 
## Paladin

### A Legend from the Great Wood

### By A. Foster aka Annette Foster

### "This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental."
## In memory of friends, the best of times.
Table of Contents

Preface- "The Oath"

Chapter One-Far Town

Chapter Two-A Mob

Chapter Three-The Hunter and The Hunted

Chapter Four-The Tree City of Olcana

Chapter Five-The Future of Trees

Chapter Six-War

Chapter Seven-Watcher on the Hill

Chapter Eight-The Gift

Chapter Nine-Horse and Rider

Chapter Ten-Tricks and Traps

Chapter Eleven-The Comforts of Home

Chapter Twelve-Shendar My Friend

Chapter Thirteen-A Man of Dirt

Chapter Fourteen- An Evil Melody

Chapter Fifteen-Gone Swimming

Chapter sixteen-Death in the Mist

Chapter Seventeen-Qualer

Chapter Eighteen-No, My Friend

Chapter Nineteen-Kardia, the Heart

Chapter Twenty-Another Good-Bye

Sneak Peak at Armilander, the dragon

Notes and Acknowledgements

More Books by A. Foster aka Annette Foster

### Home
Preface- "The Oath"

Annon lifted his eyes from the wood grain in the table he had been mentally tracing with his eyes. He starred at Shendar directly. "I don't know why Drellin did all the things that came to pass, but I do know I will not let her death go unpunished. I will do all that I can to bring honor to her memory." Annon stood slowly. He placed his hand on his own sword. "Teach me, old man. Teach me as you did her." It too did not sound like a request, but more like a statement of what was to come.

"You are not a breed, human. This fight is not yours. You don't even come from this land. You come from across the sea. The powers of the Light reaches there as do those of the dark, but they are muted and distant. Here they are life and death. Annon, you would be playing a very, dangerous game." Shendar did not even look up from his sitting position as he responded to the man. He continued to stare down at the table. His chipped mug of tea was untouched at his elbow.

"This is not a game. Death is never a game. Drellin served the Light. Now I will serve the Light as well. Teach me, old man." This time it was a statement without a possibility of question. Annon made it very clear by his stance that further challenge was not an option. Annon had made up his mind, committed his heart and offered his soul.

"Okay then. I will respect Drellin and do as you ask. Remember you were warned." The old man lifted his eyes to meet Annon's directly this time. There were words unspoken between them that were best kept that way for now. They exchanged something unseen for the space of many beats. Talma could sense that something wonderful and terrible had happened here in this room. What that, was? Talma could not know for sure. The old man pushed back his chair and stood. As Shendar drew himself up to his full height, he seemed to grow more powerful. His weakness of emotion tangibly diminished. Shendar was no feeble old man, but a teacher, and elder. "If this is what your heart leads you to do then I will honor Drellin's memory."

Shendar held out his right hand to Annon, palm up. The fighter had no clue what was going to happen but waited. "Flesh and blood, Annon. We are all flesh and blood. The color is different, the shade, the hue, but inside? Same. There has been a war going on since the first snow. Maybe it will never end. It has roots, but that is another lesson. For now, it is about right and wrong in the land. People are hurting and dying. Drellin was part of the answer. Serving the Light is the answer." Shendar's gray eyes clouded up with visions of past victories and defeats. "Listen to my words and become one with the Light." The teacher changed form ever so slightly. His visage shifted to show a mirror of changing new and different faces. It was like he had recorded all of Arrel's history in his countenance. Shendar's robes rustled about him as if they were, alive.

Talma moved back to the small pantry and stayed close to the wall, in an effort, to be invisible. He was mesmerized, riveted to the moment, watching this new turn of events with a mixture of real hope and honest fear.

"Weapons of war and keepers of peace do not turn from the shadow. The Light of the sun that burns in the heart embraces the truth, and lives in the fire of forever." Shendar held Annon's gaze. "Do you believe?"

The 5th Prince from the Isle of Kings did not hesitate. "Yes. I believe. I will serve." Both men continued to be locked in an unseen exchange. It was a silence that allowed all present to fully, understand the enormity of the word. "Yes." Giving everything to serve something greater was a selfless act. It was the act of faith in tomorrow and the right of Light.

Finally, the old man let go. He released the fighter. Annon was still a bit unclear as to what was expected of serving, but regardless he had found worth. He had found value. Things, going the right way, his father would be proud of him yet. Shendar sat down rather heavily, and his appearance returned to the simple old teacher from a handful of minutes before. Annon remained standing for a bit longer, the old man's words still echoing in his mind. He felt different, but could not quite say how or why? Annon was sure of the divergence none the less. Finally, he too sat down. Talma who had continued to watch dared to move from his hiding place. He grabbed the little kettle from the hearth fire and freshened the old man's tea.

Home

Chapter One-Far Town

Glenfel stood near the entrance, just within the shadow of the doorway itself, to the tiny tavern. The room inside was filled with music and the sounds of many people speaking all at once. She could hear them, clearly. All of them, all at the same time! It was terribly confusing. It also made her uneasy and anxious. There were extremely strong smells emanating from the doorway. It was a strange mixture of plain, honest food, sweaty, dirt-covered townspeople, travelers, pipe smoke and slightly sour drink. It made her stomach turn, just a little. There were also other food smells. Some did not smell bad or turn her stomach but made it rumble instead.

Finally, soundlessly, Glenfel took a deep breath and pushed through the double doors.

It was dark and hard to see in many areas. Not like the night outside, but more mysterious and sinister. The lighting was terrible, and the crowd was an ocean of movement. People sitting at tables, mingled together, talking loudly all combined to make things confusing and unsettling. Two wenches were walking back and forth from customers to the kitchen. There was one rather huge man, angry and yelling about a servant or wench being too slow. A tiny man with an overly large waist, setting near the fire was playing, his instrument poorly. He was a harpist, trying to entertain but plucking a tree cat might have sounded better. No one was really listening. Glenfel was wishing she did not have to listen. All the sounds were mingled together and then separated in her head. It was disorienting.

Glenfel felt a twinge of uneasiness. It left a bad taste in her mouth. This was not a safe place. She counted ten tables in all and perhaps twenty bodies in the room. It was good to take and keep count. Obviously. The large fireplace in the central area was open on all sides. It kept the inner room warm and brought just a little extra light to the interior. It crackled and popped vigorously. It did a fairly good job. It added a faint golden glow to everything and everyone near it. The problem was that it also added a lot of extra smoke. It made the air that much thicker and hard to breathe. It was suffocating by Glenfel's standards. It could not be helped. She needed to be here.

Even with the dim light from the fire, along with the few candles on the tables here and there, the feeling of the room was a sharp contrast to the darkness outside. There had been no moon and no stars, only the winter clouds that threatened snow. Yet the weather was a welcome hazard as compared to this place.

Glenfel continued forward a few more feet, to just within the entrance of the little tavern. Her ears heard the undertone of questions nearly tangible within the foul air, but no one came forward. This was Salor Far Town, no one asked questions of strangers here. It was an unspoken rule. A rule few travelers or townsfolk dared to break. On the rare occasion, someone did decide to try, there was always bloodshed. It never went as planned, at least to date.

Adjusting swiftly to the dimmer light, Glenfel saw an empty table off to one side. It would allow her a good view of the main doors as well as the passageway back to the kitchen. Covering all the entrances and exits in one chair was an excellent idea. That was perfect. She could also keep an eye on the strange array of customers and guests of the roadhouse while she sat. There, Glenfel could wait for Shilon, better known as the Leech.

Shilon was a low-grade scavenger of everything from information to the leftover items among the dead. That is how he had acquired his name. Shilon had been caught stripping boots off of fallen shadow riders by the Teekmar, the local sheriff types, during the border skirmishes a few years back. They let him go as no one really had much pity for shadow riders, but the name stuck. Over the years the elders had used Shilon from time to time, as he was a pure blood. He could go into places and carry messages as needed. Glenfel knew the Leech had value. Funny that he was shunned by all around him, yet his "use" was important? That gave her something to consider. Having a purpose was significant, that is why she was sitting and waiting even now.

Shilon should be able to find her here quickly enough. Besides, his message had been clear and specific about this place. "The Boar." The name suited the patrons' as far as Glenfel could tell. Most were sly, ugly looking hunter types and a few greedy, dirty merchants of questionable wares. All swine of one manner or another to the runner were well represented. However, anything was better than waiting outside with the icy mist coming on again. The longer she could avoid the cold, the better. Well thinking and focusing on that, gave her small comfort.

The time passed at a snail's pace, Glenfel could almost have counted the beats of her own heart. The sound was deafening in her ears, but it was just that, in her ears. Life had become dreamlike, almost a nightmare, waiting for his arrival. Close enclosed places bothered her more then she had anticipated. "The cold outside may have been a better choice," Glenfel thought to herself.

After what felt like an hour, but was in reality only a few minutes, a hefty middle-aged woman came waddling over. Her eyes were set too close together upon her overly large, dirty face. Her mouth was small, much too petite compared to her other features. She leaned over, nearly on top of Glenfel's table and her hair feel forward in tangles. "I'm Clara, the owner's wife. What can I get for ya? Chamek?" Her smile was a yellow toothy sight, and the voice grated hard on Glenfel's ears. After no answer, Clara continued with a slight shake in her tone that seemed completely out of place for a woman of her size. "The Chamek's the best around here. It is the best drinking wine we' have."

With no more than the slightest nod from Glenfel, Clara had her answer and left to retrieve the wine. Moments later the old wench returned. She placed a dark, plain colored wine bottle and a clean heavy mug on the wood table in front of the younger woman. In one surprisingly fluid movement, she finished, spun on her back heel and moved on to her next task.

Once more left to her self, Glenfel slowly sensed something was amiss. There were just far too many people in the room. However, the feeling was more than surface anxiety. Glancing precariously about, she spotted what set her to the uneasy side. In the far corner, past the fireplace, but still within view, were three hunters. Not just any kind of hunters, these were mutant hunters. The bounty for high-end types like her, those with skills, could be large. The slave trade was in full swing in all the southern kingdoms. These men were dangerous.

They were killers of half-humans, more beasts themselves then the poor creatures they murdered or sold into slavery. "Why?" Glenfel thought to herself. Why had she not seen them before now? Alas, even here is Salor these men were dangerous. Glenfel would have to make sure she kept an eye on them, specifically. She also could not help but mumble an angry curse in Shilon's name. Why he had chosen to meet in the city, even here in Salor?, was beyond Glenfel. It was after all extremely dangerous in the best of times.

"Yes!" She berated herself. Glenfel was sure the bounty hunters knew what she was even with her hood covering most of her features. As yet they had made no outward move. Perhaps they thought to wait until the tavern cleared a bit first. That was a wise plan in general for the teekmar, if they were about, did not like fights in Salor. They would not be on her side at all, but they would not allow too much of a ruckus to take place either. It would be bad for the town. Many races came here to trade goods and services. There was no place quite like Salor anywhere else in the northern reaches. A bit further north and east lay Mayir. It was smaller and not a true comparison. Salor had a reputation, and the townsfolk meant to keep things just as they were, it was best for everyone.

Glenfel's thoughts once again turned to Shilon, the Leech. "Curse him, where was he? Why did he want to meet here? Why not on the outskirts of town, as previously arranged?" Her hand had unconsciously moved to her long knife. She released the loop that held it fast. The feel of its cold, hard metal was somewhat reassuring. It cast a shadow of stability to her ever real, frightening situation. Shilon was useful to the elders, so whatever his reason, she would comply.

A great sigh escaped her unbidden. Glenfel was tired. She found herself wishing not for the last time to be back within the Maralan Forest. She was welcome and at home there. A sudden movement at the main entrance to the tavern drew her gaze. It brought her attention back to the reality of her present situation. Tight, enclosed places made her weak, and vulnerable. Glenfel centered her thoughts on leaving.

A young human had entered through the main doors. He did not even hesitate slightly. Brazenly, in fact, he half walked, half ran straight to Glenfel's table and heavily sat down. This youths astounding arrogance puzzled her somewhat. He could not likely have been more than eighteen to twenty seasons at most. His looks were plain as stone. The clothes on his back were filthy and worn. They marked him as no more than a simple peasant. His breath came in short gasps, and he smelled of sweat even with the cold outside. He must have run here, from some considerable distance away.

Glenfel was aware that the hunters openly watched now, both the young stranger and herself. The facade of just being patrons of the same tavern was gone completely. They like Glenfel were also puzzled by this newcomer and his offensive, pretentiousness. However, no one else in the inn noticed or even seemed to care. That was a blessing. Glenfel could handle the three men. Well, if she could not, she would not live to know it. Yet at the moment, she was reasonably sure of the outcome. A mob, however, was perhaps a different matter altogether. It was a good thing that the other tavern customers were lost in their own affairs.

The tallest of the hunters met her gaze directly and sized her up with his eyes. He made no move to rise from his seat. There was an unspoken challenge held in check only by the general circumstance of the place itself. The low rumbled of people talking continued.

Perhaps the hunters did not want a direct confrontation either? Glenfel would like to think that, but she would not depend on it. Age, experience and quick, decisive action had saved her often enough. Never let your guard down was the way she lived her life. It was the safest.

Glenfel turned her attention back to the newcomer. Without the slightest trace of fear, the boy leaned over; picked up the mug Glenfel had been using and drank deeply. The dark wine ran down his chin and splattered slightly on the table. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he spoke very softly, whispered words only Glenfel could hear, "Shilon is dead. He died several hours ago. He was murdered, I am sure." He paused for a moment and took another drink. Then he continued, "It was made to look like an animal did it. There is a large group of men forming to go on a hunt. You are no longer safe here even in Salor."

The runner immediately began thinking of all the ways leading out of Salor. She regretted agreeing to be here at all. That was past. Now was the time to do something. That was way better than sitting here. The young man grasped her wrist from across the table. "I believe it was set up on purpose. No one really liked Shilon, and most would never miss him." The boy seemed personally angry. "The people here are only looking for reasons to release their hatred. The thirst for blood toward the breeds in this town is great." He took a breath. "A man named Ponar, head of the Teekmar itself is leading them. You need to understand, he has a history with your kind. The man would take any opportunity to deal out a little personal justice. They will come here soon. You must leave, and leave now!" He released her.

"Do you know if the main gates to the town have been blocked as yet?" Glenfel's voice was low and measured in response. She did not panic easy but knew it would not be a simple task to get out. Glenfel had also moved closer to peer into his eyes. He was telling the truth, of that fact she was sure.

"Yes, they have. But there is a way. I shall go with you!" The young man was no longer a child in her eyes. He stood. Before Glenfel could voice her objections to his company, he turned and started for the door. Moving swiftly behind him, they found themselves outside, together. They began walking quickly toward the stables. To Glenfel's surprise, no one had moved to stop them. Glenfel breathed a sigh that at least they were no longer within the walls of the Boar. The icy winter mist had claimed the streets with a dark, gray blanket filled with empty ghostly shapes. She found herself thankful for its cold hand and bleak, unfriendly presence. It would obscure their passing to the unwary eye.

The hunters within the tavern stopped puzzling over the reason any human would be with the creature. They exchanged a few harsh words amongst themselves and quickly recovered their weapons. All the movement between Glenfel, the kid and the hunters themselves had finally caught the attention of the other patrons. None, however, would get in any slaver's path. A hushed silence fell as the three men were watched with interest as they left. Several moments later, the low whispers and general talk resumed.

Clara smiled slightly. She was glad to see them go. The animal was one thing, but the hunters were somehow more, wrank in her mind than ten half-breeds. Not pausing to give it much more than a single thought she loaded her tray and returned to serving those still left in the place. Finally clearing the table where the mutant had sat, Clara noted there were two extra copper coins next to the empty mug. The woman stopped for a moment, glanced toward the kitchen and then slipped them into the pocket of her skirt. In a way, it did not amaze her at all that the young woman had been kind enough to leave a tip. Clara had seen all types come and go through the old tavern. The young woman may have been different, but the old wench could tell she had more class than most. Clara could not say the same about the hunters after cleaning up the mess they left behind. Quickly she moved on about her business. It really wasn't her place to judge, after all, just to do her job. So she got back to it.

Home
Chapter Two-The Mob

Approaching from the main street toward the tavern was a large mob of people. Their voices carried loudly and echoed slightly within the mist. It was a trick of the night, but the effect intensified the tangible, hatred that permeated the air. Turning, Tram the tallest and most adept of the three hunters', detected the animal and the human retreating behind the far buildings. The mob had missed them entirely. The crowd had, but he had not and would not. A sick grin danced across his scarred features. An idea struck him. The big man jumped quickly into the main-way, much to the surprise of the other two hunters, Marlo and Chalt. He yelled loudly, "The mutant escaped! The evil thing attacked me. It tried to rob and murder me. My friends tried to catch it, but it escaped. I tell you!"

One of the men in the front of the mob mounted on a large brown horse yelled back, "Where has the filth crawled off to?" His shirt had the golden Teekmar emblem emblazoned on the sleeve. There was hate in his eyes. It did not take much of an adept to recognize the sneer on his face, to know what the man had planned.

"I saw it myself. The thing is heading toward the old slave block. It probably thinks it can get around you and get out the south gate!" Tram yelled loudly and added just enough fear and loathing in his voice to fuel the throng forward. There were many loud replies and curses in general as they all, turned and moved quickly back the way they had come. The momentum of their abhorrence and disgust was near a frenzied level. If they did catch an animal tonight, any animal, Tram pitied the outcome for it, just a little perhaps.

"Why did you do that?" Chalt's voice was accusing.

"Marlo knows why. You are a fool. Chalt you are far too young." The older man shook his head from side to side. "You have not learned yet. There is so much you need to know so pay close attention. If we capture and collar that thing, we can take it to Bracar for auction. It is a hunter or tracker by the look of it. By that very nature, it will not be easy to apprehend. I believe it is skilled. The animal will bring a high price from a cleric or lord." Tram licked his lips. "Come, we must not lose them!"

Tram and the others started off at a half run in the direction he had watched his prey retreat. Tram loved the hunt and could feel his heart pound a little faster in anticipation. The harder the task the greater the reward was a rule Tram had learned at a young age. This might be his last hunt, if things went well? A welcome thought to hang on to, as the night sky full of clouds began to drizzle.

Glenfel and her new companion made it as far as the stables with no problems. An old woman, in simple peasant clothing was standing in front of the aged, building. She was holding the reins of two horses, saddled and ready. She was waiting...for them. To Glenfel's surprise, one was Shilon's own horse. The runner recognized it immediately. His name was Bota. That meant snail in common speech. Shilon had named him that after his own "Leech" name stuck. The man embraced the negative people made of his life. He turned it around to fit his own path. Bota had been given to him by the elders for services rendered. That was an honor of sorts. No gift from them was ever without a string or two however. Shilon had been useful at times. The man would be missed by some while others would be glad he was gone.

Bota was not pretty, but he was sure footed. He had a muted brown coat and a thick mane. His head was a bit larger then most other horses his size. His tail was two colors of tan. The runner walked up slowly and held out her open palm. Speaking low under her breath, she made friends. As a general rule, horses were nervous around her at times. Not all, but most. Just as she expected Bota accepted. The elders were smart. The irony of the situation was not lost on Glenfel. Riding a horse that belonged to a murdered man was tantamount to admission of guilt. Proof beyond any doubt, or at least sufficient for the teekmar if caught. Actually, in that case it would not matter anyway.

The runner was not terribly astonished at this point. Leaving Salor was appearing to be a real possibility. Lar was growing in stature by leaps and bounds in Glenfel's eyes. He not only got her out of the Boar, but had an escape already planned, and in place. Mistakenly she had thought him just a youth in the beginning, yet that was not the reality.

"This is Kell." Lar spoke very low. His tone was whisper level.

Kell smiled. The woman was past her prime and had a worn look about her features. The comforting, concerned cast to her eyes spoke volumes about her feelings this night. If she were not his real mother, than she might as well be. Glenfel could guess. The truth was exactly that. Kell had helped raise Lar with Shilon. They, Kell and Lar were not blood related, but that did not matter. Kell did not question the young man, nor saw any reason to. When he brought the mutant forward, she only glanced up into Glenfel's face. She said nothing. Kell could tell however by the boy's desperate look that things were bad. "Be careful, I will leave the small door open for your return." The old woman croaked low and then went back into the big barn. Lar and Glenfel mounted the horses in silence. There were no more words to say. They moved off together down the narrow street.

The north gate was clear. There was no sign of the townspeople, the mob. More importantly, there were no signs of the teekmar. A single guard was standing casually in front. He looked tired and a bit angry. The cold night and long hours had weighed heavily upon him. Glenfel pulled her cloak down further over her face. Lar rode straight up to the gate and raised his voice, "Gilon, open the gate." He commanded. "I have to take a message to Bracar before dawn."

"You know I can't. No one is to leave the city tonight. You better watch yourself too. They are all out looking for some animal. Sakel came by earlier and told me that I am stuck here until dawn. I have to pull double duty because of some freak of nature. No one can be spared from their little hunting party. Hey! Who's that with you anyway?" Suspicion raised his tone a notch higher in response.

"It's a friend. In fact, it is a special friend." His reply was playful. "You know the kind of friend you said we should both get to know soon. A girl, you stupid fool!" Lar's tone held a chiding note.

Lar rode his horse closer as he spoke, and moved his hand to the blade he had hidden in his tunic. There had been no time to plan, this part. There had only been time to do what was necessary. The guard had droned on until it was just too late. Suddenly Lar leaped upon the man and drove his sharp dagger deep into his chest. Removing it, Lar then wiped the blood upon the older man's breast tunic. The sorrowful look on Lar's face was clear to anyone that this had been his friend. He turned and moved swiftly now. He half ran to the guardhouse and pulled the levers that released the counterbalance. Lar then rushed out to the gate itself. He lifted the great bar out of the brackets. "Hurry up!" Lar called back to Glenfel. Her mount responded to the slightest command. She guided him through to freedom. She was clear of Salor. Lar let the bar drop, gave one last look at his dead friend on the ground and mounted his own horse. He then kicked its flanks hard. He caught up to Glenfel, and they rode on together briskly.

Lar and Glenfel both knew they had to gain time and space between them and those who would soon follow. It had been an ugly business at the gate, and Lar's stomach ached. Killing someone especially someone he cared about, had not been his intent. He only wanted to help Glenfel escape. Lar tried not to allow himself to dwell on anything but the next moment. To do anything else would make him freeze in place and want to die. Taking a life, saving a life, owing a life, his thoughts raced as they moved together down the road.

Tram, as he expected, found the north gate open and the guard slain. The mutant would spare no one to save its, own life he knew. "We are going to split up here. Marlo, take Chalt and go northeast, inland toward the hills. I'll go north." with that, Tram turned and began his long ride, without any chance for the other two to object. The dark sky overhead was still black as pitch. The smell of water was thick; it would rain or even snow shortly. Tram focused hard on the trail ahead. Time was not on his side, but he would win he told himself. This thing would be worth a lot of money. It would all be his because he was the best, he assured himself out loud. No one was listening of course, but he liked the sound of it in his own ears.

After almost two hours of riding, they slowed to stop and rest. The horses were tired and sluggish to respond. "I can not go with you any further." Lar stopped altogether and looked directly at Glenfel. His teeth chattered from time to time as he spoke. It was very cold. Even in the near complete darkness of the wood, she could see his young face clearly. It had changed much since they had left the tavern. He had grown old too fast. That was often the case when death was involved.

"Why did you help me? I do not even know you." Glenfel began. "I want to thank you. I am sure however that you did not set out on this adventure for my sake." She tried to sound reassuring. His face was so full of sadness. Killing someone, especially for the first time, was a stressful life experience. Not the kind of emotion Glenfel thought anyone needed to feel, ever. Glenfel silently prayed that he would not have to make it a habit. The pressures of these lands swallowed up the weak and made them stronger or made them dead.

"You are right. I do not care that you are mutant or half- breed. It was never about you personally." His eyes glazed up just a bit. "You see my father was Shilon. Yeah, the man everyone called the Leech. He was not my real father you understand, but he cared for me for the last eight years of my life. He saved me." Lar took in a deep breath and continued, "I had been abandoned in the ruins, west of here. It was his wish you would be free. He said you helped him once and I return that to you." Lar did not wait for her to reply. He merely turned his horse and was gone. Lar was headed back toward Salor. He had discharged a burden. The runner was just left there in the darkness. The young man had confirmed what she already guessed. There had been a debt of honor involved.

Glenfel sat quietly on the horse. She watched him go. The mist soon swallowed him up into the night like a great beast consuming its prey. Continuing on from here would be hazardous. The wild country rapidly became rougher and the hills even steeper. Glenfel could lead the horse but thought rest a better course for the moment. Glenfel dismounted and led the animal forward into the trees and then into a small clearing. She sat down on a large rock. Without fire or the will or wish to build one, Glenfel was all, alone once again.

Home

Chapter Three-The Hunter and Hunted

The cold began its artfully cruel freezing of her body. After a short rest, Glenfel half-heartedly rose, grabbed her horse's reins and started walking again. The dark cloudy sky above still threatened foul weather and erased all possibility of a warmer morning. It would remain icy. Glenfel could tell she was being hunted too. It was not the mob from the town she was sure. They would give up once the guard was found. A bounty would be placed on her head for that man's murder, of course. The Teekmar kept the peace within the walls of Salor but rarely cared to venture into the outlands. That referring to anywhere they could not see their own city gates. They would rely on other means and stay safe within their ramparts. Also, the cold night would only be an additional incentive for them not to follow. It was the hunters. There was an inner sense of knowing just that one deadly fact.

"There will be no help from the humans until the dark threat comes knocking on their own front door." Glenfel's voice seemed far away to her own ears. Talking to yourself, in the predawn hours, in a deep cold forest was not a good sign. Talking to Snail, was not much better. She would have given up long ago on the whole idea of bothering if it had not been for her teacher and the council. "Thel, I tried, but there is still no magic. Miracles are not real, just dreams." She mumbled softly to no one but the air itself, as she walked on. The magic she was referring to was simply true understanding. Setting aside hatred to bond together against a common enemy? That would be a real miracle. It would take an act of the Light to make that happen. She led Bota at this point as they were both tired.

Walking was relaxing. It was good to have the mount if needed, but the physical movement helped keep her body warm. Slowly her mind wandered. A memory...Glenfel could still see the old man, Thel. Seven foot high, he was extremely tall for a human. The teacher was by fate, intimidating. According to all accounts he was a true blood, and typical for his family line. In her reminiscence, the giant was standing over her, challenging her to recite the ancient stories again and again. It had been all about praising the past and the power of the Light. Glenfel had not fully appreciated the task at the time. She knew the importance of learning Arrel's history, but the tedious repetition had been grueling. Now, as she walked, in the wild country alone, going over the lessons felt soothing.

Her mind and body felt numb, yet Glenfel steeled herself to survive the here and now. The rest of the day and all her tomorrows would take care of themselves soon enough. Memory was her only conciliate and her only retreat. Thel had been a harsh teacher, but at times having boundaries felt necessary. Odd that it also felt comforting?

Moving slower now, Tram felt a growing, excitement deep inside for the hunt. It was a hunger. A metal taste in his mouth brought back a flash of his first kill. He loved this life from the very start. Hunting, tracking, enslaving and even killing at times was all in a days vocation. Tram made high friends in high places too. The hunter had a reputation, or at least he thought he did. This runner, this animal, would be his retirement. That was worth a little effort. The evil man grinned.

The slaver had passed the younger human earlier on, that same morning. He would not have killed the boy had he only spoken of the mutant's destination. "Stubborn young fool!" He thought out loud. "Well, better not to have too many witnesses anyway. After all, this could turn into a hide hunt easy enough." The evil man also figured that if questioned he could just blame the runner for the boy's demise. No big deal. It was all in a days work.

A hide hut was a term that defined killing dangerous creatures for an important reason, like justice for a wrong. Since it had killed the man at the gate in Salor, Tram could gain a reward just for its body from the teekmar. So dead was okay. Alive was better and worth much more. Although he doubted even the big fellow that had been so adamant about capturing her inside of Salor, would remain constant outside. Like any bully they feel strong in their own environment. But the veracity of their authority is often much different. The animal would never have been caught by that mob, then or now. They just did not have what it would take.

On the other hand, Tram had tasted killing, for sport more than once. Rich, city dwellers, and kings paid for such entertainment. In that case, it was still a hide hunt, valid reasons were in reality unnecessary. That made the hunter smile all the wider. No one ever questioned his actions to closely. No need too. Runners were not humans. They were all "less than". That made them a commodity. Tram loved money and being rich was his primary goal.

The hunter wandered on in the direction his experienced abilities guided him to follow. However, the man had found no obvious tracks since the clearing where the boy must have left the creature. The thing was good, very good at leaving little behind. Tram was good too and kept moving. "Yes, this one will be worth much on the auction block. She is definitely trained. Perhaps she may even be a guardians' runner? Taught by the forest elders? this one might be worth more than I estimated." His voice was low and thoughtful, keeping busy all the time counting his future pile of gold. Maybe it should have concerned him that he had sent his partners on a separate path? Yet, the slaver dismissed the fleeting regret. He could handle this. They would slow him down and trip him up.

It had been obvious to the big hunter, that Chalt was extremely green. He had joined Marlo and himself a few months back. The younger man was a roughyin, born in Bracar that wanted a bit of excitement and a quick road to money. That equaled going north and joining their band. Well, joining Marlo, his distant cousin three times removed. "Family?" Tram could not decide if that was a good thing or bad? He had reserved feelings on both sides. His life did not have room for such things. Maybe later, when he could buy a wife? Perhaps. Tram's primary thought had been to let Marlo train the younger man. That was okay with him, but he was not going to invest his knowledge and experience in teaching a newbie the ropes. If Marlo succeeded in dragging the boy through a few battles and he lived, then they both might be worth having around. Until then, the veteran slaver was feeling pretty good about the day.

Marlo knew the way Tram worked. It was harsh perhaps for colleagues. But in the cold country, if you could not count on your partner in a storm, they were valueless. Better to be without. Marlo knew what Tram was doing by leaving them. He had been friends a long time with the older slaver. The saving verity, Marlo had way more patience then Tram and would rise to the task. However, some small part of the younger man's heart had felt a pang of abandonment. That was uncomfortable and somehow sad. Marlo was not going to let that grow. Funny, in one action all they had gone through in their time together, meant less? The simple man shrugged that off. Thinking was not valuable if it led to bad ends. Actions were better, and more positive. Marlo would see Tram again. They were friends. He found he agreed with the otherwise silent assessment of Chalt they both shared. The city boy was a liability at the moment. It was going to take effort to change that.

It was still an hour or so before dawn when the rain began to fall in sheets. It had been sprinkling slightly, but without notice all was different. The sky opened and let loose. The animal path Glenfel had been using turned from mud to a series of deeper puddles strung together. Small streams crisscrossed her trail. The cold was intense, but Glenfel trudged on. The sick sucking sound of the muck grabbing at her feet with every step she took pushed her closer to total collapse. The poor horse was not much better. Twice since she had left Lar, Glenfel had passed large parties of "charn", rat-men. Once, that would have been a rare sight for being so far south. Now she feared it was far too familiar. "The humans would be part of the battle to come whether they wanted to be or not." Glenfel wanted to laugh. It would not have been a good sound. Irony was often unpleasant and even painful.

Finally, Glenfel had gained the relative safety of the lower hills. She stopped midmorning for a short while to catch her breath and let the horse rest. The rain let up a little. Not having anything to eat for several days had left her with a keen awareness of the empty place in her middle. Her body was on the verge of shutting down. She had a severe case of the shakes. The rain eased further, but the path had grown into a small ever-flowing stream rather than a road home.

Mud caked the outside of her boots. Glenfel thought about walking on higher ground, but the water worked to hide her passing well enough. The great pine trees were a welcome sight to her, the further she traveled north. "Home" She whispered to the wind. Well, it was home to her. Ignoring the hunger pangs that made themselves more intense with each hours passing she plodded on. The deep woods of the north, the trees of the Maralan Forest had a calming effect on her heart.

The rain seemed never to let up. Tram, now on his sixth day out from Salor Far Town, had seen no sign of the animal. Something inside would not let him stop looking. He knew he must be close. He could not pass up the riches the creature would bring him on the block, not because of a little rain! Hardening his reserve, he continued on with only the ever, growing seed of his greed to sustain him. There had been many other tracks, however. The rat-men and shadow riders were everywhere. It was not hard to hide from them as it seemed they were not hunting but predisposed to some higher plan. What that was he did not know and really did not care. In the back of his mind, this worried him a little, but he dismissed it in place of his ultimate desire, "The Breed". Being rich would suit Tram just fine.

Eight days had come and gone for Tram. The valley he had traveled into seemed endless. Finally, he decided to turn southward, to try and find a passage through the now present mountain range. He had never traveled this far north. More and more he spotted larger groups of charn, the rat men running in packs. It was clear their forces had combined to create a single unit. Each time he thought of going back the way he had come, without his prize he became angrier. He would have to admit defeat to take that path. It was not going to happen. He knew he was far too close. He could feel her. In the last couple of days, he had even seen a few signs. They were not easy to spot, but he was skilled. She was good, but he was better, of that he was confident.

Morning came far too early for Glenfel. Half the night she had spent watching dozens of charn wander in packs. There seemed to be some kind of strategy to their movements, yet their goal eluded her. Rolling out of hiding she called to her horse. A few moments later it trotted to her side from out of the deep, brush. She mounted and set off again, slowly. The feeling was heavy this day. The hunter was quite near, but nothing could be done. She almost wished to stop and wait for him but she carried news for the elves and time was passing her now. The number of days had run together until she was unsure of their true count. Hide, watch, sleep as she could, rest when possible and then move again. The cycle was tedious and warring, but she had gained many leagues distance from Salor Far Town. Glenfel was also hungry. She had found very little to correct that problem. It would be good to be home, soon. The young woman focused on that.

Looking, seeking and finding the traps the charn and shadow riders had set for unwary travelers had been second nature to her. Glenfel felt the growing excitement of the journey's end with each step north. By late afternoon she had made the rise at the edge of the true, Maralan. She could see the great, stand of trees in the distance from the small hillock. "Home", if it was still there, was just on the other side. It was a matter of a handful of days to go. Because of her mutant heritage home was more a geographic area on the old maps rather than a real house in the woods. However, there were people there like herself. Most were weaker in abilities by comparison, but all shared the label, "runner". They needed to be protected. The mere fact that she was stronger was obviously enough to morally compel her. It was the reason she had agreed to take this trek in the first place. The connections, and memories of her whole life as one of them, even distantly, had found worth. They gave Glenfel purpose when she had none. All of the rest had been and continued to be about responsibility. Thel, her teacher was also all about obligation and a sense of duty. It had been ingrained, down to her core. The only confusing part was her small place in the grand design?

Glenfel watched a long while in silence. In the end she thought it would be best to wait for nightfall to continue. She noiselessly moved off the hillock into the lower wood. Quietly the runner retraced her steps to Bota. "My friend, we will remain here for a while." She patted the horse gently on the neck. Then she gathered up his reigns and retreated into the thicker bushes and trees. Soon they settled down together.

Tram was tired and close to admitting to himself that he had lost his prey. That would be hard, but he had long since found himself surrounded by forests he had never traveled in. There was a dark feeling about the place, coupled with the shadow riders and charn; even the hunter was being forced to accept the apparent. At this point, he had only to decide which way was the best route to take back to Salor? Somehow he had gotten turned around. That thought killed him the most. "Lost?" that was hard to believe. She had won? That would be tough enough to swallow, but to be "lost" that was impossible!

Tram kept his mount moving. He occasionally swore, under his breath. The sky was dark and stormy still. It was somewhere late afternoon, but the man could hardly tell. The cycle of rain and more rain had worn Tram down. He knew to stop now brought its, own dangers. As long as he could see it was better to keep trying. Landmarks, if he could find any, would be easier to define in the grey gloom then hidden in the night. If he could just work out one familiar sight that could lead him back to the right path? than all would be well enough.

The charn converged on the big hunter without warning from both sides of the path. Tram's horse bolted before he realized what had happened. It was a combination of the weather and being tired, they had been able to trap him. He could see the wire strung across the path before him, but there was no way to stop the horse. It sliced straight through the poor beast's neck like butter. The animal collapsed and in doing so threw Tram sprawling forward. He had missed the quick death of the wire himself, but that was not the end of it.

Charn, were good at some traps. Tram fell forward and saw the pit only an instant before he passed into the yawning darkness. This was not charn, by themselves? This was something vastly different. He desperately flailed out and caught the side with one hand. Pain shot through his arm from the strain. Maybe it was broken? it did not matter. Tram dared not let go. Looking down he could just see the spears embedded into the bottom at floor level. "No charn did this." Tram's mind screamed! He tried grabbing the edge with his other hand. He missed. His first handhold then slipped, and Tram dropped straight down onto the sharp points below. Still alive he could hear the rat-men screeching with delight as they fell upon the carcass of his horse. The pain gradually took him into unconsciousness.

The screams were intense and very close by. Glenfel knew that the rat-men had attacked something. By the sound of it, they were winning or had won already. She started to remain hidden, "What was this to her?" Glenfel asked inside. The nagging feeling that always got her into more trouble then she needed was growing. She whispered low into her horse's ear to stay put. Then quietly the runner crept out of hiding and drew closer to the chaos.

The clearing had six charn, rat-men feasting on a big, dark gray horse. Well, they were actually feasting on what was left of it. She recognized the animal as the hunter's mount. It had to be because she could see the slaver's medallions on the saddle. It was known among the runners that evil men not only killed for sport, but kept track. The little silver medallions, tiny skulls along the saddle line, were awards. They were killing markers to show past deeds. Again, Glenfel pondered, why bother?

Part of Glenfel started to turn and leave and part refused. The smell was bad. It was not the charn but something even more, dark and dangerous. She searched the small clearing with her eyes. It was not much more extensive than the path itself. Glenfel noted the pit. It was still partially concealed with branches, but the smell alone told her what was there. A dark memory rose up in her mind. She had been there before. Well, at least a pit similar to this one anyway. It had happened when she was young. If it had not been for the strange wanderer, a runner like herself Glenfel would have perished. Her hero had not even given her his name, but she would not forget his looks. He had been half-lizard, half man and too far from home by the look of his armor and clothing. Yet that stranger had risked all to save someone he did not even know. Could she do less?

It would have to be quick. If Glenfel let even one of the charn escape it, would be bad. They would be back in larger numbers. Glenfel retrieved a bow and small quiver of arrows from the horse. The first three charn were bloody and lifeless on the ground by the still steaming remains of the carcass before any had realized they were under attack. The next two died abruptly with throwing knives protruding from their chests. She had dropped the bow and arrow in one fluid motion and thrown the deadly blades. However, that was it. Now it was just up to her and the last of the charn. It was both smart and fast. In a beat, it had sized up the fate of its friends and turned to run for its life.

Speed and distance were a tricky combination. In the open Glenfel would not have had a chance. However, this was her country. The rage that her kind knew deep within was unleashed, and Glenfel leaped from cover to catch it. She tackled it hard and her actions threw them both to the ground in a mass of muscle and body. It flailed with its sharp claws and caught her on the right side. The pain came in waves, sharp and draining. The things, teeth snapped at her, only inches from her face. They rolled over and over together, closer to the pit. Gathering her breath, she forced her legs up into its belly and pushed hard. It flew back, up and over the dead horse. It did not land on solid ground but on what was left of the branches that had hidden the pit in the first place. They cracked, broke and gave way all at once. The charn gave out a sudden short cry and then it died. She rose, and half stumbled half walked to the edge. Its body lay below impelled upon several of the sharp wood spears.

The runner closed her eyes, and her ears fanned forward. She appeared a bit more reptilian now herself. The cape she usually wore to hide her appearance had fallen away. Focused and dead still, she took a long, slow breath. "Yes," she spoke out loud to no one. In fact, she was focusing on the man below. The hunter was still alive Glenfel confirmed. She could hear him breathing with great labor. He lay dying in the darkness. Opening her eyes, Glenfel concentrated on the blackness in the pit. Slowly her eyes adjusted. She picked the man out clearly. Glenfel's eyes were one of her greatest strengths. They were black, completely black to look at. There were also very tiny sparkles, golden flecks around the edges, which allowed her to see things others missed. They were hardly noticeable unless you stared close and long into her face. Few did that.

