 
### Veegal's Wall

### Book 1 of the Lost Saga

### Published by Adam L McCullough

### Copyright 2011 Adam McCullough

### Smashwords Edition, License Notes

### This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

### Any errors in this ebook are the fault of the author alone.

### This book is dedicated to my lovely and patient wife.

### Prologue

He ran, legs powered by fear and desperation. Far behind him the village of Galnath burned, its citizens being raped and butchered long after surrender. He himself had only been set free for sport, a fox to be hunted down after the mercenaries left behind by Duke Harriman's army tired of seeing the townsfolk properly subdued.

All of eastern Eebrook knew the Dukes rise to power came with the blood of his beloved father. Many villages stood in protest, petitioning the King Argile to step in, but the petty Lords that supported James Harriman moved swiftly to quiet the discontent. Most villages quickly backed down as military power was brought to bear to quell any attempts to rebel until soon Galnath stood alone. Galnath village elders realizing the support of other townships had waivered and with no response from the royal court tried to surrender, but they were too late. As the last shred of resistance to the tyrannical Duke Harriman it was decided an example had to be made.

Not even the army captain in charge of the raid could stomach what had been ordered. Instead he left the dastardly deeds in the hands of a band of sell swords known for its raids on small outposts and trade caravans at the behest of feuding lords.

None of these things mattered to a ten year old. All he knew was his world was ending. Father had been killed during the raid, his mother being taken into one of the few buildings left standing even has his bonds were cut. He wanted so much to be brave, to rush to his mother's aid, but she pleaded with him to run even as she was being forced inside. Finally fear and reason won out over bravery and he ran.

His bare feet bleed from abuse by the rough rock terrain, legs and lungs burned from exertion. So lost in his blind fear induced flight that he did not see the stocky form stepping out in front of him until it was too late.

With a solid thud he crashed full force into the man, the force of the collision knocking him back on his rear. Wild with fear he back peddled on his hands and feet until his back came up against a tree. Fear gave way to awe as he took in the form before him.

Stocky, built like a bull with a long braided red beard with shoulder length unkempt hair, a bulbous nose set between keen eyes, and a menacing two handed axe slung across his shoulder he was an intimidating sight. He was also the first dwarf the boy had ever seen. Behind the dwarf was a line of twelve men each armed and carrying bundles of fur across their shoulders.

The dwarf stepped closer and planted his axe, head down, and rested with both hands upon the weapons haft. "Who are you lad, and what seems to be the hurry?"

The boy took a couple of deep calming breaths after realizing these were not the same men he fled. "Dredrik," the boy finally managed to stammer "Dredrik Airasmau and we need your help."

### Chapter 1

"Dredrik Airasmau startled awake, hand instinctively seeking out the long sword he always kept at his side. The familiar stocky form of a dwarf stood over him, the red glow of the tents fire pit reflecting dimly off his battered steel plate armor. "Wikkid?" Dredrik questioned as he blinked away the sleep from his eyes, mind processing the fact that his friend was in full war gear.

"Time to get up lad," the dwarves heavily accented voice calm but hurried, "King Argile has summoned us."

Dredrik rose from his pallet, the air cool out from beneath the blankets despite the roaring fire, envious of the other men still sleeping soundly. The last few weeks had been harsh to say the least due to extreme winter weather and the lack of rest as the royal army marched to press its advantage and deny Duke Harriman's men to properly prepare for siege.

"Problems?" he asked as he fastened his sword belt.

Wikkid shrugged, "Dunno, has been a lot of activity in the camp. Elmar's Dragoons started packing camp a few hours ago. By the looks of it they are marshaling for a long march, beasts loaded heavy, not light for combat. Delwrench mercenaries are starting to rouse, and word is Madril is with the king now.

"How about the royal army, do they rouse as well?" Dredrik asked as he grabbed his great coat from his armor tree.

"No," was Wikkid's simple reply as he led Dredrik outside.

A stiff northern wind gusted through the camp swirling the heavily falling snow which was accumulating quickly on the frozen turf. The sky toward the east seemed to be lightening as if dawn was on the verge of breaking leaving Dredrik wondering how long he had slept.

"No, you're not seeing things, and it's only just past second bell," Wikkid said. "Eertu has been at camps edge hours before the glow began. That magically attuned mind of his seems to be picking up on something."

"And you did not wake me sooner?"

"Is the first sleep you have gotten in two days, I figured if we be heading toward trouble it would be best if you could stay on your feet."

Dredrik simply nodded having learned many years ago there was no arguing with the dwarf. Silently he led them toward the army's main camp. Things were as Wikkid had said, men running about, tents being disassembled, pack animals loaded. None seemed to move with a sense of urgency. In fact most were jovial, laughing and joking among themselves as they went about their preparations.

Once they passed into the royal army's encampment things were completely different. Besides the normal night watches strolling about, and servants performing the many tasks needed to keep the camp in order most of the soldiers remained soundly asleep in tents oblivious to the bustle of the outlying encampments.

King Argile's pavilion had been set up at the center of camp, a multi room construction that from the outside appeared to be three large tents connected together. Banners of the king fluttered high upon each sections center pole. Soldiers stood guard at every possible entrance unmoving and vigilant. Judging by the trampled condition of the snow there was much recent foot traffic in and out of the main portal.

Knight Captain Uldred met them just outside dressed for battle in the shinning ornamental armor of the King's guard, his face a mast of concern and weariness. "Dredrik, Wikkid, it is good to see you one last time."

For over three years Dredrik and Wikkid had lead the warriors of the 'Lost" tribes in service of the king. Many battles alongside the King's guard, a good amount of them loosing efforts and never had Dredrik seen Uldred so distraught. "What troubles you old friend?"

"As you well know," Uldred began his voice barely above a whisper, "the king surrounds himself with seers, telepaths, and many other forms of advisors. Argile himself is able to manipulate events in his mind to see how different decisions play out."

Dredrik and Wikkid both nodded their acknowledgements. The King, as all males in his blood line was considered extremely accurate with the gift of foresight, a useful gift for individuals trying to maintain power.

"Tonight he has had a vision, one that seems to have disturbed him deeply. He has not confided its contents to me, but he immediately called all his advisors together. Since then two seers have gone mad with rage attacking all within reach, and several telepaths have had their connections with their bond mates severed. None too gently if their screams were any indicator. The deaths that followed must surly have been merciful. Now the King orders away any who are not part of the main army paying for services fulfilled and sending them toward Veegal's Wall. Not just mercenaries but reserves pulled from small towns and villages. I'm afraid he has gone mad."

"What of us?" asked Wikkid. "We are not simply sell swords. We took an oath to defend this nation in return for a place the tribes can call home."

"I do not know, the King does not tell me his mind. I must go now. I am to lead a scout force east. The King has forbid it but the Generals wish it and I agree with them. In case we never meet again God speed gentlemen." With that Uldred departed company and disappeared into the swirling snow.

"God speed," Dredrik whispered and entered the pavilion. In the first room generals and strategist surrounded a long rectangular table which was covered in its entirety by a huge map of eastern Eebrook. On the map sat different pieces representing various troop movements. He and Wikkid had sat in on many such meetings and immediately noticed all the markers representing mercenary and reserve troops had been moved back to Veegal's Wall. That is except for the one representing the men of the Lost. Wikkid and Dredrik passed through without so much as a nod from those assembled and entered the pavilion's main room.

Only King Argile was present sitting alone on a wooden throne at the far end near a roaring fire. Not an old man by any means the normally stout and boisterous man sat slumped, his deep red royal robes hanging loosely on his body. It seemed that old age had found the man overnight. His dark black hair was now streaked with silver same as his beard and his normally full face was gaunt and pale.

Dredrik and Wikkid kneeled in front of the throne. "Milord," they spoke in unison.

"Rise gentlemen," Argile said. He waited until the two men stood then leaned forward resting his elbows on his legs. "Over these past few years your soldiers have served far above and beyond what was required. On several occasions your troop turned the tide of battle when my own failed. Now I am afraid the time has come for us to part company so I have called you here to settle the agreements between the Lost tribes and Eebrook.

Wikkid and Dredrik exchanged surprised glances. Duke Harriman's forces were on the run, and it was true Argile's own army should be more than enough to finish the job, but siege warfare was dangerous work. It made no sense for Argile to be relieving units from duty. Despite their shared confusion neither spoke.

If Argile noticed the exchange he did not acknowledge it. "You two approached me with a unique offer. You did not ask for gold or titles, rather a piece of land on which your people could call home within Eebrook, to become full-fledged citizens once again. I am afraid however that I will not be able to carry out that promise."

Dredrik's heart sank. With those words all the bloodshed and lives of his men had been in vain. The sting of betrayal began to set in as Argile continued to speak.

"Instead I offer this. In one of our past wars we were given an Island as concessions. It's huge, easily the size of Eastern Eebrook. Its remoteness along with other contributing factors has kept us from securing the whole of the island. None of the nobles have had interest in undertaking the venture even with the promise of extended lands and greater influence. We do maintain a small fortress on its eastern coast manned by a small compliment of soldiers, their families, and a few brave farmers and craftsman who help maintain the outpost. They are there simply to keep an eye on the place and fly the flag. Taming these lands will not be easy but I trust if the tribes unite in the endeavor you will be successful. This island called Rhonin I give directly to you, King Dredrik Airasmau.

Dredrik found himself stunned into silence. The offer was more than he or his people ever dreamed. Immediately it occurred to him there would be troubles. He himself was not even a clan leader in his own adopted tribe, a first generation member. The price for first generation membership was lifetime service to the tribes. Not to mention he had no desire to rule.

Argile seemed to read Dredrik's mind. "It is you who must rule. That is one of the strict edicts of my generosity. I also know you would like to keep your oath and fight with me till the Duke's armies lie in ruins. Rest assured Lord Airasmau, by tomorrow morning Harriman's forces will be of no consequence. In fact his armies will be sorely missed."

"What is it that troubles you so?" Wikkid asked.

Argile stood from his throne, a sheathed sword in hand as he stepped down from the small pedestal to stand directly in front of the pair. "A great doom is about to sweep across this land, and no force of arms will stand against it. I have seen this, fed different actions into my dreams to weigh different outcomes, and the events I set into motion now are the best I have foreseen. Do not try to argue with me, my generals have already tried."

"Yes Milord," they both said in unison.

Argile nodded satisfied that he was not questioned further. "Now there is one last detail, a request from one king to another. When you leave these lands take my son and daughter with you. In time the evil that comes may be beaten back and the throne restored. Until then I would like to know my children are safe."

"I... of course Milord," Dredrik stammered. "If you are sure that is what is necessary."

"It is Lord Airasmau." Argile held out the sword he carried with him. "This blade has been passed down from father to son since the formation of Eebrook, now it passes to my son. He has already been taught how to use it, I leave it in your hands to teach him when as Wikkid did you."

Dredrik accepted the weapon and bowed slightly, "Milord."

"Call me that no more Dredrik, you either Wikkid. Natall, bring me the papers."

A servant appeared from a side room clutching a handful of scrolls. Quickly he handed them over to Argile then slunk away.

"These documents are all you will need," Argile said as he handed the scrolls to Dredrik. "Deed to Rhonin including lordship of the established outpost and all who live and serve within, orders for my family to be placed in your care, and a treasury note of not just gold but supplies you may need along with orders for the navy to see you and your people delivered to your new home. He held out his hand to both men and each shook his in turn. "You two have been great counsel, good friends, and good company and it saddens me to send you away but both of you have a greater destiny to fulfill. See to it that my faith in the two of you is well founded."

Wikkid and Dredrik bowed one last time. When they arose King Argile walked away retreating to a deeper chamber calling for his war gear.

### Chapter 2

"You know Uldred may have been right, perhaps Argile has gone mad." Dredrik said as he secured his saddle upon his black warhorse. He now donned black plate armor with a griffin etched upon the chest plate traced in dark red. His helm was removed and secured upon his mount along with his shield which was also similarly adorned as his armor.

The appearance of his armor along with his name and fighting reputation of his men had earned his troop the moniker of the Dread Legion. One hundred and sixty three out of three hundred and forty two men were all that remained of the men that marched to war from the various tribes in King Argile's name. Hardly a legion, but the men had latched on to the title so Dread Legion it was.

Dredrik still tried to fathom how he would get all eight of the tribes to stand under one banner. Originally there was one tribe united as outcasts from society, but as the numbers swelled it became increasingly hard to find enough food and resources to feed the masses so a decision was made by the elders to split into smaller nomadic tribes in order to lower the strain on any given area where they made camp.

After leaving Argile's tent Dredrik and Wikkid had roused the men. Within an hour the Legion had packed camp and stood ready to depart. However they would not be leaving as one unit. The men would split up and head to their respective tribes to gather their people at Delentray to await the ships Argile had promised to carry the tribes to their new home. A smile crossed his lips at the thought of the panic the self-proclaimed duke of the rogue city would endure when a Eebrookian fleet sailed into his port.

Dredrik and Wikkid would go to Calington to gather King Argile's family and secure the aid promised. Of course Eertu and Hadrenn had volunteered to accompany them.

"Of course he's mad," Hadrenn replied mockingly. "He made you a king," Hadrenn mounted his dirty white warhorse, his long black hair and beard frosted by the still falling snow. He wore chain mail underneath a long black overcoat, a large claymore slung across his back. "King of an island that there is little known of and which we may or may not have to conquer when we arrive, personally I think it is a ploy to rid his lands of us while still keeping his promises."

Dredrik considered what Hadrenn had said. Hailing from a nation of barbarians in the far flung northern lands he often stated exactly what was on his mind even if he softened his opinions with jesting undertones and sarcasm. "Perhaps, but it's a chance I'm willing to take. I don't know about the rest of you but I'm tired of either selling my sword to the highest bidder of scavenging just to get by. I say we do this errand then maybe, just maybe we finally earn a chance to settle down somewhere."

"Aye," Wikkid agreed, "our people deserve a place where we are not constantly harassed, murdered and looked down upon as vagrants. It will be a struggle I'm sure, but am certain the end result will be worth the effort."

"And what of Argile's appointment of me as king? Are you not more worthy than me old friend?"

"Don't you lay those responsibilities at my feet lad. I did not spend all that time and energy turning you into the man you are just to have you imprison me with a title. This plan to earn us respect and a home was yours. I believe Argile chose well."

"I agree," Hadrenn said. "Besides all you have to do is divide up the land among the other tribal leaders, bestow them with title and rights I'm sure they will come around."

"Dredrik," Eertu spoke for the first time since the order to break camp came through. "Look to the east."

All the members of the party steered their mounts eastward. The dull dusk-like glow still remained in the eastern horizon as it had all night. "What are we looking at?" Hadrenn asked.

"Wait for it," Eertu replied. "I can feel it, a great power is building to the point of release. I've never felt anything remotely like it."

In a brilliant flash the dull glow from the east turned to day followed by rolling thunder that continued for many seconds. As the light faded a dull glowing green haze took hold of the horizon. Slowly the glow grew brighter and brighter until it hurt the eyes. Men from all over the camp scrambled to find a better view of the spectacle. Then as quickly as it had happened the night sky turned to normal, the red hue of fires many leagues away now barely visible.

Eertu sunk to his knees, head swarming with dizziness, nausea threatening to overtake him. Dredrik, Wikkid, and Hadrenn all dismounted and came to Eertu's aid.

"Easy lad," Wikkid encouraged taking the bulk of Eertu's weight as the warlock fought to regain his footing.

"We must go there Dredrik," Eertu gasped. "We must see what happened. If for no other reason than to discover what we may face in the future we must go there."

"Go east? Have you gone mad as well?" Hadrenn asked. "Forgetting what we just saw there is the small matter of the Dukes army. I doubt we'd be greeted with open arms not matter what the circumstances."

"Dredrik," Eertu pleaded. "If what King Argile told you is true, then the Dukes army will not be there."

Dredrik gave pause to look out across the eastern horizon. "What is it you expect we'll find?"

Eertu shrugged. "I do not know, but there is a presence in that direction that I can feel. I need to get closer and see if I can make any sense of it. After an investigation I can check the archives at Calington when we arrive and see if I can make sense of it."

"What do you think Wikkid, head east and take a peak, or go west and seek our fortune?"

"I could tell you what I think, but I'd bet my last sovereign you've already made up your mind. Don't you worry none, if I thought you were leading us needlessly to our dooms I'd be the first to tell you."

"East isn't it?" Hadrenn asked. "Of course it's east," he continued when Dredrik failed to respond. "Well we came all this way to see the Dukes army broken we might as well finish the trip."

### Chapter 3

"Still think this was a good idea?" Hadrenn kicked over a charred corpse which had been leaning against a burnt out wagon.

Bodies, some charred others having suffered obvious combat wounds along with the burnt remains of the encampment littered the cratered landscape. The snow so thick in the region after the last two nights of storms was nowhere to be found in or around the camp. Ash and smoke swirled around greatly limiting their vision as a light breeze persistently blew about the area fanning embers and causing new fires to flare up.

It had taken the party just over a day and a half to reach the enemy camp, the sun already low in the western sky. They were tired and hungry, but urgency drove them to ride through without rest, drinking and snacking on dried meats as they rode. The last few miles had to be tread cautiously as they had no idea what they would find.

"Never said it was," Dredrik replied as he squatted down near a body to examine its wounds. "This one was killed by one of his own. The arrows in his body are identical to the ones in their own archers' quivers."

"Aye and there are no clear battle lines," Wikkid added. "Looks like warrior turned upon warrior, must have been some melee by the looks of it."

"Dredrik," Eertu called out from his search. "Over here, I've found Uldred."

Unable to see Eertu through the smoke Dredrik hurried toward the voice. The extra exertion forcing him to breathe more of the polluted air causing him to go into a coughing fit by the time he found Eertu.

The warlock stood before a post driven into the ground, the body tied to it was wearing the unmistakable armor of King Argile's personal guard. The front of the armor had been ripped open, jagged edges protruding inward and the man gutted. Dredrik could not imagine the force it took to rend the heavy armor like that, but by the expression frozen on Uldred's face he was probably alive when it happened.

Dredrik forced himself to examine the mutilated body of his friend further. "This was recent, maybe less than two or three hours, long after the slaughter that happened here. It is a good bet we are not alone out here. As thick as this air is a person could remain invisible no more than thirty paces away."

With his own words ringing in his ears Dredrik's eyes began darting about fearing that Eertu's call had alerted who or whatever had defiled Uldred to their presence. "Let's regroup with the others, we need to stay within sight of one another and keep quiet."

"I've got a live one here!" Hadrenn's voice rang out.

Eertu and Dredrik both cringed, eyes and ears concentrated on their surroundings. If their presence had gone unnoticed thus far, whatever surprise they had was gone now. Footsteps crunched nearby in the direction of Hadrenn's yell. Dredrik motioned for Eertu to follow quietly.

Hadrenn swore as he turned the soldier onto its back after having literally tripped over the person causing a moan from what he thought was another corpse. Quickly he removed the soldier's helmet to reveal a beautiful face framed by long wavy red hair. He put his ear near the young woman's face to listen and feel for breathing then cried out, "I've got a live one here!" A quick examination found multiple cuts and gashes through her leathers and into her body, her quiver was empty and the blade she still held in her right hand bloodied. Whoever she was she went down fighting and by the arrangement of the bodies around her had taken a great many of her attackers down before being rendered unconscious. He picked up the helmet and found a dent in the back, probably from a hammer. He tossed down the steel cap and found a matching bump on the back of the woman's head.

Looking around he found a tabard torn off of some pour soul within arm's reach and began cutting it into strips to use as bandages. No sooner had he began unbuckling her cuirass the woman's eyes popped open.

"No!" she tried to scream but her voice came out hoarsely. Her right arm shot up, the small dagger still in hand stabbing toward Hadrenn's face.

Startled Hadrenn and let out a surprised scream as instincts honed by many battles kicked in. He barely managed to block her weak strike then punched her in the forehead with his right fist knocking her once again unconscious.

"Um, crap," he mumbled to himself. "That's not gonna help you any." He sighed, shrugged then continued to remover the chest piece when he heard footsteps in front of him. "She's pretty banged up but I think she'll be fine. She's got a couple of bumps, one on the back of the head, and one on her forehead."

He looked up expecting to find one of his mates only to find a huge plate armor clad figure with a horned helmet standing over him. A huge two handed axe was raised over the warriors head ready to strike. He tried to jump back out of range but even then he knew it was too late as the great axe fell toward him.

Dredrik let out a ferocious battle cry as he threw out his shield arm deflecting the blow that would surely have cleaved Hadrenn's head in two. The impact of the axe against his shield jarred his entire body as the blow was redirected. However the momentum forced Dredrik to spin around smashing his shield into Hadrenn knocking the man on his backside. Quickly Dredrik regained his footing just in time to parry a second blow with his long sword. The hulking warrior swung the great axe with a speed and agility of a man possessed. It took the effort of both shield and blade to fend off the flurry of attacks the unknown assailant delivered.

Finally he managed to deflect a powerfully delivered glancing blow with his shield allowing him to spin to the side. As the over powered strike carried the warrior off balance Dredrik reversed the grip on his sword driving the blade through the unarmored gap beneath his attackers left arm pit forcing his blade through ribs into his opponents heart.

Even as the first warrior fell Dredrik found himself facing another wearing chain mail wielding a short sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. Before the man could strike a ball of white hot energy struck him in the back. The man screamed then collapsed to the ground mid stride. Dredrik nodded thanks to Eertu while scanning for another target.

A slight figure wearing a tattered kilt, no top, a necklace of bone, head shaven faced him hands aglow with magical energies took aim at Dredrik. Dredrik looked for cover but none existed. Magical energies leapt from the shaman's hands striking Dredrik full in the chest. Pain encompassed all as he felt himself lifted and thrown back to the ground with a bone crushing jolt.

Eertu summoned his next spell, his own energies building up for release. The shaman faced Eertu and opened his mouth wide. Eertu's head spun out of control, dizziness and nausea gripping him as it had in King Argile's camp as a blood curdling noise bellowed forth followed by a flash of light similar to the one observed the night before which emanated from the casters eyes.

Eertu found himself paralyzed by the sensations running through his body. Dredrik lay unmoving on the ground. Hadrenn was back on his feet yet too far away to deal with the shaman. Eertu knew he had to fight through for the sake of them all but was then hit with a feeling of despair then thoughts of turning his powers against his comrades began to force their way into his mind. Desperately he fought these feelings, his resistance eroding quickly when from the corner of his eye he saw a blur of motion.

Wikkid had heard Hadrenn's call and abandoned his own search to lend aid. As he drew near Dredrik's warcry rang out, the familiar sound of steel upon steel echoed through the smoke. Franticly he raced toward the battle unslinging his axe, legs carrying him as quickly as they could. After what felt like an eternity he was close enough to see through the haze. Dredrik was down, Eertu on his knees, Hadrenn up but wobbly. Two more warriors appeared from the smoke, these clad in a mix of fur and leather. Both men were larger than even Hadrenn bearing large war hammers. Those Wikkid ignored, the shaman was the more immediate threat.

Fixing his gaze upon the shaman he could see the magic wielder was taking aim on Hadrenn. Tendrils of energy began to stream from the shamans hands as weaved the intricate hand gestures needed for casting. Desperately he closed the gap in one huge leap swinging his axe down from high above his head. The shaman's head split like a melon as the axe drove deep into the man's torso.

He glanced around in time to see Hadrenn, claymore in hand, putting all his might into a wide swing parrying a deadly war hammer strike. Hadrenn used the momentum of his powerful swing to carry his mighty weapon around into a counter attack which caught his assailant at the waist separating torso from hips in a spray of blood and gore.

Eertu's entire body shivered. Whatever power that had come over him was now gone. His senses returned the foreign thoughts that had forced their way into his mind now pushed aside. Released from his torment he looked for somebody to take his anger out on. One remaining warrior stood over Dredrik. The hulking man swung his hammer in a powerful downward stroke. Somehow Dredrik was able to bring his shield up just in time to deflect the deadly blow.

Eertu knew he had to act fast as he began chanting and making patterns in the air with his hands. Bolts of pure energy shot from Eertu's fingertips fueled by hate, anger, and frustration striking the warrior in mid swing. There was a primal howl of pain as the warrior's flesh disintegrated from existence. The warriors clothing hung in the air for a split second then fell as gravity took over, the massive hammer bouncing harmlessly off the ground near Dredrik's head.

Dredrik screamed, his chest felt like it was on fire. He glanced at his chest to find the chest plate glowing red hot were the blunt of the shaman's attack had struck. Franticly he cast his shield aside and began grasping for the buckles but his gauntleted hands unable to find purchase. The pain was becoming unbearable, his mind close to panic.

Wikkid raced to Dredrik's side. "Hold still," he said releasing the straps then removing the steel cuirass and tossing the front piece away. Wikkid used his dagger to cut open Dredrik's jerkin then pealed it open.

Dredrik groaned through clenched teeth as skin pulled away with the leather in the most burned area of his chest.

Eertu joined them, took one look at Dredrik's burns and began rummaging through his pouch until he pulled out a glass container. Dredrik could feel the pain subsiding as Eertu applied the ointment. "This will help until we can get you to a healer, until then there is not much I can do. I know that spell, and you should be dead."

"Death would hurt far less," Dredrik said as he reached his hand toward Eertu. "Help me up." Eertu grasped his wrist and pulled him to his feet. Despite himself Dredrik moaned again. "We've got to get out of here, out of this smoke. Hadrenn, is that survivor still alive?"

"Yes, was about to bandage her up when I got jumped."

"Her?" both Eertu and Dredrik questioned. It was not uncommon for women to serve as soldiers in the tribes, but in the major armies it was usually not allowed. However there were always exceptions.

"It will have to wait till we are clear of here," Dredrik said. "Somebody will come looking for these five soon."

Quickly and quietly the party built a makeshift stretcher. Wikkid and Hadrenn bore the stretcher while Eertu stuck close to Dredrik carrying his shield and sword expecting him to collapse at any moment. Stubbornly Dredrik drug his charred and abused cuirass by the buckles refusing to leave behind any part of the armor that had once belonged to his father.

After some time they made it back to their horses, set up the stretcher to pull behind Eertu's horse then made their way to the top of a hillside a couple of miles away that overlooked the valley which Duke Harriman's last stronghold sat just as dusk was setting in. What they saw none of them had expected. The mighty fortress city was under siege on all sides. It was hard to make out any real details in the low light but the size of the host pressing toward the walls was great.

"I wonder what they are waiting for," Hadrenn thought out loud. "They are just standing there."

"I do not see any siege engines," Wikkid added. Even with those numbers those stone walls will be impenetrable."

"Eertu," Dredrik said as he sat down leaning back against a tall oak. "Think you can get a better look?"

"Maybe," Eertu replied, "if they are not using wards against such magic."

Eertu sat on the ground legs crossed and began chanting quietly. He reached out, first touching the minds of lower orders jumping in and out of the minds of common troops seeing what there was to see from each individual's eyes until he made contact with a mind close to a raised platform set up directly in line with the fortress's main gate. There were no walls, only four support pillars and a cloth roof under which stood a sorcerer of incredible power in elaborate robes, a silver staff held tightly in his right hand. Eertu was sure this man was the source of the great presence he had felt the other night. Around the sorcerer stood four shaman garbed similarly to the one they had fought earlier.

Directly behind the platform was a tent. A strong consciousness emanated from the tent as if many minds were linked as one. Eertu wanted to explore further but mindsight required visual contact. He could jump from a mind into the tent, but he could not control an individual into moving to a better vantage point.

In front of the covered platform stood two imposing warriors, the first was a large man in solid black plate elaborately decorated with glyphs of silver that Eertu did not recognize. Judging by the warrior's aura he was not a man to be trifled with. The second warrior wore shining mail armor. When he spoke others around him reacted immediately.

Taking one last look through the eyes of his host the number of magic wielders hit him. In this one army was more magically gifted souls than existed in all Eebrook. Also a second revelation hit him, one of great importance. Starting to feel his hold over the current mind fade returned to his own.

"There are many people of note down there," Eertu said. "I sensed a lot of magic and powerful auras. There could be as many as a hundred casters."

"That's not good," Wikkid said, "a handful can take out an army, hundreds would be nearly invincible."

"There is one more disturbing note. Many of the soldiers in the sieging army bore the emblems of service to Duke Harriman. I could not tell if there was any controlling presence driving them, but in our encounter earlier the shaman had managed to place suggestions into my mind bidding me to turn against you all. But there being so many, I cannot imagine enough directed magic to keep such numbers under control."

Wikkid pulled out a chunk of dried meat from his pack and tore off a good bite with his teeth. "Fits with what we've found in the camp, soldiers falling upon each other. If this is some of the tings Argile saw in his visions, then it's no wonder he started sending troops away."

A barely audible chant began in the distance, words no one in the party could understand. The chant grew in volume and vigor, slowly at first then at a much greater pace until the sky turned to a glowing green above the fortress. With the sound of rolling thunder fiery balls of light fell from the sky raining down upon the fortress. Walls exploded, gates shattered, roofs collapsed. The chant exploded into a loud cheer.

Even from their vantage point nearly a mile away they could see the gaping holes punched into the once impregnable walls. Dredrik was just about to suggest they leave when the banners of King Argile crested the western ridge. The last rays of daylights glistened off of Argile's cavalry as darkness closed in.

King Argile was the first over the ridge, his body ached, thirst and hunger taking their toll but there was no time to regroup. 'This is how it has to be,' he thought to himself. In his visions he had seen one chance to end this nightmare before it could truly begin. The legions from his dreams were now distracted, the bulk of its forces pouring into the city leaving the leaders lightly defended. Surprise and speed were their only hope now.

