 
### The Greylands: Volume III

### Susan Skylark

Copyright 2013 Susan Skylark

Smashwords Edition

Revised 2018

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

Table of Contents:

In Search of Stories

Sacrifice

The Three Kindreds

Other Books by this Author

Sample Chapters

### Author's Note: These are independent stories, though names and themes may be similar, there is no relation between them.

### In Search of Stories:

It was one of those days where adventure seemed to lurk around the corner, the very wind sang its own wild siren song to the soul, but adventures did not exist in a place like this, neither did they assault so lowly a personage as either of the two boys walking slowly along the path, seemingly in pursuit of game but more likely so lost in one another's company that a rabbit might sit in the path before them, unmoving as the earth, and not catch their attention. The feeling of the day was such that the stories tried grandly but often failed to catch its glory, at least if stories as such were allowed in such a place and time. For though the trees were aflame with color about them and the evening sun gilded everything it touched, as the wind played among the golden grasses and hinted at cooler months ahead, and the chorus of geese overhead confirmed it, they walked on nearly impervious to the delight to soul and senses about them, for such was not considered a needful thing in their drear lives. In fact, joy as such an autumnal evening might purvey was considered anathema, the least hint of it was swiftly punished by well meaning parents and neighbors, which deadened the senses of those so afflicted and stifled their souls therewith.

For man had no soul; he was nothing but a rather intelligent beast, prone to suffer for a season and then pass into oblivion after all his strivings, with none the wiser that he had ever been or gone. It was an unhappy thought but it was the feeling of the times, and as such it afflicted the two poor souls wandering amidst the golden wood quite grievously, for their age made them quite prone to such fancies and suppressing them was akin to pulling teeth, but it was such rebellion that had driven them into this woody solitude to mourn their aching hearts.

Sighed Bayard, "days such as this make me long to think things for which our elders might well chasten us, if not worse!"

His companion agreed, "but it is for our own good that such thoughts are forbidden, for they bring only passing joy, which makes the sorrows of life much harder to bear. What point is there in encouraging something that only leads to greater pain? But how I wish our elders were wrong! My heart of hearts yearns to run through those hills and rejoice in the sheer joy of living, but alas that there is nothing much worth singing over." They walked drearily on, neither consoled by the words of the other but finding a modicum of comfort in the shared grief and presence of his friend.

Said Bayard, "why is it that such things are forbidden? The sorrows and suffering come regardless and must be endured as much as winter and rain. Would not a little joy be like Spring in our lives? It seems that winter is more bearable for the promise of spring; a life with only winter would not be much worth living."

Archer's eyes were wide with such treasonous speech but deep within the darkest corners of his own heart, a rebellious little voice laughed for joy. But then he began to think and to wonder, why were such simple pleasures denied? Why was it a crime to pursue joy? If the sorrows must be borne, why not the joys of life also? But his were a grim and sullen folk, who spent all their short lives toiling in useless labor, ever with the threat and gloom of danger and sorrow lurking about them, set to pounce at any moment, most often in the guise of men faithful to one tyrant lord or another or to no one but themselves. Joy was not encouraged, for it might draw attention from the minions of a ruling tyrant, so it was ruthlessly suppressed from the youngest age and earliest appearances. For there was no law but the whims of dark and distant tyrants and one did what one must to survive.

Archer queried of the air, "they take what little we have upon a whim and may abuse us as they please for their own amusement or benefit, but of what benefit is it to deny us even the pleasure of a sunset, for what harm is there in that?"

"Dangerous ponderings indeed lad," said a man's voice coming alongside them. Lost in thought and brooding as they were, neither had noticed the plainly clad stranger approaching openly upon the way. They both jumped, exchanged a horrified look that perhaps their doom was upon them, and then began to relax minutely when they discovered that the man wore a friendly smile and his sword remained safely in its sheath.

"Who are you?" gasped Bayard, "And how come you to say such things? We will not stand to have tales carried to the wrong ears." The man laughed, which sounded strange to their young ears that seldom heard such a pleasant sound but which broke the last remaining tension. They knew here was no threat but perhaps a sympathetic ear or even a bold man willing to break all traditions and laws and flaunt his joy to the world!

The man continued walking, forcing the boys to resume their own meander lest they lose so interesting a companion, he said, "I am no one of significance but no threat either. Is it for such rebellious talk, at least as most would see it, that you walk alone in the wide world for a time?"

Archer grinned weakly, for smiling was not a habit common to his folk, "such are our crimes indeed. How is it you so blatantly defy tradition?"

The man laughed once more, a sound as rich and deep as the river that flowed placidly alongside them. He continued, "your folk I fear, are those who defy their very natures. It is not for man to be grim and solemn all his days but to find joy in its proper time and weep when he must, but never to be slave to either pleasure or despair. Some folk find it to their advantage to suppress such feelings in others, for they have a way of causing other uneasy thoughts to enter one's mind which are hazardous to said folk."

Bayard exclaimed, "how can joy be dangerous?"

The stranger replied, "if men are cattle, to work all their weary days and then cease from the earth with neither great sorrow nor great joy, though I fear you cannot escape the sorrow as easily as one can dampen joy, and there is nothing ever after and no point in the interim, then no one seeks anything greater or turns their hopes to brighter days. All life is pain and suffering and perhaps the sooner ended the better. Such is the view that enslaves your folk. For fear of losing what little they have they have given up everything worth living for. They live in dread and gloom and fear and find no purpose or hope or satisfaction in all their weary trials and only welcome death will cease their strivings and agony."

Archer said, "you speak truly sir, for such is our weary life and it was but young hearts and a gay morning that drew us from our usual toils to hope and to mourn for a little before returning to our drab and colorless lives. But how is it that you speak of joy so freely when what you said is the way of the world?"

The man smiled as if well practiced in the art, "it is perhaps the only way you know, but it is not the way the world was meant to be; there are a few bold rebels who dare to hope it might be set aright."

Said Bayard, "how can the world have been meant to be anything? Are we all not dust and nothing before or after? With no meaning or purpose or hope? The world is as it is and nothing a few optimists say can change that."

The man nodded, "many think as you, for they see the suffering and the pain and wonder that there could be anything good or right or true in a world where such things abound, but have you ever wondered why you would wonder why things were not as they should be? If the world were right, we would not know that it is wrong, any more than a fish knows anything about being wet until you force him out of the water. All men wonder why things are not better or different, thus implying that there is some standard we expect of reality yet it is not the way of the world, therefore something must be wrong, else why would we feel discontent? If this world were as it should be we would not be surprised by any amount of pain or suffering or sorrow, but just say that things are as they are and think no more of it, but we are always horrified when some new tale of woe besets us rather than taking it placidly like cattle, who bellow for a day over their lost calves but then forget them entirely the next."

The eyes of the boys were wide enough that the man feared they might fall from their sockets, but he continued, "strange ideas I know, but thoughts that lurk deep within each human soul, if only we sit and ponder long enough they are sure to peek out now and then, and such ponderings are exactly what your dread lords wish to prevent thus they do not encourage joy or any other emotion that might accidentally rub up against the soul and remind mere men that they are more than flesh and bone."

"You are mad!" said Bayard aghast, but a secret hope shone in his eyes, "Such is not what we were taught!"

Laughed the man, "weigh what you have been taught against my words and see which your heart deems true. Why do joy and sorrow haunt our lives if we are merely beasts? Why are you not content to live and die and then be nothing more? They can try and deny you joy but they cannot keep you from discovering that there is more to mortal man than this shell of clay!"

Archer gasped, "oh, that it might be true! So many longings and questions have been ignored or suppressed that I begin to believe as they, yet I cannot fathom a life lived in vain and weary toil. Is there truly something more?"

The man nodded and said, "for those who seek it, the way will be opened yet it is not a path easily pursued, for all the powers of this world and worse, fell powers beyond mortal comprehension, despise that path and seek to subvert or destroy all who might take it. At its end lie things more great and wonderful than mortal imagination can desire yet the road is weary, dark, and dangerous though not without hope and joy."

"Of what do you speak?" asked Archer, barely restraining his enthusiasm.

But the man's reply was lost in a groan of pain, as he clutched at the arrow suddenly protruding from his chest and fell to his knees. The boys stared aghast at their ephemeral companion, not knowing what was happening or even if it was real. The man gasped, "remember what I have said, for death may well be the price you pay to pursue true life, but it is well worth it in the end..." He trailed off as he fell forward and lay sprawled upon the grass, unmoving.

The nightmare only grew worse, for it was no dream but terrifyingly real. Six mounted men rode swiftly upon the scene from the direction the arrow had come. They drew rein around the morbid little gathering and held their swords at the ready. All were clad in varying degrees of black, red, and silver and every eye was cold as the depths of a winter night. The boys drew closer together and watched in horrified wonder as one of the taller men dismounted, ignored the two boys, and approached the still form upon the ground. He turned over the prone form and a small smile appeared on his lips but did not touch his steely eyes. He faced his master and said, "he is dead my lord, but certainly the villain you were in pursuit of."

"A pity that," muttered the most richly clad of the group, "for it is so much more interesting and informative when a live specimen can be obtained, but then they are also much more trouble to deal with and this guarantees that his vile tongue is forever silenced. It is just as well I suppose." The lord then turned his frigid gaze upon the terrified boys and said, "and what of you wretched peasant children? How long have you known this man? What has he told you?"

Fear froze their tongues, until one of the soldiers rode forward and held Bayard at sword point, at which he said, "he came upon us quite suddenly in the woods while we were out hunting. He said many strange and troubling things in the partial hour we spent in his presence."

Said the lord, "have you any foolish notions of looking deeper into those matters this man may have broached?"

Archer shivered, "he told us nothing but vagaries and things which go against all the laws and traditions of our folk. How can we pursue such things when we know nothing about them and they violate all we hold dear?"

The lord smiled grimly and said, "see that you do not or his fate shall be your own. Such men are hunted down and destroyed like the beasts they are." As he spoke, his minion afoot drew his sword and took the head of his fallen foe, as if it were some sort of grisly trophy.

He held the grotesque thing up for the terrified boys to behold and said, "such is the ignoble end of all his kind. If you ever need a reminder, you can meet your old friend, or at least what is left of him, upon the Traitor's Wall in Sangoria." He thrust his trophy into a bag and remounted his horse.

Both of the boys were sick with terror and disgust, which pleased his lordship quite well as he said, "you have seen what awaits such traitors. When next we meet, I hope to see you have remained faithful to your lords and masters or you know what will come of you." With that, the entire party turned their horses and rode swiftly out of sight and hearing.

The boys exchanged a horrified look and ran home as quick as they might, not liking the idea of remaining alone with a headless corpse in the falling dark and in fear that the evil men might return. Out of breath, they were forced to return to a slower pace, but still neither could speak about the strange revelations and the horrors they had just witnessed. The first stars were making their appearance when they finally reached the village and each returned silently to his own home, but neither could tell their concerned parents why they looked as if they had met some great terror in the woods or why they went to bed without speaking to anyone or eating anything. A raven sat upon a thatched roof and watched the boys return in utter terror and flee into their pathetic abodes; it squawked a laugh and vanished into the deepening night.

Sleep was long in coming, but when it finally came it was not a restful thing, for it seemed the terrors of the day inspired strange and uneasy dreams. Bayard stood on a broad plain, but it was broad in sense rather than by sight, for all about a thick fog shrouded the world and dismal grey clouds lowered overhead, while an incessant drizzle fell upon the weary traveler. He began to walk, for there seemed nothing else to do in such a place. Here and there he saw men busy at some task but they never noticed his passing or felt any inclination to approach, for they seemed quite intent on their business and indifferent to all else. Here a man dug a pit, there another sat upon the piled dirt, proud as a king, there another filled in the holes, one sat upon the ground in dejection, refusing even to move, and others fought over a hole or a dirt pile and a furtive looking man darted in between the various holes and piles, as if he hoped to gain thereby at the expense of others. Bayard looked on, wondering what all the fuss was about. Who would weary themselves, let alone fight in such a dismal place?

He felt drawn forward and even though he stood still, it felt as if he moved, or perhaps the entire plain upon which he stood moved in a certain direction. He obliged the strange feeling by walking in the direction the whole earth seemed intent upon moving. After what seemed a lifetime, with countless figures engaged in the same activities he had witnessed previously darting about in the fog, he saw that towards which the whole world was moving. Before him gaped a fissure perhaps two feet wide but infinitely deep and long, and into it plunged all the hapless creatures that seemed to be standing unknowingly upon its brink while the continual movement of the plain drove them in. Bayard tried to stop, tried to run in the opposite direction, but he could do nothing, for the pit seemed to reach out and grab him and draw him inexorably into its gaping maw. As he drew nearer to what he hoped was oblivion, even that pitiful hope was dashed as he felt such horror and terror and sorrow and malice coming from that rent in the earth that he wished with all his heart that it were mere nothingness.

All the dreadful plain about him seemed alive with joy and wonder compared to what he felt from the depthless maw before him. He wept in agony, for it seemed there was nothing to keep him from falling in and to fall forever with nothing but those uneasy horrors for company, which made all the trials and sorrows of our own poor world seem a very joy beside such a fate. Before the great mouth could swallow him forever, however, he felt his eyes drawn upward and a single ray of light breached the sullen grey clouds and for a moment, Bayard's heart quivered with such joy he feared it might burst. He looked to the source of that light, and for a moment caught just the hint of such color, light, sound, and scent that mortal tongues can neither describe nor minds comprehend such wonders. Then the clouds drew together and all traces of that wonder were gone, but they would haunt the boy all the rest of his days, but so too was gone the gaping maw and the busily futile men. Bayard sighed with relief at salvation from the pit but also in despair at the loss of such wonder.

He glanced about him and found a world yet wrapped in fog but no longer dull and drear but alight as if with the morning sun and in that bright place he found a ghost. Or at least what he took to be a ghost, for though the nobler tales could not be told, there was no proscription against tales dark and dreadful in which such wraiths were wont to lurk. But here stood a man in form and feature as if he yet walked the earth under the sun, but the boy knew well he did not. He seemed as real as the boy, perhaps even more so. Bayard began to wonder if the apparition was not perhaps more real than himself. He seemed no different than the man they had met earlier that day, save perhaps some aspect of his person seemed to radiate joy or light or both, though Bayard could not tell which or from whence it sprung.

He was a bit nervous in the man's presence, no longer out of mortal dread at undead ghouls, but because here was something or someone totally beyond his experience or comprehension. The man's words that day had startled the boy, his death had horrified him, the meeting of the dark men had unnerved him, and the strange vision of the grim world and grimmer pit had completely terrified him. What more could be done this day to upset Bayard's greatly abused sensibilities? He stared at the apparition and the phantom gazed back, seemingly quite amused with the whole ordeal though Bayard could see nothing at all funny in the matter. Finally he could bear it no longer and spoke, as it seemed the ghost might stand there forever and say nothing.

"You are dead?!" gasped the boy.

The man smiled, "perhaps."

Bayard gaped, "I saw the whole thing!"

"Yes," said the imperturbable figment.

"But?" sighed the boy.

"Yes?" queried the phantom.

"Are you dead?" asked the boy, now quite given up on the idea of comprehending anything that was happening on the queerest day of his life.

"Mortally speaking," said the man, "but then one man's entire lifespan is only a blink in the eye of eternity, that I wonder now why we make such a great fuss about it and seem to think it is all the time we have."

"I do not understand," said the thoroughly confused boy.

The man grinned, "do you not remember anything I told you?"

The boy sighed, "you had only just begun, and with everything after, it was quite easily overlooked."

The man nodded thoughtfully, "you are right of course. Already I begin to forget the narrow and slanted view of things that mortality affords. Things are much clearer now and there is no question about what is truly important."

"What is going on?" asked the desperate boy, whose senses could stand no more metaphysical abuse at the moment.

The man said, "what you take for a dream was a rare mortal glimpse at things through the eyes of eternity."

The boy was on the verge of collapse, "what?"

The man smiled, "you just had the privilege of witnessing what very few see, save at the very end of their lives as they pass from life, as you call it, into life as those beyond what you call reality know it. That is, from a living death into true life." The boy still did not understand. The man sighed, this would be harder than he thought. He said, "that gloomy plain was a metaphor for life as you know it: all useless toil and despair. Men were busy about their self-important tasks, which appeared truthfully as the tediousness that they are, and were proud of or fought over things which matter not at all, until life fails them and they find themselves upon the point of death and on the brink of that horrible pit into which you nearly fell. Only too late do they realize their folly, that they have neglected that which is most important and find themselves forever separated from all that really matters in the world and beyond it. That little ray of light or joy or whatever you might call it was the briefest glimpse into what lies beyond for those who care to seek it."

"What is it?" asked the stunned boy.

The man smiled, "that you must discover for yourself when your own time comes, if you decide to follow such a course."

The boy frowned, "what do you mean I must choose to follow such a course?"

The man said, "all men are called to follow that road and find what waits at its further end but few are they that choose to set foot upon that path or remain faithfully upon it until the very end. As I said, it is neither easy nor free of danger but it is well worth the effort."

"How do I find such a path?" asked the anxious boy.

The man said, "this vision was sent that you might start upon that path if you are willing and also that you might escape the grave danger that will soon fall upon you should you remain in your village. You must set out with all haste if you wish to save your life, but more importantly your soul. More you will learn if your heart remains true and your vision clear."

"True to what?" asked the confounded boy.

The man smiled, "true to all that is right and good and wonderful. True to the Power that brought the worlds into being and He who calls all men to this path though few enough heed His call. Now all is confusion and mystery but soon enough you will come to understand if you but remain true."

The boy sighed, "why must you speak in riddles?"

The man smiled, "it is not yet the time or place for us to speak freely, but remember what you have seen and heard this night. If you love your life and your soul, flee from all that you once knew. You go not alone."

Suddenly all was darkness about him and then he was wide awake. The moon was heavy in the small window and all the house was abed, but Bayard knew he would find no rest this night. He dressed quietly and crept from the house. The village was silent about him as he gazed at the moon and wondered at all that had passed this day. His entire life had been turned on its head! But could such as he possessed be truly called life? There was something more, he felt it to the very core of his being but could not yet imagine what it was. What was he to do? Could he simply flee home based upon a bad dream and the words of a dead stranger? But there was something in his words and in those visions that offered something he had never felt in his entire life: hope. He would most likely get himself killed but he knew there was no way he could remain any longer at home.

As he contemplated these things alone in the moonlight, another midnight sojourner broke his reverie. There stood Archer, with eyes bright and wide in the moonlight and the same astonished grin on his face. Their eyes met and they smiled at one another for a moment and knew that each had had a strange night. Without a word, they vanished from the gaze of the benevolent moon and anyone who might be out of bed at such a strange hour. Their families awoke to find them gone without a trace and muttered about dark things in the night and the evils that haunted the unhappy world, but such was to be expected in a world without joy and their parents bore it well, for certainly those wretched lads had ceased from suffering the various torments that life could afford and were now well beyond all reach of sorrow and pain, for this was their only solace.

Three days later, a troop of soldiers rode into the village and its leader demanded to see each nearly grown lad, but he did not find the boys among them and demanded that all be brought forth. "Are these all your pitiful sons?" demanded the dark soldier.

The quavering father of one of the fled youths said, "two of our boys vanished in the night three days ago, otherwise these are all the lads that remain to us."

"Not any longer," snarled the soldier and he motioned for his men to round up the young men and marched them out of the village; none ever knew what came of them. The parents of the vanished boys found some comfort in that their children had not met such an end, if any comfort could be found in such things.

"Where are we going?" gasped Archer of Bayard as they jogged along in the night.

Bayard laughed and relished the strange sensation, feeling free as he never had before. Whatever came of their future, at least the dread of their past was left far behind. He was giddy with excitement and the first stirrings of hope and joy that he had ever allowed himself to feel in living memory. He panted, "I do not know but for the moment I do not care. The very joy of living is upon me and it is long in coming thus it must be thoroughly enjoyed." Finally they ceased their headlong flight into the darkness and leant heavily against a great oak while they caught their breath.

"And where are you heroes off to?" came a chirruping voice. They glanced around, looking for the source of the words but could see little now that the moon was low on the horizon and the wood was thick about them. "Up here!" laughed the hoarse voice. They gaped like toddlers at the sea but could see only a little splotch of white in the lower branches of the tree. But after their tumultuous day, nothing was like to surprise them anytime soon. Finally they were able to make out a magpie perched there, peering at them with eyes far too keen for any simple bird. He laughed when finally he caught their eye, "well?"

Bayard could not help smiling in spite of himself, for a talking bird seemed a rather anticlimactic end to their day. He laughed, "we are not sure, but anywhere seems as likely at the moment. We were just told to leave home."

The strange bird nodded far too sagely for something of the avian ilk and said, "you were wise to heed such advice but it is not so wise to run off without a destination. You are like as not to run straight into the hands of those that pursue you!"

Archer smiled, "and what might you recommend, oh bird who knows far too much?"

Said the bird with a wink, "I shall see to it that you go not alone." He leapt into the air and vanished into the dark.

The vague grey light of early morning crept into the depths of the wood, both boys were exhausted by the previous day's ordeals and needed no coaxing to find a well hidden place to rest. Hunger roused them early in the afternoon as they crept from their leafy bower, hoping to find something to eat but neither had packed anything for a journey and both were quite stiff from their strange sleeping arrangements and unaccustomed exercise. They stretched, quenched their thirst and washed a bit in a muddy stream, and then took to the road once more. As they walked, they spoke of their dreams and the talking bird and of the words of the stranger and wondered what the future might hold. They were penniless wanderers but they had never been so excited in all their short lives. Whatever lay ahead must certainly be better than all that had gone before.

As the shadows began to lengthen, they found themselves coming to a small village upon whose edge stood an inn. Unlike inns in every other story you might read, this one and most in this particular world was highly uninviting to strangers, for there was no trace of singing, banter, stories, or even a game of dice. It was peopled by some of the scariest looking men you can imagine, for no one else dared travel abroad in those days and no trace of mirth was to be found in the place. The boys peeped in at the dreary scene, having hoped to find a generous landlord who might exchange a few scraps for a night of menial labor, but the fellow behind the counter looked as hard as the soldiers they had met only the day before and there was something of a sinister look in his eyes that they did not like at all. They wisely chose to move on quickly and lost all hope of finding something to satisfy their hunger. Their movements however did not go unnoticed. As they vanished once more into the nocturnal shadows, they acquired a silent shadow of their own.

They lay down in a secluded glade, and though exhausted from their recent adventures and the rigors of a day on the road, their complaining stomachs threatened to keep them awake long into the night. A branch cracked and a shadow loomed tall in the night; the fickle light of the rising moon gleamed on the edge of the bared sword. The boys tried to retreat further into the darkness but knew it was folly to turn their backs on such a foe. It would be better to face such an end with their enemy before them. But death did not come quickly as they had feared, for the man put up his sword and a quiet laugh echoed through the glade, "you certainly do need an escort it seems, else you will starve before ever you reach your destination, which I was told you do not even have."

The boys exchanged a relieved smile and crept from the shadows. Bayard said, "please sir, tell us what strange story we have fallen into?"

The man smiled, "each man's life is a strange story but none knows the telling until all is said and done. I only happen to share a few chapters with you until you are wise enough to continue on alone."

Archer asked, "who are you, what is your business, and how did you find us?"

The man laughed, "my name is Roland and I am afraid my business pertains to keeping two hapless wanders out of trouble until they decide to seek company elsewhere. As to the finding, let us just say that little birds sometimes carry tales."

The boys laughed in relief to think they were not the only ones to have seen such a creature. He then proceeded to offer them a share of the meager supply of food he carried and then it was all to bed, for questions might wait until the morrow. Their hunger sated, the boys drifted easily to sleep despite their curiosity. The morning found them stiff but rested and a meager breakfast was enough to at least put off the hunger pangs for a few hours. "Now what?" asked Bayard as they set forth.

"That depends upon yourselves," said the man, "I wander about here and there and do what needful tasks fall to me in my wanderings, such as shepherding the two of you. What do you wayward sheep have in mind?"

Archer laughed, "we hardly know what we are about! We know nothing of the world beyond our village and even less of this so-called world beyond ours. We knew we had to leave but nothing was said about why or how or where we should go."

Bayard then told him their strange tale; the man listened patiently and was quite interested in certain details. Once his curiosity was satisfied and their own intellectual poverty was revealed, Roland said, "it seems you begin at the beginning, as is proper for all such journeys. I will begin by telling you something of the world. You are well aware that there are evil and dangerous men abroad, who do as they please with lesser folk and impose harsh standards upon them, but there is worse than that loose in the world."

Archer's eyes were wide, "what is worse than that?"

Roland said grimly, "as you are starting to realize, there is more in the world and beyond and before it than any mortal mind can imagine. There are also forces and creatures more sinister and dangerous than men. You have glimpsed that there is a great good but you must also know that there is a great evil. The evil is less than the good, but it is still something to be dreaded by mere men such as we. It is an ancient war, this rebellion of the dark against the light. One day all will be well and the dark defeated forever but even before the world was made there was the War. And when the world came to be, the darkness hinted and tempted and won the hearts of fickle men and broke it from the coarse that was intended. Thus came evil and sorrow and grief into a once perfect world. Our hearts ever long for that perfect land but alas we must wander in this broken sphere while life lasts. After, our destiny depends on what we chose to do with our lives. Those who follow that which is good and true and right will find that blessed land but those who choose evil or simply live for themselves find that dark pit with no bottom of which you dreamed."

Bayard said, "so all we must do is be good and do good and we have nothing to fear?"

Roland said quietly, "if only it were so easy. We are broken creatures, tainted by many evil deeds even if we think our lives are good and perfect and worthy of much praise, but evil cannot abide in the presence of True Good."

"What then is to become of us?" gasped Archer, remembering all his little transgressions and unkind acts in the last week alone.

"We do have an Advocate," said Roland, smiling as if he had suddenly won the day against some vile foe, "for we of ourselves are quite unworthy, but He who brought us forth and loves us in spite of our defects has promised to count His own goodness as our own, if we will but trust Him."

"Him?" asked Bayard.

Roland smiled as if at a silent joke, "you do not think all of life is an accident and we wander about aimlessly and at random? All good things must have a Source, as all evil things have their source in the corruption of good things. All that is, was, or ever shall be came about because the Master cared enough to bring it into being."

At last this mysterious force had a name and seemed a bit less ominous, but the boys still wondered at such a concept, never having been taught such things but inside every human heart is the understanding that there must be something greater than ourselves, so while new to their thoughts it was old news to the depths of their being, though long suppressed or ignored. "But why allow evil?" asked Archer, "If this Master of yours is all powerful and has such control, why allow evil at all?"

Roland said quietly, "that is the great question, but I think it has something to do with love. For you see, a creature with no capacity to choose anything but the good and the right is a slave or an automaton. But if the creature has the choice between good and evil, then and only then can such a thing as love exist, for love must be a free choice rather than a demand. To reap the great joy of love, the terrible risk of evil must be allowed to exist."

The boys felt their minds might explode and Roland ceased for a time in trying to explain all the myriad things they must know if they were to continue on this odd journey with a good understanding, for none could take it in ignorance. Finally Archer said, "tell us something of the world then."

Roland smiled, "here at least are things less boggling to mortal minds. The world is broad and there are many countries, large and small, and much land in dispute or left in a wild state. Much of the world is governed by tyrants and selfish or evil men, who see nothing but their own power as worthwhile. Wars rage, disease wreaks its own disaster, the strong prey upon the weak, and everywhere justice and mercy are forgotten. Some of this is brought about by human desire and action but there is also a more sinister force behind certain happenings in the world. For once long ago, the Master's greatest servant broke away in rebellion, claiming for himself that which only his Maker could claim. He was cast out with all his likeminded minions and has since waged war upon all the Master holds dear. It may seem a world of men but there are things we cannot see or understand, forces for both good and evil that range across our world and act as their masters would have them. Some of our foes are merely men, who bleed and die like any of us, but there are others that appear to be men but cannot die, for they are already dead yet walking still; they are also possessed of strange and terrible powers and talents and are fearsome foes. The servants of evil have power and influence at all levels of society and use such to increase the evil and chaos in the world."

"What then is your part in all this?" asked Bayard.

The man smiled, "I, and those like me, wander across the world and do as we may to restore hope to shattered lives, combat evil as we find it, and everywhere try and bring the hope only our Master can offer."

"Sounds exciting," smiled Archer.

Roland said grimly, "you saw what happens quite often to those who choose such a life. All it takes is for word to reach the wrong person or one of the viler servants of the Enemy to discover you and that is the end of it, unless our Master sees fit to rescue you from such disaster, which may or may not happen. It is no easy life but I know none so noble." They paled to remember the terrible scene they had witnessed only a few days before, but an eagerness still burned in their hearts to be part of such a great and wonderful plan, if only to tell others of the joy they themselves had found. The man smiled, remembering his own youthful dreams and enthusiasm. "Well?" asked the man. The boys exchanged a nervous glance, which then became a mutual, excited nod. Roland laughed and said, "then we had best begin your training."

They had little idea just what that might involve, but were eager to begin, and Roland was not long in putting such enthusiasm to good use. There seemed an endless number of stories, legends, and histories Roland thought they must learn, not to mention the basic tenets of the Master as passed down from Himself to men that they might understand Him, themselves, and their interactions with one another and creation in general. He also began teaching them the basics of combat with and without a sword, for they might be called upon to defend themselves or others, along with tracking, woodcraft, and other basic skills that would help them survive as renegades from society.

A month into their training, they continued to wander and they began to see Roland in action. Here he would speak quietly to a few people of the Master, there he would track down a thief and see that justice was done, once they hid from a patrol of dark soldiers on some fell mission, and another time he would console some grieving soul about the hardness of the world but hope thereafter. People seemed receptive to his words once they overcame their fear, but ever there was a hint of danger lurking in the background and everywhere there seemed to be one or two who might wish to take advantage of the situation by reporting this renegade to the local authorities.

As they marched along one day, Archer asked, "how does the Enemy recruit his strange servants? Are they all unholy creatures or are some truly men as they seem?"

Roland said, "his servants often ride into a village, round up the young men, and herd them off to a training camp where they become mercenaries or worse. They often choose a life enslaved instead of death at the hands of their captors, if they fail to agree with them. Some actually enjoy such things and the power that comes with it. Of these, a few endure horrible rites to become something truly terrible, that no mortal can withstand. There are also creatures of a nonhuman sort of both a darker and better nature, but of these I know nothing."

"What can stand against such ruined men?" asked Bayard.

Roland said, "there are certain of the Master's servants that can deal with them, but that is all I know of such things, and it is better for mortal men not to ask too many questions wherein such things are concerned." The boys nodded in agreement, hoping never to meet such things.

"How long do we stay with you?" asked Archer, changing the subject.

Roland said, "you may go whenever you wish, but I would prefer you did not leave until I told you you are ready, lest you inadvertently do or say things that will confuse others or endanger you and them. You have yet much to learn. Often such apprentices will remain with their master for a year or three." Archer's heart dropped, as he had hoped to be loosed upon the world in a few months rather than a few years, but he was beginning to understand that there was yet much he needed to learn.

Bayard asked, "how many people like yourself are there? Do you ever meet?"

Roland smiled, "we have no organized society but occasionally we meet upon the way and for a time our lonely wanderings are forgotten, but soon we must again each go upon our own road. How many there might be, that only the Master knows."

Archer said, "is it only such wandering folk that find the Master's grace?"

Roland laughed, "nay lad, any may pursue that calling and it would be a poor world indeed if there were no families or craftsmen or kings who did not heed His call. One need only trust in Him and do that which He asks of each of us."

"And what is that?" asked Bayard.

Roland arched an eyebrow and Bayard blushed, saying, "I guess you mean to serve others, love the Master, and do His will?" He nodded and the boy grinned.

The man said, "it seems you have been listening after all." The smile slipped from his face suddenly as he saw a great black bird sitting in a dead tree, observing them with much interest. The raven squawked what might be called a laugh, if such could be said to possess a sense of humor, as he took to the air and vanished beyond the hills.

"What is it?" asked Archer.

Roland said grimly, "that was no simple bird. I fear we are betrayed to the servants of the Enemy. Some can take the form of such a cursed bird and he will not be long in telling his masters. We had best find a place to hide and prepare for our last stand."

The boys exchanged grim smiles, eager to at last have an adventure, but as what Roland had said sunk in, their hearts quivered in terror. They had just learned what it was to live. Were they now to die? But they remembered a man who was not afraid to die and even seemed to await with joy that which waited on the other side. Roland had taught them well and after these first misgivings, they knew that they also did not fear death.

"What will they do?" asked Bayard, with only a slight quiver in his voice.

Roland said, "they may just kill us and be done with it, but sometimes they prefer to take live prisoners, which means a terrible end by one means or another. Either you will break and give in to their demands and tell them all you know or you will die in agony, refusing to give in but much pleasing your Master."

Archer shivered at his words but nodded grimly, hoping he could withstand such a situation if it fell upon him. They hid themselves well but it was yet early afternoon and the ever searching eyes of the bird were not easily fooled. They had but one sword between them, but they each had a bow and the boys were moderately skilled with the staffs they carried. Besides the bird, there were six mounted men in the party, each heavily armed with malice burning in their eyes.

Roland whispered, "the bird we can do nothing about. It is called a Spy and can take the form of bird or man at will. We cannot hurt the thing, for it is beyond death. Any rescue must come from our Master, but we can certainly sell our lives dearly if the others press us."

The party rode slowly forward, certain their prey was in hiding nearby but as yet uncertain where. The bird had yet to find their exact location but he was certain in which small area they must have secreted themselves. Suddenly two of the soldiers fell, hit by arrows from their unseen foes as a third suffered a near miss. They put their heels to their horses' flanks and galloped in the direction from whence the arrows had come. They had time for one last volley before their foes were upon them, two more fell and a third took an arrow in the leg, which slowed him down but did not disable him. Roland crossed swords with the uninjured man, leaving the two boys to face the other. The bird squawked in dismay from an overhead branch, waiting to see what his minions might accomplish before engaging such pitiful foes himself. The injured man spurred his horse forward with sword raised.

Archer braced himself with his staff held forth like a lance. The man ran straight into it, unhorsing him. Bayard, anticipating a much injured foe, was dismayed to find him rising quickly to his feet with sword bared. The soldier grinned maliciously as the boy unsuccessfully tried to ward off his sword while simultaneously trying to incapacitate his foe. He easily ran the boy through the chest and then focused on his remaining foe. Archer screamed in horror as his friend fell and completely forgot to defend himself; he would have fallen next had Roland not finished with his foe and taken the man from behind as he made to fall upon the terrified boy. They had no time to tend to the fallen boy, for the Spy was soon upon them or should have been. He leapt from his perch but ere he reached the ground, he vanished in an explosion of feathers, which floated morosely to the ground.

The two survivors exchanged an astonished look and Roland said quietly, "only by the Master's grace have we survived."

They then turned mournful eyes upon the unmoving form of their friend. With heavy hearts they buried their companion and vanished into the forest, before more servants of evil felt inclined to fall upon them, but first they searched the dead and took those things that might be helpful in their wanderings, including a couple horses and a sword. Archer felt no pride in his newfound weapon or mount and wondered how he had ever anticipated crossing swords with an enemy. Not only had he killed a man with his arrows, a thing that is never easy, but he left a friend as dear as a brother buried upon the site of his first victory. His only consolation was that they were not forever sundered and that Bayard had now found that happy country for which all mortal hearts yearn. It was not easy, but it was not hopeless, as once he had thought death was. He found comfort in his Master's words and thus began the healing.

Death swirled around Bayard as all fought for their lives. He knew the terror of the enemy's triumphant gaze as his sword found its mark, felt the piercing pain as he fell, and then for a moment knew only darkness, which suddenly gave way to that bright mist in which he had once dreamed of meeting a fallen stranger, but he knew this to be no dream. A magpie perched upon a great stone, the only visible detail in the fog, save himself, for even the ground seemed made of the same stuff that surrounded them.

"Well?" asked the bird with his too-knowing eyes. Bayard felt such awe and terror before the strange creature that he felt no shame in going to his knees before it, unable to raise his head to meet its eyes, feeling utterly and totally useless and ashamed of himself for all the selfish things he had done and the good deeds he had left undone. The bird cocked its head, "well?" The boy could not help but lift his eyes to those of the bird, but instead of the beady eyes common to such creatures, this Being's were deep beyond knowing and held such joy and sorrow that Bayard could not decide whether to laugh for joy or cry in utter despair. Said the bird gently, "you have yet to give account of yourself, child." A parade of unhappy memory played through his mind, quite extensive for one who had lived for so short a time. "What have you to say child?" asked the bird, like a querulous and skeptical judge. Bayard wept and felt that it would be a kindness if that unforgotten darkness consumed him utterly, for he had nothing of worth to tell this bird that was no bird. How could He even look upon such a wretch?

"You have nothing of worth, child?" said the bird, but then He turned a kind eye upon the boy, and the joy overwhelmed the sorrow in His fathomless eyes, "but then My grace is sufficient for you and all My wandering children, if they will but have Me. You are Mine by your own choosing and I do not forsake My own." The boy looked up with utter joy in his own eyes, and no words could ever bring him more joy, save those which followed, as the bird said, "you lived but a short while and died in My name. Well done, child. Now will you enter that land which you glimpsed but briefly in a dream, the land for which your soul yearns, or do you yet wish to be of some small service to those poor mortals who yet wander upon those fog shrouded plains?"

The boy said quietly, "something in me is not yet fully ready for that land Sir, what might I do for my fellow men?"

The bird smiled and said, "such a heart shall not be denied its wish. I leave you to one who will teach you what you must know. I shall be ever with you, as I have always been." Suddenly He was gone, as were the towering rock and the mist spun from moonbeams.

He was again amidst the chaos of the fight though none seemed to notice his presence. Roland pulled his sword free of his slumping foe and turned to save Archer, before he too could fall to the sword that slew his friend. Their final foe was quickly overcome but then Bayard noticed the Spy in the tree above, and knew the creature intended to fall upon the victors; it would make short work of them while they could do it no harm. But as the creature moved in for the kill, a flash, as of lightning, momentarily blinded Bayard and the Spy. A man nearly too bright to look upon had suddenly appeared aback the most magnificent horse imaginable and easily cut down the fell bird in mid-flight. The creature squawked in dismay and vanished in a flutter of feathers.

His task finished, the newcomer smiled at the rather astonished boy; the boy gaped, for it was the as yet unnamed stranger. The man smiled, "I see you took my advice, though I had hoped it might have kept you alive a bit longer."

Laughed the boy, "it was your advice that got me killed!"

The man nodded, "I suppose you are right, but come we have other things to be about now that my business is settled here." Bayard looked longingly at his friends, who seemed oblivious to his presence, save that of his mortal shell lying in a crumpled heap where it had fallen. The stranger said gently, "come, they have their duty and we have ours, but we ever serve the same Master." The boy nodded and allowed the man to guide him from the tragic scene as the world seemed to shift around them.

They found themselves in a mountain valley beside a rushing stream and the whole place was so fresh and beautiful that Bayard felt it must be the first morning of the world. The man smiled, "welcome to Paradise, or as close as one gets this side of the Mountains. This is where mankind first woke in the world but alas, he chose evil over his Master and has not seen it since, at least not without first tasting of death. Over the Mountains lies our Master's country and if ever you tire of this service, simply cross into those Brightlands, but then no more may you render service this side of the Mountains ere the Last Day when all shall be set aright."

Bayard stared about him in awe and wonder, but before he could take in very much of the scenery, he found himself flailing in the rushing water of the stream. His companion laughed, "quit struggling."

The boy gave up his efforts and found himself quite enjoying the water, for it was refreshing without being cold yet comfortable without being hot. He climbed ashore and gawked at the changes wrought in himself. No longer a nearly grown boy, but a man in the fullness of his years and clad in white and silver in place of his ragged peasant garb. The man looked about, seemingly puzzled. He glanced at the great horse nearby, lazily pulling at the grass, and only then did Bayard notice the creature was not only magnificent but also bore a pair of splendid wings. The man then turned to Bayard and said, "usually one of the Pegassi would be waiting to meet you but I see no such creature."

Suddenly both men and the horse had gone to their knees as they felt a by now familiar Presence. The magpie stood in the grass before them and seemed not troubled in the least that His servants towered over Him. Bayard knew instinctively that the Master of the Universe might appear in whatever guise He chose to His various creatures and for a reason beyond the boy's comprehension, chose to array Himself in the guise of this very ordinary seeming fowl. "There is a slight problem, for one of the Pegassi has gone and Refused. A thing never done in their history but the choice has ever been theirs. You had best go see if you can talk sense into the poor creature," said the magpie to Bayard. And suddenly He was gone.

The great horse stood and snorted in disgust, "to think that one of my people could be as thoughtless as the sons of men!"

The man said, "certainly a strange mission lad, but you can handle it. You have much to learn, but some things you will know when you need them and the rest shall come with experience."

Bayard gaped, "you are sending me out without the least idea of what I am doing?"

The man smiled, "you will do fine. You are no longer a hapless youth, but a very servant of the King with the ability to stand against the undead minions of the Enemy. Remember that." The boy smiled and wondered what exactly it was he had agreed to do, but rejoiced to know that he had never been alone. The stranger said, "as you have no Pegassi to help you, I suppose we had best give you a lift. Come!" He was suddenly aback the great horse once more, only then realizing this was how he had arrived in the first place. The world spun and they found themselves on the edge of a village as the sun was rising.

Said the stranger, "it seems this mission requires that you go about in mortal guise. You cannot again truly die, but can certainly suffer pain, both physical and emotional, as we again walk the mortal sphere. If you tire of it, cross the Mountains and find Peace. Men will be able to see and touch you and their weapons can cause hurt but no permanent harm. The minions of the Dark One can banish you back to the River and from thence you must set out once more. Farewell." The man and the horse were suddenly gone and Bayard found himself alone, garbed once more as a peasant, and before he could wonder what to do, he felt a great urging to enter the village yonder.

He smiled, wondering what other strange things he would discover along the way. He knew there was a cost to this service but felt it very much worth it. What he never had had the chance to do in life, perhaps he could do beyond it, but in a way he never even dreamed of. He had not gone far into the village when he felt a cruel hand upon his upper arm half dragging, half pushing him towards the center of the village where stood the cowering villagers and a dozen armed men. A half dozen young men stood in their midst, looking truly terrified, and into this clump Bayard was roughly shoved by the soldier who held his arm.

The man said after delivering his burden, "that is the last one Sir."

The captain smiled grimly, "very well. March!"

Bayard found himself and the others prodded along like a drove of cattle as the weeping of those left behind smote his heart. The day wore on interminably and was much harder on the others than on Bayard, though the lash of the whips and the physical blows hurt, he suffered neither thirst nor hunger nor weariness nor despair, as did the others. He tried to comfort them but only earned a cuff from one of the soldiers for his temerity in trying to speak unbidden. They stopped to sleep when darkness fell, and twice a day for a brief rest, but otherwise they were marched mercilessly. The boys gradually became used to the cruel pace and adapted to sleeping rough and eating poor rations, the first step in turning them into proper soldiers.

The days ran together until at last they came to the place Bayard had dreaded from the start. A great fortress loomed out of the gloom before them. Its extensive walls enclosed much ground and within, future soldiers of the Dark One were trained and a few chose to become something even worse at the cost of their very souls. His heart quivered eagerly within him as he suddenly knew that thither lay his quarry and that his efforts had not been in vain. They stood outside the gates, eager to find rest within but dreading the last chance they might ever have of freedom.

All were here unwillingly, but a couple had philosophically decided that it was better than the alternative and began to cooperate with their captors. A man came forth and prattled on for an hour about the glory of the Dark One and his expectations, the consequences should they fail, and the rewards if they succeeded. In they were marched and the gates clanged ominously behind them. Just inside the gates was the requisite Traitor's Wall, as each official outpost and settlement of the Enemy's forces seemed to require. It was little more than a wall of human skulls plastered together in place of stones, presumably each belonging to an enemy of the Enemy.

The new recruits looked at it with dread, hoping their own might not one day adorn that grim wall. They were herded to the barracks, told to sleep, and they would be wakened before dawn. The darkest hour of the night came and Bayard felt himself drawn out into the darkness. The penalty for getting caught might well be death but he could not stifle the excitement growing in his breast. He crept out the window and found it guarded, but the senior student on duty was quite asleep. He smiled and crept silently through the pitch dark, for the moon was long fled and clouds blotted out the majority of the stars yet he had no difficulty seeing in the night. He smiled at his ability to see without being seen, for none could see very far in the depths of such a night.

Bayard found himself in the stableyard and there stood the most magnificent mortal horse he had ever seen, but it was only a nag compared to the glory of a true Pegassi. He pitied the poor creature and wondered what mankind had been like before his own fall from grace. The dejected creature tried to shift but it moved only minutely and very stiffly; Bayard's odd vision easily saw that the horse was bound cruelly with ropes upon each leg and about the neck. He was secured to a great post and each leg was tied to each of the others.

Apparently he was not cooperating with his captors and they were determined to break his spirit. Bayard smiled grimly, they were much more likely to kill the poor beast ere they broke him. He seemed to know well the habits and ways of the creatures, though he had done little more than mooch a ride. The question was, how to convince the creature to return to his rightful Master when he had willingly chosen to deny his Calling? Then the thought came to him that it was not his duty to convince, only to tell the wandering creature that hope was not utterly lost, for it was the creature's duty to choose his own fate.

Bayard climbed easily over the wall, his quiet thump upon landing in the pen drew the creature's baleful gaze. What was one of those wretched men doing at this time of night in the stableyard in the pitch dark? He would have arched his proud neck, tossed his head, and snorted his indignation had his bonds allowed it, but all he could do was stare darkly at this overeager man cub who dared disturb his solace. The boy did not seem to notice the warning, perhaps he did not see it or perhaps he did not care, but in either case the boy would soon learn the price of his folly. But the boy did not come within reach of the great horse, but rather stood at a polite distance with a half smile upon his face and looked curiously at the confused creature. The horse had been expecting another round of lashings, verbal abuse, and attempts to get on his back but the boy just stood there in a vexingly inexplicable manner.

"Get on with it then," murmured the horse under his breath.

The boy's smile deepened, "what would you have me get on with?" The horse gaped but said nothing, fearing he had betrayed himself to the vile boy, but he was certain he had said nothing within range of human hearing. The boy nearly laughed at the poor creature's confusion, but stifled his amusement out of fear of insulting the creature's sensibilities even more. Finally Bayard said, "there is something you must know."

The horse could stand it no longer and growled, "be gone son of evil, for I shall have nothing more to do with your ill-begotten kind. I know not how you know that you might torment me thus but it will not avail you."

Said the boy, "your torment is of your own doing."

Sighed the horse, "in that at least you speak truly."

Smiled the boy, "it need not be hopeless."

The horse laughed mockingly, "little you know! This misery is joy compared to what awaits traitors such as we beyond this wretched mortal sphere."

Bayard said quietly, "in this at least you are mistaken. All is not hopeless. Turn back to your Master and hope is not lost."

The horse said scornfully, "what lies do you speak boy? Is this yet a new game you play in hopes of at last breaking me to the plow?"

The boy said, "I can only speak the Truth. Your former Master will redeem fallen men, why then will He not take you back as well?"

The horse's ears perked up hopefully at this but he said, "if only it were true! But how can I trust a lying son of men? How could you know anything of such lofty matters? Will He also rescue me from this living death?"

The boy said, "this ignobility you have chosen for yourself and must endure it to its end but that does not mean all is lost. You can yet find a brighter morning."

The horse began, "how..." but he was forced to trail off as a great shadow loomed out of the night and a gruff voice snarled, "what have we here?" What are you doing out of bed wretch? And why so much interest in this useless nag? We shall see what tomorrow brings but I think we shall enjoy it very much."

The guard dragged the hapless boy away and tossed him into a pitch dark cell that reeked of filth; Bayard's eyes saw the silhouettes of rats scattering as the door was opened to admit him. He waited patiently in the dark, wondering what the horse would choose, not really concerned about his current or future circumstances for come what may, he was in the Master's keeping. Finally, the door swung open and harsh arms grabbed the prisoner and dragged him out into the noonday sun. There was a great crowd gathered around the stableyard and into its midst they thrust him.

A grim looking soldier stood forth and berated the boy loud enough for all to hear, "you fool! Your first night amongst us and already you have defied us! If you value your life that little or love the horse that much, we will certainly oblige you!" At this there was a general uproar of dark laughter amongst the gathered spectators. The soldier tossed a dagger into the corral and said, "you are going to cut loose that wonderful horse of yours and then let us see if you can tame him. Fail to oblige us and you will meet an even worse fate."

Bayard stood and picked up the proffered weapon as the crowd hissed at him in derision. He walked towards the great horse, who did not seem all that impressed by the goings on but eyed the boy curiously. The child seemed no different than any other immature human he had ever seen but he spoke strangely for one of his age and position. He could kill the imp and oblige his captors, which was certainly not something he wanted to do. He could remain indifferent and then they would only find another way to kill the poor creature. He chafed at the only remaining option but knew it was what he must do. It mattered little, for he was like to die sometime soon anyway, at least he might have some chance of escape in this way.

The boy was now dangerously close and the horse said, "I suppose we must make a break for it. Cut me loose, get on my back, and I will attempt to jump the fence. We will likely die in the process but it is probably a quicker death than many I can think of."

The boy smiled grimly, "you no longer fear it then?"

The horse snorted, "I have suffered much for my pride and begin to pity these poor humans who have never known my Master's glories and perhaps never will. I do not know what fate awaits me, but I am at peace. Come!"

The boy set to work with a will and he needed all his strength, for the horse was quite cruelly bound. All the while the crowd hurled obscenities and blasphemies at the boy. Finally the great horse was fully loosed, the overseers of the little project were quite amazed he had not yet struck out at the boy, but their surprise was even greater when the boy leapt aback the horse and he easily cleared the fence. So astonished were all and sundry that it took a moment for them to realize what had just happened, but they were not lost long in their shock and orders were quickly shouted. The horse used this brief moment to his advantage and ran like the wind towards the gate, which was miraculously open as a patrol had just ridden in. They dashed out the gate faster than any mortal horse could run as the dismounted soldiers gaped at the strange vision. Then word of the chaos in the stableyard reached them and they were quickly in their saddles, in hot pursuit. No horse ever foaled could keep apace of the fallen Pegassi, but some of the Enemy's swifter servants were not so easily deterred.

An eerie howling met their ears and the horse laughed in the exhilaration of his freedom, "a Fellhound? Let the beast come and see if he can match the swiftness of the Pegassi!" But alas for the greathearted horse, he was no longer of that noble breed, though swift for a mortal horse, he could not outrun such a foe.

Bayard however had no fears of such a beast, at least he would not if he had a proper sword. As if in answer to his thoughts, there appeared galloping suddenly beside them a Pegassi in all his glory, and astride him sat his much amused guide of previous acquaintance. Laughed he, "you seem to have forgotten something." He tossed a sword to the boy and vanished as quickly as he had come. The great horse had noticed none of this, for his eyes were blind to such things, but was quite astonished to see the boy wielding such a weapon when he had had nothing more promising than a dagger only a moment before.

Gasped the horse, "did you pull that from your pocket lad? Just do not cut off my head while you are at it, but I doubt it will be much use against those evil things that undoubtedly pursue us. The Enemy is not known for letting prisoners escape once they are in his clutches. But do as you feel you must."

The Fellhound was not long in coming and it was a sight that chilled all quivering hearts that had the grim pleasure of seeing such a hideous creature. It was dog like in shape, but the size of a bear and had a distinctly reptilian cast to it; it was all black, save for the flame that burned in its unblinking eyes. It howled its eerie cry as it came within range of its prey and made to leap upon the horse's exposed flanks and its hapless passenger. Its mouth gaped, showing cruel teeth, but its victorious stare turned to one of pain and horror as Bayard's sword smote its vulnerable flesh. It vanished with a despairing whine and a rain of ash.

The former Pegassi whinnied his wonder, "who are you child? What mortal man has such power?"

Bayard grinned, "that time must reveal." The horse shook his head in dismay at not hearing the full tale but on he ran. Their flight however was short lived as a great shadow loomed before them.

The Pegassi reared and screamed in terror, flinging the hapless boy to the ground, where he lay for a moment stunned. The Dreadlord laughed with all the mirth of an earthquake and just as loud and deep. He seemed a tall, broad man all in dark armor, but there was no body beneath the mail, for in the cracks and chinks one could see only shadow, save eyes of burning embers deep within his helm. His mount was some dreadful reptile of equine shape but of draconian descent. The late Pegassi stood with head down, eyes rolling, sides heaving, and sweat covering him as a terrified mortal horse might look.

"Fool!" snarled the creature, as he dismounted and drew his sword, "think you to gain your freedom? No one has ever escaped my master's clutches. And no one ever shall! You shall die and this wretched beast will go back to the stables."

For a moment the Pegassi's terror deepened, but then his courage roused, for he would face any fate rather than find himself again in the bonds of slavery. He screamed, reared, and made to strike the villain, but the creature just laughed and struck the pitiful beast with his sword as he continued his approach to the boy, who was trying to gain his feet. The ex-Pegassi crumpled with the agonized scream of the mortally wounded equine and lay breathing heavily upon the turf, groaning with each breath. The boy was on his feet and had his sword before him; Bayard smiled in anticipation, knowing it was for this that he currently lived. He had never wielded a sword against an adversary before, and never against such a foe as this. A mortal man would have been bad enough, but the Dreadlords were the most powerful and terrible of the Enemy's minions. But the boy knew he had the skill to banish this monster back to his wretched master.

The monster snarled, "you dare stand against me fool? How is it you smile when your doom is assured?"

He laughed darkly and raised his sword; Bayard did the same. They clashed for a moment but though the boy knew he somehow possessed an innate skill, his foe had far more practice and easily clove the boy in two, or he would have had the fool not vanished in a flash of light the moment he was mortally struck. The horse gave one final groan and his mortal sufferings finally ceased. The dark soldier laughed richly at the inexperienced Messenger he had just vanquished but wondered what strange quest had brought him to this place, only to end so futilely. He glanced at the dead horse and wondered all the more.

Searing pain and bright light consumed Bayard, as the Dreadlord's blade found its mark, but only for a moment and then all was coolness and wet and peace. He found himself struggling once more against the River, he relaxed, and allowed its current to sweep him to the bank. He pulled himself to his feet, astonished to find himself dry and all in one piece, again in the silver and white of his calling. His unnamed guide stood nearby and laughed in vast amusement as the boy grinned sheepishly.

They embraced joyfully and the boy recounted the tale, to which the man replied, "you certainly will have the skill when you need it, but that does not guarantee victory. You need practice and that will come with time and experience." The boy nodded and wondered how long until he figured out what he was doing. The man laughed, as if hearing his thoughts, "you will never fully know everything lad. About the time you think you have it all figured out, you will discover something completely new and mindboggling. Only the Master knows all. But come, we had best go attend to your friend." They were soon aback the Pegassi and the world spun once more.

They arrived on the scene of Bayard's recent adventure the moment after he had vacated it. The Dreadlord was still laughing in victory as he put up his sword and stared in perplexity at the carcass of the horse, completely oblivious to the presence of his perennial foes. He mounted his beast and soon shrank with distance. Garren, Bayard's frequent though ephemeral companion, said as the boy slid from the Pegassi's back, "even now your friend is giving an account of himself to the Master, after, you will know what to do. Farewell!" The Pegassi reared, spread his wings, and the pair vanished as they had done so often before.

The boy stared at the dead horse and the retreating Dreadlord and wondered what exactly was to come of this adventure, finding himself now in the place of guide much as Garren had been to him after his own recent demise. As he watched, the dead horse shuddered and gasped and then struggled to his feet. He studied himself for a moment in confused wonder and said to the air, "I live again. Still a mortal horse." He sighed, flicked his tail in agitation, and then studied the scene about him. He saw the last vestiges of the Dreadlord vanish upon the horizon and then jumped to find himself not alone. Erian said in some surprise, "how did you survive the Dreadlord? Or are you too restored to mortal life?"

Bayard said, "I am as you have ever known me. What of you?"

The horse shook his head in some consternation, "I thought that dying would be enough to restore me to my previous form but alas it is not to be. I have stood, or perhaps I should say knelt, before our Maker and given an account of myself and know that I am restored to Him, but then He restored me to this mortal form. For there is something else I yet must accomplish. It seems the children of men are born into corruption and are thus less culpable than one of my lineage, who is born into perfection. Death is the fate of a faithful man ere he can begin life anew. It seems that that is not enough for one who knew perfection and willingly forsook it."

Erian continued, "He gave me a choice of forsaking mortal lands forever and entering His Bright Country else seeing what adventures the world might yet hold as I begin my service to Him. I was not yet ready to forsake my Calling, which only a short time ago I was willing to Refuse, so I chose to serve as my kindred have done since time began, finally assenting to our age old duty. But alas! This is not what I had expected! My race is immortal, powerful, and beautiful beyond mortal ken but I am again a wretched mortal horse!"

Bayard smiled sadly, "mortal men live their entire lives in such a reduced state, little knowing that once their forefathers were like unto your own bright kin ere their own fall from grace. Only the River of Life can restore you to your proper self and only then can you fulfill your true calling."

The ex-Pegassi snorted, "it was punishment enough to be cast from the very Hills of Paradise into this wretched mortal sphere as a mortal myself. But then to be captured by those vile servants of evil and to be so terribly used! And then to die! None of my blessed kin has ever suffered such a fate! Now to live so again?"