Glenfel's ears were more than unusual in shape. She could hear things at a great distance away. That is why she had hated the tavern. There was too much noise in one place. The forest, her home, was different. She pursed her lips tightly together and whistled low. The horse trotted forward into the clearing answering her. She retrieved her rope from the saddle and tied one end off to the riding horn and then grasped the other end tightly. Glenfel chided herself softly. She gave a short smirk of a laugh and stepped over the edge. The bottom was only twenty feet or so straight down. Not far, but far enough to make escape difficult if not impossible without help. If she had not decided to intervene the man would have had no chance at all.

The woman lowered herself down quickly, let the rope hang and carefully worked her way over to the hunter. The stench of the pit was incredible. She avoided touching any of the spears as she could. There was no telling what unseen dangers were also present in this terrible place.

Glenfel was at the man's side in only moments. His breath was shallow, but he was alive. Gathering the remains of her strength, she took out her long knife and sawed the shaft that held him in place, until the man was free. The spear had pierced deeply into his shoulder. She would leave that part in for now. Perhaps he would not bleed to death. Funny Glenfel half thought, if she were not a mutant, he would die here. The man was large. Glenfel was not. She knew she would never have been able to accomplish the task at hand if not for her bloodlines. The other half of the story was that if she, were not who she was? He would not be here. Ignoring the pain from the charn's attack, she tied the rope around his waist. Her own side throbbed.

Glenfel could probably climb out of this pit by herself, but that would be on a very, good day. The task of fighting the charn and freeing the hunter from the stakes had taken their toll on her. Glenfel figured that she could merely climb the rope first. Once out, Bota could pull the man up. That would save her from the heavy lifting anyway.

A sick sound, a bad sound, preceded the event. Glenfel heard it. It was far away, but moving fast in her direction. The thing was coming. It was coming! A warning screamed in her mind. Pulling her knife from her belt again, she crouched to make ready for the new threat. A low whistle to her mount above was enough. The hunter slowly began rising upward, pulled to safety by the animal. It was ironic that she would be trapped here instead of him, but this was repayment. It was repayment for a debt owed from another time. All the years she had lived since her first close encounter with a similar beast were a gift. If she was meant to live beyond this next encounter, then so be it. If not it would be a costly fight for her aggressor.

The monster stepped out into the pit from a darker opening nearly hidden in the side of the far, dirt wall. Glenfel could see its outlined figure, huge and bent over. The beast looked right at her. It was obviously able to see clearly in the near dark. It had wide, green eyes that measured the new enemy swiftly. A bad odor came from its gapping mouth, and a dead smell was growing the closer it approached. Glenfel could not believe the smell in the pit could get worse? But it did. The horrific, smothering odor threatened to overpower the woman with a racking cough. Tears filled the runner's eyes from the sick vapors the thing's body oozed. She gathered her wits and will together. Glenfel would not and could not allow this monster to win.

It was some kind of troll. That would make it hard to fight even under good, circumstances. Trolls were tough. Tough and strong, like the dirt and stones they lived among. Its arms were long and covered with coarse black hair. Its mouth gleamed with bright, yellow, long sharp teeth easily seen as it snarled menacingly in her direction. It was stupid by all historic accounts of trolls in the north. Yet on the other hand, understanding that its food was slowly leaving up the wall on a rope? Well that did not take much sense, to comprehend.

This match could kill her. The troll hesitated slightly as it noted the still body of the charn. The problem was that even slow-witted, it knew that Glenfel was a threat. It refocused its attention back on the runner. Cautiously it advanced in her direction. Gathering her strength, she prepared for the worst. Glenfel was about to attack when an arrow of fire sailed down from above. It struck the troll, straight into its huge chest with a resounding "thump". The thing screamed in pain. The resonance was deafening. A rope dropped down beside Glenfel, and a voice called to her, "Hurry!"

Not waiting to ask questions, she grasped the rope tightly and began to climb as if her life depended on it, and it did. The beast in the pit continued its wail's as the flames burned its flesh. It roared and charged blindly at Glenfel in a full, rage, but she had already gone. The runner scrambled over the edge at the top, desperately. She was out! The woman rolled onto the wet, muddy ground and looked up. The runner now found herself starring into the eyes of a full patrol of elves. This could go either way, so it was their move. Chances were likely they would not kill her. After all they just saved her life? That was a good sign. Right? That was at least a hopeful thought. The alternative was the pit. Compared to that, anything was literally, "up" from there.

The tall wood elf nearest Glenfel looked down skeptically. He was sizing her up. In a way it reminded the runner of how the troll had done the same thing. Maybe trolls were smarter than reported? "You are Glenfel?" His voice was crisp and clear. It held a sense of great power and command. There was no warmth at all. It was a deadly question if answered wrong to the wrong person. His clothing was that of the Omara. That meant he was one of the higher, ranking among the elf bands. The Omara were tough and known as protectors. Glenfel understood it to be similar to the Paladins of Light. In the old stories that Thel made her memories a few of the ranking Omara had been chosen to serve the Light. It was long ago. Now? The people, most people, only served themselves.

Glenfel noted the man had signs and symbols of honor sewn into his sleeves and cuffs. The deep green tunic he wore was laced with pure nithrelt threads. That meant he was either of royal lines or cherished for services to his people. The runner also noted the man had very pale skin. He was nearly albino in color, yet he was handsome. His sharp, blue eyes glared hard at every inch of her very being.

Five foot, six inches and covered in muck, Glenfel just lay there looking up at him. Her riding clothes were filthy. She was tired, beyond exhausted and for some reason felt like laughing. Glenfel thought better of it and stayed very serious. It was better that way as the sound of her laughter might lead in fact to hysteria. Was this day ever going to end? Glenfel asked herself silently. The clouds above were dark, it was growing ever later in the evening. She could not remember the last time she had eaten, but instead found herself strangely thrilled simply to be alive and not a troll's dinner.

"Yes." Glenfel stammered back nearly completely out of breath. She had seen him before, this important elf. At least he looked familiar. She could not place when or where that had been. Only that she had. The beast below had quit screaming. It died slowly now, moaning almost pitifully. Glenfel felt a tinge of sorrow. Everything had to die eventually. An arrow wound was bad enough but death by fire also, was a far harder way to go.

"Porel, put that to rest." The important elf commander gestured toward the pit with a slight wave of his hand. A young elf near him leaped down from his own mount. He quickly retrieved his bow and arrow from the side saddle, moved to the edge of the black hole and aimed into the pit. A moment later the sounds of life were gone. Glenfel was glad it was dead but knew it could have gone far differently without their help. "I am Tratha." The leader resumed speaking to her. "I was sent to find you and escort you to Olcana, the City of Trees. Are you hurt? Do you require assistance?" His tone was far from kind, but flat and empty. Tratha was here to do a job and nothing more. Glenfel could feel his eyes exploring the multitude of stains across her clothing. Most were mud, but the growing black circle at her side was blood. This man would help because he had too, that was plain, but helping her out of the pit was enough. She would handle her own wounds or personal scars of battle. It was easy to understand he was not on this errand by choice. It had to be the elders. They along with the council would want to know the results of her journey.

Glenfel sat up a little straighter and looked about. She saw the hunter still unconscious upon the ground nearby. The rope was still around his waist, and her horse stood close. "No, I will be fine. I can ride for now. I want the human brought with us." She gestured toward the hunter. She had not risked her life to have him left here to die in this clearing.

Tratha looked over at the inert man sprawled in the mud with disgust. Thankfully he did not ask her why? As she was not sure, she knew herself. He made a slight sign with his right hand. Two of the other elves dropped from their mounts and immediately began to rig a carrier. "Now, will you come?" His impatience was obvious.

"Yes." Glenfel stood. The rain had started again. It was just a sprinkling but the night ahead promised more to come. That was better for avoiding enemies, but not helpful to the runner. It had already left her soaked to the bone...chilled. She brushed the dirt and mud from her clothes as best she could. The consistent pain from living in extreme weather all the time was returning to her limbs. If there were a way to go south, Glenfel would have long since left the mountains. But alas, they hunted her "kind" even more aggressively down there. She would never know any peace at all. So the north was home. Cold or not, it was home.

Glenfel walked to her horse trying to hide favoring her wound out of pride or spite. Weakness was not tolerated in this part of the world. She pulled a flask from the saddle and drank deeply until it was empty. The wine was warm and had the calming effect Glenfel needed. Her body ached all over from head to foot. The shakes had returned with a vengeance. They had been brought on by the many prior days' lack of food and then now the adrenalin rush, having faced the troll. Glenfel could finally take a moment and divert her attention to the gouge in her side. She was bleeding more than she had initially thought. Quickly she doused her wound in clean water from a canteen and tried not to wince at the pain. Then treated and dressed it as best she could, considering, her circumstance.

Tratha stood by scrutinizing Glenfel's every move. She would not give him the pleasure of knowing how weak she really was at this point. The runner mounted her horse and waited. The two elves made a simple carrier in almost no time at all. They hooked it on to the back of the young elf's horse that had killed the troll. Then together they picked up the man and to her surprise very gently placed him onto it. One elf even took the extra effort to force some water down the human's throat and clean his wound. That one was Porel. Glenfel thought that he was very young indeed. He had not learned to hate as yet. That meant there was still hope. Glenfel liked to dwell on that.

All the time, Tratha still watched only her. Finally, they were all mounted and ready to go. The commander gave her one last, somewhat unfriendly glare, but too her surprise suddenly softened. He reached into his own saddlebag and tossed the woman a small wrapped package. Then he turned his horse and kicked it lightly toward the trail ahead before she could say a word or ask a question. Glenfel opened it quickly to find a handful of small pod cakes and a few strips of dried meat. It was one thing to save her life because he had been told too. The forest laws were funny, however. If a stranger feeds you, he accepts you as a companion. There had just been an important connection between them. He had given, and she had accepted, however unwittingly.

As Glenfel's horse moved to follow Tratha in line with the others, the pain nearly blurred her vision completely. A few beats passed and it cleared once again to tolerable levels. The problem, however, was that it was all going to get worse before it would get better. Glenfel was sure of that. There was even the chance that her wound was poisoned. Trolls were dirty by nature. Little could be done until they had all reached their destination. Onward they rode into the trees, and the small group soon disappeared completely as there kind blended well with the surroundings.

To Glenfel's knowledge, Olcana was not too far. It was a small matter of a few days ride. Those days would come to seem like an eternity before the end. Something about Tratha told her to stop or delay in any fashion for her own problems, would not be taken well. After all, in his mind, he had saved her life. By forest law, she was now obligated to him. That is to say, even if that part of his task had been at the behest of the elders or even the council it did not matter. The law was clear. That obligation could go badly if she was not careful. Elves were a funny lot. They had rules that guided their lives in nearly every facet, often to the extreme.

Mutants and half breeds, in general, were accepted or rather tolerated for their usefulness. Glenfel glanced back over her shoulder often. She could see the rider and the horse that pulled the carrier. They were keeping up with the group, but the ride could not be easy for the human. Glenfel thought at least he was alive. That was always preferable to becoming the main course dinner of a ground troll. It was late now and the darkness of night was a welcome cloak to her thoughts and fears. The rain continued. The promise of snow was ever possible.

Home

Chapter Four-The Tree City of Olcana

The incredible Eleven City, "Olcana" lay far below them in the deep Toleer Valley, shrouded in cold mist. That is to say, that is where the majestic trees grew anyway. Olcana itself was built into their enormous, branches. The elves made their home not in the woods, but as part of the woods. It was a giant spider web of connected twisted vines, woven into family dwellings, meetings places, markets and other needed areas for the community. The structures, separately and together were, an incredible work of art and engineering, only barely seen due to the weather and distance. If it were not for Glenfel's extremely exceptional vision, the awe inspiring beauty would have been missed completely. That of course was the point. The camouflage affect helped with the safety of her people. Yet, a hidden city, at one with the land was nothing less than inspiring on a greater scale. Glenfel wondered what that would be like, if others thought as the elves?

The group had halted in a clearing upon the ridge called Rigmar Ta Arrel. In common tongue, that meant, "Rim of the World." On extremely rare days when the clouds and storms were all gone, the view from this high point accurately conveyed its "name's" grandeur. Not, this day however. For nearly all present, it appeared simply black and starless. Deep snow clouds covered much of the sky. The sun was passing above unseen and the night was growing. Yet still, if you knew where and how to look, Olcana was there. Right there! Incredible!

Glenfel felt light headed and nauseous. The wound in her side caused by the troll had quit bleeding some time ago. It never stopped hurting. However, the lack of food, rest and even the loss of blood from that injury had weakened her badly. Glenfel tried not to think on it. Up until now, she had stayed in her saddle out of sheer will. To do otherwise would be to admit being less than "them". What expectations they had of her, were unknown? Being a burden could go badly.

There had been few stops along their path to the grand city. Nights were spent moving forward. Often Glenfel had to trust the rider and horse before her to know the way and let her own horse simply follow. The days had been much the same, only slower, spent riding cautiously, avoiding scouts and even packs of rat-men. There were many, far too many charn and barbarians. Yes, barbarians. They were the new enemy. From where they came from, no one knew. They sometimes dressed similar to the shadow riders, but Glenfel had learned it was only a deception. These strange, ugly warriors brought a level of barbarism to the region not seen since the Blind Wars. They were like feral dogs. There were even signs the two forces, the rats and the evil men, had somehow joined together. That had implications that would affect far more than just those, north of the line.

Glenfel did not ask much about the hunter from the pit. The two elves that had rigged the carrier, along with the third young blood, would have seen to the man and his needs. That was enough. Funny that she would even give the slaver a second thought. There was, after all, the forest law. Just because Glenfel observed it, she knew that the human hunter did not. Why then bother? Good question. How could saving one man make a difference? How could doing anything to stop the wave of death that was coming make any variance at all? Glenfel dismissed the sinking, depressive thoughts and focused back on staying in her own saddle.

They, the elves that were taking care of the man had dropped back at some point the night before. The extra burden of the carrier was obviously too much for them to keep the pace their leader had set. The hunter was not important to the mission, only to the runner. The Elven commander gave it no consideration at all, as it meant nothing to his quest. The elves assigned, would keep the human safe or die in the effort. Well, that was true at least while she rode with Tratha. These people had dignity and moral codes. Thinking back to Shilon and how he died, Glenfel was sad. She now believed that in "Salor", there were no longer any guidelines or rules. It was not a pleasant memory. She silently prayed that Lar had made it safely home. The old woman had been kind and he was obviously important to her. That was a tangible reality and a true sign of hope. That was the very basis the runner endured all that the elders asked of her. A renewed sensation of purpose filled her heart. It helped Glenfel stay awake. She was so very tired.

Tratha, the leader had rarely glanced back to see if Glenfel or any of the others still followed. He knew his soldiers well and also knew that they would handle themselves. In her case, the commander felt that if she needed assistance Glenfel would ask for it. Of course, that would never happen. That too was okay with Tratha. If she died on the trail, he had still upheld his duty. That was enough. Although Glenfel's value, had been proven to him at the pit. The runner was an excellent fighter and could handle herself. They were going to need good fighters, all they could get soon enough. The commander wondered only slightly about the hunter's relationship to the mutant? Why had she bothered? But the fact that she had, was of real interest to elf. It gave him pause to consider how he felt towards the "breeds". Had he made superficial judgments? His first hand assessment had proved far different then expected.

Tratha's scouting party had ridden a long way before they finally found Glenfel. They were a good group of men. Their loyalty to the high elf was obvious, and the strength of their determination was clear on all their faces. Anyone could see it. Once they had obtained their goal and found the runner, they were focused only on Olcana. They had rarely spoken along the path since she had joined them, but when they did, Glenfel understood. She spoke their language fluently. Glenfel listened and gathered what she could from the few words they shared with each other. It was only bits and pieces of things, but the gist was troubling. The elfin tribes were being overcome. The skirmishes with the charn had long since moved toward out and out war. The two groups combined the new barbarian invaders and hungry charn created a fierce, enemy army.

It was also evident by the way they rode that these men were bone tired. Each elf leaned far forward in the saddle, but to their credit, none complained. They were well trained and toughened by seasons of cruel weather and fighting northern enemies. The charn had given them a hard work out for many years. It was common knowledge in the forest of the Maralan. This, whatever "this" was, seemed somehow different. There was a serious undertone, unspoken but somehow physical in the very air itself. Then, there was lucidity. They were losing. Glenfel let that thought wash over her slowly. The elves were losing. The people of the north were being overcome. It was happening, and the sheer numbers of the enemy were devastating. Once the elves and what few runners would come to their aid had been wiped away, Salor and all the human settlements would be next. "Fools." How far it would continue to the lands beyond?, limitless.

Tratha had kept silent and to himself, even at rest. His men respected him greatly by their actions and did not disturb him. His focus was Olcana and home. To the commander at this point, nothing else mattered except getting there as quickly as possible. It was clear now that his original request for Glenfel to go with them to the ancient city was not a invitation at all. Since they had left the pit, it was plain that the runner would come with their band, one way or the other. To Glenfel it mattered little. Traveling with the elves was probably far safer then by her self. Then there was the hunter to consider. With their help, she was freed from that burden. In her present physical condition that was good.

Only once upon the journey did Tratha really speak to his men. Late one evening they huddled close. The weather had been especially harsh. There had been no fire for warmth. The enemy had crossed their path too many times that particular day with close calls. Glenfel had not been invited to their gathering, so instead had tried to sleep and rest. Yet, she caught pieces from their hushed conversation. The name Calot screamed out to her. The man, was mixed up in all of this? Glenfel knew only one Calot. He was from her, own past. The runner had never heard of any other. These men did not speak kindly either. Was he the same? How could that be? There could not be two?

Calot had been a Warrior of the Light. Well, at least when they were younger, it had been his goal. The elves believed in the Light. It did not make much sense to her. Glenfel could not accept as true, that the brave fighter she once knew would ever enter the shadow of darkness? He was pure of heart. The girl inside the woman was sure of it. Glenfel did not know what race he hailed from, and never asked. The runner did not judge on that scale. All were the same. However, she felt from the moment she laid eyes on him that day and now again in her memory, that he could only be a hero. She meant paladin. It was not just how he looked, it was what he said. That made her half smile. The runner consoled her self that she had only heard pieces of a larger story. Somehow, she would learn more. Not here, not now, but her teacher would answer her questions. Thel was stubborn at times, but this would not be one of them. Glenfel did not like unrequited questions. Funny, thinking on Calot also made her unsettled in other ways. They were harder to describe. She pushed them aside quickly. "Emotions were a weakness". That is what Thel would tell her.

The leader had stopped his band this time to wait for full darkness. No one entered the city these days until deep night. Taking the opportunity to leave her saddle, the runner slid to the ground. As the others set camp and scouts went out to make sure all was safe, Glenfel found she just wanted to close her eyes for a while. That was not to happen. She tied Bota to a small bush and walked closer to the edge. The nearer she drew to the drop off, the added adrenalin fed and quickened her heart. Glenfel gazed down at the grand city below visible and invisible all at the same time. The mist in the trees obscured whole areas completely. The coloring of the buildings artfully created, blended perfectly with the foliage. The Elven city was hidden in plain sight. The night grew deeper, yet no light shown out to reveal, any inhabitants. Glenfel understood further why it was so hard to find. Unwary travelers that did not know precisely where or what to look for would have passed it by. The valley was a bubble. It was ringed by mountains, watered by plentiful streams on several sides and the trees themselves appeared to hold up the sky. The ancient city was breathtakingly grand and truly unique. The elves had used intense and powerful, camouflage to hide their home. It was indeed a work of art and architecture in unison. The city of Olcana was a living city.

Glenfel sat down out on the furthest periphery, not fearing the drop off in the least. The runner continued to observe, still as a statue. It was a wonderful vantage point. A great place to think and be alone as few dared the edge so readily. The woman inside allowed her mind to wander. "Calot?" The name had stayed with her. Her heart beat harder. It was unpleasant. She remembered, the elves had not said good things. The runner had only known Calot briefly when they were young. The forest elders held games for their students each spring season. It was always a huge event, and many came from all over to attend. They had met there. Calot had been a tall youth, handsome, and brave. She recalled that he laughed easy but had a very, serious outlook for the future. The man believed that all humans, elves, mutants or half-breeds should be equally free in the world. No one should hold sway over their lives or keep them as slaves. No one should ever hunt them or kill them out of hand.

Glenfel liked the brave fighter's ideas but did not think there was much chance for them to become reality in her lifetime. She had just had yet another narrow escape. This time from Salor a place considered safe ground by many. Again, the woman was only there at the direction and instruction of the masters. The Leech was to give her information regarding the southern kingdoms. Messengers were sent to warn of the danger that was growing. The bond between the charn and the barbarians greatly reduced the possibility of winning, much less surviving. The human's response; Well, the Leech was dead. Glenfel figured that was answer enough. Peace was not likely with the humans. That would cost them in the end, if things continued on their present course.

Glenfel had not had the chance to test against Calot directly in the events. That did not matter. Glenfel had eyes. Calot would never be an easy opponent to take down. The young man had fallen in love with her within those, short, handful of days at the games. Their love had been wild and secret. Then it changed quite suddenly and he had asked if she would marry him. He had been full of optimism. It had been a swift romance. It also summarily ended. Thel, her teacher said no. Glenfel remembered plainly Calot's anger when she had been given no choice but to refuse his betrothal. It hurt her more then she would have ever admitted. Like all runners, she had little control over her own life. A teacher's word was a command, and Glenfel's instructor had a specific plan for her future. The fine point of the matter, the runner's happiness had no bearing on it.

Glenfel had never seen Calot since. Never until now had she had any word of him. Her heart ached. Old wounds opened, and a dream long lost flooded back. The truth was that love gone astray, never fully heals. Absents helps, but now? The very mention of his name had been more painful on her whole being than she dared consider.

Her teacher, Thel, had spoken against Glenfel choosing anyone, regardless of whom. That was at least until she passed the tests of life. That was the point where Glenfel would be released to go out on her own into the forest. Into the world, anywhere, anytime she liked. Freedom! It was also a timetable set by Thel. It was not that he considered her his slave now or then, just that as a elder he knew the veracity of this world, Arrel. The relationship between the runners and the masters was an old one. The elders kept the ancient knowledge, healing, fighting, and singing. A whole way of life from another time was theirs, passed one to another. This valuable knowledge gave the lost ones, the runners, a reason to exist. In return for their allegiance, the teachers did what they did best. Teach. The runners had a purpose, and the system worked.

Calot had called Thel a slave master. Thel's answer, "To see the world Arrel, in its entirety, was truly something not to be missed." It was a funny poetic response. Glenfel tried to understand them both and being a creature of habit chose the way of her primary species. Glenfel found it hard in some ways, but she also knew that any choosing or caring for another even here in the north would be tough. Her outward appearance was accepted only in a handful of circles. Perhaps if she had looked more human or even Elven, she might have had it easier? She would however by no means pass for anything normal. That was never going to be possible. The ridges on Glenfel's head, the unique shape of her ears and most of all her black eyes would forever evoke trepidation. Fear, hatred and the distrust of the frightening unknown sealed her fate as an outcast. The north was Glenfel's home. Well, that is the way she preferred to think. She had not yet been released by Thel. Maybe she never would be? Until now, it was not important. Now, maybe it was?

Glenfel did not know what had happened to Calot after he left Thel's keep. It was so long ago. The memory flashed in her mind. It was a dark, night after the games. They had argued, or rather, Calot had. Thel simply did not change his mind. The old man just stood there still as stone. Glenfel had kept silent until the end. Thel was right, so she stepped up and agreed to comply. It was over. Well the decision part, not the pain part. That came after and stayed. The girl inside the runner felt it still.

"Feelings lie to you." Glenfel reminded herself not for the first or the last time. She still felt. Oh, and it still hurt. She knew back then that meeting Calot had been the earliest moment in her life she had touched, love. Real emotion was precious. It was a normal feeling for everyday people, not meant for runners. She had also been truly shocked to have it returned. Calot had been a good man. The elves must be wrong now. Glenfel murmured softly. A smile played across her lips at that thought. Calot was innocent in so many ways. It would never have worked for them to be together, if for no other reason than that. He had been sent to learn the old ways. Healing, hunting, surviving and preparing for whatever may come as all the other students were to learn. He had not been sent to find a wife. Calot would always be a part of a different group than the one she was family too. That is to say, if she had any family at all. Even if Calot were not human, he had appeared sufficiently so to pass in their towns and cities. That meant that he was better off than she would ever be. He could be one of them and live a normal life. That was not perfect, but it lowered the risk of being hunted significantly.

Time passed upon the ridge. No one spoke, no one moved. The night consumed the valley below in front of their eyes, like a hungry beast. Still no light came from the city. No light of any kind. That one fact further added to its invisibility. That also obviously contributed to the safety of her citizens. The clouds blocked out the stars above and still looked swollen and heavy as they had in her mind for a lifetime. Glenfel could not remember spring. The trails were still thick with mud in places from the prior days of drizzle. The temperature had dropped in the last few hours. Snow was now possible, or rather more then likely. Regardless, the weather helped to provide a blanket of protection, or at least the facade of one.

Home
Chapter Five-The Future of Trees

The hunter Glenfel had pulled from the pit lay very still, on the carrier nearby. The man seemed to be sleeping peacefully enough. The three elves had caught up to their group a few hours back. They had traveled slower than the rest because of their burden.

"Why save him?" Glenfel shook her head slightly without having an answer. The only one that came close was clearing her debt to the unknown stranger so long ago. A debt was a debt to Glenfel's way of thinking, and it was better to owe no one. The elves had not questioned her reasons for saving the man. They had merely accepted she wanted him alive. Glenfel felt inwardly glad they had not inquired for she did not want to give a response. The hunter would still kill her if given a chance. Glenfel did not allow herself any illusions otherwise along that vein.

Tratha finally gave the signal, and the little group made their way down the cliff face along a very narrow path. The leader's own heart was lighter to see home, and he knew his men would all feel the same. There would be no songs of homecoming to greet them in these hard times, but that did not squash the wishful expectation. The smell of the trees was welcome enough for now. This place, this city was matchless. The ever so slight rustling of leaves and branches above were equal to a cheer of well-wishers to his soul.

The commander continued on at the bottom of the trailhead without stopping. The path was well worn and easy to follow even in the low light of the cloudy night sky. They were being watched from a hundred places all at once. Glenfel could feel the unseen eyes starring out from the enormous boughs and shadows of the great trees. Glenfel knew that news of their arrival would precede them. It would be a welcome event for her companions. As for her self, that remained a question.

Glenfel also found that her hands had gone slightly numb. Without thinking Glenfel had clutched the horn of her saddle too tightly for too long. The pain in her body had grown to the point it threatened to overcome her at any time. It was only her stubborn will that still kept her from falling. Glenfel had ridden this far on the trail without help. She told herself she would make it all the way. She would not give Tratha the pleasure of seeing her fail. Why she felt so adversarial against the man, the runner was not sure. Perhaps it was some funny sense of pride. The runner always did have a small chip on her shoulder. She had to be the best because no one thought her kind had value. Proving them wrong gave Glenfel a small sense of worth.

The runner had failed to obtain any help from the humans. Glenfel was not proud of that, but the effort was made. That was the only reason she had gone to Salor in the first place. Shilon was paid to pass messages south. The fact that Shilon was also dead told Glenfel all she needed to know. Whatever was happening in the north was the North's problem. The south did not care. Well, they would care sooner or later. Glenfel had no doubt. It would be too late.

The runner was going to hold her head up high and state before the council that she had done her best. It was not by her, own lack of effort, but the human's narrow-minded way of thinking, that had caused her to fail. This was not on her shoulders. You can not change generations of raciest rationale overnight, even if it meant eminent destruction. If the humans did not face the threat head on right in front of them, they could not conceive it to be real. So, they blinded themselves from the truth. It would still find them. Evil was not sightless.

Finally, thankfully, Tratha stopped. The big man dismounted and walked back to Glenfel's side. He looked up into her face. Then to Glenfel's surprise he immediately offered his outstretched arms to help her down. His gaze was not unkind. There almost seemed to be a hint of respect. Close at hand. She half dismounted and half slid from her saddle. He did not place her on the ground as she expected but gathered her up and carried her. Glenfel tried to remain alert, but exhaustion won, and she slipped into unconsciousness held safely in his huge, amazingly gentle embrace.

The chamber was lit with low burning torches spread distantly apart. They cast only enough light to see the room, it's' expanse. There was a sweet smell upon the air. Glenfel had no idea where it came from. However, it was pleasant and brought a reminder of better times.

Glenfel woke gradually. She found herself on a makeshift bed. It was a pallet, spread out on the floor against the farthest wall from the door. She felt the soft bedding of fine fabric beneath her with one open hand. The runner closed her eyes for a moment or two longer, relishing in the fact she did not hurt. It had been so long since she could remember a moment without pain.

"Are you better?" The small lilting voice of a young girl brought Glenfel back to the here and now. "You have slept for two days. They had a hard time keeping your fever down. I am Teline, daughter of Talimar." Glenfel opened her eyes and focused them on the beautiful young girl that sat at the end of her pallet. "I was told to watch you and make sure you slept peacefully. I am not to disturb you! I am going to be a healer too." Her tone was very matter of fact. Then she looked very sheepish. "I am not disturbing you, am I?" Her smile was sweet and innocent. For an elf, she was very young.

"I am alright." To Glenfel's surprise, her voice was not much better sounding than a croak. She surveyed her body and injuries quickly with her hands and found no gaping wounds. The healer, whom ever she or he had been, was excellent. Someone had also changed her clothing, replacing it with new, fresh attire. Instead of her riding clothes, she wore a long tunic. It covered her body, from shoulder to foot. It was incredibly soft and made of some unknown material. Glenfel had never felt anything so supple. Her hands reflexively searched for her weapons.

"Everything you have is in the chest. Nothing was taken." The girl motioned to a big trunk a few feet away. "You are welcome here." Teline spoke in a low, warm tone. "I will go and get my mother. She said to wake her no matter the hour." Teline quietly spoke, in obvious awe and wonder at Glenfel. "Are you really a runner?" The last question she whispered even lower, afraid to ask, but daring to know.

"Go now. There will be time for your questions another day." Glenfel found her self angry. Even here among the elves, there was no true acceptance.

The young girl moved swiftly to comply. She stood up from the pallet, appeared to consider speaking, then nothing. Teline turned sharply, her back to Glenfel and walked hastily to the far end of the room. She opened the heavy wooden door carved in wondrous old ruins and stepped out. Then turned and pushed the door shut. When it closed, it made a grave, hard sound. That sound echoed in Glenfel's heart. She was sorry she had been angry. It was not the girl's fault. Perhaps it was only the curiosity of youth? That would be a refreshing reason. Glenfel told herself that she was going to have to be a bit thicker skinned. A lifetime of discrimination and oppression affects every facet of being. It was not just the humans or elves or any other peoples. It was the need. The desperate need for freedom regardless. That was too deep to think about. Glenfel closed her eyes and took a calming breath.

The girl would bring others. They would want her to speak. They would have questions. What else would be asked? Sending out Tratha to find her was important. That was clear.

It was not long until Glenfel heard a knock at the great door. She did not respond, but the door opened anyway, and a woman came inside. She crossed the distance to the big table and sat a wooden tray down gently. Silently, carefully she took a small steaming pot of water and poured it into the cup on the tray. Then opened a tiny container, also on the tray and sprinkled flecks into the liquid. Having completed this task, The woman picked up the cup alone and turned back to Glenfel. She continued on and stepped to the pallet.

The woman was beautiful. Her hair was raven black and cascaded down, far past her waist. It was loosely tied with leather bindings. They were more a decoration then useful accessories. The woman's robe was dark green, nearly black and fell all the way to the floor, covering her feet. A true healer would be shoeless. Glenfel had no doubt that this woman was barefoot indeed. It was considered those that walked the sacred path would not need shoes for protection. True healers were always sheltered. That is except the other side, the enemy side. In that case, the captors would take their time and focused on their feet. On both sleeves of the woman's incredible gown were marks of her trade. Also, symbols of her standing in her clan no doubt, embroidered in priceless nithrelt thread. That was rare indeed. Nithrelt was made from a metal similar to gold and harder to come by. It was not yellow or even white as gold can be, but shimmered and changed slightly, depending on what it was near. The healer was significant.

Glenfel also noticed there were strange markings on the woman's face. She could not read them. They were a language or secret code beyond her experience. The healer's eyes were deep blue. They contained a sparkle rarely found except in gems. In her hand, she held out the cup for Glenfel. "I am the healer. They call me Farwyn. My daughter tells me you are better. I am glad to hear it." The tone of her voice was flat and even, hard to read. "The troll did a fine job of trying to end your days. A nasty business I understand from Tratha. He said you are a brave woman. He also said you risked your life for a human?" In her right hand, she still held out the steaming tea. "Drink this. It will help you grow even stronger. You are needed in the main hall. They have waited long enough for you. It is better not to keep them waiting further."

Glenfel rose slowly and found she was weak but otherwise excellent. She accepted the cup and drank its contents down in only a few gulps. It had an immediate effect. Glenfel's cheeks flushed, and her blood raced warmly through her body. "Thank you!" She whispered. Glenfel looked straight into the woman's eyes for one full, long breath. "Tell Teline, yes I am a real runner." Then she looked away. In that short time however, they had each learned much about the other. Glenfel then glanced around the room but did not find any of her belongings. The runner then remembered what the young girl had told her. Glenfel's clothes and items were to be found in the old trunk. It was right where Teline said it would be, next to the wall. The clothes she now wore were clean, but not hers. "My things? Will I be able to return here, or should I change?"

The woman half smiled, "All is well. The outlands have been quiet, at least for now. Yes. You can either go as you are or change to your own things if you wish. Everything was cleaned and placed at ready, for you. The main hall is not far, but time is an ever-pressing issue. Also, your horse is in the stable. He has been taken care of too. Rackas, the stable master, considers it an honor to be of service. The animal will be ready when you wish." Then before Glenfel could ask the woman any more questions, she seemed to read her mind or at least her face. "He is well. The human is still recovering and is being safely held. That is for his safety and those around him. He will be taken to the border, given a horse and sent homeward. That is unless you have other instructions?"

The healer was as kind as the others had been, not to ask too much, especially the "Why?" most of all.

"That is a wise plan and more than acceptable," Glenfel responded. She did not really think she wanted to face the hunter anytime soon. It was doubtful he would be grateful to know his life was spared by her actions. It would not change his way of life. It would not even give him cause to question. Glenfel did not believe in miracles.

"They await you." Farwyn motioned to the great door. "May your days among us bring you a measure of true peace. We shall all know war soon enough." She smiled warmly, and that simple consideration once again surprised the runner. In better times, this woman and Glenfel would dare to call each other friend. Distrust between the races ran deep. Few ever thought differently.

Glenfel moved from the pallet to the big trunk. Farwyn watched and said nothing more. A measured gaze told her all she needed to know about Glenfel's condition. The healing had been near complete, but that was only physical. Farwyn knew. Wounds to the heart and more importantly to the soul were harder to mend. In this case, the elf did not believe Glenfel's emotional damage would ever heal. She doubted the young runner would live long enough. Maybe none of them would live very long, so it mattered very little.

The chest was carved like the door. The faces of woodland creatures and lovely animals from days long gone, decorated its surface from one end to the other. Glenfel bent down and opened it. Everything was there. Everything she owned. Her garments had been cleaned like new. Her weapons also were cleaned and sharpened. It did not take long to dress and prepare. Clean clothes? Wow. The runner could not remember how that had ever felt before now.

They were indeed waiting for Glenfel. There were four tall elves in full battle dress standing just outside on the walkway. The dark colors of their tunics told of their high ranking status. It was either an honor guard or a show of force to a prisoner. Funny thing was that it looked the same and could go either way. Wordlessly they arranged themselves. Two of them moved to her sides and two just a few steps behind and in front, separately. They all walked along the wide path in the near, complete darkness as if it were the bright light of full day. Elves, of course, could see for many paces in utter darkness. Glenfel could see even further than that. The storm clouds above had blocked out the night sky, or what Glenfel could see of it between the boughs, branches, and leaves of the enormous trees. The green canopy did not have many gaps.

There were no lights in the homes they passed. A stranger would come to believe this place was empty of all life, but not Glenfel. She could feel the many eyes upon her. They were starring out from hidden places as the small procession passed. Because of her superior hearing, she had no doubt of their real numbers. This was a city on edge. Fear was in the air all around. The time for war was close.

The path shifted downward to the ground. They continued walking. The trail changed from wood to stone. The surface was created from granite slabs fashioned together carefully to allow for almost no seams. The masons that laid the path were an asset to their trade. Everywhere, in everything, Glenfel could see pride and love for Olcana. This city was ancient indeed.

The path widened only slightly giving a clear view of the space ahead. The main hall for these people was a colossal, ring of trees. It must have been planted lifetimes ago and thereby created rather than built. The ring had grown so closely together the foliage had combined to form immense ramparts of living wood. In places, they were gracefully carved. The master artists' must have taken centuries to complete the structure. Patiently, the artisans had worked. They had changed and reformed the surface throughout many lifetimes. The elves had impressed a visual history of their race in the living structure. It was beyond striking, to be made by simple, hands.

The entrance door they approached was nothing less than pure, handcrafted sculpture. It's carved surface held the perfect visage of the four northern kings. Legend often spoke of the four brothers. They were the kings of the old world. No one could say if they were man or elf. It was only known that they each ruled their own land. Those lands were said to be mystical places. Both men and elves alike called them by the same names; Fenral the island of fire, Shemana the city of the deep, Frear the high mountain keep and Clovist the land far below, in the deep bowls of the world Arrel, herself. Glenfel could also see the high branches above trained to grow a certain way. They were bent over the structure, intertwined magically to create a solid roof. The whole building gave one pause to consider its exceptional exquisiteness.

The door swung open before them. It was like a huge mouth of an enormous animal. It gapped wide appearing ready, to be fed. The single guard that had led the way here stepped to the side. The one in back, stopped where he was. Only the guards at Glenfel's sides followed through the opening. As Glenfel stepped within the inner room, her eyes adjusted immediately to the slightly brighter interior. There was huge oil lamps hung at intervals. She could actually have seen better in total darkness, but few knew that about her. The hall was larger then Glenfel imagined. The roof must have been a hundred feet high or more. It felt like an enormous cathedral rather than a meeting hall.

The runner's entourage stopped again, without warning. They said nothing. To Glenfel's surprise Tratha, the Elven commander stepped forward from the shadows. He had been waiting for her. He had been just inside the entrance near the wall. The elf looked her over not too unkindly and held out his arm. She reluctantly took it, and he escorted her forward. Her guards remained behind. Perhaps it was the long walk, but the weakness that she had felt earlier returned with a vengeance. Glenfel was thankful for the big man's strength.

They continued together. The grand door was just the beginning of a massive, incredible work of living, art. This was the center of Olcana. This was the heart of their world. A feeling of awe and reverence for its sheer power and beauty was tangible. The vast room was both indoor and outdoor at the same time. The elves loved their home, it was apparent. More than a dwelling, Olcana was a symbol of unity beyond necessity.

Glenfel wished she had come here for a different reason in a different time. She loved her world, Arrel. Being a runner was not the worst thing. You were loyal to few if any, and the world was open. Well, maybe not the cities men dwelt within, but who cared about that. However, this city? This one was different. This one was alive in ways humans would never understand. Glenfel felt closest to the elves. They were perhaps the most accepting of her kind. Maybe that was a necessity too, especially right now. With war ever looming, in front of them all it was important. A common cause often creates friends, perhaps? Well, it was a choice to believe anyway.

The grandeur of this place was awe inspiring no doubt. But the business at hand made it less important. Another day, if time and life allowed, Glenfel thought to come here again. That is, if she lived that long. Cities had always been ugly and dangerous, but this one...was at least pleasing to the eye. It also had an odd reverent appeal. The elves' love of life and the land was obvious in Olcana.