Argile drew his sword raising it above his head as a signal to the host of riders. As planned the faster riders rode forward lances at the ready forming a fighting wedge, a spearhead to thrust into the enemies relatively unprotected flanks. He had no illusions of living through the battle but knew in his heart that this was his one true fate.

Even as the formation charged recklessly down the hillside the enemies' rear guard began forming a defensive line. Archer's readied their bows waiting for his cavalry to reach their kill zone.

"Mages!" one of Argile's own mages cried out. "Many of them, we must close the distance!"

"Ride hard men!" Argile prompted as he spurred his own steed. The men responded with a war cry that started near the king and spread throughout the formation like a shockwave.

In response the enemy archers loosed their first salvo, their deadly projectiles arching across the battlefield finding targets with deadly accuracy. Men cried out falling from mounts, horses collapsed onto the frozen turf tripping others behind them. Still the charge sped along chewing up the distance between the two armies until at last the two sides collided. Cavalry lances tore into the few dozen infantrymen that had formed up to protect the ranks of archers. Archers turned and fled only to be ridden down from behind by the Kings men.

Finally Argile could see his target and hope began to swell within his chest. If they could reach the sorcerer upon the platform perhaps the doom he had foreseen could be averted. Without the powers of that one man Eebrook's remaining forces stood on equal footing with the invaders.

Even as Argile's thoughts steered toward victory the sky lit up once again as fire fell from the heavens. The ensuing barrage made the archers merely prelude to the destruction now wrought upon his men. Beast and man alike exploded as death rained down. Many lucky enough to avoid the impacts were set ablaze as the ground near them erupted lighting up the men as if they had been soaked in oil and set to flame.

Still they rode on, the few riders that remained now had their eyes firmly fixed upon their objective. Crossbowmen near the platform loosed their bolts into the remaining cavalry men. Only Argile himself survived. Deftly plucking a spear from his saddle holster he readied his throw guided by years of practice and hurled his weapon with all is might. The spear flew straight and true, its intended victim with no time to move. Abruptly the spear stopped midflight then fell harmlessly bouncing of the platforms wooden floor mere inches from the sorcerer.

Argile's heart sank, his one hope lost. All his thoughts went to his family, his kingdom, and the despair they would all soon endure. But he did not give up. Sword now in hand he urged his warhorse to jump upon the platform determined to take the sorcerer's head at all cost. As the horse reached the apex of its jump he found himself plucked into the air, the canvas roof of the platform blew off as if caught by gale force winds. His mount flew backwards off the platform as if struck by a battering ram.

Helplessly suspended midair Argile could do nothing but watch as the evil from his visions stalked toward him. His sword was still in hand but try as he might he could not move. The smug smile on the man's face sickened him deeply on many indescribable levels.

"Your highness," the man stated in a regal voice not at all like Argile had expected. Mockingly the sorcerer bowed then reached down and hefted Argile's spear from the platform then pressed the tip against Argile's face. "So close," the man said in a condescending tone.

Argile starred back at the sorcerer wishing he could at least manage some last act of defiance but the immobility of the field robbed him of even that. The sorcerer now starred directly into his eyes causing Argile's mind to explode with pain. He desperately wanted to cry out but no sound would come. As quickly as the intrusion came the pain subsided leaving him with a deep throbbing headache.

"Thank you," the sorcerer simply stated. Then in one swift motion thrust Argile's own spear through his throat. "That was all I needed."

King Shamus Argile never fell even as he suffocated on his own blood. The field suspending the king collapsed in upon itself vanishing along with the king's body.

Lord Ecinta Merca ignored the dying king as he walked away from the platform. The old warrior had given up all he knew to the mind probe so easily. Pity, the man had fought so hard to get within striking distance only to die by the hands of the one he had sought to destroy. The memories he had just absorbed began playing through his mind. Childhood, training, love, hate, strife, emotions always came through first. The actual memories would come in time. The sounds of fighting continued to carry out of the city but the outcome of the battle was not in doubt. Mareth and Lord General Kuzzak would see to the duke. His job in the siege had already been accomplished. For now it was time to retire to his tent and shift through his newly acquired memories for his next step.

### Chapter 4

"She's coming to," Eertu stated flatly, "Hadrenn, water please." The young woman moaned as she tried to set up. "Try not to move," Eertu ordered as he helped her lean up against the wall inside the small dilapidated shack they had taken refuge in then accepted the canteen from Hadrenn. "You have been unconscious for some time and your wounds are considerable. Sip this slowly."

The woman swallowed thirstily as Eertu dribbled the cold water in her mouth until she began to choke a bit.

"Enough for the moment," Eertu said as he sat down the canteen.

"It's cold," the woman said hoarsely.

"Apologies, but I am afraid it is too dangerous for a fire."

The woman closed her eyes and took a few slow deep breaths before asking, "Where are we?"

"In an abandoned farm house a little over a day's ride from Montrel," Dredrik replied closing shut the tattered wooden shutters to the buildings only window. "Hungary?"

The woman nodded that she was so Dredrik removed a piece of dried meat from a satchel and handed it to her. "It's not much, but it beats nothing."

She accepted the jerky and bit into it hungrily, "It'll do." She motioned for the canteen which Eertu handed back to her. She washed the morsel down with a long gulp, "My name is Vessa."

"Dredrik, your caretaker there is Eertu, that's Hadrenn sitting in the far corner." Dredrik pointed toward each in turn as he spoke. "Wikkid is outside doing a final sweep of the perimeter."

"So we are hiding out in a rotting hut with no fire. I take it we are in some trouble."

"More than you can possibly imagine." Dredrik paced across the small room and gingerly slid down the wall next to Vessa trying to not aggravate his burns. "It would help if you could tell us what happened at Duke Harriman's war camp."

"The Duke," Vessa repeated. "You must be from Argile's army."

If Vessa felt threatened by that revelation she did not show it. "Formally in the employment of and no you are not a prisoner. I'll explain shortly but we really need to know what happened.

Vessa shook her head. "I'm really not sure. There had been a strange light all night long. It seemed to linger over the camp. People became really tense, nervous. A commotion, no more than a brawl broke out between a pair of hot tempered half-wits. Next thing we knew the people who had tried to break up the fight started to turn on each other. From there it just spread. Almost all who turned on each other had a gleam in their eye, a half mad glint of uncontrollable rage. We thought we were about to gain control of the situation when the sky lit up as if night had turned to day. Streaks of fire rained down upon us." She closed her eyes tightly as if trying to recall a memory. "Then nothing, I must have been knocked cold.

"Just as we witnessed when Montrel fell," Eertu said, "although we are not sure if the same chaos that gripped the camp also took hold of the city."

"Montrel fell!" Vessa tried to jump to her feet but dizziness forced her back down. "That's not possible, not that quickly. Montrel should have been able to hold off Argile's forces for weeks."

"Months," Eertu said, "but it was not the Kings army that took Montrel. Eertu looked toward Dredrik

Dredrik gave a slight nod "Show her."

"This might feel a bit odd. I am going to show you what I saw. It is not painful, just disorienting. May I?"

"You may."

Eertu locked eyes with Vessa. They both fell into a trancelike state for several moments until Eertu broke the connection.

Vessa was breathing hard, adrenaline surging through her veins after having just felt the emotions and experiences of the day from the encounter at the war camp to the siege of Montrel. That's... impossible. That much magic would take a being infinitely more powerful than anything ever recorded.

"We estimate over a hundred magic wielders," Eertu said. "One seemed to be far more powerful than the rest."

"At first light we will continue on to Veegal's Wall," Dredrik said. "It should take some time for this new threat to advance that far west. Add in the time it should take them to secure their supply lines we should arrive quickly enough to warn them well ahead of the advance. Maybe they can conjure up a defense."

The door creaked open and Wikkid stepped through the entrance. Fresh snow covered his helm and shoulders, his beard frosted. The dwarf nodded a greeting as he shut the door behind him. "Should be safe enough for the night, nothing is moving in this weather."

"Wikkid, this is Vessa. Vessa, Wikkid." Dredrik said by way of introduction.

"Las, it's good to see you awake."

Vessa smiled. "Thank you."

"When we get to Veegal's Wall," Hadrenn began. "What are our plans? Do we stay and fight?"

Dredrik shrugged. "I don't know. My instincts are to honor our original oaths to Argile, but I think we will continue on to Calington, fulfill Argile's last wishes then see to our people. The King has never missed on a prophecy before. If what he believed was true then it would be best to get the tribes to safety."

"So you are who I thought." Vessa said.

"You know us?" Hadrenn asked.

"You are all members of the Dread legion. Mercenaries belonging to the Lost Tribes who signed on with the crown, but until today I have never heard of the lost being referred to as a people."

"And what have you heard?"

"That you are all outcasts, criminals who could not function in society. Considered a blight on the country by many."

"We've heard the same many times," Dredrik said. "Even so we are a people."

"You may be interested to know there is a large bounty out on all members of the Dread Legion." Her lips formed a frown. "Well, there was."

Hadrenn grinned. "Not surprising considering the amount of trouble we caused Harriman," he boasted.

"I would not be too proud," Vessa countered. "My entire order was hired to kill the lot of you. There may be some who have not heard the Duke is dead."

"And what order was that?"

"The Order of the Black Rose," Vessa said proudly.

"Bloody telepathic spies and assassins," Wikkid grumbled. "We've seen the handy work of your lot many times over the past few years." Formidable fighters to be sure even if lacking in basic battlefield honor."

"Honor has nothing to do with it. We are paid for a job and we do it. Are you not the same?"

"We were fighting for a place to call home," Hadrenn argued. "I'd consider that a bit more honorable than blood for gold."

"Gold, land, even freedom is a currency when plied right. Fool yourself if you like, but it is all the same."

"Lucky for us there is nobody left to pay out the bounty." Dredrik stated.

"Doesn't mean I'm going to sleep any better with her in striking distance," Hadrenn growled.

"Fear not barbarian. Nearly the entire order was at that camp and we were not paid in advance. You are safe from little ole me."

Hadrenn waved his hand dismissively. "Bah."

"If you're a telepath, then who and where is your bondmate?" Dredrik asked. "Is it not common that if one dies a violent death then the other dies as well?"

"True enough, mine is my twin sister. I sent her away to Calington not long before the war broke out. She is not a fighter, twin in appearance, but not in personality. Still she is very valuable for gathering intelligence. Or at least that is the excuse I gave the order before sending her. I think that most everybody knew that the Duke's hand was forced before he was ready to make his move so I wanted her safely away. Given a few more years of preparation perhaps he could have pulled off his ambitions, but as it was Argile's victory was all but certain."

"Then why fight for the losing side?" Eertu asked.

"Because the more desperate side pays better," Wikkid answered.

"Exactly," Vessa agreed. Had Argile's offers been better we would have taken up arms for him. It was just business. Now I find myself out of work and heading in the same direction as you fine people. Not to mention I now have a debt to repay. Besides to be perfectly honest I am not sure how I would fair alone in my current condition."

"You want to join us!" Hadrenn exclaimed. "You told us you were supposed to kill us just moments ago!"

"I also said we were never paid. I don't work for free."

"Lady, you're mad."

"Better with us than behind us lad," Wikkid said as he unrolled a blanket across the dirt floor. "She did not have to tell us what she is, or was."

"You're all crazy. I guess that's why we all get along so well."

"Sleep well Hadrenn," Vessa stated as she too closed her eyes. "Hate for you to be dead on your feet tomorrow."

"Ha ha," Hadrenn mocked as he settled down on the far side of the room. "I'll be watching you."

"Pervert."

"Eertu could you at least put some kind of hex on her, you know something to stop her from waking in the middle of the night and changing her mind?"

"Yes," Eertu answered as he wrapped up in his blanket.

Hadrenn sighed. "Well good to know I guess."

### . . . . .

Lord Merca examined the four prisoners on their knees before him. All of them were female, young, attractive, and most importantly deadly. According to reports they had been resistant to the madness the shamans had released upon Duke Harriman's forward war camp.

The memories he had stolen from the late King Argile were not all comforting. Despite his best efforts to misdirect the King's visions and that of his seers he had not been entirely successful. The good king had managed to throw an unexpected kink into Lord General Kuzzak's plans and by default his own. Four names from Argile's memory disturbed him. Three not so much, mere mortals but mortals of a destiny he was sure. The fourth had been a rarity, a rival power and potential threat.

Other reports passed along to him by outriders had placed four men matching the description of those from Argile's memories and a wounded woman leaving under the cover of darkness as the battle for Montrel closed. A mind scan of one of a dead footman left behind to patrol the war camp looking for survivors had enough readable thoughts to show a short pitched battle involving the four. If only he had been privy to this information sooner he could have acted quicker, killed the cancer before it had time to spread. That is where the four prisoners came into his plans.

"They tell me you are assassins, trackers," he did not wait for a reply, he already knew the answers. "I have a job for you, a continuation of a contract already given if my information is accurate. Four primary targets, with the most important being this man." With a snap of his fingers the images of three men and a dwarf appeared life-sized before him, more as apparitions than solid form. One of the apparitions stepped forward, slighter in build than the other two men wearing the robes of a magician.

"He is a warlock who goes by the name of Eertu. Do not underestimate this man. You may have hunted mages before in the past but a warlock is far deadlier than any mage. If possible I would like the warlock returned to me unharmed, but the other three are kill on sight. You will be escorted by a contingent of men and four blood trackers to aid in your endeavor. Mareth will be in charge, follow his orders or suffer in ways that will make you beg for death."

"If successful I will double the original bounty on these men and find you even more lucrative work. What do you say?"

"We have an agreement Milord," the one known as Jillian replied.

"Good, leave me and gather provisions. Mareth will meet you in the courtyard within the hour, dismissed."

Without a word the four women stood, bowed, and then exited what was once the throne room of Duke Harriman. As they exited Mareth in his solid black plate armor adorned with silver glyphs came from a side room which he had been listening from.

"You heard all?" Merca asked.

"I did."

"Use the shackles I gave you earlier. They should nullify the warlock's powers once you get them on. Dispose of the assassins once the job is complete."

"Fear not sorcerer I will take care of your problem."

"Watch your tone Mareth. You are not so important to my designs that I would not see you removed. Do not take long. It will be hard to hold the Lord General at bay. He is anxious to press his war despite my council of caution."

Mareth waved a dismissive hand in Merca's direction. "Your games with the Lord General are not my concern. I am here for my glory alone. I will track down this warlock of yours because it sounds like a worthy challenge. My entertainment is the only reason I chose to serve you. I have been briefed on Kuzzak's time table. I will rejoin you when the task is complete."

Merca watched with irritation as Mareth left. There was a hole in the man's memories. If Mareth every recovered those memories he would become a great liability. Until then he was a useful asset.

Merca left the throne room to seek out the Lord General. He would have to fill the man's head with false prophecy in an attempt to stem his desires long enough for the warlock to be dealt with. Merca had no wish to face off against this Eertu across a battle field. If he was to see his own desires met the first step was to take the fortress city known as Veegal's Wall.

### Chapter 5

"I know it's the right choice," Dredrik said as they rode toward the wooden walls of Galnath. "Does not mean I like it."

The snow in the region was still thick despite three days of sunshine. The bitter north winds overpowered the sun and helped things remain frozen. A lack of prints leading to and from the closed gates indicated little to no activity outside the walls. Smoke could be seen rising above the walls likely from chimneys beckoning the party with promises of nice cozy fires.

Vessa was riding with Dredrik now. She had taken turns on each mount to spread the burden. "This is my home village. The people are for the most part nice humble people, and the best part is my cousin owns the local tavern and bakery. I'm sure she will supply us with a few good meals and a nice warm place to sleep."

"With a bit of coin I'm sure," Eertu said.

"Well I for one am looking forward to the visit," Hadrenn's voice as boisterous as ever. "I've heard tales of Galnath, town full of bastard children and very few men. Sounds like good odds for a nice evening or two to me."

Mind your tongue lad," Wikkid reprimanded. "This may not be the best time to be, well, you."

"I'm just saying it sounds like there may be more than a few lonely women in there."

"Hadrenn, the women of Galnath are far more than you could handle." Vessa warned. "You are not as charming as you think you are."

Hadrenn smiled. "We'll see."

"Tell me Dredrik what it is about my village that unnerves you so. It is unfair to judge a place you have not been to."

"I have been here."

"It's a small town, I am sure I would have heard if somebody of your reputation had been here during Argile's crusade. I come back to visit quite often."

"It would have been many years ago."

"Then what, did you steal, kill, or commit some other atrocity that would make you not want to show your face here again?"

Dredrik sighed. "No, I've not done anything to offend these people."

"Then as the lady asked, what is it that unnerves you about this place?" Eertu Inquired.

Dredrik remained silent for a few moments considering his answer. "Graves," he finally replied.

"Graves?" asked Hadrenn "As in holes in the ground filled with bodies?"

"Aye, graves and all the memories that goes with them."

Wikkid urged his steed forward to draw even with Dredrik. "We all face our pasts sooner or later. It is often necessary to move forward. Either by luck or divine providence you have been given what may very well be your last chance for reconciliation."

"Coming from you those words are dripping with irony Master Wikkid."

"All in good time, we dwarves have a lot longer to make things right."

"Hold!" a voice cried from the guard tower to the right of the gate. "Who goes there?"

The wall was no more than four meters tall so the party could easily make out the face of the woman standing watch.

Vessa lowered the hood on her cloak and peered around Dredrik. "It's me Vessa. I come with friends in need of room and board for a few days. So please Harriet let us in, the journey has been long and cold."

"Vessa," Harriet exclaimed, "Welcome back! Open the gates."

After a quick reunion with the guard Vessa lead the party through the narrow streets barely wide enough to allow a wagon passage. She was greeted by many as they made their way toward the center of the village. It was obvious that Vessa was well liked by the townsfolk.

Hadrenn was surprised to see the stories were actually true, at least about the lack of grown men. Only a few males above the age of fourteen roamed the town, the guards, workers, craftsmen, mostly women.

Finally they came to a stop in front of one of the only two story structures with a worn sign swinging from hangers in the breeze claiming the place to be the Galnath inn. A young boy approached and after a brief discussion with Vessa offered to see their mounts to the stables after the party unburdened the beats of their belongings.

"Seems to be the place to be," Hadrenn announced as they stepped into the inn's common room eliciting a few hard stares from the mostly female patrons.

"It is, Vessa replied, "doubly so in the winter months. Warm fire, strong drink, and good company is about all anybody can ask for during the bitter cold."

"You had me a drink"

"Vessa weaved the party through the maze of tables toward the bar. "I thought that was the dwarf's line."

"What Wikkid? I can drink him under the table."

"Now I know your jesting," Vessa said.

"It's true Las," Wikkid stated sounding mildly irritated. "I've never seen dwarf, and most certainly not a man drink like Hadrenn."

"Not that I'm a raving drunk," Hadrenn added quickly. "It's just that when it suits me I can hold my drink."

"Vessa!" called a voice from behind the counter. "Welcome back."

The woman stepped out from behind the counter and embraced Vessa in a friendly hug. "I didn't expect you back so soon."

"Me neither. It's a bit of a long story that I will tell you later, but for now do you have any room available?"

"Do I ever not?" the woman asked.

Vessa lowered her voice to just above a whisper. "We also need your other talents. I have a few small wounds that could use some attention, and though he hides it one of my companions seem to be in considerable pain."

"Ah male bravado," the woman said with a slight laugh.

"Don't think that is why. I believe he simply does not want the rest of us to worry about him."

"So, introduce me to your friends."

"Cousin," Vessa said raising her voice back to conversational levels. "This is Hadrenn, Wikkid, Eertu and Dredrik," she said pointing to each in turn. "Gentlemen I would like you to meet..,"

"Eitreen," Dredrik said stepping closer and pulling down the hood of his long coat.

### . . . . .

"So this is where you found our fearless leader," Hadrenn said as he slammed down his empty mug. The party minus Dredrik now sat around a square table as near to the fireplace as possible. With their gear stowed away and food and drink before them in abundance spirits were running high considering everything that had transpired over the past week. "Seems a cozy enough place to me, why would anybody want to leave?"

"Ran into him about two hours walk from here," Wikkid replied after draining his own mug. "If you want any more than that you'll have to ask him yourself. It is not my story to tell."

"So that's all we get?" Vessa asked.

"We do not often discuss what drives us from our homes, not even among friends." Eertu said. "When you join a tribe your past is forgotten. All that matters is what you do within the tribes."

"So as far as any of you know, the one sitting next to you could be a mass murderer."

Hadrenn laughed. "So says the assassin."

The tone of Vessa's voice was laced with amusement. "I have always heard that Northmen could carry a grudge for life. I have not so much as even threatened you and still you moan."

"But you would have tried if your employer had still been alive and kicking."

Vessa sighed, Hadrenn had her there. "True enough. So what happens if somebody already a member of a tribe commits a crime against a fellow tribe member? Can he or she be forgiven and accepted into another?"

Wikkid swallowed down the fried chicken he had been chewing on. "No, every first generation tribesman has to serve in a military capacity as a form of proving. You only get one shot, if you cannot prove your willingness to help the whole you are cast out. If you are born into a tribe you are born with the benefits of citizenship as it were. If you throw that away it's your own loss."

"It's not as if everybody in the tribes were at one time a criminal," Eertu added. "Not even I knew this in the beginning. Most were political enemies or simply down trodden or homeless beggars with nobody willing to give them a chance. Most now are the children of such outcasts. Honestly it's the rumors of roaming packs of thieves and cutthroats that keeps us unwelcome in most civilized places. Argile knew this, his own less than generous forerunners are the reason for many of the tribe's oldest families."

Hadrenn nodded in agreement. "King Argile had worked hard to reconcile many of his family's sins. While not my King I respected the way which he went about righting many of this nation's wrongs."

"Would it be a breach of protocol by asking what brought you to Eebrook?" Vessa asked Hadrenn.

"Well I'm from the far north, but that much you know. As many would say I'm a barbarian. I have done nothing to be exiled from home. I am simply here because I wish to be. I'm not even actually a Tribesman."

"It's true," Wikkid agreed. "He simply showed up one day and never left. Now that I think of it he never asked to tag along in the first place."

Vessa cocked an eyebrow. "This sounds interesting, and I could use a good tale."

Hadrenn smiled as her. It was a charming smile she thought.

"Males of my people are required to seek out a Warmaster to serve under for no less than five years once we reach the age of decision. After over two years of searching I had found none to my liking. As you might imagine my father was furious with me, called me stubborn and bull headed. I can honestly say looking back he was and still is right."

Laughter broke out around the table, even a few chuckles could be heard from patrons at nearby tables who had been listening in.

"Anyway, with my father himself being a chieftain it was considered a blight on the name that I had not begun service yet. So I packed up just a few belongings and headed south in search of redemption.

One day while strolling through the Aldine forests I came across a small band of warriors who had thrown themselves into the defense of a caravan from raiders. They were greatly outnumbered and had no real reason to be there other than it was the right thing to do."

"I'll not lie," Wikkid interrupted. "The hope of reward lent aid to our decision to act."

"Wikkid, I am trying to spin a heroic tale here, you're ruining the tone. As I was saying, I jumped into the fight with reckless abandon taking two of the raiders before they knew what hit them. I guess my intervention must have cost some confusion because the remaining raiders ran for it even though they still had the advantage of two to one."

"I think it was your size," Wikkid said. "Not many men in Eebrook come close to your stature."

"Not to mention it is unheard of to see a Northman alone," Eertu added. "They probably had heard the stories of marauding giants from the north and figured there had to be more on the way. I'd bet good coin they thought they'd come back later to find the lot of you dead."

"You weren't with them then?" Vessa asked.

"No," Eertu said, "probably about a year later before I came to Eebrook, but Hadrenn loves this tale."

"After the raiders were driven away," Hadrenn continued while giving Eertu a dirty look, "Wikkid and Dredrik had convinced the rest of their party to track them back to their stronghold."

"Looking to find their stash of ill-gotten loot," Wikkid explained.

"I simply went along uninvited figuring I had found a worthy Warmaster at last. I have not been disappointed by the lack of adventure yet."

Vessa took another sip of ale. "What did you find when you got to the bandit stronghold?"

"Some coin, a few pieces of jewelry, furs, an assortment of trade goods. In all it was enough to feed all eight tribes for a winter and buy much needed goods," Wikkid said.

Vessa smiled at Hadrenn. "Not what I expected from a barbaric Northman."

Hadrenn shrugged. "Life is full of its little surprises.

### . . . . .

"I'm fine," Dredrik protested.

"Vessa says you're not. Being observant is what keeps her alive, remove the shirt," Eitreen ordered.

"Speaking of Vessa, I never knew you had relatives outside of Galnath."

"Interested? She can be very charming."

"No, just making small talk." Dredrik pulled his tunic off over his head unable to restrain the groan that escaped his lips.

"I didn't either, after the raid my mother's estranged brother came to help rebuild and brought along with him his entire family." Her eyes went wide as she got her first glimpse of Dredrik's wound. "Is that a burn? What did you do to yourself?"

"Aggravated a Shaman, I wouldn't recommend it."

Eitreen walked over to a large chest and began rummaging through it. "Anyway My uncle seemed to be fairly well off, and well-schooled in both construction and warfare. After his arrival he rallied the village and set us to the grim task of rebuilding. Here we go."

Eitreen came up with a clay jar and opened it. Her face contorted into a sour expression after she smelled of the contents. "Not the greatest smelling sab but it should help fight off infection and mend the wound. It also has a numbing effect so the pain should lessen."

"After we had rebuilt the town and added walls," Eitreen continued, "Uncle began training us all in the arts of war, mostly archery with short bows and crossbows as we are mostly women but a few of us excelled with blades. Vessa had already been well trained when she arrived. Uncle had started her training at five."

Dredrik flinched as Eitreen began to rub the sab on his burns. "She mentioned a sister in Calington."

"Jaclyn, probably Vessa's complete opposite except for her outgoing personality." Eitreen began unwinding a roll of cloth bandages.

Dredrik grabbed Eitreen's hand as she came close. "Look, this is a bit uncomfortable. I mean it has been a long time and we were best friends."

Eitreen pulled her hand loose and began wrapping the bandages around Dredrik's chest. "What is there to say? When we needed everybody to pull together you left."

"It wasn't like that," Dredrik protested.

"No, was that not you riding away with, them?"

"It was the price." He said is voice rising slightly. It's complicated."

Eitreen placed the lid back on the sab before stuffing the jar back into the chest. She shut it then used it for a chair. "Explain it to me, I think you owe me that much."

Dredrik nodded in agreement. "After the thugs set me loose as game I ran south, literally right into Wikkid."

"That would be the dwarf out there being drank under the table by the big man?"

"Yes, I explained to him who I was and that we needed help. Their leader, Jarred, wanted nothing to do with the situation. He was more concerned with the fact that Galnath was where they were heading to trade furs for grain and that now the trip was wasted. Wikkid on the other hand figured that they owed it to lend a hand as Galnath was one of the few villages that would trade with the Lost. After a heated discussion involving Wikkid's axe the majority voted to help us. But as a concession I had to leave with the tribes no matter what the outcome to make up for any potential losses. Three of theirs died aiding the village."

"Why didn't you tell somebody? At very least you could have told me goodbye."

"Both my parents were dead, and I was young, stupid, scared, and ashamed. I think that qualifies as not being in the right mind."

"You had no reason to be ashamed Dredrik. If you had not brought help as quickly as you did things would have been much worse."

"They were on their way here anyway," Dredrik argued. "It just would have taken them awhile longer to arrive."

Dredrik cautiously slipped his tunic back on. "I ran Eitreen. They raped and murdered my mother right after cutting me free. I had a chance to do something and I ran."

"You were ten. There was nothing you could have done. Your haste saved me from being the next little girl taken into the building for their twisted pleasure. I saw you personally thrust your father's sword into the man that abused your mother."

Dredrik sighed, "That was vengeance, not bravery. I ran him through from the back. Then I gathered up my father's armor and horse, the armor for me the horse as tribute for that snake Jarred, and fulfilled my end of the bargain."

Eitreen stood up and caressed Dredrik's head between her hands and touched her forehead to his. "You did nothing wrong, and I forgive you for whatever it is you feel you did. Now, enough about the past, you're here now so what brings you back home?"

"Would you believe me I said we're running?"

"You're joking."

"I wish I were. There is a whole lot of bad heading this way and I'm not sure exactly how much time there is. Is it possible to speak with the village elders, council, or whoever is in authority tomorrow?"

"It should not be too hard to arrange. The weather has everybody trapped in doors with nothing to do but eat drink and gossip. We'll make a party of it."

Dredrik shook his head. "They're not going to like this."

### . . . . .

"That's a lot to swallow," a young man in his late teens stated in response to Dredrik's tale, "especially from strangers."

The meeting was arranged quicker than Dredrik had thought possible. It helped that Eitreen and her staff of three served breakfast to all that attended. The way things were going he wondered if she should have broken out the ale as well.

"He speaks the truth," Vessa said backing Dredrik. "I may have not witnessed the siege myself, but I was in the Dukes camp when all hell broke loose there."

"Assuming this is all true," said an older woman with graying hair and frail frame. "One, what can we do about it, and two there is no guarantee they are coming this way. Veegal's Wall is many leagues north west of here."

"Sure, there is a chance that they will bypass the smaller villages and head to Veegal's Wall first. But sooner or later they will back track and secure their winnings. Only a fool would just assume that rebels were not lurking around making plans to strike," Hadrenn stated in a cool even tone. "What will you do then?"

"We are prepared to defend ourselves," another young man protested.