Bayard smiled, "but this time you live in the Master's keeping rather than a rebel and an outcast. Endure your current plight patiently and you will one day be restored."

The Pegassi nodded dejectedly, "I suppose your poor race wanders about so, many in the dark, for years upon years. What is a little while in the eyes of eternity after all! But it is a great trial to a heart such as mine."

The Magpie swooped in and the speakers both went to their knees. The bird eyed the Pegassi and said, "and that is the very reason you must persist for a time in mortal guise, child! Pride still lurks deep in the corners of your mind and it must be rooted out ere you can serve Me fully! You will set out and find Paradise and the River that flows therein, but you must suffer much mortal toil, discomfort, and tedium upon the way. Perhaps then you will realize that it is I, and I alone, from whence all your own perceived glory comes and it is nothing of your own doing. Fear not child, I am never far off." He vanished as suddenly as He had come and both rose to their feet. The horse looked downright mortified.

Bayard said gently, "He said not to be afraid. Your plight is no different than that common to all such fallen creatures, save perhaps that because you once knew perfection more is required of you. He does this for your own good, much as any parent must occasionally chastise and encourage an errant child. Besides, you go not alone if you do not wish it?"

The ex-Pegassi looked at Bayard hopefully, "you really wish to come on this dreadful adventure that awaits us? Know you not the geography and history of your own world that you would wish such a thing upon yourself?"

Bayard grinned, "I am just a boy, one from an obscure village at that. I know little of the world or its ways. But I know I shall accompany you regardless, but come, what is this you speak of?"

The Pegassi shivered, "get on and we shall talk as we travel. There is no sense in wasting time." Bayard did as the horse suggested and they were soon off. Erian continued, "long ago when men first wakened to life, the world was perfect and all as the Master wished, but man chose evil and so came the Curse upon all creation for his sake. He was banished from Paradise lest he drink from the River and live forever in such a wretched state. He became a wanderer and a refugee upon the earth, never finding rest nor peace nor home. At least until death ceases his strivings and he is either restored to his Maker or forever sundered from Him. I, like the forefathers of men, willingly left Paradise in rebellion against the Master and now I must find it once more. You were born so sundered and thus have always been an unwilling refugee. I forsook my home and must now return in humility and submission. Yours will be a joyful homecoming, mine one for sober reflection."

Bayard asked, "if you can find Paradise simply by wandering about in search of it, how is it that mortal men have never yet discovered it?"

The Pegassi said, "mortal men can never reach it. To them it is but a great and endless desert, a place where nothing lives and no rain has ever fallen. It is this we must attempt to cross. Are you still sure you want to accompany me?"

The boy grinned, "it shall certainly be an adventure."

Erian said in grateful wonder, "you must be mad!" Finally a thought occurred to him and he was more than willing to change the subject, "you are a very strange foal. How is it you can destroy a Fellhound and somehow survive a direct attack from a Dreadlord?"

Bayard grinned, "what do you think is the answer?"

Erian shook his head, "why do you only speak in riddles?"

Bayard laughed, "to think I asked someone the same question not that long ago! I am nebulous because so must I be. All shall reveal itself in due course, but come my friend what think you on the matter?"

Erian snorted, "I know little of mankind, save that which all of my race is wont to learn and what I have observed upon my brief sojourn in mortal lands. I actually held your race in derision, though now I begin to pity them greatly, being cursed ever to wander as I now do and some never knowing the grace of our Lord. I do not know what or who you are, though I know I can trust you and am glad to call you friend, whatever your strange habits."

Bayard asked, "what is this Calling you have refused?"

Erian snorted, "now it is my turn to speak in riddles. There are some things that cannot be revealed to mortal men and this is one of them. You, as I, must discover things in due course. But my race was bred for a purpose and in refusing that purpose, so was I banished."

Bayard laughed, "fair enough my friend."

The Pegassi laughed, "not really, I know little enough of what my duty entails that I must feign secrecy to hide my ignorance. Really, I held your race in such contempt that I felt my Calling beneath my dignity, Refused, and so you see me. Now I wander about with a hapless child of men when I could be carrying a much more dignified servant of our Master. But alas! You also have a much lesser mount than I once might have been."

The shades of evening had drawn about them when the horse stopped in a little dell with a small covert of trees about it where he thought to rest for the night. A little rivulet flowed in the midst of the dell and quenched the horse's thirst. He said, "I must graze a bit on this poor mortal grass, oh to taste again the foliage of Paradise! But alas I am left with this wretched mortal fare. Too bad you cannot subsist even on such meager vegetation. What will you do?"

Bayard shrugged, "I will not starve nor languish. Go refresh yourself and I will await you here."

Erian nodded and trotted off into the wide plain to find what sustenance he could. Bayard sat in the night dark copse and looked upon the stars, knowing each had a name and purpose beyond his knowing. He wondered what this strange errand might avail, where his friends must be in the wide world, and what adventures lay thereafter. But he sighed contentedly, knowing that regardless of the mystery to himself, there was a Mind far wiser Who knew all and foresaw everything and worked all things out to His purposes. The night was a comfortable one, but even had it been miserable, either cold, hot, or wet, it would not have bothered the boy, for mortal weather was no longer a hindrance to him, but even so, he could enjoy the sublime night alone with the stars. But he was not alone. He heard voices and the crunch of hooves upon the stony ground. Another pair of travelers had decided that this little dell would make an ideal campsite for the evening as well. Bayard crouched down in the vegetation as the wanderers made their way into the haven.

Familiar voices filled the night as the weary travelers went about their evening chores. The Magpie whispered gently in Bayard's ear, "go down to your old companions. They will not recognize you, neither can you reveal your true nature to them, but you need not hide in the shadows when old friends are nigh."

Bayard grinned gratefully but the bird was already gone. He crept from his hiding place and was greeted by the sound of swords being drawn forth in surprise. Roland eyed the youth skeptically, "who are you and how did you come to find us?"

Bayard grinned, "actually it was you who found me. I had taken refuge in this little wood for the night and your approach disturbed me so I hid myself. You need not fear me, I am no villain."

The wary pair exchanged a brief look and then Roland nodded and Archer shrugged, sensing that the lad was no servant of evil. Roland said, as he began to relax a bit after the surprise of the stranger, "I apologize for our wariness but these are dangerous days to be abroad, especially for men of a certain calling. It was not long ago that we left a dear companion buried in an unmarked grave for just such a cause; he was not much older than yourself. Who are you and why are you abroad in the world? Is it not far safer to remain at home?"

Bayard shrugged, "where is there safety in this dark world? Enemies disturb the peace of the hearth as easily as they accost those upon the open road. I am on an important errand, one most dear to a friend of mine. I am a friend of all who serve the Master."

Archer eyed the boy strangely, "you are no older than myself or my late friend. How is it you can be upon the Master's business when we ourselves knew so little of such things and need one to show us?"

Roland smiled, "it is not the age but the wisdom of the servant I think. Perhaps this lad had the advantage of knowing the Master from a young age. But if he is a servant of our Master then he is more than welcome in our midst."

Bayard smiled gratefully and took his place beside the fire and asked after their adventures of late. It had been six months since they had parted and they had seen and done much in the interim. Roland then asked after Bayard's adventures. The boy said thoughtfully, "I have not seen much of the world as I am yet young but I have set out in search of legendary Paradise."

At these words, Roland looked extremely concerned and Archer quite confused. Roland said gently, "lad, that is suicide and vain. If you truly serve the Master, do not forfeit your life for such a pointless cause. Come with us and put your life to good use, not throw it away on needless fancy. Perhaps the cradle of man's birth yet exists at some point beyond time but there is nothing left to be found by mortal men."

Bayard asked, "where then did it lie that I might find its echo if even that yet remains?"

Roland sighed, "lad, can you not see this is folly? It once lay to the far east, or at least so old legends say. But all that lies there now is a land of bare stone and bitter wind where never rain has fallen in all the days since the beginning."

Bayard said quietly, "and thither must I go for thence lies my quest. Folly to you it certainly is, but to me it is a quest most pressing."

Roland asked, "you said it concerned a friend of yours?"

Bayard nodded, "and that it does. The tale is his to tell if he will, but the Master Himself has set him this quest and I have vowed to go with him."

Roland shook his head, "then at least let us ride with you as far as we might. I do not understand this quest but you seem a sensible lad and not one apt to run lightly off upon a fool's errand. Whither is this friend of yours?"

Bayard grinned, "he comes and goes as he pleases and may or may not reveal himself to strangers."

Roland shook his head, "this tale gets stranger by the minute, but we will come with you if you will have us?"

Bayard laughed for joy, "if my friend allows it, I shall gratefully accept your offer."

Drawn by the light of the fire and the cheerful voices, Erian had wandered back to the little wood and stood listening in the dark to all that passed between the men. He stepped into the firelight and the two strangers jumped in surprise; Bayard grinned in amusement.

Archer said in awe, "that is a beautiful horse!"

Erian snorted and said, "and who is to say I am a horse?"

Archer's eyes looked as if they might drop from their sockets but Roland nodded thoughtfully, "the Enemy can have all sorts and manner of thinking servants, why not the True King? Will you have us my dear beast or whatever you may be?"

Erian snorted again, "why else would I have revealed myself to you? We had all best get some sleep for I would like to start early." Bayard volunteered to keep watch while the others sought what rest they could after such a strange night of revelations. Bayard grinned into the darkness, this adventure was getting more interesting by the minute.

Morning came and Bayard roused everyone from their slumber. Roland yawned, "did you sleep at all lad?"

The boy laughed, "no, but I did not feel the need for it."

Roland shook his head and tried to come fully awake but said, "you will not last long on this trip if you do not take care of yourself."

Bayard smiled, "I know my limits and will abide within them."

Archer was packing the last of his gear away in his saddlebags when he noticed the sword on Bayard's hip, "are you able to use that thing?"

Bayard shrugged, "well enough at times I suppose, but I have much yet to learn and may be completely useless in certain situations."

Roland laughed, "as are we all, but perhaps together we can overcome one another's weaknesses and combine our strengths. Let us be off."

Erian reared and pawed the air, "I agree. Mortal life is much less weary than I had thought."

Bayard grinned, "when one is not a captive of the Enemy or comparing it to eternity, it is not so dreadful and tedious as you might think." The others exchanged a confused look at this conversation but said nothing. Erian laughed, "I suppose that is the whole point. But come, it may grow darker before the dawn." Bayard was the last one mounted and they set off into the burgeoning day.

As they rode along, Roland interrogated the ex-pegassi, "why is it you seek the Utter East? And what did that strange comment of yours mean this morning?"

Erian shook his head, "that is not for me to reveal but know it is a thing most important to myself, one I have yet to meet, and those we are sent to serve. Thus it is an errand of vital importance, though I am sure it seems suicidal and vain to your way of thinking, but it must be done."

Roland shook his head, "why is it that everyone speaks in riddles?"

Bayard laughed, "because we cannot know everything at once, therefore all seems enigmatic at best, but one day we will know what we must."

Roland grinned, "spoken like a true philosopher. Even your answer is a quandary! But where is the adventure if we know the end of the tale before it is begun?"

Archer frowned, "but I thought we already knew the end of the tale. The Master will defeat the darkness and all will be well."

Roland smiled, "that is the full end of the tale but there are many smaller tales to be told in the interim. It gives us hope without allowing us to grow lazy in our service to Him. While the great battle has been won, there are many smaller struggles that may yet be lost and souls with them."

Bayard nodded, "well spoken. So must we each ever push on with the quest placed before us."

Erian snorted, "have I taken up with a band of philosophers?"

Archer laughed, "I hope not or this could be a very long journey."

They all laughed and pressed on for the rest of the day. Though they accompanied Bayard and Erian, Roland and Archer's duty to serve others yet remained. They could journey whither they would and for the time it was in company with Bayard but ever their duty bound them. They often stopped to speak with those they met upon the way or disappeared for a time about some errand but ever they pushed on with their enigmatic companions.

Two weeks into their journey, Archer said to Bayard one bright morning, "you remind me very much of my lost friend. You both ease my grief but also keep me from laying it utterly to rest."

Bayard smiled sadly, "fear not, you shall see your friend again. I am glad to bring you some comfort but do not let your heart continue to ache on my account, instead look forward to the day when you meet again on a brighter morning even than this glorious day!"

Archer smiled, "you do indeed bring comfort to my heart!"

"But I will do just the opposite!" snarled a grim voice behind them. The horses went mad with terror and carried their riders off in a wild race down the road. Erian was not so easily frightened by either the two legged reptile or his vile rider, and screamed a challenge at the Wraith even as Bayard drew his sword. "A fool," laughed the Wraith with a croak, "all the more amusing! I have heard tales of a vile little band spreading heresy and hope along the Eastern Road and I am here to put an end to it. Fool! You should have run in terror as your companions have done! But fear not, I shall dispense with them after I have finished with you." He began to chant in some fell language and Bayard felt dark power gathering itself around the Wraith, the dark magicians of the Enemy.

He urged Erian forward as a ball of red flame sprang from the Wraith's hand and engulfed the boy. He screamed with pain but did not turn from his charge, which surprised the Wraith and gave Bayard a moment to strike. The boy should have been consumed utterly by the fire, but it had washed over him as harmlessly as water, leaving no more of a trace than if it had never been save for the momentary burning sensation. Not so the boy's sword, the Wraith shrieked and fell to dust as Bayard pierced him through; the vile reptile fell to charred bone and ash even as his master vanished. Erian screamed in triumph and turned one great eye back to stare in wonder at the boy, "what are you that you can survive a Wraith's fire?"

Bayard grinned enigmatically, "what do you think I am?"

The horse shook his head but wasted no more time in following after their sundered companions. They had mastered their horses and were just turning back to lend aid when Bayard and Erian came over the hill before them. There was much amazement at the tale and all save Bayard were at a loss to explain how he yet walked the earth and how he had managed to vanquish such a foe.

Roland grinned, "if only we could have such a companion at all times! Our lives would be much safer."

Bayard shook his head, "our lives are in the Master's keeping, how can they be safer than that, no matter our end?"

Another week passed in relative quiet but those they encountered upon the road wondered at their destination and would say only death lay before them. Finally, they came to the end of the road and stared in wonder at the sight before them. The green and sunny world ended and a grim, cold desert began, as if someone had taken a sword and drawn a line in the sand. On one side was utter waste and on the other, mortal life. Roland sighed deeply, "are you certain this is the path you must take? We can go no further."

Erian nodded, "this is my doom or destiny. I thank you for your company and aid upon the road. Farewell my friends and may we meet on a happier morning."

Archer said sadly, "must you go? I weep to lose another friend."

Bayard smiled sadly, "this is but a parting my friend. To be lost, one must be sundered forever. But this must be done. Farewell!"

They crossed the line into the Utter East and began the final stage of their journey. Roland and Archer watched until they vanished beyond the horizon then turned back to their own journey, wondering what would come of their friends.

Bayard dismounted and said to Erian, "perhaps it is better if I walk, thus sparing you the effort, as there is neither water nor grass in this land to refresh you."

Erian sighed, "it will spare me but you will fail the sooner then."

Bayard shrugged, "perhaps I am more hardy than you think I am."

Erian gave him a sad smile, "death in this place might perhaps be a blessing the sooner it comes."

Bayard looked about and nodded his agreement, for all about them there was nothing but barren grey rock and grim, dull clouds that hung low but never hinted at rain. It was cold and ever the wind kicked up bits of dust and stone and whipped it into unprotected eyes. Bayard smiled grimly, "your homeland is certainly a miserable place."

Erian shook his head, "nay, this is only as mortal eyes see it. To those beyond time it is a vast and verdant plain with rolling hills and bright rivers and great swathes of forest scattered here and there. The light is not that of the sun but of the Master Himself, reflected from beyond the mountains. The grass and fruit is so wonderful that their mortal counterparts taste like ash in comparison. There is life indeed, rivaled nowhere else in all creation save in the Brightlands where the Master Himself dwells."

Indeed, Bayard could see all of this about them, though Erian was blind to that beyond time. He recognized immediately the country in which the River flowed and felt himself very much at home, but he could also see the wasted lands that were its mortal shadow and all that Erian could see. "What is it we must do here?" asked Bayard of the flagging Erian.

Erian shook his head, "this I do not know. Perhaps simply wander until death takes me once more. You have been a faithful friend and I hope I have not led you to your death. Humans are not as contemptible as I once thought. Nay, our sundered friends showed me that mortal men are not without heart and charm and souls. As they should be, since we are all the Master's children."

They traveled on for a few days, only discernable by the darkening and reappearance of the dull, grim light in that land. Erian was stumbling in weariness, his head hung as if he had not strength to keep it aloft, and he could not speak with his swollen tongue. At last he collapsed and could not rise again.

"You made it," said Bayard gently to his failing friend, though neither the weariness of that land nor the thirst and hunger touched him. Erian sighed and tried to speak but could not. Bayard knew his thoughts however. Made it where? Here was nothing. What was the point of encouraging words? Hopeless words, pointless words! But they were neither hopeless nor pointless, for suddenly the sound of rushing water came to the weary Pegassi's ears. With great effort he lifted his head and beheld the bright lands about him and the wondrous River before him.

The Magpie lit on Bayard's shoulder and chirruped happily, "you have made it indeed, and more importantly learned that which you must. Now refresh yourself in the River and enter fully into My service."

With difficulty but empowered by joy, Erian struggled to his feet and more fell than jumped into the flowing expanse of water before him. He vanished beneath the surface and nevermore was that weary horse seen among mortal men, but a bright and shining Pegassi heaved himself out of the River and stood radiant upon the shore.

He reared for joy and spread his great wings in wonder, once more himself. Then he glanced in concern at the shabby boy grinning in joy upon the bank. Erian said sadly, "I suppose this is goodbye? You asked once what my purpose was. I refused to carry a man upon my back and ended carrying one halfway across the world! The Pegassi are the companions and wings of an order of the Master's servants called the Messengers, which are men beyond time, who fight the undead minions of the Enemy within it, among other things. To one such I am now duty bound to serve and carry on whatever quest our Master sets us. I have enjoyed our time together but alas, duty calls and I must answer."

Bayard grinned like a fool, saying, "and have you not yet figured out my own part in this odd tale?"

Erian cocked his head, "I had hoped but it cannot be...not looking like that in this place!"

Bayard grinned all the more, "have you not learned there is more to life than appearances?"

Erian frowned in consternation but a hint of hopeful joy tinged his voice, "then you are...?"

Bayard laughed, "as I have always been. How else would you explain everything?"

Erian cocked his head, "but I thought..."

Bayard smiled, "and what has our perception of something have to do with anything? Just because you perceive something does not make it true."

Erian sighed, "but you are so small and grubby."

Bayard crossed his arms, "how is it then I can survive both a Dreadlord and a Wraith? How can I remain perfectly healthy in a land that saps the strength of all, including you my fine Pegassi? How did I know you were no foolish horse that first night? Did you not look a poor and wretched thing in your mortal shell compared with yourself at this moment? Am I not still in mortal guise after our previous adventure?"

Erian sighed and said, "it must be so...but..." His sigh turned into a laugh as he grabbed Bayard's collar in his teeth and flung him headlong into the River.

The boy shouted in surprise and then his cry was drowned out by a great splash. He clambered to the shore and gazed up at the amused Pegassi and asked, "are you now content?"

The Pegassi laughed the more as the boy drew himself to his feet, looking much more a proper companion for such a wondrous creature than the scruffy boy who had accompanied him halfway across the world. Erian was quiet for a moment as a thought occurred to him, "those men. You knew them before all this? Their lost companion..?"

Bayard nodded, "it is as you say though they knew it not. I fell before ever I accomplished anything in the Master's service but thankfully that was not the end of the matter." He smiled, "but there was no Pegassi here to meet me thus I was sent to find him."

Erian snorted, "you have suffered much on my account it seems. But at last things are as they should be. Come! Let us see if we can make the Enemy's plans suffer a bit in our stead."

Bayard laughed, "as it should be my friend, at long last." He climbed aback the great horse, who reared for joy, pawed the air, and vanished upon their next quest.

The man, clad all in dark leather, shivered, he hated this place but it was a necessary discomfort, for thus had his master bidden him. He felt, but could not see, the teeming wonder of man's first home as one feels the intense burden of a hot and humid day. It weighed heavily upon him and sapped his strength. He had followed the boy and the strange horse at a distance for several days now, tasked with discovering why so much effort was put forth for what should be a mindless beast. There were rumors that one of the great Pegassi had fallen and winning such a creature for the Dark Lord's service would earn the lucky individual who accomplished such a feat great reward. A Dreadlord had reported destroying the beast and that it had strangely been accompanied by one of those thrice cursed Messengers. Yet here it was alive once more and for what purpose? Then the speculation began and so the Spy was sent to see what came of the matter. He had remained hidden in the shadows and distance for days now, but he felt he must strike soon ere all was lost. He smiled down at the nocked arrow, all he had to do was draw back and let it fly. It was a strange weapon, perhaps the strangest ever possessed by the forces of Evil. A pity there was ever only one of them.

He returned his attention to the weary beast, which had collapsed and seemed unable to rise. The boy seemed unfazed in the least by the rigors of this cursed land, which meant he must certainly be one of those dratted Messengers, though the horse was undeniably mortal. What could it mean, this journey into the midst of a desert simply to die? He watched in wonder as the horse heaved himself to his feet and either jumped or more likely fell, but vanished as he did so. The Spy cursed under his breath, for the beast must have found that loathsome River of theirs.

As if in answer to his thoughts, a Pegassi suddenly appeared in all his radiance. He seemed to exchange a few words with the boy and then the child vanished as the Pegassi tossed him into that unseen watercourse. The Spy could hardly look upon the pair for the glare, as the boy climbed from the River and reappeared in his more usual visage. So the Pegassi had been mortal indeed, but somehow found his way back into his dreadful Master's graces had he? Well, not for long. The Spy drew back on the bowstring and let the arrow fly just as the Pegassi reared and vanished. With a dreadful sinking feeling, the Spy knew that he had hit the wrong target and wasted his master's most unique weapon. His dread majesty would not be pleased in the least about this. There was only one thing to do: he must find the boy and his wretched horse.

The world spun far longer than it should have and only ceased when the ground suddenly ended the phenomenon. For a moment Bayard was lost to the blackness, only to waken with a throbbing head and a burning shoulder. Erian stood over him with a concerned look upon his face and with the boy's returning senses, he grasped the arrow shaft with his teeth and gave it a firm yank, freeing it from the boy's shoulder. Bayard screamed in pain and then collapsed against a tree, breathing heavily.

Erian said in astonishment, "you are bleeding." Bayard gave him a curious look and the Pegassi continued, "creatures beyond time, such as ourselves, should not bleed or take injury as mortals do."

Bayard put a hand to his aching head and said, "I certainly hurt as only a mortal can. What is going on?"

As if summoned, Garren and his Pegassi appeared suddenly, as if they had always been there. He answered as he dismounted, "it is called the Arrow of Discord, perhaps the strangest weapon of our Enemy. You feel mortal again because you are, at least physically."

Erian snorted in surprise, "but the River?"

Garren shook his head, "no, that cannot be taken from him, but he is again vulnerable to all the pain, tedium, sorrow, and vagaries of Time when once he was beyond them. It is a strange weapon, but thankfully there is ever only one of them. To such as ourselves, it renders us physically mortal until death restores us to our previous state. To a mortal, it flings them immediately into Eternity thus it is inexorably and suddenly fatal. It is a favorite tool of the Enemy's for destroying our Master's greatest mortal servants or rendering certain of his immortal servants less effective. It was meant for Erian but the Spy who fired the thing aimed poorly."

Erian snorted in contempt, "I had only just regained my immortality and they have the gall to take it away?"

Bayard winced, "what does this mean for our duties?"

Garren smiled, "you must still be about them, though they may be a bit more difficult at times. You can still destroy our usual foes, but now you are vulnerable to mortal attack yet you still cannot cause harm to a living man."

Erian said a bit sheepishly, "it seems our roles are now reversed. It is my turn to have a mortal partner though I fear you suffer for my sake once more."

Bayard laughed and winced with the twinge of pain that accompanied it, "it is no fault of yours my friend, so you need not feel culpable, but I fear I will slow you down immensely."

Erian snorted a laugh, "I have just gotten used to mortal men, what is a few more days or years putting up with one?"

Garren smiled, "it seems you two will get along just fine. One good thing about the situation is that now the weapon is useless until Bayard is restored to his former state, which means it cannot be used against us further. But it may also mean that that Spy will be after you to rectify his mistake. Beware!" He bid the astonished pair farewell and suddenly vanished.

"Now what?" asked Bayard, as he struggled to his feet.

The Pegassi shook his head, "I suppose we had better see to that wound and then discover what new task our Master has set us." Bayard made his way to where the Pegassi stood and began rooting through the saddlebags. Erian eyed his burden with some astonishment, "I have never borne a true saddle in my natural state before! Such may be necessary when we encounter mortal men but it is only a vision and not a true object, but now I bear both a saddle and luggage!"

Bayard smiled as he drew forth a clean towel and some ointment, "neither have you ever traveled with a mortal in such a state, thus do I require certain amenities which our Master has thoughtfully provided." Erian shook his head in wonder but no more did he complain about his newfound burden, joyfully submitting to it as long as his friend had need. The boy did his best to clean the wound but it was in an awkward spot and hurt each time he moved.

"That's a nasty wound lad," said a familiar voice, "do you need a hand?" Bayard looked up in astonishment to see Roland standing over him. He nodded and handed the helpful man the supplies, soon his shoulder was clean and dressed. Once finished, the man asked, "where did you come by that lad?"

Bayard shook his head, "I took an arrow in the shoulder but I have yet to see my attacker." Roland gripped his sword hilt and looked about suspiciously but Bayard shook his head, "I think we left him far behind but he may pursue me in days to come."

Roland released his grip on his sword and helped Bayard to his feet saying, "it might be safer if you did not travel alone for a time, at least until that shoulder is on the mend. We do not have much but it is yours to share if you dare come with us?"

Bayard smiled, knowing this to be the beginning of his next adventure, he said, "I would be delighted. Where are we going?"

Roland shrugged and smiled enigmatically, "that even I do not know. Wherever the wind and chance take us I suppose. For tonight we will be joining a friend of mine at a local inn. But you should know it is dangerous to travel in our company, for we are not welcomed by the servants of evil."

Bayard laughed (and winced), "all the better. I set out for adventure and this seems a certain way of finding it."

Roland shook his head and smiled sadly, "when will you kids ever discover that adventure is not something you set out to find but that overtakes you when you least expect or want it. Someday you will be old enough to enjoy a quiet life at home!"

Bayard laughed, "I am afraid that shall not be the case with me."

Erian whispered as the boy mounted, "you may now perhaps grow old but I doubt you will ever find a home, as most men think of the matter." Bayard nodded and wondered what it would be like to grow old when one was technically dead, at least as far as mortal thinking went. He smiled to himself, thinking the world a stranger place than he had ever dared imagine. They rode along in silence for a short time and soon the inn appeared out of the trees before them. Bayard shuddered involuntarily, remembering the inn he had once surveyed in his previous travels. What could they do in such a place without ending in tragedy?

The man saw his reaction and said reassuringly, "this is not so desperate a place as many in this world. The proprietor is a man friendly to our cause and allows no men of vile endeavor or malice to reside long therein."

Bayard brightened, "so there are a few places in the world where the Master's light yet shines!"

Roland laughed with all of his great heart, "certainly lad, far more than our dark enemy would like. It is good to know you are of a similar mind to our own. Perhaps we can make something useful out of you?"

Bayard smiled, "I had once aspired to such a life as yours but my path led elsewhere."

Roland nodded, "perhaps it is time to retrace your steps?"

Bayard said thoughtfully, "perhaps for a time at least."

They dismounted and left the horses tied outside and made their way into the inn. Archer stood at the front of the room and held forth in a captivating voice while every eye and ear in the common room was fixed with intense interest upon his every word and gesture. Roland said proudly, "he is about ready to make his own way in the world. It has only been a year since I came upon him, a helpless lad much like yourself, and now look at him! Perhaps you are here to take his place as my apprentice and companion?"

Bayard shook his head, "only for a time I think. Who knows whither my duties will take me next?"

Roland laughed, "we shall see lad, we shall see." Archer nodded at his mentor and friend, and glanced curiously at his newfound companion, but continued on with his story without missing a beat. They took a seat at the back and waited for him to finish.

When the last member of the audience vanished out into the night yawning, Archer finally joined his old friend. He greeted the strange lad warmly and then eyed his master. Roland smiled, "just another hapless stray I happened upon in the woods. He has agreed to come with us, at least until his shoulder heals, though I fear you shall be leaving me soon."

Archer's face fell, but there was an eagerness in his eyes that was only slightly dimmed, as he said, "actually, I was thinking that tomorrow I must set out on my own. At least if you think me ready?"

A tear came to Roland's eye as he said, "with all my heart lad! But how I shall miss you!"

Archer smiled sadly, "at least you were not long in finding a replacement." They all laughed at this, and after talking quietly for a few moments, retreated to their beds, which the innkeeper was kind enough to provide for his intriguing guests. And for the first time in a very long time, Bayard fell fast asleep.

Morning came, as is ever its habit, and Roland woke them that they might put some miles behind them, lest rumor of their presence reach the wrong ears. Once they were well away from civilized lands, a fork came in the road and Archer said with much sadness and joy, "I shall take the left and see what lies thither."

Roland nodded and said, "we shall see what lies upon the right. Farewell lad!" Archer smiled and waved, but did not linger for fear he might change his mind. They watched until he was out of sight and then continued on their own way. Roland sighed, "he shall do well but I will miss him." Bayard smiled sadly, thinking that he too might have had his part in this.

The Magpie lit on Erian's poll and whispered encouragingly, "child, do not regret what you were never meant to have. Your path lies along a different road than that of your friends but I watch over all." Erian was mortified and honored to provide a perch for such a Personage and trembled with joy and terror until the Master vanished as suddenly as He had come; Roland rode on oblivious to all that had passed among his companions.

Archer had not split off too soon from his master, for the Spy hunting Bayard and Erian was not long in finding them, and he had not come alone. A dozen of the Blackguard accompanied the dreadful creature and the oblivious little company would stand no chance against such a foe. The Spy had flown overheard earlier that day and knew exactly when and where to expect them, and so the entire party lay in wait with strict orders to take the villains alive. Erian was about to comment that something smelled wrong when the first arrow flew and took Roland in the chest; the man fell from his saddle and moved no more. Bayard stared down sadly, but had little time for thought as a small volley ended all contemplation and left only darkness and pain. Erian screamed his frustration as the boy fell but soon vanished, knowing there was nothing he could do at the moment to aid his friend.

The Spy stepped from his hiding place and stared down at their victims in disgust; he wanted living prisoners and only one of the pair yet drew breath. He snarled at his men, "who loosed the first arrow?"

A boy little older than the senseless Bayard crept forward and said in a quavering voice, "it was mine, Sir."

"What part of 'take them alive' do you not understand, wretch?" scowled the Spy, "You will be taking the place of the dead man in all that is to come. Seize him!" The boy fainted in terror even as his former colleagues moved in to disarm and bind him; he was a raw and unwilling recruit and this had been his first mission. It seemed his lack of skill with a bow had just cost him his life.

They took Roland's head for a prize, looted the corpse, and left the rest to the scavengers. They muttered about the vanished horse but the Spy smiled viciously, saying, "forget the beast and let us be off. We have what we came for."

He eyed the wounded Messenger with some glee, wondering what his vile master would make of the creature; it would certainly be interesting to watch. It was a pity the other fool had not survived, but at least they had one victim to sate their master's bloodlust, if an unanticipated one. They trudged on for what little remained of the day and made a disquiet camp; this sudden reminder of the price of failure left them all uneasy but they dared not make their feelings known, lest they suffer a similar fate. They left the prisoners bound to a tree on the edge of the camp and then went about their evening chores.

Bayard finally began to stir, groaning in agony as he regained his senses. They had removed their arrows, but had otherwise left his wounds untended. His shoulder throbbed in sympathy with the four new wounds scattered about his other shoulder, one arm, and two in his abdomen. His groan roused his fellow captive from his dejected maunderings as the boy asked, "alive are you?"

Bayard sat up slowly, "you might say that."

The boy laughed mirthlessly, "it would have been better had you ended as your friend; our end will not be half so pleasant."

Bayard eyed the lad in concern, "our?"

The boy said grimly, "I made a mistake and as such, I am bound to the same fate as you."

Bayard shook his head, "that is poor reward for your service."

The boy scoffed, "I did not wish such a life but they gave me no choice but serve or die. It seems I am doomed to the latter even so. Not that life was much worth the living in such company."

Bayard nodded, "I once thought the same."

The boy eyed him hopefully, "once?"

Bayard smiled weakly and then began telling the lad, Kyan by name, of his own strange adventures. By the time the guard gruffly told them to be silent, Kyan's hopelessness had turned to eagerness and almost something like joy, no matter that his end was unchanged from when the evening had begun. At last he had found something worth living, or dying, for. Here on the brink of utter despair he had found hope at last.

Bayard smiled weakly at his new friend and said with failing voice, "hold fast to the end and you have nothing to fear..." Then he was silent, for he had lapsed again into darkness as his wounds began to fester and the fever wracked his body. Kyan looked on helplessly and wondered what his own end would be.

The Spy was less than delighted to discover his most valuable prisoner delirious with the wound fever the following morning. The fool would not last more than a day in his condition and was absolutely no use to anyone here in the middle of nowhere. He had hoped to bear his prisoners into the very shadow of his master's dreadful lands beyond mountains as cold and dark as death, but the fool Messenger would be long dead by then and such a trek was not justified by one miserable wretch who failed in his duties. The Spy smiled in grim amusement, for the moment the boy died, the Arrow would regain its potency.

He turned his dead eyes upon the cowering Kyan and smiled his mirthless smile. What better fate for such a useless fool than to cast him immediately into eternity and hence into the Abyss? No torturous death could compare to that. His smile deepened as he ordered one of the Blackguard to cut the Messenger's throat. The man smiled delightedly, not wishing to carry such a prisoner any further than necessary, and quickly carried out his master's order. Bayard gasped once as his lifeblood poured forth from the wound and then suddenly he vanished in a flash of blinding light as mortality fled him once more.

Kyan watched in stunned horror, but suddenly found the Spy standing over him with a cruel looking arrow clutched in one fist; there was a look of anxious expectation on his face as he drove the shaft deep into the boy's heart. Kyan gasped once and vanished just as Bayard had done. The Spy gaped in horror, wondering where the Arrow had gone; he had thought using it on a mortal would cause no harm, failing to realize that it could only be used once a century in such a fashion. His heart sank as he realized his master would be most displeased and likely he would be joining his last victim in the Abyss very, very soon.

But Kyan did not end in the Abyss as the Spy had assumed, after a brief interview with his Maker, he found himself flailing in a glorious River right next to a stunned Bayard who gasped, "do not struggle."

As both relaxed, the River easily bore them to the bank where Roland stood with an amused look on his face and three Pegassi. Erian whinnied a greeting to Bayard as Kyan stared about in astonishment, "this has been the strangest day of my life."

Bayard grinned, "it will only get stranger but you are now well beyond life, at least mortally speaking."

Roland greeted his old companion warmly, "well met lad! It seems we have not yet had our last adventure together." While the old friends exchanged greetings, the third Pegassi and the new Messenger were also getting acquainted. Bayard smiled, wondering if Kyan's eyes could possibly get any bigger. Kyan then recognized the stranger as the man he had inadvertently killed what seemed ages ago. Roland slapped the speechless boy on the back encouragingly, "you will see stranger things yet lad than dead men walking. Let's go show the Enemy we aren't quite out of the fighting."

They reappeared in the waking world with Bayard at their head and the others bring up the rear like dutiful guards or servants. Bayard was bedecked as a Knight of the highest order, renown, and wealth and his two companions as his faithful squires, guards, and servants. He smiled back at Roland, "should you not be leading this parade?"

The man laughed in reply, "you have been at this far longer than either of us so I think it quite fitting you are in the lead, though I am dying to know what errand requires us to ride about in such pomp."

Erian quipped, "how can you be dying of anything? I thought you had already gotten that out of your system?"

Roland smiled, "excuse my poor choice of phrasing, my dear Pegassi, but I have not been long enough a Messenger to think as perhaps I ought." Erian seemed content with this answer though his human companions all shared an amused grin amongst themselves.

They rode on for much of the day, as evening came, a great city rose before them and the guards at the gate asked eagerly, "come to vie for the Princess' hand and thus the throne?"

Bayard answered boldly, "certainly. Lead on my good man." Two of the guards eagerly mounted their waiting horses and escorted the newcomer and his retinue to the castle gates where they announced his intentions. There seemed to be much excitement among the guards and servants, more than even such a contest should inspire. They were welcomed exuberantly by the Steward and given appropriate accommodations and then left to freshen up for the evening meal.

Kyan asked, "can you really marry a princess?"

Bayard laughed, "certainly not, but something is not right here. Why are they so excited over one more contender for their lady's hand?"

Roland nodded thoughtfully, "dinner shall be an interesting meal." He smiled, then bowed deeply adding, "my most esteemed lord."

Bayard eyed him with a wry smile, "I fear you are enjoying this assignment far too much already."

Roland grinned, "I think you are right."

Kyan just shook his head and sighed at the comportment of his friends. They emerged from their ablutions, curious and eager to see what the evening would reveal; a waiting servant dutifully led them to the banquet, where they hoped to learn something of that which was to come. Bayard was seated at a raised table at a level just slightly below that upon which the King and his daughter dined; the latter eyed the new arrival with interest. His faithful servants were placed somewhere at the back and well out of sight. The long table was completely empty save for himself. The numerous empty seats bore witness to the continuing strangeness of this adventure; the table should have been filled with those vying for the Lady's hand but the boy sat alone at the great table.

The guests continued to file in and many looked with hope upon the bold young knight who dared take such a seat, but their hope was tempered by a deeper fear that even this promising youth could not alter the fate that was soon to befall their beloved Princess. A shudder seemed to run through the room as an awful presence entered the dining hall and seated itself at the far end of Bayard's table; the Dreadlord eyed the boy with interest and the Messenger could feel the sneer lost in the depths of its inky helm. Here was the reason none would dare compete for the lady's hand because none could face such a foe and live.

The hideous laughter that floated down the table to Bayard sent an involuntary chill down his spine; he reached instinctively for his sword, which was not there. The thing noticed his reaction and laughed all the more. The King then stood and said, "I am pleased to announce that another challenger has presented himself for the competition which will soon commence for my daughter's hand. Welcome Sir Knight and may you fight and ride the best you ever will in the coming days." The meal then began and Bayard was forced to wait until it was over and the court began to filter into the adjoining room to mingle and gossip, before confronting the King and his future adversary.

The King was quite pleased to become acquainted with such a bold warrior and wished him the best of luck in the coming days. After glancing around nervously he said, "only you can save my poor girl from her intended fate but I fear even your boldness will not be enough."

He then turned and fled, lest his preference become known to the Dreadlord, which was a silly thought, as anything or anyone would quite obviously be preferred to such a creature. The contest had been announced six months prior and many an eager suitor had made an appearance but all but the boldest had fled when the Dreadlord appeared on the scene with similar intentions. Those few that remained had been goaded into a duel with the thing and none had long lived to tell the tale, leaving the Dreadlord as the only suitor for Her Majesty's hand. The competition would commence in three days and he seemed like to be winner by default, at least until Bayard's arrival.

The King had not been long fled when the Dreadlord approached the seeming Knight with the intention of frightening the youth away or goading him into a duel ere the festivities could begin. Said the creature, "you are an utter fool to think you could best me boy."

Bayard smiled, "we will not know until I try."

The thing scoffed, "no mortal can defeat me, wretch! One small scratch from my blade is enough to kill any man. Flee like the cur you are before you rue it eternally."

Bayard shrugged, "we shall see soon enough how deadly your weapons truly are."

The Dreadlord laughed cruelly, "then I look forward to enlightening you." He stalked away, leaving Bayard to the rest of the court.

They could not wait to hear more of this bold lad and hoped he would not be joining his predecessors in an early grave. It was very early in the morning before the court had had their fill and allowed Bayard to return to his room, whither his companions had fled long since. "Well?" asked he, shutting the door behind him.

Roland shrugged, "it seems straightforward enough. Rid the Kingdom of that thing and everyone can rest easy."

Kyan shivered, "I pity the princess in thinking she is doomed to marry such a thing. I did not know such creatures were allowed to marry mortals."

Bayard frowned, "that was my thought as well but I suppose they are all of them rebels against the Master and can flout His laws as they see fit."

Roland shook his head, "poor girl indeed!"

Kyan looked anxious, "what if you are defeated?"

Roland smiled eagerly, "that is why there are three of us. If Bayard is struck down, then we will have our chance at the thing." Kyan did not look eager in the least for such an honor.

The following day, another challenger presented himself to the King, much cheering his Royal Majesty as this perhaps increased the odds that his daughter might be spared; he was to the point where any male human person would be acceptable as a future son-in-law as long as he spared his daughter and the Kingdom from that thing.

Kyan, however was not so pleased to see this new addition to the competition, for he said quietly to Bayard soon after glimpsing the new arrival, "that is my old commander from the Blackguard!"

Bayard nodded, now recognizing the man, then said, "we can certainly handle the Dreadlord, but what about him?"

Roland smiled broadly as he placed a firm hand on Bayard's shoulder and turned him back towards the King, where a rather familiar person was just rising from a bow to His Highness. Bayard smiled deeply, "this shall be an interesting contest indeed!"

Archer left the King and joined the mingling court in the gardens. He shuddered when his eyes met those of the Dreadlord; the mocking smile of the other mortal competitor made it certain that the two would not keep company together, which left Bayard and his retinue for the plainly clad Archer to become friendly with. The boy did not recognize his former companions and seemed a bit intimidated by their rich attire, yet attracted by their easy manner and noble bearing.

"Well met, friend," said Bayard to his long sundered companion, "are you truly willing to enter this strange contest?"

The boy laughed nervously, "I have but little choice as the order comes from One I dare not disobey, though I know not my chances in this mad contest. I do not like the look or feel of either of the others."

Roland smiled, "that is why neither must be successful in what they seek."

Archer nodded grimly, "this I know and will attempt though it cost me my life."

Bayard grinned, "and if you survive, you get to be King."

This truly made Archer pale, "I had not thought of that."

Roland laughed deeply, "come lad, there are worse fates, surely."

Archer smiled weakly, "for me or for this poor country should I be put at its head?"

They all shared a laugh at this and continued in genial conversation until the Black Knight felt inclined to burst their jovial bubble. Said he, "I do not see cause for mirth with those who should be your bitterest foes. But it matters not, for none but I shall win the day."

The Dreadlord came up behind all of them and snarled, "nay fool, only if the unthinkable happens. Remain safely away from me and you may keep your life, unlike these fools who are doomed regardless. I look forward to watching them die." He stalked off as the Black Knight scowled and retreated in the opposite direction.

Kyan shook his head, "they cannot cooperate even though they are on the same side?"

Roland shook his head, "power and domination is all the Enemy understands and so do his servants compete one against the other, even though their master is the same."

Archer shivered, "I do not look forward to facing that thing!"

Bayard shook his head grimly, "I will deal with him if you take that other fellow."

Archer smiled ruefully, "I do not know if I am even a match for him but I will not say no to such an offer, crazy as it is for you to suggest it."

Roland smiled eagerly, "tomorrow shall be an interesting day I think."

Bayard said dryly, "I do not think I like your idea of interesting."

They shared a weak grin and tried to find some subject upon which they might dwell that might vanquish the sudden feeling of doom and heaviness that seemed to have draped itself about them since the interview with their enemies. Roland asked of Archer, "how is it you come to be here lad when you say yourself that you are no knight?"

Archer smiled in remembrance, saying, "I have a little skill with a sword, a staff, and a bow, but have never attempted such a sport as jousting, I hope it does not come to that."

Roland shook his head, "with so few competitors, I think not."

Archer continued, looking quite relieved, "that is a very good thing else this entire contest would be futile, at least for my part. Anyway, I have traveled the world alone for the last three years after parting from my master, doing what good I can in this strange world. One day as I wandered along, a magpie lit on a branch before me and told me to come hence and to do there what I knew I must."

Bayard smiled warmly, "that is certainly a summons one must not disobey. Know you are not alone in your quest and may we both be successful in our endeavors, for the sake of the Princess and her Kingdom."

Archer glanced at their foes and said grimly, "I wish with all my heart that it might be so but that which is to come will not be pleasant, yet we shall face it nonetheless."

Kyan said aloud, "I wonder what the contest shall entail?"

"An excellent question," said a stuffy voice just behind them, "and one I would be happy to answer if your Excellencies would care to join us?" They suddenly noticed that the man had collected the other two competitors and was unhurriedly herding the remainder towards the castle and into a small, private dining room. The two factions seated themselves on either side of the great table and watched their odd host strut up and down the front of the room, lecturing on the finer points of the morrow's contest. It would be a contest of the sword and the sword alone. There had been much hope for a joust but alas circumstances sadly prevented it, much to Archer's relief. The man continued, "you will be paired off by random selection and the winners of each bout will then face each other in the final contest."

The Dreadlord laughed horribly, "and I shall be the only one left alive at the end of this contest unless you flee this night as it would have been wise to do previously." Archer and the Black Knight shuddered but the Messengers only sighed. It laughed again, "then tomorrow you shall meet your doom." He stood and stormed from the room while the studious man at the front continued to prattle on as if nothing had happened.

After the meeting, dinner was attended with the required pomp and then it was all to bed, in anticipation of the glorious spectacle the morrow would bring. Kyan said once they were alone, "if this is to be a random selection of foes, how are we to do what we must should the wrong pairs come together?"

Roland smiled deeply, "you forget that there is very little that is truly random in the Universe. Have no fear, the morrow shall work out as it should else this whole mission would be pointless."

They spent the balance of the night discussing potential strategy for the contest and were quite eager to try their plans when the morning finally came. The competitors marched out onto the field with great pomp and in their finest regalia, which made Archer's plain clothes seem downright drab. The Dreadlord and Dark Knight each smirked and sneered during the King's entire address and the reading of the rules of conduct. Each of the competitors then drew a colored ribbon from the hat held out by the Steward. Archer's red paired with that of the Knight as did Bayard's blue match him with the Dreadlord.

"Blue shall go first," said the Steward, who motioned for the pair to enter the ring around which the judges dispersed themselves.

The Dreadlord sneered, "this shall be a short contest indeed." He flourished his sword with zest and flung himself at the boy before the Steward finished speaking, forcing the judges to dive out of the way.

Bayard, expecting something of the sort, had his blade ready and blocked his onrushing foe. They clashed for a full minute with no blows being given or received by either party when the creature scored Bayard across the shoulder. The Messenger flinched but did not drop his guard and dove at his foe as the creature reveled in its perceived triumph, but the Dreadlord managed to block his impudent foe, snarling in confusion as to why the boy had not yet fallen to his tainted wound. No mortal could survive such a strike! The thought suddenly occurred to the Dreadlord that perhaps this was no mortal and if so, he had best make an end of the creature before it ruined his plans. He rushed upon his foe in a great rage and Bayard could barely block each violent thrust and strike. Kyan anxiously watched the match and knew it could not be long before the Dreadlord triumphed and then he or Roland must face the horrible thing.

Not wishing to face the creature in its wrath and triumph, Kyan chose at that moment to join the fray while the Dreadlord was distracted with Bayard. He easily struck a mortal blow on the creature that was wholly focused on destroying Bayard. The monster screamed in agony and turned his wrath upon the neophyte Messenger, whom he easily clove in two before vanishing in a vapor of smoke with a hideous shriek. There was no sign of Kyan, as he too had vanished. Bayard stood, gaping in amazement and a shocked smile slowly grew upon his face as he realized this foe, which had been too much for him, was no more a threat.

The Steward however, though as relieved as all the rest of the onlookers, was quite astonished at this grievous breach of protocol and wasted no time in informing Bayard that due to this unfortunate circumstance he must withdraw from the contest. The stunned Messenger stared blankly at the man in complete incomprehension, forgetting the entire purpose of this little sword match. The Steward took this stunned silence as a bad sign and motioned for the guards to stand ready for trouble. Roland, smiling like a madman at the incongruity of the situation, went to his 'master's' aid and drew Bayard out of the center of things. The crowd was silent in amazement and suddenly erupted in cheers of joy and wonder as they too awakened to this wondrous event, no matter the oddity of it.

The Steward however, lost little time in herding the last two competitors into the ring and getting on with the contest. The Black Knight looked uneasy but also eager for his chance at the crown, but he certainly could not comprehend what had just happened in the previous contest and what his own chances were against such strange foes, but at least he would not have to face the creature himself. By now the Steward had finished his prattling and the judges vacated the ring, leaving the two to themselves. They bared their swords and began circling one another. The Knight was bold and Archer cautious; they exchanged a few practice blows to test the other's skill.

Bayard whispered to Roland, "we cannot help him?"

Roland shook his head grimly, "we cannot openly meddle in mortal affairs. We have done our part, now Archer must do his."

The match was in full swing and it seemed the Knight would perhaps triumph for he seemed the bolder, but Archer was no stranger to the sword. He was cautious but he in no way lacked skill. The over bold Knight soon lay dying upon the turf and the crowd again erupted in a triumphant cheer. They did not know what to think of this plainly clad stranger but he must be better than the vile Knight or worse, the Dreadlord. After such choices, they would gladly accept anyone in their stead.

"Well my boy," trumpeted the King, "you shall be King!" Archer made no reply, for he had fainted dead away at the shock of such an announcement.

Bayard smiled joyously at Roland, "I am sure this is not the fate he envisioned when we joined up with you so long ago."

Roland laughed delightedly, "not in the least, nor did I." He added thoughtfully, "of course, our own careers have taken quite a turn from whatever we ourselves had originally intended. But I must say, the Master's plans are always far superior to our own, no matter how they seem in the beginning."

A man vigorously clearing his throat drew the attention of the amused pair, as the Steward said rather timidly, "as your Excellency has managed to lose the contest, I would ask that out of all politeness to our winner that you withdraw your persons from the premises."

"No, no," came the dazed reply from the just revived Archer, "these gentlemen must certainly stay on, at least for the celebratory feast, if not indefinitely as my own personal attendants."

"That is a grand idea," said Roland boldly, "and one we heartily accept."

Archer looked at him strangely, "I have no idea where that last offer came from but it feels right and necessary, so shall it stand."

The Steward seemed quite flummoxed but could not gainsay the fledgling Prince so was forced to play along with this strange new idea, saying stuffily, "well, my most esteemed Sirs, you had best go prepare yourselves for an extravagant evening."

Bayard shook his head, "we shall certainly attend but I am loath to part from our new master." Roland nodded firmly and Archer seemed relieved; something weird was happening but they all seemed to know their parts in whatever was to come.

"Very well," said the flummoxed servant, "if your Excellencies will follow me?"

They all exchanged a very amused smile and followed their aghast guide. There was little time for talk as the trio was primped and groomed until even the fastidious Steward was content that they would not embarrass the King and Archer's affianced bride. The man seemed born to be a King, at least once he was free of his peasant rags and nervous tendencies. The two Messengers allowed themselves to be dandified to the point of properly dressed minions, but no more.

Archer said quietly to his new Guardsmen, "this has been the strangest day of my life."

Bayard grinned like a mischievous little boy, "I think it can only get stranger." There came no reply, for the Steward was herding the small party downstairs to the extravaganza.

The night passed quietly for the Messengers as they warded Archer from any unseen foes; their presence might discourage mortal foes, though they could do little against them; any of the undead variety they could certainly destroy. Bayard asked of Roland as the night wore on, "is this not a strange assignment for our kind?"

Roland laughed quietly, "it is strange enough for a Wanderer to be King. I am sure we have not seen the last of our foes this day. The Enemy will not ignore such an insult nor would our Master let us remain upon a vain assignment, even for the sake of an old friend."

Finally the evening came to an end, sometime in the wee hours of the morning, and the three could withdraw for a private word in Archer's luxurious quarters. Once they had settled in comfortably, Archer eagerly began, "we seem to have been thrust together almost unwittingly but I am sure our Master has some purpose in it. I cannot believe the part I am to play myself. What of your lost friend? What came of the Dreadlord? Are you not bitter to have lost the crown yourselves?"

Roland laughed heartily, "one question at a time lad. We are here to defend the Kingdom from such evil; we seek no crown nor can we claim one. I would not worry about Kyan, he did what he had to. The Dreadlord was defeated but likely it or something like it will be back for revenge."

Archer frowned, "I thought no mortal man could best such creatures? Why no tears for your fallen friend? Only utterly heartless wretches could act so nonchalantly when one they called friend has so recently fallen and you are no such cads. What or who are you?"

He eyed Bayard's shoulder with interest, "I saw the Dreadlord's sword strike but you took no permanent harm; that wound alone should have been the end of you."

Roland smiled proudly, "you see much lad, your late master would be proud."

"My late...?" gasped Archer as his frown deepened, "How would you know anything of me or mine?"

Finally Archer's eyes saw who had been at his side all along. He sat down suddenly with a gasp as tears filled his eyes, "it cannot be."

Bayard embraced his stunned friend heartily, "certainly improbable but not impossible. Your observations were correct, though hopefully no one else was as astute an observer as you."

Archer looked first upon one and then upon the other, they certainly seemed his friends of old acquaintance but his face held such a mix of terror and joy that he could hardly speak or know what to think. Roland slapped him on the back in the old, familiar way and this more than anything else put the man at ease. They certainly seemed his old friends, but how could this be? At that moment, Bayard drew his sword and pierced Archer's heart. The boy gasped in horror and then frowned in even greater perplexity at his apparent invulnerability to death.

Roland shook his head and smiled ruefully as Bayard put up his sword, not even stained with a drop of blood. Archer did not bother to feel at his chest where he knew no wound gaped. Bayard said with a grin, "at least now you know we can do you no harm, ghosts though you think us."

Archer said quietly, "but the Dreadlord?"

Roland snorted, "we can harm no mortal man but the undead minions of evil are quite another matter, and so do we remain in your service."

Archer asked the obvious question, "no, you are no ghosts but what then are you?" He looked at Roland sadly, "I did not even know you slain."

Roland nodded grimly, "a company of the Blackguard ambushed us not long after our parting."

Archer asked, "and your new Apprentice?"

Bayard grinned, "that was me."

Archer shook his head, "I should have known but never even dreamed! But you have not answered my question, what are you?"

Bayard turned questioning eyes on Roland, who said, "we are still men, though we happen to live beyond death and serve our Master still. More I cannot say, you must wait for your own time to come for that."

Archer nodded grimly, "fair enough I suppose. Though I must say it is wonderful to see you both again and know I am not alone in this strange new adventure." He eyed Roland oddly, "it is strange to hear just now of your demise from your own lips. I do not know whether to weep or rejoice."

Roland smiled deeply, "don't cry for me lad, for I am well beyond tears."

Archer smiled with misty eyes, "it shall be grand to share one last adventure together." Somehow they all knew what he meant though they did not realize it until long afterwards.

Archer married the Princess and soon after the death of his father-in-law, was crowned King. The Messengers warded their friend constantly and helped assemble a mortal bodyguard that might be more useful against breathing foes. Over the course of the years, they drove off or destroyed many an undead foe intent on some mischief against the King who dared defy their master. And defy the Evil One he did. His became the first Kingdom in history that willingly defied the Enemy and embraced the Master. The people eagerly listened to the tales told by the King himself and soon came to adore his Master as their own. A veritable army of Wanderers was turned loose upon the world once the King felt them ready and soon the whole world was hearing boldly what previously had only been whispered in secret or long thought myth. Within a decade, the entire world had now heard of the Master and His ways, though many had decided against such a Person, they could not deny they had had the chance of hearing what they must, come what would. And come it did.

A plainly clad boy came galloping madly into the castle courtyard one bright morning and did not heed the guards demanding he stop and explain himself. He dismounted and dashed into the castle, leaving the horse alone in the courtyard, though the beast was not even lathered or blowing hard from the speed of their ride. Again the guards demanded the boy halt or he would be dealt with forcefully. He heeded them not and made his way deep into the castle where the King sat at court with all his lords and advisors about him. The unannounced interruption and entrance of an armed man drew every man to his feet with his hand on his weapon, but the King recognized the boy, though they had only met for a short time, long ago.

He ordered his men to stand down and asked of his eager visitor, "what would you have of me lad?"

Kyan made the proper bows, smiled at his comrades in the crowd, and began, "Majesty, I come with tidings both grim and wonderful. The End has come."

Archer frowned, "the end of what?"

Kyan said with grim eagerness, "the End of everything, at least as mortal men know it. It is time for greater things but first the old must pass away."

Archer seemed stunned, not thinking he would live to see such a day but knew it must come someday. He said, "what would the Master have of us?"

Kyan's smile deepened, "gather all your faithful men and march towards the Withered Lands."

Archer gaped, "but that is suicide!"

Kyan nodded, "whether here or there, all shall soon be at an end, but it would not do to be found outside our Master's will in this."

Archer nodded, "it shall be as you say."

Kyan bowed deeply, smiled his encouragement, nodded to his two comrades, and was suddenly gone. The King turned to his captain and said, "you heard the man, get our soldiers in their saddles and ready to ride. Any man loyal to the Master must go, the rest may do as they please." The startled man saluted neatly and dashed off to make ready his master's orders. The King then turned to his greatest lords and advisors, "gentlemen, the End has come. If you have not already, I suggest you make your peace with the Master. Those of you so willing have one day to gather your likeminded men and join us upon this last adventure." He then turned to his Messengers, "may I have a word, gentlemen?" They nodded eagerly and followed the King to a small, private room to talk.

