the horses, picking off any vampires that try to escape.'

'I hear your words,' Adem said, 'and I consider their value.' He had learnt to speak to the two former kings in such ways since they lost their crowns. They were no longer rulers to give commands, they were his advisors. Even that honourable title was his gift to them.

In truth, he valued every scrap of advice they gave, though he couldn't allow too many outsiders to witness such appreciation and acceptance of their knowledge. If word of it got back to Jean, he might find he also lost his titles! And more importantly, my privileges, he thought with concern. The last time he saw Jean alone she had shied away from his advances. His worst fear was facing a permanent ban on intimacy.

'Strength in numbers is an advantage against foes such as Tairark,' Arig said. 'Though strength in Angel-Magic is what we'll truly need to have any hope of success. Tairark is strong, perhaps not stronger than all of your Battle Angels combined, though Tairark can fight for hours. Therefore, it seems wise to spare your Battle Angels from any fighting until we face Tairark.'

'How will we fight our way through five thousand vampires and avoid waking Tairark?' was Carl's question, and a good one. It had occurred to Adem long before. Thousands of armoured soldiers on horseback would sound like an avalanche to the High-Servant.

'So how do we do it?' Adem mused.

'What about Llew Llaw Gyffes's teleport ability?' That came from Wil, who was now awake. He had still been snoring quietly only moments before. He was lying flat now; his chest rising and falling.

'What about it?' Arig asked.

'Too many men for that to work,' Adem said. 'Llew would need to vanquish a hundred thousand Jacoulra before he could move a force that size. Even then, he could probably only move them a short distance, and he'd be completely sapped of strength!'

'But a short distance is all we really need,' Arig mused, rubbing his bearded chin. 'A short jump from a mile or two away, to teleport our forces inside the tombs. The bulk of the force to fight the vampire hordes, and the Sons of Odin and all here present to enter Tairark's lair to spring our trap.'

'It can't be done!' Adem shouted, losing his temper again, another sign that he had forgotten to accept his daily Healing-Magic. Lydia had seen to that since the day they teleported from Korhad. Elmira had seen to Carl and Wil. They were the only Ael Tarael available, which meant most Alit'aren and Aldebrands were also going without their Healing-Magic, as the women needed to conserve their own strength. Adem saw Lydia raise a hand, extending it to him to perform the Healing-Spell. Then she hesitated and withdrew her attempt, her eyes visible for a moment, appearing to be shining with concern.

Just then Adem heard Arawn speaking to him through the kigare, his deep voice a soft rumbling in his mind as the Battle Angel said, A Link would increase Llew's ability. A short jump is all we need.

'But that would drain every Battle Angel of their ki'mera.' Adem said, to himself, though out loud.

'Of course, it will work!' Carl cried. 'Why didn't I think of that? The Battle Angels will form a Link to support Llew's teleport ability, giving us our short jump to exactly where we need to go. Tairark will be caught completely unawares.'

'But our Battle Angels won't be able to fight after that!' Adem shouted.

'It seems to be the only possible way, Adem Highlander,' Orion said. 'Any other method of approach will surely alert every vampire within. This will be on their turf, their rules; we must have this advantage over them if we hope to succeed.'

'But what hope do we have of defeating Tairark without our Battle Angels?' Wil asked, sitting upright and rubbing his eyelids with his fists.

'Little or none,' Adem replied, striving for calm. His brow would show signs of tension.

'So, what is the point of it?' Wil asked in disappointment. There was a long pause before Carl said, 'We'll take out his vampire army, and show Tairark we aren't afraid of him. It will be a lesson to all the High-Servants, perhaps making them more cautious. Even the Hex-Warlords can feel fear. We will not stand for evil. We'll seek it out and drive a stake through its heart!' Bold words, Adem thought, and not at all the usual peaceful perspective he expected from Carl.

'It still might not work,' Adem said, finally calm again.

'Why won't it work?' Carl asked. Adem sighed deeply before he replied, 'Because, last night, I had another one of those nightmares.' As he began to tell his friends about the dream where he spoke to one of the High-Servants, he saw their faces change from interest, to concern. Then when he explained that this High-Servant had learnt of their destination, he saw their faces marked with open outrage.

'He tricked you, Adem Highlander,' Orion whispered. 'Hex-Warlords cannot read minds; we must have a Shadowsouled amongst us who informed him of our mission.'

'No prizes for figuring out who my first guess would be,' Wil said, and then one by one, all turned to regard Londrak. He sat with his back turned to them, as he spoke to two of the mortal Aldebrands who were supposed to be keeping an eye on him.

'It's not enough to accuse him of it openly,' Tobin said.

'I hear your words and I consider their value,' Adem replied, through clenched teeth. He felt like a complete fool. Why hadn't he questioned his Battle Angels about this mind reading trick. A Shadowsouled amongst them! Bloody perfect! He realised his hand was clutching his sword hilt. Of course, there was still no proof he was the one. They would have to be especially cautious from now on. Every move they made could be broadcast to the High-Servants, until they put a ferret down the hole to flush out the mole.

***

Jean's white mare danced nervously, amongst the masses of larger warhorses that flanked her. Aldebrands and Alit'aren rode those horses mostly, with sleek mares of lighter colours for the Ael Tarael, in their bright silk dresses, and woollen or silk cloaks. Terese and Hayley also rode white horses, moving up to flank her on either side, both with tightly braided ponytails, their dark eyes burning with anticipation. Hayley wore yellow silk under a crimson cloak, and Terese wore shimmering blue armour over a navy coat, thick white stockings and knee-high navy-blue boots.

They were gathered in the Royal Stable Yards of Rutheldor, preparing to head for Korhad, to await the Sons of Odin, and from there to invade the northern Border Kingdoms, where they would confront the rebel Alit'aren.

It was mid-morning, a brightly sunlit day with scattered white fluffy clouds. The sky was a brilliant pale blue, with falcons and eagles gliding on the warm air currents. Even within the walls of the city there was a warm breeze, though any kind of breeze was refreshing under a sun that flared with such heat.

Jean wore a white silk coat and short skirt, embroidered with black foxes, pale blue stockings and navy-blue leather boots. Her cloak was sky blue wool, embroidered with white foxes. She'd chosen the outfit herself, making sure to don a silver breastplate to avoid a confrontation with Terese.

She'd waited at Rutheldor long enough, delayed was a better word for it, seeking answers to the vampire curse, hoping to discover a cure. It was time to move on. Elviara and Verielle sat their white mounts also, the crowds of larger horses parting to allow them passage to join with Jean and her entourage. The golden-haired women were pouting with discontent expressions, perhaps because Jean had ordered that they join her on this journey, or perhaps they had other secrets. 'You keep a close eye on those two,' Jean whispered to Terese, 'won't you?'

'Like a hawk,' Terese replied with teeth bared, feigning a smile. Elviara moved up alongside Jean, forcing Terese's horse to give way, and Verielle did the same on the other side between Jean and Hayley. Immediately their spirits seemed to lift, as if they were contented to be at the side of the Daughter of Thor, amiable servants with high hopes of impressing their commander. An obvious ruse, of course, and Jean saw straight through it. They wanted to get on her good side, did they? Well, she'd allow them to believe that they were.

'It would seem prudent to allow two powerful Ael Tarael to guard you on this journey,' Elviara said with calculating smoothness, wearing blue silk today under a white woollen cloak, 'rather than a fallen Hero, and a woman who gains her strength from an evil curse.' Hayley bared her fangs at the remark. Terese was outraged, her white knuckled grip on her reins was clearly to avoid throttling Elviara! The two Ael Tarael cared not to notice however, and Jean did her best to focus on the path before her. She began to ride through the grey stone courtyard with the four women following at her sides.

'Perhaps you're right, Elviara,' Jean said. 'I have need of protection, and women experienced at battling evil are welcome in my closest circles.' That comment seemed to make the two women sit up even straighter, with sounds of ten thousand horse hooves clipping the pavement.

That was just the Royal Stables, the full force would number over thirty thousand mounted warriors, including Alit'aren and Aldebrands, though only a small portion of that number were wielders, with an added two hundred Rutheldoran Ael Tarael, to protect the Daughter of Thor.

Jean still hadn't made any announcements to restrict or ban female wielders from touching terael, though her ban on any attempts to use the new curse to an advantage was made clear, in declarations posted throughout Rutheldor, and sent to the four corners of the Free Lands.

Two hundred immortal Ael Tarael and fifty Alit'aren also joined them on this journey. It was a migration from one ruling nation to another, bringing with them a force of arms to protect the Borderlands, but also to protect themselves from the rulers of those lands.

'Still no word from Lord Adem or Lord Carl?' Verielle asked—garbed in red slashed with yellow and a golden cloak embroidered with grey foxes—to which Jean replied, 'No word as yet, though I trust they will return when the time is necessary.' Jean caught a look of surprise in the little woman's crystal blue eyes. Let her stew on those thoughts as she tried to puzzle out their meaning. But, after a long pause, Verielle said, 'I trust your word on such matters, Daughter of Thor.' The woman wore an expression of pure loyalty, though Jean could see she was anxious, out the corner of her eye, while the woman waited on a response.

Jean flicked a glance to her right side to see a similar expression flare across Elviara's face. So, they were delving for treasure, were they? She'd put a gold coin in each of their Christmas puddings before the day was through. What is Christmas? Tanriel asked through the kigare. To which Jean replied; It's a holiday, like Bellatanus, to celebrate with friends and family, give gifts and enjoy a feast. Her Battle Angel seemed to be contemplating this while brooding in the darkness of the curse, though she made no further comment.

After a time Anwen asked, So, you mean to give them a treat? To which Jean replied, A treat of sorts, I'll alert them to something they'll relish to hear, though it'll be something I wanted them to know. Jean then sensed Hayley's amusement through the kigare, suggesting her Battle Angel, Druantia, had shared the subtle plot with her. Jean smiled, a knowing grin, and then began to plan just exactly what sized herring she would feed to these two fisher birds.

Chapter 11

Crossing the Ravine

It took close to two months to reach the southern border, where Adem and his forces arrived at the city of Calicos. The city lay northwest of the mountain ranges that divided the Southlands from the Free Lands, close to the South Sea coastline. The city was fortified brown stone, standing sixty-feet high on the outer wall, with the Palace rising even higher, situated on a high hill at the western walls of the city, and climbing into the rock face of the Troghor Mountains; white capped blue-grey stone, with clusters of pine and oak forests on the western side.

Adem stood in one of the high towers of the Palace. He looked down onto the coastline, and the many ships docked there, including crafts of the Ruhalden, the Sea Immortals. As well as trader's ships, even some vessels that belonged to pirates willing to pay the fees to dock at a busy trade port. Brown and grey stone buildings moved in a jagged maze towards the docklands, where piers and docks stretched along the coast, with three larger stone piers moving out into the deep waters. They were called The Three Fingers, built over three decades ago, when King Erroll decided to increase the wealth of his kingdom, by inviting the larger trade ships to visit his port. King Erroll was immortal, as was his wife Queen Senfia.

Adem stood alone in the high tower, looking out over the ocean. He heard the familiar light footsteps approaching, and resisted the urge to groan, though at the same time his heart felt more at ease to know who was approaching.

'Brooding up here in your tower, Lord Adem?' The voice was harmonious like most female immortals, though more youthful, and yet, just as dignified as Lydia or Elmira would sound. Adem nervously ran a hand through his hair, that wasn't tied in its usual tail today, hanging loose around his shoulders.

It was early morning still, the sky pale blue with white clouds on the horizon, a warm breeze sweeping through the open window. He wore a navy woollen coat with golden buttons, dark trousers and knee-high pale blue leather boots. They were a gift from King Erroll, and the King had gifted him many outfits since his arrival. Adem wondered if the motivation for those gifts, was the young woman standing behind him.

The daughter of the King and Queen was young, not much older than she looked in fact. He turned to regard her, a woman who stood about the height of his chest, chestnut brown eyes that radiated youth and immortality. Raven black hair tied in a thick braid, today she wore shimmering emerald silk, embroidered with black birds with little orange beaks. In a word, she was, breathtaking.

He immediately began to play with his hair, tying it back with the leather cord around his wrist. 'I was just taking my morning air, Princess Isabelle.' She had a face that was kind of round though kind of long, with high cheekbones and bright apple-red cheeks when she was blushing, which included this very minute! Long eyelashes and high thin pointed black eyebrows, she was the image of her mother, a child in a woman's body in some ways, her gaze sometimes wise beyond expectation, and at other times innocent and sweet. Today however, it was the look of a feline predator, preparing to pounce.

From the moment Adem first set eyes on this woman, he had felt emotions stirring, feelings he had not felt for any other woman since he had first met Jean. He felt guilty for it, he told himself to quash all feelings that could make him forget how important Jean was to him. He also feared Jean may sense those emotions in him. But he wasn't in love with Isabelle! He wasn't! He just, liked her a lot. In the past three weeks the woman had crawled her way under his skin. In some ways she penetrated his soul deeply. He was shocked to hear himself admit it, but it was the plain and simple truth.

Isabelle smiled, ruby lips that sparkled with some kind of lotion to keep them soft and moisturised, the knowing grin of a black cat. 'You have been accepting your morning Healing-Magic, yes?' She asked with a flash of concern in her dark eyes. 'Father says you and your Brothers must be cared for like lost lambs. So much depends on you three.'

Adem took a nervous step backwards, as Isabelle stepped forward to lay a hand on his chest. He suspected the woman's main motivation for such flirtation was her ambition to form a strong alliance with the Sons of Odin through marriage. As Carl and Wil were both already married, it made sense that the young woman would try to sink her claws into the only one left available.

As he retreated, his back touched the cool stone wall beside the open window. Her hand pressed up against his chest once more, she gazed into his eyes; her large liquid brown eyes filled this time with, obsessive desire! 'How long must we play this silly game of cat and mouse, Lord Adem?' she asked. 'Surrender to me, and my father will one day make you ruler of these lands. Surely you desire to rule every kingdom you can slip into your coat pocket, yes?'

'I may not be around long enough to rule, dear Princess,' Adem said.

'Isabelle, call me Isabelle.' She stroked his chin with her polished red nails, then clutched him by the ponytail and laid a hard kiss on his lips, forcing him back hard against the wall with her other hand shoved against his chest! For a time, he was lost in that kiss, her lips so soft and smooth, and his emotions changing from anxiety and distress, to contentment, even bliss. Then lust began to take over, and he found his hands moving to her curvaceous body parts. He sensed an emotion from Jean through the kigare; it was pure jealous outrage!

He pulled away, nearly splitting his skull as it hit against the stone wall behind him. Isabelle looked up in surprise; her eyes still alight with fanatical lust. 'You cannot treat me as some tavern wench to throw across your knee when you so desire,' she said with fire to her tone, 'then cast me out because you have stabs of guilt for the one you left behind!'

Why did women have to get so damn jealous all the time?

'Forgive me, Princess, it was a moment of weakness on my part. I regret to say; my heart belongs to another. Jean is my heart; my very soul, forgive me.' Isabelle pulled away, pain plainly written on her face, an expression of pure heartache.

'How dare you, Adem Highlander!' she snapped, and then slapped him across the face, before gliding off towards and through the door, sniffing to resist the beginning of tears.

When he was alone, all he could feel was his own guilt, mixed with Jean's still burning temper. How was he going to explain this to her? He returned to gazing out to sea, his thoughts heavily burdened. Almost instantly his symptoms began to rise; anxiousness, tension in his brow and jaw, he clenched his fists as rage began to take over. He wasn't sure how long he stood there brooding before he sensed Carl approaching, but his friend was then walking through the doorway as Adem turned to regard him with a tense frown.

'Princess Isabelle looks ... distressed,' Carl offered, hands behind his back in his dark coat and trousers. He and Wil had also been offered outfits during their stay, though both preferred to remain in Alit'aren black. Adem suspected his friends were amused at the way he was dressed up like some prize rooster to display at the market. Today's outfit was respectably modest compared to other times thus far.

'A slight complication on my part,' Adem admitted in careful tones.

'I see,' Carl replied. 'Well, we'll be on our way soon enough, and putting all of this behind us. Never a care for what we can easily forget, eh?' His tones suggested he also knew how much Adem had become accustomed to Isabelle's enchantment. He would not easily forget, but he did have to move on with his mission.

'What is the report?' Adem asked. He had assumed command of the mission some time ago, putting Carl in charge of gathering mercenaries to join their cause. For a time, Carl had split up from the main force, taking a heavy guard to the other cities along the journey while Adem and Wil continued south. Carl had arrived at Calicos nearly a week after Adem.

'We've gathered a large army in this region,' Carl began, 'almost as many as we arrived with and more are on their way from the outlying farms and villages. I've maintained caution in regard to the nature of our mission. I still fear the Shadowsouled amongst us has most likely already alerted Tairark.'

'We don't know that though, do we?' Adem asked. He turned to regard Carl; his friend stood with a quizzical raised eyebrow before responding with, 'Yes...that's true, we don't know. Our best hopes are in the plan to use Llew's teleport ability. The element of surprise will gain us some advantage.'

'What is the total of our forces so far?' Adem asked.

'Three thousand seven hundred and fifty-four,' Carl replied with a straight back.

'And you estimate it'll more than double with the recruits that march from the nearby kingdoms?'

'That's what I can estimate from my reports.'

'It's not enough,' Adem said. 'But it will have to do. Once we have such numbers, we march for the Southlands.' Carl gave a nod, the closest thing to a bow Adem ever expected to see from the man. His friend was good at receiving orders, even better at taking command of those warriors, though he gave little signs of respect to Adem when they were alone.

In public he would sometimes salute—with fist pressed to heart—when Adem commanded him, though Adem had never seen him even begin to bow. Adem respected that too, whatever had changed in them all since their viewings in the Chameleon Arch, his friends remained just that, his companions till death, but always his equals however much they deferred to his leadership. 'This hair is getting too long,' he said, running a hand over the thick ponytail that ran down past his shoulder blades.

'New recruits arrive every hour,' Carl replied, to change the subject, seemingly sensing that Adem's comment had more to do with his women trouble than the length of his hair. 'I expect we'll have the numbers we need by the end of the month.'

More time alone with Isabelle, Adem thought with guilt returning. Though the truth he could not deny was, he was glad for it. His sense of Jean was that her mood had settled somewhat, though she would not forget what she had discovered this day, and perhaps had known was coming ever since Adem first set eyes on Isabelle. 'I also know of a fine barber shop on the corner of Cutler's Lane in the Red Fin Quarter,' Carl began, then Adem caught a glimpse of a grin on his friend's face as he continued with, 'no pretty young women to distract a man from his duty, just a swift clean cut.'

Adem glared at him as he said, 'I haven't forgotten about my devotion to Jean, old friend. The Princess is just, well ... she's a friend, and sometimes friends get closer to each other than they originally intended, and ... Oh, I don't know what; women will be my undoing before Fendinn has his chance!'

Again, his friend stared with that raised brow, though this time it twitched nervously, as he apparently fought the desire to allow his smirk to turn into a fit of laughter. He held his reserve however, nodding, and departing after saying, 'I'll see you at lunch.'

After a time Adem returned to his brooding, he tried his breathing techniques to soothe his mind, but it did little, as was the case most often of late. His Battle Angels also descended into darkness and flames through the kigare, they spoke to him less and less these days, only responding to his questions when they thought it necessary, rather than appropriate. To his complete shock he heard Arawn offer; A man can love two women and still be a whole person, Son of Odin. But he may find it difficult to know which direction he is headed.

Adem sighed deeply, feeling a state of calm wash over him for the moment, as he replied; Wise words. I shall contemplate their meaning. He then sat with his palms in prayer position, ran through the Lord's Prayer to begin with, then moved into breathing techniques to try to reach a higher state of awareness. Arawn guided his thoughts, as always, providing him with visions of ancient battles, fallen heroes of myths and legends. He saw it all behind the darkness of his eyelids, a symphony of colour and light, swirling and coalescing from one vision to the next.

Another emotion he felt from those viewings was a deep sense of despair, for it seemed no matter how brave or how strong these warriors were, in time most were defeated. He wondered if the lesson he needed to learn was how to overcome that terrible sense of dread, the fear that nothing could stop Jinn-Fendinn, not even the Sons of Odin.

***

Jean sat in the Royal Dining Hall at Korhad. She had been here over a month, after a fairly slow journey from Rutheldor. They had recruited forces along the way, soldiers and farmer veterans who wished to follow the Daughter of Thor. She was deep in thought about the emotions she had sensed in Adem only moments before, brooding with anger over his betrayal.

She did not know the name of this Lady he had given himself to—she hoped it was a Lady and not some tavern bar maid—but she cursed the woman, whoever she was.

He was far to the southwest now and had been for the last three weeks. Tanriel assured her she could provide the name and identity of the woman, though Jean refused to hear any details. Tanriel did confirm that Adem was in the city of Calicos. That was her first guess when looking over maps the day before, but for the most part she had avoided asking her Battle Angels to confirm his location.

'Will you have milk with your tea, Lady Jean?' Prince Lune asked. He was a very well-mannered young man, though not young at all compared to Jean. Immortals were a strange puzzle to decipher, their wisdom so apparent in their eyes despite the youthfulness of their complexion.

He wore a deep green silk robe, over a dark green coat: grey leather trousers. His boots were lime-green and folded down at the knee. Jean wore crimson silk today, a short skirt and high collared coat with gold buttons, golden silk stockings and ruby leather boots.

'Milk but no sugar,' she replied. 'Thank you, Prince Lune.' She had tried to convince Lune to stop addressing her with formality, though if he insisted, she would do the same. He poured her favoured amount of milk from a small porcelain jug into her ivory cup, and then passed it to her with a warm smile. She took it gratefully and sipped it with a wide grin.

He really was a charming one. Terese sat beside her, apparently lost in thought, as she refrained from her usual tsking noises when Lune showed Jean such gallantry. It seemed Terese was actually defending Adem's right to be Jean's only partner, whenever Prince Lune showed more than a casual interest. It was a ridiculous notion of course, being affectionate with an Immortal Prince, and Lydia's son to be exact!

However, whenever he gazed at her with those big blue eyes, she sensed a deep connection, despite the fact that at times the dark centres of those eyes burnt with a dangerous glow. Lune assured her he followed the restrictions, wielding teron only once a week to form Shield-Spells. Yet Jinn-Magic was infecting them all more and more as the days went by. How long could they resist the inevitable? What hope was there for any of them?

'You look troubled, Daughter of Thor,' Lune said with concern. 'What can I do to settle your thoughts?' Jean realised she had still been brooding over Adem. She knew if she learnt just how beautiful this other woman was, she would be fraught with anxiety and self-loathing. Adem's betrayal was devastating to her! How could he allow another woman to kiss him? On the lips! She didn't need any confirmation from her Battle Angels to be certain that was exactly what had occurred just now. She would boil his bones in acid before she allowed him to touch her again!

'It's nothing, dear Prince,' she said. 'Just a stain on my best Sunday gown, I'll need to send it to the cleaners.'

'I'll have it taken care of right away, Jean Fairsythe!' Lune said, sounding flabbergasted that it hadn't been taken care of already.

'I was speaking in metaphors, Prince Lune, forgive my cryptic nature.'

'Oh ... no, but of course you were. Forgive me, Lady Jean,' Lune said looking abashed. She was gladdened that he had the sense not to inquire to the true meaning of her words. Adem could learn a few lessons from this man's common sense.

She gazed across at Hayley who sat talking to Elviara and Verielle. Hayley wore red silk under a dark cloak of fine wool, Elviara in dark blue silk and a white cloak, and Verielle in an emerald gown and navy cloak, embroidered with golden foxes.

Verielle had become quite close to Jean during their journey east, and since arriving at Korhad. Hayley spoke with them at mealtimes, though only then. Jean however had learnt to accept the self-important attitude of Elviara's close friend. Verielle really was a sweet girl, seemingly more a girl than a woman most days. Her innocence intrigued Jean to no end.

They often spoke in the confines of Jean's chambers, about boys and dresses and hair styles, girl stuff. Jean continued to keep Elviara close also, though she had not warmed to the woman as much as she had Verielle.

She had decided both women were just harmless figureheads. Terese still watched them with unease, though Jean had advised her to accept them as a part of her inner circle. She could not quite recall when exactly she had changed her mind about Verielle, but over time she started to see that the girl was special, in her own unique way.

Verielle looked her way and gave her a bright-eyed grin. This time Terese noticed and made that tsk noise. Verielle shook her head, still smiling, and returned her focus to Elviara's conversation with Hayley. There was little hostility between the three women over Hayley's effect on terael, they seemed to take it in their stride and hold no blame over her.

Signs were beginning to show there also, however.

There was a new sense of energy associated with the curse. Ael Tarael were going for days without sleep, vitalised and vibrant, they each found their own little obsessions to take up their time. Some went into studies of cures; others practiced new Angel-Spells and discovered new possibilities. But along with the energy came the unsettling changes in the women's moods, at times elated and other times worrisome or bitter. Fights broke out amongst even the most reserved of Ael Tarael, bickering over the simplest of matters.

It was cause for concern; it seemed the curse would eventually infect their minds in a similar way to Jinn-Magic within teron. If that was true, something had to be done soon to avoid the spread of similar symptoms. If the curse would inevitably drive Ael Tarael into madness, it was a catastrophe waiting to happen.

Fortunately, none of the women had taken up a desire to drink blood, none had grown fangs or developed a susceptibility to sunlight. That suggested it was unlikely the curse would result in all female wielders becoming vampires.

She tried to focus her thoughts, still slightly perturbed over Adem and his unfaithful act, and uncontrollably troubled by the weight of all other responsibilities that lay upon her shoulders.

'I find tea is remarkably virulent at taking away the stresses that plague the mind,' Lune said, still scanning her for signs of unease. He lifted the pot to offer more, but she waved her hand as she said, 'It's just that things seem to be getting worse all the time. I have so much to consider. The tea is soothing though, thank you, Prince Lune,' then she smiled in a seductive way as she said, 'remarkably,' before taking another sip. If Adem Highlander wished to flirt with his little bit on the side, she could offer Lune more than common courtesy.

Terese said, 'Tsk, tsk!' Jean fought the urge to groan, still grinning at Lune. A great chasm had formed between her and Adem this day, wide and as deep as the foundations of the earth. He would need to build a solid bridge if he ever wished to cross it, or he would surely fall into endless depths.

***

Adem was making his way to lunch, when he crossed a hallway and nearly bumped head on into Isabelle. Her face showed the signs of recent tears, her eyeliner slightly smudged and her red cheeks puffy. She was a regal figure at the lowest of times, and this was no exception.

Despite her disgruntled mood she appeared every bit the daughter of a King and Queen. She held herself with perfect posture, staring him down with eyes that probed deep within his soul. Then in a flash her mood changed, her eyes were filled with sympathy, and she smiled, innocently, like a girl, though she was at least ten years his senior.

Immortals matured slower than mortals, most did anyway, he had learnt this particularly from his time spent with Isabelle. The wisdom in her eyes was often blurred by her child-like expressions and behaviours. She tapped a finger on his nose; he shied back but did not retreat. 'I forgive you, my sweetness,' she said. 'I understand the conflict you must be experiencing. On one hand you feel compelled to serve beside the Daughter of Thor, a fate you cannot escape, despite the yearning in your heart. On the other hand, you see me, the daughter of two great Houses, beautiful and kind, and a temptation to your heart that brings you chaos within.'

'I hear your words, Princess,' he began, but she cut him off, saying, 'You must give in to your true desires, Son of Odin. I know the truth of your most ardent wishes. I feel it in the way you look upon me. If you were any other man, I would order you to succumb to my demands. However, I shall offer you time to contemplate what I have told you.' She then blew him a kiss and turned to glide off down the hall.

Adem stood staring at her curves with a heavy heart as she moved off into the distance, the floor polished red marble, the walls blue-grey stone with red-and-gold tapestries. He wondered if what she had said was in some way true. Could he love another woman more than he loved Jean?

Despite her pointed ears, Isabelle was truly gorgeous, and she did make his heart melt whenever he gazed into her big dark eyes. But didn't Jean make him feel just the same way?

Of course, she did, he had just been too long apart from her to remember how he truly felt. But how was he going to settle things with Isabelle and still maintain a stable reputation with her father? The Ruhalden King was needed to uphold the immortal nations, especially after the fall of two of the four Immortal Kings.

Calicos was a relatively new kingdom, and although it was the home of their king, the Ruhalden travelled the coasts from here to the most eastern tip of the North Sea, trading and living on the waves. Aranel to the west was a much older Ruhalden city, where Erroll's son, Prince Kelkin, was ruler.

Eventually he arrived at the Royal Dining Hall, where he entered to find Carl and Wil, seated across from Tobin, Orion and Arig. Lydia and Elmira sat further down the long-polished table, whispering to one another, and not even looking up as he began to speak with his friends. He sat and was about to pour a cup of cider, when the door burst open and King Erroll stormed in with a look of outrage on his face!

Chapter 12

The Ruhalden King

King Erroll stood over Adem with cold blooded murder in his eyes, when the man was usually so calm and placid. His wife looked more Torvellen in skin tone, though she was of the Ruhalden blood. Erroll was of the Nordic clan, though he became the Ruhalden King through marriage. Senfia wished to form a strong bond with King Tobin, by joining with a member of his House. Therefore, Erroll looked nothing like most Ruhalden, fair skinned with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was similar looking to Tobin in build and height however, with a thick golden moustache and pointed goatee.

Adem nearly dropped the pitcher of cider at his shock from the King's entrance. He stared up knowingly, certain that the man had heard of the events that took place earlier in the day.

'My daughter is beside herself with grief!' the man shouted, pounding his fists down against the oak tabletop. 'She tells me you made advances upon her, and then you refused her outright, claiming that your heart belongs to another!'

'I have tried to make it clear to the both of you,' Adem began, with a perplexed expression, 'that there is a relationship between myself and the Daughter of Thor.'

'That gives you no right to toy with my daughter's emotions!' Erroll roared, he was a head and shoulders taller than Adem, and built with a wide frame.

'I was openly pursued by your daughter, King Erroll. I made no attempts to toy with her.'

'That is not the version she gave me, Adem Highlander,' Erroll said, though in a more cautious tone, as if he was remembering the way his daughter could twist the truth. Not that Adem knew such things of the woman before now; though Erroll's altered expression suggested he was well aware of such practices from his daughter. 'Regardless of who started it, I have seen the way you look at her. You would be a liar if you denied having feelings for her.'

'That is true, King Erroll,' Adem said. 'Though, I have tried to explain to your daughter that our feelings cannot continue. She must find a suitable husband. My place is with the Daughter of Thor.' He used Jean's official title to try to lend support to his argument that his duty was to serve by Jean's side, not Isabelle's.

'Still there is the matter of unresolved feelings,' Erroll said with a shrug of his bear-like shoulders. 'I wish you to search your heart, Adem Highlander, and choose, between your duty and your true desires.'

'I hear your words, and I shall consider their wisdom.' It was an arrogant response, especially considering the man's temper, but Adem had to learn to address all rulers in such a way, even kings who still held onto their crowns. He then noticed both his friends wearing amused expressions. Carl was attempting to hide his smirk behind his hand, while Wil was looking down at his hands, palms facing up on the tabletop, as if he'd never seen them before in his life! It upset him to think that he had hurt Isabelle's feelings, but the least his friends could do was try to keep a straight face about it. He thought they enjoyed the notion that there were still two women in this world who would not take orders from him.

Suddenly Lydia and Elmira broke into soft almost silent laughter, covering their mouths with their hands as they began to rock back and forth in their chairs. He was certain he started to blush after that.

Later when he was alone in his chambers, he heard a gentle knocking at the door. He feared he knew who it would be, but still he called, 'Enter!' Sure enough, Isabelle poked her head through the doorway, and then glided into the room, this time in a white silk gown sewn with pink pearls. Her cloak was ash grey silk, embroidered with cherry blossoms in pink and white. Her mood appeared calm this time, that unhinged look gone from her gaze, her eyeliner repaired; and her cheeks smooth and dusted with rouge.

'Father told me what he said to you, Lord Adem, forgive me. I only told him that we had a disagreement, and when he pressed me for details, I told him about our kiss.'

'I understand, Isabelle, no need to apologise. Now, if you would excuse me, I need some time alone to think about this predicament we find ourselves in.' Isabelle closed the door behind her, turning the key till the lock clicked. She smiled warmly, gliding up beside him, and then seating herself across his lap in the red armchair where he sat reclined. He couldn't possibly push her off; she was a Princess after all!

'We can discuss it together like mature adults,' she said, before he replied, 'I was actually talking about the curse on terael and taint on teron.'

'Those problems are beyond anything we can hope to mend at this stage.' She brushed a hand over his head, and then ran a finger over his eyebrows which made him twitch. 'We must deal with matters at hand, Adem Highlander, the issues that concern you and me.'

'I have to stay faithful, Isabelle,' Adem said, as she started to play with his coat buttons. He looked down to see her undoing two buttons, and then looked up as she moved in to kiss him again. He wanted to pull away, but she had his head pushed against the back of the couch. He wanted to say no, but a part of him wanted the kiss to continue. He wanted to be stronger, but inside he felt weak, helpless, without a hope of defending his integrity.

Time drifted, lost in the soft sweet kisses that became more passionate as time slipped by. Before he knew it, they had made their way to the four posted bed with red drapery. She pushed him down while straddling him like he was a pony at the fair. She sat up to start undoing her own buttons from the back of her dress, pulling the gown down around her shoulders and pushing it to her waist.

Once Adem saw her smooth pale skin exposed, he lost any chance of forbidding this decision. She threw herself over him to kiss him again. She stripped off his coat and ripped the buttons on his pale shirt, exposing his chest and abdomen. He wanted to refuse her, but he also wanted this to happen more than he had allowed himself to realise until this moment. Isabelle was gorgeous, so beautiful it seemed somehow impossible for her to be real. But she was real; she was a woman of flesh and blood, a temptress with unquenchable desire.

It was hours later when they both lay back on the sheets and took a moment to catch their breaths. The woman had the stamina of a raging torrent; her passion was like bathing in a sea of fire with a storm blowing overhead. The sensation that washed over him during those hours was comparable to feeling Angel-Magic flow through his veins. He had made a terrible mistake, though for now, he was basking in the radiance of the moment.

Surprisingly he had not sensed Jean's emotions the entire time he had spent with Isabelle. He wondered about that, had she learnt to switch off the connection somehow? Surely Jean had known what had just transpired, and surely, she was calculating her revenge like a Master of Games. However, despite the sense of guilt and dread that started to take hold of him, Adem felt that what he had done was in some way, right.

Then he felt it, his sense of Jean entered his mind, like the prying eyes of a she-dragon made of flames of pure rage, she was furious! He sat upright, a deeper sense of guilt and regret entering his heart and mind. He tried to send soothing thoughts to her to try to appease her anger, which resulted in a furnace of outrage scorching his mind, sent from Jean's mind to his. How was he going to explain his way out of this one? If she was this upset, she might never forgive his betrayal. 'What have I done?' he whispered, as he began to tremble all over.

Isabelle sat up next to him, the sheet pulled over her breasts as she laid a hand on his shoulder and said, 'You mustn't feel regret for what your heart knows is right, Adem. I can't expect you to forget your love for Jean, but you have given yourself to me too. We are connected now in a way that cannot be undone. Surely the rewards were worth the price you will pay?' As Adem reflected on that last comment he admitted, 'I suppose you're right Isabelle. It was my decision, and I shall pay whatever price Jean will exact upon me. I must admit, this isn't the first time I've found my heart torn between two women. It's a fault of mine, a lack of focus. I hate to say this, but I think this should be the only time we make this mistake.' Isabelle's eyes narrowed, like a dark hawk looking over its prey before reaching with its talons.

'You think this was a mistake, Adem Highlander?' She spoke the words like a hissing serpent, rage bubbling under the surface of her calm visage. There was danger when a woman addressed you in such tones, and a dangerous glow began to radiate in her dark eyes. 'You think that you can bed me and then turn me aside because you feel guilt and regret?' Her voice was becoming louder with each word. 'You think that I will stand aside and allow you to throw yourself at the mercy of the Daughter of Thor, to receive her punishments, and you believe that you shall escape my own?' Her eyes now appeared to be hot coals, wide and fuming, her face a mask of controlled rage.

'Forgive me, Isabelle, please, I need to think. I can't expect you to accept that I still have feelings for Jean, but what she and I have is a rare deep binding that goes beyond regular desire. We are joined by mind and spirit, and we've been together longer than I've known you. I admit; I want to continue a relationship with you, but I fear Jean may bring a punishment upon me that I may not be able to live with.' His words had seemed to calm Isabelle's mood a little, she regained composure, the fire dwindling from her gaze as she replied, 'It's alright, I understand. You need more time to think about your feelings for Jean, and your unbridled passion for me. I am pleased to say this meeting has satisfied me for the day, though I may expect more than this by tomorrow.' Adem swallowed a sore lump in his throat, in fear of what exactly that might mean. However, he restrained a sigh of relief when the woman sat off the side of the bed and pulled her dress up over her knees, and then stood to pull the gown over her shoulders. She gathered her dishevelled hair into a ponytail then twisted it up into a bun, turning to bat her eyelids as she asked, 'Can you button me up, sweetheart?'

Adem actually felt more guilt helping her back into her dress, than he had when helping her out of it. But that was the way of it he supposed, passion before rational thought. The red dragon still burnt in his mind, Jean's fury a crescendo of flames that rivalled the fires that wreathed his Battle Angels via Jinn-Magic. The sense was so disturbing; he had to wonder if the curse was causing some part of this new emotion. Was Jean going to experience similar symptoms to Adem as a result of the corruption on terael? That was a thought that troubled him deeply. He couldn't tolerate the idea that Jean could become ill in ways similar to himself.

Isabelle blew him a kiss, and then glided across the room, unlocking the door, leaving it half open and stopping to blow another kiss before she left. Adem sighed deeply after he heard her soft footfalls fading in the distance. Jean's emotions had not subsided in the slightest. Their next meeting would be a confrontation he might not survive.

***

Carl sat next to Wil, in the Royal Dining Hall, across from Tobin and Orion, with their two wives seated further down the end of the polished table. The usual dishes were prepared, roasted meats, sliced fruit and bread with large wheels of cheeses. Adem still hadn't arrived for his evening meal, the sky outside was dark although the moon shone brightly over the city and the clear sky revealed thousands of burning stars. That had been over an hour earlier, when Carl had looked out his window before making his way to dinner.

He sat chewing on some sliced duck in a rich dark sauce, when King Erroll burst into the room with a manic expression on his face. The bear-like form of the man seemed to dominate Carl's view, as he gazed up at the man. Carl felt a tad nervous around the man when he looked this crazed, which was rare up until the King had learnt of the affair between Adem and Isabelle.

'My daughter has informed me that she has given herself to Adem Highlander.' Surprisingly, his mood calmed dramatically as he spoke those words, and a look of amusement glistened in his eyes. 'Therefore, I feel it is now our duty to make arrangements for their marriage ceremony.' Carl nearly choked on the mouthful he'd been chewing. He finished chewing carefully before he said, 'It is my understanding that Adem has also "given" himself to the Daughter of Thor. If such an act is followed by immediate weddings in your culture, it would seem that Adem's engagement to Jean Fairsythe is already long overdue.'

King Erroll wore a perplexed expression, rubbing his forehead with one hand as his fingers drummed the table with the other. 'Well then, now, that is a pickle. I have already told Adem Highlander that he must choose between my daughter and Jean Fairsythe. I believe his actions on this day speak of the true nature of his heart.'

Carl pushed the plate aside and folded his hands in prayer position under his nose, a calculating pose, that gave him strength of mind through focus. 'That may be true, King Erroll,' Carl began, 'but my knowledge of Adem's emotions are that they can be a tricky thing to understand. In fact, you might say,' and Carl began to grin at this, 'that Adem Highlander's infatuations are dependent on his proximity to the object of his desires.'

King Erroll stroked his moustache thoughtfully, before replying, 'So, you mean to say, that he falls in love with every pretty face he sees?'

'You might put it in such terms, King Erroll,' Carl said, 'though it is not as simple as that, at least I don't think it is. Currently, Adem has feelings for two women, and he has given himself to both of these women, creating cultural repercussions.'

'Custom declares that he must marry my daughter within the week!' Erroll spluttered.

'Yes, that may be so, but we are talking about the fate of one of the Sons of Odin. Surely there are ways we can accommodate to custom and provide adequate leniency for the parties involved.' Carl then detected the soft laughter of Lydia and Elmira, the two women wearing sky blue silk this evening, giggling like schoolgirls behind their hands and shaking with mirth. Those two were changing since they'd lost the weight of responsibility. They seemed to enjoy life more, seeing humour in things that would have made them scowl with disdain in the past. Their laughter brought controlled expressions of amusement to the eyes of Tobin and Orion also, though both men bowed their heads to avoid getting caught up in the conversation. So, this was going to be Carl's responsibility to deal with Adem's free love persona!

'Let me talk to him, I'll see what can be arranged.' Carl spoke the words through clenched teeth.

***

Jean felt a part of herself breaking, like a deep wound ripping through her heart and soul. The betrayal! She wasn't certain if Adem felt her initial pain—that she tried to withhold from his senses—so terrible she struggled to remain standing, then as her assurance of the act he was performing continued, and then ended, she allowed him to feel the full force of her rage. After that she felt the heartache overwhelm her completely, she lost her balance and fell unconscious.

When she came around, Terese was the first face she saw, her large dark eyes filled with concern as she caressed her brow with slender fingers and polished nails.

'That damn foolish boy!' Terese said in pure irritation. 'I'll skin him alive this time, see if I don't! I told you to be more careful of your emotions, Jean. I warned you. He doesn't deserve you, he's very sick, and that means untrustworthy also. He's a selfish, two-faced, pig-headed oaf!'

Jean pushed her friend's hand aside and sat upright to say, 'He's a free man, Terese. He can do whatever he pleases. He is one of the Chosen after all.'

'And so are you, Jean. You deserve his absolute devotion and faithfulness, or else he deserves a hard kick in the crotch!'

'I hardly think that would solve much, the situation being as it is. Though I shall keep that in mind for the next time I see his face.'

Prince Lune leaned over towards her, standing to her left as he said, 'Perhaps Lord Adem should be thinking more of his duty and less with his—'

'Exactly,' Jean said, cutting the Prince off before he finished the sentence.

Less with his joystick! Jean thought to herself; which brought amusement from Tanriel through the kigare, as well as some confusion about the term used, which stilled Jean's rage. It was a terrible wound he'd opened up inside of her. She thought she might never recover from the humiliation of it all!

'I'm fine,' she said, standing with a hand from Terese. 'He deserves what happiness he can find in this world, before he meets his fate. I will not stand in the way of his true desires.'

'You're sounding wiser by the minute,' Terese said, with a nervous grin. 'Let's get some hot tea and sit and have a good bitch session about that two-timing back-stabber!' Jean's eyebrows rose at how much Terese was starting to sound like a modern-day woman from Earth, concerned her influence may be less than favourable on the Hero of Will.

'I'd prefer a stiff drink right about now,' Jean said, then she linked arms with Prince Lune as she asked, 'Would you be so kind as to break open a bottle of the oldest and most potent spirits you have available?'

'I think I know what you're after,' Lune replied. 'Shall we all retire to my chambers?'

'That sounds a delightful idea, Prince Lune. Lead the way.' She strolled off still linked with Lune on one arm, and Hayley moved in beside her, to take her arm on the right side, which was just in time, because Jean felt another overwhelming desire to pass out. The pain was unbearable, but she wore it deep down with a tight grin, Terese groaning like a wounded wolf as she fell into line behind them.

'I'm not one to give advice on men, I'll admit that,' Terese began. 'But if you let a man chase after every young woman he sees, soon you'll find that trying to control him is like trying to stop a dog from salivating in a room full of lamb cutlets.' Jean tsked, then in frustration asked Tanriel: Who is the little troll?

The Ruhalden Princess; was Tanriel's reply through the kigare, soft as wind chimes. This time it was Jean's turn to start groaning, though on the inside she was howling!

***

'You have to make a decision, Adem!' Carl shouted across the table, where his friend sat in a large cushioned armchair. Carl stood with arms crossed over his chest, tapping one foot in irritation at Adem's indecisiveness. 'I'm certain Jean would know of your betrayal by now, she probably knew the entire time you were doing it!'

'She is well aware, I assure you,' Adem said, with a perplexed frown.

'King Erroll wants results, Adem! He wants you to marry his daughter! What do you plan to do about it?'

'I can't marry her,' Adem said, after a deep sigh.

'If you were any other man, King Erroll would have you executed!'

'I love Jean, I just...I think I love Isabelle too.'

'Perfect!' Carl shouted. 'That's just bloody perfect! I suppose you'll be hoping for two marriages?'

'Don't be absurd.'

'Well what then? Damn it, Adem, we're in the fight of our lives and you're thinking like a lovesick teenager! I don't know what to do with you! You seem to have lost all scope of the bigger picture! Think how much is at stake! Make a decision!'

'Have you accepted your evening Healing-Magic, Carl?'

'Make a decision, Adem!' His words gave Carl pause for thought however, this was the most enraged he'd been since, well, since...ever! Was Jinn-Magic making his emotions run wild until his temper began to slip? Much like it always did to Adem? He took three deep breaths, said a silent prayer, and asked God to give him focus and peace of mind. It did not work, however. He was pushed beyond an easy return to any state of calm.

'How could you do this, Adem? How could you do this to Jean? She'll be heartbroken! It jeopardises her emotional state. You're just plain bloody selfish!

'I warn you, Adem, if you continue this affair with Isabelle, I'll be forced to move forward with a wedding ceremony. That will crush Jean. But I'm under extreme pressure from the Ruhalden King! An Immortal King! End it, Adem. See that it's done tonight.' He was reaching a state of calm, though his tone promised further wrath if his words were not followed to the letter.

'I'll talk with Isabelle,' Adem said. 'I'll try to explain things to her in a way she can understand.'

'I don't understand you, Adem, nor can anyone else lately.' Carl was calm now. He was in control of his senses. 'I don't know if you've noticed, but it's been an unnaturally long summer. We are well into autumn and the heat is still drying the land to dust. There has been little rainfall. The first snows should be arriving soon, but most days it feels like we're baking in an oven. Something is very wrong. God only knows the truth of Fendinn's designs.'

'And the Dark Angels,' Adem retorted.

'Yes, well, if things don't improve, there will be no harvest next year. Crops will fail; our food supply will run out. People whisper of this in the city. I keep my ears open for such things. My Battle Angels also assure me this thing is not natural. We have to find a solution, or the people will die, Adem, everyone will die.'

'We'll take care of Tairark; then we'll go in search of the Heart of Odin.'

'Fine, that's the plan then. We'll march into the lion's den, put our head in its mouth, and see what we come up with?'

'It's not a perfect plan, I'll admit that, but what other choice do we have? Do you want to abandon this mission?'

'No, Adem, I want you to make a decision. Sort this thing out with Isabelle, and let's get going. We also need to start thinking of how we're going to defeat Jinn-Fendinn.'

'I'm working on that too,' Adem said, looking proud now, his back straight and his face calm. 'Give me a moment to speak to Isabelle...then we'll leave tonight.'

'Finally, the great hero arises. I'll leave you alone to brood on it, like you always do.' With that Carl turned and strode from the room, deciding not to slam the door when he left, although he felt the urge.

***

Adem decided not to brood, however. He watched his friend leave, then picked himself up and made his way for the door. He wasn't sure how he would explain things to Isabelle, though he hoped to make a clean break.

What troubled him most were Carl's words about the weather. He had no clues what was causing it, or how to reverse the effects. It was the plain truth however, if they did not find a way to fix that problem soon, all of his plans would fall into ruin.

His sense of Jean was that she was becoming intoxicated, her mood somewhat appeased, and he sensed flirtatiousness in her too, aimed at Prince Lune no doubt.

He'd learnt to detect those emotions in her, and he guessed the Prince to be the most likely candidate for her to aim her affections. He was strikingly handsome after all, soft-toned and kind-hearted; a male version of his mother. Adem couldn't let jealousy cloud his judgement, Lune had to ascend to the Nordic throne. Plans into action, time running short, a rash decision that could upset the fate of the world ... he stumbled on with a deep sigh.

When he arrived at Isabelle's room, the door was ajar; he knocked, and then peered in when she called for him to, 'Enter!'

'I have to go, Isabelle,' he said that while standing halfway through the doorway and saw her displeasure light up in her eyes. He stepped all the way into the room and slowly walked to stand beside her. She lay face down on her pink silk bed sheets, the aqua woollen covers thrown back as if she'd been kicking them in a tantrum.

'So, you're just going to leave me? When will you be back?'

He wanted to tell her he wasn't coming back, he wanted to tell her he loved Jean more than his heart could take, but the words froze on his lips as she stared up at him with a quivering raised black eyebrow.

'I'm not sure when I'll be able to return, but when I do, we can talk about our situation some more, OK?'

'I'll be waiting for you, Adem Highlander,' she spoke with deep emotion, as if holding back a floodgate of tears.

'I'll keep you in my heart, Little Sparrow.' He leant over to kiss her forehead, brushing the first tear from her cheek. The weight in his heart felt like a barrel of lead as he crossed that red tiled floor, then he fuelled his rage with one lingering thought ... He was going to execute Tairark Vampire-King!

Chapter 13

The Vampire Coven

Talegon and Kelflax crouched low, in the thick brown leaves that were dry, and pock marked, a mixture of the diseased plant life in the Southlands, combined with the unnatural scorching heat waves. Talegon gripped a large golden axe, it glowed dull crimson in the night as he was close to the crypt of Tairark and his vampire coven.

Talegon and Kelflax had made their way south to meet with Adem Highlander's army during the weeks they'd stationed at Calicos. It was pivotal to their peace of mind that they be close to King Orion at all times, though he was their King no longer. They had served as his personal guard for decades before Jean Fairsythe took away his crown.

They were fraught with panic when Orion and Elmira left with Adem Highlander via their teleport capacity. It had set them back a way, but they were determined to catch up with Orion no matter the cost. Jean Fairsythe had not taken away their right to serve as Orion and Elmira's protectors, which gave Talegon some peace of mind and less anger towards the woman for her harsh verdict.

Adem's teleport technique had transported Talegon and Kelflax from nearly five miles north, to this location. Their army had marched for two weeks to cross the mountains and enter the Southlands, moving in smaller groups with a rallying point three miles north of these ruins.

They lay crouched at the edge of a plateau, looking over a ravine between them and the layers of grey stone slabs that formed the pyramid style fortifications of Morgrahl Kordahn. It was an ancient city, formed during the Age of Rebirth, when these lands were claimed by ancient Immortal Kings of the original twelve clans.

This was the city of King Tan, who was now one of the Heroes of Will, chained to the Shield of Fire and the Harp of Odin, as was his wife, Queen Elsalos. Talegon remembered seeing their faces during the battle at Nordhel when the Souljhin attacked.

Tan with flowing white hair and a beard of white flame, his eyes like dark seeds with a hooked nose like a hawk's beak. Elsalos with hair of golden flame wielded an emerald bow that fired Lukrorian Arrows of green light. She was perhaps the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, even as a spectre of shadow and light, her eyes large blue pools that crackled with contained lightning. That had been in the hallways surrounding the library where the main battle took place. If his King had fallen due to his absence that night, Talegon would have fallen on his own sword as penance.

He looked over to his friend, who had two blades crossed over his shoulders, as well as his blue wooden bow. Talegon's bow was green wood with a metallic shine, and his bow case also glistened as if it was wet metal. They wore brightly coloured armour, Talegon's crimson and Kelflax's dark blue.

Kelflax raised two fingers; then pointed to the tops of the pyramid slabs, where two men walked with an agile grace, both in dark leather jerkins and brown leathers, a bow on each of their shoulders and arrows at their waist belts. They were vampires by the look of them, though werewolves could remain unaltered on nights when the moon wasn't full—like tonight—which would make them more dangerous adversaries.

There were more men on the lower slabs, patrolling the many rectangular dark doorways that lined the walls of the tomb. Those were less of a threat however, as they would not spot Talegon and Kelflax as easily.

Despite this fact, the guards appeared unusually casual, even arrogant, though Talegon was less experienced with vampires and werewolves. Perhaps they saw no reason to fear the scattered peoples of these lands, who were unlikely to ever attempt an uprising against their dark masters. The other possibility irked Talegon to a degree however, the thought that they might be walking into a deadly trap—

Footsteps ... close by, behind him! They shared a glance of panic then cautiously turned and crept towards the nearest thicket of bushes, without rustling a single leaf. They made no sound as their bodies turned on the stone slab without rising more than a half foot.

Sure enough, prowling through the bushes was a beast of black flesh, massive hands like elongated bear claws, a massive head and maw of a thick-skulled wolf without fur. It raised its head, sniffing at the air, moving cautiously through the bushes as it went, as if to avoid making more noise. It was onto them!

Still they crouched, Talegon raising his golden axe slightly, as Kelflax eased his bow from his back and raised an arrow to notch to the string. Lukrorian Arrows would have suited much better for taking down such a beast, though the light may draw more attention. Perhaps in this case Carl Wilder's decree had saved them from making a terrible mistake.

His fears were confirmed when another black bulk marched out of a thicket further ahead than the first one, then two more, each one sniffing the air like a faithful hound on the hunt.

We have to get out of here! Kelflax signalled to Talegon in hand language. Talegon returned the signal for, Hornet in the Beehive. His friend looked like Talegon had just kicked him in the guts; the signal meant they were going to fight this one out, on Talegon's next signal. The noise could draw the entire coven onto them, but they could not move with enough stealth to avoid being heard, regardless of how keenly these creatures could detect a human scent, and Talegon was certain they were seconds away from closing in on them.

***

Tairark heard his pets howling in the night to the south of his lair. He waited with patience for his plan to take fruition. All was happening according to the High-Jinn's commands. He'd set the bait, that feeble wife of Wil Martyr would make a pretty vampire bride, though the White Snow Fox had been the real target in that attack. That annoyance of a Hero of Will, Terese Sapphire-Sword, was too crafty for that part to succeed, however.

The Highlander boy was close. He could sense his presence, also to the south, while his forces waited several miles north of the ruins. Kelveroth had kept his knowledge of this endeavour a secret from Tairark, hoping to eliminate some competition. Still, he was his Brother, and Tairark wouldn't let a lack of communication interfere in their cause to eliminate mankind.

The heating of the planet had made difficulties for his servants however, though they were all just tools for the High-Jinn, tools that were expendable when his greater plans took shape. The blazing sunlight had kept his vampire coven under lockdown during the daylight hours, despite the cloud cover across the Southlands that usually allowed vampires to walk in daylight.

That left his Nightwalkers unsuitably equipped for this oncoming attack, as they had not fed since the previous night, and their skills and abilities would be lacking their full potential. Despite this fact he'd allowed the entire coven to take a human victim the previous night, close to five thousand villagers would die and be reborn to the Shadow as a result. His minions did not know this, but the reason he'd allowed the feeding was so that they would replenish his coven with fresh Nightwalkers, as he feared very few would survive this battle. Another expendable set of tools thrown aside in wake of the High-Jinn's insufferable plotting. Still, the pieces fell into place, and now he would wait, as the chickens tried to infiltrate the doghouse.

***

Adem stood on the heights, looking over the valley where Talegon and Kelflax had been scouting. He'd followed them here, after his army arrived three miles north of the ruins. Orion and Tobin stood to either side of him, their wives insisted on being with them at all times also and stood to either side of the men.

Large dark shapes bounded through the mist, their bloodcurdling howls filling the night sky. Talegon and Kelflax were seen running with incredible speed, leading the werewolves away from the ruins heading south-west. 'The alarm has been raised!' he whispered urgently to his companions. 'The time to strike is now or never!' Adem felt a stab of guilt at the thought of leaving the two Aldebrands to their potential deaths, though this battle would have many casualties on both sides.

'You would leave my bodyguards here to die alone?' Orion asked, aghast.

'If we waste any more time, we could lose the momentum we need to win this! We've already lost the element of surprise, Tairark is probably awake!' He clutched his bow in his right hand as he urgently whispered the name, 'Llew Llaw Gyffes!'

The column of blue flame of his Battle Angel's form rose before them. He began the spell necessary to teleport back to the main forces in a blur of thought—though as he watched the world swirl and twist around him, Orion lurched out of the circle of transport, Elmira gasped and leapt after him before Adem could complete the spell. In a moment of panic, he held onto the mechanism for teleportation, as Tobin and Lydia followed after their friends; running through the night with immortal speed.

Adem couldn't make up his mind; bring the bulk of the army; or stay to save his friends from certain death. They were the rightful rulers of the Nordics and the Torvellen. He loved those four like they were family. He had to stay and fight!

***

Carl waited on horseback, alongside Wil, both in Alit'aren black with breastplates forged of toramor armour. Only Tairark's blade or those of the other Hex-Warlords could dent it. Carl's was crimson red, Wil's black as night. Behind them was close to ten thousand warriors from the Free Lands, those who had joined them before Calicos, and those that met them on the march through the Southlands. They awaited Adem's return to teleport them to the lair.

More time had passed than he expected, when suddenly—a wave of panic from Adem sent through the kigare, followed by Math Mathonwy sending to Carl, Plan B!

Carl glared at Wil, who returned a face of understanding, as Wil cried, 'Eledisren!'

Then Carl shouted, 'Math Mathonwy!'

The two Battle Angels appeared in shimmering light, immediately fanning wings of fire, Dis Pater's golden, Math Mathonwy's crimson. They lifted Carl and Wil into the air, as Carl resonated his voice with Angel-Magic to shout back to his army, 'Plan B! Charge!'

Of course, they had a plan B.

As Carl and Wil flew into the sky, carried on the wings of their Battle Angels, the front cavalry of three thousand or more altherin bred horses began to gallop southward. The remaining ranks were formed of mortal horses, and mostly mortal soldiers, the reserves who would arrive some time behind the front ranks. Carl heard thousands of hooves like a rippling wave of thunder, as he soared through the night sky towards the ruins of the vampire coven.

He was there within moments, the two Battle Angels flying like bolts of lightning! That would have drained their ki'mera reserves to a degree, though nothing near what a Linked teleport of the entire army would have drained. Plan B allowed for their Battle Angels to stay in the fight.

To the south of the ruins, on the heights of the plateau, he sensed Adem wielding Angel-Magic. A bar of liquid blue light cut through the darkness to strike a leaping black shape that burst into flames. More of the beasts surged through the bushes all around Adem. He saw his friend throw a series of punches in a circle all around him, a blast of thick blue flame flying from every fist; striking large black bulks and pushing them back!

Still more approached from all sides! Adem moved in a blur, punching left, then right, two forwards, one behind, blasts of blue flame flying from his fists! The impact wounded each target, though they weren't strong enough to take down a werewolf on the attack.

Set me down, there! Carl sent to Math Mathonwy through the kigare.

There is great danger, Carl Wilder, Math Mathonwy replied. Carl shouted at his Battle Angel, 'If we lose Adem, we lose everything!' Math Mathonwy swooped to land beside Adem, Carl leapt from the shoulders of his Battle Angel, as Wil did the same on the other side of Adem. The three looked at each other with relief as Carl sent to his Battle Angel, Shadow Hounds!

Twelve Shadow Hounds with fangs and claws like liquid steel sprang outwards from their circle, each one pouncing onto a startled werewolf and tearing out his heart.

Part of plan B was to conserve their Battle Angels' ki'mera levels until they faced Tairark, the only reason Adem's Fire Lions had not yet joined the fight. Their Battle Angels had been informed to withhold their strongest attacks, until ordered to unleash a new level of power.

Arawn still hadn't been summoned, but Dis Pater hovered over Wil with his massive golden axe raised to defend, while Math Mathonwy charged forward to decapitate two werewolves with one swipe of his burning red spear. Flame Crows spread forth like dark arrows, flying to punch through werewolf chests as the massive beasts collapsed with a gurgling howl. Dis Pater split the skull of a large dark werewolf, black blood spraying the air. He threw the axe that spun sideways through the forest to decapitate four more before the weapon returned to his grasp like a boomerang.

Dis Pater and Math swung their weapons to unleash sheets of golden and emerald flame, vaporizing dozens more that sprang up out of hiding. It seemed the enemy had planned their arrival for some time. Those beasts inspired pure terror in his soul, their howls the bloodthirsty cry of cursed men, each one capable of either ripping them to shreds or infecting them with their bite. Carl fired blazes through the forest air to strip these beasts down to burning bones. Bodies collapsed into piles of smoking char that glowed like hot coals.

***

Kelflax ran through the forest like water raging downhill, he was one with his environment, one with the sounds and scents of the air, the water, the grass, the animals. The gift of the Aldebrands heightened his senses similarly to the True Flow, though it was a melding of magic from the sky and the earth.

He was attuned to the thumping of the dark beasts in pursuit, there were three of them on his tail, each larger than any bear, taking great strides as they charged; sending chills up his spine with their ferocious howls.

Onwards he ran, leading his quarry like a gazelle pursued by three dark lions. A gazelle with razor sharp fangs ... he spun on his heel to draw and release a single arrow, the shaft soaring to plant itself deep in the skull of the first black beast.

It stumbled, losing its balance as the one behind pushed it aside to continue pursuit. Onwards he ran, like a leaf in a roaring gale, downhill now, he moved even faster than before. He spun to unleash a second arrow that took the closest to him in the chest. Still it gave chase, though it was slowed considerably from the wound.

This was the first stage of Hornet in the Beehive. He was the Hornet! His senses detected that the first werewolf he'd fired the arrow into still gave chase also. Three again! Onwards he ran.

***

Orion's golden blade Tigerclaw whipped through the air in a flurry of slashes and strikes, Shadow Dancer, into Midnight Bloom, hacking at the massive werewolf that lunged at him with its claws, barely deflecting each attack before it infected him with its deadly venom.

The werewolf's bite was what caused the curse however, that could not be healed.

Elmira stood several paces to his left; he'd intercepted the beast before it lunged into her. A bar of liquid blue flame flew from her fingers to turn the creature to a ball of fire, as Orion hacked its head from its shoulders in a spray of dark blood. The next was charging towards him as the first fell, he ran to meet it, the rest were further away, and he had the moment to spare to be separated from his cause to fight, his only cause; his darling wife.

As he slashed downwards above the creature's skull, hacking a large wound through its right eye, another blue bar hit the beast; it exploded in a shower of fire. He could move quickly, but it was faster to wield such a killing spell. He leapt backwards to avoid the spray of blood and flames, the beast collapsing with its head torn to shreds by the impact of the blast.

He moved in a blur of motion to take his wife's hand and they ran on into the night. They too were playing Hornet in the Beehive. They ran onwards seeking out Talegon and Kelflax, the forest floor moving beneath them like a vast flowing river of shadows and light. To their right, Tobin and Lydia moved like an altherin colt and mare, Lydia unleashing balls of blue flame to knock other werewolves off course. Angel-Magic was enhanced tenfold in both women as they held each other in a link. The beasts stumbled like rag dolls caught in a blazing furnace.

***

Adem unleashed a stream of blue fire, stunning a charging werewolf and knocking it off balance as it tumbled to the forest floor. He spun left, punching twice. Two blasts of blue fire flew into another black beast, pushing it backwards as blue flames licked its chest. He spun right, three punches, three wide arcs of fire—orange this time, he was getting tired—thudded into the skull of a larger black beast, sending it flying in a ball of golden flames.

He controlled the four points of north, south, east and west, Carl standing in the north-east gap, Wil in the south-west, Dis Pater and Math Mathonwy standing in the other two defence positions.

Wil unleashed bright golden arrows, stunning the creatures as Shadow Hounds lunged forward to take out each werewolf on that side. There were dozens of them, wave after wave.

It was definitely a trap!

In his mind he couldn't help but curse one man's name. Londrak! Why had he allowed the man to remain with the main forces? He should've kept him close for any signs of communication with the High-Servants. Of course, it may have been Kelveroth who had betrayed him, perhaps even more likely as he was one of the Hex-Warlords.

Left, two punches, walls of fire erupting to scatter the charging creatures.

Right three punches, the earth heaved beneath two werewolves to spray them with a volcano of flames. Or perhaps Tairark had planned this all along. Perhaps he'd targeted Hayley and Jean to incite a vendetta against him in the hearts of Adem and Wil, a simple form of trapping one's prey.

Three punches forward, lightning fell to strike a large black werewolf three times, pummelling it into the earth. What if they had another plan to take out Jean?

Right, one punch, a ball of red flames the size of a boulder flew from his fist to strike a grey skinned beast, the biggest one he'd seen so far! This one would stand head and shoulders higher than the back of a draft horse. The blast stunned the beast, as Math Mathonwy charged to plant his spear in its chest. It stood higher than the eight-feet-tall Battle Angel. The beast roared, clutching the spear and pulling Math Mathonwy towards him to swing its massive claw and send the Battle Angel flying backwards.

Wings of red flame blossomed behind Math to halt him mid-air; he landed and lunged again to slice the creature's head off with a sweeping of the spear. A moment after two Shadow Hounds had bitten down on the beast's muscular grey-furred arms. Dis Pater hacked a werewolf in half—right through the torso—black blood spraying the earth as he swung his golden axe.

Two right punches, two pillars of swirling green fire lanced toward another even bigger grey-furred monster! The pillars smashed into the creature, setting its flesh to flames, as Carl unleashed a bar of red flames from the tip of his spear, the bar was thin, precise. It burnt through the chest of the werewolf; it began to implode.

Three right punches, blue lightning struck the beast, a ball of red flames flew from his fist as the earth erupted to unleash an upward blast of blue flames.

Two more of the giant-sized creatures approaching from the west, Adem shouted, 'Balor!' His third Battle Angel was unleashed from the horn at his waist, a shimmering of blue armour on a white-bearded man with one eye and an eye-patch of pure ruby. A giant wolf of blue flames appeared before him and charged to meet the two werewolves. The spirit wolf's name was Shadowhunter.

Ki'mera flowed to him and his companions from the souls of the dead werewolves, balls of coloured light replenishing their Battle Angels' reserves—where Shadowspawn died there was always ki'mera orbs—

Adem heard a horn to the north! Followed by dozens more! He looked beyond the ruins to see thousands of soldiers, Aldebrands, and Alit'aren riding towards them through the mist. It was the first wave of altherin riders; they would have pushed those horses hard to arrive so fast.

Thank heavens Carl Wilder had come up with a Plan B!

As the thundering of hooves gathered in the air, the sky began to light up with vampires flying from the ruins, enchanted weapons glowing in their grasp.

Two right punches, walls of blue flame launching into a black skinned monster as the Battle Angels began to Link! That feeling alone felt like heaven erupting in his veins with Angel-Magic flowing through him, but something else happened then that made him feel more alive than he had in weeks since the pain of his betrayal. He sensed Jean, she was smiling, she was happy again!

He began to move his fists in all four directions with incredible speed, Angel-Magic gifting enough speed to match even the immortal kin, blazing blue bolts flew from every punch, or small fists of blue flame that appeared around him like a burning cross, each bolt or fist pummelling werewolves stumbling backwards; flesh melted like dark wax. Jean's love inspired new courage and determination, he punched twice in all four directions in a half second, sixteen fists, or bolts, every second, yet his mind was calm, despite the raw foulness on Angel-Magic, that corroded his bones like being dipped in a pool of acid. He roared like a raging Dragon. Carl and Wil joined his cry like a proud Lion and a ferocious Wolf. They would drive this enemy into oblivion or die trying.

***

Jean sat on her bedspread, laughing with joy! Tears streamed down her face, tears of fear, of regret, of loneliness, and pure joy! Adem was fighting a great cause down to the south, deep in the Southlands, fighting the armies of Tairark Vampire-King! She was certain of the location after checking it on the large map that lay sprawled at her feet.

Tanriel had revealed the truth before then, when the fighting began, though she checked the map to be certain it was true. So, he'd gone all that way, not to abandon her, but to avenge her. He still loved her! And she still loved him!

'I can feel him, Terese! I can sense them all, the Sons of Odin, they're fighting for their lives. I have to go to him. I still love him! I forgive him.'

'You've gone completely insane!' Terese shouted in agony. 'I'm your sworn protector. It's too dangerous.' She took Jean's head in her hands and held her like a toy doll needing support, as the tears flowed down both of their cheeks. Hayley was also crying, sitting on a chair against the wall in a blue dress with white flowers, but she was smiling too! They were tears of joy!

Chapter 14

To Gain a Hero

Jothar Kelderath led the charge, towards the vampire ruins of Morgrahl Kordahn. He and his soldiers had made the journey to Calicos on altherin horses, during the time the Sons of Odin waited there to gather an army for this mission.

He was an old man, white of hair, grizzled, tough, like a worn out but sturdy pair of leather boots. But tonight, on this night, he did not feel old, or tired, or run down. He felt like a young Battle Lord leading his men to victory! It had been so long since he'd been that young man; looking back on those years seemed to be another man's lifetime.

His memories were fading of many accounts of his personal history from those days, though he remembered what was important, he remembered being a soldier!

The thunder of altherin hooves rumbled in his ears like a great storm, the earth vibrating, pulsing with every hoof that stamped the soil—

A vampire launched out of the sky, aiming its crimson blade directly for his head, and in that moment, he thought he saw his life flashing before his eyes, those memories of his youth became clear, like clouded water becoming a glistening pool he could see to its depths.

A volley of crossbow bolts punched into the breastplate of the flying abomination, knocking it back as if it had been hit by a storm wind! The creature fell before his horse and was trampled under thousands of pairs of hooves.

Yes! He felt young again! He did not have the ability to read his own future—beyond what plans a Captain General can make for himself, in the approach to the greatest battles he would ever face—though he could now see his past as a grand network of visions, a pattern of the intricate chains of his succession to leadership, to this present day, when he burnt in his heart for one thing, Tairark Vampire-King's head severed from its neck!

'Charge!' he shouted. 'Take no prisoners!' He rode with his silvered sword pointed before him like a lance. Arrows began to launch into the sky from other riders behind him, that struck vampires in mid-flight, the bodies falling as he shouted, 'Glorious!'

They reached the base of the fortifications, as vampires filled the skies, swooping down to attack his men, as they leapt from their horses. Each man carried a series of ropes and pulleys, which, when combined with a large wheel crank, was designed for mass scaling of the walls of the ruins with grappling hooks. The stone slabs weren't more than eight feet high at the most on the higher sections, though the grey stone base slab was closer to fifteen.

The rest of the climb was not going to be that difficult, but with the dangers that lurked above, he'd need to get as many archers and Alit'aren up on those platforms as soon possible. This was a race for supremacy; it was fifty-fifty chances of either side's success.

Kelderath strode through the battlefield like a Lord of War, Aldebrands and soldiers massing around him as a shield, though he paid them no heed. He shouted orders, 'Archers in positions!' Hundreds of Aldebrands and soldiers wielding bows and crossbows lined up along the base of the walls with enough distance from the wall to see the enemy lurking on the platforms above. 'Shoot on sight!'

He did not need to give the order for the scaling of the walls to commence. Dozens of men were already at work throwing the grappling hooks up over the base wall, striving to latch onto any piece of the ruins that would hold support. More followed as the archers and crossbowmen began to unleash arrows to feather vampires and werewolves like pincushions.

He grinned broadly as a large black werewolf collapsed at his feet after falling from the heights, bristling with arrow feathers.

'Get up there! Move it! Get your backs into it! Advance!' he shouted at the top of his lungs. Today was no ordinary day for Jothar Kelderath—today was the day he nearly met his maker at the hands of a Nightwalker—today was the first day of his rebirth! He could now see the battle from any vantage point, foresee possible short falls at the first signs or before then. With his memories now intact—if his men could keep him alive—it was no longer fifty-fifty. It was a certified victory! 'Take no prisoners! Show no mercy! Advance!' he roared like a young lion with the soul of old boots.

***

Adem threw three punches to the right, rivers of white flames flooded from his fingertips, like a lance of light to vaporise a charging werewolf. They were running now, falling back, while pursuing Tobin and Orion and their wives, who were chasing after Talegon and Kelflax. All six immortals had already made a full circle of the landscape on the heights, passing them for a second time when the Sons of Odin had an opening to flee.

They couldn't keep up with the immortals of course—that would be like a tortoise chasing after a fox—so they allowed their Battle Angels to drag them a short distance at a time, almost melding between two places at once they moved with such speed and precision, carrying their bodies a few feet off the ground each time to avoid rocks and logs.

Two punches to the left, two massive fists of lightning surged from his knuckles, surrounding a black werewolf in a neon glow.

Two punches forward, one behind, walls of red flames launching in both directions to blast evil incarnate. He was deep in the Tar'deith now, the True Flow heightened his senses, sounds were clear and resonant, the colours more vibrant than he had ever imagined possible. He heard a bird chirping in the distance, he caught a glimpse of its red feathers as it took flight out the corner of his right eye, red like flame.

He had not gathered a drop of sweat yet either, he was becoming a true Alit'aren.

Two punches left; green lightning tore down from the sky to plummet into the form of another grey-furred beast—its howl washed over his senses like ripples on a pond—though he could not feel fear this deep in the True Flow.

Three punches, pillar of white flames, bolt of lightning, flames erupted from the earth.

Shadowhunter bit down on werewolf skulls to tear them clean off. Hounds moved to pounce on the enemy, shredding through their chests or crunching their jaws around giant black skulls. Flame Crows punched through werewolf chests as dozens of enemies collapsed all around. But there were too many of them. They appeared at every moment, howling with ravenous bloodlust.

***

Kelderath saw a great dark shape launch down onto him from the platform above ... again, he saw his life flashing before his eyes ... every moment from birth to this point in time, as vivid as if looking into a pool of imagery, lucid, transparent ... the werewolf crashed on top of him, knocking him to the ground as he plunged his sword into its throat. The beast grasped his skull with both claws ... he felt incredible neck pain, heard bone shatter and rip, flesh tear, he saw blood spatter.

Then he was on his feet, he was looking down at the rising beast, standing over some mortal on the ground, the man was decapitated. He slashed downwards with his enchanted sword that glowed pale blue white, slicing at the creature's skull. The blade slipped right through the form of the werewolf! It began to stand as he slashed again, and again, but each time his sword passed right through the creature!

He then looked at his hand, pale blue white ... his entire form was blue light! 'What magic is this?' he asked confounded. He shouted to rally his men to his aid, 'To me men! To me! To your Captain General! Take this beast apart!' The men around him kept fighting, as if none could hear his words, then a great cry from one of the soldiers sounded above his own voice, 'Kelderath is down!'

A terrible groan in unison moved through the ranks of fighting soldiers and wielders, as if each and every one of their hearts were being ripped from their chests by Tairark Vampire-King himself!

In their temporary state of despair, the men appeared to move sluggishly, allowing attacks to penetrate they should've easily deflected. One Aldebrand was punched by a black werewolf in that moment, flying through the air and right through Kelderath's very form ... it felt like nothing at all!

He looked down at the body at his feet, the decapitated man ... it was him! He was dead! And in that delayed moment of bewilderment, he suddenly realised that he was dead, but still alive!

He was a ghost!

Never before had he imagined that his mortal flesh would carry an immortal soul, like the immortals and the Great Angels and the Heroes of Will!

But it was true!

He slashed again at the werewolf, then resigned to the fact that he was not a Hero of Will however, much to his disappointment.

'That would be expecting too much, I suppose,' he said to himself, and then gave a hearty chuckle. Boy he felt revived though! His spirit was tingling with energy, a raw power that emanated through his senses. Surprisingly it seemed he was still breathing, though he knew enough to call that thought, 'Ridiculous!' How could he breathe without his lungs in his chest?

Still he felt fabulous, more alive than ever before, which added much to his state of dissatisfaction; that this was in fact the exact opposite of the truth.

He felt he could fly!

He could fly!

He was rising off the ground as the werewolf stalked away. Three crossbow bolts punched into its thick spine, black blood spurting from the wound. He slashed a final time, this time he focused harder, pushing his life force into the blade, and then with a heavy groan like some giant hound, the werewolf collapsed and gave up his precious ki'mera, filling Jothar Kelderath with further energy, darkness and light.

'Perhaps a Hero of Will after all,' he whispered in disbelief.

Crossbow bolts thudded into the beast as it fell, coming from all sides, far too late to do any good for his state of being, however.

His men had let him down.

He continued to rise off the ground, like being drawn as water from a well, not flying in fact, transcending to another realm! He looked up to see the clouds part above as a great light blossomed in the sky. 'White light!' he shouted, glorious everlasting light!

As he began to move faster—peering down a moment at the ruins below with a heavy sigh that he'd missed the end of this battle—he began to think that this was like the Son returning to the Father, like Carl Wilder's hero Jesus Christ. He wondered then, if he might meet the great Teacher and Scholar, Jesus Christ, the Saviour of Earth, when he reached this place of fire in the sky.

'The Son of God!' he whispered emphatically.

For the first moment he could remember in all his lifetime, he was more than satisfied, he was more than pleased, he was content, he was at peace, like Adem Highlander whenever he looked at Jean Fairsythe, that mask of half mad tensions in the Son of Odin melting into absolute bliss. He thought with elation that he should meet his dearly departed wife in Heaven also!

And yes!—he heard her voice calling his name!

Annabelle!

My darling wife!

Jothar smiled broadly, a weight being lifted from his shoulders after a lifetime of toil and struggle ... as he ascended ... into the Light!

***

Tobin's emerald blade moved in a blur of cutting strikes to ward off the hulking beast. He hacked at the neck of the large black-skinned-werewolf, severing its skull from its body in a spray of dark blood. A large hole in its chest was made seconds before by Lydia's bar of blue flames, enhanced in Angel-Magic by the link she held with Elmira. Orion stood a few paces off to his left, golden blade whirling and striking at the dark beast that stood before him.

A bar of white-hot fire flew from Elmira's hands to strike the beast in the skull, and in that moment, Orion hacked off its right claw and drove the blade through the creature's heart. When he withdrew the blade, he flicked it downwards to spatter dark blood onto the forest floor. The werewolf fell backwards with a hollow wail.

The four of them began to run again, each moving faster than any mortal could accomplish, the feet of the Aelfin were always swift. As more of the dark beasts gave chase—loping forwards on all fours—they increased their speed, still searching for Talegon and Kelflax. They'd circled the upper plateau a number of times already, though Orion's two bodyguards continued to evade them. Twice they'd caught sight of the pair running further downhill, though each time Tobin and Orion had been forced to battle with more werewolves and they'd lost sight of the men.

Lydia unleashed bars of liquid-blue light as they sprinted through the forest, Elmira also wielding bars of flame to blast flesh from bones as more of the dark creatures launched themselves from the thick bushes and giant leaves. There were hundreds of the beasts on this upper section, more and more revealing themselves as the chase continued, like reserve soldiers storing their energy while their victims were slowly worn down.

They had to keep running regardless of whether they thought they'd be able rescue Talegon and Kelflax. If they halted for too long, the beasts would surround them, and they would be slaughtered, or bitten and forced to carry the werewolf curse.

***

Adem was picked up by Balor and lifted a few feet off the ground. He travelled in a blur of light, like warping from one point to another. The Battle Angel set him down, Adem punched right twice, towards a charging white werewolf. Blue flames burst from the earth beneath the creature; the ground erupted spraying up boulders. The second punch unleashed a bar of red fire that launched across the ten-feet-gap to strike the beast in the skull. At the same time Carl aimed his spear at the beast's chest, a thin bar of red flames extending from the spear tip to pierce the creature's heart. On impact, the werewolf stumbled on its path, claws dragging in the dirt—it was a big one—then it howled as Carl's red flame began to implode within its flesh, until its chest burst open like a balloon to spray dark blood in all directions.

Wil quickly caught up to defend Adem's south-west corner, carried by Dis Pater who towered ten feet tall in his shadow robes, great golden axe hacking at the skulls of charging black beasts. Wil still wielded his golden bow, unleashing arrows to stun the creatures. Shadow Hounds launched onto the werewolves to tear out their throats.

Balor's giant spirit wolf, Shadowhunter, still prowled close by. He only went after the biggest werewolves that appeared, some standing taller than the wolf of blue flames, and he was ten-feet-tall at shoulder height. Balor guarded Adem's north-west flank, wielding a silver-blue double-edged battle-axe that was larger than Dis Pater's. He hacked at the werewolves who made it close enough, before finishing them off with Crimson Sun, to plant the axe blade deep in the top of their skulls.

Adem was also becoming drained, if he didn't face Tairark soon, he didn't think he would have the strength to stand a chance against the High-Servant. Three punches left, three wide arcs of blue flame flew from his fists to strike the chest of a large black beast, knocking it off balance; fire wreathed its form. Two forward punches, a tower of bright crimson launched from the sky, a river of burning emerald burst from the earth. Balor picked him up by the shoulders and they morphed through the forest. Three punches right, a bolt of silver lightning, wall of emerald fire, crimson blades erupted beneath another large grey beast. The blades split through its hide as the howling creature was blasted into a shower of burning ash.

***

Lydia threw a bar of blue fire at the skull of a charging black werewolf. It approached from the east, the direction she was running, with Talegon and Kelflax visible in the distance. The flames struck the beast, its head exploding in a shower of blue sparks and black blood. It collapsed as she ran past its body like a feather in a storm. Tobin would regret not having a hand in killing that one. If he could deal out the killing blows, his conscience would rest easier. He ran beside her, his form almost a blur, even to her immortal eyes. Everything was blurred in her vision as they ran—the jade sword of her husband, and the golden light of Orion's Tigerclaw, Elmira's bars of flame, the moonlight on the leaves and forest floor—all was a glowing haze.

She distinctly saw Kelflax turn on his heel to unleash two arrows that punched into the skull of a black werewolf. The beast stumbled; then tried to get to its feet, she sent a bar of blue flames to strike the beast in the back of the skull. It collapsed in a spray of blood. Talegon stood with his back to Kelflax, his bow raised to release three arrows that struck the chest of a larger grey-furred monster. The beast faltered for a moment then lunged forwards, Elmira unleashed a bar of crimson; knocking the beast off balance. In a blur of motion Talegon sheathed his bow and drew his golden axe from his belt loop. He charged for the fallen werewolf; bringing the blade down to shatter the creature's breastplate, cleaving into its heart.

Within moments Lydia was at their side, Tobin beside her and Orion and Elmira arriving seconds later. Their blurred forms became solid once more, and immediately Lydia and Elmira began to unleash more bars of liquid flame. The beasts charged in from all sides. Some caused skulls to explode or chests to rip open, though other blasts were less effective, and those beasts still charged towards them despite their bleeding wounds. Kelflax feathered one with arrow shafts through the chest, the creature skidding through the dirt to collapse at his feet.

Talegon moved in a blur to get behind one charging monster, striking down onto its skull with the finishing move of Crimson Sun. Dark blood spattered as the beast collapsed only a few feet from Orion's back. He stood battling a taller monster, his golden blade whipping through the air like a startled viper. Lydia and Elmira were hurling fire as Tobin battled with a stocky black skinned beast—

A howl tore the night air, answered by dozens more.

They're all around us, she thought with the first touch of fear. This was a trap, a cleverly plotted ambush that had now been sprung. Dark bodies stood from the surrounding bushes, dozens of them, with more appearing further behind. Their howls sent chills through her blood, though she struck the closest three with bolts of lightning that tore down out of the sky. Elmira did the same to the east, though more howls were sounding off, as more of the creatures stood to expose the extent of the trap. We are doomed. She threw lightning from her open palms, horizontal bolts that struck each charging beast and scorched the flesh off their bones, one; two, three down. She was certain it wouldn't be enough to save them however—

Shadow Hounds appeared in the mist, charging outwards from their circle to push werewolves to the ground; tearing through chests to devour their innards. Balor appeared to her right side, setting Adem Highlander down in his black coat and armour. Adem began to punch towards the charging werewolves, unleashing bolts of blue lightning and red bars of flame.

Math Mathonwy and Carl Wilder appeared moments after, along with Wil Martyr, carried by Dis Pater on golden wings. The red wings of Math became his crimson spear as Dis Pater's became his golden axe. Balor's spirit wolf, Shadowhunter, charged from the Battle Angel's form to bite down on a large white werewolf's neck as it pushed the beast to the forest floor—

More howls sounded all around; dark and grey-furred beasts sprang up and began to charge. Shadow Hounds split to become two dozen, fuelled by the ki'mera the Sons of Odin had gathered thus far. Flame Crows appeared in small swarms, punching through werewolf chests like black feathered bolts. Others flew higher to swoop down in a thudding ground slam that left their victims broken and bleeding.

Adem shouted, 'Arawn!' A dozen fully grown male lions appeared with golden coats and thick shaggy brown manes. The Lions charged towards the werewolves to overpower them with jaws and claws like razor sharp steel. Arawn appeared as a figure of looming shadows, his sword of red flames slicing a black werewolf in half; then decapitating another. Ki'mera flowed to the Sons of Odin as Adem shouted, 'Llew Llaw Gyffes!'

***

The twelve feet tall figure of blue light with golden scaled armour appeared beside Adem, and in that moment his vision became blurred, his surroundings tilting and swirling as Llew's teleport ability took effect. Adem had decided there was no hope in making a stand here. He would strike at Tairark in his lair while the vampire swarms were distracted.

He could sense Tairark within the ruins, wielding a vast amount of Jinn-Magic, perhaps to draw Adem to him as another part of this trap, though Adem knew the High-Servant would be using that power to slaughter his soldiers that made it inside Morgrahl Kordahn.

Light flared around them; they shifted from the upper plateau to appear within the dark hallways of the tomb. He'd set them down close to Tairark's position, though in the next room according to the map, and red light flared in the doorways beyond. The screams of men and the scent of burnt flesh battered his senses.

When Adem stood on a ledge where he could peer through one of the gothic style windows of carved stone, he looked into the next chamber to see a scene of horrors. Hundreds of soldiers, as well as Aldebrands and Alit'aren, were scattered about the room of twisting staircases. Vampires swooped through the air, biting at necks or tearing open chests with their superior strength.

Above the battle—and his men were fighting for their lives with swords and spears—Tairark hovered as a dark shadow wielding his blade of red fire. Each time the masked figure gestured towards the soldiers and warriors with his right palm facing outwards, red flame launched from his fingers to strike a cluster of men; screaming in agony as flesh melted off their bones.

As the High-Servant raised his hand to gesture again Adem whispered, 'Arawn!' The Battle Angel appeared mid-air to strike at the High-Servant with his crimson blade. Arawn flew on wings of shadow flame, outstretched like a great black eagle. His sword clashed with Tairark's shield in a spray of burning red. Then the High-Servant vanished, as Arawn sent the location to Adem's mind. Adem whispered, 'Llew Llaw Gyffes!'

As his Battle Angel appeared in the dark chamber, Adem immediately began to teleport his party to Tairark's lair. 'Be ready!' he shouted. A flare of blue light landed them in a room shaped like a giant bell with a domed ceiling. Small carved out shrines were littered around the bell-shaped walls, crimson fires burning within like small shrines. Tairark's coffin was a large slab of stone that had a metallic shine with symbols on the surface that glowed bright scarlet. Londrak's map had been accurate about that much at least.

Tairark hovered towards the peak of the dome, locked in a swordfight with Arawn.

Carl shouted, 'Math Mathonwy!' as Wil shouted 'Eledisren!'

The golden armoured figure of Math appeared in the air wielding his spear of red flames, as Dis Pater's shadow form arose, wielding the axe of golden light—

The air around Tairark began to warp, a familiar sign of those doorways through space. Suddenly two more black robed figures floated in the air, on either side of the High-Servant. Adem couldn't make out their signature masks to identify them, though they were certainly two more of the Hex-Warlords! The High-Servants gestured with ruby light flaring in their right palms, fire lanced down towards Adem and his friends—

Light exploded outwards like a red spider-web as the attacks battered against blue, gold and red Shield-Spells, created by the Sons of Odin, Lydia and Elmira, and even some smaller ones by Tobin and Orion, all reacting by instinct to deflect the surprise tactic.

Vampires flew into the cavern from a large gothic doorway. 'Hold them off!' Adem shouted to Wil, who responded by shouting, 'Bran!'

Bran appeared as a nimbus of blue light, charging for the opening to hack vampire bodies into halves; dark blood flowed as skulls and limbs splattered in all directions. Wil fired flame arrows at the doorway, knocking more out of the air; turning flesh to skeletons of burning gold. The three High-Servants still hurled bars of red fire, striking at the Shield-Spells created by Adem and his company. If this continued, their Shield-Magic wouldn't last.

Adem shouted, 'Balor! Llew Llaw Gyffes!' as Carl shouted, 'Angus!'

Angus hovered close to the ground, adding strength to their shields. Balor and Llew soared into the air to do battle with the High-Servants. Flares of light, sparks and colours whirled in the air; hovering shadows and figures of flame. The Battle Angels and their weapons moved in blurring arcs as the High-Servants deflected each attack with swords or shields of red fire. Magic began to surround the Hex-Warlords as a ki'mera halo, Pixie Wardens, Flame Crows and Burning Hawks battered at the enemy shields like a firework's display.

Adem brought lightning bolts from the air to strike at the three High-Servants. Carl raised his spear to unleash streams of thin red fire at the shields of the Hex-Warlords. Aqua and crimson bolts surrounded the ki'mera swarm like crushing claws of flame, and for a moment, Adem thought their plan might succeed.

Vampires began to fill the chamber, drawing the attacks of Adem and Carl away from their main target. Claws of fire reached for flying men to vaporize their forms, ashes and bone-dust floated like glowing crystal. Hawks, Crows and Pixies broke away from the High-Servants to punch through vampire chests in bright flares; blood sealed into the wounds gaping like cannon holes. Skulls exploded on impact, limbs falling as torn debris. They were making of mess of them, but it would only take one vampire bite to obliterate the strength of this united force. If any of his companions were to fall victim, he would never forgive himself.

Chapter 15

To Escape Defeat

Jean sat alone in her room. Hayley and Terese had left her to think on her feelings for Adem, in light of his bravery revealed through the kigare. She was still mad at him, though that anger melted away when she sensed the passion with which he fought, facing creatures that inspired a deep fear in his heart. However, that fear was barely detectable as he was so focused on his task. She was considering what their next meeting might entail, when she heard a knock at the door, followed by the sweet call of Verielle, asking, 'May I enter, Jean Fairsythe?' Her door was always guarded, though the guards knew to allow Verielle to enter whenever she wished.

'Enter, please, Verielle,' Jean replied. She wiped fresh tears from her cheeks. The golden-haired woman entered the room, gliding across the tiled floor in a ruby coloured silk gown, with a low cut, exposing ample bosom. No jewellery adorned her this evening, though she carried a small silver box, that she held open, when she sat beside Jean on the bed sheets.

'This is a gift of friendship, Jean. It means we shall always be connected. Will you accept?'

***

Adem felt his Battle Angels tiring from exertion, soon their ki'mera reserves would be depleted. The battle with the werewolves had drained them more than they'd planned for. Alit'aren and Aldebrands began to pour into the chamber through the doorway that Wil and Bran still guarded. Londrak was amongst them, his face slick with sweat. He wore black with blue armour, his sword glowing aqua. 'Kelderath is down!' Londrak shouted.

Adem, Carl and Wil groaned in unison. This was the worst possible eventuality so far. They'd lost their Captain General, and with him their hope of victory was washed aside. That explained why the men seemed to be fighting desperately, without discipline, no orderly plan of attack to drive their focus. Soon this battle would become a slaughterhouse; they would have to sound the retreat.

Arawn sent to Adem; I must rest, Son of Odin. Then, as his Battle Angel returned to Adem's sword in a flare of red light, Tairark was unopposed for a moment, and his laughter filled the cavern in a deep booming echo before he threw his sword. The burning blade pierced Londrak's toramor armour to skewer him. The man fell, and as Adem ran to his side he heard Tairark shout, 'You have served your purpose, puppet!' Adem was torn with outrage, Londrak had tricked them! But perhaps he'd been manipulated with powers of the mind; the term puppet gave him pause for thought. Londrak heaved for breath as dark veins began to creep across his face.

For the first time, Adem thought he was seeing the real mind of the man, as if a fog had lifted from his eyes, to reveal the gaze of a warrior, without fear or thoughts of betrayal. Londrak extended his right hand, and Adem took it, to lean in close to the man as he whispered, 'Forgive me. Save my wife.' He coughed up a thick spurt of blood, then his eyes became glazed and his breathing ended.

This had occurred in brief moments that the Shield-Spells were maintained by Adem's companions. The Battle Angels had distracted the three High-Servants, as Tairark fought with fists of flame to deflect Balor's glowing blue axe blades.

His wife! Adem thought in terror. Oh, God, Jean! Oh, no!

***

Jean was overwhelmed with appreciation at the gesture; she smiled warmly as she picked up the golden bracelet and fastened it to her wrist. It was the shape of a slender dragon with a small ruby for the eye. She held it up to the lantern light to admire the shine. 'It's lovely, Verielle. I shall cherish it always.' Verielle smiled, though for the first time she could remember, Jean saw mischief behind those blue eyes, the look of a calculating criminal. Caution struck Jean, then a surge of panic!

She began to feel drowsy, like she hadn't slept in a month, and the strain of that lack of rest had built in her soul till she felt that she might sleep for eternity.

Why had she accepted the gift without sensing for enchantments first?

Had this woman put her under some kind of spell, to make her easy to manipulate? Yes! Suddenly, Jean was certain that was exactly why she'd learnt to trust this woman so much during their time together. 'Who are you?' Jean asked, though her voice came as a slow drawl. Her vision became blurred, she tried to reach for Angel-Magic, but it slipped from her grasp. She fell to the floor, everything became dark.

***

Adem shouted, 'Retreat!' They moved backwards through the chambers of Morgrahl Kordahn. 'Fall back! Sound the retreat!' His voice was enhanced by Angel-Magic, and they'd teleported from Tairark's chamber to the rooms where most of the soldiers still fought. They stood now in a large rectangular chamber, lined with coffins that lay open, hundreds of them, and vampires clung to the walls and ceiling, fangs bared with jet-black eyes.

Tobin and Orion protected their wives. The Ael Tarael unleashed bars of blue flame that struck vampires to create explosions of flesh and hot blood. Adem wielded his sword; sending sheets of teron through the blade. Lightning launched from the sword; setting multiple targets alight. Vampires were burnt to dark husks that pulsed with glowing bolts.

Carl held his spear like a rifle, shooting scarlet beams that burnt holes through the chests and skulls of his enemies, rupturing flesh; they fell as skeletons of flame. Wil continued to use his bow; blasting vampire flesh into golden pillars of ash. Adem hoped that Wil now realised he would never have survived this if he'd made the attempt on his own. To escape defeat, they'd need to make a hasty exit.

What troubled Adem more was his sense of Jean, she'd become anxious, panic was more the word. Then, she'd apparently passed out, fainted he first thought, though now he sensed she'd gone into a deep sleep. The sleep wasn't normal. Something had happened to her. I have to get to her!

Tairark and the other High-Servants appeared; hovering in the air after space shimmered and warped. They struck at Adem and his friends with garnet lightning, striking their Shield-Magic that could barely deflect the attacks. His one hope lay in the fact that they'd also timed the attack for just such eventualities. The sun was about to rise.

***

Terese slapped Jean's face, harder than the first time. 'Wake up, Jean! Wake up!' Her state of panic was becoming overwhelming. Hayley had rushed to find an Ael Tarael to assess the damage. Terese knew there was foul play involved here. When she'd left Jean alone only a half hour before, she was fine! Now her skin was deathly pale, her heartbeat slow, and most disturbing was the fact that she could not be roused from this deep sleep!

She had sent guards to arrest Elviara, and that viper Verielle! The guards at Jean's door had informed her they'd allowed Verielle to enter, then moments after the woman left, they'd peered in the room to find Jean on the floor! She was grateful for one thing; Jean was not harmed in any other way than this apparent sleeping spell. The bracelet had been removed with precise care, to avoid touching the metal that was most likely dipped in some kind of poison. It lay beside Terese as she knelt beside the bed, holding Jean now in a tight embrace. 'I'm sorry, Jean. I'm so sorry,' she began to sob with grief; then her rage began to boil.

Curse those treacherous witches!

The fact that Jean had been kept alive suggested this was a trap aimed at Adem. This would draw him back to her as soon as he was able. That gave her some hope, there had to be a cure. That would lead Adem right into the trap that was set by whoever Verielle really was. Well, if that was the case, Adem would march right into that trap and walk right out again with the necessary cure. If not, she would cut him in half!

***

Adem carved a path through the masses of vampires that tried to block his escape. With his blade he unleashed walls of blue flame; left hand hurling blue lightning to blast holes through their chests and skulls. Burning bodies collapsed around him, as he and his friends formed an escape route. Underground, the structure was a myriad of stone chambers with a maze of stairways and infinite doorways, leading off to more caves for coffins. The vampires were becoming thick as flies in the shade on a hot summer day, as the rising sun was forcing them back within the structure. Soldiers, Aldebrands, and Alit'aren still charged through the outer doorways to aid them in the battle, but Adem urged them to escape, shouting; 'Retreat! Sound the retreat!'

Every so often Tairark and the other two High-Servants would appear in a warp of air, to cast lightning at Adem and his companions. A number of times Adem, Carl and Wil had linked to try to overpower their attacks, and they'd hammered the High-Servants with Elemental Magic, though the Shield-Spells of the Hex-Warlords always prevailed before they made a swift exit.

Adem was still linked with Carl and Wil now, Angel-Magic filling him with excruciating amounts of Odin's Light, with the Shadow corrupting that source like maggots in his flesh. He punched towards five vampires armed with enchanted weapons, flesh burst into a scarlet conflagration, collapsing as they screamed. He gripped the sword hilt with two hands and swept the blade horizontal before him; blazing aqua fanned out in sheets, reducing two-dozen Nightwalkers to burning bones and glowing ashes.

Jean was still unconscious, her dreams tormented, as if she was touched by the Shadow. Betrayal! It had to be the work of Elviara! He would have vengeance for this treachery, though the memory of Londrak's dying wish made him consider his methods with some sympathy. Those two were seemingly just pawns in a much more complex scheme.

Still, if that woman was responsible in any way, and Jean did not survive this, he would become the sword of justice!

***

'It is an evil spell,' Lauren said, in a disgusted tone. 'It is an enchantment that coats the object in a kind of poison, though it is not of this world.'

'Then how do we cure her?' Terese snapped.

'There is only one place where a cure can be found,' Lauren said. 'They are the Stairs of Odin. To visit that place is dangerous to say the least.'

'We need the cure, woman!' Terese shouted. 'Get to the point!'

'The Leaf Aldebrands reside there. They will have the cure. Though there are rules. Only three may enter, and the Stairs of Odin have not been seen for centuries. The last three to enter never returned. That is often the case.'

'That would be the trap, then.' Terese said. 'Whoever Verielle really is, or whoever she is working for, will be waiting within that world to try to destroy Adem, Carl and Wil. I don't like it, but Jean's life is at stake! They will have to try!'

She then sent orders for messengers to head south to summon the Sons of Odin back to the Borderlands. It was a pointless exercise, Adem would know of this through his sense of Jean, as well as messages sent from Tanriel to Adem's Battle Angels. He would surely arrive as soon as he could assure the safety of his forces, via this teleport capacity Tanriel had mentioned to Jean. Well, Terese would be waiting for him.

***

The sun was rising! It seemed wiser to attack during the daylight in the original plan. The new tactic had been to enter at night, slaughter as many vampires possible, then wait for the rising sun to aid their escape.

Werewolves changed back to human form with the rising sun, and they were weakened at this time due to the transformation. Along the grey stone slabs of the structure, mortal and immortal warriors slew a path through the chaos; half naked men fleeing in terror. Their memories of the night before would be blurred—a part of the werewolf curse— which added to their disoriented attempts to defend the ruins. Some picked up bows or swords to fight back, but for the most part it was becoming a victorious escape for Adem's forces. They'd greatly depleted Tairark's vampire stock and must have slain nearly a hundred werewolves during the entire battle. It was a victory, but they'd been lured into this trap from the day they set out on the mission.

He feared Jean's plight was another design of the High-Servants. Arawn had explained that Tanriel knew of a cure for Jean, it focused on finding the Stairs of Odin. So, Adem had found his just cause. To save Jean was the ultimate cause he could ever commit to, his concern for her now burnt through his senses like a rising tide of lava. He would need to accept Healing-Magic from Lydia as soon as they found a chance to rest the horses. That would depend on whether Tairark decided to pursue. The High-Servants would also be drained from the fighting, and Adem's Battle Angels all had a chance to recover. They'd obtained enough ki'mera in the battle to form a considerable defence in further attacks, though he prayed that the High-Servants would retire to lick their wounds.

Hundreds of warriors were making their way down the walls of the structure on their crank and pulley ropes secured by grappling hooks. Adem and his companions remained on the lowest wall until the last defenders had gathered, and then he teleported those last sixty or more men, plus his companions to the horses below. There would be plenty of horses left behind, though those that were able grasped the reins of two or three more to lead them to safety. They'd suffered heavy casualties in this fight, nearly half their forces were depleted, mostly the first wave of riders that arrived on altherin horses. The second wave had mostly been occupied with defending the walls, with archers and men scaling the walls to battle with werewolves, as well as the hundreds of vampires that launched down from the night sky.

In a way it had been a defeat for both sides. It had been a bold move to try to attack Tairark in his lair. In hindsight he should have realised he was leading so many to their deaths. He tried to tell himself it was a necessary sacrifice, though his chest ached from the pain of guilt and sorrow. What had they really accomplished? He asked himself this as they mounted and began to gallop north.

Bodies of men bitten by vampires—or the larger more savage and infectious bites of werewolves—lay strewn along the fields as they made their escape. There were hundreds of them, and more within the ruins. So many that he realised Tairark's forces would recover in three days, when the curse took over these unfortunate souls. The sun was a bright golden ball above the horizon now, its warmth unnatural for early winter, the sky blood red. They would need to learn the source of this plague on the weather soon, or the entire world would start to cook in their own skins.

***

Elviara screamed and wailed, 'I don't know the answer!'

'You say you've known Verielle since your Seidr days?' Terese asked. 'And yet you don't know her true identity or who she answers to?'

'There are ... restrictions!' That last word seemed a struggle for her, as if she had trouble explaining the truth. Some power over her mind. She assumed this Verielle had used similar spells on Jean's mind, hiding her ability to wield Angel-Magic at the same time. It suggested she was someone very powerful, someone high up in the Shadow's chain of command. 'Was your husband working under Verielle also?'

'He ... answers ... to another,' Elviara croaked in the same excruciating way, as if the words gave her physical pain. 'We ... cannot share ... secrets!'

That made sense to Terese, the Shadow made efforts to conceal their tools from any who might suspect, so it was likely Londrak and Elviara were controlled by two separate puppet masters. The High-Servants were likely at the head of this control, though Verielle was most likely one of the Hex-Keepers who served under them, mortals who had joined the Shadow in sacrifice of their souls. That meant the woman had also worn a disguise of the flesh, and still no Ael Tarael had sensed her ability to wield Angel-Magic. It had to be one of those women, Fearen, Calliestra, Nodomi, she reeled the list of names off in her mind.

The woman had fled the castle moments after she left Jean's room. No one saw her leave the castle and no guards reported seeing her leave the city. If she were a smaller pawn in the game, it meant she might still be hiding in the city somewhere, after leaving the castle in another disguise. Though Terese was certain the woman was a Dark General, which meant she'd probably been able to teleport by means similar to the High-Servants.

'I want to know about the trap!' Terese commanded. 'The Stairs of Odin; that is where they plan to strike, yes?'

'I don't know!' Elviara wailed. 'My information is very limited.' Tears stained the woman's cheeks, her eyes red and puffy. She looked like a lost kitten under Terese's glare.

'You're nothing more than a feeble puppet then,' Terese said. 'Still, further interrogation should gain us some advantage. Lock her in chains!' she shouted to the guards in red coats who stood beside the woman. 'See if a few days in the dungeons will loosen her tongue!'

Chapter 16

Odin Quest

Adem stood over Jean as she lay sleeping. She lay on the sheets, as the heat would have made her slumber less comfortable. He brushed a hand over her brow, as tension built on his own. Why had he left her? It was his fault!

Terese stood nearby tapping her foot with arms crossed under her breasts. Carl, Wil and Hayley stood by the bed also, after Carl had performed the Seeking to attempt to discover a cure for her illness. Her skin was so pale! She looked close to death! Though her breathing was steady, that settled his nerves to a degree. He sensed her troubled dreams; it was as if every moment she slept was an ongoing nightmare.

They'd teleported to Korhad the moment they crossed the southern divide and entered the Free Lands, leaving his army to travel to Calicos without further protection. The High-Servants hadn't appeared again, once they started to cross through the mountain paths—which was fortunate, as they would have made a nasty mess of his forces while squeezing through such narrow passes.

Tobin, Orion, Lydia and Elmira were also brought to Korhad—they also stood silently in the large bedchamber, along with Arig Flame-Bow. The former ghost had suffered some minor wounds as a result of werewolf scratches; fortunately, it was only their bite that could not be healed. Lydia had seen to that Healing once they were within the mountain pass. And just in time too, Arig had been pale and weary enough to fall out of the saddle. Other men died of similar wounds before they made it to safety. So many lives lost.

But his concern for Jean overwhelmed that grief, a surging rage was building inside of him. He also felt despair, and a great pain at the potential loss of the love of his life.

'You know what must be done!' Terese snapped. 'I don't care if you die trying, Adem Highlander, you'll find Odin's Stairs and bring me that cure!' Adem sighed and bowed his head, and then he turned to face the woman with watery vision. A moment later he steeled his nerves, straightened his spine with shoulders back.

'Yes, I suppose you're right, Terese,' he said. 'We must leave immediately,' he told his companions, and they turned and began to exit the room.

'You're not going without me this time, husband!' Hayley said in a warning tone.

'If you wish it, my love,' Wil replied, after a deep sigh. 'I will not try to stop you.'

'I do this for Jean,' Hayley replied. 'I will help you find the cure.'

'You shall have to stand under heavy guard while we enter the portal,' Wil said, as if realising this for the first time. 'Arig, Terese, you are chosen for this task.'

'I can't leave Jean unguarded!' Terese shouted in outrage.

'Very well,' Wil said. 'I'll need a dozen Ael Tarael and twice as many Aldebrands to watch her while I'm away.'

'You have my word, Wil Martyr,' Arig said.

'So then, go!' Terese demanded, her temper simply fuming.

***

Carl sat in the blue leather saddle of his brown altherin colt, his spear of red gold retracted and hanging in his belt loop, with his crimson bow hanging in its case over his back. He wore crimson toramor armour, black coat and trousers with brown leather boots. Adem and Wil were dressed similarly; Wil in his golden breastplate and Adem's was dark blue. Adem rode his black altherin stallion and Wil rode the brown colt he'd adopted when they first arrived in Kismeria. The horses they rode in the Southlands were left with the army that headed for Calicos, and Carl preferred this horse to any other. They shared a bond, since the horse had first rescued him from the East Lands.

Orion and Tobin sat their dark mounts with their wives at their side on white mares. The two Alit'aren Aldebrands wore dark coats and trousers, brown boots and black armour, Orion's breastplate embossed with golden tigers, Tobin's with crimson lions. Lydia and Elmira both wore pale blue silk dresses cut for riding, Lydia in a soft white woollen cloak, Elmira's dark blue.

They were assembled on the fields surrounding the Borderland kingdom, the grass brown and yellow from the drying heat. Few flowers were visible, even the weeds seemed to be waning.

Surrounding them were a thousand Aldebrands, most of them from Prince Lune's forces, and the Prince also rode beside his mother in a deep green coat and emerald armour. Ten thousand soldiers surrounded that inner circle, along with one hundred Ael Tarael in bright silks and colourful cloaks, and two hundred Alit'aren in dark coats and trousers or the ghoda'sidhe. It was a small force for the Borderlands. If they were attacked by a horde of demons passing through the mountains, they would be hard pressed to defend. But their armies were becoming divided, spread across the Free Lands, and Korhad needed to retain a suitable guard, made up of more than double the forces gathered on the fields.

They moved at a slow trot, to keep the horses fresh, the front lines were heavy cavalry for making a charge, with lances tipped with two feet of steel. Behind them were light cavalry. They were there for making second sweeps through the charge to avoid being surrounded by a larger force. With the death of Kelderath, Carl took the responsibility to lead. His knowledge of war was becoming legendary amongst the soldiers and other warriors. He would've preferred to keep that a secret, though if you had gifts, you should use them.

He glanced sideways to regard Adem's expression; he looked tense, his brow furrowed, and his face slightly flushed as if his anger was building. Adem would need to learn to control that temper if he wished to remain sane. Rage was fuel for his illness, finding a state of calm was the way to cleanse it.

It seemed most likely that they marched right into another trap, though Jean's life was at stake. Jean was the bait, and they were being reeled in like trout on a hook. Well, he would be ready this time. He knew many things that could aid him against another attack, even if it were only Adem, Wil and him, to stand alone against such foes.

Only three may enter ... yes, there had to be a trap waiting for them on the other side of that portal. Though, the Heart of Odin also lay within that alternate world, enterable only via the Stairs of Odin. If they could obtain this Heart, before the enemy gained too much of an advantage, the tables could turn in his favour.

After an hour of slow moving they headed northeast, moving towards the great mountain ranges of the Green Border. The massive peaks began to block out the sky as they moved further eastward. The mountains had some forestry on this side of the border, though the higher peaks were bare stone like black ash, most capped with white snow, though that was dwindling. The sky was a dark fog also, carried on winds from Kerak'Otozi's eruptions of smoke and flame. If those black clouds began to cover the Free Lands, the demons would be able to invade.

'How long do you think it will take?' he asked Adem.

'Don't know, Carl,' Adem said. 'The need of the mission drives me forward. I can sense we are on the right path, though whether we are heading in the right direction is a mystery.'

'If it really is a trap,' Carl said, 'then perhaps the Stairs will appear by means controlled by our enemies, the ones who set the bait.'

'If that is the case we needn't worry then.'

'Well, it's just a theory, there is a chance we could be wandering out here until the world sizzles like a lamb roast.' That brought startled grunts and murmurs from nearby Alit'aren and Aldebrands. No one enjoyed being reminded just how little time remained.

'We will find the Stairs,' Adem said, 'then Odin's Heart, and then we'll cure Jean and kick some demons into the dirt!'

'I like the sound of that,' Carl replied. 'I hope you're right.'

***

Calliestra watched the forces led by the Sons of Odin, as they moved northeast from the city of Korhad. She watched from a room of dark panelled walls and red marble floors—the room was real, and yet not real at all—in a place that existed between worlds, between night and day, darkness and light. She saw their forces through a hole in the air, like a mirror that reflected whatever she wished to see, real or imagined. It was a trick known only by a few of her kind, salvaged from ancient texts of the Five Powers and the wonders that were performed in ancient days. Over time these miraculous Angel-Spells were lost even to the memories of the Great Angels, and so they were lost to mankind. This was a point of leverage for Calliestra, a way in which the eternal battle was tipped in her favour. She poured over the ancient texts to decipher the rarest gems of ancient magic, to aid her in her struggle against the Free Lands. The view was obtained from the eyes of a spying raven—

A warp of air shimmered across the room and Kelveroth appeared—cloaked in shadows with his silvered mask in the shape of a long-fanged demon. His pet black panther also entered the room, its black eyes burning gold for a moment as the same light flared in the eyes of its master. 'You are late,' Calliestra said. 'Where have you been?'

'It does not concern you,' Kelveroth replied, his tone like soft thunder. 'What of the girl?'

'She accepted the gift. She sleeps now, and her lover sets out on his Odin quest.'

'You are confident in your ability to bargain with the Kjia'hyenti?'

'We have a long-standing negotiation in place,' Calliestra replied with a grin. 'Your responsibility will be to summon a challenge to distract the Sons of Odin. What do you know of the creatures of that world?'

'I will set a challenge for the Sons that will inspire terror,' Kelveroth said. 'You concentrate on finding the Heart. The Sons must not obtain it.'

'That is something the Kjia'hyenti are unwilling to give up,' Calliestra said with a vexed sigh.

'We will have to find it then,' Kelveroth murmured. The air began to warp around the two of them, drawing in their flesh like a swarming school of brightly coloured fish; transparent light and shadows. Calliestra held her breath, and the world around her began to shift.

***

Carl swiped his spear in a line—red flames spouting from the blade in a thin wave—as dozens of Rahkwel burst like sacks of grain. Adem rode at his right flank and Wil to his left; it was tight work fighting your way out of enemy lines after making a charge, even with heavy cavalry. They were forced to join the charge to give some inspiration to the soldiers, who were taken by surprise when thousands of the goblin creatures stormed out of a mountain pass known as Hordrin's Corridor. It was wide enough for hundreds of the creatures to flow from the pass in a line, with the bulk of their forces pushing forward with spears and pikes. That made for deadly circumstances when leading the charge, though Adem, Carl and Wil had linked to unleash massive spears of flame to soften their ranks.

There were some Nymloc amongst their masses also, scattered and without armour, though they were more dangerous than tigers when pressed in close combat. Men screamed as they were pulled from their horses, goblin spears punching through armour and breastplates.

There were two more passes north and south of this one, and while they were holding back the first wave of Rahkwel with Angel-Magic, thousands more demons poured from the other two unguarded passes. They were being penned in like goats. This was the work of the High-Servants, or one of them at least.

As the outer defences took the brunt of the attacks from the north and south, Carl saw that there were thousands of Nymloc amongst those ranks, and hundreds of Jacoulra were also lumbering forward with their bull shaped snouts and curved black horns. Some of those creatures were ten feet tall, muscular dark-skinned beasts with massive claws.

A second wave of light cavalry swept along the flanks, breaking up the enemy lines and giving them a chance to fall back before they were surrounded. Ael Tarael and archers hammered the Rahkwel that tried to give chase—and the goblins were fast runners—balls of coloured flames falling like boulders and arrows covering the sky like black fire. The Ael Tarael were guarded by Alit'aren shields and Aldebrands wielding swords or axes, though Carl's forces arrived just in time to save them from being overrun by the southern attack. Horse lines surrounded the wielders and lowered lances for another charge.

But the Rahkwel and Nymloc were too close! Hundreds of crossbowmen fired bolts that punched through goblin armour and dark scaled flesh. Hundreds of demons fell; thousands more of them charged forward. Carl aimed his spear at the attackers—they were less than twenty paces off now—and with the link he was able to harness enough of Angel-Magic to unleash something he'd been working on.

A line of red fire, thick as his wrist, exploded outwards from the spearhead; then the fire split off into thirty lines from the same point, like a massive prism of light. The fire struck the nearest charging demons, then split off again, a dozen lines of fire sprouting from the holes torn in the chests of the front lines. As the lines stuck more demons behind those lines, it split again, six times out of every target. Demons dropped like apples falling off a cart, yet still thousands more charged.

Adem shouted, 'Arawn!' as Carl shouted, 'Math Mathonwy!'

Wil cried, 'Eledisren!' at the same moment that dozens of Shadow Hounds and Fire Lions became flesh; charging forward to strip flesh from the enemy. Hundreds of Flame Crows appeared in the air; swooping down in sharp-ended fists to blast demons to blood and ashes. Fire burst from Lions, Crows and Hounds, then side-winding bolts of blue lightning.

Hayley cried, 'Druantia!' Hundreds of vines began to reach up out of the ground, coiling around the demons like pythons, pulling them into the earth. Carl thought that last trick might have saved them, as the other spirit wardens had not been enough to hold back such numbers. Arawn, Math and Dis Pater charged forward, weapons of fire hacking through demon skulls and torsos, black blood flying—

Horns, to the north! They were Rahkwel horns; then dozens more to the south.

Another trap! This is not a good day!

Chapter 17

Shadow Swarm

Adem swung his blade, slicing through the skull of a Nymloc with blazing red eyes. That was one of the few that had made it through the first lines of defence. Adem, Carl and Wil weren't risking themselves in further charges. Mostly they sat in the saddle, the three of them linked, as they released waves of fire and lightning. A half dozen of Adem's Jade Warriors were also carving a path through the demon masses. The twelve-feet-tall samurai of green flames spun their burning blades to hack flesh and bone into foul smoking chunks.

Arawn, Dis Pater and Math Mathonwy slew a path through the demons with their massive weapons, the ten-feet-tall dark cloaks of Arawn and Dis Pater, and the eight-feet-tall red-caped form of Math were seen wherever black blood spurted in dark waves. Shadow Hounds, Fire Lions and Flame Crows joined the battle; focused on holding back the flow of thousands of Rahkwel and Nymloc that surged out of Hordrin's Corridor. Hounds and Lions formed a perimeter where demon flesh was devoured and shredded into smoking ash. Crows punched through enemy chests like dark bolts; demon flesh bursting into bright flame.

There were thousands of demons on all three sides of the battle now, east from the Corridor, as well as attacks pressing from the north and south. The west was closed off by hundreds of Jacoulra and several thousand Nymloc early on; they barred the path through another smaller series of mountain ranges that was too steep on both sides to attempt a safe retreat. This was the work of a cleverly devised trap, focused on this point exactly. Further charges may break up the enemy lines enough to attempt to flee this battle, though that would also allow this demon invasion to move west across the Free Lands.

Ael Tarael unleashed bars of liquid flame from their fingertips, and balls of flame the size of boulders fell from the sky to plummet into the demon ranks. The three male Battle Angels continued to hack and slash with their enchanted weapons in a blood-frenzy. Druantia hovered in the air above Hayley—Wil's wife was well guarded by Arig and a dozen Aldebrands, as well as Alit'aren and Ael Tarael—the female Battle Angel gestured as shoots of plants and vines burst from the earth to wrap around demon flesh, pulling them into the earth to devour them between grating chunks of stone like giant teeth. Adem gestured and red flames burst from the earth to tear demons apart, limbs and skulls flying in sprays of dark blood—

A great light split in the clouds above them, and Adem heard angelic female voices singing. He realised it was the Ael Tarael who were singing, and then the Alit'aren joined in, their deep masculine chants adding a darkness to the female voices. The light from the sky spread in an arc across the dry earth, and the Rahkwel shielded their eyes as the Nymloc and Jacoulra within the beams of light began to explode. Not all of the demons fell under that light however, though they held their positions as if wary of the light that fell from the sky like slanted crystal towers.

Then it appeared, forcing a wedge between Adem's forces, formed of dark stone that looked slick like wet metal, a series of stairs rising up the centre of the structure that fell over thirty feet at the peak. Adem looked up at those high dark walls and the staircase that twisted down towards them at the base. It was the Stairs of Odin!

He pushed his horse through the soldiers towards the base of the Stairs. Wil and Carl were close behind him, with Hayley and Arig, Orion, Elmira, Tobin and Lydia also following. They climbed from their saddles and began to ascend the stairway, with a dozen Aldebrands, half as many Ael Tarael and four Alit'aren who would serve as Hayley's guard while the Sons entered the portal.

The stairs looked made for larger feet when Adem first approached them, though as he ran upwards, each step lowered itself to accept his feet. At the top of the steps, the stone levelled out and ran over thirty feet in a line that was over fifteen feet wide, to reach a square structure of the same dark metallic stone. Within the square a blue fire surged. It was a shield of flames that swirled inwards to stretch off into infinity. The tunnel of light was surely the portal. Bolts of blue lightning occasionally flared within that square tunnel, and the fire changed to clouds, then water, then fire again.

Orion was suddenly at his side, saying, 'Only three may enter. You will need your Brothers in there if it is a trap.' He had to half shout over the sounds of battle and the singing voices that seemed to resonate from the portal itself. 'I would join you if I could, though I must stay to protect my wife. Your Battle Angels are your best hope of victory in there. But remember this; do not challenge the Leaf Aldebrands. Just ask for the cure. They should offer you this without argument, but they will not willingly give up the Heart of Odin. If they refuse, you will have to find it. That other world has many dangers. Be wary, Son of Odin.'

'We cannot leave you here to die,' Adem replied.

'Time is faster there,' Orion said, 'we will hold out long enough for your return. Do not stay too long, however, or we will surely perish. Go, now.' Orion pushed Adem towards the portal. He looked to the field where Arawn cut through demon skulls with his massive crimson blade, summoning the Battle Angel back to his Resting Point. His army was pressed in around the Stairs now, with the demon forces closing in around them as their defences began to break. As Arawn returned to Adem's sword hilt, he leapt for the wall of blue fire ... blue clouds ... blue water ... blue sky ... he fell ... forever he fell through endless blue skies ... he was submerged in water ... endless blue depths surrounded him ... he danced in a field of lightning ... a thousand bolts fell with each step he took ... he stood on the other side of the portal, it was oval on this side, the same dark metallic stone, green fire within, then green skies, green water.

He stood waiting for Carl and Wil, as he gazed at the city that lay before him, the strangest structure he'd ever seen or even imagined. The towers were sometimes crystal, like great claws reaching for the sky, crimson, golden, emerald or aqua crystal shards like layers of massive curved blades pressed together in formation. Other parts of the city appeared older, made of blue stone that shimmered with light. Moss, vines and even small flowers, plants and trees were growing on the hundreds of windowsills, balconies and rooftops. Other buildings appeared to be made of pure gold. Those towers and palace walls were rectangular slabs, formed of rectangular stone, some slapped together at strange angles and with layers jutting out the sides like some intricate puzzle.

There was a massive path of crimson marble tiles that also emanated an unnatural light, stretching off into the heart of the city where the tiles became blue light, surrounding a massive statue of what appeared to be one of Druantia's Green Men. The figure was formed of shining blue stone, holding aloft an open palm where a green fire hovered in the air, seemingly in the shape of a giant leaf. The sky was even stranger; three silvered moons, in a purple sky with pink clouds, and no sun, although the land was bright as noon on a summer day.

He wasn't sure how long he crouched there waiting for his friends, he understood the moments they delayed could seem like hours here, and indeed, he began to think he might have been waiting that long when Carl finally appeared at his side, approaching without a sound, his spear of red flames held like a walking staff as he too gazed at the city in the distance. A dome of pale green light also shimmered on the horizon and could be seen overhead when looking at the sky. It appeared to be some sort of barrier in which this dimension was preserved. Whatever lay beyond those boundaries, Adem didn't care to wonder. He had two objectives, a cure for Jean, and to find the Heart of Odin.

'What is this place?' Carl asked as they waited for Wil to arrive.

'Can't your Battle Angels give you all the information you need?' Adem asked.

'They've gone silent.' Carl replied, which gave Adem pause to try to speak with his own Battle Angels through the kigare, something he hadn't considered while waiting. There was no response; his sense of them was that they seemed cautious, alert, like a caged feline.

This place made them nervous.

They seemed to wait even longer for Wil than Adem had originally waited on Carl to arrive. It made sense of course, the moments Wil spent saying farewell to Hayley would equate to waiting much longer here than the few seconds before Adem and Carl had leapt at the portal. When Wil finally arrived, he was grim faced; most likely at having left Hayley surrounded by a growing force of demons. Adem was grateful for his friend's sacrifice. He would owe him for assisting him in finding a cure for Jean. He would owe them all.

***

Orion watched the battle unfold from his raised perspective, Elmira at his side with her hood covering her features. Her golden braid swayed as she scanned the battlefield, hanging across her breast one moment, then at her side then back again. She was linked with Lydia who stood to the far side of Tobin, also at his side. Both women were calling down lightning to pummel demons into the earth. They focused their attacks on the Rahkwel and Nymloc that tried to charge the outer defences, where Alit'aren held Shield-Spells of Air-Magic, allowing the Aldebrands and other immortal soldiers to hack through those Shield-Spells when pressed by demon flesh. That method would hold for now, but the linked Alit'aren would eventually tire, and when their Shield-Magic failed, the swordsmen would find it near impossible to hold off their attackers.

Orion fumed at the fact that he and Tobin were restricted in their wielding; they could have done some serious damage in a link with their two wives combined. That gave him an idea. Once it dawned on him, he couldn't imagine how it had evaded him until now. He and Tobin could link with their wives to make a circle of four, with Hayley and Arig joining that circle to make three male wielders, and three females. Such a link could devastate a large bulk of the forces that were already swarming in on all sides, and properly directed could turn this certain slaughterhouse into a defensible situation.

When he suggested this to his wife, she said, 'You are forbidden to wield any element other than Air-Magic, husband. Need I remind you?' Snapped was a better way to describe her tone.

'There is nothing in the decree about male wielders linking with females who hold the link,' he explained, 'and with the six of us combined we would increase Druantia's strength tenfold.'

'I see your point,' Elmira replied; her eyes wild as she continued to wield the lightning bolts, that fell in six dozen places every half-second. Those were her own bolts, with Lydia wielding as many or more on the west side of the battle. Tobin and Lydia needed little encouragement before they four formed a link, then Hayley joined, then Arig last. By the time Hayley had joined the link—the bulk of the flow of the link passed to her—Orion felt more alive than ever before. His heart pounded in his chest with the raw majesty of Angel-Magic flowing through him, though Jinn-Magic made his stomach twist as if swollen with rancid plums. Teron was a raging battle at the best of times, though at this intensity he found himself wondering if he might lose control—if not for the fact that the women held the link. For the most part Angel-Magic was being siphoned out of him, feeding the Angel-Spells that the women began to unleash.

Lightning flared on all four sides of the battlefield, hundreds of blazing blue bolts thick as pythons, some taking the form of great spirit-snakes and launching through enemy lines to devour demons, whole. Orion watched as the battle began to turn in their favour.

Druantia hovered about twelve feet above Hayley, shimmering blue-green fire made out her gown with hair of black flame, her seed shaped black eyes burning with hatred for the accursed beasts. Shoots, vines, and even trees began to spring up out of the ground within the demon ranks, pulling the creatures into the earth or devouring them with sharp wooden maws. This effect rippled through the fields, reaching hundreds of the demons on all sides of the battle. They were still penned in like goats, but they were fighting like lions.

A great cheer arose from the soldiers, Aldebrands and Alit'aren. The Ael Tarael began singing once more, an ancient battle ode in the Immortal Tongue. Agnars moved like death-adders, striking at the clustered Rahkwel bodies that made it as far as the Shield-Spells. Alit'aren also coiled and slashed with viperous talent, even common immortal soldiers fought with an ability that would appear blurred to a mortal's eyes—

Rahkwel horns! Hundreds of them, to the north and the south! His immortal eyes scanned the horizon to see dark waves of demons approaching from both sides, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands! They could not hold out against such a force, he realised this with a sinking pain in his chest. His wife flashed him a challenging stare, their time spent wielding Battle Angles of their own had formed a link between their emotions just as it was with Adem Highlander and Jean Fairsythe.

Lightning bolts fell like rain, the sky was aflame! Teron filled him near to limitless! He wanted to scream with rage, but the bliss of Angel-Magic contained his fury. He held Tigerclaw slanted to the side, but raised, ready to take to the forms if the lines broke. The blade glowed amber in his vision, golden tiger-hilt gripped with both fists. He would saturate this platform in demon blood if the battle lines collapsed, but for now he held onto the raging storm that was Angel-Magic, harmony and agony flooding his veins.

An arc of flames erupted from the earth—that was the Ael Tarael fighting below—a hundred paces wide. Amber leopards emerged from the flames, charging through the demon ranks as flames and lightning burst sideways from their forms. There were over two hundred of the Flame Leopards, as the Ael Tarael must have been linked in large circles. The female singing continued, their chant caught up in Air-Magic; resonating over the battlefield. The Alit'aren joined in for the male chorus, as did the Aldebrands and other warriors, deep bass tones to contrast with the female voices. It was an ancient tactic, inspiring fear and doubt in the heart of their enemies by showing they would not yield. In the mortal tongue the translation the women sang was;

Eternity, Immortality, The High Blood will prevail!

Eternity, Infinity, The Aelfin rule on high!

Eternally indestructible, Ael Tarael will fight!

Unstoppable Retribution, Unwavering in their might!

The chorus continued with male voices, singing,

The Nordics of the High Born, Eternity, Destruction!

Raise the banners; harness the Light, Prepare to Assault!

Eternally the Blade of Light! The Harbinger of Death!

Raise the banners; harness the Light, Prepare to Destroy!

Next, they sang in the mortal tongue, for there were thousands of mortal soldiers amongst their ranks who also needed to hear the words. The Alit'aren maintained their Shield-Magic on the outer defences while the soldiers joined in the male chorus, their swords moving with liquid motion, tight formation; demon bodies fell in sprays of dark blood. Lightning rained, and fire erupted in amber fountains, they would hold for now. But that army that approached from north and south would reach them soon, and then ... then they would surely fall under that wave of darkness.

Chapter 18

Dark Titans

Adem stood by a large fountain worked with statues of female Great Angels, bright green water spouting from the mouth of a bronzed fish, with sea horses rising from the pool. Carl stood to his right with Wil at his left, all of them staring, not at the fountain, but at the strange creatures that began to emerge from the shadows of nearby doorways. They were the Leaf Aldebrands, all of them unique in appearance, some covered in a shaggy grey fur, others blue or green furred. All with large seed shaped eyes that glowed with the same colour as their fur or skin. Their body shapes also varied, from short and stout to tall and slender, some wearing only hessian cloth to cover their private areas, others wearing shining armour or coats and cloaks.

Dozens of them were appearing all around the square near the fountain, their leader appeared to be the short stocky male with grey fur and eyes like blue lanterns. He wore a short red coat that flared at the waist and blue baggy trousers tucked into red leather boots. 'The Sons of Odin are most welcome, here in our realm,' said the little fellow in a deep croaky tone. 'We know what it is that you seek, though we cannot submit the Heart of Odin to you.'

'You know we need a cure for Jean?' Adem asked in shock.

'We see much from the world known as Kismeria,' the little man replied. 'We know of the sleeping curse upon the Daughter of Thor. I can offer you the cure for this, though you must then leave and never return to this place. If you do return, you will face our wrath.'

'I will accept the cure,' Adem said, and the little man extended his paw to produce a golden chain that looked similar to the one that was used to infect Jean, a small golden dragon with emerald eyes attached.

'You will take this and promise to never return?' the creature asked.

'I will accept the cure,' Adem promised, he still wasn't sure if he would leave without searching for the Heart.

'You speak in half promises, Adem Highlander,' the little man said with a glint to his eyes, 'though the safety of the White Snow Fox is integral to the preservation of all worlds. So, I will grant the cure and hope that you then leave without making further trouble.' Adem stepped forward to accept the chain that the little man placed in a small golden box before handing it over.

'Do not touch this device with your own skin,' he said. 'Place it on the wrist of the Daughter of Thor. It will reverse the spell and she will awaken.' Adem took the small box and placed it in his leather belt pouch.

'So, do you also know who created the curse?' Adem asked.

'I will not speak of it,' the man replied. 'You must leave now.' Suddenly the sky grew dark, a great thundercloud had gathered, and lightning flared above the green dome. The Leaf Aldebrands appeared startled; they began to retreat into the shadows. 'You must go, now!'

A dark shadow billowed out of the ground, erupting like a volcano over thirty feet into the air! The creatures scattered and retreated, as the shadow took the form of a giant black serpent with a red belly and crimson eyes. Its tail lashed out towards Carl, sending him flying through the air, to hit a wall of a building that crumbled as Carl vanished within the rubble. Adem hoped his friend had created a Shield-Spell to buffer his impact—he'd sensed Carl wielding Angel-Magic before he crashed into the wall—but Adem's attention was taken up with avoiding the lashing tail of the giant black viper.

He shouted, 'Arawn!' Twelve fully grown male lions made of flesh and fur launched at the snake to climb its body and bite into its shadow-flesh. The snake melted to take the form of many smaller black pythons, all of them moving for the hole where Carl had vanished. Adem was about to follow when two more shadows spurted from the marble floor. One taking the form of a giant chariot of red flames, dark horses being whipped by a figure of cloaked shadows that stood over twelve-feet-tall!

Wil shouted, 'Eledisren!' and Dis Pater appeared at his side, a figure of dark shadows wielding his great golden axe, that he used to block the flames that launched from the mouth of one of the horses. The chariot began to charge towards Wil, and his friend took off, running with a speed that could match most immortals! Where did he learn that? The other shadow tower became the figure of a giant. A muscular human form with pale flesh in black armour, its potato shaped head revealing one large amber eye. A Cyclops!

The figure wielded a massive black hammer, and it raised the weapon as Adem shouted, 'Llew Llaw Gyffes!' He teleported to the highest tower he could see nearby. He watched from the tower window as the Cyclops began to pace towards the same building where Carl had been thrown. Adem raised his blue bow and began to unleash arrows, striking the skull of the massive creature that stood over forty-feet-tall. Slowly, the giant turned and began to move towards the tower where Adem stood. He sheathed his bow and began to unleash bolts of lightning with his fists; they should have burned holes through the creature's flesh, though they did little visible damage other than leave a trail of smoke after impact.

Arawn and Llew hovered around the skull of the beast, hacking at the giant with their blades of flame, unleashing crimson and blue lightning bolts.

He saw Wil racing across the marble tiles in the distance, the chariot in close pursuit as Dis Pater launched at the cloaked figure with his golden axe. Each time Dis Pater swung the weapon, a shield of red flames blocked the strike.

The Cyclops began to climb the tower which crumbled in its grip. Adem used the teleport ability to move to another building nearby. He asked Balor if he knew any way to locate the Heart. There was no response from any of his Battle Angels.

He lashed out with bolts of lightning that struck the creature and it lost its grip to fall over fifty feet with a heavy crash; sending massive cracks through the marble floor. The creature sat upright to shake its head, swatting at the two Battle Angels that circled its form, then it stood and began to pursue Adem once more. He realised he'd need to distract the creature to allow Carl a chance to locate the Heart. He sent this message to his Battle Angels through the kigare, telling them to inform Carl's Battle Angels to relay the message. He mouthed the name, 'Balor,' and his third Battle Angel's giant wolf of blue flames appeared behind the Cyclops. Shadowhunter growled as it charged. The Cyclops turned to boot the spirit-wolf in the ribs, sending it flying through the air with an amplified yelp!

***

Carl watched the approach of the dozens of slithering black pythons. He aimed his spear; red flames burst from the tip to strike the first of the snakes, turning it pale red before its shadow form vanished. That was the first time he'd been able to destroy one of the creatures, every other time his attacks only seemed to wound the creatures and slow their movements. He stood now in a chamber deep within the building where he'd landed. First moving through the hole in the wall created by the shield he used to buffer his impact against the hard stone. The pursuit of the snakes had chased him deeper into these tunnels, where jewels and gold glittered in piles as he ran.

When he reached solid walls again, he used his newly adapted teleport ability—learnt from Llew Llaw Gyffes. He was able to move short distances through solid spaces—to move deeper within the chambers. The walls were solid gold or rainbow crystal on these lower levels, the sound of hissing snakes making him descend with haste. There appeared to be no other danger here. Math Mathonwy assured him that the Heart of Odin was close by.

His Battle Angels were connected to the Heart. They could sense its location to a certain extent over great distances, though Carl would need to refine his magic to pinpoint the artefact. Math produced a visual image in Carl's mind of a stone of pale blue—the size of a clenched fist—that glowed with light of various colours when touched. That was the Heart, and it was somewhere within these catacombs of treasure. As he moved closer to the destination, he began to sense the artefact in tune with his own heartbeat. He achieved this by wielding a spell that focused on the source of teron, the male half of Angel-Magic; that was the Magic of Odin. He used his Battle Angels to obtain this sense of teron, which flowed strongest through the artefact he sought. Many of the weapons and artefacts amongst these treasure piles must have been crafted for wielding terael, the female half of Angel-Magic, as he sensed nothing from them even though his Battle Angels assured him almost everything here was enchanted.

He moved through another wall of gold, entering a much larger chamber with treasure piles rising against the walls, the light emanated from no visible source, though it was everywhere. The ceiling was forty feet above, arched domes supported by crystal columns that glowed crimson, golden and emerald. The Heart was here, somewhere, he was certain of it—

The air warped above him to reveal a shadow-cloaked-figure with a demon-skulled silver-mask. Golden flames flared in the eye sockets; the High-Servant raised a blade burning like hot blood. Carl vanished before a crimson beam struck the treasure pile where he'd been standing. He'd used the teleport ability to shift behind the attacker. He landed crouched with his spear pointed at the back of the High-Servant. He unleashed a bar of red flame; sending the High-Servant flying through the air. A moment later the air shimmered to reveal a large black panther with eyes of liquid shadows. Carl shouted, 'Math Mathonwy!'

As the panther charged forward; a dozen Shadow Hounds surrounded the creature, slashing at its skull with steel claws. The panther fought back, striking out at its attackers, browbeating the Shadow Hounds as they howled in humiliation. The twelve Hounds were enough to keep the creature occupied, however. The presence of the panther meant this was Kelveroth. The little Carl knew of this Shadowsouled was that he was once known as a careful planner, preferring a cleverly designed tactic to open attacks. Kelveroth raised his sword as Carl shifted to land some distance from the unleashed wall of flame. Kelveroth hovered in the air, black cloak billowing like clouds; the air around him seemed to radiate evil. He was strong too.

Math Mathonwy launched at Kelveroth, red spear striking sword of flames, fire erupted through the air in a wave, shaking the walls as stone began to fall from the ceiling.

Carl sensed for the Heart, locating it somewhere beneath a nearby pile of gold coins and jewellery boxes. Then he found the exact location—as another blast of fire shook the earth and the treasure pile flowed like sand—and he saw it, a pale blue stone half buried in gold. Kelveroth must've sensed it also, as he thrust the sword into Math Mathonwy's chest plate, sending the Battle Angel flying across the room. The air around Kelveroth warped, but at the same time Carl used his ability to shift to the Heart. They both clutched the stone a second later ... Lightning flared in the stone; bursting outwards in all directions. Carl felt Angel-Magic fill him! Teron was a raging storm, an avalanche of fire and a river of corruption.

Lightning pulsed through Kelveroth's form, harnessed by Carl and focused on the pressure points of his enemy. The High-Servant was thrown backwards from the blast, hitting a wall collapsing in a heap of smoke. The air warped around the fallen form and Kelveroth vanished. As did his panther, only moments after Math's Shadow Hounds became a pack of thirty, all larger than their normal size and snarling with ferocity. The Heart of Odin flared in his left fist, lightning filling the room and moving from the crystal into his flesh, a bolt of blue light flaring behind him like a thick Fire Serpent.

Carl summoned Math back to his spear, the Hounds and his Battle Angel flowing into the weapon in a flare of red light. A moment later Carl shifted again, this time he would have been able to move to the surface in one leap. Though instead he went deeper into the structure. Something else was down here, something that was also calling to him.

***

Wil dodged a burst of red flames that one of the horses spat at him. The cloaked spectre whipped at Dis Pater, sending the Battle Angel flying through the air. Those whip attacks were draining Dis Pater's strength, soon he would need rest to recover. Wil ran as fast as any Aelfin, somehow, he'd become capable of this through his experiences in the Chameleon Arch. As his flesh became stronger, his speed and endurance increased.

He unleashed golden arrows at the tall shadow, each arrow hitting the shield of flames and doing no visible damage, other than to distract the spirit; allowing Dis Pater to launch another attack. Their efforts were futile however; they were going to lose this battle unless they found the Heart.

He ran in circles around the chariot, arrows of flame seemingly doing some damage to the shadow steeds at least. They became slower; temporarily, and their flame tongues were extinguished for a time. He moved like Quicksilver, teron flowing through his veins as he harnessed the strongest attacks he could manage. Those arrows would have taken out over fifty Rahkwel in an explosion of fire, though against this foe they were almost useless—

Suddenly bolts of blue lightning were surging up out of the ground all around Wil, they moved in thick tendrils like Fire Serpents. The bolts tore into his flesh; his blood coursing with levels of teron that he'd never thought possible! With this amount of Angel-Magic, he felt that he was made of Elemental Magic. Jinn-Magic surging through its purity like a sea of leprous eels.

He fired burning light at the specter's skull, the arrows punched through the shield, as golden flames encased the shadow-cloaked figure. He fired upon the horses, punishing them with heavy blasts as they began to buck and bolt.

Lightning flowed into Dis Pater, as the air above the Battle Angel swarmed with thousands of Flame Crows. They swooped upon the shadow figure, pecking at its cloak to tear it apart in dark shreds. Others flew like bullets, striking the horses and tearing holes through their flesh. Dis Pater swung his golden axe at the skull of the ghost, crows scattered as the cloak collapsed in a blue blaze of floating ashes.

***

Carl moved deeper through the tunnels and chambers of gold and crystal, treasures laying in piles, gold and jewels, horns, shields, armour and weapons of gold or silver. He moved in short jumps, morphing through walls of gold or dark stone, the new source of magic drawing him deeper.

His Battle Angels were coaxing him onwards, urging him to locate the source as they insisted it was vital to the future of Kismeria. They would say no more than this, though their sense of urgency was enough. Lightning still flared around him, pulsing from the blue stone that filled his right fist. Teron flowed through him like a storm of bliss, Jinn-Magic so revolting he felt it might rip him apart. Angel-Magic raged; stretching his every fibre to their absolute limits.

He shifted deeper, the blue stone flaring with light in the darkness. Leaf Aldebrands occasionally scrambling across the floors, walls or even the ceilings, their large eyes gazing upon him with awe. He moved deeper, knowing every moment he searched was more time he risked the lives of so many. He landed in a square shaped cavern of crystal. Before him was a chamber of solid gold with a large door of shimmering blue runes.

He shifted the Heart of Odin to his left hand, reaching for his crimson spear and extending it to full length in his right fist. The spell just seemed to enter his mind, some transference via the Heart. He tapped against the gold chamber with the point of his spear, blue lightning pulsing from his form to enter the glowing runes. A network of turning gears could be heard as the door slid sideways. An immortal man stood within the chamber, though Carl wondered what could be so important about this fellow. The figure was at first crouched, against the wall, wearing a tattered coat, and trousers. His hair was short, dark and spiked, and remarkably his face was clean shaven.

The man stared at Carl as if seeing right through him, he looked haunted from his imprisonment, then his large green eyes became harder, focused. He hunched at first, coughed and covered his mouth with his fist; then he pointed to another door against the far wall. 'Ayen si y'vend,' the man said, which took a moment for Carl to interpret. It was Old Nordic, he was saying, 'My belongings.'

Carl moved to open the other door that glowed green, and when the solid gold panel slid free, it revealed armour and a sword with a jewelled scabbard, but the first thing the man reached for was a small brown leather pouch. He tipped the bag upside down over his palm, and four small gems spilled out. They glowed with a pale light, a ruby, emerald, diamond and a sapphire.

Then the little furry Leaf Aldebrand leader appeared through a warp in the crystal wall, shouting, 'No! You cannot do this! Curse you, Carl Wilder! Curse you!' The little man shook a fist with anger burning in his seed shaped eyes, then vanished in another warp of air. 'They will be back soon,' the immortal said. The man began to gather his other belongings when suddenly more of the furry creatures began to emerge through the wall of crystal, the air warping as they appeared out of columns of shadow and light. Carl moved beside the immortal, clasping a hand over his shoulder, and they shifted from this place, towards the surface.

***

Adem sensed the moment Carl obtained the Heart of Odin, then the next moment lightning tore through the walls of the high tower where he stood. Blue bolts thick as pythons latching onto his flesh, teron surging through his veins to unimaginable levels. The Cyclops was climbing the tower below him, Balor, Llew and Arawn circling the skull of the creature as it gripped the golden bricks that crumbled in its fists. The moment that lightning appeared, his Battle Angels began to assault the Cyclops in a frenzy of strikes; their glowing weapons releasing bolts of lightning and waves of flame. This time the giant was affected by their attacks. As it started to lose its grip on the tower, Adem shouted in the Immortal Tongue, the English translation was, 'Wings of Odin!'

Wings of blue flame burst from Adem's back, as the lightning continued to pulse around him and bury into his flesh and bones. Teron was a whirling cyclone of flame and a cascading river of snow! With that amount of Angel-Magic flowing through him, Jinn-Magic was almost unbearable. He could turn an army of Rahkwel to vapour or make the earth crumble in pillars of flame. He raised his fist, a spear of lightning appeared in his right hand, glowing incandescent blue.

He flew!

He soared out the window on the Wings of Odin!

He was the Blue Water Dragon!

High above the Cyclops he hovered, circling the creature as he threw down dozens of the lightning rods. Each attack stunned the creature, sending it off balance, but it was not destroyed. He harnessed more Angel-Magic, teron filling his veins to fifty times his normal capacity. He threw a bolt of lightning; that became a sword of blue flame, thirty feet long. It struck the skull of the Cyclops and surged through its form; black armour burned to smoke and slag as the creature began to shrink in size, then it fell.

Lightning still enveloped Adem, flowing into his form to fill him with teron and ki'mera. The ki'mera also charged up his Battle Angels.

He saw Carl and Wil on the ground below, two lightning spheres with human forms glowing within. Bran, Dis Pater, Angus and Math hovered around those spheres, as lightning coursed through their forms.

Adem swooped down towards his friends, landing beside them to see a third man, being held up by Carl; an immortal man with jade green eyes. Where had he come from? He was about to ask when six giant clouds burst from the marble floor, becoming columns of shadow. The shadows became the forms of two giant black pythons, two cloaked figures on burning chariots and two Cyclops! Adem heard a message from all of his Battle Angels at once, the word they shouted was, Retreat!

Math Mathonwy picked Carl up by the shoulders, as Dis Pater picked up Wil, launching them into the air on crimson and golden wings. Angus sprouted emerald wings and picked up the immortal man to carry him into the sky. Adem flew after them, towards the distant, glimmering portal.

***

Orion watched the army of darkness approaching from the south, hundreds of thousands of Rahkwel, Nymloc and Jacoulra. As well as Boli-Kuldr, the eight-feet-tall beasts in black armour with skulls of rams or bulls; they wielded heavy black scythes or double-edged axes. An equal sized force also approached from the north, and when those forces closed in around their defences, they were surely doomed.

Lightning still filled the sky, plummeting to the earth to strike hundreds of demons every flickering moment, the earth erupted in flames. Druantia's vines surged from the earth; coiling around demon bodies to drag them into the gaping chasms of dirt and stone. Trees still shot up out of the ground to snatch demon bodies and force them into wooden maws that chewed flesh and bones as black blood flowed down the animated trunks.

Ael Tarael wielded walls of flame and released Flame Leopards; setting demon bodies alight, though all of these defences were barely holding back the smaller forces that pressed in around the Stairs. Alit'aren Shield-Magic still defended the border lines where Aldebrands and soldiers fought with swords or axes to cut down Rahkwel and Nymloc, as the demons scratched at the walls of Air-Magic; snarling like ferocious lions.

Further back within the demon ranks, Rahkwel fired waves of dark arrows into the air. Ael Tarael Shield-Spells still protected the army from above, walls of Fire-and-Air-Magic turning every black shaft to dust. Without the Ael Tarael those arrows would have cut their army to shreds.

Men armed with pikes also pushed at the outer lines behind the Alit'aren shields, using the chop of blade and push of spear to keep some distance between the demons and Alit'aren Shield-Magic. When Ael Tarael attacks broke up the enemy lines, crossbowmen tore through the charging lines of demons, and archers would send volleys to slow the advance of the next wave. Orion suspected they were already running out of arrows and crossbow bolts. He heard Rahkwel horns sounding from the south ... He saw the first waves of the larger forces charging to close the gap between the outer defences—

Wil Martyr passed through the portal, carried by Dis Pater on golden wings! Carl Wilder was next to appear! Math Mathonwy setting Carl down, as the Battle Angel's crimson wings vanished, spear of red fire appearing in his grip. Lightning surged through the Sons of Odin and their Battle Angels; the Heart of Odin glowed bright blue in Carl's fist!

Orion pointed to the south and shouted, 'Look!' Carl turned to see the charging force of tens of thousands of demons, Nymloc, Rahkwel, Jacoulra and Boli-Kuldr. Carl pointed the Heart of Odin towards the demons. The earth beneath them became fire, red flames erupting from the earth in a square mile. Hundreds of Shadow Hounds appeared; massive dark wolves that released blasts of fire and lightning bolts. They charged into the advancing army; demon bodies exploding.

Adem Highlander flew from the portal, on wings of blue flame!

He was the Blue Water Dragon!

Adem soared high into the sky, lightning bolts surging around his form, and that of his three Battle Angels who circled his form on wings of fire. Angus and Bran also appeared beside Carl and Wil. When Wil gestured towards the army advancing from the north, the sky above became a cloud of Flame Crows, numbering in the tens of thousands; swooping upon the demon army to feast upon their flesh. Lightning of blues, reds and yellows burst from the crows, moving like pythons of light through the demon ranks. Crows punched through demon chests in bright flares; reducing flesh to crumbling ash.

Adem unleashed a bolt of lightning that fell towards the southern demon army, like a great trident, exploding outwards in waves of flame upon impact, turning thousands of demons to vapour! He unleashed a second attack upon the northern army to the same effect; the two demon forces halting in terror. The front lines even attempting a retreat as they were pushed forwards by the blades of those behind. There were Souljhin amongst those ranks also, riding shadow steeds and herding the demons forward, though even they halted in contemplation of what occurred next.

Druantia and the male Battle Angels formed a Link, and the clouded sky above began to surge with blue lightning bolts like giant Fire Pythons! The dark clouds rotated to form a vortex; lightning fell upon the demon ranks in crimson, golden, emerald and aqua bolts. A great roar of thunder filled the sky, rumbling again and again like the Herald of Odin!

In the sky above Adem Highlander, the face of the Lord of Lightning appeared. Odin the All Father, was a blue bearded cloud of light with eyes of white fire, hovering within the centre of the vortex. Suddenly the sky was filled with lightning, tens of thousands of blue bolts striking the demon ranks!

Demon bodies exploded in showers of dark blood, limbs and skulls flying amidst pillars of flame. Hundreds of Shadow Hounds became thousands, Arawn's Fire Lions joining the northern attack and numbering over a thousand. Each of them releasing blasts of fire and lightning that sent shockwaves through the demon forces, bodies exploding in rivers of blood. Llew Llaw Gyffes' wolves of blue fire also appeared, spread across the north and south sides of the battle, and Balor's giant wolf Shadowhunter charged at their head on the northern side, blue lightning bursting from its form to blast demons to cinders.

Orion then noticed the other man who had appeared from the portal, carried and set down by the Battle Angel, Angus. He looked upon the man's immortal face, those large green eyes. His armour was navy blue with an emerald dragon emblazoned on the chest, holding a spear of white fire. It took him a few moments for the realization to dawn upon him, though when he saw the man fumbling in his belt pouch to draw forth four small stones—a ruby, a diamond, an emerald and a blue stone—he realised he must be looking at Elarja RinHannen!

He was certain the man had to be Elarja, though he looked drained of strength, close to death in fact, despite the radiance in his eyes. The stones began to glow in his hand, and suddenly the lightning also surrounded Elarja's form, filling him with teron and ki'mera. That might be enough for the man to recover to a point of being able to assist in this battle, though Orion knew he needed one last artefact to assure their victory.

His temporary connection to Druantia through the kigare, also now extended to the Battle Angels of the Sons of Odin. He sent a request, to Llew Llaw Gyffes, explaining the location of the Harp of Odin, which lay in a chest in a secret chamber at Nordhel. There was no response from the Battle Angel, but Carl Wilder turned to Orion to say, 'I will bring it!' Carl then vanished in a flare of blue fire.

Moments later Carl reappeared in a flare of blue light—a new ability via the Heart, Orion assumed—and in his left hand was the Harp of Souls, the Heart of Odin still glowing in his right. Orion reached for the Harp, breathing a sigh of relief as he strummed three strings, the sound resonating through the air.

For a moment, everything seemed to slow, his breathing, the battle, the lightning, as shockwaves ruptured outwards through the demon ranks, the aftermath of each string plucked, flowing in all directions. A fog began to rise, billowing grey clouds lined with silver light that oozed from the ground within the lines of defence. A rider appeared on the platform, rising out of a column of the fog, the horse and rider shimmering with light. Orion recognized his face, it was Lord Jothar Kelderath. The Hero of Will raised a sword of blue fire, his armour silver light; his horse pale flames. Kelderath grinned as Orion stared back in pure shock. Out of the fog below, more riders began to appear, Heroes of Will summoned from the Harp of Odin. Each was a figure of light in shining armour; wielding sword, axe, bow or spear of blinding fire.

Carl Wilder also looked upon Kelderath in awe, as the Hero of Will said, 'Greetings, Orion Demon-Slayer. This is a fine battle. The Heroes of Will are glad to join.'

Orion then saw that Arig Flame-Bow also glowed, as he began to unleash crimson arrows that hammered into the front lines of enemies to the south; demon bodies sent flying in explosions of blood and fire. Orion looked south, then north, to see a hundred or more glowing riders forming an arrowhead at the outer defences. In total the Heroes of Will must have numbered close to three hundred warriors, some guarding the east and west flanks. They were a burning apparition of majesty and might, ghosts that walked amongst the living; Heroes of incredible deeds in countless lifetimes.

A great cry arose from the Heroes of Will that was haunting and courageous. The cry was answered by the thousands of living warriors who stood with them, a furious battle cry of those who would shed demon blood this day! Energies flared from the arrowhead wedges, bolts of lightning from spears, flaming arrows from enchanted bows, miraculous spells that blazed with Elemental Magic. Vaporizing demon flesh, turning Boli-Kuldr armour to melted slag, and tearing limbs and skulls apart in brilliant bright flares. The might of the Heroes washed over the demon ranks as a tidal wave of pure magnificence, an obliterating force surging with magic from beyond the grave.

Chapter 19

The Dragon Rises

Adem watched the demon ranks shatter; lightning bolts tore through the earth; Rahkwel and Boli-Kuldr limbs flying, Nymloc and Jacoulra burning to ash. Thunder roared like a sea of lions; Odin carved from burning blue clouds above. The clouds burst with rainfall, a flooding downpour that soaked the dry earth as demons and humans alike began to lose their footing in the sludge. Even from this height of over eighty feet above the battlefield, he heard the cries of joy from the warriors below, their excitement building at the first rains in many weeks.

Lightning fell almost as heavily as the rain, blazing blue bolts striking the demons like giant blades, scorching the earth in explosions of stone and blood. Adem was wielding most of that lightning, with some assistance via the link between him, Carl and Wil. Teron was multiplied a hundred times a normal link, due to the Heart of Odin that fuelled their surge. Though, the lightning had a force of its own also, due to the Link between the Battle Angels, but also due to the presence of Odin.

Odin took form; a ten-feet-tall man in crimson-and-golden armour, a coat of blue fire and boots of emerald. His beard and hair were white fog with blazing blue eyes. Odin hovered above Adem on burning blue wings. Lightning bolts flowed from Odin's form, into Adem, as well as his Battle Angels, filling him with torrents of teron. Slain demon souls provided him with flying rivers of ki'mera. Glowing orbs flowed in all directions, from the demon ranks to the wielders who unleashed Elemental Attacks, as well as the Battle Angels and the Sons of Odin.

Hundreds of thousands of demons swarmed on both sides of the battlefield, pressing his army in around the Stairs. Soon those masses would crush his army against those walls.

Odin hurled lightning at the demons below. Blazing tridents struck the earth to explode in showers of burning flesh. Odin drew forth a blazing golden spear from his shoulder case, pointing the blade end at the demon ranks. White fire flew from the weapon; waves of energy exploding in a circular blast. He struck again and again, vaporizing hundreds of demons with every attack, wounding thousands, torn limbs flying from the point of impact. Arawn, Llew and Balor flew around Odin, the three Battle Angels hurling down fire and lightning at the demon army. The demons howled as flames erupted through their ranks like a grenade cluster.

The Heroes of Will were gathering at the forefront of the defensive lines; invincible wedges of shields and blades. Soldiers, Aldebrands and Alit'aren would defend the sides of those wedges to surround the Ael Tarael. The cavalry was sitting idle behind swordsmen and archers. Now was not the time to risk them on a charge through such a vast horde. They needed to wear the enemy down before the lines would break.

Adem noticed something else from this height. Fog was appearing on the edges of the demon ranks; with his enhanced vision he could make out the spirits of animals appearing from those glowing clouds. Some were stags, others were wolves, or bears, lions, leopards and cougars. The sky was suddenly aflame with thousands of birds of blazing light, eagles, falcons and hawks; they soared through the air and swooped upon the killing fields to harry the confused enemy. A great roar of thousands of animal spirits filled the air as the lions, wolves and other creatures charged into the demon ranks to attack with claws, horns or hooves. Adem knew this miracle was only possible due to the presence of Odin.

Adem harnessed a punishing flow of teron, throwing down two more Blades of Odin, one north and one south. He aimed at the heart of the demon ranks; lightning exploding in waves that vaporized demon flesh on both sides of the battlefield. Those attacks were draining to his strength, though the Heart of Odin replenished those levels after a time. He began to wonder for a better way to use such immense potential for destruction.

He saw an army nestled in a fold in the land to the north, a Borderland force with many black coated riders amongst them. It had to be the rebels. He flew like a bolt of lightning towards the army, some miles northwest of the battle, and his eyes made out the face of Rodriel Tarz; seated on a rise where he could oversee the battle.

He swooped down to hover some ten feet above Tarz and a number of other armoured immortals on horseback, keeping himself higher than the Alit'aren rebel—and showing off his Wings of Odin—to demonstrate his raised status. Tarz's eyes bulged for a moment in comprehension of Adem's face, then a look of control returned to the man, who scratched at his close-cropped black beard before saying, 'So, you truly are the Water Dragon, Adem Highlander. Eyen'sa'Tremlok: The Dragon Rises!' Tarz pressed fist to heart as he said, 'My men will follow you anywhere, Adem Highlander. The Blue Water Dragon rules the skies.'

Adem pressed a fist to his own heart and rose a few feet higher with his wings of blue flame flapping for emphasis—there was no need of wing movement to stay in the air—before he replied, 'You disappoint me, Tarz. Our people are trapped, and you remain here, waiting for your proven miracle. Well, here I am, Tarz. Look upon your Dragon and follow my commands. I give full permission for your Alit'aren to use whatever spell necessary to overthrow the enemy. I make the rules now.'

'I won't argue with your word, Water Dragon,' Tarz replied. 'I will do as you command.' Then he raised a fist and lightning flew from his hand into the sky, a signal to his army. He enhanced his voice with Angel-Magic as he turned his horse to shout at them, 'We ride to war! The Dragon Rises! Alit'aren, drive the enemy into retreat! Evien'da'soceura!' Adem understood that last was a war cry: To battle and bloodshed. A great roar erupted from the warriors in a wave. Horns sounded, and the riders began to charge.

***

Carl stood on the platform of Odin's Stairs. The portal had now become a square sealed by a slab of dark stone. He looked upon the southern side of the battle where lightning fell, and demons exploded in bursts of blood. Still the enemy pressed in around them, the outer defence lines swarming with Rahkwel and Boli-Kuldr that tried to penetrate the Alit'aren and Ael Tarael Shield-Spells with their blades and claws. The Heroes of Will fought back, a wedge of light and shadows; slashing with impossible speed; unleashing lightning and fire from spearheads and bows. The battle lines in front of them were being broken up by spirit-wolves and Shadow Hounds. Druantia's vines grappled demon bodies and pulled them into the earth.

The Battle Angels were still forming a Link. Odin and Adem's Battle Angels hovered in the sky throwing down lightning and fire. Carl sensed the consciousness of Orion, Tobin, Lydia and Elmira through the Link, as well as Hayley and Arig Flame-Bow. Arig had become a Hero of Will again! His coat and armour shone; his bow firing magic in the form of blades of molten lava. A look of tremendous concentration on his face, his dark hair flowing like shadows; his eyes were white lightning. Angus and Math Mathonwy hovered above Carl; creating Shield-Spells over the platform as lightning surged through their forms.

Each time Carl felt his ki'mera levels fully charge, he gestured towards the demon army. Flames erupted from the earth in waves, becoming the forms of more Shadow Hounds that tore through demon flesh. Still it was taking too long to regain his strength after each strike with Angel-Magic. He needed to get deep within the battle lines. He had to lead them! A new trick became possible via the Heart. The ability was explained to him by Math Mathonwy. Wil had also just learnt the technique.

Carl planted his crimson spear in the stone. Math Mathonwy became a shield around his flesh. Together, the two of them combined to become a twelve-feet-tall spirit of white fire with a spear of blue lightning. The armour of this new spirit form was burning blue. Carl was raised within this new form to hover within the chest of Math, Carl's spear and movements guiding the larger lightning-spear as Math's larger form moved under his control.

Carl turned to see Dis Pater combining with Wil, to form a similar being of light and shadows, wielding a massive axe of crimson light. Carl launched into the sky on wings of fire; landing at the head of the wedge of Heroes of Will to the south. His left fist planted in the earth, the ground trembling and a burst of mud flying before he stood within the pouring rain; pointing his spear at the demon swarms. The spear unleashed torrents of red flames and blue bolts; demons fell in burning pieces. The Heroes of Will roared with pride, and the other warriors joined in the battle cry. Carl charged forward, decapitating demon skulls in sprays of blood and flame. He heard the thunder of hooves from behind. Two dozen of the Heroes of Will rushed to his aid, hacking at skulls from horseback; blades scorching demon flesh. Rodin Cloud-Walker rode at their head on a white stallion—bolts of blue lightning blasting from his spear—while other Archer Heroes released blazing arrows from Lukrorian Bows. Carl roared as he moved into a frenzy of killing strikes, churning through demon flesh. The wailing of demons filled his ears, along with the sounds of steel clashing; armour and flesh tearing.

He gestured southwards, slamming the spear of fire into the earth. A wall of lightning fifty-feet wide and twenty-feet high flowed through the demon ranks, bodies fell, fried to dark masses. Other demons were melted or vaporized by the blasts.

Angus was there also, hurling emerald energies in waves, swinging his burning staff to unleash the attacks. Lightning surged through Angus, who fought with fury. Hundreds of bodies lay scattered at his feet. Shadow Hounds raced around them, biting and clawing at demon flesh, tearing off limbs and skulls in bursts of blood. It was a killing field, and they were close to victory. He swung the spear of lightning; unleashing thin sheets of fire over a hundred paces wide, slicing through the demon ranks. Demons screamed as flesh melted off their bones; skeletons collapsed in crimson flame.

***

Terese was overwhelmed with emotion; blue light emanating from her coat, white trousers, and burning aqua boots. The Heroes of the Harp of Souls had been summoned, and for now, she was one of them. Angel-Magic filled her spirit, though she was flesh and blood now also. The combination surpassed the might of even the ancient Nordics. A part of her wished to be at the battle that she sensed now through Tanriel, who was joined to her mind via the temporary surge in Angel-Magic.

She was somewhat surprised that her body was not transported to the battlefield to fight beside her Brothers and Sisters. Though, she was glad to remain at Jean's side to play the role of protector. Jean lay on the bed sheets in her deep slumber; she seemed to become paler by the minute. It pained her to see Jean so victimised, she blamed Adem for it. His indiscretions were at the heart of Jean's lack of better judgement. Though, Terese had to blame herself also. She should have foreseen this betrayal by Elviara and Verielle.

She wanted to scream with outrage, but Angel-Magic of the Heroes of Will was filling her with waves of deep calm and concentration, like lightning in her veins; burning brightly in her soul. She also felt weakened by the deep emotions that flickered through her consciousness. 'It will be alright, Jean,' she whispered as she stroked the woman's brow with her thumbnail. 'Adem will return, and you shall awaken.' She wanted to weep endlessly.

Tanriel sent a warning through the kigare, and Terese spun, drawing her blade that glowed like starlight. A warp in the air appeared, and a woman stepped through. Terese knew that face instantly, Calliestra! The Dark General—wearing a gown of white silk that also glowed with unnatural light—raised both hands with fingers pointed out flat; red fire flew from her fingertips! Terese stood facing the blast, wielding Shield-Magic at the same moment that she raised her sword. Terael was strong within her now; red lightning clawing at the wall of liquid-fire. Terese shouted the word, 'Assassin!'

The door swung wide as two Aldebrands leapt through the doorway, both with swords drawn. They charged towards Calliestra, and the woman gestured; both flying backwards, one hitting the door, the other flying through the doorway. Samran crumpled to the floor. Terese suspected Aldos would have a nastier lump on his head if he woke.

'So, it was you all along!' Terese shouted. 'I see Verielle in your features now. You will pay for this, Shadow-Heart!' She launched herself at the dark-haired woman, sword swinging in the forms of Lioness Claws, moving into Crow Wings, flowing into Raven Swoops, the blade danced around Calliestra as the woman twisted like a venomous serpent. Bear Tooth becoming Slow Burning Candle, an attempt made to drive the blade down into the woman's chest, followed by a series of horizontal swipes that Calliestra easily evaded by leaping backwards with the skill of a Battle Dancer. The woman's dark eyes flared with anger however, she knew when she was outmatched, but did not like the realisation.

'You are strong for now, little Brenda,' Calliestra said, 'but I will return for you, and her, when your abilities are drained.' She raised her hands again to unleash another blast of flames, thin sheets of fire both longer than the distance from her wrists to elbows. Terese had maintained a Shield-Spell and cut through it when desired, the fire hitting the wall of liquid-flames to temporarily block her view of the woman in a red haze. When the fire dissipated, Calliestra was gone. 'Run then, coward!' Terese shouted. 'I will hunt you down for this, wretched callous witch!' Two-faced back-stabbing bitch! She took a deep slow breath to calm her nerves, and then looked to Jean in fear that the fires had touched her. She was fine however, sleeping soundly. She watched the rise and fall of Jean's chest with nervousness, her rage boiling like a kettle. She would have her vengeance! 'Guards!' she cried. 'Assassin in the chambers of the Snow Fox!—Guards! Sound the Alarm!' She roared with the might of a Hero of Will.

***

Wil charged through the demon ranks, swinging his golden axe; controlling the giant axe of golden lightning wielded by Dis Pater. They were still joined to create a warrior of shadows and lightning armour, that stood over fourteen-feet-tall. Heroes of Will charged around him on horses of fire and shadows, hacking with burning blades that stripped the flesh from demon bones.

Egron Blue-Fox was there, in shining navy armour; twin swords slashing with bursts of blue flames. The white beard of the Hero of Will glowed like the light of the moon. 'Ho there, Wil Martyr!' Egron shouted. 'You fight with Angel-Magic of the First Bloods! Long has it been since man and Battle Angel have joined spirit with flesh!' He hacked at the skull of a Nymloc and the creature was struck by a pillar of blue flames. He plunged both blades into the neck of an eight-feet-tall Boli-Kuldr—blazing blue bolts tore through its form—then sliced the bull shaped skull from its shoulders in a dark spray. Jarien Stone-Spear charged on a white steed to cut down a half dozen Jacoulra with his spear of white fire, emblazoned crimson armour and a coat of burning blue. Each time the spear impacted, a blast of light, like a small explosion, sent Jacoulra limbs and skulls flying.

Wil hacked again with his axe; waves of golden flame flew in thin sheets that vaporized demon flesh. He fought with a speed only possible due to the transformation, sending out walls of fire twenty paces deep! Bran was hacking through demon torsos with his blade of blue flames, his armour surging with white lightning via the Heart of Odin. Wil felt teron bathing his soul, electricity coursed through his veins; Jinn-Magic a surging dark corruption.

Most of the Heroes on the northern battlefield were still forming a wedge to blockade the defence lines on this side of Odin's Stairs. He slammed the axe haft into the earth, golden lightning rained from the heavens, a hundred thick tridents every half second, and the attack lasted over half a minute, demon bodies frying in the blasts. He slashed again with the axe, hacking through demon armour and flesh. He fought with savagery and passion to drive every demon from this land or grind them into dust.

Breeanna Golden-Arrow charged past him on a white mare, unleashing golden flames from her Lukrorian Bow of emerald light, her golden braid swinging behind her as she gave Wil an adorable smile. That woman was a true beauty, and he did not feel guilty in admitting it. Large blue eyes and pale skin that glowed like starlight, she wore an emerald breastplate and gauntlets, shining with the light of immortality. 'You do honour to the Old Blood, Wil Martyr!' she cried with an expression of pride; cutting down three Boli-Kuldr with golden arrows. The bull-horned beasts were charging before her arrows flew, but they fell with holes burnt through their black armoured chests. She unleashed similar fury against a pack of Nymloc before turning his way again to shout, 'Mo'tolianar Keresh'notolis!—Welcome, Black Shadow Wolf!'

***

Adem soared above the demon army, throwing down lightning blades, scorching the earth in eruptions that broke up packs of Boli-Kuldr and Rahkwel; scattering them in waves of flying body parts. His three Battle Angels still circled him, throwing down bolts of fire. Odin hovered above them, lightning coursing from his form into theirs, recharging their ki'mera and flows of teron. Then Adem sent to his Battle Angels; Join your Brothers on the killing fields. Make a mockery of this demon plague.

Arawn, Balor and Llew soared towards the northern end of the battle, landing in a cloud of smoke and blasts of coloured flame. The three Battle Angels slew a path with their blades, lightning reached out like burning claws to obliterate demon flesh. Odin continued to soar above Adem, the Lord of Lightning throwing down rods of white fire from the tip of his golden spear.

The rain continued to pelt down heavily, though Adem created a shield to block the downpour, lightning still coursed into the earth in blazing tridents from the vortex. The Heart of Odin was insurmountable power, though he feared it was not everlasting. He sent the question to Odin, who was temporarily joined to him through the kigare, asking; How long will this last? Odin replied in a voice of thunder, though the message was spoken to his mind; I am nearly at my limit, Dragon Son.

That message sparked great concern. Without the Battle Angels there was no hope of victory. Unless ... the idea developed in his mind at that moment, a stroke of genius he would call it. He would attempt something dangerous, something that may result in devastation for his entire force if not handled correctly, though he knew it was his last chance.

He swooped down onto the platform at the peak of Odin's Stairs. There, Arig Flame-Bow stood unleashing Angel-Magic; bathed in light. The flames flying from his Lukrorian Bow appeared to be liquid magma. He sensed the link between Arig and Hayley, joined with Tobin, Orion, Lydia and Elmira. It was a powerful link, increased dramatically by the Link between the Battle Angels, who were all joined to Odin's Power. Though, Adem needed a stronger link. He explained his plan to Orion, who stood poised with his golden blade, his face a mask of ecstasy and anguish. The force Adem felt was much stronger, though he understood the immortal's predicament, as he attempted to concentrate, while Adem explained.

Once Orion understood he relayed the message to the others, and moments later Adem felt the link pass to him, raging torrents mixed with a volatile corruption, and he sensed it from both teron and terael. Druantia's curse seemed equal to the corruption on teron. He still shared a link with Carl and Wil also, and at this level he felt that he might be ripped apart by Angel-Magic. But his plan was not complete.

He swooped down to land amongst the Ael Tarael that were gathered close to the southern wall of the Stairs, explaining his plan to Lauren Celman. Her gaze was focused, as she was part of a powerful link with over a dozen Ael Tarael in her chain. In short order, those twelve joined his chain, as the link was passed to him. Then word spread, and the other smaller linked chains of Ael Tarael began to pass their link to him also. This was achieved more slowly than he would wish, as they needed to allow a number of the Alit'aren nearby, and some Aldebrands, to extend the link to allow such a large chain.

His mind reeled at the strength of teron that flowed through him, by the time he had a chain of over a hundred souls. His vision would occasionally flare with white fire, as if Angel-Magic itself were welling up in his eyes. He could have joined more on the northern side of the battle, though he felt this was sufficient for his plan to work. He soared into the sky, over one hundred paces into the air, and began to throw down Blades of Odin that were one hundred feet long and six paces wide. The blasts of Angel-Magic ripped into the earth amongst the bulk of the demon ranks, two Blades, four, six, eight Blades of Odin!

The Lord of Lightning also threw down similar attacks, the link between them providing the First-Born Battle Angel with enough teron to turn this battle into a massacre. Blasts of white fire erupted into domes like small atomic bombs. Burning thousands of demons into dust, blasting thousands more flying in broken shards. More were buried under waves of earth and stone.

Adem saw to the north, Tarz and his riders were attacking the northern wedge of demons, Alit'aren throwing lightning bolts from horseback. Aldebrands fanned out on the flanks as the riders began to plough through the demon ranks, flaming arrows blasting from Lukrorian Bows. The northern demon army was being crushed between Tarz and the Heroes of Will, and the large figure of lightning that he sensed was Wil, joined with Dis Pater in some transformation, as was Carl on the southern end of the battle.

But this was not his genius plan. The idea had dawned upon him when he remembered the spell Orion had used on guards during their escape from El'Koto's imprisonment. He formed the spell, harnessing the full power of the link; then unleashed it onto the demon army. He watched as tens of thousands of demon bodies began to fall in waves, bodies bursting as dark blood flowed like grapes in the wine press. It was a terrible spell to use against a human, though once Adem saw it; he knew it would be vital in battles such as this.

The idea to form such a large link, to increase the damage of such Angel-Spells, had only occurred to him while he soared above the demon army. He used the spell on both sides of the battlefield, aided in the flows of teron by the presence of Odin, who also took part in the massacre. It was a bloodbath! The warriors and the Heroes of Will began to roar with pride at the sudden turn of events. He heard a new chant, sung by the Alit'aren and Ael Tarael, their voices enhanced by Angel-Magic to carry to his height.

The Saviours are Reborn!

Their Sacrifice is Sworn!

The Water Dragon Soars!

The Fire Lion Roars!

The Shadow Wolf spreads his Claws!

Ho! The Heroes of Will Arise!

Ho! The Battle Angels rule the Skies!

The Red Lion Roars!

The Wolf spreads his Claws!

The Blue Water Dragon Soars!

He floated there, above the battle, watching the remaining demons attempt retreat; screaming in terror. Relief was overwhelming him, the voices calming his nerves despite the raging force of corruption. Despite the flows of Angel-Magic he contained it would take some time to be able to attack again, but the enemy was retreating. Rahkwel and Boli-Kuldr were fleeing back through Hordrin's Corridor as fast as their masses could squeeze through the gap, Ael Tarael harrying them with boulders of flame. To the south, the demons began to scream as they fled, throwing down weapons and trampling those that tried to remain in rank. Tarz and his riders continued to plough through the northern forces. They had almost reached the point where Wil fought alongside a handful of Heroes of Will, Tarz bringing his men to a halt before they came into range of Wil's attacks.

The northern army of demons scattered around Tarz's riders, fleeing north but also pressing east and west as they fled to avoid lightning bolts unleashed by the Alit'aren on horseback. Heavy cavalry flanked the wedge of wielders with lances to skewer Boli-Kuldr and Rahkwel that stood in their path. Tarz's Alit'aren were also using his same spell to turn the defensive lines into pools of dark blood. Demons exploded from the inside out, entrails spilling onto the earth, breastplates and armour shattering.

It is over! We've won!

Suddenly, the Angel-Magic left him!

Odin vanished into the clouds with a bolt of light and then Adem's wings began to fall apart into flakes of blue fire!

He fell!

He was hurtling towards the earth, towards a thick patch of demons still trying to defend their ground. If the fall didn't kill him, he would be cut to shreds by Boli-Kuldr blades! These thoughts raced through his mind as he sent to Arawn; I'm about to die!

A surge of teron flowed through him via his connection to Arawn! He saw spiked hammers, dark pikes and Boli-Kuldr armour below. All he could manage was a Shield-Spell, buffered by a large cushion of Air-Magic. He crashed into the earth; dust clouds blurred his vision as he lay on his back close to blacking out. The Shield-Magic was maintained, though standing seemed impossible, until the Shield-Spell was struck by Boli-Kuldr scythes and axes!

He surged to his feet, the Shield-Magic holding while the dust settled to reveal the black plated armour and hulking figures of bull and ram skulled Boli-Kuldr towering above him. They snarled as they took turns beating down upon the Shield-Spell that surrounded him now as a globe. The blades struck blue-white liquid-fire to freeze on impact, sending cracks through the Shield-Sphere. Then the Boli-Kuldr parted at the snake-like drawl of a voice that said, 'Leave Highlander to me.'

He saw a dark-cloaked rider on a shadow-steed. Rain pouring down the Shield-Spell made the figure appear translucent. The Souljhin climbed down from his horse slowly, drawing a blade of blood red fire as it glided towards him like a cobra. He drew his own sword, glowing pale blue and reflecting off the Shield-Magic. He feared a Souljhin blade may easily penetrate the barrier while his strength was so low.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

When Odin vanished, so did the entire link, cutting him off from that limitless flow of Angel-Magic. He was so drained from exertion his own ability to wield was faded almost to zero. He sought the Tar'deith to achieve a state of calm, his breathing slowed. He prepared to move into the forms, waiting for the Souljhin to strike before knowing which form to choose. The shadow raised its crimson sword; he raised his own to defend the initial strike.

Red and blue fire blurred into view, though it was not from the clash of blades he had expected. Hulking shadows and light appeared, Arawn slashing with his crimson blade to cut the Souljhin in half! Llew and Balor were there also. The three Battle Angels cut down the Boli-Kuldr and Nymloc that tried to surge towards him. Arawn hovered on wings of shadow, moving like a bolt of lightning to grasp Adem by the shoulders, lifting him as the Battle Angel launched into the sky. He saw Balor and Llew hacking down more demons below as the ground moved away from him, and the scattering demon forces swelled in his vision. Teron left him; his vision became dark. I will save you Jean. I promise.

***

Carl slashed again with his spear of lightning; cutting down demons with sheets of flame. Shadow Hounds and Spirit Wolves leapt and clawed at demon flesh, pulling down scores of Rahkwel and Nymloc, severing skulls and tearing out throats. The heavily pouring rain was a result of his connection with Odin via the Heart. Only Odin was strong enough to reverse a change in the weather controlled by Fendinn. It still took Carl's knowledge to undo the damage created, to force the change of seasons back into a cycle. Though he had succeeded, he was certain of it! Odin had confirmed the fact, while he fought on this killing field turning demon ranks into chunks of flesh and bone. The change in weather had also required the link between Adem, Carl and Wil, as well as their Battle Angels, joined with Odin in the Link.

The amount of Angel-Magic needed to change the weather had diminished the Magic of the Heart of Odin drastically, however. Carl had hoped that he would be able to keep the precious artefact, to utilise again in future battles of this scale, though it seemed the necessary fuel provided to defeat this enemy would drain the source.

He swept his spear sideways, red flames to turn Nymloc and Jacoulra to pillars of burning ash. The Heart of Odin was a kind of Resting Point, though it held only a portion of Odin's Powers, different to the Resting Points of other Battle Angels. This one was created to summon Odin for a battle such as this, but it was also created to be found by the Sons of Odin. Carl could already sense that some of the changes it created in his abilities; would be permanent, and some of those abilities would definitely be of use.

He moved with inhuman speed, spear of lightning blurring as he spun the weapon in wide arcs, flames bursting twenty-paces through demon ranks. Thousands fell screaming in flames! He suddenly realised his strength in teron was more than doubled! Adem was building the link, joining with more Ael Tarael and Alit'aren to increase his Angel-Magic. What was he up to? This was more than dangerous. Then he saw Adem's intention, the ground around him began to erupt in flames; blades of blue flame flying from Adem's fists; Odin also throwing down blasts of white fire that wiped out thousands of demons in a blazing dome!

He sensed Adem's rage; Jinn-Magic was surely corrupting him to irreparable damage. Then he witnessed Adem's contempt for evil, as he unleashed the most destructive spell ever created. Boli-Kuldr armour began to pop like crushed berries, heads exploding in dark sprays like ripe melons under a sledgehammer. Nymloc began to collapse by the tens of thousands, Rahkwel and Jacoulra exploding from the inside, their fetid entrails spilling onto the muddy earth as rain washed rivers of dark blood across the landscape! It was shocking to witness, even used against beasts as foul as this. Though he had to admit, Adem had been clever in deciding to make this move. The enemy were retreating!

He hurled lightning and fire at the backs of the demons that tried to flee east and west, as well as south, though the only ones still standing were hundreds of paces away now. The land surrounding him was a flood of demon corpses. Still there was the danger Adem so recklessly ignored, then he felt it, Angel-Magic left him!

He flew through the air to land on his face in the mud, without even a trickle of teron to cushion his fall. He stood slowly, first to his knees; then dug his crimson spear in the earth to steady himself as he rose to his feet. A moment later he was picked up by Math Mathonwy and carried into the sky, towards the platform of Odin's Stairs.

In his left hand he still clutched the blue stone, though the crystal was now cracked! It no longer glowed, the artefact was broken. Adem had risked all of their lives with that drastic move. He may have saved them, though the impact of Jinn-Magic upon his psyche would bring a storm-cloud in future days. Drawing too much Angel-Magic also resulted in the destruction of the Heart and a break in the link. Carl's strength was depleted. He felt nauseous from the corruption, the sensation like being dipped in rancid acid. As he neared the platform, he saw Dis Pater's hulking figure of shadows carrying Wil to safety on golden wings. When they were both on the platform Wil said, 'Adem fell! He was nearly taken by the enemy, but then rescued.'

Carl saw that Wil was also nearly ready to collapse from physical exertion. The Sons of Odin were out of this fight, and the Ael Tarael and Alit'aren who had been a part of Adem's link would also need time to recover.

'What do we do now?' Carl asked Orion, who stood close by with golden sword hanging from his right fist. The former king stared at the retreating demons, a fierce burning in his large dark eyes. Perhaps the rage of a King, or perhaps the flames of madness. 'The Heroes of Will can handle things from here, Carl Wilder,' Orion replied.