"Were you not listening boy?" Wikkid asked. "Between the war camp and Montrel Harriman had nearly five thousand troops and conscripts at his disposal. They lasted two days. Unless you have several legions hidden in the wilderness along with an army of magic wielders you won't last minutes."

"We do not plan on causing trouble for whoever may rule these lands," the grey haired woman argued. "It is not our place to care on those matters. We keep our heads down and mind our own business nobody will have reason to harass us. Trying to make a stand is what destroyed this village last time political unrest hit eastern Eebrook."

"I only see a few options available. First is to surrender and hope for the best. This village has tried that before. Second," Dredrik held up two fingers, "make ready to defend and as you said keep your heads down and hope to go unnoticed and pray that when they do your new overlords are not slavers. Three," Dredrik now held up a third finger, "pack up everything you can carry and leave with us for Veegal's Wall when the weather breaks. If Veegal's Wall holds you all can restart somewhere in western Eebrook."

The room immediately erupted into several heated debates, in some cased appearing as if people would come to blows when Eitreen slammed her goblet down hard on the bar as she called for silence.

"We need to discuss this in an orderly fashion. Jumping down one another's throats will accomplish nothing. We have governed this town as a democratic council for many years now and we will handle this crisis in the same way we always have. Everybody will get a chance to speak that wishes. Afterwards we will vote on what do about it. Dredrik, what chance does Veegal's Wall have of holding?"

"I do not know," Dredrik answered honestly. "The royal army has the largest collection of magic wielders ever assembled until now, and they have an extensive arcane library at Calington to fall back on for information. With any luck they will find a defense. It will take a good amount of time to move an army from Montrel to Veegal's Wall. And the weather should slow them down even more. The sooner we can get there the sooner we can help them come up with a plan."

"Everybody that is not a citizen of this village needs to clear the building," the elderly woman ordered. "That includes you Dredrik, you have no say here. Frankly the way you abandoned us all those years ago you are a far cry from the man your father was. We will send word when we have reached our decision."

### . . . . .

Dredrik fumed. The last comment made by the old hag had stung him deep, but he could not argue with the statement. That was probably what bothered him most. He stood with his friends around a fire pit that was kept burning in the market square just outside the Galnath inn each attending to their own thoughts.

"You have been quiet Wikkid." Dredrik said at last more to avoid his own thoughts than for conversation. "What do you think?" For the first time he got a good look at the square in the daylight. The buildings completely encircled the area with their back walls all facing outward. Where there were gaps, spiked fences as tall as the buildings filled the spaces and heavy gates were located on both the east and west sides along the road. A fallback position he realized. Last stand in case the village walls were breached.

"There is not much to say. In the larger scheme of things it does not matter. Either they come or they stay. Whatever their decision we have to leave soon."

Dredrik simply nodded in agreement. Wikkid was right as usual. "I dropped my armor off at the smithies at daylight today. If anybody else has anything they need attended to I suggest you get it delivered."

"Perhaps there is a way to get a message to Veegal's Wall much quicker," Eertu said as he warmed his hands over the roaring fire. Vessa can send a telepathic message to her sister in Calington. She delivers the message, the mages in Calington research a response and sends a message to the Wall."

Hadrenn shook his head. "She told me last night something is still interfering with her link, and they have the highest telepathic rating. She says the bond is still there, but she has no idea whether what she is sending is getting through our not, but she is receiving nothing."

"No matter their decision it would not hurt to offer our assistance in advancing their training further. Either path will benefit from what we can teach them," Wikkid added.

"Agreed," Dredrik said. I trust you can set up a training regimen for the villagers. "If nothing else it might keep Hadrenn out of trouble if he is busy."

"Wouldn't bet on it," Hadrenn said. "A village full of unattended women. Still just my luck to find heaven and we are too busy avoiding an apocalypse to enjoy it."

"Eertu, something about Vessa gave her immunity to whatever overcame the camp. It could have been luck, could be something else. Get with her and see what you can sort out," Dredrik ordered.

"Will do," Eertu said glad to have an assignment that kept him indoors out of the cold.

"Make sure to assign me duties in the training as well," Dredrik told Wikkid.

"No Lad," Wikkid turned to the sound of the inns door squeaking open. "You have healing to do." Eitreen and Vessa stepped outside and made for the fire. "And I'm not just talking about your burns."

Dredrik could swear the dwarf was smiling beneath that beard of his. "Now how is that fair to Hadrenn?"

"Hadrenn takes his pleasures whenever they arise. Even I find time to relax now and then. You," Wikkid poked a finger toward Dredrik, "have been worrying about everybody else for the past eight or nine years." Wikkid lowered his voice, "you may soon be our king, but here and now I am senior to you in this tribe and I am ordering you to take these next few days as the gift they are."

"Alright," Dredrik surrendered. "I'll do as you say Milord."

All four turned to face Vessa and Eitreen as the came close. Both women's faces were unreadable.

"The villagers have decided to stay and see it through," Vessa Began. "They do not wish to abandon all they have worked for. The two of us may not agree with the decision but there it is. I however will be leaving with you. I must reach my sister."

"Will you not come with us Eitreen?" Dredrik asked. "Staying here is pointless."

"I'm sorry Dredrik, I stay with my people."

It took all Dredrik's restraint to not curse under his breath. Here he was with a chance to change the past, and it's the people who vote to remain in harm's way. Even those who know this is a bad idea would stay out of loyalty. He could not fault them. He would do the same for the tribes. The entire village had signed their own death warrants and there was not a thing he could do about it.

### Chapter 6

Dredrik watched from the deck of the inn as Wikkid and Hadrenn ran a group of villagers through various combat drills in the fading daylight. Not all villagers took the offer of further arms training, but the majority did. From what he had seen so far Eitreen had not exaggerated in the recounting of Galnathian history. Most seemed fairly well versed in basics of swordplay, but their true talents did lie in archery. Wikkid had seen to improving their melee skills over the past couple of day. In their present state they would do well against raiders and common thugs, but against a truly organized military assault they would never hold. A few days at the hands of Wikkid and Hadrenn would improve their odds although in the end it would probably be futile.

Eitreen stood next to him dressed for combat in leather armor and a heavy coat. A short sword hung at her waist and a crossbow was cradled in her arms. It was her evening for patrolling the outer walls come night fall. Dredrik had already promised to keep her company. It made him feel useful while following Wikkid's instructions even if he was skirting the intent of them. Besides he had become quite fond of her company over the past few days and she seemed to have taken an interest in him as well.

That made tomorrow hard. After a night of heavy snow two nights ago the weather since had improved greatly. With obligations to keep they would have to leave in the morning even though he found himself wanting to stay more and more. Eitreen laid her head upon his shoulders and he wrapped and arm round hers.

Dredrik considered trying to talk her into leaving with him again, but they had spent enough time going round in round on that subject. He did not wish to spend his last night with her arguing. He had already broken the news to her that he would be leaving in the morning. She was putting on a brave face but he could tell she was saddened.

"Dredrik, we may have a solution," Eertu began as soon as he cleared the inn's doorway, Vessa right behind him. He did not pause for Dredrik to speak. "Vessa and I have been going over the rights and rituals of her order including potions, charms, and spells used in acceptance ceremonies. I recognized many from my reading of ancient tomes. I believe it was one of these that protected her."

"What's the catch?" Dredrik asked.

"What makes you think there is?"

"Because there always is."

"Your right," Eertu agreed. I doubt we are going to find what we need in the royal libraries at Calington or Veegal's Wall. The safest choice is to go to the source."

Dredrik hazard a guess, "The Sanctuary of the Black Rose?"

"Exactly, Vessa said it's no more than three days out of the way. I mean what good does it do Eebrook if we show up at the Wall without seeking out all avenues."

"None at all, Vessa can we go there without being killed on sight?"

"Last I knew was only four initiates and the keeper Anja left behind. As long as I vouch for the lot of you we should be good."

"Then that is our next move. Eertu, you and Hadrenn see to our provisions while I'm on patrol with Eitreen tonight."

"Speaking of which," Eitreen said, "it's time to get going. David will be wondering where I'm at."

### . . . . .

The weather was about as good as it got for a winter night in Galnath. The days warming trend had continued into the evening aided now by a warm southerly breeze. Stars shinned brightly in the clear night sky for the first time in nearly two weeks. Almost perfect, the absence of the moon left the town itself shrouded in darkness.

Dredrik held the torch aloft in his left hand while holding Eitreen's free hand in his right. They had not spoken much, both not wanting to face what the morning would bring. It was Eitreen who finally broke the silence.

"So, if somehow everything works out and the tides of darkness are turned away then what will you do. Come back to Galnath maybe, settle down?"

"I do not think I will ever pass east of Veegal's Wall again," Dredrik finally replied after some thought. "One of King Argile's last acts was to fulfill his word to the tribes." He stopped walking and turned to face her. "No matter the outcome I am to leave with the lost for an island called Rhonin. Argile gave us the whole of the Island including the outpost already established there to settle and create our own kingdom upon. I wish I could tell you different but that is where my responsibilities lie. It is also one of the reasons I have tried so hard to talk you into leaving with me. Well that and the impending doom on this side of Veegal's Wall."

There were tears in Eitreen's eyes but her voice was strong and unwavering. "I can't, these people are my family, my friends, my life. I cannot abandon them any more than you can your friends."

"Then there is nothing for us," Dredrik said in defeat.

Eitreen leaned in and killed him full on the lips. "We have tonight."

"That we do," Dredrik replied as let the torch fall to the ground and grabbed her by the waist pulling her close. "What time is this patrol over?" he asked then kissed her again.

"In about another hour," she replied a mischievous smile on her face.

That was when they heard the muffled cry from the sentry tower overlooking the nearby gate.

"Go, sound the alarm," Dredrik ordered all the while cursing the timing of it all. "Proceed under the impression that the wall is breached. I'll head to the gate and see what I can do."

A protest began to form upon Eitreen's lips but she bit it back and took off at a sprint toward the market square. With Eitreen safely on her way he drew his sword suddenly all too aware that he postponed picking up his armor and shield till early in the morning and ran as fast as he could to the gate. As he rounded the corner of a hovel nearly touching the wall he saw four figures, two climbing over the wall, the other two sliding down the ladders from each of the two guard towers. Whoever they were they were nimble, quick, and deadly.

Dredrik urged his legs to carry him faster as he realized that two of the black clad intruders were working on unbarring the gate. Two sentries who must have also heard the commotion charged with a loud shout, swords drawn only to be quickly cut down by the pair watching their fellows back.

The invader closest to Dredrik spied him as he barreled forward and raised its blade to strike but too late. Dredrik hit the attacker full force in the chest using his shoulder to drive the warrior to the ground. With no time to spare to finish the job Dredrik scrambled to his feet, his sole purpose now to stop the gate from being opened but he was too late.

From the market square the alarm bell rang out as the large timber used to secure the gate fell to the ground. One of the invaders shouted something and the heavy gates swung open. Another of the invaders rushed Dredrik. Well-honed reflexes saved his life as his own blade barely turned away that of the attackers. A horn sounded as he and his opponent exchanged a series of furious blows neither making it through the others guard. Finally his assailant made a mistake which he quickly capitalized on by slamming his left fist into the warriors mid rift then drove the pommel of his sword into the attacker's skull. A cry of pain rang out. It was then that it registered that the attacker was a woman. "Black Rose," he mumbled to himself now suddenly fearing for those he had left with Vessa.

More soldiers rushed through the opened gate followed by a huge warrior in black plate with silver glyphs etched into the metal. He reached for the huge claymore on his back as he strode forward. Behind him even more men in various forms of attire continued to rush through the opening.

Outnumbered and unable to retreat Dredrik did the only thing he could think of. He leveled his blade pointing it directly toward the towering warrior in an obvious challenge.

### . . . . .

Wikkid was the first outside, his great axe held at the ready. A quick glance of his surroundings found Eitreen ringing the alarm bell screaming "Were under attack!" There was a pattern to the ring he quickly realized. It was more than just a warning, it was also code.

"Where?" Wikkid shouted.

"The southern gate, Dredrik is there now. He sent me to sound the alarm, said to proceed as if the outer walls have been breached so I am signaling for the village to fall back here."

Wikkid fully understood what went unsaid, Dredrik was on his own. Already townsfolk came pouring into the makeshift keep. Parents racing for safety with children in arms, almost everybody carried a bow, quiver, and some form of melee weapon. The speed at which the villagers responded was incredible. Eitreen must have yelled an alarm as she ran for the bell. Wikkid took command of the keep, nobody protested.

"Alright I want melee militia at the north and south gates, Archers climb to the roofs." You and you," he ordered pointing toward two pre-teen girls, "help gather the children into the inn. First sign of invaders I want those gates swung shut."

"Where is Dredrik?" Hadrenn yelled as he finally exited the inn still working at sliding on his mail shirt.

"Where do you think," Wikkid replied.

"Of course, where do you want me?"

"South gate," Wikkid ordered." That is the direction we believe the breach is coming from. Eertu," he yelled as the warlock also cleared the inn, "up top with the archers."

Both Hadrenn and Wikkid nodded acknowledgements and went their separate ways. The villagers were now moving with a sense of trained purpose displaying an efficiency that would make any military commander happy. Unless the attackers came with overwhelming force they were in for a big surprise.

"Fires burning to the south!" someone from on top of the inn yelled. "Torches on the move, here they come!"

"Close the gates!" Wikkid ordered then muttered the dwarven blessing of luck and good fortune for Dredrik Airasmau.

### . . . . .

"That one is mine," the amused voice of the armored monster now marching toward Dredrik boomed. "Find the others, secure the warlock. Burn this village to the ground." Slowly and deliberately the massive warrior made a show of removing the claymore from its resting place on his back.

As ordered the host moved forward spreading out through the village stopping to light buildings with torch and oil as they went. Four large rat-like creatures held by leashes ran along with them. Dredrik waited helplessly as the invaders passed him by, the black knight confidently closing the distance.

"My name is Mareth. A man willing to make such a brave gesture deserves to know the name of his executioner."

"Dredrik Airasmau," Dredrik sneered, "and you will not find me so easy to kill."

Mareth chuckled, it was a crude laugh. "Fair enough Dredrik." Mareth's blade leapt into motion.

Dredrik was ready. Blade met blade, the force of Mareth's swing knocking him back. Blow after blow came against him each swing as powerful as the last forcing him to continually fall back. Blade on blade was not his specialty, preferring instead sword and shield. Try as he might he could not generate any offense. Sooner or later Mareth would wear him down and it was already feeling like sooner. The wound on his chest ached horribly hampering his ability to maneuver. Somehow Mareth managed to slip a backhand in between swings catching Dredrik with a gauntleted strike across his jaw. The unexpected blow knocked him to the ground, blood flowed freely from the gash on his cheek. Desperately he staggered to his feet fighting of the dizziness threatening to overwhelm him. By God Mareth could hit.

"Come now Dredrik," Mareth mocked, "do not make this too easy."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Dredrik growled striking out with a straight thrust toward Mareth's stomach.

Mareth easily batted the blade away with a lighting quick downward block, sparks igniting from where Dredrik's blade slid across his bracer.

However it was nothing Dredrik had not seen before. Quickly he brought his blade back across Mareth's body but the blade slid harmlessly across the warrior's breast plate. Once again Mareth's incredible speed allowed for another gauntleted strike, this time in his gut. He doubled over falling to his knees, breath forced from his body. Once again he tried to rise but Mareth's heavy foot smashed down upon Dredrik's sword which lay across his leg, the tip of the blade resting on the ground. The blade snapped in two, the force of the kick removing any momentum Dredrik had to stand.

"It is over," Mareth snarled as Dredrik remained on his knees barely able to draw breath. Overly confident he slowly drew back his claymore for a mighty swing meant to removes Dredrik's head.

"Not yet," Dredrik gasped as he summoned what strength he had left and thrust upward sliding his broken blade between overlapping joints built into the armor for mobility of the waist.

Mareth cried out in surprise as the blunted blade hit home against his side, the pain making him drop his claymore. The glyphs on his armor glowed and forced the blade back out simultaneously disarming his opponent.

With renewed hope Dredrik stood drawing a dagger from beneath his great coat. An enraged Mareth caught him in his much abused chest with a tremendous kick knocking him through the door of the building he had been unknowingly backed against.

Mareth studied his unmoving opponent for a brief moment then collected his claymore before making for the bulk of the fighting having decided the insignificant man would not be a bother anymore.

### . . . . .

Eertu swore as the eastern gate exploded in a shower of debris and flame. The defenders had been doing a remarkable job so far. Many of the enemy had fallen to the Galnathian arrows and bolts. It had not gone all the defenders way though. All too many of their number had been downed by return fire but the defenders battles on diligently. In the end it had been a mage hiding within the infantry charge that did in the gate. A vengeful smile spread across his face as he conjured up an appropriate death for the mage. With a few intricate hand gestures and the right incantations the mage simply lit up, his cries rose above the noise of battle as the human torch ran away through the hovels lighting even more structures as he went. Unfortunately the damage had been done though, and the unintended carnage being wrought by the human torch was unfortunate.

Wikkid and Hadrenn stood shoulder to shoulder, the Galnathian militia standing with them. "Hold this line!" Wikkid yelled. "In front of you is your enemy, behind you your children and loved ones! You falter, they die!"

On cue the enemy charged. Ten of the militia stepped forward thrusting out with pikes blunting the enemy charge. With a chorus of dwarven swears Wikkid lead the counter charge, his axe distributing death indiscriminately as the two lines clashed in earnest. Those who had never seen or fought a dwarf before sorely underestimated what they were up against and it cost them dearly.

Hadrenn stayed at Wikkid's right side matching the dwarf blow for blow, the two cutting a bloody swath through the enemy ranks. One invader managed to get around Hadrenn's guard, morning star ready to deliver a deadly blow when a crossbow bolt impaled the attacker's skull. Tracking the shot back to its source he nodded his thanks to Eitreen and went back to his slaying.

Eertu was starting to tire. While magic made for a deadly weapon it was also taxing on the caster. That was why mages in the royal army worked in tandem. It was also the reason Eertu trained hard with quarter staff. However upon the roof of the inn magic was all he had. He watched the pitched battle below allowing his magic to recharge for the next cast. Everybody was so fixated on the fight below nobody had noticed the four assassins climbing the back wall of the inn.

The assassins were upon the rooftop defenders without mercy. Most died before ever knowing murderers were among them. With no time to cast he drew a long dagger gutting an attacker mid-air as the assassins leapt at him leaving the blade stuck in the dying woman. Then focusing what manna he had regained shoved another from the roof with a quick push spell. The other two assassins were upon him too quickly though tackling the now defenseless warlock. Without ceremony he was bound and tossed outside the defensive perimeter.

### . . . . .

Dredrik moaned as he rolled onto his stomach and reached for a nearby counter to pull himself up with. By all rights he should be dead but for some reason Mareth had left the job unfinished. Everything ached as he steadied himself and let the cobwebs dissipate. His eyes focused to the dark room and he smiled. As luck would have it he had been kicked into the blacksmith's shop. In front of him his armor and shield hung from an armor tree repaired perfectly including the engravings and trim work. The smith had been more than good as her word.

With practiced ease he suited up then rummaged through the weapon racks till he came upon a menacing weapon. The mace had a fairly large head and short handle to keep the weight easier to handle. On the back of the mace head was an axe blade. He made a few practice swings against a practice dummy to get a feel for the weapon. It was as if it was made for him, an assumption that was reinforced upon closer inspection. The same griffon that adorned his armor and shield was engraved upon the axe head, with writing engraved on the mace head below in a language he did not recognize."

Properly armed he hurried away to aid his friends.

### . . . . .

A strange predatorily growl followed by a shriek of terror from behind grabbed Wikkid's attention. He finished hacking down another attacker then whirled around to find two dog sized rat-like creatures stalking closer. Blood soaked leashes trailed behind them and the shredded steaming body of their previous victim still quivered in a pool of its own blood. At second glance he realized the body was that of an invader. These beasts were in such a blood lust that they did not care who they slay.

The beast on the right sprang forward, mouth of dagger like teeth opened wide. Wikkid sidestepped the leaping animal and removing its head in one swift move, the momentum of its body carrying the beast a good distance before it crashed lifelessly to the ground.

The second beast had wasted no time. Even before its partner had made its move the beast had maneuvered to flank the dwarf. Wikkid turned just in time to catch the beast's mouth with the haft of his axe as the beast bore him down. Long narrow razor sharp claws dug in, the tips managing to penetrate the through the metal links of his mail shirt. Blood ran hot from the tiny shallow wounds.

There was a glint of firelight reflecting from metal as the beats head separated from its body. Hadrenn offered Wikkid and hand and Wikkid accepted allowing Hadrenn to pull him to his feet. Without a word the two sought out their next target only to find the siege had broken. The remaining defenders had disengaged and were now running for their lives.

A great cheer went up as the defenders realized they had won. "Finish the job," Hadrenn cried and the defenders surged forward in pursuit.

### . . . . .

Mareth had not made it far when he was met by two of the assassins carrying the limp form of the warlock they had been ordered to retrieve. "The assault has faltered," the one on the right yelled as they approached. "If we are to extract this man we must leave immediately."

"Faltered?" Mareth questioned. "These are but villagers."

"This is no village," the second assassin countered. "It's a bloody garrison, and they were more than ready for us.

Mareth was furious. His scouts had assured him this was a harmless village with a small defense force. He found the mere thought of defeat was enough to put a sour taste in his mouth. At least they had the warlock. He could take some measure of victory from acquiring their primary objective. "Come then, let us be off."

They had not made it more than a dozen steps when one of the assassins tumbled mid step spilling Eertu onto the ground. From the shadows emerged a silhouette, the glow from the burning building nearby not managing to reveal much about the new threat. A cross bow dropped from the shadowed form replaced in its place by the glint of steel. "I'll be fine," the first forced between clenched teeth, "teach that one what it means to interfere with the Black Roses."

The second drew her sword and dagger then charged. The two warriors met in a clash of steel upon steel, both a blur of deadly motion. After a brief violent exchange the two combatants maneuvered into the light. "Sister Vessa!" the assassin exclaimed.

"Camilla," Vessa replied evenly.

"How dare you. You are one of us."

"This village is my home, inhabited by my people. You come as shock troops not assassins and led a blatant attack that goes against our code."

"We are finishing a contract," Camilla argued as the fight renewed.

Vessa continued to parry Camilla's aggressive strikes. "The government that issued that contract is no more."

"The terms have been renegotiated. Do the job or pay with our lives."

Vessa barely turned the dagger thrust aimed at her heart. The blade instead sliced through leather armor drawing a thin line of blood across her side. Her counter strike stuck deep into Camilla's thigh. The assassin backed off and collected herself. With blood drawn between them there could only be one end.

Mareth unslung his claymore. As much as he appreciated a good honor duel time was short. "Stay with the prisoner," he ordered as he readied to end the duel. So intent on his goal he almost did not hear the sounds of heavy footsteps and the clanging of plate armor in motion. Startled he turned in time to be hit full force by a shield being driven into his chest by all the momentum an armored man could produce on foot. For the second time tonight Mareth found himself in unfamiliar territory as he was driven to the ground.

Dredrik wondered if the impact hurt Mareth as much as it had him as the two men were sent sprawling on the ground. Dredrik scrambled to his feet poised to fight only to find Mareth already standing, bringing his dreadful weapon down in a wide powerful arc. Whatever force drove Mareth, Dredrik was sure it had to be supernatural. No man that big wearing so much armor could have gotten up that quickly and be already pressing the attack. Dredrik used his shield to redirect the blow. The force of the swing carried Mareth uncontrollably forward allowing Dredrik to catch the hulking warrior in the stomach with the full force of his new found mace. Dredrik's arm vibrated furiously as the blow was violently deflected by Mareth's armor.

It was as much to Mareth's surprise as it was Dredrik's that the blow had not crippled him. He could feel something changing within him ever since he had battled the man at the village entrance. The way this new threat moved and carried himself it had to be the same man. Leaving him alive had been a tactical error after all, but one that would be soon corrected. He launched himself back at the man this time keeping his temper in check. His blade was met once again by shield with the warrior's mace coming into play again. This time he was ready but still found himself on the defensive now as shield and mace came at him with purpose. For the first time in his memory he had found a grudging respect for an opponent.

There was a cry of pain from where the two women had been locked into mortal combat. Mareth glanced in time to see the mysterious woman pulling her sword from Camilla's chest then remove the assassins head.

A new noise carried over the air as screaming running men in full retreat came into view with militia hot on their heels. Things had taken a turn for the worst with even the small victory of extracting the warlock now fading away. Mareth had to make a decision fast. If he simply tried to retreat this warrior would be on him instantly, but perhaps if the man's friend had been grievously injured he would stay and aid his friend.

Mareth swept his leg around taking the warriors legs out from under him. As the man rolled away he raced toward Eertu re-slinging his claymore and drawing a long knife. "This part I take with me," he growled as he pulled the warlocks bound hands back and brought the knife down in a quick powerful motion removing the warlocks right arm at the elbow. With that task done Mareth found himself doing something else he had never done. He ran for his life."

Vessa and Dredrik wasted no time coming to Eertu's aid as enemy soldiers rushed pass them with no intent to stop and engage. Vessa removed her belt and tied off the warlocks bleeding stub.

"Kill him" Eertu snarled, the color fading from his face as shock kicked in.

"With a nod Dredrik stood to make chase. Mistaking Dredrik's intent some of the retreating men struck out forcing him to fend them off. The soldiers went down quick enough, but by the time he had dealt with them Mareth was long gone.

### Chapter 7

"So much for victory," Hadrenn said in disgust as he Dredrik and Wikkid surveyed the damage from atop the inn. The village burned. Luckily the villagers had thought to build a firebreak between the structures of the village and the inner wall. Early estimates were only a few homes, stables, and the blacksmith shop had survived. Among the most important structures lost were both Grain silos and the smoke house. They may have won the battle but the village was lost without those resources to get them through the winter.

"Few victories truly are," Wikkid countered, "where force of arms is concerned. There is always a price."

"Eertu is beside himself with grief and is refusing to speak or be consoled. He locked himself in his room. Eitreen has him patched up as best she can and believes he'll be alright, but I'm not sure he will recover in spirit. Back home if a warrior lost a limb in combat it is seen as a badge of honor, a story to tell all the pretty lasses around the camp fires and in the beer halls."

Dredrik shook his head. "It is not the same for a magician. It is akin to you or I having our eyes plucked from his skull. We lose an arm we have another. We may be less effective at things but we still function. Eertu cannot cast and magic is at the heart of what he is. His spirit is crushed. Feels he no longer has anything to offer. But he is wrong."

"Aye," Wikkid agreed. "But can he be convinced of that?"

"I will see what I can do after the worst of the wounded have been attended and I'm satisfied we have enough on their feet to stand a proper watch."

"What is the tally now?" Hadrenn asked.

"Last count Vessa relayed was nearly thirty dead and twice that many wounded. It is believed that nearly a third the wounded will not survive the night."

"What will the people do now?"

"The remaining elders have already ordered all to make ready to leave for Veegal's wall. Some of us will have to go with them as escorts. Obviously the attack was aimed at us, more specifically at Eertu. Vessa had a chat with her former associate before removing her head. Seems this is not their old contract but a new hit put out so chances are the caravan will be assaulted in an attempt to get at us. There may be wondering raiding parties around as well taking advantage of the chaos. It will be a long slow dangerous march. I considered sending them through Denthar, the home Baron Eilik, see how many they could take in but I see no real refuge this side of the Wall against things to come."

"Could not help but notice you said some of us," Wikkid said.

"Assuming I can get Eertu motivated we have to send a party to the Black Roses stronghold. Without the information Eertu believes he has tracked down all may be lost anyway. I was thinking me, Vessa, and Eertu. If Eertu truly is the target they may have a way to track him. With any luck the three of us will lure Mareth and whatever support he still has away from these people."

"You're thinking wrong," Wikkid said. "Your place is with these people heading straight for Veegal's Wall. You're a leader, and that's what these people need. Besides most of the royal army commanders see you as one of their own. Whoever is currently in charge of the Wall's defenses will listen to you with the backing of field commanders we've served with. Also relations between dwarves and men are far from healed. There is a good chance I would be completely ignored." Dredrik started to protest but Wikkid cut him off. "Consider this another lesson I have yet to teach you."

"Which is?"

"The delegation of duty, you still believe it's up to you to personally solve the problems of the world. That was all well and good when our problems were on a much smaller scale. You gotta let the rest of us do our share and trust that it will be done."

"Very well then, Hadrenn you will go with Eertu and Vessa." Dredrik smiled at Wikkid. "And I have already considered that they need a leader. The Galnathians look up to you as their general now."

"Fair enough, now attend to Eertu, Hadrenn and I will see to getting the watch sorted."

### . . . . .

Dredrik found Eertu where Hadrenn said he would be. One candle flickering on a small end table cast the room in a somber glow not too unlike the light cast by the burning structures beyond the inner wall. Eertu sat immobile on the room's only chair in the darkest corner. The warlock was a sickly pale color looking more dead than alive. A blood soaked rag covered the stump of Eertu's right arm. A bowl of soup sat on the floor nearby untouched. A pang of guilt ripped at Dredrik about what had to be done. Eertu deserved time to recover but they simply did not have it.

"You best eat that. Food is about to become scarce and you need your strength."

"You eat it then. It's your strength that will be needed now. I am nothing anymore." Eertu continued to cast his stare downwards.