Archer turned eagerly to his friends, "it is time?"

Roland smiled, "actually it is the End of Time."

The King asked, "is there anything more you can tell me?"

Bayard shook his head, "nothing more than you already know. The battle is not ours but the Master's and He has already won. This is just the end of one story and the beginning of another that will be indescribably better."

There was such an eagerness in their manner and words that the King soon forgot his dread of the unknown and was nearly as eager himself to march out the following day as he had been ordered. Every able-bodied man in the Kingdom who fancied himself a servant of the Master was soon on his way with the rest of his brethren to the Withered Lands, beyond which dwelt his Grim Majesty. They knew they marched to their doom but the King's eagerness seemed infectious and they marched as excitedly as innocent boys off on their first adventure with no thought or fear of what was inevitably to come. Bayard and Roland marched right along with them.

Erian quipped, "I did not think to make my last stand in the mortal world alongside mortal men afoot and others so poorly mounted!"

Bayard laughed, "you should be happy for so many allies, my dear Pegassi, for it means many men have answered our Master's call, which makes them our brothers."

Erian reared for joy, "you are certainly right but it still seems a rather incongruous end."

Roland smiled, "of such endings the Master is quite fond, I think." They all shared a smile and continued their march.

Or so they thought. One moment they were marching along the wooded road on a brilliant summer day, the next they were standing in a bleak land, dim as twilight on a rainy day. Terrible mountains towered overhead and not a thing grew upon that bleak and dismal plain. The horses whinnied in fear at the very feel of the place, but they were not long alone. Suddenly the entire plain was filled with other such men who had answered their Master's last call, ranging from whole armies to solo farmers wielding only a hoe.

Garren was suddenly among them, shouting orders and getting everyone into some semblance of military precision. He drew rein alongside Bayard, Roland, and the King saying, "glad you could make it gentlemen."

He winked at Archer, "it seems you made it much farther in life than your friend here."

Archer recognized the man and shared a startled smile with Bayard, "am I the only one who has not joined your little society?"

Garren smiled grimly, "today will be the day that unites us all. They come!" Among the mortal men gathered to challenge the power of the Dark One, suddenly there appeared an uncountable host of the Messengers and all sorts of other creatures to which men could put no name.

This sudden appearance of these strange glowing figures did little to frighten the mortal men, for their full attention was focused entirely on the oncoming hordes of the Evil One. Darkness seemed to surround them like a flood, but it was a flood in which moved every sort of horror and evil imaginable and it looked set to overwhelm them all. Garren had arranged them in a circle with his men facing outward and the mass of evil fully surrounding them all. They poured over this pathetic last stand like the sea upon a sandcastle and fully intended to wash them away into eternal night.

Every man fought to the last, but there were too many and it seemed the Light would be overwhelmed, but as one after the other fell to the darkness, one last light stood in the midst of that horde and glowed fit to shame the sun. Many of the vile minions drew away in fear, others tried to vanquish this last, bold warrior but to no avail. Suddenly the brilliance overwhelmed everything and with a pathetic wail, the once great Enemy vanished forever from that plane of reality, as did all those who chose other than the Master. What came after, no mortal tale tells but we can be sure it was quite wonderful.

Sacrifice:

"I do not know why they still do this?" exclaimed Ryan as they bumped along in the carriage that was carrying them to their doom.

Tyne grumbled, "tradition I suppose. We are the lucky ones I guess, if you can call this sort of exile luck. In the old days they used to build altars and that sort of thing. No one survived. At least we have a chance."

Garren laughed mirthlessly, "you call exile into the Eastern Desert luck? Better to just have it over with than to die of thirst or be set upon by some beast! And for what? To satisfy the blood lust of a pagan god that no one is sure still demands such tribute or even exists?"

"Hush," said Ryan desperately, "do you want to make things even worse? It was much worse back in the Dark Days. Nearly every village had to provide a victim every third year back then. Now at least it is only one from the North, South, and Midlands and that every ten years."

Garren crossed his arms and growled, "it is still too many! Especially when we are the 'lucky' ones."

Tyne frowned slightly, "what changed?"

Ryan shrugged, "they say something strange happened to change everything. Such a change as has not happened since the dawn of time. It shook the world and drove back the Dark for a time. But the people were too terrified yet to completely change their vile ways immediately, but little by little they began to back down on the number and frequency of the Sacrifices and so far disaster has not yet befallen them. Someday perhaps they will cease entirely."

Garren groused, "days we will not live to see. What exactly is the point, anyway?"

Tyne shivered, "they say that if the proper Sacrifice was not provided, a horde of fell creatures would swoop in and destroy the entire village. So it was not a foolish thing to give up one promising lad every so often to save the rest."

Garren sighed, "and who would think such a sacrifice worthwhile on their part to make?"

His question remained unanswered as the coach jolted to a stop and the door was flung open. A dozen heavily armed guards stood about the door, leaving barely enough room for the three to emerge from their rolling prison. The captain then spoke solemnly in a grim voice, "you three have been chosen by your homelands to partake in the Ritual. You must go forward and not look back. What happens beyond is in the hands of the gods, but it is assumed that death can be the only outcome. Do not try to return, for if you do, death shall be inevitable. It is a noble thing to die for the world. Now go forth from it and think not of return nor of a future but only of the good you do for those you leave behind." As he finished speaking, a soldier handed each boy a water bottle and a small knife. The company parted and the solemn captain said, "GO!" with all the inevitability of a prison door slamming shut. The boys exchanged a grim look and set forth into the rocky expanse before them, not looking back as the soldiers shrunk with distance nor daring to speak until they were well out of sight.

It was a grim land, the East. It was as if someone had taken a great knife and drawn a line. Upon one side was the bright and happy, or at least relatively happy, world and on the other was a grey, rocky desert that rolled on out of sight. It was said it had never rained in that place and that the wind had scoured the earth bare, right down to the bedrock. Here and there a forgotten boulder raised its weary head but else the unfortunate eyes of the wretched travelers in that land had naught else to rest upon. It was a land of rolling hills that might have been pleasant had anything grown there. A cold wind blew ever out of the west and grey clouds stooped low overhead but never threatened rain. A black stain upon the horizon hinted at distant mountains but otherwise the clouds and the land would have run together and been lost in the distance.

It was said beyond the Desert lay a vast range of mountains, unapproachable by mortal men, for besides the Desert, there was also a phenomenon called the Rift, which was said to be a pit of infinite depth that stood between the desert lands and the mountains. But oh, the Mountains! To look upon those, and even to die after, was thought the greatest sight mortal man might glimpse, for it was said even the rock itself was a living thing and they glowed with light and peace and joy, but who could survive the journey thence and even more so the journey back? It must be yet another wild tale out of ancient days.

They trudged on in weary resignation until their escort was lost with distance, and finally Ryan said, "must we continue on?"

Garren nodded sullenly, "they will kill us if ever we venture back and I am sure they will watch the border until all hope of survival is long past. We are supposed to go willingly for the sake of our kin, but I am afraid it is a pointless exercise and cannot bring myself to die heroically for the sake of superstition."

Tyne grumbled, "what is the point of sending us out with water and a weapon?"

Ryan smiled grimly, "to give us hope I suppose, or at least get us far enough away from the border that all hope of rescue dies with us."

A thought occurred to Garren and he said a little eagerly, "well, if we are going to die anyway, why not make the best of it?" The others gave him a puzzled look and he continued, "let us make for the Mountains. I do not know if the tales are true, but it would at least give us something to aim for in our last, miserable days. At least then we have not died completely in vain."

Tyne snorted derisively, "think that if it brings you joy. I see no point in this entire exercise, but it is as good an idea as any in this forsaken place, I suppose." Without further comment, they turned their weary feet towards the dark blotch upon the horizon and walked until darkness fell. They curled up beneath a boulder and tried to sleep but it was a land bereft of any peace or comfort.

In the morning, if morning it was, for all one noticed was a lightening of the grim clouds above, they set out again, carefully conserving their water. So for two days they walked on and ever the mountains loomed larger in the distance, but their water was gone and they would not survive the impossible journey that would bring them to their very roots.

"Enough," groused Tyne, as he stopped his pointless journey and stood unmoving as the boulders in that barren land, "I will go no further."

Ryan sat wearily down and said, "might as well die standing still as going somewhere."

Garren said anxiously, "I cannot sit down and wait to die. I will continue even if it must be alone."

"But you are not alone," came a sinister voice from just above them, "ever has my master watched your journey with concern. He would not have you die alone in such a place as this."

Ryan stood up in terror and the three huddled together as the thing alighted, for they had no better word to describe it. The creature was man shaped but draped all in black cloth with dark armor beneath. Eyes like embers glittered in the depths of his hood and he sat upon some sort of winged reptile that croaked and groaned as it lit upon the earth. It stared hungrily at the three mortal children but its rider checked its bloodlust ere they came to grief.

"Who...who...is your master?" croaked Tyne. The thing seemed to smile, one could not see so much as sense it and none liked the feeling.

It said, "why the Dark Prince of course. Who else has the power to save you from such an atrocious end?"

Garren crossed his arms, glared at the baleful thing, and said, "who indeed? I thought it was to his monstrous appetite that we were blissfully committed by our kith and kin?"

"Silence boy!" snarled the creature, "You will spare me your insolence or you shall regret it sorely." Garren paled and took a step back in terror. The creature smiled again and said, "you can come with me if you wish or you can stay here where not even the buzzards or flies will pick your carcass."

Tyne asked uneasily but with hope rising in his voice, "we are not doomed then?"

The thing laughed darkly, "only if you remain here."

"What happens if we go with you?" asked the petrified Ryan.

The thing said ominously, "that you must find out when you get there. But it must certainly be better than this place."

Tyne said, "I shall come."

Garren drew back even further from the thing and said quietly, "better to die a death I know than risk a worse with such as you." The thing snarled silently but otherwise ignored the outspoken wretch.

Ryan shook his head nervously, "I do not like this place but I like you even less. I shall remain."

"Fools!" gasped Tyne, "Know you not hope when you see it?"

"Despair is more the feeling I get," said Garren roughly.

"So be it," snarled the creature, as he helped the terrified but exultant Tyne into the saddle before him.

The beast croaked and snarled as it took wing, they were soon lost to sight and perhaps from the mortal earth for all they knew. Garren shivered and turned to Ryan, who was looking quite pale after their encounter. Garren said quietly but with some intrigue in his voice, "what if all the old stories are true? We just saw an emissary of the Dark Prince. If the Prince is real, certainly his enemy must also be!"

Ryan groaned, "Tyne is fool enough to get himself spirited away by that monster and now you are looking for comfort in old wives' tales? There is no more a Great King across those Impossible Mountains of yours than there is a Dark Prince who dwells in the utter west beyond the Mountains of Night. If there were such a King, would he allow the Prince to have dominion over all the lands of men? Would he allow innocent children to be sacrificed to sate the inexorable bloodlust of his enemy? It is all myth and legend and nothing more. We are going to die and that is the end of it."

"Then what was that thing?" gasped Garren desperately.

Ryan shook his head, "I do not know and I do not care. It gave me the creeps and for all I know it is a simple raving of my water deprived mind. I deny your Dark Prince and your King and will no longer abide such nonsense." He stood then and began walking off towards the North, never looking back towards the Mountains to the East or his companion behind him.

"Ryan!" Garren called desperately after the retreating figure but an anguished laugh, half tinged with madness, was the only reply.

Alone, the boy set off once more towards the East, knowing all was pointless but refusing to give up even so. Another day and night passed as had all the others, but finally he could go no further. His tongue was swollen in his mouth, his body felt as if it were on fire. Madness or blackness or worse lingered on the verge of consciousness and Garren welcomed it bitterly. The Mountains loomed in the distance but he would never reach them. He wondered if Ryan was in a similar or worse state by now. Perhaps it was a small blessing that they need not watch each other die or they might have set upon one another in a thirst induced madness.

Garren glanced at the knife he carried. He now understood its purpose. There was nothing to hunt in this land, no tree or stick to cut, but it could be used to end the pain of a slow and terrible death. He glanced again at the welcoming blade but threw it as far as he could in disgust. His relatives might not care much about his life, but it was all that was left him. He lay there, unable to rise, unable to sleep, and waited. Each moment was a torment, each second a grievous strain upon a mortal soul. What had come of Tyne? Would it not have been wiser to follow after than to die like this?

"Do not be silly," came a high-pitched voice that was very nearly a squawk. Garren laboriously turned his head in surprise and would have jumped had he the strength. For here was another living creature in this desolate land. A magpie sat upon a small stone and stared at him with its beady eyes, waiting eagerly no doubt to peck out his own in the not too distant future. But how could this small carrion fowl survive in such a desolate place? The bird's presence was what had surprised him, the fact that it could talk seemed a trivial thing to his addled mind. The bird continued, as if he knew all that passed in that troubled mind, "you chose the wiser path though certainly a miserable death. At least it is a true death. Your friend faces a living death whereas perhaps you can find life even among the shadows and dust of death."

"Who are you?" asked the boy, beginning to feel that this bird was not some figment of his own imagining.

The bird smiled, but said nothing for a moment, and then continued, "that you must learn later, but for now the question is what shall come of you?"

"I am going to die," said the boy with some irritation.

"Why?" said the bird in an irritatingly calm manner.

The exasperated boy growled, "because my folk thought it the only way to save their own skins!"

The bird shook his head sadly, "a pointless practice that. But you need not die for their foolishness." The boy would have wept in frustration had he tears. The bird continued unfazed, "child, I do not speak so to mock you. You may yet find hope in My words. You refused to go with your previous savior. Why?"

The boy calmed himself enough to speak and said, "I did not like the feel of him."

The bird nodded sagely and asked, "and Me?"

The boy said, "I feel strangely comfortable in your presence sir, but have little hope so small a creature can avail me."

The bird laughed, "how small your faith child. Just because something seems impossible does not make it so. The question is, are you willing to give up this life to serve Me?" The boy was about to ask how he, a moribund child of men, could be of service to a small creature of avian kind, but his question died on his tongue as an overwhelming sense of peace and awe and fear fell upon him. It must have been quite a scene, a wasted child of men, cowering before a little bird, but so it was, and none dared laugh who knew the truth of the matter. "What will you do child?" asked the bird patiently.

The boy dared to look up in astonishment and stuttered, "what will you have of me? I am completely at your mercy."

The bird cocked his head in some amusement and said, "child, I force no one. You may choose to serve Me, else you can choose not and I shall leave you to your choice."

The boy shivered, disliking the very idea of being left utterly alone by this strange Being. He whispered, "what must I do?"

The bird smiled and said, "submit to Me, heart and soul. Acknowledge that there is Something greater to which you owe everything, for from thence Everything sprang."

"But I am nothing," said the boy morosely.

The bird cocked His head and said, "true, you are not worthy in yourself, no one is, but I consider you worthwhile and in My Universe that counts for everything."

The boy gaped, "but why?"

The bird said quietly, "love, of course. I brought everything into being out of Love, that you may love each other and Myself and that I may love you. But then your first fathers rebelled against Me and left Paradise to live as they felt they should. But even before their rebellion, My greatest servant rebelled and dwells now a Prince in your wretched sphere. The disorder and the chaos that resulted were terrible, as you are yet witness today. I should have just destroyed it all and begun anew but alas, My love was too great. Instead, I came Myself in mortal guise, to teach and encourage but yet mankind would not hear Me, and in their wrath killed Him who need not have known death!

Yes, I Myself, have tasted of death and have trod upon mortal soil. I made you child, but I have also been one of you. I know all the sorrow and grief that can wring a mortal heart, I who need have known none of it! But that was a sore day for that Dark Prince, for it broke his bitter hold over the earth and allowed men once more to seek Me, if they would. The blood of mortal children could not quench the insatiable appetite of sin and death, but Mine could forever mend the wound that such rebels have wrought. The choice is yet before you child. Will you have Me or not?"

The boy stared in complete wonder but did not reply, for he had fainted dead away. He had heard bits and pieces of the tale all his life but never had he given it much thought. The concept was astounding! Even that it was true was shock enough, but that Deity would take on Mortality for the sake of wretched man and even know death for his sake! It was too much for a healthy mind to take in suddenly; it was far too much for a mind weakened by deprivation and grief.

The bird hopped forward and breathed full upon the boy, who felt as if he were rolling fresh out of bed after a long and pleasant sleep. The bird cocked His head and asked, "well?"

The boy smiled weakly and said, "I have little idea what I am agreeing to, but I say yes with all that is within me."

The bird smiled then and said, "you shall see greater things yet! But first there are unpleasant things to be addressed."

The bird took wing and like some miniscule eagle, took hold of the boy's collar and lifted him bodily into the air. In moments, the Mountains grew great before them and the bird set him gently upon the edge of the Rift. Garren wished with all his heart to draw back from the brink, to even be dying alone out in the desert rather than face that! It was a chasm, wide enough that no mortal creature could jump it but no wider, yet it had no bottom. He felt it a thing outside of Life and Time and Place; it was where Nothing was. Up from it drifted all the despair, sorrow, and horror that might haunt the mortal world and its varied creatures over the whole course of Eternity but each moment yielded up a similar crop. What was this strange horror? He looked away in desperation and found himself gazing upon the Mountains, whose rock was indeed alive in all colors of blue and grey and silver. A great light shone from the other side, greater than that of the sun. The very air seemed to tingle with music and joy. Then Garren's eyes fell again upon the pit.

He turned to the bird for some explanation, but He only cocked His head, and then the boy's mind was filled with every wrong he had ever done, every good deed he had neglected to do. All his sins, from the least to the greatest paraded hideously through his mind. Then something else came, strange and unbidden. It was as if it were a memory of a time long past, lost in the ancient days but it was clearer than if he were witnessing it himself. He saw then the full tale he had previously heard and watched in utter horror as the Maker of the Universe was reduced to mere mortality, rejected, brutalized, and then hideously killed by those He had come to save. With a scream of utter despair, the boy could take it no longer and flung himself into that gaping pit, if only to escape the grief and shame he felt at his own part in that grim tale.

The darkness engulfed him utterly and for a moment he felt Alone, as if he were all there was in all of space and time and beyond. His poor soul quailed in despair but then there was a flood of pure Life and Light about him. A great river whose waters were Joy, swept him back to the banks he had just vacated. He lay panting there, his eyes wide with wonder and awe. The guilt, despair, sorrow, horror, and all his little sins had vanished from his mind. All he felt was sheer Joy and Hope and Peace to be in that Presence, and nothing could make him happier than to bask in that Light for all Eternity. But it was not yet to be.

The bird stood there as before, with His head yet cocked and the boy's tremulous smile became a thing of total joy and wonder. He sat up and gazed about him at the utterly changed world. The bird said, "it has always been the same, it is you that are changed. Your eyes have been opened, you can now See."

The Desert was become a rich and rolling land, overflowing with abundance, water, and greenery. Every sort of creature and wonderful things the boy could put no name to frolicked and called about him in this strange place that had the tameness of a garden but all the exuberance of a wilderness. The Rift had become the River of Life whose springs lay deep within the Brightlands beyond the Mountains and whose water was pure Life and Light and Joy. The Mountains looked much the same but even dearer, and what lay beyond called to Garren's heart more deeply than he could say.

The bird sang, "this is Paradise, the home your First Fathers forsook to seek their own way in the world. Mortal men cannot see it as it is, neither can they see the River or taste of its waters without My leave. Beyond the Mountains lies My country, the Brightlands, the home you have ever longed for. But for now, you have other duties that lie on this side of the Mountains."

The boy's thoughts wandered back to the Rift, his terrible guilt, the hope of hiding himself in its depths, the sudden and utter loneliness, and then the Joy of the River. The bird shook His head sadly, "such is the response of many mortals to My call. They had rather fling themselves into the Pit than face My mercy. But you honestly said you were Mine, and that fate belongs to none of My own. For a moment you felt what all those poor rebels will face for all Eternity."

The boy paled and asked, "why must such be their fate?"

He shook His head grimly and said, "such is their choice. They cannot bear My presence or wish not to endure My presence so fling themselves willingly in. It is the one place where I am not and so do they wish it to be. I would have none suffer such an end, but for Love's sake I must allow them to make their own choices, even to their own ruin and My great sorrow."

The boy looked again to the Mountains, and the bird said, "someday when you grow weary of all this you can choose to go thither but for now I ask that you remain upon this side and aid those to whom I shall send you." The boy perked up at this and the bird laughed, "until we meet again, I am ever with you!" He took wing and was soon lost to sight.

The boy sat there for what seemed hours but was only a few moments, just basking in the strange Joy he felt about him. He stood then, not wearily, but with all the vigor of youth and the strength of full manhood. He glanced about himself and wondered what was to come next. The River flowed joyfully by and the denizens of Paradise went about their myriad business but nothing much seemed to be happening else. He gazed again at those towering peaks and wondered what lay on their far side.

"Not yet I hope, lad," came a strong voice full of life and joy and humor, "you yet have much to accomplish I think, ere you set out on that final journey. You can of course go at any moment, but then you cannot return until the Last Day." The boy turned to face his interlocutor and found a smiling man garbed all in white and silver of the finest cloth and cut. He eyed the sword at his side with some interest. He wondered what sort of a sight he must be to this finely clad stranger; he glanced down at himself and discovered that he was arrayed like the man before him. The man waited patiently as the boy rediscovered himself and then said with a chuckle, "it is always strange at first, but come, greater things await."

The boy followed the man silently as they made their way away from the River and deeper into that wild garden. The boy wondered how anyone would choose to leave such a place and dwell in the sad countries to the West. The man laughed deeply and said, "that question troubles us all, but the Master alone knows the answer to that and all things."

The boy shook his head, still too stunned to speak until a thought suddenly crossed his mind, "He said something about no mortal man being able to look upon this place and see it for what it truly was. How then can I see it?"

The man smiled and said, "you are no longer a mortal man."

The boy froze in mid step and gaped, "how? What!"

The man laughed, "relax lad, it will all make sense in time. You need to quit thinking as you previously did and start thinking like a Messenger."

A Messenger? There were strange tales about such men, none good. They were thought to be harbingers of doom or hopeless moralizers, always degrading the joy of common men.

The man continued, "you have probably heard the stories; do not believe them. You ceased to live among mortal men, if such can be called life, so sundered from our Master, the moment you tasted of the River. We can go about among them, aiding them as we are able, but we can no longer dwell among them. We cannot force them to do anything or injure them in any way, we can only guide, instruct, warn, and so forth. The decisions must be theirs. We can however defend them against those servants of the Enemy that are not mortal themselves. These of course can do us injury as we can to them."

Garren froze again with wide eyes, "this is a strange world I have entered!"

The man laughed, "lad, you have seen nothing yet!"

With these words, a great winged stallion came trotting up out of the verdant jungle about them. He whinnied a greeting and just for sheer joy, reared and pawed the air. The man returned the greeting and then glanced around in some surprise. The Pegassi shook his head grimly, "he has Refused!" The man gasped and the boy looked utterly confused.

The man turned to the boy, and said with surprise strong in his voice, "the Pegassi are ever our friends and companions on all the strange quests the Master sets us. But they, like we, have a choice in the matter. Your intended companion refused his Call and has been banished from Paradise, as were our First Fathers." The boy gaped; the Pegassi looked quite grieved that one of his kin would go and do such a thing.

Garren asked, "what happens now?"

The Pegassi shook his head, "that only the Master knows. The poor wretch is likely wandering the mortal world even now, though likely reduced to something akin to a mortal horse, much like that which happened to the fathers of men eons ago. They willingly revolted, but in so doing, lost the better part of themselves. He can yet seek redemption though who knows what will come of it, for it has never yet been done among us!"

The man said to the boy, "the Pegassi are natives of this bright land and the only race that has never, as a whole, turned against its Maker. Thus they do not die or suffer the woes of mortality. They venture forth only in service to their Master or when they have refused His call, they are cast out."

The Pegassi sighed, looking the boy over a bit concernedly, "now what? It is usually the task of his companion to teach him what he must know and get him where he must be."

Suddenly, the three felt themselves driven to their knees by the Presence they all knew and loved more dearly than aught else. The Maker of the Universe strutted before them in guise like a rather ignominious mortal bird ,as He said, "certainly a detriment to My plans but nothing that cannot be worked around. For a time you will go together and then after, we shall see what comes of the matter." And then He was gone, the three shared an overjoyed looked, never seeming to get enough of that Presence.

As they stood, the man said, "we had best be off then. I am called Byorne." He leapt aback the Pegassi and motioned for the boy to do the same. A combination of shyness and an inability to ride made the boy pause and the man laughed, "come lad, you may not think you know how to do something but you will find the skill at need. Let us be off."

The boy laughed nervously and then joyously, as he found he knew exactly what he was about. He leapt upon the great back as if he had been doing it all his life. The Pegassi reared, and with one sweep of his great wings, the world spun about them for a moment and then resolved itself into the great barren plain that Garren had been crossing only that morning. To the eyes of the Messengers and the Pegassi it was still a lovely garden, but they could also see the bleak lands that mortal eyes beheld.

And there in its midst lay a wretched form, unmoving and forgotten. Garren gasped, "Ryan!"

Byorne nodded grimly, "aye, it is your friend. He refused the call of evil but so also did he refuse our Master. He lies now upon the brink of death. He is given one last chance at life but that he may also refuse. We will await you here, no matter the outcome, but he cannot see us unless he agrees to accompany you."

The boy nodded, knowing what he must do. He slid from the Pegassi's back and made his way towards the moribund boy. He glanced down at himself and saw that to mortal eyes, he was clad as he had been that morning ere his conversation with that rather remarkable magpie. He smiled to himself, wondering if he would ever get used to this. He felt a bird alight upon his shoulder and that very magpie said, "expect nothing lad, for you never know what strange things might happen next, but know that I am ever with you!" He chirruped a laugh and winged off.

Garren smiled to himself once more and knelt beside the prone form that lay dying in that barren land. He grasped the boy's shoulder and rolled him onto his back. Ryan's eyes fluttered open at the unexpected touch and he coughed weakly, "Garren? You must be another figment of my imaginings, just like that bird..."

Garren said quietly, "that bird was no vision and neither am I. Are you coming or would you rather lay here until death pounces like an inexorable cat?"

Ryan said bitterly, "what good is it if I die here or elsewhere? How is it you seem fully within your senses?"

Garren grinned, "I suppose it is the River."

Ryan used what little strength he had to sit up, and groaned with the strain, "a river you say? Good! Take me with you! Hope at last."

Garren shook his head, "that River is of no use to you presently. But we can get you back to a place where real water can be found."

Ryan grumbled, "you make no sense! Just get me out of here!"

Garren eased his friend to his feet and they made their stumbling way to where Byorne and the Pegassi waited. Ryan gaped, "a horse! You found a horse!"

Garren frowned and then saw what Ryan was seeing. The Pegassi appeared nothing more than an ordinary horse while Byorne was not visible at all. He grinned and helped his friend into the saddle, saying, "I suppose you could say that."

Garren thought it would be a bit crowded for three aback the poor Pegassi's back but it seemed Ryan could sit exactly where Byorne was sitting and the two, though occupying the same place did not touch one another. Garren shook his head, it must have something to do with the physics of eternity, if there was even such a term! The Pegassi set out at a trot, much too fast for a mortal horse, but Ryan was beyond caring. He fainted, and with his loss of consciousness, the Pegassi used his full speed to convey them back to mortal lands and the water the fading Ryan needed so desperately. Ryan awoke to find Garren splashing water on his face from a stream that flowed nearby.

Byorne approached the boy and said to Garren, though quite imperceptible to Ryan, "you had best accompany your friend for a time. We will return if needed. Farewell." Garren raised a hand in farewell as the pair vanished as suddenly as they had come. He shook his head, wondering if he would ever get used to such things.

Ryan drank greedily and then lapsed again into a much needed doze. Garren made him comfortable in the shade and then thought he had best find the ailing man something to eat. Then a thought occurred to him; he reached into his pocket and pulled forth a peach as fresh as the first morning of the world. He smiled, knowing it was a bit of the produce of Paradise and it would be the perfect thing for the ailing boy's health. How it had stowed itself in his pocket, he dared not ask. He knelt beside Ryan and woke him gently. He started but made no protest at taking the gorgeous peach. The first bite restored his full vigor and by the time he had finished, he was more fit than he had ever been in his entire life.

He stood, stretched, and sighed, "where did you get that divine fruit?"

Garren smiled, "that even I do not know. Now what is to come of us?"

Ryan looked about and said, "where are we?"

Garren shook his head, "somewhere on the Eastern Frontier I would think. The border of the Eastern Desert is not far from here."

Ryan frowned, "where is your horse?"

Garren shrugged, "he must have run off while you were sleeping."

Ryan sighed, "I guess we are afoot again. But what of our future? We cannot go home without being killed."

Garren shook his head, "you are free to go where you will, but I suggest you find someone to tell you of the Great King."

Ryan stared in amazement, "still on about that are you? Has your mythology managed to save your life?"

Garren smiled, "more than you could imagine. But come, where shall we go? I shall follow your lead, if you still wish my company?"

Ryan sighed, "I suppose it beats going it alone but try to avoid any mythical references please? You sound like that strange bird!" Garren smiled warmly at such a compliment.

They walked along silently for a time, due west, as Ryan wanted to be as far from that strange land as mortally possible. Garren felt a strange pang, as of homesickness, wash over him for a moment as his new homeland shrunk with distance but then a new thought brought a smile to his face: no matter where or when he happened to be, the Brightlands were no farther away than a thought. He wondered if he would ever get used to thinking like one outside of Time and Space. Ryan, invigorated by the peach and feeling rather fine, finally broke the silence, for he felt he might burst if he did not talk about something, anything. The two boys did not know each other much beyond their journey together, and they were from such different parts of the world that they had little to talk of initially.

Ryan despised small talk so brought up the only topic he knew for certain they had in common, "how did you survive and then were able to come looking for me?"

Garren thought for a moment, wondering how much he should reveal of his strange encounter, knowing himself unable to lie. Instead, he changed the subject, "what did the bird say to you? Why did you refuse?"

Ryan smirked like one who thought his companion a halfwit but said, "I need none but myself. I will not bow before fell demons or pompous birds!"

Garren said quietly, "then why did you come with me?"

Ryan groused, "you at least are flesh and blood and I doubt in a position to take advantage of my weakened state. I need no superstitions or myths to survive. Now how did you come to find me?"

Garren said boldly, "I went with the Bird. He showed me a River, which saved my life. The horse also appeared after that encounter, though he seems to have vanished just as suddenly. But he allowed me to rescue you."

Ryan stared at his companion, "that was it? That crazy bird gave you something to drink and somehow found you a horse? What a perfect fairy tale! Am I still dreaming upon the brink of death?"

Garren grinned, "I am afraid not; life is often much stranger than our nocturnal ponderings."

Ryan thought quietly for a few minutes and then said, "now what shall we do with our lives? We certainly cannot go home, but the whole rest of the world is open to us. I do not suppose you have any food or money with you? I would not mind another of those peaches!"

Garren slipped his hand into his pocket and found a supply of coins; he tried desperately not to laugh and said, "I seem to have a little coin about me. At least enough to make do for a time. What are your plans?"

"My plans?" frowned Ryan, "You are the one with the money, therefore you should be our fearless leader."

Garren smiled, "I am not much of a leader, but shall be happy to follow wherever you will. Lead on fine sir!" Ryan could not help but catch his companion's humor and laughed as he saw the lights of an inn ahead. Garren grinned, "our prayers have been answered!"

Ryan groused, "if you believe in that sort of thing, I suppose." But his foul mood could not last long with the thought of food and a bed before them when death had been the only future he had expected that morning.

They slipped into the inn, which seemed strangely quiet, but it was still fairly early in the evening yet. They ordered a simple meal and took a seat near the cheerful fire, just enjoying the peace of the place. When their food came, Ryan dug in with a voracious appetite but seemed disappointed, after the quality of the peach, normal mortal fare seemed almost vulgar. Garren grinned at his plate, knowing that he needed no nourishment but to keep up appearances he could eat whenever it was required of him. He wondered if his sense of taste was as changed as his ability to see that which living men could not.

The food tasted as he expected and the magpie appeared on his shoulder, saying cheerfully, "child, some things are still good in this shattered sphere and My servants are still allowed to enjoy them." He vanished as suddenly as He had come, and Garren began to consider such occurrences as the new normal. He enjoyed the meal, as he had not in a very long time, perhaps because its merits were not dimmed by worries, haste, or frets that so often haunted the meals of mortal men. Garren could simply enjoy the food for what it was. Ryan soon finished his own meal, not having seemed to taste it, but simply trying to fill his stomach. They stared at each other blankly for a moment and Garren continued to smile.

Ryan grew irritated with the boy's continued mirth and demanded, "why is it you can be so happy all the time?"

Garren's smile deepened as he said, "is not escaping death reason enough to smile?" Ryan's mood lightened then and he nodded noncommittally. Before another awkward silence could ensue, the door opened and a very unexpected figure entered. He jumped upon sighting the pair at table, as they were equally unexpected.

Garren instinctively reached for his sword, which was not there at the moment. He could not help but smile ruefully at such a maneuver, as he had never handled such a weapon in mortal life but now it felt as if it should be a natural part of him. He gave up his attempt to arm himself and contented himself with studying the newcomer. Tyne seemed equally curious about them. Ryan just gazed in astonishment. Tyne looked the same, except for his eyes, which were cold and dead as the night sky over the Eastern Wastes to mortal eyes. A distinct chill made its way down Garren's spine as Tyne's gaze met his. He was not afraid so much as knowing here stood one of the very minions of darkness Byorne had briefly spoken of.

Tyne might look a living man, save for his eyes, but he was no such creature. He had given himself fully into the Enemy's keeping and though he walked the earth, he was far from at home within its confines. Here was a creature that had willingly entered a living death, whereas Garren had passed beyond death into True Life. Ryan, impervious to legend, took them both for living men, yet they were mortal enemies. No mortal man could injure or destroy such a creature (what exactly Tyne was, Garren as yet did not know), as he was no longer technically alive, yet it was for this task that the Messengers existed. They could either destroy or at least momentarily vanquish such creatures, and thereby allow mortal men to go on with their lives. What powers Tyne had depended greatly upon which type of creature his fell master had allowed him to become. He had bartered his soul for power and something akin to immortality but far closer to slavery.

Garren wondered what his old companion sensed about himself, but for the moment at least he seemed more curious than cautious. He even smiled, or at least tried to, for there was no warmth in the gesture as there was no life in his eyes. Finally he reached their table and sat beside them, mouth agape with wonder, "how is it you two are here?"

Ryan shook his head, "I hardly know myself! The last thing I remember was lapsing into darkness and misery, expecting death, but the next thing I know is Garren rousing me from the inevitable."

Tyne turned his eager eyes upon Garren, "how did you do it?"

Garren shrugged, "I found a River that gave me the strength to help both of us."

Tyne frowned momentarily but then said, "my own story is quite different. That terrible creature, a Dreadlord they call it, bore me to the far West of the world over an equally desperate landscape. Outside the gates leading into the Infernal Realms, the only opening in the range called the Mountains of Night, strange and terrible things befell me and now I have power and influence beyond mortal ken! You two can also partake of the great things I have found!"

Ryan grumbled, "I am no more interested in your fell prince than I was when your precious Dreadlord asked the same question."

Garren asked incredulously of Ryan, "how is it you still do not believe in the powers that rule the world?"

Ryan smiled grimly, "because I choose not to. I need no superstitions."

Tyne frowned, "will you at least consider my offer? Perhaps we can travel together for a time and I may yet convince you?"

Ryan shrugged, "do as you please. I have no destination or plans at the moment. I am heading west simply to get away from the East!"

Tyne smiled coldly (the only smile he could manage), "that is well, for it will bring us closer to my new homeland."

Ryan said warily, "but I thought you said the utter West was as desolate as the East?"

Tyne shrugged, "you can at least see the sun and moon. It is a desert certainly, but one day it shall bloom like fabled Paradise when my master has come into his own. But there is much green country betwixt the two and I shall hope to convince you upon the journey. What of you Garren? You seem not insensible to things beyond mortal imagining?"

Garren said quietly, "I have no wish to serve your master. I am content with what I am. But I shall come with, if only to aid Ryan. I fear you are beyond any aid I could offer."

Tyne laughed darkly, "you would be wise to change your opinions, both of you. But I shall give you time and perhaps upon the way, after seeing some of my gifts, perhaps you too will be eager for such things? If you will not do as I have done, perhaps at least you can find a future in the Blackguard." Ryan perked up a bit at this, being a soldier was something he could probably find a liking for.

Garren asked, "if you have gained all this supposed power, has not your master given you some responsibility or other to go with it?"

Tyne laughed darkly, "my responsibility is precisely this!"

Garren nodded thoughtfully, "you are to recruit people for your Dark Lord's cause."

Tyne nodded enthusiastically. Ryan yawned, eager for a good night's sleep after his trying day. The two beyond mortality simply sat examining each other. Ryan finally stood and made his way out into the night, not liking the idea of sleeping rough but thinking they had not coin enough to spare to waste on a room at an inn on such a fine night. After the desert, the verdant woods on a summer night were almost Paradise. The others followed him out into the dark. Tyne mumbled something about joining them in the morning and vanished down the road. Garren sat watching the night while Ryan slept blissfully nearby. In the pale light of dawn, Tyne appeared once more, this time riding a night black horse and leading five more. Ryan awoke with a start at the sound of so many hooves and smiled to see who held the lead ropes.

Tyne said exuberantly, "behold, the beneficence of the Dark Prince! We shall ride to the other side of the world!"

Garren asked, "what are the extras for?"

Tyne said, "in case we meet other wayward souls upon our way who would also like such a chance."

Garren could only shake his head in wonder at such an idea. But he felt an indescribable need to go on this expedition and dutifully mounted the horse Tyne offered him. He smiled, knowing he could keep apace afoot, but also knowing that such feats might give away his strange new identity. Ryan climbed awkwardly into the saddle, not being used to riding but not refusing such an offer of free transportation away from that wretched Eastern Waste. Perhaps this Dark Prince was not such a bad fellow after all?

They set off at a good clip and Tyne spent the better part of the day extolling the glories of the despotic West and its rebellious lord. As evening came on, Tyne took one of the spare horses and left the rest with Garren and Ryan in their makeshift camp. Ryan ate well out of the saddlebags as Tyne vanished into the night, again on some secret errand. Garren waited until Ryan was asleep and then followed swiftly after Tyne. He could not move as swiftly as a Pegassi, but Time and Space meant very little to a Messenger when he had need of speed. He easily caught up to and kept apace of the trotting horse upon which Tyne rode. Though Tyne rode upon the road and Garren dashed through the forest, the tangled undergrowth did not slow him in the least. It seemed nearly anything in the mortal sphere could become insubstantial if he had need of it to be so.

The magpie appeared in His usual place on the boy's shoulder and said, "you, as a denizen of Eternity, are more substantial and real than anything that exists within the Temporal sphere, as you simply Are and all within Time must exist moment by moment. So it is as a mist to you unless you must interact with it." And then He was gone.

Garren laughed quietly, more and more intrigued by his strange new occupation. Finally, Tyne drew rein in front of an inn and left the sweaty horse in the care of a groom as he went into the common room. Not knowing what he was doing, but knowing he must do it anyway, Garren went around the back of the inn and walked straight into the wall; bouncing off, he landing in a heap on the ground. He glanced around sheepishly, wondering if anyone had noticed.

A stifled laugh sounded behind him, and he saw Byorne and his Pegassi standing there looking vastly amused. Byorne gained control of himself and said, "it takes some getting used to lad, if you can let your heart lead then it comes naturally, but occasionally our former way of thinking tends to interfere. Will yourself through the wall and you should pass through as easily as if it were mist."

Garren asked, "how do I keep from being seen?"

Byorne said, "we have no control over who can and cannot see us. It seems to be a matter of need. While we can at times be invisible to mortals, we cannot hide from the undead minions of evil. Whether we are visible or not, depends on the Master's will at that particular moment, but your vile friend will certainly be able to see you."

"What is he?" asked Garren.

Byorne shook his head distastefully, "your late friend has become a Spy. He can go about as either a crow or a man at need. Mortal weapons cannot harm him. They go around spying on others for their master and recruiting unsuspecting folk into the Vile Prince's service. We can banish them back to their master, who then must decide whether to send them forth once more, banish them to the Rift, or convert them into some other sort of fiend. They can also send us back to the River if they deal us a mortal blow."

"Lovely," said Garren, as he again faced the determined wall. Byorne smiled, raised a hand in farewell, the Pegassi reared, and they vanished.

Garren concentrated and this time succeeded in vanquishing the stubborn wall though it did not seem cognizant of its defeat. He found himself in a dark hallway and felt drawn to the front of the inn. Several inn patrons passed him but seemed oblivious to his presence. He smiled, but knew he must keep himself hidden because Tyne would not likely be so blind. Garren came to the end of the hall that opened on the common room and found a lovely stack of crates behind which he could crouch and be very nearly invisible to Tyne, who sat at the other end of the room at table with a young man about his own age. The boy looked intrigued by whatever it was Tyne was telling him and nodded eagerly. Garren then vanished back the way he had come and returned to camp, knowing they would soon have another member in their party come morning. Tyne returned sometime in the middle of the night with the newcomer nodding before him in the saddle. The boy went straight to sleep, they made a late start to allow him a little rest and also for the sake of the weary horse.

Ryan asked over breakfast, as the new boy slept, "who is your friend?"

Tyne shrugged, "just another weary wanderer. He set out from home looking for adventure and I have promised it to him once we reach the Utter West. I hope you two will also make such a wise decision once we reach our destination."

Ryan could only shake his head, "is everyone in this wretched party some sort of fanatic?"

Finally the boy, whose name was Kile, felt rested enough that they could continue on their way. He was a talkative fellow and also quite excited to hear what Tyne had to say about the wonders of their destination. Tyne rode beside Ryan for a time, hoping to convince the skeptic of the glories that were sure to be his while Garren rode beside the exuberant boy.

Kile exclaimed, "is it really true?! This is so exciting! I am about to have an adventure and become a hero and everything I have ever dreamed about. Are you going to that fabulous land too?"

Garren smiled at the boy's enthusiasm but it saddened him greatly to hear the boy so excited over evil. He said quietly, "what do you know of the Dark Prince who rules with an iron fist all the Utter West of the world?"

Kile's exuberance failed him for a moment as he said, "what do you mean? I thought we were to be heroes?"

Garren shook his head grimly, "there is nothing but death and evil and worse in that vile land; all the servants of that Hideous King are nothing but miserable slaves though they have all the power of the universe at their command. One cannot be a hero while serving an evil lord. Have you never seen the Blackguard? Or worse, one of the fabled fell minions of the Enemy whom mortal blade cannot touch?"

Kile was dangerously quiet as he said, "is it all so dark and drear? There were rumors of the Blackguard having passed through the next village over and the stories were terrible, though my mother tried to hide most of them from my young ears. What of all the glories Tyne has extolled upon?"

Garren shook his head, "there is no glory, save an ugly perversion of it, in that dark land. If you want glory, you must seek it from the source, but you cannot claim it for your own, but we may reflect radiantly the glory of the Great King if we choose to serve Him faithfully."

Kile's eyes were large now, "but who do I believe? My mother often talked about this King and that is one reason I set out: to find Him. He is not to be found in the West?"

Garren smiled, "He can be found by anyone who looks diligently but no, in the West dwells that Grim Lord. The King's Brightlands are beyond the Mountains in the East, but no mortal may reach them without His leave. Serve Him faithfully and have no fear of that."

Kile asked, "how is it you ride with such a fellow if his master is truly as dreadful as you say?"

Garren said quietly, "for the sakes of such as yourself and Ryan do I keep such strange company. The Master would not have Tyne's be the only opinion given on the subject. Listen carefully, weigh all that is said and witnessed in your heart, and decide whom you will serve."

Kile asked, "must I choose one or the other?"

Garren replied, "you may serve yourself certainly, like Ryan, but inevitably you end up serving the Dark One regardless. If you serve not the King, you belong to the Dark." Kile shivered and Garren said, "you might want to keep these things to yourself or at least not discuss them with Tyne." The boy nodded and allowed his horse to fall behind the others that he might think about all that had been said in this most intriguing of days.

They stopped for lunch and to breathe the horses. Kile and Ryan talked quietly together while Tyne drew Garren off to a quiet place to speak. Tyne asked, "are you then such a skeptic as Ryan? I have greater hopes for you than he. You at least seem interested in things beyond mortal ken."

Garren said, "I believe in your vile master but know also that never can I serve such as he. I also believe in the Great King."

"And will you serve the latter?" snarled Tyne, "Would you be a slave to a powerless recluse beyond the Eastern Mountains, who cares nothing for the plight of mortal men?"

Garren smiled, "that would be an adequate description of your master, were it only the Western Mountains and that he only cares about mortal men when he can destroy them or cause them grief. I will serve whom I will."

Tyne threatened, "you will rue the day you choose against my master. Disbelief I can abide patiently, but open rebellion will be punished surely and swiftly."

Garren could only smile insolently at such a threat, "we shall see on that day, I suppose."

Tyne withdrew in a bitter mood and found Ryan and Kile sitting quietly and thoughtfully together. "Mount up," he ordered, and the little party rode off.

Three more days passed with little of interest occurring save that Tyne preached endlessly about the glories of serving the Dark One, and on the evening of the fourth day they came across another young man upon the road. He had left his penniless mother and six siblings to find his future upon the road. Trap gladly joined up with the troop, simply for the chance to ride and for a share of the food, of which he had not tasted in three days.

Trap and Kile were soon fast friends, both being young, alone, and adventurous. Tyne wasted no time in telling the boy all he had been telling the others. Trap listened quietly, neither with Kile's enthusiasm nor Ryan's disdain. They had made camp where they had met Trap upon the road, and after listening to Tyne all evening, all three of the boys were soon asleep, dreaming of the uncertain future before them.

Tyne said quietly to Garren, "I must be off once more. Do nothing foolish while I am gone."

Garren nodded and Tyne vanished into the night. Garren felt no urge to follow this time, knowing full well the Spy's errand. He had one more youth to lure into their company with false promises galore. Morning came, as it always seems to, yet Tyne had not returned. The three boys had awakened and made preparations to leave and still Tyne tarried. Finally, as they were about to despair, he returned upon a very tired horse.

He said, "we shall rest here for a day and another friend shall soon be joining us. There is no use killing horses when our journey is a leisurely one. We shall pass the day in learning what awaits in the West!" The three boys rolled their eyes, not wishing to hear again what they had heard every day of their presence in the company but they dutifully unpacked the horses and listened as Tyne prattled on for the rest of the day.

Morning found everyone physically rested (at least the four that required physical rest) but mentally nervous as they set out towards the sunset with the energetic and persistent Tyne at their head. Morgan, their last member, was rather a silent fellow, quick to listen but slow to speak. None knew why he was on the road but he soon learned everyone else's story. A week passed and they traveled steadily west through the heart of the Midlands, the center of human civilization. As they traveled, Tyne continually courted others upon their path but none seemed eager to join the strange procession. Of course, six mounted men not belonging to any particular outfit of soldiers drew plenty of attention. One night as they drew rein and were beginning to set up camp, a half dozen of the Blackguard rode into their midst.

Their captain said in a jarring voice, "who might you be? Up to no good I am sure."

Tyne stood forth, not about to have his grand schemes interfered with, even by a soldier supposedly serving the same master. "What do you want fool?" demanded Tyne of the intruder.

All the soldiers had their swords out and their horses pranced in anticipation of battle, but the captain raised his hand to quiet his men, "I am the one who is demanding answers, boy!" Tyne smiled darkly and a chill ran down the spines of all present, as the horses whinnied in fear. The captain's voice took on a tremor of fear, "who are you?"

Tyne said in a voice heavy with menace, "you would dare interfere in my business, mortal?"

Said the now trembling captain, "I am charged with keeping the Dark Prince's peace. It is my business to know who rides within the confines of the territory we are assigned to patrol. It would be my head if a party belonging to the Whiteguard managed to pass unhindered."

Tyne snarled, "do I look like the thrice-cursed Whiteguard? I too ride for his Dark Majesty but unlike you fool, I have seen him personally."

The captain's skin took on the pallor of a corpse in his terror, as he said, "can you prove it?"

Tyne laughed harshly, though it sounded more a crow's cackle, but he said, "run me through with your sword, fool."

The captain could hardly hold the weapon steady but he dared not defy such an order, though it made no sense to him. All gasped as the blade pierced Tyne's heart and was withdrawn without the boy so much as flinching, let alone falling over dead. The captain said in utter terror, "I apologize for interfering sir and beg your leave to withdraw!"

Tyne laughed uproariously though there was no warmth in it, "be gone fool!" The entire troop harshly spurred their horses and vanished into the night. Tyne returned to his trembling party and said, "that is only one of the many things my master can give you if you will only serve him!"

The four boys exchanged an eager and horrified look. Sleep was long in coming for all that night. For a week after the incident, the boys' interest in their leader was intensified but so too was their wariness. Who was this strange boy and could they trust his words? Garren continued to speak quietly with each of them as the opportunity presented itself, but he desperately wished someone more knowledgeable and skilled in such matters might also get the chance to do so. His wish was granted that very night as an old man with a great bushy beard wandered into their camp and sat beside their fire. All eyed the stranger with interest, save Tyne, who wore a derisive sneer.

"Who are you?" demanded the outspoken youth, "This is a private party unless you have some dream of traveling into the Utter West?"

The old man laughed and said, "now that would be foolishness indeed! Who would dare go there? But I can tell you what lies in the Utter East if you are willing to listen?"

Tyne was on his feet and clutching at his sword, "be gone old man before it goes ill with you! Know I am a servant of the Dark One and will not abide heresy in my presence."

The old man remained seated but laughed greatly as he said, "your grim master is the ultimate heretic so sit down boy and listen well to what I must say."

Tyne was about ready to fall upon the man with his sword when Garren put a restraining hand on Tyne's own, saying, "what can this old man's words do? Let the boys listen and make up their own minds; they may even be more fully convinced of your own words after they have heard the other half of the story. Only knowing one side makes them wary and suspicious."

Tyne growled, "I suppose you are right but the fool had best not make any trouble." The man gave Garren a grateful look and wasted no more time before breaking into a wondrous tale of the Great King and His wanderings among mortal men.

The boys were spellbound, even the skeptical Ryan found himself listening with great interest and asking many questions. Finally the old man stood, stretched, and yawned saying, "that was a night well spent lads. Now you know the truth of the matter and can decide what then shall be your fate once you reach the Utter West, if that is still your intention." He vanished quickly into the darkest hour of the night as the boys gathered together and began speaking eagerly about what they had just heard. Tyne chivied them off to bed, though none slept much with all the wonderful and wild thoughts running through their minds. Tyne then vanished into the night after the stranger, meaning him no good. Garren was not long in following.

Tyne was hard upon the old man's trail when suddenly a nearly blinding light appeared in his path; he was driven to his knees with his arm covering his eyes in pain. "Leave him be," came a voice stern and strong, "go back to your camp or I will send you back to your fell master."

Tyne snarled, but could not argue with such a presence, it had to be one of those vile Messengers he had been warned to be wary of. He could try to fight the creature but if he lost, it would ruin all his schemes without gaining anything. He crept back to the little clearing like a whipped dog and spent the rest of the night sulking. The moment Tyne vanished from sight, the brilliance about Garren subsided and he dashed back to the camp faster than sight, that he might not be missed when Tyne returned. He smiled to himself as he rolled over in his blankets and pretended to sleep.

Things were not looking good for Tyne's aspirations as the weeks wore away and they finally reached the other side of the world. Ryan was still skeptical, Morgan said nothing, Kile was thoughtful and quiet (certainly a bad sign), and Trap seemed uneasy; Garren continued his good natured indifference to everything Tyne had to say about his dark master. Tyne smiled to himself, perhaps they might not come willingly after all his most convincing arguments but upon the borders of the Wasted Lands, there were likely to be patrols of the Blackguard and far worse. If argument could not convince them then fear certainly would. Finally they emerged from the forested Midlands and looked upon the Scorched Lands of the West; the Mountains of Night towered grim and ugly in the distance.

The land was all of red rock that baked by day and froze by night. The sun was a heavy red disc that lowered in the heavens and the moon was pallid and watery each night, as if it were a reflection of itself in a disturbed pool. The four boys looked upon that land with dread and trembling. Ryan thought that the Eastern Desert looked a paradise by comparison. Garren felt his heart mourn for what he knew had once been a happy mortal land, until his Dread Majesty had taken up residence beyond the Mountains. This was a land that was not happy even to one who could see beyond time. Nothing dwelt here save the servants of the Evil One. They followed a road that wound between the Seared Lands and the Midlands, running north until it came to the very gates of the Infernal Realm, which lay beyond the Mountains. Garren was restless in his saddle, knowing that at any moment some fell servant of the Enemy might fall upon them.

But they were soon confronted by someone totally unexpected. Two plainly clad men on equally drab horses met them heading south upon the road. Garren smiled, he could see the Messengers and Pegassi hidden beneath the benign visage. Tyne seemed to sense something of the same as he snarled, "be gone fools! We are upon important business and will not be impeded by the likes of you!"

One of the men said, "stand aside, fell servant of evil! We will speak to your companions ere they doom their souls through fear, greed, or indifference." Tyne reached for his sword, but the two men reached for their own, and he soon thought better of it, considering the odds. All he could do was mutter darkly and hope reinforcements came before all was lost.

"Now lads," spoke the other man, "only death and despair wait ahead. Turn back ere it is too late. None may cross that fell border unwillingly but fear has a way of convincing even the stoutest heart."

Kile rode boldly forward and said, "but I want to have an adventure. I do not really trust this Dark Lord but at least it is a chance at excitement."

The men exchanged an amused look and one said, "then perhaps you would seek a less vile path that is no less riddled with danger, but at whose end lies purpose and adventures greater than mortal hearts dream?"

Trap rode forward and said, "that sounds a better idea than following this madman to a bitter end. How do we find such a road?" The two men exchanged a smile and both looked East. The boys followed their gaze as a previously unseen path suddenly materialized before them. Kile and Trap exchanged a smile and urged their horses down this new road.

"Anyone else wish to try this path?" asked one of the men.

Tyne snarled, "fools! That can lead to nothing but death!"

All remained silent and the path vanished from sight. Garren gazed in wonder, for it was not there at all, even to his strange sight. Morgan was restless and Ryan looked uninterestedly off into the distance. Tyne was fuming with rage, would these meddlers not leave well enough alone? Said one of the strangers, "are the rest of you so despairing of your own lives that you would follow this boy blindly to your doom?"

Morgan could contain himself no longer, "I do not wish to go thither but neither do I wish to follow that strange path of yours."

One of the men rode forward and said, "I shall bear you wherever your heart desires as long as it be away from here!"

Morgan nodded eagerly and slid into the saddle before the man. Tyne reached for his sword but before he had it out of the sheath, the horse had turned and vanished faster than thought. Tyne finished drawing his sword and threatened the last remaining stranger, who said, "you wish to remain?" Ryan shrugged, Garren smiled contentedly, and Tyne glowered. The stranger nodded once, and said before vanishing as well, "then I must leave you to your choice."

Tyne sighed, "I thought they would never leave! All my effort has come to naught!" He glared at his two remaining companions and growled, "you two had best not try anything foolish." They both shrugged and all three continued upon their way.

Garren said quietly to Ryan as they rode, "why did you not go?"

Ryan sighed, "because I do not need the help of other people, especially that sort of help! Anything could be waiting upon that path and who knows where that man took Morgan?"

Garren said grimly, "anything would be better than the road we currently take."

Ryan said crossly, "then why did you not go with the others?"

Garren smiled simply, "because you did not and I wish to remain with you for now."

Ryan smiled weakly, "thanks, I think. You are a strange companion but I appreciate the sentiment."

Tyne fell back and rode between them, saying, "we will spend the night in a village called Fenwith, which contains a garrison of the Blackguard and sits outside the gates of the Infernal Realm. Tonight I shall show you what awaits you tomorrow should you choose not to serve my master, either in the Blackguard or in a more interesting fashion." Ryan shivered and Garren nodded grimly as Tyne rode forward laughing darkly.

Ryan whispered in dread, "perhaps I should have gone with the others."

As evening was closing in, they stopped outside a shabby inn on the outskirts of the village where Tyne procured a dismal room for them, then they proceeded on the dreadful tour he had proposed. Ryan's alarm grew each moment as he saw he was completely surrounded by the allies of darkness. He had never seen such a mix of scoundrels, drunks, and villains as the village seemed to boast. In fact, he could not remember seeing a smiling or laughing face in all that dreary town, save of the more vile sort. Every face was one of despair, villainy, or bore a scowl.

They rode past the garrison, which was swarming with soldiers of the Blackguard and various of their members also crowded the streets. Here and there the vile crowds parted for some dark figure, which Ryan assumed to be some senior servant of the Dark One, which caused even more chills to race down his spine. They rode out of town and sat their horses upon a hill overlooking a terrible gate that opened in the dead rock of the Mountains and through which passed only those same dark figures Ryan had previously noticed. Next to it, growing out of the very rock, stood some sort of miserable fortress, which Tyne described as their future home should they refuse his master's most gracious invitation.