But Carl was unsure about that, there were still thousands of demons trying to regroup on the field. If the bulk of the retreating army decided to turn back and fight, they would be easily swept aside this time. 'We must harry them into full retreat!' Carl commanded. 'Wil, Hayley and Arig, you three will ride beside me. We'll use the Heroes and the heavy cavalry to sweep through the southern battlefield. I'll take the Ael Tarael with us to soften their ranks.' Then he turned to Orion again, as he gave further orders, telling him to defend the northern field, with the heavy cavalry and the force of rebels led by Rodriel Tarz. 'The Alit'aren should be able to do as much damage to the north, as our Battle Angels can achieve. Go!' Everyone began to rush towards the stairs, Elmira, Lydia and Tobin following Orion, as well as Prince Lune who had joined them on the platform when the battle began to turn in their favour. 'Make them see we will never accept defeat!' Carl shouted, as he climbed into his saddle and made his way towards the front lines.

Those outer defence lines glowed with the forms of men and women riding horses of light and shadows, the Ghosts of Legend. First King of the Nordics, Rodin Cloud-Walker sat his mount with his spear of blue fire slanted. He wore a shimmering pale blue robe worked with gold and emerald runes, crimson armour; dark hair tied in a long tail braided down his back, a golden crown on his brow. His eyes were crackling dark fire—evidently the madness was infecting him too—a hooked beak of a nose and chiselled cheeks and jaw. Light emanated from his form; his flesh changed from transparent to solidity with every breath.

Carl pointed his spear as he shouted, 'The path of Heroes is paved in blood and sacrifice! You shall be our shelter from this storm!' Lightning flared, twin bolts falling to strike the field in the distance. Carl roared; booting his altherin colt into a charge. The Heroes of Will roared like lions; they charged to take the lead and flank him. Some rode ahead on their enchanted steeds, to carve a path through the demon hordes, lightning bolts flaring like sabres to blast the enemy into oblivion. Angus and Math soared overhead; smashing head-on into a snarling pack of Boli-Kuldr to unleash their fury.

Arawn's Fire Lions had vanished, as well as Llew's wolves. Dis Pater swooped down beside his Brothers, the dark shadow slashing through demon bodies with his massive golden axe. Flame Crows burst from his form, swooping upon the enemy in dark crushing fists. Math's Shadow Hounds began to regroup where the Battle Angels fought, pushing down demons to tear out their throats; biting off skulls in ravenous gulps. Carl's forces charged towards that pack of dark armoured demons. Heavy cavalry flanked the Heroes as they ploughed into a pack of over five hundred of the beasts.

Lances tore through armour and flesh, Boli-Kuldr falling with massive wounds across their chests and skulls; trampled under the riders, hacked down by the blades and arrows of the Heroes. The magic of the Heroes was a blinding force that surrounded them, demon flesh sizzled and burst in horrid sprays, melted and incinerated. They broke free of the masses; then turned for a second charge. The Battle Angels still fought in the centre of the Boli-Kuldr pack. Druantia's tangling vines soon joined the battle, and in the distance a half dozen of her Green Men sprouted from the earth and began to club at the regrouping demons. Emerald energies burst from the impact of the clubs, taking form of Green Dwarves; hacking with burning axes, swords and spears. Ki'mera flowed in waves like comet tails.

It was a good start.

***

Adem woke in familiar chambers, Terese leaning over him wearing a perplexed scowl. She glowed with the unnatural light of one of the Heroes of Will. Adem assumed it was a temporary state of being. 'Are you alright?' she asked, when he began to sit upright. He waved her away and stood to make his way to Jean's bedside. She was still in a deep sleep, the rise and fall of her chest suggested shallow breathing. She was pale too, deathly pale. 'Do you have the cure?' Terese asked.

Adem reached into his pouch to pull forth the small gold box and asked one of the nearby Aldebrands to fetch him some gloves. When the dark-eyed man returned with blue-gloves worked with silver-scrollwork on the back, he pulled them onto his hands and opened the box to remove the golden bracelet. He fastened the device around Jean's left wrist with a clip at the end of the little dragon's snout. He stood ... and waited; his heart in his throat with the guilt that welled up inside him. How could he betray Jean's love and devotion? He deserved to suffer.

He also had a terrible headache. Jinn-Magic had been so strong while he held that enormous link, he'd felt that he was madder than ever before. His skull was burning with fever, the heat of insanity. The sensation was familiar, like an unwelcome guest returning to dine. He knew a deep scowl was building on his brow, as he fought the illness that crept into his mind. He was descending into that pit of flames once more, his heart a cold stone.

Wake up Jean, please?

'This is your cure?' Terese asked with a touch of scorn. 'Why won't she wake then?'

'I was assured it would work,' Adem said. They waited, moments that seemed to stretch into infinity.

***

Jean stood at the bar pouring another shot for the grumpy man with the large crooked nose. He glared at her. He'd been bothering her for the entire five-hour shift ... or was it ten hours? She'd been working more and more lately, it seemed like being here was endless except for ... something wasn't right about this place ... no, just her imagination. The shot, tequila, she handed it to him; he grimaced before he slammed it down; wiped his stubbly chin.

The tunes were so loud it was hard to hear the orders. It was a double scotch on the rocks; two with cola, and another shot for the grumpy one. He held up two fingers, but she only poured him one, and waited till she'd made the other drinks before serving him. Her boss would fire her if she allowed another patron to get wasted. She liked her job; this club was cool. The music was always a bit before her time, but she knew these old tracks well, and her co-workers were nice people, especially Adem. But she wasn't seeing him anymore; he'd cheated on her with ... what was her name again? The Princess, yes that's right, that's what they called her. But why did they call her that again? Was it because they all thought of her as a spoilt little tramp? And where was Adem? She hadn't seen him at all tonight. Deep down she still had feelings for him. She groaned before leaning over to wipe up some spillage, then she signalled Tobin to get the grumpy one away from the bar.

Tobin was a tall bouncer; he leaned forward to listen as Jean told him, 'That one has had enough. He keeps giving me creepy stares, too.'

'I'll take care of it, Jean,' Tobin said, in a dark suit and tie with a blue cotton shirt, this was a respectable club where everyone had a uniform. His girlfriend Lydia was collecting glasses by the dance floor, strobe and coloured lights flaring in the darkness as the bass kicked in. She brought a tray to the bar and asked Jean, 'What's with the creep?' Jean rolled her eyes and leaned over to shout, 'I've never seen him here before, but if he approaches me again; he's out of here!'

'I'll tell Tobin to kick him out now if you like?' Lydia wore black leather pants, tight fitting, and a blue blouse half-top tied at the centre of her breasts.

'No, it's fine, leave it. Just one of those guys that make me uncomfortable.' Jean wore fish-net stockings, red, a blue mini-skirt and a white blouse. Her hair was tied up in a braid with a red bow. Lydia's was in twin braids tied with blue ribbons. That was their specially chosen uniforms. Elmira's was identical to Lydia's. The boss was also kind of a sleaze!

A moment later she turned around to see the grumpy one standing at the bar and glaring at her again. 'That's it, buddy, you're gone!' she shouted, as she glared back; then waved for the other head bouncer. Orion was there in a few quick strides through the crowd, suit and tie with a green silk shirt. The two men had been cautious around Jean lately since she ... what did she do? That's right; she had to punish them for ... for what? For something. Her memory was slipping tonight. Maybe she was tired.

Orion grabbed the man in the dark coat by the scruff of the neck and hauled him across the floor. The man struggled, and Orion was knocked and sent flying across the room! People began to scream and rush for the exit as the grumpy man became a figure of shadows, a blood red blade in its fist, with a golden mask like some kind of demon. The figure began to stride towards the bar. Jean was terrified, she screamed, but the music drowned out her voice.

Tobin was rushing towards the figure, he lunged forwards as the ... High-Servant, that's what they called him ... swung a fist to send the tall bouncer flying in the opposite direction. Lydia and Elmira stepped onto the dance floor. Jean's eyes bulged as the two women raised fists that flared with blue lightning. Both women threw blue bolts at the back of the High-Servant, the figure turned to regard them a moment; and then both women were knocked flying backwards by some unseen force.

The DJ kept playing, the music thumping as the High-Servant continued to flow towards Jean. She thought of running, though the crowds were still thick and frantic, she wouldn't get far. Then she heard something in the music, the melody changed, became stronger, and she felt that strength flow into her, as she remembered a name ... the Daughter of Thor!

She raised both hands and white lightning flew forth to blast the High-Servant, frying his cloak and pushing him back, one step at a time. She cried a name, 'Tanriel!' A figure of red and blue fire appeared in the air above the bar. Crimson spears flew to strike a shield that appeared around the High-Servant. The spears punched into the shield, flames erupted around the dome and within. She remembered now; this place was not real. The real world was in ... Kismeria ... the music changed again, as the coloured lights and strobe filled her vision, light flared all around her, wrapping her in its pale glow ...

***

Adem watched as Jean's hand began to move, fingers drawing into a fist! 'She's moving!' he said with elation, as Terese gasped in awe. He took her hand, and said, 'Jean, can you hear me?'

Her hand gripped his own, hard, then she ripped free of his grip and raised the hand to cover her mouth, as she gave a loud yawn, her eyes fluttering, then opening! Adem hoped it was just a reflex when she'd pulled free of his hand, though when her eyes rested on him, he saw her contempt for him burning blue. Terese moved to sit beside Jean, touching her brow and saying, 'He saved your life, Jean. This is no time for losing your temper. You forgave him, remember?'

'I'm so sorry, Jean,' he said, as Terese turned to face him and both women glared with burning gazes. 'Save your apologies, Adem Highlander, you have saved her, and she will forgive you. Though you have broken her trust, and that is something from which she may never recover. She needs rest for now, and hot bread and soup.' She turned to Jean to say, 'You must be famished.'

Jean pushed back the sheets to her waist, she wore a crimson silk coat and skirt, and she sat upright to expose white stockinged thighs, that she moved to hang over the bedside. 'What are you doing?' Terese asked.

'We must join the battle,' Jean said with strained determination, and then she pushed Terese's sheltering hand aside, and stood on legs that trembled with frailty. Terese wore a scandalised expression, as she snapped, 'You can hardly stand, girl! You're not going anywhere!'

'Our friends will die without our help,' Jean replied. 'Tanriel says there is little time to save them.' She then moved to the chest at the foot of her bed and began to draw forth her boots and weapons. Terese moved to take Jean by the arm as she said, 'I won't let you go, Jean.'

'I think she may be right, Terese,' Adem agreed. 'We cannot abandon them. It was a vast demon horde. They were retreating before I lost consciousness, though Arawn insists there is still a need to fight.'

'We'll send another legion to reinforce their ranks,' Terese suggested.

'There is no time for that!' Jean argued, pulling on her right-leg crimson-leather boot. 'We must go now, via Adem's teleport ability. You, me and Adem, that is all we will need.' She fastened her bow case over her back and began to buckle her sword belt to her waist. Terese made that familiar tsking sound; and then threw her hands in the air as she said, 'What point is there in arguing? You'll do it even if I forbid you!'

***

Wil slashed at the skull of a bull horned Nymloc, the blazing red eyes of the beast blurred in his vision as his golden axe cleaved through its jaw. The creature fell, as he planted the axe in the chest of a Jacoulra wielding a large scythe. Ikiel Bloodhammer, a Hero of the Harp; blocked the scythe attack with his crimson blade. Ikiel smashed the creature's skull to send it to its knees; other Heroes set it alight with arrows. Hayley rode close to his right, throwing globes of flame with her right hand as she clutched the reins in her left. He sensed her strength was draining too; she would need blood to replenish her vitality before long. Many of her personal guard all carried a full gourd to provide for her if needed. The thunderous hooves of the heavy cavalry swept past them as he slashed again at a ram horned Nymloc, the claws of the beast reaching to pull him from his horse. He booted the creature in the chest after cracking its skull in a spray of dark blood. He was so drained in Angel-Magic; he could not create a single flame.

Dis Pater and Bran were hacking through demons in the distance. Wil and his warriors were attempting to reach them to aid their onslaught. His courage sank when Dis Pater and Bran suddenly returned to his weapons in a flare of aqua and golden light. They had lost a vital key to defeating this demon horde. Math Mathonwy and Angus also returned to their Resting Points, leaving Carl also completely useless against these foes. The enemy began to surge in around them, roaring in their strange demon tongue, the Boli-Kuldr raising scythe shaped blades and dark axes. Then the Souljhin began to appear, the crowds of dark armoured bodies parting to reveal three shadow-cloaked figures mounted on dark steeds.

The twenty or more Heroes began to flank Carl and Wil, as well as Hayley. The bulk of their forces were surrounded by a larger demon horde further north, Ael Tarael and Alit'aren wielding lightning and flames to push back their attackers. The enemy had managed to divide their numbers, pressing in around them to crush them with muscle and steel. The Souljhin drew blades of flame and moved their steeds forward at a slow trot. Boli-Kuldr snarled like hungry wolves.

It was then that Wil noticed the immortal man who Carl had rescued from the portal of Odin's Stairs. The man in dark-blue-armour and a tattered grey- coat raised his fist—riding a white horse a few ranks behind Carl—and flames burst from his hand, emerald, aqua, crimson and golden beams. The Boli-Kuldr shielded their eyes as the Souljhin horses halted in their tracks. Then something astounding happened ... Everything began to move in reverse! The Souljhin horses began to trot backwards, the Boli-Kuldr also retreating though in an unnatural way that reminded Wil of watching a program in rewind.

Who was this man?

Wil watched in awe as the swarms of demons were swept away by the reversal spell, while Wil and Hayley and all in their circle were able to witness the miracle unfolding. The man's fist flared again, and flames erupted from the earth to spray the Boli-Kuldr and Souljhin, only these flames moved in real time. Wil raised his axe and shouted to his warriors; 'Retreat!'

The light still glowed in the man's fist, and the burning demons moved in slow-motion, allowing time for their horses to bolt to safety. When they arrived at Odin's Stairs and moved behind the front lines of defenders, Wil looked to Carl with a raised eyebrow. Carl simply shrugged his shoulders. He appeared just as baffled by the event.

Chapter 20

Falling Back

Tairark Vampire-King stood on the precipice of dark stone, that looked out over the edge of the great pit in the heart of Kerak'Otozi, the Resting Point of the High-Jinn. For the first time he could remember—at least since becoming one of the Hex-Warlords—Tairark was trembling with fear. The High-Jinn was furious with him. He had failed in his attempts to destroy the Sons of Odin, again, and that had been his last opportunity to prove his worth. But perhaps there would be another chance granted. He hoped for it; fearing his fate, an eternity enslaved in the Pits of Hell. Behind him stood Kelveroth Demonlord, still reeking of smoke from his recent ordeal against Carl Wilder. Kelveroth had also failed, which perhaps gave Tairark some leverage. If he could convince the High-Jinn to take Kelveroth's life, and spare his own—

Flames erupted from the deep pits below, a thick cylinder of fire bursting through the great funnel of stone, altering in colour, Angel-Magic of the Great Angels, revitalising the High-Jinn for the time of the Return. Though Tairark feared he would not live to see that day. He waited on the High-Jinn's commands.

Torkhan also stood behind him, along with Harkrost, eyes of flame behind golden masks, figures of cloaked shadows. They were the two who had aided him in his confrontation against the Sons of Odin at Morgrahl Kordahn. They too had failed, though he was almost certain that the blame would fall at his feet. The Hex-Warlords were not vital to the High-Jinn's plans, they were expendable like any other tool. His kind could always be replaced, there were many below him who would do anything to take his place.

He suddenly sensed the presence of others also strong in Jinn-Magic, and he turned to see Calliestra Shadow-Heart, dark eyed with flowing dark hair, a true beauty, her pouted lips suggested she would also face judgement this day. But it was the two male Hex-Keepers who he had sensed, also standing on the ledge of stone behind him. Two more of Calliestra's kind, one was Baidel; hook nosed with dark eyes, the other was Crelvar, pale eyes and a flowing white beard. They sheathed their forms in shadows and light, though he saw their shining breastplates beneath the effects. If so many of the Hex-Keepers had been summoned, perhaps this meant the High-Servants were being eliminated at this meeting. Or perhaps the High-Jinn would order them to serve under the lower ranking generals? Despite his disgust at the thought of the latter, it gave him hope of survival.

He waited, as sweat began to bead on his brow. Then the High-Jinn spoke to his mind, pain filled his flesh like thousands of white-hot needles. His mind was aflame as he heard the words; TAIRARK, YOU MISERABLE INCOMPETENT! YOU HAVE FAILED ME FOR THE LAST TIME! ENJOY YOUR ETERNITY OF SUFFERING! Tairark wished to plead forgiveness, but he was swept from the platform on a fierce wind that sucked him down into the depths of the tunnel. As he fell, his flesh began to melt under the heat of the rising flames. He screamed in agony as his life force began to fade. He would die slowly, the final gift of the High-Jinn. As he fell, he began to wonder what his life may have turned out like, if he had still served the forces of good. He wailed as his flesh was flayed from his bones. Still his spirit lived on; still he fell, into the flames of Hell.

***

Calliestra's heart was in her stomach after seeing Tairark sucked down to the pits of Hell. She began to panic that they would all pay for their failures. She glanced sideways to Crelvar; the fool appeared unshaken by the event, brimming with confidence that he would be promoted no doubt! She was not so blind to the displeasure of the High-Jinn. She began to sweat from the heat of the rising flames. Baidel also appeared confident of rising in the ranks; the pair of them would soon feel the brunt of Jinn-Fendinn's fury. She waited on the commands that would assure her of continued life. The High-Jinn then spoke, to each of their minds, though the sound seemed to erupt from the column of fire. REMEMBER WHAT YOU HAVE SEEN HERE THIS DAY! YOU LIVE TO SERVE ME! MY COMMAND IS ABSOLUTE!

THESE ARE MY ORDERS!

***

Carl watched the Boli-Kuldr and Rahkwel hordes swarm back towards the defence lines, surrounding Odin's Stairs. Their forces were still split in two, each half guarding one side of the Stairs, as well as the heavy cavalry, Heroes of Will and Ael Tarael and Alit'aren who took part in charges. Tarz still held the northern side, visible from the raised platform that Carl and Wil had returned to. Tarz was making sweeps through the northern field, dispatching demons with Angel-Magic. Ael Tarael on that side of the Stairs were hurling balls of lightning to cut down demons that got between them and Tarz's men. Keldaran reinforcements added to the carnage to the north, while the southern fields were beginning to swarm with demons again, with little to stop them, other than occasional heavy cavalry charges, led by the Heroes of Will.

Most of the demons had retreated. Carl's hopes were riding on an escape plan. A few thousand Boli-Kuldr and over a thousand Rahkwel were pressing towards the defence lines. They could be held off with Alit'aren Shield-Magic and hacked down slowly, as long as the Shield-Spells were maintained. Carl watched as archers filled the sky with dark shafts to rain down upon the front demon ranks, cutting off limbs and punching through breastplates. The Boli-Kuldr lines behind them roared and began a charge, lightning struck in two-dozen places; demon flesh exploding in bright flares. The Ael Tarael were tiring, soon they would be unable to create a spark of flame. The lightning broke up the charge, Alit'aren Shield-Spells springing up and swords moving in a blur of motion as dark-armoured demons staggered forward. Steel blades clashed; demons roared as they fell with gaping wounds.

Adem and Jean appeared in a flare of blue flame, standing on the platform with Terese Sapphire-Sword, shining with the light of enchantment. Arig also still glowed as he unleashed waves of flame from his bow. Orion and Tobin were there also; their wives still wielding lightning though they were also nearly drained. Prince Lune also stood behind those four, with Aldebrands and Ael Tarael at his side. Adem and Jean cried the names of their Battle Angels, Anwen and Tanriel appeared on golden and crimson wings, hovering ten feet above Jean. Fire Hawks swooped upon the demons; Tanriel throwing crimson spears that exploded into sheets of burning orange. Arawn, Llew and Balor soared from the sky on wings of flame, scattering Boli-Kuldr ranks when they landed ahead of the defence lines. They hacked through demon skulls with ferocious bloodlust, wedges of glowing sentinels rising around them to slew a path of demon flesh falling in sizzling chunks. Lightning bolts of bright ruby launched from the Battle Angel and sentinel blades, sheets of flame vaporized flesh and bone; ki'mera flowed amongst floating burning ash.

***

Adem was barely able to stand. He still held onto a trickle of teron, though it would barely be enough to create a decent Shield-Spell, nothing that could withstand an attack with Angel-Magic. Then his hopes fled when he saw two shadows appear in the sky, a warp of Air-Magic revealing their cloaked forms. The High-Servants pointed red blades towards him ... then something happened inside Adem's mind. It began when Carl found the Heart of Odin, that much Angel-Magic had altered him in a strange way.

Adem thought of a Shield-Spell, bolts of flame struck that Shield-Magic, made from a new source of power that came from Adem's imagination. It was a Shield-Spell of bullet proof glass two-feet-thick, he thought of it ... and the Shield-Magic materialized! Bolts of flame bounced off the Shield-Spell like a red claw. He wasn't certain what the material was truly, only that it had the same capacity to defend as a Shield of Air-Magic. The funny thing was, he didn't need to use Angel-Magic at all!

He was crouching when the bolts struck, the High-Servants tried again to break the barrier, claws of fire striking an invisible wall. Adem had a new thought; dredging gold and other precious metals from the earth. The metals moved in liquid form to take the shape of two Golden Soldiers standing eight-feet-tall. On the arms of these giant figures he placed Gatling guns, loaded with gold bullets six-inches long—he wasn't sure how he loaded those bullets with gun powder, he just thought, and it was. Flames burst from the spinning machine-gun-arms. The weapons roared like little dragons! The bullets struck the shields of the High-Servants, hammering them backwards from the force of impact.

Llew, Arawn and Balor flew to surround the two Hex-Warlords, blades of fire clashing in crimson blasts; sending out shockwaves. Adem kept the two Golden Soldiers at his side, and then he created more on the front lines. This time creating the beings without drawing the gold from the earth, once he made the first two, the rest appeared simply via his will. He loaded their weapons with lasers; cutting down demons as a roar of terror ran through their ranks. Within minutes the fields were covered with corpses piled high; Boli-Kuldr and Rahkwel torn to charred clumps. There was still some regrouping to the north. He imagined—and a great golden scaled dragon swooped down out of the clouds, soaring over the northern fields, breathing golden fire that swept through demon ranks in a raging conflagration.

The Keldarans and Tarz's forces began to head north, they were retreating. Adem heard Carl shouting, 'Retreat!' Those on the platform began to descend the staircase to join the southern force. Adem ran beside Jean, though she would not take his hand when he offered it. When they were mounted and heading towards the front lines, they were flanked by the Heroes and heavy cavalry. They rode at a steady gallop to clear the fields as fast as possible. Most of the horses were altherin, so they could move much faster if they had to, but for now they focused on staying in formation. The defenders of the northern half of the Stairs were also close behind. Horns were sounded to signal the retreat, and they allowed time for the other warriors to catch up.

Adem was thinking they might be free and safe when two more cloaked shadows appeared in the sky, though Adem sensed these two were not as powerful as the High-Servants. The fact that they could fly meant they were two of the male Hex-Keepers. The one with a white beard raised his fists; emerald lightning flew towards Adem and Jean. Adem thought ... Wall; a Shield-Spell of bullet-proof-glass blocked the strike. He thought ... Dragons! A green and a red scaled serpent swooped out of the air, the green clutching the bearded man in its jaws, the red-scaled-dragon extending claws to clutch the other shadow cloaked figure in a burst of speed. He didn't understand where the beasts came from, though he knew they would fall apart after moving some distance. There were limits to his new ability.

***

Jean watched in shock as the dragons appeared; clutching the two Hex-Keepers from the skies. Where had Adem learnt to create such creatures? Tanriel explained it was a part of the Prophecies of the Blue Water Dragon, that he would be able to create weapons of might, purely from his thought. She explained it was the Heart of Odin that had made this change possible.

They rode at a steady gallop, covering more ground in short order than a mortal horse could travel when pushed to its limits. They were approaching a large ditch in the landscape when a woman appeared in the sky. Her dress was white flame; hair like dark silk. Her dark eyes triggered a memory in Jean's subconscious.

It was the woman who had disguised herself as Verielle, and won her trust, before betraying her with that tainted bracelet. She realised now, when seeing the woman's true face, that this was the woman from her dream, the dream she had the night before meeting the Sons of Odin. Tanriel confirmed the woman's true name was Calliestra, one of the Hex-Keepers who served under the High-Servants. Calliestra raised her palms, and red lightning flew from her fingertips.

They hit another Shield-Spell created by Adem. She fought hard to stay on the saddle. She was too weak to create a sufficient Shield-Spell of her own.

The red lightning fractured the Shield-Magic on the outside, then a beast rose from the earth beneath Calliestra, a giant worm shaped creature with bronze scales and amber eyes! It clutched Calliestra in its jaws, pulling her down into the earth. Adem was becoming more powerful than Jean had ever thought possible. The idea of stopping him, if his madness took over, became difficult to imagine. The horses thundered forwards, Heroes of Will flanking them with heavy cavalry. The Heroes glowed with the light of the Everlasting, sending bolts of flame in blazing arcs; obliterating demons that stood in their path. They were going to escape.

Chapter 21

To Stand and Fight

Orion clutched the Harp of Souls, as the Heroes of Will returned to their Resting Point. Rodin Cloud-Walker raised his blue spear, before he vanished into the Harp. The Heroes roared before each became a pale vapour that flowed into the sacred artefact. Despite the ki'mera gained from the battle, the Heroes needed rest to recover from such extended times free from the Harp.

They were moving at a pace beyond mortal horses now, the land moving in a blur. Elmira rode beside him with Tobin and Lydia close behind.

The landscape changed before his eyes, from tan brown crusts to lush green fields, as they approached the walls of Korhad. They slowed when the horns of the watchtowers sounded; allowing the horses to move at a trot.

Orion placed the Harp in a saddle bag and clutched the reins with both hands, guiding his dark stallion towards the fortress gates. 'We were lucky that time,' he said to Tobin as they formed a line outside the city walls.

'Was it luck; or destiny?' Tobin asked.

'We will need an escape plan,' Orion replied. 'The High-Servants were determined to destroy the Sons this time.'

'Do we continue to fall back,' Tobin asked, 'or do we dig in our heels and face the enemy?'

'I fear we must retreat,' Lydia said. 'That last encounter was a death trap.'

'We must consider abandoning our armies,' Elmira put in. 'The Sons and the Daughter will endure so long as we are there at their side.'

'The White Snow Fox may not require our assistance,' Orion said, before his wife cut him off, saying, 'You will serve at my side, and do as I command, husband.' Orion bowed his head in submission. He knew that to argue would inflict a punishment worse than he wished to consider.

***

Adem felt his condition was beyond repair, though perhaps Healing-Magic and genuine rest would aid his recovery. As he moved through the gates of Korhad, and under the second portcullis, he wondered if Jean would ever forgive him. He glanced at her, when they entered the inner courtyard, and her eyes were direct, gazing ahead like a warrior of virtue. He asked her if she was well, and she replied, 'I'm as well as I may be.' A fitting response; given his betrayal.

'Will you join me for supper?' he asked.

'I'll be washing my hair, then turning in early,' Jean replied, with pouted lips. She did not look pleased.

'I'm sorry, Jean. If I could change the past, I would. But you need to know, I never forgot how much I love you.'

'You are sorry, Adem Highlander. Perhaps in time you will be less sorry.'

'As you wish,' he said after a sigh. He rode the rest of the way in silence; Jean left him at the Royal Stables and swiftly climbed the palace steps with Terese at her side. Adem waited for Carl and Wil. Hayley, Tobin, Lydia, Elmira and Orion also flanked them as they entered the palace. What worried him most was that link; that had brought on such extreme corruption from teron. He wondered if he would last the week without losing his mind. His Battle Angels had returned to their Resting Points. The High-Servants and the Hex-Keepers had not shown themselves since they left the battlefield. Things were back to normal, for the short term, though, when he arrived at the Royal Dining Hall with his entourage—

Isabelle stood in the dining hall, in a shimmering crimson gown, worked with pearls and sapphires upon the plunging neckline. She looked truly delicious, and he immediately felt guilty for thinking it. Her large dark eyes fixed on him, burning with passion and rage at the same time. 'You said you would return to me,' Isabelle said in a dangerous tone. An angry princess was always something to be avoided. 'You said we would see each other again when you finished your mission. I waited, and then I learnt that you'd returned to the White Snow Fox. I understand there was some ... urgency. I am willing to overlook this breach of trust, considering the circumstances.'

'Isabelle, we really need to talk.' He held his hands out at his sides in a calming gesture, but she pointed a finger at him directly, and said, 'You will learn that I do not allow men to twist the truth when they speak it to me. You will eventually understand that I will not permit a fault in your duty to me.' Carl stepped forward and said; 'The situation became ... complicated, Princess Isabelle. Though, I wonder, how did you arrive here so fast?' Adem silently thanked his friend for having the initiative to change the subject.

Isabelle raised a pointed black eyebrow, as she replied, 'I rode with my retainers as fast as the winds would take me.' She gestured to the two tall immortals standing several paces away. One had long dark hair and eyes, the other golden hair and eyes of pale blue. Both wore dark-leathers and crimson-breastplates, and both had hands hovering above their sword hilts, as if anxious of a fight breaking out. Only Aldebrands could be so paranoid in the midst of a tempestuous female. 'The horses should recover with a few weeks rest,' the dark eyed one commented, which brought a scandalized look from Isabelle. The man bowed his head in humility. Then the worst possible thing that could happen occurred. Jean entered the room.

***

Jean viewed the Royal Dining Hall with an air of disapproval, her disdain apparent for the woman who stood at the far end of the room. The hall was long, with vaulted ceilings of pale stone, hunting tapestries lining the grey brick walls, though her attention was all on the Ruhalden Princess. Jean wore a pale blue silk gown, chosen to compliment the modest diamond earrings and necklace provided by Prince Lune, all in an attempt to win back Adem's affections. She wondered how long she would string him along like a lost puppy.

Isabelle was shockingly beautiful, much to her dismay, large-dark-eyes and silken-black-hair falling to her waist. Jean's hair was in her usual braid, Terese's a dark braid. Terese wore an emerald dining gown, studded with small pearls and gems. They would have made an impressive entrance, and Jean held her spine erect as she faced off against the scowl upon Isabelle's visage. 'It seems I have arrived at a bad time,' Jean started with. 'Perhaps I should return later when Lord Adem has had sufficient time to sow his oats.'

'Jean, it's not like that,' Adem said awkwardly, before Isabelle spoke over him, saying, 'Yes, I think that would be best, Daughter of Thor.' Jean almost scoffed at the audacity; to use Jean's Holy title with such frivolity while requesting obedience from this spoilt brat. She considered at that moment that her role as leader would allow her to discipline this provocative girl, though she kept her temper in check as she said, 'On second thought, perhaps this is a good time to break the ice on a subject that needs clarifying. Lord Adem has given himself to both of us, so it seems prudent to ask, who will he choose for his steadfast commitment?'

'I agree entirely,' Isabelle said. 'It would not be fair to allow either one of us to feel that we are being misguided by untrue emotions.'

'I agree, princess,' Jean said, in a careful tone.

'Please don't turn this into an argument,' Adem said, which earned him harsh glares from both Jean and Isabelle, while Lydia and Elmira cupped hands over their smirks.

The two immortals beside Isabelle appeared restless, hands above sword hilts. Jean was flanked by six of her own personal guard—all Immortal Aldebrands—one of them holding her enchanted sword, another held her emerald bow. Now was not a time to be anywhere without her Battle Angels close at hand. She felt confident she could handle this little tramp if things got out of hand.

***

Isabelle held her spine very straight, standing as tall as she could muster. The Daughter of Thor's presence had unsettled her to some extent, though she was the Ruhalden Princess! She would not show the slightest sign of intimidation. 'You must realise that the relationship between Lord Adem and me is quite serious,' she began. 'We have formed a special bond, something that cannot be undone by prophecies and duty.'

'You make a fine argument,' Jean replied. 'What do you propose as a solution to this ... indiscretion?' Isabelle controlled her nerves, to hide a scandalised expression. The sheer nerve of this woman to insinuate that her relationship with Adem was nothing more than a passionate affair!

'I suggest we allow Adem Highlander to choose.'

'Perfect,' Jean agreed. 'Well, Adem, what do you have to say?' Isabelle saw that Adem was displaying the behaviours of a cornered mouse. He looked like he might collapse, either from exhaustion or from panic! Despite this, she decided to press him further on this issue, asking, 'Well, Adem, what of it?'

'I made a terrible mistake,' Adem began, before Isabelle shouted in outrage, 'A mistake was it?' Her two Aldebrands unsheathed their blades, one glowing crimson; the other pale blue. The six Aldebrands flanking the Snow Fox drew blades in a sound of sliding steel, as Adem shouted, 'We can work this out as adults!' But Isabelle's rage would not be subdued so easily. 'How dare you call our relationship a mistake?'

'I want a chance to explain myself,' Adem pleaded, as the Aldebrands stared each other down like wolves waiting to strike. This brought more humour to the lips of the former Queens of Tarvel and Nordhel, shielding their mirth behind cupped hands that did not smother their giggles. Their husbands appeared to be on the brink of action; yet holding to the wishes of their leader.

Jean smiled also, then she raised a hand expressively, as she said, 'Adem is right, there is no need for violence. This can be settled with calm and reason. The Blue Water Dragon is clearly conflicted. Let us agree that when it comes to a pretty face, he loses all sense of rationale and common decency.' Isabelle was surprised to feel a smile blossom on her own face at that comment. It struck so very close to the truth. She suddenly realised she very much admired this woman who was destined to save the world. The White Snow Fox would make a great leader; she was strong willed and courageous, though also light-hearted in defeat. Isabelle would have Adem Highlander. Ultimately, this woman would have to face that. 'You make a clever point, Snow Fox. I apologise for my rudeness. Perhaps we should adjourn to more discreet surroundings to discuss this issue further.'

'I would be delighted, princess.' Why did Jean Fairsythe have to refer to Isabelle's title with such simplicity? 'Let's go then,' Isabelle said, with a wide grin, and then she began to glide towards the woman who she would challenge to her dying day. They were equals, but Isabelle would always find a way to have the upper hand.

***

Adem breathed a sigh of relief, when the two women left the hall with their entourage. However, he also felt the familiar scowl creeping onto his face, as he considered what they would discuss. What was he going to do? He loved Jean, more than any other woman, but he sometimes thought he loved Isabelle just as much. He began to wonder if he would survive the wrath of those two women, once they knew the other halves of the truth. He had to focus on the bigger picture; the enemy was determined to destroy them, more so now than they had ever been. They would return, soon, and he would need to be ready for them. Despite this urgency, his rumbling stomach allowed him to sit and pick at the feast of roasts, fruits and breads. There were cheeses too; there were always cheeses at a Kismerian banquet.

The others took their places along the polished oak table, Carl, Wil and Hayley to his right, Orion, Tobin, Elmira and Lydia across from them. He made a sandwich of duck and cheese, in dark rye, and sat chewing, as conversations started up. Carl and Wil spoke about the battle, discussing the time they'd both combined their flesh with the spirits of their Battle Angels. It was a remarkable discovery; though they both seemed convinced they would not achieve this feat again, without finding another source of Angel-Magic equal to the Heart of Odin.

Tobin and Orion spoke in whispers, only discernible to their immortal ears, and those of their wives, who also whispered to one another. His own hearing had improved slightly, apparently as a result of working with teron. His sight was better too; he noticed more details even without Angel-Magic in his veins, patterns, colour vibrancy, textures on wood and stone.

What of the enemy? Why had they become so desperate? They were obviously under new orders; eliminate the Sons at all costs. Why would Jinn-Fendinn risk such a defeat by leading them to the Heart? Perhaps the idea wasn't to destroy the Sons of Odin, but to push them into retreat, each time forcing them to wield Angel-Magic. The result of this over time would surely also push the Sons into irreversible madness. That had to be the answer, though perhaps there were two agendas on Fendinn's list. Perhaps he feared the Sons enough to try to wipe them out, or alternatively he could twist their minds until they became his willing servants. Adem shuddered at the very thought of it. He would never betray these people. So long as he held true to his morals, he would always know the difference between good and evil.

Hold true to your faith, Adem Highlander, Arawn sent. You are the Dragon. You have the power to destroy evil forever. The last was echoed by Balor and Llew.

'What do we do now?' Carl asked him.

'We do whatever is necessary,' Adem replied. 'We also need Tarz and his men. We could reason with Jean about a truce between us and them. So far I feel everyone has been expecting us to lead them to victory.'

'I fear another attack is imminent.'

'I agree. The guard is on full alert, though they may infiltrate these walls. My plan is to defend and retreat, fight and fall back again. It seems the only way to survive.' An Aldebrand entered the room, in dark armour and red boots. Caladen was his name, with long dark hair tied in a tail. This one had the look of a startled panther, as he said, 'There is someone here to see you, Adem Highlander.' Adem glanced at the man to ask, 'Who is it?'

'He says his name is ... Tairark Vampire-King.' Adem sprang to his feet, as startled murmurs filled the room. Tobin and Orion unsheathed their blades; Lydia and Elmira were also on their feet. Caladen now looked like a cat that had stumbled upon a pride of lions. 'There is no cause for alarm,' Caladen explained. 'This man, if he is Tairark, does not take his usual form. He also says that ... he is here to make peace.' Adem thought his eyes might fall out of his head in shock.

'What does he look like?' Carl asked.

'He appears ... not himself today,' Caladen replied, his expression revealed amusement. 'Shall I show him in?'

'Be ready for a trap!' Adem shouted. 'The enemy could strike at any moment! Orion, Tobin; take your wives and protect Jean and ...' he stumbled over the name, '... and Isabelle. Go now!' The four left the room swiftly, leaving Adem, Carl, Wil and Hayley with Caladen and the three other Aldebrands, who stood along the far wall. Those three also had their blades drawn, ready for anything. 'I trust he is well guarded?' Adem asked in a more controlled tone, to which Caladen responded with a careful nod. Adem was fastening his bow case straps when he said, 'Show him in then.'

Caladen called, 'Enter!' Two rows of Aldebrands began to file into the large space at the front end of the hall. Twelve Alit'aren entered in all, with Aldebrands and soldiers filing in to spread along the tables and around Adem and his companions. When close to forty people filled the room, two more Aldebrands in blue armour, and six Ael Tarael, led a tall immortal with short white hair and grey eyes. He wore simple attire, dark coat and trousers with brown leather boots, a silver hilted sword at his waist in a plain brown leather scabbard.

'This man could not possibly be Tairark Vampire-King,' Adem said. 'Who are you really?' He knew it couldn't be Tairark in disguise, although this man was exceptionally strong in Angel-Magic. He was not wielding at this time—due to the Shield-Trap held by the Ael Tarael—nor did Adem sense any resonance of Angel-Spells. So, it was not a spell to imitate tanned skin and an appearance of health. The skin of the Hex-Warlords looked similar to pale grey stone, and his eyes did not glow like lanterns. Despite these facts the man said, 'I am who I claim to be. I come in peace. I wish to reconcile with my people, and to assist the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.'

'That claim is ridiculous!' Adem exclaimed. The imposter's thick grey moustache bristled with a cautious expression. 'Although I sense your strength in Angel-Magic, you could not possibly be who you say you are.'

'I understand your confusion,' said the man, who spoke in a deep tone typical of immortal men, rather than the rumbling thunderous voices of the High-Servants. 'But I have died and been reborn. I do not know why Jinn-Fendinn has chosen to give me new life. I only know that he killed me when he was finished with my service. I am an outcast amongst my kind; I will be hunted by them and tortured for eternity before they kill me again. My only option is to seek your protection.'

'You ask for my what?' Adem shouted in outrage and amazement. 'If it truly is you, you are responsible for the curse upon terael! You also turned Wil's wife into a vampire!'

Wil shouted, 'For that, I will gladly decapitate you!'

'I must warn you that you are all in great danger,' the man said. 'Even now the enemy plots to infiltrate this keep and slaughter innocents.'

'How do you know this, if you no longer serve them?' Carl asked.

'I have my sources. I can help you.'

'When will they attack?' Adem asked.

'At any moment,' he replied, which brought startled murmurs from most men in the room. Blades were unsheathed. Aldebrands began that familiar talent to stare in every direction at once.

'How will they achieve this?' Carl asked.

'Souljhin will infiltrate the keep, hundreds of them.' The guards and soldiers began to shout, in the room and the hallway. Orders were shouted mostly, though some were cries of sheer panic. 'An attack is imminent!' they cried. 'Sound the alarm! Protect the White Snow Fox!' The six Ael Tarael showed their terror. An army of Souljhin could do more damage to their forces in closed quarters than the threat of an entire Demon Legion. Adem stared at the pale-eyed man as he asked, 'And you will help us?'

Most of the men in the room stood waiting, until the man bowed low and replied, 'It would be an honour to serve. My life is in your hands.' Adem considered the possibilities. If this man spoke the truth, he could prove a valuable asset. He was equal in strength to Adem, though Adem's new abilities would give him the advantage. However, if he let his guard down around this man—

'Souljhin are in the keep!' a man shouted, down the hallway, followed by cries of, 'Sound the alarm! The castle is under attack!' Surprisingly, the man wore a calm expression, as if he was neither afraid nor amused by the situation.

'Release the Shield-Trap,' Adem ordered. 'But stay linked; and be ready to hold him again.' Despite his strength, these six Ael Tarael should be strong enough to form another Shield-Spell even while he held Angel-Magic. Should he send for more just in case? No! There was no time! 'Follow me,' he told the man. He marched through the parting crowd with Carl, Wil and Hayley close behind.

He saw Arig when he entered the hallway. 'Is Jean safe?' Adem shouted.

'I thought she was with you,' Arig said. Adem began to charge down the hallway with shouts of panic all around him. Some of the hallways he passed down were on fire, tapestries and paintings licked with orange flames. He rounded a corner to see a tall dark-cloaked figure standing before him. A wicked red blade in its dark gauntleted fist.

Adem thought, and the creature burst into white hot flames. The heat was locked in by Shield-Magic that also limited the amount of oxygen supplied to the fire. In seconds the flames vanished leaving no sign of the creature. Carl and Wil were at his side, as Hayley asked, 'How did you do that?'

***

'So, you love him more than anything,' Jean said, not as a question, but as the matter of fact she had discovered, through her interrogation of this painted hussy! She had rarely been jealous of other women, perhaps because she had never fought over the same man before. As a young woman she met men and had her fun, then moved on when things got too complicated. This time she was ready to battle for the man she loved. Isabelle was despicable in her apparent desires for Adem; she seemed more than halfway obsessed! 'I understand your feelings for Adem, I must admit, he is a hopeless romantic,' she wore a calculating grin. Isabelle responded with, 'Indeed, Adem has trouble with his emotions. His professed love for two women is proof of that.'

'Are you claiming that his love for me is untrue?'

'Oh no, forgive me, Snow Fox,' this time Isabelle appeared to be timing her words. 'I am sure Adem does love you, he has told me as much. However, he cannot deny his feelings for me also; and more than that, he has consummated those desires.' So that was her game, rub it in Jean's face for a while! Jean almost stammered as she replied, 'That may be true, princess, but Adem and I also have great responsibilities. We are unified in a great cause. Besides that, we are also joined through the kigare. I know how much he cares for me. Can you really say the same?' That was the master stroke, that changed the little woman's face to a series of mixed emotions, her tan skin suddenly turning quite pale.

'I know ... that is to say, I am certain my feelings are reciprocated,' she seemed to choke on the last word.

'But how can you ever be sure?'

'You play a cruel joke on me, Daughter of Thor. A clever but manipulative game! I will not be defeated by this. I will ... I will join with him through the kigare also!'

'But you have no Battle Angels,' Jean said, a slight sneer on her lips. Isabelle brushed her hands down her crimson skirt, as if it were crinkled, as she replied, 'Perhaps my father will buy me one,' the spoken thought brought her index finger to her chin, in contemplation. Jean nearly burst out laughing before she replied, 'It must be joyous to have whatever you want at your very request, or command. Perhaps such an upbringing explains why you will not give up the bone once you sink your teeth in.' That scandalised expression returned to Isabelle's face, something Jean had seen a number of times in the last half-hour that they conversed, as she asked, 'You dare insinuate that I am like some wretched bitch?'

'It was simply a metaphor, princess. I implied no such thing,' Jean had perfect control of her emotions. She would not lose this argument—

Shouts in the hallway, boots thumping! The alarm bells sounded in her head. 'We're under attack!' Terese had unsheathed her blade, it glowed pale white. 'Quickly, princess, get behind me!' Jean also had her sword drawn, passed to her by one of the Aldebrands. The other fastened the bow case to her back, and she waited as the shouts grew louder.

'The keep is under attack!'

'Sound the alarm!'

'Protect the White Snow Fox!'

The doors burst open, and Aldebrands and Alit'aren poured into the room, followed by Orion and Tobin, blades glowing golden and pale green. Lydia and Elmira entered with faces of controlled fury. 'Souljhin are infiltrating!' Elmira shouted. 'Quickly, we must reach a more secure position.'

'Where can we hide?' Isabelle asked with a look of terror.

'We will not hide,' Jean said with rage building. 'We will drive them out.'

'There are too many, Jean,' Lydia said. 'We must flee.'

'What of your son?' Jean asked.

'His place is here, to defend his fortress,' Tobin replied.

'No!' Jean snapped. 'We stand and defend. Retreat is our last option.'

'The Hex-Warlords are here,' Elmira said.

'We have an army!' Jean cried. 'I will not leave women and children to be slaughtered! Adem can face them. We'll support him.'

'It is too dangerous!' Isabelle screamed. 'Do not put Adem in such a position, I beg you, Daughter of Thor!'

'Call me Jean, just plain old Jean,' she spoke with perfect calm. 'Follow me,' she said, as she began to march towards the door. The poor girl was sobbing. Adem had made a poor choice when he got mixed up with this one.

In the hallway she heard shouts and women screaming. She sheathed her blade; drawing the emerald bow. Tanriel would be of better use in these corridors. She no longer needed to hold either enchanted weapon to summon her Battle Angels. Aldebrands flanked her as Alit'aren raced down the hall; crossing swords with three dark-cloaked figures. The Souljhin hissed like serpents, cloaks flowing like shadows; eyes of menace glaring beneath dark cowls. Energies burst from the weapons with each strike.

'Tanriel,' she breathed the word; crimson spears plunged into the Souljhin. Fire stripped flesh from bone; skeletons collapsed in bursts of glowing ash. The moment they vanished, four more appeared at the end of the hall. Four spears punched through dark armoured chests; ruby flames vaporized muscle and bone as shrill screams tore the air.

***

Adem gestured towards two Souljhin lurking in the shadows, both screamed before they fell to the floor in severed chunks. That was achieved by simply creating laser blades layered within their physical presence. He'd discovered a number of creative new ways to destroy his enemies. A shadow cloaked figure appeared before him now, hovering in the air; silver shadows around his form. The figure raised both hands to throw a bar of green fire—

Adem blocked the attack with his thought, and then sent a bar of blue flame that had the face of a dragon. The jaws bit down on an unseen shield. He made a vortex appear behind the figure, leading to a world of fire. He tried to push the figure into the vortex with a blast of wind, but the man vanished in a warp of Air-Magic. That was the best Adem could manage, force them into retreat. He was running out of ideas.

He continued towards Jean's chambers, knowing she would be trying to reach him too. Two more Souljhin swept down the hallway like cloaked serpents, as a figure of shadows appeared floating above, wielding blue lightning. Adem deflected the attack, throwing a bar of green fire at the floating figure. The two Souljhin moved towards him, raising tainted blades. Golden arrows hit the first; the other was struck by a bar of red flame, burning a hole through its chest. That had been Carl, the golden arrows either Hayley or Wil.

His focus was on the floating shadow that he hammered with blasts of flame. A Shadow Hound appeared, charging forward to pull the other Souljhin to the floor; biting off its skull. The floating figure threw a blue bolt at one of the tall mirrors lining the hallway, the mirror rippled, as if the surface was water hit by a stone. The cloaked figure flew into the mirror! Adem wasn't certain why, but he gave chase, leaping into the shimmering surface of the mirror to land on the other side. He heard shouts behind him before he passed through, and he turned back to see Carl and Wil leaping through after him. Hayley remained on the other side, battering at the mirror that was now a solid surface. Alit'aren and Aldebrands rushed to surround Hayley; they too peered into the mirror with shocked expressions.

'So, we're trapped in here?' Adem asked.

'Until I can find a way to get us back,' Carl said, as he tapped at the mirror surface with his spear. 'Why did you run after him, Adem?'

'I guess I wasn't thinking straight. Why did you follow?'

'To protect your back,' Wil said, at almost a growl. He would be less than pleased to be separated from his wife. 'What if we break the mirror?'

'That could leave us trapped here forever,' Carl replied.

Adem looked around the dark space that surrounded them. This place wasn't an exact reflection of the real world. The hallway was the same, but the light was different, appearing in patches in the distance like starlight. Then the hallway began to warp like a flowing river, changing into pure darkness. Moonlight appeared, revealing a small seaside town. Tiled roofs of dark greens and blues, the walls of the buildings were mostly bluestone.

The sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs was peaceful, though Adem was still on edge. He knew nothing of this place, and his Battle Angels had gone silent again, they seemed nervous—

A horn sounded, a Boli-Kuldr horn, to the east! They stood on the western side of the village, the windows dark within the houses. They heard hooves stomping, a Boli-Kuldr horde charging towards them. 'I say we split up,' Adem suggested, 'and try to surround them.'

His friends gave short nods; then Wil raced towards the northern side of the town. Within moments he was lost from sight. Carl's spear glowed crimson, then blue light surrounded his form. A moment later, he'd vanished!

The hooves grew louder, Adem moved to stand within a courtyard, surrounded by two and three storey rooftops. Shadows were cast across the paved stone, hiding the bulk of the demon force. With Angel-Magic enhancing his vision he was still able to estimate their number, three hundred or more in black armour, wielding black scythe shaped blades.

Some had eyes that glowed like lanterns, others were flame red.

He lashed out with his blade, still holding the link. Blue lightning blasted outwards in thin sheets, as he danced through the forms, cutting through the armour and flesh of the front lines. Raging blue flames roared through the ranks over six bodies deep. The beasts howled in outrage; some fell with fatal wounds. Though the rear lines began to charge, pushing their pikes forward until Adem had to retreat.

He turned and looked to a nearby rooftop. For some reason he knew he could reach it, even though it was two storeys high. He crouched; then leapt. He launched into the air, reaching four feet higher than the base of the rooftop, and he seemed to float into landing on the dark blue tiles.

The eight-feet-tall Boli-Kuldr easily pulled themselves up onto the first rooftop, dozens of them clawing at the second level. Adem hacked at their skulls, blue flames scorching flesh; they collapsed in melted piles. He leapt and soared across a four feet gap; landing on another rooftop. He ran across the blue tiles as more beasts hauled themselves up and gave chase. The next house had three levels, he leapt, and his foot touched the second level with the first landing. He pushed his heel, soaring higher to land on the third level. He looked down to see Boli-Kuldr scrambling up the second level.

He gestured towards the creatures, using his thought ... Fire-Magic. The beasts burst into flames; this time Angel-Magic was not necessary. The problem with his new ability was that it could be more draining than teron depending on what he created. Fire-Magic was less draining, though summoning dragons or other creatures to devour his enemies was similar to working with a large link.

He ran on across the rooftop, leaping and landing on a second level building of green tiles. Boli-Kuldr were already standing on this level. He slashed with his blade, lightning bolts punching into their chests in blue arcs. Carl and Wil must've been distracted by more demons. He ran on to try to locate them, leaping through the air like a giant grasshopper.

***

Tanriel hurled four crimson spears at two Souljhin. Two spears punched into each of their dark scaled breastplates, garnet webs spreading across their flesh; they burst into burning dust. The Ael Tarael were focused on suffocating the flames that swept through hallways. If they didn't control the blazes soon, they may lose half the castle. Evacuation had already started, though some charred bodies were discovered when putting out the flames. Some were Ael Tarael. She fought to control her nerves as a burning pain filled her throat. She coughed also, as the smoke was thick. She assumed Carl would know some way to avert the smoke from entering her lungs, but reports said Adem, Carl and Wil had vanished. Through a mirror of all places!

Hayley was sketchy in her explanation; the woman was half traumatised at the prospect of losing her husband. Her pregnancy was beginning to show also. Rumours of the enigma would spread throughout the lands; a vampire with child. Jean was concerned by what the child may look like, and what the child may become.

Two more Souljhin appeared, dark cloaks and blades that glowed with crimson runes. Spears punched through their breastplates, flames erupting through their flesh. As the two burning skeletons collapsed, Calliestra appeared again in a warp. This time the woman wore silver shadows like a gown, though her face was exposed, white light burning in her eyes. Tanriel threw a spear that struck a blue Shield-Spell, created by Calliestra. Jean pushed her open palm at the woman and a wave of emerald flames struck the Shield-Sphere, pushing the woman back. She was on the ground this time, which suggested to Jean the woman may be tiring.

Terese swore vengeance and moved to attack, but Jean held her back with one arm as she pushed again with her right hand. Another burst of flames struck the Shield-Spell, as two more crimson spears flew from Tanriel. The spears struck the Shield-Sphere and punched halfway through; the tips of the spears froze a hand's length from Calliestra's heart. Calliestra gestured, and the floor began to ripple like a wave, flames burst from the stone floor. Jean created a Shield-Wall, the wave of fire and stone rubble struck, and she felt a strong push from the force of the attack. Luckily Tanriel had reinforced the Shield-Magic in time, a wall of liquid-flame repulsing chunks of burning stone.

Her Battle Angel began punching towards Calliestra, balls of orange flames striking the Dark General's Shield-Magic with fury.

That was a close call, Jean Fairsythe, Tanriel sent. Now I'm angry! Jean sensed the truth of that comment through the kigare, Tanriel was fuming. Blasts of flame hammered Calliestra backwards, Tanriel hovering above Jean. The orange flames fell like shooting stars; Calliestra struggling to repel the attacks. Jean's Aldebrands looked eager to move in to surround the enemy, though the hallway between was a pile of burning rubble. Retreat! Tanriel sent. I'll hold her off here.

Jean ordered the retreat; turning to move quickly down the hallway, with Terese on one side and Hayley guarding Isabelle close behind. Her Aldebrands and Alit'aren protected the rear of their retreat; others fanned out ahead. Two more shadow cloaked forms appeared. Jean cried, 'Anwen!'

Anwen turned the Souljhin to vapour, blasts of white fire flying from her fingertips. Her second Battle Angel wore a red coat and skirt with blue boots, crimson armour and hair of golden flame. Jean wondered if Anwen had been observing her for fashion tips!

Another shadow cloaked figure appeared at the end of the hall. This one was male, a close-cropped dark beard visible within the cowl. He raised his fingers and blue lightning struck another Shield-Wall, this one made by Anwen and Jean. Her Battle Angel threw bolts of white fire at the man, striking his Shield-Sphere in golden flares. Then the tall immortal with the white moustache stepped up beside Jean, she had never seen the man before, and Tanriel and Anwen would not give up anything they knew of him. The fact that he'd been guarded by six Ael Tarael suggested he was dangerous, though he'd aided Jean a number of times already.

The man waved a hand towards the cloaked figure, and the enemy was pushed back by an invisible force. Then the white-haired man crushed his fingers into a fist, and the cloaked figure let out a hollow wail, then vanished in a warp. That was their method, surprise attacks; then they would flee. This new ally was strong in Angel-Magic if he could best one of the Hex-Keepers. Jean was more than curious, and she would get her answers as soon as things settled down.

For now, they focused on putting out fires, the hallways were still filled with smoke and flames at every turn. Female servants were often seen running in terror. Jean's entourage was a sign of hope for those women; each time they found another they would lead them to safety. Anwen and Tanriel returned to their Resting Points as Jean continued to patrol the castle. She used some of their strength to assist in putting out the fires. She was passing through a hallway of smoking tapestries when a soldier rushed towards her, saluting before he shouted, 'The Hex-Warlords are burning the Royal Libraries!' Jean suddenly felt a complete fool, for not realising the intent of the enemy sooner. If the libraries were destroyed, there would be no ancient knowledge to assist in finding a cure.

'How many are burning?' Jean asked the tall immortal.

'All of them,' replied the man. 'They used Jinn-Magic to set whole vaults aflame.' Jean cursed under her breath. She feared these attacks would occur across the Free Lands until all knowledge was destroyed. This was a disaster!

Where are you, Adem? I need you!

***

Adem leapt through the air—over twenty feet off the ground—to land on another rooftop. He'd been using that new ability, to lead the Boli-Kuldr towards the area where he sensed Carl. The town was large, hundreds of buildings stretching alongside the ocean cliffs. He guessed it reflected a town somewhere north of Mordien. The shape of the land suggested this location, from his memory of studying maps in the area.

The roar of Boli-Kuldr pursued him through the night, hoofed feet pounding the pavement and tiled roofs as they gave chase. Some were further ahead of his path; his blade slashing in arcs of blue flames, burning demon bodies that fell in scorched piles.

He leapt, soaring over a rooftop swarming with Boli-Kuldr wielding spiked clubs, and landed on the paved stone. The gap between the next buildings was further than he'd estimated. He leapt again, as a blue flare erupted where he'd been standing. More fell around him as he landed on the second level of the next house. He saw a shadow cloaked figure standing on the rooftop, blue lightning in his hands. Adem formed a Shield-Sphere, again using his thought rather than Angel-Magic. He had to restrict his use of teron to remain sane.

He used his thought to summon another Golden Soldier, standing eight-feet-tall behind his enemy. The sentinel raised both arms to unleash bars of thick red lasers. The surprise attack unsettled the dark cloaked figure, pale eyes with a red beard. Adem's Battle Angels confirmed his name was Adlio.

The beams of fire stuck Adlio's Shield-Spell, pushing him forwards as his feet skidded on the roof tiles. He gestured over his shoulder with his right hand, and the Golden Soldier burst into flames, the gold becoming liquefied in seconds; melting into a bubbling mess. Adem thought, and spikes spit up out of the roof tiles, two of them punching up through the abdomen of the Dark General. He gave a wail of pain; then vanished in a warp. Adem checked the spears and was delighted to see fresh red blood sliding down the shafts.

Chapter 22

Hero Chain

Jean watched the last of the flames vanish, from the largest library vault in the palace. The other fires had been extinguished; including the other libraries, though there was little left except piles of scorched leather and ash. This filled her with grief, if the other kingdoms had suffered similar attacks, they would lose their best chance at finding a way to cleanse Angel-Magic.

She was standing in the smoky chamber looking at the ashes on the shelves and floor, when a tall immortal with green eyes entered. He wore armour and a fine blue coat, dark trousers and leather boots. He looked youthful, except for his eyes that emanated more experience than any other immortal she had ever seen. He swept a look around the room, his focus resting on the white-haired man with the moustache a moment before he asked, 'May I speak with you in private, Daughter of Thor?'

'You may call me Jean, after we are properly introduced, lord?' she fixed him with a probing glare before he replied, 'My name is Elarja RinHannen.' That name brought a stunned expression to the face of the white-haired immortal, though he tried to hide his surprise a moment after. Hayley and Terese both gasped.

'You may leave us,' Jean said to her entourage, as Ael Tarael, Alit'aren and Aldebrands began to file out of the room, ash floating up at every step. Finally, she was alone with only Terese and Hayley, as well as this man named Elarja. She tried to gain information on the man from her Battle Angels, though they were silent, although she sensed an emotion from them both about the man. She thought it was ... elation!

'Tell me about yourself; Elarja RinHannen,' Jean said.

'In good time, Snow Fox,' Elarja replied. 'For now, we must deal with this tragedy. The Sons of Odin are lost to us, as is this precious knowledge that burns around us.'

'The Sons will return. As for the books, I see no way we can reverse the damage. It will take centuries to regain a fraction of the knowledge that was stored here.' The man looked around the room before he replied, 'There is a way to solve this problem.'

'How would that be possible?' Jean asked.

'With these, Jean Fairsythe,' Elarja said, as he drew forth four precious stones from a leather belt pouch, red, green, white and blue. 'With these I can recover any book you wish to read.'

'How is that possible?'

'Listen to him, Jean,' Terese said, the woman appeared to be brimming with excitement, and Jean sensed the same emotion in Hayley.

'What do you need to perform this miracle?' Jean asked, still with scepticism in her voice.

'I will require the Archive Tomes. If they are already burnt to cinders, I will have to return to when they were not.'

'I don't understand,' Jean said. Elarja smiled again, though the wisdom in his eyes seemed to shine even brighter as he said, 'I assume your companions have heard my name before. I prefer not to speak about my gifts, perhaps they can explain.'

'I will tell her, Lord Elarja,' Terese said. The man looked at her, and said, 'You have the face of Armellia Frostblade, it is so distinct ... I wonder—?'

'An ancient member of my lineage, Lord Elarja,' Terese said, but Jean caught her lie, Armellia Frostblade was Terese's name in a past life, over a hundred thousand years ago!

'You knew Armellia?' Jean asked in shock.

'We fought together in the Battle of Kren Kohlor Fields,' Elarja said, before Terese added, 'And the Battle of Mialar's Flight!' Elarja looked extremely curious, as he regarded Terese again and said, 'Haunting how much you remind me of her.' Terese and Hayley began to giggle. Jean thought she might faint in shock at how old this man must be.

'You are an intriguing fellow, Lord Elarja,' Jean said, in a calm tone, standing her tallest. 'My companions will brief me on what they know of you. I will meet you for supper in the Royal Dining Hall.' Just then, Lydia and Elmira entered with their husbands trailing. They had been sent to help put out fires in the north wing of the palace, the women looked drained of strength. All four immortals fixed Elarja with stares that were filled with warmth and awe.

'Lord Elarja,' Lydia said, bowing lower than Jean had ever seen the woman do for anyone, followed by Elmira, Orion and Tobin.

'I will be gladdened to know the whole of this man's story,' Jean said with a smile. 'His reputation appears to be without equal.'

Later, after her briefing on Elarja from Terese and Hayley, Jean sat in the Royal Dining Hall with the miraculous man, as well as Isabelle, Lydia, Elmira and their husbands. Arig stood guard along the wall of the chamber, as well as Aldebrands and Alit'aren. The white moustached immortal was also present, and Hayley had explained that man's true identity also. She resisted the urge to shiver in his presence. His eyes probed her soul in a way that made her certain he had been Tairark Vampire-King, before his transformation.

She questioned the man on this place Adem, Carl and Wil had entered. His answers were evasive, yet she pushed him until she understood their situation better. They were in serious danger if they did not escape soon. 'Can't you reach them, with your special gifts?' Jean asked Tairark, who she preferred to call Serock, his newly chosen name. It meant 'The Fallen,' in the Old Nordic Tongue.

'That ability is sadly lost to me, Snow Fox. Much of my old powers died with my former shell. I still may provide formidable defence against your enemies, though I cannot bring your friends back from that realm.'

'How will they escape then?'

'The Reflected Realm is a world of dangers, my Lady. I fear that if they cannot escape soon, some manner of evil will destroy them.' Jean felt a sinking feeling in her heart; then she looked to Elarja and asked, 'Can you do anything?'

'I suggest sourcing information from the ancient texts, Daughter of Thor,' Elarja replied, with a narrowed gaze. She was certain he did not trust Serock. Elarja then opened the Archive Tome that had been stored in the chambers of the High Lore Keeper, Eiblen Marcroli. It was among the few tomes that had survived the fires, as the enemy must've considered such referencing materials useless, once the libraries were set aflame. Or perhaps they had not known the old Lore Keeper often borrowed the tome for his research.

Elarja studied the book for some time, until he pointed at a page, and found a reference to books about the Reflected Realm. In the book it gave the Nordic name for the realm, Arthros'temeilen. The tome gave the name of each book, its reference code and which library it was stored in. If Elarja was truly who Terese and Hayley said he was; then this book was a vital key to finding and saving the Sons of Odin and finding a cure for Angel-Magic.

Elarja closed the tome, then stood and walked to the far end of the room. He drew forth those four precious stones from his pouch, then clutched them in his right fist as light began to radiate about his form. The light was a swirl of reds, blues, greens and white, it moved like serpents entwining until it formed a glowing sphere. A sound like stone tearing filled the air, as the sphere bulged and flared brighter. A moment later the light vanished, and so had Elarja!

'So, it is true,' Serock said, with a look of bewilderment. To Jean's amazement, the former High-Servant seemed to hold Elarja in great reverence.

'It may be true,' Jean said; then she fixed the man with a hard stare, as she asked, 'Do I need to question your loyalty, Serock?'

'You have my absolute loyalty, Snow Fox. I swear the oath to serve you, until my last breath, and in the next life, and if I am reborn again, I will still serve you.'

'That's quite a promise. How much time do we have?'

'It would appear we have all the time in the world,' Serock said, with that same puzzled expression. 'Though our one hope is that time in the Reflected Realm is slower than here. While we try to puzzle out a way to rescue the Sons, if it takes days here, it will only seem hours to them there.'

'Why have they called off the attack?'

'I assume the enemy is working to burn down every library across the Free Lands, as you have already guessed. The rest may have ganged up on the Sons of Odin, while they are trapped and alone.' Jean gave a deep sigh of exasperation. If the Sons were defeated, the enemy would then return for her. Time was of the essence.

***

Elarja stood in the Royal Library of the palace, but this was not on the same day that he had left Jean Fairsythe and her companions, in the Royal Dining Hall. Moving short or great distances was possible with the precious stones he'd crafted many an Age ago, though their real power was the ability to travel through time. The day he visited was a few days before the attack. He did not want to journey too far back in time, as the missing books could start questions being asked among the librarians, which could have a ripple effect on the timeline to disastrous proportions.

Time travel was dangerous for that very reason, too much alteration of the timeline could change events drastically, resulting in lives being lost, or all life completely. If someone needed these books, while he was using them in the future, it would upset the natural course of events that had transpired before he took the book. The possibilities were perhaps minor in such circumstances, though what if the book was needed for study; and that student lacked that knowledge at a time when it was vital? He had always been cautious of these dangers; though this was the very reason the Leaf Aldebrands had imprisoned him in that alternate realm, nearly one hundred thousand years ago.

He was searching for the book he needed, when he heard footsteps approaching. His hearing was exceptional, but this immortal that approached was adept at keeping their footfalls silent, until they were close. Within moments the woman was standing at his side. In his moment of surprise, he did not try to escape, as that would cause more questions. The woman was of average height for an immortal female; raven black hair tied in a braid. Tinges of grey formed wingtips above her pointed ears, and there was a look of great experience to the woman despite her youthful complexion. He guessed she was over a thousand years old to have grey in her hair, though there were no lines or wrinkles around her large black eyes. She wore the royal sigil of the Librarian Guild, a burning torch in the shape of a white owl lined with gold and crimson, on a wool-spun gown of dark green. She wore no jewellery, and had a modest look about her, but when she spoke, Elarja became uneasy, 'I have not seen you before, so, you must be new. What is your name?'

'Telgrol Ardoshi, of the Third Depository, my lady,' Elarja replied. He wore a disguise of course, a similar dark robe with the same sigil, only his flame was in the shape of a horse, of the Third Depository, worked with aqua and green embroidery. It was merely Illusion-Magic of course, underneath he wore his armour, coat and trousers; a disguise created by Angel-Magic. His face was different also, though only slightly, his emerald eyes would appear brown, and his skin slightly tanned.

'A Torvellen name; and you have the look, though your accent is strange to me. Where were you raised, child?' Elarja resisted the urge to smirk at this youngling calling him child, though the command she radiated still made him almost squirm under her gaze.

'Deep in the Southlands, my lady,' Elarja lied, 'in a little hamlet named Storkhaven.' He had studied maps of that region prior to this mission, the name of the place was not made up. When Elarja was a youngling that place was known as the Hollows of the Moon, and a great city stood there ruled by the first of the Torvellen Kings, Torviendis Starblade.

'I have never been to the Southlands,' the woman said. 'Your face is also reminding me of someone, someone I've read about in the old legends. Forgive me; my memory is not as sharp as it once was. My name is Del; and it's just Del, not Lady Del. I am of the Nordic bloodline, as you might have guessed, though my dark hair and eyes come from my Torvellen grandmother.'

'It is a pleasure to meet you ... Del. I wonder; could you help me find what I'm looking for? It seems the tome I referenced in the archives is not where it should be.' Elarja then told her the name of the book, and she replied, 'Oh, yes, I know the one. It was borrowed by Lore Keeper Samuel; he takes an interest in Arthros'temeilen and all the archaic realms.'

'Can you tell me what day he borrowed it?'

'Why yes, I was here. Three days ago, at noon. But why would you want to know when he borrowed it, rather than when he plans to return it?' Elarja shrugged, before he replied with a smile, 'A pointless question, forgive me. Now if you will excuse me, Del, I have other duties.'

'It was a pleasure to meet you, Telgrol. I look forward to speaking with you again, soon I hope.'

'I am delighted to make your acquaintance too, Del,' he bowed adequately as he spoke, then departed with haste. He felt the woman's eyes on his back as he left. He could not shake the way the woman seemed to get under his skin. Not in a romantic way of course, she was far too young for him. She just had a ... a presence about her. Then he reached for the stones in his pouch, when he was hidden in another empty chamber of the library vaults. The Time Travel Dome formed around him, in a swirl of light and colour.

He landed in the same chamber he had left Del in; four days further into the past. He still wore his disguise, and he found the book in short order. However, he was just taking the tome off the shelf, when he heard the same familiar footsteps approaching. He waited, and in a short time Del was standing behind him, with that youthful face and experienced eyes. She narrowed her gaze as she saw his face, then she said slowly, 'I know you. I've met you here before.'

'Forgive me, my lady, but that is not possible,' Elarja offered, suddenly feeling a sting of panic.

'Yes, now I remember. You're Telgrol Ardoshi, the Torvellen boy from the Southlands. Storkhaven if I recall correctly?' Elarja thought he might begin to break a sweat, for the first time in a long time. Something was very wrong here, if this woman remembered him, it was a matter of great concern.

'Forgive me, my lady, but I must be going. I must deliver this book to my tutor.'

'Who is your tutor?' Del asked.

'Lore Keeper Samuel,' Elarja said, it was his best hope to escape without a confrontation. However, it could cause ripples in the timeline when Samuel arrived to borrow the tome tomorrow. Questions would be asked. The woman smiled, and he bowed then made another hasty exit. Again, he felt those eyes on his back.

***

Jean watched Elarja reappear in a flare of coloured light, standing in the Royal Dining Hall, only a short time after he'd departed. He held a brown leather-bound volume, with Aelfin script on the cover, embossed in gold. Placing the book on the tabletop, he opened it and began to scan through the chapter headings. Jean had to believe it now. This man could travel back in time! She moved to stand beside him; looking over his shoulder at the large brown pages. He pointed to the chapter about the Reflected Realm. He opened those pages to study them with a concentrated frown.

She noticed his brow was furrowed, and she asked, 'Is something else bothering you, Lord Elarja?' He looked up, his gaze strained with concern, before he replied, 'I fear there may be a rift in the timelines.'

'What does that mean?' Jean asked.

'I visited two different days in the past, one a few days before the attack, where I met a librarian woman named Del. I wore a disguise and gave a false name and heritage, of course. However, the book had been borrowed three days before that day, so I went back to the day before that.'

'Yes, go on,' Jean said, she felt she understood so far.

'Well, Del was there again, only she recognized me!'

'Impossible!' Terese said, arms crossed with her head shaking side to side. 'How could she remember you?'

'I don't know!' Elarja exclaimed. 'That is what worries me. She could not remember me, because she met me in the future, not the past. Yet she could recall my name, my clan, and my hometown, of the false identity I had provided her. She could not recall when she met me, though she knew it was in that same library chamber.'

'Could she have some special gift?' Hayley asked.

'Not even a Reader could know the name and history of a person they have never met, they can only foretell an event occurring to someone they already know, the person they are reading, and events that affect other people they have already met,' Elarja said.

'Could it be that you already visited her further back in time, yet you don't know it yet?'

'No, it doesn't work like that,' Elarja said, before he took on a lecturing tone. 'Time is linear, until you change something in the past to create a possible new line, due to altering the course of events. I always try to correct these changes whenever possible. I will return the book to moments after I borrowed it, for example, to ensure it can be borrowed by Lore Keeper Samuel the next day.'

'Very wise, my lord,' Terese said. 'Yet what if you travelled further back in time, in the future, which would explain why Del recognised you?'

'I just explained, it doesn't work like that,' he sounded slightly irritated this time. 'I can't have met her further in the past, because I haven't travelled there yet. To explain in detail, this relies on the Hero Chain, and its links to the Shield of Fire, and the turning of the Great Cycle. Time is a Hero Chain, the strongest that exists, and present time, this time we are experiencing now, moves the Shield of Fire which turns the Great Cycle through the Ages.'

'Get to the point of why she shouldn't remember you,' Jean said.

'Because I had not met her before that day,' Elarja replied. 'I met her four days after that day, so it was impossible that she remembered me. Anyway, linear time, if I had travelled further back in time, and met her then, I would know it. So, until I do that, which would occur in the future, that past event does not exist yet, so, she should not have known my identity!'

'So, what does this mean?' Jean asked. 'Because she did know you, so she was remembering the future?'

'Exactly,' Elarja said. 'This suggests there must be a rift in the timelines, giving people memories in the past of their future.'

'And what are the implications of that?' Jean asked.

'If this rift expands, it could result in physical beings moving from the past to our present time. I must warn you, if this occurs, we may find ourselves facing demons from before the days of the First Age. Giants of nightmare flesh, some that could turn men to burning ash, simply by breathing upon them. There is also the possibility of the ancient Hex-Warlords moving through time, landing here in the present, or in the future, or in the recent past. If the Sons of Odin were caught by a surprise attack, the enemy could alter the Prophecies and—'

'I see your point, Lord Elarja,' Jean said. Now she was worried. 'Is there anything in this book that can tell us how to enter the Reflected Realm?'

'I don't think so, Lady Jean. I will continue to study it to try to puzzle out an answer.'

'Let me know when you come up with something,' Jean said, then she summoned her entourage and they returned to her chambers. Terese and Hayley strode at her sides, with Isabelle close behind. They were trailed by Lydia and Elmira and their husbands. She left Serock alone with Elarja, along with his Ael Tarael guards, and the Alit'aren and Aldebrands who stood in the dining hall. She saw the two men staring at one another like a face-off between two proud lions. It would take time for trust to grow between those two.

Later, when she was in her bedchambers with Terese and Isabelle, she continued her questioning of the other woman's intentions for Adem. They argued for some time, until Jean was certain she had the upper hand. She turned to walk away when Isabelle pronounced, 'I am to have his child!' Jean's heels grated on the tiled floor as she halted in her tracks. She turned to regard Isabelle, who looked as shocked as Jean felt. Her heart had been ripped from her chest anew.

'When you say, "have his child," do you mean you are currently with child?' Isabelle nodded, her dark eyes flaring with emotion. Jean fought the overwhelming desire to collapse. Her heart was a ball of pain so fierce she thought it might burn through her chest. 'This must be kept secret,' Jean said, after long slow breaths to calm herself. 'The enemy will target you and the child.'

'I'll boil him in his boots for breakfast!' Terese shouted, though she looked upon Jean with deep sympathy.

'Do not get involved in this, Terese,' Jean instructed. 'What's done is done.' She regarded Isabelle as if she were the source of all evil before she said, 'You have won this round it seems, princess. Let's get you to safety.'

Chapter 23

The Angel of Death

Adem had found Carl and Wil again, near a group of burning buildings that Carl had apparently set alight. Wil was set down by Dis Pater on golden wings, then the Battle Angel returned to Wil's axe. The demons had vanished, though Carl explained that there had been swarms of Jacoulra and Nymloc close by, before Adem arrived. 'I'm beginning to understand this place,' Carl said, his breathing was laboured. They were all beyond exhaustion, though the amount of ki'mera they'd obtained at the Battle of Hordrin's Corridor, meant they could possibly keep fighting for a week. Their Battle Angels were also fully charged with the demon souls. 'I think I can get us home,' Carl continued. 'I just need a little more practice at manipulating the environment. I've found my thoughts can alter our location. We should use this ability to focus our memories on the Halls of Korhad. If we can visualise those mirrors again, and I find a way to get us through one, we should be free!'

'Sounds logical,' Wil said. 'Can you picture the halls, Adem?'

'I think I can,' Adem said.

'We need to all visualise the same place,' Carl explained. 'That will increase our chances of overpowering the Hex-Keepers. I think they are controlling this realm.'

Suddenly a great roar filled the air! They looked to the east and saw a black beast standing on all fours. It was larger than the dragon Adem had created at Hordrin's Corridor. Its form was a massive dark bulk, spiked plates rising from its back, similar to a stegosaurus, with a massive skull and jaws of a black horned triceratops! Its eyes flared red in the darkness. It was an Omen of Old Ways Magic. Arawn confirmed it was a Demori Kahlahl. His Battle Angel could not explain how the creature could exist here in this Age. This concerned Adem considerably, as the monstrosity began to charge. Its massive bulk struck the first lines of buildings; stone and tiles were shattered as if struck with immense waves of Angel-Magic, rubble flying in the wake of the beast as it roared like a great hulking T-Rex.

Adem cried, 'Arawn, Llew and Balor!'

Carl shouted, 'Math Mathonwy and Angus!'

Wil shouted, 'Bran and Eledisren!'

Adem's vision became fire of many colours. The Battle Angels appeared and took to the skies on wings of shadow or flames. Fire Lions, Spirit Wolves and Shadow Hounds began charging across the rooftops, dozens of them, snarling and howling; they ran to face their prey. Even Shadowhunter emerged and took the lead of the packs and prides. Lightning fell around the beast, and it slowed its pace, buildings exploding into flames. The Battle Angels flew around the creature, hurling down bolts and arcs of flame that struck its hide and skull. It appeared only slightly annoyed by their onslaught, though they distracted it enough to buy them some time.

'Concentrate on the hallway!' Carl shouted. Adem focused, they all focused, picturing the hallway, and their surroundings began to change. To the west of the buildings, near where they stood, the darkness became a reflection of the hallway of mirrors! Carl raced towards one; waving his spear and making incantations as the mirror surface rippled and shimmered. Wil was at his side in a blur, and Adem leapt the distance to catch up. Adem looked back to see the beast running in circles, as it was harried by the Battle Angels with lightning and fire.

Then it burst free of their attacks; charging towards them as the earth rumbled.

'Whatever you're doing, do it faster!' Adem shouted to Carl. His friend gave him a troubled look, and then said, 'Give me a few more minutes.'

Adem's eyes nearly fell out of his head. He turned again to face the charging monstrosity. He used his thought ... and a golden dragon swooped down out of the sky. Its rear claws clutched the demon by the skull. Both massive creatures collapsed and skidded, buildings bursting in their wake. The great dragon stood and flapped its wings as it roared, and the demon appeared cowed for a moment. Then it charged again, plunging a dark horn into the chest of the dragon, pushing it through the town as its massive hooves pounded the shuddering earth. The Battle Angels continued to hurl their attacks at the beast, until it gave up on the dragon. It returned its focus to standing on hind legs; attempting to catch the Angels in its jaws.

Adem's hope faded, as he saw the dragon rise and cough up a spurt of blood. Both beasts were only thirty feet away now. 'Hurry, Carl!' Adem shouted. The dragon's form dissipated into a flock of golden eagles that took flight. Adem thought again ... Four Golden Soldiers stood before him. Raising golden cannon arms aimed at the demon. Red fire lanced towards the beast, they moved in sliding motions to cut slices through its legs. It roared again before collapsing. A moment later it had recovered though, and it stood again as Adem changed the Soldiers' cannons—Sprays of fire and dragon's roar erupted from the weapons; six-inch bullets flew to strike the skull of the creature, making large holes that burst with dark blood. 'Faster!' Adem shouted.

Carl cried, 'It's done!'

Adem watched Carl leap at the mirror, and to his relief, he passed through it! Wil went next and Adem leapt after him, all of them landing in a pile on the red carpeted hallway of Korhad. Soldiers saw them and began to rush towards them.

'The Sons of Odin have returned!' one man shouted.

'Alert the Snow Fox!' another roared.

Adem stood and looked through the mirror, to see the demon stomping on his Golden Soldiers. In a blur of colour and fire, their Battle Angels travelled through the mirror and returned to their Resting Points. Adem guessed Carl knew they needed to return, or they may be trapped in that Mirror Realm. Then Carl began to wave his spear and continue to chant. The mirror surface shimmered and rippled; as the massive demon charged.

Adem summoned a Golden Soldier, almost as tall as the Demori Kahlahl. It threw its golden claws around the beast. The Soldier was pushed back; dredging up the pavement with golden heels as it held the beast's skull with one arm. It raised the other, to plant a giant golden blade through its hide. The creature roared; raising its snout and throwing the Soldier into the air. The demon charged again—Carl tapped the mirror with his spear—the creature's skull struck the mirror; the hallway rumbled. It roared in outrage; butting its skull against the mirror as stones fell from the ceiling, one missing Adem by a hand's width. Then all was silent, the creature continued to attack but, it had no effect on this side of the mirror. Then the demon vanished, and the mirror reflected their three stunned faces. Adem collapsed ... Darkness.

When he opened his eyes, he was laying on a bed in a large chamber, with pale grey walls and red and blue tapestries. He expected to see Jean, though it was Isabelle's face that stared back at him. Regarding him with concern and compassion, she stroked his forehead as she said; 'You've slept for nearly an entire day, my love. I wondered if you would ever wake.' He pushed his arms down firm, trying to sit upright, he was still exhausted. The room was empty other than a single chair by his bedside. He guessed it had been where Isabelle sat while she watched over him. 'Where is Jean?' Adem asked.

'The Snow Fox thought it best that I was here to greet you when you woke. I have wonderful news, my darling.'

'What is it?' Adem asked, though he dreaded the answer.

'I am to have your child!' Isabelle said ecstatically. Adem felt his eyes go wide in shock. An overwhelming surge of guilt took over, as he considered how hurt Jean would be. Furious was probably a better word.

'Are you certain?'

'Isn't it wonderful, my love? Your heir will rule this world and shape it for your return. I will raise the child to be strong willed, kind and well educated.'

'What has Jean said about this?'

'The Snow Fox is obviously jaded, my lord. But she will recover.'

'I must speak with her.'

'I would advise against that, darling. She may not wish to speak with you. You might find that fragile link between you has been irreparably severed,' Isabelle stated this, as if it was the only way it should be. She looked delighted at the thought.

'What of the attack?' Adem asked, suddenly sitting forward as if ready to spring from the bed sheets. Isabelle pushed him back against the pillows as she told him; 'Carl guards your door with a half dozen Aldebrands. The enemy has retreated, for now. It seems their purpose was to destroy the Royal Libraries.'

'To make it impossible to find a cure,' Adem said, suddenly feeling a fool for not considering the possibility. 'Did they succeed?'

'They did,' Isabelle said. 'However, Carl Wilder rescued a most miraculous man. He is able to retrieve a book whenever we need it.'

'How is that possible?'

'It will take some time for me to explain,' she replied with grin. So Adem sat and listened as Isabelle told the tale of Elarja RinHannen. Adem had enough understanding already of this man's abilities, from the legends he had heard or read about. When Isabelle finished the tale, he put his legs over the side of the bed to stand. 'I must speak with him,' he said. Isabelle pushed him back again, saying; 'I will send for him. You need to rest.'

It was true, he'd used up so much ki'mera against the giant demon he'd lost the only thing that was keeping him standing. As he lay against the pillows again, he closed his eyes ... Dreams took hold. Dreams of home.

***

Elarja stood at the bedside of Adem Highlander. The young mortal opened his eyes; staring up at Elarja with a curious expression. 'You summoned me, Lord Adem?'

'Yes,' he forced himself upright, before saying, 'I have heard of your talents. Could we use that ability to rescue someone from the past?'

'You must not have heard half the tales about me. It was for that very reason that the Time Stones were created.'

'I've heard some of those stories. Tell me more.'

'I am known best for bringing a great warrior out of an ancient battle; before they died. I would study the histories of their death, before travelling back to that Age. At first, I made the Stones to rescue friends and family. Though later, I saw a greater purpose, to bring an army of ancient heroes into the present, to fight alongside me.'

'Did it work?' Adem asked. Elarja had sensed Jinn-Magic the moment the Sons arrived through that portal where he was imprisoned. When he returned to Kismeria he'd felt it even more. It was putrid, ghastly filth that made his stomach turn when holding Angel-Magic. Elarja knew even he would be affected by the corruption over time. He considered the possibility that the rift in the timeline was being created by Jinn-Magic since he'd been brought back to Kismeria. The corruption on Angel-Magic was fuelling chaos through the Time Stones.

'It worked some of the time,' Elarja explained, 'though something that perplexed me was that many of the men and women I rescued died in incidents where the situation was always ... unusual.'

'In what way was it unusual?'

'That is a philosophical question, my Lord.' Elarja chose his next words carefully. 'I do not want to go into details ... However, it seemed, an invisible force was seeking them out to return balance to the timeline.'

'You mean Death was after them?' Adem's face was suddenly pale.

'As I said; it is a philosophical question. I sought out the Battle Angels to confirm that this was the work of Death, though they were elusive in their responses.' Adem's eyes took on an inward gaze, as if he were conferring with his own Battle Angels on the subject. 'Eventually all those I rescued were killed by this unseen force. If you are considering such action, to save a friend, there is a need to perform the rescue immediately before their deaths. Any time too far before then could have devastating ripple effects.'

'I understand,' Adem said; then he looked to Carl Wilder who was standing nearby. 'Find those closest to Kelderath, before he was killed. Bring them here.' Carl gave a nod before making his exit. When they were alone, Adem asked; 'So, why do you think Death was after them?'

'Some that I rescued from the past, were known to be reborn in the future, in a reincarnation of their former selves. Others were bound to the Harp of Souls, including my father. When this balance was upset, it had ripple effects on the timeline, in the past, in the present, and in the future.'

'You have seen our future?' Adem asked, with a look of wonder.

'I have seen versions of the future. Some, which I do not wish to speak of, others where the Prophecies of the Sons of Odin were fulfilled. Anything further ahead than present time, this time, is only a possible future. Events that take place due to decisions and actions by individuals can alter that possible future. There is more to it than that, such as the theory that once you can travel through time, there is no present, no beginning and no end. Time becomes fluid, malleable, ever changing and transforming as one event affects another.'

'I see,' Adem said. 'Was the corruption on Angel-Magic ever cleansed in any of those futures?'

'Never in any that I saw,' Elarja replied.

Adem sat silently for a time, before he asked, 'Do you have knowledge that may help us find a cure?'

'That is beyond my knowledge of Angel-Magic,' Elarja admitted. 'My skills were always in crafting objects that use teron and terael. It is possible, that with further study of the ancient texts, I may learn to create a device to assist in cleansing Angel-Magic.'

'That would require years of study I presume?' Adem asked.

'It could take thousands of years. I couldn't say for certain. Tell me of this Kelderath friend of yours. Why is he so important?'

'He was the finest battle strategist I ever met. We need him, especially now when the enemy is so persistent in their attempts to do us in.'

'You must understand that it is likely he will be hunted by that same force I spoke of.'

'I understand,' Adem replied. 'How is it that you never infected the past, after travelling to those futures where Angel-Magic was tainted?'

'That is another philosophical question. It relates to the Prophecies, that the Sons of Odin will increase the concentrations of Jinn-Magic. I think it has to do with your connection to Odin. I only ever felt Jinn-Magic while I visited those futures, then when I returned to the past Angel-Magic was pure again.'

'What about Hayley and the female curse?'

'There has never been a vampire joined with a Battle Angel before her. This corruption on terael never existed in any of the futures I saw. It is the result of Wil Martyr's effect on the timeline, something that did not exist until he made the decision to request Druantia to guard his wife.'

Adem nodded then said; 'Isabelle told me you are also concerned about a rift in the timeline. Explain this to me.' Elarja told Adem about the library visits and the woman Del, as well as his other concerns relating to this. It was at this time that Adem showed deep concern. He told Elarja of the demon they had seen in the Reflected Realm. When Elarja heard the name and description of the beast, he felt certain there must be a rift. That filled him with greater dread than he'd experienced since the First Age.

***

Adem waited, till Carl returned with two Alit'aren and four Aldebrands, the men who were closest to Jothar Kelderath before he died. They all witnessed a part of the moments the massive werewolf crashed down upon the great captain. Adem listened to each of their recollections, as he put the pieces together to form a whole picture. Elarja listened carefully also, those emerald eyes shining with the inner light typical of most immortals, though the wisdom in those eyes spoke of an ancient being. 'So, you were all there, and none of you were able to save him?' Adem asked, which brought shamed faces to the men, before one replied, 'We were a little distracted, mi' lord. Bloody man-eating dogs split up our defences! We failed him.' The man hung his head in shame.

'Never mind,' Adem said. 'You did your best.' The men left after saluting, and Adem stood to collect his sword and bow from the chest at the foot of the bed.

'You need more rest,' Carl insisted, though Adem waved him away.

'We need to bring back Kelderath. We need his battle brilliance.'

'How many can we take with us?' Carl asked Elarja.

'Including me, four,' Elarja said. 'In the ancient battles I took entire armies to assist me in rescuing even one hero. Sometimes that improved the timeline, but it was always messy, unpredictable. I will only take three, and I can only bring back those three and one more.'

'It will be you, me and Wil,' Adem said; buckling on his sword belt.

Chapter 24

To Save a Hero

Adem stood in a circle, with Carl and Wil on either side of him; Elarja standing opposite. Elarja wore his sword at his waist, though Adem understood the Time Stones were a much more powerful weapon. Wil carried his axe and bow, and Carl carried his bow and spear. They needed all of their Battle Angels for this rescue attempt, so Adem also carried the horn. Their Battle Angels were well rested after the encounter with the Demori Kahlahl. Adem also felt revived after his long sleep, though not at his full potential after depleting such vast stores of ki'mera.

Elarja reached for the four precious gemstones, clutching them in his fist. Light began to emanate from his hand, as colourful swirls encased the four of them, forming a sphere of light that bulged and flared—A sound like thunder ripped through the air. Adem felt a shift in his surroundings. He heard shouts and the ring of blades clashing, mixed with the howls of wolves.

The sphere of light vanished—They now stood on one of the platforms of Morgrahl Kordahn! It was night, a dark clouded sky above! A fierce battle raged around them. They had truly returned to that same battle where they'd tried to kill Tairark!

Immediately Adem began to unleash bolts of lightning at werewolves swarming in around them. He punched towards a black skinned beast, its flesh turning to blue vapour. He punched towards a grey furred monster—A blue bolt fell from the sky. Red flames burst beneath the beast. Arc of green flame punched into its chest. The creature was a ball of writhing flames as Aldebrands and soldiers began to cheer and shout their names.

It was then that a very strange thing happened ... Adem could remember this! He could see himself fighting now, only from the vantage point of his former self, battling werewolves on the plateau, to the south of the ruins. He could recall being alerted by the cries of men praising the Sons of Odin, and he could remember looking to the ruins—Seeing lightning and fire—He saw himself! Standing and fighting alongside Carl and Wil, at the same time that Carl and Wil fought beside him on the plateau! It was a bizarre feeling, though the strangest thing was, he could remember the past without this event taking place as well. He could remember it both ways. He wondered if Elarja would explain that had something to do with the rift.

Carl and Wil were fighting for their lives; werewolves were leaping off the higher wall of the ruins. Aldebrands, Alit'aren and soldiers fought with desperation to keep Adem and his friends protected. 'Where is Kelderath?' Adem shouted to a man, running to their aid. The Aldebrand pointed closer to the next rising wall, as he shouted, 'There, Lord Adem!' Adem looked to see Kelderath's white top knot and tail of hair falling from his shaved scalp. His shining armour surrounded by four Aldebrands and three Alit'aren.

Kelderath seemed to be marching forwards without a care. An obvious sign of being overconfident, which might explain his demise. Dozens of werewolves began to bark and growl from all around them, including more launching from the higher wall.

'We must stay together!' Elarja shouted.

Adem shouted, 'Arawn!'

Wil roared, 'Eledisren!'

Carl cried, 'Math Mathonwy!'

The shadow forms of the three Battle Angels loomed around them, wielding their enchanted blades. Fire Lions and Shadow Hounds charged outwards from their circle, pushing werewolves down to bite through skulls; ripping off limbs. The werewolves that penetrated those defences were cut down by the Battle Angels, blade and axe and spear slicing through thick necks and torsos. Adem looked to Kelderath to see him now standing alone, and above him on the higher wall he saw the man's murderer. A large black skinned werewolf stood poised to leap ... Adem thought ... and a Golden Soldier appeared behind the beast, driving a massive golden blade through its back, that protruded from its chest in a dark spray. Kelderath stepped back to look up as the spatter fell at his feet. Adem shouted to Arawn, 'Save Kelderath!'

The Battle Angel leapt into the air on wings of shadow, launching down beside the great captain. A werewolf landed beside Arawn, but the beast was sliced in half by his massive rune-marked crimson blade. Arawn clutched Kelderath by the shoulders and launched him into the air, to land in the circle between Adem and his friends. Kelderath wore a stunned expression as asked, 'What is this? I'm needed at the battlefront!'

'This is your rescue, Jothar!' Adem shouted. 'This man is Elarja RinHannen! We have come to save you from your death!'

'What utter nonsense!' Jothar shouted, as he looked upon Elarja. Then as recognition dawned upon him, he said, 'You cannot take me from this battle!'

'We must go!' Elarja shouted.

'Just give me a few more minutes!' Adem replied. 'We lost too many men here!'

'This is unwise!' Elarja warned.

'Two minutes!' Adem said; then he shouted, 'Balor! Llew Llaw Gyffes!'

Carl roared, 'Angus!'

Wil cried, 'Bran!'

The sky rumbled with thunder, as a great swirling storm cloud formed a vortex above the battle. Lightning fell from the vortex, emerald, aqua, crimson and gold, two hundred bolts per second as the Battle Angels formed a Link. Dozens of Shadow Hounds and Fire Lions began to appear on the stone walls, ripping apart werewolf flesh with claws of steel and flames. Seven male Battle Angels fought with ferocity; blades cleaving through werewolves on the platforms, while Bran, Angus and Balor took to the skies to hack through vampires; blades glowing in brilliant arcs. They flickered as they flew from one vampire to the next, hacking through skulls and chest-plates; bleeding carcasses falling from the sky.

Adem raised four Golden Soldiers to stand in a circle around Dis Pater, Arawn and Math, who still guarded their inner circle. Soldiers wielding golden blades; driving them through the chests of werewolves and hacking off skulls.

Again, Adem could recall witnessing this lightning via the Battle Angel Link, from the same vantage point, where his former self fought on the plateau to the south. He felt the memory entering his mind, as his future self-watched it unfold from the ruins, only this time; he felt the memory lock into his mind. The memory of fighting without witnessing this event was fading. He wondered if this loss of the past memory was how it was supposed to work if there was no rift. Then all he could remember was that he had seen this event unfold in the past, but he did not understand what he saw, until he witnessed it here, and now, through the eyes of his future self! It was a furious mind muddle!

'We must go!' Elarja shouted, and then he raised his fist, as light began to glow around them. Their Battle Angels returned to their Resting Points, in a flare of colour and light. The sphere for time travel surrounded them—Bulged and flared—Thunder ripped the air ... Then they were standing back in Wil's bedchamber, at Korhad, with all who had been there before still waiting for their return.

'That was simply astounding!' Kelderath said, then he bowed low as he said, 'My Lord Elarja, I am honoured that you would save me.' He looked to Adem, and asked, 'Did I truly die?'

'For quite some time, yes,' Adem replied with a plain face.

'I must tell you; I had another close call, not long before you rescued me,' Kelderath explained. 'My memories returned to me from my earliest days of battle. I could recall every tactic ever attempted, and my every success. I fear this increased my confidence, though I believe I now have much greater potential to lead.'

'We brought you back because we need that intelligence,' Adem said. 'There is just one thing we need to warn you about.' Adem and Elarja explained to Kelderath their concerns about the invisible force, that had hunted other men and women Elarja rescued in the ancient histories. Kelderath shrugged his shoulders and replied, 'Death has already had a shot at me. If he wants to take me again, he can have me!' Then he barked a laugh; slapping Elarja on the shoulder, as he said, 'You can always bring me back!'

'I can't guarantee that,' Elarja replied. 'You must be on your guard, at all times.'

Later that evening, a feast was held in the Grand Banquet Hall. Rows of tables with brightly embroidered cloths were spread around the large rectangular hall. Large tapestries hanging from the walls; an arched ceiling worked with winged figurines painted in bright colours. Adem sat with Jean on his right side, and Isabelle to his left. He tried to make conversation with Jean many times during the night, despite the fact that she continued to ignore him. Isabelle also constantly battled for his attention.

Tonight, Isabelle was more sincere, rather than bossy. There was a great kindness and affectionate nature to the immortal woman, something he often forgot when witnessing one of her tempers. Though, he would not have fallen for her, if she only ever displayed the arrogance of a princess, and the rage of a spoilt child. She had won his love through many interrogations of his deepest fears and desires, her persistence to seduce him, as well as the genuine sweetness of her personality that became so difficult to resist. Much like Jean, there were many layers to Isabelle, and she was worth the headaches when he got to experience her good side.

The revelation that she was with child—his child—was still taking its toll on his nerves and psychological state. In a way he was excited about being a father, though at the same time, he feared the child may always be a reminder to Jean of his betrayal.

The hall was filled with warm candlelight, and the glowing pale white orbs that used Angel-Magic to similar effect to lightbulbs. There was music and entertainment, a proper Kismerian feast. Everyone was in their bright silks and finest wool, or silk coats and breastplates. Many wore cloaks, as the weather was getting colder every day. It was pouring rain outside, which was the main reason for the feast, to celebrate the late arrival of autumn. The winter snows would soon follow, as the seasons tried to catch up.

The other reason for the feast was to celebrate the return of Kelderath, and the discovery of Elarja RinHannen, and his miraculous abilities. It seemed wrong in a way, to rob Kelderath of his memories that followed after his death, even becoming one of the Heroes of Will according to Carl. The fact that Adem could even remember being told that fact, was further evidence of the rift in the timeline, as once they rescued Jothar, he would have been erased from the timeline where he appeared as a ghost at the battle of Hordrin's Corridor. Once you started playing with the timelines, it was not only confusing; it could sometimes split your mind in two! He sat listening to the music, and watching the performers, though he had too many concerns to be content. He was anxious, and he was holding back a state of panic. He was not ready to rule these people. But it seemed they had chosen him to do so.

Epilogue

Koncha walked through the darkened village; his three brides at his side. He had taken two more, in the weeks since their Lord Tairark had been murdered by Jinn-Fendinn. That left Koncha to rule the vampire clans. Koncha was not particularly evil, just enough to keep himself going through the motions of murder and pillaging. Allowing the clans to feed on victims, sometimes even children, and take what women they wished to make their new brides. He was just an ambitious man. He had always been. Even over a thousand years ago, when he was lord of an estate near Low Hills Lake. When the southland province was attacked by vampires and werewolves, he had begged Tairark to spare him. His wish was granted, though Tairark showed no mercy for Koncha's wife and three sons. All three had defied the allure of the Vampire-King. His wife, Lenea, swore that she would rather be reborn as a snake, than live out eternity as a vampire.

He looked now to the face of his first vampire bride, Eleniel, dark of hair with eyes that sparkled in the moonlight. Blood dripped from the fangs of all three of his wives, as they had all feasted on a fat baker boy, who had sworn his oath to serve the All-Father. Those were considered the least useful of any possible new recruits, so the boy was drained until he was a pale husk. Koncha had taken a young servant girl, her blood was rich and satisfying.

The village was in flames, as they marched to stand under the great oak tree that stood in the centre of the town. His First Generals were gathered there, all with blood staining their lips, and the liquid-black gaze of a vampire who had fed or was about to feed.

Koncha wore dark armour worked with gold, as did his generals. The clans had servants who provided armour, clothing, weapons and other necessary supplies to their lairs in the southlands. His wives wore silk gowns that shimmered in the moonlight, Kaira and Olarvia both blue eyed with thick golden locks. His wives were all very beautiful, Kaira the most voluptuous of the three, Eleniel the most seductive.

A werewolf patrolled the field on all fours. The black-skinned hound was one of the eldest that had survived the attack by the Sons of Odin at Morgrahl Kordahn. Others patrolled the burning buildings; their bites used to recruit new males, to rebuild their shattered forces. Though there were other clans further south, other lairs, and they would join him as they moved north, swelling his numbers to become a force that would make even the Sons think twice about facing them again.

The sun was their greatest challenge. In the Free Lands the sun was so bright, even in winter, that vampires could not be caught in daylight for even a moment, without being badly scarred. Koncha knew that the bride of Wil Martyr was a vampire woman who could walk in daylight. The spell that had created this ability was his best hope. If he could perform the same spell on the entire clans, there would be nothing that could stop them from ruling this world.

'You know your orders,' Koncha said to his generals. 'Find Wil Martyr's wife. Bring her to me.'

'As you command, Lord Koncha,' replied Larg, with a fist to breastplate, tall, with tan skin and long dark hair. The Ruhalden Immortal had abilities that were rare amongst the clans. Four of his First Generals stepped out from under the wide branches and then all five took flight. They were best suited for the task. Adept at stealth, and all were Masters of the Blade.

Vampires were now a free people. They could feed on whoever they wished, whenever they wanted to. They could take new brides. Build their clans. Set werewolves on the hunt without fear of punishment. Though, the Magic of the High-Jinn flowed through all of them, influencing their behaviours, encouraging their foul deeds. Koncha wondered if another of the High-Servants would try to rule them? If that was the case, he would have to submit or be destroyed. But he was almost certain the vampires had been left to make their own choices. Though Jinn-Fendinn would continue to use them as pawns. Well, Koncha would not be used. He would lead his people to glory. The people of the Free Lands would be turned; or farmed like cattle; supplying fresh blood to the clans. This had always been the dream for vampires. He would see that it became a reality.

The End of the Second Book of the Sons of Odin

Book Three of the Sons of Odin

Arawn's Carnage

Angel-Magic Edition

L. A. Hammer

Prologue

Calliach

Jothar Kelderath suddenly sprang awake, at the sound of his monocle slipping from his coat button; falling and shattering on the stone floor. He'd been dozing in his armchair in his little study, with a warm fire blazing on the marble hearth. He stared upwards with hazy vision, with one of the last books remaining in the palace of Korhad clutched to his chest.

A dark shadow moved across the vaulted stone ceiling, then slithered downwards, and began to rise and take shape on the grey stone wall. A single lantern the only light in the room—other than the dim light of glowbulbs to prevent Souljhin from entering via a Jhin-Tap. The shadow was six feet tall, then eight, then ten. A twelve feet tall shadow took the form of a cloaked and hooded figure, wielding a harvesting scythe that shone blood red. Darkness loomed within the cowl of the figure, and Kelderath was frozen stiff with terror. He realised he was looking into the face of Calliach, also known as the Angel of Death!

He hurled the book at the figure, the scythe swished to slice the hardcover volume down the middle. Then Death raised the scythe above Kelderath's head. He leapt from his chair as the scythe fell to split the red cushioned couch in half! 'Assassin!' he cried. 'Sound the alert!'

Calliach appeared momentarily stunned by the courage Kelderath displayed, roaring like an old lion in the face of his own demise. The door burst open as two of his Golden Owl soldiers charged into the room, spears and shields raised; their crimson armour glowed in the lantern light.

Kelderath rolled to one side, as the scythe fell again to plant halfway through the stone flooring. He reached for his sword, that had fallen beside the broken chair. He had a moment to struggle to his feet; drawing the blade that glowed bright blue. That brief window of opportunity opened due to his brave soldiers charging the cloaked figure; stabbing at his legs with their spears, two feet of steel slicing through the shadow form without a sound.

A swipe of the massive scythe and the two men collapsed, as if having fainted, though the blade did not tear their flesh, even though it should have sliced them into halves. Kelderath understood what this meant. Death had come to take down one man, the one who had been brought back from the grave. He raced for the open doorway, waving his sword as he ran through the hallways shouting, 'Death is here! Raise the alarm!'

He looked back once to see a dark figure in pursuit, scythe blade glowing like magma. Within the cowl a face glowed with pale light; a white human skull with sockets of pure darkness. Before he turned to flee, Kelderath had sworn he'd seen the face grinning with delight, a hunter that finds enjoyment in the pursuit.

***

Hayley sat at her dressing table in a blue silk gown, brushing her long dark hair while staring into the oval mirror. Her liquid dark eyes showed the hunger she felt for her morning cup of goat's blood, that was delayed for some reason. Her usual servant still had not arrived, and she'd sent one of the Aldebrands who watched her door, to see what was causing the delay. Suddenly her Battle Angel sent a warning to her mind.

She heard the door swing inwards—her Aldebrands always knocked before entering, so did Wil, or any of her friends—she sprinted to cross the room to fetch her Lukrorian Bow, raising the weapon pointed at the open doorway. No one entered, silence stretched until she called, 'Who's there?'

A body fell through the doorway, one of her Aldebrands! She crept closer to see the man had bite marks in the side of his neck, and in the hallway, the other dark-haired Aldebrand was slouched against the wall from a similar attack. She would make them her first Vampire Guards if they survived the turning process.

The vampires responsible were gifted to make it this far inside Korhad, without alerting other guards. She slowly crept back inside the room and waited.

At the same time, she allowed Wil to sense her fear through the kigare. She knew Druantia had already alerted Wil's Battle Angels of the situation, and he would be on his way, but if he was a second too late—Something blurred in the corner of her vision, a dark shadow in the shape of a man. She spun with an arrow of amber flame drawn, released three shots, but the shadow was gone. Another blur out the corner of her other eye, she fired again, but the shadow easily evaded the strikes, as golden flames licked the damaged stone walls. That had been another one, so there were two assassins at least.

'I will spare your lives if you agree to serve me,' she said. That had been an idea of hers since she learnt of Tairark's fall, or Serock as they called him now. Without a strong leader, the vampires would be lost for a purpose. She could be that purpose. She could lead them to redemption, those that would follow her orders.

'It's what you are that we want, not what you can offer,' a male voice replied; it seemed to resonate from all around her.

'What am I?' she asked, as she moved in a blur to fetch her sword from beside the bed post, belting the buckle to her waist and drawing the blade in a flicker of motion. Becoming a vampire had made her faster than most immortals, and the half cure from Carl Wilder's spell made her stronger than most vampires. The sword glowed crimson in the shadows of her room. With the shutters closed—apart from the dim light of glowbulbs—the only light was an amber lantern on her desktop, reflected by the mirror. She could open the shutters to flood the room with light, but these shadow beings would surely flee. She wanted to catch them. She wanted answers.

There was silence for some time until she heard the same voice, saying, 'You hold the key to all vampires walking in daylight.' So, it was a kidnapping they intended. That gave her an advantage, they would attempt to capture her and keep her alive.

'You don't stand a chance, you know!' she shouted. 'My husband will be here any moment!'

One of the shadows lurched from the wall, to take the form of a tan skinned immortal in red and gold armour, wielding a sword of orange light. She crossed blades with the attacker, both of them moving with their unnatural vampire speed. The blades flicked and locked in a blur, parry, push, dodge, she spun from harm's way, realising then that they would wound her if necessary. The other shadow lurched from the opposite wall, she was forced backwards by the two attackers, but she wanted to defeat them without the aid of her Battle Angel. Then, she hoped, they would respect her.

She grasped the Ruhalden immortal by the hair with her free hand, twisting his form as the other attacker drove his blade through the Ruhalden's chest. Blood sprayed as the attacker realised his mistake, but it was not enough blood to kill the wounded one. She gave a swift backhand to the jaw of the unwounded vampire, her superior strength sending him flying across the room to hit the wall with a dull thud. She pushed her sword into the wound of the one she held, saying the words, 'Submit to me and I will spare you.'

The other one was on his feet again, he launched across the room with the ability of flight, but Hayley whipped the blade in the downwards arc of Sickle Moon to cut a wound from the man's left eyebrow to lower cheek. He recoiled in pain, and she forced the one she held to the floor with a metallic clank against the stone. Her strength was so great in the movement that the vampire was knocked momentarily unconscious.

She hurled herself at the other one, moving through sword forms with speed and power, forcing him back in fear. When she locked blades, she quickly grasped his armour, throwing him to the floor and kicking his sword out of reach. She began to pummel his body with both hands, while still gripping her sword hilt in her right fist. 'Surrender!' she shouted, until the man threw up his hands in a pleading gesture as he cried, 'Mercy!'

She repeated the same process on the other one, who was now awake but still sprawled on the floor, 'Give up!' she shouted, as the Ruhalden took quite a beating to his chest and torso before he finally cried, 'I surrender!'

Hayley had won their respect; they had displayed honour in defeat. She breathed the name, 'Druantia.' Claws of vines and leaves burst from the stone walls to grasp the two vampire men, pulling them backwards to slam against the walls as her Battle Angel appeared at her side, in a shimmering gown, with flowing hair like dark fire.

She heard footsteps approaching, men shouting outside the hallway, and she sensed Wil was close. He burst through the door with his golden battle-axe in his fists. His eyes regarded Druantia and the two captives as he strode towards her. Aldebrands poured into the room behind him, seven in total before one shouted, 'Hayley Martyr is safe!' to the others gathered in the hallway.

'I'm sorry I took so long, my darling,' Wil said, as he put an arm around her. 'When Dis Pater warned me you were in danger, I gathered soldiers and Aldebrands while I ran, in case it was more than I could handle alone.' She knew he spoke the truth, her husband could run as fast as a Dremelden Wood Kin, but he was more cautious these days, and would have considered it necessary to bring backup.

Both vampires were immortal men, with the eyes like black seeds from their most recent feed. Both wore the red-and-gold armour, dark coats and grey trousers, with black boots. The taller of the two was the Ruhalden, dark hair in braids tied with beads. The other was Dremelden by his fair hair.

'We should question them before we kill them,' Wil said.

'I already know what they had in mind,' Hayley replied. 'I want them to serve me instead.'

'They can't be trusted,' Wil said. 'Fetch Ael Tarael to Shield-Trap them,' Wil instructed one of the Aldebrands, who pressed a fist to his crimson breastplate before Hayley said, 'I'm not sure that will work, husband. Some Nightwalker abilities work beyond Shield-Spells of teron and terael. If this shadow ability is one of them, it will be difficult to keep them imprisoned.' The Ruhalden smirked at that. Hayley said to him, 'If you swear to serve me, I will hold you under my protection. Do you not wish to be free again?'

'The Covens are free!' the Ruhalden spat the words. 'We answer to no one since Tairark was killed.'

'Tairark still lives,' Wil said. 'Shall I fetch him for you?'

'You lie!' the fair haired one said in disbelief. 'Tairark is no more!'

'That may be true in a sense,' Hayley said, with a grin, 'though, he still lives; and he serves the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.'

'That cannot be true!' the Ruhalden shouted. 'We would sense it if it were true. Tairark's life force is gone from this world.'

'Curious,' Wil said to himself. 'No matter, you will see for yourselves soon enough.'

***

Adem saw the human shadow slide across the far grey stone wall. He unleashed a bar of liquid blue flame from his open palm, the fire struck the wall and a hollow wail sounded as the shadow retreated. Carl stood at his back, gripping his crimson spear as red flames blasted from the tip, aimed at the other shadow on the opposite wall. Again, the shadow retreated, but then both appeared moments later; taking solid human form.

Both drew blades, one that glowed crimson, the other pale green, and launched into an attack. Adem formed a Shield-Sphere, using his thought rather than Angel-Magic, and the crimson blade made a crackling sound as the Shield-Magic pulsed with liquid fire.

Orion rushed to clash blades with the tan skinned vampire, crimson and golden swords releasing hot sparks as both moved with fluid motion through the forms. He heard Tobin clash blades with the other attacker behind him, as Carl and Adem both looked for an opening to hurl another flame attack.

Instead, Adem drew his sword that glowed pale blue, and moved to the opposite side of the vampire. Raven Dives, changing into Bear Claw and then Hawk Moth Flutters. The vampire easily deflected both Orion's and Adem's attacks; this one was exceptional with the blade. Hawk Moth Flutters was necessary to defend himself against the vampire, despite both he and Orion fighting the assassin at the same time. Adem realised he still needed practice at sword fighting; though Arawn and the Arch had gifted him with memories of the lives of ancient warriors of Kismeria. Through these memories his instincts forged him into a great swordsman; in some memories he was even a true Agnar. The effect was a greater knowledge of sword forms, and his reflexes were quicker, but it did not automatically make him anywhere near as skilled as Orion or Tobin.

Out the corner of his eye he saw Carl and Tobin attacking the other one with the green blade, and that one also appeared to be holding them off. Carl dodged the attacks and spun the spear trying to wound or trip his enemy, but that one was also adept at fighting off two men at once.

Lydia and Elmira stood off to one side of the room, both with arms crossed under their breasts, in blue silk gowns and white woollen cloaks. Their expressions suggested they both expected this battle to be over by now. They would not engage the enemy with their own fire attacks however, as this was a match of honour for their husbands to defend them.

Grey Crab, moving into Charging Bull, the sword forms pushed Adem's opponent into retreat, as Orion tried to get an opening to decapitate the vampire. That was the best way to defeat them; it ensured they did not come back to life when your back was turned. Goat Horns then changing into Sickle Moon. Adem was much slower than Orion in his sword forms, but he was fighting with all he had.

This was becoming irritating, so Adem shouted, 'Arawn!' as Carl cried, 'Math Mathonwy!' Two full grown lions of golden fur and dark brown manes appeared behind the vampire, one pulling him to the floor with razor sharp claws and tearing a deep wound through his breastplate. A moment later the second lion bit off the vampire's skull, devouring it in horrid gulps. Adem turned to see two Shadow Hounds standing over the one with the green blade, giant dark wolves that chewed chunks out of the man's throat and tore off his arms, until half the body was devoured. The Lions and Hounds sat back on their hind legs and licked their paws.

'So, I guess we won't be able to question them,' Carl said. Adem grimaced as he stood over the broken body of his opponent. Orion and Tobin were in Alit'aren black coats and trousers, with dark leather boots and the three Rohjor sigils of the Sons of Odin—the Black Wolf, Red Lion and Blue Dragon sigil—on their high collars.

Suddenly Adem was alerted by Arawn of a new danger! 'Kelderath is in trouble!' he said, and then he shouted, 'Llew Llaw Gyffes!'

***

Kelderath was running down a grey stone hallway, with Calliach in pursuit. Adem's Battle Angel, Llew, suddenly appeared, he towered twelve feet tall behind Adem Highlander and Carl Wilder. Wings of fire spread behind the Battle Angel, and he soared over the top of the Sons of Odin. Llew's blade clashed with the Angel of Death, as Carl Wilder shouted, 'Math Mathonwy!'

Shadow Hounds the size of ponies charged down the hallway, biting and clawing at Death's cloak. A red glow surrounded Calliach, and suddenly the four Shadow Hounds recoiled in pain; yelping like startled puppies. The crimson scythe swished across Llew's chest; the Battle Angel fell and the ground trembled. Math Mathonwy appeared, golden armour and cape of blood red fire glowing. He swung his crimson spear; forcing Calliach into a retreat.

'Let him take me!' Kelderath cried, but the Sons of Odin pulled him behind them. Adem shouted, 'We need you!'

Carl shouted, 'Angus!' His dark-kilted Battle Angel appeared, wielding an emerald staff. Angus charged towards Calliach; his staff swinging like a club. Death was forced back by a blast of green fire, as a dull roar ripped the air. The Shadow Hounds had recovered and were howling with rage, when Calliach leapt—both Battle Angels vainly trying to hold him in their grasp—his white bone claws scratching against their armour. A red glow surrounded Calliach, before he struggled free lurching towards Kelderath as Adem shouted, 'Arawn!'

A shadow figure standing ten feet tall appeared before Calliach, swinging his massive crimson blade. Fire Lions tore at his shadow cloak with their teeth and claws; their roars filled the hallway. Two Shadow Hounds pounced from behind—knocking Calliach face down; snarling as they bit into his cloak—then the red glow surrounded his form again. Arawn brought his blade down to hack at Calliach's hooded skull; red flames burst from the sword as the cloak caught alight. Death started to rise again like a dark mist, orange fire flaring up around him. Arawn was smashed to one side by Calliach's sweeping claw.

Adem shouted, 'Shei'heildorth Alfodr!' Kelderath knew the translation from Old Nordic as, 'Spear of Odin!' A white-hot flame flew from Adem's raised right hand; arm pointed like a spear as blue-white fire lanced across the hallway, striking Calliach's heart! The attack flared white in the shadows of the cloak, as his terrible scream filled the air; then in a swirl of shadows and fire, the Angel of Death vanished.

***

Hayley watched Serock, as he stood over the two vampire captives, still entwined in vines via Druantia. Her Battle Angel hovering beside her in an emerald cloak, and blue shining gown, worked with jade leaves. Druantia had seemed more subdued with the curse on terael infecting her mind of late. This worried Hayley; her main concern was the ongoing effects.

Serock wore Alit'aren black today, with brown leather boots. When he stood over these two men, they cowered under his gaze. At first, they did not believe it was him; then something changed their minds in a look he gave them. Then they were truly afraid. It seemed Serock still held some command over the vampire people, whether he chose to exercise that right depended on his proximity to his subjects. After a short while the two captives were forthcoming with all that they knew. The new leader was a vampire named Koncha, formerly a mortal lord from the Southlands. He was old, but not particularly old for a vampire, nor was he considered exceptionally powerful, which intrigued Hayley as to why he was given command. Apparently, he knew things of battle and warfare that were highly regarded amongst the covens.

Hayley found it hard to ignore that there was something alluring about Serock, or Tairark as he was known as the Vampire-King. Perhaps it was the link between him and the curse, that was a part of her soul. So perhaps he had a power of command over her too. For some reason, this did not repulse her. She felt comfortable around him, whether that was a part of his power, or whether she just decided to truly trust the man. His aged immortal face, white hair and moustache also reminded her of her father.

The poor soul who had died before Tairark took over his body must have been old, even for an immortal, to have such pure white hair. His pale eyes were also calming to her nerves, strange as it was to admit. Surprisingly there was gentleness about him. She wondered if this was because Serock's soul was becoming good again. Through good deeds, a person could find redemption for their crimes, she still believed that. It was what kept her balanced between her curse and her mortal soul. She was a vampire, but she was a good vampire.

'I will need to watch them for another two days,' Serock said. 'By then this gift to move as a shadow will have dwindled, due to a lack of human blood. It is safe to feed them goat's blood, to ensure they remain healthy for further questioning.'

'I hope you understand that you will also have to be watched during that time,' Wil said almost as an apology. Serock's control over these attempted kidnappers seemed to elevate Wil's opinion of the man. There was still always the risk that Serock had been sent by Jinn-Fendinn, to win their trust before he committed some devious act of betrayal. For this reason, Serock was still always guarded by six Ael Tarael, who maintained his Shield-Trap, keeping Angel-Magic out of his reach unless there was a need for him to wield. He was also always escorted by four Alit'aren, a diminished guard from his first arrival, though as he earned more trust the level of control over him was reduced.

'I understand, Wil Martyr,' Serock agreed. 'I think it may be necessary for me to speak with Koncha personally on this matter. I wonder if I will be given the freedom to travel alone.'

'I'll need to discuss it with Adem and Carl,' Wil said. 'If you go, it is most likely we will escort you.'

'I fear that would be too dangerous for you,' Serock replied. 'I can handle a few of my own kind, though an entire coven may make things more difficult. Much of my control has faded. I would hope to speak to Koncha about making a peace agreement.'

'You want to make peace with a vampire leader?' Wil asked, as if this was the most ridiculous idea he'd ever heard. Which was odd, considering who he spoke to.

'I would try to reason with him, yes,' Serock replied. 'The Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor will be absent from this world for a thousand years. If Hayley remains alive during that time, or your child, they will both be hunted by vampires until an agreement can be reached.'

'Then I will never return to Earth,' Wil said, before Hayley said, 'We've already discussed this, Wil. You will not survive to see the Ragnarök Battle if you do not return to your home world.'

'That is true,' Wil admitted. 'I just can't bear the thought of leaving you to fight this battle alone.'

'I swear to you no harm shall come to Hayley or her child,' Serock said, 'so long as I am able to protect them. I swear it on the names of all the Great Angels, who bear witness to my pledge. I will not fail you.'

'That is somewhat reassuring,' Wil said slowly. 'Know that if you break your word, I will return, and I will make you suffer.'

Hayley then released the prisoners from their bonds, after being advised to by Serock, and the former Vampire-King led the two men—who were now under his control—to the dungeons, followed by his personal guard. Adem and Carl arrived shortly after, along with Jothar Kelderath, Lydia and Elmira and their husbands. Druantia had informed Hayley that the Sons of Odin had just had an encounter with Calliach; reportedly on a mission to return Jothar to the Realm of the Dead. They all appeared a little shaken from the ordeal. Wil had insisted his Brothers could handle it when they received the alert.

Hayley sensed no drama from Jean's emotions through the kigare, suggesting she was safe and had not been targeted in this attempt. Wil explained Serock's request to go and speak with this Koncha about his desires to kidnap Hayley. Adem warned against allowing Serock to return amongst his people, though Wil argued that it may be necessary to ensure another attempt was not made in future years.

'I'll consider it,' Adem said. After the battle at Hordrin's Corridor, Adem had taken over command completely. All decisions had to be finalised by him. Even Jean had started to submit to his demands, though the relationship between those two was still fragile. Jean was having a very hard time coming to grips with Isabelle's pregnancy. It seemed to signify Adem's betrayal tenfold. If Wil ever betrayed Hayley in the same way, even when he returned to his home world, she would never forgive him. But Adem and Jean were not husband and wife of course. Neither woman seemed to agree that Adem had a right to be with more than one woman, and they both fought over him till their wits were deep fried!

Adem seemed the least troubled, except that Jean's silence towards him seemed to add to his pain. He couldn't function normally without Jean on his side. Adem's sickness was also a concern for all of those close to him. Healing-Magic did not seem to have the same effect since he formed that massive link at Hordrin's Corridor. All those who were joined in the chain also showed signs of being unwell, even the Ael Tarael, which suggested there would be more adverse effects from the female curse.

Two of the Aldebrands who had joined in that link, had been prevented from ever again wielding Angel-Magic, after talking in gibberish, and laughing hysterically for days. They were strapped to hospital beds and held with Shield-Traps during that time, until the decision had to be made. That also fell at Adem's feet these days; as he was expected to uphold the decree as strongly as Jean had, so the final decision rested on his word.

Wil had admitted to Hayley that Adem was planning to use the rebel Alit'aren in this confrontation against the Jinn-Lord, perhaps allowing them to wield the full force of Angel-Magic only that one time. Though, once the Sons of Odin returned to their world, the rebels would surely go against the decree, and the Age of Chaos would begin. Hayley did not know who she would turn to during that time, or where she would go, but Serock's faithful pledge gave her some sense of security. She would need a strong protector for her child most of all.

Chapter 1

Handling Isabelle

Jean rolled her eyes as the Ruhalden Princess threw another drastic tantrum. The dark eyed doll had crimson apple cheeks most of the time, though when she was in a mood, they simply shone! 'Why is it you insist on being so difficult all the time?' Jean asked. 'You know your life is in danger without our protection, and Adem has his other pressing duties, so the role falls to me.' Isabelle began to pout, wearing a crimson silk gown, sewn with pearls, and rubies around the plunging neckline; she never failed to make Jean feel jealous of her looks. Her pale face was framed by dark strands of hair, the rest tied back neatly in a thick braid. 'I just get so frustrated being cooped up like this!' Isabelle shouted, like a spoilt child. 'I need some air, and a walk in the gardens.'

'That is too dangerous,' Terese said. The former Hero of Will wore a dark green coat, so long it served as a short skirt, with the thick black belt around her narrow waist. Her boots were emerald green, with tight leather trousers, dyed a pale cream. Terese was also finding it difficult to act as babysitter to the little troll. Handling Isabelle was a task that required extreme patience, and expert execution of control methods. She was a princess, after all.

'It is also too cold for the baby,' Jean added. The winter snows had arrived a week after the first rains. It had to be the shortest autumn on record.

'Why must I be treated like a child?' Isabelle wailed, stamping her red slippers in frustration. 'I am the Ruhalden Princess! My child will be heir to all the thrones of Kismeria! I should give commands, not take them!'

'The situation has changed, little princess,' Jean replied with a glare. Being reminded that the child was Adem's was always painful for Jean. Hearing it from the mouth of the woman who had seduced him was always a slap in the face. Jean wore a golden yellow coat and skirt today, embroidered with white foxes on the sleeves and hem, white stockings and yellow leather boots.

Terese also wore her sword, and two Ael Tarael sat on cushioned chairs along the wall, with three Alit'aren and two Aldebrands posted outside the door.

They were in Jean's chambers, a large, well-furnished room, with a dresser and mirror of stained oak, cushioned armchairs in front of the roaring fireplace. A chest for her belongings sat at the foot of her four posted bed, with red drapery. Adem had not had the pleasure of enjoying those silk sheets, and if her mood did not change, he never would. She did not know if Adem had spent a night with Isabelle since his betrayal, though she believed she would sense it through the kigare, if he did. She had learnt to shield her emotions from him when she wanted to, he on the other hand, was a flood of mood swings, emanating through their spiritual connection, from sunrise to sunset.

Even when she slept, she felt his emotions, he was in pain, and struggling with his mental health. If only they could find a way to mix up some special potion, to treat his illness in the same way that his medication used to work for him. Chemistry was an arcane art in Kismeria, and mental illness had always been treatable through Healing-Magic. There had never been a need to create a medicinal treatment. She had people working on it though. If they could create something effective, it could be used to treat all male wielders. It was possible a similar medicine would need to be created to treat the curse upon terael.

Jean considered all of this, as she half listened to Terese lecturing Isabelle on how to behave. One thing was certain, if Isabelle had a hard time taking orders from Jean, Terese schooled the little brat like she was her dutiful pupil, and without argument most times. Other times Isabelle could show surprising amounts of decorum. No doubt the result of being tutored by many scholars on the proper manners expected of a princess. She was also well taught in the histories of this world, and at times had provided insights that were appreciated, despite Jean's reluctance to admit it. Jean also knew that Isabelle could be very kind to Adem, which brought her some peace of mind, at this point in time, while Jean was unable to find it in her heart to show him the same forms of kindness. Jean wasn't talking to Adem because of what he did with Isabelle, but in a way, she needed Isabelle to look after him while she wasn't speaking to him.

It was a confusing situation, she wondered if she would ever find the strength to completely forgive him. That would mean inviting him back into her bed, perhaps even marriage when they returned to Earth. But she couldn't think that far ahead now without her disappointment resurfacing. 'Try to relax, Isabelle,' Jean said, 'for the sake of the child.'

'I am relaxed!' Isabelle shouted; her arms crossed under her breasts. 'I'm just bored! Can we go and see what Adem is up to?'

'He's very busy,' Jean said. 'There was an attempt to kidnap Hayley.'

'Who made the attempt?' Isabelle asked with intrigue. Rather than face another tantrum for keeping secrets from the woman, Jean explained all she had learnt from her Battle Angels.

Isabelle had stood with a vague expression on her face for some time until she responded with, 'If the vampires could learn this trick to walk in daylight, we may never live to see the Ragnarök Battle.'

'There is still great strength in the Free Lands,' Terese replied.

'My father should know of this,' Isabelle said. 'Perhaps he can send an army to finish the Vampire Covens once and for all.'

'The last time the Sons of Odin made that attempt,' Terese said, 'things got ugly. We need to find another source of great power first.'

'But Jean says this Koncha intends to invade the Free Lands,' Isabelle said.

'He cannot do that until he learns to walk in daylight,' Jean replied. 'Even the overcast winter months are too bright for their kind in this region.'

'Yes, but if Jinn-Fendinn rises from Kerak'Otozi,' Isabelle replied in a lecturing tone, 'He will cover the Free Lands in dark clouds, from the eruptions of the mountain. Vampires will invade and turn this place into a blood farm.'

Jean had to blink in wonder of the glimpses of deep wisdom that occasionally surfaced through that vapid void that was Isabelle's personality. This was an example of the extensive history the immortal princess would profess at times, that never ceased to amaze Jean, much to her discontent to be bested by the woman. 'You make a good point, Isabelle. It seems we need to speak with Adem after all.'

***

Adem waited patiently for Jean and Isabelle to arrive. Most of the time Jean would not speak to him at all, except in official meetings that she felt required his attention. She also always made a point of trying to dominate over his elevation to power. He did his best to accommodate her needs, but he could not allow his followers to see him buckle under pressure.

Orion and Tobin were standing along the side of the chamber, with their wives. On the right stood Carl, Wil and Hayley, along with a half dozen Aldebrands and seven Alit'aren standing on either side of the entrance.

The former kings and queens were kept close most of the time. He felt a deep trust for those four, and a pain of regret for Jean's decision to renounce their ruling over Nordhel and Tarvel. They were still sore over that ordeal, like four proud lions licking their wounds. Adem was gladdened that they had found the peace of mind to forgive Jean. If she tried something like that against his own ruling, he would not be so light-hearted.

When Jean and Isabelle arrived, with Terese and an escort of Aldebrands and Ael Tarael—Jean always brought female wielders to these meetings, as a sign of her own strength as a ruler—Adem was torn between those two beautiful faces, of the women he loved so immensely. In a way he felt that he still loved Jean more—perhaps because she shied away from his affections of late—but the fact that Isabelle was to have his child and heir to the ruling of Kismeria, was something that made him more caring and protective of the Ruhalden Princess. Today she wore that familiar pout that told him she and Jean had been arguing again. It became less about him, fortunately, and more about their continued disagreement to meet on amiable terms.

Jean opened her mouth to speak but Adem raised a hand to silence her, wearing his most dignified expression, as he then gestured to Lydia, who said, 'We stand in the presence of the Blue Water Dragon, Holy is his name, worthy is his cause. Praise him, bow to him, and show him your servitude. Honour him, love him and obey him.'

Adem sat in a large red cushioned throne worked with gilded leaves on the arms, back and legs, with a large golden dragon emblazoned behind his head. He had found the relic in an old furniture storeroom, after questioning Prince Lune on suitable chairs for his meetings. Jean's and Terese's eyebrows lifted till they might float right off their faces as they heard Lydia's pronouncement, and Jean allowed him to sense her rage building. He'd thought up the words of that entire speech himself, designed specifically to irritate Jean in such meetings.

'Most women won't even agree to "obey" their husbands during their wedding oaths where I come from,' Jean said with a sneer. 'Your head has become quite inflated, Adem Highlander. They say the higher you climb, the further you fall.' That comment brought a cough of warning from Elarja RinHannen, who stood to the left of Adem's throne. The emerald eyed immortal had become First Advisor in Adem's new Dragon Council. Arig Flame-Bow stood to his right, his crimson bow sticking up above his grey coat. Elarja wore a sky-blue coat, and black trousers, with aqua leather boots. The Timestrider had also been kept close since Adem first learnt of his abilities. He was a valuable asset of limitless potential.

Adem smiled at Jean, he assumed she saw his sadness, that reflected to her through the kigare. He could put on a brave face, but he could not hide the pain he felt without her at his side.

'You have summoned me to this meeting, Snow Fox,' Adem began, 'with urgent matters that require my immediate attention. As you know, I have many other things on my mind, so if you could get to the point, it would be appreciated.' Again, he was testing his boundaries with her temper.

Jean then told him what she and Isabelle had discussed earlier, about Fendinn rising and the vampire invasion. Adem had overlooked this. If Kerak'Otozi covered the Free Lands in darkness, the vampires could move northward; spreading their disease in a matter of weeks. Werewolves would be an even bigger problem. Adem shivered in memory of the Battle of Morgrahl Kordahn. He might not be so lucky next time.

'So, my point is that we need to seek out another relic of Odin-Magic,' Jean explained with red in her cheeks. Adem sensed she was still fuming. 'We need one to either defeat the Vampire Covens; or to stop the spread of cloud cover from Kerak'Otozi, or both.'

'Imprisoning Fendinn in Kerak'Otozi will stop the spread of both of those problems,' Adem said, as he felt tension building in his brow. Lydia had provided him Healing-Magic this morning, though his illness was becoming so severe he feared he may become immune to such treatments. Suddenly another fierce migraine started to build in his temples, and he resisted the urge to rub them. It seemed stress could bring them on, and Jean's news brought a torrent of it.

'Nevertheless,' Jean said, 'I feel it is imperative that we divide our forces once more, to search for artefacts that may provide us with the protection or the killing force we need.' That brought a sting of panic to Adem's chest as he asked, 'I hope you're not suggesting that you and I separate again, Jean? Besides, I need my armies strong to prepare for our first confrontation against Fendinn.'

'Is that all that concerns you?' Jean asked.

'No, of course not, you're my concern, Jean, your safety. Think what happened last time we left you alone. It's too dangerous to even consider.'

'Still, I must insist, the need is great, and without such a decision we may not have a chance to find what we require.' Adem wondered what game she was playing with him now. The idea of it incited his temper; suddenly he was fuming, as he slammed his fists upon the arms of the chair, using Angel-Magic to amplify his voice as he shouted at her, 'I am in command! You will do as I say! I am the Chosen One! I am the Saviour! You will obey my word!' He was shouting so hard he was short of breath when he finished, he wore a dark scowl, and he felt his temperature rising. That was an old sign of his true illness surging, when the heat started, his brain started to melt as if hot magma had been poured inside his skull. He clutched the sides of his head, as the pain took hold. His vision had become watery, lost from focus as the burning headache tried to overwhelm him. He heard Elarja's voice as if from afar, 'Lord Adem, you must stay calm. Focus your breathing, try to sense for the Tar'deith.'

'He needs my help!' Lydia cried. He saw a blurred blue-and-white figure approach, felt Lydia's soft cool fingers press down around his skull. Lightning filled him, rivers of ice and fire, he shuddered; flexing his arms. His hands gripped the chair as the Healing-Magic flowed through his psyche. It took longer than the usual daily ritual for his eyes to regain focus, when the headache subsided. Finally, all pain was gone, and the heat and cold ceased to flow through him as Lydia released her hold. 'You're getting worse, Adem Highlander!' Lydia said with a pained expression. 'Your illness is spreading. I fear you will soon lose all control.'

He sat back against the throne as she stepped out of his view. Then his eyes rested on Jean, and he realised she'd been withholding her emotions again, because she looked terrified. Her clear blue eyes were wide and startled, her mouth hung open in a snarl that exposed her perfect white teeth. He allowed her to sense his embarrassment and she regained composure. Isabelle stared at him as if she did not know him.

He noticed Carl and Wil giving each other nervous looks, before they both regarded him with caution. They did not try to approach him; both were probably certain he was so far gone he might try to do them harm. Adem took a long gentle breath. 'I mean what I say, Jean. I won't allow you to go off on your own again. Now, is there anything else you wish to tell me?' Jean stood staring at him with a puzzled expression before anger returned, as she replied, 'I hope you and Isabelle are happy together, Adem Highlander, because you and I never will be.' Adem's anxiety struck hard to hear those words, and what he felt from her was pain, searing terrible displeasure, and floating above that emotion was the return of her fear. She feared him because he was mad.

Jean and Terese then marched towards the doorway, leaving Isabelle standing alone. Isabelle gave Adem a nervous grin; rubbing her hands together as if washing them, a sign of feeling unclean. But there was hope and a gleeful satisfaction to her gaze, now that Jean had finally given up on him.

Her little battle was finally won.

Isabelle ran up the flight of steps to kneel beside his throne and take his hand. She clutched his left hand tightly and stroked his brow with her right. 'You have a temperature, my sweetness,' she said with a fearful tone. 'You mustn't let your temper get control of you like that again. You are the Saviour, Adem, but stating the fact in outrage is well ... madness!' Pain pushed at his chest, constricting pressure upon his breastplate. He looked into her eyes and saw the sweetness of her soul.

Isabelle was special, not because she was a princess, but because she was kindhearted and brave, exceptionally wise and openly affectionate. Strangely however the words that slipped from his tongue were not what he intended to say; 'How can I live without her?'

Distress struck Isabelle's visage, then anger returned. She stood and released his hand, folding her arms under her breasts as she replied, 'I think you should receive your Healing-Magic ten times a day! That way, you will remember to appreciate what you still have, instead of stressing over what you can never have again.' She was dignified in her deliverance; then she turned and glided down the steps on her soft slippers. Carl, Wil and Hayley falling in behind her, as her escort, as she left the chamber. With a heavy sigh, he realised, he'd lost all of his closest companions in one meeting.

Chapter 2

Taming the Dragon

Carl marched behind Wil and Hayley, with Isabelle leading the procession back towards her sleeping chambers. This switching of the guard was common ever since it was learnt that Isabelle was to give birth to Adem's heir. Word was beginning to spread amongst the servants and soldiers, and soon the entire lands would know of this union.

Adem's mood swings were another concern, today's outburst was perhaps the most severe sign of his madness spreading.

As they neared Isabelle's chambers Carl began to itch with the urge to speak with the Court Chemists to discuss creating a suitable medicine for Adem. It was not a field of study for Carl back home, so he didn't know any chemical compound names or their base ingredients.

Carl also had certain insights into the fact that the onset of Adem's condition was also related to girl trouble, and similarly to his current predicament, it had involved not one, but two women. Carl decided he might also need to speak with Jean. Her decision to shut Adem out of her life—since his betrayal with Isabelle—was evidently having a serious impact on his mental health. Perhaps if Jean could show her forgiveness and possibly invite some form of intimacy between her and Adem again, his sense of wellbeing might improve.

Those were of course only some of the environmental triggers that had set Adem off all those years ago when he first became ill. The seed of that illness evidently was sown with their shared experience at Bright, over five years before Adem's illness was diagnosed.

This would suggest the only possible cure for Adem long term, was to discover a suitable medication here in Kismeria, or to get him home to Earth as soon as possible to return him to his regular dose of whatever he was taking. Given that he would need to wield Angel-Magic a lot more before that time, it was most likely that he would get much worse.

If things could be repaired between Adem and Jean, they could possibly move in together and consider starting a family. That would be the best arrangement for Adem. Adem loved Jean more than he realised, and whenever he thought he'd lost her, his condition got worse. Perhaps Adem was also too dependent.

Later Carl sat in one of the smaller lounges, grey stone walls hung with bright tapestries and a roaring fire with a white marble hearth. He and Arig sat and discussed Adem's condition, while Arig looked over a small but fat book about mental illness and known treatments. Carl's meeting with Jean hadn't gone well at all, not that he had expected it to. He thought Terese was resisting the urge to attack him when he suggested Jean become more affectionate towards Adem, proposing that she even bed him to soothe his nerves. That had set Jean off too. Carl had never seen the woman so mad with him, or with anyone. It appeared Jean was badly burned from Adem's betrayal. A compromise was reached when Jean agreed that it was possible her shunning Adem had led to his current state of unease. Jean insisted she would try to be more accommodating towards Adem in meetings, and that she would consider seeing him in private when her own mood settled.

'We need him to be sane for the battle against Jinn-Fendinn,' Carl had said, with great concern. 'All our hopes depend on him.'

'I know this,' Jean replied. 'I will do what I can to bring him back to his senses, but I will not be pushed to sleep with him, no matter the cost.'

'The cost could be everything,' Carl replied.

'I will think on it.'

Arig brought him out of his thoughts on the conversation, when he looked up from his book and asked, 'How long has Adem been like this?'

'Officially, over seven years,' Carl replied. 'Why do you ask?'

'There is something here about the length of a person's illness and how that affects their chances of recovery. It seems the longer he is ill, the less likely he can be cured. It references potions to treat a variety of mental problems but gives no source of ingredients or methods of preparation.' The bookshelf and its contents were among the few remaining in all of Kismeria. The High-Servants and their Hex-Keepers had not been entirely thorough in their elimination of all recorded knowledge. There was still some useful material available on that shelf, though Carl loathed the fact that so many books had been destroyed. It set them back a long way.

'So, we have no new leads,' Carl said. Just then he sensed Adem approaching, and his friend was so close that Carl realised he must've been shielding his connection through the kigare. He heard a knock at the door, then Adem stepped through without being announced by the Aldebrands who stood outside. Arig swiftly climbed out of his chair and did his best to make the book vanish before Adem could inquire about the topic. He was standing at the shelf and pretending to look for another book when Carl stretched in his armchair and said, 'We were just discussing your new ability, the one that only requires ki'mera and does not involve teron at all. Yet it is remarkably similar to Angel-Magic and seems to have even greater potential.'

'I know what you were discussing,' Adem said. 'Arawn informed me on the way here.' Carl had not considered that Math Mathonwy and Angus might speak with Adem's Battle Angels. If Adem caught Carl out in too many lies, it was possible he could again become paranoid. Suddenly Carl realised even those thoughts may be passed to Adem's mind through their Battle Angels. He searched Adem's face for any sign of this.

'Yes, the new ability is strange,' Adem said, 'and wonderful. The best part is that it does not involve Jinn-Magic, so the more I use it, the less likely I am to be effected.'

'That is a positive,' Carl remarked. 'But is it a suitable replacement for Angel-Magic? I mean, will you never need to wield teron again?'

'There are times when Angel-Magic feels more accustomed to what I want to do, and vice versa with the new ability. I call it thought into manipulation of matter and energy.'

'I see,' Carl said, 'and I have seen that you are able to create dragons. I wonder ... try creating one now, a smaller one, and I will see if I am able to stabilise its energy to make it something permanent. Now, Adem, show me what you can do.'

Carl waited, as Adem stared at the red carpet over the stone floor for a while, with his hands behind his black coated back. Then something changed in Adem's blue eyes, they appeared to shine for a moment, similarly to the permanent effect of immortal eyes. Then in the centre of their small circle, a green light formed to become the scaled emerald hide of a dragon about the size of a small dog. Its eyes were jet black and bulged out of its crocodile head, with blue wings and a blue beard and claws. Its neck and tail were long and sinuous like a snake, with a bulk of a green body; strong hind legs similar to a horse, forearms muscular like a clawed human limb. Its underbelly was also pale blue, and fang shaped plates ran from the back of its head to its tail, with ears like batwings, green on the back and deep blue on the inside.

The creature made a gleeful sound similar to a whining dog, and then it began chasing its tail in circles before Carl began to wave his hands above the little dragon, speaking softly as he worked an enchantment over its form. Light began to glow around the creature, and it halted and stared at the light around it, as if in wonder. First the light was pure white, then emerald and aqua, crimson flares began to weave around the light, then mauve and orange light. The light became so fierce only Carl was able to keep looking upon it, as Adem and Arig shielded their eyes. The little dragon made more grunts and snorts, as it gazed at the light as if it were the beginning of life; and in a way, it was!

The dragon was now a living breathing creature, made of flesh and bone. It could live for as long as ... he wasn't sure how long dragons lived. There were no more of its kind in this world. Once the spell was complete Carl sensed great magic from the little dragon, and he immediately sensed that his own ability with teron had increased. It seemed Angel-Magic and dragons were linked; with the life of dragons, wielders' strength was greater. This intrigued him, though he refrained from suggesting they make another in case it also increased the strength of Jinn-Magic.

'Amazing,' Adem breathed the words. His eyes were rimmed with darkness. He looked hollow, broken and not at all his usual self. Still, the little dragon seemed to kindle hope in Adem's eyes. 'What should we name him?' Carl thought for a while; then he suggested, 'What if we call him Kerend'harthiel?' It was an Old Nordic name, meaning 'First and last of his kind.' Adem considered the name before he replied, 'He says his name is Shienden'kroxus, it means Dragon-Sword.' Carl gave Adem a puzzled look; then he asked in wonder, 'He can speak to you?'

'In my mind,' Adem said. 'It is similar to the kigare connection. He calls me Father.' That brought a relieved smile to Adem's eyes. Perhaps this little creature could become the source for Adem's recovery.

'What else does he tell you?' Carl asked with interest.

'He says he has been here before; he thinks he is reborn.'

'That is fascinating!' Carl remarked. 'Every life requires a spirit, so this one must've borrowed one from an ancient dragon. I sense Angel-Magic is stronger in me now. Do you also?'

'Yes,' Adem said. 'Arawn says dragons have always increased the magic in the world, for good and for evil. We will be stronger, but Fendinn will also.'

'Should I reverse the spell?'

'No, it is better to have him on our side. Will he get bigger?'

'Can't he tell you that?' Carl asked.

'He isn't sure. He says long ago he was much larger, the biggest dragon to ever live.'

'That sounds promising. But where shall we keep him?'

'The wielders will find a home for him,' Arig said. 'It will take a long time for him to reach full size. This is a good omen. A dragon will be needed at the Ragnarök Battle.'

'Why will we need him?' Adem asked.

'He will be our champion,' Arig said. 'His fire will be the only thing that can harm the Jinn-Lord, except for you, Adem.'

'You mean my magic will be useless against Fendinn?' Carl asked, with concern.

'Only the Fire-Magic of the Blue Water Dragon can really harm the Jinn-Lord,' Arig explained, 'that and Dragonfire and the Magic of Odin. When the Lightning-Lord defeated Him, Jinn-Fendinn became almost immune to all other Great Angels. Only Adem can defeat Him now, but he will require assistance from Odin.' This news only increased Carl's determination to see Adem returned to full health. The battles ahead were entirely reliant upon his ability to fight with a clear mind.

'So, what parts do Wil and I have to play?' Carl asked Arig.

'You are also crucial to Adem's success in those battles. He will require your knowledge and your powers to hold back the demons that try to stand between him and the Jinn-Lord.' That gave Carl a greater sense of purpose. He was still important; he was glad to know his role.

Shienden'kroxus was snorting and whining again, flicking his tail in the air as he sat up on his hind legs like an adoring puppy.

'Is he speaking to you?' Carl asked Adem, to which his friend replied, 'He says he is hungry. He says he likes fresh meat, chicken, beef, lamb, fish, he wants it all.'

'Well, the least we can do is keep him well fed,' Carl said. 'He seems fondest of you, Adem; perhaps you should lead the way.'

'Follow me to the kitchens, Shienden'kroxus!' Adem said, and then he turned to march for the door as the little creature scurried along behind him with his tail lashing the air like a frenzied whip.

Chapter 3

To Earn a Following

Hayley moved towards the cells where the vampires were imprisoned under the watch of Serock. Wil moved at her side with a cautious look to his eyes, wearing a golden breastplate: dark coat and trousers. Hayley wore a crimson gown she had changed into for this meeting. She wanted to remind these creatures that she was one of them. They had turned her maid who normally brought her morning cup of blood. She wanted to punish them for that more than anything; the old woman showed her deep fear when they found her with bite marks in her neck. She offered Tildra a continued place as her servant; she would not let the Sons of Odin turn her away to become a wretched creature of the night.

Four Ael Tarael stood guard around Serock. Another two sat on a stone bench, beside the cell door, where the two men were enclosed behind bars: beds of straw against either wall. The two men were on their feet however, they had been hours without a drop of blood, to reduce their abilities, and now their eyes were human in appearance, the Ruhalden's large dark orbs and the Dremelden's pale green.

Hayley stood in front of the cell and said in a commanding voice, 'Leave us. I want to speak with them in private.'

'I told you I wouldn't agree to this,' Wil interrupted, but Hayley gave him a scalding stare as she replied, 'This is something I have to do, husband. Please, try to understand.' Wil grimaced as his right hand traced the blunt head of his axe with his thumb, then he moved out of sight and stood leaning against a wall shrouded in shadows. Hayley indicated to the Ael Tarael, and they too made a short journey away from the cell, to whisper to one another as they kept a watch over Serock. The former Vampire-King was the last to remain, and she decided he could help her be persuasive with these two, so she allowed him to stay.

'I wonder; what will you do now that your mission has failed?' She addressed that first question to the Ruhalden. The dark-haired man blinked a number of times as if he didn't understand, then he replied, 'I imagine we will face questioning; then burnt at the stake.'

'That is a likely outcome,' Hayley remarked, 'but it doesn't have to be that way.'

'What are you offering?' the Ruhalden asked.

'I'm offering you a chance to escape the bonds of your masters. You have already submitted to me, now I want you to swear to serve me.'

'What would we gain from this bargain?' the Dremelden asked, as the Ruhalden shouted, 'Don't listen to her! It's a trick!'

'What trick would there be in a request for an Oath of Servitude?' Hayley asked with that sly smile on her lips. 'I offer you peace with the people of the Free Lands, and the right to shelter and sustenance in any town or village, and you shall be treated as a guest in the great keeps and cities. What say you?'

'I will swear,' the Dremelden said.

'Don't be foolish!' the Ruhalden snapped.

'Our only other option is death!' the Dremelden cried to his companion. 'I will choose life no matter what the consequences.' Then he got down on one knee, with eyes fixed on Hayley as he said, 'I, Folinx Berethedel, swear by the names of all the Great Angels, in the High Realm and the Low, to serve Hayley Martyr till the end of time, to be her sword and shield to protect her from any danger, to offer counsel and wisdom when asked, and to live a life of a free man, in a service I have chosen.'

'There, that wasn't so hard, was it?' Hayley said with an amused grin. The oath was more than she had expected, though she considered these creatures could be crafty with their words. She addressed the Ruhalden as she said, 'I offer your life, to serve me and my cause, or you may choose death.'

The Ruhalden's eyes burnt with rage, he clasped hands over the bars with long dark nails like claws as he replied, 'I have no fear of death. I serve my master, till death.'

'How can I persuade you then?' Hayley remarked with a finger to her lips. 'Would you swear to the woman who bested you in combat?'

'That has already happened,' snapped the Ruhalden, 'and my decision is made. I will die in service to the Vampire Covens. Our dream to rule this land will never die, so long as there are men like me who will choose death over peace.'

'There may not be many of you left, if men like you persist for much longer,' Serock said. His stare made the Ruhalden flinch, and then the man asked his former master, 'Why have you joined these fools? The High-Jinn will destroy them soon enough. If not, the madmen Alit'aren will turn the Free Lands to blood and fire.'

'You speak like a Prophet,' Serock said, weighing the man behind bars with his gaze. 'I chose the side of the living, in the hope that I too may live. I was wrong to turn from the All-Father. Do you not fear judgement?' The Ruhalden released his grip on the bars, moving back a pace as if in shock of Serock's words, then he placed a hand over his heart as he replied, 'I believe the Nightwalkers have already been judged. We are doomed to walk the earth, murdering others to stay alive. We are hell incarnate. I know my fate when I die, and I welcome it.'

'So brave,' Hayley said. 'But surely you believe in the chance of redemption. Were you such a bad person before the curse fell upon you?'

'I was ... a ship's captain,' the Ruhalden said. 'I had no wife, but there was a woman that I loved dearly.'

'What became of her?' Hayley asked with interest, the man's confessions spoke of the reminiscence of his human soul. Love was a deep human emotion, vampires were selfish creatures; they had great desire, but felt no more for their brides.

'There were three vampire stowaways on board,' the Ruhalden said with a vexed sigh. 'They gave me the option of joining them or being bled dry. So, I joined them. The next day I asked Carellia to do the same. She jumped overboard when she learned what I had become. She told me she would rather drown than love me another minute. I dived in to try to save her, but she was hit by a huge wave that pulled her under. It was night, but I could still see her down there in the dark depths as I swam to her rescue. She was already dead before we reached the surface, so I let the sea take her.'

'And you have never taken a bride since then?' Hayley asked.

'I never felt the same way about any other woman. Vampire brides are lacking in the qualities I remember in her.'

'Tell me your name,' Hayley said.

'Larg Keledren, my Lady,' the man replied.

'You honour me, Larg,' Hayley said with a smile. 'You seem to me a man who needs a cause to follow, discipline, and I believe you also have the capacity to be good again. What would you require to agree to serve me?'

Larg thought on this for a time before he replied, 'Make me a general for the armies of the Sons of Odin.'

Hayley grinned at his eagerness before she said, 'My offer is for you to serve me, and my cause, which is separate from the goals of the Sons. Would you be satisfied if I made you High General of my Coven?'

Larg appeared stunned as he asked, 'You mean you plan to take on more followers? Do you intend to become the next Head Vampire?'

'I intend to give any vampire who attempts to take my life the same ultimatum I gave you. Those that agree shall join my forces, those that refuse, shall die.' Larg stared at Hayley then Serock for some time, until he gave a deep sigh and got to one knee, then stated the same oath as Folinx. When he finished, he stayed on the ground with his eyes lowered until Hayley said, 'A clever choice, Larg Keledren, High General of the Martyr Coven. You may rise.'

***

Adem sat at the dining table that was not as grand a feast as their hosts liked to prepare, with small dishes of sliced roasted meats, whole salmon and trout garnished with lemon, along with an assortment of breads and cheese slices. Carl sat beside him with Tobin and Orion and their wives seated opposite. Shienden'kroxus sat on the floor beside Adem's chair, the little dragon feasting on platters of fish, lamb, turkey and ham. He had quite an appetite for so little a dragon, and he gulped down every mouthful with his tail lashing in the air. Adem liked the dragon, he had owned few pets in his life, but Shienden'kroxus reminded him of a faithful little dog that required much love and attention. He found his mood had changed slightly since Carl had assisted in giving life to his new pet. He felt calm again, and slightly amused by the behaviour of the magical creature.

What concerned him most was how to win back Jean's affections. His first battle against Fendinn was looming, and he feared standing against his greatest opponent without Jean's love to guide him. But it was his fault, he had betrayed her love, and now Isabelle was to have his child. In a way he was excited about being a father, and he wondered at the life his son would live with the expectations of this entire world rested on his shoulders. Adem knew the child was male; of course, as he had insisted Arawn confirm it despite Adem's hesitations about such knowledge being considered bad luck.

He had not decided on a name yet, nor had he informed Isabelle that she was to give birth to a son. He would be able to wield Angel-Magic most certainly, and he would be half immortal, suggesting a very long life with teron to sustain him. He wondered at the fate of his child that he may never know. He hoped he could stay in this world long enough to spend some time with the boy before he returned home. Of course, he also wondered at his capabilities at fatherhood.

'What reports do you have on the Green Border situation?' Adem asked Carl, who was chewing a mouthful of dried fruit. Carl cleared his throat, and then said in a respectful tone, 'Demon movement continues on the borders of Korhad and Kareldon. The north is assembling forces to push them back in that region. We are set to march east tomorrow at dawn.'

'Do you suggest we take Jean, or leave her to guard Isabelle?'

'That is a tricky question,' Carl admitted. 'Isabelle needs our protection, but Jean does also. Whether we take Jean or leave her behind, either way, both women will be in serious danger.'

'What if Hayley remains to guard them also?'

'That would mean leaving them under Serock's guard, and if things get messy, well ... I still don't trust the man.'

'I agree,' Adem said. 'So, should we bring the lot of them?'

'I didn't realise my duties included telling you how to manage your girlfriends. Perhaps you should discuss it with them.' Carl wore that slightly amused grin of his.

'I have to make those decisions for them,' Adem said. 'It is up to me to ensure that they both remain safe. Neither of them seems to care enough about self-preservation and all they want to do is charge into battle at my side.'

'Isabelle waving the banner of the Blue Water Dragon, no doubt,' Carl was still grinning in that way.

'I'm trying to be serious, Carl. It is difficult to work out the safest option. Sure, Terese is strong, and smart, but she would be helpless against Calliestra if she returned with a few extra Hex-Keepers on her side.'

'Two dozen Ael Tarael, fifty Alit'aren, a hundred Aldebrands, and soldiers posted on every hallway and door leading to their chambers. That would suffice with Hayley and Druantia to back up Jean's Battle Angels.'

'Possibly,' Adem said, 'but what if they bring a few Hex-Warlords too?'

'Then we take them with us,' Carl said, sounding irritated, although Adem knew he took the lives of those two women very seriously. 'But you risk making both women a target on the battlefield. If you lose your heir, you and Isabelle would be heartbroken to say the least. If we lose the Daughter of Thor, well, then we lose it all.'

'I won't let that happen,' Adem said. 'They are my responsibility. When Jean was taken by that sleeping spell ... I thought I'd lost her forever. Can you imagine how that felt, after I betrayed her?'

'I can't say I know those exact feelings,' Carl said. 'We'll take them with us and do our best to keep them safe.'

'Should we take a larger force?'

'Perhaps, but that includes the problem of a large-scale retreat: if things get out of our control. I will add another fifty Ael Tarael, and a personal guard of thirty Alit'aren, and two hundred Aldebrands for the women.'

'That should do it,' Adem said, suddenly feeling his hunger really kick in after his morning Healing-Magic. He reached for some slices of roast lamb in gravy and layered it into an open roll with butter. They were mostly drinking water these days, as the apple cider was more potent than wine, and they wished to keep their wits about them in case of another attack. He savoured the hot gravy and lamb in the melted butter and bread, his stomach groaning as he tried to steady his bites to maintain adequate manners. He was soon reaching for another roll when Shienden'kroxus sent to his mind: Will I be joining you on this mission?

You are still a little fellow, Adem replied through the connection similar to the kigare. I would rather you stay here and mind the fort while we take care of things until you are a bit bigger.

Shienden'kroxus snorted with a disappointed look to his large dark eyes.

You would be surprised, Father. I may be young, and small, but I have great strength in me.

All the more reason we should keep you safe until you are a little larger, then. Adem didn't like giving commands to the little dragon. Already their bond seemed to affect his emotions more strongly than his connection to his Battle Angels. When the dragon's emotions changed, Adem felt them change, making him realise the strength of their bond. As he thought about it, he realised it may be because the dragon was his creation. So, in some small way, the dragon was a part of himself, like a son with the same attributes. It was possible the dragon was a part of his own mind, as he was created from Adem's thought.

Shienden'kroxus snorted again and then swished his tail excitedly as he returned to devouring the platters piled before him. Adem gave a soft chuckle, perhaps this little creature could serve as the one companion he could truly trust.

Chapter 4

The Dragon's Need

Adem was seated in his chamber, in front of the fire, when he heard a knock, and asked, 'Who is it?' He was busy speaking with Shienden'kroxus and didn't want the interruption. Then he heard the Aldebrand outside the door calling back, 'The White Snow Fox requests an audience with the Blue Water Dragon.'

Adem nearly leapt out of his chair; then he calmed himself, and asked, 'Where does she want to meet me?' Then he heard Jean's voice calling out with an impatient tone, 'I am here, Adem! I want to talk to you.'

This time Adem did leap out of his chair! Shienden'kroxus wore a puzzled expression, with his brows turning downwards, and his head raised high above his body.

'Then enter, please, Jean.' There was hope in his voice that he could not hide from her. The door opened, and the Aldebrand, Harlton, black of hair with dark eyes, held it out wide as Jean stepped into the doorway.

He felt a lump in his throat that made it hard to swallow, Jean looked amazing! Her hair was in twin braids, thick golden patterns she had learnt from Lydia and Elmira. Her deep blue eyes sparkled like warm ice and she smiled as she stepped into the room and gave a deep curtsy. 'May I request this audience with you, Adem Highlander?' Adem smiled back, feeling relieved for the first time in a while, though it seemed at that moment the only good time he could remember.

'I am honoured by your presence, Lady Jean,' Adem replied, gesturing to the other red cushioned couch for her to sit, with the intention of sitting next to her on the two-seater once she was settled. 'Please sit, shall I order refreshments?'

'You talk like you're a hundred years old,' Jean said as she moved to seat herself on the sofa. She wore an emerald silk gown with white pearls around her neck with a low-cut neckline to display ample bosom. A belt of silver leather surrounded her narrow waist, and he was gazing down at her sparkling white shoes when he heard Terese utter from the doorway, 'I'll be listening in on you two. Keep it clean.' Jean waved her away with a gesture and Harlton pulled the door shut.

Shienden'kroxus immediately rushed to jump on the sofa beside Jean, begging in a whining tone for love and cuddles. 'He likes you a lot,' Adem said, after giving the name of the dragon to Jean. 'He says you are the most beautiful woman in all his memories.'

'You are too kind, Shienden'kroxus,' Jean said. 'A happy little fellow you are, aren't you?' She gave him gentle strokes across his scales that made him curl up close to her making gentle snorting sounds. This was not going at all the way Adem had intended. He tried telling the little dragon, with his thoughts, that he had wanted to sit next to Jean. Shienden did not respond; and continued his undeniably cute noises of comfort and contentment.

'Did you have something you wished to discuss?' He asked in a casual way, keeping a tight rein on his temper.

'I told you I want to talk to you, Adem. How have you been feeling lately? We're all more than a little concerned for you these days.'

'So, you wanted to discuss my mood?'

'That, and other things as well,' she said as she batted her eyelids that accentuated her long eyelashes. Adem was aghast, and he asked, 'So you have come to tell me you forgive me?'

'I have forgiven you, Adem.'

'So, does this mean we can go back to how things were?'

'Forgiveness is not the same as being able to forget,' Jean said. 'I am still deeply hurt by your actions. But I understand that bad feelings between us could unsettle you, so I am here to declare peace.'

'You're all dressed up,' Adem said as he admired her figure, then he looked in her eyes and saw real warmth glowing there as she stared back and said, 'Yes, I wanted to surprise you. I have been speaking with Carl about your condition, and he feels it may require my extra special care to nurse you back to health.'

Adem's brows nearly jumped off his face as he asked, 'Does this mean that we can—'

She cut him off, saying bluntly, 'Do not suppose that I will give myself to you unless I consider it vital to the hope of the Free Lands. I am a woman of duty nowadays, Adem. I want what is best for the people.'

'I wouldn't want you to give yourself to me for any other reason than your own desire,' Adem replied. 'I love you, Jean. I still do, I just, I made a big mistake, and I've been paying for it ever since.'

'It will teach you a lesson, then,' Jean replied as she fixed him with a narrow gaze. 'However, the people must be first on my list of priorities, and the people require a sane hero. So, on this evening, I am all yours, Adem Highlander, to do with as you wish. I won't promise it will happen again but depending on the effects of the treatment I shall consider administering further rehabilitative care.'

Adem thought for some time before he gave a response, the thought that kept buzzing around inside his head was: If I can have another shot at Jean, I'll take it no matter the circumstances! He told himself he was a boorish oaf for even thinking such things, and he said, 'You have to want me, Jean. You have to commit yourself, mind, body and soul. I can't ask you to do that as a duty to the people! I can't accept your offer unless you show me that you truly forgive me and show me the love, we once felt for each other.'

'That could require more time,' Jean said. 'You betrayed our love.' Shienden lifted his snout and made disapproving snorting noises, with a little fire kindled in his large black eyes. 'You see, he understands,' Jean said, still stroking the little animal's scales. 'First, you have to show me that you are truly sorry for what you have done. No more playing Lord of the Castle, no more high demands of servitude and honouring the all-knowing Dragon.'

'I promise I will remove all such formalities from our meetings,' Adem agreed. That voice kept telling him to say whatever was necessary. He got down on one knee and said, 'I am truly sorry for what I have done, Jean,' with his arms outstretched. 'I can't find it in my heart to forgive myself, so if you can't show me true forgiveness, I am lost and alone.'

'You're not alone,' Jean replied. 'You have armies, advisors, even a pet dragon. We all love you, Adem; we're just worried you're ... starting to crack.'

'I feel much better, now that you are here, Jean.'

'And I will feel better when I see you return to your senses. Now, sit on the bed, and I will agree to some light kissing and holding one another. Is your dragon going to stay and watch?'

'Shienden never leaves my side,' Adem said. 'If you are truly committed to this service, you will have to get used to him being present, the whole time.'

'Just some light kissing then,' Jean said with an uncomfortable grin.

***

Jean moved to sit beside Adem on the bedcovers. He looked dark around the eyes, and pale skinned, a haunted look to his gaze. But when she sat and touched his face with her left hand, he reached up to take her hand and kissed her knuckles. 'When you're ready,' she said. She really didn't mind Shienden'kroxus staying in the room and watching, but it still made her uncomfortable at the thought of where this evening might lead.

Adem leaned in to kiss her lips, and she kissed back, gently. It brought back memories of those first days they gave themselves to each other. She felt pain again at the thought of his betrayal, but his kisses were sweet, he was still quite the romantic, and his touch was affectionate, needing.

He pulled her down over the bed and rolled on top of her, they kissed again after he gazed into her eyes with his burning blue orbs. Suddenly his mood had altered, he looked confident again, at ease with his thoughts. Time drifted, and she began to become conscious of the dragon watching.

She heard Shienden making vibrating sounds in his throat—after feeling his gentle footsteps when he leapt onto the bed—and she looked over to see his front claws spread over the sheets, and his head raised and staring moon eyed at them both.

Suddenly the door burst open, she had not heard voices being raised outside, but when she looked up; Isabelle entered the room with a storm in her gaze. She was cold blooded fury welled up to explosive proportions. Jean was certain she was blushing when she pushed Adem away and sat upright, brushing the long sleeves of her gown in a delicate manner as she stared cross-eyed at Isabelle.

'Am I to be mother to the heir of Kismeria, and share you with every doll faced pretty that walks the halls?' Adem gathered himself as he sat up and said, 'Now that's out of line, Isabelle, Jean and I were just ... we were making a pact.'

'I saw what you were doing!' Isabelle shouted with jealous rage; then she looked to Jean and said, 'You said earlier that you were done with him. Now you're throwing yourself at his greed?'

'I think we all need to sit down for another long talk,' Jean said as she checked her pearl earrings—

Dark shadows rose on the walls to surround them in the lantern light, human figures that caused Adem to shout, 'We're under attack!'

Terese charged into the room with immortal speed, and raced to Jean's side, to hand over her emerald bow, that housed the spirit of one of her Battle Angels. In those fleeting moments, she heard Adem shout, 'Arawn!' The shadows took full form, to reveal dozens of vampires, leaping for them from the walls! Fire Lions appeared, to leap upon some of the attackers, biting and clawing to tear vampire flesh to shreds as dark blood flowed. Jean moved with lightning reflexes to unleash arrows of emerald flames that struck the hearts of three armoured men, they died with holes burned through their chests. Dozens more appeared—first as shadows that took human form—and were leaping from the walls to fly towards them as Jean shouted, 'Tanriel!'

Crimson Flame Spears flew from above Jean's form in multiple directions, skewering vampires through the heart to pin them to the walls as their flesh melted off their bones; collapsing into burning piles of ash. Six Aldebrands were already in the room and they and Terese were surrounding Isabelle.

Blades flared brightly in the shadows as more vampires launched from the walls. Aldebrands moved with supernatural speed as they cut down dozens of the assassins in execution style defences. Arawn loomed ten feet tall in his shadow cloak and scaled armour, silver rune-marked skull-mask and gauntlets, unleashing shards of burning light from his open hands, the blades sprayed outwards to punch through vampire bodies that dropped as burning skeletons.

Dozens more appeared and leapt forwards; Arawn and Tanriel holding off most, while Jean continued to fire emerald arrows and Adem threw bolts of lightning in multiple directions at once—the blue flames appeared wherever a vampire took form—burning holes through flesh; the assassins fell like flies. Jean could sense Hayley's alert nature. Tanriel confirmed that Hayley was the real target. Then she told Jean that Adem's orders were to remain here and form a defence: Hayley and Wil can take care of each other.

***

Hayley unleashed a flurry of golden arrows from her bow. Vampires were appearing by the dozen, first as shadow forms, then becoming solid human figures, that leapt through the air, with burning blades or daggers in their fists. The alert had come from Druantia only seconds before the first shadows appeared, fortunately Wil had been with her at the time, and he stood at her back, unleashing golden arrows with the speed of a Dremelden Archer.

They both fired arrows aimed at stunning the enemy, Hayley wanted to keep as many of them alive as she could manage. Druantia also focused on tying up vampires with her vines and leaves, coiling like live serpents to trap and hold them until Hayley could force them to submit. Her Battle Angel hovered in the space between her and Wil, also unleashing jade arrows from an emerald bow. The jade arrows stuck in the vampires and weakened them, paralysing them as they lay twitching on top of one another on the carpet. She would gain a few more followers out of this.

She sheathed her bow, drew her sword as Wil reached for his axe, shouting, 'Eledisren!' Dis Pater appeared as a dark shadow standing ten feet tall, ebony scaled armour, silver monkey skulls hanging across his deep chest plates. The Battle Angel's massive golden axe appeared in an orange burst of flame, as his hands whirled to lift the weapon and strike at enemies with the butt of the haft. The effect dropped the vampires and stunned them, as Druantia's vines reached out to grasp them. The walls were crawling with green foliage, as creepers scaled the grey stone. It was becoming an inside garden, filled with vampires moving in sporadic spasms, while trapped in coils.

Wil shouted, 'Bran!' and Bran appeared as a blue armoured man looming over them like Dis Pater, he wore a golden helmet that surrounded his eyes and curved down like a bird of prey, a golden spear appeared in his hand, and he swung it left and right to knock out vampires that were flying down from the ceiling! Bran was also preserving the lives of his attackers; they knew the plan.

Four vampires made it as close as Hayley's blade's end, two focusing on her as she moved into the forms, Wil reacting to start hacking at the green shields and dark wicked armour the four wore. All had enchanted blades, glowing aqua, emerald, violet and crimson. She guessed they were high up in their ranks as all four were gifted with the blade, she slashed and parried left and right, using her superior strength to ward one off while she tried to deal with the other. Wil was having similar problems when Dis Pater silenced the first two with heavy slams of the end of the axe handle, when Bran spun the spear and gave two hard whacks, to each of the evil looking, ebony helmets, of the two that had been opposing her up till this point. Clanging of armour followed, but it was overpowered by the wailing that began. Scores of voices starting up, the cries of tortured souls, thirsting for blood.

She would make many followers out of this day!

***

Carl was charging down a hallway, headed for Adem's chamber, when a vampire launched from the wall! He aimed his spear, a bolt of red flame piercing the heart of the attacker: he collapsed to become a pile of red ash. Another launched from the left, and he dealt with it in the same way. More were appearing; dozens of shadows moved along the walls, four sprang forwards, two of his Aldebrands crossing swords with the assassins as Carl shouted, 'Math Mathonwy!'

The golden armoured Battle Angel appeared in a flare of coloured flames, wielding his giant crimson Hellfire Spear, as half a dozen black lava-skinned Shadow Hounds launched from his form; pushing down vampires and biting their skulls off. Carl knew of Hayley's wish to preserve the lives of these vampires, as she wanted to form her own Coven. However, much as it pained Carl to kill, he would not risk being bitten by one of these creatures, so he gave them all the death penalty.

Math Mathonwy moved beside Carl as he continued down the hallway, his Aldebrands flanking him, further back, with two in front. Vampires flew towards him, as Math's spear swung to cleave heads from shoulders, and split torsos in two! Blood flowed, like a river around his feet. The stench of death was repugnant.

***

Hayley saw Serock enter the chamber, striding forwards in Alit'aren black coat and trousers, his sword sheathed in the boar hide scabbard at his waist. The white-haired man moved to stand beside Wil and Hayley, with Druantia guarding the other side. Hayley expected him to start attacking, as they three were all desperately fighting for their lives. She sensed the six Ael Tarael who trailed in after him had released him from his Shield-Trap. He raised his right hand, and red flames burst from his closed fist, as swarms of vampires flew towards them, Dis Pater and Bran guarding their outer circle and knocking the attackers to the floor with their enchanted weapons.

Hayley was slashing at those that flew towards her with her crimson sword, only wounding them enough to make them lay still as their bodies began to heal. The wailing of the vampires was overpowering, it was a haunting sound, even making her uneasy. Then the flame in Serock's fist exploded outwards in a sphere, striking the walls, where the vampires were appearing, as shadows that took solid form. When the red flame touched those walls, a flood of vampire bodies spilled onto the blood-soaked floor. It seemed Druantia could not contain those vines enough to avoid crushing some of her captives like ripe fruit. Suddenly, the battle was over, the wailing had ceased, and no more shadows appeared on the vine covered walls.

Hayley gazed around the room at the bounty that lay before her. If she could convince every survivor to serve her, she would have a Coven of over two hundred vampire followers. Serock appeared to look upon them with sorrow, it seemed the man could not help but feel regret for the path he once took. She believed he had changed. She believed he was good again.

Chapter 5

The Gambit of War

Wil sat his mount, his keen sight studying the scorched brown fields and barren grey earth, of the Borderlands. It seemed life was being sucked out of this place, and the apparent infection on plant life seemed to be spreading further west. Carl had told him more than once that he believed they were signs of the Jinn-Lord growing in strength, suggesting he would soon break free from Kerak'Otozi.

Hayley rode beside him on her white mare, today she wore a shimmering blue silk gown, with her dark hair tied back in a thick braid, similar to Terese Sapphire-Sword. Jean and her entourage rode close to Hayley, with a heavy guard surrounding them, mostly formed of Ael Tarael, Alit'aren and Aldebrands.

Their forces had made a swift journey eastward, after leaving Korhad two hours before first light. Their altherin horses made the journey shorter than mortal horses would allow, and they would remain fit and able to make an escape if things got nasty. Heavy cavalry flanked them with light cavalry, pike men and archers forming the front wedge of their forces. Horsemen further back were armed with various weapons, long swords at their waists or axes or spears, some with broadswords over their shoulders, and bows in cases, hanging from their saddles. A large portion of those riders were Aldebrands, or other forms of Agnars, including Dremelden Archers. Wood Kin were also part of the ranks that would use bows and arrows to cut down the demon advance, led by Lord Farrigan and Lady Gwyndel.

Wil spotted a scattering of Nymloc crossing the fields in the distance, close to the mountain ranges that formed the Green Border. Scouts reported large forces of Boli-Kuldr further north, and they would pursue them and push them back to the East Lands, or slaughter every last one of them, but for now, the armies' attention was focused on this small demon gathering.

Adem had called the army to a halt, just to investigate the nature of this demon sighting. If it was another trap, Wil wasn't sure where the demon forces would emerge from, as the mountain ranges in this region did not permit any passageways. The demons would need to scale the steep mountain cliffs to invade.

The sky worried them all too. Those dark clouds from the eruptions of Kerak'Otozi were also spreading westward, allowing demon migration for Nymloc and Jacoulra that normally could not walk in daylight. The clouds were thick black blankets lined with silver and gold edges, blotting out the sun and casting a grey haze over the Borderlands. If those clouds continued to advance, the spring crops might fail to yield in this part of the world.

For now, the entire continent was covered in thick blankets of white snow however, winter had arrived, and the land was returning to a natural cycle of seasons. Here the snow was only seen in patches, the earth itself was heated this close to the East Lands, where pools of magma bubbled in the cracked barren soil.

They watched as the Nymloc horde retreated to the base of the mountains and began to scale the steep stone edges to burrow into crevices and small cave openings that provided their escape. Most likely they were just separated from the main invading forces and decided to flee rather than face such a huge force of warriors.

The other thought that plagued his mind were the hordes of vampires that also served as a personal guard for Hayley. The presence of those cursed creatures put almost everyone else on edge, with his wife the only one who seemed content with the situation. After last night's battle, she'd spent hours in discussion with the survivor Nightwalkers, giving them all the option to follow her, or die. Every survivor had chosen to follow her, and she now led a Coven of two hundred and eleven vampires, sworn to protect her: to follow her anywhere. Over eighty of them were female, and all were mounted behind Hayley's official guard, wearing gleaming armour and armed with shields and blades. Wil still didn't trust them. They had sworn the oath to serve and protect, but what did an oath really mean to a bloodsucker?

The other problem with bringing them along was they would need to wait till nightfall to return to Korhad. The journey before sunrise allowed them to reach the cover of the clouds that flowed from the East Lands; however, those clouds did not yet reach the lands bordering the city. Even if these men and women were loyal to Hayley, their susceptibility to sunlight would create further dilemmas. Even if Carl could alter them all to make them able to walk in sunlight, Wil would not allow such a move, as it would increase the chances of Koncha learning the technique.

***

Rodriel Tarz sat in the Council Chamber at Orodhel, in a meeting with Tobin's son, Prince Turin. The potential new leader of the Nordics was the image of his father, dark of eyes with a hawk's beak of a nose, with a long tail of dark hair falling down his golden armoured back. He wore no crown, yet, but Turin was more than keen to take his father's place as the King of Nordhel. His wife was also present, a slender woman, short for an immortal, of the Nordic bloodline with pale blue eyes and a thick golden braid. She wore blue silk under a white woollen cloak, very much the image of her mother-in-law, Lydia Ever-Light.

A host of council members were also in the chamber, including High Captain General of the Stone Guard, Lord Marishjin Olockendel. Marishjin was an experienced leader, with dark eyes and short black hair tinged with white above his pointed ears. His tanned skin implied Torvellen blood, though his ancestors had been Nordic as far back as the War of the Shadow. The general did most of the talking in this meeting, though he deferred to Prince Turin whenever the man decided to talk over him. Marishjin wore golden armour with a crimson lion emblazoned across the chest, as Turin was also of the Lion Rohjor like his father.

'What of the decree?' Tarz asked Turin. 'What guarantee will you give me that you will renounce the ban on male wielding once you become King of Nordhel?' Turin raised his brows, flourishing his red cloak as he replied, saying, 'You already have my assurances that the decree will be revoked, Tarz. That day will come to pass. For now, the Borderlands are swarming with Shadowspawn. What aid will your Alit'aren give me and my generals to deal with this problem?'

'You know I live to serve, Prince Turin.' Tarz replied with a casual wave, as if he were dismissing the question while submitting to him at the same time. He needed to practice the arts of royal discussions, implying servitude while remaining aloof about expected loyalty. 'My concern is for the battles we will soon face against Jinn-Fendinn. Everything we see, and sense suggests He will rise from Kerak'Otozi, and soon! It is imperative that my Alit'aren be given permission to use whatever means necessary to stand against His might.'

'That will be difficult,' Marishjin interrupted with a bristling of his grey tinged moustache. 'The Daughter of Thor is the real problem there. Even if Prince Turin is raised as the new King, Jean Fairsythe may use her influence to cast him down for disobedience, the same way she did with Tobin and Orion.'

Tarz noted the cautious look to Turin's eyes regarding those statements. The man was surely willing to buckle under the demands of the White Snow Fox if his ruling was challenged. That worried Tarz; he needed a ruler who was willing to go to extremes to enforce his ruling and his commands. Tarz stroked his black woollen coat as if to straighten invisible wrinkles, a distracting tactic as he replied with, 'The Snow Fox will do whatever she can to dominate this world, whether she believes it for the benefit of Kismeria or simply to bully rulers to submit to her demands. You give me your guarantee, but I see that you are nervous about a harsh judgement from that woman.'

'We must tread carefully on this issue,' Marishjin suggested, which earned him a look of reassurance from Turin. 'For now, you must trust in our intentions to restore you to your full status, after we deal with the problems at hand.'

'My men are ready to ride,' Tarz replied with confidence. 'Do we have your permission to wield Angel-Magic against our enemies?'

'I suggest we withhold such strategies until we are outmatched,' Turin said. 'Until that call is made, you will provide Shield-Spells of teron and use your blades to back up our Aldebrands and soldiers.' That reply vexed Tarz to no end. He also knew they would say it as they considered the danger of upsetting the Daughter of Thor. He decided he needed to speak with Adem Highlander. Only the Blue Water Dragon had the authority to challenge Jean Fairsythe.

He stood and gave a short bow to Prince Turin, then followed the other leaders from the chamber as they moved through the hallways in preparation for battle. His thoughts continued to wander as he marched with his chest out; shoulders raised, and arms folded behind his dark coat.

Containing the problems associated with Jinn-Magic was another concern. So far, over fifty of his Aldebrands had become quite ill from the corruption on teron, forcing him to break their capacity to wield, along with eleven immortal Alit'aren. Most of the Aldebrands were mortal, as Jinn-Magic seemed to infect their minds sooner, but the Alit'aren had used vast amounts of Angel-Magic at the Battle of Hordrin's Corridor, and they had become a danger to the safety of others due to their paranoia and potential for harming innocents. He couldn't argue that rabid wolves were needed to serve a greater good, but that was the dilemma he was facing.

He needed to find a way to slow these effects, or none of them would survive to see the Ragnarök Battle. What also concerned him was a rising theory of evil spirits possessing these madmen while they still had the ability to wield. It seemed once their ability to wield was taken away, their evil natures subsided; suggesting these spirits no longer had any use for them and decided to seek out another host. The real concern was that if this theory was accurate, it could devastate the Armies of the All-Father in future confrontations. With spies amongst them serving the Jinn-Lord, their every move could be reported to their enemies if the possessed men were not discovered in time.

Legends suggested there were hundreds of these spirits, ancient and terrible, some more powerful than others. Madness had been so scarce throughout history; that the existence of these evil spirits had been difficult to prove, but Tarz had studied these madmen, and he had seen a presence behind their eyes that disturbed him greatly. More than that, some of the Aldebrands had spoken of Dark Prophecy, that if true, was further evidence that these men were possessed by beings that held knowledge known only to Shadowsouled. Tarz understood only fragments of what they were spluttering, with wild eyes and high-pitched voices, but these pieces of the puzzle suggested these were genuine Prophecies of the Jinn-Lord.

He had alerted his most trusted advisors of this danger, and all were on the alert, however, any one of them could be the next victim if Jinn-Magic infected them enough to make them sufficient hosts. Who could he place his trust in, when enemies were appearing in the minds of his closest companions?