There was a massive table in the center of the room. It had piles of papers and maps spread all over its surface. There were just over a dozen heavily geared, high Elven warriors pouring over the information. Directly across the table, three elders starred back at her intently. They were on a slightly higher raised area allowing them to view the whole room easily. The greatest and perhaps the oldest sat in a giant, beautifully ornate chair. The robes he wore were deep red and green with fur at the collar and sleeves. His seat or even his robes were not the only thing that marked him for his power and position. There was a, certain energy about the man. Glenfel suspected he had the gift, the old magic. There were still a few left. The other two men beside him stood, but that did not lessen their importance necessarily.

"Glenfel, we thank you for your attendance." The deep friendly voice came from the far side of the hall. It was not from the table of warriors or the elders on the dais. The tone was younger and stronger in a far different way. It held a lion's roar beneath its surface. The runner's heart lifted. Dorant! It could only be him.

Glenfel spotted the speaker instantly and met his gaze evenly. He was her friend, her faithful friend. The fact that they were of different kinds, ultimately from different worlds were details of no importance. They were of the same heart and soul. Both loved the land and loved the people therein. They had also learned the law and the hard lessons of the great wood called, Maralan. It had been a lifetime ago since she had seen Dorant. They had fought shadow riders in the past, hunted charn for sport and best of all matched each other several times in the summer games. When he had been called home, there had been no good-bye. Runners are runners. Students from other races, well, they were not. Glenfel never asked Thel where?... as she was sure there would be no answer. Dorant was just gone. That is until now.

The elf walked toward her with direct intent. His hand was outstretched. His long-legged strides covered the distance quickly. Tratha did not move to let her go, and some part of her was thankful. The weakness in Glenfel's knees had not gone. With her free hand, she met Dorant's, palm to palm in friendship. In one simple touch a flood of memories surfaced.

Glenfel noted he wore the half moon crescent, the symbol of clan chieftain at his collar. The rest of his clothes seemed basic, yet fine in quality. Dorant had always had a humble nature. He had also, always been destined to be the leader of his people. She knew that from their past history. His father had sent him to the teachers early on. He had trained as one of the runners in all knowledge favorable to his future needs. That destiny was clearly at hand. The man spoke with ultimate authority. Everyone else had stopped talking. The quiet lion had roared. They now focused all of their attention on the Clan Chief and the runner.

Dorant had always been a strong person. His morals and high standards reflected all the qualities Glenfel found in Thel's history lessons. Stories about heroes that, were larger than life. Men of meek spirit and knightly aspirations called "Paladins" that protected the people, kept the peace and stood for law. These elves could surly use more such men now. Real, flesh and blood ones that is. When she confronted her past, the man, face to face it was hard not to acknowledge fate's hand. Destiny had become the present. She was glad for her friend. His people would do well with his leadership. She was also sad. There would be no more days of hunting in the woods, laughing and riding for sport no matter what the outcome of the war. Dorant was the equivalent of a king to these people. Although they used the term Clan Chief, it was basically the same. The honor was passed from father to son, not chosen. That is why Dorant's father had sent him north to the Maralan in the first place. It was to help him for this future. The absence of the older chief was not missed by the runner. It meant he had passed away.

"We know of your journey to Salor Far town. Do you bring news?" The man released his connection to her. Dorant's formal attitude and the determined set of his jaw told her everything. Things had gone badly in Salor, but from what Glenfel gathered now in his eyes; things had gone badly here as well. Respectfully Glenfel glanced at the elders on the dais to see if she should reply. There was an unspoken assent by the old man in the chair. Then all waited, to listen to the news and dwell on the dream of hope itself.

"They will not help. They do not believe!" Glenfel spoke openly for all to hear. If Dorant was now clan chief, within these walls, and the elder's were present then this was also the end of her journey. She did not have to travel on, north to Thel's dwelling to bring news. All the teachers would know everything that happened here soon enough. Messages would be sent. That also meant the other men at the table represented a vast number of remote tribes. All the elves and what runners could be called would rise together as one. They would create an army of Light. That had always been the ultimate plan. Glenfel also knew they would need that army badly. The numbers did not bode well for the people of the north.

"Then we must fight alone!" Dorant's words were harsh in tone. "Thank you for your efforts. I know it was difficult to go to the city. Even Salor is not a friendly place. These are dire times. You are brave and true to our people, my friend." The man gave her a warm if far away look. He was all, chief now.

The ancient elder in the chair thundered out, "You are released of duty. Your name will not be forgotten in the Halls of Light, Glenfel of the Maralan." His solemn authority reflected in his tenor. He half smiled at her as well. It was a great honor to have served these people in any fashion, Glenfel thought. Her previous anxiety and fears falling away as she dared to peer around the room. There was open admiration on many faces, and even a few looks of respect as well. Glenfel had never felt worthy. Perhaps that was not true? Perhaps.

Tratha started to help her walk back, but she stopped him. "No. I too will fight. Your fight has always been my fight." Glenfel pulled her arm away from Tratha and stood alone. She gathered her energy and determination. The commander glanced her over once more with a renewed approbation.

The powerful elder sized the runner up from his seat. Finally, he spoke again. "Go now. You need to rest and make ready if you are to be of continued use." His eyes told her that she had gained some additional measure of esteem by her outburst. However, the runner also knew that it was now time to do as she was told.

The elf commander moved closer to her again to offer his arm. Glenfel no longer needed it. The hot blood of anger filled her body and gave her strength at least for the moment. These people would fight and die to draw a line against the darkness itself. The humans were slow-witted and empty-headed at best. They refused to acknowledge that the safety they enjoyed in the fair lands to the south was at the expense of others. It was only due to the vigilance of the Elves and a handful of runners, they lived well. If the elves failed then evil would just keep moving their way freely, killing and plundering everything in it's path. She respectfully bowed slightly. Then she slowly turned and walked back the way she had come.

Tratha, followed close on her heels. Once through the central doorway and out onto the path beyond, the elf stopped Glenfel. He used a slight tap on her right shoulder with his open hand. She turned to face him squarely. "We have not been friends, but come let us change that before the light of morning. You will stay with my family in my home. You will be as my own blood." Tratha caught Glenfel's eyes and held them in his strong gaze. "I did not know you had been one of the messengers. There had been so many elves sent, and so few had returned. I had not thought of your kind. I did not realize, they had also made the attempt."

Glenfel was shocked. The elf commander was making some kind of apology. Why? She was grateful to this man. She would probably be dead, if not for him. "Perhaps my kind and yours are bonded together in ways we both are yet to understand fully." Glenfel accepted his outstretched arm once again. They walked on into the dark night.

Home
Chapter Six- War

Three long, sleepless days and nights of fighting had come and gone. It was the morning of the fourth day. The skirmishes had lessened some, but there was yet no end in sight. There were only brief lulls, and then the killings would begin a new. The creatures came in waves. The pitch-black sky mirrored the mood of the entire force at arms. Morning or night, all seemed the same.

The elves were silent mostly or spoke in hushed tones, vigilant and ready for the next round. The blood bath would and did continue, in pockets and small breakouts. That was not the problem. The real threat was still to come. There was a feeling within the air, the enemy was gathering its forces for a larger confrontation. No one was sure when, but it was imminent. The elf clans simply pulled together what little strength they still had with such small numbers. Those able to fight would fight to the last.

Thinking back, Glenfel remembered the first assault. They had hit the great Elven city just before dawn. It had occurred the morning after Glenfel's meeting with Dorant and the elders. She had rested some and prepared as she could for the battle while in Tratha's home. That had been a brief respite from the grim future that faced them all.

There would be few if any that would miss, Glenfel really, so good-byes were unnecessary. That was the way of runners. They had no family and no true connections to mark their lives. Few would remember them. Even the forest teachers rarely cared what happened to their students. They merely kept records of the runners for the Time Keepers as a formality. Glenfel's presence in Olcana would have been reported. Her information would have been considered vital. Nothing else. The handful of beings Glenfel had ever called friends or felt any emotion toward, were in Olcana now, with her. That or they had already gone to the land beyond. Glenfel figured that she would be joining them soon.

The commander had been kind. Glenfel had gone to his home after the meeting. There she had rested and broken bread with his family. It was a small surprise to find that she had already met them both, Tratha's wife and daughter. The healer Farwyn, and the curious young girl Teline, were in fact Tratha's own kin. The runner should have guessed. Tratha's given name was Tratha Talimar. While she was under his roof, Glenfel found out much about his family. The commander had treated Glenfel with dignity. The other two had done the same, either by instruction or design. At first, it was unsettling to stay with the commander's family. She felt as if she was imposing her presence. It did not take long, once under his roof, for that to change.

Tratha did not really speak much as they had eaten together, but tradition alone told her that she was considered welcome. Words sometimes cheapened deeds. The offering of his dwelling had been significant enough. The young girl, Teline had met Glenfel at the door, when she first arrived. She had been respectful, but a playful smile told her that the message Glenfel had given to Farwyn, had been delivered. That one piece of her life had been set right. No big deal to some, yet Glenfel had only trivial matters to define her last days. It was better than dwelling on death.

Fire! That had been the weapon of choice. The first assault had been brutal. Glenfel heard the screams. It was unlike the charn to use such tactics, but they had help. Evil men, barbarians that were driven by the dark one had finally come. At first, Glenfel had thought them shadow riders? Her journey's and the information she learned from Tratha confirmed that it was not true. There had always been unrest between the riders' and the elves. Maybe there were even riders among the barbarians, but Glenfel did not think so. The new fighters had stirred up the old hates by posing as riders. It had been found out too late. The elves' distrust had been their undoing. They could have joined with the real riders and maybe increased all their chances.

The barbarians Glenfel now knew came from deeper north than ever before. They had joined the charn, or maybe they had learned to tame them? The outcome was the same. Together they made a powerful, force at arms. It was all about their numbers, compared to the elves. Glenfel did not believe the new fighters were more than ugly men, pushed by greed, anger or more likely hate. Again, the "why" had less importance that the dying at hand. Glenfel would let the Time Keepers write it up in history whatever the truth really was in the end, if any lived to provide the details.

Fire! Barbarians had no fear of fire and wielded its power to destroy with zeal. Great arrows of brilliant yellow, orange, and red colors struck the main buildings. A hundred tiny, malicious, children of a greater flame appeared. They jumped, consumed and started new fires as if driven by magic. They were everywhere in a matter of moments. Raucous screams went up from a thousand directions, and powerful voices of men could be heard defending their loved ones. The forest had come alive that morning with the faces of hideous rat-men, the Charn. Right at their side was the new enemy. Not shadow riders at all, but men of the deep north. The invaders, usurpers, had made a common bond with the deadly animals. It proved to be a devastating alliance to all that stood for good in the land.

The elves had prepared over the days and even weeks before. The trouble in the territory had been growing, and they knew it. Many had moved their families to the high hides in the cliffs to the west, but there were also those who had refused to leave. The barbarians and charn both had been swift and killed without mercy. The elves of Olcana could not have hoped to defend against such a mass. After that first deadly clash, Glenfel noticed the great hall still stood. The ancient place, where she had met the elders and Dorant, a short while ago was now a shell. It was charred, and hallowed out, totally beyond recognition. The incredible beauty of the structure was gone forever.

Glenfel replayed the previous events over again in her mind as she sat waiting for the next round. Tratha had run out of the house with his sword held high and ready. He took several of the creatures down with only a few swings. He was skillful and experienced, but he was also a mad man. The commander fought for his family, his home and his very way of life. His berserker rage was evident and easy to understand. Glenfel had followed only steps behind him. All of her weapons had been brought to her. The runner was more than ready to kill. This was about survival. There would be no prisoners.

In a blur, Glenfel had attacked the intruders again and again. She only vaguely remembered seeing Tratha near her doing the same. The house, Tratha's home had burned as did so many, out of control. Then, She, Glenfel saw the young girl run out from the doorway. Teline, beautiful Teline had been on fire. A heartbeat later Farwyn followed on her heels. The panicked mother tried desperately to catch her daughter. She needed to stop her. She needed to put out the flames. It was like some terrible surreal scene, come to life before Glenfel's eyes. Without hesitation, the runner had moved to block the girl's path.

The reality grew more gruesome when Glenfel noticed the charn that boar down on Farwyn. Glenfel had to make a desperate choice. She knew she could stop the girl or save Farwyn. Her heart had twisted inside. Glenfel made her decision and lunged at the young girl. She caught Taline and rolled as one together on the ground with her. The fire had been put out. Taline whimpered in pain, but she was still alive.

Glenfel had looked over to see Tratha holding his wife close, in the last moments of her life. The two charn that had attacked Farwyn were dead. They were in pieces on the ground nearby. Tratha had picked Farwyn up as if she were nothing but air, light as a morning breeze. He had brought her to Taline's side and sat her down gently. Glenfel stepped back and watched the miracle of love. Farwyn was near death as she placed her hands on her daughter. She gave the girl all she had left, her last token of love. Taline's burns healed before the runner's eyes. It was the gift of a miracle, and the sad death of a beloved mother all in one breath.

Tratha had then leaned and kissed his wife good-bye. He picked up her body and walked back toward the fire of his own dwelling. Glenfel thought to stop him, but it was not her place. As if without fear for his own life, he walked right in and sat her down inside their home. He had no time to bury his love properly. This was the best he could do. So he touched her brow softly for only a heartbeat, turned and left the structure. A moment later it collapsed. Glenfel was pleased to see he did not intend to die with Farwyn. His actions were understandable and necessary. Charn ate the dead. Better to burn all bodies.

The battle had soon died down after that first battering. The fire had been a good and bad thing for the attackers. It had consumed the city swiftly. The charn grew afraid as the fire raged. It devoured the forest and dwellings, while choking smoke made further fighting nearly impossible. The enemy not knowing the city layout, turned and retreated or became lost and disoriented. The latter became easy targets for the cities fierce survivors. The elves then gained the upper hand. How long that was going to last, was anyone's guess? Sadly Olcana could not be saved. The damage was beyond repair. It was in ashes or still flamed wildly in places. Life was important, the people were important. The roots ran deep in the trees. Yet, it would never be as it was. The loss was beyond measure.

Tratha left Taline with the hand full of survivors set to journey to the high hide. Glenfel had watched as the elf commander kissed her brow and whispered what comfort he could to her alone. Taline did not want to be left behind. She did not want to go with strangers to a safe place. After seeing her home burn to the ground, Taline knew there were really no safe places in the world. However, it was not something that could be avoided. The girl was too young and knew nothing of fighting. She would now take her place as a healer like her mother for their people. That was important.

The runner wondered what Tratha might have said to his daughter? What might he have offered as hope? Maybe having loved ones, had drawbacks after all? Glenfel thought it worth the risk, to feel something. Even if it were a loss, it would be real.

The elf and the runner then left for the gathering point. That is where the last of those that could fight would make plans to survive. The bond between the two had grown. The term family had a new definition for the man. The runner had fought and saved his own blood kin. That was life-changing. As for Glenfel, well, having a purpose was good since the odds were more than against them.

It was now the morning of the fourth day, but Glenfel had actually lost count. One seemed exactly like the next. Fight, retreat, and fight again. It was a terrible dance, and the music was loud, the rhythm deadly. The sky above was dark, black and ugly with the promise of more rain or even snow? It was as if spring had abandoned the world altogether, the temperature dropped. Ice formed over the mud puddles in places. The ashes from Olcana still fell in huge gray flakes here and there. It covered everything. It got inside too. Glenfel could taste the "dead". It did not make her weak. It made her mad. More than that, it made her dangerous. When the odds were so against any kind of victory, much less a win, that was a good thing. Dangerous was the sister of deadly. The combination made Glenfel lethal.

All the remaining elves, from Tratha's troop, along with Glenfel herself, now waited together. They waited for Dorant, the Clan Chief. Slowly others joined their assembly. Glenfel watched. She counted their numbers. There were not enough. The morning passed, but it did not get brighter. The sky continued to be black, and the feeling was dire. The mood was mirrored in all who fought now, just to live. An entire city burnt to the ground! Blood, smoke and death, there was no end and no optimism. It was not about turning the enemy back, it was about allowing their families and loved one's time to escape. The question no one wanted to ask, "to where?".

Try as she might Glenfel could not recall a single bright sunny day.

"When days and nights mirror in the sky,

Evil dances joyfully across the land.

Heroes are not born, they are destined."

Funny that Glenfel would remember her teacher's words now? It had been a lesson or at least part of one, from years ago. Thel was an odd, old bird. He often talked in twisted rhymes that left Glenfel wondering if he were sane? She had also thought the "days and nights part" was just about being a runner. That life was a circle and it never ended. "The evil dancing?" Never had she dreamed that there would be out and out war? That is precisely what had happened. While the elves concerned themselves with trivial matters in the north, like petty skirmishes with the Shadows and their tribes. The new enemy had watched and waited. They had somehow bonded themselves to the charn, and evil had flourished. How had Thel known? Was the little bit of wisdom or poetry a prophetic limerick?

No one had seen or heard from the elves posted to watch over Olcana. Where were they? The ones meant to raise the alarms and keep her safe from exactly what had happened? It had to have been a well-planned attack to take out so many so fast. That was unlike the charn. The barbarians were not overly smart. There had to be something or someone greater helping them both. That was disconcerting. Better not to dwell on anything except the fight. Glenfel focused her thoughts.

In all her memory Glenfel could not recall the Shadow Riders siding with anyone but themselves. They were not normally peaceful, but they were not necessarily, warlike. They also never had anything to do with the charn as far as Glenfel knew. Some runners had even become friendly with their tribes. The reality was that they, the Shadow Riders were not the real enemy at all. In the end, they were just as at risk as all the rest. The elves may have even bridged their hatred and made alliances with the riders? That was a lesson learned too late. Hate always leads to poor decisions. The comparison between the elves and humans both deciding to feed their own fears or live in denial rather than progress toward peace was ironic.

Regardless the main enemies were still men. They acted like animals at times, but they still bled. The cruel north had made them into hardened warriors, with rigid hearts just to survive the land. The darkness must have found their weakness or the promise of their greatest desire to enlist them into its evil horde. They were not smart, but they were fierce and strong. They were also many. This new group, they were extremely brutal. With their allies the Charn, they were a mob.

It was now time to turn the tables on the attackers and bring the battle back to the enemy. Dorant rode into the clearing with a dozen of his own elite guards at his side. The Elven ruler stood tall in the saddle of his majestic horse. His clothing was stained and dirty, but he still looked powerful and authoritative. Dorant's presence brought renewed determination among his followers. It cheered Glenfel too. He was no longer the young man from long ago, but a paladin, fighting for the lives of his people. The runner was never more proud of her friend, yet also, never more sad.

The Clan Chief spoke in common, as others had joined their band in the night. Others, by way of runners, settlers, and town folk from as far south as Mayir, now assembled. If they did not turn the tide here, then tomorrow would look very different for the sons and daughters of the Great Wood. "Gather together close... Evil, has come to our land." The leader's words were low, but somehow he was heard by all. The message was clear. Fight or be stamped out!

Dorant readied himself for the blood bath ahead. He checked his own weapons carefully. His men checked theirs. No more words would make any difference. Only violence and death would follow. When you have everything to lose you fight hard. When you have nothing left to lose, you fight with a vengeance. Thinking about Farwyn, filled Glenfel with the latter of the two. She owed her own life to the Elven woman. This was personal.

Glenfel, seated on her mount waited, by Tratha's side. She observed the movements of the charn in the Toleer Valley below with the others. The small clearing they had gathered on, was also a good vantage point for the entire area. It was not the same place she had been before. This clearing was slightly further to the north and west. Bright fires, still out of control, speckled the basin here and there. With the black clouds above, the flames were easy to pick out. The barbarians had set fire to any structure they found. The rat creatures knew no mercy, not even for their own kind. It was an eerie thought to know they would eat their fallen with equal zest as any other pile of meat. Destruction was second nature to them. Glenfel could not see all the enemy forces below through the trees that remained, but she knew they were there. The valley was alive with the various forms of bodies moving methodically, yet randomly, killing.

There were still several hundred elves in the forests that surrounded the ruins of Olcana. Some were along the west, more on the south, but a remnant still held pieces of the north. All were ready to move. They had been badly beaten in the first wave, but now they had reformed. In addition a few more tribes had gathered from the far reaches in answer to the call of the elders. It would still not be enough. Numbers did not lie. The outcome was already written. That would not stop them. These elves were fierce of heart, and the odds did not dissuade even the least among them. The enemy's numbers continued to swell as each hour passed. The cover of darkness provided by the black clouds in the heavens gave a small edge, but that was nominal at best. How had Dorant's people, been so unaware of the massive numbers the charn had achieved? The rat-men were stupid generally, but "this" was planned on a grand scale.

A single torch in the trees to the runner's left was lit. It was a bright blue light that shimmered and danced. It was a cold fire. A beautiful glow, a beacon in honor of the Light and begin the battle. The signal, the command to attack had been lit. The forest, ominously quiet a heartbeat before came to life. The elves road forward, out to attack in waves from all sides. They rode down the slopes and into the hideous horde below. It was their turn to surprise and kill the adversaries.

The night before messengers had been dispersed to the Time Keepers, the ageless historians of this world. The elves were funny that way. They may all die here, but they would be remembered. Glenfel had sent word to her own forest teacher on a whim, along with them. It had been a brief good-bye. The attachment she had never really felt to Thel plagued her slightly. It had been a formality really to let him know of her near certain death in the hours to come.

The hunter that she had left behind with the elves, a lifetime ago would survive. He was probably on his way south by now. A half smile raced across her features at that thought. They had let him go as Glenfel requested she reminded herself. Not before making him wish he had never come this far north Glenfel was sure. It was unlikely that he would return of his own accord once he saw the path home.

This was now the time for a clear mind, she thought. The runner breathed deeply, "A time to die." Her voice echoed mournfully even to her own ears.

The bloody conflict would be worth a song if there were anyone left to write it. There were still hundreds of charn left even after hours of fighting. She did not see many barbarians in the fray. It was as if they led the charn but did not fight with them. If not the barbarians directly then who or what was pushing the animals? Glenfel had seen a handful of mutant warriors fight alongside the brave elf souls. This was their land, and they would all fight and die to protect it. Glenfel had already seen that with Tratha. The look in his eyes had made it obvious. That was before the death of Farwyn. Now his eyes were black, only hate looked out.

Sometime during the timelessness of the raging war, Glenfel had held Dorant in her arms. She had witnessed his spirit as it left the field of battle, to go to a better place. That had made Glenfel fight all that much harder, but she could do nothing else. She also saw Tratha go down. He had killed many, but they overcame him. They swamped him like a flash flood, in a hard rain. That alone would have made a poem fit for the court of any king. The commander had earned every fancy thread on his tunic, over and over again before the end.

Then the skies darkened further. It was still somewhat early in the day, but it did not matter. Something bad was growing. Electricity in the air made brighter sparks fly from weapons. Then suddenly the pain began. Inside her mind, she felt it. Like a drug or poison it grew. She did not know if the new attack was against her or all the defenders? Glenfel moved her body to fight the unseen enemy as best she could. He or it was untouchable. The dark one, Fandran himself had invaded her very being. That, and something more powerful. Glenfel found that she could not fully imagine a face or give form to the blackness. It consumed her, and she felt the hardness of the ground. Glenfel's legs tingled and went numb and her eyes closed. Breathing became difficult and heavy smoke filled the air. A burnt smell intensified. Mercifully, Glenfel then passed out completely.

Waking the runner found herself with her back stiff against the hard ground. She starred up at the huge sun. The woman had longed for it in her heart. Now, right there. The clouds had parted and the bright ball climbed higher as she watched. "What had happened to the storm clouds and rain?" She wondered. The gray ash from the fires still swirled back and forth. It choked the light from the bright day and tried to usurp the sun. Then she felt the breeze. It cleared the heavens above to some degree. However the sky would not be normal anytime soon.

"I must leave the valley." Glenfel thought, as she stood slowly, uneasily. A dizzy spell threatened to take her down. The runner fought it back hard. She staggered across the vast field of battle toward the trees. She stepped carefully over the bodies and remains of a hundred elves as she gained ground toward safety. Ugly shapes of twisted forms, living things left for dead, carcasses of the fallen, littered the ground, everywhere. Faces frozen in anguish, others blank and lifeless stared up at the ever brightening light of a new day. The moans of the fallen still holding on, begging for a few more moments. The ones afraid of the "beyond", were sickening. Then there were a few, blissfully quiet, appearing to be free of a tremendous burden. They had died giving there all to save those they loved. Glenfel thought that would be an excellent way to pass.

The runner continued toward the trees.

Home
Chapter Seven-Watcher on the Hill

The deafening sounds of metal clashing, men screaming their war cries and the hideous screeches of rats filled the air. It was the pure sound of chaos. Annon, from the high cleft, above the eastern end of the valley, sat and watched. He could see the entire expanse below like some gigantic, board game. The pieces moved back and forth at the prompting of giant unseen players. Deep within his heart, he wished to go and help, to drive back the hordes of charn that faced the small army of elves and half-breeds. That was not to be. Shendar had told him, he must first know of death to learn of life. That sounded a bit too prophetic for his taste, but Shendar had given him purpose in life when he had thought he had lost everything. For that reason alone, Annon had agreed to obey the teacher's directions.

The elves at first seemed to have the upper hand, but the sheer numbers they were against spoke badly of the outcome. It was not going to be easy for Annon to sit this one out. It was not his way. The sky above was black, and it mirrored his mood. There had been so much death over the last handful of days that the Prince was numb inside. It was an inner feeling that you just had, which left you knowing you would never really be okay again.

While Annon looked on the sun broke through the storm clouds. The huge warm ball rivaled the prospect of rain. A swift, cold wind sprung up from the south. The chill was knife like. It did not give any opportunity to warm the soaked land. It moved the clouds further north. That was helpful. Now above, only the gray ash persisted in choking the life from the heavens. The flakes from the city ruins still raised high in the sky, forming hideous shapes, among the true clouds of the blue. The sun climbed. Regardless of the fray, it announced, life continues. The battle lessened and the rats retreated. As a rule, rat-men did not like the daylight. They left behind the torn remains of those they had fought only moments before. It was a mass retreat. They would however; return with the dark, to scavenge what remained upon the bodies and perhaps the bodies themselves for food. It was a sight never to be forgotten even with a lifetime of trying.

A stench so vile it filled not only the lungs but the heart, drifted up to Annon. The carrion birds would have their fill this day. He lifted his eyes to gaze out over the whole valley below. Shendar had warned him. He must not go down until the sun cast no shadow and was directly overhead. Between the black ash and the rotting flesh, it was hard to remember what clean was. In some way, Annon knew this part of the world would never be unsoiled. What happened here, would take generations or maybe never, to recover.

Then Annon saw it. One of the fighters began to move from where it had lain still upon the ground. Everything else in the valley lay quiet, or surely dead except this one. He watched keenly. Annon noticed the man staggered as if severely wounded. He seemed to be making his way toward the trees on the eastern side. Twice the man nearly fell again but stumbled on instead. Obviously, intent on the tree line and escape from the bloody field.

Then, from the opposite side of the battlefield, he noticed movement again. This one was easy to recognize. It was a rat-man. It was a straggler from the main pack. It too had spotted the survivor leaving the field. It crouched low and began to trek silently after the first figure. It had a bright, sharp weapon gripped tightly in its paws. The beast had probably taken it from one of the fallen. That made Annon furious. The fighter carried no weapon that the man could see. He quickly determined that he could not and would not watch one more of the brave souls die. The man had seen enough needless slaughter in the hours before dawn. A resolution was made right there and then. It was stronger than any promise to Shendar about waiting. This was a matter of life and death. No Prince of the Isle would ever be still.

Only moments left before the rat would reach the fighter. Annon moved forward with deadly speed. He slid easily down the valley's edge to the basin below. It was not far. The rise was not that steep. The fighter put aside Shendar's instructions completely. Once he reached the floor of the valley, the experienced warrior took over and he proceeded with lethal intent. The injured fighter had already vanished within the trees ahead, but the charn was not far behind him. Annon too was close. He ran now. He leaped over the remains of elves, ugly men and huge rats alike with skillful ease. The Prince had fought many battles in his relatively short lifetime. This, however, was only about life and death. The difference was like night and day. Some part of Annon now knew the lesson Shendar had sent him here to learn. Well, at least the lesson the big man took away from the event. "Life was worth fighting for." He came to within ten paces of the beast and called out, "Charn! Face me!" His deep tone of voice carried the imminent threat of his deadly challenge.

The thing leaped to the side and turned with remarkable speed upon the man. He looked on in disbelief as the rat took the first attack. The fighter had not expected the creature to be so agile. It had closed the distance between them in no time at all. Annon had Balor's ax at the ready. In one fluid motion, he was prepared to meet the beast. Annon's love, Drellin had died retrieving the weapon from Bracar. Now he would use it, has it was meant to be used. The thing before him was a creature just like the one that had taken her life. It had taken it for the dark one, Fandran. This was not vengeance, but it did carry a polluted kind of justice. By that he felt no mercy and only embraced the validity that no one else would die by this animal's hand.

The match began as the charn pounced toward Annon, screeching at him in defiance. It held a stolen, long knife in its paws from a fallen fatality. The veteran fighter was unclear if it tried to deflect his attack with the metal or use it. The thing swung wide and up, while he hefted the mighty ax with ease. In fact, the ax felt as if it welded itself. Seconds later the charn lay at the fighter's feet cleaved in half from skull to belly. It was funny. He could not remember having actually brought the weapon down. The body writhed back and forth as the remains of its life leaked out onto the ground.

The Prince looked up from the terrible sight before him and realized the survivor was nowhere to be seen. Quickly, he wiped the blood from the blade on the remains of the creature's body and moved swiftly in the direction of the trees. Blood covered the ground, so it was difficult at best to pick out the right trail of the injured man. As he searched, Annon began to ponder the reasons for the battle. Why had the elves fought alongside the half-breeds, joined as one great force? It was his understanding that few if any accepted the mutants. Even together against the rat-men, they were far outnumbered. Perhaps the sheer desperation of the situation was the answer. However, both the elves and half-breeds could have retreated. They could have saved some of their force, but they did not. "Why?"

The man broke through the trees into a smaller clearing and saw the injured man. He was just ahead. The individual still staggered from side to side too. "Wait!" Annon called in common. The warrior only continued to walk. "Wait!" Annon hailed a bit louder than before.

The figure stopped within his tracks. He was cloaked from head to foot in a brown cape now covered with dirt and stained with blood from the battle. He stood far too straight to be another charn, of that Annon was sure. Besides it had to be an elf, why else would the charn be trying to follow and attack it? Annon could not see any wounds from the back, but he seemed to favor his left side.

Glenfel's eyes were heavy laden with exhaustion. Her mind still spun and writhed with the presence of Fandran's evil presence. The dizziness threatened to overwhelm her with each labored breath she took. Glenfel knew too that it was his poison, for it burned as it flowed still around her heart. Lost somewhere inside herself she fought a new battle, a battle for her very being. Deep within her physical senses, she felt her leg throbbing with the sensation of terrible pain. Glenfel didn't seem to be able to react any more than by its simple acknowledgment. Her shoulder too ached and made her left arm hard to move.

Annon walked carefully closer and again spoke out loud. This time he repeated his hales in broken Elvish with a mix of the common tongue, "Wait, I can help you." Then the injured fighter turned. The hood fell back and away. Annon could see its face and features clearly now. The big man held his ax at ready, reflexively. He became unsure of who or what he dealt with as he gazed at her or it, for the first time? He had seen mutants before but none like this one. Its eyes were completely black, without whites to them at all. It had claws unlike a rat-mans but more like those of a reptile of some sort. Dark brown hair, like a human's, fell around its face giving it a definite look of "female." Its ears were fanned backward, higher than that of a normal human's and across its cheeks and brow, were ridges like that of an ancient dragon. He had seen plenty of those in Shendar's old books.

"You tell me to wait, and then hold your weapon against me? I am unarmed, human." The voice that responded was low and carried a note of sadness. It had answered in common. The world danced about Glenfel in waves of dizziness, which threatened her ability to stand at all. Fighting this new enemy would be nearly impossible. A quick death might be preferable, she thought to herself. That is instead of being caught by a charn scout party. Funny, one death was in the end as good as another, Glenfel thought. Fandran's evil was dissipating and losing its grip on her. It was as if this stranger had somehow broken the bonds it had held her by. How could he do that?

The man recovered from the site before him swiftly. He responded kindly, "No, I will not harm you." He lowered Balor's ax. "My horse waits at the top of the ridge. Come, I will take you there. I will take you to safety." He stepped closer to her, just in time as Glenfel's knees buckled and she fell forward toward the ground. He dropped the weapon and tried to catch the girl, the best he could. Annon only barely succeeded in time. To his amazement, she was very light. Leaning down he retrieved the ancient weapon with one hand, while still holding her body. Easily, he kept her in his embrace and turned toward his camp. He then started back the way he had come. Back up the slope and to his horse, Morgane.

He wondered slightly at her size and weight. She seemed very fragile somehow. The noon sky soon filled with birds. They came to pick over the bodies of the dead. The smell of rot was now so pungent you could almost touch its presence. Annon shuttered inside, at the sad waste of life he had witnessed. While he had not followed Shendar's directions to wait, he had learned a valuable lesson. At least Annon thought he had, even if it may or may not have been the right one. It did not matter to the Prince, in the end. If the old man was mad, then so be it.

Finally, Annon came to the top. He arrived at his small encampment. There he leaned beside a huge, granite rock, with her still in his arms. Gently he placed her down. The big fighter had used this same site earlier that morning to rest upon while he had watched the massive slaughter. He then retrieved his water sack from his saddle and tried to make her drink to almost no success. It seemed as if she had passed out. The woman mumbled a little under her breath, but he did not believe she was lucid. Although he remained very alert, Annon felt they were relatively safe for the moment. There would be feeders of all kinds down in the valley, this horrific day. They would come and feast upon the blood-soaked field below. That was the way of things. That was the law of this land. He walked back to his horse quickly and retrieved his blanket from the saddle. Then returned to her side and covered her. Annon was well pleased with himself that he had not let her die. Death had claimed too many as far as he was concerned, and if he could save just this one, then he had cheated the fates.

Glenfel whirled round and round as if falling from a high place. It was a dream or nightmare of some kind. It was a quickening, a changing of some part of her very being. The runner's essence, the part of her core that was truly life, felt moved to bursting. Like a butterfly in a cocoon, Glenfel was renewed. Yet, there was one part that held her firmly to the present. The runner then wondered if she had died, or if this was the way to death? The evil darkness had changed. It had retreated in fear? Was that release?

The woman saw in her mind's eye, the circle. It was a ring built from the massive bodies of great dragons, blended in all the colors. Colors, she had never seen before or perceived in her life. Fandran's evil lacked the power it had upon her only moments before. All trace of it, was now gone. Between the fighter's presence and now this place, something or some things had changed drastically. In her mind, things began to clear and sharpen. The images were overwhelming and beautiful all at once.

The runner felt that she now stood upon a wide, black surface. It resembled onyx. She was within the circles center. Light, bright light was all around her, without a given source to bring it forth. It was warm and pleasant. But where was she? The thought plagued her to the center of her being. "Dragons?" Glenfel thought. "All the dragons are dead! These cannot be here, or alive? How did I come to be here myself?" The awe she felt was dwarfing.

Strange music played softly, and voices whispered to her from the past just beneath conscious thought. Then the room stilled. A complete silence took its place, broken only by the voice of a man she could not see. "You are. We have been! We are real Armilander." He spoke with authority. The vacuum of silence returned. The tone of the speaker had been so reassuring, so familiar that Glenfel felt no dread.

"Where am I? What do you mean Armilander?" Glenfel glanced around at the great creatures. Her eyes were wide with wonder. "Whom do I speak with? Show yourself!" Glenfel tried to sound brave. She tried to fill her voice with power and strength, but her energy was all but gone. Her tone was low and weak to her own ears. Glenfel looked down at her body. She saw no wounds from the previous night's battle. She was not even dressed in her riding clothes but in a plain brown robe tied at the waist with a small gold chain. She was weaponless as well, yet strangely that did not alarm her. The feeling of being home, really home filled her with joy. The kind of pleasure that could not be easily described only felt inside. Glenfel had never known anything like it before. She could not even remember what she had done with her weapon? When did she have it last? It should have been more important to her, but it was not.

The man's voice spoke again, but this time she saw the dragon. It moved as if it were he that had uttered the words. It was an ancient, bronze male with scales that glinted and sparkled in the light. It was the same warm light that bathed everything Glenfel looked upon. "Tell us about the Armilander?" His tone was calm but persistent. In amazement, she could no longer doubt it was, in fact, the great bronze that had spoken to her. Glenfel had heard it in her head, as clear as if it was audible to her ears, but it was not. "Answer!" The beast growled low.

"What is it you seek from me, ancient one?" Glenfel mumbled the question in awe. His size alone of any of these beasts left her numb. It was trepidation born of respect. Glenfel gazed up at the dragon. His sheer mass would easily test even the strongest of heart.

"Answer!" The dragon's tone belayed impatience. The ground beneath her shook slightly with his rumble. It was a command, not a threat. She would answer him. The other dragons waited silently. Their penetrating eyes watched her intently. This was a test of some kind, Glenfel could sense it.

"I don't know what it is you seek. I am just a runner. I am no one of importance, only a fighter for the north." Glenfel knew that was not enough. His stone cold stare told her as much, so she continued. "The Armilander is only a legend. If one truly exists, then you have the wrong person." It was a precarious business telling a dragon he was wrong. By every account that would make her a meal according to the old stories.

"No!" A great growl went up. The sound radiated around the circle and bounced off the cavern walls with the power of rolling thunder. Glenfel desperately put her hands over her ears and cupped them there tightly. The volume was deafening. "What is it you want?" Glenfel screamed in hopelessness. The echo of their voices together as one rang in her mind as language and in her ears as roars for many moments. It crossed her mind that she might go both deaf and insane if they continued in this manner.

"Quiet." A woman's voice in her head intoned, low in level yet full of ancient power. It was not directed at Glenfel but the room at large. They all heard it one way or another. It was sheer, authority. The great room once more returned to complete silence. Glenfel's head cleared. She lowered her hands from her ears cautiously and put them to her sides. Then the voice spoke again, "I am part of the past. Your past, Armilander! Repeat to us the legend. Then, in return, I will explain your presence here within this circle."

Glenfel shifted toward the direction of the new speaker and saw a beautiful, golden dragon. The eyes were brilliant red, and each scale looked as if it were genuinely bejeweled. It was not the largest in the group, but obviously, she was of high standing, and well honored. It would not be a wise choice to ignore her. The fact that she was in the presence of dragons, real dragons should be unnerving or worse, but it was not. Instead, the woman felt oddly at ease. Slowly Glenfel thought back to the stories and teachings of her childhood. She wanted to answer correctly.

"The Armilander is a dragon that can not be a dragon, for it is a creation from the beginnings. When the dragons die, and magic leaves the world, the Armilander begins the cycle again. It is always female, born within the last clutch from a perfect golden dragon. When she reaches a certain point of maturity, she loses her human form and changes into a real dragon." Glenfel paused. Her mouth was dry and her throat felt like it wanted to close completely. Regardless, the woman began again. "Soon after that, there is flight. Then the Armilander will mate with one of the Cathanels, males born within the same clutch as her self. The eggs that are conceived and hatched are true dragons. Thus begins a new era. Magic then returns, stronger than ever across the land." Tears came unbidden to Glenfel's eyes as her last words hung before her in the air. Somehow Glenfel knew inside all along that her life had a destiny. This, however, was almost more then she could bear. It was not every day that you found your self promoted from the status of lonely runner to that of an Armilander. If it were not for the changes in her body even now, she would not consider any of this to be true. Yet, denial was not an option.

The golden mother breathed a heavy sigh. "You have so much to learn, and so little time to learn it in. We must tell you a lifetime of history in the span of a heartbeat. Listen well and know your place and what you must do..." The knowledge and history of an entire race crashed down on Glenfel. It was like an avalanche of memories, records, and legends gathered together and dumped on her very essence. Her sanity was threatened and tested to the limit. She held on with her whole being and learned. When all finally became quiet again, the dragons faded, and Glenfel felt sick inside. She had been altered forever. She had also been given a quest.