Said he, "you may dwell upon that thought this night and on the morrow you must come to a decision. Do not bother trying to flee, for you will be quickly pursued and destroyed. Of course, if you choose to reside in the Fenwith Prison, your stay will be long and gruesome, as shall your demise. Choose carefully my friends!" He laughed horribly and led them back to their inn and saw that they were tucked carefully into their room and then vanished upon errands of his own, little fearing that they would be able to get up to any mischief in such a bastion of evil.

Once they were alone, Ryan mourned, "I wish I had gone with the others, no matter the end! Is there no hope?"

Garren said quietly, "I might be able to get us out of here but if not, you might be killed in the process."

Ryan said stoutly, "better to die in an attempt to escape than slowly by their hands. I know I do not want what they offer, neither can I get out of this on my own."

Garren said, "will you not reconsider the Master's offer of redemption? If you die tonight you will regret it for all eternity!"

Ryan shook his head grimly, "I trust your precious King as little as I trust this Dread Lord. Just get me out of here and forget about my wretched soul!"

Garren gave him a plaintive look but said simply, "I shall go out and see what I can find to aid our escape. You might want to use this time to consider things from an Eternal perspective." Ryan gave him a patient look and he dashed from the room.

No one seemed to care that he was out and about, apparently as he was not trying to escape he could do as he pleased. He wandered about the town, skirting the more vile servants of the Evil One lest they somehow discover his true nature. He felt drawn to the edge of town closest to the gates and the grim prison, and found himself amidst the garrison's horses. There was pen after pen of spare horses, those being trained, and those waiting to leave with the next patrol. Garren leaned heavily upon the thick boards composing a small circular pen in the middle of which stood a great oaken pole that seemed rooted to the very foundations of the earth. To it was cruelly tied such a horse as no mortal has ever seen, at least he would have been such a sight were he not exhausted and beaten half to death and nearly every inch of him was obscured by the ropes that bound him head and foot. An evil light played in his eyes, as if he dared anyone to come within reach of teeth or hooves.

"That beast is a monster," said a dirty man standing beside Garren with the look and smell of some sort of groom or horseman, "he's killed five men and injured several others. But we'll either break him or kill him in the process."

Garren asked agape, "why keep such a creature around if he is so terrible?"

The groom shrugged and said, "orders. The Wraiths and Dreadlords are all excited about the brute. They say he ain't a normal beast and will not be satisfied until he is broken or destroyed. They say he was captured out East somewhere and it took all the magic a Wraith possessed to bring him into their possession. Since he's been here, he fights like he knows there is no hope yet is determined to take as many men with him as he can."

Garren grinned, "could I try?"

The man scoffed, "you? What are you, suicidal?"

Garren shrugged, "just extremely curious."

The man shook his head, "have at it but it is your head not mine."

Garren crawled over the gate and into the pen. The horse watched him intently with his wicked eyes. The groom watched with a mocking smile on his face, thinking the boy an absolute lunatic but anticipating a little excitement, he watched closely. Garren crept as close as he could without risking a kick, though bound as he was, the horse still made a valiant effort.

Then said the boy in a language he did not know he knew, "would you be free of this place? Answer me not but listen closely for tonight you must make a decision. My friend and I stand in need of rescue, so it seems do you. We all three must flee this night together or all is lost. I know you consider it beneath your dignity to carry the children of men, but only your swiftness can save us from imminent doom. Only I can loose you that you have a chance to flee ere they beat you to death. If I loose you, will you carry us far from this place? After, you may go where and as you will. You must also know that your rightful Master shall take you back, if you will return to Him."

The horse's ears had been laid flat back but had perked up at the sound of his native tongue but how a man child had come to know it and even to know that he could understand it perplexed him deeply. Said the horse quietly, "it is certainly beneath my dignity. What if we are killed?"

Garren said just as quietly, "it is better to die in the attempt than wait for them to inflict it at their leisure. Return to your Master and you have nothing to fear, even in death."

The horse grumbled, "my noble race should neither have to die nor to carry such parasites as you upon our backs but such is my fate. I will do as you ask. When?"

The boy asked, "when would you advise? It must be tonight, but I am a stranger here and know nothing of this place."

The horse said quietly, "just before dawn I think. The night watch will be tired and the morning rounds will not have started, that and the growing day will aid our flight as these servants of evil dislike daylight, even the benighted light that passes for such in this place."

Garren nodded, "I shall be here promptly before dawn."

The horse snorted indignantly, "to think I am trusting my fate to such a scamp of a child but I have no other choice."

Garren smiled and raced back to the surround where the disappointed groom yet sat. Garren said, "he seems a bit too much for me to handle at the moment. Perhaps another time?"

The man shook his head and returned to his chores. The boy raced back to the seedy inn to inform Ryan of their plans. He was not as excited as Garren was. Ryan said incredulously, "you want to loose a killer horse and hope he carries us unseen, far beyond the borders of this place? You are mad!"

Garren said, "do you have a better plan?" Ryan sighed and shook his head. Garren smiled excitedly and said, "then you had best get some rest for we are leaving in a few hours." Ryan tried to sleep but it would not come. Garren waited patiently for the set time and as it approached, he said, "wait here another fifteen minutes and then come to the horse yards on the western edge of town. We shall await you there."

He dashed from the room and easily made his way through town without drawing attention, for no one was about at that hour or if they were, they were half asleep or drunk beyond their senses. Garren had confiscated Ryan's knife, the same he had been given on their day of exile, and made excellent progress with the ropes, though they were thick and numerous. He smiled, it seemed even his strength and dexterity were beyond normal when needed. The horse stood as still as the earth and listened intently for any sign that they had been discovered. They both froze as the sound of quiet feet and someone climbing the fence came to their ears. They relaxed when they discovered it to be Ryan, precisely on time. He stared incredulously at the horse, who flicked his tail in grim amusement. The last bit of rope was cut free and the horse stretched and silently began moving his knotted and cramped muscles.

Garren said, "we have little time."

The horse nodded grimly and said, "I suppose I had best keep up my end of the bargain. Get on!"

They crawled awkwardly onto his back and he easily cleared the fence and was off like an arrow from the string. Once out of town, the horse said to Garren, "I can outrun any mortal foe but what about the Dreadlords, Fellhounds, Wraiths, and all such creatures?"

Garren said grimly, "we shall deal with them as we must."

The horse could only sigh and keep running as fast as his weary and battered limbs could move. His pace was that of a normal horse's gallop but had he been in prime condition it would have been thrice as fast. "How did you know I was no ordinary horse and how do you speak my native tongue?" panted the horse as he ran.

Garren replied, "the groom I spoke to said as much and how I come to know your language, that even I do not know."

Ryan groused, "what are you saying to this brute?"

Garren smiled, "just a little small talk."

Ryan sighed, "as long as it keeps him from throwing us I guess I must be content. This is insane!"

Garren replied, "it certainly beats the alternative."

Ryan laughed bitterly, "at last! You are finally speaking sense."

Their conversation was interrupted by a terrible howl that floated on the wind. "Fellhound!" screamed the horse, "We are certainly doomed!" A sudden rush of wind and two swiftly moving blurs passed them on either side and the awful hound soon whined in despair.

"What was that?" gasped Ryan.

The horse groused, but kept running, "I would have rather faced the Hound!"

Garren could only shake his head at the latter and answered the former, "salvation! Are you ready to admit that there might be more to the powers that move the world than you are willing to believe?"

Ryan frowned in irritation and remained silent. A great raven swooped out of the sky, nearly tearing at their ears, and landed before them, stopping their mad dash. The bird resolved itself into Tyne, who stood before them, afire with rage and ready to do unspeakable things. He snarled, "I warned you and now you shall rue this foolishness for many weeks to come and then you shall cease to be!" The horse reared, nearly unseating his riders.

Garren whispered, "a Spy."

The horse whinnied in delight and resumed his flight, knowing this particular breed of the Enemy's servants could do little to stop them, save physically attack them, but he would have to catch them first. Tyne resumed his avian visage and followed after, desperate to take his quarry lest he face his master in his inexorable wrath. He shivered at the thought. The horse reared again, this time in true fear, for the two strangers from the previous day sat their mounts patiently in their path. Erian was loath to meet his kin again, especially in such a state and carrying such riders, but he could not outrun them and he did owe them his life at least.

He hung his head in bitter sorrow, leaving his riders to deal with the strangers as they would. Maybe they would convince them to go away. "Are you ready to try an alternative Road?" asked one of the men of the strange little duo.

Ryan gasped, "at this point I am willing to do about anything to escape the terrors behind us."

Tyne swooped in and began to demand justice, but one of the men drew his sword and the Spy retreated as suddenly as he had come, doubtless seeking reinforcements. Said the other, "you have little time until you are again overtaken by the forces of evil. You must either stand and fight or fly, and in either case the end is the same. Else you can take the Road and see what lies upon it."

Erian's head came up and his eyes were wild with fright, "it cannot be so!"

Said the first, "it must be so if you have any desire of returning to your Master. Else you will die here and face the utter dark for all eternity." The Pegassi hung his head in despair and nodded sullenly.

Ryan gaped and said, "I guess any choice is better than death."

Said the second, "death and danger will pursue your steps upon the Road as well, but at least there is some hope. And at its end True Life awaits. Heed well the words of your friend. Farewell."

The pair vanished, leaving the trio to gape at the strange path that now lay before them. The wail of a Fellhound sounded behind them and the horse needed no more urging to set forth upon the Road. As he did so, the world shifted about them and their pursuing foes were lost with time or distance or both. Ryan said in awe as the horse stopped and both of the boys slid from his back, "what just happened?"

The late Pegassi spoke, and much to everyone's surprise, it was in the mortal tongue so that all could understand, "we stand upon the Road my friends. It is a strange path and many odd tales are told in the legends of men, but none know the full tale. Its way cannot be mapped or traced or remembered for it wends where and when it will. It is outside of time and space unless there is a need for it to be at a certain place and time. The fell minions of the dark cannot set foot upon it though sometimes it shifts so that its weary travelers encounter such on occasion."

Ryan gaped, "you can talk?"

The former Pegassi snorted in derision, "certainly, I am no dumb beast and am certainly more learned than the pair of you combined. Now listen as I finish my tale and then you may ask foolish questions." Erian continued, "any mortal man who wishes to travel upon it may do so, assuming they have never done so before and forsaken the way. At its end is said to lie something quite amazing for those faithful to the Master. To those who doubt or disbelieve, it is a very dangerous path. Upon it may be found death, all manner of sinister traps and spells, and who knows what country one might wind up in if one forsakes the path? Once upon it, you may forsake it at will but if you turn back or refuse to go forward or leave the path, you cannot find it again."

Ryan sat heavily upon the grass, "this is some trick of the so-called Great King? It seems a better prospect than what the Enemy had to offer but it still seems very strange to me. You say there is a great treasure at the end of this Road?"

Erian nodded, "the greatest any mortal man can seek but ware, to him who attempts the Road with an unbelieving heart."

Ryan groused, "then what am I to do?"

Garren smiled, "either leave the path right now and find yourself in whatever time and place we currently inhabit or finally put your trust in the Master and take the Road to find what waits at its end."

Ryan sighed, "what will I find if I forsake the path?"

Garren replied, "that I cannot say but you should be far from those who pursue us. But you still face eternal darkness if you yet refuse to seek the King."

Ryan shook his head, "then I shall take my chances, if only to escape your endless preaching!" He stepped off the path and vanished from sight. Garren looked sadly after his companion and wondered what would come of him.

Asked the horse, "have you ever taken this path?"

Garren stood and said, "no, why?"

The horse shook his head and replied, "I was just wondering. Do you wish to pursue it?"

Garren shrugged, "that depends upon you. What of that which our rescuers spoke?"

The Pegassi shook his head in indignation, "I am a traitor and rebel to my Master and my people. It seems if I am to find my place again I must follow this Road, which is usually reserved for mortal men!"

Garren said quietly, "I will come with you if you so desire?"

The horse gave him a mystified look and said, "I would like that if you do not mind?"

Garren grinned, "not in the least!"

The horse then took the opportunity to refresh himself in a nearby stream and crop some of the lovely grass that grew in this beautiful place. He turned to the boy, "how are you to survive without the ability to eat grass? A rather pitiful shortcoming of your race I am sad to say."

Garren laughed, "I shall manage quite well I am sure, but you cannot call the lack of a habit that has never been native to my race a shortcoming when the Master Himself made us so."

The horse laughed then, starting to recover his humor after his banishment, captivity, and confrontation with members of his own race. They set out again, side by side and the horse asked, "do you want to ride?"

The boy said, "only if you feel that I should."

The horse whinnied a laugh, "if you are kind enough to come with me, I suppose the least I can do is offer you a ride."

Garren smiled, "so you have come to terms with the Master?"

The horse glanced back over his shoulder at the boy upon his back, "I was a proud fool and have suffered greatly for my arrogance. Seeing my own people again was mortifying and worse than any fate the Enemy could have inflicted upon me and yet one day I must also face my Master again, which must be infinitely worse. I was wrong and I shall seek Him again, it will be hard but nothing compared to the dreadfulness of the alternative. Facing my own people in their disappointment is bad enough, I cannot imagine the Master in His if I fail to seek His forgiveness. What of you?"

Garren smiled, "I think I can safely say I am firmly in His keeping."

The horse smiled, "then you shall see greater things once we reach journey's end."

"I have seen many strange things already," said Garren amusedly.

The horse shook his head in mirth, "you have only seen the strange things of the Enemy. The King has many more wondrous things to show His own. For a time I thought that perhaps...well no...it cannot be, if you have never wandered this path before."

"What?" asked Garren, with a knowing smile.

The horse shook his head, "nothing. What know you of the Road?"

Garren shook his head, "only what you have told me."

The horse nodded proudly, "then you have a very good start. Upon it we will be sorely tested to see if the King is our utmost goal and desire or whether something else has primacy in our souls. Even if we are faithful, we might be killed along the way."

"Then what?" asked Garren curiously.

The horse shrugged, "then we must face whatever it is that awaits mortals after death. I should not even be contemplating such an idea! None of my race has ever died before!"

Garren said quietly, "as long as it is in the Master's keeping, what have we to fear?" Erian had no time to reply, for before them appeared two boys upon tired horses. Garren smiled to recognize Kile and Trap; their eyes were wide but they grinned broadly to see their old companion. "They are old acquaintances," said Garren quietly to Erian in his own tongue. The horse nodded and pretended to be no more than the dumb beast he appeared. Garren asked of the two, "how goes your journey?"

Kile said, "it seems we have been riding forever." He then detailed a whole list of evil creatures they had avoided, dire temptations overcome, and various tediums and deprivations endured. They asked after Garren's tale and he told all he could, leaving out the peculiar habits of his current mount.

Trap sighed, "it is good to have another companion. Think you that we have nearly come to the end of this odd Road?"

Garren shook his head, "I doubt we are allowed to continue on together indefinitely and for my part, we have just arrived upon this Way."

Kile sighed, "I do not want to go on alone."

"Ah, but you must," said a peculiar voice high above their heads. They glanced up and up and up and finally came to the glowing eyes of a dragon so high above them that they seemed but twinkling specks in the rising shades of evening.

Kile asked unafraid, having assumed that if the beast meant to eat them he would have been about it already, "why is it we must part sir?"

The creature said with a sigh, "for we must know that you continue on because of your own faithfulness and not because you have leant upon the courage of another. All four of you must now part ways."

Trap gave him an odd look, "all four of us?"

The dragon cocked his head in amusement and said, "those so affected shall know of that which I speak. Now off with you, one at a time if you will." Kile shrugged, said his farewells to Trap, and turned his horse down the Road.

Trap gasped, "will we not overtake him?"

The dragon laughed, "it is the nature of the Road that one may not overtake another without plan or purpose. Go on, lad." He sighed, cast longing eyes at Garren, and then continued down the way, soon lost to sight. "Now you are a strange pair," said the dragon, "but you must go it alone as well."

Erian blew out his nostrils and laid his ears back, "to think that one of my lineage must even take such a Road, but so it is." He looked at the boy sadly as he slid from his back, saying, "I do not particularly like humans but you are not so bad. Perhaps we will meet once more when all is finished?"

Garren smiled, "I would like that. Fare you well!" And soon he was lost to sight.

The dragon stared down at the boy, "and you?"

Garren laughed, "I am not sure my taking this path would accomplish very much."

The dragon yawned and said, "suit yourself." He took wing and was soon lost to sight.

The Road shifted around the lonely boy and suddenly even it had abandoned him. He found himself in a night dark wood with only the fitful glow of a distant fire to liven up the dark, but the boy's strange eyes had no trouble seeing in even the utter dark. He crept along an unseen path through the tangle of low growing bushes and vines, wondering who it was that camped in the dell below.

Suddenly he felt a sword at his throat and a harsh voice challenging, "who goes?"

Garren raised his hands and said, "just a lost wanderer, alone in the night."

The voice laughed coldly, "this is a strange place and time to be lost and wandering. You will come with me, resistance will be dealt with lethally."

The boy sighed and allowed himself to be bound by the sentry and escorted deeper into the slumbering camp. His captor sought out and soon found the captain of the band, who was not at all pleased to be wakened at such an hour but news of a captive soon changed his mood. He paced before the boy with his senior officers looking on as the sentry returned to his post. Said the captain, "have you any idea who we are?"

Garren smiled, "none sir."

The man gaped, "then what are you doing in the middle of this tangled wood at such a place and time?"

The boy laughed, "that I would dearly love to know. The Road shifted and here is where I find myself."

The captain froze in mid-stride and gave the boy a surprised look, "the Road? Do you speak truly lad? No servant of evil can ride that way yet you say you fell off of it?"

Garren laughed brightly, "nay lord, the Road left me! It wends as it will and it had no more will for me so here it left me."

The man sat down, "I know little enough of that strange way but this is the wildest tale I have yet heard. Can you prove you are no servant of the Enemy?"

Garren shrugged, "that would depend on what proof you desire."

The man shook his head, "we can at least prove if you are a man. No servant of the Enemy will bleed red." Garren grew uncomfortable, knowing that neither would he bleed if struck.

Said the Second, "Sir, this boy is no undead minion of evil so I do not think there is any need for that. There is true mirth in his laughter and joy in his eyes; neither is he slimy, wheedling, or fuming with malice as such creatures are."

The captain nodded, "thank you Mandrake, I see that now. But he might yet be a living servant of the Dark. How to prove that he is not?"

"Pardon sir," came the tremulous voice of a young man about Garren's age, "but I think I can attest to that." Morgan stepped into the waning firelight and Garren nodded and smiled in greeting.

"As can I," said an aged voice, belonging to the wandering storyteller who had visited Tyne's camp what seemed eons ago.

The captain laughed, "well, it seems we have witnesses enough. What does the rest of the camp say?" There were many nods of consent and Garren soon found himself loose. The captain said quietly as he was freed, "mind you watch yourself boy, for the watch of the Whitegaurd against evil never sleeps. You may ride with us for a time if you are of a friendly persuasion but after awhile we may ask you to aid us in our quest."

Garren smiled, "I will aid you however you wish sir, but you must know I am completely useless when it comes to fighting men."

The captain laughed, "if that is all, then we can soon teach you to be otherwise."

Garren shook his head in amusement at the captain's misunderstanding but soon was left to speak to his old acquaintances. Morgan was nearly wild with joy at a familiar face and wondering what had come of his old companions. The storyteller or Wanderer as they preferred to be called, greeted him warmly and listened quietly to the tale. After, Garren asked after Morgan's wanderings.

The boy shrugged, "that strange rider set me down not far from here and soon this band of soldiers came along. Their purpose sounded one akin to my own and soon I found myself joining up. Are you going to sign up too?"

Garren shrugged, "who knows what my future holds! As I said, I am completely useless against mortal men." Morgan laughed and regaled him with all the things he had since learned of swords and fighting. Garren smiled at the continued misperception. Dawn finally broke through and the already roused camp was not long in regaining their saddles. They gave Garren one of the remounts as otherwise he seemed hopelessly afoot. Garren asked of Morgan as they rode along, "so what is the function and purpose of the Whiteguard? I have heard stories and rumors but what is the true tale?"

Morgan shrugged, "they basically exist to counteract the Blackguard, though ever theirs is a secret and desperate life as they are hunted men. I am surprised they persist at all, as it would not take a Wraith or other minion of evil long to decimate their ranks."

Garren said quietly, touching his sword hilt (which had reappeared as the Road had disowned him) in anticipation, "the Master has His own servants to counter such foes."

Morgan shrugged and the Wanderer nodded, smiling slightly to himself. They rode on for a few more hours and then took cover in a little copse to rest the horses for an hour before continuing their patrol. The Wanderer drew the strange boy aside, as the others took their midday meal, and said, "you are quite an odd young man, lad and that comes from an old man who has seen many strange things in his wanderings. Perhaps the others fail to see it, but I know the old tales well enough to know that you are not the clueless boy you seem."

Garren smiled, "and who or what do you say that I am?"

The old man grinned, "let us just say I do not worry if certain minions of evil should fall upon this encampment, for we are well guarded."

The boy laughed, "and what is it that gave me away?"

The man said, "the Road does not abandon those upon it, unless they have no need of its services or it of theirs. And how is it that you wear a sword as if you know well the use of it but swear you have no skill against mortal men?"

Garren nodded, "at least there is one here who understands. What are you doing here?"

The old man shrugged, "I travel where I will and sometimes even our own soldiers need a bit of refreshment and encouragement in their faith. That and it is a lonely and dangerous life, sometimes it is nice to be around others of our own calling."

Garren smiled, thinking how odd it was that an old storyteller, a troop of soldiers, and such as himself could be of the same calling, but the magpie on his shoulder assured him, "you are all My servants, though at times your tasks are very different, the goal is still the same." The boy smiled all the more, knowing his Master's words true.

The old man continued as if the bird had never been, for to him it had not, "where is your peculiar mount?"

The boy shook his head, "he refused his Calling and was cast out from amongst his people. He has regained his faith but now attempts the Road to see what redemption might wait at its end. For now, I am afoot, but who knows?"

The man laughed, "I have met only a few of your persuasion but you are certainly the most fascinating I have yet addressed." The man was even more astounded as the boy told him the full tale.

As the men were mounting up for the next leg of their journey, a grim howl sounded in the distance. The horses whinnied in fear and the men reached for their weapons. The storyteller exchanged an excited look with the boy, who said, "I have never actually fought any of these creatures before."

The old man laughed, "well, here is your big chance."

The captain rode forward and urged his men to take their places in the nearest defensible spot, knowing that no horse could outrun a Fellhound and whatever else might be accompanying it. Garren reached for his sword, wishing he had a mount that would not panic at the sight of such a beast. He gave up trying to calm the dancing horse and tossed his reins to the storyteller saying, "I had best face this thing alone and without such a hindrance as that horse is like to be." He slid from his horse and dashed towards the oncoming howls.

"What is he doing?" gasped Morgan, "If he were a coward he would run the other direction. If he were a fool or a traitor he might go towards it. I cannot imagine him as either."

The old man said, "he goes to do what he knows he must. I would doubt neither his courage nor his sense nor his integrity." All other conversation was lost as the men attempted to keep their horses from fleeing or throwing them, for the grim beast was now within sight and smell of their mounts.

Garren crept towards the monster, sword in hand. The beast stopped in its charge towards the company, now busy fighting their own horses for control. It was the size of a small bear but of a reptilian cast with leathery skin and flaming eyes. Dagger like teeth and claws gleamed in its mouth and upon its feet. It reeked of sulfur and hot ash, smoke poured from its nostrils. "What are you doing idiot?" came the mocking voice of a man, "My beast can easily tear you asunder. Just watch!" He motioned and the animal leapt upon the seeming boy before him, only to impale itself on Garren's waiting sword.

It howled piteously and both man and beast vanished in a wisp of smoke. A slow smile grew on Garren's face as he vanquished his first foe, but a look of utter confusion and pain quickly replaced it as he felt a horrible stabbing sensation in his back before he fell forward. He had time to see some dark robed creature standing over him with a bloody dagger in its fist as Byorne and his Pegassi materializing out of nowhere with sword drawn but a look of surprise on both their faces. Garren wondered what was so astonishing and as he blacked out, he realized that there should be no blood on the weapon held by his foe. The darkness took him and he could ponder it no longer. He came to himself in a world of agony and complaining muscles, which he had not felt since he lay dying of thirst upon that bitter plain so long ago. He looked about him and was surprised to find himself lying upon a pleasant road through a spring wood.

He was dizzy with shock and injury but slowly managed to sit up. Where was he? What had happened? He knew somehow that he was upon the Road once more; knowing its fickle character he did not doubt that he had some purpose upon it. The bigger question was, why did he feel mortal again? He was actually breathing as a necessity instead of as a habit or as a mask to keep mortal folk from guessing his true nature. He took off his tunic and found it indeed stained with blood, which was another phenomenon he thought long past. He reached back and tried to feel the wound and grimaced in pain, but pressed on in his explorations nonetheless. It was not deep and should heal but how had he come by a wound in the first place? He knew innately that he could feel pain and be banished back to the River, but the Messengers did not typically bleed or carry unhealed wounds.

Byorne and his Pegassi suddenly appeared at his side, as if in answer to his silent question. Garren replaced his shirt as the Messenger said, "we took care of the Wraith, but who would have thought he would be carrying such a weapon?" Garren gave him a strange look and the man continued, "it has not been used in a century or more that I know of. Its use is almost counterintuitive, but perhaps they have come up with some new scheme? At least there is only ever one of them."

"What is it?" sighed the boy, weary with pain and confusion and mortality.

Byorne said quietly, "they call it the Arrow of Discord, though in this case it was a dagger. It renders those beyond time mortal and those within time so struck are immediately cast into Eternity."

Garren did not like the sound of this at all and asked, "meaning?"

Byorne continued, "mortal men die instantly and creatures such as ourselves are vulnerable once more to all the constraints of mortality. There is no cure for a mortal so struck, as there is no cure for death. For us, death is the cure. The one good thing about the whole ordeal is that there is only ever one of the weapons in use at any time and as long as the latest victim lives, it is useless against all others."

Garren was quite astounded, "this reverses everything?"

The magpie lit once more on his shoulder and all bowed; once they had regained their former positions, He said, "not everything. You are Mine and have tasted of the River, and that cannot be taken from you. However, you will suffer a need for sleep, water, and food as you have not known since that point. Also, you are vulnerable to mortal attack though you cannot yourself inflict mortal harm on another. You can still assault your usual foes but you are yet trapped in a mortal shell, so must travel at a more natural pace and you can no longer do such feats as walking through walls. If you are mortally struck, you will return to your previous form and the weapon will once again be useful to My enemies."

Garren sighed, "what is to come of me?"

The bird laughed merrily, "you are to continue in your service to Me as always, though at times you will find it more inconvenient than you might wish." He was gone as suddenly as He had come and all shook their heads in wonder.

Garren climbed stiffly to his feet and asked, "and what am I doing upon the Road?"

Byorne smiled and said, "as always, your quest shall reveal itself in time. Farewell my friend." Suddenly he was gone.

But no sooner had he disappeared than the sound of hooves approached upon the Road; Garren looked eagerly towards the source of the sound. "What happened to you?" gasped Erian, as he looked upon the boy once more and noticed his torn and bloody tunic.

Garren shook his head, "just a nasty run in with an enemy, but the wounds are minor and will heal with time, though I shall be sore for a bit."

Erian shook his head, "you humans are always getting into trouble! At least you seem to be yourself and no test of the Road."

Garren gave him an odd look and then remembered why the creature was upon this strange way in the first place. He said, "are you still willing to bear such a burden as myself?"

The horse whinnied a laugh, "certainly, if we are allowed company at this point upon the way?"

Garren smiled, "I think it is allowed until it is not allowed."

He climbed aback the horse once more, thinking it quite a bit more difficult than he remembered and the former Pegassi remarked, "have you gained weight?"

Garren sighed and then laughed, "I suppose you could call it that. I am not feeling quite myself at the moment." The horse shook his mane in wonder but continued on his way, telling the boy of his many adventures upon the Road, but Garren was silent as to his recent adventures.

The trees thinned and the glory of spring faded around them until once more they looked upon the Utter East. The horse shuddered in terror and despair as he looked upon those bleak lands that he had once known as home. Erian sighed, "what a miserable sight this is to mortal eyes! Not even an herbivore can survive in this land."

Garren smiled, though mortal in form his sight remained unchanged and he looked upon all the glories of Paradise. The horse continued into those bleak lands as the path led him but soon he was stumbling in thirst and weariness; Garren dismounted to spare his friend the added burden. He could see all the glories of Paradise but it seemed the mortal environment yet weighed as heavily upon him as it ever had when he had walked this same empty land what seemed millennia ago. Garren tried to pluck a few berries from a shrub they passed but his hand passed through it like mist.

The magpie on his shoulder chirped, "you can yet see this bright country but you cannot currently touch it." He nodded in understanding though the bird had already vanished; he knew his gesture was seen however. Injured as he was, the boy was the weaker of the pair and soon lay, unable to rise from where he had fallen.

Erian said in despair, "I cannot leave you yet I must not remain!"

Garren croaked with parched voice, "you must go on. Naught else must be greater than your devotion to the Master. Go!"

Erian laid his ears back in frustration but knew the boy to speak truly; there was nothing he could do for the fallen child of men anyway, save die beside him. He said heavily, "farewell my friend, perhaps this day shall be that on which we meet in the Brightlands in the morning." Garren did not reply, for the darkness had taken him. Erian shook his head sadly and trudged on into the distance.

"You cannot die that easily," chastised a familiar voice, as strong arms turned over Garren's prone form and forced him to drink something wonderful. His eyes fluttered open and strength flowed through him once more.

He looked into the eyes of Kile and coughed, "I see you survived the Road."

The young Messenger laughed, "as it seems you are failing to do."

Garren stood, stretched, and moved in joy; his wounds, aches, and weakness were gone. The Water of Life had fully restored him, at least mortally speaking. He sighed, "maybe you could have let me die..."

Kile laughed, "sorry, orders."

Garren smiled ruefully, "I suppose if it had been meant to be it would have been."

The magpie lit on his shoulder and nodded sternly, "just because you are physically mortal does not mean you are allowed to slip back into that backwards way of thinking. Do not let your physical status distract you; remember who and what you are, but most importantly Whose." Garren bowed his head in contrition and the bird laughed, "I understand your frustration with the current situation but you must be patient and trust." Garren sighed and the bird vanished with a whispered, "remember, you are never alone!"

Kile smiled, "so how does it feel to have our roles reversed?"

Garren laughed, "I am not quite a clueless boy, remember?"

Kile smiled, "I suppose not, but come. You will need a lift if you are to reach the River in time." Garren nodded and climbed aback the waiting Pegassi.

The world spun, resolving itself into the great mountains towering over the bottomless Rift and coming slowly upon them was the quite weary Erian. He looked up eagerly at the mountains but then despairingly at the pit and then collapsed in exhaustion and overwhelming sorrow. The magpie fluttered down and stared at the poor beast for what seemed only a moment and then he whimpered like a beaten dog, jumped up with his last strength, and was lost in the Abyss, at least he assumed he was. Garren said to Kile, "do we all respond like that?"

Kile shrugged, "I assume by your question that that was your reaction; I know it was my own."

Erian regained himself amidst the swirl of the River and was soon standing upon the shore, in his previous and proper form. After a parting word to his Maker, he trotted up to the waiting men and his long sundered kinsman. The two Pegassi greeted one another joyously and then Erian turned his attention to the two men. He was startled to see Garren there and apparently still mortal. Erian said in confusion, "how is it you are alive? I was sure I had left you for dead?"

Kile grinned, "we gave him a lift and a drink."

Erian cocked his head, "have you not then finished the Road?"

Garren said, "the Road will not avail me and neither will the River."

The Pegassi shook his head, "but come, have faith! I have been restored!"

Garren smiled at his friend's joy, "but mine is a strange case."

He then told the full tale to the astonished Pegassi, who then snorted, "you had to put up with me in mortal guise for a time so I suppose it is my turn to return the favor."

Garren encircled the great neck in a hug and said, "it is good to be together at last my friend, no matter the strange circumstances."

The Pegassi snorted, "I look forward to the day when we are both in our proper forms."

Garren grinned, "I think our 'proper' forms are whatever condition we are in at the moment."

The Pegassi sighed, "I am the one who is supposed to be instructing you!"

Kile and his mount shared a grin and the boy said, "now that you two are acquainted, we have our own duties to be about."

As they vanished in a flash of light, Erian said, "I suppose we had best be about our own business. Can you at least ride, my dear mortal?"

Garren laughed, "a bit awkwardly perhaps but well enough I suppose, at least on such a docile mount." The Pegassi snorted and with a flash of his great wings, they were off. "We are on the Road again," said Garren in some astonishment.

Erian laughed, "perhaps you are making up for lost time upon this way as you have never traversed it, as is usually the case with your kind."

Garren grinned, "that I doubt, but it will be interesting to see what quest lies upon it for such as ourselves." They felt drawn down the path and followed it for some time until they came upon another weary traveler.

"Ryan!" gasped Garren as he recognized the boy ahead of them. Ryan glanced back over his shoulder and eyed his former acquaintance skeptically, wondering if this new vision were not yet another trick of this cursed Road. Garren slid from Erian's back; the Pegassi looked for all the world as any common sort of horse might in such a circumstance.

Ryan continued to stare at the figment in doubt and finally Garren laughed in understanding, "you think I am some trick of the Road!" Ryan nodded doubtfully and Garren continued, "fear not, I am myself."

Ryan asked skeptically, "it has been at least five years since our parting. What then are you still doing on this cursed byway?"

Garren grinned, "time passes strangely upon this way. For me, it seems only hours since our parting."

Ryan sighed, "I hope I am not lost on this wretched path for that long!"

Garren asked, "I thought you denied the Master and all such tales?"

Ryan snorted, "they say a great treasure lies at the end of this Road. I have tried my hand at many things but never am I satisfied, so at last I thought to investigate the truth of this strange path."

Garren said quietly, "you still do not believe?"

Ryan laughed scornfully, "believe what? I will discover if the tales are true and there are many about this strange way and few mention your mythic King. What has such devotion availed you? It seems the Road only exists that we might wander forever lost upon it until some misstep ends our vain wanderings. I will continue upon this path until I discover its secrets or tire of the journey. I know I must stay true to the path, we shall see what lies at its end. If it has one."

Garren sighed, "eventually you shall end in the utter East, the place you have spent your entire later life trying to escape. This is a fatal path to walk for one not in the King's keeping."

"Enough!" growled Ryan, "If you wish to accompany me you will refrain from preaching at me. Do you know what ever came of our former companions?"

Garren shrugged, "Kile reached the end of the Road and discovered what lies thence. Trap set out upon this path but I know not what came of him. Morgan rides with the Whiteguard, or at least he did a few years ago."

Ryan shook his head, "they have all fallen to your Mythology? A pity that, I thought Morgan at least had more sense. What came of Tyne, do you think?"

Garren shuddered, "whatever his Dark Master thought was best."

Ryan groused, "I wish you all had the sense to leave well enough alone! Why can you not just live your life and be content?"

Garren grinned, "why are you walking the Road if you are so content with your mundane life?"

Ryan sighed, "at least I tried a few things before suicide or futility, whatever this is. Come, we had best be off. We make no progress standing still." They walked on, side by side for a time, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally Ryan asked, "what ever happened to that talking horse we fled that horrible village aback?" Garren grinned, "he too took the Road and discovered its end."

Ryan gaped, "why did you not finish it together then and how is it he is finished and you wander still?"

Garren said mysteriously, but with a broad grin, "we each must follow our own course and meet what lies upon it." Ryan looked at the dull beast following obediently behind his master; he looked nothing like the splendid though wretched creature they had fled the Utter West upon.

Ryan asked, "then where did you get this beast?"

Garren shrugged, "the Master provides as He will."

Ryan growled, "I wish he would provide me some relief from your nonsense. What happened five years ago was strange enough and sadly normal life was never enough thereafter. I guess I am really here to see if there are things beyond mortal comprehension: meaning and purpose and an escape from sorrow and suffering and pain without either your benighted King or his dark nemesis. Is there anything more for a rational man?"

Garren asked, "why is it you look for more but refuse to believe it when it is explained to you? You refute one explanation and yet demand another. Either man is dust and nothing after or there are stranger and more wondrous things beyond our understanding and ability to sense, and if the latter then we must accept it as it is revealed to us rather than refuse it because it is different than we wish it to be. We may dislike daffodils because they are yellow but we cannot deny their existence because we dislike that they are yellow. You may dislike the Master as He has revealed Himself but you cannot refute His existence because you dislike the presentation. Either He is or He is not. If He is not, then it little matters what you think of the tale but you cannot say the tale does not exist because you dislike it. Truth does not redefine itself based upon our preferences. We must accept it as it is or deny it altogether."

Ryan growled, "I thought we had decided that you were not to preach?"

Garren laughed, "then you had best not ask such philosophical questions."

Ryan smiled slightly, "I suppose I did bring it upon myself but why must your Master be the only truth? Why can there not be multiple truths."

Garren laughed, "then they could not all be Truth, as some of them would contradict some of the others. There can only be one true Truth and that you must discover and decide if it is so."

Ryan nodded, "perhaps this Road will avail me in that quest. It is a strange quest though, being true to the Road."

Garren smiled, "it is not to the Road that one must be true, but to what lies at its end. The Road cannot save mortal man but the King can. Even if you complete the Road, disaster awaits at its end if you are not true to the King."

Ryan shook his head, "we shall see my deluded friend. How is it you know so much of what has happened to others upon this way?"

Garren said, "I have encountered them in my wanderings."

The discussion was cut short as Trap stood before them, beckoning them to follow. Ryan was quite astounded to see another lost companion upon this strange way but hopeful that at last he had found another sane voice to counterbalance Garren's inanity. But Garren was not so overjoyed to see his old companion, for there was something distinctly odd about the boy. Ryan noticed nothing amiss but to Garren's strange eyes, Trap seemed somewhat misty and there was a distinctly dark tinge about him.

"Careful," whispered Garren, "this might be yet another trick of the Road."

Ryan scoffed, "nonsense, you were not, why then should he?"

Garren said, "because he beckons you down a side path."

Ryan stopped in mid stride and said, "you are right. Well phantom, what do you want?"

Trap said plaintively, "I have found it! I have found the end of the Road." Ryan looked at Garren hopefully but the boy shook his head. Trap looked near despair, "please come! It is your only hope! That way lies death and worse!"

Ryan looked thoughtful but Garren said, "the sure path is only ever the main one, all else is a snare."

Trap said in terror, "please come! I am trapped and only you can free me. So too can you salvage your own lives!" Garren shook his head at Ryan's pleading look and received a frown in return.

Ryan groused, "what sort of King is your Master if he allows such innocent men to suffer and lets no one aid them?"

Garren said, "it is not for you to free him; all you can do is become ensnared yourself. Continue upon the Road if you will but if you turn aside it is lost to you."

Ryan looked longingly down the Road and then sadly at his former companion and then frowned at Garren, "I shall continue since I must, but I wish no more of your company since you seem so heartless a slave to your wretched Master." And without a look back he continued on.

Garren turned to the ghost-like Trap, "lead on my friend." The boy seemed somewhat relieved though very confused but was unable to voice his concerns.

Garren and Erian followed down the path and the Road vanished behind them but they soon came to a little cottage where an old woman sat spinning by the front door. She smiled at the newcomer warmly and said, "welcome my boy, welcome. Rest from your weary way for a time and sit by my fire. I am sure you have not tasted fresh bread in days beyond count."

Garren shook his head but did not feel at all comfortable in the woman's presence for he could see the wicked hag beneath the grandmotherly visage. He said, "you must release all those you hold captive else you shall cease offering your accursed bread to hungry travelers."

Trap's eyes were huge, for no one ever spoke to his evil mistress in that way. She stood slowly and said in a voice full of tears, "who would speak to an old woman so?"

Garren said quietly, "one who was sent to free your slaves. I know full well what you are witch, now loose your prisoners ere it goes ill for you." He drew his sword and held it at the ready. She cackled with delight and suddenly the clearing was full of armed men but Garren only shrugged, "so be it." She shrieked and fled to the far side of the clearing as all of her minions made to fall upon the impudent boy but their swords were as fickle and dangerous as sunbeams to mortal flesh and caused no injury.

Garren approached boldly, she cackled evilly and said, "have it your way then fool!"

Suddenly she was gone, as was the cottage, but the armed men remained and were staring at themselves and each other in wonder. Trap ran up and embraced Garren, "you have broken the spell! I, like a fool, followed and tasted her vile bread and after I was her slave as you saw. I grew so weary and hungry upon the Way that I could not help myself."

Garren said quietly, "you could have refused but you did not and suffered the consequences."

Trap asked, "can we regain the Road?"

Garren shook his head, "that I do not know. You forsook it willingly and so may perhaps never find it again. But you may still choose to follow the True King regardless, for it was He that sent your salvation this day." As he finished speaking, all hands reached for their swords as the sound of approaching hooves came upon them but Garren soon loosed his hold on his weapon as he recognized who the band of approaching soldiers was.

Morgan slid from his saddle and ran to embrace first Garren and then Trap, overjoyed at their reunion. He looked in astonishment at the two dozen armed men gathered about them and asked, "where did you find such an army?"

Garren laughed, "in a very strange place indeed, but perhaps they will be willing to lend their strength to your own?"

Morgan grinned, "I think that would be most welcome indeed. Where have you been all these years? We thought you dead when you ran off to confront that beast!"

Garren shrugged, "here and there. What of you?"

Morgan smiled abashedly, "you have been gone long enough that I have been made a captain of the Whiteguard and lead a squad of my own now."

Trap smiled, "I would be happy to aid you in your quest." The others so rescued nodded their agreement and soon the happy little troop set off, quite astonished and overjoyed at such an addition to their numbers.

As they moved away, Morgan turned back in surprise to see Garren standing alone with his rather dull looking horse, "are you not coming?"

Garren shook his head, "no, I have duties elsewhere. Farewell my friends!"

Morgan exchanged a look with Trap and said, "I do not know why he is so flighty every time we meet?" Trap could only shake his head and smile. They waved their farewell and were soon lost to sight beyond a distant hill.

Erian tried cropping the grass and swallowed hard, "this mortal fare is just not the same as the stuff I am used to."

Garren grinned, "speaking of which, I hope you have something to eat in your saddlebags."

Erian snorted, "I told you it would be much easier if you are an herbivore." Garren laughed but was already helping himself to the thoughtfully provided food therein. His hunger sated, he settled down and for the first time in a very long time, went to sleep. The Pegassi stood guard over the exhausted boy and though a strange duty to be about, he thought it much more pleasant than his days as a mortal himself.

Garren sat up suddenly as Erian nudged him awake. He groaned as he stretched and stood, unused to sore and stiff muscles once more. "Trying to escape boy?" asked a gruff voice, "I think not, you will be dealt with as all the rest. Move along."

The soldier grabbed the boy's shoulders and shoved him ahead as they resumed their march; another took up the reins of the foolish horse that Erian appeared. Garren sighed, he had been captured by the Blackguard. They did not have far to travel, for soon they came to the little village that was their destination. The terrified villagers were already gathering on the green and into their huddled midst they shoved the boy. Half the soldiers watched the cowering villagers while the rest searched the village for anyone who might be trying to avoid today's little event.

"Now," said the captain, when all living souls were gathered before him, "your little village has been volunteered to provide us with provisions and new recruits. Anything of value and your young men now belong to us. Surrender them willingly and there will be no trouble. Resist and I will burn your village to the ground and put all of you to the sword. Any questions?" There was a mutual groan from all the captive villagers but they did what was demanded of them. Garren and three other boys were found to be viable recruits, Erian and the few serviceable horses in the village were also confiscated, along with anything of any monetary or edible value. Then the soldiers packed their plunder and moved on; the villagers sighed with relief at having escaped so easily, for they had heard many a tale of far worse coming of such a raid.

Once the troop had stopped for the night, the captain thought it best to inform his new recruits of their fate. Said he, "you have now begun your glorious career in the Blackguard. Forget anything else you had thought to do with your lives for they now belong to us. You can either enjoy what is to come or spend the rest of your short life in utter misery, but there is no hope of escape or rescue. Get some sleep, for tomorrow will not be a pleasant day as we begin to turn you into soldiers." He turned on his heel and marched away, leaving the four boys to exchange a look of horror and terror.

"I do not want to be a soldier," said the smallest of the boys, "especially for such a company."

Garren said quietly, "perhaps there is hope. A large company of the Whiteguard is nearby but we must get word to them. Can any of you ride?"

The small boy said, "I can ride quite well, I can also move about without being noticed."

Garren grinned, "then are you willing to be our scout and alert the Guard?"

The boy shivered, "it will be dangerous but staying here is no better. I will do it. How will I know where to go? How do I get away?"

Garren replied, "tomorrow when we break camp, I will show you which horse to take. He knows where to go and can outrun any mortal horse. Just hang on and do not look back."

The boy nodded grimly, "I shall do as you say." He smiled, "it will be an adventure at least." One of the guards was looking at them with an irritated look on his face and all four thought it wise to speak no more upon the subject lest their plot be discovered, such as it was. Only Garren had any hope at all in such a fickle scheme.

They were roughly roused before dawn and set to work at the most tedious and messy tasks associated with the morning routine: the first step in turning them into competent soldiers. Kyan, the potential hero of the day, was set to work on the picket lines tending the horses, which providentially allowed him access to Erian, who was the key to Garren's plan. The Pegassi's ears went straight up and he glanced in astonishment towards Garren, as this strange boy came forth and began speaking to a horse as he would to a dear friend. Garren smiled knowingly and nodded his agreement to the plan, to which the Pegassi shook his head in wonder and finished listening to the boy before him. He nodded his great head, watched the boy untie him, allowed the boy to mount, and they were off faster than thought. For the boy to attempt such on a mortal horse would be suicide but no one could catch a Pegassi.

Erian did not so much run as the world seemed to shift around him and suddenly they were in the midst of Morgan's company with whom Garren had so recently parted. Everyone had their weapons in hand at the sudden advent of such a stranger in their camp, but Kyan's quick explanation astounded them and roused the whole company to go after those that held his companions. Soon the whole company was mounted and following the strange young scout aback Erian, swiftly on their way to the rescue.

Tyne had arrived suddenly for an inspection of this particular unit of the Blackguard. His eyes fell upon Garren and he smiled in wicked delight, for the boy had cost him much. Five years ago, the wretch had nearly caused Tyne's vile master to destroy him for his failure upon his first recruiting mission. At this point in his career, he should have been promoted to Wraith at least, if not a Dreadlord, but for the sake of that worthless boy he was still nothing but a Spy and the lowest ranked among his own wretched kind to boot, but perhaps that was about to change. Revenge would be sweet indeed. He quickly finished his inspection and took the boy by the throat, saying, "this one is mine. You may continue in your duties captain, as all seems in order."

The terrified captain bowed his thanks and was too cowed to protest the loss of one of his new recruits, and none dared tell Tyne that they had lost another of this lot that very morning; they had just been going to pursue the boy when the Spy arrived for his inspection. They loved their lives too much to tell him all that had come to pass of late. Garren struggled vainly in Tyne's terrible grasp, knowing nothing of good could come of their reunion. He took the best looking horse from the picket lines and rode off, still clutching his captive; the captain sighed when he saw his favorite horse confiscated, but cheered himself with the thought that it could be much worse, at least he was still alive. At least he was until Kyan and the Whiteguard fell upon the stunned and disorganized company.

When the fighting was over and the enemy soldiers were dead or captive, Morgan interviewed the two remaining prisoners. He was aghast to hear that a Spy had made off with Garren, and the creature was none other than Tyne himself. He turned to Trap in concern, "what is to be done? We cannot go up against such a foe. As much as it grieves me to leave him to his fate, I cannot endanger the entire company for his sake. We must pray that the Master will send help of a kind that will avail him." The entire company wore a grim look as they prepared to leave and find a safe place to make camp for the night.

Kyan, still sat aback Erian, as the great horse turned his head to speak with his young rider, "you are a bold one lad, are you ready for another adventure?" The boy was stunned to hear the horse speak but after this day there was very little that could surprise him.

He said, "if you are suggesting we rescue Garren, then I am all for it." The Pegassi smiled, screamed his eagerness to the world, and they vanished in pursuit of the errant Messenger, leaving everyone wondering at the suddenness and meaning of such a parting.

Tyne had ridden hard for the nearest clump of trees that might hide him from casual sight: this business must not be interrupted by casual passersby. He bound Garren cruelly to a tree and paced before him like a judge ready to condemn him to death or worse. Suddenly a thought occurred to Tyne and he ceased his pacing to stare at the boy, "what are you?"

Garren grinned, "that is a strange question."

Tyne shook his troubled head, "no it is not. There has been something strange about you since our first reunion. How did you survive the East? How did you help Ryan survive it? Could it be?" He slashed a dagger across the boy's cheek and the line of red oozing from the wound brought immediate comfort to the disturbed Spy, whatever his strange tale, he was at least flesh and blood. Tyne eyed his foolish companion once more, "I need a promotion. Thanks to you I am the least of my master's servants. But perhaps you can rectify the situation?"

Garren growled, "I will do nothing to aid your vile master."

Tyne grinned cruelly, "I did not ask if you wanted to. You will suffer much for your interference and I will gain greatly from it."

"Leave the boy alone," came a grim voice from behind the triumphant Spy.

Tyne hissed in fury and turned to face his enemy; he gasped in terror to see one of the Messengers invading his solitude. He reached for his sword and held it to Garren's throat. Byorne laughed, "have you any idea how little that worries me?"

Tyne nearly dropped his sword in surprise, "you do not care if I kill the wretch?"

Byorne shrugged, "it is all the same to me. You might actually be doing the lad a favor."

Tyne looked truly confused, "I do not understand?"

"That is because you are an idiot," snarled a new voice, "and our master should have cast you into the Rift when first you failed him." A Wraith stepped out from behind a tree and launched a ball of black fire, which consumed Byorne and his Pegassi.

"What do you mean?" snarled Tyne.

The Wraith shook his head, "the fool is one of those thrice cursed Messengers."

Tyne hissed, "he bleeds!"

The Wraith laughed, "the Arrow of Discord, or rather a dagger in this case, rendered him mortal. He is still what he is. I have been trying to find him for some time and you nearly destroyed everything. Our master has plans for this fool and you nearly bungled everything again! I do not think your failure shall go unpunished this time." Tyne hissed in vehemence and leapt upon his supposed ally with a fury, forcing the Wraith to defend himself.

Garren watched in wonder as evil turned upon itself, musing what in all the worlds the Evil One could want with him and dreading the answer. A noise from behind drew his attention from the fight before him. Kyan and Erian stood behind the tree and were quickly loosing him from his bonds. He smiled gratefully at them and turned to make sure the fiends were still fighting amongst themselves. They seemed completely occupied, so he scrambled aback Erian and began to pull Kyan up behind him, when Tyne screamed, "no!"

He launched a dagger and took Kyan in the leg, the boy screamed in agony. Erian wasted no more time and vanished, reappearing suddenly far away from the confusion and danger in the little copse. Garren slid quickly to the ground and laid the boy gently on the turf. Kyan seemed in the grip of delirium and fever, his injured leg was black and smelled of gangrene. Erian shook his head, "the weapons of the Enemy are dreadful. That minor wound will kill him in a matter of hours."

Garren shook his head grimly, "it cannot be! He risked so much this day! It is for my sake he has ended thus. Can nothing be done?"

Erian shook his head grimly, "I know of nothing we can do for him. Poor lad, he would have made a grand Messenger."

Garren looked up hopefully, "can we get him to the River?"

Erian sighed, "that is not for us to decide, to him it may be only the Rift but we can pray that the Master is merciful." They were soon aback the Pegassi for this one, desperate chance at hope.

Garren sighed as the world resolved itself into the Eastern Waste as he felt the weary atmosphere descend upon his mortal frame; he had not missed that feeling in the least. He could see Paradise, the Mountains, and the River but he could not touch them nor could they offer him any relief or refreshment in this bitter land. He laid the boy beside the Rift and knew it would not avail him, and worse, the miserable country about Kyan only seemed to deepen the misery and pain emanating from his injured leg.

"A bold lad," said the Magpie, as He fluttered into the midst of the grieved pair.

Mourned Garren, "is there nothing that can be done?"

The Bird sighed, "such is tragically the course of life in this fallen mortal sphere; the worst of it is he is a stranger to Me. It is a pity, for I could use his great heart and courage to aid many."

"Can nothing be done?" came Garren's pleading cry.

The Magpie eyed him curiously, "something can always be done, the question is what?"

Garren said sadly, "you gave me a chance as I lay dying!"

Said the Bird almost thoughtlessly, "I suppose I did, but this lad is beyond comprehension. I cannot give him that choice."

"Can I take his wound, that he may be allowed that choice?" came the desperate reply.

The Magpie smiled curiously, "now why would you do something that extreme child?"

Garren said quietly, "You bore the wounds of all mankind, why cannot I do the same for someone in extreme need, especially when it means a chance at Life."

"Well spoken," said the Bird, "but if I allow this you will not only take his wound but shall also fall into the hands of those you just escaped. It will not be pleasant."

Garren sighed in relief, "let it be as you have spoken." Garren suddenly vanished as the prone form before them ceased his painful struggles and now rested in a deep, peaceful sleep.

The astounded Pegassi said, "could You not have healed the boy without this strange bargain?"

The Bird eyed the great horse and said, "it is not for you to question My will child. I could have certainly healed the boy but there are some things that must be. My Enemy is about to discover that He cannot abuse My servants and escape unscathed. Garren will now understand more fully the Price I paid for all My erring children. The boy has a chance at Life and you, My dear Pegassi would be wise to learn not to question Me." Fully chastened, the great creature cowered before the miniscule avian form, who turned a gentle eye upon the terrified Pegassi, "fear not child, I will reprove you for your own benefit but I shall never forsake you. Now when this little one awakes, bear him to the Road and explain there what you must, then go find your friend." The Pegassi reared for joy as the Magpie suddenly vanished. Kyan sat up rubbing his head and staring in wonder at the great horse before him and the desolate land about him. He fainted dead away when Erian explained matters and thus he had to wait for him to awaken again before he could continue.

"Fool!" snarled the Wraith, as he ran to the prone form upon the ground after disentangling himself from the treacherous Spy. To his eyes, Garren had been struck by the dagger and fell wounded from the Pegassi's back as he vanished with the other boy.

Tyne growled, "at least you still have your captive."

"I wanted him alive!" raged the Wraith.

Tyne shrugged, "if you amputate the leg you can spare the man."

The Wraith looked stunned, "finally, the creature speaks sense, but do not think this will spare you our master's wrath! Help me before his wounds kill him."

The dagger had rendered Garren as insensible as it had Kyan, but once free of the dreadful wound, and with the pain of the impromptu operation, he came quickly to himself only to scream in agony and horror. A swift blow from Tyne quickly silenced him as he went reeling back into darkness. Scowled the Wraith, "just try not to kill him! Come, we must get him to Golcamoth and there we shall see what will come of him."

Garren awoke some hours later in a dank cell somewhere in the bowels of Fenwith Prison. "Awake are you?" snarled Tyne, who apparently shared Garren's miserable retreat, "This is all your fault you know, all of it! But for you I could be something dreadful."

Garren snorted but then gasped in agony, "you already are something dreadful, I cannot imagine you being much worse. What are we doing here?"

Tyne shrugged, "I do not know. I am in disgrace and that horrid Wraith has some pet project of which you are the cornerstone. It will be a dreadful end for us both."

Garren glanced at his severed leg, which ached horribly and sighed, "the beginning was none too pleasant, but we have both made our choices." Tyne's only reply was a bitter laugh.

They had not long to wait, for a pair of dreadful creatures soon barged into their cell and easily subdued each of the captives, dragging them out into the main courtyard of the fortress. "Thank you for volunteering for this little experiment Tyne," laughed the Wraith as the prisoners were secured before him. "You were dissatisfied with your previous position and your constant failures have made you quite expendable, so you have volunteered for this little trial. Blood is always required for such matters, but this time we shall see what happens when it is the blood of one of our Great Enemy's precious pets. Tyne, this may be the best or worst day of your life. It will either destroy you or make you the most powerful creature on earth."

Tyne could only whimper but whether in anticipation or dismay, none ever knew. The grim rite began, but something must have gone dreadfully wrong, for there came a great scream of rage and agony, a bright light engulfed everything, and then the entire Prison and all within it were swallowed by a monstrous earthquake; a hideous wail of despair rang from the far side of the Dreadful Mountains.

Garren awoke on the bank of the River, whole and fully himself once more. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the terrible experience he had just come through, but the Joy of his Master's country soon drove such horrors from his mind. Erian stood nearby and whinnied a welcome and they greeted each other warmly. Just then Kile and Byorne rode up and likewise greeted their friend, gaping at the strange adventure for which he had willingly volunteered.

Kile grinned, "the Enemy is not going to like this."

"He does not," said the Magpie swooping overhead, "he has declared all out war and plans the total destruction of the Greylands. You had best ride out to stop him."

The three men and their Pegassi stared at one another in amazement; how were six to defeat the Enemy's numberless hordes? But then Garren laughed in relief and comprehension, for they would not go alone. Understanding dawned suddenly in the minds of his companions and with one accord they rode west. But they rode not alone, for as swift as thought gathered all the Master's servants, the living and the dead. So it was a great throng, glowing like the sun, gathered outside Golcamoth where the minions of evil had gathered in number like the stars, but in appearance, dark as the void between. Those who had not willingly sided with either the Master or the Enemy now found themselves among the Enemy's hordes, cowering among horrible creatures they could not even name.