***

Adem sat his mount, the dark stallion stamped impatiently as he held the reins tighter in his grip. He wore black armour with a blue dragon across the chest, Alit'aren black trousers, coat and boots. Most of the army wore their cloaks, including the shadow material Aldebrand cloaks on those not wearing the ghoda'sidhe masks and gauntlets with tightly wrapped black material on the arms, chest and legs. Most of his personal guard wore the warrior garb, in masks and gauntlets of pale blue lacquer over steel. They were his Dragon Guard, over three hundred of them, both Aldebrands and Alit'aren.

They had moved at a swift pace further north for over an hour; then moved at a trot to allow the horses to gain sufficient rest before battle. Now, Adem watched riders moving through the warp of Air-Magic, that shimmered with pale light, in the shape of a large rectangle, large enough for thirty riders to pass through abreast. He required a link with six other Alit'aren to create a portal that size, and he dared not risk forming a chain with more wielders. It could increase his illness dramatically.

Serock had taught him the spell as a variation of the one used by the former High-Servant. Jean, Carl and Wil also knew how to create the portals, though none had tried yet. It was kept a secret from anyone else for the time being. If Alit'aren began turning mad or became possessed by evil spirits—as evidence suggested was happening—they could not risk them knowing such Portal-Magic to travel the world in a leap, creating havoc with Angel-Magic. Serock had also shown them how to disguise their Angel-Magic so that other wielders could not easily learn the technique. This method was how the High-Servants were able to keep this form of Angel-Magic a secret for over four thousand years.

They were sending through small parties of riders, at different positions, behind the enemy lines, further north, in an attempt to close in around them. The portals were also used to send the scouts, with one rider remaining, with a spear planted in the earth, to mark where Adem would reform the portal, for their return. So far, the plan was working. This new spell was vital to their hopes of victory over Fendinn in future battles. Adem couldn't see any way that Fendinn was still using Serock for some secret plot, yet his knowledge of the Jinn-Lord suggested he was devious in such ways. Whatever the case, they had learnt a skill that made them ten times more efficient, in fact, the possibilities were endless.

'I hope we're not marching right into another trap,' Carl said from his saddle to Adem's right. 'The Borderlands make me nervous. There are too many places where the enemy could spill forth to create an ambush.'

'We have better chances here than in the Free Lands,' Elarja replied, riding beside Adem to the left, with Tobin and Lydia to the left of Elarja, and Orion and Elmira flanking Carl. 'At least here we have the mountains to hold them back at most points, though the scouts watching the gaps like Hordrin's Corridor are necessary to avoid being caught by surprise.'

'Things will go better this time,' Adem said. 'At least I hope so. We lack the Heart of Odin this time, and I fear Odin will not show himself again until we acquire a similar artefact of his Odin-Magic. We must move with caution.'

'What news of the rebels to the north?' Carl asked.

'Scouts report no movement from them yet,' Adem replied. 'For now, we are on our own.'

'The demon swarms are gathered in the region east of Orodhel,' Elarja said. 'Surely Prince Turin will send an army to deal with them also.'

'That could result in a confrontation with the rebel Alit'aren and our own forces,' Carl said. 'Do you have a plan to deal with such an eventuality, Adem?'

'Tarz is loyal to me now. He will not cause trouble while I lead.'

'I'm not so certain,' Carl replied.

'Leave the rebels to me. I will make use of them when the time is right.' Carl was right to show concern, however. If the rebels decided to attack them, Adem wasn't certain even the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor combined could outmatch them. 'On another topic, what do we know about the vampire situation surrounding Nordhel?'

'It looks bad,' Carl said. 'There are reports of entire villages infected; those that refused to seek protection behind the walls of Nordhel. Even in the city they have begun raids on homes where people are not seen for days, suggesting they cannot walk in sunlight. Over fifty homes have been searched, and thirty of those housed Nightwalkers newly turned. It seems without Tairark to call them to him; these newly bred vampires simply hide in darkness and seek out victims to stay alive when the thirst strikes.'

'Are you suggesting they are not evil?' Orion asked that question, addressing Carl. 'What of their need for human blood?'

'Look at Hayley's followers!' Carl said. 'They now serve her willingly, and they will survive on goat's blood. I believe that makes them seem quite harmless.'

'All of them would've fed on human victims before they attacked us last night,' Adem said in a harsh tone. 'They are yet to prove themselves worthy of joining our forces. We will see what good they can do on the battlefield.'

'Everyone deserves a second chance,' Carl said; blue eyes shining like orbs of ice. 'Like your new best friend Serock.'

'He's not my friend,' Adem said in irritation. 'He's a tool to be used, not trusted. Just like Hayley's new entourage of neck biters.'

***

Serock stepped through a warp of Air-Magic, that shimmered with shadows and light. He moved in one step from his sleeping quarters in Korhad, to one of the higher stone slabs piled in pyramid formation, that was his old home, the vampire lair known as Morgrahl Kordahn. The Southlands were darker than he remembered; suggesting the cloud cover was growing thicker as it spread from the eruptions of Kerak'Otozi.

He was met at one of the dark doorways to the chambers by a werewolf in human form, a dark eyed man with a long black braid of hair, wearing golden armour and dark trousers with a bow in one hand and a quiver over his shoulder. He recognized the man, formerly a Southland mortal named Kaiglen. It took a moment for the man to recognize Serock as the former Vampire-King; then he gave a short bow and welcomed him inside the stone ruins. 'Lord Koncha believed you to be dead, Lord Tairark,' Kaiglen remarked as they moved through the dark passageways; surrounded by coffins where vampires slept during the daylight hours.

'I go by the name Serock these days.'

'Have you returned to take over command?' Kaiglen asked with a nervous croak to his voice. Serock did not reply, and they moved deeper through the vaults and chambers, down winding staircases of grey stone with red lights glowing in the walls, an enchantment he had created that was harmless to vampires. He was surprised the lights still glowed after he had been murdered and then reincarnated, though Angel-Magic was everlasting, changing from one form to another, but never being fully exhausted.

'What plans does your new master have, besides capturing the wife of Wil Martyr?' He decided he should probe the werewolf for information before meeting with Koncha, and Kaiglen asked in an even more startled tone, 'Are you siding with Hayley Martyr?'

'Answer my question,' Serock replied. Kaiglen was silent as they walked for a time, then he said, 'Koncha only discusses his plotting with his generals. All I know is that he intends to invade the Free Lands as soon as possible.'

'And he requires Hayley Martyr to achieve this aim.'

'Perhaps not,' Kaiglen replied, with more confidence. 'All signs suggest Jinn-Fendinn will rise from his Resting Point in the next year or two. When his clouds cover the Free Lands, we will advance.'

'And when the crops fail in the Free Lands, and there is no longer food for the farm animals and wild game, the people will perish, and without blood to sustain you, you will all starve. Your cause is futile.'

Kaiglen was silent again as they moved through a series of arched doorways over a slab of marble that shone with a pale green light. Then he said, 'The Armies of the Shadow will wipe out all life in the Free Lands sooner or later. The end is inevitable; then we will sleep for eternity.'

'Do you really believe you will get much sleep in the pits of Hellfire?'

Again, silence stretched in the darkness until Kaiglen asked, 'What alternative is there?'

'Hayley Martyr offers a new alternative,' Serock said, trying a new tactic. 'She will grant peace between the Covens and the Free Lands, for those who swear to follow her and fight at her side. Animal blood will be provided under any roof, as a new pact enforced by the Sons of Odin. Even the great cities will provide you shelter and sustenance, as long as you serve the Armies of Odin.'

'Has any of our kind sworn the oath?'

'Every survivor of the attack last night has become a personal guard for Hayley Martyr. Over two hundred vampires are now under the protection of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.' Kaiglen stopped, and turned to face Serock, his eyes had a faraway look that also seemed to be filled with new hope. 'I would be killed if Koncha learnt that I told others of this opportunity.'

'Then speak only with those you trust,' Serock replied, resisting a grin after planting a seed of rebellion.

Chapter 6

A Demonic Heart

Crossbow bolts and arrows filled the sky with darkness, as a volley launched towards the advancing horde of Boli-Kuldr, black plated armour on chests and shoulders of thick muscled beasts; skulls like rams or bulls and large hooves for feet. The Boli-Kuldr were charging now, all of them at least eight feet tall, some ten feet tall, wielding pikes, hammers or dark axes. They moved in a stampede, dredging up clouds of dust and ash that swirled in the air under the dark clouded skies. The thunder of those hooves made the earth tremble, but Adem's forces stood their ground, Alit'aren creating Shield-Walls in linked chains, to support their strength to levels that could even withstand an attack of this magnitude.

The arrows hacked down the front lines of the enemy, bull and ram skulled beasts falling to be trampled by the advancing lines, a second volley of arrows, and a third and fourth while the crossbowmen attempted to reload. This was not an ideal position for facing a Boli-Kuldr horde, on flat ground with no raised position to avoid such charges. For now, the Shield-Spells would hold. Ael Tarael began to perform their Angel-Magics; the earth erupted with waves of golden-orange flames, spouting twelve feet into the air, twenty paces wide and moving through the demon ranks up to ten bodies deep. The Boli-Kuldr roared as they were torn apart by the Fire-Magic, as Flame Leopards leapt from the fires to bite and claw at the demons, setting flesh alight as they charged through their ranks.

The Boli-Kuldr were closing the gap now, the front lines charging to attempt to shatter the Alit'aren Shield-Spells, as horns and blades struck the liquid-blue fire, the Shield-Walls held, and dust blew up in clouds as demon hooves skidded in the dirt. The rear lines of the assault began to pile up as the front lines were halted, clanging of armour and grunts and snarls of impatient monsters.

Adem rode his dark stallion, behind the heavy cavalry, and his Dragon Guard surrounded his horse, Carl to his left with Orion and Elmira, and Arig, Elarja, Tobin and Lydia to his right. Adem used his thought into matter manipulation—twelve feet tall Golden Soldiers rose up from the earth behind the enemy lines. Adem enhanced his voice with Angel-Magic as he shouted to his Alit'aren, 'Shields!'

Fourteen Golden Soldiers raised laser cannon arms that released beams of neon crimson light as thick as his forearm, slicing through demon flesh as thousands of dark armoured bodies collapsed in bursts of blood and flame, the lasers striking as far as the Alit'aren Shield-Walls that were double reinforced on Adem's command. Boli-Kuldr bodies were ripped apart, torsos cut in half, shoulders, limbs and skulls flying in sprays of dark blood as the lasers severed and sealed flesh and bone. They had used this technique four times already, in total wiping out close to three thousand demons by his estimate. The hordes were lured in this direction by smaller forces he transported via his new portal technique; then he put larger forces behind those enemy lines to push them into attack mode, as they were being crushed between two armies and would need to charge through to escape.

But they could not escape, and Kelderath's battle strategies were working like a charm. The Captain General sat his mount further to Adem's right, shouting commands and roaring like an old lion, with Maldros and Morthros by his side, those other two looking uncomfortable yet proud in his presence.

Golden Soldiers of that size and number were draining Adem's ki'mera reserves, which reduced the potential effectiveness of his Battle Angels if they were needed in this fight. But Kelderath's plan was to pen these animals in and lead them to the slaughterhouse.

***

Tarz watched the battle unfold, as he sat his dark stallion, behind ranks of Alit'aren and Seidr'tera. They held the Shield-Walls that formed the front wedge of their defences, archers and crossbowmen firing volleys over those Shield-Spells to hammer the Boli-Kuldr and Rahkwel ranks into the dirt. The snow-covered fields were black with demon blood, as the beasts and goblins charged and battered themselves against the Wall-Magic, only to be slaughtered by heavy cavalry attacking their flanks; slicing them up with lances and spears, black armoured bodies becoming trampled under the hooves of thousands of altherin horses.

The technique was working for now, but Tarz was wary of a possible trap by the enemy. They seemed too disorganized, with only a few Souljhin seen herding the hordes out of three encounters, each time facing only a few hundred Boli-Kuldr and a scattering of Rahkwel and Nymloc.

Scouts reported larger hordes further south, as well as sightings of soldiers of Korhad marching out of holes in the air. That news was the most intriguing to Tarz. If Adem Highlander had learnt a new method of warping space to travel from one place to another in a single step, Tarz would need to gain this knowledge for himself and his men. Such a tactic was vital in the hope of being able to stand against Fendinn and his armies.

He loathed watching a battle where he and his men were restricted in their wielding. He felt an itch to cast a lightning bolt or to make the earth heave with golden flames. Yet he followed the orders he was given, serving only as a commander, not even lending his might to reinforce the Shield-Spells when the Boli-Kuldr began to charge, the force of impact of such an attack being greater than a stampede of bulls, but linked in large chains the Alit'aren and Seidr'tera were able to hold off the enemy. Aldebrands and soldiers hacked through those Shield-Walls with the speed of immortal warriors; the front lines of the enemy falling with fatal wounds through their dark plated armour.

The dip in the landscape always kept the enemy unaware of the larger force of riders waiting to charge down the hillside from the west flank, obliterating the demons as they attempted to flee, but their ranks were always too tight, and they roared with beastly cries of fear as they were cut to pieces. Ravens began to circle the skies, scavengers overseeing the bloodshed, but perhaps also scouting for their masters. In the old days those birds would've been knocked out of the sky with Fire-Magic. With the new restrictions, they would not even waste their arrows on them. This was less of a battle, and more a mission of sweeping the roads clear. Ravens swooped to peck at the demon corpses as his riders began to move southwards.

***

Adem watched the Boli-Kuldr ranks scatter under the force of his attacks. There were many hordes gathered in the mountain caves and crevices, most likely part of some plan to ambush Adem's armies, yet Jinn-Magic made Alit'aren as keen to the sense of a demon presence as it had always been for Aldebrands via the gift. Even Adem knew where they were hiding, and he gestured, using his thought to create explosions like pathways of dynamite buried in the mountains. Golden-orange light blossomed like small stars as great booming roars shook the mountain paths, stone collapsing as whole sides of the mountains were blasted away to cover the surprised demon ranks.

Carl and Wil created their own attacks of similar style, both of them wielding Angel-Magic, while Adem only used his thought into manipulation of matter to create his explosions. Red and golden flames burst from the dark stone as demon body parts flew into the air in bursts of fire and blood. Jean sat her mount further behind ranks of her personal guard, Terese at her side and Hayley further back with her Vampire Guard on her flanks.

So far there had been no need to summon any of their Battle Angels, though scouts reported the largest hordes were gathered further north, about an hour's ride if the horses were pushed hard at a gallop only possible for altherin breeds. Behind those Boli-Kuldr lines, his smaller parties of riders pushed the demons further southward, towards a bowl in the landscape where Kelderath was intending them to go. If they could reach the bowl in time to trap the enemy, the Battle Angels would be used to perform a massacre.

Of course, there was no need to push the horses to such limits when Adem could move his forces there in the half hour it would take to move the riders through one of those Magic-Portals. That gave him more time to focus his aggression against his enemies here. Blasts of golden magma erupted like a cluster of grenades, demons torn to shreds in blood and fire!

***

Lady Gwyndel gave the order as a hail of arrows fell upon the demon ranks. They were herding the enemy towards a mountain range divided by a large bowl in the landscape. Their aim was to push the demons into the bowl in time for the Sons of Odin to spring their trap. Lord Farrigan sat his mount alongside her pale mare—wearing the torin'sidhe camouflage under a cloak of shadows—the tan skinned Dremelden's dark hair blowing in the wind, as he swiftly drew and released a number of arrows from his bow, each shaft meeting a target in the neck or skull, as demons fell in waves. Gwyndel wore an emerald coat that hung below the waist, dark leather trousers and brown knee-high boots. She wielded the Lukrorian Bow that had once served as the Resting Point for the Battle Angel, Druantia, though now the enchanted weapon only served for unleashing arrows of flame. There were only fifty female Archers in her clan on this side mission, the rest of the force made up of male Dremelden Archers, Wood Kin and Aldebrands wielding wooden bows and steel tipped arrows, with two hundred heavy-cavalry for sweeping the fields if they were routed by the enemy. The women Archers all wielded Lukrorian Bows, though they were conserving their strength for defending against possible sudden retaliation.

Thousands of Boli-Kuldr fled through the flat barren fields ahead of their attacks, hollering like wild animals as dark arrow shafts pursued their attempted escape. Thousands more had already been pushed between the mountain pass towards the bowl in the landscape. The demons hoped to cross through the bowl to reach a pass in the Borderland mountain ranges to return to the East Lands. For now, Adem Highlander's plan was a success. The Boli-Kuldr crossed the landscape on pounding hooves and goat or bull shaped legs; fading into the horizon as Gwyndel and Farrigan moved their riders after them at a careful pace. If the demons decided to turn about and make a charge for their small forces, they could be wiped out as they were lacking sufficient numbers of Ael Tarael and Alit'aren to form Shield-Walls.

Twenty Alit'aren formed lines behind the cavalry, though there were only a handful of Ael Tarael to unleash Fire Leopards if things got out of control. Fortunately, the enemy continued to flee; clearly, they did not see the trap that was set for them. Gwyndel said a silent prayer for her good fortune this day.

***

Tarz ordered the riders to a halt, as they neared the edge of the large bowl in the landscape. Within the bowl were over ten thousand demons, mostly Boli-Kuldr, at least seven thousand or more, with dark skinned Nymloc and Jacoulra seen amongst the smaller packs of Rahkwel; seven feet tall goblin men armed to the teeth. The rising hills on either side of the bowl made it impossible to cross this stretch of land without entering the dip in the landscape known as Eolryon's Chalice.

As Tarz's forces neared the lip of the bowl, the demons saw their mistake. On the southern side of the bowl, riders fanned out a thousand horses abreast, and from his saddle, Tarz could see the lines of riders were more than ten ranks deep. They were Adem Highlander's Korhadian warriors, who must've appeared out of one of those miraculous holes in the air before the riders approached the Chalice.

The result was a swarm of demons herded like cattle in a trench for the slaughter. Guttural cries and screams of rage or panic erupted from the demon ranks, as those who were moving towards the southern end of the bowl halted in their tracks. Boli-Kuldr formed lines with giant black spears and pikes forming a great dark serpent with a spine of many spikes. A similar defence was created on the northern side of the bowl, with some Rahkwel joining with the larger Boli-Kuldr demons to form a wedge, to defend against a charge by Tarz and his men.

In such a situation, Tarz ached to wield Angel-Magic to full effect, but without the permission of the Prince or Adem Highlander, he would face the wrath of Jean Fairsythe. He shivered at the thought of being cut from teron. He raised his fist to the sky; as he enhanced his voice with Air-Magic; 'Archers, take position!' A thousand Elf-Archers spread in a line along the lip of the Chalice. 'Pike men prepare to defend!'

Tarz could see his role from here on in. His Alit'aren would form lines behind the front defences, creating shields if any demons made it to the top of the bowl, otherwise his archers would pick off demons that attempted to escape, with pike men to take over if a considerable horde managed to reach the line of Shield-Walls. He watched as the sky above suddenly became a vortex of swirling dark clouds, a roar of thunder tore the air, as lightning began to rain in forked bolts of crimson, aqua, golden and emerald—the familiar sign of Battle Angels forming a Link. The lightning fell a hundred bolts every half second, striking a different point within the bowl each time they launched from the clouds like Spears of Odin. The earth erupted in stone and flames, blood and bones flying as armour and flesh exploded. Demons ran from the blasts in balls of flame, screaming as flesh melted from their bones. Those were the Boli-Kuldr and Rahkwel, while Nymloc and Jacoulra were reduced to ashes in seconds by the Elemental Magic.

Shadow Hounds appeared, at least fifty of the pony-sized dark-skinned beasts that charged down the southern edge of the Chalice, roaring with bloodlust as golden magma danced across their forms. As the Hounds began to tear through the demon ranks, fifty Fire Lions appeared amongst them, tearing and biting through armour and flesh, as fire and lightning exploded outwards from their forms.

Demons began to scatter on the northern edge of the bowl, charging to flee the carnage that surged towards them, breaking rank and howling with fear in the voices of wild beasts. 'Archers, fire!' Rain of dark arrow shafts and crossbow bolts flew on a direct downward angle to punch through the dark Boli-Kuldr and Rahkwel armour like hot knives through butter. Close to three hundred demons fell from the first attack and were trampled by the lines behind them that pushed for an escape. A second and third wave of arrows fell to strike through breastplates, necks and eye sockets, with the crossbows added for the fourth wave, over six hundred Boli-Kuldr and fifty Rahkwel fell with three or four arrow shafts in each.

Tarz shouted, 'Ready pikes!' The lines of archers retreated behind the pike men, with Agnars, Aldebrands and some Alit'aren amongst those lines, with the wielders in small linked chains to create Shield-Spells strong enough to hold back the advancing demons. The archers moved back behind the front lines; then continued to fire volleys over the Shield-Walls, to slow the beasts that tried to escape the slaughterhouse.

It was times like this that Tarz felt it was good to be alive!

***

Adem watched the peak of the vortex in the sky, waiting as he sat his mount, surrounded by his Dragon Guard, looking over the edge of Eolryon's Chalice. A tornado appeared in the centre of the lightning storm, and from that swirling grey finger of clouds, the shining armour, and wings of fire, of four Battle Angels began to glow.

Tanriel hovered at the peak of the storm—blue wings of fire behind her crimson armour with waves of golden hair blowing in the storm winds—raising her right fist as a crimson spear of flames appeared in her grasp. She hurled the spear, and in that instant, below her and further out in a circle around the vortex appeared Arawn in his plated black armour, wings of shadow flame and mask of rune covered steel, in the likeness of a human skull, as well as Dis Pater on golden wings—dark breastplate and long dark hair around his square human face with sad dark eyes—and a larger crimson spear appeared in both of the male Battle Angels' grasps, as well as Math Mathonwy with wings of red flame, golden armour and a flowing yellow beard, the third male Battle Angel also hurling a spear of fire.

As they unleashed their attacks, the spears became dozens of crimson shafts flying from the fists of each Battle Angel, over a hundred massive spears striking the earth within the demon ranks. Orange flames burst outwards from the weapons in blazing sheets—each spear sending fire in an X axis and all at different angles so that the bowl in the landscape was a scorching furnace—that tore through demon armour and flesh, ripping limbs and skulls apart in bursts of blood and fire, vaporizing Nymloc and Jacoulra to create vast piles of burning ashes!

Adem saw it all too clearly with teron in his veins, something he still required Angel-Magic to achieve. The attack was devastating to the demon forces, wiping out the bulk of the ten thousand or so enemies with that single Linked attack of immense power and ferocity. Shadow Hounds and Fire Lions numbered in the hundreds now, pulling apart the surviving demons, biting off limbs and skulls and setting flesh alight with the lightning and fire that burst from their forms. Ki'mera orbs soared into the sky from the carnage below, a swirling rainbow sea of light that was absorbed by the Battle Angels to fuel their strength and stamina. Waves of the demon soul energies also flowed to Adem, Carl, Wil and Jean, as each had a Battle Angel involved in this onslaught.

Arawn, Dis Pater and Math Mathonwy swooped down out of the vortex, moving outwards in three directions to hack and slash through the demon army with their enchanted weapons blazing. Arawn carved a path through the remaining bulk of Boli-Kuldr bodies with his seven feet long crimson sword, cutting torsos in half; decapitating bull and ram skulled beasts. The shadow cloaked Battle Angel was a raging storm of carnage! Sheets of crimson flame burst from every swipe of his blade in a sweeping arc to hack down Boli-Kuldr and Rahkwel ten ranks deep! Adem sensed the evil seeping into his first Battle Angel via Jinn-Magic within teron. It was taking over Arawn's soul. Adem wondered when it would finally drag them all down into fits of madness and chaos.

Math and Dis Pater were also wreaking havoc on the battlefield, golden fire erupting from the great golden axe, and Math's massive crimson spear released sheets of golden-orange flames that tore through flesh and bone, blood spraying and demons turning into dust! It was a total annihilation of the enemy forces, demons frantically screaming in terror in the wake of bloodlust and incredible power. Today was a great victory. He knew it was because Jean had forgiven him. He was focused. He could breathe again.

When the battle was ended, and the ravens covered the demon corpses by the thousands, Adem and the two armies watched a single bull skulled Boli-Kuldr scrambling up the sloping landscape in an attempt to escape the pit of death. There was silence all around as the men and women watched almost in pity of the horrid creature as it made desperate grunts and wails of despair or panic. It knew its fate, yet still it hoped to live. All alone and facing death, the creature displayed a gentleness and a fragile state of mind he had never expected possible to perceive. Adem felt true pain in his heart towards this beast, the first time he could admit actually feeling sympathy for a true servant of Jinn-Fendinn. Adem could not find it within himself to put the creature out of its misery and felt a pang of regret as he gave the signal; archers fired a volley to feather the back of the demon with arrow shafts. As it gave its last cries of pain and slid back down the Chalice towards its slaughtered brothers, Adem realised that even these bloodthirsty monsters were victims in the Jinn-Lord's incessant schemes. They were all victims, all pawns in a duel between the All-Father and his Eternal Enemy. But leaving the creature to live would result in greater consequences, as it would survive to do more harm, perhaps raiding villages and feeding its insatiable hunger for murder. It was the creature's fear and vulnerability that stirred such emotions in Adem.

We're all victims in this game!

He turned Tarkson about and began to ride towards a warp in the air wide enough for twenty riders abreast. Those Portal-Spells were going to increase his illness over time, unless he could figure out a way to create them without harnessing teron first. He had seen Tarz on the northern side of the Chalice before he turned to leave, the dark eyed man had raised a fist in salute, but today was not the day to deal with the rebels. Though he knew he would have to face that day soon.

Chapter 7

Shienden

Adem sat in his newly appointed bedchamber, as the other was still being cleaned of vampire blood and bone-ash. He decided he would never return to that room even if it was sufficiently cleansed. The fire was roaring, yet the air was still cold in these winter months. He was seated in a large blue cushioned armchair with Shienden sitting at his feet.

He hoped Jean would visit him, though he doubted she would. It had been a week since they swept the Borderlands clean, and she had not visited him at all on any of those nights. Isabelle always arrived after he returned to his room after supper. They talked, and she made attempts to lure him to the bed, but he refused every time. He just couldn't betray Jean again. He felt sure he never would. Isabelle was not taking that well. She seemed aware of his newfound devotion to Jean, and she would do her best to win him over.

Tonight, he sat speaking with minds to Shienden. The little dragon was a wealth of knowledge about the ancient days, about the crafting of the world and the demon wars before the Age of the First Immortals. Dragons were linked with the Battle Angels in those ancient times, fuelling the Angels with the Magic of Dragonfire, something Adem was still trying to understand fully. Now they were on the subject of the Hex-Warlords and their Dark Generals, who called themselves the Hex-Keepers.

What drives them? Adem asked.

I do not know the ways of men. I am a dragon! Shienden made little snorting sounds of pride at his own statement. I was made to command Dragonfire. I am the greatest of my kind!

That is comforting to know. Adem replied. But how do I defeat them?

Use the dragon code. Hunt them, lure them, stalk them, and then attack!

The dragon's words struck a chord in Adem's mind, an idea was forming. You know Shienden, that's a very clever idea!

He stood and walked to fetch his sword, then stood by his bow, and the silver horn, that housed the spirits of Llew Llaw Gyffes and Balor. With a summons, the two Battle Angels appeared in a flare of colour and light, and then on his command, both entered his blade, to join with Arawn as their Resting Point. He needed to disguise himself, and if he was seen with the horn and a blue Lukrorian Bow, anyone would know he was Adem Highlander. Lukrorian Bows were outlawed; only four men still carried them, himself, Arig, Carl and Wil. He called his Aldebrands at the door to enter and had one of them fetch him a plain brown leather scabbard that would fit his blade. The ebony scabbard with the dragon symbol would also make him stick out like a fox in the hen house.

While he waited for the scabbard, he changed into a dark green coat with gold buttons, a nicely cut wool but not something a lord would wear. He changed his trousers to brown leather and put on a dark brown pair of leather boots. He wrapped a black sword belt around the long, high collared coat, with a golden oval buckle embossed with a charging ram. He checked himself in the mirror, and with the door locked, he used a series of Angel-Spells to change his features slightly, from blue eyes to dark brown, and brown hair to black. He also added a slight tan to his skin, so that he would appear Torvellen as he also added points to his ears like an immortal. He added the youthfulness to his complexion that was also typical of reasonably young elves.

When his Aldebrands knocked at the door, he removed the spell and unlocked the door to accept the scabbard. It was plain brown leather wrapped as he had instructed, and the blade fit as if it were made for it. The steel casing of the scabbard would wear over time. His enchanted blade could cut down a tree ten paces wide and never lose its sharp edges.

'Not in your Alit'aren uniform this evening, Lord Adem?' The green-eyed Dremelden asked. He had sandy spiked hair and pale skin, standing a head taller than Adem in his emerald breastplate with two golden sword hilts rising above each shoulder.

'I don't want to be disturbed for the rest of the evening, Beylen,' Adem said. 'I am weary and need a good sleep before we plan to meet the rebels. Inform the White Snow Fox that this is our first priority.'

Beylen looked puzzled, but pressed fist to heart and Adem closed the door in his face. He then packed a travel bag that he slung over his shoulder, with some bread and cheese, from the large polished wood dinner table, packed in with two apples and a pear. He had to travel light, and he would not risk Tarkson where he was going, so times when he was unable to use Portal-Spells, he would have to walk. He also attached a coin purse—filled with gold coins with Prince Lune's mark on the face—to his other waist belt and then put on the shadow cloak most commonly worn by Aldebrands.

He harnessed teron, and waves of Angel-Magic and the filth of Jinn-Magic filled his every fibre, his senses elated and repulsed at the same time. A warp of Air-Magic appeared before him, wide enough for him to step through. The little dragon leapt through first, before Adem could try to tell him to stay behind. He'd decided this was something he would need to do alone. But Shienden was good company. So, as the disguise returned to his form, he stepped through the Portal with a grin on his face.

***

Jean knew the moment Adem left. She'd been on her way to see him to pay him another rehabilitative visit, when she felt him travel a great distance, in the space of a moment. She immediately consulted her Battle Angels about it, but neither Tanriel nor Anwen could tell her anything, both of them replying that Adem's Battle Angels would not say where he went, or what he was up to. Only that he was not in any immediate danger.

She sat in her bedchamber now, with Terese at the door, and Isabelle seated on a couch, next to Jean's red cushioned armchair. Jean still wore the pale white gown, embroidered with white foxes, she'd intended to seduce Adem with. She sensed Isabelle's frustration and jealousy over their reunited affairs. Well, she perceived those emotions in Isabelle's speech and expressions towards her.

Carl stood with arms clasped behind his back, wearing his Alit'aren uniform with the Red Lion Rohjor sigil on his high collar. He also wore his Aldebrand shadow cloak, as the air had a biting chill, despite Jean's attempts to warm the room with a blazing fire. She could use Angel-Magic to increase the temperature to something more tolerable, but since the vampire curse had infected terael, she was reluctant to wield unless it was vital to her survival. She'd started to get headaches these past few days, and she wondered if it was a sign of mental illness setting in. When those headaches began, she became restless, agitated and her mood was overall not the calm focused measure of dignity she usually commanded.

'I have no idea where he's going,' Carl said with a raised brow after Jean had basically snapped at him, demanding answers. She'd summoned him to her chambers to try to work out what Adem had planned.

'He's abandoned me!' Isabelle wailed, sniffing as if at the beginning of tears. 'He's abandoned our child!'

'It's not safe for him to travel alone,' Jean said to Carl, ignoring Isabelle's tantrum. 'We must search for him.'

'He must think whatever he's doing is right,' Carl replied, 'right for him, or for us, or for the people.'

'We need him!' Jean shouted. 'Without him our hopes of confronting Jinn-Fendinn are futile.'

'I know that better than you do,' Carl replied, his mouth a flat line as he spoke, something the Sons of Odin had always been able to do, speak without moving their lips. Adem said his lips only moved a little when he was thinking about the ability. When she first met Adem and saw him speak she knew there was something special about him. Adem claimed it had something to with what they learnt in their experience that night at Bright. It was curious.

'What do you mean?'

'Apparently, Adem is the only one who can harm Fendinn,' Carl replied, 'him and his pet dragon, if Shienden ever grows large enough.'

'Why wasn't I informed?' Jean spoke with rage building in her tone.

'I am telling you now.' Again, his lips barely parted as his voice emanated from his chest and throat. He wore an odd expression, his focus distant. She wondered if Carl had used too much Angel-Magic in that last battle? Her concern regarding mental health was always focused on Adem. What if the other two began to grow ill to a similar extent? As she pondered on this, she saw his focus return to her, and she immediately guessed Tanriel or Anwen had informed his Battle Angels of her concern.

'I feel fine,' Carl said. 'But very well, I will search for him. However first I will join your escort to Orodhel. You must begin negotiations with the rebels. We need their might to contest the Shadow, even if we only allow them to create Shield-Spells to defend our battle ranks. You are in charge of those negotiations, Jean. I expect results.'

'I will not bargain with that rabid wolf Tarz!' Jean snapped in outrage.

'You will find a way to end this division and make peace with him.' Carl said in a commanding tone. 'I would be there if I could, but you're right about Adem. We can't afford to let him go for days without Healing-Magic. His illness could spread to irreparable proportions.'

'What of Serock?' Jean asked.

'He still hasn't returned,' Carl said with a face like stone. 'That is a concern, but we can do nothing but wait to see if he is truly trustworthy.'

'It's been seven days since he left,' Jean said. 'I think if he was going to return, he would've done so by now.'

'We shall see.' Then he gave a tilt of his head in place of a bow, turned on his heel and made his way for the door. As Terese was opening the door for him to leave Jean called to him, 'If you can't bring Adem back we're all doomed you know. I expect results!'

***

Adem trudged through the thick snow, his feet were freezing in his boots, and the snowfall was a thick fog before him, with Shienden's emerald tail and pale blue batwings flicking in the air as the little creature scampered along in front of him like a hound sniffing out a trail. He heard Shienden's gleeful snorting when the dark silhouette of a two storey manor began to appear though the gloom and falling snow, a cold wind also started up that made him wrap his Aldebrand cloak more tightly around his form.

It was early evening, and amber lights were glowing in some of the manor windows, a sign of human occupation. He would've preferred to find an abandoned home to rest for a while, as he did not feel in the mood for more company than the little dragon that spoke to his mind. Even a matter of hours after he should've received his evening Healing-Magic and he was already becoming unsociable and paranoid. He wondered if this was a good idea after all.

He still wore his disguise of course, and with a word from his mind to Shienden's, the little dragon rushed off out of sight of the old man whose form became more solid as Adem slowly approached the front porch. The man sat on a wooden chair smoking a pipe with a thick red-and-blue blanket wrapped around his gaunt frame. The man did not shiver, though his hands trembled when they lifted the pipe to his lips and lit the tobacco from a small stick dipped in a bowl of hot coals. The man's eyes were deep, and dark, set into a weathered brown face with many wrinkles across the forehead and around the eyes. The mortal lord smiled, and the wrinkles increased in many folds of skin, showing a few teeth missing from the brown stained rows that remained.

'It's freezing out there!' the old man bellowed at Adem. 'Better bring your pet in with you. At his size, even a dragon could freeze to death in this weather.' Adem cursed under his breath. The man had seen Shienden! The little dragon was adept at stealth, suggesting this old fellow had hawk eyes. 'There hasn't been a dragon in this part of the world for a long time,' the man continued. 'I should know too, been around a long time myself.' The old man brushed the hair above his right ear, and to Adem's shock, he saw that this man was of the immortal blood! Perhaps he was half human, which would explain how his face could age so much despite his pointed ears. What really concerned him was that it wouldn't take long for this old lord to figure out Adem's identity, so he said, 'We're just passing through, old man.' Then he turned and began to make his way back into the fog and snowfall.

'Suit yourselves,' the old man hollered. 'I'm the only one here, there's food prepared and a warm fire. That little dragon needs to get out of this cold!'

Adem halted, feeling the ice seep through the leather of his boots, he wore thick socks and undergarments, but this was close to the middle of winter, and he was not used to such conditions. He knew the old man was telling the truth, as Adem's Battle Angels had confirmed the house was empty.

'You look like you could use someone to talk to too, friend!'

Adem sighed and turned back to face the old lord. To the old man's eyes, Adem would appear to be a rather short Torvellen with dark hair and eyes, pointed ears and tan skin. He saw no use for this man in his plans, but he welcomed the opportunity to warm his bones in front of a fire, so he bowed, and whistled, and moments later Shienden came scurrying across the snow with his tail lashing in the air. He only made the noise to demonstrate to the man the obedience he could command over the little creature. Shienden raced up the steps of the porch and leapt on to the lap of the man. 'What's your name then, little one?'

'He's called Shienden'kroxus,' Adem said. At this the old man looked up at Adem with a shocked expression as he breathed the name, 'Dragon-Sword? Well then, what be your name stranger?'

'Show us this fire and the food you promised, old man,' Adem replied. 'Then we will talk.'

***

Serock's focus returned, the dark chamber—where he lay sprawled, like a broken toy doll, with arms wide and mouth hanging open, with drool falling from his lips—was filled with an amber glow, that came from the walls, like gold embedded in the rock, that reflected the light of the torches that burned on the walls, again a part of his old power, that allowed the wood to release fire for years, without damaging the enchanted torch. Vampires were also more accustomed to the light of these torches, than regular flames. There were nine of the devices, spaced around the cave-like walls of the chamber, with a dark floor of polished stone, and high vaulted ceilings, like a cathedral, where large bats clung upside down, wrapped in their black wings.

His eyes fell upon Koncha, seated behind a long stone desk in a chair like a throne; the new leader wore a plain brown coat under a cloak of emerald-green velvet. He wore no crown, though his eyes sparkled with the look of one mad with power. Beside him stood one of his three brides, the other two were spread over each of Serock's open arms, licking at bite marks they'd made in either side of his neck over a week before. The three vampire women had been feeding on him since then, taking turns at draining him close to death, then forcing him to eat and drink to replenish his blood for the next feasting. Serock was immune to the vampire curse, a part of his old power preserved since his reincarnation. For this reason, they might continue to drink his blood for as long as they wished to keep him alive, rather than the usual three days before he would become one of them, at which point a newly turned victim's blood became harmful to other vampires. The women also seemed to delight in the taste of his blood, as if it were a fine vintage put away for special occasions.

Koncha held the reason for Serock's capture in the palm of his right hand, a red stone that glowed with a wicked crimson light, only faintly, though whenever Serock looked upon the stone he saw the Fires of Hell reflected there. Serock was still unsure what the device was—despite his vast knowledge of ancient artefacts of great power used during the Wars of the Old Ways—or how Koncha had uncovered a device of such capacity, yet when Koncha held the stone aloft and used its power through his vampire abilities, Serock had become very weak, so much so that he was overpowered by the three brides, and they had fed on him ever since that day, here in this dank prison, while Koncha drilled him for information as Serock drifted in and out of consciousness.

The stone had reduced Serock's ability to wield so fast and so completely, he was helpless to even create a Portal-Spell to try to flee before he was captured. They had not left him alone long enough to make such an attempt since then, and they held him with a Shield-Trap, preventing him from reaching for teron via the mysterious stone, that gifted Koncha similar strength and abilities of a very strong, and talented Alit'aren.

Serock's biggest concern was for Hayley. He had been sincere in his oath to protect the wife of Wil Martyr. She reminded Serock of one of his three daughters, born over six thousand years ago, when Serock was a young hero, and immortal lord, of a small province and Keep, known as Stonerune. Kysari was her name, with the same large dark eyes and long silken hair like a raven's feathers. In truth she was his favourite daughter, adventurous and brave, a great archer and hunter. She loved to ride in the fields and forests, under the light of the sun or moon. One day, Kysari did not return from the hunt, and they sent a search party. The search lasted days, and Serock would not give up the search until they finally found her body face down in the river, with Rahkwel arrow shafts protruding from her back. They'd spotted her in the woods and shot her down as she rode by, shot her in the back! It was the heartbreaking loss of Kysari that had started the darkening of Serock's heart in those early days. He couldn't deal with loss and heartache without descending deeper into the dark void of despair that was the lure of the High-Jinn.

His head fell forwards in pain and anguish at the memory of the loss, his darling daughter's eyes staring frozen into the forest canopies as he lifted and turned her soaked body. The forest had heard his screams of outrage that morning by the river, and the Rahkwel had been hunted down and tortured greatly before their deaths. In that dark fit of despair, Serock had begun to enjoy causing pain to these creatures, he began to crave their bloodcurdling screams as their hearts were cut out of their chests, or their entrails were spilled onto the floor after he gutted them like animals. It was the beginning of his descent into evil.

He returned his focus to Koncha and the red stone, its light making Serock's vision watery and his eyes stung every time he looked into those endless fires. He tried to speak, to beg for mercy, but his lips were so dry, his mouth so parched, he could only release a faint whimper that expressed his pain at present, and in the past. The bride on his right side moved her lips towards his skin, biting down hard as she began to suck more blood from his veins.

Chapter 8

Dragon Sword

Adem sat with his back to the fireplace, where the large cauldron of stew bubbled, and gave off an aroma that made his mouth water. There was freshly baked bread on the table, and half a wheel of soft cheese, but he was waiting for the stew to be served. At present the warmth of the fire on his snow drenched flesh, and shivering bones, was enough to forget the hunger that raged in his core. Shienden sat at his feet, making soft vibrating sounds, similar to a purring feline. He was also happy to get out of the cold, and warm himself in front of open flames.

Adem still wore the disguise, he was certain the old half-blood sitting across from him could either sense Adem's use of Angel-Magic to create the illusion—despite Adem recently being taught by Serock to conceal his wielding from others—or he could possibly just see right through it. The way he sat there, with his wrinkled face, and head cocked to one side, with one eye glaring wide, and the other half lidded, Adem thought it was more likely the latter, although he would not be surprised if this old man was also a trained wielder.

'You must be starving!' The old man cried, for the third time since Adem had sat down and taken off his gloves to place them on the table beside him.

'Is there a point to you saying that?' Adem asked. 'I've already told you twice that I am famished, yet still you haven't had the courtesy to serve up any of that lovely stew.' The old man began to cackle at that, not an evil laugh, just the sound of a man as old as the Great Trees, or even older. Then he said with a grin, 'You'll get to eat when I get to see your face! I don't mind bringing strangers in the house, I just don't like them hiding behind layers of Illusion-Magic.'

Adem sighed and then allowed his hold on teron to vanish and knew that his disguise did also at that same moment. He regretted letting go of the fierce glow of Angel-Magic, but he could not maintain that disguise all the time, as Jinn-Magic was just too powerful every moment that he held even the small amount needed to create the spells. Even a day without his Healing-Magic and wielding that small amount of teron was having a terrible effect on his mind.

The old man cackled with delight; then he said, 'That's the face I expected to see! Who else would command the only dragon left alive in this day and age? Who else could reincarnate the spirit of Dragon Sword?'

'You apparently know my name and story,' Adem replied. 'Will you tell me yours?'

'Yes, yes, all in good time,' the man answered. 'But my name, ah, that is an old one, when I was a youth, I was called Tollaven, but you may call me Toll. First, we must discuss your little companion. Tell me, does he speak to you?' Shienden raised his snout and made a number of snorting noises, it seemed the question had upset him.

'What if he does?'

'Aha! Then you must be him! The one they call Blue Water Dragon!'

'I am he. What does that have to do with Shienden being able to communicate with me?'

'It is a part of ancient Prophecies!' Toll shouted with glee. 'The Blue Water Dragon, the saviour of Kismeria will bring back the greatest of all dragons, the one known as Dragon-Sword in ancient times. The prophecies say their bond shall include speech between minds, similar to the kigare. Only the blood of the Blue Water Dragon will be able to speak with Shienden'kroxus, according to the ancient texts.'

'I know quite a lot about the Ragnarök Cycle,' Adem said, 'but I have never heard of this, nor has anyone I know.'

'Oh, but I am old!' Toll said as he slapped his thigh. 'I was born before the High-Servants came into being, before vampires roamed, long before!' Toll's tale intrigued Adem to a great extent, however his stomach began to groan, and a great fire burned within, so he gestured to the loaf of bread and asked, 'May I have a few bites?'

Toll slapped the side of his head and said, 'Of course, please, take all you can eat. I will get you some stew. Forgive my forgetfulness. You are surely very hungry.' Despite the truth of those words, Adem still waited until the hot steaming stew sat in a bowl in front of him before he reached for the bread to dip in the rich gravy. It was rabbit stew, with carrots, onions and peas, a hearty winter meal that sent warmth through his being and slowly sated his hunger as he gulped down mouthfuls with a silver spoon. Shienden began to whine with his tail lashing the air until Toll placed a bowl of the stew in front of him. To Adem's surprise, the vegetables did not stop the little dragon from eating, and he wasted nothing, licking the bowl dry when he finished the first serving.

'I think he likes it!' Toll said. 'Little fellow never took a breath between gulps.' Adem took a moment to swallow the chunk of cheese he'd been chewing before he replied, 'He has quite an appetite for one so small.'

'Yes, and he'll grow big and strong, like a mountain.' Shienden made more gleeful snorting noises as Toll refilled his bowl and placed it before him. Adem took a moment for his stomach to settle while he said to Toll, 'So, why don't you tell me what else you know about Shienden?' Toll moved back to take a seat opposite Adem, setting a bowl of the hot stew in front of himself and lifting a wooden spoon to start prodding at the meat and vegetables. 'There is much to tell, though little is known. I recall hearing as a youth that Shienden would return about a thousand years before the Ragnarök Battle. It was said that the dragon would return to his full size, to combat Jinn-Fendinn and His Shadowspawn. Dragonfire! That's it! Dragon-Sword would wield Dragonfire to defeat the enemies of Odin!'

'That all sounds rather predictable,' Adem mused. 'Tell me something I can put a little faith in.' Toll sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin as his larger eye rolled around in his head like a marble, he appeared to be in deep thought. Finally, he threw his hands up in the air and said, 'My memory, it has withered with age, much like my old bones. You must visit me again sometime. I will remember. I'm sure of it!'

'Were you going to tell me that Shienden's fire is the only thing that can harm Fendinn?'

'Other than the Magic of the All-Father and the Blue Water Dragon,' Toll agreed. Then he said, 'No, that was relevant but not the words on the tip of my tongue. It is gone for now. But it shall return, and so you must also!'

'That could put you in great danger,' Adem warned. 'Even being here now, there are some who would question you, torture you, and very likely murder you if they thought you had information of value to me.' Toll barked a laugh and waved the comment aside as he said, 'I am very old, Adem Highlander. Time will take me soon enough. If I can be of service to you, it would be the least I can do.'

'Tell me more about your lineage. I'm puzzled by your history. Was your father an immortal and your mother a mortal?'

'How else would I look the way that I do?' Toll replied. 'Yes, in those days it was not frowned upon, mixing the bloodlines. There were many more like me in my youth, though they are all long gone. I'm the only one left, for some reason life has clung to me like viscous tar, though my body becomes weak and my mind begins to fail me.' Both his eyes were narrow now, he looked focused, his gaze distant, perhaps from looking so far into the past.

Adem sat and waited for him to continue. 'My father was a Torvellen Archer when I was born, long ago, Ages ago. He met my mother and fell in love with her eyes and her smile, or so he told me. My mother died giving birth to me, although that is uncommon, even for mixed blood births. So, my father was left to raise a half blood; that was not a shameful thing in those days, though it was a burden for him to think that he would likely outlive his offspring.' The first time Adem had seen Toll's immortal ears, and his weathered face and gaunt frame, it had made him think of his own son, and what the years would do to him if he lived anywhere near as long as this man.

It was not the finely matured look of an ancient immortal, more the look of an unrelentingly strong spirit wrapped in a shell that had slowly decayed as it was ravaged by time. It was pitiful in a way, compared with the youthfulness of immortals, and it explained to Adem why this practice of mixing bloodlines was eventually declared inappropriate. Yet he also saw a man with a great gift in his veins, a mortal's flesh housing the ghost of immortality, or something like it. As he sat in the silence of Toll's thoughts, he asked, 'Were you ever an Alit'aren?'

'Oh, I trained with them, yes,' Toll said, his gaze returning to the present to lock Adem with a hard stare. 'But I was cast out! They said there was conflict in my capacity to wield, to focus, a complication of my mixed heritage. I was never allowed to progress past the level of Seidr'tera, and I was older than any of the others by that time. So, I never passed through the final test to be raised Alit'aren, though I have heard whispers about that experience. They say that you're never quite the same once you've seen your own life a thousand times over.'

'It is forbidden to discuss any experiences within the Chameleon Arch,' Adem said with a warning tone. Toll rolled his eyes again, then replied, 'Yes, but I've heard whispers all the same. I'm sure it changed you, and your friends, did it not?'

'It isn't something I'm willing to discuss,' Adem said. Then after a pause he added, 'I'm sorry about your mother; it must have been difficult being raised without her.'

'I have nothing to compare it to,' Toll said with a deep sigh. 'My father never loved another woman after her, as if he thought she was his one true life partner. Are you aware that immortal men only ever love one woman in their lifetime?'

'So how many women did you fall for, when you were young?' At that Toll slapped his thigh again and gave a shrill chuckle before he admitted, 'Oh, it is different for half-bloods, we have the spirits of fire and the hearts of desire, craving as much love as we can fit into our days.'

'Surely not,' Adem said in disbelief.

'Ah, I do not jest, in truth there are so many women's names on that list I can only remember their faces, or their favourite coloured dresses, the scent of her perfume, or her eyes and her smile. Sometimes even those details become difficult to recollect.'

'Were they all mortal women?' Adem asked because he knew the sad truth of this tale was that Toll would have outlived all of them. The old man nodded with a regretful grimace, before he said, 'No immortal maiden would ever lay a hand on a half blood. Just look at me. If the Torvellen girls I'd grown up with were still alive today, they'd appear young and beautiful, a wellspring of vibrancy and health. Though they held hands with me and sometimes kissed me behind the trees in my youth, once my bloodlines became apparent, I was an outcast amongst them, and mostly the mortals treated me with jealousy and disdain.'

'It must have been very difficult for you,' Adem said. He felt empathy for the man also, his story left a burning hole in Adem's chest, as he considered further the fate of his own child that would soon be born as a half blood. After the meal Adem sat on the front porch with Toll as he smoked his pipe and both sipped at large mugs of warm apple cider. It was the strong alcoholic kind, but Adem perceived no danger at present, nor did his Battle Angels, so he indulged himself, and even borrowed one of Toll's spare pipes to have a few relaxing puffs. They watched the snow falling with a peaceful silence between them, unless Toll would grin and bark a laugh as he pointed at Shienden chasing rabbits across the snow-covered fields surrounding the house.

'I think he's still hungry!' Toll would remark, and Adem would chuckle silently, sometimes coughing as he was not used to a pipe. Later, as evening set in, Adem felt his illness progressing, and this was noticed by Toll, who offered to provide Healing-Magic. This was a risk, as there was the chance that the old man was in fact a Shadowsouled, and giving him the ability to wield through him, put Adem in a vulnerable position, perhaps even risking a swift death. Though, he put his trust in Toll, and agreed, and the old man proved to be even more skilled at Healing-Magic than any Ael Tarael Adem had met so far. Adem felt almost as sane as he did when medicated. There was no hint of a headache or a temperature. His thoughts were clear. He thanked Toll and agreed that he would return when necessary for further treatment.

'There'll always be food waiting for you, and Shienden too!' The old man shouted joyfully as he waved farewell to Adem and his little dragon. Adem decided he should move on if his plan was to take effect. As he trudged through the thick snow in the fading light, he formed another Portal-Spell, and returned the disguise to his face, stepping through after Shienden raced in ahead of him like a faithful guard dog. He had no particular destination in mind so far, so he wandered the land, hunting for spies, aiming to be noticed by them.

The next day he allowed Arawn to send one message to Carl's and Wil's Battle Angels.

You must watch over Jean and Isabelle!

***

Carl was making his way to the Royal Stables with Elarja and Arig, when the message flashed through his mind, sent from Adem's Battle Angel, Arawn, and relayed by one of Carl's, Math Mathonwy. It was the first communication he'd received from Adem since his departure. Adem's Battle Angels were blocking, so that no one else could discern where they were or what they were planning. The fact that Arawn, Balor and Llew were going along with whatever Adem had planned, suggested the three Battle Angels had some belief that he could achieve those aims.

Of course, Adem would be concerned for the two women he loved, but why he had abandoned them at this time was a mystery to Carl. He urged Math and Angus to question Adem's Battle Angels on the subject, in the hope that they would reveal some information. Carl wore Alit'aren coat and trousers, with knee high brown leather boots and crimson armour with a golden lion emblazoned across the chest. He paced the hallways while using his crimson spear like a walking staff, moving with haste to avoid delaying the next stage of their mission.

His chestnut brown altherin was saddled when he reached the stables, and he put his foot in the right stirrup and was handed the reins by a Korhadian stable boy, a blonde-haired youth with large pale eyes and an angular jaw like chiselled stone. The boy saluted Carl when he was in the saddle, and Carl gave a nod of recognition; then reached into his belt pouch to flick a coin at the young man. The boy's reflexes were swift enough to catch the coin, and his immortal eyes would never have missed the way that gold reflected the morning light. He gave a deep bow and hurried off to further duties.

Carl waited as Arig and Elarja were mounted on dark altherin stallions, and soon after he was surrounded by those two as well as the former rulers of Nordhel and Tarvel. Orion wore a blue mask that covered his face below his eye line, and gauntlets of lacquered steel, with the tightly wrapped black cloth across his form known as the ghoda'sidhe. Tobin wore the torin'sidhe, camouflage coat and trousers with pale grey lace up boots. Lydia and Elmira wore their usual blue silk gowns with white woollen cloaks to fight the winter cold, though all four of them were adept at ignoring the temperature of the elements at any time. Carl was not so skilled, and the winds were biting cold like ice in his flesh, he wrapped his Aldebrand cloak tightly around his form as they prepared to ride out.

Hayley, Isabelle, Jean and Terese were further ahead, after being escorted to the Stables by a sizeable guard of Ael Tarael. The female wielders formed a circle around the four women, with Aldebrands and Alit'aren forming larger rings around the Ael Tarael. Twenty-five thousand riders in total spread out onto the fields surrounding Korhad two hours later, after slow moving through the city streets with immortal men and women cheering and waving their farewells to the Sons and the Daughter, and the woman who was to give birth to the heir of Adem Highlander. These people put so much hope and faith in Carl and his friends; he did not want to let them down.

By the tenth hour of the morning, the riders began a march northward, moving to a suitable position to create a Portal-Spell large enough to travel through. Carl had to link in a chain of seven male wielders and two Ael Tarael to accomplish the feat of a doorway through space that was high enough for immortals to ride through, and nearly forty feet wide, large enough to move through at a pace that allowed a formidable defence to go ahead first and scout for danger. There were still demon hordes moving about the Green Border, and if they were ambushed moving through the Portal-Magic it might be a massacre for those that went first.

Riders fanned out on a hillside a thousand abreast, with more ranks pouring from the doorway to move into position. When Carl made it to the other side of the doorway, he saw high obsidian walls of the city of Orodhel, in the heart of Odhelor, the northern kingdom of the Borderlands, and home to Tobin's first-born son, Prince Turin. It was also where the rebels were hiding out, hoping to influence the warrior prince if he became King of the Nordics.

Even for altherin horses in an army of this scale, it would have taken months to travel the distance from Korhad to Orodhel in snow this thick. They had just made the journey in six hours, the time needed to move the riders through the Portal-Spell and assemble on the hill looking over the city. This new ability had great potential, though Carl felt tension take over his countenance before he released Angel-Magic—the joy of a thousand blessings by heavenly angels coursing through his veins, suddenly vanishing to be replaced by a deep loss and sorrow, the withdrawals of sheer ecstasy—and felt the rancid shadows of Jinn-Magic slip away from his soul.

This new gift came at a high price it seemed. Chains large enough to open Portal-Spells that size were going to cost him peace of mind in the future; and perhaps his sanity also. Yet he considered the responsibility should be his before Adem's, as his old friend was already too far gone. Wil also needed to avoid wielding teron as much as possible, as Carl had noticed a change in him since the link at Hordrin's Corridor. He seemed to always wear a darker mood these days, his expressions also revealing troubled thoughts. Again, they were being crushed between time and necessity. They needed Angel-Magic, but over time it was chipping away at their every fibre, mind, flesh and spirit.

Chapter 9

Negotiating with Tarz

The winter months seemed to pass rapidly for Jean, as she spent most of her time in discussions with Rodriel Tarz, and the rebel leaders at Orodhel, in the Chamber of Order. The room was plain black stone, with a marble floor of blue and red squares, and shimmering ebony marble columns, supporting a vaulted ceiling, worked with sculptures of demons lurking in the shadows. This was a Borderland Kingdom, and though it had more finery than Prince Lune's castle at Korhad, it was mostly plain dark stone fit for defending the people against a demon invasion. Armour and weaponry lined the walls of the Chamber, so much so Jean thought it should be named the Chamber of Weapons. A large polished oak table sat in the centre of the room, with Prince Turin at the head of the table, with a window of coloured glass behind him, that caught the afternoon light, depicting an ancient King being crowned—which Jean suspected was the reason this chamber was always chosen for these meetings.

Tarz sat to the right of Turin, also at the long head of the table, with Jean and Terese seated at the opposite end of the table, that sat over twenty down each side, of the heavily carved oak. Jean found her fingers tracing the fox head, that was carved below her seated position, each day that she tackled Tarz, and the other rebel leaders in what was called negotiations. But she preferred to describe it as bashing her skull against a stone wall.

Hayley gave birth to a beautiful baby daughter during those winter months, a dark eyed child without the insignia fang shaped canines typical of all other vampires. The child drank her mother's milk and did not seem to be lacking proper nutrients, besides the fact that they had not allowed the child to taste blood yet. The evidence suggested that the child—Enserah they named her—would have all the powers of a vampire, without the thirst, and would also be able to survive in sunlight like her mother. Jean's concern was the child's vulnerability, and the fact that Enserah would be a target for Koncha and his minions in their desires to learn the secret of vampires walking in sunlight.

Wil was overwhelmed to be a father and spent all his spare time watching over her in her crib of white painted wood, with cartoony Elves with large goblin-type faces, painted on the board above her pillow. Hayley also became more withdrawn as the days progressed since Enserah's birth, showing less dedication to her training to become Ael Tarael, and seeming partly obsessed with protecting her baby. Jean did not blame her.

There was never a single word from Adem, not even from his Battle Angels to hers, so she could at least know he was alright. She told herself not to worry over him, that whatever he had planned was more important than negotiations with Tarz. Still, she missed his gentle touch during those cold winter months, when the biting chills even made it past her Ael Tarael armour of ignoring the elements via meditation and mind control. Perhaps it was her emotional state that allowed a slip in her focus to result in feeling the cold. She was becoming more agitated as the days passed by. At first, she guessed it was related to her frustration over those meetings where she battled for supremacy, though her monitoring of the Ael Tarael moods and behaviours showed similar symptoms developing in almost every one of them. It was the curse upon terael that was at fault she later realised, which suggested a very grim outlook for the future.

At first, she had hoped it was only affecting those women who were secretly practicing the newly discovered Jinn Arts behind her back. She soon found out about the secret meetings but decided to feign no knowledge of the practice, so she could keep an eye on those who practiced and monitor the changes in their states of mind. Those women were certainly showing susceptibility to the curse, however as more and more women began to show symptoms, she surmised that either all Ael Tarael were secretly practicing the Jinn Arts, or that the curse itself would infect their minds, bodies and souls regardless of whether or not they indulged in that tainted power.

'I demand to know who was responsible for the murder of those Ael Tarael who tried to stop your men from leaving camp that night,' Jean said in a harsh tone. That had been a point of a stalemate in their negotiations since the beginning, and Tarz used every trick he knew to avoid submitting to her demands. 'I want their names and rank, in writing, and I want them brought before a trial to decide their fate.'

'That will take more time, Snow Fox,' Tarz replied with a serious frown, it seemed the more she pushed him on this issue, the more it sunk in that she would not be willing to relent on her goal to punish those responsible.

'I also want the names of those who gave the order to attack,' Jean said in a calm tone, though the way she stared at Tarz she thought her eyes might burn holes through his skull. Jean was almost certain Tarz had given those orders, which would mean the death sentence for him if she could prove it and enforce justice.

'I am as yet uncertain whether your requests can be adequately fulfilled,' Tarz said, using a tactic he'd tried dozens of times already. Jean was learning that part of these negotiations was to try to outsmart your opponent with clever words of formality, that could outlast the winter, the way things were going.

'I am certain,' Jean said, 'that those responsible will face the hangman's noose or the chopping block.' She did not need to shout those last words; the words themselves had enough effect on the faces of the dark coated men gathered around that table. Their eyebrows looked ready to hit the ceiling. Choosing to mention the exact form of punishment she had planned was a new tactic, one she decided—after saying it—was perhaps not necessary yet. Still, she knew it would have a lasting effect on these negotiations, the rebels now knew she would demand retribution for the murder of those women.

Carl raised a fist over his mouth and gave a fake cough, one of his tactics of subtle warnings for Jean that she was perhaps overstepping her position. She doubted that. After she'd renounced the thrones of two Immortal Kings and their Queens, her status was perhaps greater than the Blue Water Dragon. She had to show absolute dominance, or this pack of half rabid wolves would begin to bite when backed into a corner.

Carl had stayed by her side the entire winter, despite Jean's insistence that he be out searching for Adem. Carl always replied that Adem wanted him to look after her first and foremost. Whenever Jean asked Carl how he knew this, the man was terribly evasive, though Jean suspected there was still some messages transferred between their Battle Angels, and that Adem had instructed Carl to watch over her and Isabelle. That thought was somewhat reassuring, to know he had not abandoned his duty to her, or his devotion to see that she was always protected, however the fact that he was not around to commit to that role personally, always added to her sour moods.

Carl coughed again, and when she gazed at him, he gave her a nod which was his signal that he would temporarily take over the negotiations, a system they'd worked out weeks before this day. Wearing his high collared Alit'aren black coat of finely cut wool, under an Aldebrand cloak to hold off the chill of the room, Carl turned to face Tarz like a placid lion with a dangerous gleam to his eyes. 'General Tarz, as you know, I've been exploring the nature of the corruption on teron for some time, and it has come to my attention that these rumours of evil spirits possessing the minds and bodies of male wielders whose minds have begun to slip, is perhaps more substantiated than first presumed.'

Those words had an impact on the faces of many of the rebel Alit'aren in the room, including Tarz in particular, though Jean was certain they had tried to practice the deceptive calm visage expected of their kind. Tarz replied, 'Continue.'

'I would like to request the right to study some of your men,' Carl said with a sly grin, as he would know this was something Tarz could not refuse if he wished to continue the peace negotiations. 'Not all of them, of course, just enough to conduct a thorough study of the effects of Jinn-Magic, and to further investigate this theory of evil spirits possessing madmen. Will you accept?'

Tarz looked as if he'd been struck in the face by that question, and he faltered for a few moments as he looked to his fellow Alit'aren leaders in a sort of mind meld through eye contact and facial expressions to decide on how to respond. After a number of unreadable stares from grey haired mortal Alit'aren and a few wise eyed immortals, Tarz conceded to the request, and this brought a tremor of concerned whispers throughout the room from the rebel men. Jean wondered; could there be possessed men amongst the wielders in this very meeting? If there were spies for Fendinn watching their every move; that could result in disaster with each decision they announced.

During the winter there were also many reports reaching Jean's desk regarding male wielders turning mad from the corruption on teron. Few reports suggested the motivations of these men were evil, but the madness resulted in Alit'aren and their lower level students as well as Aldebrands attacking innocents with Angel-Magic. In one case over fifty villagers were almost burnt alive by one mortal Seidr'tera who unleashed an assault of flames upon a farmhouse where the people had gathered to try to flee the madman. Up until that time the Seidr'tera had been taking pleasure in making farm animals explode, reportedly because he believed them to be little Shadowspawn, pigs, sheep, goats and even chickens! Fortunately, eight of his Seidr companions caught up with him in time to shield him and put out the house fire before anyone passed out from smoke inhalation. That was perhaps the most disturbing report she'd received so far, but the pattern was forming to suggest that time was running out for her hopes of finding a potion to try to cure the effects of Jinn-Magic. It was also becoming evident that such a remedy would be vital to ensure there was a Kismeria to return to, over one thousand years from now. If these reports were a precursor to the Age of Chaos, she often trembled to consider the shocking events that may transpire during the years that she and the Sons of Odin were absent from this world.

She had set up finance for chemistry research into possible medicinal treatments for the effects of the corruption on teron, as well as studies into ways to reduce the effects of the female curse. There were various schools established with the greatest known chemists from across the lands, set up as High Druids within each school, that were known as the Chemist Guilds, of which there were eleven separate schools set up within major cities, including one in Orodhel and another in Korhad. She spent some of her spare time speaking with the High Druid of the Orodhel Guild, where she witnessed trials of the various potions being tested on volunteer wielders, who were showing varying degrees of effects from the curse and Jinn-Magic.

Jean sat in her bedchamber, in front of the roaring fire, later that day, following the meeting with the rebels. Isabelle sat on a red cushioned sofa, looking nearly ready to burst with her pregnancy. Terese watched the door, in a dark green coat, blue trousers, and lime green boots. Jean wore a dark blue woollen coat, that was thick for winter weather, with thick white woollen stockings, and navy-blue leather boots, turned down at the knee. Her sword rested on the blue cushioned couch, by her left leg, and her bow was propped against her right side, as she was always ready to summon her Battle Angels. She understood Terese's insistence for the importance of being prepared for any threats, and she was on her guard at all times.

Isabelle wore a petulant frown, dark hair in a thick braid, with a deep green silk gown, cut low at the breast, and worked with golden patterns across the waist and hem. The Ruhalden Princess still took up most of Jean's spare hours, as Jean was still her appointed babysitter. Today Isabelle was in a mood, because she could not see the arrival ceremony of the Lords and Ladies of surrounding nations, who had journeyed to Orodhel to join the meetings, to decide upon the crowning of the new King of the Nordics.

The woman was being so obnoxious Jean was forced to leave her alone with Terese and their Aldebrands at the door, so that Jean could stretch her legs, and also clear her head, while walking the halls. She took two of her Aldebrands with her, dark-eyed Kenen had been reappointed as Captain Commander of Jean's personal guard, after many months in contemplation of his error, at allowing Jean to slip off in the middle of the night, to meet in secret with Adem Highlander. That was Terese's inflicted punishment upon the tall immortal, and he had suffered in embarrassment during that time and offered his services to a lieutenant, after taking the oath of the immortals to carry out the duties of a servant to pay for their loss of honour. Today Kenen wore silvered armour over a grey coat, dark trousers and knee-high brown leather boots, with his long sword strapped to his waist. The other Aldebrand was another of the four men who had been cast down by Terese, for their lack of responsibility, that night, that Jean was busted for meeting with Adem. Zel, the blue-eyed Nordic, was shorter and slenderer than Kenen's tan skinned Torvellen frame, yet Zel still stood nearly a head height above Jean, in dark blue armour: two golden sword hilts rising above his shoulders.

The two men patrolled the halls like tall stalking cats, light on their feet with an agile grace in their movements. Kenen marched in front of Jean to her right, with Zel behind and to her left. Neither had their swords drawn, though they could unsheathe the blades in an instant at the first sign of any danger. Jean carried her emerald bow in the leather case over her shoulder—the Resting Point for Tanriel—and the blue blade that housed the spirit of Anwen in her emerald scabbard at her waist. Her Battle Angels were her real protection if her Aldebrands were easily outmatched, yet Jean still had a feeling of discomfort as she walked those halls. She could not shake the fear of the possibility that some of the Alit'aren and Seidr'tera were possessed by evil spirits. It gave her an unsettling shiver up her spine each time she crossed a hallway to face a dark coated male wielder, sometimes two or three of them together in whispered conversation.

They were not always the rebels that made her nervous, mostly these halls were patrolled by her own Alit'aren and Seidr'tera—which should reduce the possibility of any of them being susceptible to possession, as they were restricted in their wielding, and therefore less likely to become mad, or evil—but she sometimes saw more than just the commonly recognised dangerous glow behind the eyes of some of those men, both young and old. What she saw was a hint of malice, a spark of contempt, a flicker of ill will on their faces and burning in their eyes.

It was something she'd never noticed until today, after the possession theory was mentioned by Carl in the Chamber of Order. Now she thought she could perceive signs of both evil emotions and the possibility of an alien spirit inhabiting the minds of some of these men. They were trained to disguise such emotions behind a bland expression and would not let such feelings become amplified across their visage unless they were becoming unstable or worse.

Two young Seidr'tera who had never showed such signs were Ron and Del, both mortal boys, Del being the one who Jean was now certain had a serious crush on her. He and Ron would always seem to appear in the hallways while she was walking, whether they were on duty or not. Del's clear green eyes were always bursting with emotion, yet he kept his face carved from stone, emotionless, calm, attempting to hide the passion he felt for her. He was an innocent child, though not much younger than her, and he was handsome. She found herself blushing as the two young men came into view around a corner, both with surprised expressions flickering across their faces before the disguise of stone returned, a portion of their daily practice to become like their leaders.

'Lady Jean,' Del said with a deep bow, followed by Ron immediately after, as Del continued, asking, 'how are you feeling, my Lady?'

'My mood is just fine, Del,' Jean lied quickly. She could not allow rumours to begin that the Alit'aren were making her nervous. 'Thank you for asking. It seems that I see you two in these halls too often of late. I hope you are not shirking your training?' At that question, Del responded by raising his brows with wide eyes to reply, 'No, of course not, Lady Jean. Ron and I volunteered for hall duty today.' That brought a startled look from Ron that was quickly covered with a straight face, a sure sign to Jean that Del was lying, though she would not embarrass him further.

'I would've thought the two of you would rather watch today's ceremonies?' Jean said with a calm expression, though she still had the feeling of discomfort, as if danger lurked around the next corner. Then Del looked over his shoulder, as if he had sensed something, a male wielder harnessing Angel-Magic she guessed. Ron reacted a moment later, as Kenen stepped into Jean's path to meet a beam of green light that touched his silvered armour, and a moment later he turned to a complex pattern of glowing light, and then he vanished completely! It was a spell aimed at her of course, and she looked over the boys' shoulders to see the attacker, a rebel Alit'aren with dark eyes filled with hatred! The elderly male raised a fist—and Ron or Del must've created Shield-Spheres at the same moment—as yellow-orange flames burst from the walls and floor to encase them in heat and light that the Seidr'tera Shield-Spells could barely deflect. All of this happened in the moments that Jean witnessed the death of her Captain Commander, and the pain that struck her heart was fuelled with a rage for vengeance as she shouted, 'Tanriel!'

A stronger Shield-Sphere formed around them, created by her Battle Angel, at the same moment that Tanriel appeared behind the Alit'aren attacker, a spear of crimson fire punched through his back to burst out of his chest. A moment later fire scorched his flesh until a skeleton of red flames fell in a pile on the carpet. Jean realised she should've instructed Tanriel to try to capture the man for questioning. She already knew the man had been either mad or evil, but she wished to know whether he'd also been possessed. The look in those eyes suggested that theory was likely. Tanriel smothered the flames and they made a hasty return to Jean's quarters. Isabelle and Terese were unharmed, and Terese was furious when she heard about the death of Kenen. Jean guessed she would've felt real pain from Terese also if they'd been joined via the kigare, though all she saw on the woman's face was passionate outrage. 'At least he did his bloody job this time!' Terese said with cheeks burning bright red. There were no tears welling in her eyes, yet Jean believed they were held back by the fire of her dominating emotion. 'Is Carl on his way?'

'He is,' Jean replied. 'I told him to summon Tarz before he gets here.'

'Yes, that bastard has a lot of explaining to do! Consider the fact that this occurred only a few hours after you pushed him for the names of the murderers, and the one who gave the order to attack Ael Tarael. It reeks of conspiracy!'

Jean blinked at her own stupidity. She'd completely overlooked the theory that Tarz or another rebel leader had ordered her execution to stop her from getting to the bottom of those murders. If this theory was in fact the real reason, it would suggest Tarz was a Shadowsouled!

'We'll need to be very sure of ourselves before we go making such accusations,' Jean said. 'I thought I saw something in the attacker's eyes, it was something ... I can't describe it. He stared at me with more than hatred, more than the look of an evil man. I think he might have been possessed.' Terese seemed to lose some of her anger, and her cheeks faded to a lighter shade of pink, then she looked to Del and Ron and said, 'You two, get back to your duties! Not a word of this to anyone! Now go!'

'They saved my life, Terese,' Jean said defensively after the boys left the room, along with Zel who returned to guarding the door outside. That poor man was showing signs of obvious angst over the loss of his friend. Terese flared with anger again as she snapped, 'Just think of it, if these spirits are amongst us, they would try to overpower those you trust the most. Any male wielder you turn your back on could become a threat to your life!'

'What do you suggest we do then?'

'I might have to replace your guard with Ael Tarael only. Let me think on it. Even Carl and Wil could be at risk, perhaps even Adem if he is going without Healing-Magic all this time.'

'I know he's not that far gone yet,' Jean said with harshness to her tone. She still sensed Adem's emotions sometimes, despite the fact that he'd learned to block his emotions and approximate location from her. She knew someone was providing Healing-Magic for him, not every day, but enough to keep him from losing the plot completely. He was tense, anxious and alone, and right now she needed him more than ever. She sent him a message via Tanriel.

Come home please, Adem. We all need you. I need you!

Chapter 10

The Path Alone

Adem sat at a small table away from the fireplace of the common room, a long rectangular space with pale grey plastered walls over blue stone. The tables were dark-stained and polished to a high gleam, the candlelight of the room reflecting off the dark silky glow. The fireplace was surrounded by weary looking travellers, in plain dark green coats and brown trousers and boots, the women with them dressed in spun wool gowns or hooded robes, though they clung to the forms of the younger prettier ones, including a honey skinned Torvellen woman with fire in her dark eyes and a long black braid similar to Terese.

This was Torvellen country, well within the borders of Torvis, though more than two weeks hard riding from the capital, Tarvel. Adem had spent months roaming the lands seeking out hints of his quarry, listening to rumours on the winds. The talk of war in these lands was not rumour, of course. Lords and Ladies were gathering armies in the farmlands and estates of Torvis, preparing to march on the capital to lay siege to the city, in the hope of being crowned the next King or Queen of the Torvellen. When the battles might break out was still only speculative; though from what Adem knew so far, this battle for the Immortal Crowns could last decades or even centuries! He had heard of skirmishes between forces on a number of occasions, though they were reportedly only Archers and Dremelden Wood Kin causing mischief with their bows and their swift feet via their Wood Lore, phantom attacks during the night with soldiers being harried by rain of arrows, only to rush out into the night to face only shadows. Torvellen were almost equal in Wood Lore to the Dremelden, though with the Torvellen those skills were more often attributed to Aldebrands or Archers, rather than common soldiers serving in private armies. They were more often farmers with warfare in their blood and bones, skilled at hunting and weaponry, though not as attuned to the elements as their forest bred cousins.

The travellers would be fleeing the armies gathering in the farmlands, seeking refuge at Tarvel where they would likely wait out a siege until a new ruler was named. They all had a ragged look about them, as if they'd been pushed from the peace and comfort of their farmer or villager lifestyles, and Adem knew that some were also fleeing the mad Alit'aren that had begun to attack innocent people across the Free Lands. People always headed for the city when there was trouble in the surrounding lands, as if they believed that behind stone walls, they would be safe. Adem knew that wasn't true. If the mad Alit'aren began targeting cities to vent their paranoid violence, stone walls would not suffice.

Adem wore his disguise of course, appearing as the rather short Torvellen-blood immortal, of no particular class or rank, a wanderer, though perhaps an Archer, or Aldebrand gone rogue, or perhaps even a solitary Alit'aren. He'd heard all the theories whispered in the inns and taverns he'd passed through during these freezing winter months. Everyone wagered a guess on who he was and where he was going or what he was running from, it seemed his importance in this world could not be hidden from the fire that kindled in his own eyes. He wore a plain blue coat today, one he'd bought at a marketplace south of Torvis, in a small Torvellen village named Domrelle. He liked to change outfits every few weeks to avoid forming too strong a trail, so he'd traded the green coat and today he wore thick black leather trousers and knee-high blue leather boots. Often, he'd heard people whisper that he must be an Aldebrand of the Blue Dragon Rohjor, though no one would ever guess that he was in fact the Blue Water Dragon in disguise.

Still, word was spread from person to person, villager, farmer, merchant, soldier, lord or lady, people were always talking about him wherever he went. And a trail formed behind him with each passing day, a trail of breadcrumbs that he hoped would be followed by those he was in fact seeking. His thoughts were disrupted as the dark haired Torvellen woman began to look his way and smile. He told himself to ignore the gesture, yet he decided he should wink back to hold up the disguise. Any Torvellen-blood that showed no interest in such a pretty young woman would have to be already involved. He did not want that kind of information becoming part of the rumours that spread about his disguise. It could lead to the clever ones realising his true identity, and that could put him in serious danger. His enemies would be aware that he had abandoned his friends for many months now, though the chances of them knowing for certain that this Torvellen wanderer was actually Adem Highlander, were slim chances if any. Of course, he'd want them to figure it out eventually. That was all a part of his plans.

Another rumour whispered by men young and old, was that at least one of the lords and one of the ladies gathering armies to lay siege to Tarvel, were in fact the Hex-Keepers who served second in rank under the High-Servants. They even said that a High-Servant had taken up residence inside the Torvellen Palace. No one could say for certain who these evil puppet masters were when wearing their disguises, though he had heard a number of names as guesses. Lord Riolten, a dark-eyed Torvellen who had armies on the western borders of Tarvel, or Lady Terellis, a slender beauty who had ruled estates south of Torvis for seven mortal generations or more, or Lord Haimlad, an aged Torvellen with a hawk-like eyes and nose, with white at his temples like bristling feathers. Those were the three names Adem guessed most likely to be his enemies in disguise, Haimlad being the one throwing his weight around in the King's Palace, which would make him the one Adem wished to bait more than any other. Hex-Keepers would be a prized catch, but Adem was hoping to reel in one of the Big Fish!

A slender Torvellen bar maid brought him his evening meal two hours later. He'd sat there sipping his cider in a bronzed mug that entire time; and he found that he was famished when the steaming plate of roasted goat and potatoes, in a rich gravy sauce, was placed before him, with a side serving of fresh bread, and a quarter slice of blue cheese. His gold had stretched well these winter months, as he'd often returned to the aged half-blood Toll, to stock up on supplies and receive his ritual Healing-Magic. The old man kept him sane enough, but Adem had not visited the man for nearly a week now, as his trail was growing too strong, and he did not wish to endanger the kind old soul. Adem had also had to maintain his disguise for most of those six days, which added to his stress and anxiety, making it difficult to hide the tell-tale signs of being a male wielder in the Age of Chaos. The strain on his forehead eased while he ate his meal however, as he found it calming and soothing to fill his belly with hot food on a cold winter's day.

Then he heard heavy boots stomping on the polished floorboards in the front hall, then entering the common room as he lowered his spoon, feeling only half full and loath to waste such a fine meal, though he knew his trail had finally caught up with him, and he grinned to himself with lidded eyes as he watched seven dark coated men form a barrier in front of his table. Seven Alit'aren, he'd caught some decent sized fish today. The men stood with hands on their hips, as the weary travellers were ushered out of the room by the innkeeper, who was a round-bellied mortal, with a clean white apron, and deep-set dark-eyes: frizzled grey hair around his ears. It was not unusual for mortal men and women to own inns in immortal territories, but it was not exactly common either. Immortals that opened inns and taverns usually kept their businesses for hundreds of years. They escaped through a back room, that must've had an exit door, as he noticed them running through the thick snow, moments after.

Adem lifted his gaze to regard the dark auras around three of the seven men who stood facing him. The thick muscled mortal who stood closest to him, had a face that looked like it'd been kicked by a mule, a dozen times or more, potato shaped, with deep set eyes, rimmed with bruise like dark rings, though Adem guessed they were signs of lack of sleep. That one had the aura, along with a skinny Nordic-blood with cold blue eyes and another aged mortal with a confused look to the burning in his eyes. They all had that familiar flame in their eyes, the first signs of madness. The one closest to him was called Bolkred, as the blue-eyed Nordic said to him, 'Tell him who we are, Bolkred!' There was a shrill sound to that voice, dangerous and wicked. It sent a cold shiver down Adem's spine, as he regarded that flare of menace in those cold blue eyes. He guessed that one was possessed. His name was Elahahn, as Bolkred replied, 'I'll tell him, Elahahn. I'll tell him for sure!'

Adem wasn't certain if Bolkred was possessed, or just a puppet for Elahahn, but Bolkred was mad, there could be no question about that when Adem saw the hostile look in his eyes that also appeared cross-eyed and uncertain of himself. They say it takes one to know one, and to Adem's perceptions, this Bolkred was quite clearly insane! He lunged at Adem over his table as he spoke; gesturing with his right hand while his left remained behind his back in a gentlemanly fashion, but his words and his eyes explained the extent of the corruption upon his mind and soul. 'I see you are Torvellen, though a short one at that! Was your mother a florist?' The way he phrased the two sentences together suggested that they made any sense at all when spoken one after the other. Adem was about to suggest that he did not see how the two sentences related to one another when he thought better of it and allowed Bolkred to continue. 'Did your father always walk with coppers in his boots? A stone's throw is only two leagues if you run the whole way. Have you been to the Waltzing Duckling of late?' That last question made sense to Adem. He had been to the Waltzing Duckling earlier this week. Of course, he already knew these men were Shadowsouled who had followed his trail. They would be under the command of higher ranking Shadowsouled, perhaps going up a ladder as high as one of the Hex-Warlords. He gave no response. Elahahn hissed as he shouted, 'He is the one for certain! Keep at him, Bolkred!' Bolkred glanced at the wall to his right as if it had spoken to him—while Elahahn stood talking to his left—then he nodded and continued, saying, 'You have travelled a lot lately. Are you familiar with the mating rituals of flying gropers? Have you ever been to Domrelle? Are your socks green or made of wheat?' It seemed to Adem that Bolkred was on the right track, he just had trouble keeping those odd questions out of his interrogation.

Adem realised that at first—when Adem failed to see how the first two sentences correlated—Bolkred had been meaning to ask whether Adem's Torvellen disguise had had a mortal mother but seemed to get confused at the end of sentences and replaced the word mortal with florist. Other times he seemed to just babble incoherently or spout local sayings, but it was becoming clear these men had followed him since Adem bought the new clothes in Domrelle. At that town and also at the Waltzing Duckling, Adem had asked various men about the rumours of puppet masters leading Torvellen armies as well as in the capital. It was all to lead assassins such as these men right to him.

Elahahn hissed again in that high-pitched tone that was very unusual for an immortal male, saying, 'You're getting your words mixed up again, Bolkred!' Then the blue-eyed immortal regarded Adem as he said, 'Do you know why we let him lead? It is because he is the strongest amongst us!' Adem knew that was the truth, despite being spoken by a man possessed by an evil spirit. Bolkred was the strongest. Adem could sense that Bolkred was almost as powerful as himself in Angel-Magic. Adem grinned to acknowledge Elahahn's words. That brought a stunned look to Elahahn's face, and he shouted, 'Shield-Trap him!'

Shield-Traps of Angel-Magic— both Fire-and-Air-Magic—snapped tight around Adem, cutting him off from teron. Bolkred had formed the Shield-Spell, and he was linked with Elahahn and the other mortal with the dark aura. That third man was now repeatedly turning his head to one side, a full right-hand twist of his neck and then back again to staring straight ahead, then repeated, then back again. Adem scoffed at the extent of the man's symptoms, he knew this man was also not showing signs of possession, he was simply mad to the point of losing control of his motor functions. Of the other four, there was no aura, despite the dangerous glow to their eyes that showed madness was rife in every one of them. The youngest was a dark-haired mortal no older than nineteen, of a height with Adem with concern evident behind that dangerous dark-eyed glow. The boy spoke up, saying, 'He is surely the one we're looking for. Shouldn't we report back to—'

'Don't utter his name!' Elahahn snapped. 'I will skin you alive if you speak again, Hurik! Release your Angel-Magic and wait for my commands!' Hurik shrugged his shoulders, and the fire went out of his eyes as he released his hold on teron. He then appeared to Adem to be the least mad of them all. It gave him a new theory, that these possession spirits used groups of Alit'aren or Seidr'tera like these men as a group of potential hosts, inhabiting the body of the most susceptible, and influencing others to follow him, all the while making them more ill by ordering them to wield Angel-Magic on his command. He realised this Hurik might be a rebel of the decree, but he was perhaps not evil at all, and perhaps only half mad at most. These thoughts flickered through Adem's mind as he sat with a tense frown, feeling the Shield-Traps that held Angel-Magic out of his reach.

Seconds passed before Bolkred lunged forwards again, saying, 'So, you are a wielder also! I did not sense it in you at first. This suggests you have special knowledge in teron. Are you an Aldebrand, I wonder, or a Seidr'tera, or perhaps you are even an Alit'aren? Tell me, do you like to wear your boots while sitting in porridge? Have you been inquiring about the colour of my socks?' Adem guessed Bolkred had meant to ask if Adem had been inquiring about the rumours of Shadowsouled in Torvis, especially about those highest up the chain of command. Elahahn hissed impatiently again, 'Your words, Bolkred! You're getting your words mixed up again! Ask him the most important question?' Bolkred focused on the right wall again as if it were the speaker and nodded his agreement before he continued, asking; 'Are you an agent of the Sons of Odin?' Adem grinned like a sly wolf, before he casually replied, 'Yes.'

Elahahn grinned also, rubbing his hands together in prayer position before he began to speak in a deep and powerful voice, only his lips did not move at all the entire time the words emanated from his form. Adem realised it must've been the possessing spirit talking. The words amplified throughout the room and brought an even colder shiver down his spine. Before he spoke, Elahahn tossed a palm sized object that glinted gold, towards a shadowed corner. Adem realised too late that it was a Jhin-Tap.

We await you, my master. We have found the one you are searching for.

The last light of the sun had slid below the hills over an hour before the men entered the room, and the candlelight of the common room flared, and the fire on the hearth blossomed with a golden-orange fluorescence, as a dark cloaked figure emerged from the shadows, at the back of the room where the Jhin-Tap had landed. The figure was tall, and hooded, with darkness within the cowl. Adem felt the evil presence of the Souljhin the moment it appeared, obviously entering the inn through the shadows after its summoning, possibly travelling from a great distance via the unusual teleportation method these creatures had mastered long ago. The sense of evil that radiated from the Souljhin was moderate, much stronger than the presence of the Ghosts of Bright, but nothing compared to a High-Servant exuding at full force. Still, that reminder of his youth at Bright always added to Adem's ill health, and always filled him with dread he could not control. His hands began to tremble on the tabletop, as his mouth turned down in a grimace.

The Souljhin removed its hood, drawing back the dark shadow cloth to reveal the pasty white skin and bald scabbed scalp of their kind, pointed ears similar to immortals though larger and ribbed like batwings. Though, it was the eyes that stared around that hooked beak of a nose that were always so disconcerting to Adem's nerves, large black seeds that reflected the light, shining orbs of pure malevolence, bloodlust and hatred. The creature hissed as it slithered towards the table, remaining close to the front of the bar to Adem's left. The dark cloak blended with the shadows around the wood and its scaled ebony armour also glowed with an unnatural reflection, like oiled and lacquered metallic stone. A silver human skull was emblazoned upon its thick dark leather belt buckle, where its tainted blade hung in a black scabbard, the same insignia for the red leather-coiled hilt and steel cross-guard.

The Souljhin was not what Adem was expecting, and the surprise of its appearance made him more than nervous. Shield-Trapped, Adem could not summon his Battle Angels, and the speed of a Souljhin at crossing that space between them and its known reputation as a swordsman made for an uncomfortable situation. The Shield-Spells were of no concern for him, he could still wield his other form of magic that did not require teron and only required some ki'mera to fuel his attacks. But that Souljhin really made his blood feel cold as ice. Its evil force was colder than the bones of winter; blazing like the darkest fires of the soul.

He needed a distraction, just to buy him a few moments. He decided to ask God for help, as he spoke up, saying, '"The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, shining ever brighter till the full light of day.''' That was a Bible quote, Proverbs 4, 18. The quote was something Carl had tutored Adem on during the first month of winter before he abandoned his friends. Elahahn wore a puzzled frown, and the Souljhin froze as if uncertain. Adem liked to think the words were perplexing to the demon-man and the possession spirit. Bolkred lunged forwards again with an inward cross-eyed gaze as he said in a deep tone, 'A soothsayer also! That is a surprise! Do you have many such sayings? A cup of stones is like a loaf of bread from your enemies. A sugared dumpling is like the lies of a friend. Will you sell me your boots for my morning tea?' Adem thought those first two sounded like genuine sayings, so he used the man's curiosity to spout another Bible quote. He thought the metaphorical style of Proverbs would suit Bolkred's interest in such sayings, so he quoted Proverbs 3, 13, saying, '"Blessed is the man who finds wisdom, the man who gains understanding, for she is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold.''' Then he quoted Matthew 7, 6, almost shouting, '"Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs.'' The Souljhin hissed impatiently, saying, 'He talks in riddles. He must be mad. Do not indulge him Bolkred!'

But Bolkred was intrigued, and he responded, saying, 'A veritable prophet of words and wise sayings! Do you know the one about the three mules, or the one concerning the darning of my underpants? Did you buy that coat in Domrelle?'

'We already know he is the one!' Elahahn hissed. 'Keep him Shield-Trapped. We will take him for further questioning.'

Adem gave another quote, Proverbs, 3, 15. It made him think of Jean as he said, '"She is more precious than rubies, nothing you desire can compare with her.''' It made his heart ache over his betrayal with Isabelle. Of course, that was taking the quote out of context, as Carl had suggested the word 'she' referred to 'wisdom.' Then as Bolkred mused over the worth of that statement Adem looked to Hurik and said, 'You look like a good kid. I'll give you to the count of three to get out of here if you want to live. Head for Rutheldor or Korhad or Orodhel and stay with those you can trust. Obey the decree and try to stay sane. You can make it kid. I have faith in you.' The Souljhin hissed with fury and disbelief, saying, 'What did you say? He's not mad, he's a—'

The Souljhin clutched the hilt of its blade as a series of clanging sounds were heard from the kitchen. Adem began to grin again.

A great emerald lizard the size of a lion crashed through the kitchen door behind the bar, launching onto the bar and raising blue ribbed wings as its front claws reached out to grasp hold of the Souljhin by the shoulders, pulling it backwards to bite off the pasty white skull with its long crocodile teeth and fangs. Shienden'kroxus had grown a lot over these past few months, and the dragon roared at the Alit'aren with dark blood dripping from its jaws as the Souljhin body collapsed to the floor. Adem looked to Hurik and said, 'One!'

The boy raced through the common room towards the door.

Elahahn shrieked at the top of his lungs, 'It's him! Kill him!' Bolkred gestured as if to begin the spell that he intended to use to burn Adem to a crisp, but at that moment Adem locked Shield-Traps down around the six men, Shield-Spells not of Angel-Magic, yet they cut the wielders off from teron just as effectively. It was his new gift that he used to do this, and Elahahn shrieked again when he realised his fate. Then he looked to Bolkred as he said, 'I have another quote for you to think about.' This one was Proverbs, 2, 12. '"Wisdom will save you from the ways of wicked men, from men whose words are perverse, who leave the straight paths to walk in dark ways, who delight in doing wrong and rejoice in the perverseness of evil, whose paths are crooked and who are devious in their ways.'''

Bolkred's eyes rolled in their sockets as he stood frozen by the Shield-Trap, before he replied with a confounded expression, 'But I live to serve the All-Father!'

Adem fought down the urge to scream his response, though he spoke through clenched teeth, 'The Souljhin knew you by name, Bolkred. You are a madman on an evil path. You and yours will "receive your reward in full.''' That last half quote was from a number of passages in Matthew, including Matthew, 6, 2. It referred to hypocrites who tried to show off their good nature, but Adem considered himself a hypocrite as Matthew 5, 44, says, 'Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven.'

Or Sons of Odin, Adem thought to himself reluctantly.

With the shields maintained he could possibly walk away, but if one of them got free while his back was turned ... it always seemed that death was the only choice for him. Adem looked at Elahahn as he spoke in a soft but dangerous way, asking, 'Will you feel pain when your host dies? I hope so.' Elahahn's eyes went wide with fear. He guessed these possession spirits would not like being identified. 'I know you're the only one who will live to tell the tale, so I give you a message. Tell your master that Adem Highlander sends his regards.' He could pray for their souls later. Shienden coughed up a trail of smoke and a flickering of orange light rose from his tongue, then the dragon roared as he suddenly unleashed blasts of flames that set the entire room ablaze from wall to wall.

***

Hurik was listening to the roar of that creature inside the inn. Whatever it was, it was making the horses whinny and buck as they pulled against their reins. Then he heard it roar again as the windows burst with golden-orange flames, and the screams of his companions filled his ears. He knew they were dying in there! He was trying to calm his dark colt and lead it away from the flames, but he knew he should free the other horses first. Who was that Torvellen? How had he overpowered six Alit'aren? Hurik couldn't remember parts of their journey in pursuit of the man. At first, he'd joined the group and fled the city because he wanted to join the rebels at Orodhel. Elahahn had promised they would get there, eventually, but he kept changing the mission to pursuing this Torvellen who was reportedly asking too many questions. Hurik had never trusted Elahahn, but he put his faith in the man's leadership, and Bolkred, as they were both strong in Angel-Magic, and both men were willing to lead him to a place where he would not be restricted in his wielding of teron. But Elahahn had summoned a Souljhin! Hurik could not believe he had not sensed the evil presence of the creature until after that lizard beast had bitten off its skull. The evil resonance of the Souljhin had felt like ... sunlight on the soul. He must've been out of his mind to not realise it was one of his sworn enemies standing in the same room.

He was untying the last of the reins, and the muscular altherin stallion—Elahahn's horse—was bolting from the burning inn, when the great dark beast, with huge wings like a bat, burst through the roof of flames, and into the starlit sky, breathing a trail of orange flames, to reveal its lizard shaped form. He realised me must be looking at a dragon! Then the Torvellen came marching out of the inn, his blue coat and boots and leather trousers untouched by the flames that surrounded him, some kind of shield was protecting the man, though he was not wielding Angel-Magic! His face was changed though, he was not Torvellen. He was a mortal! Hurik stared at those hard features, clear blue eyes with a burning darkness within, an angular jaw, long face and dark hair tied in a braid with a ginger moustache and dark brown goatee. He then realised that he knew this man. It was Adem Highlander, the Dragon Son of Odin!

The dragon roared again as it circled the skies above, its wings illuminated by the glow of the blazing building. Smoke billowed into the air above the burning rooftop, and the building was starting to collapse as heavy timber beams crashed to the floors within. 'Thank you, for sparing my life, Adem Highlander,' Hurik said with fist pressed to heart in salute. Highlander stared at Hurik's face with scrutiny, before he said, 'You don't look well. Your friend Elahahn was possessed by an evil spirit. It will latch onto you if you do not receive treatment immediately. May I?' Highlander gestured to Hurik's skull, and he realised the man was offering wield Healing-Magic on him. Hurik nodded, bowing his head towards the Blue Water Dragon, and felt the ice-cold rush of Angel-Magic flow through his flesh and bones, drenching his spirit! When he released his hold, Hurik felt refreshed, and the darkness that had gripped his soul had subsided, for now. Memories flashed through his mind of his childhood, his father's face, his mother's smile and warm hugs. He suddenly longed for the taste of a hot meal, a warm apple cider and a fire to dry his clothes. He was human again, he was sane.

Highlander stared at him with a grimace as he said hurriedly, 'Get on your horse, ride like the wind and don't look back. Don't wield unless you need to create shields to protect yourself from now until you reach Orodhel. Ask to speak to Carl Wilder, tell them I sent you, and tell him your story. He needs to hear it. Now go!' Highlander turned and started to walk away into the darkness. Hurik climbed into his saddle and looked to the blazing building for another moment, then booted his heels into the colt's flanks and started off as fast as the horse could bolt.

Chapter 11

Evidence of Evil

Carl sat in the dark cell under the illumination of a bulb of blue flame, that revealed the troubled face of a man he had under interrogation. He was starting with those amongst the rebels who'd recently been placed under arrest, for losing control of their senses, and attacking their peers without provocation. The dark-eyed aged mortal he was studying—Tuhahk was his name—had taken off the right arm of a fellow Alit'aren, before he was Shield-Trapped and taken into custody. None of the other Alit'aren were allowed wield Healing-Magic on the wounded man, though they were able to carry him to an Ael Tarael in time to save him from dying of blood loss. Lez was the name of the mortal whose arm now ended in a stump close to where his wrist should be.

Four Alit'aren stood guarding Tuhahk outside the cell bars, all in their black coats, the two mortals in the group often glaring with concern at Carl and his subject. Carl wanted to study the very sick patients first, those that were soon to be prevented from ever wielding Angel-Magic again, to get an idea about this theory of demon spirits inhabiting the souls of madmen. Possession was a word and concept Carl was familiar with, though finding evidence of evil in one of these men would certainly be alarming. 'What is your name?' It was the fourth time Carl had asked that question, and again the man gave the right response, stating his name through clenched teeth with a harsh glare, as if he were roasting within his skin. 'Where were you born?' Again, Tuhahk named the town of his birth, a small village north of Calicos named Hivestoll. Carl had visited the village, during his recruitment of soldiers for the mission in the Southlands. He recalled nothing odd in particular about the people there; except perhaps only the fact that they all showed signs of caution towards any man wearing Alit'aren black. That was common everywhere these days of course. Carl continued his questions, a series of exercises to help him identify any foreign entity residing in this particularly ill case study. 'What was your mother's name?'

'I have no Mother!' The man spat the words with a twisted scowl. Every other time, Tuhahk had answered plainly that his mother's name was Renatae. This time, he spoke in a high-pitched tone, that was disturbing to hear. He sounded cold, deceptive and wicked. 'My Father is the Shadow!' That made Carl's skin prickle, a cold shiver running down his spine, as he saw a greater emotion of malice in those dark eyes, that also burnt with the sure signs of a man in the grip of madness. Carl could perceive the two personalities at work in this man, the madman and the demon. He was clearly possessed; Carl had deduced that the rumours were true before examining this patient, but he had seen little proof until now. Even a madman would not speak such words unless he was controlled by a power stronger than his own will.

'What is your name?' Carl asked in a calm tone, his eyes drilling into the dark glare of his patient.

'My name is Eternal Suffering; bloodshed, broken bones and searing flesh! I am the Watcher in the Shadows, the Claw that rips Hearts from chests. I am now, I have always been, and I shall forever be the Enemy of Men.'

That was the beginning of the game Carl would play against this demon. The creature would try to avoid giving up its name, and Carl hoped that if he could gain its true name, he may have the strength to exorcise this demon through the Power of Christ. He still had doubts of the extent of Christ's Power in this realm, though he would make the attempt to see if it was possible. 'What is your name, demon?' The possessed man began to bark and growl at being named as a demon. The Shield-Spell held the figure tightly bound with invisible wards of Air-Magic, but the man struggled with a ferocious snarl twisting his lips, as his face became red: lines bulging out the sides of his neck—

Suddenly Carl became aware of Adem, as if his friend had stopped blocking the sense between them for the moments that he allowed a message to be sent via their Battle Angels. Carl sensed that Adem was on the verge of madness, he sensed his tension, his distrust, and that he was also in the midst of a battle, fighting all alone!

I'm losing a part of myself, Carl. I can't feel anymore. There is no light in me anymore, only darkness there, but I feel nothing.

Carl took this message very seriously, more so than the fact that Adem was fighting on his own. If he began to lose all sense of feeling in his soul, Carl believed that Adem would become even more dangerous. Carl began to say a silent prayer for his friend, asking God to give Adem distinct pain in his heart, just enough to remind Adem what it felt like, enough to keep him in control. He did not send any word of this through his Battle Angels, but he asked God to; Make him feel it now!

He continued to focus on this prayer while his gaze returned to the possessed man in front of him. 'What is your name?' Tuhahk squirmed in his chair with teeth gnashing as Carl began to wield subtle spells within the flesh of the man, seeking out the demon within while trying to overpower it.

'I am the Hand that chokes his Brother in the Night,' Tuhahk cried, 'the Blade that Cuts when the lights go out! I am the Soul of Darkness, my name inspires terror, and I am the Tongue of Deception! I will cut out your heart and feast on your blood!' Carl blinked at that last comment, and at the same time allowed the possessed man to feel pain through the spells he sent through his body, testing to see whether it also caused pain to the demon inside of him. The response of the man suggested this idea was working, as Tuhahk began to groan and grind his teeth, as his hands clawed at the Air-Magic that held him tightly bound. 'You cannot win, Son of Odin! If you cast me out of this body, I will take another, as will all of my kind, again and again, causing chaos in your ranks! There is no hope for you!'

Carl considered his one hope would be finding a fast and effective way to exorcise these demons. It might save his life and the lives of his friends if he was successful. Adem was shut off from his senses once more, but Carl was certain his prayer would work. He sent a message to his friend via Math Mathonwy. You can't fight all alone! You need to stay sane, Adem. Listen to your heart.

***

Adem cast a ball of blue flame that illuminated the dark night like a small star; it flew through the air to punch through the dark armour of a Boli-Kuldr with a ram's skull. The beast made horrible sounds similar to a goat as blue lightning engulfed its form, shuddering as it fell to its knees then collapsed face down in the snow. He'd taken down over twenty of the beasts that way so far, using teron to create the Fire-Magic, as he found those attacks were quite effective and Angel-Magic was therefore required to keep himself alive in this battle. Summoning a pair of Golden Soldiers with laser cannon arms would cut down demons this size even faster, but the amount of ki'mera needed to fuel even two Soldiers for the duration of this battle would leave him vulnerable to further attacks.

His enemies had managed to bring a large force of demons, deep northwest of Tarvel, most likely through a Travelling Gate, and he'd been pursued for over an hour as he trudged through thick snow under the moonlight. He was holding back a cold sweat, his Alit'aren meditation techniques sufficing for now to keep him dry and reasonably calm. One thing that had changed since he sent a message to Carl; was that he had suddenly felt sharp and precise pain in his heart—though he would still call it a good pain—that was building now and flowing through him in waves that kept him from going over the edge into madness.

He'd sent the message to Carl about having no feeling in his heart, because he knew his friend would pray to try to heal that ill. Being without Healer-Magic for so long and having to wield so often was taking its toll on his psyche. The corruption on teron seemed to be soaking into his bones! It was a foul shadow smothering the illumination of Angel-Magic. It filled his soul with darkness. Adem perceived this was the onset of evil.

Without being told by Carl, Adem was still certain his friend had prayed for him and asked God to put that pain in his heart, to remind him to feel and to keep him from losing his mind. Adem knew this must be the truth of it, and he realised again—as he had that night at Bright—that Carl had great strength in his connection to God. The fact that Adem was feeling that pain so distinctly and so suddenly after sending that message to Carl, was proof of a kind of miracle that was even more incredible than the kigare connection they shared.

Adem gestured towards a dark armoured figure lunging from the shadows of a copse. A bar of red light launched from his fist to strike the bull horned beast; its body burst into flames. Two more were charging up behind him, he turned and gestured towards them in a sweeping motion, this time using his Matter-Manipulation Magic. Beams of light like horizontal slanting blades glowed within their flesh; the creatures fell with severed skulls in spurts of dark blood, torso and limbs collapsed like a doll torn to shreds.

He could have left this place and found safety in other lands where his enemies were not able to close their net in around him, but this was all a part of his plans. Overhead Shienden roared as he swooped over the fields, unleashing streams of golden-orange fire as dozens of Boli-Kuldr fell screaming in pillars of flames. A crimson armoured Nymloc charged forwards on all fours like a dark hound with razor sharp claws, barking savagely as it approached. Adem gestured towards the creature and it instantly blazed with emerald fire, screaming as it burnt until the armour fell to the snow; green embers floating in the wind. A Souljhin charged from the shadows on a tall dark horse—the moonlight revealing dark orbs glaring from the hooded cloak—Adem whipped his right arm across like a sweeping blade as the Shadow Rider fell in two halves with a splatter of blood, although there had been over ten feet distance between his gesture and the slaughtered figure. He preferred matter manipulation to take down Souljhin, as they were usually impervious to most Fire-Magic when wielding teron. He gestured again to send a red flare to startle the Jinn-Steed. The beast stamped its hooves then bolted into the shadows.

Adem heard a message from Carl, transferred to Adem's mind via Arawn; You can't fight all alone! You need to stay sane, Adem. Listen to your heart.

Adem tried to block out the voice, but the ache in his heart increased after hearing those words. He began to feel very heavy, as if his arms were made of stone. He wondered if that was also a part of Carl's Power, or whether he was just starting to tire. He gestured towards two ram skulled beasts; twin bolts of lightning launched from his fists to strike their thick muscular forms, ripping holes through scaled breastplates; they collapsed with hollow groans. Their net was closing too tightly, so he created a Portal-Spell in the air as he summoned Shienden from the skies. The emerald dragon flew through the Portal-Magic moments before Adem leapt after him to land further north. They already knew who they were chasing; he did not need to hide his abilities any further.

He landed on a large hillside leading down towards a dark flowing river to the north. Scattered trees made dark shapes in the distance and along the water's edge. Guttural cries filled the air as hordes of Boli-Kuldr appeared further north and to the east. Shienden unleashed a wall of flames upon the northern demons, dark bodies suddenly bathed in golden light! As he heard their death screams, Adem reminded himself that these creatures were all victims of Jinn-Fendinn. All pawns in his game!

But then he wondered; was this just a part of the corruption plaguing his mind? For if he felt compassion for evil, was he not also becoming evil? No! His empathy for these creatures would be something to hold on to when his mind began to slip. It was what defined him as a good person. He wanted to believe that was the truth. He gestured to the east and a dozen dark-armoured figures burst into crimson flames! Their screams sounded all too human for his nerves to handle! How many deaths would weigh upon his soul before this game was ended?

***

Jean and Terese were making their way to one of the high tower lookouts with Isabelle in tow. Elarja and Arig marched ahead of them with four Ael Tarael in front and seven close- behind as well as Lydia and Elmira and their husbands. Terese was content to trust these particular men who were a part of their entourage, but she was reluctant to allow any others to get close to Jean or Isabelle—

A chilling howl started up again as they ascended the winding staircase. They had heard those wolf cries many times during their journey to the watchtower, after an Aldebrand reported to Terese that a number of very large Shadowspawn had been spotted on the fields surrounding the city walls. The description of enormous black wolves was more than concerning, as they were either werewolves who'd travelled from the Southlands or they were something much worse. Elarja seemed to be fearful of the latter.

The Time Strider had been greatly concerned about the rift in the timelines since his return to Kismeria. His theory suggested these wolves may be creatures from the ancient past that had somehow made it through one of those rifts. Elarja cautioned her on this possibility as they neared the lookout, stating that their howls sounded very much like his memory of Demonwolves. 'They are very hard to destroy with Angel-Magic,' Elarja stated. 'Even Battle Angels will struggle to defeat them before their ki'mera reserves are depleted.'

Jean reached the lookout, a wide grey stone fortress in the sky overlooking the fields beyond the city walls. They'd made their way to the outer wall on horseback, after Jean sent a summoning message to Carl, Wil and Hayley via her Battle Angels. She could have used one of those newly discovered Portal-Spells through space to reach her destination in short order; however, Jean was still reluctant to use Angel-Magic unless the matter was extremely urgent. The soldier reported that the creatures were just patrolling the fields and that there were no civilians or warriors out there at any risk, so she took the long way to conserve her ki'mera and also avoid touching terael.

Her blood ran cold as her eyes fell upon one of the dark shapes on the moonlit field. The first she saw was twice the size of any werewolf according to Tanriel who also assured her that these were indeed Demonwolves! Jean had her sword hilt rising above her shoulder and her bow across her back in the leather case, wearing a dark green coat that hung below her hips, thick blue woollen stockings and brown leather boots. It was similar to Terese's usual outfits, though of late the former Hero of Will seemed to be dressing up a little. Jean wondered at the source of that change of heart. Is she attracted to Elarja?

Her focus held the crouched dark shape with blood red eyes that glowed in its shadowed skull. It raised its wolf maw to howl at the silvered moon, Elarja's shoulders sagging as he realised the identity of the beast. 'My worst fears are confirmed,' Elarja said, sounding hollow. 'The rift has reached the real world. This could be just the beginning of our troubles.' Jean sent another message to Carl and Wil. This is urgent! Come to me immediately!

She made her location clear to them via Tanriel and Anwen, and moments later the two men appeared as they stepped out through one of those glowing warps in the air—both in Alit'aren black—with Hayley close behind, wearing a blue silk gown and nursing her baby girl in her arms. Enserah was wrapped in a red silk blanket with a blue green woollen suit with hood and socks attached. The howling of the creatures seemed to disturb the child's countenance, though she did not start to wail.

Carl had his crimson spear in hand, extended to full length, and Wil also gripped his golden double-bladed axe. Their expressions were troubled as they gazed out at the dark forms crouching there. It was likely they were receiving word from their Battle Angels about the history of the creatures. Hayley showed greater concern for Enserah as she bent her head over the child and whispered softly to her. The woman would have to get used to leaving the child in the care of nurses and guards if she was to be of much use. Of course, her Battle Angel could still fight while Hayley held Enserah in her arms.

'We cannot fight them,' Elarja almost spat the words. 'I spot at least twelve of those creatures out there, and there could be more. Even one is enough to overpower a host of Carl's Shadow Hounds.'

'So, what do we do then?' Jean asked, as she was reminded of how keen immortal sight can be. She could only see three of the beasts.

'I fear we must wait for Adem Highlander to return to us,' Elarja said with a troubled gaze as he looked upon the three that were now standing together in the snow; their howls were horrific. 'Only Adem's new ability could have an impact against these creatures; or perhaps if Serock were here—'

'Serock has betrayed us!' Jean exclaimed. She still felt like a fool to have trusted that evil soul. He had surely been a part of some great plot of Fendinn's to win their trust. Why had he not returned to fulfil that aim? She felt confident that the man was still wicked.

'That remains to be proven,' Elarja contested. 'I would be the first to agree with you in regard to that man; however, it is possible he has been in some way delayed in his return to us.'

'What reasons do you have to hold on to such hopes?' Jean asked.

'Just a feeling I have. I don't think he would have abandoned us without good reason.'

'He's been gone for months regardless of the reason,' Wil said. 'We can't do anything about Serock. We must summon Adem back to us. I'm trying to reach him now, but he's blocking me, as he has done ever since he left us.'

'I can reach him if need be,' Carl said with a cautious expression. Jean still wondered about their secret communications. 'It will take some time for him to come to his senses, however. He's nearly lost to us completely, lost and alone. I sense that he is at the edge of madness. He needs Healing-Magic; before he becomes a vessel for one of those possession demons. I fear his enemies may be planning just such a tactic for him.'

'So, you are certain these possession spirits are real then?' Elarja asked with a note of intrigue.

'I was always sure they existed, in this world and our own. I have proof now. Adem is in great danger if he cannot be brought back from the brink of insanity.'

'Then we must work out where he is and get to him now!' Jean shouted in outrage. 'How could you allow the situation to become this desperate without informing me of the danger he's in?'

'His mission was apparently very important,' Carl replied with a tone of guilt. 'I've tried in my own way to make him realise that he can't win this battle on his own, but he keeps blocking, and I can never know for certain where he is. My other concern is if we appear via Portal-Magic close to where he is now, he might think we are one of the Hex-Warlords, and he could strike us all down before he realises that it's his friends trying to rescue him.'

'We must make him realise!' Jean cried. 'Tell your big bully Battle Angels to find out exactly where his is right now! Math and Dis Pater are closest to Arawn; they can get through to that big lug! Get it done!'

Suddenly the air was filled with bloodthirsty cries, it sounded like all of them were howling at once until their presence was washing over them like a corrupt vapour; distinct waves of evil resonating from the creatures. It was like the Souljhin, only much more powerful to be detected over such a great distance. She looked again to the moonlit fields to see thirteen of the beasts standing in a line, all of them crouching on all fours as they wailed like the darkest of nightmares; pure evil incarnate!

Come back to us, Adem! I'm lost without you!

Chapter 12

The Bait is Set

Adem leapt through the air, climbing over twelve feet off the ground and travelling fifteen feet before landing on the soft snow and leaping again. He'd used this ability to gain some ground as he attempted to move out of the clutches of the main horde of demons this far north of Tarvel. After over an hour of using this jump technique, he was starting to sweat a little, but the physical endurance required to perform this newly adapted skill was all a part of his ongoing training to become a true Alit'aren. The real problem was that he was slipping into symptoms of madness once again. Carl's rescue prayer had only worked for that short time, and even though the pain endured in his heart, he became immune to its call.

Shienden roared while circling the sky above. It was a warning that the dragon had spotted enemies.

Adem saw dark armoured beasts rushing for him through the snow. He gestured towards the three Boli-Kuldr with a sweeping arc of his right hand, the three figures collapsed as dark blood flooded the moonlit snow. He leapt again, this time travelling over twenty feet across the mostly flattened landscape, besides an occasional rise or fall of sloping hillsides, with scattered pine or oak trees. This was mostly farmland, these fields were used for grazing, and he intentionally avoided moving towards the crop fields which would lead demons close to farmhouses. He knew there would be victims taken from an invasion of this scale, however. He tried to tell himself that he could not save them all. But then he realised, if he had not gone off on this mission, these demons might never have been brought to these lands. Well, perhaps that was a naive notion, as the Hex-Warlords would work their plans no matter what choices he made.

At least twenty tall Boli-Kuldr moved towards him from the northwest. Shienden swooped down out of the sky and scorched the demons in waves of golden-orange flames! Adem took out the smaller groups, and Shienden was always there to attack when a larger force appeared. Adem's new concern was that the Hex-Warlords might begin to target the dragon. Shienden was effective for attacking such forces from the sky, but if an adept enemy began to strike back, the little dragon may not be satisfactorily equipped to protect himself—

A warp of Air-Magic brought a cloaked shadow figure into view to his right, as crimson Fire-Magic lanced towards him like a giant glowing blade. He used his thought to create a Shield-Sphere in time to block the attack, not a Shield-Spell of teron, but just as effective using his matter manipulation technique. Adem gestured, and a Shield-Trap formed around the Hex-Warlord, he could feel it as Angel-Magic was cut off from the figure. The Shield-Trap also held the man where he stood, Adem's ability with Shield-Spells had increased immensely during the time he'd spent with Shienden. Adem leapt for the figure, wielding teron this time as Blades of Odin flew from his fists to strike the Hex-Warlord. The blast sent the cloaked shadow flying off into the darkness! The attack would merely wound his enemy however, and the Spear of Odin was still something Adem couldn't achieve when wielding teron. He'd used his matter manipulation to create an emulation of the Spear when he attacked Calliach. The only times he had been able to create Odin's Spear had been the result of a freakish surge in Angel-Magic, possibly due to the desperation he felt from being caught in such vulnerable circumstances.

Another bolt of crimson flame flew towards him, this time from the west, when the High-Servant had been sent flying to the east. He knew this was the same High-Servant however, and his Shield-Sphere had still been formed, although it drained his ki'mera each time he blocked such strikes. A Boli-Kuldr horde ploughed towards him from the north, and more from the southwest. Shienden swooped upon the northern force; setting dozens alight, though there were over a hundred of the demons in that group, and the dragon circled round for a second attempt. Suddenly the High-Servant appeared in front of Adem through a warp of Air-Magic, the shining crimson mask of the figure told him this was most likely Arkori Bloodfiend!

This was the first time Adem had encountered this Hex-Warlord, and Arawn informed him to be extra alert when facing this one. Suddenly, a message got through to him from Jean, despite his blocking.

Come back to us, Adem! I'm lost without you!

The shock of those words nearly made him lose his footing, as Arkori raised his dark blade that glowed with crimson fire, striking down on Adem's Shield-Spell—Adem had caught Arkori by surprise with the first Shield-Trap, now the High-Servant was able to resist and move freely—as Adem shouted, 'Arawn!'

Fire Pythons exploded around his Shield-Sphere, twisting around his front in a maze of blue light, the snakes snapping at a Shield-Spell that now protected Arkori. Adem could not fight a High-Servant with the sword; he needed Arawn for this task. The ten feet tall shadow rose behind Arkori, silver-skull mask blazing with caverns of golden light within the eye sockets; Arawn was a spectre of nightmares! A red flare struck the side of Arkori's Shield-Sphere; Arawn's giant crimson blade. The impact sent sparks flying off the invisible ward, Arawn hacking to shift the High-Servant from his attack position. During these brief moments Arkori's blade had been trapped in the jaws of one those Fire Pythons that served as Adem's Shield-Spell.

Adem used the distraction to form Portal-Magic behind his body, leaping back and through to land ten feet to the west, where he launched two more Blades of Odin from his fists. The twin blades of blue fire struck Arkori's Shield-Sphere, and the High-Servant was sent flying again with Arawn in pursuit.

Adem could now also sense many messages being sent via his friends' Battle Angels. Llew Llaw Gyffes confirmed that Demonwolves had made it through a time rift! Then he sensed that his friends were travelling towards him, moving from the Borderlands to somewhere close to his location in a single step. He knew they were using Portal-Spells, but they must've landed some distance away to give him warning that they were approaching. He heard a message from Jean via Tanriel.

We're coming to rescue you!

Adem turned to face the horde approaching from the southwest. He saw now that dozens more had caught up behind the first wave while he was distracted. Boli-Kuldr were very fast runners, even in snow this thick. He decided there were too many for him to handle on his own. He glanced to the north to see Shienden still sweeping the northern demons with his Dragonfire. The Elemental Magic of dragons was more powerful than the fires of Battle Angels, stripping flesh from demon bones to leave piles of ash. Even Boli-Kuldr could be reduced to dust in a matter of seconds.

Adem shouted, 'Balor!' as the ten feet tall bearded spirit in blue armour charged for the line of Boli-Kuldr, wielding his massive axe of blue flames that he swung to cleave through dark armour and demon flesh! Adem looked to the southeast and saw another bulk of demons charging towards him. He shouted, 'Llew Llaw Gyffes!' and the twelve feet tall man, of blue burning muscle, and golden scaled armour, soared towards those demons on wings of blue light! The massive long horns that stuck out either side of his helmet, were pulsing with a crimson glow, as the Battle Angel struck at the demon wedge with his burning mauve blade. The demons scattered under the force of those assaults, their lines buckled: the creatures wailed with terror, cut to pieces in sprays of dark blood!

He sent a reply to Carl, Wil and Jean via their Battle Angels.

It's too dangerous! Get out of here!

He heard Jean's reply via Tanriel to Arawn.

We need your help, Adem! We can't defeat the Demonwolves without you! We also fear you are in danger of becoming possessed! You need Healing-Magic! Listen to me!

He tried to block out the voices that battered at his senses. They were all sending desperate messages at the same time. They were all close now, but they'd split up in three positions to the south, southeast and southwest. He became filled with rage over Carl's decision to bring Jean into danger. His blood began to boil, that familiar and dangerous heat filling his mind that told him he was on the brink of madness. He sent a message to Carl via Arawn.

I told you to look after Jean! Why have you brought her here?

A bolt of crimson fire launched down from the sky to strike the Shield-Sphere a hand's breadth above his skull! He looked skywards to glimpse Arkori's shadow form slipping back through another warp in the air above him. Where was Arawn? Adem leapt through another Portal-Spell to land further north. He knew he couldn't outrun his friends if they kept leaping through Portal-Magic of their own, but he hoped to keep them away from this battle. Boli-Kuldr grunts sounded from the north, south, east and west; he gazed in a circle to see hundreds of the demons marching forwards through the snow to form a barrier around him. They were pushed forwards by four Souljhin on dark mounts—

Adem suddenly felt what he pictured as a claw of blue fire, reaching in through his back, and clutching his heart! Then he seemed to see a foreign entity stepping in through his back: into his own flesh! He suddenly felt very different; icy coldness filled him, and he felt suddenly invaded, violated, as if a heartless enemy had somehow stepped into his very soul!

Panic struck him, as he thought of Jean's warning, yet he knew he was too late! He was too far gone to resist the demon that tried to possess him! He fell to his knees, clutching his skull as he tried to fight off the spirit, though he felt it make his body its new home: hooking into his innards, with hundreds of tiny invisible claws; forcing Adem's soul into an empty space. He screamed, wailed in despair as he realised he was being led into a trap all along!

He thought he had been luring a Hex-Warlord into his trap, but the High-Servant was set as the bait! Pain seared his brain, those tiny claws now burning into his flesh and skull. He heard a deep callous voice in his mind. Give in, Dragon Son! You are helpless to resist me!

Adem stood again, though he was no longer called by that name. He was Kahndo. He looked at the dark armoured Boli-Kuldr with bull and ram skulls that stood around him in a wide circle. Kahndo raised a fist, a bolt of lightning leapt from his arm into the heavens as thunder roared overhead. The Boli-Kuldr began to bow; getting down on one knee as they sounded out a low guttural chant of worship. Adem heard the messages battering him from his friends, but Kahndo cut them off, pushing Adem back into a dark abyss. Kahndo smiled as Balor, Llew and Arawn returned to him, his three pets circling the sky above him. Adem heard Shienden roar in outrage and fear. Kahndo gave an order to his Battle Angels.

Kill the Sons of Odin, and the Daughter of Thor!

***

Carl moved across the snow-covered fields, using his own unique teleport technique he'd learnt before discovering the Heart of Odin. It required less ki'mera than Portal-Magic, and also less teron to use the ability, which meant he could avoid most of the corruption on Angel-Magic. He shifted ten feet in a single step, then twenty feet, or a hundred if he wished, each time unleashing bars of pure crimson Fire-Magic to turn Boli-Kuldr hordes to vapour. There were hundreds of the beasts in this area, close to where he sensed Adem, obviously his friend had willingly walked into a trap, for reasons Carl did not yet understand.

Two hundred dark armoured Boli-Kuldr formed a wedge before him. He could have shifted past them easily, but that would leave them on the loose to threaten Jean or Wil to the east and west of his location. They were both a little further south, as Carl was pushing up the centre of the fields in pursuit of Adem, hoping to reach him in time. But something had already changed in Adem, he felt it acutely, and he knew Jean and Wil felt it also, as he sensed their dread. Adem was not only blocking them, he seemed lost to them completely. Carl was filled with terror at the thought that Adem may already be the victim of a possession demon.

Carl shouted, 'Math Mathonwy!' Twelve Shadow Hounds charged out of thin air before him to race towards the front lines of demons, as Math Mathonwy appeared amongst the Hounds with his cape of blood red fire flaring behind him. The Battle Angel struck the front of the demon wedge with his Hellfire Spear, swiping through armour and severing skulls in a dark spray. Carl shouted, 'Angus!' His other Battle Angel appeared beside Math, the two figures over eight feet tall, Angus swinging his staff of emerald light to knock demons flying in blasts of green flames.

Carl shifted forwards, landing between the two Battle Angels, in the thick of the demon wedge. Carl formed a spell known as the Twin Sabres. Two beams of pure blue flame blasted outwards, in front and behind his position, the Fire-Magic enhanced by the two Battle Angels as they added crimson and emerald flames to the attack. The bars of light were a pace thick, aimed sideways through the demon ranks and stretching off into the distance for over forty paces. Carl swivelled his spear left and right while the bars of flame were extended across that distance—turning Boli-Kuldr armour to melted slag; flesh to congealed char and bones to smoking ashes—as hundreds of demon bodies were torn, ripped apart or exploded in a matter of seconds.

That attack drained a valuable portion of Carl's stored ki'mera, as well as that of his Battle Angels. But Carl did not come here to mess around. If enemies got in his way while he tried to save Adem, they would be wiped out by whatever means possible. He shifted again, twenty feet to the north, as his Battle Angels returned to his spear. He shifted again, forty feet northeast, pursuing Adem, but also hunting Boli-Kuldr along the way. He began to notice dark shapes other than trees in his surroundings, and realised they were stone ruins of an ancient kingdom ruled by immortals that had merged with the Torvellen in a later age. Math confirmed that they were known as the Denvahnen, similar to Dremelden in Wood Lore but more like Torvellen in skin tone and features. Finding such ruins was common wherever you travelled in Kismeria, but he was also certain he had glimpsed a human form, carved of pale light, wielding a bow, standing on a large flat slab of stone ruins. The ghostly figure was similar to a Hero of Will, though not so colourful or defined. Had someone brought the Harp of Odin to this battle? He shifted to the top of the stone slab and found nothing but the snow-covered ground and the cold night air. Carl put the thought aside, shifting fifty paces northeast, his spear blazing like red lightning in the darkness.

***

Jean moved across the thick blankets of snow with caution, but also with haste. To her right, four Ael Tarael guarded her flank, with Lydia and Elmira to her left, the two women guarded by their husbands wielding those swords of golden and emerald fire. Flames leapt from the fingers of the women on both sides, and occasionally bolts of blue lightning from Lydia and Elmira, burning through the dark scaled armour of bull or ram skulled Boli-Kuldr patrolling the fields. The demons moved northwards in groups of anywhere between fifteen and fifty, the beasts charging for them from every direction as Jean attempted to contact Adem via Tanriel. Wil and Carl's Battle Angels agreed Adem had already been taken over by a possession demon. Jean faced that fact with grim determination to save him from that doom. However, Tanriel warned Jean that Arawn, Balor and Llew were now also under the control of the demon. That could make things very difficult to get anywhere near Adem without being burned to cinders.

Bars of liquid flame launched from the hands of the women to her right, crimson, golden, aqua and emerald light that tore through waves of demon bodies, armour and flesh falling in slices. To her left, Lydia and Elmira unleashed Pixie Wardens—palm sized blue winged fire sprites that soared towards a demon and punched through their breastplates like lasers! The hordes were getting larger, sometimes up to a hundred or more demons appearing over the rises to the east and west, as well as more charging up from the south.

When the southern lines were a hundred paces away Jean breathed the name; 'Tanriel.' Crimson spears flew towards the demons, landing blade down in the snow as golden-orange flames erupted in massive sheets to blast through the demon ranks. The beasts cried in savage tongues as flesh melted off their bones. Tanriel hovered ten feet above Jean and some distance in front of her entourage, the blue winged Battle Angel throwing Flame Spears east and west; waves of flame tearing through armour and flesh: hundreds of demon bodies were reduced to vapour. 'Adem is possessed!' Jean shouted to her companions. 'Carl will try to reach him while we attack the demons that are surrounding Adem! Be warned, Adem's Battle Angels will try to kill any of you on sight!'

She formed a Portal-Spell and the four Ael Tarael leapt through moments after Tobin and Orion. Jean followed next—after Tanriel returned to her Resting Point—with Lydia and Elmira protecting her rear. They landed several miles further north; southeast of Adem's location. Carl was further north and to the west of Jean's position. Guttural cries filled the night air, flames lit up the shadows on both sides as the women launched into another attack. Her other concern was Tanriel's certainty that a High-Servant was also within Adem's vicinity. Jean was also concerned about the possibility of more Demonwolves being on the hunt for them this far west. It would take days for the Borderland pack to reach their current location, but if there were more nearby, Carl would have to exorcise Adem's demon before the real danger arrived.

You have to fight, Adem! We're coming to rescue you! I still love you!

***

Jeimella Corsarvin lowered the brass encased spyglass—drawing her fox-fur lined silk cloak tightly about her form after passing the looking device to her First Captain, Lord Fien Marghotha. Fien was a sharp eyed Torvellen, aged and weathered with white tinges to his dark moustache and beard, a strong angular jaw and a hooked nose like the beak of a hawk. The man raised the spyglass to his right eye and grunted his comprehension of what Jeimella had already surmised. 'That is the Highlander boy's Battle Angels,' Fien agreed in his rasping tone, he was old even for an immortal general. He was also among those few men known as great captains. 'It appears that he is trapped, and his Battle Angels are unable to fight. Either that or ...'

Jeimella was sure her First Captain did not wish to speak of the other possibility; that Adem Highlander had joined forces with Jinn-Fendinn!

Jeimella was young for a potential Torvellen Queen, though her House Corsarvin—forever known for great fortune and great charity—had chosen her as the most suitable to lead an army to claim that title, and behind her rode forty thousand Torvellen soldiers, mercenaries, farmer warriors and hired swords. They were a loyal force, but she knew she would need more than loyalty to win the throne of Tarvel, and to rule all of Torvis without opposition. The Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor could lend her great influence in those aims, but what if Adem Highlander truly had become evil? 'To rescue him would result in great rewards from the White Snow Fox,' Fien suggested, leaving the conclusion of his thoughts unmentioned.

'Such an attempt could also result in my entire forces being wiped out in one night!' Jeimella replied vehemently. She had never been considered good looking by immortal standards, more handsome with her mother's dark eyes and raven black hair and her father's hooked nose, tanned skin and chiselled cheek bones. She wore a shining navy breastplate of lacquered steel, a sky-blue coat with the Silver Hand and Gold Coin sigil of House Corsarvin embroidered on the sleeves, a dark green-embroidered blue skirt divided for riding and red leather boots that went up past her knees. The skirts almost reached her ankles for modesty of course, but tall boots were preferred if she was ever expected to get down off her mount and trudge through this snow. 'Get your men in position to charge those rear lines of Boli-Kuldr on this eastern wedge,' Jeimella instructed her First Captain. She knew her army really only had loyalty for Fien Marghotha, but they would follow her and win her every battle so long as Fien gave the commands. Fien pressed a dark green gauntlet to his ebony-and-golden breastplate, then reached for his golden hawk winged helmet from the pommel of his saddle before adding his expert opinion that archers would be of better use to harry the enemy into breaking formation before attempting a charge. Jeimella fought down her irritation at the man's ability to judge a situation with greater precision than all her years of training in battle strategies. 'You have full command,' she said with absolute confidence in his ability. 'I want the best outcome for all of us, mind. If we can spare lives, do it. If we must make sacrifices to save Adem Highlander, I leave it up to your better judgement.'

They had tracked the Boli-Kuldr hordes for three days leading up to this event, after the guards at the Travelling Gate northeast of Tarvel had been defeated by a vast swarm of demons that emerged from the now dark doorways. It was the first proof that the Gates could now be used as portals for demons, a new ability of the High-Servants. Only one rider had made it away alive to report of the situation, and when Jeimella's forces had reached the Gate they had found only slain soldiers—some of them half eaten, raw!—and hundreds of pairs of hoof prints heading southwest towards Tarvel. As they followed the tracks, they discovered the demons were walking single file to hide their numbers; that they now estimated to be in the many thousands.

At Fien's command two thousand archers moved into position after dismounting. The lightning wielded by Highlander reflected off the dark arrow shafts as they launched into the sky, falling upon the demon army to feather Boli-Kuldr shoulders and skulls as if they were giant pincushions. The demons had been down on their knees, facing Highlander and chanting in their guttural tongue. The attack caught them by surprise, horns were sounded as the creatures began to holler and growl, turning to face Jeimella's forces as confusion ran through their ranks.

Suddenly Highlander struck back; hundreds of blue bolts fell from a cloudless sky to hammer into Jeimella's line of archers! Thunder roared through the air like the call of a legion of giant lions! Her men screamed as flesh was torn from their bones! She gasped in horror at the betrayal of a Son of Odin! 'He's completely mad!' she screamed to her First Captain. 'Sound the retreat!' But as the horns sounded and the army began to turn to attempt escape from the terrible onslaught, the sounds of battle began on the eastern edge of the army, and riders soon arrived to report that thousands more Boli-Kuldr were blocking their escape! Suddenly Jeimella began to see that she had been walking into this deadly trap since she first heard word of the demon invasion. She wondered if one of her adversaries had cooked this up to take her out of the race for the throne. If that were true, it would mean the rumours were true; that one of the nobles in line for the throne was in fact a Shadowsouled!

The screams of her dying men filled her ears to the east, along with the sounds of clashing steel and the thunder of hooves. 'Do something!' she shouted at her First Captain, but Fien was still looking daunted over the attack by Highlander. A moment later his eyes returned to focus. It was as if her desperate scream had penetrated his bewilderment, and now he just looked furious! He was a general once more, shouting commands, rallying his captains and lieutenants, preparing to defend his ground. He could win this battle for her too. She believed that. He was one of the great captains!

Jeimella also decided then and there, that if Fien was able to turn this scene of terror into a victory, she would bed him and then convince the man to marry her. She would give him strong sons and wise daughters. That would be a battle in itself to convince the man to forget his long-lost wife, who died after falling from her horse when Fien was a young man. Immortals seldom wished for another woman after loving one as their bride. But she had seen the sideways glances he often gave her when other noblemen tried to proposition her, and she would convince him of her need if he proved himself here and now. 'Do not let them harm the Highlander boy!' she cried. 'He is our last hope!' Fien muttered a curse under his breath at that command, but she knew he would understand that it was plain truth. Everything depended on bringing Adem Highlander back to the side of the All-Father.

She heard Fien's orders shouted to his captains, they would make a charge south to try to reach a defensible position within the ruins of Kohoraikhan, an ancient Denvahnen fortress. 'Good,' she breathed with relief, 'you are quick to make plans when the pressure is on, First Captain.' She tilted her head in a short bow to offer him honour for his courage and clarity of mind. She also decided she would need to acquire some Ael Tarael as soon as they made it out of this mess! An army of swords was almost useless against a wielder and his Battle Angels. And mad Alit'aren were becoming as common as weasels down rabbit holes these days!

Chapter 13

The Shadow's Grip

Carl shifted to a position where he had a raised perspective of Adem and the hordes of Boli-Kuldr that surrounded him in a large circle. Some of the beasts were chanting and apparently worshipping Adem, which confirmed to Carl that his friend was in fact possessed! Other Boli-Kuldr were forming wedges and starting to head south, basically in the direction back towards those Denvahnen ruins. He'd also seen a large Torvellen army fleeing the Boli-Kuldr on horseback, apparently none of them Ael Tarael as they were being beaten down by the demons before they started to move south. Some of the riders had remained to protect the escape of the bulk of the force, and Carl was inclined to lend a hand before they were wiped out by the hordes that were now crushing them from both sides. He decided instead that he would need to use this distraction to try to reach Adem, however. But before he made his move, he sensed for Wil's location to the southwest, and he used Portal-Magic to shift there, over three miles in a single step.

Wil stood with Elarja to his right and Arig to his left. Hayley had been left at Orodhel with Terese and her Vampire Guard. The main reason for this was so that a suitable watch could remain to take care of Isabelle in case the High-Servants were looking for just such opportunities to strike. Arig had his crimson Lukrorian Bow raised; a dozen fire arrows cutting down Boli-Kuldr that were approaching from the west of their location. The demons fell with fatal wounds gaping through their black armour as Carl said to Wil, 'I'll need Elarja's help for this to work. You and Arig approach Adem after me and use your Battle Angels to hold off Arawn, Llew and Balor. I'll allow Math and Angus to help in a Link, and Elarja and I will try to get close enough to Adem to force that demon out of him!' Wil nodded, raising his Lukrorian Bow as he took down seven Boli-Kuldr to the northwest with golden bolts of flame.

Carl made another portal and Elarja leapt through first. Carl gripped his spear and stepped through the doorway in space to land on the same rise overlooking Adem and the demons. Carl quickly explained what he would need Elarja to do while Carl tried to get close to Adem. The emerald-eyed immortal nodded his agreement, though he also looked more than troubled over the plan. 'It's the only way!' Carl insisted; then he placed a hand on Elarja's shoulder and shifted them both to land inside the circle of Boli-Kuldr.

When Adem saw them, he looked enraged, a fierce burning of contempt in his eyes that appeared now almost completely black! Adem wore a blue coat and boots with dark trousers, and he wore a disguise that made him appear as a Torvellen immortal. But it was him, Carl could sense it. Carl thought it would have disheartened him more to see the real Adem in this state of mind control, and he was glad for the disguise for that reason.

In a bolt of colour and light, Balor, Llew and Arawn appeared in the sky above Adem, and at that moment Carl summoned Angus and Math Mathonwy, shouting their names as his own two Battle Angels launched into the sky to take on Balor and Arawn. Llew was left unopposed, but Carl had already sent a message to Wil, and a second later the massive forms of Bran and Dis Pater appeared in front of Llew on blue and golden wings, crossing blades with Adem's Battle Angel as sparks of lightning blasted from their weapons and thunder tore the air around them!

The opposing Battle Angels formed Links between their own groups, and lightning began to fall from a cloudless sky, hundreds of bolts burning emerald, aqua, crimson and gold. Thunder roared through the heavens, and two opposing vortexes of dark grey clouds began to form above the Battle Angels. Carl turned to shout to Elarja, 'Do it now!' Elarja was already holding the enchanted Time Stones in his right fist, and light of many colours burst from his hand to spread outwards in a massive sphere, encompassing Adem, Carl and Elarja, and the Battle Angels above. In that same instant, Adem raised both hands palm facing out towards Carl, and twin bolts of lightning launched towards Carl and Elarja as Carl quickly brought up a Shield-Sphere. The bolts moved slower than they should have, slowed by the time sphere Elarja had created, though Carl would've been ready with a Shield-Spell despite this advantage. Carl and Elarja moved faster than Adem, and Carl's and Wil's Battle Angels were also gifted this extra speed. Carl looked skywards to see that Balor, Llew and Arawn moved sluggishly in their blade forms, while Bran, Dis Pater, Angus and Math Mathonwy had obvious speed advantage over them as they swung damaging strikes against their opponents.

Adem threw more bolts of lightning at Carl and Elarja, but Carl could shift locations to one side and closer to Adem; faster than the time it took for the lightning to reach the point where he'd been standing. He saw recognition of this on Adem's Torvellen face, the dark eyes burning with corruption and hatred as he threw more lightning at each point Carl landed; each time moving closer to Adem's position. When he was standing a few feet away from Adem and facing him, he leapt across the distance to place his hands on Adem's skull, using his speed advantage to force powerful Healing-Magic into his mind.

A slow blast of light flared around Adem's form, moving outwards to force Carl flying backwards through the air. Despite this attack, Carl flew back fast enough to avoid the strike, forming another Shield-Sphere to protect himself and Elarja before the light reached them. In this moment Adem formed a Portal-Spell and leapt through it, his Battle Angels following after with greater speed as the time sphere began to wear off.

That Healing-Magic should've given Adem a chance at fighting back against the demon that possessed him. Carl summoned Math and Angus back to their Resting Points as the lightning ceased to fall and the two vortex clouds bulged then vanished in a blast of lightning and thunder.

Wil was at his side moments after, wielding his golden bow and firing upon the surrounding Boli-Kuldr with fierce determination. Arig provided backup with crimson arrows of flame. There was no need to fight their way out of course, as both Carl and Wil sensed for Adem's new location, and Carl made a Portal-Spell that Elarja and Arig leapt through with Wil and Carl following moments after. Carl alerted Jean of their position; another raised vantage point close to the western side of the Denvahnen fortress. The Torvellen army had mobilised inside the stone defences and were fighting hard to keep the Boli-Kuldr hordes from penetrating the ruins. The stone walls were mostly under chest height; the warriors on foot as they pushed back demons with flamespears and shockpikes, firing volleys of arrows and crossbow bolts at the waves that surged forward.

Carl saw Adem standing amongst the approaching demon hordes, raising a fist as blue lightning rained down upon the Torvellen warriors, frying them in a neon blaze. Terrified screams filled the air as the men saw that it was Adem Highlander who assaulted them, as Adem had now removed his disguise to allow them to see his face. Carl wondered how Adem could continue to lead these people once the word spread of this event. It was a heartbreaking betrayal! With teron in his veins, Carl could see the despair in the eyes of those warriors vividly, despite their distance. Carl knew something was very wrong. This possession demon must be strong to still dominate over Adem's will. It also suggested these spirits could still invade or control a body when the mind was returning to clarity. Carl said another prayer, this time asking God to fill Adem's heart with pain and also with light, so that he could remember what he'd always been fighting for. It seemed to be the only chance he had left. All Carl could do now was to lend some support to these unfortunate souls caught in the crossfire.

***

Jean watched in horror as Adem continued to assault the Torvellen forces with lightning and fire. This was a nightmare come to life, but it was also a memory of her experience in the Chameleon Arch that had become a reality. She knew this battle, she'd seen it in one of her visions of a possible future, when Adem was so mad he lost control of himself and turned against the very people who fought to protect him. She used Tanriel to batter him with messages, urging him to fight and dominate over this wretched demon that had stolen his body. She sent waves of her emotions to him also, letting him feel how much she still truly loved him, that she needed him desperately and could not believe what she was seeing! You have to fight, Adem! Why did you go off on your own? Fight him, Adem! Make him see that you are the stronger one!

But she knew it was futile. Adem was gone. She could not feel his emotions; she couldn't even perceive that this man she saw with his face was actually him!

We have no time for this, Adem! We must return you to Orodhel! Isabelle is in great danger! Your soon to be born child is in danger! Listen to me!

The thought that troubled her most was the memory of how this battle had ended. It was one of those future lives where she had decided the only way to do what was right, was to get close enough to Adem to plant a dagger in his heart! Of course, in the Chameleon Arch she didn't have all the background details, like Isabelle, and the Demonwolves, and the possession demon. But she had been here before, she had seen this all in her mind, in her memory. It was these memories that gave her nerves of steel and made her heart ache every time she looked at Adem's face.

Adem's Battle Angels appeared again and were immediately unleashing bolts of fire upon the Torvellen forces, cruel menacing attacks like shooting ducks in a barrel. She would have to put a stop to this one way or another! She shouted, 'Tanriel and Anwen!' as her Battle Angels took to the skies to fight with Adem's own. Angus and Dis Pater lent support moments after while Math Mathonwy and Bran threw down bolts of crimson and aqua fire at the Boli-Kuldr hordes that ruptured into blasts of destructive force. It was still a disaster! How could Adem be so blind as to let this prophecy come to fruition? She shuddered at the thought that she may have to find the courage to end this prophecy, and if she did, they were all surely doomed. She turned to one of the Ael Tarael guarding her right flank. 'Give me your dagger,' she said to the dark-haired mortal woman. 'I have a plan.'

***

Fien Marghotha shouted commands to his lieutenants guarding this side of the wall. Boli-Kuldr were pushing forwards in swarms wherever the defences were weakest, and he needed to move amongst his men to rally them with the courage to fight! Jeimella was deeper in the higher defences with a large guard of defenders, and she would take command if he fell in this battle. He would've preferred to stay by her side, but he was certain this was a battle he could not win unless he played a greater part in it.

A Souljhin charged for the wall on a dark steed; the cloaked figure leaping on to and then over the wall to swing its tainted crimson blade wildly amongst his soldiers. Men cried as they fell with the fatal wounds that would corrupt them in hours at the most, there was no way to save even one of them. Men surrounded the Souljhin; pushing at its dark armour with flamespears while Agnars moved within the circle to surround the figure. Two experienced warriors were suddenly forcing the creature back towards the wall as they crossed blades and moved through sword forms with immortal speed.

Fien was already pushing through the crowds to reach the demon-man. Two flamespears punched through the back of the Souljhin's cloak and armour as the swordsmen raised their blades vertically and a flurry of crossbow bolts thudded into the creature's chest and face. Blinded now, the Souljhin still swung the sword as it somehow found its way back onto the wall and was attempting to summon its horse when Fien stepped onto the wall beside it. His blade glinted in the moonlight as it cleaved the Souljhin's head from its neck! Fien had been lucky that the creature was blind and also distracted by the spears that had been pushing towards it from below the wall. He'd managed to strike when the Souljhin's back was turned. There was no cowardice in killing one in that way. Fien was too old to face one—even one so disabled as this one was—in a fair sword fight. His men cheered as the shadow cloaked figure fell from the wall beside its mount. The dark steed regarded Fien with an eye like hot coal then bolted back towards the demon army. The demon skull had fallen on the other side of the wall, and a soldier booted it with a scowl as Fien gazed at dozens of men fallen from the tainted blade. "Defend this wall!" Fien roared at his men, and dozens more moved forward to close the gap as Boli-Kuldr began to try to climb up and over. Fien jumped back towards his men just in time to avoid being skewered by a large demon spear.

***

Carl, Wil, Arig and Elarja leapt through a Portal-Spell to land behind the stone defences used by the Torvellen warriors. Carl soon found their leader, a hawk-faced immortal named Fien Marghotha. The man stood almost a head height taller than Carl and Wil, though his expression showed that he held the Sons of Odin in high regard despite Adem's condition.

After a quick explanation to Fien of Adem's possession demon, the dark-eyed general led them to a raised fortification where they could oversee the battle and unleash Angel-Magic from a higher vantage point. Carl didn't waste much time, lending his support by throwing bars of crimson fire at the Boli-Kuldr trying to scale the low walls where soldiers fought desperately to keep them out. Carl struck beyond those walls of course, not aiming for the demons trying to climb the stone ruins, but instead sending fire that erupted into golden-orange explosions on impact. Wil and Arig used their bows to release streams of flaming arrows, golden and crimson shafts knocking Boli-Kuldr from the walls as the Torvellen warriors pushed with their shockpikes and flamespears.

The conflict continued in the air above them with the two opposing forces of Battle Angels striking at one another with their massive glowing weapons. Carl sensed that Math and Angus were beginning to tire, and he hoped they would last as long as it took for Adem's Battle Angels to return to their Resting Point. Both sides of the Battle Angel combatants had formed Links; lightning bolts falling like rain as thunder roared through the sky above. They were managing to keep Adem's Battle Angels from attacking more soldiers for now, which was the best they could hope for given the circumstances. Carl noticed a slight grin on Fien's visage when he caught a glance of the general standing to one side and watching the battle turn in his favour. The man's eyes showed no hint of any humour however, they appeared to be burning with rage.

They were only there to lend their support for a few minutes; then Carl left Wil in charge with Arig for backup as he grasped Elarja by the shoulder and shifted back to the hill where Jean waited with her entourage. They grouped together, and Carl formed another Portal-Spell, Orion and Tobin leaping through first, followed quickly by the four Ael Tarael who served as Jean's guard. Jean, Carl and Elarja were next with Lydia and Elmira following last to land in the circle where Adem stood alone surrounded by demons.

Orion and Tobin were already under assault by a number of Boli-Kuldr that had charged in from the surrounding circle, and Elarja quickly raised his fist to create another time slow sphere within that area. The coloured lightning bolts seemed to bend in the air around the translucent sphere of liquid-flame that expanded far enough to encompass the Battle Angels above also. Tobin and Orion moved like wraiths amongst the Boli-Kuldr as the two Agnars moved through the sword forms; Corn Harvest flowing into Storm Blade changing into Grey Ram Charges, Ice Spears into Bear Claw, they took down three more before the first reached the ground; dark blood spraying in slow motion. Lydia and Elmira began throwing bolts of blue flame that took down seven demons a second, as the other four Ael Tarael began throwing bars of flame at the eastern side of the circle while the Boli-Kuldr began to advance.

Shield-Spells went up as Adem began throwing bolts of lightning at his friends, Carl and Jean stood together with Elarja, and then Carl clutched both by the shoulders, shifting closer to Adem while avoiding his attacks due to their speed advantage. Carl prayed this time the plan worked, because Jean had a backup plan that would spell disaster for them all if it came down to that!

***

When they were within hand's reach of Adem, Jean reached out to clutch his skull in her hands, wielding terael into his flesh in a desperate attempt at Healing-Magic. Adem's dark-eyed possession demon appeared enraged by the tactic; his slowed response encased Jean in blue flames moments later as Carl used all his strength to maintain strong enough Shield-Spells to withstand the heat. He'd formed a link with Lydia and Elmira before shifting here to ensure he was strong enough to keep Jean unharmed, creating the Shield-Sphere just large enough to protect himself, Jean and Elarja within a small area as blue fire roared on all sides. He used the rest of his strength to hold Adem's arms locked at his sides in a Shield-Trap that restricted him from moving, but Carl could not maintain this and keep Adem blocked from teron at the same time. Carl was strong with Shield-Spells but forming two of this kind—one to hold Adem and one to protect themselves from his fire—was the best they could achieve given the circumstances. Her plan allowed for this.

She could still see Adem's face through the fire, and she kept her left hand on his face to continue to wield her Healing-Spell, though she'd done most of what she was capable of there. Her other hand reached for the dagger behind her belt, it was a hand's length in the flat double-edged blade with a red leather-wrapped hilt. It would put an end to him in short order if plunged directly through his heart, and if she didn't see the old Adem in those eyes soon, she would have to do it! She looked at him pleadingly, as she began to shout to him, using her own voice rather than via Tanriel to his mind. 'Listen to me, Adem, you must fight, and now! I love you, Adem! I loved you the moment I first saw you! I could never live without you, but if you don't snap out of it this instant—' she saw a flicker of recognition in those eyes, returning to blue with desperate dark centres instead of orbs of dark fire. 'Yes, Adem, it's me, it's Jean! My darling, you must fight! I know you're in there! Tell that demon freak he has to go!' The darkness returned to those eyes, and Jean wailed in despair at the thought that time was running out. Through the fire she saw the glowing gold light of four Golden Soldiers rising with cannons aimed right at her and her companions! She gripped the dagger while still clutching it hidden behind her back, when she tried one last thing. She created a Shield-Spell around her own face and Adem's as she leaned forward and kissed him! It was not just a kiss, it was all of her love, her every feeling of love she'd ever had for him expressed through her lips onto his flesh and spirit. If this doesn't fix him, he will deserve to die!

***

Adem saw a light at the top of the dark void that had sucked him into its depths. He felt warmth again, a light in his heart, pain too, but the light was incredible! He realised it had been there with him the entire time he'd been lost in that darkness, but he hadn't realised it was there until he heard Jean's voice, and he shouted the words, 'Eicc'arendiel Alfodr!' In the ancient Nordic Tongue, it meant, 'Wings of Odin!' Blue fire blazed on either side of his form as he soared upwards through the darkness towards the sound of Jean's voice. He breached the light, and then he saw Jean standing before him! She was bathed in blue fire, and he realised he'd been the one to attack her with it! He tried to stop the spell, but a moment later that claw of blue fire clutched his heart once again, and he was ripped back down into the darkness! He fell, into an endless pit of despair, knowing he'd be the one who murdered the love of his life! Jinn-Fendinn's massive black ram skull stared up with eyes like hot coals as a great black claw reached for him in the darkness. Then something changed again, he felt Jean's love enter his heart, it was so amazing, and it filled him with so much joy the Wings of Odin burst aflame once more. He soared up into the light again, pursued by Fendinn as Adem threw down twin Blades of Odin. The Jinn-Lord roared as he fell back into pits of darkness, and Adem continued to fly higher, until he was bathed in light.

Jean was kissing him! She was placing so much emotion into that kiss that he found that he had the will to overpower the demon that controlled his body. That claw of ice clutched his heart again, but Adem's heart replied with an explosion of brilliant bright light! The claw recoiled, as if in terror and revulsion. He felt the spirit exiting his body as that light burst through his entire form. It was electrifying! It was Jean's love for him, and his love for her. She had saved him!

As the blue flames vanished from around her form, he saw Carl and Elarja standing behind her. Then he saw the battle unfolding around him, the sky alight with coloured bolts moving slower than normal time. The four Golden Soldiers turned about face, releasing crimson lasers to cut through demon armour and flesh in dark sprays and cries of terror. Adem gave a command to his Battle Angels, and Arawn, Llew and Balor began to unleash waves of Fire-Magic from their massive glowing weapons, Fire Lions, and Spirit Wolves appearing to tear through the demon ranks. Lions and Wolves pushed Boli-Kuldr down to shred through armour and rip bull and ram skulls free in spurts of dark blood, the demons caught by surprise and wailing in terror as their front lines fell in waves. Those attacks were also slower than normal time, as he realised Elarja had been using the time sphere to delay them.

He looked to Jean's face and saw elation mixed with her absolute terror. He looked down to see her clutching a small flat bladed dagger aimed directly at his heart! His mind reeled in recognition, and her saw her agony over having to make that decision. 'I'm alright, Jean. It's me. We can clean up this mess and then go save Isabelle.' That brought a flicker to her brow as he corrected himself, saying, 'I mean, save Orodhel.'

Even now there was still jealousy in her over his betrayal. She smiled, as Boli-Kuldr charged forwards all around them in slow motion—dropping the knife as she hugged him closely. 'I wasn't going to do it, Adem. I could never do that. I love you so much.' Adem knew she was lying of course. She would've done it to protect the people for a little while longer, no matter the consequences for the long term. 'You have a very big heart, Jean. You would've done what you thought was best.' She clutched him tighter as she began to shiver. Suddenly Carl was pulling them out of their embrace as he pointed to the danger all around them. Every Battle Angel was using their Power to strike down the demons in the surrounding circle—including Tanriel throwing down Flame Spears that burst into sheets of orange fire—but there was a vast swarm of demons, and Orion, Tobin, Lydia, Elmira and the Ael Tarael were all still fighting desperately to keep them from being hacked to pieces.

A Portal-Spell appeared, made by Carl, as his friend shouted, 'You two first! We'll catch up soon!' Adem stepped through the shining rectangle of light with his arm around Jean's waist, the time sphere starting to dissipate around them as the Boli-Kuldr began to move faster in their approach. When they stepped through—followed by Adem's and Jean's Battle Angels in flares of colour—Adem was surprised to find himself on the walkways of the outer walls of Orodhel.

He looked back to see Shienden fly through and perch on the edge of the wall. The dragon seemed to startle Jean as if she had not expected him to be so big. A moment later the Portal-Magic vanished! His heart sank; knowing his friends were risking themselves to see him returned to safety. Then he heard the wolf cries that sent shivers through his bones, and when he looked to the moonlit fields to see massive dark wolves with burning red eyes—that radiated pure evil in waves!—he realised they'd sent him to take care of the real problem. He looked to Jean who was in tears; she was frantic but also seemingly overjoyed at his recovery. Adem asked her while trying to remain calm, 'Just how many of them are out there?'

Chapter 14

An Ancient Evil

Kruxlorin Skeltz hovered within the shadows behind one of his massive pets. Demonwolves were an ancient evil, and Kruxlorin was their master. In the darkness, he would not be perceivable even to the eyes of immortals unless he wanted to be seen, and he waited now, for the right time to reveal himself to this new hero of the Age of Chaos. Kruxlorin had been here for some time already, enough time to consult with the High-Jinn at his new Resting Point at Kerak'Otozi. The High-Jinn had given him precise instructions; lure the boy Highlander out onto the fields, and strike when his back was turned, and his attention taken by the Demonwolves.

His orders were to try to capture Highlander, to take him to Kerak'Otozi to turn him fully to the command of the High-Jinn. If Kruxlorin was unable to achieve this aim, his orders were to exterminate this pest that had continued to disrupt the plotting of the Jinn-Lord. Like the High-Servants of this Age, Kruxlorin would appear human in form wearing a cloak that blended with the darkness, only his skull was more shaped like that of a Boli-Kuldr, with long red bison horns and flesh like black scales. He was taller than any High-Servant also, nearly as tall as the Great Angels in this Age, standing over seven feet and wielding a dark blade that glowed wicked crimson. The sword would turn human flesh to corrosive vapour in a matter of minutes from the slightest cut, though Kruxlorin had many more imaginative ways to put an end to the leader of the Sons of Odin. His Demonwolves began to bay at the moon, radiating their evil presence that must have been more than intimidating to those immortal soldiers that watched from the walkways of the outer walls. Their arrows and crossbow bolts would be futile against his pets. Still, he waited, for the heroic Adem Highlander to meet him on the battlefield.

***

Adem waited for his friends to return before making any attempt to face those massive dark wolves that patrolled the night. They were terrible to behold, more frightening than the largest werewolves he'd faced at Morgrahl Kordahn. He'd decided he would try to take each one out using the emulated version of the Spear of Odin. This was a guess as to whether it would have the desired effect. The other problem was using the Spear that many times would drain his precious ki'mera reserves to a point where his Battle Angels would soon be useless without sufficient time to rest and recover. That was the main reason he needed Carl and Wil on his side, their Battle Angels would be needed to help distract the other Demonwolves while Adem chose his target. Elarja's time slow technique would also be vital to their hopes of survival.

He'd considered taking shots at the beasts from this vantage point on the wall, but there was too much distance between himself and his targets. It was likely they would be able to dodge attacks from this range, and they also had the ability to blend with the darkness and sometimes vanish from his sight completely.

The other main concern was the question of whether it was just these Demonwolves out there, or whether they had a commander. Arawn admitted they did not have the gift of detecting whether such enemies lurked on the fields, though he urged caution of the possibility. The time rift could have allowed one of the ancient Demon Lords to pass through to modern time. If that were the case, Adem wasn't sure what he could do to stop them.

***

Carl had escaped death by forming a Portal-Spell for himself and his companions to leap through before the Boli-Kuldr closed in on them. Elarja's time sphere had slowed the beasts for the vital seconds it took. The Ael Tarael and Lydia and Elmira had thrown fire and lightning around in neon blasts in those last moments, cutting down scores of demons that got close enough to cause panic.

They were all behind the stone wall defences now, with Fien the great captain and their female leader Jeimella. The woman was quite pretty, with short cut dark hair framing her tan skinned face, despite the petulant pout of her lips and the arrogance with which she kept her nose tilted upwards.

She looked slightly pleased to see Adem leave and was also grateful for the assistance Carl and his team provided. They had a substantial guard around the woman on a raised vantage point behind higher stone walls—

Carl spun to block the swipe of a Souljhin blade! The creature had used its teleport technique, to sneak in through deeper shadows: attacking from the rear. Carl guessed a Boli-Kuldr had snuck behind their defences to plant a Jhin-Tap. Fallen men lay sprawled behind the dark cloaked figure, that had its hood raised, so all Carl could see of its face was those disturbing jet-black eyes. He moved like a phantom through the spear forms, taught to him by his Agnars at Nordhel. River Warden, flowing into Storm Fist Strikes, balancing on one foot as he dodged an overhead swipe, just as Fien was at his side to block the tainted blade with Bull Horn. Changing into Corn Harvest to push the creature back, as Carl aimed his spear; a thin beam of crimson fire struck the Souljhin in the chest. A ball of flame burst from the wound; dark armour glowing like magma. The Souljhin wailed as it began to implode in orange blasts; bursting in a spray of dark blood as Carl and Fien stepped back to avoid the splatter.

Three more Souljhin emerged from the shadows; black blades raised glowing wicked crimson. Dozens of Agnars moved to stand against the three, but they kept their distance. They would die to protect their leader, but no one wanted to be touched by one of those tainted swords. Carl created a Portal-Spell for an escape, shouting to Jeimella and Fien to enter first. 'I will not leave my men here to die!' Fien shouted, as Jeimella said, 'You must bring them all with us!'

'There is no time for that!' Carl shouted; men began to fall as Souljhin long swords hacked a path through armour and flesh. A bolt of light flew to punch through the skull of the first Souljhin; slashing wildly in its death throes. The white shaft was in fact, an arrow! The other two Souljhin were feathered with arrows of silvery light, dozens punching through chests and skulls as they collapsed with heavy thuds. Four figures carved of blue-white light stood to the east; wielding long bows of white fire! 'What miracle is this?' Jeimella asked, as she gazed towards the outer wall defences.

Carl looked there to see hundreds of the ghostly forms along the outer wall; silver arrows flying from their bows like lightning cannons! Boli-Kuldr bodies fell in the thousands! Carl realised this was his chance. 'We'll evacuate them all!' he shouted to Jeimella, 'But you must go first!' He didn't have time to waste arguing with the woman, but he could see she would not budge until her men were safely away. 'My place is here, in Torvis!' she shouted at him. Carl roared his reply, 'You will all die unless you take refuge!' Fien must have seen to reason before her, as he was suddenly picking the woman up and throwing her over his shoulder, she beat at his back and kicked her boots wildly as he carried her through. Carl created another for himself and his companions to land behind the ruins where most of the soldiers still fought.

Retreat horns were sounded as Carl formed a link with Lydia and Elmira to create the largest Portal-Spell he could manage in his drained condition. It was wide enough for fifty or more men to charge though abreast, on horseback! The evacuation was slowed by the confusion and chaos; fortunately, those ghost Archers made it possible for the ranks to retreat in waves.

Carl sent Wil through with the four Ael Tarael; Arig and Elarja remaining, as well as Lydia, Elmira, Tobin and Orion. They formed a defensive circle around his form as they watched the riders pour through the massive Portal-Spell. Soon there were only hundreds left defending the walls. He planted the spear in the stone, calling on deep reserves of Angel-Magic through his link with Lydia and Elmira. The spear glowed as flames licked up along the blade tip. Teron filled him; rivers of ecstasy and light, Jinn-Magic a dark acid corroding his flesh and bones! Along the outer wall flames erupted in massive golden-orange blasts, rupturing through the Boli-Kuldr ranks as demon bodies exploded. The remaining Torvellen began to fight with superhuman speed, blades and spears slashing and stabbing the front-line demons that made it past the fires—

A beam of crimson fire launched down from the skies—a High-Servant hovering twenty feet high—blocked by Shield-Spheres from Elarja, Lydia and Elmira, but the impact sent shockwaves through their inner circle. Carl took the brunt of the force. He fell to his knees, his ears ringing, his body was in agony. He fell forwards; face down on the stone, he breathed the name, 'Math Mathonwy!' Darkness swallowed his vision.

***

Tobin watched as Math Mathonwy launched into the sky, on crimson wings, to hack at the High-Servant with his Hellfire Spear. Lightning sprayed off their clashed blades; thunder roared. Tobin reached down to pick up Carl Wilder and throw him over his shoulder, handing his crimson spear to Orion; racing towards the Portal-Spell on their swift Aelfin feet. They crossed into the courtyard at Orodhel; looking back to see Math Mathonwy following. The Torvellen forces were still charging through the Portal-Magic; Tobin realised the doorway could not be shut unless Carl woke to release the Angel-Magic. Men riding or running on foot while dragging their horses by the reins poured from the doorway of light; followed by the High-Servant, throwing down crimson bars of fire; burning men to cinders!

The bulk of the forces were gathered in front of the Portal-Spell, and now facing the doorway, where Boli-Kuldr arrows began to fly through. The creatures could not travel through Portal-Magic, but those massive arrows and crossbow bolts would do serious damage, with Jeimella's forces pressed around the inside of the outer wall. Fien took command, shouting, 'Archers!' Hundreds of soldiers moved towards the portal and began to fire back through the doorway of light. As many arrows came through as were sent back however, and those hundreds of men were dropping like sacks of grain with shafts through their chests and throats. The High-Servant hammered their ranks with bolts of flame; Math Mathonwy flew to oppose the enemy, lightning and thunder blasting from their blades. They needed to wake Carl Wilder, before these warriors were cut to pieces!

***

The main gate portcullis was raised on Adem's command. The Torvellen riders began to flee out onto the fields, to escape the Boli-Kuldr arrows, and crossbow bolts, flying through that massive Portal-Spell; bull and ram skulled beasts in dark armour, howling and grunting in their savage tongue.

Ael Tarael were sent towards the lower level of the courtyard, twelve women in a link, to create a Shield-Wall to block the Boli-Kuldr arrows, giving Fien's forces time to rush through the narrow gateway. Jeimella remained by Adem's side on the wall, but the great captain, Fien Marghotha, found a horse and charged through the gateway to lead his men in the tactic Adem had briefly explained.

They had other riders assembled in the courtyard, but they were blocked by the Portal-Magic and the Boli-Kuldr arrows facing the portcullis—the riders of Orodhel behind the closed half of the portal—so it would be up to Fien's riders to provide the necessary distractions for Adem's plan to work. Jothar Kelderath was also on the wall, barking orders at his captains and lieutenants who spread out along the walkway sending commands to the defenders—yet if these Demonwolves turned out to be good at scaling sixty feet high stone walls, their efforts to hold them back would most likely be ineffective.

Two expert Healing-Magic Ael Tarael saw to Carl's wounds, though neither had been able to wake him. Adem waited for his company to assemble around him, Arig, Elarja and Wil to his left, Lydia and Elmira with their husbands to his right. Jean would stay on the wall with Terese and Isabelle, as well as Hayley who still carried her baby girl in her arms.

With a gesture from Adem, a Portal-Spell appeared to his far left, Wil, Arig and Elarja leaping through, followed by Adem and the former rulers of Nordhel and Tarvel. They landed on the dark fields not far from Fien's riders, though the horses were luring seven of the Demonwolves away from that location. Adem struck hard and fast, summoning the Spear of Odin, throwing a bar of liquid-blue fire as thick as his forearm: launched from his open palm. The Spear struck the closest, that howled, as blue lightning surged through its shadow flesh.

The rest of the pack split up, snarling and barking in savage tongues, that sounded oddly human. The one he'd struck collapsed, with a bright hole of blue-white fire burning in its chest. A moment later the creature exploded, in a blast of light, as a hollow wail tore the air. Adem breathed a sigh of relief, to know he had a way of destroying these beasts.

Two more charged towards him, on his left and right flanks! Elarja raised his fist, coloured light burst from his hand, as time slowed around them, in an expanding transparent bubble. The Demonwolves slowed in their charge, as Adem used his advantage to wield the Spear! A bar of blue flame striking the one to his right, in the skull; head bursting in a dark spray. The body fell with a heavy thud: the earth shuddered. In these moments, Wil and Arig were firing golden and crimson arrows at the beast charging from their left side—the impact stunned the Wolf enough to push it slightly off course—and Adem used that distraction to create another Portal-Spell, just large enough for them all to leap through together, before the Wolf trampled them, or crushed them in its gaping jaws.

They landed further south, close again to Fien's charging horsemen, who were at this point being attacked from both flanks, by four of the massive Wolves. They bit screaming horses in half: swallowed the rider in one mouthful. Adem saw his moment! Two Spears of Odin launched from each fist! They struck the two Wolves, with their backs turned; gorging on horseflesh and riders. White fire erupted through their flesh. Both became blasts of glittering light: black blood sprayed the riders close by. Two Wolves on the far flank were still causing chaos. Wil shouted, 'Eledisren!' as Adem cried, 'Arawn!'

Dis Pater and Arawn appeared; ten feet tall figures in cloaks of shadows and dark scaled armour. Dis Pater's raw emotion bloodlust! He hacked at one of the Wolves: his massive battle axe glowing golden. Arawn; silver-skull mask and eyes of flame, attacked the other Wolf; massive crimson blade hacking at the creature's neck and legs. The beasts howled and retreated.

Adem formed another Portal-Spell, leaping through with his companions, to land behind Arawn and Dis Pater—Elarja created another time sphere. Adem raised both fists pointed at the beasts. Spears of Odin launched! Dark hides and blood exploding: burning white skeletons collapsed.

***

Jean summoned Tanriel just before a Shield-Sphere formed around herself, Hayley, Isabelle and Terese. Tanriel had formed the Shield-Magic, as that High-Servant had thrown a bar of red flame at their backs.

She spun to face the masked Hex-Warlord, as did her companions, just as Tanriel hovered behind him; her Flame Spear struck a Shield-Spell and punched halfway through. Golden-orange flame burst around the spear, outside and inside the Shield-Magic. The High-Servant roared before vanishing in a warp of Air-Magic. Jean turned back to the fields; she was certain that one would not return any time soon.

Carl and the Healing-Magic Ael Tarael were also within that protective circle, and Jean wasn't certain who the High-Servant had been targeting. Hayley still clutched her baby and her expression was pure fury.

Tanriel soared across the fields to hover above the Torvellen riders, throwing down Flame Spears that burst into sideways sheets of scorching fire, cutting off the path of the four Demonwolves that charged the soldiers and their horses. Four Green Men rose up out of the earth in front of the Wolves, grasping the beasts by the haunches and forcing them back with their incredible strength. They beat at the Wolves with their massive fists like wooden clubs—the Wolves howling as they retreated—to give Fien's riders a chance to escape. Moments later the Wolves fought back, pushing the Green Men to the ground and tearing through their wood and vine chests with claws like razor sharp steel.

***

Adem saw a dark shadow become visible out of thin air before him, cloaked like the High-Servants, this figure stood taller, with broad shoulders and a head like a bull; long bison horns glowing crimson. Its eyes were hot coals, and beneath its dark scaled armour were thick shaggy thighs and black hooves.

The figure wielded a giant crimson sword that it raised; Arawn suddenly there to cross blades with the creature.

Arawn fought with ferocity, standing head and shoulders taller than the Demon Lord, yet this creature was swifter in its blade forms, and it struck a few blows against Arawn's dark armour to push the Battle Angel into retreat. He heard Orion and Arig cry out, as he flicked his head to see Demonwolves charging from both flanks. Elarja's time sphere expanded; Adem threw his fists to strike the Demonwolves in their hearts. White fire blossomed in their dark chests; they slid through the field towards Adem and his friends; Wil creating another Portal-Spell before they were crushed by the collapsing forms of the two Wolves.

They landed some distance from the battle between Arawn and the Demon Lord. A massive black cougar with three skulls began to rise up out of the earth; shadow skin shining like molten lava. Wil shouted 'Eledisren!' Dis Pater lunged for the giant cougar; his golden axe cleaving at the three skulls. The beast was taller than Dis Pater even when standing on all fours; roaring as it slashed at the Battle Angel with a giant black claw.

Adem hurled a Spear of Odin at one of the skulls, the fire lanced through the night turning darkness into daylight. White fire scorched the middle skull, but the attack did not defeat it! Adem cried, 'Balor!' as the blue armoured Battle Angel rushed to Dis Pater's aid, swinging his massive blue axe to hack at one of the skulls. Shadowhunter, the giant Spirit Wolf of blue flames appeared; biting down on the thick neck of the cougar, trying to make it bleed.

Arawn informed Adem that he would need to defeat the Demon Lord before he could stop any of his Spirit Wardens. Adem created another Portal-Spell; all leapt through to land behind the Demon Lord, still in combat against Arawn. Elarja slowed time as Adem threw another Spear at the back of the cloaked figure. The bolt of white-hot flame struck a Shield-Sphere that looked like ice, sending cracks through the structure that also glowed with golden fire. He hurled two more Spears with both fists aimed at the Shield-Magic, more cracks formed, but the Demon Lord was unharmed.

The Demon Lord was also slowed by the time sphere, giving Arawn the advantage in sword forms as he beat down upon the creature's defence moves. Four soldiers formed of liquid magma rose up out of the earth and raised shields and spears as they marched towards Adem and his friends. These soldiers were also slowed in their approach, giving them a chance—Arig and Wil hammering the figures with Lukrorian Arrows—as Adem shouted, 'Llew Llaw Gyffes!'

A sword of violet flame pushed at the cracks in the Demon Lord's Shield-Sphere as Adem raised his fists to unleash twin Spears of Odin. A bolt of thick white-hot flame fell from the sky above the Demon Lord, surrounding the shadow figure in claws of white lightning! The Shield-Magic shattered, just as Llew's sword punched through the back of the figure, and Adem's Spears also struck the back of the Demon Lord. The creature had still been battling with Arawn, and it gave a fierce roar as the white fire erupted through its shadow flesh. The lightning from the sky still surrounded the figure—and violet and crimson bolts surged from Llew and Arawn into the Demon Lord's flesh—as Arawn also drove his crimson blade through the heart of the beast. Thunder roared as lightning stripped flesh from bone—and suddenly Shienden was soaring overhead, lending his Dragonfire to the assault—then the beast exploded; bright flames and ashes unleashing shockwaves as a hollow wail filled the air.

Adem spun to see Wil and Arig easily cutting down the four magma soldiers with their enchanted bows—crimson and golden arrows flying to blast the figures into piles of molten slag—but they were just a distraction.

Demonwolves charged in from all sides! Tanriel's Flame Spears touched ground all around them; a diamond of orange flames surrounded them in ten feet high sheets! Wil shouted, 'Bran!' as Llew and Arawn rushed to confront two of the Wolves; blades hacking with ferocity. Bran appeared before a third, the Battle Angel wielding an emerald spear; plunging it into the chest of the beast. Shienden cut off the charge of two Wolves with a spray of orange flames.

Adem raised his fists to wield twin Spears that struck the two Wolves closest to him. The Wolves blazed with light; bursting into swirls of dust and fire, when Adem noticed the last of the pack, lunging for them, from his right. A bolt of golden and aqua flame sliced through the path of the beast, Dis Pater and Balor appearing on wings of flame: planting their axe blades in the creature's skull. The three skidded through the dirt, as Adem saw another thick white bolt of lightning, launched from the sky: striking the earth a few feet before his path.

A blue robed figure appeared—eyes of white lightning with a flowing white beard and long moustaches, wielding a wooden staff—as blue bolts of flame burst from his form to move in four directions at once! The lightning struck the Demonwolves—as bolts of fire also launched sideways from the chests of the Battle Angels, crimson, golden, emerald, aqua and violet bolts! Adem realised they were forming a Link with this wizard figure. A surge of teron flowed through his veins; electricity at extremely high voltage. The Demonwolves were halted in their tracks—the bolts striking them in the skull like a massive fist—as they began to explode in bright blasts of fire and ash, their howls drowned out by the roar of thunder that ripped through the air. Adem and his friends stared awestruck at the figure, as the Battle Angels formed a defensive circle around them.

The howl of the cougar sounded to his right, and all turned to see the creature charging. Shienden sprayed the beast with flames. Shadowhunter charged to bite down on its neck: dragging it sideways. Another bolt of lightning launched from the heavens: striking the creature in the shoulders. Fire Pythons tore into its shadow flesh; thick blue-white bolts with snapping jaws. Coloured bolts also flew from the bodies of their Battle Angels—as Bran, Llew, Dis Pater, Balor and Arawn rushed to hack at the cougar's flesh with their enchanted blades—adding their strength to the Elemental Attack. The creature shuddered; then collapsed. Its form was blasted into a cloud of golden ashes.

'Who are you?' Adem asked the man. When the blue robed figure replied, he sounded like a High-Servant, his voice resonating like thunder, though there was warmth in his tone, as he said, 'My name is Gwydion. You awoke me with your Odin Spears.'

Adem looked to his companions' startled expressions. There was a flare of light and another rumble of thunder, and when he looked back, Gwydion had vanished! Adem created Portal-Magic to land them before Fien's riders. They had slowed their pace after realising the danger was gone. Seven Green Men stood twelve feet tall on either side of the riders' flanks, the vine and leaf woven sentinels still showing evidence of the curse on terael. Adem saluted the great captain and created a Portal-Spell to carry them back inside the city, transporting them inside the second courtyard which would bypass Carl's Portal-Magic. He created another smaller one for himself and his companions to reach the outer wall of the city, while the riders poured through the larger Portal-Spell. He did not want to risk the chance that there were more enemies out there, in the darkness.

Carl woke three days later, famished and full of health. Adem had stayed by his bedside during most of that time, watching over his friend with deep concern; sacrificing his own much needed rest while waiting for Carl to open his eyes again. When he did, they looked at each other and laughed, bright eyes and brave smirks, as if it were all a game of fun despite the risks. The Battle Angel Gwydion visited Adem in Carl's chamber many times during those days of waiting also.

It was a strange thing to comprehend. Before Gwydion had appeared before them on the fields that night to lend his aid in combat, the Magician God—as he was also known—had been housed in a Resting Point in a small forest in Torvis territory and had been there under the care of a small clan of Wood Kin for well over a thousand years. As the man explained on his many visits to Adem, he had suddenly been awakened from rest by Adem wielding those Odin Spears.

But it was more than this. Adem had discussed it many times with Elarja, as they both considered that this was related not only to the rebirth of the dragon, Shienden, and his power increasing the strength of all magic, but it was also possibly related to the time rift, relating to the Time Stones, and Jinn-Magic on teron. Their theory was, that these combined elements in play, had altered the Battle Angel Gwydion, releasing him from his Resting Point, but also bringing back much of his Magic of the Old Ways, from those ancient days when the Great Angels were rulers of the skies, earth, wind and waves.

Gwydion had explained his view of this as much the same to their own theories, admitting that he now resided in the High Realm once more, and was in contact with Odin there, insisting that he could guide Adem and his companions in their inevitable confrontation against Jinn-Fendinn. To prove this was so, Gwydion also brought Adem a gift, two golden gauntlets—encrusted with emeralds and rubies—that were explained to be incredibly powerful talismans, known as the Fists of Odin.

Adem had not yet had a chance to test the weapons, but he was assured by Gwydion they would be pivotal to his hopes of facing Fendinn in battle. 'They may also hold a key to your aims of discovering a way to imprison the Enemy in Kerak'Otozi,' the bearded man had claimed. Adem could sense great power emanating from the gauntlets, and he trusted Gwydion's word that they would be of use to him. Adem also questioned the man as to why Odin was not appearing before Adem during any of these visits, and Gwydion replied, 'Odin is resting in the High Realm. He is preparing for the time when His strength will be required in battle. You will know when it is time to summon Him to your aid, then—while wielding Angel-Magic of the Fists—all you need do is call on Him, and He will be at your side.'

'It's that simple?' Adem asked half in shock. 'If that is true, what's to stop me from summoning him to help any time I feel I'm out of my depths?'

'He will meet your summons if you call, but I must warn you, you should only call on him at the hour of greatest need. If you expend his strength before it is truly needed, you will have wasted the potential of your greatest ally.' As Adem turned back towards Carl—a day before he woke—Gwydion vanished again with the now familiar flare of light in the corner of Adem's vision and a soft rumble of thunder as the stone walls seemed to tremble. Adem had caught a glimpse of Gwydion, once, during those moments, seeing the figure rise in a flare of luminescence and vanish before hitting the ceiling. Returning to the High Realm, it had to be a sign that things were improving!

Adem accepted Healing-Magic three times a day since his return. Lydia performed the task before breakfast and after supper, and Jean had volunteered to see him before lunch each day. Adem had suggested to Jean that she could switch to the evening shift and then they could spend more time together. Jean had grinned at that but said no more, her boot heels clipping the stone paving as she moved towards the door. Adem found himself admiring her curves in her red woollen coat, white trousers and crimson leather boots. Isabelle joined him immediately after, and stayed for a private lunch, in his bedchambers, where she talked of her delight at becoming a mother: allowing him to feel the baby kick. As fatherhood drew nearer, he became more expectant, and hopeful, even delighted at the prospect of knowing his son. But they would likely be leaving soon, and the boy would have to make his own way in this world, without a father to teach him how to grow to be a man.

On the fourth day, a messenger arrived. It was a werewolf, though thankfully he arrived in human form. At first the man was arrested, although he came peacefully, and Adem agreed to meet him while the man was under heavy guard. The werewolf managed to get Adem's attention when he insisted, he knew of the fate of Serock. When the man—Kaiglen—told his tale of Serock's capture, Adem was at first sceptical, though Kaiglen insisted that Serock had assured him Hayley Martyr would promise sanctuary to any Nightwalker or werewolf who offered to serve her. 'You said Koncha was able to overpower him?' Adem asked. 'How is that possible? Serock was still stronger than me in some ways. I have heard Koncha is weak in Angel-Magic. Why should I believe you?'

'Koncha has been gifted an artefact by another of the Hex-Warlords. It gives him control over Serock, but it also makes Koncha a very powerful wielder. Before then, it is true that he was not gifted in what little use of teron he'd gained since becoming a Nightwalker. Now he is perhaps strong enough to destroy even you, Adem Highlander.' The dark-haired man had an honest look about him, and his tone did not suggest any lies that Adem might detect. His Battle Angels agreed that the story seemed plausible, though all advised caution against any attempt at rescuing the former Vampire-King. 'Why do you bring me this news?' Adem asked.

'I fled my Coven to bring you word of Serock's capture, but I also decided I wanted to serve the All-Father. Serock was able to help me see reason. There is no hope in a bloodbath, only death and destruction. In the end, we would end up destroying ourselves too. I want a chance to seek forgiveness for my crimes. Shall I swear an oath?' Adem glared at the dark eyed figure probingly, before waving the offer aside, saying, 'Save those for when you meet Hayley. She enjoys them to no end. You may go.' He then ordered that the man have his armour and weapons returned to him, and that he be taken before Hayley Martyr to join her Coven.

The Martyr Coven ... an army of bloodsuckers and man-eating dogs!

Later that day Adem received a report from the northern region of the West Lands. That area stretched almost as wide as the Free Lands, and there were many keeps, holdfasts, villages and farmlands, mostly inhabited by the Viking invaders who had settled in those territories over thousands of years. This report stated that these invaders had returned, on great ships bringing thousands of the tall muscular warrior men, with some women and children, though mostly it appeared to be an army sent to claim new territory, slaughter innocents and wreak havoc.

The coastal keeps in that region had been taken easily by the enormity of the invading armies. The occupiers of some were of the same ancient blood, and the reports said they opened their gates and welcomed the invaders like long lost brothers. That meant their forces would swell as they gathered more of their kind, moving through the farms and villages; heading east. There was some resistance by the Free Landers of that region, holdfasts including Denrolk, Turvahrine and Caldellum, had all sent skirmishes to delay their advance, but they were small communities compared to the size of this army, mostly they used scouts to report on the movements of the invaders.

