 
## SOLDIERS OF RUIN

_______________________________

### AIELUND SAGA : Book 3

### STEPHEN L. NOWLAND

### Smashwords edition

Copyright 2013-2019 Stephen Louis Nowland

### 2019 Final Edition

Map Illustration by Cornelia Yoder

http://www.corneliayoder.com

The Author asserts the moral right to be

identified as the author of this work.

Table of Contents

World Map

Local Map

Prelude

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

About the Author

Prelude

The hour was late at the Fair Maiden Inn near the center of Fairloch, capital of Aielund, and most of its patrons had already sought their beds for the night. A few people remained, talking quietly amongst themselves as they nursed drinks near one of several fireplaces that made the cavernous space of the inn's common room a comfortable place to spend a cold winter's evening.

The dull murmur of conversation and the occasional _clink_ of cutlery on plates was as nothing to one of the inn's patrons, who sat by herself at a table, eyes closed and a look of serenity on her face. Chaos, horror and death were prominent in her recent past, a far cry from the simple life as a member of the clergy. For Nellise Sannemann, here, in the moment, there was peace.

Her white-blond hair was tied back in a tail at the nape of her neck, and her slender form was robed in white, as was typical for one of the clergy. Ordinarily, the halls of a cathedral would be a more appropriate place to meditate, but for Nellise, that was no longer an option. Not that it was a problem of course. Inner peace could be attained in the loudest of environments if one was disciplined enough, but her rise in prominence of late had brought both praise and criticism for the priestess. There was no longer a place for her in the ranks of the Church of Aielund, and so she had chosen to walk a different path.

Besides, there was something reassuring about meditating to the sounds of common people going about their lives. She felt a stronger connection to those she sought to protect, and for whom she had willingly sacrificed so much. This, more than anything else, was the source of her motivation and serving the common good reaffirmed her faith in ways she had never felt before.

Noticing her mind wander, Nellise brought her attention back to the subtle noises in the environment, allowing them to pass through her mind without reaction. She performed this ritual every day to clear her mind and spirit, though it was becoming more challenging of late. Nellise winced as the image of bodies piled high in the caves of Akora flashed through her mind, a young woman she had befriended earlier visible amongst the dead. It was a traumatic moment who's sting was gradually easing with the passage of time, though today the memories haunted Nellise more than usual.

"Is this a bad time?" a man's voice inquired softly, as if undecided between wanting her attention and feeling guilty at disturbing her.

"Good evening, Prelate Carver," Nellise answered without opening her eyes, easily recognising the church-appointed royal priest. "I was about to retire for the evening but if you and your companions have something to say, go ahead."

"You are quite perceptive," chuckled a second man, his voice older and less formal. Nellise opened her golden eyes to regard the three priests who, much like herself, were dressed in white robes beneath their heavy winter longcoats. "I'm sure you're familiar with Prelates Langford and Blain."

"Only by name," Nellise answered. "I can't help but notice all three of you gentlemen are important voices in the Resolute Heralds chapter. I feel a lecture coming on."

"We only wish to talk," Carver assured her as the three men removed their coats and pulled up wooden chairs to sit in. "If you would prefer more secluded surroundings, we could move this to the cathedral."

"You know I'm not going to agree to that," Nellise answered succinctly. "Right here will be fine. Perhaps I can offer you gentlemen a bowl of hot soup? The nights are long and cold."

"Thank you but no," Carver said, speaking for his companions with whom he exchanged a quick glance. "I have no doubt you're in need of further rest to recover from your ordeal so we won't keep you any longer than necessary."

"If you've come here to ask for clarification on my motives, I don't have anything further to add to what has already been discussed with the Hierarchy," Nellise sighed, reluctant to go through this whole thing again. "I cannot and will not stand idly by when innocent people are in danger, and I will arm myself to protect myself and others. This philosophy is at odds with the Heralds, and thus, we are no longer affiliated."

"We are familiar with your reasoning," Prelate Blain, a tall, thin man with a receding hairline and sharp features informed her. "In the light of recent events, we are most reassured from your involvement, knowing you fought enemies of both the Crown and the Church of Aielund, and in this regard, we thank you."

"That's refreshing," Nellise remarked. "I sense there is a 'but' coming."

"I'm sure you recall the death of Senator Johnson," Prelate Langford pointed out, his old and gravelly voice matching his rough appearance. His words finally brought into focus the purpose of this impromptu chat.

"Ah," Nellise murmured, feeling the peace of her brief time meditating diminishing rapidly. "You're here to speak with me about Pacian Savidge."

"Specifically, his conduct," Carver clarified, "and the frankly bewildering fact that you appear to be supporting this... criminal."

"Regardless of what you may think," Blain added, "the senator should have been taken into custody and interrogated. Simply killing the man after his defeat was an act of sheer barbarism."

"I don't disagree with you," Nellise answered. "We went over this with the duke afterwards and I assure you, the topic was covered extensively."

"Indeed it was," Carver agreed, "and that issue is for His Grace to deal with. We are more concerned with you, Nellise. First you break your vows against arming yourself, and now seem to be forgiving the actions of Mister Savidge, which in some way could be construed as _condoning_ them, to say nothing of the savage woman whose company you now keep. Valennia, is it? The two of them hearken back to the old ways of tackling our problems, with the sword rather than the law. We are not some frontier kingdom dispensing justice at the tip of the spear. We are the foremost civilisation in the known world and we and our representatives must comport ourselves accordingly."

"What has happened that would cause you to fall so far?" Langford pressed in hushed tones. "Do you really think going around killing people, in particular our leaders – no matter how corrupt – is the way to solve our problems?"

"Certainly not," Nellise responded, remaining calm in what had indeed turned out to be an interrogation of sorts. "I admit, I was as surprised and horrified as anyone when Senator Johnson was murdered."

"Then shouldn't Pacian be in jail right now?" Blain argued.

"I'm surprised he's not, but it was the duke's decision and I stand by it."

"Why?" Carver asked, suddenly realising he was speaking too loudly as one of the inn's customers strolled past. The conversation paused in awkward silence until the man was out of earshot, before continuing. "This is the heart of the issue for the Heralds," he went on in a lower voice. "Why do you stand by this man who so flagrantly ignores our laws?"

"He has been of service to the kingdom," she replied to the eye-rolls of the priests, "even if we don't agree with the manner in which he does it."

"In this regard, how is he different to the criminals and monsters you yourself wish to fight?" Langford argued.

"Because he's on our side," Nellise hissed. "He may be broken in some ways, but in my personal experience he has only sought to fight those who obviously need to be stopped, and if he lacks faith in the ability of our system of justice to put people like Johnson behind bars, then that's hardly his fault. People of wealth have the uncanny knack of avoiding jail and, in some cases prosecution altogether. Whenever Pacian has killed one of these criminals, in his view it is the only way to truly stop them and after everything I've seen, I can hardly blame him.

But know this," Nellise went on, holding up a hand to stop all three men interrupting her at the same time. "I believe I can help him see the error of his ways. Yes, it will take time and patience. Pacian may be a force for destruction at present, but if nothing else, I can point him at the kingdom's enemies and use his particular talents for the common good."

"You believe you can control this man?" Langford remarked with quiet incredulity.

"I believe I can _redeem_ him," Nellise corrected.

"After he has murdered everyone you feel unworthy," Carver stated coldly. "We aren't warriors, Nellise, nor do we determine who lives and who dies. The Resolute Heralds show the world that we stand for the innocent, and that we can deal with problems without resorting to violence. We are a beacon of light to humanity, and you jeopardise that with your actions and choices."

"You are taking a grave risk consorting with this man," Prelate Blain added gravely, "one we cannot approve of."

"Then it's a good thing you have no sway over me anymore," Nellise retorted, finally sick of the conversation. "Continue with your good works gentlemen, and know that I both respect and support you and the Church of Aielund. I have chosen to walk a different path, and only blessed Kylaris will guide me upon it."

"Dear Nellise, if you were less prominent in the Church, we wouldn't be making an issue out of this," Carver explained to her with a cool expression. "You are an example to others, and word is spreading of your deeds. We wish to manage the situation for the benefit of everyone, including you."

"How patronising," Nellise murmured.

"Do you harbour feelings for Pacian?" Blain bluntly asked, catching Nellise off guard. A stir of feelings within confused her for a moment, for she hadn't really had time to process them herself.

"Even if I did, that is hardly your business," she answered after hesitating.

"It would answer many of our questions concerning your attitude towards him," Langford added, folding his hands together on the table before him. "A simple yes or no will suffice."

"No," Nellise answered curtly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must get some rest. Good evening, gentlemen." The three priests looked to each other and reluctantly took her hint, standing up and pushing their seats back into place.

"This isn't over," Carver said after the other two bowed slightly and walked away. Nellise didn't dignify him with a reaction, but after he left, she sighed at the continuing friction she was getting from the political structure of the Church. It was nothing she couldn't handle, but it wasn't like she didn't have enough to deal with at the moment.

The hour was late and she was the last one sitting in the common room as the fires burned low. She hadn't quite completed her earlier meditation and so closed her eyes, hoping for a few more minutes of calm. This time, peace eluded her as visions of Pacian killing Senator Johnson played over in her mind. She bowed her head as the words of the priests echoed within and not for the first time, Nellise wondered if she was doing the right thing.

Prologue

Aiden Wainwright struggled for each breath as he dodged the whirring blade that narrowly missed him time and again. Spotting a break in his opponent's defences, he swung his own weapon and was finally able to force his opponent back. His opponent was quick, skilled with the blade, and not afraid to humiliate him when he failed to score a hit.

Swearing under his breath, Aiden thought he saw an opportunity to stab at his foe only to discover it was a feint, leaving him unbalanced and out of position. He could only watch as his wooden sword was knocked out of his hands once again, landing on the cold floor a few feet away.

He leaned against the wall in Fairloch Castle's barracks and ran one of his hands through his cropped black hair, despising this rigorous training, yet seeing the need for it at the same time. The stone walls of the barracks were lined with racks for weaponry and armour, mostly empty after the king had taken just about everything of use to fight his war in the west.

In spite of the cold, sweat beaded on his brow and ran down his face from the prolonged fight. He cast a wary eye at his two companions, the king's spymaster known only as Mister Kinsey, and the king's daughter, Criosa Roebec, his opponent for the day.

"I've told you before, Aiden," Kinsey warned, "watch your opponent's eyes, not her blade." He was of average height, dressed in a dark longcoat and leaned upon an ornate cane. His short dark hair was turning gray at the temples and his olive skin contrasted sharply with the gray stubble on his chin and jawline.

"She's a distracting adversary," Aiden replied between breaths, holding up his hand to signal his desire for a break. "And frankly, she's better than me."

"Thanks, but I could use a brief reprieve as well," Criosa added, standing more easily only a few feet from Aiden. Her blond hair was shoulder length, tied into a tail at the back of her neck. Her large blue eyes and fine features revealed her royal heritage, yet the slight smile on her thin lips showed she was enjoying an activity most noblewomen wouldn't dream of doing, let alone the practical boots, pants and blouse she wore.

The princess had invited Aiden to the castle early in the morning, only days after his victory at the senate over the assassins who had attempted to murder over a dozen of the city's most powerful men. Still weary from the battle, he had expected a nice, relaxing breakfast with Criosa before he and his companions set out for the south, but instead found himself learning the art of sword fighting, with Mister Kinsey providing advice from the sidelines.

This, as it happened, was after she had insisted on trying to teach Aiden a few tricks from one of her spell books. She had been under the impression he was a novice wizard, due to his apparent mastery of arcane relics and scrolls. Yet after an hour of study, she learned that he was, for the most part, relying on luck and a smattering of knowledge he'd gleaned from years of studying whatever arcane books he could get his hands on.

In light of this revelation, she instead gifted him with something else of value — a lightweight breastplate trimmed with gold, similar to that worn by the nobility. Its weight was a matter of perspective, of course, since Aiden had never worn one in his life and found it slightly more comfortable than having an anvil strapped to his body.

"You know, I could probably give you a good match if you let me take this damned thing off," Aiden suggested to Criosa, wrapping his knuckle against the breastplate.

"That would defeat the purpose of this exercise," Kinsey explained evenly. "As I've told you before, Mister Wainwright, you're in dire need of training. For your own sake, it is essential you become accustomed to moving around in combat while wearing armour, and you can't do that if you're not wearing it."

"I'm not doing too badly," Aiden protested, picking up his wooden sword and preparing for another bout. "I managed to survive weeks of fighting without being killed."

"Aiden, you were almost cut to shreds on more than one occasion," Criosa protested, showing genuine concern. "You and your friends only survived because of Nellise's healing, and that of the little raelani woman. One of these days you're going to be run through with a sword and they won't be able to save you. Leathers are no substitute for proper steel armour, sir, so you're going to wear it, or I shall become very cross with you."

"Point taken," Aiden condeded.

"If you've managed to catch your breath, you should try again," Kinsey advised. Apparently in full agreement, Criosa dashed in and tapped Aiden on his breastplate with the point of her weapon before he could react.

She smiled playfully as he raised his sword and slowly circled her, taking measure of her defences as he plotted a way to actually win for a change. As quick as a flash, Criosa's sword came towards him, this time to be intercepted by his own. Their weapons clacked again and again as Aiden managed to parry each swing. Sensing a rhythm to her attacks, he anticipated her next one and stepped in close, finally landing a blow on her side.

"Very good," Kinsey congratulated him, as Criosa raised her sword in salute. "You might turn out to be a halfway decent swordsman, if you put your mind to it."

"Where did you learn to fight so well, Highness?" Aiden asked of Criosa as he lowered his weapon. "I didn't realise ladies of the court were taught the intricacies of fencing."

"You are correct, for the most part," Criosa explained, sheathing her sword on her hip. "It is considered unseemly for noble women to learn fighting skills, but I used to sneak in here to watch the Master of Arms teaching the royal guard, and found I had a taste for it."

"Ignoring protocol, I sought tuition from masters of the sword around the castle," she continued. "As it turned out, Castellan Hodges is quite an accomplished fencer, and since he is rarely away from the castle, he couldn't escape my constant demands for lessons."

"Did the king learn of this?" Aiden inquired as he wiped sweat from his brow.

"Yes, the castellan informed him soon after we started. Malcolm is immensely loyal to the Crown," Criosa explained, smoothing her blouse. "While I do not doubt father was upset at this news at first, Malcolm must have changed his mind, for I have spent the last eighteen months under his guidance, minus the time I spent penned in at Fort Highmarch of course."

"The man knows his work," Aiden admitted ruefully, drawing a playful wink from Criosa.

"Alright, let's try something a little different," Kinsey suggested, giving Criosa a nod. She apparently understood his meaning, and reached into a pouch on her belt to withdraw a handful of fine dust. With a few whispered words, she tossed the dust into the air before her floor and then promptly vanished.

A slap on his rump startled Aiden, who whirled around to face his unseen opponent, but saw nothing except the empty confines of the large practice area. The faint sound of Criosa giggling drifted past his ears, so he quickly swung his practice blade, which cut ineffectually through empty air.

"How is this a fair fight?" Aiden asked of Kinsey, who watched with detached calm.

"Our adversaries have used magic on more than one occasion," the spymaster pointed out as Criosa whacked Aiden on the arm with the flat of her blade. "You've shown a natural talent for the art, not to mention a few tricks up your sleeve, so I want to see what else you can do. Surprise me."

While he was speaking, Aiden was focusing elsewhere in an attempt to find subtle shifts in the air around him that might give away Criosa's location. He saw nothing, but it did give him an idea.

As Kinsey said, Aiden had learned weeks ago that he had some latent talent for sorcery, although he could only manage the most basic of applications, such as conjuring a force shield or shifting his vision, to enable him to see the aura that surrounds people and things empowered with magic. He used this now, hoping that it would enable him to see the elusive Criosa via the aura of her incantation, but that failed to produce any result.

With the application of willpower, Aiden was able to shift his vision a little further than usual, allowing him to perceive the room around him in different ways. The colours around him changed as he concentrated, showing as subtle reds and brilliant greens before settling on a dim shade of blue.

Although very distracting, this little experiment did have one benefit — roughly ten yards in front of him was the dark grey silhouette of the young woman, standing at ease in the sure knowledge that she was invisible to Aiden.

Suppressing a triumphant grin, Aiden crept forward, keeping his attention elsewhere while heading a few yards to her right. When he was close enough, he surprised the princess by looking straight at her and tapping her on the shoulder with his wooden sword.

"How did you manage that?" she exclaimed, her silhouette shifting to the muted blue of the background, indicating she was now visible once more. Aiden let the focus of his vision dissipate and felt a momentary dizziness.

"Sayana taught me a little sorcery back at Bracksford," Aiden answered, lowering his training sword. "I figured it might be useful and with a little adjustment, it served to reveal your presence. And yes, now I have a headache coming on."

"You do not disappoint, Mister Wainwright," Kinsey said with a hint of approval, exchanging a glance with Criosa. "I had expected something far less subtle, such as that ring you used against me recently."

"I uh, actually lost it shortly after the battle at the senate," Aiden replied uncomfortably, referring to the brutal fight to stop a bunch of assassins from slaughtering the city's government. The ring had proven to be very useful and he lamented its loss, though he didn't want to let on how annoyed he was with himself for losing such a precious item. "I doubt it had much power left in it anyway."

"Well, you did just fine without it, sir," Kinsey said as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed along the stone walls. From the doorway to the barracks came Malcolm Hodges, the castle's castellan. He was a man of unremarkable appearance, with dark eyes and gray hair, dressed in fine clothing.

"I'm sorry to intrude, but I require Her Highness for some less exciting duties around the castle. Also, I have a note passed to me by a representative of the University of the Arcane, addressed to you, Mister Wainwright." He passed a folded piece of paper to Aiden, who opened it curiously. It was from Dean Desmond Foster, who requested his presence in his laboratory in the tower.

"Thank you," Aiden replied thoughtfully, wondering what the cranky old wizard wanted with him.

"Will you be departing in the morning?" Kinsey asked of Aiden.

"Yes, at first light," he confirmed.

"Then I wish you good fortune on your journey," the spymaster said, offering his hand for Aiden to shake. "I hope you've managed to absorb some of today's lessons, as they might well save your life."

"A fact of which I am keenly aware," Aiden assured him, striding across the room to replace the wooden sword back on its rack. "You taught her well, castellan," he added with a wry grin. "She's more than a match for me."

"You are too kind, sir," the court official replied, bowing slightly. "Fencing is more of a hobby for a man in my position, but I would gladly risk life and limb to protect the Kingdom, should the need arise.

"I'll do my best to find the sceptre and help end this war before that comes to pass," Aiden responded, tapping the breastplate on his chest. "Thank you for the gift, Highness, and for spending the time to teach me."

"My pleasure," Criosa said with a slight bow of her head.

"I shall escort you from the castle," Hodges said to Aiden. He followed the castle's senior caretaker through a side door across the room, but turned to look behind him before he left.

"Good luck, Aiden," Criosa called, smiling fondly at him, looking radiant even in the dim light of the barracks. He waved at her, but as he walked down the passageway Aiden absently rubbed his hand where the magical ring had been and wondered how he could possibly have lost it.

Chapter One

Pacian Savidge admired the new ring on his finger, quietly pleased he'd managed to take it from Aiden during their last meeting without anyone noticing. Aiden had plenty of other magical tricks to draw upon, and Pacian was the one who found it in the first place, so he felt no shame about taking it back during their final hand-shake.

Pacian was fairly sure he could figure out how to make it work, having recently overheard Aiden using the ring several times. Resolving to practice with it later, Pacian turned his attention to the main road just beyond the entrance to the alley where he stood. It was a chilly evening in Fairloch, a city still firmly in the grip of winter and though his "borrowed" brown robe allowed him to easily blend into the crowd, it wasn't as thick as he would have liked.

A slender woman dressed in a white robe walked along the snow-covered street, having just left the nearby castle. Her white hood was pulled over pale blond hair, but Pacian would have recognised her if she was wearing a burlap sack from head to toe. Nellise Sannemann was a woman of faith and conviction, who stood for everything Pacian cared little for, yet he wasn't ashamed to admit he was in love with her.

She looked around her as she walked, and Pacian's breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of her golden eyes reflecting the nearby lantern light. The white hood of her robe framed the beautiful face and full lips as strands of her pale blond hair blew about in the cold wind.

Pacian had never actually been in love before, having played fast and loose with the affections of women in his youth. Although very intuitive, he wasn't sure Nellise understood the real depth of his feelings, and something within prevented him from telling her directly. If he was the sort of person given to introspection, this might have been a disturbing thought. As it was, Pacian simply found himself unable to speak of his affection aloud.

He should have been out there on the street, walking alongside her, but recent events had seen him expelled from the association Aiden and Nellise had assembled, which annoyed Pacian to no end. They failed to understand that killing the traitorous Senator Johnson was necessary.

Men such as he didn't care for rules or laws about civil conduct — Johnson was trying to overthrow the government and knew he would not pay for his crimes if left to the decisions of the weak and cowardly people in power. Pacian had no compunctions about slitting his throat and would do so again in a heartbeat, if it meant real justice could be served.

Looking at Nellise, going about her work with full faith in the system, made Pacian all the more determined to protect her against those who do her harm. She passed him by noticing his presence, but before Pacian could mingle with other people on the street to follow, he noticed a robed man approaching her from the direction of the cathedral, the centre of the Church of Aielund which had taken issue with Nellise's decisions of late.

"Nellise Sannemann?" he called through the bitterly cold air. His hood was low over his face, with a greying beard visible beneath the cowl. His hands were clasped together before him in what Pacian thought of as the "classic monk look", and although covered in his white robe, it was clear from his heavy steps that he was wearing armour underneath.

"I am," Nellise replied hesitantly, giving the approaching man an appraising glance.

"My name is Cedric Cain, Archon of the Holy Inquisitors, and I would ask that we speak in private," he intoned with a deep, articulate voice. Glancing at Nellise, Pacian saw that she was tense, but unafraid of the man.

"I am no longer a part of any order with the Church of Aielund," Nellise answered evenly, "so I do not recognise your authority."

"My desire to talk with you is not a directive from the Church, Miss Sannemann," the inquisitor elaborated. "Think of it as brotherly advice, if you will. We may speak in the cathedral."

Nellise hesitated, wary of his invitation but eventually nodded her head in compliance, and followed Cain towards the cathedral. Pacian left the shelter of the alley and followed at a discreet distance, keeping the hood of his robe low over his face as they passed through the gates of the city's university, heading for the imposing presence of the cathedral. Other priests heading for the tall building wore similar robes to that which Pacian was wearing, so he figured he'd try his luck at listening in on Nellise's conversation with the inquisitor.

Pacian passed by a few other priests, bowing his head slightly in greeting but walking fast enough to make it seem he knew where he was going. When he reached the tall double door of the cathedral, he took a deep breath and went inside, continuing to stride purposefully down the centre aisle.

It was a well-lit space, with candles and lanterns lighting the area well enough to navigate. The hour was late and the pews were empty, though priests could be seen here and there as they went about their duties. A few acolytes passed by him in the hall, offering him their assistance if needed, to which Pacian gave a curt shake of his head and pressed on. He had reached the halfway point of the great hall when he saw two robed individuals speaking together in a small alcove off to the side of the main thoroughfare — Nellise and Cain.

Sidling closer without trying to make it appear he was sidling, Pacian eventually came within earshot of the two and sat down. He brought his hands together as if praying and focused on listening in to their conversation.

"I understand it is your role within the hierarchy to actively monitor the clergy and their actions," Nellise was whispering, "but your concern is unfounded as I feel my faith has been renewed of late, regardless of my expulsion from the ranks of the Resolute Heralds."

"The concern you speak of is not my own," Cain corrected her. "Prelate Carver of the Royal Court brought you to my attention, after witnessing your continuing desire to blend our peaceful faith with some form of martial philosophy."

"I do as my conscience dictates," Nellise hissed, dispensing with her usual calm. "It was made quite clear to me that my methods were frowned upon by the chapter, but as I am no longer with the Heralds, I feel free to pursue my own path. God answers my prayers, inquisitor — who are you to judge the rightness of my choices?"

"My order was appointed to that very task by the His Holiness," Cain informed her evenly, "and I perform my duty with all diligence. There was once an order of the Church that thought as you did, believing themselves right with God as they impugned the rights of those they deemed immoral or unworthy. They came to a bad end, Nellise, after destroying the lives of countless men and women." Nellise crossed her arms as the inquisitor lectured her, clearly impatient and simmering with indignation.

"I am well acquainted with the works of the Divine Templars," Nellise muttered. "But you are omitting the political errors that permitted them to hold sway over public policy. Our government and church hierarchy are a far cry from those dark days, and one priestess with a desire to fight for the Kingdom in the name of Kylaris will not lead to the fall of civilisation."

"Understand, Nellise," Cain whispered intently, leaning forward on his small chair, "that I cannot permit someone associated with this Church to walk the land, extolling the virtues of dealing with her problems using a crossbow, with God's blessed sanction. I feel that your training has been perverted by the events of the last month, and you cling to your weaponry as an easy solution to problems that have arisen. Perhaps you need to spend a year or two with the Keepers of the Light, to relearn the true meaning of the faith."

"Given the events of recent weeks, I believe I am where I'm supposed to be, inquisitor," Nellise responded evenly. "Locking myself away in a monastery is not going to help others, and that is the focus of my new calling. Princess Criosa herself has bestowed me with the authority to speak for the Crown on a mission of utmost urgency and I will not shirk my duties, nor do you have the right to interfere in matters of state."

"It is not my intention to stand in the way of your mission, Nellise," Cain said, backing down. "I am simply advising you to consider the ultimate destination of the road you now walk. We are not so different, you and I, for we both serve as guardians of the faith. If you do not feel service with the Keepers is a realistic option, you should consider joining my order, where you will be better able to carry the duel burdens of warrior and priest." Nellise was silent for a long moment, and Pacian silently shouted at her to slap him in the face and walk away.

"Your order is tasked with policing the faith, sometimes to a fault," Nellise intoned quietly, as if thinking aloud. "If I am forced to choose, then that would be my choice, though it goes against the calling of my heart."

"Think on this, over the coming weeks," Cain advised, leaning back casually. "Though you have a difficult choice to make, it need not be made now. If the Crown has called you to service, then go you must. Remember, though, that the Divine Templars once had the same epiphany as you and ended up a twisted shadow of their former glory, as power ate away at their souls. Do not make the same mistake, Nellise, or I will come for you personally."

She did not speak as Cain stood and left the small alcove, heading further into the cathedral proper. Pacian was hesitant to glance over at the beautiful cleric in case she found out he heard everything, though part of him ached to go over there and reassure her. Another part of him, however, was filled with a cold rage and had something else in mind.

In the past few weeks, as he and Nellise had become better acquainted, she had been gently guiding his actions in the hope of making him a better person. He had been aware of it, of course, but she had a certain way about her that made it difficult to refuse. When push came to shove, though, Pacian had found her to be dangerously naïve, and had taken it upon himself to show her the error of her ways.

It was an ongoing argument between the two that had increased with intensity as they ran into greater challenges, but following the horrifying events at the hands of akoran savages to the south, Pacian had silently declared it a victory for his way of thinking, and indeed, she had come to see the short-sightedness of her position as well. Even though something had happened in the past couple of days to change her mind, Pacian knew he was still in the right, and nobody was going to push around his Nellise.

Nobody.

A plain, locked door at the end of the great hall blocked his way. Cain had travelled through here, so that's where Pacian was headed, too. Flipping out a set of lock-picks from his sleeve, he quickly opened the door and proceeded inside.

A long, narrow hall curved around to his right, with numerous doors leading off at regular intervals. He hadn't seen which one the inquisitor had entered, so he would have to check each one in sequence. A pair of robed acolytes walking towards him gave him pause, however, and he instead chose to continue on past so they couldn't see him breaking into their rooms. As he was about to pass, he was stopped by a plain, homely man with bad hair.

"You aren't supposed to be back here, sir," he advised calmly. "Can I be of assistance?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Archon Cain's chamber," Pacian asked smoothly. "He asked me to meet him there, though I seem to be lost. Can you point the way?"

"It's the third door on your left," the helpful acolyte answered, pointing down the hall. "May I ask your business with the inquisitor?"

"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure myself, but he said it was a matter of utmost secrecy, and I'm not one to question authority," Pacian lied, hoping he didn't sound sarcastic.

"Ah, well, we'd better not let you keep the Inquisitor waiting," the acolyte hedged, nervously licking his lips. Pacian took note of the effect Cain's name had on the common priests, then slipped past without another word. Arriving at the correct door, Pacian checked to make sure the acolytes had moved on and then slowly twisted the handle. He felt some resistance, indicating it was locked, and once more fetched his lock-picks.

It was a painstaking process manipulating the lock without making any noise, and took all of Pacian's skill to accomplish. Eventually the mechanism give way and he slowly turned the handle, mindful that the inquisitor could be waiting for him on the other side. Easing the door inwards on well-oiled hinges, Pacian silently stepped inside the dimly lit room and saw the robed figure of a man sitting at a desk, intently scribbling notes with a quill.

Focusing on his breathing, Pacian patiently closed the door as silently as he'd opened it, and then drew one of his daggers from beneath his robe as he crept up behind the man. He pressed the blade against the side of the man's throat, and the scribbling sound ceased.

"Hold still and I won't have to cut you," Pacian whispered into the priest's ear.

"Mister Savidge, your reputation precedes you," Inquisitor Cain replied quietly, laying down the quill and giving his undivided attention.

"You were very disrespectful to my friend just now," Pacian continued in the same low voice. "I wanted you to know how upset that made me. No, don't reach for your weapon — you won't have time to use it before I slice your throat." Cain's other arm stopped moving under the desk, and he clasped his hands in front of him instead.

"I am simply doing my duty," Cain rasped, swallowing loudly. "Nellise is a gifted young woman, and if she so chooses, she could abuse those gifts terribly. I will not permit this to occur."

"You will permit what I say you will," Pacian whispered with an edge to his voice. "I owe her my life many times over, Cain. She has faced the horrors of war and monsters, both human and otherwise, and I will not stand by and allow her to fall by the likes of you."

"I do not seek her destruction, Mister Savidge," Cain corrected him. "If a member of the faith becomes lost, it is my task to set them on the right path. Expelling her from the chapter was not enough to dissuade her from this course she is set upon, so I will take whatever steps required to ensure she does not fall from grace. Some time with the Keepers of the Light will redeem her, and she will once again bring peace to a world that has seen enough of war."

"I'm neither patient nor prone to subtlety, so I'll say my piece and be gone. Leave her be — Nel is a far better person than you know, and if you choose to come for her, you'd better bring a lot of friends, because she will not be alone."

"Thank you for the advice. I will be sure to do just that," Cain replied, his confidence growing with each passing moment. The initial shock of Pacian's arrival was wearing off and it was time to leave. He pressed the back of his knife against the inquisitor's throat and then Pacian pulled back quickly, creeping to the door while Cain could still feel the impression against his skin. By the time he realised the knife was no longer there, Pacian had left the room and was hurrying down the corridor.

After stepping out into the nave once again, he shoved one of his lock-picks into the lock and snapped it off, jamming the door in case the inquisitor thought to follow him. By the time Pacian reached the main doors, there was still no sign of pursuit.

Smirking confidently from his success, Pacian dashed into the night and threaded his way through the streets back to the Fair Maiden Inn, bumping into some poor bloke in his haste.

Mumbling his apologies, Pacian kept moving, heading for the Fair Maiden Inn where he and the others had stayed during their time in the city. He knew he wasn't supposed to be here, and anticipated a hostile reception if he made his presence known, but Cain's threat to "deal with" Nellise at some point made Pacian realise he needed to remain close in order to protect her. That meant he was going to have to convince her to allow him to accompany her and the other women.

When he stepped inside, he spotted Nellise sitting at a table, appearing pensive after her conversation with the inquisitor. Next to her sat Sayana Arai and Valennia Far-Eagle, who would be travelling with her to the dwarven city of Stonegaard where they would seek some kind of magic stick to fight a monster, or something. He hadn't really been paying attention in the last meeting.

Pacian made his way across the common room and without warning, pulled up a chair and sat down across from Nellise. The three women were instantly on alert, until Pacian pulled back his hood to reveal his face.

"Relax, it's just me," he assured them, though they didn't follow his advice.

"I'm not sure if I should welcome you or call the guards," Nellise remarked, a fine crease on her forehead the only sign of her irritation.

"Unless you're in on the plot to topple the throne, you've got nothing to worry about from me," Pacian said, taking note of the concerned looks from all three of them. Next to him sat Sayana, a petite woman who barely passed five feet in height, with cascading red locks. Despite her diminutive frame, her talent with sorcery was something to behold.

Having lived in the wilds of Aielund for most of her life, she had experienced difficulty adapting to crowded cities, but much like Nellise, her confident appearance indicated she had recently sorted things out.

To Pacian's left sat Valennia Far-Eagle, a towering figure even while seated, topping out at six feet with a solid frame he'd rarely seen on a woman. Although heavily muscled, she was by no means unattractive, a point which Pacian had paid close attention to one evening a few nights ago when he'd had a little too much to drink. Or so he'd been told, anyway. It was kind of a blur.

Valennia's raven-black hair tumbled down around her shoulders and she wore simple, warm clothing, as there was little need to wear her breastplate in the comfortable confines of the inn. Despite Nellise's ministrations, the akoran warrior-maiden was still sporting impressive bruises from their recent battles and ate her food slowly, as if reluctant to move faster than she needed to.

Valennia had been on the front line of their last fight, and although she had defeated many of their dark-robed enemies, she had also taken a huge amount of punishment. In a way, she had carried the fight, even if it was Pacian who had the guts to eliminate the man who had made it all happen.

"I had thought you weren't coming with us," Sayana remarked cautiously. Pacian reached over and snatched a piece of chicken from her plate and gave her a quick wink before she could protest. He was rewarded with a solid kick to his leg under the table that made him groan.

"What, I can't sit down and say goodbye to my friends?" Pacian responded innocently, but Nellise was having none of that.

"No, I don't think you can," she answered. "You left, and for good reasons."

"Aiden's the one who kicked me out, remember?" Pacian replied, giving up the pretense. "Fine, yes, I reckon can still be useful, and you know it. I want to come with you, but I want you to be okay with it. I won't cause trouble, I'll just tag along and do what I'm told, I promise."

"And if I still say no?" Nellise asked.

"Then I'll probably follow at a distance," Pacian answered. "You may not want to admit it, but you're going to need my help on this one." Nellise sighed and glanced at the other two, seeking their advice.

"I think we work well together, Pacian," Valennia said, "so long as you do not try to bed me again while drunk. I decide who I sleep with." Pacian's eyes darted back and forth between Valennia and Nellise as this previously undisclosed information came to light, but if Nellise was surprised at this revelation, she didn't show it.

"I will also add that I find your vicious streak very appealing," Valennia added.

"I don't," Nellise warned. "If you can't keep your impulses in check, you've no place in this group."

"I've no intention of getting in your way," Pacian replied, hurt that she would even have to say it. "Since when have I ever cared about diplomacy?"

"He's right you know," Sayana muttered, giving Nellise a sidelong glance.

"That is precisely my point," Nellise explained. "You will not ignore my instructions and attempt to fix problems via your own methods, nor will you undermine my efforts. In fact, for the most part, I don't want you to say anything."

"Well, that hardly seems fair," Pacian scoffed, looking around to the other women for support.

"Sounds perfectly fair to me," Sayana offered thoughtfully.

"I am already relegated to the background in such places, waiting to act," Valennia shrugged.

"Then it's settled," Nellise said, smiling ever so slightly.

"This week is going to be all kinds of fun," Pacian muttered sarcastically, leaning back in his seat and pondering the possibilities of going it alone. The group had already split in half over the controversy he had created and their ability to work together was going to be sorely tested. He resigned himself to putting up with Sayana's sparring and Nellise's indifference, knowing that it at least allowed him to remain close to her.

They spoke quietly of mundane matters as they ate their meal. Valennia was surprisingly sombre that evening and said little over the following hour. Pacian wasn't entirely sure what her problem was, and didn't really want to pry in matters that didn't concern him.

He kept silent for the remainder of the evening, content to keep an eye out for any priestly types that were looking for him or Nellise. Eventually, he bid the three women a good night and headed up to his room. Aiden had been here at some point during the day to collect his belongings, leaving Pacian with a hollow feeling in his chest at the sight of the almost-bare room.

This was quickly replaced by anger at the way Aiden had treated him, and he spat out a curse to the empty room. Another thought occurred to him at that moment, too. If the inquisitor was going to come looking for him, then he'd most likely pay a visit during the night, possibly with several burly companions to haul him away.

Searching through his pack, Pacian pulled out some fishing line and rigged an unpleasant surprise, tying the line from the door to a bucket of ice-cold water that he hung above the door. It was more of a prank than a trap, but it would teach anyone who burst into his room a lesson.

Carefully closing the door on the way out, Pacian went looking for another place to sleep in down the hall. He put his ear to each door and listened intently until he found one with no sounds coming from within, and upon unlocking it, found a nice empty room where he wouldn't be disturbed. Just before he drifted off to sleep, Pacian heard the faint sound of water splashing onto the floor and a startled cry as someone had an unexpected cold bath.

* * *

"I can't ride a horse," Sayana remarked as she looked up at the stately brown mare before her. The four of them stood at the front of a stable in the southern part of the city, heavily clothed against the cold while Nellise examined the horses that had been provided for them. Given that a huge number of mounts had been taken west to aid in the war effort, the mere fact they had been given as an option to Pacian's group spoke to the importance of their task. Not everyone was pleased with the situation, however.

"I too have no experience with such beasts," Valennia said, levelling a threatening gaze at a bewildered-looking stallion. "The offer itself is insulting — does Criosa believe I am incapable of running?"

"I think she offered them so we wouldn't have to run," Nellise mused, examining the horses with an expert eye.

"Because she is your beloved leader, I will not challenge her to a duel for this insult," Valennia offered graciously.

"I suppose there isn't much point to half of us riding if the other two aren't," Nellise sighed, stroking one of the horses fondly. "We won't be requiring mounts after all, stable master."

"As you wish, m'lady," the stern, middle-aged man replied. He gestured to some nearby stable hands, who took the horses by the reins and led them back inside. Pacian wasn't eager to carry all of his gear on a two-day walk into the mountains, but didn't see the point of bothering with horses in the first place. Stonegaard was an underground city, and they wouldn't be able to take their mounts underground anyway.

Making their way through the crowds, Pacian noticed the increasing traffic as they approached the southern gate of Fairloch. Dozens of carts were leaving the city, transporting wares to places near and far. The wagon next to him seemed to be little more than half full, with enough room for a few people to sit under cover. Just what he was looking for — an easy ride.

"Excuse me sir," he called to a nearby merchant, perched upon his wagon. "Are you by chance heading to Stonegaard?"

"After a fashion, sir," the merchant called back, a hawkish man with an elaborate moustache and fine clothing. "My destination is Auchlevie, a village that is but an hour's walk from the city proper."

"Close enough," Pacian beamed. "You seem like a gentleman, so would you permit myself and these three lovely ladies to travel with you, sir? I can offer you a silver noble per head."

"As it happens, I have space and would enjoy the company," the merchant said. "You are welcome to climb aboard as we wait for the traffic to clear. And I'll thank you to hand over your coins in advance, sir." Pacian passed him the four silver nobles and hurried around the back, hoping to squeeze in next to Nellise for the journey, but found all three ladies had already taken up the remaining space.

"I guess you'll have to sit next to the merchant," Sayana shrugged, a subtle grin on her freckled features. "Enjoy the view." The three of them laughed as Pacian slumped back to the front of the wagon, resigned to staring at the business end of an ox for the journey.

Chapter Two

The main tower of the University of the Arcane was one of the more prominent buildings in the city, standing alongside the cathedral and the smaller, less impressive student's tower.

Huddled down in his own longcoat, Aiden was comfortable enough but longed to rest his weary mind and body at the inn, but the note from the wizard Desmond begged his indulgence a little while longer. Although their association had begun with a rocky start, they now seemed to share a grudging respect for one another, though the old wizard clearly thought of Aiden as a half-trained dabbler in the arts. This description wasn't all that far from the truth, if Aiden was completely honest with himself.

For years, he had wanted to come here and learn the art properly, instead of gleaning what he could from whatever books he could acquire at home. He may have raw talent, but it also took money and influence to obtain access to the vast knowledge stored within these walls, something his family lacked.

The relative warmth of the tower was a welcome relief from the persistent cold. He passed by the shining metallic man standing perfectly still in lower floor of the tower, not unlike a statue. It gave Aiden chills just looking at it, for it was actually an arcane construct capable of understanding the orders of its master and acting upon them.

The laboratory hadn't changed since his last visit — the walls were lined with curious shapes covered in heavy cloth and the smell of burnt wood was ever-present. A plump grey cat lounged near the fireplace, soaking in the heat as its yellow eyes gazed sleepily at Aiden.

"Good evening, sir," he said to Desmond. The old wizard was something of a cliché, sporting a long grey beard with matching robe and sour disposition. He was sifting through some small metallic items on his desk, and turned to regard Aiden as he entered.

"Punctuality is a virtue, Mister Wainwright," he said approvingly, smoothing his beard. "I half expected you to delay your visit until tomorrow."

"I wouldn't even consider it," Aiden lied, rubbing his eyes with fatigue. "I should warn you however, that I've had an exhausting day and I'm not in the mood for our usual repartee. Say your piece and I'll be gone."

"Succinct as usual, sir," Desmond huffed. "You might show a measure of appreciation once you learn why I summoned you here." Aiden's curiosity was piqued as the wizard picked up something heavy from the table and held it before him. It was the jewel-tipped sceptre he had recovered from the fallen city of Ferrumgaard, weeks ago. It was a powerful arcane weapon, able to focus brilliant energy upon a small point to burn through just about anything.

"I recall you saying a few days ago that you were trying to repair it," Aiden breathed, reaching out to take the powerful sceptre in his hands, "but I was under the impression that it was going to take some time."

"I expedited the work," Desmond explained proudly. "I needed to call in a few favours, and even swiped one of the Arch-Chancellor's rare crystals to accomplish the feat. I had to set aside all of my work, which ruffled the feathers of a few of my colleagues to say the least, but considering the task you are undertaking, I felt it was a small sacrifice to make."

Examining it closely, Aiden could see that new crystals had been fixed to the head of the sceptre, replacing the ones he had broken when using it like a club to save his own life. He levelled a suspicious gaze at the wizard as he recalled a few of the comments he had made regarding Aiden's capabilities in the recent past.

"I thought you said that I was too inexperienced to use something like this?" he asked. "I recall the term 'hedge wizard' being bandied about."

"Well, that was actually Dean Webber's opinion," Desmond coughed, appearing embarrassed. "I won't lie to you, Aiden — some of our more experienced students have been trained to use arcane devices such as this and even then, remain under careful supervision. For a self-taught individual such as yourself to manipulate dangerous equipment is... ill-advised."

"And yet you just handed one to me," Aiden drawled. "Is there something you're not telling me, Dean?"

"As you recently learned," the wizard explained, "there are precious few scholars studying the problem of how to defeat the Ironlord before it returns to our world. The dragon, Salinder, seems to have developed an affinity for you, and you are not completely without talent, after all."

"Was that a compliment? I shall have to make a note of this in my journal," Aiden drawled.

"The short of it is," the wizard blustered, becoming increasingly cranky, "you are valuable to the cause, and should you perish in the lost city of Feybourne it will be a regrettable setback. So, it behoves me to equip you as best I can, in the hope that you will return triumphant."

"That actually makes sense," Aiden admitted. "Thanks for your candour, and for taking the time to get this working again."

"Now then, there are a few issues with that device I need to inform you of. You will not use it as a club to bash people over the head! It is an ancient relic encrusted with rare and expensive crystals — if you feel the need to cave someone's skull in, have the decency to use a lump of wood, like any self-respecting ogre.

"The crystals I replaced are, as I just said, exceedingly rare," Desmond continued before Aiden could speak. "If you do somehow manage to break it again, it will be permanently broken. As it happens, the parts I used were not entirely correct, so you will find it behaves a little differently. Do not use it more than three times a day, or you might find it will burn your hand off, melt, or something equally horrible. Am I clear, Mister Wainwright?"

"Very clear, Dean Foster," Aiden nodded emphatically, cowed by his stern demeanour.

"Good... good, I think you shall do alright, my boy," the old wizard said, placated by his deference.

"If I may ask," Aiden inquired with equal politeness, "do you have any scrolls lying about I could use?" Desmond's brow furrowed at this request, and Aiden knew he was pushing the man's generosity to the limit.

"I might have been inclined to provide you with a few of the simpler incantations, but I seem to have misplaced a large number of my personal collection recently," Desmond grumbled, scattering papers around on his desk in a futile effort to find them.

"How unfortunate," Aiden hedged, swallowing loudly. Sayana had stolen a pile of the scrolls after her interrogation here a few days prior, so in a way, Desmond already had given them to Aiden for his personal use. He wasn't about to explain the situation, however. "Never mind, I'll make do."

"As well you might," Desmond nodded, giving up the search. "They were far more likely to backfire on you anyway, so you're better off steering clear of such dangerous magic."

"Well, I'd best be heading off then," Aiden finished, offering his hand to the old man who shook it vigorously. "If all goes well, I shall return in a few weeks with good news."

"I look forward to examining anything you recover," Desmond offered. "Good fortune to you, sir." Aiden gave him a quick smile and headed back down the stairs, quietly pleased to have his sceptre back again.

He moved through the cold streets as quickly as he could manage, with his hood pulled low to keep the bitter wind out of his face. Some fool — perhaps a student, judging by his robe — bumped into him as he walked, and Aiden offered him half-hearted apologies before concentrating on the road before him once more.

It was roughly a twenty-minute walk before Aiden saw the warm, inviting lights of the Tradeway Tavern and quickly moved over to a seat near the fireplace in the common room.

It was only half full this evening, and a good portion of those present were raelani men and women. The Tradeway provided appropriately-sized accommodation for the little people, so it was hardly surprising that they tended to congregate here. The distinct musty smell of pipeweed permeated the air, and more than one of the raelani present held a pipe, a common vice of the small people.

One of these women was Margaret Fairweather, a recent associate of Aiden's who was reclining in a tiny chair near the fire, recovering from her grievous injury at the hands of the death cult that had attempted to eliminate the senate. Margaret, or Maggie as everyone called her, was just shy of three and a half feet tall, and her auburn hair was streaked with grey, despite the youthfulness of her face. Her large green eyes made her seem almost child-like, though she was probably well into her fortieth year of life.

Some less scrupulous raelani made good use of this illusion, passing themselves off as human children to take advantage of people. Maggie was too honest for such duplicity. Aiden very much liked the tiny woman, and they certainly wouldn't have survived the past week without her help.

She seemed to be half asleep as she lay in the chair, but in her remaining hand she held a small green crystal that glowed faintly in the dim light. Although she had lost an arm, she hadn't seemed to be all that upset over it, and even hinted that she could grow it back.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Aiden leaned over and pulled aside the cloak that covered her maimed arm. It had been severed near the shoulder, but to his astonishment, he could see it had grown back almost to the elbow, ending in a bare round stump.

"Satisfied?" Maggie asked through half-closed eyelids. Aiden quickly covered her arm again and sat opposite her in a chair made for humans.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," he apologised quietly, trying not to draw attention. "That's not something I get to see every day. Does it hurt at all?"

"If you've ever had your arm fall asleep, you know exactly how it feels," she grumbled, sitting up in the chair. Now that she was fully alert, he could see how drawn and tired she was.

"A small price to pay for being able to regrow limbs," Aiden suggested, drawing a wan smile from the little woman. "You know, if you can't settle your differences with your druidic friends, you could always go into business growing back people's arms and legs. With a war going on, I imagine a lot of people would be in need of a service like that."

"Unfortunately, this only works if applied almost immediately after the injury takes place," Maggie explained. "For a few days after the limb is severed, the body tries to regrow it, did you know that?" Aiden shook his head. "It doesn't succeed in raelani or humans, mind you," she continued, "unless it has access to the right sort of energy to supplement its own natural processes. Some amphibians do the same thing, but they actually succeed where we fail."

"Fascinating," Aiden remarked, not entirely fascinated by her explanation. He was very tired indeed.

"I'm boring you, for which I apologise," Maggie smiled. "This is why I usually don't bother to explain things like this."

"No, it's okay, I'm just exhausted," Aiden assured her. "The princess had me swing a sword for most of the day, and studying the most complex book you've never read for the rest."

"I see you have acquired some armour, at least," she observed.

"A gift from Criosa," Aiden explained dismissively. "She was tired of watching me get cut to pieces."

"Good, because I was getting tired of putting you back together again," Maggie remarked, drawing a rueful smile from the young man. From across the room, he spotted Sir William making his way to the stairs and gestured at a nearby chair. The knight hesitated for a moment before walking over, his face was an unreadable mask.

Cuts and bruises were visible on his face, a legacy of the recent vicious fight. Sir William was past sixty, and would probably take several more days to fully recover. Aiden sensed it wasn't the fatigue or injuries that were contributing to his sombre appearance however.

"Good evening to you both," the old knight said with rigid formality.

"Are you well?" Maggie inquired with concern.

"I am healing, albeit slowly," Sir William replied. "To that end, I won't be joining you for the evening meal, as I would prefer to turn in early and rest before tomorrow's journey."

"Of course," Aiden said with a nod. "Is there something else that's bothering you?"

"I do not wish to burden either of you with trivial matters," Sir William dismissed with a casual wave of his hand. "Suffice it to say, it has been a trying time and I would do well to take my leave. I need some time to think and pray, but I will see you at dawn for breakfast." Sir William turned and headed for the stairs, leaving Aiden and the druid pondering the hidden meaning in his words.

The talk of food made Aiden realise how hungry he was, so he excused himself and went to the bar to order a platter of food. Halfway through the meal, he spied another of his associates making his way across the floor, a man of average height with dark hair held back by a black bandana. He was laden with as much equipment as a man could be expected to carry, and more than one weapon was visible poking over his shoulder.

Ronan Woulfe, former sailor with His Majesty's Navy and retired thief, was usually difficult to read. He had a laid-back, laconic style about him and rarely showed any emotion aside from mild interest. So, it came as a surprise when Ronan unceremoniously dumped his armload of supplies onto the floor and slumped into an empty chair.

"If I had to hazard a guess," Aiden remarked, "I would say this has something to do with your good friend Perry remaining elusive."

"Yep," Ronan replied bluntly, ignoring the looks he was getting from nearby patrons. "Little bastard has gone into hiding along with the rest of the guild, and none of my former associates know where."

"Is it really that important?" Maggie asked, her eyelids heavy but ignoring the urge to sleep a little while longer. "We dealt with the assassins you were worried about, not to mention those robed chaps with the big scythes. Your old friends are probably safe, and all the more so for remaining hidden."

"It's not about that," Ronan muttered, sitting up straight. "Perry made a deal with Holister and her group of proper scumbags to sell us out, and I'm not going to be comfortable until I have words with him. And then punch him really hard." Ronan reached over to Aiden's plate and plucked a small roast potato away from the rest and popped it into his mouth.

"Hungry?" Aiden asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, I've eaten," Ronan said while munching on the potato. "Anyway, you asked, so now you know. Don't worry, it's not going to get in the way of our business down south. I asked one of Kinsey's people to keep an eye out for me, in case Perry slips up."

"Smart move," Aiden remarked. "I'm surprised you could trust the king's spymaster, considering your former profession."

"I don't have any options, and besides, that smart young woman working for him seems to know what she's doing. It's kind of nice having friends in high places for a change."

"I see you've put their money to good use," Maggie observed, peering down at the pile of supplies on the floor.

"Just wanted to be prepared," Ronan shrugged. "Bought the best short bow they had in the city. Alright, I'm done in," he sighed, rising to his feet. "It's been a bloody hard couple of days, I'll say that much for truth."

"We appreciate your efforts," Aiden assured him.

"You'd be surprised how motivating blackmail can be," he replied cynically. "I'll see you at first light."

"Wait, aren't you taking all this?" Maggie asked, looking down at the equipment.

"Why, so I can drag it back downstairs again tomorrow? Bugger that. Get the innkeeper to take care of it for us maybe." With an ambivalent shrug, Ronan slowly made his way upstairs.

"I've never seen him so dejected before," Aiden confided to Maggie, genuinely worried. "This thing with his old guild members must be plaguing him more than I thought. And what's with Sir William? Perhaps everyone will feel better once we're on the road."

"I hate to add to the general feeling of despondency," Maggie hedged, "but I don't think this is going to be an easy mission. It's been over two weeks since I last knew what was happening down in Feybourne, and I'd be surprised if fighting between my Order and the Crown hadn't already begun."

"You can't know that," Aiden responded. "We'll find out what's happening when we get to Amalis."

"I hope so, because if push comes to shove, a lot of people could lose their lives," Maggie sighed. "Listen to me — I sound as bad as the others! This arm is making me cranky. Perhaps I should turn in as well."

"I'll speak to the innkeeper about our gear," Aiden advised as they both stood from the table. "Good night." Maggie nodded in reply and headed off down a corridor to the raelani quarters.

After a brief word with the innkeeper, as well as a motivational exchange of coins, Aiden went upstairs to the room he was sharing with Ronan and almost fell flat onto his bed as soon as he opened the door. At the last moment, he recalled the breastplate he was still wearing and slowly went about unfastening the straps and placing it on the floor with the rest of his equipment.

As he pulled it away, he noticed the polished shard of glass hanging around his neck, gleaming in the candlelight. It was the remnant of a mystical sphere that he had broken years ago, and ever since had been in direct contact with an ancient dragon that communicated with him through his dreams. More often than not, they were disturbing dreams, so for the first time in many years he took the amulet off before laying his head down on the soft pillows. If Salinder had anything to say to him, it would have to wait.

As Aiden blew out the candle, a faint blue light could be seen from inside his backpack. The relic was there, practically calling to him with the promise of secrets to unravel, but his tired body had reached its limits and he reluctantly ignored the device in favour of sleep. The answers within would have to wait.

* * *

A good night's sleep and a hearty breakfast had done wonders for Aiden's disposition, and he only wished he could say the same for the others. Maggie was still in a dour mood, as regrowing one's arm was apparently an uncomfortable process. Ronan was clearly still annoyed at having to leave his revenge unfinished, though he didn't say anything so specific out loud. Sir William was still refusing to discuss the source of his grief, which didn't stop him going about his work, at least.

They had gathered at the inn's stable, where Criosa had left a gift for them in the form of two horses. A small pony had been provided for Maggie, but she refused to accept it. She explained that she wouldn't be requiring a mount, leaving Aiden to assume she meant to ride with one of them. He walked up to a chestnut mare and gently stroked her mane, thanking the stable hand for preparing the horse with a saddle in advance.

Sir William's sullen demeanour evaporated when he laid eyes upon his own personal horse he had brought with him the previous day. It was a massive grey stallion, caparisoned in red and gold livery. Unlike the two riding horses Aiden and Ronan would be riding, the knight's was a proper warhorse, roughly sixteen hands high and heavily muscled. He seemed to light up at the sight of his master, stepping forward to nuzzle the offered hand.

"Friends, this is Bastion," Sir William said, stroking the horse's head fondly. "We've been together for nearly twenty years."

"Bloody big horse," Ronan remarked.

"Isn't he getting a little old to carry around an armoured man?" Maggie asked, moving in closer to examine the old warhorse, while being mindful to avoid being stepped on.

"Bastion has a few years left in him," Sir William assured her. "Just be careful down there — he has been trained to fight, and a good solid kick might kill you outright."

"He wouldn't do that to me, would you boy?" Maggie replied, giving the horse a pat on the flank. She went about checking the horse's hooves, which might have been difficult with only one hand, but she had a novel way of dealing with that particular problem. A quick tap on each leg prompted Bastion to raise that hoof, allowing her to inspect it, while the nearby stable hands looked on in astonishment.

"You have a certain graceful way about you," Sir William murmured appreciatively.

"Wait 'til you see me with two hands," Maggie quipped, finishing up her brief examination. "Bastion has been well looked after, but time catches up with us all. I strongly recommend you put him out to pasture when we get back from Feybourne. I'm sure he's earned it." The knight's smile vanished once more as he nodded soberly, patting the flank of the huge horse.

"Now might be a good time to mention that I've only ridden once in my entire life," Ronan remarked, looking at his black mare mysteriously.

"I'll refresh your memory on the basics," Aiden offered, taking a few minutes to guide the sailor through the use of the reins, and the trick to climbing onto the saddle. Fortunately, his horse seemed to be a placid creature, willing to tolerate an unskilled rider without complaint. Satisfied that he was able to control the horse, Aiden climbed upon his own mount and offered his hand to Maggie.

"Thanks, but I have other arrangements once we get outside the gate," she replied, craning her neck to look directly at him. Aiden nodded, stifling his curiosity as they made their way out of the stable and onto the street. Perhaps she was going to ride a tornado, or turn into a falcon? The child within him couldn't wait to find out.

The streets were crowded with merchant wagons and travellers arriving or departing from the city, but the guardsmen at the gate kept the procession moving at a reasonable rate. Within a few minutes, the four of them were on the main road outside the walls of Fairloch, with Maggie jogging along behind them. Merchants and travellers began to pass them along the road, giving them accusing looks as the little woman struggled to keep up.

It was overcast with leaden grey clouds as they slowly travelled, and hard packed snow covered the landscape as far as the eye could see. Fenced-off fields lay fallow as the mid-winter freeze continued unabated, and it would be at least another two months before the long northern winter finally ended. The farmers who populated the land surrounding Fairloch would simply have to bide their time until the turning of the seasons.

Aiden was beginning to grow concerned about Maggie, who insisted on jogging instead of accepting a ride on one of their horses. She assured them that they'd understand in a few minutes, once they reached the tree line that lay just ahead. Snow-covered pines were appearing with greater frequency as they travelled, and the little druid asked them to stop for a few minutes while she took care of something.

Aiden cast a curious glance at Ronan, who merely shrugged as Maggie gathered the reins from the three horses in her one good hand, and brought their heads together. Aiden thought he could hear her whispering to the horses, but the chill breeze that blew across the landscape made it difficult to make out exactly what she was saying.

"Okay, I don't want any of you to panic," Maggie called up to the three riders. "Something is going to happen here that might cause you some alarm, but I want you to remember that I have everything under control, okay?"

"She's going to turn into a bird or something," Aiden whispered loudly to Ronan, who gave him a curious look in response. Contrary to this statement, Maggie did not, in fact, turn into a bird of any sort, and instead put two fingers into her mouth and blew out a piercing whistle. Nearly a minute later, Aiden was giving serious consideration to grabbing the raelani by the hand and pulling her over the saddle so they could get on with the journey, when he suddenly froze, staring at something approaching through the trees.

It had been difficult to see at first because it was mostly white, but as it came closer, Aiden could see he was looking at a tiger, its white fur interspersed with vertical black stripes that gave it surprisingly effective camouflage. He had seen mountain lions and bobcats in his time, but this was the first instance that Aiden had ever seen a tiger, and he had to wonder if they were all as massive as this one.

"Watch out, Margaret," Sir William warned as their horses caught the scent of the approaching predator and tensed up, snorting and rearing their heads in alarm. Maggie still had all of the reins and continued to whisper softly to them as the big cat approached, unperturbed. It loped easily over the frozen ground, speeding up as it came closer.

To Aiden's surprise, the horses did not bolt as the cat finally arrived, practically bowling Maggie over as it nuzzled her with genuine affection. Maggie whispered into the ear of the great cat, and then drew the horses in closer with a gentle tug on the reins. The horses cautiously leaned in and sniffed the tiger, who responded with a throaty purr as it licked their noses, one at a time. Even Bastion, whose training might make him more prone to attack, nuzzled the great cat as if they were old friends.

"I'll be damned," Ronan breathed, watching the scene unfold with fascination. "That's one of the more amazing things that I've ever seen."

"This is Thorn," Maggie explained when her face wasn't covered by the cat's huge tongue. "I had to leave him out here when I went into the city, as you'd expect. The poor thing has missed me terribly, it seems."

"Did you train him, or are you using some trick to prevent him from eating the horses?" Aiden asked, dumbfounded at the display.

"If by 'trick' you mean 'prayer to the God of Nature', then yes," Maggie answered slyly. "Without my influence, Thorn would make a meal out of your horses, but I've curbed their instincts. They'll be good friends for now, but after a few weeks apart they'd forget all about that and revert back to their normal selves. I'll tell you more about it at the end of the day, as I have a sudden desire to feel the wind in my hair."

Maggie released the reins and with a gesture, the tiger flattened its body onto the ground, allowing the tiny woman to climb it as if it were a horse. There was no saddle or reins to hold her in place, yet that didn't seem to worry her. As it climbed back to its feet, Maggie ran her fingers through its thick fur and moved into position, using her legs to hold her in place.

With a word, Thorn leaped down the road, loping along at a brisk pace and kicking snow into the air. With a grin, Aiden shook the reigns and prompted his horse to follow, with the others close behind as they began the journey south.

They rode for hours, making good time as they cantered along through the undulating countryside. The farms of Fairloch thinned out after a while, giving way to a forest of pines that obscured the majestic mountain ranges to their west.

It was roughly midday when Sir William called for a break, for which Aiden was silently thankful — his legs were already sore, and he had some difficulty dismounting. What pain he was experiencing was nothing compared to Ronan however, for the sailor unceremoniously fell of his horse and lay on the ground unmoving.

"This is why I prefer the sea," he muttered with a strained voice as Sir William offered him a hand.

"Nonsense, there's nothing like a brisk ride through the country to brace your spirits," the old knight said, sounding more like his old self.

"It might be an hour or two before I can get back on," Ronan cautioned as he hobbled over to a nearby tree.

"You'll become used to it soon enough," Sir William assured him, clapping the sailor on the shoulder. "I recall my first few days riding a horse in my youth, and—"

"Days?" Ronan interrupted. "This lasts for days?"

"You'll live," Maggie shrugged, easily sliding off Thorn to land gracefully on the snow. "Let's have a bite to eat before we move on." They didn't bother to light a fire, and ate fresh bread and cheese.

As he ate, Aiden glanced around at their surroundings, and noticed a building of some sort off in the distance. The details were too faint to make out, but Sir William was able to offer some insights.

"That is my estate, Highlorn," he explained as he ate. "My squire and his family harvest lumber and produce wheat, as the seasons dictate. The Bryce-Clifton's have tended the surrounding lands for four generations, of which I am the last."

"You have no children?" Maggie asked, to which the knight shook his head.

"My first and foremost duty has always been to the Crown, and I have, regrettably, neglected other aspects of my life. When I pass on, Highlorn will be given to another knight to tend, and the Bryce-Clifton name will fade from memory." He sounded melancholy as he spoke. "I do apologise for my earlier reticence, as I was dealing with some weighty issues."

"I think we know each other well enough by now to talk about such things," Maggie said, running her hand through her tiger's thick fur. "Speak your mind, Sir Knight." He explained the death of his old friend, Patriarch Corvyn Elward, and took a few minutes to convey the full weight of his loss. The two of them had been friends for over forty years, and had helped each other through difficult times. Aiden and the others expressed their condolences, which the knight received with quiet dignity.

Like the duke's aide Sir Godfrey Davis, Corvyn had been promoted while Sir William had been passed over, growing apart from his friends and comrades. There was an issue that needed clarifying, however.

"You and Sir Godfrey are not of the same Order, correct?" Aiden inquired.

"No, he is of the Order of Aielund, as are most of the king's knights these days," Sir William replied. He stuck out his chest, brandishing his heraldic breastplate so that they could see what was etched upon its surface. Aiden had seen the spread wings of an eagle upon it before, but it was faded and indistinct. Upon closer examination, however, he could spy something gripped in the eagle's talons.

"Is that a flower?" Ronan asked, also paying it close scrutiny.

"A rose," Sir William clarified. "I am of the Order of the Rose Eagle, who prize chivalry and honour above other concerns."

"That explains a few things," Ronan remarked to himself.

"One hundred and eighty years ago, it was the pre-eminent Order of knighthood in the realm," the old knight went on. "It was a bulwark of ethics and standards in a less civilised world. Now, most of the younger knights have taken up with the Order of Aielund, for as the world changed over time, notions of chivalry were deemed to be of less importance than mercantile and political concerns."

"Are there many Rose Eagle knights left in the realm?" Aiden asked, suspecting what the answer would be.

"I was the last to be inducted into the Order, decades ago, and even then it was considered archaic. With my passing, my family name and the Rose Eagles shall be no more." The old knight explained all of this with a measure of sadness, though Aiden suspected he was keeping the full extent of his feelings in check.

"So, there it is, my last great battle is against entropy itself," Sir William finished, his mood turning black once more. "I have no heirs to carry on my name, and no great memories to comfort me in my twilight years. If you ever wondered why I was not called upon to serve more often, it is because I was considered to be upholding 'unproductive values,' and was looked down upon by the other knights. And though you were kind not to say it, I failed in our fight against the cultists."

"Wait a moment," Aiden protested. "We were sorely outnumbered in that battle, and I saw you stand against five men at once, not to mention the dark powers their high priest conjured against us."

"That was the benefit of Solas Aingeal, for the hand of God was upon them," Sir William clarified, laying a hand on the hilt of his holy weapon. "Had my aged body not failed me, we might have prevailed with fewer casualties. I am compelled to ponder what benefits my presence offers on your quest, Mister Wainwright, for it is neither fortitude nor strength I possess in abundance."

"You underestimate your value, Will," Aiden replied, clapping a hand onto the dejected old man's shoulder. "Your loyalty and wisdom are more than enough, even if you did not carry such a powerful weapon at your side."

"When we succeed in dealing with my Order," Maggie added, "and returning to Fairloch with the Sceptre of Oblivion, you will have the glory that you seek, and the thanks of a grateful nation."

"Would that it was enough to stave off the oncoming darkness," he muttered, casting aside the remaining crumbs of his lunch and climbing atop Bastion once more. Aiden exchanged a concerned glance with the others before they all took to their mounts again, following Sir William as the old knight raced against the inevitable.

Chapter Three

Accustomed to travel as he was, Pacian nonetheless found the journey from Fairloch to be tedious and boring for the most part. The sky was grey with heavy cloud, hovering over the frozen landscape of empty fields, all covered with the blanket of winter. The road itself was heavily trafficked, as trade between the cities of Fairloch and Stonegaard was brisk, leaving the muddy road rough from the passage of so many wagons.

As the party trundled along the interminable road, the Stonegaard Mountains, shrouded in fog, grew larger and more distinct. Their majestic peaks were intimidating to behold, though the novelty wore off quickly. All-in-all, Pacian would much rather have spent the time talking to Nellise, or at least having the option to look at her from time to time.

Valennia, true to her word, was easily jogging alongside the wagon. Her earlier protestations against riding horses had a ring of falsehood about them, and Pacian suspected she didn't actually know how to ride and resorted to bluster to cover up her weakness.

His view at the front of the wagon was dominated by the rear end of the ox that pulled it along, and the merchant was more than pleased to have someone to talk to for a change. His name was Austin Campbell, and he was boring Pacian to tears.

"If you take the time to look to your right, young sir," he was saying, as if someone had appointed him as an official tour guide, "you will notice the tremendous view afforded by our increasing altitude. Notice the inlet over yonder? If you look closely, you can see the twin forts that guard the entrance. I've travelled this road for nearly thirty years..."

In an effort to save his sanity, Pacian let his mind wander while maintaining the appearance of paying attention. Now and then he'd voice a surprised 'You don't say!' or 'How about that,' to continue the illusion. The view was quite impressive, but he didn't need someone telling him about it, because it was right there. His ears popped as they continued to slowly climb through the foothills, the inexhaustible ox continuing to pull them along without complaint.

Eventually, Pacian's generic platitudes wore thin on Campbell, and he quietened down for the rest of the day. Pacian dozed off after a while, bored beyond measure and more than happy to catch up on sleep. He awoke just as the sun was setting, and noticed that the wagon had come to a stop at a large, open area off the side of the road. A dozen or so other wagons were parked nearby, and large fire pits filled with wood were being lit by the people who would be their neighbours for the night.