The two armies stood and stared at one another but before either side rushed upon the other, a small bird fluttered between them and landed on an obliging boulder. He simply looked at the minions of darkness and the terrible creatures found themselves trembling in terror and wailing in despair. With a great roar of pain and horror, the entire swarm fled into the darkness behind them, never to be seen again. Of course the Enemy did not like these tactics, so came forth himself to offer challenge to this so-called Great King. The great shadow towered over everything but the Bird simply looked at the Shadow, which shrieked like a thousand scalded cats and dissipated like mist in the sun. Then a great light radiated from the Bird, so bright all had to turn away. When they could see once more, the world was not as they had known it, but was far better than they could ever describe.

### The Three Kindreds:

"Raise him well, love him while you can," said the hooded old man, standing upon the doorstep in the pouring rain. He handed the soggy infant gently to the woman, peering in astonishment at the strange visitor who would arrive at such an hour and for such a purpose. Continued the old man, "he will bless and break your heart my good woman. Teach him in the old ways, in all that is right and true. I shall come from time to time to see how he does but yours is the most important part in the raising of such a child."

"And what sort of child is he?" gasped the woman in joy and dread.

The old man was silent a moment before he replied, "his people are wilder and older and wiser than mortal men could ever hope to be. His is an ancient lineage with many saints and scoundrels in the mix. Teach him well, for we will certainly rue the day when he comes of age, if he chooses evil over good. His future can be everything bright and glorious or utterly dark and full of ultimate despair. He is only yours for a time, and then he must choose his own path, whether for good or for ill. After, he belongs to no man and all ties to kith and kin shall be utterly forsaken."

The woman's eyes were large, "how can you ask such a thing of me?"

The man smiled secretively, "it is not I that asks but the Great King. If raised properly, this child may one day be a great servant of the King or if he chooses evil, one of the greatest servants of the Dark Prince and a foe to all mankind. It is a terrible thing I ask: to raise a child as your own and then to utterly lose him to the future that awaits, be it bright or drear. But this thing must be done and there is no other. Will you do it?"

She was silent a moment and then the concern melted from her eyes, as she looked upon the wriggling bundle in her arms, she said, "whether for a day or a lifetime, he has found a home." The man smiled deeply, bowed his thanks, and vanished into the fury of the night.

The woman had utterly despaired of ever having children and her husband was quite surprised to suddenly find himself a father when he returned from his journey a week later. He soon enough fell in love with the little creature and did not begrudge the boy for not having a common heredity with his adoptive parents. About the time the boy was weaned, the woman found herself with child and as the boy grew so did his family. By the time he was eight he had four younger siblings and nothing was ever mentioned by his parents that he was not of their own blood, but they were all of a height and of similar feature, whereas he was rather stocky and had distinctively lighter hair and eyes. For all the difference in appearance, there was no difference in affection, for in his parents' eyes there was no difference in how much they adored each of their children, adopted or otherwise.

True to his word, the old magician popped in from time to time to check upon the boy and speak with those who raised him. The man had long watched this particular family and knew well that they would raise the child as he must be raised if disaster were to ultimately be averted. The boy thought the aged stranger nothing more than an eccentric old man who wandered between the local villages proclaiming the old ways and defying the edicts of the Dark Prince. His parents taught him well in all the lore and truth of the Great King and His perpetual war with the Dark Prince, a rebel who was once His greatest servant but now claimed lordship over all the Grey Lands, as the mortal world was known. The old man added to this knowledge various other arcane legends and stories of the other peoples known to roam the earth, but who lurked in strange and distant places far from the abodes of men.

These legends fascinated him no end. To think that there were actually dragons, griffins, and unicorns abroad in the world! The other village children thought them all fairy tales and nonsense but Kyan and his family did not doubt the veracity of the old man's words. The Three Kindreds they were called, and little was known about each of the three save that they were wise and powerful creatures that did not mingle much with men. Only fools ever went in search of such creatures and few, if any, had ever returned from such a venture to tell the tale. Kyan felt a strange sort of yearning deep in his heart to go in search of those legends himself one day, but for now he was content to remain at home and learn his father's trade. He grew in wisdom and years, but not in stature. He was a rather short and homely sort of boy, not one that any of the local women might look upon with favor as a possible son-in-law. His mother however, knew that that was not to be his fate so did not fret that no mother but herself found him beautiful. His only physical feature of any note was his eyes: of the most vivid and astounding blue. His mother looked into those eyes and felt both joy and sorrow, knowing what one day must be but for now, knowing only the joy of her son.

The children were playing in the woods one evening as the old man came again to the door, as he had done on a stormy night nearly sixteen years ago. The woman saw him coming with both joy and trepidation for she knew what must eventually be, but hoped that it was not yet quite time. He greeted her warmly and followed her into the kitchen where they were seated, but neither sipped at their tea for this visit was far different than all that had come before.

"The time approaches," said the old man quietly, "when your son must leave home to discover who he is and what the future holds for him, else the servants of the Enemy shall fall upon him and either corrupt or destroy him. When he yearns to go, you must be ready to say goodbye."

"Forever?" asked she with tears threatening to spill forth.

The old man smiled, "forever is far too long a time for me to conjecture but if he becomes what you have raised him to be, and you remain faithful to the Great King, then I have no fear that you will only be parted but for a lifetime or so. Of course, either of you can certainly choose to rebel against the King and then you shall certainly be sundered, as all such rebels are doomed to endure."

She nodded grimly and then said, "what or who is he?"

The old man smiled, "that he must discover for himself. You have done your part; now he must do his. Fear not, for he is not alone and neither are we."

She nodded sagely and smiled, "then I am not to know?"

He laughed, "probably not this side of eternity at least. But after, I think it will be quite an interesting tale." Their conversation was cut short as the children came bursting into the house in all their youthful enthusiasm. The old man smiled joyfully at the woman's brood and her eyes twinkled in pleasure at his joy. The children all tried to talk at once but their mother shushed them that the old man might address Kyan. He said, "I think we had best have a long talk alone, my boy. Will you walk with me?"

The boy nodded eagerly and his younger siblings began to complain that they too wished to go. The pair left the enraged youngsters to their patient mother and disappeared into the quickening night. The boy was not shy in asking the old man, once they were well away from listening ears, "what is it you wish to speak of? I think that you must know who I am. Will you tell me?"

The old man smiled secretly and said, "why is it you think you are other than what you appear to be?"

The boy shrugged, "just a feeling perhaps, but it grows by the day. I fear I must soon leave home to seek the knowledge I need or I shall burst asunder with the strain."

The old man nodded, "the time is coming when you must do just that. You are right in assuming that though she loves you dearly, your mother is not she who brought you forth and that these villagers are not your people. But I cannot tell you who you are for even I do not know. I only know that I brought you to this place when you were very young and gave you into the arms of she whom you call mother. She knew this day would come and that you would one day vanish, as if you had never been. It is not within the lands of men that you will find your past and future."

The boy was quiet as he pondered this and said, "but what if I wish not to leave my home and family?"

The man asked, "what do you think will happen?"

The boy was silent once more and said, "I endanger not only myself but all I love by staying. I do not know how or why, but I must leave, else all is lost. Where must I go?"

The old man shook his head, "that I cannot answer either but you will know when you must."

Mollia helped her ladyship on with her gown and slippers for the ball that evening. The eldest daughter of Lord Shripnell was quite eager to dance with all of the handsome and eligible young lords and princes that would certainly be attending such an important function. Her maid would ever be her silent shadow, making sure her ladyship never wanted for anything. The girl had been in service to the young lady since Lord Shripnell bought the orphan for a song from a band of seedy looking soldiers passing through on business of their own. Perhaps he had taken pity on the poor girl in the hands of such ragged men because his own daughter was of an age with her, but he had also promised her her own handmaid for her birthday that year so it was an easy decision. The scoundrels had undoubtedly raided whatever village the child had once resided in and had perhaps even killed her parents. Whatever her humble origins, she was now the property of the Lord and his family and had a far better future ahead of her than most peasants in the known world.

The girl knew well her duties towards her mistress and performed them perfectly, but there was something deep within her that was growing restless at the thought of remaining forever a prisoner in her lady's house. For a slave to runaway was punishable by death or worse, and she had no wish to leave the only home she could remember, but each day it became harder and harder to resign herself to such a fate. Her mistress was friendly enough, in a superior sort of way, when they were alone, but failed to acknowledge Mollia's existence in company unless she failed to carry out one of her myriad duties. Slaves were not considered people. There was a wandering minstrel who often stopped to entertain the Lord and his family when he was in the area, and he alone perhaps of all men treated the poor girl as if she might actually have a soul. She looked to him as she might to her lost father, though their meetings were short and irregular. Such were the tales he told in song! They stirred her very heart and almost gave her the courage to think of running away and seeking such an adventure for herself. Her mistress made a disgusted sound at having to draw the distracted servant back from wherever her mind had wandered.

"Are you ready or must I miss the ball because you are too preoccupied to assist me?" demanded her lady. Mollia blushed crimson and quickly finished her preparations for the ball. They departed in the coach not long after with the required retinue of soldiers and servants for such an outing. They arrived at the castle and Mollia attended her lady as they made their grand entrance. While they waited for the festivities to begin, her ladyship and Mollia stood about with the other young women, gossiping in a small flock near one of the tables of food. The young men stood in a similar group on the other side of the room, with each cluster often glancing furtively in the direction of the other. Mollia stood quietly with the other handmaids waiting their ladies' wishes. Finally the ball was begun and the two throngs were lost in a swirl of introductions, invitations, denials, and acceptances.

While her ladyship was dancing, a vile looking young man approached Mollia and actually deigned to speak with something so lowly as a lady's maid. "I can offer you a far greater future than ever your current mistress could," said the young man quietly. Mollia's eyes were huge but she continued to look at the floor, as was appropriate from one of her station to one of his. He continued, "I shall have you regardless, for I think your mistress will part with you for the right price." The girl remained silent but she shivered violently; the loathsome young lord seemed to find it vastly amusing. He withdrew and Mollia's mistress returned from the floor; the wicked young man asked for the next dance and was dutifully accepted.

Mollia watched them and saw the thoughtful look enter her mistress' eyes as the boy spoke his aspirations. Mollia sighed, wondering if it was not time to finally act on all those growing doubts about remaining forever a slave. Did not the Great King abhor slavery? Or at least that is what the minstrel seemed to imply in all of his stories. Was she not freeborn? She sighed, how was such as herself to escape unnoticed? But perhaps it was better to die in the attempt than to remain and find herself the rightful property of the conniving young man who currently whirled about with her mistress. These unsettling thoughts percolated through her mind as she thought of what to do, and her inattention to her duties only heightened her mistress' resolve to be done with such a distracted servant. The youth continued to court the lady and by night's end was assured that the girl would be his at whatever price.

The night ended and Mollia climbed into the coach with her mistress, who said tersely, "this shall be our last night together. I have made certain arrangements and you will soon be leaving my service. Your lack of attention to detail of late has been most disturbing and I am quite gratified that I have found someone willing to pay well for such a pathetic creature as you." She said no more all that night as preparations were made for bed. Once her mistress was asleep, Mollia knew what it was she had to do. She crept out the window and vanished into the night before that terrible boy could lay claim to her. But the boy was not content to wait until morning to claim his prize and had stationed a man to watch the house, knowing the slave might well try to flee in the night. She did not know that dark eyes watched her from the deeper shadows as she made her escape.

He knew he should leave; he should have left a month gone, but his father was sick and there was no way he was going to abandon his mother and younger sisters to work the farm alone. Gavin sighed, there was nothing he loved more than his family and working the land, but deep within he was torn asunder with the desire to leave and see what else the world might hold for him yet he could not abandon his family at such a time. His mother and the local herbalist constantly chided him for staying when it was quite obvious to everyone that he remained out of duty to his family yet he longed to be free. The healer was worse than even his mother in telling him to get himself gone. He laughed, it was as if they wanted to be rid of him but he knew this to be far from the truth. Could they not see that he was needed here, regardless of how much it tore him up inside? Once his father was strong enough to work, then he would leave but not before.

He stopped hoeing and leant upon the instrument with one arm as he raised the other to wipe the sweat from his brow. The morning was only just begun but already it promised to be a scorching day. A movement at the edge of the field caught his eye and he could vaguely see some large black shape, vaguely canine in feature, sniffing around the field's edge. He called to his own dog to chase the cur off lest it pester the sheep, but the poor creature had slunk away in dread at first scent of the strange beast. Gavin grumbled under his breath about worthless dogs but when he turned his attention again to the beast, it was gone. He shrugged and returned to his hoeing. He went in to lunch and mentioned to his mother that he had seen a strange dog about the place.

The healer, who had just emerged from the room where his ailing father lay, froze and said, "tell me exactly what it was you saw." The boy described again the scene as best he could remember. His mother cast a fearful glance at the healer, who then said, "boy, you are leaving now whether you will or not. That is no common dog but a spy of the Dark One and it seems he is upon your scent. If you love your family, you will flee now else they too will suffer. Go!" Such were the words of the strange woman that he was halfway out the door before he turned back to try arguing, but his mother only handed him a small sack with some rudimentary supplies for a journey and tears in her eyes.

She said gently, "for all our sakes, but most of all your own my son, you must do as she says." He nodded grimly and set out immediately with no idea as to his destination but knowing he could no longer remain at home. The dog had vanished upon catching his scent and its masters would soon follow.

The dark shadow ghosted after the girl until they were well away from anyone that might hear. His master was determined to have the girl and have her he would. They were upon a secluded road deep within a wood with only the lonely moon looking on to give witness to this tragic night. He leapt from the bushes behind the girl and clasped one hand over her mouth and placed the other firmly around her waist. He was not quick enough to stay the shriek of pure terror that escaped her lips before his hand muffled her screams.

"Silence wench," growled the man, "or I shall silence you permanently." He said no more, for his threats were drowned out by the approach of pounding of hooves. The man dove into the brush, leaving the terrified girl alone upon the moonlit path. The rider pulled up suddenly and Mollia could see his drawn sword glinting in the soft glow of the moon.

He glanced around quickly for danger and asked, "was it you who screamed lady?" She nodded dully, not quite believing herself worthy of such a rescue. He slid quickly from his saddle, for he thought her faint with fright, but as he hit the ground, the dark man quickly set upon him with his own sword. The stranger was no novice to this sort of fighting and was not to be taken by surprise. He raised his blade in time to prevent the fatal blow and soon was lost in a swirl of steel and death. The dark man was soon overcome and lay breathing his last upon the ground, dark with his own blood. The newcomer said grimly to the girl, "what has transpired here my lady? Who would dare such an outrage?"

The girl said quietly, "you fight for the honor of a slave my lord, and worse one who has run away."

The man was silent for a moment and said, "nay lady, you are as free as I. Men can call one another slaves but what is that but a name? It makes you no less a person than any freeborn man. I will help you escape this and all your enemies, perhaps even slavery itself. Who is he and what is your sad tale?"

She sighed, "I know him not, but my mistress was set to sell me on the morrow to a most sinister looking young lord. I ran away to escape that fate, dreading it worse than death."

The young man searched the corpse of the dark man and gasped, "this is one of the most faithful servants of Lord Murdock. The young brute is thought to have murdered his father to gain his title prematurely though none can prove it. He must have been sent to take you one way or another. What could such a bestial man want with you my lady? It could mean nothing good. Come, we will escape while we may this night with none the wiser." He helped Mollia into the saddle before him, hid the body and the marks upon the road as best he could, and after climbing into the saddle, they vanished as swiftly as the horse could run.

Gavin walked as far as he could each day before finding a place to hide and sleep once the evening shadows had thickened into night; he rose well before the sun to continue his journey. He knew something pursued him, if distantly. He had no notion of direction or destination save that he was drawn vaguely north. As the days ran on and his food ran out, his original dread began to lessen as he pondered going home, but something always spurred him on. He had gone three days without food when he came to a small village as the sun was setting. He knew he could not go on indefinitely without food and hoped someone in the village might take pity on a poor wanderer, but it was not likely with the current state of the world. He would be lucky to be chased out of town by the distraught townsfolk, who would certainly dislike the look of a hulking stranger. But he was desperate and willing to take the risk.

He came to the last house in the village, shut tight for the night, and knocked upon the door; it was opened by an aging man, who opened it minutely and said, "yes?" The boy cleared his throat to speak, but no intelligible words came forth. The man looked closer at the distraught youth and could see he was pale and wan with hunger and fatigue. He sighed, he could not leave the poor boy to faint upon the doorstep just because he was a stranger. He said, "you had best come in and have some supper lad, ere you drop." Gavin's eyes widened in surprise but he smiled faintly as the man helped him into an empty seat at the crowded table. There were five children and three adults besides himself in the room. The eldest boy was his own age. He thought it must be a family with the ragged old man being a grandfather or bachelor uncle or some such. The old man looked over the tired youth and a slight smile crossed his lips.

The woman looked the boy over and knew immediately what he needed. She soon returned with water for washing and also for drinking. Soon everyone was lost to any attempt at conversation as they ravenously devoured the meal and then, as the men lit their pipes, the talking could begin anew. "Now lad," said the man, "where are you from and where are you going?"

The boy shrugged, "I live a brisk two-week walk to the south and am heading north. Why, I do not rightly know, but I cannot remain at home. I would rather stay at home to tend my ailing father and mind the farm, but alas I have been driven from home for fear that some foul fate might befall myself and my family unless I flee."

"What prompted your flight?" came the reedy voice of the old man.

The boy shrugged, "a strange dog was sniffing around the farm and the local healer thought it was an ill omen or something and sent me packing the minute she heard the news."

"Have you encountered any trouble along the way?" asked the old man.

"None," said the boy, "save hunger and weariness but I do not think I escaped pursuit."

"No," said the old man, "I fear you have not. Such hunters do not easily, if ever, give up their prey."

Kyan said quietly, "I think it is time also that I left. Would you mind company?"

Gavin laughed, "I would love a companion but who willingly throws himself into the path of certain doom?"

Kyan shrugged, "I never claimed to be wise, but would you deny a fool his dearest wish?"

Gavin smiled, "suit yourself." The old man eyed the boy's parents, they nodded grimly but would not hold Kyan back. They both knew it was time. In the night, a hound bayed.

The hair on the back of everyone's neck stood up as the old man said grimly, "I fear boy, you have doomed us all. The boys had best leave before we all fall afoul of the brute and his masters."

"Take the horses," said Kyan's father, "and ride for all you are worth. That is no mortal dog!"

The boys exchanged a look but wasted no time in running for the barn and saddling the two horses therein. They were quickly in the saddle and galloping headlong into the night, heedless of the unseen dangers that might swiftly end their flight, for the danger behind was far worse than any low branch or hole in the road.

"Will they make it?" asked the woman in fear.

The old man said, "only the King can save them now."

"What is it?" screamed Gavin to Kyan as they rode like madmen.

Kyan yelled back, "I think it is called a Fellhound. The stories say that certain men give their souls to the Dark Prince in exchange for mastership of such a beast. You cannot kill the man; you must kill the dog and then his master shall vanish from the earth. But then, they say no living man can kill such a fiend either. They are relentless in their search and once they have your scent they will not give up until you are destroyed or they are."

Gavin growled, "then why run if there is no hope?"

Kyan laughed wildly, "would you rather surrender and face their mercy? I think I would rather run." Gavin did not respond but urged his horse on, recklessly into the night. Kyan continued, "what did you do to earn the wrath of such a beast?"

Gavin said, "I have no idea. I just knew I should have left home long ago and was forced to flee by the vile thing."

Just when they felt their horses could go no further, they pulled up sharply and drew rein to face the brute head on rather than to be taken from behind. They could see the hound as a darker shadow moving in the night with two eyes that burned like flame; the stench of death was strong about him. The horses whinnied in fear but were too exhausted to run. They awaited death with their riders. The brute opened his mouth and let loose a howl that chilled all mortal flesh to the bone. A man shaped shadow materialized out of the darkness and drew forth a sword of equal blackness. He said, "two? Now that is a surprise but my master will be pleased. Surrender and I shall spare your lives, else I shall let the beast have his way with you."

The boys exchanged a brief, grim smile and Kyan said, "I would rather face the beast than the mercy of his master."

"As would I," laughed Gavin grimly.

"So be it," sneered the dark man. He drew his arm back and made a chopping motion with his upraised sword. The hound growled deep in his throat and approached at an ominous pace. Suddenly the hound froze and whined in terror while the man screamed in utter despair. A blinding light appeared for a moment and then just as suddenly vanished, leaving the exhausted boys and horses alone in the dark. There was nothing to be seen of either the hound or his master. The boys exchanged a horrified look but not lacking in joy. They slid from their saddles and tended to their weary beasts before curling up and sleeping in the very spot where they had stayed their flight.

The crunch of hooves on stony dirt awakened the boys from their exhausted sleep. They sprang to their feet, ready to again face death, only to find themselves confronted by a milk white young woman astride a great stallion with a finely dressed youth behind her. The man drew rein and slid from his saddle, after handing the reins to the girl and saying, "if things go ill my lady, flee for you life." The boys took a step back from the armed stranger but he left his sword in its sheath. "Who might you be and why do your poor beasts look as if they were run near to death?" asked the finely clad stranger.

Kyan said, "if you mean no harm, which I assume by your treatment of the lady, I think we can safely tell you."

Gavin laughed, "perhaps he will be less intrigued by strangers in future, once he hears our news."

The stranger smiled, "I would be honored to hear of your nocturnal adventures and then I shall regale you with our own."

Kyan said, "we were chased to this very spot by a Fellhound and were upon the brink of death when a miraculous light appeared, into which both the hound and his master vanished."

The stranger gasped, "that is a story indeed! Our tale is far less dreadful. I rescued the lady from one intent on doing her harm in the small hours of the night and have only managed to flee this far ere pursuit follows."

"We are coming with you," said Kyan firmly. Gavin nodded in astonishment.

The young man shrugged, "have it your way but you are falling from danger into danger I fear."

Kyan laughed, "what can be worse than facing a fellhound?"

The young man said darkly, "there are many worse things for which mortal men have no names, for none have faced such terrors and lived. I am Prince Bayard and this is the Lady Mollia."

"A prince!" gasped all three peasants together.

Bayard smiled, "at least I was until I fled home. My elder brother of course wishes for the crown and fears any competition. One of my brothers has already died mysteriously in a hunting accident and I think my own doom was near to hand if I had remained at home. Though it seems that perhaps even upon the road I am doomed. But let us away my friends, ere worse befalls us while standing idle like women gossiping in the marketplace. We will not press your poor beasts hard but we will go as fast as we can in their condition." All easily agreed and they were quickly on their way, none quite knowing where they were going or why but quite excited by the prospect.

As they rode, Kyan asked, "and where is it we are going?"

Bayard shrugged, "we ride north, for things are said to be less dismal there as you are farther from the holdings of the Dark Prince."

Gavin said, "north sounds fine to me, but what is it that awaits in the north? It is said the lands of men eventually dwindle until only wilderness remains, wherein all sorts of strange creatures are said to dwell."

Kyan laughed for joy, "but beyond are the Brightlands where the Great King is said to reign with such peace and justice that mortal mind cannot fathom it."

Mollia broke in, "but I thought mortals could not ever see that bright country? No one can survive the Wildlands and if they do, the Mountains of Shadow stand firmly in the way."

Kyan nodded, "truly spoken but still my heart yearns to look upon those dreaded peaks."

"As does mine," said Gavin.

Mollia laughed, "mine too."

Bayard shook his head in amusement, "then north it shall be. Can any of you famed adventurers use a sword?" The three shook their heads. Bayard nodded grimly, "not that we have weapons to spare but it would be useful in the last defense. We shall do our best then, but our chances are grim on this insane venture, but I would not miss it for the world." The others nodded in happy agreement.

They traveled for several days without incident and began to wonder if perhaps they had eluded anyone that might be following, but those in pursuit would not give up their prey, though the four had no idea why anyone would bother expending such effort in hunting down such as they in the first place. Evening was falling and they were coming upon a village wherein the prince hoped to replenish their meager supplies. He left the others on the edge of the village with strict orders to ride hard if he did not return in a timely fashion. He sought out the tradesmen who dealt in such things as he desired and soon found what he needed and was making his way back to where the others were hidden. when he turned suddenly and saw a small black form winging its way quickly into the darkness. He turned and ran back to their hiding place, quickly stowed his provender, and was soon in the saddle and urging the others to follow.

Kyan asked, "what is it?"

Bayard said, "I just saw a crow fly off into the forest."

Gavin asked, "what is so wrong about that."

Kyan said, "a Spy?"

Gavin sighed, "not more undead minions of the Dark One!"

Bayard smiled grimly, "exactly. They can go about as men or take the form of a crow or raven. Ever are they watching for those who oppose their master and summoning help from all manner of their fellow minions; it could be an interesting night." The horses were still in poor shape from their exhausting run only a few nights before; it was not long before they were stumbling in exhaustion. Bayard sighed, "it makes no sense to kill the horses. We had best find a place to hide and prepare for our last stand."

The boys agreed but sent Mollia on ahead, mounted on the Prince's horse, while they prepared for what was to come. They had not long to wait. The creaking of a saddle was heard and the glowing eyes of a horse-like creature could be seen in the darkness. "Now what?" whispered Gavin to Kyan.

Kyan sighed, "I think it is a Wraith."

"Lovely," sighed Bayard, "it does not really matter that you cannot use a sword, as mortal blades are useless against the things."

"What can kill them?" asked Gavin.

Kyan said, "they can wield all sorts of horrible magic and nothing can destroy them that I am aware of."

"My master will have you," croaked the voice of the creature, "else you will die."

Bayard shouted, "we shall live and die freemen, Wraith! Be gone from this place."

"You shall die regardless, wretch," grated the monster, "it is the others my master wants. You are utterly worthless. Surrender, and your friends might perhaps be spared."

Gavin laughed, "a worse fate I could not wish upon them." The thing made a noise deep in its throat but whether it was laugh or growl, none knew. It approached as ominously as the hound and this time there was no flash of light to save them.

Instead a bright arrow, like a bolt of lightning, pierced the creature's chest and it vanished with a howl in a puff of smoke; its riding beast fell to pieces upon the demise of its rider. They crept from the dell in which they had hidden themselves and were quickly gone from that place and in pursuit of Mollia. Bayard gasped, "twice now you have escaped death by miraculous means! You are certainly being hunted but for what purpose? And who would go to such lengths to defend you?" The boys could only shake their heads in wonder.

Mollia had not gone far and was joyfully reunited with her friends. They found a place to spend the night and then continued on the next day. Ever they moved northwards and ever the thought of pursuit gnawed at the back of their minds, but no more villains revealed themselves until the habitations of men were left far behind and one began to wonder if it was not man himself who was the myth, for in the Wildlands anything and everything might actually be real.

"What do you know of this place?" asked Gavin of Kyan one day as they rode steadily north.

Kyan thought for a moment and said, "just what the wandering storyteller has told me. The Wildlands are inhabited by all manner of strange and wonderful beasts, most of which are unknown to mortal men. Most are simply beasts but there are certain creatures that have a mind of their own. The dragons, unicorns, and griffins found here are certainly thinking peoples."

Mollia asked, "you truly think unicorns exist? That would be wonderful!"

Bayard said, "only if they are on the side of the Great King. They have a choice as much as we in choosing whom, if anyone, they will serve. There are fallen unicorns as well as fallen men. The same is true for the dragons and griffins and I would hate to meet any of the three of an evil tendency. There are of course those that side with the King, and these would be quite wondrous to meet, but there are also those of a more selfish nature who side with neither the King nor his Enemy and simply live for themselves, as do the majority of men. These I think, would not be so pleasant to encounter."

Mollia was nearly in tears, "to think such a thing as a unicorn could go wrong!"

Kyan smiled sadly, "it is the way of all life, dear heart. We all must be allowed to choose else what is the point of having a mind? If we may choose our own fates, some are bound to choose foolishly, to their own destruction. Just make sure when the time comes, you have chosen wisely yourself." Suddenly the horses screamed and set to bucking with such a fury that the four were quickly on the ground and facing one of the creatures of whom they had just been speaking.

A female griffin, covered in fur and feathers of a thousand shades of red and brown, sat before them with a look of utter disdain on her face. She growled, "and what have I to do with you?"

The four exchanged a mesmerized look and Bayard said, "we beg your pardon my lady if we have trespassed unknowingly upon your territory."

She growled, "I was stalking a deer, which the four of you carelessly scared away with your inane babble. I should take one of you as a prize instead. What have you to say to that?"

Kyan said carefully, "that it is unwise to consume a fellow thinking creature."

She cocked her head at the presumptuous little creature and said, "I suppose you are right, but I do not promise to spare your horses." She took to the air and vanished after the fleeing horses.

The foursome, now afoot, exchanged a relieved but horrified look and continued their journey, albeit having lost most of their supplies and moving much more slowly. "Where exactly are we going?" asked Bayard the following day, after all sorts of monstrous shapes and howls had moved or sounded in the night. "If we continue on like this I fear the next creature we meet will not be sated with horseflesh."

Kyan said, "of course you are right, but now that I have come this far I will not be gainsaid. I must continue on, regardless of my end."

Gavin and Mollia nodded their agreement; Bayard smiled good-naturedly and said, "then to whatever end, I shall go with you my friends." They exchanged an amused laugh, which was quickly cut short by the sound of swords being pulled forth and the horrible cry of some tortured creature of vaguely equine visage.

Kyan said quietly to Gavin, "we must really be important to bring a Dreadlord this far north."

Bayard smiled grimly, "anyone have another miraculous rescue handy, else this fight might be short? I could perhaps distract the Dreadlord for a moment but ten Soldiers are a little beyond my ability to handle."

The Dreadlord laughed horribly, as only such a creature can; he was all in black armor with naked bone peeking through the gaps and two eyes like angry coals burning deep within the stygian depths of his helmet. "This is your last chance vermin," croaked the monstrosity, "surrender to my master and be rewarded, else you shall die horribly."

Trying to stall, Kyan said, "what exactly does your master want with the likes of us?"

The creature sneered, "you will give him all your soul and native talents, which he then augments with his own fell powers; you will do his bidding to end this war that rages between the rebel King and himself. All will bend knee to him one day. Those who do so willingly shall gain significant reward while all others will find themselves forever lost. Come now and do what you know you must."

Bayard said quietly, "as it seems I am of the least value to these creatures, you three had best try and run while I distract the monster."

Kyan gasped, "but you cannot defeat it."

Bayard smiled grimly as he drew his sword, "I said distract not defeat, now run!"

The three exchanged a horrified look, but wasted no time in scattering in three directions in the moment that Bayard had bought them. The Soldiers stared on blankly, being little more than animated corpses, dependent upon the Dreadlord for all conscious thought, but the Dreadlord was busy with Bayard and for a moment his concentration lapsed, allowing the fugitives to temporarily escape. It was the work of merely a moment to overcome the minor irritation that Bayard proved to be, and then it was simply a matter of choosing which of the fled children to follow. He sent two soldiers after Mollia and Kyan but chose to go after Gavin himself with the remaining Soldiers.

Bayard lay gasping, forgotten on the ground. He was of no value to the Dreadlord, at least not compared to the others. He had run madly at the creature with sword bared but it had deflected the blade as if he were a boy of three with a stick. It had then dealt him several terrible blows before following after the others and leaving him to die of his wounds, even in its haste it would not grant him the mercy of a swift death. His vision swam and he could not concentrate for the pain.

"Are you just going to lie there?" came a strangely calm voice that seemed on the verge of joy or song.

"Does he really have a choice?" came a higher pitched voice with a certain horsy inflection.

"Come boy," said the masculine voice again, "there is much to be done and such courage should not be wasted."

Bayard gasped, "how?"

The equine voice said, "he still lingers in mortality; he cannot yet heed you."

The man said, "just let go lad. There is no point in fighting the inevitable and the longer we wait, the less help we are to your friends."

Bayard said weakly, "you want me to give in to death?"

The horse whinnied a laugh, "I would not exactly call this meager existence life. Come, time wastes!"

Bayard was not sure what exactly they were talking about or even if they were real but the time had come, whether he wished to fight any longer or not. His eyes stared blankly and his entire form went limp, but the darkness held him only a moment and then he was beyond it, to something quite incomprehensible to those that yet linger this side of death. He stood beside himself, paying no heed to the stiffening corpse that was once his mortal coil, but instead looked upon a man, perhaps in his late twenties, dressed all in white and clad in silver armor. A great winged horse stood beside him, as if she had all eternity to do nothing but stand there patiently.

The world suddenly lurched around them, as if it were less real than they, and suddenly they stood on the brink of a sea. White coastline ran forever in either direction, great crags of rock towered beyond sight into the heavens: their living stone was every color of blue and grey beyond imagining and their base was lost in a verdant skin of forest, meadow, river, and lake. The sea itself was ten thousand shades of blue and green yet clearer than the best glass while little specks of light, like trapped sunshine, played beneath its calm surface. A light like morning was coming from beyond the sea, yet there was no sun to be seen, for it emanated from the Brightlands, where dwelt the Great King, Who was light enough for all His realm and all beyond.

The man said to the boy, "now you must decide whether to cross the sea and enter the Brightlands or whether to cross the Mountains of Shadow and come again to the Greylands, there perhaps you can lend aid to your friends. In the Master's country is true peace and joy beyond mortal comprehension, but once you have gone thither you cannot come back again until He comes forth to end the war and put the world back as it ever should have been. But if you cross the Mountains, again you may know pain and sorrow but you can continue the fight against the Dark Prince and his minions, which you have already begun. The choice is yours."

Bayard looked longingly across that sea but then said simply, "I want to help my friends and all others oppressed by the minions of evil. What must I do?"

The man smiled, "immerse yourself in the sea and we will then be on our way."

The boy nodded and with both joy and trepidation, flung himself into the sea. He stood and found himself clad as the man and gone were all his doubts, fears, sorrows, and the like. He knew he had once made mistakes in his life and had done or left undone things that should have been otherwise. He knew such mistakes should have forever branded him a rebel and a traitor against the King Whom he now served, but he also knew that his Master's love and grace could wash away such stains, if he would humble himself and allow it to be so. If he remained proud and unrepentant, he would be counted a rebel and face eternal darkness away from Him who was the source of all light and joy and music.

"You will have to ride with me," said the man, "as your appointed companion has decided to become something of a rebel himself."

The mare snorted in disgust and grief, as if such a thing were not done among her people. She allowed both men to mount, and with one sweep of her great wings, they were beyond the mountains and again in the Wildlands, where the Dreadlord was tracking down the three survivors. As they landed, Adrian said, "while serving this side of the Mountains, we may find ourselves in various guises. Sometimes mortal again, at least in form, sometimes visible to mortal men, sometimes not. We can fight those creatures that have bound themselves irreversibly to the Dark One, against whom mortal blade is useless, but we cannot harm living creatures. Mortals can cause us momentary discomfort but cannot harm us. The undead minions of the Enemy can cause us grievous harm and banish us again beyond the mountains from whence we must set forth anew. If ever you weary of this life, simply cross the sea and leave all behind but you can come not back again until the end of time."

"What interest does the Dark Lord have in my friends, that he goes to such pains to capture them?" asked Bayard of Adrian.

Adrian smiled knowingly and said, "they have within themselves great power that yet sleeps, but soon it must waken and their lives will never again be the same. Each must choose whom they will serve and if they choose the darkness, great sorrow will come to many, if they choose themselves they will not much affect the course of human affairs but will rue it themselves one day, and if they choose the King, then they can be of great service to His cause, which is also ours."

Bayard sighed, "that is about all I knew before."

Adrian laughed, "we are not all knowing or meant to be so. That prerogative belongs to the King alone. What we need to know will come when we need it. I will leave you to defend your friends. Seek out the Dreadlord first and then the Soldiers will be no more a threat to anyone."

Bayard was about to ask what had come of the Wraith and the Fellhound, but already he knew the answer: they had been slain by such as himself, though unseen by mortal eyes. He wondered how he was going to find the creature, when suddenly he realized he already sensed in which direction it lay. Adrian watched in amusement before he and the mare suddenly vanished on other errands. Bayard could move as swiftly as thought and neither tree nor cliff could hinder his progress. The Dreadlord was nearly upon Gavin, who had taken up a stick in hopes of somehow avoiding what seemed inevitable. Bayard drew his own blade, the sound of which caused the Dreadlord to turn and stare in astonishment. The Soldiers, which had been about to surround the hapless boy, were suddenly ordered to swarm this new menace.

In the moment it took them to change direction and come towards this new threat, Bayard was upon the Dreadlord, who fretted and growled in his own fell tongue, before falling to a stroke to the chest, but Bayard did not escape unscathed, for even as he pierced the Dreadlord's chest he felt the creature's blade burning again like ice within his own. The Dreadlord fell to ash and charred bone while Bayard vanished in a flash of blinding light. The Soldiers stopped their advance and stared like the mindless statues they now were without the Dreadlord to think for them.

Gavin stared in astonishment. He felt himself well and truly doomed, when suddenly the Soldiers and Dreadlord all seemed to go mad, and then the monster fell to pieces and the Soldiers stood stiff and dumb as posts. He thought for a moment of turning back to see what had come of Bayard but he knew there could have been but one outcome. Instead, he followed the now irresistible urging of his heart to move further north towards the mountains. He wondered vaguely what had come of the others but knew that now their paths must part and each must find his or her own place in the world or beyond it.

Mollia ran for all she was worth, knowing full well that two of those horrid skeletal soldiers were in close pursuit. Her heart ached for Bayard but she had little doubt that she would soon be joining him. She was not one who knew much of woodcraft, for her lady despised anything wilder than a well-tended garden. Branches caught at her face, hair, and dress, which only increased her panic, for she thought perhaps her enemies had come upon her. Finally she collapsed in exhaustion, knowing she could go no further without a rest. She waited, but no attack came. Having finally caught her breath, she turned and stared in amazement, for the two skeletal figures stood not six feet away but made no move to take her. She stood and cautiously approached the frozen pair, who paid her no more heed than a fence post might. She shook her head in wonder, deciding to continue on as far as she could before the fiends found a second wind and could begin the chase anew.

Her heart drew her north, but she could not continue on without at least seeing what had come of the others. She was a poor tracker but the heavy boot prints of her pursuers were easy enough to follow in the soft dirt after the rain of the previous night. She cautiously returned to that fateful hill and found there what she dreaded but knew must certainly be true. There was no sign of Gavin or Kyan and she prayed they had escaped but there lay poor Bayard, dead and already beginning to stiffen. She crawled to his side and wept as if her heart might break; who was she that he should die for her sake? Her tears stopped abruptly and horror grew in her heart as evil laughter filled the air. She looked up into the nearly human eyes of a Wraith, at least they would have been human had they not been more lifeless and cold than those of the corpse over which it towered.

"Lost a friend now have you?" sneered the cruel voice of the creature, "Perhaps my master can give him back to you if you promise to bend knee to the Dark Prince. Else you can simply die."

"Your master has no such power and even if he did, I would never side with you," said she in a voice with more courage and firmness than she felt she had ever possessed.

"We shall see," said the creature, as he drew a wicked knife from some hidden place and moved towards kneeling girl and her deceased friend. She backed away, instinctively repulsed by the overwhelming evil of his presence, but his interest was not in her at the moment. He knelt beside Bayard and said, "see the true power of my master, who can bring again life from death!" He began to chant in some foul language and as he did so, he used the knife to cut the heart from the chest of the dead man. He held the cold organ in his hand for a moment, then a black flame engulfed it and it vanished in a wisp of acrid smoke. Mollia watched in curious horror as the chanting ceased and the once stiff body began to move anew, but not with any semblance of natural motion. It was as if it were a puppet controlled by one new to the art. "Behold," snarled the Wraith, "it lives!"

Mollia said quietly, "that is not life but a mockery of it. You have done nothing but make a dead body move once more, but there is no soul or life within. This thing is not my lost friend but simply another puppet soldier that moves at the whim of its masters but cannot think for itself."

He growled, "you see much girl but alas that is all you shall do. If you will not bend to my master's will then you shall die." The Wraith smiled wickedly as the newly animated Soldier took up Bayard's sword and approached the terrified girl. The Wraith cooed, "now will you submit or will you die at the hands of one whom you once called friend?"

She backed away slowly from the monstrosity, as the Wraith laughed in anticipation of what was to come. But the Soldier did not strike; for a moment it stared dumbly at something Mollia could not see and then fell to pieces like a dried out old skeleton. The Wraith said something in that fell language and a black flame shot from his hand towards nothing that Mollia could see. At first triumph and then horror were written on the creature's face, before it vanished in a puff of smoke. Mollia turned and ran from that cursed hill and finally let herself travel north, whither her heart led her.

Bayard watched her go with a smile on his face before he suddenly vanished. He had awakened on that same beach with one foot caressed by the waves and the rest prone upon the sand. He climbed to his feet and was not surprised to find Adrian and his mount waiting. The man laughed, "we cannot forever be waiting your pleasure lad! You need to find wings of your own. But come, your friends are not yet out of danger." He crawled aback the mare behind Adrian and again they were suddenly where they needed to be. The pair had vanished and Bayard wondered what he was meant to do alone atop this forsaken hill with only his mortal remains for company. He had not long to wait however, for Mollia soon came creeping up the side of the hill and from the other side came a Wraith. He watched in fascination as the creature worked its witchery but wasted no time in destroying its handiwork. It then tried to destroy him but he easily dodged the black flame and struck at its source.

Kyan hastened north, as that was the direction his heart drew him, but he knew he was not alone. Two soldiers were not far behind, but unlike Mollia, he knew a thing or two about the woods. His pursuers had not the advantage of thought and therefore could do nothing but chase, capture, and destroy. Kyan took to the trees and thought to out climb the creatures but they could move like squirrels if they had need. Kyan sighed and dropped again to the ground. He jumped a narrow gorge and took up a large stone. The monsters followed easily but while the foremost was in midair he threw the stone and caught it square in the head. It fell into the gorge but climbed out as easily as a rodent leaves its burrow.

Kyan wasted no more time and set himself to run as far as he could before falling to the monsters, but he had not gone far when he realized they had stopped in mid-stride and looked like homely scarecrows. He gaped, but wasted no more time and continued north as fast as he could maintain over a long distance. Kyan wandered for several days, ever pressing north, eating what he could scrounge from the land, and drinking and sleeping wherever he found the chance. He had not encountered any more minions of evil or even any of the fierce creatures rumored to lurk in such a place. He found himself very much alone but ever the mountains grew larger in the distance and ever his heart yearned to stand at their feet and discover what secrets they held.

He wondered if he would starve to death long before he ever reached the base of the peaks, but a village suddenly appeared ahead of him as he rounded a curve in the path. He had thought all these lands abandoned, what was this outpost of civilization doing in such a forsaken place? He hurried his steps to reach the village before nightfall and was soon in its midst. It was the strangest village he had ever seen. There were no people about on last minute errands before the light failed. There was no talk or music or light from what appeared to be the inn. The houses all stood forlorn and seemingly abandoned, some with sagging roofs or blankly staring windows. Here a door hung on its hinges and there a chimney leaned wildly on the verge of collapse.

Kyan sighed and wondered what this place was and how long it had been abandoned and who it was that had been crazy enough to try living in such a place. He thought perhaps he might find some forgotten food or supplies, but otherwise had little hope for much else from the forgotten village. He went from house to house and ransacked drawers and cellars but came away with nothing but dust. Anything of value had long since fallen to dust or thieves. He did not wish to spend the night in such a place.

"What is it you seek?" came a curious voice.

"I do not know," said Kyan in calm reply, "answers, I suppose. I know neither my past nor my future yet my heart drives me to this forgotten place in search of things I do not know."

A woman in her middle years stood in the road alongside what once was the village green but was now overgrown with bramble and briar. She nodded sagely and said with a slight smile, "is not that the quest of every beating heart? To discover who we are and our purpose in life? What is your purpose boy? Whom do you serve?"

"Whom do I serve?" asked the boy with a confused look, "What do you mean?"

She laughed, "that question will dominate your destiny and perhaps many shall rue that choice, or rejoice in it. But the choice is yours." He began to ask another question but she was gone, as if she had never been. He shivered, and not from the cool of the night. He moved away from the haunted village, seeking a less dismal place to spend the night.

"Your friends are safe," said a magpie, sitting in a tree not far from where Bayard stood, "at least as safe as they can be in their current situation. They must fend for themselves for a time and meet what fate awaits them. Now there are others in need of your aid."

Bayard was not at all surprised to find himself suddenly standing in a summer wood or at being addressed by a talking bird. What did surprise him was that he felt such reverence and awe in the presence of this bird that he wished with all his being to go to one knee before it, yet he could not bend knee to the creature, though he focused his entire will to do just that. The bird squawked, "do not be ridiculous child, I know very well your heart. Perhaps such a thing is natural but certainly not conducive to your mission. Do not look silly and endanger your quest for no reason."

He bowed his head in submission and felt much more comfortable in the presence of this seeming bird, but still on the verge of being swept away by an inexorable tide of power he could not begin to fathom. This was no mere bird. The bird smiled as if he knew the boy's thoughts, for He certainly did, and then continued, "you find yourself currently afoot and alone, which makes you far less efficient in My service than I wish you to be. Usually a Pegassi would have met you upon the Beach when you agreed to this service but alas, when asked, your intended companion refused and was henceforth banished from among his people and cast into the Greylands, where he currently resides. Of course, every thinking creature has such a choice but rarely do the Pegassi choose to exercise it thus. He also has the choice of returning to Me, or as in all else, he may serve himself or the Enemy, thus dooming himself to eternal darkness. But I will not abandon him any more than any other thinking creature to such a fate without giving him a chance to repent."

Bayard's eyes were wide, as the bird continued, "you of course shall give him that chance. He cannot know that you are anything but another man, thus you find yourself in mortal guise once more. Find him, urge him to return to Me, and then the rest must be up to him."

Bayard said, "and if he chooses to remain a rebel?"

The bird shook His head sorrowfully, took wing, and suddenly vanished. Bayard sighed and wondered what this new adventure might portend. He vaguely wondered what would come of his friends, but he swiftly chastened his wandering thoughts and turned his entire mind towards his mission. The only affairs of the mortal world that must concern him were those that related to his immediate assignment, the rest he must give into his Master's keeping. He looked about and wondered where he was and how he was to find the poor creature. By the feel of the air, he must be in the south of the world for it was hot and heavy, even at this early hour of the morning.

He left the cover of the wood and found a decent road meandering towards a sizable market town; the throng of wagons, barrows, and people upon the road told him that it must be market day, for it seemed half the human population of the world was abroad at this early hour. He fell into step with the crowd and made his way unremarked into the town, to see what adventure might await him. He had no interest in the sellers of pottery, jewelry, household goods, food, or other more utilitarian items but he found himself drawn irresistibly to those who sold livestock. He passed the pens of geese and sheep and bawling calves. The cows and pigs drew no notice from him but those who bought and sold horses, donkeys, and mules quickly drew him thither.

He walked up and down the long line of tethered beasts but saw nothing to interest him, though his interest drew that of one of the traders. "Are you finding what you seek, my Lord?" asked the merchant with hardly suppressed enthusiasm. At such a question, Bayard finally noticed what he was wearing. He was dressed as he might have been for a day at court, an outfit hardly suitable for a day in the market.

Bayard hid his shock and said as calmly as he could muster, "I am looking for a certain beast but none of these creatures are what I had in mind. Have you anything else?"

The merchant smiled greedily and said, "these brutes are hardly worthy to pull a plow my Lord, come I shall show you a stallion truly worthy your admiration. I must warn you that he is a bit spirited and no man has yet sat upon him, but he is truly a mount worthy of kings!"

A harsh laugh greeted this statement, from a one-eyed horse dealer who said, "what he means is the brute is so mean he has killed three men and injured ten times that many. That is no horse but a demon in equine visage!"

The merchant scowled and said, "pay him no heed my Lord, he is only jealous."

Fascinated, Bayard nodded and motioned for the horse trader to lead on. They walked for a few moments and came to a round pen built of heavy logs with the stump of an ancient oak at its center, to which the most beautiful mortal horse that Bayard had ever seen was severely tied. The brute was bound with heavy rope, covering nearly every inch of his head, neck, and legs, else he would fight and try to escape. He let no man near him without a vicious bite or kick if he could manage it.

"He is stunning," said Bayard breathlessly, "but who would attempt to ride such a creature! Even this far away I can feel his wrath. It is death to go near him!"

The merchant nodded glumly, "I had hoped to finally find a buyer for him. I am about ready to have him destroyed, but it seems a tragedy to waste such an amazing creature, but he is worthless in his current state. I will give you a good price for him, but I cannot keep him any longer, for it has nearly been the ruin of my reputation as a horse broker." Bayard wondered how he could afford such a creature; he instinctively reached into his pocket and pulled forth a few coins. He placed them in the man's hand and a smile lit his face, "this is more than I had thought to get for him. Take him my Lord, and do with him as you will, but no longer let him reside in my sight." He bowed deeply and left the stunned Bayard to figure out what to do with his purchase.

Those few coins would not have bought half of the most decrepit carthorse in better circumstances; the man must truly be desperate! Now how to approach the creature without getting himself killed? Bayard smiled at the incongruity, could one already dead die once more? The answer was in his mind before the question was asked. His current body, in mortal guise, could sustain mortal damage but he himself was beyond death. The result of a fatal injury would depend upon the King's wishes and the abiding circumstances that brought it about.

He quietly entered the little palisade and let the creature see and smell him. The horse laid back his ears and showed the whites of his eyes in fury. Here was another fool courting death. Bayard however, was neither impressed nor afraid. He walked boldly up to the horse and said quietly, "I know you are angry at what has befallen you at the hands of men, and that one more human would have the gall to ask you to trust him is beyond comprehension, but that is what I ask. I will take you out of the hands of those that would abuse you, and once safely beyond the reach of your captors, I will release you if that is your wish. I ask only that you cooperate until we are safely away from prying eyes, then you may do as you please. You are certainly stronger, faster, and more powerful than I and can certainly have your way with me if I try to betray you. Will you trust me for a little while?"

The horse whispered quietly, to his own astonishment, "and why would you do this for me?"

The man did not seem surprised in the least and said just as softly, "because I cannot abide any thinking creature in chains."

The horse nodded once and the man set about loosing him. A crowd had gathered to watch the fool who was attempting to loose the notorious horse, and much to their astonishment and disappointment, the beast stood as still as stone and allowed himself to be led from the enclosure and then from the village. A flock of curious children followed at a distance but finally lost interest when the horse failed to bolt or turn on his new owner. Once they were well out of town and again nearing the little wood, Bayard turned into the copse and led the horse after him. He dropped the lead rope and removed the halter, which was the last offending piece of harness.

The horse then rolled in the grass to rid himself of weeks' worth of sweat and grime. Once he had contented himself, he said quite patiently, "now tell me how it is that you know I am no mere horse and that you would show kindness to one who might well kill you for your trouble?"

Bayard said, "perhaps one day you shall know how I knew but that secret is not mine to reveal. I have ever despised slavery and can stand no thinking creature in bonds; your freedom is reward enough."

"Come," said the horse, "there must be some service I can render you to repay your kindness to me?"

Bayard said, "all I ask is that you remember from whence you came and know that it is not yet too late to seek again that which was lost."

The horse gawked at him, "I do not know what or how you know but how can such a rebel as I be welcomed back after my pride and betrayal?"

Bayard smiled, "are not all mortals this side of the Mountains rebels and traitors yet the King ever calls us to Himself. If man can find redemption, why cannot you?"

The horse nodded thoughtfully but suddenly his ears pricked up as he said, "there is a large band of men moving along the road. I do not think it wise for us to be found. Farewell!"

The horse suddenly vanished deeper into the woods and Bayard felt a strong urge to do the same but suddenly a mounted man, likely a scout, came up behind the boy and kicked him in the head. Bayard fell forward into darkness. He wakened to find it night and himself bound to a convenient tree while a bonfire glowed in the near distance.

There were twenty ragged and heavily armed men about the camp; Bayard did not doubt he was in the clutches of a group of brigands. The captain of the small host approached and said, "well met boy! It is about time you were waking up. Now what is to be done with you? You would fetch a fine price at the slave markets, or perhaps you have kin willing to ransom you? Else you could join my merry band and spare yourself and your relations undue strain? What say you?" Bayard said nothing but stared defiantly at his captor. The man laughed, "very well, it will be the slave market for you."

Bayard gasped, "but what gives one man the right to sell another?"

The man sneered, "the right of might lad. Are you sure you have no worthy kin or did you steal those regal rags from some unsuspecting lordling drunk about town?"

Bayard said, "there are none living among mortal men that would bother trying to ransom me."

The captain laughed, "then it is the slave markets after all." He slipped into his blankets and left one of his minions to mind the prisoner until the morrow when the market square would host a slave auction.

Bayard found that he needed neither sleep nor food nor water. He did not necessarily need air either but his chest moved in the familiar rhythm of respiration so as not to arouse suspicions as to his true nature. The night passed slowly and with the morning came the crowds, this time in the business of buying and selling souls as they had traded in livestock and goods the day before. Five of the ragged band escorted Bayard once more to town. The buyers walked among the crowd of potential slaves and inspected any interesting specimens as one might a horse before purchase. A Wraith moved through the crowd and all drew back a step in fear as he passed by. He would point at one and then another of the younger men offered for sale. His gaze fell upon Bayard and he pointed at him as well. Half a dozen boys were so selected and their former owners did not dare haggle with the creature over price.

The Wraith was accompanied by a dozen human guards, all in black livery. They herded the new recruits out of town and as they marched, the Wraith snarled at them, "you have been bought and paid for by the Dark Prince, who rules all these so-called Greylands. You will either join up with the Blackguard or you will become an example of what happens to those who defy the Dark Lord." The others murmured in fear and consternation but seemed willing for this new chance at freedom, or at least a better life than they currently led. Bayard remained silent and wondered what happened to those that refused. The Blackguard was composed of those men who willingly chose to serve the Evil One. Out of their ranks came those who sacrificed their souls to become such things as Houndmasters, Wraiths, Spies, and Dreadlords. They stopped in that same eventful wood to camp for the night.

The horse saw his rescuer captured by the ragged men but knew not what to do. He could risk a rescue, which would ultimately result in his own demise or recapture, which he did not wish to risk even on behalf of his rescuer. The fool would just have to fend for himself, as did all creatures abroad in the world. A magpie lit on a branch at eye level with the horse and stared significantly with one beady eye into the great eyes of the horse. The horse snorted in disgust, "what would you have me do? I have my freedom for less than an hour and still you would have me risk everything on behalf of such as he?"

The bird squawked a laugh, "you would rather risk eternal death than mortal slavery?"

The horse sighed, "such an act could forever condemn me?"

The bird cocked His head, "nay, but it is a great step towards selfishness and pride which lead ultimately to that end. Neither can such an act, if attempted, redeem you. I alone can do that but you must be willing to let Me." The bird flew off and the horse stood gaping as he remembered the boy's words.

He was not yet beyond hope! At first he had been horrified and angry to be subjected to such a humiliating mortal existence, but finally he began to embrace the humility he had been sent forth to learn. It seemed the only way to save his soul was to grievously wound, and finally kill, his pride and selfishness, that he might submit fully to the will of his rightful Master. He sighed again, shook his head, and said to the air but knew his Lord heard, "forgive my stubborn heart and may I yet live to serve You as I ought!"

He turned then and went after the boy, only to find him insensible for much of the night and then at dawn, inaccessible within the city. About noon, Erian saw the boy again driven from the city, this time in company with the Blackguard and a Wraith. His blood ran cold but he knew what he had to do. He should be opposing such creatures, not at their mercy, as he was in this wretched mortal frame! They again returned to the wood and settled down for the night. Bayard watched the darkness, knowing something was afoot but his vigilance was interrupted by the Wraith, who demanded that they all that moment bend knee to the Dark One or else suffer the consequences. The other boys wasted no time in prostrating themselves to save their lives but Bayard stood firm and earned a cuff from the Wraith.

"Too proud to bow boy? Even to save your own hide?" snarled the Wraith.

Bayard said quietly, "I know Whom it is I serve and it shall never be your fell master."

The horse wasted no more time and galloped out of the dark, nearly trampling two of the guards in his haste. Bayard's hands were still bound, making it impossible to climb aback a normal horse, but this was no mortal horse. He went to his knees and the boy quickly flung himself onto the creature's back, clinging with his knees as the horse lunged forward and started to run.

"They will follow," said Bayard matter-of-factly.

"Let them come," laughed the horse, "I have no more fear of death, though my people should never taste of such a vile soup but such was my choice." They dashed madly into the night but pursuit was not far behind.

Bayard said, "if only my hands were not bound and I had a sword."

The horse scoffed, "even if you could deal with a Wraith, how do you expect to overcome twelve armed men?"

Bayard laughed, "I can handle the Wraith, I leave the soldiers to you."

The horse shook his head and said, "thanks, but no. I fear we both shall die this night."

Bayard said quietly, "do not greater adventures than this await beyond?"

Erian laughed, "then let us face them together."

They heard the horde coming behind, and it was not long before arrows started to fall on either side of the fugitives. Erian fell hard and screamed as several found their mark. Bayard lay pierced by two arrows and dazed by the fall. The horse gasped out with his last breath, "I am glad to have shared this adventure with you. Perhaps we shall meet again, beyond all things..." The enemy party drew rein about the dead horse and prone boy.

The Wraith scoffed, "you think you can escape me mortal? Know your folly and rue it for all time." He chanted again in that fell language and black flame soon engulfed the boy, leaving nothing but scorched earth behind while the Wraith's scornful laughter was the last thing the boy heard ere he vanished.