This, all of "this" was a turning point. The battle for Olcana had been ever pressing. The constant threat of a main attack was over, and the mêlée finished. It had not gone well, none of it. Yet, the power let loose by the evil all around the runner must have woke, her latent racial lines. The Armilander, if she dared call herself that and accept what it meant, predestined the war was not over.

Then, real sleep consumed her. Glenfel needed it. She needed to rest. There were so many things to think about. Yet, there was precious little time.

HOME

Chapter Eight-The Gift

The sun was low, and Glenfel's eyes ached. They were painful beyond belief just to open. The throbbing in her shoulder and leg had somewhat subsided. Glenfel could even move her arm a bit better than before. She forced her heart back from the far side of reality. Glenfel pushed the dragon dreams and ancient memories aside too. There was only the here and now to focus on. To her relief, the ugly touch of Fandran's magic was gone entirely. Either it had been the presence of the big warrior that scooped her up or the dragons from her past, latent memories which freed her from evil's spell, or both.

Annon sat silently next to her. She had not moved but seemed to sleep quietly throughout the day. His attention had been divided equally between her and the valley below. Now the night had closed in and brought with it the rats once again, in full force. The fighter had built no fire for he did not wish to attract their attention. He had watched nature take its course before his eyes. There had been a great feeding feast of carrion and scavengers all that afternoon. Now the conquerors had returned to take their spoils. The teacher had told him to remain one full day beyond the battle but had not said why. Shendar was always vague. It was annoying.

The fifth Prince of the Isle of Kings had seen much. More death than he wanted that was for sure. Annon had thought the mutant had died at one point. Her chest had stopped moving for many moments. He had checked her heart, and to his surprise, it still beat. Slow and steady. The wounds she had received were fairly severe. There was a gash along her upper shoulder that ran deep for several inches. When he opened her robe and ripped her tunic aside, Annon had found his stomach churned at the site. This was not the first time he had patched up a warrior, but it was one of the worst he had seen. For her to have been able to walk away from the field of battle at all was a small miracle. Besides her deep gashes, she had half a dozen or more, smaller cuts too. Annon had used all the salves and medicines that he had carried in his saddle to dress them.

There was a significant bump on the back of her head. It would have killed most fighters. Now, Annon watched and waited. He noted the sky in the distance. It threatened rain. The sun had lost the battle to the new oncoming clouds from the north. This was a harsher storm then the last. Lightening lit the distance at times, with flashes of bright white. Several moments later the thunder would roll. This land had more than its share of foul weather he pondered. Annon longed for the Isle of Kings just a little. At least there the sun showed its lovely face a bit more often. Annon had sat close to the girl to provide her his own warmth. "Girl?" Yes, he thought to himself. She did not seem very old to him. No matter her age, she must be very brave indeed to have been part of the Elves force at arms.

Glenfel croaked more than spoke out loud, "Annon, why do you want to be a paladin?" Her question was so unexpected it took him a long while to answer. Through slit eyes, she peered at him intently. He was strong, a warrior of many battles that had left scars upon his youthful face. It was still a handsome face but hardened. His fur-lined cloak lay beneath her still. She noted his generosity. It was a welcome comfort. The woolen blanket that he had provided to cover her body was a luxury to be sure. Glenfel had been cold for so long, that its warmth and that of his body next to hers, had probably saved her life. That above any medicines he may have used. The ice, cold night ahead would bite hard even with such provisions. She longed for summer but it was a lifetime away, or it seemed like it to her. Glenfel would be lucky at this rate to make it through the next few days ahead at all.

"How do you know my name and how long have you been awake?" Annon's reply was filled with suspicion. Glenfel noted that his hand strayed to the long knife he kept at his belt. The Prince knew she was not a direct threat in her current condition, but he was not about to let his guard down. He had saved her that was true. However, as he recalled she had not been too friendly at receiving his help. Or truthfully, maybe he had not been altogether happy that he had helped her. If that were so then, they both had a lot of ground to cover to meet as friends.

"I have only just awakened. I know your name from the ax you carry and the great, black whip at your side. I know their history. The elders keep track of such things. Will you now answer my questions?" A hard, dull ache in the back of her head throbbed with her return to consciousness. The gash in her side made breathing hard, and painful the more alert and awake Glenfel became. However, these were only inconveniences. Being alive at all was a small miracle. She would not take that gift for granted.

"I want to avenge the life of a friend." His tone was hushed and somewhat reserved. Annon still kept an alert eye on the valley below as he answered. He divided his attention evenly now but still did not perceive the girl to be much of a threat. No matter, he would not take chances. "Shendar was my teacher. He told me to come here, and to watch the valley. I have done as he asked. You were simply an accident. I did not feel that the charn should be allowed to take even one more life. That is if I could stop it. So I did."

"Who will you exact vengeance from? Fandran?" Glenfel returned in a low whisper. "Many hate him, but he is really just a man. You would more correctly call him a mutant, but their blood is red too. In the end, he is still just a man." Glenfel moved to set up slightly. Annon's blanket fell away, and he noted the bandage on her side showed fresh signs of blood. It had seeped through. If she continued to move around, the hole in her side would surely become larger.

"Lay still now or all that I have mended will be for nothing." He scowled at her slightly. "Yes, to answer your question. Fandran will pay. He will pay with his own life!" Annon's tone was filled with mounting anger. He did not like the tone of the questions he was being asked, that is from a total stranger. "Mind what I said. You had best not move around too much. I don't want my cloak stained." Annon was not really too concerned about it, but treating her gently at the moment felt wrong. He had saved her life, what did it matter to her why. A little respect and gratitude would be a bit more in order, to his way of thinking.

A wave of dizziness engulfed Glenfel. Perhaps it had been from the loss of blood, but she knew she would recover. It passed. "I do thank you for saving my life brave fighter." She tried to smile in her own fashion of course. He had done far more than he knew by intervening against the will of the fates. Glenfel's words took him just a little off guard.

"Could she read his mind?" He asked himself silently. The fighter had heard of such things among the mutants. If that were so then, she would not need to question him at all? The girl would take her answers from him. No, Annon was not afraid. In many ways, she was no different then Drellin. So he was glad she had not died.

Desperation and the need to know drove her on. Glenfel had to push this man. "If you kill Fandran, the pain and death brought into this world by the blackness will remain. He is only part of the problem." Glenfel waited a few moments for her words to sink in, she hoped. Then, continued. "You do not know me. You do not have to believe me, but I speak the truth. Do not fight Fandran for your victory would be at best an empty one. Paladins, true paladins, fight for the Light. Your enemy is the blackness itself. It is that which destroys all things." She took a long slow breath. This was important. "Fandran is only a man; you must know that. Like any other man gone mad, he craves power. I believe you seek more than that. Let me now help you as you helped me." Glenfel needed him. She felt it was somehow more than a coincidence that he had saved her from sure death. Beyond that, it was hard to see how they were connected, but there was a bigger picture. There was a future and destiny possible now that Glenfel had never conceived of before. "Please, look into my eyes, and I will show you what you can not see."

Annon turned toward her. His attention refocused on Glenfel solely, drawn away from the valley below. "How can you help me see?" He felt defensive, but her comforting gaze was similar to Drellin's. Glenfel's hand brushed his slightly, and it was warm. It was real. A reality he had forgotten coupled with the essence of kindness. One of humanity's finest facets, regardless of race was their depth of emotion.

"Please look into my eyes. You helped me. I would have died in the valley had it not been for you. Let me give you something in return. A gift I never knew I had until now to give." Mentally remembering the image of the golden dragon, the runner re-focused on the man. "It would have been lost if it had not been for your bravery and compassion." Glenfel did smile clearly this time, which was an unusual event for her. Then she grasped his hand in hers.

The Prince met her deep gaze. Glenfel's eyes drew him in like huge pools of black oil. He could feel the emptiness of Drellin as it overcame him. The emptiness of his heart, Annon had fought so long to control and drive back now consumed him. The intense emotion threatened to overwhelm him. He could also feel the strong vengeance he carried. He desired, he hungered for Fandran's blood. It was easy to picture his hands gripped around the ugly man's throat taking life's breath away forever. Annon wanted it badly, to the core. Fandran had taken Drellin's life and even, taking his in return was not really enough. What Annon wanted? He wanted to turn back time and go back. He wanted to change what was.

Then, like a warm embrace, Annon bathed in truth. It covered him and calmed him. He looked even deeper into her black eyes. The fighter was swept away by a current of pure emotion. The man no longer saw the runner he had been with only moments before, but instead, it was his love, Drellin. She was leaned over, looking into a pond as blue as the sky in spring. Annon stepped toward her. He heard a voice soft upon the wind, "No, you may not touch her. Look upon the things you have quested after for so long and speak to your future."

Drellin turned to face Annon. She was so striking. Her soft, silken voice broke the silence of the clearing in which they both now stood. "I love you. Never doubt that. I had never loved anyone until you. I never dared to think I would." The woman smiled. "You were the best of my short life. Fandran cannot take that away, nor can the darkness itself. I never knew happiness until I met you." The image faded. Tears edged the corners of his eyes, but did not fall. Annon missed her so fiercely.

Another image took Drellin's place. There, before him, the Prince saw a man upon a great white horse. He looked closer and realized the horse was his own, Morgane. The man that road it was old without age, somehow timeless. Honestly, it was easy to see that he was a seasoned fighter. The scars that lined his face told of a lifetime filled with quest and adventure.

"Annon, you now gaze upon the shadow of a paladin who may yet be. He serves the life of this world, Arrel. The Light shines around him and through him. Beware him, become him, but never fear him. You saved me from death within the valley below. Now I return that. I am the Armilander." and with those words, the runner's image disappeared. In its place, a huge multicolored dragon stood. It dwarfed the man, as he was only a handful of paces from its gigantic head. Terror seized the fighter for a moment. He was merely a mortal. Dragons were legends. They were magical beasts that were never called upon by humans. That is, at least not humans who wished to keep their skins. "Look at me. I am called the Armilander in another time and place. Do not fear me! We need each. There is no room for trepidation." The rumble from the magnificent creature was low and oddly comforting. It eased his mind and heart. Could this being be more than beast?

The big man found his voice, "How can I help one such as you?" Annon gazed in awe at the beast. His legs were a bit shaky, but to his relief they stayed firmly beneath him. It was a tribute to his years as a warrior. Few things surprised him, but this shook him differently. It was reality and magic in the same place, at the same moment. It made him questioned his boundaries and beliefs.

"You already have, once. Now, you have set yourself upon a path that leads to a future not yet grasped even by the elders. Listen, closely brave Sir. Something wonderful has happened. It is hard to explain. Know one sure thing, the darkness can be stopped. When you stepped out and helped a stranger, you set into motion a new path. My death would have ended a cycle, now there are new possibilities.

The dreaming has allowed me to know what is needed. My ancestors have passed their unaltered history to me, that I may reclaim it. I am set to find the Dragon's Heart. It is a stone no mortal should possess. It lies in the hands of the one you call Fandran. However, he is not in power alone. There is a creature called a Catelaran. It is an immortal beast. Fandran has become part of that thing, part of that being. They use each other. Together they meet as one and complete the darkness, thereby giving it renewed strength. It grows like a cancer, on the land.

The big man stayed silent.

I need to tell you a story, from another time. It was a sad era for Arrel. Long ago the paladins fought the darkness. They were losing the war. When the blackness began to spread over the land uncontrolled, the Catelaran's greatest weapon was plague. Even the paladins knew real fear then. It was found that females were less prone to death by the ugly sickness. In an effort to survive all the paladins were to have daughters. Malacon, a great paladin from that time, was a vain man. He refused to have a daughter. Malacon wanted a son and did not care what the cost would be. He had his wife enchanted with dark magic, that she would only have a boy. Malacon stole the Kardia, the "Heart" to pay the wizard for his services. Then, when the man fell to the darkness, to the Catelaran, the stone went with him.

At that reckoning, not one but two sons came. Fandran was one. He was born twisted and deformed, as you know him to be. All who live in the north know him. He fell to the darkness because this land does not accept those who are different. Catelaran had little trouble enticing him. When Fandran traveled to the Tower of Qualer, called or more correctly, beckoned by the beast itself, he found the old wizard still there. He stole his wand. The Dragon's Heart was still embedded within it.

A low rumbled continued. "My ancestors' memories tell me that the Tower of Qualer is even now still the ancient home of the Catelaran. You wish to be a paladin? You desire to avenge your love? I wish to have what is now mine by birthright." The beast drew itself up to full height. "Join me, and together we will have what we both seek." Glenfel released his hands, and Annon found he was back on the cliff that overlooked the valley of death. The woman before him had somehow changed. He could see her clearer than before. The abnormal facial ridges did not detract from her beauty as much as her serious visage.

"There is much to consider." Annon looked away briefly and raced over what he had just seen in his mind. "I do not know all of what Shendar had planned. I was supposed to be here. I was to be here this day at this time. Beyond that, my path was indistinct. I want to avenge my love, Drellin. My life now has meaning that I had thought lost forever. You have given that to me. Since my first steps took me to the valley floor to save you, it seems I have been thrust upon a new course. We are well met and surely will be friends as it seems to be our futures are as one." He looked very serious and continued, "If this Catelaran is as evil as you say, then it too will die along with the man, or mutant known as Fandran." He glanced over her shoulder down into the valley. "Rest now for a little while, and we will leave at dawn. I will keep watch."

Home
Chapter Nine-Horse and Rider

The night slid by quietly. Time passed nearly unnoticed. Glenfel rested. The morning sun parted the dark clouds in places with again the promise of a better day. Annon was glad to see its light. He had told Shendar he would stay the full time, as set by his teacher, but that was over. As for himself, he would be thrilled to be away from this terrible place. The things Annon saw during the hours of darkness had been far more gruesome than the battle. He would not have believed that possible.

Annon had learned from his new companion much about this land and its legends. He had even gained a future for himself. Annon now understood the reason Drellin had done all that she had. Drellin had been one of the daughters. She had been born to follow in her father's footsteps. Dying for the Light had been the path of her life. Annon wanted to honor that, and thereby honor her memory.

By the time Glenfel finally woke from her deep sleep, Annon had already cleaned up the area and packed their small camp. He helped the young woman up and lifted her to the saddle of his huge warhorse. To her surprise, the animal did not fidget in any way. Horses, in general, had a funny extra sense about things. Few would let her close to them, much less be a rider. That was the ultimate irony of ending up on Shilon's horse. Thel and the elders were so smart. When they had given the horse to Shilon in the first place...had they known? Bota had been accepting of the runner from the beginning. She had lost him now. Glenfel had scared so many poor beasts in the past. It was a real miracle to have found yet another mount that would tolerate her. It made the runner glad to find this one last animal, if last he was? No great surprise that such as he, would belong to a paladin. Or, at least a man destined to be a paladin someday. The dreamscape memory of the great dragons flashed in her mind. It was a small epiphany. Horses knew her heritage long before she did herself. They had always known. The Armilander smiled. Yes. Horses did have excellent senses, better than she gave them credit for.

"We will ride to Shendar's home. From there we can make plans." Annon's voice was very matter of fact. "You told me what you are, but you did not tell me what I should call you." He looked up into Glenfel's unusual countenance and waited for her to answer. The sight of the runner did not seem to bother him as much this day as it had the first time Annon laid eyes upon her. Perhaps he had grown used to her looks a little. There was also now, a real person behind the face. In an odd way, she was rather beautiful. The ridges were a thing a person, any person would have to get used too. Yet since the Prince had been with Shendar, he had seen much.

"I am Glenfel in common." She winced in pain from her wounds but did not complain. Annon respected the young woman for that strength. Few fighters could have taken the beating she had and still stood. Glenfel was more than met the eye in many ways. "What do you call your horse?" She asked suddenly.

"His name is Morgane," Annon answered with pride. "He is from a long line of good, stout breeds. We are friends." Annon reached up and caressed the horse's ears affectionately before he mounted. To his astonishment, Glenfel too caressed the horse with her free hand, lovingly. Morgane whinnied low in a soft, response. He showed no fear at all. Annon thought he heard a whispered word of praise from Glenfel. Then together, they rode. Glenfel went on in silence seated behind the big man on the wide saddle. Time was so short, yet so many things were still to be done.

Annon guided them in the direction of the Sarin Hills. That was the area where the valley slopped eastward and north. It was a good path to avoid the direct home of the charn. No one knew precisely where the barbarians were from, so it made it impossible to go around them. They would just have to be ready, he and Glenfel regardless. The land was at war. Most said the bad men came from deeper north than the charn. Annon was not going anywhere near that far.

The Maralan Forest was huge. It stretched from the coast on the west all the way to the Hard Line in the east. That was a massive set of mountains, no pass had yet been found to traverse. Annon liked the sound of that. Once he had done right by Drellin, Annon thought he might find some happiness as an explorer still. That made him smile. This new companion, Glenfel filled him with a sense of hope. That had been missing for a long time. Well, since Drellin was murdered. The big man refused to let himself dwell on that again. It had taken months to get this far. Now was not the time to go back. Glenfel was the future. Maybe that was why Shendar had sent him to the valley post in the first place? The old man was always several steps ahead of events. Annon had not figured out how, but it was a fact.

The woods around the travelers were quiet and empty of wildlife. Perhaps it had been the charn that had scared everything off or the great fire had driven everything away? It was still eerie. Each step took them closer to Nelmont Faire. That was the name of the old, ruin. A standing set of stones, formed in a straight line by nine giant boulders. At each end, smaller rocks were spread out to form arrowheads, one pointing northwest and the other southeast. The original builders had disappeared ages ago. Not even the Timekeepers were altogether sure what had happened to them. No one was clear on the reason for the symbolic double arrow. It had been there so long, no one cared.

The monument if that is really what it was, had stood the test of time. It was now used as a gathering spot for the students of this land. Many were mutants, half-breeds and the like, but there were also other pupils. Ones sent by their families to learn the law and to be trained. Those were often humans of high breeding. They were the sons and daughters of kings mostly. The forest teachers were a unique lot in that they provided a balance between the races. They taught according to skill and intelligence rather than shape or skin color. The elders could pick and choose who would receive and who would be denied. That made some angry, and others were glad. Better to have a teacher that does not care what, or who you are in the eyes of the world. All benefit from unbiased equality.

Shendar lived in a small dwelling built in the high rocks that cradled this end of the valley. Nelmont Faire was convenient to the cause of his work. Annon wanted to see the old man one last time before going where Glenfel may need him to. Besides, Shendar would be waiting. He was confident that the old man would not have a problem with the runner. The teacher accepted all with equal hospitality. Telling him about his new mission in life, well that might not set as well. Annon was a little sorry inside. He enjoyed being around the old man.

Time had found Shendar and aged him beyond his years, but death? It had ridden past without thought of a visit. He had been Drellin's teacher. To hear him talk there was a long line of students in his history. He never clearly named them, but he often told stories of great heroes with references to his own teachings. It made one think he had been around for centuries. After Drellin's death, he had taken Annon on as his student willingly. The fact that he was human did not bother Shendar at all. He had taught them as well, in equal measure to all the rest.

Several days passed as Annon and Glenfel, traveled back into the hills. Still the quiet remained as if no creature wished to stir and break the ominous spell. The further they went the clearer the sky became above them. The awful ash lingered and made the air hard to breathe at times. It would be many long days and nights before the heavens were full of stars again. The smell would take even longer to leave the land. And the dead? The sorrow of the loved ones gone...?

On the fifth day, they still had found no game. Annon had rations in his saddlebags, but Glenfel refused his offers to share. That same night by the fire he tried again to no avail. "You will be too weak if you do not eat," Annon said and crossed to sit by her side. Her wounds were healing nicely, but the ride was hard on her. Annon changed her bandages the best he could but had long since run out of salve or medicine. The fresh water he carried was also nearly gone. The mud on the ground was not a valid water source to refill. Ash from the sky, made the world at large, ugly and tainted. Annon thought the land may never recover. That was probably not true, as green things renew. The man was thinking more about the people and the character of the land. A monumental change had occurred. The effect the elves had on Arrel was irrevocably diminished. "That", than was grievous indeed.

Glenfel's low voice broke Annon's thought path. "My body is not like yours. Do not worry. I will be okay. I can still ride with you. Morgane is gentle, and I can keep up." The runner's reply was soft. She again did not complain; but instead, lay down quietly upon his cloak. He had placed on the ground for her. They had stopped to rest a while. The companions no longer spoke about the visions Glenfel had shown Annon. It was as if in doing so was somehow taboo. Perhaps it would have simply, cheapened the gift? Annon decided it would be better to respect her silence for now. He had so many questions, but Glenfel appeared weak and distant. Considering her state, he would wait.

Another night passed without incident. By early morning they were once again upon their way. At noonday, they were halfway to the hillcrests, which marked the beginning to the Sarin Hills. Annon wanted to stop and allow Glenfel to have a break. The runner was weaker than ever that was obvious. Glenfel's wounds were taking a severe toll on her body. Riding has they were, was not allowing them to heal. Annon pulled up on Morgane's reigns and halted in a small clearing.

The runner tapped him softly on the shoulder knowing his intention. "Annon," Glenfel whispered low. "Let us go on. We are followed."

"How do you know?" Annon replied quietly in return. The fighter had been careful all along to conceal their tracks as he could. That was hard considering he needed speed, yet stealth was necessary. He had used his best forest skills to stay to his goal. He tried to pick out any hint of pursuit but found none. The man saw nothing and heard nothing.

"I can not explain how, but I know. It must be the charn. Whatever, or whomever it is, we have a problem. You will have to trust me on that account. " Glenfel looked back in the direction they had just come from between the tall pines. She pulled the hood of her cloak back from her head. She fanned her ears full and forward. Then closed her eyes and searched with her whole being. Annon watched carefully and held Morgane steady. He did not rush her. As he watched, Annon felt compelled to stare. Glenfel was not even near human, but a mix he had never seen. In his time with Shendar, the fighter had come across many, but none like her. This, dragon in a vision? How could that even be true? The questions in the Prince's mind grew steadily. One actual fact, there was much more to this runner than just appearances being unique. This country had more than once changed his view of the world.

"Do you know how far?" Annon could wait no longer. He broke the silence and kicked the horse slightly in the sides. Morgane moved on down the path. Annon did not push the horse to run. He did not want to give away the fact the trackers had been discovered.

"No. I do not know how far exactly. They are closer then a days ride. Perhaps even nearer than that my friend. It is best that we should keep moving and not stop for a time. If I am wrong and they are only heading the same way we are, not actually following us, then it is best to stay well ahead. There are few strangers in these woods that one would easily call a friend." Glenfel placed her arms around Annon's waist and pressed close to his backside. It was not a romantic embrace, but one of necessity.

The woman closed her eyes and tried to keep one part of her mind alert and trained on the trail behind them, and the other focused on just staying in the saddle. Annon knew as much by her actions. He laid his free hand across her arms and tried to steady her. She felt small next to him. His memory of the dragon was more like a hallucination with each days passing. This young girl could not be the thing he saw. Glenfel was special that was sure, but to size up her small, lithe body and the image in his mind together, was impossible.

They rode on until dusk. Annon never did see or hear anyone following them. The Prince still believed Glenfel. They had known each other a very, short time, but he was sure, Glenfel was an excellent fighter. She was well learned in forest survival. The runner had made it through the battle in the valley and lived to tell about it. Sure with a little help in the end from him. Yet, to have made it at all was a miracle.

The sky above had only a few clouds, but the threat of more rain had vanished for now. The cold, however, was not gone. It was still very chilly here in the northern reaches. Glenfel shivered slightly against Annon even wrapped in both her own cloak and his heavy one draped on top. Annon thought again about stopping for the night when they rode into a new nightmare. The clearing they entered was not more than twenty or thirty paces across, but the bodies of elves and charn alike filled it. The smell of death was heavy here for the battle had been recent. It was an awful stench to be sure. The land, all of it, was at war. Annon had seen more then he cared for, but knew it was just beginning.

Glenfel slid from behind the big man to the hard ground. Pulling back her hood she closed her eyes. With all of her being, she listened. "Someone is running. It is not a charn. It is an elf I think, or perhaps a human." Her matter of fact tone was not to be questioned.

"Which direction? How far away?" Annon said briskly. There was an edge to his manner. If it was not an enemy, then he or she may need help. The Prince was ready. He may not be a paladin, but his heart was true. No one was going to die on his watch if he could help it.

Opening her eyes, Glenfel raised her hand in a quick gesture. "North, not far. You can catch her if you hurry. She will tire shortly." Glenfel seemed solemn in answering. Her voice reflected both her pain and exhaustion, rolled into one. He thought for a moment that he should not leave her.

"Come then!" Annon held out his hand for her to remount.

"I will wait here for you. There seems to be no one else around that I can tell. The feeling from the south is still real. They are far away yet. It will be safe enough here for the moment, and I am exhausted." She looked him straight in the eye and could see he was undecided. "I will wait for you here." Glenfel gave him a sharp, matter of fact look to end the conversation. The runner could tell that was not working, so she tried one last time, in a softer voice, "It will be better to sit a while on something that does not move." Annon finally realized that arguing the point with her would be fruitless. It felt a whole lot like disagreeing with Drellin. He did not want to leave her. Making a final decision, Annon kicked Morgane's flanks and moved swiftly out of the clearing and headed up the path.

"I need to learn as much as I can about this pack," Glenfel mumbled to herself as she watched him go. "The charn threat is still growing. They may overrun us all before too long." She knew there were still men and their families in the high hides. As long as anyone was left, it was worth fighting. Glenfel spoke out loud but to herself. She searched the area and examined the bodies of the fallen. The fact was that if things kept going there would be no one left to fight. Her empty middle gave voice to her present hunger. Glenfel knew she needed to eat badly. She tried to push that to the back of her mind, but the gnawing sensation was challenging to disregard. "First, things first." She tried to focus. Search the bodies of the charn and find out all that she could. Who was driving them? Who were these men that could control such animals? How can she help the people of the north?

Annon rode hard for a short while. Then he slowed to a steady pace. He did not want to ride into a problem, or scare the victim further. The man strained his eyes to find the fugitive. The path was hard to read because of the growing dark. The forest was also very dense here. "Come out of hiding! I know you are here. I am not going to harm you!" Annon waited. He hoped that whoever it was could see him clearly enough. "My Ax is tied and resting in its sheath. My long blade is put away. You are safe. My friend said you were out here. Show yourself!" He tried to be as calm and pleasant as he could. The fighter was sure he was close. His inner hunter instincts told him as much.

Suddenly an arrow shot passed him out of the trees. It missed him by only a hands length. He felt the wind of its passing and heard the singing sound of the shaft next to his ear. "Stop where you are stranger! Do not move. Who are you and why do you track me." The voice was cold like ice, but the pitch betrayed youth. "The next one will not miss!" That threat seemed real enough no matter how young the speaker might be.

"My name is Annon. I came to help you as I said, but I think I was mistaken. You need none." He turned Morgane slowly toward the voice of his assailant. Annon did not want to make his attacker even edgier if that were possible. He was quite sure the first arrow had missed on purpose. Well, at least he liked to think so.

"Forgive me, Sir. I thought you to be another." The beautiful girl stepped out from the thick trees into plain sight. Even with the fading light of dusk he could still make her features out reasonably well. Her gown was torn in a dozen places, but its remnant yet told of splendor and finery. Her hair was tangled but fell about her neck and shoulders in long, golden brown strands. As Annon looked into her eyes, his heart pounded violently. He told himself that it was a trick. It was a bad, trick. With his right hand, he rubbed his eyes hard to clear his vision. The girl just stood there and watched. She was real!

"Drellin?" He stammered out. Annon's heart beat hard in his chest. It could not be. It just could not be! If this were a magic trick, he was going to do foul things to the wizard that was responsible. His heart was just too centered on the past. He pushed it aside.

"Who?" The girl's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I don't know you, Sir! Are you here to harm me?" She tried to stand a bit taller. The fighter did not look like he was going to attack, but he was acting very odd for a hero that had come to save her.

"Forgive me. You resemble a friend I have not seen for a long time." It could not be Drellin. He knew that for sure. He also came to believe it was not a magic trick either. There was no foul taint to the girl's presence. The problem was telling that to his heart was going to be near, impossible. It had been over three full turns of the seasons since his love had died. Until now, however, Annon did not understand fully that his grief would never be lessened in his lifetime. He would carry it forever. That was the best and worst thing to know. Annon smiled.

"My name is Dalina." Her voice quivered a little. She was scared. That was obvious. It had not been his motive to add to her fear. Annon was embarrassed. His best intentions had gone amiss. It seemed up to this point he had made it his mission to save damsels in trouble a habit. If "that", was a quality of a Paladin? Then, he was well on his way. That made him, want to laugh out loud. He did not. She would not understand.

"That is mistflower in common, is it not?" Annon paused for effect. He was trying to put on his best manners. She must be royalty of some kind, or at least she looked it by her clothing. "It is a lovely name. Who was it you thought was tracking you, a charn?" He carefully watched that beautiful face for reactions with every question. "Why were you and your companions out here in the first place? This forest is dangerous." Annon knew she was measuring him as well. In turn, he tried to make his voice sound calm and reassuring. She did look like Drellin, but she was younger, much younger. Hearts were wicked all on their own, at times. It did not matter. The man reminded himself to let it go.

"I know not his name Sir, but he is an evil man and set upon my death. The creatures were under his direction. That fact I am sure. My guards and I were attacked by surprise. Lithk told me to run. He pushed me aside. Father would be proud of him." The girl chocked back a sob. "He's been my guardian, my whole life. He was under orders to bring me to the City of Olcana. A stout man, Lithk was..." Her voice trailed off, and tears weld up in her eyes. She fought to hold them back. "Are they all dead?" Annon could see Dalina was not ready for that answer.

"Come, we will talk along the way," Annon moved his horse forward and offered his hand down and out for her to mount behind him. "If those that attacked you are still around, I want to return to my companion before they stumble back across her." Dalina lowered the bow and arrow, which looked out of place in contrast to her once beautiful dress. She held up the weapon to Annon, and he accepted it. He attached it to his saddle. Then he again extended his hand and Dalina hesitated only a moment longer before accepting. Annon took the reigns of his horse with both hands and kicked Morgane's flanks lightly. The horse trotted back toward the clearing. The girl rode close behind him. She wrapped both her arms tightly about his middle. She was shaking, he could feel it.

The clearing was empty upon Annon's return with the girl. There were no further new signs of fighting, yet Glenfel must have had good reason to leave without notice. Something happened to her. He knew he should not have left her and mentally kicked himself for being such a fool. He slid down from the saddle and swiftly searched about for signs. He looked for anything that would help him find out what had occurred. His tracking abilities were good, but there was nothing. Annon's heart sank to think he had only left for a short while and now she too was gone from him, just like Drellin. Annon held back a deep depression that threatened to overwhelm him. It felt like the more he moved down the so-called "Path of his destiny," the more life sent him obstacles of defeat.

"Where is your friend, Annon?" Dalina's eyes were clouded with unspent tears. The terrible sight of her friends' deaths all around her was simply too much. It was hard to look at those she cared for all her life, in pieces on the forest floor. It had been a fierce battle and Dalina knew she was lucky just to be alive. Her guardian had saved her life by sending her running into the trees. That was a brave thing to do. She would make sure that her father knew of his actions. His family would be cared for and held in high regard forever.

"Where did you say you were going, before you were attacked?" Annon spoke over his shoulder as he studied the ground more closely still. He could find nothing to lead him forward. Annon was beside himself. Why did this happen to him? First Drellin, now Glenfel? The despair Annon felt inside was intense, and changing to outright anger. In a way, that helped him to deal with the situation in a more constructive manner. The Prince told himself that he would simply add these new foes to the list that grew daily in his life. It was a list of "darkness" that Annon would consume with the Light by his actions soon enough. He asked himself out loud, "How could this happen?" Not really expecting an answer. It was just his level headed side, trying to put some sense to all of it. Every time the man had gotten close to anyone, this type of thing happened. Annon thought hard about the path ahead. His future and even his destiny were changing so fast so often, he felt adrift in unknown waters.

"It happened because of me. My father wanted me back." Dalina had heard Annon and thought he had asked her the question. "I was sent to be a student in the Sarin Hills two moons ago. Since that time, the charn and even the shadow riders have attacked in increasing numbers. Father felt I needed to be home with family. So, he sent for me. Lithk died trying to help me get back home." The girl was crying now, openly as she spoke. Annon thought that he was right about her and his first impression. Dalina was young. She was also innocent. That would not be a quality she kept for long in this forest. "Tamdrac! We were going home to Tamdrac. It is a great city on the coast to the west." Dalina's voice became a bit stronger as she spoke of her birthplace.

Standing quickly, Annon gazed hard, one last time at the surrounding trees and pathways. The future, his future seemed more unpredictable than ever. A decision must be made and the dark of night was not waiting for him to make it. It was growing harder to see. Therefore he decided swiftly, wrong or right, it did not clearly matter. Shendar would have to wait for him. Glenfel would have to take care of herself by necessity, and that left only Dalina. Not much of a choice. "I will take you there. I will take you to Tamdrac." Annon walked to his horse and mounted. He kicked Morgane's flanks lightly. They moved off into the pines. After a short while he asked, "Where? Where is Tamdrac exactly?"

Dalina smiled, even if Annon could not see it. "Home is in the west. Keep going." The two rode on into the night. The girl was quiet and subdued. Annon thought she might even have fallen asleep? It did not matter really. He simply rode on forward. The fighter felt helpless. No matter what path he took, he could not succeed.

"Shendar, I did exactly what you said. Well, maybe not exactly." Recalling he had entered the valley to save Glenfel. That had not been part of the plan. Maybe it was a variable after all in the larger picture. The fighter hoped so. Remembering the visions, that Glenfel had shared, and the events of his life on the mainland, mingled together like a bad dream. The death and killing from the last few days left the man exhausted. Still, Annon rode on.

HOME

Chapter Ten-Tricks and Traps

Only moments after the sounds of Annon's horse had faded, Glenfel heard the fighter's voice call back, "Glenfel it is a trap!" Turning, she pulled her blade and followed. Her instinct and adrenalin helping to power her already overtaxed body. No more than a hundred paces from the clearing, the trail split into two distinct directions. Even Glenfel could not easily tell for sure which way her companion had gone. Glenfel heard his voice again, distant and unclear. That decided the route she must take. The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up. There was something very wrong about the whole situation. Yes, it was a trap. But how many was it meant to catch? Glenfel did not, however, have time to think too much about it. Annon had saved her life and she would help him at any cost.

The pain in her shoulder increased with every breath and regrettably slowed her pace. Glenfel ran forward following the path as fast as she could muster. Even hindered by her present condition, Glenfel covered more ground then most could, in good health. Then she found clear signs of charn, fresh. The trail was getting steeper too.

The cold was numbing the pain of her wounds. "Funny" Glenfel thought. She hated the weather, but for the moment it was actually helping her. It was so chilly that there was snow in patches on the ground. The trail Glenfel followed led up the steep side of Rolnak. That was one of the many low peaks which marked the range. In a way, it was a joke to call them hills at all. The titans of old must have given them that name. They were far from hills in any real description. They were mountains worn down by eons of harsh storms. They were still mountains by most standards. Soon Glenfel saw charn too, alive and well. The forest crawled with them. Glenfel picked her way forward cautiously. It was early, near dawn.

At least thirty animals had made camp in the large meadow near the Whisper Wells. That was the first fresh water available on this side of the range. There were always streams from storms and puddles, but this was different. There was a great stone arch at the top, hundred paces or better across with a natural bowl shape at the bottom nearly twice that size. Water had somehow worn it into a cup, fed below the surface. The titan sized chalice used to pulse upward to the sky from time to time, but no longer. The water that still filled the ever flowing well was clear and warm.

The clearing around the Wells was like an oasis. There were greener plants and things that found life here bearable that only a few yards out would not be possible. The place was a bubble in a rough, harsh cold, land.

Annon had been hooded and tied to a tree. His horse Morgane was nowhere to be seen. That was sad, Glenfel had liked that animal. Charn, eat horses. They were known for it. For that matter, charn eat just about anything. Glenfel sat and watched from her hidden vantage point for a long time. "Why would they put a hood on him? They were going somewhere he should not see the entrance to? Maybe, their home? Secret or not I shall not wait to find their hole." Shaking her head at the visions brought forward unwillingly by her ancestor's memories. They all echoed the same; the charn had been an enemy for a long time. Glenfel cleared her thoughts. She prepared to do battle. The odds were only going to get worse. Now was the time.

The runner removed Annon's cloak and laid it neatly on the ground beside the gray bolder she had used for cover. "Thank you, my friend, it was warm." She spoke low to herself remembering the paladin's thoughtfulness. Yes, he had already earned that in her eyes. He had changed the direction of time. The man had saved her life and there would be ripples from that affect. Changes in things that were unexpected even by Time Keepers. The strange beings that few spoke of but all knew. The historian's of Arrel. The ancestors in her own past told her as much.

Glenfel then removed her own stained cloak and sat it next to the first. She had kept downwind just in case. The smell of blood from her wounds and clothing would be picked up quickly as soon as she changed her position. Glenfel knew that from all of her past experience. She hefted her blade and made ready. The law was clear. Annon had saved her life, and now she would save him. Amusing, the runner knew inside that she would attack even without the law. In the short, time, Glenfel had been with the fighter, her heart had grown used to his company. It was unclear if that was a good or bad thing for the future. It was clear that he had already shown her more empathy, and compassion then most she had known before. That was rare. That was worth dying for.

Surprise was on her side, but the enemies numbered many. The next few moments of her life became a blur. The runner had gathered all that remained of her strength and then without further hesitation, sprang into the midst of the beasts. She hacked and slashed until the color of blood blinded her eyes. Then all was quiet. No more screeching. No more screaming. Glenfel moved with great stealth toward Annon. That was the end, however. She could not remember further than lifting the hood from his brow only to find it to be a stranger. It had not been Annon at all. They had trapped her. They had done a good job, even if it had cost them many of their own.

Time passed. The light of the new day brought her back to reality slowly. Pain racked her body and demanded her attention. The peaceful bliss of unconsciousness was gone. Glenfel found her self now tied, spread-eagled upon the ground. Large wooden stakes held her arms and legs tight. All the feeling in both her hands was gone entirely. The clearing was the same one she had entered earlier that morning. The dead beasts had been piled together near the trees she had come through to attack.

"You are awake? Ah, that is good. You will be worth much more alive than just a skin upon my poles." It was an ugly human face that stared down at her. The man had a twisted smile and a semi-toothless grin. His breath misted in the cold air as Glenfel watched. He played his left hand lovingly over a slave band, he held tightly in his right fist. "You will make an interesting prize." His eyes were dark. "You will make me rich."

Glenfel lay quiet and observed her captor intently. She tried to remember exactly what had happened. The runner noted the man's clothes. They were all black, and very dirty. He was a barbarian. That must be the only reason the charn had been with him. They had joined forces, the men and the beasts. But this was different somehow. This man seemed to be acting on his own, outside any pack or line of command. Perhaps he was, in fact, a barbarian, now turned slaver? That was not too uncommon. A privateer in this neck of the woods would not be anything unusual at all.

He leaned down with the collar band open to within inches of Glenfel's face. The ugly slaver drooled as he continued to speak, "You will make me rich, so rich. You better! You cost me enough in my friends there." He waved toward the pile of dead creatures awkwardly. "I have only a few left, and believe me they don't come cheap." There was a long pause as if he were thinking hard about something. "You are not much to look at for a female. It has been a long time since I have had a woman." His dirty hand brushed her cheek, and the collar came closer. Then the man fell forward onto her prone body. Blood ran from the arrow wound in his back. She could smell his dying breath on her face. It stunk. There was real, shock in his eyes as they rolled to the back of his head.