"This is MacKenner Plateau," Austin explained as he jumped down from the wagon. "It sits halfway between Fairloch and Stonegaard, and serves as a decent campsite for travellers like us. I hope you bought some warm blankets, as you'll be sleeping in the coldest place in the north."

"Just like home," Valennia murmured between heavy breaths that sent mist wafting around her head. Pacian wrapped his cloak tightly around him and stepped down, shivering in the bitter cold despite his thick clothing. Aside from the merchants and travellers gathering around the fires, the plateau was devoid of life. They were right at the beginning of the Stonegaards, positioned between two huge mountains that made Pacian feel insignificant.

An even more captivating view awaited him at the edge of the plateau, which overlooked the route they had taken through the foothills, winding through the snow like a snake. As the light continued to fade, a heavy fog settled over the land as far as the eye could see. Through the thickening mist, the twinkling lights of Fairloch could be seen fighting off the encroaching darkness, lending a dream-like quality to the landscape.

Pacian was unaccustomed to deep thinking, but the sight from atop one of the highest ranges in the land of the largest city in the known world, in all its evening glory, made him more contemplative than usual.

"Magnificent, is it not?" Nellise said quietly, coming to stand alongside Pacian. "I haven't been up here since I was a little girl, yet aside from a few more lights in the city, the place has hardly changed at all."

"You'd think some enterprising bloke would build a proper inn here," Pacian grumbled, shivering slightly. He was pleased she was talking to him again, though he kept his excitement well hidden. "There's good money to be made here, and I for one wouldn't mind handing over a few coins for a nice warm bed tonight."

"We've been through worse," Nellise hinted.

"On the frontier, sure," Pacian shrugged, "but this is supposed to be the beacon of civilisation. Yet here we are, smack-dab in-between two major cities, freezing our backsides off. I should warn you — with conditions this cold, we may have to share a bedroll for warmth. You know, to survive."

"You have a singular talent for killing the mood, Pace," Nellise sighed, turning and walking away, leaving his smile to fade as he realised he'd pushed too far, too early. He smacked himself on the forehead and berated himself silently. The lines he usually relied on to warm his bed on a cold evening were only useful on regular girls.

"You'll just have to keep yourself company tonight," Sayana consoled him in mocking tones, giving him a pat on the back as she walked past. Pacian glared at her, his eyes boring holes in her back as she hurried after Nellise.

Shrugging off his introspection, Pacian went to stand by one of the fire pits, the flames providing a welcome relief from the icy wind. They dined on cured meats brought with them from Fairloch, roasted over the flames until crackling with flavour. Outside of the immediate circle around the fires, the temperature was plummeting even further, so Pacian set up his bedroll close to the nearest pit, with the partial shelter of a nearby wagon providing a measure of relief from the wind.

There was little point in staying up, as there was nothing to see or do on the barren plateau. The small crowd of travellers began to seek their tents around the same time as Pacian, resigning himself to huddling around the fire for the night. The exceptions were those enterprising merchants who had left a little space in their wagons, just big enough for them to sleep in. Austin Campbell was one of them, forcing Nellise and the other women to find an empty patch of ground, just like Pacian.

As he piled on the blankets, Pacian was suddenly surprised to find someone slipping in beside him. A sly smile found its way onto his face as he realised Nellise had taken him up on his offer. Rolling over to face her, he found himself nose-to-nose with Valennia.

"What do you think you're doing?" he whispered, hoping Nellise wasn't seeing this.

"You made a good point before," she replied in a similarly hushed voice. "I will share your bed this evening, Pacian, although your previous performance back in the city does not fill me with confidence."

"I don't even remember that," he protested, momentarily torn between his unreciprocated dedication to Nellise and the prospect of companionship for the evening. As her cold hands started furrowing around underneath his clothing, he finally relented and just went along with it. She was, after all, soft and warm, with many fine qualities one might look for in a partner.

"Try to keep it quiet," he whispered as his heart started to race. "I don't want to put on a show for the rest of these bastards."

"They won't even know what happened," the akoran woman assured him as she grabbed his backside with both hands.

* * *

If anyone overheard the amorous activities going on beneath Pacian's blanket during the night, nobody mentioned it the following day. They set out shortly after dawn, every one of the travellers eager to be done with the journey, and Pacian sat on the driver's seat once more, watching Valennia jog alongside with mild amusement. He had offered to give her a break by relinquishing his seat, but the proud woman had refused, as Pacian knew she would. If he thought for a moment she would have accepted his offer, he would never have made it.

Pacian found it refreshing that her attitude towards him hadn't changed as a result of their dalliance. They had some fun, and didn't let it affect their lives, which he was just fine with. Most of the women he had bedded in the past couple of years seemed to expect something more the next day, so he had learned early on to vacate the area at the earliest opportunity to avoid complications. Pacian and Valennia seemed to be of like mind, however, and he barely gave it another thought for the rest of the journey.

A light snowfall danced through the air a few hours after they set out, swirling around them in the mountain air. They were amongst the Stonegaards properly now, with the mighty peaks towering around them. The road wended its way through them on the path of least resistance, extending what would ordinarily be a short trip from Fairloch to the dwarven lands. The magnificent view over the northern coast was obscured by the weather for the remainder of the day, until the first signs of civilisation could be seen emerging from the mists ahead.

A number of squat homesteads were visible in the snow, with smoke wafting up from chimneys, and a warm glow coming from the windows. More of them could be seen over the next few minutes as the wagon plodded along, the quaint little cottages home to the dwarven families that farmed the surrounding lands. With winter heavy upon the land, they had little to do now but wait for spring.

Austin brought the wagon to a halt at a large building that loomed out of the mist, with "Auchlevie Inn" written in large letters upon a sign that hung over the front door. Other script, no doubt the heavy language of the dwarves, was written underneath it and a number of the stout folk were busy unloading from another wagon.

"This is as far as I go," Austin advised Pacian as he clambered down off the wagon, his breath causing a torrent of mist to issue forth with each word. "I thank you and the ladies for your company, quiet though it was. You will need to find your way to Stonegaard on foot from here, unless you are fortunate enough to find a dwarven merchant with some room."

"We are more than capable of travelling the rest of the way on foot," Valennia replied before Pacian could say anything.

"Then I shall leave you to it," Campbell said, clapping his hands together for warmth.

"What?" Valennia asked of Pacian, who gave her an accusing stare. "The exercise will do the three of you well —too long have you sat on that conveyance, allowing your muscles to waste away."

"I suppose we can't argue with that," Nellise mused. "It's only an hour from here, so if we start out now, we should arrive long before sunset."

"Are we in that much of a hurry?" Pacian protested. "That inn looks like a nice place to warm up."

"I'm sure we'll find something similar at Stonegaard," Sayana said. "Besides, you and Val should be able to warm up just fine on your own." Pacian felt his ears burning as he glowered at the smirking redhead. Damn her and her elven ears, he thought to himself.

He glanced sheepishly at Nellise, whose beautiful face was so unreadable it might have been carved from marble. Without further word, she led them out of the small hamlet and further along the road, with only the sound of the mournful wind blowing across the landscape to break up the silence.

It was close to sundown by the time they reached a frost-covered signpost that pointed toward their destination. The traffic along the road had been sparse to say the least, but as they turned off the main highway towards Stonegaard, the small group suddenly found themselves walking on the edge to avoid the crowd.

Dozens of the stout folk were gathered along the short road, most of them wearing metal armour of some sort. Mules and wagons laden with equipment, covered in burlap, were queued up as dwarven men and women came along and deposited more gear into the convoy.

Some of the wagons were clearly merchants, hauling loads of ore dug from beneath the mountain and complaining about the holdup. For the most part, the convoy seemed to be of a military bent, the protruding points of crossbow and ballista bolts visible under the cloth.

"What in heaven's name is going on here?" Nellise wondered rhetorically as they made their way past. Pacian could hear the dwarves talking in their native language, but he couldn't understand a word of it. Valennia had her own insights, however.

"They are preparing for battle," she declared. "You can see it in their eyes."

"Who is there to fight around here?" Sayana asked curiously. Nobody had the answer. They continued past the assemblage until they reached the main gate to the city, a massive, round portal that was almost identical to the one they had seen at Ferrumgaard, the doomed dwarven city far to the west of here.

This gate was in far better condition, as one would expect, and was covered in elaborate sculpting that said much for the skills of the dwarven craftsmen who had built it. Burly guards stood watch over the entrance, heavily armoured and carrying broad-headed axes. They stopped the small group as they approached, asking their business in a casual way that belied the tension in the air.

Memories of Ferrumgaard came flashing back as Pacian stepped inside, most of them unpleasant. He spared a thought for their old comrade, Clavis MacAliese, who had given his life so the rest of them could escape the cursed city of Ferrumgaard. Of course, Clavis had been responsible for getting them into that mess in the first place, so Pacian didn't shed any tears over his demise.

The air was a little smoky and a good deal warmer than outside, the kind of warmth that seemed to rise up through the ground. Someone had mentioned the previous night around the campfire that Stonegaard was built above a river of lava, and so it was always warm, even in the middle of winter. Metal tubes soared up to the ceiling and disappeared into the rock, what Clavis described as ventilation tubes so the people in the city didn't suffocate. Shops lined the main thoroughfare, as in any city, with merchants hawking their wares to the passers-by.

Pacian's instincts detected opportunities to lift a few coin pouches here and there, but he resisted the impulse, realising that they were here to seek the aid of these people. A dwarven woman with dark, braided hair bumped into him and in the momentary confusion, Pacian couldn't resist lifting her purse.

"Pardon me," he apologised, the giddy thrill of a successful theft surging through him. The woman hardly glanced at him, and he could easily have walked off with the money. "Ma'am, I think you dropped something," he called after a moment's consideration, reaching over to hand back the coin pouch.

"Oh, thank you sir," she replied in mild astonishment. "I can't imagine how I dropped it."

"These things happen to the best of us," Pacian opined sagely. "Think nothing of it." She smiled up at him as he gave the pouch back, and Pacian didn't dislike what he saw. It was the first time he'd seen a dwarven woman, and she wasn't what he'd expected in the least. Although of a robust frame, she had full lips, large brown eyes and impressive curves.

"What are you up to?" Sayana asked suspiciously, peaking around him to see what the commotion was about.

"Just helping someone out," Pacian replied innocently, though his tone did nothing to allay her disbelieving gaze. Satisfied his skills weren't diminishing, he continued on his way through the throng to catch up with Nellise, with Sayana following closely behind.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Sayana asked of Nellise.

"I was informed there was a diplomatic office just up ahead," she replied, pointing at a shopfront carved out of the rock itself. "We need to request an audience before the king will see us."

"Isn't our mission urgent enough to get us in there?"

"I was instructed to only speak with the king and his closest advisors about that," Nellise informed her. "I shall go there now and arrange the meeting, but the three of you can head straight to the tavern and wait, if you please."

"Now there's a plan I can get behind," Pacian said with relief. "Where is this place?"

"We passed it on the way in," Nellise responded. "Look for the spiral staircase on the right near the entrance. I'll meet you there shortly." She threaded her way to the diplomatic office, leaving the three of them to make their way back to the tavern.

It turned out to be a fully-fledged inn with the rather alarming name of the "Rockslide". Although Pacian didn't care much for architecture, even he was impressed by the construction of the building. Like most of the shops on the top level of Stonegaard, it was carved into the surrounding earth, but the Rockslide went one step further, elevating the inner floors up through the strata and back outside again, effectively perching the top levels on the side of the mountain.

The narrow staircase wound upwards through the rock and opened out into a brightly-lit common room. Ceiling-high windows encased the building in a wall of glass, offering a breathtaking view of the mountainside. It was still heavily shrouded in fog and snow, but during clear weather Pacian could well imagine clear blue skies framing the picturesque landscape.

Men and women from Fairloch seemed to be the primary clientele for the Rockslide, though the inn itself was managed by the local dwarven owners. Elegantly carved wooden furniture and plush red carpets gave the place a refined look, with crackling fireplaces on either end of the large common room providing ample heat to take the chill from the air.

"Now this is more like it," Pacian murmured appreciatively, heading straight to the bar. He'd heard of the dwarven people's love of fine ales, and after a few minutes of sampling, he came to the conclusion the reputation was well-deserved. Sayana and Valennia ordered food, and as the light faded from the sky, heavy curtains were drawn over the large windows. It was at this point that Pacian was required to pay for his drinks, and led to the discovery he had lost his coin pouch.

A moment of panic washed over him as he realised exactly how much money was in that pouch, and it took a feat of willpower to stifle the urge to swear loudly.

"Missing something?" a smooth, feminine voice asked from nearby. Turning to see who was speaking to him, Pacian recognised the dwarven woman from whom he had pilfered a coin pouch. She was sitting on a stool, legs crossed and covered in a dark blue pleated dress, watching him with mild amusement. It occurred to Pacian at that moment that she had bumped into him on purpose, and he silently berated himself for giving her money back.

"You're good," Pacian grumbled, sauntering over with drink in hand to take a closer look at his dwarven counterpart. "I don't think I've been taken like that before. Perhaps I should call for the guards to haul you away?"

"Why would they do that when I'm simply returning a coin pouch you dropped earlier?" she replied, her sonorous voice smooth and surprisingly deep. With a sly smile, she dropped Pacian's pouch onto the counter-top, which he promptly snatched away and placed securely on his belt. "Think of it as professional courtesy," she continued. "After all, you had the decency to return my coins."

"I wish I could say that it's nice to meet a fellow professional, but it's really not," Pacian remarked.

"Just refrain from practicing your skills on our streets and we'll get along famously," she replied, more than a hint of a threat behind her smile. "What's your name, Blondie?"

"Pacian Savidge," he informed her, carefully scrutinizing her features for signs of deception.

"I'm Sloane MacAliese," she said, taking a sip from her own drink. "I hope you're here on pleasure, not business, or my associates and I might have to ask you to leave."

"It's business, but nothing to do with you and yours," Pacian assured her evenly. "One of my associates represents the throne of Aielund, and we're here in an official capacity. MacAliese, was it? I met a Clavis MacAliese a few weeks back. Any relation?" Pacian's casual inquiry had a startling effect upon the dwarven woman. Her sly, guarded expression was replaced by surprise and concern.

"That's my father," she replied quietly. "I haven't seen him in two years... where did you meet him?"

"Culdeny first, but we worked together for a little while over in the west," Pacian explained casually, pleased that he had some measure of control over the conversation now.

"How is he?"

"Dead, the last time I saw him," Pacian said, watching the play of emotions over her face. Her affiliation with Clavis seemed to be genuine, judging by her reaction.

"I don't suppose you'd care to elaborate," Sloane hinted darkly, her suspicious gaze returning once more. Pacian took the time to explain their expedition into Ferrumgaard, and at the mention of that cursed place, her resolve crumbled. Pacian gave her some time to compose herself, as tears made their way down her distraught face.

As he sipped his ale, he noticed Nellise emerge from the top of the stairwell, walking purposefully over to him. Before she could speak, Pacian intercepted her and guided her to one side so as not to disturb Sloane.

"Why is that woman crying?" Nellise whispered accusingly.

"She just learned of her father's death," Pacian explained. "Give her a minute."

"I don't understand," the cleric protested, peering at the sobbing woman over Pacian's shoulder.

"She's Clavis' daughter," Pacian whispered. Nellise nodded solemnly, and stepped past him to offer her condolences. Pacian gave them a little time to themselves before rejoining the conversation.

"He was always so driven," Sloane was saying, wiping the tears from her face. "Every day after work he would study maps, diagrams, anything he could get his hands on that might tell him how to get inside that damned place. After all that, he ended up dying there... I can hardly believe it. Wait, is that his repeater you have on your back?"

"Yes, it is, actually," Nellise replied self-consciously, touching the handle of the repeating crossbow. "I've been putting it to good use since we escaped Ferrumgaard, but if you feel you'd like to have it as a keepsake..."

"No, it's a weapon, don't be ridiculous," Sloane scoffed in-between sobs. "Better that you keep using it, since you had the courage to stand by him in the end."

"Yes, there is that," Nellise hedged, glancing at Pacian who gave her a subtle shake of his head. It was best that Sloane didn't hear of Clavis' deceptions, and how he nearly left them all to die facing a giant water serpent.

"Well, I'm sorry to have met you under such circumstances, Miss MacAliese," Nellise sighed, "but my friends and I have an important meeting to attend, so I shall leave you to grieve in peace."

"We do?" Sayana asked as she and Valennia came over to find out what was going on.

"I have arranged a meeting with a representative of King Sulinus," Nellise explained.

"That was fast," Pacian remarked as he took a final swig of his drink and placed the empty mug on the counter, along with a few coins from his recovered pouch.

"Once I had established my credentials, they seemed eager to hear what I had to say," Nellise shrugged.

"Lead on, then," Valennia said, eager to get on with their task. Pacian turned and put his hand on Sloane's. "I'm sorry for your loss," he offered. "Perhaps I'll see you around in the next day or two, and we can talk some more?"

"Thank you both for bringing me this news," she whispered, fighting back the tears. Pacian turned and followed Nellise to the stairwell, walking alongside Sayana. On an impulse, he turned and looked back at the dwarf before they descended the stairs and saw her looking incredulously at Sayana, just before they dropped out of sight. Pacian was uncertain what that was about until he noticed the shining vythiric axe strapped to her back, and recalled that it was of some importance to the dwarven people.

"That's gonna be trouble," he muttered to himself as they continued on through the city.

* * *

"I bid ya all welcome, on behalf o' His Majesty King Sulinus MacTavish, ruler of Stonegaard and Thane of Thanes," the official greeted them as the group entered his modest chambers. "I am Chamberlain MacKenner, liaison to the Kingdom of Aielund. Please, be seated." The ceiling was high enough to accommodate humans, although Valennia put that theory to the test, scraping by with barely an inch to spare.

The room was sparsely decorated with stone carvings atop modestly sized furniture, reflecting the no-nonsense approach to business the dwarven people were renowned for. The chamberlain himself however, was dressed in expensive clothing, and his grey hair was neatly combed to one side. His beard was short and crisply cut along the edge, giving Pacian the impression he was a little too obsessed with his appearance.

"Now, I am led to understand that yer seekin' some kind o' weapon?" the chamberlain inquired, his hands clasped in front of him on the desk.

"From what I've been informed," Nellise replied, "it's more of an arcane tool than a weapon, one that will serve us all greatly in the near future."

"In what capacity?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss it at this time," Nellise hedged. "Suffice it to say, Aielund places a great deal of importance on the recovery of this relic, and we are willing to pay handsomely for it."

"I see," MacKenner said, smoothing his beard thoughtfully. He lifted a sheet of paper and took a few moments to read the scrawled handwriting upon it. Pacian shifted impatiently in his seat and glanced over at Valennia, who seemed to be experiencing similar discomfort. "The Sceptre of Oblivion," the Chamberlain read aloud, "said to banish one's enemies from existence. Sounds like a weapon to me."

"If it helps, you may consider it as such," Nellise said diplomatically.

"I can't say I've ever heard o' such a device before, but I'm neither a librarian nor a wizard. What makes ya think me people have this little trinket?"

"It is thought that it was stored in Ferrumgaard, long ago," the cleric went on, crossing her legs in a relaxed fashion.

"Then it is lost," MacKenner stated flatly. "And I'll thank ye not to mention the name o' that cursed place, if ya can avoid it."

"I understand that it's a touchy subject for your people, and I'm not insensitive to your discomfort. It is thought the relic might have been saved and brought along when your people evacuated the city."

"We were all pretty busy running fer our lives, and the only things we grabbed were our loved ones, fer the most part," the chamberlain explained grimly.

"I take it you were amongst them," Sayana observed.

"Ya take it correctly," MacKenner confirmed. "But... amongst all that, a few o' me kin did bring along a few boxes along with 'em, so there is a slim possibility yer sceptre was amongst them. As I said, it's not me field of expertise, but I will forward yer request to the archivists and see what we can find."

"We'd greatly appreciate it," Nellise said with a relieved smile. "How long is this likely to take?"

"Considering how busy things are at the moment, it might be a few weeks," MacKenner replied, hands spread wide apologetically.

"Is there anything you can do to expedite the search?" Nellise inquired, her brief moment of relief fading rapidly.

"'Tis all a matter of knowing the right people," the Chamberlain explained. "And the right people are a bit preoccupied right now." Pacian levelled a disbelieving gaze at the bureaucrat, suspecting that he was fishing for something in return.

"Is there anything we can do for you that might speed things up?" Pacian asked cynically.

"What are ye implying?" MacKenner asked shrewdly. In reply, Pacian took out his coin pouch and sat it on the desk before him. He set his hand down to one side and drummed his fingers on the polished wood.

"If yer thinkin' to bribe me, think again," MacKenner growled.

"Oh, you misunderstand," Pacian said lightly. "This is no bribe. Think of it as a contribution to your people's war chest. After all, conducting even a small battle can be expensive, am I right?"

"I don't know what ye've heard, but we're not at war," the Chamberlain hedged, looking at the coin pouch with covetous eyes. Valennia, her patience exhausted, slammed her fist down on the desk, startling everyone with the sudden noise.

"Enough of these word games!" she snarled. "You are all wasting valuable time. Find this weapon for us, tiny man, or direct us to someone who can help. And do not attempt to disguise what is taking place outside your gates — that is a war party, planning to leave at first light if I am not mistaken. Whom do you make war upon, bearded one, and can I join in?" The Chamberlain took a moment to compose himself after the akoran's outburst.

"As I said, I will send your request to the archivists," he said carefully. "It will take time, but if you were to offer a service to our city it is entirely possible—"

"What service do you require?" Valennia interrupted, her temper short. Nellise placed a hand on her arm to try and calm her down.

"Understand that this information is sensitive, and were ya not official representatives of our staunch allies in Aielund, no amount of coercion would compel me to divulge what you are about to hear," MacKenner divulged in a low voice, leaning forward over his desk. "We greatly depend on trade here in Stonegaard, and to have a major highway blockaded is intolerable."

"Who's blocking the road?" Sayana asked, unsure what the dwarf was referring to. "Do you have a bandit problem in the mountains?"

"No, our problem is a little bigger than that," MacKenner responded. "Half the nobility in the city are losing money every day, and they're screaming at the king to take action. Yer own king is out of the country fighting a war, so it falls to us to secure the mountains. A full company of warriors are mustering out front for action at first dawn, as ye so delicately pointed out."

"I still don't understand who—" Nellise said, before Sayana interrupted.

"Don't you see?" she blurted, gathering everyone's attention. "They're not chasing some bandits, they're going after the dragon, Azurefang!" A deathly silence fell in the room as this startling revelation sank in.

"This is madness," Nellise whispered, but the chamberlain seemed resolute.

"This is our home, my lady," he said, leaning back in his chair. "No-one and nothing blocks the highway, and as representatives of Aielund, whose roads we will be risking our lives to clear, I officially request ye aid us in whatever manner ye can provide. If ya refuse, well... it might take months to get the information ya came for."

"Subtle," Pacian growled, displeased at being manipulated.

"It seems we don't have much choice," Nellise stated, receiving a satisfied nod from the chamberlain. The tension in the room was palpable, and nobody spoke for a long moment until Valennia broke the silence.

"Bloody fantastic," she uttered with a wild grin.

Chapter Four

As the sun sank into the west, Aiden noted that his body was sore in ways he didn't realise were possible. They had ridden hard all day, stopping only briefly for short periods of rest when needed. As bad as Aiden felt, Ronan had it worse. The sailor practically toppled off his mount when they came to a stop in a clearing, groaning in pain and clutching at his legs. They had taken pity on the poor man, setting up the camp and tending his horse while he writhed on the ground.

The temperature, already just above freezing, plummeted further as the sun set and the four weary travellers gathered around the blazing campfire Sir William had lit to ward off the winter chill. The weather remained fair and stars twinkled lazily in the heavens, but the clear skies worked against them, ensuring a cold night ahead.

Aiden sat in his bedroll next to the fire, enjoying the sizzling meat Sir William had cooked. The knight's earlier melancholy seemed to have abated somewhat, perhaps aided by the mundane tasks of setting up camp. The sounds of wolves baying could be heard far in the distance, but otherwise it was an otherwise peaceful scene. At the edge of the firelight, their horses stood covered in blankets, with Maggie's white tiger nuzzling and licking them like they were his kittens.

"That's... just wrong," Ronan remarked, propped up against his equipment near the fire. Maggie glanced over and smiled at the sight of the animals, absently rubbing her injured arm with her other hand. The sleeve of her tunic was slowly filling out as her arm regrew, and she was at the point where she could place a glove on the end of her arm. It was still empty, but that would change soon enough.

"I'm so used to it that I hardly notice anymore," the raelani druid shrugged. "Thorn is particularly friendly anyway, so it doesn't take much coaxing to have him treating animals he'd normally be eating as old friends."

"How did you end up with a tiger as a pet, anyway?" Aiden asked curiously. "They're kind of rare this far north, and not really common even in the south from what I've read."

"That's essentially correct," Maggie confirmed, wrapping herself up in a blanket. "Have you ever heard of the Grand Duchy of Kurhain?"

"I recall Nellise mention that her family was from there, though I know nothing else about it."

"Is that right?" she said with mild surprise. "She's a long way from home, then. Sometime in the past the old empire of Ramidia was invaded by a large force from across the sea. The empire was ancient and already crumbling from within, so it was slow to respond, allowing the enemy to gain a foothold."

"With the war continuing for many years, some of the Kurhanir aristocrats brought their expensive pets from the mainland, including tigers, which had never before existed in Feydwiir. Not long after this, the northern part of the Ramidian Empire took advantage of the situation to revolt, causing massive upheaval in province of Lyden. Many of these exotic imported pets were lost during the fighting, making their way into the wild. Cats, being the most adaptable of creatures, managed to survive to this day."

"So, they're just like other wild cats now?" Ronan asked. "I'm guessing you just picked one up in the forest someplace. You could have just told us that in the beginning, you know."

"It's not quite that simple," Maggie corrected the sailor. "True tigers are rare in the wilds, as they are often hunted for sport and they've begun to interbreed with our native mountain lions. I found Thorn as a cub, after the rest of his pride had been slaughtered." Her voice tightened as she spoke, clearly implying that she was still outraged at the killing, even now.

"I hope you brought those people to justice for their crime," Sir William said, caught up in her story as much as any of them.

"After tending to the cub's injuries, I took it upon myself to dispense some frontier justice," Maggie assured him. "There were five humans, all armed with crossbows. None survived."

"That seems a little harsh," the old knight pointed out.

"You think that I should have tried to arrest them?" she scoffed. "We were in the deep forests of the Kingdom of Clydach, and there was no way I was going to try and drag five of them back to a city for trial. No, while in the forests of this land, I am justice." She took a moment to fill a small kettle with water and place it onto the fire.

"I'll tell you something else, gentlemen — I have been all across the northern end of Feydwiir and in my travels, I have seen only one other true tiger. When an animal becomes that scarce, it is the duty of my order to ensure their survival. Thorn has been with me ever since, possibly the last of the great tigers in these lands."

"That leads me to another question," Ronan said, catching her attention. "Your people aren't known for travel or high adventure, as such, so how does a raelani woman go from being a copper to a druid hundreds of miles away from home?"

"Being a member of the Brigham Watch wasn't all it was cracked up... hey! I never said I was a copper!" Maggie protested.

"I could have sworn you did," Ronan mused, a twinkle in his eye. Aiden grinned as he realised that he'd gotten the truth out of her at last.

"That's a damned lie and you know it," Maggie fumed.

"Well, since the cats out of the bag, you might as well keep talking," Ronan said.

"Alright, since you've figured it out..." she began with a rueful grin. "You're right — I was a member of the Watch in Brigham, capitol of the Rael islands, and the first woman to be allowed into their ranks. I was very young at the time, full of fire and frankly a lot smarter than most of the Watch. And yes, that attitude got me into trouble more than once."

"I can well imagine," Aiden remarked.

"So, Brigham is a proper city?" Ronan inquired.

"Yes, modelled after Fairloch, if you must know," Maggie explained. "The first of our people to visit your cities years ago were suitably impressed, and had a great influence on our society. The place changed so much, even in my time there," she added, her eyes misting over with nostalgia.

"You left your home because you didn't like the new direction it was heading?" Sir William tried to guess.

"Somewhat, yes," she replied. "You have to understand that I grew up in the country, with wide, rolling hills and green as far as the eye could see. After five years working for the Watch, I implicated some corrupt officials who were skimming money from merchants in the city. Although I was rewarded like a hero for bringing them in, most of the Watch shunned me after that. I eventually left, always wondering just how big that conspiracy really was."

"So, I'd had enough of corruption and sexism for one lifetime and found a nice man to settle down with, out in the countryside. We raised two children, and life was fine until I caught my husband with another woman. Needless to say, I was unimpressed and left him. Just goes to show you that you don't really know someone as well as you might think."

"The urban landscape continued to grow over time, and my kids and I ended up moving deeper into the forest, where I learned the lore of herbal medicine from an old forester named Tamlyn. Just before she passed on, she bade me to seek out the druids of Feybourne that I might live the dream she never had the courage to pursue. With my young ones all grown up, I eventually travelled here and joined the druidic ranks, and I've been here ever since."

"Now they've gone and betrayed you as well," Ronan remarked.

"I see you've picked up on the recurring theme in my life," Maggie replied dourly. "I sometimes wonder if I'm responsible for it all, or if I'm just unlucky enough to end up in the right place at the wrong time."

"You uncovered corrupt officials, raised a family, and now alerted the Crown to the growing threat from your former brothers and sisters," Sir William said without looking up from his food. "It seems to me that perhaps you were in the right place at the right time."

"That's one way of looking at it," Maggie responded dubiously.

"I'm curious about your order, and their reasons for becoming hostile to civilised society," Aiden inquired. "Is there anything else can you tell us?"

"Oh, there was always a latent hostility amongst the sect towards civilisation," Maggie corrected him, "but the louder members never held sway until six weeks ago."

"What changed?"

"Our leader vanished," Maggie replied, taking a moment to lift the kettle from the flames with a stick, and then pouring the hot water into a small cup. A curious aroma wafted through the air, probably from a mixture of herbs within.

"I recall you mentioning he was deposed, back when we first met," Aiden reminded her.

"That's what I believe happened, yes," Maggie nodded as she sipped her drink. "Our sect was becoming more and more divided on the subject of direct action, and I think that a group of four druids might have had a hand in his disappearance. The arch druid went into Feybourne one day, as he often did, but this time he never returned. When I started to investigate, I was warned to leave it alone. Being me, I couldn't."

"Once a copper, always a copper," Ronan observed laconically.

"I guess so," Maggie mumbled. "Anyway, to make a long story short, I ruffled some feathers and they came after me. I was outnumbered four to one so I jumped onto Thorn and rode off as fast as I could. They were aiming to kill, and I was lucky to escape with my life."

"With our support, hopefully you can reach an accord with them," Sir William said. "It would be a tragedy for this to devolve into a war based on misunderstandings."

"I suspect that time has now passed," Maggie replied ruefully. "I fear that events in Fairloch have kept me away for too long, and the situation may well have escalated in my absence."

"You're probably right," Ronan yawned, lying down.

"Hey, wait a minute," Maggie said as the sailor appeared to be getting ready to sleep. "You've learned about my past, now I want to hear about yours."

"Are you planning to arrest me or something?" Ronan asked.

"Of course not, but fair's fair."

"There's not much to tell," Ronan shrugged. "But okay. My father was an elven merchant with a weakness for human women. He got a whore at a local brothel pregnant and then skipped town to avoid the shame, leaving my mother and her associates to raise me. I spent a lot of time on the street, and eventually joined up with the local thieves to get a better deal in life. After a couple of decades of that, I got sick of the violent bastards who were starting to dominate the guild and left to join the navy. Then you showed up. I think you know the rest."

"That's it?" Maggie asked, disappointed.

"Yep."

"I liked Maggie's story better," Aiden drawled.

"Me too, it warmed the cockles of my heart," Ronan drawled. "Now I'm tired and sore, so I'm going to sleep. I suggest you all do the same."

"Sound advice," Sir William agreed, stripping off his armour. Aiden did likewise with his breastplate and then pulled the blankets over his head to keep warm, but also to ensure that they wouldn't see the blue light that would be emerging from underneath. Though he was tired, he couldn't resist studying the cube for just a couple of hours.

The images of strange runes appeared above the relic once more as he activated it, and by pressing the little nodules on the sides, he was able to control what he saw. It was a kind of mystical book, complete with strange diagrams and other drawings which hovered in the air before him. Clearly, the markings were some kind of language and he was determined to figure it out, using the runes still visible on the crystal shard hanging around his neck as a guide.

Hours later, his eyelids grew heavy and the images before him started to blur together and Aiden finally had to put away the device, though the strange sigils were imprinted on his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The next day's ride was hard-going, as the weather took a turn for the worse. They had no choice but to lower their heads into the icy wind and keep going, hoping to reach the city of Amalis before nightfall. Passing merchants went by almost unseen in the squalid conditions, and Aiden felt frozen to his saddle, with his poor horse clearly exhausted from the effort.

Thoughts of sizzling hot food and roaring fires had kept Aiden alert during the ride, but his resolve was faltering as the sun made its descent toward the western horizon. Maggie lifted her arm to call for a halt as the party stopped within sight of the gates, steam rising from their breath and the flanks of their mounts.

"I'll have to say goodbye to Thorn again, for the time being," Maggie sighed, sliding to the ground and caressing the big cat's fur affectionately. She leaned forward and whispered into his ear, stroking his mane as she did. Thorn uttered a low growl and immediately turned and stalked off into the tree line, turning back to look at Maggie once before disappearing into the brush.

They were permitted entry by the guardsmen, who were more concerned with warming themselves by a nearby fire. The walls here were made of stone, but while far less impressive than those of Fairloch, they were newer were of an improved design.

The sounds and smells of the sea could be sensed nearby, for the city was built on a small bay. Few were risking the elements in this weather, and the streets were almost deserted as they made their way towards the first inn they could find, creatively called "The Buccaneer".

Wrapped in his longcoat, Aiden was almost snap-frozen from their long ride and wanted nothing more than to fall face-first into a roaring fire, but Maggie had other plans.

"You can stable your mounts here, but I want to head straight to the Ducal Palace and speak with His Grace," she informed them. Aiden noticed that the glove on her injured arm was flexing, albeit stiffly.

"How's the hand?" he asked, pointing at the gloved appendage.

"It's bugging me no end, actually," Maggie grumbled. "I've had pins and needles the whole day, so you'll have to excuse me if I get a bit short-tempered."

"Yeah, you were probably better off with just the one hand," Ronan remarked sardonically. Maggie gave him a withering glance.

"Looks like we have a volunteer to stable the mounts and get us some rooms," she ordered briskly. "If we're not back when you're done, come find us."

"Fine by me," Ronan chuckled, stepping inside the door to the inn where Aiden had only the briefest glimpse of the warm, inviting room beyond.

Resigned to his fate, Aiden followed them along the freezing streets with the snow crunching under their boots as they walked. Amalis was far smaller than the capital, with less than a quarter of the population, so within ten minutes they had arrived at a large stone building with broad stone steps leading up to the entrance.

Aiden spared a thought for the poor guardsmen standing watch outside the large double-doors, though they showed no signs of complaint. After Sir William established his credentials and their reasons for entry, they were allowed into the building. Stepping inside brought instant relief from the pressing cold, though the large hallway wasn't itself heated.

The interior of the hall was not what Aiden was expecting. Furniture was piled up against the walls, rolls of carpet were sitting in the floor waiting to be unfurled, and piles of office equipment and personal belongings were stacked in small rooms off the main hall.

"It wasn't like this last time I came through," Maggie remarked absently, her small voice echoing along the passageway. Aiden watched a few of the duke's staff going through sheaves of paper in search of some elusive documents. One of the staffers looked up at the sounds of Sir William's armoured footfalls echoing down the hall and walked over to address them. She was a large, middle-aged woman who seemed to enjoy her food a little too much.

"Good afternoon, sir," she began pleasantly. "You'll have to forgive the state we're in at the moment. The new duke arrived only yesterday and we're struggling to catch up."

"What happened to Duke Markham?" Maggie inquired.

"He passed away last week I'm afraid," the official informed them sadly. "Old age, you know. The funeral was very respectful. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I was actually here to see His Grace, but it looks like I will have to speak with his replacement."

"Ah, well he's terribly busy—"

"Just send them through, Missus Caversham," called a loud voice from a room at the end of the corridor.

"At once, Your Grace," Caversham replied, shrugging at Maggie and gesturing for them to head in. When they entered the office, Aiden saw a man dressed in an expensive blue longcoat standing on a chair, attempting to hang a large painting on the wall. He managed to latch it onto a hook of some sort, and then began trying to level it out.

"Please, be seated," he said absently without turning to look. The room was still in the midst of being properly set up, judging by the stacks of furniture and equipment, though the duke was slowly bringing some semblance of order to his workspace. Aiden turned a few chairs upright and placed them before the Duke's large oaken desk for the others to sit upon, before taking one for himself.

"You'll have to forgive the state of my 'palace,'" the duke offered as he looked with satisfaction upon the painting before turning to meet his guests. He was not an old man by any stretch of the imagination, though a few wisps of grey hair could be seen at his temples. He was thin, quite tall, and his otherwise dark hair was pulled back into a short tail at the top of his neck, in the same fashion as Sir William's. His grey eyes were sharp and alert, giving Aiden the impression he was a man of intelligence.

"Think nothing of it, Your Grace," Sir William said, "we understand the nature of your recent appointment, though I do find it strange that your staff is not setting up your chambers themselves."

"My staff has yet to arrive, Sir Knight," the Duke explained, sitting down behind his desk and clasping his hands before him. "A few of the locals are helping me in the interim. Trained people are in short supply at this time, as are many things due to the war effort. The full weight of this office fell upon me scant minutes after I walked in, with all manner of complaints and requests piling up. Forgive me, I have yet to introduce myself. I am Richard Sothby, recently appointed as Duke of Amalis."

"I am Sir William Bryce-Clifton, and these are my associates Aiden Wainwright and Margaret Fairweather," the old knight said with aplomb. "I offer my congratulations on your new station, though I wish that it were under better circumstances."

"I am pleased to meet you. Tell me, what brings you here?"

"It's a straight-forward matter, Your Grace," Maggie began. "Have you had a chance to review your predecessor's recent notes concerning the druidic sect to the south?"

"That was my first order of business, as it happens," the duke replied. "Ah, you're that Margaret Fairweather then," he added, drawing a faint smile from Maggie at the recognition, which vanished immediately as the duke continued speaking. "Your former associates have been attacking our patrols south of the city, though I've managed to keep that news from spreading, thus far."

"How many casualties?" Aiden asked, crestfallen to hear that they were too late to avoid a peaceful solution.

"Nine men and women," Sothby replied stiffly, clearly upset at the news. "But there's more than that — last night, they began striking at the wall itself, undermining the foundations by moving the earth from underneath. Within a day or two, those walls are going to come down and I won't be able to keep the lid on this little war any longer."

"Things have progressed faster than I had hoped," Maggie surmised. "Have you spoken to a man named Bowen recently? The last I heard, Duke Markham was speaking to him about coming to some sort of arrangement."

"Yes, I have met him," Sothby replied ominously. "Such damnable arrogance! He demanded the population of the city leave at once, so that he and his traitorous associates could 'return it to its natural state'. I threw the man into the street on his britches, wot."

"I think I have an idea why things have escalated recently," Aiden drawled.

"It is not my place to surrender His Majesty's lands to a bunch of savages, sir!" the Duke bristled. "Even if I had the authority, I would rather fight them all by myself than capitulate."

"My associates and I are going into Feybourne to see if we can put a stop to this before things fly out of control," Maggie advised. "Please don't do anything rash until you hear from me again."

"As I understand it, you were cast out of their order in disgrace," the duke remarked. "How do you plan to negotiate with those who spurned you?"

"With difficulty, I admit," Maggie conceded. "But if you pull back your patrols and keep a low profile, I can speak for you in this matter. If they think I have the power to give them what they want, they'll be more willing to talk."

"Are you two gentlemen to be her bodyguards in this affair?" Sothby asked.

"After a fashion, yes," Sir William replied hesitantly. "There is also a third individual who seems to have been waylaid en route to the palace, but we are actually here on an unrelated matter that will take us into Feybourne. Bringing peace to the area is in our best interest."

"What could be so important that you would walk into a dangerous place like Feybourne?"

"We are looking to retrieve a relic of some importance to the Crown," Aiden explained, keeping the details to himself.

"A relic from Feybourne you say?" Sothby asked, leaning back thoughtfully in his chair. "Do you know what you are looking for, and where to find it?"

"Only in a general sort of way," Aiden admitted.

"It's curious that you mention this now, Mister Wainwright, as there is an old associate of mine who takes residence here in Amalis, a man by the name of Alain Dufort. Your blank expression tells me you've never heard the name, but he is a renowned explorer and has a fine collection of relics, both mystical and mundane here in the city. He has travelled through Feybourne many times in the past, and even managed to retrieve a few items of interest along the way."

"I'd very much like to meet this man," Aiden said with barely concealed excitement. There was a slim chance that Alain might have recovered the sceptre already, though something about the duke's manner told him something was wrong.

"Unfortunately, he vanished from his home two days ago," Sothby replied soberly. "I have only had time to conduct a brief search of his house, yet he is quite clearly no longer there. No signs of forced entry were discovered — no blood or damage to the house itself... he simply vanished, which leads me to believe that our friends to the south might have taken him captive somehow, through unconventional means."

"That doesn't sound likely, to be honest," Maggie mused. "I suppose we could take a look at his house though. I have experience investigating things like this, and if the sect did take him, I'll know."

"Your offer is intriguing," Sothby replied, leaning forward. "Indeed, it has occurred to me that Alain could be somehow responsible for escalating this situation to the point of war, so if you are able to find him it would be of benefit to all of us. Especially Alain himself, of course."

"Is his house far from here?" Aiden hedged. "We've travelled long and hard already this day."

"It lies but a short walk from here, to the western side of the palace," Sothby explained. "I'll have one of my men take you immediately, if you're in agreement." Aiden looked at the other two, who voiced no objection.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to spend half an hour going over the place," he conceded.

"Smashing," Sothby declared, standing and smoothing out his blue longcoat. "If any new information comes to light, don't hesitate to bring it straight to my attention. I expect to be working here long into the night, more's the pity. This way, if you please." The duke escorted them down the hallway to the front door, which was opened by one of the guards. The relative warmth afforded by the walls dissipated almost instantly by a cold wind, carrying with it the smell of smoke.

The two guards who were unlucky enough to be assigned the watch outside the doors that evening puffed on cigars, and standing with them was Ronan, hunched into his longcoat against the wind.

"You there — escort these people to Dufort's house and permit them entry," the Duke instructed. "And stop smoking those abominable things while on duty!"

"Sorry, Your Grace," the guard in question grumbled, dropping his cigar to the ground and grinding it into the stone.

"That's more like it. Now, step to it gentlemen. Good luck in your search, Miss Fairweather."

"We'll be in touch," she replied professionally. "Why are you standing around out here?" she asked of Ronan.

"They didn't believe me when I said I was with your group," he shrugged.

"Well... just look at him," one of the guards complained. "No offence, mate, but you look like a shifty bastard."

"I get that a lot," Ronan admitted.

"Alright, well if you gents — and lady — would care to follow me, I'll show you this bloke's house and you can do whatever it is the duke wants you to." Without waiting for a reply, the guard headed down the steps and led them around the side of the hall. The sun had set during the course of their meeting, and oil lanterns hanging from poles along the streets provided dim light, further reduced by the continuing poor weather.

"So, what's going on?" Ronan asked as the travelled. Aiden brought him up to speed on the plight of Alain, and his possible connection to the druids of Feybourne.

Magnificent houses lined the streets, clearly part of the wealthier section of the city. It was to one of these houses a short walk from city hall that the guard led them, a large brick house with a high wooden fence around it. The gate opened at a light touch from the guard, and a short path through the snow led to the front door of Alain's home.

"He's done well for himself," Sir William said as they walked to the door.

"I wonder how much of this was paid for by 'recovered wealth'," Ronan remarked, "and how I'd go about getting in on that racket." The guardsman spent a moment unlocking the solid oak door with a key, and then opened it to reveal a large, dark space beyond.

"Well, there it is," the guard sighed. "Fat lot of good all that money did for the man in the end, eh?"

"You're that certain he's dead?" Aiden asked, peering inside but unable to see anything beyond a few dark shapes.

"We're not really sure what happened," the guard shrugged. "We found a half-eaten meal upstairs in his workshop, so whatever happened here was abrupt and bloodless. I need to get back to my post, so I'll leave you to it. Good hunting, folks." After the guard closed the gate on his way out, Aiden conjured a light on his right glove, and stepped inside the house.

The darkness receded as he walked through the foyer and into a large open space, furnished with plush chairs and fine carpets. A gaping fireplace lay cold and still, and a deathly quiet hung in the air. Ronan was the last to enter, closing the door behind him. Maggie walked to a small table near the fireplace and picked up a lantern, using flint and steel to light it before beginning to search the room.

The house was meticulously neat, with strange statuettes perched on tables and mantelpieces here and there. Several works of art lined the walls, including a portrait of a patrician-looking man in ancient clothing, probably dating back more than half a century. In fact, everything he saw here, with the exception of some of the furniture was from antiquity.

"There's no way this chap is married," Maggie remarked, looking at the odd collection. "It's like a shrine dedicated to himself."

"I'm going to check his workshop upstairs," Aiden said, striding towards the narrow staircase across the room. "Yell out if you find anything."

"Whatever happened to him didn't occur in here," Maggie replied.

"And nobody tried to steal anything, either," Ronan added. "These statues aren't exactly made of gold, but they have to be worth something to someone. They're small enough to put into a sack, so whoever came to get him didn't care about money."

"Perhaps the duke was right," Sir William remarked. "The motivation was clearly personal."

"Might as well move this upstairs then," Ronan said.

"You go ahead, I want to check the kitchen and any other rooms down here just to be sure," Maggie instructed as Ronan and the knight followed Aiden to the next floor.

The top floor of the house was very small, and appeared to be an extension built onto the original structure. Only two doors led off from the short hallway at the top of the stairs, both of them open. Peering inside the first door revealed a bedroom with clothing strewn over the floor, and the rest of the room wasn't much better.

"I have the distinct impression this mess wasn't the result of an intensive search," Sir William said suspiciously.

"Reminds me of my place before I joined the navy," Ronan chuckled, stepping inside to search under the clothing in the hope of finding a clue. Aiden manoeuvred his glove to provide optimal light for the search, but after five minutes Ronan shrugged and gave up.

"It's like the duke said," Sir William nodded sagely, "disappeared without a trace."

"There's still the workshop to check, but I'll admit things aren't looking good for Mister Dufort," Aiden replied, moving into the workshop while trying to hide his elation at what he saw within. If he was to ever have his own place, he'd want a room just like this.

Large desks lined two of the walls, with the third completely covered from ceiling to floor with books, arrayed on an extensive series of shelves. A quick shift of his vision revealed several items pulsing with arcane power on one of the desks, so he stepped in for a closer look. Various amulets, rings and gemstones were clearly empowered in some fashion, and a few arcane scrolls lay upon the desk next to an old book. Next to it was a plate of half-eaten food, Alain's last meal before his disappearance.

"What's this on the floor?" Maggie asked, startling Aiden from his reverie with her sudden arrival. Turning to see what she was pointing at, he was intrigued to find a scorch mark on the floor, roughly a yard in diameter.

"I hadn't noticed that," he murmured as Ronan knelt down for a closer look.

"Some investigators you are," Maggie remarked. "You walked right over the top of it."

"I take it the kitchen was empty, too?" Aiden asked, attempting to change the subject.

"Just some basic food, no signs of any foul play," Maggie replied, walking over to the desk for a closer look. She had to stand on the tips of her toes to see anything, and immediately set her eyes on the open book.

"What was he reading as he ate his last meal?" she asked.

"I was just about to check that when you came in," Aiden replied a little defensively. "It's an arcane work, as there are various runes and phrases that seem to invoke something, the exact nature of which I am unable to determine." He sat at the chair and scanned the page, mouthing out words as he saw them.

As he reached the bottom of the page, he was suddenly blinded by a flash of brilliant light, and reflexively covered his eyes. His companions cried out in shock at the sudden brightness, and Aiden fell as the chair beneath him vanished, and a deafening roar enveloped them, drowning out their screams of terror.

Chapter Five

"At least one of us is excited about tomorrow," Pacian drawled as he watched Valennia practice with her two-handed battle scythe. She whirled and cut at the air against imaginary enemies, none of whom seemed to be providing her with a challenge. Taken from one of the dark priests they had recently fought in the senate, the weapon itself was a nasty looking thing, with a long, curving blade that only vaguely resembled the farming implement it had originated from.

Pacian pondered the evening's events as he lay sprawled upon the plush double bed of the diplomatic suite. As official representatives of Aielund, they qualified for the finest accommodation, and the spacious, well-appointed room was a pleasant change from the usual inn rooms they had frequented. This was all well and good for the ladies, who would be making full use of the suite during their brief stay, but Pacian was relegated to one of the smaller inn rooms.

The meeting with the chamberlain had not gone well. Sayana had taken the time to detail the dragon's recent assault on Culdeny. Unfortunately, she knew nothing of diplomacy and if anything, her strident diatribe reinforced their host's opinions. Nellise struggled to regain control of the conversation and implored the dwarves of Stonegaard to reconsider the impending battle, but the chamberlain would have none of it.

In the end, he would not offer any aid on their quest to locate the sceptre unless they, representing Aielund, joined in the fight. The fine meal and accommodation they were given seemed like the last comforts given to prisoners facing the noose. At least Pacian was able to enjoy it for a while, for he was a man used to living in the moment.

Nellise sat at a nearby table, brushing her silken blond hair after enjoying a long bath. There was a serenity about her that reminded Pacian of the first few days they had journeyed together, before their troubles set in. He found himself gazing at her unconsciously, though the ladies were too wrapped up in their own thoughts to notice. Valennia finally finished her practice session and sheathing the scythe, then mopped her brow with a damp cloth.

"I may require help carrying the beast's head back here afterwards," she remarked casually, sitting down on the bed. "Do you think the short ones would allow me to take one of their wagons?"

"I think you're getting ahead of yourself a little," Pacian advised cynically. "The dwarves will need all their wagons to carry our charred corpses."

"I don't think that's very likely," Nellise chastised him in mid-brush.

"Isn't it?" Sayana asked, sitting up from the other side of the bed. "If Azurefang is sitting in the middle of the highway, then we'll be exposed for miles in either direction. Once we make our presence known, she won't stop until we're dead."

"You underestimate our forces, sister," Valennia assured her confidently. "A full company of warriors, many armed with crossbows and larger siege weapons. I only hope this dragon doesn't fall before I have my chance to stand before it and drive my weapon through its skull."

"I don't think that's very likely either," Nellise sighed.

"Well, you seem to have it all figured out," Pacian snapped, finding her calm demeanour irritating. "What do you think is going to happen?"

"Do you believe we showed up here, right before they head out to fight this monster, by accident?" she replied, looking Pacian through the mirror.

"Are you saying God sent you here to do something?" Pacian asked, trying to remain respectful but failing to keep the mockery out of his voice.

"I'm saying God sent us here to save them," Nellise corrected. "I don't know how or why, but our presence here is important. We will accompany them tomorrow morning when they march and do what we can to help."

"How will we know when that is?" Sayana asked.

"We'll know," Nellise murmured, continuing to calmly brush her hair.

* * *

Pacian was rudely awakened before dawn by a heavy-set dwarven soldier, who stomped through the halls of the inn without a care for its sleeping patrons. Typically a late-riser, Pacian glared at the loud warrior through bleary eyes. If Nellise was right, the dwarven army was about to have a very bad day.

After getting dressed, Pacian met up with the ladies in the common room of the Rockslide Inn. Heavy drapes covered up the large windows to keep in as much heat as possible from the three fires that roared away even at this early hour.

Within the hour, Pacian and the ladies found themselves outside the entrance to the under city as a weak sun began to peek over the horizon. They stood amongst the company of dwarven soldiers that would soon embark upon their quest to slay a dragon — one hundred trained warriors clad in steel and armed to the teeth.

Despite his earlier pessimism, Pacian secretly hoped they would succeed. Not because it would benefit either of the Kingdoms, but because he hated bullies and liked to see them fall, especially big ones who thought themselves undefeatable.

"Can you see the tension on their faces?" Sayana murmured to them as she glanced around. Pacian hadn't been paying attention to the dwarves' faces, which were mostly obscured by thick beards and plated helms. In spite of this, he couldn't sense any sort of fear in their ranks, indeed many of them were boisterously clapping each other on the back, like they'd already won.

"They seem pretty confident to me," Pacian remarked, taking special note of the number of crossbows, axes, spears and other weapons they were carrying.

"Precisely my point," Sayana retorted, rubbing her gloved hands together for warmth. "They're deluding themselves if they think this is going to be easy."

"They need only keep it busy while I get close enough to chop off its head," Valennia assured them. Pacian raised an eyebrow at her continuing bravado, but said nothing as the leader of the contingent, an older dwarf resplendent in his heavy armour, began addressing the troops at the front of the column. He was speaking in his native language, but his sweeping, emphatic gestures left no doubt as to his meaning — they were going to win this fight, and drink in glory afterward.

"That's Captain MacTavish," Nellise whispered to them. "One of the king's cousins, and from what I've heard, a decent commander."

"Has he had much dragon slaying experience?" Pacian asked cynically.

"Nobody does," Nellise reminded him.

"Then it doesn't really count for much, does it?" On an impulse, Pacian checked the surrounding soldiers once more and noticed they seemed to be quite young, by dwarfish standards. He couldn't guess as to their experience, yet their eagerness to face the dragon led Pacian to believe they might be a little on the green side.

A number of dwarven women were watching their menfolk prepare to leave, and amongst them he spotted the familiar form of Sloane MacAliese, who stood alongside a venerable dwarf. She seemed to be gesturing specifically at Pacian, but before he could figure out why, the column of dwarves started marching purposefully forward and she was lost in the crowd.

Although heavily clothed in a thick winter cloak, Pacian was keenly aware of the cold as they started to make their way through the mountains. The highway ran from Fairloch to Stonegaard and continued on until it reached Culdeny, far to the west. Somewhere between here and there lurked their target, one of the most dangerous creatures in the known world. One of the dwarven sergeants, marching close to Pacian, took an interest in his choice of weapons.

"Are ya plannin' t' pick its teeth with those dainty little things?" he asked in heavily accented Aielish, pointing at Pacian's daggers. Several nearby dwarves laughed at this comment with their deep, rumbling baritones.

"My plan is to stay as far away from the dragon as I can, and watch the rest of you burn to death," he replied casually, drawing stern looks from his audience.

"So yer not plannin' to actually help in t' fight?"

"I'll tell you what," Pacian confided, moving in closer as they marched. "If I see you bleeding to death nearby, I'll drag you to safety, okay?"

"And t' think, me and mine are riskin' our backsides for people like you," the dwarven warrior lamented.

"If it's any consolation, that tall woman over there is planning to charge right in," Pacian said, point to where Valennia was strolling along. "So, feel free to follow her in and die horribly, if you like." The dwarves looked at each other and silently agreed to ignore him for the rest of the day, which was fine by Pacian.

He lapsed into a brooding silence as the column marched along the highway, their altitude steadily increasing over the next few hours. The weather held good as the highway meandered along through the peaks, and it wasn't until the sun started to set at the end of the day that they made camp at the top of a picturesque valley overlooking a frozen river.

Pacian sighed when he saw a large, clear area of ground where they were setting up tents and campfires for the night, and kept any remarks about the lack of an inn to himself. If he survived the next day, there might be a business opportunity setting up some inns along this desolate yet important highway.

Sayana drew envious looks from nearby dwarves after she set up wood for a fire and set it alight with her sorcery, providing them with a blazing fire in mere moments. As the sun dipped beneath the horizon and the cold wind started to pick up, the faint sound of distant singing could be heard.

"Are you hearing what I'm hearing?" Pacian asked, unsure if his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Yes, you're not imagining that," Nellise assured him as she started to prepare their meal. "You're hearing the chanting ascetics of the Keepers of the Light. Their monastery is in the Valley of Silence, not far from here."

"Oh, them," Pacian remarked, recalling mention of the ultra-devout priests recently. "From what I've heard, they didn't really strike me as the type that liked to sing."

"Every night after their evening meal, they chant the code of their order," Nellise explained. "It's in Olde Aielish, so you probably won't understand it, but it reinforces the strict oaths they have taken in penance for past actions." Pacian detected an odd note to her voice, and suspected she was considering joining the reclusive priests. He was certain they took oaths of celibacy, which did not fit well into his plans to make Nellise fall in love with him and then bed her, not necessarily in that order.

"You seem to know something about them," Pacian pointed out. "Is your interest professional or personal?"

"If you're asking whether I'd consider joining them... I haven't ruled it out," she replied hesitantly.

"See, now why would you even consider doing something like that?" Pacian protested. "You've done nothing you need to atone for, and you seem to have recovered from your recent trauma quite nicely."

"That's presumptuous," Nellise replied flatly, turning to face him. "I struggle with the memories of that night every waking moment, but I won't let it stop me living my life."

"And you're doing a damn fine job of it," Pacian offered with a smooth grin. "You're an inspiration, you know that?"

"If I inspire you to stop being a murderous cad, then I suppose it's all been worthwhile," she remarked, and Pacian felt himself physically flinch from her words. Valennia interrupted before he could reply, however.

"What are you two talking about?" she asked, hands on her hips. "You speak of past events I know nothing about. We are comrades now, are we not? Tell me of these things."

"Perhaps another time," Nellise answered quietly, focusing on preparing their meal over the blazing fire. Pacian sensed the topic was closed, so he wrapped himself tightly in a winter blanket and set himself up next to the fire for the evening. The chanting continued for another ten minutes or so and then ceased, but during that time, staring up at the clear evening sky filled with stars, Pacian felt a sense of contentment he'd rarely experienced in his life.

* * *

The sense of confidence permeating the small army the previous day had evaporated with the rising of the sun, replaced by a quiet foreboding as the reality of what they were about to attempt settled in. Soldiers doused cooking fires and checked their weapons in preparation for the fight, while Valennia warmed up with a quick practice session.

Pacian knew that as soon as they set out from camp, the possibility of running into the dragon grew with each passing hour. The captain knew this too, judging by the number of scouts he sent ahead. The road ahead was mired in fog, and the stillness of the air was broken only by the clink of metal and the crunch of boots in the snow underfoot.

Nellise held her repeating crossbow at the ready as they crossed over the frozen river, along with fifty dwarven archers with almost identical weapons. Having seen the crossbow at work, Pacian knew just how deadly this force would be if the dragon came into view for more than a few seconds, and he dared to hope that they might actually prevail.

Once past the river, the road ascended along the western side of the valley, until the sounds of the ocean crashing against the northern cliffs could be heard in the distance. Hours had passed without any sign of the monster, yet as they passed by ruined wagons half-covered in snow, the tension continued to build within their ranks.

Just after their noon meal break, Captain MacTavish called for a halt and instructed his engineers to set up the siege engines in the middle of the road. Pacian's eagle eyes spotted one of the dwarven scouts rushing down the road toward them, waving one hand in a pre-arranged signal. Pacian's pulse immediately quickened — the dragon had been sighted.

The tension amongst the army gave way to a flurry of action as sergeants organised their squads into loose formations and weapons were readied. Pacian resisted the urge to draw his daggers, as if the situation arose where he had to use them, he was probably already doomed.

Looking around for places to hide, Pacian noticed a towering hill to their left, and a steep drop down to the sea a few dozen yards to their right. It was possible the captain felt this was a good position to fight a dragon, but to Pacian, it looked like the perfect place for an ambush.

"I will join the vanguard," Valennia declared, twirling her scythe in preparation. "Find a place to make yourselves useful, and we will bring this monster low." She strode off towards the front of the company and was welcomed by the heavily armoured warriors of the van.

"I do not understand," Sayana wondered aloud, drawing her axe. "Are we holding position here, or moving forward?"

"Half o' the force will move forward and get her attention," a nearby sergeant replied, the same person who saw fit to question Pacian's weapons when they'd started out from Stonegaard. "When they get 'er angry, they'll pull back to this line and we'll hit 'er with everythin' we got."

"Your captain does understand that dragons can fly, right?" Pacian asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Aye, and when she comes into view, she's going to get a snout full of hurt," the dwarf chuckled, fitting a cartridge to his repeater and smacking it into place.

"Time to get ready I suppose," Pacian muttered, speaking to Nellise. She was the tiny haloed sword of Kylaris with her eyes closed as she whispered her prayers. Glancing to his right, it was obvious Sayana was involved in her own ritual, moving her arms in curious rhythms as layer after layer of glowing power began to suffuse her being.

"Maybe I'll just go and see what the captain's found out," he said to himself, feeling less than useful in the circumstances. Leaving the women to prepare, Pacian crept through the ranks of his allies until he stood next to Captain MacTavish, who was speaking to the returned scout at the head of the column.

"It could'na been anything else," the unbearded scout was saying in Aielish. "She was laying right in the middle o' the road, as big as a house. Fog be damned, sir, the silhouette of a dragon is pretty distinctive."

"And yer certain ya weren't spotted?" the captain asked shrewdly.

"I think she's asleep, sir," the scout informed him. "She was barely movin', and didn't react to me presence."

"She's in for a bit of a shock when our lads show up, then," the captain remarked, drawing rumbling laughter from his nearby troops. "All right, this is how it's gonna go down. First Sergeant MacIntosh, take three squads and get her attention—"

But you already have my attention, captain, a clear, powerful, feminine voice interrupted. Pacian — along with everyone else — whirled around to see who was speaking, but the voice seemed to be coming from nowhere. It has been so lonely for me out here by myself, the smooth voice mocked.

"Who is saying that?" the captain barked with barely disguised trepidation.

I am the spirit of the wind and the earth, and I dance and sing to the black one's gold, the voice replied enigmatically. A feeling of dread washed over Pacian as a familiar sound could be heard on the wind — the sound of dragon wings beating the air.

"She's coming," Pacian cried out, just as a dark, winged silhouette drifted above the hill to their left. Time seemed to slow down as he heard a tremendous intake of breath, followed by a tongue of blue flame exploding into the hillside. Chaos erupted in the ranks of the dwarves as discipline was discarded in favour of the more appropriate reaction, panic.

Despite the sudden display of power, the flames had not come near any of the soldiers as the dragon soared only fifty feet off the ground. Some of the archers had the presence of mind to aim and shoot at the monster, while the engineers struggled to bring their ballistae to bear on the rapidly moving target.

"Shoot at will!" the captain bellowed, attempting to regain control of his force. A dull rumbling sound erupted from the hill, silencing the small army instantly and revealing the dragon's true plan. An avalanche of ice, snow and rock, set loose by the heat of her flames tumbled down the hillside toward them.

If the captain was giving any orders, his words were drowned out by the thunderous roar of the avalanche as it thundered into their ranks at the rear of the column, sweeping them away effortlessly and burying the wagons with their siege weapons. Pacian's, words were lost in the cacophony as he realised Nellise and Sayana were in amongst the archers who were struck. He looked on in surprise as a moment later, the sorceress, holding tightly onto Nellise, shot upwards through the snow and rock to clear the rubble that crashed into the rest of the army.

The avalanche, pushed onward by ever more snow from behind, poured over the edge of the cliff, stifling the screams of those who had survived the initial impact, as they were thrown to their doom on the rocks far below. Azurefang glided into the fog once more, leaving the remnants of the army to pick up the pieces before her inevitable return.

"To me!" Captain MacTavish roared as the avalanche began to subside, calling those that still stood to his side. Slowly, the stunned force began to respond, while Pacian watched as Sayana and Nellise drifted gently back to earth.

"We must bring it to the ground or we will have no chance to strike back!" Valennia yelled to the Captain.

"The archers were supposed to do that, and they're all but gone!" MacTavish shot back. "We need to fall back and regroup."

"The road is blocked, Captain," Nellise pointed out, dusting the snow and rock from her robe. Around her, two dozen dwarven soldiers gathered, clutching at their weapons with fear in their eyes. Of the remaining force, only half a dozen carried crossbows, and the chances of them forcing the dragon to the ground were slim. More than that, without the rest of the army to attack her, bringing Azurefang down to ground level would only make it easier for her to eat them.

"I can get her attention," Sayana declared quietly, pulling out her shining vythiric axe. She ran its edge between her thumb and index finger, leaving a trail of frosted ice along the head of the axe.

"What exactly are you planning to do?" Nellise asked quietly as the captain gave out orders to the rest of his soldiers. In the distance, the sound of the dragon's beating wings grew louder once more.

"I'm going to hit her really hard with my axe, and then dive for cover," Sayana confided.

"I like this plan," Pacian said with mock enthusiasm. "I think I'll just skip the first bit and dive for cover if it's all the same to you."

I have something to confess, came the dragon's voice into their minds once more, silencing everyone present. I'm not really a spirit of air and earth and I never dance. It was a lie. I hope you can forgive me for being untruthful, but be quick about it as I'm going to kill you very soon.

"She's stark raving mad," Pacian muttered in disbelief as the grey silhouette of the mighty creature came into view overhead. Without hesitation, Sayana leapt straight upwards into the sky, using her levitation powers to soar at least fifty feet in the air, whereupon she drew back her arms and threw the shining axe straight at the immense bulk of the dragon as it glided past.

The axe glinted in the sunlight as it flew straight and true, whirling through the air to strike the side of the monster. The roar that came forth from her gaping maw echoed across the mountains, and with a sweep of her mighty wings she suddenly altered her course.

Sayana reached out one hand and the axe extracted itself from the side of the dragon, Flying back into her waiting grasp to be thrown once more, this time at the tail.
The axe flew high this time, and Sayana was quick to draw it back to her before it disappeared into the mists. Azurefang pivoted in the air and with one beat of her immense wings, came straight at Sayana. As soon as the axe was back in her hand, the sorceress started to fall through the air, plunging down with the dragon altering course in pursuit. As she emerged from the mists above, Pacian managed to get the first proper look at Azurefang in all her terrifying glory.

Her scaly hide was blue in colour, the rich blue of the sky. Immense teeth three feet long lined her gaping mouth, and the dragon's head was easily twenty feet in length. A long, serpentine neck snaked down to the bulk of her body, which was far more lithe and agile than Pacian had assumed. But even with all of this, the thing that most caught his attention was her eyes, which blazed with unimaginable fury and seemed to pierce his soul with their intensity, promising terrible and certain death.

The sight of the diving dragon was too much for Pacian who, along with a large number of the dwarven soldiers, broke ranks and ran. Only Captain MacTavish held his ground, bellowing order to his army to hold the line. Pacian caught a glimpse of Sayana plunging into the mounds of snow from the avalanche, just as the dragon snapped its jaws shut. It missed the cunning sorceress, but had been so intent on catching her that it ploughed into the uneven earth of the avalanche and tumbled to a stop.

The dragon thrashed about as she sought to regain her footing, having sunk too deep into the snowdrift to flap her wings. The dwarves that had bolted at the sight of her plunging through the skies skidded to a halt at the sight of the momentarily helpless creature. Valennia, still standing her ground, hesitated for a moment longer before making her intentions known.

"Charge!" she cried as she bolted in, her weapon poised to strike. The dwarven soldiers — including their captain — followed her in with their guttural war cries echoing across the mountains. Azurefang hadn't fully extricated herself from the snow when the warriors fell upon her, chopping and stabbing at her scaled hide with a vengeance. She was far from defenceless, however.

The dragon swatted aside two soldiers with one of her rear claws, and snatched up another hapless soldier in her jaws, crushing him to death in an instant. Her fangs dripping with blood, she shrugged off their attacks and used her wings to bat the dwarves aside with ease, leaving an ever-increasing pile of broken bodies strewn over the battlefield.

Valennia tried to cut through the thick hide with her scythe, but found her weapon was turned away more than once. Her fury rising, the akoran warrior spun the weapon around and leaped into the air, bringing the point down upon the dragon's winged claw and plunging straight through it, into the earth. Azurefang bellowed, almost deafening Pacian who stood transfixed by the battle taking place twenty yards away.