Reports also stated that there were many wielders within this army, and they did not follow the decree. That would make things difficult, a force this size of Viking men skilled with the sword could be enough trouble for him to worry over. The fact that some of them could be very powerful wielders made tension start to build in his brow once more. He would need to face them, defeat them, and unite them to his cause if he wished to lead a strong enough army into the East Lands. This could delay things and could cost many lives. He found it strange that this should occur now and began to wonder at further manipulations by the High-Servants and their Hex-Keepers.

Preparations began soon after, messengers were sent on altherin horses to request aid from every city, keep and hold, recruiting every man fit enough to wield a spear or a sword, to march to the Borderlands and await the demon hordes that were sure to try to invade while Adem's back was turned. He realised this must all be a grand design, distracting the Sons and Daughter, while Fendinn moved his forces into position, to massacre the Free Landers. Adem would be ready, and he would put an end to this game.

He met with Tarz that evening as they prepared to leave the city. The rebels and Adem's army were gathered in the Royal Stables and surrounding stable yards, while Adem and Tarz walked under stone balconies in a chequered paved courtyard with fountains and gardens in the centre. The rebel leader was still a proud man, and Adem found it difficult to assert his intentions. 'Jean will require those names, Tarz. You will have to give them up eventually.'

Tarz marched in his black coat with a straight back, dark eyes staring ahead with a fixed focus of avoiding eye contact. 'I must protect my men from any harm wished upon them for what transpired that night. Do you know nothing of honour?'

'I see no honour in murdering women!' Adem snapped. 'Jean will demand justice, consider yourself lucky that her vengeance has been sidetracked by more pressing matters.' They walked in silence for a while longer, before Adem asked, 'Did you give the order to kill those Ael Tarael?'

'No, it was not me,' Tarz spoke in flat tones, though he sounded truthful.

'Then why risk your own neck to protect a few guilty followers? I could understand if you were trying to save your own skin, but murderers must face justice, Tarz! I don't understand your reasoning.'

'Like I said before, it is a matter of honour, a trust between me as leader, and those men who put faith in my leadership. If I allow my position to be manipulated, even by one of the Chosen, those men will begin to question my authority, and my honour in protecting those who serve.'

'Well, you understand that day will come when justice will be done, Tarz. Even if the Sons and Daughter are not here to enforce that justice, Jean will leave orders to see that it is so.'

'Then there may be further bloodshed. I'm sorry, but I must always do what is best for the Alit'aren. It has become a contest between us, the Ael Tarael and the Alit'aren. We will ultimately be united once more, or we will tear this world apart in our battles to defeat one another. They will try to force us into submission, but we shall not relent, so long as I am their leader.'

'You must work to make peace with the Ael Tarael! Perhaps turning over a few guilty men for the chopping block could spare many more lives, perhaps even saving this world when you put it in such perspectives.'

'Honour and trust, these are the vital qualities a leader must embrace and demonstrate. You will learn the truth of this, Adem Highlander. One day you will understand it as I do.' Adem sighed, wanting to voice his concerns further, anxious about enforcing his will against this man also. 'You have your orders,' Adem said. 'The Borderlands will support you, and you must use them to hold back the demon invasion. I'll send reinforcements as soon as I am able. I'm leaving you in command until then. Don't fail me, Tarz. I'm counting on you.'

The two armies departed soon after, Tarz and his force of ten thousand riders moving onto the fields first, heading south to meet with the other Borderland armies. Adem's force of five thousand riders left shortly after, using Portal-Magic inside the courtyard to transport them a great distance in one single step. He did not take them directly to the West Land region where the invaders were said to have landed however, he had one stop to make before then. He had not forgotten the oath given to him by the large warrior man named Hamdril Longtooth, and he thought it was about time he used that tool at his disposal, and all the other tools that were part of the bargain.

Chapter 15

The Honds

Adem approached the valley, where the invaders were camped. The campfires seemed to stretch on forever, over ten thousand warriors, spread across the landscape, that was several miles inland from the coast, where they had landed their great ships. With Angel-Magic in his veins, Adem could discern great detail even in the moonlight, the long-bearded men with their bell-shaped horned helmets; similar to the ancient Vikings from Adem's world. All were taller than the average mortal of the Free Lands, some standing taller than most immortals, over six feet six inches, broad shoulders, and deep muscular chests, with thick arms, capable of wielding their massive broadswords, and longswords, some with two hilts rising above their plated armour, or sheep wool jackets.

He also saw men and women amongst that army that were too big for his eyes to make sense of. They were easily twice the height and girth of the tallest looking Vikings, and Adem realised he was looking at real Giants! There were not many of them, even sitting they appeared taller than their companions standing next to them, armoured or clothed in leathers and furs, the women were beautiful—odd as it was to feel that way about such alien sized figures—the men deep muscled with fierce eyes and forked beards. His focus fixed on two female Giants who were sitting by a campfire. They had suddenly noticed Adem and his companions. One was golden haired with clear blue eyes, the other with jade green eyes and dark curls. It was strange, but they looked just like ordinary women; their size only seemed to increase their beauty, and the measure of their spirits.

The Giant women began to shout in a strange tongue, Adem realising that it was similar to the ancient Nordic Tongue spoken by the immortals of the Free Lands. Commotion began to spread throughout that part of camp, as the Viking men—Adem now realising they were of the Honds clans as he made out their Five-Pointed Star on a Black Bear Claw sigil on armour and cloaks—looked towards Adem with caution in their eyes, seven tall men with long dark beards, and one with a thick grey beard who was likely their leader. What they saw was Adem on his black stallion, with Jean and Terese sitting their white and pale grey mounts to his right, with Wil and Carl to his left. Arig and Elarja sat their mounts on their left flanks, and Lydia, Elmira, Tobin and Orion to the right flank. Jean had managed to convince Hayley to remain at Orodhel with her baby, which also left a Battle Angel to watch over Isabelle.

So, there they were, eleven riders on a hillside, facing off against an army of more than ten thousand invaders, some of them Giants. The Honds began to bark with laughter, some of them pointing and slapping one another on the shoulders as they regarded their opponents as something that could be brushed aside without effort. Their laughter continued as Adem's force of five thousand riders approached the hillside behind them, showing their rows of spears and warriors armed with bows, swords and axes. It was true, if that were all they had brought to face this army, it would have been a massacre, even with the combined might of their Battle Angels. They had brought Gwydion with them however, which tipped the balance in their favour, and Adem was also wearing the Fists of Odin gauntlets, but he waited for his enemies to finish their jeering before he unveiled the extent of his planning.

In a link formed with Elarja, Arig, Carl and Wil, as well as Lydia and Elmira, Adem created the Angel-Spell, and two massive Portal-Spells of shimmering fire appeared to either side of their riders, spread across the face of the valley, where Hamdril Longtooth and his army of warriors poured forth; moving down the hillside in numbers close to four thousand men. Hamdril and his warriors were built like bears, most not as tall as these invaders, but equal in girth with wide muscular builds, shaggy beards and the fierce eyed look of hardened killers. The tribal tattoos many of the men displayed were akin to the designs of the ancient Scottish warriors, and indeed, these men that followed Hamdril were similar in appearance to those legends. Adem knew these men were also highly skilled in combat, and thirsty for a battle that could satisfy their bloodlust. As the bulk of Hamdril's forces exited the portal, the invaders had ceased to find amusement in what they saw, and many groaned and hummed like cautious beasts who had suddenly realised they may be outmatched. Adem doubted they were even slightly intimidated besides knowing this, as these invaders had a reputation in battle similar to the stories of real Vikings.

The front line of invaders began to blow on horns that sent alarms sounding throughout the camp, as movement flowed through their ranks showing men springing to their feet and reaching for their huge swords or two-handed axes or hammers. If it were a contest purely of muscle and sweat—combined with pure arrogance—Adem knew he still would have lost, and badly! He would have to make peace with these invaders if more were on their way across the sea. However, these he saw before him he would crush into submission!

Gwydion suddenly appeared—a thick bolt of lightning falling from the sky in front of Adem's stallion—in pale blue robes and a pointed conical cap with a wide brim. He gripped that twisted wooden staff, and as he gestured with arms wide, Adem, Carl, Wil and Jean all shouted the names of their Battle Angels. The seven male and two female Great Angels appeared in a flare of colour and light, as Gwydion's Magic flowed into them, most of it flowing into Arawn. Suddenly over three hundred fully grown male Lions appeared, formed of flesh and blood with thick shaggy brown manes, each almost twice the size of Adem's horse. The Lions roared as two hundred Shadow Hounds appeared within their ranks, baying at the moon with teeth like razor sharp steel, each one almost equal in size to the Lions. Llew unleashed a wave of lightning that became rows of Spirit Wolves numbering in the hundreds, and Balor's massive wolf of blue flames, Shadowhunter, also stood in line. Dis Pater, Angus, Tanriel and Anwen withheld the extent of their abilities, which would also conserve their ki'mera levels, but the nine Battle Angels hovered together amongst the Spirit Wardens, each one pulsating with bolts of lightning; crimson, golden, emerald, aqua or violet.

It was a demonstration of the extent of their might, and Adem believed it had the right effect. The Honds suddenly appeared cowed in the face of such beasts; the unified hum in their throats now sounded like confessions of woe. Adem knew they would still attack; these men were filled with pride beyond reason; their violent natures were instinctive.

Adem sent Martha Skongrarth—Jean's sword trainer—to try to reach a peace agreement with their leaders. She went ahead into the valley with a guard of seven men, and the tall Viking woman spoke in her native tongue to a tall grey bearded Hond leader for several minutes, until their gestures became aggressive and their voices started to rise. The Hond leader then struck a backhanded blow to Martha, which seemed to only make the woman madder, until another black bearded Hond put her to her knees with a punch to her stomach. Her Nordic guards were rushed by Honds who butchered them in moments as the leader swung his massive broadsword; her head falling from her shoulders in a red spray. Jean shouted in disgust, 'That cold blooded bastard! I'll fry his ass!' A bolt of lightning launched from the sky to strike the leader, but the attack bended around him, a shield proving he was either a wielder or protected by one.

Adem and his companions had already prepared Shield-Spells, just as a flash filled the sky of hundreds of blazing blue bolts falling upon Adem and his ranks! There were many wielders in that army! The Honds began to charge, roaring with fierce battle cries with their weapons raised high. Adem and his companions gave a mental command to their Battle Angels, and the Lions, Hounds and Wolves attacked, charging through the enemy ranks to bite men in half or shred them with claws. In a matter of seconds over a thousand men had died, and these Spirit Wardens could fight for at least another half hour. If the invaders did not surrender soon, none would survive. It pained him to see such devastation of human life, and Carl would not approve of this either. But when he looked to his friend, he saw only rage in his eyes, as if seeing Martha killed so mercilessly had made Carl decide that some men deserved to die.

Those lightning attacks by the Honds would normally have cost Adem significant casualties. There were not enough wielders in his army to protect such large numbers; he'd miscalculated there by underestimating how many wielders would be amongst the Hond ranks. However, with Gwydion lending his Angel-Magic to the other Battle Angels, Bran, Angus, Dis Pater, Tanriel and Anwen were able to create massive Shield-Spheres to protect everyone from that potentially devastating attack. The lightning had surrounded those Shield-Spells in a massive arc like blue burning claws, as thunder tore the heavens that sounded like a massive explosion. Horns sounded from Adem's army, and Hamdril's warriors charged forward, a wave of burly muscle and swinging steel clashing with the might of the Honds. Yet his enemies were already diminished greatly by the Spirit Wardens, the beasts ploughed through their ranks still, roaring and howling with wicked bloodlust as men fell screaming in their wake.

Tanriel hovered in the sky on wings of blue flame, hurling down a Flame Spear that split to become twenty; planting blade down amongst the enemy ranks. Fire erupted from those Spears in massive orange sheets that stripped flesh from bones turning hundreds to dust and vapour, the scent of burnt flesh filled the air. Arawn, Dis Pater and Math Mathonwy charged forwards, slashing through the enemy ranks with their blazing weapons, a charge of Angel-Magic unleashed with every strike in flares of golden or crimson Fire. Where those three fought, the enemy defences buckled, body parts flying in the wake of their massacre. Further out, the Honds were fighting back, some striking heavy blows to the Lions and Hounds across their skulls or hides, though this would only drain the ki'mera of each Spirit Warden, they could not be stopped until their Battle Angels had to rest. Another row of Flame Spears struck the earth deeper within the Hond ranks, sheets of orange flame exploding in an X axis from each Spear, turning bodies to charred and congealed lumps of flesh.

Suddenly the sounds of battle changed, and the Honds were starting to fall to their knees and chant. Adem realised that it was a song of surrender. Adem and his companions called off their Spirit Wardens, though the Lions, Hounds and Wolves still prowled the fields within the enemy camp while the Honds raised their voices higher in the chant as they bowed their heads, on bended knee, and planted their blades in the soil, gripping hilt or handle as their voices resonated through the air, even drowning out the steady growls of the beasts that had cowed them into admitting defeat. The battle had cost the Honds dearly, yet Adem had increased the strength of his forces considerably. With the Honds and Hamdril's warriors united, he would have an army suitable for confronting Fendinn at Kerak'Otozi. He hoped negotiations would be short.

He felt Jean's anguish over Martha's death. Elarja could intervene to bring her back, as they had done with Kelderath, but a rescue would be difficult with so many witnesses, and she would also be hunted by Calliach. He wondered then when he would see the Angel of Death again, not soon he hoped. At this time, he also noticed that the two female Giants had survived; something that seemed impossible given that they were in the front ranks that had been swarmed by Lions, Wolves and Hounds. They were also down on one knee, heads resting on the hilts of their swords that were planted blade down in the soil. When they glanced up to regard Adem, they had a fierce look to their eyes, as if they were too proud to admit defeat, though he glared back at them and soon saw their expressions change back to submissive emotion.

He turned to Jean to say softly, 'I'm sorry about Martha, Jean, really I am. I wish there was something more I could've done to try to save her.'

Jean sniffed with a hard glare towards the fields of slaughtered men as she replied, 'We were all quite capable of doing more, Adem, but it is too late now. Many have died today for a greater cause. I just hope it is all worth the sacrifice.' Adem nodded his agreement; then looked to the fields with a nauseous feeling. He also hoped that the end result made all of this bloodshed worth it!

We're still all just pawns in his game, he considered. Well, I intend to defeat him at his own game! To his surprise, Arawn offered words of wisdom through the kigare in response to the rage that burnt in Adem's soul. Take heed, Son of Odin, for if you become too mad with passion to defeat your enemy, you may lose more than just the soldiers who fight for you, you may also lose the part of yourself that really matters.

Adem considered those words, before asking: What part is that?

There was a long silence, before Arawn replied: Your ability to judge worth in sacrifices such as these. The part of you that knows there must be a better way. The part of you that feels so sick, as you do now, when you see such waste of human life. Be warned, it was because of men using the Great Angels to slaughter their own kind, just as you have done here, that resulted in the Great Angels refusing to aid mankind in battle, long ago. If we see too much of this desperate use of our abilities, your Battle Angels may even abandon you, Adem Highlander.

Adem suddenly saw the shame of the act he had convinced his friends to commit to. He felt waves of emotion take over; ashamedly disgusted with himself. I'm so sorry, Arawn, to all of you. This was my fault. Please, forgive me. Forgive my friends for trusting in my decisions. I see the truth now; there must have been another way.

There was no reply, only the sense of a Lord of the Underworld's passionate rage, a heart of ice descending in pits of flame. He sensed the same from all of his Battle Angels, the combination of Jinn-Magic and their newfound disgust at Adem's rash decision to use them as a weapon of mass destruction. He also began to sense great unease in Carl, Wil and Jean, as he realised they too must have received similar counsel from their Battle Angels. How could they be so blind? This act threatened the safety of all of Kismeria. If their Battle Angels abandoned them now, there was no hope of facing Fendinn.

The forces were transported back towards the Green Border over the next three days, sending them in smaller groups, with the Honds under heavy guard, in case they tried to go back on their oaths. They knew the Common Tongue spoken by most Free Landers, with thick accents similar to men from Sweden or Denmark, and their leaders swore to serve the Sons of Odin till death, though whether that meant until their deaths, or the death of the Sons of Odin, Adem wasn't certain.

As the armies began to gather across the Borderlands, Adem and his friends made visits to the Academies that were mixing up medicinal remedies to combat the effects of Jinn-Magic. Remarkably, one man had found one that worked! He had been making similar potions for many months now and had recently stumbled upon a new preparation method that seemed to be the secret. Jean had most understanding of the Academies and financing their studies, though even she appeared shocked when the Druid told her how much it would cost to create enough of this medicine to outlast the approaching battles. Regardless of this, Jean sent the orders to empty the royal coffers throughout the lands if need be, starting with the great fortunes in Nordhel and Tarvel, which would put Jean in the bad books with many of the rulers, lords and ladies throughout this world.

When Adem questioned her on this, Jean simply replied, 'What other choice do I have?' Adem did not have any clever response to that, he realised there was no other option but to create the medicine and teach the method of preparation to the other Druid Chemists.

To speed up this process, Adem allowed a small number of Ael Tarael to learn the method of creating Portal-Magic, enough to aid in the production, finance and delivery of the new medicine, as Jean and the Sons would be too busy holding off the demons in the Borderlands. There was a risk in letting anyone else know the secret to bending space with Portal-Spells, though Adem agreed it was selfish to deprive these people of something that could save limitless lives in the right circumstances. He tried to tell himself it was the logical thing to do, given that if any of these women were in fact Shadowsouled, it was possible they could be taught the Angel-Magic by the Hex-Keepers or High-Servants anyway. Though that was less likely, he knew his enemies liked their secrets kept. They did not like sharing their powers either. Adem just hoped his desperation didn't backfire on him, his friends, or his future son.

They decided to teach a few Alit'aren the Portal-Spells also, to aid their defences on the Green Border. Seven male wielders were sent to recruit armies from each castle, hold, and kingdom throughout the Free Lands, leaving enough men to defend each territory; transporting the rest to the Borderlands.

On the seventh day at sunset, the demon armies flowed towards the mountain passes. Rivers of dark scaled armour and slick ebony hides, eyes glowing like liquid magma. The first attack brought over ten thousand Nymloc, Jacoulra and Boli-Kuldr pouring into Tohviendel's Path, a wide pass where it was guessed a large force would try to enter the Borderlands. Scouts on altherin horses that moved along the East Land sides of the mountains had reported swarms of demons moving towards that region. Adem sent those scouts himself, using Portal-Magic, and keeping those reports close to his chest, not trusting anyone other than those he had to.

Kelderath was one of those he had to trust, and the great captain worked miracles early on as the battle began to unfold. The white moustached man barked orders like a raging lion, his grey top knot swishing like a horse's tail atop his shaved scalp as he scanned the horizon from the saddle of his grey mare, sending forces on skirmishes, routing the enemy, crushing them like a vice. The old general forcing demons to accept that they were outsmarted by a keen mastermind of battle. His methods were victorious, within six hours; the first battle was nearly over, with fewer casualties to Adem's forces than even Kelderath could've estimated. The archers fanned out to the north and south, hammering the demons with waves of steel tipped arrows that fell like dark rain, as the heavy cavalry charged through the centre of the demon army from west to east, flanked by Aldebrands and Alit'aren forming linked Shield-Spells to buffer the advance of the charge, keeping the riders well protected from tooth and claw and demon magic that was thrown from scythe shaped staffs like crimson acid.

Flanking the riders further out were assaults by Adem and his Battle Angels. Carl and Wil simply sat back and watched for most of the first battle, as did Jean. Arawn, Balor and Llew, assisted by the Angel-Magic of Gwydion, were more than sufficient to purge the demonic plague. Wherever his three Battle Angels fought, Adem watched tornados of fire and lightning tear the demon army into piles of scorched flesh; bone, limbs and skulls flying in the wake of their massive weapons. They were ferocious in their attacks, as Spirit Wolves and Fire Lions surged alongside them, biting and shredding through demon flesh as the three formed a Link and lightning rained from the skies.

The first wave of demon forces was vast, but Adem's armies numbered close to ninety thousand immortals, and almost as many mortals, mostly common soldiers, but thousands were Aldebrands, Wood Kin, Archers or wielders, and amongst those wielders, most were Alit'aren, as the Seidr'tera and Aesir'Eron had mostly been left to defend city walls in case the Borderland defenders were overrun. Of course, even such vast numbers of mounted cavalry would still have difficulty taking down ten thousand demons, if not for Adem's Battle Angels, and their new secret weapon, the Honds.

He sent five thousand of the warriors into the front lines, with three thousand, of Hamdril's men, and whenever it looked like the warriors would be overwhelmed by the sheer size of the demon army, the Honds fought back with ferocious rage, roaring as their blades hacked through demon limbs and torsos with fluid lightning strikes. The Honds cut down five Nymloc for every man in a matter of seconds, moving on to the next three in another series of sword, axe or hammer forms that even put Hamdril's warriors to shame. They were a welcome addition to his armies, and he would not forget what he had seen here this day. These were adversaries he could never afford to underestimate again.

When the first battle was over, his warriors were allowed a few hours of rest, until the dawn, which was a red haze on the horizon, with the dark cloud cover over the Borderlands casting a grey shroud over the morning light. Then Fendinn sent the full force of his might pouring through Tohviendel's Path. Adem realised then, that the first assault had only been sent to tire out his forces, while the real attack was waiting beyond the mountains.

Tens of thousands of demons swarming like a dark sea of scales and plated hides, the roar that filled the air gave Adem a sinking feeling in his heart. The Ael Tarael exerted some strength in Angel-Magic to delay the demon advance, striking them with Fire-and-Lightning-Magic, making the earth heave under them as flames erupted ten feet high in the air and Fire Leopards tore through demon flesh. But it was futile to waste such energies, when the demons that fell were replaced by the masses that followed after; wave after wave of Boli-Kuldr, Nymloc, Jacoulra and Rahkwel, along with hundreds of Souljhin mounted on their midnight steeds.

Despite the waste of arrows, thousands of Archers rained dark shafts upon the demon advance within the mountain pass. They could regain supplies such as these through Portal-Spells, and if five arrows could be used to kill one Nymloc, or ten to seriously wound a Jacoulra, there was two less enemies to face on the battlefield. Adem then used the Fists of Odin for the first time, testing their might against the swarms of demons that had already made their way through the Path. They were still closed in on both sides by gigantic mountains that formed the Green Border, enormous dark masses of stone rising on the north and south of the Path forming an impassable barrier to herd the demons towards their destruction.

He had Archers, Wood Kin, Aldebrands, Alit'aren, soldiers and cavalry penning the enemy in from the north and south, as Kelderath had ordered, but they were just there to draw the demons in like liquid through a funnel. Adem unleashed the might of the First-Born Great Angel. Now was not the time to ask for Odin to appear; Adem knew he would face much larger demon hordes before this battle was done. He could however utilise this great gift; the twin gauntlets glowing bright golden as he reached for teron; ecstasy and evil flooding his veins.

A pathway of blue Fire-Magic erupted through the demon ranks, ten paces wide and twice that height on both sides, fountains of raging energy tearing through that dark sea of scaled flesh like a blazing Spear of Odin, each explosion sounding like the roar of a thousand lions! He struck again, and again, twin pathways of blue flames blasting demons into ashes, blood and bone amongst flying limbs and severed skulls!

The Fists of Odin were a very powerful weapon, Angel-Magics were wielded with ease, his ability heightened to such an extent that it required much less ki'mera than he would have guessed for such an assault. He wielded the spell for Lightning Hail; vast surges of Angel-Magic flowing through his core. His heart felt like a glowing beacon in his chest, he felt illuminated, yet the pure fires of teron were this time corrupted with ten times his normal sense of Jinn-Magic. He would need that medication.

Fortunately, he and his companions had brought supplies of the first batches with them, and he took a moment to sip the potion that was contained in a small gourd at his waist belt. The effect was almost instantaneous! He felt fatigue and nausea wash aside under the potent elixir's enchantment. His madness was also washed aside, his symptoms of paranoia, rage, bitterness and contempt, he felt the tension ease in his brow. Druid Chemist Evolo Marzosiel must have been a genius of this Age, to discover so perfect a cure for a dark curse upon the human mind, and Angel-Magic itself. He laughed with teron flooding his system, and for the first time, with the elixir in his veins, his soul was able to sense Angel-Magic as a pure source of energy, separating his senses from the foul toxins of Jinn-Magic. It was a truly magnificent experience!

Lightning Hail fell in a raging shower upon the demon hordes, fists of blue fire hammering his enemies into the earth, tearing off limbs and burning holes through their horned ram and bull skulls. Archers released waves of arrows to harry the front enemy ranks, halting their advance while Alit'aren prepared shields to defend the front lines. Every Alit'aren also had a portion of the miracle cure in their possession, but they were told to wait for Adem's signal before they were allowed to use it. There was not enough prepared to spare any for the Aldebrands, however, Adem had sent for thousands of Lukrorian Bows to be brought by wagon through Portal-Spells as soon as they could be gathered. Already those that had arrived were being shared amongst the Aldebrands within his ranks, and when the next batch of elixir arrived, he would allow them to wield arrows of flame once more. He hoped it arrived before nightfall, or his forces would have to begin their retreat.

Once the Alit'aren had wasted their strength in this confrontation, the demon armies would still pour forth, through this Path and other passes along the Borderlands. It would be a method of retreat and fight back, flee and harry the enemy, cut out their stamina, and flee again. Meanwhile, Adem would need to move a force directly to Kerak'Otozi; he knew his hopes depended on being there when Fendinn broke free from his Resting Point. He still had no idea how to seal the Jinn-Lord within Kerak'Otozi. He hoped his new friend Toll held that secret somewhere in that old mind of his. He would have to return to him soon to discover whether Toll had remembered something vital.

Lightning Hail changed into Lightning Storm, hundreds of thick bolts falling every second to vanquish demon bodies in pillars of flame. Crimson and golden fire blossomed on either side of the demon hordes, Carl and Wil adding some strength to his attacks, the three of them joined in a link. They too had taken a swig of the mind healing potion, and they would also be revelling in its effects.

The demons began to roar with outrage, their front lines charging forwards; a terrifying plague of corrupted souls thirsty for blood and carnage! Adem emphasised his voice with Angel-Magic to shout, 'Shields!' Kelderath had shouted the command from his saddle close to Adem a moment before, and then the word, 'Archers!' Arrows filled the sky as the Alit'aren formed their Shield-Walls of blue light, a large barrier protecting the warriors ready to defend. They would not hold for long against such numbers, and Adem began to wonder at Kelderath's plans. He looked to the aged general to see his eyes shining as he shouted further commands to his gathered captains, the riders charged off heading for the north and south, to join the warriors penning the enemy in from both sides.

The demons had reached the Shield-Walls long before then, and a fierce battle erupted amongst the immortals, Torvellen and Nordics mostly, with a few thousand Honds and several hundred of Hamdril's men reinforcing their lines. Adem's enhanced vision and hearing detected the conflict there, screams, roaring of beasts, flickering steel blades cutting through scaled hides and armour, sounds of swords clashing as the Boli-Kuldr, Rahkwel and Souljhin joined the battle lines. The shields held for now, and demon bodies were cut down like a field of corn, blood soaking the dry earth, however, they were losing ground every time as the demon bodies were soon piled so high and thick they could no longer swing their weapons freely without a retreat.

It was during the first retreat when Adem sent the signal to the Alit'aren—a blast of crimson flame arcing high over the demon hordes—telling them it was time to drink the potion. Their orders after that had been explained days before, and Adem grinned as he watched the plan unfold. The demon advance was suddenly halted; the front lines were struck with thousands of thick bolts of blue lightning, the bolts becoming Fire Pythons that chewed through demon flesh to split into many beams of light, blasting demons to smoke and ashes! At the same time—further back within the enemy ranks—fountains of red fire erupted from the earth, blasting twenty feet into the air, tearing up demons like a raging red dragon! From his mount, Adem clearly saw Fire-Magic flying from the fists of Alit'aren serving on the front lines, beams of light in neon blues, reds, emerald and golden or even burning silver cutting a path through demon ranks like massive blazing blades! Thousands died in seconds, scorched congealed husks piled high as those behind them tried to make it past the wrath of Alit'aren returned to full health!

During this time, Adem led the retreat back far enough to reach a raised vantage point where they could form pike lines reinforced by Archers, Agnars and, of course, the might of male wielders. Within a few minutes the demon army had halted completely, and most were desperately attempting to escape the devastation. The Alit'aren began to move back at a steady trot, always with a number of wielders watching the demons as the others ran. They were not all immortal wielders on the front line, which required a slower retreat as the mortals moved at a comfortable pace. This was the temporary plan, devised by Kelderath, as the old general knew that these wielders would be able to take care of themselves better than any guard of soldiers could hope to achieve. Later they would need a guard and horses ready, as the length of their retreats would increase in unison with the swelling size of the demon army. This took away the need for more Portal-Spells, for the time being anyway.

Kelderath had many retreat positions marked on his maps, and there were reinforcements and supplies set up before and at each location as far west as Nordhel. If the demons got past those defences, things would start to get very messy. Farmlands and villages covered most of the Free Lands anywhere west of Nordhel, along with the major cities and holds that would also need to defend their walls when the enemy arrived at their doors. With such a short time between the warnings and the need for those farmers and villagers to reach safety in the cities, this situation had the promise of a massacre on a scale not seen since the Bone Wars. He would have to find a way to stop that from happening. It was his duty to preserve every human life possible. He considered the irony of the fact that only a week before, he had ordered the slaughter of thousands of Honds. With his madness washed away by the miracle cure, he suddenly felt overwhelming anguish over his actions. How would he ever repent for this? He felt certain that his soul would surely burn in eternal hellfire.

***

Calliach—also known as the Angel of Death—appeared in the dark panelled chamber before those others who he had summoned to this meeting. Calliach did not particularly care for taking sides between the All-Father and Jinn-Fendinn. He simply maintained the balance between life and death, the spirit world and the world of the living.

He did not particularly care much for this war, that had gone on since before even Calliach was imagined into being by the Creator. The Lord Creator had seen that there would need to be a Great Angel that served the purposes defined by Death's role in the world. He was the Chief Executioner; the Floating Dagger above the skulls of mankind. He was everywhere and at the same time nowhere, a skulking predator hell bent on rendering his prey of the souls that their flesh housed, dropping their skin and bones to the earth to become carrion for the ravens, and passing that immortal spirit on to either Heaven or Hell. Some remained in the Middle Realm, wandering as ghosts to haunt deserted ruins of ancient civilisations, though they were few compared with the Angels and Demons that swarmed in both the High and Low Realms. Those were armies amassed over hundreds of thousands of years of battles, war and conflict that saw even the mighty immortals stripped of their former ranks.

Calliach remembered well those early days, during the First Age and the Age of the Immortals, when war between mankind and demons was ever more frightening and extreme, yet the immortals were equally strong as those ancient demons, if not more so, and their numbers swelled as their long lives and proficiency at breeding saw tens of millions of immortals alive all at once, yet that was a small number compared with the souls that had actually died in wars and now existed in Heaven. Calliach now knew the High-Jinn had obtained a mighty brew of souls of his own, as the Creator was not forgiving to those humans who sought out the path of evil. He cast those unfortunates down into the depths of Hell at their time of passing, and Calliach had been there to see them all step from life, into death, before that fate was sealed.

This was his purpose; this was why he was first imagined and then designed into his shape and form. Balance; he maintained it. Like the harvester reaps the corn in the field, so too did Calliach sweep clear pathways of humankind, using the Gift granted by the Creator, the Angel-Magic of Death.

For this very reason did the Creator grant Calliach with his Gift in the shape and image of a wreathing scythe, as the Lord had seen the future of his work and the men and women who would work the fields with such a tool. So often throughout history had Calliach's image—a human skull for a face and a harvesting scythe held in a hand of bone—in his cloak of shadows been portrayed as being so feared and so dreadful, yet to Calliach, these were all symbols he felt should be revered in honour, for they were the images of his Angel-Magic and his duty to the designs of the Creator. For, there was an ultimate plan for Kismeria, and for all worlds, known only by the Lord God, and seen only by Him. For this reason, was Calliach made, to serve the Lord in this great scheme of Ages.

This was the dilemma caused by Adem Highlander's intervention between Calliach and his prey, Jothar Kelderath. Jothar had evaded Calliach, with Highlander's assistance, but Death would reach the old general, and restore him to the Harp of Souls. This was destiny, fate already written, also altered by the ever interfering Elarja RinHannen! Calliach had dealt with Elarja's games many an Age ago, cutting down those lives Elarja had rescued through time, Calliach restoring the balance, as was his duty to the Creator, as the Lord God was still his Lord and Master, and the Gift was granted to Calliach so that he would be the doorway between the living and the dead. Without Calliach's presence at the time that a life must end, they could not die, which was the dilemma.

Adem Highlander had greatly wounded Calliach with that Odin Spear. The result was that Death could no longer attend his normal duties; people were just not dying like they used to. He could maintain his Angel-Magic most times, and balance was maintained, but Calliach feared the Creator's wrath when the balance was more greatly upset during these coming wars. At times it would benefit one side, good; and other times the other side, evil, but one thing was certain, there would be future events where both demons and humans were so irreparably damaged that they must be destroyed—by Angel-Magic or cut down with blades or shredded by claws—yet without Calliach to guide them into death, they would survive. These events would seem impossible to those who witnessed them, and knowledge would grow that Death could no longer touch the world as he once had.

For this reason, Calliach saw his one duty assured, he would end the life of Kelderath first and foremost! Highlander's interference irritated Calliach to such an extent that he would end his life also, if it were within his capacity, yet he was bound by the Laws of Fate, and slave to the will of the Lord. His Gift did not allow him to take lives by his own will and ambition, he could only serve as the doorway for those who were killed by others or who were sick and could not receive a cure, or who had reached an age where they could no longer survive—as was always the case with mortals.

He would get Kelderath—he felt overwhelming agitation at the thought of not yet being successful at getting him—and he would use these newly made associates to meet his aim. In the same room of elemental fabrication—that glowed with a pale crimson light that reflected off the dark stained wooden walls—stood three of those highest in the ranks of Jinn-Fendinn. Masked figures in dark cloaks, he would join forces with these High-Servants to see that balance was restored. He anticipated with ravenous glee the look of dread he would see in Kelderath's eyes when the end was near.

***

Kelderath rode well behind the forces that he commanded into a charge, though he was himself a part of that massive spear of horsemen that carved a path through the demon horde, splitting or decapitating skulls, cleaving off limbs or trampling demon flesh into the dirt! He roared with the glory of the experience; he'd felt more alive since his escape from death than he could remember in all his years. Hooves thundered in his ears, demons roared as blades spun and cleaved, flickering with quicksilver motion like steel serpents to strike the beasts aside in spurts of dark blood! Kelderath loved a good battle, and this one was shaping up to be the biggest challenge he'd ever faced.

There was no real risk in his joining the rear ranks of the charge, as he was riding twelve abreast on either side of heavily armoured Agnars and their mounts in shining steel, the length of the charge being over two hundred horses long, and once the middle had penetrated the demon wedge, the Alit'aren began to strike down around them with blades of lightning, blue bolts falling like a storm never before imagined—a thousand strikes every heartbeat—as the earth erupted in crimson blasts, further out, to greatly diminish any demon's hope of survival.

By the time Kelderath was in line with the demon hordes, he was surrounded by a sea of ruined flesh; dark scaled corpses as far as the eye could see. He was admiring the work of those that he led, when he noticed a number of the demon forms still twitching. This did nothing to deter his confidence, and they rode onwards as the skies lit up around him. He felt a shiver up his spine, however, when the sound of demons roaring like lions started up behind him in unison, only this was not the sound of a few demons; the entire horde had apparently come back to life! The riders on the outer edges were suddenly pulled down from their horses and torn to shreds in screams of terror! Hundreds died in moments, as Kelderath took another look around to better understand what had happened.

It was then that he saw the dark shadow cloak looming above a group of riders, the massive harvesting scythe glowing wicked blood-red, as it swung low, to pass through the forms of the men, only moments after they were pulled from their saddles by demon claws. Death had returned! Kelderath felt a sinking feeling; realising that Calliach had come for him most especially. He realised in those moments, that the reincarnation of the demons, must mean the Great Angel could not currently attend to all of his usual duties. Proof of this, was when the soldiers Kelderath had seen torn to shreds moments before, stood up whole and unharmed, wielding their swords like phantoms. Flicking dark blood into the air with every swipe of their blades, as demons surged around them like a sea of shadows. Was this the end? Arrogance returned to his visage, as he realised that for a time, he may in fact be immortal!

'Sound the retreat!' he roared at the top of his lungs. Horns began to sound, as the riders pushed hard, to split into two ranks, that circled back, around the edges of the charge, warriors cutting a path as the Alit'aren lent them lightning and fire. Some demons were staying dead, but most weren't, it was for this reason that Kelderath had to come up with another idea. The inside formation began to circle around to an about face and soon Kelderath was almost leading the charge into a retreat. He looked back over his shoulder to see Calliach swinging his scythe as riders were dragged into a dark abyss of teeth and claws. He wondered how many of his men would die and live to tell about it this day.

He tried to reason how he could turn this in his favour. It was an advantage to him that some of his men cheated death, but if the same effect occurred with the demons, the stamina of the enemy would surely outlast them. Blasts of crimson flame erupted all around him, men and horses obliterated in fire and smoke as screams of terror and agony filled his ears! His horse collapsed as if struck by the flames, and Kelderath went down with his mount; flying from the saddle. He landed face down in the dirt with incredible heat surrounding his body, he felt that his hair was about to be singed from his face.

Smoke filled his vision; a horse's head lay before him in a pool of blood. Two bleeding corpses with limbs torn free were lying to either side, his First Captain's, Leldok Arga and Kronu Bellinton. It was Kronu's pale nosed gelding—Bisari—that had been decapitated. He looked up to see Death hovering above him, the great crimson scythe about to sweep down and take out his victim. A blue bolt flew like an arrow to strike Calliach in the heart! The Demon Angel screamed, vanishing in a trail of smoke! Kelderath almost cursed while considering what future trouble that might cause, as he struggled to his feet, finding that he had a moment. When he stood, he was greeted by Leldok and Kronu, smiling with soot and blood smeared faces! They helped him walk back to his horse; surprisingly he had no broken bones from the fall and his grey mare was now recovered and stamping nervously. Bisari had also returned to life, though to Kelderath these things did not seem as strange as they should.

He looked to the skies to see the source of the blast that had caused such catastrophe. Three High-Servants were locked in battle with Math Mathonwy, Dis Pater and Arawn, flares of lightning and fire blasting from their enchanted blades as thunder tore the air. Hundreds of riders were forming a ring around Kelderath and his captains with thousands more still following further back. The attack had taken out over three hundred riders and their horses—estimated by the bloodied and ash smeared forms surrounding him—yet for now, there were no casualties! He returned to the saddle and led the charge towards Highlander and his ranks of defence. Kelderath was grateful for Highlander's assistance, but he wondered again with nervous irritation just exactly how wounding Calliach a second time would influence this imbalance of nature. They were pursued by the roar of demons thirsty for blood.

Chapter 16

Designs of the Shadow

Adem watched in horror, as more Hex-Warlords appeared in the skies, a total of seven dark cloaked forms, wielding swords of crimson flame. Bolts of wicked red launched from their blades: flying like spears, most striking shields as the Alit'aren formed defences. Yet three blasts ruptured within Adem's ranks, bodies exploding and screams filling his ears. Adem already knew many of those slain corpses would rise and fight again; he had seen the carnage on the killing fields further east, and he saw that Death had lost some of his grasp on the world. This created as many advantages as it did dilemmas. He considered that perhaps he'd acted too rashly to wield another Odin Spear against the Demon Angel.

He harnessed teron; waves of Angel-Magic flooding into his soul through the Fists of Odin, that glowed brightly on each arm. He pointed his right fist at Zefriok—a blood-red demon mask covering his ashen face—and a bolt of pure incandescent blue lightning flew to strike the Hellfiend directly in the heart! The blast knocked the figure out of the sky, falling in a blue fireball to crash into the earth in a spray of electric sparks. He thought his opponent might actually be dead, when the shadow figure rose from the earth a moment later to swing his blade; sheets of red flame slicing through the front lines of Adem's defences, penetrating Alit'aren Shield-Walls and slaying hundreds of warriors in a bloodbath. It was obvious that Calliach still had some influence left in this world by the fact that most of those men did not rise. Adem looked to Kelderath as more Shield-Spells protected them overhead from more blasts of crimson flame.

Kelderath gave the signal; horns began to sound to order a massive retreat. Adem wasn't about to turn and flee just yet, however. He ordered Carl and Wil to leave with the bulk of the forces, taking Jean with them under close watch. Before they left, all three men summoned their Battle Angels to take to the skies in combat with the Hex-Warlords. This provided the distraction and enough time for Adem's armies to escape, for now anyway. If he couldn't find a way to defeat the High-Servants and their Hex-Keepers, this was going to end in a total massacre of his forces.

With a few thousand warriors—including over fifty Alit'aren remaining—Adem drew even more deeply from the enchanted gauntlets; teron filling him with excruciating bliss that glowed within his psyche. With the miracle cure he sensed little if any Jinn-Magic, though he knew he would need more of the medicine after this desperate attempt. Invoking the Old Nordic name; Wings of Odin suddenly burst from his shoulders, rising out on either side of his frame, feathered wings of burning blue flames that flared brighter as he soared from the saddle and into the sky. He drew his sword, also glowing with pure blue light, the blade was made stronger by the Fists of Odin, but it was really just a method of blocking enemy blades when necessary.

He summoned Arawn and Balor to his side, the two Battle Angels circling his form as he soared towards Torkhan; the shadow cloaked figure raised a blade to clash with his own. Adem fought desperately through the sword forms to hold his defence, but a moment later Arawn locked blades with the figure—thunder and lightning tore the air—giving Adem the moment he needed. He flew back a few paces; then hurled a Spear of Odin at Torkhan. The blue bolt melted through his armour and flesh, flaring white hot in his heart as the High-Servant screamed in agony and terror. Using the Fists of Odin to increase the force of the Spear, he wondered if this would in fact destroy his enemy. Torkhan vanished in a warp of light and shadows before Adem could discern an answer, but he was certain he had caused a serious wound. Perhaps it was enough to disable the High-Servant for an extended period of time. In that same moment the other High-Servants also vanished.

He then signalled for the remaining forces to retreat, while he remained in the sky with the seven male Battle Angels. He rained lightning upon the fields of demons, using the Fists of Odin to create demolition blasts of energy within their ranks. Many that he attacked simply refused to die however, although they had been torn apart by the flames, moments before. The Battle Angels took to the fields, hacking and slashing as blood and limbs flew in the wake of their destruction. Sheets of fire launched from their weapons to slice through demon flesh, and perhaps it was Angel-Magic of the Great Angels that had some greater effect, but most of those demons stayed dead. Rivers of Fire Lions, Shadow Hounds and Spirit Wolves flowed within the sea of demon bodies—as Gwydion reappeared in a blast of lightning to lend his Angel-Magic to his Brothers—tearing off limbs and biting through horned ram and bull skulls with savage ferocity!

Adem revelled in the slaughter, no longer feeling pity for this filth that plagued the earth, however, within a short while he felt Angel-Magic begin to drain from his Wings. He was terrified he would fall, when Arawn grasped him by the shoulders, and carried him like a rocket across many miles, to return to his army. They were still galloping, yet at a pace that would allow the mortal horses to keep up. Their next point of defence was a few more miles west—towards the end of the mountain ranges that served as a barrier between the East Lands and Green Border—where they would use the rise in the landscape to form a wall of pike men, archers and blades. He hoped his enemies did not seize this opportunity when he was at his weakest.

***

Nodomi moved with stealth through the storeroom of pots and glass flasks, hunting for her prey like a sleek panther in its element. She wore a simple disguise via Angel-Spells of terael, giving her the appearance of a local servant girl, about twenty and five years by the smooth skin and bulging eyes she gave the illusion. The girl would appear dark of hair with large round eyes that shone like dark stones—though Nodomi was truly much more beautiful, with sparkling blue eyes and golden shining locks—in a simple brown skirt, and a short green coat, that covered the pearl white gown, beneath her disguise. Nodomi would not reveal herself to her prey; she would simply locate and destroy him and anyone who tried to intervene. This clever Chemist Druid had apparently concocted quite a startling discovery, a medicine that reverted madmen to pure sanity. This would cause trouble for her Master, the High-Jinn, which is why she had been ordered to kill this Evolo Marzosiel. She did not particularly relish being sent on such errands, as her wish was for power and immortality; she was not particularly fond of bloodshed, though she had been responsible for plenty during her many years in service to the Jinn-Lord.

The other Hex-Keepers were also busy working the same scheme in other distant lands, they had been ordered to strike hard and fast, cutting down every last hope their enemies would have of continuing to create a cure for Jinn-Magic infecting teron. Even now she guessed their work would be almost done, as they infiltrated the workhouses of these Druids. She considered a number of Jinn-Spells to use on the main target as she crept closer to the Druid's main laboratory, wondering which would be most effective to snuff out that flame that was such a threat to the designs of the High-Jinn.

She could have simply appeared within the chamber in her true form, done battle with those that opposed her, and taken out her target, yet Nodomi had always liked an alternative plan that required cunning, stealth, and of course disguises also, she had always had a fondness for a good disguise to sneak into an enemy's lair.

The door was guarded by two Alit'aren, who asked her what business she had with the Druid, and Nodomi replied with the confidence of one who knows her position, 'I bring a message regarding the gathering of herbs and other ingredients in the west. There will be a delay on the stores arriving unless I can speak with him immediately.'

'Who sent you?' the taller Alit'aren asked with a sceptical frown. 'Where are your papers?' She produced a note with the seal of a royal House that was overlooking the gathering of such ingredients; the knowledge of this arrangement procured amongst a few of her many spies within Highlander's ranks. The letter was forged, though Nodomi could imitate the script of any hand using magic of both mind absorption and letter formation. She gained the right to enter and was gathering her Jinn-Spells as she stepped through the doorway when a bolt of emerald flame struck her form, hurled by an Ael Tarael she had not sensed when approaching the chamber! Green flames encased her form, and Nodomi's disguise also dissipated in her state of shock. Her target, she realised, was not even present, and she wondered then—as she hit back with a bolt of golden fire that struck the dark haired Ael Tarael and flung her against the wall—whether they had sensed her in those moments and had him evacuated via their new discovery of Portal-Magic, or whether they had anticipated this and let her walk right into a trap?

Her Shield-Spheres were up as she turned to see the two Alit'aren with arms raised, she formed a Portal-Spell that carried her from the room as twin bolts of blue fire blasted towards her form. A moment later she stood in a cavern, dark stone walls with crimson fire glowing off the rock formations that closed in above her like dark claws. Nodomi realised in her state of panic that the High-Jinn must have brought her here! Her instincts had been to flee for safety, but perhaps she had not thought enough about a specific location which had allowed Fendinn to summon her through their connected Jinn-Magic. She clenched her jaw as a tunnel bored through the rock before her, opening to a platform before a pillar of flames that blazed as it changed colour from golden to violet, emerald, aqua and crimson, the Heart of Kerak'Otozi.

Nodomi stumbled towards the edge of the platform, those roaring pillars of flame scorching her flesh with raw heat, although it did not actually burn, but it was frightfully uncomfortable, and her skin was soon bursting with sweat from every pore. She waited, until the voice of the Jinn-Lord filled her mind, excruciating bliss and overwhelming pain filled her very soul.

NODOMI, YOU HAVE FAILED IN YOUR MOST IMPORTANT TASK! YOU DISAPPOINT ME! I EXPECT GREATER CAUTION AND MORE SATISFACTORY RESULTS, NEXT TIME.

Nodomi wondered at the tone of the High-Jinn, she had expected to meet with his absolute fury, though she sensed, perhaps, was it His fear? As if reading her mind, the voice continued.

YOUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS WERE MORE SUCCESSFUL. THE DRUIDS ARE NEARLY ALL DESTROYED, ALL EXCEPT FOR YOUR ONE FAILURE. YOU MUST GET HIM NEXT TIME, NODOMI. I REWARD THOSE WHO SHOW ME THEY CAN FOLLOW MY COMMANDS.

This news brought a mixture of emotions in Nodomi; again, she was amazed at the lack of threat in the promises of her Master. Yet she was truly elated to know that the other Druids had all been killed, the threat was nearly over, all except for one.

BUT FIRST, I HAVE ANOTHER TASK FOR YOU!

***

Serock lay in the chamber where he'd been a prisoner for—how long?—at least many months, the time seeming long even for his experience. He was on his back, staring at the darkness above as two of Koncha's brides sucked at his neck, occasionally licking the droplets of blood that oozed from the twin bite mark wounds on either side of his throat. They laughed with wicked lustful pride as they pressed their lips over the wounds and sunk their fangs into his flesh once more. How much longer would they do this? He had begun to wonder at the hope of being released by death, but that would likely only incur the wrath of another reincarnation, perhaps with his abilities further diminished. He would again become a hunted animal by his former Brothers, and a thing detested by those who called themselves Hex-Keepers.

Even now, this was his fate, and he realised how true that belief must be when a High-Servant morphed into being within the chamber, standing beside Koncha who sat reclined in his throne with that burning red stone in his grasp. The vampire leader often sat and watched his wives feeding, it seemed to excite the man, and he would then take at least one or maybe two of them aside to have his way with them. This always seemed an opportunity for escape for Serock, yet so far, he had never been strong enough to even fight off the bloodthirsty demands of the third bride, let alone try to create a portal to flee this dungeon. His oath to protect Hayley Martyr is what kept hope alive within him. He felt it was the only reason he had left to wish to be alive, to honour a promise. There was the fact that the girl reminded him of one of his long dead daughters also. But he could not think of that now, he concentrated on the voices of the two men.

'You have had an amusing time with your pet?' Drakrost Goblinking was heard to be saying. Amongst his Brothers, Drakrost had always been a clever schemer, and also a fine crafter of enchantments.

'Your device works well on him,' Koncha remarked. 'I wonder; can you provide me with more of its kind?'

'I provided the Stone so that you may control this wretch,' Drakrost's tone was crushing. 'You have your mission. Invade the Free Lands when the High-Jinn rises. You must begin preparations tonight.' The vampire leader tried to demonstrate composure, before the High-Servant vanished in a warp of Air-Magic.

Koncha remained seated for some time, that crimson stone burning in his grasp to illuminate his fierce expression. Finally, he stood, and taking his first bride by the arm he moved into the shadows; evidently, he would not heed his commands immediately, as groans of passion soon followed from the vampire woman. The other two still drained Serock of every drop of life with insatiable fervour. Yet Koncha had gone further than usual into the shadows to where his blanketed cushions lay, and this distance allowed some recovery for Serock, as the cursed Stone had stronger power over him depending on its proximity. He waited, meditating and gaining what strength he could gather while the two hungry she-devils continued to suck. Finally, he felt he had the ability to create a Portal-Spell, and he guessed this was his only chance, so with some degree of effort, he thrust his fists into the breasts of both women, forcing them off of him as they howled with wicked bloodlust. In the moment he was able to gain his feet, he created a Portal-Spell large enough to slip through sideways while crouching and almost falling into the space, though his escape was assured as he fell onto a patch of grassland that was covered in morning frost. He collapsed face down.

The amount of Angel-Magic necessary to create the Portal-Magic—even to carry him such a short distance of about five miles northeast of Morgrahl Kordahn—had been exhausting to what strength remained in him. So, drained of blood, he would need to find food and water and gain sufficient rest before he could wield to anything near his normal ability, but now that he had escaped that Stone, his Angel-Magic would return. His fear was that he may be still recovering when Koncha sent out the search party. A pack of werewolves could cross that distance in a short while once nightfall arrived. He forced himself to stand and began to stagger north in search of a farmhouse that could provide him with sustenance. If they learnt his true identity in his weakened state, they would likely drive a stake through his heart.

***

Rundel marched the hallways of the underground fortress, situated a few miles southwest of Tarvel. It was an ancient stronghold, built by one of the former races of immortals who were akin to the Great Angels of Stone. But that was of no concern to the aged mortal Alit'aren this day, his mind was set on getting word to Highlander that all but one of the Druid Chemists had been slaughtered in surprise attacks by the Hex-Keepers.

Behind him were two Seidr'tera, marching on either side of the only Druid Chemist left alive, the creator of the miracle cure. Evolo Marzosiel was likely a genius, for the potion had the potential to save the world from the curse upon teron. Rundel had taken an extra swig of the potion after creating a Portal-Spell to bring the Druid and his protectors to this secret location. The problem now was deciding if it was safe to alert Highlander to their current position. Even the Sons of Odin did not know about this underground chemistry laboratory: set up in secret in preparation for just such an eventuality. Jean Fairsythe had arranged the finances for such precautions to be made, but the location of these safe houses was kept a secret even from her.

The problem then was that the potion would still need to be delivered. The armies that fought on the Green Border and those that would fight further west of the Borderlands would be counting on the Alit'aren to defend them. Alit'aren continuing to wield Angel-Magic would be proof to Jinn-Fendinn that Evolo was still creating his miracle concoction to aid Highlander's armies. This would lead his Hex-Keepers on the trail of the delivery system for the medicine, who was sending it to where, and when, and from where did they arrive, and how? Rundel's certainty of Shadowsouled working as spies within these storehouses and delivery routes was the real concern on his mind, as these would be the ones to tell their enemies when and where and how.

He believed he had a trustworthy team assembled here, underground. So, for now they would keep Evolo under close watch as he continued to mix up the cure. Someone would need to alert Highlander of this issue very soon also, but Rundel could not spare any of the men that he felt he could also trust for the mission. The few male wielders Rundel had here at his disposal could not hold off a larger group of Hex-Keepers. That was a fact without even considering the possibility that they might send their full force of Hex-Warlords to finish their work.

Chapter 17

Battle Angels

Adem had little time to rest before the demon hordes reached their next point of defence. At this point the land still drew the demons together towards a group of hills, with enormous mountain ranges closing them in on either side like a funnel. The hillsides where Adem's forces were gathered were more than a mile wide, yet their warriors numbered close to three hundred thousand, immortal and mortal, wielders, Archers, Aldebrands and Wood Kin. The bulk of the immortal forces were Nordics, mostly from Nordhel and surrounding lands, though the Nordics of the northern Borderland Kingdoms were busy still defending parts of the Green Border further north of their location.

When Adem arrived, he was greeted by a force of nearly one hundred thousand mounted warriors, mostly mortals from lands west of Nordhel, though he was astonished at the sight of three individuals, who shone with such bright light and emanated such incredible might and majesty, that the only name he had to describe them was, demigods! A man sat between two females, the women both startlingly beautiful, both of average height for a mortal, one with hair that glowed like silver fire, the other with shining hair of gold. Both women sat upon horses of pale light as if they too emanated the Angel-Magic of their riders, though they were flesh and bone animals of altherin breed. The man sat atop a brown stallion, hair of golden light tied in a thick braid, he had two sword hilts sticking up above each shoulder of his dark-blue plated armour that shone like fire, and a third sword at his belt—Adem soon learnt the swords were named, Storm Fury, Fire Rage and Star Fury, as this figure was in fact Anann Lior, also known as the Battle Angel, Manannan Mac Leer. The golden-haired woman was Epona, the white-haired woman Maeve, both Battle Angels also.

Anann Lior spoke in a deep tone similar to immortals as he said, 'We were summoned by Gwydion to aid you in this battle, Highlander. We are glad to be of service in your efforts against a common enemy.'

'It is an honour to meet the Blue Water Dragon, in the flesh,' Maeve said with a lustful grin. Adem had heard tales about the Witch-Goddess from ancient legends—as well as information passed to him via Arawn—all of which described the woman as a powerful seductress, with a ravenous hunger for the pleasures of male company. Adem gave a short bow from his saddle.

'I will lend you my horses, Highlander,' Epona said in a courageous tone. Adem nodded again before he grinned and replied, 'I look forward to seeing what you are capable of.'

It did not take long before a demonstration became necessary, as the hordes that had travelled those miles west of the Borderlands now covered the land like a black sea that stretched into the horizon. Every kind of demon marching in ranks of black scythe blade wielding Boli-Kuldr, or Jacoulra and Nymloc simply armed with their fangs and claws, enough to strip flesh from bone in an instant. Even the dwarf sized Grimwel were marching in step with their seven feet tall cousins, the goblins armed with horned bows over their shoulders, a quiver at their hips balanced by a long knife or sword, while the taller Rahkwel wielded clubs, maces, axes or spears, garbed in coats, gauntlets and armour of greys, greens and browns. Adem observed such details from a distance with teron in his veins. He also sensed Jinn-Magic returning to Angel-Magic, his gourd of potion running low.

Before the demon army had closed a gap of three hundred paces between their front ranks and the hillside defences, Adem shouted, 'Arawn!' as Carl roared, 'Math Mathonwy!' and Wil shouted, 'Dis Pater!' In an instant the ten feet tall figures of Dis Pater and Arawn appeared in black plated armour, and the eight feet tall Math Mathonwy in his blood red cape and golden armour, wielding his massive crimson Hellfire Spear to release fifty great dark Shadow Hounds! Arawn and Dis Pater charged head on into the demon ranks, spraying flesh and blood in the wake of their crimson blade and golden axe, hewing a path of destruction.

Dozens of Fire Lions charged through the demon swarm, biting at skulls and tearing off limbs, as Dis Pater's Flame Crows swooped and pecked in a murder of over three hundred. The demons were not halted by this, despite the front lines suffering a swift massacre, yet it was what Adem saw next that caught him by surprise. Epona whistled high and clear, and from her white mare, the spirits of over five hundred pale white horses charged: forming a line of fifty abreast! The Spirit Horses impacted with the front demon ranks: stomped them into the earth in the wake of their stampede. Anann Lior drew his white shining blade, Star Fury, holding it aloft as a great light filled the midday sky—despite the heavy cloud cover that smothered the daylight—and the demons were immediately cowed, Boli-Kuldr and Rahkwel shielding their eyes as they were cut down by Arawn, Dis Pater and Math.

Thousands of Nymloc and Jacoulra began to burst into flames and were reduced to ashes in just moments! The light began to fade when Maeve raised both hands above her horse's head, moving them in circles in the air as blue fire began to dance on her fingertips. Suddenly a hail of blue fireballs was crashing down from the heavens, similar to Adem's Lightning Hail, only these attacks were multiplied by ten times or more in their number and size. His enhanced vision then noted that within each fireball moved a female figure wielding a sword of light. Blasts of flame ruptured within the demon ranks as blue lightning burst outwards in circular sheets, taking out a hundred demons for every ball of light that struck a demon or the earth. A moment later, all six Battle Angels formed a Link!

Lightning filled the sky, a rainbow of coloured bolts, a thousand falling every second to turn the grey haze into a bright neon flare. The storm clouds above churned into a great vortex, as the Shadow Hounds, Fire Lions, Spirit Horses and Flame Crows suddenly split to become hundreds of Spirit Wardens, totalling over three thousand in all! At this moment Adem clearly heard Jean shout, 'Tanriel!' and her female Battle Angel appeared at the peak of the vortex, her blue wings burning in the sky as she hurled down a Flame Spear that split to become one hundred Spears, striking ground within the demon ranks; sheets of orange flame melted demon flesh; ashes swirled amongst collapsing piles of scorched bones!

With the addition of Tanriel the Link was increased again, but none of them would include more of their Battle Angels at this point, as their efforts had barely made a dent in the demon swarms thus far—although they had taken out close to fifty thousand in a matter of minutes. Adem was very glad to see one important fact; so far, these demons were also giving up the ghost. It was when they started getting back up again that he would need to retreat. Their next point of defence was a twenty feet high stone wall that ran for over a mile and a half between the mountain ranges that closed in around this funnel shaped gap in the landscape. They would need to hold that position to ensure the safety of the people of the Free Lands; he would not allow the slaughter of so many innocents.

With the lightning storm filling the sky and Tanriel's Flame Spears falling fifty to a hundred every few seconds, Adem formed a link with Carl, Wil and Jean, and he summoned what Angel-Magic he could hold through the Fists of Odin. They had to cut down this enemy here and now, and he thought he had an idea of how he might try. With the combined link he would have more success in maintaining the Angel-Magic, as he formed a line of Emerald Samurai standing before the front demon ranks. The eight feet tall warriors of burning green numbered over three hundred, some wielding blades of laser light, that they immediately used to hack through demon flesh that fell in congealed fried chunks at their feet. Others wielded Flame-Bows, firing waves of emerald Lightning-Bolt Arrows that blasted demon flesh apart in blood and sparks. Amongst these ranks were also Samurai wielding long-handled mallets with rectangular heads of green light, and they moved in a rhythmic motion as they smashed down upon demon wedges in blasts of blood and flame. This spell was draining to his ki'mera and his stamina, but if he could hold on to them for long enough, he might do some serious damage.

Even with a link of four, he felt he might be able to maintain these for some time, and he took his last swig of the potion to ensure he was not lost to madness. The effect of the cure restored a balance to his mind; Jinn-Magic no longer detectable. He felt nothing but the pure ecstasy of Angel-Magic; combined with the energy and evil from the ki'mera that flowed to his soul like an endless river. His enhanced vision watched the slaughter of tens of thousands of demons with a sense of accomplishment; it was human life that he had to preserve.

With the Link between the Battle Angels combined with Adem's smaller link amongst his companions, teron also felt like an overwhelming force upon his mind and soul. He watched Anann Lior raise a second sword; Fire Rage glowed with golden flames as balls of orange fire the size of boulders began to rain down from the skies, striking the demon hordes to rupture outwards in sheets of incandescent flame that reduced demon flesh to ashes. He then noticed that within each fireball was the shape of a charging bull! They had taken out over one hundred thousand by now, but the demon army looked to be more than ten times that size, and that was perhaps only a fraction of what still marched from the East Lands. Finally, Adem had to release the Angel-Spell that held the Emerald Samurai in place, and moments after Arawn sent his warning to Adem's mind.

We must rest, Son of Odin.

Adem knew the moment was approaching, yet he gritted his teeth and groaned as he saw the lightning storm vanish and the fires no longer falling from the skies. The Battle Angels had maintained that Link for so long they all needed to rest and recover at the same moment, and Adem saw even the three newest additions—Anann with his blades of flame, Epona in her emerald armour and Maeve in a gown of starlight—return to the heavens after a blinding bolt of lightning struck them and their horses. They could still summon the Battle Angels not yet used in this contest, yet that would slow the recovery of those in need of rest, which meant the Elves and Men would need to hold their ground for a while. He shouted the word, 'Pikes!' as tens of thousands of warriors armed with spears, pikes, swords or axes prepared to defend the top of the hill line, with Alit'aren amongst them as Adem cried, 'Archers!'

Dark arrow shafts filled the skies as the demon army charged, raining down upon the enemy to drive bull and ram skulled monsters into the dirt. When the gap was dangerously narrow, Adem roared, 'Shields!' A wall of liquid-fire surrounded the front lines as the demon hordes met with the strikes of quicksilver steel. Again, enhancing his voice with Angel-Magic, Adem shouted, 'Alit'aren, flames and Destruction-Magic!' As hundreds of Alit'aren linked with Ael Tarael amongst their ranks, forming chains of up to thirty men and women in each, the Angel-Spells were created, and the demon ranks began to collapse in the thousands. Angel-Magic tore them to shreds, fire blasting corpses into the air like paths of exploding dynamite. The second spell caused bodies to open up and spill onto the earth as teron and terael worked together; demons bursting from the inside out!

'Ael Tarael, Lightning Swords!' The sky came alive with blazing tridents of blue flame, striking the earth within the enemy ranks to blast demons into bleeding ashes! This would sustain them for a while longer, hopefully by then the Battle Angels would have had sufficient rest. It might then be necessary to unleash them all upon this demon scourge. Until then, Adem, Carl, Wil and Jean still had the ability to lend some support, though for now, they took this as an opportunity to rest and recover. His mind reached out to Shienden; the dragon was circling the skies keeping an eye on the movements of the demon hordes. Dragonfire might be of some use in holding off these monsters but getting him involved would put him at risk of the High-Servants. Adem was saving Shienden as his secret weapon when he faced Fendinn at Kerak'Otozi. He feared that day may arrive very soon.

***

Arig Reiden-Hold—also known as Flame-Bow of the Heroes of Will—stood on a hillside where he could see the lines of defenders and the demons that swarmed against the wall of shields and warrior blades. Beside him stood Orion Demon-Slayer and Tobin Fire-Heart, former Kings of Tarvel and Nordhel, with their Ael Tarael wives, Elmira Golden-Braid and Lydia Ever-Light, former Immortal Queens before they were downcast by Jean Fairsythe's decree.

Arig released a stream of red Lightning-Arrows from his Lukrorian Bow, his mind at peace after using a fair portion of the miracle potion. The arrows struck demons many ranks back within the horde, blasting flesh and bone into sprays of dark blood and floating ashes. His attacks would have much greater effect if the Heroes of the Harp of Souls had been summoned, yet that was a last hope needed for their mission at Kerak'Otozi.

Orion and Tobin took large swigs of their gourds of potion, their faces lighting up with confident grins; a sparkle in the darkness of their eyes. It was not the light of madness however; Arig knew they would be feeling their normal selves again for the first time in years. The two former Kings wore Alit'aren black coat and trousers; dark armour and brown leather boots, their wives in pale blue silk gowns and white woollen cloaks. Arig wore a long dark green coat under crimson armour, brown trousers and green leather boots.

Forming a link with the two men and women, Arig's arrows began to strike with greater impact, blasting fire in circular sheets of golden-orange energy that vaporized hundreds of Nymloc and Jacoulra, cutting Boli-Kuldr and Rahkwel apart in sprays of blood and bone! The main force of the link was passed to Elmira and Lydia, and the two women began to wield bars of liquid-blue fire shining incandescent, the attacks tore through the demon ranks making the beasts vanish in columns of sparkling ashes! They swept the blades of fire sideways through the enemy ranks to slice dark scaled limbs and torsos into flying piles of flesh. Arig hammered demons with blasts of crimson flame on either side of the Ael Tarael fire blades, as Orion and Tobin used what increase in teron they had gained to add to the massacre.

Both men raised their swords to the sky above their heads, Tobin's emerald fire, Orion's golden light; twin bolts of lightning falling from the heavens to mix with the flames of their blades. Moments later bolts of thick golden and emerald fire began to strike the demon fields, blasting demon flesh apart on impact, as massive tigers of golden fire charged from the flames; giant lions of emerald flame emerging from the green lightning strikes! Over fifty lightning bolts fell in a matter of seconds, each striking deeper within the demon horde, and Golden Tigers or Emerald Lions charged out of every point, at least ten Spirit Wardens for every lightning bolt! The enchanted beasts created havoc as they chewed chunks through Boli-Kuldr and Jacoulra, biting off Rahkwel skulls and shredding Nymloc with claws of pure magic! The Tigers and Lions also left trails of fire in their wake that spread throughout the demon army, and occasionally a Spirit Warden would burst with bolts of blue lightning that reached out to bore holes through the enemy.

Soldiers that were in reserve ranks began to roar with astonishment as they witnessed the damage created by Arig and his companions. Lydia and Elmira then changed their attacks to the spell known as Pixie Wardens, and palm sized blue fairies of pure blue flame began to fly from their fingertips—a dozen every second—flying with supernatural speed to impact with demon bodies as Pixie and beast exploded into flame! Bolts of lightning like great reaching claws also extended from their hands to reach over the defence lines; the bolts becoming Fire Pythons that chewed through demon flesh and bone.

They did their best to spread their work to continually try to ease the need for the Alit'aren and Agnars to defend the front lines. Their efforts would be appreciated, yet their contribution would require some rest in a short time. Then it would be up to the Sons and Daughter to lend their support.

Alit'aren and Ael Tarael still held off the bulk of the demon advance, lightning fell in blinding blue bolts like a field of massive swords. The earth heaved under the enemy in walls of crimson flame; blasting demon bodies into piles of burning ash.

***

Elarja RinHannen—also known as Timestrider—watched the battle erupt to epic proportions before his eyes. He decided it was time for him to lend a hand, and he would have preferred to have Arig Flame-Bow and his four companions assisting him in a link, though he saw that they were busy enough with what efforts they could make. Instead he joined in a chain with three Ael Tarael and four Alit'aren, all immortals of exceptional strength in Angel-Magic, moving towards the front lines where Shield-Domes still held back the demon advance; blades hacking with ferocity to cut down enemy ranks.

There were a number of options for how he could help out; one would be to slow time around the demons attacking on the front lines, only to give the Agnars an advantage of being able to swing their swords much faster. This would help, but he could not reverse the march of those demon ranks very far if he used another spell; the horde was so densely packed it would be of little use except to ease the strain on Alit'aren Shield-Spells.

They were two options, yet another choice the Time Stones had always given him was the ability to safely harness larger amounts of teron than most ancient artefacts in this world could provide. They were not as effective as the Heart of Odin had been, for example, but even in this small chain of wielders he knew he could do some serious damage.

Holding the four stones gripped in his palms, two in each hand, he began to wield their Angel-Magic through each of them. Earth-Magic, Water-Magic, Air-Magic and Fire-Magic. Using one Elemental Magic at a time would allow him to maintain these Angel-Spells longer, but he chose to implement all four at once to try to put a dent in those advancing front lines.

Fire-Magic! Lightning bolts suddenly struck in a line within the advancing bulk of demons, fourteen thick crimson bolts; blasting flesh from bone, incinerating hundreds in a heartbeat. Water-Magic! Demons also began to turn into crystallized structures of pure hard ice, as he wielded Air-Magic to split the formations that exploded into dust. This spell was more widespread and affected thousands in a matter of moments, the spell was somewhat draining to his ki'mera however as he was more attuned to Earth-Magic. The ground began to tremble as massive Stone Sentinels formed of crimson glowing boulders rose to the attack, standing in a line of forty they unleashed bars of flame as their stone fists crushed demons like squashed grapes.

During this time the ice formations continued to trap demons in clusters of a hundred or more in any one place. He struck these with the lightning bolts more often to avoid wasting his endurance on Air-Magic, though he still wielded Earth, Air and Fire-Magic combined; tearing open demon bodies with Destruction-Magic. Yet this was only a fraction of the Angel-Magic he could wield while joined in such a link. He then multiplied the Angel-Spells to summon Charging Bulls of orange flame, a hundred of the beasts stomping demons with burning hooves or impaling them with massive horns! He summoned Sabre Wolves similar in size to Shadow Hounds, ferocious beings of flesh and bone that glowed wicked red as they tore chunks from demon flesh, biting off skulls as blasts of flame erupted sideways from their forms.

He took the last swig of the miracle potion to cleanse his mind of the emerging taint. If not for the potion, this much extended use of such vast quantities of Angel-Magic might drive him beyond the brink of madness. He hoped another large supply of the cure arrived soon! Their chances of survival depended on it.

***

Carl stood close to Adem, with Jean to his right and Wil to Adem's left. They had decided it was time for the four of them to link again. Their Battle Angels still needed more time to rest and recover, so it would require some heavy execution style attacks to ensure the front lines held for that time.

Adem held the most part of the link, yet the combined flows of Angel-Magic were extreme in all four of them, even though it was not shared equally among them. Carl sensed Jinn-Magic returning to teron, though he was now completely out of the miracle potion; and that was likely also the case with every other wielder in this army.

Fresh supplies should have arrived over an hour ago! He began to feel tense as he considered the possible intervention of the Shadow. He had to focus; brilliant light filled his soul; the corruption made him want to vomit. The strength of the link increased his sense of both the pure fires of teron, and the rancid acid of Jinn-Magic by ten times or more. He felt the tension return to his brow; his thoughts became paranoid almost instantly. He became distrustful of his fellows, believing any one of them could be a Shadowsouled spy! Focus! These people were depending on him.

God give me focus and peace of mind!

He reached out with Angel-Magic, forming twelve beings of pure Fire-Magic, each standing ten feet tall in the shape of an armoured warrior similar to Adem's Jade Samurai. He armed these Spirit Wardens with giant spears of red fire that cleaved through demon skulls and torsos in dark sprays! He set these Warrior Priests within the front lines of the attacking demon horde, hacking down enemy lines to give the Agnars and Alit'aren a chance to breathe after fighting so furiously while the shields were maintained. At the same time, he gripped his own staff—that glowed with bright crimson light—as red lightning struck the demons around the Crimson Priests, blasting outwards in waves of pure energy to vaporize dozens of Nymloc and Jacoulra with every strike, Boli-Kuldr and Rahkwel exploding into sprays of dark blood.

***

Jean brought explosions of Fire-Magic from the earth, further behind Carl's sentinels. The land burst with fifteen feet high crimson waves; blasting demon bodies apart by the thousands. Jean was not particularly strong with Fire-Magic normally, but this link allowed her to exude a force equal to when she was wielding through Tanriel or Anwen. Her Battle Angels informed her they were nearly ready to fight again, Jean's vision becoming inward as the voices chimed in her mind via the kigare. That gave her some relief, to know they would soon have another chance to cut this demon plague down at the knees and watch it buckle. A slight grin flashed across her face as she created a new spell, copying Carl's examples.

A dozen female angels appeared in the sky, beings of blue fire wielding bolts of golden lightning in their fists. She called them Spear Angels. The Angel Wardens began to hurl lightning bolts that blasted demons into blood and ashes; the earth erupting on impact. She could have created more with a link this size, yet the spells of terael were focused through the force of those lightning bolts, exploding outwards in flares of raw energy to tear through armour and melt flesh; reducing demons to crusted bone and floating dust. She almost laughed at the ecstasy of Angel-Magic flowing through her veins, yet the curse on terael brought troubled thoughts to her mind. She had drained her store of the miracle cure.

She actually gave a silent prayer that the supplies would arrive soon. It was a sure sign that she had reached a point of desperation!

***

Adem used his Matter-Manipulation Magic to summon twenty-four Golden Soldiers from the metals deep within the earth. The liquid gold rose to take the form of mechanical robot men standing eight feet tall, wielding laser cannon arms that emitted blazing beams of neon red light. The Soldiers were positioned twelve on each side—north and south—of the demon horde; unleashing laser beams that cut down tens of thousands of demons in a matter of seconds. The demon army was over a thousand bodies wide; the lasers sliced through Boli-Kuldr and Rahkwel flesh and bone as the beams swept through the masses. Nymloc and Jacoulra erupted into flames before blasting into piles of scorched ash. Even the Souljhin and their dark steeds were reduced to charred lumps of flesh when the lasers cut them into chunks.

At the same time, he used the strength of the link to harness teron, Angel-Magic a blizzard and a furnace in his soul. He used these flows to form sixty of his Jade Samurai, each standing ten feet tall, the samurai looking figures hacked with their emerald swords to cut through demons like a series of downward facing propellers. He positioned these Samurai further behind Jean's walls of flame, so that with their combined efforts, the front fifty lines of the demon horde were steadily being culled towards extinction. Ki'mera flowed towards Adem and his companions like a river of coloured light. Wil was using his share of the link to create Flame Wolves, similar to Tobin and Orion's Spirit Wardens. Twelve of the beasts charged through the demon bulk, unleashing blasts of fire and lightning as they shredded demons with their teeth and claws.

The Ael Tarael and Alit'aren were still wielding Lightning-and-Fire-Magic in vast amounts, and the Agnars were beginning to see an opportunity to rest when Arawn spoke to Adem's mind, stating: We are ready, Son of Odin!

Adem shouted, 'Arawn! Balor! Llew!' as his companions summoned each of their Battle Angels, the skies coming alive with thousands of coloured lightning bolts as a fierce vortex swirled in the dark clouds above. Adem's three Battle Angels appeared at the peak of the vortex on wings of fire and shadows, with Anwen and Tanriel hovering in the centre of the eye of the storm that reached down within the demon ranks to lift thousands into the air. Dis Pater, Math Mathonwy, Bran and Angus were also high above the battlefields as they formed a massive Link!

At this moment, Gwydion launched from the sky on a bolt of white lightning to land in front of Adem and his companions, with Maeve, Anann Lior and Epona beside him on their altherin horses. They too joined in the Link, as the male Battle Angels swept down from the clouds to blast the demon horde with Fire-Magic and lightning! Fire Lions in the hundreds charged out of Arawn's dark shadow form, the beasts were giant sized flesh and bone Lions that glowed with a red flame as blasts of lightning tore sideways into enemy ranks; crimson blade hacking through demon skulls in the wake of Arawn's Carnage!

Bran and Llew followed close by his side, swinging their elemental blades of golden and violet flames as a pack of blue Spirit Wolves chewed chunks through demon flesh; pushing bodies to the ground to bite off their skulls!

Tanriel began to hurl down hundreds of Flame Spears that erupted into sheets of orange flames a hundred paces wide in an X axis, with each Spear sending off flames in a different direction, taking out tens of thousands of demons; melting flesh from bone and blasting the enemy into dust! Anwen hovered beside her; thousands of birds of prey Spirit Wardens flying from her enchanted staff of light, swooping and diving within the demon horde to blast dozens into bursting burnt body parts.

Math Mathonwy charged beside Angus with his massive emerald staff; the two Battle Angels surrounded by hundreds of Shadow Hounds that tore through demon ranks; biting off skulls, shredding flesh from bone! Mathonwy swung his crimson spear to decapitate Nymloc and Rahkwel, splitting Boli-Kuldr and Jacoulra torsos in half! Sheets of red fire burst from every swipe of his Hellfire Spear, while Angus wielded emerald flames that blasted demons flying in his wake.

At this point Maeve raised her hands again, and the skies were filled with the Fallen Angels of blue fire, crashing to earth in vast explosions while lightning bolts still fell from the sky in every colour of the rainbow. Anann Lior raised the sword known as Star Fury; spheres of white fire began to hail from the sky, exploding on impact in waves of white energy that vaporized hundreds of demons with every strike. Epona gave a sharp whistle and her herd of Spirit Horses appeared again, charging head on into the front demon ranks to trample the enemy into the earth!

The Agnars and Alit'aren on the front lines began a fierce and courageous cheer as they watched the chaos unfold. The roar of victory sounded further back within Adem's forces as the sense began to grow that this battle would soon be over! Even Adem was nearly convinced; then he saw the sky flare with the appearance of many dark robed figures, eleven in total; some of them High-Servants, the rest were Hex-Keepers! Adem shouted above the roar of thunder, using Angel-Magic to amplify the sound, 'Shields up high!'

At that moment he saw another nightmare come into being. Bolts of crimson fire launched from the fists and blades of the High-Servants and Hex-Keepers, rupturing like claws around massive Shield-Domes through linked Alit'aren and Ael Tarael chains. But what took Adem's attention away was the dark mass of tens of thousands of demons that had been blasted to blood and dust. They began to rise again! Demons that had been a scorched pile of flesh moments before became entire beings growling and roaring as they came back to life! To his horror, almost in the same instant, thousands of his Nordic warriors—as well as some of the Honds and Hamdril's warriors—began to fall dead where they stood! Adem realised it was Calliach returning balance in the case of the men that had already once cheated death, yet the fact that the demons had all come to life at the same time, suggested the Angel of Death had made a deal with the Devil.

'Retreat! Fall back to Dohkesh's Wall! Retreat!' he roared the words as horns began to sound and his forces began to fall back, any one not yet on a horse was soon springing into the saddle and turning with haste to bolt for the next line of defence. With the assistance of the Battle Angels, the Shield-Domes were maintained, while the male Battle Angels flew to the skies to combat the Hex-Warlords and Hex-Keepers. This also created the time necessary for an escape, as the real threat was distracted while they moved as fast as an army that size could attempt such a retreat. Adem watched as Maeve, Epona, Tanriel and Anwen created waves of fire and lightning to blast the reincarnated demons back into dust and bones. This also gave them the opportunity to escape without being overrun with demons attacking them from the rear. Adem's real concern was whether the entire demolished demon horde was going to get back on its feet!

He booted the dark stallion and moved off at a swift pace with his companions at his side. Terese also rode close to Jean; within a few hundred yards they were joined by Elarja, Arig, Tobin and Orion as well as Lydia and Elmira. 'What can we do?' Adem shouted to Elarja amidst the thunder of hooves. Elarja looked baffled by the question, but then he replied, 'We must wait for the sign of Fendinn's Rising! We must end this war before it gets out of our control!'

'But I still don't know how to defeat him!' Adem shouted.

'We had better learn that secret soon,' Elarja roared, 'or else we might be facing an unstoppable demon army!'

***

Serock heard the howl of wolves in the forest surrounding the hut where he had gained a meal of bread and beef, provided by the host who was an aged mortal living in great fear of the vampires that ruled these lands. They were just wolves, not werewolves, but it was getting close to nightfall, and Koncha would set his dogs loose soon enough. Serock thanked the man for the meal, pushing a few gold coins across the table as he stood. He knew the old man saw how weak he still was, yet fortunately he seemed not to suspect Serock's true identity and past history.

If he realised that Serock was once the feared Vampire-King of these lands, Serock would likely have to fight for his life. Yet the food had provided him sufficient physical strength to resist such a frail figure, potentially wielding a rusty axe or blunt dagger. He did not however feel ready to take on a pack of hungry werewolves.

As he moved for the door, he noticed a sword hanging from the wall, he'd had his back to it the entire time since entering and had been far too weak to be very observant up until now. 'Take it!' rasped the old man, a look of fear entering his dark eyes. Serock sensed the mood of the man and lifted the blade from the wall in its golden scabbard. He checked the steel; it was clean, well-cared for, and very sharp. His eyebrows rose in surprise, then he sheathed the weapon and stepped out into the cool evening air.

The last rays of sunlight were fading on the horizon as he stumbled towards the northern road. He heard howling again, this time he was certain that they were werewolves. His hearing detected the sound from many miles away, as his immortal hearing was exceptional, but the beasts would soon be upon him. He was still too weak to form a Portal-Spell that would take him very far, yet a few more miles would be an advantage. He created one small enough to kneel and crawl through. It drained his ability to wield significantly, though he had put another five miles between himself and his pursuers. He decided his best hope was to find a suitable position for defence. He was scanning the cliffs on mountains to the east of his location when he noticed a pale mare grazing on pasture in the foothills. The animal was altherin!

What good fortune! He then used the speech attributed to Dremelden Immortals to lure the animal to his side. The horse had no saddle or harness, but it stared at him with a large dark eye filled with compassion, lowering her neck as she snorted and allowed Serock to seize her mane and climb on to her back.

As he rode northwards with the speed of a storm wind, Serock wondered if he'd been blessed with a gift from the gods.

Chapter 18

The Martyr Coven

'I can't stay here while Adem is out there fighting for his life!' Isabelle screamed the words this time, frowning and pouting afterwards with arms crossed under her breasts. In a cool blue silk gown worked with silver roses, the Ruhalden Princess was ever the picture of beauty and elegance. This evening she looked less charming however, her hair a little frizzled, she was also starting to show dark lines under her eyes from lack of sufficient rest.

This concerned Hayley, almost as much as her concern for Wil, who was also out there in the Borderlands, holding back a demon army that would wipe out the world if they succeeded in breaking through the defence lines. But Isabelle was soon to give birth to the heir of the Blue Water Dragon. That was important, perhaps the most important event that would occur during this war. If the child died before birth due to Isabelle's ill temper and lack of sleep—as well as her refusal to follow her strict diet or even eat enough to sustain the child—it could take away the one hope of saving Kismeria after the Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor returned to their home world.

Whether the child turned out to be male or female, they would grow to become a figure of immense power and influence. So perhaps the fate of the world rested more on the successful birth and maturity of Isabelle's child than the outcome of this war in fact. For this very reason, Hayley was left in charge of the bossy Princess. So far Isabelle had used every threat she could think of to try to manipulate Hayley into acceding to her demands, from threats to 'order her execution and that of her Martyr Coven' to the meek and mild promise to 'raise her status higher than any King or Queen in the land.'

Hayley endured the charade, all the while nursing her newborn baby girl that slept in a crib under close guard. Both babies would be of use to the Jinn-Lord in his schemes, and for this reason Jean Fairsythe had left a host of Alit'aren, Seidr'tera and Aesir'Eron, as well as Ael Tarael to keep a close watch inside the chamber and in the surrounding hallways. There were seven Ael Tarael in the room during this outburst from Isabelle, all of them wearing expressions of slight amusement over the conversation, mixed with signs of anxiety over the battles being fought.

The two Alit'aren stood with blank expressions, arms behind their backs in black coats and trousers, as well as two young lower ranking mortal wielders, Ron and Del. The sandy haired Del with the bright green eyes also looked worried, and Hayley guessed his real concern was for the wellbeing of Jean Fairsythe. Hayley didn't need the talk of her Battle Angel, Druantia, to know for sure that the young man held strong affections towards the Daughter of Thor. Nevertheless, Druantia sent a thought to Hayley's mind via the kigare regarding this very subject. It is a wonder he did not pledge his life to serve at her side on the battlefront, hoping for the rank of fully fledged Alit'aren Aldebrand. The message came as a soft series of sounds like wind chimes, though Hayley also noted the strain in the voice that spoke of the curse on terael. Battle Angels could not drink the miracle potion created to combat the curse and taint, so their future was still uncertain.

Hayley gazed at her sleeping baby; the child undisturbed by Isabelle's shrieking volumes. 'I want to see him now! I demand it! I will be supreme ruler until this child is full grown!' Then in a sudden mood swing to a pleading tone she asked, 'Isn't there anything I could promise you that would make you submit?'

Today Hayley wore an outfit more suited to Jean or Terese Sapphire-Sword, in a dark green woollen coat and brown leather trousers with knee-high emerald leather boots. Her stomach had long since returned to its normal flatness, and she wore a thick black leather belt around her waist—with an oval golden buckle embossed with an oak tree and leaves—and the coat flared below the belt like a short skirt. 'Hush now,' Hayley said with a finger raised to her lips. 'You'll wake her and then I'll be distracted putting her back to sleep.' She regarded Isabelle with a passive expression, without any returned threat in her tone. She even grinned in a sneaky way that implied she would never give up this amusing game.

And that was the truth, Isabelle was not going anywhere near the Borderlands. Already they were situated at Nordhel, transported by Portal-Magic wielded by Ael Tarael recently taught the ability. Two of the Alit'aren in her entourage also knew the technique. No one else knew it, but Wil had disclosed the Portal-Magic to Hayley also, at least the male technique, from which Hayley was able to learn a version of her own successfully. That took some assistance from Druantia of course—as well as a link with Dis Pater via Wil's connection—to understand the complexities of converting knowledge of invisible male Teron-Spells into Terael-Spells that she could see and control. The point was, even if her guards were all killed in an attack, Hayley could still create a Portal-Spell to evacuate the Princess. It also gave Hayley the future ability to transport her Martyr Coven anywhere she chose to, under cover of heavy clouds or at night.

This pleased Hayley even more, because she had long ago decided she would abandon mankind, once her husband returned to his world. There would be no place for her kind amongst humans, so she would lead her Coven of loyal vampires and werewolves, on a hunt of the Southlands, to battle with more of her kind, defeat them, and then insist that they join her or die. The Martyr Coven would then be united to fight alongside the Sons of Odin—over a thousand years from now—in the Ragnarök Battle.

Those vampires and the werewolf already loyal to her were also close by, some amongst the soldiers guarding the hallways, others further out creating a strong defensive perimeter. 'I have to see him!' Isabelle snapped. 'He needs me!' Again, Hayley answered in a tone that did not invite further conflict, but also implied her siding with Jean when she calmly replied, 'Nonsense, ridiculous, he does not need you, Isabelle. He has the Daughter of Thor.' She finished with another grin, choosing compressed lips rather than flashing her long canines. Isabelle cursed under her breath, then stomped her precious feet with fists shaking at her sides as she wailed, 'Oh! You are truly impossible! Wait till my father hears of this!'

At that moment Isabelle began to groan in agony, clutching her womb with both hands as a look of extreme pain twisted her expression. Hayley sprang to action, 'The baby must be coming early!' The next moment all the lamps in the room went out in a sudden flash, darkness filled the chamber as beings cloaked in shadow appeared throughout the large meeting hall. Hayley drew her crimson sword as she cried, 'Hex-Warlords! To arms! Defend Isabelle!' Hayley's baby girl woke in a fit of screams, as the cloaked figures took solid form, two of them were Hex-Warlords, two more were female Hex-Keepers—one of them the beautiful witch Calliestra Shadow-Heart—and two more male Generals. In a blur of motion—as Hayley had begun to shout—the defenders began to wield bars of lightning and fire, even Ron and Del were hurling bolts of blue flame at their enemies, but the attacks struck crimson Shield-Spheres as the High-Servants and Hex-Keepers retaliated with crimson fire that took out four Ael Tarael and the two full Alit'aren—her protectors were there one moment, and when the red bars of flame struck their hearts, they vanished in a blast of crimson fire!—while Ron and Del raced to stand beside Isabelle who was now on her knees and still in severe pain. They formed Shield-Spheres, but Hayley knew they did not want to harm the heir of Highlander, they wanted Isabelle as bait. The two High-Servants marched towards the shielded men, as the remaining Ael Tarael formed Shield-Spheres to deflect blasts of fire from Calliestra and the other female Dark General, a golden-haired beauty likely to be Nodomi.

'Where is my Coven? To arms! We're under attack!' Hayley shouted, as she moved with supernatural speed to strike down on a Shield-Spell surrounding one of the High-Servants. A moment later hands grasped her from behind, unnaturally strong grips clutched both wrists to hold her as the High-Servants drove their swords through Ron and Del's Shield-Spheres, skewering both boys through their hearts with those terrible tainted blades! Hayley screamed in outrage as the bodies fell lifeless to the floor. The other Ael Tarael were now shielded by a link between the attackers, cutting them off from terael but also keeping them glued to the spot. Hayley was also overpowered in the same way, the hands releasing her as she felt the Shield-Trap lock in around her. The one that was holding her stepped forward into view, another High-Servant in a dark cloak and blood red demon mask. She heard sounds of battle outside, her loyal vampires fighting and dying in her honour, they would be helpless against more of this kind.

The other two High-Servants lifted Isabelle to her feet, still groaning but also very aware of the disaster that surrounded her. They held her arms as they led her through a warp of Air-Magic, the red masked one waiting for them to leave before he turned to Hayley and said, 'Tell Highlander to meet us at Kerak'Otozi if he wants to save the Princess and his heir.' The words were like thunder in her ears, she strained against the Shield-Trap that still held her fast from the other four still in the room; and then all five vanished in separate Portal-Spells that wrapped around them like invisible serpents of crimson flame.

Hayley fell to her knees, screaming in terror and fury. She soon found her feet—with assistance from Lauren Celman—and raced to her daughter's crib, finding the child was safe and unharmed, making short squeals as Hayley tickled her belly. The other Ael Tarael also moved to check the hallways, and soon reported that the enemy had slaughtered most of those posted to guard outside her door. She still heard men groaning in the hallway—some of them her own Coven—reportedly from bleeding stumps for limbs as the Ael Tarael set to work with Healing-Magic for those they could save. Hayley's mind raced in a state of panic! I have to get to Adem! I have to warn them all! Her new terror was the decision to leave her child behind under close guard or take her by portal to the battles on the Green Border. 'Where is my Coven?' she bellowed as she clutched the child in swaddling and marched for the hallway.

Images kept flashing through her mind of the deaths of poor Ron and Del. They were only boys! Inside of her a firestorm of vampire rage was surging! She had forgotten one word that might have saved them all, the name of her Battle Angel, Druantia. If she had summoned her at the first moment, perhaps this would all be a different outcome. She scolded herself for a fool as she saw members of her Coven racing to aid her, vampire men and women in shining armour—running past bodies burnt to a crisp with Jinn-Magic—with looks of horror written on their faces. The large black skinned werewolf known as Kaiglen also patrolled the hallway behind the vampires, sniffing at the bodies with a harsh snarl.

Druantia explained that it was not all Hayley's fault for not summoning her in time. Somehow the High-Servants were able to block our communication. It may have something to do with the curse on terael. The other thought that troubled Hayley the most was that they had kept their location quite secret. This meant there was at least one traitor amongst them!

***

Rodriel Tarz watched with a grim expression as his forces retreated yet again. The demon horde this far north on the Green Border was said to be smaller than the one Highlander was facing, yet it still stretched for miles in the hundreds of thousands at an estimate. Every kind of demon of this Age was there, Boli-Kuldr, Nymloc, Grimwel, Rahkwel and Jacoulra; all pushed into an advance by the thousands of Souljhin on midnight steeds. A demon army of that size would rampage the lands without the coercion of their demon masters, yet the enemy had obviously been preparing for this war a very long time, building its forces in the East Lands to proportions that were potentially unstoppable.

He had some assistance besides his wielders and warriors, however. The Great Angel Gwydion had shown up in battle a number of times with a host of other Battle Angels to aid them in combat. The Battle Angels were getting stronger; a mix of various elements in play, yet the result was many Great Angels were returning to a portion of their ancient Angel-Magic. Many were now free from their Resting Points, returning to the High Realm or the rivers and forests of the lands according to Gwydion, and some had even returned to the Underworld. Highlander's dragon pet Shienden was one of the influencers of these sudden changes.

As his forces began to retreat on their horses in a wave of over two hundred thousand defenders, Gwydion appeared in a bolt of lightning to land between the retreat and the charging demon army. It was some distance off, but Tarz watched with the enhanced vision of teron flowing in his veins, and he made out two other figures clearly on either side of the Battle Angel. The other two were both male, one standing eleven feet tall in thick dark green armour that rippled like water and fire. That was Runen, the Great Angel of Earth, and the last time Tarz had seen him close up he saw a face carved of rock with a wide jaw and chiselled cheekbones, a moustache and goatee of thick hard moss. Runen's eyes were emerald fire and he wielded a massive blue crystal hammer known as Demon Ward.

At this moment that Tarz looked on he saw Runen smash the hammer down into the earth, facing the charging demon hordes. The earth trembled as fire ruptured in massive streaks through the dark clay, emerald fountains that raged towards the demons to strike the front lines in an arc of flames a half mile wide! On impact the flames immediately began to vanquish thousands of demons, but as the fire tore through the ranks, it took the form of twenty giant stone warriors, similar to Runen in appearance, only these were standing twice his height; emerald fire blasting demon flesh in their wake. Each Rock Sentinel wielded a massive hammer or axe formed of the same blue crystal—twice as large—that they used to crush demons like stomping vermin underfoot!

Gwydion wore a shimmering ruby coloured silk robe and conical wide-brimmed hat this time, wielding his gnarled wooden staff with arms wide as thousands of Pixie Wardens began to fly out of his form, rising into the air to fly like lightning towards the demons; skulls exploding on impact!

At the same time the three Battle Angels formed a link to bring lightning and fire from the heavens as the dark cloud cover swirled in a vortex, emerald, aqua and golden bolts. Hundreds of bolts fell to the demon fields to blast the enemy out of existence, yet Tarz had already seen a large portion of the defeated demons rise back up and return to battle. This was most troubling; an immortal demon horde was certainly something they could not defeat.

The third Battle Angel present was also much taller than Gwydion, a slender figure encased in a ring of crimson-golden flames with ancient symbols marked in fire within the circle. That was Neit, the Great Angel of War Rage, armed with a spear of white fire that pulsed in red and gold flares as he unleashed bars of incandescent Fire-Magic to slice through demons by the thousands. Wearing bright golden armour studded with brightly coloured jewels, the figure wore a golden helmet in the same ancient style of Nordic warriors and his face was a pale human skull of pure fleshless bone; crimson fire glowing in the dark empty sockets. Curling shadow locks fell around his shoulders with wings of crimson fire holding him levitated a foot above the ring of flames.

This scene of carnage lasted for over fifteen minutes, bringing the demon charge to a standstill; allowing Tarz's forces a safe retreat to a series of hillsides, leading up to a stone wall standing fifteen feet high, that guarded the pass between the last Borderland mountain ranges before entering the Free Lands. They had been pushed back through that region since they began their defence at Highlander's command. Tarz intended to hold the enemy back from this new point of defence with wielders, Aldebrands and Archers. Once the cavalry was safely behind the stone wall there was no hope of sending out a charge through such a narrow gateway at the base where only four could ride abreast. He was considering using Portal-Magic to attack with cavalry from the rear if they could cut this army down to some extent, and they had used Portal-Spells to get most of the warriors behind the wall in so short a time. Only a small number of Alit'aren and Ael Tarael here knew the Portal-Magic, but they used large linked chains to create vast stretching Portal-Spells for riders to pass through up to five hundred abreast.

Once they were safely inside the new point of defence with Archers and wielders lining the walkways of the wall—along with thousands of Nordics and Torvellen warriors armed with swords, pikes, spears or axes—Tarz looked to see the Battle Angels return to the skies in a bolt of blue lightning as thunder tore the heavens. Tarz was not able to summon Gwydion or his Brothers; they simply seemed to know when they were most needed. He ground his teeth in frustration as he watched thousands of the slaughtered demons rise and take form once more.

The great captain Fien Marghotha stood beside him watching the disturbing scene, his Torvellen Lady, Jeimella, by his side as the aged immortal remarked, 'This is certainly going to be a challenge.' As Tarz gave the man a sideways glance, he thought he saw a look of eager anticipation. Excited at the prospect of dying for a worthy cause Tarz assumed, or else the madness was just getting to him. They needed that fresh supply of potion fast! He was counting on being able to allow the Aldebrands to wield Lightning-Arrows with their Lukrorian Bows. Without that extra assistance, the demons would soon overpower them here too. He had considered putting a Portal-Spell up in front of the wall—as demons could not pass through Portal-Magic which would make it impossible for them to climb it—however that would only give them the ambition to scale the surrounding mountains or turn back to find another path. They were pushing hard here, perhaps the only other army that was attempting to enter the Free Lands. If they could hold them back here and try to wipe them out—at the possible expense of the lives of many of his warriors—it seemed to be the best possible method given the circumstances.

Demons were in many ways stupid creatures, they attacked in formation and pushed at one point with relentless ambition, yet they often failed to see another option unless they were forced to it either by the Souljhin or by inability to achieve their aims, at which point they often found another option. This could be used to an advantage at times like these, and had always been throughout the Ages, but demons that refused to die was something he had never heard of before. He wondered if it was a sign of Jinn-Fendinn's Return.

'Archers! Pikes! Alit'aren, Shields!' The defensive wall of liquid-blue fire covered the walkways as a rain of dark arrow shafts covered the skies to fall upon the demon masses; punching through dark scaled flesh to cover the beasts like giant pincushions. Behind those front lines the savage barks and growls sounded like the roar of a million dark lions.

As the enemy began to scale the high stone walls, warriors fought back with blades of enchanted steel glowing like the sun, stabbing and slicing at the claws and skulls that tried to push through the narrow gap between the top of the wall and the shields above it. Again, this trap they had devised would lead the Souljhin to attempt another route for their invasion, but for now, it was the only way Tarz could think of to save lives while keeping the enemy occupied.

'Alit'aren, Earth-Fire-Magic and Destruction-Magic!' he roared with Air-Magic emanating his voice like thunder. Looking to the hordes within the pass, he saw the ground erupt in fountains of crimson flame. Teron-Magic forced thousands of demon bodies to burst like squashed grapes, insides spilling on to the ground as skulls exploded in glorious sprays of dark blood!

Tarz just hoped most of them stayed dead this time.

***

Adem was standing on the walkway of the high stone wall guarding the end of the pass, between the massive dark peaks of the Green Border. It was nightfall, the dark clouds above still blocking out the starlit sky as they billowed further west from the East Lands. The air was still warm however, dry and draining of every drop of sweat in his body. His throat was parched, he needed water, but there was no time for that now.

If they lost their position here, the next point of defence would be at Talmeris; situated in line with the pass with stone forts, towers and walls built up over hillsides and fields approaching the Borderland Kingdom. There was no high wall barring entry to the entire region of the Free Lands, but valleys and smaller mountain ranges created similar funnels in the landscape that would draw the demons to those locations. Warriors defending those forts and walls would also draw the attention of the enemy, buying them more time while the farmers and villagers attempted to reach the safety of the cities that stood further west of Talmeris.

These defences had held back demons for thousands of years, but the greater walls were destroyed long before by the massive demons of ancient times. The walls were rebuilt with the assistance of wielders to move the massive stones into place, yet reconstruction of a higher wall was a political as well as a historical issue that had faced delays for far too long.

Adem had moved his forces here via Portal-Magic to arrive at least an hour before the demon hordes could reach them, but he watched the dark mass of invaders pushing towards them now through the gap, and his blood ran cold to think that these creatures were at present so hard to kill.

He was ready to give the order to prepare the defence of the wall when Wil appeared at his side with Hayley. Adem looked around in a sudden panic! There were dozens of her vampire coven pushing their way forwards through the crowd, one of the females holding Hayley's daughter in her arms, but he was searching for Isabelle. 'Where is Isabelle?' he asked while trying to control his temper. 'Don't tell me you left her alone.' Hayley looked at him with stark terror written on her visage as she explained all that had happened. As the tale continued, Adem felt a great weight upon his mind; anxiety constricted his chest as he thought of losing Isabelle, and his son! How long had Fendinn been planning this?

He realised he never should have left her alone, even with guards he hoped were sufficient. 'I tried my best, Adem!' Hayley exclaimed with tears running down her vampire cheeks. 'There was something else I had to warn you all about, too. You, Wil, Carl and Jean. I wasn't able to communicate with Druantia when the High-Servants appeared. But it was more than that, I completely forgot about her, when she had spoken to my mind only moments before. I think it might have something to do with the High-Servants having that influence over us via the curse and Jinn-Magic! Then they blocked me from Angel-Magic and locked down their Shield-Traps. There was nothing I could do. I'm so sorry, Adem! But I will help you save her! I promise.'

Adem took in the information as Jean approached and asked Hayley, 'What about Ron and Del?' Jean had been listening closely, but from a distance. Adem noted the concern in her tone. When Hayley explained that both boys had been murdered, Adem felt Jean's significant pain via the kigare. Adem knew that Jean had had a soft spot for the boy Del. He did not feel the slightest bit of jealousy over that now, he just thought of two more men who had died for his cause. He reached out to take Jean's hand, and he was relieved that she accepted the gesture and squeezed tightly as tears started to fall. 'They were very good boys,' she said as Kelderath began to bark orders to his captains and lieutenants. The demons were charging forwards now; their savage barks and growls filling the air like a dreadful chorus.

Adem stared at the demon approach with fierce rage. He was no longer in any way empathetic for these gruesome wretches! They were an abomination! They were pure evil incarnate! He prepared to lash out at them, drawing vast amounts of teron through the enchanted gauntlets. He looked to Jean, Carl and Wil and immediately felt them open themselves to accept his link. Angel-Magic raged in his soul to overwhelming proportions, they gave it all to him, and he drank it in with insatiable desire to wreak his vengeance.

Thunder tore the air; lightning began to strike the demons for miles into the distance, thousands of blazing aqua tridents slamming into the earth to vaporize demons in packs of fifty, the blasts exploding to cut through hundreds more with every strike! He brought Lightning Hail too; Blades of Odin amongst the lightning, and two hundred Jade Samurai, hacking and hammering demon flesh into pulp with weapons forged of Angel-Magic. If Calliach couldn't do his job properly, Adem would take his place! Fire Pythons launched from the blades of lightning, giant thick snapping jaws biting through demon souls as ki'mera flowed towards him and his companions as a floating river of colourful light. He felt the evil of the ki'mera mixed with the incredible charge to his spirit that was always attributed to drawing in demon souls. The corruption on Angel-Magic was extreme; he had long before exhausted his supply of the cure.

Hayley breathed the name, 'Druantia,' her voice clear and bright in his ears with teron flowing in his veins. He allowed her to join in the link, as forty Green Men standing thirty feet tall rose up amongst the demon masses, clubbing and crushing them with massive fists and feet of vine entwined wood. Carl shouted, 'Math Mathonwy!' Hundreds of Shadow Hounds charged from the base of the wall to tear demons to shreds, biting off skulls as they pushed Jacoulra and Boli-Kuldr into the dirt. Wil roared, 'Eledisren!' as thousands of Flame Crows swooped from the skies to peck and claw at demon skulls, the massive form of Dis Pater rising in the thick of battle to cleave with his bright golden axe, splitting skulls with the forms known as Blood Moon and Crimson Sun, kicking Nymloc aside as he swung to cleave a Boli-Kuldr in half. Adem shouted, 'Arawn!' as Jean said the name, 'Tanriel,' softly, her voice filled with emotion at the loss of Del, but Adem could feel her rage building.

Tanriel launched into the sky on wings of blue fire, hurling a crimson Flame Spear that split into two hundred of the weapons before striking earth and erupting in massive sheets of golden-orange flame. She continued to unleash these attacks as Arawn appeared beside Math and Dis Pater, the three Battle Angels wreaking havoc with their weapons; sheets of fire launched from the strike of every blade. Fire Lions appeared amongst the Shadow Hounds, hundreds of the beasts formed of flesh and bone with energy pulsing around their forms. Their roars filled the air as they joined in the feast.

Lions and Hounds morphed to become incandescent white dragons of flame, gorging on flesh with massive burning jaws. Green Men clubbed the earth; sending off waves of emerald fire that split into forms of Dwarves hacking demon flesh with axes of emerald crystal. Arawn, Dis Pater and Math's forms split to become wedges of forty identical figures for each Angel, sending out blasts of Elemental Magic with each swing of sword, axe and spear. Lightning and sheets of flame launched from their blades to cut through the enemy forty ranks deep, the Angels and their Sentinels advancing swiftly; hacking demons apart with a vengeance. Math's and Arawn's flames took the form of scores of Hounds and Lions, and Dis Pater's were filled with Crows punching through demon chests in blasts of blood and fire. Where the three flames merged, sinuous apparitions of Fire Dragons took form, they were pure silver and burning white, chomping though demon flesh; roaring with bloodlust and rage.

Adem felt no remorse for what he saw, only hatred and rage. He believed now that his growing concern for the plight of the demons he was forced to kill must have been a part of his illness growing, a sense of connectedness to evil creatures via the Magic of Jinn-Fendinn that flowed through teron. He had believed it was a sign of his good nature, to care even for such beasts that fed on human flesh with insatiable hunger and bloodlust, savage killing machines created by the Lord of Corruption. Now he knew it was simply madness to feel such a way.

The sky was now ablaze with coloured lightning bolts, via the Link between the Battle Angels that added to Adem's destruction. They would not exert the strength of any more Battle Angels than this while they remained here. Each of them knew the confrontation at Kerak'Otozi would require them all to be well rested. Even this was foolish, if he took a third of the forces here with him to the East Lands including Kelderath to lead, the defenders could still hold here for a number of days with enough wielders to support them.

His concern was what would occur if the potion did not arrive to restore the Alit'aren to mental stability. He worried that drawing this much Angel-Magic could quickly bring back his own symptoms. He could not win if that happened, he knew that, so reluctantly he released the link and felt the vast torrents of Angel-Magic slip from his soul. It was agony to make that transition, the light and colour of the Battle Angel storm fading by significance to the transparent glow he had seen moments before. His soul ached to draw more of teron too, feeling that link and then letting go was a tornado of exquisite bliss turning into a world of loss and sorrow.

All he could think was that he hoped they could save Isabelle. He realised now how badly he'd treated her. He felt the claw of Jinn-Fendinn reach in and tear out his heart! 'It's time to go!' he shouted to his friends. 'Kelderath, you're coming with us! Leave Maldros here to command and bring Morthros! We'll need his expertise if Calliach catches up with you.' Kelderath grimaced at the suggestion; then barked at his men like a disgruntled old lion. Adem was not afraid to meet his maker, however. He had been prepared for that day since that fateful night at Bright. 'Archers! Blades! Alit'aren, unleash Earth-Fire-Magic and Destruction-Magic!' As their Battle Angels returned to Resting Points, the Alit'aren took over to light up the sky. The Wood Kin, Aldebrands and Archers had already started firing down off the wall directly at the enemy advance, thousands of broad headed steel arrows driving demons into the dirt.

Adem pushed his way through the crowd with his companions in close step. The crowd began to part for him also; warriors pushing others to step aside as they noted the storm cloud on his visage. He would show the Jinn-Lord what Adem Highlander was capable of.

First, he would need to make one more stop. He still needed the old half-blood Toll, to ask him how to create the seal. Without that, he had no chance of victory.

***

Toll sat reclined in his rocking chair over the front porch of his home, watching small birds peck at the dirt for grubs and insects. They were night birds, for feeding at least, amber feathers they were commonly called because of the streaks of yellow across the sides of each wing. He puffed on his pipe after a long swig of cider and stared up at the moon. Clouds were blocking most of the stars in the sky, Fendinn's Magic was spreading, but here the crescent moon still shone like a sliver of gold.

He heard footsteps inside the house, his ears were still good! His aged bones nearly leapt out of the chair as he scooped up his walking cane and opened the front door to step inside. 'Who's there?' he asked. He felt a sudden chill as a shadow cloaked figure emerged from the darkness into view of the moonlight falling through the window. 'Torkhan!' Toll shouted. 'What the hell do you want?'

'You called me by a different name when we were still friends,' the High-Servant said in a soft thunderous tone. Toll had known the man that became Torkhan, during that Age, he was known as Joromen, and he was one of the old heroes that fought the Shadow and his minions. Toll remembered those days with a grim expression as he shouted back, 'Now I call you Torkhan Dog Breath! What do you want?'

'You know why I am here, old friend. I cannot allow you to give Highlander the secret of sealing the High-Jinn back in his Resting Point. I know you have remembered the secret too. That is why.' He drew his long sword that glowed wicked crimson.

'You claim to know the thoughts that pass through my mind?' Toll asked.

'You will not live to know the answer to that question,' Torkhan replied with a tone of satisfaction. Toll reacted; drawing from teron, excruciating amounts of Angel-Magic filled his mind and body. Jinn-Magic was foul! Toll had been reluctant to wield more than a trickle since he first felt the corruption on Angel-Magic, though he had never feared death by order of Jean Fairsythe's decree. He just knew it would turn him mad, and then he might lash out and hurt someone. He had given that way of life up long before. But he would make one last attempt to take the life of this man who had betrayed the world.

'What are you doing?' Torkhan asked with a hint of fear. 'You will destroy yourself with that much—'

'Better than to die at your hands, betrayer!'

The room burst into flames, roaring blasts of incandescent blue fire exploded from his heart and chest, striking Torkhan as the Hex-Warlord fled in a warp. Before the fire consumed his flesh, Toll grinned again to think that his old friend would be licking his wounds for some time into the future. He had done his best. Good luck, Highlander.

***

Adem only brought a small host of guards with him to Toll's manor house. When he arrived through the Portal-Spell the first thing that he noticed were the hot orange embers covering the burnt-out rooftop, flames also licking the walls and window frames, some of them deep blue fire that sparkled like lightning. Adem's heart sank as he stepped into the smoke-filled front room to find what was left of Toll scattered about the floor and walls, charred flesh torn off in shreds as if the old man had exploded.

How had the Hex-Warlords known about his association with Toll? He had told no one. As he stood gazing over the room with that question in his mind, the answer dawned on him.

Fendinn must be able to see through our eyes! He must be able to hear what we say and hear! So, in effect, the Jinn-Lord can read our minds! He must know everything we plan the very moment we decide to do it.

He explained the theory to Carl, Wil and Jean, and although they seemed sceptical at first, the more he urged them to see reason in the belief—using all the strange coincidences as examples, such as the High-Servants knowing where to find Isabelle—the more they started to accept it as more than possible.

'It must be something to do with the curse and Jinn-Magic!' he said. 'Which means all male and female wielders are potentially spies for Fendinn; unwillingly providing our enemies with all our secrets! Perhaps he can even read our minds and hear our thoughts!'

'If this is true,' Elarja said, 'we have no chance of success.'

'Perhaps,' Jean said. 'But if we don't yet know how to defeat Fendinn, we still have no definite plan of attack. They know we are on our way to Kerak'Otozi; we can't keep that a secret from them, but the rest; well, we can just make it up as we go along.'

'Kelderath is a suitable commander also,' Carl said. 'He is not a wielder, so the madness does not touch him, therefore his plans will remain our secret.'

'We'll do what we can to save Isabelle,' Jean said; reaching out to grip Adem by the shoulder.

***

Serock charged through the night on the altherin mare. The horse was fast even for immortal stock, he still considered it to be a miracle that he had found her at such a desperate time. If the Great Angels were showing him favour, perhaps there was still a chance to redeem himself before the All-Father. He had done many terrible things in the life that he was known as Tairark Vampire-King, but they were already fading memories to him now, he remembered his life before that time more often, his days as a Warrior of the All-Father.

Howls filled the night air, a large pack of werewolves close on his trail. Werewolves were not as fast as this horse, but they were very fast long-distance runners, and Serock had to allow the horse to rest at slower speeds now and then to ensure it survived the journey. He still could not create a Portal-Spell large enough to fit the horse through, and without his mount, the werewolves would catch up. He was approaching the mountains passes between the Southlands and the southern ranges of the Free Lands. If he could lose them in that maze of narrow paths that wound towards the open fields, he would have some chance of escape once the horse was able to sprint again. The problem with that plan was, the paths would slow his mount considerably, giving the werewolves a chance to close the gap. Werewolves also had very good sense of smell, and they had picked up Serock's trail long before; they now knew the scent of the horse, too.

The entrances to the passes were ahead; he charged forwards and began to weave through the dividing ranges as fast as the narrow bends would allow. The howling drew closer, they were very close now! Some of them were scaling the mountain sides, hoping to attack from above, possibly springing to tear him from the horse's back. He drew the sword he'd obtained with his right hand, clutching the reins with his left as he whispered to the horse in Aelfin Tongue. The mare picked up speed, its hooves moving in a blur of precision steps as it turned sharp corners or ascended paths of soft earth or sand.

He grappled for teron, Angel-Magic flooding into him to a degree that left him with two options. He could stop and create a Portal-Spell that he could possibly lead the horse through on foot with the animal's head lowered, or he could defend himself here and now. The problem with the portal idea was he still could only wield enough to travel a few more miles north of here, and if the werewolves caught up again—due to the need to rest the horse at a gallop or trot for a few miles—he would have no Angel-Magic left to defend himself.

Deciding that a fight was the only option, he slowed the horse and spun to face his attackers. This far west of the Free Lands the crescent moon shone bright and clear, casting sufficient blue moonlight over the path and mountainsides for Serock to make out the charging forms of his pursuers. The horse began to panic and snort as it stamped its front hooves in an urgency to flee. Serock spoke the words, 'Ahn nenon rah!' which was horse chant for: Do not fear evil!

The horse settled and Serock pointed the sword blade towards a large dark-skinned monster with a thick wolf muzzle and jet-black eyes. Two more of equal size and speed were scrambling along the high rock walls on either side of the path.

A sheet of liquid-blue flame launched from the pointed blade, striking the Wolf on the path between the eyes. It roared as the fire pierced its skull, collapsing and sliding through the dirt. It was still for the moment, but Serock was not yet strong enough to kill one with Angel-Magic. He struck twice more to knock the other two beasts from the rock walls, both falling from a great height as the blue flames pierced them between their shoulder blades. The fall would not kill them either and he did not want to face these three again. So, he dashed towards the fallen bodies, his mare standing over the forms of three immortal males, as the shock of his attacks had returned them to human form.

Howls of pursuit approached from the southwest of the pass. If it had only been these three, perhaps he could have told them of Hayley Martyr's Coven. Perhaps he could have saved their lives if they would swear an oath to serve at his side. But there was no time for that; he would have more blood on his hands this night. He struck hard and fast, driving the steel a foot deep through their hearts, then struck again to sever skulls from necks in a dark crimson spray.

He mounted the horse again and charged off into the night. He prayed to the All-Father that his luck held out this night.

Chapter 19

Return of the Jinn-Lord

Adem's forces poured out through the massive Portal-Spell situated at the foothills of Kerak'Otozi. He brought the Honds and Hamdril's warriors, as well as close to a hundred thousand more mounted warriors including Nordics, Wood Kin, Archers, Alit'aren and Ael Tarael. Heavy cavalry poured through first, followed by Aldebrands and Immortal Agnars, heavily armed including their Lukrorian Bows. Adem had sent Alit'aren to discover why the potion had not arrived yet. They desperately needed a fresh batch to keep the wielders stable. He also wanted to allow the Aldebrands to wield arrows of flame, but he could not risk it yet without the arrival of more of the cure.

A vast demon horde surrounded the base of the massive mountain, hundreds of thousands swarming over the foothills to block their passage to the peak. Arawn assured Adem that Isabelle was being held near the top of Kerak'Otozi, as he could sense the presence of the Princess and Adem's son in her womb even while contained in his Resting Point. Adem already considered Hayley's warning however, so they attacked suddenly, gazing up at the towering black cone of rock that pulsed and flared with volcanic red flames; dark clouds flowing westward towards the Free Lands, and southwest to cover the Southlands, which it had done for thousands of years.

Before the Hex-Warlords could appear to possibly block them from summoning their Battle Angels, Adem shouted, 'Arawn! Balor! Llew Llaw Gyffes!' as Carl roared, 'Math Mathonwy! Angus!' just as Wil barked the names, 'Eledisren! Bran!' and Jean cried, 'Tanriel and Anwen!' The skies became aflame with coloured lightning bolts as a storm wind forced the dark cloud cover into a gaping vortex. It was drawing close to early morning, the sky above growing lighter through the thick grey haze. Thunder tore the air, as the Battle Angels formed a massive Link, but they would not last long enough to reach the peak of the mountain without the help of another. Drawing deeply through the enchanted golden gauntlets, Adem roared the word, 'Odin!'

Thunder echoed overhead as the lightning storm turned to blazing blue bolts, thick electric flame striking the demon hordes and blasting them to cinders and ash, but the lightning was falling much further than that, this was the lightning storm of the true Awakening of Odin! Arawn confirmed to Adem that this storm currently covered the entire Four Lands of Kismeria, and that the lightning strikes would be visible to every living man, woman and child alive at this moment. Adem wondered at the meaning behind this. It was a demonstration of immense Angel-Magic, that much he knew, but now was the time to act. Kelderath shouted commands, horns sounded, and the heavy cavalry charged the foothills where demons massed in dark waves.

Adem, Jean, Carl and Wil were each picked up by one of their Battle Angels and carried over the battlefield to land further up the base of Kerak'Otozi. They could not wield Portal-Magic to take them to the top, it had something to do with Fendinn's Resting Point blocking such Portal-Spells, and it would take hours to reach the summit even with assistance from their Battle Angels. But Adem had summoned Odin to provide the Battle Angels with the ability to remain free from their Resting Points for those hours it took to reach the top. They would be desperately needed to fight off whatever Jinn-Fendinn threw against them during their ascent.

Each of them landed only fifty to a hundred paces apart on the dark rocky slopes. Their Battle Angels hovered close by, as Wil started off sprinting up the mountain side wielding his glowing golden axe. He had the speed of an immortal, his fleet feet finding foot holds to spring from step to step in a blur. Adem watched Wil's golden breastplate; dark Alit'aren coat and trousers, charging up into the distance. Carl vanished via one of his alternative Portal-Magic techniques. Carl had been fortified in this ability when they discovered the Heart of Odin. Perhaps the summoning of Odin here and now was what also made it possible. Whatever the case, Adem spied his crimson armour and wicked red spear flashing upon different rock places as his trusted old companion made his ascent. Carl also wore the Alit'aren coat and trousers, as did Adem with dark blue armour embossed with black serpentine dragons across the chest. He drew his sword that glowed with blue light as he leapt like a giant grasshopper to land almost in line with Carl and Wil after a few jumps. This ability was also heightened by the summoning of Odin, and as he continued to ascend in massive leaping strides, Wings of Odin would flare out of his back while in mid-air, giving him extra distance as he soared upwards towards the peak.

Jean was soon catching up with Tanriel lifting her up on her burning blue wings, in glowing crimson armour and a shining dress of emerald fire. Jean was clutched by the shoulders as the Battle Angel flew to each new level, occasionally setting her down on top of a smooth stone slab as Tanriel scanned for signs of enemies. Jean wore silver armour over a black woollen coat and short skirt, embroidered with white foxes on the hem and sleeves. Her stockings were white wool with knee-high black leather boots. She wielded her neon blue blade, warily looking in every direction for the appearance of High-Servants or Hex-Keepers.

Adem heard the savage growls of demons below; looking back down the mountain to see Nymloc by the thousands scaling the slopes with their sharp claws and sinewy muscles. He was leaping for a higher perch when flares of crimson light appeared at intervals ahead, taking the form of High-Servants and Hex-Keepers in dark robes; their faces hidden beneath shadowed cowls. The Battle Angels reacted, Tanriel hurling down Flame Spears to scorch the demons below, as the others flew to lock blades with the High-Servants, or strike with bars of lightning and fire at the Shield-Spheres of the male and female Generals. Adem waited for Jean to be swept up by Tanriel again, before he leapt higher to keep close by her side. They were making progress, but they still had a long way to climb.

***

Jean watched as Carl's Battle Angel, Math Mathonwy, summoned his Shadow Hounds in a pack of over three hundred, massive dark bodied monsters clawing their way up the mountain sides in an attempt to make a meal of the High-Servants and Hex-Keepers. Arawn also brought Lions into the fray, hundreds of giant beasts formed of flesh and bone with thick shaggy manes; they roared with hunger as they pursued the enemy up the slopes of Kerak'Otozi. Llew's Spirit Wolves of blue flame were charging down the mountain to do battle with the demons that continued to climb in pursuit, biting and clawing through dark scaled flesh in sprays of black blood, crunching bones and skulls in their jaws.

Suddenly a massive boom filled the air, coming from the peak of the mountain. Crimson fire raged at the source, lava flowing down the top of the peak as a more terrible nightmarish roar was heard; deep within the heart of Kerak'Otozi. Jean asked Tanriel with her mind: Is that what I think it is?

The female Battle Angel swooped to pick Jean up by the shoulders; to carry her higher up the mountainside as she sent the reply via the kigare: It is the Return of the Jinn-Lord. We will soon be out of time!

What do you mean, out of time?

If Jinn-Fendinn is able to move freely beyond Kerak'Otozi, nothing in this world will be enough to stop him. Not even the combined might of all the Battle Angels will be enough.

So, what makes you think we can stop him now?

Jinn-Fendinn will still be weak when he first emerges from his Resting Point. We also have Odin to fight at our side at this crucial moment. With Angel-Magic of the Blue Water Dragon combined with Shienden's Dragonfire—

Enough, Tanriel! I get it! No plans, remember! So that is the secret? That is how we are going to win this war?

I'm still not certain if it will work. There may be another factor I have not yet considered. I am only going by my own Lore combined with the Ragnarök Prophecies.

Don't tell Adem! Jean demanded. We can't let him know what to do before he does it. We'll just have to trust to fate!

***

Hayley sat in her grey mare's blue leather saddle surrounded by a heavy guard of warriors, including the survivors of her Martyr Coven, those numbering over one hundred and seventy men and women. The charging heavy cavalry had been assisted with an escape path via Ael Tarael and Alit'aren blasting the foothills with Earth-Fire-Magic and Fire Pythons to blast clear enough space through the demon horde. Hayley summoned Druantia who provided thirty of her Green Men, each one standing over fifteen feet tall via the presence of Odin Lightning-Lord! She could not see the Great Angel in the lightning storm that fell from the clouds above Kerak'Otozi, but Druantia assured her that Odin was up there, and that he would appear to do battle with Jinn-Fendinn when the necessary time arrived.

The lightning storm was proof enough of Odin's presence, appearing to every human eye across the lands, along with the roar of thunder that sounded like a massive chorus of Angel Lions filling the heavens with their call. Druantia called the storm Odin's Awakening.

What does that mean? Hayley asked.

It is a part of the Prophecy. Druantia replied, her Green Men clubbing and stomping demons into dust with wooden fists and feet. Every child born of this storm will be gifted with special abilities, including Adem's heir if the time is near. They will be known as the Children of Odin.

Is that why the Jinn-Lord wants Adem's child? Do they plan to stop the Prophecies coming true?

They seek to alter the Prophecy, forming events in line with the Prophecies of the Shadow. The child being born here, at the peak of Kerak'Otozi, will put a spell of darkness within the heart of Adem's heir. It will be more corruptive than even Jinn-Magic or the curse; the child will always be drawn back to the Jinn-Lord and his schemes.

Then we are already too late? Hayley asked in despair.

There is still a chance we can save the child, and the Princess! This corruption that works within Isabelle's womb is not likely to have an effect on this world until the child is full grown, and even then, it may be many more years before the heir of Highlander is led into darkness.

Hayley was now in such a mood! She drew deeply from terael, fuelling the massive Green Men warriors as they began to smash and crush with greater ferocity, roaring like giant bears of vine and wood, driving demons into the earth with incredible speed and force! Green Dwarves spread from the impact of the blasts in sprays of emerald flame, hacking through demons with a fervour.

Kelderath barked orders and Archers, Aldebrands and Wood Kin formed a perimeter behind Alit'aren shields, the sky was filled with dark arrow shafts that rained down upon the charging demons. Kelderath roared again, 'Alit'aren, Ael Tarael, Earth Fire, Fire Leopards, Fire Pythons and Destruction-Magic! Shields ready! Blades ready! Cavalry form on flanks and prepare for a second charge!'

***

Serock charged through the end of the passes to sprint out on to the open fields of the southern borders of the Free Lands. His mare would need a rest soon, but the hours spent working through those miles of twists and turns had allowed him to recover some of his ability to wield. It was nearing morning, and the werewolves would turn back to human form soon, giving him a chance to put distance between himself and them that they would have trouble trying to regain.

Suddenly his keen immortal ears detected a great explosive noise, the rupturing of the volcanic peak at Kerak'Otozi. His lingering connection to the Magic of Jinn-Fendinn told him this truth deep within his heart and soul. He was nearly free again. Time was running short.

Howls of pursuit echoed through the ends of the passage where he had emerged from. Serock grasped for teron to form Portal-Magic large enough for the horse to bolt through with him mounted and crouching low against her mane. He passed through the shimmering sheet of light to land five miles northeast of his location. Moments later he formed another Portal-Spell, charging through, and then a third, each time jumping at least five miles or more northeast towards the East Lands and Kerak'Otozi. When first light arrived, he would need to give the mare a short rest however, and a drink. He decided he would call her Variha'kathell, which in the Old Torvellen Tongue meant Pale Wind Spirit.

***

Carl warped to a slab of dark stone as the volcano above poured out rivers of flaming hot lava. If Isabelle was up there, at the peak, she would not last long without some form of intervention. Carl launched a spray of crimson fire from the blade of his spear, striking the Shield-Sphere of one of the Hex-Keepers, a male with a dark beard and thick pointed black brows. The man responded by hurling a green lightning bolt at Carl's location, but Carl vanished in a warp of Air-Magic to land on a higher perch, watching below as a Shadow Hound pushed the figure on to the stone slopes, but the General also vanished before the Hound could tear off his skull.

Math Mathonwy swooped down to pick Carl up on wings of red flame; soaring into the air to ascend the mountainside, as did Tanriel with Jean in her arms. Wil still climbed with the speed of an immortal, leaping upwards with the agile grace of a wolf; his form a blur of motion. Adem kept up with those giant leaps as the Wings of Odin flared at his back, wielding his blue sword to lash out with sheets of Fire-Magic against his enemies.

They were all joined in a link, but Jinn-Magic was beginning to corrupt them all. If they had only managed to obtain more of the potion, before their ascent, this mission might have more potential for success. The air was also thick with volcanic ash, a choking atmosphere that burned in the throat. He formed a shield of Air-Magic—like a helmet—around his face and skull, wielding teron to fill the mask with fresh air. He told Math to explain these Angel-Spells to the other Battle Angels, and soon Adem, Wil and Jean were also each wearing a similar breathing apparatus.

He sprayed the demons along the mountainside with beams of crimson Fire-Magic, blazing eruptions of golden-orange flame blossomed within the horde to vaporize flesh; turning bone to dust!

***

Adem leapt high into the sky, Wings of Odin launching him higher to touch ground after moving upwards over thirty paces. Lions and Hounds charged around him on the mountain, gigantic beasts roaring with bloodlust as they spotted hordes of Boli-Kuldr further up the slopes. There were Nymloc amongst them, and Souljhin also, wielding wicked crimson blades that were deadly from the slightest cut.

Adem swept his sword in an arc of blue flames, Fire-Magic flooding upwards through the dark stone in massive blue sheets to slice through demon armour, melt flesh, incinerating bone! He punished them with waves of teron, his attacks spreading outwards in vast rivers of lightning and fire, surging upwards to purge their pathway of demon flesh.

Jinn-Magic was corrupting his mind. Rage filled his heart and soul, mixed with the foulness that plagued teron. He brought Fire Pythons from the sky, wielding in unison with Odin's Awakening; blazing bolts became snapping snake jaws, biting through demon hearts and chests, ripping bodies apart in sprays of dark blood!

Arawn, Llew and Balor were always close by, locking blades with the High-Servants that continued to appear, or hurling bars of Lightning-and-Fire-Magic at their crimson Shield-Spheres. Odin's presence made the Battle Angels stronger and faster than the High-Servants and Hex-Keepers, so the enemy were more a hindrance than a threat at this stage. However, Jinn-Magic was affecting the Battle Angels also. Being this close to the Resting Point of Jinn-Fendinn was increasing the Magic of the Schism. This meant the impure Jinn-Magic was becoming more concentrated.

Balor's giant Spirit Wolf, Shadowhunter, charged up ahead of Adem to attack the Boli-Kuldr horde, ram and bull skulled beasts wailing in terror as he snatched them up in his massive crushing jaws. Lions and Hounds assaulted the demons in force, clawing to shred through flesh with razor claws like sharpened steel; devouring the enemy in savage gulping bites.

Adem soared above his enemies to strike with Blades of Odin, wielding the full force of the link through the enchanted gauntlets. The Blades struck and drove into the rocky slopes to erupt in blasts of liquid-blue flames that tore skin and flesh from bone, slicing bodies apart or burning them to charred husks. His rage surged inside him like his own volcano about to erupt. He now felt the only thing that would return him to a state of calm would be to see Jinn-Fendinn entombed!

***

Tarz was preparing to evacuate the wall defences when a messenger arrived at his side to shout excitedly that a fresh batch of potion had arrived via portal. Tarz did not bother to question the man for long, but he was able to learn that all the Chemist Druids had been assassinated except for the one who had discovered the miracle cure. They had him hidden somewhere and had been preparing more medicine in secret.

Tarz had a number of men test the potion in fear of deception, then he began to bark orders for every Alit'aren and Aldebrand to fill their gourds from the large barrels that had arrived on a number of horse-drawn carts. The barrels were unloaded, and everyone began to fill their gourds and take a swig, all the while the wall being defended by Alit'aren and Ael Tarael Shield-Domes, with Archers, Wood Kin, Aldebrands, and Agnars holding back the demon swarms with arrows of wood and steel or their enchanted blades.

Tarz ordered the Archers, Wood Kin and Aldebrands to cover the walkways, with the Alit'aren lowering their shields to an angle below archer range as over thirty thousand warriors lowered their Lukrorian Bows. 'Archers, Flame Arrows!' The wall came alive with arrows of coloured fire, tens of thousands flying every second from the lines of bowmen that unleashed arrows with the fluid speed attributed only to immortals. The demons were hammered with blazing bolts of light that drove them into the dirt, cutting flesh and armour into a dark mass like melted butter. Skulls exploded, and limbs were torn free on impact, chests imploded in blasts of raw power, annihilating the enemy in a storm of incandescent fire.

'Alit'aren, unleash Fire Pythons and Destruction-Magic! Ael Tarael, Flame Leopards and Earth Fire!' Tarz grinned as the earth and skies lit up with sheets of crimson fire and flickering bolts of blue energy. They would turn the tide of the battle here and now. Ki'mera flowed from the slain demons in floating rivers of coloured light, replenishing the spirits of the warriors that fought with Angel-Magic, providing them with greater abilities as they formed linked chains to increase the strength of their attacks.

Tarz was concerned about the Druid who had created the potion. He wanted to leave his post to ensure the safety of the man, but he could not abandon this battle. If they lost the secret of this miracle cure, these years would surely be known as the beginning of the Age of Chaos.

***

Koncha and his army of Nightwalkers had flown through the night sky towards the Free Lands until the first light appeared on the horizon, thousands of werewolves following along the open fields. They were camped now at the foothills of the great mountain ranges that divided the Southlands from the southern border of the Free Lands. They were still on the south side of the ranges, as the cloud cover surging from the eruptions of Kerak'Otozi were only just now beginning to spill over and head north of the dividing range.

Those clouds would allow Koncha to lead his army north in daylight, to feed on the blood of the Free Landers that had been denied to them for millennia. Jinn-Fendinn was nearly free from Kerak'Otozi. Koncha could feel it in his heart, that old connection to evil in his soul. The sense belonged to the vampire curse in his veins. But Koncha no longer wished to rule alone and without guidance. He was willing to serve the High-Jinn and his High-Servants once again, if it would provide him with new lands for his vampires to feed and increase their numbers. The thought that irked him was that Tairark had managed to escape. Koncha feared the wrath of the other High-Servants when they learnt of his failure. He realised now that he should have killed the former Vampire-King when he had the chance.

A werewolf general in human form marched to his side to report that the Ruhalden King was leading an army to defend the southern side of the Free Lands. 'What are your orders, Lord Koncha?'

Koncha saw blue lightning falling from every corner of the sky, and they had witnessed this storm for a number of hours now as night turned into morning light. Odin's Awakening was upon them also. That could make trouble for his plans, yet here the bolts did not strike with vengeance against his faithful followers. It was however a disturbing display of Angel-Magic, and it made him more than uncomfortable. His scouts reported that even on the northern side of the dividing ranges, the lightning could be seen falling for miles into the distance. It was everywhere, even where there was no cloud cover the bolts fell like pillars of fire. 'Prepare to invade,' Koncha replied. 'Ruhalden blood is a rich delicacy.' The werewolf snorted; he was of the Ruhalden blood before he became infected. 'They will be the first to join us. The Vampire Covens will swell in number once more, as they did many an Age ago. A feast awaits us!'

***

Isabelle sat crouched and in pain near the peak of Kerak'Otozi. Lava flowed around her small island of dark rock; her location protected by a small Shield-Dome with fresh air inside. This suggested they wanted her child to live, and her also, at least to serve as bait until Adem arrived. As she gazed down the massive mountainside, she caught glimpses of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor rising upwards to her rescue, lightning and flames blossoming around their tiny forms as well as those of their Battle Angels ascending on wings of flame.

They were still so far away; only the eyes of an immortal would be able to make out any detail, other than the glowing halo around dark dots and blankets of erupting fire that launched at their enemies in blazing sheets. Kerak'Otozi was massive, this high up she would not be able to breathe even if the air was pure. It was the highest point in all the Four Lands. Isabelle still had no idea why they had brought her here as bait, but she sensed the evil emanating from the heart of the mountain, and she was terrified it was infecting her child in the womb.

The Shield-Spell also blocked the terrible heat of the fountains of smoke, ash and fire that rose from the tip of the volcano into the morning sky, billowing with clouds that would soon cover the Free Lands if Jinn-Fendinn was not defeated. Suddenly a High-Servant appeared in a warp of crimson Air-Magic, his blood red mask telling her instantly it was Zefriok Hellfiend, one of those who had captured her and murdered her protectors! She screamed at him in outrage. 'What do you want with me, monster?' Zefriok tilted his hooded mask to one side, as if trying to listen through the Shield-Dome, she realised then she would not hear him even if he answered her. Then she noticed faded human apparitions floating towards and on to the same slab of dark stone. In a sudden panic she realised the intent of her captors. Those were possession spirits!

They wanted the Sons of Odin to become mad from Jinn-Magic by the time they reached the summit. Then Adem and his friends would be helpless puppets for these evil spirits to control! She screamed and beat at the shield in fits of terror and rage.

***

Kenith Maldros barked orders at his captains and lieutenants as tens of thousands of Agnars, Aldebrands and Archers manned the wall where demons surged like a dark tide. He had ordered the Alit'aren to cease wielding anything other than shields to protect the warriors defending the walkways, as he feared Jinn-Magic was getting beyond containment in most of them, and there were not enough Ael Tarael provide Healing-Magic for them all in the time needed to continue using Elemental Magic. Despite this problem; that Odin storm was still flaring with blue lightning, everywhere he looked he saw blazing blue tridents falling from the sky, and the roar of thunder ever rolling through the heavens.

During this time that the demon army looked capable of overwhelming their defences, an Ael Tarael had approached with a possible way to hold just a little longer. Lira Tolnock, a beautiful immortal woman, dark of hair and eyes, had made the request for her to form linked chains with male and female wielders, to support her attempts to use mind control over some of the demon horde, via the recently discovered technique known as the Jinn Arts.

It was potentially as dangerous as allowing Alit'aren to wield Angel-Magic without restraint or the curing potion, but he was left with no other choice but to agree to her request. What followed was a surprise, even given his expectations. Lira was able to connect with thousands of Boli-Kuldr that were swarming in the front ranks, controlling their minds to make them her willing servants. Suddenly the eight-and-ten-feet-tall demons were turning to strike at their fellow monsters with a glorious frenzy, massive dark spears, tridents and swords hacking and stabbing through demon flesh as the enemy began to fall back in waves under the unexpected massacre from their own forces!

Maldros would call the test successful from what he could see, yet he clearly noted the terrible strain written on Lira's visage, and that of her female companions joined in the chain. He allowed the demonstration to continue for about twelve minutes, and by that time the enemy were pushed back almost out of bow range. At that time a captain ran to his side to report that a fresh batch of the cure had arrived through a portal! 'What took them so damn long?' Kenith snapped at the captain, and when he heard the reply, he asked, 'How many barrels?'

'Five!' shouted the captain with a fist to chest. 'It is the last of the current batch, General Maldros!'

'Give me one barrel!' Maldros shouted with a grin. 'Get the rest to Kerak'Otozi immediately!' He then ordered that every Alit'aren obtain a full swig of the miracle cure, as well as the Ael Tarael that had just engaged in the Jinn Arts link. They had bought him a few more hours at least. Yet his heart sank as he watched thousands of the slaughtered demons rise up again, biting and clawing against the wave of Boli-Kuldr under mind control. What hope did they have against an army of demons that would not die? 'Alit'aren, I want every man on the wall! Prepare to assault!' His voice was drowned out by the roar of demons advancing in endless waves.

***

Erroll Condallore, King of the Ruhalden Sea Immortals sat his grey stallion at the foothills of the great mountain ranges that divided the Free Lands from the Southlands. He'd brought a vast host of warriors from his surrounding kingdoms to face the vampire plague that was soon to invade. A fierce storm wind was forcing those unnatural clouds to spill northwards into the Free Lands, and soon the vampires would be free to move under its shroud.

Erroll had wielders at his disposal, Ael Tarael, Alit'aren and Aldebrands, but he would not allow them to fight with Angel-Magic as they were yet to receive their first supply of the miracle potion that was said to be a cure. Therefore, their only appointed role was to provide Shield-Magic to protect Erroll and his First Captains. There were not enough wielders to provide Shield-Domes for his entire force; so many had been sent to the Borderlands and other cities that he had to make do with what was left to him. Captain General Mijharz moved his horse to his side to report with fist to chest, 'The vampires are now headed this way, my King.'

'How many are out there?' Erroll asked. He'd sent scouts to get an estimate of the size of the vampire forces.

'More than ten thousand including the werewolves,' Mijharz replied with a grim expression. Erroll groaned in despair at the news. His forces were only fifty thousand strong, and without sufficient number of wielders to protect them, his warriors would provide a feeding ground. 'A report has also arrived that Highlander has invaded the East Lands!'

'Do not speak that name in my presence!' Erroll barked in irritation. 'I will boil Adem Highlander in his boots for breakfast the next time we meet! Unless, he decides to do the honourable thing and marry my daughter!' Erroll would have sought a solution to that travesty long ago if he had not been so caught up with preparations for these approaching battles. It was a shame to his House and his authority as King, the scandal of impregnating his daughter and still refusing to marry her! He clenched his teeth in outrage at the notion.

'But there is more, my King!' Mijharz stammered. 'Reports state that your daughter, Isabelle, has been captured by the High-Servants!'

'What did you just say?' Erroll asked; confounded at the words he had just heard.

'I'm afraid it's true, King Erroll. Highlander has attacked at Kerak'Otozi with a large army to attempt her rescue!'

'If he fails, I'll have him drawn and quartered!' Erroll shouted in frantic anger; feeling suddenly unbalanced by shock. This was ill news, very disturbing indeed. If he did not have his duty here, he would've run horses ragged to reach the East Lands himself. 'I rue the day I ever set eyes on His Majesty the Blue bloody Water Dragon!' His rage was stilled by the sight of hundreds of men and women swarming over the mountain peaks, flying overhead and swooping down towards them with eyes like large black seeds. 'Archers! Spears! Blades at the ready! We hold them back here or the land will surely fall!'

Archers and Aldebrands unleashed waves of dark arrow shafts into the sky, striking chests and skulls with precision as vampire bodies began to fall with a heavy thud! Others reached their targets, flying to pull riders from horseback as their massive fangs tore through necks to drink and spread their evil curse. Werewolves in the hundreds began to pour forth from the mountain paths. Jinn-Fendinn escaping his prison must have been the reason the creatures could change form during the daylight hours, but neither vampire nor werewolf could advance any further than the borders of those clouds. Werewolves could walk in daylight anywhere in human form, but Erroll prayed they were still restricted by the cloud cover to remain in the form of deadly beasts. The vampires would need to feed again if they wished to continue flying, and they required human blood for that ability. That would keep them focused on attacking his forces here, buying some time for the Sons of Odin to do whatever they had planned. He lowered his helmet visor with sword raised high as horns sounded; the cavalry roared as their horses began to charge. What they needed now was a miracle.

The charge crashed head on into a swarm of massive werewolves, snarling and barking as spears stabbed and blades cleaved; horses stomping the demons under hooves. Vampires swooped from the skies, tearing riders from the saddle all around him. Soon his defenders were diminished on all sides, leaving him alone to defend himself from a pack of snarling beasts that charged towards him on all fours! Erroll roared like an old bear as he swung his sword to chop at the skulls of a number of dark-skinned monsters—splitting skulls in a dark spray as the beasts collapsed beside his charging steed—when a larger grey Wolf sprang forth to bite down on his horse's neck. Erroll went flying headfirst out of the saddle, falling with a heavy crunch that assured him his neck was broken.

His next moments were a blur. He stood to survey the battlefield with a blue haze surrounding his form as he began to float off the ground in stunned horror. Mijharz shouted in despair, 'The King is down! Rally to me, men! Summon your courage! Do not let the enemy pass!'

As he began to ascend into a white light in the sky, Erroll thought of his beloved wife who would now live out eternity as a widow, his dear daughter and future grandchild captured by the enemy, and the fate of the world resting on the shoulders of one man.

Highlander, you'd better redeem yourself, son!

***

Serock arrived at the foothills of Kerak'Otozi at the same moments that Kelderath became aware of the fresh supply of potion. 'Good gods, man!' Kelderath cried when he saw the former Vampire-King. 'Where the hell have you been?'

'Where are the Sons of Odin?' Serock asked, still riding bareback on a fine pale altherin mare. The animal was lathered with sweat, though Serock had arrived via Portal-Magic moments before. The horse was still looking agile however, and when Serock explained his purpose, Kelderath offered to supply a fresh mount. Serock waved a hand in refusal, saying, 'She'll get me there, just get me a gourd of that potion, and fill it to the brim!'

When the gourd was provided, Serock took a sip, and then charged for the slopes of the mountain, finding a path to the base via a short distance Portal-Spell that the horse charged through; scaling the mountain with ease. Kelderath watched in awe as the pale horse carried him up the slopes like a grey phantom—Serock was also still able to create short Portal-Spells to carry him and the mare higher at certain intervals, perhaps some link to the Jinn-Lord's Magic that remained in him could be used here, so close to Kerak'Otozi. Within minutes they were lost from his sight.

'I'm glad he's still on our side!' Kelderath barked to Morthros who sat his saddle at his side. 'Prepare another charge! Archers at the ready! Alit'aren, Ael Tarael, drink up if you're thirsty!'

He was considering exactly how he would make this demon army suffer when Orion Demon-Slayer was at his side, his wife Elmira, and Tobin and Lydia with him also. 'I need one of those Alit'aren that can create Portal-Spells!' Orion shouted over the bloodthirsty roar of demons.

'What do you have in mind?' Kelderath asked, he needed men and women like these four here to fight for him, but when Orion explained his purpose, Kelderath grinned like an old lion ready for the battle of his life.

'Elarja is desperately needed here and now,' Orion said before he departed, 'or else I would use his ability to the same end. I will not fail you! We shall return!'

Chapter 20

Heroes Old and New

Adem had Isabelle in sight! He leapt into the air, Wings of Odin carrying him over fifty feet higher than his incredible jump would normally achieve, landing beside her on the small stone island where lava poured in rivers to either side. Kerak'Otozi roared as fire and lava flowed forth, ash clouds flowing into the sky that were pushed by a fierce wind at this height.

Isabelle was encased in a shield, she was bashing at the invisible wall with her fists frantically and trying to warn him of something, but he could not hear a word from inside that bubble of Fire-and-Air-Magic. Carl, Wil and Jean soon caught up, carried the final distance by Math, Dis Pater and Tanriel on wings of crimson, golden and aqua flame. Adem tried to destroy the Shield-Dome by pressing in around it with the Fists of Odin. Sparks flew around the globe in response, he focused flows of teron into the sphere, but he did not have time to figure out if it would work.

High-Servants and Hex-Keepers were suddenly all around them! Adem lashed out with bars of liquid-blue flame, striking a High-Servant's Shield-Spell, then another at Calliestra Shadow-Heart that was also blocked by a wall of Air-Magic. What occurred next was all out chaos! Jean, Adem, Carl and Wil were hurling arcs of coloured fire from their enchanted weapons, the Battle Angels also joining in to blast the mountainside with rupturing balls of flame wherever the enemy appeared. The High-Servants and Hex-Keepers fought back, throwing lightning and fire that struck Shield-Magic, the abilities of Adem and his friends were now also significantly enhanced by the presence of their Battle Angels.

Adem was distracted from his attempt to rescue Isabelle—and this battle had continued for some time, Jinn-Magic driving Adem and his friends closer to the brink of madness—when Zefriok Hellfiend appeared behind her Shield-Spell, waving his dark gauntlet as both he and Isabelle vanished in a warp of Air-Magic. Panic struck Adem as Arawn confirmed via the kigare that she was now deep within the heart of Kerak'Otozi. He did not waste a moment; his friends were still locked in battle, hurling energies that surged through the dark rocks towards their enemies, when Adem harnessed the bulk of Angel-Magic of their link, Wings of Odin bursting from his shoulders to spread to either side of his form.

He launched high into the sky, soaring up the last distance to the peak of the volcano where smoke, ash and flames surged upwards. With a Shield-Sphere surrounding his form, filled with sufficient air inside of it, Adem plunged headfirst into the fires of the volcano! As he descended into darkness with the funnel of fire at the centre of the massive tunnel, the surging light within began to change colours, from crimson to golden, emerald to aqua and violet, then white as starlight. Arawn, Llew and Balor soared down within the tunnel also, keeping close by his side as they sought out Isabelle's location.

The heat of the tunnel was excruciating despite the Shield-Magic, Adem felt his flesh was being stripped from his bones, his bones turning to ashes, his soul melting into oblivion ... he fell endlessly ... incredible pain filled his heart and soul ... he wanted to scream, but there was no sound ... only the voice of Jinn-Fendinn: SO, YOU HAVE COME TO MEET YOUR DOOM, HIGHLANDER! YOUR SUFFERING WILL BE ETERNAL ONCE I HAVE YOU IN MY GRASP! YOU WILL BURN, SON OF ODIN! YOU WILL BURN FOR ALL ETERNITY!

Adem saw the massive dark shape of a muscular human form emerging from the pits below, carved by a red haze. Fendinn had eyes of golden flame within dark sockets, the skull of a ram with twisted black horns! Adem raised his fists to strike with twin Blades of Odin! Fifty feet long swords of blue fire struck Fendinn in his chest, lightning pulsing around the massive black chest and torso.

YOU ARE WEAK, SON OF ODIN! NOTHING YOU TRY TO DO WILL BE ENOUGH TO HALT MY DESTRUCTION OF THIS WORLD! SOON, I SHALL BE FREE AGAIN! CHAOS WILL RULE KISMERIA! ALL WILL BEG TO SERVE, OR BE CRUSHED LIKE WORMS!

Despite the bold words, the Jinn-Lord fell through the endless tunnel of shadows, Adem also descending, but with a vengeance. Four Blades of Odin blasted through Fendinn's chest! Fire Serpents entwining his shadow form as he roared like a pride of lions.

YOU CANNOT WIN! I WILL DESTROY YOU AND YOUR BROTHERS NO MATTER WHAT TRICKS YOU MAY ATTEMPT! I HAVE YOUR SON! HE SHALL BE MY SWORD AND SHIELD WHEN HE COMES OF AGE! HE WILL SERVE THE SHADOW AND WREAK HAVOC IN MY NAME!

Adem roared in outrage! Six Odin Blades struck in a spinning diamond formation, slicing through Fendinn's chest as they both descended into shadows and flame.

***

Carl swung in a leftwards slash with his crimson spear, sheets of red flame flowing in an arc towards a Dark General, Ogrell Light-Blinder, dark of eyes with a close-cropped black beard. Ogrell met the attack with a Shield-Sphere, the flames swarming around the man as he prepared to retaliate. Yet Carl was gone before the man hit back with a bar of emerald flame, Carl dodging the attack by warping to a higher position on the mountainside; throwing a wave of molten liquid at the stone where Ogrell still stood, though the man also vanished in a warp before the attack reached him.

Carl spun to face Torkhan, the High-Servant's eyes of flame burning within the silver skull mask that covered his ruined face. Both lashed out with bolts of lightning, Carl's blue Fire Serpents that locked jaws around the ball of green energy that flew from Torkhan's fists. The two attacks pulsed and flared between them, each standing over twenty feet from the centre where the energies clashed, until the colliding attacks exploded in a blast of crimson and green sparks, both men vanished before the impact spread outwards in a large sphere.

Carl met him again higher up the slope of Kerak'Otozi. Here, on this side of the mountain, the lava flows were not extreme, though it flowed in vast channels down the opposite side. Carl, Jean and Wil still required their Battle Angels at times to lift them up and place them on a safer perch, the dark stones melting under the rivers of molten liquid that formed impassable pathways as it flowed from the peak.

Math Mathonwy soared above him now, wielding his Hellfire Spear to blast High-Servants with sheets of fire that raged across the stone surface in a surging conflagration. Angus also kept close to Carl, providing him with a stronger Shield-Sphere in case Carl was not able to dodge any sudden attacks. The Shield-Magic also provided air to breathe, protection from the heat of the volcano, but more importantly Angus also provided Healing-Magic to Carl's mind and body via one of his unique abilities, rejuvenating his spirit and that of Jean and Wil when they were in range of one of his enchanted spheres. At the same time Angus swung his glowing staff; launching bolts of emerald fire at the High-Servants and Hex-Keepers. If it weren't for the presence of their Battle Angels joining in the attack, Carl, Wil and Jean would already be defeated.

There were at least seven High-Servants that constantly appeared to attack then vanished again via their unique Portal-Magic. There were also three female Hex-Keepers and four males that joined in the assault. Most were kept occupied by the four male and two female Battle Angels still at their disposal, yet Carl wished he still had Arawn, Llew and Balor to assist them also.

Adem had been a fool to fly into Fendinn's lair! It was surely a trap, and he might not be able to escape. Carl, Jean and Wil had considered going after him—discussing an attempt via their Battle Angels through the kigare—but Adem was on his own now. They had to remain here to do what they could to slow Fendinn from breaking free from the mountain. Carl worried that there was possibly very little they were capable of, due to Arig's advice that only Adem, Odin and Shienden had any real potential to do the Jinn-Lord any harm.

He struck again at Torkhan, crimson and emerald energies clashing in another blast of flames. He shifted a hundred metres northeast of his position; even here the tip of the volcano was a vast surface that appeared flatter than curved when standing on the slopes. The lightning storm of Odin's Awakening still filled every corner of the sky, combating the emerging Magic of Jinn-Fendinn.

Carl vanished again before Torkhan's waves of molten fire avalanched his position from higher up, landing behind the High-Servant to drive his spear through the back of his crimson Shield-Sphere. Fire-Magic erupted from the tip of the spear within the shield, Torkhan roared in outrage as flames surged across his shadow cloak. He vanished again before Carl could wield again, but here at Kerak'Otozi the High-Servants and Generals were enhanced in attack strength and defence, by their proximity to the Jinn-Lord.

***

Wil stood upon a stone wedge with lava streaming down either side. A white bearded Hex-Keeper appeared twenty paces ahead, immediately throwing a bar of emerald lightning at Wil that was blocked by a Shield-Spell. Wil roared as he swung his golden axe, amber fire launched in an arc to sweep towards the Dark General, striking a crimson shield as the shadow cloaked figure vanished in a warp.

Wil leapt to a higher stone slab as Zefriok appeared in the sky, aiming his crimson blade as sheets of red lightning launched towards Wil's location. Dis Pater was suddenly flying to attack the High-Servant, his massive golden axe striking a crimson Shield-Sphere as Zefriok fought back with fists of flame, his red blade locking with Dis Pater's axe; crimson and golden lightning blasted from the weapons, striking the side of the mountain to rupture in balls of flame.

Wil had been saved by the Shield-Magic again, enhanced by his Battle Angels; it was enough to withstand multiple attacks from High-Servants and Generals. The problem, Wil realised, was that he was being forced to wield too much of teron, and his senses were feeling the pressure of Jinn-Magic on his mind. Soon it might be too much for him to stand. They desperately needed Jean to provide Healing-Magic to reduce the symptoms, but she was constantly being chased by the female Hex-Keepers as she fought back desperately with Elemental Magic.

Even Jean was at risk while exerting so much Angel-Magic. The curse on terael was still not properly studied or understood in its potential effects, but Wil could sense her strain to endure the shadows that would be constricting upon her heart and mind, though the curse on male and female magic was a spiritual infection, in the case of Carl and Wil, they knew the dangers. If Adem did not return soon with a sign of victory, this battle would drive the Sons of Odin into complete and irreversible madness. Only the miracle cure could have any hope of restoring them to stability, and up here, there was no hope of obtaining a single drop.

He charged along the mountainside, his feet so fast he would appear as a blur to the human eye. Fire-Magic struck the ground in front of him, moving towards him in bubbling waves of magma. He turned to see another blast strike from behind, both moving towards him as he reinforced his Shield-Magic to meet the attacks. Bran swooped down to lift him high above the flames as they began to strike his Shield-Sphere. Wil watched the Fire-Magic cover the mountain where he'd been standing, more attacks from High-Servants hovering in the skies.

Adem, whatever you're trying to do down there; get it done!

***

Serock charged up the massive dark mountain with the speed of a storm wind. The horse was swift even for altherin, and the sprint towards Kerak'Otozi had still left the animal capable of moving with supernatural agility as it scaled the craggy dark stones. Serock created portals every chance he was able, using up vast stores of his own ability to wield to reach the summit in enough time to achieve his aims.

There were still demons this high up, Boli-Kuldr and Nymloc positioning their ranks in wedges that served as large dark barriers as he continued to climb, and he did not have the strength to lash out at them with teron. His only option was to bypass them with Portal-Magic, and so far, this technique had saved him a number of times, as he was able to jump at least far enough to avoid confronting the demons or getting within range of their blades and spears.

He whispered in the mare's ear in Aelfin Tongue, urging it onwards and upwards. This climb may kill the horse from exhaustion, but it would be for a most worthy cause, countless lives may be saved by her sacrifice. The horse charged through another Portal-Spell that carried her hundreds of feet higher, though here at Kerak'Otozi, Serock was limited in how far he could jump with such Angel-Spells. It was only his old spiritual connection to the Magic of the High-Jinn that made it possible for him to create Portal-Spells at all. This lingering connection was an important part of his plan, a link to the Shadow that might be of some vital use if he could reach the mountaintop in time.

He spotted another Boli-Kuldr horde gathered up ahead, and he had no strength left at this point to form another Portal-Spell. He changed course, charging sideways across the rock surface in an attempt to find another passage. The demons spotted him also, their guttural cries filling his ears as he bolted to avoid their falling spears.

***

Adem soared upwards through endless darkness ... eternal suffering drenched his bones ... he felt that his bones were burning, his flesh being stripped from bone ... below him Fendinn rose as a massive shadow with the skull of a ram, eyes glowing hot crimson.

GIVE IN, SON OF ODIN! MY POWER SURPASSES YOU! YOU ARE WEAK! YOU ARE NOTHING! THERE IS NO HOPE FOR YOU, OR FOR THIS WORLD! WHEN I ACHIEVE VICTORY, I WILL MAKE YOU MY PUPPET TO BATHE KISMERIA IN BLOOD AND TURMOIL!

Adem pointed his palms down flat, Blades of Odin falling to strike Fendinn in the skull, electric blue bolts coursing around his shadow flesh. But the Jinn-Lord laughed, his terrible voice echoed through the endless caverns.

YOU HAVE NO POWER TO DESTROY ME! MY VICTORY IS AT HAND! SURRENDER TO ME AND I SHALL SPARE YOU FURTHER TORMENT!

Eight Blades of Odin struck in a diamond, piercing the Jinn-Lord in the chest as the massive dark claw reached for him ... He continued to soar upwards through the shadows, carried by Wings of Odin ... Endless pain filled his heart and soul ... Eternal suffering.

Adem shouted through the pain, 'Give me back my son!' Fendinn laughed again, the sound resonated like a gale force wind, carrying the stench of decay.

YOU WILL LOSE HOPE BEFORE THE END! YOUR DESPAIR WILL BE MY TRIUMPH! GIVE UP, SON OF ODIN! YOU CANNOT WIN!

***

Orion, Elmira, Lydia and Tobin arrived at Tarvel with the Alit'aren Ellori Kane who had created the Portal-Magic. They opened the Portal-Spell inside a heavily bolted vault within secret tunnels in high chambers of the castle, known only to Orion and Elmira and a handful of Torvellen Lords and Ladies. The passageways were built when the castle was first constructed, though even the immortal builders who had taken part in their design and construction would be long gone from history.

However, the item Orion was searching for was not in the vault. The chest where it had been stored was flung open with the lock broken, suggesting a wielder had been involved in the theft, as the lock was protected by dangerous Lock-Magic that would cause the one who opened the lock to explode into ash and fire. Whatever the case, the Harp of Souls had been taken! Orion groaned as he inspected the lock to assure himself that whoever had opened it must have had some knowledge of how to disable the deadly triggers.

'Who else knew that we had the Harp stored here?' Elmira asked with concern.

'I told no one!' Orion snapped. Carl Wilder had helped him hide the precious talisman; he was the only other person aware of its location. 'It must have been one of those lords and ladies contesting for the Torvellen Throne.' That worried Orion to even contemplate, given that Adem had explained of rumours that High-Servants and Hex-Keepers were disguising themselves as some of those leaders to manipulate the people of Torvis. When Orion mentioned this theory, Tobin asked, 'Do you think it is still here, in the castle?'

'That is the question we must answer,' Orion replied. 'We must find out who took it!'

***

Serock was approaching the peak of the mountain. Battle Angels and High-Servants filled the skies, battling with weapons that erupted in lightning blasts; scorching the rock surface on impact. Lava flowed in thin rivers on this side, in other places the streams were wider, but his mare swiftly made it close to Carl Wilder who was holding his ground against Baidel, one of the male Hex-Keepers with hard dark eyes. Baidel was trying to overpower the Son of Odin as bolts of energy launched between them to shatter in a roar of sparks.

Serock raised his fist from horseback, crimson light flaring between his fingers as Baidel began to cry out in pain before vanishing in a warp. Serock still had some capacity to overpower his former associates. When Carl locked eyes with him, Serock held out the potion, throwing the gourd at the Son of Odin.

'What are you doing here?' Carl asked with shock written on his face. He caught the gourd and opened the stopper to sniff the liquid, staring at Serock as he said, 'We were told the vampires were holding you captive.' Then he held the gourd out in front of him as he asked, 'Is this the cure, or poison?'

'I was a prisoner, but I escaped!' Serock pleaded. 'It is the cure! I am still on your side. You must drink, Carl Wilder, there are possession spirits all around you! If you lose your senses, they will overpower you!'

Carl gazed about warily, taking a moment to measure the risks before he said, 'If this is a trick, it is your soul that will suffer for it.'

'I swear, Carl Wilder, by all the Angels, in the name of God, I am here to save you! You must drink and convince the others!' Serock saw that Jinn-Magic was already damaging Carl's mind. He scanned the mountain to spot Wil and Jean in combat with Hex-Keepers, fire unleashed from their weapons in raging waves. A moment later Carl took a small sip, and then Serock watched as his eyes bulged, the look of a clear mind returning to his face. 'Yes! Yes, do you see now? Drink more! Then get it to your friends! But where is Highlander?'

Carl took another large gulp and wiped his lips before he replied in an irate tone, 'He has gone down inside the mountain.' Serock groaned at his words. Even he was not capable of getting inside to assist Highlander or provide him with the cure. Highlander would be locked in combat until Jinn-Magic made him helpless to resist being possessed. It seemed obvious to him now that the Jinn-Lord was going to win.

'There is something more, Carl Wilder!' Serock shouted. 'When I give the signal, you must allow me to join with your link, between you, Adem, Wil and Jean.'

'That would be dangerous,' Carl replied. 'What is the reason for it?'

'I do not hold the secret to sealing the High-Jinn in Kerak'Otozi,' Serock replied, 'but I have some of his Jinn-Magic, that will play an important role. Fendinn cannot see and hear through my mind; I can block him with my old abilities. If I tell you the secret, he will know, and the plan may not work! But it is vital knowledge that I hold! I swear to you that this is the truth!' Serock watched as the plan took shape in the mind of Carl Wilder.

'What will be your signal?'

***

Orion entered a large chamber filled with Torvellen warriors, Aldebrands, Agnars and Steel Guard armed and armoured. They had learnt that the man known as Lord Haimlad, an aged Torvellen ruler had taken the Harp of Souls. Here Haimlad sat in a throne at the heart of the chamber; dark hawk eyes with a nose like a chiselled beak, white at his temples like bristling feathers. He wore dark armour embossed with Grey Falcons, the sigil of House Haimlad, but Orion was certain the man was an imposter.

Haimlad clutched the Harp of Souls to his chest as Orion entered with Elmira, Lydia and Tobin following, along with Ellori Kane. They sensed immediate hostility from the warriors in the room, whether they were compelled by some dark spell or just loyal to their leader, Orion could not tell. He did however sense their uncertainty as Orion began to speak with Haimlad.

'Lord Haimlad, you must hand over the Harp!' Orion began. 'Our forces face a vast demon horde at Kerak'Otozi. The Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor are locked in combat with High-Servants and Hex-Keepers.' He emphasised the words 'High-Servants,' as he was almost certain this man was in fact Harkrost Soul-Blinder. Harkrost had always been one to use clever disguises, and he was a tactical man when he lived another life in service to the All-Father. 'But you already know this, don't you?' Orion grinned in a dangerous way, giving Harkrost the understanding that they would fight if necessary, to obtain the Harp. The five of them shared a link and had done before entering the room.

Angel-Magic flowed strongly through Orion's veins, yet the corruption on teron was latent violence that he strained to endure. 'Tell me, Lord Haimlad, where did you and I first meet? What were your words to me then?' It was a clever question, as the conversation had been in private, when Orion was a young boy with his life turned to ashes after the murder of his mother and father. Orion remembered well how Lord Haimlad had told Orion that he 'would one day have to learn to judge the value of the Law,' in reference to a belief that Orion may one day become King of the Torvellen. Harkrost's face contorted at the question, a confounded expression on the Illusion-Magic of Haimlad's visage.

'I do not quite clearly recall, Orion Demon-Slayer. Forgive me.'

'You are a lying imposter!' Orion shouted, tension building in the warriors as fingers gripped spear hafts and sheathed sword hilts. Orion knew they would not attack their former King, however. Torvellen loyalty ran deep in the blood of his people, but here they were torn between two rulers, and their expressions revealed internal conflict.

This also confirmed something else for Orion. Jinn-Fendinn and his minions may be able to see through his eyes and hear via his ears, but evidently, they could not read his mind, or else Harkrost would have the answer. It was possible that only Fendinn had this ability if any of them, and it therefore seemed likely there was no telepathy between Fendinn and his High-Servants. If Harkrost needed to know what someone was thinking, he would need to obtain that information from the Jinn at Kerak'Otozi.

Harkrost stood, still clutching the Harp to his chest as he shouted, 'Kill them all! They are traitors to the rightful ruler of Torvis! Strike hard and fast; drench these halls with their blood!' But no one moved, all eyes were on Orion, he stood tall and proud, knowing his eyes would be shooting off sparks as they locked with Harkrost. In that moment, Orion felt the Aldebrands in the room open themselves to join in his link. He instinctively allowed over thirty to add to his chain—combined with Lydia and Elmira as well as another four Ael Tarael who stood further back behind the male warriors, to increase the density of the force of the link—giving him the strength to Shield-Trap even one of the Hex-Warlords!

Harkrost wailed as Shields of Air-Magic locked in around him, forcing his arms to his sides as the Harp fell with a heavy clang! The Shield-Trap also cut Harkrost off from Angel-Magic completely, the moment it was achieved; there was no chance that he might escape. Orion strode defiantly towards the High-Servant, who was now in his true form, a hooded cloak of shadows revealing an un-masked face that was grey like crumbling ashes, though his dark empty eye sockets flared with golden rage. Even with such a powerful link, Harkrost must have been temporarily weakened to be so easily overpowered. Orion considered that perhaps Harkrost had been the first to become wounded by Highlander's Odin Spear during the attack at Nordhel when the Sons of Odin had first arrived in Kismeria. What better way to lick your wounds and still work the Jinn-Lord's schemes than to pose as a Torvellen ruler to try to obtain influence over a nation.

'Behold your Lord Haimlad!' Orion shouted as all stared in shock and realisation. Orion drew his sword, the golden light flicked in a horizontal flare to sever the High-Servant's neck from his shoulders. As the body fell to spill dark blood onto the paved flooring, Orion lifted the Harp and turned to the warriors, saying; 'You would be welcome to join the fight, though I cannot lead you. You will do it for your own reasons, for honour and duty.' Even entering Tarvel without one of the Sons of Odin or the Daughter of Thor was against Jean Fairsythe's decree, for which they may one day be punished. But these were desperate times. He had no choice but to act. The warriors began to cheer his name, shouting, 'Orion, slayer of Hex-Warlords!'

***

Kelderath was winning, driving the demons back with Alit'aren and Aldebrands wielding their Elemental Magic. But the demons were still not dying, not all of them. Hope rested on Highlander restoring balance to the land. Lightning-Arrows flew horizontal from thousands of Lukrorian Bows, blasting demons with powerful energies that tore through bone and melted flesh! Alit'aren were wielding Earth-Fire-Magic and Fire Pythons, and the Ael Tarael assisted with the newly discovered Jinn Arts to control Rahkwel and Boli-Kuldr, turning them against their own kind.

The battle was enormous, his hundred thousand warriors holding back a dark sea of scales and muscular plated hides, bull and ram skulls with eyes of coloured flame shining wicked in the grey midday haze. Time was of the essence also; their supply of the potion was running dry. He'd used a large portion to provide the Aldebrands with stable minds to allow them to use their enchanted bows. That had been of good use so far, cutting down tens of thousands of demons; melting armour and flesh into a mass like burning tar.

The enemy was being driven back towards Kerak'Otozi, though he needed to keep them fighting here to avoid them scaling the mountain slopes. That many demons would be too much for the Sons and Daughter to battle up there alone, even if their Battle Angels remained at their sides.

Kelderath was barking orders when a dark shadow loomed before him. He was standing now with his sword drawn, and he brandished the shining steel at Calliach's dark cowl as he cried, 'Not now, man! I'm busy! Come back later!'

But it was hopeless to resist. He decided then that if this one part of the balance could be restored, perhaps it would be a good thing. He turned to Morthros as he shouted, 'You're taking over command here! Do not fail me!' Morthros gazed up at the dark spectre with a stunned expression, and then swallowed the lump in his throat before he began to shout commands. Hundreds of warriors were swarming to Kelderath's defence when he raised his left palm flat and high as he shouted, 'Do not interfere!' Then he gazed up at Death with arms spread wide as he said, 'I am ready then! Do it if you must! But spare me this one favour, do your work and make those demons die already!' Calliach nodded, his dark hood lowering in acquiescence; the next moment that crimson scythe slashed to take Kelderath's breath from his lungs.

He was still standing in the form of a blue glare when he watched his own body collapse. There was no blood on his corpse. His soul had simply been ripped from flesh and bone. Suddenly memories came flooding back to him, and Kelderath could recall the last time he had died and met with his darling wife in the High Realm. He rejoiced to hear her voice again, calling his name!

He was floating upwards into a light brighter than the lightning storm, when he gazed down to see tens of thousands of demons reduced to blood and bones, ash and sulfur. Death had kept his word. The tide of the battle had been turned. 'Glorious!' he shouted with vigorous delight, though he knew that only Calliach could hear his words. 'Thank you, oh mighty spirit!' Kelderath called to the shadow as it swept through the demon ranks, crimson blade reaping the harvest. Moments later; that had seemed like an eternity—no longer feeling a part of the world of flesh, his spirit revived by the tenderness of his wife's love, and the glory of the Magic of the All-Father—Kelderath heard harp strings, three vibrant plucks that vibrated in the air like the wail of a thousand ghosts. It was the call of the Harp of Souls! He still had a purpose in this war!

***

Elmira watched as her husband played the strings of the Harp of Odin, the sound emanating to awaken her senses like seeing starlight, the crunch of morning frost under foot, the taste of calcium and an ice-cold river washing over her naked skin; the scent of moss gathering on stone. A great tunnel of lightning and shadows appeared, swirling in an upright vortex as fog billowed out across the earth.

The cry of the Heroes of the Harp of Souls filled the air as over three hundred riders fanned out through the lightning tunnel, beings of light and shadows, emanating Angel-Magic of eternal spirits that could rise beyond the grave. The air was cool, crisp, a moment frozen in time as the thunder of horse hooves sounded at their approach. The riders gathered on the hillside surrounding Orion, Lydia, Tobin and herself. Elarja was also close by, and he received many nods of acknowledgement from these benevolent spirits.

She smiled to see Jothar Kelderath as one of the first ghosts to appear, on a shining white horse, the great captain wore armour of burnished gold with a massive spear of amber fire in his fist, a broadsword golden hilt shining above his shoulder. The old man was smiling too, grinning was the word. He would be glad to be able to strike another blow against the Jinn-Lord and his forces.

It was overwhelming to be in the presence of these beings, to see their faces; being haunted by ancient Heroes. There was a woeful longing in her soul as she gazed upon their ranks, Rodin Cloud-Walker—who was Elarja's father according to legend, and she noticed the looks that passed between those two—in a robe of blue fire; dark hawk beak of a nose and sharp eyes under thick black pointed brows. The first King of the Nordics appeared noble and wise, brandishing a spear of aqua flame that glowed with Magic that spoke of Odin's eminent presence. Egron Blue-Fox rode at his side on a pale stallion, dark blue shining armour with twin sword hilts rising from his shoulders. Today the ghost had hair white as snow, a flowing white beard fanning to his waist that glowed like starlight.

During this time the Alit'aren and Aldebrands still drove the enemy into retreat, the demon horde greatly cowed by the sudden deaths of so many of their kind. Death was performing an act of retribution, and they could spare a moment to bathe in the glory of perceivable victory over the Shadow. Terese and Arig were soon at her side, both glowing with the light of the Heroes of Will, Arig's bow like red lava, Terese's blade drawn; white fire burning within the steel. They both rode phantom horses also, Arig's dark shadows and Terese a pale mare. This suggested that perhaps they were returning to the Harp of Souls, to serve the All-Father once more. Elmira tried not to weep at the loss. Terese had become like a sister.

'It is time to end this war!' Rodin shouted with restrained rage. 'The Shadow must be defeated! Who will ride with us to drive this scourge from the land?' Tens of thousands of mounted warriors cheered in response, the sound of hope and courage in their cries. Aldebrands brought Elmira, Orion, Lydia and Tobin their horses; Elarja also climbed into the saddle.

The Heroes of Will roared in response, a haunting sound that shook the earth and spoke of the eternal struggle of God's men and women locked in combat against the Corruptor. Now was not a time to despair. They had a chance. There was still some hope left in the world, some strength in the Angel-Magic of the Elements, and they had Odin Lightning-Lord on their side, with heroes old and new who were still willing to fight against evil. It was definitely not over yet!

Chapter 21

Elemental Lore

Adem fell through endless depths of shadows and fire ... Jinn-Fendinn fell also, but from higher up, the muscular shadow wreathed in a red haze.

YOU CAN NEVER DEFEAT ME! I HOLD JINN-MAGIC TO DESTROY YOU ALL! GIVE UP, SON OF ODIN! I WILL ALLOW YOU TO SERVE AT MY SIDE, IF YOU GRANT ME THE ANGEL-MAGIC YOU HOLD! THIS WAR CAN THEN BE OVER!

Those last words unfolded a secret within Adem's mind. He heard something in the voice of Fendinn at the last; it was the sound of fear. Wings of Odin flared from his shoulders. He began to soar upwards towards the great shadow form, Blades of Odin spinning in a diamond of six blazing swords that sliced through Fendinn as bolts of blue lightning pulsed around his chest and torso.

'You are a liar!' Adem shouted. 'Every word is a lie! Father of Lies! You revel in the despair you may bring upon us, because you love despair! Lord of Hate! You think it is your blessing to see us suffer, with the death and plunder that you cause in this world, and in every world, Maker of Sorrow!' Blades of Odin flared from his fists, striking Fendinn again and again, the lightning that flared from the Blades increasing in strength, as if Adem's rage fuelled their Elemental Lore. 'When you speak of the war, you are talking about the eternal war, between God's men, and you! You are the Master of Corruption, the Shadow and the Great Evil! You are Lucifer! You are the Devil!'

Fendinn roared in pain and outrage as he ascended through the tunnel of shadow and fire, and Adem believed he heard possible defeat, the sound was of a thousand howling wolves. Then the Jinn-Lord soared higher, much faster. In a crimson flare that was almost blinding to Adem, the Jinn-Lord vanished. But Adem knew he was not defeated; he knew that Fendinn must now be able to rise from the mountain.

The tunnel had returned to a massive funnel rising up around that flaring column of flame. It changed colours as he soared upwards alongside it. Arawn, Llew and Balor were then visible from higher up, swooping down beside him with lightning speed. Adem sent them his orders via the kigare: You must find Isabelle!

He flew randomly throughout the gigantic cavern, searching every crevice in the rock as he shouted; 'Isabelle! My darling, it's Adem! I'm here to rescue you! Where are you?'

***

Carl warped to land beside Wil, his friend was free from conflict for the moment, but when Carl saw his face, he saw a struggle for mastery over the corruption on his mind. 'Drink this!' Carl shouted over the thunder, as he forced the gourd towards Wil's lips. Wil took the potion, holding it as he gave Carl an odd stare as he replied, 'I'm not sure, Carl. Is it safe?'

'Take you meds, Wil, damn it! Drink, man! It is the cure!'

Wil finally conceded to the demand and took a heavy swig, his eyes flaring with realisation as sanity returned to his stricken visage. 'What about Jean?' Wil asked; then he handed the potion back to Carl.

'She has already had a sufficient amount!' Carl shouted. 'It's Adem I'm worried about!' Jean had been more than willing to accept the potion once Carl assured her it was safe. She continued to battle with the female Hex-Keepers, Fearen and Calliestra were currently circling Jean and her Battle Angels trying to form a pincer movement with scorching wave attacks.

Suddenly the entire mountain began to tremble, like an earthquake of immense proportions. Carl looked to the tip of the volcano to see a massive dark claw reaching out to grip the sides where lava still flowed. 'Fendinn is nearly free!' Carl shouted to Wil. 'We must try to hold him back until Adem returns! Do you think we could try to meld with Math Mathonwy and Dis Pater again?'

'The Odin Storm may make it possible,' Wil replied.

'I think it's our only hope!' Carl shouted. They both sent the request out to their Battle Angels. Carl breathed a sigh of relief when Math and Dis Pater appeared beside them, crimson and golden wings flaring at their landing that morphed to become their spear and axe. Carl raised his arms, spreading them out wide with the crimson spear flaring in his fist. Wil did the same, his golden axe flaring like a small sun as Dis Pater stepped forward to meld with his form.

As Math Mathonwy moved to join with Carl's form, Carl was nearly blinded by the flash of silver lightning that surrounded him. He felt that he was somewhere else for that moment, an endless space of white fire. Then he was standing within the chest of the massive figure of blue and white lightning that coursed around his flesh like a shield of fire. He moved his spear, and Math's massive spear moved in unison, only now it was a shaft of burning gold that pulsed with a crimson flare.

Wil also stood within the form of Dis Pater; the two of them joined in mind and spirit had transformed into a similar structure standing fifteen feet tall, formed of golden lightning with a massive jade axe; golden bolts blazing around the weapon.

Carl crouched, as crimson wings flared about the giant that was Math and himself—at the same time Wil's lightning form sprouted wings of golden fire—and they launched into the air to soar above the rising shadow that now had both claws gripping the side of the volcano. Carl shuddered to see the ram skulled face of the Jinn-Lord appear in the centre of those claws, a massive shadow beast with eyes like fangs of flame.

Carl aimed the Spear at Fendinn's skull, a neon beam of white fire encased in a crimson glow struck the dark shadow form. Wil hurled a bar of emerald flame that flared with golden emanation from a swing of his axe. The attacks seemed to enrage Fendinn, as a terrible roar filled the air. To Carl's amazement, their assault also seemed to stun the Jinn-Lord for a moment, as its form fell back into the tunnel, black claws fighting for a grip.

Carl and Wil continued to strike with similar attacks, bolts of liquid-flame—a bar of ice-cold steel—that burnt through the shadow flesh of the Great Enemy. But Carl was certain it would only delay the Return. They needed Adem, desperately, and now! He sent messages to Adem via their Battle Angels, but Math replied that he could not sense his Brothers within the mountain, they could not communicate. Carl could sense Adem's emotions however; he knew his friend must be desperately searching for Isabelle. There was nothing more they could do but stand and fight and hope that he made it out soon.

***

Jean gazed around in wonder as Terese and Arig suddenly appeared on either side of her, and she shook with emotion as she saw the light and shadows that emanated from their bodies and the horses they rode. 'Terese, what has happened to you?' Jean asked as tears streamed down her cheeks. 'Are you a ghost again?'

'Do not cry for me, Jean Fairsythe,' Terese replied in a benevolent tone. 'I have the knowledge and power now to defend your life when it matters most. I would not sacrifice that for anything else I might have achieved as my weakened reincarnation. Yes, the Harp of Souls has summoned us back! Perhaps it was this Odin Storm, or perhaps our purpose is at an end. I believe I have served you well as your protector and advisor, and I have taught you the importance of your role as the Daughter of Thor. We will meet again, Jean Fairsythe, but remember that I serve with greater honour to be bound to the Shield of Fire and the Great Cycle, so do not grieve for the loss of your friend. She is happier now than she can remember, though all of my ancient memories have also returned. This is how it should be, Jean.'

'You were my best friend,' Jean said sniffing.

'And she will miss you, dearly,' the ghost replied, and Jean saw that it was true, but she also saw something else in those large dark eyes, those memories of other women's experiences that made up the Hero of Will that rode that horse with such pride and dignity. 'However, the woman you knew as Terese was but one of many lives that form the heart and soul of Lady Sapphire-Sword. All of those women serve a purpose in the one body that you see before you. Terese is glad to be reunited with us, and we are whole once more. It is as it should be, but she will never forget your friendship.'

Jean rubbed more water from her vision to see the light of at least fifty other Heroes of Will charging around the mountaintop, riders of light and shadows wielding impossible power from their blades and bows; fire and lightning bolts brighter than the sun launching even from their spears and swords. They drove the High-Servants and Hex-Keepers into retreat, though the Jinn-Magic of the enemy was also increased by the rising shadow of the Jinn-Lord.

'What should I do now?' Jean asked Terese.

'Join your Brothers,' Sapphire-Sword replied. 'Tanriel will raise you above the volcano, and you must strike hard against the rising shadow. Use all of your strength, Jean. We will hold back the enemy here, with Bran, Anwen and Angus to assist us. The time is now for you to realise the true Angel-Magic that you have always contained. You must merge with Tanriel, together, with Adem's assistance, you will be able to create the seal; imprisoning Fendinn in accordance with the Prophecy.'

'But how do we do it?' Jean asked.

'It is up to fate to decide, Jean Fairsythe. Always trust in good luck!'

'I taught you that!' Jean exclaimed with a smile; she laughed as tears continued to fall. She had hoped Terese would remain in Kismeria to lead in her stead. This world needed a woman of her wisdom and courage.

'So, you did, Jean Fairsythe. I remember the day.'

***

Adem soared upwards through the tunnel of shadows and fire. He held Isabelle in his arms, he'd found her somehow, with the assistance of his Battle Angels. She was still encased in a Shield-Sphere when he found her lying unconscious on a stone ledge, but she was unguarded. Llew had rescued her via his unique teleport ability, and Adem had lifted her up and flew with all the speed he could muster to reach the skies above.