Screeching filled the air, but it was not the sound of triumph but of pain. The few charn that were still left, the ones the slaver had referred to, were about to meet their end. The first of their number to respond to their leaders' death stood just in time to meet the arrow in his chest directly on. He joined the slaver in the afterlife as he fell backward onto the hard ground. The others saw their companion hit the forest floor with the arrow protruding wickedly from his body and panicked. That made picking them off all that much easier. The remaining beasts tried to run in different directions, but not fast enough. Since they had no leader, it was easy to disperse them and kill them rapidly. Death rained down from the forest sky and more arrows met their marks. Soon Glenfel found herself the only one left alive. Her arms and legs pinned tight, she waited. She wondered what clean air smelled like. There had been just too much death of late, all around.

The killer and her savior one and the same came up silently from just out of her field of vision. The man stepped over the barbarian's body. Then he pulled the dead man's limp carcass from on top of hers. Glenfel could make no mistake when she finally saw the man, before her eyes. It was the same hunter she had saved in the pit. He leaned down on one knee. With his right hand, he pulled out a short dagger from his belt and cut the ties, which had held her fast. "Leave quickly before my friends come. They will kill you if you are lucky. If not they will enslave you as I once meant too." His face was a mixture of respect and sadness.

She rolled over and rose to her feet with some difficulty. She rubbed her wrists together and tried to gain the feeling in them back. "I will not forget." Glenfel wanted to express her thanks the best she could. Regrettably, words were never her strong, suite.

The bounty hunter stopped her in her tracks, "You saved my life. I only return that to you. Now leave before I forget my debt." He did not smile, but their eyes met. Glenfel knew this would cost him. It had already cost him his way of life. His way of thinking had changed. It was evident that the man had not exactly come to terms with that as yet. Perhaps he would someday, just not today. If one man could see a better way, could others? The runner had a flicker of hope. Could hope itself spread?

Glenfel turned to the path she had come down earlier to get to this place. She did not look back but moved quickly with purpose. It was easy to avoid the other two hunters. They were not nearly as experienced as the first. Glenfel could hear them in the forest passing close by as loud as a whole pack of charn. The hunter that saved her would have much explaining to do to his friends. She hoped it would not go too hard on him. The tiny fire that had nearly gone out completely, fed her energy. On foot, she was unusually fast, but not now. It was slow going. That is what being at war was, a constant drain until you die. Then there was that flicker. She focused on that. Hope was often just a flicker.

His two companions burst into the clearing only a few feet away from where Glenfel had exited it moments before. That almost made the hunter laugh, out loud. Perfect timing. The runner was right there, and neither one of them noticed her passing. They were not good at their profession. Why had he never noticed that until recently? Maybe the runner was too good at who or what she was? No. It was them. The man looked at his associates differently. Ever since he had joined back up with them, they had been poles apart. Why had he never seen it?

"Where is our prize?" Marlo huffed, out of breath from fighting the rats. He was not good with hand to hand, but he was great with a bow. He glanced around at his own handy work and was well pleased. The clearing was so drenched in blood from so many dead that there were only a few dry spots on the ground. Marlo liked to see things die. He had a dark way of thinking.

"She escaped." Tram briskly replied. His partner stared at him with a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. That was hard to believe. "Come let us go home." It was not just a statement but more like a command. It was the end of the story as far as the two men were concerned. Marlo did not ask again. He stopped starring and put away his own bow. The second hunter could tell he was not going to get anything else in the way of explanation on the subject. The man had known his cohort too long.

Chalt, the youngest of the three had been right behind the older man Marlo. He had been leading his own horse into the clearing with the two other mounts belonging to his friends. Chalt could fight, but not well. He was not good with hand to hand at all, so the bow and arrow was best. That is why they had not directly attacked. Marlo was still trying to keep the new man alive long enough to learn how to stay alive for himself. "Where is she?" He looked puzzled. He was relatively new to the hunt, but his will to learn was strong. There was money to be made in the slave trade. Chalt liked money.

"She got away!" Marlo replied evenly. There was no additional reproof toward Tram. He accepted his word.

That was not good enough for the younger hunter. "I found prints back there!" He sounded extremely proud of himself. All the while pointing back the way he had come. "We could catch her! She could not have gone too far. There is blood on the trail as well. She must be badly hurt." His eyes filled with greed and the overt ambitiousness of shaping years.

"No. She will soon leave none. We have lost her before. We would lose her again." That was a big fish story as stories go. Few would believe that she was that good. "We will return to Salor." Tram moved to the elfin horse he had been given days ago. That was a nice prize no matter what. "We have a long ride. Let us begin." He kicked the horse's flanks, and it sprung forward down the trail south. The others followed soon after. They were not happy.

HOME
Chapter Eleven-The Comforts of Home

It seemed to Annon that his plans changed with the coming of each new day. This one started as a watcher over the valley, and then it blossomed to a real task that would bring honor to his love. That again was replaced quickly by outside factors. He pressed Morgane to move forward. That he told himself was the direction of purpose. Annon could not leave Dalina in the forest. He could not take her to Olcana, it was gone. Tamdrac? He had read the name on the map in Shendar's keep. It was far, but necessary. With no sign of Glenfel, the best action was a straight path. Helping someone was the right thing to do. Well, it "fit "well, with his version of a knight. Annon found himself sitting a bit taller. That was after all his first goal. He wanted to bring honor to his family. Being the youngest son, you often have much to live up to in life. It was hard, just to be considered on the same level as your siblings.

Tamdrac was on the coast. That Annon was sure. He remembered the big map Shendar had in his study. Most of Arrel's North Country was visible and well lain out. That is except that of the high north, beyond the Maralan. The southern reaches were not very clear. There were a few main cities listed, but there were also large open areas of nothing. Shendar had told him that the further south the runner's went the greater the chance they were caught and killed. So the old man did not teach many the total history of Arrel. Annon had of course been overly interested, as he was not from the mainland. The Isle of Kings was a long way off. Annon had committed to this new land. He had committed to the Light. He needed to know all that entailed. Well, he thought he did anyway. What exactly that meant, was still unfolding in his life.

Presently Annon and the girl needed to move swiftly to the west. There were enemies that way. The reality was, there were enemies in every direction. Annon felt he had come to a land that had no peace at all. The Isle had been such a safe place growing up. It was hard to adjust to all the death he had seen. His world, or all that he thought it was, had been changed. Altered in a way, there was just no coming back from. Peace was dangerous without vigilance. Peace was easy to lose. Freedom was never free. Blood must be spilled, in its acquisition or it had no value. There was always a cost of some kind. Sadly, until the man had seen for himself, Annon would not have believed any of it. Death and more death everywhere he looked. A part of him wanted to run home. It would be returning to a good life. A life of comfort and pleasant living could be his but it sadly lacked any kind of true purpose.

A dark shadow passed over his soul. Could all of this happen to the Isle? Could this madness spread? Evil was growing. There was one certain factor. Annon was glad he had "purpose". Without it, life was empty. That is what had drawn him to the mainland in the first place. No matter what he did on the Isle, he would never have known fulfillment. The problem now was he had way more than he needed or ever wanted. The elves were at war, or what was left of them. The only choice was to defend or die at this point. Evil never gave options. It just consumed. Maybe that was the lesson that Shendar was trying to teach Annon? The old man had sent him to watch the battle. He was not supposed to take part. Yet, the teacher knew Annon would do precisely what he did. He grinned. The old man was way smart.

It had taken many days to ride to Tamdrac. Dalina and Annon had traveled hard the whole way. They had ridden both day and night, stopping and resting only by necessity. Morgane was indeed a horse from the old blood. He showed little sign of slowing but met his master's need with zeal. There had been troops of riders and packs of charn at every turn. The woods swarmed with enemies. By some miracle, they had not had to fight but instead had avoided being seen completely. Annon had used his every skill and experience to make it so.

The girl was quiet most of the time. Occasionally she cried softly but said little. The man believed she must be in shock. She barely responded.

The site of Tamdrac was a welcome one indeed for both travelers, more so for Dalina then Annon. Reaching the end of their journey was good. Tamdrac was an incredible city built into the rocky shores of a tremendous natural harbor. There were four towers. All were white as snow and appeared to hold up the sky. The deep blue-green sea beyond was calm and peaceful. It reminded Annon of the Isle of Kings in a fashion. For Dalina, she was home and the beam on her face that day was fit for a painting to be placed in the great hall.

However, for Annon, the good feeling ended there. He found himself in pieces. He felt as if he had abandoned Glenfel. His companion may even need him, still. What could he have done differently? The whole incident nagged at the back of his mind and plagued his heart. Annon swore to himself to make it right somehow. He needed to succeed in his battle against the darkness. He was more than tired of always being on the losing end. The "How" was going to be hard to know or even find out. The one sure thing was that Annon would not let another death in his life, mean nothing.

Dalina was a welcome sight for the King of Tamdrac. His daughter was everything in his eyes, and he let Annon know as much. It had been sad news for Lord Tolmant to find out his daughter's guardian had died by the hands of charn and raiders. Annon learned that the old man had been Tolmant's keeper. Also that of his own father as well, in his youth. The fighter suspected that Lithk was more than a human. His age would have given that fact away if anyone cared to think too hard on the matter. None did. In a way, Annon was glad. That fact meant that the runners were not totally unwelcome here in this place. Either by exception or by choice, Lithk had been treated like any other Citizen of Tamdrac.

There were many celebrations on Dalina's behalf that included the fighter as an honored guest. He was made a knight of the kingdom. Annon tried to explain to King Tolmant that he could not serve as a knight to this kingdom alone. It did not stop the King from giving him the title to show his appreciation. The profound honor of the moment was not lost on the Prince in the end. They, royalty and citizens alike, all went out of their way to make him welcome. He was a champion to them.

Dalina tried at every turn to lift the fighter's spirits. Annon could not bring himself to be happy. He needed to get back on the path of his destiny. Somehow that meant leaving Tamdrac, and heading back east and north, he knew. That was the direction of Fandran, barbarian raiders and the Charn. Then there was the beast, the runner had warned him existed? The Catelaran! Such evil's very continuation demanded that good men take a stand. All these were his sworn enemies, and he could not let that go. That path had been his choice after Drellin's death, and it still held him tightly even now.

The new moon had come and gone, Annon still found himself in the city. He had not meant to stay so long. Each day sped by, filled with music from the court. The Prince had nearly forgotten music altogether. There was dancing and even singing. The people knew peace here. They had survived untouched so far, from the real happenings of this land. It was the location of the city that helped keep things sheltered and quiet.

There was plenty to eat, and few did without, if any. Abundance was everywhere. The relative safety of there little harbor world was a bubble. Annon wondered how long it would remain so? He had been given rooms. Not one, but many. They were for his use to live in forever if he liked. The bed in his night chamber was soft beyond belief. As for a bed that was not rolled out on a patch of dirt, anything was an upgrade. This, however, was pure luxury.

The fighter was not blind. The King had no son. Lord Tolmant had made that very clear. He also had only one daughter, Dalina. That too, was gossiped about in hushed whispers everywhere Annon went. The people loved him and they made it apparent. The fact that their new hero, was also a true prince from another land? Well, that was right out of a fairy tale to these people. The man tried to be humble, as he felt he had simply done the right thing. Yet, a small part of him, somewhere deep had to admit that his father would be thrilled. At home, he would never rule. Here in this place, the very peer of the realm was ready to give him all he had. Anyone that was not tempted by such would be a liar or dead.

Well, he had saved the King's own daughter? You don't come by a hero every day? He could understand why Tolmant was so accepting of him. In one moment Tamdrac's ruler could have lost his daughter and the future of his kingdom's line. Now it had all kinds of new possibilities. Lord Tolmant had made many overt gestures of permanence with a future inclusive of his new son. The Prince felt fairly sure of himself, but the real man felt something else, a tangible, nagging sensation from the inside.

There was laughter, long missed by the man. The kind that sounds real, genuine to the heart. The "kind", that comes from a sure sense of "safe haven" which is rare indeed. Lastly, the laughter was like a tonic. It worked on easing his heart from the burdens he carried. The recollections of death and sadness eased. Annon had been lulled by the beauty and grandeur of the city. The people and especially Dalina were entrancing. Annon told his heart constantly that the girl was not Drellin. It became a battle inside, against his, own common sense. Annon was losing.

Tamdrac was located much further north along the coast, then the port of Jala. That was the point that Annon had first come to the mainland. It was not much of a place back then, just a fishing village really. He wondered with the current fighting and killing, if it still existed? The placement on the map in Shendar's keep had helped Annon know how far he would have to go, to take Dalina home. It was only a flash of memory as he had never studied that particular area with much interest. Yet it had helped. His quest had changed that day in the woods; the choice had been made for him. He had found no trace of Glenfel. Now, only a small part of his being would not let things rest. That part however was not lessening further. It remained. His ultimate goal was still unfinished.

The mountains protected Tamdrac from much of the mainland as it sat on a narrow strip between the range and the sea. Annon had made a few attempts to speak with the King regarding the state of things beyond his walls. The man was beside himself at the loss of Lithk, but refused to consider sending any kind of aid. The ruler was focused only on his four towers and the sea. That is how his people made their living, harvesting the sea. What was beyond was unimportant to the powerful man.

King Tolmant was looked up to and admired by his people. He intended to keep that going at any cost. The fighter vaguely wondered what the price would be or obscurely, what it might have already been. That was odd thinking. Was there a reason this city had been spared? Beyond where it was located, was there something else? Then the deeper more hardened thought, was the King's desire to be separate costing something greater to all he ruled? The plain man brushed those thoughts aside. These people had welcomed him. He was a champion in their halls forever. Not bad for the 5th son of a King. That made him smile, thinking of his father. Annon loved the man and missed him. Yet, it was not time to return, and it may never be.

It was late on the night of Lellarll. That was a festival of "thankful rejoicing" by the people. It was a celebration to welcome the spring tide. The music had been loud all day. Food, dancing, and merrymaking were the order of things. The weather here along the coast had been relatively nice. The cold of winter was harsh, but spring was winning. There were signs everywhere. Early flowers were already blooming in the fields and along the shorelines. Fewer clouds in the sky brought everyone's spirits up as well. That is everyone's except Annon's.

The fighter returned to his room. It had been his home here in the palace these many, many days. Funny, he had not really counted their number closely. In some fashion, he had not wanted to. Annon's heart had secretly won the battle, and because of that, he had nearly allowed himself to consider staying. It was not a thought carved in stone, but it had a genuine appeal. It had gained much weight in the scope of things. Beautiful music played in the grand hall several floors below his. It was a wonderful sound. One he planned to go to sleep listening to.

Annon closed the heavy door behind himself, moved across the room and undressed. He laid the fine clothes he had worn across the chest next to the wall. Then he turned and headed for the giant feather soft bed. Without pretense Annon fell onto the coverlet, exhausted in a good way. The Prince had not even taken time to light a candle. He knew the place so well, it had been unnecessary. The hero had danced this night. He had danced until his legs hurt and his back thought he had done hard battle. The smile on his face was authentic. His thoughts playfully turned to Dalina as he lay on the yielding fabric of the spread. She had been so beautiful earlier this night. Even if Dalina were not Drellin, life here in this place did have certain benefits and possibilities. Annon let his feelings dwell on that fact and closed his eyes leisurely.

"Have you given up Fandran, Paladin?" The familiar voice was low, almost a whisper. The darkness of the room made picking out the speaker hard. Annon had not heard anyone come in. Either they had been here all along or the visitor was well trained in stealth.

"Glenfel?" Annon lay very still. He wanted to believe it was her, and at the same time, he was afraid too. His thoughts of Dalina where gone. Having been awkwardly interrupted, they were impossible to retrace. "Are you there?" He grasped a coverlet from the end of the bed and pulled it over himself. "You left no trail. I looked." Indignation filled his character. The guilt of staying too long in this place came back tenfold upon his shoulders. If it were her, then Annon had let her down by not returning to search harder.

"I have traveled a long way," Glenfel whispered just loud enough for her voice to reach his ears alone. "It is also an extensive story. I returned to the clearing, but you were gone." The runner paused. "I guessed that you had found the girl. There were traces among the people, the ones dead in her party. The clues helped me to know where they hailed from. That also helped me find you. I understand now that she is a princess?" There was another pause. "She will be a queen one day." Glenfel's attitude was approving.

The big man tried to gather himself quickly. There was relief that she was alive. There was also the glaring fact he had failed. The voice in the dark was not angry. He could not place the underlying emotion exactly. The woman continued, "I would have come back sooner, but I ran into more charn and even a friend." The last part of that statement was a bit vague and hard to follow. What friend? The comment did not seem to be made toward Annon. It had been added as an afterthought perhaps?

The growing reality that Glenfel was alive overshadowed everything. The man was thrilled. He wanted to jump up and hug her but stopped himself. Mixed emotions ran across his face. What could he say? The Prince found his thoughts racing wildly. The best he could do was be calm. So he listened. Holding back and waiting for what she might yet say.

"I came here to ask you something." The Armilander's voice was distant. She was still exactly where she had been in the room, but somehow the words were strange. "Do you stop now in this place? Do you want to be with the woman Dalina?" There was no accusation, no sense of pressure or blame. "Are you happy here?" The darkness of the room seemed to get a little darker. The air felt thicker.

The runner continued, "Have you forgotten your teacher, Shendar? Was that his name?" Glenfel moved slightly closer to the bed. It gave him a motion to outline and follow in the shadows. He focused on that and soon made out her vague, form. "We all have a destiny. But we also make decisions along the path to that end. I came here this night to find out if you had made a choice?" The woman's words held no resentment at all, hidden or plain.

"No! I have not forgotten." Annon sat up and moved to light the candle on the table next to the bed. He fumbled for several moments without success.

"Please leave it dark. I must hurry. Time has grown short. If you still want to go with me, then meet me in the stables. If not, than I will go alone." Glenfel did not wait for Annon to reply. He heard something rustle softly near the balcony and then silence.

The image he had barely made out moments before was gone. Annon jumped up from the bed. He turned to the night table and successfully lit the candle. It took a few minutes to find his, own things. They had been cleaned and put away safe. They had not been considered city wear. In fact, someone had actually preserved them in the manner of a memento. They were wrapped as a treasure. Evidence, of a hero's presence? The man was not surprised. They were covered in white paper and archived to prevent times passing. Funny, when had that happened? When had he allowed that to happen?

The feel of his leather tunic, riding gear and heavy boots was kin to a second skin. Oddly he had missed it? The man picked up his sword and belted it to his waist. Then he put on his pack containing his other important items and Drellin's Thunder whip. Walking across the room with intent, the man hefted the great ax of Balor from its resting place. A stand in the corner which had been specially made to cradle it with honor until now, left empty. Annon moved with purpose. It felt good to have "use" again. It had been a good thing to rest within these walls for a time. That time had come to an abrupt end. He went down the passage that led to the main hall and then out to the entrance of the palace proper.

"Did you mean to leave without saying good-bye?" Her gentle voice caught him up short. He stopped in his tracks and looked back. Dalina stood no more than a few paces away from him, just down the hall. Her beautiful eyes sparkled as he directly met her gaze. Her lovely hair was combed straight but lay loosely about her shoulders. The dress she wore was fine. It was beaded in many places and laced up the seams. She was so exquisite. Annon told himself that she was not Drellin once again, but that did not matter now. The woman did not wait for a reply. "Good-bye Annon. When your world again is quiet, please return if you wish. I will be here, waiting for you." The future queen did not linger for his response but turned and walked down the hall, back the way she had come.

Annon's heart yearned for the young woman, and he had not even left the palace. That did not slow his steps, however, and he continued toward his destiny with renewed vigor. The great fighter had genuinely fallen in love too his own surprise. Twice in a lifetime was a unique miracle. When he had brought Dalina back to her father, he had been treated well. Annon had not meant to be more than helpful, but it had quickly blossomed out of hand. It had also made him feel quite awkward by all the extra attention, in a good way. It had filled up a part of him he had not realized empty. Only it was still not enough. He had even been offered a future as King? What was his standard of sufficient? Dignity, honor, and words of value came high indeed.

Annon had told Dalina the story of Drellin while he had been within the walls of the city. It had taken her a little while to earn his trust, but in the telling of the tale, he had healed some. The young princess could feel Annon's pain. The girl accepted the fact that she simply looked like that other woman, Drellin. She even understood that Annon had loved the runner, and was clear he was not past her death. Well at least at that time. It had changed nothing for the princess at all.

The path to Tamdrac had taken many days. The man had saved her. He had treated her kindly and brought her safely home. By the end of it, Dalina knew she was in love. Once she gotten past the loss of her friends, he was the only part she cared to keep from the experience. Dalina also knew she would have his heart for her own. Perhaps she could not erase the memory of Drellin. Maybe she should never try? It was his time here and now that she wanted. The dead could have his past, but "life" wanted his future. The reality, Dalina was willing to wait to obtain it, if necessary. Real love is patient. The woman was young, but she knew that as truth.

Annon did not want to leave, but the image of the beast and Drellin's death still plagued him. The floating-monster haunted him in the night. Then there were the visions from Glenfel. The darkness was intense, and denying it in favor of personal peace was selfish. It was also not his way. He had suppressed his disquiet as he could. The problem was that Annon could never rid himself of it altogether. In all the time he had spent within Tamdrac's walls, he never let himself truly be at peace. It had felt right here, to be among people not trying to kill people. The only way that he would get to keep that sense of harmony would be to finish what he had started.

The fact was that Annon believed everything Glenfel had told him. That included everything that she had shown him as well. Annon would not have taken this path in the first place if he could have found Glenfel that day in the forest. He did not regret finding and helping Dalina. He would never be sorry for the time they had spent together. Annon felt he had a real part in the future of this world. The chance to prove that was now at hand. Annon was not going to turn away. Glenfel was alive, and he had been given yet one more opening. Annon was more than ready to embrace it.

Fandran was a part of something bigger. A part of something Annon had to fight against. With his core being he knew. Evil regardless of its name must be fought against on all levels. He was a hero here among Dalina's family and to all those that cared about her. They were all so very glad to have her home. That did not make him a true paladin. That destiny was still to be made. Fandran was a part of that destiny. No more delays. The beast and the darkness were not going away without paladins to stand tall. Annon was that. If not completely, he would be soon enough. It would be an ugly business, but the fighter would face the darkness with a new Light. That Light would be his soul rekindled anew by love, honor, and respect. They were powerful forces, weapons to be used on his side of the war. More then ever, the man felt he had a chance to be a real "Paladin", in all that it meant to be.

Annon left the palace proper. He went to the stables. Morgane was waiting. He was truly glad to see his friend. Horses are loyal beasts. They don't ask for an explanation, they just accept. Someone had already saddled him and made him ready.

"I knew you would come." Glenfel stepped out of the stall. She was very good at taking him off guard. That should have bothered him more, but it did not. It was comforting to know that the woman was the only one so far that could do it. Well, Drellin could, but that was different. Glenfel grinned a little before she spoke. "I hate cities as a whole, but this one has a certain beauty. I have not been within its walls before. No matter, I still prefer the forest." Glenfel smiled a welcoming beam. "I hope you have rested well my friend. The road ahead is steep. It will take us both at our best to climb to the top." He knew she was not referring to the ground, but more their task as a whole.

"Of course I am here. Fate threw us together, and destiny is calling us now. Something told me I had not seen the last of you." Annon smiled back. She was a welcome vision in the torchlight. Annon placed his pack and weapons on Morgane. Then he mounted in a fluid motion and turned back toward Glenfel. He held out his hand to help her up behind him. She accepted.

Together they went out of the stables, into the main street beyond. The guard at the edge of town was a nice round fellow. It was late, but the festival was still in full swing. The guard waived a friendly hand toward Annon. The big man waved back. Annon noted, there were few guards at any post. The King really had not taken measures. Did he not believe Annon? He was either depending too greatly on the location of his city for safety, or he was foolish. Was there another reason?

The guard keeper at the gate turned the huge wheel that held the heavy bar, over the opening. He did not even question them. Annon was well respected. He had the run of Tamdrac to do as he liked. No one would have questioned the runner at his side. No one would have dared. Glenfel pulled the hood on her cloak down further, none the less. It was more out of habit then fear. This was a beautiful city as Glenfel had stated. It was perhaps the first time she had not felt the pangs of hate so readily at hand everywhere else. The primary roadway was open in front of them. Then, they were out.

HOME

Chapter Twelve-Shendar My Friend

They had ridden north for many days. It took time and it was slow going. There were enemies everywhere. Both had agreed to travel back to Nelmont Faire. They wanted to check on Shendar, and then they would continue. Their final goal would be the Tower of Qualer. It was an evil place. The monster, the Catelaran dwelt there once, and may still according to Glenfel's visions. The runner had evil stories about past lives changed by it. Also, that is where they would find Fandran, or so the runner believed. That was the evil wizard at the center of many of her visions. History was never Annon's strong suit, but evil was evil. A good man knew that when he saw it, right off. Annon had much to learn about this land. Who better to learn from then a dragon? That fact remained to be seen. Glenfel had proved to be a resilient warrior; the rest would have to be made tangible to be fully accepted.

Glenfel was sure they would at least find Fandran. With him would be the Dragon's Eye. That sounded powerful and dangerous to the man. It was a bad combination worth preventing. As for the Catelaran, Annon was unclear. Did Fandran kill Drellin or the beast of legend? Were they connected? In the end, the prince knew death and justice were often mixed, unequally at times. Killing bad things, gave Annon a pleasant warm feeling. Taking a life was a serious event, but doing it for the right reason was necessary. Justice was important if the innocent were to ever be safe again. Annon wanted that. He wanted to serve the Light. That was what he had told Shendar, the day they had first met. That is what he had always wanted. His love for Drellin had made that clear. He admired that her last words were of something greater, something worth dying for. That had made Annon love Drellin all the more. Her loss was great. Serving a higher cause, would make his father proud. Serving the highest cause, the Light, would be true significance.

Glenfel had recovered from many of her injuries in the time Annon had spent in Tamdrac. That helped them travel faster now. There was no need to hold back as they had before. The only thing that slowed them currently was the enemy. Stealth takes time.

It was late, when they camped. They were near the Whisper Wells. The last time Glenfel was close to this place, she had been tricked and trapped. Then, she had been freed again. Freed, by Tram. They were not exactly in that clearing now, but it was near. Enough time had already passed that signs would be few of its existence. Meat, and things found use in the forest by scavengers named and unnamed. There was no reason to remember such a instance. The Armilander knew that to succeed she must only focus on the future. The power of determination was a tool against the storm ahead.

The companions had chosen the place because they needed to refresh their water supply. Nothing else mattered. Before the incident with Tram had brought a different taint to the site, the Wells were beautiful. Glenfel knew that time would make them so again in her memory. That is after there was healing, oh, and if they lived. That put things into perspective.

The formation of the rocks was not to be passed by without pause. In the past, as it would be in the future, the water was used by many breeds, but few humans. Often it was coupled with stories that alluded; the place was cursed or haunted. Over the years, the runners fed the stories among the human populace. That helped keep it safer. Runners did not believe in such things. Haunted? Annon did not either! Regardless Glenfel was leery but not afraid. Ghosts did not kill, but everything else that hated you did. She agreed they needed the water and the decision had been made. It was crystal clear, and some said the liquid from the wells had healing powers to boot. Again, it was just water to the dragon. Clean and clear, not mud.

The hunter had saved her from the slaver. In a way, Glenfel tried to hang on to that good thought to remove any concern she may have felt regarding the rumors. It was odd to go over the events of that meeting. She had been so close to slavery or even death, to be saved by a bounty hunter? It would have been a great story to tell her friend, Annon. However, for some reason, she chose to keep it to herself. Like a great magician never giving up the secrets of his craft. It felt as if she had shared some kind of bond with the hunter? That was out of line from the way life was in this land. It had to be magic of some sort or other supernatural intervention. Out of respect perhaps she then held the secret, guarded in her mind.

The small fire Glenfel had built earlier danced cheerfully, driving the shadows of the night back. They had seen no sign of charn, or barbarians all that day. The charn had been on the move still, but not in as great a force. The tremendous fight the elves had made against them in the valley had depleted their numbers, at least to some degree. That was fine with Glenfel. The war was far from over, but any break was a blessing. It would give the survivors a chance to gather for the next wave. It would come. If not today, than, soon.

The runner now sat quietly, listening and starring out into the darkness beyond the light of the fire's glow. Something was wrong. Regrettably, something was nearly always wrong. This time, it was mostly just a feeling in the pit of her stomach, but it was bad. Annon had fallen asleep early on, but she did not and could not. The clouds covered the sky above, blocking the stars from view. They were threatening to snow before morning. The coast had been so much nicer. Glenfel began to believe that spring would never make it to this land, again in her lifetime. The further north the two companions traveled, the more the darkness increased. Like a huge hand, it grasped the ground in a death grip. Permafrost!

Suddenly a man of great age walked briskly forth from the trees into the fire's light. It startled Glenfel for half a heartbeat. That made it harder to adjust, as she was seldom surprised by anything or anyone. The runner smelt the acrid odor of the creature instantly. It was an illusion, not a man at all. The thing was foul and made her skin crawl. Glenfel pulled her long knife from its scabbard, and sprang to her feet. It looked at her through the hollow eyes of an empty soul. Only she could see the double image behind them. The creature's magic had obviously not worked on her. That is, not completely. It knew it had been found out too quickly and would have to move fast. "Annon! Help me." It yelled loudly as it dodged back and away from Glenfel.

The big man jumped to his feet grabbing his own scabbard and pulling his sword in one continuous, expert motion. He turned and faced the two figures standing next to the fire. Glenfel was in a crouched fighting position, and the old man had both his hands crossed and held up high in front of his body. He was defending himself. "Shendar?" The fighter stammered the question out loud. Annon brushed the sleep from his eyes and came fully awake.

"Yes, it is I! Call off this thing." The man pleaded angrily. "I came to find you, and this is my greeting?" He held out an accusing finger at the sharp blade Glenfel still held high against him. Her deadly attack held only in check, while she measured and weighed the creature's words against the truth, of her own eyes. It could not be what it claimed to be. Her senses did not lie. The problem was that Annon did not have the same abilities. He could not see the truth.

"No. Do not believe it Annon." Her look was fierce and her ultimate intention to kill the man, obvious. "It is a beast-ling. It is a mockery of someone you know." Glenfel stood still and yet combat ready. Her hand wavered. Annon had moved. He was now within the striking distance of the beast. That also meant "it" was in striking distance of the fighter as well.

"I am Shendar. I taught you everything. This is how I am rewarded?" The man asked in an indignant tone.

Annon glanced back and forth between the two. He could not grasp everything that was happening. It was surreal. Glenfel was not given to off-handed notions. He could read her well, and she honestly thought this to be some kind of enemy. But that could not be the truth? It was Shendar. "Glenfel stop! This is not an enemy. This is my friend and teacher." Annon knew that Glenfel could see and hear things better than he could himself. There must be some mistake here.

"No Annon! It is a beast-ling I tell you." She stayed ready to spring across the distance of a few paces. Glenfel would be on the thing if Annon did not stop her. He could not allow her to hurt the old man.

"No, I said! I mean it. Back away, now!" Annon became angry. Why did she not listen to his words? Why was she so insistent on disregarding everything he said? He felt a rush of anger. She was always pushing him around.

Glenfel shook her head sadly. Then she hesitantly lowered her weapon. She stood still and straight. The smell was still present. It had only grown in power. The reek was terrible. It was beyond reek, as it made her eyes water. It was like a gas in the air, a sent of a bad perfume. This thing, could not be his teacher? It could, not be "Shendar"? Her companion was only a human, but he could not smell it? How could that be? Glenfel searched for a way to expose the enemy. She needed Annon to witness the truth behind the illusion. The double image viewed in her eyes had gone. It now appeared more human than ever. The image had grown stronger and more stable, but the smell was the same. The problem now was that Annon would fight her if she did not step back. Even as she moved away ever so slightly, Glenfel kept watch on the stranger.

Without warning, Shendar pulled an ugly, curved dagger from his belt and threw it expertly at the dragon. Annon saw the man's hand in motion and realized a fraction of a moment too late. He reacted without thinking and leaped across the fire at Glenfel. He slammed her hard out of the way with his own body. His effort saved her from a fatal blow, but the weapon still struck deep into her shoulder. It was the same shoulder that had only recently healed. Annon rolled to his feet with his own weapon still in his hand. He grasp his sword with experience. He turned on Shendar. "Why?" Annon demanded an answer, death dancing in his eyes.

"She would have killed me, "Shendar replied evenly. He held his hands open and up in the forest sign for peace. The flames danced in the little fire that Glenfel had built earlier. It was now between the two men.

Annon looked at Glenfel. She lay quite still upon the ground where his body had pushed her down. Shendar's dagger protruded from her shoulder. A large stain of blood seeped across her chest. Her own weapon had been dropped on the ground nearby from the altercation.

"Would you have her kill me?" The quality of the man's voice grated on Annon. "She would have you know!"

"No," Annon answered with cold steel in his reply. He pulled out his own dagger with his left hand and flung it. It pierced his teacher in the heart. The look on Shendar's face was pure, shock. Nearly at the same time, Annon crossed the distance around the fire to within attack range. His blade, now ready. Annon swung his sword skillfully, expertly, and competently. He may not yet be a paladin, but he was a Prince from the Isle of Kings. His father had him trained well. Annon cleaved the enemy nearly in two before he let his anger subside.

"I would not let her kill Shendar. However, that is not you." Anger twisted Annon's face with ugly rage. Before him, the facade of Shendar vanished. In its place the creature became deformed and unrecognizable, barely still shaped like a man at all. It was a thing. Maybe fueled by dark magic or maybe just plain ugly. Annon had had enough. It was just as Glenfel had tried to tell him. Why had he been so easily fooled? Now split from the neck to middle, it fell back in silence. It no longer resembled anything human, except in size. The inner organs were exposed and still working as it fell to the hard ground. Blood gushed out and sprayed the air around it. Several seconds passed before its insides stopped and it lay still.

Dumbfounded Annon looked on. It was all like just another bad dream. A groan of pain brought his attention back to the present. The reality of what had just happened took hold. He moved quickly to Glenfel's side. Annon bent and removed the dagger from her shoulder. It was an ugly wound. Blood now soaked her shirt all the way across her chest. He lifted her up lightly in his arms and her eyes opened. "Annon, burn it." She whispered hoarsely. "Burn it now."

The fighter nodded that he would do as she asked and then continued. He carried her to where he had been sleeping and placed her on the blanket. Annon then took off his, own cloak and balled it up into a pillow for her head. Quickly he made a pressure bandage for the wound. "Can't have you bleeding out." The man mumbled. He was angry. Being tricked by whatever that was, did not set well. Annon propped her up tenderly and then stood. Quickly, he placed more wood upon the fire. The blaze grew high and began to jump and crackle. The fighter went to where the thing, or what was left of it, lay on the ground. He dragged it closer to the fire and threw it into the hungry blaze.

He did not wait but turned away immediately. The man went again to Glenfel's side. "?" Annon tried to wake her, but she did not answer. He was furious with himself. He unlaced her shirt and cleaned the wound. It had an ugly black ring around the opening. The meaning of that was clear. The dagger had been poisoned. He bandaged her shoulder and covered her with a second blanket that he retrieved from Morgane's saddle.

The smell that came from the corpse was putrid, like flesh that had rotted for days. It had only been a few moments. The body in the fire took a long time to burn. In the end, however, it did. At times hideous faces appeared in the smoke, but they were just smoke. Annon could not have believed it could smell so much worse dead than before, in so short a time. "What was it?" He wondered and even asked himself out loud, not expecting an answer. "If it was not Shendar, then what was it? Shendar would never have harmed her!" He thought to himself. "He was an elder, a protector." That should have warned Annon things were not right from the beginning. In the short time that he had stayed with the old man, Annon had learned one enduring point. The elder's, all of them accepted mutants, half-breeds, humans, and elves as equals. That was a rare quality in this land.

Shendar, in a personal moment, had quietly recited:

"All who wander are not lost to those that love them.

They are protecting, unasked.

Bleeding for all,

In service, to the Light."

Glenfel's fever set in just before dawn. She was still as death as he looked on helplessly. Glenfel's temperature grew, rapidly in intensity. Annon could only watch as she slowly burned up. The sun would not come out this day. The cold sky only darkened overhead. That would be okay with him. The weather reflected his mood and better still it would make their presence here a bit more obscure. He had not rebuilt the fire after it died in the night. He thought it better to leave it out from now on. Burning whatever "it" was, had been important. Now they needed to remain hidden in a land gone mad with war. No easy task on his best day. Annon wanted to laugh but did not.

About noonday, Annon noticed Glenfel was shaking. He stripped her quickly and re-covered her with the blanket. He pulled off his own tunic and slid in beside her. He kept his sword near at hand just in case of trouble. Annon placed his body close to hers to share what warmth he could. She shivered in his arms, but he did his best to hold her tight. How could she be burning up and cold at the same time?

"Glenfel, I am here, "Annon whispered low. He tried to sound calm and comforting. She moaned a response that he did not understand. He kicked himself mentally for having let her down once again. The first occasion had been at the clearing where he had left her to help Dalina. Glenfel had finally told him what had happened to her that day, too. Although it had not been his fault directly, the man had still felt bad. Glenfel had been trapped by slavers and nearly killed. He had not been there when she needed him. All that, had passed. He was out trying to save the world somewhere else. The only point that was a saving grace, he had rescued her from the Charn in the beginning.

It was hard to keep up a hero status and not let your head get too big. Even for a humble prince it was a test at times. Yet where Glenfel was concerned, the man kept messing up. He had been offered a kingdom and he had walked away. That would have made his father furious? or cheer?. A brief remembrance of the Island King came to Annon. It was of them both, he and his father on the docs. They had been waiting for the ship, the one leaving to the mainland. The King had patted his son on the back and wished him well in the new land. That was all. Not unfriendly, not unloved, simply a fact that he had no future in his homeland. Well none that might not ultimately lead to civil war. Too many sons had draw backs when there was power involved.

Maybe he would return to Tamdrac? They wanted him there. But that would not be soon. It seemed that Dalina was willing to wait. Maybe. Probably not! That had not been his luck so far. However with danger at every turn and everything wanting to kill them all the time, opportunities were bountiful to keep his titles, Fighter, Warrior, and Knight of Tamdrac. The last one bestowed on him by King Tolmant. He was known as "Champion of Tamdrac" by her people, because he had saved their princess. Then there was the fact he was a prince by birth. Not so important if you are never going to sit on your father's throne. The real title he still desired. "Paladin". That was greater by far then knight or king of any land. It was an allegiance to Arrel. It was to be a protector and keeper of the Light. In his heart he knew nothing less would ever be acceptable. It was the counter balance on the scales of his love for Drellin. He would not be whole until this land was safe.

However. "Some paladin?" He intoned sourly. Annon stayed alert and stared intently into the trees, vowing not to make another mistake.

For two long days, his friend lay still. Twice Annon thought his companion was dead. Her breath was shallow, and when he checked her heart, it was slow and faint. It was not easy to wait. This ugly wound was far worse then all those combined, she had sustained the morning of their first meeting. That was the dawn after the Elven battle at Olcana in the Toleer Valley. He did not and would not give up on her. All his attempts to wake her failed, but he was sure she would come back to him.

Late on the second day, Annon left her side. Their rations were low, nearly gone and he had to hunt. Annon left Morgane with her. He patted the big horse on the nose affectionately and led him to stand by the runner's side. The fighter's great, white, horse was a powerful beast. Morgane would protect her even to his own death. He was a real warhorse and specially trained to fight using his steel-shod hooves.

Annon moved off on foot. He glanced over his shoulder one last time at Glenfel and Morgane. Then, Annon disappeared into the brush. Several times while he hunted, he saw packs of charn. They were clearly on the move again, recovered somewhat from the battle with the elves he guessed. He hurried on concerned that each moment he was gone, maybe one too many. He set his mind on the task before him and rushed. The sky above held. Still, no snow had fallen.

"Annon." The voice was Glenfel's, barely a whisper in his ears. The man was not sure he had heard it at all. He was still quite far from the camp, which made him a little leery of things. It had to have been a trick of the breeze, or some strange magic? However, it had sounded so close and so real he felt it was worth returning. There was no way she could have called to him this far? Yet, the fighter turned himself around and headed back to the camp. Never sure either way, but taking action felt right. Annon picked up his pace.