Dredrik sat on the bed. Weariness began flooding over him as the soft mattress gave way under his weight. "When you came to us, you told me you have always been judged by what you are not who you are. Ran off by those afraid of what you could do not ever bothering to learn your character. Now is your chance to prove to the world who you really are." Eertu's eyes met Dredrik's. "It is easy to be brave and bold marching straight into hell when you're powerful and sure of yourself. It takes real courage to do what has to be done when you're weak and scared with your entire world collapsing around you."

"And what is it you would have me do. Spew harsh language at our enemies? Perhaps threaten them with a good bashing from my nub?"

"I was thinking along different lines. Force of arms alone cannot win this. We need, I need you to take Hadrenn and Vessa, go to the Black Rose stronghold and obtain that information. Without it there is nothing to stop them from turning us all against ourselves allowing them to march unimpeded across the western half of the kingdom. I know we do not plan on hanging around, but what happens when Calington falls. Think we'll be safe and secure on our island?"

"I suppose not," Eertu conceded.

"Your mind is your biggest asset, Eertu. You know and understand things the rest of us could never fathom. You sense things that go unnoticed by us mere mortals. All I know is war craft, that is the limit of my abilities, and that simply is not enough this time."

"It is not all you know, Dredrik." Eertu slowly reached with his good arm and retrieved the now cold bowl of soup. "You know people. You learn who they are and what they need which allows you to choose your friends and comrades well. All of which makes you a better leader. Those are your greatest assets. I will go, leave me so that I may eat and rest. Tell Vessa and Hadrenn I'll be ready to leave early in the morning."

"Thank you, Eertu. I cannot pretend to know how much it is that you have lost, but you have already proven your character to me. I'll see to it that your horses are ready and provisions packed by the time you wake." With that Dredrik left to get things in motion."

### . . . . .

Eertu was true to his word. Before the sun had even begun its ascent the warlock was up inspecting the horses and provisions Dredrik had secured. Though unable to cast, Eertu was not completely powerless. The same magic that allowed him to hurl death from a distance had many other benefits, one of them being recuperation of body. It would not re-grow his hand but the shock was gone and he was no longer weak of blood loss. Dredrik had been outside waiting on him, obviously having not slept, and Eertu guessed looked far worse off than he did."

"The rest of us will stay in Galnath one more night," Dredrik had been telling the party as they mounted up and made ready to leave. "Give the people today to gather their things and bury the dead. You three try not to do anything terribly stupid. I want to see all of you at Veegal's Wall."

"I promise to behave dad," Hadrenn mocked.

"Right," Vessa said, "I'll keep him in line."

"Take care, and travel swift. It will take us nearly two weeks to reach the Veegal's Wall. There are very few horses, mules, and oxen to go around so the caravan will be moving at a crawl. Keep in mind Mareth is still out there and who knows what kind of support he held back."

"Mareth?" Eertu asked.

"Yes, that was the name of the man who severed your arm. Know him?

"In legend, but it cannot be."

"If you know something now would be the time to let me know. I spent most the battle last night having my arse handed to me by that man. I hit him full strength in the belly with a mace and he did not even grunt. In fact the only time he showed pain at all was when I stabbed him with my broken sword and he shrugged that off."

"Mareth means death in ancient tongues from distance lands. There is a legend I studied as a child of a warrior who bore the name of death itself appearing in one battlefield after another living only for war. It is said he has never been defeated in single combat. Always looking for someone he can fool into thinking they were his master for the soul purpose of manipulating things behind the scenes to lead civilizations to more and more bloodshed."

"You have a way of finding the most interesting enemies," Hadrenn said.

Dredrik considered what Eertu had said for a moment. "More than likely it is just somebody with as much knowledge of the subject as Eertu. Probably thought he could play on legend to advance his own goals. But just in case do these legends speak of a way to defeat Mareth."

Eertu shook his head and smiled. "As I said, legend says he has never been defeated. If it was him last night then his defeat at your hands is going to leave him in a piss poor mood. I am sure if it comes to it you will think of something."

"And on that vote of confidence I leave you to it."

With a nod Eertu spurred his mount forward leading his party onward.

Eitreen slipped in beside Dredrik and threaded her arm around his as Dredrik watched his friends ride away. "They'll be fine," she said in her most soothing voice.

"I know, but I've grown accustomed to the four of us facing down death together. It is hard not to ride after them. I just hope Vessa can get them in without a fight as she said."

"No reason to dwell on it now. Rest assured Vessa knows what she can and cannot do. If she says she can get them in she can. If it helps I for one am glad you are traveling with us."

Dredrik smiled and rested his head against Eitreen's. "It does." He could have easily drifted off to sleep where he stood, but his mind overrode his body. There were simply too much to do before nightfall. "What's next on the list?"

"Get you cleaned up, then we will treat your burns one last time before we leave."

"I'm fine," Dredrik protested. "You've already done wonders for my burns. As for last night my pride is far more bruised than I am."

"Wikkid said you would say that."

"Did he?"

"He also told me not to take no for an answer."

"Fine," Dredrik surrendered, "after you."

### . . . . .

Mareth was furious. He would have liked nothing more than to grab the nearest person and take out his frustrations but that would accomplish nothing. Besides he would not let one man make him loose his composure. It was bad enough he had to retreat, but the sorcerers personal telepath wasted no time in reporting to Merca the second they had been forced to retreat. Mareth was not done yet though. He still had a dozen men under his control not including the remaining assassin, Jillian. A single scout who had remained hidden outside Galnath helped in no small part by a cloaking charm had just reported back. Three riders had left the town. The warlock was leading them. Tonight under the cover of darkness they would use their last blood tracker to pick up the trail and exact some measure of revenge for his humiliating defeat. Not that the blood tracker was needed, the snow was still deep enough to leave a nice trail.

Until then there were other things to consider. He continued to change since battle started the night before. Where the warrior had stabbed him there was wound. Not even a bruise yet there was blood on the shirt worn under his armor. He had been struck by a mace that should have left him keeled over in pain and he never felt it. Then there was his strength, his energy level. Something was affecting him in very positive ways.

But there were also the memories. They came unbidden into his mind as clear as day. Just flashes, images from a past he had no memory of but knew in his soul he had been witness to. He pushed those thoughts aside. He had a job to do."

### Chapter 8

"So what exactly are you doing?" Hadrenn finally asked. Eertu had gone to work on some project as soon as they had made camp for the night. Spread out before the warlock was various powders and liquids Hadrenn could not identify along with an assortment of crossbow bolts and arrows.

"Well, as Dredrik recently pointed out I have stored in my mind many things. Some things I do not even know that I know."

Hadrenn cocked an eyebrow. "How does that work?"

Eertu continues to mix different ingredients together completely obsessed with what he was doing. "I have a unique ability. I can absorb others abilities. Not take them away mind you, just absorb the knowledge and in most cases also the ability. My current handicap has forced me seek new ways to be of use."

"And you came up with this?" Hadrenn said gesturing toward the items lain out before them.

"Yes," he answered as he began dipping the tips of bolts in the mixture. The tips would glow for a few seconds each time then he would set them inside a quiver.

Hadrenn sighed. It was always hard to get Eertu to just explain something. One had to drag it out of him. Hadrenn suspected Eertu did it just to drive people crazy. "And this would be what?"

"Hand me that crossbow please."

Hadrenn grabbed the weapon Eertu had pointed to and handed it over. "Would you like me to set it?"

"That will not be necessary." Eertu set the crossbow in the crook of his injured arm and hovered his good hand over the string. To Hadrenn's amazement as Eertu drew his arm back the bow string followed until caught in the locking mechanism.

"Neat trick."

"I have enchanted this one. I do not have telekinesis, but with the right application of knowledge, and necessity being the mother of invention I now have a weapon I can use. The bolts and arrows are for all of us however." At that Eertu removed a bolt from the quiver and slid it into place. Without warning he straightened his arm and loosed the bolt. The sound of the bolt thumping into a tree was quickly followed by a loud explosion. Fire and flaming debris flew in all directions sending Hadrenn ducking for cover. The tree groaned for a few moments then came crashing to the ground.

Vessa came running from her patrol short bow pulled taut, arrow knocked. Eertu was laughing, Hadrenn picking himself up off the ground, a large splintered oak stump burned, the rest of the tree fallen, the log also ablaze. "What happened here?"

"That was more potent than I expect," Eertu laughed. "I should have looked into this long ago."

"I thought you could not cast." Vessa said.

"He didn't," Hadrenn replied as he dusted himself off, "his crossbow bolt did that."

"Enchanting," Eertu said by way of explanation. "The skill is all but lost to the world, but I was lucky to have once served as an apprentice to one of the crafts few remaining masters. He never actually taught me anything. His business was lucrative and he saw no reason to create his own competition. I absorbed what knowledge I could from him and moved on to my next subject of study."

Vessa shot Hadrenn a questioning look and Hadrenn mouthed "I'll explain that bit later."

"The resources I could scavenge were limited but I found enough to do this.in the inns storage room, the bolts and arrows Dredrik had supplied in our provisions or we would have scoured the grounds for some before we left. Anyway I would not recommend loosing these at anything you do not wish to kill or destroy. I will leave some as they are for hunting, or in case you find somebody you simply wish to wound."

"Could you do that to my sword?" Hadrenn asked

"Yes, but it too would explode upon striking and take you with it. I will look into other options when time permits."

"Eertu ol buddy, you just made my day."

"You're both mad." Vessa said though quickly found herself chuckling as well.

"Quiet so," Eertu agreed.

"So what is the catalyst? Is it the impact that causes the enchantment to react?"

"That, but it also requires velocity from movement to prime."

"Ok," Hadrenn began, "say I was thrown from my horse then landed hard on the ground?"

"The quivers I am filling are warded to keep the enchantments inert. However I am not sure how much of both velocity and impact are required to cause the reaction once removed. I recommend handling with care. Also it may be that velocity multiplied by impact force may change the power of the reaction."

Vessa shook her head, "You two will be the death of me yet."

### . . . . .

The trio traveled three more days before Vessa announced, "We're here," as they came to a stop at the base of a large rock plateau in the middle of the woods about thirty feet tall.

"All I see is trees and rocks," Hadrenn said craning his head around in search of something he must have missed.

"As it was meant to be," Vessa said.

"I do not see either," Eertu stated, "but I sense magic at play. Powerful yet there has been an attempt to disguise the magic as well."

"It's the work of the keeper," Vessa explained. "Keeping us safe and hidden is part of her job. Besides the keeper I do know we left four initiates behind so be on guard. And let's hope I have not overly offended anybody by bring outsiders here. With everything that has happened surely the Keeper will forgive the trespass."

"Let us hope," Eertu agreed as he slid from his horse. "Even if I was not injured, this is another's lair. This place will be attuned to enhance her powers. I will not be able to do anything to protect us."

Vessa slid from her horse and approached the rock face leading her mount by its reins. She tentatively reached forward, her arm disappearing into the 'solid' stone.

"Illusions, a talent I have yet to encounter," Eertu's curiosity peaked. "Seamless."

"Hadrenn," Vessa said "do try to be on your best behavior. The keeper is a revered figure."

"Why is it you always assume the worst of me?" Hadrenn replied defensively.

"I don't think badly of you. In fact you seem to have grown on me."

Hadrenn smiled as Vessa blushed slightly at that revelation.

"But you do tend to wield your opinions like a blunt weapon."

"I concede that point," Hadrenn agreed. "Alright you have my word. I will be on my best behavior."

Vessa stepped through the illusion, next Eertu both with horses in tow. Hadrenn held his breath closed his eyes and followed half expecting his face to smash against the rigid looking rock face of the plateau. He exhaled and opened his eyes when it did not happen. He now stood in a good sized cave entrance with a gentle slope leading downward into the hillside. He looked back, from this side the entrance was open with bright light shining through unimpeded. Ahead torches began to light themselves first the closest then one after another down the long entrance passage.

"It looks like we are expected." Hadrenn said.

"The keeper has been able to watch us for some time now. Nobody comes near without her knowing. Come, just at the end of this passage is the stables."

As Vessa had said a stable was built, or more appropriately carved out at the end of the passage. Water from the rock flowed into basins carved from the rock for use as watering troughs, the stalls also carved from the rock with superb craftsmanship. Some skill in ironwork could be seen in the stall gates. Nearby hay, sacks of oats and grain were stored.

Hadrenn began to notice intricate carvings in the walls as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. They were dwarven figures with strange script written below the character carvings. "This place was not made by man."

"No," Vessa replied. "According to lore this place was abandoned by the Dwarves when conquering marauding human armies came to claim these lands."

"I have seen dwarves fight as a unit. Back home they still interact with the humans in the northlands. Wikkid by himself is a holy terror, how is it the men of Eebrook forced the dwarves out?"

"This current incursion is not the first time armies from overseas have come to conquer." Eertu answered "The Argile bloodline came wielding great magical powers and force of arms, a pattern that seems to be repeating itself. Also horses are not native to these lands. The dwarven defenders had never faced cavalry before. Dwarves are naturally resistant to direct attacks from magic, but if you blast the ground from beneath someone they do fall, concussion forces still do harm. But for the most part it was the knights and heavy cavalry over open plains. The kings of old knew this. That is why the borders of Eebrook end at the northern mountains. Every attempt to expand into the mountains in search of valuable minerals has ended in tragedy for the royal armies."

"So that is why the bad blood between the nation of Eebrook and the Dwarves of Mal-Karak," Hadrenn concluded.

"And why the nation of Eebrook expects no help. The old kings waged war after war when the nation was at its peak. Not just against Dwarves but also other human nations. Or so the archives within the sanctuary say," Vessa added as she began removing the saddle from her horse.

"And were the archives left behind by the dwarves or built by man later?" Eertu asked.

"There are some tomes that were left behind, I cannot read them myself but the keeper has studied them. Most are written in ancient languages but have been translated into common by scholars who have served the order or by the keeper herself. There are many books in the library that have been added over time."

"You keep saying the keeper, not keeper such and such or so and so. Surely there has been many. Legends of the Order of the Black Rose are over a thousand years old." Eertu said.

"Three that I know of, the current is said to be over six hundred years old."

"One would think a wrinkle old bag would feel out of place here among so many young beautiful women," Hadrenn said.

"You will see."

"Sister Vessa," a young female voice called out. The trio looked toward the voice to find four young women dressed in garb similar to Vessa's weapons still in their sheaths, "the Keeper has been expecting you," and with a glare at the two men added, "your companions as well."

"What, no demands to put down our arms?" Hadrenn asked only to be rewarded with a what did I tell you look from Vessa. He silently mouthed the word sorry.

"The Keeper has no fear of your weapons," the previous speaker stated levelly. "Come, Erica and Lesley will see to your beasts."

### . . . . .

The one finally known as Nichole lead them through the elaborately carved tunnel system until they reached a cavernous cathedral room even more elaborately ornamented than what they had seen so far. Large pillars twenty feet apart and stretching the full fifty feet to the edges of the domed ceiling circled a raised circular dais on which a throne of obsidian sat. Upon the throne sat a very attractive woman in very revealing, mostly see through purple garments. Legs crossed, hands resting upon the arms of the throne, long blond hair flowing freely.

"This room is cold, how can she wear that and not be chilled?" Hadrenn questioned in a whisper as they approached.

"She is," Vessa replied.

"How can you tell?" then with an uncharacteristic coloring of the cheeks he said "Oh, you'd think I'd been the first one to catch that."

"You must be slipping." Eertu quipped.

"Or god forbid maturing," Vessa added.

Hadrenn smirked, "You noticed first."

Vessa rolled her eyes, "I just told you that you were growing on me, if you want that trend to continue be serious for a short while at least."

"Something about her is familiar Hadrenn added unabated. "Five gold coins say she comes from my lands. Five more says she is of clan Mergoul."

"And on what do you base that on?"

"Certain details and no you don't want to know."

"You're on."

Eertu could not help but let loose a short chuckle. "You do realize he has you playing his game now."

Vessa sighed, "Yes, he can be damned contagious."

"Come closer," the woman demanded as they reached the steps at the base of the dais. Her voice was sweet and soothing yet strong at the same time. "Sister Vessa," she acknowledged as the trio reached the top. "It good to see some of us still live, though it is a shame what remains is pitted against one another."

Vessa lowered her eyes, "Sorry milady, I had no choice."

"I know, I have been in your thoughts since you entered the room."

"A physic and illusionist," Eertu observed.

"Not in the normal sense," the woman replied. I have a bond only with the sisters, and only in line of sight. Sometimes it takes more than honor and code to keep people honest, Eertu from the far south east."

"Vessa did not know that, how did you?"

"Just one of my many talents, I can read the aura of a person. Vessa I am afraid you owe Hadrenn ten gold."

"Again I am sorry," Vessa pleaded. "Hadrenn is thick headed."

"It is alright, I know my Kin. They are boisterous, outspoken, and frankly refreshing." She could not help but to smile as Vessa unconsciously moved closer to Hadrenn. "Though Hadrenn would be his clan name. His true name I am sure you will earn in time."

"I didn't even know you had a different name," Eertu whispered to Hadrenn.

"Nobody asked."

"I know why you have come and what conditions have driven you here and I will allow it. But first," Her smile became mischievous, "it has been a long time since I have found somebody I would," She paused looked away as if thinking of the right word, "Entertain. There is a price for what you seek," she said as she moved within a few feet of the party. "Eertu, come with me."

"I have given my word to protect him, I cannot allow him to leave unescorted," Hadrenn protested.

"My dear Northman, I give you my word I mean him no harm. Well not much. And I am sure he will want privacy for what I have in mind."

"Hadrenn," Eertu said resting his good hand upon his shoulder. "Do not take this wrong, but go away."

"Well, if she sucks the life from you don't come bitching to me. You don't know the women from home."

### . . . . .

The Keeper led Eertu to a shoddy wooden door completely at odds with the dwarven craftsmanship all around. Apparently the current owners were unable to recreate the strongholds original splendor. The room on the other side of the door however was large and very well furnished. The main section dropped six inches at the doorway and was big enough for two comfy oversized well cushioned chairs on one side and a divan on the other separated by a stone coffee table in the center of the indention. To the right a kitchen and a small dining table with matching chairs. The cabinets were more of the same stonework they had seen throughout the hideout so far. What appeared to be a cook stove was tucked away in a corner between two stone counters though there were no sign of wood for fire. Toward the back a raised section of flooring separated by a semitransparent veil of some fine mauve colored cloth functioned as the bedroom.

"You haven't given me a name to call you by," Eertu said as he studied his surroundings.

The keeper had gone to the cabinets and retrieved two silver goblets and was pouring a dark sweet looking liquid from a glass bottle. "Anja will do." She retrieved the goblets and walked to the living area to stand before Eertu. "I have seen and heard many things over the past few weeks, how is not important, but one thing I know for certain is that you are feared. The sorcerer who holds the true power of the invaders knows of you, what you are, and what you represent. He has come up with two options concerning you. The first you know of and many have already paid the price in blood. Even more will be spilled in the pursuit of your death."

"And the second option?"

"What if I were to tell you he would accept you as an ally in a heartbeat? That in return he could give you power, wealth, or almost anything you could ever desire. All you would have to do is pledge yourself to him. Before you say no think for a moment. He and his armies are powerful, posed to sweep across this nation like a wildfire. Everything in its path will be annihilated. At his side you would be behind the fire. Safety guaranteed, a life of leisure yours for the taking. What would you say?"

Eertu listened carefully as Anja spoke becoming ever more concerned about his predicament. The woman spoke only in a cool soothing voice, but he was sure if she did not receive the desired answer in this place she could kill him at will. The truth then he decided no matter the cost. "There was a time I would have taken that offer, but not anymore. I would have to decline that offer. I know what the world thinks of the darker powers warlocks wield, but I am the sum of my character and deeds. A good friend of mine helped me realize that. Since coming to these lands I have learned a lot of true friendship and acceptance. All things I had given up on at one time. Nothing was asked of me other than to pull my own weight, contribute to the survival of my new found people. This sorcerer would want me only as a weapon to wield, something to be discarded when it suited him. My companions on the other hand would stand with me until death if need be. If you brought me here to join some twisted cause or hope to convince me to act in self-preservation you have wasted your time."

Anja studied Eertu's features carefully as he spoke careful to keep her own expressions neutral. She was an expert at reading people's faces as well as their aura's A skill she had found to be priceless over her many centuries when aura's could be masked. She had no doubt Eertu could do so if properly trained. He is so very powerful. There was no lie in Eertu's words. "In that case you will not want to drink from this cup." With a simple twitch of the hand one of the goblets simply vanished. Then she drank deeply from the remaining one. "That one was poison." she said as she handed Eertu the remaining goblet."

"A test?"

"I know of your abilities to absorb knowledge and power. With what we are about to do you will absorb much. I needed to know where your loyalties lie before helping you to unlock your untapped potential. What we are about to do we do for pleasure as much as necessity. Teaching you would take time we do not have. This is faster." Anja took Eertu by the hand and led him to the bed chamber. "Come, you are about to experience something unlike anything you have ever done."

"I have made love before," he said defensively.

"Not with a being as equally powerful as yourself. I think you will find this evening especially stimulating."

### Chapter 9

Eertu's head throbbed. Thoughts were cycling through his mind uncontrollably ever since he woke in Anja's chambers. Sometimes it would be multiple thoughts competing for his attention threatening to overload his mind. Anja had already gone so he stumbled to the stronghold's study that he somehow simply knew where was, and rummaged around until he found ink, quill, and parchment. Ever since he had been writing furiously trying to capture everything he felt was important to the here and now in case he was unable to recall it again. Anja had warned him, said it would pass quickly but Eertu did not like to take chances. Finally what he had been sent to find appeared in his mind and he quickly scribed it down. What Vessa had not told him before the trip was that Anja was the true archive. Sure they had a library full of information. A treasure trove of forgotten history, lost legends, of both humans and dwarves, Alchemy recipes, Armor wards and enchantments far more powerful than the trivial garbage his old master had peddled. And that was just the beginning. But it all paled in comparison to what was stored in Anja's mind. Now with his primary objective complete he could deal with another nuisance.

"Hadrenn, you have been watching me for the past hour. I have done nothing interesting in that time so I can only assume there is something you want or want to know."

"About time," Hadrenn said, "what happened last night?"

"You're a grown boy, I'm sure you can figure it out."

"Let me put it another way, last night it rained inside the west wing."

Eertu smiled after a moment's thought. "Yea."

"A windstorm ripped through the commissary, made a real mess of things."

Eertu laughed.

"There were five earth tremors."

"It was a good time."

"Eertu, the term the earth moved is just a metaphor."

"Then maybe you've been doing it wrong."

"I think you're my new bloody hero."

Eertu laughed and shook his head. "All the things you've seen me do and now I've earned your admiration?"

"It's all about priorities." Hadrenn slapped Eertu on the back. "Now, anything I can do to help."

"Yes actually," he said handing Hadrenn the last parchment he had written on. "That is the formula we need, in theory, to counter the mind altering effects that caused the Dukes army to rip itself apart, and many other effects including mind control which I encountered myself. Keep that safe for it may be the only difference between a slim chance none at all."

Hadrenn rolled up the parchment and slipped it between his armor and under shirt. "Consider it done."

Both men turned toward the sound of footsteps as Nichole stepped into the study. Obviously she had meant to be heard, for even the initiates of the order were well trained in stealth. "Eertu, Anja has requested your presence in her chambers."

"I will be there momentarily."

"As you say," Nichole replied, spun on her heal and disappeared.

"We should be ready to leave in the next few hours," Eertu said before Hadrenn could think up something crude to say. "It is still not past nine, if we leave soon we can get in a good days ride. If you would place the rest of the parchments I have scribed on into my satchel. I will meet you in the throne room when I am done."

"Look if you would like another day."

"No, Dredrik is counting on us. Who knows maybe someday I can pass this way again. Until then I've got some wonderful memories."

### . . . . .

Eertu found Anja waiting in the bed chamber but not nearly as seductively dressed as the day before though the woman was still absurdly gorgeous. A table had been moved into the chamber next to the bed. From the items placed about Anja had been preparing for some ritual.

"Eertu, I was hoping this would wait till tonight after your mind has cleared and had some real rest, but I'm afraid we are out of time. Your party is being pursued, that much I can tell, but something is keeping me from pinpointing their location and from what I gathered from Vessa at least one of sisterhood is with them. So we are not safe."

"Mareth was a handful, but Dredrik alone was able to force him to retreat. Why would you be so afraid of him?"

"I have a theory on that but I must meet your friend before I can be sure. You must trust me on this. If I am right we cannot stop Mareth without this Dredrik."

"Maybe if we leave they will follow and leave you alone."

"This has to be done here, and together. This would not work if we were not both what we are."

"What are we doing?"

"Marakatina," Anja replied.

Eertu closed his eyes and concentrated on shifting through his mind until he found Marakatina. "That's possible?"

"In theory, you will suffer greatly. Normally one can do this, but the process is typically spread out over weeks. We have but hours. I will have to help absorb the pain caused by the accelerated process. Otherwise it would be enough to kill you."

Eertu shook his head, "No, I will not put you in that kind of danger. If it is Mareth and he is close it is too much to ask."

"The fate of many against that of a few," Anja said taking Eertu by his good hand.

"Says the caretaker of an assassin's guild?"

"That was business, this is bigger. I have instructed Erica and Lesley to not let anyone in. Any interruptions would reset the process, and it would all be for not. Nichole and Kathrin are watching both entrances and I have explained things to Vessa so maybe she can keep Hadrenn calm. Now come we must get started."

### . . . . .

Hadrenn paced restlessly in the throne room. The cries of agony echoed relentlessly throughout the cavernous halls driving Hadrenn mad. Hadrenn wanted much to march in and find a way to put a stop to it, but as much as it irritated him to admit it there was nothing he could do. It didn't stop him from taking it out on Vessa though. "How is it you can just sit here and listen to this?"

"Because I must, and so must you."

"I just wish there was something to do, a distraction."

"Vessa," Kathrin cried out, her legs carrying her as fast as they could. "Jillian is here!"

"Vessa's heart skipped a beat. If Jillian was here then so were the people that attacked Galnath. Jillian was the woman she had shot in the arm with a crossbow during the fight. A pang of sympathy for Kathrin came over her, she knew of the current situation and might be called upon to fight her own sister and killing your own bond mate was suicide. "Here now?"

"She sent a message, apologized that she could not contact me earlier. She claims that something is limiting contact range. Seeing as we are not twins it's a weaker connection to begin with so she has to be close."

Hadrenn began arming himself. "What else."

"It was sketchy. I got front entrance in five minutes, Mareth, twelve in all, sorry no choice, and run."

"You were saying," Vessa said to Hadrenn as she gathered up a short bow and quiver of arrows. There would be no time to reload a crossbow in close quarters.

"I take it back."

"Kathrin get Nichole, Erica, and Lesley have them meet us here. Then I want you waiting for us at the rear exit. Bring Eertu's satchel and gear with you."

"If Jillian is in trouble I want to help."

"I'll do what I can to help Jillian and keep you safe as well but I need you at that exit with that satchel Eertu's gear and provisions now hurry."

"And what of Keeper Anja?"

"We will buy her and Eertu all the time we can."

Kathrin bit back her protest and took off at a run Eertu's things in hand.

Hadrenn strung his bow then patted his chest, "Blasted all. This may be a bad time to bring it up but Eertu gave me the parchment with what we came for scribbled on it."

"You could have mentioned that about ten seconds ago."

"Come on we can bottleneck them in the passage."

A badly aimed arrow whipped past Hadrenn's head causing them both to scramble for cover behind the pillars.

Leaning around her pillar Vessa loosed her arrow into a pair of soldiers who were rushing their position. The enchanted arrow exploded on the ground between the two with a deafening bang amplified many times in the close quarters spraying the white stone walls with a fine red mist and hurling chunks of flesh in all directions mixed with rock gouged from the floor where the arrow had struck.

"Using these in here may be a bad idea," Hadrenn yelled over the ringing in his ears as he held up one of his own arrows for emphasis. Vessa nodded an agreement as Mareth stepped into the throne room. "Then again," Hadrenn said as he leaned out, aimed and loosed his own arrow.

The arrow hit Mareth dead center resulting in the same type of explosion but the results were less than satisfying. As the flame and smoke cleared Mareth picked himself up off the ground and continued marching toward them. Hadrenn and Vessa both drew their swords and charged.

Mareth met them head on easily fighting off both at once as Mareth's remaining soldiers led by Jillian filtered into the chamber to surround them. A trio of war cries announced the arrival of Nichole, Erica, and Lesley who wasted no time jumping into the fray.

Jillian threw herself at Vessa forcing Vessa off her assault on Mareth to focus on the new threat. Vessa found herself back peddling to keep enough distance to maneuver eventually being forced down another passage away from the melee.

"Vessa listen to me," Jillian pleaded as the two continued to duel in earnest. "You can't beat him, not yet anyway. I've been watching him trying to find a weakness. Over the past few days he has changed, become more and more powerful. He has even given demonstrations of his invulnerability to stem any talk of mutiny after Galnath. But he has started to trust me, and by the way he has been eyeing me I think I can eventually get close enough to find a way to bypass his defenses."

Vessa blocked a high blow that should have taken her head off. Jillian has always been the best of them. That is why she was the one Vessa had shot with the bolt first in Galnath. Jillian could practically beat Vessa at will. That did not change her want for vengeance for the massacre of her people at Galnath. Dredrik explained that it had been her fellow Roses who had opened the main gate allowing Mareth and his thugs in to burn the village. "To much personal blood has been shed for me to forgive or trust you."