Isabelle was awake now, and she clutched him tightly with arms around his neck as they both gazed up at the dark shadow form that rose from the volcano above them. Fendinn was nearly free! Adem could clearly make out the back of his enormous torso that flowed down into a great tail of red wreathed shadows.

'It worked in the Chameleon Arch!' Adem shouted as he increased his speed. Isabelle gazed at him questioningly as eight Blades of Odin lanced upwards in an octagon of blue swords! Fifty feet long Blades spinning to strike through Fendinn's back, and Adem flew upwards through that column of fire and shadows to emerge through the Jinn-Lord's heart! He soared higher, his Battle Angels joining him as he stared down in awe and terror at the great shadow that reached for him with a dark claw.

He sent the order to Llew, and suddenly the Battle Angel appeared on wings of violet at his side to lift Isabelle into his arms and fly away and down towards the feet of Kerak'Otozi. Isabelle had tried to hold on to him, but Llew had gripped her tightly and pulled her free as if he were a man handling a child. Adem saw giant lightning Angels; that he realised from his senses were Carl and Wil, joined in mind and soul with Math Mathonwy and Dis Pater.

Arawn was suddenly flying close by; informing Adem that they should also meld in this way, and that Jean was ready to begin also. He spotted Jean joining with Tanriel on the mountainside, and the two formed together in a flare of white light to create a female spirit with wings of red flame and blue armour that pulsed with lightning. They formed a being much smaller than Carl's or Wil's however, and when the Angel soared up beside him, he saw that it was Tanriel in spirit and form, but with Jean's lovely face! She smiled at him warmly as she shouted, 'Let's get this over with!'

A moment later she was hurling down red lightning spears that struck Fendinn to burst into networks of crimson bolts; spreading like cracks through the shadow skin.

Adem and Arawn formed a meld, and Adem felt the transformation after a moment of floating through endless light, and he saw Jean's delight when he became a great dark armoured Shadow Angel, though Jean exclaimed, 'Arawn has your face, Adem! You should see yourself!'

The same transformation took hold of Carl and Wil, the giant figures of Math and Dis Pater, though both had the face, eyes and soul of Carl and Wil!

Adem heard Shienden speaking to his mind, soaring high above the cloud cover as Adem sent his reply: It is time, Dragon-Sword!

The emerald lizard launched down out of the clouds, screaming with fury as he sprayed a long line of orange Dragonfire that scorched the massive dark ram skull. Jinn-Fendinn roared, falling further back within the volcano as Adem shouted the words, 'Shei'heildorth Alfodr!' And he found that he was able to summon the true form of the Spear of Odin!

A bar of white-hot blue flame launched from the massive red sword that Arawn—who was also Adem—aimed at the Fendinn's heart. The Odin Spear struck the chest of black muscle, blue white fire swirling within! An almighty roar of thunder filled the sky! Shienden swooped again to unleash another stream of Dragonfire, as Odin Lightning-Lord appeared in the sky in a form of light and shadows similar in size to the Jinn-Lord.

Odin wore shining blue and red armour worked with gold fire, his beard was a massive fanning mass like starlight and his eyes were piercing blue flame. He wore a huge golden helmet with wings at the temples, and the lightning storm increased in ferocity as the giant figure drew a long golden spear from his shoulders.

Fire-Magic of blue white launched from the tip of the golden spear, also striking Fendinn's heart. The massive shadow form collapsed against the tip of the mountain, the chest and back bending as if it would break if made of bone within flesh. The dark claws clutched the raging volcano for stability, as Adem, Jean, Carl and Wil formed a link that was joined with their melded Battle Angel's forms.

At that time Adem received instruction from Arawn that they should allow Serock to join them in the link. Adem's mind reeled to learn that Serock had even escaped, but this request seemed unfounded until Arawn explained it was Carl Wilder's request, and that it was vital in the chances of absolute success.

Adem allowed Serock to join, and their ability in Angel-Magic increased dramatically, though the sense of Jinn-Magic was also immense, most likely due to the darkness of the spirit of the former Vampire-King. Adem spotted the man in a dark coat riding a pale horse on the mountainside, and suddenly every High-Servant and Dark General appeared to attack at once. They did not strike at Serock however; they hurled lightning and fire at Adem, Jean, Carl and Wil.

The attacks struck Shield-Spheres to little effect, though Adem knew their defences would not hold forever. Then he saw red lightning pulse in Serock's fist, flaring outwards in massive bolts that struck and seemed to cling to each High-Servant and Dark General. The Servants of the Shadow clawed helplessly to escape the lightning that seemed to be some sort of energy trap. Then Adem watched in awe as Serock rode to the tip of the volcano, horse and man leaping to fall into shadows and flame! The lightning still reached up out of the volcano, and Adem watched as the High-Servants and Hex-Keepers were dragged kicking and screaming through the air to become sucked down into its depths!

Now is the time to strike! Arawn sent to Adem. Serock has sacrificed himself so that we may seal all of our most dangerous adversaries in with the Jinn-Lord as well. Arawn also explained that these instructions also came from Carl Wilder, and that Serock had explained part of the plan while Adem was inside Kerak'Otozi. He just might be worthy of redemption then. Adem thought with a grim expression. One thought still troubled him; he had only counted twenty-three, including Serock. Perhaps he had counted wrong amidst the chaos, but he was almost certain there had been one dark cloaked figure missing.

A moment later he noticed transparent human figures all over the mountain, hundreds of them taking the form of golden winged angels with crimson swords and dark armour. He realised they must be possession spirits; Jinn-Fendinn was aiding their powers so that they might serve as Spirit Wardens to save him from this plight.

The Demon Angels began to soar into the skies when that crimson lightning launched out from the tip of the volcano, hundreds of red claws reaching to grasp every last possession spirit and drag them into the inferno.

He struck again, Spear of Odin skewering Fendinn as He fought with rage, trying to recover. Jean, Carl and Wil struck also, lines of golden, crimson and emerald fire mixing with Adem's blue Spear, all striking the Jinn-Lord, as Shienden breathed Dragonfire into the wound! Odin launched another burning spear that flared brighter than the sun! Impossible energy flowed through them; their link was massive beyond extremes! Thunder roared, the earth trembled, pulsing flaring energies combined in lightning and fire. Magic of the All-Father coursed through and around the Jinn-Lord, until He collapsed; claws dragging for support until the combined energies pushed Him back into the volcano.

Next the energies collided in a cataclysmic blast, as the lava suddenly began to erupt with coloured flames, of the stolen Magic of the Great Angels. Eruptions shooting up into the sky and returning to the Elemental Magic of the Ancients! The cataclysmic blast ruptured outwards in a blinding white wave ... Adem was falling through endless light ... there was no day or night, no beginning and no end to the Shadow and the Light ... there was only the Battle of Ages, and those that were willing to fight!

***

Arawn felt Adem slip from his soul in the blast of fire and light, the Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor were gone from this world, perhaps dead, but he doubted that. He believed they would return, in accordance with the prophecies. His Brothers and Sisters felt the raw energy of ancient Elemental Lore returning to the land, skies, rivers and forests; they were stealing back what Jinn-Fendinn had taken. In moments the volcano was a sealed formation, the heroes of prophecy had succeeded; Jinn-Fendinn was imprisoned along with his High-Servants.

They soared back down the mountain, moving with supernatural speed to return to the battlefields where Heroes of Will fought alongside the warriors of Kismeria in a final desperate charge through their shadow ranks. Arawn; and his Battle Angels unleashed chaos upon the demon forces; they brought terror and despair to the hearts of the enemies of peace.

Fire Lions and Shadow Hounds gorged on demon flesh, stripping the enemy down to bare bones as they gulped down massive chunks of sinewy muscle. Arawn launched into a ground assault with his crimson blade, striking down demons with a ferocity and bloodlust that spoke of Jinn-Magic on his mind, yet the renewed Power of the Great Angels provided him with a surge of energies that he unleashed in sheets of flame and lightning that moved out in waves from the swing of his blade. Math Mathonwy and Dis Pater joined his onslaught, also attacking with savage battle lust, the Hellfire Spear and Dis Pater's golden axe sending shockwaves of Angel-Magic through the enemy ranks. Flame Crows joined the feast in the thousands, along with Llew's Spirit Wolves of blue fire and Balor's giant wolf Shadowhunter feasting on flesh and blood.

It was a victory, this time. The land was restored to ancient Angel-Magic, and the Great Angels would be free once more. But Jinn-Fendinn would eventually return, and it would be up to the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor to lead them into the Ragnarök Battle, at the turn of the millennia.

***

Hayley watched the massive explosion in the sky above Kerak'Otozi as she felt her sense of Wil, Jean, Carl and Adem slip from her soul. They were not dead though, she would not believe that for a moment, they would return, and she would greet her husband with open arms, though she dreaded the thought of his absence for such a long time.

Battle Angels appeared to sweep the demon fields with chaos and destruction, lightning and fire, Spirit Wardens and Elemental Magic. Druantia joined in the battle with her kin, their link a monstrosity of Angel-Magic that wreaked devastation upon their enemies.

Druantia's Green Men numbered close to one hundred sentinels via the Angel-Magic of Odin that still launched from the skies. Odin had returned to his Resting Point in the High Realm, though he provided rivers of revitalising energies for his Brothers and Sisters that fought with murderous vengeance. Tanriel and Anwen fought from the skies, on aqua and emerald wings of flame, unleashing Flame Spears and Spirit Wardens in the form of falcons, eagles and hawks of coloured fire that swooped to blast through demon skulls on impact. Their Link also brought coloured bolts of lightning from the skies to mix with Odin's blue pillars of flame, striking demons to vaporize hundreds in a single blast. Angus provided vast Healing-Magic spheres that rejuvenated the spirits of the Heroes of Will and the warriors that fought alongside them within the demon swarms, and ki'mera flowed in endless rivers of light that floated to the Battle Angels, Ghost Heroes, and those that slew the enemy with Angel-Magic.

The demon army was staying dead too, for Calliach had also regained full strength in light of the energies that had escaped from Kerak'Otozi. Balance was restored, their victory assured.

Isabelle was also by her side and under close watch from Ael Tarael who were preparing for Adem's heir to be born. But that would not occur here, they would return her to the Free Lands before that time. For now, she sat and breathed as instructed by the female wielders, as their forces prepared to evacuate via Portal-Magic. The enemy was nearly destroyed; there would be peace in the land, for a time. But evil would sprout anew, it always had, and there were still the vampires and the threat of invaders from across the seas such as the Honds and their kin. Wars would still be waged, and the Alit'aren and Ael Tarael would be needed to lead those battles. What if this Evolo Marzosiel did not survive, and what if his secrets were not shared in time, what hope was there with a corruption upon teron that drove men insane or evil, and a curse upon terael that caused who knows what?

She would need to be tactical; she would need to be clever, but she would also require strong allies. Perhaps the often-intolerable Princess Isabelle and her future child could lend such support and authority for her Martyr Coven. She summoned her vampires to her side, 'It is nearly time to leave.'

'Where are we going, Lady Hayley?' Larg Keledren asked with fist to breastplate.

'For now,' Hayley replied, 'to watch the heir of Highlander be born into the world. Then we shall venture into the Southlands, where we will fight vampires and werewolves and give them the option to serve, and if they refuse, they will die.'

'The Martyr Coven is yours to command,' Larg replied. 'We are at your service, till death.'

Hayley smiled, sadly, 'You honour me, yes; every one of you does me a great honour. Your loyalty will reap rewards of fame and respect amongst the people of the Free Lands.'

'I highly doubt that, my Lady, yet we serve you all the same.'

***

Mijharz watched as the vampire army began to fall back! He roared in triumph, brandishing his sword as the cloud cover was suddenly forced back by a fierce storm wind, perhaps Angel-Magic of Odin, or perhaps his lesser Angels at work. The result was vampire bodies falling from the skies as dark burnt husks as the sunlight touched their flesh, werewolves returning to human form as his warriors trampled them under a stampede of hooves or sliced them open with lances, spears, axes and swords. Once the light had returned his warriors gained courage and fought with ferocity and displayed the old might of the Ruhalden. They wiped out thousands in those moments that the enemy began to retreat, though most had been the burnt vampire corpses crash landing to burst into red dust.

His heart still ached over the loss of the Ruhalden King; Erroll Condallore was a great man, a fine leader, and his good friend. He loathed giving the news to his widow, who would have to accede the crown to their only son to take over the Ruhalden throne. The Prince had more of his mother in him than he did Erroll, especially in his dark eyes and complexion, the old Ruhalden blood flowed deeply in his veins. The people respected him, and he had a good head on his shoulders to accept the responsibility.

When the fields were swept clear of Wolves and Nightwalkers, Mijharz ordered his men to set up a patrol while the rest of his forces returned to Calicos, to give word of the great victory for Kismeria. There would be grand celebrations over the success of the Saviours, and deep mourning at the loss of their King. The Odin Storm still lit up the sky as they sang in deep courageous tones, songs of victory, rejoicing in their salvation. It was beginning to seem likely the lightning strikes would outlast the daylight, possibly lighting up the night sky with infinite blazing swords of blue fire. He sensed in his immortal spirit that the world was recovering from a great and terrible illness. Angel-Magic of the land was returning to leaf, rock and soil, ice and fire, wind and rain.

Before they left a lieutenant had informed him that over three thousand warriors were infected with vampire or werewolf bites. 'Tell them they have two choices, join the enemy in the Southlands, or reach a dark forest in the next three days and await the summons of Hayley Martyr. But let them know this, if they choose to enter the Southlands, they will no longer have any friends left in the Free Lands. They will be butchered on sight!' He did not stay to find out how many chose to aid the side of evil, and how many sought their redemption on the path of righteousness.

***

Koncha roared with fury to see his vampires and werewolves surging back through the passes and into the foothills of the Southlands. He was enraged to know that the Shadow-King had been defeated, that he was condemned to remain a prisoner in these lands, deprived of the rich fountains of blood that flowed through the veins of millions.

He would rebuild his forces and await the Return, if it took a thousand years, or a hundred thousand years! He would wait, and scheme, and prepare for his revenge! 'Fall back!' he shouted in outrage and defeat. 'We will live to fight another day! Return to your covens! Sleep, and feed as you may! But remember, if we turn every living soul in the Southlands, we will starve ourselves of human blood! Better to drink cow, or pig, or goat's blood now than face a future battle without human blood to build our strength and magic! Retreat! You have my approval and my forgiveness!'

He still had the chance of capturing the vampire woman who could walk in daylight. Without her precious Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor to protect her, Hayley Martyr might yet fall into his grasp.

***

Harkrost stood on a ledge overlooking the fires that surged within the heart of Kerak'Otozi. Those fires were different now, having lost the colours of the Great Angel Magic, they were now a flickering column of yellow-orange and crimson.

Harkrost was different also, having been reincarnated by the remaining Jinn-Magic of the High-Jinn, he stood now as a youthful immortal with dark spiked hair and jet-black eyes, the tanned skin of a Dremelden that had fallen in recent battle. Scars covered his chest beneath the shadow cloaked form; lingering signs of the death of the man that had been called Seff.

HARKROST, YOU ARE THE LAST OF YOUR BROTHERS THAT REMAINS FREE. YOU WILL SERVE ME FAITHFULLY AND RECEIVE MANY REWARDS. THE TIME FOR AIDING MY ESCAPE IS NOT YET. YOUR FIRST TASK WILL BE THIS, FIND THE DRUID EVOLO MARZOSIEL, KILL HIM, DESTROY HIS NOTES AND BOOKS, HIS LABORATORIES, AND EVERY LAST DROP OF POTION!

***

Tarz watched with relief as the demon army began to crumble into dust. Tens of thousands suddenly returned to death as Angel-Magic of Calliach was stabilised by the victory over the Shadow. Earth Power was returning to Kismeria. He sensed it in his immortal bones.

They were still on the wall, and Aldebrands pushed back the demon waves with Lightning-Arrows as Portal-Magic was created behind enemy lines for a charge by heavy cavalry numbering over twenty thousand riders. Alit'aren and Aldebrands joined the charge, and soon the enemy was desperately seeking an escape, but they closed in on both sides to crush them into oblivion.

Gwydion even returned with a host of Battle Angels, their Spirit Wardens and Elemental Magic vanquishing most of what remained of the demon masses. Runen sent shockwaves of Angel-Magic through the enemy ranks with his massive hammer strikes, and Neit vaporized demons by the thousands with streams of energy that sliced through flesh and bone with ease as the enemy burst into flaming ashes! Gwydion unleashed waves of Pixie Wardens that soared as a river of light to blast through demon chests and skulls, his attacks returned with flowing demon souls of coloured spiritual fire.

Great triumphant cries sounded from his warriors when the last of the demons were seen fleeing into the horizon, swarming around the charging riders in the hope of survival. They left those that they could not cut down at arm's length; it would take generations for the Jinn-Lord's forces to return to a portion of the scale of this demon army that had been thrown against them in this war.

He grinned as he thought of Adem, Jean, Carl and Wil. Likely now returned to their home world, wondering whether they had succeeded or failed. He would be more than glad to see those four again. His work now was to lead the Alit'aren without inciting conflict with the Ael Tarael. He hoped he could find a way.

***

Epilogue

Isabelle held her baby boy in her arms, wrapped in a red woollen cloak. She was overjoyed to see his shining dark eyes like black marble, filled with an intelligence and might that seemed to be beyond comprehension for a newborn child. She tickled his chin and the child giggled with glee. They were in Nordhel, returned by portal before she gave birth.

'I will name him Pendral,' Isabelle said to Hayley and the Ael Tarael that stood close by her bedside. Hayley held her own child wrapped in a green silk blanket and the two babies made gleeful gurgling sounds when they laid eyes on one another. Pendral was an old Ruhalden name for King.

'I still can't believe your father has left us,' Isabelle whispered to Pendral. 'He was so brave and noble and mighty; I love him dearly. How will we live without him? And he never even got the chance to meet you. Well, the two of you will meet some day. Then we will be together again, your father, mother, grandmother and grand—a tear fell from her face as she recalled the recent news that her father had died in battle—and your uncle. We will all be one big happy family.'

***

Carl fell from the sky to land in a massive lake, or river, it was night, and it took time for his eyes to adjust. When he stood with his friends gathered around him and also soaking wet, they tried to take in their surroundings under the moonlight. His memory of what had occurred at the last was hazy, he remembered the explosion at Kerak'Otozi, then after that he was bathed in a white glow, and that time had seemed very long, the space he floated in seemed endless, like Heaven.

'Did we succeed?' Adem shouted in the shadows, the four of them marching through the knee-deep water to reach dry ground. 'My Angel-Magic is gone!' Adem groaned. 'If there are demons close by, we will be helpless.'

Carl could not sense teron either. This made him realise something, 'I think that we must be ... home.'

'I can't touch terael either,' said Jean. 'Do you think we're really back? Do you think we won?'

'I believe it is so,' Carl replied as they reached the riverbank. As they stood and dripped onto the dirt and grass, Carl noticed that they were all dressed in the clothes they'd been wearing when they first arrived in Kismeria, their Earth clothes! 'Look at our clothes! It is a miracle! We must be back!'

'I've even got my phone!' Wil shouted.

'I doubt it will work again until you use a hair dryer on it,' Jean said with a moonlit grin, the clouds were beginning to move apart to allow a cool blue light to cover their forms.

'So, we're stuck out here,' Carl said with a sigh. Then a moment later, he saw a light up ahead. 'Is that a flashlight?'

'I think so,' said Wil. So, they waited, gathered together and dripping wet, as the flashlight got closer and a male voice shouted, 'Is someone out there?'

'Who goes there?' Adem shouted. Carl resisted a groan; Adem still had not received any Healing-Magic or potion. If they really were home, he would need his medication as soon as possible. A moment later the voice said calmly, 'This is the Police.'

'Of what jurisdiction are you?' Carl asked with caution. Police was not a Kismerian word, but they still were unsure of their predicament.

'Of the Melbourne, Victoria, Police,' the voice replied in a heavy Australian accent. 'I'm searching for Adem Highlander, Jean Fairsythe, Carl Wilder and Wil Martyr. Is that you?' The torchlight was now shining on them, and Carl made out the police uniform on the tall figure before he shouted, 'That's us!'

The officer removed his cap and breathed a sigh of relief as he said, 'Geez, glad we found you! We've been searching for a few days now. Your families reported you missing over five days ago, after this long and a big search of the area, well, you know, we start to fear the worst.'

'We're all OK!' Carl replied.

'If you don't mind me asking,' the officer said, 'where have you four been all this time?' Carl clenched his jaw as Adem spoke before he had a chance, muttering, 'We've journeyed from another dimension.'

'What's that?' asked the officer.

'We fell in the creek!' Carl replied in a thick Australian accent. 'Not too sure on the last five days though, we just got lost, spent the time finding shade and eating bush tucker.'

'Oh,' said the policeman, 'well then, like I said, I'm glad we found you.' He then clicked his radio to say to a fellow officer, 'Mike, I found them. They're all alive and well.' They heard a crackling reply as the officer clicked the button again and said, 'Yeah, I know we already searched this area. I've found them. They fell in the creek! Would you believe it?' Carl said a silent prayer to his Lord God and Jesus Christ. He had prayed to return to his wife and child for a very long time, and already those experiences in Kismeria were slightly fading in his mind, like some dream that was perceived as real at the time.

'Come on, you lot!' the policeman said excitedly. 'Let's get you home to your families.'

***

The celebrations in Kismeria lasted months, great feasts were held in the cities, keeps and holds, music and dancing and revelry for their freedom. Elmira, Orion, Tobin and Lydia were at the feasts at Nordhel for many weeks, and then they travelled the lands to join in other celebrations, with Elarja RinHannen at their side. They even wound time back a little via Elarja to join in on feasts they had missed while celebrating at Nordhel. So, in effect, they were often in two places at the same time.

The land was at peace once more, the earth was returning to a natural cycle of seasons and strength was growing in the elements and the spirits of its people. Hayley Martyr left Nordhel with her Martyr Coven a little before Elmira and the others. The wife of Wil Martyr swore she would return some day with a vampire and werewolf army that would give her a place amongst mankind as a force to be reckoned with. Elmira wished her good fortune, and when they left Nordhel Hayley also delivered Isabelle and Pendral—along with Shienden as Pendral's personal Aldebrand Dragon—to Calicos to be with their kin. It was an ending to their great friendships, but they knew they would all meet again one day; after all, they were a part of the prophecies, their destinies were entwined with the fate of Kismeria.

Jinn-Magic and the curse remained on the two halves of Angel-Magic however, and Elmira was greatly disturbed to learn that Evolo Marzosiel, the Druid who had discovered the cure, had been brutally murdered only days after Fendinn was sealed in Kerak'Otozi. The Alit'aren and Seidr'tera who had been guarding the Druid were also killed, suggesting the assassin was someone of great strength in Jinn-Magic. For now, there was little need to wield, so Healing-Magic performed by Ael Tarael on Alit'aren would suffice, but when another great confrontation threatened the lands, madness and chaos would surely rule. The banishment on male wielding would need to be enforced again; and it would-be all-out war between the Ael Tarael and Alit'aren for the next thousand years. Elmira and Lydia would keep their husbands in check however; they would not lose them to the effects of the corruption on teron.

***

Adem met with Jean in the city at a small café, three days after they returned home. He'd been taking his medication every day and had more than his usual dose to try to return to his normal self sooner. He'd seen his psychiatrist the day before, who asked him many questions about his experience out in the bush, but Adem did his best to sound vague in his explanations, insisting that his memory was not very clear about what had transpired, what they had seen, and done, eaten or where they slept each night. It was all a complete lie, but he knew he couldn't explain what had really happened. That they had spent years in an alternate world via dimensional portals where elves, demons, goblins, werewolves, vampires and mortals all lived together in a warring ecosystem of good against evil. It was something he knew would land him straight back in hospital.

Jean wore a short white skirt and daisy yellow blouse with a low neckline. She looked amazing in the summer sunlight that poured over the balcony where they sat outside on the cobblestones. Her big blue eyes were filled with troubles however, it seemed the loss of her many friends was taking its toll, especially Terese and the poor boy Del.

'Are we going to try dating again?' Adem asked her after a long pause.

'You've been under a lot of strain, Adem,' Jean replied. 'I think we still need a break from one another, Adem needs to get things right with Adem first. I believe that is what is most important, for now at least.'

'I want to move in with you, Jean. I want us to start a family together. Will you consider it?' Jean smiled, sadly; then asked, 'What sort of work do you plan to do now?'

'I don't want to do acting, anymore,' Adem replied. 'I've been thinking I might try writing again. I could write about our adventures, under different names of course. What do you think?'

'It could work,' Jean mused. 'I'm giving up on modelling and acting too.'

'There's something else, Jean, about Anna, our agent.'

'I know all about Anna, Adem. She's one of them.' The way she emphasised 'them' made Adem ask, 'She told you?'

'We had a little chat the morning after we got home. I cornered her, demanded answers. It didn't take long before she confessed it all to me.'

'Will we see her again?'

'I think so, Adem. But I've decided I want to try studying to become a teacher, or a diplomat, someone who can make a difference in the world.'

'You're a warrior woman, Jean. Can you really see yourself teaching children?'

'You said you wished to start a family, Adem. What better way is there to learn how to raise a child than to learn how to educate them, care for them, be their guide and mentor?'

'I suppose you're right. So, you'll consider it? I'll find other work too, Jean, something to pay the bills while I write my stories. We'll be happy together, Jean. I can just picture us, together, as a family.'

'I'll consider it, Adem Highlander. Just keep taking your meds and get started on this book of yours. We'll see about the rest.'

'Oh, yes, Jean! It's going to be great, and we'll have Carl and his wife and Wil over every Friday for a pizza, red wine and cards night.'

'Yes, poor Wil! He must be missing Hayley terribly by now.'

'He'll see her again, and it won't seem nearly as long for him as it will for her. We'll see all our old friends again, Jean. It will be wonderful.'

The End of the Third Book of the Sons of Odin

Book Four of the Sons of Odin

Balor's Might

Angel-Magic Edition

L. A. Hammer

Prologue

A Surprise Visitor

Copyright 2015 L.A. Hammer.

Published by L.A. Hammer at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition Licence Notes

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover artwork, maps and interior illustrations by Minh Nguyen – flare3103

Prologue

A Surprise Visitor

Orion Demon-Slayer sat on a wooden bench, outside the hut where he and his wife had lived for over a century. Some would call it a manor house: but compared with the luxuries his wife Elmira had become accustomed to in her years spent as the Queen of the Torvellen, it was 'a rustic little shack right in the middle of nowhere land'. This was an argument he had heard many times over, whenever she was in a foul mood.

He held a lump of wood in his hands, carving an image out with scrapes of the small knife. He was not certain what it would be yet, though it was starting to look like a man. He decided then it would be a man. He then began to think about working the form into the image of the long-lost Saviour of Kismeria, Adem Highlander.

His days were spent much like this one, sitting in the shade of the large oak tree that stood close by their home. Overlooking a wide river that flowed through the town that was known as Red River. Named for the bloodshed that was said to have made the waters run red during a battle over six hundred years before.

The Battle of Red River was the end of a war between the ruling nations of Kismeria. Nearly broken in spirit by the ravaging Angel-Magic of mad Alit'aren infected by Jinn-Magic, causing ruin across the lands. Unleashing Hellfire and Destruction-Magic on a rampage that threatened all of humanity.

That was long ago, and Orion had not taken part in that battle. Though they had settled here, and the town grew around them. People from distant lands journeyed here seeking peace from the wars that still plagued Kismeria. That had been nearly three hundred years ago, and Orion and his wife had shared a smaller home with Tobin Fire-Heart and Lydia Ever-Light—former rulers of Nordhel and the Nordic bloodline of immortals—but after a time they decided they would build separate houses. Across the road from one another with their front doors facing each other.

Tobin was out in the fields now. Lydia and Elmira were sipping tea on the front porch as the aromas of their shared cooking wafted in the afternoon breeze. Lamb roast with potatoes and carrots, and freshly baked bread and cheese. It was a simple life compared to the one they were used to, though it reminded Orion of his youth. He had grown up living on a farm at a house like this one, with his dearly departed mother and father. He nearly cut himself with the flat knife as he recalled that fateful night his mother and father had been murdered by demons. It was that same night that Orion was set on the path of his destiny to become the future King of the Torvellen. At the dawn of his teenage years, it was also the night he became a man.

A darkness flared in his soul as he recalled taking his first demon souls that night. He was in a murderous rage to avenge his mother. He slew Boli-Kuldr with the sword his father had gifted him, Little Tiger. When his father had also been cut with a Souljhin blade, Orion was given the real Tigerclaw, a golden glowing weapon that was a part of his family lineage. He still carried that sword to this day, as it was enchanted of old magic, and it had lasted over two thousand years since he obtained possession of it.

He had only survived that night due to the protection of an unexpected visitor. A stranger at the time. The presence of that visitor, then and there, was a puzzle he still pondered, every time he thought of the last night that he spent with his mother and father. It told much about the fate of the future. And the past. That surprise visitor had saved his life. A great debt was owed for that. Still, it was part of a riddle he was yet to solve.

Close to a thousand years had passed since the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor had vanished from this world. Highlander leaving the legacy of his son, Pendral, who became known as Pendral Dragon-Sword. That was another tale in Orion's history that brought a black smear rising within his soul. It was something he did not like to talk about. Pendral had risen to become the hope of Kismerian salvation over rising threats within the land during his lifetime. But there was darkness to Pendral's soul, and it grew with age. The Shadow always had its grips on him since before he was born.

Pendral had also fathered a son, Rayne Dragon-Sword. Again, the fate of that child was another sad tale that stirred disturbing memories in all who had known him. Rayne was also a champion in his youth, great in magic and knowledge of the ancient world. His death was shrouded in mystery.

He'd been working the face into the carving, and he suddenly stared in wonder at his creation, seeing the faces of Pendral and Rayne Dragon-Sword; as well as Adem Highlander combined in the image. They were all similar looking, Rayne looking more like his grandfather. Perhaps the thoughts of the three heroes had summoned the image while he worked the carving. Those memories floating through his mind.

Rodriel Tarz still led the rebel legion of Alit'aren, known now as the Forsaken. A name originally given to them by Jean Fairsythe. They wore the name now like a badge of honour. They were different to wielders like Orion and Tobin, who had resisted the lure of _teron_ for the last millennia, only wielding small amounts of Angel-Magic to create Shield-Spells in line with the ancient decree. There had been times when he had broken that oath. At times when he felt it necessary. He shuddered to contemplate the wrath of the White Snow Fox.

Tarz and his Forsaken had refused to follow the decree. Choosing to wield any element of Angel-Magic at free will, to continue to hold back the demon threat in the East Lands. They had built huge walls of stone to bar the paths and passes between the Borderland mountain ranges, where they continued to stand in defence of Kismeria. Wielding _teron_ whenever needed, despite the corruption it forced upon their minds and souls.

They had discovered an antidote of sorts to those effects of Jinn-Magic, a form of crystal known as _elykrario_. The red stones were placed on the dark armour and gauntlets, greaves and pauldrons of the Forsaken. Drawing in the foulness of Jinn-Magic on _teron_ to slow the ongoing effects of madness.

It had worked, to a degree. The Forsaken retained their senses despite the ever-present threat of madness that loomed over their kind, and all male wielders. Yet they were obviously marked by the stresses of feeling that darkness in their souls every time they wielded _teron_. Some even lost their minds completely, despite having Ael Tarael amongst their clans to also slow and reduce the effects via Healing-Spells.

Those that were deemed unsafe for the clans were Shield-Trapped and prevented from ever wielding again, a certain death sentence once the order was enforced. Wielders could not live without Angel-Magic for long, most of them anyway. There was a deep longing in the soul that resulted in suicide or simply dying of what could only be perceived as a kind of broken heart, over the loss of no longer being able to sense the ecstasy of _teron_.

The Forsaken were also deadly swordsmen, perhaps the greatest Agnars in all the lands. Before the arrival of the Sons of Odin, Alit'aren were not always exceptional with the blade. Angel-Magic had served them well enough without other physical forms of attack and defence. The Forsaken saw blindness in this ancient flaw, and they trained their wielders day and night in the ancient sword forms that forged them into deadly vipers of steel.

They reminded Orion of the images conjured in his mind when Highlander would tell him of the ancient Ninja and Samurai of Earth, from the nation known as Japan. The Forsaken wore only black, or dark grey, that naturally drank in the darkness of night and shadows. Most often garbed in the tightly wrapped cloth that was also enchanted to blend with the shadows to a greater degree. In the Japanese style most also wore plated lacquered _do_ , or cuirass, _men-yoroi,_ or _mengu_ face guards, _kabuto_ helmets. Gauntlets of brightly lacquered colours in the warrior style known as the _ghoda'sidhe_. Perhaps the similar names came from days when the Great Angels travelled to both worlds. Orion had been stunned by the similarity of such names in languages other than the Common Tongue.

Tarz had also been told of these Japanese warriors by Highlander long ago, and perhaps Tarz also saw the honour of their code. Tarz was a man of honour, and perhaps he had shaped his warriors in their same image. Combining the honour codes of both worlds to create his potentially unstoppable force. For this reason, and also because of Jinn-Magic, Tarz and his Forsaken were a force to be reckoned with. If they suddenly turned rabid, they could become the greatest threat Kismeria had ever faced. It was for this reason that the Ael Tarael and their armies had given up trying to enforce justice against the Forsaken for going against the decree. Tarz had also been a welcome assistant in ancient battles as well as his enduring opposition to the demons on the Green Border.

Tarz and the Forsaken also practiced the Jinn Arts. Outlawed as soon as they were discovered nearly a thousand years ago by the Daughter of Thor. Yet again, Tarz refused to follow the orders of a woman who had vanished from the lands. He and his followers also practiced many ways of controlling the minds of demons via the corruption on _teron_ and _terael_. This was the main purpose for the _elykrario_ stones. They absorbed dangerous powers that flowed into their souls when they harnessed the Jinn Arts.

Orion looked up to see Elmira and Lydia striding towards him in their blue woollen robes, both carrying large weaved baskets with checked red-and-white cloths falling out over the sides. 'We're going to pick berries to make more jams, husband,' Elmira said as they walked by him and headed towards the forest road. The two women always made jams to trade with the town for whatever was needed, though all they ever asked for was always greeted with a smile and a request to sample more of the lovely blueberry, blackberry or raspberry conserves. It was how Lydia and Elmira did their part to help them make do with what they had, given their circumstances after being renounced of their crowns and kingdoms by the Daughter of Thor.

Orion's and Tobin's wives held no animosity towards Jean Fairsythe for that decree however; they had forgiven that decision long ago. There were times Orion still wished that he was King of Tarvel, though only for the desire to command armies in the battles that had plagued the lands these last thousand years. He no longer cared for gold or the fine luxuries of a Torvellen King.

***

Jean was washing up the plates after their pepperoni pizza. Carl and his wife and Wil were also seated around the table with Adem in their living room getting ready for red wine and cards, the five-year tradition of their Friday nights. They were all talking and laughing with soft techno playing in the background, they were a happy family.

Jean had given birth to a baby girl four years ago, the first year after they returned from Kismeria. They named her Janeanne. And Jean had been Mrs. Jean Highlander since soon after they learnt that she had fallen pregnant. They had a traditional wedding ceremony, in a church with a priest. Adem had insisted on it. They spent their honeymoon in Paris, for a month, visiting the sights, museums and churches.

Their home was not large, three bedrooms with a kitchen and joined family room with three dark leather couches in front of the television and stereo. Adem and Jean slept together in the same bed. Adem was stable most days, as he took his medication and saw his doctors when necessary. He had seemed to be suffering depression the first year after they returned to Earth, but he got better after Janeanne was born. Being a father was good for him, and he was the perfect parent, adoring Janeanne and teaching her to speak and then read and write even before she started kindergarten.

He liked to talk to Janeanne about God and the Bible also, but Jean didn't like it. She always told him she felt their daughter should have the option to investigate religion when and if she decided it was something that interested her. But Adem was stubborn, he said, 'I don't want her running wild when she hits sixteen. Drinking, partying and riding in cars with boys. Religion will be good for her. It'll teach her the importance of being responsible for her own soul. Being an upstanding citizen and respectable person when she grows into adulthood.'

Jean didn't agree with that, but she rarely argued when he was reading Bible passages to Janeanne or telling her of the mystical characters in one of his many fantasy novels he had written about Kismeria. Adem was reasonably successful as an author, making enough money for them to live comfortably while Jean was at home looking after their little girl. Adem worked part time also, but they really didn't need the extra money. They had everything they needed. Her heart was content.

'Jean when you're ready, sweetheart,' Adem was saying over the other voices in the room, 'we've got the cards set up and I've poured you a glass of the bottle you like most.'

'Thank you, darling,' Jean replied looking over her shoulder. 'I've just got to get dessert ready, too.' She'd bought a cheesecake and a lemon meringue pie. They were still in the fridge in their boxes, and she quickly finished drying and got out fresh plates and forks. Suddenly the lights flickered. Jean thought it was odd but went back to what she was doing. Then a thought struck her. Panic was the word. She raced to Janeanne's room and switched on the light.

Terror struck her heart. She was frozen as she looked to see that her daughter was not in bed. The sheets were turned down as if someone had come in and taken her! She searched the house, calling her daughter's name as she checked every place that her daughter liked to hide, but she was nowhere! She tried to remain calm, as a scream tore from her throat. Her first thoughts were for the worst. Adem came rushing to her side, looking in the bedroom and asking, 'Where is she?'

'She's gone!' Jean shouted, agony filling her tones as she fought for self-control. 'Oh Adem, you don't think ... you don't think that He could have taken her?' A darkness clouded Adem's face as he considered just which He she meant. 'We don't know anything yet, Jean. Let's just try to remain calm.'

The others were there now also, all looking grave faced as they began to understand the situation. 'The front and back doors are locked!' Jean shouted. 'It couldn't be a kidnapping, so where did she go?'

'I don't know, my darling. Please come and sit down and we'll try to figure out what to do next.'

'We should report her missing, immediately.' Carl suggested. 'Whatever happened, if we don't report it, the finger might start to point at any one of us.' Jean felt nausea wash over her, she stumbled, collapsed into Adem's embrace. Everything went dark.

***

Orion and Tobin were sitting on the side porch in the evening light when their wives returned from picking berries. Both carried their baskets filled to the brim, but Orion's and Tobin's eyes were fixed squarely on the young girl who walked holding hands with Elmira.

'What is this?' Orion asked.

'This young Lady is named Janeanne,' Elmira replied. 'We found her down by the river within Ochre Wood. Can you believe it, like Carl Wilder's Lord Moses?' At the name 'Carl Wilder' the little girl's eyes lit up; she pulled on Elmira's robe as his wife bowed and Janeanne whispered in her ear.

'Yes,' Elmira agreed, speaking to Janeanne, 'Carl Wilder is your daddy's best friend.' At this remark Orion and Tobin sat forward as if both had been suddenly struck by lightning! Orion said carefully, 'You mean; this is?'

'Whose face does she remind you of most?' Elmira asked with a raised brow. Orion looked again, and in the youthful visage he saw the spitting image of a young Jean Fairsythe! 'Tell my husband what your mother's and father's names are,' Elmira instructed the child.

Janeanne crossed both arms over her chest, wearing what looked to be a pale woollen nightgown with images of blue bunny rabbits hopping all over it. 'My father is Adem Highlander,' Janeanne said with a pout. 'My mommy is Jean, she is Adem's wife, and my mommy.'

Orion thought his jaw would hit the wooden decking when he heard those words. He looked to his wife in astonishment as he asked, 'Are they here?'

'They have not returned, yet,' Elmira replied. 'Janeanne says she was at home asleep in her bed when she woke by the river. She says we are in books her father has written. She is still unsure whether we are all some strange dream she is having.' Elmira grinned at the last, before she said to Orion, 'We always wanted a child. Now we have one for our very own.'

'Wait just one moment,' Orion interjected before Elmira narrowed her gaze; speaking over him with a short tone as she replied, 'Who better for the task, husband? It may be a long time before her parents return. We must raise her. We must be her protectors.'

Orion sat back and took a very long puff of his pipe as he worked the muddle through his mind. Tobin punched Orion on the shoulder as he shouted, 'Congratulations, old friend! You're a father!' Orion sat dumbfounded, until he looked at the little girl again, clutching now to Elmira as she stared up at him with big blue eyes and flowing golden hair. Orion gave a deep sigh; then said to his wife, 'Very well then. We'll do our best to raise her.'

Janeanne pushed the side of her round little face against the folds of the robe at Elmira's thigh as she said sullenly, 'I want my mommy.'

***

Adem was at the psychiatrist the next day. He was in a bad way, taking the loss of his child worse than Jean as the night progressed after they made the police report. His psychiatrist made note of the obvious strain on his face, asking Adem 'what he thought had happened to the girl?' at which point Adem decided it was time to be upfront.

After he gave a summary of his previous experience in Kismeria, fighting alongside elves against demons, vampires and werewolves, Adem noted the obvious strain on the face of his psychiatrist. He began scribbling notes frantically as soon as Adem began the tale, finishing with his theory that Jinn-Fendinn had somehow managed to abduct his daughter.

'You think the devil stole your child, Adem?' His psychiatrist asked openly, his eyes wide as he gazed over his spectacles. 'And the devil, your Jinn-Lord; and these other astounding characters, all reside in an alternate dimension, where time moves faster than it does here?'

'It's the only answer I can think of,' Adem replied. 'The doors were all locked. There seems to be no other reasonable answer.'

'And what do you propose to do about it?'

'I have to get back to Kismeria,' Adem said. 'It's the only way we can save her.'

'You say, "we", Adem, do you mean your wife Jean and your companions Carl and Wil, who you swear also joined you on this great adventure?'

'They won't want to discuss it with you, not even Jean. But it's the truth.'

His psychiatrist moved the spectacles back over his eyes as he wrote down more notes before he said, 'I'm admitting you for treatment. I'm not convinced the medication you're on is the right one for you. Bear in mind, you are not in any trouble, as I do not fear for one moment that you had anything to do with the disappearance of your daughter.

'I have spoken to your wife, and she insists that she had checked on your daughter only a short while before she went missing, and that you had been in the living room with your friends the entire time. So, do not be distressed, I'm just doing what I feel is necessary. For now, we'll try a new medication, at a higher dose than your previous medication. You'll be under close observation, and we'll see if things improve, then I'll consider giving my word to allow your release.

'My concern here and now is that the stress of this situation has brought about a psychotic break that has made your stories of fantasy splice with your own perceptions of reality. I could never in my right mind give any credibility to such fanatical and delusional claims.'

Adem clenched his jaw in frustration. There was nowhere he could run to, and if he did, it would only look ever more suspicious and land him in hotter waters. He nodded in acquiescence, not even bothering to dispute the decision. After his psychiatrist made a few calls Adem was taken away in an ambulance.

'You'll tell Jean, won't you?' Adem called to his psychiatrist as he was strapped to a stretcher, his arms cuffed in padded leather and chains.

'Of course, I will tell her, Adem. I'm sure she will be on her way to meet you at the hospital shortly. Have a safe journey. We'll talk soon.'

***

Jean listened to Adem's psychiatrist over the phone. She was trembling. She fought to control her tone in her replies to his questions about Kismeria. He had even asked Jean outright if there were any truth to his claims, to which she was forced to make up lies to preserve her own reputation. She feared it might be a trap by his psychiatrist to try to discern if she was also becoming susceptible to Adem's delusions.

'He's very ill, doctor. I know this. But I really would like him to be released, immediately. I need him by my side at this very difficult time. He's harmless. I don't have any fear that his delusional state of mind could result in any harm against me or his friends.'

'Nevertheless, I have admitted Adem for observation and treatment. I cannot say how long he will remain under close watch and professional care. I have explained to Adem clearly that I have no belief that he was in any way involved in Janeanne's disappearance. I am simply taking steps I deem necessary given his obviously unbalanced state of mind.'

'I understand, doctor.' Jean groaned inwardly. 'When can I see him?'

'He is waiting for you at the hospital now. You may join him whenever you wish. Immediate family can stay with him until lights out. I would advise you strongly to then return home each night and gain sufficient rest to help you endure with your own concerns and suffering. I am very sorry. I hope your daughter is found very soon. Then perhaps I will review your husband with the consideration of release.'

Jean hung up the phone and breathed a sigh of great tension. Carl, Wil and Rosa were all still there. Rosa having slept in Janeanne's bed, Carl in the spare room and Wil on the couch. 'What did he say?' Rosa asked with concern.

'He's locked up,' Jean said with strain in her voice. 'Possibly forever if Janeanne isn't found.'

'Stay close to him every day, as much as you can,' Carl suggested. 'If it turns out to be what we dread most, and each of us starts to see the signs, well, we'll break him out of there if we have to.'

'Will you all come with me to see him now?' Jean asked.

'Of course, we will, Jean,' Rosa replied, short black hair and glistening wet dark eyes that bulged with emotion. Carl had told his wife everything about their adventures in Kismeria. There were no secrets between them. 'Wil, you go with Jean, and Carl and I will follow in our car.'

'I'll need time to pack Adem some clothes and a toothbrush,' Jean said as she made her way to their room.

'Take all the time you need, Jean. We're in no hurry.'

Chapter 1

A Raging Storm

Adem lay in his ward cell. A fierce thunderclap filled the air! A raging storm was blowing in. He wondered if that meant something. It had been weeks since he was first admitted. The meds keeping him mostly sedated so that he was barely able to stay awake. Even during visits from Jean, Carl and Wil.

He sat upright, throwing his legs out over the bedside to stare at the walls of his prison. At least the walls weren't padded. That would only add to the total humiliation of his predicament. He should have kept quiet. He shouldn't have said what he said. But it was far too late to do anything about that now.

His dreams had been disturbing also, nightmarish visions of Kismeria being torn apart in blood and fire. What kind of world would they be returning to face? Would they even get there? Yes, they had to! He had to save Janeanne.

He was certain she was there, and the time that would have passed during these weeks on Earth would make his daughter at least a young woman in Kismerian years. That was heartbreaking to consider, but the fear that Jinn-Fendinn was responsible for her disappearance, pressed at the centre of his chest like an iron vice.

He scratched his stubble covered chin, deciding he should at least shave today. Jean would be here soon for night visitation. Only allowed for family and close friends for patients like him who were considered an exception to the rules. He recalled Jean's voice on the phone earlier in the day when he was allowed to speak with her. There seemed more than just fear in her tone, and he considered it strange that they had not visited him during the day. Had Jean had a vision?

He shivered at the thought; then stood and moved to the basin to wet his face and then added a lather of shaving cream. He was just pressing the blade to his right cheek when the lights flickered, then went out completely! He braced himself for what would come next. A shadow cloaked figure emerged from the endless darkness, wreathed in crimson flame. The High-Servant wore a mask, but it was different to any he remembered. Gold and silver worked with ebony twin ravens diving on both cheeks towards the triangular nose piece. Golden flames burnt within the eye sockets, assuring him this was one of the Hex-Warlords.

The voice that emanated from the figure was deep and powerful, resonating with a force of evil. He was devastating to behold. It made him feel that his skin and flesh were being peeled off by the dark energies, the rise of Jinn-Magic seeping into Adem's bones like dry ice. 'Highlander, we have been expecting you. The hour of your Arrival draws near. Know that when the time comes for you to face me in battle, you will be utterly annihilated! A choice remains for you, an old decision you have yet to make. You have my word that your life will be spared if you will but join with the Magic of the High-Jinn,' there was a soft allure to the tone at the last, as if this creature felt an overwhelming bliss from the Jinn-Magic.

'I will never join you, Corruptor!' Adem shouted. 'You will be defeated this time, just like the last! Only this time, I will kill you all.' There was a cold hard promise in Adem's tone, but the High-Servant laughed, echoing with waves of evil that brought eruptions of fear into Adem's soul. But it was the reply that shook Adem to the core, 'You speak as if you know me. You have never met me before this day. Though I have known you since long ago. I am much stronger than any of the others you might have faced. I hold Angel-Magic to destroy the Sons of Odin before they fulfil the Prophecies. Unless you submit to the will of the High-Jinn, your defeat is inevitable.'

Adem felt the presence of absolute truth in those words, and they filled him with a new sense of dread. Who was this man? He was surely one of the Hex-Warlords, yet he was one who Adem had never faced before. That was true of a few of the High-Servants, but he had faced nearly all of them on the slopes of Kerak'Otozi.

Whether those words were true or not, while in this realm, Adem knew of a Power that was certain to drive this creature from his sight. 'I call on Power of the Lord Jesus Christ! By his name and with his Divine Power I send you back into the Depths of Hell and Fire!' Adem roared those words with outrage and hatred, when suddenly a cataclysmic blast of white light filled the room, stretching off into infinity. The High-Servant roared in desperation: white flames seeming to penetrate his very soul to vanquish his corrupted might. The light flared with incandescence as another terrible roar filled the air, though this was both the cry of the Hex-Warlord combined with the thunder that seemed to vibrate within the very air all around them. The light contracted in an instant at that sound, becoming the size of a glowing speck of dust floating in the darkness. The light of Adem's cell flickered and returned to full glow. He stared at his face in the mirror to see a streak of blood mixing with the lather on his right cheek.

When he had finished shaving and cleaned his face, he did his best to stop the bleeding while he called for assistance. A dark eyed nurse in her early thirties saw to the wound with antiseptic before patching it up. 'You don't need stitches,' she said, 'but it will leave a handsome scar. You must be more careful, Adem.' There were two large men standing guard inside the room also while she worked, both with arms crossed over their chests. They watched Adem like disgruntled bears. It was not that they didn't trust him exactly. They just thought he was mad beyond comparison to most patients in the locked ward, and that was really saying something!

Later, alone with his thoughts, he waited anxiously for Jean to arrive. He lay back on the white sheets, resting his head and closing his eyes when his door opened with a turn of the lock. He opened his eyes to sit upright as Jean entered the room with Carl and Wil close behind. Jean wore blue denim jeans and a dark leather jacket over a white blouse, Adem was still in his pyjamas. Carl wore jeans and a blue shirt with a collar under a black coat. Wil was wearing brown trousers: a green sweater and a collared shirt. There was nothing unusual about their clothing, but their eyes and their faces spoke of a cunning plan that was also instinctive in their movements before any of them had spoken.

Jean urged him to put on the blue jeans, pale blue shirt and black leather jacket she'd brought in a bag. He quickly got dressed and slipped on the sneakers that came with them. 'What's the plan?' Adem asked his friends, knowing they were up to something.

'Has it started for you, yet?' Carl asked him. Adem looked into his friend's eyes and saw a blue sparkle there like lightning. Jean also had the flicker of light to her pale orbs. Wil's flashed golden as thunder filled the air and lightning flared in the hallway, visible through the glass door to his cell. Seeing that golden light in his friend's eyes, Adem suddenly thought of wolves, and he remembered Wil's apparent gift of speaking with animals via his mind. In these lonely days spent in this cell, Adem had begun to doubt his own senses, his memories and experiences. He had started to doubt that any of it was even real. But the magic that flared in their eyes confirmed something for him. They were the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.

'Have you had visions?' Adem asked in return, to which all of them nodded.

'Each of us has been visited by one of the Hex-Warlords,' Carl replied.

'Me too,' Adem said, choosing not to mention that he was unable to identify the one he had seen only an hour or so before.

'So, it must be nearly the right time!' Jean said with enthusiasm.

'Very likely,' Carl agreed. 'I've even had a few, changes.' At that word, Carl raised his hand. Blue flames flared within his palm. Dancing across his fingertips for a brief moment as Adem stared in puzzlement and awe.

'It has been happening to all of us,' Jean said with controlled glee. 'What about you, Adem?'

'Just the vision,' Adem said, suddenly wondering in panic why he had not also been showing such changes.

'I think I can get us out of here,' Carl said with that gleam to his eyes. 'First, put your gown over your clothes, and wrap yourself in a big white blanket. I'll get the wheelchair.' Already, the plan was beginning to take shape in Adem's mind.

Acting sedated was not difficult. Adem had also been given his usual daily dose by the nurse who saw to his shaving accident, and although the meds had not quite kicked in yet, its effects began to creep up on him as Jean wheeled him through the halls with his friends in tow. Lightning flashed through the high small windows as they proceeded towards the first locked door of the ward.

Jean skirted past that exit however, letting herself and the others be seen by many of the nurses and guards along the way. Telling a few that they were just on their way to the coffee room to sit and chat with Adem while they were allowed to visit. His own cell door had been unlocked when Jean had first arrived, and the guard that opened the door was more than happy for them to take a stroll with Adem in the chair. Adem grinned to himself, so far, they suspected nothing!

While Adem and Jean waited in the coffee lounge with Wil keeping a lookout in the hallway, Carl was busy working at the locked door with his newly developed signs of real magic! Carl had gained incredible knowledge during his time in Kismeria, particularly in all forms of Angel-Magic. Adem knew his friend would work out how to unlock that door. Even with the limited amounts of _teron_ that he might be able wield while here on Earth.

The door he was working on was not guarded, it was a back exit to further sections of supply rooms for nurses and janitors. Carl had apparently been looking at blueprints of the building in the weeks leading up to this attempt. Apparently without suspicion being aroused, however he had managed it. Finally, Wil returned to inform them it was time, and Adem left the wheelchair behind. Their little scheme would be undone the moment they crossed through that door.

Once they were through to the next hallway, and Carl was just closing the door gently behind him, the alarms went off! Adem wasn't sure if they had seen them on security vision, or whether the doors themselves were alarmed, but suddenly the four of them were rushing through the hallways towards the previously designated exit. Shouts of pursuit began in the hallways behind them as they fled. They were crossing a hallway when two largely built guards came rushing towards them! Wil moved like an arrow to hip and shoulder the first one, sending both guards flying backwards as if Wil had the strength of a bear! He even grunted like a wild animal as he forced the two men to the ground where they lay unconscious.

So far none of the other doors were locked leading towards their escape, until they neared the exit, and two doors stood between them and the alleyway, joined by a single long hallway.

Carl was able to get through the first one without much trouble. When they were all on the other side, Carl used a little trick to jam the door, so it could not be opened easily, even with a key. That was fortunate because three burly guards were soon bashing at the glass window of the door and shouting at them to, 'Stop!' and 'Give up!'

The second door took a little more time, but they were able to escape before any more guards had reached the back of the building. They were racing through the alleyway when a police car screeched into view with the lights flashing! Two officers jumped out of the car and pointed their pistols as one shouted over the thunder 'Police! Freeze!'

A bolt of pure white lightning reached down from the heavens in that moment. Striking like a massive trident all around the place where Adem, Jean, Carl and Wil were standing. Light filled Adem's vision. It was suddenly everywhere, and the darkness of the night vanished in the incandescent glow that seemed to stretch off into forever. There was something very familiar about the light. It reminded him of something that had happened to him, long ago, but his thoughts were suddenly hazy. He could not quite remember where it had happened, or even who he was, at this point in time ... He thought he was falling, no flying ... He was soaring through endless light towards another world ... A place where the rules were different. A land where people still remembered honour and justice ... A world of terrible evils. Unspeakable nightmares that walked in the flesh ... He saw then that his friends were by his side also, soaring, or falling through the light, and Jean was there also ... They were going to cross over ... They were entering the Land of Odin!

***

Adem collapsed face down on dry cracked earth. He emptied the contents of his stomach in heaves. His mind still reeling from the transportation method: those last moments had felt like he was a rocket ship hurtling through space at the speed of light! He made his way up on to his knees to wipe his face and get a look around. His companions were also showing signs of travel sickness. It was very different to the first time they had entered this world. The last time it was easy, they were gently eased from one place to another. This time it was a very rough ride!

The storm raged here too. Black clouds billowed overhead as forked silver bolts struck the dark soil, that was marked in places by pools of liquid magma. This had to be the East Lands! That was troubling, but hopefully they would be able to fend for themselves ... He reached for _teron_ , but his mind and soul reached out to clutch at nothing. Something slipped from his grasp as he desperately tried to hold on. 'I can't reach Angel-Magic!' he cried, trying again and finding it was useless.

'Nor can I,' Jean replied, struggling to her feet. The sight was enough to give Adem the strength to stand also.

'It seems beyond my reach!' Adem shouted.

'I know what you mean,' Carl agreed. 'What about you, Wil?'

'I sense it,' Wil shouted over the thunder, 'but it slips from my grasp every time!'

'Then we are in serious trouble,' Jean said. They looked further eastwards, to see the flames surging from the tip of the massive dark peak of Kerak'Otozi. They were only a few miles from Jinn-Fendinn's prison. Orange fires that flowed into the clouds from the tip of the volcano assured them that the Jinn-Lord was close to breaking free again. With the escape of the High-Servants and Hex-Keepers, it would only be a matter of time before the Battle of Ragnarök. A few months or years at most.

They were all on their feet now, gazing at their surroundings with stark horror written on their faces. Adem gritted his teeth with determination. 'We cannot create Portal-Spells without Angel-Magic,' he said, 'and without Angel-Magic we have no hope of summoning _altherin_ horses.'

'So, what do you propose?' Jean asked. Adem thought for a moment, then it struck him. He began to laugh.

'I hope we can all share in the joke, Adem?' Jean asked, with obvious concern. 'Tell me you have something.'

Adem shook his fist at the massive dark peak, shouting with passion, 'You have not won yet!' Then he looked at his companions as he said, 'We still have two options at our disposal. Already I can sense the presence of Shienden, his mind trying to connect with my own. He is far from here, but perhaps, yes, I will summon him. To seek us out and carry us from this place!'

'That is good, Adem,' Jean replied with cool control. 'What is the other option at our disposal?'

—A horrid scream filled the air, followed by thousands more just like it! They turned to look south of their position, to a rise in the landscape to see hundreds of Rahkwel goblins pouring down from the tops of the low hills. Then there were thousands of the seven feet tall creatures, wielding all manner of weaponry. Garbed in green and brown cloaks and leathers, their oval amber eyes glowing like lanterns in the darkness.

Adem grinned, gesturing towards the demon swarm with his right fist before their front ranks had a chance to unshoulder their bows. Crimson flames erupted within the Rahkwel ranks, spouting fifteen feet high as they raced across the ground like a raging red dragon. Flesh was incinerated and bones collapsed in clouds of black ash!

He saw the stunned expressions from his companions before he gestured again. Four Golden Soldiers rose up out of the ground, robots made of pure gold. Aiming laser cannon arms at the goblins, beams of crimson light cut through chests and torsos with ease and precision. Congealed chunks of flesh and metal falling in the wake of destruction! It had taken him a little while to remember, after the disorienting experience of the journey. But Adem had soon recalled his _other_ ability. That which did not require _teron_ that he called matter manipulation. He still had the means to defend himself and those he loved.

—Horns sounded from the west! Adem looked to see thousands more Rahkwel marching towards them, Fendinn was weaving his traps already. A Souljhin rode amongst the advancing army. Adem wanted to tear that one down immediately, when he shouted in frustration, 'If only I could summon Arawn!' A bolt of red flame touched down from the clouds, taking the form of a man only head and shoulders taller than Adem. Garbed in a dark hooded cloak with the familiar rune covered gauntlets and mask of silvered steel. Adem shouted in wonder, 'Arawn?' The Battle Angel was so diminished in size from Adem's memory that he was shocked and speechless. Arawn drew a sword that glowed wicked crimson, standing in a defensive position between Adem and Jean. He spoke in a deep tone as he shouted to Adem, 'Summon the others, quickly! We will aid you as best we can!'

Jean seemed to understand, and she quickly cried the name, 'Tanriel!' as Carl and Wil shouted, 'Math Mathonwy!' and 'Eledisren!' Something had changed, Adem knew it the moment the others arrived. Not only were all of the male Battle Angels now shorter and smaller in size, but they were also more ... Human! It seemed they were becoming _mortal!_

Math and Dis Pater appeared beside Carl and Wil as twin bolts of lightning fell from the skies. Both Battle Angels looked very much like they had before, only they were much smaller, both only slightly taller than Carl or Wil. Their clothes and weapons no longer appeared so ... Enchanted. Dis Pater wielded his double-edged golden axe, and Math his Hellfire spear, but the old light that had once glowed there was nearly faded completely. It was the same with their bodies. They no longer radiated light and magic, they appeared ... Solid, of flesh and bone! Tanriel was the same, and her wings were gone! The sight was utterly perplexing to Adem's mind.

'What has happened to you all?' Jean asked in astonishment. The Rahkwel were raging with bloodlust now, though the presence of the Battle Angels seemed to fill them with caution.

'The Magic of the Jinn-Lord grows,' Tanriel replied. 'Our Ancient Lore begins to wither and fade. We cannot aid you as we once did, but we still have some might to display when Odin permits us. You can summon any one of us whenever you are in need. We will come if we are able, or, if not us, then another will be sent in our stead,' there was a kind of sweetness to her tone, but there was also fierce courage. Her burning blue orbs showed the last of the magic that blazed in her soul.

Tanriel raised a red gauntlet. A crimson spear appeared in her grasp. She aimed to throw; red flames glowed within the crystal weapon. 'We are free from our Resting Points,' Tanriel continued. 'Angel-Magic is no longer needed for you to summon us to battle.' Tanriel leapt twice her body height into the air. Blue burning wings appeared briefly on her shoulders, carrying her a little higher. The spear flew from her fist at the highest point, striking the demon ranks like a missile to explode in a small rupture of red lightning. Bolts that brought confusion and chaos amongst the Rahkwel ranks. Yet it caused only the slightest destruction, wounding no more than two dozen! It seemed incomprehensible. How far had the Battle Angels fallen from their former might?

He watched in horror as the answer came swiftly, Rahkwel charging towards them were knocked down systematically by blasts of golden and crimson fire that flew from Math's spear and Dis Pater's axe swings. The attacks were short precise expressions of Angel-Magic: cutting down individual demons with utter annihilation. The sheets and cords of magic were bright and obliterating. But the Old Might of Battle Angels would have taken out a hundred or more with similar amount of effort! Math and Dis Pater attacked the Rahkwel descending from the south. Arawn sent bars of illuminated crimson launching from his sword as he harried the demons advancing from the west. The blasts of fire tore through four Rahkwel at a time at the most! It was pitiful! Adem groaned inwardly to see that his greatest allies were reduced now in their capacities to something similar to moderately gifted Seidr wielders!

'Where are your Spirit Wardens?' Adem cried in desperation, to which Arawn shouted a deep booming reply of, 'We have not yet obtained enough _ki'mera_. In that ability we are also now greatly diminished. In our world, an Age has passed during your absence. It has been over one thousand years since last we met! Much has changed. You will need to learn to adapt to those changes.' Adem watched the _ki'mera_ souls flow towards the Battle Angels from the slain goblins, small ripples of floating light in incandescent colours. How much did they require?

'Why can't we sense Angel-Magic?' Adem asked Arawn.

'That is something we cannot explain!' Arawn replied. 'It is something quite new. Only three years have passed since the wielders of this world lost the ability to sense _teron_ and _terael_.'

'Lost?' Adem asked in terror. 'All of them?' He lashed out with Golden Soldier laser beams, cutting Rahkwel into slices of congealed flesh and bone! He took down hundreds in seconds, but thousands were surging towards them now from both directions. Tanriel hurled another three crimson spears during this time. Each impacting in a blast of lightning that barely managed to take down a handful of enemies each time. As _ki'mera_ flowed towards the four Battle Angels, Adem's old connection to Arawn sparked a sense of their Elemental Magic becoming enhanced. He suddenly felt them form a Link!

Thunder roared as four bolts of lightning fell to strike the Battle Angels where they stood. It was nothing compared to the storm of an old Link. But suddenly Tanriel had wings of flame once more; soaring over thirty feet straight up! She hurled a single crimson Flame Spear that split to become four spears; striking the ground blade down. Waves of golden-orange flames blasted sideways to strip demon flesh from bone! That was more like it! That attack had taken out fifty or more enemies with each spear. It was a heartening thing to witness. Energy beams launched from the weapons of the male Battle Angels increased in size and strength. Blasting thirty or more goblins with each strike of golden or crimson fire.

Four massive king male lions with thick dark manes charged from Arawn's form. Six Shadow Hounds of dark sleek fur standing as tall as a pony charged southwards up the hillside; tearing Rahkwel flesh into bleeding shreds. Adem did not know whether to laugh or cry. It was terrifying to see this pitiful excuse for a Link! His Golden Soldiers cut down hundreds more of the enemy as they began to halt in terror of his destructive capacities. He knew it was him they feared, as these Battle Angels were sadly little more than an annoyance to their evil intent.

Two problems he now faced were that his medication was creeping up on him. He feared he might soon fall unconscious, despite the stimulating nature of the situation, or at least collapse. The other concern was that he might require rest before these new stores of _ki'mera_ could be of use against more demons; if this battle continued much longer.

—The thunder of hooves filled the air! Adem looked to the northwest to see over three hundred riders advancing with great speed. Much faster than the charging Rahkwel also approaching from the west, though, they were not moving fast enough for any of those horses to be _altherin_. That realisation also filled him with dread. He wondered why there would be no _altherin_ amongst Borderland riders. Though he also knew these were not Shadow Riders. They wore a variation of the _ghoda'sidhe_. Black armoured and dark cloth garbed warriors formed a perimeter around Adem and his companions. Each rider stepping down to move their horse to the centre of the circle where the war trained beasts calmly waited. Undisturbed by the storm or the cries of bloodthirsty demons.

It took a moment for Adem to recognise their dark coats, and the three enamelled pins on their high collars, the Wolf, Lion and Dragon Rohjor sigils. These men were Alit'aren! They drew long swords very reminiscent of an ancient samurai _katana_ blade. Black wrapped hilts in criss-cross style with dark helmets shaped like bullets: dark dragon wings rising above the ear guards. A solid dark steel _mengu_ style faceguard also covered the lower half of their faces. Adem noticed the different colours of the masks, _kote_ gauntlets and sometimes their _do_ style cuirass. Similar to old styles of the _ghoda'sidhe_ but also looking much like ancient Japanese warriors. He also noticed the small red crystal stones that studded their gauntlets and greaves. Sometimes they also covered parts of their cuirass like jewelled ornaments. Adem wondered at this, when one of the men removed his faceguard and helmet. A Torvellen Immortal, his large dark eyes probing Adem's visage before he shouted, 'Adem Highlander?'

'Yes!' Adem replied. The man glanced at his companions before he said, 'You must leave the rest of the battle in our hands. It is a matter of honour for the men to be your protectors and to ensure your rescue.'

'Who do you serve?' Adem asked the man, to which the reply came, 'We serve Lord Rodriel Tarz, High Captain-General of the Forsaken Alit'aren.' Lightning flared behind the man as a terrible clap of thunder filled the air.

Adem was grateful for their arrival. Screams of hundreds of Nymloc suddenly sounded from the northern rise. Adem looked there to see demons black as tar charging towards them with unnatural speed. Their eyes flaring like burning coal. There were Boli-Kuldr amongst them. Adem looked northwards. He saw those demons behave in a way he did not expect. They suddenly changed direction. Charging now southeast, around Adem and his companions and towards the hillsides. Where the bulk of the Rahkwel forces were still gathering.

The Boli-Kuldr and Nymloc were less in number than the goblin ranks, but Adem heard fear in the snarls of the green skinned Rahkwel and he saw terror in their lamplight eyes. Demons closed with their ranks and began to bite, claw and hack through the goblins with a ferocity that spoke of demon mind control. Adem realised some moments before that these Alit'aren were wielding the Jinn Arts.

He looked to Jean to see her scowl of disapproval. Adem raised a cautionary hand. Then his eyebrows, as he gestured around him, to help her better consider the desperate nature of their predicament. Adem wondered how it was still possible to wield the Jinn Arts when these men had not been able to touch _teron_ for years. But he put these thoughts aside as he heard Shienden speaking to his mind. His words now clear for the first time since Adem's return to Kismeria.

Welcome, Father. I have long awaited your return!

Adem looked to the skies where he sensed the dragon. A great dark-emerald lizard shape with blue batwings spanning over forty paces swooped down towards the battlefield. Incandescent blue Dragon-Flame launched from Shienden's massive jaws: vaporizing Rahkwel still advancing from the west. Corrosive sheets of blue blazing heat struck the fields of demons to obliterate their ranks in pillars of smoking ash. Shienden's attack took down the bulk of that horde, blood and bone reduced to burning char in seconds.

A small horde of the Rahkwel had closed ranks with the protective circle of Alit'aren. Adem soon saw that these men were perhaps more skilled in their wielding of swords than even the ancient Agnars. They moved with supernatural speed, both the immortal warriors and those that Adem guessed were mortal. Until he noted their speed and skill, realising then that many of these men must be half-bloods. Meaning that immortals and mortals had begun to mix the bloodlines once more.

This thought was distracted when Tanriel suddenly shouted to Jean, 'We must return to the High and Low Realm. Our aid here is all but extinguished. Forgive me, Jean Fairsythe! Much has changed during your absence.' Arawn, Dis Pater and Math Mathonwy returned to the earth in bores of molten fire. Tanriel moved into the clouds on a beam of blue flames. Their exit taking only moments before Adem shouted, 'What the hell is going on around here?' His chest burned with panic. _No Power! The Battle Angels are ... useless!_ He looked to the dark mountain once more as he roared with outrage: 'What have you done? Curse you, Lord of Despair!'

The Alit'aren still fought off the advancing Rahkwel with quicksilver speed and swordsmanship that defied all rational belief. Swords hacking vast wounds through goblin torsos. Blood and limbs flying in their wake to pile at their feet like trophies. They moved so fast at times that Adem was unable to even guess what sword form they were using. He saw many already that he had never been taught. It was confirmation to Adem also of just how much everything must have changed. In the old days, Alit'aren were rarely Agnars. They had never needed to be with lightning in their veins. It was also proof to Adem that some hope remained in the blood of Kismerian warriors. They had learnt to adapt; replacing fire with steel, muscle and sweat. Perhaps they had even become a harder people.

He would have to find out.

Some of those blades were enchanted also, but many were not. Another confirmation that Angel-Magic was lost to them. Alit'aren would always carry a sword infused with Fire-Magic over ordinary forged steel. It meant some of these men had been raised to Alit'aren in the last three years, and the swords that were made for them were simply forged steel. Making it much harder to kill a real demon, though they had no trouble against Rahkwel. Bodies collapsed as dark blood sprayed in unison with swipes of gleaming blades.

Shienden swooped again to purge the demon threat that remained to the south. Blue flames covering the earth in blankets of light that incinerated flesh and bone, including those under mind control. The Torvellen leader pressed a fist to breastplate as he said to Adem, 'I advise you to ride with us, Adem Highlander. We shall escort you to the Borderlands to speak with Lord Tarz. He will be more than glad to know that you have returned.'

'How did you know me on sight?' Adem asked.

'My father described your faces to me many times before he died. My name is Kien Modrellock. My father was Torin, a good friend of yours.' The man then leant towards Adem to whisper in his ear, 'My father was also your spy, if his stories are to be believed.' Adem's chest ached to think of another friend lost. If it turned out Torin was murdered for being discovered, Adem would have retribution. He knew with those words that Kien was who he claimed to be. Recognising the Ruhalden blood and his father's eyes, despite the fact that at first, he had appeared pure Torvellen. He gave the man his trust as he signalled to his companions. Jean rode in the saddle in front of Adem on a tall dark stallion. Carl and Wil were given mounts of their own. Other riders doubled up after providing their mounts for the Sons and Daughter. As they rode westward Adem's mind was fraught with outrage and disorder! He wanted to tear his own hair out! Or someone else's hair. Preferably someone he hated!

'What has happened to this world?' Jean whispered to herself. Twin silver lightning bolts struck the earth in the distance, carving out a face of shadows. It reminded Adem that Fendinn must be watching.

_He can see through my eyes, after all. He can see through all of our eyes._ He began to wonder then, if this time, their efforts truly were without hope.

Chapter 2

Forsaken Warriors

Adem moved his horse up beside Kien on the second morning of their journey. These horses would take over a week to get them as far as the mountain ranges of the Green Border. Before they reached safer lands, they were allowing the animals to move at a slow trot for the first hour. None of them were _altherin_. They required more rest than immortal mounts. Adem nearly fell out of the saddle in shock when he asked the man why none of the horses were _altherin_. The reply struck his chest again like a fist of ice crushing with corruptive fusion.

'The _altherin_ are nearly extinct,' Kien replied plainly in his deep gruff tone. Adem gasped. Jean also made sounds of morose concern.

'How did this happen?' Adem asked, his voice sounding like iron scraping over stone as he struggled with the words that shook him to his core.

'It was the Alit'aren mostly,' Kien replied. 'I only know this from stories my father told me about the Great Wars of the Age of Chaos. Madmen Alit'aren seemed to perceive the majesty of Immortal Horses as a sign of the Jinn-Lord. It was always that way with the madness. Alit'aren were suspicious of anyone that was good, or wholesome. But if they were honourable, or righteous, or, if like the immortal breed of horses, they were magnificent and touched with the ancient Magic of the Nordics, well, then the Alit'aren madmen downright despised them. The madmen hunted down the horses, not only those that were tame, but also the wild ones that roamed the Free Lands. They even sought them out here, in the East Lands, where the Immortal Horses frolicked in their once great herds. Mocking the demons and monsters of this cursed place.

'That was the main reason, I am told. But Jinn-Fendinn also brought many battles to the Free Lands. Horses both mortal and immortal died in the hundreds of thousands, as did the warriors of the lands, in their endless suffering as they fought to oppose the Shadow. It is a tale of great woe, and the loss of the _altherin_ weighs heavily on the hearts of the immortal people. Especially those that lived in the Age when _altherin_ still flourished. I am also greatly saddened to relate to you this tale. The memory of the last of the _altherin_ herds is burnt into my heart and soul from when I was still a youngling. When I gazed upon the majesty of their kind that still roamed the Green Border. Running wild and free. My mood is greatly disturbed in the telling of such events. Forgive me if I ride alone for a time.'

Adem wanted to vomit buckets of blood! His stomach heaved with revulsion over the story of the loss of those great and immortal creatures. The _altherin_ had been magnificent. They were bold and swift and magical. Easily discernible from their mortal cousins by the form and deeply cut precision of their muscle: the way they pranced and neighed before you saw how fast they could move.

Adem felt that Fendinn was crushing his very soul with the despair he was forced to endure. But the situation was much worse than just this. There was no Angel-Magic left in the world, and he still had no answer as to how or why this had become a reality. Before Kien was too far ahead, Adem called to him, 'Are there none left at all?' Kien turned his head to one side to answer softly, though his tone was still that of a growling wolf. 'There are some, but they are very few. Mixing the bloodlines with mortal stock yields some hope, but it seems the spirit of the _altherin_ line has been forced into a decline. So severe that most seem unwilling to even attempt to rebuild their number. Even the great line of _altherin_ is without hope for the future.' The immortal faced forwards again and rode off into the distance where he was separate from the main force of riders.

Adem listened to Jean's moans of despair as he whispered soothing words in her ear: clinging tightly to her waist with his arms as he continued to grip the reins in front. Finally, Jean replied, 'I'm more worried about our daughter, Adem. There is nothing we can do about the _altherin_. My concern is that Janeanne has been in this land for nearly twenty years. What kind of person will we face when we meet her as a grown woman? Kien tells us that she is safe with our friends, but I need to get to her. I need to see her face. But I dread to look into her eyes and see her pain and suffering, the agony she has experienced while growing up in this land of beauty and terror.'

'Orion and Tobin will protect her.' Adem's tone was sympathetic to her concerns. 'They would have cared for her like she was their own. Lydia and Elmira would've raised her to be a strong and wise young woman. We'll see her soon, my darling. Try not to stress out.' Kien had explained all of this to them on the first night. Not many people knew that the woman Janeanne was actually the daughter of Adem and Jean. Kien had been told the secret by his father, Torin, as his work as a spy continued during Adem's absence. Torin had become a close confidant of Tarz before his death. Adem had considered using Shienden to fly them directly to their daughter, but he also wished to speak with Rodriel Tarz. There were still many questions to which he desperately needed answers.

Later they moved into a gallop. Kien and his scouts became aware of more Rahkwel on their trail. Their keen eyesight could detect the goblin hordes through the grey shrouded mist of these lands. At such great distances that Adem and his friends could not even discern black dots on the horizon to mark out where they spotted enemies in pursuit. The Rahkwel were riding beasts similar to large wild boar according to Kien. A breed of Demonsouled that had been raised early on in the Age of Chaos.

There were many new forms of demon that had spawned via the growing Magic of the Jinn-Lord. Flying demons called Grenloc. Serpentine creatures that bored through the earth in these lands to rise up and devour their prey. Vypain, that were apparently some kind of ape like demon capable of wielding fire to hurl at their prey. As well as the return of other demons from ancient times. Apparently caused by the Rift created by Elarja RinHannen's Time Stones and Jinn-Magic.

Kien instructed them on all of these details on the first night when they made camp. It was all important information to Adem. He had to know about everything that had changed, and what still remained the same that he could use to his advantage.

They rode at a fast pace for the next hour. By then Adem could easily discern the dark shapes on the horizon that marked where the horde of goblins were in pursuit. Kien changed course a number of times to outmanoeuvre their attempts to close in around them. But even Adem soon understood they were simply herding them in one direction. When Kien first became certain of this, he tried to change course again. But they were penned in from three sides by Rahkwel charging from the north and east sides, with a horde of Nymloc and Boli-Kuldr closing in from the south. Kien also informed Adem that he spied a Grenloc circling their riders from the dark clouds above. Adem could not see the creature in the silver and crimson laced black billows, but Kien assured him the creature was reporting their movements to the demons in pursuit.

'Where are they forcing us to go?' Adem shouted to Kien as the land began to change slightly. He noticed many stunted dark and leafless trees rising crooked from the parched soil. He also saw many stone ruins layered across the landscape. Some in the forms of statues of ancient monarchy, as well as the figures of polytheistic faith, the Gods of the Old Ways. A very large stone face, half sunken in the earth was surely the image of Odin. Adem shuddered to think what form the Lightning-Lord might now take, and what diminished Angel-Magic he might display. The skies flared with lightning and rumbled with thunder as if in response to his very thought.

'They are pushing us straight into the path of the Goblin City!' Kien shouted in reply. They rode as fast as mortal horses could carry them. 'I will explain later, but the important thing you must know, we cannot change course. We will face tens of thousands of the creatures once we reach the borders of these main ruins. I would ask that you summon your great dragon to our aid once more. I would also request your assistance, Blue Water Dragon. Honour will be put aside in this desperate hour.' Adem noted the look of shame that was open upon Kien's face to admit that he and his men were not sufficient to protect the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. Alit'aren had always been men of honour, but these men seemed to bear internal scars when that honour was not upheld.

Adem summoned Shienden, the great dragon spoke to his mind that he was not far away. He had also tracked them from the skies. Adem then called to Kien, 'Why not slow the horses to give them rest? We know they are herding us towards their city. Why not slow our progression to better plan our strategy?'

'I fear they may harry us with goblin arrows if they get within range!' Kien barked in reply. 'I would not risk my men, or you, Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor, to arrow heads dipped in poison! You might not yet understand, Adem Highlander. The Jinn Arts provide more ability than simply demon mind control. We shall demonstrate when the time is right!'

—Goblins cried out to the west, thousands of howling bloodthirsty creatures that spoke of an evil rage that defied all rational belief. It seemed the enemy had become more corrupt during the Age of Chaos; if that were even possible. The horses slowed a degree when Rahkwel appeared through the thick fog, forming wedges west, northwest and southwest. Rows of tall green skinned muscular forms garbed in brown and grey leathers, raising spears, axes or bows.

The ground suddenly trembled, fire ripped upwards through the earth ahead of Adem and the other riders. Flames spouting like crimson venom raced towards the enemy to blast the front lines with blistering heat! Bodies collapsed like sacks of charred molasses! Adem was stunned at what he saw. He knew it was the work of the Alit'aren, but he could not sense Angel-Magic in any of them. He could see the spells though, and as he watched, he realised they were using the Jinn Arts. He sensed it then within himself—as seven of his Golden Soldiers rose in an arc facing the western ranks to unleash bars of crimson light that severed flesh and bone like blades of fire. He realised then that the Jinn-Lord's Fire-Magic was still a part of him, as it was with the Alit'aren. Just as the Lord of Shadows became one with the flames when he first tried to oppose the All-Father.

That Eternal Hellfire now burnt within the souls of men and women touched by Jinn-Magic and the curse on Angel-Magic. As a result, Fire-Magic could still be wielded via Jinn-Magic. It was not Angel-Magic of _teron_ or _terael_ , but it was _a_ Magic all the same! He realised then that it must be Jinn-Magic, used also by the Hex-Warlords and their Hex-Keepers! He feared to reach out and touch the source of such incredibly destructive force, yet he had no other choice.

The feeling was like being dipped in acid swimming in bile of the vilest nature. A reeking pungent odour filled his very soul. Ice binding his heart that burnt like the poison of a deathly curse. The Jinn Arts were terrifying agony to sense within your soul.

A wall of crimson blossomed within the ranks that tried to close in from the northwest. Rahkwel bodies were burnt to dark husks at the same moment they were torn apart: thrown through the air by the force of his first strike! The demons approaching from the southwest faltered a moment. Alit'aren used the momentum to strike with bolts of crimson lightning and spheres of flames the size of boulders. They flung with their right fists while clinging to the reins with their left. The crimson balls of energy flared like dark and evil acid that launched from their throws but beyond the nose of their horses. Flying to strike the demonic wedges burning holes through bodies with a force that spoke of the Great Angels of Old. Adem grinned despite his situation. Things were definitely looking up.

But the corruption of the Jinn Arts was a hundred times worse than Jinn-Magic on _teron_. He sensed Jean take hold of that connection between the lingering grasp of _terael_ , and the terrible might of Jinn-Magic. It was not like Angel-Magic where male and female were separate, it was both together. A combination of opposites fuelling a dark and terrible ability. He sensed her emotions through the _kigare_ also, but that connection had faded significantly from his memories of the last time they were in Kismeria. He decided it must have something to do with the waning Magic of the Battle Angels.

Jean harnessed flows of Jinn-Magic that seemed to make her tremble with violent disgust. She exhaled in excruciating agony as a cloud of shadows formed above another Rahkwel wedge. Ahead of their path to the west. From the cloud fell hundreds of crimson spears that glowed with the same dark and terrible corruption. The spears struck ground within the demon ranks, some splitting through skulls or breastplates. Erupting with corrosive venom that caused bodies to burst or melt amongst screams of pain, terror and outrage.

He could hardly believe Jean had willingly harnessed the Jinn Arts! He had expected her to be fuming with vitriol over the fact that Jinn-Magic had become the new form of battling the enemy. It seemed to be the only hope of remaining alive in such confrontations. The downside—more than the agony of experiencing that Magic—was Adem already felt a severe madness closing in on his mind via the corruption of Jinn-Fendinn.

The Alit'aren continued to battle with approaching Rahkwel from the northwest and southwest. Adem caught a quick look back over his shoulder. He saw waves of goblin riders forcing them towards their city. Perhaps if they had tried to break through their closing ranks to avoid being herded in this direction, they might have had a better chance of survival. They would certainly have reduced the need to fight with such desperate vehemence!

But Adem put his trust in the son of Torin. Kien did not seem a proud man, but his need to uphold the honour of his tribe seemed innate. Adem also realised that what he had seen each time the man's honour was questioned, was a lingering threat of madness upon his heart and mind. The only thing that seemed to withdraw that threat, were the enchanted crystals they wore on their armour. They glowed blood red and hissed with dark smoke when the Alit'aren were wielding their corrupt Fire-Magic. Demon soul _ki'mera_ orbs flowing through the air to be consumed by the stones as if they were magnetic.

Adem and Jean did not have armour, or any of those crystals adorning their clothing, nor did Carl or Wil. His two friends had not yet harnessed the Jinn Arts, though Adem faintly sensed their internal conflict over the necessity of the situation. Unless they could find a way to restore Angel-Magic of _teron_ and _terael_ , Carl and Wil would have to give in to their need and begin to wield Jinn-Magic also. It was inevitable. Adem wondered at the possible outcome of spending years wielding this tainted magic without his medication to sustain him. Kien had also explained on the first night that the Druid Evolo had been killed soon after the Sons and Daughter sealed the Jinn-Lord in Kerak'Otozi. Kismeria had been without a suitable cure for madness ever since. Adem was no longer grinning.

Shienden launched down from the dark clouds above. The dragon's roar filled the air as Adem turned to see Dragon-Flame blanketing the demon horde to obliterate thousands in vicious blue heat. Shienden destroyed the entire horde that had been pushing them from the east. Tusked boar vaporized left a wafting odour of scorched pork on the breeze. Reducing flesh and bone to ashes. Adem instructed the dragon to wipe out the Rahkwel charging in from their right flank. Shienden beat his massive wings against the air to rise and turn. Swooping again over the northern demon horde: spraying thousands of goblins with a tidal wave of fire. Blue incinerating flame burst into the sky like rockets on impact with the earth. What was left of legs and boots looked like small burnt shrubs: stretching for miles, encasing aqua embers. Like burning sprites in blackened coal.

Kien changed direction. Charging now northwest in an attempt to escape being pushed directly through the Goblin City. Adem assumed Fendinn had a large force waiting their arrival. The riders followed in close formation. Fog billowed from the earth as the skies began to darken with the setting sun beyond cloud cover. Lightning flared in crimson bolts that wove through the dark sky like massive demonic tridents. Shienden did not seem concerned as he rose amongst the clouds. Hunting the Grenloc that had tracked them from the skies.

Kien led the riders around the blue flames that scorched the barren earth as dark smoke brought the stench of incinerated demon flesh to Adem's nostrils. Perhaps he would've gagged at the odour if not for the fact that Jinn-Magic was far worse. Its corrupt viscosity still flowing through his veins.

As they rode at a brisk trot—to allow the horses some respite—Adem's vision marked the change in the landscape. Shadowy mounds of stone rubble still rose through the grey fog. Some of them here were ruined fortifications. Collapsed walls stretching in a vast perimeter that they skirted while following its edges. Still headed northwest. Ruined watchtowers lay strewn across their path, forcing them to change direction many times. Rahkwel growled from campfires. Glaring golden eyed, hooked-beaked nosed manlike beings with sharp black teeth. The goblins seemed unaware of the orders to stop the riders as they passed by, but those with pig demons to ride were soon climbing into the saddle at the sounding of horns. Other packs sprang to the alert and gave chase on foot, waving dark spears and axes. Others raising black wooden bows and poison arrows.

The Alit'aren cut them down with cold violent dispassionate destruction. Crimson lightning and shadow flame spheres striking the goblins to cut through armour and chests. Bodies fell with gaping wounds sealed with char or spurting dark blood. Adem and Jean wielded the Jinn Arts to cut down the larger hordes. Somehow, they knew how to combine their strength in Jinn-Magic, resulting in a bloodbath of melted corpses to rival the Battle Angels at full strength. His Golden Soldiers unleashed bars of corrupt Hellfire from their laser cannon arms, combining his matter manipulation ability with Jinn-Magic. Jean sprayed the killing fields with Hail of Acid Spears. Blood red shafts bursting with deadly energies that melted armour and flesh: the enemy wailed in agony and despair.

Shienden dived again, launching a savage torrent of liquid-blue flame encasing pure white heat. It smothered an advancing horde on their tail. Goblin burnt-to-toast boots on scorched pig for dinner! Shienden informed Adem that he had taken out the Grenloc in the skies. Adem wondered at the method of communication between the Rahkwel and Grenloc. He considered it most likely that a Souljhin must be orchestrating the attack, either that or one of the Hex-Warlords. He also wondered then why the High-Servants had not yet shown up in this battle. He guessed the reason might be that they were all truly afraid of him, and that they would not engage him in open confrontation without a direct order by their Dark Lord. Adem wasn't certain that were the case with all of the Hex-Warlords, however. The one that had appeared in his room at the hospital did not seem intimidated in the slightest. In fact, he'd seemed extremely overconfident. He would need to gain many answers from Tarz.

Carl and Wil had flanked Adem and Jean's horse for most of their flight through this region. Both remained behind far enough for Adem and Jean to have a fair perspective of any approaching danger. Adem knew they would both wield the Jinn Arts if they perceived a significant threat to Jean or himself, but their reluctance was palpable whenever they closed within range of his sight. There was great conflict in them over the corruption of Jinn-Magic. They had both already allowed themselves to hold a portion of its foulness, as Adem had sensed it when they did. Perhaps both preparing themselves for the moment that it became necessary to wield its horrid force.

Soon they could see the outskirts of the heart of the Goblin City through the thin mist and fading light. Dark cracks lined the ruined walls that in some places were over forty feet high: gaping holes in the rock most likely from catapults. Adem wondered about the city, who had built it and how long ago. He did not know of any deserted cities this far east of the Green Border. He thought it must have been built sometime during the last thousand years, evidently resulting in a crushing attack by the Shadow's forces. He cringed to think of how many lives would have been lost in such a battle. What terrible tales would he hear when Kien had time to relate the truth of this mysterious place? He no longer had the voice of Arawn or his other Battle Angels speaking to his mind to relate details about the land. That was another change he would have to live with. Yet he knew already that it would cost him vital knowledge of the world and its history. Its magic and their modes of operation.

They were changing direction again to move away from the wall line flanking their left side. The horses were beginning to tire, snorting frantically as they worked up lathers of sweat and grunted in terror of the chase. These were warhorses, but they were clever enough to know when the danger was pressing down upon them. Even they would be afraid to die, whether it was merely instinctual fear or the gripping pressure against their spirit. Adem felt the need to protect them also. Without the _altherin_ things were looking very bad, but he would do all he could to see that the mortal line of horses prospered for the future. He also knew no way to create Portal-Spells using Jinn-Magic. He assumed it was not commonly known or else these Alit'aren would have used it long before.

There had to be a way. High-Servants and Hex-Keepers had used such Portal-Magic during the dawning of the Age of Chaos, and for long before that time also. Perhaps if Serock were still alive, he could win the man's loyalty once more and learn the secret. His fear was that so many years spent trapped in the Pits of Hellfire beneath Kerak'Otozi would have brought corruption back to the heart of the man that was formerly known as the Vampire-King.

Fire and lightning continued to fly from the souls of the Alit'aren wielding Jinn-Magic with a vengeance. Bodies were torn apart by Hellfire. Sprays of dark crimson acid erupted within the enemy ranks: tearing and blistering flesh, charring bone with a force that was glorious and terrifying to behold. Jean seemed to be grappling with the need to wield the Jinn Arts further. Her disgust apparent of the foulness of it in her veins. She seemed to glow shadow crimson within her soul as he gripped her before him in the saddle. She made no sound of woe or terror, yet he sensed the emotions broiling within her like a storm cloud waiting to burst with lightning and thunder.

Adem also fought to control his abhorrence of the Shadow Magic. It was almost unbearable, but he held to his determination to put things right in this world. It was up to him. He could not fail these people after the sacrifices they had made for him. He watched a horde of boar-mounted goblins closing in on his right flank: scorching them with waves of heat and acid that caused bodies to collapse in dark piles that writhed and screamed, melting into charred and smoking viscous sludge. Jean took down a smaller horde to the southwest with Flame Leopards that glowed with the destructive Magic of the Shadow-Lord. Acid and flame leapt from the Spirit Wardens as they ploughed through the enemy ranks. Leopards fought with ferocity. Chomping and shredding through armour and flesh with an ease that was greater than wielding _terael_ in a large link. There was promise to this ability, but the cost could be far greater than harnessing Angel-Magic with the curse upon _teron_ and _terael_.

They had lost no riders so far. Kien had warned them that there was still no known way to perform Healing-Magic without Angel-Magic. Therefore, any man who fell to an arrow or spear must be left behind to die. He would die with dignity to know his honour had been restored. Giving his life in service to the Sons and Daughter. There was that honour again. It was a code that had been ingrained in this world for hundreds of thousands of years before Adem first arrived in Kismeria. Now it seemed to have taken new form within the hearts and minds of its people. It now seemed to be not only the thing that drove them: it was their very reason to exist.

—Arrows flew through the mist from the right flank! Dozens of goblin archers gaining a position where they could fire a deadly strike at close range. Riders and horses began to collapse to the right. Kien was aware and he shouted to Adem and his companions with vehemence, 'Do not stop for them! Their time is now! It is their sacrifice! They will die in disgrace if you endanger yourselves further in an attempt at rescue!'

Adem looked back to see the men scrambling from their fallen saddles to draw blades and hack through Rahkwel that charged forwards through the mist. He saw that they were ruthless even in defeat. Fearless and bloodthirsty. But they had great honour. A hot rage gripped his chest. Some of those men would be younger than him. More blood, more debt to his soul. How much more would it take?

Chapter 3

Goblin City

Carl clung to the reins; fighting to control the wild fervour of his steed. The animals were beyond terrified. Riders fought with ferocity to annihilate the goblin enemies that surged forward from all sides. Carl had his own struggle, grappling with the idea that he would soon need to wield this vile form of Jinn-Magic that felt as if corrosive vapour flared in his chest, fire in his veins and shadows in his mind.

He was not afraid to wield the Jinn Arts. He knew it was inevitable if he wanted to be of any use. He just didn't want to experience that horrid corruption in his soul for one minute more than was necessary. He was also certain the Jinn Lord's Magic would drive him completely insane, in a very short time, unless they obtained some of those precious _elykrario_ crystals _._

He'd had a fine lesson about the red energy absorbing crystals the night before. He had sat with one of the Alit'aren who explained the way _elykrario_ was used to reduce the effects of Jinn-Magic. Without this discovery, the wielders of Kismeria would've destroyed this world long ago. They had apparently been discovered during the Reign of Pendral Dragon-Sword, early on during his rise to fame and power. The man who became known as the greatest Alit'aren of the Age of Chaos had learnt that an enchanted form of rock was able to make both male and female wielders impervious to the madness of the Jinn Arts. It was not an exact science, there were times when the stones were not enough to keep wielders sane. But for most it was the only answer to the continued need for magic to battle the demons of this world.

They were still moving along the outskirts of the ruined wall line of the Goblin City. Herded by those Rahkwel riding demon-boar that screamed with rage and bloodlust: slowly closing the gap. Shienden soared through the skies high above, taking out the enemy in blasts of Dragon-Flame that lit up the night. Blazing blue flames that seemed to roar with Angel-Magic of the Old Ways. The enemy was well prepared however: each time a horde was taken out by the Alit'aren or Shienden, another pack of enemies would appear on another flank. Firing arrows as more riders fell from their saddles: horses collapsing with screams of anguish.

They had lost maybe thirty riders. Carl decided he could wait no longer. He spied Rahkwel along the walkway of a fully formed stretch of wall, aiming arrows from dark wooden bows. Flames erupted along the wall line. Rahkwel screamed! Hellfire melting flesh like sand piles under torrential rainfall. Two arrows flew before Carl could strike however, and two more riders fell with arrow shafts through their necks! Carl gasped, not only to see the deaths of faithful warriors, but also for the nightmare he felt while holding that terrible darkness in his mind and veins. Jinn-Magic made his thoughts swell with paranoia and loathing. His chest burned in torment. Lungs heaved for fresh air amidst the putrid stench of evil!

Goblin archers aimed from the right flank through thin waves of grey mist. Carl slaughtered them with blue and green energies, screaming as flesh blasted into piles. He found changing the colour of the Hellfire easy enough. One of his instinctive abilities via his memories from the Chameleon Arch. Changing colours made it more bearable, the corruption was not so fierce. He noticed some of the Alit'aren glaring at him after he unleashed the Fire-Magic, as if such knowledge had not yet been discovered. Yet moments later the Alit'aren riders began hurling energies burning bright aqua, emerald or golden. They had spied his Jinn-Magic during the chaos and quickly adapted it to their own knowledge.

Adem noticed the change and was suddenly unleashing Jade Javelins from the sky. They split through goblin necks and torsos: bodies exploded with dark emerald power. Jean adapted her own Jinn-Magic, scorching hundreds of charging Rahkwel on the left flank with sizzling blue electricity that tore through chests. Bodies collapsing with gaping wounds spurting dark blood. The path before them began to change again, becoming city streets wide enough for ten horses to ride abreast. They entered after passing through a ruined wall line: into the city's heart.

Some riders split up, darting through narrow laneways. Scouting ahead for an ambush. Shienden roared in the dark skies above. Crimson lightning pulsed. The dragon was also spying for enemies. The riders slowed to a trot: giving the horses a needed recovery. Some breathed and snorted heavily with white foam layering their dark silken coats. Without such a rest these animals may have been pushed to their deaths.

The streets were dark with long lying shadows. Cast by the moon and flashes of lightning: pulsing through billowing black clouds. Thunder rolled through the heavens as if an army of demons growled. Alit'aren were signalling one another in hand sign language. From his memories of seeing through the eyes—hearing through the ears—of ancient Kismerian warriors, Carl was able to translate that their immortal hearing had detected Rahkwel movement closing in from the north and south.

They continued in silence but for the clipping of hooves against the cracked stone paving. Carl began to sense something else that became quite disturbing. It was not from the west, more all around him. In the dark windows he felt eyes watching. He assumed those lantern goblin eyes would shine in the shadows, but he saw no light whenever he looked towards the source. Then he heard it, a whispering, detected in his mind. Not with his ears, he was sure it was a telepathic message. The words were: _Red Fire Lion pounces, Black Shadow Wolf roars, White Snow Fox dances, Blue Water Dragon soars._

It was not Rahkwel, he knew that much. The whispers grew louder. More voices were joining in, hypnotic, enchanted, but deadly. Carl could now sense dozens of pairs of eyes. Staring straight at him from the shadows of arched windows and empty alleyways. He sensed one close by; stared at the window and spoke with his mind. He sent out the question, _Who are you, out there?_

The chants grew louder until they filled his mind with a hypnotizing rhythm; he called out the question, again and again, _Who's out there?_

—Rahkwel horns sounded on both flanks. Carl knew they were not the watchers. The horns much further back behind streets of ruined stone buildings and towers. The Alit'aren were hand signalling furiously! Kien moved close to the Sons and Daughter to whisper, 'We will flee on my signal.'

Carl could not argue with his reasoning. They would be slaughtered within these streets if the goblins gained windows and balconies. Firing arrows and hurling spears at riders and their horses. Carl needed to know the source of those whispers. He sent out another request. _Will you fight for the Blue Water Dragon?_

The reply that came was a male voice that brought Carl memories of that fateful night, long ago.

We will fight for you, Carl Wilder!

The voice was drenched in wickedness. It spoke in the tone of a man long deceased. Corrupted by the Magic of the Jinn-Lord. Just as it was with those Ghosts of Bright. Carl felt a cold flow of air fluttering over his back and shoulders. He could almost feel invisible fingers touching his face and neck. But he was not afraid.

***

Goblins poured from the shadows on the left and right flanks. Aiming arrows drawn from dark wooden bows, peering through shadowed windows of buildings and watchtowers. Another horde closed from the rear riding those savage pigs. The Alit'aren reacted before the strings were released. Wil watched as dozens of the Rahkwel archers lowered their feathered arrows. With the metal tip aimed directly under their own chins. They released the arrows that planted up through their own skulls in dark bursts. Eyeballs blasting out of sockets as bodies dropped with hollow thuds. Wil thought that had been the Alit'aren controlling the minds of the goblins. He could not think of another reason other than demon mind control.

Hundreds more Rahkwel charged forwards through the streets. The riders began to bolt on Kien's signal. A red flare lighting up the dark night sky. The horses moved through narrow streets and laneways at a short canter when possible. Wil and Carl moved to stay on the flanks of Adem's horse. Alit'aren unleashing waves of Hellfire in incandescent bursts: scorching the ancient stone, setting the place alight. Wil looked to Carl to see a pale blue light shining in his eyes, as his friend shouted; 'We're saved!'

A terrible wailing cry of hundreds of souls filled the city streets. The voices were cold and terrible. Wil knew they were not the voices of the living. He felt a cool breeze of soft stroking hands passing over his shoulders, neck and face. He shivered to think that some wraith spirit was about to end his life. Then the flowing winds coalesced before him as pale lights of aqua and gold. Taking human form within the Rahkwel packs. They appeared to be ghosts of Elven men and women.

They emanated a pale blue glow and were carved from slivers of moonlight. Wielding swords, spears or axes of burning aqua, gold or emerald. They began to cut through enemy ranks with supernatural strength and fervour. Blue Lightning-Arrows flew from shadowed archways and windows. Slaughtering dozens in seconds. The Alit'aren seemed as shocked as Wil and his companions. They gazed left and right with expressions of wonder and woe. Some grinned to see these Elf-Ghosts, that took over the fighting grounds: cutting down goblins by the hundreds. Wil gazed to the right. Amongst a horde of goblins, some were struggling to break free. The hands of two or three of these immortal spirits clutched Rahkwel to slit throats, punch blades and arrows through chests. Others were decapitated or cut to pieces as the ghosts hacked off limbs with swords of burning fury.

They rode onwards when the path was cleared. Until they approached a high stone wall on the western side of the city. Thousands of Rahkwel were gathered, chanting in Demon Tongue as a red mist rose from the stone floor. The riders skidding to a halt when they saw the trap before them. Horses stamped and snorted in fear and determination.

Wil looked back to see goblin riders advancing from the east. Herding them towards the wall and the red light that oozed from the earth. Wil watched as the red light glowed. A golden-orange haze opened in the stone floor in a wide circle. A man rose from the Underworld. A Battle Angel! It was _Balor!_

Wil immediately understood when he saw the dark scowl upon the white bearded man's face. Wearing plated red-black cuirass and spiked pauldrons. A double-bladed axe of crimson burning in his two-fisted grasp. Had Balor been turned? It seemed without a doubt that their sacred ally now fought for the Shadow!

Adem seemed to realise also. Shield-Domes of Adem's matter manipulation went up to deflect the first wave of Hellfire. Balor hurled rolling rivers of molten magma at the riders. The fire flowed as a rising wall of red acid: crashing down upon the Shield-Spells that barely resisted the toxic assault. 'What the hell is this?' Adem shouted in outrage. 'Balor, you have betrayed us?' Wil couldn't stand to hear the heartbreak in Adem's tone, the livid disgust. Rage of a madman! The Jinn Arts were having a shocking effect on Adem's state of mind. It did not bode well.

Adem struck back. Six Hellfire Samurai charged towards Balor. Eight feet tall warriors of shadow and flames. Hacking at the Battle Angel and surrounding goblins with crimson _katana_. A few dozen Rahkwel were slaughtered before Balor's awe swung. He struck down every Samurai as if they were flies being swatted, their forms melting back into the stone in red pools. Balor was powerful. Perhaps Jinn-Fendinn gave him extra strengths that his Brothers and Sisters were now lacking.

Wil looked back to the pig riders preparing to charge. In moments they would be overrun. He shivered with hatred for those wretched creatures. Then suddenly his fear formed into an idea. He decided to try to reach the minds of those cursed boar. His sense of their minds was that they were foul and evil beasts, but he used Jinn-Magic to create his own form of mind control. The next moment the massive demonic boars were causing carnage within their own ranks. Bucking their riders free to turn and devour goblin flesh and bones in terrible bloodthirsty grunts. Wil had been able to communicate with the boar using his Dremelden Wood Lore, learnt from the many lives he'd lived within the Chameleon Arch. The rear demon ranks were ground into pig meat as the hungry beasts fed greedily. Dark skinned snouts and eyes of hot coal.

Adem and Balor continued to strike blows at one another. Then the ghost warriors returned! Firing arrows of starlight upon the Rahkwel gathered on the west wall. A streaming river of electric shafts thudded through breastplates and helmets as goblins dropped like apples off the cart.

Balor began to chant. A deep bass rumbling rhythm that spoke of ancient Evil Magic. Slamming his axe haft into the earth. A crimson acid bubble formed in the stone before him in a glowing red circle. The bubble swelled to take the form of a massive red-and-black skinned demon. Standing fifteen feet tall. With huge dark batwings and the skull of a ram. The thick cloved hooves and bottom half of its shaggy flesh was dark. From the waist up, it gleamed a sleek crimson. The skin itself was red, but golden-orange flames also burnt within its flesh like flowing lava.

Wil did not have the knowledge of the Battle Angels to assure him of its kind, but Wil had seen such a demon in one of his memories within the Arch. This was a Krunloc. A fierce and powerful Demon born of the Old Ways Magic, summoned here by Balor's Power. Wil understood it was likely also influenced by the Jinn Arts. As well as the Rift in Time caused by Elarja RinHannen.

The result was a terrifying foe standing before them. Lava filled eye sockets with burning golden ram horns. The Krunloc raised its right fist, a spear of wicked lightning appeared in its grasp burning blood red. Wil wondered why Adem had not called Shienden from the skies. Wil doubted even Dragon-Flame could harm this beast. The Krunloc beat its massive wings to launch skywards. Soon it soared high above the battleground to aim its spear. A bolt of Hellfire-Lightning fell like the Shadow-Lord's Sword. It struck Adem's Shield-Dome. A shredding claw of venom fighting desperately to seize its prey.

Then the beast vanished amongst the clouds, as the great dragon's roar filled the night sky. They battled amidst thunder and lightning with Shienden's raging plumes of blue flame coursing through the blackness. Balor's plan was to distract the dragon while he unleashed death upon the Sons and Daughter.

Balor continued to chant his hypnotic Pagan Ritual. Another crimson bubble grew from a red pool before him. Elven-Ghosts fired hundreds of arrows burning with the Might of Faerie Magic. Hacking through goblin ranks that were cut down, blasted to bits with limbs flying and skulls exploding in cosmic flares. Adem raised six Golden Soldiers, robot figures of pure gold that gleamed in a form similar to his Samurai. Laser cannon arms unleashing beams of light to carve through the bulging crimson mass. Red globs falling to splash and melt stone like acid.

Balor was also greatly wounded by the Hellfire-Lasers. The Shadow Angel planting his axe haft again as heavy Shield-Spells blocked the remaining blasts. Burning red beams deflected off the sphere to slice through Rahkwel by the hundreds. Balor staggered. Jean shouted, 'Tanriel!' Adem shouted, 'Arawn!' Carl roared, 'Math Mathonwy!' as Wil cried, 'Eledisren!'

Lightning fell from the skies in thick blue bolts! Striking the stone to reveal the forms of four Battle Angels, though not the four they had been expecting. Two were female, both riding white horses. Wil recognized their features, Epona and Queen Maeve. The two males he had never seen before. One was tall and broad and appeared to be formed of lime green crystal armour. A face of carved stone and emerald eyes. The figure wielded a crystal hammer. He was barely taller than the average immortal despite his impressive stature: broad chest and shoulders with bulging stone biceps. The other male was taller. He also hovered a foot above the ground. Drawing a circle with the tip of his red glowing spear, the Angel created a symbol of crimson and golden flames. His armour was many coloured jewels and gemstones studding golden breastplate: greaves and gauntlets. An ancient style golden helmet over a face of a man with large dark eyes, similar to a Souljhin. Wil knew this figure from the old memories. He once had a face of pure white bone, a fleshless skull. His slow demise into mortality had supplied his face with skin and flesh, muscle over bone. His short-pointed beard and flowing dark hair gave him a gentler appearance for the Battle Angel known as Neit. Also called the Angel of War.

What occurred next was all out chaos! The two male Angels charged Balor. Slaying goblins around the corrupted Angel. Neit decapitated the crimson beast that was rising from the pool of magma. Maeve and Epona hurled balls of blue flame at the goblins closing on their flanks. No Fallen Angels or Spirit Horses to fight for them this time, they appeared almost helpless compared with their former Angel-Magics.

The Elven-Ghosts were now appearing in waves. Most firing silver-blue arrows that blasted skulls apart in bloody bursts. Others hacked and slashed through the goblin ranks. Decapitating goblins by the hundreds as limbs flew or were cut off at the knee. Swords of Faerie Fury Raging.

The demon boar continued to feast on the goblins that tried to press forwards from the rear. Savage beasts causing carnage to any that tried to pass through their wedge of famished rage. Tearing down the tall demon-men to bite off skulls or bury their snouts in entrails as they chewed through armour and flesh.

Finally, Balor retreated back to the Underworld. A bubble of magma swelled from the stone floor and Balor vanished in a flash of crimson.

The hammer wielding Battle Angel struck blows against the western wall. Shattering the stone and creating a gap large enough for ten horses to ride abreast. A few swipes of his massive weapon and the stone rubble was cleared. The four Battle Angels then positioned themselves along both sides of the entrance to the tunnel, forming a laneway of defence as they faced the enemy on both sides. Wielding sheeted walls of fire and lightning to hold back the goblin advance.

Kien saw the opportunity, shouting to his men to form tighter ranks as they charged for the opening. Wil saw dozens of Elven-Ghosts joining the defensive walls alongside the Battle Angels. Unleashing Lightning-Arrows or defending their ground with enchanted Spirit-Blades.

Once they were through the break in the wall the trap from the goblins was virtually over. Horns of pursuit sounded, but the carnage within those walls would keep most of them detained long enough for an escape. It had been a close call! Wil was tense and close to panic to consider his darling wife alone in this world. Living with the curse of a vampire in her veins. Struggling against all odds to bring order to the vampire covens. To unite them for the Ragnarök Battle. What kind of woman would he see when he faced her again? He had deserted both Hayley and his daughter, for over a thousand years. Would she even feel the same way about him? He needed those answers. He had to look into her eyes and hope that he saw the same innocent farm girl he had met and married on the same day.

They rode on through the storm as Shienden roared again overhead. Evidently, he had dealt with the Krunloc. He soared through the skies without opposition. Scouting the fields for signs of ambush or pursuit.

Chapter 4

Jean's Decree

The riders slowed to a trot, after riding hard from the Goblin City. The horses needed rest and so far, the scouts had not detected any signs of pursuit. That did not mean there would not be further traps ahead for them. Jean breathed slowly in long rhythms to clear her mind after sensing that devastating form of Jinn-Magic in her mind. It was almost as destructive to the wielder as it was for the target. Vile despair filled her soul when she wielded Jinn-Magic. Adem had hardly spoken that night when they made camp. He seemed subdued with worry over so many factors he could not yet conceive let alone control.

The horses ate a rare herb to sustain them while spending up to weeks at a time in these barren lands. Some fresh grasses that resisted the toxins of the East Lands also grew here. These were small treats for the horses as they grazed the dark soil under the watchful eyes of Alit'aren. Horses were precious to these men. They were their only means of survival while making these patrols.

Kien had explained that the Forsaken were also powerful long-distance runners. Something that had been bred into their mixed blood lines. Gifting the half-bloods with greater speed and endurance than ordinary mortals. They had become accustomed to the oppressive nature of the East Lands. They went for days without food, rationing their packs while they sipped drops of water to stay alive with a raw thirst in their throats. They excelled in combat, not only when wielding the Jinn Arts, but also in all forms of weaponry. Their ranks being formed of almost infinite number of experts in particular types of blade. These men amongst them were mostly swordsmen, but Jean noticed some carrying curved short blades for slashing joined by a chain to their wrists for swinging the blades through the air. Short daggers and throwing knives at their belts, a few carried scythe shaped blades: jagged and intricate designs on a variety of hafts.

Kien explained that the blade was the last resort of an Alit'aren. Though, their honour code was such that they would be respected more by their peers if they also used steel as their first method of defence. If it became necessary to wield Jinn-Magic to control demon minds or unleash Hellfire, the honour of the Alit'aren was lowered to a degree. But their position could be reinforced in the ways they manipulated that Magic to wipe out their enemies. It was a detailed code, bound and entangled in the continued use of this corrupt and terrible force.

Her first instincts were to begin planning a new decree, to ban all wielding of Jinn-Magic. She knew Adem would fight her on this, but she understood the real need they faced. They had to restore the capacity to wield _teron_ and _terael_ , for all Alit'aren and Ael Tarael. Jinn-Magic and the curse on those two halves of Angel-Magic were not nearly as dangerous as the threat of the Jinn Arts. If they could not find the answer in a short time, this would be the Dawn of a thousand-year Age of Ruin.

She could see the madness brewing behind the eyes of these men. More than that, she could sense it in them, the wrong: the darkness. They were cursed men, with evil in their veins. They could not stand against such forces for much longer. She understood the Forsaken had been practicing the Jinn Arts for close to a thousand years, yet their code restricted how often it was used. Angel-Magic was still an option up until the last three years. What omnipotent force could be capable of shielding the world from the Magic of the All-Father? It had to be the Jinn-Lord's scheming. But how was it achieved? If they could learn this one fact, they might discover a way to reverse the spell.

She sat by the campfire with Adem. Flames burned amber orange in the darkness, illuminating the lacquered black cuirass and gauntlets of the warriors standing guard. Some of the men were taking shifts to gain sleep. That was another important ritual for resisting the Jinn Arts. Though, these mostly half-bloods or pure blood immortals could go weeks without a good night's sleep. They would still be more alert than a mortal who had stayed up all night to watch the dawn. Carl and Wil sat close by talking in hushed whispers. She could've eavesdropped. Instead she turned her attention to Kien as he approached to press fist to chest in salute.

'Why didn't you tell us more about the Jinn Arts the first night?' She questioned the man with a restrained sense of authority. She would have to dominate over these rabid mongrels when she gained a sufficient army. But for now, she was grateful to the man for keeping them alive. 'Wielding Hellfire and those other dark energies: why did you not equip us with this information before entering further conflict?'

'I feared the wrath of my master, Lady Jean.' Kien replied. 'Lord Tarz would not like me to disclose the extent of our studies in the Jinn Arts without his official permission. In truth, I believe he would've tried to keep you unaware of such practices.'

'Why did Tarz send you out here?'

'Patrols must be kept up along the borders between our camps and the demons of these lands. There is risk, but it is part of the code.'

'Do you feel Tarz sends you on these suicide missions to try to get you out of the picture?' She spoke the words at almost a whisper, yet Kien's visage tightened as he harshly whispered back, 'Know that there are men here not loyal to me. I did not speak your thoughts, but I do not deny them either. My father's death is still a mystery, but I would seek your protection from my master if his rage be invoked.'

'Do you believe your father was killed on orders by your master?'

'I will not speak of such things here!' His voice was gruff and quite amplified. He then spoke at a near whisper to say, 'You should know that Tarz is a very powerful man, perhaps the most formidable warrior of this Age. But is he a threat to the Faith of the All-Father? If that is so, I leave it to the will of the Sons and Daughter to impeach him.'

'Thank you, Kien. You may return to your rounds.'

Jean had never trusted Tarz, and she was not about to start trusting. Worms in the heart of their defence. If Tarz was truly a Shadowsouled, she shuddered to consider his plotting. There would be an investigation into Torin's death. She would have answers, and the riddles would begin to unfurl.

***

Adem had learnt one very important answer to his questions tonight. When he saw the spirit of Balor, summoned against him in battle. He understood a part of Fendinn's great plan. Jinn-Magic on _teron_ had always been part of the prophecies: the Jinn-Lord knew it would occur. _But why is he forever stealing Angel-Magics of the Great Angels?_ He realised now these two factors were entwined, Jinn-Magic and the curse, as well as the dwindling might of Battle Angels. The answer was Balor, and Arawn, Dis Pater, all of them. Jinn-Fendinn wanted the Battle Angels to become mortal. Mad and evil, so that the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor would be forced to do battle with them and destroy them all! The answer seemed to reach in like a cold claw that crushed at his chest. The claw burning as if exuding dry ice. He wanted to scream in outrage and disgust, but his determination to remain sane held true.

That was the answer. He had to kill every last Battle Angel before they became the new High-Servants. This was his fate. Thunder roared with the rage of Odin. Blue thunderbolts ripped through the black clouded skies like Spears of Heavenly Angels.

***

The next day's ride was more suitable for Jean. They moved at a trot, then a canter, then a short gallop. Then they gave the horses a rest, then a trot, a canter, then a gallop again. There were clear running waters through these lands. The horses drank by a riverbank that afternoon as they approached the Forsaken campsite. There must have been forty thousand warriors here, _sei'vani_ servants, women and children. The women were warriors also, most of them Ael Tarael or minor wielders all every bit as deadly with the blades they carried. They wore the _ghoda'sidhe_ dark wrappings and _elykrario_ studded black armour, some with thick dark braids tied back in tails or intricate golden curls. Fire red hair cut short to frame the face; braided fringe tied with coloured beads.

They were magnificent and horrifying. Dark powers brooding in their eyes like crackling menace. Yet they maintained a gentle and delicate manner despite the strength of their muscular stances and graceful agile movement as they patrolled the camp. Tents formed a small city across the dark earth, standing like squat shadows against the red sunset. They were of every colour imaginable, bright golden worked reds, blue and white striped, or red and green stripes, tasselled in gold or silver like draping opulence. There was wealth in these clans. She wondered at the source of such wealth.

There was the old money of Alit'aren and Ael Tarael, but from what Jean had learnt so far, economies had crumbled under the taxation of war and carnage. Kingdoms had fallen, both the rulers and their cities. Many still stood in ruins, or had been rebuilt, but the cities that once stood there really only remained in name. Women wore exotic jewellery, rings and necklaces, earrings and gem studded weaponry. How had the Forsaken maintained such wealth while being outcast from the world? Knowing the answer was perhaps integral to dealing with Tarz. If she could at least threaten to wipe out his cash flow, he might become much more amiable in negotiations.

Kien spoke with his leaders and related their journey. The Sons and Daughter were greeted with praise and honour. A feast was held, and many of their animal stock were sacrificed for the spits. Roasts were done over a traditional flame: of course. Jean did not want to even consider what Hellfire meat tasted like. During the feasting the warriors gathered on the outskirts of the rows of tables began a low chant of remembrance. Songs of the Old Ways, before Jinn-Magic and the curse, days of beauty and wonder.

Jean, Adem, Carl and Wil were kitted out with the _ghoda'sidhe_ clothing and armour, including the vital red crystals studding their gauntlets, greaves, cuirass and pauldrons. They each had dark helmets also, each with splayed dragon wings in black enamel. Word was spreading through camp of Carl Wilder's discovery of altering the colour of Hellfire to create lesser toxic energies. Jean watched as excited wielders practiced such Jinn-Magic in flares of emerald, golden and aqua fire.

Carl's mind was precious regarding Old Magic. Just as Wil was evidently well versed in the Tongues of Wild Beasts. Those abilities obtained within the Arch were also vital in such changed circumstances. They were the powers of knowledge. Jean's special talent since the Arch was grit, she had nerves of steel as she had faced every possible outcome the Shadow-Lord could throw at her, and she had survived! Adem's lasting ability was his matter manipulation, whether learnt secretly in the Arch or discovered after. It was his defining dominance over this world. Something that could not be Shield-Trapped, controlled or stamped out. Those were the powers they would need to achieve victory, that of the Fox, the Wolf, the Lion and the Dragon. And of course, they had a _real_ dragon! Shienden was a fifth point in their combined strengths.

During the feast she sat with Adem to her right, Carl to his right and Wil to her left. Carl and Adem liked to sit and talk together more than Adem was likely to want to talk with Wil. They had been closer friends when they were younger, but for as long as she had known them, the bond was closer between Carl and Adem. They had similar minds, they thought about things the same way, and they liked to discuss these ideas. Jean turned her focus to Wil as the other two began to chat to one another. 'How are you feeling, Wil?'

'I'm just worried about Hayley. I haven't slept well at all during the time we were back home. I had so many dreams about her. Some where she was in terrible danger, but others where the danger _was_ her. I would so hate to see that this world has broken her spirit. Or that the curse on _terael_ has changed her in such a way that she would no longer take me as her lover.'

'Have you asked Kien about her?'

'He says she rules Nordhel. The entire city is now a Vampire Coven, known as her Martyr Coven. There are werewolves there too, gathered from conquests in the Southlands. She has apparently made quite a name for herself. That city is feared and avoided by all. Farms still exist on the outskirts and surrounding lands further out, but they are basically slaves who work the fields and tend stock each day to supply blood to the Coven. So much blood! It is something I completely detest, but it is her life source. Without it, she would perish.'

'I did not realise the situation was that serious at Nordhel. Ghastly to consider an entire civilization being turned.' Yet Hayley was sworn to build a vampire army to fight beside us at the Ragnarök Battle. I am sure the woman felt her sense of honour weighed heavily upon her need to succeed. 'Your wife will still love you, Wil, but remember when you first look into her eyes, you will not recognize her. She has lived over a thousand years while we've been away. She would've fought countless battles, seen terrible destruction. She lived through the Age of Chaos! My advice is don't try to turn her back into a memory.

'Everything changes. It's the same with people.'

'I just hope she hasn't forgotten me and married some vampire prince.'

'I would call that impossible, Wil! Be optimistic. We have to make an impression on these people. She would've waited for you. You're more than worth it.' Wil knew well enough not to mention Janeanne at the feast. If rumours spread that the girl was in fact the daughter of Adem and Jean Highlander, it would put her in terrible danger. She had been so overwhelmed from wielding the Jinn Arts the day before that she still had hardly touched her plate. She sipped apple cider from a jewelled goblet. Then decided she would try to make a sandwich.

Most of the feast consisted of roast pork or lamb, but there was a platter of duck to her left that Wil passed over as she layered up the bread with some cheese. She took a bite and felt the joy of knowing food had not yet changed. It was still bursting with goodness and energy. She was getting her appetite back already. Perhaps this had been another natural healing power to ward against the corruption of the Jinn Arts.

Later, she spoke with Kien. Alone in a tent that was set up for her and Adem to sleep in. Adem and Carl were still at the feast. Wil had turned in early, showing signs of lethargy perhaps attributed to Jinn-Magic. Jean asked the man more about Tarz, with trustworthy guards posted around the tent in case of eavesdroppers. Even half-bloods had exceptional hearing, and there might still be a spy listening in on the conversation. But Jean did not want to wield the Jinn Arts in order to create a Sound-Ward against unwanted listeners. She also thought that might spark a warning signal throughout the camp.

From what she was able to learn from Kien, Tarz had become more stubborn in his aims to continue to wield Angel-Magic when it was possible. Now he was forced to use the Jinn Arts as the only remaining source of great might in this world. The more Kien explained, the more Jean began to dread facing this man and opposing his will. She would need a great army before she could confront him with demands. Finally, she asked, 'How many warriors does Tarz have?'

'You wish to build an army to stand against him?'

'I'm just taking numbers, for now. How many are there?'

'We are five hundred thousand strong! That accounts for ready to fight Alit'aren and Ael Tarael. We also have Aldebrands, Seidrs, _sei'vani_ , soldiers, servants, non-warrior women and children.' Kien spoke with fist pressed to heart, eyes staring with deep pride over his people. Jean nearly gasped when she heard the figures, including a total estimate of a force close to a million strong!

'Who else holds an army of this scale?' Kien shrugged over the question, scratching his head as he replied, 'There are no united armies left in these lands. Kings and rulers do not put faith in comradeship beyond their own borders. The closest thing to it are the warriors of the Hardark Rohn clans, over three hundred and fifty thousand warriors strong. Or the mountain dwellers close to that province. Descendants of Hamdril Longtooth, they are perhaps an army of five hundred thousand including women and children.'

Jean worked the puzzle through her mind as Kien related the approximate size of each army throughout Kismeria when the idea suddenly struck her. She would have to appoint the Forsaken as her army to then enforce her will upon the rest of the lands. The very idea seemed an abomination in her mind, yet she saw no other option. Any other army would be wiped out by the combined might of the Forsaken wielding the Jinn Arts, not to mention their skill in weapons combat. If she went about it another way, she would be inviting massacre.

The Forsaken were an army the rulers of this world would not willingly oppose. She would use their power to intimidate the others to fall in line or be crushed. Force would not be used unless vital though. She remembered well the slaughter of the Honds at the hands of their Battle Angels. She would not allow such human bloodshed again while she was in command.

She called for one of the guards to poke his head through the tent door as she said, 'Fetch the scribes. I have something I want them to take down.'

'What is it, my Lady?'

'It will be in the form of a decree. I'm going to make Rodriel Tarz the High Lord Commander General of the Army of the White Snow Fox!' Thunder boomed. Lightning flared through the tent walls. Pure aqua and wicked crimson tridents of brilliant flame.

Chapter 5

A Dark Queen

Hayley Martyr, High Lady Vampire of the Martyr Coven, and wife to Wil of the Sons of Odin, sat reclined in her throne room. With faithful guards posted around the large chamber that was once the city known as Nordhel. It had a different name now; she had given the city a name that would inspire fear in her enemies. It was known as the Hive. The city had taken some serious damage during the Age of Chaos and the battles that ensued. The higher levels of some outer walls and watchtowers were still under repair, however the former throne room of Tobin Fire-Heart still stood. Pillars of marble and vaulted ceilings of black and green worked with gold.

For a young farm girl to rise so high in the world was a great achievement. Yet she forever longed for the embrace of her husband, to wash away the filth of her terrible curse. She had never forgotten Wil all of these years. She had never taken another lover. She was faithful as a wife. But she was no longer the young girl he had known back then. She had lived over a thousand years as a vampire. Despite looking the same age, it was only skin deep. Her soul was that of a savage hunter and warrior woman. Old and wizened, dark and terrible. She had taken thousands of lives with her own blade in her quest to rule the Covens. Ten thousand even. In her heart she was cold as ice that burnt with the corruption of _terael_ and Jinn-Magic. She had felt so empty and alone during those years, despite her daughter always being by her side. The image of her mother and a joy to her every moment of existence. Though she was haunted by a deep longing to be reunited with Wil—she'd held strong to his memory—and the eternal desire to become old and die like her family and ancestors. Their memories floating amongst the ashes of a cursed Age.

That had all changed a number of days ago. Her husband had returned! She could sense him faintly, a great distance to the east. She prayed to the Great Angels that his path would lead him safely to her arms. She could not communicate with him unless he obtained Battle Angels in Resting Points. That was almost unheard of these days. Hayley being amongst the very few to be joined with a Battle Angel via the connection similar to the _kigare_. Druantia was also still strong, perhaps the most powerful Battle Angel remaining in this world. Druantia had won her many battles, and she was a close comfort in the grip of loss and sorrow that she so often felt.

'Bring the complainant forward,' Hayley commanded. Two tall Nordic vampire men brought forward an aged mortal farmer from surrounding lands, both standing at his side while seizing him by the shirt sleeves. Two more vampire men brought forward the accused on her order, and Hayley listened while the two gave their case on the events that resulted in the theft of three sheep from the accuser's land. The accused was also mortal. A chubby faced old man with white tufts of hair around his ears and dark beady eyes. The complainant appeared just as nervous as the accused in her presence, which was no surprise. The punishment for such crimes was to be turned, yet the same could be enforced upon a complainant who gave false testimony.

Hayley made her judgement against the accused, ordering that he be turned here and now. One of the vampire guards in shining black steel armour bared his fangs and was about to bite into the man's neck. When suddenly Hayley felt emotion through the _kigare_ from her husband. She cried out, 'Stop!' There was no other way to describe it. It seemed that Wil could sense what she had ordered. He could feel the darkness in her, and it made him want to scream!

She had always told herself such decisions were right for building her Nightwalker army. But now she could clearly see the folly of her deeds. Passing the curse on to men and women who should be free of such frivolous concerns, if only she became a strong enough ruler to ensure things like sheep theft never occurred. There were some men guilty of crimes she could not excuse, but here and now she called for mercy. The men were sent away without harm.

Her husband's return had changed her, to a degree. She feared what Wil would think of her when he learnt the true nature of her own crimes in this world. So many they would fill a thousand thick volumes of script. But she was a cursed woman. Her goal ultimately was to escape that curse, for herself, and for all the Nightwalkers. Nothing could stand in the way of that cause. She was hated and despised by many of the rulers of the Free Lands. They called her the Dark Queen. To her the name was a sigil of her honour and duty that she wore close to her heart, but she also felt the cutting nature of their jibe. Most nations still offered blood and shelter to her Coven, but vampires were still a greatly feared scourge upon humankind.

Suddenly she felt the love of her husband fill her heart and soul. Washing away the shadows with pure fires of delight over her decision. He could not know exactly what had transpired, but he knew of the terrible nature of her being. He sensed it, and it filled him with loathing and terror. The emotions he sent were cleansing. She felt light in her heart burning for the first time she could remember, perhaps the first time since she was last by his side. She had become cold and wicked without his love, heartless, cruel and vindictive. He would never forgive her for her crimes! The fear of that gripped her chest with sharp pain, but the love was soft and warm: glowing. It appeased her fears as she gave a deep sigh of regret.

'Won't you forgive me, my love?' she whispered to the air.

'My Queen?' asked one of the guards with fist to chest.

She dared not tell what she knew however, that the Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor had returned to the land. She knew there were still spies within her Coven who were in fact Shadowsouled who spied for the vampire leader Koncha of the Southlands. The return of the Saviours would need to be kept secret as long as possible, or the Jinn-Lord's minions would begin their plotting. Jinn-Fendinn knew of their Arrival, of course, he could see and hear anything that passed through the minds of wielders, including the minds of the Saviours. They would have a terrible fight on their hands to try to restore order and justice in this world. Jinn-Fendinn would bring terror and destruction to all who served the All-Father!

She quickly left the throne room surrounded by guards as she made her way to her daughter's chambers. She found Enserah seated on a small sofa in her waiting room, a warm fire on the white marble hearth worked in images of angels with spread wings. Enserah was perhaps even more beautiful than her mother. The same dark eyes and jet-black hair tied in an intricate braid. There were even hints of Wil in her facial expressions that often-brought memories flooding back of her husband. Enserah was stubborn like her father also. Rising to become one of the most powerful Ael Tarael of the Age of Chaos. The product of a strong line of wielders, as even Hayley's mortal farmer clans often had both male and female wielders born within the records of her ancestors. Combining Wil's strength in Angel-Magic gave Enserah impossible potential when mixed with the vampire curse that also flowed in her veins. These united elements made her deadly strong and swift, yet she had never needed to feed on blood to survive like her kin.

She could walk in daylight, yet she retained all the known powers attributed to vampires. Speed, stealth, alertness and prowess, incredible strength and endurance. She could fly! Even hide in shadows in ways similar to demons. Her sight and hearing were also exceptional even for vampire blood. She was an enigma, and also something that Koncha had coveted for a thousand years as he had made numerous attempts to kidnap Enserah. Longing to learn her secret of walking in daylight.

'What are you reading, child?' Hayley asked with a tight grin.

'Mother, I am far too old to be called child anymore!'

'Forgive me, dear one. The book, what is it?'

Enserah wore a deep blue gown, sewn with white pearls around the neck and lace covered sleeves. Her apple red cheeks glowed with contempt over the comments, as she wriggled in her seat to try to regain comfort in her posture. Then she smiled, and Hayley's chest burned every time that happened. Not only for the fact that she always saw Wil in those smiles, but also for the fact that Enserah had never grown long canines like others of her kind. Perhaps it was a sign that she was not created to drink blood like her kin. She was nourished purely by normal human consumption of animal, mineral and vegetable matter. What struck Hayley about her daughter's teeth was the fact that it sparked the memory of her own curse, her abnormal looking smile similar to a wolf's grin. As well as the fact that Enserah also carried part of that curse in her soul.

It was for her daughter that Hayley wished to end the vampire curse more than anything, and somehow, she would succeed. To ensure they both began to age again. Enserah still looked like a woman barely past eighteen, much as Hayley had looked when she first met Wil. The defining difference between them now was that although Hayley's eyes showed the weariness of time, Enserah's gaze remained youthful, hopeful: even joyous. When in fact they were relatively of similar age.

It was a part of the mystery of Enserah. For although she had never married, there was one man in her past that she had loved perhaps as strongly as Hayley loved Wil. That man was Pendral Dragon-Sword, and although he at one time had also had an interest in Enserah, their destinies did not become entwined in love and marriage. Pendral had fathered a boy in his lifetime, and Rayne had also caught the eye of her eternally youthful daughter. But the boy seemed puzzled and afraid of Enserah and her curse. He too found love with another woman before his own demise.

'It is a book about the life and death of Pendral Dragon-Sword,' Enserah replied. The way she pronounced his full title would suggest she had never even met the man.

'Why are you reading it?'

'I hope to discover some secret, Mother. I believe there is knowledge in the records of Pendral and Rayne that could help the Sons of Odin in their quest towards the Ragnarök Battle.'

'Have you learnt anything thus far?'

'I'm still trying to puzzle out the cryptic nature of prophecies surrounding Adem Highlander, Pendral's father!' Again, she spoke of Pendral as if the name was alien to her lips, but Hayley distinctly noted the way her daughter trembled with emotion after speaking his name. Hayley turned to her guards, 'Leave us.'

When they were alone Hayley related the news that she was certain Wil and his Brothers had returned to the land. Enserah almost burst with emotion and started gibbering excitedly when Hayley pressed a finger to her own lips to silence her before she added, 'You must tell no one of this. The High-Servants and Hex-Keepers will already be seeking out word of their every movement. We must restrict the amount of information they can obtain. I just wished for you to know that your father has returned. You can meet him: get to know the man he really is. Not just read about him in old books.'

Enserah leapt from the chair and threw her arms around Hayley as they both held each other tightly, whispering sweet things to one another as they both began to sniff and sob with grief and joy. Hayley felt her heart brighten once more, a pure light shining there that was warming but also cool: the wonder of love and the spirit returning to her senses. Carl Wilder had often called such feelings internalised reactions to thoughts and ideas, and the environment, but the man was a spiritualist first and foremost. He knew it was the soul cleansing of the Magic of the All-Father. _Terael_ still existed in the world to an extent, as did _teron_ also. It could still be felt, sensed, and used to heal wounds that had festered for a millennium. But it was love that sparked those fires. Love for a man who had abandoned his wife and child for a thousand years, though she could not blame him for it. She would love Wil Martyr for eternity.

***

Enserah wept in her mother's arms as time drifted into evening. When her mother left, Enserah reached for her cloak, a fine green silk worked with golden embroidery. She made her way through the hallways with two of her guards striding at her side. The entire palace was kept dark throughout the daytime. Windows were painted black to block out the sun's rays. Torchlight glowed day and night in every hallway and chamber.

During her walk she passed many of her mother's advisors marching the hallways with guards of their own in tow. Many of the women of the Coven were also former Ael Tarael. Powerful wielders that were now reduced to the Jinn Arts as their only form of might. Their Aldebrands were also of the Coven: mostly they were Nordic blood as most had been residents of the city of Nordhel when the vampire plague began to spread out of control. That was long before her mother Hayley took over the city and became its ruler.

Many of the Ael Tarael and their Aldebrands were also mortal blood. Some had survived over a thousand years due to their vampire curse. Though, throughout the Free Lands there were thousands of wielders and Aldebrands that had lived just as long without the vampire curse, even though they were also mortal. There was no precedence for such longevity. Enserah had studied this phenomenon to try to puzzle out its meaning. The answer, she believed, was that the curse on _terael_ and Jinn-Magic on _teron_ , was somehow sustaining mortal wielders with longer lives than Angel-Magic would alone.

In some cases, the changes that took over those wielders were unspeakable, like the Witches of Rolimbtorel and their Warlock kin of the Age of Chaos. That was during the time of Rayne Dragon-Sword. When the immortals declared war upon those traitorous Ael Tarael and Alit'aren that had become so corrupted they served willingly as Shadowsouled. There were now rumours that a new Coven of Witches and Warlocks had set up residence at Rolimbtorel. An underground city of ancient magic that resided in the very stone walls and floors within its depths, and that this magic was the source for cutting off Angel-Magic from the wielders of _teron_ and _terael_.

Enserah believed the rumours to be true, and she had sent scouts to search out the ancient ruins surrounding Rolimbtorel to try to assess whether it could be proven. That would mean a great adventure would follow, and Enserah loved adventure! She would be able to join her father and the legendary Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor, on a quest to regain Angel-Magic. Her mother had told her endless tales about the grand adventures she had shared with the Saviours before Enserah was born and the sealing of the Jinn-Lord at Kerak'Otozi when Enserah was just a baby.

Those stories thrilled Enserah! She dreamed of one day fighting beside her mother and father against the Shadow and His minions. She had been in many exciting battles during her lifetime, including fighting alongside Pendral Dragon-Sword and then his son Rayne. They were fine memories: that she kept close to her heart with joy and sorrow. She had loved Pendral like no other man she ever met, and her feelings for his son Rayne seemed to be transference of those feelings onto his lookalike offspring. They were very different men, however. Pendral was hard like stone. Dark and intimidating, proud and defiant. He appeared resilient to Jinn-Magic, despite the darkness that seemed to always radiate from his soul. Rayne was only a boy when she first met him, and although he had his father's looks, he was kind and soft, gentle with compassion and honesty. They were immediately recognizable as twin opposites.

Finally, Enserah arrived at one of the largest libraries in the palace. Despite the wars that plagued Kismeria for the last thousand years, the recording of knowledge in the written word was of foremost importance for anyone in the field of making such records. The Hive had perhaps the largest collection of books remaining in the Free Lands, but there were many libraries filled with knowledge of the ancient days as well as the events of the past thousand years of history. Books were still fragile however, and perhaps the only reason they had not been wiped out again when the High-Servants broke free from Kerak'Otozi, was the discovery of a new form of recording knowledge, that also made traditional books an obsolete practice.

The module for operating the device stood in the centre of the library space, between two long high shelves filled with books of every coloured spine imaginable. The module was pure gold, standing at waist height with a tilted face for looking down onto the glass display similar to an open book. This display had limitless number of pages to show, records of every book ever written during the last thousand years, as well as those that were salvaged after the High-Servants attempted to destroy all recorded knowledge at the Dawn of the Age of Chaos.

It was an invention created by Pendral. A genius of innovation, he apparently envisaged the device from dreams of his father Adem's memories from his home world. Combined with stories told to Pendral by Tobin Fire-Heart and Orion Demon-Slayer, about Carl Wilder's recording machine known as a komputah. Carl Wilder had apparently described the komputah many times to Tobin and Orion, as a means of securing knowledge that could not be so easily destroyed as books with fire. Adem Highlander had apparently also carried a similar device from his home world used for communication: that he showed to Orion and Tobin when he learnt to charge the device by wielding _teron_.

Pendral invented the device and its operating systems in the hope that if a new cure could be found for the curse and Jinn-Magic, they would be able to record that knowledge in a way that would be very difficult for the High-Servants to undo. However, there was never another potion of such miraculous potential as that created by the legendary Evolo Marzosiel. The komputah therefore became a means of recording all knowledge, securing studies of the Jinn Arts and Angel-Magic while it was still possible to wield. Inventions of machinery and weaponry, many of them created by the immortals in memory of the Golden Soldiers and other Spirit Wardens created by Adem Highlander and his companions. Most of those weapons stood on the towers of the walls that sealed off the mountain passes of the Green Border. But there were others throughout the cities of the Free Lands. Some that spat piercing shards of metal at rapid fire. Others that used _elykrario_ crystals to absorb Jinn-Magic as long metallic structures unleashed bars of Hellfire to wipe out demon hordes. The weapons were powered by multiple wielders joined in a link.

Enserah had no interest in such destructive devices today. She tapped the interface to bring up archives of books surrounding the life and death of Pendral Dragon-Sword. They were amongst records of his son Rayne, as well as the history of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. Komputah was not an isolated device. It was everywhere. These modules simply served as a means to obtaining the information that floated through the air by pure magic. Komputah's modules were formed mostly of metals and crystals and were fuelled by a form of Angel-Magic. The fact that Angel-Magic still fuelled the devices was evidence that could be studied to learn how to wield _teron_ and _terael_ once more.

The point was, Kismerian komputahs were more magic and less science than those used in Carl Wilder's universe. Carl had been a scientist, and studies of this art form had begun to spread widely throughout the Free Lands following his exit from this world. Druids became obsessed with discovering the secrets of nature as they became investigators of the elements and their foundations. Members of the Druid Guild were also hunted and destroyed in large numbers by the Hex-Warlords and Hex-Keepers, once the enemy leaders began to break free from their prison at Kerak'Otozi.

Carl Wilder's teachings of the Hero, Jesus Christ, also founded a widespread movement of a new religious practice and worship, known as the Holy Bible. Most Kismerian followers of Christ were adamantly opposed to all vampires, including but not especially those that served under her mother Hayley within the Hive.

Vampires were susceptible to the Power of Christ also. The crucifix symbol was a powerful ward against Nightwalkers, as was his name when spoken aloud in the presence of vampires. Enserah was also fragile when such powers were invoked against her, and she was called many names of evil and despised by the followers of Christ. However, Carl Wilder's teachings of Christ brought great change to the beliefs and practices of the Free Landers. The Christians were on the battlefields to carry the injured to healing tents, many of their clan taking on the role of Druid Healer whether or not they were able to wield for traditional Healing-Magic, or whether they could only bind wounds in bandages and apply poultices and ointments to reduce infection.

Christian churches donated to the sick, the poor and the elderly in every city where they could intervene with anything they judged as unfair or unjust in the eyes of Christ. Enserah did not fear Christians, although she knew any one of them would drive a stake through her heart if they were given the opportunity to cleanse her soul. Christians were perhaps only likely to have a violent streak when in the presence of a Nightwalker. Otherwise they followed the teachings of love and forgive your enemies. Honour the Lord God and His Son.

It seemed the Power of Christ was growing in the world. Perhaps as a result of the faith of his followers, but perhaps also as Christ was said to be the One and Only Son of the One Lord God. Greater in might than even Odin Lightning-Lord in his Magic of the Old Ways. There was little evidence that Christ's Power was as infinite as that yet, in Kismeria at least, but the strength of symbols of Christ to ward against Nightwalkers seemed to increase with every passing year. Even looking at a crucifix on the komputah gave Enserah a throbbing headache: though for her mother it was a burning pain that Hayley swore left scars on her mind and took days to heal. With ordinary Nightwalkers, a Christian Priest holding up a large wooden crucifix and invoking the name of Christ could set the vampire victim on fire! In some cases, it was a fire that turned the Nightwalker to ashes in a matter of seconds.

Enserah searched the archives until she scanned over a number of records prescribed as being prophecies of the Return of the Sons of Odin. She sat for a number of hours reading through the cryptic documents, trying to decipher their meaning. She noted two sentences that filled her with dread.

'Komputah, isolate prophecies 191 and 197 and display in blue.'

The words appeared floating in mid-air spanning the length of one of the shelves, sparkling blue energy that crackled and fizzed.

The Wolf will become blinded to the lure of corruption.

The Dragon will fall under the might of its own Shadow.

Both prophecies spoke of great danger to two of the Sons of Odin, the Blue Water Dragon and the Black Shadow Wolf. Adem Highlander was the Water Dragon. That was common knowledge. Enserah's fear was her mother's words that Wil Martyr was known as the Wolf.

Chapter 6

Forsaken Ruler

Rodriel Tarz awaited the arrival of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. He was anxious about that meeting. The White Snow Fox could be deadly against his position as ruler of the Forsaken. Word had reached his ears of the new decree, and although it gave many promises, he greatly feared what traps Jean Fairsythe may have devised within that scheme. Since the death of the Grey Bear—his former commander Alit'aren and the man who had been the real leader up until that time—Tarz had taken on all responsibility for the clans.

He sat reclined at a meeting table in one of the War Chambers built against the High Wall, the tallest and deepest of the barriers formed between the Green Border mountain ranges and the East Lands. Twelve of his appointed advisors were also present, all immortal Alit'aren of the Four Clans. There were in fact more than four immortal clans these days, but the Alit'aren Forsaken only recognised the original four that had existed during the Reign of Adem Highlander.

Jinn-Magic on _teron_ and the curse upon _terael_ had brought about the existence of various sub-species of immortal kin. The most feared of those were the Eva'Hahlen, also commonly known as Dark Elves. Eva'Hahlen were evolved from the Wood Elf clans, predominantly the Wood Kin and Archers of the Dremelden forests. They followed no appointed leader: they were nomads. Sometimes inhabiting great caves under mountains, though they preferred woodlands and forests as they were still closely tied in blood and spirit to the Old Gods of Trees and Earth. Dark Elves were expert hunters and trackers, as fleet footed as the Dremelden and every man and woman of their clans were exceptionally skilled at combat, but particularly archery.

In the last three years Tarz had sought to gain an alliance with the Dark Elves, particularly as they shared the common bond of wielding Jinn-Magic. However, the Eva'Hahlen were different to most immortals, Jinn-Magic and the curse had corrupted their minds and souls to the point that it was questionable if anyone could trust them. They were forever at war with their Dremelden cousins, battling for dominance over the forests that remained in Kismeria. Blood feuds between those two clans were fierce, dating back almost as far as the Dawn of the Age of Chaos.

The Dark Elves had appeared quite quickly, as divisions began within the Dremelden clans, those that continued to wield the corrupted Angel-Magic, and those that wished to use only Jinn-Magic. Those divisions cost many lives of blood spilt over leaf and stone, and the former King of the Dremelden had demanded retribution, sparking the uprising known as the Wars of the Dark Archer-Clans.

But the Dark Elves did not stop there. They began raiding farms and villages for animal stock and harvested grain. They slaughtered innocents of all Four Clans across the Free Lands, as rulers of every nation declared war on the Eva'Hahlen and joined their forces in an effort to eradicate them. That was when the Dark Elves discovered networks of caves where they could hide and hold positions through narrow passes where it was futile to follow even with an enormous force of warriors. The Dark Elves were left to breed and rebuild, often seeking peace with the other nations so that they might return to their forests without further conflict, but their lack of leadership always fell on deaf ears.

Their numbers were now so great however, they moved freely throughout the lands without opposition, so long as they traded for food and kept the peace. The blood feuds still ran deep between the Dark Elves and the Dremelden, that and their hunger for living amongst the Great Trees. Tarz had sought their help in fighting on the Green Border because he feared he would otherwise be commanded to wipe out the Eva'Hahlen. His Forsaken were the only clan large enough in the Free Lands, the Forsaken being the sixth clan of the new sub-species of immortals. Forsaken had mixed their bloodlines with mortals for the last millennia, which in some ways meant they were weaker than the Dark Elves despite their numbers.

Tarz glanced at the portable tablet screen on the meeting table, a steel framed crystal display with which he could access Komputah. The device was vital for many reasons, recording metallurgy for weapons and engineering of stone and steel defences, battle histories and histories of the nations, along with many other advantages his people had gained since the komputah was created.

'How many days until they arrive?' Tarz asked his fellow commanders, who also looked at portable displays with reports from the Forsaken camp within the East Lands.

'At least another five days if they push the horses hard,' replied Captain Jen. A tall green eyed Torvellen with jet black short spiked hair, and a single thin braid falling down his back, tied with a blue bead. Jen's story stretched back to the days of Rayne Dragon-Sword's rise and fall within Kismeria. He had been a simple farmer in those days. When war ravaged lands forced him to move to the safety of a city where he was recruited as a Shadow Wolf Captain of the Guard for his evident skills at combat. He descended from a long line of captains and generals, though before he was recruited, he had sought the peace of the farmer's life with his wife and soon to be born daughter, Kiera. 'Reports say they will move swiftly to arrive in short order, though I must say that I have fears of further attacks while they remain in camp.'

'The camp will suffice to sustain them,' Tarz replied.

'Yes, but they will draw enemies to them like bees to honey,' Jen interrupted. He was never afraid to state his opinion. 'The longer they remain in the East Lands; the further we risk the camp's defenders tenfold!'

'I do not think you will be so pleased to face the wrath of Jean Fairsythe when she finally arrives.' Tarz said. 'If we can delay that arrival by not pressing their departure, I for one will be glad of it.'

'I give you my expert counsel all the same, Lord Tarz.'

'It is duly noted, Jen Terendel. Now, let us prepare for what we will say when they do arrive. Komputah, display the new decree set forth by Jean Fairsythe, every detail in bright blue on black.' The words of the decree appeared floating in the air above the table with optimized viewing. Particularly for Tarz as he had given the order. Again, when Tarz read those words carefully, at first, he liked what he saw. But his nervousness forced him to pick apart every word to try to spell out what traps may lay in wait for him and his people. 'Komputah: read the decree at volume level seven using the voice of Jean Fairsythe.' Komputah responded in the exact voice and tones of the White Snow Fox as details of the decree were amplified to the audience. It was a recording of Jean's voice when she had instructed the new decree to be created using another tablet in the East Land Forsaken camp.

The White Snow Fox enlists Lord General Tarz as Captain Commander of her armies to bring peace and unification to the Free Lands.

Lord Tarz will answer directly to the Daughter of Thor for any mistakes in the proceedings of restoring order.

The White Snow Fox places all authority of the Saviours in the capable hands of General Tarz.

The Forsaken army, under the command of Rodriel Tarz, will compel the people of the Free Lands to end civil war and other unrest by means of negotiation and a show of force before it ever becomes necessary to exert that force.

The Forsaken armies will provide subsidised elykrario stones from their mines to distribute amongst the Free Landers to ensure the corruption of Jinn-Magic may be diminished while it is still necessary to wield the Jinn Arts.

That point irked Tarz to no end. Jean had obviously discovered the source of the Forsaken wealth was their trade for _elykrario_ with the rest of the lands. Depending on the level of subsidy, this could bring ruin to his finances. He wondered if that was the reason why she had chosen him as her commander.

The White Snow Fox will require Lord Tarz to exhibit strict punishments against any who fail to follow the orders of the decree.

Any who are found guilty of such crimes will be cleansed of ever wielding Angel-Magic again, by order of the White Snow Fox or her Commander General.

That was another clever use of wording Tarz realised. He recognized the trap within, that if Jean decided Tarz had broken the decree, it would be Jean's right to exercise such punishments. Jean would also no doubt still wish for vengeance over the murder of Ael Tarael during the old Reign of the Saviours. As well as retribution for men like Tarz breaking the oaths of her first decree to banish male wielding of Angel-Magic as well as her second, to outlaw wielding Jinn-Magic. If the Snow Fox could provide proof of any of these, the easiest being his defiance of her old decrees, she would likely order a sentence as sure as death itself.

***

Elarja RinHannen rode his tall white horse through the smoke and floating ash towards the High Wall on the Green Border. Behind him rode a host of the First and Second Generation of the Children of Odin. Each of them had exceptional gifts granted to them at birth. On the same night as, the great lightning storm that signalled the birth of Pendral Dragon-Sword in the First, and his son Rayne in the Second Generation. The storms were known as Odin's Awakening and Odin's Return, Rayne's being the latter known as the Return.

The lovely blond-haired immortal woman Rievenna Light-Bow moved her grey mare up alongside Elarja's horse. They both gazed up at the towers and walkways of the structures that massed on the west side of the Wall. It was early evening, but no lights glowed in the towers or windows of other structures. That was one of the things that immediately did not seem right to them.

'Are we in the wrong time again?' Rievenna asked. The woman had been a close companion of Rayne's during his early adulthood. Elarja had recruited the woman soon after the Fall of Rayne. She had loved Rayne dearly, and as an immortal that meant she had never chosen another partner since the loss of her beloved. Rievenna nearly always wore a grim crooked smile with large blue eyes glowing with sadness since those days. She had never forgotten the boy she had placed so much hope in.

'It seems the Time Stones and the Rift are still not synchronising,' Elarja replied. 'I fear this may be a future of ill fate.' Elarja had journeyed with his companions through the timelines ever since Rayne was lost to the world. The problem was that the Time Stones were malfunctioning. They never took him to the right place, or the right time. A 'future of ill fate' was a potential future that he visited ahead of present time where things turned out worse than he could have hoped.

—A jet black sleek shadow charged out of the red and grey haze, a Nymloc running on all fours like a hound. Fang shaped crimson eyes glowing like hot coals. Nymloc were long limbed muscular demons, usually with bull's or ram's horns. This one had the pointed ribbed horns of a goat, however. It crossed the distance and was about to close with Elarja's horse. Rievenna unleashed a flurry of golden arrows from her gold and silver worked bow, setting the dark flesh alight. The demon wailed on the earth in agony before it exploded into ashes.

The rest of his companions were on the alert now. Growls of more demons echoed from the shadows. Suddenly a horde of Jacoulra were pounding their heavy hooves through a swirl of dust. Thick bulky bodied black skinned demons with the similar ram shaped black skulls like Nymloc, bull or twisted ram horns with long sleek eyes like large seeds that glowed in a variety of colours for each demon.

Flares of light and energies flew from the weapons of his companions that rode horses on his flanks and further behind. Spears unleashing blue lightning. Bows firing arrows of coloured flame. Energies struck the advancing demons and burnt holes through chests. Bodies began to collapse and melt like folds of dark tar. Hamuko summoned his Hounds. Massive grey skinned dogs appeared out of the air to charge and bite and claw savagely at demon flesh. Brealda unleashed her Stone Spears from the skies. Grey javelins falling to plant blade down in the earth as green flames erupted to strip demon flesh from bones.

He had eleven companions, all of them Children of Odin. He had chosen them because none of them would be hunted by Calliach the Angel of Death, as they had been recruited before any of their natural deaths had been recorded. A natural death for an immortal was usually still dying in battle. But Elarja had seen this option to recruit as better than rescuing nearly dead Heroes from the past, who would then be hunted by Calliach. Making his adventures much more difficult.

The demon horde was wiped out by the strength and abilities of his companions. Hounds growling as they crushed demon thigh bones and skulls in their jaws. Elarja did not raise a hand in his own defence. He trusted his followers to uphold their honour by protecting him. They rode closer to the stone defences and moved along the ruined and in some places burning walls. Elarja spotted a single torch light glowing in one of the walkway windows. His immortal vision noted a single man of half mortal half Nordic blood. A grey moustache and dark eyes staring out under his steel Alit'aren Guard helmet. 'I give you greeting, lone warrior!' Elarja shouted to the man. 'Where are the Wolf Guard, the Alit'aren, where is everyone?'

'Give your name so that I may decide whether to descend!' The man shouted. Elarja could see a heavy door of metal alloys barring his passage to the walkway staircase, and although Angel-Magic would suffice to break it down, Elarja did not want to frighten the man.

'My name is Telgrol Ardoshi,' Elarja shouted to the soldier. 'I am a former Librarian of Nordhel.' Elarja used many names and disguises when travelling the past and future, but today he wore the dark eyes and hair with tan skin of a disguise that had mostly worked for him in the former days of the Saviours. His armour and weapons were hidden beneath a plain brown robe of Illusion-Magic worked with the sigils of the former Librarian Guild of Nordhel.

'What good is a librarian to me?' The man shouted. 'Though, I have noted the skills of your companions. They wield the pure forms of Angel-Magic, so they must be Children of Odin.'

'That is truth, as you speak it,' Elarja replied. 'I come seeking information for the royal records. King Turin has assigned to me the task to survey this area and report back on the situation. What has occurred here?'

'I doubt your words, librarian! But I am without hope, and I believe you to be a friend, so I will impart my tale. Three years following the return of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor, the Ragnarök Battle had begun.' That gave Elarja an approximate idea of what year he had arrived at. He had intended to reach the East Land Forsaken camp, early on during the new arrival of the Saviours. He was at least three years too far ahead in time. He feared greatly what this tale would tell, but knowing the potential future was always an advantage in his view. 'Three years, and the demons began to pour out of the East Lands, striking against our High Wall and the other defences of the Green Border. Our Alit'aren were strong in their defences, but the demon hordes were too massive. They overwhelmed us! Death and torment, torture and blood! Then the Souljhin came. Invading our keeps and strongholds from the shadows. Moving in like Death himself as they stealthily crept and slid in waves of carnage.

'The Alit'aren numbers were also greatly diminished by then, as many had sacrificed themselves to attack behind enemy lines, but they were also routed and destroyed, though their honour was great. Soon even the Sons and Daughter were outnumbered and surrounded. Closed in a small chamber where the Souljhin moved in like wolves to pick at the scraps! I survived only by hiding under the fallen bodies of my comrades. I waited for days until the growls of demons had subsided before showing my face to the shadows.'

'Where are the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor?' Elarja asked with restrained horror.

'They are dead! All are dead! I am all that remains, though I too shall exert my own death very soon. By spilling my own blood to redeem honour for my cowardice. Though if truth be told, the Sons and Daughter had been cut by Souljhin blades long before I hid myself in shame and defeat.'

Elarja wanted to scream in terror and outrage! Not for the soldier's lack of courage, but for the news that in this future of ill fate, the worst possible outcome had occurred.

'Why did Komputah not warn you of the Souljhin invasion?'

'Komputah failed us! I fear Jinn-Magic may have corrupted his programming, but I am not wise in such matters.' Elarja considered his words very wise, however. Elarja had never considered that the form of Angel-Magic used to create Komputah could be corrupted.

'Where is the demon army now?' Elarja called to the soldier.

'The bulk of their hordes crossed the Green Border seven days gone. They are likely now turning the farmlands and villages into barren wastelands. Soon the Jinn-Lord will rise again. All will be lost.' Elarja watched as the soldier raised a long hunting knife as if he was about to strike himself in the stomach.

'Wait! Warrior of the Forsaken, do not take your own life!' Elarja shouted.

'What honour is there in living?'

'What if I could offer you a chance to redeem your honour, and still live?'

'How could such a thing be possible?' the man's doubt was blatant.

Elarja revealed his true form: shining emerald eyes and jet-black spiked hair, his shining emerald armour and twin sword hilts rising above his shoulders.

'I am Elarja RinHannen. Time Strider and son of Rodin Cloud-Walker, First King of the Nordics. I offer you the chance to join me. Aid me with your knowledge of this battle and the events that unfolded. Your knowledge is precious to me. You may regain great honour before the Great Angels if you accept!' Elarja's cry was almost desperate. He needed this man's information. It was perhaps vital to discovering a way to alter these events from occurring.

'I see that you are the true Nordic King!' shouted the man. 'Perhaps your path will lead me to regain my honour, for that is more important to me than life itself. Even though I chose life over honour when it mattered most.'

'What is your name, soldier?'

'I am called Satiel Bellson. I was amongst the High Guard of the Wolf that served to protect Lord Tarz. May his name be remembered in the Great Songs.'

'Then open your gates, Satiel Bellson of the Wolf High Guard. You may yet have your chance to save the Saviours.'

'Where are we going now?' Rievenna asked as Satiel descended the staircase and unlocked the gate. Some of his companions joined the Wolf Guard to secure supplies before departure.

'A change of plans,' Elarja explained. 'We're going to go and pick up an old friend. I imagine you will be particularly joyous to be reunited with him.'

'You mean Rayne?' Rievenna's eyes lit up with elation as Elarja nodded in reply. The woman's own smile returned to the beauty Elarja recalled of her youth in those days. Choosing to recruit Rayne Dragon-Sword was a great risk, with great costs measured within that decision, but it was a risk he had to take.

'I did not foresee this,' Rievenna said with a grin of delight, her eyes sparkling like blue gems.

'Yes, but in another life, you may have. The Rift grows stronger every day.'

When his men had returned Elarja asked Satiel, 'Why did the Saviours not escape via Portal-Magic when they knew they were outmatched?'

'The Portal-Spells would not open, Lord Elarja!' Satiel stammered with grief. 'I fear it was the work of Komputah.'

That news filled Elarja with deeply grave concerns. He was aware from his journeys through time that a new form of Portal-Magic would be discovered by Carl Wilder via Jinn-Magic. If Komputah truly had become compromised, it might explain why the Time Stones kept taking him to the wrong time and location. The Rift and Jinn-Magic had been his only theory at first. But Komputah may have obtained a means of spreading his influence over all of time itself, stretching back as far as the Dawn of Ages. His greatest concern was that Komputah could never be stopped by any method he could conceive. Komputah was everywhere; there was no way to shut him down. The system had been created to preserve knowledge, but also to act as a network of spies for the world to combat the ever-growing knowledge of the Jinn-Lord. However, if Komputah had become susceptible to Jinn-Magic on _teron_ , he would become a willing servant of Jinn-Fendinn.

Chapter 7

Souljhin Raid

Adem was woken by the sound of an old church bell, the tolls repeating clearly and faster than anyone could swing such a large device even if one existed here in the Forsaken camp. In a dazed state he realised it was an alarm. Komputah was sounding out a warning of an attack on the camp! He threw back the sheets as Jean sat forwards rubbing her eyes. Alertness soon took over her visage. They leapt from the bed and began to dress in the dark garb and armour of the _ghoda'sidhe_. An Aldebrand posted at the tent door looked in to confirm they had been surprised by a sudden and large scale Souljhin raid!

_Sei'vani_ rushed into the tent to assist Adem and Jean with their armour and weapons. Aldebrands and Alit'aren closed in around the tent to form a barrier in case the Souljhin chose them as a primary target. Adem wasn't certain yet whether that was the intention of the Shadow, or whether this was merely another attempt by Fendinn to force the Saviours to wield Jinn-Magic. He remembered the numerous times High-Servants had told him it was the Jinn-Lord's plan to turn the Sons of Odin to the side of evil, as it was a part of the Dark Prophecies, and perhaps a necessary plot in Jinn-Fendinn's hopes of victory.

—A Souljhin assassin sliced an entrance in the side of the tent, dark cloak flowing as it slithered forwards with a red blade raised. Adem reacted instinctively, using his thought into matter manipulation to create his own assassin standing behind the Souljhin. A tall Jade Warrior in glowing emerald samurai armour: large round samurai style travelling hat and black metal _mengu_ mask covering his face below the eyes. The Warrior clutched the Souljhin by the chest, pulling it close as the demon-man struggled helplessly in the grasp of its captor. Emerald blade of light slid horizontal to slit the throat of the Souljhin so fast it severed the pale skull from its neck! The skull fell in a spurt of dark blood: seed black eyes of menace glaring for vengeance.

Adem was handed his new sword. The _katana_ style blade glowed emerald green rather than aqua fire like his original. The sword was gifted by an Alit'aren named Ekellen, who was then forced to wield a blade of simply forged steel, due to the lack of enchanted blades available. Adem was appreciative of the sacrifice. Jean wielded a dark Lukrorian Bow, capable of wielding arrows of Hellfire as well as an enchanted blade at her waist that glowed bright amber.

The important fact was that Adem had been able to bond Arawn with his new sword as a Resting Point. Jean was able to coerce Tanriel to also join with her bow via the _kigare_. Already the two Battle Angels had recovered some of their old abilities while being joined to the spirits of the Water Dragon and the Snow Fox. Dis Pater and Math Mathonwy were housed within Resting Point weapons owned by Carl and Wil. They would have some increased capacity to protect the Saviours once unleashed, though Adem thought it better to allow them to rest until it became vital to implement such powers.

They marched from the tent to see the chaos of battle unfold. Alit'aren and Ael Tarael fought with hundreds of Souljhin. In most cases dozens of the Forsaken fighters surrounded one or two Souljhin. Dark cloaks and blood red blades glowing in the night. Agnars sought a moment to intercept the expert defences of the Swordsmen of the Shadow.

In other parts of the camp it was a Souljhin for every two men or women. The battle moving with speeds that blurred to the eyes as warriors used the sword forms for attack and defence. Mostly defending their ground as they waited for reinforcements to surround their attacker. Others were already wielding Jinn-Magic to assist their own survival and to uphold their honour in the face of defeat. Dark blood-red energies were hurled at the Souljhin riders that thundered through camp with blades swinging to cut down distracted swordsmen with backs turned. Souljhin were thrown from horseback under the assault of Jinn-Magic. Others showed immunity to its effects, similar to their resistance to Angel-Magic. Even if blasts of Hellfire were enough to dismount a rider, the energies were not sufficient to seriously wound the assassins. They regained their feet with blades swinging in circles like red adders as dark garbed warriors fought back: trying to keep out of reach of Jinn-Magic steel. Then there were moments when a Souljhin faltered in its sword forms. At that moment a host of Forsaken moved in with swift hacking motions to cut the creature into bleeding chunks!

These images flashed before Adem's eyes in the moments he emerged from the tent. Both Adem and Jean began to wield Jinn-Magic to try to create some order within chaos. Adem targeted the riders first, their horses were a substantial nuisance while charging through camp. He cut down those he could see with Golden Soldiers, over thirty of the robotic Golden Samurai looking Wardens. Rising from the soil to slice through the legs and bodies of Shadow Horses with glowing red _katana_. Horses buckled and collapsed as the beams of light tore through their flesh. Riders falling by the dozen all over camp. Alit'aren and Ael Tarael moved in to stab and strike at the fallen Souljhin before they could recover.

Adem's lasers required neither Jinn-Magic nor Angel-Magic, It was simply his matter manipulation that drained some of his _ki'mera_ stores but was a Magic all of its own. Even Shadow Horses provided some _ki'mera_ orbs that flowed to Adem's form to replenish his already spent stores of demon souls. _Ki'mera_ also charged up the ability of his Battle Angel. Arawn began to grow and glow within Adem's mind as his Resting Point became stronger and more powerful with every soul. At the same time Adem launched Hellfire Javelins to strike through the chests of more Souljhin fighting on the ground. Javelins falling from the skies on an angle to pierce through the dark and often impenetrable armour. Hellfire combined with the laser light of matter manipulation that was more effective at wounding or slowing down his enemies.

Jean created a unique style of Spirit Warden via Jinn-Magic. Forty Hellfire Angels wielding Flame Spears. They fought in a new style, soaring on red wings to strike blows horizontally along the battleground as they moved in flashes of crimson. Slicing through Souljhin bodies in similar style to a Battle Angel air attack. Other times Jean's Spirit Wardens fought in stylised spear forms against one of the Shadow Swordsmen to distract the creature. While Alit'aren blades and Ael Tarael spears punched through the back, legs, arms and neck of the demon-men. Blades cutting precise points as blood sprayed in darkness. The enemy began to fall in greater numbers.

Shienden would be of little use in this battle, as the enemy were already infiltrating the heart of their defences. Dragon-Flame would wipe out more of his own warriors than the enemy if he summoned the dragon to attack. Despite this he used his mind to order Shienden to fly around the camp and scout for any further signs of demon ambush. If he found any, he was ordered to wipe them out with Dragon-Flame and unrestrained rage! He heard the roar of the massive lizard creature as he soared through the dark clouded skies in search of prey. He caught no sign of the great wings or sweeping tail, despite being able to sense his approximate location.

Suddenly an intense lightning-bolt fell from the sky. Red flames bubbled from the earth within the circle surrounding the strike. Adem watched in horror at the return of Balor, seeming taller than the last time they saw him. In crimson armour and wielding that glowing red battle axe. Another shock was the crimson wings that flamed on either side of the Shadow Angel's form. Balor soared into the sky at the same moment that Jean shouted, 'Tanriel!'

Balor hurled a crimson bolt at Adem and Jean. Adem shouted, 'Arawn!' Tanriel's Shield-Domes locked down around them to block the bolt that struck like a burning red claw. The bolts shuddered down the sides of the Shield-Spells. Clutching dark garbed Forsaken: warriors dying in blasts of flames and ashes.

Tanriel stood beside Jean with Arawn to Adem's right. The two Battle Angels still not showing any ability of flight as they raised their crimson weapons. Sword and Flame Spear shining with a hint of newly achieved power. Another bolt flew from Balor in the sky. Tearing through the heart of the camp to rupture into walls of flame: scorching hundreds of warriors crying out in agony and dishonour. The next attack was Shield-Blocked by Tanriel. Arawn raised his sword to unleash a bar of red flame that struck the red winged figure of Balor amongst the black clouds above.

To Adem's delight the strike had some effect. Balor staggered mid-air before plummeting back to earth: striking ground with a loud _thud_. Fire burst around his point of impact. Forsaken and Souljhin falling in sprays of blood and blasted limbs. Suddenly Carl and Wil were by his side as they cried out the names, 'Dis Pater!' and 'Math Mathonwy!'

Balor regained his feet as Dis Pater surged forwards. Tall, dark and thick muscled, his golden axe struck down upon the helmet of his opponent. Red and gold sparks flew in jagged bolts as the two locked blades! Math Mathonwy appeared behind Balor. Planting Hellfire Spear into the blood-red armour of the Shadow Angel. Flames erupted from Balor's form, blasting Math and Dis Pater flying! Blazing red and golden wings flared behind them to restrain their flight: set them back on solid ground. The wings vanished a moment later. Forging with the light of their weapons. Seeing them at all gave Adem some sense of hope!

Tanriel leapt over ten feet high as her Flame Spear sizzled with blue lightning. She hurled the weapon on a downwards angle: striking ground in a blast of energies at Balor's feet. Aqua conflagrations surged around the Shadow Angel's form, yet this seemed to simply ignite Balor's rage. Shadow Wolves appeared out of thin air! At least a hundred of the beasts standing almost as tall as Math's Shadow Hounds. Balor's Wardens immediately began to tear down Forsaken warriors in their path. Crushing flesh and bone in powerful jaws or shredding through armour with razor sharp claws.

At the same moment, Adem felt the four Battle Angels form a Link. Lightning flared in the sky! Horizontal flares of emerald, aqua, crimson and gold: winding through the clouds like arms of Ancient Angered Gods! It was not the more impressive vertical lightning storm amidst a grey vortex, but Adem sensed the emotions of his companions more clearly as that lightning began to pulse. He also sensed a growth in the strength of his Battle Angel. His Brothers and Sister. Balor was about to be seriously outmatched!

Shadow Hounds appeared from the form of Math Mathonwy, at least two dozen of the massive dark-skinned beasts. Dozens of Arawn's Lions appeared. Charging to do battle with the closest of Balor's Wolves. Others formed a protective circle around Adem and his companions. Wardens against the threat of more Wolves that made it past their defences. Tanriel leapt over thirty feet into the sky. Hurling a Flame Spear that split to become thirty crimson shafts: piercing Souljhin armour with precision. Red lightning burst from the weapons, vaporized flesh: glowing bones collapsing in piles!

She hurled another strike from that height. A hundred Flame Spears took down the remaining bulk of Souljhin still fighting within the camp, as well as nearly half the Shadow Wolves that had been causing bloodshed on a massive scale up to that point. Dis Pater, Math and Arawn charged Balor from three sides. Their weapons striking the Shadow Angel in unison as brilliant burning lights flared. Lightning erupting as the flames tore into the skies.

When the flames subsided, Balor was seen returning to the earth in a pit of golden-orange flames. Bubbling magma flowing then receding to a glowing red circle. A scattering of Souljhin remained standing that were rushed by dozens of Forsaken Agnars. Slicing through flesh and bone. Shadow Swordsmen fell under the weight of newly found courage and restored honour. There would be no shame amongst them to be so greatly defended by the Saviours and their Battle Angels. So desperate an act by the Shadow had to be met with equal force, and although these warriors would have won this battle if it was left up to their honour, it would have cost more lives than Adem was willing to accept.

_So, it is true then,_ Adem thought in grim reluctance. _I have to kill Balor and will likely have to face other Shadow Angels in the grip of madness and evil intent._

He heard Arawn reply to his mind, and he gazed across at the shadow cloaked form of his Battle Angel as Arawn stared back. Human eyes, a pale face, dark beard and moustache with mask removed. He too appeared a little taller than the first time Adem had seen him appear in this Age. Was the strength of spirit of the Saviours restoring the Battle Angels to their former Powers? _You may have to face us all in battle someday, Son of Odin. To see our Brother corrupted so is a pain to our hearts, yet in time, we may all fall victim to the curse of the High-Jinn. Know that if it becomes necessary for you to take my life, I will consider it an honour if you would stop me from doing harm against the innocent and against warriors that serve the All-Father._

_But know this also, the strength of the Battle Angels is not entirely lost, and you will face a great challenge to attempt to undo any one of us, let alone us all._ Adem watched as red flames glowed within the dark eyes of his Battle Angel at those final words. He sent his brief reply. _I acknowledge and thank you for your wise counsel. I truly hope that day never comes to pass._

Arawn sent a final message before returning to Adem's blade. _I cannot guarantee that fate will be considerate of such hopes, Son of Odin._

***

Rayne Dragon-Sword, son of Pendral and grandson of Adem Highlander, walked slowly through the hallways of a large manor house: two Aldebrands flanking his strides. They were preparing to leave for the biggest confrontation he would ever face. A battle against demons in the hundreds of thousands along the High Wall of the Green Border. Most of his forces were already gathering along the Border, but Rayne had taken time out to rest and recover from another battle not long past, where he suffered serious wounds that required the expert Healing-Magic of a gifted Ael Tarael.

Rayne carried his grandfather's blue Lukrorian Bow and blue glowing blade sheathed at his belt. Wearing dark armour similar to the Forsaken, studded with _elykrario_ crystals to absorb the energies of Jinn-Magic. Rayne had been forced to wield that cursed form of Angel-Magic many times during his battles against the Shadow. He knew there would be more times when it was necessary, so he equipped himself in the best ways possible.

He had not seen his father Pendral for decades. But the two of them had formed a special bond once reunited, when his father emerged from hiding from the world, as he had done for most of Rayne's early life. His father was a dangerous man. The corruption on Angel-Magic flowed through him and seemed to emanate from his very soul as if he drank cups of Jinn-Magic with his morning coffee. Over the years Rayne noticed the serious changes in his father's temperament. As if the Jinn-Lord was closing his grip on Pendral's resistance. Rayne had to trust the man, however. Pendral was formerly the only great power in the world capable of standing against Jinn-Fendinn, Rayne now being considered worldwide as being the second.

Rayne had many of the Children of Odin gathered at the manor. He kept those he had recruited closest to him at all times. Most of them now guarding hallways that he passed through. Or watching the fields around the manor from the porch, balconies or rooftop. He was stopped in sudden surprise when the one Child of Odin he had specifically sent away from him was seen crossing the hallway ahead of him. Rievenna stopped mid-way, turned to face him, with another man in a hooded robe moving up beside her as they approached him at an even pace.

'Rievenna, what are you doing here?'

'There's not much time to explain, Lord Dragon-Sword.' Rievenna replied in a calm tone, though Rayne immediately also noted the strain on her face, a deep sadness that seemed to make her tremble with anxiety. It was then that he realised the identity of her companion. The man looking up from his hood to expose the face of one of Elarja RinHannen's clever disguises of Illusion-Magic. 'We must speak with you alone, Highlander.' Elarja said in a slightly altered tone from his actual voice. The family name Highlander was also something rarely used by anyone when addressing Rayne. Dragon-Sword was his title, for his link to the great dragon Shienden, that currently flew through the clouds above the manor house. As well as the power that flowed through the veins of the son and grandson of Adem Highlander.

Rayne sent the guards away and was about to offer a room to talk when Elarja clutched Rayne by the wrist and said, 'You must come with us, now!'

Rayne felt caution creep over him, as he insisted, 'Show me your true face, so that I may know that I can trust your words.' A twist of the Illusion-Magic revealed Elarja's emerald eyes and dark hair beneath the cowl, as the man hunched over him whispering, 'Your mission is now over! I have seen the future, and it is bad. I cannot disclose all knowledge at this point in time. But know that if you go to meet your father, you will surely die. I come to you now to alter events of the past. I am not the Elarja you know from this time. I have journeyed much longer throughout time. Into the distant time known as the real present, and even to the future beyond then.

'Few could understand this as you do, Rayne, but I must at this point insist on the urgency to take you away from your fate. This battle that you plan to go to, will be known as the Fall of Rayne. You will not succeed in your aims. You will fail badly. Up until a recent journey to the future I have seen no reason to intervene in this sad part of history, and your beloved Rievenna has been loath to exist without you by her side all of that time.

'I offer you now a chance to live on past your own fated demise. You will join me and assist me to solve a number of riddles that may bring about victory in the Ragnarök Battle, where you will likely get to meet your grandfather. I cannot tell you more, but you must come with me now.

'It is a matter upon which the fate of the world is reliant.'

Rayne was dumbfounded by Elarja's words. He looked to Rievenna to see the truth in her eyes when Elarja told of Rayne's death. His need was to try anyway. To do all he could in this battle to hold back the demons with everything he was capable of, but he understood now that it was also futile.

'Are you telling me my father will betray me?'

'There is no time for such talk! But yes, your father has fallen under the Will of the Shadow! I cannot alter those events. Much as I may wish to. My hope is that by saving you we may create a great enough shift in the timeline to dramatically change the path of fate.'

'What will befall my people who march to this battle in my stead?'

'I dread to think how many lives may be lost by this decision, Rayne. I have weighed the risk against need. It must be this way!'

'Can I bring Shienden?'

'No!' Elarja snapped. 'His place is here. He will still fight on the Green Border and play his part. If you wish for companions, you may bring seven of your Children of Odin. No more than seven! But be quick about it!'

Rayne was then leading his two closest friends down the hallways to search out those seven who he considered to be of greatest value. Today he had learnt that he was about to die, and today he also knew that he was going to live. The thing that disturbed him most were words Elarja had spoken long ago about making changes such as this. About the fact that Calliach the Angel of Death would be hunting him forever after, throughout time, and throughout space. Death would never stop hunting his prey.

Chapter 8

Time to Decide

Jean marched into the meeting hall where Tarz and his advisors were gathered. Adem, Carl and Wil followed close behind, the four of them spreading across the open doorway of the hall. Tarz locked eyes with Adem, then Jean. She saw the caution in those eyes, despite the stone-faced visage typical of Alit'aren. She also saw the extent of wielding Jinn-Magic for the last thousand years. Evident in Tarz's eyes like crackling dark menace. Strained lines that formed across his brow despite his efforts to remain calm.

Corruption was eating away at their very souls. They struggled with it every day to contain the evil that grew in the darkness of their hearts. It was evident in the eyes and expressions of every Alit'aren in the room. There were no Ael Tarael present, predictably sexist of Tarz. Perhaps also a method of avoiding the topic of Jean's old promise. Retribution for the murder of female wielders at the dawn of the Age.

Tarz and his men gave deep bows, Tarz speaking first, saying, 'Welcome, Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor. It has been long since your departure from our world. You have been sorely missed. Let me be the first to say, that the changes to our culture during the last millennium has always been judged necessary. Even when making choices that may have conflicted with the Law of the Saviours.' Jean resisted a grin at that confession. Evidently Tarz was seeking to appease her with an early admission of guilt on his part and that of his people. Yet in truth, every wielder across the Free Lands was guilty of breaking either her original decree, or that of outlawing studies in the Jinn Arts. If she were to inflict punishment, and still be truly just in her ruling, she would need to punish the entire world of both male and female wielders to enforce justice while saving face at the same time. She grimaced at the very idea.

'Lord Tarz, you have no doubt read the new decree?' Jean asked.

'I have studied it in detail, Snow Fox,' Tarz replied, no doubt using her 'Fox' title to emphasize his awareness of sly traps hidden within her decree. And there were traps there, many hiding in plain sight, but that was not the real reason for making Tarz Captain General Commander of her Snow Fox Army. The real reason was because she saw no other option but to recruit the most formidable force in the entire Free Lands. The Forsaken were potentially unstoppable. She would use that to her every advantage to bring peace and unite her armies to prepare for the Ragnarök Battle.

Adem stood there with an anxious expression until Tarz offered them all a seat. Adem seemed to feel the weight of his authority being swept out from under him by Jean's decree. That was of course, another reason she had chosen Tarz. Because the man would've posed as a lap dog for Adem, when in fact Tarz would've worked his manipulations against the Sons of Odin and their ruling at every possible moment of perceived doubt or weakness. Jean would not let that happen. She would keep Tarz on a tight leash!

When they were seated around the large polished wood meeting table, Jean began to converse with Tarz about all manner of relevant issues. Weaponry, war machines, supplies throughout the Green Border. Horses, grain and animal stock for surviving harsh winters. She pressed him for every detail to better understand the situation they faced. She was not surprised that Tarz was so well prepared for war and famine. She already knew of his wealth and also knew he was a calculating ruler with a strong sense of obligation and honour. The question that kept bugging her was whether he truly served the All-Father, or that he might in fact be a Shadow Wolf leading lambs to the slaughter.

When Jean had finished her interrogation, Adem began his questions. He asked Tarz about the Jinn Arts, the loss of Angel-Magic in the last three years and the fading Magic of the Great Angels. Tarz's explanations were insightful, yet he had no grounded theories on how Angel-Magic itself could be withheld from the grasp of every wielder in the Free Lands. 'Even the Jinn-Lord would find it difficult to restrict such immense forces from our reach,' he said. 'Although he succeeds to siphon away the strength of the Battle Angels and use it towards his escape from Kerak'Otozi, I do not see how he could use that strength to wipe out our contact with Angel-Magic.'

'He has obviously grown very strong via this theft of Great Angel Magic,' Carl offered. 'Do you not suppose that his growing corruption over the male and female halves of Angel-Magic could support his efforts to restrict wielding entirely?'

'That seems the only likely explanation,' Tarz admitted, 'yet as I already explained, it would be like Jinn-Fendinn reaching out to tear down the moon and the stars. It would require such vast stores of Angel-Magic and Jinn-Magic, that if Jinn-Fendinn were solely responsible, he would already be free from his prison and would be waging war against the Lord God within the Heavens. It would mean the end of time and space, the end of everything.' Jean noted that Tarz was surprisingly calm while explaining this matter, though she gave him the benefit of the doubt, that perhaps he was calm because he did not believe it was possible, yet.

'These patrols you send to the East Lands,' Jean began a new tactic. 'How can you send _sei'vani_ women and children into those lands? Even in such large camps surrounded by warrior men and women?'

'The Forsaken are a proud and hardened people,' Tarz replied. 'I could not order them to leave their families and servants behind. The _sei'vani_ and the children would refuse to be separated from their kin and would lose honour to not be allowed to face the harshness of those lands. Know that it has been this way for over nine hundred years.