It was late at night when he walked silently, back into the small clearing. Morgane starred at him from the same place he had left the horse earlier. All was quiet and as he had left it. Annon went straight to Glenfel's side. "I am here." He tried to make his voice sound calm and soothing in quality. If she had called he had answered, if she had not, he was here regardless.

"I must move." Glenfel croaked in a barely audible voice. Her eyes opened to slits for a moment and then closed again just as quickly.

"Move, where? I don't understand." Annon replied. He tried to wake her, but she was gone. Gone back to a feverish shadow world he could not keep her from. He held his ear to her heart. It was still beating slow, but slightly uneven. He sat a long time watching her. Nothing else happened. This was not going to feed them. They needed to eat, move again and get to some kind of safer place. Maybe that is what she meant about moving? Were they in danger? Of course, they were. It made no sense. Move?

With no choice left, Annon went out again. He soon returned with only a small rabbit. The charn were scaring everything away. This forest would never be the same as it once was before. Between them, the evil beasts, barbarians and the great fire that took out Olcana, there was little left. Wild game was in short supply and many would starve. The charn were cannibals, so it mattered little to them. What about the rest?

The hour of late, but hunger knew no clock. The fighter began preparing the meal swiftly. He hated to build a fire, but it could mean the difference of life and death to Glenfel. That fact pushed, even forced him ahead. He kept it small and was careful to watch the smoke trail. It would be hard to see, especially if the creatures were not really looking for them. A short while later he finished. Then he brought a cup of broth to Glenfel. He propped her head up with his arm and tried to get her to drink.

"You must eat!" Annon pleaded. "I can't have you up and dying on me." He scolded. It was not funny, because it was too close to the truth. Annon was not great with humor. Bedside manners were not his strong point. It had never been something he was called on to do in his life. Well, not until he had arrived in this land. Now, that was at least ironically funny.

Her eyes opened slowly. "Blood," Glenfel mumbled. It seemed as if she was fighting to stay awake. Annon noticed her gums were all bloody. "Why?" He had no idea. The fighter held the broth to her lips and forced some of the hot liquid down her throat.

She sputtered and coughed as if the contents of the cup were spoiled. Glenfel then knocked the bowl itself away desperately. He laid her back down upon the bedroll gently. Annon then left her there and went to his horse. He found his water sack and returned to her side. The fighter settled himself down to watch and wait. The man could not leave her, and he could not help her. Annon felt helpless.

The day came early and was nearly as dark as the night. Still, no snow! Only heavy clouds that hung and threatened crowded the sky. Several charn had come close, but none near enough to be a problem. That was good for them. Annon was more than in a bad mood. He would have embraced action at this point. Watching Glenfel was hard. Sitting and fighting death by praying was not his style. He liked to meet his enemy head on and spill blood. It was a way of seeing victory or defeat close up. This was more personal and far more straining.

The night came again. Annon could not clearly remember if the creature that looked like Shendar, had attacked them four or five days ago? He kept a small fire low even with the charn nearby. He did not like the idea, but the small flame gave a measure of comfort to Glenfel, he thought. Annon took off his tunic and lay down next to her under the blanket as before. He wanted to keep her warm. Her fever had increased. Several times he had thought about putting her on Morgane and heading south. However, she had fought him as she could, each time. It was a stupid idea. He knew that. It was just a gut reaction. When someone you care about is in trouble, you don't often think clearly. In the south, they would not care one way or the other about a runner. That was the point. The was the whole point.

At some time in the night, the man had fallen fast asleep. Exhaustion had won. Not knowing what it was that woke him, Annon turned over against an empty bedroll. Glenfel was gone. "How? How had she been able to move at all in her condition?" The fighter jumped to his feet in alarm. Annon pulled on his tunic quickly. He glanced about the area. Glenfel had left tracks. He found them.

"Ta." He called to Morgane, and his horse trotted to his side. Grabbing the reigns he mounted and followed. She had made no attempt to conceal her passage in any way. There was a terrible cry. It made his heart sink that it might involve the woman. No matter what the noise was, a challenge had been trumped, and a death cry answered. Then, silence. He kicked Morgane hard, the mount leaped in answer. It had to be her. Something had found Glenfel. In her present state, whatever or whoever it was, would be her end. She would genuinely need him now. The man pressed Morgane, and he poured on speed.

Glenfel moved within a strange fog of death, yet life asserted itself. Her life! "Hunger!" The feeling was so strong it was a command. It played through both her mind and body until her will was no longer her own. She did not know where she was or how she had gotten there. The scent, only the scent was clear. Glenfel's nostrils flared slightly just to be sure. Her ears fanned wide and she listened with her whole body. Blood pumped faster and faster through her veins. It was like a drug. Glenfel could sense the buck far before she could actually see it. Her vision cleared and sharpened. Her claws flexed open and closed on each hand, as she anticipated the kill.

The runner bolted forward and leaped easily onto the animal's back. She dug her fangs and claws deep into its neck. Warm red blood gushed into her mouth. She clung to its body as much to finish the animal as for her own life. If thrown, the buck would kill her with its hooves and horns.

A short way up ahead, the sounds were louder than before. Annon knew he was close. He pulled Morgane's reigns and stopped. Silently he slid from the saddle to the ground. The fighter used stealth and moved to a better position. Things did not feel right. He needed to see what was happening. Carefully he proceeded. Another dozen paces or so, then the fighter could view the scene. Just through the trees, he had found her. Annon watched, hypnotized. He even thought to help, but stopped. The deer finally fell, but only after a tremendous fight. His stomach turned as Glenfel tore her prey apart.

"Blood!" He thought to himself out loud. "No wonder Glenfel had refused my food. A dragon eats raw meat! But she's human or a least part?" It was the first time he allowed she might really be telling him the truth. Not a version of magic but a "changing", like a butterfly from caterpillar to flight? What was that going to be like for her? Annon had seen incredible, even miraculous things since he came here. Coming across a woman that might actually be a dragon? Well that was still to be seen. Yet, it was not doubt, but unimagined possibility that filled the man.

He left her there feasting on the warm carcass. The fighter started back to the clearing. Along the way, he tried to untangle his thoughts and feelings. First, he wanted to leave her. Then he pondered on killing her for the creature she was. Shaking his head viciously, Annon could not clear his mind. It kept going back to the sight of all that blood and gore. He had witnessed many battles that made his stomach churn, but this was more basic than that. In a way, he could kind of understand. This was animal survival, and it was not pretty. It was just real.

A little more than an hour past, Annon sat and waited. He had come to a decision. He had just learned another lesson. Either by intent or accident, he knew a new level of acceptance.

Silently, Glenfel entered the clearing. "Annon, I am here." Her words were weak. However, she was more alive then she had been all the days before.

"What are you?" He answered her question with a question of his own. He held Balor's ax across his knees. She was not altogether sure of his tone. Had she done something to make him fear her?

"I am, only what I am. I have left no secrets from you. Would you kill me for being?" Glenfel looked him straight in the eyes. "You are what you are, and I accept you. Do you have doubts about what I told you, of what I am?"

Annon's mind remembered back to the vision Glenfel had helped him to see. He was sure she had not been deceptive. Then there were his, own memories to consider. The mental picture of the place in the woods, where Drellin had held her own friend, came back to him. She had held him while he had died. It had been heartbreaking to see. That poor creature was different too, yet Drellin had made no difference in the way she treated him. He was a Boar-man, yet he was still a man. "No. You are still welcome. I can not and will not kill you!" Annon's words drifted back to her in, answer. "We are friends. We will always be friends." Annon even smiled as best he could directly at Glenfel. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. The poison is gone from my system. The wound will heal." Her tone was a bit more relaxed.

"We have wasted several days here. Let us bid this place good-bye and get back to our journey. "He rose and walked to Morgane. Looking over his shoulder at her before he mounted, he asked. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." It was her only reply.

HOME
Chapter Thirteen-A Man of Dirt

The small house looked deserted from where Glenfel and Annon stood in the forest. They had ridden close and then left Morgane several paces out. Both companions were unclear what they might find, and stealth was important. Shendar's home had never been much too look at in the first place. However, it had always been well kept. Now it was filthy. The gathered herbal plants that hung outside, where scattered everywhere. Pieces of everyday items were strewn across the muddy ground, outside, in a chaotic fashion. It was as if the wind and weather had made a great effort to mess things up. The place felt deserted. It felt empty. Well, mostly.

The clearing around the teacher's home was vacant of living enemies. There were no new tracks of man or beast anywhere to be found. All signs were old. Pieces of things, broken tools for gardening, buckets, utensils, that was all there was at hand. Things that were often used in everyday life, scattered. "He is not here Annon." Glenfel's ears fanned back against her head so she could listen more intently. In fact, she could not detect any motion or sound at all, except Annon's and her own. That was again, disturbing. The air was just too tranquil.

The sky above was gray and still. It was like a smothering blanket. It fueled Glenfel's unease. It colored the mood of the scene. Rain was not likely this day. Nor would their be a sun. Cold and more, cold, that was the order of things.

"Are you sure Shendar is dead?" Annon asked in a hushed whisper. He needed to hear the answer out loud to make it a bit more real. It seemed that ever since he had met Drellin so very long ago, Annon had been on some magical adventure. The twists and turns of it made him mentally dizzy. Annon had lost and gained friends like the changing of seasons. It was getting old. The darkness was consuming his life one piece at a time. Annon was extremely tired of that. In his way of thinking, it was long past time to take tangible action. There would be no more waiting and watching while others bled and died. That he silently swore to himself beneath his breath. "No more."

Glenfel answered Annon's previous question. "Yes. I am sure. The thing that attacked me looked like your friend but it was a minion of the darkness. It was evil itself embodied. When you killed it and threw it into the fire that night, you released its magic. They call them "shades". In order for it to have taken on the image of another, the original must have ceased to exist. Therefore, the original must be dead." Glenfel hated to tell him the truth. It would have been nice to offer a little hope. That would not have helped the fighter adjust to the facts. The truth was the truth. It was hard to lose people, but in the North Country, it was altogether too common an occurrence. Glenfel had lost just about everyone she had ever known. Between barbarians, charn, shadow riders, hunters and the dark minion Fandran, her world had hit bottom.

"Why would they kill him? He was just an old man. Shendar never hurt anyone, and he cared about everyone. The aged teacher taught forest lore and helped a few lost souls obtain a life, for themselves." Annon shook his head in a sad gesture, back and forth. The fighter now had one more grievance against the darkness. His list was long indeed.

"Because of you, that is why! They killed him because of you. This old man you say was kind and wise? I don't know about kind, but I agree he was very wise. He saw in you, the future as I showed you, Annon. You are to be a paladin. You do not fear the darkness. You do not and will not fear what it may bring against you. Your strength of will and compassion of heart opened the eyes of others many times already. That is but a beginning to a thousand tomorrows. It is a future full of promise. It is your future!"

"This force you call the darkness, it has much to atone in my book. I will consider Fandran a down payment to a larger bill. That bill will be extracted in blood." Annon spoke over his shoulder as he walked out into the clearing. He drew closer to the empty house. He used prudence but continued steadily. It would not hurt to see inside, just to witness things for himself. Regrettably, Annon believed Glenfel was right. Shendar was more than probably dead. Yet, reassurance of facts was always a good idea.

"Beware!" Glenfel called after Annon. Her low tenor cautioned him, and he slowed his step slightly. The runner closed her eyes and tried to hear anything at all. She needed a clear clue of some kind as to what really happened. A single leaf fell to the ground from a high limb, nothing else. "Nothing? I don't understand?" Glenfel spoke out loud trying to be optimistic. Everything felt wrong. She opened her eyes and studied the ground closer. The runner noticed as she drew breathe slowly, there was a growing, strong smell. "Water? Rain?" Glenfel glanced again at the sky. No. It was gray and ugly, but still as death. Perhaps it was just the recent rain that lingered in the air? Yet, it was not dissipating, but increasing.

"I need to see that the house is empty for my self," Annon called back to Glenfel. "I must go inside." Annon continued forward. He also needed to see if there were any signs left of Talma. Annon had not been back this way for a long time and prayed the boy was safe. The fighter realized that being safe was a constant prayer in this part of the world. Life and death were a daily battle. The safety enjoyed back on the Isle of Kings had been lost on the man until now. Annon briefly wondered what his father would say if he could see him? So far he had done little to be proud of. Well, that is how Annon thought in his heart. He brushed the webs away and focused on the now.

The old, wood door was slightly ajar. Annon kicked it the rest of the way open. Not hard, but enough to clear the path. The room inside was dim. The gray day of outside reflected on the walls. The table and chairs had been overturned. There were sure signs that there had been a fight here. Shendar's collection of books, scrolls, and papers, were scattered about in a half-hazard manner. Shendar would have been beside himself with anger to see the mess. That is if he were not dead, as Glenfel had said. Glenfel came walking up to the door to join Annon at the entrance. She looked inside as well, cautiously. Glenfel closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Dirt?" Glenfel posed the question out loud. It puzzled her that the scent was even stronger in the house. The water smell had grown outside, but it had changed. It had an added aroma of freshly turned soil, mixed with green cuttings. The scent was so strong that it had to mean something.

"What?" Annon replied thinking Glenfel had asked him the question.

"Dirt!" His companion answered. "The smell." Then she glanced at the floor. "Look at the floor. Dirt has been scattered everywhere. It covers everything. Not like a wind storm, but rather like someone or something carried it in. Then, they threw it all around." Glenfel continued to explore the small area with her eyes. The air felt thicker than a few moments before. Things were changing, unseen things. A prickly feeling crawled up Glenfel's arms, like nothing she had ever felt. It was unnerving.

"I don't understand?" Annon returned.

The fighter watched as Glenfel stepped all the way through the door. She went into the house. Glenfel then squatted down and picked up a handful of the loam. "It was a man that did this. A monster made of dirt that did all of this!" It finally came to her. The answer was clear. It came from a nearly forgotten lesson by Thel, or a suppressed memory not her own, but that of her ancestors. "A man made of dirt."

"That sounds crazy. It is insane enough with that shade thing killing Shendar and trying to kill you. Why would anyone want to build a man of dirt?" Annon did not like any form of magic. Tricks and illusions that make people hurt themselves. That is what his Uncle had taught him. Annon had found no reason to change that opinion.

"Shendar is a teacher? Or, I guess it would be better to say, had been one of the teachers. Right?" The woman did not wait for a response. "He was one of the masters of the wood?" Glenfel looked intently at Annon. "Well, he was also a man of magic. Shendar must have had some serious power too. This place reeks of it. That is the pungent smell in the air." The memories from her past confirmed it.

Glenfel rose swiftly and walked further inside. She glanced down at the scrolls and books. The woman did not dare to touch them directly. There were often repercussions to too much curiosity. It was never wise to disturb such things. The ruins and words that Glenfel could see and decipher without laying hands on anything directly, confirmed what she suspected. Shendar may have pretended to be a quiet master of the wood by day, but he was more. He was much more. That was clear from the items left behind.

"Yes! He could do a few things. I know he had some abilities. Shendar was mostly a healer. I helped him gather about half the herbs that are outside hanging on the line or lying in the dirt and mud. He was a healer I tell you." Annon was growing a little angry. No one was safe in this land. This was now just another place the darkness had touched and consumed.

"The thing, if I am correct must have been formed by an even stronger magician then Shendar. Whoever controlled it had to have been well skilled in the old ways. They must have been afraid to face Shendar directly. Your teacher must have been far more powerful then you knew. The sad part is that one even greater then he has been here. That person may even return soon. If Shendar did not survive, I believe it would not go well on us either."

"What are you talking about, a man made of dirt?" Annon stood squarely in the doorway. He did not want to go into the house. It felt wrong. If he confirmed everything, he had to accept. One more death in a world gone mad was too much. Annon did not want to leave without knowing the whole story of what had happened. There had been a handful of good memories for him here, and it was hard to see it all like this now. The man, not the prince, not the warrior, told himself that he should just get used to the hardships. Annon refused. He felt that if he gave in, he would lose himself in the process. So, steadfastly the, would be "paladin", held on to the part of his soul that still grasped at hope.

"To answer your question, the thing that attacked us was just the beginning. This is the same dark magic. The smell, the dirt, I tell you I know. It was a man without a true life. A man made of dirt. It was here. Only a potent magician could make such. The "things" are designed for the purpose of doing some task that the maker can't do. They are always tremendously strong but have no will of their own. Well, none that I know of anyway. The magician, its true brain, commands it from afar. It is used as a tool." Glenfel stepped a little closer to the exit. "Only a coward would let someone do his work in such dark matters."

She gave the room one last glance and wordlessly turned to leave. Glenfel passed Annon at the door, "We will camp at the spring we passed earlier this day and rest there for the night. Upon tomorrow we will begin the journey to the tower of Qualer. You have done all that you can for Shendar. This was not your fault." Glenfel placed her hand on his shoulder and caught his eye directly for the length of one heartbeat. "It is regrettable, but if Shendar was as wise as you thought, Shendar knew the risks." Glenfel patted Annon lightly on the shoulder and then passed him. She walked, slowly across the wood porch. At the edge of the deck, Glenfel looked up at the sky and tried to guess at the weather. It was still cold. It was already late afternoon, but the clouds showed no signs of change. "At least it is not raining again on us this night." Stepping outside was a good thing. The smells were dissipating now.

Annon made a simple gesture that he had learned as a child, with his right hand. It was a blessing on the place. Annon was not particularly religious, but he needed to express his sorrow and regret in some fashion. The fighter could not help but think he had let one more person down in a long line. He followed the woman out.

"Are you sure Shendar's is the only death you sensed at all in this place?" Annon had to ask. He had not forgotten the boy, Talma.

Glenfel's reply was short. "Actually, I don't feel anyone at all. I just know that Shendar is dead. It is doubtful there is any other explanation."

That gave the man a measure of relief. Talma must not have been here when whatever happened, took place. Annon walked back to his horse. Just before he reached Morgane, Annon stumbled to the ground. He cursed his clumsiness and tried to rise. Then Annon heard the laughter. It was loud and maniacal in nature. Annon looked around rapidly to find where the sound had come from. Again he tried to gain his footing. The terrible laugh sounded like it was everywhere, all at once. The big man saw that Glenfel had not yet left the house. In fact, she had returned to the inside. He could barely see her backside from where he was now.

Suddenly, from the ground where he had fallen a huge hand began to rise. It was as if the dirt had taken on life. Quickly, it was followed by another hand. Annon was mesmerized. Before him, it grew like some deformed tree, with human-looking arms and a body. It was a man of dirt. It was precisely what Glenfel had told him about. The head of the thing was unbelievably real. Its tortured features were hideous and yet impossible to take his eyes off. Annon tried to scream out to Glenfel, but could not find his own voice. Never had he seen an enemy its equal.

Glenfel forced herself to look about the house one last time. She did not care for the dwelling places of dead wizards disguised as healers or teachers. "There is something here?" Glenfel voiced her question out loud. She did not really expect an answer, but she asked none the less. "You know I am not able to find it by myself. If there is something you have left behind, I need your help." Then she spotted the small bag, perhaps it had been dropped from the table when it overturned? Perhaps it had been dropped on purpose? Glenfel picked it up carefully. She weighed it in her hand. Then she opened the top very slowly. It was dangerous to disturb the possessions of an elder, out of respect if nothing else. She turned it over and dumped the contents onto the floor very gently, "Dust?"

The fine grains moved as if caught up in a small windstorm, where there could be no wind. Before Glenfel's eyes, a picture formed. It was a map to the place she had only seen in the memories of her ancestors. It was the Mouth of Tabr. That was the legendary entrance to the otherworld. She held her breath afraid to break the illusion. Then as quickly as it had formed it was gone. Now it was just dirt on the floor.

"Annon,I found something! I think it is important." Her voice was full of excitement. Glenfel was not sure why, but she was sure it was left for them both. With her right hand she tried to scoop it up again, to put it back in the pouch. She could not. The tiny grains fell through her hand. Frustrated, she rose and stepped outside to find her companion. The dragon stopped cold. She could see "it". It stood twelve feet high, and only a few steps from Annon. The fresh smell of moist dirt, suffocating, and assaulting exploded in aroma.

The fighter held his position before the new threat. His heavy long sword was at the ready. He waited. The creature was like nothing the prince had ever seen. Even so, he would not back away. He recovered from his first sight of the thing and prepared to defend and also attack back.

"Annon you must get the ax! The weapon must be of the Light. Nothing else will stop it." Glenfel screamed at her friend. The thing heard her yell and turned. Its mighty, head was the size of a bolder. The eye sockets were vacant black holes. The thing was lifeless and alive at the same time. It had a gaping, empty place for a mouth, ringed with sharp twigs for teeth. It bellowed an evil challenge that shook the ground. This monster would not be easy to defeat. Glenfel found herself wishing it was a cave troll instead. At least then they might have a fair chance. This, this thing was going to be very hard to take down even with both their strengths.

Annon heard Glenfel's words about the weapon. He called to Morgane in immediate response. Annon stepped back quickly from the creature's field of attack and took advantage of the moment Glenfel had provided him. He put down his own sword, the sword of his father. Annon then pulled Balor's mighty ax, from Morgane's saddle. He grasped the ancient weapon in both hands and turned to face the enemy. "Now beast, we will make war!" Annon challenged back at the creature. His did not shake the ground, but it was no less deadly.

The fight was short. Glenfel would have lost money on the outcome. She could not have believed it would have been that easy. The ax danced within the air with expert skill as the man of dirt met its match. Slowly with each blow, Annon cut it a part off here, a piece off there. Still, it attacked until no joint was left together. In the end, there was only a pile of dirt and small stones. Annon stood over the remains exhausted... It did not bleed like a man, yet Annon wondered if it had felt pain? A large bruise on Annon's neck throbbed violently, courtesy of the creatures surprisingly swift reactions. "It could definitely cause pain," Annon thought.

The hero of the day sat by the small fire Glenfel had built. The spring nearby made a pleasant noise. It was lovely, to listen too. Glenfel entered the clearing with a load of firewood in her arms. She crossed to where Annon had sat down on a blanket to rest and dumped her burden. It was within close reach for easy use. Glenfel then sat by the fire with Annon, quiet for a while. It was peaceful in this place. This was Eleneer, or little brook in common. Even in the dead of winter, there was a small warm spring that fed a secret garden. Annon had gone there with Shendar after Drellin had gone to the other side. Shendar had told him that Drellin too had liked the glen. It was nice to think of Drellin while he sat now listening to the echoes of his own memories. Annon had little time to do such things. The quest was ever at hand.

Glenfel broke the moment of Annon's reflections. "I am glad you are better. You look, it. Are you rested?" His companion asked her manner full of true concern. She did not, however, wait for him to respond. Instead, the woman spoke again. "I wanted to tell you before anything else, that I believe you are a great fighter. Do not, however, let that go to your thick head! Perhaps it was just the ax?" She had to add that last part. Too much confidence might give the man cause to slow down at a bad moment. Annon needed to remain sharp and focused. The runner continued as to defuse the situation. "I found something in Shendar's house, at the last. It was a map to a place I know only by legend. The memories that I have come to embrace from my ancestral past are filled with useful information. I believe it is a true place. I can find it."

"Where?" Annon asked as he watched the small fire intently. He had pretty much been through enough today. Annon wanted nothing more than to rest and sleep for a little while. This adventure thing was extremely tiring. The road to becoming a true paladin was either going to kill him or mercifully come to an end soon. Glenfel seemed able to know things and kept him on a path. That was enough. One fight at a time, as necessary until his goal was accomplished. As long as he had his chance to set things right, the man was alert.

"The map could not be taken from there or even held in my hands. It was some strange illusion left behind. I think that Shendar left it for you or perhaps one of his other students. I think that I also know the location it showed me as I said. The name in my memory for the place is the Mouth of Tabr. It is an entrance. A cavern which leads deep into the depths they call the otherworld. The charn never go near the place. That tells you it is dark indeed." Glenfel kept her tone just above a whisper in case. The malevolent, foreboding feeling had clung to them, even after they had left Shendar's.

"If you are right and you can find this Mouth of Tabr, do you believe it will help us to get to him?" There was venom in Annon's question. He did not speak his enemy, Fandran's name out loud. The very sound of it made Annon's blood race too fast. His daydreams of Drellin were gone. His moment of reflection was gone also.

Glenfel continued low, "It could lead us to Qualer, the magician's tower to the north that I told you about. The memories are true and clear. I believe we were, left the map as a message from Shendar. Maybe it is all that he could leave without fear of someone else coming across it? Regardless, it is the only clue we have to follow the evil that haunts this land."

"Then we will go to this Tabr place." Annon rolled over onto his side and went to sleep. In his dreams, Drellin returned. They sat by the water together in a meadow he knew was his own mind's creation. He missed her so much. That beautiful place like Eleneer was peaceful too, but there was no underlying threat of an enemy lurking close.

Glenfel continued to sit by the fire and guard her friend while he rested. Finally, she too rolled over and drifted off to sleep. Morgane watched over them both.

HOME

Chapter Fourteen- An Evil Melody

The cavern mouth was enormously large. It dwarfed the two travelers as they approached from the thick forest on foot. The sun was high overhead, and there were no clouds at all. Glenfel was glad to see the great ball of fire in the sky yet she dared not hope winter had really gone. Too many times she had thought the sky changed, to be let down by more tempests to follow. The light seemed to blaze down specifically hotter near the entrance of the forbidding place, the Mouth of Tabr. It was as if the sun itself tried to burn up or drive back the evil within. The memories from the runner's past told her the meaning in common for the opening. "The Edge of Black". In the name the word, "black" referring to the bitter darkness. It also had multiple definitions of evil connected to it as well. Pronounced in the old tongue, it was hideous sounding.

Glenfel longed for days forever gone. Things were not always as bad as they were now. Even the loneliness of her life before Olcana had been raised, was missed. Existence in the north was harsh, but harsher by far since the fall of the elves. It had been changed irrevocably. Things disappear, die or worse they are killed. The liberty to ride free may never happen again in her lifetime. Glenfel would fight to the end to restore the Light, and all that meant. She whimsically remembered deep green forests, without threats at every turn. Alas, that did not seem likely to be in either her future or Annon's. Her companion had kept quiet as they approached. The fighter's thoughts were his own, and he was not in a good mood.

Annon had let his great white horse go free, back in the forest. He hated to leave Morgane. That probably had a lot of bearing on his disposition. However, there would be no place for a horse of any sort where Annon and Glenfel now needed to travel. They would go deep beneath the ground. Glenfel had explained that this path would lead them under the badlands and across the territory held by the barbarians. There were other things in the darkness before them that were just as deadly as the fierce, evil men on top. She had made that clear. Annon and Glenfel knew that they would meet any threat or threats with deadly force, so it mattered little. The positive part was that the enemies below were not a force at arms. To battle it or them would be to face a single enemy, or perhaps a small group, but not an army.

They had not spoken any words together since they had left their little camp by the beautiful spring. The hours spent there had helped the fighter, focus. All of his efforts had brought him little return. The quest with Glenfel at least promised purpose. Annon needed that badly. So Annon had prepared Morgane for the next leg of their journey. He returned to Shendar's empty house and gathered what he could. Then he packed his bags and placed them on his saddle.

The big man mounted, looked around what was left of Shendar's dwelling, once his temporary home and felt sad. Shendar had taught so many students in this place, for things to end this way, it was hard. Perhaps he, Annon of no title, no honor, and no legacy was the last in that line? Note if he could help it! The big man held out his hand for Glenfel to ride behind him north. That was all that had been needed. Words were often over spoken. The weather had continued wet and unpleasant for six solid days. Then, the sun won. There were still clouds, but the bright, warm, light finally had the chance to break through. Mud covered everything. It was cold, but not freezing.

Together the runner and the fighter had traveled. Charn had run by them in packs, as they watched from hiding at times. There was no reason to confront them. There were simply too many. There was no point. That would not win a victory that would free the land. That is what they needed. So they traveled on. At times they had to go around large groups of repulsive men. They were the barbarians from the deep north. They were vulgar men that had no respect for life. However, they were not coordinated as a whole, which made them clumsy. That confirmed to Glenfel that there must be a higher leader. This was not over resources. This was darker. Something had driven the evil men south in great numbers. They had used the charn race like trained dogs. It had been extremely affective.

Even now there were only pockets of elves left. Their city was in ashes.

Personally, Glenfel stayed lost within the thoughts of past ancestors. Those memories were growing inside her in frequency and intensity. Dragons liked caverns as a rule, but this was different. The entrance itself sent chills through Glenfel to the very bone. Annon was affected too, but he did not want his companion to know. He tried to remain calm and focused his thoughts on better times and people he missed. There was some kind of peace that both companions seemed to dwell on their past at the same time? Looking at this evil place, gazing into its depths made all hearts that viewed it, long for the solace of somewhere else.

Memory. It was a funny thing. Annon thought little at the time of some of the lessons Shendar shared. They seemed meaningless or silly. Then there was... Something Shendar had told him? They had been talking about revenge. They had been talking about Drellin.

The teacher had said, "To face a wizard with the kind of power that Fandran had directly, would be more than a little foolish. The key was never to forget that all people, things and ideas have a beginning. Find that beginning, and you will then be able to find their end."

Annon and Glenfel hefted their packs on their shoulders, and marched forward. They entered the cavern mouth together. Annon took a moment to glance upward, one last time at the sky. He noticed the ceiling of the entrance was at least a hundred feet and twice that across easily. On they walked together each step taking them deeper into? The floor began to slope downward while the ceiling and walls grew closer narrowing the path before them. Soon, the light from the entrance no longer could be seen behind. They stopped. Only for a moment, and lit their torches. The light the fire cast had an eerie glow. Glenfel could have seen better without the flame, but there was a small, comfort to be gained by its presence.

Several hours passed, or had it only been one or two? Annon could not tell. This place played tricks on his senses. There was nothing beyond the reach of the torches that could be seen at all. Everything was black. The passage had become more regular in shape since they first entered. It was as if this area was not natural but formed by mortal hands. Finally, they stopped to rest. Together they sat on the cave floor. Annon gave her his flask to drink, and then he drank. One thing for sure was that being underground made them both thirsty. Tired, Annon placed his pack behind him and propped his torch up against a rock. He removed is sword belt and lay his weapon down. Then unhooked the great ax and set it too, near at hand. He laid back and closed his eyes. Glenfel figured they would be there for a little while, so she did the same. She did not, however, mean to sleep!

Glenfel woke up slowly. She could hear the soft music in the back of her mind. It was beautiful, mysterious and sickening. Maybe it had been with Glenfel all along in her dreams, but she did not realize it until now? Her memories brought her to full alert and told her its significance. "Sirens!" Glenfel whispered to Annon. She opened her eyes and glanced around. Annon was nowhere to be seen. It had not been her intention to let down her guard, but that had not been her decision. Sirens were evil and seductive by nature. Their songs lulled even the bravest to their deaths.

Anger and fear made Glenfel's blood race. Both of their torches, still burned and sputtered nearby where they had left them. Annon's pack was also where he had laid it down. Next to that, his sword and ax lay in the open. The fighter would not leave his weapons of his own accord. Rising swiftly, she bent and retrieved the man's sword. She buckled his belt and weapon around her waist and secured it. Then she grabbed both packs and shouldered them. Lastly she hefted the ax. It was all very cumbersome. The question was what to leave? Better to take everything, until she could not. Then she picked up the torches. Glenfel fanned her ears wide and waited.

The music was more inside Glenfel's head then something she could hear around her physically. She set off rapidly down the passage the way they had been going before they stopped to rest. Soon enough, the music within her mind became a reality. It was lovely beyond compare and held ominous consequence. It echoed against the walls of the corridor back and forth, back and forth. Then silence.

The passage opened up into a huge cavern. There were cliffs up high on all the sides at the edges. They went up almost thirty feet, or more from the base of the floor Glenfel stood upon. She sensed more than saw an opening at the far end of the tunnel. The path continued on there, but getting to the other side would not be easy. The music had come from within this cavern, this open space. The torches illuminated the area all around far enough for Glenfel to pick out the bones. There were piles of them. Dry, brittle evidence of previous travelers, all scattered carelessly across the floor. Intermixed here and there was the residue of more recent meals. The moldy, rotten smell that assaulted Glenfel's senses was devastating.

"Sirens!" The thought continued to race through Glenfel's mind with all its horrors. Glenfel dropped the packs on the ground and removed the long rope and hook from among the contents. The rock face would be easy to climb. It was the music that foretold of the real danger. The music began again and grew, louder and stronger than before. The runner hurried.

Glenfel left the torches. The runner also unbuckled the belt and lay both the sword and ax next to the pile. They would only slow her down. She would be better off depending only on her own abilities now. The young woman climbed fast and approached the top of the cliff's height. There she found a new floor to stand on. The runner lifted herself over the edge and gained her feet. She crouched low in an attempt not to draw unwanted attention. The woman could pick out the two figures, twenty paces away even in the near complete darkness. They leaned over a third which lay prone, still on the floor. Both assailants had wild, matted long, black hair and skin white as snow. The runner could not see their faces directly, only glimpses of razor-sharp teeth.

Suddenly, talon-shaped hands swung in the air as the two monsters tore at each other. They growled and hissed, fighting over their prey. For one brief moment, Glenfel saw their empty eyes. "Blind". That means they would be listeners. That knowledge helped with how to fight them. The runner doubled her efforts to be silent. The fight helped the monsters stay focused on each other. They did not notice Glenfel as she approached at all. The music still continued, the runner was not sure how? It must be magic of some kind? Its resonance was meant to hypnotize the unwary. If she let herself go, she too would be a victim. It took great concentration to fight off the effects. If she had been of human blood, no doubt there would be two bodies instead of one.

Glenfel snarled low, the warning of her kind. It echoed through the cavern with surprising force. The dragon was real. She had made her presence known to the lower beings. Both creatures stopped. Their fear was obvious. They glanced about quickly. Each one of the evil beasts intently tried to locate the new enemy. Again, Glenfel let out the awesome sound of the creature she truly was inside. The cavern echoed her voice a hundred times, back and forth between the great stone walls. Both beasts turned and fled into the darkness beyond in the farther tunnels. They left their prize where he lay.

Glenfel waited. A moment or two passed; while she watched the dark things disappear into the black. Where their lairs close or far? No way to know. Glenfel moved forward to the victim, the prize on the floor. She could not see any marks upon him. His eyes were closed as if he were simply asleep. His face bore a satisfied smile and an ear to ear grin. The man looked as if he were actually enjoying himself regardless of the danger he was in.

"Sorry," She half laughed in irony, "but we have no time for this." Glenfel pulled back her hand and slapped him viciously against his right cheek. No reaction came to his features. The smile remained. Her hand was slightly numb from the blow, but Glenfel continued. She hit him even harder the second time.

Moments passed painstakingly slow. Glenfel watched the way the beasts had retreated. The empty, passageways were quiet and felt abandoned. She wondered where the lair entrances might be exactly. It would not be good to run into them again if they could avoid it. The runner expected the evil animals back at any moment when no real dragon appeared. That did not happen. Why? No time to really consider. Glenfel told herself it was wise just to move forward.

One last time she struck Annon. His eyes flickered a bit and then opened wide. The fighter began to say something, and she stopped him. Glenfel put her hand to his mouth quickly and gestured toward the path the sirens had taken. She helped him to his feet and swiftly led him back to the rope. He climbed down to the cavern floor below with Glenfel right on his heels the whole way. Annon's movements were sluggish as if he had been drugged, but he moved the best he could at her insistence.

The runner picked up the man's belt and put it on her companion. Then she placed his sword at his side. Ever concerned that they would be attacked, she grabbed both packs and hefted the ax again. Swiftly she picked up the torches and motioned toward the passage at the far end of the larger cavern. Annon started to sit down, and she kicked him. He was immediately angry but stayed silent. The drugged effect was hard for him to overcome so she pushed him toward the path ahead with all her might. Slowly and reluctantly the man stumbled in the right direction. Glenfel could hear the music growing in her mind. The creatures had probably returned to find their dinner gone, but it was too late.

The runner found herself repeating her own song inside her head. It was a sweet elvish melody, a youths love song. Why she had chosen it?, Glenfel was not sure. Perhaps it was just another way the dragon memories had interceded on her behalf? Regardless, it successfully focused her thoughts and helped her push the foul melody away. With Glenfel's measured pace and concentration they made good time. The opening to the tunnel that led deeper into the darkness was just ahead. Then, they were through and beyond, soon enough. Glenfel did not let her companion stop for anything. The cavern behind grew further and further away, and the two felt the danger recede with it.

Together they traveled closer to Fandran and the Tower of Qualer with steadfast intent. The corridor they walked felt endless, varying only slightly in width and height. They were both exhausted and hungry. The music from the dangerous creatures was long gone or had faded out of range. They were about to stop when they turned yet another corner. There was a long stretch ahead. The sides were smooth as if hand worked. There was also a light. It was far in front of them. Not a normal light one might expect from a fire or torch. It was like a dim sun, here beneath the land. It was breathtaking. A part of Glenfel voiced caution to herself: "Remember, few nice things like the dark. How can this be here?"

Annon had recovered himself quite a bit. He even helped Glenfel by taking his own pack and torch back. He let her carry the great ax for now. It was still hard to think clearly. The man did not say much about what had happened but knew that he would not be alive if she had not saved him. Annon walked on into the brightness they had found up ahead. It was a huge underground cavern similar to the siren's home, but greater in total expanse, many times over. It was a world beneath their own world. The radiance that filled the cavern could not accurately be found. At least not from where the two companions stood. It, seemed to emanate from everywhere all at the same time?

A forest of twisted, stunted, and bent trees lay in front of them. They had bizarre colors and shook ever so slightly to an unseen current. Red and brown colors, mottled together, dominated most of the foliage. In places, there were tiny purple flowers. The shade of the little buds seemed odd and somehow unsettling. There were also dead bushes and growths beneath the foliage. Both travelers felt as if they were outside again, but knew they were not. They picked up their pace. Even with the low light, they did not put their torches out as yet. Fire served other purposes then light, in Annon's experience.

The sound of running water filled their senses. The sweet smell of fresh, wet foliage was like a perfume. It was a welcome greeting. Glenfel's ears fanned back flat against her head. She listened for the sirens, just in case. This could be some new trick of theirs?

This place had a different kind of spell to spin on the unwary. Nothing could be this nice so deep beneath the ground. They were tired and after several minutes passed she spoke. "We can rest here, I think." Her voice was soft sounding to Annon's ears. It was after all better then the black passageway. They had put some distance between themselves and that evil. So without hesitation, Annon shook his head and silently agreed.

Glenfel sat down right there in the main path.

The fighter plopped himself heavily upon the ground next to her. He pushed the end of his torch into the soil to keep it upright. Then removed his pack, laid back and fell fast asleep. The encounter from before had left him drained. Being under the ground had left Glenfel exhausted too, but she dared not let herself rest. If she did Glenfel feared she would fall asleep. That had nearly cost them both their lives the last time. It did not matter if it were her fault or not. She refused to let it happen again. Glenfel un-shouldered her own pack and sat it next to his. She looked about and felt the light had not changed, and did not seem likely too. So she smothered out her torch, then reached for his and did the same. The runner then watched and waited patiently, for her companion to wake back up. Balor's ax lay across her lap. It was not her weapon of choice, but in Annon's current state, her skill was superior by far. Twice she heard the sounds of footsteps, but could not detect from where? There was no day or night in this place. It was the same, all the time. That had a bad, wearing effect.

"Annon, we must leave." Glenfel shook the man's shoulder insistently. Something had made Glenfel afraid. Something was here with them, she was sure of it. The footsteps had come and gone several times, but now Glenfel knew there had to be more than one watcher in the wood.

"How long have I slept?" Annon mumbled as he rose from his dreams. The tired feeling he had in his body had not been healed by the short nap. The man did not think he would be genuinely himself until they were above ground again. Annon longed for even the dark skies of winter in favor of this enclosed sample of the real thing.

"Later. It does not matter now. Glenfel replied to his question. "We have company." The tone of her words brought Annon to the reality of their situation. He stood.