Bayard felt himself afire and then found himself fully submerged in that glorious Sea. He surfaced and swam ashore, where he lay panting for a time on the Beach. "You!" came a surprised but familiar equine voice. Bayard raised himself to his feet and saw a rather bedraggled horse standing at the foot of the nearest mountain and looking longingly towards what was once his home. He continued, "I had thought to return to my people or at least find myself as once I was."

Bayard said gently but firmly, "your people are lost to you. You have tasted of death and rebellion and theirs is a life unspoiled by either. You have but two choices. You can pass over the Sea into the Brightlands or take up that burden which you once refused but which is the birthright and honor of your people."

The horse sighed, "I have not yet accomplished anything worthwhile in service to the King. I shall finally accept the duty for which I was born but how can I fulfill it as such a ragged creature as I am."

Bayard said, "wash yourself clean in the sea and let us waste no more time ruing the past."

The horse raised his head and whinnied with anticipation. He dashed headlong into the sea and when he stood, he was again as he once was, save with a humbled heart and a great sense of purpose. He shook himself dry and ambled over to the boy, saying, "now we can have an adventure as we were meant to have one. Let us waste no more time here!" Bayard laughed, climbed astride the great back, and they were suddenly off on their next adventure.

Gavin found himself wandering in a wasteland of tumbled stone and the sort of weedy plants that grow in such places. He had not eaten in days and though his heart drove him ever north, he wondered what the point could be. He sat dejectedly down on a rock and wondered if he would starve before ever he discovered why he was forced to flee his home, why Bayard had to die, and why he was wandering alone in the wilderness.

"Giving up already?" came the voice of a kindly but aging woman.

Gavin looked up in surprise, "what is another living soul doing in such a place; I had thought myself the last man on earth?"

"But you are not a man," said the woman.

Gavin frowned, "boy then! Is this any time or place to dispute age and courage?"

The woman smiled, "that is not what I meant. You are human in form but that is not human blood in your veins. You have felt it. It is what drives you ever north, seeking who and what you are. It is why the Dark One hunts you. He can have men by the drove but your people are a rare treat for him and therefore he desires you above almost all others. If he could turn you to his ways, it would be a terrible thing, not only for your own soul but also for the unsuspecting world. You could of course turn your back on the weary world and live as you choose in the desolate wastes of the earth, far from the problems of men, but I think you aspire to more than that. Submit yourself to the King and you can serve well those who raised you, though some of your kind consider men less than cattle."

Gavin knew the truth in her words and asked, "what then am I?"

There came no answer, for the woman had vanished, but Gavin was not alone. A Dreadlord and half a dozen Soldiers stood at his back while the other six had circled around in front of him. The creature laughed mirthlessly, saying, "you are mine boy. I give you one last chance at life or your death shall be long and gruesome. What say you?"

Gavin sighed heavily, for it seemed no miraculous rescue was imminent. The Soldiers easily took him and their master was quite serious about his promise. After each bout of pain, the creature again demanded that he surrender himself to the Dark Lord but the boy would not give in. Finally he passed out with the pain, but not before he had the uncanny feeling of flight, but then the darkness took him and he could no longer wonder at the sensation.

Bayard and Erian had swooped in to rescue the prone Gavin before the fatal blow was struck. Faster than sight, they snatched him out of the Dreadlord's clutches and left him in the care of the same old woman he had met only a moment before his enemies were upon him. She smiled warmly in thanks but they hardly had time to notice, for they had vanished as soon as they had deposited their burden, for they were needed elsewhere.

Mollia felt as if she were walking in circles, though the mountains grew ever larger in the distance. She was ravenous with hunger and her poor dress was a ruin, but ever her heart drew her onward, if only she knew for what purpose. A crow laughed harshly above her, before taking wing and vanishing into the brush that grew thickly in the sparse wood in which she found herself. She shivered, remembering Kyan's words concerning certain crows and sensing something rather sinister about this particular specimen. Mollia stared after the creature and wondered what would be upon her next; she very nearly hoped for it all to be over, if only to end the suspense and answer all the questions whirling around unanswered in her uneasy soul.

She heard the twang of a bowstring and wondered if it could all end so quickly, after so much effort and sacrifice to stay alive it seemed rather anticlimactic. But the arrow never found its mark. Instead, Bayard suddenly lay prone at her feet. She gasped in horrified wonder as she knelt with trembling hands beside her late friend. He was warm to the touch and certainly breathing. At her touch, he stirred and tried to sit up, only to lay back and put a hand to his head, as if in confusion or pain.

"Is it really you?" gasped she.

He met her astonished gaze, started to smile sheepishly, but suddenly wore a very serious expression, saying, "I am myself, but come, it is not safe to linger. Our enemies will not be content with the chaos they have already caused. They will not rest until you are utterly destroyed. There is no time to explain. Come!"

She was too amazed to argue as he finally stood, though shakily, and helped her into the saddle of a horse that had appeared as suddenly as he had. The horse danced anxiously to be off as Bayard flung himself into the saddle behind Mollia. With unnatural speed, the beast ran in the direction that Mollia's heart ever yearned to go. She was silent in wonder and joy, at both her rescue and to have her friend returned from the grave.

Bayard's head was still spinning. One moment he had been racing to the rescue of the girl aback Erian, the next he felt something like an arrow pierce his side, and then he was prone on the ground and incredibly dizzy. From the way his body ached and the way his head swam, he felt as if he were once again a mortal man, but was that possible for one who had tasted of death and swam in the Sea? Whatever had happened, they must first get Mollia to the Quickening before even thinking about anything else. He was glad she was silent, for he was not sure how to explain things to her and he did not know half of the answers himself. He was simply a Messenger, and only a novice at that!

With Erian's speed, it was not long ere they reached the little dell wherein they had so recently left Gavin in the care of the strange woman. She stood there still but was no longer alone. The six creatures that stood about the little hollow eyed the newcomers warily; rage burned in three sets of eyes while a benign sort of curiosity and unfathomable wisdom was found in the other four, including those of the woman. Erian stopped before the august gathering, though he wore the guise of a common horse, he was in nowise winded.

"You have come at last child," intoned the woman kindly, "though not in a way any of us might have foreseen. Ayglar, I think you had best go and fetch the other before something terrible befalls him." With that, a great dragon with gleaming gold scales and purple wings took to the air and vanished towards the southwest.

Mollia slid from the back of the horse, almost having forgotten Bayard's strange appearance in the presence of such a gathering: one dragon, a brownish creature that was significantly smaller than his fled companion, remained along with two unicorns and two griffins, each of a similar contrast as shared by the two disparate dragons. One of each pair was slightly larger and strikingly beautiful, while the lesser was of some dull shade with the eyes of some wary, wild thing.

"What is this mortal doing here, witch?" demanded the lesser griffin, "I do not approve of his kind in such a place at such a time. Especially with one of our own!"

"Peace," said the woman firmly, "he has suffered much for the sake of your children; he will remain. Now my dear, you shall find your answers at last."

As she spoke, the woman approached the girl, laid a gentle hand upon the girl's forehead, and Mollia went limp, as if she had fainted, but Bayard's strong arms held her up. Not understanding in the least, he half carried, half dragged the prone girl towards the waiting creatures, at whose feet gaped three earthen hollows, looking far too much like fresh dug graves. Two gaped wide, like mouths vacant of teeth, but the third held the battered form of Gavin, still breathing but hardly recognizable after his encounter with the Dreadlord. Bayard hesitated a moment upon the brink of the nearest hollow and gazed questioningly at the woman, who nodded in encouragement. He nodded grimly and gently lowered the sleeping girl into the seeming grave. Once she was safely within, he crawled out, returned to Erian's side and watched in fascination.

The lesser griffin eyed him suspiciously and then made to leap upon the boy, but Erian dropped his disguise, rearing between the monster and his intended prey. "What are you doing!" shrieked the griffin in the shrill voice of an enraged eagle, "Why do you protect that pitiful creature? He has no right to be here! Out of my way or it will not be his blood alone that I spill."

Erian laughed in his horsy voice, "think you that you can harm me in any way? What do you have against the boy?"

The griffin snarled, "he is mortal; it is enough."

The Pegassi snorted, "were you not such yourself once?"

The griffin sneered, "only for a time. I am far beyond such weakness now. I will not have such a creature witnessing our most intimate affairs and living to betray us!"

Erian laughed, "betray you? Have you any idea what he has done to protect these younglings of yours? He got himself killed for their sake and now you think he would betray them?"

The griffin scoffed, "a likely story! If he is dead, what then is he doing wandering about as a mortal man?"

The woman spoke, "had you paid better attention to legend you might know a thing or two about such matters. Look at his eyes! He has been beyond the Mountains and tasted of the Sea. No mortal man has ever done that, which means he must not be truly of that persuasion."

The creatures did look more closely then, causing Bayard to take a step back in embarrassment at their scrutiny, but they could all see his eyes were of a strange and ever shifting blue, much like that ethereal sea beyond time. "What witchery is this then?" snarled the griffin impatiently, "I have never seen one of your King's precious Messengers ever in such a guise. Some pretend to be mortal but this creature truly is."

The woman said, more to Bayard than to the griffin, "the Arrow of Discord. It is one of the Enemy's strangest weapons and thankfully there is ever only one. Had it hit the girl, she would have been banished into eternity and ever out of the Enemy's concern. But it hit the boy instead, who was already beyond this mortal sphere. In so doing, it rendered him once again mortal, though having tasted of the Sea he can never be truly mortal, for that cannot be taken from him. As long as he lives, the Arrow cannot be used again, thus rendering it useless to our Enemy. As I said, he has suffered much on behalf of his friends. But enough of that, for here comes our final initiate."

As she spoke, the golden dragon returned, and in one foreleg clutched gently the unmoving form of Kyan. The dragon laid him gently in the last shallow hole and said, "he was attempting to climb a rather steep bank and slipped when he saw me. He hit his head but I do not think he is grievously injured, at least not as much as the other."

The woman nodded, "it matters not, as long as he yet has life in him. You have all gathered as witnesses, as is traditionally done upon such an occasion, though never have all Three Kindreds been summoned together at once. The Enemy was truly eager to have the service of or destroy each of these three, as the King certainly has something special in mind for such a strange coincidence, yet the choice is theirs. Begin."

At her words, each of the six creatures began piling flowers and leaves atop each of the three sleepers until nothing was visible but three holes filled with vegetation. They stood there in silence for many long minutes and nothing seemed to happen, but all stared intently at the holes. Finally, there came a rustling noise and the sleepy sort of sounds that one makes upon waking from a delightful nap. From each of the hollows crawled a very young and very confused member of each of the three mythic races.

As one, they turned curious eyes upon the old woman, as she said, "welcome, each of you. This is certainly a strange, but I hope joyful, moment as each of you has finally found the answer to all the riddles. You have attained your true forms. Humanity raised and nurtured you and now the question is, what will you make of your newfound strength? Choose now whom you will serve: the Enemy, yourselves, or the King?"

The three gazed at her for a moment and each joyfully said, "the King!"

She smiled and said, "so is it witnessed by all those here present. The Lesser of each race may now depart upon their own errands."

The Lesser Unicorn and Dragon shrugged and vanished quickly from sight, as if they had far more important matters to be about. The Lesser griffin growled under his breath and glared at Bayard, before also disappearing into the evening woods.

"Now," said the woman to the three youngsters, "if you are firm in your choice, then come forward and be washed in the water of the Sea. Otherwise, retreat now into the fate that awaits you."

None moved, and as she poured the water from a crystal flagon upon each head, each grew marginally and took on the bright colors of the elders of each race. The woman withdrew as each of the newly christened creatures was quickly taken aside by their conspecific elder to speak at length. The woman stood beside Bayard and the ever patient Erian. She addressed the boy, saying, "you have had quite an adventure and all for the sake of your friends. You have done well." Bayard smiled sheepishly and scuffed his boot toes in the dirt. She laughed, "it seems you remember all too well certain mortal habits."

Bayard laughed quietly, sobered quickly, and asked, "why is it that such strange and wonderful creatures must spend their infancy among mortal men?"

The woman smiled and said, "once it was not so. Long ago, after the fathers of men had rebelled against the King and had been cast beyond the Mountains to dwell in the Greylands where the Enemy ruled, some of the elders of the Three Kindreds also began to wonder what life might be like beyond the Mountains. The Pegassi alone of all the thinking races remained faithful to the King, save the rare individual, but as a race they have remained faithful. So it was that the dragons, griffins, and unicorns willingly moved beyond the Mountains and made life very difficult for mankind; they would have soon destroyed the entire race had not the King intervened.

Each of the Three Kindreds saw itself as better than mankind and therefore his rightful ruler and superior. For their pride, and for the sake of humanity itself, the offspring of each race was no longer raised among their own people, but were given into the care of mortal men, that in doing so the creature might learn compassion towards the weaker race and also humility from such humble beginnings. But finally the day must come when each of the creatures must mature and take its place among its people. Then the choice is before them: whether to serve the Dark One and lurk in the Wretched Wastes of the south and do the bidding of their dark master or to serve themselves and live free in the wildlands of the world. The other choice, as your friends have chosen, is to serve the King upon whatever errands He sends them. Like the Pegassi, they can now cross the Mountains and gaze upon the Sea, but they can also serve in mortal lands. Having once been human, they can also take again that form at need."

One by one, the Great creatures left their new kinsmen and vanished upon their own errands. Soon only the woman, the three youngsters, Erian, and Bayard remained in the little dell. All gathered around the woman in curious anticipation; they also eyed Bayard with a mix of wonder, joy, and pity. The woman smiled, "I shall leave you now, for others shall direct your paths!" Suddenly she vanished from sight but none seemed astonished or in the least concerned, for they had seen and experienced far stranger things this day.

Kyan, the dragon, sat up on his haunches and scratched his head thoughtfully, before saying, "this has certainly been a strange day! And Bayard, I fear your tale is no less odd than our own."

Erian laughed, "far stranger in fact. You three have simply woken up. This poor boy has been dead, truly alive and beyond death, and now he is stuck once more in the mortal sphere."

Mollia, the unicorn, whinnied sadly, "all for my sake, I fear."

Erian laid his ears back, "would you rather the Enemy had his way? The Master has a purpose for you and you could not accomplish it had the Arrow hit you."

She sighed, "I suppose you are right, though I still feel somewhat at fault."

"Then you would be wise to quit thinking such thoughts and focus on the quest that lies before you," said Adrian, suddenly appearing amongst them, "you each have a task to be about, and as long as any of you linger this side of the Mountains, stranger things than the Arrow might beset any of you. Now off with you."

Mollia and Gavin exchanged a startled, but not disappointed, look as each disappeared towards the south, though upon different errands. Adrian looked significantly at Kyan, who swallowed nervously, though it was strange for a dragon, even a small one, to be intimidated by a man. Adrian raised an eyebrow and the dragon shut his eyes in concentration. Suddenly Kyan stood before them once more in human guise, looking much like his old self. Adrian nodded in approval and turned to face Bayard, "I know your current situation is a bit odd, but duty calls nonetheless. Take your friend and return home. Your father needs you. Beware of your brother and the friends and advisors he has gathered around himself. Stop Ithamar from falling into utter darkness if you can. Farewell."

He then vanished, Kyan and Bayard exchanged intrigued looks as both crawled aback Erian, vanishing as swiftly as the Pegassi could run. No sooner had they set out upon their errand than they were suddenly standing in a clearing in a summer wood not far off a major road. Bayard smiled at the familiar sight and said quietly, "we are very close to the city."

Kyan asked, "what was all that about your brother?"

Bayard slid from Erian's back and said, "my brother is the crown prince of Ithamar; he has murdered our other brother and drove me from home with threats of the same. I have no doubt he wishes to claim my father's place before his rightful time, and I do not doubt that the Evil One has various minions in place, willing to aid in his aspirations of treachery. I will be recognized so must go ahead alone. You two follow or act as you feel you must."

Kyan gasped, "is that not a little dangerous?"

Bayard laughed, "you have picked the wrong profession, my dear dragon, if this little bit of family intrigue frightens you."

Kyan smiled ruefully, "I just meant, mortal that you are, you might be killed."

Bayard smiled, "I have already died once for your sake, why not risk it once more for my own family and Kingdom? Are you not a little faint hearted for the most fearsome of beasts?"

Kyan laughed, "be easy on me, I am still fairly new at this. I am just concerned that you are so...well...fragile."

Bayard snorted, "apparently you have been a dragon long enough to consider mortal men quite delicate! Before breakfast I am sure you felt quite differently."

Kyan smiled, "no, on our journey I have come to realize just how fragile mortal life truly is and am astonished what the mortal frame can endure. Just be careful."

Bayard nodded, "at least in that you are correct. I do tend to leap into danger without thinking, perhaps more often than I should."

Erian snorted, "I would think that was all of the time. We will not be far off should you need us."

Bayard exchanged a grin with his friends and then set off down the well loved path towards his former home. He felt his heart drawn north and knew the Brightlands now to be his true home, but some part of his heart would always love Ithamar, as one tends to love old childhood haunts.

Erian turned his head that one eye might stare back at Kyan, yet upon his back, and laughed, "it is rare that a Pegassi ever carries a dragon!"

Kyan smiled, "perhaps one day I shall return the favor?"

Erian laughed, "that is quite all right, my own wings are quite adequate." They watched Bayard vanish with distance and then made their own way in that direction.

Bayard crossed the open fields that surrounded the great walled city and castle of Ithamar, and tried to blend in with the crowds approaching the city upon their daily errands, but he was well enough known to some of them that they began to murmur that the errant prince had returned. By the time he reached the city gates, there was an astonished uproar commencing and the guards were impatient to quell the fuss. So much for entering the city unobserved!

The captain on duty easily recognized the errant prince and ordered four of his underlings to take the boy into custody saying, "your brother has ordered your immediate arrest should you ever return. I apologize for the inconvenience Sire, but orders are orders and right now your brother's words rank higher even than those of the King." Bayard nodded and did not struggle as they took him into custody and led him towards the castle. Erian and Kyan exchanged a worried look, but as the murmurs and confusion died away, had no difficulty entering the city unremarked.

Ervin, Bayard's elder brother, was delighted that his renegade brother had finally been apprehended and would see him immediately. Finally this loose end could be dealt with. Once Bayard was brought before the prince, he ordered the guards away and motioned for his brother to take a seat. Bayard remained standing and asked, "what has happened since you forced my flight?"

Ervin shrugged, "not much I suppose. Father still reigns in name but I am the true power behind the throne now. And with your reappearance, I might even gain the title as well; I am sure he will do anything to save your life. Of course I had it on good authority that you were dead, but as that seems not to be the case, I think I can use your reappearance to secure my power instead. Now will you agree to work with me or must I be harsh with you?"

Bayard crossed his arms and said, "you know very well I will never bow to your schemes and I will urge father to do the same! Can you not see that this will gain you nothing in the long run but ruin? Give up your vile plots and beg our father's forgiveness!"

Ervin sighed and shook his head, "stubborn as ever I see. Well, you cannot say I did not try. I do not think you will find it pleasant when a certain advisor of mine comes to ask you the same questions. He is not as patient nor as forgiving as I am." He laughed to himself and summoned the guards, saying, "toss him in the same cell with that old conjurer, they are both just as stubborn." They bowed themselves and their prisoner from his presence, dragged him away to the dungeons, and locked him in the appointed cell.

There was one small window looking out on a narrow alley but otherwise there was no light or fresh air in the cell. A hunched man of uncountable years sat on a small stool, the only furniture, in one corner and blinked in surprise; an eager delight played in his eyes as he looked upon his new roommate. Said he in some delight, "this is quite a turn of events! I am rescued at last!"

Bayard smiled, "I am sorry but I cannot rescue myself, let alone another. Who are you and what did you do to get locked away down here?"

The old man laughed with relish, "oh, I think we can conjure an escape between us. I am usually a storyteller by trade, but occasionally a worker of wonders when so blessed by my Master. The King's eldest son ordered that no one was to discuss such a topic in his Kingdom but of course I cannot keep my mouth shut, so here have I sat for the last three months without even a trial and may sit here until the end of time for all I know. Who or what are you?"

Bayard gave him an odd look, "what do you mean by what?"

The old man chortled eagerly, "I have never met a mortal man that pulses so with the Master's power, why power enough that perhaps I could borrow a little and get us out of here. But why will you not do such yourself?"

Bayard gave the old man an even odder look, "I am not currently capable of such a feat. If you have never met a mortal man that feels as I do, who or what have you met that does?"

The old man thought for a moment and replied, "I met a unicorn once and then there was another creature, he was a man in form and feature but there was nothing mortal about him."

Bayard nodded, "I think I begin to understand. What is this about conjuring and miracles and such? Are not all such spells forbidden as works of the Evil One?"

The old man shook his head, "spells and magic as such are certainly forbidden, but the working of miracles at the Master's bidding is another thing entirely. I have occasionally been blessed with such an ability but alas, I have no power in myself, I depend on the Master's power to enable me to do the least little thing and there is always some point or purpose in it. Thus I cannot miraculously escape unless the Master wills it so, so here I sit. What did you do to get tossed in with such as myself?"

Bayard said quietly, "I am the King's second son, recently returned from exile. My brother threw me in here until a certain friend or advisor of his returns, which I can only assume is some minion of evil."

The old man paled, "then we have no time to waste. I do not know what you are but we cannot allow such as yourself to fall into the hands of a Wraith. Do you mind if I borrow a little of the Master's power about you to get us out of here?"

Bayard smiled, "I have no idea what you are talking about but be my guest. I cannot do anything to help Ithamar trapped in this cell."

The man lapsed philosophical for a moment and said, "perhaps you are not even aware of it, perhaps it is something innate within your being, like life itself? Without it we cannot function but we have no overt control over it either. But enough of that, we need a means of escape." The old man raised his hands, Bayard felt a sudden weariness overcome him for a moment, and then the stone walls parted like the curtains of a tent. The old man grinned at his success and said, "come, we had better leave before we are missed. I know a friend we can stay with while we figure out how to stop your brother and his vile associate."

They vanished from the cell and made their way to the haven the old man suggested, leaving the gaping walls behind them to proclaim to all how they had escaped. It was not long after that that the Wraith made his appearance before the young prince, quite eager to deal with the boy's suddenly returned brother. "Where is the fool?" demanded the Wraith of the Prince, "Word has spread all over town that your brother has been arrested."

The Prince stretched languidly in his chair, irritated to be so informally addressed by one he considered a minion, and said grumpily, "he is in the dungeon. I had him thrown in with that old magician. I thought the two rebels could annoy one another until you had time to question my brother."

"Fool!" raged the Wraith, "Do you not know what he is?"

The enraged Prince stood at such treatment and said, "you will address me in proper tones and manner or you will cease to stand before me."

The Wraith chuckled under his breath, "idiot, do you not know who holds the true power in Ithamar, as in all the world? It is my Dark Master and his servants, not you and your feeble kind! I warned you that your brother was deep in the clutches of the Rebel King, and with his demise, has gained power enough to challenge even myself. Because of your idiocy all might be lost!" Into this tirade broke a harried guard, who explained in utter confusion that the prisoners were gone and there was a gaping hole in the wall of their cell adjacent to the street. The Wraith smiled in grim satisfaction as the Prince finally began to realize his folly.

The fugitives dashed down the street and vanished into the back alleys of the city, until they came to a little house in one of the seedier parts of town. There came a whinny of joy as a horse broke from his stall and dashed into the street. Erian drew up short as he saw Bayard was not alone, but the Messenger drew the great neck into an excited hug, though they had only been sundered a short while. Erian eyed the stranger hesitantly but then spoke, "Kyan is within. It seems we have allies in this strange town."

The little conjurer shook his head, "I wonder if anything will ever surprise me after today?"

The two men went up to the little house and knocked, while Erian stuck his head in the window. Kyan excitedly opened the door and let his friend and the little magician into the small house. A man in his middle years, still strong and vital, nodded to the little old man and eyed Bayard curiously, saying, "he certainly looks like our lost prince. Sire, we are at your service."

Bayard colored as the man rose from his bow, and said, "please, all that is long since past. Right now, we must free Ithamar from the tyranny of my brother, and worse, a Wraith. Sir, your uniform proclaims you a captain in the King's guard, is that so?"

The man smiled, "I have just come off duty but am quite ready to aid as I might."

Bayard smiled eagerly, "then this is our plan..."

Kyan said as he, the captain, and Bayard walked towards the castle, "how are we three to overthrow the Prince, a Wraith, the King, and his assorted guardsmen?"

Bayard smiled, "you shall take care of my brother, the captain shall call his men to order, and I shall deal with the Wraith."

The captain eyed the late prince skeptically, "how are you going to take care of a Wraith?"

Bayard smiled enigmatically, "just lend me a sword at the proper time."

The captain shook his head, "and how is your friend there going to overcome the Prince, especially unarmed?"

Kyan laughed, "I have arms enough to deal with him or any man. He will be no trouble."

The captain shook his head but had no choice but to trust his two insane companions, if only for the sake of Ithamar. It was not difficult to secure an audience with the King, the Prince, and his shadowy advisor. They were led respectfully into the presence of the three auspicious lords, thanks mostly to the presence of a Captain of the Guard. The King sat with terror filled eyes in a small chair off to one side. His once strong and broad frame had been reduced to that of a hunched and thin old man by the sorrows within his family of late. The Wraith stood on the other side of the Prince with a scoff upon his cold features. The tyrant prince stood in the middle, arrayed in his regal best and said, "come to plead for your lives then?"

Bayard shook his head, "no, we have come to see that your tyranny is ended. Return power to our father, repent of your sins, and face justice. Your vile advisor must leave Ithamar."

Scoffed Ervin, "and why would I do that?"

Kyan said quietly, "else you bring judgment upon yourself."

Ervin laughed, "this peasant is no judge of me! Father, if you wish your rebellious son to live, you will at this moment cede your rank and title to me."

Bayard said grimly, "nay Sire, do nothing on my account. I am beyond his power to harm or to influence."

The Wraith scoffed, "and who are any of you to think the rule of Ithamar belongs to any mortal man? It is mine and I shall rule through whichever puppet I see fit to place upon the throne. I am tired of this nonsense. If you cannot rein in your errant brother, he shall cease to be and perhaps your reign shall end with him."

"Now," said Bayard, as the captain handed him a sword, he immediately dove at the Wraith. The Wraith shrieked in rage and sent a ball of red flame at the onrushing Bayard, who ducked but was singed in its passing.

The Wraith cocked his head in triumph, the boy was no Messenger after all and therefore no threat! He had heard that the boy had fallen in the mountains at the hands of one of the Dreadlords, but if he had, he should not be wounded by mortal flames! He laughed mockingly, as the boy continued his charge, "you fool! No mortal man can hurt me! I had thought you a threat but see now that you are only pathetic..." His mockery died away as Bayard's sword struck true; the fiend vanished in a flash of darkness.

The Prince, enraged at this treachery, called for the guards but the King and the Captain ordered them to stillness. The Prince then drew his own dagger, either with the intent of killing the King, his brother, or himself but none knew, for Kyan was quick to leap upon him. The boy struggled and slashed but a dagger was of little use against the strength and hide of even a young dragon. Kyan's reptilian eyes sparkled in wonder at his first victory in service to the True King and said, "he shall give an account of himself before my people, there will be no true justice amongst mortal men for such a traitor." He took hold of the flailing prince and somehow managed to squeeze himself out the window and took to the air.

The King gaped in astonishment and horror. He stood and embraced his remaining son, weeping, "what is to come of Ithamar and my rule? At least you have been restored to me Bayard, that my house not fail altogether."

Bayard shook his head gently, "nay sire, I too am no longer yours. The reports you heard of my death from that evil creature were quite true. I returned at my Master's behest to rid Ithamar of the tyranny that had beset it and now that my quest is finished I must be off on other errands."

The King wept the more, "then what is to come of me and all Ithamar, bereft as I am of my sons?"

Bayard said gently, "the captain here is a faithful man and he knows of another who can guide you in the ways of wisdom, justice, and truth. Listen faithfully to their counsel and you will not be led astray."

The King sighed, "at least I have this much hope: that death is not the end."

Bayard smiled, "they will be glad to advise you on that subject as well. Farewell father." Before he withdrew from the castle, Bayard asked of the captain, and was granted, a certain letter to a certain confidant that might avail him on his next endeavor. He swiftly left the castle, found Erian, and vanished from Ithamar as suddenly as he had come.

Mollia stood outside the small house listening to the sounds of weeping and mourning going on within, wondering if she was come too late. She knocked once, then twice yet still no one answered. Then daring something she never would have dreamed in her former life, she tried the door and entered the house without the owner's invitation. A woman in her middle years sat in a chair with her face buried in her hands while an old woman Mollia took to be the healer, stood behind her with a comforting hand on the distraught lady's shoulder. A bevy of young girls sat at their mother's feet, clutching at her skirts, with tears of grief streaming from their eyes. All save the weeping woman looked up at her unannounced entrance and drew back in either fear or awe at this lady who seemed to gleam like the moon through mist. She spoke not a word to anyone, neither did they have the ability to put a question to her at that particular moment, stunned as they were.

Mollia walked past the wretched family and agape healer; an unearthly peace seemed to descend upon them in her wake. She entered the sickroom, where the ailing man lay in an uneasy sleep. She gazed upon the poor, stricken creature for a moment with the utmost pity and then kissed him gently on the forehead. The suffering and pain vanished from his countenance and his sleep became that of an untroubled youth. She smiled at the healing powers now innate within her being, cast one last, gentle glance upon Gavin's adoptive father, and vanished as silently as she had come. The women in the outer room thought it all a dream, but some minutes after the vision had vanished, they rushed as one into the sickroom and found the man fully healed and resting comfortably for the first time in months and no longer upon the brink of death as the healer had just that night pronounced him.

Gavin stood silently in the darkness, wondering what the old man would think of such a visitor at this time of the night. He smiled to himself, recalling that night a lifetime ago upon which he and Kyan had desperately fled into the night and upon which all his world had changed. Now he was about to announce the same to the old hermit within the dark confines of the little hut. He waited in the dark, lost in the past, only to find his quarry peering out the door into the inky depths of the night. Gavin shook himself and stepped out of the surrounding wood that the man might see what had disturbed his slumber. He had felt some great power in the night and smiled in understanding when he saw the griffin upon his doorstep. He had expected something wondrous to be lurking about outside his door, it was only a question of what or who. He feared no evil thing, as it was not a malevolent force he felt but something altogether wondrous, though the creature himself seemed unaware of the aura innate within his being.

Said the old hermit, "what brings you to my humble abode at this hour, my dear griffin?"

Gavin grinned, "you actually sir. Pack your things, for we have an errand to be about." The man nodded dutifully and vanished within.

Soon he emerged with a small satchel thrown over one shoulder and an eager look upon his face, saying, "this shall be an adventure indeed!" He crawled aback the magnificent creature and together they vanished into the shadows of the night.

Bayard found himself in the very south of the world, not far from the dreaded borders of the desolate country ruled by the Enemy. He shuddered to think of that vile land but knew thither he was called and thence lay his duty, but first he had to collect his companions, if any were crazy enough to set out on such a venture. Erian turned a doleful eye over his great shoulder and peered south, "that is the last place I had ever hoped to go."

Bayard smiled grimly, "neither do I relish such an assignment but thither are we bound." He smiled then, "and even there our Master is always with us."

The Pegassi reared and screamed his delight, "that I should never forget, though in these wretched mortal lands, especially in view of that dreadful place, it is too easy to forget and there most of all will we need His protection and guidance."

Bayard slid from the great back, though to mortal eye the Pegassi looked an ordinary horse. A passing farmer had seen the exuberant behavior of the horse and said laughingly to his rider, "a bit of a handful, or so he seems to me!"

Bayard nodded his agreement and asked of the man, "could you direct me to the house of Umbert?"

The man eyed the boy warily, especially the sword at his side, and said confidentially, "the third house on the right, but I warn you not to flout yourself too much else you'll make trouble for yourself and the man you seek, not to mention the whole village. Whatever you fools wish to dabble in is no business of mine but it seems right mad to meddle in such things in such a place."

Bayard said just as quietly, "one might say it is just as mad simply to live in such a place!"

The man smiled grimly, "that it is lad but it is hard to quit a place your family has known for six generations."

Bayard looked surprised, "who would willingly settle here so close to that?"

The man shook his head, "my forebears were not that foolish lad. Then the border was much further south, but it creeps north as time goes on, soon I do not doubt the village itself will be consumed. Maybe then we will all have sense enough to leave. But enough of that, get yourself indoors before the wrong people see you."

Bayard thanked the man, walked quickly towards the indicated house, and knocked upon the front door. There was movement in the window near the door, it was flung quickly open and the inmate hurriedly motioned for the boy to come inside. Bayard complied and the door shut suddenly behind him. The man glanced out the window once more and seemed satisfied that no one was paying any particular attention to the goings on in this particular residence. The two studied one another for a moment, Bayard noted a man who looked very much like the helpful captain of Ithamar but somewhat younger.

The man saw a plainly clad boy wearing a sword so naturally that he hoped it meant he knew the use of the thing, but he had seen no horse without, which might prove to be a problem, but not an insurmountable one. Finished with sizing up the boy, the man said, "and what brings you to my door lad?"

Bayard said without preamble, "I have just come from Ithamar and carry a missive from your brother." He proffered the letter; the man took it eagerly and began to read.

A slight frown crossed the man's face as he finished and it deepened as he reread it. Quoth he, "it seems you assisted my brother in some small adventure which left a very great impression upon him. He says you expressly asked for such a letter and that whatever you should ask of me, he greatly urges me to supply it to the best of my ability. Not an easy man to impress, is my brother! So what is it you would have of me?"

Bayard took a deep breath, tried to keep a straight face, and said, "I know you rank very highly among the Whiteguard serving in this dreadful part of the world. I am bound south on a desperate errand and need at least one man to accompany me, more would certainly be helpful but my mission will fail if I go alone."

"South!" yelped the man, "Have you any idea what that means, boy?"

Bayard nodded grimly, "all too well I fear. If anyone is to accompany me, it must be fully informed volunteers and they must know that we will not be coming back."

The aghast man shook his head, "what crazed quest can carry you thither?"

Bayard shook his head, "that cannot be revealed to anyone, lest it become known to the Enemy. If we are successful, it shall usher in a new age of hope and peace for mankind. If we fail, the price shall simply be our lives. It is an insane venture but our Master thinks it well worth the cost."

The man sighed heavily, "my brother's opinion carries great weight in my own eyes. You look but a boy, yet you hold yourself as a man who has led and survived many a campaign. My mind reels at the very idea but my heart says I must trust you in this. I cannot speak for my men, but I shall apprise them of the suicidal nature of this venture and see if there are any fool enough to go with you on this quest."

Bayard bowed deeply, "that is all I ask."

The man eyed the boy, "it may take several weeks, if not a month, for word to reach all of my far flung companies."

Bayard shook his head, "I cannot wait weeks. I shall carry whatever messages you wish to send and we shall set out as soon as we have volunteers enough." The man nodded in agreement with the boy's idea and immediately set about writing out orders for his scattered companies. Within an hour, Bayard was again in his saddle and quickly lost to sight. The man stared out the window long after the boy had fled and wondered what this strange adventure might be; somewhere deep within, hope began to stir.

It did not take weeks for Bayard to deliver his message, the wings of the Pegassi enabled the project to be accomplished in a matter of moments. Bayard mused that there could be no more efficient messenger on earth, perhaps that was where the Messengers had acquired their name? The world quit spinning and resolved itself into a forest glade amid spindly trees in the growing dark of evening. A fire in the bottom of a little dell drew Bayard's gaze, and after dismounting, he made his way thither afoot with Erian following silently behind.

"Halt!" came the challenge from behind. Bayard smiled as he put his hands in the air and slowly turned around. They must have appeared within the ring warded by the sentries and the man nearest them had suddenly noticed there was an unannounced stranger in their midst. The guard gasped, "how did you slip in lad with none the wiser? What business do you have in such a place?"

Bayard grinned, "I cannot say how I evaded your notice but I carry a letter for your captain, from your commander himself."

The sentry nodded but did not put up his sword, "very well lad, we shall see if you are what you claim." He motioned towards the camp and followed the boy as he continued his descent towards the fire's light. The sight of the sentry and his prisoner entering the little camp roused the men about the fire from their meal with every hand reaching for its weapon.

The captain stood slowly and queried, "what have we here?"

The sentry saluted and said, "sir, this boy claims to carry a letter from the commander himself and somehow got inside the perimeter before I noticed him."

The captain gave the sentry a curious glance but refrained from remarking upon the possibility of the man being inattentive on his watch, but the significance of the unspoken comment was not lost upon his fellow soldiers, whose amused expressions seemed to assume this to be the case. Said the captain, "well lad, let us see this letter that has aroused so much fuss on an otherwise quiet night." Bayard proffered his dispatch, which the captain took and began to read, but halfway through his reading he sat down quite suddenly in shock and disbelief. He stared at the boy, "can this be true? It is certainly the commander's hand and seal but how can he ask such a thing? And you to lead it? You! A mere boy!"

Bayard nodded solemnly, "it is indeed a strange thing he asks, or rather that I asked of him to ask of you and your men, but it is an errand of the utmost importance and secrecy."

The captain shook his head, "there are none fool enough in this company to go with you lad but I shall ask however." He glanced at the sentry, "recall the men on watch that I only need say this once." The man saluted and dashed off into the night to gather his fellow sentinels. The captain glanced at the boy, shaking his head, "it is an impossible thing you ask indeed!"

The company was soon fully accounted for and the captain began, "this lad has the audacity to ask for volunteers from amongst our company to go South, and from thence it is promised that none shall return. The nature of the mission is known only to himself and will not even be revealed to any mad enough to agree to go with him. I shall let him speak."

Bayard nodded his thanks, then said, "it is as your captain has stated. I am bound South on a delicate and vital mission yet cannot ride thither alone. I need at least one man, preferably more, to go with me to our doom. What can be worth such a price? If we are successful, the world will enter a new and wondrous age, though we ourselves will not live to see it. The very thought of riding into the Blighted Lands sends chills into my very soul but even so, I know this thing must be done and willingly do I ride South. I pray I do not ride alone but the choice must be yours. Your commanders all think me mad but this thing must be done and will be attempted."

There was utter silence for a few moments and Bayard could not read the stony and shocked faces of the men before him. He could not tell if any were willing to accompany him on this venture. Said perhaps the youngest man there present, "you are asking us to ride willingly to our deaths for the sake of something we shall never know?"

Bayard smiled grimly, "that about sums it up."

The youth grinned, "I can live with that."

Bayard said forbiddingly, "you must also be willing to die for it."

The boy nodded, "we court death every day in our current service yet here is a chance to do something truly wondrous, if all your hinting can be believed, and all you ask is the same price we risk each and every day just the same? I shall gladly come upon this misadventure, if only to see what it is we fight so desperately for." Two others also stood, appearing to be little older than the first of their company that had spoken.

Their captain shook his head grimly and said, "I cannot say you have my blessing upon this venture but you are free to go if that is your desire. I only pray you find the results worth the cost." The other soldiers murmured uneasily amongst themselves and wondered what could drive their three youngest into certain suicide.

Bayard thanked the general assembly for their attention and gathered up his volunteers, that they might discuss things further in private. Once they had drawn some distance from the camp, Bayard said quietly, "you three are certain you wish to go on this suicidal quest? You know what horrors wait upon the further border?" All three nodded adamantly and Bayard could not suppress a grin, "then I am proud to die beside you. Get some rest, for we leave as soon as it is light enough to ride."

True to his word, they were in the saddle in the dull grey light of early dawn. The rest of the company watched stonily as the foursome rode off into the quickening day, wondering how such madness could lurk within such young hearts. They pressed steadily south all morning and about noon, stopped in a little dell to rest the horses and partake of their midday meal; the spindly trees had given way to hilly plains covered in stunted shrubs, plentiful stones, and coarse grasses which would eventually fail completely as they made their way into the utter desolation that was the Bleak Lands.

As time passed and Bayard showed no interest in moving on, his three companions began to grow uneasy, wondering why their leader did not bestir himself and continue on their journey. Bayard glanced at his anxious companions and said, "relax, we shall be upon the road soon enough but first we must await a few more companions upon our way."

The trio shared a perplexed look as Ian said, "but who else would be crazy enough to consider such a venture?"

"Who indeed?" came a strange voice, "Here we are, together again it seems, but this time the journey shall not be half so pleasant."

The three soldiers jumped at the unanticipated voice, but Bayard only grinned as his anticipated companions and dearest friends suddenly descended upon their extended repast. Mollia eyed Kyan with some surprise, "I did not think our last excursion that pleasant myself, save perhaps for the ending."

"You mean the beginning," laughed Gavin, as he and the old hermit, Melvin by name, came up the opposite side of the hill. Melvin eyed the gathering with some interest, recognizing Kyan from their long acquaintance; though all looked human, there was something distinctly strange about all but the three young soldiers. Even one of the horses had an odd aura about him. The old man smiled in anticipation; this would certainly be an interesting adventure, to say the least!

Gasped Ian once more, "these are our companions? An old man and a woman too!"

Said the aforementioned old man, "do not let appearances deceive you lad. All of us shall prove our worth ere this quest is ended. One might also ask why three such boys are also set upon this adventure?" The boy blushed and the confusion in his companions' eyes turned to sudden reflection as the truth of Melvin's words sunk in. Bayard stood, greeted his old companions, and made introductions all around.

Melvin shook his head in amusement and said, "never has such a strange company set forth before, especially with such a destination."

Bayard grinned, "I suggest we move along, else this adventure might never get started."

The new arrivals did not have horses, but seemed quite capable of keeping up with the mounted men just the same, at least all save Melvin, but Bayard offered him a place aback Erian, who did not seem to mind carrying such an interesting personage, especially upon such a strange quest. They trotted along for most of the day then stopped at nightfall, within sight of that forsaken border.

Sighed Ian as they wearily made camp for the night, "how are we to avoid being found in such a place with neither tree nor bush to veil us?"

Another of the soldiers spoke, "worse, what is to come of us when confronted by the minions of evil that roam throughout that country, against whom mortal man is helpless?"

Melvin grinned, "I can ward us, at least partially, from the fell eyes that ever scan those desolate hills. As for protection from those against whom your swords will not avail you, I am certain such shall be provided when the need is upon us. This mission is sanctioned by the Master Himself and He shall certainly ward us until it is accomplished."

The three seemed only partially mollified, as Bayard said, "if you are having second thoughts, it is not too late to turn aside." The boys jolted at this and their courage roused, as one they promised to see the mission through to the end. The company settled down for their last sleep in the mortal world.

Once the trio of soldiers had drifted off to sleep, the others drew some distance from the camp to discuss the coming journey; Erian was not shy in joining them. Melvin followed after, nearly bursting with curiosity as to the strange nature of his companions; he most especially eyed the horse with great interest. Said he to Kyan and Gavin, "you two I remember from your sudden departure not all that long ago. Can you tell me what happened after you fled?" The four friends exchanged smiles to remember their strange adventure as Bayard told the full tale, much to the delight of the old man. Mollia and Gavin were quite intrigued to hear of their adventures in Ithamar and Gavin was delighted to hear that his father was healthy once more. "Now what of this new adventure?" asked the magician, "Never have I heard of such a gathering!"

Bayard shook his head, "I and my three mortal companions must make our way into the very heart of those vile hills from whence we shall not return."

Melvin nodded, "and our job is to see that you make it there safely." The others nodded, knowing the great cost each of them would pay upon this quest, but knowing it well worth the sacrifice. They returned to their little camp, Melvin and Bayard slipped into their blankets while the others silently watched the night.

Dawn cast a feeble light upon that desolate land, as if the sun could not bring herself to shine upon the fell scenes that lay beyond. As one journeyed south, the vegetation failed and the light grew ever dimmer, until one stood in the absolute dark without even bare soil beneath your feet; there was nothing but grim bedrock and darkness deep within that land. And a step beyond that, one entered utter darkness where Nothing was; a place that was Nowhere and nothing but horror and grief and despair lurked for all eternity: the final resting place of all creatures that chose to dwell apart from their Master and Creator.

But our brave adventurers would not be going that deep into that dreadful land, rather they would seek out its unhallowed heart: the place that birthed such terrible creatures as Wraiths and Dreadlords. Warding that evil core were all manner of undead and immortal creatures that took delight in nothing but evil and death. Melvin would mask their passing as best he could from unfriendly eyes. The dragon, griffin, and unicorn would counter any of their dark kin met upon the way. Bayard and his companions had their own dreadful task to complete at journey's end. With wonder and fear, they crossed into the lands of death from whence no mortal had ever returned and into which the Master's servants had never ventured, until now.

A dim twilight surrounded them; the coarse, sparse grass was brown and dead and crunched beneath their feet. There was a lowering sense of evil, death, and oppression in the air; even the immortal creatures among them felt uneasy in this surreal world of sorrow unending. The first day passed uneventfully, though several times they had glimpsed shadows moving upon a distant hill, but Melvin somehow kept the party from being seen by unfriendly eyes. Their invisibility was not complete however, for not all eyes were fooled by the magician's tricks. Those creatures that had once been men easily fell prey to his spell but there were other minions of evil abroad in those accursed lands. Bayard suddenly ordered Ian and his compatriots to dismount and fall to the center of the party; used to taking orders, they immediately complied even as their horses went mad with terror, bolting into the ever present dusk of that land.

An equine scream of pure rage and utter hatred broke that dreadful silence; it was answered with a cry of equal vehemence, yet fraught with joy and awful beauty. All drew back in wonder as the unicorn in their midst shone like the stars unveiled, too bright to look upon. Mollia reared and dashed to meet the wretched beast that challenged the intruders. It was an evil unicorn, dark as the depths of starless night with an evil red flame roiling in his eyes, but this ruined creature brought no tears to Mollia this time. The two met and clashed; light and dark flared like roiling thunderheads. Suddenly there was a bright flash and then utter night covered the face of the hills, and then the perpetual gloom resumed its sightless watching.

"A unicorn!" gasped Ian.

"Two," said Melvin in awe and deepest grief, "one good, the other evil."

"What has come of her?" wailed the mystified boy.

Melvin shook his head sadly, "she has vanquished her foe at the cost of her own life. The creature has been cast into utter night and will no more terrify the mortal world but she too has relinquished her claim upon the mortal sphere. She may yet dwell upon the far side of the Mountains or choose to cross the Sea, but no more shall she be seen among mortal men."

The soldiers were stunned into silence, to know that an immortal creature might truly die and for the sake of mortal men. Their own sacrifice could be nothing compared to that but what gain could be worth such a price? The others nodded grimly, knowing the price they too must soon pay. Mollia's fate would soon be their own, but being themselves immortal and previously aware of such things, it was not such a shock to their sensibilities as it was to the dumbfounded soldiers in their midst, whose very minds reeled to ponder these things.

They pressed on in silence for two more days, or so they thought, for time ran strangely in that land and there was neither night nor day, no stars or sun to mark the time or to brighten their path. Again they faced a dark terror and this time Kyan gave his life for theirs. An immense dragon loomed out of the gloom and they could hardly breath for the choking fumes of his smoke. But the relatively miniscule dragon did not flinch from his duty and rushed upon his foe, clamping his jaws firmly upon his enemy's throat. The great monster thrashed and gasped in the reek his own fumes, but the smaller dragon clung to his throat like a terrier upon a mastiff. His thrashings and screams grew weaker and weaker, until both creatures vanished from mortal gaze in a great flash of light and then an overwhelming darkness. Gavin shivered to think that he was the last of their fellowship, but the shrieks of an onrushing griffin of evil intent ended all his misgivings as he leapt upon his foe and both vanished as the others had done.

Bayard turned grim eyes upon Melvin, saying, "the time for our own end is come. You can do no more to aid us. Farewell!" He turned to the three soldiers and said, "it is time." They nodded grimly and made ready to follow their enigmatic leader to whatever end. Bayard threw his arms around Erian's neck and whispered, "farewell my friend. Bear our friend to safety and I hope your next rider proves a better companion."

The Pegassi snorted a laugh, "do not be ridiculous, I could not ask for a better friend! We shall see who has the right of it. Farewell for now, but not forever." Bayard smiled grimly and patted the arching neck as the Pegassi reared, revealed his full glory, and screamed for all the world to hear.

Melvin and the three boys were quite taken aback by the spectacle, but soon Bayard was chivying the magician astride the glorious creature and suddenly they vanished from sight. The three boys stared in wonder at their leader and asked, "are you too some strange creature beyond mortal understanding?"

Bayard smiled, shook his head, and said, "I am no more than a mortal man. Come, we have our own duty to be about. We shall soon encounter our foes and will die upon the altar to their vile lord. Though it seems I betray you, trust ever in our Master. It is for this very thing we have come."

They nodded grimly and made to ascend the hill before them, but before they had moved more than a step or two, a dozen skeletal Soldiers surrounded them with a Wraith at their head. "What have we here?" sneered the undead magician, "How could four such get this far unseen? What is your business, mortals?"

Bayard said grimly, "I have come willingly. These three are heretics and will suffice for the price of blood."

The Wraith snarled in delight, "there is something strange at work here but your words please me." He drew a dagger from a hidden sheath and slashed it across Bayard's unflinching cheek; the appearance of blood seeping from the wound made the monster hiss in delight, "it seems this is no trick of the Enemy, for you indeed bleed like any wounded mortal. Come then and find the power you seek." The Soldiers bound Ian and his companions until they could not move and were hoisted aloft by their captors like so many logs. Bayard was allowed to move of his own accord. The eyes of the three mortal soldiers were wide with horror and confusion, wondering what strange game was afoot.

They crested the rise and looked down into the dell below, in which stood two stone altars and nothing more. The bound soldiers were stacked upon one of the altars while Bayard allowed himself to be chained hand and foot to the other. The Wraith intoned as he raised a vile looking knife above Bayard's unprotected chest, "you come of your own free will and willingly submit to that which is to come?"

Bayard sighed deeply and said, "I accept this fate willingly."

The Wraith said in hideous delight, "then let us begin."

He began to chant in a fell and forgotten tongue while he poised the knife over Bayard's chest. The three bound boys watched in utter horror for a moment, but suddenly they were consumed by a ball of red flame that shot forth from the Wraith's hand; the blaze burned merrily upon the other altar though no trace now remained of its victims. The Wraith drove the knife into Bayard's chest, intending to cut out his still beating heart and throw it into the blaze, thus birthing a Dreadlord or some other undead servant of evil, little knowing the true nature of his victim and the results of such an act. The moment the vile knife touched his flesh, Bayard screamed in agony and the entire dell was filled with blinding light. The boy vanished and the Wraith evaporated in the sudden flare while both altars crumbled to dust. An earthquake shook the land and all was engulfed in darkness.

Bayard lay gasping upon the Beach, his feet submerged in that glittering Sea. A gentle touch upon his cheek roused him from his faint and he gazed once more upon Erian and the Mountains towering high above them. He sat up and shook himself, putting a tenuous hand to his chest, which still burned with the memory of that dreadful knife. He looked into the gentle and triumphant eyes of his friend and asked, "what happened?"

The Pegassi cocked his head and gazed at his friend with an amused glint in his eye, "you ushered in a thousand years of peace and prosperity in the Greylands."

Bayard gaped, "what?"

The Pegassi snorted in amusement, "your innocent blood on that accursed altar shook the Enemy's power to his very core."

Bayard frowned, "how is my blood innocent save by the grace of our Master?"

Erian nodded, "now you begin to understand. It had very little, if anything, to do with you, but everything to do with our Master's grace; He it was that paid the full price for all the world's sins. Anyway, there was such an earthquake in that dreadful land that it raised up a great range of mountains that now wards the mortal world from incursions by the dread servants of evil. At least they did for the last millennium, until the Enemy managed to bore through the wall of stone and set up gates into that Infernal Realm. All his undead minions were banished thither by the efforts of our fellows and for a thousand years the Greylands have not known evil, save that wrought by mortal men.

Bayard said in surprise, "you speak as if a thousand years have already passed."

The Pegassi said soberly, "that it has, though to you it seems only moments. The world is utterly changed from the one you knew. Men have grown complacent in their relative peace and prosperity, little knowing that evil shall soon overwhelm them if they do nothing to stop it. The Whiteguard has dwindled, as has the Black, for few are those who even believe in the Evil One now. They even begin to forget their true Master and believe their prosperity came about by some achievement of human endeavor or wisdom."

Bayard said quietly, "a thousand years!"

Erian nodded, "even the Three Kindreds have dwindled to myth in the eyes of most of the world. The Messengers are all but forgotten and few now hearken to the voices of the Seers and Prophets that yet wander the world, among whom is still our dear Melvin." Bayard smiled in remembrance and Erian answered his unspoken look of surprise, by saying, "his kind might live forever if it is our Master's will."

Bayard snorted, "unlike my extensive twenty years among mortal men." He glanced longingly across the Sea, "a thousand years. The world changed so much I will not know it."

Erian said quietly, "will you Go?"

Bayard then turned his gaze to the Mountains and the Greylands beyond, "yet you say evil will soon rush upon the world like an unexpected tsunami? It seems we are needed more than ever in the mortal sphere."

Erian reared, pawing the air and beating his wings, "evil will begin to recruit, threaten, and bribe those who are willing to be so corrupted and the rest it shall enslave or destroy, but the Master Himself shall also raise up His own servants in this last age of the world."

Bayard stood, saying, "and we shall gladly be among them."

Brin rode beside his dearest friend in all the world, rejoicing in the glory of the day; they were abroad on their first patrol as members of the Whiteguard and he nearly bounced in his saddle with the excitement coursing through his heart. Tyne rolled his eyes at his overeager companion and shook his head at the very futility of the Whiteguard. What was the sense of a soldiery devoted to a non-existent Lord? Where was the power and glory in that? True, remnants of the Blackguard still roamed the wildlands but what real threat was that dwindling menace? Tyne had met an intriguing fellow the other night on a rare excursion to the local inn and he spoke eloquently of where true power and riches could be attained.

He had once been as innocent and naïve as Brin, but the man had opened his eyes to the true meaning of life: he could no longer be content riding among such companions. Brin turned merry eyes upon his friend, as if asking him to savor the very joy of being. The joy in his eyes suddenly turned to disbelief and horror, as Tyne's raised sword plunged into his chest. Brin fell stricken from his horse and lay gasping upon the ground, even as the rest of the company stopped suddenly, surrounded by horrid, skeletal monsters in tattered uniforms and rusting armor.

A Wraith stood in their midst, malicious fervor tinged its voice as it hissed, "any who wish to spare their lives will immediately swear himself to the service of the Dark One. The rest of you may simply die."

The captain wasted no time in drawing his sword and ordering his men to attack these fiends out of legend. Tyne, alone of all his companions, sat his horse, still holding his bloody sword while the rest charged their enemies, only to fall slain to the ground. When the entire company lay dead or dying, save the traitor, the Wraith hissed at Tyne, "the blood price has been paid. Will you proceed?"

Tyne slid from the back of his horse and asked, "if the reward is as great as you say, then I must and will!"

"Excellent," grated the Wraith, who then raised its dagger and began chanting in its own fell tongue.

Tyne glanced down at the failing and horrified Brin, grinning cruelly, "soon I shall have power enough to destroy the world, with none to stop me, and you will be no more than a corpse moldering unburied, forgotten and unmourned." He ceased his gloating to scream in agony as the Wraith finished the vile ritual; a Dreadlord was born and a soul utterly forsaken.

The Wraith laughed horridly and said, "do not waste these pitiful corpses! Let us put them to some use and let them walk the world in service to us and our dread master."

The Dreadlord that was Tyne, smiled horribly, "that we shall." They began cutting the still hearts out of the chests of the slain Whiteguard and one by one, Brin was horrified to see his late companions standing with dull and glazing eyes: new Soldiers in the army of the Dark One.

The Wraith snarled down at Brin, "this one lingers still."

Tyne smiled wickedly, "not for long." He plunged his sword into Brin's heart and dealt a mortal blow to his one time friend.

Bayard sat Erian atop a small hill somewhere in the middle of the world and watched a company of the Whiteguard riding along a sunny road. Suddenly he tensed and reached for his sword, but a steady hand on his stopped him from drawing it forth. He glanced over in surprise to see Ian, upon his Pegassi, standing beside them with a great smile upon his face. Said Ian, "it has been a very long time, at least by my reckoning. That was quite the scare you gave us in seeming to cooperate with that Wraith, but afterwards it all made sense and was well worth the price." He turned his eyes back to the scene before them and said grimly, "a pity it could not last."

Erian snorted and shook his head, "but it was not meant to last until the Master returns to reclaim His own."

Bayard sighed, "are we not to intervene?"

Ian shook his head, "the Enemy has come recruiting but so has our Master. It may seem a slaughter and a victory of the Dark, but not to those who can see beyond the sphere of Time."

As they spoke, Tyne betrayed his friend while his new allies murdered his company as he looked on. A Dreadlord was born and eleven new Soldiers were added to the ranks of evil that day as the Messengers watched. Then the dreadful company marched off; a grim smile crossed the faces of the Messengers as they drew their swords and finally charged the fell creatures.

"What!" shrieked the Dreadlord in horror to the Wraith, "You said none could challenge us!"

The Wraith snarled, "I lied! Is that any surprise, you fool? Now get your sword out and let us make an end of these minor pests."