'The blood of the Forsaken has grown rich against the decay and thirst of the East Lands, their flesh has grown hard in those barren wastes. They have become almost invincible warriors in their constant combat with the demons of that place. You must first understand our honour and its place in our society before you may judge me or my advisors for allowing such practices.

'Secondly, the camps and their scouting missions are necessary to maintain the safety of the Green Border and the entire Free Land peoples. Those massive forces of Forsaken warriors often also go on raids against the demon armies of those lands. Striking hard against the growing numbers of enemy hordes, greatly reducing their number, sometimes wiping out entire legions.

'Again, this is a matter of great importance in accordance with the honour of my people. They would not have it any other way.'

'The scouting party that rescued us was only three hundred riders strong,' Jean rebuffed his claims with a flash of pearl white teeth. 'Surely that is stretching their honour too far, that they might become a sacrifice for ravenous demons. How can you justify sending such small parties so close to Kerak'Otozi? If they were surrounded, they would be helpless against a sizable demon horde, and that region must be crawling with them!'

'Three hundred Forsaken warriors are far from helpless,' Tarz replied with a hard-dark eyed stare.

'Yet our rescue party was barely able to escape the traps of the Rahkwel that herded us within the Goblin City!' Jean was close to shouting. 'If not for Shienden and the limited abilities of our Battle Angels, all would have perished. Not to mention the lives we _did_ lose!'

'They died with great honour to protect the Saviours,' Tarz said with restrained agitation. 'Furthermore, your rescue party was pursued with such vigour most likely because Jinn-Fendinn was aware of your presence. Whatever schemes He has in wait for the Sons and Daughter, He would seek to take the four of you out of the picture if he had the chance.' Jean's countenance must have flickered with stunned caution at the certainty of Tarz's claims. It could almost be suggested that Tarz had intimate understanding of Jinn-Fendinn and his plans, but she would not accuse him here and now. She would bide her time, wait for the right moment to strike.

Then it was Adem's turn to ask a question again, and Jean knew only too well what it would be. 'What of Isabelle, and my son?'

Tarz's visage showed the strain of old memories as he paused a moment, then shook his head silently. A sign that one or both of them were no more. 'I'm sorry, Adem Highlander,' were the words that finally came from his lips.

'No!' Adem shouted. 'Isabelle? —and my only son? Are you telling me they are both dead?'

'It is an old tale of great woe,' Tarz said with a grim expression. 'Your son, Pendral, fathered a boy Rayne, before he was ... lost to us. Pendral and Rayne were great Warriors of the All-Father during their lifetimes. But Rayne also has not been heard of for over three hundred years. There are theories of what might have happened to him, no one knows for certain. But Pendral's fate is well known. He serves now as the High-Seat of the Jinn-Lord. He is called Koriken Demonfist, and he is the Lord General of the High-Servants.'

'No! It can't be!' Adem shouted in the grip of a mad struggle with his emotions. 'How could you let this happen?'

'Events were far beyond my control when I became aware of them,' Tarz said. 'Know that both Pendral and Rayne were close friends of mine when they still lived as Servants of the All-Father. I held them both in the highest regard for their incredible strength in _teron_.'

'So, what happened to Isabelle? She was an Immortal Princess! She should still be here, alive and well, fit and strong! Tell me what happened?'

'No one knows for certain who was responsible,' Tarz said with unease. 'Many believe it was Pendral himself who drove the dagger through her heart. This was about the same time that Pendral became lost to the grip of the Shadow. Others suggest the murderer was another assassin, and that this discovery was what finally drove Pendral over the edge.'

'Isabelle!' Adem screamed in pain and outrage. 'No! No, I will not allow it!'

'It is long in the past, Lord Highlander,' Tarz insisted. 'There is nothing that can be done about it.'

'Oh, yes there is!' Adem snapped in cold fury. 'Where is Elarja RinHannen? I want to speak with him, now!'

'Lord Elarja has not been seen for centuries,' Tarz replied. 'He has returned to his duty of travelling the timelines, seeking out evidence of the future and the past. No one knows where or when he will return. I'm sorry, Adem Highlander. I did my very best to protect them.' The strange thing was, Jean felt she could read absolute truth in Tarz and his sympathetic words.

Later Jean was alone with Adem in their bedchamber within the High Wall Palace. Adem had been weeping miserably in anguish and turmoil for over an hour. She had been there to hold and comfort him throughout that time as a warm fire crackled on the hearth. When he seemed complete in his initial mourning process, Jean watched his anger return as he spoke again of using Elarja to rescue the princess.

'It is futile, Adem!' Jean insisted. 'Do you really love her that much? Would you dare to try to keep her safe from the clutches of Calliach? Hunting her like wild game throughout the Ages, just to see her face one more time?'

'It's my fault, Jean! She wouldn't have died if I had still been here. Or perhaps if I had just never gotten involved with her, never fathered Pendral, none of this would have occurred. She would at least still be alive then, Jean. I can't live with that guilt! More than that, I am in terrible pain! Even though I love you as my wife and mother of our beautiful daughter, there was always a part of me that still felt a very strong attachment to Isabelle.

'Yes, if you must know, I still love her. I don't think I can remain sane for long without her being alive and by my side.'

Jean had been standing over him with arms crossed under her breasts when she heard those words—no longer wearing her armour and dressed in a white coat and short skirt with black stockings and white knee-high boots—but her legs had nearly given way at the shock of Adem's confession. Despite always knowing the truth of those words in her own heart, she had not been prepared to hear them spoken from his lips. She eased back down beside him on the bedcovers as the absurdity of his words washed over her. Drowning her in waves of burning agony.

Finally, she said, 'After all our years of marriage, all the love we have shared, you've never forgotten her? I had hoped you had put those feelings aside. I can't explain the pain I'm feeling right now, Adem. It hurts to even look at you!' Adem groaned and turned to place a soothing hand on her shoulder, but she slipped away from his grasp. Standing again to pace the room as she gathered her wits in an attempt to talk him out of this insane plan of his. 'If you do this, Adem, it will be a greater threat to our marriage than the first time you betrayed me with her! You have to let go! I can understand that you are in shock and turmoil, perhaps your rage is turning you a little mad, but you have got to focus on our daughter! She needs us!

'Sometimes you have to accept that you can't change the past, even when you have the means to. Janeanne is still alive, she's still out there, and if you don't forget this crazy scheme and follow me to be at our daughter's side ... I don't know what will happen to us, Adem.

'I think I might even demand a divorce.'

'I'm not sure if divorce is legal here,' Adem said with a disturbed grin, though she felt his pain distinctly through the _kigare_. She knew those words filled him with greater fear and agony than even the loss of Isabelle.

'That is in no way amusing!' Jean snapped in reply. 'And I make the rules in this world. If I want a divorce, I will change the law to make it legal!'

'Of course, Jean, I know you would.' Adem was suddenly cold in his heart, that familiar flame of Jinn-Magic burning around the chunk of ice in his chest. His madness was returning. 'Why don't you invent a new decree to outlaw rescuing dead Heroes from the past, too?'

'That is a fine idea, Adem!' Jean shouted, then softened her tones to say, 'But I will not interfere in what you think is most important to you. Whatever the risks you will still do what matters most. Why not rescue Pendral before he became corrupted, and your grandson Rayne, too? We can bring your entire illegitimate family back to life and spend all of our days running from the spectre of Death that hunts us day and night! Why not rewrite the entire history of this world while you're at it? Make the sun the moon and the skies the ocean, fish that fly and birds that swim, day becomes night and forever into never!

'Such things should not be meddled with. You are a selfish foolish man! I will be sleeping in different quarters until we depart to meet Janeanne. I will let you sit and have time to decide whether you will follow me, or whether our paths will split now and for all eternity!' Tears welled in her eyes. Her vision became a blur as she wiped them clear and turned to march for the door, slamming it behind her as she left the room. The Aldebrands posted at the door gave her stunned but unreadable faces, two of them falling in on her flanks to follow her along the hallways. If Adem could not see sense after such words were spoken, she guessed Jinn-Magic was making him more insane than he had ever been before. She would not stand by and watch him fall into ruin. She would save her daughter, and they would find a way to mend this world of chaos. With or without the Sons of Odin.

Chapter 9

Rayne Dragon-Sword

Elarja watched the dome of pure light and colours flare and bulge around him and his companions. He felt the familiar shift through space and time that was felt by his wielding of the Time Stones more than the others. Rayne and his seven chosen Children of Odin added to their campaign. Lately during that shift Elarja had felt light-headed. Unbalanced. Unclean even. He guessed it was the corruption on _teron_. Though when the sphere of light dissipated, he sensed Angel-Magic was purified in this ancient Age.

He was not certain where he had to travel to in time exactly. But he knew it was in the past. He had a particular date set in mind when he created the Time Sphere. Though when the clear blue skies opened above him and his warriors, he knew the Time Stones had taken him much further back than he had wished.

He stood in the courtyard of the first Kingdom of the Nordics. The city where his father Rodin Cloud-Walker ruled as King of the First Bloods. He cursed under his breath as he heard the sound of his father's dragon Ellanori roaring overhead. A tremendous rumbling resonance of an ancient and powerful creature that made the earth vibrate. The company looked skywards to see the massive beast of golden scales: blood-red wings and ebony claws. Circling the courtyard for a landing. There was no time to escape. His father had seen him from the saddle of the dragon. Waving his spear of aqua lightning as a blue bolt struck the heavens. Thunder filled the air.

The city itself was of a scale and grandeur that must have been a wonder to the eyes of his companions. The walls of the main Keep were pale silver rising in columns mounted against one another like some ice-sculpture masterpiece. Square, rectangular and wide cylindrical walls and fortifications stacked side by side and arranged with beauty and precision as the fortress rose into the air on many levels. Golden domed cylindrical or pointed blue roofed rectangular towers. Walkways, staircases of marble and stone, parapets, balconies and bridges between towers shining brilliant white in the sunlight. With a broader base of layered white stone running for miles around this courtyard area that was part of the Royal Palace Upper North Bailey. Walls of smooth white stone standing higher than even the engineers of the modern age could accomplish. The great city of Evandhelorin was forged with Angel-Magic during this Age of might and wisdom, the Age of Immortals. Also known as the Age of the First Bloods, or the First Age, though the history of this world dated back billions of years before Immortal Kin first walked the earth.

Creation took a long time, even for the Great Angels working under the tutelage of the Lord God. Some say the Lord could have crafted it all in a week, or a single day, if he wished. But others suggested the formation of life from its base forms into more complex and sophisticated beings, was the path God chose because it created a world that was more solid, stable. With foundations that would be extremely difficult to dismantle, compared to constructs formed purely of Elemental Magic. Others suggested this base form of life was what contained the first essence of spirituality, and that this path taken by the Lord was perhaps the only way to ensure a stable environment while also creating life within every creature that ever sprung up out of the muck. The Old Nordic name for the Lord was Tu'Atha'Valori'Faeden. The Aesir were the Great Angels. Aelfin were Elves. All carried the Spirit of the Lord, or the Might of the Tu'Valoris. This word meant Essence of Life, or Creation's Source.

Guards in golden Elven cuirass, pauldrons, gauntlets and greaves were standing along the landing strip, with Lightning-Spears raised high and Pulse-Shields of metallic green and gold. These Immortal Kin were taller than Elarja, being born of the First Bloods, though none would have been a match for Elarja in single combat.

They paid little attention to Elarja and his companions on arrival. This was a time when Elarja's reputation as a Time Strider was well known amongst his people. Although his companions were strangers to this Age, any friend of Elarja's would be welcome amongst the First Clan.

Elarja had allowed his disguise to dissipate immediately after making the journey through time to this place, as he had expected to travel only a few thousand years into the past. Around one thousand years before the First Arrival of the Sons of Odin to Kismeria. Instead he had journeyed millions of years into the past. Almost to the Dawn of Immortals. From his surroundings he guessed the date to be some eleven thousand years after the rise of the First Clan. The Stones had brought him here, and he wondered now if the Stones themselves had a greater purpose for which they were guiding him against his will.

The shadow of Ellanori swept over their forms as the air of his massive wings rushed over them. The creature roared again upon landing. Hot air rushed over Elarja's face that was the breath of an enormous fire breathing reptile. Guards rushed to the side of the beast to await the descent of Rodin. He threw down a golden ladder of rope fibres and wooden footholds.

Elarja greeted his father with fist to breastplate. Feeling a rush of emotions to see the man in the flesh after so long. Rodin scanned Elarja's face, glancing at his companions before he spoke in a rich and powerful tone. A hint of glee in the warmth of his speech that also showed in his large dark eyes like polished orbs. 'Elarja, my dear son. It has been so long since we last met. I was out scouting the lands for demon sign. You were off on one of your great adventures through time.'

Rodin's eyes gleamed as the man smiled. Long silken-black hair tied at his neck: a fringe falling below his golden crown studded with precious jewels. He wore a grey-blue robe burnished with golden dragons along the neck and hem. A golden dragon belt wrapped about his narrow waistline. His father was handsome, strong and fierce as a Hero of Will. But that ghostly apparition was nothing compared with the solid, graceful, living First Blood of flesh and bone that stood proudly before him. His broad chest and wide muscular frame gave a presence of something stronger than natural forces, and there was nothing really natural about Elves. They were supernatural from the day they were created. Yet Rodin was the First King of the Nordics. His Power was beyond that of any other Elf to ever live.

He planted his Lightning-Spear in the cobble stone as he regarded Elarja with a different expression, as if he did not recognise him. Those penetrating black eyes were filled with such emotion. 'Something has changed about you, my son. The experience I see in your eyes speaks beyond your years. It was only three decades since we last spoke, and now you have returned to me with the wisdom and burdens of Father Time himself. Tell me, Elarja, where have you come from? How many years has it been, in truth?'

'It has been long indeed, my King,' Elarja replied. 'Though the truth of that tale I do not have time to explain. It seems destiny has brought me back to you. I cannot begin to imagine for what purpose it may be.'

'Who are your companions? They seem weakened compared to the blood of Nordics, though I sense some Angel-Magic in all of them. This one in particular has great strength however,' Rodin nodded at Rayne. 'Who is this young man? He is half mortal, that much I can tell, so he is from a long and distant future. Yet he retains so much of the Old Might of our people.'

'May I present Rayne Dragon-Sword,' Elarja said as he clasped Rayne by the shoulder to bring him forward. 'He is the grandson of the Blue Water Dragon, Adem Highlander. One of the three Sons of Odin.'

Elarja watched as a look of terror and disbelief moved across his father's visage, as he asked, 'Will he not bring Jinn-Magic down upon us?'

Elarja quickly replied, 'He carries the curse, but I believe only the true Sons of Odin are able to inflict Jinn-Magic upon _teron_. Therefore, it would be folly to bring any of their kind back in time beyond their first arrival.'

Rodin spoke again to say: 'You have travelled far through time indeed, Elarja, to bring me this figure of hope and doom! The Prophecies never spoke of the Blue Water Dragon having any sons or daughters. His strength in Angel-Magic is unmistakable for any mortal, though I know little of their kind except what you have taught me.' As if suddenly aware that he was rambling, Rodin looked to Rayne again and gave a deep bow, a sign of great respect from the First King. Rodin appeared amused, embarrassed and bewildered all at once. 'Forgive my rudeness, Rayne Dragon-Sword. You and your companions are all most welcome here in my kingdom. I will offer what aid I am able while you remain in my care. Let us feast and discuss what must be done and what may be discovered. Perhaps the Oracle may have a Reading!'

Rayne would perhaps only now be realising that Rodin and Elarja were speaking in the ancient Nordic Tongue, though Rayne's Battle Angel would be interpreting for him so automatically it would take time for Rayne to even realise he was hearing another language. The other Children of Odin would have no idea what they were saying.

Rodin turned on his heel to march towards the steps of the great shining palace. This courtyard surrounded by two hundred feet high stone walls much further out. Before the second wall that surrounded the towns and villages that existed within the city. In this ancient world, demons were widespread throughout the lands. Many of them more powerful than anything that existed in the true present. Most immortal communities were behind stone walls, as in this early Age, the immortal clans were not yet fully formed as they were in later millennia. Most were of the Nordic bloodline, though some had already begun to notice Angel-Magic and Magic of Trees and Forest Angels. The early formations of Wood Kin Clans were emerging at this time. Great Forests of this Age were protected by enchanted stone sentinels. Crafted by the Great Angels, they served as Magic Wards. Making it difficult for demons to cross their borders and enter the Woodland Realms.

In this Age, the Nordics were strongly tied to the nature of Earth and Fire Elemental Magic. Carving their cities and underground dwellings out of the sides of great mountains, with the aid of Angels of Stone like Kohbahl and Cable. This palace was jutting from grey stone cliffs and tree covered mountainsides, rising into the clouded skies. Snow-capped peaks gleaming in the sunlight.

Soon all were making their way through the ancient palace with expressions of pure awe and fascination. Their skill with Fire-Magic made the Nordics well known in later Ages for their strength with wielding lightning flame to vanquish demons. In this early stage of their populating Kismeria, Nordics were an almost unstoppable force when their warriors went to war.

A simplified way to explain would be that the weakest of wielders amongst this Age were at least ten times stronger than most low-level Alit'aren or Ael Tarael of the Age of Chaos. Yet the strongest of Nordic wielders of this ancient time were perhaps a hundred times stronger in _teron_ or _terael_ than their most powerful modern-day descendants. That did not include Rayne and his father Pendral, or the Sons of Odin, as these men were exceptional in Angel-Magic for any Age. Elarja believed this was also related to the theft of Angel-Magic by Jinn-Fendinn. Stealing the Earth Magic from Kismeria, from Earth, Stone and Wood, Water, Fire, Air and Spirit. Weakening the bloodlines of both mortal and immortal generations throughout the Ages. As well as stealing from the Great Angels, that resulted in their diminished forms of the modern day. So much like mortal kind, or perhaps immortal, but still flesh and bone. Fragile. They could bleed, they could die, yet Jinn-Fendinn grew stronger every day.

Elarja was greatly troubled at the prospect of staying here too long. He feared discussing too much with his father. He was afraid of altering the timelines. This far back in history could create changes that could put millions of lives at risk. Most importantly, the lives of the Sons of Odin may be at greater risk if Rodin was not there to defend them as a Hero of Will. In the form of a ghost warrior, as he had done numerous times at the Dawn of the Age of Chaos.

He could not risk informing his father of his inevitable death, and he could not provide any assistance that might allow his father to survive that fateful end. The pressure of that conundrum gnawed away at his chest, bringing anxiety near to panic.

His eyes gazed at the brightly painted walls standing seven times his height as they crossed through hallways of extreme wealth. Tapestries and paintings that would be considered master works in any age, depicting Elves and Demons locked in Eternal Wars. Majestic sculptures of creative genius in gold, silver or marble. Marble statues and busts of Rodin and his Council of Nine. Sons and daughters of the royal family, as well as grand carvings of Odin and the Great Angels. Nordic warriors marched in Elven green-and-gold armour, flowing black Aldebrand cloaks with Bolt-Spears. Emerald metallic shields emblazoned with Rodin's golden dragon Ellanori. Tall, dark of hair with tilted brows and high pointed pixie ears, the light in their eyes spoke of the Ancient Might of the First Bloods and Old Ways Magic. It was bringing back great memories, of his people and his youth. The brief distractions made his anxious pain a little more bearable.

***

Rayne sat alone in his bedchamber of the ancient palace of the Nordics. The room was pale stone with a white marble hearth, a warm fire and elaborate furnishings. He noted the dragon carved chairs and table, as well as the dragon headboard on his four posted bed with blue drapery. That was no coincidence. He had become accustomed to being treated as something special long ago however, despite being raised as a very poor boy in the city of Valmeron. Working at washing dishes in the royal kitchens, making beds and sweeping floors, or running errands for the stableboys in the Royal Courtyard and Stables.

Sometimes he missed the simplicity of his former life, in a great kingdom where he was servant if not slave to the ruler of those lands. In those days nobody would look at him in awe or swear oaths of fealty and honour in his name. No one swore to be his protector or to serve his cause until death. And those deaths had piled up over the years. He had felt the grimness of every life that was sacrificed in his name. Men and women fighting the Shadow in service to Rayne Dragon-Sword. That great change in his destiny began when he was spotted by Orion Demon-Slayer and Elmira Golden-Braid, at a royal banquet in Valmeron when he had just turned eighteen. Soon after he was to learn of his lineage, that he was the son of the greatest mortal Alit'aren of the Age of Chaos, and the grandson of Adem Highlander, the Blue Water Dragon and leader of the Sons of Odin.

He remembered the first time he had met Rievenna at a small village at an inn that he could not recall the name of, but he could not forget that first meeting of the woman he would grow to love with all his heart. Rievenna was quick to divulge that she too was a Child of Odin, born on the night of the lightning storm of Odin's Return. Back then Rayne had been on the run with his three closest friends. All boys from Valmeron that he had grown up with, all swept into the path of his fate. He wished those young men were with him here now also, but they had not been with him at the manor when Elarja arrived, and so they would go to battle against the demon hordes and possibly become new names on the list of dead he was responsible for.

Two of those friends had also been Children of Odin, born with special abilities to aid in the fight against evil. The other had been the Court Jester of Valmeron, Ragan Lodensare, who became known as the Red Jackal for his cunning at war strategy. Being Court Jester had allowed him to observe the battle plans of some of the greatest captains and generals of Valmeron. He was quick to learn and use such knowledge to great advantage on his journeys with Rayne.

He sat on a blue cushioned couch in front of the fire thinking of his friends when a knock came at the door. He called to ask who it was, and when Rievenna's voice called in reply, he told the guards to let her enter. Rievenna was considerably short for Nordic blood, with brilliant golden hair tied in a thick braid that fell past her shoulder blades. This evening she wore a blue silk gown that clung to the curves of her breasts and hips. Her slender form moving seductively towards him as Rayne swallowed a hard lump in his throat. She had of course turned to lock the door before she made her way over to his chair.

Looking down at him with sparkling blue eyes, she took his hands and guided him to his feet, then kissed him with such passion he thought he might collapse! Emotions rushed through his chest; his heart suddenly aflame as he kissed her back. They gazed at one another; her breath smelled clean and was cool against his neck as she said, 'I cannot take the chance of losing you again, dearly beloved. You will do your best here and now to give me something to remember you by.' A warm smile touched her lips. Perfect pearl white teeth flaring before she whispered, 'You will give me a child.'

Those were not words Rayne felt he could easily refuse! Soon they were making their way to the bed. Unbuttoning clothing amidst more passionate kisses. This was not the first time they had encountered one another in this way. Soon the familiarity of their memories with one another brought the confusion into a kind of harmony, lasting hours as the fire burned down to ashes and hot coals. He had never felt as alive as he did when he was with Rievenna, the two of them alone sharing their love despite the death and chaos that had plagued their lives since their first meeting. He hoped he had provided what she wished for. A child to remember him by.

As he lay under the silk sheets in the hour's past midnight, he listened to her soft breathing with a sense of elation and glee. Feeling the warmth of their love fill his heart with vibrancy and delight. Soon sleep took him also however, and he found himself grappling with the stress of his situation. Knowing that Death would be hunting him before long ...

... He stood in a hallway of pale grey light. Seeping from the stone floor and walls, emanating the ghostly apparitions of men and women who had died for his cause. He then realised they were corpses. Piled against one another, the piles growing thicker as he tried to make his way through the hall. Tripping him, making him twist and turn. Until he thought he might have to climb over the bodies they were piled so high ... He wanted to weep over their sacrifices. His chest burned with pain to see their eyes glowing with the sadness of the damned. Cold dead eyes, though they shone with such emotion. Pain, fury, outrage over their own demise. They seemed to shout out to him from across a deep and endless chasm, 'Avenge us, Rayne! Avenge our deaths!' ... No! They would not be in this place! They had served the All-Father and so they would be with the Creator now ... This was a trick! It was a perversion of truth ... A rat crawled out from under the bodies piled before him. Some of those bodies were men and women he had loved dearly as his Aesir'Eron comrades. Pain stung his chest again. Fury welled up within him as he watched the rat gnaw at the face of one of the corpses. A young mortal Seidr'tera who had died because Rayne had been too daring and careless to save him.

'Away with you! Vile rodent be gone!' Rayne shouted at the creature, and he thought he heard the rat give a series of rasping chuckles in reply. The rat continued to climb atop more bodies. The piles became so high, they nearly touched the arched ceilings over forty feet above. There the rat stood proudly. Even from that height, Rayne noted the eyes of the rodent glowing like hot coals. The rodent was triumphant. The dead were its trophies! The rat began to grow in size, until it was a man-sized shadow in a hooded cloak. Standing proudly atop the corporeal apparitions. The hallway became shadow black stone glowing like red embers along the joins and surfaces. Shadows were pockmarked with crimson light like the eyes of thousands of vermin ... Rayne knew the man that stood cloaked in shadows. 'Father?' He asked in dread and disbelief. The man he saw beneath the dark cowl was near to being crippled with emotions of hatred and menace. He sneered at Rayne with a fierce contempt that immediately informed Rayne that his father Pendral was indeed lost to the Shadow ... 'I was father to you, but that man is no more.' His words were cold fusion crushing his own chest, though they resonated in the air with power that filled Rayne with terror. 'I have come to claim you, son. You know the seduction of the Will of the High-Jinn. It is futile to resist the darkness that grows inside of you. You will submit to the might of the Shadow, or you will die!'

Rayne had regained some of his senses, and his memories. He suddenly wondered how his father could reach his dreams by stretching out across time. Millions of years separated them, yet in the Dream Realm, there was no gap between past and present. Rayne also remembered that he had learnt much about the Dream Realm and how to survive within it. He noted plain dark blue coat and trousers had covered his form, the garb of a servant of Valmeron. Rayne used his abilities of mind and clad his body in dark armour and leathers of the _ghoda'sidhe_ , facing his father in the image of a Forsaken warrior.

Pendral had served alongside the Forsaken for much of his later years. He saw that Pendral despised what he saw in Rayne. A fierce snarl across his lips before he lashed out with waves of crimson. A roaring conflagration like molten stone crashed down around him: scorched Rayne with flaying heat! Rayne formed a barrier with his mind a fraction of a second before the flames touched him. Even here in the Dream Realm, Angel-Magic of his grandfather could be used in a way. He formed a Shield-Sphere of mind and matter manipulation—though in the Dream Realm they were not entirely the same force of nature, though they worked to the same effect—that locked down around him before he created a dimensional Portal-Spell. The doorway of light opened to his right side. He leapt through to vanish from the hallway.

He flew out of the Portal-Magic and landed on a field of grey clouds. How he could stand on clouds, he did not know. He was hundreds of feet high in the air, overlooking a landscape swarming with ancient demons. Massive black and red skinned monsters surging against the white stone walls of Evandhelorin. Shadow Dragons and fire winged Krunloc smote the gates of the city with hot magma flares: Hordes of beasts similar to Boli-Kuldr that were twice as large pushed massive war machines into place. Giant javelins, catapults and other means to break or scale the wall ... Rayne saw a flare of crimson to his left. He turned as Pendral appeared on the clouds some distance ahead. Moonlight flaring above the clouds: lacing everything in a silver glow. Clouds shone like fire, the city reflecting starlight as a beacon of hope. The Shadow forces symbolic of Jinn-Fendinn and his eternal destruction of the Armies of the Light. This battle was not real. Not even in the Dream Realm. But it was a sign of the growing Magic of Jinn-Fendinn, and perhaps a reflection of an attack on the city in a future Age.

Rayne summoned his Battle Angel. Even here in the Dream Realm he had learnt such Angel-Magic. 'Tohka Reiden!' Lightning poured down from the field of clouds. Surging electric bolts of white flame—thousands falling like white trees to strike and erupt into blazing waves of incineration—vaporizing tens of thousands of demons in chaotic blasts! This was far greater power than Tohka Reiden had displayed in the Age where Rayne had been born. Here, the Great Angel was fuelled with the ancient Angel-Magic of his kindred. In this Age, Odin and his Brothers were deadly defiance against the servants of the Jinn-Lord.

Tohka Reiden appeared beside Rayne on the cloud walkway. Rayne drew his blade that glowed now like a sliver of the sun. Tohka Reiden was far taller than he should be. Over thirty feet tall, breastplate of blazing blue with golden gauntlets. Boots burned like blue lanterns. Trousers of pale moonlight. His hair was white flame, spiked around his pointed ears with a short-spiked starlight beard. Eyes of crackling blue lightning.

Reiden raised a fist of white fire, hurling a blue bolt at Pendral. The shadow cloaked figure raising his first to deflect the blast in a sheet of crimson. The two energies locked in combat. Red and blue light pulsed and flared against one another, until the red dominated. Flaring outwards in a great sphere to overpower the light of the Battle Angel!

Rayne watched in shock as Tohka Reiden shrank in size! In moments he was standing only a head height taller than Rayne, as he realised that in the Dream Realm, Pendral was even stronger than a Battle Angel of ancient Angel-Magic! Rayne swung his blade towards his father, a sheet of aqua flame surged towards his form to strike a crimson wall. Pendral faltered, barely keeping his feet against the assault. Reiden's pillars of fire suddenly increased dramatically. The return of strength caused the bolts to burn brighter as Rayne brought his own lightning to add to the killing fields.

He sensed a connection now between the battle against Pendral, and the battle against his demon army. Hundreds of thick pillars of blue flame struck the earth in a pattern of intricate design. Tohka Reiden joined Rayne in a Link as Flame Dragons of blue-white light coursed around the pillars. Surging into the thick of the demon hordes to gorge on blood and flesh. Turning demon flesh to ashes as their Elemental Fire-Magic tore through the enemy ranks.

Rayne summoned a great Flame Dragon that he hurled at Pendral. A blue burning apparition flew towards the shadow figure. Chomping down upon his waning crimson Shield-Sphere. Pendral fell to one knee, raising his hands in an attempt to deflect the Spirit Warden that continued to crush his defences. The serpentine figure of light coiled itself around Pendral's Shield-Spell. Biting with massive jaws and fangs as cracks began to form within the crimson sphere. Rayne and his Battle Angel struck again. Combining their energies to hurl a bar of white-hot flame as thick as Rayne's wrist. It was the summoning of a true Spear of Odin! White fire blasted in all directions once the Spear struck Pendral's defence. The High-Servant wailed in terror and pain as the rupture of white fire surrounded Rayne's vision ... Endless light ... Eternal night ... He fell towards the fields of blight ... Tohka Reiden caught him to hold him tight ... Soaring upwards through eternal night ... He woke and sat upright. In a drenched sweat with heat searing his face and chest, arms and legs. He was in his bed, with Rievenna by his side. A single lantern glowing amber on the side table to tell him it was still in the very early hours of morning.

He realised he must have left the lamp lit before falling asleep. An ancient form of glowbulbs still kept all rooms and hallways of the palace well-lit to defend against Souljhin and other demons invading through the shadows. Even chimneys, air ducts and secret passageways would be filled with the small glowing crystals that gave light for thousands of years. Even in this Age there were Hex-Warlords that could teleport via Portal-Magic to plant Jhin-Taps for Souljhin to invade in swarms.

He struggled to catch his breath, sweating was unusual for him, even when waking from the Dream Realm. It was the inner turmoil of facing his father in battle that brought such physical reactions, he later realised. He had not been ready for that nightmare to begin. He laughed to himself at the absurdity of his fate. Hunted by his father in his dreams by night, and he was soon to become prey to the Angel of Death in his waking hours.

_At least I'm alive_ , he thought gratefully. No one wanted to accept their own deaths. No matter what religion or legends had to say about his eternal destiny. It was all well and good to serve the Lord God in Heaven as an angel or what have you, but what about all the simple pleasures of the physical realm you would have to leave behind? A swim in a cold stream with Rievenna by his side. The feel of her naked skin pressed against him. A warm bath before a hot meal on a winter's day. Or summer sunlight on your face and the taste of fresh fruit picked straight from the branch, the sweet juices dripping from your lips as you bit down into the flesh. What about the pain of walking all day or spending a week in the saddle, to later experience the joy of relaxing in front of the fire to warm your aching bones? He did not want to leave all of that! He hated the very idea of another form of existence. A being of no substance other than thought and feeling, no flesh or bone or blood in his veins. What would you be expected to do all day long? It was terrifying! He _was_ afraid to die, and up until recently, he had been such a being for a very long time!

'Better to be alive,' he whispered. The only thought that gave him some sense of ease was the notion that perhaps Rievenna was carrying his child. He sat back against the pillows and stared at her beauty in the lamp light. Amber light carved out her features with a warm glow against her smooth skin. Every strand of hair caught by the light shining like pure gold. At least he could still feel love in the afterlife. Yet that thought somehow only added to his stress and regret. Orion Demon-Slayer had often told Rayne that his grandfather, Adem Highlander, had never been afraid to die. Adem did not welcome such a fate, but he was fearless in the face of death. His concern apparently was where he would go in the afterlife, his greatest fear was damnation.

Rayne's mind was free of the affliction of Jinn-Magic for the first time since he had learnt to wield, however. In this ancient time there was no corruption on _teron_ or _terael_. Angel-Magic was pure and magnificent. Even in the Dream Realm that lightning in his veins was the most amazing feeling he had ever experienced. It was pure harmony, bliss personified. Magic uncorrupted, glowing in his flesh and bones, heart and soul. A river of light made of sunshine and moonlight, cold rain, warm wind, fresh soil and clean stone. Refined Elemental Magic emanating such strength and wealth of purity. Ecstasy. The emotions he had felt were as if those pillars of lightning had struck him all at once, when in fact he was at the source of that Angel-Magic. _Teron_ flowing through him to become funnelled into weapons of such immense destruction, the wielders of the modern Ages would be astonished to witness it! His emotions were still running wild at the memory of that incredible force. It was like the afterglow of Rievenna's embrace multiplied by infinity!

Even now he was tempted to draw from _teron_ to experience the marvel of that light once more. He resisted, breathing slowly and trying to relax himself as he checked to feel his heart thudding in his chest. He was over excited. He knew enough about the Dream Realm to know the experience he had had while sleeping was somewhat real. Perhaps even more dangerous than the real world in some ways. His father had found a way to reach him over endless space and time. Perhaps a connection of the bloodline, Rayne's spirit being something he could not hide from his father. He would stay here if he had a choice—and raise a family with Rievenna—but Elarja would want to be leaving soon, the moment he worked out why they were here.

He threw back the sheets and carefully slipped out of bed. Making sure not to wake his dearly beloved who continued her slow breathing with the rise and fall of her breast. He returned to the cushioned chair after adding some wood to the fire, some smaller logs on top of twigs from a bronze cauldron in front of the hearth. The coals were still bright enough after stirring the ashes for it to light large chunks of wood in a short while. He took the time to stock the pile with lighter kindling to ensure Rievenna did not wake to a cold room. He unlocked the door and spoke with the guards for a few moments just to be sure that there had been no alarms. Still concerned about his father's potential reach through time, as well as the fear of Calliach. The Nordics assured him all was well. He closed the door to lock it once more.

On the couch, he sat with his sword drawn and laying across his lap. Wearing dark leather trousers and boots over his underclothes. A tan brown woollen shirt covering his arms and back, though he left it unbuttoned to feel the growing warmth of the flames. The fire seemed to pick up at the same moment that Rayne reached for _teron_. Angel-Magic flooded his senses with the now familiar electric glow of purified magic, untainted. Light without the Shadow. Bright magnificent energy coursing through his veins! But that was just the beginning of what he felt. He used the stored _ki'mera_ of the encounter in the Dream Realm to fuel the incantation he worked to increase the strength of his blade. Adem Highlander had made some adjustments to the sword long before Rayne was born. His father Pendral had also carried the blade for much of his lifetime. Infusing the weapon with much of the stored _ki'mera_ energy obtained in his countless battles against the Shadow.

The sword was already glowing pale blue in the dimly lit room before the fire caught alight. Rayne continued to work the spells of _teron_ into the blade, as the fire on the hearth picked up and began to blaze with not only flames, but a light within, around, and beyond those flames of orange and amber. It seemed to Rayne that it was Angel-Magic. A connection between the fire that burned against the wood, and the energy that flowed through Rayne and into his sword. Soon it was difficult for Rayne to distinguish between the light of the fire, and the light of his blade—despite one being blue-white, the other being amber and orange—as both appeared to shine with an intense brightness that he also felt flowing through his core, his flesh and bones. Filling him with a cool burning. That seemed to be purifying all the damage done to him over his years lived with Jinn-Magic in his veins. Rayne was part immortal blood, from his grandmother Isabelle's side of the family, as was his father Pendral. He had been a half blood, and so although Rayne looked no older than his mid-twenties, he had the potential to live longer than any mortal could survive even if they had also been born as a strong wielder. He had seen many battles during that lifetime. Now considering all the great adventures he had lived through, he felt for a while that perhaps he had lived beyond what any mortal could expect to experience. Deciding at that moment that perhaps he had already been very fortunate.

A slip in his thought brought a decline in the strength of the spells he moved into the blade. Perhaps it was just the electrifying and seductive force of _teron's_ purity that had him thinking in far too a positive state of mind to be sustainable. Before reality dawned upon him. Without Elarja RinHannen, his death would have been permanent. He also had no recollection of what he had seen or done after his death. Despite the Rift in the timelines, there was no sight beyond life for the living.

He returned his focus to his work, increasing the spells as the _ki'mera_ of ancient demons of the Dream Realm flowed into his blade. Via his soul and that of his Battle Angel. In a way the demon souls were already contained within the sword, but the enchantment he worked by infusing that stored energy with the metals of the blade was something different. Something studied and learnt throughout the Ages by male and female wielders for as long as there were weapons to enchant. But the work he did here and now was different once again to anything that had been done before. At least not for tens of thousands of years prior to the Age of Chaos. He found the more he worked the spells, the more he became in tune with the sword and its magic, sensing a link with the weapon and the enchantment. A _kigare_ between himself and his sword, the fire and _teron_. He also sensed a connection to the enchantments that had been worked into the blade by his father, Pendral, and his grandfather, Adem.

It seemed that through that connection he could sense those two men for the first time. A bonding of spirit and mind similar to the _kigare_ that informed Rayne of their purpose. Forces that had driven them at the times that they worked such enchantments upon the blade. As Angel-Magic and the fire increased its incandescence, he began to realise the parts of his own identity, beliefs and obligations that weighed so heavily upon him, were shared equally if not more so by his father and grandfather. In those hours that he forged the sword into a new form of Angel-Magic—a force that was perhaps indestructible but perhaps also had the potential for incredible destruction—he began to understand the mind and soul of Pendral Dragon-Sword and Adem Highlander.

As that understanding grew via Angel-Magic that was contained within his being, Rayne Dragon-Sword began to love them. He felt their compassion, their dignity, their honour and their respect for Kismeria and its people. By forging his soul with the sword of his lineage, he had learnt a part of the history of those men who had gone before him. What drove them, what made them go on when there seemed to be no hope, nothing but desolation and despair. It was their beliefs, their ideals, their strengths and their ability to make changes for the common good. But more than anything it was their desire to oppose evil, to eradicate the destruction of Jinn-Fendinn from the face of the earth.

On and on he worked the blade as the force of _teron_ surged within him to a crescendo. Light of the sword and fire almost blinding to his vision as the raw intensity of the ancient magic of the world raged within him. Enough to tear him apart! But he only wished to laugh, though he began to weep. He had informed the guards of his intentions, so they would not be alarmed despite being able to sense massive amounts of Angel-Magic being wielded within the room. _Teron_ was waves of incinerating heat crashing against ice with lightning charging through its core. Rivers of magma coursing against the waves. Catastrophic tornados swirled the elements against one another. Ice waves crashed against a magma river. It was a glorious struggle. His mind raced with thoughts. Emotions so strong and magnificent but at the same time so terrifying he wished for nothing other than to reach the end. Fear of letting go of such elation was a dread beyond comprehension. He did not want it to end!

Then he learnt the final piece of the puzzle about his father and grandfather. The true source of their motivation. It was the women they had loved. For Adem Highlander, there was an eternal struggle. He loved the White Snow Fox, Jean Fairsythe, more than his heart could handle, but he had also loved Rayne's grandmother, Isabelle, immensely also. That struggle that had caused Adem so much pain and anguish was also the reason he fought so bravely and with such passion.

It was the same with Pendral, for Pendral had loved Rayne's mother greatly indeed. Love fuelled his ambition and his desires in his battles and conquests. It was this final lesson that made Rayne understand the most unifying emotion of his lineage. It was their love for the women who would continue that line. This new understanding provided the strength of healing and purification of Rayne's soul that washed away a bitter and deep wound within his own heart and mind. Jinn-Fendinn's claw. A claw of cold fusion with razor blades around his beating heart. A fist of stone that burnt with corruption via Jinn-Magic on _teron_. He realised then his greatest fear was not to die, for he had done that already and survived. His fear was for Rievenna, and for the child she would raise to carry the name of Highlander. Fear was a burning pain in his chest, but _teron_ blazed with extravagant brilliance. So strong he felt he might go mad from the ecstasy. But this was pure _teron_. It was in fact making him sane again.

Chapter 10

Sword of Valour

Rayne heard a knock at the door and one of the guards calling his name. He had only just released the Angel-Magic when he heard the sound. Rievenna's immortal ears must have detected the sound clearly enough for it to wake her. She sat upright, pulling the sheets up over her breasts. 'What are you doing?' she asked. He smiled in response, before he replied, 'I was working. Go back to sleep, my darling.' The knock came again, followed by startled voices outside the door. Rayne unlocked the door to be met with a very puzzled and half frantic faced Nordic guard. Hamel Eagle-Spear was tall even for a Nordic of this Age, standing nearly seven feet. He towered above Rayne, looking down with large dark eyes that shone like polished stone: a hawk's beak of a nose and chiselled cheek bones. He looked very much like Rodin Cloud-Walker with dark hair tied in a tail. Fringe falling around his face and a dark moustache and close-cropped beard. 'Are you alright, my Lord Dragon-Sword?' Hamel asked with a cautious stare. 'We heard your warning before you began, but you have woken half the palace with your wielding. I must say, your strength in _teron_ is beyond admirable, especially for a mortal blood.'

Rayne did not bother to remind the guard that he was part immortal, or that he was grandson to a Son of Odin. Instead he stepped out past Hamel, moving into the hallway to see lanterns lined up for a great distance in both directions—men and women of the palace in their nightclothes holding up the bulbs of ancient Lore. Glowing amber, emerald or pale aqua in dark metal cages hanging from rings—including the entire host of Children of Odin that had accompanied them here, all with startled expressions—many of them whispering to one another or talking in hushed murmurs of wonder and dismay, as others noticed him emerging from the room when their expressions became mixed with admiration and bewilderment.

Others were crossing the hallways that passed between the one he was standing in. Hundreds of faces within eyesight. Robes of coloured and gold tasselled silk of the ancient nobility. Lords and Ladies of the First Clan woken by the torrents of Angel-Magic Rayne had summoned while at the same time unaware of its radiance to others.

A very short figure emerged from behind a few lords' robes as if parting curtains for his entrance. The creature stood about as tall as Rayne's knee. Blue-grey fur covered its face, hands and feet. It wore a dark green silk robe worked with crimson symbols upon the sleeves and hem, tied with a golden belt of rune covered medallions.

The Kjia'hyenti stared up at Rayne with eyes that shone with a blue aura within those black orbs. Its pointed ears twitching nervously atop its fluffy haired head, that was shaped like a watermelon laying sideways. A grey moustache with two small but smooth white fangs jutting from its upper lip. It spoke to him in a gravelly tone that sounded too powerful for the size of the Wise Wanderer, a more common name in the modern age for this unusual breed. 'You had us all quite frightened, Rayne Dragon-Sword!'

To Rayne's surprise, he then realised the creature was actually speaking the common tongue of mortals. But from what Rayne knew of the Wise Wanderers, they had knowledge beyond space and time. They were a kind of Oracle race, but Rayne knew this was not the Oracle that Rodin had spoken of. Elarja had explained that their Oracle was Nordic, and he was born blind, but he had great sight through visions of past, present and future. 'My name is Grom,' the little fellow explained, giving what appeared to be a frightened grin. 'It is a great honour to meet you, Odin Child. I knew your father, and I once met your grandfather.' Rayne was struck dumb at those words, wondering how that could be possible, but again he remembered the way time was perceived differently for these somewhat telepathic creatures. He considered that the Rift may also be in play with those remarks, before Grom turned to march away with a small emerald lantern glowing in his grasp. Ears quivering nervously before he vanished between the gowns of more Nordics. Men and women pressing forwards to gape at the man who had woken them with such glorious emanations of _teron_.

He later realised that it was predictable that anyone wielding that much of _teron_ inside the palace would cause an alarm, but as he began to speak with his companions, he learnt that the male wielders had been roused from their dreams by the incomprehensible scale of Angel-Magic that was seemingly bleeding: burning and shining through the walls. The women had not felt the male half of Angel-Magic: they had simply been made aware of the danger by their husbands. Or by the male Children of Odin that alerted their female companions as crowds began to gather around Rayne's door.

Rodin and Elarja were soon crossing the hallway heading towards Rayne with similar expressions of wonder, mixed with a perceivable sense of dread over the danger of wielding so much Angel-Magic inside stone walls. Rayne realised then that if he had slipped with the Angel-Magic, he might have brought half the palace down around their heads. That thought was reiterated by Elarja who spoke with Rayne alone in his bedchamber as the others were told to go back to bed. Rievenna had dressed and made her way back to her own quarters before Rayne and Elarja took seats in front of the fire. Rodin also gave Rayne a very serious stare before exiting the room. Rayne thought the First Nordic King appeared to be fuming over the risk to his palace and his people. He said nothing however, leaving the two men alone to talk.

'So, tell me what you were trying to do?' Elarja asked, when a servant had brought them a plate of early breakfast and some brewed tea. In this Age, Elarja had explained, as most immortals lived behind stone walls, agriculture was not yet widely developed. Crops for harvest could be sown and grown in a very short time via a combining of the two halves of Angel-Magic. Often the fields surrounding a city would be used to plant and raise orchards of fruit or fields of wheat or corn or garden vegetables. There were also large fields of earth reserved for such purposes within the city walls where the Harvest Rituals could be used to make orchards grow and give fruit within three days. These studies were what led to the first Wood Kin Clans emerging, of which the modern clans in the Age of Chaos were the Dremelden and their Dark Elf cousins.

The platter of food was something Rayne had already become accustomed to at the feast when they first arrived at the palace. The bursting flavours and rich tapestry of colour and emotions that stirred within the soul at every bite was an experience beyond simple enjoyment of eating. It was a journey through existence, an overpowering thrill and delight with every taste. And the sustaining power of the food and drink was the equivalent to modern day Healing-Magic. The body was apparently cured of any pain or illness in a very short while when eating any combination of the earth's natural bounty. This morning it was oats with a reddish fruit, honey and goat's milk. Animals were also farmed within the city walls, though there was no spell or chant to increase the speed of their growth. Fruit was preferred for all meals compared with meats or even grains during this early Age. Fruit and water were considered the raw natural bounty intended by the Great Angels to be consumed every day, unless harsh winters reduced the chance of Harvest, in which case animals were sacrificed when grain ran dry.

This Age was also many hundreds of thousands of years before the race of mortals were discovered in the world. Elarja had once said there was a great mystery surrounding the question of where men had originated. Immortals had been formed of the elements by the Lord God with the assistance of the Great Angels, but only God had taken part in the creation of mankind. Elarja's father Rodin had only encountered mortals previous to this time when Elarja had journeyed to the Age of Men and brought ambassadors back to Rodin so that the first clans of men could learn of the ancient Magic of the Nordics. In those cases, Elarja had not taken mortals with the intention of saving them from an impending death. He had simply selected strong wielders amongst the mortals to bring knowledge further through the Ages. For this reason, Elarja had not been alerted of the risks of upsetting Calliach until much later in time.

'I'm not sure what I was doing,' Rayne explained. 'I was just ... working! Angel-Magic here, it's so strong! I can hardly resist reaching for it even now, even though I am nearly passing out from overexertion.'

'Relax!' Elarja commanded. 'The sword. Tell me what you did to it.'

'I was increasing its strength, but something more: it wasn't like other times that I've used _ki'mera_ to build the sword's capacities. This was different, I felt connected to the sword, but not especially via Tohka Reiden. This was a kind of bond with the blade ... and my father.'

'Your father?' Elarja repeated with a troubled question to his tone. 'What about him?

'It was strange. I thought I could see part of his history, when he was still good, and my grandfather also. I felt them through the sword. But it was more than history. It was their minds, their heart and soul. It was as if the sword carried a part of them within its enchanted steel.'

'Interesting,' Elarja said with a frown. 'But what did you do?'

'I told you, I made the sword stronger, much stronger! But I'm not sure why I was doing it, or what it is made to do.'

'May I hold it?' Elarja asked. Rayne handed him the blade. Unsheathed, it glowed pale aqua now in the amber lit chamber. Elarja gripped the hilt, a calm expression on his face as he gently exhaled. Suddenly his eyes bulged. Light flared in his emerald orbs as if he had been struck by lightning. A tense snarl crossed his lips as he flashed his perfect white teeth. When he had returned to a state of calm, he handed the sword back to Rayne and said, 'Yes, you have made it much stronger. It is now perhaps the mightiest blade I have ever held. I'm still not sure what it is for. But I know now this is why we were brought here. This is what the Time Stones wanted from you.

'By bringing you here to a time of the ancient Magic of the Great Angels, you have forged this blade with such immense capacity that it is blinding to the mind.

'We will speak with the Oracle in a few hours. Perhaps he will know the purpose of this weapon.' Rayne sat back and breathed deeply to consider what to say next. 'Tell me about Grom. I thought their kind usually only existed through Portal-Magic like Odin's Stairs.'

'The Wise Wanderers are common amongst the immortals of this Age,' Elarja replied. 'My father formed a decree with their leaders to share knowledge, Kismeria and the other realms inhabited by the Kjia'hyenti. You will see more of his kind around the palace if we stay for much longer.'

'Grom said he knew my father, and Adem Highlander?'

'The Kjia'hyenti see through time. For them the past, present and future are all mixed together. They see their futures the same way we remember our past. For them there are still alternate possibilities for those futures, but it is set in stone in a way also. Some events are fixed, some things they are sure of. They also see much of the present in the same way, through visions similar to memories they can gain knowledge of much that is occurring in various dimensions in present time. Grom is not from the future, though he will still be alive in the present. Still within the Portal-World of Odin's Stairs.

'Grom's father was the one who imprisoned me within that alternate dimension for countless millennia until I was rescued by Carl Wilder. They began to fear the Time Stones: their potential for great harm upon the timelines. I tried to reason with them, as I was there to gain information. But they would not provide it, and they overpowered me. The Leaf Aldebrands, as they are also known, have great ability to undo magic. Even Great Angel Magic is easily defeated when a group of Kjia'hyenti are at work.'

'Will Grom and his kin be a threat to us here?'

'Grom is an old friend,' Elarja said with a grin. 'But I would not like to encounter his father again, here or in any other timeline. He will remember his purpose, and yes, perhaps he would try to imprison me again. Perhaps your presence will change his thinking. If he sees great purpose in you, it is possible he will forget old grudges.' Elarja paused to consider a moment. He chuckled and said, 'Of course for Grom's father, it is a future grudge. Though he sees it as part of his past. Though in a way it still has not happened yet. Though if it had not already happened, we would not be here now...'

'I get the general idea,' Rayne said with a sigh. 'I met another of his kind, long ago. It was the day I really started out on this great adventure. He was the first one to ever tell me about my father.'

'What was his name?'

'Krommet.'

'Ah, yes, I know him. Funnily enough, Krommet is Grom's first cousin. Their fathers are brothers. What did he tell you?'

'He told me enough to decide I had to help him. I will tell you the story; if you have time?'

'Time is all I have,' Elarja said.

***

Later that morning Elarja and Rayne met with the Oracle. In a large hall of white marble floors and thick blue marble columns, supporting a vaulted ceiling, gilded with vines and small golden figurines that resembled the Leaf Aldebrands. There were a number of the furry Kjia'hyenti present in the meeting hall, seated along the sides of the room, where Elves from the three current clans were also gathered. The Torvellen clan had also emerged from the Nordic bloodlines, and although most still resided in cities of stone and lived amongst the Nordics, they were already considered a separate race even this early in the history of immortals.

Dremelden and Torvellen sat together on long carved stone benches, some raised higher further back to allow a good view for all that were gathered. Dremelden bearing dark tribal tattoos on their arms and some on their faces in black or blue ink, marking them as Readers amongst their clansmen. All dressed in the _torin'sidhe_ coats and trousers with black Aldebrand cloaks and Lukrorian Bows across their backs, in shoulder cases of intricately coloured leathers. The Bows themselves glistened and shone like wet metal in bright colours.

Most of the Torvellen wore the _ghoda'sidhe_ shadow material and coloured gauntlets and masks of the four Rohjors, red, black, blue or white, the Lion, Wolf, Dragon and Fox Rohjors.

Even now the Torvellen of this Age were similar and yet different to their Nordic cousins, as the more commonly attributed fair skin and blue eyes and golden hair of the Nordics was more often the tan skin, dark hair and eyes for the Torvellen bloodlines. Of course, the mix of similar looking Nordics was still very common during this Age. Dark haired, dark eyed Nordics continued to be born throughout the generations, yet here the distinction began to become clear.

It was of course to do with breeding, features passed on through the bloodlines through selective match making, though there was no formality to these changes. Other than a belief that it was guided by their links to the Great Angels of a particular element, and perhaps the guidance of those deities in the development of new nations. The result was a change in more than physicality, however. It changed the very soul of each clan, their magic, their minds, their abilities and their purpose.

Already the Torvellen had begun to delve more deeply into the study of caves. Deep stone caverns and the towering mountains. Seeking out their spiritual connection with the Elemental Masters of Earth and Stone. At the same time the Nordics were forging their limitless potential into the studies of Fire-Magic, wielding lightning against the demon hordes and purging the enemy threat with waves of flame that was almost equal to that of the Great Angels in this ancient time.

The Dremelden of course were busy learning of the Great Trees and their secret powers, studying the divine intent of the Great Angels of Forests, Wood and Water. Studies into Water would eventually cause another split in the clans until the first of the Ruhalden were to appear in the world. Admiring and worshipping the Gods of the Sea. Crafting their great ships and learning of the Magic of the Great Angel Neproton, or Nepton, as the mortals were to later name him, and his Spirit Wardens of the Waves. His mermaids and his Kraken, his Sea Serpents and Sea Horses that drew the chariots of his people under the waves of the ancient world.

These were the first of the four clans, of which twelve would eventually emerge, then fall back upon themselves, re-joining and unifying their broken clans until the first four were to remain once more. The history of those twelve clans, from development, to collapse, was the heart and soul of the heritage of immortal kin. Elarja had watched and guided the clans as best as he was able for a large portion of that history, yet his imprisonment in the Realm beyond Odin's Stairs had kept him apart from Kismeria for a very long time also. He felt that he had lost much of his control and influence over his people during that absence.

The Kjia'hyenti responsible for that imprisonment sat amongst his comrades within the hall—staring at Elarja with a promise of a threat against his freedom—with Grom seated beside his father looking abashed and brow beaten. The Wise Wanderers were all seated in a group of coloured fluffy fur faced creatures that were each as different from one another as they were similar. Some were short and stocky with melon shaped skulls like Grom and his father, but the colour of their fur could be pale white, or mauve, jade green, black with white stripes, you name it! This variety of fur colour was spread across the range of other body shapes for the Leaf Aldebrands, some tall and thin or large and muscular like immortals, Elarja had even seen some of their kind as tall as Giants.

Although there were none that large here today, there were in fact two real Giants present in the room. Both women of the exceptional beauty attributed to the beings that were usually always at least twelve feet tall. Yet these two women were perhaps only a little over ten feet, suggesting they were still young. Despite wearing the garb of warrior women, brown leathers and thick wool jerkins with their arms and legs bared with bronzed skin, lace up animal skin boots with long swords and bows over their shoulders. Each with a quiver of very long arrow shafts hanging from their waist belts.

The blue-eyed woman wore a fierce expression, though the dark haired one appeared kind, soft brown eyes and an almost sweet smile. She gazed upon Elarja and Rayne standing in the centre of the gathering before Rodin upon his throne, and the Oracle by his side.

It had been long since Elarja had set eyes upon the Oracle, and he felt the blind man glaring back at him although his eye sockets were sealed with skin where no eyes had ever been, yet the Oracle saw much of the world, past, present and future. The man had looked old even for an immortal as long as Elarja had known him, a tangled frizz of grey hair around his ears on an otherwise bald scalp, a long hooked nose and pale skin that was wrapped around his bony frame like a sack thrown over a pile of sticks, and his rib cage pressing through his thin silk robe gave this exact impression even now while the old Nordic stood within the room and fixed Elarja and then Rayne with that eyeless stare.

The Oracle spoke in a rasping tone as he pointed a bony finger at Rayne and almost shouted the words, 'So, you bring this blood of the Water Dragon to our ancient kingdom! You risk infecting us all with the Jinn-Magic upon his soul! You are a wild man, Elarja! I have warned you so many times of the danger of time travel, yet you ignore me!' Grom's father grunted in satisfaction, though Elarja saw fury in those large glowing orbs when he glanced at the little Leaf Aldebrand sitting in a red coat with arms crossed under his chest.

'The Time Stones brought me here,' Elarja replied in his own defence. 'I had not planned on going so far back in history. Yet I believe we were brought here with a purpose.'

'Your father has told me,' the Oracle said in a careful tone, though he still seemed to be burning with fury. Elarja's father had also scolded him for bringing Rayne here when the two of them were alone to speak, following the banquet last evening. Rodin had almost raged at Elarja of the risks he was placing the world in. The potential chance of bringing Jinn-Magic on _teron_ back to the source of time! Elarja had pleaded with his father to see that there must be a reason for it, that the Time Stones must have some intelligence and purpose of their own to have brought them here. But his father's rage had been overwhelming, and Elarja had retreated to his chambers at the peak of Rodin's wrath. 'The purpose is clear to anyone that can see it,' the Oracle continued, 'though it may have occurred by mere chance more than destiny. Rayne Dragon-Sword now wields a blade that shines to my eyeless gaze like staring directly at the sun from the perch of endless dark space. It glows and burns in my mind's eye now so brightly, that if he were to draw the blade, I feel that I might faint in wonder of its magnificence. This is the purpose of your visit here, for only in this ancient Age could such a blade be forged. Angel-Magic here is so clean, pure and bright, that a wielder born of the blood of the Blue Water Dragon might have the insight to create such a powerful enchantment, that it might serve to hold a great portion of the might of Odin and his Great Angels. Even here and now when the Great Angels are so potent in Angel-Magic that none have ever been able to create a Resting Point strong enough to entice them to join with wielder in mind and spirit via the _kigare_.

'We only know of such practices due to your time travelling adventures, Lord Elarja, that and my perceptions of the world after this Age, and throughout the Ages. I see that in the distant present of the Age of Chaos, the Battle Angels have become weak, feeble, they will therefore be irrelevant! I also see that Balor will turn against his Brothers and Sisters to serve the Lord of Darkness!'

That brought stunned gasps from everyone in the room, including Rayne who stood with mouth hanging open in disgust of this claim. 'This disaster may yet be undone by the presence of Rayne Dragon-Sword,' the Oracle said, 'for he holds now the Sword of Valour, and with it he may invite Odin Lightning-Lord to join with the blade as the first Resting Point, and his Brothers and Sisters may also use the sword to store their ancient might. These Children of Odin may also gain the service of Battle Angels if they too can enchant their weapons to similar potential. This I know is the reason you are here, to save the world from the loss of Balor's might, and to restore Angel-Magic of the Great Angels in the Age of Chaos.'

The room was deathly silent. All eyes were fixed upon Rayne, who stood now with a determined expression, though he would not have any clue as to the dangers he was yet to face.

In this ancient Age, Odin and his kindred were scarcely seen or conversed with except at their mountain home where the Lightning-Lord ruled as King over all of Kismeria. Bridged between the throne at the peak of the mountain, Odin's Seat, and the High Realm where he reigned as the Fist and Spear of the Lord God. Only by reaching Odin's throne could the Lightning-Lord be summoned, and that journey would involve travelling across some of the most dangerous regions of demon territory that had ever existed. Dragons would be hunted by the ancient Demonsouled of this Age, some Shadow Dragons and other winged creatures that would make the air more treacherous than risking the journey by _altherin_ horse.

'Only the Children of Odin may join you when scaling the great mountain,' the Oracle continued, 'for if wielders of this Age were to make the journey with you, they may be chosen by the Battle Angels rather than these Children, and that would make further trouble for the timelines. I would however ask that we have volunteers amongst the Kjia'hyenti and that these two lovely Giant women also join you to serve as protectors.' The two women gave gracious bows from their seated positions. Grom urgently waved his blue furry right paw in answer to the request of a volunteer. His father growled in disappointment, but Grom was given the task as he was the only one to raise his hand. Elarja was glad to have Grom along for the journey. He may be of great use if they were attacked by powerful demon wielders.

Finally, it was Rodin's turn to speak, to pronounce his word for or against this task. 'This road is deathly dangerous, and I will not allow my son to go off on such an adventure without doing more to assure his safety and that of his companions.' He sat in his throne looking frustrated before he spoke again to say, 'My dragon riders will follow your journey from the skies, making rest stops and patrols when necessary. Mostly we will be there to create an escape path for your horses with aid of Dragonfire. The Oracle has said that no wielders of this Age may join you on the ascent of Mount Asgardia, but I insist that representatives of each clan be chosen to serve as guides and bodyguards for this journey.' Only moments after those words every Nordic, Torvellen and Dremelden warrior in the room rose to volunteer for the mission. There was so many that Rodin finally said, 'Very well, from the volunteers we will choose ten from each clan, as too many riders may disadvantage the need for speed and stealth. Fifty _altherin_ horses may pass by unnoticed, but hundreds would be much more conspicuous to enemy eyes spying from the air.'

When the warriors were chosen, the Giant women insisted they would invite more of their male kin to join them, making a team of five that could easily keep pace with their _altherin_ steeds for short distances. Giants were able to run long distance with ease though at a much slower pace. Their presence would be welcome in tight jams against Demonsouled however, and Elarja was glad to have them too.

'We will hold a great feast in honour of this quest,' Rodin announced. 'There will be songs, and dancing and great food and wines and ale. Let the people celebrate for the hope of Kismeria, for it seems that hope is reliant upon this bold task.'

***

Adem rode at the head of the column of over five thousand Forsaken warriors, Alit'aren and Ael Tarael. Wielders of the Jinn Arts in their dark armour and shadow cloaks and coats. It was early summer. The land was sweltering under the bright golden ball that baked the earth to hard clay. Horses stirring up dust clouds in their wake.

Jean rode close to his right with Wil and Carl flanking either side. Tarz also rode close to the front line, though there were hundreds of other riders scouting the fields and roads ahead. Wil was anxious to be reunited with his wife, Hayley. But Adem and Jean were half terrified over the fact that their daughter had grown up in Kismeria without them, and that she was now a young woman. This fear and need to protect her drove their journey towards the small community known as Red River, where Tarz had told them their daughter was under the safe care of the former Torvellen and Nordic rulers.

Shienden also watched their journey from the skies, the great dragon's shadow sometimes covering riders as he swooped overhead. Enormous wings spread wide before they felt him beat the air down upon them. His fierce roar was heard whenever another patrol of riders was spotted by his keen eyesight. The warning was more for the rest of the group. Shienden could always inform Adem directly to his mind, though Adem didn't mind if Shienden wanted to appear important to the entire Forsaken army.

Five thousand was a small force to bring, but Tarz had assured them the regions they were crossing would be without conflict. Demons were still held beyond the Borderland walls. The people of these lands were peaceful in a time of rest and recovery after so much war and bloodshed.

The land was changed to Adem's memory of these regions, much of the flattened fields had been raised by mountains of earth and stone that thrust up out of nowhere to hinder or block their path. Except for the narrow roadways that had been carved between or up alongside many of those new ranges, some climbing so high they were covered in gleaming white peaks even at this time of year. Tarz said those mountains, and the valleys and lakes they also passed by on their journey were the result of mad Alit'aren half destroying the world. Sometimes entire communities or even armies in their fits of insanity. Unleashing Angel-Magic to such epic proportions that even some of the coastal regions were ruined and fell into the sea, while other landforms rose out of the oceans to form land bridges to islands and other nations across the coasts of the West Lands.

But something else had changed, Adem noticed many more forests along the journey also, some of them appeared ancient, although most would be less than eight or nine hundred years old. Towering trees blocked out all light under their canopies, dark forbidden places that were said to be haunted by the slain Dremelden and Eva'Hahlen, or Dark Elves, in their centuries of blood feuds.

They were crossing a large open field that bordered on the edges of just such a forest, known as Derelwood, when Adem spotted a number of Dark Elves moving with stealth through the trees on the forest's edge.

Adem raised a fist and led the line around in a circle to double back and slow as the rest of the column also reduced their pace, as more and more eyes of half-bloods and immortals fixed upon these Dark Elves that were now making little effort to hide themselves amongst the trees. Adem was immediately struck with how fierce these Dark Elves appeared. There were eleven men and four women that he could see, all tall and slender with defined muscle. All with arm tattoos above their arm wrappings and dark green gauntlets. Tan skinned, staring with fierce dark orbs of malevolence, not entirely dissimilar to the eyes of a Souljhin. Adem half expected red flames to dance within those eyes, yet the darkness simply reflected the light in a bright and dangerous gleam. The threat of madness was extreme in every one of them.

Adem noticed no dark aura around any of them however, which suggested none were under the control of possession spirits, but he could never be certain, as that gift of sight was just an indicator of possession. He still had not learnt to judge the implications of such auras specifically other than the fact that it was sometimes apparent in madmen that were also possessed or guided by such a demonic.

The Dark Elves noted the banners flying from the saddles of eight of the horsemen, two for each of the four Rohjors, the Red Fire Lion, Black Shadow Wolf, Blue Water Dragon, and White Snow Fox. There were also banners of the Shield of Fire, the Hero Chain and the Great Cycle amongst the Forsaken riders. These Dark Elves seemed to understand immediately that they signified the presence of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.

Their leader of the small patrol saluted to Tarz, and the gesture was returned by the Forsaken ruler with fist to breastplate. The Dark Elf then looked upon Adem and his companions, staring in defiance and what may have been hatred. Adem gazed back with eyes of peace and submission. He was unsure of himself in this situation, but he did not want to threaten immortal kin. It was his curse that had made them the way they were now. He felt nothing but guilt for it.

He saluted in the same way as Tarz. Slowly the entire host of Dark Elves returned the gesture, most wearing only _torin'sidhe_ coats and trousers with lace up leather boots. All carried dark Lukrorian Bows over their shoulders in leather cases, with short and long swords hanging from either side of their waist belts. They each carried a quiver of arrows over their shoulders also, but Adem knew already that if any one of them chose to fire upon him, they would use the Bows to unleash shafts of Hellfire. He had been told as much about these people during the journey with Tarz, and that they were dangerous and cold blooded. Adem saw only potential in such strength and ancient blood lines. Fuelled by the magic of Jinn-Fendinn due to the curse of the Sons of Odin that flowed through their veins.

He moved his horse forwards towards the Dark Elves. When Tarz and the others moved to follow he waved them to stay back, turning with a hard glare before he continued to position himself at the forest's edge. He did not climb down from his horse however, that would be submitting too much far too early. He did however continue to regard them with an expression of calmness, no threat in his eyes, only consideration of such potential.

'You know who I am?' Adem asked their leader, and the Dark Elf nodded before providing his own name. 'I am called Tinder Hollows. We may appear threatening to you, Adem Highlander. Know that this is the face of all of our kin, whether meeting commoner or king in peace or in war. Such is the curse of our people, the corruption that we wield.'

Adem breathed a deep sigh in return to such an admission, before he replied, 'You see also that I offer you and your kin no threat either. That same corruption has been a part of my soul for many years. I see that if I could live as long as any of you, perhaps I would also greet friends with such a face.'

He paused a moment to see the slightest change in their dark brooding expressions, particularly in the eyes of Tinder Hollows. Adem guessed that as a child Elf, Tinder had been given such a name because of the inherent dark fire that would have glowed in his eyes even at birth, this was something else he knew of the Dark Elves. The curse was becoming genetic.

The fact that Tinder was leader of this patrol meant little in terms of their hierarchy either. Adem had learnt that these Dark Elves lacked a proper ruler or official chief. Tinder being leader here and now may be the result of his years of experience compared to the rest. Or his skill at hunting and tracking, or fighting, or any number of other reasons. A man like Tinder might have found himself leader of cleaning pots if that had been the skill that he was best at. Of course, he might also be the leader because of what Adem sensed in the man. He was very strong at wielding Jinn-Magic. Perhaps this fact had resulted in him being chosen as the leader once the Forsaken riders were spotted, or particularly when they knew the Sons and Daughter were amongst them.

'Know that the Sons of Odin make no threat against your people, your clan, or your armies,' Adem continued. 'Know too that I do not speak on behalf of the White Snow Fox, but I may use what influence is necessary to ensure I have kept my word.' Tinder nodded uncertainly, though the hatred in his eyes had boiled down to a low simmer. 'I have learnt what little I was able about the Eva'Hahlen since my recent return to Kismeria, and from what I hear, I see only potential in uniting such a force to fight alongside us at the Ragnarök Battle.

'The Daughter of Thor is strongly opposed to the wielding of the Jinn Arts. I have already seen enough of that force to know it has the potential to crush Jinn-Fendinn and his minions, if used effectively.' Tinder nodded again, and Adem could see the man was interested in where this was leading.

'Therefore, I make you an offer, Tinder Hollows of the Eva'Hahlen. Go out amongst your clansmen and seek out one who is willing to bring leadership and unity to your people. A leader is needed to decide upon the fate and the wellbeing of the entire race. When you find this chief or king, tell him that Adem Highlander wishes to make a pact. To unite the blood of the old Dremelden and the Dark Elves, and to bring the Eva'Hahlen into the fold to ride against Jinn-Fendinn at the Ragnarök Battle.' A confused look crossed Tinder's face before he said, 'The Eva'Hahlen do not ride.' To which Adem replied, 'To fight against Jinn-Fendinn at the Ragnarök Battle. To wield Jinn-Magic against the very source of such corruption. Driving the enemy so deep within the East Lands that they cower in holes and crevices, begging for death when we unleash our wrath upon them. If the Eva'Hahlen wish to be a part of this, find me a man or woman who will guide your people to such unity, for such a noble cause as the world's fate.

'Will you swear to do this, Tinder Hollows?'

Tinder stared at Adem as if dumbstruck except for the kindle of dangerous knowledge within those dark orbs, before he finally gave a sweeping bow and spoke the words, 'You have given great honour to the Lost Kin this day, Son of Odin and Blue Water Dragon. Your words promise much, perhaps the only foreseeable way for our clan to become accepted is for us to make peace and unite with your armies. I therefore see that this is a wise choice you have provided. I feel the weight of responsibility you have burdened me with. I swear by the honour of our ancient lineage, the Dremelden and as far back as the Nordic First Bloods, I will not fail you in this task so long as I am still able to draw breath.'

As Adem watched Tinder and his kin return to the forest before vanishing amongst the shadows, Adem felt a stir of emotion that was somewhat cleansing after the terrifying news of late. He felt that at least that one meeting had gone rather well. When he returned to the others, Tarz moved alongside his horse to comment, 'I did not get the chance to warn you, Highlander, but I guessed you would offer them peace. If you had brought them substantial threat: or if you had brought harm to any one of them, I assure you there were more waiting close by. Perhaps a force large enough to do us some serious damage.' Adem looked back amongst the trees but saw no sign of a single Dark Elf.

'How many do you see?' he asked Tarz after clearing his throat.

'I don't see any,' Tarz replied. 'That is the whole point. There could still be thousands in those woods with arrows aimed within firing range and you would not know it until you were dead.'

'A wise choice then to offer them peace,' Adem said, looking back again with eyes straining to try to spot just one of them. He saw none. The column began to ride again but at a slower pace, it was nearing early evening and they would need to make camp. Tarz suggested stopping close by a small village where they could visit an inn, to eat and drink while some of the men kept watch.

Adem was unsure of taking such risks so early on, but when they pulled rein close to the village of Cornbettelle, he found those amber lights warm and alluring. The scent of roasted meats and breads baking wafted in the air from the blue stone houses that made him wonder what they would be serving at the inn. And so, it came to be that after making camp and freshening up with bowls of warm water, Adem, Jean, Carl and Wil found themselves joining Tarz and a few of his men, as they walked merrily into the glowing common room of the Square Hoofed Faun. Well, the rest of them appeared to be in reasonably high spirits, yet Adem was still haunted by the memory of Isabelle. He couldn't stop thinking about her, and he felt heavy with guilt and remorse for not treating her as well as he might have.

They took a large table with room for the four of them, as well as Tarz and four of his men. More than twenty other Forsaken men and women moved to seats or standing positions around the room. Their presence had an instant effect on the faces and moods of the other patrons. Mostly men and women in commoner spun wool of blues, greens or reds, but some had the look of middle-class merchants in finer coats or silk dresses, peering at the Forsaken over their goblets of wine and ale mugs as if they were rabid wolves encroaching upon their territory.

The innkeeper made his way to their table with a nervous grin, wiping his clean white apron methodically as he took their drink orders. Adem asked for a menu but the innkeeper simply relayed the dishes verbally, stating that there was fish in honeyed wine baked with parsnips and potatoes, roast duck in a red wine gravy with carrots, onions and sweet potato, chicken pie with mushrooms, onions and bacon or roast lamb cutlets in a rich gravy with mushrooms, peas, onions and broad beans. 'All are served with complimentary bread baskets of a freshly baked assortment of seed, white and wholemeal breads sourced from local harvests,' Tolbo Atalnor explained in a polite tone, after giving his name and the dinner menu, 'and venison spiced sliced sausage meats from our very own deer farm located close to the village.' The man was round as a very large grapefruit, with a sweaty face shaped like an onion. Beady black eyes and pale white tufts of hair around the ears. He was mortal, which was again unusual as this was still in Old Nordic territory, and a part of the Nordic Kingdom. The patrons were mostly Nordic blood, yet most of them had the sane expressions of those that were either very weak in Angel-Magic, or the men had followed the laws of the old decrees. To avoid wielding _teron_ except in weekly meditation on Angel-Magic of Air, and the women had surely never dabbled in the Jinn Arts. That also suggested that most of them were quite young for Nordics. Most would be no older than a hundred years if they had never been in situations necessary to defend themselves via Angel-Magic or Jinn-Magic.

Up until the last hundred years, wars were still common throughout the Free Lands. According to Tarz and his account of Kismerian history during Adem's absence. Including civil wars in contest of rulers such as the current Nordic King and attempted usurpers of the throne. As well as countless attacks from the High-Servants and their Souljhin Generals, as they swept through the lands taking down vast armies with their tainted blades and Hellfire. Adem knew that many of those raids and attacks had been led by his son, Pendral. Acting as Jinn-Fendinn's champion to bring terror and destruction to men, women and children of all nations.

His mood was sombre as he imagined such bloodshed and loss of innocent lives. Countless brave men and women who had fought and died to protect those that were too young, too old, or too weak to fight alongside them. Jinn-Fendinn was driving these people into oblivion, yet the immortal blood only dug their heels in deeper. Fighting back in the name of honour and duty, to preserve the hope of the nations. He knew there would be those amongst the mortals with the same degree of bravery and hope, but their lives were much shorter unless they were wielders. Great captains and heroes of the mortal blood faded into legend while the immortal kin endured.

Another thing he noticed while raising his mug of ale to his lips was the height of the ceiling in the common room, with large open fires on either end of the rectangular hall. The timber frames that supported the tiled roof were much higher than necessary even for immortals. He wondered at this until the answer entered the high carved doorway, thumping heavy boots against the slate floor. The twelve feet tall figure entered with adequate room to stand and make his way to a large chair—big enough for a bear!—close to the fire that Adem had until now failed to recognize as being far too large amongst the other tables and chairs. The Giant was male, old looking with a grey beard that hung halfway down his broad muscular chest. Wearing a woollen coat of dark blue and black leather trousers and boots. A long dark cloak flowing from his shoulders that seemed to drink in darkness similar to an Aldebrand cloak.

As the Giant was crossing the hall, he paused to look across at Adem and his companions. Surely, he had also noted the dozens of Forsaken patrolling the night surrounding the inn and the streets of the village, but when he looked at Adem with bright grey-blue eyes, Adem felt certain the Giant knew him for his strength in Angel-Magic. And his potential for destruction via Jinn-Magic. It was then that Adem realised in astonishment, that he was also sensing great strength in _teron_ and Jinn-Magic within the body of this Giant! He was gazing wide eyed at the towering figure—knowing Carl and Wil would be also—when Tarz spoke up to say, 'That there is Karbul Horn-Bow, an Alit'aren Giant. I forgot to mention the fact, but Giants are quite common in Kismeria these days. They have been ever since the Great Sea Invaders crossed the West Sea to invade the coasts of the West Lands. As well as bringing ships as far as the North Sea and also invading along the coasts of the South Sea. That was around the same time your grandson, Lord Rayne, was born into the world. Pendral fought against the invaders for many years, but eventually the invaders were given land in return for declarations of peace.

'The invaders were the kin of the Honds and other mortal clans of those you so often referred to as Vikings. They were tall as Nordics, fierce in battle and many were blatant wielders of Angel-Magic. As well as those amongst them like Old Karbul here, who was just a youngling in those days. He had already learnt to wield _teron_ to devastating effect against his enemies. Pendral and the rulers that opposed the invasion eventually admitted that they could not continue to try to push such power back into the sea, and peace talks began. Those talks began almost five hundred years ago this very day.' Talk of Adem's son and grandson did not help to improve Adem's mood in any way. Jean sipped at her wine goblet while listening to the tale with half interest.

They had ordered two of everything on the menu to be shared amongst their table. Adem reached for a chunk of freshly baked bread to dip in the lamb gravy. He took a bite to chew with polite fervour after a day of growing hunger. Only eating a few mouthfuls of dried meats, flat bread and hard cheese washed down with water for breakfast and lunch.

While they ate and talked amongst themselves, the old Giant sat in his chair drinking from a mug big enough to be a bucket with a handle. Glancing sideways from his seat occasionally as if wanting to speak with Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor, but politely waiting until they had finished their meal. For this reason, amongst others, Adem asked the innkeeper to provide Old Karbul with whatever he wanted to eat, and drink, and to add it to their bill. The innkeeper nervously replied while wiping his brow with a white handkerchief, 'It's all the same to me, Lord Dragon, you see Old Karbul never pays here. He keeps the peace you see. There has never been a brawl in my inn since Old Karbul brought that throne of his in here over twenty years ago. He eats and drinks as much as he likes regardless of who pays for him.'

Adem nodded, half embarrassed, but insisted that the Giant's meal and drinks be paid for by the gold Tarz had provided. The innkeeper stared greedily at the fistfuls of gold dragon marks that were handed over the bar to pay for Adem's entourage. He would make enough money tonight to pay off all his debts and retire no doubt, as Jean had also insisted that Tarz be exceptionally generous when paying the man.

Tarz was not tight fisted as far as Adem could recall, though he grumbled with a vexed expression to be parting with so much gold. Tarz looked even more disturbed when Adem informed him that Shienden had found the deer farm, and that Tarz would need to pay the innkeeper for the loss of a large portion of his stock. When Tarz returned he spoke to Adem in a gruff tone; 'The innkeeper asks that you spare his king stag if it is in any way possible to command your pet dragon.'

'I'll put a good word in for him,' Adem replied. That brought barks of laughter from the other men at the table, including Carl and Wil. Jean appeared sympathetic for the poor deer herd, and towards the innkeeper over his stress for the stag.

This also gave Adem time to eat slowly, as well as enjoying plates of cheeses and dried fruit for dessert while the Giant ate lamb stew from a large pot, with several loaves of bread to dip and chew with a delicate grip. Karbul raised his mug in appreciation to Adem. The innkeeper must have explained that the Sons of Odin were paying for his meal and drinks. The Giant then gesturing to the innkeeper that his mug should be filled again. 'Immediately, as I am thirsty!' Old Karbul was saying in a boisterous tone that seemed to make the timbers tremble. The Giant's deep booming chuckles were not unlike the sound of great trees snapping and beginning to fall after being chopped to an edge by a woodcutter. Karbul was huge, mighty and impressive. Adem saw great potential in uniting men such as this for his cause also. He wondered just how many Giants were roaming the Free Lands. Tarz could only estimate that there were nearly a thousand including women and younglings. 'Female Giants can be ferocious warriors also,' Tarz explained. 'A woman Giant with a sword or axe can be a terrifying foe on the battlefield. We realised it would be wiser to direct such potential against Boli-Kuldr and Jacoulra.'

'Another wise choice,' Adem agreed, staring at Karbul as if he were exactly what was needed to oppose the terror of Balor the Corrupt. Karbul was much taller than the current size of the evil Battle Angel. Perhaps even stronger in Jinn-Magic due to the waning Power of all Battle Angels. Adem had already seen evidence that perhaps Jinn-Fendinn also worked to provide Balor with greater strength than his Brothers and Sisters.

He returned his focus to Jean, who had eaten rather quietly and in a noticeably sour mood. Perhaps still brooding over Adem's mourning for Isabelle. She picked at slices of the fine cheeses and ate grapes and dried prunes. Sipping at more wine when a number of performers entered in bright silks. A juggler and a fire twirler, a harp and a flute player, and a pretty Nordic woman with golden locks, in a ruby silk gown sewn with pink pearls. Jean noted the white foxes embroidered upon the sleeves and hem of the gown—Adem knew that was no coincidence. The entertainers had surely heard of the presence of the Saviours at the inn and the woman had dressed to impress by showing off her allegiance—which brought a pleased grin to Jean's gorgeous red lips, lifting Adem's own spirits a little as the pain in his chest lessened.

The musicians began to play. The golden-haired Nordic woman began to sing in a high smooth chant in the Old Nordic Tongue. Words translated by Arawn to Adem's mind as the juggler began to throw and manage seven coloured balls in two circles. The fire twirler spinning sticks of golden flames as the mood of the entire room began to brighten. People began to clap in time with the music or tap their feet, or hands on thighs. Some of the women swaying in their bright silk dresses, faces like ornate porcelain dolls emanating the beauty of immortal kind. The Forsaken men and women around the room in their _ghoda'sidhe_ armour and dark coats, boots and trousers, continued to watch the patrons with wary eyes. Distrustful. Alert. As if they were half starved wolves wondering whether to make a meal of what might otherwise be a potential threat to them or their masters. Adem could do nothing about that, but he had made sure his bodyguards were well fed. Those within the common room and those on patrol around the inn and streets.

He'd even told the innkeeper to send all the stock he could spare of lamb, pork and beef, to be loaded on a cart and sent to their campsite on the edges of the village. So that the others could roast meats over an open campfire rather than resorting to their cold rations. If he could cleanse the souls of these men and women by whatever means possible—even with fresh hot food—he would do everything he could to hold them back from the grip of madness and despair.

The same could be said of Tarz and the men who sat with them at the table, who had eaten their meal as if chewing mouthfuls of ash. Hard faces and eyes lit with that dangerous and wicked glow. Even now their leader sat back with arms crossed and a fierce expression. As if the music could appease him only in the very slightest degree. Soul food and soul music, was there nothing left in this world that the people could still enjoy and appreciate? Music was once the very meaning of the heart and soul of the immortal people. It was their history. Their mind, body and spiritual energies. The expression of their determination, compassion and willingness to fight and endure. If they lost touch with these basic and fundamental principles of cultural experience, it might become very difficult to win them back from Jinn-Fendinn's hold.

'Are you not even able to enjoy yourself?' Jean asked Tarz, as if reading Adem's thoughts via their shared emotions through the _kigare_. Tarz glared back before the fire in his eyes faded a little, and he grinned like a cornered wolf as he replied, 'I suppose you would like to see me prance into a jolly jig?' It was meant as a joke, but Jean stood to take his hand in hers as she said, 'I would be delighted, Lord General.' Looking even more upset than before, a startled Tarz made his way to the centre of the floor with Jean leading. Then the two of them began to dance in a merry style common of Kismeria in the old days. Their rhythm was perfect as they flowed through the steps with grace, despite Tarz's awkward expressions that suggested he wished to be anywhere other than here at this moment in time.

Adem was unsure whether to feel immediately jealous and was perhaps even more so because there was no woman in their party for him to dance with. He looked towards one of the Forsaken women and she glared back as if she would eat his arm off rather than take his hand to dance. Fortunately, a dark-haired Nordic woman saw his unease and offered her hand as they took to the floor. More patrons joined in the dancing, and soon Adem was glancing around to see more relaxed faces even on the Forsaken in the room. Music and revelry were healing their afflictions, it was a small difference, but it was a start.

They were near to ending the second dance when the fireballs began to fall from the sky. Crash landing in a spray of orange flames upon impact with the street surrounding the inn. Forsaken men and women died in those flames without a single scream of pain or torment. Caught by surprise by the attackers, they would not let their deaths be a thing of less honour. Adem knew this as he raced outside the inn. Tarz and the others close behind.

Chapter 11

Evil Angel

The windows were ablaze with the flames surrounding the inn moments before they raced out the front door. Adem creating a Shield-Spell of matter manipulation while the rest followed with Shield-Spheres of Jinn-Magic. The streets were surging with red and golden flames. The front of the inn was burning, as were many of the blue stone buildings on both sides of the main street. A wide beaten path of hard clay that ran through the village's heart.

The men and women inside the inn and other buildings were now screaming in terror of being burnt alive. Honour seemed not so important to them in the face of death, but they were young Nordics mostly. None of them had received the hard training of these Forsaken half-bloods and immortal kin. Honour would still be important to them, but clearly these village folks were truly afraid to die. Adem shouted to the other Forsaken that were exiting the inn, ordering them to rescue the villagers within the inn first, then those in the other buildings. They would need to find an escape path somewhere at the back of the inn, where the flames were not yet as intense as they were here.

Adem looked to the skies to see the source of those attacks. Four massive Krunloc swooped to land knuckles down and on bended red-black knees. Landing with a heavy thud against the path. Beating wings of hot coal in a circle surrounding Adem and his friends. They were followed by Balor. Dark armour with a beard and eyes of hot crimson flame. He landed with a similar thud of heavy boots. Standing only seven feet tall, yet his wings of flame and glowing double-bladed red axe gripped in both fists portrayed a fierce warrior. A serious threat to their diminished guard. Only three male Forsaken warriors remained in their circle: along with Tarz, Jean, Carl and Wil.

They all waited to summon their Battle Angels. Adem had informed them of this via the _kigare_ as the words transferred from Arawn, to Tanriel and his Brothers, then to the minds of Jean, Carl and Wil. Adem could already sense that there was more to this trap, yet he was warned by Arawn that the others were requiring assistance from their Battle Angels to maintain strong enough Shield-Spells to withstand this heat. The four dark rams skulled Krunloc stared with eyes of hot coal, dark muscular flesh burning like magma as each began to wield a sceptre of crimson fire. Around them the flames still oozed from the earth in hot waves, a red and orange-golden dance of scorching spiritual energies that would incinerate human flesh in moments without their defences. Balor and his Krunloc had already taken out over three hundred of Adem's street patrol with the heat of those flames. Even now he saw no survivors, yet that did not mean they were not out there. Forsaken used the night like Dark Elves used their forests.

'Dragon Son of Odin,' boomed the voice of Balor. Terrible and cruel, the sound of a lost soul. 'We come to offer treaty or death.' The axe handle struck the earth as the sceptres of the Krunloc burned twice as bright. A sphere of crimson energies surrounded Adem and his companions. He immediately felt the force of that energy crushing against their Shield-Spells. Soon their defences would shatter. Even his, formed of matter manipulation, was not sufficient.

A warp of Air-and-Fire-Magic before his eyes brought the cloaked figure of the High-Servant, he now knew to be his son, Pendral. Wearing no mask this time, Adem immediately recognised himself in the face of this much older man. Even though his hair was black, as were his eyes, that pierced Adem's soul with a dark hatred and malevolence. Jinn-Fendinn had his hooks in this one _deep!_

'Why do you insist on fighting, Father?' Pendral asked in a tone that nearly matched the sound of Balor. Pendral's voice sounded also to be an attempted appeal, seeking to reach an agreement with the man responsible for his downfall and doom. A dark beard covered the face of the man who Adem knew now must have been around five hundred years old when he gave birth to Adem's grandson, Rayne. Making Pendral now over one thousand years old. He looked no older than a sixty-year-old mortal, slight wrinkles and streaks of grey in his moustache, fringe and beard. He looked like a man in terrible pain, though the severity of his gaze was more than just the hatred of a madman. Those eyes also burned with Angel-Magic of a great Alit'aren. Adem sensed Pendral's capacity in Jinn-Magic to be beyond his own, suggesting his strength in _teron_ would be also. But this was really no surprise, Pendral was his son, and half immortal. Perhaps this fact was what made his son greater than himself. Perhaps this fact would be the reason Adem could not defeat him.

Pendral stood outside the sphere of light. With a raised dark gloved gauntlet, he closed his fist, and the flames surrounding them along the street were vanquished. Even within that sphere and his own shield, Adem detected the distinct stench of burnt flesh rising from corpses all around. Bodies of Forsaken men and women too slow to protect themselves in time, or perhaps too weak in Shield-Spells to deflect the scorching heat. He sensed Jean's outrage via the _kigare_ , though he tried to send soothing emotions in return as he prepared to reason with his son. 'What do you want, Pendral?'

'I want the same thing Jinn-Fendinn has requested of you all along, Adem Highlander,' Pendral almost snarled as he spoke the words, his face contorted in the grip of a mad rage. 'I want to see the Sons of Odin join with Jinn-Fendinn and his armies, in accordance with the Prophecies of the Shadow.

'However, I want this for reasons of vengeance, Father. I wish to see you suffer, as I have suffered for the curse you left behind when you abandoned this world. A curse you gave to me and to my son.'

'Tell me about Isabelle,' Adem interjected. 'Did you murder your own mother?' The mention of Isabelle had a stark effect upon Pendral. He quivered visibly as a forlorn and mad expression crossed his visage. Anger returned as he shouted in fury, 'I did nothing to hurt her! It was not me!'

'People say it was you, Pendral.'

'They speak terrible lies! I would not hurt my own mother, I ... '

'You loved her?'

'That was long ago, Highlander. Another account for your own guilt and suffering as you consider the ways you tormented my poor mother. Never showing her the affection that she desired and deserved. She was forever mooning over your memory. Yearning for the day you would walk back through our door.'

'I could not help being away so long, my son. If I had another choice, I would've made every effort to spend time with you both, and your son, Rayne.'

'Rayne is dead! Long dead and gone. My son is gone!'

'They say you killed him too, Pendral,' Adem's tone was calm but at the same time urging, he wished to reach his son or make him snap!

'More lies of the wicked and insane!' Pendral retorted with outrage. 'My son was a good boy. For the time I got to know him, he was honest and kind and compassionate. Nothing like his father. Rayne's death is more blame for you to accept, Father! You brought the curse upon us! You cursed the line of Dragon-Sword! If not for you, we might never have even been born!'

'I would feel much greater loss if that were so, my son.'

'Do not attempt to lure me into false security with your deceptive words!'

The Shield-Spells were pressed near to breaking as the intensity of the crimson sphere began to pulse and flare in unison with its crushing force.

'We do not have to fight, Pendral,' Adem reached out to hold his son. Even though he was an evil madman. He tried to appeal to this wretched and tortured soul that was evidently too far gone for such efforts to appease. Pendral glared back in open defiance as he shouted, 'Balor has given you your ultimatum. We offer treaty or death!'

Adem breathed the name, 'Arawn.'

Jean said, 'Tanriel.'

Carl growled, 'Math Mathonwy!'

Wil shouted, 'Eledisren!'

This time Adem was not so disappointed with his Battle Angels. The skies began to swirl in a vortex of grey clouds and lightning bolts of crimson, aqua, emerald and gold. They fell like burning lances to strike the Souljhin that began to emerge from the shadows. Bolts of flame vanquishing dozens of the dark cloaked assassins. Forsaken warriors charged into the street in a blur of dark shadows. Crossing blades with more of the deadly demon-men as the four Battle Angels appeared. Tanriel had wings this time. Hovering over ten feet above the street as Flame Spears flew in all directions to punch through Souljhin armour: reducing flesh to charred smoking bones!

Dis Pater, Arawn and Math Mathonwy each picked a Krunloc to attack head on. The three male Battle Angels were each still much shorter than any of these particularly nasty demons. Yet they produced enough force to knock each Krunloc off its feet. The red sphere vanished and Old Karbul appeared from the shadows—with the aid of his Aldebrand cloak of darkness—to hurl a thick blazing blue bar of flame at the fourth Krunloc. Sending it flying through the air, to smash into a burning building and collapse with a heavy groan! A moment later Karbul charged to grapple with Balor. Crimson energies flared from the crumpled wings of the Evil Angel. Karbul held on in a crushing bear hug as a Shield-Spell of blue energies surrounded his own form! Evidently, Karbul knew of alternate spells via Jinn-Magic. Adem considered that perhaps one of the Forsaken had shown him the technique while rescuing villagers from the inn.

Pendral snarled as he drew his sword of crimson fire. Adem unsheathed his blade of emerald flame. Both crossed blades in a blaze of flying sparks and a sound like thunder that emanated from their enchanted steel. Adem found that his son was by far the greater swordsman. His immortal blood made him swifter in his movements, but Adem would not relent. He flowed through the sword forms in retaliation to Pendral's attacks. Fighting back with ferocity and rage to increase his chances of survival. Seeking to find his son's weakness. Pendral leapt into the sky to hover above him, over twenty feet high above the earth. Adem jumped after him, using his grasshopper technique to soar up to an equal height. Jinn-Magic wings of crimson flame burst from his shoulders. Holding him in the air as they crossed blades again. Fire and thunder roaring from the blades.

He had no time to watch the battle below. They moved higher and higher into the dark night sky, both fighting with extreme ferocity. Adem's rage fuelled by the belief that Pendral had murdered Isabelle and Rayne. Pendral fighting back with the raging madness of a man who most likely believed that everyone but himself was evil and deserving to suffer, but his Father more than any other. 'Haven't you killed enough of your kin?' Adem shouted over the thunder of the storm that still raged above them, as they flew through the lightning shower. Pendral raged his reply, 'The blame is yours, Father! The guilt is yours to suffer until you accept despair and defeat! Surrender to Jinn-Fendinn! It is the only way I will let you be free!'

'You are not free, Pendral! You are His slave! I see a madman before me! You could choose to fight back! Then perhaps you might be free once more! Your madness and paranoia hold you in His grasp! That is how He controls you! Fight Him! I have heard that you were once wise and noble and brave. Now you are lost, Pendral!' Their blades whirled and clashed in a blur of red and green. Adem shouted to him in desperation; 'I do not want to hurt you!'

Pendral sneered like a rabid dog before he replied in a cold hard tone, 'Then you will lose, Father.' The blades clashed with immense force. Adem was thrown backwards through the air by a blast of energies. He looked across the darkness to see Pendral swing his blade in a downwards swipe, a blur of crimson like a large boomerang hurled across the gap to strike Adem's Shield-Sphere ... Time seemed frozen for the moment of impact. He saw the red energies collide with his aqua Shield-Spell, cracks formed around the sphere, the red assault found its way through his defences... Incredible heat and pain lanced across his chest, striking the left side, the wound flayed skin and flesh but there was no blood. It was a burning wound, seared and sealed before any blood could gush ... He fell from the sky! Hurtling towards the ground as he used the last of his strength to form another shield, cushioned within to ensure he survived impact with the earth. He looked below to see chaotic energies hurled around by Jean, Carl and Wil, and their Battle Angels ... Darkness and pain ... _I'm sorry Isabelle, my love! I'm sorry Pendral, my son, if only I could change your fate, I would do it! It_ is _my fault. I am to blame for all of it._

He heard Jean screaming his name in terror and outrage, but he could not reach her. He was falling through an endless dark sea of tainted shadows. He tried to swim to safety, but the bones of dead men's claws gripped his ankles, dragging him down into the depths of burning corruption. His soul was journeying to the Underworld. He knew then for certain what he had always known. That he was damned! Jinn-Fendinn would have him one way or the other.

***

Rayne sat at the banquet in the Great Hall of the ancient Nordic city. The scene was one of beauty and elegance. Long tables lined the massive rectangular space, covered with brightly coloured cloths layered with fruits, leaves and vines. It was a merry occasion: they were celebrating the hope of the future. King Rodin sat beside Elarja at the head of the centre table, with Rodin's wife, the beautiful Queen Elizaren Ravenhair seated to his right. The jade eyed woman wore a gown of shimmering emerald, a tiara that seemed to shine with pure energy, and jewels on her rings, bracelets and necklaces. Rodin wore a dark blue robe of velvet over a black Alit'aren coat and trousers. The First King even wore the three enamelled Rohjor pins of the Lion, Wolf and Dragon upon his high coat collar. Rayne later realised this was a sign of great respect to both Rayne and his grandfather, and perhaps to Pendral also.

The hall was filled with music and dancers, jugglers, performers and magicians of the arcane arts. Sorcery to dazzle with flashes, flares, fizzles and sparks of powders and dusts that turned to coloured flames when cast into the air or breathed upon or lit up with a burning branch. There were a lot of fire entertainers, all of them Nordics, and Elarja informed him these were wielders of low potential, seeking studies into the elements purely to entertain the more powerful warriors that protected their lives from the demon threat. Though in truth, the tricks they performed were nothing compared to their true potential. They made Pixies of golden, emerald or aqua light dance upon the tabletops, entertaining the slightly inebriated as they stared with gleeful grins. Some juggled spheres of glowing fire in double hoops that sounded off in musical notes as they whirled through the air with a resonating hum. Others created myriad of shapes, patterns and even animals of blazing flame. Lions roared in crimson red from a blast of light, changing to three swans taking flight in bright azure, to become a school of fish carved of emerald lacework-light that swam in unison to rise and dive in a startling burst of colourful patterns.

The tables were filled with silver and golden platters brought in by waves of Nordic _sei'vani_ , bearing dish after dish of the succulent roasted fowl, pork, beef or lamb. Basted duck in honey sauce with a crispy skin golden brown. Chicken with sautéed onions and mushroom, on and on the dishes arrived with exotic spices and herbs that burst with freshness in the mouth! Rayne ate slowly but with great pleasure. Tasting the wonder of this ancient food that seemed to contain the very Angel-Magic itself. The Children of Odin that were their bodyguards for the journey also sat along the head of the table. Rodin had provided them all a place of great honour at his table. Rievenna sat to Rayne's right with Elarja to his left. His beloved Rievenna appeared to be also enraptured by the tastes, sights and sounds of the Nordic palace. He wondered again at the chance that she was with now with child, as they had tried for many years without success. Many years, as both Rayne and the immortal woman were over one hundred and thirty years old by the time Rayne had been rescued by Elarja.

Rayne's half immortal blood kept him quite youthful in appearance despite his years of experience. Rievenna would continue to appear young and healthy much longer than Rayne due to her full Nordic lineage. The question of why they had been unsuccessful at creating a child had been somewhat of a mystery for those years spent in frustrated attempts. Even the expert Ael Tarael healers could not say for certain whether the problem was in Rayne or Rievenna, or both of them. He wondered now if the incredible health of the ancient world, its rich foods and fluids of vitality, water and wine, would provide the necessary healing in either himself or Rievenna, to bring them a child to carry on the name of Dragon-Sword.

He looked around the hall at the entertainers again. Letting his thoughts drift with the music of drums, flutes, harps, dulcimers and cymbals. Mixed with the songs of Nordic men and women in high transcendental chant and deep and powerful majestic rhythms. The singers created images with their words, as the old Nordic Tongue was translated in Rayne's mind via his Battle Angel. The transition was almost instinctive for him now, and he saw great battles of the ancient world. Incredible feats of creation as the Great Angels forged the seas, earth and skies. The mountains, rivers and valleys, forests of the Great Trees where Druantia and her Green Man husband gave birth to Druantia's Children. Mystical beings of godly powers, nimble long-limbed creatures that appeared half human, half leaf and wood. Whether tall or short, most were slender skin and bones and coated in a rich green lichen cloth and armour of jade leaves. Skin like brown parchment and eyes that glowed bright emerald or dark like black seeds.

Elarja explained during this part of the song, that Druantia's Children were still common in Kismeria during this Age, and that it was their alluring call that summoned the Nordics and Torvellen out of their cities and caves of stone to venture into the forests and woods. There the immortal kin, that would be later known as the Dremelden, learnt of the Elemental Magic of the Children and their forest realms. The nature of trees and leaves and wood. Following the teachings of Druantia and her Sisters of the Forest, Great Angels of Earth, Stone, Wood, and Water. Druantia's Children were also very strong in the enchantments of Fire-Magic. Wielding spells so great and powerful they outmatched even the Nordic bloodline that came to learn from them. It was their interest in Fire-Magic that had first tempted the immortals to seek out the Children, for they longed for greater knowledge to battle against the demon hordes that plagued the lands. Yet the teachings of Druantia's Children were also that of peace, tranquillity in nature, meditation, medicine as well as Wood Lore. Hunting, tracking, archery and the like. From the Children, the Dremelden also learnt to become the most fleet-footed of all the immortal clans.

Rayne was often entranced by the way even Nordics of this Age moved about, they could be fluid and slow if they wished to, and when they chose to stand perfectly still you might believe they were carved from stone. Yet if they chose to move across a short distance using their supernatural speed, to describe it as a blur to the eye would be an understatement. They seemed to simply shift from one point to the next, they were like human sized fairy spirits, beautiful, wise and benevolent. Their very souls seemed to sing with magic—

A tunnel of fire appeared in the air above the tables. High up the emerald marble columns amongst the vaulted gilded ceiling, taking the form of a huge figure cloaked in shadows! Rodin and Elarja sprang to the alert, warriors and Aldebrands began to shout and drew their steel. The twelve feet tall ram skulled assassin raised dark gauntleted fists to strike the banquet guests with bolts of crimson lightning! Red energies flew from the dark gloved fingers of the beast as its eyes burned like caverns of flame within large dark orbs. Rodin struck back, hurling blue lightning at the floating figure as he shouted at the top of his lungs, 'Shadow General in the Keep!' The red and blue lightning flared and clashed: pushing against one another as both sought for dominance. Dozens of men and women were on fire from the first attack. Others sprang into action as Souljhin began to flow in through the side doors. Wicked red blades swinging to cut down Nordics in their path as they sought to reach Rayne.

Rayne had unsheathed his sword at the same moment that Elarja produced his four Time Stones clutched in both fists. The Stones flared with silver light then a sphere of many colours expanded from his fist to encompass the entire hall. Rayne was readying himself to spring for the attack upon this Shadow General when time seemed to stop completely! He paused, poised and about to leap across the air to strike at the enemy, when he looked to Elarja. The man staring back at him with a tense face that was frozen as if in ice. His emerald eyes staring at Rayne's drawn blade as if all hope rested in its powers. Rayne gazed around the room in a daze to see that everyone in the hall had also been frozen in time! He had seen Elarja slow time within a sphere on many occasions, and he knew the man could easily travel through time, but here and now it seemed he had been able to halt time itself!

The first frozen figure he had seen was the Shadow General. His focus had been fixed upon him when the phenomenon first occurred. He looked to the dark ram skulled beast again. Blade of valour burning bright blue. He leapt, through the air with Wings of Odin flaring from his shoulders to hold him aloft as he drove the blade deep into the chest plate of his enemy! Bolts of liquid-blue lightning surged from the blade. A flash of brilliance and a sound like thunder tore the air! Blue fire ruptured through the armour and flesh of the shadow creature. Even though time was still frozen, Rayne thought he could hear the sound of the beast wailing in terror before its body exploded in a shower of brilliant light and a spray of darkness, as its soul seemed to vanish in the air. He then unleashed bars of blue flame infused with the ancient might of Angel-Magic of this Age. Vanquishing the dozens of Souljhin that stood frozen around the room. Some with blades locked against Nordic or Torvellen warriors. Each assassin was obliterated by the force of his attacks.

He hovered there, looking in horror at frozen flames licking the flesh of men and women at the tables below. He managed to quench those flames with a crushing gesture as he waited for time to return to normal—

Another tall dark and hooded shadow form appeared before him. This time, it was Death! Calliach he realised moved beyond time and space. He could not only reach Rayne through any time in history, it was proven now that Death was also impervious to Elarja's time manipulations. Rayne was frozen in terror, not knowing what to do. He had heard of the terrible effects his grandfather had had upon the Doorway between Life and Death when Calliach was wounded several times by Adem Highlander's Odin Spears. Rayne could easily get rid of Calliach here and now with a similar spell. His fear was how that would affect their journey through demon lands if those creatures became immortal, impossible to defeat!

Calliach lowered the great burning scythe blade. As if the Angel of Death could sense his conflict and seemed also cautious of Rayne's potential to do him serious harm. When Calliach spoke, Rayne's blood felt cold as ice, he shivered as if the room was filled with the souls of the dead, yet he heard those words clearly. 'How will we play this game, Rayne Dragon-Sword? You will try to hold me back from my duty. But I will return for you, again and again, until you are returned to the spirit realm. There can be no two ways about it, the timelines must be repaired. Your escape from death has already caused many ripples that may bring chaos beyond imagining. Give in to destiny, Dragon-Sword. It would be easier for both of us.' The scythe slashed in a half circle of crimson fire around the shadow figure. A symbol of power and ward against Rayne's own magic. Rayne pointed his sword at the heart of Calliach, the blade beginning to burn with the light of an Odin Spear, summoned but not yet unleashed. Calliach hissed in fury at the insult, but Rayne spoke up, asking; 'Can we make a deal?'

'Death makes no deals!' Calliach retorted, the sound sweeping over Rayne like a thousand wailing ghosts in the torment and agony of eternal damnation.

'Call it a bargain then,' Rayne replied with a grin, wielding the threat of the Spear while knowing it would only take one swipe of that scythe to cut his soul from his flesh. 'A pact. To ensure our own safety, and survival.'

'You will not survive very long, Dragon-Sword,' Calliach sounded tense, but half amused. Yet there was a promise in that threat, the cold malice of the end of life. A frozen claw clutching at his heart. He looked within the shadowed cowl and saw the bone white skull of Death staring back. Orbs of golden-orange flame burning within those large dark eye sockets. 'Tell me of this bargain, and I will decide if we can both benefit; either that or we shall fight it out. Know that if you defeat me now, I will simply return again to hunt you down. There is no escape.'

Rayne knew that was truth, yet the fact that Calliach had not yet taken his chances while Rayne slept, for example, was proof that there were limits to when and how he hunted his prey. 'I will surrender to your will, when and if I decide that I have done all I can, and that my purpose is complete. If you give me this time, I will refrain from using my powers against you.' The blade shone brighter in response to his words, a kind of threat of his own to show that he would use Angel-Magic if necessary, to survive.

'You drive a hard bargain, Dragon-Sword. My Master will not be pleased.' Death sounded terribly vexed, yet he paused again as if in consideration, before the dark cowl tipped in a strange and eerie bow. The scythe sweeping sideways as the figure leaned over in a grand gesture before he replied, 'I accept!'

'How do I know you will keep your word?'

Death placed a claw of white bone against the left side of his chest as if scandalized by the question. 'I am born of the Great Angels, Rayne Dragon-Sword. I am a spirit of honour and duty. In this case, honouring my word to you will take precedence over my duty to the Master. When your quest is done, call for me and I shall appear. But be warned, Dragon-Sword. Do not wait too long, for if you attempt at shirking our bargain, I will arrive when you least expect, and your soul will be mine.'

'Where will I go when I go?' Rayne asked Calliach as he sensed that the Angel was about to depart.

'I cannot say. It is not my story to tell, that choice belongs to the Master. Your eternal destiny is forged by the way you live your life, Rayne Dragon-Sword. If you do not wish for a bad afterlife, be good in this life. Good to those that serve and fight for you, do not kill your fellow man unless there is due cause. Protect the innocent, fight for justice. I can tell you it has worked for others. It just might work even for you, Dragon-Sword. Even though you are cursed and the son of a corrupt madman who holds the fate of the world in the palm of his hand.'

'My father was a good man!' Rayne shouted with tears filling his vision. 'He did all of those things. He fought for justice, peace and to protect the innocent!'

'Not anymore,' Calliach replied as his form began to melt back into nothingness. Before he vanished, Rayne thought he saw that pale skull grinning back at him.

***

Jean roared with fury! Hurling a beam of emerald flame at Balor the corrupted Battle Angel. The incandescent fire struck the taller figure's Shield-Sphere of crimson, but the force of Jean's attack still sent the Battle Angel flying through the air. The Giant Alit'aren, Karbul, had been overpowered by Balor only moments before Jean threw her attack. Now Karbul was staggering with uncertainty as two of the Krunloc charged towards him from both sides.

Karbul reacted, both fists moving out on either side with arms at full stretch. Beams of blue energy burst from his knuckles. Driving both enemies hurtling backwards. Massive hooves skidded in the dirt. Wings of magma beating against the air to reduce the impact of the blasts.

It was at that moment that time suddenly stopped ... Jean could only describe it in that way! Everywhere she looked, time was standing still. Every single figure standing around her was glued to the spot as if carved from lifelike stone.

She turned to Adem in desperation. He had crash landed moments before, his Shield-Spell preserving his form on impact. But that terrible burn against his chest had taken its toll. She immediately searched for a way to reach him with Jinn-Magic. There was apparently no known way to perform Healing-Magic with the Jinn Arts. _Terael_ was still out of her reach, although she could still sense it faintly both within her soul and all around her. She needed Carl's knowledge. He would be the only one capable of finding a way to help Adem. With his ancient knowledge of Angel-Magic he was their best chance at discovering a way to provide Healing-Magic with the Jinn Arts.

Adem was deathly pale. Her sense of him through the _kigare_ was that he was nearly lost to her completely. He was fading from this world, as if he were truly near to death! She knew she should be using these precious moments to take out the enemy where they still stood around her. But her concern for Adem was desperate. Finding a way to bring him back to health was their best hope of survival here and now. She did not think she could even destroy a Krunloc or Balor even if she attacked while they were frozen, blind and unaware.

Carl was standing close by, frozen solid like the rest of them. She moved to stand beside him, placing her hand on his shoulder. She tried to shake him into awareness and animation, but it was truly as if his flesh were made of solid rock! The realisation then struck her that Adem's form had been soft, so he was not frozen like the rest of them. But his heart had not been beating! She ran back to kneel and place a hand over his chest as she worked flows of the Jinn into his heart. Jinn-Magic similar to Fire-and-Earth-Magic to try to kickstart his heartbeat.

It worked! She shuddered with elation as his breathing returned, so shallow yet enough to detect an even rise and fall of his ruined chest.

She cried out to the air, 'Elarja, is this your handiwork? Where are you? Speak to me if you can hear me! We need your help!' There was no reply. Time remained frozen still. She glanced around at the battle again, deciding her better hope was to use this time to her advantage. Her Battle Angels were of no use to her, as they too were all still as stone.

Then she noticed something strange. Tanriel had moved! Jean realised that her Battle Angel was now pointing in her frozen stance. Tanriel's eyes of blue fire shone with urgency, staring directly at Jean. Following the direction of Tanriel's pointing finger, she saw that it was directing her to the two Krunloc on either side of Old Karbul the Giant. 'You want me to take them out?' Jean asked Tanriel who hovered motionless in the dark night sky. With a shrug after no reply, Jean turned to face the Krunloc again. This time she wielded Jinn-Magic to create twin Hellfire Sabres! Blades of crimson brilliance were unleashed from her fingertips—as corruption drenched her soul with a desperate urgency that was near to overwhelming as she gritted her teeth in disgust—with each of her hands sending a blast that struck the frozen demons. Impacting with a sound like rock splitting: the two figures began to melt into piles of burning slag!

She had the capacity to do something vital here she realised, turning to dispatch the other two Krunloc in the same manner. Those two had been in a contest of energies with Dis Pater and Arawn. Balls of golden and crimson lightning frozen in time between the figures until the Krunloc began to melt: their red energies vanished.

She left Balor where he stood. She could not find it in her heart to test whether she was able to defeat him. It truly broke her heart to see a Battle Angel in service to Jinn-Fendinn. If Adem decided he wanted to kill Balor, she would leave that up to him. Instead she focused on the Souljhin standing around her in the street. Many of them in stances of swordfights against Forsaken warriors. Harnessing crude flows of Jinn-Magic—vicious corruption scorching her mind and soul—she unleashed a storm of Acid Javelins upon the dark cloaked assassins. Crimson Hellfire split through the dark armour of the Souljhin: flesh and bones melted under the corrosive liquid that burst from each weapon! So, she had learnt an effective method of taking down Souljhin now also! Most were exceptionally impervious to Angel-Magic. Hellfire Acid ate away their flesh and bones to leave a bleeding and hissing mess where they had stood moments earlier. She would have to teach that one to the boys.

Suddenly she was aware that time was moving again. She quickly formed a Shield-Sphere, feeling Tanriel become awake again as her Battle Angel reinforced the strength of her defences. Jean turned to see Balor swinging his axe as golden-orange fireballs burst from the weapon. Flowing towards Jean like a tidal wave of destruction! She held up her arms as if that would increase the strength of the Shield-Spell. Arawn, Dis Pater and Math Mathonwy moved sluggishly in a slow-motion charge towards Balor. Their weapons flared with energy as time returned to normal. Everything happening in a blur as the three male Angels crossed the distance the moment Balor vanished in a retreat. Jean looked about frantically in search of more Souljhin. Forsaken were pouring into the street by the hundreds now. She felt secure enough that it was over.

'Carl!' she cried, rushing to kneel beside Adem. 'You have to do something! If anyone can save him, it's you! Find a way to help him, Carl, bring him back to me! I can't bear to lose him, and if he dies, you know we can't win!' Tears were gushing from her eyes. Carl approached as a shadowy blur. He also knelt beside Adem to place a hand over the wound. The emotions could not be held back now that the danger was over. She trembled as the tears flowed. Covering her face with her hands to wipe her eyes clear.

'Let's get him to a soft warm bed first,' Carl suggested. Forsaken warriors moved to lift Adem's body and carry him off towards a suitable house, beyond the buildings that were still burning. It was a village White-Witch that offered to take them in when she saw Adem being carried through the street. Telsa the Crow she named herself. A raven-haired Nordic who appeared old even for an immortal. Lines around her black eyes and grey streaks through her fringe. She wore a blue robe with the hood removed and a silver necklace of twin snakes entwined around the Cross of Christ of all things!

'Yes, White Snow Fox,' Telsa had said to Jean when the White-Witch noticed her eyes bulging at the necklace. 'I am a Christian. Though I follow the old gods also within my studies of medicine and healing. I do not have the ability to mend his scorched flesh, but I have herbs and ointments to soothe the burn and reduce the chances of infection. Unless you can discover a way to revive him soon however, I fear he will be lost to us.' Telsa spoke these words after pressing her fingers against the burn, then placing her palm flat against Adem's chest as if sensing his injuries with what magic she was capable of. 'That wound is beyond simply Hellfire and scorched flesh. It is an evil enchantment, corrupting his very soul. I fear this will infect him permanently, despite any hope you might have of bringing him back to health here and now.' Telsa then went to the front of her shop to fetch the herbs and ointments while Carl leaned over Adem with his left hand pressed to Adem's chest. 'The White-Witch is correct,' he said after a while. 'I may be able to save him, but that wound is something different. It is a taint worse than the corruption on _teron_ itself. Fortunately, it is something I can study. If Pendral had used his matter manipulation to wound Adem, it would be something too foreign for me to understand.' He gestured to the wooden chair beside the bed. 'Take a seat Jean. Get comfortable. This is probably going to take all night.'

Jean sat and began to take a better look at her surroundings, wrapping her arms around her knees, anxious and disturbed. This was apparently the only bedroom in the Widsom's home. The front of the shop that they had passed through to enter the bedroom was filled with strange jars of liquids, potions and even preserved frogs, lizards, birds and insects. She even saw a jar especially for eyeballs. Sheep eyes she assumed. There was only one lantern burning in the front area on the wooden desk that stood before the jars and hanging dried herbs and other things the White-Witch obviously liked to keep out of reach of the customers. There was an amber lamp glowing on the small dresser beside the bed, on the far side. Jean stared nervously at the shadows that moved in the flickering glow against the thatched straw roof. Rough wooden beams standing in twin triangles with more herbs hanging to dry that reminded her of plucked chickens in a butcher shop: shadows making their shapes only suggestive. 'You didn't ask what happened,' she said to Carl as he gripped the black spear. Formed like dark glass and glowing with red light that increased slowly as he worked at either Healing-Magic or searching for a way.

'What do you mean?' he asked without looking her way. His attention still fixed on Adem's form, his patient now breathing more visibly with an even rise and fall of his chest.

'None of you wondered where all the demons suddenly disappeared to,' Jean said, staring up at the shadows again as she pulled her knees closer and hugged them tighter.

'I saw,' Carl replied, still not looking in her direction.

'You _saw?'_ Jean asked in stark wonder.

'I think we all did,' Carl said. 'Time had stopped, we could not move. But we could still see that you were able to move about freely. I could only see you when you stepped into my view. But I heard you. Felt you touch my shoulder and try to rouse me.'

'What do you think made it happen?' Jean asked. 'Could it have been Elarja RinHannen?'

'I don't know how else it could have occurred,' Carl replied. He paused, and looked at her as he said, 'You did very well, Jean. I'm certain Adem will be very proud of you when I tell him what you did for him. How you saved us all.' He smiled sadly after those words, returning his focus to his patient.

'So, you think you can save him?' Jean asked, fearing any answer other than a definite 'Yes!'

'I'm sure he will survive, Jean. I just don't know for how long. This infection, it will change him. Corrupt his flesh in the same ways Jinn-Magic infects his mind, just as the Jinn Arts will do now that we are forced to wield them. Also, I can sense that this Jinn-Magic is some kind of curse upon his soul. I imagine Pendral is an expert on such matters.'

'What if he returns?'

'We are well guarded,' Carl said.

Tarz stepped into the doorway to ask, 'How is he doing?'

'Wait outside,' Jean said dismissively. Tarz raised a dark eyebrow before he moved back out of view. Telsa appeared soon after with arms loaded with jars of oils, ointments and herbs of both a sweet and those of a pungent raw aroma. With Carl's approval she mixed the herbs in hot water and poured tiny amounts past Adem's lips. Apparently even some on his tongue would have a reviving effect. She set to treating the wound with a paste that she rubbed in forcefully and even touched a smear of it under Adem's nose across his top moustache. Adem had not shaved for a few days, and his dark stubble was starting to appear as a thin beard. Yet his moustache was trimmed and cut close to the skin, he no longer wore such a heavy thick amount of facial hair. The triangle from bottom lip to chin was also cut quite thin. He still looked as handsome as the first day she set eyes on him, and she recalled now how her heart had melted over his nervous smile and eyes like burning blue ice.

Please wake up, Adem. I can't do this without you.

Shienden roared in outrage as he circled the White-Witch's house from the sky. He had returned not long after time returned to its normal flow. He had continued to scout the town from above.

'His pet dragon sounds mighty distressed!' Telsa said to Carl.

'Shienden considers Adem to be his Father,' Carl admitted. 'I'd say he would be furious. Tell me about that cross you wear. You said you call yourself a Christian?'

'There are many that follow the wise teachings of your Holy Bible, your stories of Jesus Christ that you left for us to study. The Holy Cross is a symbol of power to defend against Nightwalkers.' Carl seemed baffled by those comments, but then he asked Telsa, 'Do the vampires from Nordhel cause you threat or harm?'

'The Lady Hayley keeps most of them in check,' Telsa replied with wide eyes. 'There are sometimes those that turn feral, craving human blood they flee the Hive and head south seeking victims. It is the Southland vampires that are the real terror in this world. Thank the gods that they are unable to invade our lands. Sunlight is still too damaging to their flesh, even in the grey winter storms. Prophecy says they shall invade again during the Ragnarök Battle. When the clouds of Kerak'Otozi swell and flow to cover the Free Lands as they did a thousand years ago, at the Dawn of the Age of Chaos.'

'Do you know a lot about the prophecies?' Carl asked with interest.

'It is a part of my training to become a White-Witch,' Telsa said as she continued to work the balm over Adem's burn that stretched from his left shoulder. Across his heart and down past his ribcage to abdomen. The scorched flesh was ghastly in the air, and the wound was pitch black with no sign of improvement despite the work Carl was attempting. 'White-Witches are a village trade for low level wielders. Before _terael_ was lost from the world I had some ability to wield Healing-Magic, yet I know nothing of such abilities via the Jinn Arts.

'I am watching you, studying what you are doing to him. It is a complex series of spells via the Jinn Arts. You purify the Angel-Magic as you work them into his flesh and spirit. After that they vanish from my sight. Are you converting them back to Teron-Magic?'

'Something similar to that,' Carl said with a frown of concentration. 'But _teron_ is still out of my reach. It is the Jinn Arts that I wield, though you are right that I am altering that magic. Purifying is an adequate explanation.'

'You are perhaps the wisest wielder in all of Kismeria, Carl Wilder!' Telsa said as if in shock. 'I had heard the legends of your miraculous knowledge and ability. I still would never have believed what you do now is possible unless I was here to witness it.'

'We all have time to learn something new,' Carl said in polite tones.

'Yes, but such knowledge is precious and vital!' Telsa said anxiously. 'You must teach others what you know so that others can then be taught. The learning will spread until we are better equipped to deal with our conditions of damnation.'

'We are not damned yet,' Carl said in a determined way. Jean considered the comment by Telsa and asked her; 'Do the people of Kismeria believe they are being punished?'

'There are theories that the Lord God is displeased with us. Some believe this is the reason Angel-Magic was taken away from us, to punish us for our failures. For this reason, the Christians pray to the Son of God to grant us Angel-Magic once more, and to restore the Great Angels to their former might. So far it is to no avail. Christ's Power is only slight in this world, yet it seems to grow as his followers increase in number.'

'That is possible,' Carl offered in return to her theory. 'But if God was capable of returning Angel-Magic, I believe he would do it. I think it has to do more with matters here. Pendral's Komputah more likely. If he created it, he could have altered its programming. In whatever manner it need be achieved.

'I cannot trust an omnipotent device that is created by a man so mad and terrifying. A man who willingly serves the Shadow.'

Jean sat forward, suddenly stunned by Carl's words. 'I think you're right! What else could be so powerful that it could control Angel-Magic across the entire continent? We have to crush the source of Komputah's energy. It is surely a tool Pendral and Jinn-Fendinn would be using against us!'

'Remember that Jinn-Fendinn sees through our eyes, and He hears what we say,' Carl said as he gazed at her with concern. 'Try not to plan too far ahead. Or I think Pendral and Balor might return to take another shot at us while we are so unprepared.' Tarz appeared in the doorway again to say, 'The Giant watches the front door.'

'Who's watching the back door?' Jean asked with scorn.

'Hundreds of my warriors have this building surrounded,' Tarz said with confidence in his dark eyes and tone of voice.

'A lot of good they did when the fireballs hit the street!' Jean replied.

'I have the entire legion scouting this village and surrounding areas, Snow Fox,' Tarz said in irritation. 'Perhaps the Daughter of Thor would like to give me a more direct order, as I live to serve her commands?' That wolf's grin touched his face as he waited for her reply, to which she simply said, 'Wait in the hallway and don't disturb us again unless I summon you, Lord General.' Tarz vanished with a look of being vexed to the point of internal scars. But before he left, he said to Jean, 'My people are strong and quick witted. I train them as best as I am able, but they are not invincible. No one is so strong and talented that they cannot be defeated by another. They were caught by surprise and attacked by a force greater than their own abilities could withstand. I cannot promise that there will not be more lives lost. I just do what I can to ensure the Saviours are there to fulfil the prophecies at the Ragnarök Battle.'

As the tall dark armoured figure moved out of view, Jean thought to herself, _I surely hope that one is telling the truth. If he turns out to be crooked, I'll skin him alive before I'm done with punishing his hide!_

In a moment of guilt, she called him back to say, 'Tarz?'

'You summoned me, Snow Fox?' he replied as he stepped back into view.

'I enjoyed the dance,' she admitted with a smile.

'I did too, Jean Fairsythe. You dance quite well, for a mortal.' Those dark eyes of his burned with emotion, relief, gladness, but the flames of near madness were forever hiding in plain sight.

***

Wil stood guarding the front door of the White-Witch's shop. Doing his best to question the Giant as the figure towered over him as a dark shadow. Bearded face traced by slivers of moonlight to reveal a grim determined expression. 'I try not to get involved with the matters of the world,' Karbul was saying in a tone like gravel being scraped over steel. 'I have kept the peace at the village inn as my duty to the innkeeper. He returns the favour by filling my mug and bowl every evening.

'I came to the Free Lands on the first ships of the Great Invasion, the Conquest as we named it amongst our clans. A Giant that could wield _teron_ was considered valuable to the Honds and other clans that sought to seize these lands for themselves. Though we are rare, more often the strength of a Giant is in their ability to exert pure force of muscle and bone.'

'I can certainly appreciate that,' Wil said with a nervous grin, gazing up at the figure and wondering at the chance of upsetting Old Karbul with the wrong tactic of inquiry. 'Would you be interested in submitting your services for a greater cause?' The Giant raised a thick grey eyebrow in question. 'I saw what you are capable of. With the failing strength of our Battle Angels, we could really use someone like you in tight situations, especially against Balor.'

'It is a great tragedy to see a Battle Angel turned to the Shadow,' Karbul agreed. 'Service to the Sons of Odin would be a worthy and noble calling. I fear the strength of Balor will prove to be a match greater than I could contend with, however. He displayed abilities that were beyond the capacity of his virtuous Brothers and Sisters.'

'Our Battle Angels are getting stronger too!' Wil said, anxiously searching for a way to win this argument. 'They will assist you, and although Balor seems to be getting stronger also, the Battle Angels are apparently becoming something close to mortal flesh and bone. I believe you are an even match for him. With your ability to wield Jinn-Magic, you might even be just what we need to defeat him!'

'I do not relish the concept of being responsible for destroying a Great Angel.' Karbul sounded reluctant to be convinced of such duty.

'You could at least serve as our bodyguard,' Wil said in earnest. 'I'm sure Adem will grant you whatever you desire. Wealth, luxuries, even a place of high office!'

'You think your Highlander will recover from his injury?' Karbul sounded utterly uncertain of that possibility, but Wil grinned and replied, 'Adem will be just fine. He won't be beaten by a single battle. I'm sure he'll be back on his feet in no time.'

'And you say Adem Highlander will provide me a place of honour in the ranks of his forces?'

'If you prove more than useful in protecting us against Balor and his cronies, I think Adem would give you any title you might ask for!' Wil was emphatic in that claim. Old Karbul seemed to be mulling it over with slow rhythmic grumbles. 'But who will protect the village folk?'

'When the Sons of Odin, and the Daughter of Thor are around,' Wil said with some gusto, 'the problems of the world are sure to become greater than the potential harm to one village. You could serve a much greater cause by joining us than you would if you chose to stay here and watch the inn.' The Giant made more pondering sounds before he grunted, offering his huge hand for Wil to shake. 'I gladly accept your offer, Wil Martyr!' Wil gaped at the huge open hand that was bigger than a shovel. He put his comparably tiny hand into Karbul's to find the Giant's grip was surprisingly delicate. His skin was thick, course and rougher than bark. Wil smiled nervously as he said, 'I welcome you, Karbul the Giant, into the service of the Saviours of Kismeria. My friends will be more than pleased when I give them the good news!'

The alert faces of the Forsaken standing guard appeared to brighten over this. Dark garbed men and women that were still visibly on edge over the recent attack. Their honour would be blemished severely by the apparent failure of their brothers and sisters. In Wil's opinion they had all done their best. He was certain the survivors would have exerted some serious force if Jean had not found herself responsible for saving them. That act by Jean most likely also filled them with shame, for their honour was so closely connected to their duty as protectors of the Sons and Daughter. After a few more kind words exchanged with Karbul, Wil entered the front door to discover what state Adem was now in. He could sense a great struggle for survival in Adem's mind and spirit via the _kigare_. Adem would recover though, he was certain of it.

Everything depended on that.

***

Adem still struggled in the dark sea of shadows. Fighting to swim to the surface where a pale light glowed through the darkness. Skeletons of dead souls kept on grasping at his heels to drag him back, deep under the abyss of the Underworld, crimson fires burning far below. A swirling mass of magma in a vast pit that emanated intense heat and a corruptness that spoke of Jinn-Fendinn and his demonic subjects. Surging in the cataclysmic torment of Hellfire.

He did not want to meet such a fate, and as yet he had been able to avoid being pulled that far down. Yet he had no ability to protect himself other than his own bone and sinew, using his waning strength to struggle free from the clutches of the damned that sought to draw him into the heart of hell.

He heard Jinn-Fendinn's laughter echoing through those shadows. Figures of charred bone hissed with corrupt glee as they continued to swim after him each time that he attempted escape. Hundreds of cursed men, thousands perhaps. It seemed that there was more each time he broke free and swam for the surface. He had not yet reached closer than halfway up through the darkness until he was dragged back into the depths.

_He tried everything, Angel-Magic of_ teron _, his matter manipulation, there was nothing at his disposal. Even his emerald sword had vanished from the waist belt of his dark coated ethereal form, his body fading and becoming transparent the more time he spent in this cursed realm. He knew if he was not able to escape soon, those servants of hell would take the last of his strength. He would be helpless to resist as he made his descent to Jinn-Fendinn's lair. He also knew that the suffering in that realm would be eternal and unbearable. It would at least last as long as time itself, until Jinn-Fendinn broke free from his prison. Adem was responsible for making sure that never happened, yet Pendral's attack had threatened not only Adem's life, but the fate of Kismeria and perhaps all of space and time!_

Existence was at threat!

He kicked savagely at the skull of a pale boned figure and the dead soul lost its grip. He swam upwards once more with the determination and responsibility of it all weighing upon his mind like an avalanche of molten stone. Yet he found new strength in that sense of purpose. He understood the importance of survival. Not just in the hope of avoiding damnation for a little while longer, but also for his direst wish to please and appease his Lord God. To find forgiveness and redemption by completing the prophecies and defeating the threat of Kismeria's eternal doom and destruction! He could not fail! He would not fail!

His desire to be with Jean again also carried him higher through the shadows. The dark mire was thicker than oil and reeked of a foulness against the soul, yet the image of Jean desperately waiting for his return also filled him with new hope rather than a simple desperation to continue living. He glanced down to see waves of those servants of hell surging up through the dark sea. He kicked frantically at his surroundings that were suddenly becoming more like a thick gel. He wanted to scream in terror as their dark eye sockets seemed to gleam with Hellfire in their pale skulls, that were charred and blackened in patches, as if their flayed and scorched flesh still clung to their bones in places.

Jinn-Fendinn's tortures were their long-endured suffering, and each cursed man wished deviously to share that fate with the Blue Water Dragon.

_Then something changed. A fraction of power returned to him, and even though it was only Jinn-Magic, he was able to use it to assure his escape. Hellfire Wings of Odin flared from his shoulders like crimson acid, yet he altered the Angel-Magic to make them burn pale blue! The wings carried him soaring up through the darkness towards the pale light of the surface, and Jinn-Fendinn roared with outrage at his potential escape. Adem heard Jean calling his name from the surface. He also sensed that this surge of the Jinn was the result of his physical form receiving Healing-Magic to some extent. He knew it must be Carl's efforts as only he would have such knowledge. He felt that it was true via the growing connection of the_ kigare ... Adem sat forward in a cold sweat. Breathing in a frantic pant as his eyes searched the gleeful faces staring back at him. In the pale amber light of a small and otherwise darkened bedroom.

Carl leaned over him with eyes that searched his own for something more than merely recovery. Jean leant forward to hug his neck, as the fire of his terrible burn flared up across his chest. He felt there also a corruption that was deeper and more permanent than the actual wound. He winced and groaned as Jean released her grip to say, 'Oh! I'm so sorry, Adem, my poor darling! But I'm glad you're awake! I was more than half terrified that you would not recover. We were all so worried about you!'

'I'll be fine, Jean. Don't worry yourself,' he said it with a soothing tone, as he tried to move his legs over the side of the bed to stand. Pain in his chest hit him like a charging bull of magma striking against his flesh. He cried out in sudden shock and anguish as his body fell back against the bed. He heard Jean begin to sob as he stared at the light and shadows dancing across the thatched roof. He breathed slowly as he waited for the pain to ease, when a Nordic woman looked over him to say, 'That balm will take more time to reduce the damage to his flesh, but the wound will begin to scar soon if applied every day.'

'We will require you to join us,' Carl said to the woman. 'You are the only one who knows how to create the balm, and we still don't know how long we will need to use it on him.'

'I would say three to four weeks,' the woman replied, and he later learnt that her name was Telsa the Crow. A fitting name for the way her dark hair flowed around her chiselled face and hooked beak of a nose. Large dark eyes searching his face similar to that of a bird of prey.

When he was able to sit forwards again, Jean and Carl began to explain their new theory regarding Pendral's Komputah. It was during that time that Adem realised their first quest had started to take shape. The concept of finding a way to defeat a force as wide reaching as the internet, that was also fuelled by Angel-Magic, was a daunting thing to consider.

'First we must get to Janeanne,' Adem said as he tested his strength to stand. His legs were not sore, but the pain in his chest made it difficult to get out of a sitting position. Wil appeared in the doorway a moment later to say, 'What about Hayley? We have to get to her too, and my daughter. I'm worried out of my mind about them. Hayley is ... different to how she was when we left her.

'I won't know the whole of it until I see her. We need to head for the Hive as soon as we reach Janeanne.'

'I understand your concern,' Jean said with compassion. 'We will do our best to reunite you with your wife as soon as possible, Wil. Just try to hold on a little while longer. Then we will visit this city of Nightwalkers, though I truly hope that Hayley has not changed too much, or we might find ourselves in very hot water.'

It was nearly daylight when they left the White-Witch's shop and made their way into the street. Their horses were waiting near the door of the hut and Tarz's forces were assembled and ready to ride out. Jean and his friends would be exhausted by the end of the day's ride, but he felt as much as he also saw that they were overjoyed that he had survived. He felt that responsibility again, yet he also felt the corruption of that burn eating into his flesh like a death virus. If they could not discover a more effective form of Healing-Magic soon, he feared he might not survive very long. When Adem saw Old Karbul loping alongside the riders, keeping pace with a gallop, he felt assured that they might yet survive another encounter against Balor the Corrupted. He considered perhaps that this Giant Alit'aren was the only adequate bodyguard against such a terrible foe.

He sensed that the thought was vexing to Arawn. Adem had no words of comfort for his Battle Angel residing within the blade at his hip.

Chapter 12

Fallen Kings

Orion moved through the sword forms, in the coat and trousers of the _torin'sidhe_. Camouflage colours blending with the grass and trees around him as his soul became one with the air, the Aldebrand gift flowing through his veins. His heart beating in a slow rhythm in correlation with the fluid movements of his body. Becoming one with the blade as he also sought the calm of the Tar'deith, the True Flow that any Agnar must seek and know to achieve a true state of unification with the elements. The steel of his sword becoming an extension of himself, the means to cut down his enemies or defend his ground, and that of his dearly beloved wife. Elmira sat on the front porch of their home watching him as he breathed in a slow controlled calmness to increase the focus of his practice.

Tobin joined him nearby on the patch of grassland close to the flowing waters of Red River, the sun shining brightly in a pale blue sky with patches of white clouds. Tobin's blade glowed with a faint emerald light even in the sunlight. Just as Orion's shone pale golden. Tobin dressed in the dark coat and trousers of an Alit'aren, their Aldebrand cloaks flowing behind their forms like a shadow of raven's wings. They were two fallen kings, due to the justice enacted upon them long ago by the Daughter of Thor. With their swords and their status as Alit'aren Aldebrands to their wives, and their names of legend, they retained some honour in this world. This was how they chose to reflect that honour, through diligent training with their first and foremost weapon. Angel-Magic had been denied to them as a weapon on that same day of judgement, over a thousand years past in the histories of Kismeria. Amongst the mortals of this Age that were unable to wield, even those with bones now decaying in the dust, that day had become legend. The day two Immortal Kings and their Queens were cast down from their thrones. Their crowns taken away. Their right to rule their clans obliterated by Jean Fairsythe's justice. Knowing that the other option was almost certainly death, Orion was still grateful for the mercy the White Snow Fox had shown them that day. An example had to be made, and the impact of that judgement caused ripples amongst the other wielders of this world to the point that perhaps a much greater catastrophe had been avoided.

Mad Alit'aren and corrupted Ael Tarael had still caused great hazard and harm to the people and the land, but there were many that continued to obey the decree to outlaw male wielding and also outlaw practicing the Jinn Arts. Many of those wielders were amongst the villagers of Red River. A community that still served Orion and Tobin and their wives as if they were still the rulers of Tarvel and Nordhel, but the four of them did their best to avoid that fact ever being proven. They shied away from those that requested advice, when they really sought an order, although both Orion and Tobin would eventually always give in and offer their expert opinion on a matter. The asker would then reply that it was sound advice, while the former rulers knew in their hearts that this was exactly what the asker would do, as if it were an order from their King. In a way Orion and Tobin were the two unofficial Mayors of Red River. A fact that would certainly displease the Snow Fox, but there was no way to avoid it. The people refused to appoint another, and so the two men continued to bear the responsibility of leadership. Even though this was a matter in direct conflict with Jean Fairsythe's orders.

Nordic children watched the two men practicing the sword forms from a distance. Large eyes staring in wonder as they sat amongst the grasses and flowers, their Aelfin ears twitching at times when they giggled with glee. The children wore simple leathers or animal skin coats and trousers. Trade was scarce in Red River. The economies of most nations were near broke. Families had to survive with what they could source from nature most often. Weavers and blacksmiths were revered as demigods for their potential to restore some sense of order and modernity to society. White-Witches were also considered precious, especially for their medicines and potions in a time where Angel-Magic and Healing-Magic were no longer available. There were leper colonies now, something that had not existed in Kismeria ever before. It was a dark omen, when the ability to restore health became reliant upon mixing herbs and balms, and when cuts could be become deadly via infection. Such a thing was startling to consider in this world. They were losing the war against the Shadow. Jinn-Fendinn was spreading his venomous curse upon all life, the people, the elements, and the land itself. Unless Angel-Magic could be restored, sickness and infection could become the catalyst for disaster. There had always been Alit'aren and Ael Tarael working at Healing-Magic throughout the Ages to reduce such illnesses to the point that they were nearly non-existent. Anyone who became sick was cured by the work of Healing-Magic, even in small towns and villages there had always been at least one who was capable.

They needed a miracle.

***

Elmira sat on the porch in the old rocking chair, Lydia in the one beside her as they watched their husbands change from single practice to facing each other as they began to duel. Hawk Moth Flutters changed into Bear Claw, then flowing into Bull Horn, River Warden and Blood Peaks. Those were Orion's forms, as Tobin defended his ground with Serpent Sway, then Red Ram Charges changing into Icicle Slivers to deflect Orion's Bull Horn attack. They moved with the slow fluid grace of hardened bone and sinew, the two of them almost in a trance like state as they allowed the elements of nature to guide their spirits into the state of calm known as the Tar'deith. While the extra alertness of their Aldebrand training would be providing a heightening of the senses via the gift.

The children watching nearby began to shout and applaud the two warriors. They were tall, dignified and noble, with the prowess of a Tiger and Lion. It was epic to behold. The clash of steel rang out in the morning air as the scents of log fires and freshly baked breads and pies floated on the breeze from surrounding houses. Elmira truly loved her new home, although the luxuries of being a Queen still brought back memories that left her perturbed at the best of times. Yet the rustic little shack her husband liked to call a manor was still adequate for her needs. They were surviving, and the extra strain of raising Janeanne was compensated by the donations of the townsfolk of Red River. Even by those that had no idea the young woman was in fact the daughter of Adem Highlander and Jean Fairsythe.

Janeanne stepped out of the doorway onto the porch. A tall and radiant image of her mother, long golden curls and clear burning blue eyes that bulged with the innocence of a young woman. It had been twenty years since the day Elmira found Jean's daughter as a little girl by the river. Yet Janeanne had still never spent the night with any boy or man during her upbringing, and her inexperience showed in the way she walked and talked with a youthfulness that was almost beguiling to witness for a mortal woman of her age.

It was no surprise really. Besides the fact that Janeanne was extremely beautiful, no boy or young man in town had ever dared to knock on Orion Demon-Slayer's front door, to ask his daughter out on a date. It was really a silent agreement between the four of them. The former rulers knew Jean Fairsythe and Adem Highlander would be devastated that their baby girl had grown up in so short a time. If they then had to learn that she had also been married since her eighteenth birthday for example, well, there'd be hell to pay to say the least.

Elmira loved Janeanne with all her heart. She had raised the girl as if she were her own offspring. Lack of being ever able to bear a son or daughter of immortal blood for her husband was an eternal sorrow for both of them. Janeanne had brought them the joy of a child they had longed for since they were first married.

'I'm done with the washing up, Mother!' Janeanne said, almost bursting with excitement at the dawn of a new day. She was known to be on any morning when the sun was shining. On cold, wet and stormy days her mood was still cheerful, but the sunlight she said reminded her of her real parents. Those early years that she could still recall in some detail. Elmira no longer argued over the title Janeanne gave her. If she wanted to think of Elmira as her Mother and Orion as her Father, Elmira would allow it for as long as it took for her real parents to return for her.

'You look lovely in that dress, Janeanne,' Lydia said, pausing with a white porcelain teacup raised to her chin in delicate fingers. Janeanne wore a dress of pale blue silk, embroidered with white birds and flowers across the breasts, neckline, sleeves and hemline. Elmira had sewn the dress recently after acquiring the silk from a trader who visited Red River. He was happy to make the trade once the old mortal had tasted some of her jams! They could not afford many new dresses for the girl during her upbringing, but they always managed to acquire what was needed when it was needed.

'Oh! Thank you, Aunty Lydia. It is simply fabulous, is it not? Mother I'm so grateful for it. I waited till I had finished washing up the breakfast bowls before trying it on. I don't want to get it worn out or dirty, so I think I'll change back into an older one soon. Perhaps one of those lovely blue woollen robes with the red embroidery?'

'You should wear the dress the entire day,' Elmira said. 'You do look lovely and I like to admire you in it. Orion will like very much to see you wearing it when he finishes his swordplay.'

'Oh! Yes, yes, I want Father to see me in it too! I'm so excited, Mother. It will be only three more days until it is my birthday! Are we still having the surprise party on the village green that day and evening?' Lydia groaned as Elmira made a low growling sound in her throat, before looking to Janeanne with an expression feigning innocent unawareness as she said, 'Party, Janeanne? I'm not sure what you're talking about ... we were planning to have a nice meal at the inn with a few friends. That is all.'

'Oh, never mind the surprise, Mother,' Janeanne said with a grin. 'Selvia Ontorbros overheard the planning by her mother and father the other night. I know all about it. It's going to be just wonderful, Mother. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I will save the dress until then, once Father has had a good look at me in it.' Janeanne then leant forward to kiss Elmira on the cheek before moving back indoors with a cheerful whistle, she was a very good whistler!

Elmira sat back in the chair as a cold fury began to wash over her, and she began to plot just how she might get her revenge on silly little Selvia Ontorbros for not keeping her big mouth shut, and for ruining her very carefully arranged attempt at a surprise for Janeanne's birthday!

'Someone would have told her eventually, dear,' Lydia said, reaching over to lay her right hand on Elmira's left arm. 'You've been planning that party for months now,' she spoke at a careful whisper to avoid spoiling things even more. 'Janeanne will act surprised all the same. That girl can act surprised when you serve up kidney pie on a Freyaday!'

Elmira began to chuckle before she replied, 'Even when they're leftovers from Thorsday!' The two of them burst into fits of laughter, joyous to have a young person to love and adore. Lydia and Tobin thought of Janeanne as more than their niece, she was like a daughter to them too.

They returned their focus to the duel. The two men were moving with fluid speed now. Their movements so swift it would almost blur to the eyes of a mortal. They danced around the field as each man pushed the other to their extremes of attack and defence. Clash of blades growing louder as the golden and emerald steel shone brighter in the morning light. They would be hungry after such work she considered, and so she suggested to Lydia that they begin to prepare lunch.

'What do you have in mind?' Lydia asked, to which Tobin and Orion shouted the reply in unison, 'Anything, as long as it's not kidney pie!'

'Their Aelfin ears must have been twitching when they heard the surprise is ruined,' Elmira said with a sigh. She shouted across the field, 'You could go and catch a few rabbits when you're done! Or it will be kidney pie for supper!' The two warriors recoiled from the forms and raised their blades vertical before their faces in a sign that they were both retiring. Elmira watched them bow to one another before moving towards their homes to fetch bows and quiver. 'And fetch some wild weeds to make a salad on your way back through the forest,' she told Orion when he approached. 'But first go and speak to your daughter. She wants to show you her new dress.'

'Janeanne is not my daughter,' Orion replied gruffly. 'Much to my regret. I saw the dress. Tell her she looks divine. I'll be home in a few hours.' He then marched indoors to fetch his hunting gear. Lydia and Elmira were in the kitchen when he was exiting with his jade green wooden bow in a leather case over his shoulder. 'If you see a wild boar, test your aim and carry it home too,' Elmira said as he moved through the doorway. 'The larder is getting low on smoked ham, and you know how expensive beef is becoming.' Orion paused at the doorway, turning back to reply, 'We'll scan the river for some plump ducks if there are no boar.'

'Ducks are fine, but geese would be better,' Lydia said with a playful grin. 'The way you and my husband eat, we would be better off doing some hoarding before the winter snows set in. Maybe try your luck at a bear, or two?' Orion grunted at the teasing remarks then stumbled across the deck as Lydia and Elmira began to laugh at his dark cloaked back. Orion had always been a very proud man, but she had shaped him into something different after their marriage. Elmira had taught the Old Tiger to love, and to tolerate such quips with a shrug and a sigh. The man she had first met in those days would have likely wanted to turn Elmira and then Lydia over his knee to give them both a hard spanking they would not soon forget!

He soon learnt that such things were never acceptable behaviour after a little of her own personalised tutoring, long before the ban on male wielding. Yet if he tried something like that today and tried to keep his oath to the decree, he would soon find his skin being flayed with bolts of lightning served up by the two women in retaliation. That was not the reason he turned the other cheek every time they made their little jokes or even when Elmira was in a fuming temper. It was because he was a man of great honour also. He had always had deep respect and admiration for women and their rights, and he would never truly have resorted to such punishments even against a woman who deserved it severely. Also, after many years of soothing that troubled heart of his, Elmira had made the Tiger as soft and sweet as a kitten beneath his hard exterior. He was once a great king. It pained him every day to consider his fall from ruling and leadership, yet the honour and duty of kings still burned in the chests of both Orion Demon-Slayer and Tobin Fire-Heart. They would never forget who they were, long ago, when the needs and hopes of the Free Landers rested on their shoulders.

***

Tobin ran through the forest with Orion keeping pace at his side. They were both sprinting with immortal speed, their forms would appear as a blur to the eyes of mortals. They could move faster than mortal horses when they pushed themselves to serious exertion, and they would both be heaving for breath at the end of this. Tobin's keen eyesight scanned his surroundings like a hawk watches the fields for mice. His eyes looked in the tree branches as well as on the path and surrounding shrubs for any sign of wild game. He ran with an arrow notched to his bowstring, as did Orion. Arrow heads pointed down at the dirt as they loped along with the speed of a gale force wind. They were listening also, their Aelfin ears twitching as their senses searched for deer, boar, partridge or rabbits. Tobin's hunger was growing too, and he began to wish that they would chance upon the deer herd that often passed through these woods. They would spare the king stag if he was within range. They needed him to ensure the survival of the herd: to protect the females and their fawns. Immortals would never hunt a king stag even for food. It was considered a bad omen to take out the leader. This had been a rule amongst the clans since the First Age—

As if his thoughts had become flesh, they spotted the herd ahead through the shrubs. Both halting in their tracks with traction that would have sent a mortal flying through the air. Orion and Tobin simply crouched while peering through gaps in the thick leaves, slowly rising with arrows drawn while they set their aim. Both focused on a medium sized buck that was mature enough for them to release the arrows. Tobin's striking the animal directly in the heart, at the same time that Orion's arrow struck the hind leg to reduce its ability to flee. With the arrowhead in its heart the deer staggered and was looking close to collapsing as the others charged off in a startled panic.

They were crossing the distance to intercept the fallen animal when a whistle was heard from the trees. They froze in their tracks, suddenly aware of many eyes watching them. Most with arrows notched to bowstrings, broad steel arrowheads aimed at them from over thirty Dark Elves that had allowed themselves to be seen. Tobin knew enough about this clan to know there would be hundreds more hiding nearby. The oldest looking male Elf lowered his bow and walked towards them to salute as he said, 'I am named Kelflin Dark-Bow. We are passing through these woods. We do not wish to invade or attack your village.'

'I am glad to hear that,' Orion replied. 'I am Orion Demon-Slayer, my companion is Tobin Fire-Heart.'

'We knew you both at first sight,' Kelflin replied with the severity of near madness burning in his dark eyes. All of the men and women wore the _torin'sidhe_ coat and trousers with cloaks that were also made to blend with forest greens, browns and greys. Their bows were obsidian with Lukrorian marble handle grips. Capable of wielding Jinn-Magic arrows of acid or flame, but they would be making a serious threat if any of them were wielding those here and now. Kelflin waved to his companions and they lowered their weapons as he continued to say, 'Even the Eva'Hahlen remember the tales of the two fallen kings. Proud and mighty immortal kin that were undone by the judgement of the White Snow Fox. It is for this reason that we were passing through this region. My kin have recently encountered the Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor journeying in this direction. We were told by the man who spoke with Adem Highlander, that an offer of peace and unity is on the table from the Blue Water Dragon, but that Adem Highlander offers no such surety in regard to Jean Fairsythe and her abhorrence of the Jinn Arts. For this reason, I sought you out. We have known that you reside at Red River with your wives, as you have done for hundreds of years now. I was curious of your opinion of this Adem Highlander. I wanted to speak with you about whether he is a man of honour. A man who keeps his word and his bargains? If you will return to our camp, we can discuss this further. I assure you that you are not under threat.'

'Why surprise us with arrows aimed at our skulls then?' Tobin asked in a careful tone.

'My companions wanted to be sure you were the men we seek, and that you would not attack us on sight. Assuming that as we were Eva'Hahlen within your woods so close to your village that we might wish you and your people harm.'

'I believe you,' Tobin replied, 'but I would prefer if a few of your kin return to Red River with us. There we will talk, and you can tell us of this encounter with the Saviours. That buck will provide enough meat for us all to feast this evening if you agree. What say you?'

Kelflin eyed the dying animal lying in a growing pool of blood before he said, 'I will not make you part with your kill, you deserve the spoils of the hunt. I will escort you back to your village, and we may talk on the way. I must take your words back to my Brothers and Sisters to discuss what plans our clan might make in regard to this offer of peace.' Tobin agreed and soon they were returning to Red River, Orion and Tobin hauling the massive kill with its legs tied to a pole they each carried over their shoulders. Tobin felt the eyes of many more Dark Elves following them through the forest as he talked with Kelflin Dark-Bow. He knew they were just protecting their kin. Dark Elves were unpredictable at the best of times, but the honour of an immortal's word still carried weight with every member of their clan.

Tobin and Orion both spoke of Adem Highlander as a man who is true to his word, yet they also both emphasised that he could be easily persuaded by Jean Fairsythe, and that the fact that they were now married could make it difficult for him to keep such bargains if the Snow Fox chose to argue against them. To this Kelflin asked, 'Who is there that the Daughter of Thor trusts and respects enough that we should befriend them also to help sway the opinion of this powerful ruler?' Both Orion and Tobin grunted at this before Tobin replied, 'There was only one woman who might be able to help you in such a way. But she was a ghost long before the Saviours arrived the first time, and she has been a ghost for the last thousand years since they left us.'

'You mean Terese Sapphire-Sword, the Hero of Will?' Kelflin spoke the words as if they were part of a legend, he was uncertain about whether he should believe in. He fixed Tobin with a questioning glare of doubt when Orion chuckled before he replied, 'Yes, Terese Marheildon. A woman of legend with a spirit of purified flame. Only a being of such calibre could appease the wrath of Jean Fairsythe. I am afraid you would find it equally difficult to win her trust and loyalty.' Kelflin nodded at those words with a frustrated frown. They were then nearing the edge of the woods and the Dark Elf insisted he had learnt all that was necessary, for now. With a wave of farewell the two men watched their immortal kin fade back into the trees to vanish from sight completely.

Tobin knew there would still be some keeping watch in case Tobin and Orion intended treachery, summoning an army to hunt down the Lost Kin and drive them from their forest. Tobin had no such thoughts in his mind. What kept buzzing around in his skull like a giant bumblebee was the news that the Sons and Daughter had returned.

***

Rayne and his companions set out on their journey in the early afternoon of the following day. After those that were to join them had all taken some time to rest following the chaotic events at the banquet. Elarja was unable to explain exactly how he had managed to freeze time in the way that he did. He could only say that he understood the urgency of the situation, and that once again the Time Stones had seemed to act as if they were a life force and intelligence all of their own. Capable of perceiving the best method to act in the time of need. 'I sense that the spell was greater than a normal time sphere also,' Elarja had said. 'It seems that time had stopped throughout the Ages, as if the turn of the planet had halted in that moment, and in every moment from then into the far and distant future we call the present. I can only assume that there was a need for such measures in the present also. That future time where the Saviours have returned. Perhaps they too were able to move about, as you were. To avoid the end of all hope for salvation.'

Rayne was more than anxious to begin the journey. Calliach's promise ate away at his patience. A cold blade slicing down his spine every direction that he turned, the watchful eyes of Death waiting to make his move. The riders assembled in the courtyards of the Royal Stables. Elarja's and Rayne's chosen Children of Odin as well as the chosen protectors from the three clans of this Age. Together they numbered just over sixty riders, including Grom who sat in the saddle before a Dremelden woman with jade green eyes and flowing dark curls. The pair mounted on a pale _altherin_ mare with red reins and a blue leather saddle. Among the Giants that were also to run alongside their horses were the two females. Both Brendas. As well as three males, all of them taller than the women. Formed of thick hardened sinews like tree bark with dark eyes and short forked beards. One of them with hair white as snow, though he was able to run as well as the others.

Soon the company had passed beyond the city walls to move at a gallop across the open fields of vibrant green pastures. Some grasses in pale yellows or bright blues or crimson red, flowers of various colours also dotted the fields and small creatures rushed to get clear of their path. Badgers, rabbits, stoats, foxes, and the like. Some standing on hind legs to peer over the grasses at the riders as if they were a parade put on for their entertainment. The skies were brilliant azure with blazing white sunlit clouds.

A patrol of Aldebrands rode alongside them for a few miles after exiting the city walls. They rode horse sized dragons. The beasts ran on all fours, with hind legs similar to a horse, arms and claws long and shaped like human biceps and forearms. They ranged from obsidian black with eyes of blue pearl, to speckled golden on dark green scales, burning crimson with white eyes, emerald scaled with azure spikes. They were fierce in battle and excellent sprinters for up to ten miles at a time without rest. These creatures were used in charges similar to horse cavalry, sometimes armoured with Aldebrands and Knights mounted and armed with spears and lances that tore holes through demons in bolts of inferno. The riders sat on large saddles across the slightly curved horse-like spines. The saddles strapped between the shoulder-blades and hindquarters. Their tails were thick and quite short with whip like fronds of bright hair flowing from the tips.

They would have served the party well if there were battles ahead. Rayne thought those great eagle sized claws would shred though demon armour with ease. But they would not keep up with the pace of these _altherin_. These ancient purebred horses of Aelfin Magic would outpace these smaller dragons by hundreds of miles within half a day. Speed was needed for this mission, so swift hooves were chosen over might and muscle. Rayne marvelled at the Heki'Shienden as they were called in this Age. Meaning Horse-Dragon. Altherin'Heki was the true Nordic Tongue name for these ancient horses that could run faster than the human eye could see. It translated to Spirit Horses of the Blood of Thor.

The citizens of the palace and city had cheered them on as they passed through the streets towards the main gate, a roar of triumphant hope and glory. Some wielding blasts of light and colour that burst in the sky above to signal the celebration of their journey. Others waved and smiled and shouted their praises to King Rodin and Elarja RinHannen. Brightly garbed men, women and children of Nordic bloodlines filled every window, balcony and laneway as the riders paraded through the city streets. They were beautiful, majestic and energetic people. Magical, proud and dignified. Rayne sensed a part of his own senses awakening within their presence. A rising tide of exhilaration to be surrounded by so many of the First Immortal Kin. Magical beings of ancient forms of Angel-Magic. It radiated in the air like a buzzing swarm of electric eels flying through the atmosphere. Many sang Songs of Aelfin Tongue. Enchanting the air with voices of benevolence and stirring emotion. They danced in the streets, twirled and somersaulted while displaying bright magics. Casting spells to dazzle and delight. It was a festival of spiritual harmony. Peace, hope, faith, love and joy.

The savage roars of much larger dragons were heard overhead when they reached the fields. Rodin was mounted on the great golden Ellanori. Half a dozen other dragon riders soared through the blue skies above. Scanning for demon sign on the fields and paths ahead of the riders. Two were emerald green with blue webbing on the underside of their massive wings. Another had crimson scales and two were black as night. Their dark scales reflecting the sunlight to give them a similar appearance to Shadow Dragons. But these were all willing servants of King Rodin and the Armies of the All-Father.

They would likely encounter some powerful demons on the journey. Rayne was glad to have the protection of Dragon-Flame, yet the presence of the dragons would also draw demons to their location like moths to a lantern's glow. It was a means of protection and possible escape from great danger, yet it placed them at greater risk at the same time. It would seem then plausible that travelling by dragon would be the simpler and more reasonable course of action for the journey. Yet Elarja and the Children of Odin were not experienced at riding dragons. Rayne knew how treacherous it could be, to be in a fight in mid-air with some terrible demon foes that could rip a rider free from its seat straps. To plummet to the earth and to their deaths.

In regard to forming Portal-Spells via Angel-Magic, Rayne had made the attempt on the first night they arrived at the city. He tried when he was closed in and alone in his chamber where no eyes could see the spells. He was unable to create the Portal-Spell, however. Something was blocking the Portal-Magic! Elarja told him later when they spoke in the early hours of the morning that his Time Stones were also malfunctioning again. He feared trying to use them to travel across the land in a single leap. The Stones might take them to another time and place where the hope of success in their intended quest would be lost to them.

Rayne could disguise the Portal-Magic so that the immortals of this Age could not discover how they were made. But even if he were able to create a Portal-Spell successfully, it would trigger a serious investigation into such Portal-Spells by the incredibly wise and powerful wielders of this Age. Discovering the secret to Portal-Magic would likely be achieved in a very short time.

Elarja had warned that this could create dramatic alterations to the timelines, potentially for good or evil. Elarja's Time-Stone-Portals had never triggered an understanding of Portal-Magic for King Rodin and his people during this Age, and indeed, Portal-Spells via Angel-Magic had remained a mystery up until the Age known as the Dawn of the Age of Chaos. When the Sons of Odin discovered ways to warp space in a similar way that the High-Servants had done with Jinn-Magic for thousands of years before then. Travelling Gates did exist in this Age, though Rayne and Elarja had been reluctant to risk the chance that some part of Jinn-Magic could infect them if Rayne passed through one.

As the journey progressed beyond the fields surrounding the ancient fortress and palace, Rayne began to take in his surroundings more fully. The scent of the fresh grasses, pine needles on the breeze of pure clean air that was a delight to breathe into his lungs. His senses seemed to become more alert the more time he spent out in the open. His half-blood eyesight became sharper, seeing every blade of grass and the shine of light on the lakes and rivers with such definition and glow that he wondered how it were possible, as he was at present not holding onto Angel-Magic.

The sound of the horses' hooves thudding against the earth resonated in his ears like Odin's Thunder. The rations they ate when they halted in the afternoon were even more vibrant to taste than the first meal he had tried when he first arrived. It seemed that his perceptions of the world and nature were becoming acute, to the point that he could almost perceive the natural health and goodness of his environment. In this ancient Age where the infections of Jinn-Fendinn were yet latent and without purpose.

This was a time and place of great vitality for the land. When the world was young and filled with the Elemental Magic of the Great Angels and their crafting of the world. Fire, Earth, Air, Water and Spirit were infinitely greater than the state of the world in the Age of Chaos. It was a joy to experience, but it also brought great sadness to consider how this Elemental Power would fade and almost vanish as the Ages turned. Ultimately resulting in the corruption of _teron_ and the curse upon _terael_. In a way it made his hatred of the Shadow grow. In some ways his loathing of Jinn-Fendinn's work became a brooding that reminded him that he too was susceptible to Jinn-Magic. Yet here Angel-Magic was pure and untainted. He could wield it without fear of madness. He also strongly believed that his illness would recede the more time he spent here wielding the pure fires of _teron_.

The land was very different to the modern world also. Almost completely alien to the world he was raised in. There were mountains and rivers here that were fields in the Age of Chaos. Great Forests filled with Light of Great Trees stretched for hundreds of miles across a lush green landscape where wildlife flourished in abundance. He saw many creatures that were extinct millions of years before the Age of Chaos. Enormous four-legged mammals, both carnivores and herbivores. Most had coats of thick shaggy fur, some in striped patterns or splotched with colour. Some had large fangs, horns or plated skulls or hides. There were lizard creatures of similar size and shapes. Most were bigger than modern elephants. They were descendants of the Age of the Great Dragons, that lasted hundreds of millions of years before the Age of Immortals.

Despite knowing that the Age of Chaos changed much of the world due to mad Alit'aren ravaging Kismeria with Angel-Magic, Tohka Reiden advised him that much of this ancient world was reshaped in the not too distant years of the Great Wars of Angel-Magic, between the Great Angels and Jinn-Fendinn and his demons. This was still a time where demon hordes were uncontained. Dominating entire regions that were to become cities and provinces of the Free Lands in the modern world. Here they were barren landscapes where the green fields were suddenly met with blackened charred earth pooled with magma. Stunted leafless black trees crooked and withering like shadow phantoms. Entire regions often inhabited by hordes of the most terrifying creations of the Shadow.

They passed just such a region on the third day of their journey, the _altherin_ horses moving swiftly along the edges of the darkened regions where smoke rose from the charred soils and the scent of sulphur burned in the air. They did not see any demons, as this region was apparently abandoned by the hordes that had ravaged them. Most of the enemy had been wiped out by the wrath of Rodin Cloud-Walker and his dragon riders many years ago. Yet the health of the land was taking a long time to return to the beauty that Odin and his Brothers and Sisters had crafted at the Dawn of Ages. Rodin and his riders still scanned the region from the skies in case the hordes had returned. The riders were soon clear of the dark patch of land and the health of the regions returned to his senses. Rayne knew they would not always be so lucky.

***

Janeanne was making her way through the town with a basket full of jams in glass jars. To trade with the village baker for some bread. The old man was sure to have some cheese on offer also! She was striding towards the bakery when she was met on the path by her three most adored companions. The trio of men who had been the closest friends of Rayne Dragon-Sword. Ragan Lodensare, also known as the Red Jackal, Ellagon Elfin-Blood, and Shaye Eagle-Soul. They were all mortal blood, but the latter two were Children of Odin, of Odin's Return. Ragan was also a formidable wielder, and Angel-Magic had preserved their flesh for over five hundred years. The three of them looking no older than their late forties when Janeanne knew them as a child, yet in the last three years during the absence of _teron_ and _terael_ , these men had begun to turn grey on their heads. Ellagon's golden beard and moustache were also grey tinged. The three men appeared in merry spirits when they met her on the path. Striking up conversation as they followed her to the baker's hut, where the tall immortal stood removing bread from the oven with a large wooden spade.

'That is a lovely dress, Janeanne. Did Elmira sew it for you?' Shaye asked in a polite tone, after they said their greetings. Janeanne spoke to the three at intervals while she bartered with the village baker. There were a number of baker shops throughout Red River, yet this was the closest and also the place where Elmira's jams fetched the best trade. Gelson Bereldore was a grey-haired Nordic, his blue eyes still shone with the light of immortal blood. 'Always happy to trade for your mother's lovely jams, Janeanne,' Gelson said with a warm smile. Janeanne curtsied before handing over the jars, the basket handle hanging balanced over her right arm.

'Yes, it is beautiful, isn't it, Shaye?' Janeanne replied with a happy smile.

'We were just on our way to visit Tobin and Orion,' Ellagon said in a more formal tone. 'We have several matters that need to be discussed. I always like to get their opinion on things before making any sort of serious decision.'

'Does it have anything to do with a surprise birthday party?' Janeanne asked. The three men were deathly silent in response, before Shaye replied, 'Ellagon has a problem with his ... plough, and we would like to know who is the best equipped to fix it at this busy time of harvest. It is an old plough, rusted and blunt, you see, and Tobin and Orion know all the best men for such repairs. Last time we chose Benel MacKormick, and he did a fine job. But now the blades need sharpening again, and well, we decided we had better get someone else this time.' Shaye spoke as if this matter were the utmost truth and the only reason for their wanting to speak with her father and Tobin, but Janeanne was not stupid. She knew they would need to speak to the former rulers about preparations for her party! How many barrels of ale and wine were in stock? Who was out hunting for meats to roast on the spits? What pies and other sweets were on the list to be baked? And who was making the surprise birthday cake!

It would be a grand party to be sure. She wondered when they would start hanging the coloured lanterns over the Village Green, and whether her mother would allow her to spy on the men setting up the tables and chairs for the banquet. She sensed the men were nervous about her knowledge of the party. Most likely fearing her mother Elmira's wrath if any of them gave away any further clues, so she changed the subject. 'How have you three been getting along, these past three years? Especially while Angel-Magic has been absent.'

The men seemed to stumble in their steps, Shaye using his crimson spear—formed of pure gold—as a walking stick as he always did. Ellagon traced the head of his golden axe—once the Resting Point of Dis Pater, or Eledisren as the Battle Angel was also known. Just as Shaye's spear had housed the spirit of Math Mathonwy in the old days of their adventures. The weapons had been granted to them by the Great Angels, who had safeguarded them after the Sons of Odin left this world. The spear once belonging to Carl Wilder, the axe to Wil Martyr, and Rayne Dragon-Sword had been gifted the sword that had once belonged to his grandfather, Adem Highlander. Who was also Janeanne's _real_ Dad!

Shaye and Ellagon wore their usual Alit'aren black coats and trousers: knee-high brown leather boots. Ragan wore a fine red woollen cloak, over a dark green coat with gold buttons, brown trousers and boots of fine leather. They were all slightly taller than Janeanne, Ragan being the tallest. His eyes were hazel with hair of chestnut brown, short and spiked. Shaye had a dark ponytail, with blue-grey eyes that shone golden when his Odin Powers were ignited.

Ellagon had the emerald eyes that glowed like the Dremelden, and his spirit and flesh were similar to the strength of those Immortal Kin, just as Wil Martyr was said to be. Ellagon also had the gift of animal tongues. Shaye had the ability to communicate with ghosts, an ability that was said to correlate with that of Carl Wilder. Janeanne wasn't certain if those gifts were partly attributed to their weapons that had once belonged to the Sons of Odin, but the two Children of Odin had other gifts attributed since their births, during the great lightning storm of Odin's Return.

There were other Children of Odin living in Red River and surrounding farmlands. Some from the first storm of Odin's Awakening, a thousand years or more ago during the battle between the Sons of Odin and Jinn-Fendinn. The same day her half-brother Pendral had been born. A man now mad and corrupt beyond saving, who had become a puppet of Jinn-Fendinn's manipulations.

She shuddered to even think of the man. She knew the day would come when she would match her own abilities against the madman, the son and daughter of the Blue Water Dragon in a battle of wits and powers, Jinn-Magic and Janeanne's matter manipulation that Pendral also had according to tales told to her by Elmira, Orion, Tobin and Lydia. Those four had been close friends of Pendral in the days that he fought as the champion of the Armies of the All-Father. Back then the man was known as Dragon-Sword. The greatest mortal Magician of the Age of Chaos.

Shienden the dragon was Pendral's closest friend during his childhood. Shienden often spoke to Janeanne's mind since the first year she arrived in Kismeria, and also told tales of that friendship he had shared with the son of Adem Highlander, who Shienden called, Father. So, he had called Pendral, brother, and he had always spoken to Janeanne's mind calling her sister.

Janeanne had always been afraid to command or summon Shienden, yet she had met him once. The gigantic reptilian had landed in the village on her eighteenth birthday, when a small celebration was being held outside the Blue Beaked Pheasant, the inn that stood closest to the Village Green. People were gathered for a feast. Shienden had landed on the Green as people gasped and pointed in awe and terror, some running screaming. Janeanne had calmly walked to stand under the massive skull of the dragon as it lowered its neck for her to stroke its emerald scaled snout. _I came to wish you a happy birthday, sister!_ Shienden had said to her mind, to which she smiled and sent emotions of glee in return.

Her mind returned to the present. 'My father and Tobin were out hunting when I left the house, but they are expected to be home for lunch! Please join us, and you may talk with Father about your plough and my party.' The men made no reply as they continued down the path towards Janeanne's home. She had traded the jams for four large loaves of fresh bread and a half wheel of fine cheese that was soft and gooey with a white crust. The baker always traded his breads for a variety of cheeses from a farm out of town. He gained what he needed off the villagers in return for the trade of the cheeses at a higher value. This was the way of the people of Red River. They survived in times of economic hardship; barter was the currency they lived by. Silver or even copper coins were hard to find. Gold was almost non-existent, yet she was certain there were those that hoarded the precious metals stored under their beds or in holes under floorboards. There would come a time when such methods of trade became more common again. When their eggs, breads, cheeses, jams and all forms of barter trade would no longer suffice. But for now, it was the only way the townsfolk could survive.

The farmers and tradesmen of the town also kept their swords and spears well-oiled and sharpened, and their armour cleaned of any rust. In wait for the summons of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. The days of the Ragnarök Battle were approaching. Janeanne could feel it in her bones!

***

Rayne and his company of riders had halted for the night, making small campfires to roast rabbits over the flames on spits. Another fire had a cooking pot with rabbit stew bubbling with an aroma that had drawn a crowd of warriors. All of them looking weary from the days of travelling at breakneck speed on their _altherin_ mounts. Some of the Nordic and Torvellen Aldebrands were seeing that the horses were well cared for and watched for the night. Rayne sat amongst the Children of Odin he had picked for his bodyguards to join him on these adventures through time. Those that were loyal to Elarja were scattered further out, talking amongst themselves as they chewed at flat breads and hard cheeses. Using some of their rations while they waited for the meats to roast.

Among Rayne's chosen team there were three women and four men. Two were male immortals and one female, though they all had considerable strength in _teron_ , or _terael_. Children of Odin were able to wield the pure forms of Angel-Magic, even in times when the male and female halves were corrupted. This ability was the same with the older Children from Odin's Awakening. There were some who specialised in wielding Jinn-Magic, but for most this Dark Magic was out of their reach.

For this reason, the Children were perhaps the most reliable of companions, particularly during the Age of Chaos. Most were not affected by the corruption on _teron_ and the curse upon _terael_ , meaning they would not likely turn mad or evil like so many Alit'aren and Ael Tarael had done during that Age. One of the mortal men on his chosen team was named Kern, tall and dark eyed, his hair was a long dark tail falling past his shoulders. Kern was an Archer, wielding a Lukrorian Bow, though he had the ability to wield numerous forms of Spirit Wardens as well as other attacking spells via Angel-Magic. The latter of these two abilities were most common with the Children. Each of those he had chosen had similar attributes.

Shollian, the dark-haired Nordic woman, wielded a spear like dark blue glass that was used to cast powerful lightning bolts. Riock, one of the immortal males, was six feet six inches tall, emerald eyes and spiked black hair. He carried twin dragon-hilted swords in leather sheaths that were buckled to his shoulder straps: blades enchanted with Fire-Magic and Ice-Magic. He was also able to wield Earth-Magic and Air-Magic through various Teron-Spells.

Those three sat closest to Rayne around the fire: Rievenna to his left, leaning back to rest upon a sleeping blanket. She gazed at the clear silver stars glowing brightly in the dark night sky. Hamuko and Brealda approached their fire to squat on their heels beside Rayne and his companions. Those two were among Elarja's original eleven Children, both of them born on the night of Odin's Awakening. Hamuko was one of the few men connected to Jinn-Magic amongst the Children of Odin. He had fought alongside Rayne's father in the early days of the Age of Chaos, as did Brealda. A golden-haired beauty with clear blue eyes, she wore crimson armour over dark leathers, a spear formed of enchanted stone slanted above her shoulder. Hamuko was dark eyed with short dark hair and a close-cropped beard, the muscular mortal was well known for his Hounds of Hell that could be summoned at will, without any need of _teron_ or Jinn-Magic. Meaning he could wield the Spirit Wardens even when shielded from Angel-Magic. Rayne wondered what they would need to speak with him about, yet he welcomed them to sit on his sleeping blanket. The two then sat cross legged, Hamuko's thick muscled arms crossed over his dark breastplate. He was Alit'aren trained, Angel-Magic preserving him for longer than other mortals could survive via Angel-Magic. At least before the corruption on _teron_ and _terael_ began to show a pattern of extended life spans.

'Elarja wished for us to discuss this issue with you,' Hamuko said in his deep tone. Harsh tongued as a bear with eyes that glistened in the reflected firelight. 'We are approaching another of those dark patches of landscape, and although we plan to travel around it in case demons are present, we fear any demon hordes nearby will still pick up our scent and give pursuit.'

'That was always a danger,' Rayne replied with a serious tone. 'Why bring this news to me now?'

'King Rodin and his dragon riders are scouting that region already. They have not yet detected demon sign, yet their dragons report that they sense the presence of a large horde having passed through that region only three days ago. We begin to wonder if Jinn-Fendinn is moving a force to ambush us. It seems likely He would still be able to see and hear through your eyes and ears. And possibly those of Elarja and the immortal he has brought with him from the future, Satiel Bellson. This man is a minor wielder of that Age, and Jinn-Magic on _teron_ would make him another unwilling spy for Jinn-Fendinn here and now.'

'Of course,' Rayne replied, realising now the danger he put the entire mission in. 'Elarja must have considered the risks and still seen some need to bring Satiel, and to rescue me also.'

'He did indeed,' Brealda said in a warm tone, her blue eyes shining with fierce concentration as she stared into Rayne's. 'Yet the danger must be considered, and we see no way to avoid informing Jinn-Fendinn of our location or our purpose, other than to plan our journey without informing any of you three.'

'Jinn-Fendinn would still know our final destination,' Rayne argued.

'Yes, but he will not know which path we will take to reach it,' Hamuko almost growled in reply. 'He will still have knowledge of the path as we choose it, but that will make it less likely that he may inform his Shadow Generals of our movements. That should delay or hinder their efforts to spring a trap.'

'Yet you tell me this plan all the same?' Rayne asked in confusion.

'We were selected to inform you that you will be travelling blind from this point onwards, as will Elarja and Satiel. This makes it all the more important that you stay with the riders at all times. Do not risk your life to fly off into the heart of battle. We may be forced to flee during that time, and you would struggle to find us again if we become separated. This land is nothing like the one we know. There are demons here that have not existed for millions of years. Some of them more fearsome than a Shadow Dragon.

'Your orders are to stay with us. Remember that.' It was unusual for Hamuko to give orders to Rayne, ever, but he understood the special nature of these circumstances. He knew the orders would have originated with Elarja. He nodded in agreement; then the two warriors stood to return to sit amongst Elarja's Children. Rayne sat for some time thinking about Jinn-Fendinn spying through his mind. He had not much considered the possibility, until those words were spoken. Hoping that the purity of Angel-Magic in this Age would form a block between his soul and that of Jinn-Fendinn.

It was early morning when Rodin's dragon returned, landing on the field before the burning red sunrise, to report that a large demon horde was in pursuit. These were Rohgorahl, an ancient and larger breed of Rahkwel. They could hunt day or night, and they were said to be moving in this direction with great speed. All of them riding massive black wolves that were creatures of the Shadow. The horses would outrun them for most of the day, but they would need to rest at night. Rayne was given no word as to where they would make camp to form a defence. They were mounted and moving at the swift pace of an _altherin_ gallop as the sun began to rise as a burning golden ball in the pale blue morning sky.

They did not stop until early evening. The horses moved up a narrow path between two large mountains that formed a dividing range from north to south for hundreds of miles. Known as Cable's Cliffs, most of the mountains were rough blue stones with gleaming white peaks: wreathed in thick white clouds as a strong wind blew from the east. Clouds swelling around the peaks as if they were waves of floating foam.

Rayne could see why they chose this position. There were Torvellen fortifications further up the slopes including a high watchtower, and low wall cutting off the path as it joined with the mountainside. From here they would easily see the demon horde approaching, and there was no way another force could rout them from this defence. The mountain was a gigantic barrier of stone, and the other mountains were joined with this one higher up to the extent that a demon army would become scattered as they attempted to scramble up the slopes.

That did not mean they would not try. Jinn-Fendinn would hope to trap them here as long as possible, while He rallied other forces to attempt to crush their small party like bugs underfoot. Eighteen Children of Odin would not be easily defeated. With the host of immortals of this Age to assist them, as well as Rodin and his dragon riders, Rayne felt confident things would not end this day. It was nearing dusk when they saw the goblin horde approaching from the northeast. A dark shadow seemed to emerge on the horizon. Savage barks and growls of both wolf and rider sounded out in the air like the herald of doom. There were larger demons amongst them also. Massive red winged Krunloc and their dark-skinned cousins with blood red eyes and huge dark axes that burned with ill power. The latter had no wings, but they were over fourteen feet tall, wide as a wagon was long: thick bulging biceps and torsos. Oval Nymloc shaped skulls with dark horns of burning magma.

Rayne could see that even the Giants were cowed when they saw over twelve Krunloc and seven Greldori, the axe wielders, marching amongst the thousands of wolf riders. They had slowed their pace on approach, allowing Jinn-Magic of their evil souls to wash over the land. Emanating through the air to touch every warrior that stood waiting with grim expressions as they sensed that corrupt energy. Even the Jinn Arts were bearable compared with the terrors of the heart and soul that were felt when these evil spirits spread their foulness like a sickness on the wind. That was the first move Jinn-Fendinn would try to use. Inspiring fear and dread in his adversaries to dull their wits and drive them to their knees before the battle had even begun. Rayne gritted his teeth to fight for determination, drawing his pale blue sword that lit up the darkness like a talisman of hope. Other weapons were drawn. Blades of emerald fire. Crimson Lightning-Spears. Lightning-Arrows drawn from Lukrorian Bows added greater illumination to their huddled defences. Rodin and his dragon riders circled the enemy from the night sky. The dragons moved as great shadows amongst the stars. Occasionally one would let out an earth rumbling roar. Anxious to unleash Dragon-Flame to vanquish their enemies.

Rayne estimated the wolf riders to number some twenty thousand from the size of the horde. The clouds parted to allow clear bright moonlight onto the field. The wind was still fierce. It raced around the sides of the mountain like the wailing of banshees, ice cold sheets that bit down to the bone. The wind seemed to be an instrument of Jinn-Fendinn, adding to their state of unease as they braved the apparently cursed elements. Rayne had never learnt of such abilities by Jinn-Fendinn in his studies of the ancient world. He soon became certain of the evidence, verified to his mind moments after by his Battle Angel via the _kigare_.

Bright thunder bolts were falling from the sky, blazing blue tridents that signalled an approaching storm. Rain began to pour down in torrents that soaked their bodies in the freezing winds, making their footholds slippery as the earth upon the mountain stone became a river of mud. Horses began to buck and neigh wildly in surging fits of trepidation bordering on berserk! They would need the horses well rested if it became necessary to attempt an escape. _Altherin_ breeds would find paths up and around these mountains more easily than any demon. But such a retreat would jeopardise the formation of their unit, they might become scattered or even lose one another completely in a crazed dash for safety.

No, their only option was to obliterate this demon force. Crush them before they had time to draw in more of their Demonsouled. Drive them into dust and ashes with the blazing might of Tohka Reiden and the Children of Odin. Rayne summoned his Battle Angel as the wolf riders began to pour forth through the path that led up to their wall of defences. Rayne shouting the name of his Angel as lightning and thunder filled the night sky. Blue bolts striking ground in summons by the ancient deity. Released now in this Age with ten times the strength Rayne had known of him in the Age of Chaos. Thick pillars of blue-white flame fell like blazing swords across the fields. Striking within the ranks of the wolf riders to blast sheets of white flame in burning discs that vaporized hundreds of the demons on impact! Tohka Reiden appeared. A figure of spiked starlight hair and short forked moonlight beard. Standing taller than the Giants: incandescent aqua armour, gauntlets and pauldrons. Greaves of white flame over boots that shone as if formed of deep-sea blue lanterns.

Immediately the Battle Angel began to hurl lightning bolts from his fists. Bolts striking demons in waves of incineration! Night became day in those flashes of pure crackling energy. Demon corpses exploded in blasts of armour, flesh and dark blood. Rohgorahl were built similarly to Rahkwel, only these ancient goblins were nearly twice as large. Some would stand close to twelve feet tall, built wide and muscular riding wolves larger than Hamuko's Hell Hounds.