"The music? Are the creatures back?" He could not help but ask. He did not hear it, but Annon had not really understood it the first time either. Well, that he had been aware of.

"You are speaking of the sirens?" Glenfel finally spoke the name out loud. "They are gone now. Do not be angry with yourself. They lure the unsuspecting with their melody, then feast upon their victims. No more than that. It is their way of life. No, I feel something else. I can not be sure, but there is something. We must leave this place now. It is full of danger." Glenfel had shouldered her pack and was picking out the path ahead with her eyes. "Are you okay? Can you carry your pack?" She noticed that he had shouldered his in way of an answer. "If you are still weak, I can handle it." Glenfel tried to offer assistance. She did not offer the ax back as yet.

Annon made a face. Glenfel had never seen the expression before. He was angry? "I'm all right. Let's go." Annon felt the sudden and intense need to prove to Glenfel that he was fine. He was still strong and could carry his own weight. That did not make the fact he owed her his life less important. Annon just wanted to show her it was a worthwhile chore, saving him that is. He bent down and picked up both torches. They might yet need them further ahead.

They walked on together along the wide path between the trees, carefully. Glenfel watched for traps as she led their expedition. She did not hear any more steps, but she was sure they were watched. Annon and Glenfel did not speak as they continued. They worked their way through the middle of the underground world. Then an opening in the wall of the cavern was clearly within range. It was a black mouth of darkness and the path to Qualar, or at least they hoped. They lit their torches and walked onward.

HOME
Chapter Fifteen Gone Swimming

The corridor of the cavern widened as they walked forward for hours into the darkness. Their torchlight no longer showed the ceiling above them at all. It had gradually risen higher and higher. The deep, strong smell of an open sea permeated the air. The hard stone of the floor changed to a mixture of sand and rock combined together. The total black slowly grew to be dim. Annon and Glenfel found themselves looking out onto a wide underground beach. A gray light from somewhere and nowhere brought some luminosity. It was not a lot. Similar to the half light from an eclipse, its brightness changed the normal color of things. It made them different. Yet, the mysterious vividness was not welcoming.

The dark water that lined the shore was still and dead looking. It stretched out before them into oblivion. The actual width of the cavern was beyond easy measure. The light from Annon's torch was swallowed up by the deep darkness beyond the flames reach. Almost as if his fire were not allowed here.

The shore was barren except for one thing. That one thing was an old boat. It was not much more than the size of a dinghy. The craft had obviously been through better days. Seaworthy? Well, that remained to be seen.

"We must cross if we are to continue." Annon's voice echoed slightly as he spoke. It was the first thing that he had said in hours. The oppressive, heavy tension had continued to grow, fueled by the hopelessness of their journey. The water did not look the least bit inviting. "It is either that or retreat back the way we came." From his manner, it was easy to tell the big man did not favor that option.

Glenfel walked to the water's edge. She stood still, desperately trying to see through the deep, black shadow that lay beyond the light. "I think I can see the shoreline and a cave opening on the far side." Glenfel spoke low in a hushed tone. The small hairs on her neck stood straight up. This place was different than the last.

"Then we cross." Annon moved toward the boat with a determined gait. The awful spell from the sirens had mostly left him. At least the physical weakness that had crippled his efforts and slowed their progress had eased. He had no wish and especially no desire to try that path again. The fighter was a man of action, and this seemed to be the only path forward. The fact that it felt like another trap made little difference. He could not bear the idea of passing back through the singing monsters' cave again. The faint sound of their song lingered still in his deepest memory. It was not unpleasant, but it was not sweet.

"There is a smell here, I do not recognize. Whatever it is?, it is not good." Glenfel hesitated to move from her vantage point on the beach. She stayed standing where she was for a while longer. No matter how hard the woman tried, she could not clearly break through the shadows in the distance. There was only the vague outline of a cave opening, maybe? The water did not move. It looked more like sticky tar then drinkable liquid.

"We must cross or turn back." Annon's tone stressed his concern. "We both know we will cross the water." He stated with finality. The fighter sat his torch down. It was almost gone anyway. Then he heaved hard and pulled the tiny, relict toward the water. "A little bit of help if you please?" The big man chided. It was more of a request than a command.

Glenfel reluctantly moved to comply. She walked over to where he was beside the craft. Then, sat her, own torch down on the sand. It too was nearly gone. The runner then took off her pack. She sat it on the floor inside the boat. Glenfel reached in and pulled out a fresh torch stick. Easily she lit the end with the previous flame next to her. It was just alive enough to pass its light, before it flickered out completely. Then she propped the new one up, inside the boat. The runner could see far in the dark, or even this half light. Yet, a flame, any flame gave the illusion of protection. Comforting, the tiny blaze eased the production of unnecessary fears. Then, lastly, Glenfel handed Annon the ancient ax directly. It was a better choice, instead of laying the weapon loose with their other items. The big man tied it on to his belt. Having both his, own sword and Balor's weapon together was not comfortable. Yet, comfort and survival were seldom mates.

She turned; now ready to do her share of the heavy lifting. The boat did not look overly safe, but Annon was right about their options. There was little choice for them if they intended to succeed. Glenfel bent to the task at hand and helped him drag the vessel to the water's edge.

It was not tar, but it was murky. It was also cold. Soon with a little more effort, both travelers stood knee deep in the icy water. They tested the dinghy for leaks. Reluctantly the man climbed in. Annon took off his pack. He untied the top and pulled out Drellin's whip. He handed it to Glenfel. The runner said nothing. She tied it to her belt. Then he closed the sack and laid it next to hers, under the bench. The woman climbed in herself and made ready.

There was only one paddle inside the craft. Annon used it. He worked slowly and methodically, easing them out into the murk. Only, the soft sound of the water shifting away from the boat as it pushed through, and the ore lifting and falling could be heard. Glenfel strained for more. She needed to hear or see something, anything. Grudgingly the shore receded. The dim light was still everywhere, but the tiny torch fire was similar to a shield in battle. What ever was to come, they would face with courage.

Glenfel lifted the glow high, from her place at the bow. She hated water almost as much as she hated cold weather. Well this kind of water anyway. A warm bath was an entirely different matter. Fleeting thoughts, the young woman pushed aside. Gradually they closed the distance to the far shore. The runner dared breathe a heavy sigh. "There is a cave opening!" Her statement sounded like a mixture of relief and disbelief at the same moment.

Then, the woman heard something else. She was sure their boat had not caused the sound. Something had made a noise. It sounded like a small stone dropped into the water from a high place. It had been close, too, a very, short distance away. Glenfel was certain. The echo it caused lingered for several beats. Glenfel held the torch a little higher. It was a desperate attempt to see what might be coming. Danger? No signs. Yet Glenfel's insides told her there was something. They were not alone. They had been noticed.

"Hurry!" The runner commanded Annon in a low, tense voice. Then, it happened again. This time it had been even nearer to their little craft. It was a very odd sound indeed. The opposite shoreline only edged closer at a rate far to slow for comfort. Glenfel re-checked the inside of the vessel quickly with her eyes. There was only the one ore which Annon was already putting to good use. Nothing else would help them unless she dared reach into the water and paddle by hand. That was not a pleasant thought.

A slimy, scaly, clawed hand slipped over the side and pulled hard back down to the water with great force. The little boat capsized immediately. It threw Annon and Glenfel into the cold, gloomy water abruptly. The torch went out with an ominous sizzle, and the darkness engulfed them. The dim light was still there, yet it took moments for their eyes to fully adjust, from the flames absence.

Coughing and sputtering they surfaced together. "Glenfel, are you all right?" Annon's voice broke the eerie quiet. The water tasted foul in his mouth. It was bitter and clogged his throat. Annon continued to cough and try to clear it as he desperately called for her again.

"Yes." Glenfel finally answered. The unclean water was hard to swim in. It was thick and heavy.

Annon felt the little craft right in front of him. It was within arms reach. When it turned over, to his surprise air had been trapped. It floated upside down. He hung on tightly and called to his companion. "Glenfel, swim to my voice. I have found the boat. It is still afloat. He held on and waited.

Glenfel's eyes burned with the water. There must be something in it. Something that was not natural. For the first time in her life, Glenfel felt panic. It took all her training not to let herself lose control. She listened to Annon's voice and swam with difficulty toward him. Then she too felt the hard surface of the wood hull. It was a welcome feeling. They were both quiet for a while. Together, they hung onto the half submerged island of safety and tried to think of what to do next.

"I do not know where the shore lies." Annon's tone was flat and matter of fact. He was careful not to allow his manner to give away his underlying fear. That was the last thing they needed right now.

The panic Glenfel felt inside had found its' way into her voice as she responded to him. "Nor do I." Annon knew she was running out of time. For that matter they both were. Glenfel finally spoke in a hushed whisper, "Wait!" She closed her eyes tight and then opened them quickly once more. The cavern had changed. It was ever so slightly brighter than before. "I can see it!" Glenfel's tone rose in excitement. Her panic receded significantly.

"I can not. How can?" Then Annon caught himself. She must be able to see better in the dark then he knew. The other point of fact is that the fighter did not care. He was simply thankful. "What tipped us?" He dared to mutter low under his breath.

"I do not know, but I think we should hurry before we find out." The fact that Glenfel could see the shore again gave her some ease. It also helped to control her overwhelming feeling of alarm. Actions kept Glenfel together and getting out of this murky substance was a task that she embraced with desperation. " Here," Glenfel placed the end of the whip in his hand. "Do not lose me." Glenfel took her bearings and launched herself away from the dingy. Annon followed close behind. He simply had faith in Glenfel and swam for his life.

Too the runner's surprise her sight became clearer. In fact, it continued and soon was better than ever before. Some inner part of her was altering. Maybe it was the beating of Glenfel's heart, the racing of her blood or just the right time? That would be a nice change from the way things had been going. Like the quickening that brought on her ancestor's memories, this was the next step toward total acceptance. It was a good thing. Well normally it would be. It was suppose to be a time of celebration. That was the echo of her past memories. Well, that was not going to be her present. Glenfel looked about in the dark and thought she would celebrate alright, if she could just get them out of the water.

The runner's time, the time of the dragon was near, and whatever was happening, was helping. The panic Glenfel had felt only a few minutes before had left her altogether. Instead, the dragon felt stronger and more alert.

Again, only this time they both heard the pebble sound upon the water. From somewhere close behind them, something followed. The sound of several pebbles, in fact, hitting the surface all at once filled the cavern. It was a sudden storm, a squall from no where. "Swim, Annon! Do not look back!" Glenfel panted heavily as she pulled him forward to her and then pushed him on ahead with all her strength. She could see behind them, what now followed.

Revolting men in fish bodies as far as she could see. All swimming toward them! They had gills, fins and fangs. She had never seen their like and worse there were many of them. Ugly fined heads bobbed slightly at the surface as they swam, with huge cold eyes glaring toward the travelers. Their arms were scaled like fish in cold winter streams, as she glimpsed them closer. The rest of their bodies were hidden below the murk, but Glenfel did not desire to look further. "Swim!" Glenfel screamed loudly to the man, and she let go of the other end of the line. "Don't look back!"

Annon felt the whip leave his hand. He thought for a moment that he should turn. He should try to help, but he did not. The fighter could only hear her command echo through his mind. Not knowing which way was right; he decided to swim as straight as he could. Soon, Annon felt the bottom beneath his feet as the water finally became shallow. The man pulled himself from the terrible, mysterious sea to stand on the dry bank. The fighter, released the mighty ax from his belt, grasped it firmly with both hands and turned to wait. Annon peered back as hard as he could. "Glenfel, where are you?" No answer came. He waited for several breaths and tried again. "Glenfel, where are you?" The man waded back into the ink, a few feet. He continued to stare hard out into the dim. Nothing! "Glenfel!" Annon screamed. Finally, he heard her.

"Annon." She pulled herself from the water slowly. "We must hurry. They will return soon." It was obvious that she was exhausted. The fighter could hear her labored breathing. Annon found that he could barely make out her image as a slightly darker shadow in the otherwise total darkness.

He moved to her side and helped the runner lean on his shoulder. "Who? What?" Annon wanted answers but was not sure he would like them.

"Please, I don't know." Glenfel stood the best she could with his help. "I killed something that I have no name for. Its friends are busy eating it or him. They will not be busy for too long, that is for sure. I think we should put as much distance between them and us as possible." Annon held Glenfel a bit closer. He took on as much of her body weight against himself as he dared.

"I can not see." It was a plain statement of fact, out loud. The torches were all gone now. The eerie light only lightened this place. What would they do now in the caves beyond?

"I can!" Glenfel replied in a hushed whisper. Together they hurried as quickly as they could into the cave beyond. Glenfel leaned on him, but still lead the way with her words. She could just make out the path, while Annon was as good has blind in the blackness, which surrounded them. It was a team effort.

"Stop!" Glenfel commanded. She let go of his shoulder and moved to the cave wall. Quickly she gathered up some moss where it had grown along the base among the rocks. She then ripped a long piece of cloth from her tunic. "I do not want Fandran to know we are here, but we must have a fire!" He started to tell her that they had lost all there supplies again and that a fire was not possible, but something told him Glenfel was not without means. She pulled a small set of stones from her belt. Light soon danced softly across the expanse, a corridor of solid rock. Annon's eyes hurt and quickly blurred for several moments, a reaction from the sudden tremendous brightness of the little glow. Then they adjusted.

"How will he know?" Annon looked about for enemies that he could see. He thought perhaps they were closer to the tower then he had guessed. It was true they had traveled for what felt like days, but time was deceiving under the ground.

"Magic," Glenfel replied. "Fandran will know. He will feel it. I have no choice. Be ready, I hear them coming." Her voice trailed off into silence. Several beats passed. Then Glenfel continued with a note of sadness in her words. "There are enemies close at hand."

The floor of the cavern was slippery here where they now stood together. It would make fighting hand to hand difficult. Annon untied the great ax from his belt and hefted it in his right hand. He was ready. Let them come! They watched the shadows together beyond the tiny glow from Glenfel's makeshift torch. She held it high in her right hand. With her left hand, Glenfel retrieved something from her belt. Annon spared a moment to glance at his companion. He noticed her leg was bleeding, heavily. Even though they were still drenched to the bone, and there was very little light, he could see the redness. It was spreading down her pant leg. The fight back in the water had gone badly. Glenfel had not complained, but he needed to see to that wound soon. They both needed a break, but that was not likely to come quickly.

"Annon, close your eyes until I say open them again!" Glenfel yelled and threw something that looked like a tiny blue ball back the way they had come. It was bright and luminous in its center as if it held a power source of its own. He did not ask any questions, only closed his eyes as he was told to do. It hit the far wall and the passage instantaneously filled with, Light. It was blinding, like full daylight in its intensity. Then it was gone, as quickly as it had come. "Annon. Now! Open your eyes." The fighter did as he was told. Before him, Annon saw the charred remains of many water creatures lying on the floor in front of them both. The little fire Glenfel had made initially into a torch flickered pleasantly and allowed him to see to some degree. He replaced the ax at his belt. Annon did not like magic as a whole, but it had several advantages in its use to be sure.

"They all know we are here now. We must move quickly." Glenfel stated with passionate sincerity.

Then, entirely without warning the ground shook beneath their feet and the ceiling began to cave in. Large stones and rubble crashed down all around them. Many moments later everything was quiet, and the movement of the ground stopped. Annon had been thrown to the stone floor. He gathered himself back up and stood. He glanced around quickly and could see nothing. The blackness had returned. Annon went back down to his knees and felt about on the floor. He found the bag Glenfel had worn at her belt. Annon gathered what moss he could find to remake a fire. He remembered what Glenfel had done to create the first one and fumbled in desperation. Annon touched the small stones inside and took one out. He hit them against the stone floor and the moss lit, a fire was born.

"Glenfel!" He yelled out loudly. He picked up a stick from one of the fallen water creatures and made a torch. It had obviously been the fish man's weapon. Annon then held his makeshift torch higher to see his surroundings better. A great wall of rocks now blocked the path. "Glenfel must be on the other side." Annon looked on in anger and then pounded the great stones with his free hand clenched in a fist. Annon was helpless to reach her. Fandran was so close and so very far away. The wizard had eluded him again and this time had also taken someone he cared about. Annon could barely contain his rage. As he pounded the stones Annon's anger drained away, but his hatred grew. "You will not die as Drellin, Glenfel." In a low voice, the brave fighter swore an oath. "Fandran if you harm her I will tear your insides out as you watch. You will receive no mercy. You will account for everything."

Annon stopped hitting the stones. He felt extremely calm. He turned away from the wall and started slowly, back down the pathway. "I will get out. I will return!" Annon's voice echoed away into nothingness. He knew his torch would not last, and there was only a small supply of the moss to keep it going, but he vowed he would crawl out of this dark place one way or the other. He would kill Fandran and enjoy the task. He and Glenfel had traveled long in this dark world. There must be another passage, another way out? Something they had missed. If it were to be found, he would find it, of that Annon was sure. He had too. The darkness had taken, robbed him once too many times of people he cared about. Fandran would not win, if Annon had even one last breath in his whole body to fight with, he would.

HOME
Chapter Sixteen- Death in the Mist

The terrible sound of rocks falling filled Glenfel's ears and the choking dirt filled her lungs. A cave in would kill them both she knew. What had caused it however Glenfel did not know, but she had to get to Annon. She had to get to him fast. The numbness in her right hand told her it was probably broken. Glenfel hoped it was not crushed. Ever so slowly the rumbling sound faded and the dust settled. After a relatively short time, the air cleared a bit. Glenfel could breathe again, but it was all she could do to hold herself back from coughing. That would give her position away to an enemy, and her training was stressed to the limits to hold her body in check. It was near pitch black, and yet Glenfel found she could see quite some distance. It had to be due to her time of shifting. Even more then before Glenfel knew it was close.

"Yes," The word echoed with a sinister tone. "I finally have my prize now." The voice, cold as ice, it held menacing implications. The laughter that followed the evil words made Glenfel's skin crawl and her stomach ache badly. It filled the air around her like a spirit without form. Glenfel turned this way and that to locate the source. "I have you, Armilander. I have you!" Glenfel could not locate it, but she was sure who it was that spoke. Her heart beat faster, and the runner knew real hate. Glenfel breathed heavily even in the thick air and paid for it with a racking, spasm of coughs that followed. Some kind of gas, it was? Glenfel felt the magic flow around her tangible to the touch. Terror seeped into her heart for here beneath the surface she could not fight him. At least Glenfel could not fight him with any serious advantage.

"Too long have I waited for you, Armilander!" The laughter was louder and held a note of pure madness.

Fighting to find her own voice Glenfel spoke his name, "Fandran!" It was not a plea or an answer, but the best challenge she could muster. It sounded weak to her, own ears. If she were going to die, Glenfel wanted it to be an honorable death. She gathered her strength and prepared to do battle. The runner tried to use her right hand out of habit and found it could not be moved at all. Desperately Glenfel changed her intent and used her left. That hand could and did grasp the handle of the long knife, at her belt. She gripped it so tightly that her knuckles were bright, white.

"Yes, you know me. All the better I think that you do." The terrible influence sounded smug and arrogant. Fandran's power had grown. The blackness, the root of his true evil magic had grown with it.

"I know you, like those you who have crippled or killed. Those that still live and can remember your ugly face in every dark hole in the ground." The runner's defiance was strong. "It is shrouded only in the blackness of forever death itself. I also know you can not harm me with your magic. They are all tricks and illusions. You have nothing else." Glenfel tried to sound sure and confident. Then, she saw the mist coming at her. It was creeping from down the passageway. It was a black swirling cloud, alive with tiny sparks of fire. It had appeared from out of thin air and now grew as Glenfel watched helplessly. It smelled of rotten eggs and dead things that had been left too long in the sun, but not dried.

"Foolish little dragon. Should I even call you dragon? You are a tiny lizard." Fandran smirked, and then paused as if distracted slightly, thinking about other things. "You realize that you are as much an outcast as I am? You are not truly a dragon, nor are you truly a human. Perhaps I can convince you we are one and the same. Join me?" His hesitation gave Glenfel time to pull her blade from her belt and take a fighter's stance. Ready.

Ah!" The noise of rustling chains and scratching claws against hard, stone filled the small corridor with chaotic sounds. "Yes, perhaps you might be persuaded yet." laughter echoed.

"No!" Glenfel screamed. "Never!" She stood still and watched with nowhere to run. The mist grew close, and the air became heavier still. Glenfel could not find the source of Fandran's voice. It came from all around, but the menace of the swirling cloud was sure. Was he the cloud? Was this another trick?

"You are right you know. I can not harm you by magic. I'm afraid; however, what you see is not made of my magic." The sound of some great beast growled. A cold chill ran through her body. She saw it. Then darkness filled her mind. Fleeting images of claws and teeth flashed and disappeared. It was overwhelming.

Glenfel woke to find herself in a huge room, lying on a large, soft bed. It was built upon a raised platform. There were many cushions thrown about, and beautiful tapestries hung everywhere. The pictures were lovely and depicted stories of great heroes long gone. If Glenfel did not know this was a prison, it might have appeared pleasant. It was a vain attempt to hide the rough, hewn walls of the cell she now occupied.

The runner sat up and glanced about. She tried to remember how she had come to be here? More importantly, exactly where here was? The pieces fell together slowly. Her hand should be crushed or worse? It was not. Pain? Nothing! Someone had done a very good job. There were clothes laid neatly on the chest at the foot of the bed. They resembled a poor imitation of beautiful elfin ladies attire. A knock on the door brought Glenfel swiftly around.

"My lady, are you awake?" The knock repeated. "May I come in?" The door opened slowly and a youth of about fifteen seasons in age, stepped inside. "Master awaits your presence in the hall." When Glenfel did not immediately respond the youth looked down at the stones in front of his feet. "If you do not come they will beat me. Please come." There was a distinct shake in his tone that led Glenfel to believe he meant every word. Funny, she could smell him too. Fear? Real, fear? Worse still, fear without hope.

"That's it." Glenfel's mind reeled. "The creature of the towers is not dead." Her ancestors' memories confirmed her thoughts. The thing in the swirling cloud was not Fandran at all. It was not made of the kind of trickery that fueled Frandran's power. He had spoken the truth. It was older and darker. "Catelaran." Glenfel had whispered low, out loud to her self.

The boy looked up at the woman with real panic in his eyes. "My lady, will you come?"

Funny Glenfel thought, instead of apprehension she found she was merely curious. "Yes, I will." Glenfel had heard of the Catelaran. She had known of its existence from stories passed down from her teacher in the deep wood. Now the distant voices of her waking lineage echoed the stories to be true. The memories provided by her ancestors told her more about what was coming. Those memories were generations upon generations old.

"The Catelaran was there in the beginning, and in one form or another it would be there in the end." That is what the dragons inside of her mind told her. That is what they all told her.

Glenfel looked down at her body and found she had been nearly, completely undressed. Her own riding clothes were gone, nowhere to be seen. She glanced back at the elfin costume. It was a poor imitation of a great people's quality, but it was covering. She shook her head and decided there could be no other choice.

On the whole, she was not particularly modest, but she hated the cold as a general rule. They had taken everything to make sure she would be weaponless perhaps? The funny part or at least the irony in that was Glenfel became ever more dangerous when pressed to improvise.

The woman slipped easily into the soft blue gown. It was long, all the way to the floor. That was not uncommon for the style of the deep north. It was warm to the touch and smelled odd. There was a taint. All things evil have it. The slippers were made from a similar material and fit her well enough. The boy had waited where he had been. He had respectfully obverted his eyes until Glenfel was done. The runner then crossed the room where he stood by the entrance. She noted that there were no handles or knobs on the interior side of the door. Proof, it was a prison, even if it were a pleasant one. The door swung completely open for Glenfel to pass through. She stepped forward and out into the wide hall. The boy did not follow her. Instead, he remained behind. But, just as Glenfel passed she heard him whisper. "Thank you." The relief in his tone was unmistakable. He had not exaggerated.

There was a guard outside in the hall as she expected there would be. He was obviously a barbarian. There was also a second man. He was much smaller and hunched over. His head was nearly bald, and he had skeletal facial features. One would wonder if he was ever fed. He was dressed in a deep-gray robe of plain cloth that went to the floor. It was rough spun and heavy looking.

"I am your escort." The poor things gravelly voice hurt Glenfel's ears to hear. The man had held out his bony elbow for her to grasp, that he might lead her with respect. Glenfel stepped a little closer to the ugly, wretch. That is when he looked directly up into her face. She felt very sick at the sight, for he had no eyes. He had only empty sockets. There was an all too close a correlation between the escort now and the dirt man at Shendar's home. Glenfel also noted there was a huge scar that ran from his right ear around and up to his broad brow on the opposite side. A toothless grin greeted her glance.

"Who, where?, I know the why." Glenfel held her sudden revolution of the man before her in check. It did not matter if he was a slave or a pawn, serving a foul master, she would have treated him the same. They had not killed her, so they wanted something. As long as she was alive, hope was alive. Maybe, just maybe Annon was on his way. She would not sell him short. They had been through too much.

The hunched man drew up his body, stood a little taller and moved a bit closer to her. Then he offered his elbow more insistently. "This is the way, my lady. I will take you where you need to go." After several hard moments passed between them in silence, he lowered it. "This way, please." He restated and motioned her forward instead with his bony hand. Glenfel walked on beside him. Somehow, not touching him was best.

The passage was long and empty save for her escort and the guard that followed a few paces behind. They finally came to a wide stairway that led down. "He is at the bottom, my lady." The hunched figure spoke clearly, with an almost sympathetic tone. "Your path is set. There is no other choice in the matter, but to move forward. That is always the right direction. Not back." The creature's empty eyes stared up at her. "I was once a paladin. You would not even remember my name. I am sure, Armilander. Perhaps you will remember my kindness." With that last word, he tossed something from his right hand up into her face. Glenfel could feel her eyes close and her body slipped away into nothingness. "He would hurt you if you dared to defy him and I know that you would. This will be easier!"

HOME
Chapter Seventeen-Qualer

The Tower of Qualer stood surrounded by six minor columns in the distance. That was not to say they were small. They were simply smaller than Qualer itself. Together they were separate and one at the same time. It was said to be the home of the Catelaran. The being from legend created out of things sane men have nightmares about. It was also where he would find Fandran. Glenfel had been sure. Annon looked on in trepidation at the massive structures made from stone, dug for by people long since dead. Darkness and evil filled these buildings. Each one, in turn, was said to hold a different future, a different terror. Beneath the surface somewhere nearby was Glenfel.

Annon had returned for her as he had promised. The fighter had found a way out of the caves. There were however, less bird women that sang in the dark now. It had not been an easy task, but he had become used to that as a way of life. The funny part or perhaps the most ironic was that Morgane had found him too. When Annon had let the horse free days ago, the big man thought he would never see him again. The prince could not fathom how the animal had survived, much less coming back to him in the end. The boy inside the adult man had never been so glad to see the beast, his friend for so long.

His desire for vengeance upon Fandran had changed. Annon still mourned Drellin's death, but that had altered also. Deeply, he wished not for vengeance but justice. The Prince's time in the otherworld, had left him with a sense of calm. The fact was he had been in a continual battle against evil since the day he had first met Drellin. He saw that clearly now, with a better understanding. Over all that time the ugly blackness had only grown. Fandran was just part of this new feeling.

"The Light!" It warned him that his greatest enemy was not the evil wizard but the darkness itself. Glenfel and Shendar had both tried to tell him just that, but he did not truly realize it until now. Fandran was just flesh and blood. He was just a man and only a pawn. Annon, the Paladin, needed to destroy the true evil that made Fandran who and what he was. It also needed to happen before it, the Cataleran grew any further. That was the destiny of every real Paladin. It was a life in which service was held high in the devotion to pure good and all that it meant, the Light. They were to fight and protect from their first day to their last.

"How can I fight something that I can not touch?" Annon asked himself whimsically. He pondered that thought in great detail as he surveyed the wasteland that lay between him and the first great cylindrical hindrance. He did not expect an answer right there on the spot, but it would have been nice. It was still the hour of the white wolf. That was the time just before the true dawn. The light of the great sun would soon come to shine on the land, his world, but not here in this place. Clouds had covered the sky above, as far as he could see in all directions. They were still more pleasant to look upon then the darkness of the otherworld a thousand times over. Time was his enemy. It seemed to stand still here in this forbidding land of the deep, cold, barren north. Nothing moved. Nothing lived. The dead remainder of bushes and bent trees were the only reminder that once this place had been a forestland.

"Now!" Inside Annon, the command echoed. The big fighter did not know how he had heard it or where it had come from, but it was strong. He urged his mount forward and remembered all the warnings Glenfel had spoken of in there time together. She had helped him to understand the legends of this land, all the time giving him a reason to live. Annon longingly thought back to Drellin. That was a lifetime ago. Shendar had probably warned her of many things too, before she had entered Bracar. That thought made Annon all the more alert for traps created by both, men or magic.

Fandran would not expect such boldness as for someone to ride straight up to the towers, or at least Annon hoped not. He had learned many things from riding with mutants too. Annon knew he would need and use it all for Fandran was definitely a breed. The prince was going to the tower to fight on evil's home ground. The fighter wondered if Glenfel was already dead. He would not let himself dwell upon that. He pushed it from his mind and concentrated on the moment at hand.

The sound of Morgane's hooves clumping hard upon the ground seemed to grow louder and louder. It brought forth the image, the memory of the man he had seen through Glenfel's eyes. Annon realized that he had in fact, come to that point, a place in time. It was just exactly like the vision. They had only shared that one instance ages ago, but it was carved on his heart. Annon was the perfect, mirror-reflection in his mind. Morgane, his own horse, was that other horse he had seen as well. There was a modicum of comfort knowing that he had completed at least one step toward his purpose. The man that Glenfel had shown him was a real Paladin. If he was that man, then he was evidently close to that goal.

Annon focused his thoughts on the problem ahead. He continued to look for the traps he knew were present. The wastelands were even more foul and uglier now that he was in them as compared to seeing them from the edge of the ridge earlier. "Nothing!" The fighter whispered out loud. He drew closer to the structures and looked everywhere. Annon was alert for anything. Yet he saw no guards, no slaves, and no one. In fact the outer, smaller buildings showed harsh wear. No one had repaired anything for ages. Only the center was different. Qualer. It was just as old, but did not appear nearly as disused. Regardless, Glenfel was sure this was the place to come. His guts told him she was right.

The two companions had discussed things at length, back at Shendar's and over their time together. They had worked out a master plan. They intended to kill both Fandran and the beast; Catelaran. That was still the plan even now.

"Glenfel may have gotten here first, but the party really does not start without a man that can dance." He grinned. Annon liked to dance, on and off the battlefield. He was not bad in the hall of kings either.

The fighter finally reached the central tower. It was huge. The entrance was an opening that spanned easily forty paces across and approximately forty paces high as well. There were two huge stone statues, one on either side of the entryway. They were carved in the shape of mighty lions whose bodies were de-formed. They were closer to giant bulls. Each had a pair of wings that resembled those of a serpent's. Their eyes followed his movements as Annon rode across the threshold to the inside. The fighter could feel their gaze, but to his surprise, they did not move. They were indeed stone, or at least they seemed to be.

He crossed an interior courtyard and dismounted slowly and carefully. He patted the mighty horse's nose affectionately. "Old man, I may not come back." Annon then proceeded to remove his saddle and release the animal once again. He was so grateful to the beast for their long time together. The fighter wanted to make sure Morgane had a chance to still be free. That had worked well before, and made Annon smile even now.

The place felt hollow, and abandoned. It was clearly in better condition, but the "air" was old. Stale and somewhat hard to breath, it seemed like the outside current never dared to enter here. Annon turned and moved with stealth. There were long, white, stone steps, nearly two dozen. After that there was a large threshold to the main hall. A giant, intricately carved door, at least fifteen paces high...was the centerpiece. Designs were carved on every inch of exposed wood or other metal. This place was loved once, at least by craftsman.

The big man took the steps quickly. When he reached the top, he glanced back and saw Morgane had not moved. Then the fighter turned and pushed slightly. The massive wood door, swung away easily to allow him entrance. It was soundless. He peered through cautiously. There was a tightening in his chest. It was not exactly fear, more like excitement. Again, there was no one to be seen in any direction. So he stepped inside. The place was empty?

The fighter continued inward to the opposite side of the chamber. There was a long hall and more rooms beyond. Everything beautiful, old beyond time, paintings, sculptures, art objects everywhere. Dust, dust and more dust. These things had no value any longer to anyone. If monetary things became worthless, what took their place? It was a puzzle. One, that the Prince already had the answer to for himself. Things were just things. He would give all that he ever had or ever would have, just to save his friend. She was priceless, if occasionally annoying.

Annon stood there very still for several long breaths. Then he walked on with care. He began to slowly tread his way in the direction he believed would lead to the center. After all, he still had a plan. It was the same as before with only minor changes. Go to Qualer, find Glenfel, save her, kill Fandran, and the evil mist thing too. Well, maybe not in that order, but that covered all the points. Ultimately leading back to Tamdrac? That too might yet happen. First... Kill the bad guys!

This tower or castle, Annon could not be sure which?, was remarkable. It was deceptively laid out inside. What you expected it to be, it was not. It was larger and grander. The further inside he went, the better things seemed to be. As if this part of the huge structure were still in use, or had been more recently. These inner walls were covered in more wonderful murals of great beasts, far away places and incredible sites. There were paintings of heroic figures doing battle against foes of every shape and size. There were no signs of wear, or dust on these objects.

Evil was here. Annon could feel it. However, this place must once have been some part of the pure Light. The Prince of the Isle had seen much in his life, but this was an architectural miracle. It rarely happened except by the hand of uncommon men that served a higher cause. That would never be the darkness.

The halls were still deserted as Annon walked quietly on. Suddenly, he heard voices. The fighter followed the sound. He went around the corner and through another large, heavy, door. It was there he found the very thing he sought. It was not Fandran, but the creature of night. It was like a cloud of black that sucked in all life near it. The monster floated or seemed to, a few feet above the stone floor on the far side of the grand hall. He had been seeking Fandran, but faceless monsters' were high on the list.

There were two in the room. The creature and a man dressed like a fighter, a barbarian. Not just any, but a leader type. Annon caught site of his face for only a moment. The man looked human except for his eyes. They were white and empty, as if he were blind. They looked the opposite of Glenfel's eyes. There was a chill in the room that reached all the way into Annon's bones. The being that was there, it was shifting and changing as he watched. The blind man was not afraid of it, but listening to it, as if they worked together? It was a heated discussion and it served the intruder well. They did not notice him at all. The man cautiously stepped back into the shadow of the hallway. He stilled his own breath and focused on the sounds. He listened to their words.

"Calot!" The thing hissed and whined. "You are to use the weapons you have and go through the door, back to your world." A long pause followed. "Travel to the Palace of Time. Bring me what I want." The last word hanging and hanging like an echo of unspoken silence. Then, "The Kardia, the heart must be mine. Do not fail me." The creature near the man faded in and out as if it was not entirely there at all. It was more like a vision, or some sort of half dead? In fact, the closer that Annon looked at it, the harder it was to see. He found that if starred off to the side and not directly at it, then it became clearer, uglier and more solid.

The grating voice in the cloud of nothing, continued "Once that is done. All will be well with you as I have promised." The sparks of light grew just a bit brighter. The man felt his insides tell him to look away, and he did. "Then I have yet another task. Go back to the Time Keeper's Palace. Only this time, kill her. That will insure that all remains as it should be." A creepy, groaning sound followed.

"I understand and will not fail." The empty shell replied. What ever was left of his being, hollowed out like a fish, and prepared. The barbarian was little more than slave.

The room shimmered with multicolored lights and the blind man was gone. Annon stood extremely still. He continued to watch from just outside the door, glancing up and down the hallway from time to time to make sure he was safe. A long while Annon waited.

"Calot." He thought back. "Shendar had spoken of him. He was the knight, born to be a paladin for the Light. He was to be given the seven weapons. Or something, like that." Annon had not paid a whole lot of attention because the old man had made it sound extremely "long ago". How was he to know that a past hero was going to turn up and be, a villain too? Well, from what he had just heard, Calot did not have them all. He could not, for Annon himself carried Balor's ax and the mighty Thunder Whip. Wait. He did not have the whip. Annon had given it to Glenfel. Perhaps she carried it still? Regardless, somehow, the man or maybe runner?, had changed. He was not a good man. It sounded like he no longer stood for the Light at all. He had embraced the darkness and that made him Annon's enemy. That was one more to add to the list.

The prince did not know why the creature wanted a heart? Kardia, meant heart Annon was sure. Was that the stone that Glenfel talked about? It was however; clear it was not for the good of Arrel. First Annon had to find Glenfel. Then they would destroy the creature and all his minions including this new adversary. He would deal with him personally. In fact, Annon relished the idea. He finally turned, and set off down the passage once more in search of his friend. If she still lived, she needed him. The rest could wait a little while longer.

The next chamber along the corridor was open. As Annon peered in, he saw only books. There were books of every shape and size. Thousands of volumes lined the walls. The room itself was empty of life. Quietly, Annon stepped in. He picked up one that was written in the common tongue. Annon looked it over carefully and realized it was some sort of storybook. Perhaps it was a history book or merely a tale to entertain the flights of fantasy, but it did not matter. Annon put it down. He looked further and examined his surroundings a little more closely. A massive mural on one side, painted between two large bookcases caught his attention. It stood out for the simple fact that all the other walls, except this one, had books. The shelves were actually built all the way up to the highest part of the ceiling. There were no windows.

The picture on the wall was that of Qualer and all the surrounding minor towers, in all, their splendor and glory.

"The Towers!" Annon spoke out loud to himself in wonder. He saw before him a painting full of color and life. Each image sparkled and glistened in its' own tremendous beauty. The landscape was pleasant and captivated the onlooker. The fighter pulled his eyes from the work of art with a tremendous effort. He felt that he could easily get lost and stand forever dreaming about what was out there, what was possible. It was dangerous.

Next, he noticed another book. It was laid open on a pedestal near the mural. It had a certain aura, much the same as the picture. Annon moved forward to look at it more directly. The edges of the paper were gold as if they had been dipped. The texture of the cover was a skin of some sort that sparkled like scales. To Annon's amazement, the right side was already written, but the left was half blank. It was actually filling up as he watched. It was writing itself before his eyes. Annon blinked hard to clear his vision. It did him no good. He stared at the pages, mesmerized. Soon both were filled. The words stopped. Annon waited for several heartbeats. Just as he was finally ready to give up, both pages became blank, and the writing began again.

It read:

Annon, Prince from the far land, the Isle of Kings, knight from the City of Tamdrac, heir to the thrown in the water. Then, several empty spaced lines purposefully left. A single word boldly printed, "Paladin". Another long pause, while nothing changed. Several more spaces followed. The words continued. It is yet to be written what will become of you. There are too many choices. I am the book of tomorrow's dawn. I am not darkness, I am not light. I am record...

Darkness is what one does not know. Twisted lies and half truths assault your understanding. Evil feeds upon that of which you fear. Hate and bitterness are all consuming tools to eat the soul. Beware illusions and deceit.

Evil is real, stand against it! Fight for the Light!

Remember to speak the beginning, Bethenlandra!

The armaments used by the Paladins' were fashioned to bring peace and truth. Kilar Danfast awakened the knights with a simple gift of faith. He had always known the Light and he shared that with them. It was the conviction they had in themselves and greater still in their Creator, the One above all. The giver of life and Light was the true reason to serve and love others. It gave them purpose. They were transformed. That power was used for the Light of this world to help protect it and keep it safe for all. It grew stronger with each man that possessed real daring, knowledge and wisdom to defend forever willingly, serving.

Like then and now, each man is tested.

It is wise to remember that the "Paladins" were just men. It was their faith in the Light that made them more. This they learned and, this they forgot. Calot, has forgotten. He is a man gone mad.

Do not miss your chance. You will only be given one.

The writing ceased. Annon waited again patiently. Finally, it started as before, but this time it was no longer directed at him. It continued a new line of thought, perhaps something it had even been writing before Annon had approached. It switched languages every few sentences as well. It made reading it harder and harder, to the point Annon stopped trying altogether.