The Pegassi fell upon the clumped Soldiers like lightning, the mindless wretches stood little chance against the combined efforts of the Messengers. While the Messengers were bogged down amidst the Soldiers, the Wraith conjured balls of dark fire to consume his foes. The Pegassi moved so quickly that it was nearly impossible for the Wraith's dark magic to hit either of his foes, but as the last of the Soldiers fell, Ian was consumed utterly by the dark fire and his Pegassi vanished just as suddenly in pursuit of his master, leaving Bayard alone to vanquish the Wraith and the Dreadlord. The Wraith, distracted for a moment by his success, fell easily to Bayard, leaving him alone with the infant Dreadlord. "What are you?" hissed the undead warrior.

Bayard smiled, "have you not heard of the King's Messengers?" The Dreadlord shook his head in terror, as Bayard drove home his blade, saying, "then perhaps you should study up on the subject." Erian screamed their triumph and just as suddenly vanished upon their next errand.

They stood upon the Beach, with Ian beside them, and eleven confused and astounded men before them. The Messengers slid off their mounts, who then suddenly vanished from sight, while the late company of the Whiteguard stood staring about them like peasant children catching their first glimpse of the towers and crowds of a major city.

Brin sighed heavily, "it was a slaughter! Senseless murder! We were helpless before such fiends."

"Not senseless," said Bayard, "the Enemy had planned it out for his own gain and the Master shall use it for His, if you are willing?"

Brin shook his head, "but how is such horror and evil to be overcome?"

Bayard smiled broadly, "by those willing to intervene on behalf of the innocent."

"This is the stuff of legend!" said the amazed boy.

Ian laughed, "the story will grow far stranger yet, at least from a mortal perspective, but then that viewpoint is no longer our own."

A defiant look crossed Brin's face as he crossed his arms and said, "I want to fight!" His companions took up the cheer while Ian and Bayard shared an excited smile. Battle would be met.

"This has been quite the day," said Brin to Bayard, as they rode along a winding road in the fading twilight, again in the mortal world.

Erian shook his head and laughed in his horsy way, "and it is only the beginning I think. Who ever heard of such a thing? The Messengers have never been recruited in such a way to my knowledge. By the dozen! What next?"

A magpie winged overhead and whispered, "things will be as they must! But that is for Me to know and you to discover."

The two boys and their Pegassi exchanged a joyous and amused look at this appearance and comment. Bayard smiled at Brin's overwhelmed and confused expression, "you will eventually get used to it. But come, our next adventure is before us."

Brin glanced around in the near dark, though things were quite visible to his strange eyes, he said in some surprise, "I know this place quite well! We near my village."

Bayard nodded, "the Enemy has again loosed his minions upon mortal lands and all must be warned and prepared, if they are willing. All the Master's servants are upon such errands, that men will not be overwhelmed ere they are warned. We have come to tell your village of these things."

Brin gaped, "but they hardly believe the old tales. They laughed when Tyne and I said we were off to join the Whiteguard. My mother only consented because she thought being a soldier was a fine way to win glory and riches. How are they to believe us?"

Bayard shook his head, "they will at least have the chance, as all must, but the choice to believe is theirs. We are only the messengers."

Erian eyed him over his shoulder, "I despise puns."

The two Messengers shared a brief laugh, but soon found themselves in the midst of the village and had to focus on the task at hand. A few folk were still abroad on this fine summer evening and gazed at the mounted strangers with some wonder and trepidation. Few were the visitors to such a small town, especially armed and mounted strangers, though plainly clad, but a young girl seemed to recognize one of the lads and cried out, "Brin!" And promptly flung herself into her brother's arms.

He laughed joyously, fending off the flailing arms of his sister, and said, "Kaiya, you had best go find mother and gather the rest of the village." She smiled impishly at him and dashed off to find her mother, which was needless, as the outburst was already drawing everyone out of their homes onto the village green. They recognized the errant boy and were curiously eyeing his companion, wondering where Tyne was.

"Brin!" came the overjoyed call of his mother's voice. He allowed her to envelope him in a great hug and then looked at her with a mix of joy and sorrow as she pulled back to arm's length to look full upon him.

Another woman slipped out of the crowd and queried, "where is Tyne?"

Brin shook his head sadly at Tyne's mother saying, "he has taken another path."

The woman eyed him in some surprise, "what are you saying? Where is he? What is this thing you speak of so cryptically?"

Brin's mother said in quiet dread, "we heard that your company had disappeared. Nothing has been seen or heard of you for weeks! We all feared the worst." She smiled hopefully, then said, "yet here you are, yet what has happened? Why do you look so full of sorrow to be once more among your folk? Where is your friend?"

Brin turned pleading eyes upon Bayard, who nodded silently, this was no easy subject to broach to his own kith and kin. Bayard turned pitying eyes upon Tyne's mother and said quietly, "madam, your son is a traitor. He murdered his dearest friend and betrayed his entire company to their doom. He gave himself fully over to evil and now walks the world a terror and a mockery to all mortal life."

She slapped him, hard, yet the sting of the blow was nothing to the pain in her eyes and horror in her heart. She screamed, "it cannot be so! You lie!"

Brin's mother gasped, "how can this be? You yet walk among the living!"

Sinister laughter filled the night and then a grimly amused voice croaked, "I would not count these ghosts among the living, woman. All they say is quite true and my sword will gladly pierce his wretched heart once more."

The clumped villagers drew even closer together in terror as Tyne rode out of the shadows with a company of a dozen human soldiers in black livery, with drawn swords, closed in around them. The Messengers quickly reached for their swords and looked about for their mounts. Brin's Pegassi was ready and waiting but Erian was nowhere to be found. "What do you want Tyne?" asked Brin patiently.

Tyne laughed darkly, "all in this village shall bend knee to the Dark One. Their young men shall be forfeited to the Blackguard. All their valuables shall be yielded up as tribute and a man of my choosing shall be left in charge to see that none revoke their oaths to their new master." The villagers groaned at this announcement and the Blackguard laughed in anticipation.

Brin smiled, "not if we can help it."

Tyne laughed, "that I doubt very much." He glanced at his men, "these boys are mine. We shall deal with the others shortly."

He drew his sword and charged Brin, while the villagers and the Blackguard drew back in combined horror and wonder. Lightning and darkness flared forth as their swords met, as strokes were given and blocked by either combatant. Bayard stood staring off into the dark, perplexed as to the absence of his friend and wondering what they were to do with the Blackguard, as a Messenger was useless against mortal foes. Suddenly he heard Erian's familiar battle cry as the Pegassi galloped into town with a stranger on his back and two dozen soldiers in the colors of the Whiteguard. Bayard shook his head and smiled in amusement at the timely answer to his question and turned his attention back to the conflict before them, which had distracted the Blackguard and the villagers to the point that they did not see their peril or their rescue, respectively.

Finally Tyne struck a mortal blow and Brin vanished in a flash of light, only to be banished himself by a stroke from Bayard, who had come up silently behind him. The amazed onlookers suddenly came back to themselves, only to find the situation far different from how it had begun. The Whiteguard had the Blackguard completely surrounded and twice outnumbered; they sensibly threw down their swords and raised their hands. They were new recruits, not yet completely overcome by their thirst for power and love of evil. Most were unwilling converts or confused boys.

Everyone sighed with relief that the situation had been settled without bloodshed, save the families of Tyne and Brin. The anxious mothers dashed up to Bayard, demanding tearfully to know what had come of their sons. Bayard said sadly, "your sons are no longer numbered among mortal men ladies. One is forever lost to evil; the other yet serves the Master with all his being. Neither has been destroyed but simply sent back to their respective masters to set out anew."

Brin's mother gasped, "I thought all that was legend, myth even!"

Melvin slid from Erian's back and joined the little group, "yes madam, many think such tales nothing more than old stories but I shall tell you all this and more if you shall hear me out?" He shared a smile and a nod with Bayard and drew the confused villagers away like a hen with her chicks.

The captain of the Whiteguard seemed to be holding a conference with their prisoners and hope shone in the eyes of most of the Blackguard as things were explained to them anew. Bayard found himself alone with Erian, who smiled, "I thought you might need some help."

Bayard laughed, "how did you find so much help so quickly?"

The Pegassi laughed, "what is time or distance to a Pegassi? I simply found Melvin and let him explain to the two nearest companies of the Whiteguard what was going on. It only took them a week to get here." Bayard shook his head in wonder, still surprised at the strange way things seemed to work beyond and sometimes within the mortal sphere!

Bayard frowned, "where did you find Melvin?"

The Pegassi shrugged, "wherever he was. We traveled together quite often, he and I, during your absence. The world needed to hear of our Beloved Master lest they forget during all those years of peace and there is no more efficient way for a man to travel. Overall a quite pleasant, though sometimes rather uneventful existence, though I must say it is very good to have you back."

Bayard grinned, "I am glad you kept yourself occupied while I was away."

Full dark had fallen and everyone else seemed to be caught up in whatever they were doing so the pair vanished unseen into the night. Most of the captive Blackguard and much of the village saw the light and fully put their trust in the Master. Several were the recruits added to the Whiteguard that day and others decided to follow Melvin in his wanderings, until they too were knowledgeable enough in such things to then go out and tell them to others. The rest shook their heads and called it folly and lunacy to believe such tales. How could evil soon overrun the world when such things had not been known for a thousand years? They might not believe, but at least they would not now be surprised when it happened. And so it went all over the world, that all might hear and have one last chance to believe.

The minions of evil, long imprisoned behind the Dreadful Mountains, poured forth upon the world to deceive, threaten, corrupt, and destroy. The Blackguard was rebuilt and growing daily through coercion, bribery, and the thirst for power. Wraiths and evil men wormed their way into influential positions and corrupted many rulers and powerful men. Again wars brewed between nations and the aristocracy oppressed and abused their people. Companies of evil men and the undead servants of the Enemy rode throughout the world threatening, corrupting, and destroying as they went. If one did not bend knee to the dark, death was a likely outcome. Yet the Master's servants too were abroad, to counter these menaces and to spread word that the coming darkness was not the end, merely the deepest shade of night before the dawn, when all men must give account of themselves. It was an uneasy time in the world and all hearts had to choose either the Master or the Dark, for none could stand ignorant or undecided in the last days of the world. There was nowhere and no one that was not affected by the horror and darkness that seemed intent on engulfing the world yet there was hope for those who dared look for it.

Bayard suddenly appeared in the Sea, flailing wildly as if he were afire, but feeling the cool and the wet and the joy about him, he immediately ceased his convulsions and allowed the gentle waves to wash him to shore. He would rather take a Dreadlord's sword in the heart than suffer a Wraith's fire as he had just done, but as he had no choice in the matter, it really was of no importance. As usual, Erian stood upon the Beach waiting for his errant master. Climbing to his feet, the boy looked upon the Seaward side of those cliffs that seemed to climb to the heavens and sighed, "I wonder what came of the others?"

Erian cocked his head, "you mean your three friends?"

Bayard nodded, "I know in doing what they did they could not return to the mortal world but did they linger here or vanish oversea?"

Erian shook his head, "it seems that all such creatures have vanished deeper into their own haunts and have been little seen by mortal men in the last thousand years."

"So it has been," said a familiar voice, "but no longer shall it be so!"

Bayard ran to Kyan and joyfully embraced him, soon to be joined by Gavin and Mollia. After an exuberant greeting, Bayard turned to Kyan and asked, "what do you mean?"

Mollia smiled, "all our kin, regardless of side, have withdrawn from the haunts of men but the time has come for all to take a stand either for the Master or against Him."

Bayard nodded, "but I thought you three were prohibited from such excursions."

Gavin smiled grimly, "perhaps while the final ages of the world ran their course, but soon Time itself will be at an end and all things as we once knew them shall be utterly changed."

Erian screamed his delight, "the Day has come!"

The Day! The Last Day of what was and the First Day of whatever was to come! It was quite an overwhelming thought! And they were to march out for the final battle against the Dark. The small company soon began to grow as more Messengers and their Pegassi suddenly appeared and great throngs of dragons, unicorns, and griffins made their way out of the verdant country covering the Mountains. The Beach was quite full but no one felt the least bit crowded and all looked with anticipation over the Sea, to the Brightlands from whence Hope springs eternal. Then they came with Him at their head. A great host of all the thinking creatures faithful to their Master, that had up until now dwelt in the Brightlands, suddenly stood upon the Beach. All went to their knees, as that indescribable Presence stood among them and then with a great shout, the Mountains crumbled to dust and the great host set out to retake the mortal world.

A great sound, like the voice of all the world's trumpets crying together, filled the air and shook the world. The sun and stars fled, the mountains crumbled, and the earth shook with the blast. Mortal men quivered in terror and knew suddenly the End had come. Those who had chosen to seek the Master suddenly found themselves amidst His great throng while all others fled wailing into the darkness, never more to be seen or joined ranks with the servants of evil as they formed up to destroy their Enemy once and for all. Rank upon rank of evil men and the undead minions of the Enemy drew up to face their mortal foes, but none could stand in that Light. The mortal men felt themselves duly judged, threw down their weapons, and vanished into the whelming dark. The undead amongst them faded into a dark mist and vanished like smoke on the wind. The greatest of them all quailed in the confines of his once great Kingdom and wailed in dismay, not daring to even face his Enemy but even there the Light came and overwhelmed and conquered and evil was no more found in the land. What came after was too great and wonderful to tell.

### Other Books by this Author:

### The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book I and II

### The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book III

### The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book IV and V

### Once a Thief

### A Song of Lesser Days

### Thus It Began

### Legends of the Brethren: The Sampler

### Legends of the Brethren: The Complete Series

### In Shadow

### Of Tea... and Things

### The Greylands

### The Foibles

###  Over the Hills and Far Away

### Want to Know More?:

### Official Website

### Author's Blog

Sample Chapters of 'Shadow of the Unicorn,' the first in the 'In Shadow,' series:

### 1

Jace stood upon the battlements, staring, though unseeing, out upon the bleak grey landscape of the failing year ere snow covered and softened the weary land for its winter repose. Leaden clouds lowered ominously on the horizon while a mournful wind moaned pitiably in the half completed towers of the grotesque fortress; the river passed sullenly by without comment, preoccupied with its looming icy imprisonment. Though only partially complete, the grim fortress was already falling to ruin, as were the souls who lingered therein. The place was hardly cheerful, even upon a bright morning of spring, and was at its most dismal ere the first snows of winter, but it was not the weather that brought the boy out to pace the battlements upon such a dreary day, rather he had much to contemplate and none of it good. His patched cloak flapped wildly in the wind but he little noticed, for his thoughts were just as unruly. His grandfather, a nobleman displaced by war, had laid the foundations of this ruin and his father had further built up the fortress after its founder's untimely death, but the family fortune had run out long before the project was finished, so it moldered in half-completed splendor while its occupants dwelt ever in the shadow of poverty and isolation, and now it seemed, madness as well.

Jace's father was but a boy when war forced the family to flee with what they could salvage of their wealth. The patriarch was determined to start anew in a strange land, much to the dismay of the locals, but they were a rather peaceful folk and he began his project without asking their permission, and as they were notorious for their willingness to forgive, the project continued despite their misgivings. But tragedy struck the third winter the family spent in their new home, for both of Jace's grandparents died of pneumonia within a fortnight of one another, leaving their son, still very much a boy, alone in the grim fortress with only a few faithful servants and guards that had accompanied the family in its flight, for they trusted no one in this strange land, least of all those of common descent. But the boy was not crushed by his loss, but rather was as determined, perhaps more so, than his father to finish the project and become a veritable lord in this strange land, the protests of the original inhabitants aside.

Construction continued slowly as the boy grew to manhood and the family fortune dwindled, but surely the son of a nobleman might make a proper match and thereby reinvigorate his fortune as well as perpetuate his line. So it was that Jace's father went a-courting and soon came home with his beautiful and captivating bride, the very picture of a wealthy lady, but only a picture, for though of noble blood, her family was as destitute as that of her new husband, though neither had thought to broach the subject before their marriage, assuming the other was indeed as rich as they portrayed themselves to be. The truth came out very soon after Jace was born; the ensuing fight was the stuff of legend, at least if you believe the tales told in after years by the aging servants, but in the end, the lady fled, leaving her infant son and husband to fend for themselves. The man looked coldly upon the boy, who was so like his mother in form and feature that he could not help but despise him. He turned his back on the child, stared stonily at the open door out which his wife had fled, and then withdrew to his own chambers. Had one of the few remaining servants not taken pity upon the poor creature, he likely would not have survived infancy.

The man seemed indifferent to the fate of his son, pretending that he did not even exist and focusing all his time, thought, and energy on his project instead, but there was no money to pay workmen or buy stone and timber, so the man had to do everything himself. Only two servants remained of the few that had fled with the family, lingering on out of faithfulness and because they had nowhere else to go, for their lord had long since ceased to pay them. The old housekeeper did the cooking, looked after the domestic side of things, and was the only mother the boy ever knew. The other was an aging guardsman who had taken on the duties of butler, valet, and jack-of-all-trades; it was he that taught the boy what little he knew of reading and more importantly, to his mind at least, the sword. The rest of the lad's education was left to what he could glean from the few books that lay forgotten around the fortress and what the housekeeper could impart in the form of old stories as she wandered about the keep seeing to her myriad duties.

As the boy neared manhood, at last his father took a modicum of interest in him, but whether it was due to some newly realized desire for kith and kin in his fading years or because his rheumatism forced him to abandon his fortress building activities, none knew. But one day the master of the ruin summoned the lad into his chambers, where he sat in relative splendor in a fraying robe with a moth-eaten velvet chair for a throne. Upon the lad's entrance, the man studied him as he might a horse he had a mind to buy. After several minutes of dreadful silence, the man said at last, "what do they call you boy?"

The lad blinked in surprise that his father did not even know his name, but his servile foster parents had taught him courtesy, if little else, said he with a proper bow, "I am called Jace, sir."

The man nodded as if it were of no matter and continued, "very well boy, they say you are my son, a claim I cannot verify yet neither can I fully deny it. In either case, it is high time you started to earn your keep around here. My father had a vision that this castle would one day tower over the surrounding countryside and herein would his descendants be safe from war, plague, and the like, nevermore to be driven like refugees from that which was rightfully our own. This is all my purpose and destiny and it shall be yours, whether you like it or not. You will take up where I have left off: cutting timber, collecting stone, using it to finish what my father began, well?"

The boy gaped, was this to be all his future? A slave to another man's futile dream?

The man shook his head sadly, "I see you are not a man of vision, like unto mine, a pity, for I think it proves that you are not my son after all. I will give you the afternoon to ponder your future, either submit yourself to my father's dream and fulfill your true purpose in this life or get you gone from here, never to return." The boy gave a perfect bow and vanished from the room, fleeing to the battlements to mull over his future, whatever it might be.

Night was falling and still he had found no sensible reply for the grim man waiting impatiently in his chambers below, prematurely aged by labor, sorrow, and unrestrained ambition. Jace glanced uneasily out upon the darkening world, could he truly find a life out there in the world that had forsaken his family, from whose stock had sprung his faithless mother? Yet he knew he could not remain forever a slave to his grandfather's dream as his father had ever been. What was he to do? Where was he to go? The outside world terrified him, but could he live on for countless years in futile toil? He wanted to scream or weep and came very close to doing both, but his reeling thoughts were interrupted by a stooping ghost that loomed out of the darkness before him.

Came the gruff but concerned voice of the guardsman, "what troubles thee lad? The master sent me to find ye, he is impatient for yer answer."

The boy glanced silently out into the darkness and the man nodded in grave understanding, "aye, it is a hard choice, but no choice at all I think. This cursed place has consumed two generations of yer family lad, don't be a fool and make it three. Whatever horrors lay without, they can be nothing to what lurks herein."

The boy nodded his silent thanks and then went to find his father, knowing the man had spoken truly. He knocked timidly upon the door and entered upon the gruff command to do so. He found his father standing before the hearth, staring into the flames, his hands clasped at his back; he did not turn around or even look at the boy, said he, "a harlot's son, through and through, cannot even stay on to succor an aging wreck of a man in his failing years, the selfish, selfish wretch." Suddenly the man turned, his anger giving him strength and speed that years of hard labor had stolen, he took up an iron poker that lay to hand and his eyes seemed to blaze with the light of the fire at his back, snarled he, hefting the poker aloft, "Out! Out! Get out, you insolent oaf!"

The boy knew the man was in earnest and half out of his mind besides, lingering not a moment longer, he turned and fled the chamber and hied himself that moment from the crumbling keep. The housekeeper and guardsman watched him flee with sad eyes, shook their heads in dismay, but had known for many a year that there could be no other end to the tale, but at least this wretched fortress would not utterly consume the boy as it had his forbears, what the outside world might do to him was another matter entirely.

Jace fled with only the clothes on his back, packing was of little matter as he was currently wearing everything he possessed. His only thought was to escape the broken dreams and empty years that lay behind with no concern for what the morrow might hold, for he knew nothing of purpose, joy, peace, hope, or comfort. His world was as cold and lonely as the fortress he had just fled. A miserable drizzle began to fall not long after his flight, forcing him to seek what shelter he could beneath a clump of spruce trees that seemed to huddle together for comfort amid the cold, wet dark. Every fiber of Jace's being cried out to do the same, but one cannot comfortably cuddle with a conifer so there was nothing left to be done but cry himself to sleep.

A wan shaft of sunlight filtered down through the clouds and pierced the fastness of the boy's retreat, bringing him blinkingly awake. He sighed heavily as he gained his feet, seeing no reason to go on save that he was too anxious and grieved of heart to sit still. So off he went into the dawning, grateful that the rain had stopped and that he could now see whither he fled. Which got him to wondering where exactly he was to go. He knew nothing of the outside world, save for forays with the guardsman into the surrounding forest to collect wood or to hunt. He had never even seen a farmer's cot, let alone a village. He had heard the housekeeper mention a city once, a concept he could not quite comprehend, but he was not sure he wanted to venture thither, for she had spoken of it in hushed tones one night with the guardsman as they sat before the kitchen fire, certain the lad was abed and not hiding in the doorway, listening in horrified fascination as she described the demon-worshippers that dwelt therein and the horrid practices with which they maintained their uncanny powers.

He smiled grimly to himself, pondering what was best to be done, as his feet followed a game trail seemingly of their own accord, so little did he notice or care whither his path led. He could wander out into the wilderness and undoubtedly die of exposure or starvation during the coming winter or he could find this city and see if the housekeeper's awful tales were even half true. It might be death either way, but at least he could discover what a city was ere the end. With this grim acceptance, did he suddenly step out of the surrounding woods and look upon a great swath of cultivated land, dotted with farmhouses and well-tended copses, and in the distance loomed the infamous city. He had inherited a little of his father's ambition, so with a grim smile pasted on his face did he set out in quest of what could only be his doom.

His smile became incongruous as his journey progressed in a rather anticlimactic fashion, for though he had prepared himself for sights grim and terrible, the countryside was rather picturesque and the few folk he observed in passing seemed as sensible and down-to-earth as either the guardsman or the housekeeper. He consoled himself with the thought that of course the commonfolk would be of similar disposition to the menials with which he was acquainted, it was only their fell masters that would be workers of such foul magicks. He hastened his steps to discover this inevitability for himself but was again sorely disappointed. He soon found himself in a veritable flood of humanity headed for the city to conduct the day's business. People at first trickled in from the outlying farms and villages but soon converged upon the main road leading into the city.

Jace gazed about him in wonder, never having imagined there could be so many people upon the face of the earth, let alone upon one certain stretch of road. The houses and shops that began to line the way were also strange to his eyes and he goggled like the yokel he was; some of the more world-weary passersby about him smiled in welcome amusement at the lad's befuddlement, for a moment remembering their own forgotten youth. A veritable city had grown up around the walls of the original settlement and many of Jace's fellow travelers vanished into the labyrinthine streets and alleys upon their own errands, but most continued on through the gates, few even glancing at the guards who stood silent watch at the gates and upon the walls, but the boy froze in fascinated terror. His sudden halt brought a few complaints and jostles from those nearest him, but they shoved around him and continued on their way, some giving him a meaningful glare but most shaking their heads in vast amusement.

So too did those fell warriors eye the boy with smiles that never broke the stony facade of their faces. But as more and more people pushed by the lad and entered the gates unscathed, he drew a deep breath and pressed ever onwards into the heart of a city inhabited by sorcerers and worse, though strangely, none of the folk about him seemed overly concerned about their impending doom. He was drawn inexorably to the center of the city where a great castle towered over everything. For a long time he stood as one transfixed, staring up and up and up at the edifice that soared above him. A rueful smile split his lips, for even had he and his descendants ten generations hence worked ceaselessly, never could they hope to make anything like this of that horrid fortress. And thence lay his doom. At last, he gathered his courage and set forth upon the last leg of his final journey, thinking it quite a heroic effort on his part and not a little disappointed that there was not a bard or poet at hand to record the tale. Most of his erstwhile companions had vanished long ago into the city proper and left the bumpkin to stare as he would. So it was that he came to the castle gates and found himself very much alone with a whole host of those grim faced guards just waiting to make a gory end of him. Where was a poet when you needed one?

He stood awkwardly out of the way, studying those who guarded the gates and those who came and went upon their own errands, not finding anything too sinister in any of it. Again rather disappointed, the lad at last made his own approach, knowing his courage was hanging by a thread. His first attempt at speaking failed dismally with the guard looking at him in perplexity and what might, to Jace's horrified mind, be pity!

But the guard saved him from further embarrassment and possible flight by asking, "what can I do for you lad?" He actually smiled, "you need not be so terrified, you are quite safe within the confines of Astoria."

The boy blinked in utter astonishment, could this fearsome warrior truly be speaking to him, and with kindness? Demon-worshippers indeed! Said he at last, a quaver in his voice, "I am in desperate straits, sir, but well know that there is little hope for one such as I in this cold, indifferent world."

The guard nodded in understanding and said gently, "aye lad, many come hither with just such a tale, but take heart, for we shall do all we can to remedy your plight, whatever it be." Jace looked near to fainting with hunger and astonishment, as the man motioned for a servant standing within the courtyard to take charge of the flummoxed lad and see to his comfort. The servant smiled in amusement, having done the same a thousand times before, and easily guided the gaping boy into the castle proper, leaving the guard to speak with the next person awaiting his attention.

At last Jace collected his wits enough to comprehend what the servant was saying, "the morning meal has just finished, but I can bring you something once you are settled." He studied the lad's ragged attire that was more patches than original cloth and smiled wryly, "and I'll see to your wardrobe as well. Have you come to study then?"

Jace froze and studied the man as if he had asked if his father were a toad, said he in astonishment, "study? You must know I could little afford such a luxury!"

The servant grinned, "I suppose it is priceless at that, but come lad, anyone is free to study in Astoria and all the Lady asks is that you abide by her rules whilst you reside in the city."

The boy gaped anew, but a smile danced in his eyes, said he with an incredulous grin, "then I will certainly take you up on that offer, sir." The servant nodded as if it were simple sense and they continued on their way.

He stopped before a door at the end of a long corridor and said, "you can sleep here for now, this room is currently unoccupied but if you stay very long, you will undoubtedly find yourself with roommates rather soon. I'll see about finding you something to eat and some appropriate attire." He smiled broadly as he turned to go, "welcome to Astoria!"

The boy stared wistfully after the retreating form for a moment and then curiously opened the door and entered the room. Glancing about at the small but comfortable chamber, he laughed aloud and said, "demon worshippers indeed!"

"How dreadful!" came a startled and unfamiliar voice.

Jace turned around in surprise to find a girl about his own age, or at least so he assumed, not having much experience in such matters, peeping round the door, a broom forgotten in one hand. She squeaked in dismay, "forgive me, I was just sweeping the hall when I heard your outburst and just had to investigate." She blushed crimson at her own unseemly outburst and though she colored further, pressed on, "can you tell me more about these demon worshippers?"

Jace was not sure whether he was more startled, annoyed, or amused by this perplexing creature, but said as calmly as he could, "I haven't much to tell, for I was only laughing at the incongruity of this place with a description I once heard of it. The old woman was convinced this place was naught but a den of such villains, but I have yet to find them, should they exist."

Briane laughed excitedly, clasping her hands like a little girl, "oh, you will have to look long and hard to find such in Astoria. I have been here all my life and have never heard of such goings on."

Jace smiled wryly at his previous eagerness, "so there isn't anyone in Astoria possessed of uncanny abilities as my unenlightened source assumed?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," came the voice of the returning servant. He gave the girl a patient look, "have you not things to be about?" She squeaked again, dropped a curtsy, and disappeared round the corner with a death grip on her broom. The servant shook his head and smiled ruefully, "the silly girl spends more time eavesdropping than attending to her chores; more curiosity than a cat, has that one."

Jace was gaping again, but the servant ignored him and thrust a pile of clothes and a tray of food into his hands, saying as he did so, "as promised, here is your breakfast and a change of clothes. If you hurry, you can just make it to the next class session. You'll have an official schedule soon, but until then you had best tag alone with some of the other Students." He smiled impishly, "and as to your unasked question, you'll soon discover the answers for yourself if you pay attention in class." He nodded at the boy and vanished about his interrupted errands.

Jace shook himself, frowned in consternation at the servant's retreating back, and then hastily changed his clothes and wolfed down the food, both from hunger and eager to begin his education. Only then did he realize he was alone in an unfamiliar castle with no idea where to find said classes. He shrugged, smiled as his audacity reared its head once more, and dashed down the hall in search of a class or an adventure, whichever came first.

He nearly collided with a pair of slightly older boys as he came careening around the corner, determined not to be late. Suddenly ill at ease, Jace muttered his apologies and stared at his feet. One of the older lads must have heard, 'new here,' amongst Jace's mumbling for he cheerily replied, "don't worry about it! Come with us and we'll help you get settled."

The boy stared up in astonishment, gaping yet again, stuttered he, "how can this be? How can you be bothered with helping me? I don't understand?"

The older pair exchanged a grin, then Adan, the lad who had spoken, clapped the younger boy on the back and smiled, "it seems you have much to learn about life in Astoria. Wherever you came from, it must have been a rough life. But come, else we'll be late." Jace smiled at his reassuring words and then blanched in near panic at the thought of being the cause of their tardiness. The older pair shook their heads in amusement but all three hastened off to class.

Jace remembered little of that first lesson, so overwhelmed was he with all that had happened in the last day and all the novel sights and experiences he had taken in. His erstwhile guides were assigned chores in the stable the following hour, which allowed the overwrought Jace some much needed time to sit and think while his companions shoveled muck. The midday meal offered another course of novelty and wonder to Jace's abused sensibilities, never in his life had he been amidst so many people, and most astonishingly of all, though complete strangers, they actually seemed to care about him. Another round of classes was set for the afternoon, but Jace felt he needed some time alone to sort everything out, and perhaps even a nap after his difficult night. He goggled, less than a full day had passed since his father had cast him out, alone in the night. Adan nodded his understanding and showed him back to the corridor that housed his room, and though he valiantly intended to contemplate upon all that had happened, he fell promptly and soundly asleep.

### 2

A ruckus in the hall wakened the boy as the eager Students returned to their rooms after their last class before going to the evening meal. Jace glanced blearily about, wondering for a moment where he was, but suddenly realization dawned and a great smile lit his face. He had come home at last. He adjusted his rumpled clothing, grateful it was not too wrinkled from his nap and ran a hand through his hair, it would do, then dashed excitedly from the room, again nearly colliding with Adan, who smiled roguishly at the boy and hoped such behavior was not becoming a habit. Said the elder lad with a grin, "it is good to see you so refreshed, you looked rather stunned when we parted and I know you learned nothing in class today, but it seems there is hope for you yet."

Jace smiled ruefully, "it has been quite a day." He glanced hopefully in the direction of the dining hall, even after so short a stay he had become very much accustomed to being fed regularly and well, which was an unlikely occurrence in his former life, said he, "and I'd be happy to tell you all the tale over the evening meal, that is if you care to hear it."

Adan laughed outright, "aye, it must be quite a story indeed, but fear not, there shall be plenty of food to go around."

Jace colored and began studying his boots, abashed that his greatest desire at the moment was so blatantly obvious. Adan glanced at said boots as well and frowned, "but first we had best stop by the supply room and find you a decent pair of boots."

Jace looked up suddenly in surprise, would the miracles in this place never cease? He had never owned a decent pair of boots, this particular pair had been worn by his father when he fled his homeland, ages ago! Adan smiled warmly at the look of grateful astonishment in the lad's eyes and led the way, eager to see the wish fulfilled. The servant in charge of the supply room at that hour took one look at the antique footwear, turned away with a disgusted groan, and vanished into the storage area, reappearing with a worn, but quite serviceable pair of boots that actually fit the agape lad. Rather pleased with himself, the servant smiled smugly and reluctantly took the ancient boots in exchange, his countenance taking on an unruly expression as he did so, their fate remains a mystery to this day but judging from his face, it was not a pleasant one.

As they walked to the dining hall, Jace remarked with an awe tinged voice, "I have never encountered such generosity, not even from my own folk!"

Adan shook his head, his eyes sparkling, "you've seen nothing yet, all we've done this day is see you properly clothed and fed."

Jace froze mid-step and faced his companion, "there's more?!"

Adan clapped him on the shoulder and smiled, "aye, more than you can begin to imagine." They continued on, Jace speechless in incomprehension.

As they sat at table, finishing their food, Jace told his tale, much to the horror and astonishment of Adan and his friends who had joined them for supper. No wonder the boy was so grateful for the least bit of kindness or attention! Adan said at last, "so that is the tale behind that ugly heap of rocks up river? Long have we theorized amongst ourselves about who or what had built it, or rather begun it, and why. It is a grim enough story in its own right." He smiled ruefully, "though nowhere near as horrific as some of the tales we've birthed."

The others shared a wry laugh and eyed their companion with both pity and wonder, Jace awkwardly studied his peas, uneasy being the focus of such attention. Adan continued, more to distract his companions away from their study of the abashed boy than for anything else, "well, this is the place to start over or start anew, if that is your wish. Any idea what you want to do with your life?"

Jace could not restrain his laugh, "it was but a day ago my father cast me out and I encountered true human society for the first time in my life, let alone human kindness. Must I already know the course of my future?"

The others joined in his mirth, forgetting how high were the expectations of their hosts and thus, inadvertently perhaps, their own. Once the laughter had subsided, Jace asked a bit timidly, still uneasy speaking his mind amongst so many strangers, "what is this place? Who founded it? How can they afford to support so many ragamuffin students with no expectation of remuneration? Is there some hidden agenda or trap, for it seems too good to be true?"

Adan smiled, "rest easy my friend, there is nothing sinister or hidden here. You may stay as long as you wish and leave likewise. The only requirement is that you do your best, be respectful of others, and follow the rules as best you can. According to legend, Astoria was founded centuries ago, near the very Beginning. The country is self-sufficient and quite prosperous in its own right, but is also supported by various Kings, Lords, and wealthy benefactors who believe in its mission or have benefited from its services themselves. They have been educating all comers since its foundations were laid."

Jace nodded thoughtfully, "a noble cause I suppose, but who founded it and why? My experience of the world is limited, but I do not see blind philanthropy as a common trait amongst men, someone must have had a reason."

Adan studied his companion thoughtfully, trying to gage his reaction to what was to come, said he at last, "you will learn far more in your initial classes, but the simple answer is: the Master Himself provided for the city's founding as a home for the Brethren and those they serve."

Jace blinked, not having imagined the so far sensible Adan to be one who believed in fairy tales, said he in consternation, "that is what the legends say?"

Adan grinned, "you are a skeptic then?"

Jace shrugged somewhat sheepishly, though he was not the one who seriously thought myth had once walked about under sun and star, "I suppose, though I know little enough of the subject, and of all else for that matter, that I should withhold judgment until I am certain."

Adan nodded, "fair enough, but don't worry, there is no requirement to believe a certain way to study here. Even if you hold it all to be a tall tale, there is still more wisdom to be garnered here than you'll be able to absorb in a lifetime."

Jace smiled in relief, "that is good to know." He frowned thoughtfully, "I met a servant earlier who made a rather cryptic comment about certain individuals around this place having uncanny abilities, but he said I would have to wait for my classes to answer my questions in that regard. Our old housekeeper was convinced the city was inhabited by demon-worshippers, a claim I am certain is wrong, but what is the truth about this place and its denizens?"

Adan smiled in amusement at the servant's evasiveness, he was pretty certain who it was the lad had met, but he said, "the Brethren are purported to have certain gifts given to them in their service to the Master, you will learn far more in days to come if you want specifics, but there is nothing evil in the mix. Uncanny yes, miraculous certainly, but not demonic." He smiled impishly, "how is it you can believe in demons but not the Master?"

Jace frowned at the thought and then smiled ironically, "that is an incongruous thought! But then, I am not sure I believe in demons either, it was just something I overheard and never gave much serious thought until I was bound hither in the dark, alone, after being cast out from all I ever knew. I guess the imagination is prone to embracing the grim and frightening with far less reluctance, especially under such circumstances, than the rational mind is in accepting the supernatural in far more congenial surroundings."

Adan smiled broadly, "my friend, you have come to the right place, for yours is a mind quick and ready to absorb all available wisdom and knowledge, and here you will undoubtedly find ample fodder for thought."

They continued their conversation upon more general topics, for which Jace was thankful, little liking being the center of attention when he was so little used to it; so absorbed was he in all that was said that he did not notice Briane sitting on the edge of the group, studying him with sparkling eyes and a knowing half-smile upon her lips.

Adan saw him back to his quarters after the meal, for even with his nap, Jace was exhausted though sorely disappointed not to be able to participate in the games and conversations held amongst the students that evening, but such was the ritual every night, so he consoled himself with the thought that there was always tomorrow and many days thereafter. Yawning, he bid goodnight to his companion, and was soon asleep.

### Sample Story from 'Over the Hills and Far Away:'

' _Over the hills and far away,'_

thither lies the land of Fey,

Of wandering brook and woodland glade,

Golden meads and dappled shade.

Where evening star is guide and stay

And in the vales, mist doth play.

Dryad, pixie, gnome dwell there,

Griffons lurk and dragons lair.

Songs of old live on there still,

Legend treads on plain and hill.

Beasts that talk and trees that sing,

The poor be rich, a peasant King.

If that land, you would gain,

Take a child in your train,

Let him lead you by the hand,

And you will reach that far, fair land.

~Over the Hills and Far Away~

Up the airy mountains,

Down the rushy glen,

We daren't go a-hunting

For fear of little men;

Wee folk, good folk,

Trooping all together;

Green jacket, red cap,

And white owl's feather!

~William Allingham, 'The Fairies'~

### For Fear of Little Men

Beatrice was missing, and none were fain to seek her, save her little brother, Tibbin, but could a mere child go where grown men feared to tread? Perhaps only a little child could. She had strayed up into the hills after her father's missing sheep and none had seen her for a full three days. No one ventured into those hills, for they were known to be haunted by all manner of folk, strange and fey, and it was folly for mortals to tread thereupon. No, the girl was lost, spirited away or bewitched by some fell being, never more to be seen by mortal men under sun and star, at least not in any natural form; her family might as well accept the truth, embrace their loss, and move on with their lives, or so whispered the villagefolk. But Tibbin was not content to lose his sister thus, but loath were his parents to part with their remaining child, so did he make for those forbidden hills without their knowing or leave, save for a brief note of farewell, imparting his fate. Aghast, his parents asked of their friends and neighbors if any were willing to go after. They merely shook their heads and muttered darkly amongst themselves, who would risk their lives when the boy willingly chose his doom? It was not to be helped. The aggrieved couple went home to wait, perhaps vainly, for news of what had come of their children.

Tibbin was a child but he was not a fool, he was young but also sensible. His elders all feared the fairyfolk, mostly because they did not understand them, albeit they had little interaction with that mysterious kindred and only a few old tales, likely flawed, to rely upon for information pertaining thereunto, but they were also small-minded and superstitious, little liking anything outside their ken, which was pretty much anything and everything outside the confines of their secluded village. Tibbin was still young enough to be untainted by their blindness and prejudice; for his were the wide, unguarded eyes of childhood that saw things as they were rather than as the viewer thought them to be. He was a little leery of the fey folk, as all creatures are of the unknown, but he was not paralyzed or handicapped by unmerited terror as his elders were. Thus did he hie himself into those mysterious hills, the only hope for his sister. He took with him enough bread, cheese, and water to last him a week of hard scrabbling over rocky ground, hoping it would be enough. He took no weapons, save a little knife, which was tool rather than implement of death. With his meager rations and a stout, faithful heart did he set out upon quest great and daring.

He left at twilight when his parents thought him abed, creeping carefully out of the house and into the brushy waste behind, clambering over stones and thorny scrub by the light of a slivered moon and a few bright stars. He went as far as he could in the wan light, at least far enough that pursuit would not follow, and then laid himself down under a gorse bush to find what rest he could. An impertinent bird started trilling in said bush at an unearthly hour, wakening the stiff, cold hero into a misty world of gold and rose. He smiled despite his discomfort and drank in the beauty about him, like a connoisseur a rare and delicate wine. He stretched, breakfasted, and was soon off into the mysterious otherworldliness of dawn, feeling that his adventure was well and truly begun. His sister surely waited around the next bend in the path or just over the hill. He whistled as airily as the bird as he set forth.

His sister was not over the next hill, but a short, stocky man with a prodigious beard sat upon a stone in the thinning mist, smoking his pipe. Asked the boy of the stoic figure, "have you perchance seen or heard of a young girl roaming these hills within the last sevennight, good sir?"

The dwarfish gentleman smiled broadly at the lad's boldness, withdrew his pipe, and exhaled thoughtfully, "aye lad, aye. Not a rabbit goes through these hills without my knowing it. How is it you have the courage to come when none of your elders would bestir themselves?"

Said the boy with a shrug, "none would come, so there was only me. Please sir, have you seen my sister?"

The man nodded sagely, "she's taken up with a few of the pixies that haunt meadow and lea, dangerous consorts for a mortal lass."

The boy paled, "have they harmed her or is she in great peril?"

The dwarf laughed, "aye and nay, lad, aye and nay! Those fairies are as feckless and giddy as any lass your sister's age, but they never grow up or wiser, and neither do they age nor die. They will not hurt a mayfly or aught else, but rather delight in all that is pretty and ephemeral: flowers, butterflies, robin's eggs, and the like. They have no use or comprehension of the greater, eternal things but are like a brook's laugh or a dancing little wind in their seriousness and wisdom. The danger lies in the fact Time and Death mean nothing to them. Your sister, if she is not careful, may get so caught up in their whimsical nonsense that she forgets such things herself and by the time she remembers them, may find herself a very old lady with naught of life left to her. It is a tricky thing when mortals think to involve themselves in matters beyond their ken and natural sphere. Your kind is made for eternity, but must enter it through the proper door, not try to sneak in the window."

The boy was silent for a long while as he contemplated the little man's words, and finally said, "can I draw her back?"

The man nodded, "aye lad, if she will come, but she may be so entranced with the merriment and giddiness of her companions that she will yearn to stay. If she will not go of her own will, no power on earth or beyond it will move her. Take heed to yourself, that you not find yourself also caught up in things beyond your natural sphere. Someday perhaps, such or rather far greater shall be your lot, but do not be tempted into seizing it ere it is time for only trouble will come of it." The boy heartily thanked the old man and hastened in the direction he was bidden. The dwarf watched after and wondered what would come of the lad and his sister, silently shaking his head at the recklessness and abandon of those silly pixies and the inadvertent havoc it could wreak upon a mortal creature.

Tibbin had not gone far when he spied a rather curious creature crouching in the shade of a great oak. It appeared to be a lad his own age, but his full height would only reach his father's knee; he was light of build, eye, and hair and his ears were slightly tapered. He winked at the staring boy, motioned eagerly for the lad to follow, and vanished into the hedge of roses at the base of the tree. Tibbin took two happy steps after the fairy creature but then froze, his quest was his sister, not to be caught up in a fate like unto hers. He sighed heavily but turned staunchly back upon his original path and intent. The little creature watched after, for a moment a little disappointed, but then some other amusement soon caught his attention and his lost companion was immediately forgotten.

By the time the sun was on its downward journey, Tibbin had come to the little meadow wherein the dwarf said his sister and her merry companions might be found on occasion. He settled down in a thicket of young birches to await their coming. Neither was the wait to be tedious, dull, or lonely. The world, in itself, was young, spry, pleasant, and full of the wonders of spring, but those hills were haunted by all manner of folk and creature unknown to the children of men, and in this varied parade, Tibbin found endless marvel and interest. Most ignored him, some were openly scornful, and a few asked him to follow in their merry wake, but ever he sat and awaited the coming of Beatrice and her fairy companions. So did he wait for three full days, eating from his scant provisions and refreshing himself in the ever singing brook by which he sat, finally on a night of mist and moon and starlight, five bright figures came laughing and dancing into the water meadow, Beatrice as radiant and blithe as her companions.

Tibbin rose from his place with a joyous shout and for a moment the pixies quivered like frightened birds, but soon they arrayed themselves about him in a merry dance of welcome and curiosity. Beatrice at first did not know him, but as his song joined in their lilting chorus, his well loved voice broke the thrall about her and she joyously left her place in the circle and flew into her brother's arms with tears of unspeakable longing and delight. The piping and cavorting of the fairies increased tenfold at such mirth and delightedly did they share therein, but soon they tired of the newcomer and were rather perplexed and no little troubled by the strange sobbing that now wracked their once gay companion. For nothing did they know of sorrow or death. With a merry call, did they bid Beatrice to flit off with them anew, careless once more, but she smiled sadly, wiped a mysterious moisture from her eyes and cheek, and shook her head adamantly. The pixies shrugged indifferently and capered off into the creeping mist to join the dance of the fireflies, their companion utterly forgotten. Beatrice shook her head ruefully, took Tibbin's hand, and returned to his place amongst the birches. They slept soundly until roused by the zealous chorus of a morning in spring. Hand in hand, they left that lovely meadow and turned their steps and hearts longingly towards home.

They met the little man, still sitting on his accustomed stone and smoking his pipe, perhaps as he had done since the first morning of the world. He smiled joyously at them, waved enthusiastically, and then vanished. They shared a mystified smile and continued on their way. They might have slept another night in the bush but knew their parents were mourning their presumed fate and were eager to turn their weeping to joy. So it was that joy came with the morning. Their father stood aback the house, staring morbidly off into the hills and thought himself in a delirium when he glimpsed his lost children walking blithely back from the land of things forgotten and unknown. He trumpeted his wonder and joy so loudly that the entire village was roused. His wife came disbelieving from the house, took one look at what had so disquieted her husband, and added her own shriek of pure joy to the cacophony of laughing welcome and wonder.

The grim eyed, fretful villagers gathered round the happy little foursome and muttered darkly about curses, possession, and worse. A few even clutched a kitchen knife, pitchfork, or wood axe in nervous dread. The now grave father stood forth and asked of his disturbed folk, "my children have returned unscathed, why do you not rejoice?"

Said one distrustful old man, "who are you to say they are unscathed? Who knows what terrible curse might have been laid upon them? None venture into those hills and returns unchanged, if they return at all. They are a threat and a danger to us all as long as they remain among us. Send them back or send them away lest evil befall us all, else we will take matters into our own hands."

The man shook his head in grim disgust, but before he could reply to this nonsense, Tibbin took his hand, looked gently into his eyes, and said with a wisdom far beyond his years, "heed him not father, he knows not of what he speaks and no words of yours will change his mind." Unchanged indeed! The man smiled down at this young sage, caught the eyes of all his dear ones, and then looked once more upon those mysterious hills. A brilliant flicker of gold and white upon a far hill, like a distant star, filled all his vision and called bewitchingly to his very soul. Said Tibbin with tremulous, but joyous finality, "come, come away!" He took his father's hand, his mother and sister joined theirs also, and the entire family boldly made for that distant vision, the flummoxed villagers parting before them like water around the bow of a boat. They vanished into those wondrous hills and were seen in that village no more. Many and dark were the rumors of the witchery that had taken an entire clan and the grim fate that had undoubtedly befallen them, but I can assure you, they were all of them wrong.

### Sample of The Greylands: Volume IV:

### The Sundrake:

Kipril stared off into the sunset, enjoying the furious colors as the bright orb settled reluctantly into the Sea. He sighed wistfully and turned his back on the breathtaking scene, wending his way towards home. His weird whistles were answered by the high-pitched, musical voices of his master's small flock of Sea Drakes winging their eager way towards the cave-riddled sea cliff where they sheltered at night and during the violent storms that often battered the Western coast of Almaria, the largest island in the great archipelago nation of Vesper. The slave boy's main duty was as drakekeeper to his master's little breeding flock. He it was that oversaw every aspect of their keeping, breeding, training, and sale. The creatures obediently settled into their cliff-side caverns for the night with a mixture of hisses, whistles, and screeches as they disputed over favorite roosting places. Kipril smiled in amusement, seeing in his mind the minor fracas that commenced in the caves below with his beloved creatures. He stopped briefly in the ramshackle shed to unload his gear and then made his way towards the crumbling cottage that perched precariously on the verge of the cliff, wherein waited his master and supper.

Darfer was an aging, stoic man who greeted the boy with a grunt as he finished laying the table for supper. He had never married, had never wished to; he had no living relatives and no close friends. He lived alone, save for the boy, but slaves were not considered company. The boy quietly reported that nothing of great interest had occurred that day amongst the breeding flock or with the fledglings he was training. Darfer grunted in reply as he sat in his accustomed spot beside the fire while the boy pulled up a stool on the far end of the table. They did not speak all through the simple meal or during the few hours that remained before bed. The boy busied himself with mending some of his equipment while the man smoked his pipe and stared into the fire. Once the fire had died down to barely glowing coals, the man found his grimy bed while the boy ascended into the loft and lay down on the heather-stuffed mattress that was his bed. In the morning, a silent breakfast was eaten and then each immediately set about his daily chores. The boy went out to his drakes and the man was busy about the homestead with the various chores necessary to existence. Such was their simple life and so it continued, day after day, year after year.

The boy was lonely, but he hardly knew it, for his whole life he had known only the old man, the drakes, and the Sea. He enjoyed his quiet life and neither expected nor dreamed of any other. He was good at what he did and therein he was content. The small breeding flock was stirring as he emerged from the little hut and whistled for his charges. The day was just beginning to grow warmer and they were reluctant to emerge from their roosts into the damp and yet chill dawn, but hunger drove them out into the morning with eager squawks of greeting for their Keeper. They hovered eagerly near the edge of the cliff until he had accounted for each one and then he motioned for them to head out to sea to fish for their daily meal. The creatures bugled in excitement and were soon lost to sight.

Kipril whistled again, but this time in a very different manner and an eager, though cracking croon answered his call. An ancient drake flapped laboriously up from his cave and perched on the edge of the cliff, keening in pleasure as the boy scratched his head. The boy mounted the aged creature who soon followed the others out to Sea. The flock had found a great school of fish teeming not far from the coast and were eagerly bobbing and diving in pursuit of their favorite prey. Kipril's beast settled on the edge of the area where the flock hunted and floated along like a great duck, contenting himself with occasionally snapping at a frightened fish that tried to flee his voracious conspecifics.

Their hunger sated, Kipril whistled again, and with a contented roar, all of the creatures were soon aloft and winging their way towards the warm beach where they would bask for several hours during the heat of the day. The flock settled contentedly on the beach; the boy inspected each of the creatures, noting one of the females was showing early signs of heat, but otherwise they all seemed happy and healthy. He left them to their basking and made his way towards a cave on the far side of the beach. From within came eager screeches and whistles; the fledglings were hungry and eager for the warmth of the sun. Kipril whistled and the creatures grew silent, this was the last brood hatched and though young, they already knew what was expected before they were fed. They could not yet fly and fed by scavenging on the beach or fishing in the shallows. Kipril took them out, one at a time, and worked on various lessons as they foraged. Once satiated, they lounged on the beach with their elders, though well out of reach of the possibly aggressive adults. So passed the day, as the sun set, Kipril whistled them home once more.

As they sat over their silent evening meal, a knock came at the door. The old man continued to eat while the boy quickly rose and answered the summons. A lean young man in the livery of some great lord stood outside in the dark. Said he without preamble, "is this the house of Darfer, the Drakekeeper."

"It is," said the boy, trying to hide his eagerness at this potential customer; he loved nothing more than exhibiting his drakes to an appreciative audience, "won't you come in?"

The man continued, "have you any beasts for sale?"

The boy nodded, "we have a clutch that is two months old and coming along well with basic training; they will be ready to begin more advanced training before very long and flying soon after that."

The man looked disappointed, "have you nothing rideable?"

The boy shook his head, "we have only the breeding flock which is not trained. Our sole riding beast is too old and feeble for much beyond our morning fishing forays."

The man looked truly saddened, "a pity, for it is said you have the best beasts anywhere in Vesper, but my master is looking for a creature able to carry a rider. I thank you for your trouble." He turned and walked away into the darkness and Kipril shut the door slowly after him. Darfer only grunted in irritation and continued eating. The boy sighed and returned to his own meal though he now had little heart for his food.

Vesper was a prosperous and peaceful Kingdom, so far away from anywhere else in the world that it was little troubled by outsiders. There were no mammals native to the archipelago, but a variety of strange reptilian creatures were discovered there by the first pioneers brave or foolish enough to land on those shores back in the dim mists of time. The voyage from the nearest outpost of civilization was long and arduous, not to mention dangerous with the great storms that often battered the coast, travelers were glad to reach the islands themselves, let alone hoping to bring any domestic stock safely through the treacherous journey. So it was that the native fauna was domesticated and adapted for use by the burgeoning civilization. The Sea Drakes were a lithe, winged reptile with long neck and tail, large and strong enough to carry a grown man aloft. They were quite useful for medium to long distance travel, as well as travel between the islands. For shorter distances, there was a bipedal, long-legged beast called a Runner. A heavy quadruped was used for draught purposes and a variety of smaller beasts of various type were used for hunting, farm work, guarding the homestead, sending messages, and companionship. There was even a subspecies of the draught beast that grazed the vast meadows of the island which was found both in domestic and wild forms, the former provided a source of meat and hides while the latter was a favorite of hunters, both peasant and noble alike.

Slaves were quite common in those days, but they were far better treated than many of their class in other lands and times. Most were slaves by birth, necessity, or reduced to such status for unpaid debt or as punishment for some crime. One could be born into slavery yet one could also buy his freedom or be freed by a generous master or the King. Those who could not take care of themselves, at least the able bodied, often ended up in such straits, especially orphans with no one to take them in; such was the case with Kipril. His unnamed mother had left him on the doorstep of Darfer's forsaken cottage as a small child; the man had taken the lad in, but refusing to adopt him as a son, took him on as a slave. The boy had little hope of ever freeing himself, but perhaps when his master grew old or died, he would become master of the wretched cottage and the small flock of drakes and thereby become a free man. But this was all in the very distant future and nothing the lad thought of on a regular basis, ever were his thoughts busy with his drakes and their training.

The days passed in their steady plod, the fledglings grew and learned, the female was bred and the clutch laid, and the boy looked eagerly forward to their hatching. He had seen many a hatchling struggle forth from the leathery shell of its prison, but each new hatching never ceased to be a source of boundless pleasure and joy. The female laid her eggs in the sand of that warm beach, but well away from the raging tide and her clumsy flock mates. Ever she lay near them, turning them when they grew too warm or cold, guarding them from any harm. She would not leave her nest until they had hatched and then the little ones would be on their own, at least they would have been had not Kipril ever been watching over them and anticipating the day of their hatching. Finally, on a cold, damp morning after a tempestuous storm, the little ones began whistling in their shells and breaking forth with a vengeance. The female, content that she had done her duty by her offspring, headed out to sea for a much needed feeding, leaving her brood to the whims of nature or rather the care of the faithful Drakekeeper.

He waited patiently, as each wet and wriggling creature broke free of its shell. They were ravenous little beasts and eagerly consumed the food he offered them, thus gentling them to humans in their first impressionable hours. Eight of the little creatures had broken loose and the final egg was rocking violently until suddenly the beast was free and Kipril's heart froze in his chest. The others were all of varying shades of blue and green, like the sea, but this little creature was colored as the sunset, all in gold and deepest orange. He stared in amazement, never in all his years amongst the drakes had he ever seen or heard of anything like this! But this was no time for astonishment, the little one had to be fed. Once satiated, the sleepy hatchlings were easy enough to pick up and deposit in the safety of a special pen at the back of the cavern the fledglings inhabited. The curious older brood squawked and chirruped at this strange interruption to their usual schedule; they were starting to leap into the air and would soon be awing, Kipril hoped to have sold the lot of them before then, because after they could fly they were a great deal more work and he would already have his hands full with this new hatch as it was.

He finished his chores as the sun was setting, he whistled up his flock, and headed for home with his strange news for old Darfer. He entered the hut as usual, met by the same indifferent grunt, and then told of the hatching and the bizarre young drake. Darfer froze and for the first time in remembrance, the man spoke, "what did you say?" Kipril repeated what he had said and the man said aghast, "are you sure?" The boy gave the man an affronted stare, as he continued, "this cannot be! There are legends...but they are legends! Not prone to happen in our drab lives." He snatched up a lantern and ordered the boy to follow as he dashed out of the hut and down to the seaside cave. The younglings squawked in surprise and annoyance to be disturbed at such an hour but Darfer paid them no heed as he stared in amazement at the new brood. There, curled up amongst her drab siblings, was the legendary Sundrake. He hastened the boy back to the house and there confronted him, "have you any idea what this means?" The boy shook his head in confusion and the old man considered for a moment that Kipril's education had been solely in his hands and he had never told him the old stories.