Her triumph was short-lived, as Valennia was bashed with the dragon's other claw, sending her sprawling across the ground and into a pile of snow. The dragon's eyes glowed with insane rage, her wrath was terrible to behold as she bit and clawed at the rapidly diminishing force before her.

During this time, Captain MacTavish had been assembling his remaining archers, including Nellise, who finally brought their crossbows to bear. At this range, the weapons were more than capable of piercing the dragon's armoured hide. The captain roared for his men to continue pressing their advantage, for if she took to the skies once more, they were surely doomed.

"Nel, look out!" Pacian cried as he saw the dragon start to draw in a chest full of air. He bolted for Nellise, leaping at her just as blue flames burst forth from the dragon's maw. Pacian crashed into the ground with Nellise, his back on fire as they barely managed to avoid the worst of the flames. He immediately began rolling around on the snow to douse his clothing.

Captain MacTavish and his archers did not fare so well however, and only the charred remains of their bones were visible, lying upon bare rock glowing red from the intense heat and billowing clouds of steam. Azurefang pulled herself out of the snow and flapped her wings, charging off the edge of the cliff and returning to the skies once more.

Pacian raised himself off the ground and took in the scene of devastation before them. Of the warriors who had charged in with Valennia, only half a dozen still stood. Everyone else was either dead or grievously wounded, and there was no way they were going to be able to finish off the dragon in this condition.

"We need to get everyone out of here if we want to continue drawing breath," Pacian surmised, speaking to Nellise. "That bitch is going to swing back here in a minute or two and bathe us all in fire."

"No argument here," Nellise replied. "Thanks for saving me, by the way."

"Thank me later," Pacian growled. "Help out the survivors while I find a way out." Nellise nodded and hurried over to check on the wounded, while Pacian turned his attention to the immense snowdrift that blocked the highway. The quickest way through would be to melt it, but it was unlikely that Azurefang would be willing to oblige any requests. They did, however, have someone at their disposal that could handle the task.

"Sy! Are you still alive?" Pacian yelled at the snowdrift, in the direction he last saw her as the sorceress plummeted into the ground.

"I'm okay," came the muffled reply from nearby. Pacian moved in closer, unsure of her exact location until steam started rising from the snowdrift. Apparently, he hadn't been the only one to think of this idea.

"Clear a path for us through this snow," he yelled. "We're getting out of here."

"Don't bother with the rest of us," came a faint, broken voice from near Pacian's feet. "Get yerselves out of here afore she comes back." Clearing aside some of the snow and detritus, Pacian saw a dwarven sergeant lying on the ground, clearly in pain.

"Hold tight, sarge," Pacian assured him, "we're getting everyone out of here, okay? What did the captain call you earlier? MacIntosh?" He was surprised a moment later when a rough hand reached up and grasped his arm tightly.

"That's Sergeant MacIntosh to you," he grated, "and don't be daft — ye'll all die if ya don't get out of here right now."

"You're lucky I don't take orders from you," Pacian muttered, pulling the dwarf's hand off his arm. From nearby, the light of Nellise's crystal washed over them, and Pacian guessed it should be enough to get the sergeant back on his feet. Torrents of steam billowed from the snowdrift as Sayana burned her way through, but it was a slow process — they were going to need more time.

"When that path is open, grab as many of your people as you can and get out of here," Pacian quickly instructed the sergeant. "I'm going to keep her busy for a few minutes." The look of incredulity on MacIntosh's face reflected his own disbelief as those words came out of his mouth, but he knew they didn't have any choice. The sound of the dragon's wings was growing louder with each passing moment, and he was the only one who didn't have something better to do.

"Nel, get them out of here as soon as the path opens up," Pacian called to her as he strode over towards the ground to her crossbow. "I'm going to borrow this for a minute." It had been a few years since he'd bothered to use a crossbow, as it was very hard to hide something that big under his coat. In this case, his throwing knives wouldn't be much good against the hide of a dragon, so he levelled the repeater at the sky and swallowed loudly, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

Pacian slowly moved away from the rest of the group while keeping his sight aimed along the length of the crossbow. Although he hadn't thought of a plan, an opportunity usually presented itself at some point. The sound of wings beating through the air became louder and louder, and his heart leaped into his throat as soon as he spied the silhouette of the dragon bearing down on them.

Despite his lack of recent experience, Pacian was confident he could hit something as large as a dragon, provided it came close enough. His instinct to run was growing with each passing second, and as the dragon emerged from the fog in all its terrifying beauty, it was all Pacian could do to keep standing.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Nellise guiding the wounded towards a large gap that was opening in the snow, and hesitated. There was something about her presence that was both reassuring and inspiring, and for once, Pacian stood his ground and met the oncoming horror with an uncommon calm.

Azurefang was heading straight for the survivors of her previous attack, and almost seemed to be ignoring Pacian altogether. Aiming just ahead of the dragon's path, Pacian pulled the trigger and felt the thrum of the weapon as it sent an enchanted bolt careening through the air towards its target. His aim was true, and the air rippled from the sonic blast upon its flank which had the desired effect of distracting the monster.

Pulling back on the lever, Pacian dropped another bolt into place and let fly, striking the dragon on its sleek underbelly, this time drawing a dull roar from the beast as she pivoted in the air and headed directly for him. The immense creature filled his vision as it descended upon him, wings pulled back into a dive.

With its head squarely in his sights, Pacian dropped another bolt into place — with one swift shot, he could strike her in the head and kill the damn thing. But when he pulled the trigger, nothing happened and he groaned silently as he realised the cartridge was empty.

A sudden burst of flame erupted in front of him and Pacian instinctively dove to one side, as the blue flames scorched the earth and melted snow where he had been standing a moment before. He felt a rush of air as the dragon soared past, far too close for comfort, and slung the useless crossbow around his back.

You scatter to the winds like so many mice... in the wind, Azurefang said in his mind. Mice don't have wings, so why do they think they can fly?

"That doesn't even make sense!" Pacian yelled back at the insane dragon as she slowly turned around for another pass. "You're completely mad, and I bet you couldn't even kill me if you tried, you stupid bitch!"

You are very loud, mouse, and insulting. But I accept your challenge, the dragon replied casually.

Pacian glanced over to the others and saw that Nellise was helping a badly wounded Valennia limp through the narrow passageway Sayana had created, followed by a dozen dwarves carrying their wounded comrades.

The dragon landed on the ground, creating a small hurricane as her giant wings buffeted the snow. With her wings folded, her head snaked forward and those immense teeth came at Pacian with terrifying speed. He had anticipated this and was already in motion, tumbling away from danger in a fast cartwheel as the gaping, fang-toothed mouth snapped after him.

As soon as he was on his feet once more, Pacian sprinted forward, moving in under the reach of her head and dodging to one side as the expected claw attack came at him from the left.

Pacian didn't stop for a second or allow himself to think — he was operating on pure instinct. As he dashed past, he noticed several crossbow bolts protruding from her underbelly. He reached over and wrenched one of them around, drawing a bellowing roar from Azurefang as the bolt opened up her wound even further. A feeling of rage settled in as Pacian scrambled around, a familiar and welcome sensation that honed his senses and pushed him to his limits.

As the dragon tried to manoeuvre around to attack him, Pacian used her bulk as cover as he laboured for each breath. He had always been a sprinter and didn't have the endurance to keep running over long distances, a fact that Aiden had always been more than happy to exploit. He did have a secret weapon however — the magical ring he wore.

Recalling exactly how Aiden had spoken it, he said the command word and held out his palm, as if pushing something over. The dragon was slugged in the underbelly hard enough to force the wind from her lungs.

From all of her combined wounds, Azurefang was definitely bleeding out, but he had a feeling she would still outlast him. His efforts kept her interested, however, and after a quick glance over at the surrounding area, he could see that the rest of his allies had escaped. He stood alone.

Satisfied that he'd done what he could, he resigned himself to eventual death at the blood-covered claws of the dragon. Winded and unable to run any more, Pacian stood there as the dragon positioned herself for the final strike. Before she could even snap her jaw at him, Pacian was unexpectedly knocked off his feet. Small, gloved hands picked him up and looking around, he saw a familiar mop of wild red hair. A moment later, Sayana leapt forward and shot through the air.

Pacian held on to her for dear life as they soared twenty feet over the land, with the dragon looking on in bemusement.

I was wrong... mice can fly, Azurefang lamented as they shot through the air to safety, leaving the wounded dragon to lick her wounds in the icy wilderness.

Chapter Six

Aiden fell through the air for a few yards before slamming into a hard floor, with the others enduring a similar impact. The flash of light subsided, yet it still took a long moment for Aiden's eyes to adjust to the dim conditions. What he saw did not fill him with confidence.

Gone was the cluttered laboratory of Alain Dufort, with its shelves, desks and chairs. Aiden and his companions were in the middle of a large, empty room that tilted at a slight angle. The walls were rife with corrosion and decay, though underneath the dirt he detected a slight metallic sheen. A mournful wind blew past his ears, carrying with it the stench of earth and humidity one would typically find deep underground.

"Where in the name of Kylaris are we?" Sir William breathed, his voice reverberating slightly off the metal walls.

"We're not in Alain's house anymore, that much is certain," Maggie replied cautiously, standing up and dusting off her legs. "Aiden, what have you done?"

"I was reading that passage in the book," he explained. "I must have been mouthing the words aloud without knowing it."

"Oh, that's great," Ronan chided him. "A mysterious book with arcane writings in it, and you go and read it without even a hint of caution."

"Easy now, I'm sure it was an accident," Sir William said, getting back on his feet. "I think it's safe to assume Alain was reading that book when he vanished. He might be around here somewhere." The magic appeared to have transported them to a random location, which Aiden found odd to say the least.

"What's that you're standing on?" Maggie pointed out. Aiden glanced down to see something inscribed upon the floor. Stepping aside, he could see it was an arcane rune carved into the metal floor, nearly five feet across.

"Although it's partially obscured by grime and decay, this is clearly the symbol for 'home'," Aiden explained.

"Who would call a decrepit ruin like this home?" Sir William exclaimed.

"Nobody... now," Aiden replied grimly. "Judging by the amount of decay, this place appears to be centuries old."

"The angle of this floor might suggest some sort of calamity," Sir William added. "We need to find a way out. Can you reverse what you did to get us here?"

"Not without that book," Aiden answered, shaking his head. Ronan reached into his pack and retrieved a torch, which he set about lighting with flint and steel. Aiden ventured to the edges of the room and discovered a doorway at one end. The door itself appeared to have been ripped off its hinges long ago, and a dark passageway beckoned from beyond.

The floor continued to slope downwards as they crept down the hall, the consistency of the angle seeming to indicate the entire building — or whatever it was — was at the same incline. The wind grew in intensity as they walked past other rooms, empty but for the decaying matter upon their floors.

Another passageway branched off to their right as they continued, yet the feeling of the wind on their faces was coming from directly ahead. The sputtering flame on Ronan's torch confirmed this, so they wordlessly pressed on. The corridor ended abruptly only twenty yards further on where they discovered the source of the wind.

"That's a hell of a drop," Ronan remarked as he peered through a breach in the floor, and down into what could only be described as an abyss. The metal of the passage was gouged and torn, revealing the rocky walls of a natural cave inside which the tunnels built. At the edge of their vision, the other side of the passage could be seen across the gaping crevasse, but it was too far to safely jump.

"We're a long way underground," the raelani druid remarked quietly, looking up through the breech to see a complex network of natural caves sprawling above them. Aiden's palms became moist as he considered the unsettling distances above and below them, and he carefully backed into the main hall.

"Let's try the other passage," he advised, "perhaps we'll have better luck down there."

Cobwebs danced in the breeze along the ceiling of the hall, though there was no sign of their spinners. It was as if all life had been extinguished here long ago. The complex reminded Aiden of the tunnels in Akora, and they in turn were similar to the cave he had fallen into half a decade earlier. One day he was going to put all of this together and find out what it all meant.

They passed several empty rooms as they continued on, their doors squeaking back and forth in the breeze. There was no sign that any of them led out of this ancient place, until they came to a closed door that caught their attention.

"Now, what have we here," Aiden murmured, taking in the sight of the corroded metal door inscribed with runes around the edge. Several of the arcane symbols were very familiar to him, who'd encountered them around the laboratory in Ferrumgaard — runes that would incinerate anyone trying to force the door open. This alone told Aiden there was something of value behind this door, but the question remained of how to open it safely.

"Can you tell what all of those squiggly things are?" Ronan asked.

"They're protective runes, designed to keep people like us from entering," Aiden replied absently, still studying the sigils. Unlike the door in Ferrumgaard, this one did not have an obvious trick to circumvent its defences. Pacian could probably find one in a matter of moments, if he was here, Aiden lamented. He'd also probably stab whoever was on the other side as well.

"That doesn't strike me as an exit," Maggie hedged. "Why would they prevent anyone leaving?"

"Maybe this place was a prison?" Ronan wondered. "This far underground it'd be pretty much inescapable."

"I don't think so," Aiden answered. "From what I can tell, this inscription reads like more of a vault than a prison door. Whatever's behind it is probably quite valuable." His train of thought was interrupted by a heavy thump that could be felt through the soles of his boots.

"What was that?" Sir William hissed, drawing his sword and staring down the corridor. Aiden could only hear the breathing of his companions and the subtle, pitched hum of Solas Aingeal echoing in the silence.

"Wait here," Ronan whispered as he handed the torch to Maggie and moved silently into the darkness. "It's safe... I think," came the sailor's call a few moments later. His curiosity getting the better of him, Aiden caught up with Ronan at what appeared to be another, heavier door. Large dents were visible on the blackened surface, and there were heavy locks in place around the perimeter.

"There's something moving around inside," Ronan whispered, pressing his ear against the door.

"These locks suggest it should stay there," Aiden remarked, keeping his distance.

"Are you sure about this place not being a prison?" Ronan chided him quietly, and Aiden was beginning to have second thoughts on that issue. The sound of glass breaking from further down the corridor caught their attention at that moment, so Aiden silently waved the others past the ominous door. They followed Ronan for twenty yards when the sailor discovered another door at the end of the passage. This one was opened a crack, and the flickering light from a candle or torch was visible inside.

Aiden pressed his back against the wall, keeping his light from shining too obviously into the room beyond. Ronan slowly and silently drew his swords, and glanced at Aiden to signal his readiness to head in. Aiden nodded, and then the door was kicked inwards. They burst inside, swords at the ready.

Having little idea of what to expect, he was nevertheless surprised to see a grimy, middle-aged man in expensive, ruined clothes. He was unshaven and holding a tall glass in one hand, raised above his head ready to strike. His eyes were blood-shot and bleary, and evidently reeling in shock from the sudden appearance of the armed group.

"Wait, don't hurt me," he slurred, staggering backwards and dropping the glass onto the hard floor, where it shattered instantly. "Oh bugger, that was the only glass I had, too," he muttered to himself. "Who the devil are you people?"

"Are you Alain Dufort?" Aiden asked as Ronan sheathed his swords and began searching around the large room. The man's eyes lit up at the mention of his name.

"Yes! You came looking for me, thank God," he gushed, steadying himself against the wall as Maggie and Sir William entered. "Quite an odd party of rescuers, if I may say, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers. What led you to my location, sir, and did it take long to dig your way down?"

"We... that is I read from the same book you did, in your workshop back in Amalis," Aiden explained. The look of comprehension dawning on Alain's face was not at all encouraging.

"Well then, lady and gentlemen," he slurred, gesturing expansively to the room before him, "since it seems you have fallen into the same trap as myself, I bid you welcome to your new home. It is also your tomb, for there is no escape from this accursed place." Aiden was faced with the accusing stares from his companions as the reality of their situation began to sink in.

* * *

"You have no idea how hungry I am," Alain said between mouthfuls of food, sometime later. They hadn't restocked since they'd left Fairloch, but the stale bread and cheese seemed like a banquet.

"I think we have some idea," Aiden drawled, watching him go through their meagre supplies faster than he thought possible. They sat on a raised dais across from the doorway, where the remains of some broken and rotted furniture were piled. The room itself was the same as the others, with metal walls corroded from the passing of countless years. Aside from the furniture there was little else to distinguish it from the rest of the complex.

"Help yourselves to some wine, by the way," Alain offered, gesturing across the room at a number of ancient casks sitting on the floor. "I've never tasted anything quite like it. It would have to be centuries old, of course, but whoever made it sealed it properly. It is impeccable. There's no water or food down here, so I threw caution to the wind and drank my fill."

"You're certain there's no way out?" Sir William asked, casually strolling around the edge of the room examining the walls.

"My dear Sir Knight, would I still be here if there was?" Alain replied, sobering up quickly as he ate. "I didn't bring the sort of equipment required to attempt that climb, and who knows if it even leads anywhere? One slip and you're down the bottom of that crevasse."

"What about that door over there?" Aiden inquired, pointing at a large door in the shadows to their right. He had been eyeing it ever since they sat down to eat.

"A dead end, I'm afraid, and those doors you passed on the way here are both locked," Alain responded, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "I've already tried bashing my way through the heavier of the two doors, until something started to bash through from the other side. Don't ask me what, I'm happier not knowing. The other door you speak of is inscribed with—"

"Runes of warding, yes I noticed," Aiden finished, drawing a raised eyebrow from the explorer.

"You are familiar with the arcane?" Alain inquired curiously.

"I've studied a book or two."

"If you are a wizard, you are strangely attired," the explorer observed. "But you are correct Aiden, for that door would be deadly to tamper with."

"I don't even understand how it's supposed to be opened," Aiden remarked.

"Ah, well, that little mystery had me stumped for a while too," Alain sighed, rubbing his temples. "But I think I've figured it out. The entire thing is a ruse."

"Excuse me?"

"Did you see a handle on it?" Alain persisted. "It's covered in so many sigils that there's no way you could even touch it without getting your hand blown off, so I've come to the conclusion that the mechanism to open it is elsewhere. Perhaps a switch or lever, or even an enchanted key of some description. If that's the case, it is entirely possible that whoever had that key took it with them when they left. Or it could be behind the heavier door, I suppose."

"The one with something moving around inside of it?" Ronan asked laconically.

"The very same. I don't know what it is, but vaults have guardians, do they not?"

"The good ones do, yeah," Ronan agreed. "Wait here, I'll go take a look."

"Is that wise?"

"Wiser than waiting around here, starving to death," Ronan called as he disappeared into the darkened hallway.

"A fair point," Alain mumbled, focusing once more on his first meal in days.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Sir William said, striding out the door after him. Alain continued eating while Maggie laid herself down on the floor and took out her green crystal, to continue regenerating her hand.

Aiden idly glanced around and pondered the implications of the similar design to the akoran "caves", since there wasn't much else to do at the moment.

"You know, this place reminds me of another hidden construction I came across in the recent past," Aiden remarked, garnering Alain's attention. "Very similar indeed, though far older than this, judging by the level of decay."

"Something of an explorer, are you?" Alain inquired with a half-smile.

"Not by choice," Aiden shrugged as he chewed on some stale bread.

"Yet you find the nature of this place intriguing, no?"

"How could I not?" Aiden replied wistfully. "I've never heard of any civilisation that constructed underground caves lined with metal walls before, yet this is my third time in such an edifice. I have to wonder who they were, and why they built them."

"You think that's interesting?" Alain hinted with a half-smile, reaching behind him to reveal a metal gauntlet of strange design. "Take a close look at this and tell me what you think." Instantly intrigued, Aiden accepted the gauntlet and immediately noticed its poor condition and alien design. The metal was dark and pock-marked with age, but it seemed solid enough to handle without breaking. His breath caught in his throat when he saw familiar runes etched upon it — the kind he had first seen on the crystal shard he wore around his neck, and then in the cube he had retrieved from Ferrumgaard.

"It's an interesting find," Aiden replied, carefully modulating his voice so as not to betray his excitement. "Obviously off some sort of ancient armour, though I don't recognise these sigils etched upon its surface, do you?"

"This is not the first time I have encountered the language," Alain replied, and he explained further when Aiden gave him an inquisitive look. "My boy, I've seen a lot in my thirty years of adventuring, and this language permeates many places throughout Feydwiir. Nobody I've spoken to can identify it, or knows who it belonged to, unfortunately. But if you want to see something truly marvellous, just step through that door and take a look."

"I thought you said it was a dead end," Aiden remarked, glancing over at the unopened door.

"It is, though if you're as interested in ancient relics as I suspect, what you'll see in there might cause you to stop caring." His curiosity piqued, Aiden set the gauntlet down and slowly walked over to the door, gently turning the handle and pulling it open. When he stepped inside, he wasn't sure what he was seeing at first, but as the realisation dawned on him, his mouth gaped open at the implications.

The room was vast, stretching beyond the edge of his meagre light and was dotted with relics spaced at regular intervals. Though most of them were broken, their design was almost identical to the tall, cylindrical arcane device that Desmond used in his laboratory to open a portal to the Aether. The sage Dale had one of them too, at his house in Bracksford, but arranged in neat rows were thirty-two of the things, sitting dormant amongst the decay of ages.

Aiden was unable to comprehend the sheer volume of power the generators could produce when Desmond had operated one recently. The thought of so many in one place boggled the mind. Walking silently amongst the cylinders, Aiden discovered a pair of blackened skeletons lying upon the floor, with the tattered remains of their decaying clothing rotting around them.

"My only companions for the past two days," Alain suddenly remarked, startling Aiden who had thought he was alone. "The larger one had that gauntlet on his right hand, although there was no sign of any other armour around here. It appears the smaller one killed him, judging by the way they were lying when I found them."

The room shook as if from a heavy impact, and the sound of someone crying out in alarm could be heard echoing from out in the main hall. Fearing the worst, Aiden and the explorer rushed back out to the passageway to find Ronan and Sir William at the heavy, formerly locked door, trying to push it closed.

"What the hell is going on out here?" Alain cried as the door was slugged by another heavy impact that shook the hall. Ronan staggered backwards, clutching at one hand in sudden pain, and without him holding the door in place, the old knight was unable to hold back whatever was coming through from the other side. He skidded across the floor as the door was pushed outwards, and an immense, dark shape filled the doorway.

It was larger than the door, easily ten feet in height, and had to stoop down to get through. A heavy, metal foot crunched down onto the floor, and Aiden realised that it was an arcane construct, implacable and unintelligent, that was emerging from the locked room. Each movement it made was accompanied by a grinding sound, and sparks danced around the joints of its gargantuan limbs.

Aiden and Alain scrambled backwards as the construct shouldered its way into the passage, cutting them off from Ronan and Sir William with its sheer bulk. He could hear the two men backing their way along the corridor as the golem took slow, purposeful steps toward them.

"What on earth is that thing?" Maggie exclaimed from behind Aiden, gaping up at the immense golem in horror as it swung its mighty fist towards their friends. Ronan managed to dodge to one side as it swung at them, its fist slamming into the wall just above the sailor's head. Sir William, courageous to a fault, swung Solas Aingeal at its arm, connecting with a resounding clang.

"I managed to scratch it, at least," Sir William called ruefully.

"Just keep backing up, we'll figure something out from this end," Aiden called, silently cursing Ronan's curiosity that had unleashed the monster upon them. Aiden reflexively reached down to his scroll case, but then recalled that he only had one left, and it was something that was of little use in this situation. With a sudden craving for arcane power he settled upon the sceptre on his hip, drawing it and aiming the weapon at the back of the lumbering construct.

Hoping that Desmond had done his job properly, he whispered the command word and a familiar beam of brilliant yellow light burst forth from the gem-encrusted tip, striking the golem between its prodigious shoulders. Expecting it to turn and face the new threat, Aiden was dumbfounded when it continued to press its assault on Ronan and the old knight, unharmed.

"It didn't even scratch it," Aiden muttered in disbelief, struggling to think of another solution.

"My turn," Maggie said, darting past the two men and producing a spray of water from an upraised hand. The water cascaded over the back of the construct, and Aiden wasn't certain what she was trying to accomplish until she stepped back and began to pray. After a long moment, nothing unusual had yet happened, and Maggie shot an exasperated glance back at Aiden.

"It's resisting my prayers," she mumbled as the golem continued to stride down the corridor. Although it wasn't easy to see, Aiden could still hear the sounds of their weapons clinking off the armoured behemoth as it tried to close in on them.

"Whatever you're doing, it's not working!" Sir William called.

"That prayer was supposed to rust it, but it's not made of iron," Maggie explained, keeping back behind Aiden and Alain — not that they could provide any better protection, of course.

"It's made of the same thing as the rest of the complex," Alain said, "and although you may not recognise it, the entire place is made of auldsteel. Wait, I've got it! We drop it into the cavern at the end of the hall."

"Brilliant..." Maggie breathed, "except we will need to lure it there first."

"Aiden, it's not bothering me, but Sir William here would really like it if you killed this thing," Ronan called, still managing to sound laconic even while facing the giant construct.

"Lead it back to the crevasse, we're going to figure something out," Aiden called back, shrugging at Maggie for lack of a better idea.

"That's not going to be a problem," Ronan answered, ducking underneath another laborious swing from the massive metal arm. Aiden noticed that it was only using its right arm, while the left one seemed to be seized into place.

"So how are you going to prevent them falling to their deaths?" Maggie whispered.

"I've got an idea," Alain replied. "Do any of you have rope?"

"Ronan's got it," Aiden said, shaking his head.

"That makes it even easier," the explorer said with a half-smile. To Aiden's astonishment, he placed one foot on the wall next to him and walked up to the ceiling above. It was as if he was being pulled to the wall instead of the floor, and when he reached the ceiling, he walked onto it as if it was the ground.

Quickly, the explorer ran around the head of the golem, which lifted its arm up to try and grab him. He hung over the top of where the two men were backing away from the monster and Aiden could only imagine the astonished looks on their faces.

"Give me your rope, quickly," Alain ordered. "No, just one end — tie the other around your waists and follow me."

"I hope he doesn't mean that literally," Sir William grumbled before they disappeared completely. Aiden and Maggie held back for a moment as the construct followed the three men, attempting to speed up but failing to accomplish anything aside from generating more sparks and a horrid screeching noise that set Aiden's teeth on edge.

When it finally stomped around the corner, they hurried along to catch up, in case things didn't go as planned.

The explorer was tying the rope around the jagged edge where the tunnel had been torn open, and the two men below him were slowly backing up to where the floor fell away.

"It's done," Alain confirmed, finishing the last of the knots that would prevent them from falling to their deaths. "Jump across to the other side, and hopefully this thing will follow."

"And what if it doesn't?" Ronan dared to ask, but he didn't wait around for an answer as he and Sir William built up some speed and leapt over the chasm. Holding onto the rope for dear life, they sailed through the air, but when they came to the end of the rope's travel, they were over a yard short of making it to the other side.

The golem reached the edge of the floor, but clearly sensed that the two men were about to swing back within range, and stopped with its balled fist at the ready. Alain, watching the situation unfold, heaved on the rope and managed to slow them down enough that they avoided the golem's fist, but the stubborn construct just stood at the edge of the chasm, waiting for its next chance.

"We have to do something," Aiden cried, trying to think of a way to push the golem off the edge. He considered shoulder-rushing it but didn't think his body had enough mass to move the damned thing. Remembering his magical ring, Aiden raised his hand only to recall that the ring was lost.

In times past, when he had used relics such as the jewelled glove that summoned his shield of force, Aiden had been able to duplicate their effects once the relic ceased to function. On an impulse, he held his hand steady and imagined the ring still on his finger, then spoke the command word.

The golem was shoved forward a few inches as Aiden felt energy surge through his extended arm, and he knew then he was able to imitate the ring's effects.

"Do that again," Maggie said, having noticed Aiden's sorcery. She whispered a prayer towards the golem and an oozing black grease formed at its feet. Aiden knew what she was up to and once more, spoke the command word to activate the non-existent ring. The golem lurched forward again, and this time kept sliding forward every so slowly.

Whatever it had in place of a mind realised what was about to happen, and it started to backpedal away from the chasm. Its metal feet, slick with grease, could find no purchase on the metal floor. The golem soon ran out of floor and toppled into the abyss, striking the rocky walls on its way down.

Aiden felt a wave of dizziness come over him, but it quickly subsided. He looked back down the corridor at the two men who still hung by the rope, and felt a wind rising in the stale air. Ronan and Sir William found themselves pushed by the wind onto the slippery floor, where they were deposited when Alain, still on the ceiling, untied the rope.

The wind died down again and returned to the slow, mournful howl they'd heard upon arriving, and Maggie lowered her hands.

"Nice trick," Aiden said to her as the effects of her conjuration subsided. She smiled and nodded as the three men were content to lay there, catching their breath as the shock of his fight receded.

"Are you all okay?" Maggie asked, peering at them inquisitively.

"I will be, so long as you promise to never tell me what this goo is," Ronan answered, trying to wipe the slippery stuff off his leathers.

"You have a deal," Maggie said with a wistful grin.

* * *

Once they'd recovered, Alain headed straight into the newly-opened room, eager to find what secrets lay inside. By their flickering torchlight, he discovered a wealth of debris, but with another of those strange skeletons piled on top — with an amulet around its bony neck. Alain's knowledge of arcane devices was even greater than Aiden's, and it only took him a minute to figure out that this was the key to the other door, the one they really wanted to see behind.

"Behold!" Alain said with a flourish as the ensorcelled door opened without a sound. Inside was a stark contrast to the rest of the complex, for the furniture, shelves and books that sat upon them appeared to be in excellent condition.

"It's a library?" Sir William wondered, stepping inside after the others.

"More than that, I suspect," Alain breathed, glancing at the items placed upon a large desk. "A repository of relics, as well as knowledge."

"Any chance there's a door out of here, someplace?" Ronan asked, unimpressed by what he saw.

"Take a look around, while Aiden and I investigate our findings," the explorer replied tiredly, suddenly appearing worn. It turned out there was no other door, as one would expect from a vault, but after two hours of searching through the sheaves of parchments, they had discovered some arcane scrolls of immense value. In particular, one of them just might be able to get them back to Alain's house, if the explorer could read it correctly.

"So, it's much like the incantation that brought us here?" Aiden inquired, having practically forgotten the events of the day in his excitement at the find.

"Yes, though it will require me to specify something unique about the destination, since I have no sigils on my floor," Alain explained, his eyelids heavy. "Fortunately, I am well acquainted with my house. I must say, in spite of the hardships, this place has turned out to be quite a discovery. Though you came here by accident, I am glad that you did."

"I might even forgive him, one of these days," Maggie grumbled.

"Well, now that we've uncovered the place, I shall be returning here — with adequate supplies this time — to uncover as much as I can," Alain said. "There's probably a few years worth of research to be done, all in good time. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm bloody tired. Let's go home, shall we?" After they had gathered up their belongings, Alain had them all gather together in a tight circle as he read from the scroll, and after a brief flash of light, they found themselves standing once more in his empty laboratory back in Amalis.

"Thank God that actually worked," Sir William breathed, appearing exhausted in the dim torchlight.

"I've used incantations like that before, so the result was never in doubt," Alain responded confidently, and then yawned widely. "I am in your debt, friends — please feel free to make use of my spare rooms to rest yourselves in. I personally haven't slept in some time, so I'll take my leave of you. Goodnight, and thank you again." The explorer staggered out of the room and headed into the master bedroom, where he promptly collapsed onto the bed and was snoring within moments.

Aiden had wanted to bring up the subject of the Sceptre of Oblivion, but suddenly found it difficult to keep his eyes open. He realised they had travelled all day to reach Amalis, and then spent most of the night dealing with the situation in that damned ruin, nearly perishing in the process. Bidding the others farewell, he found his way into a spare bedroom and within moments was drifting off to sleep.

Chapter Seven

Pacian sat near a burning brazier for warmth, for the old monastery they had taken shelter in was only slightly warmer than the surrounding mountains. As the sun set over the mountains in the west, the two dozen or so dwarven soldiers who had survived the battle, sat along the walls of the great hall.

The monastery itself was huge, with vaulted ceilings supported by ornate columns, lit by braziers and fireplaces along its length. The smoke carried with it the aroma of pungent herbs burning in the fires. The place had a solemn, austere feeling to it and the ascetics themselves wore only thick robes and shoes.

Pacian winced as he looked at three deep gashes on his left side where the dragon's claw had struck him. He hadn't even noticed being hit, in the heat of the battle. A huge, savage-looking man with a tattooed face bandaged his injuries. If Pacian was to judge a man by his appearance, he would classify this chap as a "violent thug". Despite this, he tended to Pacian's wounds with gentle consideration.

"So, what's your story?" Pacian asked, glancing cautiously at the monk.

"Just relax," the rough-looking priest advised with a voice like gravel.

"You're not making it easy," Pacian answered dryly. Nellise had mentioned the place was the last refuge of scoundrels and criminals, seeking to do penance for their sordid pasts. This character certainly fit the description.

"This is the one place in the entire country that you're guaranteed safety. Try not to jump to conclusions based on appearances, friend. This advice will serve you well throughout your life."

"Thanks, I'll keep it in mind," Pacian replied blandly, not at all taken with the idea of accepting advice from someone who ruined his own life so badly, he had to join a monastery. After he had wrapped bandages around Pacian's chest, the monk held a crystal in one hand and started to pray, bathing them in a healing radiance that slowly began to heal his wounds.

Across the room, Pacian noticed Sergeant MacIntosh hobbling towards him. Like most dwarven men, he sported a respectable beard, and his piercing blue eyes seemed both intelligent and observant.

"Nice to see you in one piece, sarge," Pacian remarked, gesturing to the empty space next to him. "Have a seat — you look like you could use one."

"Ne'er has a truer word been spoken," the dwarven soldier muttered as he awkwardly manoeuvred his stout frame onto the plain hessian carpet covering the stone floor. "Call me Tosh, if ya like. Me friends do, and I think ye've earned the right."

"Okay Tosh, it's nice to meet you," Pacian replied, offering his hand, which the burly sergeant shook firmly. "I'm Pacian, by the way."

"Yeah we know yer names," Tosh responded. "Four longshanks walking with a war party o' dwarves, word gets around, y'know? Anyways, I came by to thank ya for saving our lives back there. If it'd been me in yer shoes, I woulda gotten outta there, quick as can be."

"You're welcome," Pacian replied.

"O' course, I have to wonder if yer brave or foolish for dancin' around in front o' the dragon like ya did."

"Tosh my friend, we both know it wasn't bravery," Pacian said with a wink, drawing a tired chuckle from the wounded soldier. "But in all modesty, we should be thanking Sayana. She does most of the work in a situation like that and well, she got me out of there despite harbouring an unreasoning dislike of yours truly."

Tosh turned around and gave the red-haired sorceress an appraising look. She was sitting with the other ladies, both of them keeping the badly-wounded Valennia company near one of the fireplaces. The akoran warrior-maiden suffered several broken ribs, a broken arm and a fractured collarbone, but Nellise assured them she'd be fighting-fit in a few days. Pacian noted that many of the other dwarves were paying them close attention, and he was reasonably sure it wasn't because they were easy on the eye.

"Are your men starved for female attention after only two days away from home, or is there another reason they're gawking at my ladies?"

"Yours, are they?" Tosh asked with a raised eyebrow. "They've barely been civil to ya, from what I've heard."

"Theirs is a tough love," Pacian explained patiently. "But seriously, it's a little strange, seeing a couple dozen soldiers staring at them like that."

"You and yer ladies did kinda save our backsides out there," Tosh reminded him. "Think of it as hero worship."

"Well, when you put it that way," Pacian shrugged, and the dwarven soldier laughed heartily.

"It's been a hard day, lad," Tosh said, clapping Pacian on the back and causing him a moment of pain. "Get yerself some rest, and we'll be back at Stonegaard afore tomorrow evening. I've a feelin' that things are likely to get a little heated once we're back home, and ye and yer friends are gonna need yer wits about ya."

"What are you talking about?" Pacian asked curiously.

"We lost two thirds o' our company," Tosh explained solemnly. "The dragon's still there, even if she's wounded. It's a debacle, no matter which way ya swing it, and I heard the king had to call in a lot of favours to make this happen in t' first place."

"Why does a king need to call in favours?" Pacian asked dryly.

"Now that, is a very good question," Tosh replied as he stood. "Ya might want to think about that before we get back tomorrow." Pacian watched Tosh hobble over to his men, then turned his attention back to the man tending his wounds.

"I think that'll do for the evening," he informed the thuggish monk. "It'll heal up on its own, now."

"As you say," the ascetic gruffly replied, putting away his crystal and walking off. Pacian settled down for the evening, taking out some rations from his pack to nibble on as he unpacked his bedroll and planned to get some rest. As he lay down, he gazed over at the ladies and noticed that Valennia appeared to be utterly miserable, but chalked it up to her near-death experience.

* * *

Although they had been patched-up at the monastery, the column of soldiers still moved slowly on their journey back home the next day. It struck Pacian that it was more about poor morale than physical injury. The warriors of Stonegaard were proud and determined upon leaving their city, but the experience with the dragon had brought them low, a humbling experience by anyone's measure.

Their arrival at Stonegaard was not the great cause for celebration the dwarves had hoped for. The light camaraderie upon their departure was gone, and the brief cheering from the citizens of Stonegaard dissipated moments after the weary group entered the main gate shortly before sundown, with only a third of their original number.

Up and down the main thoroughfare, the hardy citizens of the city stopped what they were doing and gazed at the arriving soldiers. The silence was deafening, broken only by the muted weeping of women who discovered their loved ones had not returned from the fight.

An ancient dwarf with a bristling grey beard walked up to the group and started asking questions. From his place near the rear of the column, Pacian couldn't make out what was being said, but he assumed the greybeard was demanding to know what had happened.

It was only when the old dwarf started moving through the ranks of the soldiers that Pacian began to feel uneasy, for he recognised the ancient dwarf as the one Sloane had been talking to as they'd left Stonegaard, a few days earlier. When he reached Sayana, he turned the surprised woman around and stared at the shining vythiric axe on her back.

He stepped back and called out to the crowd in his native language, pointing at the weapon and the bewildered sorceress who suddenly found herself to be the centre of attention. Pacian rushed to the front of the column where Tosh was watching events unfold with one hand on the hilt of his axe.

"What's going on?" Pacian demanded, watching as many in the crowd seemed to be responding to the ancient dwarf's rantings.

"Old Hamish is making a bit of a scene," Tosh grunted in reply. "He's tellin' the crowd that yer friend has the Cul Alin Maclagh, also known as 'Thanesedge' in the tongue o' men."

"What the hell does any of that mean, and why aren't you stopping him?" Pacian practically yelled to his face.

"Because I think he's right!" Tosh replied with equal volume. "I thought I recognised it when I first saw 'er, but I wasn't sure 'til we got into the fight and she threw it at the dragon. The design is unmistakeable — it's the Axe o' the Dwarven Kings, thought lost in Ferrumgaard." As Pacian listened, he saw that the Hamish's little display was garnering more attention, even from the other soldiers.

Hamish tried to pull the axe from Sayana's back, but she shrugged him off, and soon found Valennia standing by her side. Her imposing presence kept the increasingly unsettled dwarves at bay with a steely glare.

"What's he saying?" Pacian demanded with hands on the hilts of his daggers. Tosh listened for a few moments, and then barked a few orders to his nearest men.

"He's sayin' that the axe being returned is a sign from Relnak," he explained, invoking the name of the dwarven god of battle. Tosh's eyes widened as he kept listening. He gave up all pretence of translating for Pacian and instead started to push his way through the crowd, bellowing orders at the top of his lungs.

The scene was quickly turning into a riot as people crowded in closer, some of them cheering, some of them screaming angrily, throwing rocks and other things at the women, and Pacian couldn't make any sense of it. Struggling to push his way through the throng, he saw Tosh organise his weary soldiers into a defensive ring.

"This is gettin' out o' hand. We're getting' ye and the women to the inn where we can hold 'em off!" Tosh bellowed over the noise of the thron. Pacian didn't bother replying, and instead started to thread his way through the crowd as the ring of dwarven soldiers pushed their way through.

Fortunately, the Rockslide Inn was close to the entrance of the city and after a few minutes of shoving through the crowd, Pacian and the dwarven soldiers managed to reach the staircase. After making sure the ladies were safe, Tosh issued orders to one of his corporals, who saluted and immediately disappeared into the crowd. The sergeant grabbed Pacian by his elbow and "escorted" him upstairs.

The cacophony receded into the background as the familiar sights and smells of the Rockslide's common room came into sight. Tosh closed the front door behind them and locked the door. The innkeeper came over to protest, but Tosh seemed to explain the situation well enough to gain his cooperation.

"Are you okay?" Pacian asked Nellise, though all three women nodded in reply.

"Sergeant, what just happened back there?" Nellise asked as Tosh finished securing the door and walked over to join them.

"I'm sorry I waited so long to get ya safe," he started by apologising. "Old Hamish is renowned fer stirring up trouble, but it wasn't 'til he called fer the overthrow o' the king that I had the feeling he was goin' a bit far this time."

"Wait, what?" Nellise asked, incredulous. "Start from the beginning."

"That was Hamish MacAliese, a distant cousin of the old king of Ferrumgaard," Tosh explained. "The MacAliese's are few in number these days, but they still reckon they're the true leaders o' the dwarves."

"Ah yes, Clavis MacAliese told us much concerning this matter, before his demise," Nellise replied, drawing a raised eyebrow from the sergeant. Pacian decided not to mention that the remnants of the MacAliese clan were still living within the desolate halls of Ferrumgaard, and were also quite insane.

"Clavis was the next in line fer the throne, if ya discount the fall o' the old monarch," Tosh said, "but if he's dead, Hamish is the heir apparent. We haven't seen Clavis around here in a while though, so I'm not sure how Hamish heard o' his death."

"That's my fault," Pacian offered. "I told his daughter Sloane and I saw her talking to Hamish before we left. I guess he managed to put it all together from there."

"What does my axe have to do with this?" Sayana asked.

"Hamish said it were a sign," Tosh went on, sitting at a nearby table and gesturing for the others to do likewise. "King Sulinus ordered the attack on the dragon, and had to gain the support o' some local lords and power players to make it happen. Now that it's failed, he's lookin' weak on t' throne, and with the reappearance of Thanesedge — yer axe — he's convinced that now is the time fer a change of leadership.

"A respectable portion o' the population think the MacTavishes usurped the throne from the MacAlieses, too, which ain't helping. I've sent one o' me men to get the attention o' the powers that be, but until that happens, yer stayin' right here."

"If you fear the crowd, let me deal with them," Valennia offered grimly. "I need a good battle to restore my honour after our last defeat."

"They're just civilians, ma'am," Tosh replied, narrowing his eyes at the towering akoran. "I can't allow you to kill 'em just fer having wrongful beliefs."

"Yet you allow them to push you around like this?"

"Val, please," Nellise softly begged, touching her on the arm. "You couldn't even fight Pacian in your current state."

"Hey!" Pacian protested, but was ignored.

"Very well," Valennia relented, crestfallen once more after a brief return to form, "I will refrain from embarking on a bloody rampage."

"I'm very appreciative," Tosh drawled. "Now, just sit back and relax until we hear back from the Crown." Tosh sighed and rubbed his temples, and then he gave Sayana an appraising look.

"Speak your mind," she stated.

"I was wondering if I might take a closer look at it," the sergeant politely requested. "Just t'be sure, I mean." The sorceress exchanged a long glance with the stout dwarf, then passed it to him. The magnificent weapon gleamed in the fading sunlight streaming in through the windows, with ornate fluting along its length and strange glyphs etched into the metal.

"Yeah, that be the one," Tosh muttered to himself with a wavering voice. He tested its balance, his eyes misting over with what Pacian assumed were tears of reverence. Finally, he handed it back over to Sayana, who carefully hung it over her back once more.

"Should I just hand it over?" Sayana asked quietly. "I don't want to cause a fuss, and Clavis was the one who retrieved it, after all. Perhaps he would have wanted it to go to his cousin?"

"It's bigger than that, now," Tosh answered. "King Sulinus isn't gonna stand fer someone else walkin' around with Thanesedge and proclaiming himself the true king. This could lead to a clan war if we don't tread carefully."

"Perhaps we should hand it over to King Sulinus then," Nellise said. "He has been a staunch ally for Aielund since the lands of Stonegaard were given to your people, and if this would shore up his claim to the throne..."

"Maybe, but we'll let him decide," Tosh replied.

"I heard that Sulinus used to be a baker, is that true?" Pacian asked, genuinely interested, though not completely oblivious to the fact it was probably an insult.

"Smart men don't ask questions like that," Tosh growled quietly. "I'm gonna go and make sure the stairs are secure. Why don't you all have a meal and get some rest? I'll let ya know when I've heard some news." Without waiting for an answer, Tosh stood up and stalked over to the front door, while Nellise and Sayana threw accusing glares at Pacian.

"That was a legitimate question," he answered defensively. "If you want to head to your rooms, I'll organise some food," he continued awkwardly when no reply was forthcoming.

A few minutes later, the four of them were enjoying a hot meal in the diplomatic suite. Valennia, propped up in a large chair near the fire, appeared to be sullen and withdrawn as she ate her meal without appetite. So, it was a surprise to all of them when she threw her bowl to the floor in a sudden fit of rage.

"What's the matter with you?" Nellise asked as she reluctantly dropped to her hands and knees to clean up the mess.

"I hate feeling so... weak," Valennia muttered, checking her bandages to make sure they were still in place.

"You were almost killed by a dragon," Nellise pointed out as she wiped the floor with a cloth. "She hit you so hard I thought you'd died instantly, so maybe you can give yourself a break and just relax for a few days?" Valennia appeared to consider this for a moment, but her impatient expression returned shortly afterward.

"Heal me faster, that I might return to exact my revenge upon the winged beast," she grated with unusual intensity. "This time, I will not fail. This time—"

"This time you'll be killed for sure. What the hell is the matter with you?" Pacian snapped, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"You wouldn't understand," she replied hotly.

"Something has been bothering you since we left Fairloch," Sayana remarked. "I'm not sure why you're still with us, either. Your father is chieftain of the Akora once more, so why do you not return home?" Valennia seemed to think for a few moments before replying.

"When we first met, I told you that I had been exiled by Erag the Usurper," she began in sombre tones. "That was untrue. I was forced into exile by my own father for killing several men in the tribe. I did not hear of his fall from power until weeks after I left to seek my own fortune, yet I still swore to kill Erag and make my father chieftain once more."

"We took care of that for you," Pacian told her. "Erag is dead, and so is his shaman. I forget his name... Tim? Claude? Something like that."

"Tald?" the akoran woman asked in mild disbelief. "It must have been a fierce battle."

"I'm trying to forget it, myself," Nellise mumbled. "I will say, however, that many of the akoran men we fought were monsters, and I had no qualms about killing as many as we did."

"They slaughtered the captives, yes?" Valennia asked directly. "That is what you would not speak of earlier." Nellise did not answer, and simply looked at the crackling fire before her.

"I don't think she wants to talk about it," Pacian warned, keeping his anger in check.

"When I was young," the akoran warrior said, ignoring Pacian, "there was much infighting amongst my people. My tribe lost the fight, and the victorious warriors came to our homes intent on pillaging what they could. Many of our men were injured from the fighting, and even though they had surrendered, the leader of the victors, the one you knew as Erag, immediately ordered the killing of the injured. They took no prisoners, and anyone too wounded to walk was killed without mercy.

Nellise was shocked to hear of this and Pacian went silent, feeling the blood boil in his veins.

"I clutched onto my mother as we helplessly watched," Valennia continued dispassionately. "Every moment is seared into my memory, as were the faces of those who did the killing. Erag may have been their leader, but his followers were chosen for their blood lust. In the middle of slaying the wounded, he said killing the weak would make us all stronger."

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea," Nellise whispered, walking over to sit next to the tall woman who was, for the first time since Pacian had met her, acting like a real human being.

"Spare me your sympathy, for I have no need of it," Valennia grated. "I vowed revenge on those men, so I set about learning the fighting arts from whoever would teach me. Women are usually not taught how to fight, so many found this to be unusual. My determination won them over however, and so I practiced in secret whenever I was not going about my chores. My strength and skill grew each year, fuelled by the fire of vengeance in my belly."

"Last winter, I finally had the chance to test my mettle against a worthy foe — a white bear that had wandered into camp. Taking up my axe, I fought the great creature until I finally took its head. Though gravely wounded, I survived thanks to the ministrations of our local shaman and my own will to live."

"In the summer, I finally felt ready to fulfil my oath, and sought out the men who had slain my brothers and cousins. Two of them had died in battle since then, but the other three lived. I took the first one's head before he knew what was happening, and the second was slow to react from heavy drinking. He lasted but moments before he too fell to my blade. The last one standing was the man whose face I recognised. He put up a good fight, but in the end all three of their heads adorned spears in the camp that night."

"Finally, some good news," Pacian murmured appreciatively.

"You appreciate what I did," Valennia remarked, "yet the elders of the akora were outraged that a woman had killed these men in cold blood. Erag raged about the injustice, and when I told them of their crime, they refused to acknowledge my words as truth. It was only through the influence of my father, who was now chieftain, that I was not put to death for slaying those men. Exile was to be my punishment, and truth be told I was glad to leave that place, for with Erag's influence, my people were heading down a dark path."

"Now I understand the source of your rage," Nellise remarked quietly. "I too began to walk down the path of hatred and vengeance just recently, until I was set aright by a good man who reminded me that there is a better way to deal with pain. Anger can be a powerful weapon, but I don't want to see you lose yourself to it, Val. I can help... if you'll let me."

"You have your methods, and I have mine," the akoran warrior replied distantly. Nellise gazed at her with a searching expression for a long moment before speaking again.

"One day soon we will speak of this again, and when we do, I hope you will be in a more receptive mood," she said with a note of lament.

"Your story makes me think my own exile was not such a bad thing after all," Sayana interrupted, offering her hand to Valennia in support. "It is possible we can work towards changing things within akora in the future, Val, but none of this explains why you were so eager to fight that dragon."

"I feel that I need to prove myself as a great warrior, so I might be accepted once more by my people," Valennia explained simply. "To take the head of a dragon back to my home would bring me that acceptance — nobody could deny such a feat."

"True enough, but let's try to find something a little more reasonable to fight next time," Nellise advised with a smile.

"I think we've lost that chance, now," Pacian sighed. "After losing dozens of soldiers, the dwarves would be unlikely to send in more." They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Pacian opened it and found Tosh standing out in the hall.

"What's the word, sarge?" Pacian asked as the burly soldier limped into the room.

"I've heard back from the king's council," he replied grimly, speaking to everyone present. "I'm to escort ya to an audience with King Sulinus immediately. But ye should know, word of the battle has started to spread around and things are getting ugly out on the streets. I'll be requiring ye all to stow yer weapons here for the time begin, as they won't be permitted in the king's court. I have a suspicion if ye take Thanesedge in with ya, it'll be taken from ya whether ye like it or not, and perhaps not for the best."

"What do you mean?" Nellise asked suspiciously.

"Old Hamish is really just the mouthpiece for a movement that's been growing fer decades now," Tosh explained. "There are whispers o' revolution in the streets, and it ain't pretty. That axe is gonna be at the centre of it all, so best to keep it well hidden until it's all figured out, I say."

"They know we're staying here, I assume," Nellise observed. "There's nothing to stop anyone getting in here and taking it, should they so desire."

"This is a diplomatic suite, ma'am," Tosh disputed. "They canna take anything without yer express permission, or risk problems with Aielund in t' process. And there's probably a bunch o' secret hatches in here someplace, politics being politics n' all."

Pacian smirked at that comment, then immediately started searching around for any hidden doors or compartments. He spent a few minutes going over the walls and furniture while Nellise spoke to Tosh about conditions out in the city, before the sergeant seemed to reach the limits of his patience.

"You think yer just gonna stumble across 'em by accident?" he exclaimed with a mocking chuckle, that died in his throat when Pacian discovered a strange bump on the wall behind the desk, and watched as a small compartment opened up just above the fireplace across the room. It would have been impossible to tell it was there, as the door matched the stone brickwork around it precisely.

"Clever," Pacian remarked, almost to himself. "It's well hidden, and next to the fire in case vital documents need to be destroyed." He shifted the loose brick again, and the door closed without a sound.

"Well, I guess that'll do fer now," Tosh remarked. "Throw yer kit in there and it'll be safe enough."

"I'm sure your people know the ins and outs of this room, though," Pacian pointed out.

"I wouldn't know about that," Tosh shrugged. "But no fancy locks or compartments would be much use if'n we knew all about 'em, so I'd guess yer own engineers came in and made some changes we don't know about." Sayana drew out Thanesedge carefully placed the axe within.

Nellise and Valennia put their weapons on a rack near the door, and Pacian drew his two daggers with a flourish and put them into the desk drawers, hoping that nobody would remember he carried another eight blades strapped in various locations on his leathers.

"I do not feel right, walking the streets of this place with no means of defending myself or my comrades," Valennia stated, gazing down at the scythe with longing.

"Yer in our city now, and it falls to me and my men to keep ya safe," Tosh assured her. "After saving our lives, I can guarantee ya that no harm will come to any of ya while ye walk these halls. Now, if ye'll follow me, I'll escort ya to see the king. I'll put one o' me lads on the door to keep an eye on yer stuff."

Pacian graciously permitted the ladies to leave first, and even offered to help Valennia along. The wounded woman was too proud to accept his help, brushing aside his hand with impatient disdain. Nellise caught his eye as she brought up the rear, just behind the akoran.

"There but for the grace of God go I," she whispered with a meaningful glance.

Chapter Eight

Aiden's sandy eyes opened to the brightness of the morning sun streaming in through the window. His sides ached, and he discovered he was still wearing his breastplate.

A curious scraping sound from across the room caught his attention, and as he sat up in bed, he noticed Sir William standing before a mirror, mounted on the wall above a small basin. The old knight was intently shaving the skin around his broad moustache with a sharp razor, dipping it into the water after each pass to clean it of the grey bristles it had accumulated.

"Ah, he finally awakens," Sir William chuckled, glancing over at Aiden. "My apologies if I disturbed you, my friend. The room I slept in was bereft of conveniences beyond a soft bed."

"That's fine," Aiden croaked, taking a moment to unfasten the straps holding his breastplate in place and setting it to one side.

"You could probably use a shave yourself, unless you're planning on growing that beard properly," the knight continued as he wiped his face with a small towel. Aiden ran a hand over the stubble on his cheeks, having been too busy lately to really pay any attention to his appearance.

"I'll take a look at it later, perhaps," he replied without conviction.

"I imagine you've never shaved before, being a young man as you are," Sir William remarked insightfully. "I'll give you a few pointers. If you truly wish to grow a beard, you'll want to shave a few times to thicken it up." Unable to think of a reasonable excuse, Aiden pushed aside the blankets and walked over to stand before the mirror. It was the first time he'd looked at himself in a while, and his scraggly beard was laughably thin.

"The important thing to remember is to go with the grain, as it were," the old knight began as he guided Aiden through the procedure. It was straightforward enough, and despite a few nicks and cuts a painless enough process. It was also bittersweet for Aiden, as this was something his father would most likely have shown him, had the two of them been on speaking terms. But years of 'differences of opinion' had culminated in Aiden leaving home, and the two men had hardly spoken since.

"You seem sad," Sir William observed as Aiden wiped down his now smoothly shaven face. "Were you that attached to your fledging beard?"

"Not really," he replied quietly, "I had just hoped someone else might have shown me how to do this."

"Family troubles, I assume?"

"Yes... I had a falling-out with my parents a few months ago. I won't bore you with the details, but thank you for stepping into my father's shoes for a moment," Aiden answered with a wan smile.

"I am honoured to have the opportunity to act in his stead," Sir William said with a slight inclination of his head. "Being able to pass on such simple knowledge, in a way, makes you the son I never had, so consider us even in this regard."

"How are you doing this morning, anyway?" Aiden asked, a little self-conscious after the moment of male bonding.

"Well enough," Sir William replied gruffly. "I suspect you are referring to my state of mind after my little outburst the other day. Damnable self-indulgence on my part, if I may say."

"Nonsense, you had good reason for it considering the loss of your friend."

"Be that as it may," Sir William protested, "I am not prone to dwelling mournfully on things that cannot be changed, and I will try to avoid such displays in future. Regardless of how events have shaped my life, I am blessed to have the opportunity to serve now, in whatever capacity I am able. Without our intervention, Alain would surely have perished in the depths of that ruin, and we must thank the good graces of Kylaris for guiding us to him."

"I prefer to think my incompetence played some small part," Aiden added ruefully.

"It's all part of The Plan," Sir William assured him. "In short, my faith is restored, and you can count on my assistance in all matters, my friend."

"Including personal grooming, as it happens," Aiden remarked. The bedroom door opened, and Maggie's head peered around the edge from doorknob height.

"I thought I heard you two chatting away," she observed dryly. "Come and have something to eat — we need to head out as soon as possible."

"Is something wrong?" Aiden asked, suddenly concerned.

"Of course there is," Maggie replied with a withering look. "We were nearly marooned in some ancient cave, right on the cusp of dealing with my order. I've been very patient with you, but we are heading down there today before the situation can escalate any further and I will tolerate no more diversions, distractions, or tasks you deem important. You owe me, Aiden Wainwright, and I am calling in the debt!"

"I'm sorry we've been side-tracked a little too often," Aiden apologised, "and I give you my word we'll deal with your problem today, guaranteed."

"Even if Alain does have that sceptre we're looking for?"

"If by some chance he has the Sceptre of Oblivion, I'll have Sir William take it back to Fairloch while we assist you in Feybourne," Aiden assured her.

"You would send me away while a friend is in need of aid?" Sir William protested.

"I could trust nobody else with such a powerful relic, and I mean to fulfil my vow to Maggie," Aiden explained, unrepentant.

"Enough conjecture," the raelani druid said with finality. She disappeared into the hallway again, and Aiden and the knight followed along, catching up with her in the laboratory of all places.

Casually leaning in a large chair was Ronan, who sat at a table cleared of paraphernalia, replaced with plates of food. Busily serving up breakfast was a young woman dressed in servant's attire, who began ladling out a thick stew for the newcomers. The aroma was tantalising.

"Morning," Ronan said as he noticed the rest of them enter. "This is Mildred, one of Alain's servants, who has been looking after the place while he was indisposed." Mildred bobbed her head briefly, but remained silent. She was thin, and her dark hair was drawn back in a tight bun, giving her a rather severe appearance.

"Thank you," Aiden murmured as he accepted a bowl from the shy girl. "Any particular reason we're eating in the workshop?"

"It was at my insistence, sir," Alain called from the hallway just before he entered the workshop. Like Aiden, he had clearly slept in clothes covered in muck from his days in the mysterious ruin beneath the earth.

"You're looking... just terrible," Maggie remarked, unable to lie.

"The hangover of all hangovers I'm afraid," Alain croaked. "That wine was quite potent and were circumstances different, I would have shown a modicum of restraint. Mildred, leave us to speak in private."

"Of course, milord," Mildred replied softly with a quick curtsey.

"I know you've other important affairs to tend to, so I will keep this brief," Alain sighed as he sat into an old chair near the fireplace. "Without you, I'd most likely be stuck in that damnable place for the remainder of my life, and I want to reward you for your efforts."

"You know," Ronan mused, "I think you could have made your own way out. I don't know how you walked on the ceiling the way you did, but what was stopping you walking through those caves above the tunnels?"

"I tried that on the first day," Alain dismissed casually. "It was practically impossible to gain a footing on the walls of that cavern." He pulled back his trousers and showed them his footwear, a pair of dark leather boots with gold stitching and a small gemstone at the back, near the heel.

"Enchanted to walk on any surface," the explorer confided. "Not quite adequate to the task unfortunately, and I daresay those caves would have gone on for some time. Indeed, given the unique nature of our entry into the complex, it is entirely possible those caves do not connect to the surface. I shall have to investigate it more in the future, but for now, I have a gift for each of you."

"Firstly, to Miss Fairweather, I have this pendant," he said, pulling a necklace out from under the lapel of his shirt, revealing a tiny, sparkling diamond surrounded by jade.

"It's beautiful," Maggie breathed, moving forward for a closer look. Aiden narrowed his eyes and shifted his vision, confirming his belief that it was bathed in a powerful aura of magic, as were the boots.

"An ancient elven relic, capable of averting death for the wearer, but only once," Alain said, holding it fondly in one hand. "I discovered it in a deserted temple years ago, and have been wearing it ever since, though I am pleased to say I never needed it."

"Thank you, I'm rather speechless," Maggie replied as Alain handed it to her. She strung it around her neck and gazed down at the diamond, clearly taken with its appearance more than any other properties it might have.

"Sir Knight, I see your equipment is a little antiquated," Alain continued, looking at Sir William's armour that was stacked neatly in the corner.

"It has served me well these many years and in the case of my sword, I believe its age is actually a boon rather than a burden," he replied gruffly.

"Yes, I can see that it's fashioned from auldsteel, and its value is truly beyond measure. I thought you might like to make use of a shield that would be a worthy companion," Alain offered, pointing to a large round shield that hung from the wall behind them. Its finish was almost mirror-like, and carefully engraved with subtle lines that gave it a remarkable beauty. "It is fashioned from precious vythir, a gift from the dwarves after some work I did for them over a decade ago."

"I... its value must be incredible," the old knight stammered. "I thank, but I cannot accept it."

"Nonsense," Alain blustered. "It was designed to be used, not hung from a wall and forgotten. I can see you are a gentleman, and as such it would be rude of you to refuse."

"Well, when you put it that way," Sir William conceded, stepping forward to retrieve the shield from its place on the wall.

"While he's getting that down from there, I'd like to offer you something, Aiden," Alain continued. "I didn't have anything specific in mind, so why don't you take your pick?" Although he knew this was coming, Aiden only had one thing in mind.

"Have you come across, or at least heard of the 'Sceptre of Oblivion' in your travels?" he asked, hoping against hope that the explorer knew what he was referring to. Alain seemed to ponder the question for a moment, and Aiden felt his heart sink in his chest as the seconds went by.

"I can't recall coming across anything by that specific name," Alain slowly replied, "and I think I would remember a name like that. Where did you come by this curiosity?"

"A treatise on relics and the like, currently in possession of the Crown," Aiden explained. "It's an obscure work, and the existence of the sceptre itself was only discovered earlier this year. Part of the reason we're in this region is to try and recover it from Feybourne, and I had a slim hope you might have already discovered it, or at least have a notion as to its whereabouts."

"I am very sorry, but the nature of this artifact eludes me," Alain shrugged helplessly. "So, you're planning on venturing into Feybourne?" Aiden nodded, prompting the explorer to pause in further thought. "On my last journey through the ruins, I came across a part of the city that was protected by a kind of arcane barrier I was unable to bypass."

"What was it protecting?" Aiden asked, suddenly intrigued.

"I believe the arch mage's tower lies beyond that barrier, the only part of the city I've never been able to enter. The trinkets I've recovered on past expeditions pale in comparison to what must lie within that ancient edifice, and I can see by your expression that you have come to the same conclusion I have — your sceptre would most likely be therein."

"All the more reason for us to hurry along," Maggie prompted with a meaningful glance at Aiden.

"I'm sorry I could not be of more assistance," Alain apologised, "but I still insist you pick something to take as a reward."

"Do you still have that gauntlet you found in the reliquary?" he inquired after a moment's thought.

"Of course," Alain assured him.

"I'd like to take it, if you don't mind."

"That old thing? You do realise it's probably over a thousand years old, right?"

"I wasn't intent on wearing it, if that's what you're thinking," Aiden pointed out. "I think it's a remarkable artifact and I'd like to study it further."

"As you wish," Alain shrugged doubtfully. "I can see that you and I are very much alike, but I should warn you that whoever made that gauntlet knew how to keep their language a secret, for nobody has even been able to translate it."

"I'd still like to have it," Aiden said.

"Then it is yours," Alain declared, reaching behind him to the desk where he had placed the relic, and handing it over to Aiden. "May its secrets fail to drive you mad."

Aiden held the ancient gauntlet in his hands for a long moment before his hunger demanded he continue eating.

"Now, Ronan," Alain said, turning to the sailor. "I've been trying to think of something—"

"I'll take the boots, thanks," the sailor said without hesitation.

"I... my boots, you say?" Alain hedged. "Are you certain I can't interest you—"

"Boots, please," Ronan reiterated.

"I'm not even sure they'll fit you, to be honest."

"I can tell just by looking at you that you've got the same size feet as me," Ronan said. "I can have anything I want, right?"

"Well... of course," Alain relented, pulling his precious boots off and handing them to the sailor. Maggie was the only one not watching with interest, as her attention was drawn to the nearby window. As such, she missed out on Ronan placing one foot on the wall and walking upward.

Although silent, Ronan's smile practically took in his ears as he walked up to the ceiling and across to the window, hanging upside down as if it was nothing.

"I'm going to miss those," Alain muttered.

"Looks like we're in for some stormy weather," Ronan remarked, looking out the window while standing directly above Maggie, who seemed to be transfixed upon something outside.

"That's no ordinary storm," she breathed as a ripple of distant thunder echoed over the land. Her voice sent a shiver up Aiden's spine and he leaned over to peer out the window to see the blackest clouds he had even seen billowing towards the city. "We are too late — the attack on the city is starting!"

"Who's attacking the city?" Alain asked, completely bewildered.

"The druids of Feybourne strive to return this land to its natural state," Maggie explained hastily. "We need to find them and stop the conclave before they succeed. We have to go, now! Ronan, we need supplies."

"Gotcha," Ronan replied, running along the ceiling, down the wall and onto the floor as he sped out the door.

"Sir William, let me help you suit up," Aiden offered as the wind began to pick up and a flash of lightning lit the sky.

"Right away," the old knight replied. "Mister Dufort, it has been an honour," he said to Alain, shaking his hand firmly before hurrying out the door to his room.

"The honour is mine, sir," Alain said, looking to all of them as he spoke. "Go quickly, and take what you need from downstairs — consider it my contribution to your cause."

"I will go and fetch our horses from the inn stables, and we'll meet at the south gate," Maggie said as she dashed out the door. A bolt of lightning flashed in the sky and moments later, thunder shook the house.

Aiden help the knight suit up and once his own breastplate was strapped on, they were ready to go within minutes. Once they had gathered their equipment, they hurried downstairs to meet up with Ronan, who had filled a sack with fresh bread, cheese and sausages for their journey.

When Aiden opened the front door of the house, they were blasted by the storm assailing the city. Aielund always experienced cold winters, but the intensity of this storm was like nothing he'd ever seen. The three men moved hastily through the busy streets to the south gate, where Maggie stood trying to keep the horses calm in the increasingly violent weather.

"Follow me as we ride south," Maggie yelled over the howling winds. "This storm is being created by my brethren, so I will be able to find their exact location."

"Where's your cat?" Aiden called back as he stroked the side of his nervous horse before climbing onto the saddle.

"He's waiting just outside the gate," Maggie shouted, waiting for them to mount up before leading them through the gates and past the distressed guards.

In the middle of road, just outside the small gates sat Thorn, the white tiger mildly annoyed by the storm brewing overhead, but unflinching when a clap of thunder rolled over the land. As she approached, the tiger let out roar and knelt before her, allowing the tiny woman to climb on his back.

"This way!" she cried as Aiden's ears popped. On an impulse, he looked up and was momentarily transfixed by the swirling clouds forming a huge maelstrom. A bolt of lightning blinded him momentarily, followed by a deafening clap of thunder.

He struggled to keep his mount under control with his legs, and when he was able to see again, part of the city's wall had been blasted away. His doubts about the druid's ability to destroy the city were quickly vanishing.

"Ride!" Maggie yelled, followed by a roar from Thorn as the tiger leaped forward. Aiden's horse was more than eager to flee the storm and they sped down the narrow path toward the tree line. Ice-cold sleet fell from the sky, spurred on by the winds to pummel them as they raced to escape the storm influence.

The next hour was a nightmare, where every second in the storm seemed to last forever and Aiden's face became numb from the driving cold. The ground began to undulate and soon, the narrow path disappeared entirely. He kept his head low as he focused entirely on keeping Maggie in sight, for if he lost track of her, he would become lost in the storm.

Finally, the punishing conditions started to abate as they reached the edge of the foul weather, and they stopped for a few minutes to let the horses catch their breath.