Annon left the room. He pondered the words of the book in the back of his mind, but in the end, pushed them aside. He returned to concentrate primarily on the search for Glenfel. His steps were hurried now for inside Annon was constantly aware that time was swiftly passing by, or even running out altogether for his world. The darkness was gaining greater power relentlessly. It was growing!

HOME
Chapter Eighteen-No, My Friend

The silence of death filled the room. The air was stale and had a rotten taste to it. It was hard to breathe. Glenfel opened her eyes ever so slowly. The first thing she saw in the dim candlelight, were the chains that bound her movements completely. Somehow she knew the ugly impish man had drugged her and put her out. The indignity of being subdued so quickly was not lost on Glenfel. Why? What had she missed? Gaps in her memory were unsettling. She felt violated. If not physically, then mentally but that in ways was far worse.

Then she saw him! It was Calot. He stood nearby, very still, watching. He was no more than a few paces away from the hard surface Glenfel had been pinned to. It was a slab of rock. The surface was cold. The man's presence made her blood race and her heart sink. He was altered somehow. It was like he carried an extra shadow with him, not his own.

"I'm glad to see the trip did not harm your beauty Armilander." The huge fighter's voice was so familiar to her ears, it erased all the days since. The tone was low and husky. The sound was sweet and painful. It was once the pitch of a man in love with her. As he spoke, Calot stepped closer and ran his hand across her arm lightly with affection. It did not have the desired affect. Instead she felt repulsed and further saddened.

"Calot!" Glenfel gathered her wits and attempted to speak. "What is wrong with you?" She struggled in her bonds. "Release me and let us leave this place."

"You are my prize Armilander. I have earned you. Do not worry for no harm will come to you if you are agreeably nice to me." The smile on his face was not altogether friendly. In fact, it was apparent that the feelings he had for her were not the same as they were so long ago. His features had reprehensibly changed. It was not so much a physical alteration as it was his eyes. They were solid white. That told the tale, the true story of emptiness in his soul.

"Calot, you are a knight, not a minion of darkness." Glenfel pleaded. "Free me." She spoke low and calm. It seemed to her he was drugged or under some kind of trance.

"So you can be with the cathanels? So you can change and fly? No!" His features twisted in rage. "I will never let you go."

She wanted to say he was wrong, but that would be a lie. It was not in her nature to lie. "I can not stay with you. Come with me. Let us leave. We may turn back the tides of darkness. Your, a good man, and me..." It was a lost cause. She continued to try, but her mind knew the truth. It was her, own heart that would not accept. In the end, acceptance was not even a choice. Calot did not really hear her words. When you give yourself over, you are lost. The evil found something it could use to draw the man in. It had worked well.

"The Catelaran has taught me much." The man grew angry. "His way is best. It is the right way, the only way. I will return to my world and my time, to take my place there as a great ruler of men. That will happen soon. I will return as the hero I was meant to be." He muttered a little under his breath, a few more words. Nothing made sense. "I just have to go back. I have to kill the girl..." She had no idea what he was talking about. Was he going to kill her now? Glenfel simply did not understand. Then much louder, "They will be sorry, for the way they have treated me in the past. Just because I was different, because I was a mutant and not a full blood like them." A repulsive visage took his features. The woman did not think that it could be worse then moments before, but it was.

"Calot, you can not murder innocent people just because they are narrow-minded. You were not born to that. The creature has filled you with hate. It has poisoned you." The sound of her, own voice was weak at best.

"I do as I please Armilander! Funny, you do not look like a dragon." He drew back his hand and slapped her hard across the cheek. The force of the blow made her mind spin. Glenfel almost blacked out but desperately hung on. "You ignored me," Calot screamed at her. "I loved you, but you would not listen."

"Calot, please, free me. Free me now. We will leave here together." Glenfel knew it was over. Calot was beyond listening to anything she had to offer. It was her heart that made her try at all.

"No, I do not think so. Don't worry; however, I will return for my prize." He bit the last word off as if it was some kind of distasteful fruit. Calot turned on his right heel and left the room. The runner could not see him go out the door for it was beyond her field of vision. Instead she listened to his footsteps as they retreated. A tear fell silently from her eye. The man was lost, and there was no hope of bringing him back. No hope was a form of death, just waiting for burial.

Glenfel had lain out upon the icy slab for several hours now. Her back hurt and her arms ached. Desperately the runner tried to focus and think of a way out. She had tested her bonds a thousand times and could not find a single weak link. Fandran, had been to see her earlier after Calot had left. The wizard had made another attempt to set her free. The price, of course, would have been for Glenfel to join him. He wanted her to unite with him and the Catelaran both, and thereby become one.

The wizard had grand dreams of incredible power built on her blood. Fandran had not been pleased with her answer of course. In a fit he had screamed in rage and left, muttering deadly threats. It was so cold and dark in the room, Glenfel longed to go to sleep and not wake up at all. It did not matter as she would not change her mind. Freedom was not worth his price even at the cost of death. That was not her destiny.

Glenfel's past ancestors continued to renew her strength with their constant assault of flashes and pieces of dreams, remembrances of better days gone by and revived hopes of their return. Funny thing the runner thought that she had been cold for so long she had almost forgotten the sun's warmth altogether. Acutely now then ever before, she felt frozen. The young woman missed the light. Here in the bleak darkness of this dungeon, the dire circumstance was clear. The runner closed her eyes. When was the last time she stared up at the sky at all? She had been in the Otherworld beneath the land in the labyrinth or trudging through the rain and snow under storm filled heavens since she could recall, with and without Annon. In Salor Far Town Glenfel had found she had enjoyed the warmth of the dangerous tavern over the streets at night. It had not been her choice to be there, but it had been warm none the less.

"What had the dragons said? What did the ancestors know about the blackness? What did they really know about the Catelaran? Where was Fandran in all of this, the bigger picture?" Glenfel's mind whirled in upon itself, one thought upon another. It was better than dwelling on the dreadful sensation she had of her body going numb. Things that got too cold for too long, died. It was concerning.

"The darkness is what we do not know. It frightens us and keeps us down. It feeds stupidity and suspicion of one another. Love and courage were the best weapons to stop the misinformation of hate. That was the way ahead. Glenfel kept her eyes closed. It made it easier to concentrate. "That's it," She spoke out loud to no one. "My ancestors tried to tell me. Catelaran fears me because I am the symbol of the seasons change. I begin a new time. Armilander." The last word was an explosion of meaning in ways yet to be seen.

The room began to fill with an odd light from no specific source, as her thoughts centered on the truth. It grew quickly and so did the knowledge grow with it inside of Glenfel in unison. The memories; a thousand past lives, an entire race of dragons, flooded in. It was not a handful of recollections but an onslaught containing the knowledge of a whole species. Glenfel's body began to change and her mind with it. The woman knew her time was at hand. The process of her life raced forward, brought on by fate or perhaps the pressure of her predicament.

The entire tower gave a violent shake similar to a land quake. Annon had been walking down a hallway when it hit and ultimately lost his balance. He struck the floor hard as it happened. He recovered and rose quickly to his feet. Then he tried to gather himself together from the mental shock. Something tremendous had changed. Something in the air was so totally different; it could not be explained with mere words. The shaking had stopped, but a low rumbling sound continued for a short time and then ceased abruptly. Annon was not sure what had happened, but time had obviously run out.

The paladin rushed forward now. He turned to the right at the next corridor and heard movement. There was an open doorway just ahead. Carefully, he approached the entrance and peered in. Annon had found Glenfel. A quick glance around the room told him that she was alone. Not even guarded? The fighter walked in eagerly. His heart pounded hard with excitement. The man felt that he had succeeded at least in this one thing.

"Glenfel?" Annon spoke her name and found it sounded funny to him. In fact, he felt sort of strange too. He was light headed and just a bit dizzy. A nagging feeling in his gut yelled out, "TRAP!"

"Annon, how did you find me?" Glenfel answered the man. Her voice was musical to him. It was beautiful beyond belief. The fighter had closed the short distance from the doorway to stand beside her where she lay, spread out upon the stone dais. Glenfel, her self, had changed somehow. To his surprise, Annon felt drawn to her like never before. "Free me! We must hurry. It may already be too late to stop Calot!" Annon heard her words, but the meaning of them was lost. Glenfel's lips moved, but he no longer understood her.

The paladin shook his head viciously. He tried to clear it and to make sense of things that had turned altogether sideways. "Stop what, Armilander?" The words came out of Annon's mouth, but they were not his own. He felt suddenly like he had the strength of ten men. The man looked directly into her eyes and knew he wanted the woman. He could think of nothing else but having her for his own. A green mist filled the room. It started from the walls and grew bit by bit. It chilled the area even colder with it's' presence, but the man did not notice.

"Annon!" Glenfel screamed. "No Annon! It is not you. Look around! You are being used. Can't you feel it? Can't you see it? It is a snare!" Glenfel pleaded helplessly.

The fighter leaned down and kissed her hard. Blood filled Glenfel's mouth and she tasted the salt within it. Annon broke away and stood straight. The man found he felt wrong. "No," Glenfel mumbled, weakly. Her voice was filled with sadness matched only once before in his lifetime. That was the day of the battle within the Toleer Valley where they had first met. He remembered Glenfel feared him then. She also had been ready to die, and the hopelessness of that memory was all too real. Annon saw it in her face that day, and as he looked at her now, he saw it once again.

"You!" Annon bellowed out to the room as a whole. "You can not control me!" The fighter yelled. "You have no power over those who know the reality of your lies. I am the maker of my own destiny. Leave my presence now!" The evil mist receded and then vanished altogether. Annon's hand grasped the hilt of Balor's great ax and released it from his belt. He took it in both hands and raised it high above Glenfel. The dragon looked at him for a moment and then slowly closed her eyes. The blade struck true to the mark. The chains that had held her arms were now shattered. Annon moved quickly to her legs and used the ax again. In one experienced, fluid motion he placed the ax back in his belt. Annon then bent and slid his arms beneath her prone body. He lifted her from the platform with ease. She opened her eyes and looked at him again but said nothing. Lightly, Annon let her stand on her own. "Come!" The paladin said in a commanding voice. "We have work, to do."

She rubbed her wrists and hands to bring them back to life. Then she stomped her feet to fill them with new blood. A moment later, together, they briskly trotted down the hallway, back the way he had just come. Glenfel was slow at first, as her body hurt badly. Soon enough the pain passed or at least became tolerable. He could tell because she kept on his heels. They finally entered the main chamber where Annon had last seen the creature of darkness. It was still there. It was waiting for them, both.

"Welcome human! I have watched you for some time." The shifting form of the creature coalesced into a semblance of a man's body before their eyes. It was a dark visage of evil, barely contained in the structure of real form. The vague flashing mist continued, pulsing and shifting, present still all around the new figure. "Armilander, come to me now, and I will let you live. I will let your friend live as well" The grating vibration of the thing's voice echoed throughout the entire tower.

"No Catelaran! She will not come to you, but I have come for you! Come to scatter your essence across the wastes. I, Annon, a Paladin of the Light, will make sure you never again gain power to destroy. You will not bring further pain and death to Arrel or her inhabitants. While I live I will protect the Light. I serve Arrel and all her people." The ax was back in Annon's hand instantly, and he held it like it was a pure and perfect extension of his own body.

"You think you can destroy me?" Laughter filled the chamber as the mass of energy, seethed and pulsed before their eyes. The image of the man became less fixed and was further consumed by the mists. Was it afraid? It gathered again and held its form to some degree. Then it moved closer to Annon and Glenfel menacingly.

The Paladin was not afraid of it. The man had been made whole. He knew it. The ax was ready in his hand. He also knew this would not be an easy fight. Some part of him remembered the book he had seen in the library. The answers were there. Annon was sure of that too. Magic was a funny, unpredictable thing. There had to have been a reason the book had written to him. Shendar had told Annon once long ago that words were powerful, like tools as sharp as real weapons. They can begin and end wars, or give comfort when shared in peace. The old teacher had also told the fighter that the forest law was based on the old beliefs. Words and especially names had great importance. Annon decided he would use that knowledge.

"Armilander, I speak your name! I speak the beginning, Bethenlandra!" The tower shook with yet another land quake. The vibrating, oscillating creature before them screamed as if visibly struck by a weapon. "You are the Dragon." The man stated clearly, speaking to Glenfel directly with his mouth, the words from his heart. Annon felt the warmth of true Light, fill the room. The darkness before him vanished. He looked back to Glenfel, but she too was gone. She, the woman, had left his side forever. Somehow he knew it. The real dragon was now outside, wholly released from the bonds of Glenfel's human shape. The paladin could feel her presence.

A slight whisper in his ear raised the tiny hairs on his neck. "Where there is a beginning, there can be no fear for fear is not yet known." A hissing sound followed. "Know this however, it finds its way into all men's hearts. I will be back. You have stopped me for now, but I can and will return when the world is ready once more." The voice was hollow and distant.

"No Catelaran, I will be ready for you. I will not forget as all the other paladins have done in the past. I will teach my children about you, and they will not fail to remember. I will teach them to share the knowledge with their children, their whole families; their friends and even those they don't yet know, but will make the effort to spread the news." Annon vowed to himself and secretly prayed he would be successful.

There was no reply.

A thunderous roar could be heard from somewhere outside. "I await you Paladin." The man heard the words within his mind. There was a great feeling of loneliness held in them. It was painful to glance even for a moment into their real meaning.

Annon looked around the empty hall and satisfied himself that the Catelaran was gone and perhaps dead. If not dead it had to be at least weak or seriously crippled for now. The words did have power. The book was meant for him to read, Annon was sure. He turned from the chamber and trotted through the passageways and rooms to reach the outside. Down one long hallway and the next, the man raced. A sudden right turn in the hall brought him up short. There before the fighter's eyes was Fandran. Not the evil thing he had come to expect, the wizard of great power, but a twisted and malformed mutant of flesh and blood. Whatever Annon had successfully done to the Catelaran creature by releasing Glenfel, had also severely damaged the wizard's strength too. Just a man, perhaps he should be shown mercy? Maybe he should be given a chance? It tempered the paladin's movements. It slowed his response.

Annon started to pull Balor's ax and finish the job, but the hideous denizen of evil lunged against the side wall of the hallway. A hidden door slid open, and he was swallowed up by the unknown. The panel returned to its position, and Annon cursed his inaction silently. He had missed his opportunity. There was nothing to be done, for now. The paladin continued on, making a mental note to return to that problem soon enough.

The prince went on to meet the Armilander. He went to meet the first dragon. Of course she was not really the first of her kind, but she might as well be. It was a defining title that marked a new season of life on Arrel. It was the most important thing he had ever done. The paladin burst through the towers main entrance way and laid wide eyes upon her. She was incredible. Glenfel was terrifying and beautiful all at the same moment. The animal stood easily upon her haunches, matching the height of at least five large horses together. Her scales glistened brightly as if bejeweled with precious stones of every color in the rainbow.

Annon bowed very low in a proper greeting of respect, "Armilander, I need you. "Calot has gone to a place called the Palace of Time. He intends to do great harm there. He may have already succeeded." Wondering how he ever came to be where he was now? The big man swallowed hard. There was still more to do. Standing in the court yard, of Qualer the main tower, he began detailing the next step to their mission. The Paladin knew their task was far from over. There was still Calot to deal with too.

"Human, I will do as you ask." The reply was emotionless.

"I do not understand. What is wrong my friend?" Annon asked puzzled by Glenfel's mood. "You are still my friend." The paladin walked forward holding his hand open and out to her. "We have been companions for too long to let that go now" He tried to make his words sound comforting staring up at the enormous creature.

"I serve you, fighter, nothing more!" The response was still emotionless.

"No my friend Glenfel, you do not serve me. I need your help. I spoke your name only to stop Catelaran, nothing more." Annon pleaded before her. "You are free." The last statement the paladin spoke straight from his heart. All the dragon lore he knew told him that the Armilander could read his mind if she wanted to. In this case, Annon wanted her to. He needed both her complete and total conviction and allegiance to win.

In answer, Glenfel moved her great paw forward and leaned down. Annon climbed easily to her broad neck and seated himself as gently as he could. Warmth, beyond words, filled the man. This great beast, he had by chance encountered seemingly eons ago, trusted him. It had been fate that placed Annon in the right position and time to save her that day in the woods. Their destiny's were twisted together and locked by the fates in ways the paladin would never understand.

Longingly Annon thought of the room within the tower, where Glenfel had lain. It gripped his heart hard from inside to think of her true beauty. Annon had seen the real dragon even then. Some part of the paladin had felt the creature within Glenfel, struggling and trying to get free. She would have succeeded soon enough. However, Annon simply pushed that event ahead to suit his needs and that of Arrel.

The Armilander spread her huge wings and bounded up and into the air with ease. The clouds and storms from earlier had dissipated some. Sunlight showed brightly here and there, out from between the openings above. It was a good thing. Some tiny part of the girl that remained was thankful. It was truly fine to see the radiance again.

"We go to Arrel's Palace of Time!" The paladin heard Glenfel speak within his mind. The air itself began to shimmer around them. Dragon's could go many places faster than pure thought. The Palace of Time was far to fly, but Drellin was not going to use flight at all. The abilities of her new shape and acceptance of that were fully awake.

Dragons were real magic that defied normal limits. Glenfel was the Armilander, and that made her more powerful than all, that would come after her. The windows that connected the here and now to all the tomorrows were hers to traverse at will. She was free. That was only part of her gift.

HOME
Chapter Nineteen-Kardia, the Heart

"Stop" Annon shouted. He thought he felt the air change or some how shift. He could not find words to describe it clearly. It was just similar to the feeling he had while in the presence of evil within Qualer. It was comparable as before in the room with the Catelaran. The air had become colder again despite the sun's efforts to change the day. "We can not leave yet." The paladin saw below him the seven towers, they looked small. They were mere dots upon the landscape. With each beat of Glenfel's strong wings, the man felt the awesome power held within her body beneath him. It was a wonder. He scanned the land below. Trying to keep focused.

They circled the heights one time. They did not see anything. So the dragon and rider turned southward again to leave. Perhaps it had been nothing after all. Their destination was to stop Calot. Annon looked back. His heart sank. Something was still wrong below them. It was so wrong that the physical strength of it screamed out from the land below. There were no charn or barbarians in sight. They had stopped the Catelaran before he could send for them. This new threat was far worse. It was altogether different too. The new enemy had burst onto the land of Arrel, like lightening on a warm spring day. It announced its presence like raw thunder. The tempest had arrived.

"Glenfel, do you feel it? Did you hear it?" Annon screamed out loud so she might heed him through the wind.

"Yes! The wizard is more than alive. Because we did not kill him, Fandran now has the dragon heart, the Kardia. It is the heart of my kind. Calot must have brought it back somehow as the Catelaran wanted him too. He would have used the secrets at the Palace of Time to accomplish his task. With his success, the Catelaran's darkest desires and dreams have been made whole. The evil has returned already in a different shape from yet a different world. Somehow Fandran has used the stone's power to pull a dragon from another realm to our Arrel. Look there below upon the parapet on the northern most structure."

Annon gazed where Glenfel had told him too. The paladin finally saw it. "It's a real dragon?" Annon spoke out loud in profound surprise. One was more than he ever dreamed of seeing in his lifetime. Now there were two? A large blood red beast was perched upon the high wall. "I see it!"

"He is not an, it. He is Red. His name is Koralt." Glenfel used her memories to her best advantage to fill in the blanks.

"What is he doing here?" Annon pressed her. "How did he come to be here?"

"I told you. The stone of my ancestors is very powerful. Fandran has used it to tip the scales of time. I am to fight Koralt." The Armilander announced the last part plainly.

"No!" It was a desperate command. Annon could tell from the way Glenfel responded this was serious.

"I must and will!" Glenfel replied.

"Then I command you, No!" Annon had been driven to pure desperation. The paladin had told her she was free, but he feared for her now. Commanding her was all that he could do, to stop her.

There was no answer for several seconds. Then Glenfel replied, "You have spoken my name. I am commanded. I will not fight."

"No that is not what I meant. I do not want you hurt." Annon grasped at straws in a hopeless attempt to prevent the inevitable.

Another long silence, "Paladin, if I do not fight him, then he will simply kill me." Glenfel stated that fact clearly. "It is the way of our kind."

"I don't understand. How did he even get here? You are the Armilander. I thought all the dragons were dead." Annon still clutched at anything he could to stop her. "You are supposed to be the first."

"He comes from my past. The Kardia has that power. Fandran has brought forth Koralt by its use." She answered. Calot must have been successful in his quest. The wizard has the heart.

"Then I shall remove the Heart from Fandran's grasp." Annon readied himself for another fight. He secretly cursed his hesitance to kill Fandran in the hall only a short while ago. The book had told him he would be given an opportunity not to be wasted. Had he done just that? Action would have prevented this new turn of events. The fates were mocking him. Annon did not like that and held fast to the knowledge he was the chooser of his own destiny.

Glenfel landed gently back down on the central tower. Annon slid from the dragon's neck in a smooth, graceful motion. He did not wait or even glance back at her. Instead the paladin trotted toward the entrance of Qualer's main hall below. The Armilander spread her mighty wings and lifted up into the air once more. This should have been her greatest moment. Yet it was to be stolen from her forever. No celebration of the new season, only the immediate attack and defense of her very world. Regardless, to be alive and to fly was an inherent part of her being. The runner was free! She went higher and higher until the towers below were tiny specks on the land. Glenfel did not see Koralt as she gained elevation, but she could feel him. He was close, and he was deadly.

The sky was still mostly covered with clouds, allowing for large gaps where the bright sun attempted to warm the land. Even the cheerful brightness, did little to make the landscape more appealing. The wasteland was dead, for a reason.

A mighty rumble filled the heavens. That was in and of itself not unusual. But this was not the wind or rain, but giant reptiles fighting to the death. During the time Annon had traversed the towers, the two mighty beasts collided in mid-air. They struck with hurricane force. Glenfel bit hard into Koralt's sleek neck and tasted the blood of her own kind. His huge claws connected to the Armilander's soft underside and left gaping, grooved wounds. Blinded by the pain, Glenfel's only thought was to keep hold of her opponent regardless. To let go was to give up the only advantage she had over the powerful red creature. Their wings batted against each other uselessly as they both began to fall to the hard ground, thousands of feet below.

Annon heard what he could not see and knew in his mind what was happening outside. Since Annon had left Glenfel upon the tower's entrance, he had been at a dead run. So far the paladin had come to no resistance. The tower seemed to be totally empty of life as before. The man had mistakenly thought that Fandran was not the real threat. The Catelaran was the main concern toward the end. Annon had believed that killing the darkness or at least dispersing it would solve their problems. That had been a grievous error. He should not have taken Fandran lightly. The fighter must have been blinded by the evil, gathered here.

The vengeance he had felt since Drellin's death was now fully back in his heart. The fighter thought he had grown in favor of justice, but the scales seemed forever unbalanced. The Paladin had tried to do as Glenfel and Annon had told him to do. He had tried to embrace the bigger picture. The problem was that in doing so, Annon had lost sight of the danger Fandran was to Arrel and all he loved.

The paladin went back into the main chamber. The fighter found what he sought. Fandran was there. He was sitting on a stone pedestal near where he had seen the Catelaran. He gripped something within his hands Annon could not quite see what, clearly. Fandran had not noticed Annon enter. He was too engrossed in the object he held.

"Release the stone sorcerer!" Annon bellowed from the entrance. "Release the stone and I may yet spare your life!"

Laughter was the haunted reply. "Glenfel is dying. If you leave now, I may spare her life." The evil man taunted. He was more than proud of himself. "Even as you waste time, Calot is making sure that the magic I need is mine for the taking, forever. The Palace of Time here upon this world will no longer rule the fates. He will see to that for me. You have lost!"

Annon stood for a moment unsure of what to do. Then, just as he was about to submit, the fighter heard it. He heard it with his ears, his mind, and his heart. A mighty roar that drowned out all else racked the air. "Victory!" The Armilander was alive. Annon leaped forward with Balor's Ax already swinging. He used it as it was meant to be used. He beheaded the thing before him. To Annon, it was not a man any longer. It was part of the darkness. Without hesitation, Annon walked over and picked up the stone that had fallen with the body to the floor. It too like the Armilander was lovely to look upon. It was not large, only enough to fill the palm of man's hand. He gave it no more than a quick glance. The fighter could spare nothing more. Then, he placed it into his belt pouch for safe keeping.

The paladin turned. He stepped over the prone carcass of the misshapen little man and trotted back into the hallway away from the chamber. Annon passed one of the broad open windows on his way out. He was greeted with brilliant, warm sunlight. It was more than a pleasant site for his soul. The paladin smiled.

Annon stepped between the stone guardians at the entrance. He began to search the heavens for Glenfel. "Glenfel!" He called out loud. Annon did not find her in the courtyard and continued on out into the wastelands. He called out loud again, but no answer greeted him. Annon knew she had been victorious. He had heard her cry of victory clearly. Then the Paladin saw her. She was on the ground. The man ran for all his worth to where she lay.

The rainbow colors of her scales were masked by fresh red blood. Her eyes were half closed. There was a growing pool of blood he walked through to get to her huge head. The man stood very still and watched his friends labored breathing. "Glenfel, do not die!" Annon pleaded as he laid his head against her broad, neck. "Do not leave as Drellin did." Tears filled his eyes. He held them back. Real men do not cry. That is how he had been raised his whole life. Too, hold in his pain regardless of its level.

"Annon, you are a Paladin now." Then she lay still. Nothing moved. Her great chest had stopped altogether.

"No!" He screamed. A defiant resignation passed over him. "No!" Annon pulled out the pouch, and retrieved the stone from its depths. The, Kardia... He held it out high in front of him. He had no reason why he did it. Only hope. As he brought it forth within the light, it pulsed as if alive. Light reflected from every facet of its surface in all the colors of the spectrum. "I do not understand, yet here I ask. Here I plead. Give me the power to help Glenfel. Show me what must be done!" Annon held the dragons' heart straight out above the Armilander's head.

Slowly it happened. A glow spread and then quickly encompassed both the man and the beast. Warm light danced along her body and bathed her in its embrace. Annon's hand began to tingle, and the feeling spread up his arms and filled his body. Dizziness ran quickly through the paladin and then was gone. Before him, as he watched, the blood upon the ground dried up and then vanished. In an instant, all of the light and energy from the stone was gone. Annon gently, carefully placed it away.

"Glenfel, I can not lose you as I did Drellin. You have become part of me." The great fighter sat down heavily next to the beast. He propped himself against her massive shoulder and waited. Soon enough, he felt the warmth of life stir. Steadily it became stronger within her great body. "Glenfel?" Annon whispered aloud almost inaudibly.

The Armilander lifted her massive head to stare back at him where he lay against her. "Annon?" The welcome question, in his mind, lifted his heart and his spirit together.

The Paladin jumped to his feet and threw his hands around her neck lovingly, "Glenfel, you are alive!"

"I do not understand. What happened?" Glenfel sounded stunned or perhaps dazed.

"There is no time now. We must hurry. Calot is still a problem and very much alive. He is probably already at the Palace of Time by now." He jumped to the back of her neck and seated himself easily. She did not wait to inquire further but instead sprang to the sky.

Finally, after they had gained a great altitude she questioned him again. "You have not answered? What happened?"

"You were hurt. I was worried." Annon tried to sound casual.

"I do not seem to remember," Glenfel replied.

"It's okay. Everything is okay now! We have lost too much time. We must go after Calot. Fandran is dead. There is only one left, and we will not let him accomplish one more wrong against the light. "

HOME
Chapter Twenty-Another Good-bye

The Palace of Time was located at the top of the world. It lay below them; built into the rocks of an island surround by the great barren sea. Its walls were purest white as if carved from the bleached coral itself. It was enormous even from their great height, gliding above. The stories about the place were legend. Greater than even Qualer, it was a sanctuary of knowledge. Evil hated understanding, as it was the eternal nemesis of dread.

Annon knew Calot was there somewhere. The building took most of the island, much like a lighthouse or beacon. They landed softly upon the ground near the entrance. Annon slid from Glenfel's broad neck.

"He is a paladin for the darkness. I defend the Light." Annon spoke more to assure Glenfel then himself. He unconsciously patted Balor's ax with his right hand and started off toward the courtyard. The Armilander watched still as stone, as her friend moved off to face his own destiny.

The fountain before Annon sparkled and danced. The Palace of Time was a wondrous place. Funny, as Annon passed through the entrance into the central area of the garden he noticed all sound had been dulled somehow. The brave fighter could barely hear his own boots stepping on the small stones of the yard.

"Calot, do not hide, come and face your death." Annon bellowed his challenge at the top of his lungs. No answer came, only the soft, muffled sound of the fountain broke the silence.

Then finally, Annon heard the challenge answered. "Stop there weakling. Who do you challenge? Beware!" Calot stepped out from behind a great pillar that braced up a smaller white structure near the water's edge.

"I seek the foul thing that crawled this way. Strange, it looked just like you." Annon goaded the man.

"I have the sword!" Calot's hatred rang out. "Mortal!"

"I have the ax to match you!" Annon returned.

"If you admit defeat now, I may spare you," Calot replied and moved closer as he spoke.

"I offer the same mercy to you." Annon's smile widened. Without hesitation, Calot leaped forward. Annon ducked skillfully out of the way. The evil knight only missed him by half a hand's span, in length. He had tried to behead Annon with the huge broadsword. The big man did not think his enemy was well skilled with the weapon. The fighter appeared clumsy. It missed. Annon had felt the wind in its passing. He then brought the great, ax to bear. The water within the fountain mirrored and even echoed the clang of metal as their weapons met and met again. It was a match to write songs about that should only be told in the courts of high kings.

The ax flew from Annon grasp as the great sword struck his hand. Kicking his leg out automatically Annon hit Calot hard. The dark fighter was down on the ground and on his back with the blow. Annon leaped upon him, and they rolled back and forth before the fountain. Calot's sword dropped from his hand too and was replaced by a deadly dagger. It was clear as crystal and sparkled with its own light. It also was one of the weapons once held by the Paladins'.

Closer and closer the sharp edge came toward Annon's throat. He watched fixated on the glowing surface and remembered what Glenfel had said. "You are a Paladin." It was a statement of fact. It filled him with renewed energy, and Annon shifted his weight and thereby away from the knife with unbelievable ease. It slid instead into the dirt beside his head. Calot cursed.

The evil knight pulled the blade free and they rolled again. This time Annon was ready. Instead of pushing against the blade, the prince yielded and turned. It gained him the advantage he knew it would. Now on top of Calot, he grabbed the enemy's wrist and turned the edge. It went into Calot's body like butter. The open gash pumped out blood like a fresh spring in the desert. He made a pitiful effort to pull it free. Then Calot died. Annon stood up, away from the corpse.

"Thank you, Paladin!" The voice was soft. The tone of it was sweet beyond compare. "I owe you a great debt."

Annon jumped and turned to face the new threat head-on. He then saw it was just a woman. She was not more than a few feet away. She stood within the entrance to the smaller room near by. Her hair was solid white. Her body was ageless, and her skin was the color of milk. She was striking. The soft rose colored dress she wore only added to her beauty. "No! You owe me nothing." Annon replied. "I have collected payment enough!" He looked back to where Calot's still body lay on the ground.

Within his mind, he heard the dragon. "We must go."

Annon looked directly toward the woman he was sure had to be the Time Keeper and bowed. He did not believe she was a threat to him, but he still kept his eyes upon her as he did so. Annon had made too many mistakes. He was trying not to repeat the cycle.

"Wait, Paladin! I can give you Drellin if you but stay a while. It is very lonely here." The woman walked out into the yard a few more paces.

Drellin's memory raced through his mind fresh and bright. Annon heard her lovely voice, remembered her kind ways and her beauty that surpassed even the woman before him. Drellin had been a mutant, but she had been merely a woman to him. Nothing more and nothing less and that had been enough to capture his heart. Annon shook his head abruptly. "No. I do not want your magic! No tricks and no illusions. She is gone, and you can not give me that reality." Annon grew alert with his anger. "You will not muddy her memory with your lies!"

"It is not magic. I can make her real. I am the timekeeper. In time she still lives." The seductive answer was everything Annon wanted to hear.

Once more he felt torn. "No. It is a tempting offer, but I cannot go back. Drellin is alive in my heart, and that is where I will keep her forever. " The Paladin continued on forward. He walked through the far gate out of the yard and to where his big reptilian friend waited. He threw his arms around Glenfel's huge neck and felt the wetness of tears, ever in check at the corners of his eyes. For many moments there were no words. There was a calm, happy silence the two companions shared, well earned by both.

"Will you return?" The fighter finally choked out the question. Meaning clearing, was this the last time they would ever see each other again?

"I will take you to Qualer first. It is far to get home from this place." The big beast seemed to smile, if that were possible." She bent her arm and offered him to remount. He complied. Moments later the world shimmered and Qualer was now below them, instead of the Palace. It was nearly instantaneous. Travel as fast as thought it self? Was it another, gift or a different level of formality in her abilities?

They circled twice above the huge structures. All was quiet. All was well. Then she landed, at the edge of Qualer's entrance. "I must fly now. I must leave you. The Cathanels, those born as I, are out there. I must look for them." Glenfel's answer was filled with warmth. "Goodbye, my friend. You are finally the Paladin I knew you were all along!'

Annon watched as her great wings spread wide. Gracefully she bounded to the far heights of heaven, above the world. He stood there and waited for a long while until he could no longer see her in the distance. "Friend!" He called after her with his heart full to the limit. Goodbyes were hard. The paladin had said too many of them in his lifetime.

Annon picked up what gear he still retained, smiled to himself offhandedly and thought of Dalina. He looked back at the magnificent Tower of Qualer and thought of the Time Keeper's offer to restore his beloved Drellin. "You are past my love. I would have to go back to be with you. I cannot. I will always carry you with me." Annon turned away and started the long trek south.

"Dalina, Mist Flower." He liked the way it sounded. Annon paced himself for the journey ahead. "I return a Paladin of the Light. Our world is quiet now!" He spoke to no one, but himself. He let out a small sigh of regret. He thought wistfully about Glenfel and wondered why he had not asked her to fly him home. "Oh well, I guess I need the exercise." He smiled broadly and walked on into the night. Where did he leave Morgane again? A sad smile touched his handsome face. There was always hope.

#The end.

HOME
Sneak Peak

Armilander, the Dragon

A Beginning...

The sound of footsteps echoed softly within the stone, towers' near pitch black darkness. Trath's heart beat hard, fast and altogether too loudly in his own ears. He was sure that the sound of it too, echoed against the very walls like thunder, or at least it seemed so. Trath was not a thief. He was not an intruder by his standards at all, but a seeker and a true adventurer. That gave him a kind of free reign in such matters. That is in the way he thought of such things anyway. Trath was respectful of the history and legend of this tower, this place and yet mindful that he was an outsider.

An ugly past it held throughout the land, here in the cold, deep north. The silence of this great citadel had been unbroken for ages without number. The mysteries, Trath sought to possess for so long, we're here, all around him. Trath could feel them in the air as if he could tangibly breathe them in and know them all by his own, steadfast will and desire. That was his dream, it had always been. Now Trath intended to manifest that desire into a reality. No matter what it may cost, the price would be worth everything. Trath would pay gladly.

The huge, double doors that marked the main hall, stood menacing in their magnificence. They were carved with the features of a thousand races, most of which were long since gone from the face of this world. The empty eyes of those images beckoned to Trath eerily, drawing him on. It was a soundless invitation Trath gathered his wits, took a long, slow deep breath and made his way across the open expanse of the promenade. He did not stumble. He did, however, keep his pace precise and measured with deliberate intent. Trath kept an open eye over his shoulder, but no one followed. He was alone. Trath traversed the short set of black, onyx stairs upward to the main walkway. It was so hard to control his excitement he could not stand it, but he did not want to make a fatal error now. He did not want to allow even the slightest chance of a mistake to occur.

The onyx beneath his feet was beautiful, like everything else in the tower. Yet he paid no attention to the elegant craftsmanship. Beyond the color and flawlessness of its hard exterior, images danced in the darkness just below the surface. Souls perhaps trapped there in the very stone used to make the awe-inspiring, grand entrance. However, it did not matter to the man. It especially did not matter to the wizard Trath longed to be.

Hanging onto the momentum of his actions, Trath grasped the great bar that locked the opening of the central doorway and pulled it free with an ominous, woosh sound. It swung wide, and Trath saw a lifetime of his imaginings come true in the space of a handful of precious moments. The room before him was full of gigantic expertly polished mirrors from the floor to the ceiling. Even in the near complete blackness, he could just make out the actual outline of his own shape as it danced across their surfaces, reflecting and re-reflecting back and forth upon their tremendous, magical façade. The room was an enormous circle. Trath took his first step inside, slowly. Then with growing confidence, he went quickly to its center and stood ever so still. He waited.

He waited!

Just as Trath thought the place must be vacant and powerless, a light blinded him. It came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. With lightning speed, the panels along all the walls came instantly to life at the same, exact moment. It was incredible, a site beyond words.

Boldly now, Trath glanced about the room. The huge chair which was the focal point of the circumference called to him. His heart raced, and his mind whirled with greater excitement then before, if that were possible. Trath went forward and seated himself with the pomp and presence of a king coming to his own thrown. Trath did not have to try hard to give that impression, because it was exactly how he felt. This was the realization of a lifetime spent searching, wishing and above all longing for in his deepest dreams.

Brilliant colors danced across each mirror in turn. Then, Trath spoke low, in a very commanding manner, just as he had been taught so long before by Ren. The crazy old cleric had raised him like a father in this wild, lawless land of the North Country. The man had taken him in as a boy when he had been left to die in the forest. Trath's heritage being of a skeptical nature, normal's' thought it better to leave his fate to the wolves. Instead, Ren had given Trath a life, a home, and all his knowledge before he died his untimely death. Like all good ambitious sons' Trath had helped him find peace at the end of the road. Perhaps it had come a bit sooner then Ren would have liked, but the outcome was the same. Trath now put those studies to his own use.

"They will be sorry they cast me out. They will pay when I have learned all the lessons this place has to give. I will know all the secrets, and then I will rule." Smugly, Trath laughed out loud, low. It was a perhaps thick irony of fate that Farndran had spoken much the same sentiments. "Show me the Armilander!" Trath commanded with authority and gestured toward the first mirror. The colors stopped swirling, and with great speed formed a brilliant picture. The Dragon of Dragons' created of myths and rainbow magic, the Armilander stood before him. The clarity of the image gave the impression of actual reality. A ripple of fear passed down the back of Trath's neck, but then it was quickly replaced with the strength of horrible greed.

Turning to the next mirror, Trath again gestured. "Now, show me the past. Show me, Shendar. He will be my new teacher." The last statement was another unfortunate turn and twist of the fates. Shendar had stood for the Light his whole life, now his memory and image would work to serve Trath's personal desires. The adage regarding the drunkenness of power would lay the path of Trath's future into the dark. The mirror complied and moved at his command none the less. Once more the desired surface brought forth a magically, created image, this time of an old man.

"Show me the ending of all things magic and the beginning of all things new. Show me the Armilander's birth." The third mirror shifted for a long time in response. It finally revealed a beautiful golden dragon and a small clutch of eggs. They lay safe in a huge cavern, warmed by a live volcano, resting beneath the surface of the land.

Glancing about, there were still four mirrors yet awaiting Trath's command. To look upon them sent a silent message through the man's body, a thrill of power that coursed into his soul. "Seven!" Trath thought to himself. "Seven Towers, seven mirrors, and seven worlds within the shadow of a single sun, I will rule them all." Trath smiled wide, an unpleasant grin indeed. "Shendar, you will now teach me. I want to know of the Armildander. Teach me of dragons and magic!" The face of the old master starred back at Trath from the surface of the mirror and proceeded as ordered. The image had no choice because it had no soul. It was merely an echo of the original, lost in the memory of the past. Now, however, it was also the slave of the future.

The castle shook and rumbled with pure power. The lessons began...

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### Notes and Acknowledgements

This Book received NANOWRIMO AWARD 2018

** **

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All rights reserved, copyright by A. Foster aka Annette Foster

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