"Then think about the bloodshed you may stop if I find his weakness." She easily parried Vessa's anger fueled renewed assault disarming the younger woman and pinning her against the wall with her blade at Vessa's throat. "I assure you I will suffer for my personal offenses against you, but for now you have to trust me. Get the Keeper, my sister and flee while Mareth is distracted. Just leave him the warlock and he will be satisfied to not pursue, at least for a while."

"I'm not leaving without the other sisters, Eertu, or Hadrenn," Vessa growled.

Jillian stepped back resting her weapons at her side. "Damn it, Vessa I don't want to kill you."

Jillian was the better swordsman, but Vessa had a lightning fast right hook. Her fist caught Jillian in temple in a blink of an eye, the studded leather gloves knocking Jillian out cold. She grabbed her sword and brought it within inches of the unconscious woman's chest. She raised the weapon high to bring it down into Jillian's heart then paused. What if Jillian was telling the truth, and there was Kathrin to think of, killing Jillian would kill her as well. Disgusted she left the motionless woman lying on the cold rock floor as she ran back to the fight.

Dredrik had not exaggerated in his description of Mareth's fighting prowess. If anything it seemed he may have understated Mareth's abilities. Whatever Hadrenn could do it seemed Mareth could do better, quicker, and with more force. The terrible trio was tied up in their own fights, though they had managed to down two more. Vessa was last seen fighting her wayward companion down a passage way. 'Four down one unaccounted for' Hadrenn thought. The odds were evening out. Not that it was helping. Hadrenn was tiring fast and Mareth was not even breathing hard. Another hard fast sweeping blow came at him aiming for his throat. Hadrenn dropped to one knee as Mareth's claymore split air where his neck has been just a moment before. Pushing Hard off the ground he threw his weight into Mareth. He might as well been tackling a rock wall. Mareth did not even budge from the collision, but Hadrenn bounced off and went sprawling on the ground. Mareth laughed preparing to deliver the death blow.

It never came. In the few seconds since he had last checked the sisters had managed to down the remaining soldiers and throw themselves at Mareth.

Mareth back handed Erica knocking her to the ground, caught Lesley in the abdomen doubling the woman over, then took down Nichole with a lightning fast elbow in short order. It was at that time Hadrenn realized Mareth had been toying with him.

He was not about to give up though. Back up on his feet he prepared to give Mareth the fight of his life. Then just like that Vessa was at his side both sword and dagger in hand. "I'm getting real tired of this guy," He said. "Let's explain to him he's over stayed his welcome."

Vessa leapt forward both arms a blur of motion that would have cut most men down, yet Mareth continued to parry and counter with his claymore with ease. Hadrenn circled around to Mareth's back swinging with all his might. The blow rang hard against Mareth's armor, the impact jarring Hadrenn's wrists and arms yet having no effect on Mareth. Mareth launched a front kick that should have been impossible in heavy armor into Vessa's chest hurtling her back hard against a marble pillar, the impact causing her to drop her weapons as the back of her head slammed into the unforgiving stone. Vessa's eyes rolled as she slid down the pillar into a heap on the ground.

Before Vessa had even hit the ground Hadrenn found himself fending off another brutal assault. Somewhere between the ringing of swords clashing it occurred to him it was too quiet. The screaming which had turned to background noise once the fighting broke out had stopped.

"Hadrenn, down." Eertu ordered.

It was a command he had heard many times in the past and wasted no time diving to the ground narrowly avoiding evisceration in the process. Fireballs flew over him as he rolled onto his back from not one but two direction. Mareth's armor shimmered as fire encompassed him, the impacts forcing him to fight for balance.

Eertu and Anja did not let up. Together they continued their assault driving Mareth further and further toward the passage he had come from, but just when it looked like they might at least drive him off Mareth began reflecting the spells with no real accuracy but the walls exploding all around was enough to cause concern.

Hadrenn spotted Lesley and Nichole dragging Erica toward relative safety behind the Warlock and Keeper. Taking cue from them he ran to Vessa and threw her over his shoulder spilling arrows from Vessa's quiver in the process. Hadrenn tensed half expecting the projectiles to explode in mass as they hit the ground, but apparently it was going to take more than that to set them off. As he stumbled behind Eertu an idea formed. "Take her," he ordered Nichole. "Start toward the exit now." Nichole and Lesley both disappeared down the back passage dragging Vessa and Erica along with them. Eertu still had his crossbow and quiver, Hadrenn guessed just in case he was too weak to use magic. Without a word he grabbed the crossbow which was hanging from Eertu's shoulder by a strap. Eertu looked irritated that Hadrenn had interrupted him mid cast but Hadrenn ignored him and slid a bolt from Eertu's quiver. "Cock it!" he ordered. Eertu snatched the weapon back and with a quick motion had the weapon loaded.

"I'm not sure how this is going to work, you two might want to get running," Hadrenn said while taking aim.

Eertu followed Hadrenn's aim and his pulse spiked as Hadrenn's intent was made clear. "Oh, Hell, Anja go!"

Anja did not have to be told twice breaking into a sprint down the passage leading to the back exit with Eertu hot on her heels.

"See ya," Hadrenn smirked as the bolt flew true. He did not stand around to watch running away as soon as the bolt left the crossbow.

Mareth had a great vantage point as the enchanted bolt impacted in the middle of the spilled contents of Vessa's quiver. It detonated sending fifteen similarly enchanted arrows flying in multiple directions. That was the last thing he saw before the entire throne room exploded into a debris filled inferno. The ancient stone pillars splintered and collapsed. No longer properly supported the ancient carved dome could not hold against its own weight and destructive forces being unleashed. Huge chunks of stone came crashing down with earth shattering force.

### . . . . .

Hadrenn emerged from the back exit surprised to see their horses waiting on them. Then he realized that it was not so much a back entrance but a second entrance not too far from the stables passageway. Kathrin had slipped around, killed the two guards that were left behind to guard that entrance, then made off with the horses plus some extras, more than enough to go around. Relief flooded through him when he saw Vessa wobbly, but conscious upon her horse.

"Jillian?" Kathrin asked.

"She's alive," Vessa slurred.

"I know that, but is she not coming?"

"She told me she had some things to take care of,"

"I'm not leaving her without her."

"Kathrin, Jillian is doing her job so that we can do ours." Anja said. "Mount up or all that was for nothing."

Kathrin complied unhappily.

"Where are we going Milady?" Nichole asked Anja.

"With them," Anja said indicating Eertu, Vessa and Hadrenn. "Invading our sanctuary just made this personal. Now let's hurry before Mareth digs himself out."

"I wonder if Dredrik and Wikkid are having as much fun as we are," Hadrenn said as they rode away.

### Chapter 10

"Get everybody across the bridge, we'll hold here," Wikkid ordered what was left of the Galnath Militia. The same band of raiders had been harassing them for two days now with hit and run tactics testing their defenses and resolve. With nowhere defendable in sight they had elected to keep moving without sleep or rest. Meanwhile the horseback marauders had followed at a distance in shifts. One group would harass them while the other rested. Wikkid was fine, dwarves could go days without sleep but the villagers where about at the end of their rope. It was time to make a stand and the bridge was their best bet.

"Brenda, Dave, Jack, Becca," Dredrik called out as children, old, and wounded filed past. "You're with me and Wikkid up front. I want archers to line up behind. Brenda unpack the pikes we need them on the line."

Wikkid stood his axe on its end handle down and leaned on it catching his breath. "James says this is the only crossing for seven leagues." They have little choice but to come at us or let us go."

"Or wait us out," Dredrik said between labored breaths. He removed his helmet letting the cold breeze dry up is sweat soaked head. "How long can we keep these people standing on this bridge? Most of us are barely standing now."

"You got another plan in mind?"

"I've got nothing. Even if we retrieved our horses from the wounded we'd be riding outnumbered six to one."

"Better than the odds when this started," Wikkid smiled grimly running his thumb over one of his axe's blades.

That was true enough. The marksmanship of the Galnathians had proven remarkable on the run against mounted targets. Anything that managed to get close enough Wikkid and Dredrik had made short work of. By all accounts the raiders had lost fifteen, the Galnathians two. All from wounds suffered in Galnath.

By the end of day one Wikkid had recognized their attackers. A mercenary group employed by Argile who called themselves the Mason Free Company. A despicable bunch who only went out on easy details such as scouting work or escorts for supply caravans operating well behind the front lines so picking on 'defenseless' refugees more than fit their ambition level.

"Look we know these guys," Dredrik said. "We ride out and say hi, they are liable to back off. We've got a reputation after all. They decide we might take most of them with us they'll go off to greener pastures."

"A bluff, that's a new tactic for us."

"We don't usually have civilians in tow either. You're always trying to get me to expand my way of thinking, let's consider this on the job training for royal court if we live to see that day."

"They can tell by the lack of horses we're not in our usually company. What makes you think we can bluff em?"

"You," Dredrik pointed at one of the archers, "get mine and Wikkid's horses. You," he said pointing at another. "You're about the right height go find something that will look like dark red robes from a distance and stand up front. Try not to change where a lookout might see. Thank you," he said as Brenda handed him a pike. "I need to borrow your scarf if you don't mind." Brenda handed it over and Dredrik tied it to the pike as a truce flag.

"So were gonna play the warlock card then. I like it. Not many would want to face one down. Not even mages."

"Maybe not our best plan ever, but it beats dying here today. Just in case, Eitreen, get some torches lit. Make ready to burn the bridge if we have to. Eertu and company may have to pass through here so we'll consider it a last resort."

The archers divided to allow the two warhorses through. The second archer hot on his heals wrapped in what appeared to be blankets. "Best I could do," the archer explained. At least he had concealed his bow.

Wikkid grunted as he mounted up, "It might do. Mason may be an opportunistic bastard but he's not stupid."

"It'll work," Dredrik replied as he too mounted up, and raised the pike up high the white scarf flapping in the breeze then two rode off toward the mass of horsemen. About half way there three of the horsemen broke ranks and rode out to meet them, weapons at rest. The two groups came to a halt about twenty feet from each other.

"Well," the brawny red headed scruffy bearded man known as Mason said, "Dredrik Airasmau and his pet dwarf."

Dredrik spared a glance at Wikkid, but the dwarf showed no sign of taking offense. Wikkid had always been good at self-control. "As I recall Wikkid has received triple the battle honors in Argile's service than your entire company combined. You might consider being more respectful when talking to your betters."

"My betters," Mason scoffed. "My ancestors helped lead the purge of their kind from these lands in the founding. They were trampled underfoot by human cavalry. There is nothing better about their kind."

"So a bigot and a fool then."

"I should cut you down where you stand."

"And unleash the wrath of my warlock? I know you're smarter than that. Besides if, and it's a big if you manage to slay me Wikkid will remove all of your heads before my body hit's the ground. So my ignorant friend, I suggest you turn around and ride back from where you came because a great many of you will not leave this field alive otherwise."

"And I'll make damned sure you are not one of the lucky ones," Wikkid added, his voice eerily calm.

"Bah, your caravan is not worth my time." Mason spat on the ground in front of Wikkid's horse. "There will be another time."

"Looking forward to it," Wikkid replied. "Maybe next time you'll have a backbone."

Dredrik winced, so close.

"You calling me a coward?" Mason roared. "You're hiding under the protection of Eertu."

"One on one if you're.... Man enough."

"So be it," Mason drew his sword. "Eric, Malcolm, back away."

"You to Dredrik," Wikkid ordered as he produced the one handed sword he kept strapped onto his horse which he favored for mounted combat.

Before Dredrik could back away Mason spurred his horse forward. Dwarves are not known as horsemen but Wikkid had become better than most men meeting Mason head on. Steel clashed against steel as the two met. If any had been betting on a drawn out fight they would have been wrong. Within three quick moves Mason screamed, Wikkid's sword stuck to the hilt in Mason's belly. Then quicker than the eye could follow Wikkid managed to bring his mighty axe into play removing Mason's head with one strong stroke. Wikkid pulled his sword back from Mason's gut before the decapitated corpse fell from the horse.

Dredrik readied for Mason's lieutenants to charge but neither moved. After a few uneasy moments Dredrik spoke. "Eric, you're leader of these men now yes?"

"Aye."

"Take some friendly advice. Be somewhere else. If you value your men make it very far away."

"We have no quarrel with the lost, we'll leave you be."

"How about Mason's horse," Malcolm asked

"Consider it spoils of war," Wikkid sneered as he held onto the animals reins.

"Very well," Eric conceded. "Farewell Dredrik, Wikkid."

Dredrik and Wikkid watched until Eric's Free Company broke ranks and rode away, before heading back to the bridge, Wikkid leading Mason's horse by the reins.

"We had an out, and I know you better than to think that was out of spite." Dredrik said.

"I won't lie lad spite had a bit to do with it, but a man like Mason is the type who would go back to camp, think it over while he downs a few then decide he has the numbers to make a go of it if for no other reason because he's pissed about being forced to back down."

"I wouldn't have blamed you either way. Mason had it coming."

"Maybe, but I've seen just as much hatred for men in the Dwarven halls, seems no amount of time will ever heal the rift between our two peoples."

"Perhaps, but here we are."

"Two outcasts hardly account for the will of two peoples."

"No," Dredrik agreed. "I guess not."

### Chapter 11

"You," a deep hate filled voice bellowed before Jillian felt herself being picked up by the throat and slammed against the hard rock wall. A weak cry of pain escaped despite her best efforts. The halls were dark, no longer lit by the magic of the keeper. The only light came from the torch Mareth held in his free hand. They're all dead her mind told her. It's the only explanation. But not all, if she was still alive so was Kathrin.

"I don't know how but you warned them, it's the only explanation."

"The Keeper," Jillian forced. "She sees much." Hope returned. If Mareth was this mad many must have escaped.

"And you didn't feel a need to tell me this?"

"Apologies, Milord. I did not think it would matter."

Mareth released his grip allowing Jillian to crash onto the floor. "Your usefulness has run out. Tell me why I should not kill you now."

Jillian was on her hands and knees gasping for air. "I have always been the best of my order. To be defeated twice like this dishonors me. Give me one more chance to avenge my embarrassment."

Mareth thought for a moment. He knew the woman was probably playing him, but avenging defeat is something he could now relate to. Besides, it might be fun to toy with her for a while. "And what makes you think the next time it will be different?"

"Teach me how to fight better. I've not seen a warrior greater, with your help I know I will succeed."

Mareth chuckled to himself then removed his helmet dropping it on the ground, then offered his hand to Jillian. Jillian hesitated not sure what to do, but eventually allowed Mareth to pull her to her feet.

For the first time Jillian got a look at Mareth's face. She had expected something hideous and deformed but the face before her was quite handsome. "You will help me then?"

"What you ask comes at a price, and you will pay it often."

The handsome face fixated on Jillian with hungry eyes that made her ill. It took all she had not to recoil when Mareth cupped her cheek. The cost would be high indeed she thought as she considered her last words to Vessa.

### . . . . .

"And that's when Hadrenn came running out of the tent wearing nothing but a scabbard upon his back, sword in hand thinking we were being attacked by the entire Duke's army." Eertu told the laughing party members assembled around the camp fire.

Hadrenn pointed toward Eertu, "Don't listen to him Vessa, he's lying."

"About what?" Eertu asked.

"I was not wearing a scabbard." Hadrenn boasted as even more laughter broke out.

"Anja, are all the Northmen like him," Vessa asked.

"Even by their standards he's a character."

Hadrenn choked down a piece of dried meat, "I must say I'm surprised by your lot. Yesterday morning you were all driven from your sanctuary, and recently suffered a catastrophic blow to your numbers, yet here you are in the wilderness enjoying what there is."

"Well, for me," Anja began, "it's partially to do with the northerner in me. I don't have to tell you how things can change from one day to the next, but I have found that among the sisterhood it is a live today die tomorrow attitude. I assure you what just happened was no mere slight and we fully intend to somehow get vengeance for that, but where we are is where we are. No reason to sulk."

"I've been meaning to ask," Eertu said. "How is it you manage to find and recruit so many telepaths into the order? As far as I know only Argile had more in his employ."

"Well, obviously we do not go around knocking on doors asking for volunteers to join an order of assassins and information brokers. We do have ways of hunting for those with special abilities of course, but you would be surprised how many come to us, many as a family tradition. Nichole and Lesley came in sisters if you have not already guessed it after one of our recruiters found them extorting gullible young men out of money."

Nichole and Lesley shrugged as one. "Was easy really," Erica said

"Erica here is a twin, her brother does not meet certain criteria obviously, but he does work the docks in an undisclosed city. He keeps us updated on certain interests, we supply the muscle for the few odd jobs he manages to pick up for us. Now Kathrin is rare. Jillian is of course Kathrin's older sister by eight years. For a link to be made more than two years apart is almost unheard of, but there link was not formed at Kathrin's birth. Jillian had a twin sister named Jessica. Jessica was violently slain on a job. Her death was of such a manner that it should have also killed Jillian as happens often when a telepath's bonded other suffers so. Somehow Jillian made a connection with Kathrin that saved her life."

"Speaking of Kathrin," Vessa said. "Where did she go?"

"Slipped out a bit ago," Lesley answered, said she was not feeling well.

Vessa stood and stretched. "I'll go check on her. I could use a walk anyway."

"Recruiting is becoming harder and harder," Anja continued. "What is not commonly known is less and less gifted people are born each generation. While the numbers are fewer, the ones that are born are more and more powerful. That goes for all forms of magic wielders."

"Would that explain the sorcerer leading this new army," Eertu asked. While I was mind hopping I got close. You could feel the energy he was emitting."

"Not by itself, but with the control you say he is able to take over people he could be using others to help channel his own power. Each soul under his control would give him that much more to work with."

"There were a huge collection of shaman, mages, and a few others I have not encountered before spread throughout his army."

"These would have to be consolidated, subdued, and completely submissive to his will."

"There was a large tent toward the rear of the army. I thought it odd that they would take the time to raise it no longer than the siege lasted. There was great power emanating from it."

"Perhaps what was in the tent allowed them to call down the sky like they did," Hadrenn suggested.

Anja pursed her lips "It would be worth looking into if we get the opportunity."

Vessa eventually found Kathrin sitting on a tree stump about a hundred paces from the campsite. She looked sickly pale, shivering despite the layers of clothing she wore. "Kathrin, your freezing, we should get you back to the fire."

"I just need a few more minutes."

Vessa laid a hand on Kathrin's shoulder. "Anything I can do to help?" Kathrin looked up at Vessa. There was worry and fear in her eyes, tear streaks down her face.

"I don't know, I was sitting there thinking about Jillian when this wave of nausea came over me followed by a feeling of complete disgust. It did not feel as if it originated from me but settled over me. I thought maybe this is Jillian projecting what she is unable to hide from me, but there is so much about the link I don't understand."

A pang of guild hit Vessa. What would happen to Kathrin has vanished from her mind as she tried to kill Jillian, or when she left the woman unconscious for Mareth to find if he survived the fight. It was very possible something had happened Kathrin's link was less than a year old so it was likely she would not have experienced this before. Somebody like Jillian could block out a great many things with the practice of years of experience. "I won't lie to, you may very well be right, but if you are feeling these things than she is still alive, still working her mission."

"I know, but I can't shut this out. Fear, despair, embarrassment, how do you deal with such feelings when they are not even yours to deal with?"

"It takes practice," Vessa said sitting down on the ground next to Kathrin. "It does get easier to block out unwanted feelings with time. With the line of work we are in, you will get plenty of opportunity to practice. For now all you can do is take heart in the fact that you know she is alive. That is more than most would know right now."

Kathrin wiped her tears away, "Thank you Vessa."

"Don't mention it, now come," Vessa stood and offered her hand to Kathrin. "Let's get you warmed up before your sister starts thinking you are freezing to death."

### Chapter 12

Eric was a pleased man. Four days after taking control of the Free Company they had their biggest score yet. As he had figured, if one caravan had passed through this area, surely another would follow. The leader had been an aging petty lord, but a wealthy one. Five times more gold carried in his wagons than they had been paid for their four years spent in service of the royal army, not to mention a fortune in personal treasures. And the best part, very poorly guarded. The only survivors now were the man's three lovely daughters. Before his death the old lord had talked about a coming army marching across the lands at will. Sounded like another paying opportunity to him.

Before having them executed he had put the servants lucky enough to have survived the ambush to work erecting the great pavilion found in one of the caravan's wagons. With the speed in which they accomplished the task Eric could imagine them having done so every night since setting out from where ever they had been from. Tonight they would dine on the nobleman's rations, become drunk on his wines and enjoy the entertainment of his daughters in the comfort and warmth of his own pavilion. Tomorrow they would ride out and offer their service to these invaders. It mattered not to him who ruled these lands as long as he had his money and could live in comfort when it was all over.

Now it seemed fortune had brought him another present. A towering man wearing black plate armor with silver glyphs and armed with a vicious looking claymore slung across his back had been brought before him escorted by four of his men. In tow was a lovely young black haired beauty in dark leathers. While armed to the teeth with sword, dagger, and bow she had the look of a woman recently broken, yet somehow still defiant. Her gaze may have been downcast but he was sure she was seeing everything.

"I require two horses some food and a couple water skins," the heavily armored man said, A helmet covered most of his facial features while shadows cast across his face obscuring what there was to see even in the well-lit tent.

This irritated Eric, he liked to be able to read a man's face. "You ask for a lot," he said casually enjoying his current position. "Can we get you some gold, silver, or my first born while were at it?" The gathered men all laughed.

"Just some information." the man continued unfazed. "I am tracking a warlock, traveling with formidable company. I lost his trail a good many miles south of here along the river banks."

"Could be we've seen such a person, but that kind of information isn't cheap."

"I can offer you your lives." Mareth replied.

Once more the men broke out into robust laughter. Eric had to motion for several moments for the crowd to quiet down. Judging by the calm way in which the man said those words he was either a great gambler or truly believed what he had said. "Tell you what, we take the woman, your weapons and armor, and we consider letting you leave with your life."

A barely visible smile formed on the man's lips. "As you wish, Jillian I will not need your services for this rabble."

Eric found his own smug grin disappearing as the woman backed away. "If it's a fight you want I assure you it will be short and bloody. Men, silence this filth." he ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Eric had been right, it was short and bloody. Jillian watched the carnage in horror from her vantage point against the wall of the pavilion. Eric had been the first taken out of the fight, a short blade swiftly stuck into the man's belly. The rest of the men immediately went to arms throwing themselves uselessly against Mareth. One on one, three on one it did not mater. Mareth simply destroyed anyone within reach wielding his massive claymore in a nonstop arc of death one attack leading into the next, the men's own attacks simply deflected harmlessly off Mareth's armor. Whatever Mareth was he was getting stronger with each battle. A painful truth struck home. The man was un-killable by any means available to her.

In short order the men of Eric's free company were slaughtered or dying except the few smart enough make a break for it. The sounds of fleeing horses faded away from the carnage. The only things in the pavilion still moving were three well-dressed young women tied up in a corner whimpering and Eric himself crawling toward the exit on his side, Mareth's knife still protruding from his belly.

Mareth casually walked over to the man, kicked him onto his back then placed one massive boot on Eric's chest. "You are going to die, but I can make your suffering far more painful understand?"

Eric nodded.

"The warlock?"

"His name is Eertu, passed through here four days ago with a caravan of refugees."

Mareth pressed down harder on Eric's chest. "Lies, I fought the warlock a long ways from here on that day."

Eric screamed until Mareth eased up. "That bastard Airasmau was bluffing," then he chuckled despite himself. "I should have known when he and the barbarian did not ride out to parley with Dredrik and the dwarf."

"Who is this Dredrik and why would this Eertu be with him."

Jillian now stood on the opposite side of Eric after having cut the women loose. They were of no concern to Mareth. They had fallen upon their knees thanking her, but she urged them away informing them they were still in grave danger. Mareth paid them no mind as they scrambled from the tent.

"Dredrik is the leader of the outcast known as the lost that served King Argile up until a couple weeks ago. They were also known as the Dread legion by the Dukes army. I don't know why, but three years ago that warlock for some reason pledged his service to the Lost."

"Describe him to me."

"Average height, well built, wears armor the color of yours but with red trim, a griffin emblazoned upon his chest plate and shield."

Mareth's mouth frowned and eyes squinted, it was subtle and brief, but Jillian had been taught to read such things. Then it hit her. That had been the warrior who had managed to knock Mareth down in Galnath. Had that been a hint of fear or just irritation?

"He will normally be in the company of a Dwarf named Wikkid, Eertu and a Northman named Hadrenn. Best guess is they were heading to Veegal's Wall. Dredrik had given us a warning of some bad things to come. Guess he wasn't lying about that."

"Guess not," Mareth snarled as he thrust the claymore through Eric's chest. He watched momentarily as the life drained from the bandit. "Jillian ready two horses, pilfer food, water, and what coin you feel the need to carry. We travel north first thing in the morning."

'Not west' Jillian thought. They could easily catch up to them before they reach safety, and it was an easy bet that Eertu would be heading to the same place. For the first time she realized she never bothered wondering why Vessa had lead them to the Sanctuary of the Black Rose. "Not west Milord?" she asked giving voice to her thoughts.

"No, if the timetable is still intact, we should catch up with the army on the northern road in a few days."

"Milord," she said before eagerly exiting the pavilion. She had to try and contact Kathrin. With any luck she would still be close enough to receive some part of what she had to say.

### Chapter 13

Veegal's Wall, fortress carved out of the mountain itself, ancient when the Dwarves discovered it. Three four hundred feet long sixty feet tall twenty feet wide walls spaced three hundred feet apart parallel to one another stretched between twin peaks standing vigil over the only pass through the Vegar Eelton mountain range which extended north and south across the entire continent effectively divided the nation into two-thirds west, one-third east. On either side of the fortress a curved stone wall erected by men encompassed the city which had grown over time to become one of the nation's largest trade centers. Of course trade had suffered during the course of the war, but income had been compensated by the movement of troops on their way to the front after suffering only a short siege attempt which left the eastern city walls damaged in a way mirroring the nation itself.

Now as Dredrik lead the survivors of Galnath on the road toward the city gates they had to pass through the refugee camp which had sprung up on the eastern side of town. Men stood guard in the gaping holes in the outer wall keeping the refugee's at bay. He and Wikkid would be allowed through but his heart sunk with the thought that he may have led these people to a dead end. As they approached a familiar form stood in front of the gate, a smug look on his bearded face arms folded across his chest.

"It's about time you lot showed up."

"Hadrenn you filthy rat," Wikkid bellowed. "How is it you're here without having ever passed us?"

"Our new friends found a way to get us across the river downstream. We arrived yesterday around midday. Eertu and I told our tale to Captain Barnes who is now in charge of what is left of the defenses here."

Dredrik cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean what's left?"

"Seems the young prince Argile has had some of his father's visions, believes the men here will turn on one another just as we have seen, and as the refugees have described. Going on that the Regent ordered the royal army to fall back to Calington."

"That's insane. The choke point here is the best place to turn the invasion. Were you and Eertu successful?"

"Indeed. Even now he and the Keeper Anja are cooking up something that he believes will protect the men. Captain Barnes sent word of our plan through the official telepath, but either he is no longer getting through or Calington is refusing to answer."

"What's left?"

"Perhaps you should speak to Barnes, but I am afraid they will only allow you two in."

Eitreen started to protest but Dredrik cut her off. "Find some place for your people to rest until I can find out what is going on here. I'll return as soon as I can. The people out here appear to be starving. Take some of the rations and see if maybe a broth can be brewed to help feed these people. It may cost us some food, but it may also buy loyalty we may need soon. Also dispatch some of the militia to hunt game. This area is usually rife with wildlife."

"Dred, what happens if we are not allowed through?" Eitreen asked.

"I will not abandon you or these people, I promise." He said taking Eitreen's hand in his. "You have to trust me."

"I do," Eitreen answered. "Just," she took a deep breath.

"I'll be back in time for dinner."

### . . . . .

"A few other things you two should know," Hadrenn said as he led them to the Wall's war room. "How do you want it, we've got good news, mixed news, and bad news."

"Let's start with good and work our way down," Wikkid answered.

They had to keep pressing against walls in the narrow corridors of the wooden human constructed building serving as both barracks and command center to allow people to pass by. "Eertu got his hand back. I'll explain more later, we picked up a few allies. Anja a powerful mage of some sort, possibly even a second warlock but not sure, and four assassins. Mixed, seems we were right and your friend Mareth does have it in for Eertu. He dropped in for a visit with a few of his friends down south. He beat our collective arses handedly until I may have accidentally blown up their sanctuary so we could get away."

"Wait," Dredrik interrupted, "how is that mixed news?"

"Seems we have a spy implanted with him, one of the Black Rose assassins that helped nab Eertu sent word ahead to her little sister that they were about to breach the sanctuary which brings us to the bad. Last contact eight days ago said Mareth believed that their army would be at crossroads within a few days."

"Already?" Wikkid asked. "Crazy bastards marched an entire army in the worst winter I've seen in many years."

"So it seems," agreed Hadrenn as he stopped and knocked on a heavy wooden door. A voice from the other side bid them enter.

Only one man occupied the relatively large room. A stocky individual with a grand mustache, balding head, stout arms, and a bulging belly. On his right leg attached at the knee was a solid looking peg leg. Several small tables were pushed together in the center of the room on which a large map covered most of the surfaces. A desk sat pulled out from a corner facing the door completely cluttered. Lanterns hung on each wall and from the ceiling burning brightly yet still the room felt dark and dreary.

"Dredrik," the man cried happily, "you scoundrel. Good to see you all things considered."

Dredrik stretched out his hand and Barnes clasped it at the wrist. "You too, Captain. I wondered where they shipped you off after the battle of Halthorn."

"Yes, to a terribly boring station command until of late. What in the name of all that's good is going on out there?"