"My God, look at it," Sir William exclaimed, prompting Aiden to look through the trees towards the city. The black, pulsating clouds continued to churn in the skies above, and flashes of lightning crackled every few seconds.

"How is it possible for mere mortals to generate such power," Aiden said without emotion.

"Even if the entire conclave focused their will, this would be difficult to achieve," Maggie explained with a slight crease of her forehead. "I have never before seen such power. Though it won't last long, the intensity of the storm will cause extensive damage to the city."

"We should keep moving," Sir William advised. "Every moment we delay, the people of Amalis are imperilled." Maggie nodded, and together they turned and continued through the forest. It wasn't long before the druid's warning about the changing terrain became apparent. The ground was lightly dusted in snow, masking frozen pools of swampy water. Maggie guided Thorn through the sad-looking trees drooping over the landscape, their branches bare as they awaited the turning of the seasons.

Aiden did his best to guide his horse along the same path as the tiger, trusting in Maggie's ability to guide them through the swamp without falling into a pocket of icy water. It was slow going for the next hour and Aiden chafed at the delay, wondering how many lives were being lost back at the city.

An eerie silence descended upon them as they moved like ghosts through the barren swampland, until the faint hint of voices could be heard somewhere ahead.

"I hear them chanting," she whispered as they came to a halt. "We need to disrupt the ceremony."

"I recall they chased you out of here when you objected to their 'new direction,'" Aiden remarked quietly. "Can we expect a hostile reception?"

"Undoubtedly," she replied grimly, slipping down the side of the tiger and landing without sound on the soft snow. "Once the conjuration is disrupted, they will have only a few moments to recommence the ceremony or it will be lost."

"They cannot be allowed to start it again," Sir William stated, lowering his visor and stroking Bastion's side. "Though it pains me to say it, we must break them."

"I had hoped to have one last attempt to dissuade them from this insanity," Maggie lamented, "but there's no point dwelling on what might have been. If we have to kill them to protect the city, then so be it."

"I have one question before we head in," Ronan said as he dismounted and took out his short bow. "Will your god answer your prayers, or theirs?"

"Nature doesn't play favourites," Maggie answered evenly, taking out her green crystal. "It will be survival of the fittest."

"Lovely," Ronan grumbled.

Thorn suddenly growled as he sniffed at the air, and the answering snarl of another animal nearby could be heard. Aiden froze as a huge dark wolf loped into view, its yellow eyes gazing steadily at the small group.

From the opposite direction, another wolf appeared, and another, until five dire wolves took up position around them. Aiden's horse screamed and reared at the presence of the predators, as did Ronan's mount. They bolted at full speed through a gap between the monstrous wolves. Aiden silently cursed as the horse took most of his supplies with it.

Five pairs of yellow canine eyes watched the horses flee then turned their focus onto Aiden and his companions with a display of uncanny intelligence. Through the frozen swamp, the pounding of heavy paws upon the ground could be heard and a bellowing roar split the air. Aiden watched incredulously as a bear, larger than the biggest grizzly he had ever seen bounded into view.

"What the hell is that thing," Ronan muttered in disbelief, gripping his bow tightly.

"Dire bear," Maggie replied curtly. "I was dreading this moment. He belongs to Bowen, one of the most influential druids in the sect, and part of his rise to power was acquiring that bear as a companion." Maggie took a few cautious steps forward, moving slowly so as not to provoke a response from the encircling animals. "Titan! Be gone from here and bother us no more." she shouted at the bear, which replied with an ominous growl.

"Was that supposed to work?" Ronan uttered as the ring of animals started to close in.

"I thought it was worth a try," Maggie shrugged, drawing her tiny sword.

"They send their minions to stall for time, instead of facing us themselves," Sir William remarked, unperturbed. "Let us show them the error of their ways." With a quick snap of her wrist, Maggie set Thorn loose, and the tiger let out a defiant roar before charging straight at the lead wolf. A brief flash of green energy enveloped the tiger as the raelani druid empowered the great cat with a prayer.

Sir William drew Solas Aingeal and held his shield tightly, as Bastion reared on his hind legs, kicking at the air. The huge warhorse did not show any fear of the beasts as he carried the knight straight towards the giant dire bear, churning up the snow as Sir William held his sword ready to strike.

Ronan quickly loosed an arrow into the side of the dire bear as it pounded through the snow. Aiden saw a second dire wolf move in to assist its cousin against Thorn, so he decided to help out the white tiger by aiming his sceptre at the rushing wolf and speaking the command word.

A brilliant shaft of light scorched the wolf along its flank, igniting its fur and sending it howling into the snow. It rolled around to extinguish the flames and then bolted into the trees. A grey-brown flash of colour dashed past Aiden as another wolf pounced on Maggie, bowling her into the snow and batting her around like a toy. Aiden was about to go to her aid until he was intercepted by another wolf.

Gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, Aiden summoned his force shield and he suspected the beast would not see it. As it gnashed and bit at him, it fell against the shield harmlessly each time and Aiden was quick to capitalise, chopping at the wolf before it could recover.

Two arrows appeared in the side of the wolf in quick succession, serving only to anger it further as it sought to find a way past the shield. As Aiden stumbled backwards, one of the other wolves appeared from behind and lunged at the wounded beast, latching on with its powerful jaws and tearing away at flesh and bone. Aiden whirled around to see that Maggie was on her feet again, sporting a number of long scratches across her face.

"I was able to convince her that we're her friends," Maggie answered the unasked question as she raised her crystal and began whispering another prayer. Turning to Sir William, Aiden saw that the knight continuing to spar with the dire bear. Numerous cuts and long gashes were visible along the bear's flank as Bastion charged past, allowing Sir William to deliver broad swings at the beast and move out of range before it could respond.

The bear appeared to be a fast learner, however. As the knight came around for another pass, it reached out and swiped at him. Its talons scraped along his shield, narrowly missing Sir William's body.

Aiden was momentarily distracted by a cry from Ronan, who was running from the last of the wolves. In desperation, he ran straight at one of the nearby trees and continued to run directly up the side, his enchanted boots ensuring a steady grip on the vertical surface. The wolf saw what was happening and lunged at the sailor, grabbing his longcoat in its jaws just before he passed out of range.

Aiden bolted forward as fast as conditions would allow, sword at the ready. As the wolf thrashed about, Aiden stabbed it in the flank with his blade. As it howled in pain and turned about to attack him, Aiden recovered from his strike and slashed across the dire wolf's jaw, shattering tooth and bone. The crippled wolf whimpered and thrashed about, so Aiden grimly raised his sword high and drove the point into its skull to end its suffering.

"Focus on the bear," he called up to a much-relieved Ronan, who found a decent perch in the tree, and levelled his bow at the monstrous beast. Maggie watched carefully as Thorn wrestled with the pack leader in a vicious tumble of white and grey fur. Both animals were covered in welts and gashes, while the wolf Maggie had charmed joined in harassing the great bear.

Titan ignored them all as it lunged at the wolf and clamped its massive jaws around its throat. The wolf yelped in pain as it was held by the bear's immense strength. Its life quickly ended with a sickening crack of its neck.

The bear roared in triumph and reared up on its hind legs, towering over the battlefield with its deadly paws at the ready. Sir William, unperturbed by the sixteen-foot monster looming over him, charged forward and delivered a powerful blow. Anticipating the attack, Titan lashed out with one great paw and delivered a solid hit that knocked Sir William from his saddle into a snowdrift.

"Maggie, we need you!" Aiden called as he hurried forward. A glimmer of armour amidst the snow caught his attention, and he was relieved to see the knight was still moving after the heavy fall.

"We're coming," Maggie called back. Aiden turned to see the druid and her tiger bounding forward. Blood matted Thorn's fine white fur — some of it his, some of it from the pack leader. She landed on the ground near Sir William as the giant bear bellowed, injured, yet still ready to fight. Thorn positioned himself in front of Maggie, growling cautiously as the two beasts sized each other up.

"Bowen! I know you can hear me," Maggie shouted to the forest. "Call him off, or we'll slowly cut your precious pet into ribbons!" There was no reply to her request. A long, tense moment passed before the bear finally uttered a mournful growl and lowered itself to all fours, as it turned and ambled away.

Thorn wasn't having any of that, however. The big cat leaped forward, startling Titan into a run with the tiger in close pursuit.

"Nice move," Aiden complimented Maggie.

"That was a gamble, but it paid off," she replied as she went to Sir William's side. The knight slowly sat upright, clutching at his right shoulder in pain.

"He packed quite a wallop," the old knight complained, his voice tense with the strain. "I hope you won't think less of me if I pray we never encounter his like again."

"That'd be just fine by me," Ronan agreed, retrieving arrows from the field.

"It's a minor wound, I can fix that," Maggie surmised after a quick examination.

"It's nothing, I've had worse," Sir William responded with a shrug, as Bastion trotted over to his side and nuzzled him fondly. The ground began to shake from a tremor at that moment, and a wall of ice rapidly emerged out of the ground, rising twenty feet above them. The wall curved around, and although the top remained open, they were effectively sealed into a prison of ice several feet thick.

"Well played, Bowen," Maggie murmured to herself, her shoulders sagging in defeat.

Chapter Nine

There was an undercurrent of tension in the air as Tosh led Pacian and the others through the upper level streets of Stonegaard. More than once he was jostled by a passing dwarf, or shouted at from a nearby street vendor. When asked to translate, Tosh explained that most of the shouts were supporting the uprising, to which Pacian and the ladies were associated.

The squad of soldiers around them kept a sharp eye out for potential threats. Despite the outspoken opinions of the population, nobody was attempting to kill them or stop their transgression. When a scuffle broke out near one of the shops lining the boulevard, Tosh quickly diverted them down a side street and around the commotion.

Eventually, they reached a broad staircase leading downwards, and pushed their way through the throng. The air was laden with the unique aromas of a bustling city, compounded by the enclosed design. While there had been some humans visible walking around upstairs, there were only dwarves on the second level for as far as the eye could see. The ceilings were around five feet in height, and Valennia had to stoop to avoid banging her head on the supports.

"No wonder these people are so short," she muttered, "look how low this ceiling is." Pacian was tempted to explain how such things actually worked, but decided it wasn't worth the trouble. Despite this, the street was as broad as the one above, and in no way felt confining to Pacian as they continued along.

Presently, they arrived at a squat building carved out of the surrounding stone, braced by columns and with a wide, sweeping entrance. Half a dozen guards stood out front, encased in the magnificent plate armour Pacian and bearing weapons that shone with the tell-tale properties of vythir. Colourful banners were draped above the door, depicting the heraldic symbols of dwarven clans. One of them was more prominent than the others — most likely the banner of clan MacTavish.

"This be the halls o' the king," Tosh explained. "I'll leave me lads out here, while we head in to speak with King Sulinus." The sergeant barked out a few orders to his men, and then gestured for the ladies to head in first. Before they could pass through the great doors, the guards gave them a quick check to ensure they were not carrying weapons. When Pacian tried to breeze past they had no hesitation about checking him from head to toe.

"Bloody hell, this one's bristling with knives," one of the guards muttered as he pulled weapon after weapon out of Pacian's leathers and dropped them to the ground. Tosh and the ladies glared at him accusingly, to which he replied with a casual shrug.

After he'd been relieved of his weapons, they were allowed inside. Valennia fell into step alongside Pacian, and had a few words of wisdom for him.

"If you had given me your knives, I could have hid them on my body," she whispered. "The men of your cities are reluctant to search a woman."

"I wish I'd thought of that," Pacian sighed, feeling naked without his blades. The great hall opened up before him, leading to a raised podium on which stood a heavy throne, gleaming in the light of crackling braziers. Stout columns lined the carpeted length of the room, rising up to a ceiling much higher than the rest of the level.

Along the walls were huge swords, polearms and hammers, hung in places of glory, with tapestries depicting great events in the city's history draped above. As yet, only half a dozen hung in place, a sign of the city's youth in the grand scheme of the world.

Upon the shining throne sat a burly dwarf with a neatly groomed beard and a subtle crown of gold and vythir, probably not worth much more than a small city. A gathering of well-dressed dwarves were in the midst of a discussion, as the small contingent approached the throne. Though their voices were hushed and their language foreign, Pacian could tell by the sharpness of their tone that it was not a pleasant chat.

The king noticed their approach and with a wave of his hand, the small group dispersed to stand on either side of the aisle. One of them, the familiar figure of the chamberlain, came forwards to offer his greetings.

"Nellise, it is good to see you again," he offered diplomatically. "May I present His Majesty King Sulinus MacTavish, first of his name, Thane o' the dwarven clans and ruler of Stonegaard. Your Majesty, this is Nellise Sannemann, emissary o' the Kingdom of Aielund, and her entourage."

"I am honoured to be in your presence, Majesty," Nellise said, with a delicate curtsy to the king. Sulinus had an iron grey beard and soft features, though his face was lined with wrinkles. His eyes, however, had the look of someone who had fought hard to get where he was in life, and their uncompromising glare didn't fill Pacian with promise.

"I don't have much patience with formalities at the moment, Your Excellency," Sulinus rumbled with a deep baritone. His words were much less accented than the others, suggesting he was well educated and possibly spent a lot of time in Aielund. "So, you can keep yer fancy words to yerself."

"As you wish, Majesty," Nellise replied without any less respect and deference in her voice.

"We were concerned when the ambassador from Aielund was withdrawn a few weeks ago," Sulinus went on, leaning forward on his throne. "No reason was given, which could have been poorly interpreted by my people."

"I was informed by Her Highness that the ambassador's services were required elsewhere," Nellise responded. "She did not inform me of the exact details, however."

"I see," Sulinus grumbled, stroking his beard thoughtfully for a moment. "Well then, let's get straight to business. Is that the one?" he asked, pointing at Sayana.

"She wields Thanesedge, if that's what you're asking," Nellise said.

"You didn't bring it with you, I take it?"

"We thought it best to leave it in a secure place," Sayana piped up, her voice quivering a little at being the centre of attention. "We have been accosted once already by throngs of your people."

"Probably a smart move," the king mused aloud, glancing at some of his advisors. "I'll be blunt, Miss Sannemann — I want the axe. My rule hasn't been the smoothest in the past few decades, as questions as to my legitimacy have never been fully answered. A symbol of the old Kingdom would go a long way towards quelling dissent, and given the political climate in the region, stability is priceless. So as a favour to myself, and my Kingdom, I would ask that you relinquish the weapon."

"We came here with a specific mission," Nellise replied in a measured voice. "We seek the Sceptre of Oblivion, thought to have been in the vaults of Ferrumgaard—"

"I know why you came," Sulinus interrupted, raising his hand. "Like most relics, it is thought to have been left behind during the exodus."

"I would appreciate if you could confirm its whereabouts," Nellise pressed, "as we agreed to assist in the assault on the dragon Azurefang in exchange for the sceptre. We fulfilled our duty, and now it falls to you to carry out yours."

"The dragon still lives!" barked one of the king's advisors, an ancient dwarf with a bald pate and sunken features. "Through poor leadership and cowardice, the beast still threatens our trade routes and dozens of our warriors lie dead, yet you expect your payment still?"

"Hey, that was the deal!" Pacian said, speaking up for the first time. "We never promised to actually kill the damn thing, only to help in the fight. It's not our fault the bloody thing is an unstoppable demon from hell."

"No dragon, no sceptre," the official grunted with finality. "Even if we have it, why would we just hand over such a powerful weapon? I propose we conduct a thorough search of our records to locate the relic, and then use it ourselves against the dragon."

"And what army are ye going to send against it this time?" shouted another dwarf, sporting a red beard and a sour disposition. "Ye've already called in yer favours, and if ya think yer getting' a single soldier from the MacLean's, yer daft." The surrounding counsellors all started shouting at once, mostly in the dwarven tongue.

King Sulinus called for order, but was ignored by everyone. He sat back in his throne, watching helplessly as the bickering rivalries amongst his people took control. Pacian wasn't an expert on leadership, but he was fairly certain that a king should be able to command some form of respect from his people.

Nellise gave Pacian a knowing look, to which he just shook his head helplessly. Tosh seemed equally unimpressed, and his earlier hesitation regarding his support for the king now made sense. Sayana was trying to say something but couldn't be heard over the shouting. Valennia saw this, and let out a hoarse shout that silenced the argument for a moment.

"My sister has something to say, and you will listen to her words!" she roared at an impressive volume.

"If you want the axe, you can have it," Sayana said quietly. "I want no more part of this chaos." The dwarves remained silent, looking to their king for his response.

"Thank you," he said respectfully. "You have no idea how important it is to me at this time. You have my leave to go and retrieve the weapon. Sergeant MacIntosh, see to her safety and that of the relic."

"Aye, yer Majesty," Tosh replied stiffly, bowing low. He gestured to the door, and after Nellise had curtsied politely, they headed back down the hallway to the great doors, as the sounds of renewed discussion erupted from behind them.

"Are you sure about this?" Pacian asked Sayana once they were out of earshot.

"We need the sceptre, right?" she shrugged. "Besides, I may be new to civilisation, but even I can see that this place is going to fall apart without solid leadership. Better this king than another, I figure."

Pacian retrieved his knives from the suspicious guards outside the royal hall, and then they quickly made their way back to the inn. With luck, they could hand over Thanesedge and get some answers about the sceptre before the end of tomorrow, and then head back to Fairloch.

By the time they entered the common room of the Rockslide, the place was bustling with the evening crowd. Pacian was looking forward to a lazy night by the fire and decided he wouldn't bother going back to see Sayana hand the axe over to Sulinus. Unfortunately, fate had something else in store for him that night.

"Where are our weapons?" Valennia demanded upon viewing their empty chamber. A feeling of dread welled up in Pacian's stomach, and he quickly made his way across the room to shift the brick that would open the secret compartment. Although he was a little far away to see it, the gasps he heard from Nellise and Sayana told him all he needed to know.

"I thought you said this place was safe, Tosh?" Pacian growled at the burly sergeant as he came inside to check it out. He spat a few choice curses, but even Nellise didn't seem to care.

"I told ya that we didn't know the layout of this room," he barked.

"Well someone did," Pacian shot back, outraged at the theft. "You left a man outside the door, and there's no other way in — what the hell was he doing, counting sheep?"

"Nobody came through, I swear it," the guard said emphatically.

"Assuming you weren't paid off," Pacian muttered. Tosh glared up at him, eye to eye. Despite the difference in height, the dwarf was not intimidated in the least.

"Ya want to think twice before accusing me men of being traitors," he growled threateningly. "We all owe ye our lives — do ya think any of us'd repay ya with treachery?"

"Of course not," Nellise chimed in, giving Pacian a meaningful look.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it," he relented, taking a deep breath as he tried to focus. "If the axe hadn't been safely hidden, we might have assumed it was an ordinary burglary. Whoever managed to get into the room undetected knew about the secret compartment, which suggests a professional thief, someone who has lived in the city for years." An idea leaped unbidden into his mind.

"Sloane MacAliese," Pacian said aloud. "She's a pro so there's a good chance she'd know about the secrets of this room. And I saw her talking with Old Hamish a few days ago, so she probably took the axe for him. The rest of our gear was just icing on the cake." There was a crash as Valennia smashed a glass out of frustration and anger.

"Thieving wretch!" she bellowed in her hoarse voice.

"Bit of a stretch there, lad," Tosh remarked, eyeing the towering akoran warily. "And that doesn't explain how she got in and out of here in the first place." Pacian ran a hand through his hair and tried to think of how he would do it.

"Did anything odd happen while we were gone?" he asked of the guard who had watched over the door during their absence.

"Odd? Not really," he replied, tugging his short beard thoughtfully. "An older lady dropped her luggage as she was trying to open the door to her room just down the hall and I went to help..." Pacian stared at the soldier, who suddenly realised his mistake. "I was only away from the door for a few moments!" he exclaimed.

"More than enough time for someone to get in or out," Pacian groaned.

"Ya daft bugger!" Tosh roared. "Was she a longshanks, or one of us?"

"A dwarven lass," the solider confirmed, his head hanging low.

"And why would one of our kin be stayin' at an inn made for humans?" Tosh yelled. "Did ya even think o' that?" The solider didn't reply, but stood to attention as his face flushed red.

"Did this happen once, or twice?" Nellise asked as Pacian stared daggers at the guard.

"Aye ma'am, just that one time, shortly after ya left."

"Then if that's how the thief got in, how did she get out again?" Nellise wondered. Pacian blinked in sudden realisation.

"Check the closets," he ordered, immediately turning to check all possible places where someone could hide. Everyone began to search the room in a frenzy, turning over the beds and spilling the contents of all the cupboards and wardrobes onto the floor. After nearly ten minutes of fruitless searching, Pacian gave up and sat on the bed, despondent and tired from the long day.

"I need a drink," he sighed, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. "If you have any stunning revelations, you'll know where to find me."

"I better go tell the king what's happened," Tosh grumbled as Pacian moved to the door. "They'll be wonderin' where we are, and it's best not to keep 'em waiting." The two of them left the room, closing the door quietly as they headed towards the bustling noise of the common room. Just before they reached it, Tosh caught Pacian's attention with a quick nudge to the ribs.

"I'm sorry about the mess," he mumbled. "After what ya did for me and mine, this is a poor way to repay you. I'll have strong words with Private Lachlan later on, but for now, I want to give ya this." The sergeant pulled a dagger out of his belt. It shined brightly, even in the dim light of the corridor, with flowing lines etched along the length of the blade, and a dark gemstone embedded in the pommel. Pacian had seen enough of Sayana's axe to know that the dagger was made out of vythir, and was probably worth a small fortune.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but are you sure you want to part with it?" Pacian breathed, taking the dagger and marvelling at its perfect balance.

"Ye saved me life," Tosh replied simply. "This dagger has been in me family for three centuries, and truth be told, it doesn't get used much. I was to pass it to me son, but he's an ungrateful bastard who'd just sell it and live like a king. I think you'd put it to good use mate and honestly, it's the least I can do. Take it."

"You're a scholar and a gentleman," Pacian said with a grin as he accepted the blade, twirling it in his hand a couple of times to gain a feel for it before sliding it into his empty sheath. "I promise to use it in the cause of justice, always."

"Why do I get the feelin' your version of justice is a bit bloodier than mine," Tosh inquired with a squint.

"Because, Tosh old friend, you're not a complete idiot," Pacian laughed, slapping him on the back as they went into the common room.

"Alright, I'll be back in an hour or so, depending on how badly they take the news," Tosh advised, shaking Pacian's hand. "Stay sober — ya might have to leave here first thing tomorrow, and quickly, if ya get my meaning."

"I'll be discreet," Pacian assured him as he headed to the bar. The room was still quite crowded, so Pacian pulled up a stool and ordered a local ale. He drank half the mug in one go and wiped the foam from around his mouth as warmth started to spread through his body. Feeling more relaxed, he turned to glance at the crowd, and almost instantly fixated on a familiar face.

Sloane MacAliese sat at a small table across the room, by herself, gazing at Pacian with a blank expression. A cold rage fell over him, a silent promise of death in his eyes as he checked around the room in case she had brought friends with her. He didn't sense that anyone here was an immediate threat, but Pacian was dealing with professional crooks and probably wouldn't have been able to spot them if he tried.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Pacian swaggered across the room and sat at the small table across from Sloane, who favoured him with a cold smile. Although he couldn't see any weapons, he assumed she was well armed, and at least one of the nearby dwarves was an ally of hers. He had to play this smart.

"Did you steal our bloody axe?" he blurted angrily.

"Of course not," Sloane replied, raising an eyebrow in surprise at his directness. "Ye can't steal what's already yers."

"I don't recall seeing you in Ferrumgaard," Pacian said with a healthy dose of sarcasm. "I'm sure I would have recognised you."

"Me father spent years trying to find that axe, and then one day ya show up with it, claiming to be his friends, and oh by the way, he happens to be dead!" Sloane accused. "Bloody convenient if ya ask me."

"I didn't kill your father," Pacian objected in a hushed voice, glancing around to make sure he didn't have an audience. "He was eaten by a giant snake. He dropped the axe, and it would have been a shame to just leave it there." Sloane leaned across the table and stared Pacian right in the eye.

"How can I possibly know that?" she asked plainly, her dark eyes glinting. "Ye have nothing but yer word to back ye up, and I know what kind o' man ya are."

"If you've got a problem with my story, go and have a word with the snake."

"I don't need to anymore," she answered with a shrug, leaning back in her seat. "What's done is done. Father gave his life trying to recover it, and now the thing is truly where it belongs." Pacian looked at her shrewdly for a long moment, trying to discern her meaning. He really was tired, and the ale wasn't helping his thought processes either.

"I'm guessing you didn't give it to the king," he drawled. "So, I reckon you're supporting Old Hamish's claim to the throne, since they're the only two options."

"Ya know, I didna really care much for politics before a few days ago," Sloane answered casually, sipping from a tall glass. "Hamish has always been a loud bugger, bleating on about how the MacTavish's exploited people scared after the fall of Ferrumgaard, stealing the throne from the MacAlieses. He still reckons that Aielund gave us this place within their borders, just so we could do all their mining for them."

"Dad grew up hearing all that of course, and it went right to 'is head. He badly wanted to knock Sulinus off the throne and he was obsessed with that axe... but now he's dead, and for all I know, yer the one that killed him. Hell, the tall pretty one has his bloody crossbow! You might as well be parading around with his skull on your head, like a hat."

"I wish I could convince you otherwise, but I get the impression your mind is made up," Pacian remarked ominously. "Are you going to give it back, or not?"

"'Tisn't my axe now," Sloane shrugged, calming down again. "It belongs to the real king o' the dwarves, so ye'll have to take it up with 'im."

"Fine, take me to him and I'll we'll have a nice chat, perhaps over tea and scones," Pacian growled. Sloane laughed, and it wasn't anything to do with the scone reference.

"Ye'd best take your ladies and head back home," Sloane advised, finishing her drink in one gulp and getting up to leave. "Yer in over yer head, Blondie, and things just get uglier from here on out. But thanks for bringing the axe with ya." Pacian toyed with his mug idly, watching her depart with a sly smile on her full lips. He appeared to be defeated as he sat, sipping his drink waiting for her friends to leave. Within a few seconds, two burly dwarven men at the table across from him sidled into the crowd, leaving him to his misery.

Or so they thought. The moment he was no longer under observation, Pacian immediately detached his cloak and exchanged it with one draped over the table behind him. Its owner was engaged in a conversation with an attractive dwarven woman, unaware of the switch. Pacian clasped it around his neck and left the table with the hood of the grey cloak covering his distinctive hair. He kept his knees bent so his height wouldn't betray his presence, and moved to the door.

Carefully checking the stairwell, Pacian descended silently, using all the strength in his legs to soften his steps. At the bottom, he inched forward carefully, uncertain if anyone would be watching the street entrance.

The thoroughfare was all but deserted now, with only a few lanterns providing dim light for the vast hall. A flicker of movement down the street caught Pacian's eye, and he recognised Sloane from the subtle sway of her dress as she walked. Of her two companions there was no sign, though Pacian knew they were here somewhere.

Needing an edge in the dark conditions, he reached into a pouch and withdrew a pair of magical goggles Aiden had given him. As soon as he put them on, the street became visible to him in shades of grey. The columns and balconies lining the main street were obvious to him now, and he moved forward with confidence.

Pacian had more than his eyes working in his favour however, for his ears pricked up as he heard the shifting of feet on stone from close by. Freezing in place, he slowly reached into a pouch and pulled out a small stone. Aiming carefully, he threw it further along the street. It skittered across the stone with a sharp clacking noise that to Pacian's sharpened senses sounded like an avalanche in the cold, empty street.

All feelings of fatigue fled from his body as his heartbeat raced, thudding loudly in his ears. Pacian controlled the adrenaline surging within and held still, waiting for his mysterious opponent to make a mistake. A stout, heavily-cloaked figure emerged only a few yards ahead. He held a dagger in one hand as he crept forward. Creeping up behind him, Pacian placed a hand over the dwarf's mouth and ran Tosh's vythiric dagger across his throat.

The dwarf thrashed around a little, but Pacian's hands clamped down tightly, preventing a single noise escaping. After the body went limp, he dragged it into a small alcove and placed it quietly onto the ground. A heavy hand suddenly clamped over his mouth, and Pacian knew instantly that the other of Sloane's associates had spotted him.

The dwarf's hands were strong, and Pacian futilely struggled against his iron grip for a long moment. Unable to get the thick fingers away from his face, he changed tactics and brought his heel up between his opponent's legs with all the strength he could muster. A wheezing sound signalled a direct hit, and the hands released their grip.

Pacian whirled around, smashing his elbow into the side of the dwarf's head and then slashing across his back with Tosh's dagger. As the thug staggered on his feet, Pacian stayed on the attack, slamming his knee up into the dwarf's concealed face, shattering his nose.

Needing to finish this quickly, Pacian stabbed the thug in the back again and again, dropping the stout bastard in a pool of his own blood. Pacian paused for a moment to catch his breath before dragging the body over to his fallen friend. If this was the quality of their enforcers, Pacian didn't have much to worry about.

Realising the delay might cause him to lose track of Sloane, he set stealth aside and rushed down the street, searching left and right for signs of her passing. Although it was possible for her to have entered any of the closed shops along the thoroughfare, his instincts told him she had gone deeper — thieves and scoundrels did not exist close to the surface of any city, even an underground one.

As Pacian headed to the great staircase leading down to the lower level, he instinctively avoided a pair of patrolling guardsmen. Hiding behind a column until they disappeared from sight, he then hurried down the stairs to continue his pursuit. When he reached the bottom, he spied a figure at the very edge of his vision, stepping through a door down the street. Hoping he'd managed to catch a glimpse of Sloane in the nick of time, Pacian made his way there as quickly as possible.

The low ceiling wasn't a problem as he crept along, keeping to the more covered areas near the shopfronts. Another pair of passing guards froze him in place for the better part of a minute and, he silently chafed at the delay. After they finally sauntered past, Pacian made a quick dash for the door and was not surprised to find it locked. Nearby lanterns shed enough light to read the sign, even without his goggles — the small board nailed to the front door declared this to be a candle-maker's shop.

Certain that it was the one he had seen Sloane use, he took out his lock-picks and set to work. It was unusual to do this in the grey half-light the enchanted lenses provided, but Pacian was nothing if not adaptable. Within moments, the lock was open and he crept inside, pleased that the well-oiled hinge made no sound on his way through.

Inside was a typical shopfront, with a long bench dividing the customers from the staff, and long shelves lining the walls were crowded with candles and lanterns of all sizes. There was no sign of anyone in here, and a quick check through the place showed no other doors or windows.

Pacian hesitated, beginning to doubt if he had the correct shop, and briefly contemplated trying the place next door. Time was against him however, and his gut told him he had the right place — he just needed to search a little harder. A secret organisation of thieves operating within the confines of an underground city could probably have a whole network of separate tunnels dug into the rock.

He began searching through the place again, this time checking the walls carefully for the slightest hint of a concealed door. His patience was rewarded when he discovered a slight flaw in the stonework — a small bump that, when pressed, caused a part of the rear wall to slide open.

Inside was a stairwell, winding down into the darkness. Pacian was about to take the first step when he noticed the stonework was slightly raised in the middle. He froze, foot hanging in mid-air as he contemplated the possibility that the entrance was somehow trapped. It was tempting to simply jump over the offending stair, but that seemed too easy.

Retracting his foot, he gazed down at the stairs and noticed the same raised profile on all that he could see — the entire stairwell was trapped. Pacian leaned against the wall, overwhelmed by the prospect of trying to get through. Then, it occurred to him that they might have a single disabling mechanism, otherwise using the stairs on a daily basis would be a blinding headache.

Once again, he examined the walls and floor, seeking a hidden lever. His efforts proved fruitless, and his tired mind was starting to slow down after the burst of the earlier fight. Scratching at his chin, he happened to glance up at the low ceiling, only inches above his head, and noticed a small alcove that was barely visible, even with his goggles.

Reaching up with one hand, his fingers wrapped around a latch and pushed it in with one quick movement. The sound of gears grinding could be faintly heard, and he saw the trapped stairs lurch slightly as the mechanism was deactivated. Still, his first step was filled with trepidation. His mind second guessed his choices, yet when his foot touched stone, nothing happened.

Taking a deep breath, Pacian started down the spiralling stairs, descending into the earth. By the time he reached the bottom, he guessed he was more than a hundred and fifty feet below the second level of Stonegaard. The stonework on the walls and floor was very primitive, as if the place had not been properly finished yet. An open door led off from the stairwell, into a craggy and undulating passage.

More cautious than ever, Pacian crept along the tunnel. The air was warm, and a constant background rumble was felt more than heard as he traversed the unfinished sections of the city. He had no idea if Sloane had come this far, or if he'd missed yet another secret passage.

From ahead, the faint echoing sounds of someone shouting could be heard, along with a strange roaring sound. Unused to the subterranean surroundings, Pacian wasn't able to figure out what it could be. As he closed in on the source, the sounds became more distinct, easily identifiable as dwarven voices.

The passage opened up more as he went, until a vast cavern lay before him. The heat here was intense, and the sulphuric smell was powerful. Warm light from nearby lit the chamber in a hellish glow, enough so Pacian could remove his goggles.

Nearly a hundred dwarves gathered around a central figure, who stood upon a raised stone in their midst. Old Hamish was reciting some sort of speech in his native tongue to the surrounding crowd. To one side stood Sloane, cheering on the crowd who roared at the end of each sentence, and on the other a solemn, silent figure in a hooded robe, carrying a tall staff.

Pacian ducked down behind a rock, just in case he was spotted, and continued to observe. He wished he had taken the time to learn at least a little of the rough dwarfish language, for what was happening before him seemed to be of great importance. Even without a command of the local language, Pacian knew a rebellion when he saw it. What made him gape in disbelief however, was the nature of the audience.

He had thought them local dwarven men for the most part, but upon closer examination, they bore a strange familiarity with another group of the short folk he had encountered not long in the past. With the goggles on, he would never have spotted this, but the pale white hair and skin of the bearded folk was exactly the same as the MacAliese clan of Ferrumgaard.

How they had arrived here, deep within the heart of Stonegaard was a mystery, but there was no denying the presence of the insane denizens of the fallen city. Pacian's suspicions were confirmed moments later when Hamish finished his rallying cry and raised Thanesedge high above his head. The cavern reverberated with the deep roar of the crowd — 'Thane MacAliese! Thane MacAliese!'

Chapter Ten

Aiden stood amidst his companions, feeling the intense cold of the ice wall surrounding them. Beyond, the faint sound of the chanting druids could be heard, carrying out their plans to destroy Amalis with impunity.

"Maybe we can bash our way through," Aiden muttered, trying to figure a way of circumventing the huge wall.

"It's two feet thick, Aiden," Maggie advised. "We could eventually get through, but not in time to help the city."

"Can't you melt it or something?" Aiden asked, examining the wall closely.

"Not while Bowen is maintaining his concentration," the raelani druid explained. "If we can knock him out, I'll be able to get us free. Trouble is, he's on the other side."

"I think someone's coming," Ronan hissed, peering at the wall. Maggie fell silent while Aiden looked closely. Through the ice he could see a dark shape, the shadow of someone on the other side. A small hole melted away from the wall, no more than a few inches in diameter. Through this, the voice of a man could be heard speaking to them.

"You shouldn't have come back, Margaret," he said. Maggie brought a finger to her lips, indicating the others should remain silent.

"Bowen, you're sounding healthy," she called, moving closer to the hole. "You should get back to the conclave — surely the others won't be able to destroy the city without your aid."

"You are still ignorant of our power, even after all the time you spent with us," Bowen chastised her. "The others are more than capable of dealing with that blight on the landscape, thanks to the aid of our enlightened leader. With his wisdom and guidance, there is much we can achieve. This world can be brought into harmony with nature, if we but follow his glorious example."

"So, you've installed a new arch druid," Maggie remarked with false interest. "Perhaps I was wrong to argue with the order."

"Don't try and convince me you've had a change of heart," Bowen scolded. "Do you really think so little of me?"

"You're right, I haven't changed my mind," Maggie retorted. "I want to speak with your new leader. Did you appoint Eoghan, or someone else? Johnathon? No? Perhaps Bailey?"

"You've never met him before, but I might introduce you after I have dispensed with your associates," Bowen finally answered. Maggie's brow furrowed slightly.

"So, someone from outside the conclave? Now that is interesting. Frankly, I'm surprised it wasn't you. You were never shy about speaking of your ambitions, Bowen."

"I am but a humble servant of nature," Bowen replied smoothly, although Aiden could sense his towering ego behind those words. "Feybourne is the centre of his power, and with his aid we can finally stop the relentless march of civilisation."

"I'm interested in a meeting," Maggie answered, pointing at Ronan and then gesturing to the wall. The sailor gestured to the shadow of Bowen through the ice and made a slicing gesture across his throat, to which she nodded slowly. She continued to speak while Ronan began to walk up the wall of ice with his enchanted boots, cautiously at first but with greater confidence with each passing moment.

"Why bring in an outsider to rule over you?" Maggie asked. "Our order has always been self-sufficient."

"Oh, but he's not an outsider at all," Bowen responded smugly. "That's why he has so much power — he has been here all along, soaking in the power of the earth. We simply needed to open our minds to him."

Aiden was only half-listening to the druid's rant, for his eyes were fixed on Ronan's ascent. The sailor had his short bow nocked and ready, and as soon as he reached the lip, over four yards in the air, he leaned over the edge and drew back an arrow. He looked to Maggie briefly for final confirmation.

"I'm sorry, but the Bowen I knew would never hand power over to anyone else," she grimly said through the hole, ending their little verbal joust. "He would never send our beloved animal friends in to do his dirty work, and he wouldn't try to destroy a city. I don't know what's happened to you and the others, but I can hear in your voice that you're too far gone to care." She nodded to Ronan, who steadied his aim and loosed the arrow.

A meaty thwack could be heard through the hole as the arrow struck true, and the shadow on the other side collapsed. The sound of a tiger's roar could be heard, followed by a second hit as Ronan finished the job.

"I tried," Maggie whispered, crestfallen for a moment before focusing on their task once more. She raised her hands to the sky and closed her eyes in prayer.

"Aiden, help me up," Sir William requested, as the clouds above them began to swirl and clear. A shaft of brilliant sunlight streamed around them while Aiden helped the old knight to his feet, and then assisted him while he climbed onto Bastion's saddle.

The shaft of light intensified, centred on a single part of the wall. Water began running from the surface and Ronan quickly skidded back down to the ground as the wall of ice began to thin with alarming speed. Bastion snorted impatiently, the warhorse sensing the tension in the group.

"We need only to drop a few of them to prevent the ceremony," Maggie whispered, her concentration focused upon her task. "They will be weakened from the ritual. If we can drive them off, we can head straight to Feybourne. It's this new leader we need to eliminate if we want to end this threat."

"Follow me when I charge into their ranks," Sir William ordered. "I will scatter their numbers, giving you a clear run." Torrents of steam gushed forth from the immense wall, and the ground underfoot was becoming a swampy morass. As soon as a large enough gap opened, Sir William put the spurs to Bastion and led the charge, emerging from the intense light like an avenging angel.

The mighty warhorse churned the snow as the knight guided him through the trees. Aiden hurried forward, his heart racing as he went into battle once more, struggling to keep up with the horse through the slippery conditions underfoot. He passed by the remains of Bowen and saw Thorn sitting nearby, awaiting Maggie as she struggled through water that came up to her thighs.

The thunder of Bastion's hooves could be heard through the mist wafting over the landscape as they entered a clearing in the swamplands. As he moved closer, Aiden saw Sir William had charged straight into a group of men and women in heavy winter clothing, trampling one of them and disrupting the ceremony as they scattered.

"Make for Feybourne!" Maggie called, rushing past on Thorn's back.

Ronan and Aiden ran as fast as they could through the enemy lines, noting with satisfaction the dozen druids appeared to be stunned at the disruption of their ceremony. Without stopping for a closer look, they pressed on through the wintery conditions, following the trail left by the others.

The raelani druid led them around the pockets of frozen water in the dreary swamp, while Sir William circled around to the rear of their group, craning his neck to spot any sign of pursuit. The bewildered shouts and cries of the druids began to recede into the distance a little, but it was clear they were in pursuit.

"I will keep them busy and buy you time to run," Sir William replied stiffly, lifting his visor to take in the scene.

Aiden gritted his teeth and focused on running, for the only other option was to turn and face the pursuing druids. If Maggie was right, taking down their "enlightened one" would be enough to dissuade them from further conflict, and he could only hope they could make it to the ruined city before the druids caught up.

They ran for almost half an hour and Aiden's legs were almost numb, but still the sound of pursuit lingered in the air. More than once Sir William turned Bastion about and harassed the closest of the druids, returning minutes later with blood on his blade.

The sad trees increased in frequency as the journey wore on, and soon they were forced to slow down and thread their way through the ever-thickening obstructions. Aiden was focused on following the distant figure of Maggie, until he felt a sudden wave of cold surge over his body.

The sudden cold came as a shock, and it was with mounting terror Aiden realised he'd strayed into a small, frozen pond. He gasped loudly and splashed about a bit before gaining a foothold on the spongy ground under the water. He scrambled out of the pool on his hands and knees, soaking wet and shivering.

Although he hadn't really noticed the breeze before, the wind drifting across his wet clothes made him shake uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around his body and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Aiden recalled what it was like emerging from the cold waters of Ferrumgaard and how close they'd came to losing some toes. He did not wish to repeat that experience.

"Are you alright, mate?" Ronan asked, falling in alongside Aiden.

"T-Took a t-tumble into some w-water," he replied through teeth chattering.

"Saw that," Ronan remarked. "Just keep moving and you'll warm up eventually, okay?" Aiden nodded, and the two of them continued on through the swamp, the sailor lending him a hand whenever the going became rough.

His boots were soaked through and freezing over rapidly, along with Aiden's feet. He couldn't even feel them anymore, and silently feared he would be stricken with frostbite if he didn't warm up soon. The occasional clash of steel and thunder from behind reminded him that their enemies were still in pursuit, so pausing for to dry out was impossible.

Shortly thereafter, Aiden finally laid eyes upon the shattered remains of the city of Feybourne. The swamp had reclaimed most of the lands stretching out before them, but ancient columns and ruined buildings rose up amidst the surrounding flora. Only the highest of buildings could still be seen above the decay, for the land had sunk deep into the earth.

Maggie, astride Thorn, awaited them in the waning light upon the rise. When Maggie slid off his back, the tiger slumped to the ground, panting heavily from the journey. Within moments Sir William had caught up to them as well. Bastion was lathered in sweat in spite of the cold, and Sir William himself dismounted awkwardly, landing heavily on the ground and leaning against a nearby tree.

"How are you holding up?" Ronan asked the old knight. Of the four of them, only he seemed to have made it through their journey unscathed.

"I've seen better days," Sir William replied, his voice cracking with strain. "I'm afraid Bastion is played out," he added, stroking the side of the warhorse with concern. "He gave a good account of himself over the past few hours, though. I couldn't have asked for more. I know you wished to avoid bloodshed, yet I was forced to kill three of your order, Maggie. I can only tell you it was necessary, for they are relentless.

"I cannot explain their fanatic desires," Maggie wearily expressed as she inspected Aiden. "It is as if they are being driven to extremes by a powerful force. I am beginning to wonder who this leader of theirs really is."

The fast-paced journey had dried Aiden somewhat, yet his feet were still numb, and he had a splitting headache threatening to make his head explode. He slumped to the ground with his back against a tree and pulled off his boots, which were encrusted with ice.

"Frostbite," Maggie surmised after a quick inspection. Glancing down at his feet, Aiden could see large blisters forming on his toes.

"Can you fix them?" he asked in a whispering voice.

"Not while you're wearing those boots," she sighed. "We need to start a fire and dry you out properly or anything I do will be neutralised by the cold."

"I'm afraid we don't have time for any of that," Sir William advised. "Our enemies are not far behind us, and we are in neither the condition nor the ideal location to repel them."

"The entrance to the old city lies just below us," Maggie said. "Their new leader has to be in there somewhere, though it may have been short-sighted of me to think we could get to him without hurting the others. Let's find a good place to confront them before they catch up." Aiden couldn't help but groan as he was forced to pull on his cold boots once more, hoping against hope that he would soon have his toes treated before they fell off. Even though Maggie could regrow limbs and presumably other extremities, he didn't relish the thought.

Sir William and the raelani woman coaxed their exhausted mounts back on their feet and walked them down along a narrow path towards the city, with Ronan helping Aiden to walk. Within a few minutes, the frozen ground took on a more solid appearance, and ancient flagstones could be seen here and there through the blanket of white as they entered Feybourne.

A large, broken archway soared overhead as they moved into the remains of the main street, the stonework cracked and crumbling. The road was set at an odd angle, forcing them to lean to one side. Crumbling buildings surrounded them as trees and vines, dormant for the winter, loomed through the gaps awaiting the return of warmer weather. The wind caused many of the trees to creak and groan, and snow whipped along the street as they travelled, giving the place a haunted feel.

Maggie seemed to have some idea of where she was going, threading through the streets as quickly as they could manage. She led them into one of the larger ruins with an intact wall offering protection from the winds.

By now, Aiden's feet were no longer numb — they were downright painful. His head felt like it was going to split open, and he found himself shivering uncontrollably.

"Set him down over there," Maggie ordered Ronan, who silently complied. "We can't wait any longer."

"If we do that, your friends will definitely find us," Sir William warned as he led Bastion in and tethered the exhausted horse to the wall.

"Don't think for a minute we were going to get out of this without another fight," the sailor remarked. "We've got three approaches into this building. I'm going to see what we can do to tip the odds in our favour." He checked his gear and went back outside.

Maggie set about starting a fire, using scattered wood from around the building. Within minutes, a crackling flame shed some light in the empty room and Aiden moved closer to thaw out his feet.

Maggie knelt down and gently inspected his feet, her crystal in hand as she whispered a prayer to Nature. Aiden rested his weary head on his elbow and soaked up the meagre warmth from the growing fire, keeping one eye on the doorway in case they had unwanted company. After a minute or so, Maggie put her crystal away and slumped forward.

"I've done what I can," she sighed. "If you keep your feet warm overnight, you will be able to walk tomorrow."

"Thanks again," Aiden responded, genuinely grateful for her ministrations. "I'm not going to be of much use."

"I don't know if there's anything you can do to help, but you always manage to surprise me, Aiden," Maggie remarked as she reluctantly drew her dagger.

"Well, if any of your old friends come in here and kneel down in front of me, I'll do my best to stab them," Aiden assured her. Maggie nodded solemnly as Sir William suddenly went tense, his hand moving to the hilt of his blade.

"Movement," he declared softly, peering out at the deserted street. Maggie trotted over to his side, craning her neck to try and see what he was looking at, when a strangled cry came from somewhere nearby.

Aiden sat upright, unsure what was happening, and reached around to his scroll case for reassurance. At that moment, he noticed there were two other scrolls inside that he'd somehow acquired without knowing. On an impulse, he pulled them out and quickly scanned through the cryptic texts by the light of the fire.

Many of the sigils inscribed upon the parchments were familiar to him, although he'd never actually seen these particular scrolls before. Aiden wracked his brain, trying to think of where he had acquired them, and it dawned on him the only place he'd seen such scrolls recently was at Alain's house. Had the explorer stuffed them into his case as a gift? Aiden was sure it was something he would have mentioned, set aside questions of "how" for the time being as Ronan crept back into their impromptu base.

"You managed to eliminate another one?" Sir William asked in a voice little more than a whisper.

"Set up a razor-sharp wire across the street at neck height," Ronan replied breathlessly. "It wasn't pretty. Finished him off with an arrow, but the rest are coming this way. You two go sit by the fire and look tired. Yeah, just like that," he added after glancing at the two weary adventurers for a moment.

"Why?" Maggie asked, looking up at him.

"They think they're being sneaky, and I want them to believe they are," Ronan explained, after a fashion. "Trust me. After I take out the first one, that'd be a great time to leap into action." Maggie shrugged and followed Sir William over to the fire, where they sat next to Aiden, appearing casually tired but with hands ready upon their weapons.

Ronan silently walked up the wall and held position a few feet above the doorway, an arrow nocked and ready to shoot. Aiden felt his pulse racing as the tension increased. He scanned through both scrolls on the off-chance that they might be useful, and his eyes widened at the implications of what he held in his hand.

"When the fight starts, you're suddenly going to feel a lot stronger," Aiden whispered, drawing curious glances from his friends. One of the scrolls was an incantation of strength, similar to one that he had used weeks ago in the akoran caves. He didn't see the point in waiting further and carefully whispered the words from the parchment, feeling the release of energy surge through his body as it crumbled into ashes.

A few moments later Aiden could feel the strength in his limbs return five-fold. His companion's fatigue was replaced by vibrant strength, as similar feelings of power bolstered their weary limbs. It would only last a few minutes, but that should be enough time for them to convince the remaining druids they were not to be trifled with.

Aiden positioned himself in such a way so he could see the doorway out of the corner of his eye. The light was rapidly fading from the sky, but their fire was large enough to show anyone approaching. For a long moment, the crackling flames were the only sound aside from the wind through the trees. It was then Aiden saw a shadow of movement from the direction of the door and it took an effort to avoid turning for a better look.

Time slowed down as the shadow grew larger in the doorway, and Aiden's heart raced at the closeness of their deadly enemies. Where there was one, there would be others.

"Psst," Ronan suddenly hissed. The interloper looked up at Ronan, his eye staring directly at the business end of his bow. A heartbeat later, the arrow was shot into his brain, killing him instantly. A peal of thunder rolled over the building at that point, prompting Sir William and Maggie to get on their feet and ready themselves for what was to come.

"They're throwing the last of their strength at us," the raelani druid breathed in astonishment as the ancient building shook. Loose stone crumbled from the decaying walls. "Whoever they appointed as their new leader must be nearby, lending their strength to them." An entire wall toppled over to their right, and the cloaked figures of their opponents could be seen just beyond.

"There's nothing we can do about that now," Sir William cried as four druids burst into the room. They were wielding an assortment of staves and clubs, and clad in animal hides and cured leathers.

"Aielund forever!" Sir William cried as he took the brunt of their assault on his shield. Lightning crackled around them as the druids unleashed the power of nature. Arrows flew through the air as Ronan drew down at them from his position high on the wall, doing his best to slow their assault.

Sir William slashed and cut with Solas Aingeal whirling around in the fierce melee, slicing through the thick hides of their foes with ease. He was quickly surrounded, and used all of his skill and supernatural strength to keep them at bay. Aiden felt useless and vulnerable near the fire, and looked around for something that could assist his allies.

Maggie darted in and out of the melee, slashing at the legs of their enemies with her tiny sword. Despite her diminutive size, her strikes carried the power of arcane strength and she knocked down her opponents with each shove.

A heavy blow bypassed Sir William's defences, slamming him on the side of his helmet and stunning him for a brief instant. The old knight responded by slamming his shield into the face of the nearest opponent, then driving Solas Aingeal across the stunned druid's chest with incredible force, slamming him to the ground, dead.

Although he had succeeded in dropping one of the druids, Sir William had left himself open on his right flank and the three others took full advantage of this, bashing at his armour. Sir William fell back from the assault with blood pouring from under his helm. More arrows lashed into the fray, crippling one of the druids and allowing Maggie to step in and drive her sword up into his chest.

Seeking to cut off their approaches, Sir William smashed his shield against a nearby wall. Empowered with arcane strength, the blow was more than sufficient to knock the crumbling wall down. The stones tumbled and crashed, cutting off one entrance to the building.

Aiden pulled out the sceptre and uttered the command word as he sought to distract the druids focusing their attention on Sir William. The beam of brilliant light pierced the darkness and seared one of the druids from head to toe.

A clap of thunder erupted as another druid brought his hands together, causing Aiden to drop the sceptre and cover his ears in pain. His allies had a similar reaction, and it was all the druids needed to take control of the fight.

Above, Ronan lost his footing as the surface he stood on shuddered, and he plummeted to the ground. With cat-like reflexes, he kept his footing and dropped his bow. Twin swords emerged from his sheaths, and he led the counter-attack with his whirling blades.

Aiden had to do something, so he did the only thing he could — he grasped the sceptre once more and despite Desmond's warnings, pointed it at the nearest druid and spoke the command word.

The ray of destruction burned a hole through the chest of a druid, continuing on to hit the man behind him, too, killing them almost instantly. At that moment, the sceptre began to vibrate with a strange, high-pitched whistle, not unlike a kettle. Aiden looked at the jewel-encrusted tip in alarm, noticing several crystals had cracked and blinding light was emerging as more of the gems fell apart.

The heat from the relic was enough that even through his leather gloves, Aiden felt his hand burning. Guessing what was about to happen, he flung the device towards the group of druids piling in on Ronan.

"Look out!" Aiden cried, and the sailor took one look at it and leaped out of the nearest window, just as the sceptre exploded.

A ball of fire lit up the room with the light of the midday sun. Aiden threw his arms in front of his eyes and could hear only the howls of their enemies as they were incinerated by the eruption of power.

The light faded a few moments later as a calm settled over the ruin. Although Aiden hadn't been directly involved in the brutal fight, his heart was racing. Ronan peered in through the window to make sure it was safe, before making his way back inside.

One of the dead druids moved, giving Aiden a start until he saw Maggie, pinned underneath, using the last of her magical strength to heave the body aside. She was covered from in a mixture of dirt and blood, and as she looked around at the results of the fight, the expression on her face was one of profound disappointment.

"It didn't have to come to this," she muttered fervently, looking around at her fallen brethren. "I don't know who pushed my old friends to this point, but I swear, they will pay dearly for the corruption of my order."

Chapter Eleven

"I'm telling you, it was the MacAliese clan," Pacian insisted to Tosh and the women upon returning to the diplomatic suite at the Rockslide Inn, half an hour later. "Some of them were even wearing those strange patched-up leathers we saw them wearing back at Ferrumgaard."

"I find this highly implausible," Nellise sighed. She had just finished a healing session on Valennia, who was looking somewhat healthier for the experience. It left the beautiful cleric drained, however, and they had yet to sleep since returning from the monastery in the mountains. The hour was late, and nobody wanted to turn in more than Pacian, but what he had seen in the caverns below the city had to be discussed.

"Why would I make this up?" he protested. "What possible reason could I have for lying?"

"It's not that I don't believe you," Nellise clarified, "but Ferrumgaard is over two hundred miles from here. The remnants of clan MacAliese in that city weren't exactly the most outgoing sort to begin with, to say nothing of travelling such a distance."

"How would they even know to come here?" Sayana added thoughtfully. "They'd been closed off from the world for years — not including any grave robbers that went through the place — and didn't seem to have any inclination to leave."

"Until we showed up," Pacian corrected her grimly. "We tore right through their city and made it out alive. Maybe they thought we'd tell everyone they were there and decided to get out."

"That still doesn't explain how they came here," Sayana said with a shake of her head.

"Clavis spoke to them, when we first encountered the clan," Nellise murmured, deep in thought. "He might have told them where he had come from, and maybe even mentioned that a good portion of the population had survived the calamity at Ferrumgaard." She glanced at everyone with a worried look on her tired features. "They may have come for revenge, or even to reclaim the throne like their cousin Hamish was speaking of."

"Wait, didn't Clavis say the MacAliese clan killed their own king?" Sayana asked. "Why would they be cheering for Hamish, as you described?"

"Yeah... that didn't really make sense to me either," Pacian grumbled, dismayed at the amount of thought this task required of his tired brain. "I can't see them deposing King Sulinus to put Hamish on the throne, but who knows? I mean, they're crazy."

"I do not know of these other people you speak of," Valennia remarked, "but if they were determined enough to come all this way out of spite, then they would not be looking to make a king out of some local stranger. Hamish must be blinded by ambition to not see this." Tosh had watched them impassively for the entire discussion, arms crossed as he sat next to the fire. He finally spoke up as the talk turned to events closer to home.

"I wouldn't put it past Old Hamish to instigate something o' this magnitude," he said gruffly, "but to suggest he was coordinating with — how many did ya see?"

"At least a hundred," Pacian supplied.

"A hunnerd of 'em, and probably needing equipment, if yer description o' their gear is accurate. Don't know how they woulda gone about gettin' all that done, but again, a determined fellow could accomplish it. Still, a hunnerd isn't a huge threat, even if it is as ya say," Tosh shrugged. "We've twenty times that many soldiers ready to fight 'em, should it come down to it. It might just be that his distant cousins are using his ambition fer their own ends. It's something that should be brought to the attention o' His Majesty immediately. Since I was about to order ye all to come along with me when Pacian barged in, mouth flappin' away, we're overdue fer our meeting anyway."

"I take it King Sulinus was not altogether pleased at the loss of Thanesedge," Nellise remarked.

"He wasn't happy about it, no," Tosh grunted, rising out of his chair. "So, we'll give them this bit o' news and hope it's not too late to do something to head off any unpleasantness in the city."

"Does that include me?" Pacian hedged, looking at the warm fire and the soft, inviting beds before him. His muscles ached, his head was fuzzy, and he wanted to do nothing but lie around, eat and sleep for the next few days.

"Especially you, as we'll need ya to point out t' secret door ya found," Tosh chided him. "C'mon, the quicker we report this, the quicker you can get some sleep."

"Fine," Pacian shrugged, resigned to yet another walk through the dark streets of Ferrumgaard. After the events earlier that night and his stealthy journey back to the inn, the adrenaline had faded and now he was struggling to stay awake. In his haze, he simply followed the sway of Nellise's white robe as they moved through the quiet underground city, ignoring a subtle nudge from Sayana to stop staring at the cleric's posterior.

"Do you not post guards to walk the city at night?" he heard Valennia ask Tosh.

"They should be around somewhere, yes," the sergeant muttered in reply. "After I get ye to the royal chambers, I'll go have a word with the watch commander." Something in the back of Pacian's mind told him this was bad news, but he shrugged it off — after all, he'd done more than his share for the city, and if they could just get their hands on the Sceptre of Oblivion, he could put his feet up for the rest of winter.

Passing through the great doors of the king's palace, Valennia again noted the lack of guards protecting their leader. Tosh was growing more suspicious by the minute, but was determined to see them to the king's chambers before investigating further. When they entered the great hall, Pacian could see King Sulinus sitting on his throne in a heated discussion with his closest aides. Of the guards, there was no sign, and it was entirely possible that the king was so busy arguing with his councillors that he failed to notice their absence.

"Here they come now," Sulinus thundered over the voices of his council, who fell silent and watched their approach. Pacian was feeling self-conscious, and took on a surly disposition in response to the king's anger.

"Yer Majesty, I present the representatives of the Kingdom of Aielund, as requested," Tosh intoned with a bow.

"Yes yes, thank you sergeant," the king growled with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Ambassador Sannemann, how do you explain the loss of our treasured artifact from your very chambers?" Unlike Pacian, Nellise was composed and unmoved by the monarch's fury.

"Your Majesty, I offer my sincere apologies for the loss of your beloved relic," she began eloquently. "Exactly how that came to occur is still a mystery to us. We understand the return of Thanesedge was important to you, especially at this difficult time, but another matter has come to the fore that begs your attention."

"Go on," Sulinus prompted.

"While investigating the theft, my associate, Mister Savidge, came across what appears to be a threat to your authority as king of Stonegaard. At least one hundred of your people, led by Hamish MacAliese, were gathered in a secret area far below the city. The exact nature of the meeting was lost on Mister Savidge, as he was unable to speak the language, but Hamish was carrying Thanesedge, and the surrounding throng was chanting in support of him. It is my belief they intend to supplant you and restore a MacAliese to the throne," Nellise finished with aplomb.

The king and his council had listened patiently to her explanation, but as soon as she finished, all twelve of them erupted into a loud argument.

"This chief is weak," Valennia declared loudly. "He allows his opinions to be swayed by his vassals and makes no attempt to exert authority."

"I don't think we're getting access to their artifacts any time soon," Sayana sighed. As Pacian turned to look at her, he noticed a glint of steel from one of the nearby doorways. Alarmed, he glanced around the hall, and although it was quite dark in the shadows, he had a terrible suspicion as to what was about to happen.

On an impulse, he took out his goggles and as soon as he placed them over his eyes, the shadows revealed several dozen heavily armed dwarves, some of which were wearing half metal armour, half tattered leathers.

The MacAliese clan of Ferrumgaard had arrived.

Standing in the dark near the great double-doors was Old Hamish himself, clad from head to foot in heavy plate armour and wielding Thanesedge in one hand. He seemed to watch the proceedings with grim satisfaction, before walking down the aisle towards the throne, his metal boots ringing ominously with each footfall.

"Look at ya!" Hamish bellowed as he entered the light of the flames, almost at once gathering the attention of everyone present. "Bickerin' and arguin' while yer city falls apart around ye! There's a reason a MacTavish has ne'er been king o' the dwarves, and yer lookin' right at it!"

"And ya think ye can do better, Hamish MacAliese?" Sulinus roared back, his council shuffling to either side of the throne to clear the way for the confrontation about to take place. "Yer a bastard fourth cousin to a long dead king, a man too short-sighted to see his own downfall staring him straight in the face, and ya think ye'll do a better job?"

"I know I can," Hamish retorted, the sounds of shuffling feet echoing through the hall as his supporters made their presence known. The reflected light from three dozen eyes gleamed at them from the shadows, and the shining points of crossbows, spears and axes left no doubt as to the reason for their presence.

The dwarves of the council slowly backed away, but Sulinus himself held his ground. The many weapons on display on to the walls might be put to good use, as the councillors put themselves in position to grab whatever they could.

"A fraction of noble blood is a damn sight better'n whatever runs through yer veins, Sulinus," Hamish continued. "I may be pushin' two hunnerd years, but that just means I remember what it was like in the old days. The way yer runnin' the show is a bloody disgrace. Out of respect to yer long years o' service, I'll give ya this one chance to step down peaceably. Otherwise, me friends'll have to show ya the door."

Tosh was holding a stout warhammer in one hand and pulled out his round shield with the other, warily backing up to where Nellise was watching this new development with trepidation.

Valennia appeared ready to spring into action at any moment and Sayana was casually moving her arms about, downplaying the gestures that helped her enact her defensive magic. Pacian licked his lips, his heart racing at the prospect of a fight of this magnitude. Whatever happened, he would fight to the death to protect Nellise.

"If ya think ye can take the city with a few dozen scraggly lookin' bastards, ya need to get yer head checked," Sulinus challenged.

"Strong words, Sulinus," Hamish remarked, unfazed by the prospect of fighting ten thousand warriors. "Ya clearly trust yer confidants implicitly. I mean, here you are, standin' in the middle of the room with naught but yer clothes fer protection, while I'm here with dozens of Ferrumgaard's finest. I thought a king, beloved of his subjects, might have at least one guard on duty?" The king narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and Pacian suddenly understood the reason for the guard's absence.

Crossbow bolts shot forth from the shadows, and it was only Pacian's taut reflexes and knack for sensing trouble that prevented him from being perforated a dozen times over. He wasn't the only one to spring into action either — King Sulinus, for all his grandstanding, darted behind his solid gold throne while his counsellors ran for the nearest door.

Valennia immediately rushed over to the wall and pulled an ornate poleaxe down from its place of honour. The ten-foot long weapon was tipped with a massive, broad-bladed axe and was clearly designed for fighting mounted infantry. Valennia had other targets in mind. Another wave of crossbow bolts shot across the room, all of them seemingly aimed at random. Nellise squealed and ducked behind Tosh's shield, which stopped several bolts from striking them.

The few stray quarrels that struck Sayana bounced off her protective spectral armour, and she responded by creating a wall of fire across the middle of the hall, preventing anyone on the other side from seeing properly. Pacian took advantage of the diversion to duck into the shadows alongside the hall, which was rife with nooks and crannies he could hide in.

The brief protection the fire provided ended when, with a thunderous roar, the host of MacAliese warriors charged in, heedless of the flames. Most of them made it through only lightly singed, but several of them dropped to the ground and rolled around in a futile attempt to put out the fires that had caught on their clothing.

After boldly challenging the flames, however, the clan ran into their next obstacle, that of a towering woman with a giant axe. Gripping the long shaft with both hands, Valennia swept the huge weapon back and forth, slicing through armour and flesh alike.

Sayana rose into the air to float safely above the fray, and with her palms extended, sent a ball of fire shooting down their midst. The ensuing explosion sent a dozen broken and charred bodies flying through the air, freeing up Valennia's right flank from assault as she continued to hew away at the persistent dwarven host.

Pacian waited patiently in the shadows until most of the enemy had run past him, and then seized the opportunity to strike at the closet dwarf, stabbing him in the kidneys through his chain armour. His rage sent another surge of adrenaline through his veins, and Pacian dashed along the backs of the host, stabbing and slashing at anyone who didn't see him coming.

Valennia was slowly being pushed back by the assault, and the dwarven warriors howled in anticipation of spilled blood. She put her weapon to good use, not just cutting into their ranks but blocking their weapons with the long haft of the polearm.

For all her efforts, too many of the enemy had slipped past her weapon's arc and she was forced to fight defensively. One of the dwarves stabbed her with a spear, catching her in one leg. She responded immediately, striking the shaft of the spear with her axe and breaking it in half. Valennia then shoved the handle of her weapon into the face of the dwarf who had struck her, breaking his jaw and dropping him to the ground.

Despite their best efforts however, Valennia's position was being overrun. The akoran warrior took hit after hit from blows she simply couldn't avoid, and although her armour took some of the damage, she was getting pummelled from every direction.

Gritting his teeth, Pacian cracked a distracted dwarf's head with the pommel of his dagger, and then slashed him across the throat, heaving aside the dying warrior to strike at another behind him. After killing two more of the unsuspecting warriors, Pacian could see they had won the fight, but the cost of their victory became very clear a moment later.
Valennia cleaved the skull of one of the few MacAliese's remaining, dropping him lifelessly to the ground, but she didn't even try to pull the axe out of the corpse afterward. Instead, she staggered to one side, falling onto the scorched floor of the great hall in a bloodied mess of lacerations and bruises.

"Val!" Pacian cried, his voice hoarse as the remaining dwarves fled the battle in terror and made for the exit. He ignored them, rushing to the fallen woman's side as Sayana descended to the floor, pale and wearied from her efforts. Valennia didn't respond to Pacian's call, surely a bad sign from a woman who had never been afraid to voice her opinions.

"She needs healing immediately," Sayana remarked, drawing a withering glance from Pacian.

"Nel, get over here, Val's badly hurt," he called, taking note of how much blood was flowing from the akoran woman. When there was no reply from Nellise, Pacian looked over to just in front of the throne where he had last seen her. King Sulinus, apparently uninjured, was emerging from behind the golden chair. Of Nellise, there was no sign.

"Nellise?" Pacian called again as a chill ran up his spine. He looked around frantically, but couldn't see any sign of her distinctive white robe. Sayana repeated his call to no avail. Unable to spare a moment to look for her, Pacian reached into his pouch and drew out a bandage, and did his best to staunch the flow of blood from Valennia's many wounds.

"By Relnak, what has the traitor done," Sulinus breathed at the sight of so many bodies before him. He took a few shaky steps through the carnage, his nose wrinkling at the stench of burnt flesh. The throne room was like a slaughterhouse, and were it not for Valennia and the others, the king would surely have been killed in the fight.

"We need a healer here, now," Pacian ordered of the king, in no mood for proper courtesy and titles.

"Fetch the priest, immediately!" Sulinus called over his shoulder, and one of the few remaining councillors pulled himself together and dashed out the door that led further into the royal chambers.

"Did you see Nellise? What happened to her?" Pacian demanded.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see where she went," the king replied soberly. Four of his councillors approached as he spoke.

"Yer Majesty, the city is under attack," an older dwarf with an intricately plaited beard remarked grimly, placing a reassuring hand on his king's shoulder. "Yer royal guard have been compromised, and until we can figure out who's loyal, we need to get ya safe, right away. Let us take care of the traitor and his insurgents."

"How did they even get in here?" Sulinus mumbled, still in shock.

"I don't know, but we're going to do everything we can to stop this madness," the old councillor promised. From the rear of the hall, a robed dwarf of ancient appearance was moving towards them as quickly as he could. When he arrived, he knelt down next to the unconscious Valennia and pulled a crystal out of his pouch.