Hamuko suddenly summoned his Spirit Wardens in a pack of twenty: shadow skinned Hounds patrolling the lower side of the wall to shred through both wolf and rider as if they were paper under their claws. Though the scene was a bloody massacre. That was the fate of the few wolf riders that had made it past Tohka Reiden's lightning assault. Yet if the Battle Angel tired before the horde was defeated, Hamuko's Hounds might begin to yelp in distress against those larger and more savage foes.

The wolves they rode were not true Demonwolves, but they were a fierce breed Jinn-Fendinn had created when the first wolves were made by Odin and his Brothers. A pack was stolen to rear the animals with Dark Power that resulted in these black skinned monsters. Teeth and claws like razor sharp steel, their furless hides glowing with pulses of magma: fire bursting through their flesh. Their growls were horrifying, and the curse of their souls emanated a corrupt vapour that could be felt, sensed in their presence; like the spectre of Death unleashing a tidal wave of evil with his Bloodfire Scythe. Rayne truly hoped Calliach kept his word and did not show his face in the thick of this battle.

The Children of Odin fanned out along the line of the wall with the warriors of the three immortal clans filling the gaps. Waves of Angel-Magic were hurled at the Rohgorahl that continued to push upwards along the path. Arrows of incinerating flame launched from Lukrorian Bows: pummelled demon flesh into the dirt in blasts of blood and fire. Brealda unleashed her Stone Spears that split through goblin torsos and wolf skulls: erupting in waves of scorching emerald heat that tore flesh and bone to shreds. Rievenna unleashed blasts of lightning from her bow. Scores of Pixie Wardens—palm sized fairies of bright aqua—poured forth from her glowing aura to soar towards the demons: blasting skulls and chests apart in eruptions of vicious energy. Impacting with wolf or rider to reduce bodies to smoking piles of ash. Rodin and his dragon riders swooped to scorch the earth with waves of Dragon-Flame. Roaring conflagrations burst twenty feet high as sheets of blazing magnificence surged through the horde—reducing thousands to charred bones or incinerated: sizzling into vapour and dust clouds—in deep blues, fierce reds, pure golden and wicked emerald heat. Erupting in vehement waves like a storm of burning avalanches!

The warriors of this Age were equal in might if not greater. Wielding Angel-Magic to devastating effect against the enemy. Sheets of lightning and fireballs flew to strike down the charging riders in flashes: burning skeletons collapsed into piles of smoking ash. Many wielding arrows of intense burning light. Others hurled attacks from their open palms or closed fists, bars of pure blazing Elemental Magic that tore through demon flesh in bursts of blood and charred flesh. Some slashed at the wolves with axe, spear or sword, though from a distance. The weapons released rivers of _teron_ or _terael_ that vanquished demon flesh in bright blazes! The storm seemed to intensify at this point. Rayne was unsure whether it was Jinn-Fendinn or the force of his companions all wielding at once that created the surge. Fire Pythons launched from the clouds. Gorging on demon flesh as Golden Tigers, Magma Cougars and Spirit Wolves charged down the path to bite off skulls and chew through torsos. Claws of flame shredding flesh from bone in a bloodbath of burning light.

Tohka Reiden morphed from his position on the top of the wall. In a brief moment his form became a sheet of silver light, fading into the stone—like bright liquid draining from a glass jug—to reappear on a cloud of blue light high above the demon army. The enormous Battle Angel ran through the air as more burning clouds appeared underfoot. Tohka Reiden hurled more bolts of lightning from his dark blue gauntleted fists, spears of incandescence striking the horde to incinerate wolf riders by the hundreds in the blink of an eye. A terrible clap of thunder following in his wake! Rayne could do some serious damage also if he formed Wings of Odin and joined his spirit with the _teron_ of his Battle Angel. Up there in the clouds. But he had his orders, and there was still much he could do down on the ground. In this Age of almost limitless potential in Angel-Magic.

***

Jean and her forces reached the village of Red River on a day of great celebration. Their horses moved along the river to reach a wide stone bridge, leading to a large green field. Bright coloured lanterns were hung from poles to the roofs of the inns and surrounding houses, two or three storey blue stone buildings. Tiled roofs of various greys, greens, blues and reds. A long row of tables was spread across the field, clothed in white with platters of food and goblets of wine, the tables also decorated with bright flowers tied in chains: layered alongside and around the dishes.

There was music and dancing. Large spits in the centre of the U-shape of tables where lamb, pork, rabbit and duck were being roasted over open flames. Succulent scents of sizzling meat wafted in the cool breeze. Warm sunlight poured through the clouds that were white and fluffy overhead.

It was not until they spotted Lydia and Elmira striding towards their horses that Jean caught the first glimpse of her daughter Janeanne, as a grown woman. It only took a moment to be certain it was her. The young woman looked so much like herself her identity was unmistakable.

Janeanne was dancing with a much older looking man with a dark ponytail and grey in his hair. Jean immediately felt a wave of disapproval, but she saw that the man looked upon her as if at his own daughter; and Janeanne at him like a caring uncle. Jean would get to the bottom of the relationship in short order. Making her way towards the two former Queens as they each embraced her with bright smiles and watery eyes. Jean was also overcome with emotion at the reunion, but she immediately began to interrogate them about the man her daughter was dancing with.

'That is Shaye,' Elmira replied in a slightly startled tone, perhaps wondering what Jean would make of the way they had raised her daughter. 'He is one of the Children of Odin, an old friend of Rayne Dragon-Sword, Adem's grandson.'

Jean nodded as she glanced their way again to note a crimson spearhead and short shaft hanging from Shaye's belt loop. A moment of intrigue tinged her voice as she asked, 'Is that Carl's spear?' Elmira nodded; then explained how Rayne's two closest friends had been gifted with Carl's spear and Wil's axe. Going on to mention that the men also had similar abilities to Carl and Wil.

'Very interesting,' Jean said, looking their way again as Elmira spoke up to almost splutter the words, 'Shaye is a very honourable man, Jean! He loves Janeanne dearly, as does Ellagon and Ragan. Rayne's old companions are like three adoring uncles to your daughter. They care for her, watch out for her, and they are her best friends.'

'Has any of them ever ...?' Jean asked in a careful tone, before Elmira spoke up again in almost desperate tones as she replied, 'No, Jean, of course not, no! Janeanne has never been in love. She is still innocent, childlike in many ways. But her abilities in _terael_ have been exceptional since the beginning of her training. She also knows Adem's mind over matter Power.'

'Has she ever trained in the Jinn Arts?' Jean asked in a moment of panic.

'We all follow the old decrees of the Sons and Daughter here in Red River,' Lydia spoke this time, in a calmer tone. 'Janeanne has been warned that such practices could corrupt her to the point that she might become a servant of the Shadow. We have done our best to ensure she never delves into such practices.'

'What are the celebrations for?' Jean asked to change the subject. 'Is it a feast holiday?'

'It is your daughter's birthday,' Elmira replied. 'At least, it is the day we celebrate it, as it is the same day that we found her all those years ago.'

Jean was suddenly fraught with panic and self-loathing! 'Oh! I have nothing to give her! I don't feel ready to meet her now!' Tears welled in her eyes as she began to sniff. The two women moved around her to rub her back and massage her shoulders. She had removed her armour on approach to the village, wearing now just her dark coat, trousers and boots.

'Your daughter loves you very much, Jean Fairsythe,' Elmira said soothingly. 'She has longed for the day that you and Adem would return for her.'

'It's Jean Highlander these days,' Jean said between sobs, to which Lydia replied, 'I prefer Jean Fairsythe. It sounds better.' Jean began to giggle at the remark and suddenly the three of them were laughing together softly, in a tight embrace as Jean fought for courage. Adem was soon by her side, she caught him up on what she had learnt, when her nerves were calmed. Her husband stared across the field to catch glimpses of his daughter as a grown woman. Dancing with Shaye Eagle-Soul amongst the crowds of men and women in bright silk dresses or colourful woollen robes, coats or cloaks. A lot of them were wearing hats with brightly coloured feathers, both men and women. Others were wearing the feathered masks Jean remembered from her first festival in Kismeria. On the nights before the day she was tested in the Chameleon Arch to be raised to full Ael Tarael. _The Bellatanus Festival; that's what they called it!_

Such memories had faded significantly during the years Jean spent back home on Earth, raising her child and wedded to Adem. Her journeys here now brought back those memories like an open floodgate when something triggered them like those masks. 'Well, Adem Highlander,' Jean said in a moody yet playful tone. 'Aren't you going to go and hug your daughter on her birthday?' Adem started to stare off in his daughter's direction as if that question set forth the hardest challenge he would ever have to face.

***

Adem was stunned to see the woman his daughter had grown to be. Walking to her side with Jean holding his hand tightly, the three of them embraced in the middle of the dancers on the green. Laughing. Crying. Full of emotions as they rejoiced at the reunion. Janeanne was a fast talker, and her personality was bright and cheerful. He was glad to know she still had never been with a man, but for a young woman of her age it seemed a little unusual for a mortal girl.

Apparently, she had never found the time, and spent most of her time with the three men who had been close companions of his grandson, Shaye, Ellagon and Ragan. He spoke with Shaye after an introduction. The man had grey in his hair, yet he looked only a few years older than Adem. Shaye spoke in very polite tones with a hint of a fine education, although he admitted as a youth he had served as stable boy in the Royal Stables of Valmeron, where Rayne was also born and raised. 'Rayne was a great friend of ours,' Shaye said with a sad smile. 'He was our very best friend. A kind and honourable man. We were all very sorry to lose him. You must be just getting used to the news that Rayne is no longer with us, and ... your son. Forgive me, Lord Adem, I forget myself. You wouldn't want to dwell on such things here and now. If you would excuse me, I'll return to drinking with my companions.'

'My son is not dead,' Adem replied with a casual glare. 'Just a corrupt madman. I am sorry for your loss, Shaye. You must miss your friend Rayne very much. I am sure it pains you all to know that his father has fallen into the clutches of the Shadow. But sometimes even the damned can be rescued from their fate. Perhaps even Pendral may yet achieve eternal salvation.' Adem truly hoped that were true of himself also. 'I would like to speak with you some more, and your companions later this evening. Try to stay in plain view during the feast and I will endeavour to join you.' Shaye gave a deep bow then made his way off through the crowd after saying, 'It is a great honour to meet the Daughter of Thor, also, Jean Fairsythe. An honour and a privilege. I see you bring Rodriel Tarz and his Forsaken warriors. A suitable army to enforce your authority upon these lands and its rulers. Surely the Sons and Daughter will bring order and peace to our world. I am certain of it.' He appeared uncomfortable making those last remarks. Jean was still fighting back tears of joy and holding onto Janeanne as if she were about to crush her bones. The two women acknowledged his formal words.

Adem watched Shaye return to his two friends, so that he could identify the other two. He had not missed Carl's spear retracted and hanging from Shaye's belt loop, and Jean had mentioned the fact before they were introduced. He made note of the golden axe hanging from the hip of the thick muscled one, as the three laughed and joked swilling ale from glass mugs. That would make him Ellagon, and the third Ragan in the red cloak. As Adem stood watching those three occasionally look his way nervously, yet always with a smile or a wave, during their conversation, Adem began to see a great similarity between Shaye and Ellagon, in correlation to Carl and Wil.

His heart was suddenly aching at the loss of his grandson Rayne, who Adem would have very much liked to have seen sitting there with his friends also. What remarkable tales those three must be able to tell him of their adventures with Rayne Dragon-Sword. He hoped he had a chance to hear a few of those stories soon. Carl and Wil soon joined him, standing to his side as he informed them about Rayne's old friends. He pointed out the weapons they had obtained, and how that evidently had resulted in similar abilities in the two men that Carl and Wil now eyed with restrained fascination. The both of them perhaps wondering if they would get their spear and axe back if they simply walked up and asked. Adem considered it likely: and tried to talk them out of it. Suggesting that such warriors could be more powerful and experienced allies to be united in their cause. 'Let's get a drink and something to eat,' he suggested. 'Then we will see what we can learn from these Children of Odin.'

***

Carl was enjoying himself as the evening light faded and the ale began to bring a lightheaded sense of contentment and enthusiasm. He had tasted a variety of dishes, most of it surprisingly good for a village feast. Now he was pacing his drinks as a sense of impending doom began to dawn upon him. It was difficult to describe. Whether it was just a case of growing paranoia as a result of wielding the Jinn Arts, or whether he was becoming attuned to sensing the danger of evil forces at work. He began to suspect the latter when horns sounded in the distance. A warning by the Nordic and Torvellen Aldebrands watching the borders of the village.

The Village Green became a sudden scene of panic. Women snatching up children to hug them to their breasts as they ran towards the protection of the nearby inn and surrounding houses. Men drawing blades or rushing to pick up spears and shields. Their movements enhanced by their immortal blood: a blur of motion in the light of the fires and coloured lanterns. Moments later the harsh snarls and grunts of demons could be heard. Black armoured Boli-Kuldr charged into view. Ram and bull skulled beasts swinging with dark axes or scythe shaped black blades. Aldebrands and other immortal warriors rushed to defend the villagers as the clash of steel rang out in the air.

Carl lifted his dark spear and harnessed Jinn-Magic, unleashing a torrent of Acid Flame at a pack of five Boli-Kuldr. Crimson shadows reaching around their dark bulks to melt armour and flesh in a ghastly display! Wil and Adem were forming a barrier around Jean and their daughter as the Souljhin began to charge into view on tall dark steeds. Carl did not groan in despair until Balor rose from a pool of magma on the dark field. Red wings fanning behind midnight armour as Pendral morphed into view. Hovering above the battle to lock eyes on Adem.

Wings of Odin launched from Adem's shoulders. Drawing his emerald blade, he took to the skies to battle with his son. Carl hoped Adem had a better plan this time. Both Carl and Wil moved to form a protective barrier around Jean and Janeanne. Tobin and Orion joining the circle with Lydia and Elmira. Carl was unsure why Adem hadn't summoned Arawn. Carl, Wil and Jean immediately shouted the names of their Angels. The sky above began to swell in a grey vortex. Bolts formed of blazing blue blades blasting enemies apart. A melting mess of metal slag and smoking burnt bones.

Chapter 13

Storm of Shadows

Adem summoned Arawn, shouting the name of his Battle Angel as he soared upwards through the starlit sky. Emerald blade clashing with Pendral's crimson sword of tainted shadows. The swords released bolts of red and green ignition. Thunder tore the air each time the blades locked in battle. Energies flaring within the steel to rupture outwards, tearing up the night sky in blazing bolts of colour. The lightning storm of the Battle Angel Link flickered and flared all around them. Aqua, emerald, crimson and golden bolts lancing down from the vortex to strike Boli-Kuldr and Souljhin upon the village fields. Blasts reducing demon flesh to burning skeletons on impact. Over a thousand Boli-Kuldr pouring into the light of the Village Green. Immortal warriors fighting desperately to protect the women and children that ran screaming for the protection of the surrounding buildings. Adem saw it all in brief glimpses. Heightened senses capturing sights and sounds with crystal clarity.

Arawn appeared in the air: wings blazing garnet. Another sign that the old strength of Battle Angels was returning. Arawn's broadsword struck Pendral's Shield-Sphere, as Adem and his son locked blades again. Flying upwards into the sky as wild energies pulsed and surged through air all around them. Adem would not appeal to his son this time. He could only do his best to distract the man from harming Jean or Janeanne, by fighting him up here, away from the rest of the battle. It would also allow the others enough time to overpower Balor and his demon forces, weakening the corrupt Battle Angel to the extent that he would need to retreat. Hopefully Pendral would then also, for now at least.

Adem winced in pain from the burn across his chest. A horrible black scar that had begun to take the shape of a large Japanese style dragon, at least in outline. The dark mass had not yet healed enough to reveal much more detail, yet already there were subtle hints of a design of this nature. This intrigued Adem as to what purpose such a symbol could have and why Pendral would have marked him in this way. One thing was certain however, that dark burn was making Adem weaker every day. Jinn-Magic became harder to reach, yet every time he wielded the Jinn Arts, he felt the scar pulsing like a warm extension of the beat of his own heart. His wound seemed to be fuelling the Jinn-Magic. Causing an increase in the effects of corruption upon his mind and soul each time he was forced to wield Jinn-Fendinn's Magic. His physical strength became sapped much more easily, and he felt it happening to him here now.

Pendral gestured towards Arawn with a fist of fierce flame. The Battle Angel was cast aside, flying through the air as if he had been struck by an incredible force! Adem's eyes must have bulged in shock at witnessing that. He continued to battle with his son as they passed up above the vortex storm clouds. Rising into the clear night sky as the grey blanket shimmered in a flickering blaze of lightning bolts below. Pendral lowered his dark cloaked form to stand upon the top of the storm of shadows. Adem allowed his Wings of Odin to lower him to the same level, where he found that his feet felt supported by the top layers.

He guessed it was a duelling platform created by Pendral. Though with his Wings maintained, Adem would not fall if his son attempted to remove it. They immediately flowed into the sword forms. Blades roared with thunder. Steel clashed in blazes of crimson and emerald. Bolts tearing through the clouds. Spears of Angry Gods.

***

Rayne watched as the hordes of wolf riders pushed harder towards the path that led up the mountain towards their wall of defence. Tigers, Lions, Hounds, Cougars and Wolves guarded the lower side of the wall. Burning teeth and claws shredding demon flesh: bloodlust of enchanted animal rage! Some charged through the demon ranks, pulling riders from the backs of even larger wolves, biting off goblin skulls in bursts of thick black blood. The Children of Odin and Immortal Aldebrands and Archers of this Age unleashing intense bolts of Angel-Magic. Rupturing, splitting through and tearing apart the demon ranks that made it upwards along the mountain pass. Sizzling magical infernos vaporizing wolf and Rohgorahl rider in savage eruptions. Demon skeletons ablaze before flesh and bone was blasted apart: burnt to crispy black crust.

Rodin and his dragon riders reduced the size of the horde further out beyond the mountain path. Dragon-Flame unleashed in torrential blazing heat. Incinerating, vaporizing and scorching demons and wolves by the thousands. Flames that rushed, charged and roared as they spread in wild conflagrations. Tohka Reiden adding to the onslaught with Lightning Spears. Blasting the giant-sized goblins in rupturing spheres of incandescent energies that blossomed outwards from the earth upon impact. Demon flesh encased in rivers of magma rising as a tidal wave from the thousands of bolts that struck with savage ferocity.

So far, they were holding back the enemy without any casualties. Resisting the might of this attack and the scale of the demon army with the sheer force of Elemental Magic. Wielded in harmony with the magnificence of Angel-Magic available in this ancient time.

_Teron_ was a wellspring of burning brilliance in Rayne's blood. He added his own blazing blue tridents: lancing upon the path and further out upon the field. Bolts laced with burning blue Spirit Dragons. Wardens of Elemental Magic that entwined the lightning to surge down upon the enemy. Gorging on demon flesh with ravenous ferocity! Demon skulls, limbs and torsos bursting, torn apart or ripped free in a raging extravaganza of chaos. Those Spirit Wardens were aided by the presence of Tohka Reiden. Wielding the full potential of his Angel-Magic while linked with Rayne via the _kigare_ : boosting the strength of their attacks.

His Battle Angel gave warning that he would require rest soon. That put their hopes of victory at great risk. Tohka Reiden was causing serious damage to the enemy. His absence would put greater strain upon the wielders to defend their ground. Rohgorahl still numbering in the thousands. Their dark shadow continued to swell upon the horizon: more wolf riders arriving to reinforce their ranks.

Krunloc began to march upwards through the gap, joined by a number of the massive axe wielding breed of demons. The Krunloc began to hurl Hellfire-Magma from their burning spears. Crimson wings lighting up the night as fireballs launched in swarms. The terrifying beasts stomped the earth on their approach. All five Giants leapt over the wall, the women drawing their swords as the three males hefted huge double-bladed axes, wielded with two hands. Their fierce battle roars heard distinctly despite raging thunder. They charged down the path, hacking and slashing to decapitate both the demonic wolves and their riders. Slicing off limbs, splitting skulls and hacking through torsos, with ferocious speed and strength. Stopping some of the giant wolves with an axe blade through the skull. Children of Odin and Aldebrands and Archers launching an assault of Lightning-Arrows and Bolt-Spears that blazed, blasted and flared around them on the path. Wolves had their skulls blown apart in splotchy sprays before Rohgorahl hearts were blasted out of chests.

But the Giants were merely taking down the wolf riders that were within their reach as they charged. Their targets were the Krunloc and Greldori. Despite being outnumbered against these foes, their courage was a raging torrent of bloodlust. Giants striking with fury as their blades clashed: deflecting Magma-Spears and Blood-Bane Axes, crimson bolts erupting and flying. Clashing steel rang out: a wicked piercing scream. The Giants fought with technique. With swift agile movements, two or three of them surrounded one of the large demons at a time. Two behind would hack into its burning shadow flesh—severing limbs in sprays of dark demon blood—while another distracted the creature in a contest of blades.

In a matter of dazzling moments, they had cut down two Krunloc and a Greldori. It seemed likely then that they had fought such demons before. The Greldori had swung that Bane Axe in a wide arc. The male Giant's axe was knocked aside by the strike, and the dark- haired woman Giant, Kiar'Ell, barely dodged the demon blades. Yet the golden-haired woman saw her moment, swiftly hacking off the Greldori's right leg above the knee. It fell to its other knee, attempting to swing again when Kiar'Ell pinned the axe blade to the floor. Rae'Toh was the grey bearded Giant that planted his axe blade in the demon's brain. Sounds of skull bone shattered and a fleshy dark splatter.

***

Jean fought with the rage of a lioness protecting her cub. Slaughtering Boli-Kuldr and Souljhin with Acid Javelins. Demons burst with corrosive vapour: javelins splitting skulls and torsos. Tanriel wielded Flame Spears, hurled from above as wings of sapphire light held her hovering over the crowd. Spears turning Souljhin to smoking bloody skeletons. They collapsed in hissing black piles upon the grass field. That left mostly Boli-Kuldr for the immortal warriors to hold back with their blades: Forsaken doing most of the work as they wielded Jinn-Magic to devastating effect. Hellfire of Shadow Acid melting demon flesh. Dark Samurai using a variety of Jinn-Spells to tear down their enemies by the hundreds. Bars of light sliced armoured demons into two halves, tore limbs free. Decapitated. There were over two thousand Forsaken gathered on the Village Green. Some wielding steel to uphold their honour. A surprise attack seemed to signal an immediate requirement for more offensive tactics. Tarz stood close by, wielding Jinn-Magic to imitate Jean's Acid Javelins to keep their circle clear of any approaching threat. When Boli-Kuldr got close enough, a hail of blood-red shafts spliced through shoulders, chests and knees. Split skulls in corrosive black bursts.

Carl and Wil also wielded the Jinn Arts, hurling Hellfire in blazing orange fireballs. Boli-Kuldr exploding as if they'd swallowed grenades, the field around them now piled with demon corpses. Congealed flesh sizzling with corrosive vapours. Dis Pater and Math Mathonwy fought on the edges of their circle, the two Battle Angels appearing slightly taller than she remembered. Golden axe and Hellfire Spear seeming to burn with a stronger light!

Dis Pater booted a Boli-Kuldr in the chest to halt it mid-stride. His axe cleaved through its skull in a bloody black spurt before the creature hit the ground. Math swung his spear leftwards to decapitate a taller breed of lion headed demon. Punching another in the chest with right fist, the ram headed Boli-Kuldr fell on his back as the Angel stepped forward: forcing its skull two feet deep with the thud of his burning blood-red boot. Dis Pater hacked off a sword arm as another lion headed demon fell to his knees: grasping at his bleeding stump. The towering Angel put foot to the beast's left shoulder: planting axe-blade of golden light deep in its armoured chest where Elemental Magic fizzed its flesh with electric fusion. Math drove Hellfire Spear of garnet heat through the chest of another Boli-Kuldr. Blasts of orange fireballs burst its form to smoke and ashes.

Janeanne also fought. Jean soon witnessed that her daughter had obtained almost equal strength in the unique ability known as mind over matter manipulation, a trait passed on from her father. Janeanne used this ability to make Boli-Kuldr and Souljhin explode, bodies opened up as if crushed by huge invisible fists. Innards spilling onto the field in a ghastly display. At the same time Janeanne summoned four of those Golden Soldiers Adem often used. These figures were like samurai in appearance, tall as Battle Angels. They wielded swords of crimson laser light, forming an outer perimeter to hack through any demons with speed and precision.

Balor was locked in conflict with Old Karbul. Hurling blood-crimson and sea-emerald Fire-Magic at one another: intense light and energies pulsing in the air between the two. Each was grappling to dominate: seemingly equal strength in the Jinn Arts. So far that battle had distracted Balor from summoning any of his Krunloc, while Adem fought his son, somewhere up there above the raging storm.

Tobin and Orion also stood around their circle of defence: their wives closer to Jean. The former kings held their blades ready, yet Lydia and Elmira wore helpless expressions as Elmira finally asked Jean, 'Will you permit us to wield the Jinn Arts? We have held faithful to the decree, but we can help you!' The question brought internal conflict for Jean. Finally, she agreed. Deciding that if they could help to protect Janeanne, she would allow just about anything! 'What about our husbands?' Lydia asked, almost shouting the question over the roar of thunder.

'Yes!' Jean shouted in reply. 'I free them of their oaths. They may wield the Jinn Arts to serve us, until Angel-Magic can be restored! Then I will allow them to wield _teron_ , to fight alongside the Sons of Odin at the Ragnarök Battle!'

Lightning flared in the sky. A sudden blaze of hundreds of bolts. Crimson, golden, emerald and aqua: flickering, pulsating brilliant beams of extreme Jinn-Magic. Jean suddenly sensed a very powerful link between the former Immortal Kings and Queens, wielding Jinn-Magic to bring fire from the sky in a thousand blazing bolts! Shadow Tigers with stripes of hot magma charged through the crowd, appearing just beyond Orion. Tobin unleashed Dark Lion Spirit Wardens, eyes of coal and smouldering ruby manes!

Pixie Wardens of burning shadows launched from the hands of Lydia and Elmira, soaring through the air to punch through demon skulls in hot explosive bursts! The Tigers and Lions charged along the field to tear down demons, biting off dozens of skulls in savage horrid gulps. Suddenly there were hundreds of the Spirit Wardens, as Jean realised the true potential of Orion Demon-Slayer and Tobin Fire-Heart. Boli-Kuldr dropped their spears or swords before Tigers chomped down on their jugular: pushing them to ground while tearing off limbs. Lions shredded chests apart to devour their beating hearts.

It was during these moments that the enemy seemed to throw the full force of the attack against them. Boli-Kuldr appearing by the hundreds. Dozens of Souljhin slithered from the shadows in their dark hooded cloaks, swords of wicked crimson whipping in the air like mad serpents. Forsaken flowed around them with blades raised to strike or defend.

Janeanne's Golden Warriors hacked flesh and bone into congealed smoking clumps. Jean wielded Acid Javelins and Tanriel hurled her Flame Spears by the dozen! Forsaken joined the circle of defence on Tarz's command, over a hundred wielding steel to hold off the rush of demons. Warriors further out still wielded the Jinn, sizzling flesh to piles of smoking bone with Hellfire Acid.

Shaye, Ellagon and Ragan were also out there amongst the thick of the battle, throwing bars of powerful energies from their fists and sheet lightning from their weapons; slicing through Boli-Kuldr armour and torsos as bodies burst like melted butter. Shaye and Ellagon were wielding their uniquely pure form of Angel-Magic. Ragan hurled Hellfire with blatant disregard to the laws of the White Snow Fox. She was certain she had not given the entire village permission to wield the Jinn Arts!

They were being slowly pushed back towards the circle of defence. Jean realised their fear must be for Janeanne. Fighting to protect her, just as much as they defended the Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor. Jean feared the enemy would crush them when—

—Arrows of steel flew with precision to cut down dozens of Boli-Kuldr in an instant, two or three feathered shafts protruding from the back of skulls or the front of demon breastplates, necks or limbs. The force of each strike stopped the massive beasts in their stride. Stumbling halted or knocked right off their hooves, they wailed in cursed animal tongue.

A horn sounded to the east. Hundreds of Dark Elves were charging onto the field. Arrows flew by the thousands to punch through demon armour, blinding bull and ram skulled demons with shafts striking through their eyeballs. Thudding into throats: cutting them down at the knees. Other Eva'Hahlen drew swords to hack through black breastplates with the blurring speed of Immortal Kin. Swarming onto the field to turn the tide of the battle! Jean saw that further out on the field the Dark Elves wielded Hellfire-Arrows to hold back demons attempting to rush onto the Green. Demons fell by the hundreds just as they moved beyond the endless shadows surrounding the lanterns. She realised; they must be using steel arrows to avoid harming immortals fighting on the field. Well, those arrows could still kill any man instantly if they hit vitals, but still it seemed they were not yet completely mad. Despite corruption in the eyes of these Dark Elves that was testament to a simple fact. The Shadow had a strong grip on every one of them. Jean groaned inwardly to consider the kinds of friends she was making these days!

***

Adem flowed through the sword forms, holding his ground against Pendral. They locked blades a hundred times, though it seemed like a thousand. He had learnt soon enough that he was not equipped to assault his son. His main purpose was to defend against Pendral's attacks with waning strength and speed. He also knew his son was capable of more. He was holding back his true potential, perhaps testing Adem's own abilities to see if they were truly evenly matched. Adem was no Agnar. Pendral was also half Elven. He knew he was outmatched in any method of combat except perhaps his Matter-Manipulation-Magic.

Clash of blades rang out in the rumbling thunderstorm. Pendral moved like a Souljhin Shadow Swordsmen, swift, agile, graceful and deadly. He never faltered or retreated, holding his ground and pushing Adem ever into a slow but certain retreat.

Adem's chest was scalding hot and red under his coat, as if Pendral had some ability to summon the curse upon his scar. Corruption filled Adem's veins like a viscous shadow. Arawn returned. Magma Wings carrying the Battle Angel above the clouds, as he took a second swipe at Pendral. Red burning blade striking against Pendral's Shield-Sphere in a shower of cherry-red sparks. Arawn moved out of reach when Pendral attempted to retaliate with Fists of Fire. Arawn moved behind Pendral, as Adem attacked from the front. Arawn would simply attempt to disarm Pendral's Shield-Spell, while causing a distraction at the same time.

Pendral raised a fist that glowed with blistering hot energy. At the same time Adem felt his dark scar burning with intense heat. A glow like hot magma was coursing through his coat. The coat was set alight, it fell apart from his body as Adem deflected the burns with Shield-Spells of matter manipulation; so close to his own skin it was like a body suit. Heat was still searing his flesh. He looked down a moment to see that black dragon outline burning bright crimson and golden. It had become a series of lines of fire: the pain was almost unbearable. Adem held his stance, deflecting attacks as Pendral lunged forwards in an assault. Arawn continued to attack Pendral's Shield-Sphere, yet the distraction was minimal. Pendral did not appear bothered or concerned.

Adem suddenly saw the dark wings of his secret weapon cresting the clouds, Shienden rising above the swordfight to bathe Pendral in bright blue Dragon-Flame: vicious blue incinerating heat washed over Pendral's Shield-Spell: heat to bubble and pop with blistering fusion. Adem and Arawn leapt away before the dragon unleashed the conflagration! Adem thought he could hear Pendral's wailing before the fires dissipated: Pendral had vanished. Adem knew his son had simply retreated. This surprise tactic had perhaps saved him from being cut down by Pendral's sword, that was surely tainted with a corruption much deadlier than this dragon scar. He also felt the Wings of Odin begin to weaken. The solidity of the clouds also lessened at Pendral's departure. Shienden swooped to offer his neck to Adem as a seat. Adem used his Wings of Odin to rise and then fall to rest behind the massive skull of the dragon. Arawn returned to Adem's sword, as Shienden started a steep dive back towards the village of Red River.

The storm had also faded as he passed down through the clouds, suggesting the battle was nearly over. He still was able to sense great stress in Jean via the _kigare_. He could see larger than human dark-armoured beasts charging upon the field while Shienden prepared to land. When he leapt from the neck of the massive dragon, he saw that the village had been assisted by a large group of Dark Elves. Archer Warriors now standing like relaxed lions with arrows notched to bowstrings. Occasionally an arrow would fly to strike down a Boli-Kuldr that charged into the light, yet the battle was otherwise done.

Old Karbul had managed to weaken Balor to the point that the Battle Angel retreated without causing any further harm to the defenders of the village. Karbul appeared exhausted from the ordeal. Large burn marks covered his arms and legs where Balor's Hellfire had burnt through his clothes: scorched his flesh. Karbul's dark eyes stared at Adem as if the confrontation with Balor was costly to his sense of honour. It apparently pained the Giant to battle with a Great Angel.

Aldebrands, Forsaken and Dark Elves now covered the Green by the thousands. Groups began to fan out to hunt down any demons still lurking in the shadows. Jean and Janeanne were both safe, which was a great relief for Adem. The burning in his chest had not stopped, he was overwhelmed by the pain of its heat. Shadows flowed through his soul like a sea of vile corruption infested with rotting eels. Darkness filled his vision. He fell to its knees. Jean shouted his name before he lost consciousness. Nightmares followed. Skeleton-Ghosts dragging his soul down to hell.

***

Elarja watched the dark night skies, raging with thunder and flickering bolts of fire: jagged blue tridents of blazing vehemence. Elarja was watching his father, Rodin. Riding Ellanori as a huge Shadow Dragon swooped down out of the black storm clouds. Black claws the size of bull-elephant tusks snatched at Rodin riding in a saddle across Ellanori's back. Clutching Rodin and ripping him free from the saddle! Elarja was not sure if it was his own scream or his father's that he heard. Immortal eyesight saw Rodin's face clearly in the moonlight, even across such a great distance amidst the raging black storm. As he fell from that incredible height, their eyes locked. Elarja saw the fear in Rodin's eyes dissipate at that moment. His expression seemed to be an appeal to Elarja to accept this fate! Elarja felt his beating heart was that saddle and rider, ripped free from his chest!

Knowing his father would die a second time was a terrible burden to bear.

Wings of Odin appeared at Rayne's shoulders. 'I can still save him!' But Elarja gripped Rayne by the arm, shouting in reply, 'You will remain by my side, Dragon-Sword! Do not interfere in his fate!' Elarja knew this would have to be. Rodin would simply become prey for Calliach if he was saved from this new alternate death in the reshaped timelines. This was not how Rodin had died the first time. This adventure was being written in time only now, after Elarja had brought Rayne and the Children back to this ancient past.

He watched as Rodin's spear unleashed a clear beam of fire—blazing azure magic: burning pure white-hot through its central line—lancing like Odin's Spear. The beam shot forth on a forty-five-degree angle, blasting upon the demon horde to erupt in all directions: waves of raging inferno. His attack setting thousands of wolf riders aflame. Incinerating blue heat reducing them to burning ashes as Rodin plummeted into a sea of burning demons! Elarja was certain his father would have died on impact regardless of the fires, the fall was from a great height. Suddenly, that beam of Angel-Magic was firing horizontal along the earth within the demon horde. Waves of blazing azure magnificent conflagration tearing Rohgorahl to blistering chunks, charred flesh and bones: smoke and ashes.

Rodin's wrath was epic to behold!

'He's still alive!' Rayne shouted desperately. 'Let me save him, Elarja, please!'

But Elarja's connection to his father's spirit told him these were just the last exertions of a man very close to death. A final blast of pure energy erupted from Rodin's spear. Light consumed by the endless shadows of demon muscle. Rodin vanished, and the hordes moved in. Demonic wolves ripped at the body of the First Nordic King. Elarja's raged with fury and despair, knowing that they would not even be able to bury his father. His corpse quickly devoured. Devil-Wolves baying in triumph.

'His soul will return to the Harp of Odin,' Elarja said. Only loud enough for Rayne to hear. Others were still fighting desperately to hold back the demon advance.

Rodin's dragon was still fighting the Shadow Dragon in the skies. They swooped and twirled through the shadows and light. A hundred lions' roaring could not create such a sound as these creatures. Rodin's other Dragon Riders flowed through the air around the contest with the synchronisation of birds in formation. Four of the dragons unleashed torrents of blue, golden and crimson Dragon-Flame. Shadow Dragon plummeting to its death as its entire form became encased in a light that hurt the eyes. Fire-Magic of another dragon was really the only known way to defeat a Shadow Dragon effortlessly. Even in this Age his people feared those Demonsouled more than any other creature of the Shadow. The immense ball of heat and light crashed amongst swarms of demons as fire blasted in a fierce dome of pure energy.

Rodin had been caught by surprise. He should have been able to defeat the beast if he had been forewarned of the attack, it all happened so sudden. Elarja considered that perhaps this was Calliach and the Lord God working together to allow Jinn-Fendinn a small victory. Elarja had warned his father of the day he would have died if not for this event. Such knowledge would have endangered the entire history of the world if Rodin had somehow escaped that fate, living for eternity without being bound to the Harp of Souls—

A great series of horns were heard to the south! Elarja looked there to see thousands of _altherin_ horses charging towards the demon horde upon the fields surrounding the mountain path! Every horse had a saddled rider in Elven Battle-Armour. Moonlit metallic weaponry glinted in slivers: Lightning-Spears, Shock-Sabres, Pulse-Shields, Lukrorian Bows. They were Torvellen Aldebrand Cavalry! This region was still watched by Torvellen scouts: defending their territories along the borders of their cities—The great Torvellen underground palaces of Tel'De'Arweniel were only a few hundred leagues south of here. The ruins where Elarja's company had formed a defence was part of an older stronghold and outpost of the Torvellen Kingdom—wrought by Stone Elves deep within enormous caves. Crafted with the assistance of Great Angels of Earth and Stone, Kohbahl, Cable and Runen. Elarja was not familiar enough with this timeframe to know that the Torvellen still ranged this far out.

The riders unleashed torrents of glorious Elemental Magic. Power surging forwards in blinding waves as if an Army of Heroes of Will had been summoned. Even before their charge made impact with the wolf riders Elarja noted that there were several hundred of the Heki'Shienden amongst their ranks. The horse-dragons roared with ferocious bloodlust as the riders tore through the Rohgorahl ranks. Demons wailed, collapsed, scattered or were knocked down, trampled or torn apart! Thunder of hooves and the snarls of defeat amidst clashing steel rang out in the air. Lightning-Arrows split through demon flesh like a hammering by the Gods. Magic-Fire tearing, igniting and exploding demon flesh to blasted black blood, smoking bones and burnt dust. A glorious display of the Old Might of the Immortal Kin.

They were saved!

And perhaps just in time ... The storm and the battle had worked the horses into such fits of panic that some had fled up the mountainside. There would have been a danger of losing the entire troop if the battle did not subside.

Rayne summoned Tohka Reiden for the final thrashing. The Angel ran across silver clouds hurling down Spears of Bolt-Lightning. Blasting demon scum in a clear white fire of incredible destructive force. He focused most of his aim on the demons still surging towards their wall of defence. The Torvellen reinforcements were driving the demons on the battlefield into smoking charred embers: falling on the dirt and floating in the wind.

Within an hour the battle was ended. The storm also faded significantly by that time: rain settling to a drizzle. Distant lightning flickered. Thunder easing to a soft rumble.

Elarja noted the banners of Lord Tallamon amongst the Torvellen riders. The banners flapped glistening wet in the breeze as they made their way up the path. A tall dark eyed warrior riding upon his pale horse amongst his Wolf Guard. In emerald plated armour and Aldebrand cloak. Tallamon greeted Elarja with a look of great sorrow. His eyes would also have noted the fall of Rodin Cloud-Walker.

'It truly is a sad day for the world, Lord Elarja,' Tallamon began in a gentle tone. Despite the gruff hardness of his personality: there was a deep benevolence in the way he spoke the words. 'Perhaps it is too early to discuss such matters, but I am assuming that you're still wishing to avoid claiming the Nordic throne? Your choice to renounce that right is well known throughout the lands.' Elarja nodded as Tallamon continued. 'I only ask as there will be a need to crown a new Nordic King. A leaderless people can be a dangerous thing.'

'Who do you have in mind?' Elarja asked, eyeing the man as if this was far too serious a matter to be burdened with at this time.

'I believe the clans would prefer if that decision were left up to you, Lord Elarja. You have the rightful claim. Therefore, if you do not wish for this entitlement, it would seem fitting for you to be the one to choose the new King of the Nordics. Your father had many sons, seven including you. I wonder though that perhaps the next in line may not be the ideal choice in your personal opinion?'

There was a lot implied in those final words, about the calibre of his younger brother Lenk, who was not favoured by any of the rulers of the clans. Lenk was hot headed and brash, and perhaps poor of judgement. A risky choice despite his right to the claim. 'I will need time to think about that,' he replied. 'We have more pressing matters at hand. I may not be able to fulfil your appointed task before I am off on other adventures. But I will keep it in mind.'

'If you would simply grant me your command as to whom you believe should be entitled to the throne, I will take your decision directly to the Nordic Council of Rulers. With all due respect, Lord Elarja, it might be necessary to avoid civil war, perhaps even a world war.' Elarja considered this more seriously for a time. 'Tell them that I think the right should go to Allon. He is forthright, noble and wise. He is the most appropriate choice.' Making such a decision could still result in war, and Elarja knew he had just made a significant alteration to the timelines. Lenk had been ruler after his father in the original pattern of Ages, and his name was forever infamous for the foul deeds he perpetrated during his rule.

Elarja just hoped that this time, he had made a decision that was for the better.

They made camp within the stone fortification: cooked meals over small fires when the rains finally ended. The amount of lightning that had lanced from the skies during the battle made the small amount of light from their cookfires seem negligible. Jinn-Fendinn knew exactly where they were. Why not eat a hot meal while they had the chance?

The Torvellen warriors kept watch while the companions of the quest curled up on blankets; laid out over cold wet stone. In the morning Elarja woke with fresh tears burning his eyes. He gazed at the rising sun. A blaze of heat that exacerbated searing pains of loss. He had loved his father dearly. The first time Rodin had died Elarja thought he would never recover. Last night he had lost him for the second time.

They found Rodin's crown amongst the ruined demon corpses, and his spear formed of unbreakable navy-blue crystal glass. They built a tombstone of coloured rocks with the crown and spear placed upon them. Elarja spoke words about his father's honour, dignity and the fact that he had ruled with a sense of great purpose. He provided justice for all, and he cared for the carver and the weaver as much as he did the swordsmen or the archer. When the ceremony was ended, Lord Tallamon took the crown and spear wrapped in a large banner. It would be returned to the Nordic city; and granted to the next King. Rodin's people would know of the loss of their Immortal King before that day. Ellanori would return to the city without his rider, and the Nordics would fall into terrible despair.

***

Adem woke drenched in sweat. Laying on his back on a soft bed, in a room lit by a lantern glowing amber on a side table. Somehow, he knew immediately he was on the second floor, a thought that was confirmed when he saw the height of other rooftops through the window in the moonlight. Jean rushed to his side to lay a hand across his forehead. 'You've still got a high fever, Adem! Carl said we nearly lost you again! It's that scar! What did he do to you?'

'I'm working on trying to figure that out,' Carl said. He moved from the shadows towards Adem's bed, Carl's fingers tracing the now more clearly defined black dragon tattoo across Adem's chest. It was as if Carl was sensing the nature of the enchantment with his touch. Adem felt nothing more than his sense of a strange version of Jinn-Magic moving within Carl's mind and soul. 'It needs to be treated soon, or the darkness will spread to infect his entire body. I'm not sure if I will succeed. It seems to be a part of him now. I will do my best.'

'You don't have to talk about me as if I'm already dead, Carl!' Adem replied. Pushing his friend's hand aside to sit forward. His upper body was still naked. He was glad to know he still wore his dark leather trousers. They must have removed his boots while he slept. His dreams had been more horrifying visions of ghost skeletons trying to drag him into those pits of burning shadows. He believed they were only visions, this time, and that he had not truly been in danger of dying. His memory of that first time was a haunting burden every time it crossed his mind. He was not afraid to die, but he was afraid of eternal damnation! It was perhaps his greatest fear of all.

'I trust you have found me a new coat by now?' He asked. He tested his legs and found that he could stand. He was still quite dizzy and drained of physical strength. His old groin injury was also giving him distinct pain, for the first time he could recall in many years. Running long distance and even his grasshopper leap had had little effect on the injury the last time he was here. His life back home had been without much physical strain in daily chores or work. So, he was suddenly shocked at the throbbing pain burning on both sides of his lower abdomen. It was as if those old scars were also becoming affected by the dragon scar and its dark fires.

Janeanne rushed into the room to hug Adem, within the small space between bed and doorway. 'Oh, Father, I was so worried for you! I'm so glad you're up and about again. How do you feel?'

'I'm fine sweetheart. No need to worry over me.' Then he realised from the flowers on the windowsill that this must be his daughter's bedroom, understanding then that he was in Orion and Elmira's manor house. He addressed his next question to Carl. 'How long was I out?'

'For most of the night,' Jean replied. 'It will soon be dawn.' A rooster crowed in the distance as if her words were a summons to the rise of the morning sun.

'And once again I'm the only one who has had any sleep!' Adem said the words with a tone of disgust as if in self-torment, but he was merely making a light-hearted joke about the situation.

'I'll need the White-Witch to treat the wound with her balms again before you dress,' Carl said. Both Carl and Jean eased him back onto the bed with a gentle push. Telsa the Crow appeared shortly after with her balms. When she rubbed them into his scar, he felt some pain ease both in his chest and groin. Carl's work with enchantment following the balms also reduced the effects of the curse that flowed through Adem's veins.

Carl later explained that he wanted to wait until Adem woke before the second attempt at treating the scar, though his friend admitted with regret that again he was only able to slow the spread of the infection. 'I think it will require both _teron_ and _terael_ in a link of wielders at my disposal, to truly work the miracle we need to save you, Adem. Using this altered form of Jinn-Magic still seems ineffective at truly treating the condition. Unless we can restore Angel-Magic to the world, I fear we may lose you to this curse.'

The morning sun was climbing halfway in the morning sky when Adem was dressed and walking downstairs to be greeted by Tobin, Orion, Elmira and Lydia. Tarz and his warriors guarded the house like half tame wolves. The Forsaken General eyeing Adem from the front porch as if seeing his weakness of spirit with those keen immortal eyes and senses. It was likely any wielder that had worked with Jinn-Magic could also witness the way the dragon scar was slowly killing Adem. None of them looked pleased, not even Tarz.

Adem honestly doubted the man was as of yet truly corrupted by Angel-Magic or the Jinn Arts to the extent of betraying them, yet he understood Jean's concerns and distrust also. Anyone who had wielded either of those magic abilities over the past thousand years was in danger of becoming a Shadowsouled. Not to mention the threat of madness that was a burning darkness in the eyes of so many Forsaken warriors.

'Where is Wil?' Adem asked when he noticed his absence.

'He is talking with Shaye, Ellagon and Ragan,' Janeanne answered in a tone that suggested this was very important.

'He is anxious to return to his wife,' Jean explained, 'and he wishes to recruit those men and others to journey with him to the Hive.'

'Then we will go with him,' Adem insisted, lifting his stance as if ready to ride out this minute.

'You require rest, and further treatment, husband!' Jean replied in a forceful yet caring tone. 'Besides, we have another mission that is more urgent. We must reach the source of Komputah's power and destroy it. We believe this will restore _teron_ and _terael_ to the world, and then we will wield Healing-Magic to restore you completely.'

'Yes, that mission has been beckoning for a while now,' Adem agreed. 'So where is the source of this power?'

'I think I know,' Orion said, seated at the long kitchen table on a tall wooden stool. Tobin seated at his side with their wives standing on the opposite side. 'There are rumours of Witches and Warlocks—those who have become greatly corrupted by Angel-Magic and the Jinn Arts—residing at Rolimbtorel, a city of great and ancient magic. Pendral journeyed there with us long ago, and he was greatly interested in the Angel-Magics that flowed through the stone cave walls of that immense underground fortress.

'I believe he must have used the magic of Rolimbtorel to fuel Komputah and generate the far-reaching potential of the devices that are used to access that power. If we can infiltrate the city, and dispatch those that guard the fortress, perhaps we will discover a way to disable it. It would require a great force of wielders.

'I fear the Great Angels would be of little use in this aim, though perhaps if joined in a large link, we might have the strength to destroy those energies and restore Angel-Magic.'

'You believe these Witches and Warlocks are working for Pendral?' Adem asked with interest. The plan had more merit than anything else he had heard so far.

'That is possible, though perhaps these Witches and Warlocks are responsible for cutting Angel-Magic off from our reach. Either way, these seem the most likely reasons Angel-Magic is now lost to us.'

'If you knew this, why didn't you try in the last three years?' Jean asked, to which Orion humbly replied, 'We have followed your decree faithfully, Jean Fairsythe. It would go against that decree if we involved ourselves in political affairs. It would seem that we were giving orders, influencing soldiers, or commanding armies.

'More to the point, it was just a theory. We waited desperately for the Sons and Daughter to return before we made any such attempt.' Jean gave a deep sigh of regret at those words. She held Orion's gaze as she replied, 'Perhaps my judgement was too harsh. I believe I have wronged the four of you beyond any hope of forgiveness. I am truly sorry.

'But the threat of mad Alit'aren was very real and very dangerous at the time. I had to do something to set an example that would have an impact. Perhaps the fact that there are still so many wielders who have stayed faithful to the old decree is testament to your sacrifice.'

'We gave you our forgiveness long ago, Jean Fairsythe,' Elmira replied in a loving tone. 'We are perhaps greater for having received such a punishment. What's done is done, and in the past.'

'What if I could reverse it?' Jean asked.

'What do you mean?' Elmira asked in a shocked voice.

'What if I could restore your power of command? I know it would start endless war to try to reinstate Orion and Tobin as Immortal Kings. But I know that if I give them the right to command armies once more, they will gather a massive and fierce force of warriors faithful to the old Immortal Kings. They will fight to the death at the Ragnarök Battle, knowing they serve just and noble rulers.

'What do you say to that?' Jean's final question was met with stunned silence from the entire room. The four she addressed looked at her as if she had suddenly repaired a great and deep wound that had brought them immense pain for a thousand years. Finally, Orion spoke. 'We would gladly accept your offer, Daughter of Thor.'

Chapter 14

Love of a Vampire

Wil rode out that afternoon, after saying farewell to his friends with big hugs and many smiles and tears. He didn't want to leave them, but his heart was dragging him towards his wife. He needed to see her, to know the face that carried those tainted emotions that he felt of her via the _kigare_. He wanted to be there for her. Wanted to love her again.

With him rode the three companions of the late Rayne Dragon-Sword, Shaye, Ellagon and Ragan, along with forty of the Forsaken Alit'aren and two hundred Aldebrands from the same clan. He did not imagine they would encounter further conflict between here and Nordhel, or the Hive as they now called it, but he still took enough warriors to ensure they were able to get out of any tight corners. In case Pendral and Balor showed up again in a Boli-Kuldr ambush.

Wil knew only too well how those demons had made it past the Green Border. Pendral or another of the High-Servants must have opened one of those Travelling Gates, that were now tainted from the corruption on Angel-Magic. Making it possible to bring demons through the portals that warped space. Traveling great distances in a single step. Wil imagined all of those Portals would have been heavily guarded for the last thousand years, following the battle at the Dawn of the Age of Chaos. The Gates were used to bring demon hordes deep within the territories of the Free Lands. Even as far west as the Kingarin Forest, according to stories he had been told since returning to Kismeria.

This would mean Pendral or whoever brought the demons through would have also made a mess of whatever forces were guarding the Gate. Wil would leave that investigation up to Adem, Carl and Jean. Wil had his wife to think about. Emotions he had felt in Hayley since his return were more than troubling to experience. Suggesting the curse upon _terael_ and perhaps the vampire curse itself that also flowed through Hayley's veins had changed his wife. Changed her considerably from the gentle loving girl he had met at that farm west of Nordhel, way back when.

He began his journey towards her. Asking his Battle Angel, Dis Pater, to inform Hayley's own Angel, Druantia, that Wil was on his way to see her. He sensed new emotions rise in Hayley, joy and excitement seemed to bubble though her spirit like the light of a new day, burning in her heart. A heart that had not felt such light for many a year. He knew then that she still loved him. Dis Pater relayed those exact words in a message transferred from Hayley via Druantia. He sent back loving words. _I could not bear another day of waiting to see you my darling. I will be with you soon._

He was not yet so desperate or foolish that he would tempt fate by entering the Travelling Gate that stood northeast of the direction they were now riding. The last time they tried that, the Gate had taken them directly to the East Lands, rather than the city of Nordhel. Even though the Alit'aren riding with him assured him they had mastered Jinn-Magic-Portals, Wil was as of yet uncertain. The risks were too great when he was separated from his friends. Instead he would trust in the swift feet of his warhorse, even though it might take weeks to reach his destination. It was better than trusting in the will of the Shadow.

***

Shaye Eagle-Soul rode close to Wil Martyr every day of their journey. At night he stayed even closer, sitting by the fire with the legendary Son of Odin, as did Ellagon and Ragan. There was great admiration for the man amongst Shaye and his friends. They looked up to him, knowing they could learn much from the man if half the legends were to be believed.

Yet Wil seemed infinitely more interested in them! He constantly asked them questions about their old adventures with Rayne Dragon-Sword. What was the man like? Did he change much from when they knew him as a boy to the days after he became known as the son of Pendral? Was Rayne a kind person? Was he brave? Did he appear intelligent when making serious decisions? The questions were seemingly endless, about Rayne and his father Pendral, as well as the constant interrogations into the Children of Odin and their Angel-Magic. Wil Martyr was constantly becoming more and more fascinated with both Shaye and Ellagon; though he found any answers they gave regarding Ragan's abilities to be equally intriguing.

It was the fourth day of their journey when Wil's mood changed slightly. He became more inwardly focused. Shaye could only guess at the reasons. Perhaps he was becoming more greatly involved in conversation with his wife Hayley via their Battle Angels, and the communication had become a distraction to his usual focus of interrogating the three men. However, Shaye noticed more about the changing mood of Wil Martyr. It suggested that perhaps Jinn-Magic was already having significant impact on the man's mental health. His moods were darker, disturbed was a better word for it. His eyes often taking on that inward gaze. Shaye was anxious to ask whether it involved communication with his wife, though each time the question formed on Shaye's tongue, he resisted out of respect for the man. Later he would always decide that too much time had passed for such a question to be appropriate without seeming rude or intrusive.

This theory took further shape in Shaye's mind over the next few days. A cold storm blew in from the north, icy winds and torrential rainfall. The change in the weather seemed to impact Wil Martyr's condition tenfold. Shaye decided this theory that the Jinn Arts were at fault, seemed more and more likely the more he thought about it—while he always took care not to mention such matters to his friends, although he was anxious to discuss it with someone, yet the legends of Wil Martyr's immortal traits would make it likely the man also had exceptional hearing—as Wil Martyr was also born of mortal blood, and not of this world. Therefore, it seemed very likely that he might still be particularly susceptible to the mind-altering effects of the corruption of the Jinn Arts. This understanding caused Shaye serious concerns as the days progressed.

Shaye did not know much about the Ragnarök Prophecies, yet he knew enough to know that the Sons of Odin were vital in that cause. They were the crux of hope in obtaining victory over the Shadow at the Ragnarök Battle. It seemed vital then that those three men remained healthy, strong, but most importantly sane!

When the weather improved, and the sun was shining again, Shaye noted some improvement in Wil Martyr's temperament. His mood was still darkened by some overwhelming force, though again Shaye was uncertain whether it was purely Jinn-Magic or also some fear for the safety or wellbeing of his wife. Finally, Shaye endeavoured to enquire as to the source of his personality changes. They rode in the morning sunlight, following the Oak Road that led to the Old King's Road, that had always led to Nordhel in the days when the Hive was ruled by Nordic Kings. 'Your mood has become notably sour these past few days, my Lord,' Shaye spoke the words phrased more as a question. 'It has sparked my curiosity as to whether it relates more to your adapting to wielding the Jinn Arts, or perhaps a personal matter between you and your vampire bride?'

'Hayley is not truly a vampire!' Wil snapped in response. He seemed to hold himself in check as he continued. 'It could be a bit of both. I admit, my concern for Hayley is grave, yet the Jinn Arts also seem to be having a particularly negative effect, much sooner than I can remember of Jinn-Magic on _teron_. I understand your concerns, Shaye Eagle-Soul. I will endure.'

'I know a little of the legends concerning the origins of Jinn-Magic infecting Angel-Magic,' Shaye continued, trying a different line of inquiry. 'It is said that the Sons of Odin were corrupted with a kind of evil force that leads to madness, during a witnessing to ghosts, in your home world? It is my understanding that this force was transferred onto _teron_ , through some link between the Sons of Odin and Angel-Magic when you first arrived.

'Forgive me for mentioning this, Lord Wil. My reasoning is that I believe Jinn-Magic is slightly different, in that it was always a part of our world. Created by Jinn-Fendinn for his Generals to wield against us. Perhaps for this reason, the effects of the Jinn Arts are slightly different also?'

Wil rode in silence for a time. Considering those words thoroughly, before he gave a deep sigh. 'It is my understanding that they are one and the same thing. Adem knows more about it than I do, perhaps even more than Carl, and Carl is the religious expert! But Adem always said there was a danger of all three of us becoming corrupted by that ghost force. It was explained to us that this force _was_ responsible for tainting _teron_ when we first arrived in Kismeria. The words were spoken to us by King Orion Demon-Slayer.'

Shaye rode on in further silence, as the impact of those words settled upon him. The fact that King Orion had spoken the words must mean they were a part of the prophecies, and perhaps part of that information had been a secret amongst Immortal Kings since the First Age.

After a time, he added, 'In my experience, it is better to have knowledge than not have it. The Jinn Arts are something I am not able to wield, as is the case with most Children of Odin. Most of us cannot experience Jinn-Magic on _teron_ or _terael_ either. They say the lightning storms of Odin's Awakening and Return, changed the Children, so that we are able to wield a pure form of Angel-Magic, whether the male or female halves.

'My point here is that, I have never known the troubles of Jinn-Magic, nor have I experienced the foulness associated with the Jinn Arts. Yet in the case of the latter, it means I am also unable to use a very strong form of magic. The Jinn Arts are impressive in their capacities, in some cases it can be used to greater effect against our enemies.

'For that reason alone, you are perhaps gifted in ways that I will never understand; or be capable of.'

'What good is the knowledge of an experience if it also drives you insane?' Wil Martyr asked that question after a grunt that suggested he was troubled by such words.

'Perhaps that is true,' Shaye replied. 'It is something I cannot explain as clearly as I hope to, although I am trying. I guess what I mean is, your magic comes from that tragic experience that forced Jinn-Magic upon your mind and soul. Yet if not for that experience, and the knowledge and abilities that came with it, our world would not have its Saviours.

'So, perhaps your suffering is all part of some divine sacrifice, designed by higher powers to make you capable of fighting our war. If Carl Wilder's teachings are to be believed, perhaps it is a personal quest and test for the Sons of Odin. To grapple with the effects of corruption, ultimately to defeat its hold over you.' Wil rode in silence, appearing to be grappling with an understanding of the concept that could appease his state of mind.

'If that is true,' Wil said, 'what of the rest of you? There are thousands of wielders suffering from the corruption upon _teron_ and _terael_. The world suffers. What purpose does this serve for Kismerians?'

'Perhaps we are all being tested too,' Shaye offered. He was quicker to answer this time, as he had guessed what line of questioning Wil would take in response to his own. 'Maybe the Sons of Odin have brought the ultimate test to our world, and the Daughter of Thor. I have heard her decisions had some involvement in the resulting curse upon the female half of Angel-Magic. This test could be what defines Kismerians as a people. Uniting us after countless Ages of war, bickering between nations and battles of conquest.

'I believe it is all a part of some grand design. I believe the Sons of Odin will still win at the Ragnarök Battle, despite the ways in which Jinn-Fendinn continues to try to drive us all into despair and madness.

'Jinn-Fendinn is the real enemy. We must defeat His Jinn-Magic if peace is ever to be achieved in this world. You were sent to deliver us from destruction. Our fate rests upon your shoulders. I urge you to try to remember that when you feel the weight of corruption upon your heart and soul.' Shaye believed he could actually witness a weight being lifted from the man's shoulders when he heard those words. Wil Martyr breathed a sigh that sounded like relief. 'Your words are encouraging, Shaye. I appreciate you giving such sound advice. I will try to remember.'

Shaye kept quiet for a while, before he brought up another issue, that he had wanted clarified most of his life. 'My real father was reportedly a religious man,' he began, 'and he followed the teachings of the Holy Bible.'

'I understand there are many who have taken up the religion,' was all Wil said.

'This is true,' Shaye replied. 'My father left me this trinket. It is the only thing I have from either of my parents.' He lifted his neck chain to show Wil a small silver cross. 'The Holy Cross of Jesus Christ,' Shaye said, as Wil took a closer look at the embossed images and words.

On one side was the images of a young boy, with a mother's and father's face above him. The boy held a staff with the Holy Cross at its tip.

'Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Pray for Us,' Wil remarked, as he read the embossed writing.

'Yes,' Shaye replied, 'but it is the other side that has always made me wonder.'

He turned the cross over, to show a priestly elderly figure, with the words: _St. Christopher, Protect Us._

'The Patron Saint of Travellers,' Wil replied. 'What of it?'

'It's just that ... ,' Shaye began, then fear got the better of him. 'It is nothing ... never mind.' He clutched at the cross a moment longer, then tucked it back beneath his shirt and did not bring it up again.

They rode on in silence for the rest of the day. By nightfall when sitting around the campfire, Shaye could see that the Jinn was still darkening the personality of this man, who the prophecies said could save them. But they also declared that the Sons would destroy the world. Shaye wondered if the last thousand years were an adequate form of that destruction, or whether it was a fate they still had to face.

***

During the second week of their journey, Wil saw an elderly looking immortal with a long white beard and wise blue eyes, standing in front a large stone. Carved in the shape of an obelisk, obsidian. It reflected the fading light of day as if emanating a strange and ominous force. As he approached the man, he saw and heard that he was attempting some kind of incantation upon the stone. The dark glass marked with strange runes glowing gold and red.

'What is that?' Wil asked. The old man turned: ceasing his chant and arm waving. Holding a gnarled wooden staff, he looked like some kind of wizard. Dark green silk robe worked with golden symbols shaped like horses and lions. A similarly worked conical wide-brim hat. His expression was a mixture of daunted and perplexed emotions at the presence of Wil and his riders, as if he had not been aware of their approach.

He lifted his hat and scratched at his white-haired scalp, staring Wil up and down in the saddle. He gave a sweeping bow, flourishing the hat and using the staff for support, suddenly seeming much younger than his appearance would at first suggest. Such was the way of immortals.

'That, my good sir,' the man began in a warm but rasping tone, 'is a Resting Point for Battle Angels. My name is Cromwed. I am a wielder of sorts, though I was never trained to be Alit'aren. I have stood here at this obelisk for nigh on three years, taking my leave to rest, bathe and eat of course. In the hopes of luring these Battle Angels out of this Resting Point. To join with my staff and assist me in fighting off the bandits that trouble our village.'

'That is a substantial time to make such attempts,' Wil admitted. 'Do you know any secret or legend to unlocking the device?' The question seemed to irk Cromwed. His pale skin suddenly turned bright red in a flushed state. 'If I knew that I wouldn't be standing here now!' he replied in irritation. 'What is your name, good sir? What brings you to these parts with these Forsaken bred? I hope you haven't come to cause trouble!'

It was Shaye who introduced him. 'You are looking at Wil Martyr, one of the three Sons of Odin. I think you are forgetting your manners, old man.' At these words Cromwed appeared utterly astonished. He suddenly got down on bended knee, casting down his hat and staff: palms clutched together as he began to plead for forgiveness. 'I have forgotten my manners completely! I should have known at first glance. Good noble lord, I beg your pardon. Let us begin anew?' Wil nodded agreement as the man began to stand again. This time appearing to suffer from weakened bones as he gave a deep sigh and then a groan, before standing with the grace and lightness of spirit of a youngling. 'There is only one thing I know about any kind of secret, Lord Wil. It is said that only a man who is wise, brave and pure of heart may summon the Angels that reside here.'

'Perhaps you are not completely pure of heart then,' Shaye offered. Cromwed seemed to immediately take offence, as if the words were a total insult and further test of his patience.

'And what is your name, good sir?' Cromwed asked. 'I know enough to know you other three are not any of the Sons! You should respect your elders!'

'I only meant that you are clearly very brave and wise, good sir,' Shaye replied in a tone that suggested he was not intimidated by the old Nordic. He also put some kindness in his response, to which Cromwed suddenly beamed under the words of praise.

'Would you like to try it?'

Shaye got down from his horse: walked towards the obelisk, placed his hand against the dark glass. In that instant a brilliant flash of light exploded from the monument, filling Wil's vision with colourful energies. He covered his eyes to deflect the incredible glare. A moment later, three Battle Angels hovered around the obelisk, two male and one female. One of the males was instantly recognizable as Kohbahl, the Angel of Stone. Ten feet tall, marked in dark runes over skin that appeared like pale rock. A wide jaw with thick stubble like green moss. Wielding a giant double-bladed axe of emerald glowing crystal. Kohbahl appeared almost identical to one of the Battle Angels that had assisted them in the Goblin City, yet Dis Pater advised him this was his Brother. The other male was surely Gwydion. Looking similar to Cromwed: pale silk robes emanated light in the gathering dusk. Gwydion was the Magician God. He had assisted Adem and his friends towards the end of their battles before leaving Kismeria.

The female Angel was short and slender, and very beautiful. He knew she must be Tamigol, one of the Forest Angels. She wore a dress that was almost see-through, pale silken light of frost in the shapes of maple leaves. Long brown hair flowing in locks. Emerald ember eyes.

Cromwed had been back on his knees since soon after the flash of light dissipated. The old Nordic was mumbling. 'You, good sir, are truly wise and brave and pure of heart.'

It was Gwydion who spoke to Wil, in a deep powerful tone, 'Wil Martyr, we have waited long for one who is worthy to summon us from deep slumber. This man, Shaye Eagle-Soul, is one who holds all the necessary attributes to obtain our service. I would personally like to join with your Resting Point, as the Sons of Odin fight the greatest of causes. I would be glad to assist you at the Ragnarök Battle.' Wil was considering allowing the third Battle Angel to join with Ragan, and the other two with Shaye and Ellagon. After some discussion, Wil accepted Gwydion as his second Battle Angel. Shaye took Tamigol into his spear. Ellagon accepted Kohbahl into his golden axe.

Cromwed then stood and bowed to Shaye and Wil once again, before he spoke in the Old Nordic Tongue. Summoning a bright white horse that galloped into view from the nearby woods. Wil was instantly stunned when he set eyes on the mare. It was definitely an _altherin_ breed! The horse moved at a trot to stand beside Cromwed. The old man stroked its mane, before saying to Wil, 'I will gladly trade you your horse for my dearest Ellabatha. This one deserves to fight for a righteous cause. She will serve you well.'

Wil was overwhelmed by the honour of the gift. He accepted, as Cromwed spoke to the horse again, saying; ' _Si tol ma anruta rogardis_ , Ellabatha.' Wil's Battle Angels interpreted the words. _I give you into this noble man's service, Ellabatha._ The horse stamped its front hooves, as if upset to part with her master. Then moved towards Wil, who was now dismounted. Wil found the mare was surprisingly calm in accepting him as rider as he climbed on to the saddle.

'It would please me greatly, Wil Martyr, if you and your companions would visit our village. We have many troubles with bandits. They raid us at night, stealing, murdering and burning crops. They are mostly mortals, but they outnumber us greatly. We have struggled to fight them off completely. They return each week or sometimes even each night.'

'I will appoint my men to guard and protect your village,' Wil replied. He felt this was a cause he could not refuse. 'I will use Ellabatha's swift hooves to reach my wife in short time. Then I will return to see if my associates have rid your village of tyranny.'

Wil gave the men their orders, then rode out upon the fields with the speed and grace that was only capable of immortal horses. Wind flowing around his form and the landscape transforming in a blur that was like some all-powerful spell, taking over his surroundings, over nature itself. Shaye had warned of the dangers of travelling alone before he said his farewells, but Wil was a Son of Odin, and now he had _two_ Battle Angels.

***

Hayley knew her husband was now returning to her with great speed. Druantia confirming that he had obtained an _altherin_ mount, something very rare these days! She informed her daughter Enserah, who was equally overjoyed at the news! They hugged and held each other tightly in the lamp lit cathedral style hall, a place of worship for the Old Gods. There were no statues of Christ or the Holy Cross to hinder the health of her Vampire Coven. Despite this fact, Hayley had also become a person of faith in the Son of God. She prayed to him daily, even though it resulted in terrible headaches. She told herself it was her punishment for the curse that had afflicted her for over a thousand years.

It was in fact one thousand and seventeen years since she was first bitten. Official calendar marking this year as 1017 A.C. or Age of Chaos. Some said the return of the Sons and Daughter would bring about a new Age. There were Prophecies of both the All-Father and Jinn-Fendinn, each promising a different outcome for such a future. Prophecies could be changed. But they couldn't both be right, could they? The All-Father or the Jinn-Lord would be victorious, therefore the conflicting prophecies must be open to possible alterations. Based on the acts of the warriors most strongly linked to the Hero Chain. The Sons and Daughter first and foremost, but also the Children of Odin, the Heroes of Will. Even her Vampire Coven and the Forsaken might be worthy of such links to the Chain. Driving the Shield of Fire and the Great Cycle of Ages.

'Your father will be arriving in a few days,' Hayley told Enserah. 'You must prepare. I will have you bathed, perfumed and dressed in your finest gown for his Arrival Ceremony. I must alert the Alit'aren, Aldebrands and Ael Tarael within the Coven. My husband must receive a warm welcome that signifies his honour. One that shows deep respect for one of the Sons.'

'Will he not be in great danger, Mother? Travelling alone when he is such an important figure? What of the prophecies about him? How is he? Is he well?'

'He is as good as can be expected, dear daughter. The Jinn afflicts him greatly already, but there is still light in his heart. A flame that we will kindle with our love and admiration of him. Do not speak of the Dark Prophecy to your Father when we first meet him. I will decide when the time is right.'

'Yes, Mother, oh, I promise!' Enserah took a step back to gaze into Hayley's eyes as she exclaimed, 'You are looking under the weather, dear Mother! Have you been drinking your normal share? You know you need it to remain healthy!'

'I am just pressured by so many things, Enserah! The world is in chaos, close to ruin. We are among the few with any hope of putting things right again, yet the Martyr Coven is a despised people. We are forced to remain shut in here in the darkness. Sleeping through most of the daylight: only free to wander the Free Lands under moonlight. It is a terrible restriction, limiting my ability to transport my forces. Especially now that that Angel-Magic is gone. We have no Portal-Spells to carry us across great distances.'

'What could be the cause of such a disturbance, Mother? I have thought about it many times, but I cannot find a definite answer. I still await the report from my scouts searching out Rolimbtorel. I believe that is a good place to start!'

'Witches and Warlocks would not likely have the capacity to wipe out Angel-Magic completely. Despite Battle Angels and Children of Odin still being able to wield _teron_ and _terael_ , the impact of such a restriction must be created by some massive form of magic. Perhaps my husband will have further news.'

It was then that Druantia informed her that Wil's Battle Angels had relayed the real cause. Enserah's theory was pretty close to the mark. She related the news to her daughter and Enserah positively beamed with delight to have been on the right track all along.

'We must keep this a secret between ourselves, Enserah. The mission of the Sons and Daughter could be compromised if Jinn-Fendinn's spies were to learn of this.' In truth Enserah had been more perceptive than Hayley allowed her to know. Hayley had been abstaining from her regular cups more often of late. A further punishment for her altered state from the woman her husband had first met. Hayley knew she must appear beautiful, healthy and vibrant when Wil arrived. So tonight, she would drink more blood than usual.

***

Larg Keledren, High General of the Martyr Coven, overheard the conversation between Hayley Martyr and her daughter. Using his exceptional immortal senses to detect the words over a reasonably short distance, but between many dividing walls. He would need to inform the High-Servant the next time he visited. Pendral and his Hex-Keepers would need to put plans into action.

Larg had served Hayley for over a thousand years, always seeming faithful and subservient—and in truth she was the second woman he had ever loved in all his years, as she was beautiful, courageous, and she had a dark soul—but Larg was never able to free himself from the clutches of the Shadow.

In truth, the High-Jinn had nothing to hold over him except death and damnation. But the latter was enough to keep him in check. Working with the minions of the Shadow, including communication with Koncha, his former vampire leader via the High-Servants. The Witches and Warlocks of Rolimbtorel were also a part of that grand scheme. A network of evil corroding the heart of the world.

The High-Jinn would know of this already of course. He would have witnessed it through the eyes and ears of Hayley and Enserah, as well as Larg's own mind while eavesdropping. Jinn-Fendinn knew everything that went on in the minds of wielders. His communication with his Generals was weakened by His diminished strength. As well as His imprisonment deep within Kerak'Otozi. Pendral and the others would know of it soon enough of course, yet they would still contact Larg. Commanding him to commit further treachery. His soul was all but sold down the river of fire. Nowhere to run even if he considered escape.

He returned to his chambers. Pendral emerged from the shadows in his dark hooded cloak. His blade was sheathed, which brought Larg some relief. They thought they could still use him. Pendral, or Koriken Demonfist as he insisted on being called, spoke with a soft madness. His mask removed to reveal a face that was twisted with hatred and apparent nausea. 'You were supposed to summon me at the first moment of any news on the whereabouts of Wil Martyr!' There was passionate insanity to his tone. 'I know now that you have been avoiding your commitments to my service. I will remember that when I no longer consider you to be of any use. You will receive a special form of punishment. Skinned alive: boiled in oil over a raging flame. We will soak your bones in Hellfire Acid to finish the job. I look forward to hearing your screams of agony, dog!'

Larg quickly told all he had overheard from Hayley. Although he loved her, he was a dark and terrible soul also. He did not fear death, though he still dreamed of eternal salvation. Even though he knew it probably was just the madness getting to him too. He believed if he could avoid death for as long as possible, there was some hope of redemption in the future.

When Pendral learnt that the Sons and Daughter knew the source for cutting Angel-Magic off from Kismeria, he snarled like a feral wolf. Baring his teeth as his rage filled him near to bursting!

***

Wil did not stop for the first day of riding, yet he did not wish to tire the _altherin_. He was sure Ellabatha was capable of days of riding without rest. He stopped however, at intervals, whenever he reached a village along the way. It slowed his journey so much that he decided it would've been best to bring a suitable guard with him. Traveling at a slower speed from the outset.

The reason he was slowed was that he was gaining a following of riders at every village. It started with three Aldebrands and their two Ael Tarael. Tall lean Nordic men with sword hilts rising above their pauldrons. Two women of exceptional Torvellen beauty. Dark haired: burning black eyes, tan skin. He found it impossible to refuse the riders from joining his quest. The Ael Tarael knew him the moment they spotted him, only by his physical appearance. They insisted that he allow them to follow, to provide protection on his journey. He gave in.

Next it was a number of soldiers at the following village. Wil was reluctant to stop there for this very reason, yet the other riders had no immortal horses. So, he allowed another rest. More warriors insisted on joining his quest. He accepted with a grimace.

At the next village, his entourage brought the attention of Shadow Wolf Aldebrands. A patrol from the Green Border. They were not Forsaken warriors. Yet Wil could see in the eyes of these men that they had at least wielded the Jinn Arts during the last three years. Or Angel-Magic had brought some corruption upon their souls, during their lifetimes before _teron_ became unreachable. There were two hundred of these men that wanted to join. They were undoubtedly amongst the finest swordsmen of this Age. Agnars with some capacity to wield the Jinn. So, he allowed it while groaning at the time he was losing.

By the time he had visited ten villages, over six days of riding, he had a small army riding at his side. His forces continued to swell, until the day they approached a large cross standing in the field near a number of farmhouses. The memory of Carl making the cross suddenly flashed through his mind. He realised that this was Hayley's home!

This was where she grew up. He and Hayley had been married here under this Holy Cross. It throbbed and pulsed with a blood red glow, the presence that emanated from the monument was ominous and dark. Wil wondered at that. It seemed likely that whatever Power of Christ had resided in the Cross was becoming influenced by the Magic of Jinn-Fendinn. Possibly due to so many wielders now practicing Jinn-Magic.

Whatever the reason for it, Wil did not like it. It felt wrong; made his stomach clench in disgust. He suddenly felt nauseas and tried deep breathing to bring a state of calm. He could see that the farmhouses were abandoned. They were different to those he remembered here a thousand years ago. It was likely they had been rebuilt a number of times during the Age of Chaos. It was possible that whoever had lived here before the farms were abandoned had been from a line long separated from Hayley's true blood kin.

He suddenly felt terrible sadness from Hayley via the _kigare_. He realised, she must know where he is, possibly communicated via his Battle Angels to Druantia. Wil felt a terrible flood of guilt for that day, when he had chosen to win the attentions of a young woman. Hayley had reminded him of a girl he had known back home. The result was that he married Hayley that night. Soon after she became a target of the High-Servants. She was bitten by a vampire; and had lived ever since with a terrible curse in her heart in soul.

He decided then that things might have been better if he had just avoided talking to the young woman that had caught his eye that day. Perhaps then, even if Hayley had only lived a normal mortal life, she would have lived in the heavens in peace and glory until the end of time.

'Do we make camp here, Lord Wil?' Ael Tarael Glendella asked him in her cool polite tone.

'No, if we ride on, we will reach Nordhel sometime before midnight. I want this journey to be over with. My wife is anxious to speak with me. I will not let her wait another day.'

At the last village they had spent the night at, Glendella had arranged for two banners to be made. One was the sigils of the four Rohjors, the Wolf, Lion, Fox and Dragon. The other was of the Black Shadow Wolf. Black and silver on blood red silk. That banner would draw more warriors to his cause as long as he allowed it to be shown. He also felt that it was right. These people needed a cause to follow. Those banners were perhaps an irresistible summons to any warrior who wished to oppose evil.

The other concern was that they were approaching another Travelling Gate. Wil had been increasing the size of his forces by another means this entire journey. Packs of wolves that spoke to his mind—via a similar ability to the _kigare_ —had been joining his ranks for the past two weeks. He was not sure exactly how many wolves there were in total. With over twenty in most packs, and his current estimate at over fifty packs, he had the ability to scout the surrounding forests and hillsides while his enemies were likely unaware.

It was the second hour after nightfall when one of the pack leaders sent a warning. The howl of wolves could then be heard to the north, followed by the grunts and snarls of thousands of Boli-Kuldr on the horizon. A dark shining mass of armour, blades and spears; hooves stomping the earth in a wild stampede. Beasts with heads of bulls, rams and even lions or bears charged with impossible speed as the earth trembled and the demons roared. Some carried large cages held by four of them on poles. Their orders would likely be to capture Wil if possible. Others wielded black sabres taller than any man. Spears with blades the size of broadswords at their tips. Wil began to realise how foolish he'd been to separate from Adem and Carl.

'What are your orders, Lord Wil?' Ael Tarael Synthia asked in a controlled tone, despite a hint of fear.

'We try to outrun them!' Wil shouted, using the Jinn to amplify his words across the air. Riders began to gallop, many breaking ranks as the horses neighed in panic. Wil rode ahead to lead them, continuing east towards the Hive. Some of the riders narrowly escaped the charging Boli-Kuldr. They galloped in a desperate attempt to outpace the bloodthirsty pursuers. Wolves joined the chase, thousands of wolves. Leaping to chomp and shred through individual demons: pushing them to ground to bite through throats in black bloody sprays. Boli-Kuldr ranks spread out. Forming a wall that would become a pincer movement if they managed to overrun the horses.

Wil sensed the bloodlust of those wolves. They hated Boli-Kuldr with a vengeance, but there were more demons than wolves back there. Boli-Kuldr were fast runners, stomping the earth with their massive bull and ram shaped hooves. Growling in the tongues of evil beasts!

Wil would not summon his Battle Angels, unless, they became trapped in some valley or mountain cutting them off as a wall of cliffs. The land might have changed from the flat fields he could remember the last time he had travelled these roads. He sent a warning to Hayley. Not asking that she send help, just telling her Battle Angel to inform his wife to be ready. They were bringing a battle to her doorstep.

***

Hayley and Enserah had donned their battle armour, soon after Druantia sent the alert. Larg Keledren, her High General, had summoned a large force of vampires, to saddle up and prepare to ride out on to the fields. There were thousands more on the walkways of the city walls, armed with bows and arrows, as well as some wielders capable of devastating attacks via the Jinn. Most of the Hive had woken long before the call to arms began. She had gathered a force of over five thousand riders: nearly half of them already positioned on the field surrounding the gate.

Others would pour from side gates to attack on the flanks when the Boli-Kuldr reached the city walls. Crushing the demons with Archers, Aldebrands, Alit'aren and Ael Tarael wielding Hellfire-Arrows and spells of Jinn-Magic. Along with over a thousand heavy cavalry to charge and trample the enemy. Hack them down with blades, spears and lances.

Hayley did not summon Druantia until she knew Wil was close. Soon she could hear the thunder of hooves approaching. Waves of riders flowed into view on the moonlit fields. Boli-Kuldr hordes in pursuit swarmed on the western horizon. Black plated cuirass and silver spiked pauldrons were a writhing sea of glistening metal. The ground trembled under the hooves of those massive beasts. Hollow wails and grunts of bloodthirsty beasts.

Wil's riders were looking ragged after being pushed so hard, their horses breathing hard and lathered in a foam of sweat.

Hayley gave the signal, summoning Druantia as a flare of emerald filled the sky, arcing over the field to the west to shower the riders in light. Illuminating the demons also, as her Archers and other Aldebrands upon the fields let arrows fly. A thousand black shafts fell and split through Boli-Kuldr skulls, throats and chests. Three or four shafts striking to pummel individual beasts into the dirt! Those attacks were aimed primarily at the Boli-Kuldr looking likely to close the gap between the fleeing riders. Fired on the flanks of the demon horde, cutting down hundreds of Boli-Kuldr that collapsed in pools of dark blood. Allowing greater chance of an escape for Wil and his forces. Another two waves of arrows and hundreds more demons collapsed in piles. Hindering those charging behind the fallen ranks. Boli-Kuldr began to fan out around the fallen bodies. An assault of Hellfire-Arrows launched on both flanks, from the north and the south, blasting skulls apart and ripping burnt holes through breastplates. Tearing limbs free. Demons wailed: bleeding stumps spraying black blood.

The gate portcullis remained closed at this point. She would not risk those demons getting inside the city. Their numbers were great, and Boli-Kuldr could still hunt and move about in daylight. Making it possible for them to break into homes and even the fortress itself to hack through sleeping vampires in their tombs in the days that followed. She had to keep them out, but she could not risk losing her husband either.

For this reason alone, both Hayley and Enserah joined the riders that poured from the South Gate. Hundreds of warriors charged around the city walls, to meet with Wil and his riders as they approached the West Gate. Hayley summoned Druantia. Suddenly the front lines of demons were being ripped down into the ground. Coils of vines and leaves reached up like arms, crushing some like ripe fruit to burst in a dark spray. Others were dragged under the earth, screaming wildly in pain and terror. Small marching trees with dark eyes and wicked gaping maws picked up Boli-Kuldr to bite off skulls. Black blood flowing down their trunks like dark sap. Walking trees punching holes through throats and chests with branches like arms and fingers like knives.

Wil was suddenly by Hayley's side, glancing for a moment at Enserah, surely knowing instantly that it was his daughter. He shouted the names of his Battle Angels, and Dis Pater and Gwydion appeared to join the fight! The Magician God hovered beside Druantia's emerald robed form. The dark-haired female Angel immediately forming a Link with both males. Gwydion released swarms of Pixie Wardens, palm sized fairies of blue flame that flew like bolt-lightning. Tore through demon chests, gaping holes seared through breastplates or skulls or limbs blasted apart in bloody sprays. Boli-Kuldr fell clutching bleeding shoulders or legs ripped at the knee. The forested night filled with their hollow wails. Wardens blasted ram and bull, lion and bear skulls apart in bloody black bursts. Decapitated demons fell with black blood spurting from their necks in dark fountains.

Dis Pater charged forwards, appearing small compared to the Boli-Kuldr. Golden axe alive with brilliant orange flame, the blade hacked through limbs: decapitated or split skulls in black sprays. Sheets of fire roaring from the weapon as the axe cleaved, spun, whirled: split breastplates, shattered flesh and bone!

Archers and Aldebrands wielding bows formed lines to unleash waves of arrows. Dark shafts filled the night sky, punching through skulls and chests. Cutting down demons by the thousands. Crossbows aimed in lines from the north and south flanks. Ripping off limbs or punching though thick shaggy demon thighs to halt the Boli-Kuldr in their tracks. Bolts tore through black armour and demon skulls as if they were formed of melted black butter.

Riders on the flanks began a charge. More than a thousand heavy cavalry. Attacking from the north and south: rushing the demon ranks, striking with whirling blades. Tore through armour with spears or lances. Demons were crushed, trampled or ripped apart with enchanted steel. Her warriors were all vampires, they were stronger and faster than most natural immortal breeds. With the Archers to harry the demon ranks and the force of those charging cavalry, these creatures did not stand a chance. Druantia's Tree Men and the larger Green Men made of mess of the demon ranks that still pushed forwards. Ripping limbs and skulls free, demon skulls devoured in gaping maws. Green Men stomped the Boli-Kuldr like squashed fruit, bodies bursting in blasts of black blood. Electric Emerald Dwarves coursed from the impact of each strike, hacking Boli-Kuldr down at the knees with green-ember axes.

Soon the enemy was cut down to a small few: they fled in terror of impending death.

Her city was saved, and so was her husband!

That night, when they were alone together, Hayley remembered the reason she loved Wil Martyr so much. Together they stayed up until the dawn, making love in endless passion. She was glad to know his desire for her was stronger than ever before.

Chapter 15

A Precious Relic

Adem followed Orion Demon-Slayer through the woods towards the old cemetery. The former Torvellen King halted in front of a large bronzed sculpture of both Terese Sapphire-Sword and Arig Flame-Bow. Standing back to back, Terese with her sword, Arig with his bow. It was a fine work of art; the likeness of the two so exact that Adem thought the artist must have met the pair during their lifetimes spent with the Sons and Daughter.

Orion bent down to scratch away at some earth and dry leaves under the statues. His fingers found a heavy iron ring that he lifted, and pulled, to open a trapdoor. Opening in the fading light of day to reveal a descending staircase of stone.

'Here!' Adem shouted in exasperation. 'You left the Harp of Souls here all this time? Under a statue of the two Heroes of Will that assisted the Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor in the living flesh! That is sheer madness, Orion!

'A three-year-old could have worked out that it was buried here! What made you think it would be safe from the High-Servants once they returned?'

Orion stood looking down into the darkness of the tomb with a perplexed expression in response to Adem's harsh words. He shrugged his shoulders and replied in a gruff tone, 'I knew I had to keep it somewhere, and the trapdoor remained hidden, as you can see.

'I no longer have fancy castles with secret passageways and enchanted locks to hide away such relics. So, I did what I thought was best.'

'You mean the lock on the chest that holds the Harp is not even protected by some form of Lock-Magic?' Adem was astonished at his own question.

'Fortunately, not,' Orion replied with a grin. 'For if it were, I think any of us would struggle to learn how to disable it without Angel-Magic at our disposal. Even using the Jinn to unlock such enchantments is a skill that High-Servants are more attuned to, I think.'

There was some wisdom in those words, Adem regretfully admitted to himself. Even if there had been some magic on the lock, the High-Servants would have easily discovered a way to disable it. If they had learnt that the Harp was hidden in this network of tunnels that held the tombs of perhaps hundreds of dead Nordics and other warriors of this region. Adem discovered the large store of coffins when he followed Orion down the steps. Engraved or carved with images of warriors holding their swords to their breastplates, wearing helmets with long hair on the women and beards on the men. Orion and Adem wielded balls of blue flame above their left hands, a variation of the Jinn to light their way. Both had their blades sheathed. It seemed unlikely there would be anything dangerous down here, except perhaps for a giant rat or two.

As they progressed through the network of tunnels, Adem began to see more clearly why this place was not such a bad idea for hiding the Harp. He did not believe he would find his way back without Orion to guide him. The paths they took towards the location where it was hidden was an intricate puzzle within a maze, including a number of hidden doorways of stone that rolled or were raised: allowing passage when Orion found hidden levers in the shadows. Adem's confidence in the wisdom of this man began to grow again the more he saw along the way.

Further along they began to descend a path that was connected to a series of bridges and winding paths, supported by stone columns. Adem gazed into the dark abyss. He began to see stone structures, doorways, high stone walls connected to walkways and other evidence that this was not just a tomb. 'Where are we?' Adem asked his companion, to which Orion replied, 'Holdhafthall. Ruins of an ancient underground city crafted by the Torvellen long ago. It is deserted; and has been for many an Age. The ruins run deep through this network of caves. There is gold down there: treasure too, but not where we are going.'

'I'm starting to think we should have at least brought Tobin and Carl along with us,' Adem suggested, to which Orion replied, 'The dead cannot harm us, Adem Highlander. There is nothing to fear down here but rats!'

'Great!' Adem replied. 'I hate rats!'

'They will likely flee when they see our lights,' Orion said, continuing to descend the walkways into darkness that seemed to push against their spheres of fire.

'Are there any ghosts down here?' Adem asked with caution. He hated ghosts even more than rats. Evil ghosts at least.

'None, other than the ones we are searching for, hopefully,' Orion replied, and that last word was spoken with some hint of amusement.

'Are they big rats?' Adem asked after a time.

'The last time I was down here I saw one that was rather dog sized.'

'What kind of dog?' Adem asked alarmed.

'You will be safe with me at your side, Adem Highlander. Do not fear the dark. Here it is ... Peaceful. Don't you feel it?'

'I just want to get back to the surface as soon as we can,' Adem said, gazing around at the shadows while being extra careful not to trip on the precarious pathways. 'Was the rat big dog sized or little dog?'

'It was almost as large as a littler breed of dog, like the fluffy furred little snow breeds we call Tikus.'

'Sounds like a Maltese Shih Tzu,' Adem said in a calmer tone. 'That's a relief to hear. But that's still one _bloody_ big rat!'

'They are easily dealt with if they become aggressive. Just try not to get bitten. They carry a terrible plague.' Adem cursed under his breath which brought deep booming chuckles from Orion as they continued to descend.

After a time Adem began to get a creeping sensation of someone watching from the shadows. A predator stalking them on the path. He soon mentioned this to Orion, and the former King replied, 'Yes, I have sensed the same for a short while also, from behind. Someone must be following, but who could it be? I closed the trapdoor, and we were not followed through the woods. I fear it was someone already down here.'

'I thought you said everyone down here was _dead_ , Orion!'

'I did say that. Nevertheless, someone is following. I sense a kind of evil presence about them. It heightens my awareness of being watched, gives me the shivers.'

'Should we try to backtrack and surprise them?'

'No, they are cunning. I sense that also. They will surely see us approaching with our lights, and you would be blind without them.

'We will continue on and hope that they get lost in these tunnels once we enter the city.'

'Lead the way then,' Adem agreed, though this time he did stumble on the path as that sense of being watched suddenly increased tenfold. 'Did you feel that?' he asked Orion, to which the Alit'aren Aldebrand replied softly, 'Yes, there are now many eyes watching us from the shadows. Do not draw your blade unless I say so. Keep close and be on the alert. Do not continue to stop and turn to look back on the path.

'I will do my best to try to get a good look at our pursuers.'

'So, we just talk like normal?'

'Yes, walk and talk as you wish. Let them believe we are either unaware or that we do not care. That way they will likely move close enough for my sharp eyes to catch a glimpse of one of them.'

And so, as they continued on, Adem asked, 'Orion, how did you manage to keep the location of the relic a secret? Considering the fact that Jinn-Fendinn knows our every thought?'

'That is not true,' Orion replied in a correcting tone. 'Jinn-Fendinn cannot read our minds. He does not know our thoughts, only what we say, see or hear. For this reason, the exact location of what we seek remains unknown even to me.' Adem stumbled again before he asked in agitation, 'You mean you don't even know where it is?'

'Not entirely, Adem Highlander. Allow me to try to explain. To get the relic out of sight, I had to trust it into the hands of those that were not wielders, so that the delivery of the object would be unknown to Jinn-Fendinn for all these years. The actual packaging of the relic was also done by those that would not be unwilling spies for the Shadow. This was accomplished through various forms of coded information and conversation between me and these other parties, to the extent that I did not even know where the object was contained when it was taken away.'

'Deviously clever,' Adem admitted.

'Our recent conversation would have alerted Jinn-Fendinn to our plans. However, from what I have learnt of Jinn-Fendinn these last thousand years, I am almost certain that he will have difficulty alerting any of his Generals to this fact anytime soon. For this reason, I saw no need to bring others. More to the point, now that I am able to wield the Jinn, I think Old Orion Demon-Slayer and Adem Highlander would be capable of handling anything he might try to throw against us!'

'Except perhaps Pendral,' Adem agreed.

'Yes, Pendral is very powerful, but mad also. Before he became completely mad, he was cunning as a fox, an expert strategist. I fear he may still have moments of such genius at his disposal.

'You must find a way to defeat him eventually. Whether it be to overpower him, or to reason with him to the point that we may win him back.'

'I don't think that is at all likely,' Adem said. 'My son is very far gone.'

'Yes, but he is also your son, Adem. You must find a way to reach him, or else you will be forced to discover a way to crush him into oblivion.'

At that exact moment, Orion spun to face the pursuer. His large dark eyes searching off into the shadows with a burning light within those orbs that gleamed with proof that he had seen something. 'Yes, I have caught sight of one of them. I'm sorry to tell you this, but I fear the presence of the Harp has awoken some of the sleeping corpses, returning some sense of spirit to those decaying bones and flesh. That is the description of the one I have just now seen. He is tall, he wields a rusted sword, in the armour of the old Torvellen Kin, and he has not been a living body for a very long time.'

'What could have preserved his body all this time?' Adem asked in horror, searching the darkness while fearing to catch a glimpse of this monster.

'Here, underground, in these caves, at the right temperature and humidity, anything is possible. You will soon see for yourself that the years have not been kind to this one. I fear there are more out there, and that the many pairs of eyes we sense belong to more of his kind.'

'Should I ask Carl to send some help?'

'They will get lost more likely than find us, even with Carl and Jean's Battle Angels to sense for your own. No, we will find the Harp then we will fight our way through. There can't be more than a few, perhaps a dozen or two.'

'But will they fall down dead and stay that way?'

'We will have to discover that when the time arrives. I fear your scar will also call to them. Even if I was able to wield a spell to hide our light, they would still be able to track us.'

'So, we prepare to fight?'

'I am always ready to fight, Highlander.' Of all the people he could be down here with, Adem was suddenly glad it was Orion Demon-Slayer. He was very glad to be carrying Arawn in his blade also. Soon however, he knew he would not make it out of here alive without either one of them to guide but also to protect him. The scar was eating away at his physical strength. It was corruption of the flesh and bone rather than the psychological taint on _teron_. He felt the wound begin to throb with a warm dark painful glow as he sensed the Draugr creeping closer.

He had spent the better part of the last two weeks taking bed rest, yet they had wandered these tunnels for half the night already, and now he was beginning to feel weaker than ever before. He believed these Draugr were feeding the wound with their darkened spirits to increase the impact of its negative effects. He wanted to summon the Jinn to his defence; but that corrupt magic was so vile he avoided it until the necessary moment.

He guessed it was nearing daybreak when the sounds of dead souls murmuring began to fill the darkness around them. Adem shouted; 'Arawn!' The two men drew their blades, emerald and golden light shining in the shadows. Draugr warriors poured into the light! Some were awkward moving figures of grotesque rotting flesh. Others looked more human, and those ones moved faster. Wielding old swords and axes as Adem and Orion began to unleash Hellfire with a vengeance!

Arawn guarded the third position of their back-to-back defences, the Battle Angel wielding his blade of crimson flame to hack through corpses as if they were made of straw. Body parts began to fly, though there was no blood. Crimson ignition launched from Arawn's blade: setting rotting flesh alight in pillars of inferno. Bodies collapsed in piles of black ash and crumbling burnt bone.

The problem was that the Draugr kept appearing; hundreds of them. Adem's stamina was being drained by his throbbing scar as if Jinn-Fendinn had tapped into his breathing and blood flow. Extracting his ability to stand let alone wield the Jinn. Arawn would not last much longer either. They had become trapped here as Orion was having trouble opening the secret door located in this section of the city. They were trapped; surrounded by walking dead! The moans and vicious screams of hundreds more Draugr sounded from the shadows all around. Adem swung his emerald blade as sheet-lightning tore through dozens of chests and torsos. Bodies blasted to emerald ash embers. Skulls hit ground with that pale light still glowing in the dark empty sockets. He booted one of those skulls that was attempting to bite off his foot.

He crushed his left fist, light flaring in his palm as dozens more bodies burst to flickering ashes like hay bales struck by lightning. Arawn planted the crimson blade into the stone floor. A savage blast of Storm-Flame launched outwards in sheets and waves. Incinerating over a hundred of the Draugr in a conflagration of blistering heat. They were charging into the light with the ravenous ferocity of zombies desperate to feed. He thanked God none of them had started moaning ' _Brains!_ ' He created a spell for Lightning-Hail, formed via the Jinn, as emerald spheres of energy the size of grapefruit fell like rain, smashing, burning and blasting through skulls. The fireballs set fire to those they struck, as Elemental Magic began to spread through the Draugr ranks with a will of its own.

Orion's Golden Tigers joined the battle, as the immortal continued his attempts to open the door. Formed of shadows as if their skin were made of tar, flashes of golden stripes danced across their flesh. The beasts roared as they charged to push enemies to the ground, biting off skulls as white heat flashed in their crushing jaws. Skin ripped from bones with metallic black claws.

***

Carl had monitored Adem's progress through the underground maze most of the night; with Jean close by, also gaining communication via Tanriel. Now they were both more than worried. Adem had reported being trapped by the Draugr army, and they were preparing to rush to his aid. But they both knew they would have little chance of reaching him in time. For this reason, Carl had another idea.

'I think I will be able to make a small Portal-Spell, to take a few of us directly to their fight, but it is dangerous. Using the Jinn for this ability involves potential risks I have not yet fully worked out.'

'We have to try, Carl!' Jean shouted in reply, both of them in dark armour with Tarz and a few of his Forsaken standing close to her. 'We will leave Tobin with Lydia and Elmira to watch over Janeanne. You can make the attempt, bringing Tarz and me with you!'

'That seems the most sensible plan,' Carl admitted. He gripped the dark spear and began to harness Jinn-Magic to make the attempt. It took some time before he thought it might work, but suddenly a flare of crimson filled the air beside him, within a room on the second floor of Orion's manor. The Portal-Spell was a round wall of darkness, edged with a red glow like Lightning-Acid. Carl warned them not to get any of those edges in contact with their skin as they tried to pass through.

It had worked, however. Carl could see Adem and Orion fighting in the darkness within the Portal-Spell, some way off in the distance. Rotting corpses rushing to attack them with swords and axes, the two men holding the attackers back with only their swords. Carl sensed that Adem at least was beyond enough strength to wield Jinn-Magic. Arawn was also returned to his Resting Point, which told Carl they had arrived just in time!

Jean leapt through the Portal-Spell before he could warn her further. Carl quickly followed with Tarz leaping through last. Carl's fears for the dangers associated with the Jinn-Portal were confirmed when he turned to see a flare of the edges of lightning leap out to strike Tarz on the right side of his face. The man groaned as Hellfire Acid ate into his flesh, though Carl quickly used his skills with Jinn-Magic to reduce the corroding effects of the flare, and they had all wielded Shield-Spells before stepping through. The flare had broken through Tarz's defences however, to the extent that a terrible wound now covered that side of his face. It would leave an impressive scar if the man survived.

Despite this, Tarz was first to leap into the attack, striking hard at a wall of Draugr with Hellfire Spears. Jean summoned Tanriel and wielded an assault of Acid Javelins. Tanriel began to hurl Flame Spears from higher up within the chamber. Crimson shafts of incinerating cinders split through skulls, chests and throats of the cursed corpses. Hissing acid stripping flesh from bone. Bones burnt to black smoking char collapsed in piles. Carl summoned Math Mathonwy to lend his aid with Shadow Hounds. The Hounds numbered close to twenty, an impressive improvement from when they first arrived. They howled and snarled, chomping down on skulls or ripping skeletons apart with powerful paws and claws. Soon the enemy was reduced to a few that scattered in fear of destruction.

Flame Spears had set hundreds to burning embers further out. Blasts of gold and crimson vaporizing flesh and bone in raging conflagrations. Mathonwy flowing through those walls of blazing heat as a Fire Angel of Hell. Decapitating, splitting skulls: hacking through torsos in vehement chaos combat.

'Come with us, now!' Jean shouted to Adem, who looked weary to the point that he might collapse at any moment.

'We are here for the Harp!' Orion shouted in reply. 'You must aid us until we find it, then we will flee if you can form another Portal!'

And so, when Orion was able to figure out how to open another door within the chamber, they moved on together, further into the maze city. The thought that was troubling Carl now was, he considered the risks of forming another Portal-Spell to be too great, and he feared they might have to fight their way out of here. Travelling back the long way.

***

Adem's scar was causing him terrible pain: draining him of strength. He felt the watchers in the dark feeding the curse with their dark powers, but also drawing from it. Zombies that lived off the spirit of corruption. His sword was still drawn, giving some light. Jean wielded a ball of blue flame to produce a bright glow along the path. Carl, Tarz and Orion gripped their weapons, ready to fight!

'How do you know the way through this endless maze?' Adem asked in frustration, to which Orion simply replied; 'I am Torvellen.'

'What makes you think you can find the Harp if you do not know where it is?' Jean asked, and Orion replied, 'It is linked to me, it calls me to it. We are nearly there.'

And sure enough, after passing through a few more doorways, and after spending at least another hour traversing through the city, they reached a plain stone chamber with cave like walls dripping water into a rock pool. Beside the water was an iron chest, and within that chest, was the Harp of Odin!

Orion lifted the relic out, wrapped in a black and golden banner made of silk. The sigil of the Golden Tiger, Orion's House. After unwrapping the relic enough to ensure it was what they had sought out, Orion tucked the bundle under the crook of his left arm, while still gripping his golden blade in his right fist.

'Can you form another Portal, Carl Wilder?' Orion asked with desperate eyes.

'I don't think we should risk it,' Carl replied. 'Look at Tarz, that flare could have killed him! I think we should backtrack and fight our way out if necessary.'

'I see your point,' Adem said, looking more closely at the wound on Tarz's face. 'We have the Heroes of Will with us now. We should make it out.'

'I would not summon the Heroes unless it is vital,' Orion replied. 'This journey has taken longer than I had guessed. I fear the Shadow may be planning to strike at us here while we attempt our escape.'

The risk of death via one of those Portal-Spells still outweighed the promise of another battle however, so the small party began to make their way back through the city with haste.

Eyes of Draugr watching from the shadows.

***

Jean was feeling weary after a few more hours of racing back towards the surface. Climbing steep staircases were straining her physically. She had gone without sufficient rest for many nights leading up to last night. Concern for Adem kept her awake as she stayed by his bedside while he slept these past two weeks. Last night she had not slept at all, as she was frantic about Adem and Orion alone down here with an army of Draugr.

She felt those cursed beings stalking her from the shadows every step of their flight towards safety. They were hunting them, perhaps hundreds more than they had already faced. Seemingly cunning as well as corrupted. Some she had fought had been nothing but bones in armour, terrifying skeletons wielding rusted old swords and daggers. Their horrendous screams made her blood run cold. Empty black eye-sockets lit with spiritual fire.

Fortunately, Orion assured them they were nearing the surface. Orion opened another doorway of stone that rolled to one side after moving some hidden lever. They entered a smaller chamber filled with tombs of ancient warriors, Nordic and Torvellen. This must be the tombs that led to the trapdoor Adem had described to her. They were close to escape. She was relieved to know they had cut off the path of any of those Draugr in pursuit.

She felt a cold shiver down her spine when one of the coffin lids began to slide to one side. Moans of many dead souls began to fill the chamber all around them. At that moment Balor appeared in a flash of burning orange. The Battle Angel joined by three High-Servants. Dark cloaked and hooded, surrounded by crimson auras. Pendral was not amongst them. He could see that one of them was Torkhan. Well known for leading demons such as Nymloc and Jacoulra.

Adem, Carl and Jean summoned their Battle Angels. Light pushed through the darkness. Math Mathonwy rushed to strike at Balor, blades clashed in flickering crimson. Thunder boomed as lightning blasted from the force of impact. Arawn hacked at Torkhan's Shield-Sphere. One of the other two appeared to be Drakrost Goblin-King. A force of evil flowed from these beings in waves.

Tanriel hurled Flame Spears at the other High-Servants. The attacks met with crimson Shield-Spheres in a blast of colour and heat. The High-Servants retaliated with blasts of Hellfire. A wild conflagration swept through the chamber. Jean and her companions quickly formed Shield-Spheres to deflect the blasts. The hottest summer day heat could not compare with how she felt as golden-crimson flames surged around her.

Draugr were now rising from coffins. Most were caught alight by the flood of flames: screaming as flesh was stripped from smoking bones. Some that were purely formed of bone continued forwards—clothed in armour melting to magma slag—wicked daggers clutched in bone claws. They charged with great speed: hissing and screaming as they battered at the Saviours' Shield-Spheres.

Tanriel began to assault the Draugr that were of greatest threat. Flame Spears turning skeletons to piles of glowing ashes. Arawn and Math Mathonwy continued to attack Balor from both sides. Balor deflecting their attacks with his crimson axe and Shields-Sphere, while the High-Servants continued to fill the chamber with scorching fire.

Adem, Carl, Tarz and Orion were wielding the Jinn to fight back against the High-Servants. Yet their attacks were futile against Shield-Spells wielded by the Hex-Warlords. Jean hurled Hellfire and Acid Javelins—in blues, golden and emerald magic—each attack striking their Shield-Spheres to no effect. Her attacks simply dissipating in crimson flares. She guessed Adem was too weary to summon any of his Golden Soldiers. She sensed that terrible scar draining his strength with a vengeance—

It was then that she noticed light appearing in the distance. Above and behind the High-Servants, and she realised that someone had opened the trapdoor! Forsaken warriors began to pour into the chamber, garbed in dark armour wielding blades of glowing steel. They lashed out with Hellfire to strike at the High-Servants from behind, many of them linked in their attacks. Sphere-shaped shields of the Jinn surrounded each Forsaken warrior. They unleashed their assault against Balor. Striking the Battle Angel from behind while Arawn and Math continued to hack at his Shield-Spell. Blades of light flared and flickered: blasts of Elemental Magic tore through the air with incinerating heat.

Sensing their time to retreat, Balor vanished in a flow of magma that returned him to the Underworld. The High-Servants vanished in shadow-mauve burning warps. The flames subsided. Forsaken moved their attacks against the remaining Draugr, striking with Hellfire-Acid to melt flesh and bone. Rotting corpses collapsed in burning piles.

Jean later learnt it was Janeanne who had sent the rescue team. Adem had communicated with her via Shienden, the dragon giving the message to their daughter's mind with enough time for her to send a force of Forsaken. They had been waiting close to the cemetery with Janeanne, Tobin, Lydia and Elmira, as Shienden had informed her they were going the long way home.

Jean decided she would try to get a good night's rest tonight. If she could handle the nightmares.

***

The next morning, Adem and his small army rode out of Red River, on a quest to return Angel-Magic to Kismeria. They did not bring the Eva'Hahlen, as Jean would not allow it. She told them she was grateful for their assistance during the attack on the village, but that she had a sufficient number of warriors with her to ensure success on this mission. Adem knew she truly did not yet wish to make any sort of bargain with more potential madmen.

She gave no argument when the Dark Elves assured her that they would remain to keep watch over Red River until she returned. Adem guessed she must have seen some advantage in this that was not worth refusal. He wondered if Jean could also learn to appreciate the potential of joining forces with the Eva'Hahlen, despite the risks associated with such decisions.

Their army included a thousand of the Forsaken warriors. Perhaps not enough to survive another attack by Balor and the High-Servants, without the assistance of their Battle Angels, but surely enough warriors to deal with a few Witches and Warlocks at Rolimbtorel. A smaller force should be able to move more swiftly, breaking camp with less of a trail, and this would perhaps make it possible to reach the underground city with some degree of the element of surprise. They needed to catch the enemy off their guard.

They brought Janeanne as well, of course. The entire mission up until now had been to get to their daughter and ensure her protection, as long as they all remained here in this world. Orion and Elmira would not be separated from the young woman even if they were ordered to. Tobin and Lydia felt much the same way about her. They also allowed a small group of Children of Odin to join them. Handpicked by Tobin and Orion for their unique abilities, and the fact that a pure form of Angel-Magic was still available to them. There were apparently none in Red River with the ability to perform Healing-Magic via _teron_ or _terael_ , however.

The Children were more often gifted with the knowledge for Destruction-Magic. Healing-Spells were relatively unknown amongst them. If they could not restore Angel-Magic to all wielders soon however, Carl had insisted they must seek out one of the Children of Odin who might be able to assist with an attempt perform Healing-Magic upon Adem's scar. Even a good night's rest did little to rejuvenate his spirits. He still felt drained, weakened and wounded.

The fact that the Children could still wield Angel-Magic was an interesting thing to consider. Likewise: with the Battle Angels, despite the fact that the latter were only now regaining some of their former strength. It reminded Adem that _teron_ was always detectable when he tried to reach for it, yet it remained beyond his capacity to grasp and hold on to it. It was blocked from him somehow, but not from everyone.

They rode at a swift pace, though none of the horses were _altherin_ , which made for a slower journey than he would have wished. Rolimbtorel was located beneath the mountain ranges bordering the Hardark Rohn region and the Kingarin Forest. It would take nearly a month to arrive at the rate they were going. By then it would be early autumn, but the winter snows should not begin to fall for at least another four to six weeks. Then it would be even more difficult to travel, and Carl's Jinn-Portal technique still seemed more dangerous than it was worth. Rodriel Tarz's facial wound was significant. Already his right eye had turned pale. The burn was becoming a thick scar that was currently pale pink but also very red in places. Adem did not want to risk Jean's lovely face with another attempt, nor his daughter's. It was also possible the risks were more serious injury or death.

Adem had been shocked to learn that a Torvellen city had stood beneath lands that had been ruled by Nordics for tens of thousands of years. During their lonely journey through Holdhafthall, Orion had explained that long ago there were many Immortal Kings. Clans shared regions that had later become divided. Some building cities on the surface, some below the earth. Others built cities in the high mountain cliffs, and they were known as the Sun Kin, and the Cloud Kin. That was during the Ages when there were more clans than existed now. Orion had been reluctant to relate the full history of the downfall of such clans. This world had suffered so many tragedies, its people pushed to the point of extinction on so many levels, by the ever-present threat of Jinn-Fendinn and his minions.

On the third night of their journey, Adem found enough strength to attempt sword practice with Orion. He knew he needed more training if he was to defeat his son. He also believed he may also lack the necessary strength in any of his magical abilities. Pendral was strong, but his madness could possibly be used against him. Adem had seemed able to disable Pendral to some extent when he talked to him of Isabelle and Rayne. He believed this was because they stirred deep emotions and powerful memories for his son. Pendral's unbalanced character suggested this might be his only weakness. Adem began to wonder at how he might use this to his advantage.

Reasoning with Pendral seemed otherwise impossible. His madness was explicit. It corroded his heart and soul. His son also obviously held deep animosity towards Adem for not being there during his childhood, his apparent abandonment of Isabelle. Thinking of that woman brought pain, but he used the pain as fuel. Emerging as a thirst for vengeance as he moved through the sword forms. Orion's golden sword clashing with his emerald blade in the light of the nearby campfires.

The contest was watched by many, including Tobin, Lydia, Elmira, Jean and Carl. Janeanne was further off, under heavy guard as she communicated with Shienden—as the dragon was following from the skies and he landed at their camp each night—via the mind communication they shared. Old Karbul the Giant also sat with those that watched, and he occasionally let out a booming chuckle when Adem looked to be getting pushed beyond his limits.

His mind was not as focused as it should be though. He desperately required daily Healing-Magic to reverse the terrible effects of the Jinn Arts upon his mind. Madness was resurfacing after so long without his medication. Thoughts of distrust to the point of paranoia would rise like bubbles from heart to head. An all too familiar feeling of being overly emotional also returned. When medicated, he felt stable, even to the point that he was so calm most days he was without any definable state of emotion: just balanced.

Orion began to push back with a vengeance. Meat Cleaver, flowing into Water Dance, as Adem deflected with Corn Harvest and then Hawk Moth Flutters. Adem had already begun to break out in a sweat, but the cool breeze brought a sense of calm as he sought the Tar'deith. Becoming one with the elements; his breathing slowed as did his heartbeat. He was learning to accept part of the Aldebrand gift upon his soul. It would be of great assistance. It was perhaps a necessary addition to his abilities considering the draining nature of his scar. The gift would provide strength and endurance when all else was depleted. Then his blade would be his only form of defence.

It reminded him of his sword training when he first arrived in Kismeria. His Agnar instructor had tried to teach him that although Angel-Magic was a fine weapon, his blade must be his primary form of attack and more importantly defence. Hard steel was the last barrier between life and death in a world such as this. Adem knew it would not save him against Pendral or the High-Servants. Yet he also knew that if he was able to create a strong enough Shield-Spell to deflect Elemental Magic, his sword may still be the key to victory. His last means of defeating such enemies.

Kailus Broeduthar was his name. Agnar and sword trainer at Nordhel. A tall imposing bear like figure, with a temper to match. Adem wondered at the fate of the man as he continued to defend against Orion's strikes. So many old friends he hoped to see again one day, yet the chances that many of them were now dead and gone often made him hold his tongue rather than inquire of their whereabouts. Kailus was Nordic, but the man was not a member of the village at Red River as far as he knew. That surprised him to consider, as it would've seemed predictable that the man would travel there to be a member of the community that was secretly run by his former Nordic King.

When the contest was ended Adem felt revived. His spirits lifted. He had more energy, yet the corruption upon his mind left him seated by the fire in a bleak state, as he inquired of Kailus. Orion explained that he was residing at Orodhel, serving King Turin as Agnar and sword trainer there. Adem was glad to know the Old Bear was still doing what he was best at, and that he had a noble cause to follow. Training the defenders of the Green Border.

Tobin sat beside them. He added that his son Turin had finally won the crown through some political manipulations. Foremost being Tarz and his Forsaken, for while Turin maintained his alliance with Tarz's Alit'aren and Ael Tarael—the real defenders of the Border—other lords and ladies soon joined him also. Until he had enough supporters with large enough armies to win without further contest. Tobin warned that Turin would be displeased with Jean Fairsythe's acquisition of Tarz and the Forsaken. 'It will allow those that wish to oppose his title to begin to question that authority, perhaps gaining alliances with some of his current supporters.'

'Your son will have to deal with it,' Adem replied.

That night, as Adem drifted into sleep, he opened his eyes to see a pair of red eyes burning in the darkness. Knowing it must be a demon of some sort, his first instincts should have been to sit upright and call for aid, yet his lethargy was dominating, and he wasn't certain whether he was actually awake or dreaming, so he lay there, staring into the shadows. Emerald blade glowing by his side, and those red eyes beaming as the creature crept closer.

It spoke to him in a devious whisper, yet it was excitable. Adem did not detect any degree of evil emanating from the demon that he now saw was a black skinned Nymloc with short dark goat horns. 'Highlander? Yes, it is you! Oh, it must be! I have been searching for you! I have a message for you!'

Adem yawned, moving his hand over his mouth as he spoke in a drowsy tone. 'You are surely a demon trickster. Go away! Leave me alone so I can sleep.' He rolled over to turn his back to the Nymloc, as it spoke again to say; 'Oh! But you are asleep, Adem Highlander! Here I have found you in the Realm of Dreams. It is here that I met your grandson, Rayne Dragon-Sword! I know him well. We are old friends! I can take you to him. I can show you!'

Adem considered the demon's words, sitting upright to gaze around at complete darkness, other than the glow of his blade. There were no campfires, there was no army. He was completely alone with the Nymloc. He realised then that he must be dreaming. 'Rayne Dragon-Sword is long dead and gone,' he told the demon. 'What tricks are you up to?'

'No, Highlander! You are wrong. Rayne Dragon-Sword lives! I will show you. Doorways of space and time are beginning to fold. Our world is nearing its end! Rayne is far, far from here. Distance of vast space and time. But you can reach him! You must follow me and learn the truth.'

***

Rayne was walking through a pale mist ... No, clouds. He was walking on a field of clouds, high up in the sky under a full moon. His awareness of being in the Dream Realm was barely palpable. Still, somehow in the back of his mind he knew this was not entirely real. Yet dangerous ... Yes, this place was filled with dangers. He tried to imagine himself wearing something fitting of walking through clouds, weaving the dream around him until he was robed similarly to Rodin Cloud-Walker. A golden crown appearing on his brow as a lightning staff suddenly burned bright in his right fist.

No! That was too personal. Poor Elarja must be so distraught over the loss of his father. Rodin had fought so bravely before his death, performing the duty of an Immortal King to his subjects. Joining them on a daring mission at the cost of his own life. The crown and staff vanished with a thought. He replaced the robe with clothes of white light, similar to his Battle Angel, Tohka Reiden. His sword hung from his belt. He continued to walk, pacing along fluffy silver clouds: drifting before him as a pale glowing mist.

Suddenly he heard voices approaching. A man, and the other belonged to someone that he had not seen for a very long time! He watched as the little Dream Nymloc—that had befriended him long ag—appeared, walking towards him through the white haze. Halgahir was leading a man with brown hair and a trimmed moustache, wearing Alit'aren black in the style of the Forsaken. Rayne had never met this man, yet he knew him at first sight. It was the legendary Adem Highlander. The Blue Water Dragon. His grandfather!

Despite the rush of emotions, Rayne remained on his guard. He did not draw his weapon. Instead he waited for them to move closer, as Halgahir spoke in his sneaky voice to explain; 'Here, Adem Highlander. This is Rayne Dragon-Sword. I told you it was truth. Halgahir does not lie.'

Rayne looked at the man as he stared back with eyes that looked weary but also alive with emotion, cautious, yet beaming with pride to see his grandson alive and well. That is what Rayne guessed from Adem's expression. 'Is it truly you, Rayne? I was told you were dead.'

'Elarja RinHannen rescued me, grandfather. I must tell you of our mission. We are currently in the ancient past, seeking out the Battle Angels of old to join with me and my companions. If we succeed, we will bring them back to the present. Then the might of the Angels will be restored to that of the Old Ways.'

Highlander seemed to be looking inwardly at those words, as if he were speaking with his Battle Angel to confirm Rayne's identity and words as true. Rayne had consulted his own Battle Angel for the same information about Adem. Suddenly, Adem Highlander moved to reach out and hug Rayne with both arms. Holding him tightly to his chest in an embrace of two men who had never known each other, but were joined by blood, spirit, flesh and bone. Carrying the same curse for over a millennium. Rayne hugged him back, knowing this might be the only time they were able to meet. Calliach would return to claim him when the mission was complete. Rayne hoped that meant he at least had until the Ragnarök Battle was ended.

As they stood back from their embrace, a red bolt launched from the sky above. They turned to see Pendral appear on the clouds with the Battle Angel Balor. Halgahir vanished with a terrified scream. Rayne summoned his Battle Angel at the same moment that Adem shouted; 'Arawn!' Rayne was horrified to see proof that Balor was now a Servant of the Shadow. Tohka Reiden and Arawn rushed him with their lightning and steel. Balor was small, human sized like Arawn, but Tohka Reiden was taller than a Giant. He hurled fistfuls of lightning tridents at Balor. Arawn locked blade with axe, crimson and blue thunderbolts filled the skies!

'So,' Pendral remarked with a scowl, 'we have here a family reunion. A line of cursed men to bicker and squabble until death!'

'It does not have to be that way, Father!' Rayne shouted in earnest. 'We could be truly united once more! With the three of us together, we can face anything. Even defeat Jinn-Fendinn!' Pendral laughed at those words. His illness extremely apparent in his expression 'You could always join with me, my son. You too, Father? Do not run from your fate!

'Know this Rayne; if you submit to the High-Jinn, he will grant you immortality. Not even Calliach will be able to end your life with the Shadow to protect your soul.'

'Lies, Pendral!' Adem shouted. 'You will say anything to achieve your aims! I am told you were once the greatest hope for Kismeria! Now you threaten to destroy us all?'

'No!' Pendral was trapped in a fit of lunacy. Face contorted with rage and sickness. 'Not you, Father. Not you either, my son. The High-Jinn has plans to make you rulers in His name. I promise to preserve you, your flesh and souls, but the world will suffer in agony and despair. It is Prophecy. It is your fate. You cannot escape!

'Join with me, and we shall rule together. As we bring this world to ruin!'

'That will never happen, Pendral!' Adem shouted.

'Listen to reason, Father!' Rayne cried. 'We need you on our side! The world needs you!'

'The High-Jinn needs you!' Pendral roared, pointing a finger at both Rayne and Adem. 'He has plans for us all, _great_ plans!' His voice was filled with optimistic insanity.

'We will not join you, Father!' Rayne shouted over the thunderstorm. 'I fear that here and now we will have to fight it out, or you could simply leave us?' Rayne sensed the Jinn building in his Father. Pendral prepared an attack of great force while the Battle Angels fought in the lightning filled skies above. Instinctively, Rayne formed a link with Adem, his grandfather harnessing Jinn-Magic, while Rayne was able to use Angel-Magic. They sent out a destructive bolt of pure white energy. A combination of the two Magics. Pendral released a blast of Jinn-Magic. The energies expanded quickly. Two massively surging bubbles of light, racing towards one another. Meeting in the middle in a terrible clash of light: the sound of the fabric of space and time being torn down the middle!

Light filled everything. It was everywhere ... Rayne was floating ... No, falling ... No, he was flying ... Crawling, moving through the endless searing light that was blinding and also rejuvenating ... He felt more alive than ever before, a single boat on a distant shore ... Rayne woke in the middle of their campsite. Most were asleep around him except for a few of the Nordic and Dremelden Aldebrands keeping watch over the horses.

Rievenna slept peacefully on a blanket by his side. He also noticed Hamuko awake and watching him from the darkness. The Child of Odin's dark eyes seemed knowing of his experience. Rayne could not reason how that could be unless he had been spying in the Dream Realm. The more likely reason was Hamuko had watched Rayne sleep, and had guessed from observation that Rayne was having more than an unusual nightmare.

There was a faded memory he tried to regather. Something Adem Highlander had shouted to him the moment the two blasts of light had collided. He had shouted to 'save' someone, or something. The last word was drowned out by the terrible sound of energies on impact. He knew it was vitally important. At least to Highlander it was, but Rayne could not recall the word he had barely heard. Was it a name of someone, or of something? He sat staring into the hot coals of the campfire. A dark mood set upon him, the lingering fragments of the curse upon his mind and soul. Parts that even a pure form of Angel-Magic could not burn away. He told himself he must control it. This world could not afford to lose another Dragon-Sword to the allure of the Shadow.

***

Adem woke in a cold sweat, heaving for breath from the terror of his nightmare, though he knew it was also real, and that his grandson, Rayne, was still alive! At first, he was not certain who he could share this important news with. He decided after a short time he should at least tell his wife. He used his Battle Angel to inform Tanriel, and therefore also Jean. He watched as her eyes became inward while listening to the message from her Battle Angel. She glared at him as emotions ran wild through her spirit, detectable to his own heart and soul via the _kigare_.

_It is a good thing, Jean,_ Adem sent from Arawn to Tanriel. _He's still_ _alive!_

Jean's shoulders trembled before she sent her reply, though her eyes had changed to sad compassion as Arawn sent her words to Adem's mind.

But how long will he live? Do not grow attached to him, Adem. You know Calliach will hunt him any way he can. Rayne's fate is riddled with greater doom than your own now. Do not try to protect him. You already know how that will end. You will doom us all if you try.

The wisdom of her words washed over him. Soon he too was trembling with anxiety and potential madness. Knowing he was helpless against the Angel of Death did not frighten him. It was just an impossible obstacle that blocked his potential to do something good; and more importantly to save the lives of those he loved and needed. The strain of it was a weight upon his mind, and the Jinn was quickly eroding his resistance to the threat of madness. Yet he needed the Jinn to survive. It was in some ways much more powerful than even his ability to manipulate matter. Yet he decided then and there that he would defer to that somewhat weaker ability whenever it could be used effectively. He could not allow the Jinn Arts to corrupt his soul beyond saving. He had to remain sane, that was even more important.

He tried to breathe slowly to calm himself and also trying to avoid the onset of a mad migraine. Those headaches were a sure sign that his resilience was about to break. He watched as Carl approached the campfire. His eyes aflame with the knowledge passed to him via his Battle Angel, Math. Adem had not instructed Arawn to inform his Brother of Rayne's survival, though it was sometimes difficult to stop those two from communicating when they considered the importance of such messages. It was the same with Dis Pater, and Adem also considered that Wil would hear the news before long.

Chapter 16

Banners of Ancient Kings

Once Orion and Tobin raised those banners of their Rohjor's and ancient Houses, it was difficult to stop the warriors that flocked to their sigils to serve as faithful followers. They had four banners that had been stored away for over a thousand years. Two were the Red Fire Lion wreathed in gold on ebony silk, and the Blue Water Dragon lined in silver on grey. The other two were of the Golden Tiger and the Grey Altherin Stallion, Banners of Ancient Kings dating back to the Age of Heroes.

Any immortal would know those sigils at first sight, and they were amongst the first to join Adem's ranks in the early days of their journey. In this region that was still a Nordic province, there were immortals of every clan scattered about in small groups. Dremelden Archers, Ruhalden Shipwrights and Shorewardens. Torvellen Alit'aren and Aldebrands, and Nordics of every trade imaginable, though most were warriors at heart. There were even some Forsaken and Dark Elves that wished to join them. Adem did what he could to convince Jean that it would increase their chances of success.

'Our numbers already swell by hundreds,' he told her. 'We can only benefit from a variety of skills.' Eventually, Jean submitted, and by that time they had gained over a thousand new recruits, though it didn't stop there. Soon they were met on the road by large armies. Led by lords and ladies of great Houses, both immortal and mortal rulers. There was still great admiration and fond memories and tales of the old days when King Orion and King Tobin kept the peace in the Four Lands, readying Kismeria for the First Arrival of the Sons and Daughter. Within two weeks they were a force of over seven thousand riders. Although it would be impossible to avoid the watchful eyes of their enemies and the spies that served them, they now had an army that would crush any resistance by these Witches and Warlocks of Rolimbtorel. Adem felt confident things were really falling into place.

Word that the former Nordic and Torvellen Kings were able to lead armies once more had begun to spread across the Free Lands. Leaders of armies, clans and even nations were said to be stating their allegiance to Orion Demon-Slayer and Tobin Fire-Heart, claiming that they were prepared to march under their banners. Even to face Jinn-Fendinn in battle at Kerak'Otozi.

Tobin and Orion were amongst the few remaining bloodlines of ancient strength in _teron_ and therefore also in the Jinn Arts. Their names were legends told of in bedtime stories and sung in old songs, forged from memories and tales of their rise to ruling. They were also great leaders. Expert tactical decision makers; wise and just. They had foresight, but also strong moral codes. They would not waste lives in battle unless it was necessary. Every warrior that bled for them was held in the highest regard. Praised with honour for their bravery and sacrifice.

Adem was more than grateful for Jean's decision to grant them their right to command armies once more. It had the potential to alter the fate of this world completely. It was needed to unite these lands for the ultimate of challenges they would ever be forced to face.

Though, those banners would not be welcomed by every leader across the Free Lands. Even the current rulers of the Nordics and Torvellen would see a return to power by these former Immortal Kings as a great threat to their own claim to their thrones, wealth and status. This of course had the potential to spark the flames of war across the Free Lands. There was also the threat from Hex-Keepers and High-Servants, who would likely target this army and those that rallied warriors to their cause. Perhaps putting the former kings and their wives in danger equal to that of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.

But those four were never afraid of anything. They had faced greater trials than Adem had yet faced, and they had met with danger a hundred thousand times or more, of that, he was certain. They would not fear death in the name of the old Aelfin decree. Fighting Jinn-Fendinn since the First Age. Opposing evil in every form it took shape. Striving to bring peace and hope to a world of eternal destruction and misery. Throughout that history the Aelfin had brought light, music, beauty, wisdom and magic. They were a pure form of the Lord's Power and Creation. Much of that old magic still resided in the spirits of Orion Demon-Slayer, Elmira Golden-Braid, Tobin Fire-Heart and Lydia Ever-Light.

Two of the more familiar faces to lead armies to their cause were met on the West Sea Road during the third week of their journey. The now very aged immortal Fien Marghotha, a Captain General known the world over for his countless achievements in battles and the man was also said to be as cunning as a fox. His wife, Lady Jeimella, rode a slender white mare beside Fien's tall grey stallion. The pair had eyes like hawks as they looked upon Adem's forces, leading an army of mostly Torvellen almost equal in size to their own.

It was Orion who moved his dark stallion before the lord and lady to give greeting and welcome them under his banners. Their words were full of warmth and wit, the two men expressing the remembrances of a friendship shared over numerous Ages. Elmira soon moved alongside her husband to give greeting to Lady Jeimella. Adem remarked that the last thousand years had not been unkind to the once youthful looking immortal woman, who was perhaps more mature looking due to a perceivable increase in wisdom in her large Torvellen eyes. Otherwise the only sign of ageing was a streak of silver through her fringe. Her dark hair now longer and tied in a thick plait similar to the style worn by Jean and Terese Sapphire-Sword at the Dawn of the Age of Chaos.

Adem wondered if such subtle changes were a deep sign of respect to both Jean and Terese for their work and sacrifice during that Age of battles and bloodshed. The woman's short dark silk skirt and woollen coat both embroidered with White Snow Fox sigils suggested his theory was quite accurate. It was the braid more than anything that suggested this style of fashion was more deeply embedded within the culture of these lands. Rather than a quick change of outfits by leaders like Jeimella, once they learnt that Jean Fairsythe led Lord Tarz and his army of Forsaken.

Adem noted that the pair led a small group of wielders amongst their ranks also. Alit'aren and Ael Tarael, half a dozen of each, and all of them glaring with the dark eyes of tainted souls. Corrupted by the thousand-year evil of cursed Angel-Magic and the darkness of the Jinn Arts. When facing over a thousand Forsaken warriors amongst Adem's ranks, along with the Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor, those corrupt expressions soon became meek as kittens being stared down by lions. Adem decided he would watch them carefully, for any sign of those dark auras. He knew that at least some of those possession demons had escaped Kerak'Otozi over the last thousand years. He needed to remain wary in case any were capable of infiltrating his defences. Becoming spies but also a serious threat to the safety of his appointed leaders.

***

Rayne's riders moved across a fast-changing landscape. _Altherin_ bred horses moved with a swiftness and grace that made the eyes blur as the land shifted and morphed from forests, to rivers, mountains and fields. Eleven days after the battle against the wolf riders, they approached a huge forested area. Surrounding the massive peaks where Odin's Seat was situated at the peak.

The horses had made the journey short for them—the Giants loping alongside made for a slower journey than they would have hoped, but the necessity to reduce the pace at times assured their mounts remained fresh—and they had crossed a large section of the entire ancient continent in a matter of weeks.

The forest would take days to traverse, perhaps a week or more. Thick lines of trunks and tangled pathways of twisted roots would make it impossible for the _altherin_ to bolt. Land also rose in staircase levels towards the foot of the first mountain. There was no way around it. The forest was also home to Druantia's Children, who were welcoming to Immortal Kin in these days, but Rayne would need to prove his worth to them, before they would allow the company to pass their borders and scale the massive mountains.

There would be Wood Kin within the forest also. They would likely appeal to Druantia's Children to accept the importance of their mission, but they were difficult beings to persuade when their Gods were a part of the matter. Rayne would require some sort of miracle to make them believe.

At the borders of the forest the trees were still enormous, though they were much taller further in. Monstrous towering oak, pine, woodash and silvergum, redwood, crimson maple and cherry blossom, as well as the many sacred trees that shone with a brilliant colour and light. Branches and leaves emanating the ancient magic of these lands.

There were large statues at the doorway entrance to the forest. Bordered by high stone cliffs that served as a long passageway leading up to the arching tree branches and darkness within. A void of shadows. The twin sentinels were creatures with lion bodies, heads of eagles with feathered stone wings, wielding huge stone swords gripped in human fists. Even in this early Age, the statues were crumbling grey stone. Weathered by wind and rainstorms. Elarja explained that the sentinels were a magical ward against demons and other Demonsouled. Making it difficult for such enemies to enter the forest.

Rayne was glad to know this when the Dragon Riders began to swoop over the stone corridor where their horses were gathered. Dragons roared ferociously to warn them of an approaching demon army. The corridor was too narrow for any of the Dragon Riders to land. So, the riders entered Mikihara Forest. Not knowing the scale or spawnbreed of the demon force that pursued them from the south.

***

Shaye, Ellagon and Ragan had remained at Cromwed's village for nearly a month now. Waiting for Wil Martyr to return and claim his Forsaken army. Still they waited. Attacks had been frequenting upon the small community of Harlgraven, at least up until the moment Shaye brought his forces to defend the village.

There had been a few more attempts by bandits since that time. Most of them mortals in leather face masks and dark studded armour, wielding clubs, knives or hammers mostly. They acted fierce when they began to invade, but Shaye and his warriors put fear into their hearts. Driving them off with spells of fire and lightning. Ragan and the Forsaken wielding the Jinn Arts to terrifying effect, against any that were foolish enough to confront them.

The villagers were very grateful for the protection. They paid Shaye's army well with stables to sleep in, refreshed with clean dry straw every day or two, and warm blankets. They could not complain about the food that was provided either. The villagers doing their best to always provide a roast of some sort for the warriors to enjoy. Breads, cheeses, and often a large pot of oats with fruit and cream was cooked up for breakfast, nearly every morning of their stay in fact. There was no wine or ale, but they provided plenty of their spicy apple cider, that had a nasty kick if you ever over indulged.

Something still troubled Shaye. Something was not right, but he could not put his finger on exactly what it was. The bandits returned again and again. Each time with a larger force, yet that seemed foolish. Shaye and Ellagon had already demonstrated that they each held a Battle Angel in their Resting Point weapons. This should have been enough to keep the danger away, but these bandits were persistent. Shaye could not figure out why. The village had little wealth. Even though poverty was rife throughout the Free Lands, there was greater conquest in other parts of the world. So, why did they keep attacking this village?

He considered this question over and over again in his mind as he and his companions sat around a large fire where two goats were roasting on a spit. He stared into the flames as night began to close around them. For the first time, Shaye thought he could sense the approach of something worse than bandits. He thought he could sense the presence of evil making its journey towards the village. Something big, something terrible. He sprang to the alert, telling the Forsaken to double the watch and fan out in stealth attack mode. 'Keep your eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary!' Shaye commanded. 'A Demonsouled creature approaches! When you see it, send up the signal!'

***

Wil sat in the large bedchamber he shared with his wife, Hayley. Their daughter, Enserah, was also with them. Seated at her mother's feet, cross legged in her pale blue dress with layered lace skirts, holding Hayley's hand as Wil sat beside his wife. The two of them in large high-backed throne style cushioned armchairs. But suddenly Wil sprang to his feet and began to pace, the mood between the three of them was tense to say the least.

Enserah had just shared her discovery via Komputah's records of Prophecies concerning the Sons of Odin. It was Hayley who had done most of the explaining. Wil had listened patiently, yet that dark curse that was promised in those prophecies soon began to fall upon his shoulders. He tried to shake them loose, yet he knew a part of it had already come to pass.

He had remained at the Hive for nearly a month now. Ever since he arrived, he had felt the pressure of his need to return to his forces. To lead them on the same quest where Adem, Carl and Jean were headed. A considerable portion of the warriors that had joined him after he met Cromwed and received his _altherin_ mare, had remained here within the Hive. Somewhat reluctantly, though they remained to protect him if he decided to leave without Hayley's vampire army. Those he had kept included a force of Forsaken warriors, all of them Agnars. Many were also adept at wielding Angel-Magic and the Jinn Arts. Others he had sent back to the village where Cromwed had requested aid to defend against bandits. Occasionally he discussed the troubles there with Shaye via their Battle Angel telepathy.

Wil became stuck here by another need, his desire for his wife, and his hopes of becoming close to his only daughter. Enserah had lived over a thousand years without ever knowing him, yet the woman was still a lovable child in many parts of her personality. She was warm, kind and loving towards him from the first day they met.

In a way, his relationship with his wife and daughter was bringing some light back to his heart and soul. A resistance against the darkness of the Jinn, that infected his spirit with corruption. Plagued his mind with the onset of paranoia, bordering on insanity.

The fact that it was so difficult to move Hayley's Martyr Coven, except under cover of darkness, was another reason he had remained here for so long. He did not wish to leave his wife. Hayley was also quite reluctant to leave the Hive without bringing her army with her. She had become accustomed to being guarded by thousands of vampires and werewolves. It seemed there was a deep fear in her about being without that protection. Wil assumed the rise of Christians across the Free Lands had a lot to do with such fears. Most followers of Christ were utterly opposed to the very existence of Nightwalkers.

It was nightfall now, and the Hive was abuzz with vampires on patrol throughout the hallways and city streets. Things were in order in regard to Hayley's control over her people, yet Wil was caught off guard when General Larg entered the chamber to make his report. 'A large demon horde is approaching the West Gate, Lady Hayley; Lord Wil.' The vampire addressed them while saluting with fist to breastplate. 'Smaller demon forces have already blocked off any hope of escape through other gates.' He stood waiting on Hayley's commands.

'Assemble forces at the West Gate,' Hayley said in a considering tone, though Wil noted no alarm in her voice, nor detected any fear in her heart via the _kigare_. When Larg left the chamber, Hayley whispered to Wil, as if she had doubts about trusting even this man who had led her forces for a thousand years. 'The demons will likely be just a distraction. The real attack will happen here, and soon. If the enemy can take out a Son of Odin, they will strike hard with everything at their disposal.' Wil seized the Jinn in response to those words. He sensed Hayley doing the same. Enserah's body rose off the ground and floated into the darkened corners of the ceiling, an ability that even Adem Highlander would have to appreciate in awe. It did not require any Angel-Magic, or the Jinn either. It was a part of her vampire blood. Enserah was also arming herself with torrents of the Jinn Arts. Ready to hurl it at the Hex-Warlords when they showed their faces.

***

Adem and his forces arrived at the ruins surrounding the entrance to Rolimbtorel, close to four weeks after their journey had begun. They were a large army, capable of dealing with these Witches and Warlocks. They were setting up tents and campfires when night fell over the landscape. Growls and savage barks of a large demon horde was heard to the northeast.

Adem hissed through his teeth. His connection to evil via his weak yet lingering sense of _teron,_ and the Jinn also, informed him of the scale of the demon army, and their approximate distance from his current location. They would be seen on the horizon in less than an hour at the pace they were moving. Tens of thousands of them, Boli-Kuldr, Souljhin, Nymloc and Jacoulra. He could sense the presence of each demon spawnbreed via unique flows of corruption through his mind and spirit.

They had been moved here through a Travelling Gate. He was certain of this, as there was no other way a demon horde that size could travel this far west without drawing every nation from here to the Green Border to oppose them. That meant the High-Servants were involved. Likely also using these Witches and Warlocks as puppets in their schemes. Adem was certain Pendral was also out there, somewhere, waiting for the ideal moment to punish Adem's forces with his terrifying strength. He would also attempt to outwit his father with that fox-like cunning.

Adem's strength had recovered to a degree during the journey, and right now he was not tired despite a long week of riding hard and fast. Adem's fear was a theory that Pendral may be able to wield his magic within Adem's scar to quickly deplete his strength. If that were true, he would require strength and cunning from his own protectors, to ensure this did not turn into a swift defeat.

***

Highlander gave the signal. Handing command over to Orion and Tobin, with Fien Marghotha and his Lady wife, Jeimella, as their second in command, and First Advisors for the approaching battle. Orion began to bark orders to his captains, who sent out their own commands in response. He watched as thousands of Archers, Aldebrands, Wood Kin and Dark Elves moved forward on foot, the Eva'Hahlen having run the entire journey. The rest dismounted before forming ranks ten deep: Eva'Hahlen in the front and rear ranks, for blasting the enemy head on. As well as showering the demons with volleys of Acid-Arrows.

The rest would use their arrows of wood and steel for as long as their supplies lasted, then it would be up to their abilities with the Jinn Arts to ensure the enemy lines were held back. Forsaken were positioned behind the Archers to create shields, but also to pummel the enemy ranks when the order was given.

Tobin's orders were for the cavalry. Torvellen Agnars fanned out on both flanks. Heavily armoured horses and riders, including mortal warriors led by their lords and ladies. Armed with an assortment of weaponry: most holding a javelin, spear or lance, gripped in a gauntlet of leather or steel.

Orion knew the time would come when the battle would need to be left in command of Fien and Jeimella. Orion and Tobin, and their wives, would be needed to join Highlander, Fairsythe and Wilder, as they tried to infiltrate the underground ruins of Rolimbtorel. To strike down these Witch and Warlock traitors, and to attempt to restore _teron_ and _terael_. At which point the scales would most certainly tip in their favour!

***

Rayne, Elarja, and their company of Children of Odin and ancient immortal warriors, made their way through the dense forest over days that seemed to stretch on like months ... In the forest, time was slower ... An hour felt like three days ... Nights and days lasted while they journeyed, made camp, slept, and moved on again ... The forest seemingly never ending, or else they were going around in circles!

All the while, the demon army roared with bloodlust at the forest entrance. Savage rumbling roars echoing through the forest canopies. Ancient demons of every spawning imaginable. Jinn-Fendinn was raising his fist to crush them with one swift stroke. Wards of Elemental Magic kept the demon army at bay, as the Dragon Riders were harried from the skies by Krunloc and Shadow Dragons, until the dragon riders were seen no more ... Rayne hoped they had fled rather than remained to fight to the death. Either way, they had no knowledge of their fate. Here, in the endless forest ... they moved as if in a dreamlike state. Never reaching the end ... Days stretching into forever ... Nights of eternal darkness.

One night, when they were camped around a large fire made from dead wood gathered by the Giants, the little Leaf Aldebrand, Grom, began to harness energy from the flames, making the golden flames burn bright blue. Fire surged high into the dark canopies. A blazing brilliance. Rayne realized it was an attempt to summon Druantia's Children, who up until now had watched them from the shadows, along with their Dremelden disciples. So far none had interacted with Rayne's company, and so they waited. On a night that seemed to last a year ... The demon army roared, fighting to break down the forest's magical wards. They would break through soon. All hope was placed in the hands of the little blue furred creature. Grom would be their saviour if his plan worked!

Suddenly a tiny blue flame entered the clearing. A single figure the size of a human palm. Human in shape, a winged fairy spirit danced towards the burning blue pillar! Moments later dozens more appeared, some smaller, some larger. Many formed of odd shapes: Winged horses, bears and boars with human torsos. Wings burning bright. Lions, wolves and cougars, brilliant blazing apparitions. Their light filled Rayne with warmth, peace and a longing to learn the nature of their ancient Lore.

A figure the height of a Giant with the girth of a bear stepped into the light. Formed of burning blue leaves from head to foot: Large oval eyes of golden embers in its skull. Blue leaves fluffy like feathers, with a large orange beak shaped like an owl. This, Rayne realised, was the first of Druantia's Children to reveal itself to them! Its hands and feet were claws of hard dark brown wood. Wielding a heavy twisted wooden staff: bright golden at the tip.

With a sweeping gesture: great light flickered and flared all around them! Rayne and his companions looked about in awe, to discover that the heart of the forest was here. Sacred trees of Elemental Lore had been here also, though they would not permit their light until it was revealed by Druantia's Child. The trees bathed them in a warm pleasant glow. Rayne felt immense flows of Angel-Magic emanating from the Great Trees. Golden, emerald, aqua and crimson, silver or violet leaves, or golden leaves on emerald branches, the warmth of the glow was intoxicating.

More of Druantia's Children stepped forth to enter the light. Creatures of many shapes and sizes, each one unique to the one next to them. Human figures formed of purely wooden bone and flesh. Glowing emerald or blue leaves for hair, clothing and armour. Large dark seeds for eyes. These were the most common, some on foot while others stared down from the branches. Most thin in form as if made of branches, others stout and covered in moss like a coat of fur. Most the size of mortals, though others were as large as the blue feather creature with the golden staff.

Some were similar looking to Grom and his kin. A variety of shapes and sizes of furry monster looking creatures. Their eyes were pale lanterns: strange fires sparked in their open palms. There were those that looked human: flesh and bone. Tall immortal men and women; garbed in leaves: covering their forms as robes and armour of pale jade light. Hair silken black or pure silver. Eyes burning bright emerald, burning gold, silver fire or glistening jet black. They appeared in a flicker of motion. Morphing from the shadows, into the light, to reveal themselves as if frozen in time. Rayne realised then that these were the Dremelden Wood Kin: Changed by their time spent with Druantia's Children. Wreathed in shimmering power: they revealed to Rayne glory and majesty of ancient magic.

The Dremelden wielded Lukrorian Bows or swords of intense light. Dremelden amongst Rayne's company bowed or got down on one knee to pay homage to their ancient brethren. Already the passage of time had forged great defining differences between the First Dremelden; and their newer born cousins that had journeyed here with Rayne and Elarja, but there were still clear similarities between them also. Not yet so far apart in strength and Lore.

Finally, the large blue leaf figure began to speak; voice booming as if his lungs were a Battle Horn. 'Here stand the Children, to bear witness to the arrival of the one who bears the Sword of Valour! Reveal to us its might, so that we may judge your right to pass on to the Mountain of Gods!'

Rayne drew the sword. Burning blue emanated from the weapon that dulled the light of the Great Trees and Grom's fire. Light overpowered everything! Druantia's Children and the First Dremelden stared in wonder and awe, some getting down to one knee in respect of the miracle.

The leaf figure chuckled in a bear-like tone; Light of his staff joined the emanations of the sword. Bolts of blue launched from Rayne's blade: touching the weapons of the Children of Odin. The light did not touch weapons owned by any others. Not even Elarja's swords or the Time Stones. Children of Odin drew forth their weapons. Druantia's Children began to chant in a powerful hypnotic rhythm—a grumble, rumble hum and buzz—and the bolts of light began to fuse with the other weapons. The Children of Odin joined in the chant, seemingly entranced by the magic that was suddenly alive in their blood and breath.

Rayne also felt the intensity of that link shared by all within the forest. Flesh aflame; a flowing river of lightning and ice. Rushing lava and storming snow! It was like the night he had first increased the strength of his grandfather's sword. This was now happening again, to the weapons of his companions! Druantia's Children were helping them to reforge their weapons with _teron_ and _terael_. Creating multiple Resting Points for the Battle Angels of this ancient Age.

On a night that seemed to last a lifetime, Rayne and the Children worked miracles of Magic and Elemental Lore ... Demons howled in outrage: fighting with all their strength to tear down the wards that forbid them from entering Mikihara Forest. Rayne knew the wards would not last the night ... Yet this night ... It seemed to have stretched much, much longer than the laws of nature should allow. It was the work of Jinn-Fendinn at least; his theory included Elarja's Time Stones, and the Rift. Corruption on both halves of Angel-Magic, as well as Elarja's theory about Komputah!

Jinn-Fendinn was trying to delay them. Influencing those multiple elements that would be resulting in a newly gained ability to manipulate time. Slowing their journey while his demon army advanced: to stop them from reaching Odin's Seat. Rayne began to fear just how far reaching this new capacity of Jinn-Fendinn might be growing throughout time!

Still Angel-Magic surged. Elation! Exquisite harmony and bliss. Exhilaration flowing through his senses in waves: _Teron_ crashing through his psyche as serene sensations. Magic coursed in time with his beating chest. His pulse. Breath. Raw, seductive, forbidden forces. Captivating. Terrifying. Torture. Intensity. Ecstasy. He laughed; screamed, danced. He fell, soft, heavy and warm. The stars burned in the blackened skies as if a thousand Angels were holding moons of silver. Moons blazing with the light of the sun. Nowhere to run. He cried. Wept for it to end. Blessings no mortal soul should ever know. He smiled: Cradled in its soft, warm aching, never ending glow.

***

Wil waited anxiously for the attack to arrive. Already the demon army had thrown their forces against the West Gate for over seven hours. Finally, the enemy became desperate. High-Servants and Hex-Keepers morphed into being within Hayley's bedchamber. Wil found his thoughts blocked from something. It was something that would have otherwise saved him from the deadly trap that was thrown against his form. A tangled web of Jinn-Magic—glowing beams of blood-red shadows—wrapped about his arms and legs. A kind of Shield-Spell that also quickly reduced his own ability in the Jinn.

Enserah and Hayley were not so slow to react, yet Hayley also appeared lost in her thoughts. They both lashed out with torrents of the Jinn in an attempt to slaughter their enemies. Wil could see the confusion in his wife's eyes. What was it they were forgetting? It had to do with some ability the High-Servants had over them. Wil could not remember—

Four High-Servants and two Hex-Keepers were in the chamber. The Generals were both female, one dark haired—Calliestra—the other with long golden hair would make her Nodomi. Wil could see Pendral was present; his dark eyes appeared crazed beneath the cowl whenever the Jinn lit up his bearded face. They were trying to take down any threat to their plans. Wil could understand that much in his confused state. He was almost helpless to defend himself! He pushed back against the Shield-Trap with every drop of strength that remained, forcing his own flows of the Jinn Arts against their glowing web, but he could not cast attacks beyond his own trapped position.

Hayley and Enserah's attacks were tearing holes through walls, bricks crumbling in loud crackling and crashing sounds. Vampires and werewolves rushed in to defend their Queen and Princess. High-Servants and Hex-Keepers unleashed dark energies that vaporized flesh and bone in searing screams of agony! Hayley and Enserah fought on, until both women were struck by a combination of attacks. Sending them flying across the room, both landing with serious wounds to their lower abdomens. Both of them twitching in spasms of half consciousness! Wil roared in outrage, but the web held him tightly! His rage gave him new strength. He heaved against Angel-Magics that held him. All four High-Servants and the two Generals all turned their attention to him, focusing their strength to ensure he did not escape.

He screamed as tears began to fall, but he would not give up. Not when there was still a hope of saving his wife and daughter!

***

Hayley was nearly blacking out from the force of impact with which she had landed against the marble column and floor. Her daughter next to her with a large wound seeping blood from her stomach. Hayley was also losing blood fast from a similar wound.

The High-Servants and Hex-Keepers were distracted by Wil's attempts to overpower them via the Jinn. So, for now, Hayley and Enserah were not Shield-Trapped, though Hayley had no strength to lash out with the Jinn Arts while the enemy had their backs turned.

Still her mind was blocked from some vital factor, that she knew would have a great impact on saving their lives. The answer remained hidden by some power of the High-Servants. It reminded her of a similar struggle, long ago, but she could not draw up the memory into a clear thought or vision.

Her daughter would soon be dead from loss of blood. Hayley was not sure if she could last much longer either. She felt Wil's torment and rage building via the _kigare_. He did all he could to try to save them. Vampires and werewolves charged into the room at intervals in a rescue attempt. High-Servants and Generals cast the attackers aside with spells of Air-Magic and Fire-Magic. Barely flinching from their concentration on Wil as they threw backhanded gestures to turn her faithful warriors into smouldering piles of ash!

She had placed a heavy guard outside her chamber, thinking it would be wiser to allow the enemy to attack while they appeared unprepared. She had planned on being able to utilise the one force that still eluded her via that horrid mind block, leaving them helpless against so many powerful wielders.

Enserah was crawling closer to Hayley, as her daughter held her wrist up to Hayley's lips. Enserah's lips mouthing the words, 'Drink, Mother!'

Hayley slapped the wrist aside, glaring at her daughter with outrage that she would suggest sacrificing her own life to save her mother and father. But Enserah would not relent, holding up both wrists as her head fell in Hayley's lap. Hayley had somehow found the strength to sit upright and cross legged. Her back leaning against the pillar that was slightly damaged from impact, leaving Hayley with a terrible headache.

Then suddenly the roof above fell in large chunks of stone to trap the lower half of Enserah's form! Hayley knew her daughter would soon be dead. She did not have the strength to lift those heavy stones after so much blood loss! She realised then that she would have to at least taste some of her daughter's blood! The thought terrified her completely, but her need to save Wil forced her decision. She leant over her daughter's neck and sunk her fangs into her soft pale flesh. Blood filled her mouth in a gushing fountain. Drinking with great thirst from the first taste, she had never tasted blood so rich and empowering. It filled her with torrents of energy as her own wounds immediately began to heal.

The blood was so enticing she had trouble removing her fangs, but when she did, sparing her daughter enough blood to hopefully survive by some miracle, Enserah reached for Hayley's head once more, drawing her back towards the bite marks in her neck! Enserah wanted Hayley to drain her of every last drop! 'It is the only way you can save Father,' Enserah breathed in her weakened state. She smiled then, so beautiful and peaceful it made Hayley want to scream in horror! But the mind block was still there, the blood had made her much, much stronger, but she could not overpower that control on her mind. Instead she heaved at the stone that held her daughter pinned to the floor. Casting the stones aside as if they were light as feathers. The last she hurled with all her might at the back of Pendral!

As the stone exploded in a flaring of Pendral's crimson Shield-Sphere, the mind block vanished! She shouted the name that had eluded her, the name of her Battle Angel; 'Druantia!'

***

Wil heard his wife shout the name of her Battle Angel. At that same moment, Wil also shouted the name; 'Eledisren!' Up until that moment he too had been unable to recall the vital key to winning this confrontation, the very existence of Dis Pater had been beyond his grasp of thought. It was a mind controlling magic enforced by the High-Servants. It disabled their memories at such vital moments, and because of it, his daughter was nearly dead!

Dis Pater's dark muscular form appeared before Wil's own, the Battle Angel appearing taller than before. His bulk as strong and powerful as an ox. Golden axe held before him with the double blades raised under his chin, sparks of Jinn-Magic impacted and flew off the weapon. Wil and Dis Pater fought back against the strength of the Shadow link.

Leaf covered vines, thick as fingers, reached out of the stone floor: coiling about the arms and legs of their attackers. Tripping and pulling them off balance. They fought back with beams of the Jinn, slicing through the vines like lasers. Wil grinned when he saw four Green Men rising from the stone floor. Sentinels formed of wood and vine, moss for hair and eyes like dark seeds. They stood over eight feet tall: wielding heavy wooden clubs they smashed at the Shield-Spheres of the High-Servants and Generals.

Druantia suddenly appeared. Hovering beside Hayley, wielding a bow of emerald light. Lightning-Arrows of burning jade punched through enemy Shield-Spells. Emerald eruptions engulfing the forms of the Generals. They screamed before vanishing in a warp of space. That gave Wil and Dis Pater the edge they needed. Golden sparks flew off his Battle Angel's axe. Spiralling outwards to spray around the forms of the High-Servants, falling like shards of burning gold.

Wil's rage suddenly filled him near to exploding. He hurled all his strength at Pendral, combined with Dis Pater in a link. Bolts of golden electric heat lanced like horizontal blazing blades! The bolts struck Pendral's Shield-Sphere in blasts of crimson and gold. The Old Dog gave in, vanishing in a warp of space, followed by his faithful hounds a moment later. Wil's Web-Trap vanishing as Dis Pater lunged forward to swing his axe only a second too late.

Wil rushed to his daughter, who was pale and weak. Hayley leant over her also, and Wil was almost stunned to notice real tears in his wife's eyes. Despite knowing how much Hayley loved her daughter; Wil had considered it unlikely his wife was even capable of such emotions any longer.

They appealed to their Battle Angels, asking; 'Help us!' and 'What can you do for her?' It was Druantia who replied, saying, 'We cannot save her life, but there is something we can do to ensure she remains close to both of you in spirit. If we do this, it must be done now before her last dregs of life are gone. The other option is you let her face the Lord's judgement with vampire blood in her veins.'

'Do it!' Hayley snapped in frustration. 'I will accept anything other than a fate of judgement.'

Wil did not argue, though his heart ached terribly over the understanding that he would never truly know his daughter. He knew Carl could help if he was here, but both Wil and Hayley knew of the battle Carl, Adem and Jean were about to face. His wife warned that Carl must protect the Blue Water Dragon and the White Snow Fox, for they were the real hope for Kismeria. From his frantic communications with Carl's Battle Angel, Wil was also uncertain that Carl would risk forming one of those Jinn-Magic portals to reach them even at such an hour of desperate need.

Dis Pater stood at Enserah's feet, axe haft planted on the stone floor as light began to pulse and flare around the massive weapon. Druantia stood at their daughter's head: both hands coming together. Enserah was suddenly wrapped up in thick leaves burning bright emerald, golden light of Dis Pater's axe blending with the leaf fires. Her cocoon began to float off the floor, the two Battle Angels fusing their strength into the apparent transformation. Music began to emanate from their forms. Wil and Hayley stared in troubled wonder.

'What will she be?' Hayley asked Druantia, to which her Battle Angel replied in a cool tone; 'Enserah will become one of us.'

It was at this moment that Wil remembered and could sense the presence of his second Battle Angel, Gwydion, as if that terrible mind control had still held a piece of his memory locked away until Dis Pater's and Druantia's energies emanated enough force to unlock the spell. Wil was filled with new hope that Gwydion, the Magician God, might be able to do more to try to save his daughter. He lost hope when the white bearded figure regarded him with eyes shining silver: pity evident in his sagging brows. 'This is the best chance you have of saving your daughter's soul, Wil Martyr. Have faith and know that such an honour could only be bestowed upon the daughter of a Son of Odin.'

A flash and fizzle of colour and energy appeared on the opposite side of Enserah's leaf wrapped body, across from where Gwydion joined his powers with those of his Brother and Sister. Light morphed into the image of a red goat-faced creature standing no taller than Gwydion's waist. Stout and muscular in form, not unlike a Nymloc, though clothed in golden armour and bright gems. Its hair was a shock of pale white flaring around dark ram horns. 'What dare you do here, Gwydion? Do you defy the will of Odin?'

'The girl was the daughter of Wil Martyr!' Gwydion roared in reply. 'Do not throw your threats about here, Cerrydwion. Join us and make this a song that will summon the Great Angels from high and low!'

The song, that Gwydion spoke of, was still emanating from both Druantia—cool, soft angelic female voices that soothed and calmed the spirit—and Dis Pater—strong, powerful masculine chants that brought feelings of courage and defiance of evil—and soon after a music could be heard from both Gwydion and this new creature named Cerrydwion. Four tunes harmonizing and colliding like a union, and a great struggle. Gwydion explained that Cerrydwion was another of their Brothers, an ancient Battle Angel of the Middle Realm. A God of Forests and Rivers; most closely tied to Fodla and Eriu, but also Druantia.

A host of vampire guards flooded the chamber earlier on, but Hayley had held up her hand and shouted; 'Leave us! Send more warriors to guard the West Gate and hit them with everything you've got!' The shocked vampires had hung their heads in shame as they saluted with fists to chests and made a swift exit. The stench of scorched vampire husks still filled the air within the chamber, reminding her of the sacrifice of her people, though they had failed her again, at a time that it seemed to matter more than anything else. Pain gripped her heart like a fist, crushing, cold: but the fury that was surging within her soul would soon burn white hot! Her vision became water: tears began to flow once again. All she could see was the light, but in her heart and soul she began to feel shadows closing in.

As the song continued, she wondered whether she was in her own mind, or now a part of her husband's? Their _kigare_ link had increased so much during this transformation ceremony, that their thoughts became shared, flowing from one mind to the other. Emotions heightened to extreme limits, she felt Wil's strength, determination and heart of flames burning away those shadows within her own inner being! He was so brave, so mighty, but also so kind, caring. He resisted the Jinn and its terrible effects upon his soul. Yet as more time passed, she felt the weight of his loss also. She began to wonder how much longer he could resist the darkness she had known in her own heart for what now seemed an eternity. Was Pendral attempting to force Wil into living that Dark Prophecy?

Oh, my darling, Enserah! How will I live on without your love and compassion, your humour and fierce courage? I can't bear to lose you!

In her mind Hayley screamed with heartbroken _rage!_

Wil was descending into darkness and flames. Outrage filled his mind. His soul burned with a need for _vengeance!_

As the ceremony continued, a vampire guard begged the right to enter and give his report. The tall Torvellen stammered, 'The demon army is unrelenting, my Queen! But there is more to it. You see, the sun, it refuses to rise! If Jinn-Fendinn has learnt to stop daylight from returning, He can bring an endless flow of demons through those Travelling Gates, until our forces are depleted of all strength to defend ourselves!'

Hayley and Wil's minds popped like corn at the realisation that sunrise was now long overdue! If Jinn-Fendinn had truly learnt how to hold back the sun's rising, how infinite had his Jinn-Magic now become?

***

Shaye hacked at the skull of a bull horned Nymloc, bringing the spear back round to punch through the creature's chest. Garnet fire burst from the crimson shaft! The creature howled: light erupted from its dark flesh; skull exploding in a shower of red sparks! He spun to drive the spear tip through the chest of a charging Boli-Kuldr. Halting the beast midstride with a Shield-Wall of Angel-Magic, unique to his own birthright as a Child of Odin. The Shield-Spell was as firm as a wall of stone, yet the spear slid through easily to set the demon ablaze.

The bandits had come first, thousands of mortal and immortal Shadowsouled in dark leather masks, wielding all manner of weaponry. Shaye, Ellagon and Ragan had spread their leadership throughout the village as they gave their commands to the Forsaken Wil Martyr left here to defend this region. Shaye did not mind being in command, yet he still hoped Wil would return soon. His Battle Angel communicated the sorrow Wil and Hayley Martyr felt this night, at the tragic loss of their daughter, Enserah!

He spun to unleash sheets of bright burning brilliance, slicing through armour and flesh of a dozen charging Boli-Kuldr; half as many Nymloc. Flames cut demons in half: heat and light incinerating dark skinned muscular forms. Forsaken warriors rallied around him, wielding the Jinn Arts with ferocity to defend their position and protect their leader. Other Forsaken guarded Ellagon and Ragan further out, around the large stables where most of the villagers were gathered. Women and children unable to join the fight, and mortal men too old and frail to wield a sword or spear. The rest joined the battle, as more and more of the immortal village men had done over the weeks Shaye had remained here to defend their people.

The real problem was that sense of a great evil approaching. Shaye was curious what manner of beast it might be. The answer came soon enough, after the ground began to shake with the approach of its massive hooves! He looked over distant dark treetops to see a gigantic shadow-skinned demonic form. Shaped like a man with a skull similar to a lizard. Dark bison horns cracked by flowing magma. Eyes great lumps of burning coal.

His first fear was that it might be a Shadow Dragon. His Battle Angel quickly informed him that his guess that the creature was similar to a lizard was quite accurate. The demon broke through a line of houses—smashing stone and tiles through the air in its wake—when he saw its huge serpentine tail. The Morthrogohr Kahlik reached down with sharp claws to clutch up Shadow Wolf Agnars, crushing them like squashed grapes. Its tail whipping through the village to send others flying through the air. It stooped down to snap ferociously with its jaws, biting through human flesh in horrible sprays of blood!

Shaye sounded a retreat throughout the village. Forsaken began to harry the demon with blasts of the Jinn—red flares striking against its scales without effect—with the aim of drawing it away from the villagers. He left a sizable force of warriors to defend the stables while they attempted to lure the demon away.

The plan worked! His warriors charged through the nearby forest, spreading out to circle back and attack with stealth. Demon following as it pushed ancient trees to the forest floor. Cracking sounds were like another beast entirely. Trunks six feet in diameter were ripped in half like shredding paper. Warriors ran in fear of being crushed.

There had to be a reason for sending a demon army to this village, after so many bandit raids that now appeared to be linked to one another. He could not find the answer. The other lingering concern was his sense of time. He was almost certain the sun should have risen over two hours ago! This puzzle worried him more than the first conundrum. It suggested some terrible control over time itself. Most likely the work of Jinn-Fendinn!

Blasts of Hellfire Acid flew up from the forest floor, striking the lizard demon to anger and confuse it. The attacks seemed to do little more. He had left Ragan to watch over the stable, yet he could sense as well as make out the silver lined form of Ellagon nearby. Golden axe of the Child of Odin a pale gleaming in the shadows. That would mean he was preparing to summon his Battle Angel. Shaye knew Angels were perhaps their only chance of causing any damage to this impossibly huge demon. Would it be better to utilise their Battle Angels here in the dense forest? _Or do we lure it further out to open fields?_

He sent this message to Ellagon via their Battle Angels, and soon heard the reply: _Would you prefer the graveyard?_

This was not an example of Ellagon's quick sense of humour. It was a genuine suggestion. Shaye considered the open area for launching their counterstrike: combined with cover of tombstones for the warriors to hide behind.

_Lead on Brother!_ Shaye sent in reply. Ellagon began to hurl torrents of blue lightning at the skull of the beast, disrupting its stability. Drawing it onwards towards the nearby cemetery. Shaye ran ahead of the demon with Forsaken warriors sprinting alongside or leaping through the tree branches above. Moving with the speed and agility of Dremelden Wood Kin. Many of those warriors were half-bloods, but the line of the Aelfin ran true in their flesh and bone.

Shaye was mortal however, and although he was a Child of Odin with many unique gifts, he did not have Ellagon's speed at running. Shaye was gifted with Portal-Spells, yet since Angel-Magic had been taken from the world—except by the remaining abilities of Children of Odin—Shaye had been less able to form Portal-Magic over any considerable distance. Despite this fact, he alerted his nearby warriors and formed a Portal-Spell large enough to leap through. Landing in the graveyard ahead of Ellagon; he sent word of his intended ambush via their Battle Angel telepathy.

Chapter 17

Eternal Darkness

Adem watched as Archers let fly with another wave of arrows formed of steel or Hellfire Acid. Dark Elves lending great support so far: demons pouring forth in vast hordes. Held back mostly by the various forms of Archer, pummelling the enemy with Lightning-Arrows and shafts of wood and steel. Jean and Carl had lent some help also. Tobin and Orion and their wives summoning vast torrents of Jinn-Magic: vaporizing demon flesh and bone.

The battle had lasted twelve hours so far! Long before Adem had realised the sun was not going to rise. That thought was lingering in his mind as he punished the demon forces with Hellfire Javelins or waves of scorching Acid Flame. Wiping out thousands of demons with each attack. Joined in a powerful link with his companions, each one targeting a separate position of the advancing wall of demons. Still they were unable to advance a step in the hopes of sealing off the distant Travelling Gate, through which the High-Servants were obviously bringing these demon hordes.

If the sun had arisen on schedule, the battle would be over by now! As the sunlight would burn Nymloc and Jacoulra flesh to cinders. Boli-Kuldr would find it difficult to fight with light in their eyes and would likely run to hide in nearby forests or mountain caves. At least giving his forces a chance to rest in the daylight hours. Souljhin would not attack without their armies, not likely anyway. Without the shadows of nightfall to allow their Portal-Tap technique through space, even those enemies would find it difficult to infiltrate the defences he'd set up here at their campsite, bordering Rolimbtorel. If they used flying demons to drop Portal-Taps throughout Adem's defences, things could turn nasty.

The camp had quickly become a battlefield. His armies were in danger of falling asleep on their feet before the demons hacked them down: gorging on human flesh. His scar was draining his physical strength. He was forced to wield Jinn-Magic, and the impact on his mental health was also taking its toll. He was becoming agitated, questioning his closest advisors on attack and defence techniques. A headache was coming on. He knew that if he did not sleep soon, the madness might overpower him completely.

The outer wall of defenders was also harnessing the Jinn to form Shield-Walls while Agnars, Aldebrands and Forsaken also hacked and slashed with immortal speed and strength. Holding back the rush of Boli-Kuldr and other charging demons that made it past the attack lines. Tarz sat his horse close to Adem's side the entire time: Jean to Adem's left and Carl alongside Tarz. So far, Adem had not allowed Tarz to join their link, and he considered it interesting that the immortal leader had not yet asked to, either. Despite this, the wounded faced General unleashed waves of the Jinn against the demon forces. His strength in the Jinn Arts easily equal to Adem's individual capacity. Tarz had soon joined in a link with seven of his most trusted Alit'aren Captains, including the jade eyed immortal Jen Terendel.

Jen was also considerable in strength, and the combined powers of these warriors resulted in a fierce assault upon the enemy forces. Demons still managed to break through their lines of magic attacks at certain intervals, and Adem was certain those warriors on the outer defence would be tiring.

But who could bring back the rising of the sun? The amount of strength required to hold back such elemental nature was a puzzle that filled his mind with dread. The answer must have something to do with Komputah. Jinn-Fendinn must be using this vast power here and now to delay their quest. He was almost certain of this theory, but before he led a host of warriors to face Witches and Warlocks in Rolimbtorel's vast underground city, he knew he must first sleep. At a time when his army needed his skills the most. Yet still he knew sufficient rest was vital, or he may fail in this quest completely. Simply collapsing from exhaustion at a potentially more vital moment of conflict.

He gave this news to Carl and Jean, urging them to do the same, but Jean replied: 'I will not rest yet, husband. I see the strain and lethargy that overwhelms you. You must get some rest. We will hold back this demon army while you regain your strength to fight. Yet if you can do some good while walking in your sleep, try to find some answer to this puzzle of a sun that will not rise!' Her words were brave and fierce. Carl simply nodded to give his approval and agreement.

Moments later Adem climbed from the saddle and moved to a ring of defence. A blanket was laid close to a smouldering fire. The night was still warm, yet the glow of the hot coals gave him some peace as he settled back and closed his eyes. Before sleep took him, his mind reeled at the sound of demonic roars and the clashing of steel. Torrents of Hellfire Acid scorched the earth and sky, rendering demon flesh to piles of smoking ash—

Adem crouched on a rooftop ... Dark blue tiles slippery under his boot heels. He quickly changed his footwear to soft soles stitched to dark tightly wrapped stockings, his clothing and armour morphing to the style of Forsaken in the _ghoda'sidhe_. Gauntlets black steel, grey metallic greaves and a dark grey mask covering the lower half of his face up to below the eye line. Emerald blade sheathed to hide its light.

He knew this was the Dream Realm. He had come here deliberately, but he had not chosen the location. He could still recall his meeting with his grandson in this realm vividly; and the little Nymloc, Halgahir, that had summoned him from his sleep of regular dreams. He had seen a vision of Halgahir through a fog of burning grey skeletons before he reached this place. The demon had spoken no words this time, though Adem was certain the creature had played some part in bringing him to this location.

_Could it be a trap?_ He wondered. _Or is there good in Halgahir?_

He gazed at the stone ceiling high above the rooftops: considering his own question. This was a vast underground cave. Hundreds of squat stone houses with tiled roofs spread across miles of shadows. A pale light like tiny stars suspended in the air in some places, illuminating the rooftops or the stone floor below. Adem heard grunted voices. He crept towards the lip of the rooftop to peer over at the source of the guttural demon tongue. Two Boli-Kuldr demons—wearing armour that glowed like wet shadows—stood facing one another beside the house. Adem crept back and waited until they finished their talk and returned to their patrol.

Arawn interpreted that much from their demon language. When the taller of the two Boli-Kuldr was walking alone in a clearing between two houses, Adem leapt like a giant grasshopper: flying across the air as Hellfire Wings of Odin flared from his shoulders. Light from his Wings made the demon look up in confusion as Adem dived like a striking viper. Emerald blade planting through the dark eye socket of the Boli-Kuldr. It collapsed below him, Adem's feet planted upon its massive shoulders as the body fell with a hollow _thud._ The sound brought a grunt, from the other Boli-Kuldr nearby. Adem leapt like a fleeting shadow, high into the air. Wings of Odin carried him back to land safely on the rooftop.

He rolled backwards to cover his form behind the tip of the rooftop. Crawling back up to peer over as he spied on the other Boli-Kuldr; giving another stunned grunt as it spotted and ran to his fallen comrade. Adem grinned as he began to enjoy this game that been set up for him. Yet the lurking fear was that a more dangerous adversary was also spying on him from the shadows. These Boli-Kuldr were simply bait designed to lure Adem out of hiding.

You will die all the same demon.

***

Rayne and the Children of Odin worked with Druantia's Children to reforge their weapons into many Swords of Valour, Spears of Might, Bows of the Light. Energies entwining and fusing with the skill of their wielders and the enchanted Forest Wardens, as powerful songs continued from all the onlookers, on a night that seemed to never end!

When they were thirsty, they drank fresh crystal-clear water from a nearby stream. When they were hungry, they ate berries and other fruits that were bursting with succulent flavours. Their bellies were always full and appeased with just a few bites. It was another part of the magic of this ancient world and the Mikihara Forest's enchantments. Mostly they worked Angel-Magic into the weapons that glowed with burning colours. Bolt-Lightning and Elemental-Fire flowed from Druantia's Children and the surrounding Sacred Trees.

As time passed the Children of Odin also learnt the words of the song. Although they did not have Battle Angels to interpret the language, Rayne began to suspect that they too could eventually understand their meaning. It was a long-lasting ode of Angel Power; the blood of the Aelfin and the Elemental Magic that flowed through them and their godlike creators. In hearing the song and knowing the interpretation of those words, Rayne learnt more of the histories of the world's foundations. Crafting of Kismeria by the work of the Great Angels.

His heart ached with the glow of _teron_ that flowed through his every fibre. Light was a burning brilliance in his soul. His mind scorching with the heat of Angel-Magic in its purest form. It was intense, it was beautiful, he felt overwhelmingly ill and infinitely well at the same time—heavy but also light—the song carrying him in and out of a grandiose and magnificent trancelike state of consciousness. He was mesmerized. Electrified. Elated and ecstatic. He felt that he was harnessing enough raw energy to pull down the moon and the stars. Power to light up the universe with his own song of triumph!

The music and the songs were everywhere. Radiating. Deep in the earth where the Great Tree roots twined and tangled like tooting trumpets, feasting on magical nutrients in the soil. The flowing waters produced a sweet melody. Chiming. Entrancing. The moss-covered stones, grasses and mushrooms produced a beat. Thumping. Humming. He listened. Mystified. Drums. The Great Trees illuminating the forest joined the music and singers in a beautiful blissful symphony. Harmony.

They did not sleep, for there was no need in this forest of wonders, though they worked for what seemed months, or years, or a thousand years or more, the work was never ending, yet he felt that the work was almost done!

Finally, the blue leafed figure with the blazing staff—known only as Wargarhyde—let out one last great exertion of brilliant white-hot energy. Rayne and the Children of Odin gasped and gazed at the light that flickered and flared around their heads in brilliant bright blazing colours, finally being absorbed by the enchanted weapons! Every figure in the Mikihara Forest suddenly fell down with extreme exhaustion, though that final bolt of energy had given them overwhelming stores of resilience to a need for sleep that had waged war with their consciousnesses for however long it had been!

Despite this Rayne felt sleep take over, and he gazed about to see that his companions were also giving in to the bliss of finally being allowed to rest. Eyelids heavy, their forms relaxed as if a sleeping tonic had been released by the forest flowers. Rayne closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh of relief. Knowing their quest was nearing its end, and that they had just achieved the vital key to obtaining the source of their need.

As he began to enter a state of dreaming, he heard Wargarhyde's booming tones exclaim; 'The ceremony is now complete. The Sword of Valour has achieved the ultimate of tasks! Sleep now, little Odin Children, and prepare to scale the Mountain of the Gods. To summon them at Odin's Throne, and lead them on your quest to save all space and time! For Jinn-Fendinn grows in strength to exert extreme influence over the elements. With faith and courage and sweat and tears, we may yet bring back balance with the aid of Odin Lightning-Lord!'

On the outskirts of the forest, the demon army roared! They still had not broken through, but this eternal night still was not at an end. Rayne knew the dangers that threatened his quest, as visions of Halgahir, the little Dream Nymloc, welcomed him to enter the Dream Realm.

***

Orion was vigilant; commanding his forces as they struggled to hold back the advancing demon hordes. This night had already lasted hours longer than was natural. Every minute longer gave the High-Servants the opportunity of bringing another demon force through other nearby Travelling Gates. Effectively forming a pincer movement against Adem Highlander's considerably small and vulnerable army. That thought irked Orion to extremes as he pummelled the enemy with blasts of Hellfire and bolts of Acid Lightning, still linked with Elmira, Tobin and Lydia: wielding the Jinn Arts with devastating effect.

The former Kings and Queens of Tarvel and Nordhel had very rarely practiced the Jinn Arts these past thousand years, but all four of them had studied the potential of the outlawed form of Shadow Magic. These studies made each of them significantly adept at exploiting that remarkable yet unarguably evil method of destruction.

Adem Highlander's Golden Soldiers would be of use right now, unleashing those powerful beams of energy to slice through demon flesh. Fired from behind enemy lines and striking against Alit'aren Shield-Walls, a method that had worked for them in the old days. Janeanne's version of matter manipulation was not yet capable of creating such sentinels. She was currently utilizing similar Golden Samurai on the battlefield. Wielding blades of burning light in crimson, emerald and gold they hacked down Boli-Kuldr and Jacoulra with speed and precision. A bloodbath of unyielding menace created by a young woman so innocent and pure.

Adem Highlander was still resting however and had done for a number of hours now. Jean had not yet tried to wake him. Orion and Tobin did their best to maintain adequate defences during the time Highlander tried to regain his strength. Sleeping while surrounded by a massive guard of warriors within the heart of their camp. Close to the Generals and Captains that commanded these forces to hold back the demon advance.

They had ordered a number of cavalry charges during these hours of battle. Thousands of mounted warriors attacking the flanks of the demon horde from both sides. Sweeping back down through the column of demon flesh to hack and slash with spears and swords. Trampling the enemy under the thunderous hooves of powerful steeds. Casualties within the mounted cavalry had been few so far. Orion was glad to realise he still had the right to command, and that his wits were not yet stale from lack of use in such a fitting purpose.

He kept his riders on the flanks of his army for the time being. Holding the demons back with Archers, Shield-Magic and Magic-Blades. Relying on the predictable attack formation of their enemy. Demons driven forwards in a vast column by their Souljhin commanders. A massive meat grinder that was never ending. When the front enemy lines fell under blade or magic, the rear ranks advanced, trampling their spawnbrothers under hooves. Minions of evil incarnate with an insatiable bloodlust and hunger for human flesh. Such was the plight of Kismeria since the Dawn of Ages.

The Forsaken were their best hope of surviving this battle. Orion and Tobin had not yet given Tarz the order to begin mind control over the enemy front lines. This command was being saved for the necessary moment. Orion understood their rules of honour better than the Sons of Odin ever could. It was also a tactical decision to conserve their strength until Orion and Tobin saw the opportunity to use those skills to the optimum effect. Turning the tide or at least keeping people alive.

As it was, the battlefield was a slaughterhouse of Acid Serpents falling from the skies like lightning bolts. Gorging on demon flesh: snake jaws chewed through chests or gulped down skulls in savage bites. Remaining demon flesh melted into congealed piles! It was an awesome thing to witness! Tobin and Orion unleashed legions of Hellfire Lions and Shadow Tigers. Giant predators charging through enemy lines to shred with claws like burning steel. Ripping off limbs with razor-sharp jaws in sprays of dark blood!

Lydia and Elmira added to the force and intensity of the Acid Serpents, while the two Ael Tarael unleashed thousands of Pixie Wardens formed of the glowing crimson shadows of Jinn-Magic. Sprites of dark energy flying with lightning speed to punch through demon skulls and torsos. Ripping flesh apart in bursts of blood and flames! Yet their combined work was but a fragment of the attack formation that was under their command, unleashed by Tarz in his powerful link, but also by the hundreds of other Forsaken warriors that fought the demon hordes. Waves of Hellfire and Shadow Acid in multiple forms of weaponry. Javelins, Spirit Wardens or simply blades of lightning and bars of fire. The result was a killing field on a grand scale. Forsaken and other immortal warriors on the front lines were under extreme strain to hold back the enemy. They also fought a desperate battle to attempt to cut down the demon horde before their ranks spread beyond containment.

Demon mind control would not be of great use other than to delay the demon advance. Creating walls of Boli-Kuldr and other larger demons to hold back the ranks with blades, teeth and claws. Even so many Forsaken could not take command of more than a fraction of the entire demon legion, temporarily causing chaos within their ranks. The other reason Orion delayed using this ability, was that he feared it was a skill in the Jinn that would more likely push his Forsaken warriors beyond the brink of sanity. Forsaken dealt with the effects of the Jinn Arts better than most, but it was mainly due to their _elykrario_ crystals attached to their body armour. Otherwise they were as susceptible as any other immortal, and the half-bloods amongst them perhaps even more so.

Orion had to be wise in such decisions, using the strength of the Jinn Arts like a crushing vice where possible, while restricting its use as much as possible to keep these men and women sane! He knew how important that kind of decision making was, here and now, on a night of eternal darkness. Jinn-Fendinn could keep pushing them, until Forsaken began exploding in fits of madness.