"In short we are being invaded," Dredrik said retracting his hand. "Though that I'm sure you already know."

"Yes, and I know your friend Eertu believes he has found a way to protect us from the magic everybody has been buzzing about."

"Well the mind control or whatever it truly is anyway. Either way we should not have to worry about being overrun from within."

"We?" Barnes smiled. "That may be the best news I've gotten today."

"And the worst I've gotten," Hadrenn muttered.

"Sorry Had, I meant to break it to all of you at once."

"Think we all already knew," Hadrenn confessed. Just feels different to have it voiced.

"Captain, what do we have left in the way of manpower and equipment," Wikkid asked.

Barnes pulled a chair away from the map tables and sat down hard. "Equipment is not a problem. The armory is full of old weapons and armor, most of it even usable. Manpower however, maybe three hundred full time militia, a few hundred part time volunteers, and two hundred aging relics the royal army considered expendable. That is of course including me."

"So between six and seven hundred men to defend the third largest city in Eebrook," Hadrenn shrugged, "should be fun."

"How about the refugees outside the eastern city wall, is an awful lot of people out there?" Dredrik asked.

Barnes shook his head. "I'm sorry Dredrik. Last communications from Calington ordered us to keep all unknowns out. Only reason we allowed Hadrenn and Eertu's friends in is because they personally vouched for them. It seems Calington is afraid of infiltrators."

"Barnes," Wikkid said. "Everybody out there is as good as dead including the villagers within the eastern city. That wall would not turn a herd of sheep in its current state."

"It's more than just infiltration. The war has taken its toll on food production. Farmers away fighting in the war, a very dry growing season, the demands of the army, nobody in the west has the resources to take in refugees and feed their own."

"That's cold," Hadrenn growled.

"That's logistics," Barnes countered.

Dredrik pulled out a parchment from his satchel and handed it over to Barnes. "That is my last standing orders from King Argile. In it you will find that it states I will be given whatever support is needed to complete that task."

Barns quickly read through the document surprise crossing his face several times until he handed the document back. "King Airasmau?"

"And protector of the Argile blood line," Dredrik added. "From this point forward I take full responsibilities for what happens next, you cannot be held responsible for the decisions I'm about to make."

"You seriously plan to overturn orders of the Regent and the prince?"

"Technically I out rank both in military matters as it concerns to carrying out King Argile's last demands upon me."

"On what grounds, not that I object. I know you. You think in strange ways sometimes but it is always effective."

"I have no intention of taking command from you, merely relieving you of the possibility of being prosecuted if we live through this. As for what grounds, if I remove the prince and princess while leaving an army standing to pursue us I am only delaying their deaths if they truly want to destroy the blood line."

"Good enough for me old friend," Barnes said. "I never was a huge fan of Lord, now Regent Dravok. Your highness I hereby relinquish command of this outpost to you."

"Great," Hadrenn said. "Now he's gonna expect us to call him sire, bow, it'll all go straight to his head."

"I'll try to keep my ego in check," Dredrik said as he paced over to the map. "Wikkid are the Galnathians good enough to use as a training cadre?"

"Aye they'll do, but perhaps Barnes' veterans would be better suited."

"Considered that, but we need them leading the defensive preparations. The people we are about to recruit might respond better to their own. Besides the Galnathians respond very well to you as their captain. Maybe that mindset will spread to the recruits."

"Fair enough, you get us some volunteers we'll do what we can."

"Where do we find people willing to volunteer," Hadrenn ask.

"We use leverage," Wikkid said.

"As much as I hate it yes," Dredrik replied. "Captain Barnes, if you would ready your men to work over our defenses as soon as I clear out the east side."

"Consider it done, Milord."

"Dredrik will do. Hadrenn, get with Eertu. Protect and help him any way you can. Ask Vessa and her minions to help as well. We lose Eertu we won't last long. Wikkid lets go recruit an army."

### Chapter 14

"Listen up," Dredrik yelled from atop a crate in front of the western city gate to the assembled refugees. "Passage through Veegal's Wall has been granted, but there is a price." Dredrik paused giving time for that to sink in. "Children, old and infirm will be immediately evacuated. Those able to wield a weapon or help with shoring up our defenses will not be allowed past the eastern city wall."

"And what if we don't want to fight?" one man cried out. A chorus of voices shouted out support.

"Those capable that refuse will not be allowed past the fortress walls," Dredrik repeated. "Furthermore, any who do take advantage of the offer and tries to leave will be arrested and tried for cowardice in the face of the enemy."

"Most here have never used a weapon against another man, what chance do we have?" cried another.

"Better behind the wall armed and with what training we can provide than out here with no wall and no weapons. Furthermore all serving will be pardoned from all crimes committed in course of the civil war and granted full re-instatement as a citizen of Eebrook. Anybody with command or training experience from either side would be considered extremely helpful. That's the offer and it is final, no debate no haggling. The line forms here. As you pass through you will either be told to make your way through the wall or be directed toward your unit. Which unit you are assigned to will depend upon previous experience and skills. Those families with children will have to pick one person to care for them."

Dredrik stepped down from the crate as cries of protest began to ring out among the crowd, but the majority present began lining up. The Galnathian militia had already been let through and put under direct command of Wikkid. That is except for Eitreen. Although proven in combat there was a great need for healers and Eitreen was one of the few with any knowledge among the refugees so far. She agreed only after Dredrik had promises she would be allowed to fight once the battle was engaged.

Already Captain Barnes had men disassembling wooden structures and using their timbers to build defensive walls and deterrents, others digging trenches and moving the eastern cities food stores into the fortress. Many of the new recruits would find themselves thrown into that effort for the first few days. The buildings within archery range from the outer fortress wall would have to be destroyed in order to deprive the enemy of cover and shelter within the kill zone. The outer buildings would be left to further hinder the movement of siege weapons though none were needed when the enemy sacked Montrel. Even if Eertu has found a way to keep the enemy's influences out of the defenders minds how does one defend against the sky falling. It was time to find Eertu.

### . . . . .

Dredrik found the Eertu supervising a group of twenty mixing, measuring, and boiling, in a commandeered kitchen within the fortress. Many canteens were laid out upon the table filled with many more empties stacked in a corner waiting to be filled. Even though Hadrenn had told him, he could not help but watch from the doorway as Eertu's once missing hand worked dexterously at its task. Eertu paused as if sensing something then turned toward Dredrik and gave a slight nod which Dredrik returned.

"A gift from a friend," Eertu said holding up his new hand.

"Quite a friend," Dredrik replied.

"You don't know the half of it." Eertu said smiling mischievously

"You're going to have to tell me all about it after everything settles down."

Eertu hefted one of the filled canteens then tossed it to Dredrik. "That should block any attempts at mind control or confusion."

Dredrik popped the stopper and sniffed, "Ale?"

Eertu shrugged. "It is a few different brews mixed into one foul tasting concoction. We had to find a way to mask the flavor."

"How much and how often?"

"One drink will suffice for a life time. We will distribute it with meal call as required drinking. There is sure be some protesting from nondrinkers but this really is the best we could come up with and make it drinkable. We'll simply make it a requirement to take a drink before you are served food. Should be enough for a few thousand dosed."

Dredrik took a swig and replaced the stopper failing to suppress the bitter expression that contorted his face. "I would hate to taste this without the ale."

"Trust me, it was bad."

Dredrik placed the canteen back onto the table. "Well that's one problem solved, we think," What are the chances you found a way to protect us from the fire storm they called down to demolish Montel's walls?"

"Leave that to us," said a pleasant female voice.

Dredrik spun around to find a tall beautiful blonde in a flowing purple gown flanked on either side by two armed younger women in leather armor who's dour expressions did not match the playfulness of their mistresses demeanor. "Anja?"

"Yes," Anja replied. "I see you keep well informed."

"Hadrenn mentioned some new friends. Now I see why he mentioned you by name."

Anja smiled, then stepped back placed one hand her hip and another on her chin as if studying something. "How long have you had this armor?"

"Since my father's death," Dredrik replied.

"It is of excellent craftsmanship. Even the recent repairs were done very well. The wards remain undamaged by its recent abuse."

"Wards?"

"You mean you don't know, curious." her expression becoming one of thought. "Tell me, what was it your father did as an occupation."

Dredrik shrugged "I don't know the specifics. A warrior of some renown occasionally sought out by people wanting help with one task or another. He never talked about it much. He was about to start my training to follow in his footsteps before, well before he died."

"It's not just the armor, but the weapon as well. May I?"

Dredrik unfastened the strap that held the mace to his waste and handed it over. "That I picked up from the blacksmith shop in Galnath during my fight with Mareth."

Anja turned the weapon every which way before handing it back. "Tell me do you bear the mark on your body that is upon your armor?"

"No," Dredrik replied as he re-secured the weapon. "I seem to remember my father having a griffon on his arm. Not a tattoo or brand, but a mark of some kind."

"Your family history is more than you know Dredrik," she said slipping past Dredrik to stand next to Eertu, as her two body guards took position on either side of the doorway. "You are more than you know. Perhaps later there will be time to explain further."

"Perhaps, but you were saying leave that to us?"

"We are about done here," Eertu said gesturing toward the canteen filled table. "Our assistants will take care of the distribution. Anja believes we have enough material available to ward the eastern fortress walls from a direct magical assault, and that we together may be strong enough to counter the sky bombardment."

"We will not be able to hold out indefinitely," Anja added, "or spare our strength to attack. But maybe we can force them to proceed with a conventional siege. Spend their time building siege engines while we stall for time"

"If Calington refuses to send reinforcements before the battle starts then it will be too late.

"Well, that just leaves everything else in your hands then," Anja said with a smile. "Judging from the stories Eertu and Hadrenn have told I'm sure we are in good hands."

"I don't know what it is you seem to think I am, but I'm nothing special," Dredrik replied as he stepped past the two bodyguards but paused when he heard Anja call his name.

"The blacksmith that crafted that weapon, she is helping in the armory much to the protests of some of the less skilled male smiths. Might I suggest speaking with her? You may find the conversation enlightening."

"You seem to know much. Yet you seem as in the dark about the future as the rest of us."

"I can read people, Lord Airasmau. Not events or thoughts other than the sisters, but the essence of a person. And I do know that emblem."

"Then you are mistaken." With that Dredrik walked away.

"Stubborn," Anja said as Dredrik's footsteps faded down the hallway, "and completely ignorant of his potential."

Eertu took Anja by the hand, "Yet here he is preparing us to make what is likely a final stand for a people who not only are refusing to defend what they should but have written his chosen people off and left them to die in the wilderness."

"Even in ignorance one cannot fight their true nature."

### Chapter 15

Mareth shook off the cold as he entered the temple Lord Merca had commandeered and twisted into his own personal lair. Holy relics, statues of saints, even the floor tiles that had been engraved with heroic images pulled from scripture had been defiled and perverted into something vile. It was not that he was a religious man. It just showed the complete disdain Merca held for anything that did not suit his own belief or purpose.

Where polished wooden pews once set in orderly rows before the pulpit now sat eight cots arranged in a circle, the heads of the cots forming the core with the bases pointing outward. On each cot laid a mage. Each unkempt and malnourished and in a semi lucid state secured by bonds of wide leather straps with their eyelids forced open with some form of adhesive material. Though unable to speak or move one could see the agony on their faces. A handful of servants tended to the care and feeding of the involuntary coven, just enough care to keep them alive. Rumor was each captive had been an extremely powerful mage at one time, each falling to Merca's personal conquest for power. After defeat the beaten that still lived were turned into a living channel for Merca's destructive arcane powers. Combined together under the full control of Merca they made up the sorcerers abilities that made him so valuable to the Lord General's plans for conquest. It was not that Merca was not a force to be reckoned with on his own, but no magic wielder no matter how powerful could open up the heavens to rain down destruction on entire cities. All the other tribal shaman, wizards, druids that had flocked to the Lord General's cause were a bonus of course but the real power behind the legion's many conquests laid here.

It had been several days since he and Jillian had rejoined the Lord General's legions in the city of Aknoir placed purposely to intersect all the major eastern trade routes at a place the locals called crossroads. Reinforcements from the homelands across the Beriatic sea had arrived in mass greatly swelling the numbers and reducing the need to rely upon enslaved locals. Most of the legion made camp in the outlying countryside but the lords and commanders had made the city itself headquarters forcing the locals to flee, be enslaved, or drafted for the cause. Since their arrival He had secured private quarters within the city for him and Jillian, had even met with the Lord General briefly but Merca had been silent until now. It was a fair bet that Merca wanted to gloat over his recent failure and assign him some new quest Merca was sure to deem of great importance. He was not in the mood. Much had changed recently.

"Sorcerer," Mareth called as he approached the dais at the head of sanctum where Merca was pretending to be too busy to take notice. "I don't have time for your games, what is it you want?" Left hand resting on the pommel of the long sword he favored whenever in camp, but as always when in public in full armor except for his helm cradled in his right arm.

Merca shot Mareth an irritated glare and tossed aside the tome he had been pretending to study. "It is you that answers to me, and my time that is important. Best you remember that."

"At one time," The warrior replied meeting the sorcerer's gaze, "not anymore. I'm no longer here for your cause. Whatever game you are playing in guise of aiding the Lord General's cause is yours alone."

Merca rose from his chair and marched to the edge of the dais using the platform height as a show of dominance staring down at Mareth trying to impose his will. "Insolent fool, I'm the one that discovered you leading a band of thugs raiding pathetic poor villages and calling yourself a warlord. It was me that helped turn your band of brigands into a force to be reckoned with allowing you to gain favor with the Lord General and raising you status in this world. You will do as I command or else. Irritation quickly turned to rage as Mareth began to laugh.

As if shooing a pest Mareth Waved his hand dismissively then turned his back on Merca and slowly circled the subdued coven. It was an obvious show of disrespect. He could faintly hear the sorcerer hissing with rage at having been so casually dismissed. "And thank you for seeing my men delivered with the newest reinforcements," Mareth let a smug smile form on his lips. "You see Merca," He stopped next to one of the cots and studied at the pitiful soul strapped to it. "I have had an awakening on my recent assignment. I remember it all," the warrior pointed one gauntleted finger toward his head. "Every form I have ever taken, including the last three which you," He pointed the same finger now at Merca, "took advantage of."

Mareth waited for that to sink in as the sorcerer's face contorted through a range of emotions. Though Merca hid it well, a small trace of fear slipped through before he recovered.

"Yes," Mareth continued his circuit around the coven until he once again stood before Merca. The servants escaped silently out of the building fearing an impending confrontation. Good, that allowed Mareth to speak plainly. "I remember my previous three deaths as well, but do not worry I am not here to settle those debts."

"How?" the sorcerer demanded. "The only thing that could awaking your memories..."

"Is a paladin," Mareth finished. "I did not realize what was happening at first, but after a chance encounter at Galnath my powers have grown immensely. Since then your warlock and his friends could not harm me, though the Northman that traveled with them did manage to bring a cavern down on top of me allowing them to escape. Even that experience left me unscathed."

"Impossible! All of the paladin orders were eradicated in the Delrian uprising."

"I was there, after all I was created as their counter centuries ago drawn to any battle where their kind led the opposition. I have even started wars to bring them to me. In the case of Del the remaining paladin orders had thrown themselves into a desperate losing cause in defense of the poor oppressed Delrians. Their type really do like there hopeless causes. With greatly dwindled numbers it was foolish of them. My mere presence when fully empowered nullifies their abilities. It was a slaughter that lasted less than a day."

"Obviously your victory was not complete," Merca stated calmly having regained his composure.

"A legend grew years after the battle of how a man and woman child from two different orders had been sent away to distant lands. Until now I have dismissed them seeing as it has been nearly two centuries since I have encountered one. The one I encountered at Galnath bore the emblem of the Order of the Griffin."

"There is no Order of the Griffin.

"Which brings us back to the legend, one was eagle born, the other lion, guardian and avenger."

"So that's why you have put your revenge upon me on hold," Merca began to pace. "You want me to find a way to deal with this paladin."

"No paladin has ever defeated me in combat," Mareth sneered. "You still live because it suits my nature to cause chaos and shed blood. For that I need you and the Lord General. This paladin will be no more than a foot note in my long history. If we succeed in conquering this land I will help you obtain that which you have been seeking all these years."

"You know where the Alminthium Stone is?" Merca's interest now peaked.

"I do, it was sent to the one place where nothing existed that could make use of it. You were right to track the legends to these lands, but it's not man that has the stone."

"Dwarves." Merca said.

"And I have always wanted to test my mettle against the mountain folk."

Merca leaned against the desecrated pulpit. "I doubt your motives are that simple."

"Perhaps, but what does it matter as long as you get what you desire?"

Merca simply nodded.

"Me and my men leave with the advanced force tomorrow morning. I am leaving the assassin woman with the main force. Any harm comes to her there will be a reckoning between you and me. Make sure she makes the journey." With that Mareth marched from the temple.

Merca watched the warrior leave, new plans forming in his mind. If there was one thing he could be sure of it was that Mareth was lying. Not about the locations of the Alminthium stone, but about helping him obtain it. With the stone he would be ten times more powerful than now with his coven in tow. There was no way Mareth was going to let him possess such strength. The warrior would simply have to be dealt with, and he knew how. From the short exchange with Mareth it was easy to tell that he did not remember everything.

### Chapter 16

Jillian was roused from sleep by a banging at the small huts door. Not for entry, but as a warning of company coming as Mareth had ordered the door barred from the outside and guards stationed outside the door at all hours. The small house was well furnished by local standards, polished dark wood furniture, glass windows with light brown curtains, and a dinning set that alone was probably worth more than most homes she had ever been in, a gilded cage, but a cage never less.

She barely had time to buckle her weapon belt before the clunk of wood hitting ground told her the door had been unbarred. The irony of that hit her as her hand rested instinctively upon the pommel of her sword. Obviously she was not considered a real threat to anybody. Mareth just did not want her disappearing. The door swung open allowing a man dressed in hooded dark red robes to enter. One of the guards pulled the door closed as the man removed his hood. The face was unforgettable, filling her with more dread than Mareth ever had even with his recent abuses of her.

"Lord Merca," she acknowledged doing her best to keep her voice neutral and calm. "If you are looking for Mareth he is gone."

"I would not be here otherwise."

The sorcerer smiled and folded his arms to where his hands were hidden within his sleeves. Jillian found it extremely unnerving.

"I have a proposition for you," he began. "We both have the same problem, one we can help each other with."

"I highly doubt that," Jillian retorted. "As you can see I am but a prisoner here."

"And you shall remain one, for now. It is the only way."

"You have lost control of your minion," Jillian decided to risk Merca's ire. After all what was death in comparison to being Mareth's slave and consort. "He has grown too powerful and now you fear him. Why should I risk myself to help you?"

"The first reason is obvious. As long as Mareth lives, you are his. I know his intentions for you my dear. You are with child are you not?"

Jillian's eyes widened in shock, "Even I am not sure of that, what makes you so certain?"

"It is Mareth's way, but we will come back to that. The second reason is eventually under the Lord Generals rule the war will end and the survivors will get back to some resemblance of a normal life. Mareth seeks only war. No sooner than this one ends he will find another leading more and more people to their ruin. There will be no peace as long as Mareth lives."

"And why would you care?"

"I do not. I care only for my goals in the end. Not of this armies, yours, or anybody else. But I cannot do that with the current Mareth breathing down my neck. So by helping me, you help yourselves and others in the long run."

"Why me?" Jillian asked. "I cannot kill him. If he was concerned he would not leave me armed." Suddenly something Merca had said caught her attention. "And what do you mean by current Mareth?"

"My poor, poor assassin," Merca said in a mock comforting voice. "You are bearing the next. Mareth can be killed but as long as there is a genetic link his soul passes to the next body to begin again. The secret of Mareth's immortality is not the impossibility of physical death, but the ability to be born anew."

Jillian slumped onto a chair near the fireplace, the roaring fire unable to affect the chill she now felt. "Then I must destroy it." she said silently after a few moments thought.

"It is not that easy." Merca poured a glass of water from the pitcher on a nearby counter and handed it to Jillian. She accepted and sipped the drink. The same powers that protect him now protect the child. It will detect harm and prevent it. You cannot even kill yourself."

"You Lie!" Jillian screamed pulled her dagger with incredible speed causing the sorcerer to back away then brought the blade hard into her stomach. Instead of impaling her belly the blade simply turned and slid harmlessly across her belly slicing her tunic as it went. Frustrated she threw the blade which stuck deeply into the far wall. Despite herself she began sobbing.

"That is why he cannot hurt you."

"Yet I cannot hurt him."

Merca eased closer. "There is one chance. There is a paladin companion to the warlock I had sent you to pursue. It is true any power that paladin has will be dispelled by Mareth's presence, the paladin's presence will similarly weaken Mareth's defenses."

Jillian's thoughts flashed back to the battle in Galnath, the armored warrior who had plowed Mareth to the ground.

"It is doubtful that even then this paladin with the combined might of his allies can take Mareth down, but with this," Merca produced a dagger from inside his sleeve where he had hidden it from the guards. Not that he needed a dagger to kill but guards were guards, "it is possible. It is inevitable that the two will seek each other out like a moth is drawn to flame. While in close proximity to each other this enchanted blade has the ability to cut through his armor, and defenses. I know this cause this weapon has killed him in the past."

Jillian grabbed the offered weapon and examined it closely. A strange empowering sensation took hold as she held it in her bare hands. "How can I get into position while held under lock and key?"

"You are to travel with us to this Veegal's Wall. Once the battle is joined in earnest I will make sure you are free to pursue you prey. You do this I am ridden of a potential problem, and you are free. Well as free as can be in your current situation."

"Except for the fact that I will be bearing a monster you mean."

Merca shook his head, "That is not necessarily true. If guided away from conflict and bad influences he may never realize what he is in the next life. Eventually his protections will diminish and become vulnerable. If stricken down before mating, it is possible to end the cycle."

Merca walked to the door and rapped loudly against it signaling for the guards to open up. "One last thing," the sorcerer said. "Assuming you survive and Mareth is destroyed do not be fooled if the child is female. The feminine versions of Mareth in the past have caused more destruction than the masculine form could ever dream of."

### Chapter 17

Dredrik made his way through the throng of recruits amassing outside the eastern wall for meal call. The warm air had given hope that the late winter had finally subsided, all traces of the blizzard erased except for the muddy saturated soil. Trees were beginning to bud, and the grass greening. Life coming alive all around while the inhabitants of Veegal's Wall prepared to face down death itself Dredrik thought.

Like every day for the past five his mornings had been filled with the duties he had taken upon himself when taking command of Veegal's Wall. Up before dawn, a bite of bread, water, food being rationed the only real meal came at night. Then it was off to the training grounds and earth works to check on the men and defensive preparations. All and all things were shaping up nicely, but he could not shake the feeling of lingering doom. He had seen the powers being brought to bear against them and they were formidable. Meanwhile his command had untested magical counters, seven hundred men at arms ranging from hardened veterans to untested and nearly fifteen-hundred civilian volunteers.

There was good news though. Wikkid with the assistance of the Galnathians had truly done wonders in the short time they've had to drill the recruits. Some could even pass for Royal Army regulars in a pinch.

Then there was Eertu and Anja. Just a few hours ago Hadrenn had demonstrated some interesting enchantment work Eertu had been working on. In fact he had dropped to the ground along with three dozen recruits when the archery target Hadrenn had shot erupted into an earth shaking ball of flame that threw debris for thirty yards. After much cursing the recruits quickly warmed up to the new ammunition.

Anja had spent her time warding the eastern walls from magical attacks. She had warned him that with the available materials the wards were weak and would eventual falter under assault. He had assured her that whatever time it bought them he was deeply grateful for her efforts.

With his morning rituals done and no pressing matters for the evening it was time to take care of some personal business. First he would take Anja's advice and talk to the Galnathian smith Arianna about the mace he had procured from her shop during the fight if for no other reason to either give it back or offer payment. Secondly He longed to spend some time with Eitreen. She had been as busy or more so tending to the wounded patching them up enough they can continue to retreat further west, and the fighters injured from training or wounds acquired prior.

As he had hoped Arianna was at her wagon which she had parked near the remains of a blacksmith shop after growing tired of the smiths employed within the fortress. Hadrenn had offered to put the other smiths in their place but Arianna said she liked it much better this way. Less bull shit to step in.

She waved from her perch at the rear of her wagon where she worked at a bowl of porridge in a tin bowl and utensils she had crafted herself. After one more mouthful she carefuly set her meal aside and slid to the ground to greet him.

"Lord Airasmau," she greeted with a slight nod, "what can I do for today."

"So they've got you calling me that to?"

She smiled, "Hadrenn says it helps with moral for the troops to know at least one person of importance stands with them, even if that person is in theory a foreign king."

"Hadrenn huh, sounds about right," He made a mental note to tell Vessa about Hadrenn's run in with a transvestite whore in Belran. "Listen, as you may have noticed this mace," he patted the weapon, "I got it from your shop dur."

Arianna held up a hand to cut him off. "It is yours, always has been."

"What do you mean?" he asked taken by surprise.

"My father was one of the few men who survived the raid all those years ago. Seeing a need and no son nor male villager to take up his trade he began to teach me. After a few years of apprenticeship I came across that weapon and asked him about it. Your father had designed and paid in advance for it. Seems your dad had a thing for designing and acquiring interesting weapons, and my father had a passion for making them."

Dredrik leaned against the side of the wagon, one arm resting upon its side rails, "your father ever speaks much about mine?"

Arianna laughed, "At length, seems the two were fast friends, your mother as well with mine. The tales my father told me of their adventures were the favorites around the dinner table, especially in those first few years when everything looked so bleak."

"So my father was an adventurer of some kind then?"

"My father would say he was the second best swordsman he had ever met."

"Your father being the best no doubt?"

Arianna shook her head, "Nay, dad said he was a brute force kind of a fighter. He said it was your mother that was the best he had ever met."

"My mother?" Dredrik laughed. "That's not something my father ever mentioned when I was growing up."

"Probably that whole male ego thing," she said with a smile then hoped back on the rear of her wagon and began rummaging through her wares.

Dredrik laughed, "Probably, our egos can bruise easily."

"That's what the old man said when I surpassed him at my craft," she called, head buried in a crate.

"He ever mention either of my parents having any special abilities or past?"

"If his tales could be believed then yes. Ah ha, here it is." Arianna hoped back out of the wagon carrying a long cloth wrapped object. "A lot of stories he told about mystical powers such as smiting an enemy with a single word and a flip of a wrist, maybe absorbing a blast of magical energy from a mage."

Dredrik rubbed his breastplate where he was still healing from a fireball to the chest. "That would have been useful," he muttered.

"As far as past," she said holding out the still wrapped object for Dredrik, "I'm afraid I don't know. This is for you also, made by me from one of the designs found in a trunk after father's death."

Dredrik carefully removed the wrappings to reveal a beautifully crafted long sword with razor sharp doubled edged blade and intricately decorated hilt once again bearing the mark of the griffon. He quickly went through a few practice swings with the weapon and whistled. His former blade had been more of a stabbing weapon, but he was sure he could get use to this if given a few days practice. But he did not want to take advantage of Arianna's generosity. "This is fine craftsmanship for sure, but I can't take this you've already helped enough." He held the weapon in both hands, blade in one, hilt in the other offering it back.

"Is a gift," Arianna said gently pushing the sword back toward Dredrik. "I am of no use with a sword myself, so how else am I to find out how it fairs if not wielded by a true warrior."

"At least let me pay for it."

Arianna simply shrugged. "I have made a good amount of coin doing odd jobs out here for these folk, even taking into account I've been making needed repairs for free. Please take it. That mace I am sure gets heavy carrying around all the time. The sword is much lighter. If you want to help though I could use more materials from the Fortress, I am running low and the local smiths are stingy."

Dredrik bowed to her. "It will be done," he replied slipping the blade through his belt until he could find a fitting scabbard in the armory. "And thank you, for everything. Perhaps later you can tell me these tales."

"It would be a pleasure."

Dredrik gave a second slight bow then spun on his heal. No sooner had he taken a step when Arianna called his name.

"Milord, if you're going to see Eitreen there was a lilac bush beginning to bloom out near the well. If any have bloomed they are her favorite."

Dredrik spun around but continued to walk backwards mouthed a thank you as his cheeks blushed uncontrollably then swiftly did an about face and continued on his way.

### . . . . .

Dredrik fumbled with the latch to his private chambers within the fortress where Eitreen had planned to meet him for lunch. They had both been making a point to eat with the recruits but Dredrik needed the few moments of quiet time. When the troops settled down for the night he and the rest of the command staff spent late night hours going over the day's events and the newest news and rumors to trickle in with the seemingly endless stream of refugees. In one arm he held a chunk of bread and a small pot of beans, the other a bottle of wine Hadrenn had handed him with a wink and chuckle.

Eitreen was seated at the small table near the head of his bed her head resting on her arms. Her head jerked up as the door creaked open, startled expression quickly turning to a smile as she blinked away the cobwebs. "Sorry, I must have dozed off."

"Don't worry about it, everybody here is overworked and exhausted," Dredrik replied as he sat the pot and bread on the table then produced two wooden spoons. "We'll have to share the pot, but seems Hadrenn found us something descent to wash the food down with if you don't mind also sharing the bottle."

"Such a romantic," she teased.

"But I am," Dredrik replied producing the lilac blossom he had safely and gently tucked away and presenting it to Eitreen.

Eitreen blushed slightly, "My favorite," she said sniffing the fragrant flower before tucking the stem into her hair. "How did you know?"

Dredrik took the chair opposite of Eitreen, the only other chair in the room for that matter. "I have my ways."