"She is mortally wounded," he explained in a desiccated voice after a few moments of examination. "Leave her with me, and perhaps Relnak will reward her incredible bravery in battle."

"He'd better, or I'm gonna slice his tongue off," Pacian growled, gently laying her head down and rising to his feet.

"Hang in there, sister," Sy whispered to Val as she stroked her matted hair. In the distance, faint echoes of fighting could be heard, punctuated with the occasional scream as the MacAliese clan set about their black works. Of paramount concern to Pacian was the sudden disappearance of Nellise, and apparently Tosh.

"Sy, can you find any tracks that might give us an idea where they went?" Pacian asked as the ancient priest of the dwarven god whispered his prayers over Valennia.

"I will try," she promised, pulling herself away and lightly stepping over the battlefield before crouching to examine the floor for any sign of their passage.

"There was a scuffle over here," Sayana remarked from nearby, pointing at the various prints on the bloodied floor. "Four people of short stature seem to have grabbed Nellise and dragged her away." Pacian came over for a closer look, noting that they were far removed from where most of the fighting had taken place.

"The attack came from over there," he murmured with a glance to the long hallway. He pictured in his mind everyone's position at the beginning of the battle and came to a dreadful conclusion. "There was nobody over here... except the king's councillors!"

"If one of them had attacked her, Tosh would have stopped them," Sayana disputed. "Or at least given them a fight. There's no sign that he even put up a struggle, if I'm reading this right."

Pacian rubbed his brow and sighed in frustration. Aiden would have been able to put all this together by now, and Pacian knew he was overlooking something important. The MacAliese army had entered Stonegaard without anyone noticing, Sloane had somehow stolen Thanesedge and the rest of their weapons, and Tosh didn't put up a fight when Nellise was taken to God knows where. He stared down at Valennia, who was clinging to life with the help of the dwarven priest, and it all suddenly fell into place.

"They came underground," he whispered to himself, ignoring Sayana's confused look. "They never even stepped foot through the front gates, because they found a way here without ever going above ground."

"The MacAliese's?" Sayana wondered. "But wouldn't there be guards in the underground places too?"

"Maybe, but far fewer," Pacian surmised. "They'd still need help getting into the city proper, even if the mines and unfinished sections weren't heavily watched. They'd need someone in the military, one of the guards."

"You don't mean..." Sayana replied in wide-eyed disbelief.

"Tosh," Pacian practically spat the word. "He has enough clout in the city guards to allow a small army in through the lower tunnels."

"He's been so helpful. Why would he betray us like this, especially after saving his life?"

"Remember what he said earlier, that he had no love for this king," Pacian reminded her. "When we arrived back here after escaping the dragon, he herded us into the inn when Hamish started that small riot."

"That must have been a coincidence," Sayana scoffed.

"Was it? They knew we were coming back sooner or later — assuming we weren't killed by the dragon of course — so we were pushed back into our room for a while, until we had an audience with the king. At which point, Tosh told us—"

"Told us to leave our weapons in the room before we left," Sayana breathed.

"Where Sloane was already waiting for us," Pacian finished, yelling at the top of his lungs, screaming at the ceiling. "She got out with our gear when the guard was distracted. Bloody marvellous." He spat out a vile curse and felt the urgent need to punch something.

"I don't know, Pacian," Sayana hedged. "I'm still not sure Tosh was involved. He gave you that dagger, for starters."

"A practically worthless weapon, but useful for buying my gratitude," Pacian shrugged callously. "I'm not even sure it's vythir, to be honest. Maybe we can ask him before I stick it between his ribs. You can follow their tracks, right?"

"Probably," Sayana replied dubiously.

"Actually, I don't think that matters," Pacian said with a flash of insight. "I know where they're going anyway."

* * *

It was a short journey to the candle shop, wherein the secret passage into the depths of the mountain was hidden. The sounds of distress echoing through the streets indicated that a greater battle was being fought elsewhere in the city, but Pacian couldn't do anything to help them now. He had something more important in mind.

The candle shop was as he had left it, with the front door locked and the secret passage covered so that nobody within would ever have known he was there. It only took him a moment to unlock the front door and head inside, where he quickly pushed the lever to open the wall and reveal the staircase beyond.

"Look, fresh blood," Sayana remarked, pointing to a stain on the stairs at their feet.

"We're probably right on their tails," Pacian replied with satisfaction, reaching up to make sure the trapped stairwell was safe. The mechanism had already been deactivated, so he hurried down the stairs with Sayana right behind him.

Although impatient, he slowed and softened his footfalls as they approached the bottom of the immense staircase. Placing the goggles over his eyes once more, Pacian could see they were arrogant enough to leave nobody to guard the stairs.

Sayana pressed a hand against his shoulder and stepped around him, conjuring a small sliver of flame that danced in her extended palm. Pacian flinched from the brightness that lit up like a bonfire in his enhanced vision. She carefully examined the stone of the cave for further signs of their passing and then crept forward, shielding the light from the flame as best she could to prevent them being detected. Pacian would have preferred the light to be out completely, but Sayana's eyes, although sensitive, were no match for his lenses.

They passed the smaller offshoots from the main tunnel Pacian had seen earlier, the dull rumbling of distant underground activity echoing along the stone passageway and the faintest hint of orange light from somewhere ahead. When they reached a fork in the road, the sorceress stopped and looked back and forth between them, apparently confused by what she found.

"The tracks are easy to follow because of the dirt," she confided when he leaned in closer. "A dozen dwarves went past here recently, dragging Nellise with them. They split into two groups at this point."

"Which one took Nellise?" Pacian hissed, wondering why there was even a question of which path to follow.

"I can find no sign of her tracks anymore, so they might be carrying her," Sayana explained. "Only three of them went down the left fork and they seem to be heavier impressions, so my guess is they carried her that way."

"That's where I'm going then," Pacian said. "Just to be safe, keep following the other group, and if you run into trouble, yell and I'll come running." Sayana nodded, and the two of them silently crept down the separate tunnels.

There were signs of excavation on the walls along this route, something Pacian hadn't noticed on his last visit. The minutes seemed to stretch on interminably as he moved along the tunnel. His muscles ached terribly from the long day and he feared that he might collapse within the hour. He had learned the lenses were fatiguing to wear for any length of time, and the stark grey half-light they provided took some getting used to. But without them, he would never have seen the tiny glint of metal from up ahead.

With cat-like reflexes, Pacian dove to one side just as he heard a familiar click echoing along the tunnel. If he hadn't moved, the crossbow bolt that shot through the air would have killed him instantly. As it was, it took him in the right arm, piercing deeply into his flesh and rendering it useless.

He cried out in pain and dropped his dagger, watching as the familiar figure of Sloane MacAliese appeared ahead, pulling back the lever on Nellise's crossbow to drop another bolt into place.

Reacting instinctively, Pacian quickly drew a knife with his left hand and threw it towards her, the spiralling metal missing her head by inches as she bent to one side to avoid the oncoming blade. Pacian took advantage of the distraction to roll and pick up the dagger he'd dropped when he'd been struck in the arm, then rushed straight at Sloane before she could fire another shot.

Leaning in at the last moment of his reckless charge, Pacian slammed into Sloane just as she readied the crossbow for another shot, sending them both tumbling down the stone passage. The crossbow was knocked clear as they scrambled back onto their feet. Pacian ignored his injured arm as best as he could, as he found himself facing off against Clavis' daughter, his daggers in her hands.

Realising his disadvantage, Pacian struck out first, slashing back and forth with his single blade to keep her on the defensive. She ducked and dodged expertly, avoiding each cut by mere inches. On the downstroke of one of Pacian's attacks, he grabbed a handful of dirt with his other hand and managed to fling it up towards her. He winced in pain as the sharp motion aggravated his injury, but it was worth it as Sloane was forced to shield her eyes from the dirt flying at her face.

He gave her a swift kick in the stomach, but she was already recoiling from his distraction, so the blow landed with little impact. Unfortunately for Pacian, he was now overstretched and an easy target for retribution.

He felt the white-hot sensation on his chest as one of her daggers cut through his leathers. Quickly drawing another knife, he gave her a nasty slash across one arm as she withdrew, Pacian gasping for breath at the searing pain in his chest and Sloane nursing her wounded arm. They circled each other warily, each having learned newfound respect for their opponent.

"Feeling a little betrayed?" Sloane taunted as they faced off in the gloomy tunnel.

"You sly bitch," Pacian spat, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "How long was Tosh working for you? Did you buy him off with gold, or take him into your bed a few times?" Sloane chuckled morbidly at his words, though she didn't take her eyes off him for even a moment.

"We've had ties to the military since we came here," she laughed. "How else do you think a criminal organisation would survive in an enclosed place like this? No, Tosh was more than willing to hear our story, and from then on, he didn't even want coin for the job. He betrayed ya because he's a true believer — as soon as he saw that axe, he hatched this little scheme to get Hamish on the throne, and made sure our new friends could get into the city proper to help us out."

"What have you done with Nellise?" Pacian growled, having heard enough about Tosh already.

"My my, she is a pretty one, ain't she," Sloane hissed. "Oh, the things our lads will do to her if you don't get out of here right now—"

She didn't have a chance to finish the sentence before Pacian's dagger was flying through the air towards her. Blood dimmed his sight as he charged recklessly at her, his dagger embedding itself deeply into her already wounded arm. He barely had the presence of mind to draw out another of his knives before he reached her and drove the point straight for her heart.

The dwarven thief managed to avoid the worst of it and snarled in pain as she was shoved against the wall, breathing hard. Pacian drew another knife, but Sloane saw it coming and dodged it with ease. She whirled around an grabbed the crossbow, just as Pacian was about to charge again.

The sound of a crossbow bolt dropping into place echoed through the passageway, a chilling sound that froze Pacian on the spot. He slowly brought his eyes up to see Sloane standing there, the crossbow levelled at his body. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath from the vicious fight, yet the weapon remained perfectly aimed at his face.

"Ya should have turned and walked away," she lamented, gazing at him along the weapons' sights. There was no way he could throw a knife before she pulled the trigger, but he still had one trick to pull. He clenched his right hand and spoke the command word to activate his magic ring.

The magic of the ring manifested and slugged her with incredible force, slamming the thief into the stone wall and cracking most of her bones in the process. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she slumped to the ground, a bloodied mess. The ring, finally depleted, crumbled away to dust, though it had served its purpose. Pacian dragged himself over beside the dying woman, her last breaths rattling in her lungs.

"Where... is... Nellise?" he whispered harshly in her ear. There was no response from Sloane, so Pacian shoved his thumb into one of her wounds and twisted. She writhed in silent agony for a moment, and Pacian repeated his question with greater intensity. The dwarven woman managed to turn her head and spit in his face, so he repeated the unpleasant process with his thumb.

"Tell me, and I will end it quickly," he said with quiet promise, releasing the pressure as Sloane let out a strangled gasp.

"In the miners... equipment room," she whispered with trembling lips. "Near the work site," she added before her head fell back against the stone floor.

"Thank you," Pacian said without feeling as he grabbed one of his daggers from her unfeeling hand and quickly ended her life. Pacian fell to the floor, gasping for breath as pain in his body came at him in full force.

The crossbow bolt was still lodged in his arm and the sharp ache was distracting to say the least. Pacian retrieved a bandage from his pack, and then took off his belt and bit down hard on the leather strap between his teeth. Then, he slowly wrapped his fingers around the protruding quarrel in his arm.

Deciding that a swift movement was better than a slow, steady one, Pacian braced himself against the wall and ripped the bolt out, screaming from the sudden agony and almost passing out. Fortunately, the bolt itself wasn't barbed and didn't do any further damage on its way out, but a torrent of blood flowed from the open wound.

He wrapped the bandage tightly around his arm, hoping it would be enough to stop the bleeding and then recalled he had one of Nellise's tonics in his pack. He rifled around with his good arm and produced a small vial of liquid. Uncorking it, he drank it down in one gulp and rested his head against the stone wall, eyes closed as he began to feel the effects of the healing draught tingling throughout his body.

It wasn't enough to restore him fully — not by a long shot — but it would be enough to keep him on his feet for the time being. The sound of fiery explosions nearby reminded him that Sayana was still out there, somewhere. Breathing hard, Pacian dragged himself onward, spurred on by the thought of saving Nellise from a fate worse than death.

Chapter Twelve

In the past, when Aiden would dream of strange events, his mind was always swept away, unable to tell it was a dream. This time, however, he knew he was dreaming. He could almost feel himself lying upon his bedroll, but for a flurry of images and sensations tumbling through his mind.

There was a tall and elegant tower soaring above a young city filled with life and promise. The city was obscured by a great shadow from above and a tremendous earthquake struck, undermining its foundations and sinking it into the ground. Families clutched onto each other as they fled in terror, many of who would not make it out alive.

A robed man atop the tower stood against the shadow as it fell over the city, but as the tower crumbled, he fell from the parapet, his aged and whiskered face etched into Aiden's mind as he tumbled through the air. A sphere of energy encased the tower as the robed man fell through the air. Just before he met his end upon the flagstones below, he vanished.

More images of time passing flitted through Aiden's restless mind as clouds passed overhead, impossibly fast. An empty coffin seemed to linger in his thoughts amongst the fleeting images, and something about it caught his attention, something important. The city decayed around it as the decades passed then, with a flash, Aiden was looking down at his own body amongst the ruins of Feybourne, twisting and turning in his blankets. He looked up at himself and for a moment, he was staring into the blazing eyes of a dragon.

* * *

"Aiden, wake up!" Ronan whispered harshly as Aiden was jolted awake. "You were making a lot of noise for someone who was supposed to be sleeping. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Aiden muttered, trying to shake the last vestiges of the bizarre dream from his mind. He sat up and looked around, noticing that the fire was burning low, and the dull grey light on the horizon indicated dawn was close. Maggie was helping Sir William put on his armour, and most of the camp had been packed up. Pulling aside his blanket, Aiden was relieved to see the swelling in his feet all but gone.

"We need to get moving," Ronan suggested, pushing Aiden's backpack into his arms. "Maggie says whoever was helping the druids last night has been weakened from the effort, but by morning he'll be ready to hit us again. We need to track him down and finish this."

"Are you sure about that?" Aiden asked of Maggie.

"Nobody can channel that much energy without being drained from the effort," she replied.

"What about us? If you're wrong, we're hardly in any condition for another fight," Aiden pressed. Sir William looked on with interest, trying to hide his fatigue from the others.

"Don't worry, I can take him," Ronan assured Aiden. "If I do it right, he won't even know I'm coming."

Aiden nodded dubiously, then reluctantly began preparing to leave. Half a night's sleep and one quick meal were hardly enough to recover from their arduous day, but he understood the urgency of their situation and forced his body back into action.

On a hunch, he reached under his tunic and felt the small shard of crystal that hung around his neck, the remains of a device that linked him to the dragon, Salinder. It was very warm, a sure sign his experience was supernatural in origin. Typically, the dreams they'd shared through the link had been clear to the point of seeming absolutely real, but there had been limits to how much information it could actually convey.

The dream of last night however, seemed to bombard his mind with sights and sounds, brief sensations and complex ideas. Aiden didn't know when he'd next have the opportunity to speak with the dragon, but when he did, he would try to find out exactly what that message was supposed to have achieved.

After gingerly sliding his feet back into his dry boots, Aiden was packed and ready to go. As he was about to walk over to speak with Maggie, his attention was caught by a gleam of light from the floor nearby. Moving closer, he saw it was from the remains of his sceptre that had exploded during the battle last night. The shaft of the weapon had vanished, having been hurled far from the explosion, but several of the gemstones remained on the ground.

An image flashed through Aiden's mind as he looked down at the debris, and he was compelled to sift through the remains. Logically, he knew it was pointless to try and recover anything of value from amongst the mud and snow, but something in his head told him that he should keep looking anyway.

After a moment, he uncovered an intact gemstone, a violet amethyst that had somehow survived the destruction of the device. He quickly pocketed it without knowing why, as Maggie came over to see what he was doing.

"I'm pretty sure it's broken," she said with a wan smile, rubbing his shoulder fondly. "Are you feeling better?"

"My feet are, although the rest of me could use a week's rest to be honest," Aiden replied, standing up and dusting off his coat. The dried mud and dirt remained, mocking his futile attempt to clean it.

"Don't worry, I have something that will help us with that," she said as she took out a tiny mortar and pestle, and began to grind up a dark herb with a familiar aroma that caused Aiden to groan inwardly.

"You're giving us a tincture of Kahve?" he asked ruefully.

"I see you're familiar with it," she nodded. "I don't care for it much myself, but we're all looking worse for wear, and this will keep us going."

"I don't recall hearing about such a tincture before," Sir William remarked as he walked Bastion over to them.

"And after you have some, you'll probably wish you'd never touched the stuff," Aiden grumbled.

"That won't be for a few hours," Maggie assured them. "Until then, you'll feel ten years younger."

"Now that would be something of a miracle," Sir William said with a chuckle. Maggie quickly dispensed a few small vials of the tincture amongst the four of them, which they quickly drank. The bitterness made Aiden shudder, but within moments he started to feel the effects spread through his body.

"I say, that is remarkable," Sir William breathed. "Is it safe to give to a horse?"

"I didn't have enough for our animal friends, I'm sorry," Maggie apologised, walking up to the great tiger and stroking his fur fondly. "I'm sending Thorn off to hunt and rest, since he's given all he can for the time being. You would do well to walk Bastion for a time."

"Indeed, I shall," Sir William replied as Thorn growled and loped out of the ruined building to hunt.

"I want to find this protective barrier Alain mentioned," Aiden suggested. "I think it might be our best chance to locate the sceptre, and we might even find this 'enlightened one' along the way."

"I think he should be our priority," Maggie said in disagreement. "We'll have plenty of time to search the city once we're safe."

"She has a point," Ronan agreed mildly. "Any idea where he could be hiding?"

"I don't suppose he could be behind this mystic barrier Alain spoke of?" Sir William wondered.

"I don't see how," Maggie replied thoughtfully. "It's impassable, surrounding an entire section of the city with a shimmering field, and it's deadly to the touch."

"It's obviously connected to the old tower that used to..." Aiden began, trailing off as he recalled the image of the tower from his scattered dreams. He could picture it in his mind, the tower surrounded by an immense sphere of glass... or the arcane wall that Alain spoke of.

"What is it, Aiden?" Maggie asked, a little concerned.

"The wall is protecting the site of the old tower," he explained, absolutely confident he knew what he was talking about. "It was created by the arch mage when the city was destroyed. The only way past it would be to use a control device, like a spectral key."

"So, it's possible your enlightened leader has one of these keys?" Ronan asked. "It's been here for a century, and who knows what's been uncovered over the years?"

"We'll know more when we find it," Aiden surmised. "Maggie, take us to this barrier, preferably at a place where there is a path through it, like an doorway or stairwell."

She led them through the broken streets, picking her way carefully by the half-light of dawn. Entire sections of the city had sunk, slowing their progress as they negotiated the dangerous terrain. After nearly an hour of traversing the broken streets, they rounded a corner and Aiden laid eyes upon the sight of a broken tower, its shattered husk still looming over the surrounding terrain, even at this distance.

The faint glimmer of the protective barrier was visible, a sphere of distorted light which had protected the inner heart of the city for the better part of a century. Maggie didn't stop and wait for them to gawk at the sight however, and Aiden soon had to hurry along to catch up.

The trail led them into a part of the city so low it was practically underground, with branches and broken structures forming a sort of canopy overhead. They wended their way through, with Aiden summoning a light to aid their progress. Soon enough, they arrived at a point between two large buildings that had survived the destruction relatively intact. Their intricate stonework was criss-crossed by a maze of roots and vines, dormant in winter, but undoubtedly covering the area in vibrant green during the warmer months.

A passageway led between the buildings, evidently some sort of ancient gate. The shimmering field of the barrier was easier to see here, shadowed from the light of the rising sun. They approached it cautiously, hearing the faint crackle of electricity as they stopped only yards from the mystical construct.

"Here it is," Maggie said needlessly, gesturing at the impassable barrier before them.

"I can scarcely believe it's still working after all these years," Aiden remarked. He crept towards it until he could see faint symbols of arcane power around the edge of the wall, where the barrier met the stone.

"That's what I was hoping to find," Aiden remarked, pointing at the arcane sigils. He peered at them closely, mindful of his proximity to the field. The quality of the engravings had diminished over time, yet he could still make out many of the important symbols which told him much about how the field worked. There was no indication of any way to dispel it, however.

"You don't seem pleased with what you're finding," Ronan observed.

"From the research I've done on the barriers like this, we need to find a key to get through it," Aiden explained.

"You don't think we could find passage through one of the broken buildings in the city?" Sir William asked, absently stroking Bastion's nose.

"It completely surrounds what lies beyond," Aiden answered. "I think the main reason these buildings still stand is this field of energy is holding them up. No, we'll have to find..." he trailed off as more images from his dream came to the surface.

"He's doing that thing again," Ronan remarked as Aiden recalled the sight of an old robed man falling from the tower — clearly the arch mage — disappearing before he hit the ground. The empty coffin made more sense now and he had a sudden feeling that's what they needed to find.

"Is there a graveyard or mausoleum in the city?" Aiden asked of Maggie with a sense of urgency.

"Yes, on the western side," she replied, her eyes searching his for some idea of what he was thinking. "Why do you ask?"

"This field was turned on by the arch mage just before he perished," he explained to their sceptical looks. "He would have had the control device on his body at the time, so if we can find the coffin where he was interred—"

"Are you suggesting we desecrate his resting place?" Sir William asked incredulously.

"I have reason to believe his body won't actually be in the grave," Aiden suggested.

"Where are you getting this information from?" Maggie asked suspiciously. "You've been acting strangely since you woke up."

"It would take some time to explain," Aiden hedged, "but suffice it to say, I'm getting some help from an unusual source."

"Do you mean little voices in your head?" Ronan asked laconically. "You'd be better off ignoring them. They don't have your best interests at heart."

"It's not that at all," Aiden snapped, beginning to feel the effects of the tincture of Kahve wearing off. "Please trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"Well you were right about the tower and the barrier," Maggie mused. "I suppose we can give you the benefit of the doubt."

"If I'm wrong, then I'm probably just going crazy," Aiden admitted, not pleased with his mind being used as a plaything for the ancient dragon.

"Alright, it's this way," the raelani druid shrugged, leading them towards a narrow, broken passage strewn with rubble.

"I don't think Bastion will fit through there," Sir William remarked. "I'd best leave him here for a time."

"We'll be coming back here, regardless of whether or not we're successful," Aiden advised, giving the knight a moment to secure Bastion to a piece of rubble, before joining them at the entrance to the passage through the ruins.

This entire section of the city was at a noticeable incline and for the most part, completely underground. Aiden's magical light seemed small and insignificant compared to the scale of destruction around them, as they silently walked through the most devastated sections of the city. Not one building remained standing, and it was obvious the place had been picked clean years ago. Nothing but shattered stone and brick could be seen within the range of their meagre light.

Sir William suddenly stumbled on the rough ground underfoot, but Aiden was quick to steady him with an extended arm.

"Quick thinking, my boy," the old knight breathed as he regained his footing. "I'm feeling rather overcome with a terrible headache and great fatigue."

"That's the Kahve wearing off," Maggie mumbled in explanation. "We're all feeling it to some extent."

"Now do you understand what I was referring to earlier?" Aiden chided.

"Quite plainly," Sir William muttered. "I will think twice before having more of it in future."

"We're nearly there anyway," Maggie assured them. "The mausoleum should be just through that gap."

The gap she referred to was more of a gaping rent in the side of a wall, an ominous looking entrance to a dark place. Stepping through first, Aiden found himself in a place with an intact roof, and no other visible entrances. Like most of the surrounding city, this room was cluttered with scattered debris, and the walls were lined with large, slab-like objects.

"It's definitely a mausoleum," Aiden remarked. He carefully stepped over some rubble and onto the solid flagstones of what appeared to be an immense chamber. The ceiling was invisible beyond the limits of his light and columns arrayed along the length of the hall disappeared up into the darkness.

"There must be dozens of people interred here," he breathed, gazing at the coffins along the wall. Many of them had been damaged or destroyed over the years, their grisly contents cast out onto the stone floor.

"Hundreds, if you count the walls," Maggie said, her tiny voice echoing in the freezing chamber. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

Ronan reached into his pack and produced a small lantern, which he lit with flint and steel. Maggie followed Aiden along the left side, while Ronan and Sir William searched the right.

Aiden was reminded of their time in the catacombs beneath the cathedral in Fairloch, battling the risen dead among very similar surroundings. Fortunately, these cadavers seemed content to remain inert as the four companions searched amongst their final resting place. So far, the only empty coffins they found were those that had been tipped over, destroyed or looted.

"Anything yet?" Ronan called from across the hall.

"No, what about you?" Aiden replied.

"Would I have asked if we'd found something of — oh wait, I think this is the one," Ronan said, his attention upon a coffin that seemed to have avoided damage from the long years. The image of the coffin flashed through Aiden's mind again, identical to what they had discovered.

He quickly walked over to it and looked into its empty interior, daring to hope they might find some clue within. There was an inscription on the base of the stone bier upon which the coffin rested — "In loving memory of Adulmund Cuthbeort — husband, father and protector, in this world and the next."

"Touching," Sir William remarked. "Are you sure this is what you were looking for?"

"Cuthbeort was the arch mage of Feybourne," Aiden mumbled, his sluggish thoughts trying to fathom the meaning of the image. He had seen a wizard tumbling from the tower in his dream, and then this empty coffin. "He never actually perished when the city was destroyed. He just, sort of vanished. 'Protector in this world and the next' it says. I wonder..."

"When this is over, you're going to have to explain how you know about all of this," Maggie stated with her arms crossed.

"When we're sitting in a nice warm inn, I'll be happy to," Aiden replied absently and started searching around inside the coffin. The wood seemed completely intact, but there was no sign of anything important. Ronan followed his example, thoroughly examining the outside of the coffin, as well as the stone it sat upon.

"While I'm impressed that you knew there would be a strange, empty coffin here, I'm failing to see the relevance," he remarked laconically. Aiden didn't offer any sign he'd heard the sailor, instead focusing on what he could remember of his dream. Ultimately, it was the inscription that jogged his memory.

"In this world and the next," he repeated. The arch mage had vanished during his fall, but where to? "Another world" was the answer, and there was only one other world Aiden knew of — the Aether.

"You know, if this bloke had a key that opened that barrier, he might have had a spare, because who doesn't lose their keys from time to time?" Ronan suggested.

"Wouldn't it be inside his house?" Maggie pointed out.

"Not if his family took the time to come back here and make an empty coffin," he answered with a shrug. Aiden's eyes lit up at this revelation, and he smacked himself in the face for missing the obvious.

"That's why the coffin isn't damaged," he blurted. "It's a memorial that was placed here after the earthquake."

"Did you only just figure that out?" Ronan chided. Focusing on the coffin, Aiden decided to look at it in a different light. If Cuthbeort's family and friends had taken the time to place the coffin here, there may well be something hidden within.

He concentrated on his vision, using the tricks he had learned from Sayana and Criosa to shift his sight into another spectrum. The colours around him changed, strobing from dim grey to far more garish colours as he attempted to see beyond that which was visible. Nestled on top of the coffin was a small object, invisible to the naked eye, but glowing orange in Aiden's enhanced sight. Reaching over, Aiden plucked it from its hiding spot and held it before him.

It was a small box, something one might use to store jewellery within. He allowed his vision to return to normal and carefully opened it. Within was a small stone with an orange gem embedded inside.

"How the hell did you manage that?" Ronan breathed, watching all of this unfold.

"It's a little trick I learned recently," Aiden replied, examining the stone. When he pulled it out of the box, it became fully visible again as the ancient incantation was disrupted. By normal light, he could see there was a hole on the other side of the stone, roughly the same size and shape as the gem.

"Is that the key you spoke of?" Maggie asked curiously.

"It's not like any key I've ever seen, magical or otherwise," Aiden surmised after a cursory examination. "It seems to be missing a gem, so I'm not sure if I can get it working." Even as the words were coming out of his mouth, he knew the answer — the gem he had recovered from the broken remains of the sceptre a few hours earlier.

His heart racing in anticipation, Aiden quickly reached into his belt pouch and produced the small amethyst and held it next to the stone. The gem appeared as though it would fit. He pushed it into place, unsure of what to expect.

"Well, it's worth a try," he muttered with little enthusiasm. When nobody responded to his remark, Aiden looked around and gasped at what he saw. His companions were reduced to blurry, dark silhouettes, mere shadows of their former selves. His surroundings were blanketed in a strange violet mist.

Aiden had seen this before, when he had travelled to the Aether, a realm adjacent to the real world. Looking down at his body, he was somewhat disturbed to be able to see through it, as if he were a ghost. A sensation of distant wind could be felt more than heard, lending an eerie quality to the alien surroundings. The stone had transported him at least part-way to the Aether.

He took a step forward, noticing that the ground underneath had a spongy quality. Curious, he reached out an arm to the nearby wall and found that, with a little effort, he could push his hand through. He continued to push until he managed to step right through it, emerging on what would have been the outside of the building.

With a surge of excitement, Aiden knew the perfect use for this strange device and went back through the wall, before prying the amethyst out of the arcane stone and reappearing in the midst of his startled companions.

"What in blazes is going on here?" Sir William barked.

"This relic will allow us to walk through the barrier as if it wasn't there," Aiden explained excitedly. "Come on, everyone join hands. This may feel a little strange." With some difficulty, he slipped the gem back into place and once more found himself standing amongst the shadowy echo of Feybourne, but this time with his companions by his side.

They stared in wonder at the strange new environment, and Aiden gave them a moment to look around before he led them back towards the barrier. It was a strange experience to see the shattered city of Feybourne distorted by the shift in reality. The looming shadows and cracked pavement were reduced to a subtle, dark blur, as if the city itself had become a ghost.

Aiden's companions were silent, awestruck by the strange experience as they drifted through the Aether. It was neither warm nor cold in this place, as such things had no meaning here, yet it was comfortable in a detached kind of way.

It wasn't long before they came to a familiar shape in the distorted stonework — the two large buildings that signified the edge of the arcane barrier. There was no sign of the flickering electrical field as they walked along, passing right by the spot where it would have been without ever coming into contact with it.

When they were a safe distance past the entrance, Aiden popped out the amethyst and returned them to their own world. As the purple haze melted away, he caught a glimpse of a robed figure watching them before it faded into the morning light.

"That was a singular experience," Sir William breathed. "It is a strange thing to wait this long in life, before truly experiencing all it has to offer."

"Remarkable," Maggie said with a faint smile. "The arch mage didn't make a key to turn off the barrier, but a device that would take him past it."

"Was that him?" Ronan asked.

"You saw that too?" Aiden responded. "I thought I might have been imagining things. It did seem to be the arch mage, still watching over his tower." The very idea that the man had somehow survived in the Aether for all these years was haunting, and Aiden made a mental note to investigate further after they were done here.

"Well, this has all been very remarkable, but would you mind very much if we finished what we came here for?" Sir William grumbled. "Some of us older gentlemen would very much like to lie down for a while."

"The tower lies just beyond," Maggie replied, rubbing Sir William's arm fondly. "A little further, Sir Knight, and we can all have a well-deserved rest."

"I think your new arch druid might have run away," Aiden pointed out as they began to ascend the sloping pathway. "Perhaps he's powerless with the rest of your order gone. There's certainly no way he could have passed that barrier. Look at this place — nothing has been here since the fall of the city."

"For his sake, I hope so," the raelani druid replied coldly, leaving little doubt as to her intentions should they stumble across their opponent.

Chapter Thirteen

Pacian wended his way through the tunnels beneath Stonegaard, following the sounds of battle in the distance. Sayana had clearly run into a large group of the insane MacAliese clan, and he wasn't going to let her face them alone while he still drew breath. The amount of time he'd be able to keep breathing, however, was a source of some concern. He was matted with blood after his duel with Sloane and unfortunately, most of it was his.

The tunnel suddenly began to shake, as if from a mild earthquake and Pacian braced himself against the wall until it subsided. Unsure what it was all about, he hobbled along the passageway towards the fighting.

The smell of sulphur was far stronger than on his last visit, and a wave of heat washed over him that was both welcome and disturbing. The place was lit by Sayana's fiery magic, and a lake of lava that hadn't been here last time. It was probably just his imagination, but Pacian thought he could see the levels of the lava slowly rising, engulfing more of the cavern with each passing moment.

Far on the other side of the chamber Sayana, practically glowing with power, summoned energies as she battled two dozen armed and armoured dwarves. Most of them used crossbows from behind the cover of rock, taking their shots and ducking to safety afterward.

Several charred and burned corpses dotted the landscape, and those few warriors that held axes and shields were keeping their distance from her, trying to box her in so their archers could finish her off.

Sayana brought her hands together and sent out a shockwave of deafening noise, stunning them momentarily. Pacian was far enough away to avoid the worst of the effects, but the properties of the cavern seemed to magnify the noise and he grated his teeth at the loud report. He stealthily moved in closer and crouched down behind a particularly large stalagmite, looking for an opportunity to assist.

The dwarves seemed to be as yet unaware of his presence, but with his diminished reflexes, Pacian was loathe to close in and use his dagger. Instead, he pulled out the repeating crossbow and perched it on a nearby rock, crouching low and aiming along its length.

Sayana sent a jet of flame across the cavern, sweeping it across the positions of the enemy archers who attempted to avoid the worst of it by hiding behind their rocks. When the arc of fire dissipated, three armoured dwarves charged from behind cover, hoping to take her by surprise. Pacian steadied the crossbow and breathed out slowly to steady himself, and then pulled the trigger.

The distance was probably only fifteen yards, but the effect was devastating. The armoured dwarf fell to the ground after the bolt found the back of his head, and the two remaining dwarves didn't even notice, intent as they were upon their enemy. They chopped at her body with their axes, sending sparks flying from her spectral armour as it absorbed the bulk of their attacks.

Pacian used what strength he had in his wounded arm to hold the crossbow steady, while he reached up and dropped the next bolt into place. In this time, Sayana had been pressed backward against the cavern wall by two warriors. In a display of co-ordination, they both pulled back a couple of yards and allowed a dozen crossbow bolts through the air. Sayana was pummelled with the volley, causing a series of bright flashes from her armour as it finally succumbed and vanished.

With his next bolt in place, Pacian quickly aimed and pulled the trigger, successfully hitting one warrior square in the back. He dropped to the ground, bloodied and roaring in pain. Sayana bathed them in fire and staggered to one side, wilting from exhaustion.

Her fatigue only lasted a moment. She fanned her fingers and spread her arms wide. Through the tears in her ragged shirt, Pacian could see her tattoos glowing as the light around her dimmed noticeably. Even the nearby lave itself seemed to dim as she drew in more power.

Pacian hesitated, enraptured by the scene. More crossbow bolts flew unnoticed around her as she focused her power. Sayana then opened her eyes and brought her hands together, pointing them at the rock formation they were using for cover. With a flash of energy along her tattoos, a bolt of crackling green energy shot towards them.

The formation of rock was instantly shattered, creating a cloud of impenetrable dust. The dull boom of the explosion echoed around the cavern, with Pacian swearing under his breath in astonishment. As the dust cleared, the few dwarves who hadn't been blasted to pieces were bathed in a torrent of fire from Sayana's extended fingers.

Pacian spotted a robed dwarven woman arguing with Hamish some distance from the fight. Pacian couldn't hear their voices from his position, and wouldn't have understood them anyway, but their body language was plain enough — there was a power struggle going on, and poor old Hamish was finding out the true nature of his long-lost kin.

The question of who was in charge of this small army was answered when two burly MacAliese men grabbed Old Hamish by the arms, and held him back. The woman wearing brown robes raised a staff and moved towards Sayana. Apparently some kind of wizard, she walked amongst the flames, untouched by the heat and with one sweeping gesture from the weapon, a wave of lava boiled up from the nearby lake and splashed onto the stone between her and the sorceress.

Molten rock separated the two women and convulsed and shifted before their eye. It grew towards the cavernous ceiling and formed a huge, man-like shape over ten feet tall. The few remaining MacAliese warriors kept their distance as the lava elemental strode forward, fists of molten rock ready to pulverise its foe.

Sayana trembled as she gawked at the immense being bearing down on her. Pacian snapped out of his momentary trance and set another bolt into place — he didn't know if the weapon would even hurt a creature made of lava, but he had to try. He stifled a curse as he realised the cartridge was empty, and set about changing it as quickly as his bloodied hands could manage.

Focused upon his task as he was, Pacian could only hear the sounds of the monster's flaming fist smashing into the rock, and he silently hoped that Sayana hadn't been there at the time. It took him far too long to clap the new cartridge into place and by the time he looked up, he saw her desperately trying to evade the creature's fists. She ducked when she should have dived however, and one slammed into her side. Sayana had the foresight to summon a shimmering disk of energy, which took the brunt of the blow but was destroyed from the impact.

She was hurled back against a wall, her clothes and hair smoking and charred from the brief contact. Looking around for something to aid her, she discovered a nook too small for the behemoth to reach. Sayana scrambled to her feet and dove inside as another fist came down next to her, sending up sparks as the lava impacted with the rocky floor. It peered around the corner but was clearly too large to fit inside, and howled a guttural roar of frustration that sounded like an avalanche.

The other dwarven warriors moved in, keeping a cautious eye on the elemental as they attempted to flush Sayana out. Torrents of flame dissuaded them from venturing too deeply, but the flames were small and lacked their previous power.

Pacian balanced the crossbow on the rock before him, ready to shoot a bolt into the back of the elemental, when he noticed the shaman who had summoned it hadn't moved from her spot. Her lips were moving slowly and her staff was held aloft. Pacian suspected this was important.

Listening to his instincts, he swivelled around and brought his weapon to bear upon the shaman and, after letting out a slow breath to steady himself, pulled the trigger. The bolt flew through the air and pierced her neck. She dropped the staff and fell to the ground with blood flowing from the mortal wound.

Almost immediately, the elemental howled and smashed its fist into the closest dwarf, pulverising him in one swift blow. The others scattered, falling over themselves to get away from the monster that had been unleashed by the fall of its mistress.

Seizing her opportunity, Sayana leaped out of her hiding place and with a brief moment of concentration, jumped high over the top of the elemental, skimming the ceiling of the cavern to land next to the twitching remains of the shaman with graceful ease, nearly twenty yards distant.

Pacian watched the fight between the elemental and the warriors for a moment longer, just to be sure they were fully occupied, and then shadowed Sayana's progress. He moved perhaps twenty yards before he found a prime scouting location from which to cover her, and right at the edge of his sight he thought he spied a small wooden shack. His spirits lifted as Pacian realised that was probably the place Nellise was being held, and he resisted the urge to rush straight in.

Sayana moved along the cavern cautiously, paying little heed to the sounds of battle echoing off the walls. There was no sign of any further opposition, but Hamish had to be out there somewhere, unless he had decided to run off after discovering the duplicitous nature of his allies.

A flicker of movement caught Pacian's eye near the shack on the far side of the cavern. Sayana must have seen it too, for she started moving in that direction.

Sensing Nellise could be in danger, Pacian hefted the crossbow and started making his way towards the shack. Though his injuries were grave, he pushed himself as fast as he could, spurred on by the possibility of Nellise about to harmed by some of the remaining enemy. Throwing caution to the wind, Pacian had outdistanced Sayana, who continued to eye the surrounding stalagmites carefully.

When Pacian was within twenty yards of the shack, he ducked behind a rock and peered around the corner, laying eyes on a shadowy dwarven figure that was creeping closer to the door of the shack. Narrowing his eyes, Pacian caught a glimpse of his face and recognised the bearded features of Tosh, dressed in the primitive leathers of the MacAliese clan.

A cold rage came over Pacian as he laid eyes on the traitorous soldier and he began to wend his way through the rocks towards him, his wounds forgotten as a surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins. He slung the crossbow over his shoulder and drew out Tosh's dagger with murderous intent, almost oblivious to the sound of renewed fighting nearby.

Tosh froze and glanced towards the source of the sound, giving Pacian the opportunity to slip around to the other side without being seen. His focus was solely on the task before him, and slowly put one foot on front of the other, silently moving closer as Tosh quickly began trying to force the lock on the door before him. He never had a chance at completing his task.

He gasped as Pacian slipped Tosh's dagger between his ribs and staggered backward, turning his head to stare at his assailant in blank astonishment. Pacian stared at him coldly as the blood dripped from Tosh's lips and the light went out of eyes.

"The price of treachery is death," Pacian whispered in his ear, certain it would be the last thing he would ever hear. He laid the now-lifeless body silently at his feet and wiped the blood from his dagger on the tattered cloak Tosh wore.

Glaring down at the body of the traitor, Pacian felt a cold sense of satisfaction that justice had been done, yet still seethed at the betrayal. The sound of conflict caught his attention and looking up, he noticed that Sayana fought an armoured dwarf carrying a familiar looking axe.

Old Hamish was clearly no stranger to battle, but the years had taken their toll on his reflexes. He was roughly a match for Sayana, for she was spent from the battles she had fought, and was using everything she had left just to keep the vicious axe at bay. Her magical shield darted back and forth, intercepting each predictable sweep of the axe. The little jets of flame she shot at him had little effect.

Pacian took out the crossbow once more and propped it up on a nearby rock, aiming straight at the back of the unsuspecting warrior. As soon as he was steady, he pulled the trigger, sending a razor-sharp quarrel at the back of Hamish's breastplate. It bounced off the thick armour however, and disappeared from sight.

Hamish whirled around to see what had struck him and locked eyes with Pacian, who was busy pulling back the lever with his one good arm. The distraction was all that was needed however, for Sayana once more drew in energy from the surrounding air, dimming the light from the receding pool of lava. By the time Hamish turned his attention back to her, she was ready for him.

With a pushing gesture from her outstretched hands, Hamish was flung backwards through the air to slam into a stalagmite five yards away. The axe fell from his hands as he gasped in pain, and as soon as it clattered to the ground, it was suddenly whisked through the air towards Sayana, who caught it in one hand and with a powerful throw sent it back at Hamish, cleaving his skull in one strike.

His body twitched in a macabre fashion for a few moments, and then slid down the red-hot embankment into the lake of lava. The heat set his hair on fire long before his body touched it, but once it connected with the molten rock, the corpse went up in flames. The metal from his armour started to melt and Thanesedge, firmly lodged into his skull, sank beneath the fiery surface to melt along with the rest of the metal.

Sayana stood for a long moment afterwards, weaving back and forth with exhaustion before slumping to the ground, breathing heavily. Looking past her, Pacian could see the lava elemental slowly merging with the lake after pummelling the remaining warriors into the ground.

Even the lake of lava appeared to be receding with each passing moment, so it appeared they had won. The shaman must have been the one causing it to flood in the first place, and Pacian wouldn't put it past the MacAlieses to try and destroy the entire city with a rising tide of lava from beneath.

Guessing that Sayana just needed some rest, he ignored her and set about opening the door to the shack. Oddly, it was still locked and with a quick scan of Tosh's body, he found no key, but a set of lock picks. Resorting to his usual methods, Pacian managed to have the simple lock opened within moments, and then pushed it inwards, peering in to the dimly lit room to see the distinctive white robes of Nellise in the far corner. She was kneeling in prayer, and upon opening the door, turned to grace Pacian with a heartfelt smile.

"I knew you'd come," she breathed, rising to her feet and rushing forward to embrace him in a rare display of affection. The real surprise came a moment later when her lips met his in a passionate kiss. Not one to be rude, Pacian recovered from his momentary shock and went along with it, his most secret dream coming true at last. He did his best to keep from crying out at the sharp pains in his body as she held him close.

"Are you okay? Did they touch you?" Pacian asked after they had finally separated.

"They were a little rough with me, but simply locked me up in here as soon as we arrived," Nellise explained, glancing up and down his bloodied form. "Good God, you're a wreck! What must you have gone through to get me out of here I wonder?"

"I'd do it all again and then some, if it led me back to you," Pacian breathed, speaking from his heart for the first time without fear of rejection or judgement. "I'll always come for you, Nel."

"Damn you, Pace," Nellise whispered, her golden eyes staring straight into his. "How can you be so endearing, yet so broken at the same time?" She seemed to hear her own words and recovered her composure a little before speaking in a more business-like tone. "Right, well let's get Tosh and the others and return to the city and see you mended. Where is he, anyway? He said help was on the way and he was going to make sure I was safe until you arrived." Pacian, in the midst of heading out the door, froze in place.

"He said what?"

"Tosh was holding them off until help arrived," Nellise explained. "He whispered through a crack in the wall over there that everything was going to be fine, and he was right. He even disguised himself as one of them so he could move about freely. Three of the king's council had actually been involved with the MacAlieses, if you can believe that — they were the ones that seized me during the fight in the Royal Hall. Do you know, I think they were planning to flood the place with magma from deep in the earth? Such madness!"

Pacian remained silent, his mind whirling at the possibilities. Nellise's buoyant mood lasted only as long as it took for her to step past him and gaze down upon the lifeless body of Sergeant MacIntosh.

"Oh no," she whispered, kneeling down and checking for a pulse. Pacian knew she would find no signs of life — he was too good at his job. "They must have discovered his identity and killed him."

"Yeah... I guess so," Pacian mumbled, his mind reviewing the events of the evening that had led him to the conclusion that Tosh had betrayed them. It had all been guesswork on his part until he ran into Sloane out in the tunnels, but she had confirmed his suspicions.

He was about to tell Nellise of this when something about his discussion with Sloane didn't seem to fit. He had been the one to first mention Tosh's betrayal — the devious woman had lied through her teeth to confuse and mislead him, filling his head with paranoid nonsense. Pacian had been played, and in that respect, Sloane had won, with Tosh paying the ultimate price.

Pacian began to shake uncontrollably, and he would have fallen to the ground had it not been for the steady hands of Nellise. The efforts of the incredibly long day had finally caught up with him, and the anger that had sustained him through it all evaporated at the sight of his fallen friend, the image of Tosh's look of shock and horror during his final moments etched into his mind.

Wracked with pain and guilt, he slumped to the ground next to the body of a man he had barely met, yet had turned out to be one of the more reliable people he had ever known. And he had killed him. He had killed him with his own dagger. Pacian spat out a string of vile curses and punched the stone ground again and again, heedless of the blood coming from his broken knuckles. Unable to contain himself, he broke down and cried with Nellise holding him close, oblivious to the true source of his turmoil.

* * *

Try as he might, Pacian couldn't bring himself to confess to Tosh's murder. The look of open adoration from Nellise would surely vanish, should she learn the truth. Pacian had worked hard to foster both her respect and her love, for something deep within him yearned for both, and he wasn't about to ruin that over a misunderstanding. The truth wouldn't bring Tosh back to life.

They rested in the diplomatic suite for two days to mend their wounds, and also to give the dwarves time to put down the uprising. The MacAliese's had apparently been at work on this plan long before Pacian and the others had arrived, for their crazy cousins from Ferrumgaard had managed to infiltrate many places within the city, and their allies were proving to be difficult to quell.

Valennia had survived, through the grace of the dwarven god of battle, Relnak. Nellise looked as if she had a great deal to say on the subject of a pagan god, but she wisely kept her mouth shut, grateful simply for the akoran woman's continued existence.

Sayana's singed hair had been cut back, and Nellise had enjoyed spending a great deal of time playing with what remained. There was something about women doing each other's hair that seemed to sooth them greatly, Pacian observed.

Sayana was left with a short braid of hair that was tied at the back of her neck, with curly bangs framing her face in a way that accentuated her large green eyes. Her slightly pointed ears were visible, which made her a little self-conscious despite the assurances of her friends.

Of the death of Tosh, she said nothing, but Pacian could swear that there was an accusatory look in her eyes when she gazed at him. If she knew of his crime however, he was uncertain why she remained quiet on the matter.

Pacian spent his time in bed, occasionally dozing off into a fitful sleep, and other times merely resting as Nellise bathed him in her healing presence. His physical wounds were healing rapidly, but he couldn't shake the mental scars so easily. When he slept, Pacian relived the events of the past few days in startling detail. He would awaken relieved with the knowledge that Tosh was still alive, only to remember what had happened, and feel the despair of his crime once more.

On the morning of the third day after the fight, they were finally summoned to see the king. Signs of the city's recent turmoil still lingered, even two days after the uprising, and heavily armed soldiers were everywhere. Despite this, the people were going about their daily lives as normal, repairing damaged shopfronts and sweeping up the mess left behind by the rampaging horde.

Word had reached them in the diplomatic suite that nearly five hundred men and women had been involved in the riot, a good number of them the MacAliese's from Ferrumgaard, spurring on the fighting from within the crowds.

Presently, the entourage arrived at the Royal Halls, which were inundated with soldiers at every entrance. Clearly, King Sulinus was taking no chances with regards to security, and the stern warriors of Stonegaard were poised to put down any unruly behaviour. Although Pacian and his companions weren't heavily armed, the suspicious eyes of the guards never left them as they passed into the Halls.

"You'd think they would show some respect," Valennia remarked. "We were largely responsible for preventing the overthrow of their king, after all."

"They were betrayed from within their own ranks," Nellise softly reminded them. "I think we can forgive them for tightening security." Pacian found it disconcerting to be the focus of so many authoritarian figures, but he kept quiet and followed the cleric into the inner sanctum.

The place had been thoroughly cleaned in the intervening days since the initial assault had taken place, and try as he might, Pacian couldn't see any stains of blood on the carpets or stone floor. At the end of the hall, seated once more upon his golden throne was King Sulinus, who watched their approach with quiet patience. Only two counsellors stood by his side this time — the chamberlain and one of the younger dwarves they had met previously, both of them dressed in their finest robes of state.

"Thank you for responding to His Majesty's request so promptly," the Chamberlain intoned as they stopped a few yards from the throne. "He is in your debt for the services you have rendered for the people of Stonegaard, and thanks you for your patience over the past two days while the situation was dealt with."

"Have recent events caused His Majesty to lose the ability to speak for himself?" Pacian asked in a somewhat churlish manner.

"You don't care much for formalities, do ya?" Sulinus replied evenly, surprising his staff by stepping down from his throne and moving to stand before the small group. His long hair was plaited, as was his beard and the bags under his eyes suggested many sleepless nights.

"I think we've done enough to warrant speaking together as regular people," Pacian clarified, ignoring Nellise's shocked glance.

"I've just about had it up to here with such nonsense meself," Sulinus agreed, surprisingly. His words lost the veneer of stiff formality and spoke in a more relaxed cadence. "Don't hold it against me staff, they're just doin' their jobs. I'll speak plain and true — ye've saved me city, but more'n that, ye've saved me life as well. If ya hadn't been here to fend off those mad bastards, the whole city woulda been plunged into chaos." The last was addressed directly to Valennia, who seemed to straighten with pride at these words.

"It was a worthy battle," she replied. "It should hold me for a while."

"Heh, I like this one," Sulinus said to the chamberlain over his shoulder, who managed a slight smile in response. "Ya got beat upon real bad, but I'm pleased to see Relnak saw fit to reward ya for yer efforts with continued life. Rest assured, I'm gonna throw in me own reward as well, not just fer savin' me worthless hide, but as recompense for the bloody awful time ye've had in Stonegaard since ye've arrived. That goes for all of ya, in case ye were wondering."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Nellise said with a brief curtsy. "The role of a king is a difficult one, but I don't think of your 'hide' as 'worthless' by any measure."

"Thank you, Madam Ambassador, but I know my own value," Sulinus sighed, his speech becoming more formal for a brief moment. "Ya have to understand — when we fled the fall of Ferrumgaard, me people were in complete despair. Just about all of the nobility were dead, and it fell to community leaders to hold us together. People like me father. Aielund was of great assistance to us at the time, giving us this mountain range to carve a new home out of, but it took years."

"When me father passed, I took on most of his duties, and I was eventually named the new king o' the dwarves. Though there were a few o' the MacAliese clan still about, the people blamed the last king for so many deaths during the tragedy and weren't likely to let another of their blood sit on the throne. Me guess is they was harbouring some resentment from that decision."

"The seeds of this uprising were sown during those dark days," Chamberlain MacKenner added solemnly.

"It goes deeper than that, Majesty," Nellise added, going into further detail about the real cause of Ferrumgaard's demise, and the mad dwarves that had plotted revenge for their fall from grace as a result."

"They were going to what?" Sulinus barked when he heard of the plot to flood Stonegaard with lava.

"It's true," Sayana chimed in. "I fought an earth shaman down below, and she had been stirring up the molten rock deep within the ground for weeks. If we hadn't stopped her, it would have risen up and boiled your city alive, or quite possibly have blown the top off the mountain."

"And Old Hamish was crazy enough to go along with this plan?" the king inquired.

"I don't think he quite knew what his cousins were capable of," Sayana explained. "In the end, he found out and they turned on him pretty quickly. He'd already committed treason, however, so he had nowhere else to turn. I think he came at me just so he could die with some dignity. I'm not sure having an axe split his skull was very dignified, however." At the mention of the axe, Sulinus' eyes lit up.

"Thanesedge... do you have it?" he inquired, the eagerness plainly heard in his voice.

"Unfortunately, it slipped into the lava along with Hamish's body," she replied quietly. "It didn't melt right away, but it was beyond saving. It's gone."

"Underground, it's called 'magma', lass," Sulinus remarked, unable to hide the disappointment behind a casual statement. "The loss of the axe is a bit of bad news, to be sure. It would have made me job a lot easier, but I'll have to make do without it now. Uniting the clans has been a goal of mine fer decades. At least this debacle has allowed me to purge some of the more treasonous bastards from me city, and for that, I thank ye again."

"Enough with the thanks," Pacian blurted. "We came here for a specific reason, and we've wasted time helping you out with your endless problems. You'd better have that bloody sceptre, or you're going to be in debt to Aielund for a long time."

"Ah yes, the Sceptre of Oblivion," Sulinus replied, unperturbed by Pacian's brusque manner. "We've been a little busy around here of late, as ya may have heard, yet I did set the head of the reliquary to the task of tracking down yer little toy. I'm sorry to tell you this, but we have no record of any such device on the books."

"Nothing at all?" Nellise inquired, giving Pacian a placating gesture to calm him down.

"Look, we lost a lot of knowledge during the exodus," Sulinus explained. "Centuries of notes, not to mention valuables, were left behind in our haste to save as many people as we could. It's possible it might still be back there in Ferrumgaard, deep within the earth, but the master of the reliquary has been around for a couple of centuries and he swears he never saw the thing on the books even before all that happened. I'm sorry, but as far as we're concerned, it doesn't exist."

"I see," Nellise replied, crestfallen. She looked around at her companions, but there was nothing she could really say to them.

"As I said, I'll make it up to ya," Sulinus promised. "If ya can stay here for a few more days, I'll have me personal armourer and weapon smith see that you carry our finest equipment with ya back to yer city. I see you already have one of our daggers there, lad," he added, pointing to the gleaming vythiric dagger on Pacian's belt.

"It was a gift from one of your soldiers," Pacian explained, his voice devoid of emotion as he recalled the face of Tosh as he plunged that dagger into his back. "He fell during the fighting."

"Sergeant MacIntosh, yes I was informed," Sulinus nodded solemnly. "He was a good man, and a loyal soldier. He'll be missed." Pacian didn't trust himself to speak, struggling with the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him once more. Nellise put a comforting arm around his shoulder and squeezed, which helped him a little, but he remained silent for the rest of their meeting. When they finally left to return to the inn, Pacian's introspection illuminated one little fact of that last, fateful battle next to the lava pool.

"Sy, when you killed Hamish with the axe, his body just kind of... slumped onto the ground, as I recall," he remarked.

"That's how I remember it, yes," the red-haired girl replied.

"Then how did his body suddenly topple into the lake like that?" he pressed, suspecting the truth but wanting to judge her reaction first. She held her silence for a long moment, which garnered the curiosity of the other two.

"I guess the ground it was sitting on was a bit uneven," she finally answered, trying to sound casual but failing to impress.

"You're a terrible liar, Sy," he drawled. "Why don't you leave that to the professionals, and just tell us the truth."

"I pushed it in," she said without further hesitation, as if she knew her lie wouldn't be believed.

"What?" Valennia exclaimed. "That weapon was magnificent. Why would you destroy it like that?"

"A leader shouldn't need to rely on a symbol — he should just become a better leader," Sayana answered simply. They all pondered this little bit of wisdom as they headed back through the bustling city, and a thought occurred to Pacian.

"I hope Aiden can find that sceptre, or we're going to have to figure out some other way of stopping this Ironlord thing," he muttered quietly, drawing a look of consternation from Nellise.

Chapter Fourteen

Beyond the magical shield's impenetrable barrier was a world frozen in time. A large, open area of barren dirt separated Aiden and his weary companions from the stairs, and the base of the tower. The rippling surface of the shield above had prevented any rainfall to the ground since the fall of the city. Not a single blade of grass could be seen on the field, and each step sent a small cloud of dust drifting across the windless plain.

The desolate field was a couple of hundred yards across, and bordered by the remnants of high buildings, their stone walls built solidly enough to withstand the test of time. The tower itself had been partially destroyed during the initial earthquakes that struck the city, and rubble the size of cows was strewn around the base of the shattered tower, with large sections of jagged stone jutting out of the torn ground.

Aiden was in awe of the surreal scene and stepped slowly across the empty field with the others, the sound of their quiet footfalls accompanied only by the subtle hum of the barrier. There was no sign of any life here at all and the idea that the druid's new leader, the one who had brought them to the brink of destruction, might somehow have been living here for months was ridiculous.

The four of them walked slowly amongst the ruins, threading their way through the giant slabs of broken stone as they made their way towards the tower. From what Aiden could see, the main doors were still standing, despite some heavy damage from the fallen stone and with any luck, the secrets he sought lay just beyond. The prospect of finding the Sceptre of Oblivion buried within, as well as other hidden treasure, was tantalising.

"I've found something," Ronan whispered from just up ahead. Aiden hurried through the small maze of shattered stone to see the sailor crouched over a pile of bones on the ground. A tattered brown robe was partially covering the remains, and one of the skeletal hands was clutching a small staff.

"Perhaps the remains of that wizard you spoke of?" Sir William suggested.

"No, he never actually touched the ground in the vision I saw," Aiden replied. Maggie moved in for a closer look, and spent a few moments searching through the bones.

"These are only a few months old, at the most," she said. "The robe is the kind my order wears... I think I know who this was."

"A friend of yours?" Ronan drawled.

"Yes, actually, and the last time I saw him, he was heading into the ruins to search for something. He was the Enlightened One, the leader of the order and our spiritual compass. I knew him simply as Calum. I had thought this was the man who was leading the others, yet part of me knew he couldn't be. He would never have advocated the destruction of a city, nor would he have expunged me from the order."

Quite right, a soft, clear voice said within their minds. Aiden looked around in surprise, unsure who had spoken when he noticed something strange. The rocks and the ground upon which they sat were distorted, warped as if he were looking at them through water. There was a sensation of movement past where Ronan was standing and as Aiden watched, the distorted vision coalesced into a massive shape of familiar appearance.

A dragon, its hide shimmering as the illusion of rock and earth fell away, towered before them with one of its claws already in motion. Ronan, as stunned as the rest of them by the sudden appearance, was struck on the side of his body, and thrown onto the ground.

His feet frozen in place, Aiden could only gape up at the dragon in terror. Its sleek reptilian face was familiar to him, but his mind refused to process this information. He was shoved towards the tower doors by Sir William, the knight throwing his shield up to deflect another strike from the dragon's claws.

Sparks flew from his shield as the two men crashed through the doorway, with Maggie's diminutive form darting past them just before the dragon struck at the ground where they had been standing a moment before, the force of the blow throwing a cloud of dirt into the air.

Aiden stumbled over some rocks on the floor of the tower as he scrambled away from the door. His heart pounding in his chest, Aiden's mind reeled at the thought of a dragon awaiting them just outside the doors. He quelled his rising panic and tried to remain calm.

The morning light was finding its way through cracks in the wall as well as a few small windows. A stairwell was visible nearby, though most of the stairs were broken and useless. Walls had fallen down within, leaving an open space nearly twenty-five yards across, filled with rubble and debris. The sound of Ronan screaming in pain could be heard from outside, and Aiden stared in terror at the door.

Your friend still lives, for the moment, the dragon said as clearly as if it were speaking into Aiden's ear. This situation will change depending on how quickly you follow my instructions. Aiden could hear heavy steps as the dragon shifted its bulk outside the broken tower doors, though it was far too large to enter. Maggie huddled in a far corner, her eyes wide with fear and Sir William simply seemed to be struggling with the sudden change in their situation.

"Who are you?" Aiden shouted, gathering his courage.

I am known to humanity as Vindictus Spitefury, the Unseen Terror, came the reply. You have something I want — Aiden Wainwright, you carry upon your person a key to passing through the barrier. Give it to me, and I will let you leave in peace.

Aiden looked down to his hand, where he still grasped the amethyst he had removed from the stone to bring them back to reality. He felt around in his pouches for a moment before realising that he had dropped the stone itself during the dragon's initial attack. It was out there on the ground, somewhere, though the dragon didn't yet realise it.

"Why do you want it?" Aiden asked, stalling for time, "and how did you come to be in this city?"

I have been here for many years, tiny mortal, the dragon purred. I descended upon the helpless creatures of this city and struck them down, sending those I did not kill fleeing into the night. The owner of this tower was not so easily dispatched. He fought with lightning and fire, and nothing I did could touch him. So, I destroyed his tower and sent him plummeting to his death.

"You did not kill him," Aiden shouted defiantly. "He exists still, in the Aether!"

He was defeated — that is all that matters, the dragon hissed back. His last act was to invoke this shield that surrounds us even now, trapping me within as the city fell. Unable to escape, I have slept these last eighty years and more, dreaming of freedom and continuing my crusade against humanity.

"Ronan is out there, dying," Maggie whispered urgently. "Can't you just give it the key?"

"It was in my hands when the dragon attacked," Aiden whispered back. "It's out there on the ground somewhere." The tower shook from a violent impact, showering them with dust and small rocks.

I do not like being ignored, Vindictus warned them. Bring me the key, Aiden, so I can continue my work. Corrupting the priests of this forest proved to be ineffective — I must take to the skies once more and return this land to its natural state through more persuasive methods.

Aiden glanced at Maggie, who seemed to register the news that the dragon was responsible for everything that had happened to her order. Her expression changed from fear to one of determination.

"We cannot let this fiend loose upon the world once more," Sir William advised grimly, "or other cities will suffer the same fate as Feybourne."

Ronan screamed again, and Aiden closed his tired eyes and tried to think for a moment. If they could somehow get out there and find the stone and then gather up Ronan, they would be able to escape and leave the dragon trapped here. How to achieve this was beyond him — Vindictus had them right where he wanted them, almost as if this had been planned. Again, the tower shook from a powerful impact as the dragon made its feelings known.

I am growing impatient, it hissed in their minds.

"How do you know my name?" Aiden asked, suspicious of this whole situation. "I suspect that your ability to speak in our minds does not let you read them."

You are incorrect, though that does take considerable effort on my part, Vindictus replied casually. But in your case, my methods were far more devious. I was awakened by the arrival of the druid you referred to as the Enlightened One. I never bothered to learn his name, and after I had made a meal of him, I searched his belongings and discovered a curious artifact, no doubt recovered from within this very city. You might recognise it, Aiden. Come closer to the door and I will show you. I give you my word you shall not be harmed.

"Don't listen to him," Sir William hissed as Aiden, his curiosity driving him forward, stepped closer to the large crack in the door. Through it, he saw the dragon's scaled wing and in its claw was the object of which he had spoken — a crystal sphere. Aiden unconsciously reached up and grasped the shard that hung around his neck, the fragment of a similar sphere broken years ago.

Yes, now you understand, came the dragon's smug response. It was I who spoke within your dreams, guiding you to the crypt where you were to find the only method that would allow you entry to the tower. You are here by MY design. What, did you think it was Salinder? He grows old, little human, and sleeps more and more as his time draws to an end. The two of you have had such interesting communications lately. I found it all highly entertaining.

Aiden let out a strangled cry of frustration — he had been manipulated by Vindictus into this trap, and they were all going to pay the price for it. Their only chance for survival was to relinquish the key, in turn unleashing the dragon on an unsuspecting world while trapping them here forever.

"Sir William is right — we can't let it escape, or it'll wreak havoc," Aiden whispered stubbornly, sharing a look of understanding with the old knight.

"How in Gaea's name do you suggest we do that?" Maggie hissed, her disbelief accentuated by another blow to the tower that shook them to the core. "I want it dead as much as anyone, but we simply don't have the means." Thinking of what he had at his disposal, Aiden quickly rummaged through his pack and pulled out a scroll left over from Alain's place, and the gauntlet he had been given.

He scanned the ancient script upon the scroll and determined that it was some sort of mind enhancing incantation, which unfortunately wouldn't help with their current situation. Instead, Aiden focused upon the gauntlet, taking out the cube and quickly scrolling through the information presented on its shimmering, mirage-like pages to see if there was some information about the relic. The runes and glyphs etched upon the ancient metal gauntlet were identical to those within its ephemeral pages, and he was certain that he could figure out how to work it with enough time.

I smell power, Vindictus purred within their minds. And knowledge — you have found a functioning Lexicon? I demand you give me it as well! Obey me, or I will ensure your friend dies slowly! Aiden looked up at the dragon visible through the gap in astonishment — Vindictus knew what he had, both fearing and desiring the relic. Aiden went back to his study, guessing that it wouldn't dare risk the destruction of the cube or the key with its fiery breath. Sir William's hand suddenly appeared upon his, pushing aside the gauntlet.

"Let it go, Aiden," he advised quietly.

"I can do it," Aiden replied frantically. "It might offer protection, or it could even be—"

"I will deal with him," Sir William said. Aiden stopped what he was doing and looked up at the old man in disbelief. His calm, steady demeanour indicated he had not suddenly gone insane, but there was more than that — William looked like he was ready to die.

"Don't you even think about going out there," Aiden warned as the old knight stepped back and readied his shining shield. "You can't fight it by yourself, that thing is huge."

"Then it will be very easy to hit," Sir William answered evenly. "Besides, I have this on my side," he added, drawing Solas Aingeal from its sheath and driving the point into the ground. He then knelt before it and began to whisper in prayer. Maggie stared at the praying knight for a long moment, and then stood and walked over to him. She laid a hand on his shoulder, her crystal in her other hand as she too, began to pray.

"I don't believe this," Aiden muttered in exasperation. "You're going to help him?"

"I can offer a little protection from fire, which I think might come in handy," she replied softly, her eyes still closed.

I don't know what's going on in there, but I'm giving you one minute to hand over that which I have demanded, Vindictus warned. Ronan screamed again, sending a chill down Aiden's spine.

"Is God going to slay that thing for you?" he asked of Sir William, ignoring the dragon's continued threats.

"I must have faith," the knight replied, looking back at the young man. "I was given this blade because darkness is walking our land once more. Why would the archieros bestow upon me this weapon, if it were not to fight a monster like that?"

"That weapon was made to fight demons, not a dragon," Aiden corrected him.
"I believe they can be one and the same," Sir William insisted, clearly placing all of his faith in that weapon. "I will attempt to distract it — should I succeed, you must see to Ronan's health and recover the key." Maggie, her prayer finished, hugged the old man close from behind, and he laid a hand upon her arms in gratitude for her display of affection. He then stood and raised his sword, but Aiden stepped in his way before he could go.

"If you go through those doors, you'll die," he whispered one last time to change his mind. The old man smiled wanly, and his eyes misted over a little as he looked back at him.

"That's all right, Aiden," he replied, "because until this moment, I have never truly lived." He clapped down his visor and pushed Aiden aside, stepping through the crack in the door and striding out to face his doom.

Expecting him to be obliterated the moment he walked outside, Aiden crouched at the doorway and watched intently. Maggie leaned against him, her tiny hand working its way into his and holding tight.

I have no interest in you, warrior, Vindictus said with disdain. Unless, of course, you are about to hand over the two relics I desire.

"I will do no such thing," Sir William replied, his sword held low as he courageously moved to stand before the dragon. "The arch mage of this place sacrificed his life to see you imprisoned, and I will not tarnish his noble deed with betrayal."

Vindictus was crouched low, with its tail swaying about nearly fifty feet behind it. Its wings were folded, with one of the claws resting upon Ronan's prone body.