He spotted two Souljhin mounted and charging the front lines; attempting to break through. Acid Javelins split through both riders' skulls. Brains bursting like ripe fruit as corrosion ate through flesh with fervour. He took out the horses too. Jaws of giant Acid Serpents launched from the clouds to devour the Demonsouled in ravenous chomping gulps.

***

As the endless night continued, Wil and Hayley stood watching the enchanted ceremony. It was supposed to transform their daughter into some sort of Battle Angel spirit. As the music and magic began to build, other Battle Angels began to appear. Maeve, Epona, Llew Llaw Gyffes, Mac Manannan Lir and many more he had never seen before morphed into view in flashes of light and colour throughout the chamber. Blending their Power with those of their Brother's and Sister's, but also adding to the hypnotic, powerful and mind-altering sense of music that seemed to also fill the room. Wil began to believe such miracles were possible on this night.

The leaf cocoon that enshrouded their daughter's form was suspended in mid-air amongst the Battle Angel gathering. Flows of _teron_ and _terael_ moving like lightning bolts, burning stars or sheets of incandescence to perhaps purify the flesh within those leaf wrappings. Turning Enserah's mortal shell into a being of light and energy. A spirit of Elemental Magic that would guard and also fight for both Wil and Hayley in their future confrontations.

_Ki'mera_ was also involved, the tiny orbs of coloured fire floating up out of the many Battle Angels that appeared. Swirling like leaves on the wind to be absorbed by the leaf cocoon. At other times _ki'mera_ would rise out of the cocoon, to float higher in the air as a loud humming sound filled the air. Raw energy being contained at the cost of a great struggle, and finally Wil and Hayley were forced to give up some of their own _ki'mera_ stores. Demon orbs were drawn out of their own physical flesh to rise up into the storm of energy, as the music, and the hum, and the surge of Angel-Magic rose to a crescendo!

The next moment everything changed in a blast of colour and light. A small explosion of energy from the leaf cocoon as the _ki'mera_ flowed back into Enserah's form! Their daughter broke free of her leaf wrappings to reveal a spirit of pure fire and light, though she was the very image of their daughter in living flesh. Hair dark as shadows tied in a thick braid. Black eyes that burned like seeds with a flare of light and colour reflected within. Her pale skin glowed blue white. Her dress was a simple pale blue silk; roses shining red upon the hem, breasts and arms. A very modest dress for what their daughter had become.

A moment later Enserah was absorbed into Wil's obsidian axe and Hayley's crimson blade, along with their individual Battle Angels. No further explanation was given as to the rules of this transformation and bond. Wil was suddenly aware of his daughter's raw emotions on a level equal to his _kigare_ connection to his wife. She felt sad, lost, and full of regret, but also saved. Given a second chance by escaping death and judgement. He could sense and interpret all of this through their spiritual bond. The music had subsided, and the other Battle Angels soon vanished in flashes of bright colours. Leaving Wil and Hayley alone to mourn the loss of their beloved child. Knowing they must do something before the demon army took down the Hive.

But Wil sensed a greater need, far off to the west. He urged Hayley to understand the importance of Adem Highlander's mission. To restore Angel-Magic to Kismeria. Hayley seemed to understand immediately it would mean abandoning a large part of her vampire army—if she hoped to leave enough warriors behind to defend her city—and Wil soon revealed the method he would use to bring a large force of warriors to Highlander's conflict while this long night never ended.

He summoned the forces that had joined him during his journey to the Hive, along with two thousand of Hayley's finest vampire warriors and three hundred werewolf guards. He began to march into the depths of Old Nordhel, leading his army towards the Travelling Gate that had stood there long before this city of stone was built up around it.

There was great risk in using the ancient Portals, yet he was driven by desperate need. He had faith that the Forsaken amongst him were experienced at using the Gates despite Jinn-Magic on _teron_ that interfered in their reliability. He would make one more stop before reaching Adem, however. He needed to recruit Shaye and the army that had been left to guard Cromwed's village. Arawn, Math and Tanriel had informed his Battle Angels of the scale of the demon army at Rolimbtorel. Wil would need every warrior he could gather in the hope of victory. Hayley left her High General Larg Keledren in charge of holding the West Gate. Protecting her city and her Martyr Coven. Even though Wil did not entirely trust any of her vampire followers, he had respect for Larg's ability to hold back the demon horde.

Getting the horses to the lower levels was achieved by using ramps of stone to gently lead the animals by the reins as their riders walked ahead on foot. As they descended the hallways and tunnels got ever darker. When they reached the high-ceilinged chamber where the Travelling Gate stood, its grey stone was showered in light. Ancient bulbs of Angel-Magic still worked to this day despite _teron_ and _terael_ being out of reach for most wielders.

One of the Forsaken wielded a small amount of the Jinn Arts. It burned blood red before a similar hue lit up the stone doors of the Gate, opening with a loud creaking and sliding stone, to reveal Wil's reflection on the dark shiny surface within the Portal. He saw no others in the reflection even though the room was crowded with warriors. He could not even see the reflection of Hayley, who was standing close by his side. This did not irk him as much as the first time he had seen the phenomenon. He prepared his nerves to burst through to the other side. There could be swarms of demons that were about to start exiting the Gate on the other side. Boli-Kuldr, Nymloc and Jacoulra herded from a Gate far off in the East Lands.

He stepped through the shining doorway of darkness to slide through that gel like substance that served as a barrier between two places—at that moment perceiving the gel like many cold pale hands of dead bodies sliding over his flesh and armour, and a voice that was dark and ominous spoke the name 'Son of Odin' in his mind—and found himself standing in endless shadows. No moonlight or stars, the only light was from the palms of Forsaken wielders that stood on the dirt path ahead of him. They appeared stressed and confused, but there were no demons in sight. Wil had seized Jinn-Magic the moment before he stepped through. He released his grasp on that terrible power: fire and shadows leaking from his tainted soul.

Wil was one of the first to step through. Hayley soon followed—before two vampire guards led their horses through by the reins—but Wil already knew from communication with his Battle Angels that something was terribly wrong! It was as if the folding of two places joined together had split to reveal a secondary dimension joining the two. Like two cauldrons joined at the middle base. Where the surface of each was a doorway, and you had to pass down through the darkness of one cauldron, to slip through the join, then journey up through the second to reach the second surface. The two joined cauldrons could be hundreds or thousands of miles apart. This analogy was explained by Gwydion, and as Wil wrapped his head around it, he asked the Magician God: _Is there anything dangerous in here?_

_This is all new to me,_ Gwydion replied. _You will have to tread very carefully as we lead you to the second doorway._

Wil considered this before he sent: _Don't worry about getting us to Shaye's army then. I don't want to enter this place twice! Just get me to Rolimbtorel._

***

Rayne walked through a scene of bright colours and music. He was on a field of flowers and emerald grasslands, close to the walls of a great city of white stone, high towers and walkways, flags and banners of silk blowing in the cool breeze like flames. People were gathered all around him as he walked with his head high. They praised him as he went, applauding him, laughing and singing as musicians played a happy tune on various instruments. Sounds of joy and freedom filled the morning air.

He wore a red velvet robe with gold dragon sigils down the chest and along the hemline, a golden belt of dragon medallions at his waist. He was certain there was even a golden crown formed of dragon claws and fangs placed upon his head. He was beaming with pride. The people shouted his name. All of them dressed in fine silks of deep blues, bright crimson, dark velvety green, they had the look of lords and ladies, but even those he guessed to be common folk were wearing the finest clothes the world could ever make. It was a time of peace and prosperity for Kismeria. The world had been saved!

'You are the One!' a man in a pointed hat shouted to him, 'The One of Prophecy who will save us all!'

'You are Dragon-Sword!' a woman called in a high musical tone. A Nordic woman with sparkling golden locks and eyes of burning blue. A most beautiful woman with pale smooth skin that reminded him of his one true love. And at that thought, he began to gaze around in search of his beloved. He called her name above the noise of the crowd. 'Rievenna, my darling. Where are you hiding?'

'Rayne Dragon-Sword!' a stout Nordic man shouted in a deep tone. A dark bearded figure that reminded him of a bear. A wide deep chest in a red coat with golden lions embroidered on the sleeves. 'Praise your name, for you are the one true King of Kismeria! You are the grandson of the great Blue Water Dragon, and Son of Odin, Adem Highlander! Praise you and keep you well that you may be our Sword of Justice against the Great Enemy of the Free Lands!'

'He carries the Sword of Valour!' a young Torvellen boy shouted with glee. 'See how mighty and brave he is, our champion and saviour! Hold his name in the highest regard, for without Rayne Dragon-Sword, our world will surely fall into ruin!'

Rayne waved and smiled, bowing slightly in recognition of the words, yet he soon became anxious about Rievenna. He continued to search for her amongst the crowds. 'Rievenna, where are you, my love? Do not play this foolish game of hide and seek! I wish to gaze upon your immense beauty. To feel your touch against my skin, and to hold your hand as we walk together in the glory of this celebration!'

Suddenly all the people around him began to laugh, but that sweet sound soon became that of wicked intent and manipulation of his status. A dark haired Torvellen woman shouted, 'Rievenna is a traitor! She is cruel, and her thoughts are rife with designs of betrayal!'

'That is ridiculous!' Rayne shouted in outrage, yet his words brought more laughter from the crowds, the sound now ominous and cruel. He thought he began to notice sharp fangs in the mouths of some of those closest to him. For an instant he noticed a Dremelden woman with eyes like dark seeds, the tell-tale sign of a Nightwalker after a feed of human blood! 'Who are you people?' Rayne shouted. 'I see only enemies of the All-Father before me now! Tell me where my beloved is being held, or I will burn you all to cinders!'

Rayne looked down as a very small mortal boy was tugging on his sleeve. He gazed down to see that the boy had the same terrible eyes of vampire darkness, as the child asked solemnly, 'Would the great Rayne Dragon-Sword really murder women and children?' The child smiled to reveal fangs dripping with fresh blood!

'Away from me; you wicked little Hellspawn!' Rayne shouted in trepidation and loathing. He clutched his brow, an ache returning to his mind that was a sign of his illness setting in. The child's eyes returned to human form, and the boy appeared forlorn as he asked; 'Do you not love us, Lord Dragon-Sword? For we are your people! We are the people you fought to save, and the blood of the cattle is ours to procure. Such is the way of this world, ever since you defeated the Enemy of Peace!' The sound of great cheers filled the air from all those that stood surrounding him. It was the bloodthirsty wailing of vampires. Demonic souls possessing human flesh. Suddenly, the crowds parted to reveal a crucifix of wood, and Rayne looked there with horror to see that his darling Rievenna was nailed to that cross by her wrists and feet. Vampires stood below with open mouths raised to catch the blood that dripped from her hands!

'No!' Rayne shouted in grief and despair. 'Rievenna, my darling, do not fear! I will save you!' The Sword of Valour was unsheathed at the same moment that the sky went dark as night, the moon burning blood red. Vampires screamed and shied away from the brilliance of his sword blazing blue. Some Nightwalkers were burned to ash simply from the light of the sword, while others began to bark and roar. Hunching down like dogs in preparation to attack!

But the little boy was still unharmed, and he looked up with eyes of dark innocence as he cried pleadingly, 'But we simply followed your orders! You are the one who commanded us to punish the wicked ones. The accursed Children of Odin! You declared they were enemies of peace, and that they should all be crucified to face judgement at the hands of the High-Jinn!'

Rayne suddenly understood this alternate future Halgahir must be showing him via the Dream Realm. He realised now that his madness had become rife from long future battles wielding Jinn-Magic and the Schism within Angel-Magic. He had set himself up as the False Prophet of Christ, reversing the teachings of Jesus so that all Heroes of the All-Father would be crucified by this terrible vampire army he had raised! Their ability to walk in daylight was further evidence that he must have delivered Hayley Martyr up to the Southland Vampire Covens, to learn that secret ability that was engrained within her flesh and bones!

This is what the madness would make him become if he lived long enough to see that future come to fruition. His curse would destroy the world. Making vampires the rulers of Kismeria, feeding off the blood of the innocent that the young boy had described as being their 'cattle'.

A terrible rage overtook him. His madness swelled to monstrous proportions. He lashed out at his enemies with waves of Jinn-Magic. The sword unleashing Hellfire to burn vampires to dust and cinders, as he fought his way towards his one true love!

Rievenna, my love, how did I let this happen?

***

Shaye was crouched behind a large mausoleum of dark grey stone. He could hear the approach of the towering lizard demon. Earth trembling under the weight of its stomping hooves as its tall dark form appeared in the distance, beyond the forest's edge. Flames of Jinn-Magic were hurled at the demon by Forsaken running in front and alongside. Their forms appearing to blur like fleeting shadows in the moonlight.

The Forsaken were being guided by the plan worked out between Shaye and Ellagon. Warriors quick to adapt to any new plan of fight or flight, and so far, they had succeeded in luring the creature to their desired location for a second attempt at defeating it.

Shaye waited until the demon was marching through the cemetery, crushing tombstones under foot. Forsaken fled from nearby hiding places, hurling blasts of Hellfire at the creature during their desperate attempts at escape. Yet Shaye knew they were really playing a game with the demon. All a part of their strange code of honour in combat. The truth was they enjoyed being close to death, yet it was the thrill of the honour in escaping it, or otherwise the esteem of falling in battle to save those they were chosen to protect.

Once the demon was within range, and when he could also see Ellagon moving ahead through the cemetery—his axe a golden blur as the Child of Odin moved with Dremelden speed—Shaye shouted the name: 'Tamigol!'

His Battle Angel appeared before the demon. A small slender female figure: burning emerald energy around a gown of leaves like white frost. Tamigol stretched tan skinned arms out at her sides, as waves of emerald fire burst from her form to race across the graveyard. Tombstones blasting to rubble before the flames struck the demon's legs and torso. The magic evidently doing some damage as the demon roared in outrage, staggering backwards under the impact of the assault!

At the same time, Ellagon shouted the name: 'Kohbahl!' The ten feet tall figure of stone rune-marked flesh appeared and smashed his double-bladed axe into the earth. Massive chunks of stone began to surge up out of the ground, surrounded by a burning blue energy. Stones flew up off the earth to soar towards the demon. Each boulder sized stone smashing into the torso, chest and neck of the creature. Adding to its temporary loss of balance as Tamigol unleashed her secondary attack!

Thick green leaf covered vines began to surge up out of the ground, coiling around the legs of the demon; serpents strangling their prey! The vines appeared to be living creatures that grew and spread with startling speed: crushing power soon causing the demon to stumble as it struggled to break free of their grasp.

Kohbahl charged towards the demon. Burning emerald wings lifted his form rising into the air. The Stone Angel struck the demon four times as he climbed higher—knee, stomach, chest and neck as waves of energy blasted the demon on impact—to finally reach a position above and behind the demon's massive lizard skull. Kohbahl brought the axe down to plant in the top of its head! Emerald Bolt-Lightning charged down through the skull, neck and chest of the demon, as Tamigol's vines climbed higher and entangled the muscular dark-scaled arms of her captive.

Shaye felt the two Battle Angels form a link. His mind bonded with Ellagon's in the _kigare_ connection, their emotions shared almost as clearly as reading each other's thoughts. Magic in emerald and aqua bolts rained down from the sky to punch through the skull of the beast. Tendrils of wild conflagration rolling and burning through its dark scaled body as the demon shuddered from the impact of their combined forces.

At this moment the Forsaken leapt from their hiding places. They assaulted the demon with bolts of Acid Lightning. Others threw spheres of Shadow Flame to pummel the enemy with a combined link shared by Shaye and Ellagon. Shaye sensed the turmoil of Jinn-Magic upon the hearts and souls of those Forsaken, and he had to admit it made his stomach turn. Yet the increase in their combined attack strength finally started to bring the demon to its knees. Shaye and Ellagon threw Bolt-Lightning from their fists, thick blazing bars striking the creature as its huge form crashed upon the earth with a heavy _thud!_

Wings flared from Tamigol's form. The two Battle Angels soared above the fallen demon, as flickering magic energy coursed around their spirit flesh. Creating a gigantic burning spear that punched through the demon's plated spine. Raw incineration coursing through its body until the scaled hide began to lift off and float upwards. Cracks of light forming in its flesh as the body melted into a vast pool of dark congealed _mess!_

The Forsaken made no cheers of victory, yet Shaye felt their pride rising at the increased honour of their current status. Their faces seeming to sigh with a temporary relief from the conflict of Jinn-Magic flowing through their veins.

Shaye was about to head back towards the village when Tamigol sent him an urgent message. _There is something down below here!_ _You must find it and destroy it! I believe it has something to do with Komputah!_

Shaye waited until Ellagon and the Forsaken had made it to his location, when Tamigol and Kohbahl returned to their Resting Points. Yet the two Battle Angels also began to lead them towards a mausoleum doorway, where they entered to find a descending stone staircase. _It is somewhere below!_ Tamigol informed him. _A source of great power! If you can destroy it, you may be able to return some ability to wield Angel-Magic in this part of the world!_

As Shaye began to descend into darkness with a sphere of aqua flame to light the way, he realised this must be the reason for the demon attack. Jinn-Fendinn was throwing everything he had at them to try to stop Angel-Magic from returning to the Alit'aren and Ael Tarael.

His other concerns were the villagers still under attack, but also the communication with Wil Martyr's Battle Angels. The Son of Odin informed him of his current location—a mysterious void of darkness within the world of the Travelling Gates—and the man was also desperately urging Shaye to lead his army to Rolimbtorel. But with what Wil Martyr was telling him of this alternate dimension of shadows, Shaye was not certain he was willing to take the risk of entering the Travelling Gate that stood some hour's ride from here.

I will do what I can, Son of Odin! I hope you and your wife reach safety soon! Yet the path I take now may be even more beneficial than any strength we could lend in battle!

***

Adem crept with his back flat against a stone wall: sword sheathed again to hide its burning emerald light. He was using stealth in shadows to creep up on his prey. Boli-Kuldr and other demons were walking the same path as he descended stone walkways and staircases. There was still some light from those floating starlike objects that he guessed were some magic of the Dream Realm.

He knew this was a Dream version of the underground city of Rolimbtorel. Arawn had informed him of this. His Battle Angel was still able to communicate with him here—which was something Adem had not been able to achieve the first time he entered the Realm—and Adem was also glad to know that Arawn could be summoned into combat if the need was to arise.

Adem was using this time of rest to explore Rolimbtorel. Arawn led him deeper; the Battle Angel guided by the power source for Komputah. Some massive object contained far below that was a part of the ancient magic of this city. Formed by the Great Angels of Stone and Earth in Ages past. Adem still did not know what the power source looked like. He just hoped that if he could locate it, he might then be able to use some sort of Portal-Magic technique to reach it, when he awoke. He also felt the strain of knowing he was running out of time. Whenever he thought he might move at a swifter pace, there was always some demon blocking his path. So, he chose stealth and patience to wait out the right moment to strike.

A Boli-Kuldr morphed from shadows ahead of him. He waited until the beast had turned its bull faced snout in the opposite direction. Adem raced across the stone floor with the silent speed of a Dremelden; a new ability he had learnt to wield in this realm. Wings of Odin flared from his back as he flew horizontal the last ten feet. Sword slicing through the demon at half that distance!

He sheathed his blade with his back to the beast. He heard it wail and collapse to the floor; the sound of blood sprayed from the wound across its ribs. The cut had been so long and deep, he had no reason to fear it would have the strength to charge after him. He had adapted a part of that strange code of honour taught to him by the Forsaken, before darting off into the shadows.

***

Rayne was crossing a hallway of darkened stone. He noticed a fleeting shadow crossing under the light. Upon sight of the figure, Rayne was informed by his Battle Angel that this was his grandfather, Adem Highlander! He gave chase, and soon found that Adem had halted under another floating sphere of light that formed a pool around Highlander's form—clothed in the style of the _ghoda'sidhe_.

Adem turned back to face Rayne. He guessed that their Battle Angels were communicating when his grandfather shouted in surprise: 'Rayne! Is it really you?'

Rayne clutched the hilt of his blade—still sheathed—as he changed his clothing to a similar style to Adem's. 'Has the madness taken you, grandfather?' In his many viewings of alternate futures, Rayne had seen a world in which both Rayne and Adem Highlander had joined forces with Pendral once the madness overtook them too! He was cautious now, fearing that even if this was the real Adem Highlander; that he might already be too far gone to save.

Adem sheathed his blade and walked slowly towards Rayne with arms spread wide as if for an embrace. 'It's alright, Rayne, my dear grandson. I am not yet mad enough to be any danger to you. It is really me. Surely your Battle Angel has confirmed it?'

'He has, grandfather. I have seen things I do not wish to tell another soul, yet you must hear my words.' Rayne related what he had learnt of those possible futures. He watched Adem's eyes shine with fear and disgust as the tale was told in full. Finally, Adem said after a deep sigh: 'We will not let such dark omens and prophecies become our reality!'

'Perhaps,' Rayne replied. 'Or perhaps it is all futile! How long can we resist such corruption?'

'You must complete your quest, Rayne Dragon-Sword!' Highlander said with pride. 'I am searching for the heart of Komputah's power source. It is here at Rolimbtorel! Will you help me find it before you awaken?'

'Lead the way, grandfather,' Rayne said. He believed truly now that they were without hope, and that one or both of them would eventually bring ruin to the world. In one alternate future he had become the Lord of Vampires, his pride a part of the madness that blinded him to the havoc he had wreaked upon the people of Kismeria. His greatest fear now was that he saw no way to escape such a fate, other than to accept the terms of his bargain with the Angel of Death.

***

Hayley rode her horse beside her husband. Moving at a brisk trot with their Martyr Coven and Wil's warriors following, leading, and moving alongside. This pitch-black landscape had many dangers for horses. Vast craters in the worm ridden soil, as well as fallen tree trunks and similar sized objects of stone. What this place once was before it became a pathway between the Travelling Gates was a mystery not even their Battle Angels could solve.

Hayley was heavily guarded on both sides by vampires in heavy armour, as were their horses. These were heavy cavalry, with werewolves patrolling further out. All of them transformed into the savage hellhounds that was their curse, but also their greatest strength. The beasts sniffed at the darkness as they continued along a path of broken stone. Marked along the way by human skulls mounted on the ends of spears and pikes, rising from the soil like dragon fangs.

It proved one thing at least; they were not alone in this realm of darkness. Something was out there waiting for them. Something that enjoyed hunting men and women, presenting them as trophies. Lost souls littering the roadway. Their plight drove nails into her skull like a thousand tortured screams from the pit of hell, yet they were also symbolic of whatever had been achieved here. It was as if Jinn-Fendinn had torn a vast chunk out of the world, casting it aside to rot in the shadows.

Her heart still ached terribly at the loss of her daughter, the impact of that loss shaking her to her very core. She fought for resilience, as a burning rage began to rise within her spirit. She was craving revenge, and not just against a few Demonsouled. She wanted to take down the High-Servants. Every last one of them!

She was holding back the tears. Rage kept them at bay, but she was only now realising the horrors of her new reality. A world without the only person that had kept her sane. Enserah had provided the assurance that Hayley should be a leader that demonstrated justice, morality and honour. In an Age of Chaos. Dominated into ruin by the madness of madmen!

***

As Wil rode, he spread his ability to communicate with animals out to the many huge dogs Hayley had also brought with her. That first breeding pair Wil had purchased for his wife over a thousand years ago had given birth to a line of their breed that were mixed with other dogs over later generations, turning into packs that numbered in the thousands. The entire city had been swarming with them when he arrived. Hayley had brought over three hundred of the massive beasts with her on this mission.

Wil had sent dozens of the dogs running off into the shadows. To hunt and seek out whatever dangers were lurking out there. So far, none had picked up any scent of demons, yet their _kigare_ type mind connection reported images that Wil interpreted in his mind to meaning that many of them thought they could sense a very dangerous predator out there, hunting _them!_

Whenever Wil questioned them on the size or description or number of enemies they were _sensing_ , they sent back emotions of fear mixed with images of simply figures of shadow within darkness. He believed this was simply the images they could sense, as none yet had reported seeing anyone out there either.

The fact that these huge hunting dogs reported a sense of fear in regard to whatever they thought was hunting them also brought a mood of great trepidation upon Wil's heart and soul. He wanted to be out of this place as soon as possible, yet his Battle Angels kept having difficulties finding the right path. It was as if some other terrible force was confusing their course. Soon Gwydion and Dis Pater were also reporting a sense of some dangerous foe waylaying on the road ahead, as well as more following from behind and closing in around them.

Hayley warned her Vampire Guard of this, and Wil also gave word to those that formed his closest rings of defence. Werewolves and hunting dogs began to growl and bark at the shadows, and Wil wasn't certain what concerned him more, the apparent fear even of these werewolf beasts, or the fact that the noise they were making would be signalling their position to whatever it was they wished to avoid.

The tension in the air was palpable, mixed with a growing sense of nervousness and fear that seemed to be constricting the heart of every rider. They rode on through endless darkness.

***

Jean leapt from her horse to make her way to Adem's side. Jean and Carl had been wielding the Jinn Arts for some hours now. Devastating the demon ranks with Hellfire and Shadow Acid attacks in the form of Javelins, Cougars and Carl's Shadow Priests that stood ten feet tall—wreathed in burning shadows—wielding massive spears of crimson fire to hack through demon flesh in a wrath of carnage.

But now Jean decided that Adem had to wake. The battle was slipping out of their control. More and more demons flooded the darkened fields as they poured out of the mountain passes to the north: spreading their ranks. Agnars, Alit'aren and Ael Tarael fighting desperately to hold back the enemy in torrents of blood and flame.

Orion had not requested that Adem be woken, yet Jean knew now was the time they would require his strength in battle. Those hours he had rested should have given him the necessary recovery time to strike back at the enemy. She hoped he was ready to also advance upon these Witches and Warlocks. Taking back Angel-Magic that had been stolen from the world.

Yet when she tried to wake her husband, first with gentle shakes while speaking his name into his ear, then more forcefully, and finally with some degree of urgent desperation, she realised he was not going to wake up until he made that decision for himself. Tanriel explained that Adem was in the Dream Realm, and that Arawn was leading him through the tunnels of Rolimbtorel to seek out the location of Komputah's main power source.

This discovery was vital to their success, Jean knew this. Her fear began to grow at the prospect of holding back these demon hordes for a number of hours more as they waited for Adem to wake up! She told Tanriel to send her urgent need to Arawn, to inform Adem of the impending doom his people were facing without his strength in battle.

She realised there was nothing more she could do. She returned to her horse and climbed back into the saddle to better survey the killing fields. Her link was still formed with Carl, and Janeanne sat to Jean's right, also joined now in their link of three that gave them a destructive force similar to being linked with Adem and Carl. Janeanne was very strong, yet Adem was more instinctive in his ability to kill with Jinn-Magic, and Angel-Magic when it was available.

Jean knew it had a lot to do with his illness, some terrible darkness within his soul that made him the perfect weapon for annihilation of their enemies in a bloodbath of carnage. Her greatest fear was what might happen when he lost control of himself, if he gave in to that darkness? What would he do then, and what would he become?

She focused on the battle for now, wielding a thousand Acid Javelins that hailed down from above the demon horde. Massive shafts of burning crimson that split through skulls and torsos: demon flesh melting into congealed mass! Jean struck time and again with that same style of attack. Carl unleashed waves of Hellfire that flowed through the enemy ranks to burn demons to ash and cinders.

Janeanne's Golden Warriors numbered close to forty. Eight feet tall soldiers of pure gold; hacking burns through chests, slicing off limbs: decapitating with blades of laser light. Demons collapsed in chunks. Congealed flesh sizzling in piles in the wake of her daughter's fury!

_Ki'mera_ souls glowed in the air like a rainbow river, replenishing the exhausted spirits of every wielder on the field. Jean sensed her daughter's abhorrence for the evil presence of those demon souls when they entered her living flesh. Janeanne was quite anxious and fearful of this situation despite the brave defiance in her eyes. Battle was something quite new for her. She had lived a life of peace in Red River, sheltered and innocent, away from the terrors of the world outside her little village. Jean's heart ached to know the truth of this.

Shienden had also vanished into the clouds when Adem began to sleep. Jean was aware that her daughter was also able to communicate with the dragon, though she did not request that Shienden join the battle at this time. Dragonfire would be of great use here and now, but she understood enough about battle to be certain that Orion and Tobin would make such requests when they decided the time was right.

She guessed that Orion was saving the infinite magic of the Harp of Souls for just such a moment also. Heroes of Will would also be greatly welcomed on the battlefield if the situation worsened. Perhaps even being of greater use than the current strength of their Battle Angels when unleashed, though they too were conserving their energy within Resting Points while feeding off the growing stores of _ki'mera_.

We still have a few tricks up our sleeves!

***

Wil felt the tension increase as his forces quickened their pace. The path ahead monitored by scouting werewolves and hunting dogs—similar in size and appearance to a Great Dane—but also by vampires and other warriors wielding spheres of Jinn-Magic. To shed enough light to be able to check for pitfalls or other dangers. The dogs and werewolves were becoming increasingly agitated by the threat closing in on them, barking ferociously at shadows within darkness. The enemy still not revealing its size or form within range of those lights.

He sensed Hayley's overwhelming despair at the loss of their daughter. Wil was becoming a thing of darkness: rage and emptiness filled his heart and soul. His wife was also boiling with a temper that was almost out of control, yet there was a growing fear in both of them. Fear of the unknown. Fear of an enemy that could inspire panic in creatures with instinctive predator behaviours, the werewolf being without doubt the most dominant and ferocious hound left alive in this Age. Their nervousness was blatant, inspiring anger that was tinged with intimidation.

Wil began to wonder if some connection of tainted spirit was making it possible for the werewolves to _sense_ or at least pick up the scent of the actual kind of demon that was out there hunting them. The thought so intrigued him, that he finally attempted something new, forming that _kigare_ type mind meld with the werewolves closest to him. Speaking in animal tongue through images that were interpreted as words. Wil got the image he was seeking, and it filled him with horror! The werewolves had known for some time what was out there, due to some blood spirit sense of all Demonsouled. When Wil realised what it was that was closing in around them, he understood their instinctive fear! 'Be on your guard!' Wil shouted. 'The enemy is close! They are—'

His sentence was cut off as the spheres of light ahead fell upon a tall, dark cloaked figure in shining wet black armour of overlapping plates. Signature silver skull of a Souljhin embossed upon the breastplate. Three werewolves sprang into action, as the hunting dogs began to bark and snarl ferociously. The figure was taller than any other Souljhin that Wil had ever seen, over eight feet!

The first Wolf was caught by the neck by the massive figure, that actually lifted the beast with one hand. Another werewolf bit down on the Souljhin's sword arm, the blade glowing red hot in the darkness. A third bit into the demon-man's knee, but the first that had been lifted gave a whimpering sound of fear and submission before its throat was crushed. The Souljhin tossing the creature aside as its pale face and eyes of black malevolence were revealed. Hood falling down to its shoulders as those eyes locked on Hayley, burning with bloodlust and hatred for all living things! Yet it was the crooked grin on its face that made Wil shout, 'Eledisren!' as Hayley cried, 'Druantia!'

The Souljhin reached to rip out the upper spine of the werewolf biting down on his sword arm, with the now free left hand. It then swung the blade to cleave the skull free from the other that had been gnawing on its knee and calf: wolf skull rolling into shadows as blood spurted from the fallen neck! It spun towards the shadows, fleeing the light. Morphing back and emerging from darkness to the side of Hayley's horse—as dozens more Souljhin hacked at them on their flanks, splitting their defences. Crimson blades blurred: cutting a swathe through flesh and bone—its blade hacking the mare down in a spray of blood. Druantia's coils of vines wrapped around the largest Souljhin's wrists and ankles. Druantia and Dis Pater forming a linked wave of energy that blasted the other Souljhin flying back into the shadows. Hayley screamed as the horse collapsed to one side. Dis Pater was there to drag her free from the animal before it fell, holding her like a small doll in his arms as both Battle Angels spoke the name; 'Enserah!'

Two small hands of glowing light clutched the Souljhin from the back of its skull. Blazing bolts of lightning flared around those hands—dozens more white-hot tongues of flame fell from the darkness above: vaporizing Souljhin hiding in the shadows—as the coiled vines held the demon-man from any hope of escape. The creature gave a tortured scream before lightning tore through its chest. Pale skull exploding like a melon crushed under a mallet!

The body collapsed: revealing their daughter's shining form hovering in the darkness. So beautiful: eyes so serene and kind. 'Mother, Father, I shall not fail you again! But you must hurry! The doorway is not far from here! Flee! Now!' Hayley had already been placed behind Wil in his saddle. She clung to his waist as the _altherin_ horse began to move, but at a pace to allow their warriors to keep up. It wasn't long before screams and snarls of fresh victims began to fill the shadows. Battle Angel blades of magic continued to hail from the skies.

Chapter 18

The Will of Heroes

Rayne crouched low: peering over a ledge of rock, looking down through the vast cave. He spotted a number of dark cloaked figures, patrolling the underground city within the Dream Realm of Rolimbtorel. Rayne and his grandfather, Adem, had journeyed through the networks of caves and tunnels, stone walkways and chambers, to reach this location that Tohka Reiden insisted was very close to the source of Komputah's power.

They had not spoken a word to one another for some time. Rayne was pleasantly surprised to learn that his grandfather knew various forms of hand signal communication in both Nordic and Torvellen, likely explained to him via his own Battle Angel, Arawn. Adem crouched beside Rayne with his back against a large slab of stone. Keeping out of sight while Rayne surveyed the area and reported back to his grandfather with further hand signals.

The main reason they were using hand signs rather than just communicating via their Battle Angels, was that Adem had explained that the High-Servants had the ability to block their minds from their connection to their Battle Angels. This was in fact an ability Rayne was familiar with, and so they maintained this form of communication, in case Pendral or others showed up to block their minds from Battle Angel telepathy.

Rayne was signalling to Highlander that he could see three figures on patrol down there, moving along the stone walkways surrounding a series of doorways with a bright light glowing within. According to Tohka Reiden, that light was the power source they were seeking, under guard by Witches and Warlocks even here in the Realm of Dreams.

Two of the guards were female, Rayne's immortal sight was able to detect that much even across a great distance. Both of them pretty faced women, one Nordic, the other mortal, though they appeared of a similar age, despite how misleading such first impressions could be about Aelfin and Ael Tarael. Both wore velvet hooded robes that appeared to be black, but the blue-eyed Nordic was wearing very dark blue velvet, the dark eyed mortal a dark blood red.

Rayne did not know either of these women by their physical descriptions. He guessed it possible that they were actually quite young. Therefore: both would have been born after Rayne's original death, over three centuries before this period that he guessed was the real present.

The male was a tall Torvellen Warlock, large dark eyes and short black hair with grey at the temples. His hood was removed; he glared this way and that while moving between the two females on his patrol. The hood had been removed by the Torvellen some time ago, and Rayne wondered if it was any indication that they suspected they were being watched.

Rayne and Adem had taken down a large number of Dream Boli-Kuldr and other demons during their journey to this location, the two of them teaming up with stealth combination attacks to eliminate the guards while keeping out of sight as much as possible. Both men presumed there must be a more dangerous adversary out there waiting, watching, hunting them like a wolf stalking two prized stags. The chance that it was Rayne's father, Pendral, also seemed most likely, and the two of them were on their guard over just such presumptions.

***

Adem peered over the slab of stone. He could see the guards on patrol that his grandson had described with hand signals. He was anxious about the chance of being hunted here by Pendral or other High-Servants walking in the Dream Realm. His instincts were confirmed when a warp of crimson fire revealed a fourth figure, standing proudly in a dark hooded robe. He walked towards the Torvellen Warlock to converse.

Adem used another special ability of the Dream Realm to see the dark robed figure's face close up, as if looking through a telescope. His fear increased when he saw Pendral's face twisted with menacing madness. His son appeared more disturbed than usual, despite his confident stance. Adem prepared a shield before both Pendral and the Torvellen turned in their direction to hurl blasts of crimson energy: glowing hot bars of menacing magic!

Rayne had also prepared a Shield-Sphere—formed or matter manipulation—but the blast struck the rocks where they were hiding to remove the stones by some Dream Realm trick. There was no explosion or sound, the stones simply vanished! Adem dashed away from that position with the Shield-Spell in place, tightly locked around his flesh to deflect further attacks that missed him by inches. He ran with the speed of a Dremelden, though he knew he would not have this ability when he returned to the world of flesh.

He hid behind a larger column of stone; looking back to see his grandson morphing from one position to another. Rayne was taking cover as he used a kind of Dream Teleportation technique that Adem had not yet learnt. The two of them waited for the next attacks to come. Then suddenly the two females were also hurling thunderbolts in their direction. Thick blue tendrils blasting around either side of the thick stone columns where Adem and his grandson were hiding.

They could not continue in this manner. Adem suspected that Pendral could sense their location via some connection to the corrupt Battle Angel, Balor. This meant there was really no point in hiding. It was a matter of fight or flight! He chose to run instead. He already knew how to reach the source of Komputah's power. So, he told Arawn to inform Rayne that it was time to leave. Their minds had not been blocked from communicating with their Battle Angels yet. Which made Adem wonder if distance was a factor there. Once Rayne vanished to return to his body in the past, Adem did the same. Vanishing from his hiding spot as the roof above him began to tremble; deep cracks spreading through the stone ...

When he woke, Jean was at his side, kneeling and holding his hand tightly. Her face was grim with concern. Thunder tore the air, lightning flashing in the dark night sky as the roar of demons rose like a chorus of corruption. He sprang to his feet, helping Jean to stand as they quickly made their way back to their horses. Forsaken and other warriors flanking them with blades unsheathed.

When Adem was in the saddle he could survey the battlefield better. He saw that their defences were nearing breaking point. He turned to see Orion removing Odin's Harp from a leather sack tied to his saddle. The ancient Torvellen plucked three strings that resonated in the air like a song of woe. Bliss and courage. Determination and resilience. Wailing Ghost Heroes were heard all around them, building in volume. Adem felt emotions run deep through his heart and soul. He sensed the same from his wife, through their shared spiritual connection. Carl as well. It was always disconcerting to greet the dead.

***

Jean watched as a tunnel of fog appeared on the right flank of the demon horde. Lightning bolts flared around and within the tunnel. Horses of light rode out two abreast. Heroes of Will resplendent in silver and gold armour. Silken robes of crimson fire. Hair that glowed like starlight and eyes that burned with the power of the sun. Spirits made into living flesh.

Jean felt her heart nearly break when she saw the first two riders at the head of the column. With Jinn-Magic in her veins, she saw the features of dark eyed Terese Sapphire-Sword. Riding a pale horse like soft moonlight. Arig Flame-Bow rode beside her, on a tall stallion dark as night.

The Heroes charged along the flanks of demons. Making their way back within the front ranks of warrior defenders. Passing through that line of conflict as if they were made from moonlit air—yet the enemy lines were pulverised by a crushing wave of force and energies that emanated from the Heroes as they cut through their ranks on an angle to mesh with the defenders on the front line. A great cheer sounded from the Forsaken and other warriors that were given some relief from the demon advance. They fought back with ferocity to cut down thousands more with bolts of lightning and bars of flame, thrown from the fists of Alit'aren and Ael Tarael wielding the Jinn Arts. Dark Elves and other Elemental Archers firing waves of Acid Arrows to punch through demon armour and flesh—Terese and Arig moving their horses through the ranks to side up next to Jean and Adem's mounts.

'Terese, you're back!' Jean shouted with delight. The Hero of Will stared back with eyes that seemed to not recognize her, although she finally said, 'Well met, Daughter of Thor. It has been long since we shared the tales of our lovers. Holding hands when walking through the gardens of Nordhel, where I gave you your training.' Jean laughed and smiled back brightly, as a grin flashed across the lips of the dark braided ghost.

Other Heroes surrounded them in breastplates shining with the sigils of ancient Houses. Sleeves like blue velvet smoke and hair shining wet black, silver or gold. Sword hilts Lukrorian Bows, axes and other enchanted weapons adorned the Heroes that sat their mounts with dignity and pride. They deserved nothing more than Jean's absolute admiration and respect. They were amongst the greatest warriors to ever exist in this world. They had fought and died a thousand times so that others may yet live to uphold the honour of their sacrifices, in the endless struggle against tyrannical evil.

Kobahl Eagle-Blade was there, dressed in blue armour with twin silver eagles emblazoned on the breastplate. His pauldrons shaped like golden beaks with eyes of ruby. Wielding the massive golden-eagle hilted sword that glowed pale blue. Riding a white horse with eyes of dark fire. Beside him was Breeanna Golden-Arrow. Pale silver gown and crimson gauntlets. Golden hair shining like wet metal with eyes of burning blue. Riding a horse like brown mist with a white blaze. Crimson reins gripped in one fist. Lukrorian Bow shining bright jade over her shoulder, in a bejewelled case of silver and emeralds.

Rocard Flame-Fist and Elizel Light-Shield rode side by side. Vohn Red-Hawk in a blood red bird mask, crimson cuirass; dark trousers and boots with ornamental armour that shone with magnificence. The Battleaxe Brothers were there in plated silver. Axes burning aqua and emerald. Jarien Stone-Spear—with his spear of stone that would never break and never needed sharpening, light as a feather and capable of cutting through steel—Abigail Tormeidhellin—beautiful and wise. Wielding a sword of crimson light and a shield emblazoned with the Golden Tiger House sigil—Taebrel Golden-Sabre wielding his blade glowing warm amber. Even the first Nordic King, Rodin Cloud-Walker, was there with his piercing dark gaze under a crown of burning gold. Riding a horse of pale light with mane and tail shining black.

They were a spectacle to behold. Raw emotions of pity and pain, grief and bewilderment were always mixed with a thrill. Elation. Ecstatic joy that made the heart flutter and the pulse race. She wanted to burst into tears. She wanted to laugh, and she wanted to scream—No! Roar with the courage of a lioness!—but there was still much more to be done! There was a war to be won!

***

Adem searched through the throng of Heroes to survey each face. Looking for his grandson, Rayne Dragon-Sword. Fearing that some ill fate had brought him here as a Hero of Will. Which would mean their cause was lost, as it would be proof that Rayne had failed in his mission to return the Battle Angels of the past to the real present. He breathed a deep sigh of relief when he saw no sign of the man amongst the crowd of mounted ghosts. He hoped there was still some miracle at work that would bring about a victory to end this chaotic struggle. Rayne had to succeed, or this battle would end in disaster!

Adem shouted the name, 'Llew Llaw Gyffes!' A mauve bolt shot down from the skies to present the Battle Angel in a diminished form. Standing only eight feet tall, light and energy that should have emanated from his flesh now revealed more human features. Fragile skin and bone, an angel becoming mortal. Llew's eyes still burned with strength and courage. Drawing a blade that glowed deep purple: ready to join the warriors on the front line.

'I require you for another task, Great Angel,' Adem shouted, to the figure that stood only paces from his horse. 'I am hoping that a link between our own Battle Angels with your ability to teleport; may make it possible to bring a small force to our desired location in the undergrounds of Rolimbtorel!'

Llew nodded his agreement without speaking a reply, then Adem, Carl and Jean shouted the names of their three Battle Angels. Arawn, Math Mathonwy and Tanriel appeared in a flare of coloured energies. The male Angels standing side by side with Tanriel hovering above them on wings of blue flame. They did not immediately attack the demon army. They had not been instructed to waste their _ki'mera_ in this manner. Within a short time, Adem had assembled a force of Forsaken, Dark Elves and other Nordic and Torvellen warriors to join them on their quest. Bringing only one hundred men and women, as this was the number specified by Arawn as being the maximum Llew could carry with their current _ki'mera_ stores.

This would mean the Battle Angels would need rest the moment Adem brought his forces close to the source of Komputah's power.

The other option would be to allow the Battle Angels to fight the demons on the battlefield to gain vast stores of _ki'mera_ —making it possible to bring a much larger force within the depths of Rolimbtorel—as well as reducing the size of the enemy army. But again, the result would be more time spent in Resting Points before the teleportation technique could be used. Adem chose to move now, in consideration of the urgency of the situation.

Janeanne, Tobin and Lydia also joined them. Orion was unwilling to leave this army without sufficient leadership, and Adem understood that without either Tobin or Orion there sitting his mount as their Lord General, the morale and courage might begin to wither. Giving the demons the edge that they needed, to crush Adem's army, before he could find a way to complete his mission.

As a wail of Heroes and shouts of warriors sent them on their way, Llew began the teleportation technique. The world shifted around Adem and his warriors, sending them deep within the city of Rolimbtorel. They also brought Karbul the Giant, Adem's personal bodyguard against Balor the Corrupted.

***

Rayne woke within the Mikihara Forest to learn that the demon army had broken through the enchanted wards. Dark shapes began to appear through the trees in the distance. Bull horned and ram skulled creatures that were shot down by Lightning-Arrows of Dremelden Wood Kin, leaping across branches as shafts of coloured energies flew from their Lukrorian Bows. Blasting demons apart on impact, though the demon army was immense. Soon Rayne could see thousands of Nymloc and Jacoulra, Souljhin and Boli-Kuldr marching towards them from three positions. South, east and west, their only choice was to flee northwards in the hope of reaching the Mountain of Odin's Throne. But there were many other demons amongst their ranks. Fourteen feet tall Rohgorahl, wielding double-bladed axes that blazed like wet magma. Wolves of the Shadow, some were mounts for the Rohgorahl, though others were just led on the hunt by demons of shadow and flame. Some stood eighteen feet tall, built wide as eight- wheel wagons, thick muscled beasts with scaled skin black as midnight. Heads of lions with shadow-manes. Eyes like orbs of burning magma. These Rohn'Khali were perhaps as fearsome and difficult to defeat as any Shadow Dragon.

Wargarhyde, the great blue feathered Druantia Child, stood shouting in a deep brave voice, to awaken the other warriors that still lay in slumber on the night that would not end. Still exhausted from their great labours to enchant their weapons, that would serve as Resting Points for the Great Angels of old. 'Awake! Awake, little Children of Odin! Awake Nordic First Bloods! The demon army approaches! Awake! Awake!'

Rayne watched as Druantia's Children joined the battle from the treetops and branches. Strange little creatures of furry, tree-bark skinned, or even some with flesh that looked like stone, struck with vehemence and power. Incinerating demon flesh or melting it from their bones. There were hundreds of these Forest Aldebrands, but the demon army was much greater in number.

The Children of Odin awoke one by one, as did the other warriors that had joined them on their quest. Rayne saw more of the Dremelden move through the forest with a speed of a gale force wind. Trained by Druantia's Children in Wood Lore, these ancient immortals cut down demons with Chaos-Blades and Lightning-Arrows. Some running across the forest floor, now that their numbers were increasing. Others rained down fire from the trees to drive Nymloc and Boli-Kuldr skulls into the dirt.

Thousands of demons gathered on the distant horizon, through the trees to the south. Children of Odin moved to surround Rayne on all sides, as Rayne drew the Sword of Valour. A great light filled the darkness of the forest, as the Children of Odin began to join him in a massive link. At the peak of that link Rayne shouted, 'Tohka Reiden!'

Bolts of lightning struck the demon army in the distance. Burning-Dragons entwined the pillars of white flame to descend upon the enemy ranks. Gorging on demon flesh. Melting armour and steel to slag. Tearing off limbs. Burning bones to ashes! As the link built to a crescendo within Rayne and his fellow Children, they unleashed a wave of blue fire that charged through the forest: rising higher as it flowed southward through the trees. Spreading on impact; the attack blasted the enemy as it surged in a wild blazing blue conflagration. Frying the demon ranks, incinerating flesh and bone, blasting limbs free in black bloody bursts, skulls exploded, necks spraying like fountains. Rayne saw thousands of demons lit up by the blast. Skeletons burning white through dark flesh before blood and bone was burnt to smouldering ashes. This small victory would buy them the time they needed to flee northwards, in the hope of reaching the mountain.

***

Wil and his forces moved through the dimension of darkness with haste and unease—Hayley clinging to his waist behind him in the saddle of his _altherin_ mare—It had been some time since they had witnessed their daughter, Enserah, battling the Souljhin that pursued them through this strange place. Her bolts of lightning still lit up the shadows: striking more of those adept adversaries while werewolves and hunting dogs continued to howl, anxious and distressed.

Even now, with the doorway of fire within sight—yet still far off in the distance—Wil still heard the sounds of his protectors being hacked down by Souljhin blades on the outskirts of their defences. Even werewolves and vampires were not enough to stand against these formidable foes that hunted with stealth to pick off their prey one by one.

He estimated they had lost over fifty dogs from the sounds of their last fearful yelps—many of them joined to his mind via the Dremelden animal communication technique—twice as many werewolves, and perhaps eighty or more warriors. At least half would include Hayley's Martyr Coven Vampires. The only thing keeping them alive was the combined Link between Druantia, Dis Pater, Gwydion and Enserah. Lashing out at their skulking enemies with Blizzard-Lightning and Bolt-Rain. Vaporizing dozens as the seconds ticked over. Yet there had to be hundreds more Souljhin out there. Cries of their victims never ceased!

***

Orion utilized the skills of the Heroes of Will to the best of his ability as a Lord General. He positioned ghost warriors on the flanks and along the front line of their defences. Ancient Heroes of Kismeria unleashing devastating attacks of Elemental Magic—spears that hurled lightning bolts, Lukrorian Bows firing Lightning-Arrows of coloured light; others wielding enchanted blades and axes burning brightly in the darkness—as they hacked down waves of demon flesh and incinerated bones into piles of smoking ash. Other warriors shouting in triumph to see the impact of these Spirit Wardens. Not only holding back the enemy; but reducing their number with speed and ease. Demons began to falter and even attempt retreat, against the waves of their spawnbrothers, that continued to push them forwards into the jaws of annihilation.

Orion set Archers and Dark Elves along the fourth line of defence, with others on the front-line flanks. Firing Acid Arrows and Shadow Flame from their bows to cut down demons in waves: flesh melted into bubbling piles, limbs were torn free and skulls exploding. Warriors moved further out and alongside the flanks of the demon front lines. Forming a wall on both sides. His warriors harried the enemy with Archers and Dark Elves firing from each flank, while those walls began to swell with heavy cavalry, Agnars and pikemen on foot to hold back the enemy if they attempted to escape.

He would have liked to have Adem or Janeanne on hand to summon Shienden from the skies, to vaporize the enemy held within this funnel, or a few Battle Angels to unleash their wrath at full potential in a Link. His only resource to create such carnage were the Spirit Wardens he sent amongst the demon ranks. Golden Tigers tearing through flesh and bone in sprays of dark blood. Pixie Wardens of Shadow Flame sent by his wife Elmira that flew like arrows to punch through skulls and tear off limbs. Tarz and his link of Forsaken added to the onslaught with their own Acid Serpents, Shadow Lions and other Wardens amongst the masses, tearing down demons to bite off skulls and shred through flesh and bone that burst, melted and burnt into dust!

Wielders added to the anarchy with Acid Javelins from the skies, splitting through skulls and torsos to melt demon flesh in savage explosions, while others hurled lightning bolts of Jinn-Magic from their fists, or sent waves of flame roaring through the enemy ranks. The Jinn-Spells sometimes enhanced by Carl Wilder: producing aqua Javelins, amber bolts of lightning and emerald waves of flame. Reducing the impact of the Jinn-Magic upon the Forsaken and other Alit'aren and Ael Tarael that fought on the front lines. Breaking the demon ranks apart with unrelenting determination and force.

Fien Marghotha and his Lady Jeimella were close by to lend Orion support in surveying the battle. Providing advice on how to arrange his forces to maintain strength and resilience against such a massive horde of demons. Fien appeared partly offended to be put in second place to Orion's leadership. Orion guessed the Lord General had expected Orion to join Adem Highlander, taking his wife Elmira with him. Which would leave Fien in full command with Tarz and his Forsaken as his second advisors. Fien had to understand the importance of Orion's presence here at this desperate hour, however. Orion's reputation had always far exceeded that of Fien's in terms of battle strategies and ability to command. Fien's advice was always taken on board. Orion did his best to show appreciation for the man's role in maintaining order on this field of chaos.

***

Hayley and her husband climbed down from the saddle to quickly make their way towards the doorway of light that would hopefully take them to safety from this cursed realm. They had remained behind as most of their forces evacuated through the Portal of white fire. Hayley and Wil's Battle Angels were crucial in holding back the Souljhin, that picked off victims while they surged around the small doorway, surrounded by endless shadows.

She felt real terror as she heard the strangled yelps and savage howls of her pet dogs and Martyr Coven Werewolves, attempting to serve as a barrier between the warriors that sat their horses with horrified expressions. Crimson blades flaring in the darkness, cutting down anyone that was within reach. These Souljhin were relentless, yet they had played a game with Hayley's forces as they attempted to flee through this dark realm. Taking out their outer defences one by one. Increasing the fear in her warriors as the evidence of a trap became undeniable. Chances of escape seeming unlikely.

Hayley watched as dozens of dark cloaked figures stepped into the light of Alit'aren flame spheres. Her Vampire Guard being first to cross blades with the creatures, but twice as many of her warriors were cut down in seconds as Forsaken and other Agnars rushed to protect their leaders.

Enserah struck with bolts of white flame, taking down half the Souljhin in a heartbeat. Wil and Hayley unleashed torrents of Jinn-Magic against four of the remaining twelve. Alit'aren Forsaken struck with Acid Javelins that split through the skulls of three more. Druantia and Dis Pater sent shockwaves of burning force glowing emerald and amber. Blasting back others that attempted to step into the light.

'It's time to go!' Wil shouted. Hayley realised they would need to sacrifice more faithful warriors to ensure both she and Wil reached safety. She stepped through the thick gel like substance that felt like cold dead hands groping at her skin; Wil close behind as she heard a cold cruel voice emanating that was certainly Jinn-Fendinn. 'HAYLEY MARTYR, YOU ARE THE KEY TO MY SUCCESS!'

When they reached the other side of the portal it was still night-time. She saw stars and the moon. There was light! Tears welled in her eyes as she looked back expectantly to see how many more made it out alive. Her heart sank as she waited and waited, realising eventually that none would come. They had likely remained behind to die fighting. The honour code of immortals was a terrible thing to bear responsibility for.

Finally, one of her dogs made it through the stone doorways before they closed with a creaking groan. It was Sevria! Hayley's heart burned with elation when she inspected the animal to find that she was unharmed! 'You are a very lucky and clever girl, Sevria!' Hayley said in a delighted tone. Soon the rage of so much loss was swelling in her heart once more. With her forces assembled, she clutched her husband's waist in the saddle. They rode on through the night. She could not hold back her tears over the loss of Enserah. That was a crime that demanded retribution! It was a terrible pain that would burn in her heart for eternity.

***

Shaye had located the source of Komputah's power. Deep within the catacombs beneath the cemetery. He sensed the raw emanations of force from the large crystal sphere, that stood on a slab of obsidian. Both were smooth rounded objects. The sphere over twelve feet in diameter. The sphere glowed pale aqua, then golden, crimson, orange and emerald, repeating in a pattern of colours. The object was humming with the resonance of Angel-Magics contained within.

Shaye realised that these were Great Angel powers. Elemental Magic combined and trapped within the sphere, containing a large portion of Angel-Magic, that should have been available to all wielders in this region. He guessed there were more like it, yet this was not the true source of Komputah's power.

'How could we possibly do any damage to this power source?' Ellagon asked with wonder as he gazed at the glowing orb.

'Our Battle Angels should be able to destroy it, but they will need our help. The rest of you, evacuate the chamber and get back to the surface immediately!'

Shaye and Ellagon waited until the vast stone chambers were empty. They summoned their Battle Angels in a flare of coloured energies. Kohbahl and Tamigol hovering in the air on wings of emerald flame.

When their Shield-Spheres were in place, reinforced by Kohbahl and Tamigol, the two Angels and Children of Odin blasted the sphere with bolts of pure lightning, emerald, aqua and golden fires struck and wrapped around the source of power like a crushing claw. Entangling the light with greater light. Burning brilliance surged and flowed until the darkness was lit up by white hot magnificence. The sphere exploded: a sound like Jinn-Fendinn's roar!

Coloured energies were released from the sphere, surging up through the roof of the chamber and likely rushing up into the clouds. Blending with the earth and trees and rivers, the stolen Power of the Great Angels was returning to this part of Kismeria!

Shaye could feel it too! An overflow of Angel-Magic was now coursing through his veins. He knew instantly that he would be able to teleport over much greater distances now that Angel-Magic was restored to some of its former capacity.

As the Battle Angels returned to their Resting Points, Shaye formed a portal that enveloped both himself and Ellagon, bringing them to the surface where they anxiously waited for the return of their warriors that were still in the tunnels below.

When his warriors had returned, he formed another Portal-Spell, this one returning them to the village where the battle was now nearing an end. The Forsaken drove off the remaining enemies—and he would leave enough warriors to protect the village from further attacks—though he now knew he had destroyed the one reason these villagers had been attacked for the last three years. Jinn-Fendinn did not want that sphere to be discovered.

He rushed to give Ragan the good news. Soon they were assembling their forces to make a giant leap from here to Rolimbtorel.

He was about to form the Portal-Spell when he received word from Wil Martyr's Battle Angel, Gwydion. Shaye learnt then that they too were fast approaching the battle at Rolimbtorel, yet they were still an hour's ride from there.

Bring your forces to me first, Shaye Eagle-Soul. We have need of your portal ability, as we are still unable to create one, though we sense Angel-Magic returning here also. Hurry, Child of Odin! We need your help!

***

Orion was given the warning with just enough time to act. Horns sounded to alert the warriors that demons were approaching now from the southeast. A vast horde of Rahkwel and Nymloc that must have been brought through another Travelling Gate. Just as he had suspected!

Fortunately, he had taken precautions for just such an eventuality, leaving a sufficient rear guard ready for such attacks. He moved his focus to giving commands to captains that commanded that section of their forces. Aldebrands, Agnars and other warriors including Forsaken Alit'aren fortified the front lines of the rear guard, with Archers and cavalry on the flanks.

The demon army approached with great speed. The goblins were ferocious as they wailed their bloodthirsty war cry, including thousands on their front flanks riding those horrid demon boars, a sign of the corruption of this Age.

Archers let fly waves of arrows of Acid and Shadow Flame. Others fired wooden arrows or crossbow bolts with steel broad head tips, punching through Rahkwel armour and driving those vile pigs into the dirt. Acid Flame causing demon flesh to rip and burst on impact, but the demon army surged forwards with vehemence. Orion ordered the pikemen and Agnars to prepare to defend themselves. Alit'aren formed Teron-Shields; now that a fraction of Angel-Magic was returning to the world. Orion guessed this was not the work of Adem Highlander, or else Angel-Magic would likely be fully restored.

A score of Heroes also joined the rear guard, including the First King, Rodin. He blasted the demon ranks with a wave of blue lightning, dragging the pure line of force through the enemy lines to cut down swarms before they reached the line of defenders. Other Heroes and a host of Children of Odin unleashed Lightning-Arrows: cutting down enemies in blasts of burning impact. Orion unleashed a line of Golden Tigers to stand guard before the front lines as the demon horde collided with Shield-Walls. Agnar and Forsaken swords hacked and slashed in a frenzy, cutting off limbs, skulls or severing torsos in half as the Rahkwel and Nymloc hammered at the Shield-Walls with unrelenting rage!

The battle had lasted far longer than Orion would have hoped. This night seemed like it would last at least until Angel-Magic was fully restored. This meant those Shield-Spells would not hold up much longer. His wielders were tiring from endless exertion with Jinn-Magic and now Angel-Magic in its limited supply. He needed reinforcements, and without a Battle Angel on hand he had no communication with any of the Sons of Odin. He began to fear this would end in catastrophe!

***

Elmira felt a flood of hope and elation. A large portal of light opened on the right flank of the Rahkwel and Nymloc horde attacking from the southeast. Her immortal eyes scanned the faces of those that rode through. She nearly gasped to see Wil Martyr and his wife Hayley riding a pale _altherin_ that charged out behind a host of Forsaken and other immortal riders!

She saw Shaye Eagle-Soul and his Brother Ellagon, and their inseparable companion Ragan riding alongside Wil Martyr's horse. Riders charged head on to attack the demon wedge, flames of Jinn-Magic and Angel-Magic launching from the fists of Forsaken and other wielders, blasting the sides of the demon army. Riders impacted with the wedge to hack and slash their way through. Thunderous hooves trampling demons into the dirt!

Wil and Hayley's Battle Angels took to the skies, along with two more that Elmira recognized as Tamigol and Kohbahl. Four Angels forming a Link. Lightning began to fall in blazing shafts of colour, along with white hot bolts that seemed to be created by the fifth Angel that Elmira did not recognize, at first. She felt a stab of pain to note the features of the little female figure to be exactly like Hayley Martyr. Elmira then knew the terrible fate of their daughter, Enserah!

The demon forces buckled and scattered under the force of impact. Bolts of lightning blasted the fields to send Rahkwel bodies flying in sprays of dark blood and torn limbs. Nymloc flesh fried to vapour as waves of Angel-Magic vanquished thousands in a surging conflagration of incinerating heat and light!

Elmira felt the courage and pride of her husband rising, as he too looked upon this turn of good fortune. Their old _kigare_ link reinvigorated via the return of Angel-Magic in the land and sky.

Her husband did not waste this opportunity either, quickly giving the order for the heavy cavalry to charge upon the demon flanks. Archers and Agnars began to fight with renewed spirits, Heroes and Children of Odin adding to the carnage with waves of flame and bars of hot glowing energy to cut down demons or burn them into dust!

Suddenly, a sixth Battle Angel appeared in the night sky on wings of white flame. It was Gwydion, the Magician God. With his strength added to the Angel Link, the demon fields became a bloodbath of lightning and fire. The ground rupturing into molten flame, as lightning bolts fell both here on the rear defence lines, but also to the north where the first demon army still pushed against their Alit'aren and Ael Tarael shields. Victory was now possible. She silently prayed that Adem Highlander would succeed!

Dis Pater and Kohbahl thudded to the earth amongst the massacre, unleashing waves of golden and emerald flame as they swung their enchanted weapons. The two Angels now displaying something closer to their former might. A return of Angel-Magic would be fuelling their abilities. There was no doubt of this when she witnessed their destructive abilities explode upon the battlefield.

Demons were blasted into cinders as Dis Pater's golden axe cleaved through skulls, split chests and tore torsos in two. Elemental Fire coursing from the swipe of his blades that roared through the enemy ranks like raging orange dragons. Those dragons scorched flesh and bone to collapse in piles of smoking ashes.

Kohbahl wielded a Jade Hammer with two massive fists on the haft. He pummelled demon flesh into the ground with speed and ferocity. The impact of each strike sent out shockwaves of incinerating heat that vaporized dozens of demons in surrounding circles. Emerald Dwarves shot up out of the flames to hack through demon flesh with burning Jade Axes.

This miracle of reinforcements with Battle Angels had surely saved them. Her husband had to know this, for Rahkwel were more tactical than other demons, more adept at finding a way around such defences. They did not attack in a methodical wedge of grinding teeth and claws. They had archers, pikemen and swordsmen. They would have surrounded Orion's forces in a short while if Wil Martyr had not come to their rescue. This knowledge must have shamed her husband greatly, but she believed he would have found a way to keep most of his warriors alive. So long as this battle did not actually last _forever!_

***

Adem and Jean crept closer to the ridge of stone overlooking the doorways to Komputah's power source. The area was even more heavily guarded here in the real world compared with the Dream Realm. Adem's vision was not as good here as it had been then, but he was certain none of the dark robed men were Pendral. Not something he could sense. He was just certain by the stance of the seven Warlocks.

Pendral would be there when the battle started up. Adem had to be ready for him. They had waited some time; first arriving in caves nearby. Allowing their Battle Angels to rest until they reported what Adem also could now feel. Angel-Magic had been restored to some degree. Mostly further to the east, but it was tangible here also. He was certain he could now wield _teron_ to a certain extent, though it was as of yet unlikely to serve him as well as Jinn-Magic or his matter manipulation technique.

He and Jean, along with Carl, agreed via the _kigare_ that they could now all also sense terrible pain in Wil's heart and soul. A great darkness was growing there, and they knew the reason for it. Their Battle Angels had explained the fate of Wil's daughter, Enserah. It made Adem wish there was something he could do to reverse the damage.

There were half a dozen Witches down there too. Robed in colours so dark they appeared black. Adem remembered those female faces he had seen in the Dream Realm, women with pretty faces that were also displays of madness and corruption. Mostly visible in their large eyes but also their strained visage. Any Ael Tarael that turned to serving the High-Servants would have to be a most dangerous adversary, along with these former Alit'aren. It was the corruption upon their minds that was the control, and perhaps the biggest problem the Sons and Daughter would have to face was finding a way to defeat them.

Arawn informed him that there were over fifty Witches and Warlocks within the large chamber, beyond the glowing doorways. Here, the doorways did not glow. They were sealed up by heavy iron doors, yet he knew this was the right place. Not only from memory but also confirmed by their Battle Angels, Llew Llaw Gyffes had served them well.

His own forces gathered here outnumbered the enemy nearly two to one, but there was still the chance of Pendral and Balor turning up—Adem was certain those inside the chamber had been alerted by Pendral. He was sure an ambush would be waiting for them—and if they brought a host of High-Servants or Hex-Keepers with them, well, Adem just hoped his Battle Angels could protect them long enough while they figured out a way to destroy the power source.

Carl moved up alongside Adem to view the enemies below. He conferred with Adem via their Battle Angels of his expert strategy for taking them down in a humane manner. Carl did not want to kill people unless it was absolutely necessary. After that trip to what seemed to be Kismerian Hell, Adem had his own reasons to agree. He had his own soul to consider, and if possible, he wanted his reputation to be maintained, without further tarnish. Adem also knew that for Carl, as a Christian, this was a law he lived by.

The result of his plans was that the three of them crouched; watching as Arawn, Math Mathonwy and Tanriel morphed to appear down on the stone walkways below. Garbing themselves in dark robes that did not glow. They remained unseen, using stealth to hide behind columns and under bridges.

Adem, Jean and Carl watched with growing satisfaction as the three Battle Angels skulked about, picking off individual Witches and Warlocks by leaping out to grasp them from behind. Holding them in an inescapable grip with a hand covering their mouths as they dragged their victims back into the shadows. Binding and gagging them via some magical ability. The humane method was working. Adem sensed his old friend beaming with pride to witness it.

Karbul was down there also. Wearing his cloak of illusion to hide his massive form, in preparation to bash down a number of those heavy doors.

***

Orion nearly howled with anguish when he watched the Heroes of Will returning to the Harp of Odin in a flare of colourful lights. Heroes required rest after so much exertion. Orion knew this would cost him dearly, perhaps even the loss of hundreds of lives!

The Battle Angels were also showing signs of reaching their peak. Elemental Magic blasted Rahkwel and Nymloc to the southeast; Bolt-Rain falling to the north. Orion knew the Angels would soon return to Resting Points also.

This surprise rescue had gained him some advantage. The southeast demon horde was now scattered and driven into fits of terror. Archers rained arrows down upon them to take out hundreds more like a flickering pulsing river of light. Heavy cavalry circled back to move into formation for a second charge. This tactic perhaps also being necessary to ensure Wil Martyr's warriors made it out of the demon masses alive.

His Agnars and Alit'aren swordsmen on foot he kept back behind the protection of Shield-Walls for now. Hundreds of warriors formed wedges with the narrowest edge facing the approaching horde, with small gaps between each wedge, to create tight passageways for the goblins to attempt to break through. If the wedges held formation, and their blades were swift, the demons would be cut down in waves, a veritable bloodbath.

Orion knew the dangers of such a formation. When the demon bodies began to pile high, they would provide a footbridge for nimble Nymloc and charging Rahkwel to cross over to the centre of their defences. For this reason, Orion was preparing to evacuate his main forces through another gap of defenders to the west. They would fall back towards a ridge line with a ruined wall of stone and other deeper defences where they would make a final stand.

He fortified the front lines further ahead of those wedges with ranks of swordsmen behind Alit'aren Shield-Spells, but they would break formation on his signal, when he was alerted to the fact that the Shield-Walls were about to break. They were running out of time. If the swordsmen did falter and scatter, his army would fight toe to toe with savage demon tooth and claw. He knew that within time his forces would be massacred!

***

Rayne and the Children of Odin parted ways with the rest of their company, at the foot of the Mountain of the Gods. A massive snow-capped peak, ringed with grey clouds that swirled in the starlit sky. Night had still not ended, and Rayne believed now he knew why.

The Giants and ancient immortals said their farewells with sad expressions. Little Grom insisted he could do no more for them. Fate depended on his return to his father, but he would remain here with the host of warriors to defend this approach to the mountain against the invading demon army. Rayne felt a wash of emotions to depart from such well-earned company. They were amongst the bravest souls he had ever met. They had surely gained a name for themselves in the legends that would be told far into the future.

Rievenna and Rayne were almost equal in speed at running. They began the ascent together. At times when the stone wedges were too high and steep to cross over, he would lift her up with Wings of Odin flaring blazing blue from his shoulders. Dropping her on a perch higher up, where they continued to charge upwards with the speed of a half-blood and an Aelfin.

Other Children of Odin were able to form short distance Portal-Spells to ascend—though they used these after they had climbed beyond the clear sight of warriors that were still fighting below. Avoiding the chance of any learning such Angel-Magic so early in the history of the world—and Elarja was able to use a similar tactic via the Time Stones being so close to a source of Great Angel Magic. The First Resting Point of Odin and his Brothers and Sisters, while other Children were Aelfin also, and they charged with blinding speed and made huge jumps to get over seemingly impassable boulders; landing on higher ledges.

It was not long before the test of the Great Angels was placed upon them. Spirit Wardens of a warm amber glow began to appear higher up, upon the sides of the mountain. Wielding swords or spears of that unleashed blasts of brilliant flame. Rock exploding on impact as Children darted to escape the attacks! There was an old legend Rayne had heard that 'Only a true warrior may ascend the Mountain of Odin,' and that 'The Chief of Angels searches the heart of every man and woman that dares to seek him out. They shall be tested to discover if they are worthy of an audience with the First Born.'

The Spirit Wardens launched into the skies on blazing wings, striking at the Children with incinerating blasts. Those with swords dived like hawks, attempting to drive the Children of Odin into the stone of the mountain.

The Children fought back, firing Lightning-Arrows or unleashing their own forms of Angel-Magic from fist or spear. Dodging each attack with a natural born ability that spoke of the rareness of their kind. They were determined to succeed.

Rayne launched into the sky on Odin Wings, crossing swords with one of the Asgardian Wardens. Sword of Valour clashed with the Guardian's blade amidst a roar of thunder. The Warden was sent flying through the air, crashing into the side of the mountain to melt into a glowing pile of dust. Rayne grinned to learn that these enchanted beings could be defeated!

He shouted the name, 'Tohka Reiden!' The mountainside was lit up by blazing white bolts of lightning. Serpentine dragons coiling around pillars of light that broke off from the bolts, seeking out Wardens that now moved with signs of caution. Dragons chomped down on Warden flesh and bone, reducing Aesir Magic to piles of smoking dust. Tohka Reiden appeared on a floating cloud to hurl white fire from his fists, striking Wardens with the fury of an Angel.

Rievenna's smile was beautiful as she looked his way, before leaping to dodge a blast from a Warden spear high up above her. If Rievenna had fallen pregnant, she still was not telling him about it. The endless night had not resulted in a child being born and growing up while time seemed to stretch on for infinity. Time was in fact frozen, but they were still able to move about. It was Jinn-Fendinn's influence over the Time Stones, that had to be the answer. They had to overpower Jinn-Fendinn before he learnt to freeze them all too! That would leave them helpless. Statues of flesh and bone to be devoured by ravenous demons.

***

Horns sounded to the northeast. Close to the mountain passes leading higher to the Hardark Rohn clan regions. Orion recognized that these were horns used by the invaders from across the West Sea. Those that Adem Highlander had so many times referred to as Vikings, which was a common name now used for them by many Kismerian people. The clan that had fought for Highlander on the slopes of Kerak'Otozi a thousand years before were known as the Honds, and Orion saw that the majority of these approaching riders were of that very clan!

They rode larger horses than those common to the Free Lands. Vikings were sometimes larger than immortals. Orion saw that there were Giants charging alongside them, at least a hundred of them! Their horns continued to sound as the Honds, and other clansmen, began to roar with courage and bloodlust. Charging towards the right flank of the northern demon hordes. Suddenly hundreds more bolts of lightning were falling upon the demon ranks: blasting flesh to dust and vapour. Elemental Magic wielded by the many Alit'aren Vikings that rode in that column of over two thousand warriors. Swords and axes hacking through demon skulls as their horses collided and broke through their flanks—Giants wielding massive broadswords slicing Souljhin and Jacoulra in half with glowing steel—horseshoes enchanted with old magic stomping demons into fire and ash!

Tarz and his Forsaken still defending the northern side of their forces began to unleash Angel-Magic and Jinn-Magic with devastating effect, their confidence building evidently over the arrival of fresh reinforcements.

Behind the Honds rode another column of horsemen. These were mostly mortals of the Hardark Rohn clan. At least fifteen hundred mounted warriors that were known as some of the fiercest warriors in the land. That second column rode along the right flank to cut through the demon wedge close to the front lines of defence. Trampling demon skulls into the dirt: hacking and slashing with enchanted blades. Riders cleared a wide enough gap for the Forsaken Alit'aren to reposition their shields, and so now their northern defences were bolstered with fresh swords. Orion saw opportunity to create a fresh tactic of charges, aided by Angel-Magic and the Jinn, to soften the demon ranks when the time was right.

This would buy them more time, but the demon army to the north continued to pour forth in waves, it seemed endless! There was no way of wiping them out without Great Angel Magic on a massive scale. The Heroes of Will were still not rested enough to return to fight. His hope rested on Adem Highlander and Rayne Dragon-Sword, on a night when time was standing still, but at the same time it was also running out!

He needed to take charge; he needed to be the leader he once was. He left Fien and Jeimella in command on the southern defence lines. Orion and Elmira charged up through the ranks to return to command on the northern end. Tarz's ruined face appeared strained from the amount of Jinn-Magic he and his Alit'aren were wielding in their link. Orion saw relief there when he commanded the Lord General to take a break.

The Honds and Giants were working their way down through the demon ranks towards the front line of defenders. Orion gave commands to move the shields in front of them when a space was cleared. The Giants seemed to instinctively guess at such a tactic when they neared the front line. Hacking down the larger demons and stomping the smaller ones with their boot heels to clear a path for the Shield-Walls to be repositioned. Shield-Spells would not last much longer. Yet having Giants at the forefront of each Agnar wedge would be of great advantage. He shouted these orders to the captains and lieutenants nearby. Immortal leaders rode off through the ranks to reorder the formation of defence.

With the roar of demons and the thunder rolling through the heavens, Orion found he had to shout even to the immortals close to his side. Orion was also nearing exhaustion from wielding at this point. He needed rest, and so did everyone else! He was rarely a man for prayer, yet at this point he was even willing to appeal to the great Son of God, Christ, for a miracle that could save them!

They had gained some ground to the north however, and the reformation and extra warriors allowed him to spread the defenders more evenly around the Domed-Shield defences. Agnar wedges forming a ring around the army. His leaders mostly deep within that circle, as they were the head of command, and most vital to their hopes of survival.

Orion had to be closer to the front lines each time he gave commands however, to better see the battle lines. To account for each life lost, each tactic gone wrong. To better understand a way that he could win this war. He also knew this was partly foolish, for if he fell, this army would collapse as despair and a great loss of honour took hold. Tarz was just as vital in this regard due to the large number of Forsaken defending the front lines. If the honour of his people was so greatly tarnished, their shame would overwhelm them. Added to the fact that most of them were already half mad!

***

Rayne soared up the mountainside on Wings of Odin. Enemy Spirit Wardens were now defeated, yet before long he saw crimson Portal-Spells forming further up the mountain slope. Shadow Generals appeared. Dark cloaked figures over eight feet tall. Some with skulls of bulls or rams, others feathered eagle heads with large hooked beaks. The largest had the skull of a lion like the Rohn'Khali. There was seven of them. Their attacks were infinitely more powerful than the High-Servants, and they wreaked havoc upon the mountain. Blasts of Hellfire launching from crimson blades and glowing axes. Rayne and the Children leaping frantically, yet the Children were able to maintain shields via the increased power of their weapons. This defensive system holding up whenever they were too late to escape a blast of flames.

Tohka Reiden and Rayne formed a link to blast the Generals with Bolt-Rain and Burning Dragons. Rayne also noted that none of the Generals were willing to oppose the Sword of Valour in a clash of steel. Once Rayne realised this advantage, he used Odin Wings to launch an assault against each General. Driving them into submission. Waves of _teron_ launching with each blade swing. Aqua flame scorching the Generals despite their Shield-Spheres. Eventually even these potentially invincible foes admitted defeat and fled in crimson flares.

After another hour or more of ascending without opposition, Rayne and the Children neared the peak of the mountain to discover the Seat of Odin. A surprisingly small stone throne suitable for any mortal—set upon a rock plateau jutting out from the mountainside—and with Elarja's instructions, Rayne took the seat to gaze out over the land. Here he could see that this spot was ideal as the Heart of Great Angel Magic. Stone and earth of the mountains for Angels such as Runen and Kohbahl. Sky and clouds for Tanriel and other Angels of the High Realm. Forests for Druantia, Fodla and Eriu, and other Forest Angels. Rivers flowing through the stretch of mountains across the western coastline, that flowed into the sea for the River Gods, and the King of the Sea, Nepton.

Here the Great Angels could gather their Powers, united in their cause to spread Creation across the world. When Rayne took the seat, he felt the raw Magic of Odin coursing through his blood. Bolts of lightning filled the night sky. The First-Born Great Angel's face appeared in the swirling clouds—his eyes blazing fire, a golden helmet studded with jewels upon his brow; armour of silver and gold plates across the chest—a huge form over twenty times the size of any Giant, along with many other Great Angels, both male and female. Tanriel with wings of light. Golden axe of Dis Pater. Crimson Hellfire Spear raised in the right fist of Math Mathonwy. Druantia's flowing emerald gown. Eyes that gleamed like white fire. Llew Llaw Gyffes was there. Fodla, Eriu and Epona. Dozens more appeared as the clouds swirled in a cataclysmic vortex of force. Winds howled as thunder tore the air like a savage explosion!

The voice of Odin Lightning-Lord echoed through the air, as the First Born proclaimed to Rayne and the Children, 'You have done well, my Children. You have passed the test of courage and strength. I see that you, Rayne Dragon-Sword, wield the Sword of Valour. I sense that it is fitting for your purpose. It will contain a great portion of the might of the Great Angels.

'Hold your sword aloft, and you also, my Children. Hold your weapons up to the skies so that we may join with them as the first Resting Points. We know of your desperate quest. We gladly take part in our role, to save Kismeria, and to save the Heavens from the growing Power of Darkness!'

Rayne and the Children did as they were told. Suddenly the Great Angels morphed to become bolts of coloured flame. Lightning struck each of the weapons of the Children, including Rayne's blade. A raging tornado of Angel-Magic flooded his blood and bones. Odin entered the Sword of Valour! Rayne watched in awe as coloured Angel-Energies surged into the weapons of his companions also. Wind howled. Heaven roared!

Chapter 19

A Force of Shadows

When their Resting Points were fully charged with Angel-Spirit, Rayne and the Children unleashed their Battle Angels for a short time. Blasting the foot of the mountainside with Angel-Fire. Vanquishing a large portion of the demon horde gathered there. This gave the Giants and other heroes that had joined their quest a chance to escape back to the forest, where they would be protected by Druantia's Children and the First Wood Kin. This was much to Rayne's relief to know his friends would not perish.

Then it was time to leave. Elarja used the Time Stones, a flare of coloured energies surrounded them in a large sphere, on the ledge where Odin's Seat was positioned. Just below the snow line that capped the peak of the mountain. The Time Sphere bulged with a sound like the fabric of space being torn. Light retracted around them as Rayne's vision became awash with burning white brilliance.

The sphere appeared again. Expanding outwards; then dissipating, to reveal that they were in a totally different place and time. Standing now in a courtyard, of a city that Rayne knew well. It was Valmeron! It was daytime here! Blue sky and white clouds overhead. Sun burning brightly at its noonday peak! At least somewhere in all of time it was not an eternal night. Rayne and his companions breathed a sigh of relief and elation to feel the warm sunlight baking their skin.

Elarja looked troubled. This was not the location and likely not the time he had wished to arrive at. He had hoped to journey directly to Adem Highlander's army in the true present. Everyone guessed it would be endless night there also.

Elarja stopped a tall mortal Aldebrand striding by, to ask what the year was. The confused faced man replied. 'It is the year 611 A.C. I must say, you ask a very unusual question.' With that the Aldebrand strode away, glancing back with a raised brow before vanishing into the crowd.

Rayne suddenly realised why they were here. He grasped another tall muscular warrior by the edge of his cloak to ask, 'Is Lady Isabelle here, in the city?'

The warrior looked at Rayne's face before he replied, 'Yes, Lord Dragon-Sword. Your grandmother is housed in the Royal Guest Quarters of the Palace, as she has done these last ten years. Are you feeling alright, Lord Rayne?'

Rayne did not recognize the man, but the words he gave were a blessing to Rayne's heart: knowing that he was not too late.

***

Isabelle sat at her mirror dresser combing her dark locks into something straighter. Preparing for her maidservants to arrive to braid it into her signature style. Her makeup was still not done, as she was in a depressed state. Missing her son Pendral, although he was becoming madder every-time she laid eyes on him. And her dear grandson, Rayne. With those charming blue eyes, just like his grandfather. Her beloved hero, Adem Highlander. The man she had saved herself for, for so long now that it seemed an eternity! She missed his warm hugs, his dashing smile, and the affectionate pet names he used to call her.

She slammed the brush down against the oak dressing tabletop as a tantrum nearly took hold. Why did her beloved have to stay away for so very long? Why did her son and grandson not visit her more often? She knew how important they were, the responsibilities that weighed so heavily upon their shoulders. But surely, they could spare a little time to see her! She loved all three men more than she could ever put into words.

Suddenly panic struck her as Portal-Magic appeared in the room. Shining wall of light visible in the mirror reflection! Her heart fluttered with joy when her darling Rayne Dragon-Sword stepped through, with Elarja RinHannen close behind!

Isabelle turned on the seat to glide over to her grandson and reach out to grasp his troubled face with both hands. Laying a big kiss on his cheek, she held him tightly in an embrace. 'Rayne, it has been far too long! I missed you terribly. Why have you not visited more often?'

Rayne pulled her back from the embrace, holding her arms tightly as he spoke urgently to say: 'We are taking you away with us, dear grandmother! There is no time to talk, but, know that I will be reuniting you with my grandfather!'

Tears formed in Isabelle's eyes as she spoke the name: 'Adem Highlander?'

'Yes, but you must leave with us now!'

Isabelle watched as a second Portal-Spell flared further back within her chamber. She beamed with happiness to see her darling son Pendral step through!

But his face was changed. He immediately glared at Rayne and Elarja, his face becoming a twisted scowl, mixed with the confused expression that spoke of his growing illness. 'Rayne, my son. What are you doing here?' Pendral spoke with bewilderment, his eyes half crazed as they fell upon her to ask, 'What is the meaning of this, Mother? Why do you meet with Elarja RinHannen in secret? Do you make plans against me?'

Isabelle was about to insist that this was certainly not the case. Elarja reacted suddenly to craft a Portal-Spell that wrapped around both Isabelle and her grandson, that carried the three of them down onto the city courtyard in the bright light of day!

'What is the meaning of this?' Isabelle shouted at Elarja. 'My son was talking to me! I do not see enough of him either. He will be very cross if he believes you are kidnapping me!'

'We are rescuing you, Lady Isabelle,' Elarja said in a tense tone. 'Your son is no longer the man you knew. He has become dangerous beyond containment. Soon he will become the highest-ranking Hex-Warlord to ever live!'

Isabelle slapped the face of the son of the First Nordic King, as she snapped at him, shouting; 'Lies!'

'It is the truth, grandmother,' Rayne said. 'I did not want to believe it, but I have seen the future path my father will take. It is the road to madness and chaos.'

Isabelle watched as many of Rayne's fellow Odin Children gathered about her. A number of them formed a Shield-Dome as Elarja pointed to the sky and shouted: 'Pendral is about to attack!'

A bolt of crimson flame struck the Shield-Spells, burning claws clutching the dome as Elarja began to wield those legendary Time Stones. A flare of light blasting around them in many colours. Isabelle began to scream in a rage of denial! 'My son would _never_ harm me! He is trying to protect me!' But through the translucent sphere Isabelle watched in horror as Pendral's beam of energy spread outwards from the Shield-Dome. Waves of crimson flame frying men and women to vapour and dust in the wake of a madman's wrath!

***

It was of course, a trap! Old Karbul had been surprisingly gentle and quiet at removing a number of those large iron doors. Adem and Jean, Janeanne, Tobin and Lydia along with Carl and their force of close to one hundred Forsaken and other wielders, had made their way down the winding pathways with stealth. The chamber entrance was high above the large spherical crystal that contained the main source of Komputah's power. The journey took some time as they crept through the shadows, trying to remain out of sight of any Witch or Warlock guards on patrol during their descent.

Arawn, Math and Tanriel had taken down any guards in the same manner whenever a dark cloaked figure was spotted along the sloping stone pathways and staircases. They soon found out that Adem and Rayne's earlier conflict in the Dream Realm had resulted in a warning being given. When they reached the bottom level to spring their surprise attack, hundreds of Witches and Warlocks used portals at the last moment. They also stepped into view from behind columns surrounding the crystal. Adem and his warriors were caught in an ambush. Witches and Warlocks leapt from the shadows: hurling thunderbolts from their fists. Adem's small force of warriors, that were caught off guard, formed a defensive perimeter of Shield-Spells. Adem, Jean and Carl shouted the names of their Battle Angels at the same moment that Pendral appeared in a warp of crimson fire. Hovering above the circular paved floor with Balor towering behind him. The Corrupt Battle Angel linking with Pendral as they hurled an attack at Adem and Jean. Janeanne and Adem forming a Shield-Sphere of matter manipulation as bolts of crimson gripped the dome like the Devil's Claw!

Arawn, Math Mathonwy and Tanriel appeared in the air surrounding Pendral and Balor. The Battle Angels hurling torrents of magical energies at the two enemy leaders in blazing bars. Pendral's and Balor's Shield-Spheres held firm, as Balor seemed to be drawing bolts of blue Elemental Magic out of the crystal sphere. Adem realised then that the Battle Angel intended to drain the crystal, effectively destroying it, but Angel-Magic would be Balor's to use. Making him invincible against the other Battle Angels in their diminished state.

Pendral seemed to realise Balor's intent, and the High-Servant stood shouting at Balor as he grew in size, swelling with Elemental Magic that coursed through his Angel Spirit.

Adem and Janeanne formed Golden Warriors in a ring around the defenders. Adem's firing laser cannons as Janeanne's hacked down nearby Warlocks with blades of burning light! Adem hated to see his daughter being responsible for the death of so many humans, but he knew the situation was desperate. He had temporarily also forsaken his own caution for his soul. Lasers cutting through the Shield-Spheres of Witches and Warlocks to slice bodies in two halves. It was a shocking horror to witness, even knowing they were evil. It was either kill or be killed!

He saw proof of his theory about Balor. The Battle Angel's form became immense as Angel-Magic flowed into him. Soon he stood as a twenty-feet-tall figure. Horned metallic mask of a demon. Wings burning like pure gold, surrounded by glowing aqua flame. Pauldrons became the face of a golden eagle, and the head of a wolf of shadows. Eyes burning crimson with the corruption of the High-Jinn!

Adem turned the laser cannons upon the crystal sphere. Destroying it was the only hope that Balor's Elemental Might did not increase any further! Forsaken took to battling the Witches and Warlocks. Firing Jinn-Spells from beyond the Shield-Domes. Even Jean was involved in the slaughter. Adem was loath to imagine what that might mean for her judgement day.

Tobin and Lydia added Pixie Wardens and Emerald Lions to the bloodshed. Lions tearing through flesh and bone. Pixies causing Witch and Warlock bodies to explode on impact. Elemental Magic blasted through their Shield-Spheres to burst skulls like crushed grapes.

Janeanne sent her own Golden Soldiers charging up to surround the sphere: driving their glowing blades into the crystal. Energy surged within. Pools of blazing fire spreading from each point. Arawn, Math and Tanriel joined with them in this task—and suddenly Gwydion appeared, then Dis Pater, Druantia, Tamigol and Kohbahl, along with the new Battle Angel, Enserah: hurling Elemental Magic with vehemence. Joined in a Link, as Adem sensed that Wil and Hayley were now at the top of the chamber!—as the sphere began to glow white hot, the lasers melting through the crystal until it ruptured. Cracked. Roared. The crystal exploded with a raging force! Fragments flew throughout the chamber in glowing hot sparks.

Moments after the blast—that had damaged the roof and walls of the massive stone chamber, to the point that large cracks were now running through its surfaces—a large Portal-Spell opened. Wil and Hayley charged through with Forsaken and other warriors on horseback! Shaye Eagle-Soul was there also, along with his friends Ellagon and Ragan riding by his side. The reinforcements lashed out at the remaining Witches and Warlocks with Jinn-Magic but also Angel-Magic. _Teron_ and _terael_ now seeming to be fully restored!

Pendral vanished in a warp of air. Face twisted with outrage. His Shield-Spell had withheld any damage from the exploding sphere. Adem and his warriors had nearly been knocked off their feet from the blast despite their Shield-Domes holding! Balor roared with outrage. The Corrupt Angel launched into the air on his golden wings. Soaring up into the shadows to morph through the stone ceiling of the chamber. Arawn, Math, Tanriel, and Dis Pater flew up through the shadows in pursuit.

Shaye then linked with Carl—messages transferred by each of their Battle Angels to arrange the tactic—and a glowing Portal-Spell simply closed down on the entire gathering of warriors in the chamber. Witches and Warlocks staring in wonder before Adem and his companions escaped. Just as the roof began to collapse.

***

Dis Pater soared up through the caverns of the underground ruins, pursuing his Corrupt Brother. Balor struck at Dis Pater with bolts of Elemental Magic. A combination of the raw _ki'mera_ of stolen Angel-Magic, mixed with Jinn-Magic of his new Master.

Beside Dis Pater; Tanriel, Math Mathonwy and Arawn also flew up through the tunnels and caverns of stone. Each of them firing blasts of their own forms of Angel-Magic. Returned to them to a degree that they could at least intimidate the larger Battle Angel, if not defeat him.

Finally, they emerged through a circular slab of paved stones—after Dis Pater, Tanriel and Arawn had overtaken Balor with a burst of speed to the surface. Math Mathonwy grasped Balor by the boot, holding his heel to drag him back through the stone, each time Balor tried to break free—with ruins of the ancient city of Rolimbtorel rising in the distance. Watch towers and other stone buildings shining in the light of the full moon.

Balor rose from the stone. Pools of magma bubbling through the paving as his massive form heaved to break free of Math's grip. Tanriel threw a Flame Spear that erupted in sheets of orange flame. Surrounding Balor as Dis Pater flowed forwards. Golden axe gripped for an attack. Arawn circled round the back of Balor. Arawn and Dis Pater striking with waves of Underworld Flame. Balor roared with rage, but the attack did not seem to cause him any harm!

The next moment Dis Pater saw Balor's massive fist crushing down upon his form. Dis Pater actually felt _bones_ break! It was a sure sign of the fact that he had become almost mortal. It seemed now that he was even able to die.

As his spirit descended into the pits of Hellfire, Dis Pater was reminded of the fact that he had always been an Angel of the Underworld. He could never hope for a fate better than this one. He heard the voice of Jinn-Fendinn as he fell. _DIS PATER, YOUR SOUL IS MINE!_

***

When Arawn witnessed the death of his Brother, Dis Pater, he realised there was no stopping Balor. Stolen _ki'mera_ of Komputah's power source had created a monster, with powers far beyond their control. At that moment, Arawn, Tanriel and Math Mathonwy fled on wings of flame. Swooping over the landscape of ruins to return to Adem Highlander, Jean Fairsythe and Carl Wilder.

But the Sons and Daughter were not finished with their service. They were commanded to finish this demon army. Wil Martyr and his wife Hayley were unleashing their Battle Angels against the demon horde to the south. Gwydion releasing thousands of Pixie Wardens that punched through demon chests, caused skulls to explode in fire and ash. Druantia added her Green Men and Tree Wardens to the massacre. Giant sentinels of wood and vines stomping demons into dust. Trees bored like moles through the underground, reaching up with gaping wooden maws to devour demons in savage gulps.

The Battle Angel Enserah was wielding white lightning on the southern battlefield, blasting Souljhin and Jacoulra in pillars of flame. Kohbahl and Tamigol joined their Battle Angel Link, as waves of flame and coloured lightning bolts blasted the enemies into vapour, congealed flesh and burning bone ash. The battle there was nearly done!

Arawn, Math and Tanriel focused their Power on the northern horde. Joining the Battle Angel Link with those on the northern field. A raging tornado reaching down from a grey vortex in the sky, bolts of lightning striking the northern field burning amber, aqua, emerald, crimson and mauve. Angel-Magic was returning to the world via the destruction of the crystal sphere. The result was Angels wreaking destruction upon the demons below.

Arawn swooped upon the northern field. Sword hacking wildly with Math watching his back. Blade and Hellfire Spear unleashing torrents of Shadow Flame twenty ranks deep. Burning Boli-Kuldr flesh to congealed masses. Nymloc and Jacoulra bursting into glowing hot ashes. Slicing through the closest ranks with speed and ease—Arawn's Lions and Math's Hounds charging through the ranks to shred through bone and chomp demon flesh in dark sprays of blood—as thousands fell in their wake. Rage over his Brother's death ate away at Arawn's ancient soul. He wished to wreak vengeance upon all servants of evil. Yet when he saw Balor's golden wings circling in the dark night sky, Arawn was truly afraid!

***

Adem watched as Balor swooped from the sky to crash against the large Shield-Dome thrown up by a link between hundreds of Forsaken Alit'aren and Ael Tarael. Fortified by Adem and Janeanne's Matter-Manipulation-Shields. The Battle Angel slammed his fist against the translucent glowing surface. Cracks immediately began to spread through the dome. Adem could see the Shield-Spells would not hold!

He formed Golden Soldiers surrounding the Shield-Dome: firing laser cannons at Balor's massive form. The lasers seemed incapable of causing him any damage. The Corrupt Angel continuing to bash at the dome with vehement rage!

A flare of crimson appeared higher above Balor, and Adem saw that it was Pendral! The next moment over a dozen dark robed figures appeared in the sky. High-Servants and Hex-Keepers!

Adem was about to give up hope, as beams of light flew from the fists of the hovering dark robed figures. Then ... the blasts froze, before hitting the fields of warriors below. A sphere of coloured light blazed within the dome close by Adem's horse. He realised at that moment also that time had been frozen completely. Except Jean and Carl were awake and able to move. They gazed around in awe before their eyes fell upon Elarja RinHannen, standing in a circle of warrior men and women—and Adem immediately sensed the presence of immense forms of Angel-Magic radiating from their glowing weapons—but he also saw his grandson there, along with a woman he thought he would never see again. It was Isabelle! She was _alive!_

Rayne Dragon-Sword drew his blade and aimed it at the sky. A bolt of brilliant blue light shot forth from the weapon to light up the night sky. Flares of colour and a roar of thunder in frozen time. The other warriors in Rayne's company did the same. Thunderbolts of colour flew upwards from their weapons. Adem sensed the Elemental Magic of the world increase a hundredfold!

Time slowly returned, and Adem looked to the skies to see a massive glowing shadow wielding an axe of amber fire. He realised then that this was Dis Pater, only much larger and more powerful. Evidently released from a Resting Point of one of Rayne's warrior companions. The enormous Battle Angel swooped to boot Balor flying into the distance!

Odin appeared in the sky! Eyes of white flame with a flowing beard of glowing frost. Golden winged helmet and armour of crimson and emerald. The First Born was immense in the night sky. Bolts of blue flame rained down upon the demon fields. True Bolt-Rain, as thunder roared and over a thousand blazing blue bolts of burning bright lightning filled the sky in a cosmic electric glow. Dozens of bolts striking Pendral, and the other High-Servants and Generals hovering in the sky—their blasts of the Jinn deflected by Angel-Shields, saving the lives of hundreds of warriors—and these enemies quickly fled in warps of crimson flame! They were saved! Adem knew that if Rayne had not arrived at this moment, they would have surely been annihilated by such a force.

Adem sensed and saw the size and might of their own Battle Angels increase dramatically. Every Angel that had fought on the northern and southern field became at least ten times their former size. Appearing in the sky alongside Odin Lightning-Lord; their Elemental Magic blasted the enemy fields in bolts of coloured flame. Shadow Hounds, Fire Lions, Flame Crows and Pixie Wardens appeared by the thousands. Taking down demons in blazes of light, explosions and eruptions that blasted, melted, incinerated flesh and bone into dust, slag, ashes and vapour. Adem's forces roared with a hope of victory!

Adem was desperate to leap from the saddle to rush to Isabelle's side. He saw her earnest glee at their reunion, knowing the time for her had been infinitely longer. He saw Jean's scowl of disapproval, and so he waited just a little longer. Then dread filled his heart as another dark shadow appeared in the night sky. A cloaked figure that bent down over the warriors to reveal a skull of pure white bone beneath the cowl. Eyes of burning crimson-gold. It was the Angel of Death!

Calliach raised a white bone claw, pointing a finger down at both Rayne and Isabelle. 'Rayne Dragon-Sword made me a deal! His quest is now completed, and so his soul must return to the realm of spirits. This woman should never have been brought back from her fated death. So, she shall return to death also. My Power is now restored to that of the days of Old Magic. There are none who can oppose me now. It is done!' In that moment, Adem shouted in terror as he watched his grandson and his dearly beloved fall down as if their souls had been ripped free from living flesh! His cry was just a scream of pain and anguish, but in his mind, he screamed the words: _Isabelle! No! I can't lose you again!_

***

Jean felt real pain to see her biggest competitor put down by the Angel of Death. Despite the tension that had always been between them, it still didn't seem right, or fair at all! She felt terrible anguish brewing in Adem's heart and soul. Darkness and fire returning. Shadows creeping in. The threat of madness taking hold once more. She hoped there was something she could do to restore his faith, his courage, and his will to live. Right now, that seemed a hopeless dream.

Then suddenly she had an idea, as she turned to Orion to ask, 'Are the Heroes of the Harp ready to return to battle, Lord General?'

Orion appeared just as shocked by the scene they had just witnessed. Everything had happened so fast. Lightning continued to hail upon the fields of demons. The Battle Angels would handle this without need of the Heroes of Will. Then, as if Orion understood, with a raised dark brow he replied, 'Yes. They are ready, Daughter of Thor.' He then plucked three strings of the Harp, after lifting the sacred relic out of the leather sack tied to his saddle. A rupture of space sounded out at each strum. Vibrations like the wail of ancient ghosts filled the air. Raw magic could be sensed in their natural environment. Limestone, calcium, copper and rust. Earth, water, ashes and dust. A hallowing horn sounded! Blankets of fog flowed across the fields, surrounding Jean and all those that stood around her. Thunder roared enough to make a corpse writhe. The fog billowing to the north and south, forming tunnels at each end. Heroes of Will charged onto the fields, flowing out of the tunnels of fog like Wraith Riders. This time not only two hundred riders, but closer to five hundred. Horses of pale moonlight and glimmering shadows appeared close to Adem and Jean's horse. Then Jean understood why.

Before them was Jothar Kelderath. Armoured in gold on a starlight horse. Beside him was Kenen, who had died to save Jean's life. Also, young Ron, and dear darling Del! The two Seidr'tera had been murdered by High-Servants, while trying to protect Isabelle, a thousand years before. It seemed the return of the Old Ways had allowed the Great Cycle to choose more Heroes of Will. Some that she knew, others that were only known to legend. She smiled gladly when her eyes fell upon Rayne Dragon-Sword, riding a stallion dark as shadows, resplendent in aqua cuirass and pauldrons over tightly bound starlight garments. Beside him rode Isabelle the Ruhalden Princess. She looked glorious in dark-emerald armour and a golden tiara set with shining diamonds. Moonlight Lukrorian Bow rising from her Aldebrand cloak. Jean looked to where Rayne and Isabelle had fallen, to see now only piles of burning ash. The Harp had summoned them back from the dead. They were Heroes of Will. Her plan had worked! Though pain scorched Adem once more. She wished again there was more she could do.

'Do not despair, Adem Highlander, dearly beloved,' Isabelle said in a surprisingly cool calm tone. 'I serve a greater purpose now. I shall be your sword and shield when evil threatens. It is pleasing to me, to now be one who holds such limitless power.'

Jean saw tears forming in Adem's eyes as Rayne Dragon-Sword spoke, 'Death made me a deal grandfather. Now I have paid that debt. I am sorry I could not return my grandmother to be by your side. I know how truly special she was to you.'

Jean suddenly felt a stab of jealousy returning. 'Yes, yes, there will be time for talk later! You are Heroes of Will now. Show us your strength upon the battlefield, so that you may make a name for yourselves, amongst those that have fought for the All-Father a thousand times over.'

Isabelle grinned at those words, before she replied, 'But we are your personal bodyguards, Lady Jean. Those you see here will be with you until the end. We shall not let the enemy harm a single hair upon your heads.'

Jean saw the truth of those words when Terese and Arig approached on horses of shadows. Emanating magic of the Harp like silver lined clouds.

'That is very reassuring,' Jean said with a smile of embarrassment. 'Let's clean up this mess. I hope to God daylight returns when we do!'

***

Adem watched as Odin and the other Battle Angels changed tactics. Odin hurling down massive spears that gleamed like burning crystal. As each spear impacted with earth, domes of white fire ruptured within the demon ranks. Frying flesh to cinders as other Angels caused the earth to erupt in waves of blistering Angel-Fire and exploding stone. Vanquishing the better part of the northern horde with ease.

Tanriel added her Flame Spears to the massacre. Sheets of bright orange flame blasting from the weapons as they planted their tips in the earth. Incinerating demon flesh and bone. Turning bodies to congealed corpses or glowing ash floating on the breeze.

Green Men thudded their wooden heels to hammer demons into the earth. Shadow Hounds the size of Demonwolves charged through the enemy ranks, tearing down Jacoulra and Boli-Kuldr with enormous Fire Lions at their side. Shredding flesh and bone in spatters of dark blood!

The Heroes of Will morphed between the lightning and fire, hacking down Nymloc and Souljhin riders with glowing steel and arrows of flame, or blasts of Elemental Magic unleashed from enchanted spears that spoke of the return of the Old Ways. Ancient might of Battle Angels fuelling their force. They brought the spirits of animals with them also. Stags, bears, cougars and lions of burning light. Tigers, even elephants stomping demon skulls charged the flanks of the northern horde—with hawks, falcons and eagles of burning light diving from the skies to punch through demon skulls in explosions of blood and flames—it was another sign of the Great Angel Magic that was resonating and emanating in flickering pulses. Cosmic blasts of energy tearing through the heavens!

Arawn, Math, Dis Pater and Llew Llaw Gyffes, returned to sizes more familiar to Adem. Compacting their Old Ways might into smaller forms, they swooped down upon the northern horde on wings of flame and shadows. Arawn hacked through skulls and torsos with his seven feet long crimson blade. Cleaving bodies down the centre, slicing off limbs in a furious frenzy. Hellfire launched from the weapon: burning deeper ranks into ashes.

Math had Arawn's back, unleashing waves of Hellfire as Shadow Hounds launched from his form. Tearing down demons with vehement rage. Dis Pater hacked through flesh and bone in dark sprays, Llew guarding his back. His amethyst blade was the largest of the four, cutting demon ranks in half as blasts of violet flame vanquished hundreds more. Incinerating the enemy twenty ranks deep.

The Vikings could not resist such an opportunity, and soon they were charging alongside the Heroes of Will, with the Hardark Rohn mortals close behind. Thunder of hooves filled the air as the brave warriors roared with bloodlust, hacking and slaying with ferocity close to madness, but it was the frenzied glory of imminent victory that drove them into such a state.

The Forsaken and other wielders on foot on the front lines—as well as the Dark Elf Archers and other Aldebrands and Lukrorian Bow wielders—began to harness Angel-Magic, now fully restored. It was a way to avoid the terrible effects of the Jinn. A form of magic that would eventually drive them mad, but for now it was like bathing in ice and fire. Washing and burning away the impurities of the Jinn's vile corruption.

The result was a mass of wielders revelling in the glory of _teron_ and _terael_ , as they unleashed blasts of coloured flame and bolts of lightning from their fists. Striking down the front ranks that remained of the northern horde. Sending waves of inferno into deeper ranks as crazed demons scrambled in terror to escape the onslaught. Some added lightning bolts from the skies to mix with the thousands of Angel-Bolts that fell like burning swords. Blasting Fists of Boli-Kuldr and other large demons by the dozen with every strike. Bodies were ripped apart by Angel-Magic. Fire erupted from their flesh as bodies collapsed, skulls exploding with flames blasting from eye sockets. Nymloc and Jacoulra reduced to burning ashes; raging conflagrations swept over their forms like wraiths of flame.

Adem and Jean gave some assistance on the southern field. Adem summoning Golden Soldiers to slice through Rahkwel and Nymloc with red laser beams thick as his wrist. Bodies bursting in dark sprays as torsos were cut in half, limbs and skulls flying in the wake of his destruction. Jean was harnessing _terael_ to unleash waves of Angel-Magic in blazing sheets that incinerated flesh and bone. Rahkwel armour to melted to slag; bodies bursting into glowing dust.

Carl and Janeanne added Warrior Priests—ten feet tall Spirit Wardens of crimson flame, wielding burning spears with the Holy Cross blazing at the tip—and more Golden Samurai, hacking through demons with blazing laser blades.

Orion and Elmira focused their Golden Tigers and Flame Leopards on the northern ranks, while Tobin and Lydia unleashed more Emerald Lions and Pixie Wardens to join the killing fields. Tigers and Lions biting off skulls and chomping through innards with horrid gulps. Pushing goblins to the ground to rip off an arm or tear out their throats. Pixies punching through breastplates to burn holes right through the enemy. They fell to their knees; amber eyes glaring in shocked agony.

Suddenly there was a gleam of light on the horizon—Hayley forming Portal-Magic for her vampires to leap through, taking them to a darkened forest by the look of it—as the sun began to rise. As if driven to catch up on lost time. First a golden ball amidst crimson rays forming a line through the darkness. Then the sun rose higher as the first light of a new day fell onto the fields. The demon army began to scatter, fleeing northward in hope of reaching a Travelling Gate before the sun fried Nymloc and Jacoulra flesh to ash. Boli-Kuldr running dazed from the glare of the sunlight in their eyes.

The Battle Angels continued to harry the demon army as they fled, both to the north and what remained of the Rahkwel hordes to the southeast. Adem was certain they had won this battle. It was nearly time to go home.

But something else happened that both terrified Adem and also filled him with hope. When he turned to face Orion; he saw that the former King was holding two halves of the now broken Harp. Some incredible force of the Battle Angel presence resulting in the destruction of the sacred relic!

Yet the Heroes of Will did not vanish into thin air. Instead they became more solid. Glimmer of ghostly powers beginning to fade, as the two columns of riders from the north and south side gathered together before Adem and his friends. He realised then that the Heroes had become flesh and blood!

He looked to Isabelle to see her eyes shining with delight. Looking so fragile and innocent she reminded him of when they first met, although the woman was so much older now, and likely so much wiser. He would have to be careful how he reacted, though he knew Jean sensed the joy swelling in his heart. He felt her jealousy rise in response.

Then the shadow of Calliach appeared in the morning sky, as the Angel of Death spoke the words, 'I may have spoken too soon, Rayne Dragon-Sword. It seems there is still one who can oppose my will, and that is Lord Odin.

'Odin has granted the Heroes of the Harp another chance to live. Our bargain is now paid in full. I will no longer interfere.

'Yet know this, Rayne Dragon-Sword, if in the next time you die, Elarja RinHannen snatches you back from the grave, I will return you there swiftly. There will be no further bargains. You will have nowhere to hide.' The words were spoken as an explicit promise.

Calliach spoke again to say: 'You know the doom your life will bring to Kismeria, Rayne Dragon-Sword, for you have foreseen it. Yet Odin has decided to bring you back for reasons I cannot understand. Perhaps the only reason is so that this woman,' and Death pointed at Isabelle, 'could return to flesh and bone to be beside her lover. I know of the darkness that grows in the heart of Adem Highlander, yet he must not fail us.'

The other Battle Angels had already returned to their Resting Points. Adem also sensed their raw forms of Angel-Magic returning to the earth, sea, sky and forests of the lands. The Old Ways were returning. The enemy had reasons to be fearful.

Adem summoned Shienden to come down out of the clouds and reveal himself once more. It was time to start a party!

But Hayley Martyr had more urgent business, and so their forces prepared for another battle, to save her Martyr Coven.

Chapter 20

Betrayal

The demon army had fled when Hayley and Highlander's forces arrived at the Hive, leaping there by large Portal-Spells. The city was burning in many places. She began to fear the worst. Fears confirmed by one of her still faithful Coven werewolves, that her Vampire General, Larg Keledren, had betrayed them!

Larg had secretly held control over a large portion of her entire Coven, and when Hayley left the city, Larg tried to open the gates to allow the demons to enter the Hive. Her remaining faithful Coven warriors had stormed the inner gates and taken control of that side of the city, along with defenders on the smaller gates to prevent Larg from further betrayal.

Yet her trusted Coven General had then set the city aflame, trying to burn her faithful followers into ashes. Without Angel-Magic and without sufficient rest even the vampire wielders had difficulty containing the spread of fires. Many had died, trapped in buildings where the flames spread too quickly, for without human blood vampires could not fly either.

This resulted in the loss of many faithful Coven warriors. Most of her Vampire Guard had died storming the gates to defeat those working for Larg. Her Martyr Coven of tens of thousands had been reduced to less than five hundred. As well as just over a thousand survivors of the recent battle, that remained hidden in the Oak Wood, and perhaps one hundred and fifty werewolves. Jinn-Fendinn had cut down a major hope of winning at the Ragnarök Battle. Hayley began to fume with vitriol, wishing General Larg's neck was being crushed between her fingers.

Larg and his followers had fled during the long-lasting darkness, perhaps flying to the East Lands, or the Southlands if they had taken human victims—Druantia and the other Angels could not track people long distance unless they were joined to them via the _kigare_ —or else they might have had assistance from a High-Servant to flee through the nearby Travelling Gate.

Whatever the case, Larg had demolished the army she had worked for a thousand years to build. She felt even greater sorrow as she pictured the faces of so many friends that had perished in these fires, likely now judged by the Lord and sent to the Underworld. Hayley had hoped she could one day release them of their curse, in the hope of assuring their salvation.

***

Adem stood gazing at the burning walls and buildings of the Hive, or former Nordhel, when Isabelle pushed up beside him. Her dark eyes gleaming before she held him in a tight embrace, her lips pressing against his own. Adem knew Jean was watching with scorn, though he did not pull away. He was too caught up in the joy of having Isabelle back. He felt her kiss telling him how long she had waited for his return, the only other woman he had ever truly loved.

But he broke away when he heard music all around. He opened his eyes to see many of the female Battle Angels gathered in the skies, surrounding Jean who stood holding her pale mare by the reins. Her face a mask of calm control, as the Daughter of Thor began to sing in a beautiful voice that was enhanced and backed up by her Battle Angels with a cool melodic rhythm.

'Adem Highlander, you are so bold,

The greatest story to ever be told,'

'Your eyes are blue; your hair is brown,

The people of Kismeria should give you a crown,'

'I love you with all my heart and soul,

My love for you will never grow old,'

'You fight the Shadow with lightning and fire,

You are my hero, my heart's true desire,'

The rhythm and feel of the music changed with her tone, as her face turned very sad, and she sang,

'But you stone me, with your ever-changing words,

I try to see the sense of it but then you make it hurt,'

'You keep telling me that we are meant to be forever,

But I can't even understand why we are still together,'

'I don't know of any other way that I can even try,

Because each time I want the truth, all you do is lie,

And so, begins the time when I am telling you goodbye,'

'And if one day you come to me and say we should be friends,

And that you're now so different and you'll try to make amends,'

'I will look at you and ask you slowly 'Why?'

And I know your answer will only make me cry,'

'I'm sure you still believe there is a chance to love each other,

But in the case of Isabelle, there will always be another,

_And what just makes it worse for me; is that she's Pendral's_ mother! _'_

The music and colours in the sky ended in the crescendo of her fury, and Adem felt truly sorry for his actions. He watched Jean walking away; calling over her shoulder, 'I'll be at Red River!'

'Do you think you'll be safe?' Adem asked, knowing it was not a time to immediately follow. He had seen these kinds of temper tantrums before, and this was the worst yet.

Jean kept walking as she shouted, 'I have Tanriel!' A beam of pure energy flowed into her Lukrorian Bow as she continued on, and she turned back to add, 'And Anwen now too! And my daughter! Janeanne, we're leaving!'

Adem watched as Janeanne followed leading her own horse on foot. Lydia and Elmira began to follow on horseback, glancing back to draw their husbands in tow. He wanted to follow, but he sent a large force of warriors to join them instead. A large Portal-Spell opened via Carl and Shaye's link. He did not believe this was going to end well.

Kenen, Kelderath, Ron and Del followed quickly after, as well as Terese, of course, but seeing Arig Flame-Bow join them hurt Adem the most!

Isabelle beamed at him before she whispered, 'Let it be, my darling one.'

Adem sighed before he responded with: 'She is my wife, Isabelle. Jean is my _wife._ '

Isabelle's face turned cold with dread, as she gazed up at him in puzzlement and asked, 'You married the Daughter of Thor?' Adem could only nod, moments before her soft little hand slapped his face, hard! Turning on her heel, Isabelle followed the procession led by Jean. Evidently, Isabelle was now taking Jean's side!

_So_ , Adem realised, _this is how it is going to be._

_Shienden, follow them. Make sure they are not harmed!_ The great dragon roared as it returned to the skies. The portal was not large enough for him anyway, so Shienden would take the long way home. But the dragon would scout for Adem along the way; sending warning if there was any threat approaching Red River before Adem returned.

Before she stepped into the Portal-Magic Jean shouted the name: 'Tarz!' And her High Lord General stepped into line with a large host of his Forsaken warriors close behind. Evidently Adem was losing friends fast.

***

Carl was in no way amused by the scene he had just witnessed. The conflict between Adem and Jean felt acutely by Carl due to their _kigare_ link. The time had come to attempt Healing-Magic on Adem's terrible scar however, and so, with a number of tents being pitched on the fields surrounding Old Nordhel, Carl prepared to work a little magic to try to save his friend.

It was possible now that Angel-Magic was restored. He could create the necessary Angel-Magic to at least make the attempt, and with Math Mathonwy's surge in Old Ways Magic, he thought it might be possible to undo what Pendral had created with Jinn-Fendinn's Power.

He worked long into the night as Adem rested, with Wil and Hayley seated in the tent, watching over him with concerned expressions the entire day and night. Adem's eyes flickered now and then, but mostly he slept while Carl worked flows of _teron_ through his flesh and spirit. Trying to identify a method of removing the scar and its debilitating capacities.

He did not succeed. Close to early morning he decided that he too must rest, so he made his way to a pallet with blankets at the far corner of the tent. His attempts to fall asleep quickly were delayed by his troubled mind, a growing fear that Adem's scar may be something that even Carl could never cure completely.

Carl had bought his friend some time, however. Time to live, and to consider new ways of dealing with a curse that was so draining and so deadly. When sleep finally came, Carl experienced a repeated nightmare of standing and looking over Adem's grave, saying prayers and weeping at the loss of his closest friend. That friendship forged on a night of evil terrors, when Adem had reminded Carl to be strong in the Light. A night so long ago; at Bright.

***

Elarja listened to a number of Heroes of Will, and several mortal and immortal warriors that had lived as wielders for the past seven hundred years or more. They related a tale that brought the word 'tragedy' to Elarja's mind.

The Heroes related what they could remember of Elarja's brother Lenk. During the centuries following the ancient past, after Elarja had told Lord Tallamon to give the Nordic throne to Allon, who was not next in line by right of birth. The result was Lenk turned savage, and eventually wicked, becoming the first of the High-Servants. Remaining in the shadows whenever possible, though the Heroes related terrible tales of his nasty work, including the assassination of all of Elarja's remaining brothers, yet the Nordics that survived his demon attacks would never hand over the crown to Lenk the Betrayer.

Elarja soon learnt from the warriors of this Age that Lenk was believed to still be alive, serving second in command to Pendral. It was a devastating and irreparable result of Elarja's meddling with the timelines. He realised then that he would one day have to face his brother and kill him for his treachery.

Rescuing Isabelle had resulted in Pendral turning to the Shadow much sooner, after he levelled Rayne's home city of Valmeron to the ground, turning it to rubble and ash. Tens of thousands of men, women and children were slaughtered to satisfy Pendral's feelings of betrayal. This was yet another tragedy for which the blame was clearly attributable to Elarja and the Time Stones.

Rayne's absence from the battle where Pendral would have murdered his son, resulted in even greater slaughter of a vast Army of the All-Father. The fact that Rayne's friends, Shaye, Ellagon and Ragan had survived that bloodbath was testament to the resilience of Children of Odin. Many more of their kind had perished at that battle that reportedly very quickly became a massacre, without Rayne and Tohka Reiden to defend the people from Pendral's wrath.

This new knowledge formed a schism in Elarja's mind. His former self began to remember this new history, as he had learnt it when travelling to the past prior to the past being altered. This was always a rough ride for the mind. Visions clashed between what had been, and what now was. Elarja knew that this split of consciousness would be infecting the entire world to a degree. It was what Adem Highlander so often referred to as a horrific mind muddle! It was further evidence of the Rift growing in space and time, via Jinn-Magic on _teron_ infecting Elarja and the Time Stones.

There was one reason to be relieved however, if only for Elarja's sake. His father, the First Nordic King; was now released from the Harp of Odin. He was able to move about as a being of flesh and bone once more. This was appeasing to the pain Elarja had felt to watch his father die a second time. He considered then that it may be necessary for Rodin Cloud-Walker to wreak vengeance upon his son, Lenk the Betrayer. Elarja was not certain he was up to the task on his own.

***

Adem woke in the middle of the day to find Elarja RinHannen and his father Rodin Cloud-Walker standing at his bedside. Carl, Wil and Hayley were seated along the tent walls looking up at him cheerfully when he managed to sit upright. The scar was still giving him pain, and he felt drained of energy, although he guessed he had slept the better part of two days.

Elarja and Rodin detailed the events that had been altered in the timelines as a result of Elarja's most recent mission. Adem weighed up the cost with the benefits as if they were apples and oranges being traded at the market. The losses were in some cases extreme, yet if every life lost could be considered a sacrifice for the battle they had just won, it still seemed worth it somehow. The main reason he could believe this was that he was quite certain Elarja and Rayne had saved them from the possibility of time ending completely.

The return of Old Ways Magic had apparently broken Jinn-Fendinn's grip on the cycle of days and nights. Komputah's power source was also destroyed, giving Angel-Magic of _teron_ and _terael_ back to the wielders of Kismeria.

Carl later explained that he was unable to remove the scar Pendral had given Adem, though his friend insisted that, 'It will work in your favour now, sometimes. You will sense when Pendral is close. In time you will learn to use the scar to drain Pendral of physical strength, and in that way the negatives have been reversed. But there will be times when Pendral can use it against you. I fear, if we cannot remove it completely, the debilitating nature of your scar could become fatal.'

Adem tried to pretend it did not matter, but his old fear of facing eternal damnation chewed holes through his heart. A darkness of despair upon his psyche. He was not afraid to die, but he did not want to return to Hell.

As he lay back against the pillows supporting his back and shoulders, Adem listened to the terrible tale told in parts by both Wil and Hayley, of the fate of their daughter Enserah, resulting in her now being one of their shared Battle Angels. Adem did not know how to relate his feelings of compassion for their loss. He had no words, other than to say: 'I'm sorry for you both. Truly I am. I'm so sorry.'

Adem noted the darkness in Wil's eyes, but burning in his heart and soul also via the _kigare_. The madness was getting to him too, and the loss of Enserah had to be the main cause. Finally, Wil spoke the words, 'I hope you know, Adem, if the chance is mine, I will kill your son for what he has done to us. I will murder Pendral!'

Adem stared wide eyed at his friend as he replied, 'I will too. I promise.'

***

Jean began the preparations for Adem's return as soon as they arrived at Red River. A party to celebrate their victory, but also a second surprise birthday party for their daughter—hopefully one that was not invaded by Boli-Kuldr—as Jean knew this was just as her husband would have wanted things to be for his arrival. A scene of peace and happiness, joy and harmony to cherish a moment without conflict before they faced the next great confrontation thrown their way.

It seemed Jean could not escape her new shadow, however. Isabelle had become her doting doe eyed servant, though the Hero of Will insisted she was still Jean's personal bodyguard. She seemed to be taking this role even more seriously than Terese Sapphire-Sword of late!

Something had changed in the woman. Jean guessed it was the knowledge that Jean and Adem were married. Apparently, those were grounds that Isabelle was not willing to cross, and so her days of interfering were at an end, for now at least.

Every time Jean looked over her shoulder, she saw Isabelle standing there, smiling at her warmly. A paradox of eternal youthful personality mixed with the wisdom and depth of a ghost made flesh. She would be stronger now too, Angel-Magic of a Hero flowed through her veins. Plus, the fact that she was immortal blood, and for those reasons Jean was unsure whether she should be relieved or perhaps a little nervous.

Janeanne was more than happy to remain under the careful watch of Orion and Elmira, Tobin and Lydia, which was a blessing to Jean's heart to know that her daughter had been raised by such wise and noble beings. She was certain some of their sense of honour and duty would have rubbed off on Janeanne. Just thinking of all the years Jean had missed out on, watching her daughter grow from a child into a woman, was heartbreaking! She wished more than anything that she could reverse time and be there to raise her daughter, as any mother would always want.

She did not want to cause more schisms and ripples in the already frayed timelines, however. She would leave such disastrous scheming in the hands of Elarja and whatever fool men decided to listen to his dreams. Those relayed memories via the Rift were playing their part in Jean's mind also. Visions of what was, played over what had been, memories that were real, but it was a blending of virtually two dimensions. Multiple timelines colliding as a result of Elarja's incessant meddling with fate.

The Time Strider had provided her a victory this time however, and she would surely feel obliged to thank him for it. When the _time_ was right.

***

Adem arrived at Red River with his grandson, Rayne, walking at his side. They emerged from Portal-Magic created by Carl and Shaye, linked with a number of Forsaken Alit'aren to make it large enough for their forces to pass through quickly. The village was a scene of mayhem, as Nordic and Torvellen men and women rushed to-and-fro, laying cloths on long tables lined end-to-end on the village green. Rolling barrels of wine or ale. Polishing glass mugs or goblets to set at every seat. Sunlight beginning to fade, the glow of coloured lanterns bringing a sense of warm joy to his heart.

He placed Rayne on his right side at the head of the table, with Jean and Janeanne to his left. Wil and Hayley sat alongside Rayne's lover, Rievenna, who sat beside Rayne to his right, Carl and Elarja further along, with Isabelle, Terese and Arig beside Janeanne, leaving just enough room for Tobin and Lydia on one end, Orion and Elmira on the other.

As music filled the air, along with Nordic female singers in high chanting melodies, joined by the deep rhythms of Torvellen males, Adem began to relax for a while. He drank a pint of spiced apple cider, chewed on a duck leg, and listened to his grandson relate the tale of their adventure to the ancient past. Stories of terrifying encounters with demons of old, but Adem particularly liked hearing about Druantia's Children, and the Giants and other companions that had joined them on their quest. Particularly Little Grom, the description of which reminded Adem of an adventure of his own, that seemed now long ago. On the quest to find the Heart of Odin, and a cure to save Jean from a terrible sleeping curse. It was also in that strange realm that Carl first discovered and rescued Elarja RinHannen, without whom their story would now be at an end. It was thoughts like those that made Adem consider the word _destiny_.

It was at that moment of thought that Adem said to Rayne, 'Pendral is without a doubt the strongest out of the three of us. With this scar he gave me; I am beginning to think my days are numbered.' Rayne looked his way with a troubled expression, before Adem continued to say, 'But we must find a way to defeat him. That or figure out a way to eliminate his meddling ways before it's too late.'

'What do you suggest, grandfather?' Rayne asked.

'What if we recruited him?'

'Recruit Pendral? Grandfather! How? I mean, when? If you intercept him too far back in time, I will cease to exist entirely!'

'Not that far back. Just at a point where we can still reason with him. Appeal to the good that remains a part of him. We could use him. Find out things no one else knows. We could change the past. What do you think?'

'It would change everything! There would be no High Lord General of the High-Servants. No betrayal by Pendral. No history of his bloodshed.'

'Exactly,' Adem replied with a sneaky grin.

'What you propose is more than dangerous,' Rayne said respectfully, though Adem noted the strain in his tone.

'Yes, well, it was just a thought,' Adem replied. 'It is something to consider, for another time.'

Epilogue

Demonfist

Pendral was fuming with vitriol to have been defeated by his father, and his son! If only Pendral could learn the secret to bending time. Pendral could manipulate the timelines in his favour, achieving victory for his Master.

He could use Jinn-Fendinn's growing hold over the timelines to his advantage however, as he fought back against the troublesome Elarja RinHannen and his leaping through time like he thought himself some kind of god. The man made Pendral completely irate!

The change of tactics was beginning to take shape. Pendral would use greater force to drive this game of _mohrthra'daeghal_ into a winning streak. He would use the other Hex-Warlords and the Hex-Keepers as his main attacking force, realising now that demons were only a delaying tactic. Especially against the Battle Angels in their current form. The Old Ways were returning, but this would mean a gradual increase in the Magic of Jinn-Fendinn, and so too his servants of the Shadow.

Pendral had succeeded in a number of ways that could not be undone. Firstly, the death of Enserah Martyr had begun the Dark Prophecy that spoke of the fall of the Wolf. Corruption now grew in the heart of Wil Martyr. It would eventually lead him to join forces with Pendral.

Adem Highlander's scar had been somehow repaired to a degree by the miraculous Carl Wilder. Advantages Highlander had gained from this made Pendral a little nervous, but the wound could not be cured completely. Eventually the scar would drain Highlander of all strength and will. He would bend his knee to the High-Jinn, or he would die.

The Ragnarök Battle was fast approaching, but Pendral had already set up many such pitfalls to hinder the success of the Sons and Daughter. Ultimately, when Jinn-Fendinn escaped his prison, Pendral would be waiting to receive rewards for his years of faithful service. With these new forms of Angel-Magic and Jinn-Magic, Koriken Demonfist would annihilate his enemies. Driving them into shallow graves, as he wreaked his final vengeance upon Kismeria. Bringing about the end of time itself!

As the dark cloaked forms of Hex-Warlords and Hex-Keepers began to appear within the obsidian chamber, Pendral prepared new plans and tactics to disable, weaken and destroy the Armies of the All-Father. Sly as a fox they had once called him. They were not wrong. Savage as a wolf with the rage of a dragon. Koriken Demonfist was a conduit of corruption and flames.

The End of the Fourth Book of Sons of Odin.

Book Five

of the

Sons of Odin

Dis Pater's Rage

Angel-Magic Edition

L. A. Hammer

Copyright 2019 L.A. Hammer.

Published by L.A. Hammer at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition Licence Notes

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover artwork, maps and interior illustrations by Minh Nguyen – flare3103

For my dearest, Mother,

Without her, there would be no me.

10 There shall not be among you _anyone_ that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, _or_ that useth divination, _or_ an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch. 11 Or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer.

12 For all that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord: and because of these abominations the Lord thy God doth drive them out from before thee.

13 Thou shalt be perfect with the Lord thy God.

Holy Bible – Deuteronomy 18:10-13 - Authorised King James Version

13 You must be blameless before the Lord your God.

Holy Bible – Deuteronomy 18:13 - New International Version

Prologue

A Dutiful Son

Pendral sat on his reading stool, looking over his studies in the ancient Lore of Kismeria. The books were not especially old, as Pendral was aware of the destruction of most Kismerian libraries early on in the Age of Chaos, a year or more before he was born. These books were amongst some of those that had been salvaged from the flames of Hex-Warlords. Studies in medicine, Healing-Magic, as well as using _teron_ and _terael_ as weapons.

Pendral was particularly interested in the studies of healing mental illness with herbs and potions. It was something his father, Adem Highlander, had set for him as his studies years ago during one of his visits. Pendral was only four years old at the time, but his mother Isabelle had already taught him writing words and counting numbers. With his father's instruction, Pendral set about the task of finding a cure for the Schism of highly concentrated Jinn-Magic within _teron_ , and the corruption of a vampire curse upon _terael_.

Pendral had celebrated his seventh name day only five weeks past, and although his father had not been able to make it to the feast day, he had visited Pendral in his chambers that evening, giving him a very special gift. It was the sword that Adem Highlander had wielded before Pendral was born. A blue glowing blade infused with _teron_ and _ki'mera_ , that once housed Battle Angels such as Arawn and Balor. There were no longer any Battle Angels using the blade as a Resting Point, but Pendral understood the importance of the gift, being handed down by his father. Pendral also knew that his mother had been looking after the weapon until Pendral was old enough to wield it.

The sword was still too long and heavy for Pendral to train with, but he used a practice blade in the palace courtyard five days a week. Sometimes his father was there to watch his practice, under the training of the finest Agnars of this Age. Most often Pendral practiced alone, though at times he was set against a number of older boys, both mortal and immortal. Pendral was already getting to a stage where he could outmatch any one of them, or even three at one time!

He was looking over notes he had made about certain herbs and their healing properties when a familiar flash of aqua brilliance filled the darkened chamber. His father stepped through the Portal-Magic with a sombre visage, though when their eyes met, Pendral felt his father's love emanating through those cold blue eyes. Eyes that always seemed to grin whenever they were together.

'Father, you're back!' Pendral exclaimed, rushing to embrace him, standing no taller than his waist. His father hugged him back and spoke gently to say, 'I could hardly bear another moment without being by your side, dear son. Again, I am very sorry I could not celebrate your birthday properly with your mother. You know I have other important duties, and they often keep me away.' Adem Highlander then glanced over at the writing desk to remark, 'You are keeping to your studies I see. That is good, son. We will make a scholar of you yet. Sit, and tell me what you have learnt so far.'

So Pendral returned to his seat, and his father took a chair that he moved to be seated beside Pendral. He read his notes out loud for his father who listened intently, with a growing grin that Pendral always thought of as sneaky.

His father suffered from the corruption upon male Angel-Magic perhaps more than any other in Kismeria, but of late, during these visits, Pendral had noted a change in him. An improvement he would call it. Pendral hoped terribly that the reason for this was these visits and the time he spent with his son. Moments that Pendral cherished more than anything else in this world.

Pendral had loved his father even long before he first met him, although he had memories of his father's face even as far back as when he was still a baby in his crib. But it was his mother's tales of Adem Highlander's adventures that made Pendral love and adore his father so very much. When he began to get to know his father from these short visits, he began to love him even more.

'How is your scar, Father?' Pendral asked, to which his father replied, 'It still gives me pain at times, son. Mostly I am able to withstand its draining effects.'

'Let me see what I can do,' Pendral said, reaching towards the dark dragon tattoo across his father's chest, revealed where the pale shirt was not completely buttoned to the neck. He wore his dark Alit'aren coat and trousers, with brown leather boots. His father's face showed concern when Pendral began to wield a little Angel-Magic to investigate the nature of the scar further.

Suddenly, the quill in Pendral's right hand began to burn bright crimson. The feather caught flame to morph into a small pixie of golden-orange light, not unlike a dragon in form. Pendral had suddenly also felt a great surge of another form of Magic that he did not like to use. When investigating that terrible scar, Jinn-Magic entered his veins by some immense force of instinct.

The two of them watched the small dragon rise into the air, floating around the chamber, high up into the vaulted ceilings. It suddenly began to grow very quickly, until its form nearly covered the entire tops of the chamber. Huge golden wings spread wide as the dragon opened its jaws as if about to set the room aflame!

His father raised his right hand, with index finger extended. A brilliant blue strand of light shot forth from his fingertip. A miniature wielding similar to a true Spear of Odin. As the beam made contact with the dragon, both the beam of light and the glowing Spirit Warden flared, shimmered, and then vanished in a cloud of glowing dust.

'You must be more careful, my son,' Highlander said with a cautious glare, seeming more nervous than upset with Pendral.

'I'm sorry, Father! It just seems to happen every time I try to find out how that scar works. I feel terrible for you. I just wish you would tell me the tale of how you got it.'

'That is a tale for another day,' Adem said carefully, buttoning the shirt and then dark coat up to the high collar. Decorated with the sigil of the Wolf, Lion and Dragon, the three Rohjors of the Sons of Odin.

There was a knock at the door. His mother entered to look upon his father with delighted exasperation. She rushed across the floor to wrap her arms around his seated form. His father's eyes taking on that smile that said he was helpless to resist, but that he also did not want to be anywhere else but here and now.

'My beloved darling,' his mother exclaimed, 'it has been so long! I have missed you with all my heart. Wishing for the day of your return!' Then she stood back, crossing her arms under her breasts, wearing a pink silk gown with red roses sewn upon the arms and hem as she said with some scorn, 'And here I find you, visiting our dear beloved son and you do not spare a moment to visit me in my chambers!' Pendral began to blush, knowing the sort of visit his mother wished for. Pendral also knew that his father avoided such visitations despite his evident passion for the woman. Pendral assumed it had to do with his father's relationship with the Daughter of Thor, who was said to be a great rival of his mother's in their battle to win the heart of Adem Highlander.

'I cannot always take the time to inform you that I am in town,' Adem said with extra care, perhaps sensing the danger of upsetting Isabelle further. 'You know how important it is for me to spend time with Pendral.' He spoke those words with such emphasis that Pendral began to wonder at their hidden meaning. His father spoke again to say to Isabelle, 'I have also made it clear that I am unable to share such moments with you, my love. As much as I would wish it.'

His mother began to sniff as Pendral watched water welling in her eyes. Those dark orbs shining even brighter before she clutched Adem by the shoulders, leaning in to kiss his father passionately on the lips, before she moved back. Slapped his face hard! Turning on her heel to glide across the floor and out the door. This was not an unfamiliar scene for Pendral to witness between his parents. It was in fact quite common place.

But for Pendral, these exchanges made the Ruhalden Palace feel more like home to him, because they were all together again. They were a whole family. He looked at his father earnestly as he said, 'I understand, Father. Do not worry over Mother's moods. I will cheer her up as best I can. After you leave again.' Those last words brought a stab of pain to Pendral's chest. His father's absence was always a sore point for him.

'I will return again as soon as I am able, my son.' Adem said, rubbing Pendral's hair to ruff it into a fluff. Then Pendral watched with great regret, as his father stood and created another Portal-Spell—those sad blue eyes smiling at Pendral as he gazed back at him for one last time—then stepped through to vanish into thin air. As he always did.

Why can he not stay for just a little longer?

***

Adem stepped out of the Portal-Magic to arrive at the meeting place assigned for Elarja. The Time Strider always waited in a new location while Adem visited his son in various stages of his youth. Elarja using the now semi-operable Time Stones to return Adem to the true present each time the visit was ended, where they assessed the benefits or damage of such visits.

They met in a small cellar stocked with barrels of wine and ale. Under an old inn on the borders of Torvis, the Torvellen populated region of the Free Lands. Adem noted the concern on Elarja's face when he returned to the cellar, those emerald eyes glowed with a cautious glare. Adem did his best to display a mind of clarity, as he continued to resist the impure concentrations within _teron_ , as well as the mind-altering effects of the Jinn Arts that Adem was still at times forced to wield.

'How was he?' Elarja asked.

'My son is well,' Adem replied in a soft tone. 'At least ... he is now. I do not know what changes it will have when we return to the present. There was little time to teach him all of the things I consider important for his upbringing. Morality. Compassion. He yearns for the guidance of his father, but my visits are always far too short.'

'Let's return,' Elarja said, as he created a Time Sphere with the glowing Stones held in his fists. A warp of space and time bulged around them in glowing colours as that now too familiar sound filled the air: a tearing of the fabric of reality.

When the sphere contracted again to dissipate, Adem found himself in a meeting hall, at Orodhel. They often switched locations for their return. Jean, Carl, Wil and Hayley using Portal-Magic to leap across the Free Lands to meet them at each location. The four of them were already in the chamber when Adem and Elarja arrived. Seated around a small polished oak table with a dark stain. Carved with each sigil of the Four Rohjors. A Fox, Wolf, Lion and Dragon on each side.

The room was lit with lanterns hanging from the walls. Glowing dull amber with the light of the morning sun pouring through windows higher up. It was mostly formed of marble. Columns of blue-veined white with green and golden checked tiles speckled with black, the walls a brilliant obsidian that seemed to hum with the ancient power of its creation. Orodhel was even older than the now burned and ruined city of Nordhel. Built during the Age of Heroes; the craftsmen were guided by Alit'aren and Ael Tarael, communicating with the Angels of Earth and Stone to weld the elements into almost indestructible formation.

'How did it go?' Jean asked with a cross expression.

'It went well, I think,' Adem replied solemnly. 'How much has changed?'

'Nothing has changed!' Jean snapped in retort. 'Valmeron is still in ruin. As is Nordhel. A multitude of lives remain lost through the history of Pendral's wrath. I swear to you Adem; that child is dangerous. You risk much by getting involved with him. More to the point, you cannot change him. The madness will get to him eventually, no matter how much you try to reach him.'

'He is beginning to love me, Jean,' Adem said in earnest. 'There must be a chance we can alter his overall state of mind. If he can regain the love of his father. I want him to experience a somewhat proper childhood, with his family.'

'I am your wife, Adem. Janeanne is your legitimate daughter. We are your family. Isabelle, Pendral and Rayne are all your mistakes. The mess you have created. I know you love them all, but Isabelle is a nuisance, Rayne is cursed and perhaps more likely to destroy the world than his completely insane father! Pendral will only learn advantage from these meetings, as he advances over the past thousand years. Madness will corrupt that love he feels for you. He will use it against you.'

'I have to try, Jean. I believe I can bring about some good within my son. Some lasting speck of morality and honour. But also, his love for his family, to maybe turn him back to the All-Father.'

'I have done quite a large amount of research into Pendral's past,' Carl said. Interrupting them both to possibly ease the situation. 'It seems there was always a brooding darkness about him. Legends say it relates back to Isabelle's capture by the Hex-Warlords, the last time we fought the Jinn-Lord and sealed him in Kerak'Otozi. It seems there was corruption upon his spirit even before he was born. A result of that time spent at the peak and within the heart of the mountain. I believe this is the dark magic that restricts our capacity to change the past. Ultimately, no matter what you try to teach him, or how much love you provide, the Shadow will take hold of him eventually.

'It is engrained within his soul.'

'Still,' Adem replied, 'I have to try.'

Janeanne then entered the chamber with Terese and Arig in tow. Adem's daughter looked resplendent in a gown of shimmering blue, sewn with white pearls in the shape of foxes along the sleeves and breasts. Jean and Terese wearing similar outfits of coats, trousers and matching boots. Jean's red, Terese's dark green. Carl and Wil wore their usual Alit'aren black. Hayley wore an emerald green gown of silk that reminded Adem of the woman's Battle Angel, Druantia.

Wil and Hayley were still a great threat to Pendral's life, and so far, Adem had not risked taking either of those two with him to the past to visit Pendral as a boy. He knew they would do their best to murder him. In the hope of bringing their daughter back to life in the altered timelines.

Adem had promised he would do the same if the chance arose, but from the first time he looked at Pendral as a baby in his crib—those dangerous dark eyes glowing with warmth and a latent corruption—Adem knew he could never murder his own child. So, he would be forced to break an oath to his Brother, Wil. He knew it would eventually cause a great rift between them. Hayley also would not forget his promise, but what choice did he have?

I have to save my son!

When Terese was caught up with the details of the last encounter, she sniffed with disapproval before saying, 'Madmen! The line of Dragon-Sword will bring this world to ruin soon enough!'

'Have faith, Terese,' Arig Flame-Bow replied in a soft gravelly tone. Dressed in a crimson silk robe with silver falcons etched in gold lining the neck, waist and sleeves. His enchanted bow gleaming above his shoulder in his jewelled leather case. He looked every bit the Hero of Will. His mask was removed, to reveal tan skin and a dark moustache. Large dark eyes and hooked beak of a nose regarding his Spirit Sister with compassion. Those eyes were also that of a hardened veteran. The spark of corruption beginning to glow there also.

Eventually they would all turn mad. Terese was right about that much. Their only hope was to discover a way to heal the corruption upon _teron_ and _terael_. If not, it was only a matter of time before the Jinn-Lord had his victory.

It was for this very reason that Adem had set his young son Pendral to the task of discovering a cure for the taint and the curse. Adem believed Pendral was their best hope of finding such a remedy. He had the spark of genius in him, obviously obtained from his mother's side, and his immortal bloodline. Adem could admit that much. Adem had been a fine student as a child also, but already he noticed abilities of the mind in the young Pendral to far exceed any trait Adem could have possibly passed on genetically. His son's skill with language and numbers were astounding even at a very young age. He had the potential to be one of the greatest scholars to ever live in this world. This made the knowledge of his fated path so much more devastating to consider. At least from the perspective of his father.

When Adem began to discuss this need for a cure with his companions, Arig spoke again to suggest, 'What if we rescued Evolo Marzosiel from the ancient past? We could at least to try to learn his secret recipe for that miracle cure he had discovered.'

'That was a very dangerous time for us all,' Terese interjected. Hawklike dark eyes sparkling like rare gems as her gaze flickered about the room from one face to another, regarding each that she spoke to with the scorn of a mother who would take no nonsense from foolish children. 'The idea has merit, but we know of Calliach's incessant hunting of any lives we rescue from their fated demise. We would also only have that small window of opportunity from the time the cure was discovered, to whatever moment Evolo was murdered. I fear it would be far too great a risk to any of us that still live.'

Arig gave a soft sigh of submission to such advice, that was basically taken as a command. Between those two former ghosts, Terese always had the upper hand. A matter of Arig's great respect for the woman.

With Elarja it was something different, however. Adem had noticed it the last time he was here. Over a thousand years ago. The more he saw the two of them in the same room; Adem became more and more certain that Elarja had a serious crush on Terese! The very notion was nothing other than beguiling for Adem to consider. Terese had never seemed interested in any man. At least, she had never had the time to notice any, other than for their potential to protect the life of the Daughter of Thor. Adem wondered if the woman noticed the way Elarja looked at her. The way the son of the First Nordic King's breath caught in his throat each time he seemed ready to address her. At times he said nothing at all! Just stared like a lost lamb. Eyes that obviously saw more in Terese than Adem had ever noticed, other than her blatant immortal beauty.

The woman was hard as stone, with a heart to match! Though Adem considered that perhaps it was a matter of respect for Elarja also. He had a deep admiration for the woman that went beyond his spoken words. It was expressed in every fibre of his being towards her, no matter how much he attempted to conceal such feelings.

Bringing his thoughts back to the present, Adem suggested, 'Let's get something to eat. We can discuss things further over lunch, then it will be time to act on pressing matters that affect us in the present. The Jinn-Lord is moving his forces westwards. The Forsaken scouts report vast hordes moving from as far as Kerak'Otozi to the Borderlands. Tarz suspects they intend to attack the High Wall any day now.'

'That is something that has changed then,' Elarja said with caution. 'At least since the Great Angels were returned from the ancient past. Upon visiting a future of ill fate before that adventure, I learnt of an attack upon the Forsaken armies on a vast scale, but that was dated more than two years from now. I dread to wonder what this could mean.'

Adem felt a wave of trepidation as he asked, 'You think my visits to Pendral have brought the war to us earlier than expected?'

'It seems the most likely answer to this riddle,' Elarja replied. 'I would like to investigate the potential futures a little more to get an idea of what we are facing. Our other option is to continue to visit your son as a young man. Try to alter these events from occurring so suddenly.'

'There is an alternative to you visiting these futures of ill fate,' Adem suggested, suddenly realising he had a very clever idea!

'What are you thinking, husband?' Jean asked. Large blue eyes burning with curiosity over the sneaky grin he knew he must be wearing.

'The Chameleon Arches,' Adem replied. 'They will show us what we need to know. Past, present and hopefully future.'

Chapter 1

Heroes and Children

Rayne Dragon-Sword rode his dark _altherin_ stallion. His fellow Children of Odin gathered about him in the Royal Stables of Orodhel. The horse was a gift from the gods you might say: for it was the horse he rode when he emerged from the Harp of Odin as a Hero of Will. The reportedly short time between his second death and the moment he became a Ghost Hero were without a single scrap of memory or vision for him however, as there was no sight beyond the grave. Not even for half-bloods.

Many of those Heroes that had now become solid flesh and bone were amongst his company of riders also. They prepared to form a Portal-Spell to carry them directly to Kerak'Otozi. Rayne wanted to do a little research on the current status of the Jinn-Lord and his prison.

Rievenna rode a pale mare by his side, her eyes shining with caution as a number of Heroes and Children of Odin formed Portal-Magic large enough for the company of forty riders to pass through. Scorching heat of the East Lands washed over his face, as soon as the shining wall revealed the dark magma pooled soils. Billowing black clouds lined in crimson and silver.

Shaye, Ellagon and Ragan were also part of the group. Rayne knew he would find it difficult to become separated from those three ever again. They had already lost him twice, after all. Shaye and Ellagon were dressed similarly to Rayne, all in their Alit'aren coats and trousers, brown or black leather boots. Rohjor pins attached to their high collars.

They all wore their Aldebrand cloaks. Every member of the team. Except Ragan, who always wore a dashing crimson woollen cloak. The signature style had become somewhat of a legend attributed to his name. Revered by many of the great captains and generals for his battle wits and expert strategies.

The reason for the cloaks was that nights in the East Lands were often colder than any other part of the Free Lands. Except the snow-capped mountain peaks, although the East Land soil would often become layered with a crust of frost before the morning heat returned. There were even times when heavy snow would fall during the winter months. These conditions were such that only the Forsaken had ever learnt to adapt, over the last millennia of their aims to conquer these cursed lands.

The Portal-Spell took them close to Kerak'Otozi, within sight of the massive dark peak that fumed with smoke. Ash and magma bubbling and pouring from the tip. It was not wise to arrive too close to the mountain. Eruptions of lava flow were unpredictable. It was possible to find yourself swimming in it; if you did not take caution with where you landed.

The fumes in the air were foul from the first breath. The warriors in his team immediately formed bubbles around their skulls with clean Air flowing through it, for more comfortable and safer breathing. Such Angel-Magic could be maintained for up to a week—even while sleeping—for the calibre of wielders he had brought with him. Without draining much of their potential to do some serious damage against the demons of this region.

One thing that seemed to have changed since Elarja's recent trips through time, were reports Rayne had received that the scale of the demon hordes had increased dramatically. More than in any futures of ill fate that the Time Strider had previously visited of this timeline, known now as the true present. Rayne did not know what to make of that, but Elarja's theories included the possibility that bringing the ancient might of the Great Angels so far into the future, had greatly limited their Power during the entire history of Kismeria from that time up until now. This theory was concerning for everyone that had heard it, for it suggested the possibility of a total reforming of the world's histories. Lives lost. Cities destroyed. Battles ending in total annihilation rather than victory.

There were glimpses of this shift in the timelines for any who had ever heard the tales of what had been. Combined with the schism of memories played over that first memory that were in complete conflict with the original report. The result was mind boggling, and often caused many headaches. But there was still some stability to the world. Not everything had been altered. Some things seemed to be always set in stone.

One change that suited Rayne better than most, was the presence of a greater host of Heroes of Will before the Ghost Wardens were made into flesh. Whether by some vast alteration of the histories or just some miraculous Magic of Odin, the number of Heroes had grown from a few hundred to close to five hundred. Men and women added to the Hero Chain and bound to the Great Cycle. Then, almost immediately after, they were all set free of those Chains. They had one final chance to live again, and perhaps serve the Sons and Daughter at the Ragnarök Battle.

This change of chance suited Rayne because it gave him greater leverage. His forces were in that way stronger. More reliable. It gave him hope.

'The Jinn-Lord will send someone,' Shaye told Rayne, sitting his grey colt beside Rievenna, 'or something, to stop us reaching our goals as soon as He is able. We must make haste, Brother.'

'Take a scouting party ahead to survey for any demon sign,' Rayne commanded. Soon Shaye, Ellagon and Ragan were riding through another smaller Portal-Spell with a host of Children and Heroes close behind.

Rayne waited anxiously for their return, but as time drifted by, he knew something was wrong. Tohka Reiden could not communicate with Shaye or Ellagon's Battle Angels either, which confirmed Rayne's fears even more so. Even the strength and spirit of Odin that resided in the Sword of Valour was no help in figuring out what had become of his friends. Eventually Rayne was forced to go out and search for them.

They used another Portal-Spell to move closer to the foot of Kerak'Otozi. They then rode with haste the remainder of the way, leaving their horses with a host of warriors while a chosen party began to ascend the craggy dark mountainside. It was not possible to form Portal-Magic on the slopes of the mountain. Some part of the Jinn-Lord's Magic locked their ability out, but they could still wield to protect themselves.

Rayne and Rievenna ran swiftly to ascend, their half-blood and pure Aelfin feet carrying them with such speed and agility it would blur to the eyes of a mortal. Others that followed included veteran Children: Brealda and Hamuko. Shollian of Odin's Return; along with the Heroes Elizel, Rocard and Breeanna.

Each of them moved with similar speed, though for Hamuko, it was a gift to his mortal blood by birthright as an Odin Child. The thick muscled figure even taking great leaps to higher stones that were far beyond the capacity of common mortal flesh.

Other scouts were searching the area surrounding the base of Kerak'Otozi, in hope of finding some sign of what became of their companions. Soon Rayne had climbed so high the ground below was covered by layers of floating ash, cloud and smoke. He could see no sign of his friends. His Battle Angels still insisting they did not know what had gone wrong.

At the same time during their ascent, Rayne and his companions were using other forms of latent magic. To sense within the heart of the mountain. Trying to learn of the status of the seal on the Jinn-Lord's prison. From what Rayne could detect, the seals were close to fracturing. The presence of the Jinn-Lord within that space was an ominous force that brought anxious loathing. Corruption of his grandfather's curse throbbing in tune with the heartbeat of the Jinn-Fendinn.

In that regard his mission was already a success. He had achieved what he came for, yet his concern for his closest companions and other allies was swelling to nervous terror. He felt Rievenna's caution and agitation via the _kigare_. He knew he should flee and seek reinforcements to continue the search, when suddenly—

A flare of crimson appeared in the sky, over ten feet above his head. Instinctively Rayne changed the direction of his leap. A red arc lanced upon the mountainside where he had been standing. Flames erupting off the side of the mountain as he fled, leaping into the sky with Odin Wings flaring from his shoulders.

He spun mid-air to glimpse a dark cloaked Hex-Warlord hovering in the sky. Rayne's blade was unsheathed as he aimed the tip of the steel to unleash a Spear of Odin. The Hex-Warlord vanished before it struck. Glimmering blue fire streaking off into the distant horizon. Crimson flares suddenly appeared on every angle!

His companions were already on the alert. They fought back immediately, while sprinting and leaping to avoid being struck by Hellfire blasts unleashed from Shadow fists. All twelve of the Hex-Warlords were now present. Hovering in the dark clouded air surrounding Kerak'Otozi. Including the newest—but also oldest recruit due to the altered timelines—Lenk the Betrayer. Elarja's blood brother.

Rayne fought back. Sending forth dozens of blinding beams of energy. Blue fire lancing from the tip of his blade. The first struck the shield of Torkhan. Golden goat faced mask flaring as the bolt impacted, sending the Hex-Warlord flying into the distance. It was merely from the force of which Rayne's attack hit his shield. Still, Rayne hoped it at least hurt just a little.

His next attacks were less successful. Hex-Warlords reinforcing their Shield-Spheres to the extent that those targets he did hit were only temporarily doused in electric shocks. Angel-Magic coursing in blue bolts around a field of crimson. The hovering stance of each Accursed barely shifted.

Rayne had faced Hex-Warlords in swordfights too many times to count, but the situation was not that desperate yet. He feared the taint of their blades as sure as death itself. There was no cure from the corruption of those blades. They brought a swift death even from the slightest cut.

But something else was happening that he could not properly describe. His mind was being blocked somehow. He knew if he could remember what it was blocked from, they might have a chance of getting out of here alive. Their only choice for now was to attempt to fight their way back to the ground level. They would not be able to open Portal-Spells until they were some distance from the mountain.

'Defend and retreat!' Rayne shouted to his companions, using Angel-Magic to amplify his voice. The need to alert them of a battle plan left him no other choice but this. It reminded him of what he had forgotten, something that was missing. _What is it?_

His companions began to fight back with renewed fury, striking at the Shield-Spells of the Hex-Warlords with all manner of Elemental Magic. Fire Pythons launched from the clouds to chomp down on glowing crimson spheres, but to no avail. Pixie Wardens blasted against the unbreakable force presented by the Hex-Warlords in showers of glimmering sparks. Winged Lions launched upon the hovering Hex-Warlords to bite and claw without result, but the Hex-Warlords were also retreating, slowly. Moving further outwards through the air and away from the mountainside. Giving Rayne and his companions at least a better chance of dodging their deadly attacks.

Some Hex-Warlord attacks had already met their mark. Rayne and his companions were also wielding Shield-Spells to the best of their ability, and although the strikes that found a target did not cause physical harm so far, Rayne knew such attacks would greatly drain his warriors of vital strength. Lowering their hopes of an escape!

Rayne still hovered beside the mountain on wings of aqua fire. Unleashing bars of blue flame at his enemies to distract them from their other targets. Even though he could have easily made his escape, he would never leave Rievenna. He also cared enough for these other brave warriors to face death a third time if necessary.

Rayne landed on the mountainside to draw enemy fire when aqua Portal-Spells opened up all around him! He glanced left and right to see Shaye, Ellagon and Ragan. Rayne was filled with overwhelming horror the moment he saw their faces! He leapt again into the sky as his closest lifelong friends raised fists to unleash Angel-Magic. Three beams of light crossing one another in red, golden and aqua flame. Rayne spun in the air to catch a glimpse of their attempt to murder him!

He had known the moment he saw their faces. Twisted with venomous hatred. Their true spirit trapped within; grappling in a mad struggle against the new master that controlled their every move ... His friends were _possessed!_

The Jinn-Lord's Magic must be extreme this close to his prison because Shaye and Ellagon were not even corrupted by the taint on _teron_. Their birthright provided a pure form of Angel-Magic, which meant Rayne was perhaps in even greater danger of becoming possessed. The theory was that these possession demons were more able to take control of men already half mad from the taint!

He dived and looped through the sky as his three friends hurled more blasts of _teron._ Ragan hurling Hellfire! He moved desperately to escape their attacks, but he would not fight back. He could not harm his friends when there was any hope of saving them from this terrible plight.

Rievenna and the other Children and Heroes were not of the same mind set. They immediately lashed out against the three possessed souls with lightning and fire. Pure incandescent bolts striking Shield-Spheres surrounding the three. Each vanished through another Portal-Spell, appearing higher up the slopes to strike back with blasts of magic that battered against the Shield-Spheres of his protectors.

Breeanna unleashed Lightning-Arrows from her Lukrorian Bow that shone like glass—garbed in a blue coat, white trousers and dark shining breastplate with the sigil of the White Tiger—striking at the Shield-Spells of the Hex-Warlords that still hovered further out in the distance. Elizel holding her crimson-and-gold metallic shield on her left forearm—gleaming breastplate marked by the Red Falcon. Dark coat and boots with grey trousers—unleashing waves of magic in the shape and colours of the shield, launching out and growing in size to smash against the Shield-Spheres of the Hex-Warlords.

Rocard leapt like a fleeting shadow. Garbed in Alit'aren black with a shining silver breastplate marked with the Blue Dragon sigil. His swords were sheathed as he unleashed blue lightning bolts from each fist. Attacking the Hex-Warlords one moment, then alternating to batter the Shield-Spells of the possessed men.

Rievenna, Brealda and Hamuko fought in similar style. The three Children continuing to summon Spirit Wardens from the earth and sky. Fire Pythons chomping down on Hex-Warlord Shield-Spells to distract their focus. Fire Lions and Pixie Wardens moved around the mountain slopes. Blasting at the Shield-Spheres of the three possessed men, as well as their other companions that were appearing in warps of Fire-and-Air-Magic. Both Children and Heroes caught by the dominating will of possession demons, entering their flesh and bones.

Rievenna unleashed golden sheet lightning and emerald Lightning-Arrows from her Lukrorian Bow. Brealda summoned Stone Javelins from above to shatter against enemy Shield-Spheres, perhaps weakening their defences. Hamuko's Shadow Hounds charged alongside the Lions to drive the attackers into retreat.

The result was all out chaos unfolding before Rayne's eyes. His fear for Rievenna's safety was becoming overwhelming. He considered scooping her up and carrying her off and away from the battle. His other option was a plan that would perhaps push them to their limits.

Still there was that terrible mind block. Stopping him from comprehending perhaps the full meaning of words that had nearly entered his mind, half a dozen times or more in a matter of seconds. He grappled against the mind block feebly, sending out more blasts of blue Angel-Magic to strike against the Hex-Warlords in the sky. They seemed to be moving closer again. Their confidence was building, but Pendral was not amongst them yet. He would be the one orchestrating this ambush.

Suddenly Rayne felt something via the _kigare_. It was Shaye. He was fighting against his possession demon. Their linked emotions told this fact, but something more. It was almost as if words were close to being transferred to Rayne's mind by his possessed friend. He watched Shaye halt his attacks. His face and form showed the struggle within the man's soul. The strength of the possession demon fighting back to overpower Shaye was evident to Rayne even from his distant vantage point.

Then the words broke through, though they were not actually Shaye's own words. At that moment the mind block vanished. At the same time that the message was received.

Summon your Battle Angels!

Rayne shouted the names, 'Tohka Reiden! Odin!'

The skies above became Elemental Magic. Bolts of incandescence struck the mountainside, and further out, all around. Might of his Battle Angels Awoken! Flame Dragons burning white coiled around the bolts. Many striking the Hex-Warlords in the sky to chomp down on Shield-Spheres with massive burning jaws. At this moment he believed they had a chance at victory. Hex-Warlords began to vanish through crimson Portal-Spells, but suddenly Shaye, Ellagon and Ragan began to dominate with renewed stamina. Hurling blasts of Hellfire and Angel-Magic at those that still fought for Rayne, and the other possessed Heroes and Children also attacked with greater speed and ferocity!

Then Rayne began to notice glowing figures appearing all around the mountainside. Fear took hold again. He realised these were many more possession spirits. This was not just an ambush. It was a trap!

The Hex-Warlords appeared again. Hovering in the sky as each reached out to try to throw a Shield-Trap over Rayne! He had been their target all along. The rest were just casualties. Pendral appeared close by Rayne. The strength of Rayne's Battle Angels provided the only means to resist such a huge link of Jinn-Magic. Combined energies entwining Rayne in a sphere of crimson webbing that pulsed and flared like a beating heart.

Pendral's face was unmasked. His contorted features seemed to appeal to Rayne as he shouted over the thunder. 'Give in, Rayne Dragon-Sword! Surrender to the will of the Jinn-Lord! I promised you, the High-Jinn would spare your life, if you do this. Serve Him! Assist me to destroy this world! Perhaps even your darling Rievenna may also be spared, but no more than this. Kismeria is doomed to die, my son! You must face it!'

There was something different about Rayne's father this time. Despite his mad expressions, he appeared earnest in his appeal. There were emotions running through his eyes that spoke of a serious change in the man. He looked like a man desperate to be loved. A man who wished for nothing more than to be joined with family. Perhaps Adem Highlander's journeys to visit Pendral during his childhood had finally had some impact.

Bolts of Odin-Lightning struck against Pendral's own Shield-Sphere multiple times. His father raved without a sign of even noticing the attacks. Here it seemed Pendral was too strong for words to even describe. Something _had_ changed in the timelines. The Jinn-Lord had suddenly become far too powerful, and so too his Servants of the Shadow.

Yet whatever mad form of reasoning was behind his father's total lack of hope and will to resist the corruption of the Shadow, his willingness to serve the Jinn-Lord was repugnant! _Despicable!_

Rayne felt rage swell in his soul—remembering all the unspeakable crimes his father had committed in service to the Shadow—as he launched a blazing Spear of Odin at his father's heart. Joined with his Battle Angels to create a force that even his father could not withstand. The beam of energy struck the crimson sphere in a blast of white-hot sparks. Pendral was sent flying into the distance with a hollow wail!

At that moment the Shield-Web surrounding Rayne also vanished. Rayne understood that Pendral had held the link of his Shadow Brothers. This moment seemed to be Rayne's only chance of escaping this fight. He swooped upon the mountainside to land behind Rievenna. In a fighting stance: she unleashed arrows against Shaye and Ellagon. Rayne scooped her up under her armpit, lifting her legs to carry her over the threshold. Wings of Odin carried them both into the air. He flew like a bolt of lightning. Escaping the battle and the power of this cursed mountain.

In those moments that he moved from sky, to Rievenna, and then to sky again, he had caught glimpses of the remaining Heroes and Children that fought on his side. He saw clearly in those moments that possession demons had entered their flesh also. He saw them rage in a tortured battle to resist the spirit that would soon overpower them.

When he reached the foot of the mountain, he flew over the heads of those that were watching the horses. Shouting commands that they flee this place and return to Orodhel by Portal-Magic immediately. They did not throw fire at him in the sky, so he hoped they were yet untouched by possession. He would not risk landing to find himself a victim of their plight.

He flew like an arrow through the sky until he sensed his capacity for Portal-Spells reawaken. Forming one large enough for him and Rievenna. Odin and Reiden returned to his Resting Point blade. They vanished from this land in a flicker of light.

***

Glossary

**Ael Tarael:** Female wielders of the Lord's Power, Ael Tarael are the most highly trained of these female wielders, both mortal and immortal. They are often trailed by Aldebrands who serve as bodyguards. They are usually dressed in fine bright silk dresses and woollen or velvet cloaks, with jewels on their ringed fingers and necklaces. Female wielders are more often strongest in Angel-Magics of Air and Water.

**Aldebrand:** Title given to the bodyguards who serve to protect rulers, wielders and the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. Bonded to Angel-Magics of the land of Kismeria, these warriors receive what is known as the gift that fortifies their strength and endurance, making them able to fight longer than men without the gift. They usually carry a longsword and quiver on each hip and a Lukrorian Bow slanted in a case over their backs. Most also wear the Aldebrand cloak of shadows that can blend with their surroundings through the will of the wearer.

**Alit'aren:** Male wielders of the Lord's Power, both mortal and immortal, they are the most skilled and highly trained of all male wielders in Kismeria. These men are doomed to become mad or evil from the taint on the male half of Angel-Magic. Most often garbed in high collared black coats of wool or silk, dark trousers and black or brown leather knee-high boots. Full Alit'aren wear the sigils of the Sons of Odin on their collars, the Wolf, the Lion and the Dragon. Male wielders are usually stronger in Angel-Magics of Earth and Fire.

**Annan Lior:** Also known as Manannan Mac Lir, a male Battle Angel who wields three swords, Storm Fury, Fire Rage and Star Fury. Each blade aids the Great Angel to create a different form of Elemental Magic; Fire Rage, for example can summon Charging Bulls of orange flame to fall from the heavens.

**Anwen:** One of Jean Fairsythe's Battle Angels, Anwen wields a tree branch that she uses to unleash birds of fire that attack her enemies, hawks, eagles and falcons. Anwen is a Middle- Realm Angel, bound to the earth and trees. Her Resting Point is Jean's blue sword.

**Arawn:** Battle Angel of Adem Highlander, and Great Angel of the Low Realm, or the Underworld. He unleashes Fire Lions in battle. His abilities are fuelled by _ki'mera_ orbs obtained from defeated demons. A spectre of dark shadows with a silver skull mask and gauntlets worked with dark runes, eyes of yellow-orange flame. He wields a sword of crimson fire with a long steel hilt.

**Archer:** Immortal warriors who have attained the title of Agnar, usually found amongst the Dremelden clans though there are Archers amongst all four immortal clans. They usually have a title that combines their clan name such as Reaven Archer, these warriors can be skilled in many types of weapons and most often serve as bodyguards similar to the Aldebrands.

**Balor:** Formerly one of Adem Highlander's Battle Angels, he wielded an axe of blue fire and summoned a giant spirit wolf named Shadowhunter. He was ten feet tall with a white beard and shining blue armour. The Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor return to Kismeria to learn that Balor has become corrupted by the Jinn-Lord and now serves the Shadow.

**Boli-Kuldr:** Ram or bull skulled demons, half man, half animal, these creatures can stand from eight to ten feet tall, usually in dark armour with shaggy thighs and hooves for feet, ram or bull horns with eyes of fierce rage. Most are armed with dark tridents, spears or scythe shaped blades. Boli-Kuldr will often cook a human in a large pot before eating. The Boli-Kuldr Wars were during an ancient Age when massive hordes of these demons invaded the Free Lands, massacring and creating chaos.

**Chameleon Arch:** Archways made with the Lord's Power, one for male wielders and one for female wielders. These portals to an alternate dimension were created as a test for the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor, though they have served as the final test for male and female wielders before they are named Alit'aren and Ael Tarael.

**Children of Odin:** There are two types of these peoples, that are not a race or a clan, but a breed of wielders both male and female, born on two nights throughout history, the First Generation of Odin being born on the same night as Pendral Dragon-Sword, the Second Generation being born on the night of the birth of Pendral's son, Rayne Dragon-Sword, these two men being the son and grandson of Adem Highlander, Pendral being the son of Isabelle, the Ruhalden Princess. Children of Odin were gifted exceptional strength in Angel-Magic, and in some cases other unique abilities, due to the great lightning storm on the night of their birth, the First being the night of Odin's Awakening; the Second Generation born during the storm of Odin's Return. Strangely, this Power of Odin that generates the gifts of the Children, allow these wielders to continue to harness and use _teron_ or _terael_ even during the days when wielding of Angel-Magic becomes unobtainable throughout the Free Lands. The Children of Odin are able to use a pure form of Angel-Magic; that does not contain the taint on _teron_ or the corruption on _terael_ ; however, this rule does not apply for Pendral or his son Rayne, as they are born of the lineage of Adem Highlander, and his curse is continued through them from birth. Therefore; nearly all Children of Odin except for Pendral and Rayne, are not susceptible to the corruption and threat of madness that plagues both halves of Angel-Magic. The restriction they face is that because of this pure form they wield, most of the Children, except Pendral and Rayne, are unable to wield Jinn-Magic and perform techniques such as demon mind control. There are hundreds of Children of Odin throughout the Free Lands from the First and Second Generation, and most are arguably the most powerful wielders of the Age of Chaos.

**Dark Elves:** Eva'Hahlen in the Nordic Tongue, these immortals are descended from the Dremelden Clans of Wood Kin, Archers and Aldebrands. Through studies of the Dark Arts and by wielding Jinn-Magic, a corrupt form of Power associated with the Jinn-Lord and his Generals, the Eva'Hahlen became altered in their minds and behaviours, changing also in appearance as a race, mostly tan skinned though sometimes also pale of complexion due to their lineage stretching back to the First Nordics, the Dark Elves are usually dark haired with fierce dark eyes that crackle with the menace of corruption over their very souls. They are mostly a hostile war like people, though over time they have become nomadic tribes seeking peace throughout the Free Lands as they trade and barter for animal stock, grain and other goods including weaponry, armour, clothing and tools. They rarely settle in one place long enough to establish farming communities, and they resort to Jinn-Magic combined with ancient Wood Elf Lore to foster swift growth of crops in times of need, often even growing huge fields of wheat or corn that pushes up through the winter snows. Most often Dark Elves are garbed in the _torin'sidhe_ camouflaged boots, coats and trousers with the enchanted shadow cloaks known as Aldebrand cloaks. They are expert hunters and trackers due to their ancient Lore, as well as perhaps the finest Archers in the land, though they are also significantly powerful at wielding Jinn-Magic as a weapon against their enemies, the study which brought about their separation from the Dremelden Clan.

**Dremelden:** Forest Immortals, strong in Angel-Magics of Earth and Fire. They are kin to the Great Angels of Light, Fire, Trees, Wood, Earth, and Water. They are usually garbed in greens and browns for camouflage in their forest dwellings; this forest garb is known as the _torin'sidhe_. They usually carried Lukrorian Bows that unleashed flaming arrows in the days before the Age of Chaos, though the bows are still used throughout this Age to fire arrows of Angel-Magic and Jinn-Magic as most races and nations have rebelled against the old decrees of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. Dremelden are less likely to wield the Dark Arts up until the last three years of history before the Second Arrival of the Sons and Daughter.

**Druantia:** Queen of the Druids, Wife to the Green Man, she symbolises fertility, growth, trees and forests. Her feast is Bellatanus. Great Angel of summer and spring, she becomes one of Jean Fairsythe's Battle Angels. Druantia can create giant soldiers that grow from the earth, creatures of wood and vine and leaf known as the Green Men. Druantia herself appears as a being of blue-green light in a shimmering gown with eyes of black seeds and hair of black fire. Druantia later became the Battle Angel of Hayley Martyr, and Hayley's vampire curse was passed on to Druantia and all female Great Angels, corrupting _terael_ to bring about the discovery of the Dark Arts.

**Eledisren:** Wil Martyr's Battle Angel, also known as Dis Pater. Once he was a ten feet tall figure of shadows with a silver monkey skulled necklace and dark plated armour; wielding a giant axe of golden light and unleashes a murder of crows with eyes and wing tips of flame. Long dark locks and pale skin with dark eyes filled with either sadness or hatred. The Battle Angels have diminished in size and Power during the last thousand years, and Adem Highlander soon discovers this theft of their magic by the Jinn-Lord, is slowly turning all Great Angels into nearly mortal beings.

**Enserah:** Daughter of Wil Martyr and Hayley Martyr. Born with greater abilities than most vampires, Enserah appears otherwise untouched by the curse, and can consume normal animal, mineral and vegetable matter. The woman is also gifted the ability of flight, a power most Nightwalkers can only achieve after feasting on human blood.

**Epona:** Female Battle Angel, Horse Maiden, golden hair and blue eyes of flame, often seen in armour of emerald shining light. Epona can summon a herd of Spirit Horses to fight at her side, enchanted beings of light and magic that can stomp demons in a stampede.

**Gyffes, Llew Llaw:** One of Adem Highlander's Battle Angels. Twelve feet tall, a horned helmet and golden scaled armour, his hair is long blue fire and he wields a great blue sword. He is also able to unleash a pack of savage Spirit Wolves to join him in combat.

**Gwydion:** Male Battle Angel, first to be released from the confines of a Resting Point in the Age of Chaos, also known as the Age of Arrival of the Sons of Odin and Daughter or Thor. Gwydion appears most often in the form of an old man, white bearded with a gnarled wooden staff and blue robes and pointed hat. The Lightning Angel, also known as the Magician God, was often mistaken for Odin in ancient times when Battle Angels were all free from Resting Points, and were summoned from a bolt of lightning, a storm wind, a grass fire, a river or forest, etc, through prayer and worship.

**Jacoulra:** Cousins to the Nymloc, these larger demons are bulkier in build with large torso and thick limbs. They often vary in eye colour from emerald, to crimson, to golden, to aqua to mauve. Some can wield fire and red lightning for elemental attacks. Most often ram skulled with curved ram or bull horns; they are black scaled with an appearance of tar like skin. Some stand up to ten feet tall and all are more difficult to defeat than a common Nymloc.

**Ki'mera:** Orbs of coloured light that are the spiritual powers of demons released after death. These orbs fuel the Battle Angels, as well as wielders to enhance their powers and abilities. See also: Resting Point.

**Lukrorian Bow:** An enchanted bow crafted with the Lord's Power, sometimes combining both _teron_ and _terael_ or otherwise only one half of Angel-Magic. The stone like surface appears to be marble though it is a binding of wood and a flexible marble like structure that coats the bow to protect the wood from the fire of the arrows of flame that are wielded with these enchanted weapons. Similar to the Hyperion Bow of mythologies from Earth's history, the arrows of fire are wielded through a crystal or jewel encased in a ring of gold that is attached to the string of the bow.

**Maeve:** Female Battle Angel, also known as Queen Maeve of the Faerie Realm, or the Witch Goddess. Maeve appears as a slight yet curvaceous and beautiful woman; dark eyes, ruby red lips, hair of white fire and a gown of silver light. Maeve has many Elemental Powers including control over many of the elemental creatures of Faerie. She is also known for an insatiable appetite for male company.

**Mathonwy, Math:** Battle Angel to Carl Wilder and Great Angel of the Low Realm. He wields the Hellhound Spear, a giant red glowing shaft that unleashes dark hounds the size of ponies with razor sharp teeth and claws. He has a beard of golden light and a conical steel helmet with wings at the sides, shining armour and gauntlets and a cape of blood red fire.

**Nordics:** First of the Immortals. They are strongest in Angel-Magics of Fire and Lightning. Most resided in the ancient city of Nordhel during the Dawn of the Age of Chaos or in surrounding lands, as well as a few northern Green Border cities ruled by the three sons of Tobin Fire-Heart, including the new Nordic King, Turin. The Nordics consider themselves the first defence against the Shadow and his minions.

**Nymloc:** Demons of the East Lands, scaled skin like black tar, fang shaped eyes of red flame. They have the skulls of black rams with long thick fangs and sharp black teeth. They sometimes wear armour of crimson fire and bear shields, spears, or swords, though their claws make them deadly even without weapons.

**Odin's Harp:** The Harp of Souls, the Daghda Harp, crafted by Odin during the First Age, to summon the Heroes of Will, who are bound to the Shield of Fire by the Hero Chain. These Heroes have been reborn countless times throughout history, sometimes retaining memories and abilities from past lives.

**Rahkwel:** The first goblins, taller than most mortals, usually in tribes of five to ten thousand living in caves or deserted kingdoms and cities. Rahkwel are frightened of the forests as the Dremelden rule these places and hunt any Rahkwel that cross their borders. Olive green skin with large golden eyes, they usually wear leathers and armour of browns, greens and greys and carry long bows and swords, axes, tridents or spears.

**Resting Point:** Enchanted weapons or artefacts and relics in which the Great Angels or Battle Angels reside, these Resting Points provide a storage area for _ki'mera_ orbs that can be used to further enhance Angel-Magics of a Battle Angel, or an enchanted item, or the wielder of the item or Battle Angel.

**RinHannen, Elarja:** A miraculous immortal man rescued by Carl Wilder, the history and extent of his powers are at first a mystery that intrigues the Sons of Odin. Also known as the Timestrider, he crafted the Four Time Stones from precious jewels that allow him to manipulate and even travel forwards or backwards through time. Elarja is an ancient legend during the Age of Chaos, as he was imprisoned for millennia in another realm. Elarja was most famous in the old stories for travelling back in time to rescue ancient heroes before they were killed in battle, bringing them to future Ages to aid him in his eternal struggle against the Jinn-Lord. Elarja noted as each of these heroes later died under suspicious circumstances, that the Angel of Death must have been seeking them out, to restore balance to the Great Cycle.

**Rohjor:** There are four Rohjor's in Kismeria, that of the White Snow Fox, the Black Shadow Wolf, the Red Fire Lion, and the Blue Water Dragon. These sigils of power are also the sigils of the three Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor, Jean Fairsythe being the White Snow Fox. The sigils of the four Rohjor's are often worn by Alit'aren and Ael Tarael as cloak pins, belt buckles and sometimes entire sigils embroidered on the back of cloaks or across the chest plates of armour. Servants and soldiers also bear these sigils on their shields, weapons and sometimes their clothing. The Rohjor's are the four Covens of the Army of the Light. Even the Great Angels are considered a political player in the dealings of the Rohjor's, though they do not attempt to commit to any Rohjor by personal choice.

**Ruhalden:** Sea Immortals. Usually sail ships around the coasts of the lands known as the Great Sea to the west, the North Sea and the West Sea. They are strong in Angel-Magic of Water and Air. They are kin to the Great Angels of Water and Air.

**Son of Odin:** Title given to Adem Highlander, Carl Wilder and Wil Martyr, the three witnesses to ghosts on Earth, who are transported to the world of Kismeria, where they bring the taint that infects _teron_ , the male half of Angel-Magic. The taint was embedded in the souls of the Sons of Odin when they faced those ghosts on Earth. These events have been a part of prophecy in Kismeria since the First Age.

**Souljhin:** Drakmohr, Swordsmen of the Shadow, Shadow Riders, demon-men. They wear dark _racinthen_ armour of overlapping plates with hooded cloaks of shadows. They have pasty white skin, pointed ears and dark seed shaped eyes filled with menace and hatred for the immortals and mortals. They wield dark swords that glow with a blood red fire and ride dark stallions known as Shadow Steeds.

**Tanriel:** Battle Angel to Jean Fairsythe and Great Angel of the High Realm. She unleashes spears of crimson flame that release sheets of yellow-orange fire that fan out sideways to destroy demon flesh or the spears release red lightning when they hit a target. Tanriel always appears with wings of coloured light and shining armour that can change in colour each time she is released from her Resting Point.

**Tarz, Rodriel:** Amongst those who lead the Alit'aren rebels who have abandoned the Armies of the Light, to avoid the restrictions of Carl Wilder's decree that outlaws male wielding. This law was made to avoid the destruction of the Alit'aren by limiting the effects of the corruption on _teron_. Tarz is a tall immortal with short dark hair and large dark eyes. He is senior in the ranks of male wielders and considered a dangerous adversary. When the Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor return to Kismeria, Tarz is the new leader of the Forsaken force of wielders, expertly trained in wielding the Dark Arts throughout the Age of Chaos, as well as the tainted and corrupted male and female halves of Angel-Magic. Forsaken use _elykrario_ crystals to absorb much of the corruption associated with wielding Angel-Magic and the Dark Arts during that Age and become a people of wealth due to their trade of the precious crystals. Forsaken warriors are also perhaps the greatest Agnars and Brendas in the Free Lands. Most often they wear the dark garb and armour of the ghoda'sidhe, with _elykrario_ studding their breastplates, gauntlets and shin guards or greaves.

**Terael:** The female half of Angel-Magic, from which Ael Tarael wield the Lord's Power. Terael is considered the calmer of the two halves of Angel-Magic, although it can be overwhelming in its allure. Feeling _terael_ flow through the wielder is described as immense warmth, bliss, calmness mixed with thrilling sensations although extreme cold can also be sensed at times when wielding the female half of Angel-Magic. _Terael_ became corrupted with the vampire curse of via Druantia, Hayley Martyr's Battle Angel during the Dawn of the Age of Chaos. Through studies of this corruption, the Ael Tarael Lira Tolnock discovered the potential for wielding the Dark Arts to control the minds of demons in battle. Demon mind control and other forms of Jinn-Magic; can be attributed to studies and techniques used by male wielders, using the male half of Angel-Magic known as _teron_.

**Teron:** The male half of Angel-Magic, from which Alit'aren wield the Lord's Power. The feeling of _teron_ is described as incredible heat and extreme cold flowing through the veins of the wielder. _Teron_ is also considered the wilder and more volatile of the two halves of Angel-Magic, described as an avalanche of ice or a volcano of fire, wielders are often fighting for their lives to control their grip on Angel-Magic to avoid being severed from _teron_ or causing harm to others by lashing out with Angel-Magic. _Teron_ became tainted with Angel-Magic of the Jinn-Lord when the three Sons of Odin arrived in Kismeria. The Sons of Odin were infected with the taint during a haunting by male and female ghosts at a place called Bright on Earth. This taint is often called the Darkness or the Sickness by immortals of Kismeria, referring to the effect of madness upon the minds of the three Sons of Odin, Adem Highlander being the most obviously affected of the three. This taint began the corruption upon the minds of male wielders, resulting in the Age of Chaos lasting over a thousand years.

**Torvellen:** Tanned skinned immortals, usually with dark hair and eyes. They are strongest in Angel-Magics of Earth. They are kin to the Great Angels of Earth, stone and Fire. Tarvel is their main city.

**Vypain:** Great Ape descendant: turned to demon form by the Jinn-Lord. Usually covered in a grey fur, sharp black claws and talons for feet, used to grip tree branches, these demons cast balls of red flame from tree perches, bark like dogs with cat's yellow eyes, rams' horns, and a maw full of fangs. They are predators and hunters of forest game, with a fondness for wild boar. The Pack Leaders of these demons are much larger males, known as _morgrahs_ , capable of wielding fire balls that leave small craters on impact.

**Wood Kin:** Dremelden warriors who wield Lukrorian Bows though they have not attained the level of Agnar, so they do not attain the title of Aldebrand or Archer. They wear the _torin'sidhe_ , camouflage clothing of greens, browns and greys. They are exceptional hunters and trackers and are expertly skilled with the bow and arrow.