Eitreen removed the lid from the pot and scooped up a spoonful of beans, blowing on them to cool them down before taking a cautious bite. "I'll bet," she said after swallowing. "Either I'm hungry or those are surprisingly good."

"Both," Dredrik replied after sampling some himself.

It did not take long for the two to eat up the minuscule meal, but it was warm, the wine good, and Dredrik thought, the company radiant despite her tired state. He smiled, she smiled back. "Have you given any more thought to coming with me when I leave these lands?"

"Actually I have, and I will, but there is a condition."

"Oh," Dredrik cocked an eyebrow.

"We all want to go, all the remnants of Galnath."

"I have already discussed that with Wikkid, He has pointed out that I might be accepted as King among the rest, if I have had my own tribe to have led. If the Galnathians wish it they become the newest tribe, led I guess by me."

"You're not really into this king idea are you?" she asked taking Dredrik's hands into hers.

"No," Dredrik replied shaking his head. "But some reason King Argile made those stipulations very clear in the documents I carry. I can only assume it was to help ensure the safety of his children."

"And what happens to your," she smiled and corrected herself, "our people if you die here?"

"The Prince, and Regent both know the orders I have been giving I assure you. When I sent Joshua with the rest of the Dread Legion to round up our people and lead them to Denathral I sent a document written by me that if I, Wikkid, Hadrenn, and Eertu fall, he is to carry out Argile's wished and act as regent until a leader can be agreed upon. I can only hope that my will is acknowledged by Calington's remaining rulers."

Eitreen kissed Dredrik's hand. "I understand and agree with what you are doing here, but I've talked with your friends, they all wish you would depart and make way for the Lost's exodus."

"Aye, but they know I won't. I will not abandon my friends, the people here, or my love."

Eitreen smiled. "Did you say love?"

Dredrik did not realize he had said that last bit out loud. "I guess I did."

"Good," Eitreen said.

"Good?"

"Yes," she smiled. "Now take off your breastplate, I have not tended to that burn in over a week. I need to make sure you're taking care of yourself."

Dredrik stood and complied as Eitreen went to the bed and rummaged through the satchel she had carried with her until she found the now nearly empty bottle of sab she had been treating Dredrik with. When she turned around she gasped. The burn was healed but with an interesting side effect.

Dredrik looked down but could not make out anything but the darkened skin where he had been burned. "What is it?"

Eitreen rummaged through her bag again then handed Dredrik a hand mirror. When he held up the mirror in its reflection was the perfect monotone copy of the griffin emblazoned upon his armor.

### Chapter 18

"What do you think it means?" Hadrenn asked as he and Dredrik stood watch above the main gate of the eastern wall. Below them troops finished up their tasks for the evening as the setting sun cast them in the growing shadow of the Fortress.

Captain Barnes had declared the earth works and barricades complete earlier in the day. Three rows of trenches now stretched the entire length of the wall with rows of sharpened stakes jutting eastward in and on either side of the trenches with a few small paths built in to allow refugees or troops to move in single file. Palisades lined the western side of each trench as well adding to the woes of any would be invader. All the labors now were focused on training and moving remaining resources into the fortress.

"I don't know," Dredrik replied. Arms folded across his chest staring vacantly towards the tree line far downhill from the decimated city walls. "I'll have to chat with Anja when time permits, but right now I need her and Eertu focuses on the tasks at hand. I seriously doubt my unusual scarring has any bearing on the upcoming conflict."

Hadrenn shrugged, "I've never known a mystic to find great interest in mundane things. If she took an interest in you I'd bet good coin it's worth looking into."

"No argument here, but it will have to wait. Tell me truthfully Hadrenn, am I doing the right thing here?"

"You have doubts?"

"In my mind," Dredrik thought silently for a few moments, "no. But it could be argued that we should have given Barnes what information we had and rode on to Calington collected the prince and princess as Argile requested then made for Delentray to proceed with the exodus of the lost from these lands."

"You said it yourself. What good would it do to run if the nation of Eebrook falls? What chance would a few thousand tribesmen have of defending our new lands?"

"None," Dredrik admitted.

"And I agree," Hadrenn stated flatly, "and in case you missed it so does Wikkid or he'd done told you otherwise."

"Of that I have no doubt," Dredrik said while trying to stifle a yawn.

"And nor should you," came a familiar gruff voice from behind them.

"For a man who believes strongly in the virtues of brute force you could teach our new found assassin friends a thing or two about stealth," Hadrenn jested.

"That's because I'm a dwarf," Wikkid responded taking position next to Dredrik. "We tend to do everything better."

"Or maybe you just tend to get overlooked," Hadrenn deadpanned.

"That supposed to be some kind of joke lad?"

"A small one."

Wikkid sat the head of his great axe on the floor and leaned heavily on the haft. "Keeping a low profile makes it easier to keep my head on my shoulders."

"Any progress today?" Dredrik asked.

Wikkid straightened his back with a muffled grunt, "Some, their marksmanship has come a long ways. As long as we can hold this wall," Wikkid stamped his foot for emphasis, "they will make a decent accounting of themselves."

"And after it's breached?" Hadrenn quarried

"We lose the fortress and western city in a matter of hours," Wikkid stated flatly.

"Without reinforcements it is a matter of when," Dredrik added.

"Still no word from Calington then?"

Dredrik shook his head, "No, still either not responding or simply not getting our requests. We've dispatched riders in case it's simply a problem with the telepath but the chances of them reaching Calington before the enemy presses its advantage are slim. Then take the time needed to organize and march. No my friends unless help is already in route we are on our own."

"Well," Hadrenn said nonchalantly, "in that case it's up to us to welcome our new guests."

Wikkid shot Hadrenn a puzzled look, "And who might that be?"

Hadrenn grinned, "The army breaching the tree line. Course you'd seen that if you were tall enough to see over the battlements."

Wikkid let loose a torrent of dwarven expletives under his breath before bellowing "Sound the alarms! Everybody fall back to the fortress!

Dredrik watched expressionlessly as more and more soldiers filtered into the clearing between the forest and city wall as the massive gong atop the center wall began to ring out followed by the spread of panicked voices repeating Wikkid's orders. "Where the devil is our patrol?"

"Might I direct your attention toward the twin black banners marked with horned silver skulls?" Hadrenn replied.

"Of course," Dredrik muttered. Even at that distance in this light there was no mistaking the towering form astride a massive pure black warhorse leading the main column into the clearing, "Mareth."

Already the on duty guards were rushing to their positions along the wall with well-rehearsed efficiency as the troops still within the remains of the eastern district scrambled for the safety of the great gate. Dredrik was relieved to see Arianna leading her mule drawn wagon toward the gate with the help of a few fellow Galnathians. Too many of the people he had recently began to think of as his would soon die, seeming them all make it to safety at least in the opening stages gave some comfort.

"So this is the dread that as loomed over us these past weeks," Captain Barnes voiced boastfully, peg leg clicking every other step against stone as he approached. "Tis not so bad," he continued as he evaluated the army forming ranks just past the outer city walls.

"This is merely a scouting force meant to size us up and cut off anyone still trying to make safety or bring us word," Dredrik replied in a voice just above a whisper.

Barnes simply nodded, "I'm old not senile," he stated matching volume with Dredrik. "But moral is important at times like this. Enough of our recruits panic there is no way we can stop them from fleeing. Regardless of threats"

"All we can hope is that what training they have received and the lives of loved ones in the balance give the majority the courage to stand in fight."

"Courage will hold if we can show them they have a chance."

"Riders approaching under flag of truce," Hadrenn interrupted. "Looks like Mareth and two guards."

### . . . . .

Mareth waited patiently as three riders weaved their way through the recently erected maze of deterrents. It was no surprise to him that he recognized them all. The dwarf and barbarian were of little interest to him, but the paladin was another story. Indeed a chance for a face to face meeting with the paladin before the siege began was his soul reason for volunteering his men to lead the advanced force.

Along the fortress walls archers covered the riders' advance, as well somewhere upon the battlements Mareth was sure the warlock he had pursued across eastern Eebrook would be lending his magic to the riders' protection. As expected the trio came to a stop well within range of their support.

Eagerly Mareth spurred his horse forward his escorts following suit. His captain Shamus riding just behind and to his right, the standard bearer to the left holding high the silver skull on black banner Mareth had adopted for himself through every incarnation. In the home lands the banner was a thing of legend known to herald death and destruction. Soon the people of these lands would know the same.

"Mareth," the paladin greeted with a slight nod. The man's tone was cool and casual with no trace of fear on his exposed facial features or in his body language. Not smug or overbearing, merely confident.

"Dredrik, I was hoping we would meet again."

"Well that makes one of us. Tell me, what brings you here? Run out of small villages to burn?"

"No need to be rude, Lord Airasmau. I have been sent as an emissary ahead of the Lord General's legions."

"And those are what, two thousand well-armed aids?"

"I'll make this simple," Mareth continued choosing to ignore Dredrik's attempt to anger him. "Surrender this fortress and join the legions, or die."

"Tell your master if he wants Veegal's Wall he'll have to take it from us."

"You have seven hundred men at arms and refugees that have already fled from our forces once. By this time tomorrow there will be fifteen thousand battle tested soldiers and magic wielders ready to decimate everything in their path marching against you. What hope do you have?"

"Come tomorrow evening we shall see."

"So be it, throw your lives away. Try not to die too quickly, I wish to seek you out."

"I promise you this Mareth, before my end I will see your head removed from your shoulders."

Mareth bowed slightly before wheeling the massive warhorse back toward camp. "He seems confident enough," Shamus said as they rode out of earshot.

"They have a plan. I feel the warlock must have found what he was looking for before I flushed him from the assassins' sanctuary. Would it not be grand to see Merca rendered inconsequential? Then perhaps we will finally find a fight worthy of our time."

"We have new problems," Wikkid observed as Mareth lead his party away.

"Bah," Hadrenn scoffed. "Mareth is old news."

"They have a telepath on the inside," Dredrik said. "Called me lord and new our numbers, let us hope we have kept Eertu's findings close enough to the chest we retain some element of surprise."

"One of the sisters perhaps," Hadrenn suggested. "We know Mareth has one of their number in his grasps whether willing or not."

"No, most likely came in with the refugees." Wikkid answered.

"The sisters have the ability to find telepaths," Hadrenn added helpfully Anja talked briefly about it. It is how they recruit."

"Set them to task," Dredrik ordered. "Until the treat is eliminated we keep recruits away from the command staff during the siege to eliminate eavesdropping. Order all citizens and non-combat refugees from the fortress and western district, it's time they moved on to safer grounds. When the time comes that we are forced to retreat ourselves we don't need them in the way."

### Chapter 19

Eertu and Anja stood side by side studying the army amassed just outside archery range. No siege engines either transported in or under construction, indicated the enemy would indeed proceed with a magical assault. 'No surprise there' Eertu thought to himself. It was exactly what he and Anja had been preparing for.

A hundred things could go wrong. Had they mixed the right concoction to withstand the mental assault, were he and Anja strong enough to counter the magic soon to be brought against them? He could spend hours running what ifs through his mind.

"Calm your mind," Anja counseled as if reading his thoughts. "We will need to be extremely focused and in sync."

Eertu took half a dozen deep breaths and pushed all unnecessary thoughts out of mind. The aura of magic had been thickening over the past half hour causing a sensation of being engulfed by an overpowering presence. To an ordinary individual the change was unnoticeable, but to those attuned to magic it was like a thick fog rolling in. He felt it, Anja felt it, and unless he was mistaken so did Dredrik. The man had become uncharacteristically fidgety since the sensations had first assaulted Eertu's own senses.

"Dredrik feels the Aura," Eertu whispered to Anja. "He has never shown any sign of magical abilities before."

"He is awakening to his true self. Far too late to be of use in the coming battle, but if we yet live when this is over I shall have to guide him as best I can."

"What is he?"

"Later, now focus they are beginning."

Eertu pushed his curiosity aside as a familiar chanting began to emanate from just beyond the trenches. The low murmur began building in both volume and enthusiasm causing unease to spread throughout the defenders. The clear moonlight sky began to be cast in a sickly green hue as the chant reached its apex.

As one Anja and Eertu began incantations of their own, hands and arms moving in intricate patterns, eyes aglow as summoned magical powers took hold of their bodies. A basso rumble took hold overpowering all other sounds a streaks of light began falling toward the Fortress.

### . . . . .

Dredrik watched with a sense of dread as the sky began to fall. Memories of the destruction he had witnessed firsthand still fresh on his mind. This was one of two hurdles they would have to survive if they hoped to defend the wall for any time at all. The second, mind alterations causing soldiers to fall upon each other in a rage fueled free for all. If the second was successful they would simply not notice any change.

Hundreds of flaming balls seemed to grow as they barreled down upon the fortress, their brightness causing him to squint. Heat washed over him giving promise to the destruction to come. Just as it seemed impact was imminent the projectiles veered sharply slamming into the enemy lines.

### . . . . .

Mareth watched impassively as Merca used the whole of the legion to call down death upon the fortress. So far events unfolded just as he had seen in every campaign with the Lord General, until now. The first ball of fiery death impacted a mere fifty feet from where he stood with earth shattering force. Men closer to the impact caught fire even as the blast threw them through the air. Mareth himself was thrown to the ground by the shockwave.

Seeing the gruesome death of their comrades the front ranks began to flee but it was to no avail. Death rained down indiscriminately upon the legion as dozens at a time would be incinerated without even time to scream.

Mareth spied the sorcerer still casting from a trancelike state unaware of the destruction being wrought around him. How Merca has not yet fell victim to his own magic was beyond him, but Mareth quickly realized it was up him to act. With great urgency he broke out into a sprint, his armored bulk being nearly toppled many times by close impacts. Grabbing the front of Merca's robes he threw the sorcerer hard to ground. The man's eyes widened as he snapped back into reality and realized what was happening.

"Fool!" Mareth howled. "You nearly killed us all."

"It's the warlock you failed to kill. He is countering my powers," Merca growled as he picked himself up off the ground. "I told you he would be trouble."

"Merca," A deep voice bellowed. The Lord General marched angrily toward Merca, deadly intent in his eyes. His stature easily a match for Mareth, but where Mareth wore solid black plate armor with silver glyphs the Lord General donned chain link armor with gleaming plate shoulders and shin guards. "Tell me why I should not take your head now!"

"Milord, the enemy has powerful casters of their own. They turned the spell upon us. Reports say there is only two or three. All we have to do is keep up the pressure, cause them to use up their strength. With the nearly one hundred magic wielders in the legions we should be able to wear them down. It will just take some time."

"We cannot get close enough to assault them, to force them to use up their powers. The shamans have already reported that the confusion spells have failed. We launched this campaign on the promises that your magic was good enough to overcome all obstacles. Was my trust misplaced?

"No Milord," Merca said. As I said it will just take a bit more time."

"Mareth, what is your opinion?"

"Conventional assault, bring the siege weapons up and unpack them. Use the slaves and prisoners to fill in the trenches and remove obstacles. There is a good change the defenders won't have it in them to bring weapons to bear on their own. Also advance sappers through the trenches using mages to protect them from arrows. They can be carried on platforms so that they can keep up their defensive spells as a raiding party advances. They do not have defenders guarding the gates on the outside, we might get lucky and destroy the gate."

"Proceed," the Lord General ordered after some consideration. "I would rather not execute a long drawn out siege.

### . . . . .

"Movement near the outer trench," Wikkid called out. His keen dwarven eyes well suited for the dark "looks like they have sent in work crews to start filling in the trenches."

"Not much we can do," Hadrenn said. "That is far beyond archery range."

"Not necessarily," Eertu added. "Anja and I can help the arrows along within reason. Not fortress wide, but a select group of archers"

"Civilians," Dredrik observed, "using them to do the work keeping their own out of harm's way."

Captain Barnes sighed "Betting we won't strike against our own people."

"That line represents what we estimate is just out of siege engine range," Dredrik stated flatly. "We don't have a choice. They fill that trench they can move in and pick us apart from range."

"You can't be serious," Eitreen argued. "Those are innocent people."

"I'm sorry but our hands are forced. We do nothing we lose the fortress, we strike the blood of innocents is on our hands."

"That's cold," Eitreen protested.

"It is," Dredrik agreed.

"Movement up the middle, a few hundred picking their way through the pathways," Wikkid warned. "A fair bet they have a plan for taking down the gate."

"Archers make ready!" Barnes ordered. "Standard bolts and arrows!"

Almost as one the archers, mostly refugees, within range readied their weapons eager for a chance at revenge. "Hold," Barnes barked steadying the troops as he waited for the enemy troop to slip into a better field of fire.

"This should be easy, they're all bunched together." Hadrenn said.

"They've not done anything stupidly so far," Wikkid scoffed. "There must be a reason for it."

"Lose!"

Hundreds of arrows and bolts sprang forth only to have the air above the attackers flare and crackle as projectiles bounced harmlessly away. "Mages," Hadrenn muttered.

Eertu and Anja began pouring bolts of destructive energy into the magical barrier adding to the archery assault in an attempt to drain the mages energies but the troop was approaching the gate quickly and the barriers showing no sign of weakening. Dredrik considered ordering the switch to the enchanted arrows but the number of those projectiles preciously few.

"Come Hadrenn, let us meet them outside the gates," Wikkid said as he unslung his deadly axe.

Hadrenn smiled grimly falling in step after Wikkid joined by Vessa, Kathrin, Erica and Lesley. Nichole remained at the battlements by Dredrik's side launching arrows into the oncoming assault team and to transmit orders to Lesley if the need arose.

The party disappeared down the steps leading to the main gate calling for more men at arms to join them as they went. Meanwhile defenders continued to harass the incoming soldiers from above.

### . . . . .

The assaulting force was close now maybe a hundred yards from the wall armed with axe, sword, and spear. Three mages rode upon platforms carried by slaves allowing them to stand stationary and cast their defensive spells as the troop moved. There was no sign of battering ram but many carried torches. It appeared that they intended to either burn the gates down or use magic to blast them open. Projectiles and magical bolts continued to rain down ineffectively upon them.

With a primal roar Wikkid led the charge with nearly a hundred army regulars and militia in tow. All indications were the barriers protected from all angles leaving Wikkid clueless as to what would happen when the defenders smashed into the enemy lines but they were about to find out. A few of the defenders fired bolts and arrows as they charged to the same effect as the projectiles from above.

The two forces were only a dozen strides from each other now. Wikkid made a quick hand gesture and the defenders spread out with the intent of hitting the barrier from as many points as possible. The barrage from the wall came to a halt to avoid friendly fire as two sides crashed. Much to Wikkid's surprise he passed right through burying his axe into the torso of the first man he met then the next falling into a berserker state felling enemies left and right.

Realizing their barrier had been breached the mages changed tactics focusing now on the offensive hurtling fiery death into the defenders. The once focused assault began to falter under the three mages' combined onslaught.

Sensing an impending route Vessa turned her attention toward the mages. With both Wikkid and Hadrenn unable to disengage from the bulk of the fighting she signaled her fellow assassins to engage the mages.

Kathrin struck first having saved her crossbow for an emergency. Her bolt struck the closest mage through the eye socket. With a shriek the man collapsed writhing in an expanding pool of his own blood. One down two to go.

Vessa slipped behind a second mage cutting a bloody swath as she went until she had a clear path to her target. With the mage distracted with another target Vessa had no trouble jumping on his back driving her dagger repeatedly into the man silencing yet another threat.

The final mage realizing his peril turned his attentions toward the assassins. He could feel his powers draining but he would take a few more with him before he was spent, but first that damnable gate. Summoning his most powerful spell he unleashed his full fury against the objective they had been set against. They would have their victory.

Kathrin seeing the final mages intent fought hard to reach the man before he unleashed his spell. It was Erica's target but she had become overwhelmed barely able to keep herself standing let alone eliminate her target. The press of bodies around the mage made it impossible to get close enough to kill leaving Kathrin with only one option to protect the gate. As the mage released his spell Kathrin leapt taking full force the blast meant to disintegrate the great gates of Veegal's Wall. She simply ceased to exist.

The mage howled in fury having the last of his full strength wasted on something as frail as a human body. With that last blast any hope of taking the gate was spent. Lost in that thought he never saw the claymore wielded by Hadrenn until the blade had already passed through his neck.

With all their mages dead the enemy soldiers began a hasty retreat back through the narrow pathways through the trenches and barricades. They did not make it far however as projectiles from the wall massacred the now unprotected troops. Day one belonged to the defenders.

### . . . . .

Mareth watched the disaster unfold in the company of both Merca and Lord General Kuzzak. He could feel the rage radiating from the Lord General as his shock troopers fled. Dying with enemy arrows in the back was probably far more merciful than facing down their masters wrath Mareth mused. The maneuver had almost worked, if only more troops had been committed, then again nobody had expected a counter attack outside the protection of the fortress. Unfortunately there was no chance for a repeat attempt. All mages in the Lord General's employ capable of generating a defensive barrier for any length of time now lie dead.

After several more minutes of silent brooding the Lord General spoke. "Have the engineers begin unpacking our trebuchets, ladders and rams. After the slaves have cleared enough of the trench work we'll pick them apart from range."

On cue a loud commotion broke out as an isolated burst of gale force wind swept through the ranks followed by screams along the trench lines where the prisoners and slaves labored. Immediately cries of 'Retreat!' sounded as slave and soldier alike ran for their lives as projectiles rained down around them.

"Captain, send for Mistress Briana. So far the arcane has failed us. Perhaps it is time we looked toward the elemental for an edge.

"Sir," a muscular bearded man attired similarly as the Lord General answered. "and the siege weapons?"

"As previously ordered, I am not going to underestimate our opponents again. I want all options available."

### Chapter 20

Jillian cried as she had all night. For the second time in her life a bonded sister had been brutally killed. Unlike the first time when she had been spared the death of separation by the love of her younger sister, this time it was the abomination growing insider her that would not let her die.

She had felt it the moment Kathrin perished as if she had suffered the assault herself. Her screams had been so loud that guards burst into the tent weapons drawn expecting a fight but instead found only her writhing on the ground in agony. A healer had been summoned but by the time he had arrived the physical pain was over. All that remained now was a complete emptiness indescribable to those that had never experienced the bond of telepathy.

There was only one thing left for her now, revenge. Invincible until the child is born if what Merca said was true. So be it, if she has to suffer so would others. Mareth, and Merca to start, then on to anybody else she deemed fit to visit with her blades.

Patience is what is required by her now. Soon enough this army will breach the fortress, it was an inevitability. At the height of the chaos she would do as Merca suggested, seek out Mareth when he forces confrontation with the man he had battled at Galnath, then she would slay the sorcerer with the very dagger given to her by him.

### . . . . .

"What do you have to offer, Shaman?"

Mistress Briana stepped closer to the Lord General and bowed deeply. She had been ordered to appear in the General's pavilion at first light, and to have options to present. After some discussion with her colleagues they could think of but one possibility. "The enemy cannot attack what they cannot see, there are enough shaman in camp to summon a thick fog, one that could limit their vision to maybe fifty paces, while leaving us able to see clearly on this side up to the second trench line. Close enough for trebuchet close enough for magic.

"How long can the effect be maintained?" Mareth asked. "We will need time to fill paths through the trenches and clear barricades before we can start the assault."

"Weeks if necessary, Milord. It will take us all to generate the initial effects, but only one at a time is needed to maintain. There is a tradeoff however. We may be too weak to help with the assault itself."

"I am willing to risk that," the Lord General replied. "Return when you are ready to proceed."

Briana bowed again then backed out the way she came. Once clear she made haste to her companions. If they proved their worth here after Merca had failed so grandly then perhaps it would be the shaman, not the sorcerer who held the Lord General's ear. That would elevate her position at very least when the new kingdom was established.

Another thought crept into her mind. The coven was the source of Merca's unusually strong powers. Much could happen over the next few days in the confusion to come, much indeed.

### . . . . .

Dredrik made his way into the infirmary his mission two fold. First check on the wounded, second check on Eitreen. She had left the battlements angrily after he had given the order to fire on the slaves attempting to circumvent their defenses. It was probably the most heart wrenching decision he had ever made. He even went so far as to order only militia and army to take the shots in order to spare the refugees the pain of having to kill their own.

Sixteen wounded men laid on pallets, many of them missing limbs, all of them with grievous wounds dressed in blood soaked rags. The clash had been brief and small in the overall scheme of things but extremely brutal. Of the wounded retrieved only six had been theirs which explained the guards stationed inside. Healers would quickly become a precious commodity, and all three of theirs worked now in one place. If any gained enough strength and will they could quickly remove any chance the wounded had of living through the upcoming battle.

There had been some attempt at interrogation but language was a problem. A mind reader would have been handy, but while Eertu could jump into minds and see through the eyes of targets and even implant thoughts he could not directly read minds. Anja can get a general read of a person, but unable to delve into great details. What little information she had recovered was useless.

He found Eitreen washing up near the back of the room still wearing her now blood covered leather armor, her crossbow and sword leaning in a corner. From her eyes he could see weariness had long overpowered anger.

"Milord," she said as he approached.

Dredrik grimaced at her choice of greeting. "Eitreen that was not an order I had wanted to give. If there had been any other way I would have used it."

"You had a choice, kill them or let them continue," she said plopping down tiredly upon a nearby wooden stool. "They did not."

Dredrik started to form a reply but Eitreen cut him off.

"You made the only choice you could. I am not angry at you just the situation. It hits a bit close to home."

Dredrik grabbed a second stool set it down in front of Eitreen and took a seat. "This is not what I had planned when we left Galnath. In fact I figured we'd be well on our way to Calington by now, then after a short pit stop off to Delentray."

"Delentray, you said that name when we talked in your room. Isn't that the home of the self-proclaimed bandit king?"

Dredrik smiled, "Yes, Julius Sahreen. He loves the Lost Tribes. We do odd jobs for him, and bring in wears from all over Eebrook, and to be honest he uses us to deliver goods brought in by privateers and the like. The place runs off black market money, but located very near Dwarven territory far away from any lands a sensible lord or lady would want to claim dominion over. King Argile eventually granted him title over those lands but royal court does not recognize his lordship, the city is simply left alone."

"I have a feeling if we get out of this alive life might remain just as interesting as it is now.

"You and your people should be well entertained for a while."

"The Galnathians are as much your people as the Lost, Dredrik. They are the ones you sacrificed yourself to save all those years ago and now here you are trying to again."

"Saving them from one situation then dropping them into a possibly worse one is not exactly the actions of a hero."

"A hero," Eitreen shrugged, "maybe not, but a leader trying to do what's right, yes. Speaking of which, why is it you are leading your little group of friends and not Wikkid?"

"Not sure exactly, he just told me one day it was my job now. I've tried asking about it a few times over the years but a dwarf can be very evasive when he wants to."

"Evasive, Wikkid, I don't see him skirting an issue."

Dredrik laughed. "By evasive I of course mean grunt and sharpen his axe menacingly."

Now it was Eitreen's turn to laugh. "That sounds more appropriate."

Both turned to the sound of hurried footsteps to find Hadrenn approaching. "Dredrik, there are happenings outside you might wish to see."

### Chapter 21

"When did this come up?" Dredrik asked as he reached the platform above the main gate.

"Maybe ten minutes ago," Wikkid replied. "Did not roll in so much as simply materialize just outside the wall."

"A blind," Hadrenn muttered.

"Eertu, Anja, anything you can do about this?"

"Not that I can think of," Eertu replied. "The wind blows through here now yet the fog does not even quiver at its passing so there is no way I can move it along nor do I know how to dispel elemental magic."

"Same for me," Anja added.

"Then what happened that night in the Black Rose sanctuary?" Hadrenn whispered to Eertu.

"That was an uncontrollable release of energies. While aware of what was happening and what we were doing when they happened it was completely unfocused and unintended," Eertu whispered back.

"How about mind jumping?" Dredrik asked. "Can we see what they are up to that way?"

Eertu shook his head. "No, I must have line of sight to jump. Only does not apply when jumping back to myself."

"Send us," Vessa volunteered. "Stealth is what we do best."

Dredrik considered the four assassins for a moment painfully aware they had lost one of theirs last night. Two if what he knew about telepaths were true. The woman in Mareth's custody should be dead as well. "Alright, but just recon, if it is revenge you want there will be time enough for that later."

"We know our duty, Milord."

Vessa made a slight hand gesture, and then both she and Lesley bowed slightly and left leaving Erica and Nichole behind looking obviously displeased.

"If I may?" Hadrenn asked.

"Go," Dredrik said motioning the way Vessa had just gone with his eyes and head gesture. "And try not to do anything... irresponsible."

Hadrenn shot Dredrik a mischievous grin followed by a mock right first to heart salute. "Sire," Then hurried after the assassins.

"It is dangerous to send them," Dredrik said after a few moments.

"They are very good at what they do, you must have faith," Anja counseled. "I doubt even Hadrenn will distract Vessa too much."

"It is not their skill that concerns me, it's the fact we still, as far as I know, have an enemy telepath in this fortress. If he or she is watching then the enemy will know they are coming."

"The sisters and I have searched the fortress from one end to the other without finding any trace of a telepath."

Wikkid made a puzzled expression. "Did that include yourselves?"

Anja and Erica exchanged worried glances before Anja said, "Well this is embarrassing."

### . . . . .

Mareth was pleased. The preparations were going much faster than he had anticipated. Much of the assembly work on the trebuchets had been completed overnight leaving only final assembly once it was clear to set up. Now thousands worked to clear a path to get the siege weapons within firing range while protected from the keen eyes of enemy archers by the thick fog conjured by the shaman. Engineers were already promising the ability to open fire within the next two hours. With siege weapons bombarding the fortress from pre-determined positions the legion will sneak its way to the edge of the fog. Mages would destroy the last line of palisades while slaves filled in paths for the troops to pass through. When enough are in position the assault would finally begin. Good, he was itching for blood.