Then you will have the pleasure of watching me kill your friend, only to take his place, and we shall start the process over again, Vindictus purred, teasing Ronan's body with a single, blood-stained claw. Ronan was looking up at the knight, mouthing a distinctive word — "run".

"I once read that dragons used to be noble and benevolent creatures," Sir William said, ignoring the sailor's silent advice. "It saddens me to think how far you have fallen. I sense nothing from you but a seething anger that will not be placated."

Then you know what you face if you continue to defy me! The dragon roared, the sudden volume in Aiden's head almost splitting his skull. Sir William staggered back a step, but recovered and held his ground.

"You have experienced much pain and loss in your long life, I would say," he continued under the dragon's piercing gaze. "In your voice I hear the longing for it all to end, though you may not admit it to yourself. You have become a tiny, angry shriek in a world that has passed you by and doesn't even remember your name. I would release you from this existence, fallen one. Come to me, and I will take you to the destruction you seek."

Sir William raised Solas Aingeal up, ready to fight, and something astonishing happened. A plume of white fire ignited along the length of its blade and past the tip until the sword appeared to have doubled in length. A soft radiance lit the area and the dragon, incensed at the knight's taunting, recoiled from the pure light of the holy sword before bellowing out a mighty roar, baring its teeth as it forgot all about Ronan and lunged at the old knight.

Ready for this attack, Sir William held his ground and swung the blazing sword in his hand as the snout of Vindictus dove at him. The fiery edge cut across its maw and sliced straight through, searing its scaly flesh and forcing him to pull back, roaring in pain. With blood dripping from its maw, Vindictus opened wide and inhaled a deep breath before breathing fire upon the knight.

Sir William dove to one side, aiming for a slab of stone as a torrent of green flame erupted around him. He barely made it, slamming into the ground as his feet were covered in the incredible heat. Aiden recoiled from the blast, even at this distance and worried that the old knight had been cooked alive in his armour.

Maggie's prayer had saved him, however, for Sir William managed to drag himself behind the stone, still alive. Vindictus reached forward with one of its massive claws and sought to gouge him out from behind it, but Sir William saw it coming and sliced Solas Aingeal down, severing one of its talons in one clean sweep. Vindictus roared in agony and lurched backward, its maimed claw steaming from the holy flame. This gave the knight the time he needed to get back on his feet and press the attack.

"Aielund forever!" he cried as he charged in, sweeping his blade back and forth, forcing the dragon on the defensive as it recoiled from the weapon's terrible sting. Vindictus wasn't finished yet however, and set its cruel eyes upon his tiny opponent, waiting for the opportunity to strike. After one of the knight's sweeping attacks, the dragon struck with lightning speed.

The razor-sharp talons cut through his antiquated armour baring the heraldic symbol of the rose eagle upon it, drawing a stream of blood and sending the old man sprawling to one side. Somehow, he kept his footing and spun around, bringing Solas Aingeal's deadly blade across in a blistering attack that gashed the dragon's wing.

Vindictus recoild from the hit, and flapped both wings to batter the knight, forcing him to raise his shield and try to cover himself. The wings kicked up a storm of dust from the desiccated ground, obscuring the battle.

"Now's our chance," Maggie whispered. "We go and retrieve Ronan, bringing him back here so I can help him, and then you can go and look for the key." Aiden nodded, and the two of them crept out of the shattered tower and slowly made their way through the choking dust towards the place they had last seen the wounded sailor.

The sounds of the battle taking place only yards away set Aiden's nerves on edge, though he resisted the urge to flee, taking one step at a time towards their fallen comrade. Sure enough, Ronan was right where they had last seen him.

"We've got you," Aiden whispered, taking Ronan by the shoulders and attempting to drag him back towards the tower.

Maggie added her meagre strength to the task, and they were aided further still as the light of Solas Aingeal sliced through the choking dust, striking the side of the dragon and drawing from it another agonised roar. Aiden pushed his back through the broken doors of the tower and fell onto the floor, dragging Ronan the last few feet inside to relative safety.

"I'll take it from here, see if you can find the key," Maggie advised, carefully opening up Ronan's leathers and witnessing the bloody mess underneath. "In Gaea's name, how are you still alive?" she breathed.

"Painfully," Ronan quipped with a strangled voice.

"Hang in there, you're going to make it," Aiden assured the sailor, managing to keep the fear out of his voice for a moment. Turning to look out over the battlefield, Aiden calmed his nerves and took a few deep breaths, then headed back out.

Almost immediately, the air was lit by another blast of dragonfire. Fortunately, it wasn't aimed in Aiden's direction. He scrambled behind a stone slab that jutted out of the ground and began searching around for signs of the small stone. He groaned inwardly, realising that he was looking for a needle in a haystack that was covered in a cloud of dust, and also there was a dragon trying to kill them. No pressure.

Nevertheless, he tried to picture where he had been when Vindictus revealed himself, and began crawling around, sifting through the dirt with his gloved hands looking for a slightly different rock than all the other little rocks. He hadn't been too far from the tower's doors at the time, and he focused his search in that general area.

A huge chunk of rock suddenly flew past him, gouging the ground as it rolled unevenly to a stop a few yards away. Aiden whirled around and saw through the slowly clearing dust cloud that Vindictus was keeping his distance from the knight's deadly weapon, and had begun throwing pieces of masonry at him.

Throwing caution to the wind, Vindictus charged across the field, leaping over the obstructions upon the ground and shoving Sir William aside as he was caught off-guard by the sudden movement.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aiden spotted the small, enchanted stone, partially obscured upon the ground by dirt and as he lunged for it, a massive claw slammed down inches from his extended arm.

Aiden recoiled, pulling back behind the slab of stone as the dragon's gaping maw snapped where he had been a moment before. Sheltering behind a nearby rock, Aiden cursed as he saw the fight edge closer, making his job that much more difficult. Then Aiden remembered he had other options available.

Extending his palm, he pictured the magical ring on his finger once more and spoke the word of command. He struggled to concentrate through the noise of the fight, but succeeded and with a gesture, pulled the stone towards him. It tumbled across the ground at first, but then flew through the air and landed in his open palm.

Without hesitation Aiden whirled around, intending to rush straight back into the tower but found the dragon standing in front of the door, his hungry, bloodshot eyes staring directly at the enchanted key in his hand. Aiden stared back, knowing it was the only thing preventing the dragon from burning him to death.

Sir William suddenly emerged at the dragon's side, Solas Aingeal slicing a vicious scar along its flank. Bellowing with rage, Vindictus slammed its wing down on the old knight, who raised his gleaming shield to protect himself. Although heavily buffeted, Sir William continued to slash at the side of the dragon, his blade striking true each time.

His attacks were pushing Vindictus away from the door, so Aiden crouched and waited for a few moments, then rushed past and dove through the doorway.

Now Aiden just had to figure out how to pull Sir William out of the fight without getting them all killed. He placed the key and the amethyst on the ground next to the raelani druid, and then drew his rather plain sword, pausing for a moment to catch his breath.

"This is a really bad idea," he muttered to himself as he peered out through the doorway, gripping the hilt of his blade tightly. Vindictus was fully preoccupied trying to keep Solas Aingeal away from his wounded hide, but Sir William was visibly tiring now, with each swing a little slower than the last.

The old knight threw all of his remaining strength into a final lunge, the blazing tip of his sword pointed straight at the heart of the dragon. It pierced its hide, a mortal blow if ever Aiden had seen one.

The dragon's roar shook the foundations of the tower, and in response it snapped up Sir William's armoured body in its jaws. The sound of the foot-long fangs crushing the knight was terrible, and Solas Aingeal fell from his grasp as he was picked up and thrashed about, like a dog tearing into a piece of meat.

Aiden heard himself cry out in dismay at the sight as the dragon threw Sir William against the side of the tower, nearly twenty feet up. The broken, armoured form of the valiant knight tumbled down the side and crashed to the ground. Vindictus leaned heavily to one side, his flanks rising and falling in ragged gasps, but he was still very alive.

That cursed blade... he muttered within Aiden's mind, the words sounding as weak as he looked. Now, I believe you have something of mine, Aiden. He was prepared to charge it and strike it down, even at the cost of his own life, when a light touch on his right arm prompted him to look down.

"Stand aside, Aiden," Maggie instructed, her voice tight and her gaze locked upon the dragon. He moved to one side, affording the tiny woman a direct view of their enemy as she raised one hand, generating a cascade of water up in front of her.

With a quiet, spoken word, a great wind rose across the isolated landscape, whipping up a dust storm that buffeted the dragon before she spoke again, and the water in front of her turned to ice and shattered, raining hundreds of foot-long spikes upon Vindictus. He howled in fury as he was pummelled by the storm of ice that shattered upon his wounded hide.

Maggie then raised her hands and a bolt of lightning shot down, striking the dragon on the head and scorching him. She called down another bolt and this time, the mortally wounded beast fell to the ground, shaking the tower from his sheer bulk and coming to rest not far from where Sir William had fallen.

The wind died down and the storm evaporated as Maggie released her crystal and leaned heavily against Aiden, both of them breathing heavily from the adrenaline that still pumped through their veins.

Silence descended upon the field once more, interrupted only by the distant hum of the barrier around them. Aiden held Maggie close as the two slowly walked out to where Sir William's body laid upon the ground. Behind them, the shuffling sound of Ronan getting back on his feet could be heard, as the wounded sailor hobbled out to join them by their fallen comrade's side.

His sacrifice had bought them the time they had needed to rescue Ronan and retrieve the key, yet the price seemed too high. In the end, the world-weary knight had given his all to help his friends in a display of courage, skill and faith that Aiden would never forget. He felt a tear cascade down his cheek as he looked down upon the crumpled and bloodied form of their companion, too overwhelmed to say anything.

Suddenly, the body of the knight twitched, and an arm rose up to lift the visor. Aiden gasped, unsure what was happening as Sir William took off his helmet and sat upright, much to the astonishment of the others. He looked around, puzzled for a moment, but despite the battered appearance of his armour he seemed to be very much alive.

"I... what happened?" he asked, just as bewildered as they were.

"You were killed... or not, I guess?" Ronan mumbled uncertainly.

"There's no way you could have survived," Aiden exclaimed, staring up at the tower as he recalled just how far he had fallen. "Vindictus chewed you up and spat you out, even before you fell."

"Wait, that dragon isn't about to get up again is it?" Ronan asked, staggering backwards in alarm. Maggie released Aiden from her grip and stepped over to the knight's side. He thought she was going to check him for wounds, but instead, she reached around his neck and pulled out a small silver necklace, at the end of which was a lump of charcoal set into a sliver of jade.

"Well how about that, it worked," Maggie remarked casually, holding it up for the others to see. Aiden stared at it, unsure why it looked familiar.

"That's the amulet Alain gave you," he blurted in sudden recognition. Maggie nodded and smiled slightly.

"It used to be a diamond. I guess it turns to coal when it's used," she shrugged. "Alain said it was supposed to stave off death, but I wasn't quite sure it would actually work. Fortunately for you, it did."

"But I wasn't wearing it — you were," Sir William exclaimed, but Aiden had the answer.

"You slipped it around his neck when you hugged him, didn't you?" he said with a sudden realization. "Mags, you are a clever, devious little woman." He couldn't help but laugh with relief as he offered a hand to Sir William and helped him to his feet. The others joined in, the joyful sound mixed with the feeling of triumph snatched quite literally from the jaws of death.

Chapter Fifteen

The return journey to Fairloch was quick and comfortable, thanks to the carriage that had been provided to Pacian and the ladies. After four days of rest at the dwarven city, King Sulinus had presented each of them with a reward for their bravery. Pacian would have been far more satisfied had he produced the damned sceptre they had come for in the first place.

He couldn't really complain however, for Nellise had extracted an oath of service from the dwarven king, promising to come to Aielund's defence when the time was right. More importantly however, he also provided each of them with the finest equipment they could offer.

Pacian fidgeted in his seat, as the vythiric chain shirt he wore under his warm winter clothing pinched him every now and then. Next to him sat Sayana, the red-headed young woman looking decidedly different with her shorter hair. She had received armour plates that could be strapped to her arms and legs, as well as a light breastplate, all made of vythir.

Nellise sat across from him, her feet entwined with his in the cramped cabin. Ordinarily, Pacian would have thoroughly enjoyed being couped up with three beautiful women for an entire day, but he had been withdrawn and brooding since the conflict under Stonegaard. The death of Tosh by his own hands plagued his dreams. One night he had awakened, covered in sweat from a nightmare he couldn't remember, only to find Nellise lying in bed with him, stroking his hair until he fell asleep once more.

To experience the worst day of his life at the same time as the culmination of his romantic efforts with the woman of his dreams left Pacian bewildered, and it changed the entire nature of their relationship. He hadn't even tried to make love to her on those nights when she had come to his bed, and he knew then that something was very wrong with him.

Still, the young woman was an endless font of comfort and understanding, and seemed to spend most of the time gazing at Pacian with her golden eyes. If she knew what had really happened with Tosh, her feelings towards him would probably be quite different.

By her side was her repeating crossbow, improved by the craft of the finest artisans the dwarves had to offer. Apparently, the weapon had been unfinished when Clavis was using it out west, and the king's bowyer took it upon himself to turn it into a true representative of their craftsmanship.

Valennia hadn't changed a bit from the recent adventure and once her extensive wounds had healed, she was starting to chafe at the peace they "endured" at the hospitality of the dwarves. This would have been more surprising had he not learned the reasons behind her endless fury.

The tall akoran warrior had been effusive in her praise at the gifts she had received, and should Pacian ever learn her birthday, he'd know just what to get her. Stacked on the back of the carriage was a full suit of infantry plate armour, especially modified to suit her measurements. Valennia had at first insisted on wearing the armour in the carriage, but the driver balked at the damage it would do to his fine leather seats, so she had relented... eventually.

Presently, the steady rocking of the carriage settled down as it rolled along paved roads leading up to the great city of Fairloch. Pacian peered out the window to see the tall stone gates of the city just ahead, as the sun began to touch the horizon in the west.

He had been eagerly awaiting their return for several days now, as every time he looked at a dwarf he felt a pang of guilt in his chest, and he yearned to be free of such unfamiliar feelings. His first stop would be the inn's bar, where there was a keg of ale with his name on it.

Within ten minutes, they were through the gates and into the southern district of Fairloch. Lanterns in the street were being lit by boys and girls paid a copper or two for the work. The carriage lurched to a halt and Pacian immediately opened the door and stepped onto the familiar snow-covered pavement of Fairloch. The smell of the brisk sea air was a stark difference from the stale, sweat-laden warmth of the underground city.

"Are you sure you can't take us straight to the Fair Maiden Inn?" Pacian asked of the driver, a stout fellow sporting a respectable set of mutton chops.

"As I told you before we set out, Mister Savidge," the driver replied curtly, "I only go as far as the Tradeway Tavern and here we are, as per that arrangement. You and your lady friends enjoy your evening, now."

"Don't worry about it, Pace," Nellise chided him. "The walk will do us good."

"Not in this bloody cold air it won't," Pacian grumbled as the other two women stepped out of the carriage and retrieved their equipment from the back. "I could really use a drink."

"You've become so used to the warmth in Stonegaard that it's quite a shock to leave the place," Nellise remarked wistfully. "Still, I think we stayed longer than we should have, given the gravity of our situation."

"I didn't argue the point," Pacian shrugged, "but Sulinus really wanted to give us expensive shiny things instead of magical sceptres as payment. Take it up with him." Nellise gave him a quick smile, which provided Pacian with a momentary thrill that was tempered by the sudden feeling he was being watched.

Glancing around at the crowd of heavily-clothed travellers, he casually searched for anything odd, while making it appear as though he wasn't. The dull background chatter of dozens of people muffled any odd sounds he might hear, yet something still didn't feel right. While the driver was struggling to unload Valennia's armour, Pacian walked a little distance from the carriage and checked one of the narrow alleyways bordering the inn.

Aside from the usual refuse one would normally find down such a passage, there didn't seem to be anything threatening nearby. Then, everything went black as Pacian felt something pulled over his head. He reacted immediately, trying to reach up and rip off whatever was blocking his vision, but his wrists were grabbed by powerful hands and wrenched behind his back.

Pacian thrashed around as he felt himself being dragged along. He managed to kick one of his assailants squarely in his squishy bits, and received a heavy blow to the stomach for his trouble. Pacian doubled over, wheezing for each breath. He lost track of time as his captors took him through the maze of backstreets. Finally, he was dragged through a doorway which slammed shut behind him.

The burlap sack that had obscured his vision came off, and he blinked the dust out of his eyes. A single candle provided light, creating vast shadows which loomed over the wooden walls. Pacian looked upon a small, almost empty room with a single piece of furniture.

A plain wooden chair seated a familiar looking man with a neatly trimmed grey beard, wearing a white robe with the hood pulled up to partially obscure his face. The distinctive glint of metal armour was visible underneath the robe, and a large sword was attached to his belt.

"Archon Cain," Pacian muttered, recalling the inquisitor he had held a knife to less than two weeks ago, in the heart of the Church. He was in more trouble than he thought.

"We meet again, Mister Savidge," confirmed the inquisitor, his hands folded calmly in his lap. "I apologise for the rough handling, but after our last encounter, I felt it wise to take certain precautions. Rest assured, these two gentlemen are professionals, and will not harm you further unless you give them reason to."

"They look like fine, upstanding church folk to me," Pacian drawled.

"I sense a healthy dose of sarcasm there," Cain remarked with a thin smile. "Understand that the Church does not typically employ such people, except in special cases the Inquisition deems appropriate. As wardens of the faith, we are afforded greater latitude to achieve our goals."

"What are your goals, anyway? Going to beat me up for threatening you?"

"Yes, but that is not my primary concern," the archon explained. "Considering the nature of your involvement with Nellise, I made sure to keep an eye on events taking place in Stonegaard of late."

"You were spying on us?" Pacian growled, giving up his attempts to break free of the two thugs.

"On Nellise, specifically, yes," Cain responded. "The information I received indicates she is continuing to flaunt her position betwixt soldier of the Kingdom and representative of the faith, and it appears she has no intention of choosing one or the other. So, it would seem I must choose for her."

"She's not hurting anyone. Why can't you just leave her be?" Pacian protested.

"Word of her exploits is beginning to circulate," Cain explained, his tone conveying some degree of tension. "There are many influential people in Fairloch who would use her as a reason to further restrict the role of the Church, even more than we already are. Words such as 'zealot' and 'militant' are being bandied about, reminding people of the dark times in the Church's past. I will speak this plainly so even you can understand — she cannot continue to represent the faith in her current capacity, plenipotentiary powers or not."

"I don't know what that word means, but if you ask me, she's the best bloody representative you've ever had," Pacian sneered. Cain didn't respond, except to glance at one of the men holding Pacian. The thug punched him in the gut, doubling him over in pain.

"I am not here to debate the issue with you," Cain rasped as Pacian struggled for breath. "More of my associates will meet me near the Fair Maiden Inn, where I shall persuade her to seek the restorative environment of the Keepers of the Light. There, away from dark influences such as yourself, she will find her true path." Pacian recalled his brief time at the monastery in the mountains, filled with "reformed" criminals, and knew Nellise did not belong there.

"If you try to force her, you'll have to get through Val and Sayana first," Pacian said as he gasped for breath.

"Yes, I've heard of their prowess," Cain replied. "An akoran barbarian and a genuine sorceress, who apparently defeated an insurgent army practically single-handed. I'm afraid I'll have to take her in as well, for entirely different reasons. Clearly, the wizards who recently examined her grossly underestimated her capabilities, so she too must be brought into the fold to ensure she doesn't turn into some kind of rampaging monster."

"You might find that more difficult than you imagine," Pacian assured him.

"We are well-versed in dealing with heretic sorcerers, Mister Savidge," Cain retorted. "And if she chooses to fight, she merely damns herself further."

"Do you think this bunch of idiots is going to stop her?" Pacian scoffed, earning him another punch to the gut for his trouble.

"I am more than capable of neutralising her powers for a brief time, rendering her little more than a young woman with an attitude problem. My associates will have no problem dealing with all three of them, and need not involve the Church with this sordid business."

"So... you're the only one that knows all of this?" Pacian asked, struggling to get the words out.

"For now," Cain nodded, standing up. "I like to be discreet in all matters, for the public good. Now, I'm afraid our little chat is at an end. My friends will see to your every comfort — or lack thereof — while I set to my task. Think of this as absolution for your past crimes, Pacian. When it is done, do not think of striking back at myself or the Church, or even the duke won't be able to save you."

Cain walked to the door and opened it up, giving Pacian a brief glimpse of a dark alleyway somewhere in the city before it closed behind the inquisitor. He was then dragged over to the chair and 'invited to sit down' by his two hosts and their large fists. His arms were held behind him, and it appeared they wanted to tie him to the chair for the coming entertainment. But they had made a fatal mistake.

Pacian's two daggers had been taken when he was first grabbed, as were the knives in his boots, but he still had another six small blades tucked into his tunic and sleeves. When his hands were brought together, he was able to take out a knife with each hand from the opposite sleeve and with a flick of his wrist, sliced up the hands of his first captor.

He bellowed like a stuck pig, falling back and staring at his bloodied hands as Pacian took advantage of the shock to bring his arm up and drive his blade into the side of the other thug. The old axiom of "the bigger they are, the harder they fall" proved correct, as the huge man staggered to one side and clutched at the vicious wound.

Pacian kicked the chair out from under him and with firm footing, stabbed and slashed at the first man he'd wounded, his hands all but useless after the initial attack. With the big thug unable to defend himself properly, Pacian soon found the opportunity to slash the man's unprotected throat, forcing him to fall back as he started to bleed out from the mortal wound

Sensing the approach of the other man, Pacian was nonetheless caught by surprise as he was grabbed from behind by a pair of huge arms. Unable to stab at him with his arms pinned, Pacian was forced to rely on other methods. He brought one of his legs up behind him, hoping to connect with something vulnerable and struck gold. The arms released their vice-like grip for a moment, and Pacian managed to turn around and drive both knives straight into the guts of the big thug.

Pacian was staring right into the eyes of the thug as he struggled for breath with two four-inch blades sticking out of his lungs. They were locked together for a long moment as the big man fought to hold onto life, until the strength left his body and he slumped onto the ground, dead. Pacian, his heart racing and his breath coming in short gasps, staggered backward, dropping his knives to the ground as he promptly fell to his knees and threw up.

He sat there dry retching for a good minute or two, until his body realised there was nothing to get rid of. Pacian wiped his mouth and clambered onto his feet, unsure what had just happened, but determined to catch the inquisitor before he reached Nellise. Pacian retrieved his weapons from his fallen opponents and quickly searched their bodies, finding a pouch of copper jacks and a large, rusty key. He went to the door, unsurprised to find it locked, and used the key to make his escape.

A light snowfall dusted the streets, and the temperature was dropping rapidly as more bad weather moved in. Tracks in the snow at his feet seemed to indicate the direction Cain had taken — a winding path through the back alleys of the city. Pacian briefly considered finding his way back to the place where the carriage had dropped them off, but he figured the women would have left there already. His top priority now was to find Cain, and convince him of the error of his ways.

Wiping the remaining spittle from his mouth, Pacian headed off through the maze of back alleys in the poorest part of the city. This area seemed to be used mainly as a dumping ground for rubbish from the nearby buildings, discarded crates and foodstuffs, which seemed to be attracting a lot of rats and a few stray cats that chased them through the refuse. The stench was sickening, further unsettling Pacian's unruly stomach, but he persevered through the muck until he moved into a cleaner area.

Here, the denizens of the night were starting to appear on the backstreets of Fairloch. Prostitutes braving the cold stood near lanterns, waiting to attract the interest of passers-by. Run-down buildings that looked like they had been hastily built over a century ago loomed over him, almost as if they were on the verge of collapsing. The squalor of this part of the city was stark, and a grim contrast to the more affluent parts of the city Pacian had been confined to for most of his visit.

He had lost track of Cain's path long ago, the inquisitor's footsteps intermingled with those of the local population in the snow-covered ground. Pacian was now relying on his sense of direction to guide him towards the Fair Maiden, and he probably had another ten minutes of travel through the rough parts of the city before he had to find a way into the market district.

The districts in Fairloch were walled-off, with a main gate allowing travel through each part. But Cain's footsteps had been leading away from the gate, leaving Pacian to assume he had some other way of getting to the inn.

Immersed in his own thoughts, Pacian suddenly noticed he had attracted the attention of some local inhabitants — two spry looking men and a petite woman, all of which had a dangerous look about them. They had surrounded him in one of the alleyways, leaving him no path of escape that didn't lead past at least one of them.

"Where do you think you're going mate?" asked the man in front of him, arms spread wide in an overly theatrical display of bewilderment. He had a sharp face and simple clothes, although Pacian could tell by the way he moved he had a layer of leathers underneath his winter clothing.

"Going on a little tour of the city, slaying the sights — I mean seeing the sights," Pacian replied blandly.

"Not through our neighbourhood you're not," the sharp faced brigand said. "Not without paying our very reasonable fees."

"I just paid the other bloke down the street, you know... Jimmy," Pacian protested mockingly, not impressed with their little show.

"Think you're funny, don't you," growled the other, shorter man.

"Oh, who's a pretty boy then?" the girl suddenly purred in Pacian's ear, running the edge of a knife along his cheek.

"Shut up, Saffy, you sound like a bloody parrot," the short thief muttered. "I'll get straight to the point, mate — give us your money, or we'll feed you to the dogs one piece at a time."

"As much as I'd love to stay and chat, I have a prior engagement," Pacian replied impatiently. "Just don't stab me in the back with that knife and I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."

"I don't think there's any sort of arrangement we can make that doesn't involve that knife ending up in your back," the sharp faced man sighed, "so Saffy, why don't you just get right to it." Before he had even finished speaking, Pacian felt a dull pain in his back as the tip of the girl's dagger met the unyielding strength of his vythiric chainmail.

Pacian lurched forward, crying out in mock agony to make them think he was badly wounded. With their guard down, he lurched backward and rammed his elbow into her gut, driving the wind from the surprised girl's lungs. Pacian drew his two daggers in the blink of an eye and sensed the approach of the two men. He rolled backward in the snow and came up on his feet, ready to fight them face to face.

The two thieves slashed at him with their daggers, both of them missing their mark as Pacian anticipated each strike and moved to avoid them. His reprisal was met by similar moves on the part of his opponents, each of them agile and slippery and used to fighting in close quarters. With time, Pacian knew he could wear them down, but he just didn't have the patience for this right now.

Trusting fully in his new armour, he left himself open for a straight-on attack to his gut, which the sharp-faced man took advantage of, without delay. He dived in, hoping to finish Pacian off in one strike, but his dagger couldn't penetrate the vythiric chain. Out of position and vulnerable, Pacian had no trouble slamming the pommel of Tosh's dagger into the thief's skull, and smiled with grim satisfaction as the man fell face-first into the snow alongside his female companion, out for the count.

Taking advantage of his new position, Pacian dove at the remaining attacker and cut him on both arms, then kicked him solidly in the gut. Staggering backwards, bleeding profusely from his new wounds and, sensing he was outmatched, the brigand quickly fled the scene, leaving his comrades in crime lying in the snow.

Pausing for a moment to catch his breath, Pacian reversed the hold on his daggers and was about to plunge them into the back of the scumbag lying at his feet, but something stopped him. His arms held in place unmoving with the blades pointed straight for the heart of the sharp-faced bastard.

Ordinarily, he would have no problem ending the life of someone who had tried to kill him. Doubt crept into Pacian's mind as he contemplated finishing off his fallen foes, and after a long moment, he sheathed his weapons once more. The one called Saffy looked up at him with fearful, wide eyes, still clutching her stomach as she tried to recover.

Feeling disgusted with himself, Pacian stepped over their unmoving forms and continued on his way, trying to push the sight of the terrified girl from his mind. Within a few minutes, he was at the wall separating the districts, which he now thought of as the rich people keeping the poor at arm's length.

There was no sign that anyone had walked this close to the wall since the snow had started falling, and he silently wished Sayana was here to read the tracks, or better yet, fly him over the wall. But if Cain had come through here, then there must be a way through.

Some houses were built along parts of the wall, their backs against the stone bricks. Like most of the buildings in this area, they were old and run-down, and any one of them might have a secret door leading through the wall. Pacian silently walked up to the nearest house and tested the door, finding it locked and the windows boarded up.

If this was the location of a secret door, it was a little obvious — the boarded-up front practically screamed "this house is empty and not worth your time." No, the ideal way to hide a secret passage was to make the house blend in to its surroundings. He checked the houses further along the street, and saw only one of them wasn't boarded up.

Moving in closer, he could see soft lights through the frost-covered windows, and smoke billowing up from the chimney. The door was locked, of course, so he spent a few moments dealing with that before he slowly opened it a crack. There was no indication of movement inside, but there was fresh snow on the floor leading off down the main hallway.

Creeping inside, he moved quietly along the hall, keeping an ear out for any indication the place was occupied, yet heard nothing. The trail of snow ended at a blank wall at the end of the corridor, and Pacian smiled to himself at his own cunning. He felt around the wooden wall before him until he found a small latch that parted the fake wall and revealed a small tunnel through a stone passage, cut through the wall itself.

Pacian slipped through the door and along the tunnel, his breath misting before him. Along the length of the passage torches burned, their smoke wafting along the low ceiling towards the other end. When he finally emerged, he found himself in a small tool shed in the back yard of somebody's house. The door was opened slightly, so he slowly stepped outside.

Pacian was right next to the wall, and saw a narrow alleyway alongside the property he was standing on. He caught a glimpse of movement at the edge of his vision and bolted forward, rolling on the snowy ground as a crossbow bolt thudded into the door he had been standing in front of.

Pacian didn't even stop to look — he sprinted towards the alleyway and heard whoever had taken the shot at him cursing as he disappeared from his sight. He didn't stop running until he had taken a few twists and turns through the back alleyways, and then stopped to catch his breath.

The scenery here was far nicer than the slum he had just walked through, and one of the main streets at the end of the alley looked familiar, too. He was definitely close to the Fair Maiden Inn now, so he jogged through the back streets until he found himself peering at the inn from across the street.

If Cain was nearby, he was well-hidden. Dozens of people were still walking the streets, though as he watched, many of them were heading to the inn itself to seek respite from the cold northern winter. Further along the street, he spied the distinctive sight of Nellise and her two companions strolling along. Valennia was rapidly outpacing the other two and by his estimate, would be at the inn within two minutes. Pacian had that much time to find and disable whatever trap Cain had set for them.

The lantern light coming from nearby was preventing Pacian from seeing into the alleyways next to the inn, a likely ambush point. Taking a chance on being seen, he pulled his hood low over his face and sauntered out onto the road, appearing to be just another wandering citizen of Fairloch. If he was being watched, nobody seemed to react to his presence on the street.

He ducked into a side alley as soon as he was close enough, and pressed his back against the wall before looking around. This alley was empty, but there was another on the other side of the inn, one the ladies would pass before reaching the front door. Keeping his feet as silent as possible on the dry snow, Pacian crept down the alley and around the back of the inn, past the kitchen with its alluring aromas of hot food and drink, and into the alley on the other side.

As soon as he did, Pacian froze in place, for he was looking at half a dozen men crouched in the shadows, waiting for something. He knew what they were up to, but he was at a loss as to how to deal with so many. There was less than a minute until the ladies strolled past and were set upon by these thugs, and that's when Cain would make his appearance. He had no idea how powerful the inquisitor was, but his quiet confidence had indicated he was more than capable of dealing with Sayana's sorcery.

Suddenly, Valennia appeared at the end of the alleyway. She seemed unaware of the nearby men waiting to jump her, but had taken the time to put on her breastplate after dismounting from the carriage. The scythe that had been stolen from their room in Stonegaard had been recovered after the fight, and adorned the akoran warrior's back.

The thugs reacted to her presence by whispering amongst themselves, but whoever was in charge decided she was not the main target. Val had clearly grown impatient with the other two women and had moved ahead much faster, heading straight for the inn door when Pacian had a flash of inspiration.

Taking out one of his throwing knives, he coiled up his arm and threw the blade at Valennia, scoring a direct hit on her breastplate before ducking out of sight again. Her expression would have been comical if it wasn't so threatening. She stopped, looked down at the knife that had dropped into the snow, and then drew her scythe and immediately stormed down the alleyway towards the six rugged men.

"Who dares challenge me?" she thundered, taking the thugs completely by surprise. They backpedalled for a moment before their leader snarled the order to attack, and as one they charged towards the advancing warrior-maiden. Valennia held her ground, slamming down the visor on her helm and readying her deadly weapon for the first attack.

Pacian watched from the shadows as the group of men tried to overwhelm her with sheer force of numbers, only to find the razor-sharp edge of her scythe cutting through their ranks. No novices to battle, the men did what they could to avoid the blade while maintaining the offensive, and the sounds of clashing weapons rang out through the streets.

It was only a matter of time before the City Watch arrived on the scene, so Pacian had to track down Cain before that happened. Creeping back down the alley, Pacian turned around and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw the inquisitor coming straight at him. Only his finely-honed reflexes allowed him to dodge the descending blade which screeched off the stone wall just beside him.

Pacian tumbled to one side and drew his daggers, crouching cat-like on the snow as he faced off against the inquisitor. Cain held his sword at the ready, yet didn't seem inclined to charge straight in. Instead, his lips moved silently, and Pacian immediately knew the man was whispering a prayer. Before he could react, however, he felt his muscles freeze as if he were held by an immense force.

"I must compliment you on your tenacity, sir," Cain said as he relaxed his stance. "You are proving to be quite a thorn in my side of late. Your persistence forces me to take measures to end your interference in a more permanent fashion."

Pacian, his muscles burning, used every scrap of willpower he could manage to break the hold the inquisitor had on him, but was still unable to move. From around the corner, the sounds of Valennia making short work of Cain's associates could be heard, as well as screams of passing citizens, exposed to the akoran way of fighting for the first time. If Pacian could just call out for help, it might not be too late to save his life. The inquisitor was moving inexorably closer, his sword held easily in one hand.

"I shall make the cut clean and quick, for I am not a cruel man, despite what you may think," Cain assured him. "You may die assured that your beloved Nellise will receive the help she needs... whether she wants it or not." At the mention of the beautiful cleric's fate, Pacian gritted his teeth and found the strength to break free.

He rolled forward as the blade came down, narrowly missing his feet as he came around, almost pulling his shoulder out of its joint with the ferocity of the manoeuvre. His vythiric dagger plunged into the surprised inquisitor's side, slicing through the chainmail underneath and diving deep into the unprotected flesh beyond.

Cain staggered against the alley wall and kicked at Pacian, sprawling him out onto the cold ground. He sprang back to his feet almost instantly, ignoring the pain in his shoulder while Cain regained his footing as well. The two men circled each other warily, until Pacian noticed that the blood from the inquisitor's wound had already stopped flowing and seemed to be mending itself as he watched.

Fully aware of the healing powers priests of the Church possessed, Pacian waded in with sheer fury, knowing he had to stay on the offensive if he wanted to stand a chance against the man. Pacian came at the inquisitor from every possible angle, darting past his defences and scoring minor hits here and there, while Cain's blade swept at him in broad strokes that seemed impossibly fast. More than once Pacian felt the searing pain of a direct hit, but his dwarven-crafted vythiric chain armour protected him from what could have been mortal injuries.

Realising he couldn't outfight the man, Pacian knew that he somehow had to outthink him. Time was running out, and at any moment the City Watch — or worse still, Nellise — would come down the alley to find out what the noise was all about, and it would be all over.

Reversing the grip on his dagger, Pacian led with his other weapon in an obvious strike to the inquisitor's leg, and found it turned aside by his sword. Their eyes locked for a fraction of time and in that moment, Pacian could see that Cain knew he had just made a fatal mistake. The vythiric dagger plunged through his armour into his gut, sapping the energy from his body and dropping him to the ground in a growing pool of his own blood.

He couldn't stop there however, for it would only be a few minutes before Cain was healed once more. Pacian followed through with more deadly blows, pummelling the helpless inquisitor with unbridled rage. He held Tosh's vythiric dagger to Cain's throat as both men struggled for breath, but for very different reasons. He stared back at Pacian with eyes that showed no fear.

Pacian hadn't intended to prolong the moment, yet he found it difficult to perform the final act that would extinguish the inquisitor's life. Once more the image of his dwarven friend dying in his arms flashed through his mind, and his soul recoiled at the prospect of taking the life of a man who had technically done nothing wrong. He wasn't a murderer, or even a thug — he was doing what he believed was right.

Ultimately though, he had attacked Pacian and more than that, threatened to take Nellise away from him. He had gone through too much to lose her now, and if Cain was to live, that is exactly what would happen.

"You'll never stop trying... so it's the only way," he muttered to himself as his blade dove in to finish the job, all the while trying to ignore the look of terror that finally consumed the man's face in his final moments.

Chapter Sixteen

Despite their lack of sleep, Aiden didn't feel like resting. He was content to explore the ruins of the old tower while Ronan and Sir William recovered from their injuries. Maggie advised they'd need most of the day to allow their wounds to regenerate enough to travel, and Aiden didn't mind spending his time searching the place for the elusive sceptre.

The dragon's assault against the tower, decades ago, had damaged the structure from top to bottom. Anything above the second floor was virtually destroyed, and even if he could reach the higher floors, Aiden doubted they would be able to support his weight.

On the second floor he found an old library, with piles of ancient books strewn over the floor. He spent half the day looking through them for anything of interest, and wasn't disappointed. Tomes covered all manner of arcane topics, and as an avid student of the art, he dearly wanted to add these to his collection back home.

Among them he discovered a manifest of artifacts kept within the tower itself. Aiden was crestfallen to find no mention of the Sceptre of Oblivion in the crumbling pages, but he continued searching anyway in the faint hope it was mistaken.

Pushing aside heavy blocks of broken masonry, Aiden found more the remains of many people. One body in particular caught his attention — the remains of an elf, its long, elegant bone structure indicating its heritage. Well-crafted leathers which had stood the test of time encased the body, and the long-dead elf clutched the hilt of a weapon in one hand.

Heaving aside a large chunk of stone, Aiden saw a chipped and scarred singlesword in its skeletal claw. He was crestfallen at the sight, for he dared to hope that he'd located the sceptre at long last. Still, the blade seemed to be mostly intact and upon closer inspection realised it was something special. He recognised the distinctive shimmering of auldsteel, the same metal as Sir William's blessed sword.

"I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to relieve you of your weapon," Aiden whispered to the dead elf. He gingerly removed it from the dirt and brushed some of the detritus away, marvelling at its balance as he brought it into the light for a closer look. Tiny gemstones were encrusted into the hilt and on the crosspiece, and on an impulse Aiden shifted his vision and saw the faintest aura of power surrounding the weapon.

Auldsteel weapons were the stuff of legend, for the method of their creation had been lost long ago. Given the age of this sword, Aiden had little doubt that the original enchantment upon the blade had faded with time, but must have been something impressive back in its day. It had clearly been used in countless battles, for the metal was scarred and pitted. Aiden didn't know any way to sharpen auldsteel weapons, and the implications of the practically indestructible metal being this damaged were beyond his comprehension.

Still, even in this condition, the sword would be far more effective than his mundane blade, so he took the scabbard of his new weapon from its previous owner and strapped it to his back. The sun was low in the sky when he rejoined the others at the impromptu camp near the base of the tower, and Aiden was pleased to see both Sir William and Ronan on their feet once more.

Behind them, the imposing visage of Vindictus lay upon the ground, broken and unmoving. Curiously, Maggie sat next to the dead dragon, filling a hole in the ground with her hands. Aiden walked up behind her, grimacing slightly at the unpleasant sights and smells the dragon had to offer, and saw that she was burying the remains of her former master.

"It wasn't his fault," Aiden said, looking down at the mound of dirt where the old druid was buried. "However, he managed to get past the barrier, he couldn't have known what he was about to face."

"I know," Maggie whispered, "but that doesn't change the facts of the matter. His decision to come here led to the corruption of my order, and the demise of everyone I once knew. I am now the sole surviving member and the new Enlightened One, Keeper of the Faith, but there is nobody left to lead." Aiden didn't have any advice for her, so he just stood there in awkward silence, trying to think of something to say.

"I'm okay, Aiden," she said knowingly, before anything came to mind. He smiled to himself at her insight and tousled her hair in what he hoped was a comforting fashion.

They spent the afternoon lying out in the open, looking up at the sky through the shimmering barrier of light that encircled the area. A brief storm swept through, and it was a strange sight indeed to see sleet running off the barrier as if it were a vast dome of glass. Sir William spent his time in quiet prayer, the magnitude of his battle against the dragon and subsequent death — however brief — appearing to have reaffirmed his faith.

"So, I'm dying to know," Maggie eventually said to Aiden after she had finished her work, "did you find any sign of that sceptre?"

"Not even a hint," Aiden replied grimly. "I found some records that date back to the city's inception, but if the sceptre was ever here, it wasn't written down."

"If it's as valuable as we've been told, the owner of the tower might have kept it secret," Ronan offered, his voice still weak.

"Maybe, but if it's here, it's well hidden."

"I'll take a look," the retired thief said, carefully getting to his feet. "If it's here, I'll be able to find it. No offence, by the way."

"None taken," Aiden grinned as Ronan hobbled off into the tower. Aiden's smile vanished as he saw the tattered remains of the sailor's leathers clinging to his back at the precise point the dragon had struck him. It then occurred to him just how lucky they all were to still be alive.

With a little free time on his hands, Aiden took out the small cube and activated it, causing the mystical pages to appear hovering just above the flat surface. Vindictus had referred to it as a "lexicon", and the description seemed apt, as the small device had a wealth of information within. The dragon's crystal sphere had survived the battle with only minor scratches, and swirling within its misty depths were letters of the same language used by the lexicon. He now had a complete set of the strange language, and was certain that with time, he would be able to figure it all out.

"What does that thing do?" Maggie asked shortly after Aiden began examining the pages.

"It is a repository of knowledge, crafted by a race so ancient and powerful that even dragons are mystified by their artifice," Aiden explained. "With enough study, I should be able to figure it out and discover what they had to say."

"Well, don't get too comfortable," she advised, "I'm getting hungry and we've nothing more to eat."

"I left some supplies in Bastion's saddlebags," Sir William offered. "It will be enough to get us back to Amalis."

"Okay, as soon as Ronan gets back, we'll head out," Aiden replied. Unfortunately, the sailor returned within minutes of this statement, carrying the exquisitely made leathers the decaying elf had been wearing.

"No sign of your sceptre," he admitted, "but I found something I can use, anyway."

After he'd taken the time to don the leathers — and finding it a little tight in places — the weary companions gathered up their gear and linked hands, while Aiden took out the small enchanted stone and slotted the amethyst into it.

The field around the broken tower faded into the violet mists of the Aether, leaving them standing amongst the indistinct shadows of the material plane. This time however, there was somebody else nearby, the familiar shape of the robed man he had seen earlier. Up close, he could clearly see it was clearly the arch mage he had from the vision Vindictus had shown him.

The old man was smiling as he looked directly at Aiden from under his hood, moving closer through the shifting mists to stand before the small group. He made no sound as he moved and did not attempt to speak. Aiden had no idea if he could communicate here in this strange place, for his knowledge was limited to the few times he had travelled here, but there was an easy way to find out.

"Are you Cuthbeort?" Aiden said, his voice sounding muffled and warped in the alien environment. The robed man nodded slowly, either unable or unwilling to speak. The wizard turned to look at Sir William and Maggie and bowed slightly, which the old knight, slightly bewildered by the entire experience, returned. Aiden was lost for words himself, for a moment, but Ronan kept his wits about him.

"He saw you slay the dragon," he said mildly, drawing a smile and nod from the aged wizard. Aiden was then struck with a revelation.

"You've been waiting here all this time, keeping the dragon locked away until someone could come along and destroy it," he blurted, drawing a solemn nod from the old man. He then held out a hand, palm upturned, as if expecting something. Aiden frowned in thought for a moment, and then held out the small enchanted stone, receiving a small nod from the robed old man in response.

"Thank you for your sacrifice," Maggie breathed, drawing a wan smile from Cuthbeort as he eagerly reached for the stone.

"Wait," Aiden interrupted, "did you ever have the Sceptre of Oblivion in your tower?" The old wizard's brow creased in thought at this question, but after a long pause, Cuthbeort shook his head, putting to rest the question of the sceptre's presence once and for all.

The old wizard took the stone from Aiden's hand, and with a look of relief upon his etched features, removed the amethyst. All five of them were instantly deposited back on the field in front of the tower, but once all signs of the mist had vanished, the robed figure of the Archmage Cuthbeort collapsed to the ground.

Maggie rushed to his side and gasped when she looked under his hood. When Aiden peered inside, he too was shocked to see a weathered skull gazing back at him with empty eye sockets.

"Time works differently on the Aether," Aiden explained in a quiet voice. "What you gain there does not translate back to this world, apparently. He must have known that."

"After waiting so long, he was probably ready for it to finally end," Sir William remarked.

"I think we should take the time to bury him here," Maggie said. "It seems... right." As she spoke, the background hum of the barrier surrounding the tower became distorted and the shimmering field collapsed like a soap bubble, freeing them and allowing the weather to fall upon the parched earth for the first time in nearly eight decades. Despite the cold, it was a welcome feeling on Aiden's face, a cleansing experience that seemed to bring fresh possibilities.

They spent half an hour burying the old wizard next to the druid, somehow fittingly at the base of the dragon's unmoving corpse. He had few possessions on him, but Aiden collected them up because they had the distinctive glow of power about them.

Inside the wizard's robe was a small oaken stick, about fifteen inches long that tapered to a point. Tiny runes were inscribed upon its length, and Aiden recognised it as a wand that could be used to unleash elemental energies. He carefully pocketed the weapon and without further ceremony, left the tower grounds that were rapidly turning into a muddy quagmire.

Just outside the grounds they encountered Bastion, the old warhorse chewing on a small patch of grass he'd found growing out of the cracked pavement. His ears pricked up at the arrival of Sir William, and the reunion of the two was a touching sight, even if Aiden was more interested in the food within the horses' saddlebags.

Thorn found them an hour later, the big cat looking well fed after his time apart. They set up camp under the shelter of one of the broken buildings within the city and spent a quiet night pondering the events they had somehow survived.

* * *

Although their supplies were low, they took their time travelling north towards Amalis once more, allowing their weary bones to recover somewhat after their trials. Maggie even managed to find their two lost mounts, grazing together not far from where they had bolted, with their saddlebags still full of bread and sausage.

They reached the gates of the city at noon on the second day, where work was underway to restore them to their former glory. After Maggie had dismissed the great tiger, they walked along uneven streets with the scale of the destruction impressive to say the least.

The city had been hit hard by the massive storm unleashed by the druids, but the guards reported few casualties from the attack. Citizens and city watchmen alike were clearing the rubble-strewn streets, sweeping aside the dirt and shoring up damaged buildings.

"I suppose we'd better let the duke know we've been successful in at least one aspect of our mission," Aiden mused as they stood in the market square, watching the clean up.

"Considering the urgency of your quest, you'd better head back to Fairloch and let them know you didn't find the sceptre," Maggie advised, rolling up her sleeves.

"You're talking like you're not coming with us," Ronan remarked, eyeing her shrewdly.

"I'm not," she replied simply. "My order was responsible for this destruction, and I can't just leave the people of Amalis to clean it up. I'll have to coordinate with the duke, and I want to allay any ill-will towards druids that may have resulted from... all of this. Besides, we finished what I went to Fairloch for in the first place. Your task is complete, gentlemen, even if it was a lot tougher than I originally thought. Thank you, for everything."

"It was an honour to simultaneously aid you and serve the Kingdom," Sir William said, stepping down from Bastion's back. "But more than that, I count you as a friend, which I never thought I would say about a pagan priestess." Maggie laughed at this statement and looked fondly up at the old knight.

"I'm going to miss you, Will," she said with a smile. He knelt on one knee and spread his arms wide, and the two of them embraced warmly.

"I have towering respect for you and your devotion, and the world is a better place for having you in it," the knight continued. "You have given me much to think about."

"Our faiths are not so different," she assured him. "We're all connected — it's as simple as that. Now, get down here you scoundrel," she said to Ronan after the knight had regained his footing. Ronan grinned unashamedly as he gave her a hug, which ended abruptly as she slapped away one of his wayward hands.

"Just testing you," the sailor shrugged as she scowled at him. Aiden was a little confused until he realised that he had been going for her coin pouch, not her rump.

"There was a time when I'd put you away for trying to pilfer from a representative of the law," she reminded him with a grin, but Ronan wasn't fazed.

"So, thanks for putting me back together after the dragon used me like a cat toy back at the tower," he mumbled, clearly having difficulty with feelings of gratitude towards another.

"Saving your life was a team effort, but your thanks are appreciated," Maggie replied. She finally turned her sparkling green eyes to Aiden, who was feeling rather self-conscious.

"Perhaps if we'd gotten here sooner, we could have avoided a lot of this and saved some of your brethren," he said.

"Aiden, there was a dragon manipulating my order — there was nothing we would have been able to do, save what we did," she replied soberly. "Don't worry about any of the delays, or the problems we had. We got through it all in the end, and I couldn't have done it without you. Just... try to keep your curiosity under control in future. Oh, and I won't tell Alain you took those scrolls, since they saved our lives in the end."

"I took them?" Aiden replied, aghast. He had speculated about how they came to be in his scroll case later on, but he had no recollection of stealing them.

"You don't remember?" Ronan asked. "Pity, I thought it was slick work, too. As soon as his back was turned, away you went."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Professional courtesy," the sailor replied blandly. "Besides, if Alain really wanted them, would he have left them out on the table like he did?"

"Don't encourage him," Sir William warned gruffly. "He has the makings of a fine, upstanding gentleman and shouldn't be practicing such behaviour. Had I known of the theft, I would have reported it immediately."

"Good thing you're half-blind, then," Ronan muttered.

"Alright, that's enough bickering," Maggie interrupted. "I'm going to report to the duke and let him know of our victory."

"Will he even believe you?" Ronan asked.

"He will when I show him this," she replied, pulling out a large claw from her pack, taken from the remains of Vindictus. "I couldn't fit the head in, so this will have to do. But there's one last thing to take care of." Aiden stared at her blankly while she gave him a curious look, until he suddenly figured out what she was talking about.

"Women like hugs," she said as he knelt down and embraced her. "Except for Val... I don't think you should try this with her."

"Words of wisdom," Ronan smirked.

"Well, good luck to you, gentlemen," the raelani druid said awkwardly. "I do hate to leave you like this, but it's something I have to do. I'll send word to you once I've sorted all this out, and we might even meet again in the near future."

"God-willing, we shall," Sir William said firmly as Maggie smiled back at him.

"We certainly showed that dragon what-for, didn't we?" she said wistfully as she turned to walk away. It was a bitter-sweet moment for all of them, and despite her obvious reluctance to leave, Aiden respected her decision.

"Oh, one last thing, Aiden," she said over her shoulder. "Criosa is in love with you, so be nice to her. Goodbye!"

Aiden was taken aback by this last comment, and both of his companions burst out laughing when he turned to look at them for advice.

"Okay, settle down," Aiden grumbled, feeling his face flush. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to keep heading north while we have good weather. If we ride hard, we can make Kingswood by nightfall."

"That's a good idea," Ronan agreed as his laughter subsided. "And I can educate you a little about women along the way."

Aiden's prediction held true, with the three men arriving at a place called the King's Rest, a modestly sized inn a few minutes off the main highway just as the sun was setting. Kingswood was a small logging community they'd passed on the way south nearly a week earlier, but had been making such good time they hadn't needed to stop here. The smell of wood-smoke and hot food wafted on the cold breeze.

It was the first hot meal they'd had in days, and all three of them ate their fill of roast chicken and potatoes, gravy and hot buttered bread. Aiden could hardly move after the meal, his limbs sore from the ride and his stomach swollen from one too many helpings. Sir William dozed off in his chair in front of the fireplace, while Ronan amused himself by talking to one of the lovely waitresses who had served them that evening.

Aiden excused himself shortly afterward, heading up to his room for an early night. He had no intention of sleeping just yet, however, for this would be the first opportunity for him to examine his new findings in detail. Unfortunately, he had neglected his hygiene for one too many days, and decided a hot bath would be a good idea at this point, giving him the brilliant idea of combining the activities.

So it was that he sat in a steaming bath of hot water inside the large room he had taken for himself, reading through the information presented to him by the Lexicon's shimmering pages. It was a relaxing way to study, and one that he would have to avail himself of whenever he had the opportunity. He also pondered what had caused him to steal the scrolls from Alain's work bench, but for the life of him he couldn't recall it happening.

After an hour of that, he dried himself off and piled under the covers of his bed, still enraptured by the small pictures and complicated language before him. The text was becoming a little clearer as he went on — he could now understand certain glyphs with the objects depicted next to them, such as "hand" and "wheel".

Aiden wrapped his hands in a towel before retrieving the crystal sphere from his pack. He nestled it in the blankets before him and with a deep breath, carefully took hold of the device. Aiden shivered slightly at the touch of the cold surface on his fingers, but nothing else happened.

He peered deep into the misty surface, yet couldn't see anything. Either it had been damaged in the fight, or it required some sort of incantation to make it work. Either way, it was a fruitless endeavour, so he carefully wrapped the sphere in a cloth and placed it back inside his pack.

As an afterthought, he took off the shard that hung around his neck — he didn't want any dragons messing with his mind this evening. On an impulse, he took out the ancient gauntlet and started flicking through the pages of the Lexicon, looking for the same glyphs as those engraved upon the metal surface.

Aiden eventually located each symbol and scribbled them down on a piece of paper. He recognised one of the symbols as "fist", and it seemed to be related to this object in particular. Turning the ephemeral pages to that section, he felt a thrill of excitement shoot through his body as he found a picture of the gauntlet itself, depicted alongside a suit of armour it had been part of.

He lost track of time as he struggled to comprehend the language, eventually learning enough to figure out why Alain had not been able to make the gauntlet work — it was locked, most likely as a safety mechanism. By pressing a combination of sigils, Aiden figured out how to remove this impediment and with trembling hands, put it on and stroked the sigil that he interpreted to mean "strength".

He practically jumped out of his bed as a dull red glow came from cracks along its length, and a deep, faint hum could be heard. Moving his arm around, Aiden was uncertain about what was supposed to happen. With an eye to experimentation, he reached over to the small table beside his bed and picked up a large wooden cup. It had almost no weight to it, and when he gripped it tighter, the cup shattered instantly with practically no effort.

Astonished by this development, Aiden noticed the gauntlet was starting to get quite warm, and an odour of acrid smoke hung in the air around him, so he quickly pressed the sigil again and the gauntlet went dark. He took it off and placed it near the window to air out, coughing at the awful, thick smell and wondering if it was supposed to do that. In any case, he had a powerful new tool at his disposal.

Satisfied with his research for the night, Aiden was about to put the Lexicon away when he bumped it with his knee, sending the pages whirling around until it settled down once more. Looking closely at the images, his attention was caught by the drawing of a person upon the ghostly pages. There were dark sigils around the form, with lines pointing at various places on the depicted body.

He had yet to interpret these particular sigils, although the drawing of the body itself was somehow familiar. Upon its skin, in stark relief, were strange carvings, etchings of symbols that connected across the surface of the skin. His attention focused on the writing to the side, Aiden delved further into the strange texts until he was able to figure it out.

From what little he understood, this section of the Lexicon dealt with channelling energies, and the implications were not lost on him. Aiden gasped as he realised that what he was looking at was most likely the instruction manual to instilling tremendous power in to a human body through the use of engravings, channels as it were, in the skin that looked just like... tattoos.

Aiden spent most of the night pondering this discovery, understanding that he had something very important to talk to Sayana about the next time they met.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon the next day when the three riders slowed to a halt near the entrance to Sir William's fiefdom, not far to the south of Fairloch. They'd had good weather for the journey and made excellent time.

"Are you sure I can't invite you in for a brief respite?" Sir William asked as he dismounted Bastion. The old warhorse was lathered in sweat from their brisk ride, and seemed to be the worse for wear.

"I'd like to get this information to the duke as soon as possible," Aiden replied. "But thanks for the offer."

"I'll catch up to you at the castle tomorrow morning," the knight continued, stroking the side of his beloved horse. "I must see to the repair of my armour and say goodbye to Bastion. The poor chap is just too old for this sort of thing, and I promised Margaret I'd put him out to pasture. He's certainly earned it."

"Do you need to take one of our horses for tomorrow morning?" Aiden asked.

"No, I have a draft horse I can use, though he's a grumpy steed and won't take kindly to a long ride."

"Don't let him push you around," Ronan advised laconically, "or pretty soon he'll be calling the shots." Sir William laughed at this, and Aiden couldn't help but join in.

"Get out of here, you vagabond," the old knight growled with a grin behind his moustache, turning to lead his tired horse along the path to his property nearby. With their small company slowly diminishing, Aiden led them along the highway until the familiar and all too welcome sight of Fairloch's high walls came into view. There were dozens of wagons and travellers queued up at the entrance, and the two men had no choice but to wait their turn.

Nearly half an hour later, with the sun sinking in the west, Aiden and Ronan finally made it into the city and trotted along the snow-covered streets until they arrived at the Tradeway Tavern. Not long after they had stabled their mounts, Ronan caught sight of something interesting nearby and disappeared into the crowd.

Puzzled by this curious behaviour, Aiden slowly made his way along the bustling street in the direction the sailor had gone and found him talking to a familiar dark-haired woman in a plain dress. Ronan spotted Aiden lurking around nearby and waved him over.

"You remember Aiden Wainwright?" Ronan said to her as way of introduction.

"Of course, good to see you're still in one piece, mate. I'm Kara, by the way, I work for Mister Kinsey."

"Yes, I recall," Aiden replied dryly, remembering the king's spymaster all too well. "What's going on?"

"I had Kara look around for Perry and the rest of the thieves' guild while I was gone," Ronan explained hastily. "The short story is, they've been found."

"The bastard keeps moving his base around, so I don't know how long this information is good for," Kara added.

"Fine, we'll go now," Ronan said. "Lead us to him, and I'll see to it you're rewarded."

"I already get paid for this sort of thing, but by all means, throw some more money at me," Kara replied, gesturing for them to follow her down the alleyway alongside the inn.

"Wait a moment, I've got to report to the duke," Aiden protested, prompting both of them to stop in their tracks.

"This won't take long, I promise," Ronan assured him. "Come on, we don't have much time."

"Do you really need me?"

"Never hurts to have some backup," Ronan replied.

"What exactly are you planning to do?" Aiden asked suspiciously.

"We don't have time to chat about this," Kara reminded them.

"Alright, but you're paying to have my boots cleaned," Aiden muttered. Ronan's smile took in his ears, and without further delay the three of them headed down the alleyways of Fairloch's poor quarter. The sights and smells could only be described as "pungent", a stark reminder that not all of the city's citizens lived a charmed life.

They passed by a young woman and a man scurrying for cover when the three arrived on the scene. They had recently been in a fight, and didn't appear to be the winners.

The temperature plummeted as the light faded from the clear sky, but Kara assured them it wasn't much further and to Aiden's surprised relief, wouldn't involve taking the scenic route through the winding tunnels of the city's sewer.

Less than ten minutes after they'd set out, the three of them were crouched in an alleyway overlooking a grand old house that looked as though it'd seen better days. The ancient brickwork on the house was slanted in many places, giving it a despondent look. What few people were still on the street seemed to be the sort who did most of their business there, and Aiden was keenly aware that it was a dangerous place to be.

"This is the place?" Ronan whispered. "Perry's not exactly trying to be subtle about his presence here."

"Every second night, they change address," Kara replied in equally hushed tones. "I may be young, but even I've never heard of the guild moving around so much. Something's got your man Perry spooked real good."

"I think I can take a guess as to what that is," Ronan answered grimly. "Okay, let's get inside." Kara nodded and led them across the street, walking casually as if she lived in the area. Ronan was able to fake his own relaxed walk, and Aiden did his best to imitate them. Although the house seemed deserted, a faint glimmer of movement could be seen inside the dilapidated windows, giving Aiden the distinct impression they were being watched.

Kara led them past the large house, and after passing by two more run-down establishments, turned down another alleyway. They crept along slowly, following her lead until she suddenly ducked into an alcove. There was a brief scuffle, and the unconscious body of a hefty ruffian fell to the ground.

"Yep, this is the place," Ronan quipped as he dragged the unconscious body back behind a pile of discarded clothing and snow.

"I'll get the door," Kara said as she crept toward what appeared to be the back entrance to the estate, and began working away at the lock. Within moments, the door was open and they looked in to a dark hallway.

"You've got some skill," Ronan remarked as he peered inside. "I'm guessing you used to have an entirely different profession before becoming a spy."

"I'll tell you about my fascinating and chequered past over the beers you'll be buying me later," Kara replied. Ronan stepped inside without a sound with the others following closely behind.

The place was deathly quiet, with only the cold, gentle breeze blowing through the open door. Aiden was tempted to summon his magical light, but that would surely give them away. As his companions searched the room they were in, Aiden magically adjusted his sight, hoping to be able to see better, until the room suddenly shifted into stark clarity.

He was looking at an old kitchen in shades of grey, much like the goggles he had once possessed, leading him to the rather satisfying conclusion that he had duplicated whatever magic they had used to make things visible in the dark.

Ronan made his way down a connecting hallway until he encountered a pair of huge doors. Despite the decrepit nature of the rest of the house, they appeared to be in good condition. Kara and Aiden caught up to the sailor as he was attempting to pick the lock, the muffled curses coming from his mouth indicating he wasn't having a good time of it.

"Let me try," Kara offered, but Ronan's professional pride wouldn't have any of that. He brushed aside the spy's hand and persevered for a few moments longer. Kara put an ear against the door, listening intently while Aiden kept watch behind them, the entire process taking far too long.

"I don't know who their locksmith is, but I want to punch him in the face," Ronan whispered harshly.

"Shh, I think hear them moving around in there," Kara informed them. "A door just closed... I think they know we're here." Aiden had heard enough.

"Step aside," he ordered, "this might be a little loud." Unsure of what he was referring to, his two companions warily moved back as Aiden reached down to the gauntlet on his right hand and stroked the glyphs that would activate it. The dull hum and faint red glow of the ancient device were the only things heard or seen in the hallway, but that was about to change.

Allowing his sight to shift back to normal, Aiden drew back his arm and clenched his fist, and then punched the door. The massive oaken structure shuddered from the impact, which could probably have been heard two blocks away. Splinters showered down around them, but the doors held. Again, Aiden pummelled the door, until on the third hit it shattered into thousands of pieces with a deafening boom.

Light streamed into the hallway from the sundered doors, revealing a large, lavishly appointed room with a dozen or more terrified people cowering along the far wall. Two huge men lay unconscious at Aiden's feet, having apparently been trying to buttress the door against his assault.

The gauntlet was becoming quite hot and an acrid smell filled the air, so he quickly dispelled the magic that powered it and stepped into the room. Ronan and Kara stared at him before the sailor dusted himself off and stepped through the remains of the door and into the room. Kara seemed content to watch from safety as Ronan strode forward.

"Knock, knock," he said confidently as he moved across the open space, towards the cluster of people slowly regaining their wits. Aiden followed him in cautiously, looking around to see if anyone was going to challenge their arrival, but they all seemed to be cowed by his door-opening technique.

The small, almost child-like head of Perry emerged from behind a lavish chair ahead of them, and with his appearance the surrounding people — some of whom were obviously bodyguards — regained their confidence. It was hard to gauge the mood of the crowd, though if Aiden had to guess, he'd say they were holding their breath in anticipation of the coming showdown.

Contrary to the last time he'd stood amongst the thieves' guild, there was no sign of the homeless wretches who had surrounded the guild master. Aiden had a feeling he was seeing the true guild right now and everything he'd previously seen was for show.

"Well, well, look who isn't dead yet," Perry remarked, a large smile creeping over his face. "I must say, you made quite an entrance. Scared the living daylights out of me, you did, good and proper. Got yourself a powerful ally there, Nighthawk, but don't think we can't take him if we have to."

"I like your new digs," Ronan observed, looking around at the faded glory of the old house. "Suits your lack of style much better than a sewer. But you've slipped up, haven't you? You consorted with assassins and now they want you dead, which is funny, because so does the Crown. You should choose your friends more wisely."

"Just doing what I had to do to survive," Perry growled, climbing up into his oversized chair. "I couldn't refuse their offer, or I'd be dead right now. I've done it before, and I'll do it again. As for those toffs in their mansions and castles, well, they've been after me for years anyway. Nothing's changed."

"This time, you crossed a line," Ronan warned, pointing a finger straight at the raelani thief. "If they'd succeeded, you'd have been complicit in regicide. They're not going to let you walk away from this one."

"They'll never find me," Perry smirked.

"I think I just did," Ronan remarked evenly, drawing an odd look from the guild master.

"What, you think you're going to take me down?" he scoffed incredulously. "After everything I've done for you? Hell, we walked the streets together for a couple of years, you and I. Old mates, we are, and you're gonna turn me over to the coppers?" Aiden noticed a few of the larger men in the room slowly moving into more defensible positions.

"Things are looking pretty grim for you, Perry," he remarked dangerously. "Think carefully before you come to any important life decisions — I don't want to make a mess."

"Your parlour trick was very impressive, Wainwright," Perry replied sourly, "but I've got the whole guild backing me up, so unless you've got the stomach to kill every last person here, you're going to do what I say." Aiden looked around him, taking note of just how many people there were — nearly two dozen. With the gauntlet providing him with unnatural strength, it would be a massacre.

"He's right, Ronan. I'm not going to slaughter all of these people," he declared, hoping it wouldn't make the sailor's position too uncomfortable. Surprisingly, one of the men near Perry stepped forward, a rough-looking character who seemed familiar to Aiden.

"You won't have to," he said in a gravelly voice. "I agree with Nighthawk on this one, Perry, and so does just about everyone else here. Business is business, but we love Criosa and you tried to help them kill her." Perry turned to look at his lieutenant in astonished surprise.

"You're turning on me, Vaughn?" he asked.

"'Fraid so," Vaughn answered unequivocally. "We can't keep on the run like this forever and now we've been found, it's time for a change of leadership." Vaughn drew a short sword from his belt and held it with casual menace. Aiden stood there watching the intrigue unfold, fascinated at the politics of thieves. Perry glanced around at others nearby, seeing the same hard, unforgiving expressions as Vaughn.

"Looks like a mutiny, Perry," Ronan remarked. "You'd better abandon ship, mate." The guild master's face went through half a dozen emotional states, before settling on resignation.

"Fine... I'll step down," he relented, unable to face the ire of his guild.

"Get out of here, and hopefully, we'll never meet again," Vaughn declared. "You know the rules."

"Wait, you're letting him go?" Aiden asked.

"Thieves code," Ronan explained. "They won't kill him, so long as he doesn't do any thieving in the city or make trouble for the guild... right Perry?"

"Against the guild? No... I give you my word," Perry replied as his world came crashing down around him.

"Honour amongst thieves," Aiden remarked quietly. "How about that."

"Funny thing is, you're not members of the guild, are you now?" Perry observed, giving Aiden and Ronan an unreadable look before he casually walked out the door.

"He was a damned fool to try messing with the Crown," Vaughn remarked after the raelani had gone. "Still, he did alright for us over the years. Shame to see him go."

"So, what happens now?" Aiden asked.

"Now we lay low for a while," the thief replied. "I'll get word out that Perry has left, and if any of those assassins are still around, they'll take up their business with him and leave us be. But it occurs to me we need a new guild master. What do you say, Ronan?"

The sailor was sporting a smug expression after deposing his old nemesis, but that quickly vanished from his face when Vaughn asked that question.

"I don't think so," Ronan replied hesitantly.

"Come on, you used to tell me all the time about how you'd run the show if you were guild master," Vaughn pressed, but Ronan was squirming uncomfortably under the scrutiny of everyone present.

"Yeah I did say those things, didn't I," Ronan muttered. "I ain't like that no more, Vaughn, I've... changed. Sorry mate, I'm not interested. I think maybe you'd do a better job at it, anyway. I never had a head for fine details. Does anyone have an objection?" The crowd of thieves glanced around at themselves, but nobody said a word against him. "There you have it," Ronan continued, "congratulations on your promotion."