He motioned for the boy to sit on his stool before the dying fire as he paced the room, saying, "legend tells of such a creature, legend nearly as old as Vesper. When our forefathers landed on these shores, an old prophet washed ashore in a decrepit little boat, the sole survivor of a tragic shipwreck. He did not live long after his rescue, but before he died, he foretold that such a creature would one day appear and when it did, we must prepare ourselves, for a great darkness would soon overshadow us and destroy us utterly if we were not ready. He said that the beast and its master would be the key to victory. We must get word to the King!" He looked grimly at the boy, "I am too old for such a journey, you must take the old beast and make your way to the capital city of Versa." The boy was both eager for such an adventure but also fearful that all his careful work would come to naught in his absence. The old man scoffed a laugh, "fear not for your precious drakes! I can manage in your stead, remember who it was that taught you in the first place." The boy was quite relieved and after a quick supper, went straight to bed that he might be away first thing in the morning.

Just as the sky began to pearl with the first hints of dawn, Kipril whistled up his ancient beast, who snarled in irritation to be wakened well before his usual hour, but he came forth regardless. He flew the old beast out to sea and let him dine on a reasonable number of fish, not letting him gorge or he would be too stuffed to fly far. Once the beast was fed, they stopped briefly to collect what the boy would need for his trip, and then they were soon away. The beast was eager at first to see new lands beneath his wings, but with each passing hour his strength waned, each stroke of his great wings became more difficult, and as he weakened, his pace slowed and he lost height, until at last he was nearly skimming the trees which forced the distraught boy to urge the creature to land. It was quite an ungainly landing but not quite a crash, but the boy knew the beast was unlikely ever to fly again. His heart ached, for he was quite fond of the old fellow but his mind raced, trying to discern a way to complete his urgent errand without his faithful companion. The noise of their landing must have disturbed the local residents, for a number of them came running to see what all the ruckus was about. They stared in wonder, few had ever seen a Sea Drake this close before. They were common enough overhead, but few were found this far inland unless their masters had some errand in the area, which was unlikely, considering the neighborhood.

A man in his middle years approached the terrified boy, who had never seen so many people in his life, though they numbered less than a dozen souls. The man was the local innkeeper and he knew a thing or two about beasts; he knew as well as the boy that this weary creature would never again tread the paths of the sky. The boy was nearly desperate to continue on his way, but his ragged appearance spoke of his poverty and his inability to procure the resources necessary for such a journey. Said the man gently to the cringing boy, "easy lad, can we be of assistance?" Tears filled the boy's eyes as he shook his head, though whether of grief or frustration, the man was unsure. Asked the man, "what brings you all the way from the coast with so ancient a creature?"

The boy squeaked, "I must reach the King, my master set me a vital errand and now I will never reach the capital."

The Innkeeper said thoughtfully, "your beast is done lad, and it would seem your journey too, but I will tell you what. Give me your beast, I'll salvage what I can from him. His hide at least would be worth something. In exchange, I'll loan you one of my runners to make your journey on, and you can stay at the inn and have a bit to eat both tonight and on your return. What say you?" The boy was stunned, he had never anticipated anything like kindness in the wilds of civilization nor did he like the idea of selling what very nearly was his dearest friend for the price of his hide, but the creature was certainly in distress and there was no other way he would ever finish the journey afoot. He nodded grimly, the innkeeper motioned for one of his serving girls to take charge of the boy, and he and several of the menfolk would see to ending the creature's misery. With a last, pathetic look at the broken creature, the boy followed the kindly woman into the inn.

His first night in a real bed would have been quite refreshing had he not spent the whole time thinking about what was yet to come; his reeling mind left little time or chance for sleep. Having something besides fish stew morning, noon, and night also was a novel experience. He stretched, yawned, and went down to speak with the innkeeper about what was to come. He greeted the boy warmly, saw that he got some breakfast, and went about finishing his morning chores while the boy ate. Once the boy was sated, the innkeeper brought out an old map but the boy only stared at it in incomprehension. The man shook his head in exasperation at whoever had so severely neglected the boy's education and then sent him on such an errand alone. He briefly explained maps and their use and pointed out the best way to reach Versa. The boy was used to seeing things from the air so easily caught on to the concept. The innkeeper then took him out to the stableyard, showed him how to handle and care for a runner, and then saw that he had enough food and supplies to get him to Versa and back.

Kipril stuttered in wonder, "I thank you sir for you kindness!" Never in all his years of faithful service had his master been half so generous as this stranger. He climbed aback the squatting beast, urged it to stand, and the next moment they were running down the road at a quick clip. Kipril much preferred the freedom of the air, but there was a sense of speed and recklessness one felt aback such a steed that for a time, he simply enjoyed the exhilaration of the ride.

They rode on until there was barely light to see, stopping occasionally to water and rest the beast as the innkeeper had instructed him, but otherwise pushing the beast as fast as he could go over such a distance. Kipril tethered the beast near the wooded edge of a meadow where it could hunt for mice, insects, and small birds amongst the brush. There were no native mammals in Vesper, but rodents had come ashore with their unwitting human chauffeurs. Kipril crawled beneath a bush and was soon fast asleep. Morning found him wet with dew and stiff from his unaccustomed ride. He stretched, ate something out of his saddlebags, tended to the beast, and was soon on his way. The ritual continued for several days until they reached the great city of Versa one bright midday.

Kipril gawked about him in wonder, never having dreamed of such architecture or so many people, though the complexity and number of both had increased exponentially as they neared the center of civilization in the archipelago. But his bucolic eyes had never seen nor dreamed of such a sight. The runner was reduced to a slow plod as they found themselves caught in the thronging streets of the crowded city. Their destination was obvious, as the great castle towered over everything. They reached the gates of the castle and the boy thought to ride straight through, but the guards crossed their weapons in front of him, blocking his way. He looked at the men with such pleading and desperate eyes, they nearly let him pass simply out of pity, but they had their orders.

Said the senior officer posted there, "you cannot just ride in and see the King lad."

The boy said in a barely audible whisper, "but I must, sir! I bear dire news and my master has bid me tell the King."

The guard shook his head sadly and said, "off with you lad, the King cannot be disturbed, even for such portentous tidings as you no doubt bear."

The boy frowned, wondering whether the man was taunting him or simply trying to assuage his feelings. He decided on the latter, as there was only pity in the man's tone. Kipril nodded dully and turned his runner to go. "Hold on a moment lad," came a voice scratchy with age, "perhaps we can be of use to one another." The boy glanced about and found the source of the voice; an old man in deep blue robes shuffled over and peered up at him with smiling eyes full of wisdom and kindness. The boy's disappointment turned to curiosity as a small grin graced his lips; he nodded his eagerness. The man took the reins of the runner and led him off to a small inn where they could talk undisturbed.

After procuring a loaf of bread and a bit of nameless stew, they sat quietly as the boy ate ravenously. Once his hunger was satisfied, the man began, "you seem to have dire news you would tell the King yet you cannot gain an audience, peasant that you are?"

The boy sighed, "less than even a peasant sir, for you speak with a slave."

The man shrugged, "what is that to me? You are still human, no less so for your meager social status. Pray, continue."

The boy brightened at this and said, "I thought only to broach this matter to the King, but I feel perhaps I can trust you sir."

The man nodded, "what shall pass between us shall remain secret, save if you would have me tell his Majesty the King, for I happen to have his ear from time to time."

The boy seemed to melt with relief, but soon his excitement to share his news caused him to burst forth, "it is about the Sundrake!"

The man frowned, "what about it lad? We all know the legends, but men have been watching and dreading its advent for centuries, all to no avail."

The boy shivered at the gravity in the man's voice, "but it has come."

The man paled in fear and then said eagerly, "can this be true?"

The boy nodded vigorously, "we had a clutch hatch several days ago and one of the hatchlings is colored like the sunset. Could it be anything else?"

The man shook his head in astonishment, "it must be so lad, but we must be very cautious in who hears of this. There are many who would use this event for their own gain and would be most ready to kill for it."

The boy shivered and asked, "what do I do?"

The man, Ubert by name, said thoughtfully, "we had best get you and this miraculous hatchling somewhere safe and secure, where it can be hidden until the time is right to make this known to the world. You go back to your master and tell him you have delivered your message and the King will soon enough take the matter into consideration. I will follow not long after and see if I can convince your master to give you and the creature into my keeping that we may secret you both away until the appointed time. Then, after all is safe, and only then, will I broach the matter to the King and thereafter we will act as we must."

The boy frowned, "why not take this matter to the King first?"

The man smiled, for the boy had a sharp mind, "lad, there is more at work here than the King's will. He is surrounded by many servants, nobles, and advisors, many of which are unreliable and would love nothing better than to spread gossip of such an event, and there are undoubtedly some of a treacherous nature who would stop at nothing to claim the beast for themselves. Even the King, perhaps might act in a manner unworthy of his position and thereby endanger all of Vesper. No, it is best we take this privately to the King only after all is safe and secure, so that if we are betrayed, the creature not fall into the wrong hands." The boy nodded his agreement, wondering if men could truly be so vile as to endanger Vesper's future for their own profit. He shivered and knew that they could.

### On Heroes: A Foible

Aido had been an under-clerk for the Department of Prophecy Amelioration for over a decade, and at last he was about to embark on his first undercover investigation. He had been in training for years: working out, perfecting his combat techniques, learning to procure and prepare 'wild food,' studying old maps and forgotten languages, familiarizing himself with the prophetic writings of every culture, real or imagined, learning the arts of healing, riding, and woodcraft, and only shaving every third day. Finally, his superiors had decided that he was ready to be promoted to the rank of Investigator for the Sub-department of Hero Isolation and Containment. He happily walked over to the Repository of Draught and Riding Beasts to procure his very own work vehicle; hopefully something in a blood bay with a little spirit, but that was asking for too much, after all, his was a bureaucratic position.

At least he was not assigned the riding ox or the donkey that would only go left regardless of whether you asked him to stop, turn, or back up. He took the reins from the bored looking kid who worked the desk and looked over his new wheels skeptically; it had four legs at least, that was a start. The sorrel coat would blend in with every other horse on the planet, which was far from exciting, but perhaps being inconspicuous would be an advantage in the field. It would get him where he needed to go in an efficient manner and that was all the Department cared about. He sighed and led the beast out of the Repository and parked it in the loading area before going to retrieve the rest of his equipment.

If the horse wasn't exciting, maybe his weapons allotment would be. Aido stood in line for what seemed hours as a fusty old lady pottered about behind the counter of the Dispensary of Potentially Lethal Implements, adjusting her glasses and scratching her head in confusion every three seconds. Finally his turn came and he handed over the paperwork requisitioning what he would need for his field investigation. She stared at him blankly, blinked a few times like a confused chicken, and then after a few minutes of silence said, "you will have to come back after the Midday Ingestion Break, Investigator. You know it is against Regulations for me or anyone else to do any sort of Official Business between the hours of Twelve and Thirteen." He stared at her in astonishment, not believing it was already that late in the day and dreading the thought of more delay, but there was nothing to be done. If either of them were caught working over the Break, the results would be catastrophic. He said something inconsequential and made his way to the Room of Edible Procurement and then returned to the Dispensary to wait, finding that he had lost his place in line. He sat down with a sigh and tried not to weep in frustration. Finally, just before the Afternoon Refreshment Period, he was allowed to get his allotment of PLIs. Like the horse, there was nothing at all interesting about the assortment of weapons but they were functional at least.

Quite nervous that he would not be able to leave today after all, he hurried to the Division of Wardrobe Affairs to outfit himself for his new role and thankfully arrived after the Refreshment Period. He stared glumly at the bundle of clothing, knowing it looked like it was supposed to but that the material and craftsmanship would not hold up if he encountered any weather that was not sunny and warm. The middle-aged clerk watched his reaction carefully, with a slight sneer on his face, saying as he saw Aido's dismay, "don't blame me, we have limited time to make the stuff and whoever bought the material got a great deal on it, but I wouldn't use it for rags, but it ain't my fault."

Aido sighed again and left with his allocation of lousy clothes. Finally, with the sun low on the horizon, he returned to his nondescript horse to pack and be gone, but it took him another half hour to figure out which of the eight sorrel geldings in the loading area was his. When he finally identified the beast, he almost turned right around and demanded his old job back, for there was a parking ticket tucked into the creature's bridle. He glanced at the sign, thirty minute parking indeed! He loaded the saddlebags and swung into the saddle. With a grim smile, he crumpled up the fine and tossed it over his shoulder and then urged his horse to a trot before anything else could delay him.

He stood outside the Edifice of Monetary Exchange and wanted to scream. He needed to make a withdrawal from the Department's account to finance his journey but the facility was closed and would not open again for three days, as it was an Obscure Holiday Weekend (Foot Fungus Awareness Day). Aido could not wait that long or his superiors would demand to know why he was so inefficient in his duties. He had no choice but to hope there was a branch Edifice in one of the villages through which he would undoubtedly pass. He turned his mediocre beast and made his way out of the city. Darkness had fallen, forcing him to pull over for the night. He glanced about hopefully, but there was no sign of either an Approved Nocturnal Repose Sight or a House of Temporary Accommodation for Wayfarers. He could get in trouble for camping in an unapproved fashion but it was a risk he would have to take, and with the mood he was in, he was quite ready to defy any and every regulation he could think of. He even built a fire without a permit from the Incendiary Activity Coordinator and used wood without asking leave of the Arboreal Comptroller. The cheery blaze revealed a sardonic smile on the face of the Investigator as he rethought the day and began to wonder at his previous eagerness for this assignment.

He had always been as much a stickler for the rules as any petty bureaucrat could be, but after all the headache and frustration of the day, he began to wonder at his previous zeal for such stipulations. With these uneasy thoughts on his mind, he turned over and tried to sleep in as unregulated a fashion as possible. The birds awoke far earlier than any sensible regulatory body or department could fathom, a challenge the Avian Affairs Agency was still trying to bring under control, but the small, feathered fiends just would not submit to their authority though fines and imprisonment had all been tried, alas to no avail. Aido was glad there was something in the Universe that had as yet defied regulation and even more grateful that he would be up and on his way long before the lackeys of the Thoroughfare Safety and Compliance Administration were abroad. His more sensible side began to regret his rashness with the parking ticket, but another part of him laughed mercilessly at the part that fretted over such a trifling matter. He gathered up his gear, mounted his horse, and continued on his way.

It was just the sort of day to prolong the usefulness of his standard issue substandard clothing and his heart rejoiced in the beauty of the morning, quite insensible that he was violating at least nine subparagraphs of the Modern Aesthetic Code, which frowned upon such natural splendor and the enjoyment thereof, rather preferring the appreciation of the far more grotesque and grim (not to mention more financially lucrative) products of the modern writers, musicians, and painters. But what did this mere underling know of High Culture and the Finer Things of Life? He rode along amongst the bucolic charm all about him, content in his ignorance. The plain old horse jogged along indifferent to the countryside about him, and therefore quite obviously a lover of Fine Things and of a higher social order than his master. They came to a sizable market town that afternoon and Aido hoped to make a successful withdrawal from his work account to finance the remainder of his mission, else the paperwork to obtain a reimbursement of his expenditures would take the rest of his mortal days to accomplish.

He stopped before the newest and ugliest building in town, certain that it must be what he sought. It was, but like every other public institution, it was also closed in observance of an Official Obscure Holiday Weekend. Apparently his work related expenditures would have to be passed on to his children as an inheritance as he would not live long enough to be reimbursed. He sighed and urged the beast out of town before he started screaming in frustration and risked being locked away as a lunatic or a disturber of the peace. Aido rode on for another hour before stopping alongside a happy creek, where he decided to take a break from his saddle and water his highly efficient mode of transportation. He mused upon his assignment and its futility as he leaned on the bridge railing and watched the gladsome water frolic in its stony channel beneath him. He wished his life could be as happy and careless as that unceasing flow. Another day of riding would bring him to his destination, perhaps his previous enthusiasm would then return once he was truly doing what he had always dreamt of doing one day and for which he had spent his entire life preparing. With a heavy sigh he climbed back into his saddle, knowing chances were very good that only his loathing would grow in the days to come, for his heart had grown cold towards his first and only love. He rode on, wondering what he was riding towards or perhaps more correctly what he was trying to escape.

He passed through several small villages while the day lasted, each with its own Regulation Stopping Places but he ignored them and rode on, enjoying the illicit thrill of thwarting the over-regulation under which he had happily toiled his entire life. Thankfully it was a Holiday Weekend, else he might not have made it through the first village without being apprehended by the local constabulary for his various, heinous crimes against humanity and the world in general, to say nothing about the discarded traffic citation. He rode on through more and more villages, each more forgettable than the last, laid out in the precise pattern required by the Zoning Commission of Outlying Settlements. He camped again in an unregulated fashion before rising on the Official Obscure Holiday and rode into Happytown in time for the Midday Ingestion Break. He glanced around uneagerly at yet another cookie cutter village and sighed, but he had work to do. He entered the Requisite Lodging and Nourishment Establishment for Transients, the only place open on an Official Obscure Holiday, and allowed the flighty teenaged hostess to seat him in the nearly empty common dining area and acknowledged that he would gladly consume the Daily Balanced and Nutritious Repast. She returned with the unassuming concoction in a bowl and set a mug of some viscous purplish-green liquid before him that smelled of aged turnips and old socks, which immediately killed what little appetite he had.

As he was staring balefully at his inedible Repast, a man with a knowing look in his eyes seated himself beside the Investigator and smiled superciliously at him. Said the newcomer without preamble, "you work for the Feds don't you." It was not a question.

Aido looked up in surprise but did not deny it, saying, "what gave me away?"

The man's smile became condescending, "anyone dressed in cloth of that poor a make must either be destitute or a government employee." He laughed in derision, "my brother is a fabric merchant and makes a handsome living by selling such pathetic material by the square acre to lackeys in the Department of Acquisition and Distribution of Necessary Consumables. He makes more per yard from that flimsy stuff than he does selling the finest material available to the Great Lords."

Aido smiled ironically, "that does not surprise me in the least."

Said the stranger, "so what are you doing here? Obviously you are here on Official Unofficial Business else you'd be in a Right and Proper Uniform."

Said Aido warmly, "I am here to discover if any Heroes might be budding in Happytown. Certain of the Prophecies hint at just such an Occurrence in the very near future."

The man laughed, "trying to thwart Prophecy again, are they? Will you people ever realize there are just some things government cannot control?"

Aido stared at his regulation soup in dismay, "that I highly doubt."

Said the man eagerly, "so just what happens if you discover said Hero?"

Aido said dryly, "we offer him a great government job. If he declines that, then he gets to attend Mandatory Reeducation Sessions for the Socially Dysfunctional and will inevitably end up committing suicide, excuse me, I mean he will choose Elective Self Annihilation."

"Lovely," said his companion, "you people have a title for everything!"

Aido smiled wryly, "the Department of Nomenclature is the biggest division of the government." He glanced around furtively and said, "I would rather get out of this line of work. The sooner the better."

The stranger brightened, "with that I may be of assistance." He continued with an amused smile, "are you aware that you are a fugitive?"

Aido frowned, "I was not aware that it was Official, but it would not surprise me, though it is an Obscure Holiday. The parking fine?"

The stranger laughed, "you didn't?!"

Aido caught his amusement and nodded, "I carelessly tossed it aside." He then whispered, "among other vicious crimes."

The stranger smiled deeply, "then I will gladly aid your disappearance. We criminals must stick together. Come!" They stood silently, heartlessly leaving the inedible fodder on the table and a less than standard tip for the Hostess.

As they walked inconspicuously down the street, Aido noticed several posters bearing his face and emblazoned with directions for his immediate apprehension. They continued their steady, unhurried progress (so as not to draw attention) and turned down a smaller lane that apparently vanished into the neatly managed coppice behind the village. Eventually the Regulation Side Path crossed the threshold into the Unregulated and Semi-wild Wooded Area and became as unmanaged as the forest through which it wound. They continued on in silence for nearly an hour, and only when they felt themselves truly alone and unobserved did the stranger finally speak, "so what has prompted your flight from Order my friend?"

Aido laughed, "I set out with every good intention of fulfilling my orders but it seemed at every turn there was a governmentally imposed hindrance to me accomplishing my task or even surviving for an hour without unneeded frustration and complication. That and the ride out here gave me plenty of time to consider life and the lack of meaning therein."

The stranger smiled broadly, "welcome to the first day of a purposeful life my friend. I am called Gunyon and am a member of the Freemen for Commonsense."

Aido grinned, "that sounds like something birthed in the Department of Nomenclature."

Gunyon laughed, "it was, we social rebels had not yet got around to naming our pathetic little society and the guys over at Nomenclature could not abide having such an as yet unnamed group running at large so they came up with a name for us."

"Just what does this society of yours do?" asked Aido as they trekked deeper into the confines of the wood.

Gunyon shrugged, "we really haven't accomplished much of anything yet. We started only a few months ago as a small group of annoyed citizens who occasionally met to grouse about too much Order over Tea. Of course our Tea Time was not considered the Official Hour for Consuming Brewed Beverages so the authorities soon started to take notice. We each received a rather nasty letter, in triplicate of course, indicating that we had best mend our ways or there would be Dire Consequences."

"What did you do?" asked Aido, both amused and aghast.

Gunyon smiled, "we went underground of course. On the outside we are just monotonous citizens but when no one is looking..." he paused for effect, "we each of us are rather disorderly and unique."

"Your crimes far outweigh mine, sir," said Aido with a respectful bow.

Gunyon smiled in anticipation, "but you have hardly begun to rebel my friend. I think you could make quite a career of it." For the first time since he left his old life behind, Aido felt the first stirrings of eagerness and what he was startled to realize must be hope.

Once Aido was completely confused as to direction and the hour, they stood outside an old fashioned but well tended cottage with only a few unofficial weeds daring to show their leaves in the otherwise regulation vegetable patch. Aido said in appreciation, "how do you get away with keeping up such a residence?"

Gunyon smiled, "the Inspectors for the Regulatory Authority of Domiciles and Outbuildings are loath to travel this far off the beaten path to make sure my house is up to code. I don't tell them anything and they don't ask; it is a mutually beneficial relationship." They stabled the horse in an old lean-to that had once housed a cow, but Gunyon had not bothered to go through the rigmarole required to acquire a new one after the decease of his previous beast. They entered the cottage and Gunyon's wife happily served them a brewed beverage outside the requisite hours. As they sipped their tea, they discussed many things and Aido felt himself enjoying life and real companionship for the first time in living memory.

"So what about this Hero of yours?" asked Gunyon as he munched on his fifteenth cucumber sandwich.

Aido said with a mouthful of cookie, "what about him?"

Gunyon said, "what makes The Powers That Be think one is like to rise from such a place as Happytown?"

Aido swallowed his cookie and said, "the name alone would suffice, but there are certain vague writings from an extinct people group native to the very south of the world that suggests as much, but as I said, the Prophecy is vague and it could be any of ten or twenty different villages and this may not even be the Appointed Time. That is the problem with Prophecy, it is often rather vague and fulfills itself often without us knowing until long after the fact. But just to be on the safe side, they are taking all precautions."

"How do you go about finding a Hero?" asked Gunyon with a smile.

Aido chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then replied, "we will of course monitor all known widows with only sons, step-families containing an ill-tempered woman, orphans raised by obscure or cruel relatives, and anyone who has ever found a child of unknown pedigree on their doorstep. Of course the current management strategy for all such High Risk Families has been implemented to prevent just such an occurrence. None of these Families at High Risk of Hero Production or Prophecy Fulfillment are left to go hungry, become poor, or otherwise grow discontent with their lot in life. If there is no discontent or need, or so the theory goes, there is unlikely to be a Hero produced or a Prophecy fulfilled."

"An interesting theory," said Gunyon as he chewed, "has it worked?"

Aido shrugged his shoulders, "before my promotion to Investigator I worked mostly in the Laboratory of Statistics and Numerical Data which compiles numbers on Everything, even on things that have no numerical data, but there was very little convincing evidence that any of their preventive protocols either helped or hindered Prophecy/Hero attainment. In reality, such occurrences are so rare that it would take a millennium to get enough data to even begin calculating whether their programs are effective or not. Of course, no one really cares if a bureaucracy is effective so long as it seems to be doing something."

Gunyon chewed on this revelation and another sandwich, before saying, "can we improvise our own Hero?"

Aido sat back and said thoughtfully, "it certainly isn't done that way, at least if you are going by the Book, but I am so tired of 'The Book of All Regulations Pertaining to Decent and Orderly Civilian Life' that I think we should, just to spite them all!"

Gunyon nodded, "very well, we will."

They stayed up much of the night (quite against the Treaty on Reasonable and Necessary Nocturnal Activities) discussing their plans to implement a Hero and/or fulfill a Prophecy. As they made up their lists, discussed necessary attributes, and inventoried equipment, Aido said in surprise, "it seems my training to prevent Hero actualization has actually equipped me with all of the requisite skills."

Gunyon smiled, "and out of Happytown a Hero shall arise. Prophecy fulfilled! Excellent! Now all we need is a ragtag band of followers and we shall be ready to shake the Pillars of Order."

Aido said hopefully, "your company of so-called Freemen?"

Gunyon shook his head, "a few might be interested or willing to assist in our caper, but we need the seediest, most scandalous, and underrated band of cutthroats this world can supply."

Aido nodded, "ah, you suggest a raid on the Facility for the Containment of Socially Awkward Individuals." Gunyon smiled in anticipation of what was to come.

They went to bed and slept well into the day (violating the Compact on Acceptable Awakenings) and after a scrumptious breakfast that had nothing whatsoever to do with the Highly Recommended and Otherwise Required Guidelines for Food Preparation and Consumption, they went about plotting their raid. They made their way out of the forest in the twilight, knowing no true government official would bother being out of doors at that hour. They stayed overnight with another Freeman who lived on the far border of the forest and set out before first light the next morning. For three days they traveled as far and hard as they could each day without risking exposure by too much exertion. They arrived outside the Facility of CSAI in time for the Afternoon Refreshment Period and had to wait for admittance until the Guard for Security and Safety had finished his allotted Refreshment. The bored and disgruntled looking man in his fading years studied their paperwork, stared at them, returned to the paperwork, whistled tunelessly, and then resumed staring at them. Finally he said in irritation, "seems like everything is in order Investigator, you may proceed with your prisoner."

Gunyon nodded grimly and touched Aido in the small of the back with his swordpoint, grumbling, "move along scum." They both contained an exuberant smile that their subterfuge was working so well, of course it helped that Aido was truly an Investigator with a real Department and that Gunyon was a renowned scribe who could copy, forge, or create any document or handwriting desired.

As Aido was by now a well-known criminal, it was quite reasonable to present him as the newest inmate of the Facility. They wound deeper into the complex, passing each checkpoint and guard station with ease until they were in the very heart of the detention area. The day was wearing out as they passed the last checkpoint and Gunyon asked after the keys, that he might lock up his captive for the night. The guard yawned and said, "it is one minute to close pal, whatever you do afterhours is no concern of mine but I won't be held liable for overtime. Take the keys, I'm going home." He handed over the gigantic key ring and left for the night, leaving the pair alone with the inmates.

It took several hours to free the captives, as there were countless keys to try in each lock, but finally the prisoners were loose and they began discussing strategy. It was an easy matter to capture the skeleton crew that guarded the facility at night and lock them up in the prisoners' stead. It was many months before the incarcerated guards were able to convince the morning crew that they had been illegally detained, but finally the paperwork made it through all the proper channels and the guards were released with only a severe scolding. The morning crew thought it odd that the number and faces of the prisoners had changed overnight but as there was no official paper trail on the matter, no one wanted to get in trouble or take responsibility, so nothing was said about it until the proper paperwork was completed, by which time our Heroes were long since gone.

Most of the detainees went home, as there were far too many of them to go a'questing, but there were half a dozen that stayed to help. Aido studied their motley crew with appreciation; here were rebels indeed. One man had green hair that clashed with his favorite purple shirt, another really liked liver and onions, there was a lady who was overly fond of cats, Robert insisted on being called Bob, there was a repeat jaywalker (crosswalks hadn't been invented yet), and a man who had accidentally cut the tags off of a mattress he did not own. Few were the criminals in the realm more vile than these, let The Powers That Be tremble, for the Shakers of Empire had emerged (yes, the Nomenclature people are at it again). They easily made their way out of the Containment Facility after raiding the parking garage and locker room for their own personal benefit and went out to, well, shake the Empire.

So how do eight people make an Empire tremble and bring an overbearing bureaucracy to its knees? Easy! Destroy the Paperwork, for if it does not exist on paper, it does not exist, at least in a bureaucracy. So off they went, to interfere with the lifeblood of this bungling, lumbering giant and who better to aid them than the Minions of Government themselves. Aido thought the tree obsessed people over at the Arboreal Comptroller would be just the folks to get on their side, for if it were well nigh impossible to get paper, one could not have paperwork, and no paperwork meant no bureaucracy. So our zany friends arrayed themselves in varicolored splendor and did not bath or shave for several weeks. Once they appeared to be quite friendly with the earth and all therein, they wandered over to the Main Office of the Arboreal Comptroller and made their plea. The Administrative Assistant was quite perplexed by these hippy-wannabes and did the only thing possible in a confusing or overwhelming situation: she delegated. So it was that they passed from one office to another, from one flunky's hands to a lackey down the hall. Finally they arrived in the Office of the Arboreal Comptroller himself and happily extolled their plan of saving the nation's precious forests from the horrid fate of wanton waste and negligence that was rampant throughout the realm. The man nodded, ordered his personal aides to present themselves, and soon interrogated them as to the abuse of the obviously vanishing woodlands.

The minions agreed to the last man (what else are minions for?) that there was certainly a problem and only drastic and instantaneous action could preserve some small scrap of the once great forests from total annihilation. One went so far as to proclaim that his son's third grade science teacher had complained the other day that they seemed to be cutting down too many trees lately, at least more than she remembered as a girl. This smote the hearts of all those listening sore and even lent scientific credence to the Theory of Arboreal Apocalypse. The Comptroller had heard enough; he would act immediately.

The Service for the Collection and Distribution of Information: Useful and Otherwise, was summoned to report on this horrifying discovery and soon the whole nation was in a near panic at looming paper shortages, rampant deforestation, and the resulting air pollution, acid rain, and erosion that would no doubt make the entire world uninhabitable for at least a thousand years, give or take an Officially Obscure Holiday. So it was that Drastic Measures were taken and the forests were saved and the masses appeased. Paper became scarce and terribly expensive until someone decided to import it from less prudent nations, thus restoring paper to the peasantry. Of course, during the paper shortage the entire government collapsed due to lack of paperwork and most of its officials were forced to seek sanctuary in the nation's universities and on the professional speaking circuit, where they remain to this day.

While the economy suffered a grievous recession in the public sector, private industry and productivity flourished (even without paper) as never before, and for the first time in history, people without a government job could actually make a living. Eventually things settled down, paper was restored to the nation, and the government returned, but in a more modest and humble form, which was the only kind now acceptable to the temporarily freed plebs who, once drunk with the wine of freedom, could not again taste of the moonshine of bureaucracy. As for our heroes, each was honored with his or her own Official Obscure Holiday but after the Paper Revolution, only the Service for the Distribution of Written Communications officially observed said Holidays, but then, no government is perfect!

In Which Miss Iris Misses Tea

Excerpt from 'Of Tea... and Things'

There she stood in her second best dress on the front steps of her husband's marvelous and imposing townhouse, clutching the most disreputable portmanteau in the staff's possession, or at least the most scandalous specimen that could be procured on short notice. She would not even have been allowed to keep the dress, had it not been considered quite improper to allow her back inside to change into something less grand. She had never imagined when she had stepped out that morning to make a call upon a certain influential social matron that she would be facing such a crisis upon her return, had she known that to be the case, she at least would have worn her Best Dress, a scandal in its own right certainly, but one easily overlooked in the even deeper scandal that had washed over her with all the rage and suddenness of a tsunami. Of course she had never worn the Best Dress, no one did, not unless the Queen herself happened to stop by unannounced for tea! Her current surprise was no less had that been the shock awaiting her but it was certainly far less pleasant, or so she assumed, never having had tea with Her Majesty, she could not be quite certain, but she thought it was at least probable.

She tried to plead again with the dour faced butler but he only shook his head grimly and pointed harshly down the road, as if she were naught but a beggar woman squatting upon the doorstep rather than his mistress of a decade. Former mistress it seemed. Said the appalled housekeeper, from behind the grim brute of a butler who seemed suddenly all brawny shoulders, a feature she had never before paid much heed, "move along miss, it would not do to make a scene."

With a final sigh, her shoulders slumping and her elegant train trailing dejectedly after her, Iris descended the proud and fashionable steps, wondering what the society papers would say on the morrow and how many hidden eyes were watching from behind seemingly vacant windows. There was no sense arguing, it was just the way things were. She had forgotten, well she knew this day might come, but she had hoped something would happen to spare her such an ignomious fate, that her husband's fondness for her would somehow protect her, that he might forget, but it seemed that he had not and no amount of love, however inordinate, could make up for the indignity she had caused him, the insult was unforgivable and imperiling his family line as she had was perhaps the greatest indignity of all, if not a crime in and of itself.

'Miss,' the word haunted her, she who had only that morning stepped out as Mrs. Iris Andromeda Baren Candor Donaldo Eveleff Garand Hatt Indigo...Zebula. Twenty-six surnames, one for each letter of the alphabet, outlining her husband's extensive, impressive, and most ancient lineage, but now she was simply 'miss.' She opened the bag hopefully, for perhaps her future lay therein, but there was nothing within, save a few sentimental knickknacks she had brought with her upon her most fortuitous marriage. Once fabulously wealthy, her material worth was now as diminished as her name. She had a few coins about her person, a surplus of lace handkerchiefs, and a fan, but nothing else save the clothes on her back and the hat on her head. Perhaps she could still return home, she doubted it, but it was the only thing she could think of to spare herself from an even less desirable fate.

She raised a hand to hail a cab, a thing no proper lady would do, for that is what one had servants for, so it took no little time to actually attract that attention of a driver and get him to pull his overworked nag over to the side of the pavement whereon her former ladyship stood. They assumed she was having a fit or communicating with some other personage or fainting or something appropriately ladylike, not trying to get the attention of such a loathsome creature as a cabby. But at last someone did dare to thwart all common reason and social propriety and pulled over to see what the perplexing dame was up to, but not before a rather scandalous looking person, who made Iris's skin crawl even at a distance, sidled up to her most knowingly and said in very familiar tones, "there's but one thing for you to do miss, you're still a pretty-ish thing, and don't you worry, we'll be waiting when you finally resign yourself to reality." He winked at her in a most reprehensible fashion and then slouched off rather too smugly for anyone's comfort but his own.

Iris shuddered in revulsion as she climbed into the cab, gave her address, and tried not to think as they rolled off in the direction of her childhood home. She couldn't, absolutely not! But if her parents likewise disowned her, it would be her only option. But no, they wouldn't, they couldn't! But they did. The cab drew up in a very unfashionable part of town and she paid him his fare, all she had left and with nothing extra for his trouble. She couldn't tell if he was angry, scandalized, or seemed to understand her plight, so blank were his face and eyes, the result of a lifetime of carrying to and fro those whose business was none of his. The vehicle rattled off and she prepared to face her parents, hoping against hope that they would not see things as all of society did, that this scandal was none of her own doing, but they undoubtedly would.

Her father was a craftsman, he worked with his hands, and while he made a good living for his large family, such a family was not likely to be the source of a bride for one of society's elite; it just wasn't done. So it was quite the fairy tale to those who knew the family, and quite the scandal to everyone else, when his Lordship had chosen Iris to be his bride. It was the habit of some of the great lords' sons and certain wealthy young bucks to go 'slumming' amid the lower classes as both a form of amusement and a means of temporally escaping the stuffy and inflexible world into which they had been born. They'd don 'rough' clothes and attend a public ball in the less affluent parts of town and dance the night away with many a miller's daughter and tradesman's niece. It was in just such an environment that Iris met her husband, well former husband, and he was so taken with her that he insisted on marrying her.

Many insisted that he would one day rue his choice, mostly those with eligible daughters of their own, and today seemed to be proving them right. She was neither rich nor powerful nor did she know anyone who was, but her family was respectable, if middle class, but most importantly, she came of a large and healthy family. Her mother had been prolific in the production of children and he had no doubt that it was a trait his admired lady would likewise possess. So they were married, much to the delight of everyone who had any care or love for the happiness of those involved, but all others were appalled, most especially his peers and relations. Gradually they got used to the idea and the scandalized talk and impolite remarks vanished into the background as other, more interesting scandals arose to replace them, but they would no doubt spring back to life after today's little affair.

It was exactly ten years and nine months to the day since she wed what she thought was the love of her life, but here she stood outside the door of her childhood home, hoping that her parents would welcome her home once more. But the unemotional maid that answered the door did not look like a bearer of gladsome tidings, said she in a scandalized tone, "please come round to the back, miss, the front door is only for proper visitors."

Ugh! At least they answered the door, perhaps they just wanted to avoid more public scandal, best to keep this affair away from prying eyes in any case. She hustled to the door that opened off a side alley into the kitchens, hoping to find peace at last, but she was merely handed a few table scraps for her trouble and told that the master of the house, though not unkindly, was not prone to humor beggars who repeatedly accosted his servants. Beggar?! But in truth that's what she was, she had dared marry into one of the Great Families, and in failing to uphold her part of the bargain, after the legally prescribed period, she was cast back into the street, and having thus embarrassed herself and all the Greats so thoroughly, her family dared not offer her succor, lest they seem complicit in the eyes of all society in this most unfortunate affair. There were also yet children at home and the presence of such a specter lurking about the house would undoubtedly affect their chances of marrying well, or at all. To them and all society, it was as if she had never been. She wasn't even considered as one dead, one who at least had lived and would be missed, rather she no longer existed and never had.

What was left to her? She considered the filthy and disreputable man who had accosted her, almost as dreadful as her handbag, but she shuddered in disgust, she'd rather starve! Staring down bleakly at her meager handful of scraps, the only legacy her parents would bequeath her, she knew she very well might. But it would be far better to die an honest, though wretched death, than to play the harlot for her bread. But was there no other choice? She sighed heavily as she slunk out of the alley, little heeding where she was going but knowing she could no longer remain where she was, all of her attention was focused inward on the disaster that was now her life.

It wasn't her fault, or so she hoped, she really didn't mean to be barren, she came of fruitful stock on both sides, but in those ten years and nine months, she had never given her husband even the hope of a child. But as far as society saw it, she had deceived him, wasted precious time in which he might have been fathering children, endangered the stability of the family line, for what would happen if he died without leaving children? She did have to smile, in a grim and ironic sort of way, that she had had ten years and nine months, just in case she happened to conceive on the last day of the prescribed ten years, you never could tell, but as she had not produced an heir in the final nine months either, she was unceremoniously cast from her home and society, driven from safety and security like a common thief. And now her only hope was to become a harlot, this too elicited that grimly amused smile, for what safer woman for such a job? There being so slight a chance of producing bastard children and the lady herself being cast out of all decent society, in desperate need of both sustenance and protection.

Better to face the Wilds than suffer such a fate! She stood on the edge of town, her unwitting wanderings having brought her thus, near one of the great gates that opened in the wall surrounding the city and allowed traffic in and out during daylight hours, but which were firmly shut every evening to keep Things out. What Things, she had never rightly heard, it wasn't proper for her young female mind to be apprised of such Things, but rest assured, between the Wall and the Watch, she'd not need to worry about any of them. She just needed to focus on finding a decent husband. Well, that and having a superfluity of children. She had succeeded quite well in the first case but failed abysmally in the second. With a heavy sigh, she marched straight out the gate and into the wide world without and none dared stop her, for though a lady of breeding NEVER left the Walls without a proper escort, it was even more taboo to interfere with such, no matter how improper seemed her intentions.

She had travelled abroad several times with her husband upon various errands and visits, but she had never left town alone and afoot before, certainly not as a girl, for even people of her father's lowly social status had Standards. But she was quite thoroughly disgusted with Standards and for a time relished the odd looks shot her way by the various farmers, tradesmen, and servants that passed her by upon their own errands. She found it quite exhilarating at first, to be thwarting social conventions so thoroughly; cast her out would they?! Well, she might just as well spurn them! She'd leave of her own accord and that was that. The leaving part was easy, it was what was to be done afterwards that terrified her enough that the ratty man's offer didn't seem so bad upon recollection, but she chastised herself as a milk-hearted sniveler and kept marching further away from the only life she had ever known, but just what was she speeding towards?

Things. Oh why oh why would they not tell her about Things?! Not knowing was probably worse than the most horrid truth, then she must resort to making things up and a young girl's imagination could be quite gruesome, likely more so than the actual reality. Well, this was her big chance to find out. And whatever her fate, it couldn't be worse than harlotry, not that she knew much about that either, just enough to encourage her to produce a baby or ten lest it be all her future. She started to cast back within her mind, seeking stories, rumors, gossip, lies, anything she could remember of life outside the city, beyond the town, things her brothers discovered in their studies, overheard snippets of the servants' gossip, gran's fireside tales, the talk amongst her father's friends over their pipes when she was thought long abed.

Of course she had been taught, as all decent and proper young ladies were, about the Old World, and the Ancient Days, of all the horrible and uncouth things that had happened before civilization and decency and Standards, when the world was wild and young and wide, when people were the myth and all sorts of uncouth folk roamed the earth. But all that happened in another age, another time, probably in another place, for nothing very interesting ever happened in or near the city, at least that she had ever heard of, at least not interesting to her, she didn't consider the latest social scandal intriguing in the least, which may be why she never quite fit in to Society, children or not.

As the day began to fade into evening, she allowed herself a brief respite from her introspection to take the lay of the land and consider what might be her best option for the imminent night. The fields and pasturelands and neat little coppice woods that had straddled the road for the entirety of the journey suddenly gave way before her to a wood seemingly as dark and expansive as the night sky that seemed intent upon devouring all that remained of the dying day. The road itself skirted this impressive forest by a wide margin, continuing on its prim and proper way, seemingly contemptuous of the wild and unkempt country that bordered one side. Well, thought she, Society and their Standards have utterly cast me out, why should I tread their roads and prescribed paths any longer? So with a shrug of defiance, she stepped off the smug little road and clove her way into the murky and trackless wood.

The first thing she noticed was that her fashionable garb, though quite suited to the trackless wastes of societal gatherings, was quite a hindrance in actual trackless wastes. The second was that it was quite dark, as if one had foolishly locked oneself inside a wardrobe. Unable any longer to ascertain what was before her, and tripping most inelegantly over some branch or rock, and even uncertain where the edge of the forest now lay, she could do little but sit down and cry, for at last her heart had caught up with her mind, originally numbed by the shock of it all, she had been able to act almost dispassionately, but out here, at last, her sorrow and fears overtook her. Of course proper ladies were not allowed to cry, but as she was no longer of that ilk, she unashamedly wept her little heart out until at last she passed blissfully into unknowing sleep.

"She did what?!" said the astonished, though otherwise thoroughly tidy, man in wonder.

"She vanished into that dratted Wood, sir," said the equally flabbergasted henchman, adding quickly, "I offered her the usual and assumed she'd come begging the moment she discovered just how limited her options were. I never took her for the outdoorsy type."

"If she was just some common trollop," began the distinguished looking man, dressed to the height of current fashion, as he pensively paced the room, "it would be of no matter if she did choose to so lose herself and be set upon by Things. No one would care or notice, but this chit was special! I had a double-sided list as long as my arm of gentlemen callers wanting to make her acquaintance. It is not often such a scandal rocks Society and when it does, our men of Fashion should be able to take advantage of it. She's costing me money, lots of money, and worse, notoriety! Her reputation alone is worth more than five of my most talented ladies combined." He glared at the hapless minion as if this whole fiasco was his fault, "have we no options?"

"You know no one who goes into that Wood ever returns," stuttered the terrified henchman, "at least in a recognizable form."

"True," sighed the dandy, "too true, you should have just kidnapped her outright."

"Knowing what we do now, I would have, but I like to give them the chance to despair first," smiled the lackey wickedly, "it makes their final surrender and despair all the sweeter and seems to even make them grateful to us for saving them from utter ruin."

"Why can't she just be reasonable like every other girl in the realm?" mused the cad in a gentleman's garb.

"There were whispers you know, sir," said the flunky in dubious and hushed tones.

"Yes," slurred that non-gentleman, "and if true, perhaps she would have been a most troublesome acquisition indeed. But was there truly any proof that she did, indeed," he paused cautiously, as if to ensure they were truly alone before continuing in a quieter voice, as he uttered the astonishing word, "read?"

"I managed to speak to several of her former staff, both in her husband's and her father's house, and they agreed that she did in fact do just that," said the sub-villain, not daring even to say the dastardly deed aloud.

"It is not," mused the senior villain, "that a lady cannot be allowed to read, but it is her choice of literature that is of the utmost import. You are certain it was not just flimsy novels and the society papers?"

"Nay milord," said the henchman grimly, "it was books, solid and heavy books, any she could lay hand to, not that it was an easy thing in her social circumstances, but they say she found rather creative ways to go about it, vulgar chit!"

"Does she know something we do not about that forest or Things?" asked he.

"I doubt it sir," said the henchman boldly, "for even the most well read of men knows little of that cursed Wood, and whatever means she used to contrive access to a book, it is very unlikely she would come across anything helpful in that regard when men with ready access to such information know nothing."

"Quite true," said the non-gentleman in growing good humor, "perhaps she would have been quite an encumbrance to own, a pity, but perhaps it is for the best after all."

While Iris could see nothing going on around her, not only because she was sleeping as one dead, but also because that peculiar Wood was draped in an unnatural night, that did not mean things weren't going on. While all the human folk in those parts thought this particular Wood haunted, cursed, forsaken, et cetera, it was really none of those things, for it was always near to bursting with activity of various sorts and tenanted by some of the most upstanding individuals imaginable, though perhaps they did not recognize the Standards as holy writ, which was probably the main argument against calling such folk civilized, they were quite civilized in their own particular way, one which Society might very well have called uncouth, could they ever glimpse such a spectacle of course. But as they couldn't, all were kindly spared that sort of unpleasantness.

"A lady?!" said a very astonished voice, lurking in the shrubbery near where said lady reposed in quite un-Standard fashion.

"Quite," chuckled a second voice in reply.

"Of all the strange and wonderful things one might glimpse in this peculiar Wood," mused the first, "this is one spectacle I never thought to see."

"Anything is possible here," said the second voice in ill-suppressed amusement.

"Anything out of the ordinary," agreed the first, "but such a spectacle is quite ordinary in the outer world."

"But it would be a peculiar scene here and thus one would think it quite possible, along with all the other impossible scenes one might certainly witness herein," continued the second, no longer hiding his mirth.

"I suppose your reasoning must be sound," said the first with a shake of his head, "if not here, then certainly somewhere." He glanced back at the sleeping lady, "but it seems so mundane."

"Again you are stating the obvious, my friend," smiled the second, "please stop!"

"But then what shall we speak of?" quoth the first with a wry grin.

"Now who is the one being mundane?" laughed the second outright.

"True," said the first ruefully, "I sound like some oblivious gentleman at a societal function where we can speak nothing but the blatantly obvious."

"The lady's presence is corrupting you already," said the second in feigned horror, "what will happen to the balance of our acquaintance?"

"Dreadful thought indeed!" agreed the first, but lapsing into sudden silence as the lady in question stirred.

"Who is there?" queried she, trying to sound valiant and unafraid but managing only to sound like a lonely kitten mewing forlornly in a dark alley. Iris glanced about her futilely, all about her hidden in mist and shadow. At least the utter black of night had given way to a twilit world of murky shadow but she was still nearly as blind, not even able to see her feet amidst the brume, but she was quite certain she had been wakened by voices.

The first looked at the second in question, he only shrugged and stepped forward out of the swirling mists, that the lady might know what it was that lurked unseen just beyond sight. She gasped to see that she was not alone in this surreal world, but as she had been anticipating Things, two gentlemen dressed in quality but conservative evening dress were not exactly what she had been expecting, seeing her quickly hidden look of disappointment, the first said to the second, "see, she was thinking to discover something less mundane in this peculiar Wood as well." Upon which, all exchanged Standard greetings, before the first spoke once more, "how come you here madam and may we be of any assistance?"

She fought valiantly but the tears still came, said she through her sobs and hiccups, "I am quite at a loss, gentlemen, for I've been Forsaken by kith and kin, cast out for the most heinous of offenses. I wonder that you would even deign speak with me."

The first man could not suppress a grin, "we don't often get to read the society papers, milady. You will be happy to know that your society's standard is not ours."

She blinked at him as if he had said he routinely employed an ostrich in lieu of a carriage horse, said she in some befuddlement, "what then is your Standard? I know I am Outcast, but if you are equally so, have you not turned bandit or outlaw or something equally uncivilized?"

"Your society certainly would not approve of our various goings on, madam," assured the second, his own grin as wide as his fellow's, "but we are far from lawless men. Indeed, we cling to a standard even higher and older than that to which you refer."

She smiled sadly at these poor benighted men, lost so long in the dark and mist that they must truly have lost all sense of decency and propriety, not to mention physical direction, but then again, it was the Standards that had proclaimed she must be cast from all decent company and protections for an act which was not willfully done and was in nowise her fault and said that her former kith and kin must have nothing whatsoever to do with her ever again whilst these respectable seeming gentlemen were at least treating her as a real and valuable person.

Said she in polite ignorance, "I suppose there must be other Standards in the world, those that govern conduct say in former times or distant places, perhaps it is of this you speak?"

"Something like that indeed, my lady," said the first with a grandiose bow, "but come, what crime or perception thereof has driven you so far from home?"

They both blinked in wonder at her brief tale, said the second, "and how is it you chose to flee to this peculiar Wood, whose reputation may be even worse among fashionable folk than even the flesh dealers that offered you succor?"

"I've never heard aught of this Wood, either good or ill," said she simply, "women are not told such things. I've tried to read up on things, not Things mind you, but anything I could lay hands on, but even that study was limited, for it is thought quite uncouth for a woman, particularly one of my standing, to know things, especially about Things." She brightened significantly at this, "now that I am a woman of ill-repute, will you tell me about the Things?"

"What things?" queried the first in confusion.

"You know!" said she a bit abashedly, "the reason the city has walls, the Things they are meant to keep out!"

The men exchanged a rather amused grin, at which she frowned, thinking their mirth sprang from her ignorance, but the second reassured her, "I am not sure why they built the walls if they think to repel Things from within this Wood, that is utterly ridiculous, but perhaps your folk do not understand that or it makes them feel better regardless, but either way, if the walls were meant to keep your folk safe from Things within the Wood, they are sorely mistaken."

"I see," said she rather lamely, but perked up as she considered, "still, if they are afraid of Things, there must be a reason and I would dearly love to learn it."

"I am afraid what your folk fear and the actual reality of the situation are two very different things, milady," said the first with a regretful shake of his head, continuing swiftly as she tried to interject eagerly, "and some of those truths cannot be imparted to you, for either the world is not ready or is forbidden from knowing or even we know not the truth of the matter."

She shut her eagerly gaping mouth and merely broached a disappointed, "oh," feeling again a little girl whose father had just told her serious books were not within the proper domain of womenfolk.

"That and there is not time enough between now and the end of days to thoroughly discuss such a topic," added the second hurriedly.

"So you are saying," mused she, "that though much must yet remain hidden from my ravenously curious mind, there are still enough facts of interest to keep me thoroughly occupied for the rest of my born days?"

"Certainly miss," grinned the first, "the better question would be, what do you need to know, what would be the most important topic to begin your education?"

She stood and brushed the residual brush from her hopelessly rumpled dress, touched her now feral hair with an appalled hand, only to discover her stylish hat was also missing, and said in resignation, "I suppose one's wardrobe and appearance are not of the utmost import within this wild wood of yours? If the residents hereof are not at all concerned with mortal walls, I would assume physical appearance would also be of little import?" Both men offered her a smart half bow of affirmation, their eyes sparkling in delight at her quick assessment of the situation and seemingly innate understanding thereof. She glanced around morosely at the unpromising gloom and asked, "and I suppose what I can see of this dismal place is hardly to be used as a measure to judge the Wood as a whole or even in part?"

"Indeed!" agreed the second happily, "you have a fine grasp upon the situation, for having just arrived and being..." He trailed off awkwardly, not knowing how to state the obvious in a delicate and politic manner.

She grinned at him, quite like an excited and unabashed child, "being a former society matron?"

"Quite," seconded the first.

"I suppose the most important matter to determine is what is to come of me?" she gazed at her interlocutors earnestly.

"I suppose we cannot just throw her back?" grinned the second in a most impish fashion.

At this, the lady gaped unwittingly like the metaphorical fish to which she had just been compared, little realizing that she had likewise committed a faux pas of vast egregiousness along with her companion: that of comparing a lady to an aquatic animal, it just was not done, at least not in proper circles, but as she glanced about once more, she was reminded just how far removed she now was from those very circles and decided to let the perceived insult pass unremarked, whereat the first came magnanimously to her rescue with, "you shouldn't compare a lady to a fish, my friend, not on any account."

"I suppose not," agreed the second, "but our quandary still remains, bad metaphors aside."

"It does at that," frowned the first pensively, eyeing the lady, he asked, "and what shall come of you madam?"

"I haven't a clue," said she morosely, "I was hoping you could tell me!"

"The outer world has utterly forsaken you," mused the second aloud, "yet you have no official place or standing within the Wood."

"Must I?" queried she, all curiosity.

The first nodded grimly, "aye madam, for without it you would find yourself in grave peril, for there are many factions and an ever shifting balance of power and most of the denizens have little love for mortals. At best they would ignore you, but there are many who would do far worse for the temerity you have shown in violating their Wood."

Her eyes narrowed as she studied them anew, "yet you are not afraid to go gallivanting about as it pleases you?" They both smiled at this, an irksome gesture, reminiscent of a smug and mysterious cat, with just as much hope of prying a satisfactory answer out of them as to the significance thereof. Sighed she in obvious disdain, "fine, keep your secrets! I can only then assume that I cannot safely depend upon physical appearance as a concrete sign of anything in this odd place?"

"You are quite correct, milady," agreed the first, "hope may be found within a monstrous guise and danger in the most innocuous."

"So you are not two gentlemen of means and leisure who have happened upon me in my hour of need?" asked she.

"We have happened upon you in your hour of need, quite providentially if I may add," said the second.

"And we are certainly Gentlemen, at least as the term should be defined, though not as the word is realized in your society," added the First.

"And we are certainly not men of leisure," chuckled the Second.

Added the First, "but we certainly have the means to accomplish the necessary."

"So what is to come of me?" asked she plaintively.

"What are your wishes and desires madam?" retorted the First.

"I want to belong somewhere," said she pensively, "to not be judged by things beyond my control. To be valued for what I am, rather than for what I am not or what I own or to whom I was born or for what I might do."

"The search of every quivering soul," nodded the Second.

"Can I find it?" asked she, hoping against hope, "here or anywhere?"

"It is quite attainable," smiled the First, "if you truly desire it."

"I do!" said she, "who doesn't?"

"Everyone desires it of course," said the First, "but most prefer to attempt to attain it in their own way, by their own power or cunning or strength, but it can only be attained one way."

"The Standards?" asked she nervously.

"Is your society's attempt at attaining it, yes," nodded the Second sagely, "but it is not the true Way."

"Good!" said she with a sigh of relief, "for I've tried it and found it extremely vexatious and thoroughly wanting." Her eyes narrowed suddenly, "how can you be so certain there is only one Way? That sounds rather myopic and closed minded if there are as many different cultures, tribes, traditions, and peoples in the world and even beyond it as you imply?"

"What does your society think of any that don't hold their Standard dear?" countered the First.

"We think them uncivilized heathens," said she at once, narrowing her eyes in thought and adding, "which makes me wonder if the truly civilized way to look at the matter is to see that perhaps there are many roads to the same destination?"

"And what would happen if you found a road and started traveling thereupon, assuming it must bear you wherever you had a mind to go regardless of whither it truly went?" asked the Second.

"That is ridiculous," giggled she, "a road can only go betwixt the places it is built; my wishes mean nothing."

"Should not the same be true of attempting to attain a certain end?" queried the first, "If you wish to obtain milk, one does not approach an obliging rock or climb a tree. Your society is right in its assumption that their Standard must be seen as the only way to achieve their desired end or chaos and confusion would result, even if they are wrong about the means thereof. They have the right idea but the wrong road."

"Humph," grunted she in disgust, realizing how much of a waste her life had been up until this very moment, but brightening added, "so how is one to attain the proper end?"

"Take the right road," said the First cryptically.

"Show me this way, then," urged she.

"It will cost you everything, milady," said the Second quietly.

"I have nothing left," countered she.

"Materially speaking, perhaps," agreed the First, but adding, "but what of your hopes, dreams, fears, doubts, time, preferences, prejudices, opinions, and physical being, all that makes up your heart, mind, body, and soul?"

"I must become nothing?" said she in growing alarm.

The Second shook his head minutely and said quietly, so much so that she had to strain to hear him, "we are nothing, or rather, each of us is accounted as nothing when compared to that which we seek. It is none of our doing, we come naked and empty handed, filthy and alone, disgusting beggars with nothing to recommend us."

She was trembling, whether in fear or anticipation, perhaps both, she scarcely knew, but licking her lips, she said just as quietly, "I am utterly wretched, beneath these fancy rags lurks nothing of worth or substance, yet you say it need not be so?"

"Aye, milady," smiled the First in growing anticipation, "in forsaking what we think we want, only then can we discover that which we truly need."

"Then show me," said she eagerly. The two gentlemen exchanged one of those maddeningly mystifying looks, bowed graciously to the lady, and then the world spun into blackness, dark as starless night.