### . . . . .

So far it had been painfully slow going belly crawling at a snail's pace through the remnants of a once prosperous town. Once inside the fog visibility dropped to arm's length further hampering progress. Several times either she, Hadrenn or Lesley had found themselves crawling head first into objects they simply could not see. At the same time the fog offered exactly what they needed, invisibility. A few times voices had given them pause and they would wait. On one occasion all but silent footsteps passed so closely they could hear them breathing, the forms that made them never becoming visible.

After what must have been well over an hour they reached a northeast section of the city wall. There they crossed through a nearby breach and used the wall to shield their movements further until they passed from the fog.

"Hoist me up," Vessa ordered.

Hadrenn put his back against the wall then intertwined his fingers making a step for Vessa. Vessa complied climbing up on Hadrenn's shoulders. Her head just barely cleared the wall. The view was not great but she could make out four towering trebuchets and soldiers marching into the fog.

"It won't be long, men move in and out of the fog, siege weapons are being readied. That is about all I can make out from here. Let me down."

Hadrenn squatted down allowing Vessa to dismount then made a show of stretching after she was clear. Vessa rolled her eyes. "I'm not that heavy."

Hadrenn just shrugged and smiled. "Must be your gear, the rations have not been that good lately."

"That's better. Lesley are you able to link with Nichole?"

"Yes, and she says that it is unwise to try and make it back. It seems they have had a few scouts stick their heads out periodically for a peek."

"If we don't make it back before the assault we'll be cut off from the west," Vessa said.

Hadrenn sat down leaning against the wall. "That's not entirely true, as we've said before the lost tribes are not often welcome in many places. In fact the aristocrats in the eastern kingdom eventually put a bounty on any tribesman caught this side of the border. There are paths through the mountains mostly used by smugglers, arms dealers, and hungry people trying to trade for food and basic necessities."

"What's the catch?"

"It's not easy going. We are going to need supplies, and by the looks of things our friends out there have plenty to spare. I think we should visit for super."

Vessa plopped down next to Hadrenn and rested her head on his shoulder. "Promise me we can cause a little trouble while where there."

"Baby, I wouldn't have it any other way."

### Chapter 22

"Get ready!" Wikkid yelled.

All along the wall archers made ready. Use of special ordnance had already been authorized. When the next engagement begins there would be no stopping until one side or another was destroyed. Dredrik held no illusions about which side that would be. Now it was simply a matter of how much damage they could do before being forced to retreat, if they got the chance to do that."

Of course they had a few tricks up their sleeves Dredrik thought. There were the wards Anja had placed on the walls, along with what surprises she and Eertu could conjure up together. There was Hadrenn, Vessa, and Lesley. It was a good bet those three would do what they could from outside. On second thought they really didn't have very many tricks at all. They would just have to hope what they did have was good enough.

"What do you see?"

"Nothing," Wikkid said peering into the fog, just a feeling."

Dredrik followed Wikkid's gaze unable to make out a thing, but that did not mean anything. Wikkid often had feelings and he was never wrong. Trusting Wikkid's feelings had saved them countless times. "That's good enough for me old friend. Anja, you said the main gate was un-wardable?"

"I am afraid so. The wood was very unique and would not accept any I tried."

"Eertu, they will soon be hurtling big rocks at this gate. Think you can blast them out of the air."

"Alone no, a spell powerful enough to destroy trebuchet ammunition takes time to build up. It will take both Anja and me alternating shots and it will be taxing."

"So be it. We last as long as that gate does. Captain, Barnes, I need you to take command of the second gate. Make sure that gate closes before the enemy gets to it no matter what happens. If we don't make it order a full retreat. Make for Calington and let them know everything.

Barnes smiled grimly. "And get an old slow man out of the way."

"I won't lie and say that was not a factor. But I know I can trust you to carry out those orders without hesitation."

"I assure you when the main gates are destroyed and the hordes are advancing there is not a one of us that could not close those gates fast enough. Good luck, Dredrik. May fortune favor the bold."

"Dredrik, Lesley says we've got incoming," Nichole said.

Fireballs formed instantly in the palms of Eertu's hands growing in intensity with every passing moment. After a brief hesitation Anja did the same thing. A great warcry erupted from the fog as a mass of soldiers spewed forth at the same time boulders burst through the haze barely visibly in the nearly faded daylight. Fire flew from Eertu's hands shattering stone just a few feet from the gate.

The ground in front of the walls lit up as explosion erupted throughout the enemy ranks, the first deadly volley killing more in seconds than what died when Eertu and Anja turned Merca's own spell against them. Screams of the dying echoed off the walls as body parts were thrown many feet higher than the battlements. Still more attackers rushed forward headless of the death their fellows suffered. Ladders were raised and quickly destroyed by the destructive forces wielded by the defending archers. The walls themselves flared brilliantly as both magical and physical assaults were repelled by the wards.

Dredrik and Wikkid watched helplessly as the battle raged around them neither being skilled with ranged weapons, yet both knew that when it came time for their weapons to draw blood the end was near.

### . . . . .

Mareth watched the battle rage through the now thinning fog, the shaman too busy with the assault to worry about keeping up the blind. The defenders had been well prepared indeed but thanks to the Lord General's spy he knew the tide would turn soon. The devices of destruction being employed were limited and soon the advantage would swing again to the legions.

The warlock and the keeper made a formidable pair thwarting every attempt to breach the gates, but their powers were not without limits. He had faced many such adversaries in his time and the key to victory was always the same. Let them expend themselves then move in for the kill.

So that's what he did, waited with his men ready to escort the battering ram in once the treat to it was minimized. Also in reserve were three mages all with the ability to blast the great gates to splinter given enough time to build their strength for an all-powerful release.

He also noticed that Merca was nowhere to be found. The sorcerer was probably with the Lord General still trying to explain why all his normal tricks had failed. If for no other reason he had found a reason to like the warlock standing defiantly upon the battlements. A shame the man could never be turned against his friends.

Standing just a few feet to the left of the warlock stood the target of his aggression. Dredrik, the paladin that did not know he was. Still there had been strength to him in Galnath despite is lack of training in the powers he possessed. All he could hope was that the man would put up a good fight. It had been a long time since he had faced a true challenge. Failing that, there was the dwarf. He had never faced one and yearned to add another trophy.

Not more than a hundred feet behind Mareth Jillian studied her prey. As promised Merca had seen to her guards and released her. She had to stay close if she were to have a chance at her revenge. The protections offered her by the child in her womb almost guaranteed she would survive to get her shot. It was just a matter of waiting for the right moment. For the hundredth time she checked to make sure Merca's dagger remained secure in her belt. Soon she thought, very soon.

### . . . . .

Vessa lead her small party into the back side of the enemy encampment. There were a few guards about, all easily eliminated quietly and bodies hidden. Cautiously they weaved through the maze of the tents grabbing food and supplies where they could be found in preparation for their trek over the mountains.

Their bounty had been abundant so far, most of what they needed already collected. Now they simply sought out targets of opportunity. Who knows maybe they would even get a shot at the enemies' leadership.

A descent sized patrol approached from behind the camp, probably returning from sweeping the roads for stragglers. Vessa motioned for the party to slide into the large tent they hid against. Hadrenn held up an edge while the two women slid under then rolled under himself.

Two men garbed in ragged clothes let out small startled cried as Hadrenn came to his feet. One of the men started to shout an alarm but was cut short as both Vessa and Lesley came up behind them and slit their throats. Both men were guided slowly and silently to the ground as they choked on their own blood.

Hadrenn quickly studied his surroundings, men and women practically nude laid strapped to cots arranged in a circular pattern. They were all gaunt from malnutrition, muscles wasted away. These poor souls had to be in agonizing pain. Lesley voiced what he was thinking.

"Poor bastards, this has to be hell."

"Do we free them or kill them?" Hadrenn asked.

None of the bed ridden people so much as moaned or even wiggled their fingers, yet they breathed. Upon closer inspection Vessa could see their eyelids were held open by adhesive soaked cloths. Looking up above the cots she could see glyphs painted on the ceiling. "Good chance these people are beyond saving. I say we look around for anything useful then we put these souls out of their misery."

### Chapter 23

Time was running out. All the enchanted ammunition had been used up and the Warlock and Keeper were both exhausted. Even the protective wards on the walls were weakening allowing the Fortress to shake from each boulder impact. Ladders were being raised in many places at once now that the threats of explosives were over. Up the middle came a huge battering ram. A storm of flaming arrows found purchase in the timbers but were quickly dealt with before the ram could catch fire. Most of the defenders had very little close range combat training, and it was quickly coming to that. It was not hard to see Wikkid felt the same way but it was Anja who voiced that concern first.

"Dredrik I think it is time to withdraw," Anja said as if reading his mind. It is a good distance from this wall to the next and we will want to be as far away as possible when I present my final solution."

"What final Solution?" Dredrik asked.

"Another enchant Eertu helped me weave into the outer walls on the basis that you did not want to leave anything behind for the enemy."

"Trust me," Eertu said. "You are going to love it."

"Alright, signal fallback to the second wall."

Eertu shot a spell into the air that burst into brilliant blue and red colors lighting up the sky. As rehearsed the troops at the furthest reaches of the wall began to withdraw. As one section would clear then so would the next. Already enemy troops were making purchase on the abandoned sections of the battlements as resistance faded. A few stayed at their posts buying precious time for their comrades to escape but were quickly overrun.

"Our turn," Dredrik shouted.

None of them had to be told twice racing down the steps like hell itself was about to encompass them. No more than a dozen paces from the wall the sound of solid impacts on the main gate could be heard. Mareth had wasted no time in ordering his men forward when the evacuation of the outer wall began.

At one hundred paces the great gate exploded in a shower of fire and splinters. Mareth emerged from the still settling debris claymore in hand leading the charge. The name "Dredrik!" bellowed from his lungs. Enemy forces continues to flow through the archway like a tidal wave while even more clambered over the wall eager to get at the enemy that had cost them so dearly already.

Dredrik turned toward the voice to see Mareth pointing his claymore at him in an obvious challenge mirroring Dredrik's own challenge at the gates of Galnath. The mage next to Mareth launched a fireball not at him but at Eitreen who at turned to stand beside him. "No!" he shouted as he quickly stepped into its path shield at the ready. Something unbidden kicked in. His chest scar burned as an unknown word spewed from his lips. The blast hit his shield full force only to dissipate in a sphere around him. Dredrik barely had time to register his shock when Eitreen stepped up beside him and loosed and arrow hitting the dumbfounded mage square in the chest sending him toppling backwards.

Quickly Dredrik took stock of the situation. Barnes had followed his orders to the letter, the gate on the second wall already closing rapidly. There was no way most of these soldiers were going to make it to the relative safety of the second wall before the gates slammed shut. Enemy forces continued to flow through the archway like a tidal wave while even more clambered over the wall eager to get at the enemy.

"Anja the final solution you mentioned, now's the time."

"We are still dangerously close."

"Do it!"

As Anja began to cast Dredrik realized that the troops were looking at him waiting for a sign of what they should do next most coming to the same conclusion as he about their chances of reaching the second wall. So be it, if this is how it had to end then so be it. At least Mareth would know he was in a fight.

Dredrik looked toward Eitreen and mouthed the words "I love you," which she returned then he raised his mace high above his head. "Charge!"

At once the defenders surged forward having nothing to lose. Those carrying only bows and crossbows opened fire. Enemy troops were falling prey to deadly accurate projectiles as the two forces converged.

Dredrik noticed that the outer wall had lit up with lines of angry red energy that resembled a spider web of cracks in the ancient stone. A low hum began to emanate as the ground began to vibrate. He considered it only briefly as Mareth barreled toward him claymore raised ready to strike as soon as he was within range. As Mareth's Claymore came down on Dredrik's shield the great wall exploded.

Thousands were slain instantly as rock was violently thrown in all directions. Those upon the walls were shredded by shear concussive forces while those further away fell prey to shrapnel of all shapes and sizes. Pieces the size of houses crashed to the ground crushing scores.

Anja and Eertu had done their craft well as most the destructive force was projected outward into the bulk of the enemy forces but still shockwaves and tremors sent most in the interior crashing to the ground.

Dredrik and Mareth however continued their duel without pause.

Dredrik stayed in close battering away at Mareth with both hammer and shield not giving Mareth the room he needed to properly use his weapon. The seals and etchings upon his armor shield and hammer began to radiate a soft blue light. He could feel an energy flowing through his body giving him strength and speed he did not believe was possible."

Frustrated Mareth kicked out forcing Dredrik in jump back. Instead of pressing the attack he rolled away discarded his claymore and drew a long sword and dagger in one deft motion.

Dredrik did not wait for Mareth however charging straight into the man giving him no chance to recover.

### . . . . .

The Lord General Kuzzak howled in fury as he watched the outer wall explode from his vantage point at base camp. All of his plans were unraveling before him at the hands of a few thousand pathetic peasants. No, he thought, at the hands of five or six individuals. "Merca!" he barked. "Do you still have the ability to call down the sky?"

"Yes, Milord but the effect will be weakened greatly without the focus of the legion. It will not destroy stone, but should inflict great harm upon flesh."

"That will suffice."

Merca bowed than began the incantations needed as he weaved his hands leaving trails of light as they moved. It was a good bet the warlock and the keeper were in no position interfere with him now. His body grew warm as the power began to grow within his body, slowly at first but then faster and faster. The green haze began to form and spread toward his target. Just as he could feel the spell was about to reach its apex something went horribly wrong. The power was ebbing from his body instead of building for release. Like a smack in the face it hit him. "The Coven!" he did not wait for permission from the lord general before sprinting toward the tent where his coven was housed.

### . . . . .

"What the blazes was that?" Vessa asked as the ground stilled at last.

"Seems the outer walls were destroyed," Lesley informed them. "Pitched fighting has broken out this side of the second wall. That's all Nichole sent, she seemed a bit busy.

Hadrenn felt a sudden pang of guilt about not being with his friends when they needed him most. Though he doubted one more sword would make much a difference it was a matter of honor. "Looks like we are about out of time," He said gesturing toward the pitiful souls strapped to the cots.

Vessa simply nodded. It was a despicable job but one that would have to be done.

Hadrenn stepped closer to one leaning in to examine the woman before him. His previous perception remained. These people were suffering and being used for something foul. Suddenly the woman spoke, eyes lit up with a green glow. Hadrenn jumped back fumbling for his sword knocking over the few items from a small table behind him that the tremor had not already taken care of.

Vessa laughed as Hadrenn recovered his balance and tried hopelessly to stop the remaining glass beakers from crashing to the ground. Her laughter quickly died when she realized the chant was all too familiar.

"Oh, I recognize that." Hadrenn said.

"I think we all do," Lesley added drawing her dagger and looking toward Vessa for conformation.

Vessa gave a quick nod and drew her own as Hadrenn did the same. The course was clear now, these people had to die. As one the three plunged their daggers into one victim after another, none of them feeling particularly proud of the act they were carrying out.

"We better move," Hadrenn said. "You can bet somebody is noticing what we just did."

"That would be correct," an angry voice snarled for the entry portal hands and eyes already aglow with power.

All three ducked for cover as the sorcerer released his spell, not single bolts but multiple strands of green energy ripped through the tent striking anything and everything in their path turning whatever the tendrils of energy touched into flaming shrapnel.

Vessa cried out as a large shard of wood embedded itself in her right leg. Quickly she rolled to her back and brought her crossbow to bear forcing the sorcerer to duck back outside the tent as a bolt sped past his head by just a fraction of an inch.

Lesley grabbed Vessa by the collar and pulled her toward the back of the tent while Vessa hurled obscenities in the general direction that Merca had retreated. The tent began to fill with smoke as fire began to spread from the sorcerer's assault.

Merca reappeared ready to strike again only this time Hadrenn was ready for him. No sooner had he appeared than Hadrenn flung a small wooden stool. It spun end over end crashing into the sorcerer's face sending him sprawling unconscious on the ground.

Quickly Hadrenn raced to the back of the tent and used his great sword to cut a new exit then picked Vessa up off the ground cradling her in his arms. Lesley made sure to grab the satchels of supplies they had gathered then exited first signaling Hadrenn the way was clear. They slipped away as the sound of heavy boots raced toward the tent.

At last they made it to a nearby makeshift stable were horses were kept ready in case they where needed by the cavalry. Then men who had come to check out the disturbance had pursued in the wrong direction just leaving them two more obstacles to take care of before they could make their escape. Hadrenn stayed back with Vessa as Lesley snuck up on the first of two guards slitting his throat. The second guard saw his fellow drop but before his brain even registered what happened a bolt pierced his throat strangling out the warning he was about to shout.

Hadrenn helped Vessa onto a horse than handed her the reins. Her face was pale and she sat wobbly on the saddle. After a quick glance back toward the fortress and the friends he could no longer help he mounted behind Vessa deciding she would not have the strength to ride far on her own.

Lesley secured the supplies on a second horse and fastened its reins to the back of her saddle on the third. With a deft leap she was mounted and the three disappeared northward.

### Chapter 24

Wikkid's axe bit into yet another opponent trying to hold back the tide of warriors threatening to overwhelm them. Directly behind him Anja and Eertu dealt death in mass as He Eitreen Nichole and Erica fought to make sure they had time to cast their deadly spells. Luckily the collapse of the outer wall had cut off the attackers from reinforcements but plenty had slipped through beforehand.

He risked a glance at Dredrik and Mareth. Dredrik's entire body was now engulfed in a dull blue glow making his swift movements a disorienting blur. Whatever effect he was under served him well as he matched the super human speed of Mareth stroke for stroke, but to Wikkid's trained eye it was apparent that regardless of the perks he was receiving Dredrik was slowing. Several times he had tried to break free and lend a hand but the attackers had zeroed in on Eertu and Anja.

Wikkid's split second of distraction almost cost him as a spear nearly ran him through. Only lightning quick reflexes and years of experience saved his life as he sidestepped the thrust and swung his axe around in a decapitating arc. Even as the man's head fell to the blood soaked ground another warrior took his place. Wikkid resigned himself to the fact that for now Dredrik was on his own.

### . . . . .

Jillian was a woman possessed. After barely making it through the gates the protection afforded her by her condition was put to the test. Her body withstood a pounding that should have left her no more than a bloody pulp buried beneath the remains of the once impenetrable fortress wall. After replacing her destroyed sword she set out on a bloody rampage through the legion's ranks cutting her way toward the bane of her existence.

At least half a dozen more times she should have died from various assaults. Not through lack of skill did the blows connect but lack of concentration. With no concern for injury she focused solely on the attack.

That fact Mareth bothered to parry, block, and counter spoke volumes of the power he must believe the glowing warrior possessed. There was no doubt this was the moment Merca had spoken of. A feral smile formed upon her lips as she stalked ever closer to her mark.

### . . . . .

Dredrik was in trouble and he knew it. Every hammer swing, shield bash, or piece of trickery he knew Mareth seemed one step ahead of him. Being quicker is what was keeping him alive but fatigue was setting in. Whatever power was coursing through his body and armor seemed to feed off his energy, and of that he was running out of fast. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, arms protested with every swing.

Then something changed. Mareth jabbed straight at him with his dagger forcing him to parry with his mace and just like that Dredrik found himself on the defensive blocking and parrying blow after blow unable to take back the advantage.

Mareth began to laugh. "Good paladin. This is the most fun I've had in a few life times, but it's over now." Mareth batted both the paladins shield and mace aside and kicked out, his foot catching Dredrik in the stomach sending the paladin sprawling to the ground.

Dredrik tried to rise but Mareth was on him in an instant planting his foot down hard into Dredrik's chest pinning him to the ground. Dredrik tried to strike out against Mareth's knee with his mace but Mareth batted the weapon from Dredrik's hand.

"Die well," Mareth sneered as he brought his weapon high point down ready to impale Dredrik with one final thrust.

Dredrik readied himself for the inevitable but the blow never came. A huge familiar axe caught Mareth midriff. The blow was unable to get through Mareth's protection but the sheer force of the blow knocked the warrior back. Dredrik rolled to his feet grabbing his mace as he went. Both Wikkid and Dredrik squared off against a now furious Mareth.

Mareth began to charge as two bolts of energy hit home staggering him backwards.

He gathered his senses and hurled his dagger into the keepers shoulder. The woman screamed clutching at her disabled arm. Wikkid and Dredrik both charged as Mareth rushed to meet them snatching a small axe from a dead soldier's hands in mid stride. A crossbow bolt struck Mareth in the chest but it ricocheted harmlessly away as the three men closed the distance.

Wikkid swung his axe in a powerful arching swing that should have connected at Mareth's waste but the huge warrior dove over the swing then rolled neatly back to his feet at the same time side stepping a mace strike from Dredrik. Mareth's sword clanged harmlessly off Dredrik's shield but Mareth managed to hook Dredrik's leg and trip him up.

Wikkid leapt into the air axe raised high over his head. Mareth snapped off an impossible side kick catching the dwarf's face in mid-flight with the sole of his boot. Wikkid's head snapped back and his axe flew harmlessly away as his body landed with a bone crushing thud.

Eitreen could see the exhausted Eertu trying to gather strength for another spell but Mareth was closing in quickly on the warlock. Desperately she flung the ineffectual crossbow sending the weapon smashing against Mareth's helmet. The warrior ignored Eitreen's assault and continued after Eertu sizing him up as the greater threat. A mistake, Eitreen barreled into the back of Mareth's knee toppling him to the ground.

Both Eitreen and Mareth scrambled to their feet but Mareth was the quicker knocking Eitreen out with a powerful strike that caught Eitreen in the temple with the pommel of his sword.

Eertu got off another spell at point blank range but he was weak from exhaustion. The spell simply dissipated over Mareth's hulking form. Eertu back peddled only to trip on debris and fall painfully on his back forcing the air from his chest. Eertu closed his eyes unable to move or breath, expecting the death blow at any moment. It didn't happen.

Mareth let loose an agonizing scream as he sunk to his knees blood frothing from his mouth. The pain was one he had felt before, one he should have been expecting. A deadly mix of poison and magic spread throughout his body carried by his own blood delivered by a weapon that had been his death before. Seems he had underestimated Merca's need for his help. So be it, there was still some manner of revenge to attain.

It occurred to him as the paladin and his companions cautiously surrounded him that the fighting inside the courtyard had all but died out. Very few defenders remained standing, but none of the attackers that made the breach before the wall came down stood. The paladin and his dwarf friend stood directly in from of him now weapons at the ready.

"Dwarf," Mareth managed with a rasping voice. "The sorcerer Merca, the man responsible for most the destruction wrought so far, he seeks the Alminthium Stone." Merca watched as the dwarfs face contorted with both recognition and worry. "Good you know of it. It is why the sorcerer joined the Lord General's invasion of these lands. An emissary is already in place making treaty, offering to return large parcels of land if they march with him on Calington.

Wikkid said nothing merely absorbed what Mareth had said then nodded.

"As for you Jillian," Mareth whispered. He had not seen her, but knew she was the one who plunged the knife in his back. "I will see you soon, Mother."

He cried out again as Jillian gave the blade a twist then starred directly into Dredrik's eyes. "You have a promise to keep paladin."

"So I do," Dredrik growled swinging his hammer so that the axe blade side sliced cleanly through Mareth's neck, his defensive powers no longer present to stem the decapitating blow. Mareth's head bounced off the ground as his body collapsed into a heap of useless flesh.

Dredrik caught his breath as he took in the situation. The wall was gone, in its place a pile of rubble holding the remnants of the attacking army at bay. It would take some time for the legion to pick its way through the rubble, but not too long. Only a few handful of defenders remained standing on this side of the second wall, probably only a few hundred on the other. The fight was over. They had accomplished all they could.

He spied Eitreen lying face down on the ground and rushed over rolling her onto her back. A flood of relief came over him as he realized she was still breathing. He shook her gently calling her name until her eyes opened.

"Am I dead?"

"You feel any pain?"

"Plenty," she said as Dredrik helped her sit up.

"Then you're alive," Dredrik said pulling Eitreen to her feet, "for the moment, everyone else alive?"

"Barely." Anja said walking slowly supported heavily by Eertu. "I fear Erica did not survive the assault however."

Wikkid simply grunted.

Jillian approached Anja and kneeled down before her. "Keeper I have failed you and the Order."

Anja placed a hand upon Jillian's head. "No child, you may have just saved everybody here."

"There is much you don't know."

"And it can be discussed later."

"That pile of rubble won't hold them long," Dredrik said. "It's time to go, full retreat while we can still do so with some order.

Wikkid leaned heavily on the haft of his axe. Blood flowed freely from his nose. "Sorry lad, we will have to part company for a time, and I am going to need Anja and Eertu's help."

"The Alminthium Stone," Dredrik said recalling Mareth's proclamation.

"Aye, if Mareth was telling the truth we cannot let the sorcerer get that amulet."

"What is the stone?"

"Trouble," Anja said. "Created by a dark mage over a millennia ago. It could make the power Merca has displayed insignificant by comparison. It and this Merca will have to be dealt with."

"And I must see to the tribes and our contract with King Argile," Dredrik stated. "Get them as far from Eebrook as possible while we still can." He took one last look around at the carnage wrought on the once great fortress. "I guess that's that," he said at last."

"So it is," Wikkid agreed.

The retreat was sounded and the party relieved to find their mounts still under guard and packed for travel in the western stables. After a quick check to make sure King Argile's sword was secured on his steed Dredrik mounted then offered a hand to Eitreen. She accepted and he pulled her onto the back of the horse. The western city began to burn as troops put fire to everything as they fled.

The party stayed long enough to make sure everybody got clear. Enemy troops could be heard moving closer, probably outside the second wall now.

Wikkid rode up next to Dredrik where the two were facing each other. They clasped wrists in the warrior's handshake. "Until we meet again," Wikkid said.

"Until we meet again," Dredrik agreed. "We'll wait for you at Delentray."

Wikkid simply nodded.

They parted company. Wikkid Eertu and Anja rode north to Mal-Karak. Dredrik, Eitreen, Nichole and Lesley went west to Calington.

### Epilogue

Samuel Argile watched over the eastern portion of Calington from the balcony of his study high up in the royal spire. It was not exactly a pleasant day, the air was cool and damp, the sun hid behind a thick layer of clouds. There was no wind though, so the temperature was fairly tolerable. Footsteps crept up behind him and waited patiently till he acknowledged the persons presence. "You have news Regent?"

Regent Lord Reginald Dravok stepped upon the balcony next to the newly crowned king of Eebrook. "I have Milord. Veegal's Wall fell just hours ago."

"Hmph," Samuel voiced in response. "I had hoped they'd last a day or two longer, but it is as foreseen."

"Not exactly Milord. The defenders made quite a showing of themselves. Our spy confirms over half the invaders were killed in the taking. Your visions saw the fortress overran without much effort. Perhaps withdrawing our forces was a Mistake."

"Seconding guessing me Reginald?"

"Not you Lord, merely the visions you have been receiving. Your father was renowned in his skills as a seer and his last visions lead him to his doom." Samuel did not respond immediately leaving Reginald to wonder if he had crossed a line with the young king. The young man's temperament and demeanor were more in line with his grandfather's than his fathers. In his opinion that was not a good thing.

"My father died shaping events so that things would turn out as they are unfolding. It is the reason he seeded the island of Rhonin to this commoner, the newly titled Lord Dredrik Airasmau. For some reason he was enthralled with the man and the Dread Legion he led."

"He was the man who took charge of Veegal's Wall. If the reports are true you father was right to place trust in him and his people."

Samuel took one last deep breath of fresh air then walked back into the study, Reginald right behind him closing the balcony doors. "My father was wrong about a few things. I will not be leaving with this King Airasmau. I do not believe the full line of events was available to father when he hatched his scheme to ensure the royal line. I am not retracting my father's gift to the.. What is it they call themselves?"

"The lost," Reginald said

"Yes the Lost. The conditions will only be changed slightly. The sister to the one who leads the invaders is coming and she brings her own army with her. This will create an interesting power struggle, and one that must happen if we are to survive as a nation. The dwarves, this Lord General, his sister, even the lost will all play a role before the end. We play our cards right we come out all the more powerful. Even the dwarves will fall at our feet."

Reginald felt a chill run down his spine. They were facing annihilation and this fool was talking about conquering the dwarves. No attempt to gain footing past the Mal-Karak foothills were ever successful at the height of Eebrookian power. "As you say, Milord."

"Indeed. Leave me now so that I can contemplate our future."

Reginald took a deep breath after shutting the door behind him. He had a secret the King was unaware of. Princess Kiasa too had the power of foresight, the first female Argile to do so, and she had kept it a secret from all until recently. And her visions told a largely different tale than Samuel's. Her visions were soaked in the blood of Eebrook.

### . . . . .

Merca marched angrily to his newly commandeered tent after a long unpleasant discussion with the Lord General. There were plenty of empty ones by the time they took Veegal's Wall. It took some convincing and a bit of subtle mind altering magic to convince the General that he still had worth. It was a demeaning situation. If not for his powers none of the Lord Generals family would be more than petty warlords fighting for survival amongst other warring petty lords.

After some doing he finally convinced the General to send him north to try and solidify their new treaty with the Dwarves. Of course he kept the Alminthium stone a closely guarded secret. Soon he would need nobody, answer to nobody, and the world would be his for the taking. Then there would be a reckoning. This he swore.

### To be continue in The Alminthium Stone