"You sure about this?" Vaughn asked, then shook his head as if to clear it. "What the hell am I saying — I'll take it." Ronan broke out into a wide grin and clapped Vaughn on the shoulder, to the general approval of those around them.

Aiden let out a slow breath as the tension in the room vanished. He watched as everyone present shook hands with their new boss. After a few minutes, Aiden felt himself being pulled through the crowd by Ronan as he made his exit. Kara joined them as they left the building and head back out into the night, but Aiden had one question for the retired thief.

"So why didn't you take it?" he asked, drawing a dour glance from Ronan.

"It's a rough life, even worse than the navy," he replied laconically. "Besides, they spend most of their time moving through the sewers. I've lived in shit long enough."

Chapter Seventeen

Fairloch Castle was a welcome sight for Aiden, who was glad to finally have his eventful week behind him. Ronan walked alongside Aiden, the sailor quiet and withdrawn after the previous night's celebration. Kara had requested payment for her services in the form of beer, and the two of them had drunk each other under the table while Aiden watched, content to sip his single glass throughout the night.

The cold day was clear and bright, forcing the retired thief to keep his eyes under the brim of his hood. This resulted in the occasional collision with oncoming traffic, and more than once Aiden had to pull him out of the way of a carriage.

After crossing the drawbridge, they entered the warm, inviting foyer of the castle and were invited by a minor functionary to sit down while awaiting Castellan Hodges, who was in a meeting with the duke. Ronan slumped into one of the plush chairs and seemed to doze off, leaving Aiden to mull over recent events by himself for a few minutes until more people arrived.

His mood was lifted immediately when he spotted Nellise entering the room, looking radiant in her white robe. A smile of recognition erupted on her face as she spied Aiden, and the two of them embraced silently for a long moment.

"I'm so happy to see you again," she said to him as they separated.

"The feeling is mutual," he replied with a fond smile. "When did you arrive? And was your mission successful?"

"We've been here just one night," Nellise answered, "and I'm sorry to say the dwarves have no record of the sceptre, but you wouldn't believe what we had to go through to find that out. I take it from your question that you were unable to locate it at Feybourne?"

"Not even a hint of its existence," Aiden muttered, "and we even got confirmation from the original owner of Feybourne's tower, too."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she sighed. "We have both failed to deliver that which was needed, and I dread informing the duke. Still, I see Ronan is alive — after a fashion — but where are the others?"

"Sir William will be joining us here shortly, and Maggie stayed behind in Amalis to help the city recover from the attack."

"An attack on the city? It seems we have much to catch up on," Nellise said with a raised eyebrow as she gestured to the comfortable chairs. As they sat down, Sayana and Valennia entered the hallway, and Aiden gave them both a warm greeting.

Sayana's hair was much shorter than it had been in times past, and her small, pointed ears stuck out for the entire world to see. Clearly, she had changed in only the past few weeks, all for the better. Aiden noted to himself that he no longer felt pain at the loss of their brief relationship, only relief and a measure of joy at seeing a good friend once more.

Nellise told Aiden of the obstacles she and the others had encountered at Stonegaard, and he was astonished to hear of their encounter with the dragon that had attacked Culdeny. When it came to light that Pacian had saved the survivors of that battle, Aiden bliked and stared at her in disbelief.

"Wait, he went with you?" Aiden asked incredulously.

"Yes, he journeyed to Stonegaard with us and I have to say, in spite of our reservations, his conduct was mostly excellent," Nellise explained. "In fact, I wouldn't be sitting here now if not for his courage."
"Is he here?"

"He disappeared just after we arrived," Sayana explained dryly. "We had to carry all of his gear with us as well. Except for Val, mind you."

"If he wanted his equipment, he should have taken it with him," the tall akoran woman explained. "I carry no man's luggage."

"So, was he a problem at all on your journey?" Aiden asked hesitantly. "Clearly he managed to do some good for a change."

"His actions were exemplary," Nellise said, "but he lost someone he'd grown fond of along the way. He's taking it quite hard actually, and it wouldn't surprise me to learn Pacian has been at a tavern all night, drinking his troubles away."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Ronan mumbled from beneath his hood.

"Yes, and you are such an obvious example of the benefits right now," Sayana shot back sarcastically.

"Hey, I'm a pillar of health and vitality," the sailor muttered. "Just keep your voice down for a while." They were interrupted by the arrival of Sir William, whom Nellise immediately went to. The two embraced like old friends, and sat apart from the rest to speak of private matters.

Aiden and Sayana continued their own talk about events in Stonegaard and Feybourne, the two of them trying to top one another's tale with their own exploits. Ultimately, Aiden was astonished to hear of Sayana's battle against clan MacAliese, and he knew then that her powers were continuing to grow.

"What is it?" she asked curiously, at which point Aiden realised he was staring at her.

"I've found out some interesting information about your heritage," he explained delicately. "I'll tell you about it later. This is hardly the time or the place."

"As you wish," she replied carefully, unsure what he was referring to. Aiden knew when he told her about the information in the Lexicon, he would have her undivided attention.

Presently, the doors to the royal court opened and a dozen well-dressed men — most likely nobles or affluent merchants — strode out, talking quietly amongst themselves. Castellan Hodges appeared behind the entourage, resplendent in his robes of state.

"You've all made it back," he remarked in astonishment, glancing around at them with a growing smile on his face. "I am pleased to see you all again, and I do apologise for the delay. I'm sure you have a lot to discuss and I am eager to hear of your exploits, but we should wait until we're in the presence of His Grace before going to the trouble to explain everything. Please, come this way."

As they all stood and prepared to enter the court, the main doors opened and Pacian stumbled inside, appearing to be just as hungover as Ronan.

"I'm here, everything's under control," he blurted as everyone stared at his impromptu entry. "I got a little side-tracked, that's all."

"Why don't you all head in; we'll join you in a moment," Aiden prompted the others, as the castellan raised a disapproving eyebrow at Pacian's appearance. Aiden gestured for him to step to one side, away from prying ears. Despite his earlier concern, Aiden wasn't at all intimidated at the dishevelled sight of his old friend.

"You look like hell, mate," Aiden began sternly, noticing his unshaven cheeks and baggy eyes.

"I had a few drinks last night, that's all," Pacian replied with a shrug. "You got something more important to say?"

"Look, I know things have been rough between us recently, but I'm actually glad to see you're in one piece," Aiden replied diplomatically. "Nel told me what you did at Stonegaard and I'm bloody impressed. I'd be even more impressed if we hadn't encountered a dragon of our own, mind you."

"You too?" Pacian asked, looking up sharply. "The damn things are all over the place these days."

"We can catch up on who was the better dragon-fighter later — I just wanted you to know that... damn this is hard. Look, I... missed you, and I regret saying the things I said. I was tired and hurt after that fight in the senate—"

"Save the speech," Pacian interrupted him, taking a moment to compose himself. "I hear what you're saying, but I've wanted to tell you something for a while now too. It's possible... that I may have been wrong to kill the senator."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Aiden replied warily, surprised at this admission of failure.

"Frankly, I could have used your help down in Stonegaard," Pacian continued, becoming more emotional as he spoke. "I really messed up, Aiden, I messed up so badly I can't even talk about it."

"What happened?" Aiden asked, suddenly concerned for his friend. From what Nellise had told him, Pacian was some sort of hero, but something else had clearly happened to him.

"Are you deaf? I just can't talk about it," Pacian practically sobbed. "I was so tired, and I thought I knew what was going on... I got played, Aiden. I can't figure out stuff like you can, and others paid the price for my arrogance. I might be a bit too quick to resort to the knife to solve problems, and it's come back to haunt me now."

"Hey, take it easy," Aiden said in an effort to comfort him. The smell of strong drink was heavy on Pacian's breath. "Sometimes it's hard to think on the spot, Pace. I'm sure you did what you had to do, and the fact you and the others are still alive now says to me that you did alright."

"You don't understand, Aiden," Pacian whispered in a broken voice. "I had to do things, terrible things to keep it all together, things I can never take back."

"I really wish you'd tell me what happened," Aiden muttered, glancing at the impatient castellan who stood at the doors nearby. "After this is over, we're going to have a proper chat. You should come into the meeting, but just stay in the background and let us do the talking."

"That's fine by me," Pacian nodded, wiping moisture from his eyes as he pulled himself together. "Don't worry about ol' Pacian, he's always fine."

"Okay, speaking about yourself in the third person has me really worried," Aiden remarked dourly.

"I'll manage," Pacian whispered, leaving Aiden to ponder what on earth could have happened. They strode through the doorway leading into the royal court, with the castellan closing the great doors behind them. The rest of their companions were gathered around in the middle of the large room, speaking with Duke Charles Montague.

The elderly duke seemed to have aged even more since their last meeting only weeks ago, with his thinning hair pure white and his skin appearing waxy, yet he still carried himself with dignity and esteem as he noticed Aiden's approach.

"Welcome back, my boy," he said with a wan smile as he moved through the crowd to shake his hand. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I have been kept very busy of late. I... is that Mister Savidge I see there with you?"

"Yes," Nellise chimed in, having anticipated a little friction at Pacian's arrival. "He ended up providing invaluable assistance to us in Stonegaard, and although this doesn't excuse his past behaviour, I'd like him to be present for this meeting."

"As you wish, Miss Sannemann," the duke agreed hesitantly. "Aiden, Sir William just informed me that your quest was unsuccessful."

"I'm sorry we couldn't bring better news, Your Grace, Aiden apologised. "But you will be pleased to hear that Amalis is safe, and the Feybourne region has been secured."

"Splendid work, old chap," the duke replied, genuinely pleased at this news.

"Actually, you have Sir William to thank for that," Aiden hinted, causing the old knight to become the centre of attention.

"A story for another time, perhaps," he said modestly, smoothing his moustache. "I believe we have more pressing business to discuss."

"Yes, we too were unable to recover the Sceptre of Oblivion," Nellise chimed in. "After a number of... delays, we spoke to King Sulinus of Stonegaard who eventually reported that they had no knowledge of its whereabouts, or even whether it ever existed."

"It was a remote chance, I grant you that," Castellan Hodges sighed, briefly glancing at the duke. "I thank you all for this service to the Crown, but with our two most promising locations thoroughly scoured, I think we need to put to rest the possibility of recovering this relic."

"I may be hungover, but I'm pretty sure there was a third place," Pacian said.

"Yes... technically," the duke replied delicately. "Some of you may recall there was the possibility the sceptre may have ended up on the Isle of the Dead, a day's journey by sea to the west of Fairloch." At the mention of this infamous place, Nellise and Sir William instantly became uncomfortable and shared a worried glance.

"I see the two of you remember that discussion," the castellan noted. "It was a little over two hundred years ago that the fledgling Church of Aielund defeated the wild mage known as Aeldrith, who used his power to twist the laws of nature. Although he was defeated, he was not killed. He fled to the island to escape our wrath, where he was never seen or heard from again."

"Although our nation has a long history of maritime excellence," the duke added, "superstitious sailors have long refused to go near that benighted island, and tales abound of abominations and the souls of long dead sailors walking across its barren surface. According to the work, 'Ancient Artefacts from Olde Tymes'", it is possible Aeldrith had the sceptre with him when he fled and if so, it may well reside on the island still."

"Okay, now I remember why we didn't want to go there," Aiden said dryly, "but if that's the only choice left to us, then not going isn't really a choice at all."

"Most of what we have recounted to you is superstition and legend, Aiden, but even if it turns out the island is deserted, the waters surrounding it are plagued with shallow reefs and rocks," the castellan explained. "Ships that stray too close are torn apart, their crews dashed to pieces upon the jagged rocks. I believe it is for these reasons sailors avoid the place at all cost, and for this reason alone I implore you to carefully consider the merits of travel to the isle."

"We'll have a tough time finding somebody crazy enough to sail us out there," Ronan added. "The navy doesn't permit our ships to go anywhere near it."

"There is another factor I haven't mentioned," Castellan Hodges hedged awkwardly. "After our last meeting here a few weeks ago, I was torn between waiting for word back about your success, and advising His Grace to send someone on to the isle to investigate further without delay. Last week, Sir Godfrey took it upon himself to lead an expedition to the isle in search of any trace of the sceptre. He contracted a modest fishing boat to take him there, and neither he nor that ill-fated vessel have returned. I fear the worst."

"I heard nothing about this from Sir Godfrey," the duke protested. "Why am I learning about this just now?"

"He didn't want to trouble you with unnecessary worry," the castellan replied.

"Sir Godfrey is missing, and this is the first I hear of it?" Sir William bristled. He and Godfrey were old friends, even if they were a little estranged of late, and the old knight's reaction was predictable. "We must go to the isle, if for no other reason than to rescue him!"

"If you are willing and able, then I must urge you to do precisely that," the duke responded, "but the danger is far greater than that you have already faced, with little chance of success."

"There is nothing on this earth I fear," the old knight said with conviction. "I will go by myself if I must, but I will not leave Sir Godfrey to his fate. I have lost too many friends to sit idly by while another's life hangs in the balance."

"Although I hate to say it, we need to be sure that the Sceptre of Oblivion isn't there," Aiden reluctantly added. "It's too important to ignore."

"You know there's going to be all sorts of horrors on that island, right?" Pacian mentioned with resignation in his voice. "Even if we manage to get there, we'll probably find Aeldrith still hanging around, ready to peel our faces off."

"He'd be long dead by now, surely," Nellise remarked.

"The wizard who mastered death? Yeah, I'm sure he wouldn't have figured out how to prolong his own life," Ronan drawled.

"Two centuries is a long time, even for a master of the black arts," Sayana added. "Power does not last forever."

"Be that as it may," the duke said after clearing his throat, "there is the small matter of finding passage. The Redoubtable is still in the harbour, and I hear that Captain Sir Denholm Sherrard is having difficulty meeting his crew requirements. Tell him of your mission, and that you have my consent to travel to the Isle. I must continue with pressing matters elsewhere, so I will wish you good fortune on your perilous journey."

"Thank you for your time, Your Grace," Nellise replied with a curtsy. "God willing, we shall return in a few days with the sceptre." As Aiden's companions began to file out of the royal court, he pulled the castellan aside.

"I was wondering how the princess was doing?" Aiden asked.

"She is in good health, and asks about your work on a daily basis," he replied with a knowing smile. "I shall inform her that you asked of her, which will bring a smile to her face, I'm sure. She has been doing whatever she can to ease the duke's burden, as His Grace is not a young man, as you may have noticed."

"Of course," Aiden replied. "Just tell her I said hello, and with luck, we'll be back soon."

"I shall convey your greetings when I see her next," Malcolm assured him. "Goodbye, Mister Wainwright." Aiden turned and walked quickly to catch up with the others, somewhat crestfallen that he wasn't able to see the courageous young woman who was in his thoughts more and more of late.

* * *

A strong, cold wind greeted them as they left the castle and continued down the main street of Fairloch. As they travelled to the docks, Aiden and his friends exchanged stories about their recent experiences. Valennia eagerly explained her many battles, startling passers-by with her detailed account, complete with shouted war-cries.

The city was especially busy that day, with the citizens making full use of the fair weather to accomplish their daily tasks. By the time Aiden and his companions reached the docklands, the streets were packed tight with all manner of people. The sea air was crisp and salty, almost covering the stench of dead fish and sweat that lingered throughout Fairloch's streets.

Soon, Aiden could see the harbour stretching out before them, where ships and boats of all sizes were crammed alongside every spare jetty, as merchants unloaded their precious cargo. Out beyond the forest of masts, Aiden spied the familiar sight of the Redoubtable, anchored out in deeper water.

"There she is, and looking a damn sight better than the last time I laid eyes on her," Ronan remarked, gazing out at the carrack.

"Do you think the captain will be on board, or can we find him around the docks?" Aiden asked.

"Let's go find out," the sailor answered, heading off down a long pier that Aiden recognised as the navy's own. It wasn't as cluttered with ships or boats as the civilian jetties, and the royal marines on guard there, resplendent in their red and white uniforms, kept the place secure from unwanted visitors.

Ronan didn't have any trouble securing passage past the guards, who seemed pleased to see him. The retired thief handed over a small package to one marine, who quickly tucked it into his tunic.

"Friend of yours?" Nellise asked as they walked past.

"I may have provided refreshments that made their night watches a little more bearable," Ronan hinted. "We'll find the captain in the naval office just ahead." The sailor led them further along the pier to where a modestly sized building overlooked the harbour, its wooden walls encrusted with salt from years of exposure to the sea. Ronan worked his magic on the two marines guarding the building, and within moments, Aiden and the others were inside.

To describe the interior as "austere" would be an understatement — aside from one painting of a ship hanging above the fireplace, the naval office was lined with the same wooden planks that struggled to keep the cold wind at bay. Half a dozen desks lined the walls, each with an officer of middling years scribbling away on parchment. The sight of all six men glancing up at the same time to see who had entered was almost comical.

"Woulfe, what are you doing back here?" asked the closest officer, Sir Denholm himself. The captain's shrewd, pale eyes and steely demeanour had not changed in the weeks since they had sailed with him. Ronan's cocksure stride vanished when his former commander addressed him.

"Sorry to trouble you, Captain," Ronan said. "I was wondering if the Redoubtable was available for a quick assignment."

"Are you speaking for yourself, or for someone of station?" Sir Denholm inquired.

"The duke needs us to head out to sea for a few days," Ronan explained. "It's an important matter, actually."

"May I know the destination, or do you require one of His Majesty's vessels simply to go sightseeing?" the captain asked, putting down his quill and standing before them.

"I think we should talk about this privately," Ronan said, lowering his voice somewhat.

"I see," Sir Denholm replied brusquely. "I also see that you are still travelling with Mister Wainwright and his associates. Can I infer from this that the matter at hand may put my ship and crew in danger?"

"A little, yeah," Ronan replied laconically. Sir Denholm glanced at Aiden and the others, apparently sizing up the situation internally before answering.

"Walk with me," he finally ordered the entire group, gesturing outside as he fetched his blue longcoat and wide-brimmed hat from the stand next to the door. Ronan cleared a path for him as he stepped outside, and they fell into place behind him as he strode casually along the pier. Aiden and Sir William stayed close to the front of the group, to help explain the situation.

"I heard the princess was attacked on the way to the castle on the night of our arrival," Sir Denholm said, glancing around at Aiden briefly. "I was not impressed with your conduct in this matter, Mister Wainwright, not impressed at all. It was only by the grace of God that she was not captured or killed in the encounter."

"Fortune favoured us that night," Aiden agreed, "but enough of the past — we have a pressing matter to deal with, if you're able to help. If not, we need to seek passage elsewhere."

"Very well, let us speak plainly," Sir Denholm concurred, turning to regard Aiden and the others. "This is as much privacy as we will get, short of boarding the Redoubtable."

"Sir Denholm, I am Sir William Bryce-Clifton, of the Order of the Rose Eagle," Sir William greeted the captain. "A long-time friend of mine and aide de camp to the duke, Sir Godfrey Davis, took it upon himself to travel to the Isle of the Dead in search of an object we have been hunting for some time. He has not returned, and we fear the worst."

"I am familiar with you order, Sir William, though I did not think there was anyone alive to carry on its ancient traditions," Sir Denholm remarked. "As to the plight of your friend — I respect that you would follow in his footsteps, as it were, to rescue this man. In doing so, you would have me risk my ship and crew in the treacherous waters of the Isle, to say nothing of the potential threat that may linger there? I am not given to needless superstitions, Sir William, but I tell you in truth that nobody returns from that blighted place."

"Nevertheless, we must go," the old knight stated firmly. "If your concerns preclude your participation, we shall find some other means to travel there." Sir Denholm seemed to be impressed with this statement, for he nodded to himself and turned to look out at his ship, anchored out in the bay.

"I have been a member of the Order of Aielund for nearly fifteen years," he remarked thoughtfully. "Notions of undertaking great quests in service of King and Country always seemed foolish and archaic, but when confronted with someone willing do exactly that, I find myself overcome with a desire to throw caution to the wind and become that which I always belittled. Your courage does credit to your ancient order, sir, and my hesitation shames mine. Tell me — how long has Sir Godfrey been missing?"

"Nearly a week, according to the duke," Aiden supplied.

"A week... it might as well be a lifetime," the captain muttered under his breath before turning to face the entire group. "You are all of one mind on this matter?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Pacian muttered.

"Yes, we are set upon this course," Nellise said, ignoring him. "We understand the risks involved, Captain."

"Then I shall see you to the Isle, though it may well be the last service I perform for you, or anyone else for that matter," Sir Denholm said. Aiden wasn't sure if he felt relieved or frightened by the news.

"I shall need to retrieve my armour before we leave," Sir William noted. "We should all take some time to gather supplies before we disembark, and meet back here in an hour."

"I must inform you that the only reason the Redoubtable remains at anchor here in Fairloch, is because I have had trouble replenishing the ship's complement," Sir Denholm explained. "Strong men are hard to find in this time of war, and I shall need assistance to sail her, even the short distance to the isle."

"You've got me," Ronan grunted. "And Aiden here's done some time in the crew as well."

"I only scrubbed the deck," Aiden reminded him.

"And a damn fine job you did of it," Ronan chided him.

"If it is strength you need, then I can aid you in operating that giant wooden horse of the sea," Valennia declared, much to the bemusement of the captain.

"I... will take what help is offered," he replied diplomatically, though his eyes did widen slightly at the sight of the towering akoran woman. "Very well, go about gathering your supplies, ladies and gentlemen. I shall prepare the ship to sail."

* * *

Before noon had passed, the stately Redoubtable once more set sail and tacked against the wind on her way out of the harbour. The damage she had sustained during her time at war — and from their battle against the pirate ship — had been repaired, and she practically gleamed as she cut through the calm waters with increasing speed.

Valennia was something of a novelty to the small crew, unused to having women on their ship and certainly not expecting one to join them at work on the rigging. Although she had never been to sea before, the akoran woman was a surprisingly fast learner and used her strength to do the work of two men with ease.

Ronan had been given the position of First Mate, and made it his business to keep the crew working hard. Aiden helped where he could, even if his seamanship was a little rusty. After a few hours of hard work on deck, Ronan had informed him he could take the rest of the day off, because Valennia was able to do his job better than he could. Unable to refute the logic, Aiden descended to the cabins below for a meal and some rest with his friends.

With a bowl of fresh, hot stew in his hands, he sat with Sayana, Nel and Pacian and spoke of idle things. Sir William had apparently excused himself earlier, most likely because he didn't want to be in the same room as Pacian, who spent the afternoon snuggled alongside Nellise. Aiden hid a smile at the sight of them together at last, though he did wonder about the troubled expression that occasionally surfaced on his old friend's features.

It wasn't until the sun started to set that Sayana excused herself from the group, giving Aiden a chance to catch her for a quick chat. He grabbed his backpack and headed out the door.

"Do you have a moment?" he asked her as she walked up the passage outside the cabin. "There's something I need you to take a look at." He opened the door to an empty cabin across the hall, and gestured for her to step inside. Aiden reached inside his pack and pulled out the Lexicon, instantly catching Sayana's attention.

"I've had a bit of a breakthrough with this thing," Aiden explained, activating the cube and summoning the ephemeral pages.

"You can make it work," she stated, staring at the device in fascination.

"Yes, it's a repository of information, including the entire language of the people who built it," Aiden said. "There is one part in particular that I thought might be relevant." He skimmed through the pages with one hand until they settled on the diagram he had found regarding Sayana's tattoos. She looked intently at the flickering image hovering in the air above the cube for a long moment, before it dawned on her what she was looking at.

"Is this... me?" she whispered, entranced by the discovery.

"I'm still learning the language," Aiden hedged, "but it does bear a striking similarity to your markings."

"Did they make me?" Sayana asked, startling Aiden with the thought.

"I can't answer that yet, Sy," he replied gently, aware that the question of her sorcerous origin was a touchy subject. It was sometimes easy to forget the hard life she had lived prior to meeting Aiden in the wilds.

"I've noticed the markings have grown over the past few weeks," she mentioned quietly, showing Aiden her right arm. "I'm not sure if that's supposed to happen or not."

"I really don't have any more answers for you," Aiden insisted, a little taken aback by her hunger for knowledge.

"When will you?" she persisted, gazing at him with her green eyes. This question, he had been prepared for.

"You'll be the first to know when I find out," he replied, flipping the lid of the Lexicon closed and dropping it back into his pouch.

Chapter Eighteen

Aiden stood on the bridge with Captain Sherrard just after dawn the next morning, buffeted by freezing winds as the two men stared at the bleak scene before them. After a rough night on high seas, the Redoubtable was soon to arrive at the Isle of the Dead under reduced sail. The closer they came, the more Aiden wished he hadn't agreed to this journey.

Jagged rocks jutted from the sea not far off shore, each one more than capable of gutting the hull of a ship, or completely destroying a smaller boat. Beyond them, the grey, rocky cliffs of the isle were clearly visible in the early morning light. No trees were visible on its uneven ground, and no birds flew in the skies overhead. Even if the place had no supernatural properties to it, these signs were enough to warn potential visitors that death awaited them here.

Aiden hunched down into his longcoat, struggling to keep warm in the bitter winds. Soon, they would disembark in the longboat, and try to find their way to the shore amongst the deadly rocks and powerful seas.

"In spite of appearances, the weather isn't as bad as I had feared," Sir Denholm remarked as he looked through his spyglass. "I should be able to hold station off the coast here for some time, though I must warn you, should conditions worsen, I will have no choice but to withdraw to safety."

"I understand," Aiden replied, raising his voice against the howl of the wind. "Give us as much time as you can. I don't know how long it'll take to scour the entire island, but I'm not inclined to stay here more than two days in any case."

"Then you shall have two days," the Captain declared. "Woulfe, prepare the longboat for departure!"

"Aye aye, sir," Ronan shouted back from the lower deck, automatically touching his hand to his forehead in salute.

"Gather your companions and your courage, Mister Wainwright," the captain advised. "Good luck to you, sir, and may you find that which you seek."

"Two days, captain," Aiden reminded him as he turned to descend the stairs to the lower deck. Ronan and two sailors were busy manoeuvring the longboat into position off the port side, and when Aiden went below deck to fetch everyone else. They had watched their stately arrival off the coast, and were already prepared to disembark.

There was little chatter amongst the group, no doubt due to the oppressive gloom of the task before them. While Valennia held the boat alongside, Sayana levitated herself into the boat and looked utterly miserable sitting there bobbing up and down in the rough seas. Aiden went next to assist the others with their gear, and so began the tedious process of loading the longboat while trying not to fall into the surging waters.

Once Valennia had finished lowering their gear, they really began to feel the swell toss them about. Nellise found herself in the position of holding the akoran warrior's equipment, and practically recoiled at the touch of the blackened scythe.

"I thought you said that thing wasn't cursed," Aiden remarked as he took it from her.

"I'm not sure what to think," she muttered. "There's something odd about it I can't put my finger on."

"'Odd' we can live with," Aiden answered as Valennia dropped into the longboat, completing their company. Ronan took up position at the rudder, while the rest of the men — as well as Valennia — grabbed an oar each.

"Heave!" Ronan ordered as Aiden pushed his oar against the side of the ship so he could get it into the water. Before long, the inexperienced sailors had worked out the best way to co-ordinate their efforts and with Ronan's leadership, the longboat ploughed through the swells away from the Redoubtable.

Aiden lost track of time as he focused on the task at hand, pulling on his oar in rhythm with the others against the might and fury of the sea. More than once they were slammed with waves that seemed to appear out of nowhere, and the tiny boat was tossed about as they closed on the shore. To his credit, Ronan managed to steer them around the biggest waves as he searched for a safe place to make landfall.

Nellise sat at the front of the boat, shouting advice back to Ronan as they passed by looming rocks that could easily shred their tiny boat. After a tremendous effort on the part of the crew, the longboat struck the shallows as huge breakers thundered ashore around them. Valennia leaped out of the boat along with Aiden, and the two of them managed to haul it up the narrow beach enough for the others to disembark. Pacian collapsed onto the shore with waves breaking around him, seasick and exhausted from the effort.

"We'll make sailors out of you yet," Ronan said to congratulate them as the group paused for breath. Pacian put this statement into doubt as he promptly threw up his breakfast.

"If you really want to thank me, you'll kill me now," Pacian muttered, staggering to his feet and looking at their bleak surroundings. The first thing Aiden noticed as he looked around at their situation was the abundance of driftwood scattered along the beach, which ran for less than a hundred yards along the eastern edge of the island.

Planks of wood and piles of rotted rope were strewn at various intervals, clearly the remains of other ships that had been caught up in the powerful seas off the coast and dashed to pieces on the sharp rocks.

Aiden found a high rock to stand on and looked back out at the Redoubtable, easily visible off the coast of the island. He waved his arms to signal they had made it, certain Captain Sherrard could see them through his spyglass, then returned to the boat and helped the others unload.

When the boat was empty, they pulled it further up the beach to make sure it didn't drift away, then waited while everyone strapped on their armour for the task ahead. Aiden glanced around at their surroundings, noting the massive cliffs that surrounded the small beach.

"I don't see any way to get past these cliffs," he remarked, "and this beach doesn't seem to lead anywhere either. Maybe we should have gone around the north side and looked for a landing place there."

"It seems we can follow the cliffs that way," Sayana pointed out, gesturing at a string of flat rocks in the shallows not far from their landing point. They looked slippery, but they'd allow the group to get past this insurmountable cliff and perhaps find a better approach.

"Alright, but watch your footing," Ronan advised, following the sorceress as she set out across the rocks. Unused to the metal armour she was now wearing, she seemed a little unsteady on her feet, but managed to avoid taking a dip in the sea. It was slow going, and more than once they were subjected to a wave of ice-cold water. They soon made it around the north-eastern edge of the island and found a more sheltered place to catch their breath.

The sheltering came in the form of dozens of jutting rocks that protected the shore from approach by sea, and perched amongst them was the battered hulk of a large ship, which groaned loudly with each wave.

"I can see a path amongst the rocks, Valennia remarked after scanning the cliff for a few moments. It will be difficult, yet I believe we can ascend here."

"It would be far safer to get a rope up there and throw it down," Ronan added. "I'll take care of it." Hefting a length of rope over his shoulder, he moved to the side of the cliff and promptly began walking up the side of it, using his magical boots to circumvent the laws of nature. Aiden and Sir William were used to this sight by now, but the others were startled by this sudden development.

Sayana, not to be outdone, levitated upwards and soon passed Ronan, who sped his ascent and raced her to the top. When they disappeared from view, the faint sound of their voices could be heard on the wind, though the details were beyond understanding.

"I'd give a copper jack to know what they're talking about right now," Pacian smirked. Presently, the end of the rope tumbled down the side of the cliff, and Valennia caught it and tied a knot.

One by one they tackled the cliff, and it was the better part of an hour before they had finally surmounted the obstacle. Aiden looked out across the desolate plain before them, while the others prepared to move out and saw that his earlier guess about the nature of the island had proven correct — not a single scrap of life existed on the rocky surface, not even grass. Even if the place wasn't haunted, it had certainly earned its name.

Feeling the oppressive atmosphere close in on them, Aiden and Valennia led the way, unsure what they were looking for, although certain it would be obvious amongst the bleak surroundings. Heavy clouds were moving in from the west, and within the hour, snow began to fall, whipping around them in the brisk wind and making their search that much more difficult.

Shortly afterward, Aiden crested a barren hill and almost jumped out of his skin when he came face to face with a huge skull lying upon the ground. It was reptilian in shape, and behind it, a massive framework of a body could be seen stretching for many yards out before them.

The distinctive shape of wing bones could be made out to either side of the remains, and it was then Aiden knew for sure they were looking at the bones of a dragon.

"There are more of them beyond this one," Sayana exclaimed, hovering in the air above the dead beast and scanning the horizon."

"I have heard of this place," Valennia said solemnly. "This island is where dragons come to die."

"Can you see anything else from up there?" Sir William shouted up to Sayana.

"We are nearing the western edge of the island," she called down. "If there was anything on this place, it has long been abandoned."

"That's it?" Nellise remarked. "The reputation of this place is all because of a dragon graveyard and nothing more?"

"There is still the question of what happened to Sir Godfrey," Sir William replied, wrapping his heavy white cloak around him tightly. "He must be here somewhere."

"Unless his boat was dashed to pieces on the rocks," Aiden answered grimly. "We saw a lot of wreckage, after all."

"We don't know which part of the island he might have landed on, either," Nellise added. "Perhaps he came ashore on this side."

"I have been looking for tracks and other signs of passing, but have yet to find any," Valennia said.

"Let's check the western end in case he landed there," Aiden suggested. "If there's no sign of him, we should consider abandoning this whole endeavour. There's nothing here at all, and if we start back soon, we can get back to the Redoubtable before nightfall." There was no dissent from the group at this, though Sir William seemed crestfallen at the thought of losing one more friend.

Onward they travelled, with the sounds of the sea crashing into the cliffs growing louder with each step. Soon, they arrived at the western shore and found a secluded cove nestled amongst the cliffs. A fishing boat was anchored in the cove, its sails reefed and its deck empty.

"He must have circled the island looking for the best approach," Ronan remarked. "Wish we'd bothered to do that."

"We would still have searched the entire island anyway, and discovered only that which we have seen," Nellise shrugged.

"Not so fast," Sir William interrupted. "If they also found nothing, then where is the crew? Where is Sir Godfrey? They should have returned, yet the boat sits at anchor, empty and abandoned."

"They never left," Aiden thought aloud as he arrived at the only conclusion that made sense. "Sy, can you float down there and see if there's a cave?" The sorceress silently complied, stepping off the edge of the cliff and gently floating downwards. The rest of them carefully peered over, awaiting word from down below.

"There's a cave alright," she called up to them, her voice almost lost in the blustering wind. "I see a path leading down from where you are as well. Just head south, you'll see it easily enough." Inspired by this sudden development, Aiden quickly led the others around a small hillock and found the trail Sayana had spoken of. Within minutes, they were standing before a large cave entrance, carved into the side of the cliff over countless years by the forces of nature. The sorceress emerged from the entrance and waved them in.

"I found some tracks in the mud just up ahead," she explained. "One of them was quite heavy, as if from an armoured person, and they're less than two weeks old."

"I knew Sir Godfrey would have survived," Sir William said triumphantly. "Lead us into this cave, so we might learn of his fate and that of his crew." Sayana did so, and with Valennia by his side, Sir William drew Solas Aingeal and slowly made their way into the cave.

The cave was only a few feet above sea level and would probably be partially submerged when the tide came in. Nellise and Aiden summoned their lights as it became difficult to see further in. The smooth walls glistened with moisture and the sounds of the crashing waves echoing along the tunnel slowly receded as they travelled.

After a few minutes of squelching along through the thin layer of mud, the shape of the tunnel changed dramatically — no longer was it a smooth, rounded passage, but a roughly-hewn limestone brick affair that squared off the shape of the tunnel. Aiden glanced at the others, the unspoken understanding passing between them that they had found something significant.

Dirt and muck encrusted the bricks, filling in the gaps between each stone and giving the place a rich aroma of the earth. The tunnel turned left, leaving behind the last vestiges of the natural passageway to the sea, as the group proceeded with caution into the new direction. Everyone had their weapons ready at this point and crept forward slowly, uncertain what to expect from this development.

They passed a number of antechambers off to the side, each with a cracked and broken stone door lying upon the ground in the doorway. A dozen sarcophagi lay strewn about in the rooms, their contents gone. To Aiden, it seemed as if the place had been ransacked, although the layer of dust within each of the rooms suggested that if correct, it happened long ago.

Pacian and Nellise went in to examine the last — and most intact — of these rooms, for she was curious about who had been buried here, and why the tombs had been desecrated. Pacian's motives were probably less pure, but if he was disappointed at the lack of treasures to be found, he didn't show it. Valennia and Sayana did their best to glean some footprints from the surrounding floor. Aside from the continued presence of the passing of heavy boots, nothing further was apparent.

"These burial chambers pre-date the Church of Aielundm and were not sanctified by any method I am aware of," Nellise reported. "The only symbols I can discern are not of any pagan god or gods that I learned about in ecclesiastical studies. I didn't know there were people living on this blighted rock to begin with."

"Whoever they were, their bodies have vanished," Sir William said with an edge to his voice. "Sanctified or not, someone has disturbed this burial site. This is an abomination in my eyes."

"I think we're probably a few hundred years too late to catch the culprits," Ronan remarked dryly.

"Sir Godfrey's prints continue on," Sayana reminded them. Without answers forthcoming, they had no choice but to delve further into the mysterious catacombs.

The passageway continued on for a short distance and then down a flight of stairs carved into the limestone. Cautiously, they moved on with Aiden in front, holding his auldsteel blade aloft, his light guiding them onwards. The passage levelled out and continued on for a little way, then abruptly opened out into a large chamber, the walls of which could not be seen within the range of their lights. Huge, gaping holes punctured the stone floor at regular intervals with twisted metal bars running across the top.

Easing forward slowly, Aiden moved his light over the top of one of these holes and peered inside. A chill ran down his spine as he gazed down at a pile of filth-encrusted bones. The hole was probably ten yards deep, and the rotting remains came up to just below the half-way point. Disgusted by the smell and the implications, Aiden pulled back and took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Some sort of prison pits," Nellise surmised dispassionately after a cursory glance. "It's impossible to know how many people were kept in here. There is a very powerful dark aura around this entire room... I don't like it here."

"It's not exactly a vacation for the rest of us," Ronan commented laconically. He too gazed into the pit and came up with an interesting observation. "There aren't enough bones there to make a whole person. I just see arm and leg bones, mostly. No skulls."

"Fascinating insights," Pacian growled. "Is any of this relevant?"

"I don't see Sir Godfrey in there, so no, not really," Ronan shrugged.

"This gives us a better understanding of how the island came to get its name, though," Sayana pointed out.

"The tracks continue on, although there is very little mud remaining from the boots," Valennia added, her voice trembling slightly.

"If the tracks continue, so do we," Aiden advised, gesturing for the akoran warrior to lead them onwards. It wasn't a difficult path for them to follow — Sir Godfrey had clearly moved straight through the middle of the pits towards the other end of the room. A large door loomed out of the darkness as they reached the far edge of the chamber, but they came to an abrupt halt as they saw a figure in tattered black robes leaning heavily on a tall wooden staff.

"Sir Godfrey, is that you?" Aiden asked, curious as to the nature of this strange individual. The features were obscured by his deep hood, but he could obviously hear them, for he stopped shuffling about and turned in their direction.

"I don't think that's him," Ronan murmured as it became obvious this man was no knight.

"More interlopers," the figure remarked, his voice guttural and dry. "Long has this island been a sanctuary from thy kind, yet in a fortnight's span, scurrilous and vexsome visitations prolong my great works to no end."

"He's speaking Olde Aielish," Aiden whispered to the others in surprise. "It hasn't been a spoken language in the kingdom for centuries."

"We have come seeking a missing companion of mine, and an obscure relic thought lost to the world," Sir William intoned boldly. "Who are you that makes this tomb your home?"

"I am... a caretaker," the figure rasped. "Speak of these things thou lack, pursuant to leaving this island unblemished from thy passing." Though his speech was difficult to understand, his general meaning was not.

"The relic we seek is known as the Sceptre of Oblivion," Aiden called, his voice echoing in the empty chamber. "It was thought to have been brought here centuries ago, and we want to recover it to aid us in our time of need."

"Sceptre," the figure intoned, as if unsure. "Of. Oblivion. Where didst thou come by this knowledge?"

"A tome titled 'Ancient artifacts from Old Tymes'," Aiden replied. "It listed several other possible locations, all of which we have scoured for signs of its whereabouts. This island is our last hope of finding it."

"A copy of that treatise resides in mine librarium," their host explained. "In a hundred readings betwixt covers, never have I seen that which thou describes."

"But I have seen the words with my own eyes," Aiden pressed.

"The name alone... 'Sceptre of Oblivion'," the figure rasped. "Thou hast been made the fool, boy. It smacks of falsehood." Aiden glanced around at the others, unsure if they should believe this strange monk.

"May I see your copy, sir?" he asked politely, in spite of his growing unease.

"No," came the flat answer. "That which thou seek abides elsewhere, or not at all. Speak of thine other concern, that this meeting may end." Aiden held back some colourful language so as not to upset their host, though he was bitterly disappointed at being unable to pursue this further.

"He's lying," Pacian breathed quietly, and Aiden gave him the slightest nod of agreement. Sir William had stepped forward to speak.

"We believe that Sir Godfrey Davis, of the Order of Aielund—"

"Aielunnnd," the figure interrupted, practically spitting the word out, startling them all with the sudden passion in his ancient voice. "Be thou from that Kingdom of wretches?"

"How dare you impugn my country," Sir William bristled, but the monk was paying no attention to him.

"Thine unclean line of kings has found mine refuge," the hooded man muttered ominously. "This will not stand. Thy lives are forfeit in service to the Great Cause, its hour come 'round at last."

"What?" Pacian blurted in confusion. The monk raised his staff and the room began to shake. Aiden struggled to keep his footing as dust and debris tumbled from the ceiling and the roar of falling rock could be heard from the passageway behind them.

"Get down!" Aiden roared over the tremendous noise. Everyone dove for the ground as a wall of dirt and stone rushed over them. The only one who did not take cover was Valennia, who raised her scythe and threw it at the robed man, striking him directly in the chest just before the view was obscured by the cloud of dust.

Almost a minute passed before Aiden dared to open his eyes. Everyone around him was coughing and choking as the cloud began to subside, though it seemed as though they would survive. There was no trace of the robed man, who was clearly a wizard of some kind. Behind them, the way was now blocked by a wall of stone and debris, sealing them into the catacombs. Valennia moved forward, disappointed to find her scythe lying upon the floor, unbloodied.

"Everyone okay?" Aiden croaked, receiving muted assent from his colleagues. Nellise was the only one to remain silent, her attention elsewhere.

"Something's coming," She breathed, glancing around uncertainly. Aiden looked about frantically, trying to see what had her on edge, when he felt a wave of cold such as he'd never felt before send the room's temperature plummeting. His heart skipped a beat as he locked eyes with a shadowy form drifting up from the burial pits next to him. It was inky-black and difficult to see any detail, but the flicker of a man's tormented face could be seen in the depths of the darkness.

Aiden froze in terror as the spectral visage before him reached out a vaguely skeletal hand into his chest, and the chill in the room seemed to be the height of summer compared to the icy cold that seized his heart. The wisp of a scream escaped his lips as he felt the life being sapped from him, until the humming blade of Solas Aingeal flashed past him, vaporising the grisly spectre instantly.

Aiden gasped for breath and staggered backwards, the strength taken from his limbs. Around him, more of the shadowy figures emerged from the pits and whirled through the air, surrounding the group in a wall of shifting darkness. Their hollow screams echoed through the chamber as they closed around the terrified group. Sir William stood in the van, slashing back and forth against the spectral forces, to keep them at bay.

"Rally to me!" he cried, snapping the rest of them out of their terrified trance. Aiden brought up his magical shield, but it was Nellise who stepped forward to hold back the tide. Raising her crystal in one hand, she began to glow with a pure, radiant light that bathed her comrades in its warmth. The spectres that had been closing in fell back at the emergence of the light, their shrieks turning to cries of despair.

With the turning of the tide, Aiden and his friends went on the offensive, led by the fearless Sir William. The orderly flight of the spectres was thrown into chaos as his blessed sword bit into their ranks, while Ronan's blades seemed to have no effect on the abominations as he slashed ineffectually at them. Valennia's battle scythe, taken from a dark priest, seemed to give the spirits substance as it touched them, and the akoran woman carved them up as if they were solid.

Aiden took out the wand he had retrieved from Feybourne, and spoke the word of command. A bolt of lightning crackled across the room, vaporising three spectres at once and driving others back, howling in dismay. Sayana let fly with a torrent of flames and found them to be equally effective. For the next few moments, Aiden and his companions unleashed their power and decimated the ranks until the spectres could stand it no more and dove back into the pits, unwilling to continue the assault.

Breathing hard, Aiden fell to one knee as the imminent threat subsided, his limbs shaking with fatigue.

"I don't know what the hell those things were, and I'll be happy if we never see them again," Ronan muttered.

"I think we did just fine," Pacian growled, almost eager to continue the fight. He pointed the business end of his crossbow down one of the pits, but was disappointed to find nothing there.

"This place is a bastion of unholy power," Sir William remarked as he caught his breath. "I have no doubt Sir Godfrey has run afoul of that wizard and his nefarious associates."

"I think there is little doubt as to his identity," Aiden added, his voice weak as he caught the attention of everyone present. "Those spectres came at his behest, and he has no fear of existing in this place. Note that I said 'existing', not 'living', for I believe that was Aeldrith himself. Nobody else in history had so much power over the dead, and all we see before us was the reason he was driven from our lands centuries ago."

"How can a man live for centuries?" Valennia asked in disbelief. "Surely this is some acolyte of the original, carrying on his master's dark works."

"We did fight men with power over the dead back in the senate a few weeks ago," Ronan agreed. "Maybe this is where they come from."

"The one we spoke to didn't talk in Olde Aielish," Aiden answered as Nellise came over and laid a hand on his shoulder, and commenced praying. "In any case, I don't think we're getting out through that rockslide anytime soon. We should press forward and learn what we may. Our weapons are capable of dealing with these monsters."

"I'll get the door open," Pacian said, shouldering the crossbow and heading to the large metal gate that barred their way. Aiden nodded absently as he felt his energy returning through Nellise's hand. He slowly stood and gave her an appreciative nod before turning to watch Pacian work his magic on the door.

Within a few minutes the gate opened, and another passageway beyond beckoned. Steeling his nerves, Aiden and Sir William led the way forward, his senses alert for danger in the dark catacombs. It wasn't long before they arrived at a junction — the left passage had collapsed a short way along, and the way to the right ended in another stairwell spiralling into the darkness below.

There was something lying on the floor just before the stairs, with the dark form of a spectre hovering above. At the approach of Sir William and his blade, the spectre vanished into the wall with hardly a glance at them, leaving them free to investigate. As they closed in, it became apparent that it was a body, encased in scarred and battered plate armour, with splintered bones scattered around the floor beside it. Sir William staggered forward at the sight of Sir Godfrey's face inside the visored helm.

"No... my old friend," the old knight whispered as he knelt by Godfrey's side. Aiden too felt crestfallen at the sight of the elder statesman brought low in this terrible place. Nellise put a consoling arm on the knight's shoulder while Ronan went through the Sir Godfrey's belongings.

"He didn't have much on him, just a small pendant around his neck, and a book."

"Let me see that," Aiden asked, taking the book from Ronan's offered hand. "It looks like he was wise enough to keep a journal." He leafed through the pages, noting the dates and the general musings of the man as he went about his daily affairs. The last entries were sure to be of great importance, so Aiden flipped ahead to see what was written there.

"'It is becoming plain that there is a spy in the Royal Court,' he writes. 'I fear the person behind the assassination attempt at the senate, this Number One character, may still be lurking about, although the king's spymaster has not been able to confirm this. It is more urgent than ever that we recover the Sceptre of Oblivion and I believe the men and women we have sent in are not enough. Time is of the essence, so I must expedite the matter. I will go to the Isle of the Dead in search of this relic, though I dare not tell the duke of my mission, for I cannot rule out the possibility he is connected to the conspiracy against the Crown.'"

"He suspected the Duke?" Nellise asked, looking up at Aiden incredulously.

"Apparently so," he replied grimly, unsettled by this information. "Godfrey continues. 'If His Grace has been compromised, or he is he being coerced somehow, I dare not take the chance of letting those nefarious forces know of my plans. I shall leave a note for the castellan to find in due course, so that my fate will eventually be known. Should I fail to return, and if this journal is recovered, may those who uncover it complete my mission. I go now to do my duty to God, the king, and for Aielund.'"

"We have been betrayed," Valennia growled. "The man responsible for sending us here and to the other places we visited may be working with the enemies we defeated weeks ago, but failed to destroy. We have been sent here to die, while their plans for revenge unfold." Everyone was quiet as this statement sank in.

"I have always thought of Duke Charles an honourable man," Sir William remarked, "but if Sir Godfrey had reason to suspect him of treason, there may well be cause for concern, difficult though it may be to believe."

"Was there anything else?" Pacian asked of Aiden in a quiet voice.

"The final entry is short," Aiden replied. "'Having secured the services of a local fisherman, I have arrived at the Isle. The way forward is clear, though the men with me are beset with superstitious fears of this place. I must go on alone, and pray for my deliverance.' That's the end of it," Aiden finished sombrely.

"This pendant is blessed," Nellise observed, holding it in her hand. "Doubtless this is why the evils of this place have left his body alone all this time."

"They shall not get a chance to defile his remains," Sir William said through gritted teeth. "I shall personally see to it that whatever dark powers of corruption and decay reside here are burned from the earth, and the land sanctified in the name of God. And if it is indeed Aeldrith behind all of this, he will rue the day he became immortal, for I shall make him beg for death, for the unspeakable crimes he has committed."

"Then we will return to Fairloch to wring the truth of this matter from the duke," Valennia added with grim intent. The old knight closed the visor on Sir Godfrey's helm and led them into hell.

Chapter Nineteen

The vastness of the cave at the bottom of the stairs could be heard more than seen, as their sight was limited by the range of their meagre lights. A breeze gusted past, carrying with it the stench of things long dead and for this reason, Aiden was glad he couldn't see more than a dozen yards in any direction. A narrow path of paved flagstones led away from the stairs and into the darkness beyond.

What had seemed to be some sort of bridge across the cavern, turned out to be the remnants of a proper floor, its edges crumbling away into the vast emptiness below, leaving only a web of interconnected pieces of the old floor supported by ancient columns.

Sir William led the way with Solas Aingeal held before him, the blessed sword glowing with light in the unnatural conditions. Revenge for his fallen comrade was spurring the knight onward, and it was all they could do to keep up with him on the uneven surface.

The spectres that had assailed them near the black pits returned, swirling in a cloud just on the edge of their vision. Although their lights did not penetrate the darkness for more than a dozen yards, just beyond they could see movement below.

"There's something climbing up the columns," Aiden breathed, his voice trembling. Pacian shed light on the problem by shooting a glowing crossbow bolt into the writhing mass just beyond their sight, revealing the true nature of what was coming. Dozens of rotting skeletons, animated by fel magic, were climbing up the columns. Some of them were clad in rusting armour, others were bare, but all of them stared up at Aiden with hollow eye sockets as they closed in.

At that same moment, the spectres around them started to dart into the light, lashing at Aiden and the others as they made their way across the unsheltered path. The light from Nellise's crystal bathed them in divine radiance, yet this wasn't enough to stop the onslaught.

Their progress halted as the skeletal warriors ascended to the bridge. Sir William fearlessly charged into their ranks and began cutting them to pieces. Valennia and Aiden struck out at the spectres as they came past, but there were simply too many of them. More than once Aiden was struck by the unnatural cold of their ephemeral claws and felt weaker with each passing moment. For the first time, he saw genuine fear in Valennia's eyes.

"I don't think I can hold them off forever," Nellise breathed, maintaining her calm as she channelled the might of Kylaris.

"Behind us!" Sayana cried as more skeletons rose up to block the path back. This did not present a problem for the sorceress however, as she unleashed a ball of fire that struck the pavement and blasted them into the abyss. They were soon replaced by more warriors and Aiden wondered just how many were down here. The path before them was filled with the skeletal warriors as far as their light travelled, and Sir William was fighting a pointless battle.

"Will, step to the left!" Aiden ordered as he levelled his wand at the oncoming darkness. The knight held position on the left side of the broken floor and Aiden conjured a bolt of lightning that crackled through the ranks of the undead, blasting them apart and clearing the way.

Without delay, Sir William pushed forward with the rest of his allies following close behind. The skeletal warriors were continuing to rise, however, and when they were walking over the section of floor supported by the column, filthy hands clawed at their feet. Pacian screamed and fired a bolt at each skeleton that poked its head above the floor line, and it wasn't until he missed that he noticed something terrible.

"There's thousands of them down below!" he shrieked in rising panic. Aiden glanced over his shoulder and saw, by the light of Pacian's bolts, a sea of the risen dead clambering over each other in an effort to reach them on the raised platform.

For now, only their mobility and Nellise's unceasing prayers kept them from being overwhelmed by the army of the dead. This changed when the broken floor came to an abrupt end a short distance away, as Aiden had feared.

"We cannot go on," Sir William called, looking about in dismay at this turn of events.

"Down there," Ronan pointed out, having spotted something at the limit of their sight. Aiden looked carefully and saw a section of the path had dropped away, having come to rest over twenty feet below them. Any thoughts of climbing down fled as Aiden saw a large group of skeletal warriors climb onto it, staring lifelessly up at them. Before he could formulate a plan, Sayana made her way up from the back line, swapping places with Valennia.

"I'll take care of this," she assured them, shimmering from various protective magics laid over her armour. "Give me one end of the rope, and secure the other to the path."

"Got it," Ronan replied, uncoiling the rope he had with him still and handing her one end. Aiden stepped back to make room for him, flinching slightly as Pacian continued to shoot bolts into the host below them.

"Pace, save your ammunition," Aiden snapped, the stress of their predicament starting to grate on his nerves. "We don't know how much further we have to go. We're not going to win this with fighting." Pacian stopped shooting, but kept the crossbow aimed behind them.

Sayana leaped from their lofty perch and floated down to the lower floor, landing gently upon the blackened flagstones to begin securing the rope. Aiden's view was obscured by darkness as the spectres, sensing her vulnerability, began to swoop in on the sorceress.

"Look out!" Aiden cried as they clawed at Sayana. Her magic protected her to some degree, yet she cried in pain as she continued to work. Aiden fired off another stroke of lightning, vaporising several of the spectres. Pacian shot a couple of bolts into the mix with similar results, but by the time the spectres withdrew, Sayana was no longer moving.

"Sy!" Valennia called down, eliciting no response from the red-haired girl. Spitting out a curse, Ronan tested the rope and found it to be strong enough to bear his weight, then started rappelling down.

"Nellise, you're going to have to go down next." The serene cleric nodded vaguely and made her way forward. When she went to put her crystal aside, Aiden stopped her.

"We'll be dead in seconds if you stop," he advised, coming up with an idea. Activating his gauntlet, he took Nellise around the waist with his other hand and grabbed onto the rope. With the added strength of his relic, Aiden had no trouble carrying Nellise down to the platform below, landing lightly on the ancient flagstones next to Ronan and Sayana's unmoving form.

Aiden deactivated the gauntlet, unsure how long it could function and then made room for the others as they slid down the rope, one-by-one. Nellise checked on Sayana while Ronan watched, but Aiden was on alert for trouble and saw it just ahead. Although they had descended roughly twenty-five feet, Aiden and the others were still fifty feet above the true floor of this cavern. The path before them continued onward at a downward slope, leading him to believe they were soon to run afoul of the entire army.

"Sy's unconscious, but alive," Ronan reported. "She must have known what would happen when she came down here," he added in a low voice.

"Carry her, we need to keep moving," Aiden instructed, his eyes scanning the ground below. More undead were starting to climb the supporting columns, so it was only a matter of moments before they would be overwhelmed. Ronan lifted Sayana in his arms and they set out along the platform once more, slowly descending towards the cavern floor.

At the edge of their light, Aiden could see broken stone buildings, columns and archways from some kind of ancient city. The entire place had clearly fallen from above due to some kind of calamity, and it was possible they were battling the population of this fallen city, animated by Aeldriths' necromancy.

The broken floor suddenly shuddered, as if from a massive impact on one of its columns. Glancing over the side, Aiden spotted a number of much larger foes amongst the seething horde that were bashing the columns with their huge skeletal arms, and the ancient stone was beginning to give way.

"Hold on to something!" Aiden cried as the final blow destroyed the last of the supports, and the far end of the platform plummeted to the ground, sending splinters of stone scattering throughout the host. Aiden and the others lost their footing and slid towards the ground at increasing speed, right into the path of the terrible monsters awaiting them. Aiden raised his arm and sent another bolt of lightning into their ranks, just before he and his companions tumbled into the exploded remains.

Valennia was the first to regain her footing as the host closed in, and brought her scythe to bear, spinning around with the blade extended and shattering everything it touched. The light from Nellise's crystal wavered as she tried to recover from the fall, and the army of the dead leaped at them. Filthy claws and bones used like clubs hammered at Aiden, who lashed out with his sword in an effort to regain his footing.

He had taken a beating by the time he managed to stand up, and did not hesitate to activate his gauntlet. With strength surging through him, he threw off the debilitating effects of the spectre's fleeting attacks and crashed through the horde, sundering skeletons into dust with each powerful sweep of his ancient sword.

A giant skeleton loomed over him, its body a grotesque assortment of smaller bones fused unnaturally into a single massive body, with three skulls adorning the top of its torso. It slammed one of its six-foot long arms into the ground where Aiden had been standing a moment before, and followed through with its other, smashing into his unprotected side and sending him rolling across the ground.

Aiden was quick to get back on his feet and charge back towards it. With his gauntlet starting to glow red with heat, he swept his blade careening through the fused bones on its forward leg, shattering it completely and toppling the creature to the ground like an unholy dead tree. Its bones were thick enough to survive the fall, but not strong enough to survive the incoming strike from Valennia, who leaped through the air and brought her scythe down on its remaining skulls.

The light from Nellise's crystal suddenly flared to an incredible brilliance, almost like looking at the heat emanate from a furnace. The intensity of the light shattered nearby smaller skeletons, and charred the larger ones so badly they actually retreated into the darkness.

Amidst the carnage, Nellise stood holding her crystal aloft, a beautifully serene expression on her exquisite features. The others looking like they had been scratched and beaten quite badly in the assault, but were quickly taking advantage of the lull to regroup.

"There's a gate over there," Ronan yelled, pointing to a wall that stood right at the edge of their vision.

Aiden quickly deactivated the smoking gauntlet as they followed Sir William over to the massive wooden gate, braced with belts of rusted steel and with a very ominous-looking lock prominently on the front.

Ronan deposited Sayana against the gate, the sorceress still unmoving in spite of everything. Aiden felt a lump in his throat at the sight of her so pale and lifeless, but he had other concerns to occupy his thoughts at that moment.

"Pacian, get the door open," Aiden advised. "Nel, you're going to have to do something for Sayana — we need her."

"That will leave us vulnerable to attack," the cleric warned, the tone of her voice still sweetly musical despite the gravity of her words.

"Leave that to us," Valennia replied grimly, glancing at Aiden and Sir William. "You have become strong in your travels, Aiden. I am in awe of your might."

"Don't get used to it," Aiden grumbled, glancing down at the still-smoking gauntlet. "I can't maintain that for very long."

"Here they come," Sir William interrupted, still trying to catch his breath from his efforts. The light from Nellise's crystal dimmed as she turned her attention to Sayana, and on cue, the skeletal warriors of this damned place returned in force. Pacian started investigating the complexities of the ancient lock while the three warriors took up position around the gate and met the assault with courage and steel.

Aiden fired another lightning bolt into the mass, blasting many skeletons before more came in to take their place. There would be no victory over the army of the dead — all they could hope for was to hold them off until they made it through the gate.

Sir William barely had to hit the gathered undead, for the aura of light surrounding Solas Aingeal was enough to cleanse the dead of whatever foul magic suffused their decaying bodies. Valennia smashed apart the ranks of their enemies with sheer power and rage. She didn't even try to defend herself, relying on her dwarven-crafted plate armour to deflect the clawing attacks of their unclean enemy.

Aiden risked a glance behind him, and could plainly see Pacian struggling with the door. Ronan was with him, the two experts seemingly at a loss to figure out the secret to the door's mechanism. Ronan gave up and began walking up the gate, with his enchanted boots holding to its surface until he disappeared from view.

"Ronan and I can't get this bloody lock open," Pacian reported, "but I reckon there's a crack through the wall someplace where he can slip in and open it from the other side. Hold out a bit longer and we'll get this thing open, I swear."

"We could use a hand over here!" Aiden called back, lathered in sweat from each swing of his blade.

"I've only got ten bolts left," Pacian answered, shooting one into the throng. "Make that nine," he added tersely. Aiden spat a curse and pressed the attack, hoping that Ronan could get the door open before fatigue got the better of him. His breath was coming in laboured gasps, and he was starting to slow when he heard the sound of the latch opening behind them.

"Get inside, quick!" Ronan blurted as he helped an apparently conscious Sayana to her feet, while Nellise sent out a wave of divine light once more to push back the advancing undead. Aiden staggered through the gate last, then slammed it shut behind them. He leaned forward and pulled out a skeletal hand from his leg, the bloodied bones still squirming about as they tried to work their way further into his flesh. He tossed the hand to one side and shattered it with his sword.

"Sorry that took so long," Ronan apologised. "The gate was barred from this side, but I found a crack in the ceiling, just like Pace thought. Nice one, mate."

"A lot of good it's going to do," Pacian muttered bleakly. "This place will be the end of us." As he spoke, the ancient doors shuddered as their relentless opponents began hammering upon it. Ronan double-checked to make sure it was secure, but Aiden was beginning to see what Pacian was talking about.

"Are you okay?" Aiden asked of the sorceress, who nodded weakly in reply. Nearby, Sir William was leaning heavily against the wall struggling for breath. Aiden felt sorry for the old man, for although his conviction and courage were strong, his body was not what it used to be.

Looking at their surroundings, Aiden could see the gate must have led them outside the ancient ruined city itself, for the roughly-hewn cavern before them seemed far less "civilised" than the place they'd just run through. It was a massive open area though, with traces of light filtering in from cracks in the ceiling hundreds of feet above them. The remains of a bridge could be seen at the edge of the light, the bulk of its frame lost to a great chasm below.

"Thy ruinous machinations will be for naught," a dry, rasping voice echoed across the cavern, drawing the attention of everyone present. "Ten thousand warriors of ruin answer my call, heedless of death. Aielund will rue the day they sent thee to end mine existence." The ground shook beneath them, interrupting the reply Aiden was preparing. Something moved at the edge of the light. Something big. The ground shook with its every footfall, and Aiden braced himself for the worst.

The huge skull of a dragon's head loomed into view thirty feet off the ground, bone white and sporting an array of sword-like teeth in its jaw. Its eye sockets were as empty as any of the other warriors they had faced, and the sight of it struck terror into Aiden's heart. He involuntarily crawled backward into the others as it came into full view, it jaws opened in a silent roar.

The spell of fear was broken as Pacian sent a bolt flying into its ribcage, blasting one of the massive bones from the body which shattered on the stone floor of the cavern. It served as a rallying cry to the others, who burst into action. Aiden raised his wand and conjured a blast of crackling electricity into its bulk. Nellise stepped forward with her crystal and holy symbol raised, sending an immense wave of divine energy towards the undead dragon.

The air rippled as if from a great heat, but the dragon's aged skeleton weathered the storm of light and it lashed out with its claw at the source, slamming Nellise in the chest and sending her tumbling head-over-heels. The light faded, and the dragon charged in with unnatural speed.

Aiden's companions were scattered as they tried to avoid its deadly charge, and as before, Sir William stepped up to the fight, the blade of Solas Aingeal bathed in a plume of holy fire as he swept it towards the great jaw before him. Several of its massive teeth were severed as the blade swept past, but the undead thing knew no pain or fear, and did not hesitate to clamp down on the knight's already battered armour.

Sir William was picked up and tossed to the floor, even as the light from his blessed sword scorched the unholy construct. The impact left the old knight vulnerable, as one of the dragon's claws descended upon him. Valennia was quick to intercede, slamming herself bodily into the foreleg to veer it off course, saving Sir William's life.

"This one is mine," Valennia growled as she recovered, her fear replaced with a terrible fury. Aiden was about to make a suggestion when he noticed the robed form of Aeldrith appear out of nowhere a mere ten yards away. The necromancer raised his staff and Aiden was struck with an invisible force, throwing him onto the ground and sending the wand skittering across the stone.

A jet of fire surged through the air toward Aeldrith, only to be turned aside with a wave of his staff. Sayana was back in the fight, though her effectiveness was in question. Pacian loosed a crossbow bolt through the air and struck the withered mage dead-on, only to be stopped by the flash of spectral armour surrounding the ancient wizard.

Aiden had more pressing matters to deal with, however, for despite her best efforts, Valennia was barely able to match the unholy might of the dragon, her armour already showing numerous dents from the ferocity of their fight.

Valennia retaliated with a great sweeping arc that drove her scythe through one of the monster's claws, sundering it from the body and then following through with a cut at its leg that chipped the immense bone limb. Her terrible foe did not flinch at the gradual destruction of its body, instead bringing its damaged claw across to slam directly into Valennia's side, sending her staggering over the floor.

Aiden was about to go to her aid when he suddenly felt the air around him burning like acid. He writhed around in agony for a moment as he felt the skin flayed from his body by Aeldrith's power, the rest of his companions feeling the effects of the dark magic just as keenly as he.

The onslaught finally subsided, and Aiden struggled for breath, all the while knowing deep down that he didn't have time. Unable to locate the wand he had dropped, Aiden had to resort to more mundane efforts to battle their foe. The metal of the ancient gauntlet had cooled since he last used it, so he reactivated it and gripped his sword tightly as he charged at the black mage. With strength thrumming through his body he scythed his auldsteel blade at Aeldrith, striking with enough force to cut through his spectral armour and slice deeply across his chest.

The withered fabric of his robe gave way, revealing the true nature of the wizard. They had battled skeletal warriors with more flesh on them than this thing standing before him, the decaying remains of Aeldrith having long ago past the point where a mortal man would have perished. But worst of all were his eyes — instead of the empty sockets of the other undead, the wizard stared back at him with two rubies, glowing blood red with terrible fury.

With a whispered word and a gesture, Aiden was once again pushed by an invisible force. Reaching forward with his gauntlet, he pushed back at the unseen power and skidded to a halt, the two of them locked in a duel of strength and willpower. It was broken when a flash of green energy crackled past Aiden, blasting into Aeldrith's exposed side and vaporising his right arm.

A dry scream of dust erupted from the undead wizard's lipless jaw and with a gesture from his staff, he vanished. Aiden turned and saw the others back on their feet, more or less, their skin appearing raw and bloodied in the bright light. Valennia continued her battle with the dragon despite being struck by the same magic as the others.

The light around Sayana flickered and dimmed for a moment as she tried to draw in the energy from her surroundings, but in this dark place filled with death, she struggled to absorb power. Aiden could feel some of his own energy being syphoned off, and suspected the others nearby felt the same effect.

Finally, Sayana drew in enough energy to fire off another blast of crackling green destruction. The bolt shot out and struck the huge skeletal monster in the chest, shattering its entire ribcage to dust and sending its right arm clattering to the ground.

Sir William came in on the beast's flank, smashing through bones with ease as Solas Aingeal wrought its terrible fury upon the unholy creation. With his bold attack, everyone joined in the attack upon the dragon, smashing bone and sundering its form with all manner of weaponry, until it crashed to the ground and shattered into a hundred pieces.

Their victory was short-lived however, as with a flash of light, Aeldrith reappeared on the scene, his body somehow completely intact. While Aiden pondered this, a beam of crackling green energy formed and shot forth from his staff, sizzling through the air to strike at Sayana. The sorceress leaped to one side as soon as she saw it coming, but her legs were scalded as the spell shot past, blasting a hole in the stone where she had been standing. Aiden went to charge the wizard again, but he had vanished once more.

"What manner of creature is this, which can ignore death itself?" Valennia snarled in frustration. There was no time to ponder this, for the wizard reappeared a dozen yards away and sent out a beam of darkness which struck Valennia and brought her to her knees. Pacian shot a quarrel at Aeldrith as he disappeared once more.

"We need to find a way to neutralise him or we're done for," Aiden said as he wracked his brains trying to recall how such magic worked. When Aeldrith reappeared, however, he found his magics stymied by Nellise, who was back on her feet and using her gifts to block the wizard's attacks. The wizard vanished once more and did not reappear, giving Aiden some time to figure things out.

The only magic he knew of that could prolong someone's life in this manner was considered one of the darkest incantations known. One of the crumbling tomes he'd read back in Coldstream had touched on the subject, but did not go into detail. However, he recalled some of the text describing that in exchange for the power to defy death, those that invoked such magic had to store their life force outside of their bodies, rendering them undead, yet alive — the process of becoming a lich.

Aiden looked closer at their surroundings, looking above and around at the stone cavern they stood in. There was no sign of a laboratory, or even the library that Aeldrith had hinted at earlier. Something was amiss, but found himself distracted by a new terror.

The bones of the dragon began to reform and assemble into the huge monstrosity once more. Pacian actually began to whimper a little as their seemingly indestructible enemies appeared to be able to continue the fight forever. Aiden glanced at Sir William, who looked absolutely spent. His sword hung low as he stood, chest heaving with each laboured breath. He raised his visor and looked back with a look of futility and guilt in his eyes.

Aiden suddenly had a flash of inspiration — however Aeldrith was manipulating the bones of the dragon, he needed to be close in order to do it. Magically shifting his vision, Aiden glanced around and saw the shimmering blue figure of the wizard, invisible to the unaided eye.

But more than that, ascending over a chasm ahead of them was a stairway made from stone hovering invisibly in the air, leading up to a large platform fifty feet off the ground. He had discovered Aeldrith's lair, yet the undead dragon was between them and it.

"I can see him," Aiden hissed, loud enough to be heard by only those close to him. "Get me past the dragon and I can finish this!"

"If that is what you need, then that is what you shall have," Sir William uttered as Sayana unleashed a jet of fire upon the reformed dragon. "If he can rebuild it at will, then we must take it away from him. Push it over the edge!" Sir William clapped his visor down and rallied for one final assault. Nellise pulled out her mace and readied her shield, standing by his side as they prepared to charge in, with Valennia snarling as she struggled back to her feet.

"Aielund forever!" Sir William cried as he raised Solas Aingeal against the towering might of the dragon and led the charge. Aiden activated his gauntlet once more as he joined them, and with the support of the other three, the four warriors slammed into the ribbed side of the undead monster, managing to shove it back several feet towards the edge. Although Valennia was clearly barely able to stand, she summoned her reserves and roared as they heaved against its weight.

Sir William was forced to raise his shield and defend them from the jaws of the behemoth as it snapped and clawed at the four shoving it closer to oblivion with each moment. Aiden's gauntlet smoked and glowed from heat as he heaved with all of his augmented might, and behind them, he could hear Sayana and the others dealing with a resurgent Aeldrith.

Despite Sir William's best efforts, the claws of the dragon smashed at the four of them, knocking Nellise away even as the beast's legs went over the edge of the precipice. Aiden's hand was being scalded as the gauntlet continued to overheat, but he gritted his teeth and pushed harder, holding out just a little longer to see the dragon gone once and for all.

The back half of the creature hung over the edge, but Aiden couldn't stand the heat of the gauntlet any longer, and deactivated it. While doing so he was flung back a few yards and lost track of things for a moment. The heat from his right hand was too much, and he quickly removed the gauntlet and dropped the smoking device to the stone.

Sayana had one last surge of power and used it to push at the dragon's body with incredible force, finally driving it over the edge, but not before its jaws clamped down on Sir William.

Solas Aingeal was flung from his grasp as the cliff crumbled away under the weight of the dragon. Nellise screamed in despair as the old knight was pulled down into the chasm, with Aiden transfixed as Sir William's last words were shouted to him.

"Finish this!" he cried as he disappeared over the edge, his body already broken by the monster's jaws. The sounds of bones shattering could be heard as it tumbled down the chasm, and with it, the last knight from the Order of the Rose Eagle perished.

There was no time to grieve, however, for Aeldrith howled in rage at the destruction of his pet, and summoned a ball of fire at Sayana. Instead of being caught up in the conflagration, the sorceress reached up and caught the ball in one hand, holding it there for a moment before throwing it back at the lich.

The fireball was swept aside with one sweep of the lich's staff and detonated on the wall, harming nobody but showering the area with dirt and rock. While Aeldrith was distracted however, Valennia had picked herself up and thrust her scythe into his withered body. The lich screamed and vanished, but this time, Aiden was ready.

With his sight shifted, he could see the invisible form of the lich fly up to the platform above them and coalesce around something on top. Aiden gripped his sword and took off up the stairs, taking them two at a time as he lunged after the monster. He wasn't quite at the top when Aeldrith reformed, and Aiden found himself in a standoff.

"I am beyond any of thee," the lich rasped at him. "I admire thy tenacity, however. Thou and thy friends will—"

"Shut up and die," Aiden snarled, lunging forward with his auldsteel blade. The sword was blocked by Aeldrith's staff, and with barely a flick of his wrist, Aiden was sent tumbling backwards.

He was hard-pressed, but not alone. With his comrades coming to his aie, Aeldrith was distracted enough to gived Aiden the opening he'd been looking for. He dashed past the lich and found a series of ornate jars sitting prominently on the desk before him. The vengeful young man didn't have time to figure out which was the right one, so he swept his blade through the lot of them, shattering them completely and unleashing a strange, glowing mist from the correct vial.

Whirling around to face Aeldrith, Aiden felt a sense of grim satisfaction as he saw the withered lich turning to dust, a dry scream of protest escaping from his mouth just before he crumbled into nothingness. With his death, the stone platform and stairs suddenly became visible, and Aiden released his focus and stared down at the lich's remains.

A sound, not unlike a sigh of relief, echoed through the cavern as pounding of the undead upon the city gate suddenly stopped, and the denizens returned to their eternal rest. Aiden collapsed onto the floor, suddenly overcome by their narrow victory and what it had cost them.

Chapter Twenty

Aiden stared into the abyss after the fight, hoping against hope to see some sort of movement in the darkness. In the end, he had to accept Sir William had perished in the fall. Nellise also spent some time gazing down into the depths of the earth, the cleric distraught at the sudden demise of her friend and mentor.

The knight had spent decades waiting to serve the Kingdom, and it was only in his final days that he truly came alive. His sacrifice was made more poignant by the expression Aiden had noticed shortly before the end — Sir William had felt guilty for leading them further into this trap and had taken personal responsibility for getting them out again.

"I killed him," Sayana whispered as the group reassembled on the platform. "I was the one who threw the monster off the edge, and—"

"It was not your fault, sister," Valennia interrupted before Sayana could go any further. "The beast grabbed Sir William as it fell, something you could not have foreseen. You saved us, in the end, no less than he did with his sacrifice. I spoke ill of him time after time, but never was he found wanting for courage. It was a glorious death and we should shed no tears for his demise, but instead focus our rage on those who brought us here."

Aiden looked up at her, blinking away the tears that welled in his eyes and realised she was right. His sorrow was replaced by a growing anger as he picked himself up and stormed over to the lich's laboratory. There were several desks around the outer edge of the platform, and a door led to a room cut into the side of the chasm wall, inside of which were row after row of bookshelves.

He looked through the assorted paraphernalia on the desk with increasing frustration, tossing aside anything irrelevant without a moment's thought. The anger within him suddenly exploded, and Aiden swept aside everything on the desks, smashing glass vials and scattering parchments to the stone floor. There was no sign of the sceptre, and he began to suspect that the lich had told the truth.

Ignoring the concerned looks from his comrades, Aiden went into the library and searched for Aeldrith's copy of Ancient Artefacts from Old Tymes. It didn't take long to locate the book, for the lich had kept his library in impeccable order. The cover seemed almost identical to the one the duke had shown him back in Fairloch, although this one seemed to be a little worse for wear.

Flipping through the pages, Aiden went searching for the entry on the Sceptre of Oblivion, which had been on page forty-three in the other tome. He spat out a loud curse as he saw that the page featured a different relic of note, one that Aiden recalled being just before the entry for the sceptre. He checked to make sure some pages weren't stuck together, or if the page in question had been torn out.

Nothing. It was as if the entry for the sceptre had never existed in this copy.

"It's true... the damned thing doesn't exist," Aiden confirmed with leaden words as he emerged from the library. "Little wonder nobody else had ever heard of it before."

"Then Godfrey was right," Pacian growled. "Duke Charles sent us on a fool's errand and ultimately, to our deaths."

"I can scarcely believe it," Nellise whispered, her hand unconsciously grasping Pacian's. "The duke seemed like such a kindly old man. What would he stand to gain by working with assassins and traitors?"

"He wants to be king," Ronan remarked. "Who doesn't want more power and control in their life?" At that moment, Aiden was struck with a terrible thought.

"Princess Criosa is under lock and key in the castle," he breathed. "She's right where he wants her and if the duke wanted us dead, he might be about to make his next move."

"We need to get back as soon as possible," Pacian agreed. "It'll take us days to dig through that collapsed passage." Aiden nodded absently as he carefully placed the book into his backpack.

"We can grieve over Sir William's loss after we have avenged his death," he stated bluntly. "Gather up your gear, we're going to find another way out of this place."

"There might be some arcane method Aeldrith used to move around," Sayana pointed out as she knelt down to investigate. "I can see that most of those parchments you threw to the floor carry an aura of power with them." Aiden glanced around and shifted his sight until he could see what she was referring to, and saw that practically everything here was suffused with magic. He scooped up the scrolls and leafed through them for anything useful.

"While you go through all of that, I am going to sanctify this place," Nellise said quietly. "If this is to be Sir William's grave, I will not have his remains defiled."

Aeldrith had acquired a large number of arcane scrolls in his time, or had possibly even created them himself. If his history was correct, Aiden figured the ancient wizard had been here for over two centuries, before the official formation of the Kingdom of Aielund itself. Incantations of staggering power were inscribed onto the parchments, and despite their predicament, Aiden was in awe of the collection he held before him. After several minutes of careful reading, he found what he was looking for.

"This will get us out of here," he announced, reading through the script in detail. Everyone except Nellise was seated on the stone floor of the laboratory, exhausted and lost after their costly victory. Their hope began to rekindle as Aiden spoke, however.

"Will it blast that passage open?" Pacian asked curiously.

"If I read this correctly, we will be instantly transported to a location of my choosing."

"... Is it safe?" Ronan asked as everyone responded with blank stares. "What happens if you read it incorrectly?"

"Very bad things," Aiden surmised after a cursory examination. "The greater the distance, the greater the risk, so to be on the safe side I'll take us to the deck of the Redoubtable."

"Study that incantation well, Aiden," Sayana advised sternly. "I do not wish to be dropped into the sea, or someplace worse." Taking her advice, Aiden spent the next hour studying the scroll while Nellise went about sanctifying the cavern. The cleric sprinkled drops of blessed water on the floor and walls, whispering prayers as she went.

Aiden took al of the scrolls, certain they would come in handy sooner rather than later and carefully picked up Aeldrith's staff.

"Can I take a look at that?" Sayana asked, pointing to the staff. Aiden nodded and handed it to her, curious as to what she'd make of the arcane weapon. The sorceress held it close to her, eyes closed for a long moment, before she nodded to herself.

"Well?" Aiden prompted as he retrieved his gauntlet.

"I think I can make use of this," she replied softly. "Let me hold onto it for a while."

Nearby, Valennia found something of interest on the cold stone floor, bending down to pick up what appeared to be a shard of curved bone from the reanimated dragon corpse. It was nearly as large as her arm and although cracked and chipped, the akoran warrior strapped it to her pack. When she noticed Aiden watching her, she quietly explained what she was doing.

"I failed to slay the dragon in the mountains when given the chance, but when I return to my homeland with this horn, none will dispute my victory over this one."

"Does it matter that it was already dead when we got here?" Ronan pointed out.

"They don't need to hear that part," Valennia responded.

Aiden's attention was caught by Nellise standing over Solas Aingeal, the sword still lying on the stone where Sir William had dropped it during the fight. Cautiously, she wrapped her hand in cloth and gracefully knelt down to pick it up, but hesitated. At the last moment she cast aside the cloth and grasped the hilt of the blade with her bare hand.

"Don't touch that!" Pacian cried out in alarm as she picked up the sword. Aiden watched cautiously as Nellise seemed to gape in awe at something only she could see, but nothing untoward happened to her. After a moment, she looked at Aiden with a strange gleam in her eye and sheathed the weapon on her hip.

"When we are done with Fairloch, I will return and finish what Sir William started," she declared softly. "The man behind all of this must be brought to justice first. Farewell for now, William. I shall return."

"Are you okay?" Pacian hesitantly asked Nellise as the rest of the group joined them.

"Of course," she replied curiously. "What did you think would happen when I picked up the sword?"

"Oh... nothing," Pacian mumbled.

"Okay, everyone join hands," Aiden instructed. The incantation seemed to involve holding an image of the place he wanted to go in his mind, and to feel it like he was actually there. The more detailed his inner vision, the more accurate the incantation would be. Picturing the deck of the ship it in his mind, he could practically smell the salt air and hear the creak of the rigging.

"Brace yourselves," Aiden said before he lost his focus. He spoke the words of power from the parchment, and moments later, the parchment crumbled to smoking ash in his hands and they were pulled to the left, as though they were falling sideways. The sensation didn't persist for long, and they suddenly found themselves on the bridge of the Redoubtable, much to the surprise of the crew.

"Good God," Captain Sherrard exclaimed in shock as he whirled around to witness their strange arrival.

"Relax, Captain, it's just us," Aiden assured him, satisfied that he'd managed to pull off the difficult reading without error. Sayana weaved about on the deck as though she were about to faint, and Pacian bolted for the rail to return his lunch to the sea.

"If you have the means, I would strongly suggest you announce your impending arrival in future," the captain advised, pointing up to the crow's nest, where two marines had their powerful, compact bows levelled at them.

"I'm sorry about the abrupt appearance, but we don't have a lot of time," Aiden apologised.

"You continue to surprise me, Mister Wainwright," Sir Denholm remarked. "I suppose I shall have to write the longboat off as a loss, but I assume you have good reason for abandoning valuable materiel. Wait, where is Sir William?"

"He didn't make it," Aiden replied with a catch in his voice. "This whole trip was a diversion, and I have good reason to believe the duke sent us here to die. We only made it out through Sir William's sacrifice."

"The duke a traitor?" Sir Denholm barked. "I should hope you have evidence to back up your claim sir, for to accuse a member of the royal court of treason is met with the most severe punishment."

"Make for Fairloch with all speed, Captain," Aiden gruffly advised. "We can tell you all about it along the way."

* * *

Aiden stood on the shore, looking at the most exquisite sunset he'd ever laid eyes on. Light cascaded across the distant clouds in hues of pink and orange, yet he felt a sadness in his heart that he couldn't quite define. A gentle breeze drifted past, teasing the sand at his feet into tiny whirlwinds that danced into the distance.

The end comes to us all, but for some, sooner than it should, a familiar, deep voice spoke in his mind. Looking to his right, Aiden saw the towering golden form of the dragon Salinder in all his glory, sitting upon his haunches and gazing out to sea. There were no signs of age or injury upon his sleek hide.

"Am I dreaming?" Aiden asked, unperturbed by the sudden appearance of the dragon.

After a fashion, Salinder replied, still staring straight ahead. Your recovery of an intact crystal sphere from Feybourne has facilitated easier communications between us. Aiden looked down at his hands and for the first time, noticed he was holding the crystalline sphere in his hands. It will come in useful in the coming days. I only wish it did not involve the death of one of my few remaining cousins.

"Vindictus was your relative," Aiden stated with a sigh as he recalled the terrible fight against the dragon in Feybourne. "I'm sorry it had to come to that. He was trying to kill us."

Long had he fought against the mortals of this world, Salinder explained. In centuries past, he was hunted by your kind for eating their cattle. He did not recognise humanity's claim upon the beasts and chose to fight back. The war consumed him until there was nothing left but hatred. Thousands of mortals perished at his behest and yet... he was my cousin, and with his demise we are now seven.

"Seven?" Aiden repeated. "There are only seven dragons left in Feydwiir?"

Technically six, as I am not of that world any longer, the dragon corrected.

"I am sorry for your loss," Aiden mouthed, uncertain what else he could say.

As I am for yours, Salinder added.

"You know about that?"

I have been watching you constantly since your recovery of that sphere. Had you taken it with you to the isle, I could have interceded and his death might have been avoidable. But what is done, is done. Aiden nodded glumly, his eyes drawn to the horizon once more.

"Did you know the sceptre didn't exist?" he asked after a short pause.

My memory is not what it used to be, Aiden. There are countless relics from times past that have faded into history, and not all were known to my kind. I knew only what you did, for my senses were limited to the sphere, which you left in your room during all of your important meetings in the castle.

"I couldn't very well walk around holding a priceless relic in everyone's face so you could see what was happening," Aiden admonished him a little more harshly than he'd intended. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."

It is of no moment. You must continue your search for a way to stop the Ironlord, or your lands will be scoured of all life. The weight of Aiden's responsibility, forgotten for a time, returned in full force at these words, though there was nothing further he could do at this point. They'd thrown all their hopes into locating the Sceptre of Oblivion, only to discover it wasn't even real.

"I will redouble my efforts to help find a way," Aiden assured the dragon, "but first, we must confront the duke and eliminate the corruption from the palace. Only then can we move forward to find a way to stop the Ironlord."

Justice must be served, Salinder agreed. It catches up with us all, in the end. Aiden nodded, and the two of them looked out to the brilliant sky over the water, listening to the waves crashing to shore and thinking of those that were no longer with them.

* * *

The mood aboard ship was as gloomy as the leaden grey sky when they dropped anchor near the harbour, before noon the next day. Captain Sherrard could not dispute the evidence present in either the tome or Sir Godfrey's journal, and his anger was like a cold thunder rolling across the sea.

"Would that I could sail directly to the castle and unleash seven kinds of hell upon this blaggard," he thundered. "I shall have to settle for speaking to him with my God-given voice, as opposed to the one offered by my ship's armament."

"We appreciate your offer to accompany us, Captain," Nellise said in an effort to placate him. "Your presence will add credibility to our claim." The cleric appeared tired and worn from a restless night, and the rest of Aiden's companions didn't look much better.

The captain signalled the shore for a longboat to be sent and once it arrived, they set off to the docks as quickly as possible. The weather was growing unsettled as the day wore on, with another heavy snowfall likely before long. It was business as usual on the docks as they disembarked from the longboat.

It was just past noon by the time Aiden and his determined comrades made their way through the streets of Fairloch, its citizens oblivious to the corruption at the heart of their government. Families hurried along the streets as the weather started to turn, mothers herding their loud children to shelter as a storm blew into town. The castle loomed above the surrounding buildings, growing larger with each passing moment, but when they came close enough to see the main gate, Aiden saw that the drawbridge had been raised, blocking all access to the main keep.

"Okay, I wasn't expecting this," he remarked softly, pondering this development as they stopped in the middle of the road. Sir Denholm took a more pragmatic approach to the problem.

"You there, why is the drawbridge raised?" he asked of a nearby city watchman.

"I don't know, sir," the portly man replied. "It went up last night and nobody has been able to figure out why. Can't get in there to ask 'em, see?"

"They would not raise the bridge unless the castle was under attack," the captain quietly remarked to Aiden, removing his plumed, wide-brim hat to run a hand through his hair. "Or perhaps, if there were some other emergency within those walls."

"This has to be connected to the duke," Pacian added. "The bastard gets us out of the way for a few days, and then moves ahead with whatever else he had planned."

"The princess is locked in there with him," Aiden warned. "He may be trying to force her cooperation. We have to get in there."

"The thing about castles is they're designed to prevent exactly that," Ronan pointed out. "Can't you do that transport spell thing again?"

"I only had one of those scrolls," Aiden lamented, then looked hopefully at Sayana. "Unless you managed to figure out how to duplicate it?"

"I was barely able to stand when you invoked that one, let alone figure out the pattern of energy," Sayana replied ruefully. "Sorry."

"Alright, so how would you get in there, if you had to?" Aiden asked the retired thief, who appeared to ponder this question for a moment.

"I'd ask her," he eventually replied, pointing to someone standing at the edge of the street not far away. Turning to look, Aiden saw the familiar face of Sparky, the raelani thief they'd first encountered with the thieves guild weeks ago. For all intents and purposes, she appeared to be a human girl of roughly ten years of age, but there was a look of deliberate cunning in her eyes that no child possessed.

"Sparky," Ronan greeted her laconically.

"'Hawk," the girl replied without pretence, her eyes darting around nervously. "Someone else in the castle is calling the shots," she explained. "There was a raid on the guild the night before last, and even though they were dressed in city watch uniforms, it wasn't the real coppers — these were some hard bastards who had no problem killing a few of us to get our cooperation."

"How did you escape?" Ronan asked.

"You know me, 'Hawk, I never get caught," Sparky replied. "It was a close call this time, I'll say that much for them. I managed to slip out in the middle of the scuffle, but anyone they didn't kill, they took into the castle right before the bridge went up."

"I don't understand what your dishonourable people have to do with all this," Valennia asked gruffly.

"Me either, though a lot of them think you're responsible, 'Hawk," Sparky continued. "Reckon you gave away their location as part of some deal with your new friends in the Watch."

"That's a bloody lie and you know it," Ronan said with uncharacteristic passion. "You're like a sister to me Simone, and the others like extended family. I'd never betray the guild."

"Our answers lie inside the castle's walls," Nellise interrupted. "Can you help us get in there?"

"Yeah I know a way," Sparky replied. "It hasn't been used in a few decades, and you're not going to like how—"

"It's through the sewers, isn't it?" Aiden sighed.

"Yeah, but it's the clean part," Sparky said with a wink.

"You're not taking the word of this street-thief are you?" Sir Denholm asked incredulously. "For all you know, she's been paid to lead you into yet another trap."

"No, I haven't," Sparky protested. "Although if I had been paid, I certainly wouldn't tell you about it, so he has a point."

"We should go to the City Watch house and rouse the local guardsmen to action," the captain suggested. "We will find a way in if we have to bring that gate down with siege weapons."

"Making a hell of a lot of noise in the process," Pacian pointed out. "Whatever they're doing in there, you're not going to stop it with a frontal assault. Sparky may be unreliable, but she's still our best bet at getting in there undetected."

"I don't like it sir, not one bit," Sir Denholm muttered. He looked to Aiden for his decision.

"We do both," he said. "Captain, get the local authorities to do what they can from out here. We're going to follow Sparky in and see if we can infiltrate the castle and lower the bridge from the inside."

"Very well, I shall meet with the Watch Commander and entreat his aid," the captain replied. "I wish you Godspeed and good fortune, ladies and gentlemen." With that, he brusquely turned and began speaking with the nearby watchman, before they quickly strode off down the road.

"This way," Sparky whispered, gesturing for them to follow her. As Aiden suspected, there was a sewer grate in the alleyway she opened up and one by one, they descended into the foul environment.

Nothing had changed from their last visit down here weeks ago, except the tunnels they walked appeared to be even older than the rest. Something unusual did catch Ronan's eye however, and Aiden winced as the sailor pointed out a decomposing body slumped against the wall of the sewers, half submerged in the water. What was more surprising was the body was wearing the torn garments of a member of the clergy.

"This man was brutally beaten before he was killed," Nellise remarked after a cursory examination. "To top it all off, he was an inquisitor. How he came to this end I do not know."

"Someone must have dropped him down a sewer grate after he lost the fight," Ronan added. "Hell of a way to go."

"Maybe he was investigating something connected to this thing with the castle, and he got in over his head?" Pacian suggested, nauseated at the stench around them. "Seems like a bit of a coincidence to come across him down here at this time."

"Maybe," Aiden hedged, having nothing better to add. "We'll find our answers further along." Sparky nodded and kept them moving, though Pacian did linger with the body for a moment longer. By the time he caught up, Sparky was pointing out that the River Aine flowed in from the eastern side of the city, so the waters near the castle were far cleaner than those on the western side of the city. These comments led Aiden to the inescapable conclusion they were about to take a swim.

"It's cold, but you'll live," Sparky remarked as the group stared down at the turbulent waters below. "It's also the only way into the castle aside from the main entrance. Just swim down a bit, then along under this wall and you'll pop out the other side, no problem."

"It looks pretty dark down there," Ronan pointed out. "I assume it's going to be pitch black on the other side."

"Probably," Sparky shrugged. Nellise took a coin out of her pouch and held in clasped between her hands. Within moments, the coin began to glow as her prayer of light took hold. She then flipped the coin into the water, where it rapidly sank to the bottom, shedding light on the surroundings.

"Nice," Pacian remarked, giving Nellise a squeeze on the backside that made her jump in surprise. Sparky didn't hesitate further, leaping into the water and swimming down through the tunnel underneath.

"She had better be right about this," Aiden groaned as he took off his breastplate. Taking their cue from him, the others also began removing their armour before taking the plunge.

"Wrap your armour up good, and I'll send back a rope to pull it through," Ronan suggested as Aiden inhaled a deep breath and jumped in. The water wasn't far above freezing and it was like being hit in the face with a cold brick. Struggling against the current, Aiden swam as hard as he could through the underground tunnel, which turned out to be a little longer than Sparky had mentioned.

Aiden burst out of the water and gasped for breath, barely able to see in the intense gloom. He reached for the side of the river and pulled himself onto the ancient stone floor, shivering from the cold. He managed to focus enough to enact his spell of light on his belt, which showed Sparky wringing out her clothes nearby. Ronan popped out of the water a moment later, and with Aiden's light showing him the way, quickly swam to safety.

Instead of dealing with his wet clothing, the sailor took out a length of rope and found a sturdy stone support to tie it around, and then dropped the other end into the river, letting the current take it back to the others.

The chamber they shivered in was dank, with mould-encrusted brick walls dripping with moisture. The faint outline of a large, filth-covered door nearby indicated the way into the bowels of the castle. Aiden might have found that turn of phrase to be amusing if he wasn't so cold.

One by one, the rest of his companions swam through the bitter waters and hauled themselves onto the narrow path beside the river, sopping wet and thoroughly miserable.

"I am utterly sick of being cold," Pacian sputtered. "When this is over, I'm parking myself in front of a fireplace for the rest of winter and I don't care if the bloody world is coming to an end."

"I'm right there with you, mate," Aiden agreed, checking the oil sack in which he carried all of his prized papers. Valennia was the last to come through and if anything, she seemed to enjoy the freezing-cold water.

"That was invigorating," she remarked as she emerged from the river like an ancient water goddess, tossing her black mane about. "It reminds me of home."

"I find I am becoming less enthused at visiting my homeland, for some reason," Sayana muttered through chattering teeth, her palms held open in front of her with a large flame dancing upon them. Valennia gave her a rare smile and began hauling on the rope.

"Let me help out, there," Aiden offered, activating his gauntlet. On a hunch, he grabbed part of the rope that was still beneath the water, allowing the troublesome device to keep cool as the two of them pulled through the heavy package of armour that was tied to the other end.

While they put their armour back on, Sparky went to work on the large door that barred their way onward. By the time Valennia was fully encased in steel once more, the raelani thief had pried the obstinate door open and beckoned them on.

Aiden led the way, his light illuminating the dank passageway which seemed to be some sort of service tunnel that had long since fallen into disuse. They wended their way through a series of connecting tunnels before arriving at a small ladder descending from the ceiling. Sparky scrambled up the rusty ladder and opened a small hatch which let out a horrid squealing noise echoing through the tunnels.

Hoping that hadn't given them away, Aiden and the rest followed Sparky up and found themselves within the castle itself. The stone here was whiter and the bricks cut larger, even if they were still in a lower part of the massive edifice. A musty smell permeated the air and there was no sign anyone had been down here in a while.

"Sparky, did you or any of the other thieves ever let on about this entrance to the assassins?" Aiden whispered to her.

"Of course not," she scoffed. "Most of the guild doesn't know either. This is a little secret between me and a couple of other good mates, all of who are in here, somewhere."

They didn't have to travel far before the distinct sounds of sobbing could be heard from up ahead, as well as some hushed conversation. Instantly on alert, Aiden signalled for the others to keep quiet and gestured for Pacian to go and take a look.

"It's the castle holding cells, or 'dungeons' if you prefer their classic term," he whispered after he returned shortly thereafter. "Only four guards there, but there has to be a few dozen people in those cells. Smells pretty bad too."

"I hate the idea of killing Kingdom guardsmen," Aiden remarked quietly.

"Well that's just it, I don't think they are," Pacian continued. "They're all armed with versions of Val's scythe, and some of their armour doesn't quite fit."

"Those cultists again?" Nellise exclaimed. "I thought we would have thinned their ranks in the battle at the Senate."

"Thinned, but not eliminated, apparently," Ronan muttered. "I'm okay with killing these guys, in case you were wondering. We should probably do this real quiet-like, in case there are more nearby. You up for some cloak and dagger, Pace?"

"Yeah... we don't have much choice, do we," he replied, surprising Aiden with his reluctance.

"Don't sound too excited," Ronan observed dryly. "Sparky, give us a hand would you?"

"Right behind you, 'Hawk," she said eagerly, drawing out a pair of knives. The three of them disappeared around the corner, forcing Aiden and the ladies to wait and wonder if everything was going to plan. The brief sounds of a scuffle could be heard a minute or so later, accompanied by gasps from the people in the cells. Fearing the worst, Aiden led the rest of his companions forward, giving up the pretence of stealth as the armoured group charged in.

The passage ended at a barred portcullis that Pacian and the two thieves had gone through. When Aiden burst onto the scene in the large chamber beyond, he saw the bodies of four guards on the floor and Sparky ominously wiping blood from her daggers on one of their torn tunics. Pacian was retching into a corner nearby, although Aiden was surprised that he had anything left to get rid of after their trip on the sea.

Across the room were the cells that held dozens of people, crowded behind the bars to watch with rekindled hope at the demise of their captors. Most of them were women, and more than a few of the men were wearing the fine clothing of court functionaries. Many of them sported black eyes and other injuries, but in the cells at the far end, a foul and familiar stench was permeating the room, and Aiden recoiled at the pile of bodies lumped unceremoniously into the cell.

"What in God's name happened here?" he exclaimed, covering his mouth at the foul stench of dozens of dead bodies.

"Get us out of this place!" one of the men cried. "The castle has been taken over by those people!"

"Calm down, we're here to help," Nellise assured them as Sparky darted over and unlocked the doors with a key she'd found on a guardsman.

"How could you betray us like this?" a dark-haired woman with fiery eyes hissed at Ronan. "These people are monsters, and you just handed us over without a care!"

"I didn't have anything to do with this!" Ronan shot back. "But I swear to you Liz, I'll find the bastard who did and make him pay. Where's Vaughn?"

"He was the first one they took upstairs," the woman named Liz replied, only slightly mollified at Ronan's assurances. "They took a lot of the men with them and never came back." The sailor cursed under his breath and stalked back and forth across the floor in anger.

"How many more of them are there?" Nellise asked the middle-aged, balding man who had spoken earlier.

"Two dozen or so," he replied, causing Aiden and the others to stare at him in disbelief. "At least, that's how many there were to begin with. I think there are more of them now, but it's been hard to tell from down here. They all sort of look the same." the court functionary added.

"They'd come down here now and then and take people at random," Liz added, distress replacing her anger. "It's not enough that they're killing us off, they have to go and torture us as well? Why are they doing this?" she moaned, breaking down uncontrollably.

"I will cut off their hands and carve my name into their chests before I gift them with death," Valennia spat with growing fury.

"I told Perry he shouldn't have made a deal with the assassins," Ronan said under his breath. "The ones we didn't kill are obviously out for revenge against the Guild." The beleaguered prisoners filed out of the cells, holding on to each other for reassurance and support as Sparky opened the doors, one by one. They had been through a lot in the past two days, and didn't appear to be in any condition to swim back through the entrance Aiden and the rest had come through.

"Alright, we're going upstairs," he instructed carefully. "Sparky, hang back and keep an eye on them, but don't start following us up unless the way is clear."

"What's the plan?" Ronan asked Aiden with a determined voice.

"We have to assume they're holding the front gate," Aiden began. "We're going to break through to the royal court and pull as many of these bastards as we can away from that area. Hopefully, Sparky can then get to the drawbridge controls and open the place so Sir Denholm can bring in the City Watch."

"You should understand that a lot of those men are wearing the plate armour of our own Royal Guard," the functionary explained. "They may look like ours, but every one of them is an imposter."

"This isn't going to be easy," Sayana whispered to Aiden. "We didn't come here expecting to face such a force." He nodded, glancing around at his tired and worn companions who had yet to recover from the physical and emotional scars they had gained in their battle against Aeldrith.

"Can you use that thing?" Aiden suggested, gesturing at the staff she held, receiving a slight nod in reply. With grim purpose, he pulled the oil sack off his shoulder and fetched out the pile of scrolls he'd taken from the Isle.

"I didn't think I'd be making use of these quite so soon," he remarked as he started reading them out, one after the other.

Chapter Twenty One

Aiden had never experienced anything quite like this before, even when he fought the akoran savages in their cave weeks ago. The strength he'd gained from the ancient scrolls he'd procured from Ferrumgaard paled in comparison with the power surging through him now.

He could practically feel the roughness of the stone walls just by looking at them. The beating of his companion's hearts was audible to his enhanced hearing, and with every step he had to resist the urge to laugh and take off down the corridor with immense speed, such was the power he felt in his body.

A spark of electricity popped off his breastplate, startling those around him in the otherwise quiet corridor.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Pacian wondered aloud, gripping the repeating crossbow tightly as he looked at Aiden.

"I doubt it," Sayana murmured in reply. "Aiden, you don't have the experience to control so much power at once. You shouldn't have used so many scrolls."

"It's a bit late to worry about that now," Aiden replied casually, unperturbed by their concerns. "Wait... do you smell that?" he added, pausing to try and pinpoint the location of the odour. It was both familiar and twisted somehow, and creeping forward, he spotted an antechamber off from the main hallway that seemed to be the source of the stench. Inside was like a charnel house, with blood on the walls and floor and strange symbols etched into the stone.

"Something awful happened here," Aiden remarked grimly, glancing at Nellise, who peered into the room with one hand over her mouth.

"The room is tainted with unclean energies," she said. "A dark ritual was held here, the nature of which I cannot explain."

"I think it's safe to say that we know what happened to the people who were taken away," Ronan added. "These bastards are into some pretty dark stuff."

"We keep moving," Valennia growled from behind her visor. "The faster we kill these men, the better for everyone."

They continued onwards, passing by several other hastily abandoned rooms. It seemed the death cult and the assassins had swept through the castle, rounding up everyone they could find and depositing them into the dungeons below. Aiden was somewhat relieved by this, for at least it meant not everyone had been killed and there would be no civilians to get in the way when the fighting started.

Presently, they ascended a staircase to what Aiden assumed was the ground floor. A large door blocked the way, yet it wasn't locked. Upon opening it Ronan saw something that made him close it part-way once more, leaving only a crack for him to peek through.

"Contact," he whispered, sending a ripple of tension through the group as they prepared themselves for what was to come. "I see six men, dressed like Royal Guard but carrying those damn scythes. They're keeping watch on the doors on the other side of the room."

"I'd prefer to make our presence known only when we get to the main gate," Aiden whispered back.

"There's too many to take silently with the three of us doing the dirty work," Pacian said in hushed tones, gesturing to Ronan and Sparky, who had just joined them. Far behind them were the beleaguered members of the thieves' guild and the court, timidly creeping along behind.

"Then we do it the other way," Valennia barked, pulling Ronan out of the way and kicking the door open. Aiden groaned inwardly and followed her through with the intention of aiding her attack, yet he wasn't fully prepared for what happened.

After activating his gauntlet, Aiden dashed past Valennia like she was standing still and found himself before three of the cultists by himself. He brought his sword down in a strike lacking any kind of finesse, its blade shimmering with augmented power and cleaving right through the plate armour protecting the warrior beneath. Blood burst out, seeming to gush from the body with incredible slowness as Aiden whirled and drove his weapon across the throat of the next surprised opponent, taking his head cleanly from his body.

When the opportunity presented itself, he plunged his sword into the chest of the closest warrior then brought his foot up to kick the body off the blade with a screech of metal from the perforated breastplate, the instantly lifeless body being throw back against the wall several yards away.

Valennia finally caught up with him, too late to provide assistance. There was nothing else for it now, for as the last of the warriors fell, the sounds of shouting and heavily armoured men moving about could be heard echoing through the castle's halls.

"Which way is the main gate from here?" Valennia asked, Nellise being the one to point the way. They burst through the next door, discarding subtlety in favour of speed and came across a magnificently appointed dining room, with tapestries and fine curtains on the walls. It also featured at least a dozen heavily armed cultists rushing in their direction, but it was Sayana's turn to even the odds. Lifting the staff taken from the ancient Aeldrith, she unleashed a storm of fire that bathed the entire room in green flame.

The cultists could be heard screaming as they burned in the conflagration. Aiden looked at Sayana with astonishment, and she returned his gaze with a calm nod, gripping the powerful staff of Aeldrith in both hands. Aiden led his companions across the smoking, charred room and followed Nellise's directions to an ornate door. Beyond it lay the main gate to the castle, and Aiden suspected the room would be heavily defended.

It was locked, so Pacian stepped up and went to work, and when he was done, attempted to peer through the keyhole. His whispered curses were very informative to Aiden, confirming that the enemy presence was substantial.

"I don't know where they all came from, but there has to be fifty of these bastards in there," he breathed. "They look like they've all set up to defend that gate."

"Fifty," Aiden repeated, looking at Sayana.

"That's a lot, even for this thing," she answered, hefting the staff.

"Which way to the throne room from here?" Aiden asked of Nellise.

"The only way to there from this location is via the main hall, which is through that door and all of those cultists," she replied, her voice tight with concern.

"We only need to get them away from the gate controls long enough for Sparky to drop the drawbridge," Aiden surmised. "Grab their attention and then pull back towards the throne room. I recall those doors are pretty solid, so we should be able to block it off while we confront the duke. We strike hard and fast, while the rest of you get to the main hall before they cut us off."

"I am ready," Valennia stated, gripping her weapon eagerly. Nellise stepped to the fore and drew Solas Aingeal, holding the holy blade with two hands while she whispered a prayer. Aiden glanced around at everyone else, noting the trepidation in their faces and then nodded to Sayana, indicating she should make the opening move.

When the sorceress was in position, Ronan opened the door and stepped aside as a powerful force rippled through the air from the staff, crashing into the nearest group of cultists and knocking them off their feet. It wasn't quite what Aiden had expected, but it was perfect for the task at hand. Summoning all of the power at his disposal, he charged into the army of steel-clad warriors.

With the element of surprise gone, Aiden was met with a wall of flashing steel right from the outset. With his gauntlet adding strength to his already impressive power, Aiden cut a line through their ranks brutal efficiency. The cultists had archers positioned further back in the room, and they shot a torrent of arrows with the Kingdom's finest longbows, taken from the castle's own armoury.

Valennia followed in his wake, keeping his flanks clear with savage efficiency. She kept up the offensive despite taking a hammering from their return strikes, barely even trying to deflect the razor-sharp blade of their foes.

Aiden's spectral armour flashed as it took the brunt of the incoming attacks before it finally collapsed, and he felt the sting of an arrow pierce his arm. More surprisingly, when the incantation failed, a crackle of electricity burst out from his breastplate, shocking the cultist that had struck him last and leaving him a smouldering corpse on the fine carpets underfoot. A dozen cultists lay by his side, but the remainder were organised and pressing the advantage of their numbers relentlessly. It was time to retreat.

"Fall back!" he roared over the din of the battle, unable to spare the time to look around and see if the others were okay. He turned off his gauntlet before it started to scald him and went defensive, focusing on deflecting the incoming attacks while carefully moving back to the huge double doors that led to the throne room. With his speed, he could actually cut the arrows out of the air with a sweep of his sword.

The doors had been opened already, and glancing around Aiden saw everyone else had pulled back within the hallway beyond. He disengaged and ran for it, easily outdistancing his foes. He hoped Sparky was able to get the drawbridge open, for without more support, they would most likely perish against the sheer number of their enemies.

Pacian and Ronan were opening up the main doors to the throne room at the other end of the passage when the rest of their group arrived, rushing through the partly-opened doors into the vast chamber beyond, and turning to slam them shut again before the host could reach it.

Aiden brought down a large plank of wood that fell into place across metal supports, and Valennia went one step further, pushing a couch and table behind the door. The loud thumping sounds they could hear on the other side indicated their enemies were attempting to break through, but they'd need something heavier than armoured fists to break in.

"Nicely done," Nellise remarked as she caught her breath, while Aiden looked around the room they had entered. Its red carpets and pennants showed they were in the correct room and at the end of the chamber sat the royal thrones, one of them empty, but the other occupied with a familiar face.

"Aiden! Thank heaven you've returned," Duke Charles Montague called, stepping out of the throne and rushing to meet them face to face. "The castle has been taken over by imposters! I have been held captive here in the throne room by those blaggards for two days now. Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"As a matter of fact, I do, Your Grace," Aiden replied in a quiet, tightly controlled voice. "These men — if they can be called that — are under your command, and you have been involved with them for months in your attempt to wrest control of the throne from the king."

"Wha...what?" the duke stammered, stopping short several yards away.

"Do not try to deny it, old man," Valennia snarled, her blood-covered visage an intimidating sight. "We have evidence, taken from the bloodied corpse of Sir Godfrey implicating you as the perpetrator!"

"And while you thought to remove our interference by sending us to the Isle of the Dead, it has proved to be your undoing," Nellise added, as cold and merciless as Aiden had ever heard her speak. "We recovered another copy of 'Ancient artifacts from Old Tymes' which makes no mention of the Sceptre of Oblivion."

"I don't understand," the duke said, continuing to appear bewildered.

"The bloody thing doesn't exist!" Pacian roared, rushing forward to grab the old man by his tunic. "You sent us out there to die, all for nothing!"

"Only through Sir William's sacrifice did we survive that blighted place, damn you," Nellise hissed. "Now you will be brought to account for your treason."

"Sir William is dead?" the duke whispered.

"Along with Sir Godfrey," Aiden added harshly. "Their blood is on your hands."

"I swear I have no idea what you're speaking of," The duke protested, struggling to keep his footing with Pacian shoving him around. "I give you my word—"

"Your word doesn't count for much at the moment," Aiden muttered. "Soon, the entire City Watch is going to be storming this place and your black-hearted associates will be eliminated or incarcerated. Give up, 'Your Grace' — it's over."

"When those men came into the castle, the Royal Guard tried to repel them but there were too many," the duke protested. "They took the castellan away and left me here, a prisoner in my own home. The princess has been kept in her room, but heaven knows what they have planned for us. I swear to you all, I have nothing to do with this treachery!"

"And what of this sceptre that you've had us running to the four corners of the Kingdom to find, hmm?" Aiden asked.

"I saw the entry in the book the castellan found, the same as you!" he choked as Pacian grew impatient. The hammering on the doors behind them continued.

"Someone forged that entry," Ronan interrupted. "It was bloody brilliant work, but it's fake. You don't strike me as the type to do your own work though, so who did you get to do it?"

"I wasn't involved, and I cannot make it any clearer than that, damn you!" the duke snapped, mustering his courage. "Only someone who had access to the book could have done it, and I didn't learn of its existence until the castellan brought it to our attention months ago!"

Aiden was about to spit back a retort when the full meaning of the duke's words sank in. A flash of insight swept through his mind as he recalled Castellan Hodges speaking of the book, and how he'd brought it to the king's attention not long before he set out on his war with Tulsone. Previous encounters with the castellan flashed through Aiden's mind, and the pieces all fell into place.

"The castellan has access to the treasury, does he not?" he asked quietly, a terrible feeling of betrayal sweeping through him.

"Of course he does, in order to conduct the daily affairs... dear God," the duke breathed, evidently coming to the same conclusion as Aiden.

"I do not understand — speak plainly!" Valennia complained.

"The castellan is behind the entire conspiracy against the Crown," Aiden explained in a low voice. "He had access to the money necessary to hire the mercenaries who attacked Culdeny, the pirates who attacked us at sea, and the assassins who assaulted the senate. He paid someone to forge the entry for the Sceptre of Oblivion, which I suppose he just made up."

"Actually, you'd be surprised how easy it is to do it yourself," Hodges said from nearby, entering the throne room from a side door. He was dressed in his usual clothing, but with the addition of a breastplate similar to the one Aiden was wearing, and a rapier strapped to his belt. "The scribing didn't have to be exact, for the duke trusts my every word."

"Well, if it isn't 'Number One'," Aiden growled in a low voice. "Or should I say number two?"

"Spare me your country boy wit, Mister Wainwright," the castellan replied tersely. "Your return from the Isle was not unanticipated, so do not think you have an advantage here." Pacian released the duke and raised his crossbow, loosing a bolt with all the speed he could muster. It clanged off an invisible barrier around the castellan and fell to the floor as more people entered behind him. Aiden held up a hand to stay Valennia from charging in, as the presence of the magical barrier gave him pause.

The castellan flashed a quick smile, and then pulled out a scroll from his belt. He unfurled it and read the words inked upon the parchment, which crumbled in his hands as the power was released. His body took on a shimmering quality as the invocation took effect. Although the exact nature of it was beyond Aiden, he knew it was something formidable.

"You're not the only one to shirk the laws of magic," he said to Aiden. "The castle has quite an extensive library, which I have made use of for this little confrontation."

A black-robed man, heavily wrapped in dark garments stepped into the room with his hands clasped before him like a monk. Aiden immediately recognised him as the leader of the cultists who had attacked the senate, the one who disappeared after Sayana had detonated the building.

Behind him came an athletic woman holding a sword and dagger in her hands, and again, Aiden recognised her straight away. Sarah Holister, leader of the assassins, who had been captured after their assault on their complex beneath the city, surveyed the group with eyes hungry for revenge. Scars and welts on her body showed she had not been treated well during her stay in the castle dungeons, and she seemed far more dangerous than the first time they had met.

Finally, the diminutive form of Perry, the deposed raelani guild master came through the door, carrying a sword that seemed almost too big for him over one shoulder. He gave Ronan a sly grin, and the sailor let out a string of curses.

"What the hell are you doing with these bastards, Perry?" he spat.

"I was looking for a new career," he explained easily, casually glancing at the sword. "You and yours are on the wrong side of history, mate — you should have stayed at sea."

"Did you have to sacrifice your mates to do it?" Ronan persisted while Aiden locked eyes with Holister.

"My dark friend here needed to bring back his followers and well, there's a price that had to be paid when raising the dead." Perry shrugged.

"What infamy is this?" the duke breathed, clearly rattled. "You have betrayed your country and your king, Malcolm. Why in God's name would you kidnap the princess and associate with these monsters?"

"I had hoped to keep Criosa hidden, rather than killing her," the castellan replied. "As the last in her royal line, I would need to marry her to become the next king of Aielund."

"But why the attack on Culdeny?" Nellise asked in dismay.

"I had no knowledge of that 'til after the fact," the castellan replied delicately. "It seems the late Ronald Bartlett had paid Commander Black an additional bonus to plunder the town for his own ends. I had only paid him to raid Bracksford in order to capture the princess.

"I had thought sending you to the Isle would have been enough to kill you. My associate here assured me that Aeldrith was still there, and would finish you off with ease." Castellan Hodges gazed at the black-robed priest with flinty eyes as he said this. "It seems we underestimated your skill."

"You are responsible for Sir Godfrey's death, as well as countless others," the duke stated, his hands shaking with rage. "You have betrayed everything you have sworn to protect!"

"It was a difficult choice to make, old friend, but it would have been far worse to stand idly by and watch our country burn in flames as the Ironlord marches to Fairloch."

"How do you know we won't be able to stop it?" Sayana asked.

"It took the last truly ancient dragon to banish it last time," Castellan Hodges explained. "My associate tells me that the creature nears death even now, and upon its demise the Ironlord will be free to walk the earth once more."

"I took it upon myself to come up with an alternative plan, one that His Majesty would never consider. As king, I will be able to save this land from destruction. It was only a pity that nobody else would understand what I was trying to achieve."

"Why do we continue to speak when we could be killing them?" Valennia growled.

"Because you want to have it all make sense, in some way," the castellan explained with a grim smile. "My research has shown that the Ironlord isn't some unthinking engine of destruction — it is quite intelligent, and I believe it can be reasoned with, something the king never accepted, no matter how hard I tried to convince him. I have always, always had the Kingdom's best interests at heart, but when nobody would listen to reason, I took measures into my own hands."

"He was still your king, sir, and the decision was his to make," the duke answered in a rasping voice. "You have gone mad, and I pity what is about to become of you." He then clutched at his chest and doubled over, gasping for breath before he toppled to the floor.

"Uncle Charlie!" a female voice called from far back in the chamber. Princess Criosa had emerged from her room clad in a simple blue dress to see the duke fall, and upon her appearance, the black robed priest had something to say.

"Since she is no longer needed, I request that she be thrown in with the others down below, Castellan," he said with a dry, robust voice. "They have proven to be such delicious entertainment," he added, looking to Valennia with a grim smile visible beneath his hood.

"Now you die!" she roared, raising the scythe this very priest had once wielded against them and charging at the robed man.

"Val, wait!" Aiden cried. The distance to the priest wasn't great, and in her rage Valennia was upon him in moments. The cultist leader watched her approach with a smile, and raised his hands when she was within a few yards. The scythe, still connected to its true owner through some dark magic, vanished from her hands and appeared in his, pointed right at her chest.

Unable to stop herself, the akoran woman ran right into the weapon, which emerged from her back, cutting through the armour with a horrid screech. Stunned and dismayed, Aiden could only watch in horror as Holister spun around and cut the mortally wounded woman's head from her neck.

Sayana screamed in anger and dismay, dropping the staff and throwing her hands together before her. Light blazed along her arms and a crackling bolt of green energy shot from her fingertips. It struck the magical barrier surrounding Castellan Hodges with a thunderous report, shattering it in a shower of blue sparks and knocking everyone in the room flat onto their backs.

The burst of magical energy was enough to snap Aiden and the others back to reality and with his magically augmented reflexes, he leaped to his feet and immediately charged. His sword was met with steel however, as Holister nimbly moved in and stopped it.

Aiden locked eyes with the assassin, the uncompromising look of hatred between them almost palpable. In that single moment, Aiden could sense powerful magic suffusing the woman and knew he was in trouble. The instant he pulled his blade back, their momentary hesitation evaporated and the two clashed in a flurry of blades and magic that sent sparks flying.

Time around them appeared to slow as Aiden focused all of his power in a series of cuts and slashes. Whatever magics the castellan had bestowed upon Holister mirrored his own, stealing his advantage and reducing him to simply trying to keep her at bay. Around them, Aiden'c companions and Holister's dark allies moved towards each other at a quarter of their normal speed, oblivious to the frenzied fight occurring in their midst.

Contained within a bubble of accelerated time, Aiden's heart pounded in his ears as he simply tried to keep up. More than once he was struck and his blood flowed as the assassin slowly whittled away at him. He utilised all of the training Kinsey had given him, trying to think further in advance to anticipate the assassin's moves before they happened.

The likelihood of assistance was slim, for he could see Nellise was busy fighting the death priest. The black-robed man raised a hand to conjure a blast of dark energy, only to be absorbed by the undying light of her holy blade. Her return stroke met the steel of his scythe, which hummed with a power that it had never shown while Valennia had wielded it. The cleric's earlier suspicions about the weapon had proven true, and it had cost the akoran' woman's life to discover that.

Thoughts of Valennia's sudden death ran through Aiden's overcharged mind and with a snarl of rage, he set aside Kinsey's finesse training and attempted to bash his way through Holister's cunning defense.

Assistance came in the form of arrows shot from high on the wall as Ronan, perched in an ideal position to attack, put an arrow right into Holister's leg. Aiden glanced up and was startled to see Perry suddenly appear through a glowing door right above him. The raelani killer began to fall through the arcane doorway and used the momentum to drive his sword down towards Ronan's unsuspecting form.

Perry's blade pierced his arm, forcing him to drop the bow and clutch at the terrible wound as the raelani grabbed hold of him and began punching him in the face with the hilt of his sword. Ronan attempted to dislodge his unwanted passenger but the little man was tenacious, driving his knee into the sailor's ribs and attempting to bring his sword in for a killing stroke.

Aiden turned his attention back to Holister as she gruesomely pulled the arrow out of her leg, right before Pacian bowled her over in a desperate charge that left both of them wrestling on the floor. Pacian's dagger flashed as he pulled it up high and seemed ready to bring the assassin's life to an abrupt end, when he hesitated. It was only for a tiny fraction of time, yet it was enough for Holister to kick Pacian off him and drive the blade towards his face, slicing him up badly and almost taking off his ear in the process.

Aiden saw his chance to finish her off and this time, he wasn't taking any chances. Activating his still-warm gauntlet, Aiden hurled himself at the assassin and brought all of his incredible strength to bear, only to shatter the flagstones where she had been but a moment earlier.

His senses were heightened by the magic he had invoked however, and he felt more than saw the assassin nearby. He rolled forward just as Holister's twin blades glanced off the back of his breastplate, then spun around and drove his blade forward. The auldsteel weapon met thin air, leaving Aiden overbalanced and vulnerable. Holister didn't press her advantage however, instead going to the aid of her dark-robed associate.

The light of Solas Aingeal swept across the robes of Nellise's opponent, cutting them away to reveal heavy metal armour underneath. Even that wasn't enough to stop the might of the holy sword that burned him even through the steel protection.

A blast of fire shot overhead when Aiden went to Nellise's aid while Sayana continued to battle the castellan. With his protective bubble destroyed, the treasonous man was throwing all of his power at her. Giant hands composed entirely of flame attempted to grab her, only to be ripped apart and used to fuel a blast of flames back at the castellan. He deflected these away with a gesture of his hand and detonated on the ceiling, showering the battle with debris.

Sayana was drawing more and more upon the energy surrounding her to power her magic. The light dimmed again and again as she sent a series of telekinetic punches at the man, knocking him half a dozen yards down the hall onto his back. Without even standing however, he pulled out a wand and invoked a storm of ice-cold winds upon the fight, engulfing even his dubious allies in the blast.

Aiden and Holister were the only ones unaffected by the freezing blast, their incantations protecting them from the elements, so Aiden went on the offensive once more. The assassin was barely able to move, but her weapons were just as deadly as before.

With a series of cuts and stabs that lacked any kind of finesse, Aiden sundered Holister's blade and followed through with a devastating punch, cracking her jaw and dropping her to the floor in a spray of blood. Wary of his opponent's resilience, Aiden didn't hesitate to bring his blade down into the assassins' chest, ending her life once and for all.

The sounds of a huge fight outside the main doors could be heard — Sir Denholm had arrived with the City Watch. It was only a matter of time until they won this fight, but their survival was still in question. Ronan suddenly slammed into the floor next to him, gripping the raelani thief tight. Perry hit the ground first and was crushed by Ronan's weight, and judging by the blood pooling on the ground, at least one of them had a weapon stuck into his body.

Bleeding from half a dozen cuts and growing weaker as his incantations flickered out of existence, Aiden was just about spent. He saw Castellan Hodges locked in a duel with Criosa, battling her old teacher with skill and daring. It wasn't enough, however, for the man was bristling with arcane power and he was outmatching her in every way.

Sayana and Nellise focused on the dark priest, who seemed to grow stronger at the fall of their comrades. He shrugged off flames and other powerful energies Sayana threw at him as if they were nothing, and Aiden feared they weren't going to last long enough for aid to arrive.

Criosa was disarmed by a masterful stroke from the castellan, tossing her rapier out of reach and forcing her to the floor at the point of his blade.

"You learned well, my dear, but did you really think you could defeat me?" he asked sadly.

"Not for a moment," she replied defiantly, "but I've still won." She quickly reached up and grabbed the point of his sword while invoking a quick, single-word incantation. A snap of electricity shot up the blade, causing the castellan to jolt and twitch. He collapsed to the floor, paralysed, and the princess was quick to take advantage of the situation.

She rolled to one side and retrieved her rapier, then rushed over to where the other two women were struggling to defeat the priest of death. While they had him distracted, Criosa crept up from behind and skewered the man with her rapier. The scene of the battle seemed to freeze in time as the stunned priest stood there, looking down at the blade in disbelief, as Criosa held it in place.

With a final surge of defiance, Nellise drove Solas Aingeal into his body as well, and the result was explosive. The life force he had been drawing in suddenly exploded outwards, vaporising his body as the blinding light was released from its prison of flesh.

The hammering on the doors grew to a fever pitch as the City Watch finally breached the barrier and poured into the room, bloodied from the fierce fighting out in the foyer. Aiden barely noticed, for his head spun more and more as the incantations he had invoked winked out of existence and the full impact of the battle made itself known upon his battered body. The last thing he remembered was Criosa's face, creased with concern as she rushed towards him.

Epilogue

Aiden's eyes cracked open and he squinted against the brilliant light for a moment, holding up a hand to shield his eyes. Details of his surroundings gradually came into focus.

He was lying in a comfortable bed in an elegantly appointed room, lit by several candles. The intensity of the light was startling, until Aiden figured out that it was his response, not the candles themselves responsible for the dizzying sensations he felt.

He slowly sat up, aware that his body was weary and bruised as he recalled the reasons why. Images of fighting for his life flashed through his mind, though it was disjointed and he had trouble making sense of it all.

Dismissing the troubling thoughts for now, he glanced around more and noticed Princess Criosa sleeping in an overstuffed chair next to the bed, curled up under warm blankets. The fireplace across the other side of the room burned low.

Criosa awakened suddenly, turning to look at Aiden as he struggled to adjust his many, many pillows. A sleepy smile spread across her face and she rubbed her eyes in a manner Aiden thought was cute.

"Good evening, sleepy," she murmured, uncoiling herself to sit up in the chair properly.

"Your Highness," Aiden replied, his voice cracking with dryness. Looking around, he saw a pitcher of water and a glass on the bedside table, so he reached over and flailed away with his arms in an attempt to pour some.

"Let me get that for you," she offered, pouring Aiden a glass and handing it to him. He clutched at it and drank it slowly.

"Thanks," he whispered, setting the glass down as Criosa sat on the bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Utterly drained," he replied after a moment's thought.

"I'm not surprised, considering how much power you had invoked," she admonished him slightly. "Sayana said you were setting fire to the carpets when you walked over them. Please promise me you'll never do that again."

"If feeling like this is the consequence, I'll never again touch any of those bloody scrolls," Aiden assured her, rubbing his temples as a headache began to surface.

"You've been asleep for over a day, now," Criosa continued. "Nellise was concerned that you might have done yourself some permanent damage and had no idea when you would awaken. It seems you've managed to pull through with only some bumps and scrapes here and there."

"A whole day?" Aiden muttered in disbelief. "What happened after the fight?"

"Captain Sir Denholm Sherrard arrived with the City Watch en masse and secured the castle," Criosa explained. "The castellan was arrested and taken into custody, and I am certain he will be put to death for his monstrous acts of treason." A note of tension entered her voice when she spoke of him, and the details of her duel resurfaced in Aiden's mind.

"Stunning him with that little incantation you cast was a cunning move on your part," he said. "He never even saw it coming."

"That was my hope, although I confess I was lucky to have everything fall into place," Criosa answered sheepishly.

"What of his associates?"

"That vile priest of death was utterly destroyed, apparently. The touch of Solas Aingeal made sure of that," the princess replied grimly. "Our spymaster, Mister Kinsey is being kept very busy chasing down the remainder of the castellan's contacts within the city. He has been surprisingly forthcoming with details of his plan, as it happens, though I do not believe his cooperation will mitigate his other crimes or his inevitable sentence. I can still scarcely believe it — the man responsible for my own kidnapping was right under our noses the entire time. In fact, I would not have accepted it had I not heard it from his own mouth."

"He very nearly succeeded," Aiden remarked, leaning his head back on the pillows. "He sent us on a fool's quest around the kingdom searching for something that didn't exist, but that we wanted to believe existed. He played upon our needs and used it for his own ends. If it wasn't for Sir William and Valennia..." He trailed off as the emotions he had suppressed at the death of a man he had come to know and respect like a second father came to the surface, compounded by the terrible demise of Valennia at the hands of that damned priest.

He started sobbing as the tiredness, death and destruction took its toll, and the young man threw his face into a pillow to let it all out. Criosa stroked his head gently, saying nothing for the next few minutes as Aiden worked through his feelings.

"So, what will we do about the Ironlord now?" she asked, withdrawing her hand in a moment of self-consciousness. "We had put all of our hopes into the sceptre being able to banish the damned thing. Without it, we have no way of stopping the Ironlord once it returns."

"We'll figure something out," Aiden assured her, resisting the urge to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to work with the faculty at the University and go over every possible measure, go through every old book and make sure we haven't missed anything." Criosa smiled wanly and nodded, barely masking her deeper fears.

A knock on the door interrupted the scene, and Criosa unconsciously moved back a little from Aiden as Ronan came in unbidden, closing the door behind him.

"I hope I'm not intruding, Your Highness," he said to Criosa.

"Not at all," she replied lightly. "My guest is finally awake, so your timing is perfect."

"You're up," Ronan confirmed with surprise. "That's good. Thought you might have slept the week away."

"I still might," Aiden said with a wan smile. Ronan came closer and reached out a hand, which he shook as firmly as he could manage. "Is this goodbye?" he asked of the sailor, who seemed to be carrying quite a lot of equipment on his back.

"For now, yeah," Ronan replied. "Thanks to everything we've done, I've been officially pardoned by the Crown for 'meritorious service.' Thanks for that, Highness, I've been trying to move on with my life for a few years and it's the clean break I need. I'll be serving with the navy for a few more years, and then my life is my own."

"You are most welcome, Ronan," Criosa replied warmly.

"Sayana wants to have a deep, meaningful talk with me about our relationship, so if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the Redoubtable. It's been both an honour and a pain in the backside Aiden. It's a damn shame about Val and William, but I can't think of a better death than fighting to protect this little jewel of civilisation we call Aielund."

"I'm partial to the idea of dying on a bed in my old age, but you might have something there," Aiden replied with a smile. "Take care of yourself, mate." He was genuinely sad to see the man leaving, but understood the reasons. To their collective surprise however, Ronan went to the window and climbed outside. The reason for this became obvious a few moments later when another knock at the door and Nellise, Sayana and Pacian came through.

Criosa excused herself, saying she had an important event to organise and left them to reunite at last. They shared stories about the exploits of Valennia and Sir William, the others almost in disbelief when Aiden finally told them about his battle with the dragon Vindictus, and how he conquered his own fears in the process.

Sayana was very distraught over Val's death, for the two of them had become as close as true sisters in their time together. In the end, the akoran warrior's simmering anger had been her undoing, leaving her susceptible to the goading of their enemies.

Of all of them, she had seemed the most unstoppable, and it was a stark reminder to them all that nothing was immortal. They had both been superb allies in their quest and would be sorely missed. Aiden grew sleepy after a time, and the others withdrew to allow him further rest.

By the end of the next day, the weary young man was feeling good enough to venture out of the room, which he discovered was actually the princess's suite. The sounds of hammering and sawing could be heard echoing along the halls as workmen went about repairing the damage done during the battle in the throne room.

Duke Charles was also up and about, although he looked as if he had aged ten years since Aiden had last seen him. The old courtier had experienced a heart attack during the confrontation, but more than that, he now carried the disappointment over the treachery of his old friend, Castellan Hodges. Nobody had gone unscathed in the events of the past few weeks, as Mister Kinsey rounded up a shadow network of spies with raid after successful raid in various places throughout the city.

On the dawn of the third day after the demise of the conspirators, Aiden was summoned to the throne room by an officious servant, who insisted he dress appropriately for the occasion. Feeling self-conscious in the ridiculous finery he was forced to wear, Aiden followed the man out to the royal court to discover a large gathering of the nobility within the large chamber.

Making his way through the crowd, Aiden found Nellise nearby, although he almost didn't recognise her in the magnificent pink flowing dress she wore. She seemed almost as uncomfortable as Aiden in her extravagant clothing and expressed a certain bewilderment at being summoned. They didn't have time to discuss the matter before horns blared at the front of the room, where the princess, resplendent in a flowing gown and wearing a modestly sized diamond tiara, rose to address the crowd.

"My Lords and Ladies, members of the royal court and representatives of the Church of Aielund, I bid you welcome to this commemoration of the men and women who fell in solemn duty to our beloved country."

"You have no doubt heard of the true nature of the plot against the Crown, perpetrated by one of our own, whose name shall never be spoken again," she continued, speaking with all the grace and majesty one would expect from the daughter of the ruler of the Kingdom. "What you may not have heard, are the names of those who gave their all to thwart the schemes that threatened the stability of our Kingdom."

"Sir Godfrey Davis, of the Order of Aielund and adjutant to the duke, perished on the Isle of the Dead, as did Sir William Bryce-Clifton, of the Order of the Rose Eagle. The sacrifice of these knights was necessitated by the lies they were told, but they went willingly to protect the Kingdom they loved."

"Closer to home, Valennia Far-Eagle, a warrior of the akoran mountain people fought with great valour and strength, but was undone by the machinations of a cult thought to have been extinguished long ago. The clergy at the Church assure me that these followers of darkness have been utterly eradicated and the castle sanctified once more."

"Finally, Archon Cedric Cain of the Holy Inquisitors died in mysterious circumstances not long before the confrontation here at the castle. He is thought to have run afoul of the miscreants plotting against us, and died in service to God and the king. His experience and zeal will be missed within the halls of the Church, but his service will always be remembered."

"There is one final order of business to attend to here," she went on. "Sir William was the last of his order, one that upheld the virtues of chivalry long after others perished through time and fate. Given recent events, these are ideals we are sorely in need of and so here, now, I will induct two new members into the Order of the Rose Eagle for their stellar conduct in the recent crisis. Would Aiden Wainwright and Nellise Sannemann step forward?"

Aiden glanced wide-eyed at Nellise, who had flushed a bright red as the attentions of the entire assembly turned to them. Dumbfounded, the two of them slowly made their way to the front as people parted before them like a wave.

Criosa smiled fondly at them as they stood awkwardly before her. Nellise curtseyed and Aiden bowed low, as was expected. The princess, her rapier resting in her hands, stepped down from the dais and walked towards them in a stately manner.

"In memory of Sir William's sacrifice, it is my great pleasure to bring you into the Order of the Rose Ealge, as a token of the Crown's gratitude and respect for your courageous conduct," she said aloud. "Do you swear to uphold the virtues and beliefs that the order stands for, and comport yourselves in a manner befitting knights of Aielund at all times? Do you swear fealty to your king, Seamus Roebec the First and his daughter, Criosa Roebec?"

"I swear," Nellise replied, her eyes misting over with fervour at the accolade.

"I swear," Aiden stated with similar conviction, still hardly able to believe this was really happening.

"Kneel," Criosa instructed, then raised her sword and tapped Aiden on each shoulder, and finally on the head. She repeated this on Nellise, then stepped back and lowered the sword.

"I dub thee Sir Aiden Wainwright and Dame Nellise Sannemann, of the Order of the Rose Eagle. Stand and be recognised." The crowd roared to life with thunderous applause as Aiden turned to face them. At the forefront of the assembly stood Sayana and Pacian, sporting wide smiles as they joined in the applause.

Sayana looked positively radiant in a bright red dress, which she wore with the awkwardness one would expect from a country girl squeezed into a formal gown. Next to her, almost lost in the crowd was Margaret Fairweather, who applauded and cheered just as much as the others and gave Aiden a quick wave when they locked eyes for a moment.

Unaccustomed to being the centre of attention, Aiden smiled at the crowd, enjoying the sight of his companions finally able to put aside their troubles for a time. Behind his relaxed veneer however, the image of an iron monster marching towards the kingdom was burned into his mind. The old dream he had endured for years could not be so easily cast aside, and if he couldn't figure out a way to eliminate the Ironlord, all of Aielund would be reduced to ash and cinders.

About the Author

Stephen L. Nowland resides in Frankston, Australia, where he spends his time creating stories, games and art to astound and entertain.

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/sln

Further information on this novel and upcoming titles can be found at his website, and you can follow his progress on Facebook and Twitter.

https://www.facebook.com/stephenlnowland

 www.stephenlnowland.com.au

@stephennowland

The Aielund Saga

Soldiers of Winter

Soldiers of Avarice

Soldiers of the Crown

Soldiers of Ruin

Soldiers of Legend

Soldiers of Tyranny

Soldiers of the Heavens

Other titles by the same author

The Ballard Trilogy

In the Wake of War

The Fortress of Gold

Upon the Ashes of Empire

